Before the Sun Breaks Another Day -- Chapter Seventeen (cont'd)
Under the dull light of a pre-dawn sky, the courtyard was a flutter of activity, with servants bustling to and fro under Uther's stern commands. There wasn't actually that much to be done, all things considered, but everybody wanted to look busy while Uther had his eye on the proceedings, and in fairly short order, Morgana's horse was laden with the supplies for her journey to Shalott, half of which she would no doubt have absolutely no use for.
Morgana moved away from her window as the activity died down, fastening the brooch on her travelling cloak. She wasn't taking many personal possessions with her, but the room still looked emptier somehow, her presence leached out of it. She trailed her fingers along a bedpost; she would miss Camelot this time around.
It had been easy fooling Uther into thinking Merlin's forged documents were a cheery invitation from Princess Elaine for an extended visit to Shalott; after all, Morgana had done it several times over the years, cultivating friendly relations and goodwill, and making another trip there now was nothing out of the ordinary.
What hadn't been easy was convincing him to let her go without the usual cortege. Even though he believed the immediate threat posed by Morgause was gone, there was no telling what other dangers there might be, and he said as much. Through sheer persistence and no small amount of sweet-talking she'd worn him down, but even so, he was still averse to letting her leave the castle. It was a reluctance borne of love, and as overbearing and misguided as it was, she knew it was Uther's only way of showing his concern; he wasn't an affectionate man by nature, nor would his royal status publicly allow it, and over the years, fear had become its only outlet.
Understanding Uther, however, was not the same as indulging him. There were days when she loved his company, and others when every word he spoke seemed intended to stir up her anger; she had heard more than enough from him in the past few days, whether in triumph at having defeated Morgause or in bitterness that he still had yet to eradicate the world of her kind, to know that staying on at Camelot indefinitely would only lead to trouble again. As it was, she could barely stand it anymore, surrounded at every turn by Uther's twisted ideals and constrained to show impassivity at his words, or worse, to give encouragement, as his council was forced to do.
It was affirmation, Morgana told herself, that she had made the right decision in leaving. If she did not, sooner or later she would crack, and all her intentions to forge a peaceful future would end up in shards on the floor like everything her magic had destroyed in the frenzy of her nightmares.
She needed the time and tutelage for that, too. Magic was dangerous in the wrong hands, she knew, but she hadn't even had the chance to mould hers yet. But the longer she let her magic remain unfettered and uncontrolled, the higher the chances of unexpected mishaps, and the last thing she wanted was for her emotions to get the better of her again while she still had no means of trammelling her magic.
There was a light knock on her door, followed quickly by Merlin poking his head in. "Still here?"
"Should you be out of bed?" Morgana asked, her arms darting out as he came in, afraid he might topple over at any moment.
"I'm fine; I feel a lot better now," Merlin said, his cheeks reddening slightly as though embarrassed for some reason. "Er, I didn't know when you were going. I wanted to come and say goodbye."
His words slanted upwards, as if asking permission, and Morgana reached out to squeeze his hand, unutterably glad that they had made their peace with each other. Friends were hard to come by in these times, and forgiveness even more so, but she had found both in Merlin, despite everything they'd gone through. There was still a long way to go before reaching the same level of confidence and familiarity they'd once had in each other, but they were moving in the right direction, at least.
Seized by a sudden wave of sentimentality, she asked, "Come with me?"
For a moment it seemed as though he might actually consider the offer, but Merlin shook his head reluctantly. "Arthur needs me here," he said, crooking a smile. "All those dirty socks, you know. Won't wash themselves."
"He's lucky to have you."
"That's what I keep telling him," Merlin said, and stepped forward hesitantly. "You'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine. Sir Leon is accompanying me part of the way, and I've asked Gwen to stay behind to help Gaius while you're recuperating," Morgana said, "so maybe you should look poorly for a little longer; corroborate my story?"
Merlin grinned. "I will crawl back into bed at once and moan a lot."
"I'm sure Arthur will be only too happy to look after you," she said, giving him a meaningful look.
He blushed, but laughed softly. "Erm, take care of yourself, all right?"
"I will; don't worry," Morgana replied.
She gave Merlin a quick hug, and he loped out of the room, the ghost of his smile spurring her courage along. If he had managed to carve out a life for himself under Camelot's laws, all the while protecting the land and the people he loved, there was no reason she couldn't do it, too. Camelot was her home; she would come back to it before long, and with any luck, strong enough this time to face her own abilities and circumstances without fear.
Morgana stepped out into the corridor, closing her chamber doors behind her, and strode down into the courtyard, where Uther and Arthur were waiting to see her off. Uther met her with a smile, though concern was visible in his eyes.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Uther said in a low voice, not for the first -- or indeed, sixth -- time. "I can spare more guards; dozens, if you want them."
"No," Morgana said hastily. "I assure you, my lord, everything will be fine. Sir Leon will be with me, and King Bernard's men are meeting us just outside the city walls. Nothing can go wrong."
"You know I worry about you."
"I do," she said, patting his hand fondly, "but there's nothing to worry about. You trusted Sir Leon to take care of me in the castle, didn't you? His protection is more than I need."
Uther glanced sideways to where Leon was standing, clad in full mail and a thoroughly stoic demeanour.
"It's only a short journey," Morgana went on, soothing as a summer breeze, "and besides, you are king. Your people are your first priority, and you need the men for rebuilding all the places that were destroyed in the battle."
Uther nodded slowly. "Yes, you're right, of course," he said.
"My lady," said Leon, walking towards them, "it's getting light."
"Yes, we should go," Morgana said quickly, seizing her chance while Uther was still somewhat agreeable. Anxiety prickled her spine, but Uther said nothing more, pulling her into a tight embrace, and she returned it with equal warmth.
Striding forwards, Arthur offered his hand and helped her mount the horse. When she was safely astride, his mouth twisted slightly, as if he was struggling to say something. "Are you sure--" he began.
"Don't you start, too," Morgana said.
Arthur lifted his palms in surrender. "I was only going to ask if you're sure you want to see King Bernard again when he was clearly trying to thrust his idiot son at you last time you were there," he said innocently. "Though, of course, if you give him half as much hell as you give me, I'm sure he'll go off you in no time."
"Oh, please," she said from her superior perch, "you love me and you know it."
"Slander," Arthur said, grinning.
She reached down to clutch his hand for a moment, sharing his smile, and then urged her horse on before anyone could change their minds. Leon fell in beside her, and soon the castle was receding behind them, its weight on her shoulders growing smaller and smaller the more distance they covered.
There was no hurry, so they kept a slow, steady pace, talking occasionally of inconsequential matters. A gentle breeze fluttered desultorily alongside, shepherding them onwards. To the sides of the path, trees unfurled their limbs to the dawn, and a symphony of birdsong, at once consonant and discordant, reflected Morgana's inner thoughts. She knew she was doing right by herself to seek the druids' care, but every so often, as she glanced over at her companion, something would twist her heart a little, wind it just too tight for a second.
Becoming friends with Leon had been unexpected, but not unwelcome, and she knew he would always remain a trusted confidant; what romance had sprung up between them, however, was still so wild and new, and as much as she looked forward to taking leave of Camelot for the time being, there was a part of her, too, that longed to stay -- for him. He had made few overt attempts to persuade her to stay, knowing her mind, but each time their fingers laced together and their lips touched, she could feel the silent entreaty, and more than once had been tempted to give in to it.
It wasn't fair to Leon, she decided, to leave this thread knotted between them, to have him feel some obligation to her while she went away. They were friends, and that she wouldn't change for the world, but there was so much yet unexplored and unsaid between them in the matters of their hearts. The idea of pursuing something beyond friendship had barely even begun to take shape; she had no claim to his devotion and no right to ask for it while they were apart. She would think of him often, and fondly, but she wouldn't ask for it in return.
The meeting place wasn't far now, and Morgana tugged on her reins, slowing her horse to an eventual halt; seeing this, Leon did the same, but looked at her with a question in his eyes.
"We'll be there soon; do you mind if we walk the rest of the way?" she asked.
"No, of course not," Leon replied, and got off his horse quickly. He offered her his hand as she dismounted, and she kept hold of it, a warm, reassuring anchor, as they took their horse's reins and moved onwards on foot.
"Leon," she said, darting a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, "I want to thank you for being so kind. It has meant so much to me, and I wouldn't be here without you."
He tilted his head curiously at her. "You're not saying goodbye already?"
"Well, I--" Morgana faltered, the difference between what she needed and what she wanted to say pulling the words back before they could even leave her mouth. She took a breath, and forced them out. "I just thought-- I don't want you to feel like you have to be bound to me. I know I'm going away at an inopportune time, when we've--" she gestured widely, not sure how to encompass the whole of their attachment "--only just begun. If somebody else comes along..."
Leon shook his head, calm as ever, even slightly amused. "She wouldn't be able to hold a candle to you," he said. "Not even if she set the whole castle on fire."
Morgana laughed softly.
"I'm willing to wait," he said. "However long you need, Morgana; I'll still be here."
"I won't be gone long," she said, squeezing his hand as much to reassure him as to give herself something to hold on to, as she waited for the sweet swell of her heart to wane again. "A few months at most. I'll write often."
He smiled. "And I'll make sure your fake letters make it into the king's hands."
She reached up, her palm moulding to the curve of his jaw, grazing the corner of his smile with her thumb. "I really couldn't have done any of this without you. Sometimes I wonder how I could even deserve you."
"Isn't that my decision to make?"
Morgana conceded the point with a nod.
"Then I will tell you this: it is my honour to serve you, and my privilege to care for you. And I do, very much so. If you take nothing else with you from these past weeks, at least take to heart my regard for you. When you return, you will find it unchanged."
What then was there for her to do but wrap her arms around him and hold him as tightly as she could? Even pressed against his armour, Morgana felt nothing but warmed to the core, blessed beyond measure.
After that there was no need for any more words, and they continued the rest of their short journey, hands clasped, until they came near to the border of the city and a small group of men costumed in the livery of King Bernard's household stepped into view. Even in the uniforms, there was something ethereal about them that made Morgana feel at once comforted and comfortable in their presence.
"We welcome you, Morgana Le Fay," said the druid at the forefront of the group, inclining his head.
She nodded her thanks to them, and turned to Leon. He smiled softly at her, and she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed him goodbye. It was nothing searing, nothing desperate, just a simple, sweet kiss in the understanding that nothing between them would change, even through the next few months of separation.
Leon stood and watched them go as the druids guided Morgana deep into the forest, until its wild foliage obscured her from his view at last. In the canopy above, the sussuration of the wind through the trees sounded like a thousand little sighs, but with Leon's words tucked safely in her memory, Morgana released the last of her doubts to the fading wind, and walked on.
She was only one, but the castle seemed so much quieter without Morgana. This time, thankfully, it was not the quiet borne of grief, but just the curious emptiness of expecting to see someone along the corridor when there's no one there.
Then again, Merlin mused, maybe the quiet was only because Arthur wasn't reeling off a list of hundreds of things for him to do. Arthur had made himself scarce in the late afternoon, and his dinner, long gone limp and cold, would have to be slopped in with the dogs' feed soon if he didn't come back to his chambers within the next ten minutes.
Merlin sat on a chair, diligently polishing a pair of boots, letting the time pass. He knew exactly where Arthur would have gone in search of a little piece of solitude, and could picture him as he stood atop the battlements, arms folded across his chest, looking out over the rolling fields and beyond that would someday all be his. He could stay up there for hours if circumstances allowed -- if there weren't beasts to be vanquished, sorcerers to hunt down, disputes to settle, Uther's orders to bow to -- and with everything unfolding as it had in the last few days, Merlin figured that leaving him to his thoughts for a while was the best course of action.
It was plain to see that Arthur, despite any protestations to the contrary, needed some time to fully process what had transpired between them. For his part, Merlin didn't regret a thing -- possibly he would have liked for his magic to have been revealed to Arthur in a safer, more contained, more controlled manner, but there was nothing to be done about that now. And if Arthur was still a bit passively angry about Merlin constantly saving his life by throwing his own into harm's way, there wasn't anything to be done about that either. Arthur didn't know about their destiny yet, but Merlin had been privy to it for a long time now, and protecting Arthur at any cost was quite simply something he was meant to do.
But even if it wasn't, even if the threads of destiny weren't holding them together, Merlin suspected he'd have found a way to hold on to Arthur anyway. Given everything they had gone through, Merlin couldn't imagine serving anyone else, or, for that matter, loving anyone else. In the end, it wasn't up to destiny to decide the affairs of their hearts, or the course of their lives. He remembered the Great Dragon damning Morgana to darkness, condemning her for a future already written in the stars; no doubt she had come close to fulfilling his words, but when it came time, she had looked destiny in the face and, of her own accord, turned her back on it. Merlin's destiny wasn't as harsh a road as hers, and for that he was thankful; he was grateful that it had made his path tangle with Arthur's. Learning that he'd landed in Camelot for a fated purpose was what had spurred his actions in the beginning, when he didn't recognise Arthur for who he was beyond a big-headed, arrogant braggart, but in truth he didn't really need to hold on to that knowledge anymore. He didn't need destiny to tell him that Arthur was worth fighting for, worth dying for. Every beat of his heart told him that much and more.
Losing the light as the sun began its slow descent behind the hills, Merlin abandoned the boots. He picked up the laden salver from Arthur's table and trekked to the kitchen, depositing the tray there and filching something more portable to bring to Arthur.
He wound his way up a series of corkscrew stairs and found Arthur, as expected, leaning over a merlon, staring out into the distance, the fading sunlight gilding his hair. Warmth sparked in Merlin's chest.
"You missed dinner," Merlin said, coming forwards. He unwrapped a square of cloth, offering the bread and cheese he'd secreted inside.
Arthur accepted it with nodded thanks. He tore off a mouthful of bread, chewing thoughtfully, his gaze darting to Merlin more than once. "Have you ever wondered," he asked at length, "what your life might have been like if you'd never come to Camelot?"
"Can't say as I have. Why? Have you?"
"Yeah."
Merlin looked at him expectantly. It wasn't often that Arthur got philosophical, and when he did, he sometimes required a bit of urging, otherwise he'd either disappear into his thoughts again or leave off embarrassed, as if he should have been spending his time doing something more worthwhile than thinking.
"And"? Merlin prompted.
"Well, my chambers would be a lot cleaner, for a start," Arthur said, and grinned when Merlin made a groaning noise. He nudged Merlin's shoulder with affection and a bit more force than necessary. He squinted into the orange sky. "Not that it would matter, though, since without you, I guess I'd be dead. Several times over, in fact. Merlin," he said, frowning minutely, "I don't know how to repay you."
"I don't do it for payment, Arthur," Merlin said, wondering if he ought to feel insulted. "I don't want anything in return."
"Really? Because I was thinking of giving you a few days off, but if you don't want them..." Arthur smirked at the wisps of cloud scudding by.
"A few days off?" Merlin huffed. "Is that all it's worth to you?"
Arthur chuckled. "Oho, now we get to the haggling, do we? What's it worth to you?"
"I don't know. Permanent immunity from mucking out the stables, maybe."
"Done."
"Really?"
Arthur cocked his head, studying Merlin. "No, probably not."
"You, sire, are an arse. Dunno why I put up with you, really."
Arthur's lips pulled upwards, but it was barely a smile. "I don't know either, Merlin," he said, his face solemn now. "When I think of everything you've done -- and believe me, I've had plenty of time to put all the pieces together while you were on your deathbed -- when I think of all the risks you've taken... Merlin, you know the laws of Camelot as well as I do; there's no mercy. You've seen sorcerers die again and again at my father's hand. Why do you stay?"
"You already know the answer to that, Arthur."
"We do have very good cooks in the castle."
Merlin laughed, thumping Arthur's arm with a loose fist. "Shut up, Arthur; it's you. You know it's you."
"Yeah." He gave Merlin a small smile. "Are you sure it's worth it?"
"If you weren't," Merlin said, answering the question he knew Arthur had intended to ask, "I'd have left ages ago. But you are, so here I am. Here we are. And I'm not leaving, so don't bother trying to kick me out for my own good or anything. I could easily find my way back anyway; I'm what you call magic." Here he wiggled his fingers like a street performer trying to entice coins out of the crowd's purses.
Arthur frowned at the waggly hands. "I'm serious, Merlin."
"So am I."
"If my father finds out about you--"
"He won't. I've been really careful." At Arthur's glare, he amended, stiltedly, "I will be more careful in the future."
"If my father finds out about you," Arthur said again, a little more forcefully this time, and clapped a tight hand to Merlin's shoulder, "I will do everything in my power to protect you. You need to know, Merlin, that-- that you're worth it, too. And that your life is no less important than mine; I won't have you trying to throw yours away every time mine is in danger, do you understand? I won't have it."
"I can't promise that," Merlin said, and shook his head with vehemence when Arthur tried to interject. "You're the future king; without you, there can be no Albion. Greatness is your destiny, Arthur. Mine, and what I can promise, is to be at your side every step of the way as long as I live, if you'll have me."
Arthur's hand moved up from Merlin's shoulder to the side of his face; the pads of his fingers, dry and callused from years of learning to master every weapon in the armoury, drew gentle lines of friction across Merlin's cheek. Merlin leaned into the warmth of his palm. With a hushed step, Arthur drew closer and pressed his mouth to Merlin's, sealing the promise on his lips.
"Always, Merlin."
THE END