Well, feel like I'm kinda losing my way a bit with this story so I'm going to give this chapter a go and if it works I'll continue but if it doesn't I might just cut my losses but if anyone has any thoughts let me know.

Chapter Three

This armour was never this heavy before, surely! The young queen grumbled to herself as she hefted the sword above her head for another swing. She grunted as the razor sharp tip made solid contact with the practice dummy in front of her. Beads of sweat were running a path down her aching back, every muscle screaming out in protest with each laboured movement. Morgana had been drilling for hours now. It was only after she'd started training she realised how out of shape she had become over the last few months! Swiping back the drenched hair that had matted itself to her brow she remembered the last time she had wielded a weapon; that dreadful day when she had been proclaimed the true and rightful heir to Camelot. Hindsight was indeed a wonderful thing. She still frequently berated herself, usually in the dead of night when everything else in the world had ceased its turmoil in favour of slumber but the queen herself lay awake; in all of her dreams and visions why had she not prophesied the end of the tale? Morgause had certainly known.

Holding back a sniffle that would have no-doubt led to yet more tears she dragged her fatigued form over to the stand that cradled her own personal collection of arms. Enough was enough. She called over her new serving maid, Gwen's replacement;

"Aelwyd...draw a hot bath for me will you?"

The small girl with honey-blonde hair and bright blue eyes gave a quick bob and scuttled off in the direction of the palace. She was a pretty young thing, reminding Morgana of the young girl that had been so faithful a servant to her older sister. The dark-haired woman smiled as she thought of the first time she had met Alastrine at Morgause's Castle.

The older witch was still recovering from the injury sustained the last time they had tried to take Camelot out of the grip of Uther Pendragon while the younger woman had been sneaking down to the High-Priestess' vast library. It was during one of these surreptitious visits that the shy hand-maiden first came to Morgana's attention.

She had been sitting in the wonderfully luxurious wing chair, upholstered with the most supple brown leather she had ever had the exquisite pleasure of touching. At her side a content blaze crackled, casting a warm glow across the pale wooden floorboards. A candle placed on the vast, richly-toned wooden reading table in front of her provided the only other source of light in the room. There were stacks of leather bound tomes piled high in every corner and on the desk...well, it may have looked a mess but Morgana had a system and it was working! She was sure of it...perhaps...

It was while lost in some volume of ancient charms that a light tap came from the dense oak door. At the witch's bidding the door opened and in-stepped one of Morgause's servants. Morgana had seen her before dotting about between the kitchen and the great hall but she knew nothing about the young slip of a girl standing before her who, at that moment, looked as though she wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

"Please ma'am, the elder mistress thought you might be hungry"

She had the accent of a girl from the countryside and there was a slight stammer in the girl's speech that somehow merely served to make her incredibly endearing. Though it hardly seemed so today there had been a time in Morgana's life when she, herself, had been as painfully shy as that. She nodded;

"Truth be told, I am a little but..."

The girl smiled as from somewhere behind the doorway she produced a silver tray amassed with various little treats and morsels. Morgana's bashful smile matched her own;

"Ah...well, yes. How did you know I was down here?" She thought she had been so careful when making her way down through the desolate corridors and stairways.

"The Mistress...the elder Mistress...well...she suggested you might be down here".

Once again the dark-haired witch was amazed by her sister's seemingly endless inner-knowledge. She wondered if she would ever attain that same level of intuition or would she be forever bumbling about in what she believed very average ability. She could never see within herself the skills that Morgause apparently saw in her. She remembered there was a serving girl in-front of her still awaiting some form of instruction;

"Why don't you sit down...em...err..." She cocked her head to the side, implying the question, embarrassed she did not already know the girl's name.

"Alastrine, Miss...and thank you Miss but I couldn't." she blushed as she set the tray down beside a pile of texts and parchments on the table, standing back, her eyes trailed down towards her feet. "Will that be all My Lady?"

Morgana absently nodded her dismissal. She supposed that it was not strictly proper to be asking servants to sit with her but she so desperately missed having someone to talk to. She could not remember ever feeling so lonely.

Still, she saw Alastrine several times afterwards and each time the conversations lasted just a little longer. Soon enough Morgana had managed to coax the shy maid out of her shell and found that she rather liked the nervous but entirely sweet young girl.

By the time she came out of her reverie Morgana was entering her chambers and found that her bath-tub had been brought out and placed in front of the fire, steam rising in delicate spectral swirls that made dancing patterns through the air. The now-familiar footsteps of Aelwyd came up behind her, almost presumptuously starting to remove her mistresses' armour. The plates came off easily enough under her nimble fingers but when she went to remove the Queen's hauberk the rings were stiff and unrelenting, much like the woman's body underneath it;

"My Lady, the mail does not come easily, you may need to lift your arms"

Morgana, who's mind had begun to drift once more snapped back into herself again. Obediently she lifted her tired arms and allowed the maid to remove the chain-mail coat. It had been Morgause's armour previously and though it had been a well-worn and decidedly battered she wore it as her own. As strange as seemed, as soon as the dark-haired witch had slipped the tattered metal guard onto her own body it fitted perfectly, as though the very essence of her sister surrounded her in a protective shroud.

Her skin flushed as she realised that it was the young maiden's fingers working over her own slim form that had made her mind wander. As Aelwyd removed Morgana's light linen shirt the only thing the Queen felt was shame. It was a betrayal of everything she had promised to Morgause...but it just felt so good to have some sort of human contact again. She had been dressed and changed by Aelwyd before but somehow this was different. Perhaps it was only the reflective mood she was in but somehow...somehow there was an intimacy, a familiarity that was not there before. She wasn't sure she liked it but the response of her body was entirely involuntary. She turned;

"Thank you Aelwyd, I can manage from here."

The young serving girl smiled awkwardly and gave a discreet bob, barely concealing the gaze of her eye over the lithe shape in front of her before making a swift exit. With that, Morgana, eased herself gently into the bath. Closing her eyes she pictured a face in front of her, a reserved smile made from narrow, pink lips. Looking along a line upwards she found a delicately sloping nose, framed with two very beautiful, penetrating gold-hazel eyes and the whole visage surrounded by shining blonde curls. She remember the calloused-yet-gentle hands that came with the face, the light, graceful touches the fingers imparted. As Morgana lay there in the warm water somehow her own fingers did not compare to the memory of a thousand earlier caresses. The heat of the bath could not slake the chills that racked her body when the sobs came crashing over her.

Later that evening as Morgana slid between the sheets her thoughts turned to the day ahead. Tomorrow would be the start of the tournament. How would she fare? Well, she had trained long and hard, what else could she do? Her eyes closed and allowed a fitful sleep to overtake her.

Merlin turned to his former master as their horses trekked along the expanse of dirt-track through the woods. They had been on the road for two days now and even the exuberant sorcerer had run out of things to say. Arthur was in one of his impossibly determined moods.

"Arthur, are you sure this is a good idea"

"Merlin for the one-hundredth time, yes and shut-up! Why the hell did I decide to bring you with me?" The former prince continued to mutter away to himself for the remainder of the journey. Gwen had elected to stay behind to supervise the building of Arthur's new project. Eventually it had come to light that the young warrior had elected to start some type of training school by re-using the already-ancient hill fort he had come across while stalking through his new territory. He had "conscripted" several locals to help re-build the ruined fortifications. In-truth, Merlin actually thought the "warrior training school" was a good idea- not that he would ever tell Arthur that but he still could not get his head around the young man's ridiculous plan of going to the Camelot tournaments. What was the point in recruiting young lads from the other side of the country when there were plenty of youths around the area they now called home? Mind you, Merlin had often believed Arthur had some sort of death-wish, now he knew it.

To be continued?