I couldn't help it. I was attacked by plot bunnies! They made me do it!
It's a Gwaine and Morgana story, but not Morgana/Gwaine, y'know. Y'know.

Be sure to leave your thoughts! :)

Morgana stood at the threshold of her hovel, leaning against the door frame, staring out into the forest at Camelot's edge. She crossed her pale arms across her chest, tapping her fingers against them impatiently. Sure, patience was a virtue, but of all the qualities Morgana Pendragon had been gifted with, patience wasn't one of them. Then a small form approached and Morgana placed a hand gently on the dagger she kept at her waist, and removed it as she recognized the form of her ward. When the young girl got close enough, she noticed the stern, displeased look on Morgana's face for she stopped in her tracks.

"Where were you? I know I told you not to leave without notifying me."

"I thought you wanted me to collect herbs this morning?" she asked, gesturing to the basket that hung on her arm.

Morgana remembered.

"That's right," she muttered grimly, ushering the girl inside.

"You forgot again, did you?"

"Now Emeline, you could have left a note for me."

"I will next time."

Emeline placed her basket on the table and began to sort through the various herbs Morgana asked her to collect as she watched carefully over her.

"You forgot rosemary."

"I could find none. Is it immediately required?"

"It's not of much importance. It just adds some flavor to the meat."

Once the herbs were restocked in their respective jar, correctly, the two ladies sat by the fire Morgana had going, Emeline scratching gently at the triskele on the inside of her left arm.

"Stop," Morgana muttered, almost absently.

"Sorry."

"Does it bother you?"

"No. I just...I just miss my people at times."

Morgana's eyes lingered on Emeline for a moment, then settled back to the red flames.

Morgana staggered through the forest, each step draining her of more energy. Her hand remained clamped over the apparently fatal wound on her side. She'd hunted these woods so many times, so why was she lost? Every turn confused her all the more, so she was surprised when she stumbled upon...a camp? She didn't know what it was. Perhaps she was hallucinating. She fell to the dirt, stirring up some leaves, her vision starting to fade. Were people approaching her? What in the hell were they saying? It didn't sound English. It was calming. Then everything went dark.

She saw Emrys again. Just Emrys, nothing else. The old man was smiling. Smiling gleefully. Like the cat that ate the canary. It scared Morgana. He was speaking. She couldn't hear him. Did he say Merlin? The servant. No, he couldn't be of any importance, right? Though the boy was too meddlesome for his own good. He had to go. Was Emrys saying that? All she understood was Merlin.

Merlin.

She awoke inside a tent, redressed in a plain tunic and gray trousers. Where was her black dress? She quite liked it. Someone was at her side. A young, vibrantly red-headed girl tended to her, placing a bandage on her side. She was alive. The girl revealed herself to be Emeline, and informed Morgana she was in a Druid camp, saying 'it was lucky we found you, much longer and you would have died in that forest'. Druid camp. She was among a magical people only designed to help those in need. Her people. She was safe. As safe as the bad seed Pendragon could possibly be so close to Camelot. Over the time she spent in the camp, Morgana did something akin to befriending Emeline, who tended to her each day, even after she was healed. They talked. Often about nothing, but sometimes about something. This particular Druid, she was special, different than the others. Morgana sensed it. And Morgana grew fond of the girl; none of the Druids had any objections to Morgana removing her from the camp. She had no family, no one who overly cared for her. Thus Emeline became Morgana's ward.

"Morgana?"

Looking back to her friend, she smiled. No matter how stern Morgana wanted to be in the raising of Emeline and her magic, she could never do so. Morgana was far too fond of the girl to be overly stern.

"Do you recall where we last left off?" Morgana asked, gently sliding down in her chair.

"Holding a spell without looking at the source, I believe."

"Right. You seemed to struggle there. Go. Increase the flames. Carefully." She emphasized her last word, watching her charge. Emeline's eyes glowed a deep gold and the flames in the pit leapt toward the roof.

"Mental incantations, good, good. Now, look to the bed. Divert your eyes, not your attentions. Keep thinking of the fire."

The second Emeline turned her head, the flames died back to its light flickering around a charred pot. Morgana sighed; how could Emeline expect to rid her of Merlin when she couldn't hold her attentions?

"You're not focusing. You're losing your attention when you turn to something else. Keep all your thoughts to your spell, as with all of them. Again."

The flames leapt again and died again as Emeline turned away.

"Again."

A third time, again a failure; Morgana leaned forward, slightly bemused.

"Not again Morgana, please."

"You will try until you get it right."

Emeline groaned and leaned back, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm tired, milady..."

"You may rest. Once you've mastered your task, of course."

"Morgana," Emeline whined in her most childlike, irritating voice.

The witch's eyes began to slip shut as she leaned her head against her chair. "Now, my Druid girl."

She heard her charge grumble an unhappy incantation and she saw the light of the flame increase through her eyelids.

"Now. Focus on the flame, on nothing but the flame."

Then Emeline looked to her hands, then around the room. The flame faltered slightly, but otherwise held strong.

"Not bad. Not bad at all."

Since Agravaine's death, Morgana had no one for her inside of Camelot. She found just her confidant in Emeline, who was more than willing to help. So she trained the Druid, teaching her all she would need to know about magic, fighting, about Camelot. Now, over a year and a half later, Morgana was ready to send the girl to the kingdom. Best case, Morgana would join her in due time. Worst case, they went back to their hovel and laid low for a while. Now it seemed that Emeline was ready.

Just one more fine-tune...