Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with BBC, Julian Murphy, Johnny Caps, etc (sadly). I do not own the characters in Merlin, I am using them under the fair use and/or transformative works clause of copyright law and receive not profit or material privilege from my use of them.
Okay, so this fic is meant to be light and happy (fine, happy-ish) because I needed an antidote to all the sad ones I've been writing. Please review! It makes me happy. Quick warning that this chapter is mostly set-up. They get more interesting, I promise.
The lady Morgana is feeling nervous as she saunters down the hall the rooms belonging to the physician, Gaius. This is in itself unusual - fear, yes, even terror are emotions she's familiar with from her dreams; but perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill nerves are an unusual feeling for. I suppose, she reflects, this is a very unusual situation.
Merlin looks up from a bowl of some type of hot stew as she comes in. Morgana feels the same stomach churning jolt she always does when his bright blue eyes meet hers and she tries hard to smile despite it.
"My lady," Merlin stands up formally. He's not surprised to see her, as she often comes to visit Gaius after a night of broken sleep. He just wishes he didn't feel such childish butterflies every time she entered the room; it did make it so hard to concentrate.
"Um, Gaius got called to a childbirth. I'm not sure when he'll be back, you might need to come again tomorrow," he tells her.
"No, that's alright. I, um, I wanted to speak to you, actually," Morgana runs a nervous finger over the grain in the wooden table.
Merlin's immediate thought is that she has somehow read his mind and is coming to tell him that his exile from Camelot for lusting after a lady of the court begins tomorrow. That, or his execution.
"Um, uh, do you...I mean, sit down. Have some stew, Gaius made lots," he stammers, pulling out a chair for her and taking a clean bowl to the pot, filling it with the still steaming mixture of rabbit meat and gravy.
"Oh. Thank you," being confronted by rabbit stew hadn't really featured in Morgana's plan, but it does smell good. She takes the bowl and sits down, letting the gravy cool before she takes a mouthful.
"Is there something I can help you with, my lady?" Merlin seats himself opposite her and looks at her with concern.
"There is, if you don't mind. You see -" Morgana takes a deep breath and tries to start at the beginning. "The king, in his almighty wisdom, has decided that it's time for me to marry."
And you're proposing to me? is Merlin's instinctual thought, which he pushes out of his mind with violent haste. "Right," he says.
"Right. He's asked several kings to stay with us next week - five, I believe - and he's issued an ultimatum. I have to choose one of them by the end of their stay. Or he'll choose for me."
"That's a bit harsh on you," Merlin commiserates, forgetting his awkwardness in his sympathy.
"That's what I said, but did he listen? Kings don't. That's why I don't want to marry one, and certainly none of the slimy, ancient men he's picked out for me. It's not really going to be my choice at all anyway - the kings will haggle over me like a choice cut of meat." The anger is evident in Morgana's voice.
"I mean, forgive me if this is a bad suggestion, but I always thought the king would marry you to Arthur?" Merlin asks; it's certainly what Gwen's as much as told him before.
"He seems strangely against the idea; I did suggest it - Gwen's a servant, Arthur's not going to be able to marry her; if he and I married we could produce an heir but generally be free. But Arthur's a romantic, he's convinced he and Gwen will be married. And Uther completely refused. Saving his only son for someone better, maybe?"
"Ah, you wouldn't have wanted Arthur. He'd be a nightmare to live with," Merlin says, finding the silver lining in the king's rejection.
She tilts her head is accession, "True."
"I'm not entirely sure where I come into all this," Merlin prompts, still slightly confused, if partially reassured that there'll be no exile or execution.
Morgana fidgets with her spoon. "Yes. Um, I need to ask you a favour, and it's going to sound a little strange, but I've been thinking about this all day and it's the only way I can think of to get out of this..." She takes a deep breath and forces herself to look into his dizzying eyes.
"I need you to pretend that we're...together. In love. That way, I have a legitimate reason for refusing the kings' advances."
Merlin feels a moment of elation. For her to act as though they're a couple, well, even if they're only 'pretending' it still sounds like heaven. Then reality draws him back down and shows him several flaws in her plan.
"Morgana, sorry, my lady, I really want to help you, it's just..."
"I know," she interrupts quickly, standing up to leave, feeling flustered and disappointed. 'I shouldn't have asked you this, it was inappropriate."
"No, wait. I want to help, I do, it's just I'm concerned that all that's going to happen is that the king will execute me and force you to marry anyway."
She frowns, stilling her movements.
"I wouldn't let him hurt you. I promise. And it was more, that is, if the other kings believe I'm already enamoured of someone they might choose to leave me alone. It might never reach the ears of the king," she's aware that she's pleading a little now. She hopes he doesn't see through her very transparent ploy - although she certainly doesn't want to marry any of the men Uther has in mind, she has to admit to herself that her plan was constructed mostly out of a desire to spend more time with Merlin.
He nods. It's all the reassurance he needs; he's aware it's risky, but he can't stop himself from saying, "Yes, I'll do it. Of course I'll do it."
A smile lights Morgana's face and the nervousness flees her body as she realises her plan has worked. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you."
He smiles back, a wide infectious grin that makes her heart beat faster. "I wouldn't want to see you unhappily married, my lady."
"It had better be Morgana, not my lady. Since we're in love," she jokes.
Merlin flushes at the words 'in love.' "What are friends for, Morgana?"
Morgana nods. She hates that word, 'friends,' it seems to preclude anything more developing between them. He's a friend. He doesn't want to be anything more than your friend, she forces herself to remember.
"Well then Merlin. I'll see you soon," and she is gone.