Fic: Wind and Running Water, Chapter 15
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15.
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On the morning that the news of Elaine’s death reached Camelot there was no shortage of doleful faces, but as Arthur walked the corridors the sympathetic glances translated as reproachful; where there were whispers or sighs he heard calls of cuckold, philanderer, that weak and passive King…
Lancelot had bolted, naturally, to ‘put his affairs in order’. The brunt of the castle’s judgement fell upon Arthur, or so he felt.
So when he leant back against the wall of his chambers and held his head in his hands, hoping for a moment of relief, he had little patience for Guinevere as she came in flustered and twittering the same callous nonsense as every other being the news had found.
“It’s just terrible. I can’t believe… the poor, poor girl, and so young. It was so tragic, her brother… It’s terrible, how she could give up like that.”
Arthur’s temperament collapsed.
“For God’s sake, stop skirting around it!” He struck out at the dressing-table mirror. It shattered and fell into shards. Perfume bottles rolled off the wobbling table and smashed at his feet.
Guinevere stared at him in shock and made a stifled gulping sound. Let her be afraid, thought Arthur, for she only has the truth to fear.
“Her husband only had eyes for you,” he said, his voice lowered but cutting as a taut wire. “And he was not denied. That’s why the Fair Elaine is a washed-up corpse and there is no point in pretending otherwise!”
To her credit she spoke up for herself. “And in no way is it my fault."
"No, you don't get to say that! Would you blame Lancelot? It takes two, Guinevere, two to betray me and hurt me and make me feel like I'm nothing, nothing to anyone."
There was a sudden fierceness in Guinevere’s eyes he had not seen before. "I have never stopped loving you, never."
“But you love everyone, Guinevere, however unworthy. Your love means nothing," he said and stormed out. At least three servants scurried away when he pushed the door open, but he did not care much who had been listening. It was not as if they had been ignorant beforehand.
She found him in the gardens.
“This isn’t to do with Elaine, is it?” she asked. He stood and stared at the path at his feet. "I haven’t… not for two years now. I have sinned, I have shamed myself and you, but that’s all past. I promise.”
“And why should I believe a word of that?”
“You can tell when I lie, can’t you? You always could.”
It was true, he could tell, and she was not lying.
“You have a right to be angry,” she said.
Suddenly Arthur felt awfully drained and he sat down heavily on a bench. “No,” he said, his eyes still turned away from her, “no, I don’t.”
“And why’s that?”
“I’ve never liked hypocrites.” He had no idea of the origin of this sudden unexpected desire to tell her everything, but there it was.
Several seconds passed before the single heavy syllable dropped from Guinevere’s lips. “Who?”
“Morgana.”
“Oh.” Expressions flickered rapidly across her face as she appeared to decide whether to be angry or not. She seemed to settle on confused. “Do you love her?”
Arthur bit at his knuckle. He was surprised that Guinevere should speak so calmly. He was thankful that no one else could hear their conversation this time.
She sat next to him and he watched her warily.
“I loved Lancelot,” she said. “But not for a moment did I stop loving you.” Her voice was strangled as if she was on the verge of tears. “I know that doesn’t make it right.”
“I don't know about her,” said Arthur eventually, his finger still pressed against his bottom lip. “Things have always been so hideously complicated. But I know I want to make things right with you.”
Their eyes met. “Do you think we can?” he asked.
She took his hand and squeezed it tentatively. “Let’s see what we can do.”
*
Arthur’s conversation with Morgana was brief.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she said.
“Of course. Of course you do. Do I need to say it, then, or will something terrible happen if your visions don’t-”
“I didn’t see this. I was watching you and Gwen earlier.”
“Oh. You worked out that I would come and…”
“I’ve worked out a lot of things. This one I’ve accepted,” she said, though he was not sure from her expression that she meant it. “You did the right thing. It’s all right, Arthur.”
“Good.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” She smiled faintly.
“Ye- If I don’t have to… that’s all… I don’t have anything else to say.”
There was a pause. “Nor do I, it seems.”
“Well, then,” he said.
“Well, then.”
In a heartbeat Arthur had crossed over to her and pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. Morgana’s chin rested on his shoulder. He thought he felt her breathe in against his cheek, as though she were about to speak.
She made a small broken noise in the back of her throat and then Arthur found himself clinging to empty air.
*
Merlin descended the main staircase and was making his way across to the throne room when he passed Vivian. She was in conversation with a man he thought he recognised - but he decided that perhaps he was reaching the age where everyone resembled someone he used to know, because he could not place the man. Merlin surmised from his attire that he was a hopeful trying out to be a knight. He would have carried on past without further thought after Vivian smiled and raised her hand in acknowledgement, but something the man said caught his ear.
“You are a friend of Emrys?” he asked her. The Great Dragon had often called him that and so did the Druids. More or less anyone with strong magic seemed to, but never Arthur and his knights.
He was curious and so later on he introduced himself.
“Agravain,” the man said, shaking his hand. “It is, of course, an honour.”
“You’re here to become a Knight of Camelot?”
Agravain gave him a smile of wry amusement, the only expression which ever seemed to break that of intense solemnity he usually wore. “Among other things,” he said.
“I was just wondering… yesterday, you were talking to Vivian-”
“A charming girl, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is…”
“Watch out for her,” said Agravain, that smile coming over his features again. “Especially where your heart is concerned.”
“Wha…” Merlin was temporarily thrown. “I was wondering why you called me Emrys?”
“It must have been something I picked up from somewhere.”
“You have no magic, then?” He tried to sound casual, though something about Agravain unsettled him.
“Very little. Certainly nothing to speak to the great Merlin of.”
He nodded. “Well, good luck with your training. Arthur might seem a bit terrifying, but I promise underneath it all he’s… actually sometimes a bit terrifying.”
Merlin grinned and once again Agravain gave his off-putting smile.
*
“Constantine’s arrived, Arthur,” said Guinevere.
“Constantine?”
“Cador’s son.”
“Yes, yes, I know who Constantine is. He’s here already?”
“Would seem so.”
A messenger entered the room. “My lord, the boy Constantine-”
“Yes, all right, I know,” said Arthur, getting up from his throne and muttering to himself. “Heard enough about damned Constantine to last me a lifetime.” It was galling that he should have to spend his days training a cousin rather than a son, but what made it all the worse was how insufferably smug Cador had been about the whole thing.
Guinevere followed him down to the courtyard to greet the boy, who bowed deeply to them.
“My lord. My lady.”
“Welcome to Camelot,” said Guinevere.
Arthur indicated that Constantine should stand up straight. He looked him over. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen, my lord.”
“Seventeen already?”
“Eighteen next month, my lord.”
“And your training so far?”
“Arthur,” whispered Guinevere, “don’t you think we should invite him in first?”
He hushed her.
“I’ve been squire to Sir Urry for nearly four years, my lord,” said Constantine. “He thinks I’m ready to serve you and learn from you, as does my father.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” said Arthur. “Dawn tomorrow, don’t be late.”
“You shouldn’t have questioned me like that,” he hissed to Guinevere once Constantine had gone to settle in.
“He’s only just arrived. And he’s family. No need to treat him like that.”
“Like what?”
“As if it’s his fault he’s not your son.”
Arthur glared. “The whole situation is embarrassing enough without you trying to overrule me.”
“If you could just have some humility-”
“I think we’ve both learnt what happens when I have too much humility,” he huffed.
Guinevere was quiet for a moment. “I shan’t say anything if you treat him as you would anyone else.”
His gaze softened. “I’ll do my best.” He took her arm. “Okay?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
*
Morgana did not like feeling sorry for herself, especially since this time Arthur had finally done what she had asked of him, and it was frustrating that she could not cry, though it might have been cathartic. He was a better man, but now he was he had no use for her, and, she supposed, she had no purpose towards him; yet still she felt a connection to him, and him alone. She grew more and more angry; malevolence was such a kinder feeling than pure loss. But she could not act against Arthur, though she spent much time imagining unfortunate ends she could bring him to.
She ambushed one of Arthur's knights when he was alone, and the man almost fell off his horse.
"Sagremore?"
He nodded, his face pale.
"Come down here. No point in riding away."
Sagremore climbed down and stood against his horse, shaking with fear.
"Arthur doesn't go for the fearless ones any more, does he? So you know who I am, then."
"Morgana the Fay."
"And you're afraid of me."
He did not speak. She wished she had picked someone who would at least have pretended not to be scared.
"Are they all afraid of me?" she asked. "The people? The knights? The King?"
He gulped.
"Answer me."
"Not the King,” he said. “The King fears nothing."
"The same old line. Does he make you repeat it after him?" She expected no response and received none. "Well, let me tell you something, Sagremore. Pay attention. Arthur needs to hear this." She approached him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. "He may think he’s brave, but he’s only foolhardy if he thinks I can be overlooked."
He swallowed again and trembled. Morgana let her eyes flash gold. "For now they know my name, his people, and they are terrified. They cower in my presence; they will do my bidding to save their own skins. They would rise up against him at my behest. A word from me and he’ll have no kingdom, no power. He is entirely at my mercy. It’s only through my grace that he has anything. It would do him good to remember that."
"W-why do you not tell Arthur so? Why me?"
She did not tell Arthur because she knew she would be tempted and she was not so pathetic as to chase after men she had lost. There were other ways for her to feel. She could still make him hurt - perhaps not now, but later, when she was further removed from him, when she could make herself not care.
“I’ve made my peace with him, of sorts. But let him know that if he or any of his subjects chooses to… act rashly against me, there will be consequences. My power is beyond imagination. And, don’t let him forget, I’m in possession of information that would lead to more than a little doubt over his moral character.”
“What do you mean?”
“Arthur will know what I mean. Remember to tell him everything.”
Sagremore nodded. “Um…”
“Yes?”
“What was that first part again?”
*
“Arthur?” Merlin came and sat next to him. “What was Sagremore babbling on about?”
Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “Morgana gave me an offer of peace. It’s uneasy peace, on our part only out of fear of her. She wants us to be afraid. But she’s issued no other demands, so I suppose we should be glad.” He was not glad; he had thought they had reached a point where Morgana would stop trying to manipulate him.
“Demands other than…?”
“Other than we should make no attempt to attack her. Not that we were planning on it after a certain incident which fortunately she seems to have let us off for.”
“I’m sorry,” said Merlin again.
“It’s all right. Even if you were a bit of a prat.”
“What?”
“I said you were a bit of a prat.”
“You can’t say that,” said Merlin, pouting. “I’m the one who’s supposed to call you a prat. This isn’t how our relationship’s supposed to work.”
Arthur snorted. “Sorry, but that time the prattery was all yours.”
“‘Prattery’? That’s not even a word.”
“It is if I say it is. Let’s not forget who’s King, Merlin.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Prat.”
“Imbecile,” said Arthur, failing to keep a straight face.
“See?” said Merlin. “Much better.”
*
A few weeks after Arthur had visited her, Morgana was in her cottage when she heard someone at the door. Lost travellers perhaps, she thought.
She opened the door and gaped at Lillian.
“Hi there. I’m seeking help, not revenge, before you go pulling out the big guns.”
Morgana blinked some more. “The what?”
“Oh, future thing, never mind.” Lillian paused and tossed her head. “Where was I? Oh yes, rocks fell - not your fault - I was incapacitated for a while there, yadda yadda, now I barely have the strength to keep up the aesthetic and maybe zip around a bit now and then. I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to, which I don’t. Just to be clear.”
“Er, so, what is it you wanted?”
“Can I come in?” She craned her neck to peer behind Morgana. “Unless you’re in the middle of some nefarious plot against the crown; hear that’s what you’re into these days. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, we all have our hobbies. I don’t judge.”
Morgana waved her inside. Lillian sat down, not waiting for an invitation. “As I mentioned, I need to ask a favour. Nothing to put you out, I promise.”
“Go on, then,” said Morgana, sitting down herself.
“Well, first you have to understand why it was I was hanging around at that wretched coven in the first place. It wasn’t the immortality. It was the power I needed. But I’m quite glad things worked out as they did.”
“You don’t want to be a Fay?”
“Everything comes at a price, Morgana. I expect you’re discovering that yourself. I could hardly stand the thought of immortality. But I needed to have that much magic. Or know someone with that much magic.” She leant forward conspiratorially. “I need someone who can overpower Merlin.”
“Merlin? Why?”
“At night, Merlin guards Arthur’s sword Excalibur - I suppose you’ve heard of it?”
“Of course. I’ve even used it myself.” Lillian nodded at her. “Only twice.”
“Do you know its origin?” asked Lillian.
“I know it was taken from a lake.”
“It was taken from my sister - my flesh and blood sister - who dwells beneath the surface.”
“Underwater?” asked Morgana disbelievingly.
Lillian raised an eyebrow. “You’re immortal.”
“Well… yes, all right.”
“The sword was taken from my sister against her will. I’m sure you know that it’s unique.”
Morgana considered. “I’ve heard that it’s magical, but it appeared the same as any other sword when I saw it. More ornate, perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“It can kill wraiths and other magical beings that most weapons are useless against. My sister wishes it to be returned to her, but I can’t get past Merlin by myself.” Lillian looked to her imploringly.
And so, hours later, Morgana found herself holding Merlin up against his bedroom wall with her magic while Lillian rummaged under the bed.
“Why are you helping her? You don’t need Excalibur when you have this much power.” Merlin squirmed ineffectually as Lillian pulled out a chest. It was decorated with ivory and precious stones, almost as opulent as its contents.
“The sword belongs to her sister. We are only returning it to its rightful owner,” said Morgana. At Lillian’s request she overrode Merlin’s magical seals on the chest.
“Vivian told me to take it. I think this woman is lying,” said Merlin.
Morgana glanced between him and Lillian, who took Excalibur from its sheath and examined it. “I’m not lying. The Lady of the Lake is my sister-”
“She gave the sword to Arthur because it was meant for him!” cried Merlin. "No one else could've taken it."
Lillian went up close to him and tilted her head to one side. “That’s true. Do you know who my other sister is, though? You made a deal with her once, but you couldn’t accept the consequences, despite being prepared for them.” She smiled. “I needed Arthur to get hold of Excalibur for me.” She transformed directly before them into a beautiful girl with big brown eyes.
“No,” whispered Merlin. Morgana gaped at Vivian - or Lillian? - but kept him pinned where he was. She was not sure what exactly was happening or who was in the right any more.
“Does it hurt to be deceived?” asked Vivian, almost laughing with glee. “Nimueh is avenged.” She stabbed Merlin clean through the heart.
Morgana released him and turned to restrain Vivian at the same moment that Arthur burst in, clearly half-asleep, with a poker in one hand. He stood frozen, struck dumb by the sight before him, a harrowed look on his face. Merlin was propped up by the wall, blood dripping down over his abdomen. He made a couple of loathsome gurgling sounds. Morgana pulled Excalibur from his chest and tried hard to repair the damage, but to no avail.
“A wound made by Excalibur can't be healed by magic,” he managed to say. “Vivian planned this.”
Vivian glared at her with darkened eyes, realising that she was trapped. “Aren’t you grateful, Morgana? Didn’t you want him dead? Be better than me. Have some humanity…”
“I haven’t had any for a while now,” said Morgana plainly. She thrust Excalibur into Vivian’s side without hesitation.
She heard Vivian’s scream and Arthur’s gasp of horror as the two mighty sorcerers fell like dead leaves, but Morgana did not stay to watch further. She had wanted to see Arthur like this, had revelled at the mere thought of it. Now Merlin lay dead and Arthur’s spirits would be crushed, exactly as she had hoped.
She could feel everything so clearly now, suffer the full shame and abhorrence of the situation, and she could not bear it.
*
To Chapter 16