FIC: She Dreams With an Open Heart (Arthur/Gwen, PG) 9/
She Dreams With an Open Heart
Rating: PG
Pairings: Gwen/Arthur, but very much a OT4 piece.
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the Beeb. Certain aspects of this from Doctor Who Series Five.
Summary: Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely. When a tragedy occurs, Gwen finds herself in a new kingdom, with no recollection of her life in Camelot. The presence of a mysterious person is triggering her memory, but meanwhile, an injured man turns up, whom she seems to have a great affinity for. But why is she here? Who is the person she keeps on seeing? And why can’t she remember a thing? AU after series two.
Prologue/ Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three / Part Four / Part Five/ Part Six/ Part Seven/ Part Eight/ Part Nine/ Part Ten
He stares up at the sky. Dawn is creeping up and he can see the sun wishing to rise up from the world below.
He closes his eyes and lets the cool air infuse into his skin and lungs. The air seems different in Souhaiter, he realises. Somehow, it’s less tainted.
When he opens his eyes, he exhales deeply. Arthur had just fought in a war but he knows he is about to endure his toughest test yet, even if he knows nothing of what to expect next. For all he knows, Morgana won’t make another appearance and he’ll never see her again, but it’s just as likely she is biding her time and waiting to exact her revenge on him, using Gwen as a tool. As much as he’d like to hope that the latter isn’t a possibility, he really doesn’t know where he stands with Morgana right now.
There’s a change in the air- a sudden feeling of awareness that causes Arthur to start. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what it is. And then he realises.
“You can come out,” he drawls. “I know you’re there, Morgana.”
He waits a few moments, looking around, but no one appears. He frowns, knowing he hadn’t misread the sense of the magic in the air- which could only be from her.
“You don’t have to hide,” he says to the air, by way of offering. “Please,” he adds as an afterthought, although he’s not sure she deserves such a courtesy.
Something causes him to turn around.
And there she stands behind him.
The only light available is the light from the pending sun that is painted across the horizon. He can make out the outline of her cloak and let-down hair, but he is unable to read anything about her.
“Arthur,” she greets. Her voice lacks all of the venom and anger that filled her voice the last time they met, but it doesn’t convey weakness or submission.
“Morgana.” His own voice is curt and laced with just a hint of suspicion.
“I see you found out that I was here,” she muses.
“Yes,” he answers. “Although I was most surprised to hear Guinevere tell me this. I must admit your presence here baffles me.”
“I suppose it would suit you better to find me elsewhere else: killing hordes of people and dancing with the Devil, perhaps?”
“The last time we met, you were trying to kill me, so that would suit the image that I have of you, yes.”
“Would you believe that I’ve renounced that particular lifestyle?”
“No,” he replies honestly.
He can just about see her one-sided smile and watches as she nods, knowing her well enough that she wishes him to question her about her motives. But he can’t, not just yet. He breaks her gaze and moves so he’s slightly closer to her.
“I suppose it was you that brought me to Souhaiter.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Her smile grows wider. “I am a sorceress, Arthur. Of all things, I thought you knew that much.”
“I was on death’s doorstep. I thought you would have wanted that.”
Something indeterminable flashes on her face. “You thought wrong.”
He ignores this. “How did you know Guinevere was here?”
“I followed you and Merlin here when you brought her here. I’ve been here ever since.”
He frowns. “We didn’t notice anyone following us.”
“I am a sorceress,” she reminds him again.
The question of why she followed them is on the tip of his tongue, but still he refrains from asking it.
He’s scared of what she might say.
“You’ve been talking to Guinevere,” he states.
“Yes,” she replies.
“You caused her to dream and for her memories to be restored.”
“I helped restore them, yes.”
Arthur shakes his head. “Merlin erased her memories. It shouldn’t be possible.”
“Nothing is ever truly forgotten, Arthur, not completely. You can wipe the mind clean, but never the heart. My presence and the flowers I gave Gwen prompted her, but the rest was all her doing.”
Arthur tilts his head up to the sky, suddenly overcome with emotion. The idea that part of Gwen never truly forgot him is overwhelming.
“So why did you come here?” he demands. “Why did you want her to remember?” His tone is accusatory and Morgana picks up on this immediately.
“I suppose you think I have some ulterior motive? That my helping her to remember is part of some evil plot I have against you?”
“You killed her, Morgana! So forgive my suspicions that you might do it again.”
“It was unintentional!” she cried. “I never meant to hurt Gwen!”
“But you did.”
“And you erasing her memories, that wasn’t hurting her?”
“That was different. I did it for her own protection.”
“You did it for your own protection!”
Arthur winces. “What I did was wrong,” he concedes after a few moments. “But at least she was safe here. Or at least I thought she was safe here.” He casts her a glance that leaves no doubt to his meaning.
He sees the slight clenching of her fists by her side. “You don’t understand, do you Arthur?”
“Quite frankly Morgana, when it comes to you , there is a lot I don’t understand.”
She briefly closes her eyes. “I meant it when I said I had renounced my previous lifestyle.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything; instead, he waits for her to continue.
“Of all the people I hated, Gwen was never one of them. There are a lot of reasons to lose faith and turn to darkness, but she was the only person who fought to keep me from doing so. She never dismissed me like you did, she never ignored my frantic calls for help nor did she ever send me away when I was trying to intervene and save your life-,”
Arthur cringes in embarrassment when he recalls the incident in which he dismissed Morgana running after him and telling him not to leave Camelot that day.
“- she suspected the powers I harnessed but didn’t try to pity me like Merlin, nor did she deny them. Gwen didn’t make me feel trapped and she didn’t make me feel angry about something that I had no control and no help over. So even when I turned to Morgause, I had no intention of ever causing Gwen harm.”
“By seeking to kill Merlin and myself, you would have effectively destroyed Gwen. You would have torn her world apart and hurt her as if you had struck her physically,” he cuts in.
Morgana shakes her head. “I didn’t think like that. I was just...I was so angry! At you. At Merlin. I hated both of you that it was enough to sustain the darkness flowing through my veins.”
“Why?” he questions, and it strikes him that even now, he has no clue of the reasons for for her hatred.
“Because you were never there for me!”
The accusation in her voice is so strong, he feels as if she’s hit him.
“You were too busy heeding your father’s words or running off on some mission or other and even consumed with your feelings for Gwen that you never even noticed that I was changing and having trouble coming to terms with it.”
“That’s not true!” he says, but his words seem feeble even to his ears and he realises that Morgana is right. He was never there for her, not the way he should have been.
“I’m not trying to excuse my actions, but you have to understand where I am coming from. My powers were manifesting themselves and I had no one to turn to. Your father would have had me killed if I had told him-,”
“My father loved you. He would never have done!” Arthur protests.
“I used to wish for that,” Morgana muses. “And even now I have my doubts to whether he would have done so or not. Even if he would have accepted me, the fact of the matter is that he killed so many people just for being magical. People who couldn’t help who they were. Uther’s hypocrisy and unfounded hatred was suffocating and the more I learnt about what he done, the more I couldn’t abide by him and my hatred festered.”
Arthur feels himself bristle at her words. “Well he’s dead now,” he begins brusquely. “Morgause made sure of that.”
Morgana looks away. “I know,” Her voice is quiet. “I heard about that.”
Neither say anything for a few moments, too lost in their thoughts about the wayward king.
“My father may not have been perfect, but you were like a daughter to him,” Arthur eventually says. “I’d like to think... I’d like to hope that even though your view of him is tainted, that you at least saw him as a father to you-that you have at least a few good thoughts about him.”
Morgana doesn’t speak, but the dampness he glimpses in her eyes is answer enough for him.
“You could have confided your powers in me, you know,” Arthur says. “I would have listened, even if I had been preoccupied.”
“You would have run away,” she says dolefully. “Or denied it. You wouldn’t have been able to accept that I was magic. I am even willing to bet that when you eventually learnt that I was magic, you had trouble accepting it.”
“I thought that maybe Morgause had made you that way,” he admits.
There’s a ghost of a smile on Morgana’s lips. “How like you to believe the best in me.”
“If you had told me, I would have been shocked, I agree. But I would never have believed you would do bad with your magic. I would have wanted to help you.”
“You would have found a way to make me back to ‘normal’ again, because my powers would have scared you.”
He does not deny this.
“Even so,” Morgana continues. “I was scared to tell you. All I saw when I looked at you was your father. I thought you would have inherited his views about magic.”
“I am not like my father,” he is quick to point out. “Merlin, Gwen and even you strived to make me a better man than him. I thought you would have realised that.” He pauses. “It seems there was a great distance between us that I never did see.” The thought makes Arthur sad. He always used to be on the same wavelength as Morgana, even when they spent their time bickering. When did things change?
There’s a look in Morgana’s eyes that makes him think she’s wondering the same thing.
“I wish I could have saved you,” he laments.
“My actions could not have been saved by a simple helping hand, Arthur. You and Merlin, you both thought that by willing to protect me any way you saw fit, everything would have been okay. You think that if you had made a choice for me, things would have turned out differently.”
Arthur doesn’t understand what she means. “You wouldn’t have had to deal with this alone,” he points out.
“It’s not just that, Arthur! It’s about choices. Merlin knew about my magic and could have been a great confidante for me, but he chose to deny my magic and not talk about it as if it would have made the situation better. Worst still, it turns out he’s a sorcerer and a great one and that, who could have offered me guidance when I needed it the most. Instead, it was Morgause who had to show me how to use my magic and keep it under control.” Her voice is intoned with bitterness. “And I had to learn about Merlin’s magic from second-hand sources. His magic was his secret to keep, but I was never given that choice about mine. He promised to help me, knew what I was going through and left me to flounder at the worst possible time.”
Arthur hesitates. The subject of Merlin is a tricky area to navigate, for he knows too well of the mistakes his friend made.
“He regrets it, you know. He regrets not telling you about his magic and he regrets...” he trails off, not sure how to broach this topic. “He regrets poisoning you.”
He sees the pain that flashes across Morgana’s face at the memory of this incident.
“He regrets poisoning me?” Her voice is sardonic. “He almost killed me and he regrets it?” The well-poised facade that Morgana has maintained throughout their conversation threatens to break.
“I am not trying to defend Merlin’s actions. In fact, I wasn’t exactly happy when I found out what he did. But speaking as someone who was desperate and made a foolish choice, I know where he’s coming from. And I know that he’s spent every day wishing he could undo it all. I know that means next to nothing, but I hope it counts for something.”
Morgana closes her eyes tightly and doesn’t open them for a while. The sun begins to rise, throwing streaks of red and orange across the sky and setting Morgana against a background of colour. He sees her for what she really is, and it isn’t a woman consumed of evil and hatred, but rather a girl full of vulnerability, struggling to be something stronger.
“I can’t forget,” Morgana says, finally opening her eyes. “I have nightmares about what he did to me, and yes, that definitely fuelled my decision to remain with Morgause. I hated him for poisoning me, was beseeched with a need to seek revenge. But I don’t hate him anymore. I don’t hate either of you anymore.” She pauses for a moment. “I felt an affinity for Morgause the moment I met her, and she offered me what none of you could: answers. I was not lured by her; it was my choice to side with her and when Merlin did what he did and Morgause took me away, I never felt compelled to return to Camelot. Then I found out she is my sister and suddenly it was as if I had a path to follow. Morgause led a seductive lifestyle, one that she urged me to imitate. She helped me channel my magic and gave me no limitations and it made me feel invincible. That sort of power is all-consuming, Arthur, and I allowed myself to become swept up by it. It was as if I was in control and I could determine my fate and the fates of other’s and I took no greater pleasure than putting an end to the people who so badly wronged me.”
Arthur simply nodded, Morgana’s words too difficult to comprehend.
“I thought I was making the world a better place, by ridding it of those who sought to endanger those of magic and I had no qualms about bringing about the downfall of Camelot- not one. I fought you and Merlin and felt absolute in my motives. And then Gwen came running out and I killed her instead of you.”
“You felt guilty,” Arthur states.
“It was the first real emotion I’d felt in a while. When I saw her fall down, everything I believed in came crashing down with her: my anger, my motives... they seemed irrelevant in comparison to Gwen’s life.”
“So afterwards, you decided to relinquish your life with Morgause?”
“It no longer mattered to me.”
“And what did she make of that? Morgause is a determined woman, used to getting her own way. I doubt she would have been pleased that her sister and protégé deserted her.”
“Morgause was not pleased, but the battle with Camelot was a more pressing issue for her. She believed that she could persuade me after she had done what she needed to do, but I left Camelot and made sure she could not trace me.”
Morgana’s face is impassive, but Arthur knows it couldn’t have been easy to sever ties with someone who had such a hold on her and who was the only blood relative she had left in the world.
Arthur nods. “Merlin was to fight Morgause.”
Morgana averts her gaze. “I do not know the outcome.”
“But if Morgause was defeated?”
Morgana takes a while to answer. “Morgause is my sister and I thank the heavens every day for bringing her in to my life and giving me guidance. But Morgause is a vengeful woman and she feeds on power like others feed on love and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.” She takes a breath. “I know in order to restore order to Camelot and indeed Albion, Morgause must be overcome.” She tilts her head up to the sky and sighs. “And I also know the evils she has committed on her path. Morgause may be my sister and I may have been enamoured with her and her lifestyle, but none of that is important to me anymore. She doesn’t know me like Gwen, and though she is blood, you’ve been a brother to me a lot longer than she’s been my sister.”
Mentally, Arthur weighs up whether he believes her or not. She seems sincere and there’s a part of Arthur that desperately wants Morgana to be genuine. But his mind regales him with visions of Morgana a year ago, and he can’t forget all the bad things he’s heard about what she’s done. And yet, he remembers a time when he sat with Gwen on a quiet afternoon, and she had talked about penance and redemption. Despite wanting Morgana back, even then Arthur had wondered if someone who had turned to evil could ever be converted back, but Gwen had believed it of Morgana and her faith in her friend was infectious.
Arthur nods and not knowing how to answer her, he steers the conversation in a different direction. “So you have been out here this last year, looking out for Gwen?”
Morgana allows herself to smile fully then, and Arthur sees the softness and affection that greets her eyes. “Yes.”
Arthur frowns. “But Gwen said she only saw you a few weeks ago.”
Morgana shrugs. “I have been here all year, concealing myself. I have a dwelling in the forest where I am able to retreat, but I have spent most of my time watching out for Gwen and making sure she is okay. When you and Merlin brought her here, I did not realise you had erased her memories. Not too long afterwards, I approached her, but she had no recollection of who I was, and a little digging later, I found out she had no memories of her life in Camelot. I was shocked when I realised what you two had done.”
“It was my decision,” he says grimly. “And an abominable one at that.”
She looks at him with sympathy. “As awful as it was, I understand, Arthur, and if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to make that decision in the first place. Anyway, I admit that I was desperate for Gwen to remember who she was. But it was apparent to me that to make her remember would have been disastrous and led to irreparable damage to her mind if she was not ready to recall, so I waited. I was there by her side when she picked flowers, keeping her company even if couldn’t see me. I was there whispering words of encouragement when she first handled the noble people and peasants here, and I was the one who filled the gaps in her memory and those of others of her fabricated life when Merlin had not thought to do so. When she was comfortable and settled, I retreated, but was always keeping an eye out for her. Every mirror that she looked into, every reflective ornament that she passed, I was always there looking out for her and waiting for her to really see me. And then a few weeks ago, she looked into the mirror and finally saw me and I knew she was ready to remember her life.”
“So you visited her?”
Morgana nods. “And I gave her flowers that she connected with her life back home.”
Arthur frowns. “How did you know that they would work?”
“I didn’t. But Gwen, she has the biggest heart of anyone I know. The kind of heart that loves grandly and irrevocably; the kind of heart that is so imprinted with love that it can’t forget the people who put it there. And Gwen loves flowers so much that I thought if I gave her flowers that reminded her of each of us, then maybe they would be strong enough to evoke her memories- that her heart would be able to find a way to connect to her mind.”
“By dreaming?”
“Yes, by her dreaming.”
“I’m impressed, Morgana. That was some plan.”
She grins, and it reminds him of the mischievous Morgana of yesteryear.
“Why did you want Gwen to remember?” he wonders. “What if she remembered what you did?”
“My reasons for wanting her to remember are purely selfish. I wanted my best friend back and I wanted to start anew with her. If she had remembered what I had done, then it would have been my chance to let her know how sorry I was. How sorry I am.”
“Why did you rescue me and bring me here? How did you know I was dying?”
“I observed you,” she answers. “Not as closely as I did Gwen. But occasionally I would scry with crystals, just to see how you were doing. When I saw you lying on the battlefield, I knew I had to intervene.” Her eyes flash with intensity. “I wasn’t going to let you die this time.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. But then his eyes lock on to hers and he says, “Thank you,” with complete gratitude etched on his face.
“I know that what has to come next- you telling Gwen and finding out what has happened to Camelot - will be a challenge to you, and I know that my bringing you here of all places is questionable, but the last two years have been so hard on you, Arthur. I can see it emanating from you in waves: you look much older than your years and your body screams for a decent night’s sleep. I know how much your heart aches for what has been done, and I thought that by bringing you here, you could make amends. You don’t deserve to live in hardship forever.”
He smiles at her then, revelling in the fact that maybe, just maybe, she has returned to him- to them after all.
“I thank you, Morgana. Without you, I would be dead.”
“Because of me, you were in that position in the first place.”
Arthur shrugs. “With Morgause as an adversary, it was inevitable Camelot would face such disaster.” He pauses for a moment. “I guess the question is, what will you do next?”
Morgana hesitates. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I wish to be with Gwen, wherever she chooses to be. But my loyalties lie with you, should you need an ally back home. But I’m not sure if I’m ready to face-,”
“Your sister?” he cuts in.
She nods. “And Merlin.”
“I understand.” He turns his head to the direction of Gwen’s house, which lies several feet away from them. The house glows against the backdrop of the forest and rising sun behind it and Arthur lets out a sigh of trepidation. “Maybe we should go and see if Gwen is awake. She’ll be wondering where I am.”
Morgana nods again, and silently they walk up to the house, the two of them lost in thought. But when they get there, Arthur is shocked to find the front door ajar, and further inspection reveals that Gwen is not in her bedroom.
Part Ten