Wants and Needs: Chapter 3
Title: Wants and Needs
Pairing: Arthur/OC, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17 (for later chapters)
Genre: Angst
Word Count: ~1700
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I just take them out to play every now and again. No copyright infringement intended
Summary: Morgana and Mordred plot their revenge upon Camelot
Warnings:
Wants and Needs
Chapter 3: What Vengeance Compels
(5 Months earlier)
Morgana lay on the forest floor trying to understand all the power rushing through her veins. The baby dragon was still sitting there, a few feet away, but he didn’t seem intent on harming her. In fact, it seemed as though he had healed her.
Morgana thought back to her defeat in Camelot, and suddenly she understood that Merlin had magic. He must have been the one who caused the ceiling to collapse on her. He must somehow be tied to Emyrs. Then, the tiny dragon’s breath still coursing through her veins, Morgana stilled as it sent images into her mind. First it showed her Merlin’s face and then showed her his true name: Emyrs, Dragonlord, Merlin. Morgana’s face twisted into a cruel smile as she began plotting her revenge, until she remembered, at that very moment, Camelot was celebrating her defeat as she sat there on the cold forest floor, alone. Her howl of rage echoed through the forest.
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Meanwhile, Mordred had not fared so well amongst the Druids. The anger and bitterness he carried inside him could no longer be controlled, so they cast him out from their circle. They considered themselves a peaceful people, and they wanted nothing to do with this child’s hatred or thirst for revenge. Mordred wandered the wilderness alone and friendless until the day he heard Morgana’s scream of rage just inside the edge of his mind. He recognized the scream, so he followed its thread over several weeks until he found Morgana sitting among a small group of renegade knights, bandits, and killers in a small glade in the forest. As he stepped into the clearing, all of the men leap to their feet, weapons drawn. Morgana also leapt to her feet, and thrust her hands forward with a hiss, preparing to strike.
Peace, sister he whispered in her mind. We share the same desires. Morgana didn’t attack, but she didn’t relax either. The men surround him, but they did not strike, awaiting the command of their witch.
“Mordred,” she gasped in surprise.
Yes, he replied, still speaking silently.
“You have grown. I hardly recognize the child I once rescued from the pyre.”
I have grown since last we met, Mordred agreed.
Morgana could see that his power had indeed grown in the two years since they had last seen each other, but he still looked like an ordinary ten year-old boy to anyone who could not feel the magic pulsing through his veins.
We should discuss many things. Perhaps you could order your men to withdraw?
“Not until your intentions are clear,” she replied haughtily.
I wish to make Camelot pay for their crimes against our kind. I would see the King on his knees, he declared, sounding much older than his ten years would imply.
“Perhaps there is much for us to discuss after all,” Morgana agreed. And with a wave of her hand, the men sheathed their weapons and returned to their seats around the fire.
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Over the next week, they learned to trust each other (somewhat) and began practicing combining their powers to take control of all nine of the men’s minds in their band, turning them into puppets. The men quickly learned to obey Morgana’s slightest whim, and they came to dread Mordred’s silent evil whispers of madness and death to any who dared disobeyed them. Soon, each man was little more than a living puppet.
Late at night, Mordred and Morgana often sat silently around the campfire discussing how to take their revenge upon Merlin, Arthur, and Camelot. The more time they spent in each other’s company, the more their powers learned to work together. Each day that passed, the light in the clearing grew dimmer until a cold mist continuously enveloped the small band of outlaws. Together, they learned to control the mist, and use it to shield their magical presence and attack hapless travelers along the road.
Late one night, after the men had fallen asleep, Morgana and Mordred remained at the fire arguing.
“You're not listening; we cannot control everyone in Camelot. The people,” Morgana snorted “love their King and his serving-wench the Queen. They will never accept my rule, so we must destroy the city entirely if we are to win. But without an army we have no chance. We may be able to control these few feeble minds, but we cannot control all the people in Camelot.”
Why? asked Mordred. Why defeat the entire city if you only need to overcome its King?
“Killing Arthur is no easy task. I have defeated him before, but the people, the knights refused to bow to my will. Camelot is mine. I WILL BE QUEEN! It is my birthright. I will not stand to see that, that, wench sit upon my throne. But merely defeating Arthur will not give me control of the kingdom. We need more.”
But what you want is power, and revenge, of course. You don't need the crown to achieve that.
“What! I told you, the crown is mine. I am Uther’s true daughter. The crown belongs to me! Besides, you know Merlin defends Arthur and his wench. His magic is too powerful, and even if our combined magic could somehow bind him, he still has command of the dragons. He is just too powerful,” she said wrathfully. “He has denied me at every turn. Even if we could lure him out of Camelot, we could not defeat him. No. Once again, Merlin stands in our way, and we cannot move on Camelot until he is eliminated.”
Very well Mordred sighed. Although I dream of Merlin suffer one day for his crimes against our brethren, I, too, am willing to compromise. First, we must conquer Camelot, and once we have amassed enough power - then we will take our revenge on Emrys.
“As I said, we have no army,” Morgana repeated, “and we are not powerful enough to control the minds of every person in the city.”
Then we must use cunning, Mordred replied.
“How?” Morgana asked exasperatedly.
The only way to bring about the Camelot’s destruction is to destroy the King. Tell me, what does he hold most dearly? What is it that gives him the power to control the realm?
“I told you,” Morgana hissed “the people love him.”
Then that is what we must attack, Mordred countered. You must accept that the crown cannot be achieved by force. We must find a way to change how the people of Camelot feel about their King, and break him in front of his loyal Knights. We must destroy his reputation and bring him low before his people. We must humiliate him beyond redemption, so he can never recover. Then, you could enter the citadel as their Savior, restoring Camelot to her former glory. It is the only way you'll gain the throne. Only then will they accept you as their Savior Queen and the true Pendragon heir.
“Humiliate Arthur? Oh yes, I would like that. My revenge would only feel complete if I could force Arthur to kneel at my feet.” Morgana’s eyes glowed at the prospect.
Their conversation continued long into the night, often running in circles, examining plan after plan before discarding it as useless. But bit by bit, they formed a cunning plan to take the city by stealth rather than force.
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A few weeks later Morgana disguised herself as an old woman once again, and entered a small township on the far edge of Camelot. She wandered through the marketplace, listening to all the vendors and the people who moved around her, but who instinctively avoided her. When she stopped beside a vendor’s stall, fingering the rich velvety cloth that reminded her of all she had lost. The merchant began toward her to stop her from fingering his wares, but quickly retreated when Morgana looked up and gave him a look so malevolent, he backed away in fear. Morgana knew she had to be more careful or word of her presence would reach the wrong ears, so she dropped the cloth and moved away. The merchant sighed in relief. As she turned a corner, she overheard two women gossiping. Morgana stopped quickly and hid herself in a nearby doorway when she heard one of them mention the King.
“Yes” one of them whispered. “He was the Kings personal manservant I heard. He was a sorcerer, hidden right in the heart of Camelot. He had been hiding there for years.”
“In Camelot? For years?” gasped the other one, clearly relishing the new gossip.
“Plotting some evil or other,” confided the first.
“What happened? How was he found out? How was he killed?” asked the other.
“I heard he escaped,” whispered the first, “right from under the Kings nose.”
The second woman gasped.
Morgana’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she ran from the marketplace toward the forest. She could hardly believe their luck. Arthur had removed the one thing that stood in their way. That arrogant prat had banned the one person Morgana feared. Now all their dreams and planning could finally come true. She would be Queen of Camelot.
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Morgana raced back to the glade where Mordred and their men waited. She quickly told Mordred all she had overheard. “We must act,” she cried. “We must act now. Merlin has left the city. He cannot return. Camelot is defenseless against us. We must gather ourselves and move, NOW.”
Mordred agreed that this opportunity was too good to ignore, so they forced the men to quickly pack their camp. Within moments, they traveled down the road towards Camelot, their plans ready to be put in motion.
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