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Chapter Text

There was one secret that Morgana had kept from Merlin and the rest of the world, a secret that could shatter the foundations of destiny once and for all.

Merlin hid in the shadows of the trees. It had been some time since Camelot had heard from or of Morgana. Not one to be complacent that he had already rid the kingdom of her dark influence, Merlin had to know what she was up to. That was how he ended up hiding in the woods, stalking Morgana, and he chanced upon her brutally interrogating a man. 

“Are you really threatening me?” Morgana questioned the battered man in front of her, her voice stern.

“We don’t have to. Not if you want to make sure your little girl is safe from slaughter by the crown.”

Morgana’s demeanor changed ever so slightly. She caught herself and hid behind a mask of indifference, but it was pointless. The man already knew the truth.

“Ah yes, the powerful, ruthless high priestess has her own magical child hidden away.” 

Merlin’s hand flew to his mouth to suppress a gasp.

“Do you even know where she is right now? When was the last time you even saw her?” the man asked and Morgana’s eyes were wild. "Of course. You can’t expect a witch to take care of her own young.” 

The man is thrown back against an old rotting tree, splinters digging into his back. She had him practically cornered. This man–this devoted pawn to who knows what–had less self-preservation instincts than the dead tree. 

"How did you know about her? I need a name. Tell me." She grit her teeth.

The man fell forward onto his knees. "Never." He took out his dagger.

"Tell me or I'll make you wish you were dead." She looked even more intimidating in the moonlight, with her pale sunken cheeks, wild hair sticking out in all places, her dark robes billowing in the breeze.

“You may kill me, but the cause is beyond me, and it will live on.” 

Before Morgana could take it away the man plunged his blade into his own stomach. The messenger’s job was done.

Morgana growled, her eyes blazed a furious gold, making sure the man had a painful death. He was consumed by flames in an instant, his screams echoing into the unyielding silence of the forest, where no one would save him. Illuminated by the rising flames, Morgana's expression could only be described as a mother's unforgiving wrath.

Merlin watched the scene unfold and at this point the thought of saving the man did not even cross his mind. He was reduced to a heap of smoking ash, going back into the forest floor, his blackened dagger lying among them.

After a few furious huffs Morgana walked away and leaned against a nearby tree. Merlin watched as she took out a little stuffed doll.

“Irina,” she choked. With shaking hands, she clutched the doll close to her chest and broke down into a ball of heaving sobs. Before Merlin could approach her, dark smoke engulfed her and she was gone, leaving Merlin alone in the forest with the smoldering mound of ash.

That night, back in Camelot in his room, Merlin was restless. His recent revelation about Morgana weighed heavily on his mind. If what he suspected was true this could turn destiny on its head. 

He closed his eyes as he recalled his heated encounters with Morgana when she was still the king's ward. With her fear of her own nightmares and the threat of execution keeping her awake, Morgana had needed comfort and Merlin gave it to her in whatever way she needed it. 

At that time he would have given her anything. Anything but his most guarded secret. He could not give her that. But he would give her everything else. At first it was just hugs, and chaste kisses on the forehead. But she had asked him to stay a little bit longer in her chambers when he delivered her draught.

And then…he couldn't tell if it was her taking advantage of his willingness to serve her or him in taking advantage of her vulnerability. Yet all those times she looked up at him, touched him a certain way, he had been all too eager to give in. 

One day, when he delivered her medicine for her sickness she was evasive about, she told him they had to stop. She couldn't even look him in the eye when she said it. He agreed, trying to hide the fact that he was heartbroken, thinking she had regretted their times together. But it had all been too dangerous. He had tried to comfort her in her sickness but she was irritable and wanted him out of her chambers quickly so he left. After that, in silent agreement, they went about as if none of it ever happened between them. 

Being young and reckless he didn't even think of the possibility of the consequences at the time. But as he laid on his bed he did the math. Morgana had a child. Could it be? What would he even do if it was all true?

It may be a stupid idea, but he had to confront her about it even though seeing her again was always dreadful. If what he thought was true he was hurt she did not trust him enough to let him know about it, even though he knew exactly why.

There was also the man threatening Morgana, whose connections Merlin was still unsure of. How many other people knew about this secret before he did? Too many things to think about at once.

Another memory sprang to Merlin’s mind and had his heart hitting the floor. Soon after their dalliances was the event when he was forced to poison Morgana to save Camelot. She may have been with child already when he tricked her into drinking the hemlock. Merlin’s grip on his pillow tightened.  His stomach lurched. Knowing what he knew now, the pain of the memory was tenfold.

The next morning, Merlin stumbled out of his room to find Gaius already preparing medicines for the day.

“Merlin, what happened to you? You look like you’ve seen hell.”

Merlin looked at Gaius, eyes glazed over.

“You’re already here at the physician’s. What’s wrong, my boy?”

“Just a bit tired.” He forced a smile.

“I know you’re anxious,” he said reassuringly. “It has been quite some time since Morgana has made a move on Camelot again–” 

“It’s not– I’m fine,” Merlin said, not wanting to talk about her. Any other time he would have loved to talk to him about what was bothering him, but this subject he wanted to avoid talking to him about altogether. The scolding and lectures he would have to endure if his guardian ever found out. He shuddered.

Gaius gave him his signature brow raise. “Have you been to the tavern?”

“No!” Just somewhere worse. He rubbed his forehead. “I’m just overworked. As usual.” He added the last part quietly.

“Well if you’re not sick then go deliver these bottles.”

Merlin sighed and took the medicines, dragging his feet out of the physician’s chambers. He was clumsier than usual in doing his tasks that day, that is when he wasn’t in the middle of his thousand-yard stare. Burdened by all these chores along with his grand responsibilities he could barely keep up with, how could he even go on at all after knowing something so earth-shattering? He was itching to confront Morgana about it finally.

Morgana rummaged through her dark hovel like a madwoman. She grabbed the rag doll, food and some vials, stuffing them into her satchel. She has made too many enemies to keep up with. She had to rush to see her child and make sure she was safe, possibly needing to take her somewhere else. 

There was a knock on her door. Great. Another idiot who found her hiding place. She would have to leave this place possibly for good. 

She opened her door, contempt on her face upon seeing who it was. Oh, it's that idiot. Perfect timing.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find– oh, of course you would. It’s you,” she said, almost laughing to herself. “What? Are you expecting me to give you a tour? And you can gloat over my living situation?” 

“There’s something we need to talk about.” Merlin held the door open and let himself in. 

She was stunned at the servant’s audacity to even step foot in her home. 

“Let’s not waste time.” His eyes fell on the rag doll peeking out of her bag. He looked back up at her. “I know about your child."

Morgana’s blood ran cold. She opened her mouth, ready to bombard him with denials he's sure she's had prepared for this very moment, but Merlin merely raised his hand.

"Tell me, Morgana, how long have you been keeping this secret?”–he said, stepping further into the hovel–“from me? From everyone?" 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorted, turning away from him as if he wasn't even a threat.

“I know you think I’m some type of idiot–”

“You’re more than one type of idiot–”

“But I know how to connect some dots. Don't try to deny it," he said firmly. “The way you burned that man to death for even speaking about it.”

How did he–? Of course. She whirled around to face him. “And I could do the same to you just as easily!” she snapped. It was out before she could close her big fat mouth. She inwardly scolded herself for her inadvertent admission.

“Then why don’t you?” He stepped forward, pinning her with his intense gaze. 

Morgana looked up at him defiantly, determined to stand her ground even though her heart was beginning to pound violently. "It would be a waste of my time to use all that energy on a useless servant.” She tried to channel the same tone of contempt she had for him earlier.

Merlin almost laughed. “Oh, come on, Morgana. You know the real reason why.” He was close, towering over her now, invading her personal space. “Irina,” he whispered. “That is her name. Isn't it?”

All the blood drained from Morgana's face. She shot him a venomous glare. “You pathetic, insolent, meddling, little rat! You barge into my dwelling and throw ridiculous accusations at me." Hearing him say her daughter’s name, it sounded like a threat. It really struck a nerve in her. "Even if what you say is true, it has nothing to do with you!" 

Merlin kept a stoic expression and leaned toward her. "Oh, but it does. It has everything to do with me.” 

"And why is that?" her voice was losing its edge.

He looked down at her with knowing eyes. “You know exactly why,” he said.

He wasn't entirely sure of what he suspected. But the shocked look on her face said it all. She shrank under the servant’s accusing gaze, utterly speechless. 

At once, anger flared up inside him and he was no longer able to maintain a neutral expression. His worst fears were confirmed. All this time. And he never knew. Under his skin his magic surged through his veins, the force of its pulse enough to set the entire forest ablaze. He had to fight with all he had to stamp it down, worried the sorceress in front of him might sense it.

“You have kept her from me long enough,” he said.

Morgana’s ears were ringing and she wondered if Merlin could hear it too. She stepped back, gripping the rail of her dining chair for dear life, feeling the ground tremble beneath her. There was no denying it anymore. 

Merlin watched as her lip quivered, her eyes shifting and flickering through a dozen different emotions. His anger faltered, for in Morgana's eyes, he saw genuine fear, the fear of a mother for her child. His heart sank as he deduced why. Was this the reason why she had been so relentless in her fight against Camelot, because she had a child who possibly had magic? It was so rare to see her be so scared. A part of him longed to reach out to her, to comfort her but he kept his hands at his sides.  

"You must tell me where she is," he said, voice soft and laced with concern.

She shook her head, eyes fluttering. “I can’t believe I even let you—” She groaned and put her head in her hands. All those memories of tender moments they shared were forever tainted. She was breathing heavily now, sitting down on the chair so she didn’t collapse in front of him. She should have known it was only a matter of time before he found out. Of course. This was Merlin. Gods, she wanted the earth to eat her whole. 

“Please…” He was insulted that he had to beg to see his child, and felt undignified that he needed to say what he said next, “I promise no harm will come to her. I wouldn't hurt my own child--"

"But you would hurt her mother!" she hissed.

Merlin flinched at the memory. He held himself back from letting out a stream of arguments as to why he did what he did. It would do no good to have that debate with her now. 

She took deep breaths, trying her best to gather her composure. “A traitor’s word is worth nothing.” She finally sat up straight despite the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, "You can't see her. I won't let you,” she said, with unwavering resolve. “Now leave."

“Morgana…” He opened his mouth to plead. To tell her it would be better if both of them worked to keep the child safe but she stood up before he could even get closer.

“Get out!” Morgana’s bloodshot eyes turned gold and he was yanked by invisible ropes out of her hovel and flung far back into the forest. 

The door slammed shut and the room was silent again. Morgana's knees were still shaking as she slumped back into her chair, finally letting her stubborn tears spill.

She was alone again with nothing but the gravity of her own secret crashing down on her.

In Arthur's chambers, Merlin’s head was whirring from how he hit his head last night. He grit his teeth, whether it was at the pain or at the confirmation he had a child all along, he wasn't sure. He mindlessly polished the metal armor and was making little progress with it.

"Mer-lin!" Arthur snapped.

Merlin looked up, dazed.

"What is wrong with you today? I know you're a bit of a moron but your head has been somewhere else all day and my armor still has streaks on it."

"I had to stay up all night again." Merlin murmured. He recalled what made him so tired. The night before, after black smoke engulfed him he was suddenly far away from where he just was. Morgana must have been real high on emotions to be able to muster all that magical energy to do that. He wandered aimlessly in the woods at night, looking for the trail leading to her hovel, finding she wasn't there anymore, and making his way back home.

"Where do you even go at night? Everyone you know is in this castle. Were you going to the tavern again?"

"Why does everyone always ask that?"

"Uh, maybe because you are known to go there all the time. Well, were you at the tavern?" Arthur crossed his arms.

"No!" Just somewhere much worse.

"Well then what were you doing? Certainly not seeing a girl." He snorted.

Merlin continued polishing the armor. 

"Oh, so you were seeing a girl?!" Arthur exclaimed. "Can't hide anything from me, Merlin."

Merlin dropped the polishing rags and sighed. "Even if I was, that's none of your business." 

"Pfft alright then," Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Poor woman."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Or his mind would never rest.

At the back of the druid camp, outside one of the tents, Morgana was sitting on a log, braiding the dark hair of the little girl sitting in her lap. The child was playing with her little doll that looked just like herself. 

Hidden behind the trees, among the thick bushes in the forest, a pair of blue eyes watched from afar as Morgana hummed a tune to the child, pure adoration in her eyes as she looked down at her daughter’s plump smiley face. 

An older brown-haired woman in druid’s robes approached them to give them some food. “Well, you’re a bit more affectionate with her today. Not to mention your visit today was a surprise. She’ll be cranky again when you leave.”

Morgana stroked her daughter’s face, trying to hide her anxiety. “Did this camp have other visitors while I was away?”

“Just a few travelers seeking shelter.”

“Who were they? Do you remember what they looked like?”

“Well there was a tall one and one with dark hair. That's all I can remember. I was too busy tending to little princess here,” the older woman squeezed the toddler’s cheek. “Why?” 

“I fear I might have to take her away from here, or at least this camp has to move somewhere more hidden.” Morgana said to the woman. 

Morgana didn’t want to question the trustworthiness of the druids when they had welcomed her baby with open arms despite their wariness of her. She looked into her daughter’s light blue eyes. She remembered Merlin. Her hands trembled as she fixed her daughter’s hair. The child looked up at her, picking up on her mother’s distress and reached up to her with her little hands. Morgana lifts her up into an embrace, profound relief filling her as the girl’s tiny arms hugged her back. 

“Gah!” The girl whimpered, staring at the forest

"What is it sweetheart?" Morgana put her down on her lap.

"Who that?" the child asked and pointed deep into the trees. 

Morgana looked behind her to where she was pointing but saw nothing. "There's no one there. You know it's dangerous to look into the woods." 

Her daughter persistently pointed there, looking to her mom and back to the trees. Morgana's back straightened, shivers paralyzing her as she slowly turned to where she was pointing. She trusted her child's instincts. She felt like prey with her back turned towards the predator. 

She got up, quickly pulled the child into her arms and gave her to her carer. The girl cried, not wanting to be separated from her mum again. "Shhh. Go back inside with Agnes. I'll be back with you. I just need to take care of something first." She said, urging them to go back inside the safety of the tent. 

Morgana turned towards the forest, trembling with rage, fists clenching at her sides. More people had found them, she thought. She was going to have to kill some reckless idiot again.

A gust of wind, a ruffle of leaves, and the intruder was slammed against a tree, his collars tight in her grip. Fallen leaves swirled in the air from her swift movements. 

"You."

Chapter Text

Merlin had dreamed of becoming a father eventually. He just wished that it didn’t have to be with the woman he had grown to hate. But now, from behind the trees he watched Morgana with the child as she softly hummed to her. His heart clenched. He could never have imagined her like this. But he remembered how she was when Mordred was a boy. She had an almost maternal protectiveness over him.

He was seeing his daughter in the flesh for the first time although from afar. He didn’t know what to expect when it got to this moment, what he would feel. She was real. She looked healthy and happy. He wished to get closer, to really see her but it would be a sure way to be blasted by a very angry sorceress. 

The little girl whipped her head in his direction and Merlin drew back behind a tree trunk. He hoped nobody else could hear his heart pounding in his ears but he guessed it might be too late. His magic was on high alert when there was a gust of wind and his back slammed against rough tree bark.

“You.”

Earlier

As Merlin went about his daily tasks he could not shake a new kind of fear. It festered in him since the confirmation of his paternity. 

He stared at the bowl of soup in front of him. What was his daughter eating right now? Does she eat enough? Wondering about her safety was consuming him. He couldn’t stop thinking about where she was, how she was. What would he feel, what would he do when or if he saw her? Would she even know who he was? And yet, he had to act like an ordinary servant in Camelot doing menial tasks, like he didn't have not one but several secrets that could get him killed, like there wasn’t a brand new person whose well-being he had to look out for. His mind and body were torn in two. 

It would be fruitless to find out where his daughter was by going to Morgana’s hovel again. Where was a safe place that Morgana could take the baby, a place that was peaceful, with people who did not discriminate and were willing to provide care and shelter? 

The druids. He yearned to fly right to where his daughter was. Then he remembered, of course, he definitely could. There was only one that he could turn to. Dread overtook him. He would have to consult with the dragon to know the location of the druids. Merlin braced himself for the wrath of the colossal creature when he summoned him in a forest clearing.

“She has a what?!” the dragon had growled. 

Merlin had not given him the other (more important) details. When the dragon demanded why Merlin needed the information so suddenly, he had no choice but to tell him about Morgana and her baby. It would be better than having the beast find it out for himself. But he would only reveal a crumb of it and hope for the best.

“And what do you plan to do when you get there?”

“I will figure it out.” He really didn’t know what he would do. He just needed to see—see that the child was okay and what the situation was. See if it was real and that this wasn’t some dream or hallucination from his paranoid mind.

The beast had made a low angry rumbling noise that reverberated through Merlin’s body. “You must take this child. Her mother’s influence on her could spell disaster on the future of Camelot.”

“Isn’t that considered kidnapping?”

“It is a rescue.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You always think everything is solved easily by what are technically heinous crimes. And it always ends up making everything more complicated.” He remembered the dragon suggesting literal murder multiple times. For a supposed wise dragon he had downright ridiculous demands. At least his advice wasn't to kill the child. He shuddered at the thought.

“Time and time again, you have tried to defy my sound advice to the detriment of your destiny. That is what makes everything more complicated,” the dragon had growled. “The witch can never be allowed to poison Albion with her legacy. The mess she would leave if she left her mark in this world through her offspring.” 

Breathing heavily, anger bubbled up inside Merlin. He himself couldn’t believe he had the urge to defend Morgana. The creature had just unknowingly insulted his child. “Just take me where they are near. I’ll walk from there,” he had said sternly. 

The dragon stomped in protest. “These are sensitive matters. The balance of magic depends on it.”

“Take me there now,” Merlin had commanded. He had no more time for his riddles.

The dragon had bowed his head, not able to refuse an order from his dragonlord. Merlin climbed onto his back and leaves swirled around as Kilgharrah flapped his colossal wings and took off.

Present 

“You.”

Merlin blinked, still recovering from the shock. With his vision foggy he could only picture Morgana with her hair rising as if struck by lightning, pulsing with her rage.

"You bastard," Morgana hissed and pushed his chest.

“Good morning, Morgana,” he let out a laugh and cursed himself inwardly. He had not planned to get caught by her today. As clumsy as everyone else thought he was, he had always been stealthy enough to evade detection even from the most observant guards, and yet, a baby caught him. 

“How did you even find us? Did you really think I would let you anywhere near her?”

“No,” he groaned. “Come on now. You don’t wanna make a scene right outside a peaceful druid settlement,” he said.

“You underestimate my anger,” specks of gold in her irises glinted dangerously. “Camelot’s patrol could have been trailing your reckless ass. How do you know you haven’t been followed?” 

“I told them that I was visiting my mother,” he said, holding his hands up. 

Maybe he counted on her not killing the father of her child the first time he confronted her in the hovel. But he’d be stupid to test that again today. Morgana potentially hurting him was definitely not off the table.

To his relief they heard footsteps which grew nearer. Merlin just hoped to the gods that Morgana had limits for propriety’s sake. He pushed her off and Morgana let him go with a shove.

A woman, an elder druid appeared. “Is there something wrong here?”

“Nothing, Alanis,” Morgana said, heaving but smiling innocently. “Just someone—an old friend coming to visit,” she said with practiced etiquette and gave Merlin a look.

Merlin fixed his disheveled jacket and introduced himself.

The woman had a spark of recognition in her eyes and gave him a nod.

Morgana made her way to a nearby creek. The sound of the water flowing, birds chirping and soft sunlight creeping through the forest canopy calmed Morgana down from being riled up by Merlin’s presence. He had been led by the elder druids inside one of the tents to converse and offer shelter. They probably thought he was some homeless feral man. 

She had accepted there wasn’t much she could do to drive away the worm of a servant. While he was out of sight Morgana made sure to set up wards in her daughter’s tent to keep out any outsiders. She sat down on a fallen log, took her knife, the mushrooms and herbs she foraged and began chopping them.

To her chagrin, Merlin appeared beside her and leaned on a tree, arms crossed, watching her as she worked. 

Her jaw clenched. “You really should be going back to Camelot to do whatever it is you do when you’re not trying to annoy or kill me.” 

“I am here to meet my child. And I'm not leaving until I do.”

Morgana made a disgruntled noise and dropped her knife. She shivered at him referring to Irina as his child, anxious someone might hear. “Haven’t I made myself clear—“

”You can't just deny me the right to meet my daughter."

"You lost that right the moment you poisoned me," she hissed. 

“You are never going to let that go are you?”

“No, Merlin. I am never going to let the attempt on my life go.” Her knife made a sharp echoing noise against stone as she bore it down. The nerve of this man. “Also, by extension, you poisoned her too.”

“I didn’t know! I didn't know…” his voice was small. Guilt boiled in his gut. To think that he almost killed both of them. It was what consumed him for days and it will continue to for the days yet to come. “Please, give me the opportunity to help protect her.”

“Oh be honest Merlin. What help could someone like you possibly be? You don’t even understand what it’s like. And you never will.”

“Morgana—”

“I am the only one who understands my daughter.” She resumed chopping herbs.

Merlin’s secret threatened to burst from his lips. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, to tell her that he understood, her and Irina both, more than anyone. But agonizingly he swallowed his secrets back down his throat. That layer of betrayal would only give her more reason to keep Irina from him. “Then give me the chance to understand her. I think it’s best that we put aside our differences for now. For Irina. Just for a little while.”

“What you think doesn’t matter. You have proven yourself to be unfit to have any connection with her.”

He almost laughed. “Unfit? I am not the one going on rampages killing innocent people who disagree with me.” He just couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t expect you to comprehend the logic of my decisions.” She stood up. “You think I’m incapable of keeping her safe?”

“Oh, I think you’re spectacular at it, seeing how a few unwanted people have already found out that she exists and where she is.”

She tightened her grip on her knife. This man knew how to push her buttons. In the past she would have found his stubbornness charming but now she was tempted to have her knife fly towards him, to embed itself to the hilt on the wood inches from his precious face. That or pull him to the shallow creek and use the force of her magic to drown him. But that would not help her case after his accusation. People would hear the commotion. Worse. Irina could possibly see them. “She has plenty of people looking out for her here.” 

“That’s it isn’t it. You can’t even stay at her side to do that.” He advanced towards her. One more stride and they would be face to face. “Why? Because you yourself know she is much safer being around strangers than being with you.”

That stung her more than his poison ever could. But it was the truth. Yet he didn’t know the entire truth. She held him in a steady gaze. "When I had her I was alone for most of it.” 

Perhaps she should enjoy the look of guilt on his face, a small victory after everything he’d done. But she found that she couldn’t. “At first I didn't even plan on keeping her. But Morgause convinced me otherwise.” 

Merlin’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know what disturbed him more, the fact that Morgana had thought about terminating her pregnancy, or what Morgause’s intentions were in wanting her sister to keep the child. 

“It was difficult when most of the high priestesses' scripture about the female body and its conditions had been destroyed during the purge. But Morgause and I kept looking for safe methods. And then…you poisoned me…” she averted her eyes from him, hating herself for not being able to control her trembling voice. Why was she even revealing all this to him? “I was scared, not for myself, but for the baby. I don’t know if it was the effect of being with child, but for the first time, I felt an instinct to protect her. I was terrified that there would be an accidental abortion. But the baby helped in my healing. I felt it while she was in the womb, the pulse of magic.” Her hand subconsciously touched her abdomen. “Morgause said a magical baby would be a blessing. She guided me every step of the way.”

The possibility that their daughter Irina might have powerful magic was starting to weigh down heavily on Merlin. For her to possibly grow up the way he had, always in hiding, having to lie to everyone and be used to it. 

“It’s good, at least, that you had your sister,” he said, even though he never trusted Morgause, “but I wish you had gone to me.”

“I wish I had felt like I could.” She kept a straight face but there was a flicker of pain in her eyes. “But that doesn't matter now.” She looked at him with a tired expression. “After my sister died, I had no choice. The druids, I believed they could protect Irina and they took her in without hesitation. I didn't know where else to go. I had no one else to turn to," she choked. How did he always manage to draw out all these words from her? She had never opened up to anyone about any of this after Morgause’s death. She hated herself for the tears that stung her eyes.

“There would have been people willing to help you. Arthur, Gaius, Gwen—”

Hearing all those names brought her nothing but hurt and anger now. “Don’t you understand? I don’t trust any of them! Especially after you—” she groaned. Gaius would have dismissed the symptoms and given her some useless remedies. Arthur and Gwen would be barely any help under Uther’s iron fist. And Uther. The thought of him alone made her sick. “And Uther would have never accepted a bastard grandchild,” she said bitterly.

“I know…I know. I didn’t mean him too…”

A bastard child from two bastard children. Uther never acknowledged Morgana as his daughter until he was brought down to his knees. And he would have never acknowledged Irina as his own blood. He would do anything to hide his shame and obliterate Morgana’s. The man who she thought was her father, Gorlois, Uther had practically sent to his death. Who knows what he would have done to Morgana’s child.

"Does anyone else know?" he asked.

"Besides me and a few druids, no one." She wondered briefly if Agravaine had any suspicions. She could never trust him with that information.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Merlin searched her eyes.

Yes. She had hesitated telling him then because she had wanted to protect him from Uther’s wrath. She had been so scared that for a time, she even considered telling Merlin. Looking back now, it was a weakness on her part. How many nights did she spend then, tossing and turning in bed, anxiously hoping Merlin would walk in through her doors and just ask how she was, to give her an opportunity to spill it all to him, so she didn't have to be alone in carrying the burden, so she didn’t have to be the one to seek him out in her time of desperation? Gods, she had wanted to tell him. For him to be there. But he never did come to her. And then he gave her the hemlock. 

Merlin waited on bated breath for her answer.

“No.” Just another one of her lies. She enjoyed a dark moment of satisfaction in watching his face fall. She would let him believe that the reason why she kept it from him was because she didn't trust him, even before he poisoned her, and she would let her silence tell him that. He had to know what it was like to be kept in the dark too. 

Merlin didn’t know how to respond, only that he had to accept her answer. There was an uneasy silence between them.

“I understand. But I know, as do you, growing up without a father is one of the most painful things. It follows you for the rest of your life," he said.

Morgana regarded him, her expression unreadable.

“By the time I knew where to find mine it was too late. I wish I had more time with him. He’s gone now. He’s dead.”

Merlin had a pained look on his face, blue eyes glimmering like broken glass. It made Morgana’s chest tighten and she had to avert her gaze. It was as if those shards of glass shot into her own eyes, embedding memories into her mind. She had seen those eyes on him before when he would visit her room late in the evening looking for nothing but companionship. Why did the teary eyes of this grown man still have a hold on her even now? Even after he had caused her so much turmoil? When he would come to her chambers back then he had never revealed anything about what caused his torment. She had never asked for the details, only pulling him into her embrace and he had buried his face into her hair and sobbed and she had held him so tight as if she could wring all the pain out of his body. More gut-wrenching memories invaded her mind. When Gorlois died her world had been turned upside down. Another strange and dark bond she had with the man in front of her. She looked at Merlin again and saw the naked desperation on his face. She sighed. “You may meet her.”

“Really?”

“If that is what will get you off my back.” 

His face lit up in relief for a moment and he looked almost ready to hug her.

She held up one hand. “But she cannot know what you really are to her.”

Like he had been struck by a spear. He shook his head slightly. 

“Decide before I change my mind.”

How could he even convince her otherwise? It was the best he could have for now. Maybe in a long time. Who knows when he will get this opportunity again? It was either this or never meet Irina at all. “She won’t know.” 

She nodded. “If you do anything I deem untoward gods help me I will gut you and turn you inside out. I don’t care if the whole camp sees. You will see Irina. Briefly. And then you will leave us alone. Getting to see her is already much more than you deserve.” 

His eyes fell but he nodded. He felt like he had already been gutted. Perhaps to make room in his body for another secret to bear. He thought it was unfair especially after he had just opened up about not knowing his own father. After what he had done, the things she didn’t even know he did, he was truly at her mercy whether he accepted it or not.

They made their way quietly back to the camp with Morgana leading the way.

“She cannot know. She cannot know.” She whispered and Merlin couldn’t tell if it was to him or to herself.

Things always came with a price. That was his life. But he never got used to it. A life denied. A life unknown. A future he would never see. Funny how his daughter would have the same fate as him, of never knowing who her father is. 

Chapter Text

"I could rationalize this decision away. It was easy, too easy. She was a lost soul who sought help and I gave it, thus was my vocation. I could repeat that sentence like a litany, like a prayer, a meditation of pious deceit, but it still would not change the truth. I was giving in to temptation. Every decision I made that kept me close to her, that offered the opportunity to be close enough to touch her hand or smell her hair, was a sin. I wanted it all the same."

— Isabel Cañas, The Hacienda

4 years ago

Out of everyone who she could have gone to for help, Morgana chose Merlin. Why?

The Lady Morgana. What did Merlin know about her? Other than that she was one of few nobles who treated him, a servant, with kindness and respect. That she selflessly traveled to Ealdor to help him fight for his village. That she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Now she trusted him with a secret that could end her. Her manifesting magic.

Him, a peasant. Most other people above his station would have ignored his existence except when it served them. But he felt seen by Morgana. And wasn’t that what he always wanted?

What if magic isn’t something you choose? What if it chooses you?

She had accepted him even though she didn’t know it yet. He’ll never forget those words and the admiration he felt when he heard them. It made him think of the possibilities between them, possibilities that were forbidden in more ways than one.

In the throne room he tried to steal a glance but once his eyes reached her silk-clad figure his gaze was locked. The way her well-crafted mask slipped for a second and her white-knuckled grip on her armrest was all it took for Merlin to know what she was feeling inside, the sharp fear that curled tight around her neck in broad daylight. Because he felt the exact same.

To Morgana, Merlin made living within Camelot’s walls a bit more bearable. It was more than that though. The secret that bonded them so intimately even though they were across the room from each other, it was their ghost—something special they shared that nobody else could see. It had thrilled her and warmed the part of her heart no one else could reach. How they sought each other's eyes when Uther ordered more raids for magic users or when the witch hunter came to town.

There have been times especially during the purge, when people—ordinary people, would hand over their neighbors, friends, and family right into the claws of the crown for slaughter.

Morgana’s eyes wandered to Merlin’s and from his intense gaze she realized he had been observing her long before she even looked back at him.

Just being in the throne room made Morgana feel like her every move, every twitch of her brow, every quiver of her lip could implicate her. And yet, when she met the azure eyes of a man barely more than a stranger to her, she felt—no—knew that he understood her even without words. His knowing gaze on her in a crowded room could hold a promise foreign to any knight. She knew deep in her bones she could trust Merlin.

Morgana had a nightmare and Merlin was at her door in an instant, like he had heard it—because he had—up like a tidal wave when her strangled cry rang in his head.

He had briefly debated with himself about going to her at all at such an ungodly hour. But now he stood at her door. The night was still but just beyond the wooden barrier he could feel the hiss of magic like lightning that had just struck.

What was he going to say? That he heard her scream all the way from his room? He remembered how her anguished cries had shook him awake. He needed to see if she was okay.

He knocked lightly at her door. It opened to reveal a shaken Morgana.

“Merlin?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Milady,” he said softly, “I was passing by. I thought I heard you screaming.”

She didn’t question his explanation. She was too tired as she let him in and leaned on her door.

He turned to her and the sight pulled him toward her by instinct. Her cheeks glistened with recent tears and she tried to hide them with her hair. Something twisted in Merlin’s chest.

“I wanted to see if you were alright,” he said.

“A nightmare.” She shook her head dismissively. “Just one of those nights again,” she said, as if embarrassed.

“The draught. Did you take it?”

“I always do. It didn’t work tonight. You know why it doesn’t,” she murmured. She didn’t want to say the forbidden word. Magic. “But I’m alright now,” she said in a hollow tone.

He stood there in the middle of her chambers, unconvinced. Did she want him to leave now? He should. “Are you sure you will be fine?”

It took her a few seconds to answer, merely looking at him with wide eyes and chewing on her lip. She finally nodded with a thin smile, “I think so.”

What was left for him to do now? He nodded and turned on his heel to leave. Her fearful voice stopped him.

“I thought I would get used to them, you know? But I don’t think I ever will,” she sighed. “The deaths, the flames. It’s like I feel everything. . .” she trailed off and looked down at her feet. She was a barrier between him and the door.

Merlin wondered what she dreamt of. Her loved ones dying? Herself? He wondered if she ever dreamt of him.

Morgana looked up at him, “Oh gods. I’ve kept you from your sleep. Thank you for checking on me.”

Every second he was in this room alone with her led him closer to the chopping block. He listed in his head all the reasons he had to leave.

"I should go now. Will you be alright?" Merlin asked.

"I-" she merely but her lip, not knowing what to say.

In the moonlight Morgana looked like a ghost. Not even the shadows could hide the hollow look on her face. She was still lost in her nightmare. Merlin’s hands flexed.

Staying with her here would be ridiculous but neither of them would sleep soundly if he left now. And, gods, she was looking at him like she was waiting for him to say something, do something. Her soul was crying out to him.

No. He wasn’t going to leave her alone. He couldn’t. Not when he saw in her eyes the very fear that had plagued him all his life. To see another person endure it alone—he couldn’t bear it. He owed it to her.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, if you don’t mind,” he whispered, like someone would hear the absurdity of it. “I’m guessing you haven’t had a good night’s rest in a while.”

She opened her mouth for a half-hearted protest. He showed his resolve when he slowly pulled out the chair by her vanity and sat down.

“I’ll leave once you fall asleep.”

She stared at him with bewilderment.

She relented and nodded. What relief overtook her features. Merlin knew he made the right decision. Her spectral form wandered across the room to her bed.

Merlin faced her mirror and looked at Morgana’s reflection in soft candlelight, transfixed. The lingering heady scent of her perfumes made him drowsy but he did not dare wink.

Morgana sat on her bed and gave him one last glance before laying her head on her pillows.

The impropriety of the situation dawned on Merlin. The way he watched her intently as she laid down and continued to keep a vigilant eye for god knows how long after. He couldn't tell which was more scandalous: when he chanced upon her undressing behind her changing screen or this. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He didn’t know how long he waited before she finally closed her eyes and he took a deep breath.

“Good night, Milady,” he whispered.

First light blanketed his skin when someone gently shook him awake.

He looked up from the vanity to see Morgana’s beautiful face and he wondered if he was dreaming. He remembered where he was.

“Milady,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. Better than I had in a long time.” Her warm hand lingered on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you leave when I fell asleep?”

“I,” He shook his head. “I couldn’t,” he said, like the answer should have been obvious.

Merlin got up slowly from the vanity stool and Morgana’s hand slid down his arm before falling at her side. Her smile was serene. It was difficult to break away from her emerald gaze.

There was pounding at the door. Uther’s voice called out.

They froze and looked at the door.

“Of all days,” Morgana muttered.

Panicked, Merlin looked around for a hiding place but Morgana patted his arm reassuringly. She took something from her vanity.

There was ice in Merlin’s veins when the door swung open.

“Morgana—” The dreaded king cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at the serving boy. “What is he doing here this early?”

Merlin whipped his head toward the king. “I. . .I—” his lying tongue was suddenly inept.

Out of the king's sight, Morgana shoved a vial into Merlin’s trembling hands. The brush of her fingers against his made him jump.

“He’s here to deliver my sleeping draught.” She smiled at her guardian sweetly. “Thank you, Merlin.” She turned to him and took back the vial.

There was gratitude for more than the draught in her voice. Merlin nodded shyly at her. He observed her for perhaps a beat longer than appropriate in the king’s presence before turning abruptly to leave.

Daggers of Uther’s stare followed Merlin as he walked past. With his oppressive gaze would he be able to see all the reasons why he ought to put the servant to death? His magic, his little crimes, and now his growing fixation with the Lady Morgana. People like Uther, their eyes always skimmed over everyone they deemed beneath them. Merlin would be safe as long as he kept his head down and calculated his every step. Slow down or you’ll look more guilty.

Merlin slammed the door to his room when he got there. What was he doing?

He had not left Morgana’s chambers when she fell asleep. He should have. He almost got caught—by the king no less. But his fear of getting caught being alone with Morgana was overpowered by the need to see that she slept peacefully. Merlin felt seething anger at Uther like he had never felt before.

There was a piercing ache in his chest when he remembered the soul-crushing fear in Morgana’s eyes he knew all too well. How he had learned to breathe again when she had finally slept.

Behind his shut eyelids he could still see her dark eyelashes fluttering closed as she drifted into dreamless slumber, raven hair flowing across the planes of cool white sheets, the rise and fall of her cream nightgown draped delicately over her body. . .he wished he could carve the image into his mind forever.

He was still shaking when he sat on his bed and buried his face in his hands. Dangerous thoughts implanted into his head. He’d be lying if he told himself he had never felt them before that night. Still, how could he even let himself feel things like this?

He couldn’t afford to ruminate on those thoughts, had to snuff out the flames before they became something beyond his control, even with all his godlike power.

He should have left. Nothing good could ever come from coveting the king's ward.

At her vanity, Morgana was sitting on the chair where Merlin had sat the other night. Darkness weighed heavy on her image as she stared at the candle flame’s reflection.

What was she even doing? Waiting for Merlin to be back? What selfish thoughts she had. He had other things he had to be up early for. Still. Now that she knew what it was like to have him there, how his presence made her feel safe, how she had savored his watchful eye on her warmed skin, how could she ever rest otherwise?

She pressed her finger on the growing pool of warm wax. Her bedsheets lay undisturbed.

She knew what she would see the moment she closed her eyes. The smell of smoke and burning skin. Deafening screams and bones shattering. Torn bodies on black sand and gold glaring eyes.

She wanted to see Merlin’s face again when she woke up to know she was back on the ground. Then perhaps she wouldn’t mind the carnage-filled nightmares.

Merlin was back in Morgana’s chambers, like Uther almost catching him had no effect on him.

Morgana joked about him almost getting caught. She found it funny? The king almost had his head!

“It’s not funny, milady. What would the people—the king think if—” he gestured between them like it was obvious what it would imply. Perhaps she could get away with a lot of things with Uther, but Merlin definitely would not.

“Oh Merlin,” she said playfully, “I would never let him hurt you,” she said in a more serious tone.

He shivered at the way she said—purred his name. Her scent was intoxicating. She was too close.

She enjoyed playing with him. He was sure of it.

Yet he stayed to watch her a few nights more.

“Do you even get any sleep?” Morgana had asked. “I don’t want to endanger you any more. You should probably stop doing this.”

“No.” Merlin said.

Why won’t he just say what he meant? That he wanted to do this? That it would kill him if he didn't? That he wanted her? That his want grew astronomically stronger every minute he was with her?

“I’ll leave when you fall asleep this time.”

He didn’t.

When Morgana’s chest rose and fell at a steady rhythm he breathed easy. He waited a bit longer, fighting his drooping eyelids while sheets of heavy rain battered against the castle walls.

He was about to leave when Morgana gasped awake from a nightmare. Merlin was at her side in an instant and threw his arms around her.

Lightning from the window split the air. Morgana buried her face into his chest. Her sobs echoed in his ribcage and hot tears seeped through his shirt. It occurred to him it was the first time he touched her in all those nights he spent in her chambers.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.” Merlin hugged her tighter and pressed his cheek into her hair, remembering why he had to stay. It felt too natural for him to press a kiss to the top of her head. He would think about that later.

Morgana pushed the bedcovers off herself and found Merlin had once again fallen asleep, his head cradled in his arms on the table. Something bright and warm curled around her chest whenever she saw him like this. She approached him carefully.

She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want him there. As if she wouldn’t make every other place in the world cold and inhospitable to him if it meant he would stay with her always. He knew what she was, what festered inside her, and he never looked at her with disgust or fear but with attentiveness and care.

How devoted he had been. Men of nobility never risked their heads for her, stayed up all night at a respectable distance just to see her get a good night's sleep. But Merlin did.

Why was he doing all this for her? He had a million other things to do. But she’d give him a little more time to sleep. He deserved some rest (while she selfishly stared at him some more).

Their little arrangement meant that she noticed things about him she had always overlooked. How tall he was when he drew himself to full height, those cheekbones, how he smelled of the forest after picking herbs, and his endearing blue eyes that seemed to see more than he revealed. How could it be fair that a simple manservant could be so beautiful?

Morning light warmed her hand as it hovered over Merlin’s messy hair. She wanted to run her hands through the raven locks that shined blue in the sun. Merlin always kept his distance. Too far within her large room. It was killing her. Especially when she felt the force unseen that kept them connected was rising, heating, and becoming more potent as they both slowly drowned in it. He must feel it too.

Merlin’s eyes fluttered open and Morgana withdrew her hand. Did her shameless ogling alert him awake? Her cheeks felt hot. One day she’ll grow out of these juvenile feelings but right now she could not suppress the fluttering in her stomach when he smiled at her.

“Guess I forgot to leave again,” he said.

She had the impression he never really wanted to leave.

In the courtyard as they prepared for a hunting trip, Merlin was unaware he was staring at Morgana on the balcony who was looking a bit out of sorts.

“She will be fine,” Arthur said.

Merlin froze. Arthur had said it to him in a sympathetic tone. And he said it to Merlin as if he would have a stake in the lady's wellbeing.

Merlin squinted to feign confusion. Does he know? Perhaps the idiot prince might not be all that clueless about his feelings for Morgana, the reason why he never got any sleep.

Arthur brought his heavy hand on Merlin's shoulder. “She's stronger than all of us.”

“I know,” Merlin said.

“Oh, so you're familiar with her now?” Arthur smirked.

“Just—from what I've observed.” Merlin rolled his eyes and shrugged off the prince's hand. “She’s the man of the castle it seems.”

“Right. Quite observant.” His head tilted in Morgana’s direction. “Get the horses. Before you face the real man of the castle when he catches you ogling his ward.”

“My father would have your head if he found out. . .your affections for the lady Morgana,” Arthur had told him once. Now he was singing a different tune.

Merlin would spend his nights in his room restless, pacing, wringing his hands together until he could resist no more and make that memorized route to Morgana's chambers. He wouldn’t even touch his own bed if he didn’t go to her first, like some part of him was tied to her with taut golden chains.

He had poured over his books, both medicinal and magic, to look for other remedies for her. He had surreptitiously whispered little incantations her way while she sighed in her sleep, hoping it would help her rest undisturbed and dissolve her nightmares into the dark.

He couldn’t tell if his sleepless nights were because of worrying about Morgana or if it was the guilt of not being fully honest with her, about not telling her about his magic. How much more of himself could he give away to her? He had convinced himself this was the most he could do for Morgana without endangering his own secret. So why did it feel so wrong to not tell her? Why did he have the overwhelming urge to tell her everything every time he was with her?

There was a thought that gnawed at his conscience, at his sense of certainty that he was doing the right thing: he was not worthy of the complete trust that she put in him.

No. This was the only way. Keeping his magic a secret was the one important thing Gaius and Kilgharrah had hammered into his head. But she had already accepted him. Did she not?

For now he’ll keep her company in the late hours of the evening, as if that’s any less preposterous.

In Morgana’s chambers blue moonlight veiled over them. It was early in the morning, still dark and quiet and it was time for Merlin to leave. Morgana’s face was close to his as her hand slid over his forearm. Their interactions had been growing bolder, especially on her part.

“Thank you,” Morgana whispered, “for not thinking I’m insane.”

It was rare for Merlin to be thanked for anything. He would cherish the feeling. And yet, deep down he knew he did not deserve her gratitude. Tell her the truth.

She was so close. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to hold her again like he did when she had woken up from her nightmare. He wanted her.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to tell her everything. Absolve himself. Submit himself to the inevitable, because then she would question him harshly for not telling her sooner. They would lose the fragile thing that had grown between them, the thing he did not want to let go of just yet.

He bit his tongue and then his lip. “Good night, Morgana.” He hesitated before opening the door. He took one last look at her and held the door wider.

Morgana’s hand covered his.

Merlin turned to her with a questioning look. His gaze was locked on her emerald eyes which were now deep and dark and he gravitated towards them. She pushed the door closed with her hand still covering his and led him away from his exit.

Her other hand was now on his chest over his pounding heart and he couldn’t breathe.

“Morgana. . .” he whispered. A plea? A question? He didn’t know anymore.

She grabbed his neckerchief to pull him down. She kissed him softly. For a few lingering seconds he was shocked, as if he was waiting to wake up from a dream.

When she pulled away her breath hitched at the longing look in his eyes—a yearning that possessed him and dictated his every move.

Merlin was still for a few beats until he reached up and delicately held her face in his hands. The candle flames went still as they watched the two bask in their mellow light.

He kissed her like he'd waited for this all his life.

This was why they didn’t know who started it. If it was Morgana with her gentle kiss of gratitude or Merlin who kissed her again with such urgency, holding her close to him like a drowning man clinging to driftwood as they made their way to her plush bed. He shivered when her hands slid under his shirt.

Perhaps he should feel ashamed for his own lack of hesitation. But the feeling of her clinging to him as he laid her down on the bed, knowing she needed him just as much as he needed her—it was divine. He wanted to feel it all the time.

For her. All for her, he convinced himself.

Along with all their clothes, barriers fell to the ground.

Merlin pulled away, hands on either side of Morgana’s head and looked deep into her eyes. He brushed his thumb against her cheek and felt something in his chest swell. He committed the forbidden candlelit image to memory: her lustrous raven hair flowing across white plains of bedsheets, dark eyelashes on her heavy-lidded gaze, soft creamy skin that felt unreal under his calloused palms. He wondered if she’d had a prophetic dream of this moment.

Morgana pulled him down roughly. “Don’t you dare leave now,” she said in a heated tone.

There was mischief in the way the corner of Merlin’s lip curled. As if that even crossed his mind. “I wasn’t going to,” he said into her neck, “I’ve wanted you. . .for so long.” His lips descended on hers once again.

The dragon’s warnings about the woman were null in that moment. All reason has left the warlock. Only she and him remained—her hands on his chest, his fingers in her hair, her body under his. He’ll deal with the consequences later.