Chapter Text
"Then what?" Merlin demanded. "I know that you can do it. I've seen you perform spells twice as-"
Morgana cut him off again, "I can't perform this spell!" He looked at her silently for a moment, his eyes carefully moving over her downcast face. She continued twirling the ends of her braid around her fingers, her lower lip pushed stubbornly forward as she stood rigidly in the shade. Merlin watched as her eyelids blinked rapidly, until she finally raised tear-filled eyes that stared from an angry face.
"You're right, " she murmured, and her voice was hoarse. "We're not the same, Merlin. I'm not just exhausted..." She licked her lips and looked away; he watched her pulse moved rapidly on her throat. Once again Morgana wrapped her arms around herself and said in a whisper, "I am actually drained. I feel that it's gone."
"What?" Merlin asked quietly, almost afraid. Morgana's eyes trained on him again, empty of tears but definitely afraid.
"My magic."
Merlin had folded his arms across his chest as his mind worked through what Morgana had admitted, unconsciously mirroring her own stance. She waited in the silence, watching as his eyes flickered over the ground, avoiding her.
"This is what you meant, yes? That I would get what I deserved? You hoped for it?"
"Stop it, Morgana." Merlin finally looked at her again. His expression was pained and uncertain.
"You look guilty, Merlin," she leaned forward onto the balls of her feet. "Did you do this?"
"No!" Merlin raised his hands toward her, warding off her accusation. Morgana scoffed in disbelief.
"Then you are pleased. Well, who's surprised? After you forced back all my efforts to help Camelot, to surpass what Uther and Arthur had done for its people, for some of its people, what could I expect?" Her bitterness brought Merlin angrily in front of her and he glared down at her.
"Don't try and excuse your actions with these delusions about saving Camelot anymore, Morgana," he hissed. She could feel his breath on her cheeks.
"Some savior!" His eyes were orange but he didn't appear to notice. "It disgusts me to think of all those who died at your hands in the light of how you think of them. They were not beneath you, Morgana. Camelot's citizens, magic-folk or not...those knights! My friends. My family. Your-" Merlin's rage seemed to choke him. "People who-who could have been your friends. Who could have helped you."
Merlin backed away from her, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. Morgana had progressively shaken more and more as he berated her, unable to speak, and now barely contained the despair on her face. She set her chin and angrily brushed a hand across her eyes, but Merlin did not see. He had backed into a tree and was breathing harshly, his pale face violently marked by reddened eyes. He looked up, and his eyes held their own immensity of despair, but Morgana did not see. Her chest heaved with emotion under her crossed arms and her gaze swung futilely across the forest, finally resting on Merlin.
"No one was going to help me."
The two stared at each other in the rising heat of midday. Morgana felt her own intentions clash with what Merlin had laid out for her, mind at war as she watched sullen anger, then guilt, then sadness play themselves out across Merlin's features. His sadness wasn't for her. Morgana let herself heave a sigh and gazed back at him with equal sadness.
"What ifs. Maybes. " Her whisper carried through the forest.
"Should haves." He agreed. With his own sigh, Merlin pushed himself away from the tree and came toward her, with no aggression this time.
"I'll heal you completely this time," he told her and reached forward. Morgana took a few hurried steps back.
"I don't-I don't think that's-you don't have to-," her hands warding him off in embarrassment. Merlin only shook his head, looking determined.
"It's fine."
But Morgana angled herself away from him until her legs hit another fallen tree, and she sat down surprised. Merlin took the opportunity to crouch in front of her.
"Morgana, I said it's fine." He settled onto one knee, propping an elbow on his other. His attempt to give her a neutral look was belied by a slight eagerness in his voice.
Morgana had leaned away from him, but bit her lip and slowly sat straighter. In a last effort, she said, "I know you don't care about me, Merlin, if not outright hate me. I don't expect-"
Merlin waved a hand in frustration.
"For once, Morgana," he said with exasperation, "Just let me do something without opposition, or a fight, or a dig. This has nothing to do with you." He swallowed uneasily. "You're slowing us down."
Morgana blinked a few times, before nodding in silence. Merlin nodded in return and scooted closer. With a slight turn, Morgana had her right side in front of him but didn't move any further. He cleared his throat and set his left hand on her thigh, spreading his fingers across the tear in her trousers. Morgana still didn't move, so Merlin used his index finger to poke her arm away from covering her ribs. Shocked, she opened her mouth to object, but Merlin caught her gaze before she spoke.
"Both at the same time," he told her as his hand slid under the side of her jacket, but he looked apprehensive. Morgana looked down at his hands with curiosity, felt her skin getting warmer through the bandage on her ribs and even through her leather trousers, but shrugged.
"Show-off," she muttered. "Well, you've started already, so you might as well keep going."
She watched his head tip closer to her injuries as he murmured, "I haven't started."
He didn't register the red blooms on her cheeks, how her eyes blinked in slight confusion. Morgana wiggled a bit on the log, impatiently holding her arm out.
"Well start then. Start the spell." Merlin nodded and pressed his palms into her skin a little harder, whispering a variety of healing spells, some she had heard before. Her skin grew even warmer as the pain was seemingly drawn out into the air to disappear and she closed her eyes in honest relief. Then he finally drew his hands away, the tips of his fingers the last to leave. He straightened and backed away a few steps.
"Better?"
Morgana nodded, her eyes still slightly closed, her hand returning to her ribs to tentatively put pressure on them. She felt completely normal, like nothing had happened. Merlin nodded back, turned abruptly to grab his robe that had fallen to the ground at some time he wasn't paying attention.
"Easy," he coughed slightly, inclining his head toward the east. "Let's keep going." Morgana stood and followed him toward the darker forest, again a short distance behind him. Suddenly he heard a rush of steps and felt a tug on the back of his neckerchief. Merlin turned quickly to find Morgana right behind him. She drew her hand back and widened the distance between them.
"Thank you, Merlin." He could hear her remaining uncertainty about his motives in her tone, so Merlin just nodded. She nodded in return and raised her eyebrows when he didn't move for a few moments. He nodded again and turned away to continue into the woods.
When he didn't hear steps behind him, Merlin swiveled around, walking backward as he searched for her. Morgana had tossed the dirty ribbon of her makeshift bandage to the ground, now wearing only her jacket. She reached skyward to stretch her torso, rose on her tiptoes. Her eyes were closed, and Merlin stopped as the setting afternoon sun created the silhouette of a now healthy and strong Morgana le Fey; he refused to use magic to see the strip of skin up her sternum. When she settled on her feet and faced his direction her face was in shadow but Merlin could still see her green eyes.
Merlin had visited this particular lake many times before, and already for one burial. As he and Morgana walked silently through the forest, only the sound of their breathing and the rasp of their fingers on helpful tree branches permeated the twilight air. Despite knowing that a healthy Morgana was dangerous, magic or no, he felt better having her follow behind him. She had a tendency to exploit weakness, and approaching this waterfront made him feel especially vulnerable. He couldn't let her see it.
Morgana, for her part, had noticed the hunch in his shoulders even in the dimming sunset. She knew the attitudes of those bony shoulders well, and they were full of dread. Was it because of Arthur only? She hauled herself up a slight incline after him, unconsciously rubbing her newly healed ribs, with a pondering twist of her mouth.
The darkness before the moon could do its work soon became a hindrance, and Merlin slowed. They moved as if attached with a string; Merlin using his magical eyesight to spot dips in the earth with Morgana swerving after him. Often his white hand had not yet pushed off a tree's trunk when her hand landed next to it. As the moon rose to then light their way, Morgana let the distance grow between them, shaking off the small smile that she had suddenly been startled to find on her lips. Merlin didn't have time to notice that her footsteps were fainter behind him as the trees gave way to a small waterfront and a smallish lake placidly rolling before them.
"We're here," Merlin said and started toward the water with a purpose. With confusion, Morgana followed after him, brushing forest debris and dirt from herself. Merlin stopped with the toes of his boots in the lake and, before Morgana could question what was going on, his eyes were alight with magic. He uttered a single word of power and waited. Morgana's gaze flickered between Merlin's calm face and to the lake's surface where he seemed to be staring. Everything was still for a long while, the moon continuing to rise and the lake only growing more tranquil.
In fact, the lake's surface was perfectly glassy when the woman emerged from the water, her slow walk bringing her progressively closer to the shore. Morgana stared as water ran from the woman's brown hair and white clothing until they were dry, observing a sweet face that looked very much like it belonged on any village daughter. The woman's face was an ancient solemn, however, until she stopped a few feet in front of Merlin. Then a smile, full of sorrow and intimacy, spread across her face. She held out her arms.
"Freya," Merlin sighed, and he stepped into the woman's embrace. He closed his eyes, his fingers fisting themselves in her long hair.
Morgana observed their hug with raised eyebrows, not in surprise but curiosity.
"Hello, water-woman," she said, with a perfunctory and extremely slight bend at her waist. "I am Morgana le Fey, although I'm sure you know that. I am Merlin's captive." Her head tilted to the side and she smiled. "Well. For the moment."
"Morgana!" Merlin hissed in admonishment as he slid out of Freya's arms.
But Freya placed her hand in his and said, "Yes, you are Morgana le Fey." Freya's eyes held no hint of reproof or intimidation. "I do know that."
Morgana smiled and gave a slow blink of satisfaction. She raised a hand in Merlin's direction.
"I can leave Merlin here with you, dear, if you prefer. I have other places to go and people to-"
Merlin rolled his eyes and said quickly, "I am taking Morgana to the Isle of the Blessed." He turned back to Freya, holding both of her hands. "Can I take her there? All that I've tried to do...will this help in any way?"
Morgana gave a slightly indignant scoff but Merlin ignored her. Freya looked him in the eye but appeared more to be remembering something. Her brow furrowed, but then smoothed as an apparent decision was made. She squeezed his fingers.
"It is important for you to witness the sending off of your king." Merlin frowned.
"But-" he began, while Freya interrupted him to produce a bundle from somewhere, and set it in his hands. She had handed one to Morgana too before either one could say anymore.
"The knights come at daybreak. You can rest," Freya nodded toward the bundles, "and change and eat." She raised a pale hand toward a rise in the bank of the lake, taller than a man, where weeping willow fronds curtained over the small cliff to touch the water. With a hint of authority, Freya said to Morgana, "You'll have privacy over there."
Morgana looked from Freya to Merlin, both of their gazes expectant. After a moment, Morgana bounced the bundle slightly in her hands and pressed her lips together in mock excitement.
"Thank you," she said with condescension, but slid past Merlin and crunched along the beach to where Freya had pointed.
"I'm sorry for her, Freya," Morgana heard Merlin mutter before she was out of earshot. With an eye-roll, Morgana brushed the weeping willow's green tendrils aside. The beach continued along the bank but a portion of the lake was beneath the overhang as well. Enough room for a person to bathe and to sleep. Morgana unwrapped the bundle to find it was a blanket, containing a pair of black breeches that well-matched her torn ones, a gray tunic, and an apple and hard cheese. She set it all on the bank and let out a genuine gasp of delight to see a small sliver of soap. Peeling her grimy jacket and torn trousers from her body, she stepped into the water.
Knowing that Merlin and Freya would hear the splashes, Morgana used her wilderness-bath to watch them surreptitiously. When she peered through the greenery Merlin was animatedly gesturing as Freya nodded; Morgana knew he was telling her about the previous day. Sometimes his hand would thrust in her direction, tense with frustration and fingers outspread, and Morgana couldn't help but shudder and withdraw slightly. But she quickly dressed in the new clothing and emerged, eating the cheese.
Freya stood in the same place before, now alone. Some rustling in the forest where they had come from told Morgana that Merlin was now changing himself. Nonchalantly, Morgana stepped in front of Freya and ate beside her.
"I suppose I should not fear death, then?" Morgana asked, a secretive smile playing on her lips between bites. "Is it easy to become a lady of a lake?" Morgana took a bit of the apple and crossed her arms in front of her chest, a listening posture on her frame. Freya had been gazing at the shore but she turned slightly to look at Morgana, her eyes filled with sadness.
"Your fear of death makes you want it," Freya said softly after a long pause. Morgana stopped chewing.
"You destroy and burn, where others try to create, and you enjoy the power of it. The earth is scorched where you have occupied it. I see those scars as they stretch across time, an unfortunate legacy of a vulnerable soul."
Morgana trembled with anger, apple forgotten in her gripping hand. "You know nothing of my power and what I tried to create," she spat, leaning toward Freya. "I scorched what needed to burn. I was not weak. The marks I leave-." Morgana felt a hand spin her around and the apple flew out of her fingers.
"Get away from her, Morgana," Merlin protested, releasing her quickly when Morgana's nails raked across the top of his hand. On unsteady feet, Morgana stumbled in the water, regaining her balance on the shore.
"I was the only one," she hissed to the night air. Morgana raised her finger accusingly at Freya. "I 'burned' the earth? I cleansed the earth."
Filled with rage, Morgana seemed to actively contain her trembling, fingers clenched around the wet braid on her right shoulder. She backed away from them into the shadows surrounding the lake but Merlin saw the tears glinting in her eyes. Stopping suddenly, she declared, "See what grows from my scorched earth!" and she spun around, melting into the weeping willow without another sound.
Merlin watched Freya carefully for a moment. "Are you alright?" She nodded, and noticed how he held one hand in the other, deep red scratches marring his pale skin. He glanced down at his hand and then looked questioningly at the understanding in her eyes. Freya put her own hand over his.
"Her marks last forever."