Fic: Foresight
Summary: Fairly Morgana-centric, slight angst, multiship. Morgana and Arthur grow up, Arthur and Gwen sneak around, Gwen and Lancelot are unsubtle, and Morgana and Merlin trade secrets.
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Morgana, Merlin/Morgana, Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, hints of other pairings and OT3ness. (Why yes, I am greedy with my ships.)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Alternating timeline, crazy Camelot love pentagram of doom...
Spoilers: 2.02 and 2.03 just about, if you know what you’re looking for.
Word Count: ~2,600
Disclaimer: Really not mine
A/N: Written for the challenge 5 “magic” prompt at merlin_rarepair. ETA: Now with shiny banner! Made by ed_84.
-
Morgana is shaking the first time she attends a public execution. The day is warm, the air thick and heavy with sweet flowery scents.
Arthur is standing beside her. He is only a year older than she is, but she is young and this seems like a lot.
“You can look away,” he says quietly. “I won’t tease you if you do.”
She does not reply; in her faintness she is overwhelmed by the steady beat of the drum, Uther’s hand about to drop, and, more than anything, the terrible feeling that this man is innocent of all but curiosity.
Arthur grabs her hand, more for his own comfort than hers, though he would never admit it.
The axe falls.
Arthur’s grip is so tight it hurts, but she cannot tell him to let go.
-
“I have to go away,” says Morgana. “You understand.”
“I do,” says Merlin.
“I have to know who I am.”
“I know who you are. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”
She kisses his cheek softly. She would tell him that what he says is most definitely not true, but they are parting and she has no wish to argue.
-
“You’re sitting on my leg,” says Morgana. Arthur ignores her and then his mouth is covering hers again. It is pleasant that he is on top of her, because his body is warm and the castle is draughty, but she pushes him until he budges and they are both more comfortable.
He pulls his head away for a second. “Dust up my nose,” he explains and his face twitches wildly. She giggles because right now everything is funnier than it ought to be.
They are sixteen and tipsy and kissing under the stairs. They will never bring this up again; that would be tantamount to admitting they liked it.
-
Morgana leaves Camelot without saying goodbye to Arthur. He would just insist she stay - or, more likely, he would say nothing and her heart would break.
-
Gwen helps Morgana to take down her hair after an evening of celebration.
“You looked very beautiful,” she says. “I mean, you always look beautiful.”
“I wouldn’t look half as nice without your help.” Morgana smiles and shakes her head so that her hair falls down in a dark curtain.
“Arthur certainly couldn’t stop staring,” says Gwen teasingly as she starts to unfasten the dress.
Morgana snorts. “It’s a bit unfortunate there’s no one around I’d actually want to impress.”
Gwen shrugs. “Maybe Arthur just needs a chance to show you his sensitive side.”
There is a pause.
Then they both burst out laughing.
-
Arthur knows he cannot have Guinevere, cannot marry her, cannot even talk to her as an equal, but he is King now. No one should be able to tell him what he can and cannot do.
He has to propose three times.
“Will you marry me?” he asks.
Guinevere laughs. He is somewhat put out. “Oh, don’t be silly, Arthur,” she says.
“Why not? You said you loved me.” He is annoyed at how pathetic he sounds.
“And I do. But you know why not,” she says.
He tries again the next day: “I want to marry you, Guinevere.”
She takes him seriously this time. “You really do, don’t you?”
“More than anything. You have no idea.”
She looks slightly guilty. “You’re lonely,” she says.
He does not know what to say to that. “Sometimes,” he concedes.
“You have Merlin.”
“He doesn’t kiss as well as you do,” he jokes sadly.
The third time, they are running back to the castle together before anyone can notice that the King and a handmaiden are both missing.
“It’s a wonder we haven’t been caught yet.” Guinevere laughs breathlessly as they hide behind a buttress. “You’re so unsubtle.”
“Marry me?” he asks, giddy from lack of air.
“Yes,” she says and he is so surprised that he does not do anything for a second.
“I think you’re supposed to kiss me now,” says Guinevere, smiling, he assumes, at her slow realisation that she has such an influence on men.
-
“You like that Lancelot fellow, don’t you?” asks Morgana, because he is the talk of the castle.
“He’s not really my type,” says Gwen yet again.
“I think he might be mine,” says Morgana with a mischievous smile.
Gwen tries to change the subject, at least a little. “He’s very loyal to the King and to Camelot.”
“Imagine all that loyalty directed at you, how romantic!” Morgana is off in a world of her own. “And he doesn’t get all up himself, either.”
“Like Arthur, you mean.” Gwen has an irritatingly knowing smile on her face.
“I just meant, like most of the knights. I didn’t mean Arthur.”
Even Gwen can see straight through that lie. Morgana hastily tries to change the subject.
-
“Come with me,” says Lancelot, honest and hopeful. “I love you more than the stars love the night, than-”
“Shush,” says Guinevere. “I know. I wish I didn’t.”
“Do you wish I would not love you?”
She is silent.
-
“You’re cheating,” decides Arthur. They are practising their archery and although Arthur is doing well, Morgana is doing better.
She may be cheating very slightly, but it is for Arthur’s own good. He needs to learn to be gracious in defeat - and, of course, it is unspeakably satisfying to watch his face contort as he is presented with the prospect of losing.
Merlin and Gwen are watching and Merlin has probably guessed why she is winning, but fortunately for everyone he has said nothing.
“Maybe you’ll just have to accept that there are some things I’m better at,” replies Morgana.
Arthur gives a condescending snort. “There’s no way you’re better. You’re better at things like combing your hair and flouncing about the place and... and sitting around, looking pretty.”
“It’s true, I am pretty,” agrees Morgana. Arthur is taken aback for a second by what he has conceded.
“That’s not the point,” he says quickly. “The point is you’re cheating.”
“How?” she asks with a perfectly innocent expression.
“You must have tampered with my bow or maybe-” He stops as she offers her own bow to him. To take it and lose would mean complete humiliation.
“I’m not... I’ll win anyway,” he decides.
He loses.
“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” says Merlin later, though she can tell he is amused by Arthur’s comeuppance.
“No, probably not. It was fun, though. Magic doesn’t have to be frightening,” she tells him.
“You’re right,” he says cheerfully, “it doesn’t.”
She is suddenly excited by the prospects opening up to her. “There are so many things I could do, Merlin!”
He is looking at her strangely, hopefully even and then all of a sudden he kisses her on the lips.
She smiles, because it was sweet and sincere just like him, but Merlin looks startled and backs away. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to...”
She tries to reassure him. “It’s okay, Merlin, don’t worry.”
“It’s just it was so nice, so nice to have someone who...”
“Someone who...”
“Who trusts me. With a secret like that.” She can tell that was not what he was going to say.
“Well, now you can trust me with this one.”
“You won’t say anything?”
She puts her finger to her lips with a smile.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
-
Morgana is beautiful and terrifying.
Merlin tries not to show his fear, but when she speaks her voice chills him.
“I could command the seas and skies, reduce your precious castle to rubble…”
“I know,” says Merlin. “So could I.”
Morgana laughs. “Bring it on.”
-
The sun is about to set and the crops spread out before them are tinged with red.
“I have to get back to Arthur.” Merlin stands up. “Who knows what sort of mess he’s got himself into while I’ve been gone?”
“Do you have to go?” asks Morgana. She has told him about her attempts at conjuring and he seemed interested.
Merlin looks to the horizon. “Sorry. It’s getting late and I think Uther’s angling for an excuse to put me in the stocks again.” He is about to leave when Morgana speaks.
“Merlin…"
He turns to her in expectation.
"I’m scared of what I might become,” she confides suddenly. There is good magic and bad magic and she is not sure she will always be able to tell the difference.
Merlin pats her shoulder. “I’m not,” he says with a comforting grin before he wanders away.
Morgana looks about herself again, uneasy. She checked earlier that no one was watching them. But she knows all too well that there is no limit to what some can see, even with their eyes tight shut.
Merlin is halfway across the field when she finally murmurs after him:
“Maybe you should be.”
-
Morgana is at his mercy. Merlin could make sure she never hurts anyone again.
She is quiet in defeat. She juts her chin up defiantly and her neck is exposed to him, milk-white and vulnerable.
He lets her go.
-
“Did Arthur come to see you?” asks Morgana.
“Yes,” says Gwen with her shy, endearing smile. “He looks completely ridiculous in that cloak - you know, the one with the massive hood.”
“I wouldn’t mention that; you’ll damage his self-esteem,” she jokes.
Gwen scoffs in her usual polite way. “If there’s a quality Arthur's lacking in, it’s certainly not self-esteem.”
For a horrible moment, Morgana is worried that Gwen does not understand Arthur in the least.
Then she supposes that, indeed, the two of them barely spoke before this past year or so; there is time for them yet.
-
Lancelot is embarrassed at what little he has to offer her. He apologises profusely.
Guinevere grins at him. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
“But you should have better,” he says, knowing that she used to.
“I have you,” she replies softly, and her smile would melt the heart of any sinner.
-
“I can’t believe Guinevere told you about us,” says Arthur, although Morgana wonders that he did not see this coming. He leans back in his chair and smirks.
She draws up a chair and sits opposite him by the fire. She does not have much to say to him about Gwen, which is odd - she thought she would.
“I hope you’re not jealous,” he adds when she does not respond.
Morgana looks him straight in the eye and gives him a nonchalant shrug.
“If I asked nicely, she might let me kiss her too.”
-
Guinevere has gone and Arthur is crying where he thinks no one sees. Morgana longs to go to him, to hold him close and console him, but what would she say?
That she cares?
-
“You know about my dreams,” says Morgana.
Arthur fails to hide his concern. “I heard you screaming,” he says.
“It was a very bad dream.”
Merlin is hanging around behind his shoulder and his presence dispels any gesture of affection Arthur might have given her had they been alone.
Arthur frowns briefly. “Well, keep it down next time,” he says. Realising he has been overly harsh to her, he adds: “Merlin needs his beauty sleep.”
Merlin is about to say something, but Arthur is already marching off down the corridor, so he follows with an apologetic grin.
Morgana smiles back emptily. Sometimes her visions are clear and sometimes fuzzy; sometimes she is glad of them, sometimes terrified. She attempts to piece them together and sometimes they even make sense.
This one she can hardly recall; but she remembers her sense of horror and disgust. There is the creeping, distressing feeling that it was at what she is yet to do.
-
“I know you have power and magic and strength,” says Morgana, her voice cracking. “But do you have forgiveness in your heart?”
Merlin lets her cry in his arms.
Arthur does not speak for a moment, but then she looks up from Merlin’s shoulder, her eyes soft and plaintive, and he knows he has no defence.
"Arthur," she says and Merlin is still watching her warily, as though she might break or faint or God knows what.
"I hurt," she says. "I ache in a thousand different ways. I know you do too." She is battered and sorrowful and most of all she is right. "Let's not hurt more than we have to."
He knows he should not forgive her, but he cannot help it. He pulls her against his chest and a few moments later she is shaking from tears again.
Though Morgana is crying and Merlin still looks worried and Guinevere, it seems, is gone forever, there is a bizarre hopefulness in his heart that Arthur cannot rid himself of.
-
“You shouldn’t be encouraging Merlin,” Arthur tells Morgana.
She is not even sure why he is here. She was going to practise her magic in peace in the middle of the forest, but then Arthur turned up and she pretended she was picking blackberries.
He is a little way behind her. She stops and turns to look at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said.”
“I don’t know what-”
“He keeps visiting you,” he interrupts.
“Well, it’s the company, really. You see, his master’s a bit of a prat...”
Arthur is getting irritated now. “I’m not joking, you know.”
She raises her voice to match his. “Neither am I. Greatest prat in existence!”
“Don’t be obtuse, Morgana.”
“Don’t be obnoxious, then,” she says and walks away, stuffing a berry in her mouth as if to prove a point. It is not ripe yet; it tastes far too bitter, and stains her hands for nothing.
Arthur has followed her and she hears him make a huffing sound. “It’s not going to end well.”
He seems to think he knows everything. She glares at him. “I could say the-”
She stops herself.
“What?” he asks.
“It’s none of your business,” she says instead.
“It is when it’s my manservant and my...” He waves his hands about in a failure to define her.
Suddenly she feels a heavy sympathy for him. She sighs. “There’s nothing going on. Merlin and I just want someone to talk to.”
“You could talk to me,” he says under his breath.
She pretends she did not hear him.
-
Morgana and Merlin heal Arthur’s wounds but tell him he cannot return.
"Avalon is beautiful and fair-weathered,” says Morgana. “We'll know no grief or fear or pain. No bitter wind-"
"Wait," interrupts Arthur. "You're coming with me?"
Morgana nods.
"And staying? Forever?"
Merlin nods this time and Arthur fights back a grin.
"I should have brought earplugs."
Merlin is faintly amused. Morgana tries to scowl but ends up laughing. When Arthur kisses her he could swear he can taste the sweetness of her laughter - but perhaps that is the concussion talking.
-
“You should get some sleep,” hints Morgana unsubtly. Arthur is in her chambers, melancholy from ale and unrealised love, and she would really rather he left.
“Guinevere doesn’t think we can be together,” he mumbles. “She thinks our love is doomed or something.” He pauses. “I think she might be right.”
Morgana smiles wryly.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Jealo-”
“Come on.”
Arthur leans back in the chair. “I think I’ll love her forever,” he mutters, sleepy and unguarded. “Always.”
Morgana almost laughs - but he cannot know that she has seen their future.
-
THE END
-
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Morgana, Merlin/Morgana, Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, hints of other pairings and OT3ness. (Why yes, I am greedy with my ships.)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Alternating timeline, crazy Camelot love pentagram of doom...
Spoilers: 2.02 and 2.03 just about, if you know what you’re looking for.
Word Count: ~2,600
Disclaimer: Really not mine
A/N: Written for the challenge 5 “magic” prompt at merlin_rarepair. ETA: Now with shiny banner! Made by ed_84.
-
Morgana is shaking the first time she attends a public execution. The day is warm, the air thick and heavy with sweet flowery scents.
Arthur is standing beside her. He is only a year older than she is, but she is young and this seems like a lot.
“You can look away,” he says quietly. “I won’t tease you if you do.”
She does not reply; in her faintness she is overwhelmed by the steady beat of the drum, Uther’s hand about to drop, and, more than anything, the terrible feeling that this man is innocent of all but curiosity.
Arthur grabs her hand, more for his own comfort than hers, though he would never admit it.
The axe falls.
Arthur’s grip is so tight it hurts, but she cannot tell him to let go.
-
“I have to go away,” says Morgana. “You understand.”
“I do,” says Merlin.
“I have to know who I am.”
“I know who you are. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”
She kisses his cheek softly. She would tell him that what he says is most definitely not true, but they are parting and she has no wish to argue.
-
“You’re sitting on my leg,” says Morgana. Arthur ignores her and then his mouth is covering hers again. It is pleasant that he is on top of her, because his body is warm and the castle is draughty, but she pushes him until he budges and they are both more comfortable.
He pulls his head away for a second. “Dust up my nose,” he explains and his face twitches wildly. She giggles because right now everything is funnier than it ought to be.
They are sixteen and tipsy and kissing under the stairs. They will never bring this up again; that would be tantamount to admitting they liked it.
-
Morgana leaves Camelot without saying goodbye to Arthur. He would just insist she stay - or, more likely, he would say nothing and her heart would break.
-
Gwen helps Morgana to take down her hair after an evening of celebration.
“You looked very beautiful,” she says. “I mean, you always look beautiful.”
“I wouldn’t look half as nice without your help.” Morgana smiles and shakes her head so that her hair falls down in a dark curtain.
“Arthur certainly couldn’t stop staring,” says Gwen teasingly as she starts to unfasten the dress.
Morgana snorts. “It’s a bit unfortunate there’s no one around I’d actually want to impress.”
Gwen shrugs. “Maybe Arthur just needs a chance to show you his sensitive side.”
There is a pause.
Then they both burst out laughing.
-
Arthur knows he cannot have Guinevere, cannot marry her, cannot even talk to her as an equal, but he is King now. No one should be able to tell him what he can and cannot do.
He has to propose three times.
“Will you marry me?” he asks.
Guinevere laughs. He is somewhat put out. “Oh, don’t be silly, Arthur,” she says.
“Why not? You said you loved me.” He is annoyed at how pathetic he sounds.
“And I do. But you know why not,” she says.
He tries again the next day: “I want to marry you, Guinevere.”
She takes him seriously this time. “You really do, don’t you?”
“More than anything. You have no idea.”
She looks slightly guilty. “You’re lonely,” she says.
He does not know what to say to that. “Sometimes,” he concedes.
“You have Merlin.”
“He doesn’t kiss as well as you do,” he jokes sadly.
The third time, they are running back to the castle together before anyone can notice that the King and a handmaiden are both missing.
“It’s a wonder we haven’t been caught yet.” Guinevere laughs breathlessly as they hide behind a buttress. “You’re so unsubtle.”
“Marry me?” he asks, giddy from lack of air.
“Yes,” she says and he is so surprised that he does not do anything for a second.
“I think you’re supposed to kiss me now,” says Guinevere, smiling, he assumes, at her slow realisation that she has such an influence on men.
-
“You like that Lancelot fellow, don’t you?” asks Morgana, because he is the talk of the castle.
“He’s not really my type,” says Gwen yet again.
“I think he might be mine,” says Morgana with a mischievous smile.
Gwen tries to change the subject, at least a little. “He’s very loyal to the King and to Camelot.”
“Imagine all that loyalty directed at you, how romantic!” Morgana is off in a world of her own. “And he doesn’t get all up himself, either.”
“Like Arthur, you mean.” Gwen has an irritatingly knowing smile on her face.
“I just meant, like most of the knights. I didn’t mean Arthur.”
Even Gwen can see straight through that lie. Morgana hastily tries to change the subject.
-
“Come with me,” says Lancelot, honest and hopeful. “I love you more than the stars love the night, than-”
“Shush,” says Guinevere. “I know. I wish I didn’t.”
“Do you wish I would not love you?”
She is silent.
-
“You’re cheating,” decides Arthur. They are practising their archery and although Arthur is doing well, Morgana is doing better.
She may be cheating very slightly, but it is for Arthur’s own good. He needs to learn to be gracious in defeat - and, of course, it is unspeakably satisfying to watch his face contort as he is presented with the prospect of losing.
Merlin and Gwen are watching and Merlin has probably guessed why she is winning, but fortunately for everyone he has said nothing.
“Maybe you’ll just have to accept that there are some things I’m better at,” replies Morgana.
Arthur gives a condescending snort. “There’s no way you’re better. You’re better at things like combing your hair and flouncing about the place and... and sitting around, looking pretty.”
“It’s true, I am pretty,” agrees Morgana. Arthur is taken aback for a second by what he has conceded.
“That’s not the point,” he says quickly. “The point is you’re cheating.”
“How?” she asks with a perfectly innocent expression.
“You must have tampered with my bow or maybe-” He stops as she offers her own bow to him. To take it and lose would mean complete humiliation.
“I’m not... I’ll win anyway,” he decides.
He loses.
“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” says Merlin later, though she can tell he is amused by Arthur’s comeuppance.
“No, probably not. It was fun, though. Magic doesn’t have to be frightening,” she tells him.
“You’re right,” he says cheerfully, “it doesn’t.”
She is suddenly excited by the prospects opening up to her. “There are so many things I could do, Merlin!”
He is looking at her strangely, hopefully even and then all of a sudden he kisses her on the lips.
She smiles, because it was sweet and sincere just like him, but Merlin looks startled and backs away. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to...”
She tries to reassure him. “It’s okay, Merlin, don’t worry.”
“It’s just it was so nice, so nice to have someone who...”
“Someone who...”
“Who trusts me. With a secret like that.” She can tell that was not what he was going to say.
“Well, now you can trust me with this one.”
“You won’t say anything?”
She puts her finger to her lips with a smile.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
-
Morgana is beautiful and terrifying.
Merlin tries not to show his fear, but when she speaks her voice chills him.
“I could command the seas and skies, reduce your precious castle to rubble…”
“I know,” says Merlin. “So could I.”
Morgana laughs. “Bring it on.”
-
The sun is about to set and the crops spread out before them are tinged with red.
“I have to get back to Arthur.” Merlin stands up. “Who knows what sort of mess he’s got himself into while I’ve been gone?”
“Do you have to go?” asks Morgana. She has told him about her attempts at conjuring and he seemed interested.
Merlin looks to the horizon. “Sorry. It’s getting late and I think Uther’s angling for an excuse to put me in the stocks again.” He is about to leave when Morgana speaks.
“Merlin…"
He turns to her in expectation.
"I’m scared of what I might become,” she confides suddenly. There is good magic and bad magic and she is not sure she will always be able to tell the difference.
Merlin pats her shoulder. “I’m not,” he says with a comforting grin before he wanders away.
Morgana looks about herself again, uneasy. She checked earlier that no one was watching them. But she knows all too well that there is no limit to what some can see, even with their eyes tight shut.
Merlin is halfway across the field when she finally murmurs after him:
“Maybe you should be.”
-
Morgana is at his mercy. Merlin could make sure she never hurts anyone again.
She is quiet in defeat. She juts her chin up defiantly and her neck is exposed to him, milk-white and vulnerable.
He lets her go.
-
“Did Arthur come to see you?” asks Morgana.
“Yes,” says Gwen with her shy, endearing smile. “He looks completely ridiculous in that cloak - you know, the one with the massive hood.”
“I wouldn’t mention that; you’ll damage his self-esteem,” she jokes.
Gwen scoffs in her usual polite way. “If there’s a quality Arthur's lacking in, it’s certainly not self-esteem.”
For a horrible moment, Morgana is worried that Gwen does not understand Arthur in the least.
Then she supposes that, indeed, the two of them barely spoke before this past year or so; there is time for them yet.
-
Lancelot is embarrassed at what little he has to offer her. He apologises profusely.
Guinevere grins at him. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
“But you should have better,” he says, knowing that she used to.
“I have you,” she replies softly, and her smile would melt the heart of any sinner.
-
“I can’t believe Guinevere told you about us,” says Arthur, although Morgana wonders that he did not see this coming. He leans back in his chair and smirks.
She draws up a chair and sits opposite him by the fire. She does not have much to say to him about Gwen, which is odd - she thought she would.
“I hope you’re not jealous,” he adds when she does not respond.
Morgana looks him straight in the eye and gives him a nonchalant shrug.
“If I asked nicely, she might let me kiss her too.”
-
Guinevere has gone and Arthur is crying where he thinks no one sees. Morgana longs to go to him, to hold him close and console him, but what would she say?
That she cares?
-
“You know about my dreams,” says Morgana.
Arthur fails to hide his concern. “I heard you screaming,” he says.
“It was a very bad dream.”
Merlin is hanging around behind his shoulder and his presence dispels any gesture of affection Arthur might have given her had they been alone.
Arthur frowns briefly. “Well, keep it down next time,” he says. Realising he has been overly harsh to her, he adds: “Merlin needs his beauty sleep.”
Merlin is about to say something, but Arthur is already marching off down the corridor, so he follows with an apologetic grin.
Morgana smiles back emptily. Sometimes her visions are clear and sometimes fuzzy; sometimes she is glad of them, sometimes terrified. She attempts to piece them together and sometimes they even make sense.
This one she can hardly recall; but she remembers her sense of horror and disgust. There is the creeping, distressing feeling that it was at what she is yet to do.
-
“I know you have power and magic and strength,” says Morgana, her voice cracking. “But do you have forgiveness in your heart?”
Merlin lets her cry in his arms.
Arthur does not speak for a moment, but then she looks up from Merlin’s shoulder, her eyes soft and plaintive, and he knows he has no defence.
"Arthur," she says and Merlin is still watching her warily, as though she might break or faint or God knows what.
"I hurt," she says. "I ache in a thousand different ways. I know you do too." She is battered and sorrowful and most of all she is right. "Let's not hurt more than we have to."
He knows he should not forgive her, but he cannot help it. He pulls her against his chest and a few moments later she is shaking from tears again.
Though Morgana is crying and Merlin still looks worried and Guinevere, it seems, is gone forever, there is a bizarre hopefulness in his heart that Arthur cannot rid himself of.
-
“You shouldn’t be encouraging Merlin,” Arthur tells Morgana.
She is not even sure why he is here. She was going to practise her magic in peace in the middle of the forest, but then Arthur turned up and she pretended she was picking blackberries.
He is a little way behind her. She stops and turns to look at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said.”
“I don’t know what-”
“He keeps visiting you,” he interrupts.
“Well, it’s the company, really. You see, his master’s a bit of a prat...”
Arthur is getting irritated now. “I’m not joking, you know.”
She raises her voice to match his. “Neither am I. Greatest prat in existence!”
“Don’t be obtuse, Morgana.”
“Don’t be obnoxious, then,” she says and walks away, stuffing a berry in her mouth as if to prove a point. It is not ripe yet; it tastes far too bitter, and stains her hands for nothing.
Arthur has followed her and she hears him make a huffing sound. “It’s not going to end well.”
He seems to think he knows everything. She glares at him. “I could say the-”
She stops herself.
“What?” he asks.
“It’s none of your business,” she says instead.
“It is when it’s my manservant and my...” He waves his hands about in a failure to define her.
Suddenly she feels a heavy sympathy for him. She sighs. “There’s nothing going on. Merlin and I just want someone to talk to.”
“You could talk to me,” he says under his breath.
She pretends she did not hear him.
-
Morgana and Merlin heal Arthur’s wounds but tell him he cannot return.
"Avalon is beautiful and fair-weathered,” says Morgana. “We'll know no grief or fear or pain. No bitter wind-"
"Wait," interrupts Arthur. "You're coming with me?"
Morgana nods.
"And staying? Forever?"
Merlin nods this time and Arthur fights back a grin.
"I should have brought earplugs."
Merlin is faintly amused. Morgana tries to scowl but ends up laughing. When Arthur kisses her he could swear he can taste the sweetness of her laughter - but perhaps that is the concussion talking.
-
“You should get some sleep,” hints Morgana unsubtly. Arthur is in her chambers, melancholy from ale and unrealised love, and she would really rather he left.
“Guinevere doesn’t think we can be together,” he mumbles. “She thinks our love is doomed or something.” He pauses. “I think she might be right.”
Morgana smiles wryly.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Jealo-”
“Come on.”
Arthur leans back in the chair. “I think I’ll love her forever,” he mutters, sleepy and unguarded. “Always.”
Morgana almost laughs - but he cannot know that she has seen their future.
-
THE END
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