Morgana smoothed out her dress and practiced her most demure look in the looking glass. She had tried demure as a young girl, but it had never really suited her colouring. She looked better in bold crimson than pale pink.
Lords Thano and Buri, the king's regents and uncles (and also cousins, which obscurely made Morgana feel slightly less disturbed about her former romantic designs on her own brother) had asked to dine with her that night. She could work her wiles on them, and if need be, bolster her formidable charms with a few discrete spells. Apparently Merlin had been performing magic right under everyone's noise for years, so why shouldn't she?
She assumed their wives would be present—but wives were really no obstacle. They always had the same imbecilic ideas about honour and justice as their husbands, and would encourage their husbands to help her out—if only to rid the kingdom of someone as beautiful as she was.
And she looked very beautiful tonight. She had borrowed a white dress from one of the regent's wives—she frankly hadn't bothered to learn their names—but the dress fit rather well, as it should. She had been ensconced with a seamstress all afternoon.
Morgana inwardly winced at the wasted time. Were these royals so sensitive they couldn't eat a meal with a woman who wasn't dressed as richly as they were? But no—they had been all consideration, and a normal noblewoman would have not felt herself without a bath and clean well-fitting attire.
Her hair was dressed in a rather young style that she had not worn in years—more to get the wives on her side than anything. If she acted younger than she was, she might get more sympathy.
A servant entered the room to guide Morgana to the dinner. She followed with slow, hesitant and wary steps. She knew that servants were likely spies for their masters. Gwen had always told her if she had seen a guest do something odd, and Merlin was certainly proof that some servants hid great gifts.
She must always be on her guard, until she had achieved her goal.
Her most demure smile was almost hid under her lowered head. Although the woman whose identity she had assumed was from a family of high standing, and used to greeting royalty, Morgana had made little Gena seem quite in awe of Nemeth, and the regents who ran it.
"There you are," one of the wives said, rising and taking Morgana's hands in her own. "My dress looks very lovely on you, Gena. We shall have to get you some other garments."
"Oh, please, you mustn't go to any trouble over me," Morgana said, trying to imagine what Gwen would say. "I am so very grateful to have found refuge, but I must return to my land. I need to go to Camelot, and report these foul deeds to King Arthur. If you could just entrust me with a horse, and perhaps a few guards to keep me safe—"
"My dear, I know you are anxious to return to your home and make sure your family is safe. But nothing further can be done today. Try to eat something," the other wife said.
Morgana really should have paid closer attention to their names.
Lord Buri looked at Morgana with sympathy. "I did hope we could learn a bit more about the nature of the attack on your home, that is, if you are feeling up to talking about it."
Morgana smiled tremulously, trying to look frightened at the thought of even speaking of the attack. She took a deep breath and began to speak, haltingly at first. "My-my younger brother has never felt a part of our family. He was the child of a second wife. H-he—oh, it's just too distressing," she broke off, allowing her eyes to fill with tears.
"Don't ask the poor child to go on, she's distraught," one of the women said.
"No," Morgana said, bravely through her tears. "I must. My younger brother Michael always felt he should be the heir, and he killed my eldest brother. It w-was s-so horrible, to find him so grey and l-l-lifeless."
"We know all about brothers killing each other to inherit," said Lord Thanos.
Morgana nodded. "I heard about your recent tragedy. My deepest condolences," she said.
"It means much that you would think of us, in this, your darkest hour," Lord Thanos replied.
"You've b-been so kind to me," Morgana said. She was lucky to have the skill of crying quite beautifully, or else the overall effect of her performance would have suffered. She knew tears only made her eyes brighter.
"What happened once your brother's body was found?" Lord Buri asked.
"We all knew who had k-killed him. He could barely contain his glee," Morgana said. She dried her eyes, making the quick decision that she had cried enough tears. She didn't want to cry constantly and become tiresome. "Somebody must have told Michael about our suspicions, or he had someone listening at the door. My sister and I had decided to send a trusted servant to King Arthur for help. When we awoke the next morning, the servant's head was on a pike in the courtyard."
"How dreadful," one of the women said.
"He confronted us in the great hall. My sister ran at him, attacking him in an effort to save me, and bid me run. I ran for I know not how long. I saw few people along the way, and I was too frightened to ask for directions in case they were bandits, or worse, looking for me. Before I knew what I had done, I had walked all the way across the border. I confess I did not mean to run this way; I meant to go to Camelot, however, had I known how kind you would have been, I might have set out this way on purpose."
"I suppose then you might have ended up in Camelot," Lord Thanos observed, and the woman sitting next to him, presumably his wife, glared at him in response.
Morgana was alarmed that he felt like making jokes about her situation. She rehearsed the spell she planned to use in her mind, hoping she didn't have to use it. She was an excellent liar, but she had very little experience preforming spells in front of people without anyone knowing about it. She had been far too afraid to do much magic in Camelot, and, since she had left there, had felt no need to hide what she was.
She was also quite aware that there was frequently someone looking at her at any given moment.
She tended to draw the eye.
"But I am glad you did not," he continued. "For now we have the chance to show you the true strength of Nemeth's army. You will not leave here with a few guards and run to King Arthur for help. We will storm your keep and ensure that this Michael follows his brother into the grave. Why, he might have killed you."
"I could not ask you to," she said, rather firmly for Gena. Her affection for her new friends, of course, was preventing her from taking their help.
"You did not ask, and there is no need for you to. It is our duty to help those who cannot help themselves," Lord Buri said.
Morgana felt tears in her eyes, possibly from the effort of repressing laugher. She smiled warmly, making them seem like tears of gratitude. "Never has Camelot had a truer friend," she said, drying her eyes with a handkerchief.
Later, in her room, when all the attendants had gone, she looked at herself in the looking glass again, amazed at the stupidity of her hosts. Well, she'd certainly seen Uther fall for the helpless woman act enough times.
She smiled smugly.
There had been no need to use any magic at all.