A knock on the door. Morgana stalked over and flung it wide open. The pale skinned youth with black curly hair and eyes colder and harder than flint strode past her into the room.

"You wanted to see me, Morgana."

It was a statement, not a question. A statement which demanded an answer.

"Yes... I was wondering whether you had dined yet. If not, do me the courtesy of joining me, won't you?"

Mordred blinked, surprised. "Of course, milady. As you wish. But I did wonder about the plan."

Morgana laughed, the tinkling of a thousand bells in the silence. "Yes, the plan! Rather ingenious, don't you think? If all happens as I- I mean, we wish it to, then I see no reason for Camelot not being ours within a month."

"Yes, but-"

"Hush now, let us enjoy our meal and discuss this later."

For a leg of lamb with vegetables had appeared on the table laid for two. The room was dimly lit with candles. Mordred couldn't help but wonder why she had gone to so much trouble. It was rare that she spoke to him about anything other than taking over Camelot. There was almost a non-existent chance that she had done this to please him, in return for his months of loyalty. He sat down in the chair across from her.

"So, how are you faring with your training?" She spoke in a conversational tone, but he sensed something burning beneath, something he could not fathom.

"Well, it is difficult, but since mastering my powers I have found it much easier."

"That's excellent news! How soon do you think you will be ready?" She leaned forward slightly, the pull of the material accentuating the voluptuous curves of her upper body. Mordred swallowed hard, and answered:

"A week, no more than double that."

She laughed again, standing as she did so. Mordred's eyes followed her as she moved slowly round the table towards him.

"And have you been taking any breaks, going on hunts? Recreational time is important you know." By now, she was standing no more than 3 feet away from the side of his chair.

"A little... uh, mostly by myself, as, uh..." He coloured and stammered as memories of hours spent alone in his room came to the forefront of his mind, his composure draining away in mere seconds.

"By yourself, I see... And have you been...lonely?" Morgana's smile was one of a lioness which had trapped her prey.

"Um, n-no, milady, it's just that there is little else to do here!" Mordred turned his face away from her, his cheeks flaming. Had he not, he might have noticed Morgana silently walking to the side of his chair and leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"Well, I can think of one thing that there is to do here, isn't that right, Mordred?"

Her hand ghosted up the length of the lean and corded arm, and across the muscular chest to gently turn his face back towards her. His eyes were closed, but she noted that his cheeks were bright and there was a hitch in his breathing.

"Well?"

His eyes flashed open, meeting hers in a battle of wills, to see who would withstand the tide of passion and angst between them. His flickered away first; she pressed her advantage. She had let go of his cheek, but her hands were resting on his shoulders. Morgana leaned in and Mordred could smell honeysuckle and lavender on her skin. She skimmed the length of his jaw with the tip of her nose, as if sampling his scent like a fine bottle of wine. Then she pressed her lips to his neck.

"Morgana!" Her name came off his lips in a gasp. "Please, stop, what are you doing?"

"I know you've wanted this for a long time."

"No, I-"

"Oh please! I see it in your eyes when you come before me, when you speak to me, there is longing in your voice."

Her whispered words sent a wisp of breath across Mordred's exposed neck, and he shivered, breathing heavily.

"But- But I don't understand why! Why now?"

"Hush, Mordred, trust me, you won't regret this."

She nipped at his Adam's Apple teasingly, before pulling away slightly and looking up through her lashes at him. Her own and Mordred's breathing were irregular. She pulled away entirely and pulled his chair out to face her. Morgana placed her hands on his shoulders again and leaned in. She stopped just before her lips touched his, and spoke softly, "I'm not doing this just for you, Mordred. I'm doing this for me as well." And with that, she kissed him, her lips moving more surely than his, their mouths moving in perfect synchronisation.