InsaneJournal

Who: Arthur, Merlin & Morgana
What: DVD Night? - Why stop at personal angst when you can add to the collective? An excuse for excessive rehashing of events talked about too often already? Drunk shenanigans?
When: Friday afternoon to Saturday morning early
Where: Apt. 107C
Rating: Low
Status: Complete



Despite Morgana’s best efforts the wine bottle kept making frequent visits into her bedroom. More often than not she found a glass in her hand in an attempt to push away the memories that she had gained. It seemed to be something that she gained, a sort of present if one must, as a result of experiencing them; along with the bone-deep fear that she occasionally (mayhap irrationally) still felt it all crawling beneath her skin … even though, she hadn’t truly experienced any of that year. Morgana didn’t want to remember that was what waited for her: being terrified of her own shadow, a problem with alcohol, and oh yes …. blood on her hands. One would think that meant that she would avoid everything to do with the future that seemed set in stone - even with her renewed promise to self that destiny could screw itself - but Morgana had always had quite an interesting logic. That was why she was settling on her couch with a bottle of wine preparing herself to watch the DVDs of the show. A show called Merlin.

Morgana eyed the DVD cover after rolling her eyes. She waited for Merlin and Arthur’s arrival.

She needed to know. She had to know. Morgana was tired of half-answers, even in the form of her own memory. She had to know why everything had fallen all around her, why it had occurred the way it had. Yes, she knew a lot of things: Morgause had … well, Morgause had done what she thought was the best option. Merlin and Gaius had deserted her. And Arthur and Gwen were oblivious idiots. Of course, there was the fact that she, herself, had gone what most would call crazy. Morgana wasn’t certain what she would call it just Because there were many things that Morgana couldn’t even resolve with herself. She needed some sort of explanation, some sort of closure. She deserved that. As the bloody dragon wasn’t there, as she couldn’t grill Gaius, and talking to Uther or Gwen was a bad plan - Morgana had gotten the DVDs.

Calling Arthur and Merlin was pure selfishness on her part. Alright … not complete selfishness, she thought they deserved answers as much as she did (Arthur certainly). Nevertheless, it would be a lie if she didn’t want to see Merlin squirm a little bit and to watch if Arthur really did feel as guilty as he claimed. She also imagined it would be easier to grill them over what she saw, if they saw the same things.

Yes … she knew they could do the same. Morgana wasn’t exactly prepared for that but she would deal with it accordingly. She dealt with a lot. She was just tired of waiting.

Arthur loitered outside Morgana’s door with an odd looking frown. He glanced down the hall toward Merlin’s room, willing him to come out already so they could get on with this. Whatever this was. Morgana had not been very forthcoming in her text message, but then, neither had Arthur the other day. All he knew was she wanted them over and her door was unlocked to them. That didn’t entirely bode well, as far as Arthur was concerned. When Morgana was more than upset she got terse and pointed, this was as cryptic and vague as she got.

He looked up at the sound of a door opening in the hall and his frown deepened.

Entering the hall to see Arthur scowling at him really wasn’t the greatest start to what would no doubt be an interesting visit. There was no telling what Morgana wanted, and Arthur certainly seemed to expect the worse if his frown was any indication. “Go on then. She’ll smack us both if we keep her waiting too long.”

Merlin shoved him through the door first, following along after, and shutting the door behind them. Morgana was drinking and toying with a DVD case he didn’t recognize - except - what was that the cover had on it? He shook his head and glanced back up at her expectantly. They couldn’t have been called over so suddenly to watch a movie, right?

“Sit down.” Morgana stated barely looking up when they entered. Her fingers actually twitched to pour herself more wine but she could have self-control. The momentary reminder of: Just because she remembered it, didn’t mean it had happened to her - helped for all of a few seconds. She used Merlin and Arthur shuffling in to push her distracting herself to a full minute. Morgana turned the case so that they could see who was on it. “Should I get the popcorn or two more glasses?” She quested, her tone far too nonchalant for the situation, for what had occurred between them all in the memories and because of them. “I picked these up this morning. I thought a little education and enlightment would do us good.”

“You want us to watch-” Arthur snitched the case from her hands with a rabid sort of terrified intensity to cover his shock. He’d never seen these before. He hadn’t even known they existed. Of course Morgana would be able to find them. “Ourselves?”

Is that wise? He didn’t ask it. He didn’t need to. All three of them were likely thinking the same damn thought. There wasn’t a better way to resolve their issues. Fighting would only make them tired, or as estranged as Gwen and Morgana were becoming, though Arthur wondered idly at the true cause of it.

“Why are they named after you?” he asked, handing the box to Merlin.

Merlin might’ve choked on his own breath when she held out the box, and he saw himself staring back from the cover with his name in big gold letters. And hey look - the dragon, and Nimueh, and Lancelot too. Even worse. This was not the only box. Now that he knew what they were, he was terrified to see that there were two other box sets over by the television.

“I don’t want to watch these.” He said quickly. Some of it was bound to be entertaining. He could laugh and mock the many times Arthur was oblivious and unconscious while he saved the day. However, there were memories he would rather not have to think about let alone watch ever again.

“Cause the adventures of an unconscious prince wouldn’t make for a good show.” Merlin grumbled, passing the box back, and suddenly eyeing Morgana’s wine.

“And whose fault is it that I was so.” Arthur took the box and tapped it against his thigh with a thin scowl. They were going to need more than one bottle of wine for this. They might need one to convince Merlin to sit down and watch. Arthur wasn’t leaving. He was sick of hearing of these events second hand, ill with the knowledge that half his actions were created at the hands of someone else and irritated more-over that even when asked, people still lied to him about the outcomes and occurrences. He needed to see for his own peace of mind, even if it meant leaving and loathing everyone.

“Morgana, where did you get these?”

Morgana’s expression was a cross between a ‘duh’ and a challenge at Arthur’s question. For all her forced air of unconcern, she was waiting at the edge for their response. She would watch regardless of their response - which she imagined would be much more explosive and incredulous than her own had been. Their reactions, however, did matter. She wanted to know if this mattered to them as much as it did to her. There was more context, more layers to that then Morgana wanted to explore at the moment. However, that was what it was; a strong part of why she had called them here.

Although her eyes were on Merlin, Morgana dismissed his refusal. She didn’t respond to it. If he wanted to leave, she wouldn’t stop him. It had come to the point where she wouldn’t even bother taunting him or guilting him or needling him into cooperation. The door, he knew where it was and that would be response enough to many unvoiced thoughts and questions. “He is the Great Merlin.” Morgana said in response to Arthur’s question. If words could shrug. There might have been a touch of bitterness to it. Or it could have been the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping well creeping into her tone - well, much worse than usual - slipping through because of the alcohol. Who knew.

“Does it matter where I got them from?”

“Not really. Tell me if they’re any good...” Merlin said, clearly more then willing to head out, and leave the other two to it. He would be more then happy to go back to his own copy of Sword in the Stone, and pretend that the only stories about them were inaccurate versions.

“You’re staying.” Arthur grabbed Merlin by the collar of his shirt and gave him a shove toward Morgana’s sofa. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

Morgana stood up and walked to the kitchen without a word and plucked up two more glasses. This bottle was the only one she had left. Not because she had drunk it all but rather Morgana did have more self-control than she currently believed herself capable of. She didn’t want to worry Mordred anymore than he already was, therefore, she had gotten rid of the few spirits she had for special occasions. The only reason she had this one was because of the DVDs on the table in front of the television.

Handing the glasses to Merlin and Arthur, she poured a little in each one, before turning in and placing the first DVD of the first series.

Merlin dropped onto the sofa and glared back at Arthur, but eventually relaxed against the arm. He did take the glass Morgana offered though, but there was not nearly enough in it. It would have to do for now though, since Morgana already had the first episode starting...

Arthur settled in next to Merlin, reaching for the glass Morgana handed him before leaning back and stretching out to get comfortable. He didn’t know much about movies, or television shows, but three boxes worth of disks didn’t get his hopes up that this would be fast, or easy. He glanced at Morgana over the edge of his wine glass, puzzling over her waspish response to his question. But he couldn’t ignore the show for very long.

This would be an incredibly long night.

Morgana leaned back slightly, crossing her legs, and braced herself. She was completely unprepared of what she would find. However, this bright beginning was not it. There was something unexpectedly cheery about the episode, even with all of it’s darker moments. Her heart constricted seeing Camelot fresh and bustling. The last memory she had of it was of her sending arrows into innocent people, was of her bedroom as she waited for Gwen to bring her Arthur. Everything else after that seemed to be a dark blur. Having it so clear and fresh in front of her made her yearn for it in a way she hadn’t … ever.

It was so very, very odd - for a very strong lack of a better term - seeing herself on screen. The execution of that boy who hadn’t deserved it, still in her mind, the pain of his poor mother. Uther’s clipped words to her about the feast. However, that was offset by Merlin and Arthur’s first meeting. Gwen - and that was another twinge in her chest that Morgana ignored and pushed aside with another sip of wine - had told her all about. Seeing it was different; it brought a smile to her face, a tiny quirk of her mouth. Pushing past her studied apathy. When the scene came of Merlin appearing in her room, she gave him a quirked brow - keeping most of her thoughts on that to herself. It wasn’t as if he had seen anything worth seeing as she had dressed behind the screen. She had thought that Gwen had sounded different.

Merlin smiled despite himself most of the first episode. It was nice to see Gaius again, and even better to see the brief glimpses of his mother. He even offered a sheepish sort of grin at Morgana when she glanced at him because of his appearance in her room. So - this wasn’t that terrible so far. Of course, it was only the first hour of many.

The second episode started off much as the first, Arthur thought, finding it hard and entertaining to watch events that happened years in the past. He vaguely recalled this tournament, and Merlin’s part in it was completely unrecognizable for the most part. He resolutely didn’t turn red at the odd banter between him and Morgana. God, he refused to even think about it, especially now.

He’s still attractive, Morgana thought as she vaguely recognize a tendency to find men that could be characterized as “evil”, or at the very least with a strong desire to kill off Arthur, appealing. Valiant. Alvarr. There had been that prince when she was sixteen who had almost pushed him down a stairs if not for her quick thinking. Morgana wondered if that said something or if that was simply coincidental. Morgana told herself that she didn’t care as she brushed aside annoyance at the angle that her thoughts took - why did it have to mean something? - after all, she hadn’t ended up with either of those men and Arthur was very much not dead.

Morgana sat up and took interest at Nimueh. It wasn’t visible, her doing so, but it was there. Morgause had told her all about her and she watched every bit of the woman’s actions, grey eyes alight. She watched all of the magic. If her father had sent her away, if Uther hadn’t gone mad with irrational hate … this woman would have been her teacher.

When the episode ended, Morgana settled back with a soft snort at her own stupidity. Oh, yes, she had certainly discovered Merlin’s secret. It had been a shock to her when she had arrived to find that Gwen had suddenly lost a strong interest in Merlin and had suddenly developed feelings for Arthur. Likely, the start of her being kept in the dark by her own best friend. Morgana decided to focus on bitter thoughts about Gwen and her secretiveness, rather than look at Merlin. Or think about the excitement on his face … as stupid as she found her past-self in that moment, there was no mistaking the excitement. He had thought she had known. He truly had wanted to tell her, to share that with her. Morgana felt her eyes prick as a question echoed in her mind: Then, why had he never corrected her? It was followed by a lot of probable answers and assumptions. That would likely, hopefully, be resolved through this experiment.

The second episode wasn’t particularly interesting, but the third wasn’t something he was too keen on actually watching. He toyed with the edge of his shirt, and somehow produced a pen to doodle on his jeans. He shrunk back into the sofa as he caught sight of Nimueh, the sounds of Gwen being arrested for his own stupid well-intended mistake, and finally the end where Morgana had announced she had known his secret. He did remember that. The idea of having someone other then Gaius to talk to about magic, even if only briefly, had been amazing. He’d only ever had Will express that same sort of curiosity and instant acceptance before. Only to find she thought it was a crush on Gwen she was keeping secret for him...And what could he do then but shrug and agree?

It had almost become boring as the hours passed. He’d finished his drink, gotten a glass of water, even popped the popcorn Morgana had offered at the start so he would have something to do with himself. Only briefly entertained by Arthur getting enchanted by Sophia, and getting to see Merlin save him. Ignoring the first of what would be several offers by other sorcerers to abandon Arthur or Camelot to join them and rule the kingdom together when Edwin’s episode passed. He might’ve even drifted to sleep a little, only to be startled awake by Mordred’s voice.

Merlin glanced at Morgana. Great. This was bound to go well. They would see him help Mordred, only to take the Kilgahrrah’s word and contemplate letting the boy die. If not for Mordred’s screaming in his mind, he might have. Not that he had liked the idea at all, and he’d been properly reluctant, but he was almost sure Morgana would be angry with him regardless for even entertaining the idea of letting her ‘son’ die because of some prophecy given to him by a dragon.

Between Merlin and Morgana, Arthur felt ready to jump out of his skin by the end credits of the eighth episode. His own scowl wasn’t directed at either, but more the floor as he grappled with the remote to pause the DVD before it could move into the ninth episode. Eight hours of staring at their own faces and faults was enough to give anyone a headache, but having no one say one word for hours on end left Arthur set on edge with no direct way to confront the issues.

“What was that?” he asked, directing the question more at Merlin than Morgana, but he would love to hear her thoughts on what they just watched as well.

Arthur wanted to talk now. Arthur wanted to talk. One could always tell how bad a situation was or how badly it was going when Arthur was attempting to be the reasonable one.

Talking to Merlin right now would not be a good idea. It would very likely involve her throwing what was left in her glass in his face and doing some serious damage. The fact that he had considered killing an innocent child … was inconceivable. Yes, Morgana had seen and she acknowledged his torment over it. However, he had considered it. She, for all of her many MANY errors, had never once brought harm to a young person. All because a suspicious over-grown lizard had told him to do so. Well.

Morgana wanted that thing dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. As for what she had considered doing to Merlin … she got up, placed her glass down and didn’t even look at either of them. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She stated, cutting off any comment or protest. If she raged now, if she raged at Merlin. She would … if she raged now, she doubted she would stop for a very long time. And with her anger, went her magic. Morgana didn’t have that exact control yet. It was better for all of them for her to sit in the bathroom for a few, long, minutes before splashing water in her face. As it was the mirror in the bathroom shook, as she took deep breaths, tears choked slightly in her throat over the thought of how close that she had come to losing Mordred, if it hadn’t been for the boy’s insistence and Merlin’s conscious not being able to hold out.

He stared at the floor, knowing better then to breath in Morgana’s direction the wrong way at the moment. So he let her get to the bathroom, then focused on the paused screen. Arthur’s question still hung over his head, and he was certain the prince was still staring at him.

“I don’t know.” It was stupid to even bother, there was no right answer to this. No excuse would be good enough for nearly letting a child die. Certainly not for Morgana. “Kilgharrah is the only one I knew that - I trusted him...” He shrugged and fiddled with the remote, pulling up the next episode and pausing again - preferring to stare at Nimueh then the end of the last episode.

Arthur said nothing, staring down the television set like that would be enough to take it all back and give them another try. They weren’t even done a full series. They hadn’t even rounded out a year. Arthur knew what came next. Logically. The large events were the ones captured, not the small. He could list all the strange happenings, all the minor incidents with enormous consequences without aid of a box or a show. Merlin was huddled at his side, trying to make himself smaller and more fragile than both of them knew was accurate. Arthur wanted to shake him, or hit him, but instead he got up to pace, knowing the next time he sat it would be at some distance from both of them.

“Right,” he muttered, wishing Morgana would leave the bathroom sooner rather than later.

Arthur got his wish as Morgana opened the door only a few beats after he spoke. It was as if the moment she had in the bathroom hadn’t occurred at all. At least not if one didn’t look closely. Her composure was calm, if a tiny bit stiff, but her features were generally composed … almost flirting into blank territory. The only thing that showed that she might have been affected were the slight trembling of her hands and the fact that the corner of her eyes were red. That wouldn’t go despite her best efforts and Morgana for all her vanity didn’t know of any spells to keep one from looking as if they might have been crying.

She tried not to look at Merlin. There had been an odd sensation in her chest when she so much as thought of him while she was in the bathroom, and now it settled like an odd bile. The hypocrite. Morgana tried to remind herself of other things, of better things, in general and involving Merlin - as that didn’t work, she didn’t look at him but for a quick glance that skipped toward the side of his head. Her focus, once again, was on Arthur. “Are we ready to start again?” Morgana would beat through as much of this as possible in one sitting. That was her plan and she would keep to it. She wanted to know that badly, and now she just wanted it all done that quickly.

Merlin could not sit between either of them, and suspected they had no desire to be anywhere near him at the moment too. So before they returned, he settled on the floor beside the sofa, a little distance between. They might as well get on with it, hopefully find something else to focus on. The next story was of the black knight, which was mostly uninteresting. It wasn’t until that one passed and suddenly Ealdor was on the television that Merlin paid any real attention.

His breath hitched slightly as Kanen sacked his home, as he had for many years of course, but it was hard seeing it again. Seeing Matthew - who was killed when they had returned there to help. His mother being struck and threatened. John killed for trying to help her. And Will...

Merlin stood suddenly, muttering something about needing more wine, then disappearing out the door. A long walk to the store was in order. Time away from their anger, and avoiding having to watch the death of his best friend again.
Morgana’s stance softened slightly as she focused further on the show: At first, even more, for Nimueh and then for Merlin. Her feelings hadn’t changed. She was livid with him over what he had nearly let happened to Mordred. His recriminations during the truth spell, over what she had been willing to let happen and do to Uther, and through her thoughts. Her sharp anger over his gall, was prevalent. However, she couldn’t push away the understanding. Morgana had lost both of her parents long before her teenage years. Morgause’s death echoed in her mind. While she had “seen” her own father’s death, what Merlin had experienced … Morgana couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to watch his best friend die before his eyes. And to die protecting him. Contrary what some might think of her because of what had transpired in Camelot, she wasn’t utterly heartless. She might blame him for so much but she wasn’t the woman she would become, no matter how much she feared it, no matter how much the memories worried her and conflicted her thoughts.

She knew if it had been Gwen … Morgana didn’t even want to think on that. For all the difficulties the two women were having, Morgana doubted that if Gwen were to die, that she would react very well. In fact, the only reason why she hadn’t imploded when it had happened last time was because she had been so busy keep Arthur from being stupid. She had to carry on and for a second, before she squashed it, Morgana felt something kindred there with Merlin. A sort of wonder and respect at how he had just picked up his pieces and done what he had to do.

“Should we wait for him?” Morgana asked, her eyes on the door for a long while before turning to Arthur. Her tone soft and carrying concern.

“No.” Arthur clenched the remote but let the episode continue playing out its last few minutes. “He’ll come back.”

Morgana watched as the scene closed on their backs. Four horses riding off after helping save a village. It was quite symbolic, she was sure. She had seen quite a few films, certainly more than Arthur, to be able to figure that out what “they” had been attempting to do. As odd as this entire scene was, with so many hours in and the fact that she had been staring at herself for so long on a television screen not being any less weird, Morgana took comfort in the fact that there were things they missed. There were moments her mind did that, noticed the “thematic value” of a scene but also noted the moments that they had missed - perhaps cut out? - because they had deemed it unimportant … or maybe their minds simply hadn’t conceived certain things. They and their being the ones who “created” Merlin. Moments like the good ones between herself and Uther … that still weren’t enough to solve things. They certainly had cut out the moment after the battle. The wounded and the dead. And how she had ignored Arthur when he had tried to send her inside. After all, she killed them. She had been there just as much as he had, helping men and women with no experience into a battle for their lives and livelihood - just as much as he had. He might have done most of the instructing but she had been there and she had certainly helped. She hadn’t been about to leave them on the ground like that.

Morgana supposed that wouldn’t be a thing to show. The dead on the ground. Especially, when this show didn’t even show blood. God, she certainly hoped children didn’t watch this. The image that they would be left about war and battles and fighting and everything in between. Morgana had always wanted to be a knight, not because she was clueless of what truly happened. Her father had been honest with her. It occurred to her that this wasn’t the most honest depiction of their lives, of how things had actually happened, but it was the best they had. It certainly was honest enough about the dramatic actions, the things that they had done.

She watched the next scene played out but she didn’t really pay any attention to it. It, her mind, was focused on the closing ‘scene’ of the last episode. Her eyes seeing the dead bodies and faces that usually only visited in her nightmares. Morgana took a shaky breath and got up for some water.

They had called her helping Mordred “the Beginning of the End” but that last scene, with the four of them on that horse, felt more - now - of an ending. Of things ending before they had truly started, even though they had come out of that battle feeling cleaved together through steel and blood … and Merlin’s case, magic.

Morgana made a face at herself. At how maudlin she was being. She returned, it took her a moment to place what she was watching, but it was forget that moment in time as well. Arthur had killed a unicorn and Camelot had suffered. Morgana glanced at him for a moment, noting the tightness in him, before returning her attention to the screen. The need to point out that it still hadn’t been his fault dying out the instant it bubbled up to her tongue.

The unicorn episode was nearly done when he returned, a brown bag in his arms with four of the larges bottles of wine he could find. It might be a little more then they needed, but between the three of them, and the next two seasons - it wouldn’t go to waste. Besides, he assumed they would be taking a break soon. They had been at this all day. He needed to stop watching all of this, scrape up a bit of courage to make him sit through the rest.

Next was the death of Gwen’s father, Morgana’s first attempt to help kill Uther. So just on time with the wine. He put the other bottles in the fridge, keeping one out to fill all three of their glasses, then settling quietly on the floor again.

“You cried like a little girl when you thought I was dead.” Arthur pushed at the back of Merlin’s head with his foot, because watching the entire scene about Tom made him more than restless. There were many ways he could have prevented that. Ways he should have used because the apology he gave Gwen after was...

He took a swig of wine and looked down at the contents, instead of watching the scene. Listening, he found, worked as well as watching in most cases, but soon he wasn’t even allowed that. He wasn’t as aware of the events occurring in this episode as he was in the last. It was more about Morgana, which had his attention more immediately. There hadn’t been one yet. He hadn’t even noticed until he found himself listening to Morgana’s voice more than anyone else. As he watched, it dawned on him he did know about this, because Morgana had told him. Yet, like everything else being told and actually seeing it were entirely different. The worst of it was he wasn’t certain who he felt he should be encouraging any more.

If there was one thing that Morgana would forever feel guilty for, it would be for Tom’s death. It had actually caused a conflict with herself and her sister when it had come to using Gwen and Elyan in a plot to lure Arthur away, and then the plan to have Gwen killed. Morgause’s steady and logical arguments had won through. Morgana had gotten good at suppressing parts of her that would bring guilt and that was what she had done to every image of kindness Tom had ever bestowed on her. Tom had always treated her well, never looked at her oddly for befriending Gwen - his daughter, when many people of all classes had - and he had her fath - Gorloi - Her father’s respect. However, none of that mattered in the end. Sometimes one had to make sacrifices, do what one believed to do was necessary, and that was what Morgana had done. What she would do. That didn’t stop her from shifting uncomfortably, looking pointedly away from the screen as the guards went after Tom or keep a part of her from wanting to embrace Gwen as she heard the pain in her best friend’s voice.

Morgana closed her eyes momentarily. She didn’t need to see Uther looking her up, didn’t need to see Tauren, and she got up when it came to Uther’s near-death. She didn’t watch the screen but she did hear. It would seem that Merlin was foiling her plans long before she even knew. It amazed her that she never once even realized what it was, how he had been able to do so,.

She didn’t settle back toward the couch when the next episode started. Morgana didn’t need to know how it began, she knew it like she knew the paces for a maneuver. Recalled it like it was yesterday. There was a beast. She had a nightmare. She tried her best to warn Arthur - he of course ignored her. He had handed her off to Merlin of all things, who then handed her of to a guard. Morgana couldn’t even remember much beyond that - the minutes from the castle steps to being brought back to her rooms. All she saw in that moment was him lying dead. She had been terrified out of her bloody mind. She had even gone so far to run, her - run, in public, in her nightclothes. And he had dismissed her. Like some hysterical female. In order for him to kill some stupid animal because his stupid father had said said so, like the good little solider he would always be, would be once again when they all returned. That had been more important than listening to what she had to say, then ensuring her safety. Then he died and things had only gotten worse the following years.

Merlin didn’t comment at the little taunt about crying. It wouldn’t be the last time, and not the only time this evening - the questing beast would not be far off. He watched the reactions of the other two as the episodes passed, Arthur’s regret when Gwen’s father was killed, Morgana walking away as her televised counter-part plotted against Uther...This really was a terrible idea. Watching all their mistakes, every loss, every bad decision with no chance of changing it.

Then he was watching Arthur die again, like he knew he would, bitten and told there was no hope. Going to the island of the blessed and offering his life for Arthur’s - He remembered that night. Saying good bye to everyone in his own way, sitting up all night thinking that those few hours would be his last, only to wake and find his mother suffering, dying. By the end of the episode his free hand played absently over the center of his chest, thinking of being struck there, then the awful power of taking Nimueh’s life - trading hers without hesitation for Gaius’, for his mother’s, for Arthur. Then it was done. The disks over. At least the first season.

Arthur wanted to look away from Morgana, but found it nearly impossible to do anything but. There wasn’t much to say by the end of that season. That was the end of the time all of them had remembered when first coming here. Those were the events they had known most intimately the longest, and it had still been terrible to watch it.

And that was not the worst of it. Not if his memories were accurate, not if the way Guinevere and Morgana no longer spoke. Not if the way he and Merlin could barely look at each other was of any significance.

“Any idea what time it is?” he asked.

Morgana had moved back to the room as the “episode” played on. However, she didn’t move any closer to the men. She, instead, leaned against the wall with her arms crossed not, her face blank. Her thoughts of: piecing together why Merlin had pulled away from her the way he had in the alcove when she had once again tried to warn him, his abject stupidity in allowing the dragon to continue on living … never mind giving him advice after the creature tricked him and nearly cost Hunith her life, and what a waste to trade Nimueh for Gaius (which in itself still brought a pang of hurt and bitterness over someone she thought was their to protect her). None of that showed on her face as she looked at the clock.

“It’s almost three.” She answered. They had been watching this since about three, four in the afternoon.

“Three.” He yawned, draining the last of the wine from his glass, and standing. He shuffled a little, bone tired, and thankful to be done at least in part with this. It was still a little surprising to him how little they’d all spoken throughout all these. He wondered if they watched, bursting with questions and accusations, but not able to voice them for one reason or another. He certainly had, but he could barely look at them let alone speak and have an actual conversation.

“I think we should call it a night.” He offered instead, more then ready to go back to his room and not sleep for hours on end, but at least it would not be this awkward silence.

Arthur nodded, standing and stretching hard enough to feel it down in his feet. He gave Merlin a light bump toward the kitchen, but stole Merlin’s glass out of his hands, more than willing to take them both and be out of the room. He needed to talk to both of them. Morgana perhaps more than Merlin, which seemed to be the way of it lately. Merlin was not family. Not by birth or blood and Merlin had more reasons to stay than Morgana and needed less reassurance and apologies. Arthur wondered if he would ever feel he apologized to Morgana enough for things to be fine.

He tipped the glasses upside down into her sink and frowned.

“I need to be getting back.” He did have a wife and a baby and if he knew Guinevere as well as he thought he did, she was not going to be pleased by the fact that he left in the afternoon without word or call and was returning well after midnight.

Morgana simply nodded. She didn’t need to say anything. They all had a lot to think on and they still needed to talk. There were still two DVD sets to watch. She knew that Arthur, if not both of them, would be back tomorrow or at the very least the next day. Perhaps maybe even later on this Saturday.

Morgana certainly hoped not. Saturday would be too soon for even her to control and collect the buzzing in her head. To keep herself in control of her emotions and her responses to the probing questions that she just knew Arthur would be spending the day preparing to give her (that is if he didn’t have most of them already).

She moved to remove the last DVD of series one from her player, looking once at Merlin and then at Arthur, hesitating … before not saying anything.

She hated this but at the same time, she felt more settled for all of the emotions roiling inside of her. It was because she was glad that she finally knew. That for once she had answers. Morgana had thought herself aware during her return during Camelot but this was something new.

Closing the case, but not looking at them, she murmured a good night.