Before the Sun Breaks Another Day -- Chapter Ten
Title: Before the Sun Breaks Another Day
Authors: accordingtomel & adelagia
Summary: Three months after her disappearance, Morgana returns to Camelot with a hidden agenda, but she's not the only one keeping secrets, and a series of unintended revelations forces her, Merlin and Arthur on an intertwined journey of revenge, redemption and love.
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, Leon/Morgana (elements of Uther/Morgana, Arthur/Gwen)
Rating: PG-13 (eventual NC-17)
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 5,796
Disclaimer: Not ours. No money is being made. Please don't sue.
Authors' Note: Many thanks once again to ravenflight21 for the beta/Brit-pick.
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
CHAPTER TEN
Arthur made his way down the corridors with a hesitance to his step, mind racing with so many thoughts that it forced an unconscious deliberation to his movements. In a way, Arthur was grateful for the interruption Merlin had provided. It wasn't so much that he wanted to speak with his father, who would no doubt seek to reassure Arthur that his intimate moment with Morgana was nothing more than a gross misunderstanding, as he was struck with the sudden and overwhelming urge to get away from Morgana and her accusations right that very second. As it was, he was still actively working out how to erase the memory of his father and Morgana -- doing... what they'd been doing -- from his mind. Now, on top of that, he had the added burden of trying to interpret and process her ramblings, which may or may not have been entirely out of line.
Uther and his platitudes could wait, as far as Arthur was concerned. It was an attempt to mollify Uther's own guilty conscience as much as an effort to put Arthur's mind at ease, but at the moment Arthur had other far more pressing matters occupying his mind. In the blink of an eye, all of his fury had been upended, spun one hundred and eighty degrees, landing squarely in the tiny -- though ever expanding -- part of Arthur's brain he privately thought of as uncharted territory. It was the place, the little fragment of his heart and mind, where Arthur stored the thoughts and feelings he didn't particularly care to examine or dwell on further, shoved some place deep within him, never to see the light of day.
For the most part, he managed to keep those thoughts locked away, hidden from even his own conscious consideration. But of course, no hiding place was without a key and keyhole to provide entrance. Much as he hated to acknowledge the fact, there were a select few people in Arthur's life who happened to stumble upon the key, whether by accident or with calculated determination, shoving it at him with just the right amount of force to unseal those things he sought to keep hidden. In this particular situation, one small imputation, uttered in the throes of a heated argument as means of distraction, had pierced the fortress, clicking perfectly in place to unlock the thoughts and feelings and fears pouring freely into his mind for analysis.
Does he know, Arthur, that you're in love with him? Morgana's voice continued to mock him, equal parts accusation and amusement, running in a continuous cycle through his brain, making him dizzy with the implication of it all.
The allegation made his stomach churn, twisting with a sick feeling that pooled deep in his belly, not because it was true, but because it wasn't altogether untrue. Arthur would be remiss to deny that there was something there, lurking just below the surface, between him and Merlin, significant and intense and, in many ways, all-encompassing, though Arthur was hesitant to put a name to it, reluctant to define anything. From the first moment he'd laid eyes on Merlin, Arthur knew there was something different -- something unique -- about him, but at the time he hadn't given the thought much regard. And then, without warning, Merlin was thrown into Arthur's life in the most intimate and intrusive of manners. The fumbling, clumsy oaf was reluctantly forced into the role of manservant to the prince, and much to Arthur's surprise, he somehow managed to dig a hole under Arthur's defences, and arrive comfortably on the other side, before Arthur was even aware that anything had really changed at all.
It had been a terrifying revelation at the time, when Arthur realised just how willing he was to risk his life to protect Merlin's. He'd spent his life surrounded by people who swore their undying loyalty and allegiance to him, as a prince, and to Camelot. Never before, though, had Arthur been on the other side of that equation, experiencing the same level of devotion that those around him displayed on a daily basis, and for a servant, no less. Still, their unlikely partnership had blossomed into something more, and after a while Arthur had finally admitted to himself that Merlin was his friend, might possibly have been the only true friend he'd ever had, even if he'd never expressly uttered the sentiment aloud.
But it was here, at the claim that Arthur was in love with Merlin, that his blood ran cold and his breath hitched in his throat. It was not lost on Arthur, the significance of his dreams, or the actions he'd taken in the woods that day not so long ago, cock hard and skin longing for Merlin's touch. He would be lying to himself if he claimed that he'd never had improper thoughts about Merlin prior to the incident, or that he hadn't thought of that particular occurrence since. The reality was that the memory invaded his mind on a daily basis, stabbing and slicing through his defences until he found something to distract himself, or shoved a hand into his breeches and eliminated the tension, if he was lucky enough to have a spare moment to do so, which more often than not was not the case.
Still, no matter the reasons for his burgeoning interest in Merlin, the truth was that nothing could ever happen between them. Even putting aside their difference in rank and class, as well as the fact that Merlin was also male -- both of which would make any union between them highly inappropriate, though not impossible -- Arthur wasn't willing to risk losing him. On any given day, people bustled in and out of a prince's life -- castle servants, visiting nobles and royalty, peasants seeking council to air grievances or settle disputes, even knights came and went, or were killed in battle. It was a reality that steeled hearts and kept emotional attachment at an arm's length, because it served no one's benefit to spend time and energy on people who flitted in and out before any connection could even be made in the first place.
And it was in this way, yet again, Merlin differed from all the others, because he was Arthur's constant companion, reliable and loyal and always present. Present through the royal visits, the council meetings, the battles and wars, hunting trips and patrols, and present through the mundane, routine activities of daily life. He was there with his lopsided grin, funny ears, cheeky comments, and steadfast friendship. Arthur didn't keep Merlin around as a servant because he was skilled at clearing away clutter, or removing dust from his mantle, or shining his boots properly. Arthur kept Merlin as his servant because he was daring enough to challenge Arthur's beliefs and perspectives, even when he had no desire to confront any of those things. He would complain about doing the laundry or preparing a hot bath late in the evening, but would conversely stay up until the early morning hours before a tournament, sharpening Arthur's sword or mending the armour that would keep him from harm. Merlin trusted, defended, supported, challenged, encouraged, respected. Never before had Arthur had someone like Merlin in his life, and the idea of potentially risking it all sat heavy in Arthur's belly like a lead weight.
The reality was that Morgana was not entirely incorrect, not entirely misguided, and while Arthur was not yet willing to concede anything, he was also unequivocally aware that he could no longer deny his attraction to Merlin either. For a moment, he longed for the days of old, when a servant was merely a servant and he wasn't forced to contemplate their role or significance in his life. Yet, there were also times when Arthur forgot that things had been different before Merlin, forgot what it was like to hear "sire" and be treated with the deference that was due, and strangely enough, he desired nothing more than for things to stay as they were right now.
Reaching up, Arthur scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the first signs of the afternoon's stress building behind his eye sockets, and just barely avoided a head-on collision with Gwen.
"Oh, sire, I'm sorry. I didn't even notice you coming around the corner," she said, smiling in her typically exuberant and apologetic manner as she attempted to balance a basket of laundry, rather unsuccessfully, on her right hip.
"It's no bother, Gwen," he said, dredging up a half-smile in the hopes of dissuading her from asking any questions of him.
Unfortunately, his airy comment wasn't convincing enough, however, as her features pulled down into a concerned frown upon seeing Arthur's face. He could only imagine what he looked like at the moment, and actively attempted to school his features to hide any of the distress he was experiencing. "What's wrong?"
"Um, well..." He wasn't sure what to say to Gwen, exactly, especially given the nature with which he'd dismissed her earlier concerns as being little more than idle speculation. Still, he owed it to her to be honest, especially given the risk she'd taken in coming to him in the first place. Several times, Arthur attempted to form the words, mouth open and poised to speak, but at the last second he felt his courage wane. There was no easy way of sharing such delicate information, but word spread quickly in the castle, and there was no doubt that Gwen would find out one way or another, whether through him or other, more questionable means.
"I'm sure you'll hear about this eventually," he sighed, then cast a quick glance around to ensure there were no interlopers lurking about. The corridors were empty, but he dropped his voice anyway, leaning in closer. "But I think I may have been, er, too hasty in my dismissal of your concerns the last time we spoke."
Gwen blinked at him, clearly not following what he was trying to vaguely imply. "I'm sorry?"
Something like irritation settled in his chest, then, though it wasn't aimed in Gwen's direction. It occurred to Arthur in that moment that the responsibility for damage control would rest solely on his shoulders if this information did, somehow, manage to make its way into the serving quarters, and he felt frustration bubble up at the fact that his father and Morgana were placing him in this situation at all. The entire thing was nothing short of completely ludicrous. "Well, it's just that... your concerns in regards to Morgana. And my father--"
There was a pregnant pause that followed his half-sentence, left to hang unfinished as Arthur fought against his desire to recoil from this conversation entirely.
"What about them, sire?" Gwen asked, finally, when it became clear that there was to be no end to Arthur's statement.
"I needed to speak with my father, and I walked in on the two of them together." He swallowed, finding that he couldn't quite meet her gaze. "They were kissing."
Her eyes widened into two round saucers, and a hand flew to instinctively cover her mouth. "You mean---" Gwen waved her hand around, as though that could somehow replace the words she was clearly struggling to form. "Kissing, kissing?"
He might have laughed, in different circumstances, at her words. But that would've been inappropriate, given the serious nature of their discussion, never mind Arthur's own lack of comfort with the topic. Still, he was unable to prevent the slight quirk of his lips all the same. "It wasn't overly intimate, and it was unclear the level of commitment from my father, but there was no mistaking what was going on when we entered."
"So you saw them together, then." Gwen shook her head, as though she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, even though it was obvious the suspicion had been there all along. Suddenly her brows darted high on her forehead and she made a small, thoughtful noise. "Wait, you said 'we'. Someone else was with you?"
"There were no guards in the room. Only Sir Leon and I observed them."
"Sir Leon..." she trailed off, and though Arthur couldn't be quite sure, it sounded as though she was mumbling to herself something along the lines of 'poor man'. What that meant, he didn't even want to begin to contemplate. Gwen shifted the laundry basket to her other hip, leaning to the right to balance herself in the process. "Where is Morgana now?"
Arthur hiked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which he'd come from. "Last I saw her, she was still in my chambers."
"Oh, so you've spoken with her, then? I mean, not that it's any of my business, of course, so you don't have to tell me anything at all..."
"No, it's fine, Guinevere. You tried to warn me and I dismissed your concerns. For that, I apologise." She smiled at him warmly, shaking her head as if it were nothing, though Arthur knew that wasn't the case. He should've believed her, should've trusted in her word. She'd never misled him before. But he'd been too caught up in his own disgust at the prospect that he'd convinced himself that Gwen must have been reading too much into things. Remembering, then, that he still hadn't answered her question, he hastened to add, "She followed me to my chambers. I confronted her about what'd happened, but I wasn't able to get a straight answer out of her."
"What did she say?"
"Not much. That it wasn't a big deal, that my father makes her feel safe, that--" He stopped before he could finish the sentence, brain catching up with his mouth just in time to prevent a reveal of entirely too much information.
Unfortunately for him, Gwen had an eye almost as sharp as Morgana's, and her forehead crinkled curiously. "What? What is it?"
This was not a place he wanted to go right now, though he supposed he'd really prefer to never speak of it again, if possible. If there was anything reassuring about her questioning, however, it was in the knowledge that she would, in fact, back down on this point if he didn't wish to discuss it. Interestingly, it was just another reminder of how Merlin had broken through all the social barriers separating them, while Gwen quietly lurked around its edges, brushing against but never quite stepping through. Merlin wouldn't leave something like this alone, whereas Gwen would, now and possibly always.
It was with this knowledge in hand, grasped firmly between his fingers, that Arthur made a quick decision. "She, um-- She accused me of being in love. With, uh, someone..." he said dumbly. Arthur was blushing already, could feel the heat crawl up the back of his neck, and he was already beginning to regret permitting himself to say anything at all.
Gwen blinked, and then, "Oh." If there were any hidden emotions or thoughts in that single word, they were completely undetectable to him, and he wasn't sure how to interpret her lack of response to his admission.
Instead, he made to downplay the significance of Morgana's claim, as much in the hope of convincing himself as of persuading Gwen. "Yes, well, it was a distraction tactic, without a doubt. I admit it threw me for a bit of a loop, but it was Morgana spewing preposterous ideas around with that exact goal in mind."
"Who did she, uh, accuse you of being in love..." In the same way Arthur found his brain scrambling to catch up with his words, Gwen stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening and mouth formed into a startled 'O'. "No, wait, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that. It's none of my business. Please forgive me." Her gaze fell to the floor and she began to play absently with the cuff of her sleeve, suddenly enraptured by the fabric.
"It's all right, there's no need for apologies," Arthur said quickly, fighting back a sigh. This, too, he had no doubt would get back to Gwen eventually, if Morgana had anything to say about it. It was probably best to come out with it and face her reaction head on, than to be left wondering when she would hear and, more importantly, how she would react to the accusation. Especially if, as Morgana had claimed, Gwen already suspected he was in love with someone else. Swallowing the knot of anxiety in his gut, Arthur surged forward before he had time to think better of the decision. "She said that I was in love with, er, Merlin."
A single brow arched high on her forehead. "Merlin."
It should have been a question, but it sounded far more like a statement of fact than Arthur was comfortable with. Even more distressing was the lack of surprise or horror he'd been expecting (or hoping, possibly only hoping) from her, as if the thought wasn't an entirely new one and perhaps almost anticipated. Arthur couldn't even begin to think about what that could possibly imply, didn't want to even try. He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, pointedly ignoring the embarrassed heat radiating from his all-too-obviously red face.
"Yes, can you believe her? As if I'd ever fall in love with Merlin," Arthur scoffed, though it sounded a bit weak, even to his own ears. It was funny, how he was believing his own words less and less, the more he thought or spoke about Merlin. It filled Arthur with a sense of impending dread, and he closed his eyes temporarily, willing the thoughts from his conscious consideration.
When his eyes re-opened, it was to the sight of Gwen staring at him, a discerning expression painted across her features, and Arthur didn't like the knowing look she was giving him. He didn't like it at all. Silence filled the air, and Gwen's hesitation was nearly palpable in its overtness. There was something she wanted to say, he could just feel it, but likely her sense of deference and propriety prevented the words from taking form.
"Well, you know how Morgana can get when she feels cornered," Gwen finally said as way of support -- though he certainly didn't feel any better -- and reached out to gently pat his arm, as if she were consoling a small child over his broken toy. It made Arthur feel decidedly more uncomfortable, if that were even possible.
Arthur grunted in what he hoped came across as an affirmation of Gwen's statement, suddenly desiring nothing more than to speak with his father after all.
After a lengthy and mildly awkward pause, they both spoke at the same time.
"I should probably--"
"I suppose it would be wise--"
Gwen smiled, a soft chuckle tumbling past her lips, and Arthur felt a bit of the sudden tension dissipate. "You first," she suggested.
Arthur found himself unconsciously returning her smile. "I was saying that I should probably be on my way. My father is waiting to speak with me."
"Right. Of course." She nodded quickly, glancing down at the large basket of laundry still in her arms. "I should go too. To, um, finish the laundry."
"Yes, well, that sounds good." Arthur coughed softly, stepping to the side to allow Gwen to pass by.
"Sire," she said, ducking her head respectfully as she moved past him down the hallway.
Just before she rounded the corner he called out to her one last time, a final thought poking at the back of his mind. She stopped, turning to glance back at him inquisitively. "If you could maybe talk to Morgana...?"
"I will," she promised, and then finally disappeared from his sight.
With a sigh, Arthur scrubbed a hand down his face, mentally preparing to face his father as he forced his limbs to move once more, heaviness weighing down each step that brought him closer to the throne room. It was already beginning to feel like an impossibly long day, and he had this sudden feeling that it wouldn't be over for some time still.
Merlin stared at her hand tightening around his forearm, the apprehension on his face a bleak mask, but he made no move to escape. Satisfied that he wasn't going to bolt, Morgana made sure the doors were closed, and gestured for him to sit down at Arthur's dining table. He eased carefully into a chair, never taking his eyes off her.
"I need you to do something for me," Morgana said, and held up a hand at the defiant expression forming on his face, no doubt a harbinger of some stupidly brave remark. "And I'll tell you why you're going to do it."
He swallowed a retort, and said nothing, which she took as invitation to go on.
"The thing is, Merlin," she said, weighing her words deliberately. She was taking a bit of a gamble here, considering she hadn't had any time to really process the discovery that Arthur was in love with his manservant -- and how stupendously ludicrous and yet utterly natural that thought was -- but time was one thing she didn't have. What she did have, however, was deductive skill. "I know why you're here. I know why you choose to stay in Camelot, to hide who you are and risk death everyday."
"Do you?" he said tightly.
Morgana smiled, and it was almost affectionate; she remembered teasing him about liking Gwen once or twice, and the gaping and sputtering he'd do at her, and the way she'd laughed.
"It's because of Arthur, isn't it?" she said. "He's dear to you."
Merlin's lips pressed together in a thin line, like he was afraid of saying too much, though his tense silence spoke just as loudly. "He's good to me," he said, at length. "It's better than most servants could expect. And he'll make a great king some day. I only want to help him get there."
"Oh, that's sweet," Morgana said dully. "So it's just blind loyalty, then, and nothing more?"
Merlin gave her an impatient look. "What are you getting at?"
She rolled her shoulders impassively. "It's just a bit suspicious, don't you think, how dedicated you are to him?"
A flicker of worry danced across his face; she was moving in the right direction. "It's my job," said Merlin.
"Oh, no, Merlin. Washing his socks and making sure he gets breakfast on time is your job. What doesn't fall under your duties is being desperately in love with him." She let the words hang in the air for a moment, let them take their time to sink in, while she scrutinised him closely.
It was a little surprising how easy it was to read him now, considering that in all the time she'd known him, it had never once occurred to her to suspect him of being a murdering sorcerer. At the moment, however, every trace of trepidation and anxiety stood out starkly on his face, and it was clear that her gambit had paid off. He was just as in love with Arthur as Arthur was with him, and neither of them had a bloody clue about it. Had she stumbled upon this three months ago, she'd have probably been first in line to lock them in a small room together until they sorted it out -- or at least would have threatened to, with no small amount of glee -- but the way things stood now, the best she could do was to manipulate those feelings into means for her ends.
It gave her no pleasure to know that Arthur might wind up hurt by all of this, but he was strong and he'd get over it eventually. Right now there were much more important things at stake.
Merlin's eyebrows knotted together, pulling the rest of his features into line, hiding his insecurity under a sheen of annoyance. "Is this going somewhere? I do have chores to do."
"I'll take it as true, then? Tell me, Merlin, how can you claim to love someone and yet lie to his face every single day?"
"I never said anything of the kind," Merlin retorted.
Morgana noted privately that he wasn't outright denying having feelings for Arthur either, which was fair enough, considering that if she were in his position she'd play everything as closely to the chest as possible. But, of course, she wasn't Merlin; if she had been, she wouldn't have been surprised by what came out of his mouth next.
"And even if it was true," Merlin said, his eyes darkening with intent, "at least I'm doing it to protect him from harm. From people like you. You would kill Arthur ten times over just to achieve your own ends. The sleeping spell, the snake in the forest -- he would have died because of you."
"I had nothing to do with that," Morgana snapped, a chill seizing her insides at the thought of Arthur pushed so close to death.
Merlin shook his head. "Just because you aren't the one drawing his blood doesn't mean you get to wash your hands of responsibility. You're the reason why these things happened. You started this."
"Uther started this," she hissed. "His hatred and his selfishness are why we have to live like this, why we have to die for being born this way. Don't tell me you wouldn't want things to be different."
"Of course I do, and in time, it will be different. Arthur will make the difference."
"In time?" Morgana scoffed. "If Uther's reign goes on for the next twenty years, you'll just wait it out? Watch him execute magic users left and right until there's no one left? And who's to say Arthur will deal with it any better? You know how he was raised, and the longer he lives under Uther's laws, the more inured he'll become to it."
"So you'll kill him first, just in case?" Merlin said snidely.
Morgana's jaw clenched. "I told you, I had nothing to do with Arthur being attacked." The glare of accusation burned a little too hot, and she knew that if the conversation continued down this path, she might end up admitting to things she didn't want to think of, and capitulating to feelings she'd kept buried deep inside. She had a mission to carry out, for the good of Camelot, for the fading light of the Old Religion, and there was no leeway for emotional diversions. At least, not that of her own emotions.
Forcing them aside, she shot Merlin as condescending and controlled a look as she could manage. "It is noble of you, I suppose," she vouchsafed, tilting her head to study him like a dead specimen pinned to a board. "So willing to give your life up for someone who wouldn't think twice about ending yours. It doesn't matter to you that Arthur was brought up to believe that all sorcery is evil? That if you were found out, he'd set the pyre aflame himself if his father ordered it?"
"Arthur's not like that, and you know it."
"Isn't he?" Morgana countered. "Think of how long it took him to intervene when Gaius was sentenced to death last year for suspected sorcery. He's known Gaius his entire life; he's practically a second father to Arthur. And you think Arthur would rush to protect you after you've been lying to him all this time? Making a fool of him?"
Merlin only looked at her calmly. "I trust Arthur with my life, under any circumstance. Maybe you don't have faith in him, but I do."
It was a saccharine sentiment, probably meant to be touching in some capacity, but its sickly sweetness only infuriated Morgana. That Merlin should remain so unruffled at the prospect of offering up his secret and placing his life in Arthur's hands, without fear or recrimination, stung. It wasn't resignation that made him this way, it was an unassailable confidence in Arthur's character -- the depths of his heart and his inherent sense of justice -- that gave Merlin this self-assurance. He was only a servant, while she had lived under this roof for more than half her life, as a part of the family, yet she still didn't know if she could expect that same treatment from Uther -- or even Arthur, for that matter -- if she was the one to divulge her secret.
"Is that so?" she challenged, swallowing her own doubts. "Well, when Arthur returns, perhaps we should test this theory."
A flash of uncertainty alit on Merlin's face for a brief second, but he met her gaze steadily. "I'm sure he would find it equally interesting to hear what you're up to."
"Please," Morgana said, dismissive. "What makes you think Arthur would take your word over mine?"
Merlin shrugged. "Maybe he won't, and maybe you'll be rid of me after all, but Arthur's clever. Once he's got an idea in his head he won't let it go until he's seen it through to the last. You've already got guards watching you day and night; do you really want to risk drawing Arthur's attention to your movements as well?"
Morgana narrowed angry eyes at him. Again that quiet confidence about Arthur, that insouciance to her threats; he was turning out to be far less tractable than she'd thought. And even as she knew that she would never have worked up the fortitude to do so, the thought that perhaps she should have killed him when she'd had the chance ran across her mind. She needed him now, however, to keep Arthur's mind at ease about her and Uther, and if she didn't have a strong enough hold over him using Arthur, then she'd just have to take it one step up the chain of command.
"I don't think you fully understand me, Merlin. I don't need to use your sorcery against you -- it's just convenient. I don't even need a smidgen of truth to make your life a living hell. If I screamed right now, told the guards you'd tried to attack me, who do you think they're going to believe? Whose side do you think Uther would take?" She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You're just a servant boy. But me? I matter."
"Then why don't you use that for good?" Merlin demanded. "You could do so much with just one word."
She levelled a heated glare at him. "Don't you think I've tried? Uther clapped me in chains for speaking against him. His head is so full of the lies he's spun there's no room for reason."
"And destroying Camelot is supposed to help? Killing everyone who cares about you will make it better?"
"It isn't like that," she insisted.
All of a sudden Merlin's expression softened; it made him look so young and untainted that for a moment Morgana could have believed every word he uttered, and that was so much worse than if he had castigated her instead. "I don't know what you're planning, Morgana, but if you have to hurt other people to get it done, then it isn't right," he said.
Morgana lifted her chin. "It's no worse than what Uther's done to his people for the entirety of his reign. I'm doing Camelot a favour."
"I know you're hurt and disappointed and angry," Merlin went on in a gentle voice, like he was afraid of spooking her, "but if you let that guide your actions, by the end you won't have anything to hold onto except your own bitterness."
Abruptly she was reminded of Leon, dear Leon, who had let go of his pain and sorrow and turned himself from a recalcitrant ruffian as a youth into a man anyone would be proud to call friend. A lash of shame whipped through her at the thought of the difference in their paths, what he might think of her if he knew she'd only come back to seek deadly vengeance. It was unavoidable now; she'd tried to bury it under the guise of justice, but it seared through her fortifications, and she knew, as she'd known all along, that what she was doing to Uther was plainly and simply wrong.
But just because two wrongs didn't make a right didn't mean she could stand idly by and do nothing while Uther continued to spread his petty lies around and take the lives of innocents. Maybe Merlin was content to just wait until Arthur took the throne and threw all the laws out the window, but Morgana couldn't. For over twenty years, hundreds of people had suffered at Uther's hands, and she wasn't willing to give him twenty more, nor was she willing to bank on Arthur having the courage to rule in opposition of his father's legacy. And maybe what she was doing wasn't right, but at least it would be better than what they had now.
Morgause wanted to take the kingdom by magic and by force, and Merlin wanted to leave it be, and either way, by the end one of them would find the blood of hundreds on their hands. But for Morgana, there would be one casualty and one alone, and that, she thought, she could live with. If she could only see her plan through, Uther would make her his queen, and once it was certain that all authority would be left to her upon his passing, she would engineer his death, and Camelot would be hers to heal.
She shook her head at Merlin, and tried not to let him see the traces of her regret. "I have to do this," she said, with more conviction than she currently felt.
"Morgana, no," Merlin said.
"And," she continued, as though he hadn't spoken, "if you don't want me screaming for the guards, you'll do as I say."
He dropped his head, disappointed.
"Arthur may speak to you of my relationship with Uther. I need you to convince him that there's nothing to worry about. And if you can't do that," Morgana said, when Merlin looked at her as though he was going to start arguing again, "then at least keep him occupied with something else. I don't care what; just keep him out of my way."
"What are you going to do?" Merlin asked, chary.
"I won't hurt Arthur, if that's what you're thinking. And that's all you need to know."
Before Merlin could make any further protest, Morgana pushed away from the table and strode out of Arthur's chambers, the echo of her footsteps through the corridors a mocking accompaniment to her solitude.
Continue to Chapter Eleven
Authors: accordingtomel & adelagia
Summary: Three months after her disappearance, Morgana returns to Camelot with a hidden agenda, but she's not the only one keeping secrets, and a series of unintended revelations forces her, Merlin and Arthur on an intertwined journey of revenge, redemption and love.
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, Leon/Morgana (elements of Uther/Morgana, Arthur/Gwen)
Rating: PG-13 (eventual NC-17)
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 5,796
Disclaimer: Not ours. No money is being made. Please don't sue.
Authors' Note: Many thanks once again to ravenflight21 for the beta/Brit-pick.
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
CHAPTER TEN
Arthur made his way down the corridors with a hesitance to his step, mind racing with so many thoughts that it forced an unconscious deliberation to his movements. In a way, Arthur was grateful for the interruption Merlin had provided. It wasn't so much that he wanted to speak with his father, who would no doubt seek to reassure Arthur that his intimate moment with Morgana was nothing more than a gross misunderstanding, as he was struck with the sudden and overwhelming urge to get away from Morgana and her accusations right that very second. As it was, he was still actively working out how to erase the memory of his father and Morgana -- doing... what they'd been doing -- from his mind. Now, on top of that, he had the added burden of trying to interpret and process her ramblings, which may or may not have been entirely out of line.
Uther and his platitudes could wait, as far as Arthur was concerned. It was an attempt to mollify Uther's own guilty conscience as much as an effort to put Arthur's mind at ease, but at the moment Arthur had other far more pressing matters occupying his mind. In the blink of an eye, all of his fury had been upended, spun one hundred and eighty degrees, landing squarely in the tiny -- though ever expanding -- part of Arthur's brain he privately thought of as uncharted territory. It was the place, the little fragment of his heart and mind, where Arthur stored the thoughts and feelings he didn't particularly care to examine or dwell on further, shoved some place deep within him, never to see the light of day.
For the most part, he managed to keep those thoughts locked away, hidden from even his own conscious consideration. But of course, no hiding place was without a key and keyhole to provide entrance. Much as he hated to acknowledge the fact, there were a select few people in Arthur's life who happened to stumble upon the key, whether by accident or with calculated determination, shoving it at him with just the right amount of force to unseal those things he sought to keep hidden. In this particular situation, one small imputation, uttered in the throes of a heated argument as means of distraction, had pierced the fortress, clicking perfectly in place to unlock the thoughts and feelings and fears pouring freely into his mind for analysis.
Does he know, Arthur, that you're in love with him? Morgana's voice continued to mock him, equal parts accusation and amusement, running in a continuous cycle through his brain, making him dizzy with the implication of it all.
The allegation made his stomach churn, twisting with a sick feeling that pooled deep in his belly, not because it was true, but because it wasn't altogether untrue. Arthur would be remiss to deny that there was something there, lurking just below the surface, between him and Merlin, significant and intense and, in many ways, all-encompassing, though Arthur was hesitant to put a name to it, reluctant to define anything. From the first moment he'd laid eyes on Merlin, Arthur knew there was something different -- something unique -- about him, but at the time he hadn't given the thought much regard. And then, without warning, Merlin was thrown into Arthur's life in the most intimate and intrusive of manners. The fumbling, clumsy oaf was reluctantly forced into the role of manservant to the prince, and much to Arthur's surprise, he somehow managed to dig a hole under Arthur's defences, and arrive comfortably on the other side, before Arthur was even aware that anything had really changed at all.
It had been a terrifying revelation at the time, when Arthur realised just how willing he was to risk his life to protect Merlin's. He'd spent his life surrounded by people who swore their undying loyalty and allegiance to him, as a prince, and to Camelot. Never before, though, had Arthur been on the other side of that equation, experiencing the same level of devotion that those around him displayed on a daily basis, and for a servant, no less. Still, their unlikely partnership had blossomed into something more, and after a while Arthur had finally admitted to himself that Merlin was his friend, might possibly have been the only true friend he'd ever had, even if he'd never expressly uttered the sentiment aloud.
But it was here, at the claim that Arthur was in love with Merlin, that his blood ran cold and his breath hitched in his throat. It was not lost on Arthur, the significance of his dreams, or the actions he'd taken in the woods that day not so long ago, cock hard and skin longing for Merlin's touch. He would be lying to himself if he claimed that he'd never had improper thoughts about Merlin prior to the incident, or that he hadn't thought of that particular occurrence since. The reality was that the memory invaded his mind on a daily basis, stabbing and slicing through his defences until he found something to distract himself, or shoved a hand into his breeches and eliminated the tension, if he was lucky enough to have a spare moment to do so, which more often than not was not the case.
Still, no matter the reasons for his burgeoning interest in Merlin, the truth was that nothing could ever happen between them. Even putting aside their difference in rank and class, as well as the fact that Merlin was also male -- both of which would make any union between them highly inappropriate, though not impossible -- Arthur wasn't willing to risk losing him. On any given day, people bustled in and out of a prince's life -- castle servants, visiting nobles and royalty, peasants seeking council to air grievances or settle disputes, even knights came and went, or were killed in battle. It was a reality that steeled hearts and kept emotional attachment at an arm's length, because it served no one's benefit to spend time and energy on people who flitted in and out before any connection could even be made in the first place.
And it was in this way, yet again, Merlin differed from all the others, because he was Arthur's constant companion, reliable and loyal and always present. Present through the royal visits, the council meetings, the battles and wars, hunting trips and patrols, and present through the mundane, routine activities of daily life. He was there with his lopsided grin, funny ears, cheeky comments, and steadfast friendship. Arthur didn't keep Merlin around as a servant because he was skilled at clearing away clutter, or removing dust from his mantle, or shining his boots properly. Arthur kept Merlin as his servant because he was daring enough to challenge Arthur's beliefs and perspectives, even when he had no desire to confront any of those things. He would complain about doing the laundry or preparing a hot bath late in the evening, but would conversely stay up until the early morning hours before a tournament, sharpening Arthur's sword or mending the armour that would keep him from harm. Merlin trusted, defended, supported, challenged, encouraged, respected. Never before had Arthur had someone like Merlin in his life, and the idea of potentially risking it all sat heavy in Arthur's belly like a lead weight.
The reality was that Morgana was not entirely incorrect, not entirely misguided, and while Arthur was not yet willing to concede anything, he was also unequivocally aware that he could no longer deny his attraction to Merlin either. For a moment, he longed for the days of old, when a servant was merely a servant and he wasn't forced to contemplate their role or significance in his life. Yet, there were also times when Arthur forgot that things had been different before Merlin, forgot what it was like to hear "sire" and be treated with the deference that was due, and strangely enough, he desired nothing more than for things to stay as they were right now.
Reaching up, Arthur scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the first signs of the afternoon's stress building behind his eye sockets, and just barely avoided a head-on collision with Gwen.
"Oh, sire, I'm sorry. I didn't even notice you coming around the corner," she said, smiling in her typically exuberant and apologetic manner as she attempted to balance a basket of laundry, rather unsuccessfully, on her right hip.
"It's no bother, Gwen," he said, dredging up a half-smile in the hopes of dissuading her from asking any questions of him.
Unfortunately, his airy comment wasn't convincing enough, however, as her features pulled down into a concerned frown upon seeing Arthur's face. He could only imagine what he looked like at the moment, and actively attempted to school his features to hide any of the distress he was experiencing. "What's wrong?"
"Um, well..." He wasn't sure what to say to Gwen, exactly, especially given the nature with which he'd dismissed her earlier concerns as being little more than idle speculation. Still, he owed it to her to be honest, especially given the risk she'd taken in coming to him in the first place. Several times, Arthur attempted to form the words, mouth open and poised to speak, but at the last second he felt his courage wane. There was no easy way of sharing such delicate information, but word spread quickly in the castle, and there was no doubt that Gwen would find out one way or another, whether through him or other, more questionable means.
"I'm sure you'll hear about this eventually," he sighed, then cast a quick glance around to ensure there were no interlopers lurking about. The corridors were empty, but he dropped his voice anyway, leaning in closer. "But I think I may have been, er, too hasty in my dismissal of your concerns the last time we spoke."
Gwen blinked at him, clearly not following what he was trying to vaguely imply. "I'm sorry?"
Something like irritation settled in his chest, then, though it wasn't aimed in Gwen's direction. It occurred to Arthur in that moment that the responsibility for damage control would rest solely on his shoulders if this information did, somehow, manage to make its way into the serving quarters, and he felt frustration bubble up at the fact that his father and Morgana were placing him in this situation at all. The entire thing was nothing short of completely ludicrous. "Well, it's just that... your concerns in regards to Morgana. And my father--"
There was a pregnant pause that followed his half-sentence, left to hang unfinished as Arthur fought against his desire to recoil from this conversation entirely.
"What about them, sire?" Gwen asked, finally, when it became clear that there was to be no end to Arthur's statement.
"I needed to speak with my father, and I walked in on the two of them together." He swallowed, finding that he couldn't quite meet her gaze. "They were kissing."
Her eyes widened into two round saucers, and a hand flew to instinctively cover her mouth. "You mean---" Gwen waved her hand around, as though that could somehow replace the words she was clearly struggling to form. "Kissing, kissing?"
He might have laughed, in different circumstances, at her words. But that would've been inappropriate, given the serious nature of their discussion, never mind Arthur's own lack of comfort with the topic. Still, he was unable to prevent the slight quirk of his lips all the same. "It wasn't overly intimate, and it was unclear the level of commitment from my father, but there was no mistaking what was going on when we entered."
"So you saw them together, then." Gwen shook her head, as though she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, even though it was obvious the suspicion had been there all along. Suddenly her brows darted high on her forehead and she made a small, thoughtful noise. "Wait, you said 'we'. Someone else was with you?"
"There were no guards in the room. Only Sir Leon and I observed them."
"Sir Leon..." she trailed off, and though Arthur couldn't be quite sure, it sounded as though she was mumbling to herself something along the lines of 'poor man'. What that meant, he didn't even want to begin to contemplate. Gwen shifted the laundry basket to her other hip, leaning to the right to balance herself in the process. "Where is Morgana now?"
Arthur hiked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which he'd come from. "Last I saw her, she was still in my chambers."
"Oh, so you've spoken with her, then? I mean, not that it's any of my business, of course, so you don't have to tell me anything at all..."
"No, it's fine, Guinevere. You tried to warn me and I dismissed your concerns. For that, I apologise." She smiled at him warmly, shaking her head as if it were nothing, though Arthur knew that wasn't the case. He should've believed her, should've trusted in her word. She'd never misled him before. But he'd been too caught up in his own disgust at the prospect that he'd convinced himself that Gwen must have been reading too much into things. Remembering, then, that he still hadn't answered her question, he hastened to add, "She followed me to my chambers. I confronted her about what'd happened, but I wasn't able to get a straight answer out of her."
"What did she say?"
"Not much. That it wasn't a big deal, that my father makes her feel safe, that--" He stopped before he could finish the sentence, brain catching up with his mouth just in time to prevent a reveal of entirely too much information.
Unfortunately for him, Gwen had an eye almost as sharp as Morgana's, and her forehead crinkled curiously. "What? What is it?"
This was not a place he wanted to go right now, though he supposed he'd really prefer to never speak of it again, if possible. If there was anything reassuring about her questioning, however, it was in the knowledge that she would, in fact, back down on this point if he didn't wish to discuss it. Interestingly, it was just another reminder of how Merlin had broken through all the social barriers separating them, while Gwen quietly lurked around its edges, brushing against but never quite stepping through. Merlin wouldn't leave something like this alone, whereas Gwen would, now and possibly always.
It was with this knowledge in hand, grasped firmly between his fingers, that Arthur made a quick decision. "She, um-- She accused me of being in love. With, uh, someone..." he said dumbly. Arthur was blushing already, could feel the heat crawl up the back of his neck, and he was already beginning to regret permitting himself to say anything at all.
Gwen blinked, and then, "Oh." If there were any hidden emotions or thoughts in that single word, they were completely undetectable to him, and he wasn't sure how to interpret her lack of response to his admission.
Instead, he made to downplay the significance of Morgana's claim, as much in the hope of convincing himself as of persuading Gwen. "Yes, well, it was a distraction tactic, without a doubt. I admit it threw me for a bit of a loop, but it was Morgana spewing preposterous ideas around with that exact goal in mind."
"Who did she, uh, accuse you of being in love..." In the same way Arthur found his brain scrambling to catch up with his words, Gwen stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening and mouth formed into a startled 'O'. "No, wait, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that. It's none of my business. Please forgive me." Her gaze fell to the floor and she began to play absently with the cuff of her sleeve, suddenly enraptured by the fabric.
"It's all right, there's no need for apologies," Arthur said quickly, fighting back a sigh. This, too, he had no doubt would get back to Gwen eventually, if Morgana had anything to say about it. It was probably best to come out with it and face her reaction head on, than to be left wondering when she would hear and, more importantly, how she would react to the accusation. Especially if, as Morgana had claimed, Gwen already suspected he was in love with someone else. Swallowing the knot of anxiety in his gut, Arthur surged forward before he had time to think better of the decision. "She said that I was in love with, er, Merlin."
A single brow arched high on her forehead. "Merlin."
It should have been a question, but it sounded far more like a statement of fact than Arthur was comfortable with. Even more distressing was the lack of surprise or horror he'd been expecting (or hoping, possibly only hoping) from her, as if the thought wasn't an entirely new one and perhaps almost anticipated. Arthur couldn't even begin to think about what that could possibly imply, didn't want to even try. He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, pointedly ignoring the embarrassed heat radiating from his all-too-obviously red face.
"Yes, can you believe her? As if I'd ever fall in love with Merlin," Arthur scoffed, though it sounded a bit weak, even to his own ears. It was funny, how he was believing his own words less and less, the more he thought or spoke about Merlin. It filled Arthur with a sense of impending dread, and he closed his eyes temporarily, willing the thoughts from his conscious consideration.
When his eyes re-opened, it was to the sight of Gwen staring at him, a discerning expression painted across her features, and Arthur didn't like the knowing look she was giving him. He didn't like it at all. Silence filled the air, and Gwen's hesitation was nearly palpable in its overtness. There was something she wanted to say, he could just feel it, but likely her sense of deference and propriety prevented the words from taking form.
"Well, you know how Morgana can get when she feels cornered," Gwen finally said as way of support -- though he certainly didn't feel any better -- and reached out to gently pat his arm, as if she were consoling a small child over his broken toy. It made Arthur feel decidedly more uncomfortable, if that were even possible.
Arthur grunted in what he hoped came across as an affirmation of Gwen's statement, suddenly desiring nothing more than to speak with his father after all.
After a lengthy and mildly awkward pause, they both spoke at the same time.
"I should probably--"
"I suppose it would be wise--"
Gwen smiled, a soft chuckle tumbling past her lips, and Arthur felt a bit of the sudden tension dissipate. "You first," she suggested.
Arthur found himself unconsciously returning her smile. "I was saying that I should probably be on my way. My father is waiting to speak with me."
"Right. Of course." She nodded quickly, glancing down at the large basket of laundry still in her arms. "I should go too. To, um, finish the laundry."
"Yes, well, that sounds good." Arthur coughed softly, stepping to the side to allow Gwen to pass by.
"Sire," she said, ducking her head respectfully as she moved past him down the hallway.
Just before she rounded the corner he called out to her one last time, a final thought poking at the back of his mind. She stopped, turning to glance back at him inquisitively. "If you could maybe talk to Morgana...?"
"I will," she promised, and then finally disappeared from his sight.
With a sigh, Arthur scrubbed a hand down his face, mentally preparing to face his father as he forced his limbs to move once more, heaviness weighing down each step that brought him closer to the throne room. It was already beginning to feel like an impossibly long day, and he had this sudden feeling that it wouldn't be over for some time still.
Merlin stared at her hand tightening around his forearm, the apprehension on his face a bleak mask, but he made no move to escape. Satisfied that he wasn't going to bolt, Morgana made sure the doors were closed, and gestured for him to sit down at Arthur's dining table. He eased carefully into a chair, never taking his eyes off her.
"I need you to do something for me," Morgana said, and held up a hand at the defiant expression forming on his face, no doubt a harbinger of some stupidly brave remark. "And I'll tell you why you're going to do it."
He swallowed a retort, and said nothing, which she took as invitation to go on.
"The thing is, Merlin," she said, weighing her words deliberately. She was taking a bit of a gamble here, considering she hadn't had any time to really process the discovery that Arthur was in love with his manservant -- and how stupendously ludicrous and yet utterly natural that thought was -- but time was one thing she didn't have. What she did have, however, was deductive skill. "I know why you're here. I know why you choose to stay in Camelot, to hide who you are and risk death everyday."
"Do you?" he said tightly.
Morgana smiled, and it was almost affectionate; she remembered teasing him about liking Gwen once or twice, and the gaping and sputtering he'd do at her, and the way she'd laughed.
"It's because of Arthur, isn't it?" she said. "He's dear to you."
Merlin's lips pressed together in a thin line, like he was afraid of saying too much, though his tense silence spoke just as loudly. "He's good to me," he said, at length. "It's better than most servants could expect. And he'll make a great king some day. I only want to help him get there."
"Oh, that's sweet," Morgana said dully. "So it's just blind loyalty, then, and nothing more?"
Merlin gave her an impatient look. "What are you getting at?"
She rolled her shoulders impassively. "It's just a bit suspicious, don't you think, how dedicated you are to him?"
A flicker of worry danced across his face; she was moving in the right direction. "It's my job," said Merlin.
"Oh, no, Merlin. Washing his socks and making sure he gets breakfast on time is your job. What doesn't fall under your duties is being desperately in love with him." She let the words hang in the air for a moment, let them take their time to sink in, while she scrutinised him closely.
It was a little surprising how easy it was to read him now, considering that in all the time she'd known him, it had never once occurred to her to suspect him of being a murdering sorcerer. At the moment, however, every trace of trepidation and anxiety stood out starkly on his face, and it was clear that her gambit had paid off. He was just as in love with Arthur as Arthur was with him, and neither of them had a bloody clue about it. Had she stumbled upon this three months ago, she'd have probably been first in line to lock them in a small room together until they sorted it out -- or at least would have threatened to, with no small amount of glee -- but the way things stood now, the best she could do was to manipulate those feelings into means for her ends.
It gave her no pleasure to know that Arthur might wind up hurt by all of this, but he was strong and he'd get over it eventually. Right now there were much more important things at stake.
Merlin's eyebrows knotted together, pulling the rest of his features into line, hiding his insecurity under a sheen of annoyance. "Is this going somewhere? I do have chores to do."
"I'll take it as true, then? Tell me, Merlin, how can you claim to love someone and yet lie to his face every single day?"
"I never said anything of the kind," Merlin retorted.
Morgana noted privately that he wasn't outright denying having feelings for Arthur either, which was fair enough, considering that if she were in his position she'd play everything as closely to the chest as possible. But, of course, she wasn't Merlin; if she had been, she wouldn't have been surprised by what came out of his mouth next.
"And even if it was true," Merlin said, his eyes darkening with intent, "at least I'm doing it to protect him from harm. From people like you. You would kill Arthur ten times over just to achieve your own ends. The sleeping spell, the snake in the forest -- he would have died because of you."
"I had nothing to do with that," Morgana snapped, a chill seizing her insides at the thought of Arthur pushed so close to death.
Merlin shook his head. "Just because you aren't the one drawing his blood doesn't mean you get to wash your hands of responsibility. You're the reason why these things happened. You started this."
"Uther started this," she hissed. "His hatred and his selfishness are why we have to live like this, why we have to die for being born this way. Don't tell me you wouldn't want things to be different."
"Of course I do, and in time, it will be different. Arthur will make the difference."
"In time?" Morgana scoffed. "If Uther's reign goes on for the next twenty years, you'll just wait it out? Watch him execute magic users left and right until there's no one left? And who's to say Arthur will deal with it any better? You know how he was raised, and the longer he lives under Uther's laws, the more inured he'll become to it."
"So you'll kill him first, just in case?" Merlin said snidely.
Morgana's jaw clenched. "I told you, I had nothing to do with Arthur being attacked." The glare of accusation burned a little too hot, and she knew that if the conversation continued down this path, she might end up admitting to things she didn't want to think of, and capitulating to feelings she'd kept buried deep inside. She had a mission to carry out, for the good of Camelot, for the fading light of the Old Religion, and there was no leeway for emotional diversions. At least, not that of her own emotions.
Forcing them aside, she shot Merlin as condescending and controlled a look as she could manage. "It is noble of you, I suppose," she vouchsafed, tilting her head to study him like a dead specimen pinned to a board. "So willing to give your life up for someone who wouldn't think twice about ending yours. It doesn't matter to you that Arthur was brought up to believe that all sorcery is evil? That if you were found out, he'd set the pyre aflame himself if his father ordered it?"
"Arthur's not like that, and you know it."
"Isn't he?" Morgana countered. "Think of how long it took him to intervene when Gaius was sentenced to death last year for suspected sorcery. He's known Gaius his entire life; he's practically a second father to Arthur. And you think Arthur would rush to protect you after you've been lying to him all this time? Making a fool of him?"
Merlin only looked at her calmly. "I trust Arthur with my life, under any circumstance. Maybe you don't have faith in him, but I do."
It was a saccharine sentiment, probably meant to be touching in some capacity, but its sickly sweetness only infuriated Morgana. That Merlin should remain so unruffled at the prospect of offering up his secret and placing his life in Arthur's hands, without fear or recrimination, stung. It wasn't resignation that made him this way, it was an unassailable confidence in Arthur's character -- the depths of his heart and his inherent sense of justice -- that gave Merlin this self-assurance. He was only a servant, while she had lived under this roof for more than half her life, as a part of the family, yet she still didn't know if she could expect that same treatment from Uther -- or even Arthur, for that matter -- if she was the one to divulge her secret.
"Is that so?" she challenged, swallowing her own doubts. "Well, when Arthur returns, perhaps we should test this theory."
A flash of uncertainty alit on Merlin's face for a brief second, but he met her gaze steadily. "I'm sure he would find it equally interesting to hear what you're up to."
"Please," Morgana said, dismissive. "What makes you think Arthur would take your word over mine?"
Merlin shrugged. "Maybe he won't, and maybe you'll be rid of me after all, but Arthur's clever. Once he's got an idea in his head he won't let it go until he's seen it through to the last. You've already got guards watching you day and night; do you really want to risk drawing Arthur's attention to your movements as well?"
Morgana narrowed angry eyes at him. Again that quiet confidence about Arthur, that insouciance to her threats; he was turning out to be far less tractable than she'd thought. And even as she knew that she would never have worked up the fortitude to do so, the thought that perhaps she should have killed him when she'd had the chance ran across her mind. She needed him now, however, to keep Arthur's mind at ease about her and Uther, and if she didn't have a strong enough hold over him using Arthur, then she'd just have to take it one step up the chain of command.
"I don't think you fully understand me, Merlin. I don't need to use your sorcery against you -- it's just convenient. I don't even need a smidgen of truth to make your life a living hell. If I screamed right now, told the guards you'd tried to attack me, who do you think they're going to believe? Whose side do you think Uther would take?" She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You're just a servant boy. But me? I matter."
"Then why don't you use that for good?" Merlin demanded. "You could do so much with just one word."
She levelled a heated glare at him. "Don't you think I've tried? Uther clapped me in chains for speaking against him. His head is so full of the lies he's spun there's no room for reason."
"And destroying Camelot is supposed to help? Killing everyone who cares about you will make it better?"
"It isn't like that," she insisted.
All of a sudden Merlin's expression softened; it made him look so young and untainted that for a moment Morgana could have believed every word he uttered, and that was so much worse than if he had castigated her instead. "I don't know what you're planning, Morgana, but if you have to hurt other people to get it done, then it isn't right," he said.
Morgana lifted her chin. "It's no worse than what Uther's done to his people for the entirety of his reign. I'm doing Camelot a favour."
"I know you're hurt and disappointed and angry," Merlin went on in a gentle voice, like he was afraid of spooking her, "but if you let that guide your actions, by the end you won't have anything to hold onto except your own bitterness."
Abruptly she was reminded of Leon, dear Leon, who had let go of his pain and sorrow and turned himself from a recalcitrant ruffian as a youth into a man anyone would be proud to call friend. A lash of shame whipped through her at the thought of the difference in their paths, what he might think of her if he knew she'd only come back to seek deadly vengeance. It was unavoidable now; she'd tried to bury it under the guise of justice, but it seared through her fortifications, and she knew, as she'd known all along, that what she was doing to Uther was plainly and simply wrong.
But just because two wrongs didn't make a right didn't mean she could stand idly by and do nothing while Uther continued to spread his petty lies around and take the lives of innocents. Maybe Merlin was content to just wait until Arthur took the throne and threw all the laws out the window, but Morgana couldn't. For over twenty years, hundreds of people had suffered at Uther's hands, and she wasn't willing to give him twenty more, nor was she willing to bank on Arthur having the courage to rule in opposition of his father's legacy. And maybe what she was doing wasn't right, but at least it would be better than what they had now.
Morgause wanted to take the kingdom by magic and by force, and Merlin wanted to leave it be, and either way, by the end one of them would find the blood of hundreds on their hands. But for Morgana, there would be one casualty and one alone, and that, she thought, she could live with. If she could only see her plan through, Uther would make her his queen, and once it was certain that all authority would be left to her upon his passing, she would engineer his death, and Camelot would be hers to heal.
She shook her head at Merlin, and tried not to let him see the traces of her regret. "I have to do this," she said, with more conviction than she currently felt.
"Morgana, no," Merlin said.
"And," she continued, as though he hadn't spoken, "if you don't want me screaming for the guards, you'll do as I say."
He dropped his head, disappointed.
"Arthur may speak to you of my relationship with Uther. I need you to convince him that there's nothing to worry about. And if you can't do that," Morgana said, when Merlin looked at her as though he was going to start arguing again, "then at least keep him occupied with something else. I don't care what; just keep him out of my way."
"What are you going to do?" Merlin asked, chary.
"I won't hurt Arthur, if that's what you're thinking. And that's all you need to know."
Before Merlin could make any further protest, Morgana pushed away from the table and strode out of Arthur's chambers, the echo of her footsteps through the corridors a mocking accompaniment to her solitude.
Continue to Chapter Eleven