Merlin fic!

Title: Swords and Magic
rating: G or PG
words: around 12k
Summary: They clash together like lightning...
Characters: Morgause, Lynette, Morgana
warnings/spoilers: Mention of season one character death, vague spoilers until 3.2
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC
unbetaed so excuse any mistakes...english is not my native tongue..

Most people could see the Isle of the Blessed, which was sometimes called Avalon, if they actually looked for it. They never try to, however, willing to believe that there was nothing but fog out there, fog and illusions. Morgause is not like most people. She feels in her bones the storm breaking out above the Isle and the powers that rage beneath it. When the clouds over the ever sunny island disappear she moves to her crystals.
She whispers Nimueh's name. The crystal is blank. The island is empty.
Most people, upon hearing about the death of a beloved to them person would be devastated or at least allow themselves a moment of grief. Morgause isn't like most people. She wraps magic around her like a cloak and rides, unseen, with her face devoid of feeling towards her old home. The duty of the priestess lays heavy upon her shoulder and it doesn't allow time for feelings.
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She walks into the castle easily, passing through the webs of Nimueh's magic without any trouble, slipping through the cracks in it. She kneels in front of the altar in the great hall placing her hand on the stone in front of her.
"Nimueh is dead." She says, her voice not cracking and all of Nimueh's spells around the island dissolve. For the first time in nearly twenty years the island is visible for everyone to see, clear as a day.  "I, born as Anna, raised here as Morgause by the world stand before you asking to take her place."
She lets her eyes flutter close and feels the old magic hum inside her. It brings old promises and brand new duties with it. She opens her eyes and the head priestess stands. With a word the island is hidden from the world again. And it is time to honor the dead.
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The girl walks on the island nearly a month later dressed in hard leather underneath her dress. She has no magic in her blood, Morgause would feel it if she was just like she felt the soft steps on the coast, just like she heard the sound of a sword unsheathing behind her at the edge of the orchard. She has no magic and yet she found the Isle, walked passed all of the protective spells like they were nothing.
Morgause turns to meet her with her sword at hand.
They clash together like lightning.
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"Yield" the girl commands, as she stands with her sword resting on Morgause's neck. Her hair falls around her face dark and straight as rain.
The priestess nods curtly and lets herself be pulled at her feet.
"Your name." she says "I demand to hear it." The sentiment is far too heavy all things considered and her anger sounds misplaced there, beneath the peach and apple trees.
The girl laughs throwing back her head. Her skin is tanned and brown and beautiful. Not in the way the ladies in court are, white porcelain and gold but beautiful like a wild cat. Graceful and elegant in her own way.
"You can't demand anything, sorceress. I bested you. Don't forget. I am Lynette, called the gray falcon by my friends and the savage damsel by the rest of the world. Good day to you witch."
She turns to leave and Morgause finds herself calling her name.
"The peaches are ripe for picking. Would you care for some?"
Lynette does not turn. She waves her arm and walks away. "I do not trust the gifts of a sorceress. They often are double-edged. Goodbye."
Morgause feels it as the girl steps down towards the beach and when she sails away from the island. She doesn't try to stop her.
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People said Nimueh had gone insane near the end. In the loneliness of the island Morgause doesn't find it that hard to believe. She leaves for Camelot barely a month after Lynette's visit. It's too early, she knows and Arthur is not ready yet but she can't stay there any longer.
The woods are too silent, the house is empty and she feels she's slowly losing herself.
She wonders if that was how it started with Nimueh too, after Ygraine died and she sent the other priestesses away from the Isle.
She won't stay to find out.
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She fights the boy, the prince, the golden legend and future king and mimics some of the moves Lynette used in their fight not so long and yet a lifetime ago.
She is pleased to see him fall.
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She doesn't meet him in the Isle. There are too many reasons not to.
The son of the betrayer can't walk the holly grounds as long as Uther lives, the woods whisper to her.
It is not yet time for him to lie in Avalon, the caves on the shore wail with the voice of the waves when she passes by.
You are not important enough to try and change his destiny, she reads on the stars.
Revenge is not a part of your duty as the priestess, is what her heart says. It is for the memory of Ygraine and Nimueh that you're doing this. For Morgana. For yourself. You will not deceive yourself to believe otherwise.
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She isn't going back to the island. She waits there, hidden by magic and nature alike until Morgana is ready to see her again. And she will wait. She made a mistake with Arthur in her haste and it cost her power over him. She isn't willing to take that chance again, no, not with Morgana.
So she waits and searches for a way that a mere human could be immune to the magic of the high priestess of the old religion. The books are silent though and the stories of the old crones don't satisfy her.
She waits. She can do nothing else.
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She meets Lynette again one year later, on her way to Cenred's castle.
They sit together by the fire and they share bread and meat like old comrades on a campaign. They do not talk, not really. There are no polite greetings, no fixed smiles. When Morgause arrived Lynette looked up and made space near the fire. It was easy and simple and the sorceress found herself smiling.
"Do you happen to have any cheese on you? Or maybe some ale?" Lynette asks cutting the small hare in two and passing her a piece.
"You wouldn't trust a sorceress's peaches but you will trust her food?"
Lynette looks at her, brown eyes warm and soft in the firelight.
"It's been a year, witch. When you're in the road for so long it changes you. One of the things I learned is never to say no to food and drink. I've been hungry more over than not."
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"The name's Morgause."
"I know. I heard about you."
"People talk about me?"
"For a price…"
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Most people upon meeting a person they felt comfortable with would talk all night, bond and share secrets. Morgause wasn't like most people and neither, she supposes, was Lynette.
They took turns watching the fire and spent most of the night in silence but it's a comfortable silence and she does not mind it. When the sun comes out Lynette helps her put the fire out and catches her hand with hers in a strong grip.
"Good day Morgause." She says warmly with a smile and turns quickly walking away.
"Until we meet again." She answers and knows it in her bones that they will.
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Autumn comes swiftly and she travels back to the Isle without Morgana and without the victory she so craved for.
She feels the land sigh in relief when she steps on the shore and pauses to run her hands softly on the ground. The time for war has passed as winter draws near and it's time for her to be a priestess again. There's much to be done that she's neglected.
The trees are heavy with apples and the sky is always clear above her head.
She wishes it'd rain.
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The first time she took Morgana to the Isle her sister was unconscious. Morgause carried mattresses in front of the altar, laid Morgana's body there and cared for her until the poison left her body. She thanked the gods when she finally opened her eyes and took her away from the island the same day.
The second time she took Morgana to the Isle, Uther Pendragon had died and she needed a place to hide, to grow. Morgause held her hand and the moment they stepped on the shore she felt the land sing with joy…
She turned to look at her sister and saw a new priestess, a new woman, a legend in Morgana's eyes.
"As a priestess you are born again." She says under the half moon that night. "And the world shall know you as Morgan le Fay."
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"It is a terrible thing to be outshined by one's own sister." Morgause finds herself saying as she makes space for Lynette to sit next to her near the fire.
She had left the island with no notion of where she was going to go, just the bone crushing knowledge that everything would be fine with just Morgana there, everything would be better than it was when she was with her.
She asked and paid and learned that the king, King Arthur, had, indeed, a damosel errant and yes, she had black straight hair and her skin was dark from the sun. "She has a sharp tongue," a man said to her "and they call her the Savage damsel." There was no reason to smile at this and yet Morgause did as soon as she turned away from the man and rode to where he said Lynette and her party would be.
She rode and passed by them quickly hidden by shadows and the trees and waited at the clearing for them to see her. The others did not trust her; they made their camp away from the small fire she had lit. Lynette though after a few whispered words with her comrades walked and sat by her.
"I used to feel that way too." Lynette says after a while.
"Not anymore then?"
The woman's face, for a woman she is now and no longer a girl, softens and her voice is filled with a fierce loyalty and a deep devotion when she speaks.
"I am one with the knights. I wear King Arthur's crest upon my breast. My sister is the husband of the most gallant of knights but I get to ride out with the memory of Excalibur on my shoulder and my hands between his as I was knighted. No man on earth is worth giving up this feeling."
"I have no love for Arthur" Morgause says, "And nor has he any love for me."
She wishes she was able to believe that he will be worthy of the loyalty of his men. But she has held Morgana too many times as she screamed of crimes and sins yet undone to be able to do so.
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"You should try coming back to the court. The king is kind. He'd forgive you if you repented."
"What has he done and you believe in him so?"
"He is my King."
"Kings fall."
"Not him."
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They shake hands just as the sun comes out. It feels too much like goodbye and as Morgause opens her mouth to comment on it Lynette pulls her close and buries her head in her hair.
"Goodbye." She says and smiles before walking away to her horse.
Morgause doesn't stop her.
Too small, stars told her once, too small to change the world's destiny.
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She is old and everyone she once knew seems to be dead. Even Arthur, the once and future, lies in one of the caves of the isle, his knights on stone beds around him. Some say they are sleeping, some say they have died. Morgause doesn't know.  
The walls of the cave are silent and she never walked in. Merlin, now trapped into the very stone, has woven a shield with magic stronger than Morgause had ever dreamed of.
She is too old to try and too lonely.
She spends her days in the orchard, tending to the trees. It's summer, the first summer since the King has passed away and the peaches are tastier than ever.
She doesn't feel the boat reach the harbor nor does she hear the footsteps behind her.
"Old friend…" Lynette says, her hair gray, her skin wrinkled, her eyes tired.  
"The peaches are ripe. Will you help me pluck some?" she asks "I'll take you to rest after that…I believe there's a bed saved for you near here."
"Yes…" Lynette smiles and as they eat her skin smooths and her hair turn black.
The girl, no older than nineteen hugs the old woman and smiles.
"Good day my friend." She says and walks away from the garden. Morgause feels her steps walk across the shore and through the webs of magic that guard the caves. And then she is gone.
"Until we meet again." Morgause says and knows it in her heart to be a lie.