seven days, merlin/morgana.
i.
the last thing merlin sees before the earth disappears from underneath his feet is the sight of arthur's furious blue eyes, mouth lightning-quick as he shouts merlin, no! - and then it is blackness and whiteness and pain all over, his body feeling like it is moving into every possible direction all at once.
when he opens his eyes again, his mouth tastes of snow, and he can see his breath rise like pale smoke into the december air.
morgana is sitting down already, in front of a fire that has no business surviving in the icy wildnerness. she is tending the flames with her hands, swirling them absently so that they cast a soft golden light on the planes of her face, only merlin thinks she looks anything but warm.
"morgana," he says, after he catches his breath. she doesn't bother looking over. "morgana, i'm sorry. i was going to tell you, i just..."
he realizes dimly he is freezing, that there is frost inside his ears. all of it hardly seems to matter.
"you lied me to me," morgana says after a few moments, waving her hand so that the flames leap higher. she refuses to look at him, still.
"i didn't tell arthur either," merlin says miserably, and thinks about arthur resting back in camelot - back home - rough thumbs caressing the handles of silver swords, cracked lips pursued in hurt and betrayal. "you know why. you know what uther does to people like me - people like us," he corrects himself. "the only person who knew was gaius and that was because my mum wrote him about it. it was why i came to camelot in the first place."
"i hate gaius," is all morgana says in reply. merlin can't even remember the last time she said anything with such conviction, and morgana is hardly measly-mouthed to begin with. "i hate gaius, and i hate you too."
they don't speak any more that night.
ii.
surprisingly enough, morgana is still there when merlin wakes up the next morning, most likely because she has no other choice. morgana can be stubborn, but she is not stupid, and though merlin is fairly certain she hates the sight of him at the moment, he is even more certain that she would rather do what it takes to survive.
she doesn't look the same as before, merlin thinks. he is watching her now, admiring the simple beauty of her sleeping face, her dark curly hair, and it makes him think back to the first time he saw her. she had been full of colour and laughter then, ruby red lips curled in elegant laughter and tiny waist encased brightly-coloured gowns with the swishing skirts to flirt in. this is not the same morgana as before; even sleeping, merlin does not think she looks as peaceful the way sleeping people often do.
now she is skinnier than she used to be, and most of the pigment has drained from her face - yet merlin thinks he can see her more vividly than ever, perhaps because her mouth is only a few inches away from his.
"i always knew you were only playing the fool," morgana tells him later that day, and at any other time or place it might have been a compliment. "i sensed it from the very beginning."
"i never lied about anything other than my magic," merlin pleads.
morgana shakes her head. "and mine," she adds, and then goes to hunt for something to eat because it has been more than a day since they have last eaten, and they both are starving.
iii.
on the third day, morgana asks: "so what do you suppose they'll do with us when they find us?"
merlin shakes his head, tries to ignore the fatigue wearing down his bones because it is too cold and they are moving far more slowly than they ought to. "they won't."
"you don't believe that uther will use every last tool at his disposal to hunt us down?"
"i do," merlin replies. "i just don't believe that it would be enough."
morgana is silent for a moment. merlin thinks she sounds tired, too; she cannot be used to walking this way. he has seen her very expertly wield a sword and ride a horse, certainly, but as a member of the nobility merlin is fairly certain she has never had to walk long distances like this.
"what about arthur, then?"
"what about him?"
merlin tries not to betray the lump that grows in his throat at the mention of his former master. he has thought of nothing but arthur in the past two days, wondered about nothing but whether arthur might hate him so much now that merlin will never be allowed to return to camelot and fulfill his destiny. it is not the kind of thought that serves as a good traveling companion on a bitter and arduous journey.
"how long do you think," morgana says, and this time her voice is very low - "how do you think it'll take arthur to realize where we're going?"
"by the time arthur gets to the druids," merlin replies immediately, because he has thought of this too, "we'll be long gone."
it is the first time morgana has smiled at him for three days. merlin thinks the air around them gets a little less cold as a result.
iv.
on the fourth day they are almost friends again, if only because being enemies makes it even more difficult to trek through the freezing snowbanks, to live on measly morsels of badly-cooked fish (neither of them being particularly skilled chefs) and learn how to forget camelot for the time being.
"watch this," merlin tells her when they are in front of a fire again, though this time merlin is the one keeping it alive because morgana's magic is starting to weaken after four days of this. the flames in front of them burn brighter, dance into the skies until they form shapes of winged dragons and gallant knights alike. merlin has been putting on puppet shows like this for himself since he was a little boy. it is the first time since will that he has actually had an audience.
when merlin is finally finished, morgana looks at him in quiet awe. "teach me," she says, and grabs his wrist when she senses his hesitation. there is too much desperation in her eyes for merlin not to realize she is talking about more than just carving shapes into the fire.
"okay," he says finally, and is surprised when she only squeezes tighter.
v.
on the fifth, morgana kisses him for the first time and merlin is not sure what it means.
"it seemed like the right thing to do at the time," she will explain to him one day. "back then, i thought it would be you and me from that point forward. i thought you would be as lonely as i am," she will say, and then her lips will curve into a mocking smile. "but it looks like i was wrong."
but it is not the future yet, so on the fifth day merlin enjoys the feeling of morgana's mouth against his own, warm and supple and far more eager than he would ever have anticipated.
vi.
six days since their escape from camelot, morgana wakes up screaming from her first nightmare.
"you have to tell me what you saw," merlin begs her again and again. he is no soothsayer, no prophet, but he is savvy enough to know that whatever a nightmare of such magnitude - and from a seer, no less - might entail is certainly worth discussion.
she does not shake him off while he rubs her shoulders, she does not look away when he steadies her stricken gaze with a firm one of his own, but she does not tell him, either.
"i don't remember," she is what she says instead.
"was arthur in it?" merlin asks, because he cannot help himself, and something in morgana's face changes - becomes almost violent and feral as she wrestles herself out of his grasp.
"it's always about arthur isn't it," she says, not without disdain. it isn't a question.
"he is my destiny," merlin tries to explain.
"he is your choice," replies morgana. "he is your destiny because you choose him to be."
that night, merlin has nightmares of his own.
vii.
on the seventh day, they reach the druids, fingers and lips turned from pink and warm to blue and bitten, and merlin has genuinely entertained the thought of simply giving up nearly three times by now. he is far too exhausted to enter the druids' territory with any sort of strength or resolve, but morgana squares her shoulders and raises her chin as though there were a glittering crown on her head already. merlin thinks it is times like these she reminds him of arthur most.
"we have been expecting you," the druid at the entrance says when he sees them. there is no joy in his voice but no malice either, only a type of well-practiced resignation, and merlin remembers the last time they went to the druids for help. the druids will not hold it against them - or rather, they can not, a fact merlin is all too aware of. somehow, it makes him sad, even though it is the only thing enabling morgana and himself to find shelter and sanctuary at the moment.
he thinks this sadness must show on his face because morgana looks over and slips his hand into her own, squeezing tightly as another two druids arrive to usher them in.
"don't worry, merlin," she whispers against his jaw before pecking it lightly, leaving the ghost of a kiss upon the stubble. "everything is going to be all right."
"okay," merlin replies, and remembers that once upon a time, he too, lied for her benefit.
this is just like that.
the last thing merlin sees before the earth disappears from underneath his feet is the sight of arthur's furious blue eyes, mouth lightning-quick as he shouts merlin, no! - and then it is blackness and whiteness and pain all over, his body feeling like it is moving into every possible direction all at once.
when he opens his eyes again, his mouth tastes of snow, and he can see his breath rise like pale smoke into the december air.
morgana is sitting down already, in front of a fire that has no business surviving in the icy wildnerness. she is tending the flames with her hands, swirling them absently so that they cast a soft golden light on the planes of her face, only merlin thinks she looks anything but warm.
"morgana," he says, after he catches his breath. she doesn't bother looking over. "morgana, i'm sorry. i was going to tell you, i just..."
he realizes dimly he is freezing, that there is frost inside his ears. all of it hardly seems to matter.
"you lied me to me," morgana says after a few moments, waving her hand so that the flames leap higher. she refuses to look at him, still.
"i didn't tell arthur either," merlin says miserably, and thinks about arthur resting back in camelot - back home - rough thumbs caressing the handles of silver swords, cracked lips pursued in hurt and betrayal. "you know why. you know what uther does to people like me - people like us," he corrects himself. "the only person who knew was gaius and that was because my mum wrote him about it. it was why i came to camelot in the first place."
"i hate gaius," is all morgana says in reply. merlin can't even remember the last time she said anything with such conviction, and morgana is hardly measly-mouthed to begin with. "i hate gaius, and i hate you too."
they don't speak any more that night.
ii.
surprisingly enough, morgana is still there when merlin wakes up the next morning, most likely because she has no other choice. morgana can be stubborn, but she is not stupid, and though merlin is fairly certain she hates the sight of him at the moment, he is even more certain that she would rather do what it takes to survive.
she doesn't look the same as before, merlin thinks. he is watching her now, admiring the simple beauty of her sleeping face, her dark curly hair, and it makes him think back to the first time he saw her. she had been full of colour and laughter then, ruby red lips curled in elegant laughter and tiny waist encased brightly-coloured gowns with the swishing skirts to flirt in. this is not the same morgana as before; even sleeping, merlin does not think she looks as peaceful the way sleeping people often do.
now she is skinnier than she used to be, and most of the pigment has drained from her face - yet merlin thinks he can see her more vividly than ever, perhaps because her mouth is only a few inches away from his.
"i always knew you were only playing the fool," morgana tells him later that day, and at any other time or place it might have been a compliment. "i sensed it from the very beginning."
"i never lied about anything other than my magic," merlin pleads.
morgana shakes her head. "and mine," she adds, and then goes to hunt for something to eat because it has been more than a day since they have last eaten, and they both are starving.
iii.
on the third day, morgana asks: "so what do you suppose they'll do with us when they find us?"
merlin shakes his head, tries to ignore the fatigue wearing down his bones because it is too cold and they are moving far more slowly than they ought to. "they won't."
"you don't believe that uther will use every last tool at his disposal to hunt us down?"
"i do," merlin replies. "i just don't believe that it would be enough."
morgana is silent for a moment. merlin thinks she sounds tired, too; she cannot be used to walking this way. he has seen her very expertly wield a sword and ride a horse, certainly, but as a member of the nobility merlin is fairly certain she has never had to walk long distances like this.
"what about arthur, then?"
"what about him?"
merlin tries not to betray the lump that grows in his throat at the mention of his former master. he has thought of nothing but arthur in the past two days, wondered about nothing but whether arthur might hate him so much now that merlin will never be allowed to return to camelot and fulfill his destiny. it is not the kind of thought that serves as a good traveling companion on a bitter and arduous journey.
"how long do you think," morgana says, and this time her voice is very low - "how do you think it'll take arthur to realize where we're going?"
"by the time arthur gets to the druids," merlin replies immediately, because he has thought of this too, "we'll be long gone."
it is the first time morgana has smiled at him for three days. merlin thinks the air around them gets a little less cold as a result.
iv.
on the fourth day they are almost friends again, if only because being enemies makes it even more difficult to trek through the freezing snowbanks, to live on measly morsels of badly-cooked fish (neither of them being particularly skilled chefs) and learn how to forget camelot for the time being.
"watch this," merlin tells her when they are in front of a fire again, though this time merlin is the one keeping it alive because morgana's magic is starting to weaken after four days of this. the flames in front of them burn brighter, dance into the skies until they form shapes of winged dragons and gallant knights alike. merlin has been putting on puppet shows like this for himself since he was a little boy. it is the first time since will that he has actually had an audience.
when merlin is finally finished, morgana looks at him in quiet awe. "teach me," she says, and grabs his wrist when she senses his hesitation. there is too much desperation in her eyes for merlin not to realize she is talking about more than just carving shapes into the fire.
"okay," he says finally, and is surprised when she only squeezes tighter.
v.
on the fifth, morgana kisses him for the first time and merlin is not sure what it means.
"it seemed like the right thing to do at the time," she will explain to him one day. "back then, i thought it would be you and me from that point forward. i thought you would be as lonely as i am," she will say, and then her lips will curve into a mocking smile. "but it looks like i was wrong."
but it is not the future yet, so on the fifth day merlin enjoys the feeling of morgana's mouth against his own, warm and supple and far more eager than he would ever have anticipated.
vi.
six days since their escape from camelot, morgana wakes up screaming from her first nightmare.
"you have to tell me what you saw," merlin begs her again and again. he is no soothsayer, no prophet, but he is savvy enough to know that whatever a nightmare of such magnitude - and from a seer, no less - might entail is certainly worth discussion.
she does not shake him off while he rubs her shoulders, she does not look away when he steadies her stricken gaze with a firm one of his own, but she does not tell him, either.
"i don't remember," she is what she says instead.
"was arthur in it?" merlin asks, because he cannot help himself, and something in morgana's face changes - becomes almost violent and feral as she wrestles herself out of his grasp.
"it's always about arthur isn't it," she says, not without disdain. it isn't a question.
"he is my destiny," merlin tries to explain.
"he is your choice," replies morgana. "he is your destiny because you choose him to be."
that night, merlin has nightmares of his own.
vii.
on the seventh day, they reach the druids, fingers and lips turned from pink and warm to blue and bitten, and merlin has genuinely entertained the thought of simply giving up nearly three times by now. he is far too exhausted to enter the druids' territory with any sort of strength or resolve, but morgana squares her shoulders and raises her chin as though there were a glittering crown on her head already. merlin thinks it is times like these she reminds him of arthur most.
"we have been expecting you," the druid at the entrance says when he sees them. there is no joy in his voice but no malice either, only a type of well-practiced resignation, and merlin remembers the last time they went to the druids for help. the druids will not hold it against them - or rather, they can not, a fact merlin is all too aware of. somehow, it makes him sad, even though it is the only thing enabling morgana and himself to find shelter and sanctuary at the moment.
he thinks this sadness must show on his face because morgana looks over and slips his hand into her own, squeezing tightly as another two druids arrive to usher them in.
"don't worry, merlin," she whispers against his jaw before pecking it lightly, leaving the ghost of a kiss upon the stubble. "everything is going to be all right."
"okay," merlin replies, and remembers that once upon a time, he too, lied for her benefit.
this is just like that.