Third Person's Point of View

From the tree line outside Ealdor Merlin sat astride his horse, watching as Morgana leisurely moved through the garden of his childhood home. In her hand she held an old straw basket, laden heavy with the various flowers she'd picked.

Smiling softly to himself he dismounted, gathering his horse's reins as he strode from the cover of the trees. As he neared the small gate to the yard Morgana looked up, her hand over her eyes to shade her from the sun. She placed the basket by her feet as he tied his horse to the post.

As he entered the garden she stepped forward, smiling gently. Overjoyed he pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Somewhat hesitantly, she held him back, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

Morgana's eyes fluttered shut as he sighed into her neck, unable to help herself from stealing this moment with him. She knew Hunith could come back any second, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "I'm so happy to see you." She murmured.

He pulled away, his hand cupping her cheek. "And I you."

Glancing away demurely Morgana picked up her basket and led him inside. He couldn't help but notice how quiet she seemed, though he brushed it off as simply the time they'd spent apart from one another.

"Your mother is in the square to pick up a few things." She explains, when she noticed his searching gaze. She gathered her bundle of flowers and wrapped it in a soft blue ribbon, her fingers moving deftly. Merlin couldn't tear his stare from her.

Though it had not been long since he had left her behind it seemed as if they'd spent a year apart, so much had changed. He felt changed, after all that had happened. He no longer hid parts of himself that had once put him in danger, he felt more confident in his place in the world.

"So how are you, Merlin? How is life in Camelot? Being pardoned and accepted there must make things, different." She said, taking a seat by the fire. She gestured for him to take the one across from her.

Accepting the cup of tea she handed him he sat as well, drumming his fingers alongside the mug. "I'm well. Life is, quite different. Though we are not yet allowed to use magic quite so boldly in public, it is slowly becoming accepted. There are druids living in Camelot now, and at least a hundred people have signed the register so far. I suppose there will be no way to know if all magic users have signed, but I believe most have. Things are moving forward though."

She nodded. "And, Agravaine? Has he given you any cause yet to be suspicious?"

"No." he admitted. "Not yet, anyway. I honestly hope my worries are unfounded, but something about him just seems off. I can't explain it."

"I understand. I've only met him once or twice before, but something about him always bothered me. He always seemed, off."

"Exactly!" he agreed.

"And what about Mordred?" she said.

"What about him?"

"Is he in Camelot as well?"

"I don't know. I suppose he is, his clan is so I would have to think he is. I can't say I've seen him though. Why do you ask?"

Morgana smiled sweetly. "Oh, no reason really. I only wondered after him. He was such a sweet boy."

"Yes." He murmured.

"And how is Arthur? Gwen?"

He laughed. "Well. Still pretending no one knows what they get up to when they're alone."

"As if either of them are skilled at secrecy." She scoffed playfully.

"Certainly not." He leaned forward a bit. "I would say we're much better."

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Oh?"

"Yes. And I think I've had just enough small talk. All I can think of since you sent me your fist letter was kissing you again. I think I've waited long enough." He dragged his chair closer, so that their knees bumped, and leaned forward.

His hands cupped her face and he pulled her close, his thumbs skimming her cheekbones. He leaned his head close, touching his lips to hers, ever so slowly. Soft and sweet, his mouth moved against hers, his head tilted for a better angle.

Morgana moaned, her hands coming to his shoulders, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. She shifted, nipping at his bottom lip as he growled deep in his throat.

Pushing back she got to her feet, smiling devilishly as she came to sit in his lap. His hand came to rest on her hip, holding her close. She kissed him again, hard, eager. He gasped into her mouth and she smirked, her hand wound tight in his hair.

His fingers skimmed up her waist, resting hesitantly at the edge of her breast. She breathed shakily into their kiss, nodding just enough so he would know she approved. His lips curved as he palmed her, satisfied with the shaky breath she let loose.

He moved his lips to the edge of her mouth, to her jaw, trailing down her neck to kiss her collarbone. Morgana smiled, head tilted back as she gazed into the flames beside them.

He made her feel things she never thought she would ever get to experience. Her body thrummed in response to his touch, her heart quickened and her pulse raced. She let out a hushed whimper as he skimmed his finger high up on her thigh, exhaling roughly against her cheek.

"You make me feel things I don't understand." She whispered hoarsely.

He chuckled, "I feel the same."

"Do you?"

He pulls back, his gaze heated. Her skin grows flushed at the way he looks at her, as if he's never seen anything quite like her.

"You are, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And in all honesty, I have no idea what you see in me."

She slipped her hands from his hair to rest them on his cheeks, smiling gently. "Merlin, you understand me. Perhaps you've kept secrets, perhaps you've done some things I'm not sure I can forgive. But you're here now, and you see me." She murmured.

For a moment he only stared, unable to understand the complexity of this woman that had chosen him. He surged forward, grasping her to him as their mouths fit together once more. She gasped into him, fitting herself against him like they were meant to be.

Agravaine squinted into the dim lighting of the tunnel he'd found himself in, torch held out in front of the blank space before him. Since his arrival into Camelot he'd been searching for a way out, but not through the gates.

He needed an alternate route, a discreet way of moving large groupings of men, soldiers, into the grounds. He nearly tripped over a burnt out torch and cursed, skirting the wall carefully. He didn't need any more surprises. No one knew where he was, if something happened to him down here he'd be dead. In more ways than one.

A shaft of light came from up ahead and he smiled, moving more quickly through the tunnel. It had been some time since he'd begun walking, and this was the third of the routes he had searched. He was running out of the precious little time he had left.

Turning a gentle slope he came to a quick stop at a grate in the wall. He grinned. Outside, up a small hill was the forest just outside Camelot. He had found his way.

Guinevere smiled at a passing servant as she carried the breakfast tray to Arthur's chambers, carefully avoiding the hem of her skirts. She wasn't used to such formal dresses at all times of the days, her servant's dresses had always had a slightly shorter front to make stairs easier.

To the guard posted at Arthur's door Guinevere nodded, smiling gratefully as he opened the door for her. "Lady Guinevere, your majesty." He announced.

"Gwen!" Arthur greeted, standing from his desk. He held out his hands for the tray as the door closed quietly behind her, placing it onto the small table by the fireplace.

"Good morning Arthur. I thought you might need something to eat, you've been holed up in here since Merlin left." She chastised gently.

Arthur blushed, sitting down across from her. "I admit I'm feeling a bit peckish. Won't you join me?" she nodded, allowing him to pull out a seat for her.

As she dispersed the dishes Arthur cleared his throat, "Might I ask why you didn't join Merlin to visit Morgana? I can tell you miss her."

Gwen frowned, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. She seemed to consider her answer carefully, her forehead wrinkling in thought. "I have. And as much as I wished to see her, my place is here now." She answered.

He nodded, popping a grape into his mouth with a smirk.

Somewhat awkwardly Gwen looked away, smoothing her hands down her skirts until any nonexistent wrinkle was smoothed out. "So how are the talks with your council going? Are the other Kings questioning anymore of your decisions?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Having successfully been diverted Arthur shrugged, "They're going alright I suppose. They have only been so bold considering magic. They are stubborn, and set most strongly in their ways, but seem willing to watch me prove myself. Not that I have anything to prove to them, though they obviously think differently. Being younger than any of them were when they took their thrones, they seem to think me naïve."

"In time they'll see how capable of being a ruler you are." She encouraged. He nodded, though his thoughts seemed to have drifted elsewhere. "Arthur?"

"Guinevere, would you consider taking an official position in my court now that Morgana no longer requires your services?"

Curious, she raised an eyebrow. "A position, what kind of position?"

"I would like to name you, Governess of Affairs."

Guinevere laughed, a bit puzzled. "Arthur, is that even a real position?"

He scoffed, somewhat affronted. "Why Guinevere, are you insinuating I made this title up?"

"Of course not, your majesty." she giggled.

"Well, I did only recently come up with this position, not that it's relevant to this discussion." He speared a bite of egg. "I came up with the idea for it when I realized, I have no idea how to plan banquets or balls or welcoming parties, not to mention how to handle guests, or guest chambers. Morgana mostly handled those affairs for my father, not in any specific position but because she was a lady and it was expected of her to know how to handle those things. And I realized, since you were once a maidservant you know the castle better than any lady of the court, and you've helped Morgana with such things in the past. And to be honest, you are the only person I could think to trust with such a position." He brought his bite to his mouth and chewed, watching Guinevere for reaction.

Somewhat shocked at his lengthy reasoning Gwen set down her fork and leaned back. "Arthur, I cannot say how deeply you've flattered me. Though, you put much more faith in me than I deserve, I accept." She blushed profusely.

"Excellent!" Arthur exclaimed, gleefully jumping from his chair. He leaned down, pressing a quick, invigorated kiss to her lips.

Gwen squealed, surprised at his outburst. She laughed against his touch, hands caught in the doublet he wore. For a moment she allowed herself to be swept away in the moment, hoping they wouldn't be interrupted by an untimely knock at the door as they so often were.

For only a few short - though overwhelmingly pleasant - days, Merlin spent his time in Ealdor. He worked alongside Morgana and his mother in the garden, planting, weeding and harvesting. It was hard work, and it felt invigorating to spend his days in the sun with the people he cared most for.

Morgana toiled alongside him, sharing secret smiles with him, showing him how to do things he had long since forgotten in his time at Camelot. While he had perfected the polishing of armor and the making of beds he had let slip from his mind the skills it took to pick weeds and not the plants it grew alongside of, or how to tell the various vegetables apart.

Their nights were spent in mutual silence, sitting close to one another by the fire. Though once his mother fell asleep, they'd lean closer, and whisper of magic and Camelot, their conversations interrupted by the occasional kiss and caress.

At the end of his time in Ealdor, Merlin stood across from Morgana as his mother tended his horse, attempting to find the words of goodbye. But besides that, he had a question for her. One that plagued him like a growing sore, refusing to fade away as he so wished it would.

He tugged her close, fingers brushing her hair behind her ears. "I don't want to ruin what little time we have left together." She frowned. "But I have to ask you something, else I fear I'll go mad with wondering. What, do these past few days mean for us? For who we are to one another. What are we to each other?"

She resisted the urge to pull away. She had felt Merlin wanted to ask her something along these lines, and she'd feared it. She couldn't quite say what it was she felt for him, and what she was certain of sometimes became overshadowed by her doubts.

Merlin, though she could see how deeply he regretted it, had hurt her. He had lied, kept secrets, and poisoned her. She told herself, and Merlin, that she had moved past it, but the truth was she sometimes thought of it and felt nothing but hatred. It made her think of the time she had been under Morgause's control, when all she thought of and felt was her hatred for others. It scared her, but she couldn't quite push it away.

She looked away. "I feel something for you. And you feel something for me. Must we label it?"

He smiled weakly, angry with himself for being disappointed. He had no right to ask of love in such little time. Though he supposed, he had felt something for her much longer than she had felt something for him.

He shook his head, bending down to press one last, longing kiss to her lips.

Together, they walked from the house. His mother waited for him with his mounts reins in her hand, smiling though tears built in her eyes.

Walking from Morgana's side he embraced Hunith tightly, murmuring assurances that he would soon return. When she released him he climbed into the saddle, raising his hand in farewell.

As he cantered into the woods, Morgana stood and watched. Hunith squeezed her hand once, gently, then turned and walked to the house. Morgana could not look nor turn away, though he had long since disappeared. She felt happy, though sadness lingered in the back of her heart, brought on by the thought of her disturbing dream.

It seemed a lifetime ago she had dreamed of him, bestowing kisses on her that should have only brought happiness and bliss, yet left her feeling cold and burdened by an immeasurable weight.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she could not be bothered to brush it away.