okay, so i was recently rewatching the earlier seasons and it occurred to me that there was a drastic change in both Morgana and Morgause's characters during the third season. first of all, Morgana suddenly became bent on revenge, and while it made sense for her to hate Uther and Merlin, it didn't really make sense for her to hate Arthur. It was like they had decided to completely rewrite her character. She went from being a kind, loving, scared woman to a vengeful one (who had this constant annoying smirk). And Morgause...well in the second season, she didn't bare Arthur any ill will. Admittedly she tried to have him kill Uther, but it's not the same thing. And she seemed to know about his destiny to build Albion, or at least know that he was destined for great things because she spoke about his 'great destiny'. and then in the next season she suddenly wanted to kill him as well as Uther. I don't agree with people who say that she was entirely evil, in fact I believe that her wish for revenge against Uther was completely just - especially as she was the High Priestess. And I don't believe that she brainwashed or used Morgana either - I believed that she really loved her sister. Anyway, rant over, this sort of developed from those opinions, and it's also sort of based on a dream I had.

I also wanted to have a go a second person perspective. This is from Merlin's point of view, which is pretty obvious i think.

Even if you don't agree with my opinion, I hope you give this a shot. And please let me know what you think!

The hearth is cold. You stare at it, in the same way you have been for the last fifteen minutes. Ash is scattered across the old stone and wooden floor boards, and the fresh pile of wood beside you remains untouched. You know you have to clean it, know that you have to finish the job Arthur gave you before you are found and told off for wasting time. But the twisted pile of ash and charred wood somehow seems to represent your tangled life, and some part of you, the part that finds something about this bitterly ironic, finds it fascinating.

Ever since you came to Camelot, your life has been extremely complicated. You were charged with protecting the future of Camelot, of Albion, which meant protecting a prince who seemed more of a brat then the future king who was destined to unite the realms and save magic. You spent the best part of a year protecting Arthur, who seemed so controlled by his magic-hating father that you never felt safe enough to reveal your secret, even though you told yourself every day that he was different from his father. And, perhaps it was that constant fear that led you to betray the woman you always felt was your friend.

Exactly a week ago you killed the Lady Morgana.

You lean heavily on the edge of the fireplace, where stone becomes wood, and screw your eyes shut as her stricken face rises before your eyes. She trusted you. And, there is no other word for it, you betrayed her. You held her life in your hands and you threw it away. If it hadn't been for her sister, who seems far less evil than half of the other foes you have defeated for Camelot's sake, her blood would be on your hands. You don't even know if Morgana is alive. A bitter laugh escapes your lips. You tried to save a kingdom from an evil sorceress. Instead, you nearly killed her sister, and part of you knows that Camelot's fate seems far darker now, because now she will want revenge. The face behind your eyes changes and you see Morgause's tear stained face and you feel your heart twist. You remember with bitter clarity the way her beautiful face was transfixed with fear and horror, the way she stared at you almost pleadingly and the way she held Morgana like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Morgause knew her for less than a week and chose to save her with barely a second thought, where as you knew her for over a year and didn't even bother to think of finding a different way. You, the hero, as good as killed her, whereas she, the villain, saved her.

You're not a hero. You're a killer. Faces flicker rapidly before your eyes, voices, the last words of the men and women you have killed to protect Camelot. You killed them all without a second thought, and it is only now that you realise how much blood is on your hands.

This has to stop. You know that you will never stop fighting for Arthur, never stop protecting him, but you vow that from now on you will try and find a different way. A kingdom as great as Albion should not be built from the blood of its enemies.

It takes a mere second to clear the fireplace with a wave of your hand. You stand, brushing stray ash off your pants, and then turn to continue the daily chores. And find yourself nearly face to face with Morgause.

You jerk away, letting out a very girly shriek, and trip over your own feet, landing unceremoniously in a heap in front of the fireplace, your hand thrown up to protect yourself. The magic that thrums through your veins has gathered swiftly in the palm of your hand, but something stops you from attacking her.

She is still standing in the same spot, gazing down at you with an expression that is both amused and thoughtful. You pause, registering that she has not attacked you yet, and study her, looking for some sign as to why she is here. Morgause stands straight and tall, arms hanging loosely by her sides, long blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders. She is wearing the same dress she wore when you visited her with Arthur, and it takes you only a moment to see that she is unarmed. There is a part of you that wants to lash out at her, to take out some of your anger at her for forcing you to hurt Morgana, to ease the guilt. But part of you also realises that she must be here for a reason. And you did just swear that you would stop killing people.

You lower your arm slowly and give her a look that clearly expresses that she had better explain herself. A small smile lifts the corners of her mouth and she stretches out a hand, bending over slightly so that you can reach it. You stare at it for a moment, feeling that there must be something else behind that simple gesture. You also know that the moment you take her hand she will take it as a sign you will listen to whatever she has to say, and you're not entirely sure whether you want to listen.

You glance hesitantly up at her, searching for some flicker of anger, but finding nothing except growing amusement. She quirks an eyebrow and your hand reaches out of its own accord to take hers. Her hand is smooth but strong and you wonder whether it's just your imagination, or whether you do feel a spark jump between your palms. She hauls you to your feet without apparent effort and you realise that you are actually taller than her. You drop her hand hastily and she takes a step back, raising her hands to shoulder height in a gesture of peace. So she isn't here to take her anger out on you.

'What do you want?' the words come out harsher than you intend but there is no taking them back now.

All amusement is wiped from her face to be replaced by a look of such intense grief and suffering that it takes your breath away. You watch as she takes a deep breath and swallows, looking you deep in the eyes as she says, 'I thought you should know; Morgana's gone'. Her usually enchanting musical voice is raw with pain and grief and you suddenly notice that her deep brown eyes are rimed red as if she has been crying.

Your breath catches in your throat and her words seem to hit you like physical blows. Your reaction seems to startle her because she hastens to say, 'she's not dead. But she is gone and I doubt that either one of us will ever see her again, at least not for many years'.

You stare at her for a moment. While you are wondering why she is telling you this, you also want to know what happened. 'I gave you the antidote, why didn't you use it?' you don't understand why Morgana isn't with her sister, or why Morgause seems so sad.

She closes her eyes briefly before saying, 'I was too late. I didn't get it to her in time. By the time I did the poison had all but done its work. She was beyond my skill to heal' her voice trails off and she moves away from him to sit down in a chair. Every movement she makes is slow and painful, as if she is physically weighed down by a great burden you cannot see.

You follow her after a moment, dragging a chair out from under the table to sit opposite her. Now that you've started listening you're determined to get the whole story, no matter how long it takes. 'What happened?' your voice is softer than it was because you can see how much pain she is in and you know that you are partly responsible for that.

She sighs, 'I took her to Avalon, to the Fae. I... begged them to heal her' the word 'begged' seems foreign as it slips from her lips, because you could never imagine Morgause begging for anything. 'They promised to heal her because she has something important to do in the future, but they said that they would keep her there until the time came for her to do that'.

You interrupt to say 'why didn't you stay with her?' after seeing Morgause choose Morgana over her revenge on Uther you are surprised she would let some Faeries take her sister from her.

'They wouldn't let me'. You can almost feel how much anger she has over that fact and you shift almost unconsciously away from her.

Once you are sure she isn't going to lash out you ask her why, watching her all the time encase she decides to attack you. While you don't doubt that she is telling the truth, you can't help but doubt that she is just here for a chat. She seems at odds with everything in this room, like a lioness that someone is attempting to tame.

She laughs bitterly, 'apparently I have a part to play in Arthur's destiny, and yours, and that is more important than my sister and my feelings'.

You are aware that your mouth is hanging open and you shut it quickly, but you can't stop from feeling as if she just punched you in the stomach. She knows. While you sit there dumbfounded, trying to understand how she can possibly know about your magic, she conjures up a small flame in her fingers and watches as it flickers in her palm, clearly waiting for you to say something.

You swallow, your eyes strangely drawn to the flame, and say, 'you know about my destiny? About Arthur's?'

A small smile flickers over her face for a brief second. 'I am a Priestess of the Old Religion, a Seer, yet I didn't even know that Arthur was the Once and Future King until I encountered the Fae. Nor who you really were Emrys, which is now so painstakingly obvious'.

You shiver as she speaks your name, though you are unsure why. 'I don't understand why you're telling me this'. Your voice shakes with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

She says nothing for a moment. Then quietly, more to herself than to you, 'I came here to destroy Uther Pendragon because I believed that those with magic would be free after his death. Instead I have probably turned the Once and Future King against magic and I nearly killed my own sister. If I kill Uther through magical means then all hope for magic is all but destroyed. The Fae made it clear that seeing his father killed by magic will turn Arthur against it'.

Forgetting your previous confusion, and the fact that she still hasn't really told you why she is telling you this, you say, 'why did the Fae tell you this?'

She smiles slightly. 'Who are we to question the ways of immortals? The Fae have many names you know. They are also known as the keepers of fate. And sometimes, when a person strays too far from their destiny, they help to push them back on track'. The flame dances over her fingers, tracing the faint lines on her palm. 'That was what happened with me. My fate apparently, has little to do with destroying Camelot. Though what my fate actually is, is another matter entirely. They have a fondness for speaking in riddles'.

Your lips quirk, despite your best efforts to still them. There is something strangely exciting about sitting here in Arthur's room talking to a woman that everyone believes to be the spawn of the devil himself. You haven't had a chance to speak openly about your magic for a long time, except for Gaius, and it's not really the same. Perhaps that goes a little way to explaining why you can't seem to keep your eyes off her. You are drawn to her like a moth to the flame. In your case, you are drawn to her magic, the raw wild magic you can feel hanging in the air around her. 'It sounds like they and Killgirath would get along splendidly'. Your eyes widen when you realise what you just said, but she doesn't seem surprised.

'Tell me, this dragon you speak of, he wouldn't happen to be the one who told you to kill my sister would he?' at your hesitant nod she smiled, a slightly threatening curve of her red lips, 'I might just pay him a visit. Do you mind if I give you some advice? When people talk about knowing the future, especially the most ancient of beings, they are talking about one possible future. There is always more than one. And, as you have probably realised, his biggest priority was to get out of Camelot'.

'I'll keep that in mind', you say dryly. There is a long silence, one that is strangely comfortable. Now that she isn't threatening your life, or Arthur's, the friction between you seems a lot less obvious. You watch her watch the small flame in her hand, and you can't help but notice the softness to her features, the slight frown between her curved brows, as if her thoughts are still with her sister. The bracelet on her wrist is one you recognise well, and it makes sense that Morgana wouldn't need it anymore. Eventually, though you feel you could sit here for hours, you break the silence. 'What will you do now?'

She looks at you then, really looks at you, perhaps startled by the genuine caring note in your voice. Her brown eyes are deep and bottomless, as if one could get lost falling into their depths. 'I wanted to make you an offer actually…you are meant to be the greatest wizard ever known, and while I don't doubt that you will become that at some point, it might be a good idea if you actually had someone to teach you. You are clearly quite skilled, if what the Fae said was true, but most of your success comes from luck rather than skill. No offence'.

'None taken'. You pause, unsure where this is going. 'So you're saying that you want to…teach me?'

The muscles in her hand flex, and the flame suddenly grows larger, twisting in on itself until it becomes a small dragon. The fire dragon hisses smoke at you, spurting a small column of fire before she closes her hand around it, extinguishing the flame. 'If you like. One day you're going to come across someone who will just simply try to kill you, rather than bother to fight you. Luck can only take you so far. I really have nothing better to do'. There is a distinct sadness in her tone as she speaks.

You hesitate. Though you recognise the wisdom in the offer, you can't help but be slightly suspicious. Your time here has taught you not to trust too easily, and you find yourself unable to relinquish that now. 'I…thanks for the offer but…I need to think about it'.

She smiles, that same reserved smile that you have become strangely familiar with. 'Of course. Let me know when you have made your mind up'.

She stands and you say hastily. 'I am sorry about Morgana. I…if I could change things, I would. She was my friend and I betrayed her, and I only hope she finds it in her heart to forgive me'.

She stares at you for a moment, arms folded, her hip cocked to the side. 'I have forgiven you Merlin, and Morgana is a far better person than I am. I just…' that look of desperate sadness crosses her face again, and you can't help but notice that it makes her look very young. 'She was my sister, and I used her. For that, I will never forgive myself'.

Before you can do more than open your mouth, shock at the realisation of the level of her guilt rendering you speechless, she is gone. You blink rapidly, trying to understand what just happened. And then you smile. Despite everything, Morgana is alive and well somewhere in the world and Morgause is no longer a threat. If anything, she's now an ally. Camelot's future is looking distinctly brighter than it was several hours ago.

You will accept her offer of course. It would be foolish not to. Because she is right, one day your luck will run out, or you will meet someone who cannot be beaten by raw skill and talent. And Arthur will need you for many years to come. Besides, there is no denying the excitement you feel whenever you think about learning more magic.

At first, your lessons with Morgause are extremely tense. Though you recognise that she is trying to teach you far more than you could learn by yourself, there is something lacking that you always had with Gaius.

Trust. Despite knowing that she is no longer a threat, you can't help but be cautious. Deep down, you still don't trust her, and it is affecting your ability to learn from her. Every time she sends a spell at you with the instructions to block it, you flinch away. Once or twice, you've even retaliated. Every time she demonstrates, you have to stand behind her, part of you thinking that she will turn on you.

This is the real cruelty of what Uther has done. He has turned magician against magician and made each fear their own kind. It is that thought that keeps you there, attempting to learn.

But if what they say is true, and that trust is something that has to be earned, you can pinpoint the exact time she earns yours.

Ever since Morgana's disappearance, Arthur had taken to hunting by himself. It always worried you, to the point where you followed him once. He spotted you of course, and you decided not to repeat the experience. Despite the prince's skill with a blade, there is no doubt that there are things out there that he could simply not overcome. You were thankful for it after a while; as it gave you time to learn with Morgause.

One day, Arthur doesn't return from a hunting trip. Uther is frantic. Having lost his ward, the very thought of losing his son sends him into a furious temper meant to disguise his fear. Search parties are sent out round the clock, but there isn't any sign of the crown prince.

You spend the entire time sitting with Gwen trying to sooth her fears. Though nothing could help your own.

The next day, around lunch time, Arthur walks through the courtyard with his arm in a sling and a bemused frown on his face. You accompany him to the throne room, trying to wipe the idiotic grin from your face, where a relieved Uther questions his son. The results are intriguing.

Apparently, Arthur had been hunting deep in the forest when he had been attacked by a huge bear. The prince had spent a minute trying to fend it off before he had attempted to flee the area. Even he hadn't been foolish enough to take on a full grown bear with nothing but a bow and a hunting knife. He'd been cut off by the furious creature and thrown against a tree, breaking his arm and several ribs. Before he had lost consciousness, he had seen what looked like a bolt of lightning strike the ground between him and the bear.

At this point, Uther interjects with his famous angry snarl. 'Magic?' You attempt to not roll your eyes. If it had been magic, then it was obvious it had saved Arthur's life, rather than endangering it.

Arthur sighs heavily, obviously a little annoyed with his father. 'I believe so. Anyway, I woke up in this cave with my arm in a bandage. Someone was attempting to fix my ribs'. Arthur hesitates. 'I…don't know who they were. They had magic though, that much was clear, because I could hear them chanting while they smoothed this stuff on the wounds the bear had inflicted on my chest. I…they made me sit for a while before giving me something to eat and helping me onto my horse. Whoever it was then enchanted the horse to follow a specific route back to Camelot. That's why I took so long'.

Uther frowns. 'You are fortunate that they didn't hurt you. I want you to go to Gaius, get him to make sure that the stuff they put on you wasn't poisoned'.

Arthur shakes his head. 'Whoever they were, they meant me no harm. They saved my life father, never mind that they had magic. I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for them'.

You follow Arthur, not to Gaius's chambers but to his own, feeling a little lighter. Whoever it was had obviously helped to change Arthur's views on magic a little. Once you are alone with the prince however, you notice that there was definitely something else on his mind. 'Arthur? Was that all that happened? You seem…preoccupied'.

Arthur looks at you, a deep frown creasing his forehead. 'I wasn't entirely truthful with my father…I know who it was. It was Morgause'.

Your eyes widened and the surprise on your face is not superficial. 'Morgause? The woman who took Morgana? Why would she want to help you?'

Arthur sits down heavily, wincing as he knocks his arm on the table. 'I don't know. But there was nothing pretend about what she was doing. My ribs are completely healed and the wounds are gone. She…she told me that not everything I knew about magic was true. And that Morgana was safe and well. I didn't want to believe her but…I think she was telling the truth'.

'That's something to be glad for though isn't it?' You don't bother to keep the note of happiness out of your voice. 'Morgana's alive'.

Arthur smiles, clearly still conflicted. 'True'.

You don't speak of it again, but you can tell that the prince isn't entirely happy about the idea that magic is completely evil. And with the knowledge that Morgana is alive, he becomes a lot less angry. He starts to spend more time with Gwen, in secret of course, and you can see that there is a lot more between them than either seems to realise.

The next time you see Morgause, your smile is not false. Neither of you mention it, but there is comfortableness between you that was not there before. Somehow, she managed to change your opinion about her and Arthur's opinion about magic, which is more than you have done in a year.

You're not sure when trust becomes friendship, nor when it starts to develop into something more.

You only know that you start to hesitate a little during your duels (it was your idea to get her to teach you sword fighting. Arthur notices of course, but he doesn't know or suspect who is teaching you). And that whenever she pins you against something with the blades the only things between you, you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks. You start to notice things about her that you hadn't before, the graceful way she moves when she fights, the golden glow to her eyes that isn't always attributed to magic, the way she frowns slightly when she is concentrating hard. You notice her smiles, and from them you begin to understand her moods.

The first time she laughs, a true laugh, not an amused chuckle, you're struck speechless. Her laugh is high and clear, like the tinkling of crystal bells, and your heart kicks into overdrive at the sound. You do everything within your power to make her laugh more from that moment on.

It's a few days after that that you discover that despite her knowledge of the world and its ways, she is only a few years older than you. You don't quite understand why that changes things, but it does.

You do remember the day you first kissed her.

It happens several days after you had heard rumours about a tomb containing the last dragon egg (a month or two after you began to get these strange pangs in your gut whenever you thought about her). A man was planning to steal your inheritance, and so naturally you decided to stop him.

'That egg contains the future of the dragon race Morgause! This man will sell it to the highest bidder and imagine what will happen if Uther hears about it! I am a Dragonlord Morgause; I have a responsibility to ensure that never happens!' Your voice is strong and powerful with your conviction.

She smiles, an amused one this time, and pulls a deep green travelling cloak around her shoulders. 'Well, I never said it was a bad idea to go, I just said that you should probably have some company'. She has noticed the slight change in your perception of her, which embarrassed you at first. But there is something exciting about flirting with her, an opportunity you have rarely had. None of the girls in your village were ever slightly interested, and you simply haven't had time as Arthur's manservant.

The task is not an easy one, though it is the chase that really presents the difficulty. And after working your way past various bobby traps in the tomb, you both discover that removing the egg hadn't been the best idea.

As the building crumbles around you, Morgause grabs your arm and pulls you both from the tomb. You land sprawled on your backs at the edge of the forest. 'Ow', you say pointedly.

She laughs, that same tinkling laugh that makes your heart beat faster, and turns onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at you. 'Well we were in a bit of a hurry weren't we?'

You roll over so that you are at eye level. The egg lies between you, and you barely feel it when your hands touch on top of it. The world seems to go abruptly quiet, as nothing else seems that important. Your heart was already thumping with adrenaline, and now you feel as if it is going to burst out of your chest. You can't seem to take your eyes from her lips. You're not sure who moves first, but suddenly your lips are pressed to hers and your hand is resting against her soft cheek. Your senses are overwhelmed by the close proximity to her, the smell of roses and wild magic heavy in your nostrils. She tastes of fruit and honey and her lips are softer than you ever imagined.

You roll onto your back, pulling her on top of you, your hands resting on her hips. Her hand brushes against your heart and plays with the hair at the nape of your neck. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. It feels right.

When you finally break the kiss, your lungs screaming for air, you let your fingers trace the curves and angles of her face. Her pulse is wild and erratic when you pass the point in her neck. Her expression is one you're not familiar with, a mix of surprise and something else. Her eyes are gold, and you have the feeling that yours are too. She bends to kiss you again and raw magic flares between you, thrumming through your veins at a speed that takes your breath away. Or perhaps that is just her.

It is the pure magic that you are both emitting that wakes the egg, lying forgotten in the grass. You both snap around to stare at it as it shakes, a crack forming along the centre. Before coming here, Kilgharrah told you that the only way to wake a dragon egg was to name it, or to flood it with enough magic that it became overwhelmed. You laugh when you realise what you have both done, and lean up to kiss her again before you place your hand on the egg and name it. There is no doubt within you, you feel as if you have never been surer of anything in your life.

Of course, you are wrong. Later, much later, when the dragon fledgling has flown into the sky and Kilgharrah has congratulated you, his eyes seeming to linger a little on hand you hold in your own, you find yourself on the edge of the forest. You sit there on the edge of a great, clear lake, watching the ripples flowing along the surface, disturbing the reflection of the bright stars. There are mountains in the distance, and you feel strangely small compared to what they have seen and felt.

She sits beside you, closer than usual, and watches the lake with you. It is probably the most peaceful moment in your life so far. Then you turn your head to look at her. The moonlight baths her in silvery light, catching in her golden hair and caressing her alabaster skin. As if sensing your gaze, she turns to look at you. The moonlight reflects in her brown eyes, and for a moment you feel unsure. But then you lean forwards and kiss her again, and the magic flares between your bodies as she links her hands behind your neck.

In this moment, you know you have never been more sure of anything, and that knowledge makes your heart sour.

Things are different after that, and not just with her. The days seem to move more slowly, and your chest arches with the separation. Arthur constantly inquires about the foolish grin on your face, but you never tell him. You can't.

It is Gwen who comes closest. One day, when she walks in to find you scrubbing the floor with a dazed look on your face, she says, 'you know, you really should find someone Merlin'.

You blink rapidly at her. 'What?'

She laughs and sits down opposite you. 'Haven't you noticed the way a lot of girls have been acting around you? Unless you do something about it, you're going to be swamped'.

You have noticed, you just haven't cared. You've filled out over the past year, the lankiness having disappeared. With the constant fighting, training and vigorous chores, your shoulders have broadened, your limbs have strengthened noticeably, your stomach has toned and your chest has deepened. You've never been exactly vain, but you like this new, fitter muscular body. If anything, at least you're not being made fool of when Arthur decides to practice on you. In fact, you've come close to beating him once or twice. Arthur has inquired more than once about how you have managed to improve so quickly. Of course, you can hardly tell him that you are being trained by the woman who beat him in single combat.

You smile at Gwen, a lopsided grin. 'Perhaps I've already found someone'.

It is as close to the truth as you feel comfortable with and when she says, 'I think you might be in love Merlin. Tell me, who is it?' you wink at her and then steer the conversation firmly towards her romance with Arthur, which has been steadily growing. She blushes and exclaims that he is imagining things, but her smile speaks otherwise.

You are happy for them, because you can tell that this is no mere fling for Arthur, and wish you could tell them the truth.

You don't.

When Morgause tells you that you are going to be a father, you feel like someone has just hit you over the back of the head.

You get over it eventually, and everyone, especially Arthur, notices the sudden spring in you step and the way your smile has become even more foolish, and slightly bemused. You haven't experienced happiness of this kind before, and it fills you up from the inside out.

About a month or two before the baby is due, you realise just how terrified Morgause is. Not for the birth, but for the fate of the child. She is terrified because you will be bringing a child into a world that is still terrified of magic, and there is no doubting that your baby will be extremely powerful. You start to worry too, because you still haven't managed to completely convince Arthur that magic is not evil, though he is far more open minded than he used to be. And no one knows about your relationship to Morgause, except for Gaius (who you told months ago and who was surprisingly happy for you, possibly because he could see how happy you were), and you feel that all hell will break loose when it is discovered. Especially when it comes out that you were married by a priest from a rival kingdom with two druids for witnesses.

And then, because fate has a way of being very inconvenient, Gwen uncovers the truth. Morgause is in the castle for a check-up with Gaius, who was ecstatic that he was going to be a godfather, and you are waiting for Gaius to return from a late call to one of the houses on the edge of the city.

You are sitting on a table next to Morgause, who is sitting with her head bowed in the chair beside you. You are stroking her hair almost absentmindedly (you discovered months ago that it was something she found soothing), when the door opens and before you have time to react Gwen is in the room and staring at the two of you like she has just seen a ghost.

Morgause reacts more quickly than you, slamming and locking the door with magic before tugging Gwen further into the room. You are on your feet, a hand clamped down over Gwen's mouth before she can speak. You stare into her eyes, and are slightly relieved to see nothing but shock. At least she isn't scared or outraged by the use of magic. 'Please, Gwen, just listen before you say anything'.

She nods once and you release her. Morgause watches the serving girl with narrowed eyes as she sits opposite you, and you can't help but notice the way Gwen won't stop staring at Morgause's stomach. It wasn't hard to work out what was going on here.

So you tell her, after swearing her to secrecy. You tell her everything; from the day you first arrived in Camelot to the day you discovered you were going to be a father. Gwen is very easy to read. There is no horror when you tell her about her magic, in fact her reaction makes you suspect that she had guessed already, and she actually looks happy when you tell her about the baby.

Strangely, or perhaps not, the first thing she does when you are finished is to say, 'so Morgana is really alive? She's safe'.

Morgause flinches (she still hasn't forgiven herself for what happened, and perhaps she never will) and you place a hand on her shoulder. Gwen watches the two of you, noticing the almost subtle relaxation in Morgause's posture as you touch her. 'Yes. She's safe. Though we might never see her again. Please Gwen, I know this is hard to understand, but you can't tell anyone'. You know you're pleading, because you don't know what you will do if she refuses to keep your secrets.

She hesitates. Then she turns to Morgause. 'You saved Arthur's life, that time with the bear, didn't you?'

Morgause looks surprised, but she nods once. Gwen smiles, and though it's a little strained, its real. 'Then I trust you. I trust you both, if what you say is true Merlin then I can't count the number of times you have saved our lives. And…I am happy for you'. She smiles at Morgause, an almost wistful expression on her face. 'Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?'

Gwen is with you while you wait for news. It is late at night and you have placed at least a dozen spells around the infirmary so that no one will discover what is going on down there. You're in what used to be Morgana's room, pacing anxiously up and down while Gwen sits on the bed, sharing your anxiety. You have no idea when she and Morgause became friends, or if they are, but there is no denying that she is worried. It is not helping your current state.

Eventually, Gwen leaves you to see what is happening and the empty room is almost welcoming. The continuous pacing is beginning to make you dizzy, but you can't stop. You can't stop thinking about what could go wrong. You don't know what you will do if you lose Morgause.

You think of Morgana, and you can't help wish that she was here right now. Does she know that she is about to become an aunt?

Kilgharrah enters you mind at one point to enquire on the proceedings, and you don't particularly care whether he is genially interested or if there is more behind it.

Finally, after agonising hours, Gwen returns, and her expression is both extremely relieved and almost dazzlingly happy. It takes you only moments to get down stairs.

Morgause is in your room, and as you stand in the door way, watching her gaze down at the small bundle in her arms as if she can't really believe it, you think that she has never looked more beautiful.

It is a girl, a small beautiful baby with a tuft of golden hair and bright piercing blue eyes. You know that the eyes change as they grow older, but you have a feeling that hers won't.

You are so wonderstruck that you can do no more than grin goofily and kiss both your wife and your baby and hug them both.

You call her Hope, because that is what she is, a flame of hope in a dark city in a darker time.

The next couple of years pass in relative peace. You work constantly to change Arthur's views on magic, and Morgause helps. A disease cured by a sorceress who wouldn't show her face. A dying man healed, a baby saved, little things that are helping to undermine Uther's law. The city is slowly beginning to doubt that all magic is evil, and hearing praise of the sorceress in the streets is definitely helping to change Arthur's mind. It was infuriating the king, and you can't help but feel thrilled that Arthur is slowly but surely turning from his father's side.

And then, just when everything seems to be going so well, Arthur finds out about your relationship with Morgause.

It is your fault really. Usually, you are careful to cover you tracks before you leave Camelot, but on this particular day Arthur gives you some time off and you are eager to see your family.

Family. Even now, two years after the birth of your daughter, you find it hard to believe that you have a family beyond your mother. Your mother had been possibly even happier than you when you had introduced Morgause to her, especially when she saw the depth of the love you have for each other. She hadn't been able to be there for the birth of her granddaughter, but as soon as Morgause was well enough you had travelled to your village.

You sit by the lake where you first realised you loved Morgause, watching your daughter play around in the grass. Morgause sits beside you, smiling as Hope plays. She looks younger than she did when you first met, and you think that motherhood has softened her, though you will never tell her that. She is still capable of killing you with a blade, even if you are more skilled than her when it comes to magic.

You lean over and kiss her softly. It is then that you hear the snap of a branch behind you. You spin, reacting just as quickly as Morgause and freeze when you see Arthur standing there. The crown prince looks more shocked than anything, his sword held straight in his hand simply by reflex. His eyes are fixed on Morgause, and there is anger there. You wonder whether he remembers that she saved his life, or whether he is only thinking about Morgana.

'Arthur!' Your voice is sharp; because your daughter is here and so is your wife and they are your world now.

Hope suddenly appears from behind you and Morgause grabs her around the waist and pulls her close. Hope sits on the ground, feeling the tense atmosphere, while Morgause crouches over her, her lips twisted in a snarl of warning. She looks like a lioness protecting her cub, and you pray for Arthur's sake that he will lower his sword, because you know she will react with the same ferocity if Arthur threatens her daughter.

Arthur blinks, his eyes wide as he looks from Morgause to Hope and then to you. You can see the understanding dawning in his eyes. Hope is a spitting image of her mother, except for her eyes, which are undoubtedly yours. Arthur is no fool, and it doesn't take a genius to work who Hope is.

To your relief, Arthur lowers his sword and sits on the ground, his hands held up in a gesture of peace. Morgause stops snarling and pulls Hope onto her lap, watching Arthur carefully.

Then Arthur turns to you and folds his arms. 'You have some explaining to do, Merlin'. It is a credit to Arthur's character that he is even willing to listen.

You tell him everything. You leave nothing out, except for Gwen's involvement. You don't want to betray her trust. But you tell him everything else. Arthur is harder to read than Gwen, and his expression doesn't waver when you tell him of your magic.

There is a long silence afterwards. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you are grateful when Morgause reaches out and takes your hand, lending unwavering support. Arthur watches the gesture carefully, a strange expression on his face. Eventually he stands and sheathes his sword. He looks between the three of you for a moment before saying slowly, 'I knew that you had magic, Merlin. I've known for a long time. Do you really think that I'm such an idiot to not notice it? You're not very good at hiding things. But…' he glances at Morgause. 'You saved my life too, didn't you?' At her nod, Arthur rubs a hand over his face, looking slightly exhausted. 'It seems I owe you both my life, several times. I just…why did you poison Morgana?'

You stiffen, closing your eyes as the guilty pain takes hold again. Neither you nor Morgause have managed to forgive yourselves, though you forgave each other long ago. 'I…' you look Arthur straight in the eye. 'I didn't know what to do. I was alone in a city with a secret I was having trouble keeping. I listened to the wrong person'.

Arthur looks at Morgause. 'And you've forgiven her for putting you in that position? Have you forgiven him for poisoning your…sister?' Arthur's shock at learning that Morgana and Morgause were sisters had been very obvious.

You both nod without hesitation, though it is Morgause who elaborates. 'Whether or not we have forgiven ourselves is another matter entirely'.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair. 'I still can't believe that you two are sisters. No wonder my father seemed to want you out of the city before the duel'.

Morgause smiles. 'There is a lot your father has not told you'.

Before Arthur can say anything else, Hope wriggles out of Morgause's grip and dashes towards Arthur. The crown prince raises his hands, startled by the sudden movement, only for Hope to throw herself at his legs. He lands ungracefully on his back with Hope's arms wrapped around his waist. The little girl leans up and whispers something in his ear and Arthur looks strangely excited.

Later, Arthur leaves, explaining that he has a lot to think about, but that he will keep their secret. Morgause leans against your shoulder; your arm wrapped around her from behind, and breathes a sigh of relief. Hope clambers onto her lap and Morgause strokes her hair fondly. 'What did you say to him?'

Hope smiles, that bright angelic smile, and says, 'I told him about his marriage to Gwen'. Hope inherited her mother's Seer abilities along with your instinctive magic.

When you return to Camelot, there is no one waiting to arrest you, no pyre being built in the square. More than anything, it is a sign that things are changing.

You are not there when Arthur is forced to kill a young druid girl in self-defence. Arthur was out hunting, alone, when the girl attacked him from behind. It was an accident; he was trying to fend her off with his sword when he tripped over just as she launched herself at him.

He returns looking like he is responsible for the death of millions. Uther claps him on the back and reassures him that she was just a druid girl, and that if caught she would have been executed anyway.

It is clearly not a comfort. In Arthur's mind, he killed a girl who was terrified that she would be captured and executed for her magic. Gwen is the only one who can make Arthur feel better, and at least the prince is bothered.

It is the day that Arthur is set firmly against Uther's law. But, though you don't know it, it is also the day that Camelot's fate, and Arthur's fate, is sealed. There was no way of knowing that the druid girl was not alone, and that the boy she loved witnessed her passing.

There was no one to tell you that that boy was Mordred.

The day that Arthur is crowned king is one of the happiest of your life. And not just because his first act is to abolish the law against magic. On that day, Morgause bares you a second child, a boy this time, whom you name after the father you never knew. He looks like you, but his hair is as fair as his mother's and his eyes are gold. The colour of magic.

Arthur welcomes you both, along with you children, into Camelot. You take up residence in the castle, and you can't help but laugh at the expressions on everyone's faces when they see Morgause. She is more beautiful than all the court ladies, and they know that. She doesn't look a day older than when you met her, while they have aged badly with unhealthy food and lack of exercise.

Arthur's reign is glorious, with Camelot quickly becoming one of the wealthiest kingdoms for miles. He is a kind and just king, far wiser than his father, and he goes to great effort to secure the safety of Camelot by making alliances with neighbouring kingdoms.

You stand on the balcony overlooking the city. You still can't believe that this is real, that you have all of this, and that everything is finally working out for you. When Morgause joins you and laughs, you realise that you are not the only one who can't believe what has happened.

The golden age lasts for two years. Then the Saxons come.

There is little to no warning. But suddenly the carefully built peace is shattered. The kingdom falls like someone has pulled the supporters out from underneath a building.

When Arthur gathers his knights, there are no armies sent from other kingdoms. They are too busy defending their own homes against the invaders.

You are terrified. Terrified because you didn't see this coming, and now everything you have worked for is crumbling about your ears. You are terrified because your children are two and five years old, and the innocent are always the first casualties of war. The very thought sends Morgause into a frenzy, and the windows of your chambers have been blown out more than once.

It is your suggestion to send them to the Fae, along with the last dragons in existence. The Fae accept your request of course, you and your wife are almost solely responsible for the return of the old ways. The dragon race is still perilously fragile, and the Fae welcome Kilgharrah and Aithusa without a second thought.

With your children out of harm's way, there is only Morgause to worry about. Of course, you never ask her to go with her children, because you know her well enough to know that she won't. She became as invested in Arthur's future in you after she first made the offer to teach you, and you know that Arthur stands a better chance if she is here to help.

And then, the fighting begins. Everything comes to head in one glorious battle on a vast barren plain. Sometimes, the sun reflects of the lake in the background, but you can't bring yourself to visit it. You have never been in a battle, not really, and the best word you would use to describe it is chaos. There is one charge, and then the rest is a blur of gleaming metal and blood and bodies. The ground below you becomes slick with blood and you struggle not to fall over the mounting number of the fallen. Screams rent the air and smoke fills your lungs. You can't see Arthur and you can't see Morgause. You catch sight of Gawain and Lancelot standing back to back. The hopelessness of the situation is overwhelming, and you want nothing more than to flee the scene. Your magic won't save Arthur here. There are simply too many to stop, and you haven't killed anyone with magic since that vow you made the day Morgause came into your life.

And then, through the dust and smoke and flailing bodies, you catch a glimpse of a dark haired, blue eyed young man, cutting through the knights without difficulty, making his way slowly but surely towards the centre of the carnage. A sense of foreboding fills you, but you can't reach him from where you are.

The battle lasts till nightfall and long into the darkness. Your limbs are heavy and your body is slick with sweat and blood. And then, without warning, everything stills. The fighting stops. You look around, trying to understand what has happened. And then you see them. On the very edge of the lake, balancing on the shifting sand, two figures raining blow after blow down on each other. One is Arthur. The other is the same man you saw earlier. And then you know. The man is Mordred, and this is the end that Kilgharrah spoke of so long ago.

You hear your name called from further to your left and turn. Horror and relief close your throat in equal measure when you see Morgause, attempting to reach you over the countless bodies, supporting an injured Gwen with an arm around her shoulder. You're not really surprised that Gwen didn't stay in Camelot like you all thought. Gwen is bleeding from her thigh, and Morgause has a long gash down her arm, yet they are alive. The three of you seem to be the only survivors. Bile rises in your throat in the face of so much death and pain but you cross to them despite your shaky limbs. You heal Gwen as Morgause tends to her own injures before you all turn to Arthur and Mordred. They are but a few metres away now and you want to interfere but you don't. This was a confrontation spoken of at the very beginning of time, and you learnt long ago not to try to change fate.

The two men are clearly exhausted, yet they continue to fight each other relentlessly. If Arthur knows the reason for Mordred's hate, he doesn't show it.

And then Arthur slips on the blood soaked soil and Mordred lunges just as his guard falls. Mordred's scream of victory as his blade pierces Arthur's abdomen is cut off as Arthur's own sword impales him in the chest. Mordred dies as you run forwards.

Gwen pulls Arthur's head into her lap, sobbing openly as she catches sight of the wound. There is no healing an injury of the magnitude, and she knows it. Together, you manage to lift Arthur into the shallows of the lake, washing away the blade the coats his once gleaming armour. Surprisingly, Arthur looks peaceful as death slips like a blanket over his shoulders. He reaches up and cups Gwen's cheek gently, but his last words are directed at you. 'Merlin, in spite of your moments of complete idiocy, I couldn't have had a better friend. I hope you know that'.

You nod, a lump in your throat, and watch as the light slowly leaves your friend's eyes. You turn and bury your face in Morgause's shoulder as Gwen begins to openly wail. Arthur has fallen unconscious, but his death will come, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

It seems like hours, but it is really only a few minutes, until you hear the sound of a ship gliding onto the shore. You lift your head to look. It is a small ship, with a curved prow and a long narrow deck, strewn with embroidered pillows and a blanket of the finest silk. A woman stands at the prow, a woman in a long silvery cloak and a pale blue dress. And when she lifts the hood back, you are not really surprised to see that it is Morgana. She looks better than you have ever seen her, her dark hair thick and glossy as is tumbles around her shoulders, her beautiful pale, angular face glowing in the light of the moon. Her eyes are bright with tears as she looks on Arthur, but there is a kind smile curving her lips. 'Arthur Pendragon still has a journey to complete. His tale is not yet finished, for there will come a time when this world will need him'.

You don't quite understand her, but her smile is reassuring and at her biding you pick up your friend and place him gently in the boat. Morgana steps down and embraces Gwen tightly, having clearly missed her childhood friend, before helping her step into the boat. Gwen immediately takes Arthur's head in her lap, but her face is dry. She seems to have taken some comfort from Morgana's words, though you can't see how Arthur's tale can't be over.

Morgana then steps up to Morgause and there is a slight pause. Morgana looks her sister up and down, noticing the slight differences in her. Her expression is no longer rigid and cold, but open, and the emotions on her face are extremely clear in the moonlight. Her face is full of love and guilt, and you can tell that Morgana is a little taken aback by the level of her sister's pain and guilt. Then the former ward of Camelot steps forward and embraces her sister tightly. Morgause wraps her arms around her sister without hesitation, holding the younger woman as if she would slip away the moment she released her. Morgana buries her face in Morgause's neck, seeking the familiar warmth of her sister. She remembers little of her illness after being poisoned, but she does remember that Morgause was the only thing keeping her anchored to this world.

They hold each other for a long time before Morgause finally steps away. You hear what she says before she does, a mere whisper in Morgana's ear. 'I'm sorry'.

Morgana presses her fingers against Morgause's lips, her eyes shining. 'There is nothing to be sorry for, but I forgive you anyway'.

Morgause steps into the boat, sitting behind Gwen and placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. Then Morgana turns to you. You expect disgust, or at least anger, but she steps forward and hugs you tightly. It is only then that you really understand how much you missed her. She steps away after a moment and speaks before you can get the words out. 'I forgave you a long time ago Merlin'. She looks you up and down then, and says. 'You've definitely improved since I last saw you'. There is something of the Morgana you remember in her cheeky smile and you laugh, greatly relieved.

As the boat sails on a soft wind away from the shore and the scene of a battle that cost hundreds of lives, you realise that the shore is ringed with people. You can't see their faces, and you don't know who they are, but there are hundreds of them. You realise, with a jolt in your heart, that they are farewelling the greatest king who ever lived.

You know that this scene will be passed down from generation to generation. A surreal boat sailing away on a calm lake. A man standing at the prow, guiding the way. A heroic king lying among precious blankets with three beautiful women surrounding him. This moment will become legend.

And that is a good thing. Because when Arthur is needed once more, the people will remember him. Whether or not they remember you, your wife, her sister and the queen is another matter. They will remember that Arthur Pendragon sailed into a mist, to an isle that can never be found, with a fair angel, a dark haired beauty, a dark queen, and a tall man.

Arthur's story will always be told. The details will blur and the characters will be twisted for the benefit of others, but the truth will always be lurking underneath. Until the day he is needed he will remain on Avalon, and you will have your family.

Arthur will be remembered as the great king who united the kingdoms under one barrier. You will be remembered as a great wizard, though for some reason people will remember you as an old man.

if any of you made it to the end, there are some thank you cookies over in the corner. it was a lot longer than I originally intended.

please let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome, but please no flames. Please review!