Despite his promise to Morgan, Merlin had no idea on how to prove to the woman legends could be rewritten. He lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling as thoughts tumbled around in his brain. Morgana was alive once again, but Merlin had no hint of Arthur – and he had been looking. Arthur was the once and future king. Surely if Morgana was reincarnated, Arthur would be too?

Or maybe it was only Morgana who was alive right now. But why would that be?

Merlin threw his arm over his eyes and let out a soft groan. After centuries, he should be used to solving problems of magic. Why was this particular problem such a difficult one?

Morgan's face flashed in front of his eyes. The difficulty of the problem was because of Morgana. He might have loved her once, had things turned out differently. And he could see the Morgana he could have loved in Morgan. If Morgana had grown up in this age, he could see her being just like Morgan. Driven, independent, passionate. Only her time had been holding her back. Morgan didn't have that restriction. It was what he loved about her.

Merlin sat up as the thought occurred to him. Love? How was that even possible? He had only known the woman for three-quarters of a year! But had he not loved Morgana? And Morgan was Morgana. The Morgana that could have been.

Resting his hands on his lap, Merlin stared into the darkness of the night. He would have to make sure that the legend would change. He didn't know how, exactly, but he'd blunder through. Morgana deserved that chance.

Morgan, too, had a restless night. It could have easily been accounted for by the three cups of coffee she had drank since dinner, trying to get into a creative mindset. But Morgan often drank coffee late into the evening, and it rarely affected her sleeping. No, her mind was churning over something more.

"I think I may be insane." Her cat looked up at her from his position sprawled across the foot of her bed. "And not the fairly normal way of talking to cats insane."

With a sigh, Morgan turned out her bedside lamp. Earlier today, in the office, she could have sworn she had felt a draft. Her mind being more occupied with other things, she had not focused on it then, but she had later searched for the source only to find none. If it had been a one-off thing, Morgan might not even have thought any more about it. But it wasn't the first time something like that had happened.

Odd things had been happening often around her lately. A dropped cup of coffee that didn't spill a bit. Strange breezes. Candles being lit when she was certain she had snuffed them out before bed. (She had gotten rid of all her candles the second time it had happened, and bought a wax warmer and wax melts instead. Much safer.) And that was only the start.

It was no wonder Morgan felt as if she was going crazy. All these strange things didn't fit into her perfectly polished, organized life. She had always had odd dreams, ever since she was little. Those were rather normal, easily controlled things. The rest of it... Her sister had joked that she was being followed by a ghost. Morgan didn't believe in ghosts, and neither did her sister. She had learned quickly not to bring up her current worries with her sister.

Yet, for all the Morgan felt like she might be insane, a part of her questioned it. Because, if she was insane, would she still think she was insane? Or would things seem normal?

Not able to turn her mind from those thoughts, and unable to use the time awake for something productive, Morgan tossed and turned for the most of the night.

"Mr. Dragune, please sit down."

Melin sat, looking at the older-appearing man before him. He looked to be in his early fifties, his blond hair slicked back with oil. His grey suit was neatly pressed, the handkerchief in his pocket matching the dark gold of his tie and shirt. The office was as put together as the rest of him, nothing out of place – except Merlin himself.

He hadn't been expecting this meeting, otherwise he would have made an attempt to dress better. Instead, here he was meeting an executive producer wearing jeans with a small hole in the knee and a homespun-wool jacket that he had paid all outdoors for (but looked, really, quite ratty after a couple years of misuse.) "Mr. Garrah-"

"Please, call me Kell." The producer interrupted.

Merlin ignored him. "I'm not sure why you brought me here."

Kell Garrah folded his hands on his desk. "I'm told you work closely with Miss Liphae. That you have her ear, as it were. You are also a student of history... you must know well the tale of Arthur. Miss Liphae wants to deviate from the tale. As a student of history, I'm sure you can agree that telling the story the right way is what should be done. Morgana Le Fay has never been a hero, as Miss Liphae wants to portray her. The audience will rebel, the show would be canceled. We wouldn't want that."

Ah. It made sense now. Merlin cleared his throat. "Actually, Mr. Garrah, the earliest tales make little mention of Morgana at all."

And there was a reason for that. Merlin hadn't wanted to talk about the sorceress. He was still too hurt by Morgana's betrayal, and his feelings on the choices he felt he had had to make regarding her were still much too raw. She faded away from the tale, little by little, until one night he had opened his big mouth to a writer. Morgana entered the tales once again.

"To show her as good isn't the disaster you think it might be." Merlin stood. "If that is all, I'll be going." He didn't wait for an answer from the other man.

"I had a surprise meeting with a producer today." Merlin flopped down in the chair of Morgan's office he claimed as his.

"You met a producer wearing that?" Morgan raised a brow at him.

"What part of 'surprise' escaped your notice? I thought I was just coming here." Merlin ran a hand through his hair. "He wanted me to try and convince you Morgana couldn't be good."

Morgan clenched her fists and stood. "He what?!" Papers rustled upon her desk, softly at first, but more forcefully as Morgan clearly got more upset. She clearly had no control over her powers, no idea that they were even happening. This wasn't good. Without control of her powers or anyone to guide her, who knew what would happen...

Jumping to his feet, Merlin reached out to Morgan. "Calm down, Morgana. I didn't agree. Come on, just breath." He touched her cheek and turned her face towards him. "Look at me. Breath. Calm down."

Morgan's eyes met his and she took a shuddering breath. The magic that had burned in her eyes faded, returning them to their normal hazel hue. "I'm fine, Merlin."

If either one of them noticed Merlin's slip of the tongue earlier, they didn't mention it.

Notes:

And so ends Chapter 3.

I wanted to make this chapter longer - I've been fussing with it for what feels like forever now, yet kept going back to the original version. So instead of fussing with it even more, I've decided to post it and move on. Otherwise the story will stagnate.

I'd love some in-depth reviews on it. Reviews and discussions are lovely. ^^

(And if you follow my tumblr - link in my profile - you can get updates on my fic, and you can ask me fic related things. I post many things on my tumblr, but fic info is on there! )