Good news: I've FINALLY written Morgana's long-awaited arrival in Dagon! I know, I know, it's about damn time. Thank you all for your patience and for not killing me.
Following their tiff over what she considered his overuse of magic, Merlin passed the rest of the day without speaking another word to Morgana, but she wasn't bothered; in fact, she barely noticed his silence. Now that she had decided she wasn't going to sit by and watch as Merlin's magic corrupted him, her mind was fully occupied with the question of how to rehabilitate a warlock, leaving little room for anything else. Thanks to her guardian she knew of several ways to destroy a sorcerer's powers, none of which were applicable in this particular instance; Uther's favored methods, immolation and decapitation, while highly effective, would also have the unfortunate side effect of ending Merlin's life.
As she lay awake in her tent that night, unwilling to take her sleeping draft and allow herself to rest until she had come up with some answer to the problem that was Merlin, she concluded that she needed more information before she could attempt to singlehandedly 'cure' him - Gaius always said that a disease must be understood before it could be remedied. The royal library of Dagon should suit her requirements perfectly. Until she was able to conduct the necessary research, she resolved to subtly discourage her fiancé from practicing magic whenever possible.
Pursuing this course of action demanded that she get back in his good graces, so she applied herself vigorously to being charming and conciliatory, and by the time their party reached the border between Camelot and Dagon he seemed to have forgotten their argument.
"Here we are," he announced, stopping his horse at an apparently random spot on the riverbank. "This is where we cross over."
"You mean we're fording the river here? Is there not a bridge?"
"There is, my lady," Lancelot replied, "but crossing there would add miles to our journey. This is the shortest path to the capital. I was under the impression you wanted to get there as soon as possible."
"She does; she just doesn't want to go in the water," Arthur said, raising his voice so everyone could hear. "Don't be scared, Morgana - if you fall off your horse, I'm sure someone will rescue you."
"And if you fall off no one will trouble themselves over it," she retorted. "Anyway, it's Justinia who dislikes water, not me."
"Oh right, blame it on your horse."
Morgana urged her mount forward; the mare balked at the water's edge, throwing up her head and snorting. "You see?"
Seeing that she was stuck, Merlin moved his own horse closer. "Give me your reins."
"What?"
"I can get her to go in."
Morgana doubted that - her favorite horse was stubborn, just like her - but saw no harm in letting him try, so she handed her reins over, taking hold of her saddle's pommel instead. "I'll place myself in your capable hands, then, my lord." A smile and slight fluttering of her eyelashes transformed the simple statement into a double entendre, but her effort was wasted; Merlin seemed entirely focused on coaxing Justinia forward and, to Morgana's amazement, the mare was responding. Because the subtle mentalism he used to influence her wasn't accompanied by a telltale flash of gold in his eyes, Morgana never realized he was using magic right under her nose.
Neither did Gwen. "That was very . . . impressive," she said when Merlin and Morgana joined her on the opposite riverbank, tripping slightly over the words. Despite Morgana's assurances that Merlin didn't bite, she still wasn't completely at ease with the sorcerer. "Normally Morgana's the only one who can handle that horse - how'd you make her so docile?"
"I just told her the river was nothing to be afraid of." Merlin then cast a spell to dry Gwen's and Morgana's clothes, and this time the magic was so obvious neither of them could miss it. "Now that we're in my father's kingdom you're my guests, so it's my job to see that your stay here is as pleasant as possible. Welcome to Dagon."
"Oy!" Gwaine called out indignantly. "How come you never do anything like that for me? I'm your friend! And he-" he jerked his thumb at Arthur "-is your guest too. Or do you only offer magical assistance to pretty women?"
"Mmm . . . yeah, that sounds about right."
Gwaine snickered and punched Arthur lightly on the arm. "Sorry princess, looks like you and I aren't pretty enough for him." Arthur just looked as though he found this entire line of conversation totally inappropriate.
His discomfiture wasn't helped when Merlin mercilessly continued the teasing. "Don't take it personally; I've never really fancied blondes. As for you, Gwaine . . . well . . ."
Gwaine pulled an apple out of his saddlebag and threw it at Merlin's head. Merlin dodged it, but barely, after which he decided to put some distance between himself and his friend. He rode off toward the forefront of their group, and Morgana followed. Not wanting to remain in the company of the too-serious Pendragon without Merlin, Gwaine allowed his horse to stop and graze for a moment, leaving Arthur with Gwen.
"Can you believe them?" Arthur exploded once he was sure Merlin and Gwaine couldn't hear him. "Completely impertinent! Do you know what Father would do to me if I ever spoke to a guest in Camelot like that?"
"I've an idea; Morgana's told me how strict King Uther can be, and I suppose he's harder on you than on her, you being his son and all."
"Exactly-"
"But it appears that Merlin's upbringing hasn't been the same as yours, sire."
"Clearly - it's been far too lax by the looks of it!"
Arthur's tone of voice and outraged expression radiated disapproval, yet Gwen couldn't help thinking that Merlin's childhood, however undisciplined it might have been, must have been happier than Arthur's. At least Merlin knew how to have a little fun. "Well, sire, we knew certain things in Dagon wouldn't be the same as in Camelot, and the behavior they expect from their prince must be one of those things. I wouldn't say that makes them wrong, though. Just different."
###
"That was marvelous," Morgana told Merlin as the two of them trotted ahead of everyone else. "I've never seen Arthur get so riled at anyone besides me; I can tell you'll make a valuable ally."
"What, in your campaign to annoy Arthur?"
"Exactly - it's good for him. Arthur's used to everyone bowing and scraping simply because of who his father is, so once in a while I like to remind him that he's only human like the rest of us."
"Quite a task for one girl."
"Well, now I have you, don't I?"
"You have me," Merlin agreed.
Morgana flashed a quick smile at him, pleased to have someone new to aid her in her quest to make Arthur less of a prat; Gwen was too shy to be any real help, so Morgana was left to put Arthur in his place on her own, and sometimes she felt she was fighting a losing battle. In the years they had known one another, her foster brother had only grown more arrogant and pigheaded.
Her other self-appointed task wasn't going too well either - today she had finally failed to stop Merlin doing magic, which she now realized had to happen sooner or later. She could not, after all, keep her eyes on him every hour of every day. I really must get into Balinor's library . . .
"You look unhappy."
"I'm not. I was just thinking about . . . things." Morgana forced another smile, but Merlin wasn't fooled.
"So your mood has nothing to do with the spell I used at the river . . . or your not stopping it?"
Morgana's eyes widened in panic as she realized she'd been caught. The question was, now that Merlin knew what she had been doing, what would he do to her?
"At first I thought it was just coincidence that every time I was about to use magic for anything you'd find some way of distracting me, but it didn't take long to figure out that you were doing it on purpose - and I think I know why."
Rather than look at him while he spoke to her, as was polite, Morgana stared fixedly between her mare's ears, her gaze slowly intensifying into a smoldering glare. Here was another person in addition to Gwen who read her far too easily, except that unlike her best friend, Merlin hadn't known her for years. Being so transparent to someone she had only met a couple of weeks ago bothered her. At his last words, however, she turned a disbelieving look his way. If he knew why she wanted him not to use magic, and he didn't sound angry about it . . . then was it possible he understood? Might he even appreciate her efforts at helping him? "Do you really, my lord? Please, enlighten me."
"You don't want to marry a sorcerer, so you're trying to make me not be one anymore." There was no hint of anger in Merlin's voice or face as he said this; he was simply stating what he believed to be the facts. "And I'd advise you to give it up." He sounded a touch colder now.
"If you think I ever give up when I'm told to," Morgana said boldly, "then you don't know me very well, my lord."
Uther would have been enraged by her defiance; Merlin only smiled, a little sadly, she thought. "No, I don't, but I do know that you'll never change what I am, my lady. If you insist on trying . . ."
Apprehension made Morgana's breath catch in her throat; was this to be the moment when he finally showed the cruelty that she had been taught lurked in the hearts of all sorcerers? Would he yell at her as Uther sometimes did, when she pushed her guardian past the limits of his patience? Threaten her? Put a curse on her?
". . . Then I hope you enjoy disappointment."
What could she say to that? It was clear he saw nothing wrong with being the way he was and had no intention of changing - wouldn't make it easy for her to change him either. Or, since his comprehension of the nature of magic was so much better than hers, perhaps he was simply telling her that sorcery was impossible to give up once one began practicing it, that there was no redeeming someone like him. Perhaps that was why Uther had always insisted that death was the only sentence for people who used magic.
Morgana pressed her heel into Justinia's side, signaling her to speed up as if she could shake off the weight of depression that was beginning to settle over her by moving faster. Merlin didn't attempt to keep pace with her, but she heard the thunder of his stallion's hooves not far behind her; he wasn't going to let her charge off into unfamiliar territory alone, and his presence at her back was almost comforting. Surely she couldn't get that feeling from someone evil . . . could she?
###
Travelling deeper into Dagon, they passed through a few villages, where Arthur and Morgana were the recipients of curious stares and hushed whispers from the inhabitants. "They aren't pleased we're here, are they?" she fretted one night after having this behavior directed at her for the fourth time, this time by an old woman and her grandson who lived in a small cottage in the countryside. "They still have hard feelings toward Camelot because of the war, and because Arthur and I are from Camelot they will have passed those feelings onto us."
"They're not sure what to make of you being here, actually," Merlin told her. "They wondered why Uther would send his ward on a diplomatic mission."
"Since when do you care so much what a bunch of peasants think, anyway?" Arthur asked.
"The fact that they're my future subjects may have something to do with it," came Morgana's tart reply.
"Good point." He lifted a spoonful of beans and let it drip back into his bowl with a morose-sounding plop.
Morgana grinned. "Tired of beans, Arthur?"
"As beans seem to be the main staple of our provisions, yes, I am! Wish I'd brought my bow and arrows; then maybe I could catch something for meat."
"I understand - right now I almost feel I could happily murder my firstborn for a hot bath."
"If you knew my firstborn," one of the knights muttered, "you'd murder him for much less."
"Well, we should arrive in the capital sometime tomorrow," Merlin told them. "I've sent Father a message telling him to expect us."
"Maybe there'll be a feast," someone said hopefully.
Arthur perked up at the mention of a feast. "I hope so. What does your cook typically serve when you're welcoming royal guests?"
Merlin smiled in a way that could only be called wicked. "Beans."
###
The capital city of Dagon was, somewhat to Morgana's surprise, a lot like the one in Camelot. There was a residential area in the lower town, a market featuring most of the same businesses that could be found in Camelot's market, and countless people going about their daily routines. If most or all of them had magic, one couldn't tell just to look at them. Seeing that she was drawing yet more curious stares, Morgana straightened her spine and pasted on the smile she had learned at the age of four to give at public appearances (sincere and friendly but still regal and reserved, and open enough to show off her perfect teeth), wishing that she had been able to wash her hair or had at least changed her clothes. She'd just hated the idea of putting a clean dress on over dirty skin.
She experienced a short moment of relief when they finally got into the palace courtyard, away from all the gawking townspeople - until she saw Balinor waiting at the main entrance. She had really hoped she'd be able to freshen up before meeting her future father-in-law again.
"Merlin! It's good to have you back. I trust the journey went well?"
"Fine, Father."
"Uneventful, sire," Lancelot added.
"Good, good. Prince Arthur, Lady Morgana, it's a pleasure to see you again. I've had chambers prepared for you, and if you require anyone from the castle staff-"
"That won't be necessary, thank you. Morgana and I brought our own personal servants from Camelot. It would be helpful if someone could show us around, though."
"Of course. Clarence, Freya-" a pair of servants appeared, ready to do their king's bidding "-show our guests to their rooms, will you? Merlin, Will is waiting for you in your chambers, unless you've something else you'd like to do with yourself until the welcoming feast tonight."
"No, Father, I haven't." He turned and gave Morgana a brief nod. "Well . . . see you tonight, I suppose. Anything you want or need, just ask and Freya will see that you get it. Won't you, Freya?"
The brunette maidservant Balinor had designated as Morgana's guide to the royal palace of Dagon nodded. "Of course I will, sire." She and Merlin smiled at one another, and he clapped her gently on the shoulder as he passed.
Morgana hardly knew what to make of that. She had observed Merlin being friendly with Will, allowing him a degree of familiarity most nobles wouldn't permit anyone beneath them socially; perhaps this was simply his usual behavior with his servants? After all, not all princes had to be arrogant prats like Arthur.
It should please me that he is not . . . but all the same, he might do better not to extend his friendliness so freely to serving girls. Especially not moderately attractive ones. It was true; Freya, while clad in a simple, understated brown and dull red garb, did have a certain natural beauty about her. Given better clothes, a little cosmetic to enhance her looks, and some attention to that tangled hair . . . why, I do believe she would be quite the head-turner, and Merlin's indifference to personal grooming suggests that he doesn't set much store by appearances anyway. I may need to keep my eyes on this one.
###
Freya led Morgana and Gwen to a suite of chambers comprising what was to be Morgana's bedroom, her washroom, and a small adjacent room for her maid. Morgana was grateful for that particular feature; if her chambers hadn't included maid's quarters she probably wouldn't have asked for ones that did, but she would have hated not being able to keep Gwen close by in case she had a nightmare.
"I took the liberty of drawing water for you to bathe, my lady," Freya said; Morgana nearly kissed her. "Will you be wanting it?"
"Yes, I certainly will; please prepare my bath at once. Gwen, help me undress?"
"How would you like the water, my lady?"
"Hot as you can make it without scalding," Morgana answered distractedly, undoing her braid while Gwen untied her sash.
Freya curtsied and stepped into the washroom. Because its entrance was concealed behind the changing screen, the castle's builders hadn't seen fit to add a door separating it and the bedroom, so Freya could easily be heard murmuring, "Aqua calido."
Morgana's eyes widened; her new maid was a witch! Gwen squeezed her arm in what was meant to be a steadying grip, but thanks to her own alarm she was cutting off Morgana's circulation. "Gwen," Morgana whispered, "you're going to bruise me!"
"Oh . . ." She purposefully let go and stepped back. "I'm sorry, Morgana."
Just then, Freya reentered the bedroom. "Will you be needing help with your bath?"
"Gwen and I will manage, thank you, but I'll need you to help me get ready for the feast later."
"Yes, my lady." Freya curtsied again and left.
"I hope you don't mind that I asked her to come back," Morgana said to Gwen as she stripped off her underclothes. "I have my reasons, none of which have anything to do with wanting a different maid."
"You can tell me all about it after we get you into the tub. But tell me, does it not bother you that she is a witch?"
"It does seem strange, someone with magical powers working as a servant." Morgana shrugged and dipped a toe into her bathwater. "At least she got my bath to the proper temperature, though. Magic may have its uses after all."
"Don't let Uther hear you saying that."
Morgana sank into her wonderfully warm bath, barely suppressing a moan of pleasure as the hot water lapped over her aching body, relaxing muscles that had been strained by days on horseback. Holding her breath, she submerged herself fully to wash her face, then let Gwen do her hair. As her friend's fingers massaged her scalp and combed through the long, wet strands cascading down her back, she explained why she had decided to keep Freya close, at least for the time being.
"Oh my - you're jealous, aren't you?" Gwen gave an incredulous little laugh. "I hardly think you need to be."
"You're probably right. So what if he smiled at her? Merlin smiles at a lot of people." But not all of them are pretty girls, Morgana's inner voice whispered slyly. She silently told it to shut up and leaned back against the side of the tub, determined to enjoy a few more minutes of soaking until Gwen insisted that she get out before she began to resemble a prune. Then she stood up, dried off with the towel Gwen handed her, and wrapped herself in a loose, comfortable robe. "Shall I help you bathe now, Gwen?"
"No thank you, I'm used to doing it on my own. You should get some rest before the feast - try out your new bed."
Morgana took a moment to examine it before testing: carved headboard and frame made of a lighter wood than her old bed in Camelot, white curtains and sheets, plenty of pillows. Lovely. When she sat on it, it also proved to be extremely comfortable. I can sleep here . . . as well as I'm ever able to sleep anywhere. She curled up atop the covers and let the warm rays of afternoon sun shining in through the window lull her into a light sleep.
Next up, Morgana meets Balinor's court, so warnings for some OCs appearing - I personally don't like OCs very much but I don't know if they bother you guys - and either she'll start researching how to 'cure' Merlin or the wedding planning will commence, or maybe both.
Other news: one of my other stories is starting to wrap up, at last.
Bad news: this makes it my #1 priority at the moment and both of my other fics, while not on hiatus, are sort of on the back burner.
Good news: once Revenant is over I won't be taking up any new long-term projects for a while, so TSB will have half of my attention instead of only a third.