Fic: "A Dark and Stormy Night"
Title: "A Dark and Stormy Night"
Rating: PG
Characters: Arthur, Morgana, Uther
Genre: Gen, friendship
Spoilers: Nothing specific - set pre-Episode 1
Summary: Arthur and Morgana overhear a discussion of Morgana's future.
A/N: This is young!Arthur and young!Morgana fic, written for the "Queen Morgana" challenge at herchampion
The King of Orkney arrived unannounced and alone that night, riding a weary horse, saddle bags packed haphazardly with his crown jewels.
From his window, young Prince Arthur watched as the stranger was challenged and held in the courtyard until King Uther himself appeared, flanked by half a dozen Knights. He could see his father pull the visitor into a rough handclasp, and briskly lead him into the castle, shouting orders to servants and knights as he went.
“What's going on, Arthur?” A voice sounded from behind his shoulder, making the boy jump. He spun round from the window, angry because he was frightened.
“Morgana! What are you doing creeping about the the middle of the night?” he hissed, scowling.
“I couldn't sleep,” she said, determinedly looking over his shoulder, “and I heard the gates open. My room's at the back of the castle, and I wanted to see what's going on.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What is going on, Arthur?”
“I don't see why I need to say anything to people sneaking about in my rooms at night,” he muttered.
“Stop sulking, Arthur,” Morgana commanded, and kicked him lightly in the shin. “I wasn't sneaking anyway, it's not my fault if you weren't paying attention.”
“I was concentrating on the courtyard,” Arthur raised his eyebrows, “so if you want me to tell you what was going on, you better stop kicking me and being generally annoying.”
Morgana held up her hands in mock surrender. “I shall merely thrash you more soundly in the practice yards tomorrow.”
“Father is really going to stop you fencing, you know. He says it's not ladylike.”
“Humph,” Morgana said eloquently. “So, tell me.” She moved to stand next to Arthur, leaning on the windowsill. The moonlight made her pale skin glow.
“This man - not a knight, no armour, no colours - clattered up on this knackered horse. Guards halt him, of course, challenge him, and go and get my father,” Arthur said, excitement seeping through, “who must know him, shakes his hand and drags him into the castle. So it's someone important, but I've no idea who.” His eyes gleamed in excitement. “I wonder - could it be war?”
“We could go and see,” Morgana offered, “they'll be in the Great Hall, or the King's Chambers behind. It'd be easy to eavesdrop.”
“That's not very chivalric,” Arthur frowned.
“You were the one watching them out of the window,” Morgana snorted, incredulous. “I'm going to go.” She turned to leave Arthur's room. “I'll let you know what I find out. Later. Maybe,” she added over her shoulder.
Arthur swore under his breath; but he only paused for a second before hurrying off after her. It was his duty not to let her go wandering about the castle alone. Especially if strangers were about. And if either of them overheard anything, well, that couldn't be helped. In fact, the Prince reasoned as he trotted down the stone corridors of the castle, it was probably a good thing to keep himself well informed on what was happening in Camelot. His father would be pleased; Uther had often said Arthur should take more of an interest in what was going on in the kingdom. The boy quickened his pace further.
Morgana, not even out of breath, was standing behind one of the pillars that flanked the private door to the King's Chambers. “What kept you?” she scowled briefly at Arthur, who just scowled back and tried not to puff. “And shh, I can only just hear as it is.” But she moved aside so Arthur could press his ear to the door jamb, golden head just below her dark one.
The voices were quiet, but so was the rest of the castle, and the children could hear the adults clearly.
“So the northern raiders have attacked you again,” Uther said, in his deep, familiar tones.
“Yes, Sire.” The answering voice was male, with a light, musical lilt to it. “But this is worse than ever before, either in my time or my father's. So I must ask; no, I must plead-” there was a pause, and Arthur and Morgana could hear the slide of rough fabric on stone - “plead on my knees for help. There is no other warrior as staunch as you, King Uther of Camelot! The very whisper of your name and the northern scum will run, leave my islands in peace.”
“Hmm,” said Uther, and this was a very particular phrase. Arthur had heard it several times, when his father was about to say no, but was still considering the most diplomatic way to phrase his refusal. “I could send troops, horses, money and supplies with you. But Orkney is far from my Kingdom: your raiders do not bother me. Why should I spend my strength on your battles?”
“Ah,” the strange voice said, low and sly “I have a proposition for you. A union of nations. An allegiance in perpetuity, between Camelot and Orkney.”
“Sealed with the blood of my Knights?” Uther enquired, mildly. Both Arthur and Morgana held their breath; they recognised the tone Uther's voice took when his temper began to run short.
“With marriage,” the King of Orkney breathed.
“What?” Uther fairly snapped. “You have no daughters-”
“Neither do you - but I hear you have a ward, now. I will take her, and make her Queen of Orkney. The friendship of our nations will be sealed forever...”
Outside the door, Morgana gasped, mouth open in shock. Arthur stared up at her face, but couldn't catch her eye; instead he reached over and snagged her fingers in his. She crushed his hand fiercely in return, and Arthur breathed out, listened again.
“...but Sire, think on it! Of the boats and sailors Orkney can provide, the potential Knights, the power...”
“I said no. I swore to Morgana's father, not six months ago, that I would care for the child as if she were my own. No daughter of Camelot would be used such as a political pawn,” and here Uther paused, before placing his words like slabs of lead, “and none would be sold so cheap.” His denial was unshakable.
“Then you will not help?” The other King's voice whined, “you leave my people under the heel of the northern savages?”
“I did not say that. I will send a company of Knights to aid your resistance, as a gesture of goodwill; but there will be no union, no marriage. Camelot stands alone. Good night to you.”
“Sire...”
Footsteps sounded sharp on the flagstones. “Quick!” Arthur hissed, shoving the still open-mouthed Morgana behind the pillar. They squashed into the shadows just as the door swung open and Uther billowed past, red cloak streaming in the wind of his own progress.
“Whew,” Arthur breathed, wriggling out from behind the pillar once silence returned to the hall. “That was worth hearing. I wonder which Knights he'll send? D'you think I might get to go? Morgana?”
Morgana was silent, still half behind the pillar. Her brow was furrowed and she was chewing her full lower lip.
“Morgana? What's the matter?” Arthur tugged her sleeve, firmly first, then a little more gently. Noisy, angry Morgana was the norm, and her jibes and insults were easy to deflect as set fencing patterns. Seeing his foster-sister silent and still worried Arthur more than he could say. “Morgana?” he whispered.
“I could be gone,” she said quietly, “sent away to some frozen island to seal a treaty.”
“You're not going anywhere,” Arthur assured her. “You heard Father, you don't need to worry, he'd only send you to be Queen of a really great Kingdom...”
At this Morgana whirled and fixed Arthur with her piercing green gaze. “I was sent here, sent away from my home because my Father died,” she whispered. “Sent to a strange place, to be the ward of a man I'd scarcely met. To a gaggle of pitying servants. Forgive me if I don't feel quite secure at the prospect of being sold off as someone's wife.”
She spun away from Arthur and sank to her haunches, forehead sunk onto folded arms. Arthur coughed and twiddled with the tie of his red shirt. “You'd rather stay here than be a Queen?” he asked, brows knotted, “you keep telling me you hate it here.”
“This is all I have to call home,” Morgana said, voice small and muffled. “It's little enough, but worth more...” she sniffed and looked up, “...it's all I have.”
“Well, you're not leaving,” Arthur said, sticking firmly to certainties. “So you don't have to worry.” He nodded emphatically.
“I will sometime. Uther will marry me off - what else am I good for? What else is there?”
“If you marry me, you'd never have to leave Camelot and you could be Queen, too,” Arthur said, in an effort to console Morgana. Her fragility was upsetting him more than he could say.
“Promise me.” Morgana's voice was thick with held back tears. “That I never have to leave, that I make this my home. I can't lose another.”
“My word as Pendragon,” Arthur said solemnly, because there was nothing else he could say. He sat down next to Morgana and shoved her gently with his shoulder. “Although if you find someone better to be Queen for, that's fine. Not that it's likely.”
That comment elicited a laugh from Morgana, albeit a rather damp one. “Don't tell anyone you saw me cry,” she warned, a little more like her usual bright, proud self.
“No one would believe me,” a relieved Arthur said. For the second time that night, he reached over and took Morgana's fingers in his own. And for the second time, she gripped back.
Rating: PG
Characters: Arthur, Morgana, Uther
Genre: Gen, friendship
Spoilers: Nothing specific - set pre-Episode 1
Summary: Arthur and Morgana overhear a discussion of Morgana's future.
A/N: This is young!Arthur and young!Morgana fic, written for the "Queen Morgana" challenge at herchampion
The King of Orkney arrived unannounced and alone that night, riding a weary horse, saddle bags packed haphazardly with his crown jewels.
From his window, young Prince Arthur watched as the stranger was challenged and held in the courtyard until King Uther himself appeared, flanked by half a dozen Knights. He could see his father pull the visitor into a rough handclasp, and briskly lead him into the castle, shouting orders to servants and knights as he went.
“What's going on, Arthur?” A voice sounded from behind his shoulder, making the boy jump. He spun round from the window, angry because he was frightened.
“Morgana! What are you doing creeping about the the middle of the night?” he hissed, scowling.
“I couldn't sleep,” she said, determinedly looking over his shoulder, “and I heard the gates open. My room's at the back of the castle, and I wanted to see what's going on.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What is going on, Arthur?”
“I don't see why I need to say anything to people sneaking about in my rooms at night,” he muttered.
“Stop sulking, Arthur,” Morgana commanded, and kicked him lightly in the shin. “I wasn't sneaking anyway, it's not my fault if you weren't paying attention.”
“I was concentrating on the courtyard,” Arthur raised his eyebrows, “so if you want me to tell you what was going on, you better stop kicking me and being generally annoying.”
Morgana held up her hands in mock surrender. “I shall merely thrash you more soundly in the practice yards tomorrow.”
“Father is really going to stop you fencing, you know. He says it's not ladylike.”
“Humph,” Morgana said eloquently. “So, tell me.” She moved to stand next to Arthur, leaning on the windowsill. The moonlight made her pale skin glow.
“This man - not a knight, no armour, no colours - clattered up on this knackered horse. Guards halt him, of course, challenge him, and go and get my father,” Arthur said, excitement seeping through, “who must know him, shakes his hand and drags him into the castle. So it's someone important, but I've no idea who.” His eyes gleamed in excitement. “I wonder - could it be war?”
“We could go and see,” Morgana offered, “they'll be in the Great Hall, or the King's Chambers behind. It'd be easy to eavesdrop.”
“That's not very chivalric,” Arthur frowned.
“You were the one watching them out of the window,” Morgana snorted, incredulous. “I'm going to go.” She turned to leave Arthur's room. “I'll let you know what I find out. Later. Maybe,” she added over her shoulder.
Arthur swore under his breath; but he only paused for a second before hurrying off after her. It was his duty not to let her go wandering about the castle alone. Especially if strangers were about. And if either of them overheard anything, well, that couldn't be helped. In fact, the Prince reasoned as he trotted down the stone corridors of the castle, it was probably a good thing to keep himself well informed on what was happening in Camelot. His father would be pleased; Uther had often said Arthur should take more of an interest in what was going on in the kingdom. The boy quickened his pace further.
Morgana, not even out of breath, was standing behind one of the pillars that flanked the private door to the King's Chambers. “What kept you?” she scowled briefly at Arthur, who just scowled back and tried not to puff. “And shh, I can only just hear as it is.” But she moved aside so Arthur could press his ear to the door jamb, golden head just below her dark one.
The voices were quiet, but so was the rest of the castle, and the children could hear the adults clearly.
“So the northern raiders have attacked you again,” Uther said, in his deep, familiar tones.
“Yes, Sire.” The answering voice was male, with a light, musical lilt to it. “But this is worse than ever before, either in my time or my father's. So I must ask; no, I must plead-” there was a pause, and Arthur and Morgana could hear the slide of rough fabric on stone - “plead on my knees for help. There is no other warrior as staunch as you, King Uther of Camelot! The very whisper of your name and the northern scum will run, leave my islands in peace.”
“Hmm,” said Uther, and this was a very particular phrase. Arthur had heard it several times, when his father was about to say no, but was still considering the most diplomatic way to phrase his refusal. “I could send troops, horses, money and supplies with you. But Orkney is far from my Kingdom: your raiders do not bother me. Why should I spend my strength on your battles?”
“Ah,” the strange voice said, low and sly “I have a proposition for you. A union of nations. An allegiance in perpetuity, between Camelot and Orkney.”
“Sealed with the blood of my Knights?” Uther enquired, mildly. Both Arthur and Morgana held their breath; they recognised the tone Uther's voice took when his temper began to run short.
“With marriage,” the King of Orkney breathed.
“What?” Uther fairly snapped. “You have no daughters-”
“Neither do you - but I hear you have a ward, now. I will take her, and make her Queen of Orkney. The friendship of our nations will be sealed forever...”
Outside the door, Morgana gasped, mouth open in shock. Arthur stared up at her face, but couldn't catch her eye; instead he reached over and snagged her fingers in his. She crushed his hand fiercely in return, and Arthur breathed out, listened again.
“...but Sire, think on it! Of the boats and sailors Orkney can provide, the potential Knights, the power...”
“I said no. I swore to Morgana's father, not six months ago, that I would care for the child as if she were my own. No daughter of Camelot would be used such as a political pawn,” and here Uther paused, before placing his words like slabs of lead, “and none would be sold so cheap.” His denial was unshakable.
“Then you will not help?” The other King's voice whined, “you leave my people under the heel of the northern savages?”
“I did not say that. I will send a company of Knights to aid your resistance, as a gesture of goodwill; but there will be no union, no marriage. Camelot stands alone. Good night to you.”
“Sire...”
Footsteps sounded sharp on the flagstones. “Quick!” Arthur hissed, shoving the still open-mouthed Morgana behind the pillar. They squashed into the shadows just as the door swung open and Uther billowed past, red cloak streaming in the wind of his own progress.
“Whew,” Arthur breathed, wriggling out from behind the pillar once silence returned to the hall. “That was worth hearing. I wonder which Knights he'll send? D'you think I might get to go? Morgana?”
Morgana was silent, still half behind the pillar. Her brow was furrowed and she was chewing her full lower lip.
“Morgana? What's the matter?” Arthur tugged her sleeve, firmly first, then a little more gently. Noisy, angry Morgana was the norm, and her jibes and insults were easy to deflect as set fencing patterns. Seeing his foster-sister silent and still worried Arthur more than he could say. “Morgana?” he whispered.
“I could be gone,” she said quietly, “sent away to some frozen island to seal a treaty.”
“You're not going anywhere,” Arthur assured her. “You heard Father, you don't need to worry, he'd only send you to be Queen of a really great Kingdom...”
At this Morgana whirled and fixed Arthur with her piercing green gaze. “I was sent here, sent away from my home because my Father died,” she whispered. “Sent to a strange place, to be the ward of a man I'd scarcely met. To a gaggle of pitying servants. Forgive me if I don't feel quite secure at the prospect of being sold off as someone's wife.”
She spun away from Arthur and sank to her haunches, forehead sunk onto folded arms. Arthur coughed and twiddled with the tie of his red shirt. “You'd rather stay here than be a Queen?” he asked, brows knotted, “you keep telling me you hate it here.”
“This is all I have to call home,” Morgana said, voice small and muffled. “It's little enough, but worth more...” she sniffed and looked up, “...it's all I have.”
“Well, you're not leaving,” Arthur said, sticking firmly to certainties. “So you don't have to worry.” He nodded emphatically.
“I will sometime. Uther will marry me off - what else am I good for? What else is there?”
“If you marry me, you'd never have to leave Camelot and you could be Queen, too,” Arthur said, in an effort to console Morgana. Her fragility was upsetting him more than he could say.
“Promise me.” Morgana's voice was thick with held back tears. “That I never have to leave, that I make this my home. I can't lose another.”
“My word as Pendragon,” Arthur said solemnly, because there was nothing else he could say. He sat down next to Morgana and shoved her gently with his shoulder. “Although if you find someone better to be Queen for, that's fine. Not that it's likely.”
That comment elicited a laugh from Morgana, albeit a rather damp one. “Don't tell anyone you saw me cry,” she warned, a little more like her usual bright, proud self.
“No one would believe me,” a relieved Arthur said. For the second time that night, he reached over and took Morgana's fingers in his own. And for the second time, she gripped back.