IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: review replies now go through the private messaging system, so I now have no way of getting in touch with reviewers who have disabled PMing. For those people who reviewed ch13, here's my replies.

Revan Knight: Gwaine's background is pretty much the same as in canon with one minor deviation, which I think I've adequately explained in this chapter. If you still have questions after reading it, feel free to ask. The more I work on this story, the more ideas I get for it, and now I think we could very possibly be looking at 30+ chapters, which means I'll probably still be working on it at Christmas.

Brainbowcrazy: Thank you so much! It means a lot and helps me out when readers take time to tell me what they like – and if they can't find anything to criticize, well that's even better!

Morgana watched him go and hoped he wasn't about to do something foolish, like barging into the dining hall and shouting at Uther in front of everyone – which was exactly the kind of thing Arthur would do. His righteous indignation on her behalf was touching, but she didn't want him to get in trouble because of her.

But this is not my fault, she argued with herself. I haven't tried to goad him into anything; I merely told him the truth. I can hardly help that he reacted badly. Still, it would be her fault if she let him embarrass himself and the entire court of Camelot by disagreeing with the king in public without at least trying to stop him. "Arthur, wait," she called out, rushing after him – only to have her progress halted when someone else entered the narrow passageway.

She recognized the newcomer as Merlin's manservant, who she had seen enough to know by sight but never spoken to. "Oh, hello . . . It's Will, isn't it?"

For a split second his face showed surprise at meeting her there; then his surprise vanished and was replaced by a sneer almost as eloquently disdainful as Morgana's own. "You? What are you doing here? There's no one here to admire you, in case you haven't noticed."

"Excuse me?" To Morgana's knowledge, she'd had no contact with this boy unless one counted passing him in the corridors or courtyard; certainly she had done nothing that warranted the venom in his voice when he spoke to her.

"You think everybody loves you, don't you?" Will went on. "You think no one can see through that pretty face to what you are underneath?"

"What I am?" Morgana was more confused than ever, but now she was also growing angry. Her voice shook slightly as she asked, "And what is it you think I am?"

"Uther's little puppet," Will hissed as he moved closer. "Why else would he want you to marry Merlin, eh?"

Morgana scoffed. "I'm no one's puppet, and I will not listen to another word of this. You are delusional." She made to sweep past him.

He blocked her way. "Am I? I don't think so."

"Let me pass." Morgana tried to push him aside so she could pass him, but he was larger and strong enough to resist her.

"Whatever you're planning, I'll see that you don't get away with it-"

"Oh, I'm terrified." Morgana rolled her eyes and gave Will another useless shove.

"-Not that I think you'll have much success spreading Uther's views to our kingdom anyway. Nobody back home wants you there."

This affected Morgana sufficiently that she ceased her efforts to budge the servant. She knew there must be some lingering animosity toward Camelot among the people of Dagon – the war had claimed many lives and driven countless other people from their homes – but she had never before considered what this might mean for her personally. After all, she was only a ward of the house of Pendragon, not a real part of the royal family. Surely people wouldn't hate her simply because she had been taken in by Uther . . . would they?

"Lady Morgana?" called a new voice from behind Will. "Will, have you seen the Lady Morgana anywhere?"

Morgana leaned around Will so Merlin could see her. "I'm here."

Merlin grinned, pleased to have found her; then he took in her downcast expression. His grin faded as his eyebrows drew together. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes flicking from her to Will and back.

Will moved quickly away from the lady. "Nothing – I was just on my way to the kitchens to fetch more wine when I ran into your fiancée. Though what she was doing in a servants' passage I can't imagine." He walked stiffly away, going about his business even though he was plainly still riled up after confronting Morgana.

Merlin frowned at his retreating back – he could always tell when his friends were withholding something from him – then turned and faced Morgana. Before he could speak, she preemptively asked why he had left the feast. "I saw you go in here with Arthur," he explained, "and then he came back without you, and he looked angry." Merlin paused, then sheepishly continued, "I know it's not really my business what goes on between you and your brother, but if you'd quarreled I wanted to . . . check on you. I noticed earlier today that he can be a bit of a prat." He smiled to take some of the sting out of his words and was rewarded with a soft giggle from Morgana.

"Arthur can be very much a prat, but he is a good man underneath. What did he do after he returned to the hall?" Please, please don't let him have started arguing with Uther, she prayed.

"He went back to his chair and sat there sulking. It made me wonder what you'd said to him – my lady," Merlin hastily added in an attempt to be more polite, aware that his natural curiosity was getting the better of him again and he was being rather nosy.

"I may have said some things Arthur didn't like to hear, but I assure you I did not quarrel with him."

"With Will, then?" Merlin prodded. "I noticed he was . . . tense."

Morgana's shoulders hunched defensively. "Your servant does seem to have a particular ire for me," she admitted.

"No, he doesn't."

"You think not?" Morgana asked incredulously. "Forgive me, my lord, but you did not hear what he said."

"It's Uther that Will dislikes. He has no right to take it out on you though." Merlin's voice grew colder, and Morgana fancied she could actually feel the temperature dropping. "I'll have a word with him."

Unexpectedly, Morgana felt a stab of sympathy for the rude manservant – she wouldn't want to be faced with Merlin's frosty wrath. "I don't want to cause any trouble," she murmured, for once sounding like the demure young lady she was supposed to be.

"You haven't; Will causes himself plenty of trouble all on his own. Please don't worry about it, my lady." He gave her a slight bow and departed, leaving Morgana to reflect that she had unintentionally set off two confrontations in one night.

###

Two hours later, when everyone was too tired to stay up any later celebrating the royal engagement, Merlin finally escaped to his room. Will was already there, turning down the bed – not being one of Uther's honored guests, he'd been allowed to leave much sooner than his master.

"So, you stayed till the end," he observed as Merlin entered. "Could it be you've finally learned to enjoy court gatherings?"

"I always have," Merlin retorted. "It's being the center of attention I don't like. Thank the gods I can only get engaged once."

Will grimaced at being reminded why the feast had lasted so long, and Merlin was in turn reminded that he needed to talk to Will about his attitude toward Morgana. He was too tired to subtly segue into the topic, so instead he simply asked, "What did you say to the Lady Morgana before I found you in that passage, Will? Whatever it was really upset her."

"What did she tell you? If she said I-"

Merlin cut him off. "She told me nothing! But I know you, Will; you don't like her, and you've never been good at keeping your opinions to yourself. Most of the time I like that about you, but this time you've taken it too far."

"Why? What is it about this girl that makes you so protective of her?"

"Well, she-I-I'm not . . . protective of her," the warlock stumblingly protested.

"Then why do you care if I'm rude to her?" Will demanded.

"Because," Merlin snapped, "she's your future queen. You should show her some respect."

"You've always said that noble blood alone doesn't entitle someone to respect, that they have to earn it."

"Maybe she would if you gave her a chance! Look, that's all I'm asking. I'm not saying you have to like her, just don't let your perception of her be colored by your feelings toward her guardian. Can you do that?"

Will grumbled, sighed loudly, and grumbled some more.

"Come on, Will. We've known each other since we were children, and you're one of the few real friends I have," Merlin said softly.

Will heaved another sigh. "Oh, all right. If you insist. I'll try to be nicer to Uther's precious little princess. Just tell me one thing: are you asking because you think I'm being unfair, or because you're falling in love with her?"

"Wh-what? I'm not in love with her!"

"Come on, you can tell me – since we've known each other so long."

Merlin huffed. "I am not in love with Lady Morgana."

Will rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Merlin."

Merlin spent a good part of that night lying awake, wondering what had prompted Will to ask such a question in the first place. Was there something in his behavior to suggest that he had feelings for Morgana? Did he in fact have feelings for her? It was true that he liked her more than he ever had anyone else – she was so different from every other noblewoman he knew, so bright and spirited, and when she smiled . . .

He snorted and rolled over, knowing that if he let his mind start down that track he'd never get any sleep. He'd been very protective of Freya when he first brought her to the palace at Dagon, and in some ways he still was, but no one apart from Will had ever accused him of being in love with her – and he had only done that because he didn't understand why Merlin was never interested in anyone.

This time is no different – it's just Will's imagination again . . . Right? He turned onto his back, stared up at the canopy over his bed, and sleep continued to elude him.

###

Arthur walked quickly and quietly down the empty, darkened corridors, intent on reaching the king's chambers before Uther retired to bed. He wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight if he didn't say the words that were buzzing furiously inside his mind. Luckily, when he reached Uther's chambers he saw the glow of candlelight under the door; he knocked and was granted entrance.

Uther was sitting on his bed, wearing his dressing-gown, and seemed surprised but thankfully not too annoyed by the late visit. "Yes, Arthur, what is it?"

"I wish to speak with you privately."

"Of course." The king of Camelot dismissed his servants, turned to his son and asked, "What's on your mind?"

Too full of nervous tension to stand still, Arthur began pacing the length of the fireplace. "I had a very interesting talk with Morgana after your announcement at dinner. She's under the impression that her engagement is some sort of political arrangement between yourself and King Balinor."

Uther nodded. "Don't be so shocked, Arthur. Marriage is a time-honored method of strengthening alliances."

"Father," Arthur exploded, "what were you thinking? They barely know each other! You hardly know Merlin – how can you be certain that he'll be . . . good . . . for Morgana?"

"Since they were introduced I have seen nothing to suggest that Morgana and Prince Merlin are incompatible." Uther got up, crossed the room to where Arthur was pacing, and stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. "My decision is final," he continued sternly, "and I will not have you questioning my judgment. I have already given Balinor my word that Morgana will marry his son; to back out now would be to risk war again. Do you understand?"

I understand that you're sacrificing Morgana's happiness for the good of Camelot. Though he hated to admit it, Arthur could see the reasoning behind his father's decision. What was the happiness of one girl, after all, when compared to the lives of so many of their people? Arthur realized then that not only would he be unable to change Uther's mind, he really shouldn't be trying. The consequences, should he succeed, would be unacceptable.

However, he wasn't ready to give up completely. If he couldn't free Morgana from political entanglements, he could at least see to her wellbeing – for a while. "I understand perfectly, sire. If Morgana must marry, then I humbly request your permission to accompany her to Dagon, to act as her chaperone until her wedding."

"I had intended to appoint one of the knights for that task . . ."

Uther was taken aback by the request but hadn't instantly refused; sensing his father's indecision, Arthur pounced. "I've grown up with Morgana; she's like a sister to me. Once she's married I'll see much less of her, obviously, and it would make our separation easier if I could satisfy myself that she will be well taken care of in her new home, that Merlin will treat her as she deserves. Please, Father."

"Yes, naturally we will all miss Morgana, especially those of us who have known her longest. But you are crown prince-"

"And you are king," Arthur interrupted. "As long as Camelot has you, surely it can get along without me for a while. Sir Leon can take over my duties with the knights, and there must be someone on your council capable of fulfilling my administrative duties." Having made his argument, Arthur held his breath while his father thought over it.

After a long moment of deliberation Uther sighed and said, "Very well, I will grant your request. It eases my mind to know that Morgana will have a chaperone so devoted to her welfare."

"Thank you, Father."

Arthur left the king's chambers considerably happier than he had been when he came, satisfied that he had done everything in his power to help his sister. He had even managed to ensure that she wouldn't be alone in her new home. Morgana will be so grateful when I tell her.

###

Freya hurried down a maze of dark streets, heading for a place she normally avoided: the local tavern. She paused outside, braced herself for the leers and catcalls of the more inebriated customers, then raised her hand to open the door. At that moment something heavy thudded against the door's other side, holding it shut. Freya could hear similar noises and raised voices from inside. Sighing, she stood back and muttered, "Locum rei vi." Her dark eyes flashed gold, and the tavern door flew open with a wall-shaking bang.

The occupants froze, staring at the slender, seemingly unimposing serving girl; she stared back, scanning every face until she found Gwaine. As expected, he was at the center of the chaos, pinning a man down on a table with his fist raised to punch him in the nose. The man's friend gripped his arm in an apparent effort to hold him back.

Freya sighed. "Gwaine! What do you think you're doing?"

Gwaine's second opponent let go of his arm and took a threatening step forward. "Nose out, girl, this doesn't concern you."

"Teneat!" The man stopped dead, trapped in an invisible web of magic. His friend took advantage of the distraction to free himself from Gwaine's grip and send him flying with a thrust spell; then he turned his attention to Freya. He threw a bench at her. She ducked.

Gwaine shoved him from behind. "Leave her alone!" With his adversary off-balance, Gwaine pressed his advantage, spinning him around and delivering a blow to his head that knocked him out cold. "You all right, Freya?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Her eyes widened as they fixed on a point over Gwaine's shoulder. "But you may not be."

"Wha-?" Gwaine turned around just in time to see the fat, red-faced proprietor of the tavern coming his way, puffing indignantly.

"You!" he shouted, waving a thick finger in Gwaine's face. "Just look at the mess you've made of my tavern! And Prince Merlin isn't here to pull your fat out of the fire this time – I'll see you in the stocks for this!"

Freya nudged Gwaine out of the way before he could respond. "Excuse me, sir," she said politely, "I believe this will cover the damages to your tavern." She took a handful of coins out of her purse. The barkeep instantly became much calmer. "Perhaps for a little extra you could let my friend go?"

"Oh, aye, miss, I could do that." The man's small eyes gleamed greedily as Freya handed over more coins, and he made no protest at all when she hurried Gwaine out the door.

Gwaine, however, did. "What did you do that for? I didn't need you coming to my rescue!" he growled, ripping his arm from her grasp. "And where'd you get all that money?"

"I took it from Merlin's chambers – he wanted you kept out of trouble, so I decided he wouldn't mind. Gwaine, haven't you learned your lesson about brawling in the tavern? That was what landed you in the stables."

"Yes, and if it wasn't for that night I could've been miles out of Dagon by now." It had been a month ago when Gwaine had wandered into the kingdom's main citadel, looking for nothing more than a few drinks, some pickled eggs, and perhaps a little female company before moving on. These plans had come crashing down when he met Prince Merlin and shortly afterward injured the royal horse-master in a fight much like the one Freya had interrupted tonight, rendering the man unable to work.

King Balinor would have sentenced him to five hours a day in the stocks over the next week, fined him, and had done with it, but then Merlin intervened on his new friend's behalf, pointing out that putting Gwaine in the stocks would still leave them shorthanded in the stables. So Gwaine had instead been sentenced to take over the horse-master's job of training the knights' mounts. He wasn't complaining; steady employment, while a bit restrictive, was a better option than a fine he couldn't pay and being pelted with rotten vegetables. It was also an excuse to stay near Merlin, Will, and Freya, and though Gwaine would never admit it he was in no hurry to leave behind the first true friends he'd ever had.

As if echoing his thoughts Freya said, "You can say that all you like, but I don't believe you really hate being here as much as you let on."

Gwaine glanced sharply at her. This wasn't the first time she had shown an uncanny empathy for the people around her, and he'd occasionally seen it from Merlin as well, making him wonder just how safe his thoughts were with his magically gifted new friends. "There is something a bit comforting about knowing where you'll be sleeping at night," he said, trying to sound careless.

"Oh, really?" The hood of Freya's cloak was up, obscuring her face, but Gwaine could picture her eyebrows arching skeptically. "Your only reason for staying is because you're tired of drifting from place to place?"

"Well, I- What is that?" A huge, winged shape had suddenly blotted out the moonlight, plunging the street into even deeper darkness.

"It looks like a dragon."

"I don't think so," Gwaine said slowly. "It's smaller than most dragons, and the head isn't the right shape . . ." The creature twisted sideways, throwing itself into sharp moonlit illumination. Finally able to see it clearly, Gwaine yelled, "It's a wyvern! Get down!" He pushed Freya to the ground and crouched protectively over her as the wyvern swooped out of the sky, talons extended, and the peaceful main street erupted into pandemonium.