This chapter is a little shorter than average since we're just wrapping things up with the OT3 before heading back to Camelot, but hey, at least we've hit the landmark of getting this story's chapter count into double digits.
Evony and her father were near the end of the receiving line, which was fortunate since the few who came after them, all of whom were strangers to Bo, made no impression on her whatsoever. Her mind was in too much of a tailspin over the fact that the future Morrigan, the woman who had complicated her life more than once through her conniving yet had also provided the clue that led Bo to the shaman who'd cursed Nadia (which indirectly led to Bo losing Lauren for good when Nadia woke up), was here – and, even more bizarrely, the smile she had flashed at Bo when they were introduced had appeared genuine, without the edge of mockery or deceit Bo was accustomed to.
Okay, so I already know from meeting the past versions of Dyson and Trick that people can change a lot in a thousand-plus years…but now I'm supposed to believe maybe there was a time when freaking Evony of all people wasn't a total bitch? This is really stretching it…
She kept a close eye on Evony as they moved from the throne room to the banquet hall, though she wasn't sure exactly what she was watching for; it wasn't like the Evony she'd known would ever have been unsubtle enough to snatch up a gold knife and start stabbing people in front of more than a hundred witnesses. Whatever she hoped to see, it didn't happen; Evony spent the entire meal chatting pleasantly with the nobles seated near her, and not even being unduly rude or demanding to the servers as far as Bo could tell.
At one point, she seemed to feel Bo's eyes on her and looked up, meeting her gaze with a flirtatiously sultry stare that caused the succubus to immediately avert her eyes as she choked on the meat she was chewing. Crap, she caught me looking! And oh Goddess, she probably thought I was checking her out!
"Are you all right, Bo?" Trick asked worriedly, leaning over from where he sat beside her, the two of them alone at the royal table, to pat her on the back.
"F-fine," Bo gasped, taking a drink of wine to wash down the obstruction in her throat. "Bite of chicken went down wrong, that's all."
"It's roast duck."
"Really? Well, I guess it's true what they say – everything tastes like chicken." She forced a laugh and then, realizing that everyone else's plates were more than half empty while hers was still almost full, devoted herself to finishing her meal. By keeping her eyes rooted firmly on the food in front of her, which really did deserve her full attention – the cooks had clearly pulled out all the stops to make this a feast to remember – she was able to keep them from straying to Evony again, which was definitely a plus.
Trick watched her for a few more minutes, until at last he was satisfied that she was not about to expire from asphyxiation right there at the dinner table. Then he returned to his own meal, though he still shot occasional glances at her out of the corner of his eye. He'd noticed her paying particular attention to the Marquise girl since she was presented to her, and while he'd previously encouraged Bo to take this opportunity to perform a preliminary inspection of her potential future spouses, he wasn't sure how he felt about her choice.
It was true that the clan the Marquise family hailed from was an old and prestigious one, and since Bo had chosen to remain unaligned, there was nothing to stop her from marrying a member of a predominantly Dark family. In fact, it might even be a smart political move, one that would create closer ties between the Dark faction and Trick's historically Light clan…and yet…
While he didn't subscribe to the simplistically reductionist view that all Dark fae were evil, he had to admit (if only to himself) to harboring certain misgivings about the Marquise patriarch, Claude-Henri. The man was a loyal supporter of Trick's regime, he had even been among the first to applaud the introduction of the Blood Laws, but he was also highly ambitious, even ruthless in his pursuit of power and influence, which were things Trick was wary of letting him accrue too much of.
Rewarding capable allies was all well and good, but it wouldn't do to let them rise too high when they were primarily focused on enriching themselves rather than on the common good. Politically expedient as a match between Bo and the Lady Evony might be, Trick almost shuddered to think what Claude-Henri might do with the influence he would gain if his daughter became the royal consort.
If only someone would catch Bo's eye who wanted to improve things for all the people, who had the intelligence and creativity to think up positive solutions for the realm's problems and the will to carry them out… Ideally, someone who would recognize and encourage those qualities in Bo, who would love her for the person she was, not just her title. Although he'd only known his granddaughter a short time, Trick already knew she deserved nothing less. Unfortunately, as his gaze passed over the lower tables where his noble guests sat, each one preening and hoping to catch the royals' attention even while they ate, he found himself distressingly uncertain if any of them were truly worthy of her.
###
At a table near the rear of the hall, farther back than Trick had bothered to look, several others had also noticed Bo's frequent glances at Evony, and their reactions ranged from surprise to amusement. Morgana, however, was not the least bit amused. On the contrary, she was positively fuming.
"Why does Bo keep staring at that woman?" she hissed to Merlin. "So she's rather pretty – all right, she's stunning – but still…"
"I don't know," Merlin said thoughtfully, tilting his head as he tried to make out Bo's expression. "She is looking at her a lot, but I'm not sure it's because she finds her attractive. Is it just me, or does she seem a bit…tense?"
"Why should she be?" Dyson asked, instantly on alert at the slightest possibility of a threat. "Do you think the woman's dangerous?"
"She looks harmless enough to me," his date interjected, leaning around him to get a better look at the woman who had seemingly captivated Bo. "Now, why don't you finish your food so we can dance when they start the music?"
Dyson obligingly speared another chunk of meat on his fork, but before he could bring it to his mouth, Merlin said, "Sure, she looks harmless enough, but appearances can be deceiving."
After all, the first time he'd met Nimueh, she'd had him thoroughly convinced she was nothing more than a pretty serving girl who was trying to thwart her master's assassination attempt on Arthur despite her fear of Lord Bayard, right up to the moment she tricked him into drinking from her poisoned chalice. Concerned that something similar might be happening now, he went on, "If Bo's suspicious of her, I want to know why. I doubt Morgana or I will be able to get close to her here but, Dyson, do you think you can make your way over to her when the dancing starts and find out what's on her mind?"
"I'll try." Noticing Esperanza's slight frown at this promise, he quickly assured her that he would make plenty of time for dancing with her too, which seemed to mollify her.
Half an hour later, when every plate was clean except for a few crumbs and the first strains of music drifted in from the ballroom next door, he stood up and offered his hand to the fox-shifter. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
Everyone else at their table did the same, either taking hold of their dates or pairing off with whoever was available if they didn't have one, but Merlin didn't think too much of it until Morgana rather pointedly cleared her throat and he turned his head to find her watching him expectantly. The warlock's mouth went dry, and he glanced around like he was hoping for someone to rescue him, but Dyson and all his other friends just stared at him with equally anticipatory expressions, as if to say, Well, what are you waiting for?
Swallowing hard, he turned back to Morgana and hesitantly asked, "Would you, uh, would you like to dance? With me?"
"I would love to." She happily took the hand he held out to her and rose gracefully from her seat, entwining her arm with his once more as they allowed the flow of the crowd to carry them into the ballroom. After all the times she'd been forced to dance with nobles whose company she didn't particularly enjoy, many of whom either steered her around the floor as forcefully as if she was a warhorse they were trying to tame, blasted her with sour breath that reeked of too much strong drink, or trod on her feet (Arthur had been the worst offender on that score), finally having a partner who she was sure would be more considerate, one she actually wanted to be close to, was a dream come true. She couldn't help noticing, however, that Merlin didn't seem to share her enthusiasm; he was practically dragging his feet as he walked beside her, and she could feel the tension in his muscles where she held his arm.
"What's the matter, Merlin? Don't you like dancing?"
"Um, theoretically? I mean, it looks like fun; the trouble is that I haven't had many chances to practice. We had village dances in Ealdor sometimes, at the harvest festival and all, but…well, let's just say the girls didn't exactly line up to dance with me. If any of them did talk to me, it was usually because they were trying to play up to Will by being nice to his odd friend. And I never learned the type of courtly dances you do at balls like this."
"Oh." Morgana's face fell at the realization that what was an enjoyable occasion for her had stirred up unpleasant memories for him, but then she set her mouth in a determined line. "Courtly dances aren't hard to master with an experienced partner. I'll help you, because you're right – dancing is fun, and I'm going to make sure that tonight is better than all those harvest festivals." She just wished those shallow, snobbish village girls who'd snubbed him for being strange (at least in their narrow minds) could be here now, to see him with her.
When the musicians finished warming up and began the first song, she led him out onto the dance floor and guided him through the proper steps, using the mental communication shared between sorcerers as well as physical prompts to instruct him on where to place his feet. Luckily, Merlin was more nimble and quicker on the uptake than Arthur, so her own feet didn't get trampled in the process, and within minutes, they were whirling around the ballroom as fluidly as any other couple, their movements perfectly synchronized.
"See, Merlin? This isn't so bad, is it?"
"Not bad at all," he answered lightly, "but then, I knew it wouldn't be."
"Really? How did you know?"
He twirled her around once more, then spun her back into his arms, his expression turning serious as they found themselves face to face again, almost close enough for their noses to touch. "Because I'm with you."
###
Bo, meanwhile, was not enjoying the dancing nearly as much. All of her partners were reasonably skilled – in fact, they knew the steps better than she did, having been taught medieval ballroom dancing from a young age, though she picked it up quickly – and pleasant enough, but that did nothing to lessen her uncomfortable awareness that this part of the evening was essentially a speed dating event. Occasionally she got a brief respite when one of Trick's older vassals asked her for a dance, but even then she couldn't fully relax; they might not be trying to make romantic overtures, but she suspected they were subtly sizing her up in a different way, attempting to ascertain whether she was a psycho in the making like her mother.
Having just wrapped up another of those dances, she turned away from her departing partner with a small smile of self-satisfaction, feeling fairly confident that she had convinced one more potential dissident of her sanity, only to feel her grin slide right off her lips when she found herself face to face with the last person she wanted to interact with.
"Good evening, princess," Evony said with unnervingly flawless politeness. "May I have the honor of sharing the next dance with you?"
Bo gulped, or at least tried to, though her suddenly dry throat made it difficult. Every instinct she possessed was screaming at her to run, but that would almost certainly undo all her previous efforts at making herself look like a pillar of mental stability. There was no good excuse for politely refusing either, and so, with Trick's warnings against alienating the nobles whose loyalty he depended on in order to maintain a peaceful, prosperous reign ringing in her ears, she rasped out a weak, "Sure."
Evony paused for a moment, waiting for Bo to take the lead as was her right as the higher-ranking female of the pair, but when the succubus remained frozen, Evony took her hand and led her out onto the floor. "Why so coy, your highness?" she asked as they commenced dancing. "I saw you sneaking glances my way throughout dinner."
At last, there was the smug, self-assured, casually arrogant manner Bo remembered from her interactions with Evony's future self, only it wasn't quite the same; this version came off more like a younger, less experienced woman putting on a show of bravado. Huh, maybe it took her a while to grow into the ice-cold manipulator I knew and loved to hate.
"You reminded me of someone I used to know," Bo replied coolly, "but now I'm thinking maybe you're not so much like her after all."
"I see." Evony dropped her gaze just a little, but not before Bo saw what looked like a flash of disappointment in her eyes, unless she was hallucinating.
What the-? Did I actually hurt her feelings – thereby implying that she has feelings to hurt? What is going on here?! Making an effort to soften her tone, Bo went on, "That's not necessarily a bad thing, though. The woman you remind me of… Let's just say we didn't always get along. She had a nasty habit of using people without giving a damn about their feelings, like they were just toys for her to use and play with and then throw away when she was done with them."
Evony met her eyes once more, her brow now furrowed in confusion. "How else are you supposed to treat those who are beneath you? My father says serving us is all they're good for."
"I say that's crap," Bo retorted, her voice instantly becoming harsh again. "Who gets to decide who's 'beneath' anyone else anyway? I grew up with humans, and no, they don't have supernatural powers like we do, but they're just like us where it counts – they're just as capable of being brave and kind and loyal as any fae, and for your information, the best friend I've ever had is human. If you keep up that attitude, one day you're gonna look around and realize the only reason people put up with you is because they want something from you or they're afraid of you, that none of your so-called friends actually like you. But I'm not scared or looking to climb the social ladder, so lucky for me, I don't have to waste my time with people like that."
Pulling free of her dance partner, she strode away without even waiting for the song to end, ignoring the curious looks and whispers that followed her. There was a table near one wall that held an assortment of light refreshments for anyone who got hungry or thirsty again after dancing, and Bo headed toward it just for the sake of looking like she had a destination in mind, then stood staring down into the depths of what appeared to be a dark red punch with slices of fruit floating in it without really seeing it.
"Care for a drink, my lady?"
Startled out of her reverie, she whirled around, then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Dyson – at last, a friendly face. "Dyson, thank the Goddess. I've had all these strangers either hitting on me or trying to psychoanalyze me, or maybe do both at once…"
"Here." He ladled some of the fruity drink into a crystal goblet and pressed it into her hand.
"Thanks." She threw him a grateful smile before gulping down half of the goblet's contents; the liquid was indeed surprisingly similar to punch, simultaneously sweet and tangy with a strong pomegranate flavor.
"I'm sorry you haven't been enjoying yourself," Dyson said as she drank, "although if anybody's gotten under your skin, you haven't shown it…until you stormed off and left your last partner in the middle of the dance."
Hearing the unspoken question in his voice, Bo set her goblet aside and shrugged, an uncomfortable twitching of her bare shoulders. "Yeah, I probably shouldn't have done that, it's just…" She glanced around to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear her next words before saying quietly, "I know her…or at least, I will know her."
"I see. Judging by your reaction to her, I'm going to hazard a guess that her future self wasn't one of your closest friends?"
"That's a massive understatement," Bo said with a very un-princess-like snort. "I don't know if I'd exactly call her an enemy – she never did anything too bad to me, and she actually helped me out once, but she always had an ulterior motive – and now her dad might be trying to set us up, which is a level of weird that I don't even know how to deal with. Is there anything stronger than pomegranate punch here?"
"If the archduke has his eye on a political match for his daughter, it looks like you upset his plans," Dyson observed.
Bo followed his gaze to see Claude-Henri Marquise talking to Evony in a distant corner; they were too far away for her to hear what he was saying, but their expressions made it clear that he was angry and Evony was extremely dismayed to find herself on the receiving end of his ire. Then he grabbed her arm none too gently and forcibly marched her out of the ballroom. In spite of herself, Bo felt a twinge of sympathy – not something she'd ever expected Evony to inspire in her, but she knew what it was like to disappoint a strict, demanding parent.
Not wanting to dwell on Mary Dennis' rigidly restrictive rules or the disturbing possibility that she might actually have something in common with her old frenemy, Bo deliberately changed the subject. "Speaking of setting people up, how's it going with you and a certain foxy lady I saw you dancing with earlier?"
"Her name's Esperanza."
"I know that; I just couldn't pass up the chance to make that pun, because she turns into a fox… Never mind. You know, Kenzi would've laughed."
"I'm sure she would," Dyson agreed, his green eyes glinting with amusement even as he stubbornly maintained his deadpan expression, causing Bo to huff in frustration. "I suppose it's going well. She's very…outgoing-"
"Which is exactly what you need to balance out your stoic tough guy vibe," Bo cut in. "Aren't you glad I pushed her to ask you out?"
"You did?" For some reason, he did not appear to be overcome with gratitude; in fact, the look that crossed his face was more like a frown than anything else.
"Yes," Bo confirmed, refusing to be deterred by his lukewarm reaction. "I could tell she was into you, and I saw you checking her out on the training field, but you weren't making a move, so I told her, 'if you like a guy and he's just not getting the hints you're sending him, sometimes you have to take the initiative'. I said I'd find you a girlfriend, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," Dyson said a little stiffly, but before he could remind her that he had neither asked nor encouraged her to do that, the subject of their discussion sauntered up, apparently feeling that she had been deprived of his attention long enough.
"What are you two doing skulking around the refreshments table?"
"We're not skulking," Bo replied, "just having a friendly chat."
"But you've been standing here almost ten minutes," Esperanza pointed out with a slight pout. "I'm sure there are plenty of people who still want to dance with you, your highness, and I'm certainly not ready to give it up for the night."
"It seems duty calls," Dyson said as she took hold of his arm and began not so subtly tugging him back toward the dance floor. "If you'll excuse me…"
He let himself be towed away, and soon they were reabsorbed into the colorful crowd of dancers. Bo watched them for a moment, allowing herself to revel in the satisfaction of a job well done, then sought out another couple who inspired more mixed emotions. Merlin and Morgana looked great together, and she was glad to see that they seemed to be having fun, but she wished she could be with them instead of confining herself to the company that was deemed suitable for royalty. Next she scanned the ballroom for Trick, hoping that if he wasn't watching, maybe she could sneak over to them for a few minutes…
Before she could locate her grandfather, however, another group of fae nobles saw her standing alone and pounced, and she reluctantly resigned herself to playing the part of the perfect princess for the rest of the evening.
###
Hours later, the ball wound down and Bo was able to escape at last, though not without having to dodge some of her more assertive suitors who assumed that her succubus nature meant she wanted company for the night, and never stopped to consider the possibility that she might already have it. It was with great relief that she finally shook them off, retreated behind the locked door of her private chambers, and carefully removed her grandmother's necklace before flopping down across her bed.
"Are you all right?" asked Merlin, who had left the ballroom earlier than she had along with Morgana and had therefore missed the drama surrounding her exit. He leaned over her to get a better look at her face, and she saw concern in the blue depths of his eyes. "You look worn out."
"Let's just say that whoever said going to parties was the easy part of being a princess is full of shit," Bo sighed. "Sure, it looks like it should be a breeze – you get to dress up in fancy ballgowns and dance the night away – but what they don't tell you is that there are so many people watching you, judging every move you make, it almost feels more like you're on display in a zoo."
"At least that woman who unsettled you so much didn't stay too long," Morgana remarked with a hint of satisfaction. "What was her name? Evony?"
"Dyson told us you knew her before you were transported to Camelot," Merlin added, his tone gently probing for more information without actually asking a question.
"Yeah, in my time she was the Morrigan, the leader of the Dark Fae. I didn't trust her as far as I could throw her, and I'm not sure I can in this time either, but… I don't know, it seemed like maybe the younger Evony might be different. Like maybe she's not completely set in her vicious backstabbing ways yet, and maybe she only acts that way to try and please her father." Bo sat up, her exhaustion forgotten now that she finally had a chance to break down the evening's events with her most trusted confidants. "I never thought much about why the Evony I knew was the way she was, but I guess it makes sense – nobody becomes a manipulative bitch in a vacuum."
Morgana gave an assenting hum, then said, "If she's going to be politically powerful in the future, we should keep our eyes on her."
Merlin nodded in agreement. "And if she's trying to gain your favor, you might have a chance to befriend her and give her a different perspective to listen to besides her father's." At Bo's look of dismay, he went on, "Isn't that what you advised me to do with Mordred – try to prevent a potential future enemy from going down the path that sets them against you?"
"I guess so, but this is Evony we're talking about; she literally eats people's hopes and dreams for lunch and ruins lives as a form of entertainment!"
"And Mordred would have murdered Arthur in cold blood."
"Okay, yeah, that is a pretty major act of villainy," Bo acknowledged with a frown. "I guess if the guy who would've grown up to do that can be preemptively redeemed, there's hope for everyone…but that doesn't mean I'm looking forward to trading friendship bracelets with the freaking future Morrigan." She let herself fall back onto her bed once more, glaring up at the stupid shiny gold leaf on the ceiling.
Morgana came to sit beside her, running her fingers through the succubus' hair. "Just think of how much easier your life will be if you can turn her into an ally; then you won't have to deal with her schemes later on," she said soothingly. Then she removed her hand from Bo's head, her fist clenching as her expression turned fierce. "If her father has any notions of you marrying her, though…"
"Don't worry, we won't let that happen," Merlin assured her, taking hold of her tightly balled fist and kissing her knuckles until her fingers loosened. "We didn't go through all we did to save Bo just to lose her now. Still, I wouldn't mind letting the archduke think he has a chance, at least for a while." At Morgana's incredulous look, he grinned and said, "There's something sort of…strangely irresistible about you when you're jealous."
Next time in Camelot, Lancelot tries to find the perfect birthday present to finally show Kenzi how he feels about her. Judging by Lost Girl's track record with birthday episodes (2x12 and 5x05), and how Morgana's birthday turned out in 3x05, I'm sure there's absolutely no way this can go wrong…