Fanfiction || To Rescue a Fair Maiden || Morgana/Morgause || Part Eight

[cuzimastripper]

Title: To Rescue a Fair Maiden
Author: Sapphire Smoke cuzimastripper
Beta(s): BellaRei713
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: NC-17 for future chapters
Words: 62,656
Pairing: Morgana/Morgause
Summary: AU // As Morgana’s sixteenth birthday rapidly approaches, Morgause travels to Camelot with the hope she’ll be able to rescue her sister from King Uther before the binding spell on her powers breaks and Morgana finds herself alone in a place where having magick condemns her to death.
A/N: For NaNoWriMo 2012
Previous Parts: PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

CHAPTER XV
The Isle of the Blessed

It took four days to reach the Isle of the Blessed. Both women were completely exhausted once the magnificent island had come into view, as after their run in with Arthur, Morgause had suggested that they begin to sleep in shifts. Though Morgana found she slept much better knowing that Morgause was watching over her, they still only got half as much sleep as they needed to be fully competent. Morgause worried that it would affect their magick in a negative way, but Morgana feared she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all if they hadn’t done things that way. In the end, half strength was better than none at all.

Thankfully, they didn’t have any more close calls with the Knights of Camelot. Morgause made a point to take the off-beaten path with the hope that Arthur and his men would continue down the road. They seemed to, which Morgana was thankful for. However, going off road made the journey a lot harder and Morgana’s legs were screaming at her for rest. They paused for a moment as they looked out at the island and she leaned into Morgause, trying to tell herself not to collapse for they were nearly there.

“It’s beautiful,” Morgana told her. It looked as though a great castle once rested upon its earth, though over the years had been brought to near ruin. The mist that seemed to cover the lake it was placed on made the Isle seem rather deserted, but from what Morgause had told her that obviously wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was a spell, a way to make it seem like no one resided there anymore.

“It used to be,” Morgause responded, slipping her arm around Morgana’s waist. Her tone was solemn and the Ward looked at her, furrowing her brow. “Uther attacked us during the Great Purge. So much of it has laid waste to the world over the years, but we dare not rebuild it. If Uther knew some of us still resided here, he would come back and finish the job.”

Morgana’s heart clenched in her chest, the sympathy for how terrible it must’ve been causing tears to spring to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling awful for all the things her people - no, their people - had to go through because of the man who raised her.

Morgana knew about Uther’s fight against magick, but when it happened she wasn’t old enough to really understand how devastating it was. She felt so unattached to it all, yet now it seemed that she was closer to it than she ever thought possible. The Great Purge was talked about like a heroic fairytale in Camelot, but Morgana could see now that it was nothing but a horror story. Uther was not a hero; he was a monster. Because a part of her still cared for him, it tore Morgana to shreds inside. He was not the man she thought him to be and the realization made her rather nauseous as she looked out at Morgause’s ruined home, wishing she had known then what she knew now.

“It is not your fault,” Morgause assured her, not wanting her to feel blame when the sorceress knew that over the years Morgana’s mind had been poisoned by so many of Uther’s lies. “Sometimes we still worry he’ll come back though, which is why we have implemented the veil.”

“The veil?”

Morgause nodded her head towards the island. “It’s protected by magick; those who come to us with good intentions are able to see the truth. Those that do not see nothing but an abandoned island long forgotten by its people, even should they walk among us.”

“But he doesn’t?” Morgana began to ask with hope in her voice, “Come back, that is? We’ll be safe here?” She had worried about that while on their journey; the Isle of the Blessed was a known place of magick and Morgana didn’t understand why Morgause would hide in such an obvious place. It seemed foolish.

“He’s sends a knight or two every once in a while to check, but as the years have gone on, the less we’ve see them come by. I don’t think he believes anyone would ever dare come back here, because of its strong connection to the magickal community,” Morgause told her. “That’s why we opted to hide in plain sight; it wouldn’t be expected of us. So far, the theory has worked out rather well. Though I would never give you the assurance of safety when I cannot guarantee it, I do believe Uther will not come for us here. There is a chance I could be wrong, however.”

That didn’t make Morgana feel any better, but she understood that Morgause didn’t want to promise her something she couldn’t guarantee. Still, something protecting them was better than nothing at all, and as the Isle was filled with those of magickal blood; the protection they could offer them was far more powerful than any other city in Albion. Morgana nodded, understanding.

“Come,” Morgause encouraged her, taking her hand so she could help Morgana walk. She had noticed she was unsteady on her feet due to the tiring journey, but thought it better if they kept moving. “We’re almost there, then you can rest for as long as you like.”

Knowing Morgause was right, Morgana began to follow her towards the lake’s edge. She knew she would feel much safer sleeping once they got there, so she just had to push forward for a little while longer. Her legs ached and the muscles in her back were knotted, but as they reached the docks she breathed a sigh of relief, she would be able to sit in the small boat that would carry them to the Isle at least.

Morgause helped her to sit down, but Morgana immediately looked around in confusion. “There are no paddles,” she noted. Honestly it looked as though the boat had been abandoned, with the state of it. She hoped it wouldn’t collapse on the way there. But Morgause just smiled at her as she climbed in and took a seat beside her.

“We don’t need them.”

Her eyes flashed gold as she commanded, “Remigatio.” The boat began to move of its own accord and Morgana felt a little foolish, as she should have known it was possible to do so with magick.

Morgana briefly wondered how long it would take her until she could control her magick, let alone do so many things with it. Though it was a gift that was bestowed upon her, it was obvious that it was never meant to be easy. Like everything in life, great accomplishment only came to those who were willing to work for it. And as Morgana had just given up her life and everything she had ever known for it, she would be foolish if she didn’t make every effort to do the best she could whilst on her new path.

This was who she was now and she didn’t want to waste the opportunity to live a better, happier life. Morgana hated what her life was turning into when she was in Camelot; destined to be married off to the highest bidder to a man she didn’t love, forced to live a life with no adventure or excitement. Perhaps she had more of it now than she could probably handle, but Morgana didn’t regret her decision; she knew this was where she was meant to be and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

When they reached land, Morgause extended her hand to help her out of the boat. Morgana looked up at the remnants of the magnificent castle in awe; despite it being overgrown and looking rather deserted, it really was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. She didn’t have much time to take everything in however, as an aging woman quickly approached them, a look of utter disbelief plastered on her face.

“Morgause!” she called out, relieved to see her back. She practically knocked the blonde over as she enveloped her in a tight embrace, tears swimming behind her eyes. “I feared you wouldn’t come back to us,” she whispered, her emotions seemingly more than she could handle. Morgause hugged her back just as tight, a huge smile on her face as she was reunited with someone she obviously cared very deeply for.

“I promised you I would. I wouldn’t go back on my word,” Morgause told her, her voice catching from the force of her own emotion. When they broke, the woman turned to Morgana, looking at her as though she had seen a ghost.

“Oh, and look at you,” she gushed, bringing her hand up to cup Morgana’s cheek gently in her hand, as though she feared she was made out of glass. “You look so much like your mother. I can hardly believe you’re really here.”

Morgana felt a little awkward, as she didn’t know who this woman was, but she gave her a small smile. Not many people knew her mother and could never make such a statement, so Morgana found herself proud to find out that she looked so much like her. She wished Uther would have told her that, but he never spoke about her parents; she had always believed it was because the memory of their death was too painful for him. As she understood it, they were very close.

“Morgana, this is my aunt Llamrei,” Morgause introduced, realizing Morgana looked a little overwhelmed with being confronted by someone who knew her, yet she had no knowledge of. “After I left Camelot, she was the one who raised me.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Llamrei,” Morgana said, bowing her head a little in acknowledgement. She smiled, glad that Morgause had someone to call family. As she had never spoken of any, other than the fact that her mother was deceased, Morgana wasn’t sure if she had anyone growing up.

“Come inside, dears; you must be exhausted,” Llamrei beckoned, ushering them through the courtyard to the entrance of the castle. “I’ve kept your room made up, Morgause. Morgana can stay with you until we make other arrangements for her.”

Morgause glanced at Morgana out of the corner of her eye and after their eyes had met, Morgana politely shook her head. “That’s very kind of you, but if it’s all the same, I would prefer to continue rooming with Morgause. I think I would feel most comfortable there and besides, I wouldn’t want you to be put through the trouble of trying to find somewhere to keep me.”

Llamrei looked back at Morgause for a moment as if to confirm that was what she wished as well, and as she was met with a nod she responded, “If that’s what you wish, then that will of course be acceptable.”

As they entered the castle, they were met with a few stares from other sorcerers who had gathered in the main hall to see who had come to their island. Morgana wondered how many of them knew who she was, or knew that she was the reason Morgause had left. She didn’t have long to contemplate it however, as Llamrei began speaking again.

“Why don’t you show Morgana to your quarters,” she suggested to Morgause. “Get yourself settled and rest a bit. We’ll speak at dinner.”

Her response was a nod and Morgause laced her fingers between Morgana’s, gently guiding her down another hallway and away from everyone else. The Ward didn’t realize how tired she was until Morgause showed her to their room; when her head hit the pillow she was out within moments, Morgause’s arms wrapped tightly around her.

It turned out to be the best sleep she had had in quite a long time.

[x]

When Morgause awoke she found Morgana lying peacefully next to her, fast asleep. Morgause gently brushed the hair back from her sister’s face, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips. Since they had been on the road, Morgause had always watched her toss and turn in her sleep. Nightmares seemed to plague Morgana constantly and it was nice to see her completely relaxed for once, even though Morgause knew it was only temporary. Once Morgana awoke, she would want to send her letter to Uther right away and once more become overcome with worry until she received an answer. Coming here was the first step in rescuing Gwen, but they both knew they had a long way to go from here.

Morgause climbed out of bed carefully, so as not to disturb her. After she had changed into a clean set of clothing, she quickly exited her bedroom and let her feet carry her down the hallway to the room of elders, where she guessed her aunt was residing. She was more than likely informing the council of the newest resident, so everyone was aware of who Morgana was and would welcome her with open arms.

However, that was what Morgause was afraid of.

She had meant to tell Llamrei that she hadn’t yet revealed who she really was to Morgana, but sleep overtook her the second she had lain down with her. Morgause had merely wished to lull her sister into slumber and then find her aunt, but it seemed she had underestimated her own exhaustion. Now she worried everyone would know and it would force her to reveal the truth much sooner than she was ready for. If she were to be honest, the conversation absolutely terrified her and Morgause wanted to put it off as long as humanly possible.

When she entered the council chambers, she was surprised to find it empty. Hope entered Morgause’s heart that Llamrei had yet to call them all together and she turned, heading towards her aunt’s room instead. But she didn’t find her there either and thus began a search that took much longer than Morgause expected.

She finally found Llamrei in the garden behind the castle and Morgause chided herself on her stupidity, because she should have known. The elderly sorcerer who had taken care of the crops for many years had just recently passed on and her aunt had taken on the responsibility just before Morgause had left. By the look on Llamrei’s face as she tended to them though, it seemed she quite enjoyed it and Morgause was glad.

When her aunt looked up, her face colored with surprise. “Morgause,” she greeted. “I had thought you would still be resting.” She used her hands to hoist herself up rather unsteadily, but Morgause knew better than to try to help her; Llamrei was very stubborn when it came to the ailments of her aging and never wished for any assistance.

“I need to speak with you,” Morgause told her, crossing the distance between them. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” Llamrei answered, ushering her over to the stone bench situated just underneath the large apple tree. Morgause took a seat next to her and Llamrei placed a comforting hand on her knee. “What troubles you, child? You look worried.”

Morgause chewed lightly on her bottom lip for a moment, wondering how to word this. She decided it was probably best to be straightforward though and responded, “I’m concerned that you may have already told the council who Morgana really is.”

Llamrei’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would that trouble you? The council would not reject to her training, if that is what you fear; she is a High Priestess, magick is her birthright.”

Though the council did elect not to train some sorcerers who they feared would use their magick for destructive ends, that thought never crossed Morgause’s mind. There wasn’t an evil bone in her sister’s body. Besides, as Llamrei mentioned, it was her birthright. High Priestesses were the Goddess’s instruments on earth and even if they did wish to use their magick for destruction, it was much too powerful to be left unattended. In that case, all the council could do was try to teach the girl good values and hope that she would make the right decision.

Outside of Nimueh, whose morals were questionable at best, there hadn’t been many issues with that. But, as Morgause had been told, Nimueh had every reason in the world to be consumed with hatred and revenge. She could not fault her for it and it seemed neither could the council, though they have made a point to keep a close eye on her after she was banished from Camelot’s court. They did not want her to make trouble, especially as their numbers were so few already.

“No, that’s not it,” Morgause replied as she shook her head. She looked down at her hands, unable to meet her aunt’s eye. “It’s just that I… I haven’t exactly told Morgana that we’re blood. I don’t want someone else revealing it before I have the chance to do it myself. She would never forgive me.”

Llamrei peered at her, as if trying to decipher why Morgause looked so ashamed of herself. It seemed she could not though, so she asked, “And why haven’t you told her yet?”

Morgause stayed silent.

Llamrei sighed softly, her tone regrettable. “I’m very sorry, Morgause, but most people here already know of Morgana’s relation to you. I had told the elders after you left that you went in search of your sister; I hadn’t thought you wished to keep it a secret.”

Morgana’s throat constricted and she found it hard to breathe. No, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. She had let herself hope that since she did not find her aunt in the council chambers that perhaps she would have more time, but it seemed it was a foolish thing to believe. Of course Llamrei would have told them; she should have expected that her departure would raise questions.

“I do not think there is much to worry about, my dear,” Llamrei continued, trying to comfort her. “It seems you two have grown very close; I believe she would be happy to hear that you are family. It might even make her feel more comfortable here. It must be hard for the poor girl, to have everything she had ever known change in an instant. Telling her might bring her some peace and the knowledge that she is where she belongs.”

Morgause shook her head. “It’s not that simple,” she whispered, distraught over how things had turned out. She would have to tell Morgana the truth before her sister ventured out of their room and it made Morgause sick to her stomach. She was terrified that Morgana would be furious with her; or worse, disgusted that Morgause allowed something to happen between them when she knew all along that they were blood linked.

“And why is that?” Llamrei asked carefully, noting how upset Morgause was getting. The blonde still did not speak. Llamrei squeezed her knee encouragingly and said, “Morgause, whatever it is, I promise I will not judge. I know if you’re this afraid of telling her then there must be a good reason. Let me help you.”

Morgause hesitated for a long time, staring out at the garden. She seemed to be more looking through it rather than at it though, as more and more bad scenarios played out in the back of her mind. “I, uh…” she began, but it seemed the words could not come. “We…” Morgause closed her eyes and swallowed her fear, hoping Llamrei spoke the truth when she told her she wouldn’t judge. “We’ve… grown much closer,” she told her quietly, “than sisters should.”

Llamrei’s eyebrows shot upwards and she spoke, probably much louder than she actually intended due to her surprise, “You took her as your lover?”

Hearing it said out loud like that made Morgause color in shame and she hid her face in her hands, feeling for the first time the full extent of the wrong she had done. Before, in Camelot, it seemed almost like a dream, surreal and full of more magick than either of them could ever hope to possess. But the dream had passed and now that she was home, the harsh reality of her situation came to light. She hadn’t thought before what she would do once she got back to the Isle in regards to her relationship with Morgana, she was merely thinking of how to get them there safely and in one piece.

“I didn’t go looking for it,” Morgause tried to explain, desperately hoping her aunt wouldn’t think of her in a negative light for it. Llamrei was the closest thing she had to a mother and she couldn’t bear to disappointment in such a way. “It just happened. I’m sorry, really I am. I should have had more restraint, you’ve taught me better than to be seduced by fantasies.”

Llamrei looked at her for a long time, the silence nearly driving Morgause to madness. Finally Llamrei moved, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. “My dear, even High Priestesses are not equipped against the pull of love. Never fault yourself for that. You’ve seen with your own eyes that some of us here do not walk through life alone. Though ties like that can complicate things, we do not condemn it.”

Morgause nodded, understanding that part of it. But before she could say anything, Llamrei continued.

“However I do think that it was very unwise of you to embark on such a relationship without first telling Morgana the truth.” Her tone was chiding and Morgause colored in shame once more. “It is not my place to judge where you find your happiness, but it is Morgana’s. What you two have is quite unorthodox, even in our community, and I fear that she may not be as comfortable with the truth as you are.”

Right now, Morgause didn’t feel very comfortable with the truth. She had never given a thought as to how other people would perceive their relationship, and though she had seen women with other women on the Isle, never had they been a pair of sisters. Though in the end, Morgause knew what other people thought of them really was no matter; what counted was what Morgana thought, and that was what paralyzed her with fear.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose her,” Morgause whispered. Her fear and sadness welled up in her chest, bringing tears to her eyes. She didn’t know how she could live with herself after finally finding Morgana, only to lose her due to her own idiocy. It would kill her inside.

“You might,” Llamrei told her, not one to lie. “But if she truly cares for you as much as you seem to care for her, I believe the most you will have to worry about is her anger, which she has every right to feel. It was very selfish of you to lie to her like that, Morgause.”

“I know,” Morgause replied softly, wiping a fallen tear from her eye. She felt awful; she had allowed her desire to overrun her sense of decency and that was not the kind of person she was raised to be. Llamrei must be so disappointed with her. She was disappointed in herself. “I’ll tell her.”

“Now,” Llamrei finished pointedly, which sounded more like an order than a request. Morgause nodded, knowing she had no room to argue with her.

“Now,” she quietly agreed as she stood up, her heart beginning to pound heavily in her chest as her nerves overtook her. But Morgause swallowed her fear as she headed back towards the castle, knowing she had to do this.

If she didn’t, someone else would surely tell Morgana; and that would end up being far worse…

CHAPTER XVI
The Long Awaited Truth

When Morgause returned to their room, Morgana was in the midst of getting dressed. The door opening suddenly caused Morgana to squeak in surprise and she attempted to cover herself, believing Morgause to be someone else. Morgause still averted her eyes however and quickly apologized, embarrassed to have walked in on her sister in such a state; especially considering what she came here to do. “I’m sorry, I should have knocked. I had thought you were still asleep. I’ll just-” She moved to leave, wanting to allow Morgana some privacy, but the Ward interrupted her.

“No, its… its fine just, please, shut the door,” Morgana requested, holding her gown across her chest to hide her shift from view. “I don’t wish to be on display for all who happen to pass by.”

Morgause hurriedly did as she was told, feeling rather foolish. She was so terrified about coming here to begin with, and accidently walking in on Morgana in a state of undress was not helping matters. When she was so exposed her beauty radiated even more so and it made it difficult for Morgause to breathe, let alone think straight. So once she had closed the door, Morgause made a point to not look at her, knowing this would be easier if she wasn’t being taunted by forbidden desires.

“I need to speak with you,” she told Morgana, her back turned to her until she was sure her sister had dressed herself. “It’s… it’s urgent.” The words had a hard time getting past her lips and came out rather broken and fearful as she dug her thumbnail into her palm, trying to distract herself from her fear.

She probably should have not said that so soon though, as it made Morgana concerned and she abandoned her task of dressing in proper attire. “What is it?” she asked, her tone heightened with worry as she crossed the room to stand beside her, her gown forgotten on the floor. She put her hand on Morgause’s shoulder, forcing her to turn around and face her. “Is it Gwen? Did you hear something?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Morgause assured her. “I just…” But the words wouldn’t come. Her gaze fell from Morgana’s face and downwards to her breasts before she could stop herself. Her shift left little to the imagination and Morgause’s face colored as she took a step backwards from her, feeling ashamed of her lack of control. What was she, an animal? Given the circumstances, her thoughts were extremely inappropriate and she needed to get a hold on them.

What she had to say was much more important than how she felt right now.

“Please,” Morgause requested softly, averting her gaze. She really didn’t want Morgana to know what she was thinking right then, but if she wished to have this conversation then she had to be honest about what was preventing her from voicing it. Besides, what right did she have to see Morgana like that after she admits that she lied to her? Morgause would count herself lucky if her sister wished to see her at all after this, regardless of her attire or lack thereof. “It would be easier for me to speak to you if you had some clothes on. You are… incredibly distracting right now.”

Morgana looked momentarily confused, but realized rather quickly what Morgause meant. “Oh! I… I’m sorry,” Morgana stumbled, now becoming the one who was embarrassed. She covered her breasts with her arm as she turned around, hurrying back over to her gown so she could pick it up off the floor. “I wasn’t thinking; I was just afraid-”

“It’s not as though I don’t wish to see you like that,” Morgause interrupted, the words coming out of her mouth before she even had a chance to process what she was saying. “I’m just very afraid you won’t want me to after I…”

But she couldn’t finish. The words stuck in her throat and Morgause closed her eyes, knowing she said too much too fast. “I just… no,” she tried to backtrack, though it was probably of little use. Morgana wasn’t deaf, nor stupid. “I just mean that it’s hard to concentrate on my words when you’re like that, is all.”

But Morgana wasn’t fooled. “Morgause, what is it?” she asked, her voice suddenly sounding small as she clutched her gown to her chest, as though it’s fabric might bring her the sense of comfort she so desperately needed then. “You’re scaring me.”

Morgause hated this. Her fear was nearly choking her alive and in the process she was scaring Morgana. That wasn’t fair to her; she had never meant to hurt her and yet it seemed that’s what was to come of her selfish decision to not be honest. It tore her heart in half and the feeling threatened to devour her whole.

Morgause turned around to face her and Morgana’s fearful vulnerability shattered her sanity. She crossed the room to her in an instant, emotion welling up inside of her with every step. When she reached her sister, Morgause cupped her cheek in her hand, tears of regret stinging the back of her eyes as she looked at the one person who had brought so much beauty into her life. Without thought or hesitation, their lips met and Morgana clung to her, quite possibly understanding this may be the last kiss they ever shared. It was feverish, desperate, and utterly heartbreaking. Morgause poured every emotion she had into her, needing Morgana to understand how much she truly cared for her, how much warmth she had brought to her life, and how very sorry she was that she was about to destroy the only thing that made them feel whole.

“Remember that,” she begged her softly, resting her forehead against her sister’s. Morgause closed her eyes as if she were trying to block out what was to come, but not before a tear fell and landed on Morgana’s flushed cheek. The Ward took a shuddered inhale of breath as Morgause continued, “Please, Morgan,; you owe me no favors, but I beg of you to remember how much I feel for you…”

“What is it? Morgause, please,” Morgana pleaded, her voice tight as she tried to keep herself from crying. She clung to her arm, her nails digging into Morgause’s skin from the desperation her grip held. Morgana seemed to lose the battle with her emotions however as the first tear fell from her eyes. “Is it…?” she began to ask, fear coloring her tone as she drew the wrong conclusion. Morgana could barely get out the words; they seemed to hurt her so badly. “Is it that you- Do you… have someone else here?”

“No,” Morgause told her, voice strained from emotion. She couldn’t even fathom that possibility and didn’t see how Morgana could either. She shook her head as she wiped away her tears, assuring her, “It has only ever been you, Morgana. I promise you that...”

“Then what is it?!” Morgana exclaimed, shrieking with desperation for an answer. Morgause’s inability to just come out and say it was making her even more afraid and her hands connected with the blonde’s arms, pushing her backwards in fearful frustration before grasping onto one of her hands. “Just tell me, please; I cannot bear feeling like this! You’re speaking to me as though we’ll never see each other again, can’t you understand how that frightens me?!”

“I know, I’m sorry-” Morgause tried, hating herself because she knew she was making this worse than it had to be. She shook her head, having to turn away from Morgana for a moment to try to collect herself. After violently wiping away the tears that kept sliding down her cheeks, she told her in a broken whisper, “I lied to you, about who I really am. I’m sorry, but after all that’s happened I was too afraid to tell you.” Morgause couldn’t look her in the eye as she said it and she felt like such a coward.

Morgana’s bottom lip quivered, yet she stood her ground and her voice was stronger than Morgause was expecting. “Then who are you?” she demanded. Though she looked as though she was on the verge of falling apart, she pushed it aside in an instant. Morgause wished she could do the same.

“My name is Morgause and I was born in Camelot, I never lied about that,” Morgause began, her voice trembling with the fear of what would follow her admission. “I was raised here and I am a High Priestess. But…” She hesitated and despite how hard her heart was pounding in her chest, despite the sorrow that could follow this conversation, Morgause knew she owed it to Morgana to at least face her when she told her the truth.

She turned and their eyes met. Morgana was holding her breath, apprehension and doubt swimming behind her emerald eyes as she waited for Morgause to finish. Gathering up every bit of courage she had inside of her, Morgause forced herself to finish, “But my mother was the Lady Vivienne; my father, Sir Gorlois Le Fay.”

Morgana did not speak, she did not move, she barely even blinked. She just stared at her, stock still, and Morgause took the opportunity to try to explain.

“When the Great Purge happened, Uther was already aware of my magick and so to keep me safe mother gave me to Llamrei, who smuggled me out of the city,” Morgause told her, her words coming out of her mouth nearly all in one breath, fearing interruption. “But as you were young enough that they had yet to emerge, she kept you in Camelot and bound your magick, as she knew it would be harder to believe if she claimed both of her children had died during the riots. That’s… that’s the real reason I came for you; I knew the spell was about to break and I couldn’t let my own blood be left to the wrath of Uther Pendragon, should he have found out who you truly were.”

Morgana still said nothing. Morgause felt the silence begin to consume her sanity and suddenly desperation overtook her. She grasped for her sister’s hand, begging her, “Please forgive me, I didn’t-” But suddenly Morgana moved and Morgause’s words were cut short as her sister’s hand was ripped from her grasp, connecting violently with her cheek instead. Morgause stumbled backwards, stunned as she held her stinging flesh. Though she knew she deserved it, she hadn’t quite expected it.

“Get out.”

Morgana’s words were hollow, as though she felt detached from reality. She stared at her in disbelief and regret masked over Morgause’s face as she tried to take a step forwards. She needed her to understand. “Morgana, please-”

“I said get out!”

Morgana’s voice was a fitful shriek, her eyes wild with anger over the betrayal of trust. Morgause wanted to say something, anything; she needed to make it better, but she didn’t want to enrage her sister any further. This was her fault and she didn’t have a say in what happened now. And so as another tear slipped down her cheek, Morgause turned from Morgana, allotting her the one thing she desired right now.

All she could do now was hope that it wouldn’t be the last.

[x]

Morgana’s emotions were overwhelming. She felt so much that all of it seemed to contradict each other, leaving her confused and feeling very much alone. She cried for what seemed like forever, desperately trying to understand the difference between what she did feel and what she should feel; it all seemed to jumble together and Morgana found she barely even knew her own thoughts anymore. She was just overcome by so many emotions that they wrapped her up, suffocating the breath from her as she desperately tried to understand.

She didn’t know why she was so angry with Morgause. Was it because the one person she trusted the most had lied to her, or because Morgause had willingly embarked on a relationship with her whilst knowing the truth of their lineage? Because Morgana was feeling everything at once, she was unsure if the latter even mattered, in the grand scheme of things. Would she have never felt this way for Morgause if she knew they were sisters? Morgana wasn’t sure, and the uncertainty was maddening. Perhaps if she knew, she could discover why she was really angry with her.

She missed her terribly; it felt as though when Morgause walked out that door that she took a piece of Morgana’s heart with her. But the Ward was so angry that she didn’t want to see it returned until she was ready to forgive her; it was just that, at the moment, Morgana was unsure which part warranted the apology. Maybe all of it did.

The thought made her uncomfortable, embarking on a romantic relationship with someone of her own blood. Morgana was raised to believe something like that was wrong, but then again, she was also raised to believe that any Sapphic dalliances were wrong. So what was the difference, really? Morgana pushed the belief of normalcy aside once she found she felt so much for Morgause, because how could something so wrong feel so right? So would it not be the same for an incestuous relationship, or was Morgana merely trying to make excuses for their wrongdoing? Her uncertainty about how she truly felt was what really made her uncomfortable, more than the actual notion of what they had done.

It was as though she didn’t know her own heart anymore.

After quite some time, Morgana found she couldn’t cry anymore. Everything that had happened had drained her emotionally, yet the world did not stop just because Morgause had lied to her. With or without her help, Morgana needed to make sure Gwen was okay. So after she hastily wrote a letter to Uther, Morgana left their room in search of someone who would help her send it.

She climbed the stairs to the tallest tower, assuming that was where they kept their ravens. However when she opened the door, she found the tower empty save a fount and a woman, who’s back was turned to Morgana as she peered into it. “I’m sorry,” the Ward apologized, embarrassed to have interrupted someone she did not know. “I was looking for your ravens. Where are they kept?”

The woman did not speak for a long moment and Morgana wondered if she was deaf. “Ravens are called to us,” she said finally, although did not give Morgana the courtesy of at least turning around when she addressed her. “They are not kept.” The tone in her voice made Morgana feel foolish for assuming that they were, although she had no prior knowledge of how things were done here.

“I do not know how to call them forth,” Morgana admitted quietly. That made the woman turn towards her, her gaze drinking in all that Morgana was and silently assessing who it was that had stepped foot in her tower. Finally she smiled; it was highly unsettling.

“Morgana Pendragon,” she assumed, taking a step towards her. “I’ve been waiting many years for you to finally join us; you are most welcome here.”

“Le Fay,” Morgana corrected, a little startled that someone actually believed she was of royal blood. No one had ever assumed such a thing before, but then perhaps, everyone in Camelot knew her true lineage. “Uther Pendragon was merely my caregiver.”

The woman did not comment on Morgana’s correction. Instead she introduced, “I am Nimueh, High Priestess of the Triple Goddess.”

Morgana’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard of you,” she said, though it seemed strange that the woman she had heard of was the same one that was standing before her; Nimueh looked much too young to be the same person. However she still looked upon the witch in disdain. “You were banished from Camelot’s court. You… you killed Uther’s wife, Arthur’s mother.”

“No,” Nimueh corrected strongly. “Uther’s foolish insistence was what killed Ygraine. I warned him there would be consequences to bringing a life into this world, he did not listen.”

Morgana side glanced her, unsure if she should trust what the sorceress had to say. “You mean to tell me that you brought Arthur into this world?” Her tone was skeptical. The Uther she knew would never condone such a thing.

“Ygraine could not conceive and your King was desperate for an heir.” Nimueh noted Morgana’s look and said, “You do not have to believe me, but it is the truth.”

Morgana was led to believe that the Great Purge began when Nimueh stole the life of Uther’s wife. The thing was, he had never said why it was her fault. Morgana knew Ygraine died in childbirth, but she always wondered what that had to do with Nimueh. It didn’t make sense, but she never had the courage to ask; Ygraine’s death was something that was never spoken about, ever. It was possible that the woman before her was speaking the truth, but she still found it hard to trust her.

“Why do you look so young?” she asked suddenly, feeling as though Nimueh’s deceiving appearance made it more difficult for Morgana to trust her. If she truly was the same woman, she should be well past half her life by now, yet she looked like she had barely seen two dozen winters.

Nimueh smirked, amused by her question. “Vanity exists even in the highest of beings, Morgana. I appear this way because it suits me.”

Morgana’s eyebrow arched at her self-assessment of being a ‘higher being.’ She seemed terribly full of herself. Morgause had the same title and yet did not come off as such, so Nimueh’s words left a bitter taste in Morgana’s mouth.

“Vanity is merely a way to overshadow one’s lack of self-confidence.”

Now it was Nimueh’s turn to arch an eyebrow in her direction. She looked both insulted, yet impressed by Morgana’s boldness. “Perhaps,” was all she offered. Morgana was surprised she did not try to deny it, yet said nothing in response.

After a long moment’s pause, Morgana steered the conversation back to its original course. “The ravens,” she mentioned, taking a few steps towards Nimueh. “You could call one forth for me? I need to send a letter and it is imperative that it cannot be traced back to here.”

“I could,” Nimueh replied, yet finished pointedly with, “But I won’t.” Morgana’s face fell, unable to understand why Nimueh wouldn’t help her. She did not have to wait long for an explanation though. “You are foolish to contact him so soon, Morgana; you will be expected to return once his response reaches you. You will not be allowing yourself proper time to be trained and should you go back there before you are, you will be slaughtered in your attempt to rescue the servant.”

“How do you know my business?” Morgana asked sharply, her face darkening as she took an angry step towards Nimueh. She did not trust the witch, she was sure of that now. “We haven’t told anyone on the Isle our intentions yet, so how is it that you know?”

Nimueh didn’t seem fazed by Morgana’s anger. “Like you, I am a Seer,” she explained calmly.

“I am no Seer.”

“No?” Nimueh asked, a hint of amusement in her tone as she circled her fount. “Have you not had any of your dreams come true then?”

That made Morgana pause. She didn’t really think of her dream about Morgause in such a way, yet Nimueh was right, it had come true. Still, it wasn’t as though it made much sense at the time. Morgana had always believed the things Seers saw were clear in their message; Nimueh’s seemed to be, after all. She knew far too many details for her dreams to be shrouded in confusing images, like Morgana’s were.

“You see the future in your dreams as well, then?” Morgana asked, her tone still sharp and accusing. She didn’t know what else to say other than that, as Nimueh had been correct in her assumption.

“No,” she told her, shaking her head. “The power to the see the future is a rare gift. I am a trained Seer, not a born one. I am merely able to view events as they occur, using this.” She motioned to her fount and Morgana took a few steps forward, peering into it.

“It just looks like water, to me.” Her tone held skepticism and she looked back up at Nimueh.

“That is because you lack the skill,” the witch told her, tone unkind with her harsh honesty. “You are a Seer and yet cannot conjure that which is there for you to see; the simplest of magick for someone of your kind to achieve. What good do you think you’ll do when you march on Camelot’s walls, when you know absolutely nothing?”

Morgana flushed in anger. “Do not speak to me that way; you do not know me nor what I am able to do.”

“You are foolish and uneducated,” Nimueh blatantly responded. She took a step towards her though, the intensity beneath her gaze making Morgana feel terribly uncomfortable. “But you have the potential to be one of the greatest sorceresses Albion has ever known, should you not be stupid enough to waste the opportunity you have been given.”

Morgana stared at her, beginning to hate the woman that stood in front of her. No one had never dared speak to her in such a manner. What made it worse was that Morgana knew Nimueh’s words held truth in them; what could she do, really, should she leave the Isle untrained? Morgause’s magick could only bring them so far with a full frontal assault to the city. Not that she wished it would come to that, but perhaps she was foolish to ever hope for anything different.

It pained Morgana to do so, but through clenched teeth she forced herself to ask, “What do you suggest then?”

Nimueh smiled, pleased that Morgana saw things her way. “Wait,” she told her. “The King does not know how far you are going to travel before you reach your destination. The longer you wait, the further he will assume you are; hence, the longer he will wait for you to return to him.”

Morgana chewed on the inside of her cheek. She did not want to wait; she needed to know if Gwen was safe. “I can’t,” she told her. “Foolish as it may be, I need to have the assurance that my friend is alright.”

“You do not need Uther’s words to find out the servant’s fate,” Nimueh told her before backing up a few steps. “Come,” she beckoned her, leading her back to the fount. Morgana followed, her heart beginning to beat heavily in her chest. She feared what Nimueh would show her. What if Gwen had already been killed? She could not bear the thought.

“Ostende mihi veritatem,” Nimueh whispered as she waved her hand over the water in the basin. Morgana’s eyes widened as the water changed, becoming a vision of Gwen, locked in the dungeons of Camelot. She looked frightened, yet was unharmed. Tears sprang to Morgana’s eyes as she looked upon her friend; she was relieved to see that she was alive, yet her heart clenched with guilt as she saw what her freedom had cost her.

“If you wish, I will show you your friend every day that you’re here, so that you may be assured that she is unharmed,” Nimueh offered. As the vision of Gwen disappeared and the basin was filled with nothing but water once more, Morgana looked up at her.

“Why?” she asked, wondering what was in it for Nimueh. “Why would you help me?”

“Because you will be the one to bring about Uther Pendragon’s destruction,” Nimueh told her without hesitation. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “And I have waited many years to see his end.”

“No,” Morgana told her, shaking her head. She took a few steps back from her. “You have the wrong person. I merely wish to rescue my friend, that is all.”

“You cannot fight your destiny, Morgana, no more than you can stop the world from turning.”

Morgana stared at her, stomach weighing heavy with upset. She did not like how assured Nimueh was when she said that. Though she was angry with Uther for what he had done to their kind, he had still taken care of her for many years. She did not wish to see him dead; she would rather see him come to his senses about magick.

But perhaps that was far too much to hope for.

TBC…