Disclaimer: "Merlin" is a series based on the varying legends of King Arthur, and is an original series belonging to BBC and all characters contained herein are under copyright to the previously named. They are used here at the author's interpretation and for entertainment purposes only.

Greetings From the Author: Spoilers for #2-3 'The Nightmare Begins' If you haven't seen it yet, please go watch it, you are missing out on some awesome Morgana centric greatness.

Inspired by the all too brief scene of Morgana and Mordred in Aglain's tent. This is from Mordred's point of view. At first I wrote him as more childlike in his words and thoughts, but then it occurred to me that he seems pretty intelligent and adult even if he is, at best, thirteen or so. Maybe younger than that.

Another first person one-off/one-shot to be a sort of companion piece to 'Sweet Child of Mine' which was first person from Morgana's point of view. Anyway, I hope you like it as much as I did. (Not my fic so much as the Morgana/Mordred goodness/darkness)

For anyone that is unfamiliar (or less of a dork than I am :p) 'fae' is another name for the faerie folk. Like Queen Mab if you know about her. Also for those that never saw Mordred's first episode last year, the druid name for 'Merlin' is 'Emrys'.

Also if you are getting a slight Oedipidal vibe, there's a chance it isn't accidental. ;) Which is why this fiction is rated "T"

Enjoy, and remember . . . keep the magic secret or the Great Dragon will eat you, and maybe call you a witch too.


Forevermore


Blinding wall between us,

Melts away and leaves us alone again.

Humming, haunted somewhere out there.

You're not alone.

No matter what they told you, you're not alone.

I'll be right beside you, forevermore.

As we lay in silent bliss, I know you remember me.

I long to be like you.

There's room enough two.

I'm coming for you.

~ Evanescence


I don't know why others fear me. Even the other druids sometimes watch me warily, whispering about where I come from and what I really am. They'd found me alone in the woodlands when I was an infant, I've heard the tale many times by now, and there is a rumor that I may hold fae blood. That I was left to be found by the druids after one of the fae queens had made me with her powerful magic. It's a ridiculous story, but I'm older now and I care much more about where I'm going than where I came from.

It is the only thing I care about . . . apart from her.

She who reaches through the dark haze I feel around my mind. I can close my eyes and remember every detail. The long silken hair, black as midnight, eyes the green of the forest and face pale and glowing like starlight. Her name is the rare smile on my lips. Morgana.

I have found my people again, we are never gone from each other too long. After the incident with the guards from Camelot, we had scattered and I ran in the forest for a few days, but finally we all came together as the magic binding us to one another called out. 'My people' I call them, and I do feel at home as we travel from camp to camp, but are they really 'my' people? I like them and they are similar enough to me, but there is ever that small piece of 'different' around me. I feel it in my dreams, foggy edges whispering words of power that had made me scream from my bedroll as a toddler, but I've gotten accustomed to them now that the years have gone on. They had been nightmares once, now they are just dreams and I accept them. After Morgana had left me, I found the dark side of my dreaming again, bolting upright in the night to call out her name. I cringe at how boyish and child-like I sound when that happens.

"But you are a child." The others would say, but they don't understand my mind, how much older I am inside.

Shaking in the small tent I share with two other boys, I close me eyes, letting the darkness behind my lids swallow me. It is there I see her again, as she was that day.


I'd felt her in my dreams, the fear in her mind racing as my own pulse had begun to beat in kind. I wasted no time in rousing from my bedroll and going to Aglain. He would help her where I could not. The others thought me too young and there wasn't time to stage my escape in defiance.

I was not allowed to see her when they'd brought her back, and I bore that fact with silent seething. The next day she was awake, scared and confused. I could do nothing but watch, sneaking to the flap of Aglain's tent and looking within as my now-dead mentor had been tending to her. Peeking through the small slit offered in the fabric, my eyes widened as my breath caught in my throat. She was as beautiful as I had remembered the first time I'd seen her. Her red cloak was dirtied but seemed to hang about her like a queen. Once she regained consciousness, I listened to Morgana and Aglain talking, I heard the fear in her voice and I longed to touch her, but I held my spot, wanting to choose the right moment to make myself known.

My mentor called her by name, and her voice changed tone to one of demand.

"Who told you my name?"

There was not even a breath of space before I spoke. "I did."

I'm sure the look on my face belied my love-struck feelings, when I opened the tent flap and walked in. Hardening myself against them was difficult and the best I managed was a straight mouth. My eyes told the truth of it of their own volition.

She looked at me in surprise for a time, recognition dawning. "You."

It had been too hard to read her face, and when I looked into her thoughts, they were in as much of a cacophony as my own. We did not break eye-contact until Aglain's calm voice pulled her from me, and for a flicker of time I almost hated him, but the feeling faded.

"Mordred was able to sense your distress, with his mind." Aglain's face was as kind and calm as it always had been, but Morgana had paid him little attention as her gaze turned back to me.

I found myself hoping it was awe in her eyes, not fear. The slight grin of self pride pulled at my mouth, and I let it, reaching out to her gently with my thoughts. 'Hello, Morgana.'

"Did you hear that?" She asked of Aglain, turning to him for only a second as she faced me again, eyes intense on my face. "How did you do that?"

Aglain answered before I did. "We don't always need words to speak to one another."

He was right, sometimes we need actions to say what words cannot, and so I walked closer to sit on the cot beside her. She didn't flinch, and my skin prickled pleasantly at the nearness. "Now I can take care of you, like you did me."

I didn't know if she would refuse my care or not, she's very strong willed. Seconds had felt like hours as I waited pensively for her words, but there weren't any. Instead she smiled at me and my blood went singing through my veins as her eyes softened into mine, green melting with blue. Not even Aglain had smiled at me in such a way, and I couldn't help but think if a smile could be the moon and stars, they would belong to her. I smiled back, the action letting out a contented sigh so quiet I still wonder if anyone even heard it.

Aglain stood and excused himself. "Do not stay long, she needs more rest." He nodded at me and was gone.

Morgana relaxed and the smile had not left her face. "How did you know it was me you were sensing?"

"I . . . I recognize you; your aura in my mind. It's bright green, like your eyes." I ducked my head, pink blossomed in my cheeks and she laughed lightly, but it was accepting in its sound.

"Is yours blue then, like your eyes?" She watched me still, a merry light playing in her gaze and my heart swelled under her attention.

'It is hard to see our own aura.' I answered with my mind, and instead of shock there is interest. To dare the breach I reach for her hand, and my palm warms as she wraps her long fingers around my own. She must have felt it as well, the crackling connection between us.

"Please, show me how you do that, speak without speaking." That demand was gentle, but I obeyed and did my best.

She did not flinch as I neared close enough that I could have been sitting in her lap had I wished it. Had I dared it, more like. Morgana makes me feel like the shy boy I desperately don't want to be, but I cannot hold the affect she has on me against her. It is not such a terrible feeling to bask in her consideration.

Her perfect lips curled tenderly, taking my other hand so both of them are clasped. "Go ahead, I'm not afraid."

The encouragement edges me to the precipice and I let myself fall, going deeper into her mind. There was a gasp from her but then she closed her eyes and traveled with me. Telepathy is an easy enough thing, even those only lightly touched with 'the gift' can manage it with little training, but Morgana didn't need to know that. With her trust in me I could drink in her thoughts without resistance and bind myself closer to her. She is not afraid of me, not wary, and it is refreshing beyond belief.

I remember letting out my own gasp at the sharp tingle of her energy as it coursed from her thoughts and into mine.

'Concentrate on the words you want to say and . . ." I did not get to finish.

'Like this?' There is the image of a playful smirk, even though her mouth was held in a tight line of concentration.

I grinned, sharing in her newfound pride. That she could so quickly take enjoyment from the very magic she had most recently feared, was mightily impressive to me. It still is. 'Yes, Lady Morgana.'

Her voice broke our thought-sharing. Apparently she was not so comfortable that she was willing to carry a whole conversation in silence. In time I'm sure she will be.

"You never told me your name, and yet you know mine. That seems most unfair, do you not think so? Is your name as Aglain said, or is that yet a secret from me." There was no reproach in her voice, only a lightly teasing note.

I answered her aloud, not wanting to press the matter. "No, my lady, he was right. My name is Mordred."

"Thank you, young Mordred, and you need not call me 'my lady' You and your people have offered me aid, I am a guest here. Call me Morgana, as we shall be friends. Wouldn't you like that?" Her eyes looked sparkling in the sun coming through the open-flapped tent and I was lost to them.

"Yes." I could not help but feel shyness in my cheeks still. In her presence I feel ever so much a child, and though it should irritate me to feel that way, it does not. Instead I feel alight and comforted by her proximity. It is as if being with her has filled some hole inside me I never realized I had.

She had begun to grow weary, I could see it on her face, and reluctantly I told her to rest. With one last smile, I left her, bending down without much thought to give her a kiss on her brow. Morgana was surprised but I could feel that she was as pleased by the contact as I was. As I had lain in my bedroll that night, thoughts of a future spent with her brought wondrous dreams, and I slept more content than I had in years.

But it was not to be.


Now I sit in the tent, looking around at the few other sleeping boys, like me and yet not. Morgana and I have a strong connection and I can't find that with the others, and I don't seek to. We are special to each other and I wish to keep it that way.

Aglain is dead and Morgana is back in the gilded cage of Camelot. I feel the cold stab of grief in my chest and whimper, but I fight back the tears with determination. I won't be the sobbing child, clinging to the robes of a sheltering adult. That isn't my path, but wherever it goes, it will be with her.

Emrys helped her, of that I am sure, but in the end he is loyal to the crest of the Pendragon, loyal to Prince Arthur. I can recall that he helped me once too, but that matters not when I think of what he took from me. He and his evil father stole Morgana away, took the only mother I have ever known, and killed my mentor in the process.

I hate them! I feel the muscles in my face pulling to create a snarl, and I barely contain the noise that would go with the expression. One day mother and son will be re-united and the Pendragons will pay for ever daring to take her from me.

Insects chirp outside and their song reaches my ears. I have stopped to listen and I control my erratic breathing, shutting my eyes against the flashes of red.

Without warning, I feel a presence in my mind and my back stiffens.

'Mordred? Can you hear me? I'm not sure this will work with so far a distance.'

It's her!

My blankets feel like they are restraining me, keeping from her and I wrench them off, dashing outside the tent where the cool forest air will relax me.

'Yes! Yes! I can hear you!' I cry out to her with my consciousness, and I feel her wince. I was being too strong and I'm worried I hurt her, but then she is back again. Laughter in her mind.

'You have to be less excited for now, I'm not used to this.'

'I'm sorry.'

'No, it's fine. I'm excited too.'

'Not about that, well I am but . . . I mean for leaving you in the forest. I was just scared and the guards were right behind me and I panicked and . . .' My thoughts wind off into gibberish and her mind reaches out to soothe me.

'Shh, quiet little one. It's alright. I would be devastated if you had come to some harm because of me. I am so very sorry for Aglain.' Her affection and her regret for me fill my belly with a buzzing sensation.

'Your voice is like The Goddess.' I sigh into the ether without thinking and immediately wish I could take it back. I sound like I am besotted with her! As I think more though, perhaps I am, and would that be so bad?

'Would you tell me of The Goddess? I've very little experience with Her.' Even crossing the distance between us with thoughts, she is gentle and calm. She took to telepathy like a bird to flight and I'm amazed with her.

I smile within my thoughts so she can see it. 'You want me to tell you because you are having trouble going to sleep. That's alright. I can't sleep either.'

The returning smile is as bright as the moon in the confines of my mind. 'We are like souls entwined.'

As we talk of The Goddess and her ways, I can't help but agree with her. Morgana and Mordred, the kindred spirits, a bond as strong as that of Mother and Son. Forevermore. Tonight when we have left each other, I know her voice will be the lullaby that sings me to sleep, and for now I'm quite happy to play the child.

- end