Poetic Advent - Weapon of Choice 6/7
Title:Weapon of Choice
Author:Poetic Advent
Rating: NC17
Pairing:Leon/Morgana
Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately.
Spoilers/Warning: None
Summary: Written for the KMM prompt, Uther wants to marry Morgana off for political gain. Leon is merely a knight, a dogsbody. Prompt Here SWORD
def: a long blade, edged on one or both sides, with a pointed end and a fixed hilt
A popular weapon, it allows a variety of blows, from cutting to thrusting, while still allowing its wielder to utilize a shield if need be.
SWORD
def: a long blade, edged on one or both sides, with a pointed end and a fixed hilt
A popular weapon, it allows a variety of blows, from cutting to thrusting, while still allowing its wielder to utilize a shield if need be.
"Morgana!"
The hinges squeaked as the door was thrust open, the only announcement of Gwen's arrival other than her sharp call. Morgana stiffened at the sound of it, fingers tightening around the silk in her hands, while the woman from the market grumbled about inconsiderate servants as she picked up the pins she'd scattered at the surprise.
"What is it?" Morgana asked.
Gwen didn't even curtsey. In fact, she didn't seem to notice the other women at all. Her panicked gaze locked with Morgana's. "You must come."
Her instincts urged her to drop what she was doing and obey Gwen's frantic directive, but the merchant wasn't the only other person in the room. Lionel's aunt lounged on a nearby chaise, sorting through various ribbon lengths to see what would best match Morgana's choice.
For her guests' sake, Morgana attempted a smile that was part reassuring, part condescension. "I'm in the middle of selecting the fabric for my wedding gown, Gwen. Whatever it is can wait."
"No. It can't." She gnawed at the corner of her mouth as her eyes darted around to the others, her internal debate between proper etiquette and whatever had got her so bothered warring across her face. Panic won. "It's Sir Leon. He's challenged the prince."
The others might have questioned which prince Gwen referred to, but Morgana knew there could only be one. She dropped the silk into the basket and half-ran for the open door.
In the hallway, she let Gwen take the lead through the castle and into the courtyard. The knights were already assembled there, a barrage of bodies fitted in mail and capes, blocking their way. Gwen shouldered through the crowd, though more fell away as Morgana followed. They came up short against a solid wall of men, Arthur's broad back the central anchor.
Gwen stepped to the side, giving Morgana freedom to grab Arthur's arm. "What's going on?" Morgana demanded. She had to pull even harder to get Arthur to do more than glance at her over his shoulder. She couldn't see past him, which was probably his intention, but only frustrated her even more. "Damn it, Arthur! I know there was a challenge! Tell me what happened!"
His mouth was drawn into a sharp line, his eyes uncharacteristically furious. His anger wasn't directed at her, though; she'd been the source of enough of his ire over the years to recognize its origins. Without a word, he angled his body away from the line, giving her the room she needed to slip past.
When she did, however, she immediately wished she hadn't.
Leon stood at the center of the makeshift ring, his gauntlet on the stones separating him from a hapless Lionel. His sword was already drawn, leveled at Lionel's heart. One quick thrust, and Lionel would be dead. The prince was one of a handful of Brennus's men who were not suited for duty. He wasn't even armed. The scabbard he usually wore-more ceremonial than functional, Morgana had learned-was nowhere to be seen. He looked, from all appearances, that he'd been interrupted in the middle of a leisurely stroll in the country. Except for the tight alarm pinching his already narrow features.
His dark eyes flickered toward her. "This is not the place for a lady," Lionel said.
"Nor is it the place for a common brawl," she retorted. Arthur yielded to her push when she squeezed past, though once on the interior of their battle lines, she felt small and exposed in comparison to all the burly, armored men surrounding her. She lifted her chin and marched right between them to best ignore her nerves. "Is this really how you conduct yourself, Prince Lionel? Should I expect the same displays once we're wed?"
The corner of his mouth tightened in his disgust. "Do I appear to be the instigator here, my lady?" He gestured toward Leon, who had not moved a muscle since Morgana had come through, not even to look down at her now that she stood within inches of his blade. "The knights of Camelot are renowned through the five kingdoms, but if this is the best they have to show for it, perhaps that reputation has been purchased rather than earned."
If these were the sort of accusations he'd made before she'd arrived, it was no wonder Arthur was so angry. Her own fury was rising at alarming levels. "Those are dangerous accusations," she said. "I sincerely hope you have cause for such words."
"Ask your knight," he spat.
What she wanted to do was drag Leon out of there, though the challenge had already been made and without good reason for her actions, she'd just succeed in sullying his honor. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel, keeping her bearing as regal as possible, until she came face to face with Leon. Though she silently willed him to look down at her so she could better understand what was going on, his gaze remained locked over her head.
"Sir Leon." Her voice rang loud and clear, as impartial as she could make it, though she trembled like a reed inside. "What reason do you have to challenge Prince Lionel? He's a guest in Camelot. He's worthy of every courtesy we have to offer."
Leon's nostrils flared once before he spoke. "My apologies, my lady, but you're mistaken. He is not. Just as he isn't worthy of your hand."
Low murmurs rippled amongst the men on both sides. Her heart thudded painfully against her breastbone, choking the breath from her throat, making her skin flame hot. Leon hadn't even gone this far when they'd been alone. Something awful must have pushed him to this point.
"Why is that?" The calm in her voice surprised her.
"He spoke ill of you, my lady. They were not the words of an intended, to say the least."
"I'm certain this must be a simple misunderstanding."
"It's not, Morgana."
Confirmation from Arthur was the last thing she expected, and her composure faltered as he stepped forward. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." He tilted his head down, affording them more privacy. "Leon's right. They were witnesses."
They might have had their squabbles over the years, but she knew in her heart that Arthur would always protect her best interests, or what he perceived as her best interests anyway. "Were you there?"
Grimly, he nodded.
"And what was said?"
"It was nothing," Lionel interrupted behind them.
"You called Lady Morgana a spoiled child who needed to learn her place," Leon ground out. "You did so in front of your men. In front of knights. And when I gave you the opportunity to withdraw your words, you joked that perhaps a public flogging would teach her proper humility in your presence. I hardly call that nothing."
Neither did Morgana, or any of the rest of Camelot's knights, if their fierce glares were a good measure. Part of it was certainly true. She had behaved like a spoiled child when first ordered to marry Lionel. But her behavior had been exemplary since the night she'd dreamt of Leon's death. Nothing had been worth jeopardizing Leon's future.
Lionel had gone too far, though. Complaining about her attitude in private chambers was tolerable. Humiliating her in public, in front of men sworn to protect her, was not.
"If my company isn't acceptable, perhaps we need to revisit our agreement," she said, her tone arch. "I am sure King Uther would love to hear-"
"Morgana." Though Arthur touched her shoulder, the forced evenness of his voice was enough to draw her back to him. "A challenge has been issued."
She knew that, but... "It hasn't been accepted." She ignored the temptation to kick the gauntlet out of the way in case Lionel suffered from a last minute attack of courage.
"There's still a matter of honor at stake. For both of them."
"I'm more than happy to allow our fathers to settle this between them," Lionel said. "It's better for both kingdoms if we concede to their wishes."
Whipping around to face him, Morgana sneered, "And will it be better when you're a puppet king, incapable of standing up for what he knows is right and honorable?"
"Enough!" Arthur's grip tightened to pull her back. "Prince Lionel, a challenge stands before you. Do you accept or not?"
Any fool could see he didn't want to. He wasn't a warrior. He was, however, royalty, and honor, especially when besmirched by a woman, demanded satisfaction.
"Not here," he said when he'd picked up the gauntlet. "I won't fight in the streets like commoners."
Arthur ignored the slur with a brisk nod. "On the field, then. In two hours time."
Morgana quivered in indignation as the knights dispersed. Lionel was the first to retreat. Leon was the last.
When she tried to follow after him, Arthur held her back. "Don't. He doesn't need the distraction."
"No," she agreed. "You're right."
I need him.
* * *
Strapping on his armor was the most right thing Leon had done in days, though it was a little odd that Arthur had sent Merlin to help. The boy wasn't as nimble as Leon was, and it seemed to take twice as long as normal to get everything in place. But when Merlin stood back and gave him a solid look over, the nod of approval warmed Leon through. He understood then what the point had been. A show of solidarity between knights. The silent vow that he stood behind Leon, regardless of how tense the situation had been in the courtyard.
"Is there anything else you need?" Merlin asked.
The tent flap parted behind him, but the quick slash of sunlight was blocked by Morgana's ducked entry. "I'll see to it, Merlin," she said, but her eyes were on Leon, barely cognizant of Merlin's smug smile and swift exit past her.
His throat was dry. He'd kill for a drink of water. What came out was, "I'm fine. But thank you."
She hadn't changed her gown, and her hair was still slightly disheveled from her earlier flight when she'd stepped into the challenge. The fine strands were sharp reminders of each session when they'd squared off, when it was her sword he stared down the length of rather than that of a pompous prig of a prince.
"Why did you do it?" Genuine confusion darkened her eyes, the tiny line between her brows there for him to smooth out if only he was near enough. "You had to know that challenging him like that would endanger the wedding."
"I did," he conceded.
"Yet, you did it anyway."
"I had to."
"You could have let it go. It's not as if there wasn't a grain of truth in what he had to say."
The same rage that had flared inside him when he'd overheard Lionel's insults surged back at Morgana's calm claim. "What he said was wrong."
"I behaved abominably when he arrived."
"For good reason. Uther didn't even ask you what you wanted."
Her frown deepened. "Neither did you. In fact, you said the marriage was for the better."
An acknowledgement that still rankled. He turned away, ostensibly to check the sharpness of his sword but unwilling to betray the true depths of what he was feeling. "I was wrong, too."
He barely felt the blade's edge as he ran his thumb up and down its length. Every sense craned to know what she was doing, how she might possibly be reacting. She didn't make a sound, not a breath, not a whisper. So many seconds lapsed, he wondered if he'd completely lost the plot and she'd slipped out without his awareness.
"You couldn't be." Her voice was softer than it had been, but closer, stippling his skin in goosebumps. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have had those dreams."
He hated her terrors, but in this particular case, he was grateful for them as well. If he hadn't gone to her that night, he might never have decided for certain how badly he needed her in his life. She so rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of him, in front of anyone, and when he'd held her in his arms, when she'd asked him about turning back the clock...he'd known. In his marrow.
"They were just dreams, Morgana. They only hold the power you grant them."
"No." Her arms slipped around his waist, her cheek resting against his back. He wished his mail wasn't in the way of feeling her. He'd missed the texture of her skin along his, dreamt about her hair tumbling down to whip across both of them when she rode him from atop. "There's something I've never told you about my dreams, Leon. Something I've always been afraid to confess."
Though he couldn't see her, he smiled anyway. "I can't imagine you afraid of much of anything."
"I am of this." Her deep breath rubbed her breasts in delicious paths. "I was never sure how you'd react."
The hesitation in her voice bothered him. "You have nothing to fear from me. Ever. I thought you knew that."
"I know that now. Which is why..." She took a deep breath. "My dreams. They're not normal dreams. I...see the future in them."
The last few words were barely loud enough to reach his ears, but the weight of them crashed into him with the force of a hundred men. Such confessions were deadly. Nobody in their right minds would ever make them within the realm and certainly not within Uther's reach. But the fact that she hadn't been able to look him in the eye to utter them proved her sincerity. Morgana found hard truths easiest to share when she wasn't under scrutiny. Teasing, blatant lies, manipulations...those were easy to wear the face of. Honesty was a much harder mask to don.
Though he wanted to convince her into believing it was all a misunderstanding on her part, he couldn't. That would deny both her intelligence and the veracity of her emotions. "Why tell me now?" A safer question to pose. "You've had these dreams for years."
But the explanation became clearer even before she began to speak. All he had to do was relive the night in her bed.
"The only reason I agreed to the union was because it seemed like the only way to keep the dream from coming true. I've made a lot of mistakes when it comes to you, to us, but I won't be the reason you die. I'd never forgive myself if that happened."
"I'm not going to die out there," he tried to assure. "Lionel barely knows which end of the sword to swing."
"It's not here I worried about." Haltingly, she described the scene that had brought out the blood-curdling screams he'd responded to. "And then you came to me," she finished, "and all I wanted was to run away and forget any of it ever happened. I just wanted to be with you, the way I've always wanted to be with you."
Gently prying her wrists apart, he held her still as he twisted in her arms, unwilling to have her run when the air was finally almost clear between them. "You think I don't want the same thing?"
Her lashes remained downcast a moment before she dared to meet his eyes with a stubborn tilt to her chin. "You were more interested in fighting for Camelot than for me."
"You're not the only one who was afraid. I thought I was doing what was best."
"What was easiest, you mean."
He nodded. "It shames me to admit it, but yes, you're right. But I've had to fight for my place amongst the knights for years. I've had to prove myself time and time again that I was worthy of bearing the Pendragon crest. Uther's already made his feelings clear about us, and that was when he thought we were just friends. I didn't know how he'd react if he knew I loved you. I didn't feel like I had any rights to demand for more than the gifts I'd already been given."
His explanation was meant to placate her, to show they both had made incorrect assumptions and choices. The softening of her luscious mouth, the shock in her widened gaze, had nothing to do with being pacified, he suspected, a realization that became certainty as a slow smile lit her up.
"You love me?"
Out of everything he'd said, that was what she'd heard? "Of course, I do. You know that."
"No, you've never told me."
Perhaps not in so many words, but he thought his actions over the years would have convinced her of it without having the actual declaration. "How could I not? You're strong, you're passionate. I'm a better man for having had the privilege of spending time with you."
She cocked a brow. "You didn't say beautiful. Or charming. Or-"
"Because those go without saying," he laughed. Sliding his hands up her arms, he cupped her face, threading his fingers into the thick fall of her hair. "There is no other like you, Morgana. Not now, not ever. You could be the most magnificent queen the five kingdoms has ever known."
"I don't want to be queen. I want to be yours."
He kissed her then because he couldn't not do it. It had been too long, and though the caress wasn't deep, Morgana moaned and opened for more, unafraid as always to show what Leon did to her. How could he have ever imagined letting her go? She offered everything she was, every time they were together, filling corners of his heart nobody else knew, nobody else cared about. Even now, with the wounds of the past few weeks still healing between them, she'd laid herself bare, and the knowledge she was ready to face Uther's wrath if Leon decided to uphold the code and expose her sorcery sealed his decision to stand up for her even more firmly.
"Sir Leon? It's time."
At Merlin's call, Leon abandoned her mouth to rain a waterfall of kisses along her cheek, ending at her brow. "I have to go," he murmured.
She clutched at his wrists, her fingers a death grip refusing him the space to release her. "I know."
"Will you watch for me?"
"I will hail you for all to hear. Lionel, Uther, everyone."
He tasted her smile as he kissed her again, lingering a second longer when she bit at his lower lip. Letting go would have been impossible, but he had a task to do, a right to assert.
Picking up his sword, he crossed the tent, then paused at the entrance. "So you know, I'd planned on challenging Lionel before he ever said anything against you."
Morgana beamed. These were words he didn't have to clarify for her to understand. "Go show them what I've always known. That you are the finest knight Camelot has to offer."
* * *
The challenge lasted less than a minute. As Lionel lay on the cold ground, his breath harsh puffs in front of his face, Leon held the tip of his sword to the man's throat. The gathered crowd fell silent. Everyone waited, including Morgana and Uther in their thrones.
Slowly, Leon lowered his blade and stepped back.
Morgana was the first to leap to her feet and applaud.
Part 7
Author:Poetic Advent
Rating: NC17
Pairing:Leon/Morgana
Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately.
Spoilers/Warning: None
Summary: Written for the KMM prompt, Uther wants to marry Morgana off for political gain. Leon is merely a knight, a dogsbody. Prompt Here SWORD
def: a long blade, edged on one or both sides, with a pointed end and a fixed hilt
A popular weapon, it allows a variety of blows, from cutting to thrusting, while still allowing its wielder to utilize a shield if need be.
SWORD
def: a long blade, edged on one or both sides, with a pointed end and a fixed hilt
A popular weapon, it allows a variety of blows, from cutting to thrusting, while still allowing its wielder to utilize a shield if need be.
"Morgana!"
The hinges squeaked as the door was thrust open, the only announcement of Gwen's arrival other than her sharp call. Morgana stiffened at the sound of it, fingers tightening around the silk in her hands, while the woman from the market grumbled about inconsiderate servants as she picked up the pins she'd scattered at the surprise.
"What is it?" Morgana asked.
Gwen didn't even curtsey. In fact, she didn't seem to notice the other women at all. Her panicked gaze locked with Morgana's. "You must come."
Her instincts urged her to drop what she was doing and obey Gwen's frantic directive, but the merchant wasn't the only other person in the room. Lionel's aunt lounged on a nearby chaise, sorting through various ribbon lengths to see what would best match Morgana's choice.
For her guests' sake, Morgana attempted a smile that was part reassuring, part condescension. "I'm in the middle of selecting the fabric for my wedding gown, Gwen. Whatever it is can wait."
"No. It can't." She gnawed at the corner of her mouth as her eyes darted around to the others, her internal debate between proper etiquette and whatever had got her so bothered warring across her face. Panic won. "It's Sir Leon. He's challenged the prince."
The others might have questioned which prince Gwen referred to, but Morgana knew there could only be one. She dropped the silk into the basket and half-ran for the open door.
In the hallway, she let Gwen take the lead through the castle and into the courtyard. The knights were already assembled there, a barrage of bodies fitted in mail and capes, blocking their way. Gwen shouldered through the crowd, though more fell away as Morgana followed. They came up short against a solid wall of men, Arthur's broad back the central anchor.
Gwen stepped to the side, giving Morgana freedom to grab Arthur's arm. "What's going on?" Morgana demanded. She had to pull even harder to get Arthur to do more than glance at her over his shoulder. She couldn't see past him, which was probably his intention, but only frustrated her even more. "Damn it, Arthur! I know there was a challenge! Tell me what happened!"
His mouth was drawn into a sharp line, his eyes uncharacteristically furious. His anger wasn't directed at her, though; she'd been the source of enough of his ire over the years to recognize its origins. Without a word, he angled his body away from the line, giving her the room she needed to slip past.
When she did, however, she immediately wished she hadn't.
Leon stood at the center of the makeshift ring, his gauntlet on the stones separating him from a hapless Lionel. His sword was already drawn, leveled at Lionel's heart. One quick thrust, and Lionel would be dead. The prince was one of a handful of Brennus's men who were not suited for duty. He wasn't even armed. The scabbard he usually wore-more ceremonial than functional, Morgana had learned-was nowhere to be seen. He looked, from all appearances, that he'd been interrupted in the middle of a leisurely stroll in the country. Except for the tight alarm pinching his already narrow features.
His dark eyes flickered toward her. "This is not the place for a lady," Lionel said.
"Nor is it the place for a common brawl," she retorted. Arthur yielded to her push when she squeezed past, though once on the interior of their battle lines, she felt small and exposed in comparison to all the burly, armored men surrounding her. She lifted her chin and marched right between them to best ignore her nerves. "Is this really how you conduct yourself, Prince Lionel? Should I expect the same displays once we're wed?"
The corner of his mouth tightened in his disgust. "Do I appear to be the instigator here, my lady?" He gestured toward Leon, who had not moved a muscle since Morgana had come through, not even to look down at her now that she stood within inches of his blade. "The knights of Camelot are renowned through the five kingdoms, but if this is the best they have to show for it, perhaps that reputation has been purchased rather than earned."
If these were the sort of accusations he'd made before she'd arrived, it was no wonder Arthur was so angry. Her own fury was rising at alarming levels. "Those are dangerous accusations," she said. "I sincerely hope you have cause for such words."
"Ask your knight," he spat.
What she wanted to do was drag Leon out of there, though the challenge had already been made and without good reason for her actions, she'd just succeed in sullying his honor. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel, keeping her bearing as regal as possible, until she came face to face with Leon. Though she silently willed him to look down at her so she could better understand what was going on, his gaze remained locked over her head.
"Sir Leon." Her voice rang loud and clear, as impartial as she could make it, though she trembled like a reed inside. "What reason do you have to challenge Prince Lionel? He's a guest in Camelot. He's worthy of every courtesy we have to offer."
Leon's nostrils flared once before he spoke. "My apologies, my lady, but you're mistaken. He is not. Just as he isn't worthy of your hand."
Low murmurs rippled amongst the men on both sides. Her heart thudded painfully against her breastbone, choking the breath from her throat, making her skin flame hot. Leon hadn't even gone this far when they'd been alone. Something awful must have pushed him to this point.
"Why is that?" The calm in her voice surprised her.
"He spoke ill of you, my lady. They were not the words of an intended, to say the least."
"I'm certain this must be a simple misunderstanding."
"It's not, Morgana."
Confirmation from Arthur was the last thing she expected, and her composure faltered as he stepped forward. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." He tilted his head down, affording them more privacy. "Leon's right. They were witnesses."
They might have had their squabbles over the years, but she knew in her heart that Arthur would always protect her best interests, or what he perceived as her best interests anyway. "Were you there?"
Grimly, he nodded.
"And what was said?"
"It was nothing," Lionel interrupted behind them.
"You called Lady Morgana a spoiled child who needed to learn her place," Leon ground out. "You did so in front of your men. In front of knights. And when I gave you the opportunity to withdraw your words, you joked that perhaps a public flogging would teach her proper humility in your presence. I hardly call that nothing."
Neither did Morgana, or any of the rest of Camelot's knights, if their fierce glares were a good measure. Part of it was certainly true. She had behaved like a spoiled child when first ordered to marry Lionel. But her behavior had been exemplary since the night she'd dreamt of Leon's death. Nothing had been worth jeopardizing Leon's future.
Lionel had gone too far, though. Complaining about her attitude in private chambers was tolerable. Humiliating her in public, in front of men sworn to protect her, was not.
"If my company isn't acceptable, perhaps we need to revisit our agreement," she said, her tone arch. "I am sure King Uther would love to hear-"
"Morgana." Though Arthur touched her shoulder, the forced evenness of his voice was enough to draw her back to him. "A challenge has been issued."
She knew that, but... "It hasn't been accepted." She ignored the temptation to kick the gauntlet out of the way in case Lionel suffered from a last minute attack of courage.
"There's still a matter of honor at stake. For both of them."
"I'm more than happy to allow our fathers to settle this between them," Lionel said. "It's better for both kingdoms if we concede to their wishes."
Whipping around to face him, Morgana sneered, "And will it be better when you're a puppet king, incapable of standing up for what he knows is right and honorable?"
"Enough!" Arthur's grip tightened to pull her back. "Prince Lionel, a challenge stands before you. Do you accept or not?"
Any fool could see he didn't want to. He wasn't a warrior. He was, however, royalty, and honor, especially when besmirched by a woman, demanded satisfaction.
"Not here," he said when he'd picked up the gauntlet. "I won't fight in the streets like commoners."
Arthur ignored the slur with a brisk nod. "On the field, then. In two hours time."
Morgana quivered in indignation as the knights dispersed. Lionel was the first to retreat. Leon was the last.
When she tried to follow after him, Arthur held her back. "Don't. He doesn't need the distraction."
"No," she agreed. "You're right."
I need him.
* * *
Strapping on his armor was the most right thing Leon had done in days, though it was a little odd that Arthur had sent Merlin to help. The boy wasn't as nimble as Leon was, and it seemed to take twice as long as normal to get everything in place. But when Merlin stood back and gave him a solid look over, the nod of approval warmed Leon through. He understood then what the point had been. A show of solidarity between knights. The silent vow that he stood behind Leon, regardless of how tense the situation had been in the courtyard.
"Is there anything else you need?" Merlin asked.
The tent flap parted behind him, but the quick slash of sunlight was blocked by Morgana's ducked entry. "I'll see to it, Merlin," she said, but her eyes were on Leon, barely cognizant of Merlin's smug smile and swift exit past her.
His throat was dry. He'd kill for a drink of water. What came out was, "I'm fine. But thank you."
She hadn't changed her gown, and her hair was still slightly disheveled from her earlier flight when she'd stepped into the challenge. The fine strands were sharp reminders of each session when they'd squared off, when it was her sword he stared down the length of rather than that of a pompous prig of a prince.
"Why did you do it?" Genuine confusion darkened her eyes, the tiny line between her brows there for him to smooth out if only he was near enough. "You had to know that challenging him like that would endanger the wedding."
"I did," he conceded.
"Yet, you did it anyway."
"I had to."
"You could have let it go. It's not as if there wasn't a grain of truth in what he had to say."
The same rage that had flared inside him when he'd overheard Lionel's insults surged back at Morgana's calm claim. "What he said was wrong."
"I behaved abominably when he arrived."
"For good reason. Uther didn't even ask you what you wanted."
Her frown deepened. "Neither did you. In fact, you said the marriage was for the better."
An acknowledgement that still rankled. He turned away, ostensibly to check the sharpness of his sword but unwilling to betray the true depths of what he was feeling. "I was wrong, too."
He barely felt the blade's edge as he ran his thumb up and down its length. Every sense craned to know what she was doing, how she might possibly be reacting. She didn't make a sound, not a breath, not a whisper. So many seconds lapsed, he wondered if he'd completely lost the plot and she'd slipped out without his awareness.
"You couldn't be." Her voice was softer than it had been, but closer, stippling his skin in goosebumps. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have had those dreams."
He hated her terrors, but in this particular case, he was grateful for them as well. If he hadn't gone to her that night, he might never have decided for certain how badly he needed her in his life. She so rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of him, in front of anyone, and when he'd held her in his arms, when she'd asked him about turning back the clock...he'd known. In his marrow.
"They were just dreams, Morgana. They only hold the power you grant them."
"No." Her arms slipped around his waist, her cheek resting against his back. He wished his mail wasn't in the way of feeling her. He'd missed the texture of her skin along his, dreamt about her hair tumbling down to whip across both of them when she rode him from atop. "There's something I've never told you about my dreams, Leon. Something I've always been afraid to confess."
Though he couldn't see her, he smiled anyway. "I can't imagine you afraid of much of anything."
"I am of this." Her deep breath rubbed her breasts in delicious paths. "I was never sure how you'd react."
The hesitation in her voice bothered him. "You have nothing to fear from me. Ever. I thought you knew that."
"I know that now. Which is why..." She took a deep breath. "My dreams. They're not normal dreams. I...see the future in them."
The last few words were barely loud enough to reach his ears, but the weight of them crashed into him with the force of a hundred men. Such confessions were deadly. Nobody in their right minds would ever make them within the realm and certainly not within Uther's reach. But the fact that she hadn't been able to look him in the eye to utter them proved her sincerity. Morgana found hard truths easiest to share when she wasn't under scrutiny. Teasing, blatant lies, manipulations...those were easy to wear the face of. Honesty was a much harder mask to don.
Though he wanted to convince her into believing it was all a misunderstanding on her part, he couldn't. That would deny both her intelligence and the veracity of her emotions. "Why tell me now?" A safer question to pose. "You've had these dreams for years."
But the explanation became clearer even before she began to speak. All he had to do was relive the night in her bed.
"The only reason I agreed to the union was because it seemed like the only way to keep the dream from coming true. I've made a lot of mistakes when it comes to you, to us, but I won't be the reason you die. I'd never forgive myself if that happened."
"I'm not going to die out there," he tried to assure. "Lionel barely knows which end of the sword to swing."
"It's not here I worried about." Haltingly, she described the scene that had brought out the blood-curdling screams he'd responded to. "And then you came to me," she finished, "and all I wanted was to run away and forget any of it ever happened. I just wanted to be with you, the way I've always wanted to be with you."
Gently prying her wrists apart, he held her still as he twisted in her arms, unwilling to have her run when the air was finally almost clear between them. "You think I don't want the same thing?"
Her lashes remained downcast a moment before she dared to meet his eyes with a stubborn tilt to her chin. "You were more interested in fighting for Camelot than for me."
"You're not the only one who was afraid. I thought I was doing what was best."
"What was easiest, you mean."
He nodded. "It shames me to admit it, but yes, you're right. But I've had to fight for my place amongst the knights for years. I've had to prove myself time and time again that I was worthy of bearing the Pendragon crest. Uther's already made his feelings clear about us, and that was when he thought we were just friends. I didn't know how he'd react if he knew I loved you. I didn't feel like I had any rights to demand for more than the gifts I'd already been given."
His explanation was meant to placate her, to show they both had made incorrect assumptions and choices. The softening of her luscious mouth, the shock in her widened gaze, had nothing to do with being pacified, he suspected, a realization that became certainty as a slow smile lit her up.
"You love me?"
Out of everything he'd said, that was what she'd heard? "Of course, I do. You know that."
"No, you've never told me."
Perhaps not in so many words, but he thought his actions over the years would have convinced her of it without having the actual declaration. "How could I not? You're strong, you're passionate. I'm a better man for having had the privilege of spending time with you."
She cocked a brow. "You didn't say beautiful. Or charming. Or-"
"Because those go without saying," he laughed. Sliding his hands up her arms, he cupped her face, threading his fingers into the thick fall of her hair. "There is no other like you, Morgana. Not now, not ever. You could be the most magnificent queen the five kingdoms has ever known."
"I don't want to be queen. I want to be yours."
He kissed her then because he couldn't not do it. It had been too long, and though the caress wasn't deep, Morgana moaned and opened for more, unafraid as always to show what Leon did to her. How could he have ever imagined letting her go? She offered everything she was, every time they were together, filling corners of his heart nobody else knew, nobody else cared about. Even now, with the wounds of the past few weeks still healing between them, she'd laid herself bare, and the knowledge she was ready to face Uther's wrath if Leon decided to uphold the code and expose her sorcery sealed his decision to stand up for her even more firmly.
"Sir Leon? It's time."
At Merlin's call, Leon abandoned her mouth to rain a waterfall of kisses along her cheek, ending at her brow. "I have to go," he murmured.
She clutched at his wrists, her fingers a death grip refusing him the space to release her. "I know."
"Will you watch for me?"
"I will hail you for all to hear. Lionel, Uther, everyone."
He tasted her smile as he kissed her again, lingering a second longer when she bit at his lower lip. Letting go would have been impossible, but he had a task to do, a right to assert.
Picking up his sword, he crossed the tent, then paused at the entrance. "So you know, I'd planned on challenging Lionel before he ever said anything against you."
Morgana beamed. These were words he didn't have to clarify for her to understand. "Go show them what I've always known. That you are the finest knight Camelot has to offer."
* * *
The challenge lasted less than a minute. As Lionel lay on the cold ground, his breath harsh puffs in front of his face, Leon held the tip of his sword to the man's throat. The gathered crowd fell silent. Everyone waited, including Morgana and Uther in their thrones.
Slowly, Leon lowered his blade and stepped back.
Morgana was the first to leap to her feet and applaud.
Part 7