Chapter Text
"Merlin, just… trust me okay? Morgause is fixing things for all of us, you won’t have to live in fear anymore! Uther deserves to die, you know he does. His death is in defence of the realm. Killing a murderer before he can hurt anybody else."
"A necessary sacrifice."
"Yes! Yes. Just… go to sleep, Merlin. Everything will be better by the time you wake up."
"And who else is a necessary sacrifice? The knights?"
"No— or, just the ones who won’t cooperate—"
"Arthur?"
"No! He’ll understand. We’ll make him understand."
"Yes, I’m sure he’ll be really understanding after you kill his father. How well do you really know Morgause? Do you really think she’ll be satisfied leaving the only heir to the throne of Camelot alive? Fuck, I— I can’t even have a proper conversation right now, I’m so tired and my head feels like it’s being split open."
"Merlin… this is our chance to be free. We can work everything else out after you just take it."
"Morgana, please, I—"
"What?"
"I’m sorry. You’re right. I— have some water. You must be thirsty."
"…Thank you, Merlin. I’m… sorry too. This all happened so fast, but I promise. Everything will work out in the end."
"Yeah."
Merlin felt sick. Actually, he had already thrown up, twice. After a year of searching, they had finally found Morgana, and now it was only a matter of time before his life in Camelot, or indeed his life much of anywhere, came to a violent end.
Gwen had given him a talking to when it had first started; Arthur and Gaius had too, though they had never really thought anything of it other than a one sided infatuation. Merlin had brushed all of their concerns away. This… precise situation could hardly be what they had been worried about, but nevertheless Merlin was really starting to feel the pressure of being a simple peasant boy having scorned a noble lady. In a spectacularly devastating fashion.
The question now was, was he going to be executed as a sorcerer or as an attempted murderer? Morgana never really got much of a sense of how powerful Merlin really was, he had never told her of the Sidhe or of Nimueh, or of anything much more dramatic than dropping branches on bandits. Whether this was out of shame, or fear, or humility… Merlin wasn’t altogether sure himself. But he had always implicitly trusted that she would never confess this secret, no matter how fractured the relationship between them became. The Morgana he knew had streaks of cruelty, but also a rigid sense of justice. Perhaps sometimes a bit too rigid.
Worse than the fear, now, was the guilt. Every time he caught a glimpse of her, he remembered the Morgana from the last time he had seen her; the sight of her terrified, betrayed eyes. The sound of her gasping, wet breaths and he held her in his arms, knowing it to be the last time he would do so.
All in all, Merlin had more than half a mind to simply flee.
But somehow… though perhaps it was only some morbid curiosity, he just needed to know. Needed to talk to her. Merlin wasn’t quite sure what he wanted, or what he deserved. Forgiveness, or condemnation.
When Morgana had finally called for him and told him that he was forgiven, he had wept shamelessly. He forgave her too; he was always a little prone to getting caught up in the moment. It occurred to him only later that this was… an entirely bizarre reaction. She should scream at him, give him the cold shoulder, weep and admit the sins that weighed on her, threaten to have him executed. Possibly all within five minutes; a new record, certainly, but the circumstances would warrant such.
But she was so eerily put together. It was only natural that when Merlin caught her sneaking out into the night, he followed.
He ducked hastily behind a tree as Morgana shifted her head slightly, snapping a twig as he did so. It was usually funny when he was on hunts, but he was somewhat regretting wilfully ignoring Arthur’s attempts to teach him stealth in order to piss him off now.
But Morgana’s footsteps calmly continued, unworried.
He stopped and peered in on the scene from the cover of the trees as the sounds of horses approached, managing to glimpse (to his disappointment) exactly who had been expecting. Morgause, carrying… something, in her arms.
"Sorry you had to wait - there was much to discuss." The words were soft and hard to make out from across the clearing. Merlin began to creep forward, glimpsing Morgana holding out her hands for the bundle in Morgause’ arms as he went.
"Thank you for bringing her." Morgana kissed the bundle, smiling down at it. "Did you miss me, little raven?" That wasn’t… no. "And your visit was successful?"
Merlin caught slips of the conversation as he crept closer still, though the encroaching armies suddenly seemed far less important to him.
"Cenred’s army ride for Camelot on my command." Each of Morgana’s little shushes or coos were a knelling bell, drowning all other thoughts from Merlin’s mind.
"—Merlin suspects me." At this, Merlin’s finally managed to dredge up a smidge of self preservation. Shit. While busy overanalysing Morgana’s mood, he had managed to overlook that Morgana was uncannily perceptive too; and unfortunately, knew him quite well.
"Has he told Arthur?"
"Not yet, but he will."
"Well, then, we must stop him."
"That will not be difficult." Merlin could admit that it was a tad hypocritical to complain about Morgana wanting to kill him, but it did still hurt just a teensy bit.
"Why?"
"Because he’s already here." Merlin bit his lip, heart rabbiting in his chest.
It was time to run.
He stood, unsteadily, his eyes flicking between the two sisters intently, planning a route that might not end with a fireball in his back.
"Did you really think I was that stupid, Merlin?" Morgana asked, smirking. It was as good a cue as any, but Merlin’s legs locked involuntarily as he caught sight of a little face, wrapped in blankets in Morgana’s arms. Dark hair and blue eyes, curiously squinting over at the unfamiliar figure before them.
"Is that… Morgana, is that ours?" Merlin brought a hand up to his face, appalled as his eyes already began warming with tears. Morgana’s expression only flashed with anger.
"She’s not our anything," she seethed, placing a hand protectively over the baby. "I carried her, I birthed her, I raised her. You don’t get to be part of this - you destroyed that chance when you poisoned me."
Merlin did let a tear fall then, clamping his hand more forcefully over his mouth to try and prevent himself making more of a fool of himself than he already was, and right before he was about to die too. It was all just too much.
"What’s her name?" He said, finally.
Morgana flared her nostrils, eyes starting to glow, and Merlin had just raised his hands in front of him to shield himself when, all of a sudden, he was opening his eyes. When did his eyes close?
He stared blankly at the bright blue sky through the canopy, a blinding pain in the back of his head, wondering what he should have done differently.
He could barely pay attention to the interrogation that followed; why did he continue to serve Arthur so faithfully despite practicing magic, why had he always distrusted Morgause ever since Morgana had first dragged him out to meet her.
Morgause still held the baby in her arms, as if taunting him, and after she left and the Serkets finally came, Merlin was not even thinking of the encroaching invasion by Cenred; just that he would die not knowing his daughter’s name.
By the time he had made it back to Camelot, he had pulled himself together somewhat. Destroyed the… gross, thing that was driving Uther mad, survived Arthur’s outrage. Just when he had started to calm himself enough to begin actually figuring out what he was going to do about the impending army, he was being pulled roughly into an alcove by Morgana.
It was alarmingly nostalgic.
"I don’t know how you managed to escape," said Morgana, her usual brusqueness in full force. "But I do know one thing; if you breathe a word of what you saw, I will make your life a very short and painful one."
Well, this was progress. He was being threatened; which meant Morgana was not about to stab him to death in this little alcove.
"Morgana— just, wait," Merlin gnawed his lip a moment, deciding to push his luck after all. "Tell me her name. Please."
Morgana scoffed at him, her grip tightening painfully on his arm. "I should have known you’d turn into a sentimental mess at this sort of thing. You know, most fathers would be thrilled to just drop their children off and not have to worry about it anymore."
"I know." Merlin stood up straighter, letting himself tower over her just a little as he held her gaze firmly. "That’s why I can’t… I’m not going to be like him, Morgana."
Morgana averted her gaze, the anger slipping from her face for just a moment.
"You’re not. You aren’t— like your father, or… mine. But it doesn’t matter."
Merlin was silent for a moment. "Why didn’t you bring her with you? Uther would forgive you for an out of wedlock child, surely; return of the prodigal daughter and all." Morgana only shook her head.
"No, it’s not that. She— she wouldn’t be safe here."
Merlin frowned. "Safe here? You don’t mean—"
"Yes," Morgana said, her jaw tightening. "She’s just a baby, but she’s already started… manifesting."
Merlin raised his hands up to clasp over his mouth, trying to stop himself from bawling again in as many days.
"Oh gods. Oh, that’s," he slowly lowered his hands, revealing the grin threatening to break his face open. "That’s amazing."
Morgana only quirked a brow at him. "If the invasion succeeds, Morvydd will never have to worry about being persecuted again. She can be free."
"Morvydd?" He said, reverently, largely ignoring her. He smiled softly. "It’s a beautiful name, Morgana." Morgana only scowled at him.
"Merlin?" Came a voice from behind, and Merlin started so hard he almost fell over. There then came a shocked, "—Oh! My lady!"
"Hello, Gwen," Morgana said, smile frozen onto her face from behind Merlin, as Merlin span around with a horrified blush on his cheeks. Gwen looked blank for only a moment, before breaking out in a giggle.
"Catching up on lost time, I see. Don’t let me interrupt you," she said, lightly.
"No, no, it’s not—"
"Thank you Gwen," Morgana interjected, giggling in turn and easing her smile. Damn these courtly ladies and their flawless masks.
"Please don’t tell me your sister is bringing our daughter with her while laying siege to Camelot," Merlin muttered, at length, still watching Gwen’s retreating back. Morgana only gave him a slightly pained expression in return.
She pushed him away and stalked off, leaving Merlin alone with only the imprint of her nails, and a single name, spinning still in his mind.
Morvydd.