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Merlin hadn’t expected to find Morgana in her – her words, not his – forest hovel. He had hoped that she was dead, though he’d suspected that he would likely know for sure if she was dead rather than if she’d managed to escape death yet again. But if she lived, there was no reason for her to return to the place she’d used as a meeting place while she’d planned her capture of Camelot. Merlin had happened to play an important part in turning that capture into a failure rather than a victory, in case anyone wondered.
Merlin had gone to the hovel because what were his other options? Go home? His mother would have no end of sensible comments, and there was a good chance she wouldn’t be happy to learn of everything he’d done since he’d gone to Camelot. So that’s out. What else was there? OK, there were a number of other choices that would give him a comfortable place to stay, but he wanted a place to better match his mood.
For one moment, Merlin had felt that he understood why Morgana had chosen to stay in the forest rather than go basically anywhere else. Not that the hovel was actually that uncomfortable, but that was just by hovel standards. That moment of shared feeling was completely erased when he found that Morgana was there.
Merlin had a lot of bad memories of the hovel, which enhanced it from not the worst resting spot in the woods to a holiday destination. He could lie on the floor and think of all the ways Arthur was at fault. Here Merlin had been enslaved to Morgana’s will. Here Gaius had been tortured. Here Morgana and Agravaine had talked about how much they hated Arthur in between plotting on his life, plots which had been foiled. Merlin’s mental reckoning of all the plots he’d stopped with no need for thanks, or the slightest appreciation was getting good when Morgana walked into the hovel.
Morgana almost stepped on him, which was a great metaphor for her failure to recognize true danger and also a sign that Merlin probably should’ve moved a bit further away from the door. It was a decent size for even two people at once, and even more than that could fit in comfortably if they wanted to. Merlin leapt to his face, catching himself on a tree for balance. Morgana’s hand came up like she thought that was necessary to cast a spell. Maybe it was, for her.
“What are you doing here?” She demanded.
“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked, which was a far more reasonable question.
“I asked first,” Morgana said, with all the maturity that embracing evil has granted her.
“Yeah, but you could be anywhere else and instead you’re in a rubbish shack?” After having a chance to poke around without a need to hurry, Merlin thought it was a pretty decent place. But it wasn’t a palace, and some people were overly attached to those.
“It holds memories,” Morgana said, looking into the distance. Merlin couldn’t imagine what she would be looking at.
“Good ones?” Merlin hadn’t liked Morgause, but Morgana had been attached to her so presumably she wasn’t looking back at her sister dying and that would leave just failed plans.
“No.”
…As Merlin had decided to stay in the place for the same reason, he doesn’t have an immediate retort to that. He was pretty sure he was also still in shock at having almost been stepped on by Morgana, so he felt his lack of a good immediate comeback can be excused.
Morgana glared at him again. “You still haven’t said why you are here. Alone. I would have seen signs if there was anyone with you.” She reminded him of Arthur for a brief flash, which no one would want him to say. Including himself. She reminded him of Uther too, which he decided to keep in reserve for when it could be best used. “Did you think you could hunt me down for your master?”
Merlin may not have been able to resist the temptation to roll his eyes. “I hoped you were dead, and I assumed you would be gone. Free for me to stay a bit.”
“I’m glad to have destroyed your hopes, yet again. I live. You won’t for much longer.” Morgana paused. “Why did you search for some place to stay?” Yet another death threat ruined by a need for gossip. Morgana wasn’t the first and – unless she suddenly gained the power to kill him – she wouldn’t be the last. “Did you and Arthur have a little fight?”
Merlin considered his options. Since (part of) the truth would come out sooner or later, he might as well tell her. It wasn’t as if she could use it against him, now. “Arthur found out I have magic.”
“You have magic?” Morgana stared at him. Actually, this was a look that made her really look like Arthur. Especially when she turned and stormed out into the forest, slamming the door behind her.
Merlin wondered if he should go after her. But if he went after her there was likely to be a fight, and he was trying to avoid that. If she had plans, he would foil them, but she didn’t look up to that much just now. Merlin didn’t see her storming the citadel all by herself.
Morgana slammed the door open when Merlin had just settled down to supper. The chair was pretty comfortable, and the table nice. A lot of the magical instruments and ingredients were gone or destroyed, but there were still enough to give the impression of a sorcerer’s lair. The door was, apparently, strong enough to survive being lived in by a dramatic door slammer.
“So, my dear brother revealed his colors yet again,” Morgana said, as if it hadn’t taken her a few hours to figure out what to say. “Arthur won’t bend for even his most loyal servant, even now he knows that the servant is willing to turn on his own kind. Or is that how you managed to save your head.”
“You never gave Arthur a chance. Do you really think he would’ve killed you for having magic? Arthur didn’t ‘betray’ you because you have magic. You can pretend all that you want, but Arthur didn’t stand against you because of your magic, but because of what you did with it. He loves you still, and he feels guilty for it after how you hurt Gaius, Gwen, Gwaine, and everyone else that you could.”
Morgana smirked at him. “Big words. And yet he banished you for your magic.” Merlin took a bite of bread and cheese. Morgana clearly saw victory in his silence. “Do you remember when you said that I could change Uther’s mind about magic?”
Merlin remembered it now. It didn’t go well with all the other guilt he’d stirred up with his speech. “Arthur isn’t Uther. Not that you ever tried to make Uther see anything but evil in magic.”
“How often has your precious Arthur condemned magic for no reason other than his father did? Even now that Uther’s gone, nothing has changed.” Morgana was having fun gloating, which was reason enough for Merlin to not want to think about what it meant that she was wrong about Arthur.
If Morgana was right, then Merlin’s righteous anger was fully justified. If Morgana was wrong, then there might be some truth to one or two of the things Arthur had said.
“Did Gaius teach you? He taught you to stand apart from your people.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, again. “Yeah, I saw how much your actions helped everyone who has magic. Sorcerers everywhere drink a toast in your name.”
“If I ruled Camelot, magic would no longer be banned. You would’ve been free.” Morgana almost sounded like the woman Merlin had once admired, looking off into the distance again. Almost, but not really that close.
“Pretty sure I’d be dead.”
Morgana paused. “…It wouldn’t be because you have magic.” Merlin has to give her this: that might be true. Merlin tried to eat his cheese in a pointed manner. Morgana turned away to stare at a mostly empty shelf. “You would still protect Arthur, even now,” Morgana said.
Merlin looked at her, not attempting to hide his disbelief at her attempt at putting on a sorrowful tone. “Even after you tried to get me to kill Arthur, almost tortured Gaius to death, almost destroyed Gwen’s life for good, and hurt my friends when you tried to take over? Or should that be even after you tried to kill me, kidnapped Gwen, almost killed Arthur multiple times? If we’re going back to some little stuff that would’ve stopped me being on your side the first time you tried to take the throne?” Or possibly the second time, if you count the skeletons, but that hadn’t gotten far off the ground. He couldn’t quite manage to put killing Uther on the list, even if that had given Arthur another bad impression of magic.
“It was necessary,” Morgana said.
“No, it really wasn’t.” They sit – and stand – in uncomfortable silence. Merlin would almost prefer it if she tried to attack him. Once he finished the bread, he let her have the hovel so he could go hunting mushrooms. Morgana was gone when he got back, which Merlin took as a sign that she felt she’d won by not leaving first and that had been enough to allow her to leave.
The so called hovel really was surprisingly comfortable and better made than Merlin had realized when he’d been being tortured or trying to peer through an old man’s eyes. It was amazing how little things can get in the way of a good look around. He wondered who had built it. There was a peace to it – now that Morgana had taken herself off – and a sense of wholeness with the forest around it. So unassuming on the outside, and yet with great potential inside. It felt right to stay there.
Merlin lay with the pillow under his head, admiring the candles. They didn’t have candles all over like this back in Ealdor. Candles don’t come cheap. Of course, you weren’t meant to stay up that late, not when there were fields and other work the next morning. Merlin didn’t miss farm chores.
…Obviously Merlin did trust Arthur. If he didn’t trust Arthur, why would he help him? It was unfair of Arthur to have expected Merlin to trust him with dangerous secrets, after everything, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t trust. Just because there was stuff he hadn’t said, Arthur had taken it far too personally.
Merlin was right to be concerned! Look at what had happened: Arthur found out and here he was, far away from Arthur. What if something went wrong while Merlin was out here in the forest, because Arthur was too proud to ask for Merlin’s help.
Merlin slipped towards sleep thinking of his fight with Arthur, even as he tried to admire the glass ornaments. He was woken up when Morgana tossed a cup of cold water over him. The cup was sure to leave a bruise.
“Couldn’t you have just tried to murder me in my sleep?” He groaned, rubbing his head.
“Come with me,” Morgana said, with an imperiousness that did remind him of when they first met, though with none of the kindness to balance it out. As he had nothing better to do in the middle of the night, he followed her out – almost tripping on his face when she stuck a foot out.
“I thought the clumsiness might have been part of your web of deceit,” Morgana said.
Merlin was distracted from a proper response (several rude hand gestures) when he saw who else was with them. Aithusa has grown since the egg first cracked but remains just as beautiful. The dragon’s white scales shine in the moon, the wings stretch out far more than they had. Merlin felt the same rightness as he had when the first new dragon had stepped into the world. He felt the same sense of awe, and the same certainty that a world where Aithusa could live free and without fear was the world he should help build.
“She saved me,” Morgana said.
OK, Aithusa didn’t have great taste. But everyone had their flaws.
Morgana looked at him. Merlin looked back, resisting the urge to rub his shin. Morgana tried to put more meaning into the look, but if she wanted him to get it, she shouldn’t have woken him in the middle of the night.
“Do you see?” Morgana finally said, once she realized the pointed looks weren’t working.
“Did you have something to do with Lancelot ‘returning’? I try not to assume that everything is one person’s fault, but it feels like your style.” Lancelot’s smile of relief when he was sent back to rest didn’t look anything like Aithusa – even in the sense of rightness, but there was an overlap in his heart.
Morgana went back to glaring at him. “Get out of my house.”
“Doesn’t finders keepers mean anything to you?” He covered a yawn with his hand. “Where did you get it from, anyway? I would’ve thought you’d stay in a castle somewhere. You could’ve used wiles to get a room.”
“Wiles?” Morgana asked.
“You know. Magic.” If Merlin didn’t have a firm set of ethics and morals and so on, he’d have an easy time getting a room wherever he wanted. Morgana didn’t have any of that.
“There is only one castle I will live in: the one that’s mine by right.” Merlin was almost certain it wasn’t. Looking at it from the conquering angle, Morgana had failed to win it twice. “Even Arthur understands the principle. He didn’t run off to one of his cousins’ castles.”
“Arthur has cousins?” The surprise was enough to jolt Merlin back into (almost) full wakefulness.
Morgana raised an eyebrow. “Uther had a brother and three sisters. Arthur has a lot of cousins.” Merlin didn’t even think of pointing out that they’re Morgana’s cousins too. “You do know what cousins are? I’m sure they exist even in small villages.”
“Yeah, but the cousins I knew actually knew each other. This is just like when Agravaine showed up.”
“Several of Arthur’s cousins live in Camelot.” Morgana’s ‘you’re an idiot’ look was another look that was a bit too close to Arthur’s for comfort. It didn’t change that Merlin’s surprise was fully deserved. He had heard about the royalty of different kingdoms sometimes being related to each other but applying that to Uther had never occurred to him.
Morgana waved her hand, trying to regain a mystique that had failed during her impromptu genealogy session. It was the Geoffrey of it all. “I built this with my own hands.”
“Do you mean metaphorically, or did you practice wood carving? It’s not bad wood carving.” Merlin did have to go and build his own, better house now, but he could provoke Morgana a little more first.
“You are very lucky that there’s no point in killing Arthur’s former servant,” Morgana said, grandly. Merlin knew he’d been right: there was something off with Morgana’s magic. He was certain she would love to kill him; she just couldn’t manage it. “He would probably be happy to know someone had gotten rid of you, so he doesn’t have to do it himself.”
“No, I think that’s you.” That Arthur would feel slightly relieved to learn was dead, no matter how much he wanted the Morgana he’d loved back. Arthur apparently has a lot of cousins around, so he was less sentimental about family than Merlin had thought, but he’s sentimental about Morgana. Merlin can’t claim to share that sentimentality. Morgana’s grudge against him wasn’t entirely unfair and even trying to kill Arthur was at least normal. When she’d betrayed Gwen – who even Morgana knew hadn’t wronged her – Merlin managed to get over old sympathies.
Merlin might not always be the best friend someone could have, but at least he wasn’t Morgana. Actually, that went for using morally questionable magic on people, too. And yet he still bet that Arthur wouldn’t have gotten all shirty if Morgana had let him in to her secret. If Merlin had told Arthur about his magic and then Morgana had revealed hers, Arthur might have told her. Then where would everyone have been? It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t trust Arthur, it was that Arthur could be too trusting.
“If I find you here again, I will kill you,” Morgana said. Merlin was a bit too busy with an important revelation to care about another threat, so he didn’t bother to try to look impressed. Besides, he had a better house to build.
He gave Morgana a cheerful wave goodbye, the sound of her cursing giving him a slight pep in his step, until he almost ran into a tree.