The Long Road Home, Chapters 2&3
Thanks for your support with chapter 1! Sorry for the delay in updating - I was ill. To make up for it, I’m posting both chapters 2 and 3. I know some of this is sad now, but the story is just beginning, I promise it will be worth the wait!
Chapter 2
The slam of the door seemed to reverberate for several minutes when Morgana left the room. Arthur normally considered himself a sharp man and a quick thinker, but now he couldn’t form one single, coherent thought. Morgana, to be married off? To be gone from his life, forever? No, his mind simply refused to accept that. He remembered seeing King Tormod once before. That had been nearly ten years ago, and even then the man looked positively ancient. The idea of him marrying Morgana made him ill, and the thought of him bedding her made him want to die.
A servant entered with dessert - a bowl of rich pudding that made Arthur nauseous just to look at. He shoved the dish away.
Uther cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect her to be thrilled, exactly, but I didn’t think she would react quite so negatively. Marrying Tormod will be a high honor. Morgana will make a most excellent queen.”
Arthur glared at his father. “You thought she would be happy about you deciding her future and giving her no say in the matter? You know how strong her spirit is. No man will ever own Morgana.”
Uther shrugged as he dipped into his dessert. “She needs to accept this. Maybe you can talk some sense into her later. You two have always had a bond, an understanding.”
You have no idea, Arthur thought angrily. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. “We’re in love,” he replied simply.
Uther dropped his spoon with a clatter. “Pardon me?”
“Morgana and I. We’re in love. We planned to tell you about it this evening.”
Uther stared at him so hard, Arthur felt as though he might dissolve. “You. And Morgana?”
Arthur nodded. “For a few months now. I mean, I’ve always loved her, I just didn’t realize it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Uther demanded, rubbing his forehead in disbelief.
“Would it have made any difference?” Arthur challenged. His father’s lack of a response answered his question. Of course not. He tried a different tactic, and looked across the table pleadingly. “Father, let me marry Morgana instead. Can’t you tell Tormod that you’ve changed your mind?”
Uther sighed. “Arthur, it’s too late. I’ve kept her here with us much longer than I had originally anticipated. It’s time for her to find a suitable husband, which is why I have promised her hand to King Tormod. Both Camelot and Gleanntan will benefit strongly from this union. The deal is as good as done. She’ll be well taken care of.”
Arthur hung his head sadly. He knew that when such a bargain was formally struck, backing out could have grave consequences for the kingdom. The more allies Camelot had, the better. But now his own heart would have to bear the sacrifice.
“We will find someone for you, son,” his father went on. “We’ll find you an appropriate queen. You know, there was a woman I thought I loved, before your mother came into my life. Igraine taught me what love truly was.”
Arthur snapped at this - his father dismissing his feelings - and fury erupted within him. “I do know what love is, because that is what I feel for Morgana!” The one solid thing in his life that he knew without doubt was that.
Uther coughed awkwardly. “Arthur. You and Morgana, you haven’t..., er, you haven’t done anything, have you?”
“No, Father!” Oh dear God, this was not the type of conversation he wanted to be having with his father! It was bad enough that Uther had summoned Gaius to give Arthur a talk when he turned thirteen, about the urges of young men and the dangers of licentious ladies of the court. Hearing Gaius use words like “fornication” and “conception” had left Arthur scarred for years.
“That’s good. I cannot have her maidenhood called into question.”
Well, this conversation is over, he thought. Arthur stood up from his chair and tossed his napkin on the table. Emotions overwhelmed him, and he needed to get away from his father and find someplace to just think.
“It will be all right, Arthur,” his father called after him.
For the second time that evening, the only response Uther received was the slam of a door.
* ~ * ~ *
Morgana burst into her chambers, tears streaming down her face. She was relieved that the castle had been mostly empty when she made her dash from the dining room. Her mind couldn’t fully process what she had just heard. It was so unfair, how could Uther do this to her? She just needed to get to her room and be alone.
Gwen had just finished changing the bed linens, and she jumped at the sudden intrusion of her near-hysterical mistress. “Morgana!” she called. “What on earth happened?”
Morgana collapsed on her bed, and her intuitive little dog, Delia, leapt onto her lap. She took a deep breath, the very idea still so foreign that it was hard to speak it aloud. “Uther is sending me to Gleanntan, to marry King Tormod.”
Gwen slowly placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no! When?”
“In two weeks,” she moaned. “Arthur and I were going to tell him about us tonight. But we waited too long, and now I am too marry an old goat instead.” She shivered with revulsion. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I fear there is nothing you can do about it,” sighed Gwen, sitting down and resting her chin on Morgana’s shoulder. “Once a betrothal is made, it’s a pact that cannot be broken. We’re women… our future is not our own. I mean, especially for you, because you are of noble blood. If Uther has already promised you as Tormod’s bride… I’m afraid it’s as good as done.”
“I could run away,” she huffed defiantly through hiccups. Absentmindedly, she stroked Delia, the dog’s soft warmth providing just a little solace. She was reeling; one second feeling as though she would melt into the floor from grief, the next as though she would burst from anger. “Yes, that’s it! I could run away. I’d rather live in the woods with a band of Druids than resign myself to this.”
“You can’t do that,” Gwen said softly, patting her hand. “You know Uther would turn the earth inside out looking for you. Besides, running away wouldn’t bring you any closer to Arthur. Isn’t that what you truly want, more than anything?”
Morgana nodded, still sniffling. It was true, running away simply wasn’t realistic - there was no hiding. Any control she had over her own future had been taken away. “It’s as if every single dream I’ve ever had was just crushed in a single moment.”
“There is always hope,” Gwen suggested. “Arthur is still young, perhaps Uther won’t be looking for a bride for him just yet. Maybe in a few years, when you are widowed, you will come back to Camelot. You’ll just have to endure your new life, for a little while.”
“Somehow,” Morgana sighed. Her head began to throb from the emotional overload of the evening. She had gone from fantasizing about her wedding to Arthur, to dreading a union with an unknown king.
“I’ve finished making your bed, and I was just heading home,” Gwen said. “Is there anything I can get you first?”
Morgana shook her head. “No, I’d just like to be alone. Go ahead, I’ll probably turn in soon anyway.”
Gwen nodded, gently patting her friend’s back as she rose.
“And Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to go with me. I won’t ask you to, or force you to. Of course I want you to come, but I can’t ask you to give up your whole life here to accompany me to Gleanntan.” She lifted her chin, trying to appear stronger than she felt.
“Don’t be silly. I’m happy to be your friend no matter where it takes me. Now, get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
The lump returned to Morgana’s throat, and she merely nodded, unable to respond. As her maid left, she curled up on the bed with Delia and tried to calm her nerves. Unable to sleep, she merely drifted in a daze-like state, wishing she could go back in time.
* ~ * ~ *
The stables were dark and quiet, save for the horses’ occasional snort or shuffling of hooves. Arthur sat in the corner, his chin on his knees. He liked to come here when he needed to think, without the risk of being bothered. The smell of hay and earth and horses was soothing, and if Merlin had done his job right, there were no unpleasant odors to contend with.
So what now? He sighed and kicked at the dirt with his boot. His stomach and heart and mind were twisted into knots. Perhaps this was his punishment, for living these past months with Morgana in a fantasy-like state. Being of royal lineage, love simply didn’t matter when it came to marriage. If they had been born commoners, few obstacles would confront their love. Still, there had to be a way out, a solution. Arthur was not one to lay back and let himself be defeated. When he imagined Tormod touching Morgana - his Morgana! - he flushed with rage. Then he remembered the risk of incurring Gleannan’s wrath, and helpless sadness washed over him.
Feeling the urgent need to be with her, he left and stables and made his way to her chambers. Once there, he knocked softly on her door. He didn’t have to knock, and often didn’t, but after what had happened earlier that night, he figured it best to proceed carefully.
“Who is it?”
“Me,” he replied, opening the door just a crack.
“I don’t want to see you right now.”
The pitch and hoarseness of her voice told him she had been crying. Ignoring what she said, he entered the room anyway. She was seated on a chair by the window, looking out into the night. He walked slowly toward her, then stopped, not sure of what to do or what to say exactly. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, just as he would have done without hesitation a few hours prior. But now… things were different. She belonged, technically, to another man.
He was still debating what to do, when she began to speak. “All my life I have only imagined you as my husband. Now I can’t fathom the idea of it being anyone else. Especially not some old man in a distant kingdom.” Still looking out the window, her nose curled in revulsion.
“We should have known better,” Arthur murmured, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “We shouldn’t have expected it would be so easy.” He was getting angry - why did things always have to be so complicated? Why did this one, perfect thing have to be torn away from him?
“Did you know about this, Arthur?” She looked up suddenly, her eyes flashing accusingly. “You did know! That must be why you just sat there and didn’t say anything. I suppose you were just stringing me along in hopes of getting into my bed. Why didn’t you warn me?”
He held up his hands, half afraid she would launch her self across the room to slap him. “I knew nothing of this, I swear to you, Morgana. Tonight was the first I heard anything about it. I didn’t even know Father had any dealings with King Tormod.” He cleared his throat, feeling rather small for not standing up to his father instantly, when Morgana needed him to. “But after you left tonight, I... I told Father about us.”
“You did what?”
“I told him. About you and I. I told him that we had intended to marry.”
She scoffed bitterly. “I suppose it didn’t change his mind.”
“No.” They were silent for a time. It felt so odd to Arthur, to be in her chambers where they had shared so many sweet times, and now their hearts were breaking.
Morgana tapped her fingers on the windowsill. “I need a plan. We must think, Arthur, and try to find a way out of this.”
He shook his head. “There is no way out. You heard father - the deal is sealed. To undo it could cause harm to Camelot.”
Even though the room was dark, he could feel the anger from her eyes, sharp as a dagger. “You don’t care what happens to me at all. You know something, Arthur? I hate you!” she seethed.
Arthur gave a half-hearted laugh. Her words were meant to sting, but the lack of feeling behind them made the miss their mark completely. “You love me,” he stated sadly. “Just as I love you. But there is no way out of this.”
He got up and went to her, pulling her into his arms. At first she tried to resist, but when he didn’t release her, she ultimately leaned against him and sighed softly. He leaned down and tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away.
“We mustn’t,” she whimpered, leaning into his shoulder instead. “Not anymore. We have to stop, for our own sakes.”
He cupped her chin, gently lifting her face so she had to look at him. “Listen to me, Morgana. This isn’t forever, this marriage, as Tormod is an old man. You will be free again someday… we have to hang on to that hope.”
“It could still be years away, and I can’t ask you to wait for me.”
You’re worth the wait,” he smiled into her hair. “It can’t be too long - we have to believe that. Promise me you won’t give up? That’s not like you.”
“I promise,” she murmured. “I have to, because that belief is our only hope.”
Chapter 3
Two days later, Morgana met with Uther again. A messenger had come to her room with a summons, insisting that they meet for a discussion. A calming sadness had replaced her rage. It wasn’t that she had given up, but she had instead focused her thoughts on getting through this, in the hope that something better was waiting on the other side.
It was the first time she had seen Uther since the announcement of her betrothal. When she entered the room and saw him seated at his throne, it occurred to her that he looked very stressed and tired. A touch of guilt stung her mind, knowing that he did truly love her, and wanted the best for her… even if his ideas were misguided.
He waved her over to her seat when she entered. “Morgana. Thank you for coming.” His voice was kind, gentle, no longer angry.
“My Lord,” she replied softly.
Uther studied her. She knew she wasn’t looking her best - with her face pale, eyes surrounded by dark circles from the lack of sleep. “I know you aren’t happy. But please believe me when I tell you that I would never consent to giving you in marriage to a man I thought was unkind or unworthy. As I said the other night, King Tormod is a ruler loved by his people, with a good reputation. In the forty years he has been ruling Gleanntan, the kingdom has flourished.”
She nodded, not sure of what to say. “I understand, my Lord. I believe that you think you are doing what is best for me. But the very idea of leaving Camelot, it breaks my heart. Is there no way out of the deal you made?” She felt her level of anger rising slightly. “The deal you made without my consent?”
Uther was firm, but not impatient, as he explained himself again. “The betrothal is secured, the arrangements for your dowry have been made. To back out now would bring the risk of war against Camelot. You don’t want that, do you?”
Morgana groaned inwardly. Of course she didn’t wish ill against her kingdom’s people. “No,” she murmured quietly. How dreadful it was that her marriage was purely a business deal.
“Good. Now, Tormod’s ambassador is due to arrive tomorrow. I wanted to go over some things with you first. We will receive Sir Tavis in the Great Hall just prior to noon, where he will be introduced to you formally. Then we’ll dine with him shortly afterwards. I expect he’ll want to talk to you at some length, to learn more about you and report back to his king.” He paused, tapping his fingers on the armrest thoughtfully. “I beg you to be respectful to him, no matter how you feel about this marriage.”
Morgana raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “So this is a spy mission? Tormod wants to have his stable-boy inspect the brood mare before he places a bid?”
Uther’s rolled his eyes. “He merely wants to know more about the future queen, so that they may make preparations for your arrival. Not to worry, I’m sure he will have nothing but wonderful things to say. You are beautiful and charming and intelligent, Morgana. No man could resist you.”
Not even your son, she felt like saying, but restrained herself. Instead, she brought up another point of business. “He’s old, Uther. What will happen to me when King Tormod dies?”
He winced. “Morgana, you should not speak of the death of your soon-to-be husband. His physician says he is healthy for a man who is nearly sixty years old, and that he will even be able to father more children.”
She cringed inwardly at the very idea of procreating with Tormod. “I’m being realistic,” she said with a shrug. It may seem harsh to wish the death of a man she didn’t know, a man who would soon know her most intimately, but the fact remained that he probably wouldn’t live for many years. She needed reassurance that she wouldn’t be discarded and forgotten in some remote kingdom.
“If you provide him with a male heir, then I am assured that you will have a most revered place as Dowager Queen. Tormod’s nephew will serve as Protector until your son takes the throne. If you’ve had no male issue, then his nephew will be crowned as the king and you will return here.”
Hope spattered like raindrops in her soul. So it was possible - she could return here, to Camelot! To Arthur! Still cautious, she asked, “If I were to return here, Uther, then what?”
“Then, having done your duty, you would be free to marry a man of your choosing. Provided, of course, he is acceptable.” He smiled teasingly. “I can’t have my ward tying the knot with, say, a servant.”
“They say love doesn’t know social boundaries,” she retorted.
“No, love doesn’t,” he agreed. “But marriage does.”
Which is why I am in this position to begin with, thought Morgana with a sigh. If she hadn’t been a high-born lady, she wouldn’t be forced into marrying Tormod against her will. But, she realized, she also would have never gotten to know Arthur.
“There is something else,” Uther said. “Arthur told me... about the two of you.”
She said nothing, and he went on. “I ask that you do not engage in any... risky behavior with him, particularly when Gleanntan’s ambassador is here. Much is riding on this marriage agreement.”
Numb and slightly embarrassed, Morgana only shook her head.
Uther reached out and covered her hand with his. “It will be all right, I promise you.” The gesture of affection made her heart twinge. She would miss him, she realized, the man who made her so angry but was still the closest thing she had to a father.
“What if I never see you again?” she asked, feeling the tears forming yet again. She had shed so many tears in the past few days.
“Never worry about that,” he assured her. “You shall return with King Tormod and a company of guests for Yuletide. And since this marriage will ally our kingdoms, you can be sure we’ll have many celebrations and meetings.”
This was a slight comfort, although Morgana couldn’t allow herself to think that far into the future. She was taking things strictly day by day, putting one foot in front of the other.
“Now,” Uther continued. “Go rest, and take care of yourself. You’ll want to look your best for receiving the ambassador tomorrow. Remember, his visit is for your benefit. I will personally see to it that everything will be done in order to make your transition comfortable.”
“A week of sleep won’t properly prepare me for this,” she said quietly, rising and making her escape before Uther could say more.
Outside in the hallway, she paused in front of the picture window, taking in the beauty that was Camelot in the Spring. She would miss this - the blooming trees and lush green valleys. Morgana knew nothing about Gleanntan - was it mountainous, divided by a river, or did the fields stretch out into the horizon? Did Tormod maintain fruitful orchards or elaborate gardens? She frowned as she pressed her palm to the cool window pane. She would be finding this out very soon.
~ * ~ * ~
“So you’re just giving up, and letting her go, then?”
Arthur, in his chambers after dinner and trying to relax, rolled his eyes. The way Merlin talked to him really was unacceptable. Someday, and someday soon, he was going to have to sit down with him and make it clear who was in charge. Just... not today. “She isn’t mine to do with as I please. Her care is my father’s responsibility. She is his concern.”
“Oh, I think you’re plenty concerned. You’re grumbling in your sleep, you’re not eating our usual lion’s share of food, you’re grouchier than usual. But I’m surprised that you haven’t done more to change your father’s mind. Poor Morgana, having to go to bed with that old king.”
“Stop!” Arthur ordered. God, there was nothing worse than that image. “Besides, it’s too late. My father said so himself. I did talk to him, but the deal with Tormod has already been made.”
“I’ve heard talk around court that Tormod has rotten teeth and walks hunched over. But he is known for being kind to his people… he even has a tolerable attitude towards magic.”
“If you are so interested in what happens in Gleanntan, perhaps I’ll leave you there with Morgana. Now stop gossiping about such affairs and help me find my shirt,” he grumbled. He planned to wear his blue shirt and matching gold-trimmed jacket, but the shirt was nowhere to be found. Kneeling on the cold stone floor, Arthur glanced under his bed, but it was far too dark to see a thing. Groping blindly, he found an orange peel and an old pair of boots. “Really, Merlin, if you gave as much care to your duties as you do to what is none of your business, my chambers would be in much better condition.” Making a disgusted face, he pulled an ancient crust of bread, dotted with blue-green mold, out from under the bed.
“I’m not gossiping,” Merlin called from the closet on the other side of the room. “It’s just that I know how miserable you will be without her. And if you’re miserable, no doubt I will be, too. So it is my business.” Merlin added softly, “I don’t wish a broken heart on anyone.”
“It’s not going to break my heart. It’s… nothing. We grew up together, we’re like… friends.” Even as Arthur spoke the lies, he knew how ridiculous the argument sounded. Grunting in frustration, he sat up and leaned against his bed. “Dammit, who am I kidding? I will be miserable without her.” He sighed, feeling sheepish and vulnerable. “I guess you’re brighter than you look.”
Merlin’s smirk said everything. “I doubt I’m the only one who notices. What if Tormod’s ambassador picks up on your feelings for each other? Morgana’s chastity could be called into question.” He crossed the room, blue shirt in hand, and tossed it upon Arthur’s bed.
“Not that it’s appropriate for you to even be thinking of such things, Merlin, but nothing happened between us. Ever.” Pausing, he huffed, “Yet.”
Trying to search under his bed again, his fingers came upon a small wooden box. What was this? A vaguely familiar pattern was carved into the lid. Almost immediately, he remembered what was kept hidden in the box. Arthur had completely forgotten about it, and hadn’t even opened it in years.
“What about that morning I found you two…?”
Apparently Merlin wasn’t going to let this go easily. There had been that one night Morgana had come to his room, terrified after a nightmare, and he had pulled her into bed with him. Nothing had happened, of course, but they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, only to be woken up when Merlin came lumbering in at dawn. “She had a nightmare and fell asleep in my bed. That’s all there is to the story.”
Waiting until Merlin became occupied with clearing dishes from the table, Arthur slipped his fingers into the box, scooped out a tarnished old ring, and pocketed it.
“What was that?” Instantly, his servant turned and eyed him suspiciously.
“What was what?”
“What did you just put in your pocket?” Merlin looked curiously to Arthur’s hand.
A low growl rumbled from the back of Arthur’s throat. Did the man have eyes in the back of his head? The stress was draining what little patience he had. “I’m the one who should be asking questions, Merlin. Like why exactly are you standing there gaping, when you should be polishing the buttons on my jacket?”
“Because you are a most messy eater, and I am still sweeping up your dinner crumbs.” Merlin casually went back to picking up dishes and brushing away debris.
Ignoring the insult, Arthur stood and brushed off his trousers. “Forget the table. The ambassador from Gleanntan is arriving tomorrow. I’ve arranged to put him in the spare chamber just off the gallery. You need to make sure his room is ready. Go now - you’re excused.”
Merlin smiled and nodded, giving Arthur that look - the look that told him that Merlin knew exactly what was going on in his mind. “Sire,” he nodded, dipping into a most mocking bow before dashing off.
Settling on his bed, Arthur reclined against his pillows and kicked off his boots. His bed, the place he had yearned to bring Morgana for so long. He had pretty much expected this would be where the two of them would share a wedding night someday. Maybe there was still hope, but Arthur knew that time and distance changed people, and how could he even be sure Morgana would still want him after her husband died? Perhaps she would fall in love with the old king - she was such an emotional creature at times, it could happen. Maybe she would love Gleanntan so much that she would never return to Camelot.
It was a fear that Arthur had to block from his mind, for the sake of his sanity.
Chapter 4 here
Or start from the beginning.
Chapter 2
The slam of the door seemed to reverberate for several minutes when Morgana left the room. Arthur normally considered himself a sharp man and a quick thinker, but now he couldn’t form one single, coherent thought. Morgana, to be married off? To be gone from his life, forever? No, his mind simply refused to accept that. He remembered seeing King Tormod once before. That had been nearly ten years ago, and even then the man looked positively ancient. The idea of him marrying Morgana made him ill, and the thought of him bedding her made him want to die.
A servant entered with dessert - a bowl of rich pudding that made Arthur nauseous just to look at. He shoved the dish away.
Uther cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect her to be thrilled, exactly, but I didn’t think she would react quite so negatively. Marrying Tormod will be a high honor. Morgana will make a most excellent queen.”
Arthur glared at his father. “You thought she would be happy about you deciding her future and giving her no say in the matter? You know how strong her spirit is. No man will ever own Morgana.”
Uther shrugged as he dipped into his dessert. “She needs to accept this. Maybe you can talk some sense into her later. You two have always had a bond, an understanding.”
You have no idea, Arthur thought angrily. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. “We’re in love,” he replied simply.
Uther dropped his spoon with a clatter. “Pardon me?”
“Morgana and I. We’re in love. We planned to tell you about it this evening.”
Uther stared at him so hard, Arthur felt as though he might dissolve. “You. And Morgana?”
Arthur nodded. “For a few months now. I mean, I’ve always loved her, I just didn’t realize it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Uther demanded, rubbing his forehead in disbelief.
“Would it have made any difference?” Arthur challenged. His father’s lack of a response answered his question. Of course not. He tried a different tactic, and looked across the table pleadingly. “Father, let me marry Morgana instead. Can’t you tell Tormod that you’ve changed your mind?”
Uther sighed. “Arthur, it’s too late. I’ve kept her here with us much longer than I had originally anticipated. It’s time for her to find a suitable husband, which is why I have promised her hand to King Tormod. Both Camelot and Gleanntan will benefit strongly from this union. The deal is as good as done. She’ll be well taken care of.”
Arthur hung his head sadly. He knew that when such a bargain was formally struck, backing out could have grave consequences for the kingdom. The more allies Camelot had, the better. But now his own heart would have to bear the sacrifice.
“We will find someone for you, son,” his father went on. “We’ll find you an appropriate queen. You know, there was a woman I thought I loved, before your mother came into my life. Igraine taught me what love truly was.”
Arthur snapped at this - his father dismissing his feelings - and fury erupted within him. “I do know what love is, because that is what I feel for Morgana!” The one solid thing in his life that he knew without doubt was that.
Uther coughed awkwardly. “Arthur. You and Morgana, you haven’t..., er, you haven’t done anything, have you?”
“No, Father!” Oh dear God, this was not the type of conversation he wanted to be having with his father! It was bad enough that Uther had summoned Gaius to give Arthur a talk when he turned thirteen, about the urges of young men and the dangers of licentious ladies of the court. Hearing Gaius use words like “fornication” and “conception” had left Arthur scarred for years.
“That’s good. I cannot have her maidenhood called into question.”
Well, this conversation is over, he thought. Arthur stood up from his chair and tossed his napkin on the table. Emotions overwhelmed him, and he needed to get away from his father and find someplace to just think.
“It will be all right, Arthur,” his father called after him.
For the second time that evening, the only response Uther received was the slam of a door.
* ~ * ~ *
Morgana burst into her chambers, tears streaming down her face. She was relieved that the castle had been mostly empty when she made her dash from the dining room. Her mind couldn’t fully process what she had just heard. It was so unfair, how could Uther do this to her? She just needed to get to her room and be alone.
Gwen had just finished changing the bed linens, and she jumped at the sudden intrusion of her near-hysterical mistress. “Morgana!” she called. “What on earth happened?”
Morgana collapsed on her bed, and her intuitive little dog, Delia, leapt onto her lap. She took a deep breath, the very idea still so foreign that it was hard to speak it aloud. “Uther is sending me to Gleanntan, to marry King Tormod.”
Gwen slowly placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no! When?”
“In two weeks,” she moaned. “Arthur and I were going to tell him about us tonight. But we waited too long, and now I am too marry an old goat instead.” She shivered with revulsion. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I fear there is nothing you can do about it,” sighed Gwen, sitting down and resting her chin on Morgana’s shoulder. “Once a betrothal is made, it’s a pact that cannot be broken. We’re women… our future is not our own. I mean, especially for you, because you are of noble blood. If Uther has already promised you as Tormod’s bride… I’m afraid it’s as good as done.”
“I could run away,” she huffed defiantly through hiccups. Absentmindedly, she stroked Delia, the dog’s soft warmth providing just a little solace. She was reeling; one second feeling as though she would melt into the floor from grief, the next as though she would burst from anger. “Yes, that’s it! I could run away. I’d rather live in the woods with a band of Druids than resign myself to this.”
“You can’t do that,” Gwen said softly, patting her hand. “You know Uther would turn the earth inside out looking for you. Besides, running away wouldn’t bring you any closer to Arthur. Isn’t that what you truly want, more than anything?”
Morgana nodded, still sniffling. It was true, running away simply wasn’t realistic - there was no hiding. Any control she had over her own future had been taken away. “It’s as if every single dream I’ve ever had was just crushed in a single moment.”
“There is always hope,” Gwen suggested. “Arthur is still young, perhaps Uther won’t be looking for a bride for him just yet. Maybe in a few years, when you are widowed, you will come back to Camelot. You’ll just have to endure your new life, for a little while.”
“Somehow,” Morgana sighed. Her head began to throb from the emotional overload of the evening. She had gone from fantasizing about her wedding to Arthur, to dreading a union with an unknown king.
“I’ve finished making your bed, and I was just heading home,” Gwen said. “Is there anything I can get you first?”
Morgana shook her head. “No, I’d just like to be alone. Go ahead, I’ll probably turn in soon anyway.”
Gwen nodded, gently patting her friend’s back as she rose.
“And Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to go with me. I won’t ask you to, or force you to. Of course I want you to come, but I can’t ask you to give up your whole life here to accompany me to Gleanntan.” She lifted her chin, trying to appear stronger than she felt.
“Don’t be silly. I’m happy to be your friend no matter where it takes me. Now, get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
The lump returned to Morgana’s throat, and she merely nodded, unable to respond. As her maid left, she curled up on the bed with Delia and tried to calm her nerves. Unable to sleep, she merely drifted in a daze-like state, wishing she could go back in time.
* ~ * ~ *
The stables were dark and quiet, save for the horses’ occasional snort or shuffling of hooves. Arthur sat in the corner, his chin on his knees. He liked to come here when he needed to think, without the risk of being bothered. The smell of hay and earth and horses was soothing, and if Merlin had done his job right, there were no unpleasant odors to contend with.
So what now? He sighed and kicked at the dirt with his boot. His stomach and heart and mind were twisted into knots. Perhaps this was his punishment, for living these past months with Morgana in a fantasy-like state. Being of royal lineage, love simply didn’t matter when it came to marriage. If they had been born commoners, few obstacles would confront their love. Still, there had to be a way out, a solution. Arthur was not one to lay back and let himself be defeated. When he imagined Tormod touching Morgana - his Morgana! - he flushed with rage. Then he remembered the risk of incurring Gleannan’s wrath, and helpless sadness washed over him.
Feeling the urgent need to be with her, he left and stables and made his way to her chambers. Once there, he knocked softly on her door. He didn’t have to knock, and often didn’t, but after what had happened earlier that night, he figured it best to proceed carefully.
“Who is it?”
“Me,” he replied, opening the door just a crack.
“I don’t want to see you right now.”
The pitch and hoarseness of her voice told him she had been crying. Ignoring what she said, he entered the room anyway. She was seated on a chair by the window, looking out into the night. He walked slowly toward her, then stopped, not sure of what to do or what to say exactly. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, just as he would have done without hesitation a few hours prior. But now… things were different. She belonged, technically, to another man.
He was still debating what to do, when she began to speak. “All my life I have only imagined you as my husband. Now I can’t fathom the idea of it being anyone else. Especially not some old man in a distant kingdom.” Still looking out the window, her nose curled in revulsion.
“We should have known better,” Arthur murmured, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “We shouldn’t have expected it would be so easy.” He was getting angry - why did things always have to be so complicated? Why did this one, perfect thing have to be torn away from him?
“Did you know about this, Arthur?” She looked up suddenly, her eyes flashing accusingly. “You did know! That must be why you just sat there and didn’t say anything. I suppose you were just stringing me along in hopes of getting into my bed. Why didn’t you warn me?”
He held up his hands, half afraid she would launch her self across the room to slap him. “I knew nothing of this, I swear to you, Morgana. Tonight was the first I heard anything about it. I didn’t even know Father had any dealings with King Tormod.” He cleared his throat, feeling rather small for not standing up to his father instantly, when Morgana needed him to. “But after you left tonight, I... I told Father about us.”
“You did what?”
“I told him. About you and I. I told him that we had intended to marry.”
She scoffed bitterly. “I suppose it didn’t change his mind.”
“No.” They were silent for a time. It felt so odd to Arthur, to be in her chambers where they had shared so many sweet times, and now their hearts were breaking.
Morgana tapped her fingers on the windowsill. “I need a plan. We must think, Arthur, and try to find a way out of this.”
He shook his head. “There is no way out. You heard father - the deal is sealed. To undo it could cause harm to Camelot.”
Even though the room was dark, he could feel the anger from her eyes, sharp as a dagger. “You don’t care what happens to me at all. You know something, Arthur? I hate you!” she seethed.
Arthur gave a half-hearted laugh. Her words were meant to sting, but the lack of feeling behind them made the miss their mark completely. “You love me,” he stated sadly. “Just as I love you. But there is no way out of this.”
He got up and went to her, pulling her into his arms. At first she tried to resist, but when he didn’t release her, she ultimately leaned against him and sighed softly. He leaned down and tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away.
“We mustn’t,” she whimpered, leaning into his shoulder instead. “Not anymore. We have to stop, for our own sakes.”
He cupped her chin, gently lifting her face so she had to look at him. “Listen to me, Morgana. This isn’t forever, this marriage, as Tormod is an old man. You will be free again someday… we have to hang on to that hope.”
“It could still be years away, and I can’t ask you to wait for me.”
You’re worth the wait,” he smiled into her hair. “It can’t be too long - we have to believe that. Promise me you won’t give up? That’s not like you.”
“I promise,” she murmured. “I have to, because that belief is our only hope.”
Chapter 3
Two days later, Morgana met with Uther again. A messenger had come to her room with a summons, insisting that they meet for a discussion. A calming sadness had replaced her rage. It wasn’t that she had given up, but she had instead focused her thoughts on getting through this, in the hope that something better was waiting on the other side.
It was the first time she had seen Uther since the announcement of her betrothal. When she entered the room and saw him seated at his throne, it occurred to her that he looked very stressed and tired. A touch of guilt stung her mind, knowing that he did truly love her, and wanted the best for her… even if his ideas were misguided.
He waved her over to her seat when she entered. “Morgana. Thank you for coming.” His voice was kind, gentle, no longer angry.
“My Lord,” she replied softly.
Uther studied her. She knew she wasn’t looking her best - with her face pale, eyes surrounded by dark circles from the lack of sleep. “I know you aren’t happy. But please believe me when I tell you that I would never consent to giving you in marriage to a man I thought was unkind or unworthy. As I said the other night, King Tormod is a ruler loved by his people, with a good reputation. In the forty years he has been ruling Gleanntan, the kingdom has flourished.”
She nodded, not sure of what to say. “I understand, my Lord. I believe that you think you are doing what is best for me. But the very idea of leaving Camelot, it breaks my heart. Is there no way out of the deal you made?” She felt her level of anger rising slightly. “The deal you made without my consent?”
Uther was firm, but not impatient, as he explained himself again. “The betrothal is secured, the arrangements for your dowry have been made. To back out now would bring the risk of war against Camelot. You don’t want that, do you?”
Morgana groaned inwardly. Of course she didn’t wish ill against her kingdom’s people. “No,” she murmured quietly. How dreadful it was that her marriage was purely a business deal.
“Good. Now, Tormod’s ambassador is due to arrive tomorrow. I wanted to go over some things with you first. We will receive Sir Tavis in the Great Hall just prior to noon, where he will be introduced to you formally. Then we’ll dine with him shortly afterwards. I expect he’ll want to talk to you at some length, to learn more about you and report back to his king.” He paused, tapping his fingers on the armrest thoughtfully. “I beg you to be respectful to him, no matter how you feel about this marriage.”
Morgana raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “So this is a spy mission? Tormod wants to have his stable-boy inspect the brood mare before he places a bid?”
Uther’s rolled his eyes. “He merely wants to know more about the future queen, so that they may make preparations for your arrival. Not to worry, I’m sure he will have nothing but wonderful things to say. You are beautiful and charming and intelligent, Morgana. No man could resist you.”
Not even your son, she felt like saying, but restrained herself. Instead, she brought up another point of business. “He’s old, Uther. What will happen to me when King Tormod dies?”
He winced. “Morgana, you should not speak of the death of your soon-to-be husband. His physician says he is healthy for a man who is nearly sixty years old, and that he will even be able to father more children.”
She cringed inwardly at the very idea of procreating with Tormod. “I’m being realistic,” she said with a shrug. It may seem harsh to wish the death of a man she didn’t know, a man who would soon know her most intimately, but the fact remained that he probably wouldn’t live for many years. She needed reassurance that she wouldn’t be discarded and forgotten in some remote kingdom.
“If you provide him with a male heir, then I am assured that you will have a most revered place as Dowager Queen. Tormod’s nephew will serve as Protector until your son takes the throne. If you’ve had no male issue, then his nephew will be crowned as the king and you will return here.”
Hope spattered like raindrops in her soul. So it was possible - she could return here, to Camelot! To Arthur! Still cautious, she asked, “If I were to return here, Uther, then what?”
“Then, having done your duty, you would be free to marry a man of your choosing. Provided, of course, he is acceptable.” He smiled teasingly. “I can’t have my ward tying the knot with, say, a servant.”
“They say love doesn’t know social boundaries,” she retorted.
“No, love doesn’t,” he agreed. “But marriage does.”
Which is why I am in this position to begin with, thought Morgana with a sigh. If she hadn’t been a high-born lady, she wouldn’t be forced into marrying Tormod against her will. But, she realized, she also would have never gotten to know Arthur.
“There is something else,” Uther said. “Arthur told me... about the two of you.”
She said nothing, and he went on. “I ask that you do not engage in any... risky behavior with him, particularly when Gleanntan’s ambassador is here. Much is riding on this marriage agreement.”
Numb and slightly embarrassed, Morgana only shook her head.
Uther reached out and covered her hand with his. “It will be all right, I promise you.” The gesture of affection made her heart twinge. She would miss him, she realized, the man who made her so angry but was still the closest thing she had to a father.
“What if I never see you again?” she asked, feeling the tears forming yet again. She had shed so many tears in the past few days.
“Never worry about that,” he assured her. “You shall return with King Tormod and a company of guests for Yuletide. And since this marriage will ally our kingdoms, you can be sure we’ll have many celebrations and meetings.”
This was a slight comfort, although Morgana couldn’t allow herself to think that far into the future. She was taking things strictly day by day, putting one foot in front of the other.
“Now,” Uther continued. “Go rest, and take care of yourself. You’ll want to look your best for receiving the ambassador tomorrow. Remember, his visit is for your benefit. I will personally see to it that everything will be done in order to make your transition comfortable.”
“A week of sleep won’t properly prepare me for this,” she said quietly, rising and making her escape before Uther could say more.
Outside in the hallway, she paused in front of the picture window, taking in the beauty that was Camelot in the Spring. She would miss this - the blooming trees and lush green valleys. Morgana knew nothing about Gleanntan - was it mountainous, divided by a river, or did the fields stretch out into the horizon? Did Tormod maintain fruitful orchards or elaborate gardens? She frowned as she pressed her palm to the cool window pane. She would be finding this out very soon.
~ * ~ * ~
“So you’re just giving up, and letting her go, then?”
Arthur, in his chambers after dinner and trying to relax, rolled his eyes. The way Merlin talked to him really was unacceptable. Someday, and someday soon, he was going to have to sit down with him and make it clear who was in charge. Just... not today. “She isn’t mine to do with as I please. Her care is my father’s responsibility. She is his concern.”
“Oh, I think you’re plenty concerned. You’re grumbling in your sleep, you’re not eating our usual lion’s share of food, you’re grouchier than usual. But I’m surprised that you haven’t done more to change your father’s mind. Poor Morgana, having to go to bed with that old king.”
“Stop!” Arthur ordered. God, there was nothing worse than that image. “Besides, it’s too late. My father said so himself. I did talk to him, but the deal with Tormod has already been made.”
“I’ve heard talk around court that Tormod has rotten teeth and walks hunched over. But he is known for being kind to his people… he even has a tolerable attitude towards magic.”
“If you are so interested in what happens in Gleanntan, perhaps I’ll leave you there with Morgana. Now stop gossiping about such affairs and help me find my shirt,” he grumbled. He planned to wear his blue shirt and matching gold-trimmed jacket, but the shirt was nowhere to be found. Kneeling on the cold stone floor, Arthur glanced under his bed, but it was far too dark to see a thing. Groping blindly, he found an orange peel and an old pair of boots. “Really, Merlin, if you gave as much care to your duties as you do to what is none of your business, my chambers would be in much better condition.” Making a disgusted face, he pulled an ancient crust of bread, dotted with blue-green mold, out from under the bed.
“I’m not gossiping,” Merlin called from the closet on the other side of the room. “It’s just that I know how miserable you will be without her. And if you’re miserable, no doubt I will be, too. So it is my business.” Merlin added softly, “I don’t wish a broken heart on anyone.”
“It’s not going to break my heart. It’s… nothing. We grew up together, we’re like… friends.” Even as Arthur spoke the lies, he knew how ridiculous the argument sounded. Grunting in frustration, he sat up and leaned against his bed. “Dammit, who am I kidding? I will be miserable without her.” He sighed, feeling sheepish and vulnerable. “I guess you’re brighter than you look.”
Merlin’s smirk said everything. “I doubt I’m the only one who notices. What if Tormod’s ambassador picks up on your feelings for each other? Morgana’s chastity could be called into question.” He crossed the room, blue shirt in hand, and tossed it upon Arthur’s bed.
“Not that it’s appropriate for you to even be thinking of such things, Merlin, but nothing happened between us. Ever.” Pausing, he huffed, “Yet.”
Trying to search under his bed again, his fingers came upon a small wooden box. What was this? A vaguely familiar pattern was carved into the lid. Almost immediately, he remembered what was kept hidden in the box. Arthur had completely forgotten about it, and hadn’t even opened it in years.
“What about that morning I found you two…?”
Apparently Merlin wasn’t going to let this go easily. There had been that one night Morgana had come to his room, terrified after a nightmare, and he had pulled her into bed with him. Nothing had happened, of course, but they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, only to be woken up when Merlin came lumbering in at dawn. “She had a nightmare and fell asleep in my bed. That’s all there is to the story.”
Waiting until Merlin became occupied with clearing dishes from the table, Arthur slipped his fingers into the box, scooped out a tarnished old ring, and pocketed it.
“What was that?” Instantly, his servant turned and eyed him suspiciously.
“What was what?”
“What did you just put in your pocket?” Merlin looked curiously to Arthur’s hand.
A low growl rumbled from the back of Arthur’s throat. Did the man have eyes in the back of his head? The stress was draining what little patience he had. “I’m the one who should be asking questions, Merlin. Like why exactly are you standing there gaping, when you should be polishing the buttons on my jacket?”
“Because you are a most messy eater, and I am still sweeping up your dinner crumbs.” Merlin casually went back to picking up dishes and brushing away debris.
Ignoring the insult, Arthur stood and brushed off his trousers. “Forget the table. The ambassador from Gleanntan is arriving tomorrow. I’ve arranged to put him in the spare chamber just off the gallery. You need to make sure his room is ready. Go now - you’re excused.”
Merlin smiled and nodded, giving Arthur that look - the look that told him that Merlin knew exactly what was going on in his mind. “Sire,” he nodded, dipping into a most mocking bow before dashing off.
Settling on his bed, Arthur reclined against his pillows and kicked off his boots. His bed, the place he had yearned to bring Morgana for so long. He had pretty much expected this would be where the two of them would share a wedding night someday. Maybe there was still hope, but Arthur knew that time and distance changed people, and how could he even be sure Morgana would still want him after her husband died? Perhaps she would fall in love with the old king - she was such an emotional creature at times, it could happen. Maybe she would love Gleanntan so much that she would never return to Camelot.
It was a fear that Arthur had to block from his mind, for the sake of his sanity.
Chapter 4 here
Or start from the beginning.