Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin woke in a panic, which immediately yielded to the pounding in his head. Before he opened his eyes, he clutched at his head as if he could somehow smother the pain, but the movement only informed him that his entire body ached.

When he did open his eyes, he saw Morgana.

He tried to scramble to his feet, but his boots slid on slick stone, and he did not have the strength to right himself. He slumped against the wall with a small moan.

Morgana smirked. “Did no one warn the great Emrys about using too much magic?”

Panic anew shot through Merlin’s heart, but even as he struggled to make sense of her words, the memories started to return.

He had placed the curse beneath Morgana’s bed to drain her magic, but as a High Priestess, she must have discovered it. When he and Arthur confronted Morgana and Helios in the throne room — along with Gwen, Tristan, and Isolde — she unleashed a wave of magic that could have killed them all had Merlin not intervened.

He didn’t remember much forethought before he revealed himself in a blaze of magic. The battle was a blur, but he did remember fighting Morgana. She was powerful, but he’d gotten the upper hand and knocked her unconscious.

Oh, this was the part where he’d been stupid.

He remembered meeting Arthur’s eyes and recognizing the betrayal there. Desperation had consumed him. He’d so wanted to prove to Arthur that he was on his side that he’d then killed Helios and all those who remained of his army in a show of magic he had not known himself capable. The last thing he remembered was hitting the hard stone of the floor.

No wonder his body felt seconds from death.

But that didn’t explain — oh.

Yes, now that Merlin looked beyond Morgana, he could see that they were in cells in what was undeniably Camelot’s dungeons. He’d never seen this part before, but he recognized the iron bars and stone walls. His and Morgana’s cells shared a wall of lattice iron, so he had a perfect view of her growing smirk.

“Are you proud of yourself for betraying your kind? As you can see, we both ended up in the same place.”

She was also sitting on the ground, her black dress tucked around her, but she lifted her arms to encompass the dreariness of their surroundings. Though there were other cells, the two of them were the only people down here. It was too dark to determine much else when there was but one sconce on the wall outside their cells.

“At least I didn’t kill innocents to get here,” Merlin said, his voice raspy.

“No, you just watched as innocents died,” Morgana snarled. “You knew I had magic — you knew how I was suffering — and you said nothing.”

Merlin winced. There was much he regretted in his life, and much of it to do with Morgana, but that was one choice that still haunted him. He’d trusted that Gaius knew best, but if Merlin had told Morgana the truth, would they be here now? Or would Merlin be dead and Morgana the tyrannical queen of Camelot? He would never know, but he would always wonder.

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly. “I hated to leave you in the dark, but my job is to protect Arthur, and I—”

“Why?” Morgana growled. “Why would you protect him? He’s Uther’s son. You saved his life and put him back on his throne, and he still threw you down here with me.”

Merlin could not deny how the truth struck him deep, and by the triumph on Morgana’s face, she saw it, too. Then Merlin took a deep breath.

“Arthur is the Once and Future King, and it is foretold that he will unite the lands of Albion and return magic to the land. I believe that. I really do. And if he—-” Merlin’s voice broke on the last word, and he took another deep breath to continue. “Whatever he does to me, I still believe that. Everything I’ve done is to bring about that future.”

“Please,” Morgana snorted. “I lived with the two of you for years. You protected him because you love him.”

“That, too,” Merlin said simply.

Morgana looked startled to hear him admit it, but locked in a dungeon beneath the castle, he didn’t see much point in lying anymore. It clearly hadn’t served him well in the past anyway.

When she failed to have a response to that, Merlin tried to take in more of his new situation. Neither he nor Morgana were chained, but their cells did not allow much movement. The rest of the prison seemed bare, but then he saw runes etched into the stone walls and even on some of the iron bars.

Ah, that explained why he and Morgana were not clapped in chains. The entire prison was charmed to muffle magic. He wasn’t about to test his own while Morgana was watching, but he could guess that she already determined she could not perform a magical escape here.

“State secret,” Morgana said bitterly. “Uther probably killed the sorcerer who did it, but these dungeons were charmed to make sure no one could use their magic down here.”

“The perfect place to store Emrys and the last High Priestess of the Old Religion,” Merlin said wryly.

Morgana gave him a strange look, and Merlin shrugged. He didn’t really understand it either.

Vaguely, he realized he should probably be panicking or at least dreading what was to come next, but after fearing this moment his entire life, there was an odd relief. He’d returned Arthur to Camelot, saved the lives of his friends and people, and defeated the enemy. His magic was out in the open, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

Sure, Arthur had thrown him in the same dungeon as Morgana, and that didn’t bode well, but he felt oddly at peace about it. Maybe deep down, he didn’t believe Arthur would execute him.

Or maybe he was just tired.

“I’m going to sleep,” Merlin said. He almost told her to wake him if anything happened, but he remembered they didn’t have that relationship anymore.

He curled onto his side, facing away from her, and with that prick of sadness, he let sleep take him once more.

…

When the door opened with a creak and a stream of light, Merlin thought he was hallucinating at first. He and Morgana were ignoring each other, and he’d just been thinking about how tired he was of staring at the same spot on the wall.

Then Gwaine emerged, and Merlin smiled.

He leapt to his feet, which was a mistake, and he ended up leaning against the iron bars to stay upright.

“Whoa there, no need for all that on my account,” Gwaine greeted with a dashing smile, but his eyes held depths.

Merlin realized Gwaine would know everything, possibly even what Arthur was planning, and the thought was enough to temper his joy.

Then Gwaine lifted a basket full of blankets, food, and water skins. “I come with gifts,” he said.

He slid a plate of bread, cheese, and fruit through a hole in the iron lattice and then handed the skin to Merlin through the bars. Merlin immediately took a drink but carefully stopped himself from draining the entire thing. He didn’t yet know how frequently he’d receive meals. He also immediately wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.

Gwaine slid an equal supply of rations through the bars of Morgana’s cell. He said, “I won’t even make you fight for it,” but she continued to ignore them both, her body curled toward the wall.

Gwaine sat down next to Merlin’s cell, and with relief, Merlin sat as well. His body still ached, and exhaustion was quick to take him.

“Are you okay?” Gwaine asked softly.

“Sure, for the circumstances,” Merlin said. “It’s good to see you. I’m a little surprised you’re allowed down here.”

“Gwen wanted to come, but Arthur wouldn’t let her. I suppose these cells haven’t been tested against a magic user in a long time.”

Merlin flinched. “I would never—”

Gwaine shook his head. “Not you,” he said with a tilt of his head toward the other occupied cell.

“Oh,” Merlin said, and he felt both relieved and guilty over that relief. “I guess Arthur wasn’t worried about me then.”

“Mate, I think Arthur assumed you could hold your own. I was in the dungeons, getting ready to join the fight, and suddenly every one of Helios’s men dropped dead. I didn’t know sorcerers could do that.”

Merlin searched Gwaine’s eyes for fear, but he found only awe and the affection and familiarity of a friend. He found himself relaxing a little more, his body slumping further against the iron bars.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said.

“Why? For winning the kingdom back and saving our lives?”

“For lying.”

Gwaine pressed his lips together and nodded. “Well, it’s not like we don’t realize why you did. Well, Arthur will once he gets his head out of his ass.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. When he met Gwaine’s gaze once more, he said, “So he’s angry?”

Gwaine shrugged. “At first. I nearly took a swing at him when I heard he’d put you down here, too, but Arthur assured me it was just temporary. I wish I could tell you more, but he’s putting the kingdom back together. It was all I could do to get approval to come down here.”

“I suppose that’s not the worst news,” Merlin said though his stomach still squirmed uncomfortably.

“He’ll come around,” Gwaine said.

“Thanks. And for the food and water, too.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I feel like I should be thanking you.”

Gwaine’s gaze was so heavy that Merlin wanted to look away. He could feel the weight of the questions he wasn’t asking, and Merlin didn’t know if it was Morgana’s presence or concern for Merlin’s well-being that stopped him, but either way, Merlin was grateful.

“Make it up to me by telling me what’s going on in the castle,” Merlin proposed.

Gwaine grinned, and he talked about the rebuilding efforts and the aid being offered to all citizens who were displaced.

“Speaking of, I’m supposed to help with the cleanup in the lower town,” Gwaine said, rising to his feet. “But I’ll be back, okay?”

Merlin nodded and smiled, and he tried not to ache as his friend left, closing the door and taking the stream of light with him. He was once again left in the dark with a single lantern and Morgana.

…

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The two of them had been sitting in silence for so long that Merlin needed a moment to interpret the words. He shifted his gaze from the wall to Morgana’s cell where she was sitting opposite of him. She had draped her blanket over her lap, and she still had a regal air about her even now.

“Tell you what?” Merlin said.

“About your magic. You knew about mine.”

Merlin almost mentioned Gaius and Kilgharrah, but though they had both warned him, he’d ultimately been the one to make the decision.

“You were Uther’s ward. I couldn’t take that risk,” he said, which was true but perhaps not the whole truth. Even he couldn’t really pin down the reasoning behind his decisions regarding Morgana.

He could try to explain the prophecies that surrounded her as they surrounded Arthur and him, but it seemed cruel to inform her that she was destined for evil. Besides, whatever their prophecies had said about them, they had ended up in the same cell.

“I helped protect the Druid boy. That was before Morgause and—” Morgana sighed, and Merlin appreciated that she wasn’t forcing him to explain why he didn’t trust her after that.

“You’re right,” Merlin acknowledged. “But he was just a child, and I’m, well.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t be sure that you’d feel the same about me.”

“I think I would have,” Morgana said quietly. Then her face darkened, and she spat, “You knew about mine. You knew how I was suffering, and you did nothing.”

Merlin winced. “I arranged for you to meet the Druids.”

“Yes, and do you remember how that went?”

It was true, and for a moment, they both struggled under the weight of the innocent Druids who had died due to their own foolishness.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “If I could go back and change things, I would.”

“Even poisoning me?” Morgana snarled.

“No.”

Morgana startled, apparently shocked at his response. Hate gleamed in her eyes, and Merlin had no doubt that she would kill him now if she could.

“You were the vessel of the spell. It was the only way to save Camelot,” Merlin said. “I did tell Morgause the poison, so she could save you, but I understand if you can never forgive me.”

Morgana’s eyes grew wide, and Merlin wondered which part she didn’t know. Then again, perhaps she didn’t believe him.

Either way, she didn’t respond, and Merlin eventually let his gaze drift to the wall once more.

…

When the door opened this time, Gwen appeared in a glow of light, and Merlin’s heart leapt. He was thrilled to see the smiling face of his friend, and he was also relieved that Arthur had allowed her to visit. Perhaps that only showed faith in the magic-suppressing qualities of the prison, but Merlin still considered it a good sign.

Gwen’s smile faltered for a moment when she met Morgana’s eyes, but Morgana sneered and turned away from her. Heartbreak flashed across Gwen’s face, but she recovered her smile by the time she came to Merlin’s cell.

“I have food and water,” she greeted. She slid one basket through the bars of Morgana’s cell, which she ignored, and slid the other into Merlin’s.

“I’m just glad to see you,” Merlin said.

He did not bother trying to stand, and he was grateful when Gwen sat next to him. The two of them leaned against the bars, and Merlin could almost pretend for a moment that they were sharing a moment of reprieve on the castle steps as they used to do between chores. He wondered if Gwen was thinking the same thing.

“How are you?” Gwen asked, but she winced as if she realized the inane quality of the question.

“Good,” Merlin said because he didn’t want to talk about the pain that still lingered in his body or the fear that grew with each passing hour. “A little bored.”

That startled a small laugh from her. “You’re missing out on all the clean-up upstairs,” Gwen said. “Arthur’s chambers were a mess.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “His chambers are always a mess.”

Gwen’s smile faded, and she grew serious. “He’s a bit of a mess right now, too,” she admitted in a whisper.

“Is he angry?”

“He’s more hurt than angry though he’ll never admit it,” she confided.

“And you?” Merlin asked.

“I suppose I was a little hurt,” Gwen said. “Maybe even a little angry for just a moment. But mostly I’m curious. Maybe a little confused.”

Merlin huffed out a bitter chuckle. “Fair enough,” he said. “You can ask me anything. I know I hid this big thing from you, but I didn’t want to put you in danger in case—” He shrugged. “But I always considered you a close friend. I still do if you’ll have me.”

Gwen’s eyes shined. “Of course I’ll have you,” she assured him. “I don’t doubt you’re my friend, and trust me, we all know you saved us.”

Relief washed over Merlin once again. It was one thing to hear the sentiment from Gwaine, who had seen much in his travels, and quite another to hear it from Gwen, who had grown up in Camelot and its magic-fearing ways.

“I suppose I’m unsure about… how much of it was a lie?” Gwen’s voice was small as if she didn’t want to throw the accusation at Merlin’s feet, but she’d always been brave about the difficult conversations.

“I’m still me,” Merlin said, and he tried to smile.

“I know. Really, I do,” Gwen said. “It’s just, they’re saying you’re more than a sorcerer. That you’re more powerful than anyone else. If that’s true, why would you be a servant in Camelot?”

Panic struck Merlin, and he desperately wanted to ask who was saying these things and what exactly they were saying. Surely, Gaius wouldn’t be spreading around the truth of his destiny. Were the Druids involved somehow?

Then Merlin really took the time to read the emotion on Gwen’s face, and he stopped himself. To her, this wasn’t about his destiny or great power. It was about their friendship and whether it was built on a lie.

He couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure they’d have become as close as they were if they hadn’t both been servants. He had relied on her knowledge so much during the early days, and then he’d come to rely on her for companionship and kindness. They both understood the trials that came with their class. Even while Arthur had grown in that area, only they really understood the helplessness and frustration of being a peasant at court.

Merlin stretched his hand through the bars of his cell, and Gwen immediately took his hand and squeezed.

“You met my mother,” he said. “You saw where I grew up. None of that was a lie.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. I was born with magic, and my mother taught me to hide it. I knew I was different of course, but I didn’t know I was different among magic users until I came to Camelot,” he said with a shrug.

“You could have gone anywhere,” Gwen said.

“Maybe, but my mother thought I should come to Camelot. I think we both hoped I’d find a purpose here, and I did,” he said with a smile. “But I’m still a peasant from a small village. Just one with magic.”

She giggled and squeezed his hand again.

“I know it must seem silly,” she said. “It doesn’t really matter, but I just. I guess for a moment, I wondered if I really knew you.”

“You do,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry I hid this from you.”

“It’s not like I can’t understand why,” Gwen admitted. “And honestly, looking back, it does explain some things. You’ve always acted so strangely compared to anyone else.”

Merlin laughed. “Part of my charm.”

“I suppose it is,” Gwen laughed. “And you saved my father, didn’t you? From the plague?”

Merlin winced. “Yes, and I nearly got you executed for it. I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to say sorry for everything, you know,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. “I’m grateful. I also know you helped get me out of prison then.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“I’m starting to think you never do the least,” Gwen teased.

Before Merlin could think of a response, a guard appeared in the doorway and informed Gwen that she needed to leave the dungeon. Gwen pressed her lips together, but Merlin squeezed her hand once more and assured her that they could speak again. He didn’t really know if that was true, but she nodded and left with conflict shining in her eyes.

Once the door shut behind Gwen, Merlin started eating from the basket of food, and he tried not to wonder why he hadn’t heard from Arthur yet. Surely, if he allowed Gwaine and Gwen to see him, he wasn’t planning on executing him before he had a chance to explain.

“Funny how they’ve embraced you with open arms,” Morgana hissed.

Merlin sighed. “I didn’t try to kill them, Morgana,” he said.

“It may not matter,” she said. “We’re both still down here after all.”

Merlin abandoned the food and laid down on his side once again. He wasn’t really hungry anymore.

…

Two guards came for Merlin. They clasped manacles around his wrists and marched him out of his cell.

For just a moment he met Morgana’s eyes, and they shared a look of panic. He wasn’t sure if she would mourn him if he was executed — probably not — but it wouldn’t bode well for her fate.

Then the guards escorted him out of the prison, and the moment he crossed through the doorway, he felt the return of his magic. If he wanted, he could escape right now, but instead he allowed the guards to lead him to what he now recognized as part of Camelot’s standard dungeons.

They took him to an interrogation room, and they attached his manacles to chains that hung from the ceiling. They were intentionally too short, so he held his arms above his head in a position that was all too familiar after he was captured by Morgana.

The low-level panic rose like a cresting wave as he surveyed the many tools of torture on the walls. Surely, Arthur wouldn’t— but suddenly, he didn’t know.

It was easy to have faith that Arthur would not execute him in the face of Morgana’s disdain, but alone and chained, he now wondered. Arthur had just been betrayed by Morgana and Agravaine. He would see Merlin’s secret as a betrayal, too.

Merlin did not know how long he stood in the interrogation room, but it was plenty of time for his arms to ache and his thoughts to turn against him. When the door finally opened to reveal Arthur, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or panicked. Something was certainly making his heart hammer in his chest.

Merlin met Arthur’s eyes, and he could see worlds of emotion in their blue depths, but his jaw settled into anger. Arthur shut the door behind him.

They were alone, a situation that was familiar, but Merlin had never felt so vulnerable. He had his magic, but he would not use it, not like this. Arthur had not brought a sword, but then again, he had ample weapons among the torture devices, so that did not mean much.

Merlin could barely breathe, the silence between them suffocating him. “Arthur—”

Arthur shook his head, and Merlin stopped.

When Arthur did speak, his voice was carefully measured in a way that Merlin knew was difficult for him.

“I have spoken with Gaius, Gwaine, and Guinevere. Others, too. But I want to hear it from you,” he said. As I should have, goes unspoken.

Merlin nodded. “I was born with magic,” he said. “I use it for you. To protect you. To protect Camelot.”

“Why?”

“Because you are the greatest king—”

“No,” Arthur growled. “I don’t want to hear any more rubbish about how I am the greatest king this land will ever know. You may be a sorcerer — even a powerful one — but you’re also a man, and I’ve known you for years. Why?”

Heat flushed Merlin’s cheeks, and he genuinely did not know if this was going well or not, but he owed Arthur the truth.

“You’re my friend,” he said. “And I believe in the world you’re trying to create. I think Camelot could be something special if we— if we work for it.”

“A world where magic reigns?” Arthur challenged.

Merlin narrowed his eyes, and ah, there was the steel he always found with Arthur. Perhaps he was a chained prisoner before the king, but they’d always had a way of transcending their stations when together.

“A world where no one lives in fear. Where people with magic are just people, and they can use their gifts to help others without facing death for it.”

Arthur held his gaze for a long time, and then he nodded as if Merlin had confirmed something. The king left him for a moment, and Arthur appeared vulnerable and tired in a way that tugged at Merlin’s heart.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said. “I hoped you might someday know, but I never wanted to put you in this position. I’m sorry you’re in it now. Though I’m not sorry for what I did. Whatever you do to me, I don’t regret it.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Merlin,” Arthur said, and he actually had the nerve to sound exasperated as if Merlin was being unreasonable.

“You put me in a prison,” Merlin pointed out, and then he moved his arms just enough to rattle the chains. “And, well—”

Arthur winced. “I didn’t tell them to put you in chains. I just thought this would be a private place for us to talk. Hold on.”

He pulled a key from his belt, and Merlin held his breath as Arthur came close. Merlin was more than familiar with Arthur’s personal space, but normally, Merlin tended to Arthur in various states of undress. Now Merlin felt very aware of how he was still filthy from battle and several days in prison, and yet Arthur seemed unbothered.

He unlocked the chains, and for a moment, Merlin lost control as he realized his body was more affected than he realized. Without hesitation, Arthur caught him and helped him into one of the wooden chairs at the table that Merlin guessed was usually put to far more unsavory purposes. Merlin folded his arms on the table and took a moment to regain equilibrium.

Arthur sat in the chair across the table and regarded him critically. “You should have told me,” he said. “Do you need medical attention? Gwaine and Guinevere didn’t say anything.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin said. “I just haven’t used that magic before, and my body is taking some time to recover.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I’ll ask Gaius if there’s something we should be doing for you.”

“Could I—?” Merlin blushed, somehow uncomfortable to ask. His voice was small when he said, “Could I see him?”

Arthur winced again, and this time, panic shot through Merlin.

“Is he okay?” Merlin demanded. “He’s alive, right? You said you talked to him—”

“He’s alive,” Arthur assured him. “It was just that Morgana’s imprisonment took a toll on his health. Guinevere is tending him, but he will recover.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said, and there were tears in his voice. “Please, whatever you do to me, I don’t care, but if Gaius is dying, please let me see him.”

“I would, I would, I swear it,” Arthur insisted. “Merlin, you know I would. If Gaius was truly in danger, I’d bring you to him, but he’s just recovering. I just didn’t think it’d be a good idea for him to walk that much.”

Merlin regained control of his breathing, and he nodded. Whatever else, he did believe Arthur.

“Besides,” Arthur said. “I’ll admit that I put you in the prison first because I didn’t know what else to do, but I’m not planning on keeping you there. Believe it or not, it’s partly for your protection.”

“My protection?” Merlin scoffed.

“Yes,” Arthur said as if Merlin was being purposefully obtuse. “Plenty of people are grateful for what you did, but the fear of magic runs deep. Some believe you’ve been plotting against Camelot all these years. If you’re in that prison, no one can come after you.”

Merlin wanted to point out that he could protect himself just fine if he was outside a magic-smothering prison, but he didn’t actually think that argument would help their situation. He could almost see the logic if he wasn’t the one forced to stay in a cage.

“There are also rumors,” Arthur admitted.

“Rumors?”

“I suppose there are those in Camelot who still follow the Old Religion or at least remember parts of it. It’s complete rubbish, but some are saying you're this mythical figure called Emrys? Apparently it’s part of the lore of the Druids. The greatest sorcerer—”

“—to ever walk the earth,” Merlin finished grimly.

Arthur’s eyes sparked. “You’re kidding,” he said.

Merlin shrugged. “It’s what the Druids call me. I’m not entirely convinced, but there are prophecies about you, too. They call you the Once and Future King. We’re supposed to unite all of Albion.”

“Well, that seems like a bloody lot of work,” Arthur said with a hysterical edge to his voice.

“Tell me about it,” Merlin agreed.

For a moment, they stared at each other in complete unity — marveling at the destiny before them and wondering at how the hell they could accomplish something like that. Then a shadow crossed Arthur’s face.

“All those times, when you told me I was a great king, was it because of the prophecy?”

“When I first learned of our destiny, I didn’t believe it,” Merlin said. “I’d just met you, and you were such a prat. I thought the prophecies were a bunch of shite.”

Arthur snorted.

“But then I was your manservant, and I got to know who you were underneath the mask of the bratty prince. That’s when I started to believe,” Merlin said, and he met Arthur’s eyes with all his conviction. “I suppose I’ll never know how I’d feel if I’d never learned of the destiny, but I believe in you, Arthur. Not in some mythical figure of the Druids. You, Arthur, the man.”

Arthur inhaled deeply, and he nodded. There was a shininess in both their eyes that they each decided to ignore.

“I don’t suppose your great destiny told you what we need to do next,” he said.

“Nope,” Merlin said. “I did my part. This next bit is on you.”

“Of course,” Arthur huffed, but there was a shift between them, and Merlin felt lighter.

Whatever happened next, they were still Merlin and Arthur. Merlin would always believe in that.

…

Once Merlin was escorted back to his cell, Morgana pretended that she didn’t notice or care.

Merlin was fine with that. He had enough to think about, so as soon as the guards left, he sat down in his usual spot and leaned his head back against the wall. He felt energized after all he and Arthur discussed — and the relief from Arthur’s better-than-expected reaction — but his body still protested everything that had happened to it in the past few days.

“You’re still alive,” Morgana observed.

“I am,” Merlin acknowledged.

“You don’t look as if you’ve been tortured.”

“Arthur wouldn’t do that,” Merlin said though he had admittedly been in the interrogation room.

“Did you see Arthur?” Morgana tried to seem as if she didn’t particularly care either way, but Merlin could sense the desperation in her.

“I did,” he said.

“What did he say?”

“He’s not going to execute me,” Merlin said, and only then did he realize that they had not spoken of Morgana.

“Yet you’re still down here,” she huffed with a bit of a hysteric tilt to her voice.

Merlin thought about ending the conversation. He was tired, and he wanted to live in the high of his conversation with Arthur. However, if he’d been a bit more honest with Morgana from the start, maybe they wouldn’t be in side-by-side cells. He owed her this at the very least.

Besides, hadn’t he already decided he was done with secrets?

“Apparently, this is partly for our safety,” Merlin said. “Between your invasion and my sudden reveal as a sorcerer, not everyone is feeling warmly toward magic users. No one can hurt us here.”

“Yes, I’m sure this is out of the goodness of Arthur’s heart,” Morgana spat.

Merlin shrugged.

“So what else did Arthur say?”

“I told him about our destiny. How he’s the Once and Future King.”

“And did he believe it?”

“I’m not sure. He said it sounded like a lot of work.”

Morgana snarled, “Then he’s not worthy of the title.”

“Morgana, that doesn’t mean he’s not going to do the work,” Merlin said. “And I mean the actual hard work of bringing people together. Not just invading and forcing people to do your will.”

Morgana pressed her lips together and turned away.

“Gaius is recovering if you’re interested,” Merlin said, and okay, he felt sorry for Morgana, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t spit barbs of his own. “He hasn’t come to visit because his health doesn’t allow for it right now.”

“What do I care? He let me suffer for years,” she said.

“He was trying to help.”

“He should have tried harder.”

“Maybe,” Merlin admitted. “I know we made mistakes. That doesn’t mean he deserved what you did to him.”

Morgana didn’t respond.

…

The next time Merlin startled awake, Tristan and Isolde walked through the door. Merlin’s eyes widened, and he carefully rose to his feet. To be honest, he’d forgotten about the two smugglers in the midst of everything else, and he was pleased, if a little surprised, to find that they were still in Camelot.

“Hello,” Isolde greeted him as casually as she did when they first met with her sword in his back.

She glanced at Morgana with curious eyes before moving on to Merlin’s cell. There was an odd bounce in her step for the grim setting.

“Hello,” Merlin responded with a wry smile. He didn’t really understand why the two of them would visit him of all people, but he was happy to receive any company. “How’s the smuggling trade?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Isolde said. “You’re looking at the next two knights in training.”

“Knights? That’s incredible. You’ll be amazing,” Merlin exclaimed, and he meant it. He was pleased to see that Arthur had grown past his initial reaction to his sword fight with Morgause. Besides, Isolde and Tristan were both talented warriors.

“Thank you. I will be,” she agreed. “In the meantime, we’re here to let you bathe. Arthur thought you might appreciate it.”

Ah, so Arthur had noticed his state of hygiene when he’d unlocked Merlin’s chains. Honestly, Merlin couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed or insulted. He was just grateful.

When he looked past Isolde, he saw two guards pouring buckets of steaming water in a tub while Tristan dragged in a screen. Once the screen blocked the tub from view, Tristan joined Isolde and offered Merlin a rakish smile.

“So there was more to you than we thought,” he said.

Merlin shrugged. “Guess so. I’m glad you’re both unhurt.”

“I think we have you to thank for that. Twice over now.”

“Sounds like you’ll be repaying the favor. Knights of Camelot,” Merlin mused.

“We thought it was time to try a new gig,” Tristian said dismissively, but there was a bashful smile on his face that he couldn’t hide. “Now do you want to bathe first or the lady?”

“I am not bathing,” Morgana snarled. “Not under guard.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Isolde assured her with the same unfazed, perky energy. “You’ll bathe behind a screen, and I’ll stand guard, but I won’t watch.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Isolde shrugged. “It’s up to you. No one will force you, but this is your chance to get clean, and we have a change of clothes for you.”

Morgana wavered, clearly torn between her pride and the prospect of some small modicum of comfort. Merlin’s heart ached for her, but he was relieved when she eventually nodded.

The guards left and shut the door behind them, and Isolde unlocked Morgana’s cell. There was a moment when Morgana met Isolde’s eyes and then Tristan’s, and after a moment of weighing her chances, she eventually retreated to the tub behind the screen.

Merlin supposed that was why Isolde and Tristan were here and not Gwen or Gwaine, and he could admire Arthur’s thinking. Isolde and Tristan were formidable opponents who Morgana would not try to overpower, but they were also the most neutral people in the castle. Morgana wouldn’t feel comfortable with them exactly, but it avoided a fair amount of awkwardness.

Isolde followed Morgana to the screen, but true to her word, she stayed close but gave Morgana the privacy she could.

While Morgana bathed, Merlin and Tristan made idle chatter to also offer what little courtesy they could given the circumstances. Tristan gave him an update on the rebuilding efforts and the logistics of restoring a kingdom after a hostile takeover. Like Gwaine, he and Isolde had been helping in the Lower Town.

“They’re saying you're some kind of god,” Tristan said.

Heat bloomed across Merlin’s cheeks. “Well, that’s not true,” he hastened to say. “At most, the Druids believe I’m Emrys, but they also believe Arthur is the Once and Future King.”

“I’ve seen a lot of magic in my travels, but I’ve never seen anything like what you did. Arthur’s lucky you’re on his side”

“I’m on his side because of the person he is.”

“Even after he’s thrown you in a dungeon?” Tristan challenged.

“Well, he is letting me have a bath, so all’s forgiven,” Merlin deadpanned.

Tristan laughed, and Merlin was grateful that he let the conversation move on to other topics. He had faith in Arthur, but he didn’t want to speculate on what would happen next. He didn’t think his heart could take it if he was wrong.

Eventually, Morgana emerged from the screen in her fresh clothes, hair damp, and Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. She was wearing simple trousers and a gray tunic with a leather belt, the same as she’d worn when she’d traveled with him to Ealdor to defend his mother and his village.

Realistically, Merlin understood that they’d probably just found what clothes of Morgana’s had been left in the castle. Most of her things had been put into storage, and he could imagine Gwen searching for clothes that would be comfortable and warm in a prison cell. Still, the image reminded Merlin that they had been friends once.

Not that he could ever forget.

Once Morgana was returned to her cell, Merlin took his turn in the bath. Tristan didn’t even bother pretending to stand guard, but Merlin supposed he wasn’t the one who’d invaded the castle recently.

He thoroughly washed every inch of skin and ran his fingers through his hair. He was so relieved to feel clean, and he wanted to stay in the water, cool or not, for hours, but he didn’t want to keep Tristan and Isolde waiting on him. He emerged and toweled off, and he was grateful to find that someone had fetched him a fresh set of clothes, too.

He pulled on his other set of trousers and his blue tunic. Someone had even thought to bring his red neckerchief, which he immediately tied around his neck.

He returned to his cell, and Tristan and Isolde offered their goodbyes.

“Good luck in knight training,” Merlin called, and Isolde’s laughter followed them out of the cell.

When the door shut behind them, Morgana asked, “Were they really smugglers?”

“Yeah, Arthur and I met them when we were fleeing Camelot.”

“Why would they fight alongside Arthur then?”

“They believed in him,” Merlin said. “And Arthur believes in them. Apparently enough to knight them.”

“Apparently,” Morgana repeated, but she sounded more confused than anything.

…

They fell into an odd routine.

At least twice a day, a guard brought them food, water, and fresh blankets. Gwaine and Gwen visited when they could, and Gwen brought books and extra lanterns to occupy them.

Merlin and Morgana did not speak much, but the active hostility had evaporated. Merlin did not know where the two of them stood, but neither of them seemed to have the energy to maintain the constant hatred. They sometimes traded the books between the bars and talked about them in a way that could even be called civil.

Merlin wished Arthur would summon him again — he understood why Arthur hadn’t come to visit him here — but he also understood from Gwen and Gwaine that Arthur was being tugged in a thousand directions at the moment. Beyond the logistics of repair, Arthur also needed to deal with the two sorcerers in his dungeon.

Apparently rumors of Merlin’s identity were spreading, and while some revered him as their savior from Morgana’s tyranny, others saw him as no better than her. Similarly, some expressed sympathy from Morgana — particularly those who remembered her as a little girl brought to the castle as Uther’s ward — but most despised her and called for her blood.

Whatever Arthur did, he needed to act carefully. Honestly, Merlin did not envy his position.

He was a little tired of his prison cell though.

The door opened, and Merlin perked up, hoping to see Gwen or Gwaine or even Tristan and Isolde, but instead, a Camelot guard brought in a basket of food. The guard shut the door behind him, and that was the first moment a touch of unease trickled down his spine. The other guards left the door open, discarded the food, and left quickly.

Now that Merlin looked closer, he didn’t recognize this guard. That wasn’t entirely unusual — Camelot had hundreds — but the same four or five had been bringing them supplies.

The guard approached Morgana’s cell first, and he dropped the basket on the ground.

Merlin slowly rose to his feet, and he approached the bars with a guarded expression. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Morgana also stand with a wary look on her face. She sensed something wrong as well.

“I’m supposed to slide the food through the bars,” the guard said. “Imagine my surprise to see so much of the castle’s rations being served to vermin like you. While Camelot’s citizens starve.”

He kicked the basket, and two loaves of bread, cheese, and apples skidded across the ground.

Merlin knew from Gwen and Gwaine that Arthur was distributing food from the castle stores to make sure none of his citizens went without, but of course, that wasn’t the point.

The guard learned against the bars of Morgana’s cell, his arms resting in the spaces between. He grinned, revealing far too many teeth.

Morgana made a show of standing firm, but Merlin noticed how she was as far away from him as the cell allowed.

“I remember when you were a lady,” he mused. “Prettiest in the castle. You’re still pretty, I’ll give you that, but you’re lower than dirt now, aren’t you?”

“How dare you,” Morgana sneered. “I’m a High Priestess.”

The guard theatrically looked around the dungeon. “From what I hear, you don’t have any power down here. In fact, seems like I have all the power here.”

He lifted a key in one hand and a dagger in the other, and Merlin saw fear in Morgana’s eyes.

Merlin didn’t know what the guard was planning, but he wasn’t about to let this go any further.

“Leave now, or you’re going to regret it,” Merlin warned, his voice low.

The guard laughed. “What are you going to do? You’re worth less than she is. I don’t care what they’re saying — you’re just a servant. I’ll gut you next and save the king the trouble.”

The guard inserted the key into the door of Morgana’s cell, and that was as far as he got. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and the guard’s body slammed into the wall. The stone behind him cracked.

The gold faded from Merlin’s eyes, and he slumped to the ground, breathing hard. His vision swam, and he had no sense of time passing. He clutched at his head until the pounding stopped, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Morgana crouched as close to him as possible from her cell.

“Merlin,” she snapped. It clearly wasn’t the first time she’d called his name. “Merlin, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred. He tried to sit up, but his body didn’t cooperate. Instead, he leaned back against the bars and moved his head so he could meet her eyes. “Yeah.”

The moment he focused on her, she compressed the worry in her expression into a neutral facade. “I think you killed him,” she said.

“I didn’t mean to,” he admitted. “I couldn’t really grasp my magic. It was harder to control.”

“But you can use magic down here,” she said.

“I guess so.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Merlin shrugged. “Arthur hasn’t released me.”

The exasperation that immediately washed over her would have been funny under different circumstances.

“You’re pathetic,” she sneered.

“Thanks,” Merlin said, but it was half-hearted at best. He was still trying to regain control of his body. The muffling effects of the dungeon didn’t cut him off from his magic, but the hold was tenuous, and his body was paying the price.

“No,” Morgana said after a moment. “Thank you. For doing that.”

She looked down at her hands, and Merlin softened. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you,” he said.

Neither of them had to point out the irony. Merlin had not held back in his battle against her, and he had poisoned her. But this was different. And maybe they were a little different now, too.

“Arthur’s going to be so mad,” Merlin realized.

That startled a laugh out of Morgana, and whatever happened next, Merlin did not regret what he had done.

…

Eventually, another guard realized one was missing, and the moment he saw the dead body in the dungeon, he scrambled back upstairs. Not long after, Tristan, Isolde, and Gwaine arrived. Gwaine escorted Merlin out of the dungeon, practically bearing half his weight, and Tristan and Isolde stayed with Morgana.

This time, Merlin was escorted all the way to Arthur’s chambers. Gwaine helped him sit at the table, and Merlin wanted to take in his surroundings, but mostly, he was struggling to catch his breath.

Gwaine sat with him and encouraged him by rubbing small circles on his back.

Arthur arrived with a slam of his door and a shouted, “Are you kidding me, Merlin?”

Merlin winced, and Gwaine squeezed his arm in support. Arthur appeared before them both with his hands on his hips.

“I am fighting for my life to prove that you’re on our side, and you go and kill someone,” Arthur exclaimed.

Merlin perked up. “You’ve been saying I’m on your side?”

“I was, but see if I keep doing it,” Arthur snapped, but then he sighed and joined Merlin and Gwaine at the table. “What happened?”

Merlin did his best to explain what had led to the gruesome murder. When he relayed what the guard had said to Morgana, Arthur gritted his teeth, and Merlin could see his hands clenching for a sword. At last, Merlin finished, and Arthur nodded.

“Fine,” Arthur said. “I’m glad you did what you did, but this does not help negotiations. Have you been able to use your magic the entire time?”

“This was the first time I tried, and the dungeon does impact my control. I didn’t actually mean to kill him, but I had to grasp my magic harder to make it work.”

It wasn’t a perfect analogy, but Merlin didn’t know how to explain it better to someone without magic. Honestly, he barely understood it.

“Most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, huh? No match for the Pendragon anti-magic dungeons?” Gwaine teased.

Merlin blushed and shrugged.

Arthur folded his hands on the table, and Merlin knew him well enough to recognize that he had an idea. Apprehension grew in his stomach as Arthur clearly reached a decision.

“Well, that settles it,” Arthur said. “There’s no point in keeping you in the dungeon in the first place, and you can clearly handle yourself. Besides, I need someone to start drafting my speeches. I’m certainly going to have to make plenty of them if I’m bringing back magic to the kingdom.”

“Fantastic,” Gwaine exclaimed, clapping Merlin on the back.

Merlin barely felt it. His eyes were wide, and he stared at Arthur as if he’d never seen the man before. “What?” he sputtered.

“Really, Merlin, keep up,” Arthur chided. “You must have known I was working on repealing the law. My father had good intentions, but clearly, magic is not what he thought.”

Merlin actually wasn’t sure Uther had good intentions, but that was far from the most important thing about what Arthur had said.

Arthur was bringing back magic. And releasing him from the dungeon. Distantly, he recognized that he should be happy — ecstatic even — but his body seemed so overwhelmed with emotion that he couldn’t quite feel any of it. Then he realized his cheeks were wet with tears, and when had that happened?

Gwaine’s hand was rubbing his back again, and Arthur’s face softened. Another time, he would have teased Merlin for the display, but not now, and Merlin was grateful for it.

However, as happy as he was, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What about Morgana?”

The smile dropped from Arthur’s face. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t bear to see her executed, but I can’t release her. She invaded Camelot twice, and she’s powerful. I can’t trust her.”

Merlin nodded, and he could see Arthur’s reasoning, but he also hadn’t shared a dungeon with her for the past couple of weeks.

“I know she’s done terrible things,” Merlin said. “I do. But I— I think there might be hope for her.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Merlin couldn’t believe he was about to say this, but when had he ever made the smart decision in his life?

“Put me back in the prison with her. If I have a bit more time, I think I can convince her to come around. Especially now that you’re repealing the ban on magic.”

“Merlin, mate, that’s a nice idea, but she’s too far gone. You don’t know all that she did when she was queen,” Gwaine said as gently as he could.

Merlin swallowed. “I know,” he said. “But I’ve made bad decisions, too. She was raised to hate and fear what she was, and she didn’t have anyone except Morgause. That would corrupt anyone.”

“It’s going to take all my political power to pardon you,” Arthur reminded him. “And you’re the one that saved Camelot.”

Merlin’s heart warmed at the acknowledgement, and once again, he wished he could just enjoy this moment for what it was. Arthur knew him and accepted him, and he was finally in reach of the Albion of his dreams.

Nevertheless, Merlin knew he could never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to bring Morgana into this Albion with him.

“Just give me some time. I’ll still write your speeches and help you in any way I can, but let me try with Morgana.”

Arthur sighed deeply, but when he glared at him, Merlin knew he had won.

“How are you more trouble than you were as a servant?” Arthur grumped.

Merlin grinned. “Maybe it’s the magic.”

“No it’s definitely just you,” Arthur said. “You have two weeks. Then whether you like it or not, you’re leaving the dungeon and coming to council meetings with me.”

Chapter Text

Morgana hated how relieved she was when Merlin returned to the dungeon. It wasn’t like she really thought Arthur would execute him for killing that guard — clearly, Arthur cared more for the man than she realized — but anxiety crept into her thoughts more and more as she waited.

She didn’t like being alone. She never had, and yet her life kept leading her down that path.

Well, until now. Whether she liked it or not, Merlin’s fate was now tied with her own. Gwaine walked him back into his cell and locked the door.

“I’ll see you later,” Gwaine told him, and Merlin nodded.

As Gwaine left the dungeon, his eyes lingered on Morgana. She sneered in return — yes, she saw the irony in their positions, and she did not need him smirking at her all the time — but he only looked curious. He left without another word.

The interaction left Morgana feeling uncertain, and she turned her attention to Merlin.

The warlock — and that still felt strange to acknowledge — immediately slid to the ground and leaned against the stone wall of his cell. He clearly never received proper training, and he didn’t seem to understand how to care for his magic and his body. Then again, he was the great and powerful Emrys — apparently too powerful even for this dungeon — so maybe there was no one who could offer him guidance.

Morgana might have sympathized with him if he hadn’t made sure she’d come into her magic the same way — at least until she met Morgause. Then of course, Merlin had killed her, too.

Anger and hatred curled in her stomach, and yes, that was much better than the anxiety. She glared at him.

“Well?”

Merlin met her eyes. “Arthur wasn’t happy with me, but he understood the circumstances. There will be no consequences,” he said.

Morgana refused to feel gratitude at that. Whatever else Arthur was, he held true to his own sense of honor. He might behead or hang Morgana, but he would not allow her to be gutted in her cell by a rogue guard. She knew him well enough to admit that.

“Yet you’re still here,” she spat.

Normally, when she reminded Merlin of that fact, he winced, which gave her a huge amount of satisfaction. Now he just looked thoughtful, and that only frustrated her more.

“I made a deal with Arthur,” Merlin said. “He wanted to release me today, but I told him I thought there was still hope that you would join our side. He’s given me two weeks.”

For a moment, Morgana could only stare. The words did not make sense to her. When they finally did, anger reared its head.

“How dare you,” she snarled. “I’m not going to fall in line because you ask.”

“Nor would I expect it,” Merlin agreed. “Arthur’s lifting the ban on magic. People like us will be free in Camelot. I thought that would be a world you’d want to see.”

“That doesn’t make everything better. That doesn’t change what was done to me,” Morgana snapped.

“No, and I’m sorry. We can’t change the past, but you deserve to be a part of the future. You hurt people when you took over Camelot, but that’s not who you are, Morgana. Given the chance, don’t you want to do some good?”

Merlin’s eyes were so wide and shiny that Morgana had to look away.

“I’ve seen how you do good, Merlin,” she said. “How you poison your friends for people who would have you hanged.”

“I was desperate,” Merlin said. “So were you when you betrayed everyone you know. We don’t have to hide anymore, Morgana. We don’t have to make those kinds of choices again.”

For just a moment, Morgana tried to imagine what her life could have been like if Uther had not banned magic. Would she have been excited to discover the magic that sparked within her?

She only remembered the terror. First of the dreams she did not understand. Then the fire she could not control. And of course the constant threat of betrayal. It only took one word, one suspicion, to find Uther’s ear, and then her life would have been forfeit.

What she had done by taking Camelot was a preemptive strike. Any strategist could appreciate that.

She didn’t deserve the terror that surrounded her, and so she’d inflicted that fear on the people who would see her burned. It was only fair. She was simply smarter, more powerful.

At least she’d thought so, but here was Merlin. He had all the power in the world at his fingertips, and yet he sat in a cell next to her.

What was his play?

“I don’t trust you,” Morgana said.

“I know,” Merlin said. “But what do you have to lose at this point?”

Tears sprang to Morgana’s eyes, and she turned away before Merlin could see. He probably knew anyway, and what did she care really?

Her father was dead, her mother dead, her sister dead. Her half brother imprisoned her. Gwen hated her. Her allies decimated.

She was entirely alone in the world, but she would not submit herself to those who had taken everything from her. Not even for a scrap of what she’d once had.

…

Over the next three days, Merlin tried to persuade her, and Morgana ignored him. Once a day, Gwaine escorted Merlin upstairs, and each time, Morgana thought this would be the time he would not return, but he always did.

Arthur had agreed to Merlin’s plan, but apparently he wasn’t letting Merlin get out of work.

Or at least that was how Merlin framed it when he returned to his cell. Instead of waiting for Morgana to pry information out of him, he readily volunteered how Arthur was working to bring magic back to Camelot. This apparently meant more technical work than either of them had anticipated, but according to Merlin, they were making progress.

Morgana did her best to maintain her vow of silence, but it wasn’t easy.

Morgause had trained her in the ways of the Old Religion, of which Merlin clearly understood little. Objectively, she recognized that he was a peasant raised in Ealdor, so prophesied sorcerer or not, she could not actually blame him for his lack of education, but she still did. If he was the great Emrys, could he not have bothered to do some research?

“We’re consulting with the Druids,” Merlin said when Morgana could not stop herself from making this point.

“All of them?”

“Whoever will meet with us.”

“That’s not the entire magical community,” Morgana said.

“I know,” Merlin admitted. “We’re working on that. You know, it would be helpful to have the input of a High Priestess.”

Morgana chose to return to her vow of silence.

The next day, Merlin left with Gwaine, but after only half an hour, the door opened once more. Morgana sat up to better glare at Merlin when he returned, but he was not the one to walk through the door.

It was Arthur.

Morgana rose to her feet but stayed at the back of her cell as she carefully watched Arthur approach the prison bars. He wore his more casual clothing — no chain mail, no sword, and he’d even shut the door behind him.

Her heart beat loudly in her ears. She’d not been alone with Arthur since she’d first taken Camelot. Since he’d learned of her magic. Since he’d learned they were siblings.

“Morgana,” he greeted, and he sounded just as uncomfortable as she felt. There were some perks to knowing him so well, but of course, he knew her, too.

“Arthur.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I hope you’ve found the food and amenities to your liking. If there’s anything you lack, please let me know.”

He sounded so sincere, and Morgana hated him for it.

“My rightful crown,” she snarled.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Do you even care about it? Or did you just want respect because you were denied acceptance?”

Morgana’s lips parted in shock. She’d never thought of Arthur as particularly insightful, but of course, he’d always held an odd wisdom at times. Also, she hadn’t been a part of his life for years. Perhaps he had changed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s not why I came down here.”

“Then why are you here? You’ve certainly had plenty to say to Merlin.”

“Morgana, I’ve wanted to come down here the moment you woke, but I don’t know what to say,” he said, and there was the exasperation she always seemed to ignite in him. “I’ve never wanted us to be enemies, and I wish you would have given me the chance to prove that. Did you really think I’d kill you for your magic?”

“You’ve certainly tried your best,” Morgana snapped.

“I’ve fought back against the enemy that’s been trying to terrorize my people,” Arthur exclaimed. “As a king must. But as your friend — as your brother — I never wanted this.”

“Oddly enough, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Morgana said, thinking of how Merlin echoed the same sentiment.

He hadn’t wanted to poison her, but he did just the same. She would not forgive them for hurting her just because they felt bad about it.

“And I suppose I can’t blame you for that,” Arthur acknowledged. “But I’m trying to change things. I don’t want people to grow up in fear for who they are.”

“Even if they have magic?”

“Even if they have magic. I’m sorry you were alone. I’m sorry you felt you had to resort to this.”

“It’s funny how you say this now when I’m at your mercy,” Morgana snarled.

“You never gave me the chance to say it before,” Arthur said. “Morgana, I learned you were my sister and a witch in the same moment I learned you had betrayed Camelot. It’s my duty to protect the people. Once I had done that, you were gone.”

“And if I had stayed?”

Arthur gestured to prison around them.

“I suppose we’re both learning what we’re going to do,” he said.

Morgana narrowed her eyes, and she tried to read any deception in his face, but Arthur had always been annoyingly honest.

“I actually came down here for a reason,” Arthur admitted. “Merlin has informed me that he does not actually represent all magic users. In fact, he doesn’t seem very educated in the culture at all, which I suppose I can’t blame him for, but is rather inconvenient. He has told me I need to consult with the Druids— and with you.”

“Me?” Morgana startled.

Arthur nodded. “He says you are a High Priestess of the Old Religion and apparently that’s different from whatever he is and what the Druids are. If you would be willing, I seek understanding so that I may better rewrite the laws.”

“To hunt us down more effectively?”

Arthur sighed, clearly exasperated once more. “Obviously not, Morgana. I am seeking respect for everyone. Including the High Priestesses of the Old Religion, but I need to understand what they are in order to do so.”

Morgana’s heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to snarl and hold to her anger, but she remembered something Morgause told her. That she was meant to return the ways of the Old Religion to the land. That Morgana would ensure she was not the last High Priestess after all.

They’d both assumed that meant she would rule over Camelot and bring it back by force.

But if Arthur was serious, perhaps this was how she ensured the future of the High Priestesses.

“I need to think,” she said.

Arthur pressed his lips together, and he nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “I will be back tomorrow if that would be acceptable to you.”

“It is,” she acknowledged.

Arthur started to leave, but he hesitated at the door. “For what it’s worth,” he said. “I’m glad you’re my sister. Despite everything.”

He left, and the moment the door shut behind him, Morgana started crying.

…

The next day, Arthur came down to the dungeon in a thin white tunic, breaches, and messy hair. He carried a stack of papers that he precariously balanced with three quills and pots of ink.

“You’re bringing work to me now?” Merlin complained.

For all his whining, he actually looked quite pleased, and Morgana did not know how to interpret this harried version of Arthur. She felt as if they were still more enemies than friends after their last conversation, but Arthur dragged a chair to their cells as if this was an ordinary council meeting.

“Yes, well, there’s a lot of work to do, and you’ve had enough time off,” Arthur said.

“I’ve been imprisoned,” Merlin exclaimed.

“By choice,” Arthur reminded him, and then he slid a stack of the papers through his prison bars. “This is my speech to announce the return of magic. I’m sure I’ll be making several, and each one needs to be perfect.”

“Fine,” Merlin agreed, and he took the speech, a quill, and a pot of ink to the corner of his cell. He settled in with the stack of parchment propped on his knees and the quill poised to make edits.

Arthur turned his attention to Morgana, and she truly had no idea what he was going to say next.

“Now you and I need to discuss law,” he said. “Merlin is hopelessly ignorant of his own culture, so I’m hoping you’ve learned some things during your time away. Naturally some aspects of magic will still be outlawed — the murdering kind in particular. Also, I’m drawing a firm line against love potions and love spells, and I’m not budging on that one.”

Morgana suddenly remembered Uther’s look of adoration as he gazed at a troll, and she felt the odd urge to both laugh and cry.

“I don’t disagree about the love potions,” she said. “But I haven’t agreed to any of this. You don’t get to scoop me in as one of your allies just because you want it.”

Arthur winced, and to be fair, he did look genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, I did this in all the wrong order,” he said.

He flipped through his collection of paper and pulled out a small stack. He slid them through Morgana’s prison bars, and she couldn’t deny her own curiosity, so she took them.

“It’s a treaty,” Arthur said. “Or I hope it will be. I thought you started a war, Morgana, but I recognize now that my father did. Our father did. I wish you would have come to me first, but I am beginning to understand why you did what you did. I was hoping we could come to peace. As brother and sister. As friends. But also as High Priestess and king.”

Tears sprang to Morgana’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. For a moment she could only clutch the paper.

“It’s mostly blank,” she said when she could trust her voice.

“I was hoping you’d write your terms,” Arthur said, and he slid a quill and ink pot through the bars. “I cannot guarantee that they will all be accepted, but we need to start somewhere.”

Morgana met Arthur’s eyes through the prison bars, and damn her, but she knew this man, and she could see the sincerity shining in his eyes. She’d hated Uther, and she’d hated Arthur for his ignorance, his position, his blind loyalty, but she’d purposefully ignored what she’d loved about him, too. What she still loved about him.

Tentatively, Morgana stretched her hand through the bars. Immediately, Arthur smiled and took it.

“I’ll make it up to you, Morgana,” he said.

“We’ll see,” she said, but she smiled in turn.

…

Arthur was eventually pulled away by his duties, but he left the parchment and ink, so Morgana could continue drafting her terms, and Merlin could keep working on his speech.

“Prat,” Merlin muttered to the closed door, but there was fondness in his voice.

There was a part of Morgana that still wanted to ignore Merlin. Anger filled her all over again every time she remembered how he’d poisoned her, how he’d possessed magic and yet left her to her own devices, how he’d chosen Arthur over her.

But then she looked down to the treaty in her hands, and she imagined the world they could create.

It wouldn’t make up for what she suffered. They couldn’t return what had been stolen from her.

But she could make sure no child ever grew up the way she did.

She filled two full pages with terms. She almost left it there, but then she spent another page describing the role that the High Priestess used to play in the court. Even if they never let her leave this dungeon, maybe someone would continue the line after her.

Her gaze drifted over to Merlin.

“Do you trust me?”

Merlin met her eyes with surprise. He considered for a moment and eventually said, “I want to.”

Morgana nodded.

“Do you trust me?” Merlin returned.

She immediately thought back to his strained smile when he gave her the poisoned water. She wanted to snarl no to see his face fall, but he’d given her honesty. She ought to return the favor.

“I think I may want to.”

Merlin smiled, a little sadly. “That seems like a start,” he said.

…

The next day, Gwaine escorted Merlin out of the dungeon, and Morgana was once again alone.

She tried not to let that bother her.

She had become quite comfortable with her own company over the past few years, and perhaps she’d gotten used to Merlin’s near constant presence, but that didn’t mean she missed him. It certainly didn’t mean she missed Arthur after he only visited twice.

Besides this gave her peace and quiet to work on the treaty.

Then the door opened, and Morgana’s stomach flipped with hope and trepidation. When Gwen stepped into the dungeon, Morgana didn’t know what emotion to land on.

“Merlin’s not here,” Morgana greeted evenly.

“I know,” Gwen said. “I brought food.”

She carried a basket, which she slid through the bars of Morgana’s cell. Morgana expected her to leave then since she could not chat with Merlin as she normally did, but instead, Gwen sat down in front of her.

“I’ve heard you’re working on terms for a treaty,” she said.

Morgana glanced at the stack of parchment beside her. “Yes,” she said.

“I’m glad,” Gwen said. Then her gaze fell down to where her hands were folded in her lap. “I’ve missed you.”

Morgana’s throat thickened, and she blinked rapidly to keep from crying. She hated this crevice between them. She missed Gwen, and she missed the easy friendship that used to feel as simple as breathing. She wondered what friendship would look like between them now — not as lady and servant, but as sorceress and lady.

Maybe there had been a time when Morgana had hated the idea of Gwen on the throne that was meant for her, but perhaps what she had hated was knowing how her friends’ lives had improved without her. Meanwhile, she’d been alone and bitter in a hovel in the woods.

“What are you at court now?” Morgana asked instead of giving voice to any of her other thoughts.

Gwen looked a little disappointed, but she answered readily enough. “It’s difficult to say,” she admitted. “We’ve all been making repairs and then preparing for the law changes, so we haven’t worked out exactly what I am. Not quite a servant, not quite a noble. Maybe I’ll become a knight like Isolde.”

When Gwen giggled, Morgana wanted to smile with her.

She thought about asking about her relationship with Arthur, but she didn’t want Gwen to end the conversation early. Morgana didn’t want to admit it to herself, but it was nice. Talking with Gwen like this. Simple.

“I used to wish you were a noble,” Morgana admitted. “But selfishly, I knew we spent more time together because you were a servant.”

Gwen’s face softened. “I know,” she said. “I never wanted to give up being your servant.”

Morgana took a deep breath, and she let some of the tears well in her eyes. “I’m happy for you,” she said.

Gwen offered her hand through the bars, and Morgana took it. There was something so familiar and comfortable about Gwen’s touch, and she fought the urge to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry you felt so alone. That I couldn’t do more for you when you were here,” Gwen said.

“There was nothing you could have done. You did keep my secret,” Morgana acknowledged.

Gwen had not known the extent of Morgana’s powers, but she’d seen the evidence and kept quiet. Perhaps things could have been different if Morgana had trusted her more. Maybe this was how Merlin felt, and wasn’t that a terrible thought.

“Things are changing now,” Gwen said. “No one will go through what you did ever again.”

Every time Merlin and Arthur had echoed a similar sentiment, Morgana had found comfort in those words, but now something bothered her. Yes, she wanted to make sure no young magic user grew up hating and fearing themselves, but her life wasn’t over yet. She was in this dungeon, and others held her fate in their hands, but she wasn’t quite ready to give up. Didn’t she deserve better than that?

Yes, she had hurt people. She acknowledged that. Maybe even people who had not deserved it. She’d even taken joy in their pain.

But it wasn’t as if Uther hadn’t done the same. Or that Arthur and Merlin hadn’t made mistakes.

She hadn’t really let herself consider what her future held, especially when she was certain the pyre was her only fate. But now, here with Gwen, she wanted more than a noble sacrifice.

There was a noise from just outside the dungeon, and suddenly, Gwaine was bursting through the door, his face flushed and his hair in disarray. His eyes immediately landed on Gwen.

“Merlin’s hurt. We need your help,” he exclaimed, and he was already turning to leave.

“Hurt? What happened?” Gwen asked, rising to her feet.

“I was supposed to protect him, and I—” Gwaine swallowed. “I failed him. He’d already used a lot of magic, and then this mob attacked him, and he didn’t want to hurt them. He’s— he’s not waking up. Even Gaius doesn’t know what to do.”

Gwen’s hands flew to her mouth, and she moved to follow Gwaine.

Morgana wasn’t sure what led her to speak up. She should have been thrilled to hear of Merlin’s impending death, and yet she couldn’t deny how her heart hammered in her chest.

“Wait,” she called out, and Gwaine and Gwen stopped. “I can help him.”

…

Morgana supposed she should not have been surprised when Gwaine and Gwen did not immediately release her from her cell. Instead, they told her they would need to talk to Arthur.

Well, Gwen had assured her they’d talk to Arthur. Gwaine had only glared at her.

Once they left, Morgana paced up and down her cell like a caged animal, but she could not bear to sit still. Frantic energy buzzed just beneath her skin, and she desperately wanted to use her magic, but of course, that was not an option available to her.

Did she really care so much if Merlin died?

There was a part of her that had vindictively yearned for his death since the moment she realized he’d poisoned her. That part of her had grown with each occasion he had ruined her plans or somehow miraculously survived what should have been a fatal trap.

But now, he was a sorcerer. More than that, he was Emrys.

Perhaps Emrys didn’t mean to her what it meant to the Druids, but he was still a creature of magic. Not quite like her, but perhaps the closest she could find.

Besides, and she wasn’t proud of this, but she would be furious if some random mob managed to kill Emrys after she’d failed so many times. She was not comfortable with Merlin or Emrys being removed from the playing board without her hand in it at all.

There was also her own future to think about.

Morgana clenched and unclenched her fists as she paced.

She wasn’t ready for her part in the story to end. It actually wasn’t enough for her to make sure no one grew up the way she did ever again. Maybe she didn’t know exactly how she wanted the rest of her life to go, but she did not want her path to end in this dungeon.

And damn her, maybe she was starting to believe in Arthur and the kingdom he was trying to create. Maybe she wanted to create it with him.

If that meant saving Merlin’s life, well then she would just have to do it.

Finally, after an eternity, the door opened once more, but instead of Gwen, Tristan, Isolde, Gwaine, and Percival entered.

“Is he alive?” Morgana asked.

“Yes,” Gwaine said. “But he still won’t wake up. Gaius doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him, but he says a High Priestess might know.”

Morgana held her head high. “Perhaps,” she said.

“Arthur has agreed to let you see him but only with the promise that you will help him and you will do no harm to anyone,” Gwaine said.

“I agree.”

Gwaine’s hand hovered at the hilt of his sword. “We are your escort, and I suppose I don’t have to tell you what we’ll do if you dare try to harm anyone. None of us are going to hesitate,” he warned.

Morgana’s eyes flickered from Gwaine to Percival to Isolde to Tristan. She could see they were all armed and battle-ready, and she had no doubt they would strike the moment she moved out of line.

“I understand,” she said.

Gwaine nodded, and then he unlocked her cell.

She half expected them to lock her in manacles, but since she was going to heal Merlin, they probably recognized the futility in it. Instead, they escorted her out of the dungeon with Tristan and Isolde on each side, Gwaine in front, and Percival close behind.

They crossed the threshold of the dungeon, and Morgana tripped, nearly fell. Her magic returned to her with a rush of wind, and she could not help but smile as she felt the power at her fingertips once more.

She wanted to do something, anything, just to feel the joy of her magic, but she recognized they’d kill her as soon as she started speaking.

For just a moment she considered risking it.

She could probably take the four knights. With a single spell, she’d send them flying, and if the impact didn’t kill them, it would at least stun them. Could she escape Camelot before anyone caught her?

Maybe, but she’d probably have to cause more bloodshed.

And then what?

She’d return to her hovel in the woods. Back in Camelot, Merlin would die. Maybe Arthur would continue to bring magic back to the kingdom, but he’d have to do so without any magic users on his side.

And Morgana would still be alone in the woods.

No.

Whatever happened next, she wanted to be a part of this story. Maybe she was not meant to be queen of Camelot, but that didn’t mean she didn’t belong here.

So Morgana regained her footing, and she followed Gwaine up the stairs. She caught Isolde’s eyes as they walked, and she had no doubt that she had guessed at some of Morgana’s thoughts. Morgana nodded, and Isolde nodded in return, and apparently that was enough.

Morgana left the dungeons.

…

To her surprise, they did not go to Gaius’s chambers but instead to Arthur’s.

They passed a few servants and guards, and they cast Morgana varying looks of suspicion, curiosity, and even fear, but otherwise, no one bothered them. At Arthur’s door, Gwaine went inside first, and after a moment, he gestured for Morgana and her entourage to follow.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but not this.

Arthur was sitting on his bed, and Merlin’s head was in his lap. The sorcerer’s body was too still, too stiff on the bed of the king, and he looked oddly vulnerable in socks with no boots.

Gwen hovered nearby with a pitcher of water and a cloth, and Gaius sat at the table. He flipped through a book, but he didn’t seem hopeful. His face appeared haggard and pale, and Morgana felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt.

When Arthur’s gaze met Morgana’s, his eyes shined with tears he would not let fall.

“Can you help him?”

Morgana approached the bed, and Merlin looked even worse up close. His breathing was labored yet shallow, and his face already had a corpse-like sheen. Both eyes were bruised and swollen, and there was a bandage around his temple.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “What happened?”

Arthur winced. “It was my fault,” he said. “I asked him to use his magic to repair the castle and the lower town. I thought it would be good for the people to see the good that magic can do. I should have waited until after the speeches and the repeal. Or sent more guards with him.”

“So he used a lot of magic. Then what?” Morgana prompted, not unkindly, before Arthur could spiral further. It was a little disturbing how quickly she could fall back into this role, but she had known Arthur — and comforted him — for many years.

“When he was returning from the lower town, he was attacked by a mob of people. Some from the lower town but also nobles and even knights.” Arthur’s voice broke on the last word as if he took personal responsibility for any of his knights turning on Merlin. “Gwaine tried to protect him, but there were too many, and the idiot didn’t want to hurt anyone. He used his magic to take away all their weapons, but they kept coming, and—”

“He took a blow to the head,” Gwaine finished. His voice was deceptively calm for the fire in his eyes. “He hasn’t woken since.”

Morgana nodded, a theory already taking form. Merlin never complained, but for their entire time together in the dungeon, she had noticed the awkward way he’d moved his body. How much he’d slept and how he’d rarely stood.

Arthur was right. He was an idiot.

“May I?” Morgana asked, gesturing toward Merlin.

Everything in Arthur clearly protested having anyone near Merlin, but Morgana suspected that had more to do with Arthur’s instincts than her specifically. He nodded.

Morgana took Merlin’s hand in her own, and tentatively, she let her magic reach for his.

Immediately, she marveled that she had never realized before. She’d barely started before his magic rushed toward her, golden and warm and deep like an ocean. Morgause’s magic had felt like the wind to her — powerful and wild but dedicated to a target — but Merlin’s felt like the night sky. Endless, unfathomable.

And deeply wounded.

“He never let himself heal,” she said.

“He was hurt?” Arthur said.

Morgana shook her head. “He used a lot of magic against Helios’s army,” Morgana said. Not that she’d seen it, but she could only imagine the amount of magic it had taken to pull off such a feat. “And he clearly didn’t know what to do in the aftermath. Then he used a lot of magic for the repairs and then to disarm the people. His magic is too exhausted to heal him right now.”

“Does he just need time?” Arthur prompted.

“His head wound is serious,” Gaius said from the table. “He doesn’t have much time.”

“Can you heal him with your magic?” Arthur asked Morgana.

Morgana certainly knew some healing magic, and she could try. However, she was still holding Merlin’s hand, and she could feel how his magic shimmered and flinched, a wounded animal. Even if she healed him of his physical wound, he may not wake up. Emrys was magic after all, and his magic was hurt.

“I can ease his pain, but that won’t be enough,” she said. “But there is a place where the High Priestesses would go after a great battle. It reconnected them with their magic. I think that’s what Merlin needs. He clearly never learned how to care for his magic.”

“How could he have?” Arthur said, but he seemed to be talking to himself.

“Where is this place?” Gwen asked.

“It’s called the Crystal Cave. It’s about a day’s ride from here,” Morgana said.

Arthur took a deep breath, and then he looked to Gwaine. “We’re leaving in two hours. Ready the horses and gather Leon, Percival, and Elyan. Tristan, Isolde, I’d like you to come as well. Gwen, I hate to ask, but would you?”

“Oh I’m coming, too,” Gwen said, and Arthur smiled.

Then Arthur turned to Morgana. “I understand there is still much for us to discuss. I will not force you, but I would be incredibly appreciative if you would guide us to the Crystal Cave.”

Morgana didn’t expect to be asked, but she appreciated the courtesy. She felt all too aware of her precarious position, but when she met Arthur’s eyes, she couldn’t deny that she felt safe with him. Despite everything, she trusted him to do the right thing.

“I’ll heal him the best I can now, and I will lead you to the cave. After that, we will discuss that treaty,” she decided.

Arthur smiled and nodded.

…

True to Arthur’s word, they set off two hours later.

Gwaine rode with Merlin, holding his limp body in front of him, while Percival led Gwaine’s horse with a lead line. There had been discussion over whether to bring a cart, but Arthur had decided that would slow them down too much. Besides Gwaine still blamed himself, and he clearly took to the task of protecting Merlin while he was so vulnerable.

Morgana rode beside Arthur since she was leading the way. She had expected Tristan and Isolde, her ever-present guards, to ride near her, but instead, Gwen rode on her other side.

It seemed that Arthur had decided to put his full trust into Morgana, and Morgana didn’t know whether to be pleased, offended, or exasperated by her half brother.

It was disturbing her how she related more and more to Merlin.

Especially when she was trying to ignore his pale form in Gwaine’s arms.

He had looked a little better after Morgana had healed his head wound, but the deeper hurt was his magic. She only hoped the Crystal Cave would work. She’d studied dutifully under Morgause, but there had been a lot to learn, and they’d primarily focused on developing her own magic. She hadn’t learned nearly as much of her culture and history as she would have liked.

She wanted to blame Merlin for taking Morgause away from her, and part of her still did, but she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t understand why. Morgause had told her that she’d once believed Arthur would come to their side, but she’d lost faith in him. Morgana wondered if Morgause would still be here if they had trusted Arthur a little more.

It was pointless to dwell on the past. They could only move forward now.

“Have you been to this cave before?” Gwen asked.

“Once,” Morgana admitted. “I didn’t like it.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“The crystals reveal the future for those trained. Morgause thought I could use them since I’m a Seer, but they reminded me too much of my nightmares. I became sick, and I begged her to leave.”

Morgana liked her magic. Once she learned control, she found joy in the power at her fingertips. However, she’d never found comfort in her prophetic abilities. Morgause had assured her that they could be a gift as well as her magic, but every time Morgana had tried, she’d only caught glimpses of a dark future she didn’t understand. Eventually, Morgause had relented and focused on her other magic talents.

“It’s brave of you to return,” Gwen said.

“I don’t plan to look in any crystals,” Morgana said. “It’s also the birthplace of magic or so the legends say. Once we take Merlin there, magic should take care of the rest.”

At least she hoped so. Morgause had not taught her the specifics of these rituals.

They took a few short breaks to eat and water the horses, but no one wanted to waste much time when Merlin was looking worse with each passing hour.

Finally, they reached their destination.

“This is it,” Morgana said, a little necessarily considering they could all see the cave now, or at least the cleft stone.

“What do we need to do now?” Arthur asked.

“We’ll need to take him inside,” Morgana said. “To the heart of the cave.”

Arthur gave the appropriate orders, and all their horses were tied to the trees. Percival took charge of Merlin’s body, and the other knights formed a protective huddle behind them. Morgana led the way into the cave with Arthur and Gwen at her side.

She should have expected the nausea that immediately swept through her once she stepped into the cave, but the lurch of her stomach still surprised her. It had been a long time ago, yet she still remembered the disorienting jumble of images and the sense of foreboding doom. Still, she pushed ahead.

She did not know where her actions would take her, but she had not come this far to let Merlin die now.

She guided them through the twists and turns of the cave, and while she could hear the others reacting to the crystals starting to appear, she kept her gaze resolutely ahead.

Of course, that could only work for so long. They reached the center of the cave, and there was nowhere she could look without seeing the shimmering shards of the crystals. Instead, she focused on Merlin, and she gestured for Percival to lay him on the ground.

The large knight was gentle, particularly with Merlin’s head, and then he stepped back.

Morgana kneeled at Merlin’s side, and she took his hand in hers. Once more, she could feel the depths of his magic, ebbing and flowing like the sea, and she gently reached out to it.

The magic was wary but curious, and at Morgana’s gentle coaxing, it reached out enough to sense the magic of the crystals. Morgana inhaled sharply as she felt all the powers meet, and part of her wanted to flinch away at such great forces at work, but she resolved herself to continue. She felt the ancient magic of the Crystal Cave greet and then soothe the magic within Merlin.

Morgana?

Morgana looked up sharply before she realized the voice was in her head.

Hello, Merlin.

What’s happening?

You overextended your magic because you weren’t properly trained. I’m helping you.

Thank you.

Morgana was a little annoyed that Merlin was so sincere. Also, she wished he was waking up in a more physical way, but she could tell this was going to take some time.

Focus on healing. I will watch over you.

To Arthur, she said, “This will take some time. You might as well set up camp.”

Arthur nodded, and he told the knights to make camp outside the cave, which the knights were all too happy to do. Even to those without magic, the cave had an intense presence. Then Arthur sat down on a stone across from Morgana, so he had a good view of them both.

Gwen hesitated, but she told them that she’d go help the knights and bring them food later.

“Do you not trust me with your precious servant?” Morgana said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“I obviously do,” Arthur said. “But you have bad memories of this place. I don’t want to leave you alone either.”

Morgana’s mouth parted in surprise, and she pressed her lips together to keep from saying something she’d regret. She recognized that Arthur was showing her trust, far beyond what she probably deserved, but she hadn’t expected to actually care for her. Not anymore.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I never wanted us to be enemies, Morgana.”

Yes, Morgana could recognize that now.

“So what are we then?”

“Half siblings?” Arthur suggested. “I hope we can become allies.”

Morgana smiled softly. “I think I’d like that, too.”

…

Gwen brought them both some stew, and the three of them ate dinner together. It was a little odd, especially with Merlin’s unconscious body between them, but there was also a familiarity.

Morgana had spent so many hours in comfortable silence with Gwen, and there had been a time when she had considered her to be her closest friend in the world. And even before they had learned she and Arthur were siblings, there had been a familial affection between them.

“What exactly is happening?” Gwen asked, gesturing toward Merlin.

Color had returned to his cheeks, and he appeared more asleep than unconscious. At some point, the lines of pain and stress had disappeared from his face, and he seemed almost peaceful.

“Magic grows tired just as muscles do. The magic of the cave is restoring his own. He could have simply rested or meditated or taken a potion, but he didn’t seem to know to do any of that,” Morgana explained.

“Idiot,” Arthur muttered.

“We’ll just have to make sure he knows what to do for next time,” Gwen said. Then she glared at Arthur and added pointedly, “Or make sure he doesn’t use too much magic all at once.”

“How was I supposed to know how much magic is too much?” Arthur complained.

Gwen exchanged an exasperated glance with Morgana, and it was so much like old times that tears sprang to her eyes. Gwen’s expression softened.

”Well, it seems like we have a lot of learning to do,” Gwen said. “If only we had someone informed about such things.”

“I don’t know as much as I’d like,” Morgana admitted.

“Neither do Gaius and Merlin,” Arthur supplied.

“Maybe with all three of you, we’ll start to get somewhere,” Gwen suggested.

Before Morgana could think of a response, a small groan brought all their attention to Merlin. His eyes fluttered open, and he reached for his head.

“Wha—?” Merlin started, but he didn’t seem to know how to finish.

He focused on Morgana first, and then his gaze slid to Arthur and then Gwen and finally the crystals all around them.

“What’s happening?”

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur answered.

“You were attacked, and you weren’t waking up. Morgana healed you and told us to take you here,” Gwen corrected.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted to Morgana for clarification.

“We’re in the Crystal Cave,” she said, and there was an odd satisfaction when Merlin winced. At least she wasn’t the only one to not like the place very much. “It’s the birthplace of magic, and your magic desperately needed to heal.”

Merlin closed his eyes as Morgana suspected he was feeling out his own magic. He clearly realized the difference, for his gaze was full of gratitude when he looked to Morgana again.

“Thank you,” he said. “For all of it.”

“Well, it would have been embarrassing for all of us if the downfall of Emrys was a village mob,” she said.

“Fair enough,” he admitted, and he tentatively sat up. “Can we leave now? I don’t really want to look in any of these crystals.”

He was still physically weak, so Arthur helped him walk out of the cave, and Gwen followed after them.

Morgana started to follow as well, but a glimmer caught her eye, and she found herself drawn to one of the crystals. Of course, she knew what was happening, and she knew what awaited her if she chose to look closer.

Part of her wanted to race after the others, but honestly, she was a little tired of being afraid.

So she approached the crystal, and she looked.

…

They decided to sleep a healthy distance from the cave for the night, and they would all make the trip back to Camelot the next morning.

Morgana felt a little strange as the others performed the ordinary tasks of preparing for sleep.

The knights had embraced Merlin, and they teased and poked at him around the campfire. Arthur, relaxed for the first time since this ordeal had started, contentedly sat on his bedroll and smiled indulgently at the antics of his men.

Morgana sat on her bedroll as well, but she’d planted hers farthest from the campfire. She watched the flames and listened to the chatter of familiar voices, and she was so distracted that she did not immediately notice when Gwen sat down next to her.

“You looked, didn’t you?” Gwen asked.

Morgana nodded.

“Was it so terrible?”

Morgana met her eyes and shook her head. “It wasn’t actually,” she said. “I think— I think there might be hope yet. For all of us.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows in a clear question.

“You’ll make a lovely queen for one,” Morgana said, and Gwen immediately flushed bright red.

“Morgana,” she exclaimed.

Morgana giggled. How could she have ever been threatened by this wonderful woman on the throne of Camelot? Arthur and the kingdom both were lucky to have her.

“And where are you?” Gwen prompted.

“At your side,” Morgana said softly. “Sometimes anyway. Sometimes I’m traveling. I didn’t look for long, but I think I’m happy. I think we all are.”

Gwen took Morgana’s hand and squeezed.

…

The next morning, Morgana was the first to wake. Or at least she thought so before she met Arthur’s eyes across the dying campfire.

When he realized she was awake, he made a gesture, and Morgana followed him deeper into the woods.

“Thank you for what you did. I know you didn’t have a lot of reason to trust me,” Arthur said.

“I think I had every reason actually.”

“Either way, I’m grateful,” he said. Then he sighed deeply, and he took Morgana’s hands in his. “And I want you to know that if you leave now, I won’t stop you.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “You want me to leave?”

“Well, no,” Arthur said. “I want you to return with us, and I want your help creating a kingdom where magic is welcome. But I understand if that’s not what you want. You have the freedom to choose.”

For just a moment, Morgana considered it. She could leave now, and without her drive for revenge, she could pursue whatever sort of life she wanted. She could live on the Isle of the Blessed and single-handedly carry out the traditions of the Old Religion. She could move to a different kingdom that didn’t know her name.

But that wasn’t what she really wanted. And that wasn’t what she’d seen in the crystal.

“Camelot is my home,” she said. “And you’re my family. And I want to help build this kingdom.”

Her part in the story was not over yet.