Authors note: If it is in 'italics,' it's wordless, ethereal Druid-speak between two minds.
He pushed the bread into his mouth.
"You think I have no destiny," he said, "Maybe the Gods haven't created one. That all of this is just coincidence, and I was striving for something never to come."
She winced to say, 'not quite.' "It did come, though. Everything is as you worked for it to become. It doesn't appear to be … in the way we expected, though." She reclined her head on her wrist and looked on him.
Merlin stayed silent.
"People like us are still hunted, legalities aside. Persecution will never quite leave us." She paused. "I hope you don't regret it."
"I regret it."
She slowly recoiled with a look of concern.
"I know that I've failed you. I've failed all magic, and I will pay the torment. I'll still protect Arthur, and wait with whatever "
She nodded slowly, metabolizing this information. "You are not being punished for what you couldn't bring to be. If you are, the gods are enacting a hateful fate onto you." She rolled forward, "and from what I've seen you do well in their eyes."
"How so?"
"You took two weeks from the death of one royal to be at the heels of another." Her nose wrinkled, "If anything, that royalty is more your 'destiny's call.' It's where you go the fastest.
Merlin leaned forward. "Maybe I'm just weak for a pretty girl."
She rolled her eyes and hummed. But he could see the flutter of her lashes. She was flustered.
His smile faded.
Because she was right.
Maybe it didn't matter, not ultimately. But he took the word of an ancient being trying to save itself. Maybe all of this was futile nonsense, and the great weight of his destiny was meaningless.
"Maybe it's just better to stop worrying over destiny," she said. "I've had my share of it already." She lay her head down and formed her hand on her mouth before blowing amber sparks into a flurry of butterflies that skipped on the stone around the hearth and died as they touched.
Merlin leaned back with fluttering eyes. He drank a mouthful of broth.