The Future of Camelot

Plots and Old Friends

Morgause loved her sister. Until Morgana, there was no one to share secrets or ideas with. There was no one to listen to her brilliance. But Morgana questioned her methods too often, which was potentially dangerous. Morgause couldn't always trust her to do everything exactly as she told her, so she had to use the mandrake root on her. It pained her to do it, but it had been the only way.

Perhaps Morgana harbored some grudge. It could be reasonable, Morgause supposed. To have one's will taken away was not something the victim and the perpetrator often bonded over after the spell was broken. It wasn't as cruel as Morgause could have made it, though! She had used a weaker concoction which allowed the victim to retain their soul and will. The spell only made Morgana do everything Morgause said. It wasn't that bad.

But Merlin having magic, that was new. All Morgause remembered was him being a meddlesome fool who happened to have good luck concerning the protection of Arthur. It was hard to imagine that that boy killed Morgana. Morgause was not very surprised to hear that she was a high priestess. Morgause had known long before she even started tutoring Morgana that her sister had immense power. It was strange that she never sensed Merlin's magic, though. The question again occured to her - why was Morgana traveling with him? She knew they were also living together with the betraying servant girl Gwen and some other people from Camelot.

Why though? She didn't know everything that had happened, but Morgana had told Morgause the facts. From what she said, Morgause couldn't imagine ever talking in friendly tones to people who did to her what Arthur and his followers did to Morgana.

"Poor, dear sister," said Morgause to herself. "They are trying to corrupt you to their way of thinking. They want you dead!"

When she had magic, Morgause could have transmitted this thought to her sister's head, but there was no magic under her control now. If she could only get it back . . .

How had magic returned to Morgana? She hadn't said. But Merlin hadn't lost his magic over the years, so perhaps other things hadn't, either.

0O0O0O0

"Aithusa!" exclaimed Morgana, running up to her friend. The dragon watched her approach, its face alighting with recognition. She let out a squawk, then bounded into Morgana's outstretched arms.

"Morgana," Merlin said, sounding muffled for Morgana's ears, which were buried in the dragon scales.

Morgana heard the voice and turned to Merlin. He was grinning ear to ear.

"What is it?" asked Morgana, withdrawing from the embrace and resting her back against Aithusa's grown chest.

"I didn't say anything," he informed her giddily.

"Ai - " started Morgana, turning to the white dragon. A giant head - much bigger than she remembered - leveled itself to hers.

"Hello, Morgana." The voice sounded so much like Merlin's, Morgana hadn't thought for a moment it could be anyone but the wizard.

"You speak!"

"Merlin taught me," said Aithusa. "He healed my voice." Her tone was slightly ghoulish to hear coming from anyone other than Emrys. Morgana supposed that she hadn't ever heard anyone but Merlin speak. The thought depressed her.

Merlin walked up to Aithusa and gently stroked her. She leaned into him. This brought up another of Morgana's questions.

"How do you trust him?" Merlin grinned at Aithusa, then at Morgana.

"I'm not just Emrys," he admitted. "My father was Balinor."

"Balinor . . . " said Morgana blankly.

"Oh, right. You were gone by then," realized Merlin. "He was a Dragonlord. The last, actually."