Under the Malign Star

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Chapter Two

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See everything;
overlook a great deal;
correct a little.
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Merlin's eye glowed gold, his line of defense when his body unable, and shot Morgana abruptly back into the chair she had erected not long before. The wooden berth skidded across the floor, slamming against the wall so hard that her skull struck the stone a loud "THUD" at contact. Morgana blinked several times, reaching up to cradle the back of her head, still in mild shock. Merlin jerked his arms free from Arthur's firm grasp, striding forward and gripping Morgana's now struggling wrists to hold them firmly by her side. He leaned down to his face was centimeters from hers, inhaling the magic that oozed from her pours, that enchanted him. She initially fought back, but his adrenaline and sheer strength overpowered her. She did not dare use magic against him now, not against the most powerful wizard to walk the earth when he was in such an enraged state. Morgana was many things but stupid was not one of them.

"Why are you here, witch?" Merlin seethed, his grip tightening around Morgana's wrists so much that she feared her bones would crack. However, she refused to allow her magical counterpart to notice the unbearable pain she felt in her forearms. She kept her jaw rigid, tilting her chin up to face him with unwavering confidence.

"I already told your master," she whispered hoarsely, too quiet for Arthur to hear. "I heard word of the queen's betrayal."

"Come now, Morgana," he smirked, infuriatingly so, "I think I know you better than that. I will ask you again, why are you here?"

An eternity passed or possibly a mere moment.

"That's enough, Merlin," said Arthur, firmly holding Merlin's shoulder to pull him away from Morgana. She was grateful, though she'd never admit it.

Merlin released Morgana's wrist and Morgana moved too quick. She gripped Merlin's wrist just as she had before, yanking him back down to her eye level. Her expression had changed, unreadable. Her fingertips dripped a familiar red liquid, leaving a stain around Merlin's forearm. The blow to her head had began to bleed, and she was too proud to admit it aloud.

"You know exactly why I am here, Emerys," she whispered so hoarsely that Arthur could no hear.

Merlin did not move at first. He looked down into Morgana's desperate eyes, seeing deep into her cryptic soul. He looked almost frightened for a quick second, his mouth opening and closing with no words escaping. Arthur peered suspiciously over at the pair, wondering exactly what Morgana had said to disturb his magical adviser so. Merlin pulled away from Morgana's grip at last as if he had been touched by a diseased creature.

"Sire," said Merlin slowly, looking back over his shoulder only slightly so he could keep his attention on Morgana. "I need to tend to Morgana's wound. It appears she is bleeding."

Morgana held up her bloody palm for good measure, fanning her fingers with a mocking grin.

"Merlin–" he began.

"We won't be long," he said in a curt tone. "I assure you. Come, Morgana."

Merlin reached down and grabbed Morgana's forearm and yanked her into the corridor before Arthur could protest. He had no concern for her aching cranium or the now significant amount of blood pouring down her neck and leaking onto the stone floor. The two did not speak or even exchange eye contact as the warlock dragged Morgana down the lengthy halls and spiral staircases until the pair reached what was once Gaius's physician quarters. Merlin practically threw Morgana onto the bench he had healed so many other before her upon (with so much more tender care). He fumbled through his cabinets, pulling random bottles and bandages to heal Morgana's injury he had caused. He returned a moment later to sit facing her on the bench with either leg hanging off either side, setting his collected items on the table. He reached for a bottle of particularly smelly liquid to disinfect the wound but Morgana placed a gentle hand on his knuckles.

"I am more than capable of healing myself, Merlin," she said, reaching for the bottle but Merlin stopped her.

"I am well aware of your infamous healing abilities, Morgana," said Merlin, uncorking the bottle and pouring the liquid onto an unsullied cloth. He didn't ask when he placed the cloth just below her hairline upon the gash he had created. Morgana winced and scolded herself for it, Merlin would be lying if he didn't take some form of sick pleasure at her involuntary cringe.

"Sorry," he said.

"I'm sure," she muttered sarcastically, setting her hand over his.

She meant to take his place, holding the cloth to stop the bleeding and cleanse the wound. Morgana's eyes wandered onto Merlin's face again. He had aged since she had last seen him, but he looked just as handsome as before if not more so. His eyes were just as bright and daunting as they were in his boyhood, though they now appeared to sport lines and dark circles that had not previously existed. His face seemed rigid, less boyish and hopeful of a great future. Morgana knew that Merlin was just as aware of Camelot's inevitable doom as she was. Merlin, however, was slightly less willing or slightly less pleased to admit it.

"These are your chambers now, aren't they?" she asked with no malice or spite on her tongue as she peered around at a room she remembered all too well. Merlin did not drastically alter the look of the chambers that Gaius once called home, but there were undeniably more items that were specifically meant for immortal hands.

"Yes," he replied, corking his medicine bottle.

"It's... different," she said slowly.

"Enough with the small talk," said Merlin, "I would like to exchange as few syllables with you as necessary."

"And I thought you would be anxious to catch up with an old friend," she teased, using her free hand to trace Merlin's jaw line down to the base of his collarbone. He did not object, merely closing his eyes and tilting his head in a way to flex every indention in his neck. His expression was almost sad, which was not the response Morgana wanted or expect. She slowly pulled her hand back and rested it in her lap like a dog's tail retreating between his legs.

"We have not been friends for a long time, Morgana," he said softly. "We have not been anything for a long time, and we will never be anything again – especially now."

"You've seen what I've seen?" she said.

"Yes," he replied. "I have the same dream each and every night. It's not a dream... it's–"

"It's a nightmare," she whispered.

"And it will soon come to be reality," he sighed.

"I know," she frowned.

"Tell me something, Morgana," said Merlin, looking at her for the first time. "Who's death will you truly mourn, your bastard or your brother–"

"Yours," she whispered.

"Mine?" he said, choking on the word. "What do you mean?"

"Your heart beats as one with Arthur," she breathed, "and when your king takes his final breath – the destiny you were bound to share will die with him. Yes, your body may survive, my old friend, but you will perish along side your king. And Camelot will soon crumble under the weight of an empty thrown that no man shall ever be worthy enough to fill."

"Do not pretend to care, Morgana," said Merlin cryptically, trying not to drown in the fluidity of the witch's words. "Your loyalties are not to Camelot, to me – to Arthur. Your allegiance lies with your bastard son – to those vicious fiends he commands."

"You are wrong," she hissed. "I am loyal to but one, the only living soul I can always rely on, the only one I trust – and you are staring into her eyes as we speak."

"How predictable," Merlin said, heaving a heavy breath. "You were always so fond of your own reflection that you could not possibly remain loyal to anyone but yourself. You are but a fool."

"Forgive me for growing so hesitant to commit my allegiance after being betrayed by those I once trusted above all else. I am apprehensive to extend my loyalties to mere scoundrels who have done nothing but steal from me and abandon me when I was so desperate for empathy," she frowned. "My father rejected me as his blood, and my whore of a maid stole the first man I ever loved then in turn stole the crown from my head and Camelot from under my feet. My brother stole my innocence, my claim to the throne, leaving me with only a barren womb and a broken heart in his wake. Then comes you Merlin–"

"Oh, do go on," he sneered.

"My dear old friend, how easily you have forgotten," she smiled shallowly as if she savored his name escaping her lips. "It was not all that long ago that something much stronger than hate stood between us."

"I have not forgotten," said Merlin begrudgingly in a quiet voice.

"You may not have stolen my life the night you so stealthily poisoned me," she whispered, "but you did succeed in stealing my spirit. Morgause may have restored my life, but she could not restore the spirit you alone destroyed."

"You chose to swear yourself to Morgause–"

"Ah, just as you chose to push me into the shadows to avoid the acknowledgment of the existence my powers," she snapped. "Just as you chose to disregard me like some forgotten play thing, and just as you chose to allow me to live alone and terrified in a palace of blood thirsty mortals, constantly searching for any faint stench of magic blood to spill. Do not accuse me of admiring my own reflection when you have been hypnotized by your own the moment those blue eyes of yours glowed gold."

"I am nothing like you," said Merlin with unyielding ferocity.

"We are not so different," she went on. "We are both mere sinners, Merlin, the only difference between us is – I am willing to admit it."

"You take innocent lives for your own selfish gain," he replied.

"Do not act as if you are a saint," she scoffed. "You have taken just as many lives by your own hand as I have by mine."

"I have only ever acted for the greater good," he argued. "If I took a life in the process it was never in vain."

"My actions have only ever been for the greater good," she said. "However, our definition of what exactly that "greater good" is differs quite significantly."

"I also kill for self defense, and you kill for sport," he spat.

Morgana rolled her eyes theatrically. She pulled her hand from her newly healed cranium gently and looked down at the bloody cloth with an odd expression. Her eyes widened as if she had just seen something most appalling instead of her own blood. Morgana was not unaccustomed to blood. She had lost a significant amount of blood over her three plus decades of life in battle and had spilled just as much. Merlin eyed her curiously, looking down at the bloody rag and then back onto Morgana. She had began to rub the detailed stitching of the cloth between her fingers.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "I'm sure you have seen much more blood than that over your many years of mass torture of the innocent."

She blinked hard just once and looked up at Merlin with a rare genuine expression.

"This is a handkerchief," she said quietly.

"What a fine observation," said Merlin sarcastically.

"Where did you get this?" she breathed.

"It was tucked away with some of Gaius's valuables that he left to me," he replied.

"I gave this to Gaius," she sighed. "When I was very young. It had belonged to my mother – a gift to her from my father, Gorlois. I remember she used it to wipe away my tears I shed at her bedside not long before she passed – I was no bigger than a mite. It was one of the few things I had to remember her by. I had asked Gaius to keep it safe for me. I was so scared that I would lose it or damage it during my reckless childhood. I can't believe I had forgotten..."

"Well, he apparently treasured your heirlooms much more than you treasured his life," he frowned.

"I was not responsible for his death," she said reluctantly, "though I did accept the credit."

"You set the North Tower aflame," said Merlin. "Gaius died in that very fire."

"It is true that I was to blame for the fire," she said, "but Gaius had been killed long before the flames burned his body."

"Do not test me, Morgana," he hissed.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Merlin," she said sincerely. "I have nothing to gain."

"Just upstairs you were all too pleased to gloat about his murder," he snapped. "What are you trying to prove?"

"I am not trying to prove anything," she said in an infuriatingly calm voice, "but I would like you to hate me for the right reasons. You have so many, but his death should not be one of them. Gaius may have died by my side, but he did not die at my hand."

"I don't believe you," he replied.

"And I do not care whether you do or not," she said. "I was beside Mordred when he thrust his blade through Gaius's chest. It is my son's sword that is stained with the physician's blood. I did not instigate his murder. I set the fire to hide the crime committed by my own blood. He was not yet hunted by the knights of Camelot as I was, and I wanted to keep things that way for as long as I could."

"You were always a skilled liar," said Merlin.

"You found his remains directly in the center of the library, did you not?" she said. "Why would a man trying to escape a fire refuse to seek out one of three exits?"

There was no explanation to how Morgana knew that information. Merlin ran every possibility, every scenario in his head to comprehend how she would have been able to discover that information. The only two people who knew exactly where Gaius was found was himself, and he had told no one. Merlin found the placement of his guardian's body suspicious, but he did not press for further investigation considering the identity of the murderer would surely not have changed.

"Why are you telling me this now?" asked Merlin breathlessly. "Why would you disclose this after all this time?"

"I have committed so many sins, Merlin," she said softly. "I can no longer bare the weight of the misdeeds of others."

Merlin watched as Morgana's shoulders slouched to stare down at the bloody cloth. She waved her calloused palm over the fabric, bewitching the material back to its opaline white. She carefully folded the handkerchief into a neat square and place it onto the tabletop before Merlin. He surveyed it for a moment before swiftly taking it into his hand and shoving it most inelegantly back into Morgana's closed fist.

"It's yours – take it," he said, unwilling to look into her eyes.

"No," she replied, setting the handkerchief in the same spot she had before. "Gaius left it in your capable hands."

"It belongs to you, Morgana," he insisted, forcing back into her hand.

"Merlin," she whispered in a way that demanded attention. "I want you to have it. Please, take it."

Morgana slowly and poignantly took Merlin's hand in her lap, and he did not fight her touch. She opened his palm and placed the delicate cloth in his hand. She took her other hand a gently closed his fingers over the fabric. Both sets of eyes gradually rose from their hands before finally locking upon each other. It was never about what was said between Merlin and Morgana. I was what was never said that was so poignant. They suffocated on words unsaid and denied feelings under a star crossed sky. Yes, the destiny Merlin and Morgana shared had always suffered beneath the merciless overcast of the malign star. Merlin's free hand latched over Morgana's so that all four of their hands were folded together as one. A surge of electricity shot between them causing their senses to heighten as every hair on their bodies stood on end at once. Morgana gasped quietly, her eyes involuntarily glowing gold for an instant as did Merlin's. After an eternity of comfortable silence it was Morgana who spoke first.

"Merlin–"

Before she could finish another syllable the door to Merlin's chambers opened. Guinevere appeared, her cheeks tear stained and eyes swollen from remorse. She wore a gown that Morgana had dreamed of wearing upon the throne she deemed to be entitled to. The dress was purple and as elegant as anything Morgana had ever seen. Her blood boiled at the sight of Gwen. She could control her disgust at the woman who wore crown when away from the kingdom, but she could not contain her revulsion in her presence. When Morgana looked upon Guinevere, she saw nothing but thief who stole the man she loved, the crown she deserved and the life she desired.

"Merlin, do you know where Arthur–" Gwen started until she set eyes on Merlin and Morgana. "What is going on here? What is she doing here?"

Morgana instantly jerked her hand from Merlin's grip leaving a premature tinging under his skin. She took to her feet and delivered a very low and melodramatic mock of a curtsy. The shell that Merlin had almost cracked had hardened once more before his eyes. Morgana's wicked grin returned as she slowly corrected her posture. Gwen appeared as if she was attempting to blind her female counterpart with unwavering confidence in some failed intimidation effort. Morgana was merely amused by Guinevere's facade of nobility and sainthood.

"Your Majesty, what a dishonor," Morgana scoffed, retreating from her curtsy.

"Morgana, how the mighty have fallen," she replied, turning up her nose. "Once a princess high in an ivory tower to a lone vagrant cowering beneath weight of the monster she alone helped create."

"And Guinevere, how successfully you have risen out from the squaller you were born into," Morgana seethed. "What a fairytale you live – from a lowly maid to sovereign whore."

"How dare you speak to me with such disrespect?" she shouted. "I am your Queen, and–"

Morgana's chest heaved a heavy breathe before her reply, "You are not my Queen."

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A/N: It's been awhile, loves. I hope you enjoy this little chapter. I promise my next update will be much longer and will most likely be the last or second to last chapter. Excuse typos for now.

Coming Soon: Morgana and Gwen will have it out then Arthur returns. Morgana, Merlin and Arthur talk about why exactly she has returned to Camelot. Much more to come.

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