So, lately I feel like this story has kind of come off the rails - it's become less Morgana-centric and more ensemble than I'd intended, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own, and now I feel like the boneheaded mad scientist who creates a monster only to be eaten by it in the end. It's aliiiiiiiive! Sorry, I just had to say that.

Anyway, back to my point: I want to know how you, the readers, feel about the way this story is progressing, and also to ask how you'd like to see it go. The main issue I'm wrestling with is, now that I've outlined Merlin and Arthur's destiny in the previous chapter, would you like to see me write about them fulfilling it or just leave it as something that happens far in the future?

And finally, a fun little challenge for you: see if you can spot the lines taken from episode 1x01, The Dragon's Call, and get a free preview of chapter 10.

Gwen entered Morgana's chambers early, intuition having warned her that preparing her mistress for today was going to require extra time, and found the lady lying on her back with her eyes wide open, glaring up at the canopy over her bed. Gwen let out a soft sigh - yes, today was definitely going to be difficult - and moved to the bedside. Standing over Morgana, she saw that the skin under her eyes bore dark purple bruises. "Morgana, did you not sleep at all last night?" she cried in dismay.

"No, sadly I found myself unable to sleep a wink. I feel perfectly awful, Gwen - I think I had better stay in bed all day." Morgana rolled over, turning her back to Gwen, and buried her face in a pillow.

Gwen sighed again, regretfully. "My lady, you know you can't do that. The party from Dagon is to arrive by noon, and the king especially wants you at his side when he greets them." Morgana's only response was to moan and burrow deeper into her pillows. Gwen tried another tack. "The king says he will have my job if I don't get you dressed and into the courtyard by the time they arrive."

In the interest of keeping her best friend employed, Morgana dragged herself out of bed and sat still while Gwen brushed the tangles out of her hair; although she was in no mood to look pretty today, she knew it would be unfair of her to give her maid a hard time. It wasn't Gwen's fault that her life as she knew it would end today.

Her resolution not to cause trouble for Gwen lasted until Gwen put down the hairbrush and brought out three of her favorite dresses for her to choose from; then her contrary nature reasserted itself. Morgana pictured herself in each of the elegant garments and decided that none matched the image she wanted to project to their honored guests. "No, I do not wish to wear any of those," she announced at length.

Gwen put them away and took out three different dresses. "How about these, my lady?"

Morgana spent another ten minutes deliberating, then: "I'm afraid none of these will do either."

"You're never this hard to please; I'm beginning to suspect that your dresses are not the problem. Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

"It's just that all my clothes are so...so... They're not what I want right now."

"And what would you like to wear instead? Your armor?"

Morgana nodded enthusiastically, a hint of a grin playing around the corners of her mouth. "Or a burlap sack over my head, perhaps."

Gwen gave her an understanding but sad smile. "You know, this engagement was arranged for political reasons - it won't make any difference if the prince finds you unattractive."

"A girl can dream, can't she?"

"I think you're taking entirely the wrong attitude toward this. What makes you so certain that Prince Merlin will make you miserable?"

"You even have to ask?" Morgana laughed bitterly. "I am sure he will be just like all the noblemen who have tried to impress me ever since I grew old enough to be courted: an arrogant, supercilious braggart who struts around the castle like a peacock and sees me only as a prize to be won, not a person. And he's a sorcerer-" She broke off as a slight shudder passed through her.

She had felt an occasional pang of sympathy for the warlocks and witches Uther had had executed as they were led to the headsman's block or the hangman's noose, or tied to the stake - how could she not? It was easy to pity them from a safe distance as they were about to be killed, easy to forget that the dark arts they practiced violated every law of the natural world...until Uther reminded her. Now he was handing her over to one of them, and her usual fearlessness had deserted her. Of course she wasn't really frightened (she had assured herself several times that that was not the case), just apprehensive.

For just a second the same apprehension showed on Gwen's face before she shoved it down and forced a smile; right now she had to be strong for Morgana - and get her ready to greet her guests, or she would find herself unemployed. "Why don't you wear the dark green one - it really brings out your eyes."

Morgana smiled slightly. "Excellent choice, Gwen. Now, what shall I do with all this?" she asked, running her hands through her hair. She experimentally piled it atop her head, then let it fall loose down her back. "Up or down?"

"Down, I think, but let's pull it back from your face a bit."

Morgana sat down at her dressing-table and let Gwen do her work. Having her hair styled and choosing her jewelry for the day was such a comfortingly ordinary part of her routine that she almost forgot what was to follow - until Uther disrupted the routine by coming to fetch her in person.

"Ah, you're dressed. Good. Come along, Morgana, we cannot keep our guests waiting."

She dropped the grape she had been about to pop into her mouth back into its bowl - her stomach seemed to have plummeted through the floor - and murmured, "Indeed not, my lord."

Gwen followed them, staying as close to Morgana as possible, but once they joined the courtiers assembled in the courtyard she had to stand back with the other servants, while Morgana took her place at Uther's right hand. Arthur would normally stand there, Gwen noted; it felt so strange to see Morgana there instead, her silence and stillness so different from the loudmouthed, obnoxious prince's demeanor. How odd that Gwen didn't even like Prince Arthur, yet for just a short moment she missed seeing him in his customary place beside the king.

Morgana also wished Arthur were there, but then the people that the royal court of Camelot had gathered to meet entered the castle grounds and immediately occupied her full attention. Her first thought on the company from Dagon was that they were a dark-looking bunch - the surcoats worn over their chain mail were black, bearing the kingdom's emblem: silver flames, against which the silhouette of a black phoenix stood out sharply - and their cloaks were black as well. Even the majority of their horses were black, though she spotted three bays, a pair of chestnuts, and a dappled gray as well. If they wanted to look forbidding, they've certainly accomplished that.

"Uther-" King Balinor's voice was a deep, almost gruff rumble "-so good to see you again."

"Likewise," Uther replied as he and Balinor shook hands. "It brings me great joy to welcome you to Camelot so that we may usher in a new era of peace together."

Ha! Morgana scoffed inwardly. Mere weeks ago you would have rejoiced at his death. These courtly niceties are so full of hypocrisy. She had already arranged her face into her best disdainful sneer for Prince Merlin's benefit, to let him know exactly how she felt about being forced into this engagement; now her lip curled just a little more.

A young man dismounted, handed his horse's reins to his servant, and joined Balinor, who introduced him as "My son, Merlin." Morgana's interest was caught the instant the name reached her ears - so this was him. She watched him through narrowed eyes, scrutinizing his every move as he greeted Uther, and detected a note of irony buried under his politeness when he declared himself honored to be invited into Camelot. He still remembers Uther as an enemy - as the one who has hunted his kind like animals, she realized. Our countries may be at peace now, officially, but I do not believe he trusts Uther. Or perhaps he's simply not much given to showing proper respect.

She had no time to ponder his mannerisms further, because in the next moment Uther was drawing her forward, presenting her, discreetly pushing her ahead of himself so that for the first time no one stood between her and Merlin, and she finally got a close look at her future husband. She immediately tried to compare him to Arthur - although she would rather be tortured than admit to feeling any admiration for her foster brother, he was the standard against which she measured other men - only to find such a comparison impossible with this particular man.

Merlin was as different from Arthur as night from day - he was slightly taller than Arthur but far less muscular; in fact he was so thin as to appear almost unhealthy, his cheekbones so sharp that Morgana half-expected them to pierce through his skin at any moment - and their dissimilarities didn't end there. Merlin's skin was pale where Arthur's was tanned, and his soot-black hair fell untidily over his forehead as if he'd never cared to get a proper haircut; Arthur was always perfectly groomed, more because Uther expected him to look like a 'proper' royal than because he worried excessively about his own appearance.

It was Merlin's eyes, though, that captivated her more than anything else. Blue as cobalt, deep as the sea Morgana had never seen except in imaginings inspired by the stories her father used to tell her, those eyes seemed to her as if they held a world of arcane knowledge, a vast alien power (Magic, her mind whispered). She could almost believe he was using magic on her right now, except that somehow she knew he wasn't. All that was happening was that she, for the first time in her life, was strongly attracted to another person.

Morgana hated it. She wasn't supposed to feel this, not for him - in fact she had fully intended to hate him, right up to the moment when she looked into his eyes and saw...whatever it was inside him that drew her. Now all she could do was stare at him - just as members of the opposite sex often stared at her, ironically enough; perhaps this was punishment for the few times she'd flirted with men who held no true interest for her? - dragging the moment out until he realized it was up to him to complete the ritual of proper greetings.

"My lady?" he prompted, moving closer.

Morgana felt her face grow hot - he obviously thought her a dimwit - and stuck her hand out for him to kiss. This was always her least favorite part of meeting noblemen, because so many of them liked to prolong the contact longer than she wanted. Some of them even slobbered on the back of her hand while kissing it, and she dreaded being subjected to that disgusting behavior again. Once again, though, Merlin proved himself different. He took her hand lightly, touching her only with his fingertips - which she didn't even count as a touch, since he still wore his riding gloves - and brought it to his lips for just the merest instant.

Still, that brief second of contact sent warmth rushing through Morgana's veins. Oh gods, she thought, what is happening to me?

###

Merlin dropped Morgana's hand the instant he could do so without being rude, they expressed their pleasure at meeting one another - falsely, Morgana thought; she was actually quite displeased with the feelings he inspired in her, while he seemed ambivalent - and then they stood there, neither one knowing what to do next.

At this point Morgana was expected to fill the silence with airy banter about the goings-on at court or the weather but found herself unable to speak so frivolously to Merlin; anyway, she knew instinctively that he didn't want her to banter at him. So what does he want? she wondered. She was beginning to feel awkward and frustrated when, mercifully, Uther came to her rescue.

"Well," he said to Merlin and Balinor, "I daresay you'd like some time to yourselves after your journey. Cedric! Show our guests to their quarters."

Morgana drew back, her sneer reappearing - she disliked Cedric. His obsequiousness had annoyed her from the moment she first laid eyes on him, and Gwen had reported that he was unfriendly to the other servants behind the royals' backs. If not for the fact that she did not have much contact with Arthur's manservant as a matter of course, she would have taken measures to get him fired a long time ago.

A flurry of activity ensued as Balinor's men - all two dozen of them - dismounted, stable-hands came to take their horses, and the courtiers of Camelot dispersed. In the hubbub, Morgana managed to slip away unnoticed and headed for her chambers, desperate for some time alone with her thoughts.

Unfortunately Gwen saw her leaving and followed her back to her private sanctum, where she immediately began chattering. "So, what did you think of Prince Merlin? He's not like any of the men in Camelot, is he? Of course I wasn't close enough to get a really good look, but he seemed attractive enough, in a pale sort of way. He needs to get out into the sun more, don't you think? I mean-"

"No!" Morgana snapped. Gwen, unused to her mistress speaking so harshly to her, shut her mouth and blinked in surprise. Morgana flushed. "I only meant," she said hastily, stumbling over her words, "that I liked him well enough as he is. I wouldn't wish for him to look more like my dear brother."

Gwen looked horrified. "Oh, no! I didn't mean that! Who'd want to marry Arthur?"

"Not I - I wouldn't touch him with a lance-pole." The girls shared a laugh, then Morgana walked briskly to her wardrobe and opened it. "Come here, Gwen, and help me choose a dress for tonight's feast."

###

While Morgana and Gwen pored over the lady's very finest attire, Merlin followed Cedric through the corridors of Uther's palace and mused on what the king of Camelot might want with him, or more specifically what he might want that required them to meet in private. Given that he was a warlock and Uther's hatred of his kind was infamous, he halfway expected to be threatened or treated to a rant about how unnatural his powers were. Oddly, though, the prospect didn't bother him - after all, he'd been alone with Nimueh several times. Compared to her, Uther was less frightening than a shadow on the wall.

Cedric led him to a massive pair of double doors. "Here we are, my lord - the king's council chamber."

"Good. You may return to your duties now; I can find my own way back to the guest wing."

"Thank you, my lord." Cedric gave an unnecessarily deep bow before opening the door for him.

Merlin entered, the door scraping shut ominously behind him, and there stood Uther at the opposite end of the room, the long table that seated his council stretching between them. Its chairs were empty but a dozen guards lined the walls, six on each side of the room. Merlin's hand automatically twitched toward the dragon's-claw dagger at his belt before he checked himself - there was no need to draw his weapon unless they attacked him, and right now they were merely standing there, motionless as statues. Their purpose was only to intimidate.

Uther doesn't trust me, Merlin noted. Why else would he make me come alone and then bring so many guards? Yet he's willing to have me marry his ward. Either he thinks I wouldn't dare harm her, or his heart is even colder than Kilgharrah said. Aloud he only said, "You wished to see me, sire?"

Uther gave a brisk nod. "Your father apprised you of the terms of our treaty, I'm sure. I was told that it is within your power to restore my son to full strength. Is it?"

"I can do everything except bring the dead back to life."

"Then your task will be easy, since Arthur is still alive. I wish you to heal him immediately - we're all most anxious to observe your healing powers, which I hear are quite remarkable."

"Well," Merlin prevaricated, "it's not like I can just wave my hand over him and make his wounds disappear; first I need to know exactly what injuries I'm dealing with. Perhaps I could consult with your physician?"

Uther frowned - he hadn't realized magical healing was so similar to conventional medicine. Then again, he didn't really know very much about the subject. If Merlin said he needed a consultation with the physician who had treated Arthur, who was Uther to say different? "Very well. Sir Garet, send someone to fetch Gaius."

Merlin smiled inwardly; for years he had wanted to meet Gaius, and Uther had just handed him the opportunity. This should be interesting.

So now you know what Morgana thinks of Merlin. Was her attraction to him based solely on him being new and different, or does magic have something to do with it? And why is he interested in meeting Gaius?