A/N: Hello everyone! This is one of my first attempts at fanfiction, so it's probably horrible, but oh well. I've had this idea in my mind for a while, and figured I might as well try it out. Let me know if it's any good? Constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Credit to Tal Bachman for 'She's So High' and the creators of Merlin for the characters.

She's blood, flesh, and bone

No tucks or silicone

She's touch, smell, sight, taste and sound

But somehow I can't believe

That anything should happen

I know where I belong

And nothing's gonna happen

Yeah, yeah

Morgana Pendragon was, in a word, perfection. Or, rather, a goddess. Or, in a couple of words, she was absolutely, positively, irrevocably unattainable to one such as herself.

There were a couple of reasons why there was zero hope for any kind of future with Morgana Pendragon. First, and perhaps the most obvious, was that it was unseemly for a woman to have those sort of feelings for another woman (no matter how strong and pure those feelings may be). Second, she was just a servant, and Morgana Pendragon was royalty, the King's ward- therefore, her head would be chopped off if the King heard of any sort of relationship between him and his precious ward. Third, as previously mentioned, Morgana Pendragon was a goddess. Men drooled all over her consistently- what kind of chance would she have? Fourth, and most importantly, the raven-haired beauty probably had no idea that a servant named Rose even existed.

And despite all of these very obvious and good reasons, the light-haired servant still found herself slightly (or perhaps pathetically was a better word) in love with the noble.

She supposed it all started on her first day as a servant in Camelot, roughly four years ago. One of the maids who had served the Pendragons the longest, a tight-lipped, cruel old hag, had been elected to show her around the castle.

They'd been walking the grounds and were passing the knights' training area when a flash of long, raven hair in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Rose had stopped to look at the peculiar sight, stunned to see a dark-haired woman whirling a sword towards the prince of Camelot himself.

"Who's she?" Rose had asked her tour guide of sorts, impressed with the woman's graceful movements. Her hazel eyes had followed the sword as it came clanging down onto Prince Arthur's own weapon. The unnamed woman dodged the blonde man's next attack, and, as soon as his side was left open, struck him, sending the prince crashing to the ground.

Rose hadn't been able to help the laughter that bubbled up, despite the glares of the elder maid besides her. Soon the older woman whacked her upside the head, hissing, "That is the King's ward Lady Morgana, and you would be right to remember your place."

Rose had swallowed back her laughter and continued on the tour, glancing over her shoulder to get one last look at the beautiful swordswoman.

That had been the first flicker of attraction, or at least appreciation, anyway, and it honestly had just went downhill from there. The next couple of times Rose saw the woman had been in the halls of the castle, or during the King's feasts. She'd always found herself staring, which was honestly pathetic- enough people stared at the Lady Morgana, and she'd always been taught as a child that staring was rude. So, she tried not to stare, but her attempts were in vain, of course. Something about the woman just managed to attract everyone in the room's attention- especially Rose's, apparently.

Maybe it was the fact that the Lady Morgana consistently stood up to the king. Which Rose found quite impressive, considering the fact that she found the king to be quite menacing at times. Maybe it was the fact that the Lady Morgana wasn't afraid to stand up for what she believed in just in general. Maybe it was her consistent compassion and kindness to her subjects. Maybe it was the way she teased Prince Arthur and friends. Maybe it was the twinkling eyes and gigantic smile- well, now you're just getting off-topic.

Anyway, the point was, Morgana Pendragon was lovely, but any hope of Rose having any sort of relationship with the noble was simply preposterous and naive. For goodness's sake, she hadn't even spoken to the woman before, and she was almost positive that she wouldn't be able to choke out a single intelligible sentence if forced to speak to her.

Xxx

The day had been a tough, exhausting one.

The woman Rose typically looked after, Lady Percival, was being particularly horrid today. She was nosy and always was gossiping about the other nobles, with the occasional (read: frequent) snarky comment about the servants, and today she had apparently decided to turn her sights on her own maid.

"I heard that that serving girl- oh, you know, the mousy-looking one. Well, apparently she's got herself a paramour. Young fellow, short and rather troll-like- no prince, of course. Lady Clara says they're engaged. When are you getting engaged, dear? You're not getting any younger, after all. Sort of sad you're not married, really... I was, after all, by your age. You must be horribly depressed, hmm? I'd be, since it's quite embarrassing, frankly. I'd be absolutely mortified. Well, don't go falling on any swords now, you hear me young lady? No need to be dramatic, you'll be married soon enough."

Although literally every fiber of her being was offended by what Lady Percival had just said, Rose forced herself to bite her tongue and give the woman a tight smile though it killed her.

The rest of the day didn't go even remotely better. As a matter of fact, it got even worse. The king, prince, and Lady Morgana were having lunch, and the servant who usually filled their goblets was sick, so Rose had been asked to fill in. As soon as she entered the room, she felt her throat grow tight and her stomach flip. She felt awful about this- she wasn't supposed to be this close to the Lady Morgana, she just wasn't. She had a sinking suspicion that this would end rather badly.

And end badly it would. She had gotten distracted whilst pouring wine for Prince Arthur- Lady Morgana had been wiping her mouth with a napkin, and Rose found herself unable to look away. Which, of course, resulted in her missing the cup and pouring the wine into Prince Arthur's lap. Her face had turned bright red as the King shouted at her, only for the Lady Morgana to swiftly jump in.

"Please, my Lord, it was simply a mistake," the dark-haired woman reasoned, glancing at Rose, who felt uncomfortable under her piercing emerald gaze. She didn't think Lady Morgana had ever looked at her before, and she didn't know whether to burst into tears or jump up and down in excitement.

King Uther hesitated before nodding, dismissing her. Rose curtsied and scrambled out of the room, thoroughly embarrassed and with her cheeks red hot.

The rest of her day consisted of repairing Lady Percival's old dresses, a tedious task that was one of her least favorites.

After the noble released her for the night, she made a spur-of-the-moment decision- something that was especially uncharacteristic of her. She decided that she might as well head to the tavern, and relieve some of her stress via mead.

All she'd intended to do was have enough to drink that she'd get giggly- you know, lose herself for a bit, get her mind off of her terrible day. But apparently, giggly-drunk her was nonexistent. Instead, terrible-ideas-drunk her reared its ugly, ugly head.

"You know, George," she had slurred, eyes going wide with realization as she rested a hand on the shoulder of a currently passed out George. "I'm young, right? I should be doing stupid things, living life, but I'm not. I've always done what's rational, what's right, but look where that's got me! Boring old life with a boring old job. The only light in my life, well-"

And suddenly an idea- a terrible, idiotic, possibly life-altering idea- hit her mead-addled brain.

And that was how she found herself stumbling into the castle, all the way to the door which she knew was the door to the Lady Morgana's chambers. With a huge, dopey grin on her face, she rapped on the woman's door once, twice, three times.