There was a storm brewing. She could feel it in her blood, see it in the skies. The cold wind rolled off the ocean and wrapped its hands around her, chilling her to the bone. It stung her eyes, made them tear and run as if she had eaten a spicy food. Merlin watched uneasily from the tower he had crafted into his new work room. She knew. She had to have known. Why else would she be out there? Maybe she didn't know, maybe she just wanted her solitude. Yes, that had to be it. She wanted solitude. Even as he settled down at his worktable he was reaching out to her. If I did help him what would happen? She asked herself.

Don't help him, He inserted his own words into her mind. We don't know his motive.

Is there a motive? She challenged, glancing toward the tower. He wasn't in the window. Scowling she lifted the edge of her skirt and headed inside.

Everyone has a motive. He replied. Silence. He frowned, it could have been that she had broken the contact to rant and rave about him, not unusual. The door to his workroom slammed open. Moira stood in the doorway frame by the fire from the torches. "And who do ye think ye are ta tell me what ta do?" She snarled. "Motive or no if it gets him away from me and Camelot then by God I will help that rat bastard!"

Merlin dropped the piece of charcoal he had been using and rose to his full height. Though Moira's legs itched to run, and shrink into a corner she stood her ground. "If it' your wish to do so Moira, I can't stop you."

"That's always yer way isn't it?" She whispered coldly. "Ye never stop me. I always end up doing somethin' stupid and ye never stop me!"

"You're too damn stubborn to try and get even a lick of sense into that barricaded brain of yours!" Merlin shouted back. She slammed the door shut behind her with a sharp gust of wind. "Oh, what are you going to do now?" He asked irritably. "Blow wind at me? Scary!"

"Don't test me Merlin," She warned through gritted teeth. "I'm not in the mood."

"You're not in the mood—" He repeated. "I'm going to bring up a moment that happened last night at the ball, care to come with me?"'

"Don't ye dare!" It was too late.

The dancers circled around the hall gracefully, as if on air. She stood to the side, catching her breath from the wild spin Gawain had taken her in. Merlin slipped up beside her. "You surpass your sister tonight," He murmured in her ear. "You shine like the north star while she remains to be on seen."

"Ye flatter me Merlin," she replied uneasily. "T'isn't something I'm used to." She glanced up at him, gray eyes like smoke. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm in a rare mood." He replied, taking her hand to lead her away. "The ball is boring."

Her heart beat a little faster as she realized where they were heading. "Merlin…"

"Garnet and Abastor have been, shall we say, having a rollicking good time."

"Ye worry me sometimes," Moira admitted with a smirk. "Has she taken to him yet?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it." Merlin pushed the door to his room open. "Has her mistress taken to anyone?" He asked lightly. She smiled, moved into his arms. "Yes?" He edged on, unsurely. She nodded, rising onto her toes to press her lips to his. "Hmm, yes indeed." He wrapped his arms around her, plunging into the kiss blindly. She wanted this, oh yes she wanted this. Moira pulled the tunic from his breeches, running her hands under and up. Smooth, chiseled muscle rippled beneath her palm. His lithe fingers untied the strings of her dress. Moving his lips down the smooth column of her neck, the dress pooled at her feet. His large hands lifted her off her feet and laid her gently on the bed.

Leaning back he ran his gaze along her body let his hand run from her thigh to her rib cage. His hands cupped her supple breasts, thumbs caressing the nipples into peaks. "Do you know how long I've imagined this?" He whispered pressing his lips to the side of her neck, combing the hair from her face. She pulled the tunic away from his body pulling him close, relishing the feeling of his hard muscles, the smoothness of his skin. He freed himself of his pants. She lay beneath him; gray eyes darkened with passion, polished oak hair tussled across the silken sheets. He ran his head down between her breasts, large callused fingers leaving a trail of goose bumps. Finally his hand found its mark between her legs.

She was hot, wet and ready, Still, he thought as he kissed her, still all he wanted to do was please her. She was like a well aged wine, sweet to the taste, drugging and addictive. She writhed beneath him, impatient as always. His eyes went cross-eyed as her long fingers wrapped around his length. Laughing hoarsely he pressed a kiss to each peaked nipple before letting himself slide into the warm abyss. She clamped around him, an anchor in the middle of a raging storm. It wasn't like her to be like this, Moira thought as her body rocked against Merlin's. So free with herself, so confident. She rolled them, and rose high above him, hips moving in her own rhythm. Merlin watched the power darken in her eyes, throughout Camelot the fires rose higher, flames dancing. His hands lay on her hips, hazel eyes watching the woman above him. His grip tightened as he flipped them, grunting and panting he shook and shuddered even as she bit his shoulder in an attempt to block out a loud moan. She clenched and unclenched around his softening cock.

Merlin dropped his forehead onto hers, panting softly. He brushed his fingers gently on her hair, kissing the side of her chin, her eyebrows, her eyelids, the tip of her nose and finally her mouth. She smiled lazily against his lips and murmured in displeasure as he pulled out and flopped not too ceremoniously on his side. She curled up on her side, sedated from both wonderful sex. Merlin lay on his side, gazing at her. She looked like a cat that had gorged itself on a bucket of cream. She nestled into his arms, closing her eyes. Merlin press his lips together, and knew by the light that was filling him he would love her, and lose her. The words that had entered his head had been foreign but they planted a seed of doubt. 'Moira doesn't cry, but she'll cry for you'.

Moira yanked herself away from him, cheeks flushed, body taut. His eyes were dark as he watched her. She stepped away, shaking her head. "We shouldn't have—"

"Why?"

"Merlin, if there was—if we had—If I become—" She couldn't even find the words. Merlin narrowed his eyes, and gave up searching her. Baby. The single thought had him cursing and pacing. She stood where she was, hands clasped together. "Didn't think of that did ye? Of what a child from both Druid and Sorcerer could make."

"Moira…are you?" Merlin crossed the floor to her, eyes worried.

"I don't know Merlin. Tis to soon…" Moira hugged herself, dropped her head. "Tis nothin' we can do if I am."

"I can marry you…"

"Yer not listenin' to me!" She stamped her foot.

His eyes flashed, his muscles stiffened at the accusation. "Maybe because you're not explaining."

"I can't marry a sorcerer, tis better to be an old spinster than—"

"Than marry the likes of a sorcerer?" He finished darkly.

She bit back a sharp response instead she said the truth. "Then bring shame on my family."

"Well, then, my lady," He gave a mocking bow. "I'll just go back to my ways and keep you from shaming your family."

"Merlin."

"Leave."

"As ye wish," Moira McCreedy lifted her chin, gray eyes steely. She stepped out of the room and closed the door softly. With a heavy weight lying on her heart she pressed her a hand to her stomach and wondered.