by GR Griffin
Morgana appeared unaffected by the notion of beasts and monsters, consumed in curiosity instead. Her eyes were latched onto the back of Merlin’s head, meeting his eyes intently whenever he glanced over his shoulder to ensure they were still there. Ten paces ahead, Merlin walked straight through the trees, vanishing from sight.
Morgana and Arthur did the same, and were surprised at where the rough shoves of branches had spat them out. In this small area no larger than forty metres of so, vaguely resembling a spherical shape, was a clearing of silvery grass. In the centre of the clearing a ginormous stub, remnants of an ancient tree that had fallen, stood majestically. Here the moonlight was able to reach, crawling down from the skies to submerge the clearing in a beautiful glow. Smiling softly at the pair, eyes drifting naturally towards Arthur, Merlin finally spoke.
“No creature will be stupid enough to enter this clearing or its surroundings. This is a protected place.”
His lips curled up into a gentle smile, directed at Morgana who sat down on the grass as instructed to do so. Merlin took a seat on the deceased tree stump, and Arthur became aware that he too should probably sit. As he sat, Merlin’s saccharine voice rang through his ears; a pang of guilt enshrouded him as he recalled how he had treated her earlier.
“So Morgana, how can I help?”
Turning to the blonde man for a moment, Morgana twisted her lips and resigned to speaking in a quiet voice rather unlike her usual bravado of confidence.
“When I was younger I had terrible nightmares. I saw things…”
She began to tell the story of her childhood, how Arthur had taken care of her (Merlin flickered his soft gaze to him for a moment, a strange warmth filled Arthur’s chest at this gesture) and how they seemed to escalate out of control rapidly.
“…Gaius prescribed her with some medication for it,” Arthur supplied informatively, knowing time was not on their side in this matter. “and after a year of medication, they went away.”
Laughing bitterly, the woman shook her head slowly.
“I never thought I’d have them again. But here, Albion, they’ve returned. Sometimes they don’t feel like dreams at all. It’s like I’m peering into a void of something else, and inside I see-” her words faded as she winced hesitantly.
Swallowing-hard, Merlin’s face became severe, as hard as a weathered stone that continued to stand despite the climatological warfare. This was far more serious than he could have imagined. He knew he had failed to mask his concerns. Turning his head to Arthur absently, he lowered his voice.
“Arthur, keep watch.” He commanded.
This was no matter for Arthur. This was…something Merlin had to address in private. Raising his eyebrows, Arthur narrowed his eyes at the druid. He was never one to listen to Merlin’s orders. Thus, he focused his mind and directed his thoughts into Merlin’s, with as much force as he could muster.
There’s nobody here. Why can’t I stay?
For a moment Merlin’s eyes sharpened, his gaze almost demonic in nature. He fiercely replied with wide, serious eyes.
Just do it you prat.
Huffing wearily, Arthur stood up from his position and made his way towards the trees. The trees that were closest to the pair in the clearing mind you. Arthur was conspicuous in his evident plan to spy upon their words. The druid sitting opposite Morgana coughed rather loudly, almost in amusement. Arthur ground his teeth together in irritation, awaiting that voice to plague his mind to reveal his plans were foiled. It arrived swiftly.
The other side, there is no need to eavesdrop in this. I will tell you my findings later.
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Arthur spun on his heel and petulantly marched off into the distance, conjuring a sphere similar to the nature of Merlin’s blue orb to keep him company in the darkness beyond the clearing. Unlike Merlin’s orb, Arthur’s was a fiery red, mirroring the colour of his face and the irritation stirring inside him. To the druid’s relief, Morgana did not notice how he supressed a grin, clearly humoured by Arthur’s childish behaviour. Once the blonde man became nothing but a mirage between the gentle rocking of the tree’s arms, the raven-haired man continued and leant towards the woman eagerly.
“Morgana, what kind of things have you seen?”
Her eyes cast down to the ground, unsure what to say or how to even begin to describe her strange encounters at night. A hand touched hers lightly, and as she lifted her head she was met with a soothing smile. Sighing, the woman shut her eyes for brief moment. When they opened, Merlin removed his hand sceptically for a reason he did not reveal, but his eyes remained fixated warily on her own.
“I saw your face. I knew who you were before I met you.” She whispered. “Sure Arthur talks about you all time,” a mischievous element wavered in her tone for a moment, examining Merlin’s instinctive smile. It faded as she continued. “But I’ve never seen you. How is it possible, Emrys?”
At the ancient, powerful name, Merlin cocked his head to one side, not exactly sure how to respond to her words. It fell effortlessly off her tongue, the magic language seemed destined to resonate from her mouth. He tired to cast it aside, perhaps Arthur had accidentally let the fact slip that he was Emrys. Though he knew instantly that was untrue, he trusted Arthur had not spread around Merlin’s real identity; something else as at work here. Merlin inconspicuously showed no emotion or sign of recognition to the name. The more people knew about Emrys, the more danger Ealdor –and admittedly himself- were in.
“Anything else?”
His meticulous questions appeared to appease Morgana to drop the subject and press on with the real matter. She nodded enthusiastically, using her hands to aid her descriptions.
“…Fire blazing through the forests, destruction, people screaming, druids screaming. Dragons. Lions. There was great bloodshed and war. I saw Uther, I saw it all.”
“And how do the things you see…” Merlin grappled to find the right word and settled with one. “…unfold?”
“They don’t. By the time one begins it fades into another confusing scene.”
“Do you ever hear voices? Words?”
“There’s never words. The words are always blurred out.”
Twisting his lips together, Merlin wished he could allow himself to reveal the anxiety spreading over his body. But this was a complicated situation that had to be dealt with delicacy. Morgana was working for Camelot. Any notion of magic was dangerous. However, the resemblance to his visions in the Crystals, to confronting visions of the future- it was uncanny. Even more unnerving was the fact that the things she had seen appeared far more detailed than the hazy stabs of tabloids he saw. A little fascinated, he bit his tongue rapidly before it spilled the wrong type of questions, questions that would encourage her and convince her of the truth. Then Morgana spoke, and he knew the words would come to haunt him for many nights.
“…Is it magic Merlin?”
He felt a great shadow hover over him, and knew that he was going to have to make a choice.
It was a difficult choice where both options had their benefits and drawbacks. A choice that he should not even have to make, because in reality it was not his fate or Ealdor’s that lay in his hands. It was Morgana’s: a woman he had just met. Scanning her profile slowly, his eyes rested on an irritable patch of swollen, bruised skin on her arms. Subconsciously, he had already made the choice and dived towards her arms urgently, steering the conversation away from magic and seers. Examining her arm, it seemed that the gods were favoured towards this choice too as a substantial amount of bite marks which had induced violent swelling and redness in some areas.
“These don’t look so good.” he hissed, wincing a little at their severity.
It appeared that the newcomers were not as immune to the course of nature here as the druids were. He wondered for a moment if Uther and his team had considered that the bugs out here were less passive than in their world, and if he had even bothered to think about special remedies for those who may suffer from them. T
he humans really were naïve to this world, he thought with a wicked twinkle in their eyes. Gazing down at her arms, she furrowed her brows together.
“What is it?”
Merlin had learnt many of his skills in healing and diagnosis from Gaius. When Gaius had been in Ealdor, before Balinor had raised the importance of his stay in the other world, they had searched the land for herbs. He quickly recalled Gaius’ lecture on bugs and some of the traits of their bites. The bites on Morgana’s arms resembled the classic trademarks of a Fruten fly, a nasty flying bug with a nastier hallucinogen mixed into its bites. His eyes lit up in realisation at this. Her bites were substantial. There were at least ten.
Now the gods were really supporting this choice. Merlin frowned a little dramatically, holding a hand to his chin.
“You’ve been bitten rather extensively by a Fruten. Fruten bites have the ability to cause vivid hallucinations and in some cases intense nightmares.” Touching his hand to her swollen skin that was smouldering hot, he met her eyes.
“Can you remember when you got these bites?” he asked.
“I got bitten a few times when I first came here. But most of these happened the evening befo-“ halting mid-sentence, she glanced at Merlin’s knowing stare and the hope of her nightmares being more than just nightmares shattered helplessly in front of her eyes. Gesturing for her to continue, Merlin held in a subdued sigh. He could see the disappointment emanating from her eyes.
“Before the nightmares started.” She said slowly, an admission of her delusional beliefs wrapping around her mind.
For a moment, she reminded herself of Uther, so blinded by heavy belief in one thing that she would not listen to any other explanation simply because she didn’t want to be wrong. Emptiness consumer her. She was foolish to have even considered magic it seemed. Part of her questioned the nightmares of her childhood. But her curiosity fizzled out as the cold realisation that she was not the only child to have nightmares, and such things were probably common due to traumatic events, such as being orphaned perhaps.
Noticing her upset, Merlin stood up and the moment he had his back turned clamped his eyes tightly shut in distress. He shouldn’t have to make these decisions, turn people away from what was so clearly inside them just because destiny and fate deemed it could not be. Blinking rapidly, he silently let the held breath escape his lips and wiped his eyes quickly. Before guilt could devour him, he sprang into action and searched the clearing. He was doing the right thing. And these Fruten bites had no doubt helped to awaken what was inside her.
“The Fruten,” he began, kneeling down in the grass. “they are pesky things. I remember being bitten when I was younger, gosh the things I dreamt that night-“ his words escaped him as he glanced back at the woman who smiled weakly. Picking up the herbs from the ground, he strode back towards her.
“The scent of this particular plant should fend off any Fruten that manage to get into your room, but beware the effects of your recent bites could last up to a few more nights.”
Taking the heather-scented herbs from Merlin’s hands, Morgana nodded silently and then unexpectedly reached out and drew her arms around him. Returning the embrace, startled, Merlin grimaced.
“Thank you Merlin.” She whispered as she released him.
Sheepishly he smiled back at the beautiful woman. He recalled the incident back in Ealdor momentarily and shot her a bashful look.
“I suppose I owe you an apology for earlier. I didn’t mean to be hostile; it’s just the clan.” He frowned, sometimes the Elders demonstrated behaviour that defied the peaceful aura they were assumed to posses. “They don’t-”
“-You owe me nothing Merlin. It is I who owe you.” She replied, her smiles finally began to reach her eyes.
Scratching the back of his head, Merlin audibly grumbled. Life seemed to be a character of dark humour and ironic jokes only itself could laugh at. Part of him wondered why it chose to taunt him further.
“I wish you could stay,” he said earnestly, the tone of his voice drenched in poignancy. The thought of the raven-haired woman joining Arthur, Lance and Gwaine in their daily life instigated a raw smile. He had heard many times from Arthur how the pair bickered, much like he and Arthur did. Watching the blonde man get beaten in a verbal duel by somebody other than himself would be hilarious. Besides, Gwenevere did not exactly get on with most of the females in the clan – some of them were particularly notorious for being fussy with choosing their friends- aside from the rather pallid Prouna. Unable to control his sudden swell of happiness, Merlin turned to her.
“Gwen would love to have someone like you around.” Will would have too, he did not say aloud, unsure if she would understand the humour embedded behind the words.
For a moment, Morgana was foolish to allow herself to imagine what life in Ealdor would be like, and then she detached herself from these thoughts solemnly.
“I guess some things are not meant to be.”
At that moment, Arthur emerged from the darkness; the once red sphere in his palms had melted into a hypnotic honey-gold colour. As it gained exposure to the moonlight, it gently waned into tiny particles amongst the air. Gazing upon the pair that remained sat by the tree trunk, Merlin was crouched close towards her, Arthur continued forwards. Averting his eyes from Morgana, the druid watched the blonde man walk towards them. When Arthur was not greeted with the expected annoyance from Merlin for yet again disobeying his orders, he hovered over the pair and awaited either of them to speak. Pulling himself away from the woman’s proximity, Merlin plastered a gentle smile onto his lips, not wanting to cause any worry to Arthur. Morgana followed swiftly and glanced up at the man.
“Everything okay?” Arthur asked, eyes latched onto Morgana’s.
Nodding, the woman got to her feet, clutching the herbs by her side. A relieved smile framed Arthur’s lips, eyes instantly drained of their concern. He knew Merlin would be able to console her- there appeared to be nothing he couldn’t do. But then again, he was the mighty Emrys, practically a demi-god. He shot a coy glance at Merlin who was gazing at Morgana with unreadable, glassy eyes. The exhaustion embedded in the sapphire irises however was very much noticeable. With knowledge of Merlin’s rather busy schedule tomorrow, Arthur swiftly pulled out his teleporting device. Noting the device in his hands, Morgana pulled Merlin into a hug once more. Shuffling uncomfortably, Arthur tried to pretend the pang in his gut was non-existent.
“I…I’ll…” the woman frowned, her face inched close to Merlin’s.
“We’ll meet again.” Merlin assured her kindly.
Surprised at their intimacy, Arthur glanced between them cautiously, yet again waving that ridiculous thing wreaking havoc in his body and emotions away. It didn’t listen to him; it only grew like a dangerous green monster when Merlin placed a soft kiss to her cheek. He was too obsessed with trying to rid himself of this thing to notice the druid was now standing in front of him. The playful voice broke him out of his mental battle.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could have a hug?” Merlin teased with a grin, causing Arthur to recoil from the outstretched arms and raise his eyebrows at the man. His apathetic response contradicted the blush that dusted his cheeks. Merlin feigned hurt, pouting mockingly, Arthur laughed good-heartedly. It was a laugh Morgana had not heard for years. Yet it came so naturally to him. To say she was surprised was an understatement.
“Always the idiot Merlin.”
“At least I’m not an arrogant, supercilious-”
Arthur’s eyes widened in mock awe at the word.
“-Aha! Careful Merlin we wouldn’t want your teeny-tiny brain to over exert itself-“
“-Oh hush you glorified prat.”
Morgana watched Arthur’s features soften almost fondly, as he punched Merlin’s arm and sent the druid sprawling backwards a little. The gesture merely widened Merlin’s toothy grin. As the silence hung between the pair, and Arthur knew he had an apology to make but was too damn proud to give Morgana
the satisfaction of hearing him do so, he changed the subject rapidly.
“Well I’ll see you,” he began lightly. “Bright and early tomorrow.” He said.
“I guess so.” Merlin replied with a casual shrug, mischief glinting behind those juvenile eyes for a second.
Neither of them moved for a second, and Arthur realised he should probably just teleport himself away before he humiliated himself any further in front of her. He strode quickly towards her. She glanced from Merlin who sat on the trunk, to the blonde man slowly. For the first time in a few days, she felt parts of herself returning to her. An uncontrollable trace of a faint smirk framed her lips; only Arthur noticed it, fully aware of her deviant ways.
“What?” he snapped peevishly whilst grabbing her hand.
Shaking her head resignedly, she successfully suppressed her sudden delight.
“Nothing.”
Arthur pressed the teleporting device and the pair of them vanished from the clearing in a matter of seconds. The grin on Merlin’s face withered into a troubled stern line. He sat there for a few minutes, the waves of his mind rolled over Morgana’s words and what she had seem in her nightmares, hauling them in and then thrusting them back out in a motion similar to the tides of the East. He could not deny that her visions had matched parts of his own, and her powers were raw, rare even. Part of him wondered how she would react to reading the Crystals. The truism of the matter slapped him over the face finally, scolding him for his lies and treachery. He brushed a hand over his sore cheek as his stood, making his way back towards Ealdor at a contemplative pace.
Morgana had magic.
But it was even deeper than that; she was blessed with a special gift.
Morgana was a seer.
Chapter 26
The brilliant sunlight beginning to burst over the horizon accentuated the handsome features of Arthur Pendragon’s face. The gentle golden light deceived Merlin’s eyes, almost acting as a divine glow around his skin. Picking up a fallen branch from the woodland floor, Arthur added it to the pile in his arms.