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Chapter 6 – The Final Match

The following weeks went by pretty uneventful for all the people living inside Castle Pendragon, while outside, wars raged and new battles started almost every other day.
Igraine wondered if it was Morgan's doing because the bandits seemed to be all over and much more than ever. She couldn't be sure and, frankly, she didn't care since nobody at Camelot seemed to returned hurt, so she warded the thought off, and even thank those bandits, at some point, because people from everywhere were seeking for Morgan's help.

In a matter of a few weeks, she gave orders to build a new village surrounding the castle, with stone walls higher than anyone had seen before. The more talented and agile joined the guards and the boys would be eager to serve Lady Morgan in exchange of a sword and a vessel to wear on their cape: everyone showed respect and felt incredibly honored to serve the future queen.

Everything seemed to go ahead according to plan because the people claimed her and they would proudly fight anyone who defended Arthur's right to the throne instead. The crown had to be gained with trust and loyalty, not with battles and conquest, they would say.

Igraine would always stay by her side, supervising and giving her advice, welcoming the dubious into the hearings, leading them to trials when they needed Morgan's judgment. She knew she had done bad things in the past, that she even used dark forces to her advantage and yet now, she was doing all on her own: shelter, protection, trials, projects for new villages, building a better Britannia as she'd promised. Even without magic, now, she had the people's total favor: the majority was with her, while the minority was destined to be extinguished as time passed.

Morgan was made for the crown. She would become the finest queen, one day, if there was justice in that world. Maybe her job would've been to keep her on the right path: Morgan didn't need magic when she had the people's support, nor when she had her love.

Igraine would often smile proudly by her side when she was having her daily hearings. Her decisions were just and she would always try to make the right thing. At that point, Igraine doubted she was following a hidden agenda: everything was on the plate and she had displayed all her cards. Except for the one that would definitely tip the balance.

Everything seemed to go smoothly and steadily, every day quite static as they solved the people's problems, eat at the Pendragon's table as they planned the future villages, or mill, or a better training program for the growing army, or repairing the old well so that the farmers could work easily the wheat.

"We could use some more oxen to pull the plow, Lady Morgan." Was telling the farmer's representative, knelt before the throne. She had asked more than once not to kneel for her, but some of them would do that anyway. "We scheduled rotations for the fields like you suggested milady, and we're ready to expand, we need men to work the land."

Morgan drew a satisfied breath and Igraine could imagine that, inside, she was gloating for the new success. She was proving herself a valiant leader for the whole reign, able to decide the fate of an army as well of a field's.

"Granted." Morgan conceded, then turned to a group of emaciated boys coming from the sea, who had just been saved after their ship had crashed; judging from their looks, they would've been sold as slaves. "You'll take them under your wing, teach them the craft. If they're fine with it, of course." She added, sweetening her tone. "You will be given a home and a job, but you will be free to go whenever you desire." She reminded. Those men immediately agreed, exchanging sympathetic glances with their new chief.

Igraine smiled and lowered her eyes to watch Morgan's satisfied expression. It was like if she could sense her glance on her because her head tilted up and her blue eyes met her own. She looked like a child seeking for a parent's praise and she would've given it to her if her heart hadn't dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the small thread of blood coming from her nose.

"Morgan!" Igraine hurriedly leaned toward her, trying her best to shield her face from the rest of the court. She hadn't been quick enough to prevent Sybil from seeing that, but she had been smart enough not to make a sound.

"What?" She asked the woman confused, her eyes wandering around embarrassed as the people started to whisper in alarm.

Igraine threw her a preoccupied look.

Morgan didn't have to wait long before she could feel the metallic taste breaching into her mouth through her lips.

"Milady, you're bleeding!" Cried the farmer in alarm and suddenly the whole court fell into chaos.

Morgan panicked for an instant, causing more blood to pour from her nose.

Igraine wrapped her arm around her shoulders as she guided her out of the great hall, for once glad for the nun's presence, who tried to calm down the worried crowd as they walked away. Morgan leaned into her hold as she covered her face with her hand, her eyes wide open as she strived to understand what might've caused the bleeding.

Igraine guided her protectively into her chambers and locked the door behind them. Thousands of thoughts were crowding her brain right now, but she ably pushed them all back as she looked for a clean towel to dip into the water bucket next to the tub. She walked steadily toward Morgan and urged her to move her hand. She sighed in relief when she noticed that the bleeding had already stopped, but her face looked considerably paler.

The former queen glared, angrily cleaning her skin from her blood and throwing the towel somewhere behind her. Morgan flinched and closed her eyes.

Igraine tightened her jaw: she couldn't believe she would do something like that. There could be no other explanations; but she needed to know, she needed to ask and she needed to hear the confession from her mouth.

"Morgan, did you break our promise?" She straightforwardly inquired, her eyes demanding, but also bearing the opaque shadow of disappointment. Morgan felt hurt by that accusation tone. She shook slightly her head and folded her arms on her chest, holding her elbows tightly. "I told you, you don't need those powers anymore!"

"I didn't." She barked back, starting to pace unquietly around the room, tracing a small path around the bed. "I haven't used my powers in a long time."

Igraine reconsidered her thoughts immediately. As strange as it seemed, considering the evidence, she trusted her words: she was able to lie to anyone, but her.

"Then what is it?" She asked, her voice cracking as the anger got replaced by worry once again. She walked to her and blocked her way, so Morgan stopped her pacing. Igraine cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look up. Her eyes had gotten misty and circled in dark halos, her skin paler than usual and she felt rather warm too. It was so strange since she seemed to look fine only minutes early. "You don't look well." She stated.

"I'm perfectly fine." She retorted, her voice sounding as fierce as ever.

Igraine studied her face, suddenly frozen. What was she trying to tell her? She had never doubted the extent of her determination, nor the strength of her powers: she wouldn't have dared. So the woman stared, wondering silently if Morgan's plan was really taking shape.

She only got a crooked smirk as the answer.

...

Days bled into weeks and everything seemed to have gone back to normal. The people would fuss around Morgan, offering gift and promoting dairies from their farms and wheat from their fields, claiming that they would improve her health, even if she had no signs of illness and she was strong and active as ever.

Sybil would be heard less and less, much to Igraine's delight: she could never suffer the nun's arrogance and confidence since she had been charged to kept her in chains as Morgan infiltrated into Camelot. It seemed like it happened a lifetime ago.

Now it was her job to stay by the throne and Morgan would listen to her and they would talk at nights, about the future of Britannia, as long as theirs. She grew very protective over Igraine and she would often glare at anyone who tried to patronize her, claiming she was no longer queen. If she were a man, everyone would call Morgan a mistress in the most despicable terms, yet Igraine was not a man, so everyone accepted them as they unquestioned the nun's presence in the past. After all, Igraine had been there before and was still Morgan step-mother, so she could easily hide behind that title.

Everything seemed to go on so well it was suspicious and she needed to know exactly what Morgan had in mind, so she could know how to behave. They were so close to the final strike: what would their next move be?

She entered Morgan's chambers as they were her own – and in fact they were, lately – and asked politely everyone to leave: they hadn't seen Arthur, nor received news from him in weeks, while the furthest lands got attacked regularly by bandits and increasing number of people would flood at Castle Pendragon to seek protection, which was immediately granted along with promises of a better future, jobs, and houses to live in.

She took the towel from Vivian as the maid left the room and walked steadily toward the tub, where Morgan was still laying, the water engulfing her completely as she kept her eyes closed, her fingers gripping eagerly the edges of the tub. The shape of her naked body flickered on the plain surface, thin ripples forming as she imperceptibly moved; she looked asleep, and yet Igraine could feel her senses alert, studying everything in complete silence.

"You shouldn't stay there, Morgan." She said with a melodious and yet patronizing voice. At those words, she fixed her eyes on the water, sure that she could spot the smallest bubbles coming up. "Can't be good for you."

A large bubble joined the others and soon Morgan emerged, gasping for air.

Igraine hurried to her side, her preoccupied look expectedly concealed behind a disapproving yet sympathetic smirk.

"Sybil says it's for self-control." Morgan replied with a chocked voice, glaring at her.

Igraine sighed, that nun made no sense according to her, but she couldn't show her real feelings; she chose not to say anything right away and rather focused on Morgan as she finished with her bath. She helped rinse her body and wrung her hair to get rid of the excess water, then she followed her closely toward the mirror.

She studied Morgan as she studied herself when she let the towel fall from her body; she was looking at her own reflection with a hint of a childish frown, her head tilted to the side as she inspected her skin and curves.

"Don't you think you are in control of yourself?" Whispered suddenly Igraine, mimicking her moves as she tried to see what she was seeing. The former queen sighed, feeling defeated as her eyes didn't seem able to catch any flaw on her, which Morgan could clearly see and deprecate.

"I'm unstable, lately." She stated sorrowfully with a long sigh. "I can't let my emotions ruin everything." Morgan reminded.

Igraine frowned, settling herself right behind her, watching her reflection from behind her shoulder and their eyes locked together.

"You're afraid of losing control." The older woman stated. How can such a sorceress of her abilities be worried? Yes, one day she would have to encounter Arthur and Merlin to decree the future of Britannia, the fulfilment of her machinations, the end of that fratricidal war, and still, the fact that she was anxious, showed Igraine that Morgan cared, that she was human, that she was afraid to fail, in the end. Why doubt, though, when they were so close, when she was about to finally wear the crown? All those things she'd done, useless? She couldn't let that happen. "Don't be." She whispered, her breath slightly caressing her neck as Igraine wrapped her arms around her slender body. It was a perfect fit and she couldn't help the little smile that crept through her lips when she felt Morgan relax into her embrace and slowly closing her eyes.

Igraine laid a soft kiss on her neck and let her hands wander around her still slippery skin. She watched through the reflection in the mirror her own movements, her eyes fixed on Morgan's face to catch her every reaction as she moved her fingers in ghostly brushes around her chest. Her already full bosom had gained some more roundness now and she decided not to tease her overmuch in fear she might've hurt her, so her hand trailed down, leaving a tender circle around her somewhat firmer stomach. They both smiled and sighed when Igraine didn't stop, continuing to graze her fingers further down, to her most sensitive area. She gave her a steady stroke there, basking into Morgan's scent and the heat reverberating from her naked flesh as her breathing became more erratic and confused.

Morgan turned her head as much as she could, searching blindly for her lips to kiss her. Igraine obediently and gladly obliged her, mimicking the movements of her hand with her tongue until she felt her tremble into her embrace, her hips buckle on their own accord as she leaned further into her palm, seeking for more friction. Morgan felt her knees giving in as she indulged the other woman's ministrations, completely ravished as her mind went deliciously blank for what it seemed like forever. She reached behind her and dug her fingers into Igraine's chestnuts hair, tugging slightly as she regained her normal breathing.

"Better?" Asked Igraine, murmuring against her neck. "You mustn't be afraid of losing control, Morgan. It's not necessarily a bad thing, you know." She smiled mischievously, pecking her skin. "I will always be at your side." She promised and the other nodded, swallowing the small lump in her throat.

When she was sure she had regained complete control over herself, Morgan snapped her eyes open, her pupil still dilated, but incredibly firm and focused. She stared at them, their bodies intertwined as they drew strength and energy from one another.

"Then I'll be finally able to take what is mine." She leaned further into her hold and smiled viciously. "Have my dear brother summoned, I'll tell him the good news today."

...

Arthur arrived in the late afternoon with Merlin and few of his fellow knight companions. They greeted each other as nothing happened and Igraine watched from up close at the two siblings interacted, smiling inside as she thought of the concealed leverage Morgan would reveal in good time.

It was a real disappointment, as well as a confirmation of his shallowness, seeing Arthur so tranquil when the northern lands had been attacked just the previous day and so many other battles were raging everywhere in the lands.

Morgan took him on the balcony, where all the lands surrounding Castle Pendragon were visible, the outline of the high protective walls standing bold against the darkening sky, casting long shadows above villages in constructions, as well the ones of the farmer working on the fields or the sheep running up the hills. Igraine smiled, drawing a peaceful breath as she watched Morgan basking into her little victory of Arthur staring astonished her progress.

"You're building a new Camelot, here." He marveled and turned to Merlin, frowning at him in complain. "Why aren't we building villages around Camelot as well?"

"First you need to make people know you for your quests." Glared Merlin, moving his head and tongue in slow movements, making him resembling a serpent.

"We only have different approaches, Arhtur." Smiled Morgan sweetly, gripping his upper arm into what it seemed like a reassuring squeeze.

"You have accomplished much more than we have so far." He retorted, sighing loudly.

Igraine couldn't agree more, and Morgan also, she was sure. As far as they knew, they only assembled a stronger and larger army of knights and slightly improved their income regarding food supplies; but they had no organization for the people seeking for shelter, nor daily hearings or trials to keep the land in peace.

Merlin sighed nervously, but Morgan smiled at them both, looking as innocent as ever.

"Don't think about it right now. Come." She said sweetly, sliding her hand under his arm. "I summoned you because I need to talk to you, my dear brother: I know you're struggling." Arthur frowned, looking confused. He seemed on the verge to talk her back, but she spoke first. "Don't worry: I'll load off your mind."

"What do you mean, sister?" He breathed out in a curious whisper. Morgan didn't answer.

"Do you play chess?" She asked back, eyeing the board with impatient glare, which only matched her childish grin.

Arthur studied her for a moment, then he obliged her.

Igraine took her place opposite to Merlin, right at Morgan's side as he stood beside his king. They seemed two enemies studying each other before the war, the sorcerer's stare serious and alarmed as much as hers and Morgan's were peaceful. Arthur seemed happily unaware of everything surrounding him as he moved first – of course, Morgan had chosen to go second, taking the blacks. It was all so obvious. If she wasn't playing a part for the greater good, Igraine would've smacked her son right in the face, trying to wake him up; now more than ever she was glad she'd chosen to stay at Morgan's side.

"What did you want to talk about, Morgan?" He asked, his eyes fixed on the table.

"How things are going at Camelot?" She retorted, moving her pawn.

"Things proceed steadily." He shrugged, not completely persuaded by his own words.

The game proceeded quite uneventful: whites and blacks dueling into a battle that never seemed to end. Arthur would take some of Morgan's pawns and she, in a matter of a couple of rounds, would catch up, trying a different strategy.

"I heard you're planning on expanding west." She sighed, concealing a smirk.

"Those lands are unprotected and they need rules." Replied Arthur automatically. Morgan wondered if that was something Merlin told him to say whenever someone would ask about this decision. "They also need to know that their king is there to help them."

"Like you're helping Bardon Pass right now?" She snapped, her eyes suddenly bright.

Arthur swallowed. They both knew that there was a siege at the pass and men were fighting there for two weeks now; as a king, he should've been there.

"My men will defeat those bandits." Replied Arthur with confidence, but that quick glance he immediately threw at Merlin, who nodded in agreement, didn't go unnoticed.

Morgan and Igraine also exchanged a glance, but theirs was followed by a smirk: Arthur's defenses were shaking and he would fall soon. He cleared his throat and moved the knight.

Igraine watched the two siblings with the corner of her eye, while she kept staring at Merlin as he studied the match. It was like he knew something was wrong, that that chess game wasn't just a game but something more and Igraine would silently gloat as the sorcerer struggled to get to the bottom of it. Something quite impossible to achieve, of course. How could he guessed correctly when she herself still didn't believe it completely?

"You're through, Arthur." Morgan suddenly whispered, her clear eyes fixed on the board.

Igraine focused, straightening her back as Arthur frowned, studying the board with a puzzled expression. Merlin fidgeted, shifting his glance from the two women and the king, searching for hints.

"Morgan?" Arthur stammered, gaping in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Suddenly, it was partially clear that the chess game wasn't the subject of debate anymore.

"Bardon pass is falling as we speak." She said peacefully, making her move. Arthur gaped, his eyes quickly fixing on the eastern horizon, where a dense smoke was rising, abusing the bright colors of the sunset. "My men will get it back at dawn, the day after tomorrow. It's already settled."

Merlin glared, slamming his open hands on the little table. The board quivered, making Morgan throwing a surprised glance at him, as she faked some sort of mute admonish.

"What did you do?" He hissed.

"Nothing. You always try to fight the enemy from the front, isn't that right?" She sighed, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. Neither of the two men answered, silently confirming her words. "We simply have a better tactic. We'll surprise them from both sides when they least expect it."

"Serpent, what did you do?" Spat Merlin again, his eyes unblinking.

"Don't be rude." Admonished Morgan, staring back. "Your army of knights is the best Camelot can offer and, as you see, they're not even that good, nor effective."

"We build a kingdom through right-thinking people, while you deceive and threat." Merlin retorted.

Morgan snorted, averting her eyes on her brother. He was merely panting in his chair, his little brain struggling to function in front of the painful truth.

"I merely did what has to be done." Replied Morgan confidently, leaning back into her chair as she sighed. Igraine walked slowly closer to her, feeling that it was time. "As you can see, we can offer everything you offer, only a better version of it."

Arthur stared, Merlin was fuming, but stood silent, feeling there was more to come. He wasn't mistaken, clever and yet so terribly clueless sorcerer.

"Winning a battle won't make you queen, dear sister." Arthur finally spoke, his voice low and quivering.

Morgan pursued her lips, nodding slowly.

"You're right. But I can also offer something you're not able to give the people: a lineage." She finally revealed.

Igraine watched closely as Arthur and Merlin looked around confused, then, their faces crumpled up in shock and she followed their gaze. She couldn't help but smile at the image of Morgan, gracefully seated on her chair as if it was a throne, the golden empire dress she chose casually emphasizing her waistline. She was still at a very early stage and yet, being so slender, she was already showing a quite unmistakable bump.

"Are you with child?" Merlin spat in horror. "And whose spawn that abomination is?"

Igraine tightened her jaw, unconsciously glaring at him.

"Stop being so rude, Merlin." Mocked Morgan, rolling her eyes almost diverted by his words.

"Tell me, who's the father?" Hissed the sorcerer, his eyes narrow, waiting for an answer.

Igraine felt a pang at the pit of her stomach but wasn't able to determine the origin of it. She stepped closer to Morgan, shifting casually behind her chair and leaning one hand above her shoulder. The two men in front of them seemed to struggle to wake themselves up from a nightmare, poor souls couldn't even realize what was really going on.

"Answer me, witch!" Yelled Merlin.

"You know better than me that it does not matter, sorcerer." Morgan retorted with a defiant eye and a faint challenging smirk.

Igraine could see him grasping at straws, trying to find the smallest loophole to turn the tables, but there were none: Morgan herself was what it mattered, her bloodline solely was sufficient to ensure inheritance to the Pendragon throne.

Merlin growled frustratedly.

"That thing," He said, his voice incredibly unstable as he pointed his forefinger at Morgan, his eyes warning. "is going to kill you."

Morgan sighed, snorting.

"I doubt it." She said, tilting her head. Igraine unconsciously squeezed her shoulder with her long fingers; Morgan smiled.

"How do you know it's a boy?" Asked Arthur, completely befuddled.

"I know." Morgan stated simply. The poor puppet was still struggling to comprehend magic and their powers, so Merlin had clearly failed him in matters of warning against dark forces since he didn't have the latest idea of the potential of sorcery, especially when the enemy was Morgan.

Igraine strived to keep her composure. She should've felt sympathies for her son's panicked state, but his lost eyes and erratic breaths only confirmed her that he wasn't ready to face the brutal word on his own.

Arthur turned around several times, panting when Merlin let out a defeated sigh and walked away from the table, running his hands over his head.

"Can she do that?" He asked sheepishly. His disbelieving eyes made him look even younger than he already was.

Merlin stopped his pacing, looking straight into the king's eyes as he nodded once, now finally defeated.

"She can." He murmured. "And she did."

Morgan hardly suppressed a taunting snort.

"It's nothing personal Arthur, but you must understand that the crown is mine by birthright. I just assured myself that right." Morgan explained, her voice calm and fierce. "The future and legitimate king will grow to be the best leader. Neither of us has been raised by Igraine, but he will." Igraine looked at her, meeting her eyes as the other tilted up her head, squeezing the hand on her shoulder with hers. She smiled and then turned back to Arthur, her expression serious again. "My son will have the best sides of us. He'll be both strong and brave, clever and honorable. Something we can never be, brother." She said. "One day, he will be crowned as king and in the meanwhile, I will supervise the kingdom in his behalf."

"It's for the best, Arthur." Igraine spoke softly, pleading her son with her eyes. Arthur stared at her, unable to reply, utterly confused and lost.

Merlin resumed his unquiet pacing, mumbling things impossible to comprehend until Arthur looked for him, asking for an explanation, to find something they could to subvert that perfectly planned machination.

"Morgan has already the people's favor while you lose supporters every day. With a son to pass the crown to, the people will claim her as the queen without any second thought. You will be deposed by the will of the people." He told, putting in words every Morgan's plans; she couldn't have done better herself. "Soon, only knights will remain at Camelot and perhaps not even them. As queen, Morgan will claim their services and many of them will answer: Leontes, Brastias, Ulfius, they'll come here and serve the crown as they serve you now."

"But there must be something we can do." Attempted Arthur with a dim voice.

"She has already won, Arthur." Hissed Merlin through his clenched teeth, all the time glaring at Morgan. "You can't compete with that."

Morgan sported a proud smirk on her lip. She sighed and straightened her back, still gently gripping Igraine hand in hers.

"Don't be upset Arthur." She breathed, surprisingly and suspiciously reassuring. "I told you it's not personal. I'm still your sister and in behalf of your mother's loyalty and love," She said, trailing off just to kiss the back of Igraine's hand. "I will offer you the opportunity to become my champion. You should take it, brother: we'll make a fine team."

Igraine struggled to maintain her impassible glance. At that point, she knew that Morgan was trying to tease Arthur with anything she had – she could feel him wondering, fidgeting uneasily on his chair as disturbing and yet so truthful thoughts crowded his mind.
Merlin was wondering just the same, and they were both correct.

Morgan gave him a vicious smile, undisturbed. "Oh, would you look at that." She said triumphantly, clicking her tongue as she leaned forward. Her long nails clink as she grabbed one of her last black pawn standing. "Queen takes King. Checkmate."