She was worried, that was absolutely no lie. She couldn't name how many times she had paced her room or dueled with Kay and her brothers and even Gawain though he was still trying to feel his way around with her. She knew it, who didn't? He was like all the other men. But her mind remained on one man. Merlin. All she had heard was that he went in search of a sword fit for a king. That was three days ago. She shouldn't have been worried, but she had been and so she had prodded and poked into his mind and saw horrors. Horrors that still plagued her dreams. With a heavy sigh she left her room, the train of her dress swirling after her. She was tired of not having any answers to where he was. She would find him herself the stupid stubborn bastard. She didn't need to. She heard the clamber from downstairs and leaned against the railing to see a bruised and bloodied Merlin telling the story of the sword. Something wasn't right; Moira could sense it the moment he departed from the room below. With a scowl she went down the hall and around to intercept him.
Merlin was so transfixed in his thoughts that he didn't hear her voice, but only felt the touch of her hand on his arm. He jerked his head up and stared into worried grey eyes. "Moira."
"What have you done?" She asked softly. He avoided her gaze. "Merlin," her grip tightened on his arm. "I felt you…"
"Do not speak of it." He hissed and brushed past her. Moira clenched her jaw and stormed after him, squeaking softly as the door to his room shut on the tip of her boot. She shoved it open and slammed it behind her; a sharp gust of wind blew harshly through the room. "You're losing your temper." He said with a slight smirk as he poured a cup of ale for himself. "It makes you a little less desirable."
She scowled at him. "Don't make me hurt you more than you already are, now sit down and shut up." She marched over to the fire and lit the peat inside of it. She set a kettle of water onto the hook to boil and glanced at his bloodied ripped shirt. "Take it off."
"If you insist," Merlin replied with a smirk and shed his shirt, she took it from him and ripped it in half and then again and again until she had strips. "Well, if I'd realize you were going to do that I wouldn't have given it to you."
"Shut up." She snapped pulling the kettle off of the fire. She dipped the rags into it and laid them on the side to wait as she began to clean his side. She ignored his hisses as she scrubbed especially hard at his bruised ribs. Hell, she even smiled to herself when he did so, he had pissed her off and in her mind he deserved every single ounce of pain. Merlin fell silent once more as she moved aside. He winced as she pressed the hot cloth to his head wound. She rolled her eyes and gentled her touch. "Who did you fight?"
His words were a jumble of senselessness to her ears. "Stupid idiot men, long live the king, ha if I hadn't done anything we would have died today." Merlin began to brood as he drank through his ale and poured another one. "Swordsmith was going to kill him."
"You killed him first…didn't you?" Moira asked as a ball of ice formed in her stomach. He nodded. "It wasn't a dream then." Merlin's brown eyes gazed up at her as she stepped back. "The fire, the ice…the girl." His silence affirmed it. She closed her eyes unsure of what to say.
"Moira I didn't do it on purpose—"
"Of course you didn't!" She cried out whirling around. "Not the girl, but was the man?"
Merlin heaved a sigh. "Moira it's a bit more complicated than that."
"It better damn well be Merlin," She shot backed angrily. "This is not something to be taken lightly."
"You think I don't know that?" He snapped and rubbed his hands over his face, roughly. "Do you think I am that incapable of feeling?" He glared at her. Moira dropped her gaze and focused on her feet for a long moment. His heart sank."You do. Don't you?"
"It's crossed my mind." She whispered.
Merlin fell silent watching her. "If I had no ability to feel, why would you come here tonight? Why would I take walks with you when the king needs me?"
"One very simple word," she replied icily. "Pity."
"Please tell me you're joking…" Merlin rolled his eyes. Moira said nothing. "If you think that's all there is then leave."
Moira's back went straight as an arrow, her pride flushing her cheeks crimson. "Fine. I'm sure Igraine will tend to you." Her words bit sharper then the tip of a sword into his already wounded heart. "I'll send her your way—" With a turn and whirl of hair she was gone. He all but cursed the floral scent she left in her wake.
One week turned to two and still Merlin had seen neither hide nor hair of Moira. Yes, oh yes, he had sheltered himself away, his thoughts raging, ideas, prophecies; the whole works were being laid out on pieces of parchment. Igraine brought him food twice a day, like a pet, and yet Moira never showed. Feeling empty of ideas Merlin left his solitude on a sunny day, his good mood was soaring and yet as he searched Camelot he felt it slowly dissipating. "Bridget," he stopped a honey blonde mid-stride. "Have you seen Lady Moira."
"She's gone," Bridget's brows furrowed. "I thought you would have known—"
"Merlin!" The strong Irish brogue of Malcolm shattered the thoughts forming in Merlin's mind. "What have ya done to my sister?" Strong, large fists gripped his shirt and pushed him against the wall. "Where has she gone!"
"Malcolm," Bridget laid a gentle hand on the man's arm. "He doesn't know where she is." Slowly, ever so slowly, the tense muscle beneath her hand loosened. "We'll find her."
"How long has she been gone?"
"Three days." Malcolm replied. "We thought she was with you." Larkin, Calder and Balin arrived, no questions needed to be asked when they saw their brothers face. He turned toward them. "We'll head out in an hour."
"I'll go with you," Merlin added in. "It's partly my fault."
"Then you should stay here," Larkin snapped. "You bloody ignorant fool." He stormed away, Balin on his heels chiding him. Resigned, Merlin turned to the eldest brother. Malcolm sighed, moss green eyes portraying the inner battle. Finally he nodded.
-0-0-0
How far had she ridden? Where was she? Was she lost? How far was Camelot? How far away was home? Her true home of Ireland. Moira's hips moved in unison with Garnet's stride. She heard the ocean and following her instincts headed toward it. She had been riding during the day and bedding down at night in the protective circle she created for herself and Garnet. The woody path gave way to miles of soft white sand and the expansive horizon of deep Cerulean Ocean. Here she could breathe deeply and smell the tangy sea, hear the rush of waves and the call of gulls flying high, uncaged and untamed. She dismounted from her horse and undid the straps to her saddle. She was just sliding it off when she froze. She let out a low growl. Why did he have to come? She scowled. She had been gone three days, only three days and here they were coming out in force with that bloody idiot with them!
She set up camp, lighting a small fire, and letting her mare roam the beach close by. She tossed more dry reeds onto the fire, settling down on her fur lined cloak. She figured they would be on her camp by sun-up. She had taken her time getting to where she was. Moira was surprised they hadn't found her the first night she camped and she was on the grounds of Camelot for that one. Imbeciles. All of them. A woman was entitled to her solitude, even if that solitude meant leaving the safety of Camelot. Garnet plodded back over and nuzzled her mistress' shoulder. "T'isn't fair Garnet," whispered the Irishwoman, the sting of tears beginning. "I want freedom from everything," She leaned her forehead against the mare's velvet nose. "I want my own life." She confided everything to the mare as she watched the stars gather to play in the inky black sky. She confided as she always had to the animal. And on some level she knew that the horse understood just as a human would.
0-0-0
Merlin was silent as they rode into the night. There was no stopping, not for these men. There was a woman alone at night that was enough incentive to ride on. He searched, and was blocked. Scowling he drew along side of Mal. "Where's her favorite place to go?"
"Moira?" Malcolm slid a glance at Merlin. "Anywhere outside. She enjoys picking her flowers, but we searched the meadow. She loves her river, but we went down there, then there's the stables and the woods—"
"Cliffs," Larkin piped up from the back of their line. "She loved the cliffs in Ireland, said it was the one place to feel like she was free."
"The coast?" Merlin drew his steed back. His eyes sought Larkin's in the dark. "The ocean?"
"Aye. She loves it there too."
"We're heading the wrong way," Merlin wheeled his mount. "Follow me." With a shout he set off at a gallop, a line of fire lighting the way. He could feel her, she was sleeping, her guards were down. They rode at a hard gallop until he could smell the ocean, only then did he slow. There was an argument behind him as the brothers debated on how to approach her. Whether they should yell and fight her or just be glad she was safe. Merlin knew exactly when and where he was going to deal with her.
0-0-0
She woke from a deep sleep as Garnet nickered in the misty dawn. She knew the nicker well; it was a greeting that Merlin's stallion received daily. It was answered with a deeper nicker. She felt betrayed; the damn horse was in love with Merlin's. Traitor, she thought darkly. She heard the soft brogues of her brothers and then the harsh tone of Merlin. "Pick her up, let's leave already, this place is probably riddled with thieves." She was lifted into the comforting arms of Calder and then passed off. She stiffened at the smell of Merlin; sandalwood, leather and pine. She forced herself to relax as they spoke in soft tones amongst themselves. She settled into the warmth of Merlin and let sleep take her.
"You scared us," Merlin whispered softly. She stirred in and out of consciousness. She murmured a little, nuzzling closer, her sub conscious betraying her as the horse had. He searched inside of her for a moment, seeing what she was dreaming. Assured that they were peaceful he slowly left.
"It's not nice to pry," Larkin stated sourly from Merlin's right. The sorcerer glanced up bemused. "Oh aye, I can tell." He answered the unspoken question. "Moira got most of the gift, and I a few meager leftovers." There was no bitterness in his voice, but rather relief.
"How did it get acquired?" Merlin asked curiously.
"That's Balin's part…he's the story teller."
"Oh bloody hell," the black haired man groused from ahead of them. "It's too early."
"Man up." Ordered Malcolm with a laugh. Balin grumbled as he slowed his horse to ride between Larkin and Merlin. "Thousands of years ago there lived a race of human known as the Druids. They were magical folk, faeries and elves and the like," Balin began. Merlin focused in, his mind clouded with the images of mists surrounding ancient stone ruins, hood figures under the moonlight. "They learned their magic from the earth, from the elements, and learned to tame it. They battled with it, forged unions with it. It's said that their high priest slept with a princess of Ireland, and she got her magic that way. Through love, and a perfect union. His gift to her is that it would be passed down through her generations, so she would always have a part of him." Balin took a swig of water from his flask. "Years went by, the princess had sons, her sons had sons and then one day our Da married our mother and she had that little bitch," He smiled lovingly at his sleeping sister. "Mum knew the moment she had her that she had the bloodline. The blood of elves and faeries. Our little faerie queen is what our Da called her. Her magic will pass to daughters."
"Does her sister have it?" Merlin asked, brows furrowed.
"No," Malcolm answered. "Shannon wasn't open to learning. Sure she has it in her, but it's faint, very faint." And something else in his tone had Merlin wondering if that faint bit of magic was dark.
Authors Notes: As always thank you so much to all those who have reviewed this story. I'm debating putting another one up with Moira in it, though she'd be paired with Kay, non-magical, but a similar gist with her being the little pain in the ass fighter. The last episode kinda killed the romance ideas for me, however, I will finish this as best I can. I took some artistic license with the show (not mine btw, shows is all starz) and with the Druids (no idea who they belong to)