phantomjam | Fic: A Seer's Power Is This

Just posting last week's

merlin_las entry (woo, I live to write another day \o/)

Title: A Seer's Power Is This
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None. The las, it does not engage my slash brain.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Vague for 1x08, 'The Beginning of the End'
Summary: Morgana walks the night alone
A/N: Written for the prompt 'Morgana'

It is late and the halls of the castle seem endless and deserted in the dark, the velvet silence so thick Morgana thinks she might choke on it. Tonight there are no servants, no courtiers or drunken nobles’ sons stumbling brashly to their beds; she is alone in her reverie, ghosting through corridors heavy with echoing stillness. Her gossamer gown whisks noiselessly behind her, bright against the night-darkened stone, a river of liquid silver drifting in her wake.

Something tugs at her, a singing in her soul that she can’t quite catch. She feels the vibrations of it thrumming in her chest but it is soundless and somehow out of reach. A wrongness hovers in the air and the fluttering in the pit of her stomach will not settle, anxiety and excitement and unease intimately entwined. Morgana pauses at a window, hand on the sill; she looks out and there is no moon.

She turns, and finds herself in a room, empty save for the long dining table and chairs that stand stark in the dim candlelight. She circles the table, caressing the worn surface, stroking over every groove and hollow of the pitted wood; Morgana remembers this scene. She lifts a hand to her throat. Her touch lights butterfly-soft on her skin, but she can still feel the rasp of rough leather burning there, bruising grip forcing her back and down. She is mastered again by the visceral bite of fear and anticipation as she drowns in Uther’s rage, her rebellion both banked and stoked by the raw murder in his eyes.

She swallows against a feeling of constriction. The phantom hold on her throat, so vivid, solidifies; it is not Uther. Shocking blue eyes stare her down from a gaunt and shadowed face, so familiarly alien and beautiful. She feels it is a face she has seen before, though not like this. The stranger tightens his crushing hold on her, choking her, dominating her utterly as she sways in his thrall.

Over his shoulder she glimpses Arthur slumped on the floor, propped up against a wall. A golden crown rings his head, and when she looks at it she hears shouting and the ring of steel on steel, sees armies and battles and victory, crimson standards flaring against a jagged sky, great cheers rising from all sides; Arthur’s eyes are closed and his body looks still and cold. Merlin is crouching over him, stance protective, one hand raised. His eyes are as unearthly golden as the crown and Morgana is frightened.

Her eyes drift shut against the scene – acceptance, penitence, entreaty. The man leans down over her and whispers in her ear, breath murmuring silken over her skin; the singing in her body stills with the fraught moment.

‘Mordred,’ he promises, and she wakes, blood racing, thrilling with the power of being powerless.

Fic: A Seer's Power Is This

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