The steam wreathed around Morgana up toward the vaulted roof. This had been the work of master builders; the basin of the great bath was still intact. The building housing it was merely derelict, not a ruin, the vault and columns were still reasonably situated. Morgana floated as lightly as a leaf on the surface of the water. Her consciousness poised between the everyday world and the hyper-awareness her magical abilities gave her. She drifted across the surface of the great pool, never touching the sides, only drifting enveloped in liquid warmth. She felt Arthur's presence in her mind; he was near. She smiled as she spun a charm to draw him to her.
Arthur felt himself growing restless and gritty under his armour. He'd dropped back from his company of knights, even sending Merlin ahead to Camelot so he might have time to himself. As the crown prince he had very little time to ponder his own thoughts. He knew that the old baths were nearby and felt that he might well wish to soak his saddle-sore body there. Even in their current state of disrepair the old baths were superior in comparison to the royal bathhouse at
Camelot.
He looked for a sheltered spot to tether his horse, only to find the gelding Morgana had currently been riding already there. Arthur knew that Morgana's own mare was pregnant and was grateful to be able to tether his stallion with the gelding.
That left the question of Morgana. Just where was she? In the bath perhaps? That was a very delightful proposition, Arthur decided. He might just be able to come upon her unawares. Of course he could, he was a trained warrior. While she was just a bit of a girl, a very delectable bit of a girl, but still a girl.
Arthur entered the shell of the Great Bathhouse. He caught a glance of Morgana lightly borne on the surface of the heated water. Her new milk skin was delicately kissed pink from the heat like the roseate dawn light playing across the surface of the marble statues. Damp strands of dark hair lay in an intricate lacework on a shoulder Arthur knew would be as pale and smooth as marble but infinitely soft. Morgana was as beautiful as any idealized statue of a goddess; but she was his childhood friend grown into this exquisite young woman.
As Arthur approached, Morgana now fully aware swam to the edge of the pool. She splashed him and laughingly said, "You make enough noise for an entire company of knights, Arthur Pendragon."
"Be mindful of the chain mail, it does rust," he replied. "If my armour becomes rusty then in what straights would that leave your champion, my lady? I should say little otter. You look just like an otter, wet as you are with your hair slicked back from your face."
"You don't have to clean the mail. Merlin will have the job of rubbing it in sand." Morgana swam to the middle of the pool. She airily asked, "So, my rusty prince how quickly can you divest yourself of your armour without Merlin's assistance? Will you be fleet enough to catch this otter?"
Arthur set about removing his armour and garments with credible haste he averred. Morgana smirked and tread water sending the occasional splash toward him and enjoying the sight of Arthur working at keeping his mail and fine leather boots dry.
When finally free of any encumbrance, he declared to Morgana, "Now I will be the otter, my lady, and you the fish."
Arthur dove into the water displaying excellent form. Morgana dove beneath the water swimming deftly away from his grasping hands. He broke the surface of the water gasping for breath just as she entwined her arms behind him from behind. She breathed into his ear, "You have certainly risen to the occasion Arthur."
He slipped around in her grasp facing her for a kiss. Morgana opened her mouth, teasing him with her tongue then pulling them both underwater still in their kiss.
When they both broke the surface, Arthur sputtered, "Morgana, you always surprise me."