Title: Morgana's Favor, Part 1 of 2

Author: canon_balls

Spoilers: None

Genre: Romance, slight AU (could happen after or during S1, but like me, it maintains that the train wreck that is S2 does not exist, so really it is AU)

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the BBC/NBC show Merlin, and I make nothing from writing about it either. Suing me would be silly, as all you would get is a very grumpy King.

A/N: This is a sequel to Arthur's Coat. I hadn't intended to write one, but because of your requests – and you know who you are – it exists. This is for all of you lovely people (and Happy Birthday, Kreuse!).

Summary: Now that Arthur's coat and some significant looks have been exchanged, all that's left is to show your favor…..

Written first in Arthur's POV, then Morgana's


{{{{Arthur}}}}

I wasn't quite sure what I was doing in the corridor leading up to Morgana's room. I couldn't seem to work up the courage to go up and knock on her door, and honestly, that annoyed me to no end. Eight years ago, I would have already been in there, leaving a frog in her bed. Eight months ago, I would have been in there, complaining about the short leash my father kept me on. Eight weeks ago, I would have avoided this part of the castle entirely, trying to figure out my complicated and new feelings of desire for her. And eight days ago, I would have been in my chambers, imagining her naked in hers, but knowing it would always remain a fantasy.

But eight hours ago, she stood beside me in the courtyard, her delicate nose buried in my coat, her mouth deliciously kicked up to one side, and when our eyes met, everything changed.

Changed how, I'm still trying to define. Did her smile mean she'd welcome me as a suitor? A husband? A lover? Did she know any more how to move forward than I did? It was clear to me now, as it was this morning, that those were the things I wanted to be to her, but did she feel the same? All these questions were driving me mad. I supposed if I walked up and knocked on her door, and we had an actual discussion about it, I'd probably have my answer. But I'd rather have Merlin yank my teeth out. One by one.

I was sure her smile meant that she wanted what I wanted. Unless she'd changed her mind. Or I'd misread her. She didn't appear at the evening meal, which I didn't know how to interpret. She could have had a change of heart. Already. In which case, she'd either laugh at me, or enrage me, and either one held little appeal.

So I stood in the corridor. Like a frozen rabbit, unable to do anything. Brilliant. I am an idiot. Might as well tie a ridiculous scarf around my neck and call me Merlin.

The door to Morgana's chambers opened suddenly, and I was somehow able to dart behind a stone column before anyone saw me.

"Good-night, my lady," I heard Gwen say before she came through the doorway, her arms carrying a basket laden with Morgana's clothes to be laundered in the morning. She shut the door, and thankfully went down the corridor the opposite direction from me, humming as she briskly turned a corner.

As she turned, however, I saw something fall off the pile of clothes in the basket. Something small fluttered to the stone floor. Glancing around cautiously to make sure I was alone, I emerged from my hiding place and went to where the scrap of cloth lay. Bending over, I scooped it up and discovered it was – Good Lord, it was one of Morgana's garters.

Delicately embroidered in the colors of her house, the blue and purple threads wove in and out around pale pink roses. The ends of the garter fluttered with ribbons, and my foggy brain finally realized that this feminine frippery was recently tied around Morgana's slender calf. Hidden under her dress, it held her soft stockings to her silken skin. It had been where I longed to be.

I drew it up to my nose, and it discovered it still held a hint of her tea rose essence. It was a wonder I didn't come when I walked in the rose gardens of Camelot, that smell made me so tight with desire. I couldn't help rubbing the garter against the stubble of my cheek, enjoying the slight catching of it on my whiskers, and that gave me an idea. There was a way for me to find out exactly how Morgana felt about me, without having to have an excruciating conversation about it. A tournament was being held the next day, and I was competing in it. And if I had my way, I'd win more than just the prize in the ring.

Crushing the delicate material of the garter in my fist, I shoved it down the neck of my tunic, next to my heart, and went back down the corridor towards the wing of the castle where my rooms were located. I felt lighter than I had all day. I had a plan. I would have the advantage. She would have to dance to my tune and tell not only me, but all of the court, how she feels. A smirk spread across my face.

Tomorrow, my lady, you and I shall have a joust of our own. And I never lose.


{{{{Morgana}}}}

I was in bed, but I knew sleep would be a long time in coming, if it came at all. Which was nothing unusual for me – I rarely had a full night's sleep – but tonight the reason was not my troubling dreams.

It was my troubling heart.

Sighing, I rolled onto my side. Gwen had just left. I'd pretended fatigue so that she wouldn't linger. I needed to be alone with my thoughts, to process the day. Though truthfully, I was afraid of making more out of what happened in the courtyard than what actually happened.

And what did actually happen? Other than Arthur catching me smelling and rubbing his coat like some cat in heat. I let out a disgusted breath. Sometimes I was too stupid to live.

Yet Arthur didn't seem to mind. Not one to pass up an opportunity to tease or chastise me, he had done neither. He had, really, looked at me with scorching eyes, and a wicked grin.

Hadn't he?

I wished we'd had a chance to talk. Right after Uther's speech, we'd had to join the court for the noon meal in the great hall, and Arthur had immediately escaped afterward to practice with his knights for the rest of the afternoon. Feeling rejected, I had pleaded a headache and retreated to my rooms so I could avoid the evening meal. If Arthur hadn't wanted to see me all day, I didn't want to force myself on him that night. Yet he'd seemed so – I don't know – interested in me, in the same way I was interested in him when our eyes met over the collar of his coat. The same way I'd been interested in him since I was twelve. Had I really been waiting that long for him to love me in return?

Bother it.

I punched my pillow, imaging it was Arthur's stubborn head. It was driving me crazy, not knowing what his feelings were. Before this morning, I'd known. To him, I was his father's ward, and his playmate. I was his sister and his friend. But now – what was I?

I was insane, that's what I was. My desire for Arthur, for the sculpted muscles of his chest, for the musky notes of his scent, for the deep rumble of his voice as he murmured my name, had finally driven me mad. Wonderful.

The very least he could do was share in my madness. If I was going to suffer in misery, then by God, he was too. I needed a plan. He would admit he had feelings for me if I had to run him through with his own lance.

Then I remembered the tournament tomorrow. My lips curled up into a devious bow. Perfect. My idea was perfect. I worked out the details in my head, and knew it could work. I'd need Merlin's help, but that was easily arranged. Arthur was going down. He would declare himself for me, in front of everyone, or I would cut off his stones and have them for my prize.

Tomorrow, my lord, I shall take aim at your heart, and my sword will strike true.