Chapter Text
Deadham Street was not as empty as Cleavers Lane. This was not uncommon for the outer city, so much so even the guards left well alone, if they found themselves walking down the wrong alley, they'd be beaten until dead.
It had happened three weeks earlier, a young nieve foot-soldier had taken the wrong turn down Stowe Lane and ended up found dead by the night watchmen. His family pushed for justice, but he wasn't a Knight and his killers weren't found. Nobody would give a name.
"Okay. . ." Will said, poking his head out from behind a pile of barrels. "All clear. . . Pretty much."
A homeless man layed drunk amist a pool of his own vomit by the brothels door that seemed to never stop swinging back and forth.
A stray black cat scurried over to Merlin from a doorway, weaving its body through his legs like a scarf. "Shoo!" He muttered, ushering it away with his foot.
"Hey, be nice." Isobel reproached, bending down to stroke the animals fur. It purred, nuzzling its whiskers into her hand.
"Come on. We don't have all night." Will chastised, taking off down the open street. The big leather bag draped across his back jostled and racked at his movements.
"Leave the cat." Merlin added, stifling a sneeze as he followed on from Will.
The first drop-off spot. Was to a man named Agilberht. He was a fisherman and worked at the docks by the beaches. They were to leave his weapons under the stone slabs by his garden wall.
The second was a tailor. The third was to a single mother of six down on Carnby Street, a little more south than the normal orders, and the final lot, which Merlin had been carrying was for a man down on Witchwacker way.
They stopped by the corner of a butchers shop. It's doors locked and it's window shutters pulled together tightly.
"What's the address?" Isobel asked Will again, looking uneasily around. Much like Deadham Street, Witchwacker Way was often avoided by night patrols.
Unlike Deadham Street, Witchwacker Way was silent- for the most part.
A few dog barks could be heard from somewhere in the city, a rat scurried past Merlins feet squeaking quietly. Two boys walked past unaware of their presence. They snickered at something funny, fumbling down the mud-crusted path clumsily.
"Across the way, there." Will whispered once the two delinquents had passed, pointing at a hovel that held a sign that read; 'Herbs and Remedies' carved into a broken plank of wood and nailed above the door.
Merlin leaned over Wills shoulder to take a closer look. A few candles burned inside, casting a warm orange glow through a grime covered window.
Two figures shifted on the other side. He strained to see, almost crushing Will in the process, but the window was too dirty, and the candlelight silhouetted the people inside anyway.
"Should we go in or. . ." A cloaked figure emerged from inside the shop, the door creaking on its old rusted hinges as they left.
Merlin felt Isobel move closer to the wall, her hood draped back over her eyes. He peaked over Wills shoulder again, and the person came into view.
Anna Pendragon took a careful glance around, pressing her eyes into the shadows. She could not see them from where they stood on the corner of the street by the butchers wall.
She tooked a tousle of blonde hair back behind her ear, and lifted her blue satin cloak over her head. She had a small sachel at her side, but nothing else in her hands. Merlin wondered what would bring a princess such as Anna to the very pits of poverty.
He looked to Isobel who's eyes refused to leave Anna.
They waited in their corner of darkness for a few more minutes, being extra careful not to be spotted by any other suspicious characters before making a beeline for the 'Herbs and Remedies' hovel.
Inside, the floors were a dirty stone. He could tell they hadn't been cleaned in years. The candles flickered in their places dotted about the room, wax melted onto the stone walls from a burnt out wick on another windowsill.
Dead plants left to dry, hung on strings from the rafters. Wilting flowers turning brown, such as foxgloves to prevent falling sickness, Lavender, and Valerian. Merlin had to duck every other step, almost walking into them.
A desk, much more resembling a bar counter, stood by the far wall. Behind it were shelves chock-full of various different coloured glass bottles, many were full of liquids, some plants, some dead insects.
Merlin only recognised a handful of the contents from Gaius's own store. Like Honey, catchweed, Hyssop and sage.
"Hello?" Asked Will into the silence.
The desk itself was cluttered with empty vials, and caked in dust. A dead spider lay shriveled on its back atop a pile of battered leather-bound books.
Will knocked his knuckles on the counter impatiently. He looked to Isobel, whose face was wrinkled in distain as she ran her hand over the dying flowers. One of them almost came back to life, seemingly on its own. But then Isobel thought better of it and took her hand away briskly.
"Hello!?" He shouted again.
A rustling came from behind a fur draped over a doorway as a woman appeared from the back room.
"Hold your horses, I'm only one person!" She called, fluffing her wild orange hair back from her even redder face.
She paused, smiling slyly at William once her eyes landed on him "well Hello there, young man. What can I do for you?"
Will smiled charmingly back at her, "We have a delivery for. . . Atwater?" He motioned to Merlin who placed the bag down onto the counter.
"Ah, my brother, he runs this shop, lazy bastards spending the night in the tavern. For now, you've got me. I'll take it for him. These bloody Saxons got him all worked up, you see? Can't get him to pull a night shift. -Anyway, was that all?" She blurted out, catching herself.
"Um, that girl who was here before us. . . What was she doing?" Asked Isobel, snaking her way next to Will.
"Sorry, I don't share clients information." Said the woman.
Isobel dug into her sachel and produced a small bag of silver coins. The shop keeper poured the contents out onto the worktop, counting each coin under her breath. She sighed, staring at Isobel expectantly.
Isobel groaned in frustration, rolling her eyes as she took an extra few coins from her cloak pocket and threw them down onto the pile.
The woman nodded, "You mean the blonde? Very specific with her order- she wanted something discreet."
". . . That's all? What did she order?"
The woman sighed. "I'm afraid I can't say. Bad for business, my clients pride us on our discrepancy." She said putting the money into a jar on the shelf behind her.
"That's not fair!" She protested, "It's important, we need to know."
"Not my problem." Said the woman, "now either buy something, or leave."
~<<♤>>~
The next morning Merlin was stuck with his usual chores. He begrudgingly woke Arthur two hours after dawn and set his armour out for his morning training.
"Arthur. . . I've been wondering. . . With your sister back- I was just thinking- why does she have to go back to Brittany every Winter? I mean. . . Why doesn't she just stay here with you?"
Arthur raised a sceptical eyebrow, "I don't think that's any of your business, Merlin."
"Right. . . Sorry."
Arthur sighed as Merlin buckled the breastplate onto him. "She goes back because Hoel is like a father to her. . . I guess she'd miss it too much if she never went back."
Merlin nodded, "Makes sense. . . I miss my village sometimes." He went to grab Arthur's sword from the table.
Arthur turned to him, and racked a hand through his blonde mop of hair. ". . . She was always ill as a child." He admitted solemnly. "Father thought it best she was sent somewhere better aired. A place where she could get better. . . Guess it works. That is why she goes to Brittany. And she only returns for Morgana, and myself. That much she has made clear enough."
Morgana:
She felt sick. This was a usual occurrence. She always woke with something wrong. Her nightmares never seemed to break, and she began to feel it in her bones. Sleep was an inky black lake she couldn't baptise herself in, no matter how hard she rocked the boat.
She tried remedies, sleeping draughts, herbal teas, changing her diet, cutting out milk, drinking more milk, a teaspoon of every type of honey every night; Acacia, Dandelion, Lavender, and Comb. She tried praying to any God that would listen. But nothing seemed to ease her terrors.
When she was little, a doctor that was treating her mother thought her nightmares were of Miasma, from her mothers illness. So in an attempt to 'heal her' the doctor ordered Morgana to walk around with rose and lavender petals in her pockets and burnt incense in her room as she slept which only gave her coughing fits. Of course, it all amounted to nothing- but a very angry Igraine.
She shook the last remaining memories of a hazy nightmare from her mind as she rose to breakfast that morning.
She wanted to eat alone in her room again but it was Anna's first full day back and as much as she hated herself for it, she had missed her. Even if the feeling wasn't reciprocated.
The walk to breakfast was a hard one. She had no energy in her for boring familial conversations that was about nothing and ended nowhere.
She looked out the windows as she passed down the long corridor to the stairs. Arthur was stood on the green practicing sword positioning and stances. She spyed Merlin by the edge of the grass, holding a flask of water. His hair flew in his eyes often and he gave up trying to brush it away.
In the great hall, everyone was already sat. Uther drank from a goblet, Anna cut into a loaf of bread, and reached over for the lard, Isobel was sat half asleep, her head in her hands, yawning.
Morgana sat next to Isobel. She figured this was more preferable than enduring Anna. She reached for the pot of porridge, and scouped a ladel-full into her bowl.
"Isobel, must you sleep at the table? What time did you go to bed?" Anna asked shaking her head in dismay.
Isobel perked up a little at Anna's question. "What time did you go to bed?" She fired back defensively.
Morgana frowned, reaching for the honey comb pot. "Alright, I was only asking. . ." Anna took a bite from her bread and glanced wearily at Morgana. Uther continued to drink, unfazed by their idol chitchat.
"Did you. . . Sleep well, Morgana?" She asked.
"Not particularly, Anna. No."
"Right. . ." Morgana could see her searching for something else to say, fumbling around for a scrap of conversation.
I'll give you something to talk to me about she thought to herself, remembering the non existent letters that Anna never sent her. Why? She thought, why didn't you send any?
"What were you doing all Winter?" Morgana asked.
"What do you mean? I've been in Brittany, Morgana."
"I'm searching for a reason as to why you haven't sent me so much as a letter all Winter. Why you" She accused, turning to Uther, he looked up from his parchments scattered next to his empty plate. "-refused to acknowledge anything Morgause had told us. How everyone is acting like nothing happened but me!" Silence fell like a blanket over the room.
Uther huffed a sigh, giving Morgana his undivided attention. "Morgause is a sorceress, it's obvious she used some sort of enchantment on us all." He argued.
"Stop lying!" She flared, leaning forwards in her chair. The air around her seemed to still, a high ringing sounded somewhere in her head as every word fell out her mouth in a tumble of letters.
"Admit it! You can't stand the fact that you messed up all those years ago and let her live! You're not sorry she told me I wasn't yours, you're sorry you got found out! Even Arthur hates you for it!"
Her breathing was ragged as Uther stood from his chair, staring down at her. "Young lady, I will hear no more of this! I raised you, you are mine. Morgause is a liar and a witch and if we ever find her again, I will have her burnt at the stake! Now, hold your tongue. Eat your breakfast, and go find your governess."
Her porridge spilt as she went to stand, "Damn you to Hell, Uther Pendragon!" She flung her chair back with a scratch against the floor and stormed out through the doors, leaving her porridge in a splattered goo across the table.
Outside the hall, she settled herself on the stairs, feeling the cold stone under her. She closed her eyes seemingly only for a minute and tried to level her breathing. Merlin had said that emotions are often higher strung when you struggle to control your magic.
But her magic was also tied to her emotions, so it was viscous loop she had to learn to master before it mastered her.
So she tried to think happy thoughts; the meadow behind Camelot -how it's Wildflowers bloomed on the first sign of spring, the painting of her mother hung in the gallery below the throne room. How she'd clean it when it got too dusty. Uther had tore down everything that reminded him of her, the moment she died.
Morgana ran her finger over the ring her mother had given her. She often did this when she was upset or nervous, it had once provided her with great comfort, now it only made her curious of it's origins.
"Morgana. . ." Came a voice from in front of her. Anna was stood, hands across her chest with worrisome countenance. "Are you alright?"
"You don't care, stop pretending. Concern doesn't suit you." She said.
Anna shifted uncomfortably, "I do care."
She scoffed, "Sure you do, Anna."
"I do!" She snapped, her brows drawing together in a tight line. She sighed, straightening up. "Look, I didn't write to you, because I thought I'd make you feel worse. We both know Uther's an imbecile. He can deny it all he wants but you and I know the truth. . . And neither Arthur, nor myself thought you'd want to hear anything we had to say. You made that quite clear yourself, Morgana."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You didn't exactly write either." Anna argued. "You've barely spoke to Arthur at all. . . You spend most of your time around that servant." She hissed.
"I don't see what Merlin has to do with any of this. I mean at least he's actually present."
Anna paused, pursing her lips. ". . . Brittany is as much my home as Camelot. You cannot possibly blame me for living there."
"Well I do." She nodded, standing.
"He sent me away when I was eight. Eight. You cannot surely be angry with me for that?" She beseeched, staring desperately at her older sisters face.
Morgana remembered that day well.
It had been almost a year since her mother passed and Anna had began to get increasingly sick. Gaius, the court physician, suggested medicine from other countries. Uther settled on Brittany, and sent word to King Hoel.
A month later Hoel arrived in Camelot with little Isobel at his side. That afternoon, they left with her little sister, and Morgana wouldn't see her again for another year.
"I'm not angry at you for leaving. I'm angry at you for not taking me with you." Morgana avowed, her vision becoming somewhat clouded by tears.