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-I have not given permission for this fic to be hosted anywhere but Archive of Our Own. If you are reading it on an app, or paying for viewing it on any other site, it has been stolen-
“Know this, young warlock. Your destiny is tied to that of Arthur Pendragon. The witch cannot be trusted, nor is she your destiny.”
“Well maybe she should be!”
“The witch brings only harm to Camelot, and harm to both sides of your coin.”
“Maybe she wouldn't if we give her a chance! You'll meddle in everyone's fate but Morgana's, but she's got magic same as I do.”
“You are a being of magic, Emrys-”
“And she's alone.”
The great dragon roared a warning, and bellowed, “Your choices alter the path of history, young warlock!”
It echoed on empty halls.
The next morning Gwen opened the door.
“Merlin! What are you doing here? Not that we don't like you, that is.”
“I have word for Lady Morgana,” he said.
“Come in,” Gwen said, and welcomed him in, closing the door behind.
“Actually,” Merlin said, rubbing the back of his neck, “it's only for Lady Morgana. Sorry,” he added.
Gwen blinked, and immediately started protesting, “Of course! It's fine, I'll just-” She cast about the room, and grabbed the laundry. “Carry this downstairs. I'll be back in a bit. Just, leave the door open? Propriety, you know.”
Merlin nodded, and by this time Morgana had joined them.
“I'll be fine, Gwen. Thank you,” she said, then rounded on Merlin. “What's this then?”
Merlin bit his lip.
“Do you still have those dreams? The nightmares?”
Morgana's brow furrowed. “Yes.”
Merlin hesitated, then said very quietly, “Have they ever come true?”
Morgana froze. Then she nodded.
“It's magic,” he said.
“I know,” she whispered. “I knew, but I didn't want to say.” She drew back, pulled on her Pendragon upbringing to say, “and neither will you.”
”Forbearnen,” Merlin whispered in place of an answer. Morgana stared at the tiny flame in his hand, and hesitantly as sparks catch in damp wood, a smile grew.
-o-
“You're late,” Morgana whispered a month later. It was almost midnight, and Merlin was covered in soap and smelled of boot polish.
“Arthur's impossible,” he answered. “How've you been doing?”
Morgana's eyes glowed gold, and a sack of grain lifted almost an inch into the air before falling back to earth.
“I keep trying to practice, but everything in my room is too light, or it's too fragile. I feel like I'm.. blocked! Plugged up, or something. I'm suffocating!” She threw her arms up in frustration, and missed how the grain lifted a full six inches behind her. Merlin didn't.
“You're stronger when you're feeling something strong,” he said.
“Oh really,” she said, and looked at him sidewise.
Three weeks later in the usual clearing, Morgana's skin nearly glowed under moonlight. Merlin's too, where he lay between her legs. Arms over her bent legs, holding her open for his mouth to fit close to her cunt. There was a spell to try, for a peaceful winter on the last full moon before Samhain. Priest and Priestess, as it were, the two most powerful magic users in the land. He lifted his mouth to lick at her clit, work his fingers inside her, make her moan and say not his name but the words they'd learned in secret candlelight.
As the magic took they both burst into brilliant light, gold as the drying grain. The sweat dried, their breathing caught up, and Morgana's eyes continued to glow. With a glance at a nearby log, she raised it six feet in the air.
She hummed in contentment, licked Merlin's lips clean to kiss him.
“What's got you so happy?” He asked.
“I can breathe.”