The Waking World

Dreams were the one thing in Merlin’s life that he normally had complete control over. Unlike everyone he’d ever spoken to, Merlin’s dreams were rarely out of his control. His dreams were logical and ordered, and he never awoke confused and unable to tell the difference between the real world and the dream world.
Until now.


For the past three nights he’d been having exceptionally vivid dreams, even for him. He always awoke to find himself in some kind of sexual situation with Morgana. He’d dreamed of her in such ways off and on since he’d first laid eyes upon her, but he’d never indulged in fantasies of her three nights in a row. He had feared dreaming of her too often—he’d feared he’d fall in love, as Arthur had with Gwen, only to never have Morgana’s love in return. Even if he did, nothing could come of it.


 He couldn’t understand the nature of his dreams about her now, especially considering they were enemies, and he was actively fighting against her.


Morgana was no longer the kind of woman he could love. She’d made the decision to turn to her sister, Morgause, and had learned dark magic from her. She gave in to her hatred of Uther so deeply it corrupted her beyond the point of return. There was no hope for Morgana. There was nothing he could do to replace the dark cruelty in her heart with light and compassion. He’d finally accepted that fact.


Merlin was almost afraid to go to sleep, but he needed his rest. Uther was throwing a feast in honor of Morgana’s victory over the traitor who had risen an army of the dead, and he would have to serve Arthur. He would have to pretend that Morgana was the good daughter of Camelot, rather than the evil witch she really was.


It seemed to take hours for Merlin to fall asleep, and as soon as he did he knew the direction this dream was about to take. He was still lying in his bed, still dressed only in his britches, a blanket over him to ward off the chill, as he had been when he fell asleep. The door opened, and Morgana entered, clad in a purple cloak. Her eyes were dark as her soul, her lips red and glistening like fresh blood. She threw the cloak off, revealing her naked flesh which was as white as bone and glowed in the shaft of moonlight that spilled through the partially opened window. There was no kindness in her gaze, only hot lust.


His cock hardened at once, pushing against the thin material of his pants and the blanket. His entire body ached to have her wet warmth against him, and she knew it. She held back in an act of torture that Merlin loathed and loved at the same time.


“Shhh…quiet lover,” Morgana whispered. “You’ll wake Gaius. He’ll see the state you’re in, and you will be humiliated.”


Merlin couldn’t stop himself. He tried, he did his best, but his breath was loud in the room, blood rushed creating a thudding sound in his ears. He reached for her, and she held out a hand. He grasped her warm skin, which was soft like silk, and pulled her down.


Morgana’s eyes glowed like molten gold in the dark room. At once his pants and blanket were ripped away, the cool air an unpleasant sensation against his skin. It wasn’t enough to diminish his erection, which twitched eagerly for Morgana’s body. She straddled him and he thrust up and into her, making her hiss from the force of his entry. He’d hurt her a little, and that made his cock harder. He hated her, yet he wanted her.


She began rocking against him, hard and fast, and Merlin dug his fingers into her hips, guiding her. The room was largely silent except for the wet sound of their union, their labored breathing, and a soft thump of the bed against the wall that Merlin would have prayed didn’t wake Gaius if he’d had the presence of mind to think of the old man at all.


Climax was near, sweat glistened on Morgana’s white breasts. He always wanted to taste the hard, rosy nipples that tipped them, but never had. All they ever did in these dream was fuck, hard, fast, and brutal, Morgana always on top.


He came inside of her, biting his lip to hold down on the moan that longed to escape him. Morgana’s body clenched wonderfully tight around him. He reached for her face, an instinctively tender gesture, and she pulled his hand roughly away. One of his fingernails grazed her skin. He hadn’t meant to scratch her, and didn’t understand how he’d cut her flesh with such a simple motion, a long red line appeared on her skin, going from her left jaw down her neck to her color bone.


Morgana smiled, as though she liked it.


She left him then, gathering her cloak around her, and Merlin awoke, his eyes snapping open. He was covered in sweat, his cum was sticky and thick in his pants, but he felt sated, his body felt tired, as though he’d actually just fucked the king’s ward. He even thought he could smell Morgana in the room, as though she had really been with him. He wanted to move, to get up, but sleep pulled him into its embrace once again. This time, there were no dreams.


***


The feast was noisy and crowded. Uther gazed at Morgana with misty eyes of adoration that bordered on sleazy, in Merlin’s opinion. He knew Uther had no sexual interest in Morgana, but the way the old man looked at her sometimes set Merlin’s teeth on edge. Gwen waited in the background, filling Morgana’s cup whenever it came close to being empty, putting food that Morgana wished to eat onto her plate, bringing her anything her heart desired, and Merlin did the same for Arthur.


Morgana’s hair was down and she looked as lovely as ever. It was hard for Merlin to look at her, for his mind always turned to the dreams he had of her at night. They were so real…Yet he’d never laid a hand on her, and he never would. He could never love his enemy, and he would not allow these inexplicable—and admittedly wonderful—dreams to diminish his resolve to expose her for what she was to Uther and Arthur, and all of Camelot.


After almost two hours of eating, talking, laughing at jesters, and imbibing wine, the feast wound down and Uther left the table to relieve himself. Indeed everyone in the room was relieved that he had gone, and now it would not be rude of them to also stand from the table. Morgana fanned herself, her gaze shifting away from Merlin. As she turned her head, her hair fell back to reveal a long, thin scratch along her left jaw.


Merlin dropped a decanter of wine, his entire body going cold, his stomach clenching so tightly he felt he would be sick.


“Merlin!” Arthur shouted angrily. The sound had been so loud that everyone in the room stopped to look.


Merlin looked down—the wine had splashed across Arthur’s boots.


“Sorry…” Merlin said, and knelt to sop the wine up. He wanted nothing more than for the feast to end. He had to confront Morgana. He had to know how she’d managed to invade his dreams.


***


Everyone was gone, and the hour was late when Merlin made his way to Morgana’s chambers. He didn’t bother knocking, but opened the door. Gwen was gone for the night, and Morgana would be quite alone.


She sat at her vanity, brushing her hair, a smug smile on her face.


“I knew you would come to me.”


Merlin moved quickly across the room, infuriated. He’d never known such rage as he did then. He took Morgana’s arm and hauled her to her feet.


“You…bitch!”


Morgana threw her head back, laughing in a way that sounded mad. He squeezed her arms hard enough to leave bruises.


“You’ve been coming to my room…you…you’ve been…” Merlin stuttered, words failing him.


“Not physically. I’ve been sharing your dreams. A little trick I learned from my dear sister. Dreams, after all, are my forte, Merlin.”


“You have no right!” Merlin shouted. He felt violated and angry. He’d never wanted to hurt Morgana. Not until now.


“You’re so angry, lover,” she laughed.


“I am not your lover! Come to me like that again and I’ll…I’ll…”


“You’ll fuck me, like you always do.”


Merlin turned away, bile rising in his throat. He felt ashamed, disgusted.


“You knew those dreams were too vivid, even for one of our kind.”


“Why?” he said, turning to her.


“It’s hard to fight the woman you love, and you do love me, Merlin. I can sense it.”


“I loved who you were, but this…what you’ve become…No. I could never love you now. Stay out of my dreams, Morgana.”


He turned to leave, he just wanted to be away from her, but Morgana grabbed his arm with brutal force and hauled him back. He hit the bed at an odd angle and sprawled out onto it. Morgana stood over him, watching him.


“Now you don’t have to dream of me. Now you can have me, in the flesh.”


“I don’t want you!”


“Liar!”


Morgana was dressed in a robe that she threw open. She was naked, and every curve of her body was the same as it had been in the dreams. She reached for Merlin’s belt, he swatted her hand away, but it was pointless. He was hard at the sight of her, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away on knees as weak as his were right now.


“Stop…” he whispered, but he made no further attempts to keep Morgana from undoing his trousers and pulling off his shirt.


Morgana leaned over him and said, “Fuck me like you really want to, Merlin. I’m yours for the taking.”


Doing what he’d longed to do since first setting eyes on her, Merlin sat up and threw Morgana onto the bed.


She wrapped her legs eagerly around him, and he thrust into her. She gripped the sheets as he fucked her, pounding into her with all the rage and anger she inspired within him. He gave into it, and lost something of himself in the act, something she now had that he could never reclaim. It was a part of his innocence, a part of his need to believe he could change her.


This time he didn’t have to hold back his cries. This time Merlin reveled in the violence of the way he took Morgana. There was no kindness in this, only lust and hate and raw desire. He came harder than he’d ever imagined he could, and then collapsed onto her.


Morgana surprisingly gave him the time he needed to collect himself before attempting to push him away. She looked shocked when he gripped her face and forced her to look at him.


“Don’t think that because I’m willing to fuck you, I’m not willing to kill you. The day will come when I’ll have the chance to stop you. I’ll show Uther and Arthur who you really are. I’ll throw you to the wolves and I’ll do it with a smile on my face.”


He pulled out and fastened his trousers, enjoying the speechless surprise on Morgana’s face. She recovered and closed her legs, her face full of rage.


“Merlin!”


He walked from the room, pulling the door shut on her impotent threats.