Night had fallen over Camelot, tucking her dark shrouds around the ruins. Stars twinkled amongst the gray clouds that had spread out over the sky. Rain was coming, she could feel it. Torches flickered in the courtyard where Moira walked. She had felt trapped inside the walls. She frowned as she rubbed her hands up and down her sleeved arms. She never felt trapped in Camelot. Never. But now, her gray eyes flicked to the lights within, now her haven had become her own personal Hell. She lifted her skirts to avoid a pile of animal dung and continued on the way to the stables. She had grown use to seeing her family's banner over her mares stall. She gazed at the dark green banner with the Claddagh symbol smack-dab in the middle framed in gold. She traced her fingers across the coarse fabric. Garnet stuck her head over the door and blew out a breath that smelt of sweet hay. She laid her head beside the mare's cheek, stroking the soft hair.

The last time she had felt this lost was after Ian had dropped her. She was disgusted by that fact. She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard someone walk in. She didn't want them to see the tears that were quickly gathering. Merlin walked by her and went to his horse on the other side of the aisle. He stood, stroking the velvety black nose. "Have you thought of breeding?" He asked suddenly.

Moira's eyes popped open. "Excuse me?"

"Your mare."

"Oh—" Her cheeks flushed bright red. "N-no. Not really." He smirked at her. "Ye didn't specify about the horses Merlin, don't look so proud."

"I'm trying not to my dear lady," he answered genuinely. "However I am serious about breeding them. She'll be in heat soon."

"Aye she will," Moria walked over to the stallions stall, eyeing both man and beast. "He be a fair sire."

"Fair?" Merlin placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me."

"Good." She entered the stall, running an expert hand down the steed's legs. Abastor turned his head toward the woman then looked toward his rider, ears rotating back and forth. "He's of good stock," she decided dusting her hands off. Merlin leaned against the wall intrigued. "Have ye bred him before?"

"Never." Merlin answered. "He's been waiting for the right mare." She shot him a searing look. "It's true. Abastor chooses his own."

"Abastor…that sounds familiar."

"It's from Greek mythology," Merlin replied with a wave of his hands.

"Pluto had four black steeds—" She added on with a small smile.

"Said to take away the stars."

"Of course," she murmured running a hand of the sleek black coat. "Why wouldn't ye think of that?" She left the stall and tapped a long finger against her lips in thought. "He is of good stock…" she began thinking out loud. "Sturdy legs, fair temperament, fast, sturdy. Good coloring. Bloodlines seem decent."

"Wherever did you learn about horses?" Merlin was not at Garnet's stall taking a closer look at the mare.

"My father," she answered absentmindedly. "How is he in battle?"

"Your father?" teased Merlin.

She rolled her eyes. "The horse."

"He's sure of himself."

"I bet he is." She responded sardonically. He grinned at her. "Alright, when she's in heat we'll get it done."

"Will we?"

"Yer impossible Merlin."

"You've been avoiding me since the arrival of Shannon. Or is it everyone you're avoiding."

"It's none of yer business." Moira led the way out of the stables and waited for Merlin to head toward the hall. He didn't. "Are ye going in?"

"Are ye?" He mocked her accent with a twinkle in his eyes. She growled. "You've nothing to scared of in there."

"Oh, but I do," she heaved a sigh. "Ye've heard the rumors of us."

"Yes, yes utter nonsense." He shrugged. She arched a brow. "Alright, half nonsense."

"Merlin…"

"So some may be true."

"That's better. But then the rumors have be going about you and Lady Igraine." Moira tried hard to keep her words light. Merlin's eyes flicked to her. She gazed at him steadily, though her heart pounded with the fear of being hurt again. "They say that there was more before Morgan seduced you."

"Merely a friendship," Merlin frowned at her. "It's easy to take advantage of a person in mourning."

"Is that all it was?" She asked icily. He nodded. "I find that hard to believe."

"You shouldn't," He reached out, stroked his fingers down the side of her soft cheek. "You know what I believe."

"Dreams are not visions Merlin," she withdrew from the warmth of his hand.

"Can you blame me?" He asked softly. "The boy was killed, and you ran off the day before. What was I to think? I thought both of you had been killed. Morgan saw the advantage and took it."

"She took more than advantage—" She moved away from him. "She took ye as well." She would walk, she decided, walk away from him before hurt could get it's black hands around her.

"Moira…" He reached for her, but she jerked away. "Please."

"No." She walked away from him before he could get a word in edgewise. He made sure she was within the walls before going back inside, furious at Morgan, furious at himself for hurting her.

0-0-0

Perhaps she had been a fool. Perhaps she should have let him explain. Moira lay in her bed even as the first rooster crowed of dawns approach. She rolled onto her side, the chemise she wore sliding off of her shoulder. Gray eyes watched as the sky painted itself with purple and red hues. She prodded gently with her mind. It gave her some relief to know he was awake and as restless as she was. She heard the door opening behind her, and quickly tugged the furs up. She turned her head in time to see Merlin close the door. He stood with his back against it, surveying her. "Merlin."

"I wanted to apologize for last night," he walked forward and placed a white blossom on the table beside her bed. She smiled, it was an Elder Blossom. "I realize I hurt you…"

"Ye didn't."

"I see," He pursed his lips in thought. "So I read you wrong?" She growled softly. "Oh do behave. You prod at me all the damned time."

"Only because yer a difficult man." Moira shot back. Merlin sat on the edge of the bed leaning closer to her, the sweet scent of lavender filling his senses. "Tis hard ta tell sometimes if ye say what ye truly feel."

"And what is it I feel?" asked Merlin softly.

"Fear." Moira answered. It was met with silence. The kind of unsettling silence that had Moira casting her eyes downward to look at the furs. The mattress beside her sank as Merlin went to her side of the bed and sat. "You fear what Morgan can do, you fear that all the visions will be wrong."

"And what do you fear Moira?" He asked, his fingers stroking softly over her silky brown hair. She glanced up, gray eyes shifting side to side as she tried to read his face. She quirked her mouth in a tiny smile.

"A cage," She answered gently. "To be trapped for all time." She thought for a moment. "To be kept away until old age or disuse gets to me. To be trapped to a time where valor has gone beyond recall or duty." She dropped her gaze. "I have a future here Merlin, one that involves fighting. I didn't have that back home."

"I'd prefer you didn't have it here, that's not why I brought you here."

"Why did ye then?" She challenged. He sighed heavily, trying to hold onto his patience.

"I had a vision, one that I'm not sharing with anyone. You were brought here for many reasons. I just happen to dislike the fact that you're a warrior."

"In doing so ye dislike me as a person," she shot back. "A warrior is who I am."

"You're wrong," He said softly. "You are first and foremost a woman." Merlin leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead gently. "And that's how you will remain to me." She smiled softly at him. "Now, about this ball…"

"It'll be in two days," Moira leaned back against the headboard. "Igraine, Bridget and Guinevere and I will begin on decorating today. Everyone who cares to has found someone to go with. Dresses have been bought or made, so on and so on."

"You've been busy."

"It's been horrible." She groused. "I don't like busy work when I could be training."

"I know, but Camelot does need this you said it yourself." Merlin smiled. "You're very own words I might add."

"Of course ye would," she muttered darkly.

"Do you have an escort?" Merlin inquired lifting her chin.

"Does it like I need one?" She replied. "I thought ye'd be taking Igraine."

"There are plenty of other men that could take her. I want to take you." Merlin brushed his lips softly over hers, just a taste to appease him. "Go with me." He whispered, lips going once more of hers.

"I can do that," she agreed gently. He smiled and tucked his hand at the nape of her neck pulling her into his warm embrace and searing kiss. She melted into his arms, feeling as though she belonged there. He lost himself in the kiss, so much so that the burning embers grew into a happily crackling fire, spreading its warmth through the cold room. He drew back, slowly, surely. His warm hard hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheekbone. "There'll be more of that. I promise you." He whispered huskily. "But for now little one, sleep."

"Don't call me little one after ye've kissed me." She grumbled. He laughed and tucked the furs around her, dropping one last kiss on soft lips. "Sleep well."

"Where are you going?" She asked with a yawn.

"To…" he glanced down at the bulge in his breeches. "Sleep." He grinned at her, before departing thinking of dead animals or running water…anything really.

Authors Note: I can't express how grateful I am for the reviews. As you can see there was a few spoilers so beware if you are caught up in the series. The story with Moira and Kay will be going up soon as well. It might be interesting doing those two at once. But anyways, steadily moving along. Thanks again all!