I feared I wouldn't get this chapter out today, thus breaking my good streak, but no, I was determined, and finished it in time. Woot! I felt especially motivated by the wonderful reviews I received, proof that they are worth it. I hope you enjoy this next slither of angst.
Title: The Art of Seduction (As taught by Gwen and Morgana)
Chapter Title: Starting Small
Rating: T This chapter doesn't really deserve this rating, but hey, it fits in with the others this way. You wouldn't want it to be bullied.
Summary: Morgana fixes some things and makes others worse. She's not perfect.
Morgana, having lost all hope of catching up with her servant, moved quickly from the corridor by Gaius' rooms back to Arthur's chambers. The guard had changed and the new pair whose names she had never endeavoured to learn were familiar to the lady as notorious eavesdroppers and gossipers, but clearly their predecessors had passed on some words of wisdom regarding the events, as both stared resolutely ahead as Morgana swept through the doors.
Arthur was still there, as per her orders, but not as she had left him. Following their 'little talk' Arthur had spent several minutes sitting on his bed, staring at his shoes and muttering violently about how sensitive people could be. Now, however, he had clearly decided there were more constructive ways to take out his frustrations and was practicing his swordplay and looking every inch the determined soldier before a hard and long battle, which in a way, he was. As he landed blow after blow on the wooden figure, leaving a small pile of sawdust at its base, Morgana coughed irritably, annoyed that her entrance had been ignored, especially when she was the supposed saviour of the entire situation. She regretted her irritation moments later.
The Prince turned with his sword still raised above his head, but his determined expression melted into one of hope at the sight of Morgana and he sheathed his weapon without looking, a movement that would have left a less experienced fighter with a hole in his leg or at the very least a snapped belt and his trousers around his ankles. Arthur's eyes were wide and childlike in their expectation and Morgana felt herself break a little inside when she slowly shook her head. Even though it was Arthur's fault, she couldn't help but feel she'd failed somehow and a seed of determination sprung up in her, born of guilt and affection.
She would get Gwen on side, she had to, because Arthur was, well, Arthur, and Merlin had to forgive him. Otherwise… she didn't like to ponder the outcome, and whilst it was hardly going to be destruction on the scale her dreams sometimes reached, seer or not Morgana could tell there would be a lot of pain involved, most likely on both sides, Arthur because it was his own damn fault and because he liked Merlin and Merlin because he was too loyal and moral to be true. The boy, Morgana could tell, would eventually find some small fault of his own in the situation and agonise about it hopelessly. She just had to convince Gwen of it. Once that happened, well, the rest of the plan would follow on logically, or as logically as two emotional and biased females who were technically powerless in a patriarchal could manage.
"I'm sorry, Arthur. I spoke to Gwen, again, and he's not going to come back." Morgana stepped closer to Arthur and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Arthur, we knew that wouldn't happen. It can't be that easy. There are so many things that need doing – you need to wait for him to calm down, and then he needs to trust you, and you need to be his friend again... It's just this first part that feels awful, but you have to wait it out."
The man shrugged off her hand as a young boy bearing a tray entered silently, laid it on the table and left with a quick bow. He pulled the whole gesture off with the air of a frightened rabbit, and Morgana imagined him to be a kitchen boy who'd never visited the royal chambers before. Arthur glanced at the meal before slouching in the new chair, his feet on the table. The chair, incidentally, had been provided as soon as Arthur had let the guards know it was broken by flinging it at them in a small relapse into anger.
"So you didn't actually see Merlin?" The Prince seemed insufferably hopeful, his tone suggesting that if the words hadn't come straight from the horse's mouth it was therefore possible they were entirely untrue, conveniently ignoring the fact that Gwen was possibly closer to Merlin than anyone else. He had a knack for setting aside truths that didn't appeal to him. Morgana, however, was not to the type to allow this blatant indulgence, particularly when it could only lead to her friend's hopes being dashed again.
"Arthur." This gentle insistence was all that was needed to make Arthur sag down slightly as he acknowledged his folly. "Look, you need to get out of the castle, away from – away from everything. Go hunting, tomorrow, with your men. It'll do you good. Arthur? Promise me you'll go hunting tomorrow. I don't want you moping abut here, it won't help." The blonde mop rose and fell in assent, and Morgana turned, picking up Percival's shield and breeches with slight distaste as she moved to leave.
"Thank you, Morgana. For everything. And Percival."
The lady smiled grimly. "My pleasure, Arthur." Delivering clothing to Arthur's floozies had never topped her list of fun activities, but compared to the task she was faced with it seemed easy. Added to that was the fact that Morgana could hardly trust the task to Arthur, given his past record, and all in all it looked like a wise decision. She could only hope that the young knight would be reasonable.
"Eat something, go on, and try not to think about it too much." She opened the door, peering at him anxiously, before moving to leave. She knew that it was impossible for Arthur to look skinnier after only a few hours of torment, but from the way he was regarding his food, as despondently as a cow might her butchered brother, it wouldn't have surprised Morgana if the Prince had to get his tunics taken in before too long. And even though a week ago she might have said a little heartbreak could only do wonders for Arthur's character, seeing it was far worse than even she could have imagined, and she supposedly had the gift of prophesy.
As an afterthought, she turned back, adding carelessly, "Have you thought about getting a new servant?" The plate of food hit the floor with a crash, as did the shield. Cursing herself, Morgana rushed apologetically to Arthur as he buried his face in her shoulder, not crying, but closer to it than he had been all day. The two grasped each other for a few moments, Morgana muttering apologies and comforting sentiments all the way until Arthur broke away and, the picture of humility, began to clear up the mess he'd made.
Well, Morgana thought as she picked up the shield and breeches again, it's a start.
Sir Percival's quarters were in the draughtier West Wiing of the Castle and as Morgana arrived it became clear that the new knight's move from the North Tower, the freezing home of the trainees, had not yet been completed. Indeed, she was left for a full minute standing outside the room after her knock as a nervous voice clearly not used to being authoritative tried to decide where a bench should go. Eventually, to escape the decision, the knight opened the door, fully expecting a lowly servant with some message about sword practice. Percival's mouth fell open when instead he found the famous Lady Morgana leaning against the opposite wall.
Giving her most charming smile, Morgana silently nodded her head to the movers and with a few stammered words Percival had dismissed them and ushered Morgana in, leaving the unhappy bench upside down in the middle of the room. The room itself was small for a castle chamber, but comfortable and practical, as befitted the newest addition to the knights of Camelot. Besides the small matter of there being nowhere to sit, it was quite perfect.
"Sir Percival," Morgana began, turning to face the young knight, before she found herself interrupted. The young man was clearly not used to the direct nature of conversations amongst the nobility of Camelot, as he timidly inquired as to how he should address her. "Morgana. Call me Morgana. But, Sir Percival, whilst I also bring congratulations on your becoming a knight of Camelot, this is not purely a social visit. I must talk with you seriously."
The dark haired man nodded earnestly and, after Morgana made a slight gesture, came to his senses and righted the bench for her to sit on. With a grateful smile she accepted the seat and handed him the contents of her arms. "These are yours, I believe. You… misplaced them, I believe, last night. Or perhaps this morning." The youth blushed crimson and Morgana was struck by how much he did is that respect resemble Merlin. Yes, she could certainly see how her friend might use the boy, even unintentionally, subconsciously, as a practice.
Sir Percival was tall and of the same thin build as Merlin, and the crop of black hair was cut in a similar fashion, but the differences were more marked in Morgana's views than the similarities. Percival was clearly stronger than Merlin, and naturally so – he was the lean and strong type, rather than Merlin's weak foal-like frame. Percival's face bore all the marks of nobility that Merlin's lacked as well: the strong chin that Morgana could see in herself and Arthur's family, the remarkable nose and a brightness around the eyes that showed a lack of difficulty in life that peasants could not match, however optimistic.
The skin too was different, as Merlin's was almost ethereal in appearance while Percival was so much more real, his skin pale for lack of sun and a bad hangover rather than nature. The man was handsome too, where Merlin was – Morgana didn't like to think not, but she couldn't see much there, aside from the smile. But where Merlin was confident, even cheeky in his conversation, this man mumbled and glanced down, instinctively humble. It charmed Morgana, and she smiled at him, quite forgetting he was somewhat responsible for the mess they were all in.
"I assume you know where I discovered these items," Morgana continued and Percival nodded sheepishly. "I have to tell you that what happened between you and Prince Arthur, well, it cannot happen again. Do you understand why? You are now a knight under his command and he cannot risk such an attachment. It would only cause unhappiness." The lady paused, ready for protests, anger or even tears from the young man.
Instead, green eyes met hers with a rather bemused look. "Thank you, m'lday, I mean, Morgana, but I never expected – that is, I thought, I imagined that what occurred would not happen again. For those reasons you said, of course, you could not be more right, but also because, well, I considered it a drun- a misguided event, a mistake. I have only the greatest respect for Prince Arthur, but I did not imagine there to be anything more on either part." Morgana was amazed that such an apparently timid creature could be so bold and frank, and, taking in the news he imparted, she positively beamed at him.
So happy was she at the weight now lifted from her shoulders that Morgana quite forgot what she was meant to say next and stumbled slightly on her words. "Oh, well, that's, well – I can only say that Prince Arthur holds great respect for you too, and expects you to be high among his knights. He has told me of your strength and humility as a knight and his pride at your having joined his knights. He asked me to express his regret at having caused you any pain, but since this is not the case I'm sure he will be most pleased." Having finished satisfactorily, Morgana glanced at the young knight again.
Despite his declarations, she was still slightly surprised to find that, though he struggled against it with all the manners and good teaching that had no doubt been instilled in him over the years, Percival's eye-line had travelled from Morgana's face to a point several inches further down, and whilst Arthur would indubitably be outraged before performing exactly the same thing himself on the next girl to walk by, Morgana was only amused and flattered in the way she had been taught. Rising, she moved to leave.
"Thank you, Sir Percival, for your frankness and civility. You have taken a weight off my mind. My deepest congratulations are with you on your knighthood." She paused, considering, before deciding that the events could hardly become more convoluted without her contribution. After all, what harm could it do? She should have learnt by now that no good idea was justified by that sentiment. "I wonder if you would indulge me further? I have yet no one to sit beside me at the next banquet. As the latest to enter Camelot's knights would you give me the honour of your company?"
If Percival was shocked by Morgana's boldness, he hid it well. "I should be the one honoured, M'lady. Good night." Morgana left with a smile, glad that one issue had been dealt with.
"The bench looks lovely there, by the way, Sir Percival." He resolved never to move it.
Returning to her own chambers and feeling as if it had been years since she had last left them, Morgana found Gwen rearranging her hairbrushes. The servant looked up anxiously at her mistress, and darted forward, claiming the first words to pass with an urgency that spoke of hours of worrying. "My Lady, I must apologise for my words this afternoon. I spoke in haste and-"
"No, Gwen, I must apologise to you. My words about poor Merlin were unacceptable, however I meant them and as for-" Morgana's eyes were wide as she spoke quickly, grasping onto her hands and pleading for forgiveness from her one ally and friend other than Arthur in this matter.
"To talk of the Prince, your friend, in such vulgar terms was improper of me, and violated any-" Gwen shook her head and looked at her feet, the ceiling, the walls, anywhere Morgana was not, flushed with shame. Her voice was lower and stilted, her admissions coming freely and marred only by her own embarrassment and sorrow.
As both women realised they could not hear their own apologies for the others they slowed and stopped, hands still clasped desperately as they stared at one another, unsure as to how close they had come to breaking their bond. Eventually, amid the seriousness of it all, Morgana laughed and Gwen soon followed until they were shaking with mirth together. The idea of Gwen leaving her was so frightening, so unreal, that it was easier to ignore it with laughter than truly acknowledge it.
Even so, both soon stepped back, and Morgana held Gwen's gaze steadily. The trust she saw there was tentative, still shaken by the day's events and Morgana knew it, like everything else in the situation, was going to take time to heal. "We must not allow this to happen again. We must be stronger than them if we are to help them at all. Arthur is a fool – if I act like him you must stop me. I cannot lose a friend like you, Gwen. I know what it would do to me."
"And I am unforgiving. You must not let me become so single minded – I see only my own view. There is always another." Gwen nodded to herself, determined to change and looked up at her mistress, asking without asking to hear her side. The taller woman sighed and settled herself in the chair and Gwen picked up a hairbrush and began the routine, finding comfort in it as Morgana searched for words.
"In this case I fear there is not much of one. This is Arthur's fault, yes. I can only say that his intentions are good, and Merlin may have taken the wrong view of the events, though the right one is hardly any better. What does Merlin think, Gwen?" Morgana glanced at her servant in the mirror and the girl returned the look, a sadness appearing in her eyes as she remembered her friend's words.
"That he was convenient. A body to be used as the Pendragons see fit were his words, I believe." Gwen could not help the words sounding bitter, though she bit her lip in apology when she realised how harsh she sounded. The mere memory, conceived only hours before, brought a feeling of hatred in her stomach to whoever had made her friend feel so worthless.
Morgana sighed. "I feared as much. That is not true, I can say that definitely, Gwen, though I fear we cannot convince Merlin so. He must always take a negative view of himself and be convinced of it. Still… Gwen, what I tell you now was told to me in confidence. You must not tell anyone, especially Merlin. He would not believe it, but even so. It must not leave your lips." Morgana did not wait for Gwen's answer, trusting her implicitly. "Arthur feels for Merlin. Not loves, not yet, but cares for. Deeply."
"But he-"
"I know. Arthur can be very stupid."
"Oh. Yes. Yes, quite."
No more words were needed and Gwen completed her duties in silence. Only when she was leaving, her mistress prepared for and installed in bed, did Morgana break the quiet. "Arthur will be gone tomorrow. Hunting. So Merlin need not fear, well, chancing upon him. I was planning on attending the fair and wondered if, when you accompanied me, he might care to come along. As I said, Arthur will be gone, so…" The suggestion was tentative, as Morgana knew now from experience how fiercely defensive of Merlin Gwen could become at a moment's notice.
"I will ask him, my lady. Thank you." Gwen left with a small smile.
Morgana blew out the candles, swallowed a new tonic from Gaius and prayed for a dreamless sleep.
Funnily enough, neither Merlin nor Arthur appeared greatly in this chapter, it was more of a Morgana-ssey. But, next chapter I promise will be more exciting and contain actual physical contact between Merlin and Arthur! Yay!
Only RixxiSpooks got the extra fact about our guards, and for that she gets a trophy. And possibly any other prize I have to give, should she request it. Gawain and Gareth are members of the Round Table in the traditional tale. :) Well done for geekiness equal to mine!
Reviews are almost as good as Arthur/Merlin moments to a fangirl like me.
Thankies!