Another plot-less songfic I've been wanting to do for ages. But I absolutely love The Wombats. If you never heard about them go check them out.

Anyway I don't own Merlin BBC nor do I own the song Our Perfect Disease. Those are respectively owned by Shine Ltd, BBC and The Wombats.

Story dedicated to all Merlin fans and especially to those Merlin x Morgana lovers.


Our Perfect Disease

Morgana Pendragon was beautiful. No, she wasn't, she is beautiful. Men fell to their knees and women wept in despair. She had eyes coloured like the young growth on the tips of pine leaves; hair that fell like midnight waterfalls and her skin was pale as alabaster.

Merlin was, well Merlin. He wasn't the typical handsome man one would meet. Not with his ears at least. The only woman who would love those would be his mother. He had eyes like infinite whirlpools and blue as the ocean. His cheekbones were defined as if carved from white marble.

/\/\

We don't admit it but we've never seen eye to eye, my hobby's moaning and yours is making money

She was a noble.

He was a servant.

Beauty was not everything. She wasn't only a pretty thing to look at in court, she wanted to be involved in court. She wanted to help the oppressed. She wanted freedom.

Magic was not everything. He wasn't only a servant that polished armour, he wanted to be the protector too. To protect in his own way. He wanted freedom

She found something in him for her.

He found something in her for him.

And for that one small moment in time everything was perfect, in perfect harmony. Their lips crashed into each others, fitting like lock and key.

Secret meetings at night in unused rooms, where it was only the two of them together hidden in the dark with only moonlight to halo their entwined bodies.

Little glances during council assembly only the two of them could understand.

It was like only they were the only two left in such a gloomy world.

It's always a shock when old friends pass by, but with you it's no death in the family

But all good things eventually come to an end, don't they?

Let's not talk about hate when there's hell to pay for my cowardice and your bad timing

Why? Why? Why did he have to do this? Why was he the one to give her the poison? To let it creep through her veins. Was this his punishment from diverging from his destiny? From not correcting the mistake he had known for so long. Why couldn't he tell her the truth? Was he really the protector?

Why? Why? Why did she trust him? Were they not friends? Did being lovers not mean anything to him? Were all those nights nothing to him? What did she do to deserve this? To have her breaths become rasps and fire burn through her veins. Was it because she had magic? Was she truly that of a monster?

We don't admit it but we've never seen eye to eye, and it's not through a lack of trying

It was the perfect disease we had, something to argue and scream about

She hated him. She loathed him. He betrayed her.

He tried so much to accept the new her. But he couldn't.

Only hateful eyes filled with contempt existed. Yet it always faded away when it was only the two of them.

Who do I see about contracting it back, and locking it somewhere it can't get ripped out

It was the perfect disease we had, and in its absence lies a painful fact

No matter how much they hated each other, they always some how stole kisses and touches. Whether if it was wanted or not.

They found themselves pulling at each other's laces and buttons, letting the fabric fall from their bodies as two became one. They would explore each other. Mouths would tease and hands explored. They would sometimes whisper in each others ears. Promising to pretend in the darkness they were only two people with no hate, nor love.

When it came light, the vicious cycle would begin again. A cycle like a turning windmill producing no grain and only creating creaking sounds that nobody wanted.

We all need someone to drive us mad

/\/\

Ooh ooh ooh ooh oh, ooh ooh ooh ooh oh, wooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh oh, ooh ooh ooh ooh oh, wooh

/\/\

I didn't say it but you never were the honest type, you tried to fabricate a bed-time story

She is a liar. A bloody good one in fact. Her lies created fantastic illusions, so much so she can have anyone wrapped around her pinky.

He is a liar. He could become another person with that skill alone. It was the perfect disguise for what he needed to do.

And now I miss those games we had of Jekyll and Hyde, ever since the day that we parted company

There was the idiotic servant facade and damsel in distress mask. But that was it. Only an illusion and all their was were the hateful glares.

So they like to think.

But with the final betrayal and short lived victory, only to be defeated by him again. She escaped but all there was left was only loneliness for her.

A type of loneliness only he felt. Neither did Gaius or his friends see it. It was a strange feeling constricting his heart.

Don't send a helping hand I need a battering ram, to beat the reasons that I miss you so sorely
I didn't say it but we never saw eye to eye, now life is carefree and equally as boring

But they hardened their hearts. Determined to bury it. But in the end it did nothing for them.

/\/\

It was the perfect disease we had, something to argue and scream about
Who do I see about contracting it back, and locking it somewhere it can't get ripped out
It was the perfect disease we had, and in its absence lies a painful fact
We all need someone to drive us mad

/\/\

Ooh ooh ooh ooh oh, wooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh oh, wooh

/\/\

I need you in the TV, I need you on the train, I need you every single which way

Everywhere he looked he saw her. He saw her reflection while polishing Arthur's armour. He saw her face reflected in those far off mirages when he rode with Arthur to go hunt. She tormented his mind, body and soul.

I need you in the mirrors, I need you in my bed, I need you to wreck my head

Once he was walking down the cloisters with his borrowed item and hoping to return Arthur's keys before he realised that they were missing. But a fine, pale hand reached out and pulled him into one of the alcoves. He turned is head and was faced with her emerald eyes.

She was dressed in a dark robe, hiding her true figure in the the fading light. She wanted the keys he was currently holding and more likely the object he temporarily acquired. He wanted her get out and leave. To never disturb and attack Camelot ever again. They argued in hushed voices. Neither wanting to be discovered.

From hushed voices it became physical with her trying to actually snatch the items out of his hands. She pushed and shoved. He wouldn't give in but managed to push her through a door. But she grabbed onto his neckerchief and dragged him with her. In the empty room everything laid forgotten beside the two of them as they gave into their primal desires again.

I need you in the TV, I need you on the train, I need you just to stand in my way

He was always there. In her dark and dank hovel in the woods she would see him in her dreams, her visions. They never left her. He tormented her mind, body and soul.

I need you in the mirrors, I need you in my bed

She was cooking her dinner, stirring up various ingredients in her pot over the fire. Stirring was a boring job that only kept your hands busy but not your mind. Her mind was busy concocting plans of grandeur about her eventual invasion of Camelot.

The memories of her last meeting with him were buried deep within the recesses of her mind, hopefully never rising up to the surface again. She planned to keep her weakness shut tight in its cage. Suddenly the wooden door of her hovel opened, spilling golden light into her home. At the door was a silhouette of a tall, lanky figure with ears too big for their head.

The figure gracefully glided to her, she too stunned to move yet. Still holding the wooden spoon in her hand, that is until they picked her up and brought her to her bed. The spoon clattered on the floor.

Blue eyes gently looked at her as she laid in her bed in silence.

"For now there is nothing but the two of us. Do you understand?" he said in a husky voice.

She merely nodded before she quickly captured his lips and wrapped her arms around him just as he came to join her in bed.

In the morning she woke up with no one beside her. She got up and and saw a her cooking was finished and an empty bowl at her table that once appeared to be filled with her stew. There was a note beside it.

'That was delicious,' in elegant script.

/\/\

It was the perfect disease we had, something to argue and scream about
Who do I see about contracting it back, and locking it somewhere it can't get ripped out
It was the perfect disease we had, and in its absence lies a painful fact
We all need someone to drive us mad

They hated each other. But they couldn't do without each other. They were the light and and the dark. Neither existing without the other.

FIN


Author's Notes

I think I digressed from my original thought at the first part (I suppose that happens when you have no defined idea). You can take 'that was delicious' in anyway you want ;P. So what did you guys think of it?