At My Most Beautiful (19/?) - (Morgana/Morgause)
Title: At My Most Beautiful (19/?)
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6,000 for this chapter
Chapter Summary: Elyan battles to reach Camelot ahead of the invading army and Morgause wields her newfound power against an insubordinate guard.
Series Summary: In a world where things were ever so slightly different, Camelot had a young and beautiful Queen - a beautiful Queen, who was married to a cold and aging King. AU
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, this is purely for entertainment purposes.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18
The letter was sent that evening with the city’s swiftest dove. She was a young, spirited hen with a gold band around her left leg and a flash of glittering gold dye tipping her wings. She had been a wedding gift from a Gaulish prince distantly related to Morgana and Uther both. Her message attached, the snowy white bird lifted off from the Queen’s similarly fair hands, soaring up from the eastern tower. With the setting sun at its back, it was coloured momentarily as pink as the flush of anger on Morgana’s cheeks and then turned as pale as cool skin at her wrist. Its colour made it easy to keep track of through the darkening sky, its gold glistening like a star. Morgana watched until it disappeared from view, wishing she could so easily follow. Reluctantly, she left the window behind when there was nothing but blackness to be seen out of its stony frame, a dark canvas too beautiful and tragic to behold.
The room around her had turned dark and cold whilst she had dreamt. Suddenly she wanted to be as far from it as possible. And then the heavy wooden door swung open and Morgause entered, silver in the light of the moon.
“Morgana,” Morgause murmured, worry in her voice, “are you - are you crying?”
The Queen swallowed down her instinctive denial and nodded.
Slowly, as if worried Morgana might spook like an unbridled mare, Morgause stepped into the middle of the circular room and went down on one knee to kiss a shuddering apology onto the palm of Morgana’s ink-stained hand. Above the splotches of black to which Morgause’s lips were pressed, a slash of Pendragon-red ink dissecting her fine wrist caught Morgana’s attention and she wondered what it would be like to sign her name in purple. It would not have the same power, but she could live with that. Power was not all about titles, though she had given the recipient of her letter all she had in learned Latin in hopes he would come and do so as swift as her dove could fly with his acceptance.
per precibus Eam Celsitudinem Regina Morgana Pendragonde Camelot, née Le Fay de pulchræ Mermering
Her champion followed her gaze to the scarlet ink and saw that the ‘Regina’ from her signature had been imprinted there by the careless laying of her skin on the still wet ink. Calm and still as if she were about to ride out to battle, she pressed her lips upon it, murmuring against the tainted skin a vow of loyalty. It was a vow she would never break. A vow to live by. A vow to die by.
“Get up off your knees,” Morgana commanded, conflicted.
As quick as she could, Morgause got to her feet, her head bowed but not so low that Morgana could not see the smudge of red ink on her lips. There was something about it that shot deep within her and awoke a Queen’s natural possessiveness. She took a deep breath and tilted up Morgause’s chin, tears forgotten.
“If you question me on a matter of state again, then not even the love I hold for you in my heart will save you from penalty,” she said firmly. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Queen,” Morgause murmured, lowering her eyes. “I accept.”
The tower was deserted. Not a soul but the two of theirs breathed within its walls. They were utterly alone, save for the soft cooing of maiden doves in the alcoves surrounding them.
“A Queen cannot be owned, especially not by a knight. You have no rights over your Queen, but you do have rights over me. Alone, you may say to me what you will. But in public you must hold your tongue and be glad that I will allow you to loosen it later.” Taking a breath, Morgana loosened the fastenings at her breast and slipped Morgause’s hand inside to feel the chains of gold. “Feel how I am bound to you, tethered. That is the woman behind the Queen, the one whom your love owns and whose love owns you in return.” She slid the hand higher, up into her hair, stopping short of the silver circlet there. “And here is the Queen whom you may never touch, unless it is where bidden. The same is true of your tongue. Undermine me in public and you will be punished as any knight acting out their place would be. Raise your concerns in private, please, but not where others may hear. It is hard enough for a woman to have power and respect in this world. For another woman, even one who has the honour to be a knight, to speak to a Queen as an equal does not raise the profile of the knight but lower that of the Queen. If Uther is ever to respect me then I must first be respected by all others.”
“You are,” Morgause assured. “Every knight speaks of you with reverence. To them, as to me, you are as close to Godliness as this world has.”
“Then that is reverence, not respect,” Morgana sighed, stepping back to rest her weight on her heels. She was weary and growing wearier by the minute.
“Give any knight of this kingdom an order and watch them risk their life to fulfil your will. Watch them walk for you into this hell of the One God. You command more respect than you know, Your Highness. You always have,” Morgause said boldly, before lowering her voice to a chastised whisper. “From this moment on, I will show you the respect that you deserve and I shall take any punishment you see fit for my failures.”
The dull ache that had clouded Morgana’s mind all day was blooming behind her eyes. In an attempt to quell it, she brought her hand up and pressed her cool fingers over her closed lids. For precious moment, the pain lessened.
“I do not know how to do this,” she whispered, her eyes pinched closed in pain. “I do not know how to be your Queen and your...”
“Then rule me as my Queen and be assured that I will never turn from you,” Morgause said shakily. The urge to take Morgana in her arms was almost overwhelming. But that was the problem, was it not? Morgana was conflicted, unable to reconcile the two sides of herself.
The Queen stepped back to lean against the cold stone wall, trembling. “I do not want to rule you, but as your Queen, I must.” Her lips parted in a sigh and she found that even with her eyes closed, Morgause was all she could see. “But inside my chest, the heart that flutters is already under your rule. My head and my heart are at war and you are the disputed lands that lie like Eden between them.”
“May I?” Morgause appealed, her voice as soft as the caress of a southern breeze to Morgana’s pounding head.
Morgana opened her eyes, finding Morgause more beautiful even than her heart had remembered her. The smallest of nods signalled her acceptance and before she could take another breath, Morgause was before her, warming the very air around her. Her hands rose slowly to rub soothing circles at her temple.
“As you said in your wisdom, my love, when we are alone then we can be whoever we wish to be. If you want to continue as we did at Mermering, when things were simple between us and politics was a far off nightmare, then it shall be so. Then, when we are not alone, I will be your loyal and obedient champion and you will be my Queen. Thinking of it beyond that will only tear us apart,” Morgause whispered, smiling as Morgana’s features softened, the ice of pain melting away.
“How did you learn that?” Morgana murmured, her voice far off and calm. “Your touch, how is it-”
“I have been able to since I was a child,” Morgause said simply, so that Morgana’s suspicions would be confirmed. It was some simple, innate form of magic. Her grandmother had been a wonderful healer before she was put to the sword for her gift in the days of Uther’s father’s reign.
“And being together in this world, can that be as natural?” Morgana wondered aloud.
“If I behave better,” Morgause teased. “It has been a long few days. And though I do not wish to insinuate that this has anything to do with you being tired-”
“But I am,” Morgana interrupted. “My mind is clouded and I cannot think of Eleanor without my heart clenching. And yet, I have never seen her. I carry the future King and yet his father is not the one who owns my heart. I fear more than ever for his coming to my chambers at night, as now it means my certain betrayal of you. That, more than anything, I cannot bear.”
“No,” Morgause said almost sharply. “That - That would not be betraying me. You could never betray me lest you were to give away your heart to someone else.” She brought her hands down to Morgana’s shoulders. “And even then I would accept it if it were what you truly wanted.” She hesitated before asking, “May I kiss you?”
“Always,” Morgana breathed, some of her tension melting away beneath Morgause’s hands.
It was the gentlest kiss they had ever shared. So gentle, that it almost was not a kiss at all.
“This is all that matters to me as far as my own pride is concerned. All I need from you - all I could ever ask for - is for you to love me and let me love you in return, and a promise that you will never feel guilty on my account. Not over Uther.” There was a breath of silence. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” Morgana all but gasped, her eyes swimming with uncertainty. She knew that she had just made a promise that she could never keep.
...
Gwen was waiting for them in the doorway when they returned. As were four senior guards in triangular formation, their leader at the front conversing loudly with Morgana’s maid. There was a resolute defiance in Gwen’s glare. She would not let them enter her Queen’s chambers, be she there or not.
“What is the meaning of this?” Morgause asked, stepping ahead of Morgana to take control of the situation. When they were not immediately forthcoming, her hand went to her sword hilt and she barked, “A knight outranks a guard, answer me!”
“His Majesty was concerned for Her Highness’s welfare. He heard that she had arrived back from her outing but did not see her at dinner as was agreed,” the guard with three gold stripes on his shoulder explained, clearly not liking that Morgause had seniority. A single stripe was earned for each decade as a castle guard. Few made it to one and no one had ever before made three. He was more than twice Morgause’s age and resented answering to someone whom he thought should be bearing children, not arms.
“Her Highness suffered from a headache and took to the eastern tower to get some air. She was unaware that such time had passed as to make her late for her dinner. As you are more than aware, it is not my place to remind her,” Morgause said sharply.
“You should not need to,” he scoffed.
Morgause’s hand tightened on her sword. She had had confrontations with the head of the castle guards before. He had given Gwaine a beating in his first week as a squire. She owed him retribution and she would give it to him if he so much as took a step towards Morgana.
Morgana stepped up to Morgause’s side before she could act or speak recklessly. “Give the King my sincerest apologies and ask if breakfasting together would a convenient rearrangement. I would so hate to have missed precious time with him.” At the guard’s hesitation, she continued in a stronger voice, “Be quick about it, we would not want him worrying unwarrantedly. These are tough times, after all.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” With a half-hearted bow, he turned to leave.
“Black,” Morgause called, bringing the party of four to a stop. “Whilst Her Highness attends breakfast with the King on the morrow, report to the Knight Commander’s office. Bring with you your service records.”
Black paled. “Yes, Si-”
“That would be My Lady to you,” Morgause corrected before he could even finish the offending word.
“’My Lady’?” Morgana questioned with an impish smile when Gwen had shut the door behind them, sealing them inside Morgana’s private chambers.
“Why not?” Morgause asked, matching her smile. Her hand fell away from her sword’s hilt and she crossed the room to Morgana’s desk to scratch out a note to Leon.
“I think you have done well to choose it, My Lady,” Gwen said, coming to stand behind Morgana to place a shawl over her shoulders. “It shows courage.”
Morgana turned to smile at Gwen, stifling an urge to kiss her cheek. It would only embarrass Gwen with Morgause around to see it and through Morgana delighted in seeing Gwen’s cheeks flush, she felt that the ordeal with the guards had been quite enough unsettling for one night.
“Yes”, Morgana agreed, looking back to Morgause, “I believe it does.”
The rest of night went quickly and soon Gwen had taken her leave of them. The deep dark of the bludgeoning night saw Morgana sat light edge of her bed, plaiting her hair as she watched Morgause change. There was as much complexity in Morgause’s armour and uniforms as there was in the finest gowns Gwen could tailor - and Gwen’s talent was great enough that she made a nice bit of extra money making dresses for the knight’s wives and mothers - and though the individual garments of Morgause’s were of much plainer fare, the way they must be layered and strapped together made Morgana’s head hurt. Still, she watched carefully in the candlelight. She wanted to be able to replicate it, the dressing as well as the taking off. Especially, if Morgause was to fight in a tournament or - Gods forbid - a war.
“Do knights usually dress at home or at the barracks?” she asked, tying a thin leather strap around the bottom of her braid.
“That depends on the occasion and on the knight.” Morgause undid a buckle and her swordbelt came loose.
Morgana thought on that for a moment. “The full armour for a battle or melee - who helps them dress in that?”
Morgause’s breeches fell to the floor. “Their squires. Sometimes their wives.”
A smile turned up the corners of Morgana’s lips. “Did you have a squire?”
“I did.”
Though Morgause turned from the light to remove her shirt and slip on a fresh one, Morgana could still see her curves outlined in flickering gold. She shivered and bit her lip, remembering Morgause’s own lips coming away from her wrist smudged with scarlet. Her skin flushed and she forgot the conversation she had been partaking in. It was far too distracting, wondering if those red lips would leave imprints on her skin.
“His name was Ailes - a scrawny little thing, he was, with black hair and green eyes. He was sent to squire for a knight in the thirty-third company when I came to be your guard,” Morgause continued, oblivious to Morgana’s darkening gaze. “He was not half bad, for his size. I think that is why he was sent to train under me. I had to learn to use my stature to my advantage early on in my career as a knight. Every other man out on the field was nigh thrice my size and twice as strong. That I could never change.”
“When you fight, it is like a dance,” Morgana murmured as Morgause walked towards her, her bare feet padding soundlessly across the stone floor.
Morgause smiled and kissed her forehead before moving away again to gather her sword and lay it beside her small bed. Morgana frowned.
“Can you not stay with me again?” she pleaded.
“Uther is likely angry about dinner. He might pay you a visit tonight,” Morgause said softly, busying herself with pulling back her white cotton bedclothes to prevent her from having to look at Morgana.
“Can you then not slip out from beside me when he knocks?” Morgana begged, sounding almost a child.
An icy hand closed around Morgause’s heart. “He will not knock. He never has before once night has fallen.”
This time it was not the wanting that made Morgana shiver. “And if he does come?”
“I will have to wait outside the door,” Morgause admitted, steadfastly refusing to look Morgana’s way. She hated it, hated it all. It was her duty to protect Morgana and she could not do so much as raise her voice to the man who hurt her the most. If she did, both of them would pay. “You should get into bed before you catch a chill, Morgana. The night is cold and a frost is coming.”
“Winter is coming,” Morgana said, quiet and toneless, “there is no doubt in that.”
When Morgause finally turned back to her, she saw the Queen’s right hand smoothing over her swelling belly.
“Three cycles of the moon,” Morgause said, her eyes unable to look away from Morgana’s babe. “They will soon turn.”
Morgana looked up at her and almost smiled.
“Go on now, get into bed. I cannot do so whilst you are not,” Morgause said, trying to smile back.
Her hand leaving her belly, Morgana obliged, crawling up the bed and sliding beneath the covers. For a moment, she lay on her back and Morgause could see the curve of her belly under the silk sheets.
“Do you need any furs?” she asked. Gwen had left some warming by the fire.
“There are four warming pans beneath the mattress,” Morgana reminded her. “You take the furs, consider it an order.”
The spirited way she said it made Morgause smile. “As you command, my Queen.”
As warm as the furs made the bed, Morgause could not sleep. From a foot below Morgana, she could not watch her sleep as she had done when they had been parted previously at night. It had given her comfort to watch Morgana’s breast heave with each slow, deep breath, the rhythm of it eventually lulling her into pleasant dreams. If she tried, she could still hear Morgana’s breaths above the crackling of the dying fire, but it did not do a thing to slow her speeding heart.
Unable to settle, she pulled herself up to sit back against Morgana’s bedside table, the one that carried three candles instead of two. She had to quickly pull her sheets and furs up around herself as the night air bit into her.
“What is wrong?” Morgana whispered in the dark, clearly herself eluded of sleep.
Morgause jumped. “Sorry, my Queen, I did not know you were awake.”
“How could I sleep bereft of your embrace?” Morgana asked, her eyes sparkling in the dark.
The icy hand closed again around Morgause’s heart. “Then come closer, my love, for neither can I.”
The bedsheets rustled as Morgana shifted closer and closer until her breath warmed Morgause’s cool cheek. Morgause slouched slightly and turned to her so that their foreheads could rest together. “At least now we are closer.”
“Would that you were closer still,” Morgana whispered pleadingly.
“Hush,” Morgause soothed, kissing her, though their lips met strangely at the odd angle. She slipped her hand out into the cold and quickly under Morgana’s sheets to lace their lingers together and Morgana’s mouth opened to her. They kissed slow and deep, tingles spreading over their weary bodies. “I am here now, closer than we could have hoped for. The King’s ignorance has served us well.”
“Would that his age serve us better and the night claim him,” Morgana murmured darkly.
Morgause shuddered and pretended not to have heard Morgana’s words. Treason enough passed between their lips. She preferred it when Morgana had defended him.
...
The purple bruise of the sky of was gently giving way to the pale flush of morning. They had been riding for nigh on eight days by then. Anwen had been heavy with child when they had set out and now she cradled their babe at her breast. Brea had been born at the top of a great hill on the second morning, a strong wailing thing that would have given them away if the army was closer behind them. That didn’t matter to Elyan though. His whole world had changed the moment he saw her big brown eyes. They looked just like Gwen’s had when she had been born. He had only been a child then and Gwen had been much smaller and darker too. Their father had joked that it was all the screaming she did, bringing her blood to the surface like a blush did once she reached childhood. He wondered if she still blushed, wondered if she would smile that bright smile of hers when she first saw Brea.
“How is she?” he called to his wife, sitting up in his saddle so that he might see over the blankets to catch a glimpse of his daughter’s face.
“Hungry. She’s going to be a big one,” Anwen answered, gathering up the reigns with one hand and kicking her bay mare on towards the city walls. Like the castle itself, the walls were made of a light grey stone that seemed to glitter in the low light. She had never seen them before. She had never been out of her village before, not really.
“She’s going to be strong, my Brea,” Elyan smiled. “I just hope her aunt will forgive me for not sending word of the wedding. She was always better with Father’s swords than I was. Better at forging them too. I think Father sometimes wished that I was the girl and she the boy. It would have made things a lot easier.”
Anwen turned to look over her shoulder, cradling Brea tighter. “I cannot see them in the distance anymore. It seems Guinevere may be all we have to worry about.”
“Guinevere and Camelot’s King. We have outridden the army for now but they will not be far behind,” Elyan said with a frown. “Ten days at the most. There is no doubt that its Camelot they’re headed to. The wouldn’t have dared cross the border otherwise. ”
“Halt!” came the city guard’s booming voice, echoing in the quiet of the dawn. “The city gates are shut ‘till morn.”
Elyan reigned up his horse and looked pointedly up at the lightening sky. “We are in a hurry and I see the sun rising in the east. Anwen?”
“I too see the sun,” Anwen agreed, shaking the light blonde hair from her eyes. They were far from the gates still, so she needed to shout to be heard.“I have a babe less than two weeks old and we have family in the city.”
As if to aid their plight, Brea began to cry. Anwen broke her gaze with the guard and fussed her babe, trying to quieten her before she broke into one of her deafening tantrums.
The guard’s eyes - the only part of his face she could see - pinched in thought as he watched Anwen and her daughter.
“We have word for the King from the border,” Elyan tried, knowing it could either win them their passage into the city or seal their fate outside of it. “Urgent word whose passage he will not thank for delaying.”
Sighing, the guard banged on the oaken door at his back. “Open up, lads. It’s almost day at any rate.” Then he looked back to the couple on horseback. “I’ll be for it if what you’ve got to say isn’t to His Majesty’s liking.”
“It won’t be,” Anwen whispered so only Brea could hear, “I can be certain of that.”
...
“How are you settling back into civilisation?” Uther asked, looking over a scroll detailing the news from the latest scouting trip to the north. It was an exceedingly short scroll that Morgana doubted gave much news beyond another valley of failed crops, certainly nothing to draw away his attention. He would not be talking to her if it was.
Her jaw clenched at the implications of his words. “It is good to be back within the city. The journey north is never a good one, especially when winter is calling.”
The King made a grunt of agreement. “No matter how fair the city, we all wish it was farther south come the dark months. We will all be distracted this winter though, with a new prince to prepare for.”
Morgana smiled genuinely, stroking her stomach. “Gaius thinks it should not be long before he moves. I will be sure to tell you when he does.”
“I would like that.” Uther looked up from his scroll. “Your guard’s... sister?... Was Gaius able to do anything for her?”
“Cousin,” Morgana corrected. “No, he was not.” She took a deep breath. “I have called for the sleeping specialist you had come see me when I was a child. Sleeping maladies are best treated by such men, it seems, and Dorren is certainly the best in his field.”
In truth, he was the only one in his field that Morgana had heard of but she was not about to admit that to Uther.
“Gaius is a good physician, the best in the Kingdom,” Uther said a little tartly.
“Which is why I have sought help outside of the kingdom. Gaius’ expertise can only stretch so far. He himself admits his ignorance on the topic,” Morgana said diplomatically. “I thought he would appreciate some external input.”
For a moment, Uther considered her point. “True enough. There has not been much call for him to develop his knowledge in that area.”
“And it may be that we can persuade Dorren to stay. I might have problems sleeping myself once your heir is here,” Morgana smiled, trying her best to see the good in her husband. He was not altogether unreasonable. Just a little stubborn. Once he had an idea in his head, once he had taken a position on something, there was no swaying him. Morgana thought it made him a flawed ruler but she would never say it aloud, not even to Morgause or ever her Gwen, to whom she confided all.
Laughter light up Uther’s features. “I do not doubt it. He has proven to be strong willed already. One can only imagine what he will be like with a lung full of air at his disposal.”
Morgana laughed, though the reinforcement of Uther’s theory that her new courage came from the babe stung like a knife. She wondered if she would ever gain his respect as an equal or as damn close to equal as a woman and man can be. “Exactly.”
“There is a feast tonight to celebrate your return and the coming of my son. It was supposed to be a surprise but with your failure to turn up to a dinner you knew wholly of, I cannot rely on you to turn up to one that you do not,” Uther proclaimed, distracted again by his puny scroll. Morgana was sure that he could just not look her in the eye. “It’s about time the kingdom heard the good news. If news spreads quickly enough, the peasants should flock to the tournament to catch a glimpse of you heavy.”
Not for the first time that morning, Morgana bit her tongue to stop herself from talking her way into a slap. The first company of knights all knew already, they must do. They had seen her travelling gown stretched tight over her stomach and she had caught Percival looking more than once. Beyond that, Emilie must had guessed, even though Morgana was yet to catch a glimpse of her in Camelot. Gwen had sent her out for more silk two days on the run to make sure she got the best from both of Camelot’s Persian suppliers. And of each colour or pattern she had been bit to get twice the usual amount so that panels could be replaced as Morgana had the need for them. Fleur too had let her gaze momentarily fall to the swell at Morgana’s middle at least twice whilst they had talked over blackberry cordial. Morgana very much doubted that it would take an announcement for Camelot to be buzzing with the news of an heir.
“We should capitalise on it, give the traders a subsidy keep the market open all week for the month around the tournament. We will reap the rewards if they economy takes a turn for the better,” Morgana suggested, whishing she had not spoken the moment the idea had come out of her mouth. She was not supposed to know about such things, never mind understand them and suggest solutions.
Uther gave her a sharp look. “Whatever would give you that idea?”
“Something my father did when I was a child. He gave the independent fishers at his port a subsidy during the clam season. It coincided with the winter so they were less inclined to go out if the sea was rough. With his help, they could afford to take the risk of losing or damaging their nets. So they went out to sea, even on bad days, and the port saw record catches. Everyone benefited, especially my father,” Morgana explained. “It put the port on the map and soon ships that traded far richer stock than fish were coming into the bay.”
Sighing, Uther dropped the scroll and rubbed his eyes. “I do not see how that applies.”
“If their profits see a rise, then we will have less poor knocking on our gates for a share of our already meagre grain,” Morgana reasoned. “We have money aplenty but food we do not have to spare.”
Uther thought for a moment but did not say anything more. He would never credit her with a good idea but she was doubtless that her suggestion would see the light of day in some form or other. Whether or not the King would respect her more for it was another matter entirely. Most probably, he would just be annoyed that neither he nor his advisors had thought about it first. However his mood towards had been about to turn, she never found out, for at that moment their breakfast was interrupted by a stout knock on the door.
Looking up from Morgana to the hall entrance, Uther bellowed, “Enter.”
...
Morgause felt a little nervous. She had never reprimanded a guard before and had never gone so far as to bring a chastised knight too their Commander. Still, there she was, stood by Leon’s side whilst they awaited Black, head of the east wing guards.
Leon’s office was a dark place not softened by any outfacing windows. The walls were lined with leather hangings bearing the family arms of every one of Leon’s predecessors going back three centuries. Morgause’s favourite was the simplest, a black rose on purple field, its spiny stem picked out in gold - the Wilde family crest. Her father had held Leon’s office, however briefly. Leon’s own crest was a silver and orange fox on a field of black and white diamonds. It suited him. Though the animal was smaller than some of the forest’s other predators, it was quick witted and deft at taking down its prey. Leon had some of the same virtues on the battlefield. It had been what had finally done for Morgause in the tournament. Their styles were just too alike - they had trained together, after all - and so it had been her lighter weight that had won him the fight.
“Tell me again what lead you to demand his presence here today,” Leon asked in a sympathetic tone. He was not questioning her judgement, rather making sure he had all the facts clear before Black arrived and tried to muddy them.
“Her Highness and I returned later to her chambers. We had been in the eastern tower. She was sending a letter by dove and took longer about it than she meant to. There was a dinner with the King that she missed,” Morgause explained again.
“And Black and his men were at Her Highness’s chambers on your return?”
“Yes. He was tart from the beginning. I explained, when raised the issue of the dinner, that Mor-” she caught herself in the middle of Morgana’s name. Leon pretended not to have noticed. She cleared her throat as if that had been what had caused her pause. “-Her Highness had forgotten, that she had been preoccupied. I also said that it was not my place to remind her, though in truth I too had forgotten. It was then he crossed the line, saying that I should not need to remind her.” Morgause’s anger threatened to boil over. “He spoke out against the Queen - to the Queen. This cannot be tolerated.”
Leon put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I can assure you that it will not taken lightly.”
“She...” Morgause took a deep breath, ready to confide in her oldest friend. “She was worried earlier that evening that the people did not respect her.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth. The least of my men would die for her without question. They would carry out her orders over mine,” Leon said, his voice rising with his effort to try to stop the annoyance that Morgana could be made to feel that way from entering his voice.
“Which is why this guard’s remark came at such a poor time. It made my reassurances to her seem like a hollow lie.” The hand on Morgause’s shoulder tightened.
“I am sure that Her Highness would not believe that you could lie to her. Do you know why I sent you with her that day, on the ride?” Leon asked.
Morgause shook her head.
“You are the most honourable of my knights. You are the wisest and kindest. You show more chivalry than the rest of the first company put together,” Leon explained. “No one else was close to being as worthy to protect our fair Queen as you. And His Majesty has seen that. Her Highness too. I saw how at ease with you she was on our short time journeying together. That is what a Queen needs in a guard above all, someone to confide in, someone to be almost a friend.” He smiled at her. “I am proud of you, Morgause. She looks... happier in herself.”
“She’s with child,” Morgause admitted.
“I know. Still, I cannot help but get the sense that having you at her side is helping beyond making her feel safer.”
Before fear could provoke Morgause into denying it, there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t Black.
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