Title: Beguiled
Category: Het (Canon)
Characters/Pairings: Cenred/Morgause
Rating/Warnings: M
Summary: He hated her for offering a temptation he was powerless to resist. She despised him because she couldn't stay away. This is a retelling of the beautiful catastrophe known as Cenred and Morgause, whose powerful lust could only be matched by their lust for power.

Chapter 1: Meeting

"Halt!" an unknown voice commanded sharply. "Show yourself!"

Morgause rolled her eyes in exasperation, then affected a guileless smile as she turned and lowered her hood. "Yes?" she inquired with all the sweetness she could muster.

The guard adjusted the torch in his hand to have a better look at her face. "I-ah... what brings you here, my lady?"

"I've come to see your king." As if that wasn't blatantly obvious.

The man's interested gaze drifted lower, lingering upon the full breasts that were half exposed in her rich velvet gown. And then finally, he cleared his throat, lifting his watery blue eyes to meet her amused stare.

Men... such predictable creatures, Morgause thought scornfully.

"It's after midnight. What business could a lady of quality such as yourself have with the king that cannot wait until morning? You're obviously not one of..."

"One of Cenred's whores?" she helpfully supplied when he trailed off, his face turning red with embarrassment. "No, I am not. Nonetheless, it's imperative that I see him. If you'll excuse me..."

And with that, she turned on her heel and strode purposefully in the direction of the large double doors that led to the throne room.

"My lady, wait! The king is... indisposed! You mustn't go in there!" the guard called urgently, and Morgause sighed as she heard swift footfalls behind her. She was tempted to dispose of the fool right then and there, but restrained herself with the reminder that killing Cenred's guards probably wouldn't be the best way to begin negotiations. Ignoring the hapless man's protests, she whispered an incantation that blew the doors wide open with a resounding bang.

The king was sprawled lazily across his throne, leather breeches unfastened and pushed down to his thighs. A long, elegant hand rested on top of the mass of tangled brown hair in his lap as the woman's head bobbed up and down with a ridiculous flurry of theatrical moans and loud sucking noises.

"May I help you?" he questioned with a hint of sarcasm, seeming unruffled by the dramatic entrance.

"My name is Morgause."

"So I assumed. I already responded to your letter; did I not say I would meet with you in a month's time?"

Morgause flashed him a benign smile. "I informed you I was coming. I never said I intended to wait for your invitation."

Cenred closed his eyes, letting out a low groan of pleasure before making a visible effort to control himself. "Grounds for an extended stay in my dungeons for anyone else. In your case, however, I'll make an exception."

"How generous of you. Perhaps you might ask your guest to leave so we can speak privately?"

"Presumptuous to a fault, my lady. You may choose to barge in on me in the middle of the night; I am not responsible for what you'll find when you do. Alas, I have no intention of sending my guest away until I've had my pleasure." He paused, shooting her a wicked look. "Unless you'd like to take her place, of course."

Morgause snorted. "Not a chance."

"Well then, I suppose you'll just have to wait until I'm done. I'm afraid I'm swiftly reaching the point where intelligent conversation will no longer be an option."

"Like it was to begin with?"

Cenred let out an appreciative chuckle, his laughter trailing off into a sudden hiss as he scrabbled for the arm of his throne, gripping the iron surface so hard his knuckles turned white. Morgause sank down into a nearby chair, watching with interest as his head fell back, eyelids fluttering closed as his lips parted to emit a succession of harsh, rasping pants.

The man was quite attractive, really, particularly in the throes of passion. Morgause liked his long , lean body, especially when clad in leather, which highlighted his sleek frame. Perhaps it wasn't the most practical clothing he could've chosen, no doubt responsible for at least some of the sweat that glistened upon his skin as he neared his release. But then again, that was probably irrelevant to him at the moment.

Pleasure... every man wore it differently. Most of them looked or sounded ridiculous when they began to lose control; Morgause had been unfortunate enough to learn that through quite a bit of experience. Not Cenred though – his finely sculpted features only became more fierce, more primal with his increasing need. And when he began to groan aloud, a deep, husky sound that ended on an enticing growl, she was surprised to realize she was aroused.

Perhaps she should have taken him up on his offer to trade places with the whore? No, certainly not. A woman like herself was meant to be serviced, not the other way around.

Cenred would learn that soon enough.

"Now then," Cenred said mildly once he'd recovered enough to fasten his breeches, dismissing the woman who'd satisfied his needs without a second glance. "May I offer you a drink, my lady?"

"No... but you might want to get one for yourself. You're sweating like a pig in all that leather. It's quite undignified, really."

He smirked as he reached for a nearby pitcher. "A fine idea. You should be reprimanded for your impudence, of course, but why spoil my good mood? Why don't we cut to the chase instead? I do need to get some sleep sooner or later."

Morgause rolled her eyes. "I've come to talk about..."

"Uther," Cenred said flatly, as something dark flitted across his features. "Yes, I know."

"I want him dead."

"As do I, dear lady. What's your point?"

"Let me rephrase that," she amended, treating him to a sweet smile. "I intend to kill him."

"Indeed? And how exactly do you mean to pull that off? Camelot boasts the most well guarded fortress in five kingdoms; believe me, if it was as simple as walking into the palace and murdering the bastard, I would've done it years ago."

Morgause stood up and sauntered over to the throne. "You're absolutely correct. Separately, we lack the strength, but together..."

Cenred scoffed, though he was clearly interested in the generous view of cleavage she provided as she leaned over his chair. "I have a formidable army at my disposal. Power, lands, riches... I still can't claim to be any match for Uther Pendragon. What do you think you have to offer that will change that? Magic tricks?"

With a great deal of effort, Morgause suppressed a sharp retort. Patience... this man would be putty in her hands soon enough. That would be the time to make him pay for his careless dismissal of her powers; meanwhile, it was crucial not to run the risk of alienating him before she'd even won him to her side.

"Your guard... the one who accosted me just before I entered your hall? He's patrolling the outer perimeters right now. I can sense his presence."

"So? Even if you're correct, what does that prove? A few minutes observation or even just a lucky guess would be enough to predict that much."

"Fair enough," Morgause grudgingly conceded. "But would it be a matter of 'luck' if I were to strike him dead from this distance?"

Cenred was obviously struggling to control his laughter. "Why don't you give it a try? I could use the entertainment."

"As you wish."

And then the words flowed from her like water, echoing around the cavernous hall as she recited the familiar spell. The skeptical king fell silent as he watched her; Morgause smiled inwardly, knowing what a compelling sight she made as she dropped the facade of ordinary woman and became the High Priestess that could bring a man to his knees with a single word... in supplication, adoration, helpless lust, or...

"Angsumnesse!"

The screams were excruciating, harrowing enough to make a person cringe even from the opposite side of the fortress. Morgause waited patiently as they choked off into silence, smirking at Cenred as she reveled in the stunned expression that was now fixed upon his handsome features.

Heavy footfalls pounded through the corridor, followed by the panicked babbling of a pair of guards as they burst through the doors, hauling the body of their fallen companion.

"Well," Cenred commented dryly, having recovered his wits somewhat. "This seems to be the night for dramatic intrusions."

"I-I'm sorry, sire! But... he just... he was fine, and then he was screaming as if the fires of hell were upon him! There was nothing we could do! He just... it was all over so quickly! Sire, there must be a poisoner in the fortress!"

"I pay you to stand guard, not to waste my time on hysterical speculation. Now remove yourselves from my sight."

"But..."

"Now."

"How forceful you are, Cenred," Morgause remarked with only the slightest edge of mockery in her tone. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"I suppose I could say the same, my lady."

She laughed merrily, taking a great deal of pleasure in the newfound respect in his eyes. "Was that enough to prove my value as an ally, or do you require additional proof of my powers?"

Cenred raised an eyebrow as his lips twitched with just the slightest hint of a smile. "I think that will do for now. Take a seat, Morgause – may I call you Morgause? Yes? Very well then, let us talk. You've intrigued me, that's for sure, but I fail to understand why you need me if you're capable of... whatever it is you just did."

"It's quite simple, Cenred," she replied sweetly, not bothering to ask permission to use his name in return. "You know as well as I do what will happen if King Uther is murdered..."

"That insipid son of his will take the throne. Yes, I know. I can't say I've ever thought much of the boy, but I find it hard to believe he could grow up to be as much of a bastard as his father is. He doesn't have the balls to be a tyrant, for one thing."

"That's exactly right. From what I know of Arthur, he's... pliable. Easily influenced. That's to our advantage, of course, but Camelot will remain a powerful kingdom with or without Uther calling the shots. Any attempt on the king's life will be met with a great deal of resistance. That is why we must present ourselves as allies, not enemies."

Cenred frowned. "I don't understand."

"Take pains to ensure that we're not implicated in Uther's death. And then when the king falls and all is in chaos, we make sure we're there to offer Arthur our strength. He is young, naive, and will be blinded by grief. We can use that to our advantage, Cenred. If we can find a way to gain his trust, we can mold him into exactly the kind of leader we wish him to be."

"It would certainly be useful to have the new King of Camelot indebted to me, to know my ambitions would be met with no resistance from that direction in the future. But what about you, Morgause? What do you hope to gain from this?"

"King Uther is responsible for the ruthless slaughter of my kind," she responded quietly. "He's the reason people like me are forced to live in secrecy and fear. I want my freedom, Cenred. That's all. But killing Uther won't be enough, not when Arthur will only follow in his father's footsteps."

Cenred studied her face intently. "You have a plan then? Tell me."

Morgause smiled. "I don't have the patience to undo more than twenty years of brainwashing… at least, not gradually. That is why I intend to see that it happens in a single night."

"That's... ambitious of you, my lady. Impossible, perhaps, but ambitious nonetheless."

"For anyone else, yes," Morgause declared with a confident smile. "But not for me. Allow me to explain..."

"You mean Uther used magic to conceive his son, killing his wife in the process? And that's why..."

"Yes."

Cenred shook his head as he leaned back against his throne. "Hypocrite."

"I'd be inclined to agree with you."

"And Arthur knows nothing of this? You are certain?"

"I'd stake my life on it."

"It's little wonder you feel the way you do," he said thoughtfully, running his fingers through his hair. "So much suffering, and for what? To soothe his guilty conscience? It's no different than it would be to seek vengeance against every blacksmith in existence, simply because you injured yourself on a sword one of them crafted. It's not the tools themselves that are at fault, only the men who misuse them."

Morgause stared at him in surprise. She'd already assumed he'd form an alliance with her – his grudge against the King of Camelot was hardly any secret. But the sympathy in his voice was the last thing she would've expected. Even in areas where magic was still permitted, sorcery was usually met with a great deal of suspicion by those who didn't practice it themselves.

"So you're planning on revealing the truth to Arthur then?" Cenred questioned after a moment, interrupting her thoughts. "Harsh, but necessary. Very well... tell me what I can do to help you."