The party from Camelot had remained in Ealdor through the rest of the day following the battle. The following morning, they set out under the patchy clouds that a cold wind had blown down from the Ridge of Essetir to the west. It seemed like now that they had defeated their enemy, the weather had decided to mourn the bandits' defeat rather than celebrate the villagers' victory. Morgana drew her cloak closer as she glanced back one last time before the trees blocked Ealdor from view. She had enjoyed the chance to fight with the men and make a difference; a part of her wished to remain in that small village, but it was not the life she was meant to have. Besides, she had to stay in Camelot, so she could help Arthur take care of Merlin and make sure that Uther did not destroy the place with his feud against magic. Sometimes, she felt as though she were the only sane one in the place.
The small company rode all day, passing through the mountains and down towards the plains of Camelot. The leaves on the trees had flamed into vibrant color during the fighting against Kanen, and now they fell to the ground in deep, soft drifts around the horses' feet. In some places, the leaves had choked and covered treacherous ground, and the group went single file with Arthur in front, carefully picking out the safe path. During these moments, Morgana took the chance to study her prince.
Hi behavior had been so strange the past few days. He hardly bantered with her, and she had spotted him many times eying Merlin with something like grief and longing. She had known that he had come to care for the boy (how could anyone in Camelot not know, after all, with all the friendly bickering those two did?), and there had been that instance with the poisoned goblet, when he had gone questing at risk to his own life to save Merlin. Still, that could be explained by masculine bravado, and their bantering, while playful, always ended when Arthur wanted it to. This trip to Ealdor, though, had shown Morgana a new side to the crown prince. The way Arthur had not hesitated to join Merlin on his trip home, and then had jumped right into helping the village that did not even belong to his lands when they got there, spoke to a much deeper bond between servant and prince than Morgana had realized existed.
Then, there was the event that had occurred during the actual fight.
When the small group stopped to camp for the night, Morgana sent Gwen off to gather wood with Merlin. Once the two servants were out of sight, she cornered Arthur next to his horse. "Do you know," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I noticed something very strange when we were fighting Kanen and his men." Arthur's movements stilled, and he turned to face her.
"I'm sure you saw lots of weird things," he said, very unconvincingly. "It was a fight. Weird things happen in fights."
"Weird things like winds out of nowhere that somehow attack only our enemies?" she asked, watching his response. When he remained silent for too long (a period of about five seconds, admittedly), she let her frustration kill any subtlety. "I know that was magic, Arthur," she said, grabbing his arm. "That was magic, and it helped us!"
She was startled at the sudden blankness that covered Arthur's face, as though all thoughts had been hidden away behind a steel curtain. "If that was magic?" he asked, looking her in the eyes with a strange intensity. "It doesn't matter, because it was not in my father's kingdom, so it was not illegal. Beyond that, it helped us, and I highly doubt Ealdor is a town of evil folk. So leave it, Morgana. Just, leave it." He turned away from her and returned to retrieving his bedroll from his horse.
Whatever Morgana had expected from her talk with Arthur, that had not been anywhere near it. If she had to guess, Morgana would have said that Arthur knew who was responsible for the magic, but that was impossible. No matter what changes Merlin had wrought in the spoilt prince, he was still the son of Uther Pendragon, and that meant hating magic.
Shaking her head, Morgana turned back to her own things. Shortly afterwards, she heard Gwen and Merlin heading back through the forest with firewood. The two were talking and laughing as they returned to the camp and set up a fire. Their friendship put a smile on Morgana's face; she thought they would make a very cute couple when they finally figured their feelings out.
When the group came within sight of Camelot the next day, Arthur paused for a moment. In the future during the last moments before what he expected to be his death, Arthur had thought he would never see his home again, and he had mourned. Then, when he had first returned to the past, he had been far too busy thinking he was in a dream or going mad to truly appreciate his location. Thus, he found himself balking at the final stretch of long grass between the travelers and the castle of Camelot.
He could see, in his mind's eye, Queen Guinevere standing on the battlements, waiting to welcome him home, while Gwaine and Percival chased each other through the corridors, causing almost as much trouble as Merlin sometimes. Leon, of course, would come out to meet him and offer him an escort back within the city; that, or he would be with Gwen, offering her counsel with the wisdom of years of service.
With a pang, Arthur realized that he had no idea which of his knights had survived the battle at Camlann. It seemed wrong that he may now never know who had given their lives with honor in the last battle of that bloody war.
"Are you planning to stand under the trees all day, Arthur, or did you leave your wits back in Essetir?" He shook himself out of his thoughts as he heard Merlin calling out to him.
"I'm coming, Merlin," he said, urging his horse forwards. As he drew alongside his servant, he shot back, "Don't tell me the reason you're always such an idiot is because you leave your wits in Ealdor. I suppose it would explain why you can never seem to follow the simplest orders without mucking something up."
He softened his words with a teasing grin, and was rewarded with an annoyed, "At least I'm not a complete clotpole!"
The two continued bickering good-naturedly as they rode towards Camelot, and Arthur allowed himself to be distracted for a little while by the banter. He still did not understand how he had come to be here, but unless it happened again, forwards was the only way to go, as always.
The ride across the long grass took little time; sooner than he would have liked, Arthur found himself passing through the gate to the lower city of Camelot. A guard of red-cloaked knights met the small party of travelers just beyond the gate, and Arthur pulled his horse to a halt.
"The king commands that you, Prince Arthur, and the Lady Morgana are to meet him in the council room," the knight in front said. Arthur recognized him as Sir Ranulf, a knight only a few years older than Arthur. He had died during Arthur's final year as king; seeing him alive and untroubled by the wars to come rattled Arthur. Behind Sir Ranulf stood several other knights that Arthur knew as well, but it was Ranulf's face that drew Arthur's gaze.
"Of course," Arthur said, dismounting and letting the knight lead him away. "Take care of my horse, would you Merlin?" he called back absently over his shoulder.
This man should be dead.
The thought chased itself round and round Arthur's head as he was led through the castle corridors. Every time he saw another face that he recognized as a man or woman killed long ago, the words would flash through his mind yet again. By the time they reached the council room, Arthur felt as though his head were about to spin right off his shoulders. Here, he was greeted by yet another sign that everything was wrong.
Instead of the round stone table that had stood in the center of the room during Arthur's reign, a wooden table took up the entire room, with Uther sitting at the head. The long table, its surface made black and shiny from age, somehow made the room look smaller and darker than it did during Arthur's time. Uther's glower did not add any cheer to the atmosphere, either.
Morgana stalked into the room, but Arthur followed more slowly. The last time he had spoken to his father, the man's ghost had attempted to kill his wife, several of his knights, and his manservant who also happened to be his best friend and guardian angel. He blinked rapidly to hold back the wetness that threatened his eyes. It would not do to burst into tears at the sight of his father. No one would have a clue what was wrong, and he doubted 'I haven't seen you alive in years' would go down very well with anyone. Luckily, Morgana was currently commanding all of their father's attention.
"How dare we go?" she was saying angrily in response to something Uther had said. "You refused to help Merlin's mother, but that did not mean that he had to go back to his home alone. What is our power for, if not to help those who need it?" She had clenched her hands into fists at her sides as she yelled at Uther, leaning forwards as though to impress her point upon him with the force of her presence alone.
Uther was unimpressed. "The boy is a servant, and his village is not a part of our kingdom," he said, glaring back at Morgana. "If we try to aid everyone who comes to us, we will be too overstretched to help our own citizens!"
Watching them together, Arthur felt his breath catch. They were both so alike, it was a wonder he had not realized earlier than he had that they were related. Arthur had plenty of stubbornness, it was true, but his father and Morgana outmatched him by a mile. They would never stop screaming at each other, not until either Morgana was in the dungeons or his father was dead, unless he did something. So, swallowing his pride and the voice that said Uther's crown should be his crown, sitting on his head, he stepped forward.
"I apologize for my misdeeds," he said, kneeling before his father. Morgana whirled on him.
"You have nothing to apologize for!" she said, glaring back at Uther. "It is your father who should apologize!"
Arthur ignored her, as he had been doing since his return to the past. "Father, it is my fault that anyone besides Merlin left to Ealdor, and I will take the full punishment that you deem necessary. Morgana and Guinevere came to help me, and Merlin had my permission to go." He grit his teeth at the words, but remained kneeling.
"Fine, then," Morgana said, throwing her hands up. "Take the blame. You're both men, so I don't know why I expect either of you not to be idiots."
Uther ignored her as well. "Very well," he said, staring down at Arthur. "Taking responsibility for your actions is the sign of a wise leader." Arthur did his best not to snort. He loved his father dearly, and the man's faults had not stopped him from being a great king for many years. "I will not punish you for this incident. Do not let it happen again, though."
Arthur rose, looking his father in the eye. "Yes, Sire," he said. "I will do everything I can in the future to become worthy of being your successor one day on the throne." The memory of Uther's spirit condemning his work as king surfaced in his mind, and he forced it down. He would do everything he could to be the best possible prince for his people, and when his father died, hopefully after many happy years, he would be the best king he could be, regardless of what his father thought of his method of ruling.
Thankfully, Uther could not hear his thoughts, and so the king nodded to him in approval. "Good," he said, returning to his chair. Morgana scoffed at them both, but Uther stalled her voice with a raised hand. "I have one other matter to discuss with you both," he said. "We have a guest at Camelot, and I was very displeased not to have the pleasure of introducing her to my son and my ward when she arrived." Uther waved at the door, where a woman was entering the room. "May I present you both with the Lady Morgause, of the House of Reghed."
Arthur stared in horror as a familiar scowling blonde walked in to the council room, throwing a brief, forced smile at Uther before turning on Arthur. He saw her gaze slip carefully past Morgana, her eyes registering only the briefest flash of emotion, before she was speaking.
"Well met, Arthur Pendragon," she said. Her voice was just as he remembered it, soft and flat, but hinting at hidden edges. "Your father has been kind enough to let me use his libraries. I am a great fan of history and scholarship, but unfortunately my own father's collection can hardly compare to the books you have here in Camelot." She smiled at him. "I do hope that you and Morgana will join us for supper tonight, now that you have returned from your journey."
As Arthur was too busy holding himself back from dueling Morgause where she stood, Morgana answered the witch. "We would be delighted to dine with you," she said, in a voice that indicated that she was anything but delighted to spend more time in Uther's presence at that moment.
Morgause ignored Morgana's tone. "I am glad to hear it," she said.
All throughout the meal, which was peppered with small talk and made up news from Reghed's lands (for Arthur knew she must have used sorcery to convince Uther that Reghed, who's only child, Owain, had died when Tristan de Bois rose briefly from the dead what seemed like an age ago, had a daughter), Arthur did his best not to glare at Morgause, gritting his teeth whenever he had to speak to her. Several times, his hand moved to his side, where his sword would be were he not eating with his father, and he clenched the empty air at his side, wishing that he could poison the witch with the power of his thoughts. Morgana and Uther shot him strange looks each time he did this, as a grimace passed over his face at each reminder that he had no weapon nearby.
After the third time he did this, he finally remembered that he did, in fact, have some protection. Merlin had returned to the hall to serve Arthur after taking care of the horses. When the sorcerer refilled his cup as Arthur was once more clutching for his nonexistent sword, he realized that Merlin was also watching the witch with mistrust. Merlin had not trusted her the first time around either, and Arthur was glad to note that, even without her challenging the prince to a duel, Merlin had still picked up on her suspicious nature. He was going to have to have a serious talk with his manservant, soon.
That night, long after the others had retired to their chambers at the end of supper, Morgause remained awake. She sat far back in a dusty corner of the royal library, going through book after book, but nothing mentioned anything like the magic she had felt several days ago. One look at Morgana had been enough to convince the witch that her sister was not yet powerful enough to produce magic of that magnitude, so she was no closer now to finding the source of the power than she had been in Cenred's kingdom. All of her plans had been thrown of course for this venture; unless she found something, it would be for naught. No, her trip would not be entirely wasted. She had, at least, seen her sister that evening, and that was worth any number of wasted trips.
There was one last place Morgause could think to check for answers about the magical event. It was the last resort of last resorts, and even as she made her way down the silent corridors of the castle and across the dark, empty courtyard, slipping past guards with ridiculous ease, she wondered if it was not perhaps folly to seek this one.
When she reached the stairs down to the place she sought, the sight of the two guards passed out at a table heightened her wariness. She paused to cast a spell to divert attention from herself, then continued down.
Halfway down the corridor leading to the prison of the last dragon, Morgause heard the sound of another person walking up in her direction. She slid into the shadows and extinguished her blue witch-light, watching, a spell on the tip of her tongue and her arm held out before her in readiness. What she saw made her drop her arm in surprise.
The High Priestess Nimueh, once Court Sorcerer to the king before being cast out of Camelot at the beginning of the Purge, made her way out of the dragon's cave slowly, looking around with sharp eyes, as though she could sense Morgause hiding.
"You're the traitor who caused the Purge," Morgause said, stepping out into the light cast by Nimueh's small torch.
Nimueh sneered, eyes easily breaking through Morgause's enchantment. She hid her surprise impressively well, a slight widening of her eye the only indication that she had been caught unawares.
"Please. It was Uther's arrogance that caused the Purge," Nimueh said. She swept her dark hair over her shoulder and glared down her nose at Morgause. "I simply did as he ordered, and for that he killed my friends and cast me out of this castle."
"You could have chosen another to die for his folly," Morgause sneered back. "Or better yet, you could have refused to bring a child into the world when it would mean the death of any innocent." Nimueh's appearance threw an even bigger wrench into her plans than anything else. The other woman was older and more powerful. She could crush Morgause's plans like so much trash if Morgause did not play things carefully. "Does Uther know you are sneaking about his secret dungeons," she asked, holding back the venom in her voice with an effort.
"I could care less what Uther does and does not know," Nimueh replied. "Besides, I doubt that he knows of your little adventure down here, either."
"At least I have a reason to be in Camelot," Morgause said, her soft voice becoming clipped. "As far as Uther knows, I am here researching history in his library. It would not be terribly strange if I felt restless in the night and got a bit lost. I doubt you would get the same benefit of the doubt."
Nimueh laughed. "Please," she said, "you are here for the same reason as I." Morgause narrowed her eyes. "You must have felt the disturbance in the Old Religion six days ago as well."
"And what if I have?" Morgause asked. "If you are here, then you cannot know any more than I."
"You forget that I have already spoken to the creature you were planning to visit," Nimueh said, continuing to smile. "You should not presume to know how much I do and do not know. I am not a blind fool like Uther or his son."
Morgause opened her mouth to respond, but a noise from above caused both witches to freeze. "I swear, I heard something," a voice said. Another voice replied, "And I swear, nothing could have gotten past us. We've been sitting here for hours. Unless the beast is talking to itself, you can't have heard anything."
Nimueh cursed quietly. "You made me wait too long," she hissed at Morgause. Both women melted into the shadows in the walls and cast new spells of illusion over themselves as the two guards appeared around a corner, still bickering. They waited several minutes before the guards returned.
"I told you there was nothing down there but the dragon," the larger one said to his companion as they passed the two witches again. "Mind you, he's creepy enough as is."
When the two guards finally vanished back to their posts, the two witches emerged from the shadows and stared at each other.
"If you want to find out more, then I suggest you ask the druids about the Once and Future King," Nimueh said, finally, before vanishing. Morgause cursed. A trip to the druids was hardly what she needed.
With a growl, Morgause left the passage to the dragon's prison. There was no telling what the beast would say, if Nimueh had already made some deal with it. Instead, she would follow the other woman's advice and talk to the druids. They were not friendly to Nimueh the last she had heard, and were thus less likely to be a part of some plot the elder High Priestess had concocted. Before she left, however, there was one thing she had yet to do.
Making her way back through the castle, Morgause sighed to herself as she passed the night guards with ease. It hardly required any of her magic to reach the doors to Morgana's rooms. When they took over Camelot, she decided, they would really have to ensure that they had better guards than the ones Uther employed. She knocked on Morgana's door softly, and was pleased to hear movement in the room a moment later in answer.
Morgana seemed surprised to see her, when the door was opened. "Lady Morgause," she said, "what brings you to my door this late at night?" Morgause's sister had dark circles under her eyes and yawned as she spoke, though she tried to hide it.
"Your court physician, Gaius, told me that you have nightmares," Morgause lied, knowing full well the cause of her sister's sleeplessness. "I thought perhaps you might like this old heirloom I was given by my mother," she said, holding out a beautiful bracelet. "It helps to bring good dreams and quell restlessness, and has been in my family for many years." If she had to leave, it would make her heart happier to know that her sister was sleeping in peace. She had also decided that at least a part of her plots could still go forwards. She could not wait for the day when Morgana would accept her and they would rule Albion together, the sorcerer queens, and create a land where the Old Religion ruled once more.
Morgana took the bracelet, and Morgause was pleased to see the wonder in her eyes as she felt its soothing magics begin to work. "Are you sure?" Morgana asked, still looking at the bracelet. "This looks like a very valuable gift."
"I am entirely sure," Morgause said. "I want you to have it, Lady Morgana. You are a king's ward and a wonderful girl, from what I hear. I cannot think of a gift more worthy of one as lovely as yourself."
Morgana smiled a bit uncertainly. Morgause realized she should perhaps tone down the compliments until her sister understood a bit more. Unfortunately, that understanding would have to wait. Even in her original plans, this stage needed time.
"Please give your king my regards tomorrow," Morgause continued. At Morgana's confused look, she elaborated. "I have received a message from my father and must depart for now. Perhaps I will return again, however. If that happens, I would be delighted to get to know you better."
"Yes, of course," Morgana said. She glanced back down at the bracelet, studying the strange markings along the sides. When she looked back up, Morgause had disappeared.
That night, Arthur found it difficult to sleep. He lay in his bed, but without Guinevere, it didn't feel right. The bed was too cold, and too big, for just him.
To make matters worse, when Arthur had attempted to speak to Merlin that evening when the sorcerer came to draw him a bath before bed and help him into his bedclothes, the young man had avoided his every attempt to bring up sorcery and Morgause. Granted, Arthur had not, perhaps, gone about things in the best way when he tried to start the first conversation with, "I think we need to talk, now that you are back in a land where you are illegal. My father will gladly cut off your head if he finds out about you."
After that, Merlin had deflected any attempts to talk about his skills, joking that Arthur must be getting sick, to think that Merlin could be intelligent enough to be a sorcerer. In frustration, Arthur had ended up throwing a candlestick at Merlin, who had darted out of the room with a final quip about Arthur's hygiene and lack of ability to take care of himself.
Now, as he tossed and turned in his bed, Arthur had guilt over his treatment of Merlin as well as the pain of missing his wife to keep him awake. Finally, he got out of bed and walked over to his window. Looking out at the city he would one day rule had often brought him calm as a child. It was a reminder of the responsibility and power that he would have when his father passed away.
Now, he found that it was a reminder of the ways in which he had failed his responsibilities.
With Merlin's revelation had come the uncomfortable realization that all magic could not be evil, not if silly, loyal, brave Merlin wielded it. This realization, of course, brought with it the knowledge that, if magic was not evil, then he had been unfairly persecuting many of the citizens he was sworn to protect throughout his reign. This knowledge lay heavy in his stomach, made all the more unbearable by the lack of Gwen by his side, or Merlin's constant affirmations in his ear.
As he stared out at Camelot, resting as quietly as a city ever did beneath the late fall stars, a flash of movement in the courtyard caught his eye. A cloaked figure dashed across the stones, and a few blonde ringlets stood out in the darkness beneath the hood. Arthur was halfway to his sword before he pulled up short. He could do nothing against a sorceress as powerful as Morgause. Now that he knew Merlin's secret, he could see how his servant must have protected him and Camelot every time some magical threat appeared. Merlin, though, was currently off in his room off of Gaius's quarters, presumably fast asleep. Arthur returned to the window. After nearly half an hour, the cloaked figure of Morgause reappeared in the courtyard, this time returning to the main castle. Another half hour later, she exited once more, this time hurrying towards the gates out of the city.
These movements baffled Arthur. If she had planted something in the castle, surely she would want to stay around to see it work. Her departure suddenly seemed even more ominous than her first appearance. Something had definitely changed to make her appear earlier than she had in his memories, but what that could be he had no idea. She had also failed to challenge him, and now left without once speaking to him about his mother, to draw him into the trap he remembered.
Arthur hardly got any sleep that night, instead tossing and turning and wishing that Merlin were there. He would corner that manservant and talk to him the next day if it was the last thing he did. Whatever Morgause was up to, Merlin would figure it out, and they would deal with it together, as they always did.
AN: I was going to have more in this chapter, but then Morgause ended up stealing more time than I expected. Darn sorceress. As always, please let me know your thoughts, good or bad!