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Chapter 4 – The Feast

As days went by, Igraine felt the role of Castle Pendragon's heart more and more suitable for her. Being at Lady Morgan's right didn't provide her much power in matter of decisions and politics, but she could feel that the people were much more inclined to tell Morgan their problems when she was by her side; the fact that they were women was to her advantage: everyone felt at their ease, something she never experienced in Camelot.

Slowly, she was realizing that Morgan was right about many things. With Arthur, it was never about the people, it was always a matter of strength and conquest: his priorities were the territories and his army of knights, he only thought of expanding the lands, leaving everything behind. The people flocked at Camelot without really gaining any protection, just a broken roof over their heads.

Morgan may be a sorceress, her only goal may be the crown, but in the meanwhile she was listening to the people, assembling a fine army, giving a shelter to those in need, promising peace and a future for them all, in her court, in the new villages she intended to build, only to make her kingdom flourish. Arthur, instead, couldn't see much further than his nose.

If only she thought about the greatness they would accomplish together, he and she, Igraine felt a deep sense of fury stirring her insides. With Arthur's knights and Morgan's mind, they would build the greatest kingdom ever existed – the only one who could guide them and unify the two siblings in conflict was Igraine herself.

So, when after a few weeks, Morgan organized a feast for Arthur, inviting the whole court, Igraine saw the opportunity she was waiting for.
At first she frowned when her son accepted right away, with everything going on in the lands, but that was typical Arthur, being too impatient for some leisure activities rather than face his responsibilities; he was young, but Morgan, being only a few years older than him, knew much better and turned regularly her son's weakness to her advantage.

She actually felt a little ashamed for Arthur's ingenuity, but that only made her believe in Morgan more, unfortunately: she was stronger, more capable.

Igraine walked steadily by her side as they approached the gates, welcoming the king and his squad. Arthur rushed to her immediately, hugging her close, then he kissed his sister's hands, while she took him inside, chatting densely with him like old friends.

Igraine felt Merlin's eyes straight away studying her body entirely. She wondered if it was just for her looks: Morgan had chosen for her a similar dress to the one she was wearing, actually making them look akin in their partnership. The sorcerer said nothing and followed the king in silence, his mind at work.

Igraine was battled. On one hand she wished for Merlin to find out Morgan's effective machinations, but on the other hand, she just really wanted for her ideal kingdom to become a reality. If only she could be sure to convince one of the two to actually collaborate plainly.

The feast was loud and rich, like always at Castle Pendragon. Morgan would lively chat with her brother while she was confined by her side, far away from Merlin and anyone else. It was funny how she often tried to get Arthur to talk about politics and strategies, but he always laughed the matter off, changing subject; Igraine wondered if it was Merlin's order not to talk about battle plans or was just Arthur avoiding tedious speeches: during her stay in Camelot, she'd learned how impulsive her son was, always looking for action and the quickest way to get things done. Morgan was more reflective and thus a better strategist. She wouldn't admit it out loud maybe, but he had so much to learn from his sister.

They talked about Camelot briefly and Merlin took the occasion to update her about Redwald's improvements: he was learning how to ride and how to use his wooden sword, so one day he will be the champion's king. Igraine smiled at that, wondering if that boy would be pleased to be the queen's champion as well.

When it was time for them to leave, Igraine wondered what the purpose of all that truly was. Morgan often could see further than herself. Maybe she just wanted to show the people that the Pendragons were united and fearless, if that was that, it had been a clever move.

Arthur rose up from his chair and after a quick toast to thank his sister's hospitality, he expressed his will to talk to her mother in private. Igraine felt Morgan's stare all over her body as she smiled sweetly, grant that request almost immediately, without even flinching. It was like she could see everything before it even happened.

Igraine followed her son to the closest room, a quiet one, enlightened by candles and the silver light coming from the moon outside. In a matter of seconds, Merlin joined them.

Arthur stopped with his incessant questions about the castle and her health and happiness and left the word to the sorcerer.

"What are you doing?" He asked with an accusatory tone. Merlin was acting strange, moving his hands like he was touching some sort of invisible material that cloaked her figure.

"What do you mean?" Retorted Igraine, looking at them both. "I'm watching Morgan as I told you the day I left." She answered, her voice quivering a little. She honestly couldn't remember exactly on which terms she had left Camelot, but she guessed it was for good reasons because apparently, they let her easily go.

"It seems like you've integrated very well." Whispered Arthur, looking straight into her eyes. His voice was low, full of sadness and defeat. It broke her heart to see him like that, but he also needed to man up, isolate his sorrow to better lead his people. Morgan had been so lonely for so long and she had become unfazed, while Arthur was almost dependent by everyone around him. Perhaps some time apart would serve him good.

Maybe he would understand what it was really like to wear the crown. Arthur was not even close to being as ruthless as his father Uther – he had no idea what it really meant.

"You should try and listen to Morgan for once." She whispered dryly.

Merlin was immediately in front of her, studying from up close, sniffing her neck as a dog searching for its prey. He thought Morgan had charmed her? She didn't need tricks to make her see the sad truth, unfortunately.

"Are you with her, now?" Asked the sorcerer in disgust.

"She has plans." Igraine replied. The last thing she wanted was to take away the crown from her son's head, but really, they needed to cooperate: Arthur had so much to learn still, and Morgan would never let go.

"She has you brainwashed." Merlin snapped. "Wake up, Igraine!" He continued, yelling into her face.

She was glad that the music and the loud voices, coming from the great hall, would've probably covered his indecent screams. She hated to admit it, but since she was at Castle Pendragon, no one had ever yelled her what to do, if not for Morgan, who was entitled, in a way, after she invaded her chambers in the middle of the night.

Merlin was raging, Arthur was looking at her like she was delusional.
Igraine never felt more humiliated in her life.

"Come back at Camelot." Arthur pleaded out of the blue. "People rely on you, we need you there."

Igraine looked at his desperate face. So Morgan was right: she had been the heart of Camelot and now it was just falling to pieces. Guinevere was the closest thing that could've taken her place, but of course, she had problems of her own and the heart of a castle should have also been true and strong, something she was most clearly not.

If she indeed had gone back with them, Arthur would have never understood the gravity of the situation. Everything would be back to that fake normality and the feud would go on forever while the kingdom died under their eyes.

Merlin was just too present in her son's life. She needed another approach: she needed to speak to Morgan, talk sense into her. Now she could see everything clearly.

"No." She replied boldly. "My place is here now." It pained her to say so, but it was just as things were. She had been given an opportunity and she would have taken it. Everyone's devotion was to a better and safer Britannia first, hers too.

"But you're my mother." Arthur retorted, hardening his stare.

It was a soft spot for her because she had never been able to be a mother for him, but she resisted again.

"I'm supposed to be her step-mother also." She pointed out. "She needs a guide." Igraine smiled convincingly, after all, that was the plain truth. "Trust me, Arthur: I can get through with her. You'll become a better ruler." That was what she kept repeating to herself; but was it really the truth, still? At first, she thought cooperation between siblings could bring the kingdom to a new era and then Arthur would be capable enough to rule by himself. Yet now, she wasn't so sure anymore. Really, she was doing all that just to let her son prevail, in the end? Was really a king better than a queen?

...

It was late at night when Igraine was summoned into Morgan's private chambers.

She was peacefully laying on her rug, propped against some pillows in front of the fire. She had her the pipe between her teeth and the acre smell of the smoke was lingering around her.

Igraine waited for her call before stepping fully in.

"I want to know what you talked about in that room, with Arthur and Merlin." Morgan said, her voice inexpressive.

The other walked to her, kneeling on the rug beside her, sitting on her heels. Morgan sighed, irked, while she was still slouching on the pillows, Igraine was once again behaving like a proper woman, even if there was no one in that room except for them. It was like she was trying to prove her something and Morgan couldn't bear it.

"They asked me to return to Camelot." She answered sincerely.

The younger woman snorted.

"Oh, they miss you." She smiled, bemused, then exhaled a thin thread of smoke from her lips.

"They need me to keep Camelot together." Igraine confessed. Tears started to prickle the corner of her eyes: why would she even say that to her? Did she really bewitch her? Morgan was waiting for it to happen and she was telling her about the success of her plans. Igraine was questioning her true loyalty by now.

Surprisingly, Morgan wasn't gloating. She was staring right through her, instead, her glance serious and firm.

"They asked you to return to Camelot and you said no, why?" She inquired, her voice demanding.

Igraine blinked in confusion, her lips parted into a silent gasp. Why did she ask such a thing? Wasn't it obvious, when she owned and moved all the strings in her life?

"Because I couldn't!" She spat, matter-of-factly. "You would've killed them all, set Camelot on fire!" As she said those things, it all sounded extremely odd. In fact, she could see that Morgan's threat to burn Camelot wasn't even essential anymore to keep her there, bound to her will.

Morgan drew a long breath from her pipe, then she placed it on the closest stand, which was a carved log turned into a sort of table.

"Tell me the truth, Igraine." She admonished. "You stayed because you wanted to."

The former queen stared in silence, feeling naked again. Morgan had seen right through her once more. Her intention may be different from what she may be thinking, but she was right when she said that she chose to stay.

There was no reason to keep her idea for herself, anymore. She would've talked to her anyway, one day or the other, then, why not now? Morgan was clever, she could understand. Maybe she would even agree with her.

"I think you would be a suitable ruler for this kingdom," She confessed, her voice dim and cautious. "you could teach Arthur a lot." When she noticed that Morgan was in fact listening, she spoke more confidently, shifting quietly on the furs to get closer to her. "If you could be crowned king and queen of Britannia, together, you could-"

Morgan had lifted her hand, shushing her instantly.

"Save your breath." She barked. "I won't share the crown with that idiotic son of yours, Igraine." She turned to her, giving the other a fake, innocent smile. "No offense." Morgan snorted, shaking her head and straightening her back slowly. "Arthur is not worthy to stand by my side. You think me stupid?" Igraine swallowed the lump in her throat; she could say many things about Morgan, but not that she was stupid, not in the least. "Let's say Merlin agrees, which I find hard to believe, as soon as Arthur finds a wife to replace me, he'll rip the crown off my head in a blink – no. I can't let that happen."

Igraine studied her for a moment. It was as if she could see all the cogs inside her brain work intensely around her many plans, adjusting them to every situation so she could always be prepared. Maybe there were other ways to accomplish her ideal kingdom, ways that she couldn't even see. In time, perhaps, Morgan would try them all and she needed to be there to guide her.

It may be sounded crazy, but Igraine needed to have faith in her brain, confiding that one day she would find the best path to build the best kingdom.

"If you don't want to share it, that's fine." She shrugged at one point, getting Morgan's attention. "But just know that you don't need the crown to be powerful or respected." She remarked, touching one sore point. Wasn't it what she truly wanted? Perhaps she could be content with being Lady Morgan, the one who everyone went to when they needed help. She may not be wearing the crown, but in a way, she would be even more loved and influential than the king himself. "Besides, Merlin's charm is too great, he will always find a way to make Arthur shine." Morgan was glaring at her, but Igraine forced herself to remain calm. Yes, the better way to fulfill her plans wasn't by strength, but that Morgan already knew. She might as well tell her something impossible, just to make her realize how much effort she needed to put in her machinations to surprise them and move an ideal attack from the side. Igraine shrugged dismissively. "The only certain way you could ever become a queen is to give birth to a king – and I don't see that happening any time soon." She innocently mocked.

Contrary to what she was expecting, Morgan had frozen with a broad smile painted on her lips, her glance lost somewhere in a daze, as she had just given her the most wonderful idea.

"What did you just say?" She asked, her voice an elated whisper.

Igraine snorted in disbelief. All those years in the nunnery and they had taught her nothing about terrain matters. That poor woman was clueless about the basic things in life, even on how it was created. She had her deepest sympathies; Morgan was like wax to shape on that matter – she indeed needed a guide or a mother.

"Morgan, you can't just snap your fingers and make it happen." She said, smiling kindly.

But the other was staring back at her, stoic.

"Try me." She replied with a mischievous voice, at which the older woman frowned in confusion; her face fell serious. Maybe she had thought wrong about her.

Igraine didn't move, her breaths small and erratic when Morgan's reddish lips crashed against her own, kissing her softly.