Fic: cares we travail to content us (5/6)
Title: cares we travail to content us (5/6)
Author: angelqueen04
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 30,430 (this part 6,331)
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Arthur, Gwen/Morgause, Merlin, Nimueh, and a host of supporting characters
Warnings: hints of femslash, implications of torture (nothing graphic), eventual character death
Summary: It is a dark time for the galaxy. Emperor Uther has held much of known space in a violent chokehold for over two decades now. He ordered the annihilation of the Jedi Order, and demands that any person exhibiting Jedi abilities be executed for treason. His goddaughter, Princess Morgana of Alderaan, will do anything to see freedom restored to the galaxy, and serves as a spy for the Rebel Alliance. When she is captured by the Emperor’s agents, she is eventually brought into contact with Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Excalibur. Their meeting alone will bring about changes unforeseen, as there are other, mysterious forces at work, and secrets locked away for years are about to come out. Of course, they’ll have to keep from killing each other as well.
Author's Notes: This story is a fusion of the Merlin and Star Wars universes, with the characters and a few other names/places/things all being fitted into a Star Wars setting. It was initially written for the Morgana/Arthur Big Bang, which, sadly, did not come about due to a myriad of factors. So, I'm posting this for you now. The title comes from Sir Thomas Heneage, in a poem he wrote for Elizabeth I.
Part Four
Nimueh had been an expert at infiltration during the Mercian War, and as she slipped through the corridors of the station, she was satisfied to see that her skills had not gone rusty over the years of hiding out on Tatooine. She was able to avoid stormtroopers, officers, droids, and the like with relative ease. What was more difficult to avoid was the sick, diseased presence that permeated the station, a presence she recognized.
Aredian may have been a Grand Moff and Imperial Governor now, but she remembered him from years ago… when he was one of the toadies on Coruscant whose hatred for the Jedi had been all but rabid. It wasn’t a surprise that he became one of the chief proponents of Uther’s policy to exterminate any and all Force sensitives. Nimueh only wished she had killed the bastard when she’d had the chance, years ago.
She had to make the occasional detour to avoid him, but finally, she came to the maintenance area that Gwen had directed her to. The equipment that was her target had been put on a platform overlooking an enormous drop, she found. Blinking incredulously, Nimueh stared at it. What are these people thinking? She wondered. Are they trying to kill their own?!
She let out a small sigh and shook her head. Stepping gingerly onto the platform and being careful not to look down, Nimueh began perusing the different areas of the console. After a few minutes, she finally found the correct area that she needed. Just as she was about to cut the power to the tractor beam, however, she began to hear the sound of many rapid footsteps. Cursing inwardly, she used the Force to disillusion herself.
Within moments, a group of about ten stormtroopers appeared. They stopped at the door. The leader said, “Wait here. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, report it in immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” said another. Two remained behind while the others kept going.
Great. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance. She had hoped to get in and out without running into any difficulties or overt use of the Force, but that was impossible now. With some effort, she contained her irritation and glanced around. The guards were stationed at the door she had entered, but there was another door available, one that went in the opposite direction. Narrowing her eyes, Nimueh reached out and… there.
A loud crash emanated from the door. The two guards bolted towards the sound, which gave Nimueh the opportunity to dart out the way she had come.
She began to slip back down the corridor, working yet again to avoid anyone who came near her. Her part was done. Now she had to get back to the docking bay and hope that the younger people hadn’t gotten themselves killed trying to rescue Morgana Organa.
A wave of relief swept through Morgause when the doors to the lift opened up on the correct level. They didn’t have much further to go to get to the docking bay where the Excalibur was being held.
“Well,” Arthur said, “if we don’t listen to any more royally unsound advice, we may just get out of here alive.”
Morgause groaned inwardly as Morgana rounded on the ship captain. She had no idea these two would react this way to one another - picking and poking at one another at every available opportunity. If they didn’t stop soon, either they were going to kill one another or she would.
“Both of you, just shut up,” Morgause snapped. “We don’t have time for this.” She pulled the comm mike back out and said, “Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“We’re out,” she said. “You and Merlin find a spot to hide closer to the docking bay. We’ll meet you there.”
“Got it.”
The three of them darted down the corridors, jumping into alcoves whenever someone passed through. Fortunately, they weren’t spotted, nor did anyone hear the occasional bickering between Morgana and Arthur. No one except Morgause, anyway.
She clenched her teeth and did her best to ignore them both. She had no idea having a sister would mean having to endure something like this.
As they made their way closer and closer to their destination, Morgause paused a moment and whispered into the mike, “Gwen, you and Merlin find a place to hide outside the hangar. We’ll find you.”
Merlin did not wait long after Morgause's final message. Grabbing his blaster in one hand and Gwen's hand in the other, they crept out of the observation station. Merlin was glad to leave the room, to get away from the stink of death that permeated it. It was surprisingly easy to find an alcove near the hangar to wait in, and within minutes of their arrival, Merlin heard the sound of footsteps. Cautiously, he peered out from their hiding spot, careful to keep Gwen out of sight behind him, and waited.
When Morgause appeared with Arthur and a beautiful, dark-haired woman in tow, Merlin nearly fell over with relief. Slipping out of the alcove, he hissed, "Over here!"
Immediately two blasters were shoved in his face. Merlin blinked.
A beat, and then Arthur let his blaster drop and he snapped, "You really have a death wish, don't you Merlin? What - "
"Not now!" Merlin cut him off, grabbing Arthur by the sleeve and dragging him into the alcove. He didn't even wait to see if Morgause and the other woman - Princess Morgana, he assumed - followed them. "The Excalibur seems to be all right," he stated. "They haven't had a chance to start digging into the systems as of yet, but we can't wait much longer. They know you're on the loose and that you sprung Her Highness as well. They'll lock the hangar down as a precaution."
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but was again interrupted, this time by a glad cry of, "Gwen!" Merlin turned and watched as Gwen flew into the outstretched arms of the princess. The two women clung fiercely to one another, their faces buried in each other's shoulders. Morgause looked on, and Merlin saw a flurry of conflicting emotions cross her face before it settled into a polite, indifferent mask.
"I hate to interrupt," Arthur spoke up, "but Merlin's right. We need to get out of here."
"Did you hear anything from my mother before you left?" Morgause demanded.
Merlin shook his head. "Nothing." He looked at her. "Can't you... you know, feel her?" It was one thing that had actually made his childhood a bit easier, being able to sense those closest to him, most specifically Arthur and his mother. The day he could no longer feel their presences was the day he'd probably go mad.
Morgause bit her lip. "Usually, yes, but I don't dare at the moment," she admitted. "There's something here, something on the station..."
"She'll probably come to the hangar," Arthur suggested, looking a bit uncomfortable. "She'd know we'd have to make a quick getaway. She might already be there."
That was enough to get them all moving, and they abandoned their hiding spot. Traversing the short distance to the hangar, they peered cautiously through the doorway. Fortunately, there were only a few stormtroopers guarding the place.
Nimueh was almost at the hangar. She had been fortunate on her way back, rarely running into anyone that would force her to hide until they passed her by. It seemed everyone was busy putting out the various brushfires set up by Merlin and Gwen. She rounded a corner, the last one that led to the hangar -
And stopped dead in her tracks. There was someone standing there in the middle of the corridor, blocking her path.
Aredian. And he was smirking at her.
Nimueh fought the urge to growl and began striding toward him, making no effort to hide herself. He had spotted her as soon as she had seen him. “You look distinctly satisfied with yourself,” she said by way of greeting. “Still as inordinately pleased as ever by your own cleverness, Aredian?”
His smug air did not falter, and he responded, “Did you honestly think you would go undetected, Nimueh? My methods at tracking your kind have only grown more sophisticated over the years. The Emperor will be delighted to hear that I have finally dispatched the woman responsible for his wife and son’s death.”
The muscles in Nimueh’s arms twitched, and she longed to wrap her hands around the bastard’s throat, to choke the life out of him, to avenge the hundreds of her brethren that he had murdered -
But she couldn’t. Nimueh had skirted the Dark Side nearly all of her life, but she had never fallen, and she did not doubt that killing Aredian would send her careening down the path of no return.
She shrugged. “I’m afraid I cannot accommodate you or your master.” She tentatively reached out with the Force, gauging the atmosphere around Aredian. He did not appear to have any Force-disrupting influences about him - but with him, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Eyeing him suspiciously, Nimueh lashed out, attempting to push him back with the Force.
He didn’t budge, but from the way his lips twisted mockingly, he had still felt her attempt.
Damn it.
Morgana held tightly to Gwen’s hand as they darted across the hangar floor towards the waiting ship. The stormtroopers had their backs to them, providing them all with a rare opportunity to get to the ship undetected. However, when they were in mid-run, Gwen suddenly stopped, as did everyone else. Morgana paused as well, turning to look in the direction they were all looking.
“Mother?” she heard Morgause mutter.
Morgana peered across the hangar, toward one of the other entrances. She spotted two figures, one she immediately recognized as Aredian. The other was in a brown cloak, which obscured their features. She took that to be Master Nimueh. The Jedi was trapped, with Aredian and a group of stormtroopers blocking her escape route to the ship.
“We have to do something,” she whispered to Arthur, who was next to her.
He looked at her. “What?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “We’re outnumbered. Plus, I don’t think we’re a match for the man who’s slaughtered my Jedi than anyone else.”
She wanted to be irritated with him - had been so since he appeared outside her cell - but Morgana merely smirked at him instead and raised her blaster, one she had picked up near the door of the hangar. All the while, she silently wondered just what she was doing.
She was the first to open fire. Her shot took out one of the stormtroopers and her second hit the wall. The others followed suit. Gwen and Arthur both raised their blasters, but Morgause and Merlin raised their hands. At first, Morgana incredulously thought that they were trying to surrender - until she saw several of the storage containers throughout the hangar, which had been stacked neatly along the walls, suddenly take to the air. Several of them crashed into the remaining troopers, but a few went much, much further. They flew through the doorway and slammed right into Aredian, knocking him off his feet.
It was all the distraction that Nimueh needed to bolt. The few troopers who were still standing turned their blasters on her, but when they opened fire, a beam of emerald light appeared in the Jedi’s hand, deflecting the shots.
“Milady!” Gwen shouted in her ear, tugging on the sleeve of her dress. “We have to go! Now!”
Morgana nodded, but was surprised that she felt some reluctance. A part of her wanted to stay, to see if she could get to Aredian. She wanted to destroy him.
Then another voice rang through her ears. “Come on, Princess, stop being such a girl.”
Insufferable bastard, she thought as she was dragged up the ramp by both Gwen and Arthur.
It took some very fancy flying - perhaps some of his best work, if Arthur thought so himself - but the Excalibur was able to retreat quickly enough and make the jump into lightspeed before the station could organize a pursuit.
It didn’t take long for nearly everyone to leave the cockpit. Merlin had walked off, intent on scanning every single area of the ship, just in case something had been manipulated by the Imperials. Nimueh had been quiet, her expression troubled, and had gone to seek a quiet corner to meditate. Gwen and Morgause had gone to do… something. Arthur didn’t really know what.
That just left him and the princess. He didn’t really know why she was still in the cockpit. She had sunk down into Merlin’s chair after he had vacated it, and was staring pensively out of the cockpit window, watching the stars fly by.
“Not a too bad of a rescue, hm?” he asked lightly. “You’d think the Imperials would have better security.”
She glanced at him. “It has the most powerful weapon in existence mounted on it,” she said. “I don’t think security was what they had in mind when they were designing it.” The bitterness in her voice was palpable.
Arthur stared at her. He had a feeling that her thoughts were turning to her destroyed world, and he didn’t know what to say about it. “Why?” he suddenly blurted out.
“Why what?”
“Why did you do it?” he elaborated. “You’re a princess, the Emperor’s own goddaughter. You could have simply kept your head down and eventually inherited all of it. Then you could have gone on your crusade and changed everything back to the way it was.”
Morgana gazed at him, her green eyes shuttered. Then she sat up straighter in the chair. “Sometimes you have to do what you think is right,” she answered, “and damn the consequences.” She held his gaze for a moment, and then lowered her eyes. “I just never thought the consequences would include the devestation of an entire planet,” she added quietly.
There wasn’t anything Arthur could say to that. He sympathized with her, true, but there was little he could say to vocalize it properly. Merlin and Hunith were so much better at this kind of thing than he was, and Arthur found himself struck with envy because of it.
Yavin was a red gas giant in a lonely sector far from the normal space-trade routes. Uninhabitable, yes, but it had an extensive series of moons, many of which were perfect places for habitation. The fourth satellite was a habitable moon.
Yavin IV had been home to a Druid sanctuary for centuries, serving as refuge to many of their order. The Druids had been Force sensitive mystics, but had existed separately from the Jedi Order. They’d had no desire to serve the Republic as the Jedi did, and instead set themselves up as scholars and teachers who walked their own quiet paths. Of course, Nimueh thought grimly, their cleaving from the Jedi had not saved them in the end, and they too had been caught up in Uther’s ruthless purge in the years after Ygraine’s death. If there were any left, then they were deep in hiding, much as Nimueh herself had been. Now their sanctuary served to house the bulk of the Rebel Alliance.
The flight from the Alderaan system - or what was left of it - to the Yavin system only took a few hours, and they had scanned the space behind them for the entire trip. The station - the Death Star, according to Morgana - was following them, albeit at a much slower pace. They had at least a day before it arrived.
The Excalibur was given premium landing space on the Rebel base, once the Rebels were convinced that they really did have Princess Morgana, her handmaiden, and Jedi Master Nimueh onboard. It was Morgana who led the large group down the ramp, flanked by both Gwen and Morgause. Nimueh made a point to follow the three women at a somewhat slower pace, with both Arthur and Merlin bringing up the rear.
Nimueh peered ahead of them, looking at the group of people that Morgana was hurrying toward. Finding the leader of the group, she inhaled sharply, recognizing him. It shouldn’t be a surprise, though, she thought after a moment. If anyone would lead a movement against Uther, it would be Tristan.
Tristan de Blois, the leader of the Rebel Alliance. Tristan de Blois, Uther Pendragon’s brother-in-law. Tristan de Blois, Arthur Pendragon’s uncle.
Well, aren’t they all just one big happy family? she thought sourly.
Unaware of her thoughts, Tristan stepped forward and pulled Morgana into a gentle embrace. “I’m relieved to see you, my dear,” he said quietly. “When we heard about Alderaan…”
Morgana returned the gesture for a moment, but then stepped back, “We must save our sorrows for later, my lord. Gwen has the plans. They’re our only hope now, and we have a day to find a weakness in that monstrosity.” She turned, gesturing to Gwen, who immediately pulled the datapad out of her cloak. As the handmaiden handed it to Tristan, Morgana began introducing the rest of her companions.
As it turned out Nimueh was the last to be introduced, so she was able to observe Tristan’s reactions to Morgana’s entourage. Merlin only received a polite nod, but both Morgause and Arthur earned sharp, searching looks. “… and this is Jedi Master Nimueh,” Morgana finished.
Tristan’s dark eyes pinned her, but Nimueh only raised an eyebrow before bowing slightly to him. “Lord Tristan,” she murmured.
“Master Jedi,” he responded, his tone equally blasé. “I thank you for your pains in returning the Death Star plans and Princess Morgana to us.” He handed the datapad to one of the military aides nearby, and then looked at her again. “May I speak with you in private?” he inquired.
So soon? She’d assumed he’d want to look at the plans first, but it seemed that she was wrong. Nimueh nodded, though, and followed him further into the large temple. Behind her, she could hear another of Tristan’s aides directing the others to another section of the base.
The office that Tristan led her to was small and windowless, and yet it was surprisingly cool. Nimueh sat down and stared at the man who had moved behind the desk. The Tristan de Blois she remembered had been a brash but talented young man, one of the Republic's finest battle commanders in the war against the Mercians. He had already established himself by the time his sister had married the Chancellor - meaning that there had been few murmurs about nepotism. She recalled that Tristan had earned the respect of not just the military, but of the Jedi as well. Some of her brethren had spoken well of him throughout the war, and the time she had spent in his presence - rare, but there had been a few instances - had led her to believe much of what she was told.
Now, there was little of that young man in the person before her. Tristan's eyes were darker than Nimueh remembered, and the lines on his face and grey in his hair showed how much he had aged in the past two decades. His lips were naturally shaped into a frown, and the sharpness in his gaze did nothing to put anyone who might look at him at ease. The weight of grief still hung about him like a dark cloud, but that didn't surprise her much. Nimueh recalled that Tristan had been very close to Ygraine, and the rumors that she'd heard while hiding on Alderaan had indicated that he had not taken her death well.
"Master Jedi," he spoke, breaking her thoughts, "perhaps you could clarify a few things for me."
She stared at him pensively. "If I can," she replied.
"Good. Can you tell me why you have brought me a young man who bears my dead sister's face and eyes, as well as Uther’s family name?"
So he had noticed it. Arthur's close resemblance to Ygraine had not escaped Nimueh's notice in her short acquaintance with him. It was almost painful, to see the features of dear, dear Ygraine, borne by the son she’d never had a chance to know. Still, as she looked into Tristan's eyes and saw how closely they were watching her, Nimueh knew this was not the time for half-truths. "He is Arthur," she said, emphasizing the young man’s name. Ygraine had confided in Nimueh of the names she had chosen for her child, be it a girl or a boy, and she didn’t doubt that Ygraine would have told her brother as well.
He blinked for several moments, confused, before his eyes widened in comprehension. Tristan leaned back in his chair, his face a little pale. "My sister-son lives," he murmured. "How did this happen? How did you get him out?"
"Gaius and I worked together," she told him. "Ygraine was dead, Uther immediately blamed the Jedi because we foolishly helped in their quest to have a child." The bitterness of that mistake had not faded; to this day, Nimueh still regretted giving in to Uther and Ygraine's pleas for help. "The boy would be crucial to any plans to restore what Uther destroyed, so we decided to hide him. He grew up in the care of Gaius' sister on Corellia. The co-pilot, Merlin, is her son."
Tristan did not speak for several moments, but eventually nodded slowly. "You probably did the right thing," he said reluctantly. "Uther would have ruined the boy." He ran his fingers through his greying hair. "This... will change many things, once news gets out about who he is. That Uther's son lives means that he is also Uther's heir, by old Republican law. There is much to consider."
"Indeed."
He nodded again. "And what of the girl, Morgause?" When Nimueh did not respond immediately, his eyes narrowed. "Most people might not take notice of it, but the girl bears a remarkable resemblance to Glynis. She's their firstborn, isn't she? The child that allegedly died."
Nimueh took a deep, steadying breath, but nodded affirmatively. Tristan stared at her a moment and then asked, "Why did they send her away?" She didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. It only took him a few moments to figure it out. “Was she Force sensitive? That’s the only reason they would fake her death that I can think of.”
She nodded. "Uther would have killed her," Nimueh pointed out, "just as he would kill Morgana if he ever lays his filthy hands on her again. She is sensitive to the Force as well, and Aredian has likely already informed Uther quite... gleefully."
Tristan shook his head. "You have brought the winds of great change with you, Nimueh," he said, sounding almost amused. He leaned forward confidingly. "Tell me everything."
Gwen was glad to be rid of the datapad, as well as the information that she had gleaned from the Death Star’s database. It pleased Gwen to go back to her normal duties of looking after Morgana; she had no desire to be a spy for the Alliance. It was much too complicated, not to mention terrifying.
After Lord Tristan left to speak privately with Nimueh, Gwen followed closely at Morgana’s heels as she led the rest of them deeper into the sanctuary. They eventually came upon an empty antechamber, and settled into the chairs that had been scattered around the space.
Gwen sat on a stool at Morgana’s left, noting that Morgause took a chair on the princess’ right. Merlin and Arthur sat down in two comfortable-looking chairs across from them. There was a moment of awkward silence before Morgana spoke up. “From what I understand, the two of you have more than held up your end of the agreement that you made with Master Nimueh,” she said. “I understand that you were to be paid a significant sum when you delivered her and her companions to Alderaan.” She paused, a flash of pain crossing her features, and then continued, “Seeing as that is now impossible, I ask that you name what kind of payment you would prefer now. I have access to several royal accounts, unofficial ones that cannot be frozen or controlled by anyone other than myself.” She gazed at the two men. “How much do you require?”
Neither Merlin nor Arthur answered immediately. They glanced at each other and Gwen noticed how their expressions flickered and changed, almost as though they were having a conversation. After several moments, Arthur responded, “None.”
Morgana started in surprise, and stared at him. “What?” she asked. “But you have more than earned a reward. Rescuing me -”
“Was the right thing to do,” Merlin interrupted. He crossed his arms. “Your Highness, we only wish to help.”
“Why?” Morgause broke in, her tone almost suspicious. “This isn’t your fight.”
Again, the two men glanced at each other, and Gwen watched another silent exchange pass between them. “It is the fight of everyone who abhors injustice,” Arthur said at last. “If we or the Excalibur can be of use in battle, we offer our services.”
Silence descended on their group yet again. Then Morgana smiled slightly, almost shyly, in Arthur’s direction. “Perhaps you are not as mercenary as I thought, Captain Pendragon.”
Gwen watched Arthur eye Morgana, and groaned silently when his lips slowly twisted into an arrogant smirk. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
He continued to grin at Morgana. “It’s okay, Princess, you can say it. No need to be shy.”
Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Say what?”
“It’s obvious that you like me!” The resulting kick in the leg from Merlin did not alter Arthur’s expression in the slightest.
Her green eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in irritation. “Less and less by the second,” she snapped. Standing up, she marched toward the door. Gwen scrambled to her feet and hurried after her.
And things had been going so smoothly for the past few hours too, she thought. It had been too good to last, it seemed.
Merlin didn’t know what to make of Arthur’s behavior. On the Death Star, he’d left that observation area to rescue a princess, and had returned to the Excalibur intent on provoking said princess at every opportunity. Arthur, Merlin knew, liked a good argument as much as anyone - he could testify to that personally, with years of evidence to back him up - and he had always enjoyed a certain popularity with women. In their younger years, Merlin had found it almost revolting the way girls had thrown themselves at his foster brother’s feet, but by now he had become accustomed to it.
Which made Arthur’s behavior toward Princess Morgana all the more unusual. He had no need to metaphorically pull her braids to get her attention, and yet he seemed to relish doing so. It was all rather confusing, not to mention irritating.
After Morgana had left them in the little antechamber, Merlin and Arthur had chosen to return to the Excalibur, intent on doing further scans of the ship, just to ensure that it had not been damaged during its time onboard the Death Star. They assumed that the Imperials had tracked them back to the Rebel Base, but no matter how hard they looked, neither of them found any tracking device.
It was around the time of the moonrise that they heard the speaker system in the temple come on. “Attention all personnel, report to the briefing theatre immediately. I repeat, all personnel report to the briefing theatre.”
Merlin looked up from his current project - putting back together the hyperdrive - toward Arthur, who was making modifications to their shield generators. “Should we go?” he asked.
Arthur stood up, nodding but saying nothing, which made Merlin wonder at his motives. Still, it wouldn’t take long to finish with the hyperdrive later on. Once off the ship, they followed the majority of the people milling about the base, eventually coming to the theatre and finding a spot along the wall in the back to listen.
As people began to settle into chairs or elsewhere throughout the room, Merlin glanced around, looking for any familiar faces. He quickly spotted Princess Morgana and Gwen standing near the front. Morgause was near them as well, wrapped almost defensively in her brown cloak. It took a little more looking, but Merlin eventually found Nimueh, and saw that she was standing next to Lord Tristan, deep on conversation with the Rebel leader. At that moment, the lights dimmed and Merlin turned his attention to the front, where one of the Rebel officers was beginning the briefing.
Merlin was well-versed in mechanics and engineering - keeping the Excalibur in top shape required it - but much of the technical information went over his head. He did get the gist of the briefing though - the Death Star was nigh impregnable, but it had a single weakness: a small vent that led straight to the station’s core. A direct hit on that vent would set off a chain reaction that would cause the place to blow. The problem lay in getting to the vent, which meant getting past the station’s surface weapons, as well as their fleet of fighters.
It was a long shot, practically suicide. Still, when Merlin turned to look at Arthur, he saw that his foster brother was actually considering it! “Arthur,” he started, whispering furiously, “don’t -”
But Arthur raised his hand, cutting him off. They stood in silence, watching as the gathering broke up and all the pilots moved to take up their assigned fighters. “I have to, Merlin,” Arthur said at last. “I was meant to do this.”
“Meant to?” Merlin demanded incredulously. “Only few days ago, you were determined to set up shop somewhere other than Tatooine just to get away from Jabba. Now you want to go get yourself killed?” When he and Arthur had volunteered their services to Morgana the evening before, he had thought that it would be from the safety of the Excalibur, where they could make an escape if necessary. A fighter was virtually defenseless in this kind of fight.
Arthur stared at him. “Hunith always said to pick our fights carefully,” he replied simply. “This is right, like I’m meant to be here. What the Empire has done… it can’t be forgiven, and I can’t just sit by.” His gaze was piercing, his voice low and urgent. “You understand?”
Merlin gritted his teeth, annoyed. “Fine,” he ground out reluctantly, “but I’m coming with you. Someone has to watch -”
“No, you won’t.”
“What?”
Arthur shook his head. “You’ll stay with the Excalibur. Keep her ready to make a fast getaway if it comes to that. Take as many of them as you can,” he said. He paused, then added, “Make sure Her Highness is onboard. I didn’t risk my skin to get her off that station just to have her get herself blown up a day later.”
And just like that, the conversation was over. Merlin was left gaping as Arthur stepped forward to volunteer as a fighter pilot. He started after him, craving to talk Arthur out of this suicide mission. Merlin had not spent his whole life looking after his brother just to see him die - when a voice suddenly stopped him in his tracks.
Let him go, Merlin.
He frantically searched, and found Nimueh staring at him from her spot at Lord Tristan’s side. Her lips did not move, but Merlin still heard her voice. His path led him here. His destiny is here. There’s much you can protect Arthur from, but you can’t shield him from his destiny.
Let him go. Let him be his mother’s son.
Merlin blinked. What?!
Morgana watched, completely shocked, as Arthur Pendragon offered Lord Tristan his services as a pilot. The man confounded her like no other. He behaved like a child so much of the time, but occasionally, like last night when he had volunteered the Excalibur to assist the Alliance, there was a hint of something else in him. Something greater. Until he started claiming that she liked him, of all things.
Who was this man?
As shocked as she was, though, she did take note of Lord Tristan’s unusual expression. He seemed oddly reluctant to agree to Arthur being one of the pilots in the coming battle, though she could not understand why. Morgana had not said anything of her personal opinion of Arthur, so there really was no reason to turn down a prospective pilot. However, the look faded when Nimueh laid her hand briefly on Tristan’s arm and nodded encouragingly. The Alliance leader hesitated for another brief moment, but then nodded.
“Very well,” Tristan said at last. “I’ll have my officers assign you a fighter, provided you pass our flight simulators. You’ll take your orders from Master Nimueh,” he tipped his head to the Jedi Master, “who will be serving as Red Leader.”
Arthur nodded. “Yes, sir.” One of the other pilots, a young man Morgana recalled as one Owain Antilles, appeared then and motioned for Arthur to come with him.
She watched him leave the theatre and murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “I don’t understand him.”
Morgause, however, seemed to have heard her. She responded, “He is full of surprises. He was less than supportive of his co-pilot’s abilities, and yet he still agreed to assist in freeing you - someone he had never seen before in his life.”
“Quite the contradiction,” Morgana agreed.
The resulting scramble to prepare made the time pass quickly while they waited until the Death Star was spotted. Arthur’s guide, Owain, introduced him to several of the other pilots before directing him to the flight simulators.
“It’s pretty much just a formality for you,” Owain stated as he programmed the simulator. “We know you can fly, but it’s standard procedure to put all prospective pilots through the simulators.”
It was a formality. They threw the entire Imperial fleet at him, and he only lost twice. When Arthur came out, Owain and one of his other fellow pilots, Pellinor, were grinning at him. “You’ll fit in just fine, Pendragon,” Owain said cheerfully.
“Hey,” Pellinor said suddenly, “what’s with your surname? It’s the same as the Emperor’s.” There was no distrust in his voice, only curiosity.
Arthur shrugged. He had been asked about it many times in the past. “Coincidence, as far as I know,” he answered. “My foster mother never told me much about my biological family.”
The two men nodded. “War orphan?” Owain asked.
“I think so.”
The conversation probably would have continued, but for the intercom that suddenly flared to life. “Attention all personnel: Death Star has entered the system. Will be in firing range in fifty-five minutes. All pilots to their fighters.”
“Well,” Pellinor said, moving swiftly toward the door, “Time to go.”
Arthur followed the others, taking the jumpsuit they offered him. “You’ll be fine, ‘Dragon,” Owain said as they jogged down the corridors toward the hangar. “A point-oh-two rating? You stay with us and they’ll drag you up the ranks so fast your head will spin.”
Arthur laughed under his breath. Merlin would just love to hear that, not to mention Her Royal Highness.
Once they reached the hangar, Pellinor directed him toward the fighter just to the left of his own. As Arthur hurried up the ladder to the cockpit, he glanced around, and saw Master Nimueh a short distance away. She too was in a flight suit, her helmet under her arm. Morgause was with her, wearing an unhappy expression on her face.
“Are you sure about this, Mother?” Morgause asked yet again. “You haven’t piloted a fighter since the war -”
“It’s not something you forget, daughter,” Nimueh interrupted, amusement flickering across her features. “Besides, these models are very similar to the fighters I flew in. I am quite capable of handling it.”
Morgause continued to frown. She didn’t like this, not at all. The Jedi were the minority these days, her mother being one of the few masters who had managed to survive Uther’s act of genocide. What was Lord Tristan thinking, sending her up against that behemoth?
Nimueh’s fingers brushing under her chin caught Morgause’s attention. “I can do more up there than sitting down here waiting,” she explained, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
“Then why am I the one sitting down here and waiting?” Morgause shot back. She didn’t know exactly why she was making such a fuss, but her instincts were all over the place at the moment. This was going to be a difficult day.
“Because,” the older woman replied, “your first duty is still to Morgana. I know that Arthur Pendragon has told his co-pilot to keep a close eye on the battle. If things go badly, Merlin is to evacuate as many as he can onto the Excalibur, including the princess. You must stay with your sister. Train her one day, Morgause. When she is ready.” Nimueh’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “She will be vital to any future this galaxy has to face. She must survive.” Then just as quickly, Nimueh retorted and stared at her hard. “As must you.”
Morgause opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t get a chance. Nimueh just smiled at her, chucked her under the chin once more, and then turned to go up the ladder. Morgause watched her for a moment, and then turned away. She needed to get off the floor before the fighters could take off, and Morgana was in the control center.
Her sister had been left in her charge. It was a heavy weight, being responsible for the last of her blood kin. Morgause had never suspected that when she had stared up from the surface of Tatooine, longing desperately to be among the stars and to meet the family she had been separated from.
Part Six
Author: angelqueen04
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 30,430 (this part 6,331)
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Arthur, Gwen/Morgause, Merlin, Nimueh, and a host of supporting characters
Warnings: hints of femslash, implications of torture (nothing graphic), eventual character death
Summary: It is a dark time for the galaxy. Emperor Uther has held much of known space in a violent chokehold for over two decades now. He ordered the annihilation of the Jedi Order, and demands that any person exhibiting Jedi abilities be executed for treason. His goddaughter, Princess Morgana of Alderaan, will do anything to see freedom restored to the galaxy, and serves as a spy for the Rebel Alliance. When she is captured by the Emperor’s agents, she is eventually brought into contact with Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Excalibur. Their meeting alone will bring about changes unforeseen, as there are other, mysterious forces at work, and secrets locked away for years are about to come out. Of course, they’ll have to keep from killing each other as well.
Author's Notes: This story is a fusion of the Merlin and Star Wars universes, with the characters and a few other names/places/things all being fitted into a Star Wars setting. It was initially written for the Morgana/Arthur Big Bang, which, sadly, did not come about due to a myriad of factors. So, I'm posting this for you now. The title comes from Sir Thomas Heneage, in a poem he wrote for Elizabeth I.
Part Four
Nimueh had been an expert at infiltration during the Mercian War, and as she slipped through the corridors of the station, she was satisfied to see that her skills had not gone rusty over the years of hiding out on Tatooine. She was able to avoid stormtroopers, officers, droids, and the like with relative ease. What was more difficult to avoid was the sick, diseased presence that permeated the station, a presence she recognized.
Aredian may have been a Grand Moff and Imperial Governor now, but she remembered him from years ago… when he was one of the toadies on Coruscant whose hatred for the Jedi had been all but rabid. It wasn’t a surprise that he became one of the chief proponents of Uther’s policy to exterminate any and all Force sensitives. Nimueh only wished she had killed the bastard when she’d had the chance, years ago.
She had to make the occasional detour to avoid him, but finally, she came to the maintenance area that Gwen had directed her to. The equipment that was her target had been put on a platform overlooking an enormous drop, she found. Blinking incredulously, Nimueh stared at it. What are these people thinking? She wondered. Are they trying to kill their own?!
She let out a small sigh and shook her head. Stepping gingerly onto the platform and being careful not to look down, Nimueh began perusing the different areas of the console. After a few minutes, she finally found the correct area that she needed. Just as she was about to cut the power to the tractor beam, however, she began to hear the sound of many rapid footsteps. Cursing inwardly, she used the Force to disillusion herself.
Within moments, a group of about ten stormtroopers appeared. They stopped at the door. The leader said, “Wait here. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, report it in immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” said another. Two remained behind while the others kept going.
Great. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance. She had hoped to get in and out without running into any difficulties or overt use of the Force, but that was impossible now. With some effort, she contained her irritation and glanced around. The guards were stationed at the door she had entered, but there was another door available, one that went in the opposite direction. Narrowing her eyes, Nimueh reached out and… there.
A loud crash emanated from the door. The two guards bolted towards the sound, which gave Nimueh the opportunity to dart out the way she had come.
She began to slip back down the corridor, working yet again to avoid anyone who came near her. Her part was done. Now she had to get back to the docking bay and hope that the younger people hadn’t gotten themselves killed trying to rescue Morgana Organa.
A wave of relief swept through Morgause when the doors to the lift opened up on the correct level. They didn’t have much further to go to get to the docking bay where the Excalibur was being held.
“Well,” Arthur said, “if we don’t listen to any more royally unsound advice, we may just get out of here alive.”
Morgause groaned inwardly as Morgana rounded on the ship captain. She had no idea these two would react this way to one another - picking and poking at one another at every available opportunity. If they didn’t stop soon, either they were going to kill one another or she would.
“Both of you, just shut up,” Morgause snapped. “We don’t have time for this.” She pulled the comm mike back out and said, “Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“We’re out,” she said. “You and Merlin find a spot to hide closer to the docking bay. We’ll meet you there.”
“Got it.”
The three of them darted down the corridors, jumping into alcoves whenever someone passed through. Fortunately, they weren’t spotted, nor did anyone hear the occasional bickering between Morgana and Arthur. No one except Morgause, anyway.
She clenched her teeth and did her best to ignore them both. She had no idea having a sister would mean having to endure something like this.
As they made their way closer and closer to their destination, Morgause paused a moment and whispered into the mike, “Gwen, you and Merlin find a place to hide outside the hangar. We’ll find you.”
Merlin did not wait long after Morgause's final message. Grabbing his blaster in one hand and Gwen's hand in the other, they crept out of the observation station. Merlin was glad to leave the room, to get away from the stink of death that permeated it. It was surprisingly easy to find an alcove near the hangar to wait in, and within minutes of their arrival, Merlin heard the sound of footsteps. Cautiously, he peered out from their hiding spot, careful to keep Gwen out of sight behind him, and waited.
When Morgause appeared with Arthur and a beautiful, dark-haired woman in tow, Merlin nearly fell over with relief. Slipping out of the alcove, he hissed, "Over here!"
Immediately two blasters were shoved in his face. Merlin blinked.
A beat, and then Arthur let his blaster drop and he snapped, "You really have a death wish, don't you Merlin? What - "
"Not now!" Merlin cut him off, grabbing Arthur by the sleeve and dragging him into the alcove. He didn't even wait to see if Morgause and the other woman - Princess Morgana, he assumed - followed them. "The Excalibur seems to be all right," he stated. "They haven't had a chance to start digging into the systems as of yet, but we can't wait much longer. They know you're on the loose and that you sprung Her Highness as well. They'll lock the hangar down as a precaution."
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but was again interrupted, this time by a glad cry of, "Gwen!" Merlin turned and watched as Gwen flew into the outstretched arms of the princess. The two women clung fiercely to one another, their faces buried in each other's shoulders. Morgause looked on, and Merlin saw a flurry of conflicting emotions cross her face before it settled into a polite, indifferent mask.
"I hate to interrupt," Arthur spoke up, "but Merlin's right. We need to get out of here."
"Did you hear anything from my mother before you left?" Morgause demanded.
Merlin shook his head. "Nothing." He looked at her. "Can't you... you know, feel her?" It was one thing that had actually made his childhood a bit easier, being able to sense those closest to him, most specifically Arthur and his mother. The day he could no longer feel their presences was the day he'd probably go mad.
Morgause bit her lip. "Usually, yes, but I don't dare at the moment," she admitted. "There's something here, something on the station..."
"She'll probably come to the hangar," Arthur suggested, looking a bit uncomfortable. "She'd know we'd have to make a quick getaway. She might already be there."
That was enough to get them all moving, and they abandoned their hiding spot. Traversing the short distance to the hangar, they peered cautiously through the doorway. Fortunately, there were only a few stormtroopers guarding the place.
Nimueh was almost at the hangar. She had been fortunate on her way back, rarely running into anyone that would force her to hide until they passed her by. It seemed everyone was busy putting out the various brushfires set up by Merlin and Gwen. She rounded a corner, the last one that led to the hangar -
And stopped dead in her tracks. There was someone standing there in the middle of the corridor, blocking her path.
Aredian. And he was smirking at her.
Nimueh fought the urge to growl and began striding toward him, making no effort to hide herself. He had spotted her as soon as she had seen him. “You look distinctly satisfied with yourself,” she said by way of greeting. “Still as inordinately pleased as ever by your own cleverness, Aredian?”
His smug air did not falter, and he responded, “Did you honestly think you would go undetected, Nimueh? My methods at tracking your kind have only grown more sophisticated over the years. The Emperor will be delighted to hear that I have finally dispatched the woman responsible for his wife and son’s death.”
The muscles in Nimueh’s arms twitched, and she longed to wrap her hands around the bastard’s throat, to choke the life out of him, to avenge the hundreds of her brethren that he had murdered -
But she couldn’t. Nimueh had skirted the Dark Side nearly all of her life, but she had never fallen, and she did not doubt that killing Aredian would send her careening down the path of no return.
She shrugged. “I’m afraid I cannot accommodate you or your master.” She tentatively reached out with the Force, gauging the atmosphere around Aredian. He did not appear to have any Force-disrupting influences about him - but with him, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Eyeing him suspiciously, Nimueh lashed out, attempting to push him back with the Force.
He didn’t budge, but from the way his lips twisted mockingly, he had still felt her attempt.
Damn it.
Morgana held tightly to Gwen’s hand as they darted across the hangar floor towards the waiting ship. The stormtroopers had their backs to them, providing them all with a rare opportunity to get to the ship undetected. However, when they were in mid-run, Gwen suddenly stopped, as did everyone else. Morgana paused as well, turning to look in the direction they were all looking.
“Mother?” she heard Morgause mutter.
Morgana peered across the hangar, toward one of the other entrances. She spotted two figures, one she immediately recognized as Aredian. The other was in a brown cloak, which obscured their features. She took that to be Master Nimueh. The Jedi was trapped, with Aredian and a group of stormtroopers blocking her escape route to the ship.
“We have to do something,” she whispered to Arthur, who was next to her.
He looked at her. “What?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “We’re outnumbered. Plus, I don’t think we’re a match for the man who’s slaughtered my Jedi than anyone else.”
She wanted to be irritated with him - had been so since he appeared outside her cell - but Morgana merely smirked at him instead and raised her blaster, one she had picked up near the door of the hangar. All the while, she silently wondered just what she was doing.
She was the first to open fire. Her shot took out one of the stormtroopers and her second hit the wall. The others followed suit. Gwen and Arthur both raised their blasters, but Morgause and Merlin raised their hands. At first, Morgana incredulously thought that they were trying to surrender - until she saw several of the storage containers throughout the hangar, which had been stacked neatly along the walls, suddenly take to the air. Several of them crashed into the remaining troopers, but a few went much, much further. They flew through the doorway and slammed right into Aredian, knocking him off his feet.
It was all the distraction that Nimueh needed to bolt. The few troopers who were still standing turned their blasters on her, but when they opened fire, a beam of emerald light appeared in the Jedi’s hand, deflecting the shots.
“Milady!” Gwen shouted in her ear, tugging on the sleeve of her dress. “We have to go! Now!”
Morgana nodded, but was surprised that she felt some reluctance. A part of her wanted to stay, to see if she could get to Aredian. She wanted to destroy him.
Then another voice rang through her ears. “Come on, Princess, stop being such a girl.”
Insufferable bastard, she thought as she was dragged up the ramp by both Gwen and Arthur.
It took some very fancy flying - perhaps some of his best work, if Arthur thought so himself - but the Excalibur was able to retreat quickly enough and make the jump into lightspeed before the station could organize a pursuit.
It didn’t take long for nearly everyone to leave the cockpit. Merlin had walked off, intent on scanning every single area of the ship, just in case something had been manipulated by the Imperials. Nimueh had been quiet, her expression troubled, and had gone to seek a quiet corner to meditate. Gwen and Morgause had gone to do… something. Arthur didn’t really know what.
That just left him and the princess. He didn’t really know why she was still in the cockpit. She had sunk down into Merlin’s chair after he had vacated it, and was staring pensively out of the cockpit window, watching the stars fly by.
“Not a too bad of a rescue, hm?” he asked lightly. “You’d think the Imperials would have better security.”
She glanced at him. “It has the most powerful weapon in existence mounted on it,” she said. “I don’t think security was what they had in mind when they were designing it.” The bitterness in her voice was palpable.
Arthur stared at her. He had a feeling that her thoughts were turning to her destroyed world, and he didn’t know what to say about it. “Why?” he suddenly blurted out.
“Why what?”
“Why did you do it?” he elaborated. “You’re a princess, the Emperor’s own goddaughter. You could have simply kept your head down and eventually inherited all of it. Then you could have gone on your crusade and changed everything back to the way it was.”
Morgana gazed at him, her green eyes shuttered. Then she sat up straighter in the chair. “Sometimes you have to do what you think is right,” she answered, “and damn the consequences.” She held his gaze for a moment, and then lowered her eyes. “I just never thought the consequences would include the devestation of an entire planet,” she added quietly.
There wasn’t anything Arthur could say to that. He sympathized with her, true, but there was little he could say to vocalize it properly. Merlin and Hunith were so much better at this kind of thing than he was, and Arthur found himself struck with envy because of it.
Yavin was a red gas giant in a lonely sector far from the normal space-trade routes. Uninhabitable, yes, but it had an extensive series of moons, many of which were perfect places for habitation. The fourth satellite was a habitable moon.
Yavin IV had been home to a Druid sanctuary for centuries, serving as refuge to many of their order. The Druids had been Force sensitive mystics, but had existed separately from the Jedi Order. They’d had no desire to serve the Republic as the Jedi did, and instead set themselves up as scholars and teachers who walked their own quiet paths. Of course, Nimueh thought grimly, their cleaving from the Jedi had not saved them in the end, and they too had been caught up in Uther’s ruthless purge in the years after Ygraine’s death. If there were any left, then they were deep in hiding, much as Nimueh herself had been. Now their sanctuary served to house the bulk of the Rebel Alliance.
The flight from the Alderaan system - or what was left of it - to the Yavin system only took a few hours, and they had scanned the space behind them for the entire trip. The station - the Death Star, according to Morgana - was following them, albeit at a much slower pace. They had at least a day before it arrived.
The Excalibur was given premium landing space on the Rebel base, once the Rebels were convinced that they really did have Princess Morgana, her handmaiden, and Jedi Master Nimueh onboard. It was Morgana who led the large group down the ramp, flanked by both Gwen and Morgause. Nimueh made a point to follow the three women at a somewhat slower pace, with both Arthur and Merlin bringing up the rear.
Nimueh peered ahead of them, looking at the group of people that Morgana was hurrying toward. Finding the leader of the group, she inhaled sharply, recognizing him. It shouldn’t be a surprise, though, she thought after a moment. If anyone would lead a movement against Uther, it would be Tristan.
Tristan de Blois, the leader of the Rebel Alliance. Tristan de Blois, Uther Pendragon’s brother-in-law. Tristan de Blois, Arthur Pendragon’s uncle.
Well, aren’t they all just one big happy family? she thought sourly.
Unaware of her thoughts, Tristan stepped forward and pulled Morgana into a gentle embrace. “I’m relieved to see you, my dear,” he said quietly. “When we heard about Alderaan…”
Morgana returned the gesture for a moment, but then stepped back, “We must save our sorrows for later, my lord. Gwen has the plans. They’re our only hope now, and we have a day to find a weakness in that monstrosity.” She turned, gesturing to Gwen, who immediately pulled the datapad out of her cloak. As the handmaiden handed it to Tristan, Morgana began introducing the rest of her companions.
As it turned out Nimueh was the last to be introduced, so she was able to observe Tristan’s reactions to Morgana’s entourage. Merlin only received a polite nod, but both Morgause and Arthur earned sharp, searching looks. “… and this is Jedi Master Nimueh,” Morgana finished.
Tristan’s dark eyes pinned her, but Nimueh only raised an eyebrow before bowing slightly to him. “Lord Tristan,” she murmured.
“Master Jedi,” he responded, his tone equally blasé. “I thank you for your pains in returning the Death Star plans and Princess Morgana to us.” He handed the datapad to one of the military aides nearby, and then looked at her again. “May I speak with you in private?” he inquired.
So soon? She’d assumed he’d want to look at the plans first, but it seemed that she was wrong. Nimueh nodded, though, and followed him further into the large temple. Behind her, she could hear another of Tristan’s aides directing the others to another section of the base.
The office that Tristan led her to was small and windowless, and yet it was surprisingly cool. Nimueh sat down and stared at the man who had moved behind the desk. The Tristan de Blois she remembered had been a brash but talented young man, one of the Republic's finest battle commanders in the war against the Mercians. He had already established himself by the time his sister had married the Chancellor - meaning that there had been few murmurs about nepotism. She recalled that Tristan had earned the respect of not just the military, but of the Jedi as well. Some of her brethren had spoken well of him throughout the war, and the time she had spent in his presence - rare, but there had been a few instances - had led her to believe much of what she was told.
Now, there was little of that young man in the person before her. Tristan's eyes were darker than Nimueh remembered, and the lines on his face and grey in his hair showed how much he had aged in the past two decades. His lips were naturally shaped into a frown, and the sharpness in his gaze did nothing to put anyone who might look at him at ease. The weight of grief still hung about him like a dark cloud, but that didn't surprise her much. Nimueh recalled that Tristan had been very close to Ygraine, and the rumors that she'd heard while hiding on Alderaan had indicated that he had not taken her death well.
"Master Jedi," he spoke, breaking her thoughts, "perhaps you could clarify a few things for me."
She stared at him pensively. "If I can," she replied.
"Good. Can you tell me why you have brought me a young man who bears my dead sister's face and eyes, as well as Uther’s family name?"
So he had noticed it. Arthur's close resemblance to Ygraine had not escaped Nimueh's notice in her short acquaintance with him. It was almost painful, to see the features of dear, dear Ygraine, borne by the son she’d never had a chance to know. Still, as she looked into Tristan's eyes and saw how closely they were watching her, Nimueh knew this was not the time for half-truths. "He is Arthur," she said, emphasizing the young man’s name. Ygraine had confided in Nimueh of the names she had chosen for her child, be it a girl or a boy, and she didn’t doubt that Ygraine would have told her brother as well.
He blinked for several moments, confused, before his eyes widened in comprehension. Tristan leaned back in his chair, his face a little pale. "My sister-son lives," he murmured. "How did this happen? How did you get him out?"
"Gaius and I worked together," she told him. "Ygraine was dead, Uther immediately blamed the Jedi because we foolishly helped in their quest to have a child." The bitterness of that mistake had not faded; to this day, Nimueh still regretted giving in to Uther and Ygraine's pleas for help. "The boy would be crucial to any plans to restore what Uther destroyed, so we decided to hide him. He grew up in the care of Gaius' sister on Corellia. The co-pilot, Merlin, is her son."
Tristan did not speak for several moments, but eventually nodded slowly. "You probably did the right thing," he said reluctantly. "Uther would have ruined the boy." He ran his fingers through his greying hair. "This... will change many things, once news gets out about who he is. That Uther's son lives means that he is also Uther's heir, by old Republican law. There is much to consider."
"Indeed."
He nodded again. "And what of the girl, Morgause?" When Nimueh did not respond immediately, his eyes narrowed. "Most people might not take notice of it, but the girl bears a remarkable resemblance to Glynis. She's their firstborn, isn't she? The child that allegedly died."
Nimueh took a deep, steadying breath, but nodded affirmatively. Tristan stared at her a moment and then asked, "Why did they send her away?" She didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. It only took him a few moments to figure it out. “Was she Force sensitive? That’s the only reason they would fake her death that I can think of.”
She nodded. "Uther would have killed her," Nimueh pointed out, "just as he would kill Morgana if he ever lays his filthy hands on her again. She is sensitive to the Force as well, and Aredian has likely already informed Uther quite... gleefully."
Tristan shook his head. "You have brought the winds of great change with you, Nimueh," he said, sounding almost amused. He leaned forward confidingly. "Tell me everything."
Gwen was glad to be rid of the datapad, as well as the information that she had gleaned from the Death Star’s database. It pleased Gwen to go back to her normal duties of looking after Morgana; she had no desire to be a spy for the Alliance. It was much too complicated, not to mention terrifying.
After Lord Tristan left to speak privately with Nimueh, Gwen followed closely at Morgana’s heels as she led the rest of them deeper into the sanctuary. They eventually came upon an empty antechamber, and settled into the chairs that had been scattered around the space.
Gwen sat on a stool at Morgana’s left, noting that Morgause took a chair on the princess’ right. Merlin and Arthur sat down in two comfortable-looking chairs across from them. There was a moment of awkward silence before Morgana spoke up. “From what I understand, the two of you have more than held up your end of the agreement that you made with Master Nimueh,” she said. “I understand that you were to be paid a significant sum when you delivered her and her companions to Alderaan.” She paused, a flash of pain crossing her features, and then continued, “Seeing as that is now impossible, I ask that you name what kind of payment you would prefer now. I have access to several royal accounts, unofficial ones that cannot be frozen or controlled by anyone other than myself.” She gazed at the two men. “How much do you require?”
Neither Merlin nor Arthur answered immediately. They glanced at each other and Gwen noticed how their expressions flickered and changed, almost as though they were having a conversation. After several moments, Arthur responded, “None.”
Morgana started in surprise, and stared at him. “What?” she asked. “But you have more than earned a reward. Rescuing me -”
“Was the right thing to do,” Merlin interrupted. He crossed his arms. “Your Highness, we only wish to help.”
“Why?” Morgause broke in, her tone almost suspicious. “This isn’t your fight.”
Again, the two men glanced at each other, and Gwen watched another silent exchange pass between them. “It is the fight of everyone who abhors injustice,” Arthur said at last. “If we or the Excalibur can be of use in battle, we offer our services.”
Silence descended on their group yet again. Then Morgana smiled slightly, almost shyly, in Arthur’s direction. “Perhaps you are not as mercenary as I thought, Captain Pendragon.”
Gwen watched Arthur eye Morgana, and groaned silently when his lips slowly twisted into an arrogant smirk. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
He continued to grin at Morgana. “It’s okay, Princess, you can say it. No need to be shy.”
Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Say what?”
“It’s obvious that you like me!” The resulting kick in the leg from Merlin did not alter Arthur’s expression in the slightest.
Her green eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in irritation. “Less and less by the second,” she snapped. Standing up, she marched toward the door. Gwen scrambled to her feet and hurried after her.
And things had been going so smoothly for the past few hours too, she thought. It had been too good to last, it seemed.
Merlin didn’t know what to make of Arthur’s behavior. On the Death Star, he’d left that observation area to rescue a princess, and had returned to the Excalibur intent on provoking said princess at every opportunity. Arthur, Merlin knew, liked a good argument as much as anyone - he could testify to that personally, with years of evidence to back him up - and he had always enjoyed a certain popularity with women. In their younger years, Merlin had found it almost revolting the way girls had thrown themselves at his foster brother’s feet, but by now he had become accustomed to it.
Which made Arthur’s behavior toward Princess Morgana all the more unusual. He had no need to metaphorically pull her braids to get her attention, and yet he seemed to relish doing so. It was all rather confusing, not to mention irritating.
After Morgana had left them in the little antechamber, Merlin and Arthur had chosen to return to the Excalibur, intent on doing further scans of the ship, just to ensure that it had not been damaged during its time onboard the Death Star. They assumed that the Imperials had tracked them back to the Rebel Base, but no matter how hard they looked, neither of them found any tracking device.
It was around the time of the moonrise that they heard the speaker system in the temple come on. “Attention all personnel, report to the briefing theatre immediately. I repeat, all personnel report to the briefing theatre.”
Merlin looked up from his current project - putting back together the hyperdrive - toward Arthur, who was making modifications to their shield generators. “Should we go?” he asked.
Arthur stood up, nodding but saying nothing, which made Merlin wonder at his motives. Still, it wouldn’t take long to finish with the hyperdrive later on. Once off the ship, they followed the majority of the people milling about the base, eventually coming to the theatre and finding a spot along the wall in the back to listen.
As people began to settle into chairs or elsewhere throughout the room, Merlin glanced around, looking for any familiar faces. He quickly spotted Princess Morgana and Gwen standing near the front. Morgause was near them as well, wrapped almost defensively in her brown cloak. It took a little more looking, but Merlin eventually found Nimueh, and saw that she was standing next to Lord Tristan, deep on conversation with the Rebel leader. At that moment, the lights dimmed and Merlin turned his attention to the front, where one of the Rebel officers was beginning the briefing.
Merlin was well-versed in mechanics and engineering - keeping the Excalibur in top shape required it - but much of the technical information went over his head. He did get the gist of the briefing though - the Death Star was nigh impregnable, but it had a single weakness: a small vent that led straight to the station’s core. A direct hit on that vent would set off a chain reaction that would cause the place to blow. The problem lay in getting to the vent, which meant getting past the station’s surface weapons, as well as their fleet of fighters.
It was a long shot, practically suicide. Still, when Merlin turned to look at Arthur, he saw that his foster brother was actually considering it! “Arthur,” he started, whispering furiously, “don’t -”
But Arthur raised his hand, cutting him off. They stood in silence, watching as the gathering broke up and all the pilots moved to take up their assigned fighters. “I have to, Merlin,” Arthur said at last. “I was meant to do this.”
“Meant to?” Merlin demanded incredulously. “Only few days ago, you were determined to set up shop somewhere other than Tatooine just to get away from Jabba. Now you want to go get yourself killed?” When he and Arthur had volunteered their services to Morgana the evening before, he had thought that it would be from the safety of the Excalibur, where they could make an escape if necessary. A fighter was virtually defenseless in this kind of fight.
Arthur stared at him. “Hunith always said to pick our fights carefully,” he replied simply. “This is right, like I’m meant to be here. What the Empire has done… it can’t be forgiven, and I can’t just sit by.” His gaze was piercing, his voice low and urgent. “You understand?”
Merlin gritted his teeth, annoyed. “Fine,” he ground out reluctantly, “but I’m coming with you. Someone has to watch -”
“No, you won’t.”
“What?”
Arthur shook his head. “You’ll stay with the Excalibur. Keep her ready to make a fast getaway if it comes to that. Take as many of them as you can,” he said. He paused, then added, “Make sure Her Highness is onboard. I didn’t risk my skin to get her off that station just to have her get herself blown up a day later.”
And just like that, the conversation was over. Merlin was left gaping as Arthur stepped forward to volunteer as a fighter pilot. He started after him, craving to talk Arthur out of this suicide mission. Merlin had not spent his whole life looking after his brother just to see him die - when a voice suddenly stopped him in his tracks.
Let him go, Merlin.
He frantically searched, and found Nimueh staring at him from her spot at Lord Tristan’s side. Her lips did not move, but Merlin still heard her voice. His path led him here. His destiny is here. There’s much you can protect Arthur from, but you can’t shield him from his destiny.
Let him go. Let him be his mother’s son.
Merlin blinked. What?!
Morgana watched, completely shocked, as Arthur Pendragon offered Lord Tristan his services as a pilot. The man confounded her like no other. He behaved like a child so much of the time, but occasionally, like last night when he had volunteered the Excalibur to assist the Alliance, there was a hint of something else in him. Something greater. Until he started claiming that she liked him, of all things.
Who was this man?
As shocked as she was, though, she did take note of Lord Tristan’s unusual expression. He seemed oddly reluctant to agree to Arthur being one of the pilots in the coming battle, though she could not understand why. Morgana had not said anything of her personal opinion of Arthur, so there really was no reason to turn down a prospective pilot. However, the look faded when Nimueh laid her hand briefly on Tristan’s arm and nodded encouragingly. The Alliance leader hesitated for another brief moment, but then nodded.
“Very well,” Tristan said at last. “I’ll have my officers assign you a fighter, provided you pass our flight simulators. You’ll take your orders from Master Nimueh,” he tipped his head to the Jedi Master, “who will be serving as Red Leader.”
Arthur nodded. “Yes, sir.” One of the other pilots, a young man Morgana recalled as one Owain Antilles, appeared then and motioned for Arthur to come with him.
She watched him leave the theatre and murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “I don’t understand him.”
Morgause, however, seemed to have heard her. She responded, “He is full of surprises. He was less than supportive of his co-pilot’s abilities, and yet he still agreed to assist in freeing you - someone he had never seen before in his life.”
“Quite the contradiction,” Morgana agreed.
The resulting scramble to prepare made the time pass quickly while they waited until the Death Star was spotted. Arthur’s guide, Owain, introduced him to several of the other pilots before directing him to the flight simulators.
“It’s pretty much just a formality for you,” Owain stated as he programmed the simulator. “We know you can fly, but it’s standard procedure to put all prospective pilots through the simulators.”
It was a formality. They threw the entire Imperial fleet at him, and he only lost twice. When Arthur came out, Owain and one of his other fellow pilots, Pellinor, were grinning at him. “You’ll fit in just fine, Pendragon,” Owain said cheerfully.
“Hey,” Pellinor said suddenly, “what’s with your surname? It’s the same as the Emperor’s.” There was no distrust in his voice, only curiosity.
Arthur shrugged. He had been asked about it many times in the past. “Coincidence, as far as I know,” he answered. “My foster mother never told me much about my biological family.”
The two men nodded. “War orphan?” Owain asked.
“I think so.”
The conversation probably would have continued, but for the intercom that suddenly flared to life. “Attention all personnel: Death Star has entered the system. Will be in firing range in fifty-five minutes. All pilots to their fighters.”
“Well,” Pellinor said, moving swiftly toward the door, “Time to go.”
Arthur followed the others, taking the jumpsuit they offered him. “You’ll be fine, ‘Dragon,” Owain said as they jogged down the corridors toward the hangar. “A point-oh-two rating? You stay with us and they’ll drag you up the ranks so fast your head will spin.”
Arthur laughed under his breath. Merlin would just love to hear that, not to mention Her Royal Highness.
Once they reached the hangar, Pellinor directed him toward the fighter just to the left of his own. As Arthur hurried up the ladder to the cockpit, he glanced around, and saw Master Nimueh a short distance away. She too was in a flight suit, her helmet under her arm. Morgause was with her, wearing an unhappy expression on her face.
“Are you sure about this, Mother?” Morgause asked yet again. “You haven’t piloted a fighter since the war -”
“It’s not something you forget, daughter,” Nimueh interrupted, amusement flickering across her features. “Besides, these models are very similar to the fighters I flew in. I am quite capable of handling it.”
Morgause continued to frown. She didn’t like this, not at all. The Jedi were the minority these days, her mother being one of the few masters who had managed to survive Uther’s act of genocide. What was Lord Tristan thinking, sending her up against that behemoth?
Nimueh’s fingers brushing under her chin caught Morgause’s attention. “I can do more up there than sitting down here waiting,” she explained, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
“Then why am I the one sitting down here and waiting?” Morgause shot back. She didn’t know exactly why she was making such a fuss, but her instincts were all over the place at the moment. This was going to be a difficult day.
“Because,” the older woman replied, “your first duty is still to Morgana. I know that Arthur Pendragon has told his co-pilot to keep a close eye on the battle. If things go badly, Merlin is to evacuate as many as he can onto the Excalibur, including the princess. You must stay with your sister. Train her one day, Morgause. When she is ready.” Nimueh’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “She will be vital to any future this galaxy has to face. She must survive.” Then just as quickly, Nimueh retorted and stared at her hard. “As must you.”
Morgause opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t get a chance. Nimueh just smiled at her, chucked her under the chin once more, and then turned to go up the ladder. Morgause watched her for a moment, and then turned away. She needed to get off the floor before the fighters could take off, and Morgana was in the control center.
Her sister had been left in her charge. It was a heavy weight, being responsible for the last of her blood kin. Morgause had never suspected that when she had stared up from the surface of Tatooine, longing desperately to be among the stars and to meet the family she had been separated from.
Part Six