The King's Ward

Chapter One

Morgana sat in her satin nightdress on the wooden table Gaius and the servant boy used to make medicinal concoctions for Uther. She had been waiting there for quite some time. Her gift was her doom, she knew. But she wasn't going down without getting her one last wish.

Finally, Merlin entered.

Morgana looked up, trying to conceal her smirk, but the green eyes sparkled with their characteristic mischief.

Merlin was stunned, to say the least, to find a lady of such high lineage sit on his working table, in a satin nightdress that was more see through than he thought he should be allowed to see.

The thought crossed his mind that she had come here to seduce him, but the notion was so unthinkable he quickly dismissed it. The nightdress must have been for somebody else. For all he knew, this is what princesses wore every night. Maybe it was a royal thing that he simply could not understand, like most of their traditions.

"M-Morgana..." he stuttered, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the fabric covering - if we could call it that - her ample bosom.

"Merlin," she looked suddenly so helpless and desperate. She stood up, drawing the white fur coat in front of her chest. Merlin had nothing left to concentrate on than her eyes. "Merlin... I..."

"What's wrong, Morgana?" His chest swell with the desire to protect her. He didn't recognize it, because he hadn't felt it before, but it was the beginnings of love that were starting to blossom in his heart. He would have denied it, even if he knew, knowing he had more chance to be appointed Uther's future successor than a chance with the Lady Morgana.

Morgana stood up, approaching him, her fur coat covering everything. It was with relief and disappointment that he acknowledged this. He did not want to have disrespectful thoughts about her. It was wrong, just plain wrong.

"Merlin," she said, eyes imploring him to something he did not yet know and could not fathom, "Merlin... I think I have magic."

"N-No... I don't think you do." Merlin suddenly didn't know what else to say; the confession had been so unexpected never in his worst nightmares had he expected it to come. He was completely at loss for words.

"I do, Merlin!" She insisted, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. They were only inches away from each other now, her chest nearly touching his. He felt dizzy with attraction. But Kilgharrah... "Merlin, I... I can't control it, Merlin; it just comes. When I woke up, again, in the middle of the night - and the dreams, Merlin, the dreams! Have you not noticed their uncanny ability to come true? Like with that girl, Sophie - "

"Morgana," Merlin said, trying to sound like the exasperated voice of reason calming down a young, naive girl with an overactive imagination. "You can't have magic. One of the pretequisites to being a sorceress is being able to control your powers."

"Oh, and how would you know?!" She snapped, furious. Here she was confessing her greatest secret to a man she thought she was in love with, who was now waving it away like it all meant nothing. She was furious.

Oh, how quickly all love had turned to hate.

"What about the dreams then?!" She demanded, as a last, desperate try. "They do come true. And they have protected Arthur numerous times."

Merlin forced a laugh, though to Morgana it came off genuine - genuinely supercilious. Morgana suddenly didn't know what she had been thinking coming here. What had she hoped to achieve? Now that it seemed clear that Merlin didn't return her feelings, any belief to the contrary seemed ludicrous, and any perceived evidence forced, a figment of her imagination - nay, delusion. She wanted to slap herself as much as she wanted to slap him, to hurt him as much as he had hurt her... but she knew that was silly and chided herself against her vengeful thoughts.

"How many times do you think people have nightmares? Of their relatives, of their friends dying horrible deaths? These are just dreams, Morgana. The fact that they sometimes coincide with reality are just that - coincidences."

Morgana was so frustrated she wanted to scream. The tears that had been prickling at the side of her eyes now came rolling down her pale, thin cheeks. She wiped her eyes and sniffled, hating how childlike and vulnerable she sounded. The only thing worse than being hurt, she thought, was others knowing that you were.

"I should go," she said, trying to hide her red face, contorted by the effort it took to suppress all her emotions.

"No! Morgana!" But she was already out the door.

Her sobs reverberated in the corridors she walked in, trying to find her way back to her chambers.

Feeling more miserable than she had ever recalled in a long time, she could no longer restrain her heart, giving her feelings full reign as she came undone. She regretted everything, every decision that had led up to this point, blaming herself all of it, wishing she could go back - retract her first and only and failed attempt at seduction, her foolish feelings for a boy who cared not for her sort, princess or not - she supposed it was better this way... When it came to romance between royals and their servants, one could never know whether the one of lesser rank was in love with the person or the title... many a prince and princess had fallen flat on their faces after finding the "love of their life..." Oh, how cruel servants could be! She supposed it was better that at least Merlin was honest... and didn't try to take advantage of her feelings to attain a higher rank in the hierarchy of the Court...

Oh, yes. Kind Merlin. Good Merlin. But she supposed he was as much of a dolt as Arthur had always insisted... who else would so obviously deny the most obvious evidence of magic, laugh off a confession from a potential sorceress in Uther's kingdom?

Her heart suddenly skipped a beat. She hoped... she hoped, certainly, that he hadn't only feigned disbelief but actually, truly rejected the notion that she might be a sorcerer... even if for Morgana that seemed to indicate a complete lack of basic intelligence... and in the short time she had gotten to know Merlin, she had thought him more intelligent than that...

She dismissed the thought, closed the fear away into a part of her mind she vowed not to open until the next morning. Standing in front of Arthur's chambers, she suddenly thought everything did happen for a reason. She didn't truly desire sex, just the illusion of intimacy it gave. It was for the better that Merlin hadn't taken the initiative, hadn't noticed the signs that of course could be easily misinterpreted. She heaved a sigh of relief, and thanked the Heavens for making Merlin into such a gentleman... or, you know, just plain not interested in her. It stung, but she shooed the thought away, because she could not take the pain. Rejection stung all the more because she had never really felt it before.

Arthur. She focused her mind on Arthur. She suddenly needed his love like a breath of fresh air. The boy who had been in her life since her early childhood, ever since her father's death - who had been her partner in crime, her rival and her confidante all her life... what she wanted most of all right now was a friend, who assured her she was still loveable, that the gift - or curse, it was debatable - of magic hadn't transferred her into a detestable monster overnight...

From the end of the corridor, she could already spot the guards in front of Arthur's chamber. She froze, tried to make no noise as she thought of a way to fix this. She thought about abandoning her mission halfway through, but then decided that just would not do. She strode over to the guards, pulling the woolen coat closer together in front of her body. She now doubly regretted her choice of nightwear. She held her high and talked with all the might she could muster, "Let me into the Prince Arthur's chambers at once. I need to speak with him immediately." The guards exchanged glances. "Imminent orders from the King."

The guards seemed dubious.

"One of you could certainly jog along and ask the King himself," she said before either of them could talk, "and waste all of our times, but all you would achieve is anger him by doubting the word of his ward. What is a mere guard next to the King's ward?" She no longer had to muster the might; it came naturally. She talked, sounded, and looked like a real Queen. Her attire did not matter - the feeling she instilled in the hearts of others was what truly defined a royal.

The guards exchanged another meaningful glance with which they seemed to communicate to each other that they would not risk a telling-off by the King. They stepped aside and let Morgana pass through. The thought occurred to her that the doors might be closed, but they magically opened when she pushed down the door handle. She did not stop to think about it, just thanked the Gods for her luck, and stepped inside, shutting the chamber doors behind her.

Arthur was already stirring, scratching the back of his head, his eyes barely open, like a two week old kitten's. He looked helpless and vulnerable. It felt invasive to see him in this state.

She walked over to his bed, a wave of nervousness washing over her. Cracking her knuckles, she was forced to realize that this too had probably been another bad idea. She should not, she decided, make important decisions under such intolerable duress.

"Morgana?!" He said, still half-asleep. "What are you doing here? In my chambers?"

"Ssh," she said, eyes imploring, "please don't yell. I had to seek you out. I am troubled."

"At midnight?" He asked, glancing at the clock on the wall opposite of him.

"Yes, Arthur," she said, a tad exasperated. "I had another nightmare."

"Just learn to ignore them, like all grown-ups," Arthur said irritably.

Could the men of Camelot simply not show any support towards a fellow? Morgana was furious, but it was her who had come to his chambers; she decided against showing it. "Arthur, please," she begged, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Arthur seemed revolted. Her second rejection of the day, and Morgana could not fathom how ugly she must look to these men. "Arthur, I'm begging you. I'm alone and I need help. Somebody to... just hold me." Her eyes were tearful. She began sobbing softly, barely audibly, but all the more miserably.

Arthur sat up in his bed. He suddenly felt awake. He had never seen Morgana cry since his father's passing. It was a serious matter, one he knew he could no longer downplay, nor chalk up to her usual so-perceived nuttiness.

"What is it?" His voice was suddenly much softer. Morgana, who had lost hope up until this point, could barely believe the sudden change in demeanor.

"I... I..." Morgana had already told someone who hadn't believed her, and she supposed that had been the best thing that could happen to her. What if someone believed her and reported her? She had been so desperate for companionship she had left common sense behind. Thankfully, as her panic decreased, so seemed her common sense to be returning. She wanted to tell Arthur - she burned to do so - but it did not make logical sense. Maybe tomorrow... when the fog of emotion around her mind had cleared. Maybe then, and only then, she decided, would she risk opening up her heart to someone again. After all, Arthur had tossed it aside one too many a time previously to grant him immediate access to her every thought and emotion.

Oh, vengefulness would just never leave her, would it? The demon of it crept inside her, destroying her insidiously, from the inside, until nothing was left but an insatiable desire for revenge. But that would only come later...

Before she became a monster, she first had to be a girl, just a little girl with a thorn in her heart...

"I... do you mind if we just... we just... I just want someone to hold me. Remember when at night we were both afraid and came to each other's chambers for some comfort? I need... I need some of that now." She hated being so open and vulnerable with Arthur. "I just need... I just need a little love."

Arthur didn't seem to fancy the idea of her in the same bed with him. His eyes were wide as saucepans. Morgana felt awfully unlovable. Did no man in Camelot like her, even? Did the boy who had almost been like a sibling reject her too at her time of need? Ah, fickle men! She longed for the uncomplicated amity of her servant and closest friend...

"I..." Morgana said. "I just need... I can go, if you want," she said at last, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't even try to hold them back anymore. She knew it was no use; the emotions were simply too intense.

"N-no! Stay," Arthur said, his eyes panicked. He smiled at her tentatively, blue eyes full of uncharacteristic warmth, especially when they looked at him. "Like when we were children," he said, smiling, obliging. He suddenly seemed too eager, but Morgana didn't know what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. She only slid of the white fur coat after she was safely tucked under Arthur's covers, ignoring all of the prince's disparaging comments as to her state of mind for doing so. She hated him, but she had no one else. She supposed she should be grateful for the little love she had left, even if it came from a little tyrant like Arthur. She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine them as they were when they had been as children...

Playing, laughing together... loving each other as true siblings... until adolescence set in, and Arthur started distancing himself from him, abandoning her and their relationship in favor of swords and other manly endeavors... since then, anything and everything she ever was or would be would only be considered silly by him, God knew why.

"Can you hold me?"

"I - Morgana. We're not children anymore."

"I know. But for just one night... let's pretend we're still friends and love each other, alright? I need someone. I'm so alone."

Up until that point, it hadn't even occurred to Arthur how alone she might feel in a foreign castle far away from her homeland, no more relatives left, with only an idiot like him and a kind but lowly servant girl to keep her company... and out of these two, only Gwen was openly a friend. He decided to harbor and nourish his feelings in secret. He could not bear to admit them. Saying them aloud would make it more real, and once it became real, there was no going back. He had to deny it even from himself as long as it was possible.

As glamorous as her life seemed on the outside, he thought, it was devoid of life and therefore meaningless. He obliged and hugged her. He smelled the whiff of the perfume on her hair, and could feel how thin the fabric of her night dress was. Now, he thought he understood why she had refused to take off her fur coat before she was safely covered by his sheets. He stifled a chuckle. Then the horrific truth dawned on him. If the dress hadn't been for him - he doubted it was - who had it been for?

"Arthur," she suddenly said. "Don't hug me."

Good, he thought, stifling a sigh of relief. It was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.

"You asked for it!" He said out loud.

"And now I take it back," she said softly.

Arthur grumbled something under his breath, which Morgana ignored. "Good night," he said out loudly for her to hear, and she said, in a soft, half-awake voice. "Good night."

Arthur turned to his right, away from Morgana.

Morgana was asleep within minutes, but Arthur stayed up the entire night, tossing and turning, thinking about what great friends they had once been, and where they were now. Thinking about her beautiful curls... her pouty lips... and how he could desire them but never touch them, for any attraction between was simply unthinkable, how his sexuality had ruined every friendship and lost him the only friend he had ever had...

He did not want her, for he wanted a sweet and manageable woman lime Guinevere, not a force of nature like Morgana. He wanted his home to be a sanctuary, and not another battlefield. The intrigues of Court were enough to trouble him - he wanted to be left in peace upon his return to the Royal Chambers... he wanted a wife like his mother Igraine... he wanted his other half, not his total and utter equal. He wanted love, not rivalry. He...

He fell asleep with only thoughts of Morgana. That night, he forgot who Guinevere even was...

A/N: Hey! Thanks for reading so far, first of all.

This story is set somewhere in Season 1. Obviously, I altered the timelines somewhat... This story is going to focus mainly on pairings and the characters' inner turmoils, though of course "action", so to say, won't be scarce as well. If you don't like love triangles (there's going to be more than enough), or AUs, or ArMor, or ArWen, or Mergana, or Merlin x Guinevere (this ship died so soon I'm not sure whether it has a name or not...), it's better if you don't read on.

Reviews are most welcome, as long as they are written in a civil fashion.

So long, babes. xx