Dóchas Part 1
When Arthur’s eighteen, he notices something very odd - Morgana is up earlier than he is on Sundays. Normally, on workdays, this wouldn’t be strange at all, but on Sundays, Morgana loved nothing more than sleeping in until about 1pm. Therefore, when four Sundays pass when Morgana is up before 10am, Arthur immediately grows suspicious.
“Cad atá ag tharla?” he asks the next day when they’re on their lunch break. “Dhusaigh tu go luath inne.”
“Nothing is happening.” Morgana answered in Irish, “I just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
Growing up near the Gaeltacht area meant that Morgana and Arthur are fluent in Irish, a fact they find most useful when they want to talk about things they don’t want Uther to know about. They tell Uther they are practising for exams, and being that he can’t understand a word they are saying, he believes them.
“You, not able to sleep? Bullshit.” Arthur snorts. “You’re up to something.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you.”
“Then I’m telling you I’m up to nothing,” Morgana replies sweetly.
Arthur scowls and plots all sorts of nefarious ways to make Morgana tell him, then decides that the simplest approach is best.
“So Morgana, I noticed that you’ve been getting up early the past few Sundays, any particular reason?” He asks nonchalantly at dinner that night.
Both Uther and Morgana pause, forks halfway to their mouths, Uther looking curiously at Morgana, who glares at Arthur, before schooling her features.
“I’ve taken up jogging,” she replied demurely, then turns to Uther as she adds, “It helps me deal with extra stress and to think and question things alone.”
“Ah yes, jolly good.” Uther beams. “Healthy body, healthy mind and all that.”
He suddenly looks concerned and leans towards her, asking, “You’re not having nightmares again, are you?”
Morgana had suffered from terrible nightmares when she had first stayed with Uther and Arthur, and Arthur shudders still at the memories of her terrified screams.
“Oh heavens no,” Morgana says reassuringly, patting Uther’s hand. “Don’t worry; I just fancy a bit of exercise.”
“Very well then.” Uther nods, giving her hand a squeeze before getting back to dinner.
Morgana shoots Arthur a smug look, which only serves to fuel Arthur’s desire to know just what is going on.
Said desire is exactly what causes him to find himself, crouching in bed at 7am next Sunday, listening to Morgana bustling about her room and the kitchen. At 7.30, Arthur hears the front door open and close, and peaks out his window to see Morgana tottering down the road in a skirt suit and heels.
“I KNEW she wasn’t going jogging,” he mutters to himself triumphantly.
As tempted as he is to follow her, Arthur knows that she’ll spot him immediately, and so goes about getting himself breakfast and eating it while watching the television, waiting. At 8.30, the front door opens, and Arthur stands as Morgana creeps into the living room.
“You forgot something,” he drawls, holding up a pair of her runners.
Morgana freezes, eyes staring in shock at him, and Arthur can see the cogs going ‘tick-tick-tick,’ trying to think of an escape. Not wanting to let her think of one, Arthur quickly continues talking.
“Though I can’t really figure out how one can go jogging in a skirt and heels. Perhaps Uther would be able to help us ou-”
“All right all right!” Morgana hisses, grabbing Arthur’s wrist in a painful grip and dragging him into her room.
Once in, she lets go and starts pacing up and down, eyes darting about frantically, while Arthur lounges on her bed with an air of smug superiority.
“Come on, out with it,” he says gloatingly. “What are you up to? I bet it’s bad if you’re hiding it from Uther.”
“I… I…”
Morgana’s mouth works silently a few moments more before she snaps it shut and sighs uneasily.
“Well go on then-”
“I’m going to mass.”
“You’re… WHAT?”
“I’ve been going to mass the past few Sundays.”
“But… but you don’t believe in - in ANY of it!”
“I know!” Morgana cries, then softens her voice as she adds, “At least, I didn’t…I don’t know, it’s kind of… nice to start learning to have faith.”
Arthur stares at her, his mind absolutely boggled. This is Morgana - sure, she’s uptight, prim, and proper at times, but she’s always had a bigger vendetta against God than he did!
“How did this happen?”
“I made some new friends at the night course I’m doing. Two of them, Gwen and Lance, are really involved in the Church,” Morgana replies. “At first, I didn’t want to hear about it, but then…they always seem so happy and lively, and passionate about everything, and when I asked them why, they told me it’s because they believe that God gave them something precious, and they want to make the most of it. It’s like their faith made them better people. I got curious and decided to go to mass with them.”
“W-… what’s it like?” Arthur asks hesitantly.
“It was very strange at first, but now… it’s comforting, and reassuring. There’s a great feeling of togetherness, and you can talk to anyone, and the priest, Father Gaius, is always there for questions on faith and belief.”
Morgana turns her gaze to Arthur, and he flinches at the open, honest look on her face.
“You should come with me next week,” she says earnestly. “I think you’d like it.”
Arthur doesn’t know who this person in front of him is, doesn’t know where his biting, angry, sarcastic Morgana is, and all he wants is to get away.
“No.” He spits out. “Absolutely not.”
He jumps off the bed and edges around the room until he reaches the door.
“But Arthur, I think it could help y-”
“Stop it!” Arthur snaps. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Morgana’s face falls and she turns her back on Arthur, who tries not to wince at the hurt look on her face. Instead, he opens the door and turns to leave.
“Will you tell Uther?” Morgana asks softly.
Arthur pauses, then answers, “No. But you just keep this to yourself.”
“Okay.”
Over the next few weeks, Arthur barely speaks two words to Morgana, who likewise returns the favours. He feels angry, distrustful, and most of all, betrayed. Morgana was his peer, his confidant, his ally in the war against religion, and now she’s crossed over to the other side. Arthur has never felt more alone. He wants to ignore her, shut her out, but he finds himself unable to, and soon enough, he can’t help but notice a subtle, but definite change in Morgana. She’s relaxed, almost peaceful, and smiles more often. She still bickers with him and fights with Uther, but it isn’t half as much as usual. It suddenly hits Arthur: she’s happy. Not in a “sunshine, skipping through daisy fields with puppies,” happy, but a deep, down-to-her-soul contentment.
He wonders what it must feels like to be that content with oneself, and these thoughts turn to curiosity about faith, and how it seems to fill people up with joy. Uther taught him long ago that to have faith in anything was to blind yourself to its possible dangers, but Arthur thinks that perhaps … he’s wrong.
Eventually, Arthur’s curiosity gets the better of him, and he waits in the sitting room one Sunday morning, dressed in trousers and a shirt.
“Okay, I want in,” he says, as she walks into the room.
Morgana regards him strangely, before she nods and asks, “What made you change your mind?”
“You,” Arthur replies. “You’re all happy and… stuff. I want to see what the big deal is.”
Morgana considers this, then nods and head out of the front door, Arthur following. They walk to the church in silence, Arthur feeling a strange pull and tightening in his chest as the large grey building looms ahead. As they approach the gate, Morgana stops and takes Arthur’s hand.
Giving it a squeeze, she smiles at him and says gratefully, “Thank you.”
Arthur nods in acknowledgement, and then follows her into the church. It’s dim and cool inside, and perfumed smoke tickles the back of Arthur’s throat. There are people scattered about the church, sitting on or kneeling at, long wooden benches, and up the top of the room, Arthur can see small boys and girls in robes arranging things on a large marble table, behind which is a golden box, and a giant statue of a man in a loincloth nailed to a cross. Arthur makes a small face at this, and turns his head away, concentrating on Morgana’s back as she makes her way over to the side of the room.
They take a seat beside a very attractive couple: a woman with caramel skin, dark curly hair and large brown eyes, and a man with slightly lighter skin, shoulder-length black hair and equally soulful brown eyes.
Morgana hugs both of them, and then gestures towards Arthur as she says, “Gwen, Lance, this is Arthur. Arthur, these are my friends Gwen and Lance.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Arthur says, plastering a smile on his face as he shakes both their hands.
“And you.” Lance smiles in return.
“We’re so glad you could come Arthur, Morgana’s told us so much about you,” Gwen enthuses.
“Nothing bad I hope.” Arthur jokes nervously.
“Oh no. Well, she told us you don’t believe in a kind God… Not that that’s a bad thing! Just, um, different, but different can be good!”
Arthur genuinely laughs at Gwen’s babbling, and holds a hand up entreatingly.
“It’s perfectly fine Gwen,” he says warmly. “I know my beliefs seem strange; but I’m open to see what else is out there.”
Gwen blushes and smiles. She, Lance and Morgana start talking, something about a RCIA, so Arthur tunes them out in favour of looking around the church. The walls are bare, and the windows are stained glass, depicting pictures of people with soft features and benign expressions. Up above him, and organ starts to play, and he can hear sounds of a choir warming up. As he looks around, Arthur notices people glancing at him suspiciously, most surreptitiously, some openly. He shifts in his seat, feeling uncomfortable and unwelcome, though he reasons that he deserves the looks after how he’s acted through the years. He tries to smile winningly at them, but they just give him dark looks back.
Shrugging, Arthur looks up front, trying to quell the nervous fluttering in his stomach. All of a sudden, the organ booms out a tune, and everyone stands as the choir starts to sing. Arthur follows suit, looking about himself curiously, until a door at the top of the church opens, and a few people walk out: two boys and a girls in white robes, followed by two men - one, an old man in white and red robes, the other, a young man in a suit. They three children and young man take a seat at the side of the altar while the old man stands behind it.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest begins, his right hand touching his forehead, chest, left and then right shoulder, before clasping it with his left.
“Good morning everyone,” he says, smiling down at the congregation.
“Good morning father,” the crowd murmurs back.
Arthur awkwardly tries to copy along with everyone else, but his interest is mostly focused on the young man at the side of the room. He can’t help but wonder who he is and why he’s up there.
As if hearing his thoughts, the priest continues, saying, “Before we begin the service, I’d like to introduce Merlin Emrys, a new trainee from the seminary in the next diocese.”
The priest gestures to the man, who stands and walks over beside him, his posture perfect and confident.
“Thank you Father Gaius.” Merlin smiles at the priest, and then turns that blinding grin to the congregation. “Hello everyone, I would like to say thank you for accepting me into your community, and I look forward to getting to know you all. This is my first parish since I started in the seminary four years ago, I’m glad I will be able to complete my final year here. Thank you.”
Merlin nods, smiles at Father Gaius and walks back to where he had been sitting.
“Okay, let’s begin with the opening prayer,” Father Gaius instructs. “I pray to God for guidance…”
Arthur stumbles through the service, his thoughts too scattered to pay close attention. He did admit, if only to himself, that Morgana was right about it being relaxing; the songs were gentle and calming, and the prayers rhythmic and soothing. However, his mind was mostly elsewhere, focused on Merlin, who was watching the mass with rapt attention, a soft smile on his lips. Arthur can’t help but stare, trying to figure out why someone so young would want to throw their life away like this. As he puzzles over Merlin’s questionable state of mind, Arthur soon realises that his curious gaze has shifted into something a little softer, a little more wondering. It lingers on the nape of his neck, where his hair curls softly, the curve of his rather large, but nibbleable ears, his sharp cheekbones which accentuate his soft mouth and large Bambi-like eyes. Honestly, the various different parts that make Merlin up should not work together, they really shouldn’t. But they did, and though Arthur realises he should most definitely NOT be checking out someone so tightly bound to religion, there’s something about Merlin that just draws him in, makes him want to stare, and let his mind wander, imagine…
He’s snapped out of his reverie by the thunderous sound of the organ and everyone rising to their feet, Merlin included. Arthur blinks and stands, turning to Morgana, who watches him with an odd look in her eye.
“So, what did you think?” She asks him innocently.
“Oh, um… It was interesting,” Arthur mumbles. “Very relaxing, with the em, chants and whatnot.”
“Really?” Morgana arches a brow. “I’m surprised you noticed anything given you spent the entire service staring at that trainee priest, what’s his name, Marvin?”
“Merlin,” Arthur replies automatically, cursing himself when Morgana’s eyes light up and she smirks.
“Oh yes, Merlin.” She corrects herself in a delighted tone.
She smiles all too knowingly at him, and he hurries to defend himself.
“I just can’t understand why someone would want to throw their life away like that.”
Morgana bursts out laughing and replies, “Oh yes, I’m sure that’s exactly why you were staring at him like he was a piece of meat.”
Arthur fights valiantly to keep from blushing, but is thwarted in the end.
He had come bursting out of the closet when he was sixteen, not because of raging hormones and a need to rebel, or because he was in the midst of a red-hot affair with a forbidden man, but because he’d had a dream. It had been a rather erotic dream, involving himself and a faceless male figure, doing all sorts of things that Arthur hadn’t even known people could do. He’d woken up hard and flushed, and after a wank and some serious thought, he’d simply said, “Oh,” and had promptly gone downstairs to tell Uther and Morgana, because if there was one thing Arthur prided himself on, it was his honesty. Uther and Morgana had been delighted; Uther because homosexuality was against nearly every type of religion, and Morgana because she could take him shopping and guy watching, and could prance about him in her underwear just to piss him off. She claimed she didn’t care who saw, but oddly enough, she never did this when Uther was around, and Arthur enjoyed the times when she would squeak and go bright red before running into her room when she heard him coming in the house. One thing though, that Morgana had never gotten to do was tease Arthur about having a crush, because thus far, Arthur had never had a crush on anyone. This naturally had lead to Morgana questioning his sexuality several times over the past two years.
“I don’t need to have a crush on a man to reaffirm my sexuality,” he tells her every time. “I know who I am.”
It isn’t that Arthur is fussy or blind or anything, he does notice other men - Mr. Rathbourne, his woodwork teacher, made lessons more than interesting, and out of his friends (who, thankfully had been very open and accepting at his revelation), Gawain and Pell are fairly easy on the eyes. So while he does notice attractive men, he’s always been very careful and subtle about it… Until now that is, because Merlin is unlike any other person Arthur has come across before.
Morgana eyes Arthur with radiant delight, and starts to outright cackle. Arthur rolls his eyes and walks away from Morgana, and Gwen and Lance, who are looking at them curiously.
“What’s wrong?” Gwen asks Morgana.
“Oh nothing.” Morgana smirks. “Arthur finally has a crush, and I have teasing and gloating material for the next several months if I’m lucky.”
“Oh! Who’s it on?” Gwen asks, probably more exited on Arthur’s behalf than for the gossip and teasing factor, Morgana thinks fondly.
“It’s on Merlin.” She replies triumphantly.
Her good mood fades slightly at the shocked looks on her friends’ faces.
“Merlin?” Lance asks quietly.
“Yes,” Morgana replies matter-of-factly. “Merlin. Who’s not a bad looking guy you know.”
“Oh no, of course he’s not,” Gwen replies, flustered. “So um, Arthur is…”
“Gay,” Morgana says bluntly. “Is there a problem?”
Morgana loves Gwen and Lance to absolute death, they’re her best friends, but she knows that she wouldn’t hesitate to run them through if it meant defending Arthur. Arthur and Uther are her family, and while she has never considered Uther her father (he’s something else entirely, something unknown and terrifying and exhilarating all at once), Arthur, to all intents and purposes, is her little brother, and she is fiercely loyal to him.
“Oh no, no problem at all,” Gwen stammers. “It’s just a bit of a shock is all, because well, Arthur doesn’t look very… anyway, never mind, after all, to thine own self be true. And besides! Jesus would never be happy with us, and doesn’t it say, let he who is without sin cast the first stone?”
“What Gwen means is that Jesus told us to love and respect one another, and put no stipulations on it.” Lance explains.
Gwen smiles gratefully up at him, and then suddenly looks concerned.
“Arthur wouldn’t um, try anything, would he?” She asks hesitantly.
“Oh goodness no!” Morgana laughs. “Arthur might fancy Merlin, but right now his main thought concerning him is that he’s either mental, or a total eejit for wanting to devote himself to a religious order.”
“Ah.” Gwen nods, and then adds, “And speaking of which, I’ve got to go, I’ve been assigned as Merlin’s guidance counsellor through his final year.”
“She was chosen ahead of anyone else.” Lance adds proudly.
Gwen flushes prettily, beaming, and Morgana hugs her, saying, “That’s brilliant Gwen! We should go out to celebrate - lunch tomorrow? My treat.”
“You don’t make enough money to buy me lunch.” Gwen laughs, not unkindly. “You could though, if you used your degree to get a better job - you’re overqualified for the bookshop.”
“Uther needs me,” Morgana replies loftily, “and besides, I get the hours and holidays I want.”
“Sure, that’s the reason you stay - the holidays.” Gwen sighs, shaking her head, while Lance smothers a laugh with a cough.
Morgana sends them a LOOK, then sighs and says, “Anyway, must be off, before Arthur storms home without me and wakes Uther up. Good luck with your counselling.”
“Thanks.” Gwen smiles. “We’ll see you on Monday eh?”
“Sure thing.”
Morgana hugs them both, and then leaves the church, following Arthur, who she sees walking slowly away.
“So, are you coming back next weekend?” She asks, once she’s caught up with him.
Arthur’s silent for the next few minutes, and Morgana waits patiently, walking beside him.
“I suppose it would be unfair not to give it a fair shot,” Arthur eventually answers.
“Glad to hear it.” Morgana smiles. “Come on, let’s get home before Uther gets up.”
*****
Merlin’s talking to angels when Father Gaius finds him. Well, ‘talking’ is an exaggeration - it’s more like he’s reaching out to them, and feels their warmth and love in response. He had been feeling people staring at him all through mass, and had escaped to the priest’s garden to sit and meditate and lose himself in unconditional love. It’s something he’s always been able to do - his mother had discovered it when he was two: she had walked into his room, and had screamed at the sight of her son surrounded by large, floating, glowing white creatures. As he grew, Hunith simply had become used to seeing them, and when Merlin was old enough, he had told her that they were angels sent by God, and he knew in his heart that he would devote his life to him, in one way or another.
Father Gaius rounds the corner of the church, to where the garden is, and stops short at the sight of his new student, sitting cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by floating white beings.
“What the-”
He stops himself, because he knows “devil,” is entirely the wrong word to use in this situation, but he needn’t have continued - at the first noise, Merlin is up, bright red, and trying to explain himself.
“Father Gaius!” He stutters. “I can, um, I can explain.”
Father Gaius raises a brow and says, “I should hope so. Come my boy, let us go for a walk, and you can explain.”
He doesn’t wait, simply starts walking into the heart of the garden, and Merlin quickly catches up, his long strides slowing and shortening to match those of his mentor’s. They walk in silence for a while, before Merlin begins to explain about the angels, and God’s love and everything he’s known all his life.
“I see,” Father Gaius says, once he’s finished. “Is there anyone else who knows about your… ability?”
“My mother,” Merlin replies, “and Will, an old friend and my first counsellor.”
Father Gaius hums and nods, mulling over all this new information.
Eventually, he turns to Merlin and says, “Perhaps it is best if you don’t tell anyone about this - people can be very superstitious and mistrusting.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it.” Merlin assures him.
“Good.” Father Gaius nods. “Anyway, it’s time for you to meet your new councillor.”
Father Gaius leads Merlin back to the church, and into the sacristy, where a woman, around Merlin’s age, maybe older, stands washing some sacred vessels in the sacrarium.
“Gwen my dear, you don’t need to worry about that,” Father Gaius calls out.
The woman jumps and spins around, cheeks flushed.
“Father Gaius!” She stutters. “I was just helping, not that I don’t think you can do it yourself, you’re more than capable, but you’ve got two more masses and they can be tiring…”
“It’s quite all right dear.” Father Gaius smiles fondly, raising a hand. “Why don’t you come over here and meet Merlin.”
“Oh! Hello.” Gwen smiles, stepping forward and offering her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Merlin smiles back, shaking her hand, and feeling comfortable in her presence already.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Father Gaius says, stepping away. “Don’t forget - mass is in five minutes.”
“I’ll be there,” Merlin tells him, then takes a seat on the couch beside Gwen.
“I won’t keep you long.” Gwen assures him. “I just want to sort out when you’ll be available for our weekly meetings.”
“Oh, yes, um, is Tuesday all right?”
Gwen pulls a black organiser out of her bag and flips it open. She studies her schedule, then smiles and says, “Yes that’s perfect, say 5 o’clock?”
“Great.”
Merlin and Gwen chat for a few minutes more, Merlin telling her about moving from Armagh to go to a seminary in Sligo, and Gwen telling him about the town; who attends mass on a regular basis, when different events were on, and where he could get the best tea and cake. Eventually, they hear the sounds of the organ warming up, and stand to say goodbye.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday yeah? And don’t forget to try out Moira’s,” Gwen tells him, giving him and quick hug.
“I won’t,” Merlin replies. “Have a good day.”
Gwen exits out the back door, and Merlin goes to find Gaius and prepare for mass.
*****
(part 2)