Merlin Fic: Out for a Pound
Title: Out for a Pound
Fandom: BBC's Merlin
Rating: NC-17. I never thought I'd see the day
Characters/pairings: Sir Leon/Morgana, blink and you'll miss it possible Morgana/Gwen
Warnings: *coughs*bondage*cough*
Spoilers: Through all of series two.
Word count: 4,081
Summary: After unexpectedly surviving the events of The Last Dragonlord, Sir Leon wakes up in the last place he would have imagined.
Disclaimer: I own none of this. Absolutely none.
Author's note: I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again, but this fandom does things to a person. This is my first time writing anything even close to NC-17 fic, and I'd guess it's pretty mild as NC-17 fics go, but, you know, be gentle. Inspired by this fanart by goobalicious and the description for said fanart.
Author's note 2: In my head, this take place in the same verse as my fic The Return of Something. You don't have to read that, though. Just that Morgana and Leon have had a friendship flirtatious thing throughout most of Season 2 while they have been practicing sword fighting or when they were stuck in court, but it hadn't gone anywhere.
He had nearly dislocated his shoulder upon waking. He had been knocked out during the dragon attack, and truth be told, he had been surprised to wake up at all. The twinging of his shoulder just added to the discomfort of the cuts and sores covering his body.
His wrists were tied above his head, he had known that upon waking. He tugged at them experimentally and swung his face upward as best he could, and saw that they had been tied separately with the same type of rope that looked to be holding up the tent around him.
He heard voices from not too far away and he turned his head too quickly toward the sound. A wave of nausea came at him and he stilled immediately and swallowed the mouthful of saliva that accompanied it. He mentally added concussion to his list of injuries.
He wondered at how calm he was. It was possible he was in shock. He was quite injured. But the general feeling overriding everything else was confusion. He hadn't expected to see the light of day ever again. After days of fighting and defending Camelot against the dragon for days on end, he had been exhausted. He had seen the look on the surviving villagers' faces, how exhausted his fellow knights were, and the increasingly frequent gazes of utter helplessness on the king's face. He had known in the pit of his stomach that there really hadn't been a choice. The dragon would eventually kill them all. If by bringing the fight to the dragon, they could buy Camelot more time to get away, or even if they could make the dragon miserable, their lives would not be forfeit.
He hadn't expected life afterward and definitely hadn't expected to have another fight on his hands directly afterward. Though a good knight should always prepare to fight in any situation, he felt that he had lost his footing simply by hearing the breeze in the trees.
He experimentally tugged at his wrists again and felt the rope tighten even more. Whoever had done so had known what they were doing. If his wrists had been tied together, it would have been easier to slip his wrists out. As it was, he could feel his fingers turning cold, though thankfully he still had feeling in his fingers and the rope, rough as it was, had yet to rub his wrists raw. He shifted his hips to feel for the knife he kept in his belt and realized that they had tied his legs as well, after having removed his boots and the knife.
He inched back as much as he could to get a bit of give to the rope binding his wrists and bent his hand till it ached and felt for any bit that felt lose.
Abruptly, the voices stopped and a gust of wind played across his hair as the flap of the tent was pulled open.
"He's awake. That makes you happy, I'm sure," a clipped female voice said.
"It does, actually. Thank you." Another female voice, exasperated sounding, answered. "Is he--are you all right, Leon?"
Impossibly, it was Morgana. Her hair was mussed, she had a rather ruddy complexion and was wearing a pair of trousers that were made of a coarser material than she had ever worn when they had practiced sword fighting, but she gave him a watery smile when their eyes met.
"Erm, well." He shifted in his bonds a bit, drawing a sharp look from the other woman as she moved into his eye line. With a jolt, he realized it was the sorceress who had enchanted Arthur into attacking the king. He immediately stilled. "What's happened?" He looked wildly around the tent, to see if a knife or sword had been left around for when he was able to get out of the ropes.
"What's happened is that the dragon Uther kept penned underneath Camelot escaped and once he saw fit to stretch his wings, you followed the king's son in foolishly trying to kill the creature."
"If Arthur hadn't, all of Camelot would have been dead by the end of the day!" Leon shouted, trying to pull the ropes apart by sheer force.
"It would serve the court of Camelot right for the continuous killing of our race for decades."
"A race that constantly besieged the people of Camelot! If the king hadn't instituted the purges, there would be no Camelot!"
"Albion would be all the better for it." Without warning, the woman pushed a calloused hand against his throat, slamming his head against the plank he was resting on and nearly crushing his windpipe, so all he could do was making a choking sound. She hissed words that he couldn't possibly understand and her eyes glowed briefly. An incredibly hot sensation swept over him, like he was nearly being smothered. He thrashed about as much as he could, trying desperately to break the hold. He gasped for air, feeling as though he were breathing very thick steam.
Just when he felt as though his heart was about to beat out of hsi chest, the smothered feeling ceased and the blond woman abruptly let go of his throat.
"He is fine," she said to Morgana, who muttered "Thank God."
"He will have scars but they will heal cleanly. He has a mild concussion, but he will recover." She pursed her lips. "Don't get too enthusiastic experimenting," she told Morgana. "Or be overenthusiastic" She threw a contemptuosus glare at Leon. "I don't care what you do." She turned to Leon. "Don't try and get out of those ropes by the way. I've enchanted them myself. You couldn't get them untied even if you had your knife."
She strode out of the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind her.
Leon stared after her, too surprised and too relieved to not have the wet blanket sensation over his face to say anything for a moment. He was very aware of Morgana's position in the tent and he tried to work some moisture in his mouth after he looked back at her. "My l--Morgana. What's happened?"
"She was taking in his injuries and wouldn't meet his eyes. "What Morgause--" she tilted her head back to the entrance of the tent. "said, more or less. The dragon that Uther had kept under the castle--the dragon is called Kilgharrah apparently--I mean, that's his name, according to the druids, you know?" Morgana began smoothing the slee ves of her tunic. "The dragon escaped somehow. Morgause thinks that someone must have let him go. I mean, it makes sense. He's been held by Uther for twenty years, why would he wait until now to escape if he could have done it all along?" She flicked her eyes to him, finally meeting his eyes again. "But you would have known all that, of course. We've been hearing of the dragon attacks on Camelot all week.
"You and Arthur and the other knights went after the dragon carrying out a plan that I can only assume was conceived by Arthur at the height of his most desperate stupidity." A ghost of a familiar smile lit up her face momentarily before a sob nearly escaped.
"Morgause wanted to watch the dragon face off against Uther's knights." She met his eyes again and her eyes welled up even more. "I--I had--Arthur is a good man-and that--I knew that the knights--" she put her hand on his and he could feel her shake. "I know the knights were trained by Arthur more so than Uther or anyone else and they would be more likely to take on Arthur's ideals than Uther's. I'd hoped that I could convince Morgause to help somehow, with the injured."
Leon gaped at her. "She enchanted all of Camelot in order to kill us! She kidnapped you, Morgana!"
"I wasn't kidnapped. And I knew that it wasn't the strongest hope." Morgana smiled weakly. "In any case, we arrived to late. The dragon had flown away by the time we arrived. There was no sign of Arthur, but two of the knights hadn't survived." She tightened her grip on his hand "I didn't recognize them. "
Leon swallowed and shook his head, remembering how incredibly hot the flames were. Death by fire...he hoped they had gone quickly.
"Everyone else had minor wounds, other than the burns. We left them. Gauis--" she halted
"Gauis lives." Leon told her, guessing at the implied question. "He and your handmaiden have been kept busy tending to the wounded this week."
"Gwen is unharmed?" Morgana asked, her hand tightening almost painfully around his.
"As far as I was able to tell." He stroked her knuckle as best he could with his thumb. After a moment, though, he had to ask. "Morgana, why was I brought here?"
She stared at his face and ran her finger down what must have been a very long cut, running from just under his eye to beyond his jawline.
"You understand that it has been ... a trying time for me as of late. The things that I've been through and the things that I've learned...I'd like to think that I'm stronger now than I have ever been, having lived most of my life as a pampered member of the royal household, and you know how I feel about that." She smiled at him. "But you looked terrible. There was too much blood. Your face, it looked as though some one had taken a cat-o-nine tails to your face. I could only think that the dragon had attacked you directly, and I couldn't imagine someone living through that.
"Morgause told me that you were alive and that your heart beat was strong and you likely would survive the wait until someone could attend to you. But I--it just looked so bad. I couldn't...I convinced her to bring you back with us. to heal you. She's ah...she's more talented than I."
"Talented." Leon said flatly.
"Yes." Her mouth was set in a firm line, but she hadn't pulled her hand out of his grip yet.
"As in talented-talented?" He pulled his head back as best he could, wiggled his fingers on the hand not holding on to hers, and opened his eyes wide.
She laughed a little at his expression, but she sobered almost immediately and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yes."
"Are you sure?" It was a lot to take in. After all these months of play sword fighting and the relationship, such as it were. To say nothing of her being Uther's ward.
She choked back something that could have been a laugh or a sob. "Oh yes, I'm sure."
There were a thousand things he wanted to ask her. How long? Who knew? Did the prince know? Gods, did Uther find out? Is that why she had, apparently, run off? He opened his mouth and she turned back to him, looking so desperate and as though she were ready to beg, though for what, he couldn't guess.
"Huh," he said instead.
The ghost of the smile returned to her face and her shoulders relaxed a fraction but she still looked close to tears.
"Do you think poorly of me, Le--Sir Leon?" She held her own thumb over his wrist and he could feel her pulse, nearly in time with his own.
"I do not know what to think, milady," he told her, returning her use of the honorific, but squeezing her hand gently. "It's been a trying time for many of us as of late."
"Of course," and he could hear the haughty tones she used when she was annoyed at someone but could not break court etiquette.
Leon wrinkled his forehead and if he were able, he would be pinching his nose. "Milady, you understand that I am fond of you and have always appreciated your company. If I am fond of you while helping you learn sword fighting, I will remain fond of you when you are talented in other areas. It is just that I spent most of my life in the service of the king and you can understand that it is a lot to take in. Is it not my prerogative to take some time to think about it?"
She didn't answer him, but returned the squeeze of his hand and gave him a genuine smile.
They stayed like that in silence for a few moments and Leon returned to running his thumb over her hand, earning himself a smile in the process.
"Morgana," he began hesitantly.
"Hmm?"
"You said Morgause was more talented than you."
She loked at him. "Yes," she answered cautiously.
"How...not talented are you?"
She smiled at some memory. "Not very. Little things. I can light candles and campfires, that sort of thing. Erm...those dreams I have?"
He nodded.
"Apparently they're visions."
"Visions?"
"Of the future."
He gaped at her. "Visions of the future. That's hardly a 'little thing.'"
She stiffened. "Well, they are wrong more often than right. And the ones that are right, there's not really much I can do to prevent them from happening. "She gave him a significant look and he wondered if that's how they knew where the dragon attack would take place.
He shifted, trying to get a little give from the rope so he could relax his shoulder a bit.
"How are you feeling?" Morgana asked him quickly.
He gave a little laugh. "More or less what she said." He nodded in the direction of the tent's flaps. "I've got a bit of a headache and now I'll have some proper knight scars."
She cupped a cool hand around his cheek and smiled at him. "Oh yes. Very proper." She turned serious again and frowned at the ropes. "I wish I could untie or at least loosen them," She tugged at the one holding his left hand experimentally.
"They're worse than they look, I think." Leon said, attempting to tilt his face up to look at them. He grinned at her as she inspected the. "They're very comfortable, actually. I think everyone will be using them in the future."
Morgana pushed at his shoulder playfully.
Leon felt his eyes widen. "Oh, Morgana."
She immediately pulled back her hand. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"
"No..." He shifted his weight as best he could again. "No, that felt...amazing." The tingling sensation that he hadn't even been aware of had eased in that arm, and he felt as though he muscles didn't catch as much in that area.
"This?" Morgana put her hand back on his shoulder and pushed again, but this time keeping a constant pressure on it. "This feels amazing?" Her other hand began to kneed at his neck and it was all he could do not to groan.
"You have no idea." He swore his eyes started to roll back in his head as she moved to the back of his neck as best as she were able in the awkward position.
She laughed a little and he could feel the slight callouses she had developed during their sword fighting practice as her hands moved under the collar of his tunic. She paused and gently pulled his tunic up over his head as best she could, given the ropes, and returned to his shoulder.
"I think I have some idea. You don't want to know how sore I was the first few days we started sword fighting. I never would have admitted it at the time, but if it weren't for Gwen, I wouldn't have been able to move the next day."
"Gwen?" He meant to say this out loud, but Morgana had just done something to his neck that produced the most satisfying crack and produced and explosion of color behind his eyelids, so the word came out more as a whimper.
"Yes." Even with his eyes closed, he knew she was smiling. "You wouldn't know it to look at her, being such a proper handmaiden, but she is quite strong. She is the daughter of a blacksmith, after all."
Leon tried not to focus on this mental image of Morgana getting a massage from her rather attractive in her own way handmaiden too much as his breeches were already beginning to get too tight. But then Morgana leaned into work on his opposite bicep and her hair brushed against his face, the strands somehow catching on his beard, and it was a lost cause.
After a moment she drew back and he wondered if she noticed his arousal, because when she spoke next to ask how he was, her voice was amazingly husky and he wouldn't put it past her to just make it worse for him when she knew very well he couldn't do something like walk it off or visit the privy.
Then she began to work at his temples, and all such thoughts flew out of his head . How could that spot...oh gods...how could that spot being rubbed do such things to a person? He felt like a fucking dog. And then, complaining in that same husky tone that she wasn't able to get a good angle, straddled him and resumed rubbing that spot behind his ears.
Oh yes, he thought as he let out another whimper. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Her hands moved down to his jawline and traced the worst of the cuts back up to his eye. Her fingers paused there for so long that he opened his eyes. She was frowning in concentration and staring at the beginning of the scratch, so that she was almost, but not quite meeting his eyes.
"What are you thinking?" He own voice sounded as husky as hers.
"Experimenting." She answered and Leon remembered Morgause's parting words. "Don't worry, I'm not good enough to take away your proper knight scars." She stared at her fingers again and took a deep breath. Then her eyes flashed gold and she whispered words in the same language Morgause had used.
It began with the most intense feeling he had ever known. Dots swam in front of his eyes, the suffocating feeling he had from Morgause was back and he felt as though someone had thrust the dull edge of a knife into the wound and was using the knife to reopen it. He nearly yelled, but just as suddenly it all disappeared and it was replaced with a feeling of absolute euphoria that he could only compare to the excitement of winning the last tourney's jousting competition, except this...this was so much more than that. A thousand times better than that.
He was aware of Morgana continuing to trace the cut to his jawline and he knew if he were able to, he would be clutching at her, her shoulders, her hips, her thighs, anything. As it was, he had to settle for continuously mumbling his appreciation. This turned into him constantly groaning "M'gana M'gana M'gana M'gana." He felt her thighs squeeze against him as she continued with the spell, to the point where his breath felt constricted, but he decided he didn't care.
She finished all too soon for his liking and relaxed her thighs. "Breeches are much more useful than dresses, especially for this sort of thing." She rocked back a little, squeezing her thighs again. He couldn't keep the grunt from escaping, and as he opened her eyes and saw the expression on her face, he decided he really didn't want to try, if it meant that she would keep doing that.
Morgana gave him an appraising look. "So this is as fun for you as it is for me, then?" and she rocked herself against him again.
"Oh, gods, Morgana," he whimpered.
She smiled at him wickedly and pushed herself upright a little and maneuvered herself so that she was positioned over his thighs, deliberately brushing against his bulging cock in the process, and made to begin unlacing his breeches.
But then she paused and looked at him. "You do want this as much as I do, right?"
"Oh gods, yes. But--"
"Uther will have our heads?" She resumed unlacing his breeches and each time her fingertips brushed against his bare skin, a glimmer of the feeling from when she had healed his face came back. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out.
"Uther need never know. Also, I've been practicing magic and you've aided a sorceress in her studies of the forbidden arts." She quirked an eyebrow and tapped the scar on his face. "In for a penny."
And Leon would have had more to say to that except that Morgana had finished with the lacing and she slid off him to tug his breeches down to his ankles, unable to pull them off completely because of the rope. He spared a thought for how ridiculous he must look but that was forgotten as Morgana stepped out of her own breeches and returned to straddle him. Her fingers returned to his lower abdomen and that euphoric reeling returned as her fingers traveled down and worked him so that he was even harder than he was before, and he was certain his eyes had rolled back now.
He heard Morgana groaning above him and he focused his eyes enough to see she was using her other hand to pleasure herself, apparently using her own talent on herself.
Sensing him looking at her, her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she adjusted her position, lowering herself down on him, guiding him into her and the euphoric feeling impossibly increased tenfold and more than nearly anything, he wished his hands were free, just so he could do something. Rake his fingers through her longer hair, pull her close, anything.
She returned to that spot behind his ear, sucking on it and then tracing his earlobe with her tongue. She seemed to like rubbing her forehead against his beard and he kissed her there over and over again, feeling her smile against his chest.
It passed mostly in a blur. Between the sweat and the noise and the wet, at some point Morgana's tunic had come off, and Morgana's flickering golden eyes and a spell that was nearly shouted as he arched into her, the rope holding his left hand loosened and he immediately used it to explore her, making her breath hitch.
Eventually, they exhausted themselves, and she curled around and over him, avoiding the worst of the boards he rested on, and he held on to her as best he could with the one are, and gradually they fell asleep.
***
Two mornings after Prince Arthur had defeated the dragon Kilgharrah, Sir Leon of Camelot was found slumped against the walls of the Castle near the North Gate, the least used of all the entrances into Camelot. He had no memory of where he had been, even when he was questioned by the king, and indeed couldn't remember anything after leaving the Castle. He was about as injured as could be expected, though it was theorized that whoever had found him had done something for him, as his scratches were healing faster than anyone else's. Sir Leon was more bothered than anyone that he had no recollection of what had been done to him, but Gaius informed him after examining him that he had a concussion, which would account for the memory loss.
It was wondered at for a few days, but mostly people were glad that the favored knight of the king and the prince had been returned, and it was mostly forgotten by next week, when the next monster attacked Camelot.
As for Leon, he never did remember who the kind sol that patched him up and then unceremoniously dumped him outside the castle walls. At least not until Uther had died and Morgana came back to the Castle. She was all too happy to remind him in every unoccupied chamber and closet she could push him into.
Until then, at least if Leon had blushed in confused embarrassment the first few times he saw the Lady Morgana's handmaiden, at least Arthur hadn't been around to see it. And if he had oddly consistent dreams, he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone. The last thing he needed was word getting to Uther and Arthur that he had been having dreams of an intimate nature about the king's missing ward.
Fandom: BBC's Merlin
Rating: NC-17. I never thought I'd see the day
Characters/pairings: Sir Leon/Morgana, blink and you'll miss it possible Morgana/Gwen
Warnings: *coughs*bondage*cough*
Spoilers: Through all of series two.
Word count: 4,081
Summary: After unexpectedly surviving the events of The Last Dragonlord, Sir Leon wakes up in the last place he would have imagined.
Disclaimer: I own none of this. Absolutely none.
Author's note: I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again, but this fandom does things to a person. This is my first time writing anything even close to NC-17 fic, and I'd guess it's pretty mild as NC-17 fics go, but, you know, be gentle. Inspired by this fanart by goobalicious and the description for said fanart.
Author's note 2: In my head, this take place in the same verse as my fic The Return of Something. You don't have to read that, though. Just that Morgana and Leon have had a friendship flirtatious thing throughout most of Season 2 while they have been practicing sword fighting or when they were stuck in court, but it hadn't gone anywhere.
He had nearly dislocated his shoulder upon waking. He had been knocked out during the dragon attack, and truth be told, he had been surprised to wake up at all. The twinging of his shoulder just added to the discomfort of the cuts and sores covering his body.
His wrists were tied above his head, he had known that upon waking. He tugged at them experimentally and swung his face upward as best he could, and saw that they had been tied separately with the same type of rope that looked to be holding up the tent around him.
He heard voices from not too far away and he turned his head too quickly toward the sound. A wave of nausea came at him and he stilled immediately and swallowed the mouthful of saliva that accompanied it. He mentally added concussion to his list of injuries.
He wondered at how calm he was. It was possible he was in shock. He was quite injured. But the general feeling overriding everything else was confusion. He hadn't expected to see the light of day ever again. After days of fighting and defending Camelot against the dragon for days on end, he had been exhausted. He had seen the look on the surviving villagers' faces, how exhausted his fellow knights were, and the increasingly frequent gazes of utter helplessness on the king's face. He had known in the pit of his stomach that there really hadn't been a choice. The dragon would eventually kill them all. If by bringing the fight to the dragon, they could buy Camelot more time to get away, or even if they could make the dragon miserable, their lives would not be forfeit.
He hadn't expected life afterward and definitely hadn't expected to have another fight on his hands directly afterward. Though a good knight should always prepare to fight in any situation, he felt that he had lost his footing simply by hearing the breeze in the trees.
He experimentally tugged at his wrists again and felt the rope tighten even more. Whoever had done so had known what they were doing. If his wrists had been tied together, it would have been easier to slip his wrists out. As it was, he could feel his fingers turning cold, though thankfully he still had feeling in his fingers and the rope, rough as it was, had yet to rub his wrists raw. He shifted his hips to feel for the knife he kept in his belt and realized that they had tied his legs as well, after having removed his boots and the knife.
He inched back as much as he could to get a bit of give to the rope binding his wrists and bent his hand till it ached and felt for any bit that felt lose.
Abruptly, the voices stopped and a gust of wind played across his hair as the flap of the tent was pulled open.
"He's awake. That makes you happy, I'm sure," a clipped female voice said.
"It does, actually. Thank you." Another female voice, exasperated sounding, answered. "Is he--are you all right, Leon?"
Impossibly, it was Morgana. Her hair was mussed, she had a rather ruddy complexion and was wearing a pair of trousers that were made of a coarser material than she had ever worn when they had practiced sword fighting, but she gave him a watery smile when their eyes met.
"Erm, well." He shifted in his bonds a bit, drawing a sharp look from the other woman as she moved into his eye line. With a jolt, he realized it was the sorceress who had enchanted Arthur into attacking the king. He immediately stilled. "What's happened?" He looked wildly around the tent, to see if a knife or sword had been left around for when he was able to get out of the ropes.
"What's happened is that the dragon Uther kept penned underneath Camelot escaped and once he saw fit to stretch his wings, you followed the king's son in foolishly trying to kill the creature."
"If Arthur hadn't, all of Camelot would have been dead by the end of the day!" Leon shouted, trying to pull the ropes apart by sheer force.
"It would serve the court of Camelot right for the continuous killing of our race for decades."
"A race that constantly besieged the people of Camelot! If the king hadn't instituted the purges, there would be no Camelot!"
"Albion would be all the better for it." Without warning, the woman pushed a calloused hand against his throat, slamming his head against the plank he was resting on and nearly crushing his windpipe, so all he could do was making a choking sound. She hissed words that he couldn't possibly understand and her eyes glowed briefly. An incredibly hot sensation swept over him, like he was nearly being smothered. He thrashed about as much as he could, trying desperately to break the hold. He gasped for air, feeling as though he were breathing very thick steam.
Just when he felt as though his heart was about to beat out of hsi chest, the smothered feeling ceased and the blond woman abruptly let go of his throat.
"He is fine," she said to Morgana, who muttered "Thank God."
"He will have scars but they will heal cleanly. He has a mild concussion, but he will recover." She pursed her lips. "Don't get too enthusiastic experimenting," she told Morgana. "Or be overenthusiastic" She threw a contemptuosus glare at Leon. "I don't care what you do." She turned to Leon. "Don't try and get out of those ropes by the way. I've enchanted them myself. You couldn't get them untied even if you had your knife."
She strode out of the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind her.
Leon stared after her, too surprised and too relieved to not have the wet blanket sensation over his face to say anything for a moment. He was very aware of Morgana's position in the tent and he tried to work some moisture in his mouth after he looked back at her. "My l--Morgana. What's happened?"
"She was taking in his injuries and wouldn't meet his eyes. "What Morgause--" she tilted her head back to the entrance of the tent. "said, more or less. The dragon that Uther had kept under the castle--the dragon is called Kilgharrah apparently--I mean, that's his name, according to the druids, you know?" Morgana began smoothing the slee ves of her tunic. "The dragon escaped somehow. Morgause thinks that someone must have let him go. I mean, it makes sense. He's been held by Uther for twenty years, why would he wait until now to escape if he could have done it all along?" She flicked her eyes to him, finally meeting his eyes again. "But you would have known all that, of course. We've been hearing of the dragon attacks on Camelot all week.
"You and Arthur and the other knights went after the dragon carrying out a plan that I can only assume was conceived by Arthur at the height of his most desperate stupidity." A ghost of a familiar smile lit up her face momentarily before a sob nearly escaped.
"Morgause wanted to watch the dragon face off against Uther's knights." She met his eyes again and her eyes welled up even more. "I--I had--Arthur is a good man-and that--I knew that the knights--" she put her hand on his and he could feel her shake. "I know the knights were trained by Arthur more so than Uther or anyone else and they would be more likely to take on Arthur's ideals than Uther's. I'd hoped that I could convince Morgause to help somehow, with the injured."
Leon gaped at her. "She enchanted all of Camelot in order to kill us! She kidnapped you, Morgana!"
"I wasn't kidnapped. And I knew that it wasn't the strongest hope." Morgana smiled weakly. "In any case, we arrived to late. The dragon had flown away by the time we arrived. There was no sign of Arthur, but two of the knights hadn't survived." She tightened her grip on his hand "I didn't recognize them. "
Leon swallowed and shook his head, remembering how incredibly hot the flames were. Death by fire...he hoped they had gone quickly.
"Everyone else had minor wounds, other than the burns. We left them. Gauis--" she halted
"Gauis lives." Leon told her, guessing at the implied question. "He and your handmaiden have been kept busy tending to the wounded this week."
"Gwen is unharmed?" Morgana asked, her hand tightening almost painfully around his.
"As far as I was able to tell." He stroked her knuckle as best he could with his thumb. After a moment, though, he had to ask. "Morgana, why was I brought here?"
She stared at his face and ran her finger down what must have been a very long cut, running from just under his eye to beyond his jawline.
"You understand that it has been ... a trying time for me as of late. The things that I've been through and the things that I've learned...I'd like to think that I'm stronger now than I have ever been, having lived most of my life as a pampered member of the royal household, and you know how I feel about that." She smiled at him. "But you looked terrible. There was too much blood. Your face, it looked as though some one had taken a cat-o-nine tails to your face. I could only think that the dragon had attacked you directly, and I couldn't imagine someone living through that.
"Morgause told me that you were alive and that your heart beat was strong and you likely would survive the wait until someone could attend to you. But I--it just looked so bad. I couldn't...I convinced her to bring you back with us. to heal you. She's ah...she's more talented than I."
"Talented." Leon said flatly.
"Yes." Her mouth was set in a firm line, but she hadn't pulled her hand out of his grip yet.
"As in talented-talented?" He pulled his head back as best he could, wiggled his fingers on the hand not holding on to hers, and opened his eyes wide.
She laughed a little at his expression, but she sobered almost immediately and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yes."
"Are you sure?" It was a lot to take in. After all these months of play sword fighting and the relationship, such as it were. To say nothing of her being Uther's ward.
She choked back something that could have been a laugh or a sob. "Oh yes, I'm sure."
There were a thousand things he wanted to ask her. How long? Who knew? Did the prince know? Gods, did Uther find out? Is that why she had, apparently, run off? He opened his mouth and she turned back to him, looking so desperate and as though she were ready to beg, though for what, he couldn't guess.
"Huh," he said instead.
The ghost of the smile returned to her face and her shoulders relaxed a fraction but she still looked close to tears.
"Do you think poorly of me, Le--Sir Leon?" She held her own thumb over his wrist and he could feel her pulse, nearly in time with his own.
"I do not know what to think, milady," he told her, returning her use of the honorific, but squeezing her hand gently. "It's been a trying time for many of us as of late."
"Of course," and he could hear the haughty tones she used when she was annoyed at someone but could not break court etiquette.
Leon wrinkled his forehead and if he were able, he would be pinching his nose. "Milady, you understand that I am fond of you and have always appreciated your company. If I am fond of you while helping you learn sword fighting, I will remain fond of you when you are talented in other areas. It is just that I spent most of my life in the service of the king and you can understand that it is a lot to take in. Is it not my prerogative to take some time to think about it?"
She didn't answer him, but returned the squeeze of his hand and gave him a genuine smile.
They stayed like that in silence for a few moments and Leon returned to running his thumb over her hand, earning himself a smile in the process.
"Morgana," he began hesitantly.
"Hmm?"
"You said Morgause was more talented than you."
She loked at him. "Yes," she answered cautiously.
"How...not talented are you?"
She smiled at some memory. "Not very. Little things. I can light candles and campfires, that sort of thing. Erm...those dreams I have?"
He nodded.
"Apparently they're visions."
"Visions?"
"Of the future."
He gaped at her. "Visions of the future. That's hardly a 'little thing.'"
She stiffened. "Well, they are wrong more often than right. And the ones that are right, there's not really much I can do to prevent them from happening. "She gave him a significant look and he wondered if that's how they knew where the dragon attack would take place.
He shifted, trying to get a little give from the rope so he could relax his shoulder a bit.
"How are you feeling?" Morgana asked him quickly.
He gave a little laugh. "More or less what she said." He nodded in the direction of the tent's flaps. "I've got a bit of a headache and now I'll have some proper knight scars."
She cupped a cool hand around his cheek and smiled at him. "Oh yes. Very proper." She turned serious again and frowned at the ropes. "I wish I could untie or at least loosen them," She tugged at the one holding his left hand experimentally.
"They're worse than they look, I think." Leon said, attempting to tilt his face up to look at them. He grinned at her as she inspected the. "They're very comfortable, actually. I think everyone will be using them in the future."
Morgana pushed at his shoulder playfully.
Leon felt his eyes widen. "Oh, Morgana."
She immediately pulled back her hand. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"
"No..." He shifted his weight as best he could again. "No, that felt...amazing." The tingling sensation that he hadn't even been aware of had eased in that arm, and he felt as though he muscles didn't catch as much in that area.
"This?" Morgana put her hand back on his shoulder and pushed again, but this time keeping a constant pressure on it. "This feels amazing?" Her other hand began to kneed at his neck and it was all he could do not to groan.
"You have no idea." He swore his eyes started to roll back in his head as she moved to the back of his neck as best as she were able in the awkward position.
She laughed a little and he could feel the slight callouses she had developed during their sword fighting practice as her hands moved under the collar of his tunic. She paused and gently pulled his tunic up over his head as best she could, given the ropes, and returned to his shoulder.
"I think I have some idea. You don't want to know how sore I was the first few days we started sword fighting. I never would have admitted it at the time, but if it weren't for Gwen, I wouldn't have been able to move the next day."
"Gwen?" He meant to say this out loud, but Morgana had just done something to his neck that produced the most satisfying crack and produced and explosion of color behind his eyelids, so the word came out more as a whimper.
"Yes." Even with his eyes closed, he knew she was smiling. "You wouldn't know it to look at her, being such a proper handmaiden, but she is quite strong. She is the daughter of a blacksmith, after all."
Leon tried not to focus on this mental image of Morgana getting a massage from her rather attractive in her own way handmaiden too much as his breeches were already beginning to get too tight. But then Morgana leaned into work on his opposite bicep and her hair brushed against his face, the strands somehow catching on his beard, and it was a lost cause.
After a moment she drew back and he wondered if she noticed his arousal, because when she spoke next to ask how he was, her voice was amazingly husky and he wouldn't put it past her to just make it worse for him when she knew very well he couldn't do something like walk it off or visit the privy.
Then she began to work at his temples, and all such thoughts flew out of his head . How could that spot...oh gods...how could that spot being rubbed do such things to a person? He felt like a fucking dog. And then, complaining in that same husky tone that she wasn't able to get a good angle, straddled him and resumed rubbing that spot behind his ears.
Oh yes, he thought as he let out another whimper. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Her hands moved down to his jawline and traced the worst of the cuts back up to his eye. Her fingers paused there for so long that he opened his eyes. She was frowning in concentration and staring at the beginning of the scratch, so that she was almost, but not quite meeting his eyes.
"What are you thinking?" He own voice sounded as husky as hers.
"Experimenting." She answered and Leon remembered Morgause's parting words. "Don't worry, I'm not good enough to take away your proper knight scars." She stared at her fingers again and took a deep breath. Then her eyes flashed gold and she whispered words in the same language Morgause had used.
It began with the most intense feeling he had ever known. Dots swam in front of his eyes, the suffocating feeling he had from Morgause was back and he felt as though someone had thrust the dull edge of a knife into the wound and was using the knife to reopen it. He nearly yelled, but just as suddenly it all disappeared and it was replaced with a feeling of absolute euphoria that he could only compare to the excitement of winning the last tourney's jousting competition, except this...this was so much more than that. A thousand times better than that.
He was aware of Morgana continuing to trace the cut to his jawline and he knew if he were able to, he would be clutching at her, her shoulders, her hips, her thighs, anything. As it was, he had to settle for continuously mumbling his appreciation. This turned into him constantly groaning "M'gana M'gana M'gana M'gana." He felt her thighs squeeze against him as she continued with the spell, to the point where his breath felt constricted, but he decided he didn't care.
She finished all too soon for his liking and relaxed her thighs. "Breeches are much more useful than dresses, especially for this sort of thing." She rocked back a little, squeezing her thighs again. He couldn't keep the grunt from escaping, and as he opened her eyes and saw the expression on her face, he decided he really didn't want to try, if it meant that she would keep doing that.
Morgana gave him an appraising look. "So this is as fun for you as it is for me, then?" and she rocked herself against him again.
"Oh, gods, Morgana," he whimpered.
She smiled at him wickedly and pushed herself upright a little and maneuvered herself so that she was positioned over his thighs, deliberately brushing against his bulging cock in the process, and made to begin unlacing his breeches.
But then she paused and looked at him. "You do want this as much as I do, right?"
"Oh gods, yes. But--"
"Uther will have our heads?" She resumed unlacing his breeches and each time her fingertips brushed against his bare skin, a glimmer of the feeling from when she had healed his face came back. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out.
"Uther need never know. Also, I've been practicing magic and you've aided a sorceress in her studies of the forbidden arts." She quirked an eyebrow and tapped the scar on his face. "In for a penny."
And Leon would have had more to say to that except that Morgana had finished with the lacing and she slid off him to tug his breeches down to his ankles, unable to pull them off completely because of the rope. He spared a thought for how ridiculous he must look but that was forgotten as Morgana stepped out of her own breeches and returned to straddle him. Her fingers returned to his lower abdomen and that euphoric reeling returned as her fingers traveled down and worked him so that he was even harder than he was before, and he was certain his eyes had rolled back now.
He heard Morgana groaning above him and he focused his eyes enough to see she was using her other hand to pleasure herself, apparently using her own talent on herself.
Sensing him looking at her, her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she adjusted her position, lowering herself down on him, guiding him into her and the euphoric feeling impossibly increased tenfold and more than nearly anything, he wished his hands were free, just so he could do something. Rake his fingers through her longer hair, pull her close, anything.
She returned to that spot behind his ear, sucking on it and then tracing his earlobe with her tongue. She seemed to like rubbing her forehead against his beard and he kissed her there over and over again, feeling her smile against his chest.
It passed mostly in a blur. Between the sweat and the noise and the wet, at some point Morgana's tunic had come off, and Morgana's flickering golden eyes and a spell that was nearly shouted as he arched into her, the rope holding his left hand loosened and he immediately used it to explore her, making her breath hitch.
Eventually, they exhausted themselves, and she curled around and over him, avoiding the worst of the boards he rested on, and he held on to her as best he could with the one are, and gradually they fell asleep.
***
Two mornings after Prince Arthur had defeated the dragon Kilgharrah, Sir Leon of Camelot was found slumped against the walls of the Castle near the North Gate, the least used of all the entrances into Camelot. He had no memory of where he had been, even when he was questioned by the king, and indeed couldn't remember anything after leaving the Castle. He was about as injured as could be expected, though it was theorized that whoever had found him had done something for him, as his scratches were healing faster than anyone else's. Sir Leon was more bothered than anyone that he had no recollection of what had been done to him, but Gaius informed him after examining him that he had a concussion, which would account for the memory loss.
It was wondered at for a few days, but mostly people were glad that the favored knight of the king and the prince had been returned, and it was mostly forgotten by next week, when the next monster attacked Camelot.
As for Leon, he never did remember who the kind sol that patched him up and then unceremoniously dumped him outside the castle walls. At least not until Uther had died and Morgana came back to the Castle. She was all too happy to remind him in every unoccupied chamber and closet she could push him into.
Until then, at least if Leon had blushed in confused embarrassment the first few times he saw the Lady Morgana's handmaiden, at least Arthur hadn't been around to see it. And if he had oddly consistent dreams, he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone. The last thing he needed was word getting to Uther and Arthur that he had been having dreams of an intimate nature about the king's missing ward.