OK readers, here's a chapter with more M/M interaction! Ended up being a mix of Merlin-POV and Morgana-POV instead of all Morgana, and a scene I'd intended to put in here got pushed to the next chapter because this was getting too long, but I think it works.
Oh, and for disclaimer purposes, I have to admit to borrowing the spell "Finite incantatem" from the Harry Potter 'verse. The other spells in this story were made up by me with the help of Google Translate.
Morgana entered the hall at a slow, stately walk, giving everyone ample time to admire her new gown. Made of extremely fine burgundy silk gauze woven with tiny sparkling gems, it clung to every line of her body and showed off her best assets to remarkable effect. Of course she'd had to wear an outer layer of deep midnight-blue velvet over the gauze to save it from true indecency, but like most of her over-gowns it was open to her waist, where it was cinched with a golden belt worked into the shape of an intricate leafed vine; it did little to interfere with the display of her cleavage. A gold circlet, necklace, and earrings all set with matching sapphires and rubies completed her accessories. She looked stunning and she knew it - and so did everyone else.
They all gazed at her with expressions ranging between open-mouthed longing and undisguised lust (from the men) and admiration undercut with ugly, spiteful envy (from the women, some of whom merely looked furious at the stares their husbands were giving her) - but there was only one person whose reaction held any importance for Morgana. Her eyes sought out Merlin, and she saw that his eyes had gone quite a bit wider than they normally were, his mouth hung slightly open, and his wine goblet was frozen in midair, as if he had been in the process of lifting it to drink from it and had suddenly forgotten how to move his hand. Gratified by his response, she allowed herself a small satisfied smirk.
Sidestepping a group of eager young knights who flocked toward her like chickens to their feed, she beckoned to her maid, who she had spotted near Merlin. To her relief, Gwen saw her subtle gesture; she really didn't want to have to go and fetch her, since Merlin affected her so peculiarly when they were in close proximity.
Gwen reached Morgana just as she stopped at a solid stone stretch of wall between tall, peaked windows; she always preferred to have a wall at her back when discussing private matters so that no one could sneak up behind her and eavesdrop. Pulling the serving girl close, she murmured, "Have you made Prince Merlin's acquaintance?" Gwen nodded. "Well? What do you think of my fiancé?"
"He's polite - uncommonly polite, for a prince . . . and you were right, he really isn't in need of more sun exposure. I can see why you're so attracted to him."
"What? I beg your pardon?" Morgana sputtered. "I never said I was attracted to him!"
"You needn't say it out loud," Gwen said knowingly.
"Are my feelings really so clear? How embarrassing!"
"Don't worry, my lady - it's only clear to me because I've known you so well for so long. I'm sure he hasn't got a clue."
"Oh, well, that is a relief." Morgana composed herself, reverting to her usual easy manner with Gwen. "Now that I'm to have Merlin, we must find a man for you." Gwen scoffed and rolled her eyes, but failed to deter Morgana. "Look, I've spied a pair of worthy-looking candidates already." She glanced pointedly at Merlin's companions, Arthur and Lancelot.
"Seriously? A little realism, please, Morgana!"
"Yes, you're right - they should be so lucky as to earn your affections. But just for the sake of argument, if you had to choose between them, who would you pick?"
"But I don't have to, and I never will," Gwen rebutted in a singsong voice.
Morgana's lower lip poked out. "Gwen, you are spoiling my fun. It's most unkind of you. Choose!"
"Very well . . . I suppose I'd take Sir Lancelot, seeing as I know what an arrogant bully Arthur can be. But then, I don't really know Sir Lancelot - he could be even worse!"
"Do you really think that's possible?"
"Or he may simply not be my type at all."
Morgana laughed. "Gwen, sometimes I wonder whether you wouldn't know your type if he was standing right next to you."
"I'm sure I would if he were standing right next to me," Gwen protested. "Except in this instance he clearly isn't."
"I should hope not!"
Trumpets sounded, signaling that the feast was about to begin; everyone moved aside to clear the way for Uther and his guest of honor, Balinor, then followed them into the cavernous dining hall. To Morgana's delight, Merlin and his father joined her, Uther, and Arthur at the royal family's high table, situated on a dais above the rest of the hall - but then Merlin elected to sit beside his father instead of Morgana, which put him too far away to take advantage of the view afforded by her low-cut bodice.
Even worse, Cedric was perfectly positioned to do so; Morgana was disgusted to notice him leering at her as he served Uther. The pig! she thought, outraged. I'll put him in his place. She summoned him and then, as he bent over her to refill her goblet, she seized a handful of his scraggly hair, yanked his head down onto a level with hers, and hissed in his ear, "Keep your eyes where they belong, swine, or I shall have you flogged." Then she released him, confident that he wouldn't bother her again.
"Did you say something about swine, Morgana?" Uther asked.
She turned in her chair to face her guardian, her gracious, charming smile slipping back into place. "I said 'wine', my lord - I was asking for more wine."
"We do have exceptionally fine wine tonight," Arthur agreed. "And I heard we're to have fine entertainment as well. Any idea what it'll be, Morgana?"
"I believe Lady Helen of Mora will perform for us after dinner," Morgana said thoughtfully. Lady Helen was the most famous singer in all of Camelot; Uther was obviously going to great lengths to make this festival a memorable one. Morgana leaned forward so as to catch Merlin's eye across the table. "Do you enjoy music, my lord?"
"Certainly."
"You're in for a real treat, then - Lady Helen is wonderful."
"I'm sure."
"You aren't very talkative, are you?" Morgana huffed.
Instead of replying, Merlin merely glanced down at his plate and smiled to himself.
Balinor nudged him sharply. "Merlin! Answer the lady!"
Merlin obeyed immediately. "My apologies, Lady Morgana - I was debating whether to vex you further by simply saying 'no'." He spoke very seriously, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief.
Morgana leaned back in her chair, satisfied now that she had finally wrung more than five syllables out of him.
"My son has always had a rather odd sense of humor," Balinor said; then, pointedly, to Merlin: "Though why you would wish to vex such a charming young lady is beyond me."
"I wouldn't make a habit of it if I were you," Arthur advised, punctuating the warning by brandishing his fork at Merlin. "Vexing Morgana can be dangerous."
"Is that so?" Merlin spoke lightly but not dismissively; in fact he was now looking at Morgana appraisingly, as if trying to determine her dangerousness - yet he didn't seem threatened by her. On the contrary, Morgana got an impression that being dangerous might actually raise his regard for her.
"I do have a dagger that Arthur gifted me with on my last birthday," she told him, "which I'm fairly skilled in the use of. Perhaps I'll give you a demonstration sometime."
Beside her, Uther grimaced as if he had bitten into a sour grape. "Morgana, if Prince Merlin wishes to see a display of skill with a blade, I'm sure one of the knights will oblige him. Showing off with a dagger is not proper now that you are of age."
Merlin had been cutting up his meat; now he laid down his knife and fork and addressed Uther - Morgana decided his thinness wasn't such a marvel after all, since he evidently couldn't stop talking long enough to eat much. "I have to disagree with you, my lord - my mother taught me that self-defense is a valuable skill for anyone, even proper ladies."
Uther frowned. "For one so young, you are very free with your opinions. Is he always like this?" he asked Balinor.
"Ever since he learned to talk," Balinor replied with a shrug. "I don't discourage him from expressing himself because his opinions are generally worth listening to."
Merlin lowered his gaze to his food, looking sheepish but pleased - apparently compliments shut him up more effectively than criticisms.
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The rest of the meal - two more courses, including a huge roasted boar - passed without further outspokenness from Merlin. Finally, when the last of the plates and serving platters had been cleared away, Uther stood up to make a short speech. "It brings me great pleasure to be here with you all tonight, and to welcome our western neighbors to Camelot as friends after three long years of strife and bloodshed." He paused so everyone could cheer and applaud as he raised his goblet to Balinor and Merlin, who in turn saluted him with theirs, then continued speaking when the accolades died down. "And now, I also have the pleasure of introducing the famed singer, Lady Helen of Mora!"
Lady Helen entered the dining hall amid more applause and made her way to a small stage that had been erected for her. She took a deep breath and, as an expectant hush fell over the crowd, opened her mouth and began to sing. In the silence her voice floated pervasively through the hall, touching everyone and everything, seeming almost to wrap around them like some invisible sentient mist. The torches and candles went out as she sang, plunging the room into darkness, but her audience didn't notice. They had all fallen asleep - all except Merlin.
In the moment before he would have passed out he had recognized the foreign words of Lady Helen's song as a sleeping spell, and his magic had pushed back, throwing off the enchantment instantly. Wide awake now, he still sat slumped in his chair, keeping his eyes mostly closed while peering through his lashes, and tried to figure out the witch's purpose. Was this meant to be a prank? But nobody would be embarrassed about falling asleep during Lady Helen's performance if they didn't remember doing it, and she had included a line in the incantation to make everyone forget the second she stopped singing. There wasn't even any food on the table for people to fall into. This is either the worst joke ever . . . or something more sinister is going on here.
Now the witch had left her platform and was slowly pacing up the aisle between the long tables, her song - and consequently, her spell - intensifying with each step she took. Merlin's own magic still protected him; it wasn't even costing him any effort to resist her, but the feeling of unease in his gut deepened as she approached. She came close enough for him to make out the expression on her face, and that made up Merlin's mind; he didn't know exactly what she planned to do or what her motivations might be, but he knew ill intent when he saw it.
Two things happened simultaneously: Lady Helen halted within a yard of the royal table and pulled out a knife that she had concealed in the folds of her gown, and Merlin whispered, "Finite incantatem," silencing her spell-song. There was a general rustle of movement as the people who had been inside the spell's range regained consciousness; at the high table, Arthur straightened up where he had slipped sideways in his seat - just in time to see a knife flying toward him!
Morgana's heart thundered as if trying to burst out of her chest even though she was clearly in no danger - the blade's trajectory would carry it to Arthur, not to her - and she was powerless to stop it. He would be dead before she even had time to comprehend that she was about to see her foster brother murdered right before her eyes . . .
. . . But the knife never reached its target. Amazingly, impossibly, it screeched to a halt in midair, hung there for an instant, then dropped onto the table in front of its intended victim with an anticlimactic thunk. Morgana glanced up - and her wide, disbelieving eyes met Merlin's, which glowed with an unearthly golden light. Their gazes locked for a second that seemed to stretch out interminably, during which Merlin's eyes returned to their normal blue, and then the instincts that had been conditioned into Morgana over a lifetime of being taught to fear magic took over. She screamed.
Morgana's shrieks brought guards running from outside the hall, their loud voices joining the guests' murmurs of confusion and fear. "What happened to the torches?" the one in the lead asked, and, "It's too bloody dark in here! I can't see a thing!" complained another as he tripped over his own feet.
Merlin rolled his eyes, cast "Voco ignis!" and the extinguished torches in their wall-brackets and candles in the huge iron chandelier roared back to life, causing the assembly to duck, cry out, or even faint as the flames flared up before settling back to their usual controlled burn. Even Uther looked unnerved by Merlin's blatant display of magic, but he quickly recovered himself and bellowed, "Guards! Seize her!"
Her? Morgana wondered. Her gaze followed the line from Uther's fingertip to the person he was pointing at, and she gasped her astonishment. 'Lady Helen' was gone; in her place stood a withered, grizzle-haired old crone, the singer's best dress hanging loosely off her bony form. Morgana knew her to be Mary Collins, whose son had been executed for practicing magic, who had vowed to take vengeance on Uther for her son's death. Morgana had felt sympathy for her at the time, but not anymore - not after she had just tried to kill Arthur. Uther obviously recognized her too; he shouted again for the guards to remove her.
"You would protect the son of that monster?" Mary Collins demanded of Merlin. "You would side with him over your own kind? Traitor!"
"No, that would be you," Merlin retorted coldly. "It's people like you that give magic a bad name and turn those without it against us."
Mary Collins laughed insanely at him. "My son never harmed a soul, but he-" she pointed a shaking finger at Uther "-murdered him just the same. He will turn on you too - you think not? You must be a madman or an idiot!"
Balinor made to leave the dais, intent on personally making the witch regret insulting his son, but Uther's guards reached her first. "That's enough, you!" one of them growled, while the other pinioned her arms behind her back. Together they dragged her out of the hall.
Once she was gone, everyone's attention shifted to the other person they had seen using magic: Merlin. Some of Camelot's knights were reaching for swords that weren't there, their training demanding that they seize him as well even though they hadn't been ordered to do so, while Balinor's men eyed them warily, ready to spring into action if any of them made a move against Merlin. The noncombatant noblemen and -women simply looked terrified of him.
Merlin couldn't believe it. He hadn't shown even a fraction of his true power tonight - he had saved their prince's life! - yet they all looked at him as if he were some sort of monster. Nobody had ever been afraid of him before - intimidated by his position as crown prince of one of the most powerful kingdoms in Albion, perhaps, but never truly frightened, and not by him, Merlin himself. He didn't like the feeling their fear gave him at all.
Then the whispers started, and Merlin decided he could do without hearing what they said about him. He turned and bowed stiffly to Uther. "Excuse me, my lord." Then he departed the hall as fast as was possible without actually running, not waiting for Uther to excuse him, leaving behind a thoroughly shocked court of Camelot.
Next chapter we'll see Morgana sneaking out of her room at night (and the useless guards failing to catch her, natch) and more M/M!