Chapter 27: The Witch and the Dragonlord

It was well into the evening when Morgana was finally let into the castle.

She had presented herself to the mercenaries who were guarding the outer wall. A small demonstration of her magic had been enough to convince them of her identity. She had demanded to be taken to Morgause at once, which had turned out to be more difficult than she had anticipated. It was not simply complicated because of the mindless brutes that were escorting her, but it was physically challenging because of the depth and width of the moat that was now surrounding Camelot. As a result of it, it was now almost possible to get into the city except by climbing a wall. Morgause's thugs had created a few entry points with wooden ladders and ropes. However, they had clearly not imagined giving access to a lady.

But Morgana wasn't going to wait around for them to build a more decent ladder. She was, after all, a powerful witch.

Taking the lead, she selected a strong rope and, using her magic, she made the rope rise above the wall. Then she wrapped her foot around the rope and instantly she was lifted into the air as though she weighted next to nothing.

The looks of awe that she received were priceless. At that moment, she knew that none would stand in her way. She, on the other hand, had to remain like stone. She could not let her emotions known to anybody inside the castle. She couldn't let anyone know how much that she was frightened. She had seen Morgause's wrath before, and she dared not think about what would happen if she failed to kill her.

The many corridors of the castle were dark and quiet. All that she could perceive was the occasional shuffling of feet or the glow of torchlight. The guards took her to a chamber that she knew well: the king's dining hall.

As soon as the doors swing opened, she knew that her greatest trial had begun.

"Sister!" cried out Morgause.

Before Morgana could even take a good look at her, Morgause had wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She was caressing her hair, stroking her cheeks, kissing her brow.

"I was loosing hope that I would ever see you again," the witch whispered in Morgana's ear. "What happened?"

Morgana had well prepared herself for that question. Her made-up story was ready. After all, lying was something that she was really good at. Morgause took her to the table, offered her bread and fruits, and sat in silence as Morgana related to her the main events of the last few years. She names King Lot has her captor. She mentioned being sick and having some difficulty remembering who she was. But a brief sight of Arthur Pendragon had brought everything back to her in a flash. The thought of seeing her sister again had given her strength to escape.

"And now we are whole again, sister," Morgause whispered softly. She reached out to hold Morgana's hand. She was stroking it as though it was precious. "I wish I could have been there to heal you, but I could not even feel your presence. Couldn't you have used any of the magic I showed you?"

"I couldn't. I couldn't even remember my name," she said shakily. "Someone had taken it from me. It was the sorcerer. Merlin."

The way she said his name, with hatred and disdain, was like knives to her heart. But she had to do it. The one thing that she had ever shared with Morgause was revenge. She was only making sure that this bond still existed.

"Merlin!" snarled Morgause. "That pesky idiot! Do not fear, sister. Now we have an ally unmatched in strength and magic. He will destroy Merlin as certain as Camelot will fall for good. With you here, we finally have a claim on the throne. We can make this occupation absolute and our revenge will be complete."

Morgana tried not to faint, but to fill her words with hatred instead. "My revenge now demands not only Arthur's but Merlin's head as well."

Morgause smiled at her warmly, squeezing her hand even more firmly. "I know, sister. You will hurt him as much as he's hurt you. You have my word."

"Thank you, sister," murmured Morgana.

Morgause's expression now became concerned. "You look tired, sister."

Morgana shifted on her seat. To win back Morgause's trust, she had to make her betrayal complete. "It's not all," Morgana whispered breathlessly. "Arthur is coming. He has an army of two thousand men. He's already here. The attack will come at dawn. You have to get ready. You have to…"

"Sister, calm yourself!" cut in Morgause. "We know. Do not worry. We are well protected here. Camelot is ours and no one – not Arthur Pendragon – will take back this city."

Morgana pursed her lips, swallowing an outburst of shock. "Of course," she murmured, shaking her curls.

"Do not trouble yourself anymore, sister," said Morgause, smiling affectionately. "I will introduce you to him, and then I will let you rest. Would you like that?"

They set off towards the throne room at once; Morgana gliding in her blue velvet dress and Morgause, clad in chain mail, trotting in front of her like a personal guard. The change in Morgause's tone as she began to talk about LeNoir was unsettling. She explained how she used the map to go to the Otherworld and how the spirits gave her a mighty gift. LeNoir was everything that she hoped for and more. He was a man not to be reckoned with, a man who knew how to be feared and respected by all of those around him. But most of all, he was a man who shared their hatred of Uther Pendragon.

"But don't worry, sister," Morgause said softly when they had reached the double doors. "I'm certain that he will love you, as I love…"

She caught herself and stopped her sentence at once. Morgana tried not to appear too stunned. However, there was no more time to think because Morgause had swung the doors open.

Morgana wasn't prepared to see someone else than Uther sit on the throne. The sight made her hold her breath. The man who had once been called Julius Borden was sitting casually on the impressive chair, with one leg swinging over the armrest. When he looked up and saw the two women walking towards him, he straightened up and stared at Morgana with unnatural black eyes. She knew at once that he was trying to read her. Her instinct was to slow down her pace, but she kept going, her head held high.

"What is this, my love?" said LeNoir with a deep and cavernous voice.

My love. She definitely had not anticipated that.

The soft words did not seem unfamiliar to Morgause. As soon as she heard them, her face lit up and she was quick to get to her lover's side.

As Morgana got closer, LeNoir's snarl turned into a devilish smile. "I should say 'who is this?' but I think the answer to that is obvious. Welcome to Camelot, Lady Morgana."

Morgana nodded curtly. She could feel LeNoir's glare like a chilly breeze on her skin. He stepped forward and began to walk around her, appraising her. Morgana caught a fleeting glance of Morgause: she had a distraught look on her face. Was it jealousy? A tiny drop in her level of self-confidence?

"You live up to your reputation, Lady Morgana," said LeNoir, smiling slyly. With the back of his hand he brushed a lock of her hair away from her shoulder. Then his face changed completely as he turned back to Morgause. "You were right, my love, she is special," he said softly.

He walked back to Morgause's side and placed a kiss on her hand. Morgana tried not to stare or blush at the sight of the two lovers. She couldn't let this new information change her plan. She couldn't loose her focus. Morgause had to die.

"You are special, sister," whispered Morgause. She stepped forward to squeeze Morgana's arm affectionately. "And tomorrow, we will make you queen. What's this?"

She flipped Morgana's wrist for a closer look. Sure enough, under the fabric of the blue dress, there was a fine line of blood. It was probably just a scratch from riding in the woods, but Morgana decided to use it to her advantage.

"It's nothing," she said. "Just a reminder of what I went through to escape. I want to keep it."

"Of course," Morgause said sympathetically.

"Maybe I'll just get an ointment for the sting. I'm sure I can find something in the physician's chambers."

Morgause offered to go with her, but Morgana refused instantly, saying that she needed to rest. She also said a few words about finding something more suitable to wear. Something fit for a queen.

After that, they said 'good night' and Morgana left the throne room holding a small flame in the palm of her hand as only light. She made sure that the two lovers saw her conjure the spell, in case they had any doubt about her identity.

The dark corridors of the citadel seemed more crowded to her in the middle of the night. The walls were full of dancing shadows as she passed from one empty chamber to the next. The unworldly shapes of the dragon-shades outside of the windows gave her the constant impression that she was being observed. And maybe she was. She did not know yet the extent of LeNoir's powers. He could control the dragons, yes, but did he have other magical abilities? Until her task was done, she couldn't let him get close to her. She couldn't give away her intentions.

As she pushed open the doors to Gaius' chambers, her thoughts immediately went to Merlin. The smell of herbs and parchment brought a strong sense of longing to her heart. With a quick word, the fireplace burst into flames, casting more light on the surroundings. She spotted the small doorway at the back of the chamber: Merlin's room. It was such a tiny room by her standards, yet it was a perfect reflection of everything Merlin was. The walls were lined with books. Rolls of parchment were piled up on a writing desk and on the floor. The bed was only roughly done. A brown jacket, blue shirt and red scarf were hanging on the back of a chair. She could almost see him climbing to take a peek out of the small window.

Without thinking, she allowed her fingers to run along the jacket, shirt and scarf. Then, taking the piece of red cloth, she wrapped it around her wrist like a bandage. The cut didn't really need it, but the idea of having something belonging to Merlin gave her strength.

With this newfound purpose, she returned into the physician's chambers to look for a particular potion. She knew that it was transparent like water, tasteless and odourless, and very deadly. She had tasted this poison before, and by Merlin's hand. Yet she loved him so much now that she couldn't blame him or even feel any bitterness.

It was the same with Morgause. Morgana did not really hate her. She only felt a sort of pity and an overwhelming sadness. Morgause would never really know love or joy. She had spent all of her life planning her revenge. LeNoir was not different. His hatred of the Pendragons was all that mattered. Whatever infatuation existed between them could only be fuelled by their common loathing for the same enemy. There was nothing else in the world for them.

After only a few minutes of search, Morgana found what she was looking for. She closed her hand on the small phial, the one with a skull on it, and she slipped it under the folds of her dress. A few drops in a glass of wine. It would be quick and without too much pain.

After all, Morgause didn't have to suffer.

Her death would come at dawn.