sins of the father :: part one

[darkmagic_luvr]

Title: Sins of the Father
Author: darkmagic_luvr
Warnings: Consensual incest, consentual sex between minors, age gap flirting, main character death, angst, Merlin’s tears…cliffhanger? Sequal foreshadowing.
Summary: There are some sins that cannot be forgiven; these sins of the father.
Disclaimer: In the beginning there are lines taken from the actual episodes of Sins of the Father. I do not own them, the characters or the original plot line for this episode.
Author’s Note: Ah, the only part of this fic that came easily.


“You knew my mother?” Morgause considered him for a moment before inclining her head and moving to mount her horse.

“I knew her very well.”

S I N S . O F . T H E . F A T H E R
P A R T . O N E

It was all Arthur could think about as he and Merlin followed his horses lead through the wood. His clothing was soaked through from the interesting turn through the lake. Luckily it wasn’t deep enough for his horse to drown in. He’d have to thank Morgause for that first thing. Arthur tried not to roll his eyes as the stray thought broke through the conversation he’d been replaying in his head all morning.

His mother. Morgause knew his mother. And if his father was right and she was a sorceress…He hadn’t lied to Merlin when he said he’d do anything for the vaguest memory of his mother, it was true. Anything meant anything. He’d die if it meant to give him a chance to see her face. There was something else though, something he hadn’t thought about in over half a decade, something that hurt too much for him to consider a possible alternative to his mother.

He’d promised his father he wouldn’t think of it, but then, Uther had forbidden him from coming to Morgause, hadn’t he?

He’d consider it. But for the time being (Arthur sighed out loud, part in exhaustion from listening to Merlin prattle on about his sore ass for most of the day and part at the sight of the castle he could just make out beyond the waterfall) he’d accept the challenge Morgause presented him. And if - if he were to succeed, then he’d consider more carefully.

Arthur stopped on the other side of the waterfall, shaking droplets out of his hair, trying to push out the feeling of anxiety tightening in his gut. He felt Merlin stop behind him, staring up at the stone above them.

“Where are we?” he murmured into a quiet that pressed in on them. Arthur could feel magic in the air, and though those who had wield it had long since passed, he could still feel it prickling at his skin.

Arthur wanted to shake his head to clear it but resisted, tearing his eyes away from the sight instead and pushing his horse toward the castle. “I don't know.”

Merlin, it seemed, ignored him. “If we weren't sure Morgause was a sorcerer before, we can be certain of it now.”

“That must've been how she defeated me. She was using magic.” But he knew this. And it seemed so did his father.

“Hmm, it didn't look like she was.”

He glanced over his shoulder to look at his servant briefly before speaking. “And what would you know about magic, Merlin?”

“Nothing.” but even he heard the rue in Merlin’s tone. He decided to ignore that the older boy had even spoken and dismounted his horse, tying his lead to the post at the side of the courtyard they’d entered. There was nothing there, nothing except a block of wood in the center with an axe. His stomach tightened at the sight of it.

Arthur glanced around them, looking for any other signs of life. “Now what?”

“Maybe we should ask the horse. Well, there's no one here.” Arthur was kept from beating his companion over the head by the shuffling sound of fabric above them. Morgause stepped through a door-less arch dressed in red, her hand touching the stone lightly as if to keep her balance.

“You kept your promise.” She sounded impressed with him, he didn’t care; Arthur went straight to the point.

“What is the nature of the challenge you wish to set me?”

Morgause didn’t answer, instead took her time to step down the stairs carefully and head towards the center of the courtyard, where the block was sitting. Her hand wrapped around the handle of the axe. “Place your head on the block.” There was a pause as she swiftly pulled the axe free from the wood and turned toward Arthur and Merlin. She gave the prince a look that reflected her next words. “You gave me your word that you would do anything I asked.”

Arthur started toward the block, which trigger movement from Merlin, as if he was going to try and restrain him but not completely daring himself to. “Arthur, don't.”

Arthur was already kneeling in front of the block, however, shifting a bit uncomfortably as bits of leaves and sticks dug into his legs. He’d sworn, after all, and if he was to be remembered as anything in his life he wanted to be remembered as a man who kept his word.

Merlin apparently didn‘t care if he was an honorable man or not, because the prat wouldn‘t shut up. Arthur didn’t even know what he was saying; the blood pounding in his ears was too loud, all he knew was that Merlin was saying something stupid that probably only sounded heroic. He snapped. “Stay out of this, Merlin!”

Arthur held his breath, staring straight ahead, waiting for Morgause to end his life. This must have been why she spared his life instead of killing him in front of Camelot. If he died here, Merlin would most likely die as well, and his father would never know of his murderer. There would never be a war, because there would never be proof of his death. But as the seconds ticked by, his death never came. Morgause pressed the blade against his neck, stopped and pulled away.

“You have shown that you are truly a man of your word, Arthur Pendragon, and for that I will grant you one wish.” Wish? Was she fucking with him? She tried to kill him and now she was going to grant him a wish? This bitch was insane. “Tell me what it is that your heart most desires.”

He was speaking before he’d have a chance to even think about the question, let alone let it sink in that she wasn’t going to kill him. “You said you knew my mother. Tell me all that you know about her.”

“Perhaps you would like to see her.”

Her words had Arthur breathless once again. “I want that more than anything.”

“As you wish.”

In the blur of being led by Morgause and an unusually silent Merlin into a darker chamber, Arthur was answering Merlin’s questions automatically, but honestly. He was vaguely aware that they were talking about him seeing his mother, and what Uther would do when he found out his son was collaborating with a sorcerer. It was only when Morgause turned back to them that his brain suddenly caught up with him.

“It is time. Close your eyes. Arásae mid min miclan-”

“Wait.” His interruption was met with a look of confusion from Morgause and unmasked relief from Merlin, but he hardly acknowledged them. His heart was beating rapidly once again and for the first time in a long time he desperately wished Merlin was not with him. He repeated himself, just to give himself time. “Wait, please.”

“There is something else you desire?” asked Morgause, sounding skeptical about her words. “Something more than seeing your mother?”

“There is nothing more I would wish than to see her,” admitted Arthur, his voice breaking slightly. His heart was clenching painfully in his chest. He was finding it difficult to breathe. “Except…Except my son.”

He watched in slow motion as Merlin’s jaw dropped, but wisely remained silent. Morgause even had the decency to look shocked at his words. Arthur took a deep breath, attempting to settle his nerves and explained as briefly as he could.

“It was a very long time ago, and we were young…young enough not to know any better. He died just after birth. It still hurts sometimes to think about and I know the pain it would leave with me, but I would still like to see him; to hold him once. I never got a chance to…”

“Who…” Merlin started, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. He stopped mid-word, uncertain if it was even appropriate to speak after such a confession. “Who was the mother?”

“Morgana.” He heard Merlin suck in air quickly, but didn’t look over at him. He kept his eyes on neutral ground, on the candle flames flickering in the stillness. “We haven’t ever spoken of it. What could either of us possibly say?” Arthur finally looked at Morgause, who was staring at him oddly, an emotion on her face he couldn’t place. “Can you do it?”

“Morgana gave birth to a son?” asked Morgause. She turned away from him, her hand passing over a crystal absently and thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, but I cannot give you that.”

He tried not to sound too much like a pouting teenager when she turned back to him, but it was hard to keep his feelings out of his eyes. “You said you would grant me a wish. Am I to believe that you are not a woman of your word as I am a man of mine?”

“I am most defiantly a woman of my word,” said Morgause sounding slighted. “However, I cannot give life to someone who isn’t dead.”

And quite suddenly, Arthur felt his heart stop mid-beat and everything below his sternum seemed to go numb. He vaguely recognised the hacking sound in the back of his head as Merlin choking on his own air supply, and the rushing sound in his ears as blood rushing to his head. For a brief moment, Arthur thought he might faint.

“Not…Not dead? But…my father and…and Gaius-”

“His magic still remains in this world, yes,” interrupted Morgause, turning back to her crystals. Arthur started.

“Magic?”

“He inherited it from his mother, of course.” She said this as if it was the most obvious answer she could have given him. She picked up a crystal and offered it to him, showing him the image of a beautiful boy with dark hair and blue eyes.

Morgause frowned at the pale turn his face had taken; Merlin had stopped choking (wincing at the mention of Morgana having magic) and was staring at him once again, his mouth hanging open like an idiot. And Arthur felt…odd. He felt warm and uncomfortable and more than anything - confused. His father, Gaius too, had told him that his child (and Morgana’s, and she had magic) was dead; that he had died suddenly and without cause. Arthur sucked in a breath, his heart rate speeding up.

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead…Morgause’s words seemed to be echoing in his head. The warmth spreading through his body was making him dizzy. If his son wasn’t dead that meant that…well, that he was alive for starters, and that his father had lied to him.

Why. Why? Why would Uther lie to him? And Gaius, the man was like his uncle, why would he go along with Uther? Was he that subservient to the King that he would lie to two unquestionably young teenagers that their child had died? Morgana at least had been old enough to be married off to a nobleman, why not Uther just marry them as soon as he’d found out? It would have been what they wanted then. Besides, if Morgana had magic, why hadn’t Uther killed her long ago? If he could stand the thought of his ward with magic then why not his grandson? His flesh and blood?

His darker feelings were being paled in comparison to the much more powerful thought then meaning of this….this betrayal.

His son was alive.

.

Arthur was traveling at a much slower pace than when they’d been looking for Morgause. His aura was so dark that Merlin could practically see the rage coming off him. Arthur had turned and left the castle without another word, he’d not even stopped when Morgause offered to show him his mother. Merlin muttered a hasty ‘we’ll get back to you on that’ and quickly followed his master out to the horses, where he was very calmly untying them. Merlin had opened his mouth to ask Arthur a question about this ‘son’ he’d had with Morgana and why no one had ever told him, when Arthur had turned to him stiffly, his jaw set and murder in his eyes.

“Get on your horse, Merlin.”

Merlin shut his mouth with an audible click, swallowed and mumbled a ‘yes, sire’ before taking the reins of his horse and following Arthur out of the castle and back toward the waterfall. Arthur didn’t say another word the entire trip back, and Merlin didn’t press. It was the probably the longest he’d even been silent, but he didn’t dare say that out loud, he was afraid of what Arthur might do if he spoke.

However slowly they seemed to be moving, they reached Camelot far quicker than they had left it. Not once did Arthur betray any feeling other than slow painful murder. Even the knights guarding the city straightened to attention when Arthur ignored their presence completely and headed inside; Merlin knew they had obviously been posted at the gates to bring Arthur to the King when he returned.

“We’re headed for Uther anyway…” He trailed off with a weak smile, forgoing the hysterical chuckle that had been building in his chest since they’d left Morgause and her chopping block. He was so on edge he could have cried at any moment, but decided to save it for later.

“Please bring Morgana to the war room, Merlin.” Arthur’s sudden voice from in front of him startled Merlin out of his wits, and he nearly fell off his horse. If Arthur noticed he didn’t mention it, which was a nice change. Merlin nodded.

“Yes, sire.”

Arthur went straight to the castle, dismounting from his horse in one smooth movement, handing his reins off to a servant and heading up the stairs. Merlin was less graceful as he practically fell from his steed, limping once, twice and then jogging after Arthur. The younger man turned a corner, most likely heading for the war room, when Gaius came down a side corridor and called to Merlin.

“Merlin. I'm relieved to see you're safe. Where's Arthur?” Merlin ignored him, walking around his person to collect Morgana. He dreaded the conversation that was coming; he could feel Gaius’ confusion as he continued walking. “Merlin…”

He couldn‘t help himself. He stopped and turned to Gaius. The anger Arthur had been emanating had rubbed off. “Arthur was born of magic, wasn’t he?” He’d had a lot of time to think as he and Arthur had traveled back to Camelot. There was only one reason why Morgause would send for Arthur, entice him by mentioning his mother. That woman had known something about Ygraine Pendragon, something that would have worked to her advantage. She had offered to bring his mother through the veil, something that would have taken energy and magic, but instead she’d given Arthur a son. A son who had supposedly died, so told by Uther. Merlin shook his head in disgust. Morgause had rubbed away enough of the varnish for someone else with magic to realize what Uther had done. “All those people he's executed...he's as guilty as they are. People should know the truth about what he's done. How could you not tell me?”

“I feared what Arthur would do if he ever found out.”

“So do I,” muttered Merlin. Gaius frowned, reaching out to stop Merlin before he turned away again.

“So he doesn’t know?”

Merlin shook his head gravely. “No, not about his mother. But he knows Uther meant to kill his son. He knows his son is alive.”

“Merlin, please, you have to stop him-”

“You knew Arthur and Morgana had a child,” said Merlin quietly, jerking his arm out of Gaius’ grip, turning away for a moment, in case his emotions betrayed him. But he did turn back after his mentor had been silent too long. “You protected him, didn’t you? Uther must have ordered him murdered, because of Morgana’s magic, which means he knows about her and he’s either pretending not to notice or he’s completely naïve-”

“It’s far more complicated than that, Merlin,” said Gaius. He stepped forward, and Merlin knew he was trying to explain but it all just sounded like excuses to his ears.

“I’ve never seen Arthur so furious,” interrupted Merlin, shaking his head slowly. “He will not forgive a betrayal like this. I can‘t honestly say he won’t try to kill Uther.” Merlin turned and continued down the hallway, leaving Gaius.

“If Uther is to die-”

“Then it will be exactly what he deserves!” Merlin shouted over his shoulder. He headed in the direction of Morgana’s chambers, nearly running into her and Gwen as they turned the same corner. Merlin nearly had a heart attack, grabbing Morgana’s arms in an attempt to keep them both upright. She looked at him in bewilderment as Gwen tried to pry him off her lady with little luck.

“Merlin? You and Arthur have returned from seeing Morgause-?”

“You have to come, quickly,” interrupted Merlin, and it seemed to him that was all he had been doing lately. Interrupting and scraping pieces of his brains off the walls from where it had exploded from all the fucking information he seemed to keep acquiring. Morgana at least had the decency to look worried at his words, but Gwen just looked confused.

“What’s going on? Has something happened to Arthur?”

“I know about your son,” said Merlin. He was expecting Morgana to gasp (that’s what girl’s did, right? They gasped when they were surprised…?), maybe even gape at him a bit, but what he was not expecting was-

CRACK!

Merlin’s head whipped to the side from the force of Morgana’s blow to his face. He was not expecting her to slap him.

“A perfectly reasonable reaction, I suppose,” muttered Merlin, shaking off the tingling sensations he was feeling along the left side of his face, particularly painful where her rings had hit. He blinked quickly until the bright lights faded enough for him to at least make out Morgana’s outline once again. “Be that as is may, you do need to come with me.”

Morgana was nearly snarling, her teeth were bared and there were angry tears in her eyes. “How dare you-”

“This isn’t really a request. Arthur’s ordered me to bring you to the war room immediately.” Merlin reached out to take Morgana’s wrist, pulling her forward and after him. Gwen followed behind as quickly as she was able, but Merlin shot her a sympathetic look. “Just Morgana. Sorry Gwen.”

“It’s alright, Gwen,” Morgana apologized, looking back at her servant. “Wait in my chambers for me.”

Gwen nodded reluctantly, but that was all she was able to communicate before Merlin jerked Morgana down another corridor, leading them down to the war room. It was only when they were out of Gwen’s earshot that she snarled at Merlin.

“Merlin, how on-”

“I know because Arthur told me,” interrupted Merlin, not slowing his pace, practically dragging Morgana along down the corridor. “God’s, it is so fucking complicated…How fucking old were you? No, don‘t answer that, I don‘t want to know.”

Morgana frowned at Merlin’s babbling, trying to twist her wrist out of his grip as he pulled her along. “What did Morgause want of Arthur?”

“She wanted to pretend to kill him!” said Merlin hysterically, the dark humor that had been building up inside him all day finally exploding. “She wanted to pretend to chop of his bloody head and grant him a wish. Like a bleeding genie!”

“She was a sorceress?” asked Morgana, wincing at the pitch Merlin’s voice had taken. He nodded. “And she gave Arthur a wish?”

“Sort of,” muttered Merlin, averting his eyes to the floor. “She wanted to show Arthur his mother, but at the last minute he refused.”

“What did he want?” asked Morgana, prodding Merlin to continue. He stopped in his tracks, turning toward Morgana with a solemn face.

“He wanted to see his son,” said Merlin. “He explained that he died a long time ago, that he never had a chance to hold him, and that was all he wanted.”

“And he…he got that?” asked Morgana thickly, her eyes going a bit glassy. Merlin shook his head, making her frown. “Why?”

“I…” Merlin hesitated. He shouldn’t say; it really wasn’t his place. He shouldn’t have even told her this much. Arthur only told him to bring Morgana to the war room, which was what he intended to do. But then he’d started babbling….Arthur was right, he really should learn when to shut up. “It’s not my place.”

But Morgana seemed to actually listen to the answer and accept it. Whatever Morgause said that had Merlin obeying Arthur completely (well, almost completely), must have been too important for anyone other than himself to tell her. Morgana nodded and started forward, walking next to Merlin instead of being dragged behind him. He was relieved by it.

Arthur pushed past the doors to the war room, entering without warning or permission, to find Uther standing at the head of the table, hovering over a dozen or so documents with Sir Leon. He looked up as Arthur stormed in.

“Arthur! Where have you been? I’ve had search parties out looking for you-“

“I know what you’ve done,” interrupted Arthur. “I know what you tried to do.”

“Arthur, what on earth are you talking about?” Uther straightened, staring at Arthur, who continued to stand motionless at the end of the table.

“Was it really because he had magic?” asked Arthur, ignoring Uther’s question. “Is that the only reason why you would have our son killed? It makes absolutely no sense to me; and you treat Morgana as a daughter.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Uther again. “Whose son?”

“Mine,” snarled Arthur, slamming his hand down on the table between them, startling both the king and Leon. “Morgana’s! Our son. You tried to have him killed.”

Uther didn’t even blink. “That’s absurd, Arthur, that child died moments after its birth.”

“Do not lie to me.”

Uther narrowed his eyes at his son. “Leave us. No one is to enter.” Leon nodded and quickly obeyed, shutting the heavy doors behind him. Without an audience, Arthur pulled his sword.

“Tell me why you tried to have him killed.”

“Arthur, you saw that child yourself. It was dea-“

“IT WAS A TRICK,” roared Arthur. “I’ve seen his face, and he lives.”

“Lies!” shouted Uther. “Is this what that witch has told you? That your son was alive? It’s a lie. Nothing more than a bluff used to turn you against me.”

“All those children you’ve killed, they did nothing but possess the magic they were born with. Just like my son; just like Morgana.”

A muffled gasp behind Arthur alerted him to Merlin’s presence with Morgana. Uther glared at Sir Leon.

“I told you no one was to enter.”

“And I told Merlin to bring Morgana here,” said Arthur. “So she can know what you’ve done.”

“You knew?” whispered Morgana. “You knew I had magic?”

“That’s absurd. Morgana does not have any magic-”

“Yes I do!” screamed Morgana. “I have all my life, haven’t I? It’s why I have the nightmares, they’re premonitions! Like when I saw Arthur attacked by the Questing Beast last year; I warned him not to go.”

“You are a hypocrite and a liar,” snarled Arthur, advancing towards Uther, pointing his sword at the old man. “Tell her what you did.”

“I did nothing,” hissed Uther, his eyes flickering from the sword pointed at his throat and back to Arthur. Merlin stepped further into the room, catching Morgana’s attention.

“I spoke to Gaius,” he said softly. “He was the one who smuggled him out.”

“Gaius?” asked Morgana, turning to Merlin. “What does Gaius have to do with…what is going on?”

“You would believe the word of a servant over your own father’s?” asked Uther, his eyes narrowing at Arthur. When he didn’t say anything against it, Uther snorted. “Lunacy. Arthur, that woman has lied to you and enchanted your servant.”

“She showed him to me,” said Arthur, his voice going quiet. “You really are quite lucky I hadn’t known last year, that the Druid child you planned to execute was my son.”

It went so quite Merlin didn’t dare to breathe, his eyes widened at the admission. Mordred had been the boy Morgause had shown Arthur?

“Ar-Arthur, what are you saying?” asked Morgana, her voice very small. “What is going on? Mordred is not our son- our son is dead.”

“He was made to look like he was,” said Arthur. “You had Gaius poison him, didn’t you? And he did, I saw the body, but he hadn’t killed the baby. Merlin’s just told us that he smuggled Mordred out of Camelot.” Arthur shook his head. “You cannot try to justify your actions, this is-“

“Treason,” whispered Morgana behind her hand, eyes wide and angry as she stared at Uther. “By plotting to commit murder on a member of the Pendragon family you’ve committed treason, Uther.”

“You have no proof of any of this,” snarled Uther. “All you have is speculation, from the trickery of a sorceress and the word of a servant!”

“And my word, my lord?” Morgana and Merlin turned (Arthur kept his sword pointed at Uther and didn’t bother to turn) to see Gaius standing in the doorframe, Sir Leon shifting uncomfortably behind him. “How does my word hold up to yours?” the physician sighed. “This has gone on long enough. Arthur, lower your sword.”

“I will not,” said Arthur. “The penalty for treason, as decreed by Uther Pendragon, is death.”

“You would kill the king?” asked Uther, shocked. “You would kill your father?”

“A real king would not kill and betray his own people,” said Arthur, his steady voice starting to betray his emotions. “And I do not consider you my father any longer.”

Uther didn‘t hesitate, straightening his back and looking Arthur dead in the eye. “Then strike me down.”

Arthur swung, only to have his blow parried by Uther at the last moment, pulling his own sword to defend himself. Arthur attacked again without hesitation, backing Uther towards a pillar that stood in the center of the hall.

“Arthur, stop!” shouted Uther, keeping up with Arthur’s sword, but only just enough to keep himself alive. He tried again to halt the attacks. “This is absolute madness!”

“What else have you lied about?!” asked Arthur, his voice strained.

“It is not so simple, Arthur,” tried Uther, his back hitting the pillar. He raised his sword to block Arthur. “They are not lies; I truly believed that boy was dead.”

“We are far past that,” snarled Arthur. “You have not given me any reason to believe your actions were justified.”

“Arthur, please-” Uther grunted mid-sentence, forcing Arthur’s sword away from his body with his own. “You don’t understand-”

“Then make me understand!”

“Morgana is my daughter!”

Arthur’s sword clattered to the ground as he lost his grip on it, stepping away from Uther, his eyes wide. Morgana had gone pale, only Gaius looked unmoved by the confession. Merlin was the first to recover.

“Shit.”

Uther gave him a look. “Very eloquent.”

Merlin ignored him. “Arthur and Morgana are siblings?”

Again, Uther spared him a look. “You have no place to be speaking out of turn, Merlin.”

“I feel sick,” whispered Morgana, moving slowly to the table and sinking into a chair. Arthur still looked shell-shocked, but seemed to have his voice as he pointed shakily at Uther.

“That information,” he began numbly, turning his head to look at Uther a moment later. “Should have been privy to us years ago.”

Uther sniffed. “And what good what it have done, other than insult a good man‘s name?”

“Because we were in love,” said Morgana, her voice breaking. “You should have told us! The moment…the moment Arthur asked you for my hand, you should have told us!”

“It would have been too late, then,” said Arthur, turning toward Morgana. “We’d already-”

“Stop!” ordered Uther, holding up his hand, earning a glare from his…children. “You mean to tell me-”

“We don’t have to tell you anything,” interrupted Arthur. “You’ve been accused of crimes that cannot be forgiven. Your reign is over at this moment, Uther, and mine has just begun.”

“This is mutiny! I could throw you into the dungeons for your actions!”

“And I could have you hanged for yours!” Arthur turned to Leon, who straightened his spine under the prince- under the King’s gaze. “Arrest him.”

“Arthur,” warned Uther, his eyes widening slightly. He was ignored as Arthur turned toward Gaius.

“You’ve served under Uther for years. You have knowledge of his crimes; I will need to hear them all.”

“Yes…sire,” said Gaius, sparing a glance at Uther. Arthur picked up his sword, sheathing it.

“Merlin,” began Arthur, not looking at his servant as he addressed him. “Please come to my room before sundown. I‘d like to speak with you,” Merlin nodded, though Arthur couldn‘t see him. “Morgana?” She looked up at him sharply and he offered her his arm. “A word?”

“Of course,” mumbled Morgana, taking his proffered arm in hers and walking with him out of the throne room. Leon watched them go a moment before entering the room, heading toward Uther.

“My lord.” he said simply, hand on the hilt of his sword, but Uther was staring at the place Arthur and Morgana had exited. Leon tried again. “My lord, please, I don’t want to have to use force.”

Merlin turned away from the sight of Sir Leon placing Uther under arrest, and removed himself from the room, ignoring the sympathetic look Gaius shot him (or it could have been annoyance, his looks were so hard to decipher at times). He walked with no destination in particular, clearing his mind of thought and memory, reveling in the silence. He didn’t know when he entered the dungeons, but he startled when a sudden damp breeze ruffled his hair. He blinked, looking around in the darkness.

“You seemed surprised, young warlock.” Merlin bit back a curse, turning his head up to the dragon looming over him, wondering how he’d let his guard down long enough to be lead down to the bowels of the castle.

“How did I get down here?” the dragon chuckled.

“We all have our secrets.”

“Like Uther?” asked Merlin, his eyes narrowing. “Arthur’s just declared himself King. Uther’s been arrested.”

“Yes.”

“Arthur and Morgana have a child,” continued Merlin. “Mordred. You knew.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’ve been encased here as long as our King Arthur has been alive,” said Kilgharrah. “I know and will know, more than you could hope to imagine.”

“Tell me what happened,” demanded Merlin. “I need to know.” I need to know I made the right decision.

“Very well, young warlock,” said Kilgharrah shifting backwards, eyes closed. Merlin had the briefest moment to wonder what he was going to do, when the dragon’s eyes snapped open, glowing gold in the darkness.

Merlin felt his breath leave his body moments before everything went cold and black.

e i g h t . y e a r s . p r e v i o u s l y

The sixteenth birthday celebration of the King’s ward was not lacking in anything. The hall was literally dripping in silks, dyed gold and red; the kings colors. Gold trimmings shone brightly in the flickering candles lighting the Great Hall, illuminating the rosy faces of the hundreds of people filling it; women draped in heavy fabric and jewels, and knights in threads just fine enough to attend such an occasion as this. It would have been a miracle if the Hostess of the party knew half of her guests.

An extremely exasperated thirteen year old stood at the edge of the party, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the pillar next to him. His eyes narrowed a bit more as another knight walked up to Morgana and bent low over the hand of the woman - the now of age woman, pressing his lips to her skin. She blushed prettily and smiled brightly at the attention.

The whole affair made him slightly nauseous.

He bristled as she looked his way, the charming smile twisting slightly into a sneer for his eyes only. He felt a coil in his chest loosen; she was not enjoying this party. Content for the time being, even slightly smug at the information he now possessed, he relaxed in his position, leaning more heavily into the pillar. A servant passed buy with a tray of goblets, and he quickly picked one up. He hummed in approval against the rim of the copper cup as the alcohol touched his lips. Good, Uther at least had the decency to get those forced to attend this ridiculous event piss drunk.

There was a pretty girl, perhaps a friend of Morgana’s (not likely), staring at him in an attempt to look coy and attainable (not working). He tried desperately not to snort into his drink, but he couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips. Luckily for him, the girl’s attention was attracted in the opposite direction as the newly knighted Sir Leon started laughing uproariously. The sound caught the attention of many guests, and he was suddenly free to look openly at Morgana through the gap of people between them.

His breath caught as he finally managed to see her clearly. She really did look lovely. The deep green of her dress brought out the colour of her eyes alarmingly, the kohl around her eyes bringing them further to attention. Her dark hair was curled around her head like a crown, gold threaded through the strands and continued with the length of her hair down her back.

Morgana must have felt him staring at her; she stiffened and turned her head sharply, looking straight at him, only to relax slightly when she spotted him. Her eyes narrowed and she slipped away from the gaggle of men fawning over her, weaving through her many party guests until she reached him, stopping on the other side of the pillar, leaning her shoulder against it and glancing sideways at him.

“Isn’t this just delightful?” asked Morgana, fluttering her eyelashes dreamily. Arthur snorted loudly, catching the attention of a few of the guests around them.

“Father seems to have outdone himself.”

“And all I wanted was a quiet night in,” Morgana sighed dramatically. “I suppose I couldn’t monopolize the rest of your time this evening?”

He was silent, silent because that was exactly what he wanted from her. He wanted her all to himself, and he was the prince, wasn’t he allowed that? His father’s knights could find someone else to fawn over for the rest of the night; they had enough ale in them not to know the difference. And the noble men didn’t even know Morgana; they only came for the food. And to kiss Uther’s arse.

“Arthur?”

“C’mon,” he said, ignoring the unspoken question in her voice as he reached out to grab the older girl by the wrist. “I want to give you your birthday present.”

He pulled her from the party, but she was willing to leave, and it wasn’t long before they were running down the corridor, ignoring the looks guests were shooting them as they rushed past. The warmth of the party was soon far behind them, and Arthur noticed the further they ran the fewer the candles were used to light the halls. He slowed them to a stop, his breathing rapid and shallow, nearly a match for Morgana’s who had to brace one hand against the wall. But she was smiling at him. He couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered on the quick rise and fall of her chest.

“When did you get so fast?” asked Morgana, still breathless. He could see her cheeks tinted in the dim light and forced himself to look away from her and smirk.

“I haven’t, you’ve gotten slower. But,” he looked at her sideways. “I’d be slow too if I had hips like yours to slow me down.”

She gasped at his words, an overly dramatic sound that made the corners of her lips twitch, and whacked him in the arm with the back of her hand. Arthur laughed at her. She sniffed at him, pulling her hand away and close to her chest, straightening her back and puffing out her chest indignantly, immediately drawing Arthur’s eyes. “Who taught you to speak like that?”

“You did, brat.” She cuffed him again; lightly this time, but it was more of a reflex now than anything, he didn’t even flitch at the contact.

“You said you were going to give me my birthday present,” said Morgana, holding her hands behind her back and looking at Arthur sweetly as she changed the subject. “Well?”

“Give me a minute,” muttered Arthur, swallowing his nerves. He clenched and unclenched his hands several times, trying to ignore Morgana’s bemused. “Close your eyes.”

She snorted. “What?”

“Just close your damn eyes!” snapped Arthur. She narrowed them instead, and glared at him for a long moment before huffing and shutting them. Arthur wet his lips, swallowing once, twice and moved his hands up to brace her shoulders, holding her steady and in place. She smirked.

“Arthur, what are you-umh!” Morgana squeaked in surprise, her eyes flying open, feeling Arthur’s lips on hers. Her heart hammered and all she could do was stand there being kissed. It was chaste, but his lips were wet and warm and the sensation of his against hers had her skin tingling. She sighed after what felt like an hour, glad that he hadn’t pulled away when she hadn’t responded immediately, shifting her body closer to his. Something firm touched her bottom lip and she opened her mouth automatically, heat rising to her face and plummeting into her stomach as his tongue slid across her teeth and into her mouth.

She never felt so much in her life. She felt alive, burning and a slew of other feelings that just couldn’t possibly have names to them. She had no idea when Arthur had pressed her into the wall next to them, or that she’d twisted her hands into his hair to keep him close to her. She hadn’t felt his leg move between hers, but she defiantly felt him pressing it against her. She ignored the heady, breathless moan that couldn’t have possibly come from her. She felt his hands run along her sides, around her back and up to her shoulders. She wondered briefly if kissing other boys would feel like this.

It felt so right in his arms she almost wanted to cry.

“I want you,” she murmured against his lips, pulling away from him as much as she would allow herself to draw in a deep breath of air. Some of the burning she was feeling, it turned out, was from lack of oxygen. As soon as she was finished gasping she reattached her lips to his, but he’d stopped moving. Morgana pulled back, a bit further than she had before to breathe, and looked up at him. He was standing very still, his eyes closed, her teeth clenched together in what looked like pain. “Arthur?”

“Do you know what you’ve just asked me?” he said seriously, nearly interrupting her one word question by use of his name. She frowned slightly, just a furrow of her eyebrows and tried to recall…problem was she couldn’t remember much of anything after being kissed like that.

“That I want you?” she asked curiously, repeating what she’d said a moment ago. Yes, she knew what it meant, she just didn’t know what it obviously mean to him. “What of it?”

“You’ve just asked me to lay with you,” he said. Morgana cocked her eyebrow. That was vague, and he knew it. Arthur opened his eyes, and Morgana stifled a gasp. He looked…possessive. His pupils were blown, his eyelids heavy. He looked like sex and that thought alone had Morgana clenching her thighs. She had just told him she wanted him. Wanted him inside of her, in her bed (or his, his room seemed to be closest, and no one would think to look for her with him). Morgana felt her blush creep back onto her face and she opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to come up with an excuse of some sort…he had seemed like he had wanted her too.

Arthur leaned back into her, pressing his chest against hers, his lips trailing along the side of her face, stopping at her temple. He was nearly as tall as her now, not even an inch shorter, and he was starting to fill out from his training with the knights. He was a far cry from the skinny boy she used to beat when he hurt her feelings, or even just for fun. It dawned on Morgana that he might even know what he was doing now, with her. He’d always been so good looking; it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d taken advantage of his looks and status years ago. He might not be of-age, but he was far from a boy, she could see that. She could feel that - it was pressing against her leg.

“Oh.”

“Say it,” pleaded Arthur, drawing her focus back to his eyes. “Say no and we’ll stop and this will never have had happened.”

He was telling her something important, Morgana figured, but she was too lost staring into his eyes to think about what it was he was trying to say. He was asking her to stop him? But he wanted her, too! She could feel how much he wanted her! It briefly registered that he was giving her a way out, to back out with no harm or foul. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t ever tell me what I do and do not want, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur released a breath he’d been holding while she’d been silent and chuckled. “Thank the gods. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”

Morgana let her head fall to the side, smiling dreamily at him, eyes still narrowed. “You shouldn’t gamble like that, Arthur.”

He shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She may have breathed his name just before he kissed her. He groaned into her mouth, pushing her up against the wall, pinning her with his body. She felt her fingers tug at his jacket, trying to push it off his shoulders.

Then he was setting her down again and she was blinking at him in confusion, wondering why he was stopping again. But he grabbed her hand and tugged, pulling her down the corridor in the direction of his rooms. Morgana stopped them in front of his chamber door, pulling him back to her and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. By the time she was finished with him he was staring at her again. She gave him a narrowed look.

“What now?” Arthur shrugged, reaching up to push her hair behind her ears.

“I’m just surprised nobody’s come looking for us. It is your birthday, after all. And I am the prince,” she shrugged back.

“I’m sure they couldn’t care less,” she said. “Now what is it, really?”

Arthur swallowed, leaning his shoulder against his door, looking away. He was still unsure if she really wanted him, wanted him like that, Morgana could tell. It made her heart break at how insecure he was around her, like he didn’t think he was good enough. She wanted to tell him he was, but that almost felt like an invasion of privacy. Arthur exhaled slowly, perturbed.

“I’m not a virgin, Morgana,” said Arthur, almost a warning in his voice. Bells went off in Morgana’s head, and jealously twisted in her stomach. He continued. “You are. I know what it’ll be like for you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That changes nothing,” said Morgana softly, looking down and away. “Why can’t you just accept my words?” she moved her hand down to clasp his wrist, bringing his hand to her lips. He watched her raptly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if your words are a buff or not,” he admitted. He hissed as Morgana sunk her teeth into the pad of his thumb, wrapping her lips around the digit, staring up at him with too-green eyes. He growled, reaching for the door handle. “Minx.”

She ran her tongue over his thumb to sooth the hurt. “You’re too old to be so shy, Arthur.”

“I’ll show you how shy I am!” She giggled (Giggled! He was in trouble, he knew it. She’d be the death of him one day) as he tugged her through the doorway, shutting the heavy door and pressing her back against it. She went very quiet when he pressed his chest against hers.

In the darkness of his room it was difficult to see much of anything. The remnants of a fire were still glowing embers, casting shadows across the floor and walls and their faces. His nose bumped and brushed against hers, his erection pressing firmly against her thigh, making sure she hadn‘t forgotten about it…

Arthur’s fingers tugged on the strings at the front of her dress, pulling the knots free and the fabric binding her breasts loosened. Morgana took her first real breath of the night, having gotten used to the constraints and forgotten about them. His hands were warm through the thin cloth, and she wanted to instruct him on what pieces of her dress needed to be removed first, but he knew what had to be done. His hands were even steady as they brushed against her exposed skin.

His eyes had been downcast, focused on the work of removing her dress without damage to the expensive fabric. His irises were nearly black in the shadows and they flickered up to meet hers for a moment before they swept down the side of her face and neck. Arthur moved his head down, pressing his lips against the pulse point at her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. He moved his hands away from her body, letting her dress fall away and pool at her feet.

Morgana stood in front of him in nothing but her slip, the most exposed she’d ever been in front of a man, let alone Arthur. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck that, even in the darkness, he was sure to see. He didn’t comment on it, however, but he did pull away, pulling off his jacket and tossing it away. She reached out with one hand, grabbing his shirt and helping him pull it off, her fingers finding the velvety skin stretched over muscle before he’d even disposed of his shirt. Her eyes followed the path her hands were making, down his chest and abdomen. She swallowed.

“I...I want to see you.”

“Morgana-”

“Take them off,” she ordered, even as her hands toyed with the ties of his trousers, the back of her fingers pressing against the bulge in his crotch, distracting him. Unlike his hands, hers were shaking as they undid the knots until they finally came loose. It figured she’d have to do everything. The thought gave her a burst of confidence and (with hands still shaking) she slipped her hand down the front of his trousers. Arthur jerked.

“Ah! Cold hands,” he murmured, even as he leaned into them. Morgana flushed, embarrassed, and tried to retract her hand, only to have it stilled by one of Arthur’s. “’S fine, love, don’t look so frightened.”

“I’m not frightened,” snapped Morgana, her blush deepening as she felt him harden beneath her hand. Arthur chuckled. She glared at him and squeezed, shutting him up with a groan. She blinked, eyes going round. “Did I-?”

“Remember last year when we sparred? And you managed to hit me in the groin?” She winced, remembering how he fell to the ground, surrendering immediately, having to be carried to Gaius’ quarters by a few of the less nauseated looking knights. “Just…don’t do anything like that. Here-”

Arthur released her hand and let her remove it from his pants, his own hands falling to the waistband and pushing his trousers down his legs. Morgana could feel the heat coming off of her face, knew that she had to be glowing as brightly as the dying fire. He ignored her reaction to seeing him nude and reached for the hem of her slip, pulling it over her body. She raised her arms over her head and saw white for a moment until the sheer fabric fell away. Arthur gazed heatedly at her body, taking his time to look at her.

“You’re gorgeous.” he took her hand, ignoring the surprised hitch in her breath when his fingers curled around hers and tugged on her arm, pulling her towards his bed. “It’s freezing out here.”

“We are naked,” said Morgana, proud that her voice still held some provocation, even if it did tremble a bit. Arthur cut a smirk over his shoulder, releasing her hand and tossing back the bed covers. He turned back to her and found her standing immobile just behind him, arms crossed over her chest. He frowned at her.

“Morgana?” she said nothing, just stared at him. “You alright?”

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” He blinked at her, quiet.

“You’re more than beautiful, idiot.” The insult made her smile and she leaned forward, pressing her lips gently against his. His body was radiating heat, hers automatically moving towards it, trying to absorb it. Arthur breathed against her lips. “Lie down.”

The sheets were cold against her skin, stark set against her skin. Arthur followed her, tugging the blanket up to their shoulders and pulling her against his body. Morgana shivered against him, nudging his jaw with her nose until he turned his face down and kissed her properly. His tongue probed against her lips until she opened her mouth for him, her own rushing up to meet his.

He moved slowly, rolling Morgana onto her back and hovering over her, one hand on her hip, the other propping him up so he wouldn’t crush her. His penis was pressed against her leg, making her very aware of their lower extremities. Arthur’s hand brushed up her side, cupping the side of her breast and kneading it in his palm. Morgana heard herself groan into his mouth, arching into his hand.

She whispered his name against his lips, mewling when his mouth trailed away down her jaw and neck. His eyes flickered up to meet hers briefly, (and she should have taken it as a warning) before he leaned down to her chest and ran his tongue over her nipple. She gasped, pressing her head back into the pillows; she cried out when he scrapped his teeth over the tender flesh.

Arthur shifted his position until he was sitting between her legs, mouth still attached to her chest. Morgana lifted her hands to his hair, twisting the strands around her fingers. He pulled his head away from her breasts despite her protest and leaned forward to kiss her, the tip of his erection pressing against the folds of her vagina. He reached between them and grabbed himself, lubricating his penis with precum. He mumbled something that sounded like god have mercy around her tongue. He positioned himself and thrust inside, breaking her hymen in one smooth motion.

Arthur swallowed her cries when he entered her, his body shaking as he stopped, allowing her to adjust to his length. Morgana inhaled sharply through her nose a few times, before the pain between her legs became just a dull ache. She shifted her hips, lifting them slightly, letting him know he was free to move inside her.

After that it was white hot and twisting pleasure pain. She may have cried his name into his shoulder, may have even broken his skin with her teeth and nails as she held on. It was hard to remember, but she might have gone blind for a moment.

Arthur collapsed, boneless, next to her, eyes closed and chest heaving. Morgana pressed her cheek against his shoulder, blinking up at him as he drifted off to sleep. A smile tugged on the corners of her mouth and she closed her eyes, joining him in slumber.

When Arthur woke it was still dark out, and the thrumming echoes of music had ceased. Morgana was (for once) sleeping peacefully at his side, and he felt a very male sort of pride surge through him when she turned in her sleep and faintly winced. Only a little guilty that he was so rough with her, her first time.

Arthur propped himself up on his elbow, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand, staring down at the very nude woman next to him. Her hair was black in the darkness, splayed across his pillow. Arthur reached up with his other hand and traced her face with his fingertips, ignoring the flutter of her eyelids as he moved his hand down her body. When he traced a path between her breasts, Morgana’s breath hitched, but he continued to avoid her eyes.

“Uther is going to kill you, when he finds out I’ve been tainted. What shame I’ll bring to Camelot, not being able to marry a man twice my age.” She was smirking at him; though spoke softly in the darkness. She watched his face for any emotion, and was pleased to see the flash of possessiveness behind his eyes as they snapped to her face.

Morgana nearly mewed in displeasure as Arthur brought the hand trailing across her skin up to her face. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers once…twice.

“He won’t marry you off,” breathed Arthur, but Morgana was lost in the tingling sensations that were shooting through her belly to listen and blinked her eyes open. He’d spoken?

“Mmh?”

“You will not be married off. I won’t allow it,” said Arthur, this time with more power in his voice, authority. “Father will just have to live with you here. No matter how annoying you are-Hey!”

Arthur flinched, laughing, as Morgana swatted him, her lips pursing at the affront. Inside, however, she was pleased. Uther would never listen to her if she objected a betrothal, but if Arthur argued against her getting married, Uther was sure to at least hesitate.

And he did hesitate. The morning after her birthday she was sore and tired but entirely too satisfied to care. Arthur looked positively smug when he greeted her as he sat for breakfast. Uther was already waiting for them at the head of the table, looking as pleased as Arthur. Morgana felt dread creeping into her blood.

“I’ve just gotten a proposal for your hand, Morgana.” Arthur choked on his wine, looking at his father as if he’d lost his mind.

“Father.”

“Morgana is of age, and though I loathe any man who would suggest they are good enough for her, the possibility that King Cenred would offer his peace with Camelot in exchange for Morgana as his wife might be too precious an opportunity to pass.”

Arthur’s blood boiled at the thought of Cenred taking Morgana into his bed. The man was a good twenty years older than them both, (though he didn’t look it and magic was suspected, but Uther didn’t dare press the subject in the few occasions the two Kings had met in peace) and had far too many queens married to him already, only to disappear after failing to produce him an heir. Maybe the man should just accept that it was him who was defective. Arthur thought quickly as Uther opened his mouth to continue to prattle on about how beneficial a marriage between Cenred and Morgana would be.

“Why not Morgana marry me?” Morgana dropped her knife loudly against her plate. A moment ago she had been seething with rage at the thought of being sold, but that rage had very quickly turned into cold, liquid shock. Her stomach dropped and twisted and did an Irish jig at Arthur’s words. Marry her? Would he? Her head snapped around to Uther, her eyes widening with something that felt….hopeful.

Uther was staring at Arthur with his mouth hanging open slightly, looking as shocked as Morgana did, but probably not as half as shocked as Arthur felt. He’d just spoken, he’d not even really thought about it, he’d just said the first and least crazy idea he could think of after axing out the possibilities of poisoning Cenred or sending a servant girl as a replacement for Morgana.

“You want to…marry Morgana?”

Clearly he was unable to back out of this now. Arthur glanced at Morgana, who looked like she’d just been hit over the head with a skillet and then back at his father. His hands were shaking and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded once, firmly and turned back to his breakfast, trying to drown out the nausea churning in his stomach with bread and cheese. Morgana quickly picked up on his terror and started speaking for him.

“It would be so much more convenient to marry Arthur than Cenred, my lord,” said Morgana placidly. “And aren’t you always saying how much you wished for me to stay in Camelot?”

“I…have,” Uther muttered. He was silent for a long moment, a dark look on his face, before it vanished and he straightened in his seat; Arthur and Morgana stiffened automatically, waiting. “I’ll think on it. In the meantime, Cenred will just have to be patient. It seems there are many fine men after your hand, my dear.”

As one, Morgana and Arthur slumped in their chairs in relief. Arthur offered her a smirk, silently congratulating her on their temporary stay of her fate. For now, she would stay in Camelot, an unmarried woman, belonging to no man.

Except for Arthur, but he was an exception she might be willing to make.

Arthur tugged on a lock of her hair as she passed him in the corridor on her way to a sitting room in the West wing of the castle. He was hidden by the curtain he’d been standing next to when she passed, and she squeaked, unable to put up an actual defense other than to drop the book she was holding as Arthur reached out to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her behind the curtain with him; pressed between the heavy red fabric at her sides, the stone wall at her back and Arthur against her front, his erection pressing into the contour of her hip. She opened her mouth to tell him off when his lips covered hers and his tongue cut off her rant. She moaned instead, her hands rising to his chest, pulling him closer by the fabric of his tunic.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, comfortably warm and hidden from sight. Arthur moved his lips away from hers, trailing kisses along the side of her face to her ear, running the tip of his tongue along the shell, his teeth nipping gently at the fleshy lobe. Morgana shivered, rising on her toes to curl closer to Arthur’s warmth. She pressed her nose against his neck, breathing him in.

“Morgana.”

“Not here,” insisted Morgana weakly as Arthur purred her name into her ear. It sent a shock of nerves through her body, and almost as if he could tell, the bastard slid his hands from her waist and down her hips. His hands bunched her skirts, pulling the mass of fabric up and away from her legs. Her own hands betrayed her and helped him hold the material up. He smirked into her neck and slid his hand between her legs.

“Fuck, Arthur.” groaned Morgana, pressing her face into his shoulder. He blinked at her sudden profanity, but decided he liked her better with it. She hissed suddenly and pulled away, grimacing with pain. He stopped, confusion etched into his pretty face.

“Are you alright?”

She shook her head, then stopped and nodded quickly. “I…well it’s all sore down there. I really don’t think we should.”

He considered her a moment in silence, searching her face with his eyes for something. He nodded and stepped away. “Alright.”

“Really?” asked Morgana, confused. It wasn’t like him to back down from something he wanted, especially if Morgana had it. He nodded again and shrugged.

“It won’t be fun if you don’t enjoy it,” he explained. “I want you too, Morgana. As long as Uther doesn’t try to marry you off again, I can wait as long as you need me too.”

She nodded numbly. Had he grown up in the night they’d been together or had he always held some amount of empathy and reason? Arthur leaned in quickly and kissed her cheek, wiping the stupefied look off her face and replacing it with a dreamy expression. He turned and held the curtain open for her, gesturing dramatically for her to step out first, she gave him a curtsey before she did and he followed her, laughing. She picked up her fallen book and continued on to the drawing room she’d been headed to.

“Oh, Morgana?” She stopped as Arthur called her name and turned, but he was halfway down the corridor in the opposite direction. He spun around to face her with a cheeky grin plastered to his face. “I’ll only wait so long.”

He ducked around the corner just in time to miss the book aimed for his head.

He did wait though, he waited until she was ready, but by then they had another problem: Seeing each other alone. It had never seemed to be a problem before, but maybe they hadn’t really been paying attention. Had they really been watched so closely before Morgana’s 16th birthday? It seemed everywhere they went there were knights hovering just out of ear shot. Arthur cursed himself for not noticing, but it didn’t matter. They found ways.

It wasn’t until three months into their affair that someone found out. It wasn’t a big deal, one of Arthur’s servants, a stable hand who caught them together one night in an off shoot of one of the many corridors leading outside. Arthur paid the boy for his silence the next day, making him swear on pain of death he would never tell a soul what he’d seen.

They really didn’t have to worry about him in the end.

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