A/N: I always loved the chemistry between Morgana and Arthur at the beginning of the first season. I can't help but wonder what could have happened between them before Merlin ever came to Camelot. This is my first Merlin fanfic so please review!
The Sun and the Moon
Those children are bound to fall in love with each other!
- King Hubert, Sleeping Beauty
It's half past twelve and Arthur should really be in bed, but the long dark corridors are calling to him like a siren's song. Being a boy of twelve, Arthur already fancies himself an adult. After countless lessons he's ready to sit on the throne and rule his people with wisdom and kindness. Also, he's going to make magic extinct by burning all the witches and warlocks.
The boy presses himself up against a cold wall, which feels nice against his sweaty palms. They glide along the wall, running his fingers in the grooves between the stones. Sidling along the wall, he stops suddenly when he hears the sound of others. Beneath the a torch, Arthur can feel the heat of the flame on the back of his neck and feels beads of sweat form. Arthur's heart beats hard in his chest, blocking his ears with it's pounding, but the clanging of armour is clear as a bell.
"…like a doll. Pretty as her mother, but she's a fighter like her dad."
"Probably why she's not yet betrothed. The only place spirit is good for in a woman is between her legs."
Arthur grits his teeth and twists his mouth shut, fighting back the anger that's boiling in his stomach. He doesn't quite understand what it means, but he knows it's not good. Both men are cackling quietly, two common men. As the sounds of their laughter and footsteps fade down the hallway, the young prince relaxes, dropping his arms and exhaling, feeling his tension dissipate with it.
Arthur continues to move. It's not the first time he's snuck around at night, but it is the first time he's doing anything interesting. He wants to see her. She just arrived that morning, the pride and joy of the late Sir Gorlois. Arthur had wanted to meet her right away, even if she was a girl, at least they were around the same age. Maybe they could play together…
Upon sight of her door Arthur smiles to himself victoriously. In spite of Uther's best efforts, he's been outwitted by his son. As Gaius had made his rounds about the castle Arthur had followed him, recognizing every door but the last.
A quick look tells him there's no one around, and he slowly pushes the door open, cringing as the hinges squeak in protest. Once there is a large enough gap Arthur slides through and closes the door behind him.
For a moment he just stands there, his heart was picking up again, feeling his pulse in his fingertips, and his mouth goes dry. His gaze shifts across the room, immediately drawn to the bed where she lay. The lady is asleep in her bed, her head visible as its propped up on several pillows, and he can make out raven black curls surrounding a pale face. The room is lit by the silver glow of the full moon that shines through her open window, and kisses her face, making it appear to be white as the snow.
It's as though there's a cord around Arthur's heart, and it tugs him forward, pulling him, and without a second thought the young Pendragon follows it towards the bed. He feels like a prince from that fairy tale with the sleeping girl and the dragon - although there is no dragon. Just a king, but he's he's had them all killed, so it's sort of the same thing.
As he draws nearer her head twitches, and a small sound escapes from her throat - a soft moan. Arthur freezes in her steps - perhaps she is rising, disturbed by his presence? He debates quickly on whether or not he should drop to the floor and hide, but before he can make up his mind she does it again, the sound becoming louder, and her arm jerks to the side, thumping against her pillow.
"No…" she cries out softly.
A nightmare, Arthur realizes, and he strides towards her bed quickly. As he reaches her bedside he can see her face troubled, brows knit together. He reaches out towards her, to shake her, and gently bring her back into reality. Before he can touch her, the lady's eyes fly open, and she inhales sharply as she stares up at the ceiling for a moment of uncertainty.
"Father?" she calls out as she props herself up in bed, her voice is tearful and frightened. Her eyes flick about the room, and painful realization dawns on her as her eyes soften and lips part. A shaky breath leaves her chapped, parted lips. It's the first time Arthur ever watched someone's heart break, and his broke with it.
"Are, are you alright?" He asks tentatively. Arthur's voice sounds strange in his own ears, his tongue feels strange as he tries to talk.
Her eyes turn onto him, and almost immediately Arthur regrets speaking as fury lights in her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" She demands, her voice is high and cracks softly, and Arthur is at a loss for words. The confidence he normally feels is slipping between his fingers like water. All he can think about is the little wrinkle in her nose as she frowns, and the two small peaks that poke out at the chest from beneath her night gown.
"G-Gaius." Arthur blurts out quickly, "Gaius asked me to check on you tonight. Because - because he wanted to make sure that you would be okay on your first night here." the words are pouring out of his mouth as fast as he can think. He tries to sound convincing, like when he wants another pie from the ladies in the kitchen.
"You're lying. They wouldn't send a whelp like you to check on me. I'm a lady." she informs him, and lifts her chin as she speaks, as if to emphasis her status.
"I'm no whelp!" Arthur cries indignantly as his awe turns to annoyance, "I'm Arthur Pendragon, heir to the throne and future king of Camelot." Normally, when Arthur's title is known there is instant gratification from others. They praise his nobility, the glory he will bring his family, and the greatness of his father. Arthur stands tall and puffs out his skinny chest, waiting.
She rolls her eyes at him, "And I'm the lady Morgana. Future queen to some kingdom out there, I'm sure." She waves her hand expansively. Then her eyes level back onto him, "So what are you really doing here?"
There is no more room for lies, Arthur realizes. No matter how convincing, she will see through him, despite being his junior.
"I wanted to see you." Arthur admits, and is glad for the darkness of night covering the flush that warms his cheeks and the back of his neck. "Father has been speaking of you for weeks now, and when you didn't come to supper I was dying. He says you know how to use a sword." Arthur knows that flattery is the best way to get what you want when dealing with arrogance.
The Lady Morgana's eyes soften slightly, "Perhaps I can forgive you just this once." She says graciously, and scoots over on her bed, then pats the empty space.
Arthur bites back his annoyance as the tides change in his favour, and the way that her lips curve upwards into a smile makes him feel a little strange. Almost sick, in a good sort of way. He takes a seat on the edge of her mattress, and his rogue heart starts to hammer away.
"Can you really fight with a sword?" he asks and licks his lips in anticipation. Sometimes a young knight named Leon would practice with him but he went easy on Arthur, in spite of his protests. Mostly, Arthur was taught by the master at arms, Sir Rowan, and he was never fun.
"My father taught me," she boasts and she displays a row of perfect, pretty teeth. "Before he would leave on quests he would also let me help with his armor. He said I was lucky." She smiles at the memories, but her eyes become moist momentarily, before she blinks rapidly and they disappear again under a placid wall she's probably spent a lifetime building.
Pity and jealousy twist inside of Arthur. His own father didn't have time to spend with Arthur, instead pushing the tasks onto retired knights, Arthur's maid and nurse, Enid, and all the others he had to spare.
"I'm sorry about your father." Arthur mumbles as he looks down, ashamed of his feelings. Though the determination to handle them with as much grace as Morgana is strong, and very slowly he reaches out and places his hand on her upper arm gently, trying to be as charming and kind as the knights and princes in the stories. "he was a good man."
Morgana acts as though she doesn't even hear him. "I could probably whip you." she says, and when Arthur doesn't reply she elaborates, "at sword fighting. I could beat you with one hand."
Suddenly Arthur is dumbfounded, though he knows what she's doing. "You're a girl." he informs her. "You can't beat a man." He speaks slowly, waiting for a flicker of understanding to alight in her pale green eyes.
"You're not a man." she says, her nose got that little wrinkle again. She's really pretty when she's mad. "You're just a boy whose skinnier than me, and probably shorter, still."
Everything stopped. That was taking things too far. Arthur moves his mouth but no words come out. No one ever speaks to him like that, and he's caught in a train wreck of amusement, irritation, fury, and overall embarrassment. He can feel the blood pulsing in his body to every appendage and his face growing hot.
"Get up." he cries as he leaps from her bed. A man takes charge of situations he dislikes, and turns them in his favour.
"What are you doing?" Morgana asks, but she's pulling back her covers and her bare feet touch the cold stone floor.
Without waiting, Arthur strides up to her, cursing his eyes for scanning over her appreciatively. He can see uncertainty flickering in her eyes as they scan over him, but her jaw is clenched with resolve, and she does not back away. Arthur stands directly in front of her, praying to God that it doesn't happen in his trousers at this moment. The fabric of her night gown brushes against his resting hand, and even though they're not directly touching, he feels her presence, and can only imagine what it's like for their skin to connect.
Arthur raises his hand and presses it flat against his head, then waves it over Morgana's head. When there is no contact, he releases his breath and his good posture crumbles as relief settle on him like a comfortable blanket.
"You're shorter than me." Arthur tells her with a grin, "the only sharp object you could beat me at is needle point." Arthur mimics waving a needle and thread and watches her face darken with joy.
"I can too beat you, Arthur Pendragon. Just you wait until tomorrow" she informs him, voice cracking with passion, "I can beat you at the tip of a needle, and I can beat you at the tip of a sword." Morgana spins around, her curls flying around her as she stomps back to her bed and throws herself upon it, causing it to creak.
In spite of her words, she is fighting a smile, and Arthur can see why his father speaks so highly of the young Lady Morgana. Her cold words turned to music with her sweet mouth, and pale skin, as pale as the moonlight.
"It's alright, sweet one," Arthur mocks as he strolls up to her bedside. Once more he takes up his seat at the edge of the bed, and patronizes her by placing his hand on top of her head, "You're already pretty. Now all you've got to do is sit beside a king and smile and wave extra pretty for the commoners."
Morgana gasps with indignation and delivers a stinging blow to Arthur's forearm.
"Pig." she sneers, and despite her frown her eyes are almost twinkling.
"Are you going to stay here permanently?" Arthur asks, trying to sound annoyed, bored, and generally disgruntled with her mere presence, rather than thrilled, nervous, and ecstatic.
"Until I marry, which won't be too long." She sniffs, and tosses her hair, the ringlets shine in the light, and Arthur has the strongest urge to take a lock of her perfect hair and smell it. "A year, maybe two. All of the princes and noblemen in the land will be fighting for my hand."
Arthur swallows, thinking maybe he'll be able to win her over before all those other blokes discover her.