Sorry that it has taken so long before another update! I've been very busy with school and all sort of things..
but here's chapter 14 (I think it's a kind of important chapter in the story, as there is some character/mental/psychological development – again :))
chapter 15, which will contain more action and sounds scary in my head :-), will be updated sooner, I hope ;-)
~Please review~
The long hours transformed into long days, and Morgana caught herself riding less without stopping, and taking more short breaks than before. Not because she grew tired (though the exhaustion was already sneaking through her body, but she didn't want to respond to it), but because Nox – no matter how strong and athletic the horse might be – wouldn't be able to persist if she had to gallop the whole time. That's why Morgana had decided that she wouldn't continue her journey during the night, but she would just sleep, like any other sane person would do.
But the nights were freezing and rainy. Morgana tried to keep herself warm by lighting a fire, that went out immediately, and cursing the High priestesses ("Why on earth do they have to let me take the Test during autumn? Why not during the summer?") - simply to keep herself busy.
She almost started to wish that she would encounter werewolves, vampires and trolls. At least, it would distract her from that bloody weather.
A week did pass. Morgana had no idea anymore of where she was, she only knew she was constantly riding to the North. On the road, she crossed several villages, though she only stopped to lay in supplies. The people were rough and unfriendly, and Morgana instinctively knew she could better not hint that she was a sorceress. Although she presumed no place in the world was as resentful towards Magic as Camelot, and she secretly longed for some action, she didn't really fancy the idea of slaughtering a whole village because they were chasing her with pitchforks and burning torches. Once, queen Morgana had given the order to shoot down the innocent citizens, for Morgause had asked her to do so – she had given her the advice to take strong action. But it was all very easy for her to talk about such matters, because she was used to the killing – the blood – the screams.
But Morgana never regretted the loss of lives on her conscience. It had been necessary, she hadn't had a choice. It had been her duty as a queen.
Nonetheless, she never recalled those days when she'd claimed her rightful place on the throne of Camelot. She'd left them behind. She had nothing to do with it anymore.
The night had fallen, and Morgana halted. Her prayers to the gods had been answered after all, as it had finally stopped raining. The earth was swampy and the raindrops trickled on the ground. Morgana got off her horse, and when Nox didn't feel the weight of her mistress anymore, she started to drink from one of the many pools on the soaking wet field.
"I'm sorry I have to tire you out, Nox," she put her hand on the animal's mouth and kissed it softly, "you're the best companion I can imagine." She meant every word.
She looked for a place without too many boggy leaves, and eventually murmured: "Næssa drýgnes." A whirlwind escaped from the fingertips of her stretched out right hand and dried off the earth.
Wearily, she sat down, and took out a brown blanket from her backpack. It had already come in very useful during the cold nights, and it seemed that it would come in handy again. She wrapped it up around her shoulders, whispered 'forbearnán' and watched the flames arising from the wet branches. Luckily, Magic was stronger than a liquid earth.
"Come and sit next to me, my loyal horse", Morgana pleaded her comrade, who was staring uneasily at the sparkling fire – with big, brown eyes.
"Dá nicc licgan áblycgan, fréond tó gehygd", Morgana spoke – in the Old Language – to the beautiful horse. Those words persuaded the animal, and the horse lay down, comforted, and warming herself to the fire. Morgana smiled. Talking to horses was a trick Morgause had taught her. Morgause, tamer of horses, as the High priestesses in Cornwall sometimes called her. Apparently, there was nothing Morgause couldn't do.
"She can't love", a voice inside Morgana's head muttered. But she ignored it, for the umpteenth time that week.
She ensconced herself under the blanket, and tried to ignore the stinging branches in her back, and – after some restless minutes – fell asleep.
After half an hour, or an hour, Morgana awoke suddenly. She lay on her side, and found herself clamping her left hand around her right wrist, and setting her teeth to stop the unexpected pain.
She had the feeling as if someone had just fastened a leather belt around her wrist, or had chained her with tight cuffs (an ache she knew very well). She held her arm close to the fire, and stared at her blood stained wrist. The sleeping bracelet, which Morgause had given her some years back, had turned red because of the wound. Nonetheless, she wore the gem, which bore the symbol of the house of Gorlois, only loosely around her wrist, as always. However, the silver appeared to light up, though Morgana presumed it was only an illusion, because she was keeping it very close to the fire.
Shocked, Morgana kept glaring at the bracelet and at her own, dropping blood. Could it be Morgause's doing?
Immediately, she repressed that thought. Not because Morgause wouldn't be capable of cursing the jewel Morgana cared about most, but because she would be more subtle, like when she and Morgana had given Arthur the bracelet with the eye of the Phoenix.
Morgana felt how Magic dug its way through her skin, and she didn't have to doubt for a very long time before she decided it was better to take it off.
She removed the bracelet from her wounded wrist and put it in her backpack. The pain disappeared instantly, but she couldn't call herself relieved because she wasn't wearing it anymore. She had never removed it before, and now that she did, she could only feel vulnerable and naked, as she realised she could now suffer from terrible nightmares. She could see pain and sadness in her sleep again, and the people she cared about most would have to grieve in her dreams, and she would have to stand aside, helpless. And the worst thing was that it weren't ordinary nightmares, but it was the future.
For a moment, she felt the desire to put it on anyway, but instinctively she knew it was better if she didn't.
Morgana tried to pull herself together, to persuade herself it wasn't certain if she would suffer from nightmares again. Perhaps, she would only sleep until daylight, without those horrible dreams?
She lay down again and turned on her side. She could hear Nox's soft breathing, and wished she would sleep just as peacefully.
Restless, Morgana walked through the mist. She looked around anxiously, but she couldn't see anything. As if it would help, she waved her arms through the dense fog, but she could as well have hit away the sky.
So she walked on, nervous. She could hear all kinds of sounds, though she didn't know if they were real, or only evolved out of her own imagination. Wolves, ravens and a blaring song. She didn't know what to make of it, and in fact, she didn't even want to think about it, she just wanted to get out.
She moved on quickly, while having the distressing feeling someone was spying on her. Continually, she kept looking behind, but she still couldn't distinguish something or someone.
"There is no-one here, Morgana", she spoke to herself, though she had the feeling it was a lie. "It's merely an illusion." She tried to keep the words Morgause always told her in mind: 'Do not forget that fear is our worst enemy.' "I am only frightening myself", she spoke, in an attempt to be brave. She had the feeling she always fooled herself that she was braver than she actually was.
Though the howling of the wolves and the cries of the ravens slowly faded away, the singing appeared to become even stronger. It reminded Morgana of the Druids who had chosen a life consecrated to the gods, and who threw themselves into a trance with those songs. But the one she was hearing, was something different. It sounded more horrid, almost like a requiem.
"Morgana!" an ominous voice suddenly whispered. The mist seemed to be trembling, and she startled. "Morgana, come!" she heard, after some seconds of standing stock-still, again.
"Who's saying that?" she yelled back. Although her voice was trembling, she tried to make herself believe she sounded somehow courageous.
"Come!"
Every limb gave its best shot to prevent her from taking another step, but her curiosity beat her fear, so she marched on, grinding her teeth.
The further she got, the more the fog seemed to disappear. It became remarkably warmer, but on the inside, Morgana still felt cold and terrified.
In the distance, she could recognize a fire. She realized that should be the place where the singing and the voice came from, and after a short moment of hesitation, she went to that mysterious place.
There were about twelve men, dressed in blue cloaks, standing around a fire. All of a sudden, Morgana became aware of the fact that she knew the language in which they were singing, though it hasn't been spoken out loud by most people for centuries, only by the ones who studied and mastered the Old Religion.
"Are you Druids?" she asked, with a quivering, though still powerful voice.
"Very good, Morgana. Clever girl," the Druid in the centre spoke, this time in her native tongue, on a tone which gave her the impression as if he was speaking to a five-year-old, "but we are not like the Druids you've already met. We are the Druids of the Old Religion, we are the Seers." She couldn't see the man's face, as it was hidden underneath his cap. It annoyed her excessively, because now she had no single clue to tell whether she could trust him or not.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. She looked around and noticed that the Druids were standing around a marble altar. Clearly, they were doing some sort of ritual.
"We are waiting for you", the man in the middle, who was probably their leader, spoke again.
"I am here now", Morgana answered rebelliously. She didn't know what these men were planning to do to her, but now she – apparently – had become a part of their ceremony, she bravely made up her mind to get out of it. If necessary, by force.
"We are waiting for your destiny", the leader said.
"My destiny?" Morgana replied, staggered.
"You are still young, Morgan Le Fay. You don't know how long we've been waiting", the Druid said.
"What's my destiny?" Morgana asked, both inquiring as suspicious. For a short moment, she wondered why they called her Morgan Le Fay – 'Morgan the fairy' – but she ignored her bizarre nickname as she was awaiting the response.
"You are destined to do great things. You will change the future forever, and peace and prosperity will return to Camelot."
"No, you're wrong," Morgana said seriously, "I've already heard that I am, apparently, destined to do great things, but I'll never, ever, return to Camelot, and I most certainly won't be responsible for peace and prosperity over there."
"No, Morgan. You are wrong."
At that moment, the air around her started to tarnish. The mist grew denser, the fire extinguished slowly and the Druids disappeared.
"No! Wait!" she shouted, but it was already too late.
Agitated, Morgana looked around, while the ground underneath her feet changed into a whirling tornado. Instinctively, she ran away, through the dark haze. She couldn't see anything, and felt how panic rose inside of her, just as much as the whirlwind under her. She heard the collapsing of rocks, which weren't there before, behind her, but she didn't dare to look back, afraid of what she might see. She just kept running for minutes, for hours. She had no idea of how long she actually rushed through that horrible darkness, though she had the feeling time didn't exist in the world she was in now.
Suddenly, as if someone had just lit a candle, she saw a light beaming in the distance. Instantly, she knew, for some reason, she was safe again, as long as she would just walk in the direction of the light. Her breath stabilized again, and she found herself smiling in relief. Even when she saw a dark shadow, his contours (she knew for certain it was a man, in fact she knew for certain who he was) contrasted heavily with the light, she didn't feel afraid anymore.
The more she stepped into the light, and left the darkness behind, the more she longed to be with him. Unintentionally, she stretched out her hands, and Merlin smiled and started walking towards her as well.
She didn't feel any hate anymore, she couldn't even remember why she once did. She simply wanted to be with him and tell him how much she loved him.
He took her hands and gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek. She smiled and realised she could impossibly feel more protected than when she was with him.
Merlin let go of her hands, pressed his head against her shoulder and put his arms round her waist. She could hear his soft breath against her ear and curled his half-long, black hair with her finger.
"Morgana." His voice sounded deep and calm, but nonetheless desirous. "Morgana, I've missed you." He lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes. Morgana felt how she suddenly became covered with guilt. He seemed to be so vulnerable, so afraid, and she knew it was all her fault. "Where have you been?"
"In darkness", Morgana simply answered. She choked and tried to repress the upcoming tears. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?" she asked quietly.
"It doesn't matter", he answered, because he didn't want to hurt her.
"It does", she replied.
"You are worth waiting", he avoided her question again, with a smile. He pressed his lips against hers. Yearningly, she opened her mouth for him, and she caressed the nape of his neck. He pulled her even closer, until their bodies were almost intertwined.
She opened her eyes and noticed she was sweating and tears were trickling down her cheeks. For just some seconds, she was naked and Merlin laid next to her, but after she'd blinked her eyes, she was made sure that none of those situations were the case – luckily.
Morgana leant on her elbows and looked around. A part of her expected that Gwen would come to comfort her and reassure her it had only been a dream, as she had done when Morgana suffered from nightmares every night, a very long time ago.
She tasted the salt flavour of her tears. In the darkness of the forest, with only a dancing fire that was separating luminescence from the night, she'd never felt lonelier. The Druids had spoken about some sort of great destiny, but Morgana could only conclude that it only meant loneliness. From the moment Morgause had rescued her from the poison Merlin gave, she'd already heard a lot about her fate. But for some reason, she had always believed she would be able to control it, so she could become whoever she wanted to be.
But there was so much more, so many things she didn't understand, and apparently, she wasn't allowed to understand either. It appeared to be that she had to be guided by the invisible gods of the Old Religion.
Did she have to bear so much for that? Did she have to wake up every night, screaming and sweating, just to hear that she was going to change the future?
Morgana felt how her own, dark Magic was taking possession of her, and how she was barely able to control herself, as if her gifts were a black rose, blossoming in her body.
She stood straight and was shaking in her shoes. Suddenly, she was afraid of herself, and of her own powers. She'd always known she was special. Despite what Gaius had been telling her all the time, she knew she was a Seer, and when she also found out she had Magic, it was beyond doubt. But now the Druids of the Old Religion, who knew a lot more about destiny, had declared it as well, she wished she'd never found out.
Morgana closed her eyes, but she experienced the darkness in her soul over and over again. She was a creature of the night, her Magic was nothing more but chaos, and she would never be able to master it completely. This was who she was. She was born like this, it had already been written in the stars before she was even born. She would go into history, in a thousand years, people would still be remembering her.
Eternity slipped through her fingers, but Morgana would never live long enough to fully understand it. But there was a certain path she had to take.
Together with Merlin?
The tenderness, which was still quivering in her mind after those dreams, startled her even more than the feeling of consisting out of nothing but dark Magic. But instinctively, she could tell that the love she'd felt for him hadn't been real. It was merely a biological reaction. What else could it be? She hated him.
She still felt those tears on her cheeks, and an annoying, throttling feeling in her throat. She didn't want to cry, because it made her feel like a little girl. Like the little girl who needed Gwen's soothing words after another nightmare.
But Gwen was gone. They were gone, all of them. Forever. And it was better like this, Morgana said to herself. It had to be like this.
Except for Morgause. She would never leave Morgause behind. Whatever Morgana's destiny might be, Morgause would always be on her side. Her sister could believe whatever she wanted, but Morgana would disprove everything. She didn't know what kind of blood was running through her veins, but she swore to herself she would do everything to make them trust each other again.
Soothing herself with that thought, she sat down again. The Magic in her soul, in her dark soul, stabilized. In the dusk, she tried to accept who she really was, she tried to embrace her powers and her great destiny. Eventually, she pulled herself together. She put her hand on her blood stained wrist, and realized the burning bracelet had been a token of the gods.
She stared at the stars for a while, felt how the tears slowly dried up, and she was ashamed of herself for being so upset because of her dream. Was it really that bad to hear that she will be responsible for peace and prosperity?
She became conscious of the fact that wasn't the reason she'd been so confused. It was Merlin. He was always the one who had to confuse her, who had to bring out her dark side. No words could describe how much she hated him. She didn't care about her dream and how charming they'd been in that despicable illusion, nothing would change her opinion.
She grabbed her Magical bracelet out of her backpack and put it around her wrist again. It felt cool, and she knew she didn't have to worry anymore.
She sighed in relieve when she had it back on. It had become a part of her, the part that united her with Morgause and her mother, whom she'd never known. It was the part that reassured her she was never alone, no matter what her destiny might bring.