*Throws down chapter like a UFC fighter at championships. Stands and postures to the crowds*
Consequences
Dearest Morgana,
Meeting you has set a torch alight in a part of my soul where once only lived darkness. While our time together was but a blink in passing, my heart longs for us to be near once more; you are a missing piece I knew not was lost. But fear not, our destinies intertwine as surely as the sun and moon chase each other through the sky and, by that, I am certain we will find each other again.
So, while we are parted now, trust that we will not be alone forever.
I have little time to spare, diligent in my efforts to bring about a land where you and I can stand freely with no veils or masks. But know you are never far from my thoughts, sister. I know it must be terrible, forced to live in silence among bigots and murderers, and I worry for your mind. Do not despair your position, Morgana, for you may be the key to your – and everyone's – freedom. You are a Seer, one who keeps a revered and respected gift, and you are a warrior, just as am I. Your time will come; trust in that and trust in me. I will not leave you to suffer much longer.
Be well dear one,
Morgause.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Arthur and his father played a very stiff game of avoidance. The prince spent much of his time outside, either training or hunting – though he didn't bring back much game – while the King spent almost the entirety of his days locked up in the Council Chamber, biting the heads off his councilmen with every suggestion of state. Tensions were already rising as the Peace Talk between the Five Kings loomed on the horizon and the hostility between the royals made everything worse.
All Merlyn knew was they had to sort themselves out before the delegations arrived or Camelot would be left vulnerable. Nothing was better for a power grab than a kingdom weak with internal conflict.
When she told this to Arthur, he hissed like an angry goose. "He doesn't deserve to be forgiven."
"I didn't say forgiven," Merlyn corrected, threading the strap of his vambrace through the buckle as she bound it to his forearm. George was excellent at regular servant duties – cleaning, anticipating the master's needs, organising the daily schedule – but he wasn't so great at fitting armour or providing stimulating conversation for the fussy prince. And with Merlyn jobless and banned from tasks such as gathering herbs beyond the city or running errands or even riding her damn horse, she found herself drifting in to fill those vacancies. "But you need to reach an understanding so you can present a united front before the other kings."
"How can I make peace with the man who murdered my mother?" he asked, sounding both petulant and imploring.
"He is still your father, and he loves you, just as you love him. He has made some horrible decisions – unforgiveable decisions – and he only made things worse by deluding himself. But Arthur," she touched his bicep so he would meet her eyes. "You are an infinitely better man than he, so it is you who must mend the bridge. It angers you, I know," she said when his mouth opened to retort. "And it's unfair, I know. But he is still the King, and you are both needed to protect this realm. That is what you must focus on now. Set aside your anger and your hurt when you are together. You can feel all you want in private, I promise. I'll even clean up each time you decide to break things in your temper."
He rolled his eyes at her attempt at levity but released a long sigh of resignation. "Sometimes I wonder how you became so wise," he said, and the way he stared had her face heating. She removed her hand from his arm and spun to grab his sword from the table, only to fumble with clumsy fingers and have the heavy weapon slip and land, hilt-first, atop her big toe. She grunted in pain and hopped on one foot as she cradled the abused one in her hands.
"And then," Arthur continued with a smirk. "You remind me how ridiculous that thought is."
She glared up at him and stuck out her tongue, making him snort as he stooped to pick up his weapon and slide it home at his hip. "Go clean my horses out. And exercise your beast; he's terrorising the new stableboys."
"Good," she said with a soft laugh, letting her foot go as the throbbing began to ease. "They clearly need whipping into shape if they haven't yet realised to leave him alone."
Arthur conceded the point, and she left the room before he could change his mind. Sunstrider was ready for his first working ride and was going stir crazy because she couldn't comply. She'd tried to keep up with groundwork, challenging him with new obstacles and exercises, but as a horse who thrived off activity, he was stagnating in the small yards and stalls. He needed to stretch his legs, to have a good gallop, but wasn't likely to happen while the Cuff bound her arm.
She had a feeling she was going to be making some tough decisions soon and was not looking forward to them.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
She did not know what was said between prince and king that evening, but Arthur returned to his room in a state of agitation even as he declared their issues resolved for the time being. Merlyn didn't push. As much as she was invested in the future of Camelot and Arthur's wellbeing, she did not need to hover over his shoulder like a fairy godmother with an inept princess. He was old enough to sort his own relationships… with, perhaps, a little nudge in the right direction.
In the end, all that mattered was they could stand to be in the same room without Arthur breathing like an irate bull or the King posturing like an indignant cockerel. So, for now, all was right in the world.
Although, it was particularly nice to be told Arthur had wrangled the bounty on druids to be lowered to the point of redundancy. Despite the monarch's indominable stubbornness, even he had to admit the peaceful people had never proven their dark intentions, which made the high price for their detainment an unnecessary expense for the kingdom.
"I only wish I could force a halt on all the hunting," Arthur said after the new ruling began circulating. The pair stood atop the parapets, watching over the courtyard as the shadows of the low clouds darkened with approaching night. The air was chill with the scent of coming rain, yet Merlyn breathed it in deeply, rejuvenated with the small victory. "But I could not do so without rebelling entirely. And… I have to think of the people first," he sighed, looking down at the citizens moving in and out of the castle. "An uprising now would destabilise the Peace Talks and invite invasion from our enemies."
"You did as much as you could," Merlyn assured him then laughed slightly as the news hit her anew. Positive change. Finally, there was positive change. She tipped forward so her arms were braced against the low barricade, resting her weight upon them. "I cannot believe you swayed him even this much. The druids do not deserve to be hunted; they are the most peaceful community I have ever met."
"They will still be hunted by those without our realm," Arthur cautioned, clearly worried her hopes were too high. "And some hunters do not seek for only the gold."
"But many do," Merlyn said firmly, looking back at him; unwilling to be dampened. "And this will lessen the pain they suffer. Thank you, Arthur."
Her appreciation was met with a tight smile fading quickly, the prince uncomfortable with the gratitude. Merlyn didn't push, reading the guilt and shame seeming to live like a second skin on his face these days.
It was strange. Most of the time, prince and servant existed within the easy camaraderie they'd had before, banter and snark traded with nary a thought. And then, moments arrived where a nerve was unintentionally stuck, and one or the other mentally retreated to cradle invisible wounds they tried to pretend weren't present.
When Arthur sunk into these moments, Merlyn did not know what to do. Before, it had been her by his side while he battled to be better, to solve a crisis, to help people. Now, there was her on one side and him on the other, with a yawning abyss of past mistakes between. She did not know how to navigate that space yet, and some small part of her wasn't ready to try.
So, she stayed silent and soon left him alone atop the wall as she walked back towards the Physician's Chambers, sneezing several times without relief as her sinuses stung.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
My dear Morgause,
To hear you are well and fighting for our liberation soothes the sadness invading my heart. Even now, though I sleep through the nights unhindered, I feel a terrible exhaustion weighing upon my mind. Sometimes, I struggle to find the strength to leave my bed, the loneliness and fear devouring any peace I found from your generosity. It lightens my heart to know you have not forgotten me, as you linger firmly in my memories; my anchor in this uncertain world. Recalling your kindness keeps the demons at bay.
You say I may be the key to our people's salvation, but I sit here and languish instead of help. Please, if there is any way I can aid your tasks, tell me. I have no love for the people in this kingdom, those who stand by while atrocities happen, and I refuse to be conditioned like those around me. A close friend shared the same gift as you and I, and she promised to help when she saw my suffering. But her abilities were discovered by the prince, and she folded to his wishes like a coward. I used to think her so strong; she stood as a pillar of light in the darkness, but her choices have forced me to realise she is trapped far more than any of us; her imprisonment lays in her heart. She has allowed her feelings for the prince to influence her decisions, her desperation to remain at his side clouding her judgement so much she truly believes the barbarism she has committed on herself is the better choice. Instead, she has only augmented the oppression strangling the land.
If I can set about events to free us from ever having to choose between our freedom and our hearts, I wish to do so. I am willing to do whatever it takes to remain unbound, for I refuse to suffer the same fate as she.
Be safe,
Morgana.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Merlyn was helping Gaius carefully clean his chemical set when she recognised the strange airy feeling in her limbs as more than a reaction to her sneezes. Her vision shimmered brightly like sunlight reflecting into her eyes and dread slammed heavy upon her shoulders. Quickly, she put down the glass vial in her hand and tried to escape to her room, but the dizziness hit promptly, and she staggered into the table as the world tilted the wrong way.
A shrill whine grew louder in her ears, pressing on her eardrums and drowning out Gaius' cry of shock. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, but her knees gave way as her consciousness swept away like her thoughts had been punched out of her very skull.
She was unconscious before she hit the floor.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
"…rlyn. Merlyn, wake up. Merlyn!"
"G'us," she grumbled in confusion as awareness crept back into her mind. She tried to roll onto her back, but the physician halted her with a hand to her shoulder, keeping her on her side. "Wh' happ'n?"
Tiredness sucked at her ability to string thoughts together and her whole body ached like she'd gone one-on-one with Arthur and his sword, but Gaius was relentless in pushing her into cognizance.
"Open your eyes, Merlyn," he ordered, and she groaned, lifting a shaky arm to swipe at her face before squinting at the upturned chair in front of her. She had a deep sense of déjà vu, except the chair had been a horse's leg and she'd been outside on grass instead of in the physician's chambers.
"What do you remember?" he asked as he turned her head towards the roof to peer closely into her eyes, a frown pinching his brows together.
"Um," she said as she cast her mind back, slogging through the black murkiness of exhaustion to fuzzy recollections of the odd shine in her eyes and the subsequent dizziness. "I think I fainted."
"No," Gaius corrected grimly, letting her go and sitting back on his heels. "You had a seizure."
"What?" she mumbled with a frown and clumsily pushed herself up into a seated position, her muscles heavy. "I don't have fits."
Gaius pursed his lips and asked with a raised eyebrow, "Is this the first time this has happened?"
She blinked and knew instantly the answer was written all over her face. But she defended with, "I didn't realise what it was. I was training Sunstrider and my vision went –" she wiggled her fingers in lieu of an explanation, "– then dizziness hit, and I fainted. I awoke a few minutes later and nothing was different except I was sore and tired, much like now." She let that sink into her own brain then asked, "Did I truly have a seizure?"
"Was anyone present when you collapsed?" he asked, ignoring her question. "What about when you awoke?"
"No, no one was nearby," she answered with a frown. "What –"
"Have you done anything differently in the last few days?" he pressed. "Tried to cast any magic?"
"Gaius," she reproached with a frown. "I cannot cast magic. It all remains in here." She brushed her hands over her arms, where the ever-present urge to scratch nipped under her skin.
He released a resigned sigh and said, "It is as I feared. When you fell, your eyes burned gold and didn't relent until you stilled once more. Your very skin was electrified."
She took a moment to comprehend his words, the insinuation bleeding into her brain like an aneurysm. "You mean…" her hand moved up to touch the skin beneath her eye. "You mean I'm having these fits because I can't use magic?"
"I fear it," Gaius said, pushing himself slowly to his feet and grunting at the protest of his aged joints. "It is a logical conclusion. Your symptoms are progressing as any disease left untreated will do."
"But I… I don't have a disease. I can't… this isn't treatable."
"I know," he said heavily, head bowed as he shuffled over to the table where several papers were strewn carelessly. He said nothing more as he began sorting them and neither did Merlyn. She didn't know what to say.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
She was soaking in the castle bathhouse, trying to ease the tenderness from her muscles when Gwen slipped through the door. Merlyn's eyes were closed as she let the steam dissolve her thoughts and soften the congestion in her nose, resting her heavy head against the edge of the wooden tub while her consciousness softened into a warm mental fuzz.
Only two other baths were in use and Merlyn had made sure there were several spaces between her and the two gossiping women, desiring privacy and quiet during her soak. Gaius had forbidden her to use the smelling salt any longer, as he feared they were hastening the deterioration of her condition. Shaken by his prognosis, Merlyn obeyed with little fuss, willing to give her sinuses a much-needed break from the ammonia.
"Merlyn," Gwen said, and the black-haired girl opened her eyes slowly, turning her head to see the older woman's pinched face. "How are you?"
"Gwen," she greeted, pushing out of her recline. "I'm well. How are you?"
The curly-haired woman paused momentarily as she crouched beside the bath. "You are dissociated right now, aren't you?" she asked, using the terminology Gaius had coined to describe her disorder.
"I'm having issues with the Cuff," she explained. "And Gaius decided to give me a break."
"Anything to be concerned over?" Gwen asked, the pinch between her brows worsening.
Merlyn thought about it and decided, "No." There wasn't anything they could do, therefore, worrying about it would achieve nothing.
"Alright," Gwen conceded, though her tone was cautious. "You will tell me if it changes?"
"You will know," she answered passively.
"Right," she returned blandly and shuffled in her crouch, settling herself more comfortably. "Regardless, I came here on another matter." She folded her hands atop the edge of the bath and rested her chin upon them, her keen eyes intent on Merlyn. "What is going on between you and Morgana?"
The black-haired girl hadn't expected that, but the gaping chasm where her emotions once lived refused her the ability to be surprised. Still, stunted feelings or not, Merlyn knew Morgana's magic was a secret.
"I'm not allowed to tell you," she said.
That only piqued Gwen's curiosity but she pushed more gently, "Morgana told me the two of you had an argument. That you had done something irreparably selfish and stupid. Merlyn," she reached out and tugged on her wet hair, concern clear on her face. "Did she find out about what you can do?"
Merlyn wondered how to answer. Gwen deserved some element of honesty even though the black-haired girl would not divulge information not hers to give. "No. Our argument wasn't about that," she decided upon. Not outright lies, just half-truths.
"Then what nefarious choices did you make to anger Morgana so?" Gwen asked, her voice edged with humour now she knew Merlyn's secret was safe.
But Merlyn wouldn't have been amused, even if she was able. "I promised her something," she admitted solemnly. "And I broke it."
"That doesn't sound like you," Gwen rebuked gently, her expression so earnest Merlyn's gut ached hollowly. If only she was as good as Gwen thought she was.
"I'm afraid it is," she said, and her eyes itched with heat. She reached up a hand and wiped away an unexpected tear, staring at the pearl droplet as it struggled to maintain shape against the dampness of her hand. She reached for the emotion causing it but stumbled into the cavernous black emptiness instead, teetering on the edge of the abyss.
Gwen gasped and whispered her name, snapping Merlyn back to the present. She looked at Gwen only to see her friend's gaze aimed at Merlyn's wrist.
Oh. Right. She put her hand back into the water, even knowing it was too late. Heedless of the attempt, Gwen reached for her arm and Merlyn let her lift it back into sight, cradling the limb in her hands like it was frailer than porcelain. The Cuff was tight against her wrist now, still a gleaming grey without scuff or scratch to be seen. But her flesh had suffered in its place, raw and chafed, with light abrasions from where she'd scratched skin away trying to be rid of the itchiness. Her fingers had swelled with excess fluid, enough it was noticeable when comparing her hands. More and more often, she found the extremities stiff and achy, difficult to move or use with force.
Carefully, gently, the curly-haired woman turned her arm over, supporting it with a light touch under her elbow. Gwen stared at the swollen veins threading under Merlyn's skin, the red darkened to a muddy burgundy, before her teary eyes darted up to meet Merlyn's own.
"Mercy," she breathed, her voice cracking with dismay. "Why did you not tell me this was happening?"
Merlyn stared at the tainted limb, at the dreadful prospect the deterioration presented, and felt empty.
"It would change nothing," she told her friend. "No one can fix this."
"But you don't have to suffer alone, Merlyn!" Gwen exclaimed before gritting her teeth to regain composure, darting a glance towards the oblivious women in the other baths before bowing her head. "You said months ago you knew you weren't alone because you had us. Lancelot and I. Friends to give you support, to help you. But you still hide away – keeping yourself secret, leaving us at arm's length. How can we truly be your friends if you refuse to trust us?"
Merlyn reached out with her other hand and touched the crown of Gwen's neatly styled hair with her saturated palm, hoping it would comfort the older woman. Water dripped from her arm and onto Gwen's dress, causing the noble to choke on a wet laugh and lift her head. Merlyn's hand retracted as she watched her wipe away the tears on her cheeks.
"I should know better than to try to argue with you when you're like this," she whispered, gracing the younger girl with a tremulous smile. "The real culprit is on the training fields, pretending everything is fine while it all falls apart around him."
Gwen reached out and moved a stray clump of hair from the side of Merlyn's face to behind her ear. Her lips were pulled down in sadness and Merlyn felt compelled to say, "His opinion has changed. Please don't worsen his guilt; he is already suffering the shame of his decisions."
"Does he know this is happening?"
She shook her head mutely and Gwen frowned. "So you would choose him to be ignorant until you suddenly die?"
"I would choose him to be happy, as I would for all of you," she corrected softly, seeing the effect her words had on her friend.
"It would not be true happiness if I were to learn later you had suffered during my joy," she said just as quietly. "My memories would be tainted, and my grief fed with guilt. We would all be ruined."
Merlyn didn't know how to respond, exhausted by the conversation and her own tired muscles. The water was not as hot as it had been before.
"Help me dress?" she asked, moving to stand in the tub. Gwen quickly regained her feet and reached out a steadying hand so Merlyn could climb out.
"Of course," her friend said and ducked down to grab the waiting towel to wrap around Merlyn's body before leading her to the antechamber where the cubicles were placed. Merlyn let Gwen fuss as she dried her off like a child, recognising the distress her arm was causing even as the woman's eyes were drawn back every few minutes.
"Morgana suffers no more from her nightmares," Gwen said abruptly, clearly disliking the heavy silence. She helped Merlyn step into her pantaloons. "Apparently, the woman who challenged Arthur granted her a healing bracelet before she left. Since then, she hasn't stirred once through the night." Gwen glanced towards the arch that led back into the bathing hall and added lowly, "Do you think it is magical?"
In the back of Merlyn's mind, alarm bells began to ring but she was passive as she thought about it.
"It would have to be if it worked. Runes and talismans are symbols imbued with their own brand of magic but for such potency, a spell would need to be added."
"Why would Morgause gift Morgana such a dangerous object within Camelot?" Gwen asked as she slipped Merlyn's dress over her head. "Why would they speak at all? They don't know each other."
"I don't know," Merlyn said but it seemed important she find out. Deep in her gut, something warned her it was imperative.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Gwen went to Gaius the moment she was able, desperate to for his opinion on Merlyn's arm. The image of the swollen, darkened veins refused to leave her mind, haunting every blink. And the utter nonchalance of Merlyn when discussing her imminent demise… her friend may be suffering from disassociation but her complete nonreaction was unnerving. Disturbing.
Gwen needed reassurance.
"Gaius!" she called as she charged into the Physician's Chambers, startling the old man into dropping his book. She was immediately apologetic. "I'm so sorry! Here – let me –"
She hurried near and picked the heavy tome from the floor, handing it back to Gaius while he stared at her with a brow raised in concern. "Is everything alright, Gwen? You seem flustered."
"Yes – no. I was just with Merlyn in the bathhouse. Have you seen her arm recently, Gaius?"
Immediately, the physician's craggy features pinched in sombreness, telling Gwen he had indeed. So she asked, "Is there any way to help her?"
He sighed, turning and ambling to the table as the weight of Merlyn's suffering bowed his shoulders. He lowered himself slowly into his chair and she quickly sat across from him, dread knotting her insides. He said gravely, "I have contemplated many ways to help. I've searched every resource available within the city and sent out missives to my old contacts for ideas. Nothing."
"What about…" she trailed off, acid burning sickly in her gut at the thought of what she was proposing. But she pushed on regardless; "What about… amputation?"
Gaius dipped his head. "I've contemplated it. I fear, however, she would not handle the operation. During my examination, I learned the stress the Cuff has taken on her body. Her kidneys are not functioning optimally, causing fluid retention in her extremities. The stress of such a dangerous surgery could send her into shock – and, in her state, may very well be her death. If I could only use sorcery…" he trailed off, rubbing his eyes – and in that moment, he looked every bit his age.
"Why can m-magic not be used?" Gwen asked, the 'm' word falling awkwardly off her tongue. King Uther had done a spectacular job at conditioning his people to fear sorcery, but she refused to let it cripple her attempts to help her friend.
"It appears the Cuff reacts adversely when sorcery is used nearby, regardless of whether Merlyn is the one casting."
Gwen's hands went to her mouth in horror. "That's awful!"
"No doubt any attempt to circumvent the device with sorcery would negatively affect Merlyn."
"How bad is it?" she asked, unable to help her interest. If she knew more, perhaps she could help more – or, at the very least, support Merlyn properly. "How badly does it hurt her?"
Gaius met her eyes, his blue gaze haunted with recent memories, and she found her throat dry with dismay.
"Depending on the severity of the attack, it can range between mildly incapacitating to blackout seizures. But the effects have been growing steadily more debilitating and I fear, one day soon, the strain may cause her heart to fail. And she will be gone forever."
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The smelling salts burned as Merlyn inhaled their sharp scent and she could only be glad the worst of her congestion has eased. The rush of adrenalin through her body was an odd contrast to the dull monotony of her other self but it was a satisfying sensation in the few seconds it took for her heart to settle into a quicker pace. The world remained colourless, and her senses still stunted, but awareness was what she needed for the moment.
She would not risk a conversation with Morgana without being emotionally cognizant. She wasn't a complete idiot.
Farah opened the door upon her knock and stared at Merlyn hesitantly, obviously aware of their strained friendship. She wondered what Morgana had been saying about her behind her back.
"Just tell her I wish to speak with her. Please?"
Farah closed her eyes and sucked in a long breath before looking over her shoulder to her mistress. Clearly Morgana could hear.
She must have made a motion because Farah stepped aside and granted her entrance, curtsying to Morgana before exiting and closing the door behind her. In her wake, silence reigned, Merlyn and Morgana staring at each other like stray cats sizing each other up.
"Say what you have come to say," Morgana said imperiously from where she reclined on the sun lounge with a book. Her regal features were already set with stubbornness and Merlyn knew this would be less a conversation and more an argument. It didn't stop her from trying.
"I heard your nightmares have stopped," she pried tentatively but the highborn still scoffed.
"Gwen," she sighed, looking skyward in disdain. "You have her spying on me?"
"What?" said Merlyn, taken aback by her accusation. "No, we were talking, and she told me. She knew I would want to know because we're friends."
"Are we?" Morgana asked bluntly, sitting forward abruptly with a brow raised in challenge. "I was desperate for help, and you turned your back on me, blinded by your affections for Arthur."
"That is not what happened," Merlyn argued, moving closer. "I did not choose him over you. I chose the option letting me remain in Camelot."
"Well it certainly wasn't to help me," Morgana dismissed, pushing herself up and marching near. "And it certainly wasn't to help some fabled 'Golden Age' come about." Her mockery was obvious in her tone. "You are so besotted with Arthur you let delusions rule you." She tossed her hair and turned away, moving instead to her long table and the goblet of wine waiting to be drunk. "But I have found aid elsewhere, in a woman who wants to help because she cares for me. I do not need you any longer."
"Morgause tried to have Arthur kill the King. She is not a good person."
"Trying to bring about change for the betterment of the people does not make her a bad person. It makes her someone willing to make the hard choices. Which is more than I can say for you."
Merlyn approached, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. "So you would be okay with seeing the King murdered, would you?" she demanded. "See Arthur grieve for his father, forced to take kingship before he is ready?"
"Who are you to say when Arthur is ready or when he is not?" Morgana snapped, thumping her goblet back on the table in anger. Dark wine splashed over the lip and stained the noblewoman's knuckles. "Who are you to think you know the path to a better future? You may have magic but that does not grant you the right to dictate my actions. You are no more special than I!"
Merlyn took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and the situation. She held out her hands placatingly. "I don't believe I am any more exceptional than the next person and I do not wish to dictate your actions; I am not your master. But I was told of a future where everything we seek comes to pass, one that depicts –"
"A time of unity and peace and all that is good in the world," Morgana interrupted dismissively. "I know, I know. But this prophecy does not tell us names, nor does it speak of a date. How can we know Arthur is the supposed King of Albion? And why should we trust the writing of something written centuries ago? I, more than anyone, know exactly how wrong a prediction can be. Something seen so far into the future… I cannot imagine anyone being so sure of the context they would inscribe it to be studied for generations. Not someone honest anyway."
Merlyn tried not to let it affect her, but Kilgarrah's declarations over the last few months, his surprise at the changes to the prophecy, hinted at the incorrectness of the writings. Still. She believed in the purity of Arthur's path. He was a good man with a big heart and strong morals. The truth of the prophecy did not matter if the character of the person guided them honestly. For was that not what a prophecy was? A glimpse into a possible future made available because of the people living in that time, making those choices, regardless of whether it was predicted or not?
Merlyn's head hurt.
"Whether or not the prophecy is a lie, it does not give anyone the right to murder," she said. "That goes against everything magic should be."
"The Old Religion does not care about life or death," Morgana pointed out primly. "It cares only for balance."
"The Old Religion is wrought with darkness and greed," she retorted sharply. "It bred fear into those without magic because it encourages sacrifice and pain as payment for progress. Is that what you want to study, Morgana? On how to strip away someone's will so they become your slave? Or on the correct way to slice a throat for bloodletting during Samhain so you can call upon the spirits of the dead to sow misery and ruin for a night? Perhaps how to create a creature designed to spread pestilence and plague? We dealt with that last year, remember? The Afanc you helped kill because you couldn't stand to see the people suffer!"
"Enough!" Morgana barked, and Merlyn fell silent, breathing heavily with anger. "Enough. You had your chance to teach me your way and you failed. Morgause has offered her hand instead and, unlike you, she is not distracted by the false promises of a boy prince. Now leave me be. I do not want to speak with you any longer."
"Morgana –"
"Leave or I call the guards!" she growled, and Merlyn retreated with her mouth agape. Morgana watched with colour high in her cheeks. "One day we will see which one of us is right, Merlyn. Until then, I do not want to speak with you."
"You cannot mean that," Merlyn gasped, shaking her head and feeling winded from the proverbial sucker-punch. "We're friends – we're kin!"
Morgana turned away and picked up the goblet. "We stopped being kin the moment you let yourself be shackled like a disobedient dog. Now return to your master like a good pet and leave me in peace."
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Sweet Morgana,
It grieves me to know your soul is burdened so. I would not wish you suffer, but the land is not kind to people like us, and I can do naught but offer you pretty words to bolster your faltering strength.
It gladdens my heart to know you are willing to do what we must to free our kin. It is a hard road to tread, with decisions testing your mettle and uncertainty shaking your fortitude, but I know you are brave enough and skilled enough to surmount each trial – and I will be by your side every step of the way. Understand there can be no change without chaos; the old order needs to be disbanded to allow the next to rise, as is the way of the world. But I am working to make the events as smooth as possible so those who do not deserve to suffer are kept safe.
You will not languish much longer, dear one; your time is coming. I have found what I need to put our plans into motion and must complete just one more task before we can step into a new age. You need pretend only a short while more and then I will come for you.
Just hold steady, change is on the wind.
With care, Morgause.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Arthur stood atop the parapet as the afternoon sun turned the white stone of the castle golden orange, so bright it almost hurt his eyes. The lower town was already cast in shadow, guards making their rounds to light the torches while citizens tidied up their wares for the night, stopping to chat with neighbours and call out to friends.
It was a peaceful time, the dark not yet holding secrets, and the air not yet chilling skin, but Arthur was not there to observe his people. No, his attention was cast to an internal matter.
He'd unearthed any magical books mentioning Magic-Suppressing Cuffs yet found nothing on how to remove the objects once they were placed. Merlyn had spoken of its irreversibility in her pleas to discourage him, but, at the time, such a thing had been a boon. Now… he had scoured as many of the books within the vaults as he could get his hands on, and none of them delved deeply enough into the subject to answer the questions plaguing him. What were the long-term effects? Why was the subject avoided so thoroughly? Who could he turn to for answers beyond the written word? Who did Merlyn turn to in order to find what she needed?
Gaius had eventually answered his query when he pried, looking worn and old. "The Great Dragon provided the solution, though it was with much reluctance."
It was a mild statement, but Arthur understood the warning for what it was, even as he knew he would visit the beast regardless. It was no secret the Great Dragon was displeased with him; their last, and only, conversation sitting as a visceral reminder of how easily he could have been killed. Several times in their conversation, Arthur had felt as prey before predator, certain he was about to feel the kiss of flames upon his skin. But they were no longer on opposite sides, and with their two goals aligned, he had a measure of security he lacked before.
And so, he watched his people settle for the night, awaiting the time the sentries at the cave entrance retired, leaving the area unmanned for almost an hour before the next pair took their place. A minor error in the logbooks no one would judge, but a window to redemption for one who needed it most.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The Great Dragon stared down at him imperiously while he made his plea. "You were warned, young prince, and still you pushed. Why should I help you when you do not heed the words of those wiser than you?"
"I am not the same as I once was," he declared, bare of sword or Pendragon crest. He was not a prince right now, he was a man trying to make amends. "I see the error of my decisions and I would not have Merlyn suffer them any longer. I will do anything to save her."
The large reptile lowered his head and glared at Arthur keenly, large golden eyes roving over him as if inspecting the honesty of his statement. Arthur did his best to exude sincerity, willing to beg if necessary. Merlyn was worth any humiliation.
"There may be a way to save her," the dragon finally said, sitting back in apparent satisfaction. "But my information is not unconditional."
"Name your price."
The beast lifted his golden head and intoned, "I wish to be set free. The witch made a promise, but her oath is broken. I will not wait any longer."
"How will I do that?" Arthur asks incredulously. "I am not a sorcerer."
"You do not need to be," he returned. "Bring me a sorcerer of suitable knowledge. With a sword forged by the Old Religion, they will have the strength to break the chains with which Uther Pendragon keeps me prisoner."
"Where will I find such a blade?"
"Within your very room, young prince," he drawled.
"What –" he cast his mind back, trying the recall such a weapon. Why would a magical sword be hidden within his room? Did Merlyn put it there?
"A sword with the power to slay anything, mortal or magical, living or dead, a blade of unimaginable potential, and you knew nothing of its abilities."
Unbidden, Arthur's thoughts turned to his favoured sword, the one he saved for true battle and ceremonial presentation, with its golden accents gleaming ethereally when reflecting firelight. It had never chipped or dulled in the time he'd owned it, even when he'd treated it less than respectfully, and Merlyn had insisted he keep it within his room – even installing a hook upon the wall on which it could hang.
"But it was forged by Tom," he mumbled to himself, remembering his servant telling him so when presenting it the first time.
"A true sword is forged by more than smelting metal," the Dragon informed. "And yours was borne within a dragon's breath."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you must take care, Arthur Pendragon, that you do not do harm where it cannot be undone."
Too late for that, he thought with self-loathing, but pushed it aside as he considered the Dragon's bargain. The idea of letting such a dangerous, intelligent creature free to attack its jailers sat ill in his chest, but he was desperate, and surely, for Albion to be created as Merlyn hoped, Camelot could not be destroyed. "I swear, as prince of Camelot, to free you once Merlyn is well again."
"No," the dragon refused, shaking his head sharply before dipping it close enough for Arthur to feel the dry heat in his breath. Sweat broke out at his temples in response. "You will free me regardless of the witch's health. Fourteen days I grant you, or you and this whole kingdom will suffer."
The prince bit his tongue to stay the remark on how he planned to retaliate if he was imprisoned but didn't wish to be roasted.
"How am I to find a sorcerer in that time?" he asked. If Merlyn was not uncuffed, she could not complete this task, so he would have to find, and convince, a sorcerer to help the son of the man who hunted their kind. And not just help, but to venture into the snake pit Camelot represented to them.
"That, young prince, is up to you."
Arthur kept his composure by force of will and dipped his head respectfully. He didn't have much of a choice. "I promise," he vowed.
The dragon took a large breath, seeming to deflate with the exhale, and Arthur realised the beast was comforted by the oath; he trusted Arthur's word despite having no power to hold him to it. It sobered the prince, to be granted so much power over such an ancient creature.
The dragon imparted, "There are but a few ways in which she can be freed, but only one can be accomplished by your own actions. She must journey to the Cauldron of Arianrhod and bathe in the waters of the White Goddess. But I warn you now; only the innocent of heart may enter the Cauldron, and only the strongest of sorcerers can summon her power without suffering her wrath."
"How far does this Cauldron of Arianrhod lay?" Arthur asked, not having heard its like before.
"Three days on horseback," he revealed, and the prince grimaced. Such a journey would do an ill Merlyn no favours, and he would have to find and convince a powerful sorcerer to help, not once but twice. Not many would be willing to complete such a task cheaply, and he was sure there were many who would try to hoodwink their way to riches. Yet, what other option did he have?
He needed to speak with Gaius.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The old man looked just as hopeful as Arthur felt, his strained and exhausted features brightening for the first time in weeks. But the physician reined himself in quickly to cast a stern glare at the prince.
"So you believe sorcery is evil no longer?" he asked.
Arthur dropped his gaze, shame swelling like a tide in his belly. "I think it is clear by this point my opinions were riddled with bias and fear," he said quietly. "The only time Merlyn changed from who I had believed her to be, was after she bore the Cuff. It is not right, to need smelling salts to keep her mind. I made a grave error, Gaius, and I need to correct it."
The physician's eyes were distant as he replied, voice haunted by memories, "I hear her crying in the night sometimes. Even when she is disassociated, unable to consciously feel, I hear her as she sleeps. No pain tonic can free her from the torment, and milk of the poppy only worsens her detachment. I can do nothing."
Arthur's heart was a tight knot, the seizing muscle disrupting the action of his lungs. He had no words, voice strangled by guilt, for there was no apology he could speak worth the air expelled.
Gaius' gaze sharpened once more, returning from where his mind had withdrawn. "We cannot tell Merlyn until we find a soul willing to work with us. I refuse to watch her heart break if her kin turn away in fear."
"Many of them owe her their life. Surely one will be willing to repay in kind."
"True sorcery is less common than Uther would have you believe," Gaius said with a jaded gaze. "Many of those who study the art can produce little more than parlour tricks, potency gained through rituals and talismans. The ones we seek are those whose skills far exceeds the masses; ones whose studies are backed by natural aptitude. There are less of them than you know, and even fewer who would risk themselves in a kingdom such as this. None with such power would be so easily contained with bars and chains."
"What of the ones Merlyn freed from the dungeons? They themselves may not be powerful, but surely, they will know of one who is. I will pay handsomely to anyone capable of summoning the White Goddess; they can name their price."
"Gold is of little value to those living off the land," the old man remarked, folding his hands within his sleeves and resting them atop the table.
"So… I will give them land," Arthur decided on a whim. "I will give them a place within Camelot's borders free of patrols and bounty hunters."
"You do not yet have the power to grant such wishes," Gaius warned, expression shifting to mild alarm.
"Not openly, no," he agreed, running with the hasty idea, churning over the possibilities. "But I organise patrols, routes and personnel. It would hardly be an effort to keep a small area guarded and absent of untrustworthy troops. As long as they are not blatant in their sorcery, there should be no issue."
"This is a dangerous gamble, sire," the old man cautioned. "If your duplicity is discovered you and those under your protection will face grave consequences."
"If that is so, then I will deal with it. This is Merlyn's best chance at freedom."
"You would risk disownment? Banishment?"
"I would risk everything," Arthur stated, almost offended Gaius needed to ask. What was a crown, and a throne, and a kingdom if they were bathed in the blood of the innocent?
Gaius heaved a heavy sigh, and Arthur knew he was conceding defeat.
"Many of those evacuated from the city had nowhere to go so Merlyn sent them to Ealdor. It has become something of a sanctuary for those with no home. The rest are scattered across the land."
Ealdor, Arthur mused, impressed with the simplicity. He would never have thought to look there on his own, yet it made perfect sense. The village was small and slightly decrepit, but it was secluded and across the border. As Camelot and Essetir were in a tentative peace, the border was only guarded at the larger passes, meaning a small cluster of people would be able to slip through if they were careful.
"I will go to Ealdor," he decided. "I can speak with them in person as a show of good faith."
"Some will be afraid if they know the Prince of Camelot is approaching. It may do more harm than good."
"This is for Merlyn," Arthur insisted. "She saved their lives; the least they can do is aid me in saving hers."
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Dearest Morgause,
It pleases me to hear that you are nearing completion in your planning. I strain under these chains, longing to break free and show them who I truly am. I know not what I would have done if you did not reach out to me, but I fear my mind would have been lost.
Now, I do not worry, for I am filled with hope. For the first time in my life, I see the dawn breaking on the horizon of this dark, cold night, and it is all thanks to you, my truest ally. I watch these people around me, settled with their small lives and bearing no regard to the greater world, of the cost their peace has bled, of the suffering borne from their king, and I feel resentment they can find even a small amount of happiness. Is their ignorance created from wilfulness or naivety? How can they not care to include all people in their goodwill? Do they agree with Uther on his stance against magic?
But then I remember these people are just like I was, conditioned to fear the unknown, terrified of being blamed if they do not comply with Uther's demands. And I pity them. They have not yet had the revelation you bestowed upon me; they do not yet understand the gift Uther is keeping from them. What his arrogance and bigotry is causing.
So tell me as soon as you are ready, my sister, and I will act. This time, I will not hesitate.
Be safe,
Morgana.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
TBC…
Oooh, foreshadowing *wiggles fingers like a terrible magician*
Hope you enjoyed, and thanks to those who commented their suggestions about Aithusa. I'm pretty set now on gender, and I'm so excited to reach the hatching (not spoilerish because… come on). It's not written obviously, being a little further ahead yet, but it is planned out and it excites me!
