Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with the BBC and I do not own Merlin or any of its characters. I am using them for entertainment purposes under the fair use and/or transformative works clause.
This fic is set just after The Nightmare Begins, just so we're all clear! Enjoy.
"Have you forgotten how to knock, Merlin?" Morgana asks from her position sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed, as the servant enters the room with a small leap, unaware that he is being watched. She smooths the crumpled fabric of her emerald dress hastily so it shines flatly, an instinctive motion she often performs when in Merlin's presence.
Merlin starts at her voice, the way he does every time she catches him staring at her during dinner, and turns, apologising instinctively. "I'm sorry, my lady, I- wait."
Morgana watches with amusement as uncertainty followed by confusion cross Merlin's face. "This is...my room?" Merlin says slowly, as though unsure whether he is or is not in the wrong here.
His tousled hair and mud streaked face are adorable, thinks Morgana. His chiselled cheekbones and intense blue eyes less...adorable, and more...hot. Intense. How perceptive, his intense blue eyes are intense, Morgana thinks sarcastically at herself. Not just intense, but almost magical; Morgana is aware of the danger of the word, but somehow it seems to fit the young man before her. In fact, Morgana has certain untested suspicions about Merlin's abilities, which really only serve to make him all the more alluring and mysterious. But, dammit, now she's been staring for too long.
Morgana clears her throat and gives an unaffected laugh. "I know. I was joking."
Merlin tries for a laugh also, and Morgana wonders briefly if his heart is pounding as fast as hers; she decides this would be wishful thinking. She can't help but remember the last time they were alone together, when he'd come to check on her in her chambers. At night. At night. Morgana had been so sure something had been going to happen; had wished he'd make some move, had thought he was going to, but he hadn't, and she'd opened the door for him with a heavy heart, full of the knowledge that his affections lay elsewhere. She sighs slightly and looks up at him.
"Right. And you are here, why?" Merlin asks her, frowning although still with a smile. Morgana takes a strand of her long ebony hair in her fingertips and twists it gently. Is it her imagination, or do his eyes widen at her movement?
Morgana shakes the fuzz of dangerous attraction from her mind and focuses on the matter at hand. "Um, Gwen," she blurts, "I haven't seen Gwen since yesterday. It's not like her not to turn up for work, I wondered if you'd seen her?"
Merlin's frown loses it's smile. "She didn't come to work? That's not like her at all. When was the last time you saw her?"
The bedroom really is quite small, no doubt that's why Morgana's feeling so flushed. Mind you, lately rooms have an unholy habit of shrinking every time Merlin walks into them, almost forcing the two of them closer and ever closer.
Morgana says hastily, "She left after dark last night. It's past noon now, I'm worried about her." As soon as she says it she realises how very worried she actually is about her maid; Gwen lives alone; dark nights and defenceless young women make for a dangerous combination hovering perpetually on the edge of violence. Morgana bites her lip.
"Did you check her house?" Merlin questions her.
"Yes, of course. She's not there."
Merlin nods and pushes the door to his bedroom open wider. "We should check the smithy. Maybe she fell and hurt herself or something."
"Yes. Will you come with me?" Morgana responds, standing and moving out of the bedroom and down the few steps into the physician's chamber.
Following Merlin's sensible plan, the two trot out into the sun strewn courtyard. Morgana can't help but notice that although Merlin's stride is longer than hers, often allowing him to get ahead of her, he always stops sweetly and waits for her to catch up. Morgana considers clasping his hand in hers in order to slow his pace, forcing herself to remember just in time that Merlin is Gwen's beau and Morgana could never betray the girl's friendship in that way.
"You know, this still doesn't explain why you were in my bedroom, not Gaius' chambers," Merlin points out with a cheeky grin that quickly slips back into concern as they reach the heavy wood door of the smithy, standing slightly ajar. Darkness spills out into the sunny courtyard.
"Oh, uh-" Truth be told, Morgana hadn't intended to be waiting in his room. She had the (rather frustrating) impression that Merlin and Gwen were an 'item' and so when Gwen didn't turn up it had seemed common sense to ask him if he'd seen her.
She'd fully intended to wait patiently in the physician's room, but something about the door at the top of the few steps had tempted her. Almost as though there was something magical inside, calling to her. And quite apart from that, Morgana had felt a sudden urge to see the place where Merlin spent his night-time hours. She'd had to suppress a brief, confusing surge of jealousy as she'd sat at the end of the slim, rough bedstead, wondering if Gwen had ever spent the night in it.
Gwen.
Merlin is already inside the smithy, treading carefully in the dusty and dim interior. "Gwen?" he calls out, running a hand over the worktop, searching for a candle. "Hello?"
"Gwen, are you hurt?" Morgana adds her voice to his, but there is no reply.
A swiftly moving shadow near the end of the room makes them both startle. "Hello?" calls Merlin again, louder this time.
"H-hello?" A tentative voice of indeterminate gender reaches out of the shadow. It is obviously not Gwen's. Merlin exchanges a surprised look with Morgana which gives her childish butterflies.
"Who's there?" Morgana asks authoritatively.
"Firren. I'm Firren," this assertion seems to give the figure confidence. A young man, haggard and skinny, steps out of the darkness, blinking in the shard of light cast by the open smithy door. His hair is long and scraggly, an odd shade somewhere between brown and blond. His nails are long and dirty, his brown shirt tattered and feet shoeless. "Are - are you Gwen's friends?" the boy asks them.
"Yes, where is she?" Morgana replies swiftly, taking a step towards the figure and causing him to back away slightly.
"You're the lady Morgana. And you're Gwen's friend," Firren states, pointing to each of them in turn. "I have Gwen," he adds helpfully.
Merlin and Morgana exchange another glance. "Okay, Firren. Where do you have Gwen?" Merlin asks patiently.
Morgana bites down on the inside of her cheek, mind a confusing mess of worry about Gwen's wellbeing, complicated by a sudden and completely inappropriate desire to hear Merlin speak to Morgana herself in that kind, patient tone. She imagines it after a nightmare, soft and soothing as one of Gaius' calming drafts.
She brings her wandering attention back to Firren. The young man clears his throat and looks at them with evident pride. His chest seems to swell with it as he says, "She's my hostage."
"What?!" Merlin and Morgana yelp in identically alarmed and bewildered unison.
The young man sinks again and seats himself dejectedly on the edge of the blacksmith's anvil. He looks close to tears as he begins his story. "It's my mother. She was ill to start with, she's always been ill. She needed food, medicine and those are scarce in our village. I went to the lord of our village," the boy shivers, "Nobody's ever seen him, not really. He lives in a huge castle and nobody even knows his name.
We call him the Wolf King. Anyway, I did ask first, I asked very nicely, for some food and some money for medicine but he didn't give it to me. So I tried to steal it, I had to, you understand, don't you? My mother was dying! So. I went to his castle one night and just opened the door - and I'd barely even made it inside when I heard his voice." Firren draws a shaky breath.
"He said, that for the sin of trespass, he would curse both me and my mother. And then he - he turned us into werewolves. We were hunted from our village and now we have to live on the outskirts, terrified of the next full moon, which will be our first transformation. My mother's becoming sicker. She'll die if she doesn't get her home and her family back, she'll die. She won't survive the transformation."
Firren inhales again and straightens his back, looking boldly at the two people before him. "I need you and you and perhaps the Prince Arthur as well, to go to the castle of the Wolf King and make him lift the curse on me and my mother. Or kill him and lift it yourselves, I don't care which. And then you'll get your friend back."
There is no question in Morgana's mind that she needs to find Gwen and bring her home. "No. Give us Gwen, and then we'll ask your lord to lift the curse," she returns.
Firren blanches. "Is that, is that how the hostage thing usually works?" he asks, bright brown eyes shimmering with anxiety in the darkness. He shakes his head and gives a nervous cough.
"No, you're not fooling me. Our village, Pataglen, is a day's ride from here. My mother's already halfway back there with your friend, and I'm leaving now to join them. The Wolf King's castle is right next to the village." He shivers again. "So close it casts its terrible shadow over our whole lives. Bring the Prince Arthur, lift the curse, and find my mother and me next to the village and we'll give you back Gwen."
With that, Firren seems almost to fade away, into the darkness and out of the room before they can catch or follow him. "Wait! How do we lift the curse?" Merlin calls after his departing shadow, but he doesn't reply. He's gone, along with any chance they had of bargaining Gwen's return.
Morgana turns to Merlin with eyes bright with adrenaline and fervour. "We have to ride after her," she tells him.
"Yeah of course. I'll leave now, you get Arthur and follow us -" Merlin begins.
Morgana shakes her head emphatically. "No. I'm sure you want to be Gwen's knight in shining armour, but we need a plan, we don't even know anything about this Wolf King." She considers for a moment.
"You find out everything Gaius knows about werewolves and curses. I'll get Arthur, and we'll meet again in my chambers in half an hour," she decides, pushing her way out the door and back towards the castle before he can argue with her.