Morgana's eyes fluttered open. She frowned. Afternoon sunlight poured into her chambers through the large window built into the temples southern wall, falling across her bed, draping it in sparkling yellow hues. Light shimmered down her glosses black locks.
Sitting up she pushed aside the jeweled coverlet that encased her body in luxurious warmth. Her much needed nap had lasted only an hour. The day was still far from over. By now Alvarr and Mordred had departed for Odin's kingdom with Cenred. Theyt were rather looking forward to watching the kings unfortunate transportation into an abomidibal host.
On the hardwood bedside table sat the silver bracelet that kept her seers dreams in check, kept them from overwhelming her. Morgana stared at it a moment, brows furrowed perplexedly.
For the first time in ages she had slept without it. And yet no dreams of the future had found her. This left the witch both confused and irritated.
Until Morgause had left her the bracelet she had been forced, night after night, every night, to endure the terrible images of what was to come. Some cruel, malignant deity whispered in her ear, taunting her with ghostly knowledge of the future that flayed her soul with unimaginable fear, yet she could not comprehend.
Always the images were shrouded in haze. Wrapped in shadows.
But now nothing had come. Now the god chose to withhold its bittersweet gift of insight. Morgana had hoped to see Merlin or Arthur, perhaps Gwen. To track their movement through the wild countryside, unravel theirs plans, and discover what exactly they knew of hers.
Above all however, she had hoped to see the Pilgrim. The old man who had defeated her with the greatest of ease, and who had passionately defended Arthur's life, proclaiming that it was his destiny, not hers, to unite all of Albion under his rule.
The nerve of that man, she thought bitterly. Her chamber doors creaked open. She turned.
Morgause swept into the room. Still dressed in the high priestesses robes, it was obvious to her sister that she was exhausted, drained of all energy by her days of solid work and preparations without rest. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her shoulders sagged, Nimuehs staff only half held in her hand. Shakily she reached into the fold of the robes and pulled from it an amulet. The pedant looked to be entirely of glass, and was filled with a pungent green fluid.
"It was difficult, but I found it, sister. An amulet of Neria," her voice sounded tired, strained. Morgana recognized the name from her studies. Neria, a minor goddess of travelling. She had seen such an amulet used once before, by the angry witch mother of sorcerer Uther condemned to death. When Merlin had poisoned her Morgause had used such an amulet to transport her to safety in the blink of an. Such things were rare, for only so many of them were made, and even fewer magic users possessed the skill necessary to use them. They granted a single feat of teleportation, concealed by a cloud of black mist.
Swinging her legs off the bed Morgana rose and strode to Morgause's side.
"You should wait for nightfall before using it. Make it seem to Uther that you'd been running all night," Morgause told her, pressing the amulet into her sisters fist.
"Here, come lay down sister, you need to rest." Taking her by the hand she led Morgause to the bed, where she laid back gratefully. "Rest well sister, I must go ready myself to return to Camelot." Pressing a kiss to her sisters forehead, she left the room. First she would have to appear dischevelled, maybe smear some blood across the her dress. Uther was going to be shocked when he saw her return alone with news that Arthur had been killed by Cenreds men. Wars would be declared. And when Uther left to conquer Cenred's kingdom Camelot would be left to suffer.
LINEBREAK
All eyes turned to Arthur as he reined in his horse, slowing to a trot, and then a stop, with a few quick tugs of the reins. New whispers passed through the crowd. Was this truly Artorious, the prophesied king? Their 'Once and future king' as this supposed Emrys had proclaimed?
He had predicted the blonde boys arrival perfectly. He'd ripped Morgause's telepathic words from Derin's head, and placed them in their minds without so much as a wave of the hand or muttering of an incantation. Was this boy truly Emrys the foretold? If not, he certainly had the power to be.
Straightening himself in the saddle, the Prince looked round the camp in a single turn of his head.
He spotted Merlin at once, standing before the crowd in the strange robes that befitted practitioners of magic. The tiniest of smiles tugged at his lips.
"Arthur!" Merlin called, grinning ear to ear, overjoyed at his master's arrival. "You came, I knew you would!" Indeed he had known, and as the prophetic powers granted to him by the crystal cave had told him, so it was.
Wordlessly Arthur slid from the saddle, and started towards the front of the camp. The crowd parted before him. Still the whispers continued. Derin, held securely by two men twice his size, shot him a glare of compete and utter loathing.
It was then that Merlin noticed that he carried two swords. One securely fastened to the horse's saddlebags, the other hanging from his hip. Merlin knew it from a single glance. The sword forged in Kilgharrah's fames and left to wait below the holy lake. Excalibur.
Another of his knowings had come true.
The crowd parted to let Arthur pass through. As he walked he looked at none of them. He kept his gaze forward fixed on Merlin. Eagerly said warlock moved to meet him half way spreading his arms in greeting
However Arthur's arms did not spread to meet his embrace. Instead he took one last step forward, and punched Merlin square in the jaw. He staggered back in shock. Saliva sprayed from his mouth with the force of the blow. The crowd gasped. Swords hissed from sheathes, preparations by the faithful, those who believed Merlin's claim as the prophet, to defend him.
"It's alright," Merlin insisted raising a hand. Nothing had been broken, but he would surely bruise.
"That's for lying to me all this time," Arthur barked. "I should punch you again. You're out of prison now, so you can't weasel out of your inevitable beating."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any idea what you put Guinevere and me through over the last two days? Dear God Merlin, dear god you're such an idiot. Couldn't you have explained at least part of this to me before?" This he nearly screamed, talking very fast.
Despite the pain in his face Merlin's grin returned. He should have expected this. After spending years hiding his secret, it was only right that his friend berate him for it. Arthur's face darkened. Quietly, but with the most serious of tones, he asked.
"Why didn't you warn me about Morgana?"
The grin evaporated.
"She deceived Guinevere and I, followed us to Ealdor to search for you, Merlin. She pretended to want to help you. She nearly killed us, and she set a legion of Cenred's men on your village to draw you out into the open, and both Guienevere and I would be dead if the Pilgrim hadn't been their to save us.
Why didn't you warn me that she'd turned traitor, that she had magic? You had time to tell me all of this before your execution. WHY didn't you tell me she was my sister? You had to have known!"
For a time Merlin remained silent. The Druids watched the confrontation wide eyed and wondered. Verown still grasped the hilt of his sword, eyes narrowed, and the Weaver seemed indifferent, as though she had resolved to let the new conflict resolve itself. The questions danced in Merlin's mind. Why hadn't he told him? With his own secret revealed there was no real reason for him to keep Morgana's, no real reason for him not to reveal her as an enemy of the crown.
Gingerly Merlin licked his lips. The answer he had was not one Arthur would like.
"Because," he answered honestly after a long while. "You wouldn't have believed me." Arthur gaped.
"I-I-what do you mean I wouldn't have believed you?" he spluttered indignantly.
"Because you wouldn't have," said Merlin. He said it softly, as if comforting a younger brother. "Think about it Arthur. You were angry with before the execution. You could hardly believe I was a sorcerer, let alone Morgana.
It wasn't until you'd spoken to me in my cell the day before I escaped that you'd regained any sort of trust in me. And once more, Morgana was your foster sister. She grew up with you! Would anything I could have said truly have convinced you of what she was?"
Arthur blinked. He lowered his gaze to the leaf strewn ground.
"N-…no, I suppose not…But you still should have told me!" Anger subsided from the prince's face. The shadow of a smile took it's place. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's really great to see you, Merlin." Quickly he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around his servant in history's fastest hug, and pulled back, scratching his head awkwardly.
Merlin grinned.
"You too Arthur, you too."
"Oh how lovely!" Derin burst sarcastically. "Uther's spawn and the false messiah have made nice. That's just wonderful. Tell me, boy," he said addressing Merlin. "Are you going to give his father a hug next? Lick his boots while he stamps on the other side of your face? Pathetic! Ughhg!" One of his captors drove a fist hard into his gut. The rat like man slumped forward, kept standing only by the arms that restrained him.
"So, been playing the prophet then, have you?" Arthur asked. "The Pilgrim told about that in a note. He said that the star was you, coming into your role."
"Yeah…" said Merlin, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
"How's that working out?"
"Fools! Why can you not see the truth!" Derin shrieked, only to be painfully walloped. Merlin massaged his temples.
"Alright, I suppose. How have you and Gwen been? Other than almost dying of course."
"Mostly alright. No permanent injuries. We went to Ealdor hoping to find you, or at least a clue as to where you'd gone. All we found were more questions, and not nearly enough answers." At the second mention of his home, suddenly Merlin realized something.
"Is my mother alright? You said Ealdor was attacked. The Pilgrim stopped it?" Arthur nodded.
"She's fine. And yes, the Pilgrim stopped it, without even trying. He immobilized Cenred's men, redirected Morgana's attack, and healed my wound," he rubbed his neck absently.
"So you were wounded then? You might want to practice more than, sire, you're skills may be slipping." Lancelot poked his head through the tent flaps, smirking wryly.
"Lancelot," Arthur said in half surprise. Kilgharrah had mentioned Lancelot, and something about a dragons egg. "What are you doing in there?"
"Hiding, mostly," Lancelot admitted, peering past their shins at the crowd. "Not entirely sure what they'll decide to do, help Merlin, or to deliver this egg straight to this mad sounding sorceress Morgause."
"Feel free to step inside to talk, Emrys," said the Weaver. "We shall gather again later. I assume there is much you and Artorious wish to discuss." Until she had spoken, Arthur had only half noticed the seemingly young girl wrapped in evergreen robes. The way she spoke was nothing like that of a child.
"You're the Weaver then?" he asked skeptically. "Guienevere told me she saw you in her vision, a hundred years ago, with the Pilgrim."
"Ah, so he showed her that memory. Oh how long ago that was. He showed you your mother, of course, who in turn showed you where to find that?" she pointed to Excalibur at his belt. Arthur nodded.
"You found it then," Merlin started, excitedly. "I hope you're grateful, It wasn't easy getting-" he was cut of by the Weaver pushing he and Arthur towards the tent entrance.
"In, in, in. Do you truly wish to hold your entire conversation in such public view?"
Exchanging a look, the pair agreed. They did have a lot to talk about. Questions to ask, to answer. Together they ducked into the tent, and as they did so, they heard the Weaver address the crowd herself.
"Can it truly be said that this man is not the one? Now, that Artorious has arrived? He used the crystal cave in a way that no other can, and in doing so has come to see what is true in the Gods eyes. Decide what you will my children, just know that when the time comes I will stand with Emrys, whether you believe him to Emrys or not."
Derin yelled a few profanities before being silence once more and finally dragged away. The crowd dispersed, gossiping in muffled chatters.
"Now, answer me everything," said Arthur. "Everything that's happened since you came to Camelot. You owe me that at least."
Okay, firsts things first, you all have probably noticed that there are far fewer chapters now. This is because i condensed the story. This was to make the chapters longer. Now, this chapter is shorter than the others now, but i hope you'll like it anyway. On another document I already have the next one started, and plan to have out tommorow. the plots points are going to start coming together much quicker now, because I've vowed to myself to finish this story before the month is out. While i wanted this chapter to be longer, the other stuff i would put in it jumps forward a few hours in time, and i want to keep things together. We see Gwen next time, Mordred, Cenred and Alvarr's audience with Odin about theior false warning, and a whole bunch of shit hits the fan for our heroes. Happy reading!