Title: Drowning In You

Rating: T

Pairing: Arthur/Morgana.

Summary: Someone is drowning young women in Camelot. With no motive and no suspects, Morgana must work out who the murderer is before she becomes the next victim…

"It's a Fossegrim. A water sprite. They lure young women and children down to lakes and then they drown them."

Morgana traced a finger over the illustration in the text - multiple shades of blue sketching the image of a young woman, very beautiful and very dead, floating in the middle of a lake. Beside her there was a ripple of concentric circles in the glassy still water where the demon had been, but no picture of the Fossegrim itself.

Bridget raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "A water sprite, Morgana?"

"Don't look at me like that. We have a drowned woman, and no witnesses, suspects or motive. It makes sense."

"It makes no sense," Bridget retorted. "So we have no idea who killed that poor woman, supposing her husband probably didn't. It doesn't suddenly mean that a mythical water demon killed her instead."

"You know better than anyone that mythical beings exist."

Bridget pursed her lips and shot Morgana a nasty look. "My family history has nothing to do with this. And you promised you'd never mention it."

"Sorry," said Morgana, genuinely apologetic. "But you have to admit a Fossegrim is a possibility."

"An extremely remote one." Bridget closed the book, and ran her hand over the leather bindings. "Tell me you're not planning on notifying Uther about this."

Morgana shook her head. "No. if you don't believe me, Uther certainly never will."

"Thank goodness you haven't gone completely mad."

"So what do we do?"

"We do nothing." Bridget fixed Morgana with a stern look and handed the book back to her firmly. "Not until you can prove your theory. Hopefully by that time the real murderer will have been found, and you can stop trying to use a book of folktales to pin blame on something that doesn't exist."

"Fine, don't believe me. I still know I'm right."

Bridget merely shook her head in exasperation as Morgana knelt back down to the floor to return the book under the bed into its hiding place. "Wherever did you get it from?"

"The Manuscript Archive, almost... almost thirteen years ago. Arthur and I snuck it out. I remember we carried it up here and looked through it." She pushed the stone back and dropped the book into the gap. There was a soft clang as it hit the spoon in there, knocking it against the stone. "Then my nursemaid came in and we had to hide it."

"Speaking of Arthur, have you two patched up your differences yet?"

Morgana felt the prickle of a blush creeping up her cheeks and was glad she was under the bed so Bridget couldn't see. Her friend wouldn't let her live it down. "Yes," she said mildly. "We're fine."

"Oh good," said Bridget brightly. "Then you won't mind that you two will be leading the dancing at the Feast on Saturday."

Morgana almost banged her head on the wooden frame shimmying out of her position. "You've done what?"

Bridget merely smiled innocently. "Put you two as leading the dancing at the Welcome Feast. Remember, Uther said he'd have one for my father, Thaniel and me? It's in two days time."

"But why are you in charge?"

"Because I like organising things, and you know Uther hates sorting out balls, feasts and social occasions in general." Bridget arched an eyebrow. "You seemed to have forgotten all about it, so I offered to do it."

"But to organise your own welcome feast?"

Bridget shrugged and spread her hands. "At least this way everything will be perfect and I'll be able to enjoy it."

"Which means there's going to be plenty of dancing doesn't there?"

"You know me too well."

Morgana smirked. "Arthur won't like it."

"Tough." Bridget flopped back on the bed, her voice flat and uncompromising. "Not only am I organising it, I'm one of the guests of honour. Your prince has to do what I tell him."

"Firstly he's not my prince," Morgana retorted, rolling her eyes. "And secondly, I think you've managed to grow bossier than you were when you were little."

"I've gone power mad," Bridget agreed deadpan. "But then, if you could order Arthur round you wouldn't hesitate for a moment. Just imagine him in chains, bent over scrubbing your floor, shirtless, his ars-"

"Bri- don't you dare finish that sentence. It's incredibly disturbing."

"So why are you blushing?"

Morgana hit her with her pillow.

"Gwen?"

There was no response from her maid, but then Morgana hadn't been expecting one. She'd been in a daydream all evening ever since returning from her day with Merlin, and Morgana had barely managed to get anything sensible out of her.

It was only as Gwen brushed her unravelled hair for the thirtieth time that Morgana realised her maid's mind was somewhere else completely. Her fingers reached up behind her and closed around the silver brush handle.

Gwen started. "My lady?"

"Gwen, you need to stop brushing my hair otherwise I'm not going to have any left soon."

"I'm so sorry," she blushed but Morgana waved away her apologies and shooed her out of the room, finishing up her toilette for herself. She'd just blown out the candle and settled into bed, when there was a knock at the door. The fleeting thought that perhaps it was Arthur made her stomach twist in nervous anticipation. Pulling on her most attractive wrap, she checked her hair and then nonchalantly opened the door.

"Oh. Merlin."

The poor boy clearly sensed her disappointment and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly with one hand, thrusting a small jar at her with the other. "Sorry, my lady. I forgot to give you your sleeping draught."

Morgana smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'd forgotten too." She uncorked the bottle and swallowed the contents in one go, her nose wrinkling.

As always, it tasted like old laundry.

She tried to distract herself from the horrible flavour that lingered in her mouth. "Did you have a nice time with Gwen today?"

Merlin blushed and nodded.

"Good, I'm glad."

She handed him the vial back but something made her pause. "Merlin, do you believe in water sprites?"

"Water sprites, my lady?"

She suddenly felt foolish but carried on. "Yes, naiads, mermaids, nixies that sort of thing."

Merlin hesitated and fiddled with the glass as if debating whether to tell her something or not. He suddenly seemed to come to a firm decision.

"I think it would be silly not to believe in them. After all the things that have attacked Camelot? Yes. I believe." He paused. "Why do you ask?"

She contemplated telling him about the book under her bed. About her suspicions.

Bridget's voice echoed through her memory.

She sighed. "No reason Merlin, I was just curious."

He nodded slowly, opened his mouth to say something, hesitated and then wished her goodnight before hurrying away down the corridor.

Morgana closed the door and then leaned heavily against it, her head in her hands.

A water sprite, Morgana? It makes no sense.

Maybe Bridget was right. Maybe it was ridiculous to think a water demon was the culprit. Perhaps she really was jumping to conclusions.

For the first time in her life, Morgana wished for guidance. Illumination. Some little clue as to what was going on and whether she was right.

With the taste of the potion still on her tongue, she wished for a vision.

They were having lunch the following morning when the news arrived. Uther looked up from his plate at the sudden knocking on his chamber doors and called out.

"Enter."

Two guards crossed the threshold, one of whom Morgana recognised as Sir Leon, the other- she noted with a small smile- kept glancing at Bridget, and was Sir Bedivere.

"Forgive the intrusion my lord, but you asked to be informed immediately if there was any change with Griffin."

"Well?" Uther prompted, as Leon hesitated.

"Griffin is dead, my lord," Bedivere said frankly. "The landlord of the Golden Boar found him this morning in his room. Hanged himself with his own belt."

Morgana suddenly lost her appetite. She pushed her plate away and reached for her goblet, swallowing a mouthful of wine.

Uther nodded gravely. "Thank you, you may go."

Across the table Bridget's eyes met Morgana's.

"Grief?" Bedworth reasoned.

"Or guilt," Uther frowned darkly. "Though of course we can assume nothing for now. I suggest we all finish our meal and try not to dwell on it."

"If you will excuse me," Morgana rose from the table, her face ashen. "I'm not hungry anymore."

An hour later found her stood on top of the battlements, one hand propping up her chin as she watched the townsfolk below her going about their everyday business. There was sudden movement beside her and Thaniel rested his elbows on the ramparts.

"It's a fine view."

She nodded. "On a fine day you can see the snow on the mountains, and sometimes a glimmer of the sea in the distance."

There was a beat of comfortable silence as they watched the people at the busy marketplace.

Thaniel ran his palm over the rough stone of the battlements. "Forgive me if this sounds presumptuous my lady, but... are you all right?"

"Of course."

"Morgana."

She sighed heavily and turned away from Thaniel's kind face and searching eyes. "No, I'm not." She sighed. "I just...feel helpless. Two people are dead and Uther seemed more interested in finishing his meal than doing something about it."

Thaniel smiled gently. "You care for these people greatly. You will make a fine Queen one day."

"Queen? I'm not going to be Queen," she replied lightly.

"Really?" Thaniel's brows lifted. "You surprise me. I would've thought you'd have wanted to be Queen of Camelot."

"That would mean marrying Arthur," she laughed. "I'm not sure either of us would survive such an arrangement."

"Morgana?" Arthur had stepped out from the door. "There you are, I was worr-" He caught sight of Thaniel and broke off, his mouth turning down ever so slightly at the corners. "My lord."

"Prince Arthur." Thaniel smiled. "Please, join us. Morgana and I were just discussing marriage."

Arthur's face stiffened and the look he shot Morgana was suddenly inscrutable. "I'll leave you to it then," he said flatly.

"No, Arthur I-"

But he had disappeared.

She turned back to Thaniel who stood their smugly. "What on earth possessed you to say that to him?"

He shrugged. "It was the truth."

"Yes, but he's taken it completely the wrong way."

His gaze sharpened, as though he knew all of her secrets suddenly. "And why do you care so much, Morgana? What's your interest in the matter?"

Her mouth shut audibly. "I..." She frowned at him. "I have to go and find him."

But Arthur was nowhere to be found, though she searched the castle thoroughly. His rooms were empty but he hadn't left as Phaeton was still stabled, and none of the stable hands reported seeing the prince. She collared Merlin and questioned him, but he hadn't seen his master since lunchtime. She even tried their old childhood hiding places- in the long gallery behind the suits of armour, in the bread rooms of the kitchens, by the rosemary and fennel in the herb garden.

There was no sign of Arthur.

And Morgana knew if he truly wished not to be found she would never be able to find him.

No matter how much she wanted to.

Bridget popped her head round Morgana's door sometime later.

"I'm going into town for some decorations for the feast tomorrow. Do you want to come with me? I know you love shopping."

Morgana shook her head and traced the grain of the wood on her vanity table morosely. "No, thank you."

"Are you feeling all right? You look upset?"

"I'm fine."

Bridget pursed her lips worriedly. "You haven't had another argument with Arthur have you? I thought you'd resolved all that?"

"Not an argument. A misunderstanding." Morgana shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"If you're sure," said Bridget slowly. "If you don't want to come, do you mind if I steal Gwen away from you? You're always saying she has excellent taste."

"Yes of course. Go on."

With one last look at her despondent friend, Bridget closed the door behind her.

"I think this one would suit you best. Morgana?" Gwen held up the beautiful peach sheer satin dress, flecked with tiny diamonds down a trailing sash that would cross under her breasts and flow back behind her.

"I've never seen this gown before." Morgana rubbed the thin material between her fingers. "I'll look like I'm wearing nothing."

"Lady Bridget bought it for you from the merchant at the market yesterday." Gwen smiled. "She said it was a present."

"Uther's going to have a fit if I turn up in this."

Gwen nodded. "Lady Bridget said much the same thing. That's why she bought it."

"Well, anything to antagonise my guardian and please my friend." Morgana took the dress and eyed the plunging neckline. "What's she wearing?"

Gwen flushed dark red and mumbled something about bedsheets and Sir Bedivere.

As it was, Bridget was simply wearing a dark green backless dress, her auburn hair (for once), brushed sleekly into a chignon and studded with jade hair pins.

"I was expecting bedsheets and strategically placed fig leaves. I'm disappointed," said Morgana as she kissed her cheek in greeting.

Bridget laughed. "Oh, so Gwen told you did she?" She motioned to Sir Bedivere who kept glancing over from the group of knights he was with and eyeing the large expanse of flesh Bridget's dress exposed. "I would have done, but Bedivere put his foot down and said no. Something about not wanting to cause a scandal." She rolled her eyes playfully. "He's such a stick in the mud sometimes."

"Morgana. You're looking particularly lovely this evening." Thaniel had walked over to join them at the entrance to the Great Hall. He turned and frowned at his little sister. "Bridget, you appear to be missing half your dress."

She shot him a look. "It's called fashion, brother. It's supposed to look like this."

"Really?" Thaniel ran a hand through his freshly washed black curls, the candlelight catching the tiny drops of water that still clung to it. "I thought you'd fallen out with your seamstress and she was having her revenge."

"Haha. At least I've made an effort."

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I should have sliced the back off my jacket, and then you would have been satisfied."

"Don't be silly," retorted Bridget, eyeing the black jerkin emblazoned with the three silver stars and stag antlers of the House of Dunheny. "Then the crest would have been missing and Father would have had your head, considering he gave it you."

"The hall looks lovely," interjected Morgana desperately, cutting through the squabbling siblings.

Bridget had done a wonderful job, she had to admit. The hall was festooned with brightly dyed banners and ribbons, hundreds of lit candles lined the walls, and the scent of incense rose from gold bowls in the corners of the room. "I thought you said you were only going to buy a few decorations?"

"These are only a few decorations." Bridget pouted. "I wanted to buy velvet cloth to cover all of the chairs, and I thought we could have had a water feature in one of the corners, perhaps with a small cherubic figure on top playing an instrument of some sort." She frowned. "But Father put his foot down."

"A fact that Uther's purse strings will always be grateful for."

Bridget stuck her tongue out at her brother as the musicians started up the opening strains.

Thaniel ignored her and offered his hand to the woman beside him. "Morgana?"

"I can't," she said regretfully. "Your sister's ordered me to dance with Arthur for the opening dance."

Thaniel bowed graciously. "Then I will claim the second."

She curtsied, even as Bridget began to tug her away. "Of course."

It didn't take long for the women to find Arthur. He was standing in front of the throne, beside Lord Bedworth and Uther, both of whom seemed to be slowly going red.

"I think your father's fighting the urge to have a fit," Morgana whispered as they drew closer.

"Not if Uther beats him too it." Bridget grinned. "I told you these dresses would be a hit."

"Lady Morgana, Bridget." Bedworth was turning the colour of his beard, which, it appeared, had been specially curled at the tip for the occasion. "What are you wearing?"

"Or not, as the case may be," Arthur drawled. As Bridget turned to argue with her father, Arthur uncrossed his arms, took Morgana's hand none too gently and led her to the floor.

"Let's get this over with." With a sharp jerk of his head the musicians began to play a soft lulling piece of music, and other couples began to slowly filter into the middle of the room, joining them in gently circling around the room.

The hand Arthur had placed at her waist would, in normal circumstances, have sent a pleasant tingle through her as the heat of his skin seeped through the thin material of her dress.

One glance at his face however, and all thoughts of romance flew from her head.

He would not look at her.

"Are we to dance in silence then?"

A muscle in Arthur's clenched jaw ticked. "What would you like to talk about?" He snapped. "The weather? The party? Your upcoming marriage?"

"Arthur, what Thaniel said yesterday-"

"I don't care," Arthur shrugged. "I don't particularly give a damn about who you marry."

Shocked, she nearly stumbled as they swept round the room. "Pardon?"

"I see you're more dense than usual." He sighed and rolled his eyes patronisingly. "I'll say it slower for you then. Who. You. Marry. Is. None. Of. My. Concern."

She stiffened in his hold, her fingernails making little grooves in his blood red shirt. "But I..." She swallowed, and masked the hurt in coldness. If Arthur found it so easy to admit he didn't care about her, then she certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his indifference pained her. "You're right, it's not. But it doesn't explain why you're so angry."

"Angry?" Arthur snorted. "I'm furious. But before you start it's not because of some misguided sense of jealousy." He laughed humourlessly. "No, it's because you had the gall to accuse me of meddling in your affairs by writing that letter. That I was practically forcing you into an arranged marriage with Thaniel. And then you accept his hand anyway."

She didn't even bother to correct him. "So that's what this is about. Your pride."

"And your shallowness. You didn't want him when you thought he was ugly. Then you find out he's God's gift to womankind and you can't keep away from him."

"I am not shallow," she hissed. "And you're smarting because for once there's someone here who can actually rival you."

"Please. I'm not the one with an inferiority complex. If I remember correctly, you were the one begging me to kiss you two days ago. You want everyone to want you."

The last notes of the music echoed round the hall, and loud applause cut off her reply.

He dropped her hands and bowed stiffly. "At last. Thank goodness that's over."

Morgana regarded him coldly and nodded, even as Thaniel made his way to her side, to claim his dance.

He touched her shoulder gently. "Is everything all right?"

Morgana glanced back over her shoulder, following Arthur as he stalked towards a table laden with goblets of wine. She turned back, and though her smile was large, her eyes were glittering hard diamonds.

"Yes. Everything's just fine."

The next five hours were the longest of her life. Though Bridget and Gwen made excellent company and she had danced often enough with various different knights, she couldn't help her treacherous eyes returning every time to the glowering figure in the corner, who nursed cup after cup of liquor.

Of course, by the time the bells began to chime the midnight hour and the servants were beginning to clear away, Arthur was slumped near unconscious in a chair.

Morgana sighed, torn between going to her bed and leaving him in his drunken stupidity, and putting her pride aside and helping him to his room.

She reached out for Merlin's arm as he passed her, carrying a tray full of half eaten pastries.

"We need to get him to bed."

Merlin cast a glance in his master's direction and nodded. "I'll be there in two ticks. Just, let me give this to someone."

He hurried off, and Morgana stalked over to Arthur, going on the offensive. She poked his shoulder roughly.

"Arthur."

He glanced up blearily at her and then back down again. "Go away."

"I'm not going anywhere. You need to go to your room." She reached out for his arm, prepared to help him up, but he frowned and tried to push her away.

"No," he slurred. "I don't want you."

Morgana swallowed past the brief stinging pain and tried again. "Arthur, we need to get you to bed."

He made a crude gesture. "So you can get into Thaniel's I s'pose."

She slapped him hard, leaving a bright red handprint on his cheek. "Don't ever say anything like that to me again."

"It's true."

Merlin's hand on her arm stopped her from smacking him again. "He's just drunk, my lady. He doesn't mean it."

"I do!" Arthur wobbled dangerously, and Merlin dashed to prop his master up. "I do- you're a lying, manipulative, who-"

Merlin clamped his hand over Arthur's mouth. "Honestly, he doesn't know what he's saying."

"I think he does," said Morgana, her fury suddenly boiling away, until she simply felt very weary. She rubbed her temples. "Merlin, take him to bed. I'll fetch one of the other servants to help you."

Snagging a strong looking serving boy she directed him over to the prince who was now slumped over Merlin, the young man struggling to hold him up.

She waited until the three of them had gone before leaving herself, Gwen following beside her, wringing her hands and wondering what on earth she could do to fix things between Arthur and Morgana.

"Did you have nice time?" said Morgana quietly.

"Yes," Gwen replied tentatively. "Lady Bridget's feast seemed to be a great success."

Morgana managed a lukewarm smile and was about to reply when they heard sudden voices at the end of the corridor.

"-another body sire. Another woman by the lake. We've put her in the physician's room."

The two women shared a look before hurrying down towards the conversation. They came to a halt as Uther and two knights Morgana couldn't place appeared round the corner, walking hurriedly in their direction.

"Morgana!" Uther frowned as he noticed her, "you should be in bed."

She eyed his own hastily donned robes and wondered if that was where he'd been himself, before being rudely roused.

"I'm coming with you." He opened his mouth to reply but she shook her head. "I'm hardly going to be able to sleep now, am I?"

"Fine," he said shortly, striding off in the direction of Gaius' chambers. "Becoming more and more like your father every day," he muttered. She didn't think she was supposed to hear.

"You can go if you like, Gwen," she said kindly, as she turned to follow after them.

The maid shook her head though. "I'm staying with you."

Gwen probably wished she hadn't come though, thought Morgana, as they gazed at the bloated body now puddling water across Gaius' table and onto the floor, the water creeping in ever wider circles out towards them. Morgana lifted the hem of her dress, and knotted the extra material so it hung above her ankles. Her shoes however, now stained with lake water, were a lost cause.

"Griffin couldn't have done this," observed Gaius, as he shut the woman's eyes and noted the necklace of dark bruises standing out from her pale skin. "She's only been dead a few hours, six at the most." He frowned. "I doubt he did the first one. Sire, this is beginning to look like a serial murderer."

"That information doesn't leave this room," warned Uther. "I don't want a panic among the people." He turned to the two knights who were still stood silently by the door. "Post extra men by the lake, and I expect hourly updates." He crossed his arms and looked back at the corpse, who, like Emily, was also smiling broadly, as though in death she'd been greeting a lover. "And someone find out who she is and why she was out there."

He passed a hand through his greying hair. "I suggest we all try and get some sleep if at all possible."

Morgana shared an incredulous glance with Gwen but nodded anyway.

As it was, there was barely time to change out of their clothes before the dawn bells began to ring out for Sunday Mass.

"Amen."

Morgana passed a hand across her face and then nudged Gwen sharply as her maid's head began to droop.

Gwen blinked and smothered a yawn. "Sorry, my lady," she whispered, sitting upright in her hard wooden pew.

Fortunately Father Markus finished the service minutes later, and the two tired young women rose from their seats, before trailing after Uther in leading the rest of the congregation out of the large double oak doors.

Just as she crossed the threshold into the cold morning light someone touched her elbow lightly.

"Oh. Arthur."

He looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable, though not bleary eyed as she'd expected. Clearly he'd had a double dose of the hangover potion Morgana had received earlier that week. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Morgana, I need to speak with you."

He glanced at Gwen, who bobbed a nervous curtsy and disappeared into the crowd exiting the church.

Morgana's expression became pinched. "I think you said quite enough last night."

"What I said-"

"Was rude, hurtful and completely unjustified." She crossed her arms and pasted on a sickly smile. "But it you have any more abuse for me, just tell Gwen and she'll be happy to pass on the message."

She turned to go. "Morgana." His hand closed round her wrist. "Please."

"No. I don't want to hear it." Her smile dropped, and he realised how weary she looked. "Leave me alone, Arthur." She shook his hands off her. "Just leave me alone."

Retreating to the relative safety of her room, she dropped to her knees and smuggled herself under the bed, reaching into her hiding space for Grimacre's Folktales. With the book on her lap and her back pressed up against the door against unwelcome visitors, she traced the book cover and then opened the book.

The pages immediately fell open at the passage on Fossegrim.

"Fossegrim," she read aloud, smothering a yawn. "Derived from the Old Norse 'nykr', meaning "river horse." A mystical water sprite. Lives in any source of fresh water. Plays or sings enchanted songs to lure young women and children to drown in lakes or streams, and as such loves music, song and dancing." The words suddenly swam before her, and she wiped her eyes, blinking quickly, the words coming back into focus. "Extremely dangerous to humans, there are only two..." She yawned again. "Two ways to kill a Fossegrim. The first is to call..."

Her head drooped forwards, her chin resting on her chest, as the night's activities finally caught up with her.

She was surrounded by mist. Cold, shimmering mist, as soft as baby's breath and sticky like cobwebs. It clung to her even as she tried to move forwards towards the glimmering light in the distance.

Suddenly three figures appeared in the light before her, two men leading a dark haired woman through a forest, one man holding a sword in his hand, his chainmail glinting in the sunlight and from his golden hair...

Arthur, she realized with a shock. And there was Merlin, casting wary glances at the woman in between them.

The woman, whose face was obscured.

She tried desperately to see, but the mist caught at Morgana's ankles. She struggled against it, but it held her fast.

And suddenly there was a dagger in the woman's hand. A brief sliver of deadly flashing silver.

She lunged for Arthur's neck.

"No!"

Morgana's eyes snapped open.

Please Read and Review!

A little review goes a long way, and keeps the fanfiction blues away :)

LOST: Arthur/Morgana fanfiction writers. Where have you all disappeared off to? Has there been some sort of community kidnapping project I've missed out on? Have all the other shippers intimidated you into silence? I haven't read a new story on here in what feels like weeks.

So this is a plea, from one writer to another. Sit down at a laptop, pick up a pen, tap at a typewriter, use a chalk and slate, chisel letters in stone, even using smoke signals are acceptable.

Just write something. Please.