A/N: Thank you, as always, to reviewers! We've reached 50! :)


The scenery grows dull after a few hours, and the bickering has started to become more savage. Both of them are sore from the saddle despite being no strangers to this kind of extended trips. But neither wants to be the first to call for a rest.

As they pass Mercia's borders, Arthur pants, "Shouldn't you be having a rest, Morgana? Surely the pace isn't suitable for such a lady."

She snipes back, "I assure you, milord, I'm more than capable of continuing for much longer than this. But if you are tired, we could take a break."

Arthur pulls at the reins to bring his horse to an abrupt stop. Morgana goes on for a little more, then notices and turns back to him.

Morgana raises an eyebrow, and to that unspoken question Arthur replies, "I'm tired of this milord, your highness business. Call me Arthur."

Her eyebrow inches further up her forehead. "But milord,"-he grimaces at that-"that wouldn't be proper."

He blurts out, "You certainly didn't have any problem with it when you were drunk."

"What are you talking about?"

Arthur starts to realize that this might not have been the right thing to say, especially since she doesn't remember. But he forges on. "You called me just Arthur that night at the banquet for the peace treaty in Cornwall. You were drunk, and I had to drag you back to your chambers before you made a fool of yourself."

She frowns. "I don't recall any such…" Her eyes widen. "Don't tell me I…"

Arthur has no idea what she is going on about. "I don't know what you're thinking, but what happened was that you drank a lot, started to make obscene jokes, made me chase you around the courtyard, then I threatened to carry you to your chambers if you wouldn't go on your own. That was after everyone else had left." Then you kissed me on the cheek, he adds silently.

Morgana is visibly relieved. "That's it then?"

Arthur wants to know what she was so worried about, but he represses the question. He rolls his eyes. "Yes, that's it. But you were calling me Arthur the whole time. And we're going to have to work together on this quest. So- Arthur."

Morgana grins crookedly. "Fine. Just Arthur." She looks around. "Since we've stopped and all, why don't we just rest here? Being a king and all, I'm sure you're tired."

Arthur ignores the subtle taunt and accepts the decision. They break fast with bread and hard cheese, then stretch out on the meadow to rest awhile. There is a comfortable silence, then Morgana breaks it.

"You know we're probably both going to die on this quest, right?"

He rolls over to look at her. They are lying side by side on their cloaks, and the warmth of the sunlight is making him lethargic.

"Does that scare you?" he asks.

She meets his eyes. "Yes. Doesn't it scare you too?"

Arthur doesn't like the slightly heavy mood this is creating. "No. Why would I be? I understand you being frightened, being a lady and all."

Morgana doesn't take the bait. "I would have thought you'd be worried about the throne you're leaving empty. Merlin can only do so much, you know."

Arthur instantly grows sober. " I know. But I have to do this."

Another pause, and Morgana grins. "No need to worry, Arthur, my father would probably conquer Camelot and save your lords the trouble."

Arthur grins back. "Then I'd better get back alive. I-" He bolts up. "Did you hear something?"

She gets to her feet more slowly. "No, I didn't-" She frowns. There is the distinct sound of galloping horses, growing louder. She grabs his arm. "Where are we?"

Arthur squints out. "Near Mercia. I would say we're in the border woods in Escetia at the moment." Her eyes widen, and she pulls him towards the horses.

"We need to get out of here fast. I'd bet anything that's Mercia's patrols."

Arthur picks up both their cloaks and unties the reins. He fumbles with his knot, and by the time he undoes it, the first of the patrol is clearly visible over the hill. Morgana curses and leaps on her horse. Arthur follows. They are off and galloping away by the time the patrol sees them. Arthur is only thankful that he remembered to leave out any visible marks of Camelot; this would technically be a breach of borders and a cause for war. They make it to the forest, then Morgana shouts, "Can you still hear them?"

He yells back, "No! Should we keep going?"

She nods her head and they keep up their breakneck pace.

After a few hours of hard riding, they are both ready for a break. Morgana remarks that the horses are tiring, and it is Arthur who calls for a short rest in yet another meadow. They dismount and tie the reins to a nearby tree.

Arthur turns to Morgana to suggest that they find a stream when he hears a voice behind him saying, "Don't move. Who are you and what are you doing near King Cenred's borders?" He curses inwardly and tries to think up a good excuse. None come to him, and he is just about to turn around and start fighting when Morgana speaks.

"I'm so glad the border patrol is here," she simpers, " I was on my way to visiting my sister, but I got lost! And my escort here is an absolute dunce at everything. I thought I'd never find another person!" Arthur freezes from shock. Morgana never simpers. But then he realizes that it's a cover, and that she is acting. Feeling the men behind him relax, he slowly turns around to face them. Around five men, all mounted, surround him and Morgana. Sizing them up, he thinks he would be able to take them all out. When he surreptitiously reaches for his dagger, Morgana swats his hand away. He looks at her quizzically, and she shakes her head while still babbling on about their fictitious journey from a village.

The men point them in the direction of Cenred's castle and ride away to complete their circuit. Arthur gets ready to ride on, but Morgana starts off in the direction that they have just been given. He catches her reins as she rides past him.

"Where do you think you're going, Morgana? The isle of the Blessed is that way, if you remember," he quips.

She replies, "I'm doing what I said we were doing. I'm visiting my sister."

He drops her reins and frowns. "That's not what we're here to do. We don't have enough time."

Morgana raises an eyebrow. "Morgause would be able to help us. She'd give us supplies and better equip us to face this enemy."

"How would you know she would?" Arthur is skeptical.

"I'm her little sister. Of course she would," Morgana snaps, affronted.

"Listen, Morgana. I don't know how close you are to your sister, but that's no concern of mine. What is a concern is that this enemy has stated specifically for the two of us to go promptly. That means no visits and no tourist stops."

"And do we want to do exactly whatever this mysterious quest-giver says?"

Arthur ruffles his hair. "Yes, if that means we can stop the rampage of beasts. Let's go on, Morgana."

She huffs, "Fine, but if we run out of potions I'm blaming you."


They head out at a canter, neither talking to each other. The hours stretch on as the monotony grows heavy. Arthur grits his teeth and bears it in silence. The grassy woodland turns to gravel, and just when Morgana is about to doze off on her horse, Arthur speaks.

"For the love of Camelot, get down from that horse already. There's no point riding on if you can't even stay awake."

Morgana rubs her bleary eyes. "I can still,"-yawn- "keep on going. It's just getting dark is all."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "You're falling asleep on the horse. I'd rather not have to explain to your father that you cracked your skull because you rolled off the horse in your sleep."

She is too tired to argue. "Fine then. Let's set up camp."

Both are experienced woodsmen; While Arthur looks for firewood, Morgana casts the necessary wards and makes a rough hearth. She prepares the bread and cheese, which they are increasingly getting tired of, while Arthur starts the fire. The night is chilly, and both of them crouch around the fire to keep warm. Morgana only nibbles at her bread. Arthur notices.

"The fare doesn't agree with you, Morgana? I'm afraid there's no wine or pastries here."

She manages a half-hearted smile. " I wouldn't be so sure, Arthur." She reaches into her bags and brings out a wineskin. She shakes it at him. "What was that about no wine?"

He snatches it from her and takes a mouthful. It isn't quite yet bitter, but it is not too good either. In any case, it makes him feel pleasantly warm. "I've had better."

She takes it back and takes a gulp herself. "But it helps."

Arthur stares at the fire moodily. The shifting shadows dance on the space illuminated by the fire. Morgana is tracing patterns on the ground, knees drawn to her chest and head cradled on it.

He looks at her. "What do you think...we'll find when we get there?"

She doesn't raise her head. "I don't know what to think."

"Surely you must have some idea."

Morgana's voice is a little muffled. "There shouldn't be anything dangerous in the Isles of the Blessed. It forbids such things. Only the high priests and priestesses and those that they allow are allowed full entry. Even then, some don't make it across. Maybe our enemy is such a person, powerful enough to command the isle."

Arthur shakes his head. "I doubt it. High priests and priestesses haven't been seen for over ten years. And they shouldn't be hostile towards Cornwall at least."

Morgana sighs, "I can't help thinking there's something bigger going on than just a monster rampage commanded by one enemy."

He chuckles. "A king and a Crown Princess is on a quest to the Blessed Isles to stop a terrifying enemy. What could be bigger than that?"

She swats him with her hand. "You're impossible."

He smirks. "And you as well, my lady."

When the embers die down, both Morgana and Arthur settle into their bedrolls. Though Morgana falls into deep slumber almost immediately, Arthur tosses and turns for a long time, in no way helped by the feminine presence less than a meter from him. When he finally does fall asleep, his dreams are full of red lips and long hair and a harsh, cackling laughter that sends shivers up his spine.


The next day, they head off at dawn once more. It is another hard day of riding, and neither of them want to rest, lest they be tempted to stay. When they finally stop, the slight breeze over the lake tugs at their hair. Over the drop of the hill they can see the endless horizon melding into the forest. They dismount and stand in silence, watching the serene waves lapping on the shore.

Morgana sweeps her hair back again. "Well?"

Arthur replies, "I guess this is it." He idly fiddles with the knot on his shirt laces- he has decided that if he's going to cross the ocean on whatever is going to be waiting for him there, he would rather not do so wearing iron chainmail. They both look like peasants, Morgana with her braided hair and common clothes, and Arthur in a simple shirt and breeches as well. They have both refreshed themselves in a nearby stream an hour back, and so are both relatively clean. Morgana shivers a little.

"It's...colder than I thought."

Arthur looks over at her. "We'd better send the horses back. If you would?"

She pats the two steeds on the nose, and her eyes flash dim yellow. The horses snuffle, then turn and gallop back the way they came.

Morgana sighs. "I guess we need to go on?" She looks out into the ocean.

Arthur surprises himself saying, "No. We can stay a little longer." Morgana breaks out into a smile.

"A little longer here then."

He takes off his boots, rolls his breeches up, and wades in. Morgana's eyes widen. He looks at her.

"Well? You coming in?"

She hurries to do the same. "You know, Arthur, this is the best idea you've had in a while. I was beginning to lose all hope."

He smiles, then scoops some water up and splashes it at her. She splutters and shakes her head.

"You'll regret ever doing that." She whispers a word and an orb of water rises from lake and hurls itself at Arthur's head. He ducks.

Morgana laughs at the look on his face when the orb comes back and splashes the back of his head. His hand comes up to feel the water dripping off. Then he smiles and lunges at Morgana.

Before he can catch her, Morgana waves him away and splashes out of the water.

"If we're going to stay here, let's enjoy ourselves fully." She takes off her tunic and shakes out the knee-length shift that had been tucked into her breeches. Arthur can feel his face heating up as he tries not to stare. She raises an eyebrow.

"Be a gentleman and turn around, would you?"

He obliges, more to hide his reddening face than anything else. He can hear her taking off her breeches and then splash into the sea. He turns around.

Her hair is streaming around her, and her eyes are dancing. "Well? Aren't you coming in?"

He flushes again. "Fine." He strips to his underclothes quickly and wades in.

"For the love of Camelot, it's cold!"

She rolls his eyes and says, "Yes, Arthur. It's cold. Enjoy it while you can." She splashes him, laughing.

"I bet I'm better at swimming than you are," Arthur grins.

She replies, "You better prove it," and splashes him. He decides to forego swimming for showing her how superior he was at splashing. They go on for a while, until both are soaked to the bone. Arthur treads water while Morgana leans back and floats.

"I can die happy knowing I've swum one last time," She murmurs. He stares quizzically.

"Is it really that important?"

"Well, it was fun. Wasn't it?"

She laughs and swims out deeper into the lake; her white shift billows around her. Arthur is just about to follow her when he sees something dark surfacing near where she has gone.

"Morgana!"

She turns just in time to see the monstrous creature loom above her. She shrieks and tries to swim back. The creature snarls and whips one giant paw at her, sending her flying out of the water and landing heavily back in the shallows. Arthur curses, stumbling out and trying to reach his dagger. Morgana's eyes flash yellow, but it has no visible effect. As they both brace themselves for another onslaught, the monster does something completely unexpected- it sinks back into the depths from whence it came, until there is not even a shadow of it visible. They both sink down to the sandy shores, relieved. Morgana breathes heavily from the shock.

"I guess we better get started." Arthur is not willing to take any more chances.

She nods shakily. "I suppose we must." They dress silently, turning away from each other to give at least a semblance of privacy. When both of them are ready, they turn back and look towards the deceptively serene lake. There seems to be no way to reach the island past the mists.

After a full fifteen minutes of watching, Morgana quirks her head. "I assumed there would be some kind of boat-thing here to help us."

Arthur frowns, "Merlin said there was a boat that took him to the Isle. But apparently our quest-giver forgot to arrange transportation. Lovely."

They sit down and stare out at the lake for another fifteen minutes in silence. When the boredom gets unbearable, Morgana starts throwing pebbles into the lake. Arthur tries to stop her. "We don't want to wake that thing again."

She sighs, tosses one last stone in, and gets up. "Maybe there's something we have to do? Perhaps a secret code." She taps her foot thoughtfully and looks hopefully at the empty waters. "Open sesame?"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Nice going, Morgana. Of course it would be that. Perhaps we should just go back and build a boat."

She huffs in frustration. "I don't see you doing anything here."

He looks out again, then has an idea. "Morgana, give me any of your jewels. Something small."

She rummages in her bags and comes up with a small jeweled pin. "Will this do?"

He takes aim and tosses it into the waters. Morgana jumps up indignantly, but he shushes her and waits.

Just when Arthur's hopes are about to be deflated, Morgana points at the far end of the lake. A tiny dot grows bigger until it is in the shape of a rickety barge.

It reaches the shore and stills on the edge of the water.

They stare at it for a few minutes more, hardly breathing. When nothing jumps out and attempts to kill them, Morgana slinks toward it and look in. Arthur follows her.

She turns to him. "Do you think this is a trap?"

He replies, "I wouldn't know. There could be something waiting for us in the island; but isn't that what we came for?"

Morgana mutters something along the lines of, "I was talking about whether the boat's going to capsize and drown us both, but never mind." He ignores her and climbs in.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Do you even know how to board, Arthur? We need to push the boat off." She straddles the side of the boat and kicks off from the ground, pushing the boat into deeper waters. There is no paddle on board, and she frowns. But as Arthur settles down and Morgana gets comfortable, the boat directs itself right into the mists, and Morgana says, "The boat must be enchanted. Wherever it's going, it's taking us right to where our little quest-giver wants us. " Arthur gives a grunt, alert and on the lookout for sea monsters.

They are soon at the middle of the lake, where the mists are thick and Arthur can barely see past his own nose. Morgana is a shadow in the fog and for some reason that terrifies him. He reaches out and grabs onto her shoulder. As they continue on, he keeps his hand there, making sure she's still with him.

Eventually they can see a dark shape coming closer into focus. The mists part, and Arthur hears Morgana's sharp intake of breath at the magnificence of the island. There seems to be an entire citadel there, abandoned in its eerie stateliness. Arthur peers at it in an effort to make out its features; he sees that one structure in particular is prominent- Morgana whispers, "The temple."

The barge comes to a jolting stop on the shore of the island. Arthur carefully steps off, followed by Morgana. They are close to this temple, and Arthur can see that the quest-giver has meant to guide them here. He looks at Morgana.

"Well?"

She squints. "It's probably a trap."

"And?" He motions for her to go on.

She smiles. "We'd better get on with it."

He grins and they stride towards the ruins together.