Morning After

Jon would’ve sworn that he felt the barest brush of lips on his forehead, but when he cracked his eyes open, he was alone in the bed. Looking around the room, he realized he wasn’t just alone in the bed. Flopping back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. “Are you in hide and seek mode?”

His voice had been soft and husky from sleep. It was so damn beguiling. She almost spoke up from her hiding spot on top of his wardrobe, but somehow she was able to resist the pull of him. He was beautiful with his hair ruffled from sleep and a day's growth of whiskers shadowing his jaw. The early morning light peeking through the blinds on the window danced with the shadows across his chest highlighting every muscled curve and plane.

“Damn, Fee,” he said on a rush of air as he sat up on the edge of the bed. “I thought we were past this.”

Fiona watched as he combed his hair with his fingers and stood up. Her breath hitched then caught in her chest as she watched him cross to the bathroom. He had no shame in his nudity.

As well he shouldn’t.

She smiled and shook her head slightly before she blinked out, reappearing only briefly in Jon’s backyard beside the Ring. A little time to herself had now become a necessity. Her favorite private place was pulling at her, and she needed the Ring to get there.

Eons ago, right after the fall of Arthur, Merlin and the other Elders had used their powerful magic to conceal Camelot. It had to be protected from not only evil, but from mortals as well. Evil would have loved to get control of the strong concentration of magic contained in that small area. Time spent here in this place was far different than in the mortal realm, and different still from Tír na nÓg. Fiona could spend hours here contemplating the danger and foolhardiness of having sex with Jon, and return to the mortal realm only minutes after she’d left.

She hurried across the meadow below the castle only briefly glancing up at its beautiful white stone walls perched on the hilltop. Banners no longer fluttered in the wind atop the battlements to show whether or not a King was in residence, but everyone knew where Arthur rested now. There were still Fey residing in the castle proper, but Fiona wanted to avoid them.

Once she made it to the line of trees, she moved quickly to her spot. Carefully, she climbed up on the big stone boulder surrounded by rocks of various sizes that rose up beside the babbling creek that wound through the trees and ran behind the tall walls of Camelot. Only one other person would even know to look for her here.


Once Jon was dressed, he started to leave his room, but stopped in the doorway. He glanced down at his right hand, flexing it open and then closing it into a fist. Excalibur was missing from his hand, and his palm itched with the need to wrap around the hilt of the sword again, to feel the hum and throb of the metal’s heartbeat matching his own heart’s rhythm. He glanced over his shoulder at his dresser. Would it be totally ridiculous of him to drag the sword with him to the kitchen? He was afraid to let it get too far away from him. What if they were attacked again? He didn’t know much about the devil, but he surmised that if he was related to Fiona and her sister, and could control demon creatures, it would be no big thing for him to find them anywhere, even in Jon’s own house. No, better to be prepared.

Having convinced himself it was more out of a need to protect himself and Richie along with the fairies, rather than a need to just have the sword in his hand again, he swiftly strode across the room and picked up Excalibur. It fit so well in his hand, his fingers resting in the slight dips in the hilt that had been worn into the handle by some other Chosen One years before, but seemed to be a perfect fit for his hand as well, crooked finger and all. He expected the sword to once again adjust to his heartbeat, so was surprised that it already had the same rhythm of his pulse.

Minutes later, he strode into the kitchen intending to make coffee and get ready to face whatever this day threw at him. Richie already sat at the bar, his hands cupped around a mug of steaming coffee. Carefully, Jon laid the sword on the counter in front of Richie and went to pour himself a cup.

Turning from the machine, he saw darkness in Richie’s features; something he hadn’t seen for some time. Something he had hoped he would never see again. “What’s up, bro? You look like shit. Your ribs still hurt?”

Richie managed a meager smile. “You’re seriously commenting on what I look like? You, a sword-toting moron who…”

Jon interrupted, “Who got some fairy ass last night.”

Richie spit out his coffee, laughing. “Jesus, Jon.”

“What, since when do we not gloat when a great night of sex has been had?” His blue eyes twinkled as he took a sip from his mug. “Seriously, bro, what’s eating you?” He smirked. “Or not eating you?”

“Fuck you, man,” Richie said. “I saw some shit last night that freaked me the fuck out.”

“What, Morganna has Goth ink or fucked up piercings?”

Richie leveled his best ‘cut the shit’ stare at his best friend. “That I could have handled. No, this is really messed up. Remember how when we were fighting, she called me Accolon?” Jon nodded and Richie continued. “Well, it turns out that I am a dead ringer for her dead ex-boyfriend. I mean shit, it was like looking at ME from when I was thirty.”

Richie explained to Jon how Morganna fixed his ribs, about the Merlin conversation, then about how she showed him images from her memory of Accolon, including the brief sexual scene he witnessed.

Jon whistled. “Damn, Rich, so you’re really okay? I mean healed.”

“That’s the part of the conversation you wanna focus on?”

“Well yeah, the rest is just bullshit. Okay, so we get you a sword, and sooner or later, she will succumb to the charms of the King of Swing, right?” He saw the murderous look in Richie’s face and put up his hands in a placating motion. “Okay, okay, never mind about you tapping your fairy. The important thing is, you’re healed.”

“We are Fey,” Fiona corrected, coming into the kitchen, feeling refreshed from her meditations. “And what does it mean to tap?” She poured a mug of coffee and leaned against the counter, waiting.

Richie swallowed a laugh at the slack-jawed horror in Jon’s face. “Fiona, it’s just an expression, it means that you and he –”

They were interrupted by a loud clap of thunder, and the dimming of lights.

“Merlin,” Fiona said in a barely tolerant voice, “the theatrics are hardly necessary.”

“Sister!” Morganna gasped as she blinked into the room. “Show some respect.” She slid a glance at Richie, who refused to look at her.

“What the hell is going on?” Jon asked.

“Merlin has arrived,” Morganna answered, meeting Jon’s steady gaze. “Come, let us see what he needs.” This time, when she looked at Richie, he met her stare. She nodded imperceptively, and led them from the kitchen.

“Merlin,” Jon intonted, nodding respectfully.

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Aye, and so what do you want now? What manner of nonsense do we need to make sense of today?”

Merlin looked fondly at the little fairy. “Fiona, you do make the day more interesting. I have come with your next set of instructions.”

“Oh, I can hardly wait,” Fiona said, scowling.

Merlin leveled an icy stare at her and recited,

”A gift is required from one long gone
A warrior with ties to one of our own
Forge’d from gold from a city long lost
It must be recovered no matter the cost
The warrior new must alone fetch his prize
And be wary of he who tells nothing but lies
Be sure not to linger lest ye not be saved
For you wish not this tomb to become thine own grave.”

Fiona was agitated. “And wha' in da HELL is that supposed ta mean?” She hadn’t noticed her sister had gone pale. “If ya be thinkin' you’re helping, you’re no'.”

“Easy Fee,” Jon said, putting a hand on her forearm. Merlin noticed the friendly contact and raised an eyebrow at Fiona, who blushed, and inched away from Jon.

“You will discern its meaning before long,” Merlin promised. “Really, you have no choice.” He looked at Jon and Richie. “Of one thing you can be sure, gentlemen, that your foe is powerful. He is a master of trickery and subterfuge.”

“Unlack ye, Merlin, who is oh SO clear an' concise,” Fiona muttered.

Merlin gave Fiona an indulgent smile and disappeared. Fiona, shaking her head, turned to her sister. “Wha' do ye make of – what’s wrong?”

Morganna looked at Richie, then at the spot where Merlin had disappeared. “Oh no,” she said, and vanished from view.

“’Oh no’, what?” Jon asked. “What did we miss?”

Fiona looked at the spot where Morganna had stood a moment before. “I do believe she knows what Merlin is talking about.”

“Do you?” Jon asked. Fiona shook her head in the negative.

“Is Morganna coming back?” Richie asked softly.

“Aye, she will,” Fiona said. “But in the meantime, we should start deciphering this latest rhyme, yes?”