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lily_handmaiden) wrote2010-09-10 09:57 pm
Who Follow the Gleam: Chapter 2
Today has been a successful day of teaching Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (the second section was pretty much a Morgan le Fay party, which was awesome) and finding out that one of my students is also a Merlin fan (professional fangirl squeeing is professional... or perhaps not). Now I want to get one more chapter of this story posted before tomorrow's premiere. For which, let me say, I am SO EXCITED.
Thanks again and again to Bethany for beta reading and being generally wonderful.
Title: Who Follow the Gleam
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Morgana (or hints thereof)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5,871
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.
Chapter 2: Reverdie
Morgana lay awake long after Merlin left her and watched the dawn break through the windows which, only hours before, had been nothing but gaping frames. From this position she’d seen the sun rise on countless mornings, afraid to go back to sleep and relive whatever nightmare had jolted her into waking terror. Instead, she would cling to the reassuring mundanity of her surroundings, counting the items on each table over and over again, waiting for the light to creep across the floor and take the shadows away. In the daylight, it was easier to convince herself that everything might be all right.
Now she felt the same eager straining towards day, the same stubborn wakefulness, but everything else was different. For once, Morgana was not afraid of dreaming. She was afraid that if she closed her eyes for even a moment, she would wake up to find glass littering her floor. She was afraid that the most real experience she had ever had would vanish into the first good dream she could remember. It was all so unbelievable—Merlin, Arthur’s servant, Merlin, the boy from Ealdor, Merlin who barely knew which end of a sword was which, Merlin had magic!
There had always been something different about him, a quality that called out to something inside her, and now she knew what it was. In her mind, she ran through every encounter she could recall having with him, searching for those moments when he’d thought that she must have known, asking herself, Was there any clue? More and more she remembered looks he’d given her, times she’d wondered how he had managed, things she thought she’d seen out of the corner of her eye and then dismissed. Because it was Merlin. And no matter how much evidence she assembled, no matter how she could still feel the way his hands had held hers, she couldn’t convince herself it wouldn’t all fly away with the night.
So she kept her eyes fixed on the golden sky over Camelot, and when finally the light touched her skin, she breathed it in with an intense relief. She rose to stand by the window, letting the daylight warm her, cover her, fill her by degrees. The window pane under her fingers was smooth and cool and whole. You’re not alone. I’m like you. The very blood in her veins seemed to sing, Not alone, not alone, louder with every passing moment. Enveloped in her sunrise, Morgana looked out on a world in which she was not alone, and she let herself believe that it was real.
***
Merlin didn’t go back to sleep that night, either. How could he? He was wide awake, his mind was racing. Besides, he was pretty sure that sleeping would mean he’d have to stop smiling, and he didn’t think he could do that.
He had told someone. He’d told Morgana. And he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, not even a little bit. There had always been a handful of people who’d known about his magic—his mother, Will, Gaius, Lancelot—but still there’d been the sense that he was looking for something more, something they couldn’t give. He’d been waiting his whole life to find someone who was like him, and he’d found her here, in Camelot of all places. So of course he’d agreed to help her—he had to.
He knew he should be scared right now of what could happen to both of them. But Uther’s single-mindedness and the words, “the witch Morgana” felt distant and non-threatening. Sometime in the pre-dawn hours, the whole world had opened up, and it was humming with possibility. The future, luminous and tangled, was in his hands—his and Morgana’s—to shape however they could. Nothing was certain. Nothing was impossible.
For a while, Merlin even entertained the possibility that he would march downstairs for breakfast and announce to Gaius, “Lovely day, hope you slept well, by the way I told Morgana about my powers last night.” This did not last beyond the moment he actually saw Gaius’s face.
“You’re up early, Merlin.” Suspicious already, at this hour. Merlin honestly didn’t know where he found the energy.
“Yeah. I woke up a while ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“Something on your mind?”
“No. There was no reason.”
“And yet you seem strangely happy about it.”
Merlin shrugged. “Just… good dreams, I guess.”
He pretended not to notice Gaius’s raised eyebrow and applied himself to his toast. Still, it wasn’t difficult to feel more subdued beneath his mentor’s watchful gaze. He would have to decide what to tell Gaius about the previous night’s adventures, and now his mind turned in earnest to what the reaction might be. First, of course, would come the yelling, but then? After all, what was done was done, and Gaius couldn’t un-tell Morgana what Merlin had told her. His eyes slid over to the rows of potions lining the shelves. Well—he probably couldn’t.
But he could ship Merlin back to Ealdor. His mother had sent him straight to Camelot when she found out Will knew, and destiny or not, he could easily believe that Gaius would do the same thing. And even if he was allowed to stay, Gaius could find ways to keep him and Morgana apart. He’d promised to help her. It was a huge risk to take.
But how was he to teach Morgana without Gaius’s help? He didn’t know the first thing about how magical knowledge used to be passed on. What if he did it wrong? It would be better if the witch never knew, the Dragon’s voice whispered to him once again. Whereas Gaius had been a sorcerer once, and anyway, Merlin was so bad at keeping secrets from him.
“Gaius…” he ventured. The physician looked expectant. “What if… what would you think if… I mean, what do you think about…” He was in the middle of the sentence before he’d figured out how he was going to end it. He panicked. “…the stables?”
“The stables,” Gaius repeated.
“Yeah. The state of them. Do you think Arthur’ll ask me to clean them today? Because I really don’t want to.”
He couldn’t do it. He’d started out all wrong, and then it was like he’d lost control over his mouth entirely and words just kept coming out. He needed time to figure out exactly the right thing to say to make Gaius understand. Later. He’d deal with it later. Right now, it was a beautiful, clear morning, and Morgana was waiting.
***
When Gwen came in, Morgana was still at the window, dreamily tracing her finger across the surface of the glass. It wasn’t unusual for her to be up before her maid arrived, especially when the nights had been bad. So, as they exchanged good-mornings, Morgana wondered what could be behind Gwen’s surprised expression—until, that is, she said, “You seem… happy today.”
Morgana nearly replied, Is it really that unusual? But, reviewing the recent past, she acknowledged that it probably was. Life at Camelot hadn’t been easy for her of late, especially not since the druid camp. She realized that she may have been making things harder for Gwen as well, but she vowed that she would make up for it. It would be simple, because everything was different now. Gwen could already see that the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders overnight; that was a start.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Morgana said, and Gwen returned her smile. “The white dress today, I think, Gwen. With the silver trim.”
She retired behind the screen, and Gwen handed the gown over to her, asking, “Something planned for the day?”
“Not really. I thought I’d just stay in.” At least until Merlin came. She had no intention of leaving her chambers at the wrong time and missing him.
“On a day like this?” Gwen asked. “You just said yourself—it’s beautiful. And you’re wearing your best dress. I mean, you can wear whatever you like, obviously. It just seems a shame to put it on with no one around to see.”
“Oh.” She stood in her shift, holding the white-and-silver gown in front of her, biting her lip. It was true—usually she only wore it if there was an occasion. She’d chosen it for today without thinking about it, merely to suit her mood. And why not? she asked herself. So what if I want to get dressed up just for the hell of it? Just for… for Merlin? Well, he was certainly the only person she wanted to see today, and the idea of getting dressed up for her empty room was even more absurd. Was she really putting on her best dress to impress Merlin? No—no, of course it wasn’t that, not exactly to impress Merlin, even if he was so much more than he’d seemed to be yesterday. It was just that today was an occasion. It marked her secret entrance into a new way of living, and she wanted to meet it looking beautiful. She was getting dressed up, really, for her magic. She smiled to herself and slipped the dress on, calling back to Gwen, “Well, at least I won’t get it dirty if I stay in my chambers.”
She heard Gwen laugh, but when she came out from behind the screen to have her fastenings done up, she found her maid examining the robe she’d just taken off in consternation.
“What’s gotten on these sleeves?” Gwen asked. Morgana stopped where she stood. Last night, when she’d been bleeding—she’d almost forgotten.
“I’m sure it’ll come out with cold water,” she dodged, holding her hair away from the back of her dress, hoping to get Gwen’s attention on something else. Unfortunately, what caught Gwen’s attention just then was the bandage around her outturned palm.
“What did you do to your hands?” She looked alarmed.
“It’s nothing.”
Gwen frowned down at the sleeve again. “Oh my—this is blood, isn’t it.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“But how did it happen?”
Morgana hesitated only a moment. “I… broke a vase.”
“You… what?” Gwen blinked, looking uneasy. “Broke it how?” Morgana could guess too easily what Gwen was thinking: she was remembering the last broken vase the room had seen—shattered on a tabletop, and her mistress too distraught to offer a satisfactory explanation. She wished it had occurred to her to think of a cover story between Merlin’s departure and the dawn, but she’d forgotten all about her cuts and scrapes—she could swear they’d even ceased to hurt until now—in the face of the revelation of Merlin’s magic. For Gwen’s sake, though, she could at least make something up as she went this time.
“I got a vase out of my cabinet this morning, and then I tripped and fell and it shattered in my hands. Silly, really.”
“Good Lord! Where’d it happen?”
Morgana gestured vaguely. “Over there. Why?”
“The glass,” Gwen answered, in a tone that implied obviously. “We can’t just leave it lying around. I don’t want your feet cut to ribbons as well.”
“Oh—that. It’s already taken care of.”
“Really? By whom?”
Forcing herself to keep a straight face, she replied, “Merlin.” With little hesitation, she proceeded to invent a version of events in which she’d gone to the physician’s quarters to find Gaius still asleep; Merlin, already awake, had swooped in, patched her up, cleaned the floor, and returned from whence he came, all before Gwen’s arrival. Gwen took hold of Morgana’s left hand to look more closely.
“Merlin did this?” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, it was very nice of him. He’s very considerate that way. But, well, don’t you think you should have Gaius look at it? Just in case?”
Morgana drew her hand back. “I think,” she said carefully “we all ought to give Merlin more credit. I trust him.”
“Perhaps you’re right. I didn’t mean…”
“I know you didn’t. And besides, I meant it when I said I’m staying in here today.” She held her palms up. “People talk about me enough already.” And that part, at least, was true. More and more since the Questing Beast, since Sigan and since the fire, she heard the whispered rumors that she’d gone off the deep end. Some were speculating that it was an effect of the brain fever she’d had late last spring—Uther had kept quiet the fact that that ailment had been both caused and cured by magic. Sometimes she would enter a room only for its occupants to fall into awkward silence until they imagined she was out of earshot. The more malicious spoke of “hysterical episodes” and “violent outbursts,” barely even bothering to lower their voices when she walked by. “I really don’t want people wondering what I’ve done to myself this time.”
Gwen turned somber. “Of course not.” She picked up the robe again and folded it over her arm. “I’ll just wash this out at my place so the laundry maids don’t see.”
Morgana thanked her, moved all at once to see Gwen so willing to go to so much trouble. The dream that had brought Merlin and his magic to her last night leapt into her mind, and she shivered. It won’t happen, she told herself firmly. It was just a dream. Merlin wasn’t afraid of it. Merlin and I, once I’ve learned—we won’t let it happen. The thought thrilled her, sent a warmth through her body from her toes to the roots of her hair, and for the first time in a long time, she felt in control. Merlin and I, with our magic.
When Gwen was gone, Morgana opened a cabinet, removed a small glass vase, and carried it to the window. Her maid could be meticulous, and so it was best to make her cover story as authentic as possible. After considering for a moment, though, she concluded that the courtyard was too crowded now to drop it without the risk of its landing one someone’s head. Her fingernails drummed on the windowsill. Finally, she went back to her bedside and tucked the vase into the narrow gap between her mattress and headboard, well out of sight.
Tense with excitement, she sat down to wait.
***
Merlin had a plan. He was up early enough that Arthur was almost sure to be still asleep, which normally would be an excuse to put off his responsibilities and laze about his room for a while. Today, though, he was eager to be out of Gaius’s company and into Morgana’s. He wanted to speak to her, even if only for a moment, before he saw anyone else. He would tip-toe breakfast into Arthur’s room, lay out his clothes, and be gone without disturbing the slumbering prince. This would take care of his morning duties and leave him at least an hour with Morgana before Arthur started bellowing that his food was cold. It was a good plan. And so, naturally, Arthur had to go and spoil it.
As soon as he carefully opened the door to Arthur’s chambers and peered inside, he recoiled. “You’re up!” And then, with even greater astonishment, “You’re dressed!”
“Your powers of observation are ever improving, Merlin.” Arthur took the breakfast plate from his servant’s hand and began devouring the bacon. “It’s a beautiful spring day. Do you know what that means?”
“I get the day off?”
“It means we’re going hunting.”
Merlin’s stomach dropped. “Oh. Um. Do we have to?” Arthur gave him a look. “I mean, you don’t really need me to go with you, do you?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Merlin. You’re my servant. We need you to carry the quarry. Besides, wouldn’t you prefer to be outdoors on a day like this instead of stuck in here, dusting? Or mucking out the stables?” The threat was clear. Still—hunting! It would take all day!
“Oh, of course, but—I’m so bad at it. I stumble and fall all over the place. Wouldn’t you prefer I just stay behind?”
“Go get my gear, Merlin.”
And that was that.
***
Gwen came back from washing Morgana’s robe and went about her usual routine, and still Merlin didn’t come. Morgana was getting nervous, and she could tell that her silent observation was making Gwen uncomfortable as well. But what else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t concentrate on reading, couldn’t hold up her end of conversation, and couldn’t get up and pace without raising Gwen’s concern. Normally, the Lady Morgana was adept at amusing herself, and she felt now how much she was in the way. It reminded her a bit of her early months at Camelot, when Gwen had been her first and only friend and she’d followed her around like a puppy underfoot, distracting her from her chores with what amounted to demands to be entertained.
“Perhaps I’ll go see Gaius after all,” she determined at last, toying with the knot on her left bandage. She’d had enough of patience. If Merlin wasn’t coming to her, she was damn well going to Merlin. She knew that in all likelihood he was attending to Arthur, but she couldn’t very well march into Arthur’s chambers and insist on speaking to his manservant in private, at least not without considerable teasing. There was, however, the chance that Merlin would be helping Gaius, or at least that the physician would know his whereabouts, and she had a perfectly acceptable reason to visit him. Gwen wholeheartedly agreed with her intention, relieved on more than one count.
And so Morgana set off again on the path she’d traced the night before to Gaius’s quarters. She remembered as she walked the feeling of being chased by her own fear and desperation. Now what she felt was a strange combination of excitement and annoyance. If she was about to see him again, finally—filled with that light which had illuminated him as he said the words, I’m like you—she thought she might smack him. Exactly what time did Merlin consider to be “first thing in the morning?” Either something had kept him, or… Morgana admitted to herself that her fear was creeping back up on her. What if he had changed his mind? Regretted what he’d shown her? Thought better of teaching her as he’d promised he would? No, no, after what they’d shared last night, he couldn’t have. It was Merlin—he wouldn’t. Nonetheless, she quickened her pace.
In the physician’s quarters, Merlin was nowhere to be seen. She found Gaius, as usual, about his mysterious work, and as she waited for him to notice her, one of Merlin’s many confessions of the night before rose in her mind: Did you know Gaius used to practice magic himself? No. She hadn’t known that. When he’d said it, she’d almost laughed at the image. But now that she was here, looking at Gaius amid the accoutrements of his lifetime, it didn’t seem so funny. She was filled with a sudden uncertainty. Gaius had cared for her since she was a child, but if she hadn’t suspected this, how well could she really know him? Watching him now, she felt like she was seeing a stranger who only looked like a man she knew. How was she to talk to him? Had Merlin told him about last night?
But when he turned and saw her, greeted her cheerfully and asked how she’d been sleeping, it became clear that Merlin had said nothing, and she found herself falling easily into the rapport she and Gaius had always shared. Only lying to him now was perhaps a little easier than it would have been before. After all, he’d been lying to her for as long as she’d known him. Something told her not to indicate that she knew anything about Merlin—if he hadn’t told Gaius what had happened, there was a reason. So she repeated her story about the vase and Merlin’s assistance, which Gaius heard with surprise.
“I slept straight through! Merlin didn’t tell me a word about it this morning. That boy, always with his head in the clouds…” He shook his head and unwrapped her bandaged hands. “He didn’t do a bad job, though. The knots are a little sloppy. Did he use the disinfectant?”
While he searched the cabinets for clean bandages, Morgana craned her neck toward Merlin’s partially open door. She could detect no movement within. Swallowing her disappointment, she put on her most casual air to ask, “Where is Merlin now? I’d like to thank him again.”
“It is my understanding,” Gaius replied, beginning to re-wrap her right hand, “that Arthur has taken him on a hunting expedition.”
Morgana tried her best to keep her expression under control. Arthur! She wanted to throttle him. So that was it—and Merlin was almost certainly as impatient as she was, and probably more miserable. Her relief was so great that she had to laugh. “Poor Merlin!” Gaius chuckled along. For a moment they shared the sort of amused sympathy Merlin’s predicaments always engendered in his friends.
When he went about tending to her injuries, though, her eyes were drawn to the cluttered shelves all around her. She looked at his books and papers and potion bottles, and wondered what they contained. She looked at Gaius and wondered what he knew that he’d never let on to her. Did you know Gaius used to practice magic himself? The thought wouldn’t leave her alone. He knew. He must’ve known about her, about her magic, all along. More than that, he should’ve known what it felt like. But he’d only plied her with potions. He’d only kept her in the dark.
“Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”
Within her mind, a voice like that of a child wailed, Why didn’t you tell me?
But she didn’t ask, because she didn’t want to find out that this man she’d always so respected was nothing more than a coward.
***
It wasn’t until the fourth time Merlin asked, “Don’t you think we should be heading back now?” that Arthur finally agreed.
The first time, he’d been answered with a simple, “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin!” The second time had warranted the more pointed, “I’m sorry, Merlin, do you have someplace more important to be? Like the stables?” The third time Arthur had inquired as to whether he had “an appointment with a lady friend or something,” which the other knights had found rather hilarious.
So, for the fourth attempt, Merlin picked his moment carefully. He waited until Arthur had brought down a young buck, then asked, “Don’t you think we should be heading back now? You’ll want to get the game to the kitchens in time for them to prepare it for this evening.” And finally, the prince rewarded his logic with a, “Yes, I suppose so.”
Despite all his efforts, it was late afternoon by the time they arrived back at the castle. Arthur, looking around the stables, declared that they really would need to be cleaned tomorrow, but Merlin wasn’t about to let that bother him now. He knew that his behavior at this point was crucial. If he acted like he was in a hurry, Arthur would ask why, and then probably give him something else to do, just to be irritating.
He forced himself to stroll at Arthur’s side through the kitchens; he even tarried to pick up an apple. He matched Arthur’s leisurely pace up to the main castle and to the prince’s chamber door. There, Arthur stopped, and Merlin’s heart sank, anticipating new orders. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut in the forest; of course Arthur wasn’t going to let it go.
But, although he sounded a bit disdainful, all the prince said was, “Well, Merlin, whatever you were in such a hurry for today, you’d better get to it.”
Merlin cocked his head to one side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sire.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and closed his chamber door. Merlin made it back to the end of the corridor before he broke into a run and he didn’t stop until he was at the entrance to the physician’s quarters. Morgana was probably going to be mad, he didn’t blame her, but if Gaius wasn’t there he could grab his spell book and be showing it to her within five minutes.
“Ah! Merlin,” Gaius greeted him as soon as he opened the door. “How was the hunt?”
“Oh, fine. You know. The usual.” He made for his bedroom.
“Wait a minute! Slow down.”
“I’ve got to run some errands for Arthur, so…”
“You didn’t tell me about your service to the Lady Morgana this morning.”
That succeeded in freezing him on the spot. He turned to face Gaius slowly. “She told you?”
“Yes. She’s very grateful to you. As am I, come to that.”
“So… you’re… not angry?”
“Angry? No—why should I be? I got some extra sleep and you did a very serviceable job. I’m proud of you.”
“A serviceable job…” Merlin repeated. Something was not right here. Maybe Gaius was under some spell. Maybe Morgana had done it accidentally. His revelation had been serviceable?
“Yes, as I told Morgana, the knots could have been better tied, but all in all you tended her wounds correctly.”
“Oh!” All at once, everything became clear. “You mean—the bandaging?”
“Of course. What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. That. Thanks!” Merlin met Gaius’s frown with a bright smile and mounted the steps to his door. Then he stopped. Morgana was waiting, probably worried, possibly furious, and he wanted nothing more than to go to her. But if he was ever going to do this, he had to do it now, before things went any further. “Did she… tell you how she hurt herself?”
“She said she fell while carrying something made of glass. Why?”
Merlin could feel his heart pounding. If he could just broach the subject carefully… “I just wondered—you know, thinking about it at the time—if she might have done something with magic again.”
Gaius grew very serious. “I certainly hope she didn’t. What gave you that impression?”
“I don’t know. Just—the last time…”
“Hm. I see. But that was only one incident. It may never recur.” A tiny part of Merlin’s mind noted that it seemed almost like Gaius was trying to convince himself. “If this had been caused by magic, I’m sure Morgana would have been more upset when she came to me. She seemed in a very good mood—I was pleased at the time to see her looking so happy.” Merlin couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “I understand why you’re worried. I know it’s hard for you to see her troubled by magic and say nothing. But I really don’t think there is any cause for concern in this matter.”
“ But what if,” Merlin pressed, “what if it does happen again? I mean, isn’t it likely that it will? Things like that used to happen to me all the time. Wouldn’t it be better to help her like you helped me—”
“Merlin. You must stop thinking this way! You must stop wishing for Morgana’s magic to manifest itself! You know that it would be far better for her and for us all if it never does.”
There were a thousand things Merlin could have said then. He nearly exploded with a How? How would it be better? He could have informed Gaius that if he thought Morgana was falling for what he was feeding her, he was wrong. He could have told him that Morgana had done magic again… but he didn’t. He felt himself filled with a kind of despair. He couldn’t tell Gaius. He’d have to do this alone.
No matter how much his world and Morgana’s had changed overnight, Camelot was exactly the same. Uther would persecute sorcerers just as fiercely as he had yesterday and for years past. Gaius’s policy toward Morgana would remain what it had been for a decade—protect her from the fight he’d given up trying to win. Merlin finally grasped what he had always half thought: Gaius would not understand what had connected Merlin and Morgana across her darkened chambers because he would not understand, had never understood, what it was to live in fear and secrecy as they did with what power they had. How could he? Gaius had been shaped by a different time. It wasn’t his fault that he saw the world differently than Merlin and Morgana did, Merlin knew that. Merlin had tried to make him understand before, and he could try again now, but at the risk of breaking his promise to Morgana and losing his only chance to help her. Maybe it was something that couldn’t be understood without experiencing it. Gaius had said she’d looked happy, for the first time in so long. He couldn’t bear to risk that. He’d promised her.
The decision was made in an instant. There was only the slightest pause before Merlin nodded and said, “I’m sorry.”
Gaius softened. “Now, don’t you have errands to be running for Arthur?”
Merlin went into his room, lifted his magic book from its hiding place under the floor, and wrapped it back in the cloth in which Gaius had presented it to him. Gaius had been the only person who could help Merlin understand his gift, that was why his mother had sent him to Camelot. But Gaius wasn’t the person to help Morgana. That person was him. He had a responsibility to her now, and he would not let her down. He shoved the book down into the bottom of his bag and carried it with him out the door.
***
Morgana and Gwen had just finished moving her writing desk to another corner when they heard the knights returning from the hunt. In the courtyard below Morgana’s window, a dozen identically-caped men dismounted. Morgana had often noticed, and heard other ladies remark upon, how similar they all looked from a distance in their crests and armor, and how difficult it was to pick out one individual knight. In the sea of swirling red and shining armor, the one man she was looking for should have stood out like a beacon. But in fact Morgana had to pick out Arthur (she could identify him by his swagger) before she spotted the inconspicuous, dark-haired figure at his side. She smiled. Merlin had “unassuming” down to an art form. It was, she reflected, probably the reason he was still alive.
She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. He was back. Any minute now, any minute he’d be at her door. She felt the urge to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet or do something equally undignified. Instead, she blurted out, “You can always tell which one’s Sir Leon. He’s so tall.”
Gwen, fortunately, did not seem to find this odd. “There’s Sir Alisander.” She pointed. “Look—he just waved at you.”
“Did he? I didn’t notice.”
“You never do,” Gwen chided. “Poor Sir Alisander.”
Morgana forced herself to stay at the window until all of the knights had entered the castle. When she could not stand still any longer, she moved to her vanity and began industriously to pin up her hair. Any minute now. She tried to picture him on his way up from the kitchens. He’d have to go up through the opposite wing, three flights of stairs and over, just one more pin should hold the right side. What would he teach her? What power could he unlock? What would he show her that she could do? She almost didn’t care as long as he told her again that she wasn’t alone. That was what had made all of the lying and the secrets that had gone before seem not to matter at all. If she’d found out another time, another way, she would have been furious… but how could she stay angry at the one person in Camelot who could see her, really see her, tell her, “I’m like you,” and make her feel that, at last, she was not alone here? She forced one more hairpin into place and surveyed the result in the mirror. She looked asymmetrical and mildly ridiculous.
Morgana took her hair back down and began to pin it again, more carefully this time. Not for Merlin. To face her magic. She’d leave it half down, surely she could manage that.
Any minute.
He might not come. What she’d asked him to do for her was so dangerous. But it’s not as though I’d let him get caught. Surely he knows I’d never stand for Uther to…
“My lady, would you like me to help you?”
She’d almost forgotten Gwen was in the room. “No, thank you. Do you think my robe is dry by now?”
“I don’t know. I can go check.”
All her rage and all her influence couldn’t save Gwen’s father. How could Merlin expect her to save him, should worse come to worst? He might not come.
Gwen was nearly at the door when a knock sounded from the other side. Morgana started to her feet.
“Oh!” she heard Gwen say. “Hello, Merlin.”
Then his voice, soft and hesitant. “I came to see how Morgana is. I mean… if her hands are… okay.”
She took a deep breath and turned around.
***
Their eyes locked. Merlin barely heard Gwen say, “Oh, I meant to thank you for that. It was really very nice of you.” Act normal, he thought. Just act like everything’s the same as always, completely normal. His mind drew a blank. How do I normally act around Morgana?
“Um… yeah… no problem.” Good, talk to Gwen. Oh, God. What do I do with my hands?
“I mean, cleaning up the glass and everything, too. It was sweet of you to do all that. You didn’t have to.”
“The glass?” He blinked, envisioning the window panes flying back together. Then he remembered Gaius’s account of what Morgana said had happened. “Oh! You mean where she dropped the…” What did Gaius say it was? “… thing.”
“Vase,” Morgana filled in. She looked completely calm and collected, like nothing was different at all. How was she managing it? Stop staring at her. You definitely do not usually stare at Morgana and smile. He was starting to sweat. Gwen must have noticed by now that he was acting strangely. Gwen, yes—I should be looking at Gwen!
He forced his eyes down to where Gwen was standing beside him and tried to look the way he normally looked at her.
“Well, I’m just stepping out. See you later, Merlin.”
“Gwen?” Morgana called. But Merlin noticed her eyes were on him. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day and bring the robe to me this evening?”
“Yes, my lady.” Gwen waved at Merlin cheerfully and was gone.
And they were alone.
Back to chapter 1 On to chapter 3
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"But she didn’t ask, because she didn’t want to find out that this man she’d always so respected was nothing more than a coward."
I really like how you're presenting all the ways people view magic. Maybe Gaius wasn't right to leave Morgana in the dark, but, like Merlin realizes, he's from a different world and has no understanding of how frightening it is to be her at the moment.
Can't wait for the next chapter! :)
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I'm definitely going to keep playing with the way the characters understand magic and one another as they relate to magic.
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Yeah, I know, even after everything that's happened, I'm still occasionally like, "...Is it wrong that I still ship them?"
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Loving this story!
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