Summary

Morgana and the dragons make an astonishing discovery.

Chapter 51 A Spark to Kindle Hope

Morgana gazed above the rugged mountain peaks surrounding her prison, watching the dragons soar as the sun sank below the jagged horizon. Strangely, a sense of serenity enveloped her, the beauty of their graceful dance still something to behold. As twilight began to deepen, she noticed a subtle shift in their flight patterns. Where once they had wheeled chaotically, now their movements seemed more purposeful, almost harmonious. It was as if the very air around them had changed, bringing with it a newfound order.

Her surroundings had improved as well—since Merlin visited more frequently. She glanced behind her, took in the humble changes. On one visit, he brought a small bed with a firm mattress, layered with furs and blankets, and placed it next to the fire. The soft textures of the furs contrasted sharply with the rough stone beneath, a small island of comfort in her austere surroundings.

The modest table and chair he brought on his next visit were positioned nearby—a few books of literature neatly stacked on the tabletop. More surprising was the writing set he presented one day: a quill, a small pot of ink, and several sheets of parchment.

Merlin had suggested that, although she wasn't permitted to correspond with anyone, perhaps she could use them to help sort out her thoughts. Morgana scoffed lightly, recalling the very sound she'd made when Merlin had first proposed the idea. But her eyes slid to a worn leather book next to the stack on the table, its familiar shape drawing her attention. She crossed to the table and picked up her mother's book, her fingers tracing the brown leather bindings.

In a way, she mused, her mother had done just that for her – guided her through childhood's complexities by leaving her this bittersweet gift, now encased in a weathered cover. As she sat in the chair, she held the book close, relishing the comfort that such a simple object could provide to her. The familiar weight in her hands anchored her, connecting her to a past now distant as a fading dream.

As she held the book, time blurred, the world continued on, oblivious to her absence. It seemed a lifetime since Merlin had revealed his identity as Emrys to her, yet only a month had passed. In that brief span, he had changed in many ways, and in others, remained steadfastly the same.

With each gift, Merlin usually included bits of information about Camelot's ongoing saga – Gwen's coronation, murmurs over Arthur's new law, Escetir's grievance, the potential collaboration between sorcerers and Arthur. When he mentioned the restoration of the harvest she'd scorched to punish her people, guilt had twisted in her gut. But most telling were the recent developments: Merlin's ascension to Camelot's court wizard, indicating greater acceptance of magic by Arthur than she could have imagined possible.

Morgana could tell Kilgharrah had been greatly pleased with most of the news, often praising Merlin, Arthur, and the rest of Camelot for the courage in facing these challenges. A maelstrom of emotions whirled through her. The freedom of magic was what she'd long desired, and now that it was reality, she couldn't help the trace of bitterness that seeped through. They had accomplished in such a short time, and with such good will abounding, what she could not during her two reigns as queen. The thought of her former friends prospering without her, building the very world she had envisioned but failed to create, added another layer to the tumultuous emotions churning within her.

Lost in thoughts and feelings, Morgana started when Aithusa suddenly skittered inside, brimming with energy. She nestled beside Morgana, nuzzling against her hand. Morgana idly stroked the dragon's soft ivory plates, glancing at the cave opening since she had not heard Kilgharrah's usual thunderous presence outside.

"How was your adventure?" Morgana asked the youngling, turning back to her. Smiling warmly, she marveled at how much they had bonded in recent weeks as she caressed her still-hardening scales.

Since the Triple Goddess had banished her here, isolated and powerless, only Aithusa had kept her soul from crumbling completely—that was, before Merlin began his frequent visitations. She saw echoes of herself in the young dragon: both feared yet yearning for affection; wounded but resilient.

Now hearing the rhythmic flap of Kilgharrah's leathery wings as he descended, Morgana glanced toward the entrance. After a moment, the great dragon's ancient, golden eyes fixed on them as he peered into the cave, an eruption of harmless smoke tendrils flaring from nostrils. Though tensions between them had thawed considerably, Morgana sensed his lingering envy at their closeness, for she'd usurped a portion of authority over the baby dragon.

"You should not wander far from me, young one," Kilgharrah rumbled, his jealousy tinging his words as he addressed Aithusa. "The aether harbors many dangers for inexperienced travelers."

Morgana rolled her eyes in exasperation as she stood and approached the cave mouth. Aithusa merely blinked her luminous eyes, staying firmly at Morgana's side and unfazed by Kilgharrah's stern warning. As she faced the great dragon, his immense form filling her vision, Morgana felt a fleeting sense of her own smallness. Yet, even as she craned her neck to meet his gaze, her resolve remained unshaken.

"She wants independence, Kilgharrah," Morgana admonished with measured care. "Release your tethers and perhaps you'll gain better results."

Another puff of smoke emitted from Kilgharrah's giant nostrils. "Do not presume to know anything about dragon ways, Morgana." He used his harmonics too, rippling chilled vibrations that penetrated through her. His lips pulled back. Her chin lifted, defiance coursing despite feeling diminished by Kilgharrah.

"I'm female as is she, something that I do presume to know," she rebuffed in the face of the dragon's retaliation. "Allow her to explore, and expand her psychic senses, discovering new realms and creatures unknown."

Kilgharrah growled, releasing a billow of smoke hot and acrid on her skin, momentarily obscuring his features. He backed away, a blast of cold from his great wings touching them inside as he ascended into the sky, relieving their discomfort.

Exhaling deeply, Morgana retreated into the cave, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she sat on the bed bathed in the fire's glow. Aithusa followed, chirping and flittering. Caressing the top of the dragon's head, she released a soft sigh. One day, Morgana hoped, she and the great dragon would find a common ground. Perhaps they could even stand together peaceably.

She settled comfortably on the bed while the baby dragon peered at her with those large, luminescent eyes, as green as a pond of cool water. "You are learning quickly though, aren't you?" she whispered with pride. "You don't need that controlling creature keeping you tethered so closely, do you? What you and I can do is quite different, isn't it?"

In recent weeks, Morgana had pushed beyond mere words and encouragement, forging a profound telepathic link with Aithusa, rivaling even the ancient druidic mind-speaking. Through sheer will and the strength of their bond, she'd shattered the barriers that had kept most human minds separate from dragons. She knew dragonlords like Merlin shared a profound bond with their dragon, but Morgana's innate abilities had forged her own unique connection with Aithusa. Their minds intertwined freely, delving deeper and dissolving defenses between them both.

Morgana's lips curved into a small smile. "Shall we continue honing our mental abilities, little one?"

Aithusa pounced onto the bed, folding her delicate wings. She moved close enough for Morgana to cradle her head gently. Cooing softly, Morgana gazed into her large green eyes and called upon her priestess powers, meager though they might be – if any remained at all. During their sessions, the bracelet was dormant, but she had to test its limits – push further each time – for Aithusa's sake.

Closing her eyes, Morgana reached out with her mind. "Focus on sending feelings or impressions to me instead of words," she mind-spoke, summoning her own images to transmit. "Like last time. Remember, I don't understand your language."

A flash of blue splashed in Morgana's mind, stark, yet warm. Then another. Morgana grasped at the next one, holding firmly onto it with thought.

"Can you see what I'm doing?" she asked, tenderly embracing the dragon's head while mentally painting Aithusa's azure flash into a bright, blue flower. "You can do it."

Aithusa purred softly, her gaze mesmerizing. A patch of blue formed against a canvas of black when suddenly, a field of blue bells burst into Morgana's mind, more vivid and vast than she'd ever seen. She fought the urge to blink, her head swimming with the intensity of the vision.

"That's it!" she breathed, her mental voice rising with excitement, her eyes still locked with the baby dragon's. "It's beautiful…Now release the image, allow it to soar through the aether. Find Kilgharrah. I'll help you."

Hades' Grip clinked, one lever sliding down as Morgana concentrated deeper. She caught her breath as spikes pressed into her wrists, no blood drawn on the first offense, just a warning. Aithusa chirped softly, still sensing her discomfort. Ignoring the dull pressure, Morgana projected her consciousness into Aithusa's mind. A whisper of the dragon's strange speech interlaced with her own words, growing in intensity into a cacophony that vibrated through Morgana's being.

Aithusa's trills grew louder, her excitement palpable in their deep connection. Then, like a feather on the wind, they brushed against Kilgharrah's thoughts.

"Reach out to him," Morgana urged, tears streaming from her eyes. "Let your power entwine with his." Guided by instinct, she aimed to blend Aithusa's adaptable nature with Kilgharrah's vast reserves. She imagined their energies as threads of light: Aithusa's a bright, flickering silver, Kilgharrah's a steady, burning gold.

As their combined consciousness touched Kilgharrah's mind, his presence wavered at the intrusion. He recoiled mid-flight – hovering in confusion. Unlike the warm, familiar connection with Aithusa, his mind felt vast and ancient, like plunging into the depths of an immense ocean.

In the mere moments that slipped past, the bracelet released another lever, breaking through flesh. Morgana winced, her body beginning to quake from the fresh agony. Kilgharrah tentatively lowered his defenses, resuming his path in the aether. His annoyance radiated forcefully, but curiosity simmered beneath.

"What is this?" Kilgharrah's comprehensible voice boomed in Morgana's head.

Hades' Grip clicked, digging deeper. Morgana inhaled sharply, her concentration wavering. Doubt gnawed at her. With discord lingering between them, would Kilgharrah accept this assistance from her now? Would he allow his ancient ways to be reshaped by the very witch he once called an enemy?

"Let Aithusa help you, Kilgharrah," Morgana entreated, her voice strained. Beads of sweat formed above her lip, trailed down her temples. "Accept her powers, embrace her strength – let her enhance yours."

Pushing further still, Morgana pooled Aithusa's fresh, untamed abilities alongside Kilgharrah's ancient power. She sought to mingle the old with the new, the raw with the refined. For weeks, she had known of Kilgharrah's attempts to expand his telepathic voice, his failures rooted in the rigidity of centuries-old patterns and the encumbrance of accumulated knowledge. Where Aithusa's magic flowed like a wild stream, Kilgharrah's was a deep, still lake, powerful but unyielding. With delicate mental touches, she could weave these threads together, creating a new tapestry of draconic power.

After a tense moment, Kilgharrah's presence flickered at the edge of Morgana's senses, lapping at Aithusa's power. A surge of conflicting energies erupted in Morgana's mind – Aithusa's wild, untamed magic clashing against Kilgharrah's ancient, unyielding force. The mental maelstrom threatened to overwhelm her, images and sensations whirling in a dizzying storm.

Then, gradually, like oil and water slowly mixing, the disparate energies began to blend. As the chaos subsided, a new, harmonious power emerged, vibrant and potent. Their thoughts soared as one, reaching further than ever before. Suddenly, strange and primal minds touched their own. Kilgharrah halted in flight, hovering while Aithusa chirped wildly in Morgana's firm grasp. The lost dragons from decades past, hidden since Uther's Purge, were touched by their thoughts at last!

But Hades' Grip showed no mercy, piercing ever deeper into flesh. Morgana swayed dangerously, the connection to the dragons also draining her strength. Her vision blurred, but she clung to consciousness, determined to see this through.

"Anouilh," Kilgharrah finally uttered, his mental voice thick with awed expectation.

"Anouilh," responded a female's voice, as shocked as the great dragon's. "Who are you?!"

Without warning, the new presence vanished, leaving a void in their shared consciousness. The abrupt departure sent a jolt through their mental link, Morgana gasping at the sudden loss. Her concentration faltering, she wrenched herself from Aithusa's hypnotic hold, gulping for air, eyes stinging hot.

Crimson blood seeped from holes in her bound wrist, a throbbing reminder of the bracelet's cruel price. She examined the searing wounds through a haze, gazing at the scarlet droplets, their vivid color surreal against the cold, gray stone of her prison walls.

This defiance of the bracelet differed greatly from her previous attempts. Before, it had been out of spite and hate – first trying to curse Arthur's seed, then later, in captivity, attempting to summon an escape spell. But this time, it wasn't for her. It was for Aithusa and Kilgharrah, something she wanted to do out of sincerity, out of a desire to help rather than harm.

Her head felt as heavy as thick autumn fog, her vision swimming from the magical exertion as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Yet amidst the pain, a spark of joy kindled within her – a genuine hope she had not felt in years. This act, this willingness to endure pain for something beyond herself, stirred emotions long-dormant in her soul.

Morgana turned her leaden head to look upon Aithusa. "Well done, little one," she murmured, a weak smile touching her lips. Summoning her last reserves of strength to move her battered body, she crawled beneath the furs, her limbs trembling with exhaustion. As she settled, she felt Aithusa snuggle against her, the young dragon's scales a contradictory comfort of rough and smooth.

For the first time – and before blackness claimed her – Morgana sensed a warm current of gratitude filtering from Kilgharrah towards her and Aithusa, his fading consciousness emanating awe and deep fulfillment within her. The great dragon's isolation might soon come to an end…

On the other side of the world, Merlin's eyes snapped open.

Merlin slowly pulled himself up onto an elbow, the fire crackling in the hearth now reaching his ears. Had he heard right? A distant voice? A female… dragon? Did he… sense Kilgharrah and Aithusa? Had he brushed against Morgana's consciousness? Was it a dream…?

He threw the quilted covering aside, rushing to his feet as he ran his fingers through disheveled hair. The cold stones beneath his bare feet grounded him amidst the unfamiliar luxury surrounding him. Even after a month, the spaciousness of his new chambers – with its plush furnishings, vivid tapestries, and private amenities – still felt ill-fitting, like borrowed finery, compared to his former storage-room quarters.

Shaking off his disorientation, Merlin focused on the lingering echoes of the dream – or vision. "Ondrædan draca gemynd," he said. "Kilgharrah…"

"Merlin," came the dragon's voice, thrumming with excitement, "something wondrous has happened."

"I know," Merlin replied, pacing, the stones cold on his bare feet. "I heard her. You've found them – your kin."

"Not I alone," he responded. "Aithusa… and Morgana."

He had not imagined sensing Morgana. Merlin stopped pacing, his heart skipping a beat. "What do you mean? Is she all right?" His mind raced to the bracelet. If she had tried to use magic...

"I do not know – she's resting now. But she has unlocked something far greater than herself. Without her, this would not have been possible."

The shock in Kilgharrah's words mirrored Merlin's own swirling emotions. Morgana, helping dragons? The very idea upended everything he'd believed about her, and perhaps about the bond between dragons and dragonlords.

"Well," he expressed finally, trying to process it all. "This is wonderful news. I'm happy for you and Aithusa."

"It remains to be seen how the future will unfold, but I am optimistic, young warlock."

Merlin chuckled, surprise and relief in his voice. "That's something new for you," he said, a welcomed shift from years of dire warnings. "I'll visit you all later tomorrow. Arthur and Gwen are planning some much-needed time away from the castle and I must be there to protect them."

"Very well," concluded Kilgharrah. "We shall look for you then."

As their connection faded, Merlin drew a deep breath and returned to his bed. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling of his chambers. Beyond it, he imagined dragons soaring the skies once again, a sight not seen in Camelot for decades.

Morgana was helping make that possible, despite her confinement and diminished magic, risking injury to accomplish a feat for the benefit of the dragons. But how was that possible if her magic was bound? Perhaps this achievement was a testament to the good that had always resided within her, buried beneath years of pain and betrayal. If she could find a way to bridge such an impossible divide with the dragons, what more could unfold that he'd never dared to dream?

The implications whirled in Merlin's mind. Could this be the beginning of a new chapter, not just for the dragons, but for Morgana herself? And if so, what might it mean for the future of Camelot?

Another tiny flutter of hope awakened inside him regarding Morgana – perhaps they didn't need to remain enemies. Her future could be rewritten – couldn't it? If she could heal her bitterness enough to unlock forgotten dragons, maybe there was room to mend the rift between her, Arthur, and Gwen… well, with the whole of Camelot for that matter. Merlin grunted as he shifted in his bed, the enormity of such a feat pressing upon his conscience.

But since his efforts to only display kindness to her – bringing her books, furnishings, small comforts – Merlin allowed himself to ponder whether destiny could truly be altered—whether sworn enemies might yet become allies, even friends. When met with empathy instead of fear, perhaps this was the dawn of more than just new dragons soaring Camelot's skies.

Merlin scrubbed his chin as he lay there, his pondering turning to Arthur's reaction to these new developments, his throat constricting. The thought of broaching the possible changes with the king sent a chill down his spine, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that these might be pivotal moments for all their futures. Tomorrow, after ensuring Arthur and Gwen's safely returned from their trip, he would visit the dragons as promised for more details and to check on Morgana.

As sleep began to reclaim him, Merlin's last coherent thought was of Arthur. Would his friend see these as opportunities for reconciliation, or as threats to the peace they were working so hard to achieve?