8. The things we do to no avail
Merlin had finally found himself a quiet spot, something that bordered on the miraculous in the busy castle. On the top floor of the citadel's highest tower, reachable only via an endless flight of steep stairs, he could pout and rage and rant or cry (no of course not, naturally he would not cry) to his heart's desire.
He could watch the deep, dark clouds racing over the sky, listen to the howling breeze and forget about mankind for a while.
At least that was what he had thought, as, to his devastating disappointment, the place was already taken. In spite of the roaring wind, the cold and the rain coming in through the unglazed windows, somebody else had sought refuge here from worse torment than the weather could cause.
A male figure rose slowly on his entry and with a start he recognized Lance's haggard face. "Merlin! I'm sorry… I…. must have dozed off."
"Oh, never mind" the wizard said sheepishly. "What… are you doing here? I thought you'd be with your fiancée?"
Merlin flinched when Lance snorted derisively. "My fiancée. Yeah. Great idea."
"But you two are going to be married." The warlock was appalled by the expression on Lance's features. Dislike. Disgust. Almost hatred.
"Merlin, I've ruined my life. And I'm going to ruin hers." The knight pressed his head between both his raised arms as if he wanted to press something out. With a jolt the warlock realized that his friend was drunk.
"I've dreamt my whole life to become a knight, a Knight of Camelot" Lancelot continued despairingly "I had a place here, and friends, people I belonged to. It's all gone now."
As usual, another's grief and sorrow made the young wizard shove his own to the back of his mind. "You mean…..because of you and Gwen?" he asked tentatively.
"You know?"
"Yes. Some of it. And – it's over?"
"What do you think? Of course it's over. What would you think our dear King has arranged my marriage for?"
Merlin didn't like the sound of the 'dear King', but he let it go. "And Gwen?"
"She chucked me out like a piece of dirt!"
"Thank heaven!" Merlin thought but he could hardly say that. "Maybe it was for the best" he said instead. "For both of you."
"Naturally you'd say that. You and your precious Arthur."
"You once said that she belonged to him" Merlin reminded the knight, aggravated now. "You said you wouldn't interfere. I gave her your message and she thought herself free of any obligation to you. She thought you gone, never to return."
"You called me back when your royal friend's arse needed rescuing."
"As you said, you'd always dreamt about having a place here. Letters, more than I can count, you've written to me about that special subject. Arthur has given you that place, against his father's express wishes." Merlin drew a deep breath. "One might say you've betrayed his trust. Uther would've liked that."
"I should've known there's no talking to you" Lance muttered irritably and tried to leave the tower's platform but Merlin held him by the arm. "What are you going to do now?"
"What can I do?" Lance exploded, tears of anger sparkling in his eyes. "Gather up the shards of my old life and try to put them together to make a new one. That's what I did when my parents were killed."
"By marrying a woman you do not love? What about Alaine, Lance? Doesn't she count?"
However, the window to Lance's soul had closed silently. Gone were the remorse and the despair. Instead embitterment and mortification made the young warrior boast and puff up in sheer emotional self-defence. "Alaine's such a sweet little idiot. She thinks she's madly in love with me."
"That doesn't answer my question! Do you or do you not love her?"
"The emotion is most overrated. Believe me Merlin, I know it first hand, love's sweet dream leaves a bitter taste in your mouth."
The warlock winced. Didn't he know that for a fact! His own troubles rushed back to his mind with a vengeance and he trembled slightly.
Lance saw the other man cast down his eyes and blush, and the knight grinned cruelly. "Alaine has a lot to offer for the likes of me, a fortune, an ancient name, great connections and she doesn't expect much. She's an ideal choice under the circumstances, I grant Arthur that."
"She would expect some common decency as much as the rest of us" Merlin replied softly, still caught up in his own predicament.
"You're a dreamer, Merlin, as I once was."
The warlock shrugged. "Perhaps. But then, maybe I prefer it." He looked at Lance's face and shook his head. The young knight had changed so horridly. He could have been a stranger, and not a very likeable one. "This new life of yours, how will it be, Lance? Without your dream, without love, no passion singing in your blood but avarice, how will it be?"
"Enriching" Lance said with acid irony. "When all the nice and sweet things are said and done, that's what counts in the end."
"You don't mean that. You're betraying yourself because you think it protects you from being hurt again, but it won't wash, Lance."
"Spare me the sanctimonious speeches. There's more to life than Camelot. There are other places, other beliefs and other virtues to explore, far beyond your imagination. Erec has told me about Christianity, how it's spreading in the world, growing and thriving. Kings and Princes are bowing their knee to it, Emperors even. It's the future, Merlin, the future. Who cares about the Old Religion and its childish superstitions?"
"The Old Religion is the very essence of nature, it's as ancient as Earth itself" the wizard repeated what he had once heard from Khilgarrah. "So you may well say that it is old and from the past. But as long as you do not have another Earth in your backpack so that you can do without the old one, how can you leave it behind?"
"It's power I'm talking about, power to change things, power to make the world change it's turn."
"Do you really think that's what this carpenter in Jerusalem gave his life for; your dreams of power, riches and your petty revenge?" Merlin unwittingly radiated his anger and Lance stepped back instinctively. But the wizard wasn't done yet. "Slaves and wretches and sinners were among the first Christians, not just rich men and virtuous women. For them he lived and for them he died. Where's that kind of human understanding in your new dream, Sir Lancelot du Lac? Where?"
"Oh, what do you know?" Lance murmured angrily. "You're just a peasant boy, blinded by his affection for a King who's nothing but a lie!"
"The Lance that I once knew would never have said that."
"The Lance that you once knew is dead!"
Merlin winced violently and looked away, as if he were embarrassed by the other man's shame. For it was shame in this, more shame than real wrath.
Lance nodded, as if a suspicion had been confirmed, and turned away to leave, but then he hesitated. "Look, Merlin" he said after a while "nothing of this is your fault. We were friends once. For the sake of old times, let's not part on a bad note, aye?"
"As you said, the Lance that was my friend is dead. With you, I have no dealings. As to Camelot and the Pendragons, you know where I stand."
The knight rubbed his nose and for an instant it was as if he wept; and not for anger this time. "Yes, I know" he said. "Farewell then, Merlin. I'm sorry it all came to that."
The warlock nodded curtly and Lancelot knew he was dismissed. Sometimes sweet gentle Merlin could be as regal as his royal friend and in such moments there was no refusing him.
His foot already on the stair's first step, some last curiosity hit him and Lance craned his head back. "By the way, what did you come for?"
Merlin looked at the sky. "It had nothing to do with you. Someone has asked me for a walk in the forest tomorrow and I'm not sure I wanna go."
"A girl?"
"Yes."
"Take my advice, stay away from her. They're all bitches!"
"Perhaps" the warlock shrugged again. "Farewell, Lance!"
Hearing Lance's footsteps descending on the stairs, Merlin bent over the balustrade. He felt a bit sick and more than a bit sad. From where this friendship had started, nothing had prepared him for this awful day.
But he had other cares to think about. Would he meet Morgana tomorrow to fight it out with her eye to eye or wouldn't he?
It should have been such an easy question to answer, yet it wasn't.
Sometimes Merlin found it very hard to be the perfectly selfless, perfectly innocent and lovable boy in the play. Who had died and decided that that was the part he had to play to all eternity? He was a man too, Gods damn it, he had pride and self-esteem, and his feelings could get hurt. And presently he felt neglected, unappreciated, abandoned and very painfully kicked in the ass, on top of being jealous enough to freak out any moment.
Now he could nail himself to the pretty cross this made – whether this solution would be one of selflessness or self-pity he had yet to decide – or, like Arthur, he could face it and fight his way through.
Finally, after hours and hours of thinking, miffing and sympathizing with his own misery – as presently there was nobody else who'd sympathized – his decision stood firm.
He would not grace Morgana with another opportunity to hurt and humiliate him. He would not go to the forest and wait for her like an obedient lapdog. No, Sir. He would just go on with his life as if nothing had happened and give her the go-by, the silent treatment.
Doubtlessly she would beg him eventually. Ask his forgiveness. Ask him to be friends with her again. But he would not give in. Queen or no Queen, she would have to learn she couldn't treat him like that and get away with it unpunished.
Very satisfied with himself, he climbed down the stairs and searched for Gaius and Gwaine, to make some overdue apologies.
Poor Merlin. If Khilgarrah had been there instead of pacing restlessly in his far away refuge, torn apart between the wish to let a newly shaped destiny enfold itself alone and the urge to run to their aid, he would doubtlessly have said exactly that.
Poor hapless young warlock.
So great and emphatic when it came to other people's bad luck and misunderstandings and yet as blind and foolish as the next man when it came to his own.
Forcing a merry smile to his face, Merlin held fast to his resolve, although it hurt like hell, while the object of his jealous spite had no idea whatsoever that anything was amiss.
Instead the Queen was in a brilliant mood when her brother searched her out on the next morning.
"Morgana, I must talk to you."
"Hurry up, Morgause will open the festival in an hour and I can't find my lace shawl."
"I…. It's about you and Merlin, actually. I think…. That is, Guinivere and I think…."
"That I should be more discreet?" Morgana turned away from the mirror to face her awkward brother. "Really, Arthur, don't be childish. I'm a grown up woman, I can do what I want." She scrutinized him. "I hope Marke's ideas of virtue and chastity have not rubbed off on you?"
"No, it's not that, it's..." Arthur was writhing pitifully. Give His Majesty a room full of hostile noblemen or a gathering of angered citizens and he could be a master of tact and diplomacy. But not with someone who was close to his heart. So Arthur did what he always did when he was lost for a better solution; he blurted it out as it came to his mind, crudely and rashly and without any consideration at all.
"Should you get pregnant the succession must be reconsidered. I – we – have some ideas but I'm not sure you'll like them."
Morgana stood thunderstruck, her eyes almost growing out of their sockets. "I do beg Your Majesty's pardon, but are you mad?"
"No, I…. blast it, Morgana these things must be addressed. They're important. We may seem to be secured, but our life still is a casket of oil with a burning torch hanging over it. If something happens to me or you tomorrow or next year and the succession is not regulated by law, what do you think would happen?"
The Queen lost her frown and, with some effort, bit back an amused grin. "This is coming from Gwen, is it not? Now that your second one is under way, the evil gossip is harder to ignore. Is that it?"
"Gossip? What gossip?" As if he did not know.
"That she once told our father that Margaly is not your child and some people claim to have seen her being a bit too familiar with one of your knights before we came back to Camelot. It's all absurd and ridiculous of course, but people count the months after hearing such rumours, little brother. Gwen has every right to be concerned."
She saw Arthur pale and hugged him spontaneously. "You're such a great King little brother, how can you be such a baby sometimes?" Morgana chuckled when she felt him flinch in anger. "Arthur, did you really think you could marry a handmaiden without people wagging their tongues in the most vicious way possible?"
"Whom I marry is my affair!"
"I wholeheartedly agree. But as everybody gossips and we unfortunately need some living subjects to rule over, you cannot make them all a head shorter, as they undoubtedly deserve for slandering your wife. So, you go and have Geoffrey make a draft of the new succession act and I'll sign it without even reading it. Big promise little brother!"
Arthur didn't believe his ears. Was that all? 'Gwen is right' and that was that? Who had been imagining problems now, he or his wife? "But…. How can you? What about your own children?"
Morgana sighed theatrically. "Arthur, tell me, was it pleasurable to grow up as the heir to Camelot's throne?"
The question left him dumbfounded for a while. Finally he managed to say "not really."
"Then why on earth should I desire the same fate for my child?"
"You were once desirous enough to get the throne, desirous enough to see me dead."
The Queen closed her eyes briefly, struggling for patience. That again! "I've told you what I really wanted, Uther's head and a place earned in Camelot for me; the Isle rebuild for my sister's sake. Our father is dead, I'm Queen of Camelot and together we've done more for the Old Religion than I'd ever thought we could do. I'm content, little brother. Besides, there will be no child. You can tell your wife that."
"I'm sorry, Morgana" Arthur said, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. "I didn't want to offend you. I would never think to…. It's not for me to say if you're to have a child or not."
"Well, as you're my brother, anything else would exceed even my libertine boundaries of decency" Morgana replied drily. "That's not what I meant. Merlin and I are still in the very beginning, if you must know."
She had no wish to discuss, not even with her brother, what she had found in Geoffrey's library, in some ancient texts. That a Destroyer must not – in fact could not – have a child. A Destroyer's task in life was death, not giving new life.
It haunted her ever since she'd read it. What if Gaius' words and these ancient prophecies were true?
Morgana met Arthur's gaze once more. "Tell your Lady she can put her worries to rest, little brother. I have my own destiny to fulfil and who claims the throne after I'm gone is the least of my troubles."
Arthur nodded, face still red and hot. "Thanks, big sister. I owe you. We both owe you."
"Yes" she giggled to hide her nervousness. "A new lace shawl. I'll never find my old one in time for the opening ceremony."
"Let's go and ask your sister in law if she can borrow you one. If she can't, I'll go and steal one for you. Old fat Lady Harundale's shawl is far too pretty for her, don't you think?"
"For shame Your Majesty, she headed your nursery staff when you were a child."
"My thoughts exactly. She deserves every mischief I can think of!"
Everyone noticed the radiant mood and the unusual harmony between the royal siblings during the ceremony, especially as the King was remarkably cool towards his wife.
Most guests and onlookers commented fondly on the obvious affection between brother and sister. Only Erec mistook it for a sign of the King's abominable fondness for the Old Religion and the unnatural female wretches who served it.
Outside the festive halls and row of guards, the people of Camelot had also flocked to the stands with affordable food and wine, the jugglers, the fire-drinkers and all the other sensations awaiting them.
Minnie from the Crooked Captain was among them and she enjoyed herself thoroughly.
When her most favourite Royals appeared on the balcony, she almost shouted her head off, and she told all her friends that she had been the first one to cheer them on their return; because she for one had always known that the throne and the realm were rightfully theirs, an' no mistake.
When darkness finally fell, Minnie became much quieter. She hadn't really come for the roasted meat or for the wine, not even for a glimpse at the Pendragons and their lot, although she adored them all.
No, Minnie had come to close the old chapters of her life for good and to open a new book. The man she had come to see was approaching her now, and she knew what he wanted her to do.
Finally she met him discreetly behind one of the stables and when he took her hand, the stout, resolute woman blushed like a young girl on her first date.
Silently they found their way into the forests, like many other couples did, protected by the falling dawn, the dense trees and the other people's wish to be left alone as much as they did.
Minnie and her new love walked a while, until they reached a clearing the man had chosen special for this night. He had brought everything, blankets, food, drink, a lantern – even a poetry book with love verses, although he had had to borrow that from a friend.
It was a pity that someone else had reached the fine spot first.
Minni caught her breath.
There, by the lakeside, her naked skin shimmering in the soft moonlight, was a young woman with raven black hair flowing down her pale back. She had brought the same things and obviously for the same purpose, as she wasn't alone. By her side, holding her hand, his own clothes carelessly discarded nearby, was a man whom Minni recognized immediately as the young sorcerer all had once known as the Crown Prince's manservant, back in the old days of King Uther's rule.
The landlady gawked when the woman pulled her hand through Merlin's hair gently before she kissed him passionately. Without thinking Minni changed her position somewhat to get a better view. She gasped when she recognized the woman's face.
"It's her" she whispered frantically. "It's the Queen!"
Minnie almost doubled over when her partner took her arm and dragged her away. "What are you doing?"
"Search us another place. Or do you think she's interested in sharing right now?"
"Imagine that" Minnie said breathlessly when they finally settled down in a meadow by a pond. "Her Majesty on Beltane night in the forest, just like us. With a man. How very romantic."
"Speaking about it, my dear…." her partner said and some minutes later, Minnie was in the very centre of her own romance and she forgot about everything else rather quickly.
"There was someone in the bushes a while ago" Merlin meanwhile said, snuggling up to the woman he loved.
"There're a lot of people in the bushes tonight" Morgana replied dreamily. "That's what people did in the old times on Beltane night. Love each other."
"And I thought you wanted us to meet only to give me the push."
"You are an idiot!"
"That's what your brother usually says."
"And you would always obey your King."
"And my Queen."
She turned and rested on her back; legs sprawled out, an arm under her head, her dress and cloak a silken blanket underneath her. The light made her exposed skin glitter from head to toe and he marvelled at her beauty.
"I'm glad you came" Morgana said softly, touching his cheek with her fingertips. "All of a sudden I had I feared you wouldn't."
"I could not stay away in the end. I had to come, although I didn't want to."
"Do you regret it?"
"No. Surely not."
"Then come to me again!"
"Is that an order?"
"Yes. It most definitely is."
Later Morgana started slightly, waking Merlin from a dreamlike state. "It's near midnight now, is it not?"
"Yes" the warlock grinned. "The sacred hour."
When she embraced his neck and pulled him down, there was no more use for talking.
When the Camelot bells struck twelve, their bodies, souls and magic melted into each other, freeing Morgana's inner being from its restraints, but other than all the wise magic-experts would have thought, it - just this once – it didn't destroy.
It was warm and gentle, comforting and reassuring, with no wish to cause havoc.
Well, almost no wish.
In their all consuming bliss a thunderstorm was created that blew through all the makeshift tents and campsites of the forest, followed by a warm but heavy rainfall that washed away the last remainders of Minnie's momentous night.
But she didn't mind. Laughing and shouting she and her partner grabbed what possessions they could reach and ran home, still thinking that it had been a perfect night.
Most of the others did exactly the same and only a handful of people begrudged that they were as wet as drowned cats.
The two wizards who unknowingly had brought about the storm lay side by side. Dry and warm and cosy in each others arms, they slept until the morning came.