Merlin and Morgana were connected.

They were two shades of each other.

She was the space between the coin.

Merlin and Arthur may have been two halves of the same whole, but, Morgana, she was half of the same side.

She was everything he could have been, and he was everything she had the chance to be.

They were the same person, but polar opposites.

He was filled with love, she with hate.

She was ignorant, he was wise.

He was the Light, she the Dark.

How strange it was, for them to feel so connected, while they were so completely and utterly different.

It took some time, but they began to understand.

And as they made love on the forest floor all those times, they felt complete. Not whole. Because they were just one side of a coin. Together.

They could see themselves becoming each other as the years went on, could feel their essences merging with one another.

Ten years down the line, when the wars were long since fought and the battles long since won- and lost- neither Merlin nor Morgana could return to the sides that they once belonged to.

And so they became the shades of gray. They turned into the place where the lines blurred.

They fled from Camelot, from most civilization, frankly.

The pair built a shack in the woods, neither extravagant nor homely. They lived with two dragons and a few sidhe.

There was some teamwork, some rest, and some play, and a lot of screaming.

The years kept coming, and after twenty years of never aging a day, they got the hint.

They soon became it, and people started to come to seek council, or to look for wishes, or prophecies, or blessings, or power.

Most got turned away.

But if you pled your case in just the right way, in such a sense that both parts of Ei were pleased, that you were worthy, you got what you came for, even if it didn't seem so.

Everyone always got something.

Eventually everyone passed, and their graves were the small lake just a small ways from their cottage that they named Fywyd, ironically.

It was a discrepant existence.

Paradoxical.

Disgustingly beautiful.

Terrifyingly wonderful.

Intoxicatingly farouche.

Painfully pleasing.

Bitterly glacé.

But it suited Ei it supposed.

Over the river,

And through the wood,

Deep in the heart of fam Ddaear

Is where Ei lives.

.

If it strikes them,

They'll grant you what you wish,

Deep in the pools of Fywyd.