Chapter 7: The Chariot
Morgana was not happy to be tasked with updating Uther with the news about Gaius recovery, but whatever else, he was still her master — and she was still on this mission, which meant dealing with her father whether she liked it or not. More than that, the council was waiting to see what sort of reaction the Senate would have to Arthur's plea, and it wanted her to get a first-hand account. There was little doubt that they'd be informed either way, but it was always good to have intelligence from direct participants.
Lancelot was alone in the room when she arrived, with nothing to guard but his own thoughts. That he was troubled, it was clear. Morgana couldn't imagine what he was going through — how she would have felt if it had been the temple that had been invaded like Camelot had. Luckily, it was not something she would ever have to worry about.
"Lady Morgana," he said, with a bow, when he saw her.
"I'm not a lady," she reminded him, yet again. It should be obvious from her shaved head and her beaded decorated braid, but it seemed to make little difference for the knight.
"You are still of royal blood and a princess of my planet, whatever path you have chosen to follow," he said, simply. "And I will accord you the full measure of your position."
She shook her head, the beads tingling with her movement.
"I am allowed no possessions and no honours — I have no titles from blood, those were all forfeited when I joined the Order. The only titles I may have are those I conquered for myself. So, if you need a title, you may use padawan — but simply Morgana will do fine."
Proper as usual, he lowered his head, deferring to her words, but the simple gesture made clear that he didn't agree with them completely. It mattered not.
"Are they not back yet?" she asked, tense.
"They've been gone all day," Lancelot answered, looking back outside, at the sun setting over this side of the capital.
"I can see you are anxious," she said, "but you have to trust that they are doing their best to save Camelot from this invasion."
"Of that, I have no doubt. Senator Uther is wise, and King Arthur is a man that would never do less than everything to save his people. I trust their judgement fully but that does not refrain me from worrying about those that we left behind."
There was something in the way he said it, something in his tone, in the look of his face as the red sun rays kissed his brown skin, that clued her in.
"Is there anyone in special you worry about, Sir?"
There was a tell-tale blush in Lancelot's face. Morgana smiled, kindly, wondering exactly why it made him feel so ashamed; whatever the beliefs of Jedi were, there was little more normal than for a person to find love in another.
"There is this lady," he said, looking away. "She will never see me the same way, but it matters not. She is brave and compassionate, and kind — and for all those qualities, she was left in charge of the people of the citadel, the ones we sent into hiding. There is every chance that they are still safe and hidden, but the idea that they might be found and slaughtered burdens my heart."
Morgana closed her eyes, centring herself, trying to separate truth from lies inside her own head before she spoke again, her vision swimming slightly.
"I believe, Sir, that everyone in the Citadel is safe — and will remain so until we return. The battle will not be an easy one, but the Force shall guide us towards justice and peace. It will not be long, Sir, until we are back into Camelot."
He looked at her, astonished, and she was about to apologise when the door opened up again, letting in Arthur, Uther, Aredian and Percival. Her father opened up a big smile when he saw her.
"Morgana!" his voice was exhilarated as he spoke. "You should have seen your brother in action today — he was brilliant."
"A gifted speaker, undoubtedly," agreed Aredian, and Arthur blushed under the compliments.
"I merely did what I believed to be the best for my people," his voice was serious, as if someone weighted down on his heart. "I didn't want to besmirch Chancellor Annis' name, but her leadership had ceased to be effective, I saw it with my own eyes. It was what needed to be done."
This was unexpected to Morgana. Sure, Chancellor Annis time as Supreme Chancellor was filled with issues, but she had been ever helpful towards Camelot, from what Morgana could see.
"Arthur asked for a vote of no confidence in the Supreme Chancellor," Aredian explained, and both turned to look at Arthur, who could muster nothing more than a grimace at this. "Senator Uther has been appointed to succeed Annis as Supreme Chancellor."
The idea held no personal appeal to Morgana, but it might be a good thing for Camelot. It was the perfect moment, indeed, for him to be elected, in the midst of all those tragedies.
"A surprise, to be sure," Uther declared, magnanimously, although his face showed no signs of surprise. "But a welcome one. If I am elected, I shall put an end to corruption in the Senate."
And while she didn't doubt his good intention on it, Morgana knew better than to expect it to be that easy. Growing as Gaius' padawan she had seen enough of politics to understand that this was a long term play, one that would take his whole mandate to solve — if it could be solved at all.
"Who else has been nominated?" she asked, out of sheer curiosity, and knowing that Uther's soft heart towards her meant he would be frank, uncaring of how it would reflect on him.
"Rodor of Nemeth and Ailee Teem of Malastare" he said, swatting away his hand and dismissing the names as one would do to a fly. "But I feel confident that our situation will create a strong sympathy vote for us."
Morgana refrained from pointing out that there was no "us"; she was merely a Jedi and had nothing to do with the situation. Much like Lancelot, Uther wouldn't be able to separate things, and it would create nothing but an argument — one that they had had many times before, and she was not eager to have again.
"I wish you luck," were her only words.
Arthur, on the other hand, kept on frowning.
"I fear that by the time you are elected — once you finally have control of the bureaucrats — it will be too late for our people."
"I understand your concern, Your Majesty," Aredian said, his voice soft. "Unfortunately, the reality is that the Federation has control of our planet."
Arthur was still standing, but he seemed smaller than usual, his broad shoulders turned inwards, his left hand gripping his hips while the right one rubbed his forehead in a nervous tick.
"Father, this is your arena," he announced, finally. "I must return to mine. I will return to Camelot."
It was a shocking decision, but, somehow, Morgana did not feel surprised. She could feel Lancelot's eyes drilling her, but she didn't turn, she didn't move, she acted as if she wasn't there.
"Your majesty, be realistic!" Pleaded Aredian, concerned. "They'll for you to sign a treaty legalising their possessions."
"I will be no one's puppet and I'll sign no treaty," he vowed, turning towards Uther. "My fate will be no different from that of our people. You have taught me that more than Kings, we are their commander, their liege lord. I will fight them — I will take Camelot back or die trying."
Morgana expected Uther to rage, to say it was impossible, that he was his only heir and his life much to precious to be gambled away like that, but Uther merely nodded, before patting Arthur's back.
"This is the man I raised, Aredian," he said, then. "A warrior, through and through. Go, then, and show them why the Knights of Camelot are renowned through the galaxy."
And while Camelot was a culture of warriors, and while Uther had proved himself a hundred times over when he was king, while she didn't doubt Arthur's capabilities in the slightest, she felt that such a response didn't bode well for any of them.
Night had already fallen by the time Nimueh was called back into the council chambers. After testing the boy, she hadn't expected them to take long, but Morgana had arrived with news that seemed to have needed full on discussions. It was, in the end, not an urgent matter. A few days wouldn't make that much of a difference to them, but whatever Morgana had learnt from her encounter with Uther was clearly worrying the council.
She wasn't sure what to should expect as she stood before the twelve masters that ruled the whole order. They were, all, people she had known well — Master Deaton and Master Peter, Master Alator and Master Isle-dir, Master Ruadan, the new lightsaber instructor and Master Taliesin, who was head of the seers; Master Aglain, who leaded the Ambassadors, and tiny Master Grettir; she could not see Masters Meer-Dieth, Aufric and An-hor-ah from her position, but she could feel their presence all the same. It struck her, not for the first time, how hard her position was: from the whole council, only three were humans; only one was a female, and none of them was were all people trained with, fought with, talked with — and yet, around her, their faces were as blank as an empty hologram.
Master Aglain was the first to speak.
"There's no denying that The Force is strong with him."
She gave him a tiny nod, that much had been obvious from the start. The man was playing with words — which, in all fairness, was an important part of his job.
"Will he be trained, then?"
Nimueh knew the answer even before they said it, the way they all looked at one another, the consternation in the way a small but visible line appeared in Master Peter's forehead. It was Deaton, though, who spoke.
"No. He will not be trained."
She could feel how incredibly disappointed Merlin was behind her. In spite of his earlier words, even Mordred seemed to be disbelieving of their decision — a first, from what she could remember. Still, the Jedi kept on speaking.
"He is too old — and knows nothing of us — we have seen, not a full year ago, how hard it can make for a child to adapt to the temple. And Merlin is three times as old —"
But for all that she had been positively impressed with Stiles, this was another matter altogether, and she wasn't about to just let them waste something that was far more than a talent — it was their salvation.
"He is the chosen one," she reminded them, raising her chin. "You must see…"
"A Jedi does not use the word must," chided Master Alator, but she paid him no mind.
"He is far more than a boy too old for training — this sort of ability…"
"Yes," Master Kilgharrah agreed, but his face showed no signs of relenting. "But this boy's future is clouded. We cannot ascertain where it leads, and we cannot assume responsibility for it."
Nimueh was nothing if not stubborn — it was the sort of persistence that had made her clash with Uther, the sort of persistence that made be kept away from the council. The sort of persistence that made words come out of her mouth before she could fully consider them.
"I will train him, then. I take Merlin as my Padawan learner."
It was a formal announcement, one that would be made only when a Master and a padawan became formally bonded. She had used the words twice before, and now, she was using the third — the ace in her sleeve. The Council could admit members into the academy or deny them entrance, but there was nothing in the Code that absolutely forbade knights and masters to train padawans that hadn't been through the academy, a loophole she wasn't above using to make sure Merlin got the training he needed; even if it undid all of her hard work in the last seven years while trying to be once again accepted by the council, forgiven by her previous misdemeanours.
She could feel Mordred's surprise at this, and Merlin was watching the exchange with interest — well, it was his future that was being decided. Still, she didn't doubt the council might use it as yet another excuse.
"You have an apprentice, Nimueh," Kilgharrah reminded her. "It is impossible to take on a second one."
"The code forbids it," declared Deaton, although there was no such restriction written in it, merely the habit. It hadn't always been like this, either, and it bothered her that they seemed to have wedded it as it those were lines dictated by some Indigenous God instead of broad guidelines to their actions.
"Mordred is ready," she asserted, knowing both that it was true and that there was preciously little to be won by arguing the finer points of the code with them under the present circumstances.
"I am ready to face the trials," he agreed, eager as every padawan before him.
"We, alone, shall decide who is ready," Alator proclaimed, but it hadn't been Master Kilgharrah to speak, so she continued.
"He is headstrong and has much to learn of the living Force, but he is capable. There is little more I can teach him — what else he might learn may as well be exactly what the council sees as a failure in me. For almost seven years I have trained him — and he has grown into a man and a knight. There are others, now, that have stronger need of me than him — and I have made a vow, before this council, when called to answer for my misdeeds, to always help those in need."
Kilgharrah observed her keenly for unending moments, and she wondered if her words had brought some effect in him. He let her wondering for a while longer, while Merlin looked on them with wide eyes and Mordred stared at his own feet, humbled by her words.
"We will decide the fate of the Young One at a later date," he declared, finally.
"Now is not he time for this," Deaton agreed, before continuing. "The Senate is voting for a new Supreme Chancellor, and King Arthur is returning home," both news were somewhat shocking to Nimueh, who hadn't foreseen this, wrapped as she was in thinking about Siths and Merlin. It explained, though, Morgana's quick admittance and the council's prolonged discussion; "which will undoubtedly put pressure on the Federation. This will widen the confrontation in Camelot."
"And draw out the King's attacker," added Peter, a smirk in his face.
"Return to Camelot with the young King," Master Grettir told them. "And discover the identity of this dark warrior — a name may be enough to unravel this mystery and whether this is truly a Sith."
"Morgana shall be going, as well," Master Aglain said, his face peaceful as ever. "And I beg you, Master Nimueh, to remember she is not your charge — the diplomatic issues she needs to handle alone, if she wants to prove she is ready for her trials."
She bowed at that, there was no reason why she would interfere, but Master Aglain had always been overcautious.
"May the Force be with you," blessed Master Kilgharrah, and with it, the three of them bowed and walked outside — their new mission awaiting them.
Merlin was no longer a child, whatever the other's might say — so he knew very well that the Jedi Council wanted nothing to do with him. What reasons did they have, he didn't know. He always tried to be mindful of others, and exercise the good habits he had been taught. He was, in no way, a bad person — so it hurt him that they would think so ill of him. Having lived with many people, most of whom were nice to him in spite of the harshness of their lives, made him feel far too deeply the hostility in their gaze.
"I am truly grateful for your words, Master, but what they said is the truth," he heard Mordred say, and this hurt even more, because he had been more than ready to like Mordred.
"Truth, more often than not, is but a point of view," Nimueh dismissed, and it made Mordred shake his head. Merlin tried hard not to overhear, but the city seemed to be far more silent than he would have expected, sitting on the edge of the platform, his legs dangling in the air, hundreds of kilometres above the ground for Coruscant had grown ever upwards in the millennia since it had been founded. He could see numerous streams of light, the speeders crossing the air above and bellow, a hustle and bustle of life that was unlike anything he had experience before, but it was not enough to drown the sounds of their conversation, or to keep their eyes away from them.
"The boy is too old — they can all see it. Why can't you?"
Nimueh raised an eyebrow at him, and Merlin looked away.
"You were the first to notice him and to want to have him tested," she reminded him, and Mordred moved his head.
"Well — yes, when I thought he was eight."
"The council will decide his future," she said, finally. "It should be more than enough for you. It would also do to remember that this — ages, number of padawans — are but recent restrictions in the Order — suggestions, not laws. We all are meant to use our own discretion and the Force to guide us, before looking at it, and we're certainly not to take it as gospel and worship it above and ahead of everything else. Now, get on board!"
Mordred huffed, but walked back to the ship they had left the day before. Merlin kept his place, huddled on the corner of the platform, waiting for the rest of them to arrive.
"Master Nimueh," he said, when he heard her approach. "I don't want to be a problem."
Her laughter rang through the night-air, as if she found the very idea ludicrous.
"You won't be a problem, honey," she said, running her hand through his hair. "I am not allowed to train you — yet — but I still want you to watch me and be mindful," Merlin nodded at that, he didn't even need to hear those words, training or no, he would be watching the three of them, and trying to learn, it'd be impossible not to, not when something seemed to be always bubbling under his skin whenever they moved. "Always remember, that your focus determines your reality. Keep your mind in peace and your eyes on me and you will be safe."
The two of them remained in silence for a while, and Merlin looked over to see the sky. It was the same as the one he had seen in Tatooine, or so logic said, but it looked different. He couldn't see nearly as many stars, but those he did see looked closer, brighter, as if the shine of the city reflected on them.
"There is something I wanted to ask," he said, finally, looking at the woman next to him. "I've heard Master Kilgharrah and the others speaking about midichlorians. What are these?"
It was clear the answer was a difficult one, it was written in the expression of her face. Her sigh also made obvious that it was some very basic learning on their Order, which made him feel ignorant — a feeling he had never enjoyed.
"They're microscopic lifeforms that live within each and every living cell," she explained, finally. "We are symbiont with them."
It was not a word he had encountered before, and once again, he was left to wonder how much he had yet to learn about life in general, even without the Jedi training.
"Symbiont?"
"That's what we called when two life forms live together for mutual advantage," she lectured, her voice going into a specific cadence that reminded him of his mother when she had started teaching him the letters or the numbers. "Without them, life couldn't exist and we would have no knowledge of the Force. They exist in everyone, but often those with the highest count of them have a singular facility to connect to the Force — which is why we count it to decide whether a child has a future as a Jedi or not. And even then — that is not enough to say for sure; which is why the council tested you with other tools. There is much in being a Jedi beyond being able to tap into the Force, much that relates to having a certain temperament, a proper behaviour and a strong will."
Merlin knew better than to point out that Master Nimueh herself seemed to have the last one far more than any of the other's. This, certainly, wouldn't help his case.
"But mostly, this ability allows us to hear the Force speaking to us. Once you learn to quiet your mind, it becomes a sound as clear as that of a waterfall crashing with the stones bellow."
Merlin had never seen a waterfall in person, but he from the Holo-Net he knew what she was talking about. It seemed impossible that they were continuously speaking to him without him ever noticing.
"I don't know how to do that," he knew he sounded upset, but Nimueh merely rubbed his back.
"It takes learning — meditating, mostly. Time and training will allow you to listen — and then you will."
Merlin believed her with all his being, and wanted to say so — to plead to them to be allowed to listen to that voice that showed what was the right path, that guided him and brought him certainty. He had lived in fear for much of his life, and now that he had seen the other side, he didn't want to go back.
The moment was broken when two vehicles pulled up next to the platform. King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, Sir Percival and a man he hadn't seen before came out of the first, while the second showed Morgana. She smiled at Merlin, a bit sadly, and he knew that she had already heard what the council had said, and there was some relief at not having to explain it. He didn't know how to explain to Arthur, either, when he had showed such faith in him.
Nimueh rose swiftly, walking to greet them.
"Your Majesty," she said, with the tiniest of bows. "It is our pleasure to continue to serve and protect you."
Arthur gave her a grimace.
"Yes — and I welcome you, even if it feels as if I'm being assigned baby-sitters. How am I to appear as a true commander of troops and such if I'm being escorted by Jedi all the time?" In spite of his words, he smiled at her. "Still, your experience and wisdom shall be invaluable — and your knowledge of Camelot can only add to our resources. I think my father fears that the Federation means to destroy me — but they will find the cost is too high."
"I will not let that happen," Nimueh vowed, before turning to the other padawan. "And, Morgana — I was glad to hear you were coming with us. Congratulations on your first solo assignment."
"Thank you, Master," she said, with a small blush and a bow. It made Merlin smile. She looked positively radiant at being back with them.
"Yes, yes — we are all very proud of her," Arthur agreed, before gesturing to the side. "This is Ranulf, he'll be our pilot for the journey, so you won't have to worry, Master, nor will your padawan. Now, shall we go? Time is something we cannot waste."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Nimueh nodded, gesturing them to go ahead. "Come on, Merlin."
He stood up as quickly as he could, swaying dangerously on the edge for a second before something that was both him and not him pushed him back into the platform with ease and he rushed inside.
"And they doubt him," he heard the Jedi murmur after a low chuckle, but there was no time to ask her what exactly she meant by it, as the ramp rose and the ship moved, rising to the sky and taking them back to space.