She is jolted awake by the fire in her dreams licking at her skin, and for a few seconds she can't disentangle the bright flashes in her head from the darkness of her room, the memories from the dream of memories. She doesn't immediately realize that the shoulder she's sobbing into and the arms that hold her as she shakes don't belong to Gwen. Gwen would be telling her it's all right, it's okay, none of it was real, but her familiar litanies aren't there now.
"Are you all right?" Merlin asks.
"What are you doing here?" asks Morgana, still disoriented.
"Your dreams bled into mine." He wipes her tears clumsily, almost uncomfortably, like he's not used to being around girls when they cry. "They're getting louder. And tonight's was especially..." Merlin shrugs. "Well, you were there. You saw it."
"What do you mean my dreams bled into yours?" she demands.
"It's what it sounds like. I was probably dreaming about something rather pedestrian, and then there was Uther in armor and there magic all around him. And you were there too, all around. Well, I didn't see you, more like I felt you in the air." He asks, "Could you see me?"
"Maybe," says Morgana, because she remembers a soft light on the periphery of her visions, something golden and sweet but constantly shifting as if separated from her by a thick veil. It might have been Merlin. Then again, it might have been anything.
Merlin says, "I know what you are."
And Morgana's heart seizes up, not because she thinks Merlin would tell someone or harm her (she can't ever imagine Merlin doing that), but because she has always been the sole keeper of her secret. Gwen doesn't even know, and Arthur and Uther never listen anyway when Morgana tries to warn them. She knows Gwen would believe her if Morgana ever chose to tell, but Morgana doesn't want to involve Gwen in this. Let her think that her lady is a little bit eccentric, a little bit unbalanced and prone to sleepless nights. If she doesn't know Morgana's secrets, she doesn't have to lie.
"Have my dreams bled into anyone else's?" she asks. "Will they know it's me?"
Merlin shakes his head. "No. You just bled into mine."
"Why just yours?"
He grins and scratches his head. "It's going to sound strange. But I suppose if there's anyone who won't turn her nose up at strangeness of this kind, it's you."
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"Are you all right?" Merlin asks.
"What are you doing here?" asks Morgana, still disoriented.
"Your dreams bled into mine." He wipes her tears clumsily, almost uncomfortably, like he's not used to being around girls when they cry. "They're getting louder. And tonight's was especially..." Merlin shrugs. "Well, you were there. You saw it."
"What do you mean my dreams bled into yours?" she demands.
"It's what it sounds like. I was probably dreaming about something rather pedestrian, and then there was Uther in armor and there magic all around him. And you were there too, all around. Well, I didn't see you, more like I felt you in the air." He asks, "Could you see me?"
"Maybe," says Morgana, because she remembers a soft light on the periphery of her visions, something golden and sweet but constantly shifting as if separated from her by a thick veil. It might have been Merlin. Then again, it might have been anything.
Merlin says, "I know what you are."
And Morgana's heart seizes up, not because she thinks Merlin would tell someone or harm her (she can't ever imagine Merlin doing that), but because she has always been the sole keeper of her secret. Gwen doesn't even know, and Arthur and Uther never listen anyway when Morgana tries to warn them. She knows Gwen would believe her if Morgana ever chose to tell, but Morgana doesn't want to involve Gwen in this. Let her think that her lady is a little bit eccentric, a little bit unbalanced and prone to sleepless nights. If she doesn't know Morgana's secrets, she doesn't have to lie.
"Have my dreams bled into anyone else's?" she asks. "Will they know it's me?"
Merlin shakes his head. "No. You just bled into mine."
"Why just yours?"
He grins and scratches his head. "It's going to sound strange. But I suppose if there's anyone who won't turn her nose up at strangeness of this kind, it's you."
"Go on, then."
"We're kin, sort of."
"Are we?" She cocks her head. "How's that?"
And then his eyes flash gold.