We Will Be
by imp

We Will Be

imp

Summary

Morgana and Gwen fall in love. And then there's a slug. Spoilers through the last ep of S1; thanks to stealstheashes @ LJ for the beta.

Notes

None

Chapter One

Morgana was a flirt.

She flirted with boys, with men, with courtiers of both genders and varying ages. She flirted with education, with mastery of weapons, with horsemanship. All of this she told Gwen – what Gwen did not witness herself, anyway.

Yesterday she had flirted with treason. That, she had not told Gwen.

"You've got it all wrong, anyway," Gwen said when Morgana explained the (nearly complete) extent of her flirting. "You hardly flirt with swordsmanship. You're quite good. And you're far more intelligent than I'll ever be, and -"

"Gwen." She saw Gwen flinch at the sharp tone, so she was careful to moderate it when she added, "You're not stupid. Uneducated in some areas, perhaps, but not stupid."

Gwen kept her eyes on the floor. "That may be true, my lady, but we'll never know. I haven't the opportunity to test what intelligence I may have."

"Don't say that," Morgana said, taking an impulsive step forward.

Gwen reached out to stop her, her hand catching on a fold of Morgana's dress. "No. Please, I...don't wish to have it proven either way." She tilted her chin up, catching Morgana's eyes with hers and smiling. "I'm happy."

Morgana took a step back then – not because she wanted to, but because there was the slightest suggestion of grief about Gwen's eyes still, grief Morgana couldn't assuage.

"You're free to go," she said finally. "I require nothing more tonight."

Gwen curtsied and left wordlessly, clearly sensing the unusual formality better even than Morgana had, for all that she'd been the one to initiate it.

Only when Gwen's footsteps faded did Morgana bolt the door. She hardly wanted Gwen to feel that Morgana wished to lock her out, though that was Morgana's intention; she did not fear for her bodily safety here in Uther's castle, but her mind was troubled, and something about Gwen's presence just made it worse.

Peaceful sleep had become, of late, a luxury. It was not one she was granted that night. Bits of visions flashed before her eyes, both innocuous and terrifying: Arthur impaled on the sword of a child, Merlin's bright, almost uncanny eyes, a storm gathered over a round table, Gwen's face and strong, warm hands.

It was the last that lingered, as it had many nights prior to this one; in her sleep, Morgana frowned and tried to push it away. She wanted no part of these dreams, both the true and the false ones. Her dream-self knew that as well as her waking consciousness.

When she woke, pale light was making its way through the curtains. She yawned and stretched, idly wondering if the day would be disrupted by a rogue monster or mysterious happenings that Merlin, wide-eyed, would deny he had any connection to. She knew most of the court – Arthur included, she suspected, though she wouldn't presume to know Arthur's idiot mind – thought him a fool. She did too, on occasion, but for a different reason: whatever his power, he either would not or could not keep it hidden. Uther was impetuous and often a tyrant, but he wasn't as blind as Merlin was clearly gambling on.

She would tell him, someday, hopefully before it was too late. Not today, though; today she had to dress in gaudy finery and listen to Uther tell peasant after peasant that their complaint with the crown was to be ignored.

It was an uncharitable thought, for all that she'd come close to killing the man. Treason, she'd learned, was bitter, but doubt was even worse.

She rang the bell for Gwen and tapped her fingers on her blankets, waiting. It usually only took Gwen a few minutes; Morgana always suspected she was up early. Sewing, perhaps, or chatting with the other servants, or -

"I'm just saying, she'll flay you alive and you'll deserve it."

"I could have you flayed for saying that," Arthur said, and pounded a fist on Morgana's door.

"Not for all the gold in Camelot," Morgana said, pitching her voice to carry in as nasty a tone as she could manage.

"Open the door, woman," Arthur said, "or I'll have Merlin break it down."

The moniker made her lip curl, but she laughed in spite of herself. "Merlin? He could hardly lift the latch."

"Hey," Merlin said, but he didn't sound even remotely indignant.

"It's true, you know," Arthur said, and pounded the door again. "Open up! I can break it down."

Morgana rolled her eyes – but she'd have to open it for Gwen, anyway, so she got out of bed and unlocked it. "You couldn't, and nor could three of your knights. Or had you forgotten that the castle was designed as a fortress? Less wine and dallying, my lord, and more time studying. We can't have a dolt as a king."

"What have you done with Uther's ward, witch? We have a dolt now, the true Lady Morgana would say."

"Arthur doesn't drink or dally anyway," Merlin piped up. "Um. My lady," he added when Arthur glared at him.

"He's a bit too boring for it, I agree," Morgana said smoothly. "What is it, then?"

"We're going hunting," Arthur said.

Morgana raised her eyebrows, waiting. Arthur was standing oddly, pursing his lips and hunching his shoulders. He looked like a child begging for a treat, a stance he'd never used to assume with Morgana – or anyone else, for that matter. She didn't need prophetic dreams to see Merlin's influence written all over him. "I'm sorry, but how does that concern me?"

Arthur turned a deep, dark red. "I'd hoped – I mean, I had thought that perhaps you might..."

Merlin sighed noisily. "We're going hunting now, my lady, because he doesn't want to participate in court audience today. I don't know why, because it's only a few hours, and I'm rubbish at hunting anyway so we'll likely spend the day splashing in streams and wishing we were girls so we could pick flowers, but -" He bit the hand Arthur clapped over his mouth and continued, ignoring Arthur's curse. "But that's what we're doing. And he wants you to lie to Uther about it, because we haven't the courage."

"You really are simple-minded," Arthur said.

Hunting? Morgana barely restrained a laugh. "You have my apologies, Prince Arthur, but if you want to tell Uther you prefer making daisy crowns for your servant rather than participating in the governing of the kingdom, I'm afraid you'll have to do it yourself."

Arthur spluttered. "Listen, I went to Uther when you were in the dungeon, I think you owe me a turn or two."

"Perhaps. Not this one, though." Merlin was grinning at her, she noticed – and a terrible, wicked, amazing idea bloomed in her mind. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to Merlin...privately."

"What!"

But before Arthur could do anything but yell, Morgana had grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled him into her chambers, shutting the door in Arthur's face. She took great satisfaction in turning the lock even as his fists began to pound.

"Now," she said, turning around.

She almost lost herself to laughter then, because Merlin was staring at her with eyes as round as saucers, looking completely terrified.

"My, ah, my lady?"

"Relax, Merlin, I'm not going to hurt you." She leaned against the door. "He's just so fun when he gets like this. Don't you object to being treated like a favored pet?"

That got a blush out of him. "I've never really thought about it. Gwen says -"

She watched, fascinated, as his blush became even more intense. "Gwen says what, Merlin?"

Merlin shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell you."

The court could have written entire books composed solely of jokes about Morgana's temper, but even that humiliating knowledge didn't stop anger from curling in her stomach. "Perhaps Arthur was correct in his estimation of your intelligence. Why do you think you may deny me information I wish you to divulge?"

"Because Gwen asked me not to tell you, and you won't go against her will." Merlin tilted his chin defiantly. "My lady."

It was like running into a wall. Merlin was right; Gwen was very possibly the only person Morgana would permit to have secrets. She'd even ferreted out most of Uther's, less because she wanted to control him and more because she wanted to know. Couldn't help but know, lately, with the dreams.

But Gwen was different. "I apologize, then," she said finally. "You of course must not tell me, if it would betray a confidence."

"Thank you, my lady," Merlin said, and stood with his eyes on the door.

He was so single-minded. "And I'll release you now," she said. "Well – in a moment."

Merlin looked up at her, confused. "My lady?"

She couldn't stop the grin from stealing over her face as she mussed his hair and pinched his lips and cheeks. "He's not happy without something to be angry about," she said, and opened the door.

Arthur's face immediately became thunderous, as she'd known it would. She smiled brightly. "I'll see you soon, Merlin."

"Um," Merlin said. Arthur reached out and yanked him backwards, all but dragging him down the hall.

Morgana was about to close the door when she saw Gwen turn a corner, almost bumping into Arthur. "My lady?" Gwen said curiously when she was closer.

"It's of no great consequence," Morgana said. But at Gwen's continued dubious look she gave into temptation and added, "Arthur was just deceived about the nature of my and Merlin's private talk, is all."

Gwen's eyes widened. "Is that safe? He'll have your head."

"Gwen, please, I hardly think he's that protective. Merlin can take care of himself." Morgana moved past Gwen and closed the door, ignoring the vaguely guilty look Gwen always got when she saw Morgana do something she herself could have done. "Now, we've more important matters to discuss. Tomorrow I've got to play the young foil to Uther's harsh king."

Gwen blinked at her blankly. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The second son of a second son is visiting."

"I hardly see how that concerns you. You're Uther's ward."

"This particular second son could depose Uther if he so chose." Morgana smiled, perfectly aware of how bitter it looked yet unwilling to moderate her expression. Not for Gwen. "Politics are so messy when a man conquers the throne."

"You don't sound so displeased."

"I enjoy playing the fool. And besides, I'll have you to help me."

Gwen took a full step back. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm to entertain him as best as I'm able, Uther tells me. My order to you is to faint if I give you the signal. It shouldn't be that dull, but one can never be too careful."

"I thought you said you'd enjoy it," Gwen said, sounding shaken.

She had. Curse it. "Yes, well." I want you there regardless, she didn't say. "As I said, one can never be too careful."

Gwen looked dubious, as though Morgana had just announced intentions to abandon the court in favor of trapping wild animals in the mountains. "Whatever you say, my lady," she said finally.

Arthur had regaled her with tales about Merlin's insolence, but Gwen never spoke out of turn unless she feared for Morgana's safety. Morgana wished for a way to make Arthur aware of how lucky he was without revealing her own sentiments; a confidant, even one so arrogant and dull-witted, would have been welcome.

"My lady?" Gwen said again, and Morgana realized she'd been mooning too long. Over her maidservant.

"Yes? You know where my underthings are, Gwen. We haven't all day."

Gwen reacted predictably to the hauteur, keeping quiet and hurrying to get Morgana dressed. It didn't suit her at all; Gwen wasn't the sort to prattle, but subservience did her no favors. And yet Morgana could not order her to talk, or to be easy even when Morgana was snappish. Morgana's own nature and station prohibited that.

The day was boring. Uther was angry about Arthur, of course, and blaming Arthur's "dolt of a servant", which didn't even make sense; Merlin was hardly the sort to entice anyone to shirk responsibility for time spent outdoors. Gwen clearly agreed, as every time Morgana glanced back at her she wore the same expression, self-restraint evidenced in how she wasn't quite rolling her eyes.

As soon as the onerous march of petitioners began to dwindle, Morgana took hold of Gwen's hand and tugged her into an alcove. "Don't you ever get tired of being a servant?"

Gwen blinked up at her. "It's what most people I know are, my lady. Servants or tradespeople, the one hardly easier than the other."

Morgana couldn't explain the impatience that rose within her, more potent than the fear that always accompanied her too-true nightmares. "Yes, but you watch me, with my life of ease. Aren't you ever jealous? What of Arthur, or even Merlin? The boy is free to do almost anything and Arthur seldom even puts him in the stocks."

"I serve you. That's more than enough for me." Gwen dropped her eyes again abruptly. "My lady."

Anger replaced her impatience, sudden and painful. She half wanted to strike Gwen, and the desire almost made her recoil."You didn't answer me, Gwen. What of Arthur and Merlin?"

Gwen shrugged, her shoulder straining against a dress Morgana was suddenly convinced was far too thin. "What of them? Arthur's destiny is great, anyone can see that."

As was Merlin's, Morgana knew, but she couldn't tell even Gwen that. "But what of your destiny, Gwen? What of mine?"

"You could hardly be anything but great, Morgana."

"But what of you? I -" Morgana balled her hands into fists helplessly. "What of you, Gwen?"

"I'll follow you until I die," Gwen said.

"That means little," Morgana said. "Have you no thought for your own destiny?"

Gwen took a step sideways, out of the alcove and into the walkway. "That is my destiny, my lady," she said. "Do you require anything else?"

That was Gwen's way of all but begging. Morgana cursed herself for foolishness: she should know better than to press Gwen, when Gwen could do nothing but petition for relief. "No," she said. "But please, don't trouble yourself for the rest of today. Come to me tomorrow refreshed."

"Has my service been lacking today, my lady?"

"No! No, of course not. But..." Morgana sighed. "I just want to give you some rest."

That, at least, made Gwen smile – if only slightly. "Thank you, then. My lady."

Morgana bowed her head deeply, carefully holding back a smile as she heard Gwen's gasp. It was a higher honor than tomorrow's visiting second son would receive. "Good day, Guinevere."

"Good day."

Morgana didn't raise her head until Gwen's footsteps had died down. When she did, it was to see Arthur leaning against a wall, smirking at her. "Clever."

"You're back early."

"Fortunately, it seems. I'd hate to miss the theatrics."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."

"You show her respect, perhaps she'll stop being so scared of you. Call you by name, maybe. Allow you to touch her hand."

"Arthur!"

"What? That's what you want, isn't it? I'm not as blind as all that."

She would slap him and not be sorry in the slightest. "You're a prat."

"For pointing out how badly you need a friend?" Arthur laughed. "Honestly, Morgana, you're a bit touchy for a courtier."

It felt like a physical blow. "I don't – I didn't -"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

"Nothing," she said hastily. "I've business to attend to. Good day."

Arthur let her go, mercifully. He enjoyed needling her even when there was no truth in his taunting.

She sat alone in her chamber until will after the sun set, ignoring the maid who came to inquire after her desires for supper. She couldn't explain the strange hollowness at the pit of her stomach any more than she could explain the conclusions she'd jumped to with Arthur's teasing. Perhaps she truly did need a friend – one who wasn't a servant or a distant political alliance.

Even as she closed her eyes, she mulled over the problem. A friend – a person, then, to hold close, to tell secrets to. A friend to love, as her nursemaid had told her women were wont to have, long before Morgana had reached her full growth.

A friend.

||

It was dark in her dreams, as it always was. The road she stood on was lit with lanterns that glowed bright from no fire, natural or magical, that Morgana had ever seen or imagined. The road forked infinitely, and Morgana kicked pebbles down it idly, watching as they took one fork or another, waiting for the terror that always accompanied these nightmares.

"Do you really call them that?"

Morgana whirled around. "Gwen," she said, stunned. For it was Gwen, standing in the middle of the road, as solid as Morgana herself, though not dressed as any servant of Camelot should be. Her dress was richly colored silk, her neck adorned with delicate gold jewelry. "You look like a queen."

"They're not nightmares," Gwen said calmly. "They're true, as you're well aware."

It was her dream, Morgana reminded herself. She could answer Gwen freely without fear. "I'm afraid," she said after a few minutes.

"Don't be," Gwen said. "I've seen you afraid. It leads to suffering."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not given to know your own future. None of us are. But I can show you your fears." Gwen put a hand out, and a boy appeared, his head against her palm.

"Mordred," Morgana whispered.

"You could hate Uther," Gwen said.

But she wouldn't allow herself to lie, even in Gwen's shape. "I did hate Uther."

"You could hate the Pendragons and all they ever will be."

She thought of Arthur's carefully maintained features, his arrogant manner of speech. "I could."

"And you'll ruin them." Gwen's smile looked wistful. "It's why I care for you so, you know. If you wanted to, you could be the end of everything."

It was a dream, Morgana reminded herself firmly. She willed her voice not to shake. "I need to rest for tomorrow."

"I could tell you about tomorrow."

"You won't," Morgana said, and closed her eyes.

She woke silently this time; it was a small blessing. Grey light was just beginning to stream through the curtains. She lay still until Gwen knocked, carrying a tray. "Good morning, my lady," she said, tone as gentle and steady as ever. "I've brought your meal. Uther will require your presence as soon as you're able."

What of Gwen's destiny, then? She thought of the figure in the dream, dressed in finery. What of Gwen?

What of she herself?

"We're not going," she said, the idea blooming in her mind even as she spoke the words.

Gwen's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "What?"

"If Uther can forgive his son ignoring one of the most important practices of the crown, he can forgive his ward ignoring a second son who most likely won't try for the throne anyway. We're leaving the castle before Uther wakes."

"The message that was passed on to me said he'd be in the throne room within the hour, my lady."

"Then we'd best hurry," Morgana said, pushing her covers back. "Quickly now, fetch my riding outfit."

Gwen was clearly flustered, but she was a lady's maid; she would obey Morgana above all others, possibly even Uther. Morgana watched with satisfaction as Gwen hastened her usual movements, pinning Morgana's hair back and clasping both their cloaks.

"May I ask where we're going?" she said as they walked to the stables.

"Away," Morgana said. "I hardly think Arthur and Merlin went hunting for those few hours yesterday. And if they're free to wander and look at the scenery, why shouldn't we be?"

"Uther will be furious."

Morgana touched her wrists almost without meaning to, feeling the almost-healed abrasions. "I think he'll be relieved that this is the extent of our rebellion."

"You're not terribly nice, you know."

Taken aback, Morgana blinked at Gwen. "Pardon?"

"You'd kill Uther if you thought he deserved it, without a thought. Even Gaius -"

"Hold your tongue," Morgana snapped. "You speak of treason."

"And you don't? I saw the marks, Morgana. I know what Uther did. Do you mean to tell me you didn't at least think about double-crossing him?"

And of course she'd more than thought of it, but not for herself. Never for herself. For Gwen, who now looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, but no real fear. "I will never turn against our king so long as he is just," she said finally. "And...I will never turn against you."

"I haven't the power to be just. I'm not sure I would be if I did."

She thought again of Gwen as she'd been in the dream, dressed in rich silks. The world would be at that Gwen's feet. "Perhaps," Morgana said. "But perhaps some day, my fate may rest in your hands."

"I hope not," Gwen said. She opened the door to the stables for Morgana, who went directly to her preferred mount. The stable boys couldn't possibly have missed hearing about today's events, but they saddled her horse and a mare for Gwen without argument.

The morning was just beginning as they rode out of the village. Morgana let her horse drop back a bit so that she could watch Gwen's face, the way the sunlight caught on her eyes and threw shadows over her skin. "It's a beautiful morning," Gwen said – ignorant of Morgana's regard or choosing to ignore it, Morgana couldn't tell.

"It's our morning," Morgana said.

"You seem preoccupied with that. Us, our destinies. Our lives."

"I tire of thinking about Arthur's," Morgana said.

"You care for him. Please don't pretend you don't, my lady."

"I do, but not..." She sighed, forcing the words out. "Not as a lover. He's just a boy in so many ways."

"He'll be king."

"He'll be a great king. But that doesn't mean we must forsake our own destinies, Gwen."

"You sound rather like a soothsayer," Gwen said.

Morgana had her knife drawn and against Gwen's throat before she realized what she was doing. "Never speak of me that way," she snarled, grabbing the reins of Gwen's mare when it whinnied and tried to pull away.

"Morgana," Gwen said. Her voice was but a sliver of sound, thinner than the finest threads used in embroidery. "Morgana, please, it was only a comparison, I didn't mean anything by it. I -"

Morgana realized two things as one, a flash of insight that left her gasping: Gwen had called her by name, and Morgana's hand had been unsteady enough to prick Gwen's skin. She lowered the knife and stared at the drop of blood welling up against Gwen's skin. "My apologies. I don't know what came over me."

"I didn't intend to speak treason," Gwen said. She guided her mare a short distance away from Morgana. Morgana told herself the hurt she felt was entirely irrational. "I only meant it as a description, not an – not an indication of any power on your part."

"Such a description could have both of us put to death, should Uther hear of it." She resheathed the knife and guided her horse into a trot. "See that you remember next time."

"Yes, my lady."

Gwen followed her after that, riding more like a true maidservant than a companion. Morgana wanted to ask – beg, even – her to ride alongside again, but she knew there were some things that should never be ordered.

Besides, she wasn't entirely sure she could stand to see fear in Gwen's eyes.

They rode for a few hours, until the rolling, cultivated countryside became wilder, trees more frequent. Magic was out here, Morgana suspected; Uther controlled the village with an iron fist, but here there was room for the Druids, for sorcerers and witches, provided they knew how to hide.

Uther had often said, face grim, "Magic will always out itself." Morgana thought of her nightmares and was none so certain that he spoke the truth. Hiding could be as much a part of sorcery as gaudy displays.

"My lady? There's a stream up ahead, if you'd like to stop."

Gwen was unaccustomed to riding distances, Morgana remembered, and nodded. "Yes, let's."

They were uncomfortably silent as the horses drank from the stream. Morgana was glad enough to sit in the grass, aware though she was that she'd have mud and disapproving stares from the nobles to contend with later. Gwen sat next to her, still silent and obviously nervous.

"I almost feel as though the sky is a different color," Morgana said finally.

Gwen didn't quite wince. "It looks blue to me, my lady."

She'd wiped the blood off, Morgana saw, but there was still a dull, dark mark from where the blood had dried on the cut. "Something about leaving the village always makes me think of magic."

"My lady -"

"You called me Morgana before."

Gwen's eyes were wide, frightened; and yet, Morgana didn't have the will to force herself to let well enough alone. "I did, my lady," Gwen said. "But I was terrified."

Morgana reached out, her hand moving almost without permission, to touch the cut. "I saw. Will you forgive me?"

"Always," Gwen all but whispered.

Sheer force of will helped her stand up, her hand losing contact with Gwen's face. "We should hurry back," she said. "I think a storm's coming on."

It wasn't, of course, but Gwen followed her anyway. When they returned to Camelot, Morgana, feeling a fresh rush of guilt at the look on Merlin's face when he saw the cut, dismissed Gwen for the day.

||

The next few weeks were uneventful, except for the nightmares and Arthur nearly dying. She was growing accustomed to chaos. What she was unaccustomed to was Gwen's new timidity and the way Uther looked at her, vaguely coldly, almost as though he suspected what had made his ward run down the castle steps the day the questing beast bit his son.

She kept her counsel and tried not to be afraid to close her eyes.

||

Three weeks after the beast almost killed Arthur she woke up screaming with Gwen's hands on her. "Morgana?" Gwen said, her tone making it obvious that she'd been repeating it for quite some time. "Morgana, wake up!"

She was awake, and yet she felt as though she still dreamed. "It's true," she said, hardly listening to the words falling from her own lips. "Oh God, Gwen, it's true, they're all true."

Gwen actually dropped her. She would remember that later, when she tried to piece the events together. Gwen dropped her and took a step back, and then she reached out and took a step forward, loyalties warring visibly. "Morgana?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to die. Do you think I should?"

She understood Gwen's hesitation, for she'd made a point never to reveal too much of herself, be it around servants or around her not-quite-family. But Gwen was different; Gwen had seen her at her worst.

"Of course not," Gwen said fiercely. Her hand went to her neck then. "That's why you...pricked me."

It was better than attacked, which was probably more accurate. "I was scared."

Gwen shook her head. "You are scared, Morgana."

Morgana forced herself to smile. "You sound like the soothsayer now."

"Do you truly..." Gwen bit her lip. "Do you truly see? I mean, is it just sometimes, or is it always true?"

"When I wake up like this, always."

"You're powerful, then."

"It hardly matters," Morgana said sharply.

"But you are."

If she allowed herself to think about it. If she allowed herself to wonder what else she could do, given time to learn. "I suppose."

Gwen frowned. "It's you who keeps talking of destiny, and all you're allowing yourself is 'I suppose'? Even most sorcerers can't see the future, Morgana. You've power."

"Power I can't use. Power I'm not supposed to have. If the king -"

"Uther won't suspect you," Gwen said fiercely. "No one will. And if they do, we'll deal with them."

Silks and jewels. Power. "We?"

Gwen didn't even blush. "You said one day, perhaps your destiny would be in my hands. It would seem that day has come more quickly than you anticipated."

It was unfair of her, she knew, to demand more of Gwen than coin could pay for. Right then, she didn't care. She let herself fall forward and embrace Gwen tightly, closing her eyes against threatening tears. "Thank you."

"Thanks aren't needed," Gwen said. Her hands came up to stroke Morgana's back, her hair. "But sleep is, Morgana. For you, anyway. No one will expect you up so early, and you look tired."

And that was Gwen all over, caring for Morgana as though she herself didn't wake at this hour ever day. "Gwen..."

"Sleep," Gwen said again, her voice as immobile as steel.

Morgana closed her eyes and already felt herself drifting off. "Please," she whispered, incapable of finishing.

She felt Gwen push her back onto the bed, placing her covers over her gently. "Sleep, my lady," she said again.

Morgana fell back asleep to the rhythm of Gwen's fingers stroking her hair.

||

"I could be a queen," Morgana said two days later, holding her arms out for Gwen to dress her.

"So could I," Gwen said, dryly amused. "Turn around."

Morgana obeyed, and Gwen set jewels in her hair. Their faces were close enough that Morgana could see the thin wrinkles on Gwen's face, not from age but from exhaustion. "You should sleep more," Morgana said.

Gwen's eyebrows quirked wryly. "You might have missed it, my lady, but being your maid is rather difficult work, and not the sort that allows for naps."

"I could hire another maidservant."

She didn't realize it would be interpreted as a threat until Gwen's face fell. "It's your choice, but I'd prefer if you didn't."

"I meant in addition to you. To take the load off your shoulders."

"I don't mind, my lady. You're a generous person. And..."

Gwen was still close enough that touching her shoulder was the work of a fraction of a second. "Serving me isn't all you're meant for, Gwen."

"You keep saying that." The tilt of Gwen's chin looked like the essence of stubbornness. "Why hasn't it occurred to you yet that I want to?"

"You'd serve a sorceress?"

"Not a sorceress. You."

She could be a queen; Gwen could be too. Morgana didn't like to think of her own future, of what could happen if she pursued the power she could feel crackling under her skin. "Whatever I am."

"That's the general idea," Gwen said, not quite sharply enough to be mean. She was smiling up at Morgana, completely trusting. How had Uther's reign raised such a person?

"We must be off," she said finally.

Gwen's face tightened as though she was returning to herself. She bobbed a curtsy and went to open the door.

||

Two days later, Morgana sat in her chambers with her eyes closed, trying to see into the throne room.

Yet another rogue sorcerer had attacked them yesterday – or tried, anyway. He wasn't very good. For all Merlin's power, Merlin wasn't very good, either, but Merlin had laughed at the intruder's abilities and dispatched him.

All of that, Morgana saw in a dream. What Uther thought had happened was a good deal simpler: a statue had fallen on the man, and Merlin had been nowhere in sight.

But the intruder had claimed he could see through walls, and Morgana was determined to develop the ability as well. If she could see into the future, why not into the present? And, a small, near-treacherous part of her added, if Merlin could develop his power, then so could she.

At first nothing happened. She was a little cold, tired, half of her mind still ranting about why Uther couldn't recognize that hooded men and women in cloaks with tarnished jewelry were generally out to do him harm. But as she calmed down, she felt her mind settle in an odd way – almost like it was leaving her body, though of course that was impossible.

(Was it? Morgana cursed her own ignorance, and Uther for causing it. She was like a fumbling child.)

She drifted for awhile, her thoughts quieting until she was hardly thinking in words. She could feel the draft touching her skin now, cold air stirring the hair at the nape of her neck. Simultaneously, however, she could feel the warmth of the torch on the opposite wall; then the cold of stone; and then the musty air of a storeroom.

Excitement jolted her out of it and she fell backwards. Was there a storeroom through the stone wall, then? "Gwen!"

Gwen had been sitting in the back, completely silent. Now she came to stand in front of Morgana. "Yes?"

"Can you please go see what the next room over is?"

"It's a storeroom, my lady. For linens and scraps of things."

Morgana carefully took two deep breaths, letting the information sink in. A storeroom. "I saw it just now," she said finally. She'd meant to sound confident, like a woman with power should, but instead her voice was small and thin.

"Oh," Gwen said in a similar tone. "I...oh."

"Yes." Morgana swallowed hard. "I half wish I didn't."

"But that's exciting, isn't it? Who knows what else you can do!"

"That's the problem." Morgana tightened her hands, unwilling to even feel them shake. "Who knows what harm I could cause?"

"Oh." Gwen bit her lip and took a step forward, kneeling so she was level with Morgana. "You won't."

The words sounded feeble, so easily contradicted. "How do you know?"

"Well, look at – what was his name? Never mind. The man in the cloak."

"We have a lot of those," Morgana couldn't help but say.

"Yes, well, it keeps things interesting. And I rather think Uther relishes emergency. Anyway, look at him. He was obsessed. All he thought of was murder. You're not like that at all."

"Yet."

"Magic doesn't make you mad," Gwen said. "It just makes you more dangerous if you do go mad."

"And if I do?"

"That's rubbish. You won't."

She'd almost killed Uther and it had been glorious, the rush of excitement that accompanied plotting and the satisfaction knowing he'd be gone from the throne. "I feel as though I could."

Gwen's hand on her back startled her. She rubbed Morgana's back in circles, as gently as if she were stroking a baby. "I'll have to have faith enough for the both of us, then."

Morgana let herself lean back. It felt good, and Gwen – Gwen was comforting. And if she closed her eyes again, this time with the intention of not seeing the concern on Gwen's face or the way tendrils of hair escaped and brushed Gwen's skin, no one else need know.

||

"It looks rather like a large slug," Merlin said thoughtfully, staring at the beast wound round the castle's highest tower.

"Slugs can't fly, though," Gwen pointed out.

"Or breathe fire." Morgana winced as the creature opened its mouth and did exactly that, burning Camelot's flag to a cinder.

"It could be a magic slug! Not," Merlin said hastily when Arthur cocked his eyebrows at him, "that I would know anything about magic. Or how to get rid of a magical slug."

"Fortunately," Gaius said from behind them, "I do."

"How?" Arthur said.

Morgana didn't think it was just her imagination that made her see Gaius' smile as being just a little sharper and more amused than usual. "Well, you'll have to do some climbing."

And that was how the Crown Prince of Camelot ended up teetering from the second highest tower of the castle, throwing fistfuls of salt at the slug with the help of five of his best knights, also clinging from towers. The slug had started to twitch, but Arthur had successfully deposited enormous amounts of salt in its mouth, drying it up until it couldn't breathe fire anymore.

Drying up the rest of the slug was slow going, however. Morgana watched closely, stomach jerking at the way Arthur bent and clung to the tower. If he wasn't careful, he'd lean forward and -

For the rest of her life Morgana would try to recall exactly what had happened next. She thought about Arthur falling, and unbidden, her mind reached out – and then he really was falling, hurtling towards the ground as everyone screamed –

And then Merlin yelled a word and reached out his hand and Arthur froze in midair, just like that, and all of the screaming stopped.

"Don't arrest me," Merlin said when Uther opened his mouth. "I mean, you can arrest me in a moment, you're king and all, but if you do it right now then I'll drop him."

"How dare you try to blackmail me," Uther hissed.

"It's not blackmail, it's just the truth." Merlin lowered his hand and Arthur floated back down to earth, gently as a feather. "Can I get rid of the slug before you clap me in irons?"

"Seize him!" Uther roared.

"Father, no!" Arthur shouted.

But the guards were obedient, of course, grabbing Merlin's arms and dragging him off. "Merlin!" Arthur yelled, running after him – but Uther grabbed his arm, stopping him easily.

"Let him go," Arthur snapped. "Let him go immediately, he just saved my life, you can't kill him for that."

"He saved your life with sorcery," Uther said, "and for that he must die."

"No. No."

"Yes," Uther said brittlely, and pushed Arthur away, turning his back and walking after the guards.

"No," Arthur said, his voice almost a whisper.

Morgana wanted to comfort him. She could, she knew – she thought she could. Gwen was sending her glances like she couldn't understand why Morgana didn't.

Except that it had been Morgana who'd pushed Arthur, however accidentally, and right now she felt as though she could very easily fall into hundreds of tiny pieces. So instead she watched the knights throw the last of the salt on the slug, watched the slug fall to the ground with a thunderous noise, and tried to ignore the not-quite-whimpers Arthur was making just a few feet away.

||

"Why didn't you go to him?" Gwen snapped, closing Morgana's door behind her. "You're neither deaf nor cold-hearted, you saw what it did to him. You know what Merlin means to him, too. How could you just stand and listen to that?"

"Because it's my fault."

"You – what?" Gwen stared. "No. That's impossible."

Morgana shook her head. "I thought about him falling," she said, trying to force her voice to stay steady, "and my mind just – just pushed, and then he was falling. I'm entirely responsible."

"It could just be coincidence."

"I'm not incompetent or a half-wit, Gwen. I felt it. I was the one who made him fall, and Merlin's in the dungeon for stopping him from dying."

"But you don't want to kill Arthur," Gwen said. "I mean – you don't, do you?"

Morgana glared.

"Right," Gwen said. "So it was an accident. Uther will free Merlin, I'm sure of it."

She couldn't stop the anger that swelled then, potent and violent. "You're sure of it? Uther the tyrant, who killed your father? He'll execute Merlin gladly. Don't be such a little fool."

She expected Gwen to flinch, or at the very least to move back. Instead she just lifted her chin and took a step forward, reaching out to catch hold of Morgana's wrist. "You're hurting me because of what you did to Arthur. That's hardly fair. More importantly, it won't get Merlin free."

Gwen was right, of course, but more importantly – and more worryingly – she didn't look at all scared. "What if I were angry with you and killed you accidentally?"

"Excuse me?"

"I could – I don't know, snap your neck or suffocate you, without even meaning to."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't do that."

"You think I meant to do that to Arthur? I can't control it. I'm -" Morgana took a deep breath. "I'm not someone you should be around."

"Are you trying to sack me, is that what this is about? It's not going to work."

"If I tell you to leave, you will leave. That or get thrown out by the guards."

"You won't tell me to." Gwen squeezed Morgana's wrist. "Don't be ridiculous, Morgana. You need me as much as I need -"

It was a bad idea, Morgana thought, to press her. She did it anyway. "As much as you need what?"

"The money this job affords me. And the stability," Gwen said finally.

But she was still holding onto Morgana's wrist. "Gwen..."

"Let's not pretend. I think of you as a friend, my lady, even when you're so far above me."

"I'm not -"

"I said let's not pretend," Gwen said flatly.

"Then I think of you as a friend as well," Morgana said finally, reaching out and fitting a hand over Gwen's. "And I do want to send you away, because I'm afraid."

"That's stupid," Gwen said, not unkindly. "Now, sit down. You need to free Merlin."

Morgana took a deep breath and obeyed. "How am I to do that?"

"You saw into the storeroom. Don't you think you could see into the dungeon?"

"And then, what, set him free with magic? I can't do that."

"You have to."

"I don't know how, Gwen."

Gwen shrugged. "You might have noticed the number of logic-defying and dangerous things that happen here. You don't have to know how, you just have to do it."

Morgana half wanted to slap Gwen. She thought about it, fondly and completely unrealistically. She could hurt Gwen, of course she could, in the same way she could cut off her own arm: not at all. "Will you stay here if I try?"

Gwen actually looked genuinely surprised. "I hadn't thought of going elsewhere."

Well, then. Morgana closed her eyes. "If I die, they'll say you murdered me, you know."

"Drat, you've forseen my clever plan." Gwen moved behind her. "Close your eyes, my lady. We haven't much time."

And Gwen was right, of course – damn her, for she nearly always was. Morgana closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to reach out again, feeling for the power she'd tapped into before.

For awhile, nothing happened. She became more aware of her breathing, of Gwen's soft breaths behind her, even of the way blood throbbed in the tips of her fingers and the pulse at her neck, but nothing even remotely magical. Then Gwen said quietly, "Morgana," and reached out to press two fingers at the nape of Morgana's neck.

It was like a spark lighting a pile of tinder. The magic flowed through her, catapulting her out of her own body. She saw the walls, then the storeroom – and then she focused her attention. Merlin. Merlin. She had to find him.

Down, down, through layers of stone and empty rooms, through earth and metal, until she was watching Merlin sleep, curled up in a small cell. His wrists were tucked together in a way that was intimately familiar to her; disconnected from her body as she was, she couldn't feel the scars, but their lack didn't dampen the remembered rage that coursed through her.

Would Merlin take it upon himself to kill Uther? No, of course not. He'd have killed the man from here, were that the case. It was why he was so close to Arthur, Morgana knew, and not she herself. Why he was meant to be.

It was also why she had to be the one to break the rules and get him out.

"Merlin," she thought – or said, maybe, she wasn't sure. Either way, it didn't make him stir.

Damn it. She'd have to wake him up and open the door, and when she reached out, she discovered she didn't even have hands to help her. Of course; it was only her mind that was down here.

The door first, then. She focused on it, narrowing her eyes and willing it to move. If she could just get it to budge a little, Merlin would be thin enough to slip through.

But it was solid iron, and it didn't move. When she pushed her mind a little more, trying to inject even more will into it, she felt a sudden burning pass over her, almost as though the iron itself were lashing out at her.

"Gwen," she whispered. "I can't do it."

That was how she discovered she couldn't hear Gwen, either.

Pushing down fear, she moved forward. Maybe if she couldn't bend the bars, she could simply unlock it. Locks down in the dungeons were simple, after all; the king depended upon the guards and the bars themselves to keep prisoners in. She leaned down and went inside the lock, impossibly small, peering at the iron workings.

From there, she pushed at the tumblers – and when they didn't move, she pushed that much harder, thinking of Merlin lying with his wrists cradled and a bruise on his cheek. Arthur needed Merlin. They all needed Merlin. He wasn't going to die, and the person who was going to ensure that was Morgana herself.

"Come on, you piece of scrap metal, move," she hissed.

And impossibly, miraculously, it did. She watched the tumbles click, and a second later she'd moved herself back outside and was watching the door swing open.

It was quick work, then, to poke Merlin with straw until he woke up. She watched, invisible, as his eyes widened –

And he didn't move. The brat, the utter fool, didn't move.

She didn't even think about it, just hurled herself back into her body. "Gwen!"

"Did you do it?" Gwen said eagerly. "Is he free?"

"I did, but he won't go anywhere. He's just standing there like a complete fool! And the guards will be by again soon."

"Could Arthur move him, do you think?"

Arthur. Of course. "No," Morgana said slowly, "I don't think so."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

It was an order. Morgana blinked up at Gwen, but Gwen didn't act as if she'd noticed anything unusual. Maybe she hadn't, and Gwen had finally crossed the line Morgana had been expecting her to for months. "I can't," Morgana said finally, when Gwen's expression made it apparent that she'd been silent for too long.

"Why not?"

Morgana didn't answer directly, just stood up. "Have my bath ready for when I return," she said, smoothing her hair back.

"What are you going to do?"

There was fear in her voice, and Morgana knew she couldn't do a thing to assuage it. She swallowed hard. "Nothing that will prevent my return," she said, and left the room before Gwen could protest further.

The walk to Uther's chambers was shorter than she remembered. She was gathering her power the whole time, pulling at it until she could feel it buzzing under her skin. It was easier than she'd remembered – easier than it should be, she suspected.

But introspection was for when Merlin wasn't about to be put to death. She extinguished a light just down the hall from Uther's door, and when the guards went chasing after it – honestly, someone ought to train them better – she opened the door and slipped inside.

Uther was sleeping peacefully, the tyrant. The – she didn't hate him. God, she couldn't. But he was a tyrant regardless of her affections towards him.

"Uther," she whispered. "Uther, wake up."

||

Gwen was praying when she opened the door.

"I didn't know you were religious," Morgana said.

"My lady!" She leaped to her feet. "Your bath is ready, I tried to keep the water warm -"

"I could warm it myself, I think." Morgana touched the surface; the water was still hot. "But I don't need to. You're skilled."

"What did you do?"

Morgana shook her head. "I told you, you can't know."

"Did you hurt him?"

"Who, Merlin? Don't be silly, Gwen."

Gwen jutted her chin out. "You know damn well who I mean, and it's not Merlin. Uther. Did you hurt him."

Every syllable was bitten off. Morgana tried not to stare. "No."

"And the magic?"

"Gone, for now. I felt for it leaving Uther's chambers." She shrugged. "There's nothing there."

Gwen's brow furrowed. "Is that how it works, then? Like – like a sort of crop, or something, you nourish it then harvest it?"

"Apparently. How could I know for sure?"

"You dream almost every night."

She dreamed every night. "Truly, you mean."

Gwen nodded.

"I don't know if that's less power, or different, or..." She shook her head, wincing at the pain it caused. "I just want to bathe, Gwen. Please."

There was something so brutally ironic about it, begging her maid to led her take a bath. But Gwen responded immediately to the plea, unlacing Morgana's gown and unpinning her hair.

The actions, Morgana noticed, were out of order. She left Morgana's dress messily unlaced while she combed down her hair, and then drew it entirely off, making short work of each layer of fabric until Morgana was completely naked.

"I wouldn't have gotten cold."

"I know," Gwen said quietly. "The bath, my lady."

It was another order, less strident than the first but just as obvious. This one Morgana obeyed, stepping into the water with a sigh of gratitude. "My muscles ache as though I've worked physically. Do you think it's the same for Merlin?"

"You'll have to ask him." Gwen reached for a bar of soap, lathering her hands and working it into Morgana's hair. "He'd be delighted to answer, I'm sure."

And that was odd: her tone, the sudden roughness of her hands in Morgana's hair. It was pushing, Morgana knew, disrespectful and almost cruel, to demand more of Gwen.

She did it anyway. "Do you think so? He's not half bad, once you know he's a powerful wizard. He'll be a great man someday."

"Great enough for you, I'm sure," Gwen said tartly. She swiped a cloth over Morgana's shoulders roughly.

Morgana took it from her and washed her arms before leaning back and drawing the cloth over her breasts, down her stomach. "He'd never be great enough for me unless Uther gave him a title. I'm sure he'd be delighted to partner with you, though."

Anger swept through Gwen's features. Morgana watched with satisfaction as her shoulders grew tight, her mouth small. "You're so eager to see me a wife, then? Married and useless?" She stood up. "My lady, it's late. With your permission, I'd like to sleep a bit."

Everything she'd done so far today bore the mark of impulsiveness, which was how she justified what she did next: she stood up, letting the bath water stream down her naked form.

Gwen's eyes widened, which was as much of an answer as Morgana needed. "Gwen," she said, making her voice as gentle as she could, "come here."

"My lady..."

"You should stick with calling me one or the other." Morgana forced herself to smile. "And I think we both know which I prefer."

"So this is about you, then?"

Damn it. "Not exactly, no."

"That's what you said. What you prefer."

"I should have said we, then. You can't possibly prefer to call me 'my lady'."

"And if I do?"

"Then I'll ask that you not lie to me."

Morgana watched Gwen exhale slowly, her hands clenching into fists and then relaxing at her side. "Morgana."

Morgana said nothing, just held out her hand.

She very nearly shivered when Gwen finally took it. This was foolish, she knew, if only because she could never ask for this again, could never ask for more, and she wasn't stupid or naïve enough to pretend to herself that she didn't want this and everything else, as much and as often as she could get it.

"Morgana," Gwen said again.

"Shh," Morgana said. "It's okay." She tugged Gwen closer, leaning down and -

She couldn't do it. She froze, her face inches from Gwen's, so close she could feel Gwen's breath on her face, and she couldn't make herself move closer.

"What are you doing?" Gwen whispered.

"I..."

The words wouldn't leave her throat.

She'd remember the next moment more vividly than anything else: Gwen smiled, only a little mockingly, before she leaned in to kiss Morgana.

It wasn't magical or anything like that. Morgana's knees didn't even tremble. She'd rather suspected they would with Gwen, even though they hadn't with Arthur or Sir Gawain, but hardly anything happened.

Except when she finally leaned back she realized she'd forgotten to breathe. Inhaling made her dizzy, and she had to reach out to Gwen to keep from tilting over.

"Your bath," Gwen said.

Morgana blinked at her. "My bath?"

"It will get cold." Gwen pushed her back gently. "We'll speak in the morning."

"Gwen –"

"Why didn't you ask me before?"

Gwen knew the answer. She had to. "I couldn't. I shouldn't have. You're..."

"Not good enough for you."

"Someone I care about too much."

"That's not what you said about Merlin."

Morgana could feel vulgarity creeping into her own syllables when she snapped, "I don't want Merlin, Gwen."

"And when you stop wanting me?"

"What makes you think I will?"

It was a bold statement, and quite possibly false – but Gwen moved back as though she'd been physically shoved. "I..."

Morgana sat back down in the bath, shivering a little in the now-cool water. "I'll see you in the morning."

Gwen didn't answer, just shut the door quietly.

||

Morgana was awakened not by Gwen, but by a pair of huge eyes shining in the light of a hovering orb.

"Merlin! You utter fool, get away from me!"

The eyes blinked. "You used magic on worked metal."

"I – what?" How could he know? "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Magic." Merlin's arms came into view now, waving absurdly. "You used your magic to get me out. You used it on iron."

"I don't know magic."

"Then how'd you push Arthur with it?"

She didn't even think before lashing out, her foot connecting hard with his knee. "Don't you ever make that allegation again."

Merlin yelped. "What do you think, I'm going to go to Uther with it? I know it was an accident. I also know you set me free. And did something to Uther, since the guards let me walk out."

"And if I did? What of it?"

"Then thank you and congratulations on a job terrifyingly well done, but Morgana, you used your magic on worked metal."

"You keep saying that," Morgana said, barely refraining from gritting her teeth, "and yet I've no idea what you're talking about. What's so special about metal?"

Merlin blinked at her. Morgana took advantage of the lull in conversation to study his face. His nose was twitching like a rabbit's; it wasn't terribly attractive. "You don't know?" he said finally.

She crossed her arms and raised her head, doing her best to look down her nose at him. "I might not agree with the king, but I respect his rule. I haven't learned any magic formally."

The brat had the nerve to laugh outright at that. "That's a load of rot," he said, sounding almost fond. "You don't respect his rule at all. But you're ignorant, that much is obvious. Magic hates metal. There's not ten sorcerers in the kingdom who could do that trick."

"I should hope there's not more than one," Morgana said.

"I'd never gotten the impression you were stupid before."

"I will strike you, and the guards won't listen to a single protest you make."

"Do you really think you could do that?"

Rather than answering directly, Morgana fisted her hand and threw a punch.

Merlin's eyes flared yellow and her fist froze in mid-air. "...I see," she said after a moment of harshly quelling panic. After all, of the two of them, she was the one who'd plotted to kill the king.

"Our magic's not the same."

He sounded satisfied. "Calm your ego," she said. "You've never dreamed truly, and I do it nearly as many nights as I sleep soundly."

"Right, well. Either way –"

"Either way, we've both got our secrets, and I'll thank you not to tell anyone." She gave him as pointed a look as she could. "Including Arthur."

"You don't want to learn together? Or borrow my book? It's got fascinating information."

"Information that apparently doesn't apply, since I'm hardly an all-powerful sorceress and I could slip the lock." She shook her head. "Keep the book. I'm not..." Inclined to learn more, she almost said, but that was a blatant lie. "I'll learn on my own."

"If you ever need help or want a, you know, someone to talk to..."

"I'll just follow Arthur's line of sight," she said wryly. Hah, he was blushing.

"Right, well." He finally moved back, the orb of light following him. "I'll see you."

"You will."

She lay down as soon as he made his clumsy exit, but sleep refused to come. She turned over every few minutes, thinking about iron and magic and how, exactly, things would change when Arthur became king, until finally the light began to sneak through the curtains.

The door handle turned, and she closed her eyes to a slit, feigning sleep.

Gwen walked in quickly and silently, kneeling in front of the fire with the ease of practice. She didn't even glance at Morgana as she lit the tinder, poured water into the basin, hands quick and steady in their duties.

When she got to the chamberpot, however, Morgana finally opened her eyes and sat up. "Don't."

Gwen actually startled at that, though it was hardly the first time Morgana had woken so early. "My lady."

"Don't," Morgana said again, keeping her expression neutral. Let Gwen think the term didn't hurt if it suited her.

"You can't be seen emptying your own chamberpot," Gwen said. Her tone was patient, almost like she was speaking to a small child.

"Can't I? Nobility can be as eccentric as they like." Morgana reached out, catching Gwen's wrist easily. "And there are other things I can't be seen doing."

"My lady," Gwen said. Her voice was small, scared.

Morgana was her lady, in ways she wondered if Gwen would ever understand. In ways she hoped Gwen would, someday – Gwen who stood in Morgana's dreams as a woman covered in silks and jewels.

"I can't ask for anything," she said, finally letting the tension through to her voice. "You need to know that. I'm not asking. I'm not...I'm not pushing. Not forcing. You know I'll always have a place for you, no matter how you feel." She lifted Gwen's wrist and kissed it softly. Chivalrously. "But I am hoping."

Gwen was silent for so long that Morgana felt the beginnings of a blush stealing across her neck. Finally she pulled her hand back and said, "Be that as it may, you still can't be seen emptying your own chamberpot."

Morgana knew a draw when she was presented with one. She let go of Gwen's hand. "Thank you."

Gwen's smile was small but genuine. "You're welcome."

||

After that, things were...slow.

Morgana truly hadn't hurt Uther. She'd made him order the guards to free Merlin and then to forget it hadn't been his own idea, and he'd looked afraid of her when she held her hands out, but Merlin was free and Uther didn't remember a thing. It was a trade-off she was willing to make.

And if a small voice in the back of her head asked how many more trade-offs she'd make in her life, she simply refused to answer.

But Gwen, though she'd obviously gotten the message, wasn't reacting in the slightest. She still stayed with Morgana while Morgana practiced seeing. She listened when Morgana confessed, quietly and feeling like a child, that she wasn't truly ready to do the sort of magic Merlin did.

And when Morgana burned her own hands by accidentally reaching into her room's fire, Gwen wrapped them gently and made sure they'd healed before Morgana tried practicing again.

"I'm just so tired of it," Morgana said one night as Gwen rewound the bandages around the salve Gaius had given them.

"You should be more careful, then."

"It's not about care, Gwen."

"Careful, controlled, practiced. It doesn't matter. You're waiting until you're healed."

Morgana almost laughed. "Yes, my lady."

And there it was again: Gwen flinched, just a tiny bit. Enough for Morgana to notice only because she was looking so closely.

She was tired of waiting on more than the magic. "Gwen, what else am I supposed to do today?"

"Nothing that I know of. Uther requested that you dine with him, but he does that nearly every night, so..."

"Tell him I won't be able to, please."

Gwen's glance at her was puzzled, but she tucked the last bit of bandage into place and stood. "I'll be back in a moment."

A moment was all Morgana needed. She didn't pick out a dress – Gwen would see it as an insult, and rightly so – but she did pick out hair pins, jewelry, and a cloak she'd been saving for Gwen's midwinter present. She could commission something else. When everything was laid out on the bed, she pulled her chair out and sat down on the bed, facing both the back of the chair and the door, waiting for Gwen to reenter.

When Gwen did, she stopped dead in her tracks. "What –"

"Close the door, please."

Gwen obeyed, thankfully. "Morgana. What is this?"

"You said I can't be seen emptying my chamberpot. Fine. But I want..." She'd thought about this, damn it, she'd even rehearsed what she was going to say, and now the words were failing her.

"You don't have to wait on me." Gwen's voice took on a bitter tinge. "I don't want to be decorated in your things."

"If you let me put them on you, they're yours."

"Costly gifts. Where am I to wear a golden chain, then?"

"At my side."

It was nearly an attack, in the same way that Uther sending armed "diplomats" to neighboring countries was nearly an attack. Gwen, though, didn't blush and didn't capitulate. "No one would allow it."

"We'll find a way, someday."

"And in the meantime?"

"My door is closed."

Gwen watched her for a long moment, until even Morgana, who was used to the regard of kings and villagers alike, felt uncomfortable. "Alright, then," Gwen said, and sat down in the chair.

Morgana knew it would startle her, but she picked up the ornate sandles anyway, kneeling in front of Gwen.

"Morgana -"

"Shh," she said, shoving aside her trepidation and slipping Gwen's shoes off. "Let me do this." She looked up. "Please."

Gwen inhaled sharply. "Alright, then."

She couldn't keep from trailing her hands down Gwen's ankles before she slipped the sandles on, smiling up at Gwen when she wiggled her toes. "Your skin is soft."

"Gaius has a cream – oh!"

Morgana finished fastening the anklet and brushed her fingers up Gwen's legs, forcing herself not to pull at Gwen's skirt fabric the way she wanted to. "May I brush your hair?"

"You can't possibly be asking."

That made Morgana pull away. "I'll always be asking with this."

Gwen was as calm as ever when she said, "Do you think I'll ever say no?"

The constraints of Morgana's own station were something she complained about at every given opportunity; somehow, she hadn't thought of Gwen's own limits. "If you want to, always. I'm not some drunken nobleman out to pinch you at a banquet."

"No," Gwen said. She touched Morgana's cheek.

And Morgana, ever mindful, held still and let her.

"Comb my hair," Gwen said finally. Her voice was quiet, level as always, but it was incontrovertibly an order.

Morgana reached for the comb and pulled Gwen's hair down, running her fingers through Gwen's hair until Gwen began to shift restlessly. Only then did she slowly start combing, careful not to tug too hard or miss any spots.

"This feels good," Gwen said after awhile, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Morgana resisted the urge to draw a finger down Gwen's neck, or touch her jaw, or...really, time spent in the stables with knights hadn't benefited her restraint at all.

"I'm glad," Morgana said. She began pinning Gwen's hair back again, only this time with carefully crafted, jewel-encrusted pins. They glimmered against Gwen's hair, making it appear even richer and more beautiful than it already was.

"Is this about dressing me up like a doll?"

Morgana kept her hands steady largely through sheer force of will. "Of course not."

"Then tell me."

Morgana pressed the small gold arch into Gwen's hair and moved to stand in front of her, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. When Gwen acquiesced, she fastened the new cloak around Gwen's neck with the brooch she'd had made for it. The cloak was a deeper red than Gwen's old one; the brooch, however, was milky white, with rubies worked into the gold at the edges.

"You look beautiful," she said quietly, taking a step back.

But it didn't distract Gwen. "Tell me, Morgana."

"I wanted to show you what you'll be," Morgana said, fighting the heaviness in the pit of her stomach.

"What I'll – no."

"I don't know if it was a true dream. But I meant what I said before. This...you'll wear these at my side. I swear it."

"Morgana," Gwen said, and her voice sounded like she was about to break, which was how Morgana justified stepping forward and cupping Gwen's face in her hands.

"Shh," she said, as soothingly as she could. "It'll be alright, I promise."

"You can't possibly know that."

She'd seen so many things that suggested the exact opposite. "Shh," she said again, instead of answering straight.

And Gwen kissed her.

She hadn't been expecting it. Beyond that, if she had thought about it (and she hadn't, not really, or not often at least; it was wanting too much of Gwen, wanting something she could never, never ask for), she'd thought she would be in control, guiding a frightened Gwen.

In this, as in many things, she'd been a fool.

Gwen wasn't assured through experience, Morgana thought – or she'd damn well better not be, anyway. Morgana's fingers tightened on Gwen's arm at the thought. But she was confident, holding Morgana and kissing her first lightly, then more deeply, but always inexporably.

When they finally broke apart, it was Morgana who was gasping. "I..."

"You wouldn't ask for that."

"I couldn't. God, Gwen, how many times have I caught some fumbling egomaniacal pig pawing at you? I won't be like that."

"You're such a fool," Gwen said, but with enough affection that Morgana just leaned forward and kissed her again.

Neither of them was the sort to delay the inevitable, so when the kisses became more heated, Morgana pushed Gwen back onto the bed easily. "You'll just be taking all this off, then?" Gwen said lightly.

She could, she realized. Easily. "Perhaps, in awhile," she said, and kissed Gwen again, running a near-tentative hand down the front of Gwen's dress.

But Gwen just laughed and wiggled. "That's hardly forward enough," she said, fitting a hand under Morgana's dress and pressing her fingers into Morgana's thigh.

A single touch shouldn't have the power to send bolts of sensation through her, but it clearly did. "God," she said breathily. "I...do that again."

So Gwen did, only this time, she moved forward to kiss Morgana and reached back with her other hand to unlace Morgana's dress.

"You're ridiculous," Morgana said as Gwen pulled her bodice down. God, she was naked from the waist up now – and of course she'd been in such a state before with Gwen, but now Gwen, after weeks of uncertain glances and near-fear, looked hungry. "Where did you learn this?"

"Here and there," Gwen said, and kissed Morgana's shoulder. "Lie back."

Morgana obeyed. Gwen pulled her dress completely off, as smoothly as she ever had in days prior, before standing up and shedding her cloak.

And her dress.

The fact that Morgana knew she was staring like a fool didn't make it any easier to stop. Gwen's skin was smooth, her limbs perfectly proportioned, and if Morgana was ever planning on letting anyone else see her like this, she'd have thought a painter should commit her form to canvas. As it was, she simply held out a hand. "Please."

Gwen came easily, letting Morgana pull her on top so that Morgana could kiss her and run her hands up and down her back, and then down to her bottom. Gwen was wiggling against her, almost impatiently – and of course she was as warm and wet as Morgana herself. Morgana groaned. "Gwen..."

"We'll get there eventually," Gwen said, trailing kisses down Morgana's neck. "Promise me I don't have to do everything now."

"I – what?"

Gwen kissed the spot between Morgana's ribs. "Promise me that we'll do this again."

"Of course we will! You can't possibly think I'd just – damn it, Gwen!"

She didn't even realize she'd reached out until Gwen laughed a little and closed her hands around Morgana's wrists, pressing them into the mattress. "It's okay. I just wanted to be sure."

Morgana was going to protest more, but then Gwen leaned back a little and moved a hand between Morgana's thighs, and suddenly she couldn't say anything at all.

Gwen wasn't perfect, of course. A few times, Morgana had to reach down and guide her fingers, show her when to press harder and how to rub so that Morgana was writhing against the sheets and gasping with her head thrown back. But in this, as in everything else, Gwen was a fast learner; and when Morgana finally reached the peak, the world spinning away beneath her, Gwen was there to kiss her hard and press her hips down, anchoring her.

That was the best part. Nearly as entertaining was returning the favor, letting Gwen make her demands, feeling Gwen get wetter and wetter under her fingers until her voice broke and her back arched.

"Beautiful," Morgana said, stretching out next to Gwen.

Gwen didn't say a word, just pulled Morgana close and kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her lips.

||

They spent an hour in bed, but taking more than that would have been indiscreet. It was Morgana who pulled the sheets back and helped Gwen get dressed; it was odd, but not as odd as the care with which Gwen refastened Morgana's dress and pinned her hair up.

"Remember," Morgana said when Gwen went to open the door, feeling suddenly desperate, "it's our destiny, Gwen. Remember."

Gwen gave her a bemused look. "Of course."

She didn't precisely need Gwen's hand to guide her out the door, but it helped more than she wanted to admit, even to herself.

||

"Alright, really, that's just rude," Arthur said, watching Gwen and Morgana brush hands and exchange a disgustingly intimate look. "We're at dinner, for heaven's sake. My father is at the head of the table."

"Is it?" Merlin said blandly, topping off Arthur's glass yet again.

"A fellow could get sick just watching."

"You could not watch."

"Don't be an idiot, Merlin," Arthur said, leaning back in his chair so he didn't have to watch the disgusting display.

Except then Morgana laughed, loud and genuinely happy, and he found himself sneaking a glance again. Damn the woman. "Can't you enchant them to be less gross?"

"Arthur!" Merlin hissed, glancing at Uther.

"Oh, come off it, everyone knows." Arthur waved a hand. "It's okay. If you ever get to be too much trouble I'll just lock you in a tree."

"You're raving," Merlin said. "Completely off your kit."

"I say," Arthur said, much more loudly than he meant to, "Morgana just fondled Gwen's breast!"

The table grew very silent, and everyone, including Lady Jane with the missing front tooth, stared at him.

Oh God.

"Merlin," Arthur said, as dignified as he could manage, "I require your assistance. It is time I retired to my quarters."

"Quite," Uther said dryly.

Merlin just sighed and helped Arthur stand. "Merlin," Arthur whispered against Merlin's ear as they left the dining hall, "Merlin. My father's a bit of a prat."

"And you take after him. Walk," Merlin said, shoving him.

He could have sworn he heard Morgana laughing again. Damned women. He stumbled forward, Merlin's hands the only thing that kept him from becoming very intimate with the stone wall to his right.

||

"I'm a little worried," Gwen said a few days later as they walked down the road leading out of the village, "if Arthur can detect us even when he's stinking drunk."

"Oh, everyone knows, of course," Morgana said without thinking.

What she'd said didn't even really register until Gwen stopped dead in her tracks. "What?"

It was a familiar reiteration of the same old problem, Gwen not understanding social mores Morgana had been born with. "They know. They can't possibly not know."

"But – the door, and you – you said we had to be discreet."

"We do," Morgana said. "It's...it's different with nobles, Gwen. They don't care if they know, they care if they can see us at it."

"That makes no sense. It's barely even a distinction."

Morgana agreed, of course, but even out here, with Gwen's hand in hers and a flower Gwen had picked in her hair, she was the king's ward. "Whether it does or not, that's the way of things."

"So we'll stand by each other, and the entire court will know – what they know, and everyone will ignore it because we've never kissed in front of them?"

"More or less."

"That's completely stupid."

"It's court."

Gwen sighed. "Sometimes I think you're as foreign as Uther's petitioners."

The feeling was mutual, but somehow, Morgana didn't think Gwen would agree. Gwen called her own life simple, when to Morgana it was made up of nuances she barely understood. "And yet, here we stand."

That, at least, got Gwen to smile. "And yet."

"Come on, then." Morgana began walking, confident that Gwen would follow. "That meadow really is quite a comfortable place."

"You're a wretch," Gwen said, but she was laughing and hurrying to catch up.

||

"Gaius."

"Lady Morgana."

"Gaius."

"Lady Morgana."

"Gaius."

"...Lady Morgana?"

"Gaius," Morgana said desperately. "Gaius – I. Ah." Oh god, she was flushing. How could she be such a fool?

But Gaius, noble man that he was, didn't even smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Gwen wanted me to ask - " Oh, God, she couldn't get it out. "I mean, not Gwen. I. I wanted to ask if you had anything...that is to say, if you..."

"I think I am going to go see if Uther has need of my services," Gaius said. "And while I'm out, if some of my supplies should happen to be missing, I will take careful note of what and be sure to order more." He smiled, almost non-mockingly, and swept out.

God, Morgana was going to die right on the spot.

When she was absolutely sure Gaius had gone, she darted forward and rifled through his supplies until she'd found was she was looking for: three long, thick wax candles. They looked ordinary, but she knew from Gwen's description that they were imbued with yarrow and sarsaparilla.

She tucked them in the satchel she'd brought expressly for this purpose and left hurriedly, careful to walk with her head up. Not that anyone would really question the king's ward, but on the off chance that they chose to this time, she could barely think about what asinine excuse she'd manage to stammer out.

Gwen was waiting for her when she got back. She didn't stand when Morgana entered the room; she had caught on to how much it disturbed Morgana quickly, and though she still tended the fire, helped Morgana dress, and otherwise acted as a perfect lady's maid, she had become infinitely less formal.

Morgana was relieved. It made her feel less guilty when she caught Gwen's wrists and pulled her in for stolen kisses, for the nights she had Gwen stay in her bed.

"Did you get them?"

"Of course," Morgana said, putting down the satchel and pulling out the candles. "Though I'm still not sure it will be effective."

"Of course it will." Gwen pulled an ordinary candle out of its holder, lighting each of the herb-infused candles. "We should let them burn down a bit before you try. But they will help, Morgana. You need to be able to see beyond the castle walls."

"You're disturbingly quick to put me to task," Morgana said, but she softened the complaint with a smile.

"Someone has to." Gwen held out her hands.

Morgana went easily, letting Gwen pull her down and put her hands on Morgana's shoulders. "Lean forward and inhale the fumes. You should feel your magic loosen up."

"Why are you my maidservant? You ought to be a teacher." Morgana closed her eyes and leaned forward, inhaling slowly. The scent wasn't terribly unpleasant, but it made her dizzy. "Gwen..."

Gwen's hands moved down immediately, steadying her. "I'm here."

Of course she was. "Thank you," she said – or tried to say; the candles were already helping, and she could feel her magic rising, preparing to carry her out of her own body.

The last thing she felt was Gwen stroking her shoulders steadily. True to her word, she was still holding Morgana when Morgana finally returned hours later, dizzy from soaring over Camelot's countryside.

||

It wasn't always easy. Morgana was combative and they fought about minor things – Gwen's insistence on staying in the servant's quarters most nights, Morgana's determination that Gwen should learn better swordsmanship – and sometimes Morgana wanted to lock herself in her room and never let Gwen back in.

She never did, of course. The altercations weren't half that serious – or at least, they usually weren't. Today was proving itself to be different.

"You dolt," Morgana snapped, slamming Gwen back against the castle wall. "You utter idiot, you little trollop. How dare you?"

"You could have died!"

"Uther threw you in jail once, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again!" Morgana caught Gwen's wrists and squeezed her hands tight. "God, I ought to have you locked away myself! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"Uther wouldn't toss me in prison for throwing a sword -"

"Unless it had hit him, or -"

"Anyone except the sorcerer I did hit," Gwen snapped.

"Blind luck."

"Practice, Morgana, practice you insisted on, so I don't know why you're throwing a fit about it now."

"Because you could have died!" Morgana yelled.

It was the wrong thing to say. For all her faults – and she had as many as Morgana herself did – Gwen was slow to lose her temper, and even when angered, she almost never turned to violence.

Right now, however, it seemed that the rules had changed. Gwen knocked Morgana back and twisted out of her hold, grabbing Morgana by the shoulders and whirling them around. Morgana felt her skull crack against the stone as Gwen said, "And so could you have. Don't you dare try to tell me I can't risk my life in saving yours."

And she couldn't, Morgana realized. She was breathing heavily, mind spinning, and she couldn't say anything at all.

"Morgana! Say something!"

Morgana had never been good at being cornered, even when she was a child and it was only Arthur who was being a prat. Now she lifted her chin and smirked at Gwen. "No."

Gwen wasn't a gentle person, but she wasn't violent either. Most of the time when she was angry she simply worked through it. Morgana wasn't expecting her to lash out at all, much less slap Morgana.

But she did Morgana's left cheek stung violently as proof.

"I could have you killed for that," Morgana said.

"Yeah?" Gwen raised her eyebrows. "We'll see." She leaned in and -

God. She kissed Morgana, kissed her hard, pushing her back against the stone until Morgana knew she'd have bruises and biting Morgana's lips like she intended to leave marks.

"Don't ever tell me I can't protect you," Gwen said, fingernails digging into Morgana's skin. "When you stand before Uther not ten minutes after scrying – don't you dare."

Morgana couldn't answer, but she doubted Gwen really wanted her to. Instead she leaned into Gwen, spreading her legs when Gwen pushed her skirt up and not hiding a bit of her reaction from Gwen when Gwen started touching her roughly.

When Gwen had brought Morgana to her peak, she let Morgana touch her, biting Morgana's neck and holding onto her fiercely as Morgana slipped her fingers inside Gwen. She came after just a few moments, muffling a moan in her own hand.

Morgana had to help Gwen back to her room. They lay down in Morgana's bed together, and somehow, every bruise Morgana knew would be blooming on her skin in a few hours felt worthwhile.

||

Morgana had managed to convince Gwen to stay with her for once, but she woke up alone in bed, with Gwen standing and poking her shoulder. Damn the girl, she could never stay her duties even at Morgana's request.

"Morgana, wake up. There's a sea serpent."

"I – what?" Morgana blinked at Gwen in the pre-dawn. "There's a what?"

"A sea serpent," Gwen said again. "Only it's got legs. And is coming towards the village."

And Arthur, Merlin, and half of Camelot's knights were to the south. "Oh."

"We should get going," Gwen said, going to the wardrobe and pulling out Morgana's chain mail.

Morgana stood, wondering how badly Uther would try to punish them for fighting the monster – and how much she'd care after the thrill of fighting the monster. "Yes," she said, catching Gwen's wrist and pulling her in for a quick kiss, "let's."

||

Their punishment was cleaning up the sludge at the bottom of the tower the slug had liked so much. In the weeks since that attack it had hardened rather oddly. Apparently Uther had been waiting to delegate the task so he could give the villagers something to laugh at.

"The man's got a warped sense of humor," Morgana said, swinging her ice pick at the grimy green lump again.

"He's king," Gwen said grimly.

Jewels and silks, Morgana thought, looking up at the Pendragon pennant. She'd dreamed of Arthur last night, older and somber, sitting at the head of an enormous round table. "For now," she said, and brushed a hand over Gwen's.