DISCLAIMER: If I owned all these great man I'd ……you know.

NOTES: THANX to all you reviewers and FLAMINGMUSHROOMZ for a good kick in my lazy butt! I feel very privileged that people are still interested in this story and I will try to update more often. Alas ..hardly any time to write since I took that new job where I am slaving away all day (even on freaking holidays grrrrrrrrrrrrr) There will be more chapters and this is just a setup for several things .

The Chapter Title is taken from a great book .

SHADOWS AND STRONGHOLDS

„So …you will leave? " Arthur asked, looking at her. When Morgianna had appeared in the hall to talk to him, he had almost thought he was looking at a ghost. Gone were the colourful garments and ribbons that had bedazzled his men just a few nights ago. Gone were the mirth and the carelessness that had made Morgianna seem much younger than her actual years. She stood in front of him now again in the ceremonial grey robes and cloak of the lady, shrouded in the power that station entailed. She was pale and her face, though showing nothing but her usual calmness, carried a hint of exhaustion and resignation. Several of the servants Venora had already taken into service to maintain order in the ever growing garrison had told tales of a woman wailing at night, crying and sobbing. But Arthur knew that the sounds had not come from his sister but the young woman who had travelled far to see her. As to why she was crying so persistently….his guess had been as good as any man's. Until this morning. Morgianna had explained that the beautiful Nimue had been groomed by her to take her place just like Viviane had once taught Morgianna….but something had changed all that. Something had made the young woman unfit for the position, something that Morgianna did not divulge. Neither had Merlin, but his stern face had spoken of his disappointment.

The pale light of morning falling through a window caught in his sisters long raven hair as she shook her head. There was the merest shadow of a smile in her face when she answered.

"No. I will not leave, I made a promise to my brother that I would not desert him and I will not be forsworn." She gave a sigh, watching Arthur . He was adjusting his position in the artfully carved armchair for what had to be the dozenth time. They were alone now, but before Arthur had told the servants and craftsman to leave, everybody had been busy working in what was soon to become known as the throne room. She knew her brother did not feel comfortable with this. She knew he still did not see himself as a king, even if he had taken on the responsibility of uniting the tribes and warlords under his banner, even if he felt obliged to protect all those who were now his. He had to learn to grow into the title, as Merlin had repeatedly told her. She had to help him; she had to ease his mind where his young queen could not. Whatever else came after that …Morgianna did not want to think about. He was her brother, her blood. She had not lied when she had told Lancelot that she would kill for him. A lifetime spent apart did not change her loyalties or her conviction.

"But you will retain your title…your authority?"

Morgianna nodded, giving her brother a serious look, willing him to understand. "There is no one else, Arthur. At least not now … the other girls I trained are too young. There is no one but me. Nimue will return to the sacred island and be my stadholder; my voice, my eyes , my ears behind the mists. I will remain here by your side as promised…if you still want me here under those circumstances."

Arthur would not give voice to his relief, but the thought of her staying, lifted a weight from his shoulders. He longed to have his sister near, more than he dared to admit even to himself. But it was not just the sister he was glad to have under his roof. The authority Merlin had among the Britons worried him, the length the druids went to in order to have their plans realised…having the lady of the lake on his side was an advantage.

"I need my knights, Morgianna. Their support, their steadfastness and their courage if I am to make this land whole ….if that is indeed my destiny. I will need their support and yours, for no one knows as much about these people as you do. But I also need my sister. After years of thinking she was dead, I would loathe to lose her again."

She smiled, looking at his face, before she took the hand he held out to her. "Then I will stay."

"Good." Arthur laughed, reaching for a goblet of wine on a tray nearby. "Then come and sit with me and tell me about this Marke of Tintangel I am supposed to meet."

For a moment Morgianna was overwhelmed with the smell of the sea, the call of hundreds of seagulls, Tristan's calm dark eyesand a stab of heartbreak so profound that she thought the feeling might tear her asunder. But in the space of a heartbeat the feeling was gone. She took a deep, calming breath, wishing not for the first time that it had not been Nimue's gift that had been spoiled, but her own. Her face showed none it, her features serene and unreadable as ever. She took a seat next to her brother, studying the letter written in formal Latin that announced Marke's wish to meet with Arthur in a few days time.

"Tintangel is the name of his stronghold. He rules the bigger part of Cornwall and as a lord he is well liked by the people." Morgianna smiled slightly, looking into her brother's eyes.

"I think you and your men will come to like him. He has Gawain´s sweet temper and can drink and curse like Bors. He can fight with the best of them, but he takes care of his people. You will find he might prove to be a steadfast ally, if you win him over."

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"I know that look." Venora said, putting downa plate heavy with freshly baked bread and cheese. She sat down next to Morgianna, who had been sitting at a table outside, silently watching the knights at the other end of the yard, soaking up the last warm rays of sunlight. Bors, Gawain and Galahad were immersed in some kind of contest which apparently involved hurling several lethal looking battle axes.

"Which one?" Morgianna returned softly, watching Nimue walk by the knights with a bucket of water. Gawain put down the axe he had been twirling and approached her with a bow, obviously offering to carry the heavy bucket for the young woman. After several exchanged sentences she relented, walking next to the knight with downcast eyes.

" The one you have been giving them all day…" Venora answered gesturing to the rest of the knights. "I know it well because it is the same look I will find in my own face at times, even I pass by a clear puddle or a bucket of water in the yard. Then I see it. You look at them with the worried expression of a mother hen fearing for her brood. Hardly surprising I guess…" she volunteered with a sigh. "…considering who you are. You've got to think of all of us as you kin."

Morgianna turned her head to look at Verona's pretty face, marvelling at the strength she saw in the woman's eyes. Venora had not had the easiest life; a mother of a whole brood of offspring by a knight who might have recognized all his children by her, but still had not found the time their mother. But she had grown into her new office managing the garrison's household with unexpected ease and success. Venora gave her an understanding smile as though she had read Morgianna´s thoughts in her serene face.

"You are the lady of the lake, the keeper of this land and I am glad, lady, that you have decided to stay." She said respectfully, nodding her head. "But Allmother doesn't have to mean, you have to be mother to all. Where do you go in times of need? You are a daughter yourself. Where do you go, when you need the reassurance of a mother?"

Morgianna could not help, but offer the other woman a sad smile. It was not often that her dilemma was seen and understood this clearly by another.

"Does Bors even know how wise a woman he fathered his children on?" she asked.

Venora scoffed, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. "Better not to let him know. It'll steal his sleep, poor man."

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Lancelot bit his lip, turning his back on the merry meeting in the great hall. The round table had been situated there and they had sat together and dined and drunkenly exchanged jests and war-stories like old times. But when all the candles had burnt down and the roaring fire in the fireplace had died down to glowing embers, Guinevere's slender shadow had lingered in the hallway, beckoning Arthur to come to bed. He bit his lip again, realizing how his feet carried him across the yard until he stood in front of her door. She would stay, Arthur had said. Lancelot did not know whether to be glad or angry. Still…this night he was not sure where else to go, even if he did not know what he was searching for. There was sadness in her eyes when she looked at him. The knowledge that she could not give him what he needed, the knowledge that he could not give her anything …

She was just as slender, but taller …more willowy than Guinevere. She opened the door, looking at him as though she had known …maybe she had. Lancelot found that he did not care. She was his ally, but a part of him could not help but see the enemy. She knew him so well and there was no reason, no way she could. He was angry at her, angry at himself …torn between the desire for a girl he had seen become queen and his love and loyalty for her husband, his best friend ….his king.

He hated her and he hated himself ….and she saw it all.

"Give me peace, Morgianna. I beg of you ….give me peace." Was all he said, whispered in a rough toneless voice as he fell to his knees, burying his face in the soft cloth of her dress. He fisted his hands into the fabric so hard, he thought it might tear any moment.

"I wish I could. Were it in my power …" He felt her hands on top of his head like a benediction. She stroked his hair with warm hands, almost like his mother might have done ….he could not remember.

"Do you know…" she whispered, her voice suddenly brittle like dry leaves, defeated and tired and filled with sadness. "Do you know what a burden it is to know and yet be unable to change the fate of those you love? Because the smallest thing altered might have already decided….everything?"

"Then why bother?" he asked, his voice rough with feeling. He could feel her shaking and looked up to find that she was laughing tonelessly, her face sad. "Because this is the way of the world, my role, my part …In this I have nothing to gain and everything to loose. Just like you."