OK, so set between S3 and S4, Morgana is on the hunt for a new ally due to Morgause's illness. And she meets some unlikely applicants. Thank you for reading so far :)

The Lion, The Witch and the Consulting Criminal

Morgana scowled as she nailed another poster into a tree. Honestly, she was a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, sticking posters to things was not really her forte. But, of course, Morgause was far too ill to help. Not too ill to make nine hundred million posters, mind you. Ok, maybe a slight exaggeration, there might have been 10 posters. Morgana looked at the one left in her hand:

Wanted- One Evil Ally

Must be fearsome

Smirking ability preferred

Apply Hovel, Woods, Camelot (Down with Uther Pendragon!)

With a badly drawn picture of Morgana and Morgause (who, for some odd reason, was a lot better drawn and more detailed than the stick Morgana) sat in a hovel. Though what did she expect really, with Morgause drawing them?

The ebony haired woman sighed, leaning back against the tree before remembering the nail she'd just put there. This was all Morgause's doing, all her idea. Every day, she seemed to get weaker. Less of herself. Typical Morgause. She could beat Arthur in armed combat, Cenred in an arm wrestling competition, Morgana at anything (she hated breaking her nails, so always let her sister win) yet she was dying at the hand of an old man and a large eared manservant. And now, she had told Morgana to be on the hunt of a new ally. Hence the posters. And the leaflets. And the giant flag Morgana had magically stuck to the side of Camelot's citadel (though she'd left the address off that one. At least, she thought she had...) So far, the plan was working perfectly.

Though whether anyone would bother showing was an entirely different question...


She flung her head into her hands in despair. Complete and utter despair. It was half way through the interview day, and she had no-one. People had turned up, shockingly, surprisingly. Well, she said 'people'. That might have been too polite for some of them. Fat, stupid men who hadn't bathed for a year? They made Cenred look like a perfect gentleman. She really needed Morgause's help here, but she was sat in bed, snuggled under thick furs in the hovel while Morgana sat shivering in some rundown castle interviewing freaks. If it wasn't for the throne of Camelot, she'd have given up hours ago. Well, if it wasn't for Camelot, she supposed she wouldn't need an ally at all. Perseverance, Morgana, perseverance. Besides, she was only half way through the process, there could still be hope. Though, looking at them all, she wasn't sure...

'Ok, so name?' She asked, quill in hand as the first applicant sat down, head down as she prepared to write.

'Jim Moriarty. Hi.'

The sing-song voice forced her to look up. Not to mention the ridiculous name. Hmm, well first impressions were good. No visible, freaky disfigurements. Not stupidly overweight. A bit short but manageable.

'Well, name is good. All the best allies have 'Mor-' at the beginning. Your first name is much too short, though. Could we extend it? Or even change it? How does Aethelred sound to you?' The look on the man's face, however, was enough to convince her she needed to change the conversation. 'Fine, job description?'

'Consulting criminal.' Again, Morgana felt herself look up in confusion yet the man was still sat, face deadly serious, looking around the castle chamber in slight disgust. 'Must this take so long? It's all so boooring.'

The Witch scowled, biting back a snide remark. 'Preferred method of death?'

'Ah, here's a good question.' He clicked his fingers and, instantly, a red dot appeared on Morgana's forehead. 'I use sniper rifle. Don't like to get my hands dirty.'

She had been looking up in an attempt to see the dot, causing herself to look ever so slightly deranged, no more than usual however, when she stopped suddenly and frowned. 'Sni-per-rif-le? What's one of those when it's taking over Camelot?'

'A sniper rifle.' Moriarty repeated, as if expecting that would instantly clarify things, because repeating something the other person didn't know, always did that. 'You know, a rifle used by a sniper?'

'I have not got the slightest idea what you are on about.' Morgana shrugged. So is this what it felt like to be Arthur? Confused by everything? Poor guy. See, that was why she wanted the throne, to protect her poor brother's single brain cell, it might get crushed by the crown.

'I shoot people.'

'Ah, bow and arrow.' Morgana smiled before frowning once again. 'Well, that's rubbish. How do you expect to sneak into Camelot, kill all the guards and brutally murder Arthur and Uther while they sleep if all you have is a bow and arrow?'

Time for the Consulting Criminal to scowl now. 'You know what is rubbish? Your dress sense. Honestly, you look like some magic, High Priestess who has failed to take over a Kingdom and is now stuck in some hovel looking after her dying sister.'

'I am.'

He ignored her. 'You should try Westwood.'

'And then do what?'

'What?'

For a Consulting Criminal, this man seemed awfully stupid, Morgana thought. More stupid than Merlin, which was saying something. 'I should go to the West Wood and do what? Wear leaves?'

'No, Westwood.'

'Exactly, go to the West Wood…'

'No, Westwood is a designer.'

'Look, you make no sense,' Morgana said, finally too mentally worn out to bother anymore. It felt like the time she'd tried to play 'Hangman' with Morgause, and her sister had taken it a bit too literally. 'I have no idea what a sni-per-rif-le is, and if it's just a big bow and arrow, that'll be useless anyway. I don't know why you're trying to send me to the West Wood, maybe it's a secret plan to kill me, well I'm not that stupid. And altogether, your name is too short and you're really not very scary at all. So, could you please leave and send in the next applicant.'


'Erm…I'd love to ally with you, really I would.' Morgana finally felt herself stammer out as she stared at the thing opposite her. 'But, in reality, how useful are you going to be really? I mean, you're a giant eye.'


'I'm point blank not allying with a lion. I don't care how many scars you've got. How is a lion going to be able to sneak into Camelot and kill Uther for me anyway?'


The instant the next applicant walked in, Morgana sat up eagerly. Yes, so far so good. Long, black dress, same as her. Dark hair, same as her. Bright green skin…Ok, so it was an original look, at least. Not quite healthy though. Maybe she was part frog, that would be awfully unlucky though. And she thought being related to Uther was bad. Still, Morgana smiled, she had a good feeling about this one.

'Name?'

'The Wicked Witch of the West.' The green woman sat down casually, a broom in her hand. At Morgana's quizzical expression, she continued, 'Where do you keep your flying broomsticks, anyway? I couldn't find a rack for them and, seeing as you're a Witch, you must have some.'

'I am a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, and no, I cannot fly.'

The Wicked Witch's face fell. 'Oh goodness…I mean, oh wickedness, how unfortunate for you. And I thought being green was bad.'

'Never mind that.' Morgana sighed. 'Motives for an alliance with me?'

The Wicked Witch scowled, looking more toad-like now. 'Revenge. I wish to avenge the murder of my sister, the Wicked Witch of the East.'

Her thoughts flashed briefly back to her own sister, the no-longer very fearsome Morgause, who had stolen her bed and all her furs. At least she was still alive. Maybe Morgana should do something nice for her, draw her a picture or something, let her know she didn't really want her to die. No matter how many times she threatened it. 'I know how that feels, Wicked Witch.'

'Of the West. You have to be specific because my sister was Wicked Witch too, but only of the East.'

'What is it with directions in your family?'

'Just our names.' At that, the Witch pulled a compass out of the pocket and held it out for a few seconds. 'You'd have to be Wicked Witch of the South-East, is that alright for you?'

'I am a High Priestess, not a Witch…'

'And another thing, where do you keep your flying monkeys?'

This instantly stopped Morgana. 'My, my…what?'

'Your flying monkeys,' the Witch said casually. 'Please, tell me you have some of them. They are a Wicked Witch essential, really useful for kidnapping people. Also, it means there's always someone around to open a banana, if you're struggling.'

She couldn't take anymore. Flying monkeys? She didn't even quite know what a monkey was. 'NEXT!'


'Look, I don't even know what you are. How are you going to help me? What do you even do?'

'EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!'

'So, you're like pest control then?'


'I am the Dark Lord, you cannot refuse me!'

'You were beaten by a baby! A tiny little baby! And I thought being beaten by an annoying manservant was bad enough.'

'I have an army of Death Eaters.'

'And that's just a bit gross sounding.'


She sat, completely slumped at her table. Could today get any worse? In all honesty, no, it really couldn't. Even if Arthur burst in now wearing nothing but a hula skirt and arrested her, dragged her to Camelot and executed her through the pain of watching him dance for three hours, the day could not be any worse. She had no ally. How was that even possible? She was attractive, intelligent, had a super evil smirk, yet she had no-one. Maybe that was it though, she was just too good, no-one could live up to her.

Just then, the last applicant of the day walked in (bending down slightly due to ridiculously long helmet horns and a very short doorway) and Morgana looked up. Well, no funny coloured skin, no facial deformities, not stupidly short, completely human looking, he was ticking all the boxes so far.

'Name?'

'Loki, of Asgard.'

'Never heard of it.'

'And I'd never heard of Camelot, but here I am.'

'Reasons for alliance?'

'I wish to take the throne of Asgard from my brother and punish my father for his lies.'

'Hang on.' Morgana stopped. 'You aren't another illegitimate child of Uther, are you? Because, if so, that's my throne. I am technically the eldest and the best looking.'

'No, my father isn't even my father; he was just pretending to be.'

'Good.' Morgana ticked the 'Family Issues' box on her checklist. 'Preferred method of death?'

'Trickery and magic.'

'Well, it certainly beats a sni-per-rif-le,' she muttered. 'Have you ever heard of one of those?' At the shake of his head, she shrugged. 'Well, you've ticked all boxes so far. How will you help me to take over Camelot, then, and brutally murder all my remaining family in their beds?'

'Camelot? I thought you were helping me to take over Asgard?'

'No, why would I want Asgard?'

'We have a portal to reach other Worlds.'

'We have comfy beds.'

'We have a beautiful city in the sky, and are worshipped by men as Gods.'

'Well, we have comfy beds.'


Morgause was sat, snuggled under mountains of furs, casually setting random objects alight with her magic, as was her usual pastime, when Morgana finally stumbled back into the hovel. She was bent over, exhausted, the hem of her dress splattered with mud from the forest, soaked to the skin from the sudden downpour of rain only seconds ago and, without even asking, she climbed straight into the bed beside Morgause.

'I thought you said that was socially unacceptable, Morgana.'

'It is when you do it,' Morgana murmured while cuddling into her sister. 'I have the had the worst day, ever. Even worse than when you gave me food poisoning for two weeks by trying to cook me toast. Everyone who applied was a freak or, well, just a freak.'

'Then here's some good news. I've got you an ally.'

Morgana sat up suddenly. 'What?'

'While you were out, I sent out some letters and got you an ally.' Morgause shrugged. Honestly, here sister really overreacted to these things. Just because she was injured, did not mean she'd lost all her brain cells too. 'His name's Lord Agravaine DuBois. He's Arthur's Uncle.'

'I've never heard of him.'

'No, me neither. But he's stupid, hates Uther and is in love with you. Everything that a good ally needs to be. In fact, just look at him like a fat Cenred.'

'And you still made me go interview all those idiots? I am going to kill you, Morgause.' Morgana scowled, lying back down in the bed, arms folded dramatically, before she frowned suddenly. 'Oh, and why is half the hovel on fire?'

Next up, Arthur has an ingenious idea to catch traitors...