Here it is, two days early in celebration of me passing my first algebra exam: Merlin and Morgana's first meeting, aka the One You've Been Waiting For. So now I'll shut up and let you read it.
Merlin hurried silently across the courtyard to the royal stables, his black clothing blending so well with the night shadows that no one noticed him. A few of the knights' horses turned from their hay to watch him as he passed, having detected a sense of urgency in his quickened gait. He brushed their minds with his magic, reassuring them that all was well, and continued on to the stable block where his own horses were kept.
Gwaine was still there, whistling as he pitched hay into the stable. Merlin stopped short, but Gwaine must have already heard him; he straightened up and turned around, pitchfork held out threateningly. "Who's there?"
Merlin came forward, where Gwaine could see him. "Relax, Gwaine, it's only me."
Gwaine immediately put down the pitchfork. "Merlin! Forgive me, sire, but you scared two years off my life!"
"Let me make it up to you." Merlin tossed him a gold coin. "Here, buy yourself a drink on me."
Gwaine began calculating how many tankards of ale he could buy now that he had just made the equivalent to three weeks' pay in one night, only to have all thoughts of ale chased out of his brain when Merlin dismissed him for the night, saying he could put out the rest of the hay himself. It wasn't that Merlin never took care of his own horses, but he usually only groomed and fed them after he'd exercised them. Come to think of it, there was something distinctly odd about him being out here at all at this hour. "Merlin, I know it's not my business, but I have to ask - why are you here?"
"It's a nice night for a ride," Merlin said carelessly, but Gwaine wasn't fooled.
"A nice night for a ride. And I suppose the fact that you're due to leave for Camelot tomorrow is pure coincidence? Look, sire, I know you're not pleased about going and I don't blame you - I wouldn't want to be a guest in Uther's castle either - but still, it's not worth running away from everything just to get away from him."
"What? You think I want to run away? No, Gwaine, I wouldn't do that. I really just want to go for a ride. Really."
"Sure you wouldn't rather come to the tavern with me?"
"I'm positive."
"All right, sire. Shall I saddle a horse for you?" Gwaine offered, hoping for a negative answer. After a hard day's work, he was ready to get out of the stables.
"No thank you, I can manage."
They went their separate ways, Gwaine to the tavern and Merlin out of the city. His bay mare, Star - named for the white marking on her forehead - galloped joyfully under the half-full moon until they came within a mile of their destination: a mountain chain aptly named the Dragon Mountains because their lofty peaks were popular among the kingdom's dragon population as a nesting place. Like most animals, Star hated to go near dragons, and she shied violently upon catching their scent.
Easy, girl, Merlin soothed her. The dragons won't hurt you. Go on. The mare moved on willingly but nervously flicked her ears back and forth every five seconds. Merlin dismounted at the mountain's base, knowing the horse wouldn't go any further, and continued on foot. The first sign that he had indeed found one of the dragons' dwelling places came in the form of an ambush carried out by a playful group of hatchlings who fanned out their bony wings and blew puffs of smoke at him in an attempt to seem fearsome - until three adults arrived to chase them back up the mountain. Then they ran, squeaking and tumbling over one another in their haste to return to their nests.
"Hatchlings," Kilgharrah grumbled. He rustled his wings in irritation, then fixed his sharp golden eyes on Merlin. "Well, young warlock, what brings you here?"
"I need your advice."
"That much is obvious - otherwise, there would be very little reason for you to be here. Now, are you going to tell me what is troubling you, or would you like me to guess? I must warn you, I have little patience for guessing games."
Merlin seated himself on a large rock close to Kilgharrah's taloned feet and finally voiced the concerns that had been churning inside his mind for days. "It's this treaty with Camelot. Father said you advised him in favor of it-"
"We did."
"-But I'm not convinced it's a good idea."
Cryllth, a green-scaled male who was a few centuries younger and more hot-tempered than Kilgharrah, hissed softly, blowing steam out of his nostrils. "Are you questioning our judgment, Emrys?"
Kilgharrah cuffed the younger dragon with his wing. "Quiet, young one! You forget that humans are not like us - very rarely are they gifted with knowledge of what is to come. They see only what is laid before their eyes at a single moment in time."
Merlin stood up (a useless gesture since he still appeared tiny to the dragons) and shouted to get their attention. "Excuse me! I need to know - are you saying that aligning ourselves with Camelot may seem risky now, but that it'll pay off later?"
The three dragons eyed him speculatively, as though deliberating on whether to reveal certain information. At last Flayme, the red female, nodded her head decisively. "Tell him, Kilgharrah. We cannot compromise the future by leaving Emrys ignorant of his destiny."
"What destiny?"
A shiver of pleasure rippled Kilgharrah's sinuous muscles, signaling that he was about to make a cryptic speech - he really enjoyed those. "You are right to beware of Uther Pendragon, young warlock - his heart is cold as stone, and his hatred of magical creatures such as ourselves runs deep. His son's heart, however, is not yet so hardened."
"Great. Why is that important, exactly?"
"Arthur Pendragon is destined to be your greatest ally, as you will be his. Together you will unite all the lands of Albion, and bring about harmony between all magical and non-magical races."
"Oh, is that all? It's good to know your expectations aren't too high!" None of the dragons dignified his sarcastic remark with a reply; evidently they failed to understand how it felt to have the weight of destiny dropped like a stone on one's head. Merlin took a long moment to collect himself, then asked his next question. "So I must do everything in my power to ensure that the treaty succeeds?" Up to and including marrying Uther's ward? He guarded that thought carefully, having no desire to discuss marriage with a trio of millennia-old flying lizards - that topic was uncomfortable enough in conversation with his own father.
Flayme answered affirmatively. "Yes, young warlock. Dagon and Camelot must become allies, no matter what you must do to make this come to pass."
###
"Your outlook seems much improved this morning, sire," Lancelot remarked as he and Merlin put on their riding gloves and traveling cloaks. "Just yesterday I could have sworn you didn't want to visit Camelot."
"I can't say the prospect of spending a week as Uther Pendragon's guest is any more inviting than it was yesterday, but I've come to the conclusion that it's the right thing to do."
"Good for you."
They went outside into the courtyard, which was a hotbed of controlled chaos. The knights who were to accompany Merlin and Balinor to Camelot were mounting up and trying to steer their excited horses into formation without trampling the servants who wove between them to reach the luggage carts so they could toss in items their masters had forgotten, or remove things that had been deemed unnecessary at the last minute.
"Ah, there you are!" Gwaine came over, leading Merlin's and Lancelot's horses, and held the bridles while prince and knight mounted. "Have a safe trip."
"And you don't get into too much trouble while we're gone," said a voice from behind; Merlin and Lancelot turned in their saddles and saw Will and Freya approaching, Will on horseback, Freya on foot.
"Don't worry, William, I'll keep an eye on Gwaine," she promised.
Gwaine groaned, knowing that when Freya said she would keep him out of trouble, she meant it.
Merlin grinned at her. "Thanks, Freya."
"So, Merlin" - this from Lancelot - "Will tells me you know a spell that can transport us to Camelot in less than a minute."
"Yeah, it'll be easier than spending days on horseback - so long as I can make it work on a group this large."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"The book was a bit vague on that point, but I think we'll all cease to exist," Merlin said cheerfully.
Lancelot opened his mouth, possibly to say that he had just decided to sit this trip out after all, but it was too late; Merlin had already begun the spell. Lancelot gripped the pommel of his saddle tightly and prayed it wouldn't be the last thing he would ever touch.
Everyone within range of Merlin's spell experienced a moment of disorientation, as if they had momentarily passed out of the world; when it passed, they were on a hill overlooking miles of farmland - and, far in the distance, a castle displaying the red and gold flag of the Pendragons.
"The royal palace of Camelot," Balinor announced. "Well done, my son!"
"Couldn't you have taken us all the way to the castle, sire?" one of the knights asked.
"It's probably for the best that he didn't," Lancelot answered before Merlin could speak. "Could you imagine old Uther's face if we appeared out of thin air in his courtyard?"
###
When they rode into the heart of Camelot, Uther himself and at least half of his court turned out to greet them. It was the first time Merlin had ever seen Uther Pendragon in person, and he was mildly amazed to find that the man responsible for causing his kind so much suffering and loss was only an ordinary man after all. To all outward appearances, he didn't seem one bit like a madman or a ruthless tyrant. He didn't even look like a goat or a weasel, regardless of what Will said.
Merlin's observation of King Uther took only a short moment, and then his gaze passed on from the king to the woman - no, the girl; she couldn't be older than eighteen, if that - standing at his right hand. She was the most beautiful girl Merlin had ever seen, but her rigid posture and haughty sneer gave her a strong aura of unpleasantness. I'll just avoid her while I'm here, he decided.
Balinor and Uther greeted one another with the utmost cordiality, as if they hadn't been mortal enemies just a short time ago. Then Balinor introduced Merlin, who bowed slightly in an uncharacteristic effort to appear respectful - it would hardly do to offend Uther at their first meeting. "Greetings, sire. It's an honor to be invited here."
Uther nodded approvingly. "Welcome to Camelot, Prince Merlin." He reached behind himself, grasped the arm of the unfriendly-looking girl, and pulled her forward. "May I present my ward, the Lady Morgana." He then gave her a slight push in Merlin's direction.
Dismay hit Merlin with the force of a tidal wave. That sneering sourpuss is the Lady Morgana? What followed next in his thoughts was a series of swearwords not fit to repeat. He needed her in order to establish new, non-antagonistic relations between their two kingdoms, but she clearly wasn't going to make it easy for him.
Lady Morgana's jade-green eyes swept over him, stopping on his face. Her sneer drooped, then vanished completely, her pale brow furrowed in consternation, and her ruby-red lips parted; clearly he wasn't what she had expected. Merlin used her moment of confusion to take control of the situation. He stepped forward, almost but not quite intruding on her personal space, and offered his hand. "My lady?"
She flushed and extended her own hand, which Merlin kissed as briefly as courtesy would allow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."
"The pleasure is mine, my lord." Her voice held an almost quizzical note, as if she were trying to determine the truth of her words even as she spoke them.
Several feet farther back, Uther and Balinor both breathed quiet sighs of relief - Morgana hadn't whipped out her favorite jeweled dagger and stabbed Merlin (Uther had given her maid specific instructions that she was not to be allowed to carry it today, but she might have smuggled it out of her chambers by hiding it under her sash), and Merlin hadn't transformed Morgana into a frog. All in all, their first encounter had gone smoothly.
"They don't look too friendly, do they?" Lancelot noted in an undertone. Balinor glared at him. The knight hastily backtracked. "Well, obviously it could be worse."
"Yeah, at least the Lady Morgana definitely isn't a troll," Will said. This earned him raised eyebrows from both Balinor and Lancelot. Will decided it might be in his best interests to shut up.
###
The party from Dagon were escorted to their guest chambers by Prince Arthur's manservant, a shaggy-haired fellow named Cedric who wore an earring in one ear and was promptly labeled a bootlicker by Will. "And the Lady Morgana," he ranted on, "looks as if her face got stuck just as she bit into a lemon. I hate her already. You can't really want a queen whose face looks like that, can you?"
Merlin laughed. "Will, I don't think her expressions are permanent. Look at it from her viewpoint - she's going to have to leave her home and live in a kingdom that'll probably seem very strange to her. Really, it's no wonder she wasn't pleased to see us."
"Oh gods, you like her, don't you?" Will accused him.
"I don't see why I shouldn't at least try to," Merlin replied, keeping his tone blandly noncommittal.
Will threw up his hands in disgust, unpacked the formal clothes Merlin was supposed to wear to that evening's welcoming feast, and commenced to give them a rather brutal brushing-down. So engrossed was he in beating away imaginary lint that he failed to notice a knock on the door, leaving Merlin to answer it.
Cedric showed his surprise at Merlin opening the door himself instead of sending Will to do it for only a second, then began 'humbly apologizing for the intrusion' and so forth, until Merlin cut him off.
"What is it you want?"
Cedric gulped, wondering if he was about to be cursed. "Forgive me, my lord, I know you've had a long journey . . ." He trailed off as Merlin and Will snickered, as if at some private joke. Cedric couldn't recall saying anything funny, but who knew what passed for funny with this pair? Strange people, these foreign sorcerers.
"Well, go on," Will prodded. "Whatever you were sent to tell us, spit it out."
"Oh yes. Well, you see . . ." Cedric shuffled awkwardly as he addressed Merlin. "King Uther requests a private audience with you. Immediately."
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it ended up very different from what I had originally envisioned; I was going to write both Merlin's and Morgana's perspectives on meeting each other for the first time, and instead I ended up with the part where the dragons explained Merlin and Arthur's destiny, because it seemed like a good place for that part. So now I'll be doing Morgana's POV on Merlin in the next chapter, if that's cool with everybody?