Mediatrix & kyuubi shadow: Thank you both.

Galantha Dreams: Thank you, I'm happy I can help improve your mood. I've had days when I really wanted something to give me a lift, so if I can do that for you I'm pleased to do it.

Gemmaaaaa: Merlin and Morgana are totally cute together aren't they? I don't know exactly how many chapters there will be until the wedding, but I'm guessing it'll be more than ten. This will be a fairly long story.

Warning: OCs feature heavily in this chapter. Please don't be put off by that, it's not going to become a regular thing.

Outside the physician's quarters, Merlin stopped to tell Morgana, "Whatever you do, don't stare. Edwin hates that."

The lady's eyebrows lifted slightly. "I don't understand, my lord."

"You will." Merlin opened the door to the infirmary and motioned Morgana inside. The physician - at first glance a perfectly average man clad in a plain brown robe, with thick, sandy hair - was bent over his worktable, studying something under his magnifying glass. Merlin cleared his throat. "Edwin, I've brought you a patient."

The physician waved a hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, I've been dispensing headache remedies all morning. You know where they're kept, sire."

"I beg your pardon," Morgana said heatedly. "I am not here because I overindulged last night!"

Edwin put down his glass and finally turned to face her head-on. Morgana inhaled sharply. The right side of the man's face was a mass of rough white scar tissue which stretched down his throat to the collar of his robe. Morgana couldn't imagine what horrific injury he must have sustained to cause such an extensive disfigurement; against Merlin's advice, she seemed powerless to tear her gaze from the physician's scars.

"My lady, allow me to present Edwin Muirden, court physician of Dagon. Edwin, my fiancée, the Lady Morgana of Camelot."

Edwin bowed. "Yes, I heard the news from at least two dozen people who were at the feast. It seems congratulations are in order. Now, what ails you, my lady?"

"I cannot sleep. I've taken sleeping drafts for this problem for years; the physician who treated me in Camelot wrote down the formula-"

"If it pleases my lady, I prefer to examine new patients myself and make my own diagnoses."

Merlin nodded encouragingly, so Morgana seated herself on Edwin's workbench. Edwin examined her thoroughly, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to check her temperature, taking her pulse at her wrist and under her jaw, and depressing her tongue with a thin, flat piece of smooth wood so he could look down into her throat. Lastly, he conjured a small flame inches from her face. Morgana jumped. "Master Muirden!"

"Pardon me, my lady, I only meant to observe your pupils' reaction to sudden changes in light. Quite routine, I assure you. Now, about the nature of your affliction: are you unable to fall asleep, or do you find yourself awakening during the night?"

Morgana glanced from Edwin to Merlin, who was perusing the various items on Edwin's shelves with an air that suggested he was already intimately familiar with everything in the room. She wasn't keen on discussing her nightmares within earshot of him. "I have nightmares," she admitted quietly. "They wake me at all hours, and sometimes I don't want to sleep at all. But sooner or later I must."

Edwin hmmed softly. "What do you dream about, my lady?"

Morgana's voice dropped to the merest whisper. "Dreadful things."

Edwin patted her shoulder sympathetically. Somehow the gesture wasn't as comforting as when Gaius did it. "I shall prepare the potion you require and have it sent to you this evening."

"Thank you, Master Muirden."

###

Morgana spent the day exploring the castle with Gwen and Freya, who explained the layout of the palace, its magical security, various strange creatures featured in sculptures and tapestries that the two Camelot natives had never seen before, and even the dazzling white stone the castle was built of. "It's quartz from the province of Stonecliff, my lady. It's been a popular building material for years, which has made Lord Syrus a very rich man."

"So that's where his influence comes from," Morgana muttered.

At half-past six she reported to the library for her first lesson with the court historian, Theodosius. At least ninety years of age, his wrinkled head was topped with wispy whitish-gray hair, and his thin frame reminded Morgana of a stick insect. "Welcome, Lady Morgana, to my humble abode," he greeted her in a voice like two dry old leaves rubbing together.

Morgana shook his hand gently - his skin felt like paper stretched over a frame of brittle twigs for bones, and she worried his hand might break if she gripped it too hard. "Surely you don't live here?"

"My quarters are adjacent to this library, and I hardly ever leave it. Documenting and preserving the history of this kingdom is my life, Lady; indeed, much of it was my life. I have seen much, over the years . . . Now, the king has asked me to teach you about Dagon, and so I will." Wrapping bony fingers around her arm, he led her to a table piled high with books and motioned for her to sit. "We will begin with what you will need to know to pass the test for admittance to the king's council." He pulled a tome more than six inches thick from one of the stacks - Morgana was amazed that he could lift it - and placed it in front of her with a thud that seemed very loud in the silence of the library. Little clouds of dust puffed into the air as he turned the pages. "You know how to read, my lady?"

"Of course I can read!" Morgana said indignantly.

"Then you may begin with this passage here." Theodosius indicated the place with a jab of his finger.

Morgana blew away yet more dust and began reading the faded script. For the next hour she studied the kingdom's laws on matters mundane and magical while Theodosius hovered over her, offering the occasional anecdote about cases where a particular law had decided an accused person's guilt or innocence. He also seemed to know every instance when new laws had been created, or when existing ones had been amended or repealed.

When he decided she'd had enough for one night he closed the book and asked, "What are the rules governing the use of magic in combat?"

Morgana kneaded her knuckles over her forehead, which felt ready to burst with all the new information her brain had absorbed. "There are no rules except in jousts, tournaments, or formal duels between knights. Using magic in jousts to affect one's opponent's mount or aim with a lance is illegal. In tournaments magic may only be used in sorcerers' competitions, and can only be used in duels if both combatants agree, which isn't likely to happen unless they're both magicians."

"Very good, my lady. Tomorrow evening we shall begin with the rules of magical combat."

"You are going to teach me about magic?" The historian nodded. Morgana's heartbeat quickened. "May I ask you a question now? About magic?"

"What form of magic?"

"There are forms of magic?"

The gray tangle of Theodosius' eyebrows lifted. "Of course, Lady Morgana. There are the physical branches of magic, such as healing, battle magic, blood magic, potion-brewing, alchemy, meteorology and geology, curses and counter-curses, and so on; then there is mentalism: the art of scrying, mind-to-mind communication, compulsion, prophecy. What is your area of interest?"

Morgana was dismayed; her query wasn't related to any particular branch of magic, and she didn't even understand some of the words she had just heard. "I suppose I want to know . . . about the nature of magic itself."

"Ahh. That is a very complex subject, still shrouded in mystery after all these years. Alas, it would take more understanding than I possess to teach you about the nature of magic itself."

"But you must have known hundreds of sorcerers throughout your long life," Morgana persisted. "I wish to know whether it is possible for a sorcerer to give up practicing magic."

Theodosius frowned, deepening the wrinkles of his face more yet. "That would depend on what sort of sorcerer they are. Those who choose to practice magic can always choose a different path later, but those who are not sorcerers by their own choosing can never choose to be anything else."

Morgana sighed. It seemed to her that the old man was being deliberately cryptic, but she dared not be more specific; she didn't know if she could trust Theodosius, or if he would report on her to the king. "Thank you, historian." Frustrated, she turned and walked away.

As she picked her way through the narrow walkways between bookshelves toward the door, a young woman in a plain sky-blue gown stepped out of a gap between a bookshelf and a tall cabinet containing who knew what into her path. "Lady Morgana," she said nervously, curtseying.

"Yes. Who are you?" Morgana asked, not unkindly.

The young woman gulped. "Lady Amalla, my lady. We, um, met at last night's feast, but you probably don't remember me."

"Yes, I do. You're one of Lady Sirenia's friends. What do you want?" Amalla must want something, since she had approached Morgana and was talking to her even though she seemed very nervous, almost frightened.

"I, um, I wanted to introduce myself properly."

"We have already been introduced," Morgana said coolly.

Amalla's hazel eyes darted around as if searching for an escape, but she held her ground. "But I haven't had a chance to speak with you, and, um, I wanted to."

Morgana appraised the other girl through narrowed, slightly suspicious eyes. If she was going to befriend anyone in the court of Dagon she wasn't sure she wanted it to be someone so timid that she could easily be taken for a mute. She also found the girl's motives questionable. "Why?"

"Because I'd rather be your friend than Sirenia's," Amalla blurted with none of her usual hesitance. "I've followed her around for years because I thought she would probably be queen one day-"

"That will never happen," Morgana snapped.

"Sirenia can, um, make life unpleasant for those who disagree with her . . . that's why I never pointed out that Prince Merlin doesn't, um, like her." Amalla wrung her hands as an expression of fear crossed her face. "If anyone could find a way around the prince not wanting her, it would be Sirenia. No one really stands up to her . . . until you came. That's why if there's anything I can do for you, I want to."

Morgana still didn't trust her, but rejecting her offer out of hand would be foolish. Lady Amalla might be useful later. "I shall tell you if there is. Good night."

###

That night Morgana ate dinner with Arthur and Merlin, who, to her surprise, showed up together, looking friendlier than she had ever seen them.

"So, Morgana, what have you been doing today? Brushing your hair?"

"No, Arthur," she answered haughtily, "I've been familiarizing myself with this place. The palace holds some beautiful artwork." Arthur's expression immediately took on a hint of boredom; he never had much interest in pretty things that served no useful purpose. Morgana shifted her attention to Merlin, who sat beside Arthur on the opposite side of the square table from her. "I was particularly interested in a carving depicting the birth of dragons. Do you know the one I'm talking about?"

"Yes."

"Freya told me that the man in the picture was a dragonlord, but she couldn't explain why he was there."

"Dragons hatch when a dragonlord names them. That's why the ones in this kingdom nest in a chain of mountains just a few miles outside the city."

"There are dragons here?" Arthur asked. His hand twitched, fingers itching to reach for the sword he wasn't wearing.

"No, their nesting place is miles from the capital," Merlin patiently repeated. "Of course they can fly here in minutes . . ."

"And is having them so close safe?"

Merlin laughed. "They're dragons, Arthur - there's nothing very safe about them. But they don't hunt people unless someone's foolish enough to intrude on their territory. I didn't even ride out there until Kilgharrah called me."

"A dragon called you," Arthur said incredulously, "and you went to it? Do you have a death wish?"

"He's over five thousand years old, and very powerful - you don't ignore him. Anyway, he's my friend . . . sort of." Merlin tore off a chunk of bread and popped it in his mouth.

Morgana filled the sudden silence by telling the boys about her encounter with Lady Amalla in the library. "What do you think of her?" she asked Merlin when she had finished her tale.

"She's all right." After a short pause for thought he elaborated, "The Lady Amalla is very intelligent and observant enough that she knows most of what goes on in this court, but she's sort of-" He broke off, searching for the right word, and finally settled on, "Ineffective. She has a little magic but nothing special, and she's more of a follower than a leader. Not like you."

Morgana smiled. "Thank you, my lord." She made up her mind to speak with her would-be friend again as soon as possible; if she was a natural follower, Morgana would much rather the girl follow her than Sirenia.

###

The next day Morgana sought out Amalla in the library - according to Merlin, that was where she spent most of her time. The girl was so engrossed in her reading that she failed to notice Morgana until she laid a hand on her shoulder; then she let out a startled squeak and jumped in her seat. "Relax, it's only me."

"Oh! Lady Morgana! I wasn't expecting . . ."

Morgana leaned over and closed Amalla's book. "I have thought of a way you could be helpful to me, if you're willing."

"Anything, my lady."

The younger lady's eagerness to please reminded Morgana of a dog she had once played with in the royal kennels of Camelot, until Uther had declared that a king's ward should not be crouching in the straw, letting dogs lick her face and put their paws on her fine dresses. She turned a chair so that it faced Amalla's, sat down and took both of her hands in a gesture of camaraderie. It seemed to work - though not expecting it, Amalla didn't pull away from Morgana's touch, and even seemed somewhat pleased. "There is a question I need answered. It's a private matter, so understand that if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone I will never forgive you for betraying my confidence."

Hazel eyes wide, Amalla nodded.

"I need to know if there is any way for a sorcerer to give up magic."

"Well, it depends on what kind of sorcerer we're talking about-"

Morgana sighed. "That historian who is supposed to be tutoring me said the same thing. The one question I asked him, and he was no help at all! I don't suppose you can at least tell me how many different types of sorcerers there are?"

"Only two, my lady: those who acquire magical skill through study and those who are born with it," Amalla said quickly, cringing at Morgana's sharp tone. "Of course all sorcerers are born with a degree of magical power, but there are some whose potential would never come to anything if they did not choose to further develop their mastery of magic. Then there are the ones to whom magic comes naturally - it's so much a part of who they are that not using it is impossible."

"I see. And which kind is Prince Merlin?"

"Um, from what I've heard magic comes as naturally to him as breathing - I think he first used it as a baby. Not that that's surprising; people say his mother had strong magic, but I don't know much about her. Queen Hunith died years ago . . . My lady, if I may ask . . . um, why are you asking me these things?"

"I only want to know more about the man I'm to marry. Since he has magic I felt I should try to understand it as well. Is that wrong?"

"N-no, of course not. But why do you, um, want to know if someone could . . . give up magic?" Amalla said the words as if they were something incredible, as if she couldn't understand why anyone would ever want to give up magic.

"It was just a case I heard my guardian mention some time ago. I can't recall the details," Morgana lied easily. However pliable her new ally might be, she wasn't foolish to tell any but her very closest confidant (Gwen) about her resolution to cure Merlin of his magic. "Although," she added slowly, frowning as if trying to call an elusive memory to mind, "now I think perhaps the sorcerer he told me about didn't choose to turn his back on his powers after all. I think I remember Uther saying he was stripped of them. Can that really be done?"

Amalla paled. "Stripping a sorcerer of their powers would require d-dark magic. Very dark. And, um, the sorcerer wouldn't survive. A person's magic is tied to their soul, and taking that away . . . even if they didn't die they would be damaged, um, badly. Lady Morgana, if you don't mind, can we, um, not talk about, um, Uther Pendragon's, um, experiments anymore, please?"

Morgana was disappointed but decided not to push the clearly terrified girl any further. "Of course. I'm sorry I upset you." Copying a tactic Gwen frequently used to comfort her after a nightmare, she held Amalla's hand and rubbed the back of it soothingly with her thumb.

Amalla gradually calmed down under her touch. Of course the tyrant Uther Pendragon was cruel enough to rip away someone's magic without caring what it did to them, but she couldn't fault Morgana for not understanding how brutal her guardian's actions were and being curious. Lady Morgana was so nice, and she was going to be queen. She could ask whatever questions she wanted.

"Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time." Morgana let Amalla's hand go and stood up. "I must go now, but I'm sure we shall see each other again soon."

Leaving the library, she started in the direction of her chambers, changed her mind and took a different turn. She didn't know where the corridor she was now walking down led, but as long as it was empty of other people she didn't care; what she wanted at the moment was to be alone, and to think. It had never occurred to her that losing his magic might hurt Merlin - hurting him was never her intention. I have always been taught that magic is evil, that practicing sorcery will damn your soul forever, and I wanted to spare him that, but if Merlin cannot live without his magic . . . What am I to do? Should I kill him? Could I bring myself to do it if it will save him from a life of darkness and corruption?

Finding a door in front of her, she automatically pushed it open and continued her aimless, restless wandering, which had just taken her out into the palace gardens.

"Lady Morgana!"

She had walked right past the subject of her thoughts. Merlin was kneeling beside the garden path, but when he saw Morgana he scrambled to his feet, casting a quick spell to remove dirt from the knees of his pants.

"Oh . . . Good day, my lord. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I'm picking some herbs for Edwin."

Merlin noticed that Morgana was very distracted, but she managed to focus on what he was saying. It seemed to cost her a lot of effort. "Why are you running the physician's errands?"

"I learn a lot from helping Edwin, so I don't mind. He doesn't like to go out much, because of the way people look at . . ." Merlin fingered his right cheek.

"How thoughtful of you," Morgana said, still in that tone that told Merlin her mind was somewhere else and she really didn't want to be here, talking with him.

"My lady, is something wrong?"

She forced a little laugh. "What could be wrong, my lord?"

As she looked at the man before her, Morgana's stomach felt as if it were turning itself inside out. Kind, caring Merlin, who did the work of someone meant to be working for him to spare Edwin the embarrassment of people looking askance at his scarred face, who was so genuinely pleased to see her - how could she ever raise a hand against him? How could she have entertained the notion for even a second? Whatever he was or was destined to be, Morgana suddenly realized that she could never willfully cause him any harm. If that meant she had to put up with him being a sorcerer, so be it.

"Lady Morgana, are you sure you're all right?"

Morgana insisted that she was "Fine, my lord," while cursing herself for letting her conflicted feelings show. Was her self-control slipping, or did Merlin just see through her that easily? "I'm sorry, I have to go." Turning back the way she had come, she all but ran away from him.

So there we have the end of Morgana's half-baked plan to 'cure' Merlin of his magic, which I had to make happen because it's hard to write a love story if one half of your couple is plotting to do in the other. Plus Morgana realized she never wants to hurt Merlin under any circumstances and came a little closer to accepting him, sorcery and all.