Author Note: Hehe, I'm mean :P...Just can't resist leaving little cliff hangers like that last one. And as for what Dante said about Arthur...well, I'm not going to say anything because then I'd give everything away, but put it this way. It is possible to like (or even love) someone and hate them at the same time. And that is what Dante and Arthur have right now. A love/hate relationship. Only time will tell which way the relationship will go, however, so you'll have to wait and see mwahahah.
So as always, enjoy, and don't forget to keep those reviews coming :) xx
...
Winter had well and truly set in across the kingdom and despite taking less than half the time a normal person would take to recover from such wounds, it had still taken Dante two weeks to become fit enough to be up and about without hindrance once more. She'd been to see Gaius only that morning in fact, to be declared 'healed and healthy' by the physician, who'd also told her that had Gwaine not resorted to magic, she'd not be standing there today. Anyone lucky enough to even survive such a wound would then have taken the best part of the next two years to recover, let alone the next two weeks. He also advised Dante to still take things easy, because there was no knowing if the magic would wear off at any point.
Dante had promised the old man she'd be careful, and she meant to keep that promise...sort of.
But when Morgana sent her a secret message, disguised as a love note from an 'admiring knight' called 'Sir Gromana' she could not disobey and knew that she must answer the call of her mistress. Still, she decided it would probably not be wise to take a horse this time, in case she truly was not up to the task of riding again just yet. After all, how would she explain to Gaius how she'd ripped the scar open, without raising his suspicions? As a Lady of Camelot, she was supposed to do little more these days that sit in on official meetings, advise Gwen on what fashion to style on each particular day, turn up at banquets and feasts and just generally look important. Nothing too strenuous. So ripping her chest open would require something physically challenging, like riding a horse - or in her case, falling from said horse. And nobody in their right mind would even dare to ride a horse in this weather anyway. She would have no feasible excuse and the old physician would know that something was going on.
No, she needed to be very careful, and not push herself too much. So riding was out of the question. But walking was not. It wasn't far to Morgana's hut. She could walk there, stay a few hours, then walk back again and still be tucked up in her warm bed again well before sunrise.
So that was exactly what she decided to do. She waited until night fell and the entire castle was asleep, then she slipped out into the bitter snow covered winter wonderland, pulling her fur lined hood up against the blizzard that was awaiting her outside the warmth and comfort of the castle walls.
Setting out confidently, she had no need, for once, to fear that anyone would be following her. After all, not only was the blizzard covering her tracks almost as soon as her foot was lifted off the ground, but only a fool would be out in this weather in the first place. And yes, Dante would be the first to admit that she was indeed a fool.
But even so, Morgana had called. And like a good little servant, Dante would answer.
However, half an hour later, she was regretting this particular decision, because the going had become harsh and bitter underfoot, the increasing snow making it difficult to travel at any sort of fast pace. Her feet, even wrapped in several pairs of socks and tucked inside thick leather boots, were numb from the cold and heavy as lead, her gloved hands, wrapped about her beneath her thick cloak, felt like blocks of ice, her eyes had started to water from the chill wind that had picked up and the tears had literally frozen onto her cheeks. She was also shivering so violently that she was amazed the entire kingdom could not hear her teeth clashing together.
The blizzard also made visibility a near impossible task, and she hoped and prayed that she was even travelling in the right direction at all. Finally she stopped and looked all about, wrapping her cloak even tighter around herself and trembling violently. She glanced back at the castle in the distance and was seriously debating whether to turn round right there and then, when a black wolf emerged from the snow, some way ahead, and stared at her with its eerie green eyes. Dante knew immediately that this was no ordinary wolf. It was a creature of magic - the fact that it did not leave footprints in the snow, and its breathing did not elicit clouds of steam being the most obvious indicators of this.
But despite everything, she was not scared. Instead she stared back at the wolf with a sense of awe. Only a very powerful wielder of magic could conjure such an impressive and magnificent creature, and Dante knew of only one person around these parts with such magic.
The wolf looked pointedly at her, then turned and walked away a few paces, before glancing back again. Dante nodded, put her head down and followed, recognizing that the magical creature wanted her to follow it. Perhaps Morgana had somehow known that the snow would make navigation impossible, and sent the creature to help her acolyte. Or perhaps it was just a figment of Dante's imagination and the wolf was not even real.
Whatever the explanation, when Dante finally came across Morgana's hut and the wolf vanished into thin air, she breathed a huge sigh of relief, puffing out a great cloud of steam in the process. Then, reaching out a violently shaking hand, she wrapped on the door as hard as she was able, given the numbness in her fingers, and waited.
After a moment, the door slowly creaked open and she stepped inside, throwing back her hood and shaking the snow from her drenched hair. The hood may have sheltered her from the worst of the blizzard, but it had done little to prevent the melting snow from soaking through the material and fur and inevitably soaking her as well. She was well aware of what a state she must look right then, as she dropped to one knee, freezing cold, shivering violently, covered in melting snow and barely able to get her voice going.
"M...m...my la...lady..." she rasped, forcing herself to be extremely careful that she did not accidentally bite her tongue or cause herself similar damage in the process, considering she could barely feel her face now, either.
The relative warmth of Morgana's hut had yet to actually touch her, even though there was a roaring fire in the open pit in the centre of the room and thick drapes over the windows to block out the worst of the drafts.
"Rise," Morgana spoke from her chair beside the fire, and her tone was surprisingly gentle and sympathetic as she moved a second chair out with her magic, motioning for Dante to join her.
Dante sank into the chair, her muscles screaming in protest after the marathon trek which had taken much longer than she'd at first assumed, and it took her several moments to actually do anything other than shiver and hug herself. Slowly, however, the warmth of the fire began to bleed through the ice cold that she felt all over - though not quickly enough for her liking.
Morgana sat and watched her acolyte struggling to even breath through the tremors. Eventually she rose, taking a blanket from the end of her bed and removing Dante's soaked cloak, she replaced it with the much warmer and drier blanket, wrapping it round Dante's shoulders. She tossed the cloak to one side, intending to deal with it later.
Dante wanted to speak, to thank the witch, but she couldn't. Morgana merely smiled in understanding, then moved back to the fire, gathering a few items on the way. Dante watched curiously as her mistress began to brew something in a small metal pan. When the liquid, which smelled strongly of sugar and honey, came to the boil, Morgana spooned some of it very carefully into a goblet.
Before giving it to Dante, however, she held a hand over it and muttered an inaudible incantation - her glowing eyes the only indication that she'd even done anything. Then she handed the goblet to her acolyte.
"Drink," she instructed kindly, patting Dante's trembling shoulder as the young woman tried to hold the cup. But her fingers were numb and she couldn't stop shaking, so the cup went crashing to the floor, long before she'd raised it even halfway to her lips. She looked at Morgana, horrified, but Morgana only smiled again in sympathy, spooned some more of the brew into the goblet again and repeated the enchantment. Dante felt like a helpless child, but there was nothing she could do. A quick glance down at her hands as she tried to pull off the freezing leather gloves sent a chill down her spine, and not because of the cold for once. Well, partly...
Because beneath the leather, her hands were blue! Literally blue!
Dante had known cold in her time, but never like this.
Morgana placed her own hand over Dante's as she crouched in front of the chair. Then she held up the goblet for Dante to see. "You're slowly freezing to death," she explained in a very calm manner - the way a mother would explain something to their sick child. "You need to warm up again. This will help."
"S...s...sorry, I d...dropped it..." Dante stuttered, but Morgana shook her head.
"No apology necessary. Now drink this. You'll feel much better."
She held the goblet gently to Dante's lips, and Dante took a few measured sips. The liquid burned her throat and her dry, rasping cough made Morgana laugh, even as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. When she was able, however, Dante laughed with her, the enchanted brew already working wonders to heat her from the inside, out. Slowly, she could feel a tingling in her fingers and toes, as sensation finally began to filter back, through the cold.
"Better?" Morgana asked after a moment, sitting back in her own chair.
"Much. My thanks, Mistress," Dante agreed, nodding in earnest. As she continued to sip at the weird sweetened substance in the goblet, wondering what exactly it ACTUALLY was, Morgana studied her curiously.
"What have I done to deserve such loyalty from you, Lady Dante?" she asked eventually, sitting up in her chair a little.
Dante paused for a moment, took one more sip of the liquid, then sat up a little straighter herself, doing her best to fix her frozen face into a look of confusion as the droplets on her cheeks finally melted and dripped down into her collar. "How do you mean, My lady?"
"Well, I ask you to jump, you ask how high," Morgana replied matter-of-factly. "I say that one of my plans may very well kill you, you are not phased. I tell you that walking into that village with Arthur and the knights will be the death of you and again, you do not hesitate. I ask you to brave the worst storm Camelot has ever known, just two weeks after you were stabbed, and again, you do so without question. Anyone else would have made excuses."
"But I am not anyone else," Dante replied, her voice coming more naturally now as she slowly warmed beside the fire.
"And that is why I ask. What have I done to deserve your loyalty?"
For a long time it appeared that Dante would not answer, but eventually she sighed and set the now empty goblet on a nearby table. "You saved my life."
"I've saved a lot of people's lives, believe it or not," Morgana replied with a wry smile, obviously intending this to be some kind of joke. But Dante could very much believe it to be the truth and found no humour in the statement.
"Yet none of them," Morgana continued, sitting forward again now as she studied Dante, "have ever shown such loyalty to me in return, save only for my sister. Morgause and I shared a bond of love...of blood. You and I share no such bond. So there must be more to it."
Dante sighed again, squinting her eyes shut for a brief moment against the sudden headache that had decided to very conveniently attack. Then she looked back to Morgana, who was still waiting, expecting an answer.
"It is hard to explain, exactly," she said at last. "I guess...you could say, you are the only one who's ever truly seen me for who I really am. Everyone always just sees me as a stuck up noble, or a rich kid, or a fancy trinket they can display on their arm. Even though it was all a trick, Lot saw me as nothing but a slave, and he treated me as such too."
Morgana laughed slightly at the bitterness in Dante's tone then. "You're never going to let that go, are you."
"The man's a pig, My Lady. He needs bringing down a peg or two."
"And in time he shall be. I have not forgotten that he almost stole you from me, and mark my words, he will pay with his life. But let's not make this about him. You were saying, before that...?"
"You are the only one who's ever seen me for who I am, and not who I'm pretending to be. Even here in Camelot, Arthur and Guinevere see me as an ally, nothing more. Arthur didn't hesitate to declare that I should be allowed to die, after I was stabbed, and even though he believes I have forgiven him...I haven't. And then there's the others. I get the feeling Merlin is suspicious - and rightly so - whilst Gaius thinks I'm just a spoilt little rich girl who cannot handle herself in the big wide world and needs to hold someone's hand constantly. Even the other knights see me as a silly little girl, too out of her depth, and struggling to stay afloat. Gwaine, perhaps, is the exception. But even then I wonder if he sees me as anything more than a prize to be won, or just a pretty face...Does he really know the true me?"
Morgana sat quietly as Dante spoke, listening intently, a small frown beginning to crease her brow as Dante's words sunk in.
"You are frustrated that you must hide your true self from the world," she said eventually, nodding in understanding. She could relate to that feeling very well, after all - having been there once herself. Now, however, she was free to just be herself and not have to hide her magic and her abilities.
Dante sighed and nodded. "I just want to be myself," she said quietly as she shivered again and wrapped the blanket tighter about herself. "And with you, I can be. But back there..."
"I know," Morgana nodded gently, standing and patting Dante's shoulder again as she moved to the fire and muttered a spell to make the dying flames leap higher again, casting the dark room in a strangely comforting orange glow of warmth.
"It is good to see you up and about again. I was worried about you."
"Thank you for your concern, Mistress," Dante replied, truly touched. Morgana must care for her a great deal more than she'd ever imagined, and this surprised her. "I am already feeling much better. Though that tonic of yours has also helped greatly"
"What good is magic if you cannot use it," Morgana shrugged, turning away.
There was a moment of silence then, as she hung Dante's dripping cloak from a line that hung near one of the windows. Dante reached out to the fire then to warm her hands, glad that finally they were beginning to return to their natural colour once more. And then a thought struck her.
"With all due respect, My Lady...why did you call me here tonight?"
Morgana paused and thought for a moment, then shrugged. "To be honest, I wasn't even sure you'd come, given the storm."
Dante wanted to reply to this comment, but a sudden yawn caught her off guard. Morgana chuckled - a humorous little laugh that was so uncharacteristic of her these days. And that one sound warmed Dante more than any fire or magical brew ever could.
"You should get some rest," the witch told her eventually. "Everything else can wait. It's not urgent."
"But...what if someone notices I'm missing?" Dante suddenly cried, realising that she'd perhaps overstayed her welcome. "How will I explain my absence?"
"Don't worry about a thing," Morgana soothed, taking the empty goblet and refilling it with the last of the brew from the pot, then pressing the goblet back into Dante's hands again. "I promise you will be back in Camelot long before anyone even notices you are missing. Now just sit back and rest for a while. The last thing you need is to aggravate that wound again."
Dante winced as the pain of each and every injury she'd acquired over the past month finally decided to make their presence known once more, sending a fireball of pain shooting through her entire body, starting at her head and not stopping until it had reached the tips of her toes. All the time she'd been frozen, she'd not felt any pain at all, and it had been something of a relief. Now that she was warming up, however, the pain was returning with a vengeance, and she didn't know what was worse. The only part of her that did not hurt, ironically, was the stab wound to her chest. But then, whatever magic Gwaine had employed must have done its job well, and for that she was grateful. Shame it hadn't been able to heal some of her other scrapes and bruises.
Gritting her teeth for a moment and squeezing her eyes shut until the fresh wave of pain had passed, she drank the rest of the contents of the cup in her hand silently and watched Morgana potter around the hovel, doing things. What she was doing, Dante wasn't sure. And neither did she care. Because very slowly, her eyelids were growing heavier and she could feel her whole body relaxing. Not having the energy left to fight it, she eventually let the exhaustion claim her tired body, and slid into a deep and peaceful sleep.
The soft clattering of an empty cup falling to the floor alerted Morgana and she spun on the spot, fearing something had happened. When she saw that Dante had fallen asleep, however, and the cup must have fallen from her hand, she relaxed and sighed, picking up the cup and setting it back on the table.
Then she took another blanket from a cupboard in the far corner and draped it over Dante's unconscious form. She looked so peaceful as she slept - so innocent and naive - that whatever bitterness Morgana felt towards the world in general melted away as she watched the young woman. She'd never felt this way about anyone else other than Morgause and Mordred and - back in the old days, Arthur too. It was a sense - a desire, even - to protect. To care for, and look after.
She wanted to look after Dante like a mother would care for a daughter, or two sisters would care for one another...perhaps, given Dante's age, the latter would be the more appropriate description, but the feeling was the same, no matter what.
And seeing Dante so helpless - so vulnerable...it had touched something deep within Morgana. Stirrings of her old self began to filter through the anger and the bitterness...the old Morgana, who had been kind and compassionate and caring.
Shaking her head and telling herself that she was just imagining things, she set about drying Dante's cloak and brewing some more of the sweet tonic for Dante to take back with her. Then she paused as the door to her hovel opened again and a cloaked man stepped through, having to bend his head slightly to fit through the door.
"You're not welcome here," she told him curtly as Lot removed his cloak and moved to the fire to warm his own gloved hands.
"As charming as ever," he replied, believing for the moment at least that Morgana must have forgiven him, seeing as she had not made another move against him in the past week. His wounds were still raw and painful, and he limped heavily, but otherwise he was back to his usual arrogant self.
Glancing into the chair by the fire, he paused, stunned. "She's alive?"
"No thanks to you," Morgana growled.
"How many times must I tell you, it was a mistake. You were not clear enough in your intentions concerning her."
"Then let me make them clear to you now," Morgana hissed, thrusting her hand out and throwing him back against the far wall of the hovel. "Even so much as touch one single hair on her head and so help me Lot, I will kill you where you stand."
As he dragged himself painfully back to his feet again, blood dribbling down the back of his neck, she crossed her arms and glared fiercely at him. "Is THAT clear enough for you?"
"What's going on, Milady?" Dante asked sleepily, having been woken by Lot's loud collision with the wall. And then she saw Lot and leapt to her feet, fists clenched angrily as she searched all about for some sort of weapon.
Lot, despite his pain, barked an amused laugh, even as he drew his own sword. "Go ahead little one, give me an excuse to end your miserable life."
"Was I still not clear enough?" Morgana snapped, stepping between the pair of them.
"Oh you were crystal clear," Lot nodded, advancing on the two women. "I just chose not to believe you."
"Then believe this," Morgana once again threw out her hand to send him flying backwards, but this time he was prepared and swiped at her extended hand with his sword. It was only Dante's quick thinking as she dragged Morgana backwards that kept the witch's hand attached to her arm.
Then she reached for the white hot iron that was resting in the fire and held it as if she were wielding a sword, now placing herself between Lot and Morgana. When his sword came down, she blocked it with a shower of sparks that he had not been expecting.
"ENOUGH!" Morgana roared, knocking both weapons from their hands with another wordless incantation. "NOW SIT!"
Two chairs were brought forwards suddenly, crashing into both Lot and Dante's knees from behind and causing their legs to buckle as they both collapsed into the chairs.
"Here's how it's going to work," Morgana said then as she began to pace before the two chairs - set far enough apart that neither occupant could reach the other. Though this didn't stop them from glaring at each other with looks of utter contempt and hate.
"Dante will return to Camelot UNHARMED and continue her role inside the castle walls. Lot, you will return to Essetir and find out all you can about these invaders. I want to know who they are. I want to know their numbers, and I want to know their intentions."
"Invaders?" Dante asked, momentarily distracted from her glaring as she looked back to Morgana again.
"Nothing to worry yourself about yet," Morgana sighed. "Some ships have been sighted off the East Coast, and there's rumours beginning to fly. I want to know what we're dealing with before we start to jump to conclusions and worry ourselves."
She's sounding like a Queen, Dante thought to herself, smiling inwardly, even as she frowned in concern. "Should I tell Arthur? I hate the guy, but he has a right to know..."
"And how would you explain how you came by this information?" Lot snapped. "Think, you stupid girl."
Dante launched sideways out of her chair, intending to wring his neck with her bare hands, when Morgana caught her shoulder and pushed her back, away from him. She sank back down into her chair once more, with a petulant frown similar to that of a child who wanted nothing more than to beat seven bells out of the sneaky git beside her, who was getting her into trouble.
"Lot's right," Morgana told her, playing the role of mother in this particular argument. "You are supposed to be in bed, back at Camelot. How would you explain how you came by this information?"
"I...I can't just sit back and do nothing, though," Dante protested, seeing her point.
"And we may just be jumping at shadows," Morgana explained. "Until we know what the danger is, we have no need to worry."
"So go back to playing Princess with your Pendragon King, like a good little girl, and let us grown-ups do all the work," Lot sneered, once again causing Dante to try and throw herself at him.
"No, Dante," Morgana told her forcefully, once again holding her back.
"At least let me rearrange his face a little, please? He's ugly enough that no-one would notice!" Dante protested, as Lot laughed behind Morgana's back.
"And have you ruin those knuckles? How would you explain THAT to Arthur, as well?" Morgana reminded her. "Think about this Dante. You need to be very careful about your actions, and the consequences of them. Remember that pendant I gave you?"
"The water droplets symbolising my actions," Dante nodded, pulling said pendant from where it had been tucked safely out of view beneath the folds of her clothing.
"Exactly. Now, go back to Camelot and act as if nothing has happened. I will inform you again when we have information."
Taking this as her cue to leave, Dante rose with a sigh and took her now dry cloak from the back of the chair where Morgana had left it. Then, as she passed Lot, she kicked out with all her might, catching him on the shin with a hefty boot. He howled in pain, clutching his leg as Morgana tried to hide her smirk.
"Oops, sorry," Dante said to the King, not sounding sorry at all.
And then she was gone, back into the white wilderness, with Morgana's flask of warming tonic tucked into one of the inner pockets of the cloak.
"Are you going to let her get away with that?" she heard Lot roar as she pulled the door closed behind her. Lingering to hear Morgana's reply, she grinned when the witch said, "You deserved it. You did stab her, after all."
Then she started off back for Camelot, her foot beginning to ache now. But it was a good ache. A satisfying one.
Lot deserved more than a boot to the shin, but Morgana was right. She had to be careful now.
...
When she finally reached her bedchambers some time later, dawn was on the horizon and she knew that the castle would be stirring itself soon. Drinking the tonic and stoking the fire to warm herself and her room as much as possible, Dante was about to change out of her clothing into her nightgown when she saw a small folded scrap of paper sitting on her pillow.
Unravelling the scrap, she saw familiar neat writing, written in emerald green ink.
You are wrong about Sir Gwaine believing you are just a pretty face, or a prize to be won. He has proven himself a most worthy ally to you, was the only one to fight for you when everyone else had given up, and were it not for him, you would be buried in the vaults of your father's estate with your ancestors right now. We both owe him greatly for not giving up on you, so if you still desire, he may now enter your circle. But do not let your personal feelings for him get in the way of our cause. Remember, he may well have saved your life once, but there is no guaranteeing that he will do it a second time, if he knows that you and I are in league, conspiring against his king.
Morgana
Dante smiled in delight as she read the small scrap three more times just to make sure she was not imagining the words in front of her, then screwed it up and burned it in the fire. Things were finally starting to look up, for her.
And this good mood only continued to improve when she was called down to join Arthur and Gwen for breakfast a few hours later.
...
"Dante, glad you could join us," Arthur beamed as she walked through the dining hall door which one of the guards was holding open for her.
"Good morning, Your Majesties," she said formally with a slight bow of her head.
"Don't look so worried," Gwen added from her place to Arthur's right. "We have good news."
"I'm just a little surprised to be summoned like this...that's all," Dante told them both as she took the seat which Merlin very kindly pulled out for her. Then as she made herself comfortable, he poured her a drink of iced milk sweetened with honey, grinning like an idiot.
She watched him curiously as he worked, trying to figure out what he was hiding. Then she looked to the King and Queen. Something was definitely going on, but she honestly didn't have the faintest idea what it could be. This was, after all, the first time she'd been asked to dine with the King and Queen since her arrival in Camelot a few months previously. Usually she ate alone in her room, or with the other Lords and Ladies on their tables at feasts and banquets. Occasionally she'd entertain a guest or two in her chambers, and sometimes she'd invite Kahlee to join her. But never had she been invited to dine alone with the Royalty of Camelot before.
"Might I inquire as to the occasion?" she asked as another servant placed a huge plater of breads, fruits, cold meats and cheeses in front of her. Gwen and Arthur had been served the same sometime earlier, and Arthur was already half way through the contents of his plate, whilst Gwen had nibbled a few crusts of bread and half an apple so far - choosing to take her time over her meal, unlike her husband.
"The men from Ealdor are returning today, and they're bringing a special guest with them," Arthur explained, before he bit into a chicken leg, biting off slightly more than he could chew. Unable to talk with his mouth full, he looked pointedly at Gwen, who took up the explanation on his behalf.
"Merlin's mother Hunith has been elected as spokesperson for the village," the Queen explained, glancing at Merlin as he refilled her cup. He'd returned only that morning himself, and must have arrived back at the castle just after Dante. He'd been the one to inform Arthur of what was going on in the village, and that his mother was returning, so at first Dante assumed this was the reason for his continuous grin, and the bounce in his step as he walked.
"A spokesperson?" she frowned now, finally taking her eyes off Merlin and looking back to Gwen and Arthur - the food on her plate remaining untouched. She still hadn't recovered her appetite completely since the whole ordeal, and could barely force herself to eat anything at the best of times. This was not one of those times.
"The villagers were very grateful to us for their rescue," Arthur said as he was finally able to speak once more. "They thanked my men and I in person, back at the village. But as you and the other knights were not present at the time, they felt it only fair that someone should come to Camelot to thank you in person, also."
He bit a large chunk out of a bread roll and left Gwen to do that talking once more.
"As Hunith has the best 'relationship' with us here in Camelot, she's been chosen to come and give the thanks. She's expected to arrive sometime this morning, so there will be a ceremony this afternoon to honour your service to her people."
"My service?" Dante asked, even more confused now. "But I didn't do anything. Unless getting yourself stabbed by a madman is anything to be proud of?"
"There is no shame in what happened to you," Gwen protested. "Besides, you have done so much more than you probably realise. You've shown everyone that you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else runs away, or turns a blind eye. And for that, you deserve our gratitude."
"Right," Dante scoffed. "When everyone else runs that way..." she pointed to her left, then turned and motioned to her right with her thumb. "I run that way."
"As Gwen said, that is nothing to be ashamed of," Arthur protested with a shrug. "It shows you have courage."
"I don't have courage," Dante shook her head. "I'll be the first to admit I'm not brave at all."
"Bravery and courage are not the same," Arthur shook his head. "Bravery is being bold and fearless in the face of danger. Courage, on the other hand, is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."
Dante sat quietly contemplating this for a moment as Arthur took another bite of his roll, watching her work everything out in her mind. When he was satisfied that, for the moment at least, she could come up with no more protests, he turned to look for Merlin.
"Merlin, the parchment?" He said, doing his best not to spit breadcrumbs everywhere as he spoke. Merlin reached into his jacket then and pulled out a roll of parchment, sealed with Arthur's official seal. He handed it to Dante, who stared at it suspiciously for several seconds as if expecting it to spontaneously combust in her hands, before eventually breaking the seal and unrolling the scroll.
"That's your script," Merlin told her with a grin. "Of what you need to say and when, during the ceremony."
"But...I don't understand," she started to protest, even as she read through what had been written. And then her eyes picked out two words. First Lady. Her head snapped back up and she gasped in surprise. Gwen grinned.
"NOW do you understand?" The Queen asked, and Dante could do nothing but nod.
"I...I don't know what to say..." she stuttered.
"Say yes," Arthur shrugged as if the answer were simple, even as he reached across to her plate and helped himself to a few of her grapes. "What's so hard about that?"
"It's a big responsibility, Arthur. Are you sure?"
"I can think of no-one better," the King nodded sincerely. "You've earned it."
"I...I don't know how I..." Dante started again, looking down at the paper. Arthur's face fell as he realised that she must be about to decline his offer. But then she looked back up at him, grinning just as madly as Merlin. "...could possibly refuse."
He wanted to make her Camelot's new First Lady? Morgana had told her this might happen, if things didn't go quite according to plan in Ealdor or Fyrien. Dante may have hated Arthur for his apparent ease at ordering her death so callously, but right at that very moment in time, she found herself loving him instead.
The First Lady had power and control over the kingdom equal to the King's Hand and second only to Arthur himself and Gwen. Arthur had no official Hand as of yet, so without even realising his own foolishness, he was offering her the keys to Camelot on a plate, and actually encouraging her to take them, with only himself and Gwen standing in her way, if it ever came to a duel of the fates, as Morgana had once called their 'cause'.
"It would be an honour," she told him now, embracing this new idea with great enthusiasm.