Chapter 3: Sandcastles

There were many mysteries in life — Arthur had always been aware of that — but right now the one eating him was how had Nimueh known about the old ship hidden underneath Camelot. Considering how familiar Gaius was with it (and he didn't strike Arthur as the sort of man that used endearments often), he imagined it was an old ship, from the Albion Wars in which the Jedi had to intervene before he was born. Which still didn't explain how she knew it was still there — Arthur himself had no idea that the old vessel was hidden beneath the castle. When he had been a child, the Dragon Cave had been a forbidden spot, and once he was old enough not to have his father telling where he could or could not go, he had forgotten all about it.

The old ship was holding well, considering the circumstances — the age, the lack of repairs and the shooting they had faced to pass through the blockade. It had been a close thing, and if it weren't for one little droid, they might have been blasted to death in their desperate escape. Even then, there was no way they would reach Coruscant like this — the amount of damage was too much for the old ship, and they had switched their course to a planet that was not Arthur's first choice, but in which the Federation of Commerce held no space, and it would have to be enough for now.

Arthur wondered how long until they realised there was no one on the Citadel, and no conquering to be done. He closed his eyes in a mute prayer for the men he left behind — all of them, really, save Percival and Lancelot that had boarded with him — and for his people. The White Mountains and it's maze of caves not only offered a good hiding spot, but could pretty much keep them fed with it's ecosystem. Nothing could be done about the outlying villages; those who were under the protection of his lords. Still, he had to trust that those men, most of whom were far older and more experienced in open warfare than Arthur, would know what to do.

"You made the right choice," Lancelot was clearly trying to comfort him, but the soothing effect of his voice was undone by the dark expression in his face. Arthur wondered if he should have left him in Camelot instead of bringing him along — surely he was worried about Gwen with each passing second — but the man had insisted that he couldn't leave Arthur's side.

Loyalty ran strong in most of Camelot's knights, but Lancelot was the first and foremost example of it.

"Which does not ease my worries." Arthur replied, finally, and the man nodded.

"We can only do what we must and hope it is enough…" Lancelot said, "If you excuse me, I'll try and get some rest."

Arthur gave him leave to go with his hand, and wished he could do the same. Percival was already sleeping one of the rooms, and the ship, although small, seemed far too big for their small group. In truth, he had never travelled through space in such a small number — not even ten.

With nothing better to do, and no wish to roll while waiting for sleep that he knew that would not come, he just sat there, staring at nothing, while replaying each of his moves in his head, trying to find what he could have done differently to avoid this.

It took him a moment to notice he wasn't alone in the room — Master Nimueh was standing on the door, observing him.

"I'm sorry" he apologised, turning towards her. "Is there anything…"

"You look so much like your mother," she said without preamble, and it borough him a pang to his heart. Arthur had heard the words often enough, but they never failed to fill him with a longing that he would never truly solve.

"You met her, then."

"Oh, yes!" She confirmed, with a small nod. "We grew up together, in fact." She must have noticed his confusion in spite of his efforts to keep his face smooth. "You didn't know."

"I had no idea you were acquaintances," he agreed, but Nimueh shook her head.

"Friends — but I meant — you didn't know she was raised in the temple." Nimueh clacked her tongue in distaste. "Has you father never mentioned…?"

"My father has never spoken of her unless he could help it — and his displeasure in the topic made sure no one else spoke of her either," he wanted to know more, but the habit of a life time stopped him from asking.

"I see…" Nimueh still seemed displeased. "Your mother and I were of an age. We grew up together on the temple in Coruscant. She was… Talented, but there is more in a Jedi than being talented, and ultimately she decided she preferred to return to Camelot. There were others paths… But Ygraine had always wanted to have a family — to be a mother — so she chose to return, in spite of the advice of the elders," Nimueh stopped, seeming for a moment lost in her thoughts. "I often wondered… But it makes no difference. We met again during the war, and, of course, when Morgana was taken. I was deeply sorry when she passed away — more than I should have, perhaps."

Arthur could hear the sorrow in her words even now, and he wondered what was the worse pain — to know someone and lose them or never knowing them at all. It mattered not, of course. Nimueh seemed to be more affected by it than he had expected, considering all things that were said about Jedi. She sighed, shaking her head.

"It is useless to talk about might-have-beens, or even to dwell on them," she finished, suddenly. There was an awkward moment of silence, and Arthur, not knowing what to do, said the first thing that came to his mind.

"How did you know about this ship?"

"We used it — long ago — to creep into Camelot unseen by the Mercians. I didn't know if it would be there, but I hoped and it seemed like it would attract less attention than some shiny new thing."

Arthur nodded. There was no much more they could say, and the moment was interrupted by Morgana, who walked in through the secondary door, only to look at the two of them, clearly not expecting to see them talking.

"I'm sorry," she said, and retreated immediately to the following room. He could hear her moving things around — from what he had gathered, it was a kitchen of sorts — and she seemed to be preparing something to eat. Arthur wanted to say something — anything — but he didn't know how. He felt frustrated at the way she had gone from bossy and overbearing to a quiet stranger as soon as they stepped on the ship. He could feel Nimueh's eyes on him, but he didn't turn back.

"This is as hard for her as it is for you — maybe even harder. You should talk to her."

"She doesn't seem to want to," he replied, and it sounded childish even to his own ears.

"She doesn't know how to," Nimueh corrected, gently. "But if you try — I'm sure that with a little time, there is much to be gained. And it isn't as if there is much we can do until we land again."

Arthur nodded, but Nimueh had clearly already left. With a sigh, he steeled himself and headed to the adjoining room, where Morgana seemed to be brewing some sort of tea. She glanced in his direction when he entered, but didn't stop her process.

"Can I help you, sire?" she said, her voice low and controlled.

"I just wanted to talk," he said, feeling completely wrong footed. Morgana put the beverage in a mug and turned around, crossing her arms in front of her body.

"So talk."

He shifted his weight from one feet to the other. This was even worse than he had expected.

"Look — I don't know what happened, but you should know I — I was sort of looking forward to meeting you."

Morgana snorted.

"Dread — you dreaded meeting me," she corrected, her lips going up slightly. "When I talked about not being the welcome I hoped for, at first, I was joking — but you really didn't want to meet me. You didn't want me there."

"It's not that," he tried to temporise. "I'm just not used to being bossed around —"

"Being Uther's son?" she asked, with a full smirk now. "Somehow, I highly doubt it."

Arthur leaned his head to the side, conceding the point.

"Yes — Father is a force of his own — and part of the problem, really. It was just… jarring. I wasn't expecting it to happen like that, and… And it is hard to know how to act around someone you have never met, but have always heard spoken of as if this person was perfect in all ways you failed."

"Perfect?" she let out an amused laugh. "Not from Uther, I suppose."

"Father is immensely proud of you," Arthur said, it seemed impossible that she didn't know.

"Funny, because from where I'm standing, I was the misguided child that ruined his life with powers and you are his golden boy and everything he has left in this world."

Arthur furred his brow at that. Mostly he had heard it the other way around.

"He is a strange man," was all he had to say "but cares about you a great deal."

"I wish he didn't — he has a very funny way of showing it."

"No arguments here!" Arthur smiled, and for a moment they were both at ease. As the silence stretched, he decided to speak again. "I am sorry you didn't get a proper reception. I can't imagine how it must have been — returning to your home planet in the midst of attacks and falling ships — not the best way for a family reunion to start, I'm afraid."

That led Morgana to give him something of a sad smile.

"I've never had a home but the temple in Coruscant, and "family" is an overbearing father that is always trying to manipulate things so I won't stray too far from what he believes women should do and a brother I had only heard of. The Jedi have no family, we keep no ties to the outside if we can avoid it — we are each other's families, and not our blood relations. There were no expectations, from me, about you or your planet. Camelot and its people does not concern me unless the Council says so."

It was so radically different from everything he had been raised to believe — to everything that had been his way of life — and at the same time so similar: something else came first — Camelot, The Order —, his own ties and choices came only second. It was as if looking into a mirror and seeing everything reflected in a way that was diametrically opposite.

"I see," he said, and she nodded once, as they were in perfect understanding. "So you never even think about Camelot?"

"Not really," she shrugged, before taking a sip of her tea. "I mean — sure, I think of it, generally speaking, whenever there is trouble, whenever the council seems to think that it is important to send me news of it, but that's about it. I don't look for information on it, certainly. If the council wanted me to know more, wanted me to have any particular relationship to it, they would say something — they are never shy to request whatever they think it's fit — and I have long learnt to follow their lead."

"So — if the council were to, let's say, send you back without your trials, without your knighthood, straight to Camelot to marry and create alliances, you would just do it gladly?"

"Not gladly," she said, with a grimace. "But I would still do it."

And, somehow, since they barely knew each other, Arthur knew that this 'not gladly' was but a gentle way to convey that there was no chance in hell that she would do exactly that.

"I think you would tear the place apart before being married off," he said, and she laughed. "You were made for so much more than those little, every day things that are to be a woman's only destiny in so many parts of the galaxy."

"Thank you," she said, and her whole face was soft now, in a way that made her more human, more approachable and less intimidating. "It gladdens my heart to see that you are willing to see past the ways of our ancestors," she smiled, still sweet. "But you must excuse me, now — I must return to my room and meditate — to avoid any chance of future rebellion. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Not ever!" Arthur replied, and the two of them shared a laugh.

He had no experience in this, but he felt that, all things considered, it had gone rather well.

Landing was more gentle than Morgana would've expected from a such an old ship, but it seemed that time had done little to diminish Gaius familiarity with it. He seemed incredibly pleased with himself as he gathered them all on the bridge.

"This is Tatooine," he started, his voice going into the lecture mode she was so used to. "It's controlled by Hutts, which normally would make us steer away from it, but since we don't want the Federation to know of our movements, it makes it an ideal place. It is also a place with little law and even less to offer, so we should beware. The weather is merciless, filled with dry wind and hard sunshine, and it'll take four or five hours walking through sand to reach the nearest settlement. It shouldn't be hard to gather the spare parts we need, there is nothing closer to a junkyard than Hutt dominated planets - and it is also infested with all sorts of thieves, bounty hunters, assassins and people of the worst kind. My vote is that just a pair of us leave the ship, while the rest of you stay in — for your own safety — being the most experienced ones, and the ones that are more familiar with both the place and the ship, I suggest Nimueh and I to be the ones to go."

Morgana was hardly surprised by this, although she didn't particularly care for this line of action. She would've loved to see the place, even with the unhappy picture Gaius painted. Truth was, she had never been completely outside of the Republic's domain, and the opportunity seemed to be unique.

"I understand what you are saying, but I cannot agree with this course of action," Arthur said, his voice firm and regal. "It stands to reason that someone with mastery and knowledge will be needed to deal with the situation, but, even with all your training, you cannot be considered to be in top shape anymore. The exertion might be too much for you, and it would be a poor payment for your help to allow you to hurt yourself."

"The Force…"

"Is strong, I know, but I also noticed how tired and out of breath you were during the final dash in Camelot's palace. It would ease my mind — and my father's, undoubtedly, if he were with us — if you stayed back, Master. I'm confident that Master Nimueh can handle the situation, even without the benefit of your guidance."

Gaius rose an eyebrow, and if there was something that was memorable about this assignment, was seeing how often Gaius was gainsaid.

"Not doubting her competence, but I strongly believe that alone, and as a female, she might look like an easier target and…"

"I am perfectly capable of handling whatever…" Nimueh started, but Arthur didn't even hear her.

"She won't be going alone — I'll go with her."

"No!" In this, everyone clearly agreed. What sort of stupidity had made him suggest such a thing? "Arthur, it's too dangerous…"

Morgana hadn't yet caught the name of this particular knight, but his brown eyes were looking intensely at his king.

"And what sort of coward would hide while an old man risks him self?" Arthur asked, his hands on his hips. "There is no question — I will accompany Master Nimueh and I will see this land and help her in any way I can —the two of you," he pointed towards the two knights that had come with him "will stay here and guard the ship and Master Gaius."

"But sire..." the knight started again, but Arthur silenced him with a gesture.

"Lancelot, you came as my brother in arms and my commander, not as an escort. I do not require an escort. You will stay."

Lancelot still looked as if he wanted to protest, but the taller knight put a hand in his shoulder, and he remained quiet.

"I see that there is no changing your mind," Gaius said, sitting down tiredly. "Very well then — the two of you…"

"Mordred will come along as well — it's an important experience to padawans…" Nimueh declared, and that made Morgana feel bolder than she had in a long while.

"If Mordred's going, I want to go too!"

The way Gaius rose his eyebrow made her feel like a child, but she didn't care anymore. She knew how obedience was important, but too much of it was always a danger. Sometimes, being childish could help.

"I don't think…" he started, but Nimueh waved her hand in an assent.

"I don't see why not — come on, Gaius, you have to let her live a little — make her own mistakes."

The two masters exchanged a look, he kept his frown and eyebrows while she smirked. It seemed as if they would continue with it forever, neither backing down from their stances, and curiously enough, it was Arthur that broke the moment.

"I'd be thrilled to have spend more time with her."

Morgana honestly could see the way Gaius deflated at it, as if it was a request he couldn't possibly deny.

"Be careful," were his only words, and Morgana felt a particular pang of joy.

It was part of the nature of working in a shop — and a shop for used spare parts — seeing strangers all day. All sorts of people — in the broadest possible sense of the word — came by each day. Often, the same ones would return; Kanen called them regulars or even friends. Somehow, they didn't seemed to fit the idea of "friend" that his mother had taught him, but what did he know?

So, all in all, he wasn't all that surprised when he saw a group entering the shop; it was none of his business. He just kept doing his own job and fixing one of the droids that had been left there. Screws and wires, this was something he knew a lot about. It was natural, almost instinctual, to put things together like that — through sweat and hard work. It kept him grounded, it kept him aware of his own place and his own life. Let alone, his mind sometimes seemed to jump to crazy images and ideas that did not fit the life he led.

Some people called those dreams — but he knew dreams, and those were not like dreams. More like… Interference in a transmission. As if whatever he was watching — his own life — got cut off and replaced by an image that didn't matched what was to be expected. Worse; those episodes many times led to loosing control of that other thing, the secret thing inside him that made his hands somewhat redundant. And that, as his mother had said again and again, could never be seen, he had to keep it in check, lest someone decided to investigate him and got them in trouble.

He heard their voices exchanging words in Galactic Basic Standard, but this was nothing out of the ordinary. With the myriad of travellers that visited Tatooine for business, its use was common, although it was hardly ever used by the local people. In his own home, his mother insisted in using the language of "civilised people", so he had learnt it before he could speak a single word in Huttese, even if he had no memories that preceded their coming to this planet. He knew, of course, that he was born in a different place and that before Kanen they had a different master, but it was knowledge, not experience — stories he had heard and memorised, not felt.

When Kanen called his name, he was startled — and hurried up to finish screwing the piece he was working in before cleaning his hand in his trousers and walking out.

"What took you so long?" Kanen hissed, his adorned beard trembling with the same impatience that made his dark wings flutter fast.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, and hoped it was enough. He didn't need any more punishments.

"Watch the shop — that's a big deal I'm closing".

Kanen didn't wait for his nod before he left to the backyard with one of the people in the party. He mostly tried to watch them from his lowered eyes, pretending to work on one of the items left to repair, not wanting to intrude while at the same time making sure they didn't take anything. There were piles and piles of objects in the shop, and most places like this suffered regularly with shoplifting, but not here — never here — Kanen was often proud to say so. His ability to notice someone was about to steal even before the other person started to move towards it was probably the only thing that gave him leverage with Kanen. A good, little, security system — and cheap than the electronic rubbish — Kanen would say. Years ago, he had been upset when he spoke of him as if he was a thing and not a person, but now he was so used to it that he barely noticed. He was a slave, and slave weren't considered real people.

One of them knocked down a pile of things, and he rose his head sharply with surprise.

"Sorry," the young man with dark hair said, with a small smile. "I'll put it back."

"Don't worry, just —"

But the young man smiled and ignored, gesturing with his hand and the whole pile rebuilt itself in a few moments. It made him startle with awe — he had never seen anything like it — anyone like that — like him.

"Wow!" The word was out of his mouth before he could notice. It made him blush hard, so he stammered something else to hide it. "Thank you."

"It was my mistake, I should be the one fixing it" he said, still smiling. "What is your name?"

"I'm Merlin." He answered, holding the hand that was offered to him.

"Hello, Merlin, I'm Mordred — and this is Morgana," he said, gesturing to the hooded figure next to them.

Morgana stepped ahead, and lowered her hood, allowing Merlin to see her face for the first time. He was stunned speechless at it — although she shared the colouring with Modded (and even with Merlin himself), there was something in her features that seemed impossibly harmonic, a beauty that he had often heard of but never witnessed. Almost too much to be real, specially since her eyes seemed barely notice him and see deeply through his soul at once.

"Are you an angel?" he asked without thinking, only to blush once again. He heard a scoff coming from the door to the yard, and when he turned he saw the shape of another human, invisible against the light. His amusement made him blush harder.

"You really have to work on your lines," he said, with a haughty voice, and that made a frown mark Morgana's perfect face.

"And you on your charm — I'm sorry, Merlin, my brother seems to have been poorly educated."

Merlin shrugged, in truth, he was used to worse.

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled, moving his eyes back to the transceiver he had been pretending to work on.

"We're done here" a fourth voice, female, rang through the room just a second before he heard the buzz of Kanen's wings. There was power in that voice. He saw through the corner of his eye as she turned back towards his owner. "I'll return soon with the payment."

"Always a pleasure to serve," he said, but there was no real feeling in this voice.

"Bye Merlin," Mordred said, waiting for him to look up and smiling. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure was all mine" he said, remembering the comfort and excitement of the man's little display.

And with that, they were gone and Merlin was once again alone in the shop.

They had been walking for over an hour, Arthur and Morgana walking a bit ahead and talking in low tones while they followed when Mordred finally decided to say something to his master.

"That boy, on the shop — Merlin…"

"I felt it" Nimueh said, leaning her head to the side. "When we return tomorrow, make sure to find a way to get a blood sample — he seemed to like you."

The comment was perfectly innocent, but made Mordred blush remembering the boy's reaction to his kindness. It was weird, being looked at as if he were special, when everything he had done was fixing his own mess. Merlin was just a child — or barely out of childhood — but the way he had stared at them seemed somewhat out of place, as if it was something different than… Whatever.

Mordred turned to the side to see Nimueh studying him with an amused smile.

"He looks so much like you when you came to my service," she said, and her voice was affectionate.

Mordred didn't think so — he had been eleven when he had become a padawan, and broader than Merlin was. In fact, the boy was so skinny it was a wonder he wasn't sick, but he supposed people adapted to almost anything. They both had pale skin and dark hair, but that meant so little — Morgana and Nimueh also had the same complexion, but it didn't make them similar at all.

"You are growing soft with the years, master," he answered, amused. "Who would have thought…"

"Shut up!" She said, letting out a laugh. "He is shy and quiet and just like you when I first met you."

"Whatever you say, master," he answered, smiling back, and she elbowed him to make him stop, which only made him laugh harder and for a golden moment, all seemed to glow brighter, peace and understanding wrapping around them all.