The Long Road Home, Ch. 4

Apr 13, 2010 14:25

I figure there is no point to still post the summary, because I've posted enough by now that you already know if you want to read it or not. :D

Thanks as always for your support and comments. <3

CHAPTER 4



The next morning came far too quickly for Morgana’s preference. Whatever Gaius had put in the last batch of sleeping draught had worked, thankfully, because she had managed to sleep well and woke rested. Now, standing in front of the wash bin, she splashed her face and studied her reflection in the mirror. She rubbed a bit of rouge on her cheeks and lips, in hopes that it would brighten her pale complexion.

“I should wear only my shift, rub some dirt on my face, and run around the room shouting as though I am mad,” she declared out loud. “Perhaps then Tormod’s ambassador would be frightened off, and the marriage would be cancelled.”

“And you would bring great embarrassment to Uther and Camelot,” Gwen pointed out, readying the gown she had helped Morgana choose for the day’s events.

“Do you have to be so reasonable all the time?” Morgana asked in an affectionate rebuke, as she dabbed rosewater on her wrists and neck. “At least I can have some fun in my day dreams.”

Gwen chuckled. “Uther would simply insist that you had been enchanted, cast blame on the nearest person, and send you off to Gleanntan anyway.”

“I suppose he would.” Still, her mind reeled almost constantly with ideas for escape.

Gwen then helped Morgana into her gown - a deep burgundy velvet with ermine trim and silver threads. It was beautiful and most regal looking, but terribly heavy and hot. Her hair, hanging in loose waves around her shoulders, was pinned back above one ear with a jeweled pin. Reluctantly, around her neck she fastened the ruby Tormod had sent her. To her it was as worthless as a stray piece of steel from the blacksmith’s shop floor, but she supposed the correct thing to do was wear it.

Her maid studied her proudly. “You look incredible, my Lady,” she gushed, clasping her hands. “The ambassador will be blown away by your beauty. Everyone will be.”

“That’s not exactly my goal,” Morgana sighed, rather unimpressed with her reflection as she ran her hands over the smooth fabric. Her outward appearance was one of great beauty, but surely they would all see the pain in her eyes? She did hope that Arthur found her to be beautiful. He was the only one who truly made her feel lovely, inside and out.

A knock sounded at the door, and Gwen opened it to reveal Merlin. “They’ve asked me to send for you. It’s time,” he explained. Although smiling, he sounded apologetic. Through the open door, she caught the distant strains of a lute, and the buzz of people talking downstairs.

“Ready?” asked Gwen, squeezing her arm lightly.

“Never. But let’s go get this over with.” Steeling herself, lifting her chin high, Morgana stepped past her friends and lead the way downstairs. Despite being nervous, she allowed her sense of pride, and the pangs of anger, to propel her forward.

Camelot’s Great Hall was filled with people, courtiers anxious to see the ambassador and witness Morgana’s first meeting with him. Musicians were playing a lively tune. When she entered, the crowd whispered their admiration, and moved aside so that she could make her way to the front of the room where Uther and Arthur were waiting. Bowing to each, she took a seat between them, not daring to make eye contact with Arthur. She felt comforted by their presence, knowing this would likely be the last time she were there with them to receive a visitor, and the last time she would have them as pillars of support. Seeing familiar faces - including Gwen, Gaius, and Merlin - in the crowd was bittersweet. How she would miss them all! Arthur was staring at her - she knew it, could feel his admiring glance - and her cheeks flushed. She avoided looking back at him for fear she would break down in tears. A knot formed in her stomach, the hand of anxiety twisting her insides. Breathe, Morgana, she commanded herself. Show them all how strong you are.

Then, the music came to a halt and the crowd hushed. A middle-aged man with oily black hair and high cheekbones strode down the aisle and stopped to bow in front of them. Morgana noticed his absurd green hat, complete with tassels and what looked like the feathers of a falcon. She hoped that wasn’t indicative of the fashion practices in Gleanntan.

“Your Majesty,” he spoke to Uther. “I am Sir Tavis, ambassador of His Majesty King Tormod of Gleanntan.”

“Rise, Sir Tavis,” Uther commanded, standing up. “Allow me to introduce you to the Lady Morgana.” At his gesture, Arthur and Morgana stood. Uther put his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her forward.

The strange man reached out and grasped her fingers. “It’s a pleasure to meet my future queen. Your beauty is incomparable.” When he kissed Morgana’s hand, a wave of nausea nearly overwhelmed her. Forcing a smile, she nodded politely. It felt strange, the idea of being a queen. She had always imagined herself as Arthur’s future queen, but that fantasy was more about being with Arthur, than of being royalty. The thought of such trappings did little to excite her.

Tavis pulled a velvet pouch from his jacket. “My most generous Master is greatly looking forward to the day when he will at last meet you,” he explained loudly, so all the people could hear. “He has sent you this token of his love and devotion, to tide you over until then.” From the pouch he pulled out another jewel - this one a gold chain with a blue diamond dangling from it. Its dazzling enormity made the crowd gasp.

Morgana nearly snorted. Love? Tormod didn’t even know her. All he had seen was a portrait, and Tavis would no doubt be giving his master a full report of her physical traits, but the woman she was couldn’t be portrayed that easily.

She wanted to hurl the gem against the wall and see it shatter in a hundred pieces, the same way her heart had been. There was an awkward moment as everyone waited for her to speak, to gush over the gift and her future husband’s token of affection. Everyone looked pleased and proud, and Morgana wondered how it was that they didn’t realize the hell she was going through. How could everyone be so blind?

“Tell your master,” she began with an edge to her voice, then paused. She could feel Uther’s eyes on her, the weight of duty pressing down heavily on her shoulders. Forcing another smile, she said, “tell your master I am grateful. Send him my thanks for this… lovely gift.” She fingered the necklace, which was cold and heavy and held no attraction at all. Like chains and cuffs in the dungeon, this was merely to keep her restrained and controlled. Never, she vowed to herself, would this king truly own her.

Tavis bowed again. “I look forward to talking with you further, My Lady.”

Uther thanked Tavis for coming, and the crowd erupted into applause.

Relieved that the strange ceremony was over, Morgana stood up and grabbed a glass of wine from a wandering maid’s tray. Her knees were shaking, she realized, and a trickle of sweat ran down her neck. It was suffocating - in this room, in this dress, in this engagement. Wondering where Arthur was - was he avoiding her? - she craned her neck, but couldn’t see him amongst the people.

“My Lady, are you all right?”

She turned to see Merlin’s sweet, smiling face. She was going to miss his friendship so much. He was one of the few people in Camelot she trusted without limit. “Is my disdain that obvious?” she asked.

“Of course not, I just… I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now.”

“I’m fine, Merlin, thank you. I just need to collect myself.” She smiled sheepishly as she held up her cup. “I was hoping the wine might help me with that.”

He nodded understandingly. “It’s overwhelming, I’m sure. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes, actually.” Glancing around and seeing that Uther and Tavis were involved in a deep conversation, she leaned to Merlin’s ear. “I’m roasting like a duck in this gown. I’m going to go change into something else. Tell them I will be late for the meal,” she whispered.

* ~ * ~ *

Arthur didn’t like Tavis from the first moment he saw him. The man was so transparent, the sniveling little self-important prick that he was. Throughout the meeting he had been eyeing Morgana in a most improper way, and it made Arthur’s hackles rise. It was bad enough to have to witness this, but now he was expected to dine with Tavis, alongside his father and Morgana, at noon. As soon as the official greeting was over and the courtiers began to disperse, Arthur made a break for the exit. He couldn’t stand it, because witnessing such formality made this all so real. Morgana was leaving - leaving Camelot, leaving him.

He stepped out onto the balcony adjoining the hall, inhaling the cool air. It was unusually chilly for Spring, but it helped the throbbing behind his temples.

“Pardon me, Sire?”

Arthur jumped at the voice coming from behind him, unaware that anyone else had joined him. He turned to find a short servant with dark hair and large blue eyes, likely around fifteen years old, bowing awkwardly. His hair was messy and his smile revealed a missing upper tooth. Arthur guessed the boy hadn’t had much experience in dealing with people of his caliber. “Who are you?” he snapped impatiently. This was simply not the time for a friendly chat.

“Kian’s the name,” the boy explained. “Manservant to the ambassador Tavis. I am to find out the Lady Morgana’s desires for her new chambers at Gleanntan. I was instructed to speak to you, Sire.”

Arthur nodded, softening a little. Oh, that’s right - his father had told him about this. Tavis was to be collecting information so that her new home could be made ready. “All right, then. I know her preferences very well.” Better than anyone could imagine, he thought. He knew how she liked to be kissed, her favorite time of year, how many pillows she slept with. There were things about Morgana that no one else but he could ever understand.

“She is like a sister to you, I’m sure, Sire,” Kian remarked.

In an instinctive reaction of fury, Arthur withdrew his sword and pointed it at Kian’s chest. “She is not my sister! We are of no blood relation.” The idea of people considering them to be siblings - compared to what they actually did mean to each other - was sickening. “Don’t ever speak of her like that again, do you understand?”

The young man’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head in surprise and fear, and he nodded. Arthur felt ashamed, and sheathed his sword once again. Perhaps he had reacted too quickly - the words hadn’t been meant as an offense. “Forgive me,” he said quickly. “I overreacted.”

Kian gulped, then waved his hand casually, as if he hadn’t been bothered at all. “Never mind, never mind. Now, would the Lady Morgana prefer chambers with a view looking out over the lake, or the forest?”

And for the next half hour, Kian rattled off a list of questions pertaining to Morgana’s likes and dislikes - what color curtains would suit her, was she easily susceptible to chill, and what time did she rise to break her fast. Arthur passed on what he knew, and was grateful when Merlin came to the balcony to summon him for the meal.

“The King is asking for you now,” Merlin hissed through the door. “And Morgana says she will be a little late.”

Grateful for the interruption, and anxious to drown his sorrows in some strong beverage, Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder. “Merlin, this is Kian. Kian, meet my manservant, Merlin. Show Kian around Camelot, would you?” He ignored Merlin’s annoyed glare as he left them.

Uther and Tavis were already seated in the dining room. Tavis leapt to his feet in an overly enthusiastic display of respect when Arthur entered.

“You remember my son, Prince Arthur,” Uther said to Tavis, who bowed stiffly as Arthur plopped down in his chair.

“Your sister is breath-taking,” Tavis told Arthur cheerfully. “She will be joining us, won’t she?”

Arthur clenched his teeth. This again? “She is not my sister,” he said evenly, trying to hide the disdain in his voice. “And yes, she will be here any moment, I am assured. My manservant informed me that she is running slightly late.”

He saw clear relief spread across his father’s face. Perhaps Uther had been afraid Morgana would run away. Certainly Arthur had imagined scooping her up on his horse and riding away together, to some distant land where they could be together forever, unhindered by duty or politics. Impossible, he knew, but a lovely fantasy.

“Ah, yes. Women are like that,” Tavis nodded. “They are fragile beings. Excitement wears them out.”

If he thinks Morgana is fragile, he will be in for a surprise, Arthur grinned to himself.

As a servant began pouring wine, Tavis launched into what Arthur felt was a most inappropriate line of questions. “Tell me, does the Lady Morgana come from a fertile line?” he asked Uther. “My master’s expectations are that she will breed easily.”

Arthur brought his own cup to his lips, drinking deeply. He was going to need a lot of this in order to get through the meal. All of this talk about the woman he loved, the woman he had always thought to marry himself, made him sick to his stomach. For Morgana’s sake, he was glad she hadn’t yet arrived.

Uther cleared his throat, ill at ease. “Well, she is young and healthy. I suspect that she could conceive with no difficulties.”

Tavis nodded, taking a loud slurp of wine. “I notice her hips are sufficiently wide. That is good.”

Maybe it was the wine filling his empty stomach, but Arthur had simply had enough, and his usual ability to hold his tongue faltered. He slammed down his cup. “Is it truly appropriate to speak of the Lady Morgana the way a hog farmer talks about a breeding sow?” he snapped.

Tavis’s jaw dropped, and Uther appeared positively horrified. Arthur felt a twinge of glee in being so out of character, so downright petulant.

“Arthur!” Uther exclaimed, shooting his son a withering glare. “You will apologize this instant for being so rude to our guest.”

“Oh, no need to apologize.” Tavis held up his hand, and smiled condescendingly at Arthur. “You are young, Sire, and such business is new to you. Someday, you’ll be involved in making similar transactions.”

Arthur gritted his teeth. Another servant brought forth steaming loaves of bread, which the ambassador reached for greedily. He thought perhaps this would finally shut the man up, but apparently Tavis could multi-task.

“I have no doubt that she and His Majesty will make lovely children.” He ripped off a hunk of bread in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he rambled on. “Now, is she submissive and obedient?”

Arthur nearly choked on his wine. ‘Submissive’ and ‘obedient’ were two traits Morgana was certainly not. He had to concentrate to prevent breaking into raucous laughter.

He could sense his father shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “She is… she is prone to some stubbornness,” Uther admitted with a croak. He had not touched his bread or wine, and the cooks were already bringing out the slab of roasted venison.

“Yes, well, women often are before they marry,” Tavis declared. “It’s good for them to have a husband, to teach them how to keep their behavior in check. And I assure you that King Tormod has many years of experience in governing women.”

Arthur truly thought he was going to have to throw something, when the door opened and Morgana entered at last. Her familiar essence - sweet and spicy all at the same time - gave Arthur comfort, as it always did when she was around. It made him ache so badly to know she would soon be gone. Morgana had been such an integral part of his life for so long, it was as if someone would be chopping off his legs.

She really did look exceptionally beautiful today, though he noticed that she had changed gowns. In fact, she was now sporting the blue dress she had been wearing the night he first told her that he loved her. God, did anything about her not hold a precious memory?

“Ah, the Lady arrives,” Tavis said through a mouthful of food.

Arthur locked eyes with Morgana as she sat down, giving her a look of both sympathy and warning. So many emotions played out over each of their faces. Seeing her look so defeated and scared broke his heart all over again. I’m sorry, he thought, gazing at her. He felt like a failure, for not being able to save her from this fate. In his mind, he had gone over countless scenarios and plans, even discussing them with Merlin, but the sad reality was that duty took precedence over everything.

Uther raised his cup jubilantly. “I propose a toast. To a most advantageous marriage.”

Tavis also raised his cup, and Arthur and Morgana reluctantly followed suit. “Cheers!” the ambassador crowed.

“Cheers,” Arthur echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Perhaps he finally understood what Morgana had gone through, suffering years of nightmares. Only, this was a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up.

---
Chapters 5 and 6 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/138265.html

A/N: Not particularly uplifting, I know, but a sad truth for women in earlier times. The ‘sister’ bit is an inside joke for Arthur/Morgana shippers, because of that terrible argument that they are “only like siblings”. :P



fic

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