"Morgana."
Morgana rolled over in bed, eyes blinking open blearily. Her sleep had been uncommonly pleasant. She hadn't dreamed at all. Gaius's potion must have done more for her than just numb the pain. She felt oddly refreshed.
"Morgana."
A pair of startlingly blue eyes stared at her expectantly. Morgana flinched, scrambling back until she struck the bedframe.
"Aithusa?" The dragon slithered halfway up onto the mattress next to her, making the springs squeal and complain. "You can speak?"
"Kilgharrah is teaching me to project my thoughts. I am still learning. When there was so much pain, I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. You saved me from that, Morgana."
"I—I never realized dragons were capable of communicating with humans," Morgana murmured in amazement. "It is an honor to meet you properly, Aithusa." Morgana smiled brightly, stroking the dragon affectionately with the inner tip of her thumb from the ridge above her eye to the base of her stubby horn. The dragon trilled low in her throat—an almost musical noise—leaning into the soft touch.
"You are kind, Morgana," Aithusa said. "I wanted to thank you."
"I couldn't just leave you like that. You were suffering," Morgana chided the young dragon gently, scratching behind her ear.
It was a little strange, she thought, but it felt almost right to pamper the overgrown lizard as she would a canine. Growing up, her father had always kept dogs around the estate. Wild creatures barely a step down from wolves, always jumping up on people and playing rough. Licking her face and nibbling on her ears.
After Gorlois died, Morgana never saw them again. With the knowledge of her true heritage, the memories turned sour.
"I hurt you," Aithusa whimpered, pulling away. Her uncannily large, crystal-like eyes glistened with regret, lingering on Morgana's bandaged arms. "You could have died. I could have killed you then." Aithusa looked downright pitiful, her fluffy ears flattening against her head."Without Gaius's understanding, you wouldn't have recovered."
"You let me worry about that," Morgana said firmly. "I make my own decisions. I chose to take that risk. You had no part in it."
Aithusa peeked up at her furtively. "You are brave," she said simply.
Morgana grinned at this. "You are brave, little one. You endured so much. It must have been so hard." Aithusa's head bobbed ever so slightly, bright eyes fogging over with emotion.
Gaius had been correct, damn him. It wasn't hard to realize how very young and vulnerable Aithusa was, despite her relative size. Barely a pup, and yet so very troubled. It made her blood boil to imagine the person responsible for that vile curse.
"I remember there was—people. They tried to escape me. I think I hurt them." Aithusa seemed to shiver, tucking her snout under Morgana's pillows. Morgana reached out to stroke her neck, running her fingers through the mane of tangled white hair. It was unnaturally soft. She didn't offer any useless condolences, or conjure up any excuses. It wouldn't help anything. She wanted to ask about how the curse had gotten there, and who had done such a thing, but Aithusa was distraught as it was. She didn't deserve to have any more bad memories dragged to the surface.
"Aithusa, would you like to accompany me today?" Morgana asked gently. "I cannot promise any excitement, but I would be delighted to have you along."
Aithusa's ears perked up. Morgana figured she had her answer.
Morgana waited for the prisoners to arrive. Aithusa sat curled around the foot of her throne, head resting in her claws and tail tucked around her. She watched the door to the throne room, ears twitching peculiarly. Up, then down, then up, then down again. A curious little creature. She seemed fascinated by the skeletal guardians earlier when Morgana summoned two to her side, following quickly on their heels and giving one an inquisitive sniff. Morgana was finding it hard to decipher what the dragon was thinking of all of it so far. She had been fairly quiet since they had set out that morning.
It was not long before the former knights of Camelot arrived, escorted on every side by undead puppets. They were brought before her, about a dozen in all. Scuffed up and dirty, some still bearing nasty-looking battle wounds. Morgana gestured loosely at the guards, and they released their unnatural grips on the knights, stepping back to guard the door. Morgana let her eyes scan the captured knights slowly, deliberately. A few of them shuffled in unease or glanced warily at the dragon. Aithusa shied away, crawling behind the throne to hide. They had caught a glimpse of her before, of course, as Morgana descended to the lowest level of the dungeon with the dragon close behind her, past each of them. It brightened her spirit just a little to see them squirm. All except for one. Sir Leon seemed perfectly content with the situation, meeting her stare for stare.
"Have you decided?" Morgana asked after an appropriately long and uncomfortable silence.
The knights exchanged hard looks. Morgana felt something like hope blossom inside her, hastily stamping it out. If there had been a disagreement between the knights, she would just have to wait and see. Hope would get her nowhere.
One of them stepped forward. "We have decided," he said firmly. Morgana could already assume the denial before it was spoken, massaging her temple miserably.
"All of you?" Morgana asked, scanning the group for a hint of crumbling resolve. Sir Leon stared evenly at her.
"We are all in agreement," came the hasty reply of the speaker. Rather a little too hasty.
"You haven't considered my invitation?" Morgana frowned.
"We will never betray King Arthur. Your reign is a sham!"
"Of course," Morgana said slowly. "You wish to support a man who would see innocent sorcerers burnt in the pyre to your graves. The righteous and courageous knights of Camelot, loyal to a tyrant." Her tone was light and diplomatic, but her eyes were flinty and cold. "Food can certainly be withheld if your minds are so set. See what a week's time does to your resolve." Morgana dismissed them with a disgusted wave of a hand.
"Lady Morgana," a steady voice interrupted. Morgana blinked. Sir Leon. As the other knights fought and jostled against the hold of their guards, Sir Leon simply complied, looking up at Morgana intently. "I am prepared to serve you in the King's stead."
"You traitor!" One of the knights growled.
"I am no traitor," Sir Leon replied quietly.
"Let him go," Morgana told the guard, staying a hand. "Take the others. Leave this one."
And so it was. Leon dusted his sleeve off, not even turning to look as his comrades were dragged away. The door shut with a mighty, resounding echo.
"I misjudged you, sir Leon," Morgana said after a long, quiet moment. Aithusa peeked her head around the throne to peer at the lone knight. Whatever she saw in him, she seemed to like.
"He isn't lying. He intends to do as he says he will," she claimed.
"How can you tell?" Morgana wondered, eyeing the man up and down with narrowed eyes. His clothes were bloodied and dirty, and his hair fell in greasy curls. Aithusa ventured from behind the throne, approaching Sir Leon cautiously. She circled hesitantly around him, poking out her snout to sniff him. His eyes widened slightly, whether from awe or just plain bewilderment. When Aithusa was satisfied with her assessment, her tongue lapped out at his cheek approvingly. She retreated to Morgana's side, no longer feeling the need to hide behind her.
"I can sense his intentions. They are pure," she said. "He is like Emrys." Her ears twitched upwards agreeably. Morgana shook her head in disbelief but decided not to shatter the dragon's naive illusions. Emrys held nothing but ill will for her. Surely Leon had some hidden agenda, too.
"We'll see," she said simply. Sir Leon glanced between the two of them thoughtfully as the one-sided conversation concluded.
"Sir Leon, my dragon thinks you are to be trusted. I, however, require a little more convincing."
"Lady Morgana, I have no intentions of deceiving you," Leon said, keeping eye contact as he spoke. "Your… dragon speaks a partial truth." He turned to glance at Aithusa. "And I thank you for that." To Aithusa, he dipped his head, and the dragon responded in turn. Leon blinked in surprise, eyes filling with fascination. Morgana tapped her chin deliberately, allowing a bit of impatience to slip out.
"Since you clearly have no respect for me or my new position—what is it, then, that drives your decision?" Morgana leaned forward curiously, raising a single, delicate eyebrow. "Why should I trust in you even a sliver, sir?"
"I am not asking for your trust, my lady, and I am not offering my loyalty. I am only doing what I believe to be right."
Morgana waited patiently, intrigued.
"I didn't see it at first. I would have died before I complied with your ridiculous proposal. I will always be loyal to King Arthur." He paused, thoughtful again. "But I had a lot of time to think, down there, surrounded by the sounds of rebellion and unrest." He smirked a little grimly. "I think you need me."
"A deal, then? How pragmatic." Morgana grinned. Now she was fascinated. A knight with some amount of intelligence. This man was not simply another blind, follow-the-leader, muscle-brained footsoldier.
"I'll help you. I'll be the queen's bloody right-hand man if it means Camelot stays afloat." His expression was grave. "Or I'm afraid there won't be a kingdom left for King Arthur to retake."
Morgana begrudgingly acknowledged the sense of the proposed agreement, tapping her chin as she considered it. "If you even think of trying to escape, know that I can find you. You'll lead me right to where your precious king is hiding away—however out of reach he is to me now." The work of Emrys's protection, she presumed. The king's location had been obscured, any attempts to scry or divine it blowing up in her face.
"I do not know his whereabouts, anyhow," Leon said wearily. "He escaped your bloodbath. I did not."
"You are alive." Morgana smiled meanly. "Count your blessings." So many had not been as lucky. A shiver ran down her spine. Aithusa glanced at her with a little whine, askance.
She ignored those wide, innocent eyes. Standing, she approached Sir Leon slowly. "Are you prepared, sir?" she asked, scrutinizing him like a hawk picking out her prey. "You will do what needs doing. Help me restore order to Camelot. Me, a sorceress who has stolen your King's throne for my own, who encourages magic to run rampant through her kingdom."
Sir Leon smiled humorlessly. "I'm afraid so."
"Well?" Morgana extended a hand, not so much smiling as bearing her teeth."Do we have a deal?"
Leon stared at the proffered hand for a moment. "You will keep your prisoners well-fed and attend to their wounds," he said, a sharp look in his eyes.
"Certainly," Morgana hummed.
Leon didn't waste another second hesitating, taking her hand. They shook on it. "We do."
"God save your soul," Morgana said gleefully.
Gaius saw to Sir Leon, mending old, untreated wounds with an air of quiet outrage. "Your majesty, if I had seen to this gash earlier it would have faded with barely a scar. Now I will need to go to great lengths to keep sepsis from setting in. Sir Leon could have died down there without even a fighting chance against the infection."
Morgana regarded him coldly. "They chose their fate, Gaius. I gave them the chance to defer their loyalties and they refused." She smiled benevolently. "I didn't need to take prisoners."
"You have a duty to treat them with basic humanity." Gaius's eyebrows creased severely, a look any reasonable person might quail under. Morgana was not a reasonable person.
"Do not presume to lecture me," she hissed dangerously. Gaius didn't back down this time, holding eye contact. He didn't talk back, but his defiance was resounding.
Sir Leon watched their exchange, not even bothering to try to get a word in edgewise between the two. Aithusa sat watchfully at his side. Sometimes, she would lean over to lick his cheek or nibble his ear, a bewildering experience to say the least. He had washed and was wearing a new set of clothes. Without the grime and dried blood, the sickly pallor of his skin stood out, gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. Scratches and glancing blows littered his arms and face. His shoulders were hunched in exhaustion and his eyes were dull and almost sluggish. If he was to be of any use to Morgana, this would have to change.
Some of the tension leaked out of Morgana, shoulders slumping. "What is done is done. All I can do now is work with what I have," Morgana said with a slight sigh. "Permit me that."
Gaius surveyed her with a grunt. "If you'll allow me to see the others… then I will do what I can." Morgana raised an eyebrow.
"And what will you do if your conventional methods fail you, physician?" Morgana asked. Leon watched Gaius curiously, catching on to the odd emphasis in Morgana's tone. "Will you resort to sorcery again in front of Arthur's knights? What will they think of you then?"
"Gaius?" Leon questioned, brow furrowing. Morgana smirked, deciding now was the time to seal her lips.
"I was only curious. You may begin your work." She gestured for the skeletons guarding the door to enter. "Gather your things, my boys will escort you down to the cells." She waved merrily at the lifeless vessels. "Come, Sir Leon. I'll show you to your quarters. You need your rest."
Leon looked from Gaius to Morgana with an unhappy frown. "I'd like to speak with Gaius, if that's possible?"
Gaius didn't even twitch. Morgana's taunts had yet to get to him, to her annoyance. It was kind of admirable, in the most irritating way possible. "The man is busy, Sir Leon," she dismissed him. Leon nodded, eyes only lingering on Gaius for another moment longer before standing and following Morgana. Aithusa followed behind him at a distance.
"Everything is not as black and white as you thought," Gaius uttered to Leon as he passed him. "Remember that."
"Good evening, Gaius," Morgana said flatly, beckoning her two companions with an impatient wave of her hand. Her dragon and her knight. Things were not as bleak as they seemed, anymore.
Sir Leon was left alone. As alone as a mouse could be in a den of snakes. His mail was polished and gleaming, set out in the wardrobe alongside his other clothes. The cape alongside it was not the vivid red he was used to, a dark velvet that revealed a deep purple under scrutiny. It was otherwise unadorned. Looking at it felt like treachery.
The white dragon had followed him into his quarters, sniffing around the room curiously. Leon supposed he would have to get used to this. He laid out the potions Gaius had given him, sitting on the edge of the soft mattress. It had been weeks. He shut his eyes. This, too, felt treacherous. He shouldn't be allowed to be comfortable, not now. He opened his eyes, jumping a little as he noticed the dragon watching him from the center of the room. They sat there, still. Those uncanny, unblinking blue eyes seemed to peer into his soul. Sir Leon stood.
"What are you looking for?" he wondered aloud. He approached cautiously. The dragon seemed to watch him ever more intently, tail flicking about skittishly. He reached out, slowly, to pat their head. The dragon ducked away, their spines standing on end and their ears flattening. They made an anxious little noise, slithering from the room. They peeked at him from the other side of the door one last time, before scampering off. Leon blinked.
He would never get used to this.
Morgana watched the sun set over her kingdom from the balcony. Red light swallowed Camelot, bloodying the horizon. She smiled wryly, leaning against the ledge. Exhaustion pulled at every line of her. Aithusa joined her a while later, as the last scraps of color drained from the sky. Her scales shone in the dimness, a soft, comforting glow. She nuzzled against Morgana's sleeve, gently nipping her ear with a razor-sharp tooth.
"What do you think?" Morgana asked softly. "Of my kingdom."
The dragon sat, wrapping her tail around herself. Her ears drooped."Morgana, I…" she whimpered. "All those people… the knights, Gaius, Emrys. You are kind. You saved me. But people are hurting. They're hurting and you are ready to let them. Is that what your kingdom is?"
Morgana bit her bottom lip. "You're young. You don't understand it yet. It may seem barbaric, even cruel. But it's necessary. As Queen, I have to make harsh decisions to achieve my end result. I'm turning this hateful kingdom into somewhere sorcerers are free to be themselves, someplace welcoming to everyone outcast by the Pendragon line. It doesn't happen with just wishing alone. Someone needs to take action."
Aithusa wilted, ears pinned flat. "I suppose you—you would know better," her voice wavered quietly. "You're right. I don't understand." She bowed her head. "Emrys never told me about any of this."
"Emrys?" Morgana perked up. Aithusa's ears shot upwards, eyes brightening.
"May I see him again? He always knows what to do." But the light quickly left her eyes. "I haven't seen him or Killgarrah since…" Her whole body shuddered. Morgana's mind reeled. The questions nearly burst out of her like floodwater from a dam. In a moment of wild desperation, she snatched one at random.
"Who… did that to you?"
"A bad man. While I hunted, he shot me down. He thought he could contain me. He cursed me so that I would not disobey. But a cornered animal is dangerous."
Morgana shuddered in agreement. "He got what was coming to him," she said lowly. Aithusa whimpered, curling into herself and tucking her snout under her tail. Morgana sat down next to the dragon, dirtying her dress.
"I don't want to hurt people."
"Sometimes it is necessary," Morgana replied darkly. She had dirtied her hands on occasion. Regret was hard to reach when she remembered what it was all for. "Sometimes when someone gets in your way, your only option is to remove them," she whispered gently.
Aithusa uncovered herself to stare up at Morgana with flinty, cold eyes.
"Is that what you did to Emrys?" the voice in her head whispered accusatively. "Did he get in your way?"
"He supports a bad man," Morgana countered dangerously. "He knew the risks involved."
"You torture him!" Aithusa sniveled, raising herself up. Her tail thrashed across the stone floor. "His magic signature is weak—contained. I could hardly recognize it. He deteriorates physically from starvation and isolation. Will you let him die, Morgana? Why?"
Morgana hesitated at the emotion echoing in her head. The raw feeling of hurt, of betrayal. The mental connection was deeper than she had first noticed.
"You know him," she said, massaging her temples with a wince. "Emrys. You recognized him in the dungeons. That explains your behavior."
"He is different. But he is still a dragon, no matter the shell he wears."
"Different? Different in what way?"
Aithusa seemed to wither away from her guiltily. "I do not think Emrys would like me to say."
"You said he was wearing a shell. A disguise?"
Aithusa whimpered like a wounded dog. "I am grateful to you Morgana. Do not make me betray Emrys."
Morgana sighed, drawing the recalcitrant dragon into her arms. She stroked down the spines of her neck gently. "You wouldn't betray me, would you, Aithusa? You owe your life to my kindness." Her voice was soft and doting. Aithusa trembled in her arms, her eyes screwing shut. "Tell me, won't you? I won't tell Emrys."
"You won't?" Aithusa's voice seemed to whisper. Through their connection, Morgana felt the wavering of her resolve.
"I promise."
Aithusa wriggled out of her arms and hid her snout under her claws. "It is the work of alchemy—I could smell it on him," she confessed.
Morgana felt almost giddy as the truth spilled out. "Tell me more, Aithusa. What is Emrys trying to hide?"
"I—I do not know why he obscures his true self from you, Morgana." The voice was pained, bristling with uncertainty. "I'm sorry. I want to repay you. But I do not know."
Morgana tried to remind herself what it was all for, dismissing any doubts that bubbled to the surface. She had to know. She had to know what her enemy was hiding. "You know something, Aithusa, don't lie to me!" Morgana snapped. A little pressure could be forgiven, surely. Emrys was against her. She had to know. The dragon flinched guiltily, her chest heaving with frightened breaths.
"Emrys is—he is kin. I couldn't—"
"Kin? Kin how?" Morgana narrowed her eyes like twin daggers poised to strike. Intent, unwavering. "You can't be insinuating—"
"He was the first face I saw. He gave me my name. Aithusa. I owe him. I love him."
"A dragonlord?" Morgana wondered aloud.
"That is what the humans call him." A long stretch of silence followed that comment. The confirmation. Morgana had gotten what she wanted. Except—
"There's more, isn't there?" Morgana whispered. "I can sense you holding back. I asked you what Emrys is trying to hide. Don't you want to repay me, the person who saved you? The person who almost died in your claws?" Morgana implored gently. Aithusa cringed as if physically struck, guilty eyes glistening and wet.
"Emrys—" Aithusa's ears drew back, flattening against her head. "Emrys is not his true name," she admitted in the barest of a whisper, claws quaking and eyes opening in disbelief at her own admission. She keened in despair. The connection linking them seemed to snap abruptly.
"Aithusa…" Morgana gasped. The absence reeled inside her head, jolts of agony piercing the inside of her skull. She clutched her head between her hands. Aithusa snapped her jaws at Morgana in wordless fury, her lips peeled back in a snarl. And Morgana understood she had crossed the line, no mental link necessary. "Aithusa, come back!"
But her plea fell on deaf ears. Aithusa was already fleeing from her desperately, muscles coiling and tail snapping as she took flight—tearing from the balcony. Morgana heard the powerful flapping of her wings as she retreated. The shocked gasps and frenzied screams of people below.
"An alias…" Morgana had never even considered the possibility of such a deception. But maybe she should have. Obviously, Emrys, or whatever his true name was, was more cautious and paranoid than she first assumed. The power of a name could not be understated. And a disguise made a certain degree of sense, too.
But Aithusa. Aithusa was gone. Morgana stared at the empty sky.
Would she come back?