Chapter One – The Wager
Morgana was happy. Simply, materialistically, happy. She smiled against the rim of her wine goblet, watching the dancers in the centre of the room and wondering idly which one of her following would ask her to dance first tonight. Sir William, perhaps, or maybe Sir George. Probably Sir George, she decided; Sir William was still sulking after her dismissal of him the other week. Honestly, she'd had more important things on her mind than the high maintenance ego of an overstated knight.
Things like dresses and insufferable older brothers who thought that because she was a woman, her opinion was worthless and should be ignored as a matter of course. That was probably because she'd disagreed with him though. She was sure his reaction would've been rather different if she'd backed him up. Boys, she thought, so touchy. She smiled again. So easy to manipulate.
And speaking of boys and manipulating them, she'd better recapture Sir William's affections as out of all of her followers, he was one of the relatively intelligent ones and she rather liked his company. Her eyes scanned the guests for him. He wasn't hard to spot; he kept glancing at her from where he stood, chatting to a young woman. Trying to make her jealous. Maybe he wasn't as smart as she'd thought then, if he thought she'd fall for that.
But still, Morgana Le Fay was not about to be cast away for a fifteen year old, no matter whose daughter she was. She caught his eye and gave him a dazzling smile. He gazed at her, forgetting the woman at his side. She laughed, her eyes twinkling prettily, then turned away.
To see her step-brother looking at her, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
'You're in a good mood,' he observed.
'Really? I had no idea,' Morgana replied sarcastically. Arthur was silent for a moment and she took the opportunity to throw Sir William another smile. He grinned stupidly at her and she sighed mentally; definitely not as smart as she'd thought. She turned back to Arthur who was giving her his 'unimpressed' look.
'You think everybody loves you, don't you?'
She smirked at him.
'No. I know everybody loves me,' she said simply, taking a sip from her goblet and looking over at the dancers again, examining the embroidery on the hem of Lady Eleanor's gown.
'I don't,' Arthur said pointlessly. She sighed in impatience.
'You don't count. You're too...brotherly.'
She gestured at him and continued, 'I meant every man but you.'
Then she returned to ignoring him and he cast his gaze around the room, looking for someone else to prove his insufferable sister wrong. His eyes alighted on Merlin. Perfect, he thought; Merlin hadn't even to notice the existence of women as potential objects of desire yet. He faced his sister again.
'Merlin doesn't,' he said confidently. Morgana looked at him in surprise and confusion.
'Who is Merlin?' she asked, running through the names of every knight and noble she knew.
'Merlin is my manservant,' Arthur said, grinning. 'He's over there, pouring wine for Sir Peregrine.'
She looked over, across the table where Sir Peregrine sat and standing next to him was the man she assumed was Merlin. He straightened up and she took in his dark hair and pale, clear skin. He noticed her examination of him and smiled easily at her, then moved on to offer the knight next to Peregrine more wine.
She gaped in shock. Where was the adoring grin? The stumble? The expression akin to having been clubbed over the head? He hadn't dropped the jug in his hand, smiled dopily, blushed, tripped or even seem to realize that the most wanted woman in the kingdom was smiling at him. Smiling at him! Knights would fight to the death for that honour! What was wrong with him! She frowned and whipped around to see Arthur's self-satisfied smirk.
'Did you plan this?' she hissed.
'Nope,' he said, popping the 'p'.
'Then why- what- this is impossible! He didn't even notice!'
Arthur's smug look intensified.
'So how does it feel being unwanted?' he asked grinning. She glared at him furiously.
'He may not want me now, but I will make him want me. You'll see,' she bit out.
'Oh really? If you're so sure about that, would you care for a wager?' Arthur's confidence had risen dramatically at his 'winning' a point in their argument. She responded immediately.
'What terms?'
'You have one month, during which you must not only catch his eye, but secure his affections as well. That means he has to like you as a person and not just as the object of late-night fantasies,' Arthur declared, not being able to resist the jibe at the end.
'Are you implying that men don't like my personality?' she asked, daring him to insult her.
'Why yes. Yes I am. That is exactly what I'm implying, dear sister,' he said, still smirking. She narrowed her eyes.
'Fine. By the end of the month, your manservant is going to be madly in love with me: the most desirable woman in Camelot, the woman who is so untouchable to those of his class that she's practically a ghost. And he won't be allowed anywhere near me. And when that breaks his little heart into a million pieces, you will know that it was all—your—fault,' she hissed furiously.
Arthur was unfazed; Merlin would never fall prey to any of Morgana's usual snares. He was more interested in a woman's character than her body. Morgana's flirtations would have no effect on him and he would probably end up disliking her because really, not even Merlin (who could love almost anyone) would be able to find something likeable in her, manipulative fox that she was. Of this, Arthur was sure.
'How will we judge the completion of the wager?' Morgana questioned. Arthur smiled easily.
'He'll confess his feelings. To me.'
Damn. It would've been too much to hope that she could just get him to confess to her; she'd lost count of how many men she'd made tell her they loved her. It wasn't all that difficult, considering. But how to make him confess to Arthur… No matter, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. For now…
'Done,' she said.
'Done,' Arthur echoed. She turned away from him to consider Merlin, now pouring wine for a lady. She smiled at him coyly and he said something, to which she giggled, before he moved on to the next diner. A predatory smirk settled on her face.
Let the games begin.