Author's Note: Title comes from the Robert Frost poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". Partially inspired by this exchange from the film Serenity: "So trap?" "Trap." [Quippy dialogue and someone asks how they know it's a trap] "Did you see us fight?" "No." "Trap."

Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission; I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Same goes for the poem used for the title. Please don't sue.

miles to go before i sleep
by Bether

There had been a dangerous smirk on Morgana's face at dinner that evening. Although there was always a dangerous smirk on her face these days, Merlin supposed. He frowned. How did no one else seem to notice her change of allegiance?

Well, that wasn't really fair. Gwen certainly felt the distance, the uncertainty. The dynamic of their relationship was entirely different now, though, and she was too caught up in her drama with Arthur to focus on the dark smirks under all their noses.

Gaius also saw the change in her but who were the court physician and a couple of servants compared with the King's Ward? Since her rescue, Morgana was more precious to Uther than ever. There was nothing to be done for it (except watch and hope and pray and perform magic in secret).

Merlin was sprawled on his sleeping pallet, pondering how to reveal Morgana's betrayals without risking his own premature demise when Gaius knocked at the door. It was hesitant, so Merlin knew he wasn't going to like what his great-uncle had to say. Hopefully it was nothing worse than Arthur making ridiculous requests of him again.

Worry creased Gaius's face and Merlin's heart stuttered. "Morgana has asked for a sleeping draught, Merlin," he said, his voice laced with apology "She wants you to bring it to her."

Morgana didn't seem to have night terrors anymore, so it must be a trap of some kind. It was evident from Gaius's expression his thoughts were in the same vein.

Wordlessly Merlin got off the pallet and took the vial. He felt Gaius's eyes follow him but his uncle didn't speak until he was almost out of the room. "Be careful, Merlin."

Half turning, Merlin forced a smile. (It didn't feel like an expression of joy.) "Promise." Of course, he always said that. And he always tried to be careful… except when he accidentally acted without thinking.

Merlin really hoped he wasn't lying to Gaius—or himself.

He walked at a sedated pace through the castle not particularly eager to complete his task. When he finally knocked on Morgana's door, Gwen opened it with a concerned smile. "Merlin, hello. I can—"

"Gwen," Morgana's voice cut in with a crisp tone, "can you please bring me some water? My pitcher seems to be dry."

"Of course, my Lady," Gwen said instantly. "I was just—"

"Now, please, Gwen," Morgana interrupted again in her firmest I am a Lady of the Court tone.

The friend in Gwen was clearly warring with the servant, so Merlin gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod and attempted another smile. (He doubted this one was any more successful than the previous try.)

Still visibly worried, Gwen returned the gesture. "Right away, my Lady," she said to her mistress. "Quick as I can." This, Merlin suspected, was a comfort meant for him more than Morgana.

Gwen retrieved the pitcher as he stepped into the room and then left. She made sure to leave the door wide open but a suspiciously firm gust of wind slammed it shut as soon as she turned the corner and left their line of sight.

Merlin didn't jump, he didn't wince or even speak (although he was sorely tempted on that last count). There really wasn't anything left to say, was the thing. He placed the vial on her table and Morgana looked at it as though it were dirt on the sole of her slippers.

Or poison, a voice not unlike his mother's offered unhelpfully in his mind. Guilt joined the suspicion swirling inside of Merlin. They had been warring inside of him regularly, testing his sanity.

"Merlin." The purr in Morgana's voice brought him back to the present and he realized with a jolt that she was much closer than before. "Why do you serve Arthur?"

See? Trap. "It's my job, milady," Merlin replied mildly. It didn't matter that he'd serve Arthur anyway because he believed in him, believed he'd become a great king someday. It didn't matter that the great dragon spoke of destiny, leaving him no other choice. None of that knowledge was for sharing, especially with Morgana.

She reached up and trailed a finger down his cheek. It felt like fire and sent shock waves down his spine. "You sell yourself short, Merlin. You have been such the faithful dog," she murmured. "Risking lives to protect your prince…"

It always came back to that, didn't it? Merlin jerked his head away and tried to regulate his breathing. He wasn't sure why but that seemed very important to whatever shreds of dignity he had left to hold onto right then. "It's my duty." He spoke calmly, despite feeling the sentiment deeply. It was another thing not to be shared, not with her.

"He doesn't treat you well," she commented without sympathy, "doesn't appreciate you." Morgana smiled and it was a dangerous thing. "Why not pledge your service to someone who does?"

Merlin's gaze narrowed. "You don't trust me," he pointed out. And I don't trust you, he added silently. Too much had passed between them to allow for that.

Morgana leaned in again and it took effort for Merlin to hold his ground—she was a powerful presence. "What does trust have to do with anything? This is about loyalty, about choosing a side. And I want you on mine." He could feel her breath on his neck as she whispered in his ear. "You could be my pet, Merlin. And I may bite sometimes, but I always share my scraps. You'd never go hungry with me as your mistress…" He didn't think she was talking about food.

Swallowing sharply, Merlin had to put some distance between them. He reverted to formality, a sure sign he had no idea how to respond because if there was anything he was terrible at, it was following the rules of court. "I have delivered you your sleeping draught, milady," he said stiffly. "If you'll give me my leave?"

With a casual wave of her hand, Morgana silently consented.

Merlin crossed to exit, moving slowly enough to hide his disquiet but quickly enough to make it clear he had no desire to stay any longer than absolutely necessary

"Oh and Merlin?" Wincing, he paused and turned to face Morgana again. There it was—the smirk. She made a show of picking up the vial and tossing it into the rubbish. "Do sleep well." It was spoken with the utmost sarcasm.

Merlin turned away and opened the door to find Gwen rushing toward him. He stepped aside to allow her entry, answering her questioning look with a short shake of his head. Now was not the time to discuss whatever had just happened. He could hear her starting up a conversation with Morgana as he hurried away, eager to put the exchange out of his mind.

It wasn't fair, he decided when he once again lay on his pallet, unable to sleep. That smirk on her too red lips haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. (Which may well have been her plan all along; Morgana had never been shy about using her feminine wiles to get her way.)

Merlin knew he would never leave Arthur, that he wanted to fight for their destiny. He had no doubts about that—and nothing but doubts when it came to Morgana. Still, it was hard to forget the sound of her voice, the sight of her lips, the feeling of her breath on his neck.

It was many nights before Merlin slept well again.