"Gwen," Morgana said, seemingly out of the blue, "is it just me, or are Arthur and Merlin behaving very... oddly."
She pulled her lips into a darling smile, playing her part as Uther's ward and leaving more than one man at the feast staring dazedly in her direction, before turning her gaze to her handmaiden.
Gwen fidgeted guiltily under her stare.
From that alone, she could discern that Gwen knew more about this than she'd shared, and Morgana's amused smile only grew wider. She turned away again, feigning disinterest in the conversation and giving Gwen a chance to consider her answer. In the meantime, she offered a coy smirk to a passing handsome knight - Sir Cadogan, if memory served.
It was late evening, and she was smiling through the king's feast, in honour of the recent knighting of Lord Godwyn's son, Uther's longtime ally. The arrival of Lord Godwyn was always a cause for celebration, and the knighting of his heir cause for a lavish one.
Naturally Arthur attended, as per Uther's request-nay-command. The real curiosity at all was the fact that he'd tried to get out of it. He normally enjoyed such feasts, not the least because he could dress Merlin up ridiculously, and tease him in a place where a servant most definitely could not talk back.
Yet to Morgana's intriguement, and admittedly sadistic delight (and perhaps slightest worry), Arthur looked positively miserable.
He appeared to be trying to catch Merlin's eye, but instead of a wink, glare, eye-roll, or whatever whimsical reaction the boy typically offered at occasions such as these, his servant stared stonily ahead.
From the looks of it, they appeared to be fighting; or rather, Merlin appeared to be giving Arthur the cold shoulder. It was a grave contrast to the previous week, in which they'd been smiling and whispering and appearing closer than ever.
It presented quite the mystery.
Morgana would admit to more than a little amusement at Arthur's distress. That, however, didn't detract from the flicker of anger simmering beneath her mirth at the thought of what Arthur could have possibly done. Merlin was a dear friend and deserved better than Arthur's pigheaded nonsense. If Merlin was angry, it was likely justified, and depending on how cruel Arthur had been, she might have to pay the prince a visit.
"What did Arthur do this time?" Morgana asked, sending Gwen a glance.
Her handmaiden returned her look, pursing her lips, before sighing. "It's rather complicated, my Lady," she told her, topping her glass with wine.
"Sounds fascinating," Morgana replied, and despite her sincerity, her tone held a slight mocking lilt. Arthur's predicaments were always interesting, much in the same way as watching a child set fire to his own room might be. Gwen's lips quirked unwillingly at her insinuation; that was why Morgana liked Gwen, always so perceptive. "Tell me more."
"Well," Gwen said slowly, eying the Arthur and Merlin cautiously. She'd been anxiously watching the pair earlier; it had been what originally drew Morgana's gaze to their table in the first place. "Arthur didn't take Merin's feelings on a subject with due consideration, and now Merlin is rather … upset."
"Arthur has a way of dismissing the feelings of those around them," Morgana said sourly. The last of her diversion died with a flare of bitterness as she recalled him laughing in the face of her nightmares.
"Well," Gwen said again, helplessly, but she could say nothing to deny it, so she fell silent once more.
Morgana smirked vindictively, and then urged the conversation along.
"What was it, then? You know I'll find out if you don't tell me," Morgana persisted, and it was true. Gwen knew it too.
She sighed in resignation.
"Arthur might have, um, assumed that Merlin was in love with him, without Merlin ever suggesting such a thing himself," she said faintly, and just a bit rushed.
Morgana narrowed her eyes. This was sounding more and more familiar by the second; she could still recall the times Arthur had accused her of fabricating her nightmares, and for presuming she only disliked Sophia out of jealousy and a supposed crush on him.
Her rage fluctuated, unconsciously forcing her hand to clench her cup so tightly that it trembled in her grip, and her drink spilled over the rim. With a distinct coldness, she watched as wine dribbled down her wrist in red rivulets, before carefully calming her temper.
"Yes, that would do it," she agreed darkly, even while she kept a smile plastered on her face for the sake of Uther's courtiers. At least with Gwen, she could show the smallest bit of what she truly felt.
"Hmm," Gwen agreed non-committedly, wincing.
"There's more?" Morgana asked in surprise.
Gwen bit her lip. "It's not really my place to say, my Lady."
"Really," Morgana murmured, portraying nothing but polite regard.
Wiling information out of Gwen had grown more challenging over the years, but she had yet to fail. Any hesitation she'd felt at pressing Gwen for answers had quelled in the onslaught of fury she felt on Merlin's behalf. Her worry for Arthur faded quickly in the face of the vicious satisfaction she found in his misery, considering this was likely all Arthur's own fault anyway.
"Well," Morgana began carefully, slowly forming possible ways to garner the information she wanted. "Merlin doubtlessly has developed a thick skin to deal with Arthur's thick-headedness, so that alone probably wouldn't have been enough to get him quite this angry."
She watched Gwen for clues, smiling beatifically as the girl squirmed. Normally she didn't enjoy making Gwen so uneasy, not when they'd been friends for such a long time, but Morgana's desire to know won out, and Gwen knew better than to keep such things from her.
"So he must have humiliated Merlin somehow," Morgana continued musing out loud, fingers tapping elegantly on her glass. Gwen squirmed some more, but didn't respond. Morgana pressed steadily on. "Perhaps he called out Merlin's affections in front of Uther's court?"
"Arthur wouldn't do such a thing," Gwen blurted out, appalled. She then quickly bit her lip, but it was too late; inspiration had struck, and Morgana suddenly knew exactly how to procure her answers.
"I daresay he would," she declared with faux certainty, even if she felt no such thing in truth. She hadn't heard any rumors of the like whispered within the castle walls, and she doubted that even Arthur would be so crass. It certainly served to agitate Gwen, however, and that was what she was aiming for. "I daresay he would announce it to all of his knights, so they could all have a merry laugh at poor Merlin's expense."
"Arthur didn't mean to hurt him," Gwen insisted defensively, before adding a quick, "Excuse me, my Lady," to fix her tone when she caught Morgana studying her from the corner of her eye.
So whatever it was that Arthur had done, Gwen had forgiven him. Some of Morgana's anger towards Arthur dulled for her sake, and she supposed the prince did look rather miserable, so perhaps he was already receiving his own form of penance.
"Not at all," Morgana answered graciously. Despite her calming temper, she maintained a careful level of disgust in her tone to keep up her act. "Arthur rarely means harm, but that doesn't keep him from being an insensitive, intolerable pillock at the best of times."
After a deliberate pause, Morgana spoke up again, as if struck by sudden inspiration, continuing her game. "Oh, I know what happened."
"My Lady?"
"Perhaps Arthur didn't tell his fellow knights at all," she continued. She didn't truly believing her own train of thought herself, but was steadily enjoying the fabrication of the story instead. It was rather amusing, casting Arthur in such a shameful light. "Perhaps a lovely town girl had her sights set on Merlin, but Arthur thoughtfully informed her that she stood no chance, because Merlin was madly in love with his prince. Arthur wouldn't want her to waste time on an unrequited love, after all."
"Morgana," Gwen said, scandalized, looking torn between genuine affront and a desire to laugh.
"Or perhaps," Morgana continued, her smile dropping a bit, as she reached a surprisingly more plausible deduction. "He thoughtfully assumed it prudent to reject Merlin before he ever confessed, and warned his poor servant not to look above his station. Perhaps he thought he was doing a kindness by telling Merlin that towards a prince, he would never be good for anything but cleaning his boots and mucking his stables."
"Arthur considers Merlin a very dear friend," Gwen disagreed, rankled. "He may have said something of the like, but he didn't mean it. And he only did what he did after that because he wanted Merlin to forgive him, but now Merlin's misunderstood and thinks that the fact that he did what he did only proves that he didn't-"
"How would Merlin know that he did what he did did prove otherwise if Arthur said what he did before?" Morgana followed the nonsense with ease; she had to listen to Uther's imbecilic advisors pander about all day, and Gwen's rambling was nothing if not an improvement.
"Even Arthur wouldn't confess his love just to mock someone!"
Morgana paused, turning to look at her maidservant with wide eyes.
Gwen clapped her hands over her mouth. "I shouldn't have said that," Gwen said weakly.
Morgana would have smiled in victory, if she hadn't felt so shocked.
"Arthur confessed his love for Merlin?" she reiterated, a little too loudly.
A passing noble sent her an odd look, but thankfully, he appeared too drunk to be of any real concern. He was likely to forgot the whole evening by the morn.
Gwen shushed her as subtly as she could.
Looking around, checking for eavesdroppers, she whispered, "Oh, you mustn't tell. I wanted to tell you, but it's all my fault, and I didn't want to make it worse."
"Your fault?" Morgana asked, and to her dismay, she saw Gwen looked close to tears. She felt a surge of compassion for her friend, and the last of her anger finally trickled away. Whatever had happened, it seemed that all participants had already suffered plenty.
Except perhaps Arthur. He could suffer just a little bit more; Morgana wouldn't mind.
The evening was drawing to a close, most of the guests turning in for the night or too drunk to pay her any mind. With a concerned expression, she hooked elbows with Gwen, and led her towards the door so that they could head back to her chambers.
It reminded her of old times, back when she and Gwen had been closer. She'd missed this more than she'd like to admit. Perhaps it was an opportunity to regain the closeness they'd shared.
She walked with Gwen, ignoring the look Uther sent her for the impropriety of walking arm in arm with a servant. No one else saw them anyway, and even if they did, as far as she was concerned, they could go jump in a lake.
"Tell me everything," Morgana demanded.
And much to her satisfaction, Guinevere did.
ooo
Morgana ran her brush softly through her hair; she'd always enjoyed the soothing motions, no matter how much Arthur mocked her for it. Trailing down her shoulders, her dark locks were more flat and defined than Gwen's pretty curls, but still simple to brush on her own.
Her maidservant had yet to return, still out finishing her chores for the morning, and although Morgana would have appreciated the company, especially given their recently reestablished rapport, she also appreciated the time to think. She stared into the mirror, meeting her own gaze, as if searching her expression for some sort of sign.
Morgana would admit—or rather, she wouldn't—to the smallest bit of jealousy, when she found out that Arthur loved Merlin. Not so much because she cared for Arthur himself; no, she pitied whatever poor fool who ended up stuck with that foolhardy oaf. Rather, she was jealous he'd found "the right person to love", when she'd still yet to find her own.
She didn't even truly wish for a romance. It simply infuriated her, the knowledge that Uther would likely sell her off, like a piece of cattle, to secure some political alliance. It fueled her ever-growing hatred for him; the hatred that conflicted so greatly with her love for the king, and yet grew even more because ofthat love.
She hated that she still had affection in her heart for the man who'd killed so many of her kind.
Yet, by that logic, she had no right to be jealous of Merlin. She owed him. She wouldn't have even known that she belonged to her kind, if not for Merlin's bravery in showing her to the druids.
With time to sort her thoughts, any jealousy of Arthur and Merlin finding solace in each other quickly diminished. Not gone, but eased from a flame to a soft ember.
Morgana snorted humorlessly. In all honesty, she should pity the two. A servant and a prince, and both men at that. They had less hope of being together than Morgana did of choosing her own husband.
And she should certainly pity Merlin, for being in love with that insufferable, brainless lump of muscle.
But then, Arthur couldn't really help being brainless, so maybe she should pity him as well, for making a right mess of the situation because he could manage little else.
So perhaps Merlin and Arthur weren't destined to be together, or to unite Albion, or any of those typical grand romances of the age. But at the very least, they might find comfort with each other in the shadows, instead of moping around the halls and pining after one another.
Let it never be said that Morgana didn't help her friends.
She could put aside her dark thoughts, and ensure that they found this little bit of happiness, at the very least. It was the least she could do for Merlin after he'd helped her, and as begrudging as her affection for Arthur was... well, he was still like a brother to her. One she might resent for upholding Uther's rule, but as close to family as she had left.
Mind made up, she stood from her vanity's stool, taking one last glance at her reflection. Her lips curved up into a smile, before she purposefully changed it to a more severe expression, her chin lifting proudly. Only her eyes hinted at the mischievous determination she felt.
Morgana slipped out of her room, striding down the hallway with a purpose. Servants doing their morning rounds hastened to give her a quick bow before scurrying off as she passed by, constantly on the move. She kept an eye out for Gwen amongst them, considering to ask her handmaiden along if they crossed paths. She dismissed the idea when she reached Arthur's chambers without catching sight of her.
Morgana rapped on the door. Amusement grew when it hastily burst open just seconds later; if Arthur had been sitting at his desk, or even his table, he must have scrambled to reach it so fast.
"Since when do you knock, Merli- oh," Arthur cut off. His face fell upon catching sight of her. She'd have been offended in any other circumstances, but she'd make allowances for lovesickness. "Morgana."
"Arthur," she said imperiously, striding forward so that he was forced to step out of the way. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"There appears to be little need," Arthur said sardonically, scowling as he went back to the window. He perched on the sill, drawing up a knee and crossing his arms. "I'm really not in the mood for a social call, Morgana."
"Nonsense," she replied sweetly. "I find your current disposition no more disagreeable than usual."
Arthur snorted, but didn't rise up to their usual banter. His sigh dissipated whatever short-lived humour he'd found.
"I hear you're having trouble with your manservant," Morgana observed casually, adopting an expression of genteel concern. "I thought you might appreciate some company."
"If you came here to laugh at me, Morgana-"
"Of course not," she said, her face dropping the facade, taking on a more neutral mien. "Unless, you are, in fact, as dense as I suspect."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur questioned. His face twisted with confusion.
"I mean that you're obviously upset," Morgana said, calculating quickly how to go about this without implicating Gwen. "I just came to see if you've realised why you're so upset, and to offer my guidance if not. You can hardly accomplish your goals if you don't even know what you're aiming for."
"And you'd do this, why?" Arthur asked suspiciously, knowing better than to interpret her assistance as any form of altruism. Save for finding himself in a life-threatening situation, Morgana always had her own agenda.
"I owe Merlin a favor," Morgana admitted readily. Arthur opened his mouth, but she cut off the question preemptively. "And no, I'm not telling you what for."
"I still don't understand what a favor to Merlin has to do with me," Arthur said, scowl deepening. "Shouldn't you be off with him, gossiping about my atrocious misconduct and planning your revenge?"
"I don't need Merlin to do that," Morgana said, smiling wickedly. It fell just as quickly as it appeared.
Insufferable he might be, he didn't deserve any more heartache. Seeing Arthur so vulnerable didn't sit well with her.
Arthur was a spoiled prince, too much of a fool to understand his own feelings and to fix his wrongs. He had always demonstrated a perturbing lack of self-awareness, but most of the blame for that rested squarely on Uther's shoulders.
The fact that Arthur felt guilty and distressed, and admitted fault in the face of what he'd done, showed that he was growing up. He'd been changing for the better since Merlin had come to Camelot.
Who knew, if Morgana didn't help Arthur, he might grow even more emotionally stunted, and permanently this time. She didn't want Arthur to return to the insensitive fool he'd been before Merlin.
"Tell me what you want," Morgana cut right to the point. She didn't have the spirit to talk circles around Arthur when he was like this.
"I don't have to tell you anything-"
"Tell me," Morgana repeated sharply. Lifting her chin, she looked him straight in the eye. "I'm not leaving until you do."
Arthur glared at her mutinously for a moment, but sighed in defeat when she demonstrated no signs of relenting.
"I want Merlin to forgive me so we can go back to how it used to be."
"Yes and no," she determined, cocking her head thoughtfully. "Care to try again?"
"What do you mean, 'yes and no'? You can't demand that I tell you, and then say that my answer is wrong," he said indignantly.
"You do want Merlin to forgive you," Morgana allowed, "but you don't want things to go back to how they were."
"And you're the expert?" he asked incredulously.
"Compared to you, anyone would be," she drawled. "Of course I am. Think about it. Do you want Merlin to go back to treating you like a prince? I know he treats you more like a person than a servant would, but wouldn't you rather he treat you as... say, a friend? Perhaps something more?"
"I don't-"
"What would you call him?" Morgana interrupted. "A servant or a friend?"
"He's obviously my servant," Arthur scoffed pompously. Morgana waited, and he drooped. "But he's also my... As much as he can be, he's..."
"You can't even say it," she observed, but not unkindly. She walked over to him, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She used her soft voice, her comforting one, the one that she rarely used on Arthur anymore. "Wouldn't you like to be in a relationship where you could admit how much he means to you?"
"It's not possible," Arthur started.
"Not possible with anyone else, perhaps," Morgana agreed, and Arthur deflated, as if he'd hoped that she could somehow change reality, "but with Merlin, wouldn't you like to be able to say it? Wouldn't you like it if he could say it back?"
Arthur drew away, turning again towards the window. "Little chance of that happening now. He hates me and he has every right to."
"Hate is a passionate feeling," Morgana noted, trailing her fingers over his desk as she moved away. "So is love. If his love had so easily transformed into hate, it wouldn't be easy to fix, but I have a feeling Merlin's not one who's so quick to turn. I doubt he hates you, even if he thinks he does."
"He doesn't... He never loved me," Arthur informed her gloomily. "I was wrong. Gwen was right, I never should have assumed... How do you know about that, anyway?"
Morgana ignored the question and his seeding suspicion. "Really? I always got the impression that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him, if not more."
"That's not... But I don't..."
"Don't you?" Morgana asked delicately, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Don't I what?" Arthur asked, irritated.
Morgana stifled a huff of exasperation; she wondered if she should just state it outright. Her point clearly wasn't penetrating his thick skull.
"You've risked your life for him, you've defied your father for him," Morgana listed off plainly. "You're always complaining about him and yet you never fire him, and you smile like a fool when you see him. Do you love him, Arthur Pendragon?"
Morgana was gifted with a very satisfying view of the crown prince gaping at her stupidly, as that was his immediate and only response. She couldn't help but dearly wished for a portrait to immortalize the moment forever.
Five seconds, ten seconds. Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, resembling a pet goldfish she'd caught, kept, and ultimately inadvertently killed as a little girl, and her smirk widened. She'd worried briefly that she'd overloaded his admittedly left-for-wanting mind, but dismissed the thought as unlikely and not worth the effort.
There was a rap at the door.
Arthur continued to sit frozen in place. Amused at his state of distress, Morgana rose to answer the knock for him, since it was apparent that Arthur wouldn't be moving anytime soon. At the sight of who was waiting on the other side, her amusement only grew.
"Lady Morgana," Merlin said in surprise.
"Since when do you knock, Merlin?" she asked, smirking. As tempting as it was to stay and watch Arthur fumble their interaction, it would probably be best for her to take her leave. Behind her, Arthur still appeared speechless and unable to do much of anything, let alone breathe.
"Um," Merlin said uncertainly.
"Go easy on him," Morgana said with a parting smile, head inclined towards Arthur ever so slightly. "He hasn't had to deal with feelings since he traded his brain in for a sword. I'll be very upset if you break him. You'd leave nothing for me."
Arthur shot her another panicked look as she turned to leave, doubtlessly at a loss of what to do in the face of his new revelation. She offered him a saccharine smile - one she knew he would recognize from the time he'd called Lady Elaine a hobgoblin without realizing that said lady was right behind him. Morgana had smiled ever so sweetly as he'd tried to talk his way out of that one.
With a clear conscience, Morgana could enjoy Arthur's suffering once again, as it should be. She was perfectly within her rights to relish his pain, so long as she knew it would be all right in the end.
There was always the chance Merlin wouldn't forgive him, but knowing them, Morgana felt rather optimistic.
There was just something about those two, she couldn't put her finger on it.
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