Disclaimer: I do not own Angel the Series, or Merlin (BBC)

Thanks to deiticlast, my beta-reader

The Ruins of My Kingdom to Come

By Alkeni

Chapter 24: Love and Hate

It had taken Wesley a second to realize that the icy sensation on his lips was Illyria's. It took him several more seconds to really register that Illyria was kissing him. More than kissing him – this was no light peck, no gentle kiss. It was deep, passionate, hard – one of Illyria's icy hands was around his back almost quicker than thought, holding him against her, her other hand on his cheek.

Almost without conscious thought, Wesley responded to the kiss, his arm snaking around Illyria, holding her against him just as she held him against her. It took him a moment to realize what he was doing – but...

He couldn't bring himself to stop. Part of his brain was screaming at him, all but demanding he stop – what he was doing was an insult to Fred's memory – more than that...it was...a desecration. But...

Illyria wasn't Fred – she wasn't a remnant of Fred. She wasn't a demon wearing the shell of Fred's body. She was...she was, as she had said, a composite being, her own self: No more Fred than she was God-King of the Primordium...

And Illyria...she was...this wasn't just physical to him. She meant something to him. His mind was still working that part all out...but apparently his body was willing to move on ahead, since she was...

After what felt like much longer than it likely was, Illyria pulled away a few inches. Wesley sucked in a breath, watching as Illyria made no such action – does she even need to breathe? The part of Wesley's brain that never shut down asked the question, one to which he had no good answer.

"I..." Wesley said after the breath, "That...was...that was an explanation?" He held up a hand, "Not that- I..." He took a breath. His thoughts were scattered – needed to bring them back together. "I don't understand."

Illyria looked at him, those crystalline eyes all but boring into his. "I thought...I thought I was rather clear," Illyria said softly, a note of...was that...hurt? Had he heard that sound in her voice not two months ago, he have dismissed it out of hand as a mere trick of his ears, a misapplication of terms to a being that had no capacity for human emotion, and certainly not 'hurt'. But now...

"No- That's not what I..." Wesley forced himself to stop and took another breath. "You kissed me – which I can only assume means you or... you believe you have feelings-" the part of him that...had...some sort of...feelings for her could only hope she really did have feelings for him – but the rest of him knew he couldn't be sure.

"It means, Wesley, that for all that it disturbs me...for all that it...that it is a betrayal of what I was, what I should be, I love you. I do not have 'feelings' for you. What I feel for you has overridden my very nature, in some ways." Illyria lowered her hand from his cheek, letting it fall to her side, keeping her other hand around his back.

"Illyria – you..." Wesley closed his eyes a moment, "You love me? That is- you've only just begun to-"

"I do not use that word lightly, Wesley," Illyria interrupted. "Winifred Burkle loved you – that love remained imprinted upon me...it is a part of me. I could no more deny it than I could deny my arm." She paused a moment, then: "When I first came into the world once more, you hated me – hated me for what I did to Fred." The hurt in her voice now was clear – unless Wesley was missing something.

"That was quite some time ago," Wesley replied. "I was grieving, then. I was angry – angry at you, angry at the universe. But I was wrong to hold you responsible for what happened – responsible for her death. Yes, you killed her. But..." Wesley gave a small, low, bitter laugh. "You infected her with no more malice than a viral phage. You didn't pick her. You didn't choose to kill her." He looked at her and shook his head. "No, Illyria. I do not hate you still. Indeed," he paused a moment, "far from it."

"But this feeling you have for me. If it-" Wesley cut himself off. He'd been about to suggest that because her love for him came from Fred, perhaps it was...perhaps it wasn't really her feeling...but as she had said...just because her emotions came from Fred, including her capacity to feel such things at all...that didn't change the fact that they were emotions...

Besides, she feels these emotions herself...through the prism of her own experience, her own new...composite consciousness. Her mind was still, more or less, Illyria the God-King of the Primordium. The rest of her was more...complicated.

"If not hate, then what?" Illyria asked with an all too familiar bluntness.

"I'm not sure. I must admit, however, that I do not love you. Not yet." He kept talking, before Illyria could say anything in response, "I do feel something for you, Illyria. I...have affections for you. I can't with honesty call it love. But I would be lying if I said it couldn't become love. I don't know." Wesley reached for the hand that as at her side and took it in his. "I suppose the best option might be to simply take this one step at a time."

Illyria looked at him a moment, then nodded, "Acceptable. Provided there is not too much time between the steps. Your lifespan is far from infinite." Not waiting for a response from him, Illyria pressed her lips to his again, pulling him against her once more.

As before, Wesley responded to the kiss, though this time, his mind was focused more on it, rather than thinking about why what was happening, was happening. Now, his mind merely focused on what was happening. He had spent months living as much in the past and future as in the present. Now...Wesley was going to give himself a chance to experience the moment. For a little while at least.

AtS-Merlin-AtS-Merlin-AtS-Merlin-AtS-Merlin-AtS-Merlin-AtS-Merlin

"So," Arthur said as he passed Morgana in an otherwise empty hallway. "What on earth has happened between you and Merlin recently?"

Morgana paused and looked at him, throat catching at his words. No – he couldn't know anything. She knew what he had 'thought' was the case – and she didn't like to think about it. Not now...especially not now, after her..

Merlin and she had shared few words since that last...discussion, after...

After that...argument – though the word seemed hardly adequate to convey what had happened...

"I don't know what you're talking about," Morgana replied softly, looking directly at Arthur, who had also come to a stop.

"Morgana, I know you and Merlin both like to insult my intelligence at times, and while I won't deny having made some...questionable choices at times in the past – and I'm sure I will again – I'm not blind or stupid. You and Merlin may have...reduced your noticeable absences together after I told Merlin, but now they've ended completely. There are times when one or the other of you is impossible to locate, but never the both of you at the same time." He held up a hand lightly before she could interrupt. "Moreover, when the two of you do pass across each other, you make sure to keep as great a distance between each of you." Arthur looked pointedly at her. "I can go on, if you like."

"I know what you told Merlin – what you think was going on with us," Morgana replied, her voice level and soft. "And I can assure you, as he did, you're absolutely wrong. Nothing of the sort was ever the case."

Arthur shrugged, "Look, Morgana, I've no intention of judging you, or telling you or Merlin what you should do in regards to anything between the two of you-"

"There is nothing between the two of us. There never was," Morgana repeated calmly. "I don't see why you can't understand it."

"Because I have eyes, Morgana." Arthur gestured at his own eyes as he referenced them. "As I said, I don't intend on judging you or saying you should stop. First of all, because trying to get you to do something – or not do something – when you don't want to is somewhere between extremely difficult and impossible. We did, after all, grow up together. I do know you." Arthur took a breath. "And because I know you, I can also say with some confidence that when your...disappearances with Merlin began, you started being happier, calmer and more...together than you had been in the last few years before then. And that since you and Merlin have...stopped being absent together, since the two of you have started avoiding each other, you've been less happy, more angry and on edge. Even Gwen's noticed, Morgana. You nearly bit her head off the other day over a minor mistake. That isn't like you." Arthur took a step – just the one – closer to her. "Even if it is really just friendship between you and Merlin, it is quite obvious that something has happened."

"So," he finished, "what happened between you and Merlin?"

Morgana frowned a moment. She knew Arthur, just as he knew her. He was going to keep pushing until he got some kind of answer – and what was worse, he just thought he was being...friendly, brotherly. Trying to help her. She forced herself to take a deep breath, to pause and consider.

Arthur's right...what I said to Gwen the other day...that wasn't like me. I apologized immediately...but...

Losing Merlin's...friendship, his support...not that Merlin seemed to be taking it any better than her, which gave a small spiteful part of herself a bit of comfort. But still...it had hurt. It had been a loss.

She cared about Merlin – for Merlin. He was important to her. But...she couldn't agree with his goals, his methods. Their principles were...conflicting. She could no more back down from hers than he could from his.

"Your servant is a stubborn man, Arthur," Morgana told him after a moment more. "And he is firm to his principles."

Arthur laughed: "This is all too true, I suppose," he agreed. "So you argued? Had a debate over principles? And now you're refusing to talk to each other? What could you possibly have fought over?"

"In all honesty?" Morgana asked calmly, looking at him dead on.

"Have I ever known you to be anything else?" Arthur pointed out. "For most of my life, you've been the only person who's ever been totally honest with me. Up until Merlin, anyway. Everyone else couches what they say in the right language because I'm the prince, or because they're trying to manipulate me." He smiled. "Don't change on me now."

Morgana had to resist the urge to break out into hysterical laughter. Merlin and she – always truthful with Arthur? In the past, that perhaps had been true for her...but now. All of her life was lies, with almost everyone. Lies about her magic. Lies about Merlin. Lies about how she really felt about Uther. Lies about...so much. And Merlin lied as much, or more.

She bit her lip, wondering why the urge to laugh was so great – there was nothing funny about this, about her lies, about what could happen to her, to Merlin, if the truth got out...

Well...perhaps it was funny, in a terribly tragic sort of way. Sometimes, in the dark of night, when she was all alone in her bed, she wondered if the force of all the lies she was dealing with...if she was going mad. If the stress...if everything was dragging her under, and if she would become little more than a gibbering lunatic, given enough time.

"We argued over you – over Uther," Morgana informed him, her tone going as cold as ice. "Your father is tyrant and a monster. A murderer of countless innocents, caught up in a war he fights for himself, not for the good of Camelot. You should have killed him then, when you had him at your mercy. Merlin was wrong to stop you. He stopped you for you, not for Uther." She laughed coldly, though it was almost liberating to say this aloud to Arthur...it felt...

She couldn't put it into easy words – the feeling of...release. Of...breathless excitement and terror...

"Merlin believes," she continued more softly, "that you will be a better king – a better man - than your father. I hope and pray that he is right. But thanks to you, thanks to him, we'll have years more of Uther commanding the throne. Years more of his slaughters, his tyranny. That blood is on your hands, on Merlin's hands."

Without meaning to, she laughed, a short, sharp sound, devoid of actual humor. "That is what Merlin and I 'fought' about. That was our 'argument'." Morgana turned on her heel, not sparing another word for Arthur as she left him in the hall, shocked into silence by the vitriol and hate in her words – and by the momentary shame he felt. It was fleeting...but there.