Longer chapter this time! I must say, I really didn't expect such a positive response, especially not for something so short. So, I'm definitely continuing this; I'll try to update at least once every three weeks. Just be a little patient with me, please - I have a somewhat busy life outside of fanfiction.
Shout-outs: darkgemwildcat, who encouraged me to begin working on this in the first place and has a great piece of M/M fiction called Set in Stone (read it!), and Queen morgan la fay - chatting with her has really helped my creative process. Thanks, guys...er, gals!
Miles away from the battlefield, in the royal palace of Camelot, the Lady Morgana bolted upright in her bed with a scream. "Arthur! No!"
Gwen, who had been sleeping in the maid's quarters adjacent to Morgana's chambers, rushed to her mistress's bedside. "My lady?"
Morgana threw her arms around her maid. "Oh, Gwen, I saw the most horrible thing . . ."
"Pay it no mind, milady," Gwen urged her. "It was only a dream, after all."
Morgana pulled away, held Gwen at arm's-length and stared up into her eyes, frowning. "It did not feel like a dream, Gwen. It felt real."
Gwen took both Morgana's hands; they were ice-cold, so she tried to rub some warmth into the lady's pale skin. "Whatever you dreamed, it was not real, Morgana. You can tell me about it if that would make you feel better, though. Just let me build up the fire first - you're freezing."
One of the royal menservants had stacked logs in the fireplace earlier in the evening, so all Gwen had to do was add kindling and light it. Morgana offered to help, but Gwen insisted that she stay in her bed - lighting the fire was not a difficult task - and so she did, hugging her knees and shivering.
When the flames were high and hot enough she and Gwen sat down on a thick rug in front of the hearth, tugging their long nightgowns - Morgana's a fine, pure white silk, Gwen's a rough, off-white homespun cotton - over their feet to keep them warm, the way they used to do when they were ten years old and Gwen was only an assistant to Morgana's maidservant/nurse. (This, of course, was before Morgana put her foot down and informed Uther in no uncertain terms that she was too old for a nursemaid.) Then Morgana began recounting her nightmare.
"I saw a field on the outskirts of the kingdom, the place the knights set off for last week in search of Dagon's army. They found them, but they weren't alone. They had- Gwen, they were accompanied by a pair of dragons!"
Gwen gasped. Everyone had heard the rumors that King Balinor was somehow able to control the fearsome beasts, try as Uther might to suppress such stories, calling them alarmists' attempts to spread groundless fears among the people. "Dragons! Morgana! Uther would say-"
"I know what Uther would say - that I've been listening to ignorant conspiracy theorists." Morgana waved her hand impatiently. "I have heard the stories - everyone has - but I saw what I saw."
"What you dreamed, you mean," Gwen said nervously.
Morgana continued as if she hadn't heard her. "The dragons' fire injured many of Camelot's men, but then Arthur took an enchanted sword from the prince of Dagon and dealt one of them a fatal wound."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Yes, the dragon will certainly die, but when it fell from the sky . . . When it fell, Gwen, its tail landed on Arthur! And I don't know if he survived."
Gwen thought about reiterating one more time that of course Arthur had survived, because he had only been hurt inside Morgana's head, but decided not to waste her breath.
When Gwen stayed silent, after a moment Morgana resumed speaking. "Tonight is not the first time I've had this dream. For the past three nights I've dreamt of Arthur battling dragons and sorcerers, but I haven't seen how the fight ends before now. Oh, I wish I had seen this just a few days earlier - then perhaps I could have convinced Arthur not to go!"
"No, you couldn't," Gwen said quickly. "Uther ordered him to go, and nothing you could have said would have dissuaded him. I'm sure he'll return soon anyway."
Morgana shook her head. "The battle takes place on the night of the new moon." She glanced meaningfully at the black, moonless sky outside her window and chewed her lip.
"Stop that - you'll chap your pretty lips," Gwen chided. "Come back to bed now, and no more talk of dragons and sorcerers." She took hold of Morgana's arms, pulled her up off the floor, and steered her toward her bed.
Morgana didn't wish to go back to bed, but she obediently crawled in and allowed Gwen to fix her covers. She was more trouble than any servant should have to put up with - first she'd asked Gwen to stay in the castle with her overnight instead of going home, now she had kept her up half the night just so she could have a sympathetic ear into which to confide her latest nightmare - and she was sorry to be such a burden to her best friend. Not sorry enough to send Gwen home, though. She was too afraid of being left alone with her nightmares to do that.
Meanwhile, Gwen had found a bottle of Morgana's sleeping draft that was only half empty. There was probably enough left to make Morgana sleep through the rest of the night. She poured the dark purple liquid into a cup and offered it to the lady. "Drink this, it'll help you back to sleep."
"Thank you, Gwen. I don't know what I would do without you." She drained the cup and handed it back to Gwen with a grateful smile, then lay down and closed her eyes until she was sure Gwen had returned to her room. She wasn't really asleep yet, though the potion was already working - Gaius was an absolute genius.
Morgana could feel her consciousness slipping away fast, but in her last moments of awareness, she thought the night sky outside was taunting her, stubbornly remaining dark when she wanted dawn to break so that she could find out if Uther had had any news from the front lines. Then the darkness of sleep closed over her, and she thought nothing more.
###
Midday found Morgana rushing through the castle's corridors - Gwen trailing along in her wake, as usual - sweeping past a startled guard, and bursting into the chamber where Uther was conducting a meeting of his war council.
"Morgana!" her guardian exclaimed, surprised by her abrupt entrance. "You look troubled, child. Are you quite well?"
"Fine, my lord. I apologize for barging in like this; I merely wished to know if the council has had any news of Arthur and his men." She glanced beseechingly into the face of every man in the room, hoping that someone, anyone, would tell her there was no cause for worry.
It was Uther who answered her. "No news, I'm afraid. Arthur hasn't sent his report to me yet, though I am certain-"
"His messenger did not arrive in the night, then? There's been no word at all? Are you sure?" Morgana asked desperately.
Now Uther was looking at her as if he feared for her sanity. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Your concern for Arthur is touching, Morgana, but I believe it to be unfounded at present. If no word from Arthur reaches us today I shall send a courier to him tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse us, we have pressing matters to attend to."
Morgana, recognizing the dismissal, turned to go; Uther and his council returned to their debate over whether Dagon's forces might attack Camelot's main citadel magically while a large number of the knights were gone before she was out of the room.
###
"But this is a good thing, isn't it?" Gwen asked as she followed Morgana, who was storming blindly toward the courtyard, scattering servants left and right as they glimpsed her thunderous expression and decided it was in their best interests to make themselves scarce. "Uther obviously doesn't think it means anything that he hasn't heard from Arthur, and if he isn't worried I don't think we should be either - he knows more about wars than either of us do." Morgana came to a screeching halt and whirled to face Gwen, who hastily added, "Not that I meant that you're ignorant of matters of war, of course - I wouldn't say that - I-"
"Gwen, stop. I just . . . have this feeling that something's wrong, and it won't go away."
"Because of your-" Gwen lowered her voice "-nightmare?"
"Yes. I need to get out of the palace for a while; I believe some fresh air would do me good. Come for a ride with me?"
Gwen eyed her knowingly. "You want to keep watch for anyone arriving from the front lines yourself, don't you?"
Morgana admitted that she did, feeling slightly vexed that her motives had been so easily discerned. Gwen agreed to ride out with her and they proceeded to the stables, where Morgana's plans were hindered by a particularly impudent (in her opinion) stable hand.
"We're in the middle of a war, milady," he told her, as if that fact had somehow escaped her. "The king believes it may be dangerous-"
"I am well aware of what Uther believes," Morgana interrupted. "And that he's suggested I stay safely within the palace walls. But a suggestion is not an order, and I am ordering you to saddle my favorite horse - now." She punctuated the word 'now' by narrowing her eyes dangerously.
The stable hand stuttered out something incoherent and shuffled backward toward Morgana's horse's stall, bowing as he went. Gwen shot her mistress a look that was mostly amused, but with a hint of reproach behind the amusement.
"Don't look at me like that," the lady huffed. "I know it's dangerous to be about in times of war, but I also know that the only reason we are at war with Dagon is because so many of the people there have magic. If one of their sorcerers wanted to kidnap me for leverage against Uther, do you honestly believe they couldn't simply spirit me out of my bedchamber one night? I don't believe staying inside the castle is any safer than riding through the countryside."
Gwen reluctantly conceded the point, and soon she and Morgana were mounting their horses and clattering through the gates.
They rode until the cobblestones under their horses' hooves turned to a dirt road; then Morgana guided her mare off the track into a meadow. "I feel like a gallop," she explained.
"You go ahead, then; I'll meet you at that stand of trees over there." Gwen pointed out the spot and set off, skirting the meadow's edges and staying close to the trees.
Morgana rode straight across the middle of the flat, grassy expanse of land, urging her horse into a trot, then a canter, and then, with a final tap of her heels, they were galloping. Their speed snatched Morgana's breath away, tugged her hair loose from its braid and sent it whipping out behind her like a banner. Best of all, the rhythm of hoofbeats and motion and wind whistling past her ears purged her mind of everything else - the horrifying images from her nightmare and the lingering fear for Arthur that she just couldn't shake off. She closed her eyes and relaxed her grip on the reins, giving the mare her head and letting everything outside the rhythm disappear.
By the time she reached Gwen, her face slightly flushed and hair horribly tangled, she felt immeasurably better. Perhaps she could even have been persuaded to return to the castle, but instead Gwen reminded her of her original plan, so the two continued on their way and eventually came to the top of a high hill from which they could see miles down the road. Morgana declared this as good a lookout post as they were likely to find, so they dismounted, tethered their horses to a tree, and unpacked their lunch from Gwen's saddlebag.
###
"Morgana-" Gwen hesitated briefly "-maybe we should go back." Her mistress gave no answer apart from a distracted 'not yet'. Gwen walked over and took her by the shoulder, forcing her to look away from the horizon for the first time in hours. "The sun will set soon! We must be home before nightfall. Please, my lady . . ."
"Very well," Morgana sighed. She cast a last glance down the winding road - and this time spied movement in the distance. "Gwen, look there!" She ran to her horse, swung up into the saddle, and would have cantered off toward the approaching figure if Gwen hadn't grabbed her mare's bridle.
"Wait! You can't see who it is from here - it might be a bandit for all we know!"
Morgana sighed again, impatiently this time, but relaxed; her mount, sensing its rider's tension abate, became still. "You should mount up as well - if that is a bandit, we may have to run for our lives."
Gwen, looking rather alarmed, followed her advice, and the two situated themselves where they could see the oncoming rider without being seen. The horse's neck appeared oddly lumpy, which Gwen mentioned in a nervous whisper. Morgana, however, didn't hear - she had just recognized the man astride the apparently deformed horse. "That's Leon!" she cried, spurring her horse. She thought she heard Gwen call after her but ignored the maid, too intent on getting to Sir Leon.
As she drew nearer she realized that there were actually two riders: Leon in the saddle and someone else wedged in front of him, someone who had passed out and was now slumped over the poor horse's neck. Morgana's heart sped up as a cold feeling of foreboding swept over her, closing her throat on the greeting she'd intended to call out once she got close enough.
Leon heard her approach and addressed her instead. "Lady Morgana? What are you doing so far from the castle?"
"I-I-"
Fortunately for her, Gwen caught up to them at that moment and distracted Leon by gasping at the sight of his unconscious fellow rider. "Oh my! Sir Leon, what happened? Who was hurt? Is he-?"
As if in response to Gwen's anxious inquiries, the man's head flopped sideways so that his face was visible. Both women gasped out loud at the uncharacteristically pale, bloodstained visage of Prince Arthur.
"Wh-what hap-p-pened?" Morgana stuttered through trembling lips, unsure if she really wanted to know.
Leon gave her an abbreviated report as they started off toward the palace together; the knights had encountered Dagon's armies the night before, more or less right where they had been said to be. What no one had had any inkling of was that a pair of dragons had joined them. Prince Arthur had fought valiantly and mortally wounded one of the beasts, but, tragically, its tail had landed on him as it collapsed, crushing his shoulder and probably breaking several bones on the right side of his body.
At this, Morgana, who had been finding it progressively harder to breathe with every word Leon spoke on the subject of last night's battle, felt her heart stop completely. Exactly as I dreamt it, she thought faintly. The landscape seemed to swirl weirdly before her eyes and she felt herself falling . . .