Merlin/Morgana: The tempest
Written for merlin_ficathon , prompt "they're not gonna get us". Had great fun writing this (I love Merlin/Morgana!) and this was beta'd by the fantastic alexajohnson :)
Prompt "they're not gonna get us", Merlin/Morgana
Title The tempest
Rating PG
Genre Romance/gen
Pairing Merlin/Morgana
Supporting characters Very brief Gwen, mentions of Uther, Gaius, Arthur
Word count ~2200
Summary A magical storm tears through Camelot, leaving only one person who can stop it.
The tempest
A terrible storm sweeps through Camelot and for a week the entire court and many of the women and children of the city are locked in the castle as the King’s patience wears thin. Arthur and the Knights search desperately for an answer, but there are only so many times Gaius can be questioned and the castle searched before Arthur concedes defeat. The skies themselves seem to open as the wailing rain shatters straw roofs and turns fertile earth into a rush of mud, swallowing everything in its smothering path. Livestock, landscape, men all swallowed and drowned in earth as hail shoots from the clouds like stars, blasting holes in the ground while thunder shakes the sky. Uther rages and the courtiers quail but there is nothing to be done for no creature dares face the elements and the oppression and hostility is driving Camelot insane. There is no water apart from the poisonous torrent from the sky and no food, no light with the windows boarded and nowhere to put waste. Camelot toils in stench and grime.
It only gets worse when a deadly pestilence swarms the castle, people fall and everyone fears the death of the King or his Son. For a few treacherous days it seems that all is lost, and Morgana puts a grave face and reassures Gwen, even as she sees the life-energies of those close her fade from Sight; but no one expects it when one night the rain stops.
No one believes it when they wake up to streaming sunlight. The court and the ill are rushed outside, where the sky is the only untouched thing, glittering white clouds scattered in a brilliant expanse of blue. There is even a rainbow, an upside-down smile, pale and enchanting. The land is ravaged and torn apart, mud having filled valleys and engulfed hills, animals laying slain and rotting, trees torn up with naked roots splayed, but that was of no consequence. Arthur supervises the setting-up of tents for the homeless, Gaius sets about applying remedies to the disease, and the people are grateful, full of hope.
Morgana sweeps back through the soiled corridors towards her room, which these last few days she had shared with Gwen and three orphaned children. She has not washed or brushed her hair, her eyes are haggard from lack of sleep and her steps uneasy, but she spots Merlin’s form crouched in an alcove as surely as she spotted deaths in the living.
He shook like a leaf, curled up on himself, and when she approaches he raises eyes bright like a startled deer’s. She says his name, softly, in concern, and when he does not reply she bends down, tries to make him look at her. There is something very wrong, this present is vaguely familiar and she pins it down to a dream she had had a few months ago. She had probably paid it little heed because of a beast that Arthur had been tracking at the time.
“Merlin,” she whispers. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He doesn’t reply and Morgana continues, her own monologue. She knew just what to say, after all. “Can you stand? I can help you get to your rooms. It’s all over now, we’re safe.”
“It’s all over,” he whispers, so faintly that it leaves barely an imprint in the air.
“Yes,” says Morgana, relieved, “it’s finished, Merlin. Tell me, are you all right? Are you hungry? Gaius is outside treating the ill, but I’m sure the kitchen maids can-”
He raises his wide, shivering eyes to hers. “It’s all over,” he tells her, a soft breath on her cheek. “It’s all over.”
She strokes his cheek, trying to reassure him despite her trembling hands, and doesn’t quite manage it. “Yes, Merlin. It’s over, the storm. It’s all over-”
“I did it,” says Merlin, like he’s unable to keep it within him any longer. “I stopped the storm. I did it. I did it.” He is shaking worse than her, his lips are dry, and Morgana doesn’t know what to do.
“You stopped it?” she asks softly.
“I did it. Gaius asked me-I had to-I did it.”
“But how, Merlin?” she asks, and doesn’t want to know the answer.
“A spell. Arhosa 'r brythwch.” As he speaks gold infuses his being from the inside, his eyes first and then in currents that flood his every extremity with every beat of his heart, which, Morgana realises, is the same as her own. “I did it.”
“Yes, you did,” says Morgana, believing it all-too-soon, all-too-eagerly; had Arthur not spoken of a guardian? “Oh, Merlin, you saved us all.”
“It’s all over now,” Merlin says, and maybe it was the magic, maybe it was Morgana’s presence and her skirts splashed over his boots, but he was speaking more coherently now. “Uther saw me do it. I had to-I had to be at the centre of the castle. I put a sleeping charm on him but he broke through it-I didn’t think anyone could.”
And Morgana sees that it was not shock that had plastered his hair to his nape, that had left his fingers shaking and his eyes wide. It was fear. She strokes his heated cheek again, trying to find words for him.
“You’re a seer,” he tells her abruptly. His impending death seemed to break any last barriers left in him. “Gaius didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to be in danger-like he knew I would. He did it to protect you.”
“Silly man,” she says to lighten the tone. “So dramatic. I know how to take care of myself, Merlin.”
“I wanted to tell you. Because we-”
“Because we are the same?”
He glances at her, swallows, then averts his gaze again. “Something like that.”
“No one’s like you, Merlin.”
That draws a faint smile from him. “Yeah, I’ve been told that.”
“Listen, Merlin. Where is Uther?”
“I put him under a spell, a strong one. He thinks he’s searching for his wife. Gaius told me to do it while he takes care of the others.” He looks at her again, his eyes so full of emotion it was impossible to distinguish a particular one. “When it fades he will kill me.”
“Leave,” says Morgana. “You’re a sorcerer, you can vanish and Uther will never see you again. Disappear and you can be free.”
“I can’t,” he says glumly, and Morgana knows why; Arthur will leave today to fetch a herb to combat the plague. He will fail.
“Merlin, listen to me,” she says, and he looks at her all right, and there is everything there. “It will be all right. They won’t get you.” When he says nothing she adds, “I promise.”
“How do you know?” he asks, a little accusatory, a little heavily, with an undertone of hope that Morgana knows he doesn’t mean to be there.
“I-I saw it. Merlin, you will be safe. I saw it in my dreams.”
He frowned. “You did?”
“Yes,” she says, earnestly now that some colour was returning to his cheeks. “Of course, I dreamt it.”
“You dreamt about me?” he asks with a look that makes Morgana want to blush, though of course she had practised the habit out of her from a tender age.
“I saw you live,” she says firmly. “They’re not going to get us. We’ll be all right, Merlin. You’ll see.” He sits there dumbfounded, and she thinks it a good time to coax him to eat. No one had eaten for the last couple of days since the food became contaminated, and she reasoned that he needed his strength. For all his returning vigour the magic he had performed had obviously drained him. “Come now, let’s get you back to Gaius’ quarters and fetch you some food. I’m sure there’s a storehouse somewhere-”
She stands and Merlin stands slowly next to her; he grasps her arm to steady himself and she feels the familiar warmth within his fingers. It feels like they were rising from their problems, standing tall after an immeasurable stretch of time, the both of them old and wizened. They make their way slowly to the physician’s rooms, everyone is outside enjoying their newfound freedom. They ignore the cloying air, something that they had gotten used to, and finally manage to reach Gaius’ quarters after ten minutes. Morgana opens the door and Merlin slumps into a chair, the remains of endless research still splayed on the table.
“Right, food,” said Morgana. “Stay here, I’m going to-” She stops as a strange vibration fills the air, then realises that Merlin’s eyes had gone gold.
“Porthiant,” he murmurs, and a large vat of gruel appears on the table as a few books fall to the ground. Morgana frowns and hurries to his side.
“You can make food?” she says, eyeing the gruel. “But then the famine-the hungry people-”
“How would it look if gruel appeared overnight in everyone’s rooms?” Merlin retorted. “And I can’t make any food, only this porridge. Magic can’t make meat and wine from nothing.”
Morgana purses her lips. “You shouldn’t tax yourself. I could have gotten food from the kitchen-”
“Why are you doing this?” he asks her, ignoring his food though he has conjured it.
That throws her back. “Because-because I care for you, Merlin. I was worried about you. And now I find we are the same.”
He throws her another small smile. “Something like that.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay, Merlin,” she says, from lack of anything better to say. “You risked everything to save us, and I’m grateful.”
“I’m grateful too, for your help.” He looks down, contemplative. “I really thought it was the end. I think even Gaius thought it.”
“Well you were wrong,” says Morgana with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Even sorcerers are bound to be wrong sometimes.”
“Yeah,” agrees Merlin, his smile larger this time. Perhaps he was staring too long, because he then averted his gaze and motioned towards the gruel. “Er, want some?”
“I’ll be all right,” says Morgana. “I need to find Gwen, make sure she’s alright. You rest, I’ll keep Arthur waiting.”
He nods. “Thank you,” he says, then pauses, seems to consider. “I can help you control your dreams, if you ever need it. So you don’t need to be in danger.”
She smiles. “You can try. I think it’s something I was born with, something I can’t control. Something I can’t hide.”
“I understand,” he replies. “It’s just… if ever, it gets too much… You know you could come to me.”
She smiles. “I know. Take it easy now. I’ll see you around.”
Without leaving herself time for doubt, she bent down and placed a light kiss on Merlin’s lips. When she stood straight again he was blushing faintly, but she also felt the pull of his magic around her, asking her to stay even if he could not possibly say it.
“Bye. Be careful,” he murmurs, not quite meeting her eyes.
But as she leaves Merlin behind, kissing is the last thing on her mind. What were you thinking? She brushes that thought aside. She had to help Merlin. She had to restore faith in him. She couldn’t let him lie there, waiting for the executioner’s axe. An iron grip closed around her heart, her pulse beating fast in her throat as she made her way around the castle, searching for Gwen. What have I done? She breathed deeply, in though the nose and out through the mouth. Oh, what have I done? Merlin had saved them, and now it was up to her to save. Surely, if he was going to die she would have seen it. Was that the only reason? Did she not feel something… different for Merlin? Did she not want protection for him as much as she craved it for herself?
“My lady!” cries Gwen as she rounds a corner. “Morgana, I’ve been so worried-”
“Are you all right?” asks Morgana, her concern redirected into her maid. “Are you ill?”
“No, I’m fine,” Gwen shakes her head. “I’m worried about you. I looked for you everywhere. Arthur was worried, too, so I said I’d search.”
“I’m fine,” replies Morgana. “You shouldn’t have worried. Don’t keep Arthur waiting, I’ll be there in a moment.”
Gwen nods, gathers her skirts and leaves at once. It was truly hard, Morgana thought as she set off decisively for the throne room, to be so concerned when the sun was shining and everyone she loved were safe. No one’s going to get us. No, that part was true enough. Nothing, not even fate could creep up on Morgana, and she would do anything, everything in her power to keep things as they were.
She tries to keep her mind clear as she walks, tries to keep doubts and fears at bay. Perhaps her thoughts drift to Merlin as she walks, through these corridors that she knew like the back of her hand. Thoughts about his magic and his life but probably mostly about his lips. This storm had changed everything, outside and in, and she would be the drop that burst the dam. She hears Uther’s pacing through the thick, cold walls, calls Merlin to her for strength, and opens the doors.
As usual, comments and criticisms are <3 so please spare some time ^^ That is all!
Prompt "they're not gonna get us", Merlin/Morgana
Title The tempest
Rating PG
Genre Romance/gen
Pairing Merlin/Morgana
Supporting characters Very brief Gwen, mentions of Uther, Gaius, Arthur
Word count ~2200
Summary A magical storm tears through Camelot, leaving only one person who can stop it.
The tempest
A terrible storm sweeps through Camelot and for a week the entire court and many of the women and children of the city are locked in the castle as the King’s patience wears thin. Arthur and the Knights search desperately for an answer, but there are only so many times Gaius can be questioned and the castle searched before Arthur concedes defeat. The skies themselves seem to open as the wailing rain shatters straw roofs and turns fertile earth into a rush of mud, swallowing everything in its smothering path. Livestock, landscape, men all swallowed and drowned in earth as hail shoots from the clouds like stars, blasting holes in the ground while thunder shakes the sky. Uther rages and the courtiers quail but there is nothing to be done for no creature dares face the elements and the oppression and hostility is driving Camelot insane. There is no water apart from the poisonous torrent from the sky and no food, no light with the windows boarded and nowhere to put waste. Camelot toils in stench and grime.
It only gets worse when a deadly pestilence swarms the castle, people fall and everyone fears the death of the King or his Son. For a few treacherous days it seems that all is lost, and Morgana puts a grave face and reassures Gwen, even as she sees the life-energies of those close her fade from Sight; but no one expects it when one night the rain stops.
No one believes it when they wake up to streaming sunlight. The court and the ill are rushed outside, where the sky is the only untouched thing, glittering white clouds scattered in a brilliant expanse of blue. There is even a rainbow, an upside-down smile, pale and enchanting. The land is ravaged and torn apart, mud having filled valleys and engulfed hills, animals laying slain and rotting, trees torn up with naked roots splayed, but that was of no consequence. Arthur supervises the setting-up of tents for the homeless, Gaius sets about applying remedies to the disease, and the people are grateful, full of hope.
Morgana sweeps back through the soiled corridors towards her room, which these last few days she had shared with Gwen and three orphaned children. She has not washed or brushed her hair, her eyes are haggard from lack of sleep and her steps uneasy, but she spots Merlin’s form crouched in an alcove as surely as she spotted deaths in the living.
He shook like a leaf, curled up on himself, and when she approaches he raises eyes bright like a startled deer’s. She says his name, softly, in concern, and when he does not reply she bends down, tries to make him look at her. There is something very wrong, this present is vaguely familiar and she pins it down to a dream she had had a few months ago. She had probably paid it little heed because of a beast that Arthur had been tracking at the time.
“Merlin,” she whispers. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He doesn’t reply and Morgana continues, her own monologue. She knew just what to say, after all. “Can you stand? I can help you get to your rooms. It’s all over now, we’re safe.”
“It’s all over,” he whispers, so faintly that it leaves barely an imprint in the air.
“Yes,” says Morgana, relieved, “it’s finished, Merlin. Tell me, are you all right? Are you hungry? Gaius is outside treating the ill, but I’m sure the kitchen maids can-”
He raises his wide, shivering eyes to hers. “It’s all over,” he tells her, a soft breath on her cheek. “It’s all over.”
She strokes his cheek, trying to reassure him despite her trembling hands, and doesn’t quite manage it. “Yes, Merlin. It’s over, the storm. It’s all over-”
“I did it,” says Merlin, like he’s unable to keep it within him any longer. “I stopped the storm. I did it. I did it.” He is shaking worse than her, his lips are dry, and Morgana doesn’t know what to do.
“You stopped it?” she asks softly.
“I did it. Gaius asked me-I had to-I did it.”
“But how, Merlin?” she asks, and doesn’t want to know the answer.
“A spell. Arhosa 'r brythwch.” As he speaks gold infuses his being from the inside, his eyes first and then in currents that flood his every extremity with every beat of his heart, which, Morgana realises, is the same as her own. “I did it.”
“Yes, you did,” says Morgana, believing it all-too-soon, all-too-eagerly; had Arthur not spoken of a guardian? “Oh, Merlin, you saved us all.”
“It’s all over now,” Merlin says, and maybe it was the magic, maybe it was Morgana’s presence and her skirts splashed over his boots, but he was speaking more coherently now. “Uther saw me do it. I had to-I had to be at the centre of the castle. I put a sleeping charm on him but he broke through it-I didn’t think anyone could.”
And Morgana sees that it was not shock that had plastered his hair to his nape, that had left his fingers shaking and his eyes wide. It was fear. She strokes his heated cheek again, trying to find words for him.
“You’re a seer,” he tells her abruptly. His impending death seemed to break any last barriers left in him. “Gaius didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to be in danger-like he knew I would. He did it to protect you.”
“Silly man,” she says to lighten the tone. “So dramatic. I know how to take care of myself, Merlin.”
“I wanted to tell you. Because we-”
“Because we are the same?”
He glances at her, swallows, then averts his gaze again. “Something like that.”
“No one’s like you, Merlin.”
That draws a faint smile from him. “Yeah, I’ve been told that.”
“Listen, Merlin. Where is Uther?”
“I put him under a spell, a strong one. He thinks he’s searching for his wife. Gaius told me to do it while he takes care of the others.” He looks at her again, his eyes so full of emotion it was impossible to distinguish a particular one. “When it fades he will kill me.”
“Leave,” says Morgana. “You’re a sorcerer, you can vanish and Uther will never see you again. Disappear and you can be free.”
“I can’t,” he says glumly, and Morgana knows why; Arthur will leave today to fetch a herb to combat the plague. He will fail.
“Merlin, listen to me,” she says, and he looks at her all right, and there is everything there. “It will be all right. They won’t get you.” When he says nothing she adds, “I promise.”
“How do you know?” he asks, a little accusatory, a little heavily, with an undertone of hope that Morgana knows he doesn’t mean to be there.
“I-I saw it. Merlin, you will be safe. I saw it in my dreams.”
He frowned. “You did?”
“Yes,” she says, earnestly now that some colour was returning to his cheeks. “Of course, I dreamt it.”
“You dreamt about me?” he asks with a look that makes Morgana want to blush, though of course she had practised the habit out of her from a tender age.
“I saw you live,” she says firmly. “They’re not going to get us. We’ll be all right, Merlin. You’ll see.” He sits there dumbfounded, and she thinks it a good time to coax him to eat. No one had eaten for the last couple of days since the food became contaminated, and she reasoned that he needed his strength. For all his returning vigour the magic he had performed had obviously drained him. “Come now, let’s get you back to Gaius’ quarters and fetch you some food. I’m sure there’s a storehouse somewhere-”
She stands and Merlin stands slowly next to her; he grasps her arm to steady himself and she feels the familiar warmth within his fingers. It feels like they were rising from their problems, standing tall after an immeasurable stretch of time, the both of them old and wizened. They make their way slowly to the physician’s rooms, everyone is outside enjoying their newfound freedom. They ignore the cloying air, something that they had gotten used to, and finally manage to reach Gaius’ quarters after ten minutes. Morgana opens the door and Merlin slumps into a chair, the remains of endless research still splayed on the table.
“Right, food,” said Morgana. “Stay here, I’m going to-” She stops as a strange vibration fills the air, then realises that Merlin’s eyes had gone gold.
“Porthiant,” he murmurs, and a large vat of gruel appears on the table as a few books fall to the ground. Morgana frowns and hurries to his side.
“You can make food?” she says, eyeing the gruel. “But then the famine-the hungry people-”
“How would it look if gruel appeared overnight in everyone’s rooms?” Merlin retorted. “And I can’t make any food, only this porridge. Magic can’t make meat and wine from nothing.”
Morgana purses her lips. “You shouldn’t tax yourself. I could have gotten food from the kitchen-”
“Why are you doing this?” he asks her, ignoring his food though he has conjured it.
That throws her back. “Because-because I care for you, Merlin. I was worried about you. And now I find we are the same.”
He throws her another small smile. “Something like that.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay, Merlin,” she says, from lack of anything better to say. “You risked everything to save us, and I’m grateful.”
“I’m grateful too, for your help.” He looks down, contemplative. “I really thought it was the end. I think even Gaius thought it.”
“Well you were wrong,” says Morgana with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Even sorcerers are bound to be wrong sometimes.”
“Yeah,” agrees Merlin, his smile larger this time. Perhaps he was staring too long, because he then averted his gaze and motioned towards the gruel. “Er, want some?”
“I’ll be all right,” says Morgana. “I need to find Gwen, make sure she’s alright. You rest, I’ll keep Arthur waiting.”
He nods. “Thank you,” he says, then pauses, seems to consider. “I can help you control your dreams, if you ever need it. So you don’t need to be in danger.”
She smiles. “You can try. I think it’s something I was born with, something I can’t control. Something I can’t hide.”
“I understand,” he replies. “It’s just… if ever, it gets too much… You know you could come to me.”
She smiles. “I know. Take it easy now. I’ll see you around.”
Without leaving herself time for doubt, she bent down and placed a light kiss on Merlin’s lips. When she stood straight again he was blushing faintly, but she also felt the pull of his magic around her, asking her to stay even if he could not possibly say it.
“Bye. Be careful,” he murmurs, not quite meeting her eyes.
But as she leaves Merlin behind, kissing is the last thing on her mind. What were you thinking? She brushes that thought aside. She had to help Merlin. She had to restore faith in him. She couldn’t let him lie there, waiting for the executioner’s axe. An iron grip closed around her heart, her pulse beating fast in her throat as she made her way around the castle, searching for Gwen. What have I done? She breathed deeply, in though the nose and out through the mouth. Oh, what have I done? Merlin had saved them, and now it was up to her to save. Surely, if he was going to die she would have seen it. Was that the only reason? Did she not feel something… different for Merlin? Did she not want protection for him as much as she craved it for herself?
“My lady!” cries Gwen as she rounds a corner. “Morgana, I’ve been so worried-”
“Are you all right?” asks Morgana, her concern redirected into her maid. “Are you ill?”
“No, I’m fine,” Gwen shakes her head. “I’m worried about you. I looked for you everywhere. Arthur was worried, too, so I said I’d search.”
“I’m fine,” replies Morgana. “You shouldn’t have worried. Don’t keep Arthur waiting, I’ll be there in a moment.”
Gwen nods, gathers her skirts and leaves at once. It was truly hard, Morgana thought as she set off decisively for the throne room, to be so concerned when the sun was shining and everyone she loved were safe. No one’s going to get us. No, that part was true enough. Nothing, not even fate could creep up on Morgana, and she would do anything, everything in her power to keep things as they were.
She tries to keep her mind clear as she walks, tries to keep doubts and fears at bay. Perhaps her thoughts drift to Merlin as she walks, through these corridors that she knew like the back of her hand. Thoughts about his magic and his life but probably mostly about his lips. This storm had changed everything, outside and in, and she would be the drop that burst the dam. She hears Uther’s pacing through the thick, cold walls, calls Merlin to her for strength, and opens the doors.
As usual, comments and criticisms are <3 so please spare some time ^^ That is all!