mossofash:
► closed starter → @the-lady-morgana
It was never his desire to betray his guardian ; to go behind Gauis’ back in such a way. In fact, the closer he got to the Lady Morgana’s rooms, the faster his heart began to race ; shirt long-lost to the sweat that seemed to be pouring out of him. Long fingers twisting and pulling at each other ; throat dry and scratchy. His usual bravado a shivery tremor, and with a tentative hand ( much unlike himself ) he knocked against the thick wood of her door. Merlin felt uncharacteristically dainty ; frail ( all those things that Arthur frequently called him ; names that made Merlin want to truly show his strength, to let the magic that surged and breathed within him loose. To show the beauty of it. )
Vulnerable ; he was vulnerable. Naked, and weak ; unsure and unsteady. There was no stability in this moment, no guarantee of the effect. He sucked in a shaky breath ; wiping damp palms on the itchy wool of his trousers.
It was anger that had boiled and festered inside of him when Gaius had first ordered him to keep the truth of his nature from Morgana ; for who else could he trust in such a land? Not even Guinevere was as sympathetic as the Lady. But then, when the revelation of her magic came to light ; became something he had to fight, Merlin’s heart had clenched and squeezed ; the pain of his hypocrisy, of such a lie, to keep this from her was tremendous and overbearing, and he found himself deciding to go against Gaius’ advice. He must reach out to her. To reveal who he was ; so she could ( hopefully, possibly ) do the same with him.
“Lady Morgana?” Voice meek, gentle in its questioning. ( If only Arthur could see him now. ) He rapped another soft rhythm along the front of her door. Stomach resting in his throat ; knees weak, and breath short. He wanted to beg ; to drop to the ground and beg her forgiveness, her acceptance, to repent for his lies and masquerade when she faces the same struggles that he does. If not worse being the adopted daughter to Uther. Merlin straightened his shoulders, however ; chin held high as he awaited her permission to enter.
Since the night she had caused her drapes to set alight, Morgana had been having more trouble sleeping than normal. Her nightmares had always been something of a problem, and though they seemed to be steadily growing worse, Gaius’ tonics had so far been able to help her at least a little. But now there was another reason why sleep was hard for her to come by. Fear. It was one thing to be afraid of the nightmares that haunted her, but now she was afraid of something there wasn’t a cure for. Herself.
She knew it was magic, of that she had no doubt. She wished it wasn’t the case, but it was. There was no other explanation for the things that had happened. It wasn’t the magic itself which scared her, of course. She had never held with Uther’s belief that magic was an evil, but the fact that she had magic? She, who lived under Uther’s roof and had been his ward since her father passed? That terrified her. It was easy enough for people to say that the King thought of her as a daughter, and maybe it was true. She’d certainly always had a way of being able to get around him. But this was magic, and she knew as well as anyone, and indeed perhaps better than most, how much he hated magic. If he knew the truth about her? She was certain he would barely hesitate before sentencing her to the same fate as befell all others.
If she knew how to control it, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so scared. She was constantly worrying that she would make a mistake and be found out. She needed a teacher, someone who could help her, but given Uther’s laws, no one was foolish enough to advertise themself as a practitioner of magic, least of all to the King’s ward.
It was such thoughts as these which kept her up at night, and were the reason why she was sat in a chair by the window when she heard the gentle knock at the door, and the famiiar voice which followed. Curious as to why Merlin would be calling at this hour, she rose, grabbing a robe from the end of her bed as she passed and pulling it on over her nightgown.
“Merlin,” she greeted, opening the door part way. Her brow furrowed as she took in his disheveled appearance, and, after casting a quick glance down the hallway, she opened her door wider to allow him inside. If anyone saw her allowing a servant into her room at this hour, it would spell trouble. Not so much for her, but for Merlin. He shouldn’t have been at her door so late, but the fact that he was and looked in such a state concerned her. He may be Arthur’s serving boy, but he was also a friend. “What’s wrong?”
