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.
I hope you like this chapter! Trigger warning for rape threats which is why the rating went up (King Ban to Morgana, not our precious Mergana don't worry). (I know, it was meant to be happy, I don't know what happened).
Five kings arriving in one day. Since the first light of the dawn crept into Camelot, Merlin has been awake, helping the other servants to prepare rooms, move furniture, and stable horses. Unfortunately, even though it's now dark, the day isn't over; it's Merlin's job to serve wine at the welcoming banquet, a task which he greets with limited enthusiasm.
As Merlin stands on the edge of the large hall where the banquet is to be held, stifling a yawn, he reflects that he hasn't heard at all from the lady Morgana since her request several days ago. He wonders bitterly if she has found somebody else to assist her; perhaps she no longer needs his help.
His attention is arrested by the arrival of the woman in question. The loudly chattering banquet hall becomes quiet as Morgana walks regally into the room, escorted by Uther Pendragon, the king. Morgana's dress is long and grey, an odd colour choice, but one that makes her look mysterious and alluring. The layered fabric sweeps the floor and above it she has placed a faded purple shawl which covers her shoulders, clinging about her arms.
Merlin cannot take his eyes off her, but - there's something forced about her manner. Her smile stiff and tired, as though it's been glued there. Merlin thinks how horrible it must be, to feel like little more than an object, a pretty thing to be ogled and stared at. A nice cut of meat, hanging ready for haggling over. He sympathises with her plight, wishing he could bring a real smile to her lips.
"Merlin, once again I must remind you that you are here to do your job. Not to stare at the lady Morgana," Gaius' stern voice breaks into Merlin's reverie. The older man shoves a metal tray crowded with goblets and a flag on of rich, crimson wine. "Here. Walk around the room with this, Kings are always thirsty for alcohol."
Merlin gives Gaius a smile full of affection, then takes the tray, ducks his head and begins to circulate the room.
Morgana looks tiredly out over the room filled with already drunk noblemen. Choosing her clothes for the night's festivities, she had pulled from her wardrobe an old grey day dress, with faded layers that made her look pale and washed out. Above it she had placed one of her oldest shawls, a purple one with worn away parts.
Her maid, Gwen had looked at her in consternation.
"How about your nice new green dress? That's lovely," she'd suggested.
But Morgana had shaken her head. "I don't want to look lovely tonight. I want to be colourless; every time these noble kings think of me, I want them to see a person devoid of life. Pale and ugly."
Gwen tutted. "You could never be ugly, whatever you wore. But I'll dress you in the grey, as you wish."
Now standing on Uther's arm, Morgana is forced to realise that her maid's prediction is true. She looks anything but ugly, if the arrested stares of most of the men and more than a few of the women is anything to judge by. Morgana forces back disgust as Uther whispers something in her ear; it's his fault, all of this. Still she forces a smile onto her lips, a horrid grin kept there through sheer force of will. It doesn't do to offend the king. Not when he has this much power over her life.
Morgana surveys the room, anxiously scanning for Merlin's face; she'll fight back against Uther's ultimatum, but it would be nice to count on Merlin's help. Her prospects never appear quite as bleak when she's with him.
Spotting the familiar red neckerchief on the far side of the room, Morgana excuses herself from Uther's presence and weaves through the graciously parting crowd to reach Merlin. Taking a goblet from his tray, she angles herself away from him, pretending to listen to King Pellinore's happy recounting of a particularly successful hunting trip.
"Don't look at me, just listen. Are you still willing to help me?" she whispers.
"Yes, of course," Merlin's voice is fervent. "What do you need me to do?"
Morgana hasn't really thought that far. "Just keep an eye on me? I'll find you if I need you," she tells him, and glides away smoothly.
As the collection of courtiers sit down to dinner, Morgana sees to her horror that she is to be seated beside King Ban - an odious man whose wandering hands are the stuff of court legends.
Uther notes her pinched face. "Is anything wrong, my dear?" he asks. Smiling innocently, almost as though, thinks Morgana, he doesn't know the pain his plans are causing her; how he's missed this she doesn't know: she feels she's made her displeasure well known.
"Nothing, my lord," she says politely, forcing another smile.
King Ban gives out a belching laugh beside her, then leans in close to her ear as Uther looks away. His breath smells like wine and danger. "'Nothing' has a very different meaning in my kingdom. Perhaps you have similar slang here?" he asks her.
Morgana looks at him, fighting the disgust in her voice as she answers, "No, my lord, I believe we must have a different culture to your kingdom."
He laughs again, his hand sliding up beside her leg. Morgana is grateful for the layers of grey cloth that separate them.
"Please leave me alone," she says, trying to keep her voice too low for Uther to hear her protestations.
"Later on I'd better give you a lesson in our, er, cultural differences. As you're to be my wife," Ban suggests nastily.
Morgana twists her lips, turning to her other side where King Lot is seated. "Does 'leave me alone' also have a different meaning in your kingdom?"
The ordeal is not anywhere near over. Again and again, King Ban's hands find a way to linger on her body. Touching her arms, leaning heavily on her leg as he reaches across her for more food. Underneath the table, his hand skims her crotch. His fingers find a small hole in the fabric of her skirts and Morgana flinches as his cold hands touch her thigh.
"Please don't touch me," she says, eyes sparking fire at him. She looks around the table, anxiously wishing Merlin was somewhere nearby, but she can't see him.
Ban laughs again, leaning in closer, now more than a little drunk. "Come on, my dear," he chuckles cruelly, "don't you have a little smooch for your future husband?"
He stops laughing as chilled wine soaks suddenly through his hair and the back of his tunic. His expletives at the chill are creative and loud. Morgana looks behind him to see Merlin quickly masking a gleeful grin, empty wine jug in his hand.
"I'm so, so sorry, my lord. I am so clumsy," he apologises quickly.
"Tell your fucking servant to get the fuck out of my fucking space," growls Ban, standing and storming away from the table to change.
"Merlin, you idiot." Arthur stands from his place opposite Morgana and rounds the table, grasping Merlin by the ear and dragging him away as the fuss dies down and conversation resumes. "Come back when you've learnt how to use your hands properly," Arthur orders the boy, who casts a quick, concerned glance to Morgana as he is pushed from the room.
'Are you okay?' he mouths at her.
She smiles at him, and nods. Now I am, thinks Morgana.
Merlin is hovering outside the doors to the great hall, reluctant to re-enter, when he sees Morgana burst through them. The evening has gone on, with a now dry King Ban returning even more intent on torturing the lady Morgana.
Her eyes as she pushes the doors aside have panic in them, which calms slightly as she sees Merlin standing there. She grasps at his wrists, pulling him a slight way down the hall.
"Merlin, thank god. Ban's coming after me. Help, Merlin he's going to do something to me, he's been groping me all evening."
"What do you want me to do?" Merlin asks alertly.
"I don't know. Help, I don't know what to do. He's coming!" she says in alarm as they hear the doors swing open.
Merlin's first thought is to hide her face so Ban can't see her. Drawing her into the shadows, he pulls her close to him and lifts her arms around his neck.
"Here, pretend we're just servants overcome in the middle of the banquet." he says in low voice. "You don't have to kiss me, just put your face somewhere close -"
His sentence is broken as Morgana, heart beating fast from adrenaline and the usual electrical jolt of being close to Merlin, places her lips tentatively against his. For a moment, all else is forgotten in the perfection of the contact. Morgana can think of nothing but getting more of this, what she's wanted for so long. She pulls her arms tighter about his neck, dragging his head closer in to hers. She doesn't want this to stop.
"Well, well, well," comes Ban's nasty voice from behind them. They pull apart, Morgana flushed but made brave by Merlin's touch.
"King Ban," she acknowledges.
"Tasting the wares, my lady? Doing what you refused for me?" Ban's voice has all the ugliness of unwashed grime. It is ripe with rot. "Shall I go and tell Uther what his little princess has been getting up to?"
"Please do. I'd be only too happy to return the favour and tell him all about your groping hands," she returns coolly. Checkmate.
Ban grinds his teeth audibly. "When you are my wife behaviour like this would be punished with a public flogging," he hisses.
"How lucky for both of us that I have no intention of ever becoming your wife," Morgana says.
"You have little choice. It is all but agreed. I will chain you to the marriage bed if you disobey me, I will have you flogged if I catch you satisfying your wanton desires with serving boys, I will do what I like with you...my lady," Ban licks his greasy lips, visibly aroused by the image of her chained and flogged.
Merlin makes to move from behind her, but Morgana stops him with a lifted hand. This is a battle she wants to fight herself. Stepping forward, Morgana tips her head to the side, considering. "I'm sure you would. But only if you caught me," she agrees, "I assure you, my lord, that I am very adept at not being caught."
"Then perhaps I would need to chain you until you were broken enough not to try."
"Perhaps. But, my lord, even then, after what you've seen...could you ever really trust me?" her voice hardens. "Does 'I'm already taken' have a different meaning in your kingdom to mine?"
Morgana looks tall and unafraid, torches striking light against her, giving the appearance of a battle hardened face, "You'd always wonder, wouldn't you? Who my thoughts were really with? If I was ever, really broken, or if I was just pretending? Do you think you could trust me?"
Ban hisses, angry at her and her ability to say things that differed from his own desires. "You're a slut."
"A slut who doesn't belong to you," Morgana says in a deadly tone which precludes argument.
"My lady, I am breaking all deals with your guardian. I wouldn't such marry a wanton scarlet woman as you if you were the only woman left on this earth," Ban growls.
"How nice to know we feel the same way about each other," Morgana smiles, knowing she has won.
Ban takes a threatening step towards her. "But before I go there are some things I'd like to do to you. There are ways I could punish a slut like you. I could ensure you wouldn't walk again for weeks." He reaches for her, fingers already gripped tightly enough to bruise her skin through her clothing.
Morgana steps back and says without flinching, "There are things I could do to you, King Ban, that would ensure you wouldn't walk ever again in your life." She looks straight at him, a vicious staring contest that neither is willing to lose: her autonomy hangs, briefly, in the balance. Ban is the first to look away.
"I will have your horses made ready for you to ride home at first light," Morgana notes, a cool triumph in her voice.
Ban turns away, face purple with anger and hands clenched tightly at his sides. "Tomorrow isn't soon enough," he growls, as he storms away from her, down the hall.
Morgana stands still, staring after his retreating back, momentarily unable to move. She feels that his ugliness has infected her. Her victory a hollow one against the memory of his hands on her. She takes a deep breath. But she has won. Oh, how she has won.
Merlin's hand touches her arm gently.
"You were brilliant," he tells her proudly.
She gives him a tired smile. "One down," she says.
Merlin takes her hand and squeezes it shyly. He looks down at her, her brave, exhausted features. The feelings of triumph mixed up with violation that he can hear in her voice. He tells her what she needs to hear.
"We'll get rid of these kings who want to claim you. We'll do it together."