Who Follow the Gleam: Chapter 1

[lily_handmaiden]

Major, major thanks to Bethany for being my beta reader and primary audience for this.

I've been working on this fic for a while, and I hope to keep working on it for quite a while, because it makes me happy. Don't judge me. I've always wanted to try an AU in which nobody goes horribly out of character (hopefully). This is my first earnest attempt. It picks up soon after 2.04, "Lancelot and Guinevere." I really think that if Morgana had confronted Merlin about her magic just one more time...

Title: Who Follow the Gleam
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Morgana (or hints thereof)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 6,098
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC. I mean no infringement.
Summary: AU season 2, post-"Lancelot and Guinevere." "Before he knew it, he was saying, 'You're not alone. I'm like you.'" Merlin and Morgana take destiny into their own hands.

“There is nothing on this earth can know all possible futures. … It was real, but it was just one reality. The future is as yet unshaped. It is we that shape it. It is you, Merlin—the decisions you make, the actions you take. Remember that.”-Gaius, “The Witch’s Quickening”

 

Chapter 1: Half Sick of Shadows

Not long after midnight, the last of the great clouds which had hung over Camelot all evening sailed past. In their wake, the sky sparkled with ineffable patterns of stars. The moon was uncovered, waxing toward full; its light shone square into the garret over the palace physician’s quarters, and Merlin woke up.

The young warlock groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. Finding this insufficient, he groaned some more and rolled over. In a moment he had successfully drifted into a light doze, and would soon have dropped back into dreaming, had he not heard the sound. It was very quiet—not Gaius moving around, because when Gaius got up, he shuffled. At first Merlin thought it was a rat. Then he thought it was probably nothing at all. Still, something kept him awake. The little feeling he got sometimes, the intuition he always associated with his magic, was drowsily nudging his brain. His body tensed and his senses strained in response.

There—he heard it again—on the very cusp of audibility. So, not nothing, then. Merlin sighed, got up, and crept down into Gaius’s quarters. The physician was sound asleep. No rats were immediately visible. Standing frozen in the middle of the floor, Merlin held his breath and listened. After what felt like five minutes, but could not have been more than a few seconds, he heard it again. It was coming from just outside the door. As his eyes darted in that direction, he thought he could see the handle, ever-so-slightly, move.

Merlin’s mind raced. In a flash he understood that there was someone on the other side of that door, someone who had been lurking outside Gaius’s quarters, and now that someone was coming in, and a patient would simply have knocked but this person was trying not to be heard, and he, Merlin, was standing square in the middle of the room with nowhere to dive for cover and no weapon to defend himself, and Gaius was going to be so mad if he used magic and got himself executed for it. Then, abruptly, the door’s handle rattled back into place. Merlin stood in consternation as light, hurried footsteps faded into the distance. What in blazes was that about?

If he had learned one thing since he had come to Camelot, it was that ignoring vaguely ominous things did not make them go away; it only allowed them the opportunity to reappear at full strength. One glance back at Gaius, still sleeping peacefully, and Merlin gave chase.

 The staircase leading downward appeared undisturbed. Merlin crept to the nearest window and peered into the all-but-deserted courtyard where, sure enough, a hooded figure was exiting the door below. From the volume of the cloak and the manner of movement, he judged it to be a woman. Merlin had only a few seconds to evaluate. If this was merely a patient who had decided to come back in the morning, further pursuit could be very embarrassing. If it was a sorceress who wanted to murder them in their beds, on the other hand, further pursuit could be very dangerous. The inexplicable feeling now going wild in his mind left him in no doubt that, regardless, what he chose to do next would be very important. While he was trying to figure out what, exactly, that would be, the cloaked woman happened to pause and look back up at the darkened tower windows. For just a second, the moonlight shone full on her face, and Merlin’s heart skipped a beat.

It was a sorceress. It was Morgana.

Merlin swore and plunged down the rest of the steps, half-flying, half-falling. Morgana, creeping about at night, heading across the courtyard to the town—to Merlin this could mean one thing only: she was running away, back to the druids. He had been watching her since she’d come back. He’d noticed the way she seemed to drift off sometimes during state occasions, a blank to everything and everyone outside herself; he’d noticed the way she gazed out the windows like a bird looks through the bars of a cage, and at Uther, when his back was turned, like he was her jailer. Small changes—he only noticed them because he understood, better than anyone, what she was going through. He’d seen her growing desperate and had been waiting, in a way, for something like this. So now it was up to him to stop her, and he didn’t know if he could.

He was so certain of Morgana’s motives that he did not sneak out after her—he sprinted. In his mind, he could already see Uther’s wrath falling on her and on those to whom she would flee. Uther would realize this time that she’d run away. Uther would not be understanding. He caught up with Morgana at the very edge of the courtyard, where the eaves of the outbuildings stretched their shadows onto the cobbles, and in his panic he did not scruple to grasp her arm before he’d even said a word.

The effectiveness of this tactic was somewhat diminished when Morgana gave a muffled scream and blindly elbowed him in the stomach, sending him sprawling. She spun around, wide-eyed and panting, her fists raised in front of her, and then she heard him groan, “Wait!”

“Merlin?” As he started to raise himself, she kicked him smartly in the shin. “You terrified me!”

“You can’t go!” he blurted.

“What?”

“Back to the druids! You can’t!” He scrambled back onto his feet. “I know you want to, believe me, I know how Camelot must feel for you now, but it—”

“I was going to see Gwen,” she interrupted, staring at him in something like shock. Merlin faltered.

“I, uh… oh. You… to see Gwen. Oh.” And he might have left it there, might have apologized profusely and slunk back to his room, vowing to just keep his mouth shut and stop meddling in Morgana’s business, if the moon hadn’t been shining so brightly. By its light, now that his panic was fading, he was able to get a good look at her for the first time that night. She hadn’t been kidding about being terrified; she was trembling. Then he thought, Why would she be going to Gwen’s at this hour, whatever hour it is? And why did she come to Gaius’s door? He put two and two together.

“Did… did you have another nightmare?”

At first he thought she might hit him again. She stiffened, and he could hear her breath catch.

“I don’t know.” The answer was almost a sob. Instinctively, Merlin reached out and took her hand, but she inhaled sharply and pulled it back, leaving a wetness on his palm. He glanced down, then up at her hand, which was clenched once again in a fist. Something dark was seeping between her fingers.

“You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s why—I heard you outside. You should’ve just knocked. I’ll wake Gaius and—”

“No!” Morgana took a step toward him. “I didn’t come for Gaius, I came for you. I need your help.”

“But—but Gaius knows much more about—”

“I don’t want any more potions! And I don’t want to be placated and told everything’s all right when I know it’s not! I need a friend. Please, Merlin.”

Merlin knew then that he was getting himself into a dangerous situation. The last time Morgana had asked him for help, he’d been within a few words of revealing his secret. He tried to summon Gaius’s voice to remind him of all the reasons why he should just go back to bed, but what he came up with instead was Arthur saying, You can’t be her friend, much less anything else. Maybe not anything else. But a friend was what she was asking him to be, and he thought he could manage that. At the very least, he couldn’t refuse.

“All right,” he agreed. “You’ll still need bandages, though. I’ll go get some and…”

“Don’t wake Gaius. Don’t tell anyone,” she said sharply, pleading.

“I won’t. And I’ll meet you…”

“Back in my chambers. Don’t knock, someone might hear you.”

“Right.” Merlin nodded. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” He bit back the urge to ask what exactly he had agreed to do. Morgana was hurt and scared, and that had to be taken care of first. He could deal with the rest as it came.

Morgana appeared to shake herself free, for the moment, from the grasp of whatever horror held her. She looked up into his eyes. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin smiled with more assurance than he felt and turned back toward the castle. He’d only gone a few steps when—

“Oh—Merlin—” He stopped and turned again. “Could you bring a broom?”

***

The reason for the broom became apparent as soon as he entered Morgana’s chamber. It had taken him longer than he’d expected—in addition to the bandages, he thought he’d better get supplies to clean Morgana’s injured hand, so he’d nearly woken Gaius up twice poking around in the dark, and then he’d tripped all over himself and nearly dropped everything every few feet all the way to her door. He went in cautiously, pressing the handle with his elbow and shouldering the door open. Even though Morgana had invited him in, he felt strange about just waltzing into her room in the middle of the night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow going to get in trouble for it.

Morgana’s head shot up as soon as he sidled in. She was seated on the edge of her bed, clutching some sort of towel at her chest, her legs curled up under her, looking very much like a child who has done something wrong and is waiting to be caught. There was glass everywhere. It crunched under his boots as he walked past the dining table. The windows opposite were blown inward, partly detached and hanging askew from their hinges. The panes were completely shattered. Merlin stopped and took it all in.

“What happened?”

Morgana frowned at him. “Take a guess, Merlin.”

Sometimes Merlin could almost forget that she and Arthur had grown up together, but vulnerable as she looked, she had never sounded so exactly like him. Even though he knew it to be unnecessary, he muttered, “Magic.” He leant the broom against the table and set the bandages and disinfectant on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I just…”

“I know. It’s okay.” He gestured with the basin in his hands. “Do you have a pitcher of water anywhere in here?”

“Under that nightstand there.” Morgana watched Merlin as he poured water into the basin. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

“Oh—sorry, I was—”

“No! I meant… I meant to thank you. You’re a good friend, Merlin.”

Merlin, carrying the basin back to the bedside, looked down to hide his blush. Then he got to the edge of the bed and blushed even more, because it occurred to him that, no matter what the circumstances, he really ought to have a specific invitation before joining the lady Morgana on her bed. He hesitated so long, standing over her with the water, that Morgana finally looked up and asked, “Are you going to sit down?” He deemed that good enough.

“Um, yes.” He sat, placing the water between them and wetting one of the cloths he’d brought. Up close, he could see that the towel Morgana held and the ends of her sleeves were stained with blood. At first he was afraid that she might have been cut too deeply for him to treat her on his own. But the towel had already slowed the bleeding, and when she presented her hands to him, all he saw aside from multiple small, surface scratches was a long—but fairly shallow—gash across her right palm.

Gently, he took her hand in his and began to clean it, picking out tiny fragments of glass stuck to her skin. Her fingers were cold and shaking. He wished he could warm them, but there was little chance of that between the cool water and his own chilled skin. Had he ever touched Morgana’s hand like this before? He doubted it, or he wouldn’t have been so stricken by the contrast: his hands were covered in calluses—so were his mother’s, so were Gwen’s. But Morgana’s were soft and delicate, so much so that he half worried he would roughen them just by holding them like this. They were a lady’s hands. Somehow, Merlin had never been more conscious of how far Morgana’s station was above his own than he was at that moment. He glanced up to remind himself that Morgana was still the Morgana he saw every day, but her long, dark hair curtained most of her face. She, too, was staring fixedly at their hands. Something about the repetitive, soft touch of the wet cloth on her palm must have been soothing, because he could feel her calming down by degrees. Her trembling slowed, and soon he felt only the occasional tremor pass through her body. He could hear her breathing deeply in the silence, and she stayed absolutely still until he had done the best he could with the water. Then the liquid from Gaius’s bottle stung her, and she flinched.

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered. “Gaius swears by it, though.”

“I know.”

He handed her another scrap of cloth. “Here. Hold on to this as tight as you can, and maybe it’ll have stopped bleeding by the time I’m done with the other hand.” For another moment, the only sound was dripping water. “So,” Merlin ventured, not lifting his eyes from her left palm, “do you want to talk about it?”

He felt Morgana tense, and looked up to see her staring at him like he’d just suggested they jump off the battlements together. “You can tell me,” he prompted. “I know you must want to tell someone.”

Morgana surveyed the glass-strewn floor and drew a shuddering breath. “It was an accident. I was dreaming. That’s how it started last time, too, with the fire.”

“Dreaming about what?”

“About Gwen.”

Merlin froze. “Something’s going to happen to Gwen?”

“You believe me?” Morgana’s eyebrows shot up. “I mean, that my dreams are…”

“Sometimes more than dreams? Well, you knew the Questing Beast would attack Arthur before it did. You knew about Sigan’s curse.

Morgana nodded. She shifted ever-so-slightly closer as she told him, “This is a dream I first had when Gwen had been taken by Hengist, and you were gone after her. She was burning. There was fire all around her. I’ve had it since… and the worst part,” she burst forth with sudden vehemence, “is that I don’t know whether it’s something that’s going to happen, or just a dream because I was so scared of losing her!”

“We were all scared. But don’t worry. Nothing’s going to be allowed to happen to Gwen. Whatever it is, we’ll stop it.”

“If we can.” Morgana’s eyes drifted back to the gaping window frames. “I woke up, and the windows blew open. I know that I did it, I could feel it. The latches broke.”

“And the glass shattered,” Merlin completed. But, with some trepidation, Morgana shook her head.

“I got up and shut them, and I came back to bed.”

“But… then how…?”

Morgana winced as he dabbed the disinfectant onto her left palm. “I couldn’t sleep. I started thinking—I’ve thought often since Gwen and I were ambushed—I could’ve prevented what happened. I know I could have. If I could control this power… I would have stricken each of those men down where they stood. I could’ve done it with a thought.” Merlin silently took the rag from Morgana’s right hand and began to wind one of the long bandages he’d brought from Gaius’s quarters around the largest cut. “And if I can’t control it, then what good is it? It’s worse than useless.” She watched Merlin for a moment, looking for some reaction, some look of disapproval. He kept his expression carefully neutral. Finally, she said, “I wanted to see if I could make it happen again.”

Merlin looked around him with a crooked smile. “Any luck?” Morgana gave him a withering glare, and he went back to tying off the bandage. “Sorry.”

“I just wanted to open them. At first, nothing happened. But then… they just exploded. I threw my hands up in front of my face… And then I put on my shoes and left. I couldn’t stay in here.”

“That sounds scary,” Merlin said carefully, wrapping a bandage around her left hand. He thought, I know it’s scary. When the power’s flowing through you and you happen to have just one wayward thought… but I can’t tell you. In fact, he could come up with nothing else that was safe to say, so he opted for silence. Which Morgana, then, misinterpreted.

“You’re thinking I shouldn’t have tried it. You’re right. I know. But what else am I supposed to do? You don’t know what it felt like to have to leave Gwen in the forest like that. If this dream comes true… If I lost Gwen, I’d have no one.”

“That’s not true!” Merlin insisted. “You have… you have Arthur, for one.”

But Morgana shook her head. “Arthur doesn’t see me anymore.” She added, bitterly, “All the better for him.”

“Well, you have me.”

“And you should hate me. I’m putting you in danger by even telling you this.”

He tied off the second bandage and shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Why?” Morgana looked at him with complete exasperation. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Why should I be afraid of you? Being different’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re a good person, Morgana.”

“Who just happened to shatter glass with her mind.” Merlin had no immediate response for this. “Everyone else is afraid of me—Arthur, Gwen, Gaius—I can see it in the way they look at me. You never look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to sprout another head. Like I’m a monster.”

“You’re not!”

“You see? I’m scared of myself, and you don’t even bat an eye. I really can’t figure you out, Merlin.”

He could feel her waiting for him to say something to that, but he didn’t. He was having trouble even breathing. Morgana was inches away from him, trusting him, putting her life in his hands, and she wasn’t stupid. She knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and if he wasn’t careful, she would figure him out. The best thing to do—what Gaius would tell him to do—was to walk away right now.

Except that, because she trusted him, because she’d put her life in his hands, and even because she was inches away, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. What do I want? The question dropped into his mind like a stone, spreading ripples to break up every other thought he had, but no answer arose.

Abruptly, Morgana stood and crossed to the table where he’d left the broom. She started sweeping up the glass in a sort of haphazard way that showed she’d probably never committed herself to such a task before in her life. The space between them felt like a reprieve; he could think better without her eyes trained on him, searching.

I need a friend. And he knew that feeling. He’d never been entirely without someone he could talk to about his magic, even if no one really understood. Morgana needed him to be that person, at least, for her. She needed him to listen. For the sake of their friendship, surely he could endure conversations like this one, could choke down the empathy he wanted to give her every day in favor of just a little sympathy that might make all the difference. He could. Probably. He could try.

“There’s something you have to tell me, Merlin,” Morgana said. Merlin jumped.

“What?” He was sure his voice sounded much too high.

“What makes you see magic the way you do? Anyone raised in Camelot—anyone who’d heard me say what I just said to you—would tell you it’s evil, but you don’t think like that.” Merlin was pretty certain he couldn’t speak if he tried. “You can tell me, Merlin. You know I’m in no position to tell anyone else. Are you connected to the druids?”

Merlin breathed again. This was a suspicion he could not only answer, but answer truthfully. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Oh.” A flash of disappointment in her eyes. “I just thought… well, you knew where to find them, and you brought Mordred here.”

“Coincidence. Mordred found me, and I got a druid off the arrest list to tell me where the settlement was.” He went to her and took the broom handle. “Let me. I’m the servant, after all.”

He started re-sweeping the area Morgana had attempted to cover, collecting the glass fragments into a neat pile. Morgana watched what he was doing for a moment, rummaged around in some drawers, and came back with what he guessed was some kind of hair or garment brush. She crouched on the floor and began brushing glass from around the foot of the bed into the pile.

“It’s because of Will, isn’t it? Your friend who was a sorcerer?”

Merlin thought about this and decided it was probably the best story he was going to be offered. “Yes. I guess so.”

Morgana brushed more glass onto the pile at Merlin’s feet. “Did Will ever do anything like this?”

“Yes. Wow, all the time.” Merlin thought back to his childhood, even up to his departure for Camelot, when his magic had been more spontaneous and impulsive. He felt a tiny stirring of excitement. Under this pretense, if he was careful, he could tell her all about himself without giving anything away. “He used to move things, mostly,” he began, hesitantly. “His mother would yell at him for sliding things around in his sleep. But he could also change time, mostly when something was falling. He didn’t have to think about it. Things would just stop. All he had to do was stroll up and do the catching. Or at least, that’s what he told me,” he added, glancing at Morgana. “He got a reputation in the village for being really fast that way, but I could always beat him in a footrace.”

Morgana had stopped sweeping. “It’s not the same,” she said. “His magic was harmless. It kept things from breaking. Mine just makes things break. All my magic has caused is destruction. I break glass, I set fires. Every night I dream of destruction. I just wish it would stop.” Her voice dropped. “Why is this happening to me?”

“It’s like you said once,” Merlin said softly, setting the broom back against the table and going to kneel beside her. “Magic chooses you. It’s not a punishment.”

“What if a bad magic chose me? An evil magic?” Morgana’s voice shook. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

“That’s not possible. Didn’t the druids tell you? Magic isn’t like that.”

“It isn’t a dark art. It can be used for good,” Morgana repeated.

“It just depends on the person who wields it.”

For a moment, Morgana was quiet. Then, finally, she did look up at Merlin, and her eyes held the same desperate, silent plea as on the night she’d come to him and begged him to put a name to her fear—to confirm that what she’d done was magic. “Then what if I’m bad? Somewhere inside? What if breaking things is all I can do, and it sees that? It knows—”

“No.” Merlin put his hand on her arm. “I’ve seen the way you are with ordinary people like me and Gwen. With Mordred. You’re not bad. You’re special. Morgana, you have a gift.”

“It’s not a gift if I can’t control it. How long before I hurt someone? How long before someone I love gets set on fire or blown to pieces—you or Arthur or Gwen? Surely it’s only a matter of time. Or one of you will get into trouble for something I’ve done, or for associating with me if Uther finds out. I know it would be better for you all if I just left—if I could go be with people who are like me. But if I go back to the druids, Uther will send men and dogs and massacre them all. So what do I do? I’m dangerous wherever I go.”

Merlin hesitated only a moment. “I want you to stay.”

Morgana took a calming breath and, with a nod of thanks, started halfheartedly sweeping again. Merlin didn’t want to leave her side, even to get the broom, so he sat silently, watching her. He hadn’t thought about this when he’d sent her to the druids. She had come back more certain of who she was, but without any idea as to why. She had ideas of what she could do, but she didn’t know how. Before she’d felt she was alone in Camelot; now she knew she was. He’d had Gaius and the Dragon when he’d felt like this. Who did Morgana have? You, he answered himself. Only stupid, tongue-tied you.

He asked, “What’re you going to tell Uther?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

This, at least, was something he could do. “I’ll say I did it. I’ll just tell him I threw something at your window from the courtyard.”

“No!” Morgana gaped at him. “Are you absolutely out of your mind? You’d be put in the stocks! Merlin, there are several things you could throw at my window that would get you executed! I won’t let you do it.”

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

Morgana fell silent for so long that Merlin thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she said, “I’ll tell him it was me.”

“What, you just smashed your own windows for the fun of it? From the outside?”

“What else can I do? Enough people have suffered because of my magic. If anyone’s going to accept the consequences, it should be me. And if Uther asks too many questions about how and why it happened…” She dropped her eyes back to the flagstones. “Then maybe I should just tell him.”

“No!”

“Then if Uther has me killed, at least I’ll die as who I am! I certainly can’t live that way!” The anger that flashed in her eyes held for a second longer. Then her hard expression crumpled and she turned away, as if to hide from him, as she furiously brushed tears off of her cheeks. “I’m so tired of being alone—I can’t bear it—I feel like I’m going mad.”

Merlin felt like something was crushing his chest. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. He just sat there like a dolt, watching Morgana cry. What could he do? What could he do that would ever be enough?

He knew there was only one thing. And that one thing was terrifying. 

In all honesty, he had no idea how long they stayed like that. He might have slowed down time involuntary, to let himself think, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about anything. Everything Gaius and the Dragon had ever said about Morgana and magic replayed in his mind, stinging and clear. The witch, the Lady Morgana… if Uther ever found out, things would never be the same again… it would be better if the witch never knew… you must never reveal your secret, not to anyone… He heard them, and he knew that they believed what they said to be true. Their warnings made sense. Logically, he understood. But another part of his mind, one that wasn’t logical—or maybe it was his heart—answered back, louder than Gaius, louder than the Dragon, more powerful than both combined: Not good enough.

And before he knew it, he was saying, “You’re not alone. I’m like you.”

Morgana looked to him with incredulous, tear-filled eyes. “How?”

Merlin took a deep breath and shut off his brain. “I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. I know you feel like you’re the only person in the world sometimes, that no one else really sees you, and if they did they’d never understand. You know who you are, but you can’t show anyone. It’s like even your friends aren’t your friends anymore because you’re holding something back from everyone, and you have no idea who to trust. You live a lie so much of the time, you feel like you don’t even know what the truth is anymore. You’re scared of what you can do and what you might do, what will happen if anyone finds out—and you hear that magic corrupts so much that you’re starting to believe it. But there’s a power inside you, and if you don’t use it, you’ll explode—if you can’t, you’ll lose yourself and die. You don’t know what it’s for, but it’s there. It’s part of who you are. And until you find out what its purpose is, you’ll feel like it’s using you, rather than the other way around. I know you how much wish you could be like everybody else. And you know you never will be.”

“How do you—”

“Because I’ve been lying to you. I’ve been lying to everyone since the day I came here. I… I never beat Will at a footrace in my life.”

“Merlin, what are you talking about?” Morgana’s tears had vanished. She looked horrified. He helped her to her feet and pulled her back behind the table, at a safe distance from the pile of glass. 

“Stand back. And watch.” He raised one hand, and said, “Brycas glæsene geedniwiað.” Every last fragment of glass flew back into the window frames. Within seconds, even the smallest cracks had fused and vanished. Then, “Gefegu betað.” The hinges and latches reattached, the latter snapping shut with a resounding click. 

Only then did Merlin turn around and see Morgana’s face. She stood across the room, frozen where he’d left her, staring at him as though she’d never seen him before. And he was a wilddeoren. Wearing one of her dresses. Her eyes were the size of fists. Finally, Merlin started thinking again, and his first thought was that he really, really wished he hadn’t done that. His second thought was that there was absolutely no way of undoing it now. 

“Ohh, Morgana.” He raised his hands and addressed her like a skittish horse. “Don’t scream. Please don’t scream. Please, please.” Morgana managed to blink, shut her mouth, and open it again. “Just… don’t wake anybody, please, and just please don’t tell Uther. Or Arthur. Or anyone else. Except Gaius—you can tell Gaius all you want, just please, right now, do not scream.”

Morgana blinked again, and slowly, in some way, she seemed to wake up. It was like watching the sunrise. A spark ignited somewhere deep within her, a feeble little candle flame, but soon he could see a light glowing in her eyes, and then even they couldn’t contain it anymore. A radiance to rival the moon itself shone through her very skin. Then she smiled. In two strides she was across the room and grasping Merlin’s hands as though she’d been drowning and they were her only link to the shore.

“Merlin,” she breathed, and she was still staring at him as though she’d never seen him before, but in a good way. A very good way.

The light in her eyes caught and spread through him, too. He’d never felt anything like it before. There was the incredible relief he always felt when he could share his secret with someone, but no one in the past, not even Gaius, had really understood. All of the words he had thrown at her, she had lived them, too. Morgana was like him. He was like Morgana. He could feel that his smile matched hers.

“You—all this time…”

“Yes.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”                                        

“How long?” she asked, and he knew what she meant.

“All my life. I wanted to tell you, you have no idea, but I couldn’t. I was scared to.”

“Yes. I know.” And he knew that she did. “Merlin,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I never saw…”

“There were so many times when I thought you’d figured it out.”

“Really?”

They both dissolved abruptly into giggles, like children sharing a secret. And all the time they never let go one another’s hands.

“So you can control your magic?” she asked him finally. “And you’ve been using it? Here in Camelot?”

“In emergencies.”

They sat down together on her bed and he told her everything, the words pouring out like water from behind a burst dam. Morgana listened while he told her about why his mother had sent him from Ealdor, where he was in danger of drawing too much attention, to Camelot, where sorcerers suffered public execution. He told her that Gaius had once been a sorcerer himself, and while her eyes briefly went wide again, she accepted it without a word. He supposed that, after what she’d seen him do, nothing else was going to shock her tonight. She sat, fascinated, as he explained how he’d ended up saving Gaius from falling, and Arthur from Mary Collins and Knight Valiant. The latter she jumped at eagerly.

“I dreamed that! I had a dream of him striking Arthur. You kept him from doing it… And that girl, Sophia—she did try to drown him? She did, didn’t she. Using magic?”

“Yes. She was a sidhe, trying to use his soul to get into Avalon, apparently, but Gaius caught on to what she was.”

Morgana’s short laugh sounded almost hysterical. She squeezed her eyes shut and murmured, more to herself than to Merlin, “It happened. It did happen. I thought—I really thought I was…”

“Losing your mind? You’re not.” He squeezed her hand a little tighter. Feeling the knotted bandage on her palm, he instantly loosened his grip again. “Sorry.”

But Morgana was too preoccupied to notice. “And you were the one who stopped her?” she asked, frowning. Merlin nodded. He could practically see her whole world rearranging itself inside her head. “But that means you’ve saved Arthur’s life at least three times since you’ve been at Camelot!”

“At least,” Merlin snorted. “It’s getting to be a fairly regular occurrence.” He glanced back over and noticed the way she was looking at him. “What?”

“How can you just take that in stride?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’ve got used to it. Seems it’s my destiny.”

Looking around, Merlin saw that the moonlight had been replaced with the grey of pre-dawn. He sighed. “I’d better go. Before the castle wakes up.” Morgana gave a tiny nod, but she didn’t let go of his hand. He thought about staying, making up something to tell Gwen—anything to put off parting. But he knew he’d been reckless enough for one night, and anyway Morgana would be there in the morning. And the morning after that and the morning after that. Gaius was right about one thing: things were never going back to the way they were before. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise. As soon as I can.”

Morgana screwed up a wry smile. “You’d better, or I’ll never believe all this was real.”

“Oh, it’s real. You can be sure about that.” Merlin released Morgana’s bandaged hand from his. His fingers felt the emptiness of the cold air. Only hours ago holding her hand had unnerved him with its strangeness; now it was strange to let it go. Just before he reached the door, she stopped him.

“Merlin, wait.” She was standing beside the bed. He thought that he would always remember her as she was in that moment—her hair down, her face half in shadow, her eyes burning like twin embers in the dark. “Will you teach me?”

No one in the town was stirring yet. The birds who had begun to chirp their dawn song fell silent. Just for an instant, Merlin, Morgana, and the universe held their breath.

“Yes.”

Chapter 2