Chapter 2

Ten-year-old Morgana sat alone in her new lavish chambers, finding none of the pretty gowns in her wardrobe or the beautiful sparkling jewelries that overflowed the box on her vanity table comforting. Everything felt unfamiliar here, so cold and frightening. The King had told her she needed only to ask for whatever she wanted, but the only thing Morgana wanted was the only thing he couldn't give her.

She wanted her real father back. She wanted her mother with her. She wanted her family, her real family, not a stranger that she was now to call father and a pouty blonde brat for a brother. Morgana had taken one look at the Prince and decided he wasn't worth her time, and she hardly believed that he would prove her wrong. He'd grown up as the only child his entire life and was set to inherit the kingdom. He could only be an arrogant spoiled boy who wouldn't want her company any more than she wanted his.

She sighed and tried her best to suppress her tears, not wanting to be caught crying by the people in this strange place. Camelot looked pretty outside her window, though the view didn't soothe her sadness much. Her father had just passed away and she'd just come to terms about having to fend for herself from that point on. And then suddenly Uther decided to adopt her, and who was she to refuse such a generous offer from a king? Morgana knew deep down that she was lucky, that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, that she had a savior that would make sure she would always be looked after and would never want for anything. It all made sense logically, and yet her heart still couldn't feel the joy that she was supposed to be feeling.

She just missed the people she knew and loved and didn't want to be in this cold, unfamiliar room with its cold, beautiful trinkets that would never be enough to warm her heart. She would never feel loved again, she was sure of it. How could she? She'd lost every single person that mattered in her life. This was supposed to be her new life, but she scarcely believed that it would rival the happiness that she'd felt in her old life.

A soft knock on the door startled her and made her quickly wipe her eyes clear of the threatening tears as she stood up to greet her first guest.

"My Lady?" to her surprise, a young girl around her own age was standing there. She had darker skin, soft dark curls that formed ringlets around her face, and brown eyes. For all intents and purposes, she looked very common, and from the dress she was wearing Morgana deduced that she wasn't yet another royalty that she had yet to meet. The girl smiled uncertainly at her. "My name is Guinevere. May I come in?"

Her eyes shone of warmth and friendliness that for a moment made Morgana's fears and anxiety melt. "Of course," she nodded slowly, wondering what she was doing here exactly. Perhaps the King, knowing his son wouldn't be of much use to entertain her, had found someone else to befriend her?

"My mother works in the household of one of the knights here," Guinevere continued as she stepped inside. "So I get to wander around the palace a lot. Since you have no maidservant yet, the King has chosen me to be some sort of your handmaiden-in-training. Of course, I'm not nearly old enough yet, but…"

"I don't need a maidservant of my own," Morgana said quickly, horrified at the idea that this young girl was supposed to attend to her needs. "I'm sure I could share… with someone."

"No, no, like I said, I'm not nearly old enough yet," Guinevere smiled. "I'm just here to be, uh… your friend… for now," she said, then added hesitantly, "if you'd like to have me, that is."

Morgana looked at her for a moment, wondering if she did want a friend. She'd been so sure she didn't need or want one, now that everyone she knew in her life had been ripped away. But could she spend the rest of her life here with no one to talk to? No one to share her thoughts and feelings with? That seemed awfully lonely. She doubted she'd ever be able to do that with Uther, no matter how much he seemed to want to be her new father, and it was clearly a stupid thing to hope to form any kind of bond with Arthur.

And Guinevere looked so nice, so friendly, and Morgana sensed that she could learn to like her a lot. It didn't matter that she was the daughter of one of the maids and would probably grow up to be one herself someday; Morgana was only treated in such respect out of Uther's kindness too after all. She wasn't really the lady of the court, and even now the position still felt as if she was playing dress-up. "Okay," she said finally, an uncertain smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that very much, Guinevere."

Guinevere's face brightened and for a moment she was exuding such innocence that made Morgana almost felt as if she was back home where everything was safe and comfortable and she didn't need to worry about a thing or keep her manners. Where she could just be a little girl. "Call me Gwen," Guinevere said shyly, then moved closer to Morgana.

Morgana smiled more openly now and clasped Guinevere's hands. "It's very nice to meet you, Gwen."

Arthur walked toward the training field, swinging his short sword in a dark mood. As it turned out, his father hadn't overlooked his little escapade after all and had chided him properly after Morgana was sent to her chambers. Now he was to make up for the training that he missed earlier despite the fact that it was already in the late afternoon. This was usually his resting time, but according to the King, since he'd had that already, he shouldn't have a problem making up for his training now.

Why could his father never give him a break? He bet Morgana was lounging on her bed right now, playing with silly dolls and having the time of her life. Lucky girl. To be chosen as the King's ward was not a trivial thing. Uther must have really liked Gorlois, and for some reason felt responsible for his daughter's well-being. Arthur's father had chosen to give Morgana a new life that she otherwise wouldn't get to have, so Arthur hoped the girl was appreciating it for what it was worth. Because if she dared to take it for granted, he'd be the first person to make her see sense. He didn't give up being the only child so she could feel ungrateful and self-entitled.

But just when he was about to enter the field, he caught sight of her small figure—no longer in a dress but in a pair of pants much like his own—strolling toward the very same destination. Carrying a small sword of her own. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks; shocked. What was she doing? Here, dressed like that, carrying that sword? She couldn't possibly—

Morgana looked up and caught him staring at her. "Oh. Hi," she said shortly, again looking blasé about the fact that he was there. Arthur was getting really annoyed. He didn't meet girls often except for when he traveled into the lower town, but whenever he did he'd always been met by admiring looks and shy glances from all around. He was a good-looking boy and he was very aware of it. And here stood a girl who not only could see that, but also knew he was the Crown Prince and future king of this land, and she just kept dismissing him as if he was nothing! It was infuriating.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded of her.

Morgana kept walking ahead, not even bothering to look at him as she replied, "What does it look like? Sword training."

Arthur was just pondering the need to teach this girl manners when speaking to the Prince when he heard what she said and let out a surprised laugh laced with disbelief. "What? Sword training? You?"

Finally Morgana turned around and narrowed her eyes at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Arthur looked at her as if she was asking a dumb question. "You're a girl."

"So?" Morgana challenged defiantly, and for a moment Arthur found himself speechless.

"Girls don't need to learn how to handle a sword! You're probably helpless at it, anyway," he scoffed.

Morgana eyed him with distaste for a while, but then something changed in her eyes. "Want to fight me?"

Arthur laughed out loud at that. "No way. My father will kill me for injuring the girl he just made his ward."

"Why are you so sure that you'd be the one injuring me? I daresay I'm much better with a sword than you are."

"That's preposterous!" Arthur was really annoyed now. "You may be older than me, but I've been trained with a sword since as soon as I could hold one."

"So have I," Morgana shrugged. "And that means I have two years' advantage. I guess it's not a very fair match, after all."

"Okay, that's it," Arthur stomped his boot on the grass, then regretted how childish it looked a second later. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tried to look taller than he was. "I'm not going to hold back, and you can't blame me when you run crying to my father's arms once I'm done with you."

"Deal," Morgana said without hesitation, her eyes glinting with delight. "But if I win, I get to tell your father I beat you."

Arthur hesitated, but only for a moment. What were the odds of this girl being a better sword fighter than he was? Zero. He'd win this match easy and finally get to put her in her place. "Fine. Let's do it, then."

There were only four or five knights scattered around the training field, and they all looked on with interest as Arthur and Morgana walked into it brandishing their little swords. They were just blunt, light swords that wouldn't really hurt either of them, but the two of them still provided quite a bit of entertainment for the intrigued onlookers. It was Morgana's first day as the king's ward, and she'd already roped the young Prince into a duel.

The two of them took their stances, for a long moment just eying each other as they slowly walked in a circle. Then, probably sensing that Arthur was still too stubborn to make the first move, Morgana stroke first, causing a look of surprise on Arthur's face, yet he managed to block the blow at the last second. The two of them continued to parry each other's blows for a while, neither succeeding more than the other.

Arthur did have to admit that Morgana was skilled with her sword, and the way she fought was definitely not something he expected at all. She was quick on her feet and sometimes he only barely managed to block her attacks. Still, the moment he regained his concentration and overcame his surprise, he found himself back in familiar ground and his body knew what to do even before his mind decided. The reverberating clangs of their swords filled the air for a long while, then suddenly Arthur found an opening and, grinning with early victory, made a break for it.

Morgana leaped away a second too late and lost her footing, and she found herself sprawled on her back on the ground with Arthur smiling gleefully above her. A second later, the world suddenly turned upside down as Morgana swept Arthur off his feet with a deft kick and it was his turn to feel all the air knocked out of him, and suddenly he was gasping at the blue sky.

And then the tip of Morgana's sword was pressed to his throat, and he stared at her in disbelief. Somehow, she'd gotten back to her feet in lightning speed and was now standing above him with a satisfied smile. She'd won.

He couldn't believe it. She had won! How was that even possible?

Morgana laughed a little at Arthur's bewildered expression and pulled the sword back. "Guess it's time to tell your father you just got beaten by a girl." Then she walked off without waiting for him to react, and Arthur felt as if all the emotions assaulting him at that moment—utter embarrassment, fury, envy, desire for revenge, and a little bit of admiration—were more than enough to keep him pinned to the ground.

He couldn't get up for a long time, and he was still there long after Morgana's lithe figure disappeared from his line of sight.