Missing moment from episode 2.05, "Beauty and the Beast." You'll see what I mean, but it takes place before Merlin finds out Catrina's a troll, lol.

P.S. One quote is completely snagged from one of my favorite series, MWT's The Thief. :)

She turns a corner and finds him at the end of the hallway, perched on the window ledge as he eats a shiny red apple and peers out into the courtyard. The sight of him, the fading afternoon sunlight catching his dark hair, stops her for a moment.

And then she regains her senses and strolls toward him.

"Hiding from Arthur, are we?"

Merlin lifts his head, a quick smile coming to his face and crinkling his eyes as he notices her.

"And from Gaius," he laughs, "although not so much 'hiding' as . . . 'being remiss in my duties while still appearing to be ready for my next chore.'"

Morgana joins in his easy laughter. She hasn't really seen him these past few weeks, and she's forgotten how charming he can be.

"Well," she assures him, "your secret's safe with me."

He opens his mouth to mumble a thank you, but the words seem to get lost on his lips. A blush rises to his angular cheeks as he stares at the toes of his scuffed-up boots. She examines him unabashedly, reveling in the chance to take him in with no extraneous observers there to chastise her, and when she inhales a deep breath to steady herself, she can smell the pungent, tangy sweetness of the apple he's already half-eaten.

"That looks delicious," she says to break the silence.

Unbidden, a daydream of them picnicking in an apple orchard comes to mind, the sunlight shining as it hits his hair in just the way it does now.

"I'm sorry, milady. If I'd have known you were coming, I'd have nicked two apples from the kitchens," he tells her with a sparkle in his eye. "Would you like me to go down and nip one for you?"

She shakes her head. "That's all right. I think I'm perfectly capable of getting an apple for myself."

He grins. "Yeah, and I bet you don't even have to avoid Cook to get extra food. I bet he'd even offer it to you himself, and wouldn't chase you out of the kitchens with a broom like you were a stray dog."

Morgana chuckles at the thought of Cook, big and burly and gruff, wielding a broom as Merlin's lithe figure darts around the ovens with his plunder clutched in lean, thin fingers. But her smile fades slightly at the mention of the discrepancy in their statuses. To avoid further confusion, she clears her throat, takes a step forward, and follows his gaze out the window arch.

The sound of horses' hooves float toward their alcove as the king and Lady Catrina return from a ride.

"What do you think of her?" she asks curiously.

She's not sure what to make of Uther's sudden interest in this woman, but she's come to respect Merlin's opinion.

"I think she's wonderful," he replies, his voice a little too besotted for her taste.

"Really?" she asks, lifting a brow and looking over at him.

And then she recognizes the dazed expression on his face. It's the one he always wears when Camelot receives visitors. Pretty visitors, she's somewhat loath to admit.

This doesn't really surprise her, because Merlin is a country boy and she swiftly became accustomed to the way all the male servants go slightly foolish when they see a pretty face.

But (and it's rare moments when she will admit this even to herself) what bothers her most about Merlin's open admiration for all these women is that she's never once perceived him directing such a gaze at her.

She's never wanted for anything in her privileged life, and yet she finds herself longing for this boy's approval more than anything.

"Well," she says, dragging herself up to full height and offering a dazzling smile, "I best go claim my apple."

"Mm-hmm," he nods absently.

Realizing that she won't get any more sense out of him, she turns to go.

"Milady!"

Halfway down the corridor, she stops at the sound of his voice.

There's a pause, and then, "The kitchens can be a perilous place. Be blessed in your endeavors."

Fighting back a smirk, she murmurs, "Thank you, Merlin," before disappearing around the corner in a flutter of purple silks.

Her destination is not the kitchens, merely her chambers, but at breakfast the next morn, she finds she's lost her taste for apples.