10 SIGNS OF UNREQUITED LOVE

6.

Rumours and Humility

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Yule time.

"Hmm, no. This was the colour chosen last year and it all turned out quite plain."

"But m'lady, it is the colour chosen every year…"

Sighing Morgana touched the fabric, only to have her suspicions confirmed. The red linen looked good from a distance but once the considerable light of candles lit up the room and the courtiers were seated at the banquet table, the flaws of the red tablecloth would be plain for the viewing.

Thankfully, Gwen returned to the hall, her timing always impeccable, and Morgana felt somewhat better. She needed to vent out her frustrations to somebody, somebody who would listen – a criteria that immediately excluded Arthur from suitable candidates. Glancing over at her foster sibling, all preoccupied with reports, lists and provision orders, she couldn't help rolling her eyes at his frowning concentration. Always the good son, he had his moments of disobedience, yet so far more often than not he followed orders. Lately something distanced her from Camelot's Crown Prince, a feeling of apprehension.

Exhausted and bored, the lady approached her handmaiden, while the merchant standing in the hall put forward some further choices for his royal customer. Her station as the King's ward and something of a first lady of Camelot until either the king or the prince married, put her in charge of the decorations of the upcoming Yule feast. The constant fear of somebody discovering her supernatural abilities, followed by heavy sleep depravation, turned every day under Uther's roof into a trial; a never-ending torture. Despite her hope for the better, the King did not change; as soon as the word magic was uttered, the executioner was called upon.

During the desolate nights she kept poor Gwen by her side and now her maid was practically living in the castle. Every night they followed a routine: Gwen would try to brighten her spirits with flowers, bid her good night, then she would wake up screaming and clutching for her friend, who of course came rushing in. Morgana would lie in her arms for hours until dawn came along and she fell asleep out of pure exhaustion. As she woke up near noon, the cycle continued with Gwen bringing her yet another flower arrangement with colourful blossom. She of course, could sleep in every morning and then do absolutely nothing the rest of the day, whereas Guinevere, she knew, worked and put in effort every hour for years from six on the morrow till midnight. The somewhat younger girl resembled something of a cousin, and Morgana took it upon herself to keep her safe. Her protection saved Gwen from following the trend as another disposable notch on the knights' bedposts, or yet another victim of Uther's. And now that she was left all alone after Tom had been murdered at Uther's command, the two young women were closer than ever, despite Morgana's occasional snapping and bitter mood lately.

Reminded of her tyrannical guardian, Morgana felt a wave of anger welling up inside her. She snatched the already filled wine goblet from the offered tray in Gwen's hands and swallowed it down as if a cup of water. The burning bitter sweetness warmed up and soothed her insides, humbling her traitorous thoughts conspiring against her guardian. Ignoring Gwen's astonished look, she filled up yet another portion, welcoming the buzzing feeling.

"A bit early, don't you think?" Morgana startled. Turning to her left she saw that Arthur was standing next to her maid, a matching look of surprise set on his facial features, albeit his was not without amused scorn.

The prince took the wine offered to him by her handmaiden, thanking her with a smile. "Finally realised how uneventful your simplistic life truly is?" he said, once again resuming his seat by the table. "I told you that brushing your hair all day long is not an engaging occupation." Morgana narrowed her eyes. "I would have thought that having finally something to do would brighten your spirits and you'd stop being such a shrew."

She smiled wryly: "Rather a shrew than blunt tool", satisfied by the glare he granted her.

Standing awkwardly in between the prince and King Uther's ward, Harold the merchant cleared his throat. "Mayhap this will be more to ye liking, m'lady?"

"Don't count on it."

Ignoring Arthur's sarcastic muttering, she took a step closer to look closer at the offered fabric. The same red again only this time charmeuse!

"Ugh! Why must it be red?" she exclaimed, startling poor Harold and spilling some of her wine as she swung her right arm. "Green is a colour just as suitable, and purple even grumbling old Bishop would approve of, yet here we are, twenty years have gone by and it's red year after year." Draining the last remains of her drink, she swayed on her feet and almost slammed the goblet back on the table. Composing herself and ignoring Gwen's sprint to her side, Morgana ignored the buzzing in her head and approached the lined up rolls of fabric leaned against the wall.

"This! This is perfect!" Clutching deep violet muslin, she dragged it across the hall and grabbed Gwen's hand, free now that she's settled the brick with the wine flagon on the wooden table next to her mistress's discarded chalice. "Here Gwen! Feel it. You must agree with me, purple, violet, lilac… you name it, are your favourite colours."

Standing awkwardly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention, Guinevere glanced at the room's occupants: two guards, two servants, a merchant and a prince. "My lady…"

"No use denying it, I know them to be!"

"Indeed," she tried again uneasy to reveal this personal preference of hers, "you know me well, yet red is more traditional and it is a most flattering colour on you."

"If it were red in general depiction Gwen, I would not mind; burgundy is indeed a wonderful setting against my complexion. But this is Pendragon red." She scoffed and filled up yet another portion of the Cyprian wine, not willing for the buzz to subside.

Arthur frowned at her.

"What's wrong with Pendragon red?" He shifted behind his desk, clearing his throat as he straightened up. "It's a regal and superior colour."

"It's plain and unpractical. Speaking of, hasn't it crossed you mind that it's also quite easy to spot? You wear your cloaks everywhere: the hunt, the woods, during patrol in the night…"

"It aids us to spot our men."

"Mm, yes, you and everyone else, including your enemies."

Arthur sighed, clearly tired of bickering with her. He looked back down focusing on his papers. "Whatever you say Morgana, you know that it being Pendragon red is exactly the reason why you have no other choice. If you choose so much as another shade of crimson, father will step in and change it anyway. He's really just humouring you with this, so called, planning."

Knowing him to be right in this case, Morgana nodded to the merchant who immediately went to measure out the fabric, ordered annually.

Once again Arthur's clueless insensitivity voiced every doubt she's been hiding within herself. Her life was meaningless; her hand in marriage would no doubt be exchanged for a piece of land. While Gwen, Merlin and Arthur had a list of duties every single day, she wandered around aimlessly about the castle, and while they had dreams she had nightmares. Her council ignored, her wishes humoured like a little girl's.

Gwen knew all this of course and noticed her mistress's internal struggle.

The curly brunette frowned at the prince, now absorbed in a list of provision supplies, gathered by the council chairman. It was a well-known fact at court that the old Baron of Dumnonia doted on Uther's son, always praising the Prince as pride of the nation – a perfect warrior embodied in a handsome figure of a tall and strong young man. Guinevere suspected quite accurately that on the margins of the said report, written down with immaculate handwriting there were deserved and undeserved compliments, offerings of gifts and daughters as brides or mistresses, and no doubt a note postscript about an upcoming hunt. It was offerings such as these that constantly brought out the prince's arrogant side. The noble side that she kept getting short fleeting glimpses of, in Ealdor and just now when he humbly asked and thanked her for some wine, was simply overshadowed by arrogance in moments such as this. Guinevere suspected that Merlin would have to remain Arthur's servant till his dying days, if only just to remind the future king of his oftentimes-conceited ways. She sincerely wished, but doubted, that his future queen would be different – only hoping that the said perspective lady would have a kind and compassionate heart if a somewhat overbearing nature derived from being doubtlessly doted upon while growing up.

"Perhaps, my lady, you could take some of the burgundy for yourself? I could make a dress or a new counterpane for your bed?"

Morgana smiled as she was reminded of when Gwen first came into her service: a short, tiny, skinny little thing with a mass of curls. Then still just a maid in training, it was Morgana's nurse that took care of most of the boudoir procedures, while the little brunette stood humbly in a corner watching and learning. She remembered feeling such joy at acquiring true female companionship, finally. All the courtly ladies were much too old and their daughters lived far away, present only during some pompous ceremony or other.

And so the young lady Morgana finally found a friend in a blacksmith's daughter. Shy at first, Gwen barely spoke up, but within a year the two girls were laughing and playing around the castle, hiding in alcoves so nobody could reprimand and punish them for such inappropriate affinity between a lady and a servant.

Although Gwen had never been one for gossip, in her budding youth Morgana quite liked to dabble in tittle-tattle, secret whispering and spying, and so as a consequence her handmaiden had to follow her around while she spied on others.

On one of such occasions, they were hiding behind alcoves, watching the knights below the windows and eavesdropping on their crude words, when Morgana heard giggling followed by a familiar voice. She sneaked a peek from behind the column and saw no other than Annoying Arthur the Arse as she preferred to call him, and a somewhat older lady leaning across the stone wall. By now the prince was already seventeen, his voice deep, his figure already resembling that of a man, and so clearly Morgana realized that she was correct in assuming that the boy was no longer innocent. As she saw him smirking at the woman five years his senior for sure, her suspicions were confirmed.

"I'm so glad sir Owen has been knighted, he is young, but is clearly a sup–" the little maid noticed that her mistress was no longer paying attention to the knights below. "Morgana?"

"Schh!" Snatching Gwen's hand she pulled her closer to the column so her friend could witness the inappropriate behaviour of the blonde heir to the throne, whom she always seemed to blush around.

No words of exclamation, only a gasp and widened eyes as she observed the king's son in a lip-lock with the red-headed lady.

"See, I told you that spying has its uses."

"But my lady, ain't that Baron Howard's bride?"

Morgana nodded, now watching as the twit pulled Arthur in the direction of her chambers.

"But the wedding is in seven days?"

"No worries Gwen, all things considered, I doubt Arthur's the one to take her virtue. That ship has sailed long ago more likely." Turning around she saw her till then clueless younger friend with her gaze focusing on the stone tiled floor. "Oh come now, don't judge Arthur too harshly, he's neither better nor worse than any other knight."

She frowned. "Any other knight?"

"I'm afraid so. You're thirteen, it's about time ye can finally witness for ye'self that there's nothing to marvel at … Other than crude arrogance and a complete lack of respect for anyone and everyone, noble or common."

Despite this interlude of unfortunate circumstances and the judgmental looks that both of them had been giving Arthur for the past four years, unlike herself Guinevere never lost her youthful hope and faith in better days, better men and a maturing leader of the people of Camelot.

"I don't believe that's true for everyone, my lady", were her words.

This unyielding faith in Arthur's future abilities was quite annoying, but such was Gwen's nature she supposed. She often wondered as to her friend's choice in dire circumstances, where her loyalties would lie in a choice between loyalty to friendship or duty.

"You are right Gwen." Morgana pointed at the burgundy scroll and then at the violet one. "Please cut some of that violet muslin too." Picking up a small cut piece of the fabric she examined it next to Gwen's caramel skin. "I think it will look quite good on you."

"My lady", Gwen whispered, clearly uncomfortable by such generosity especially in presence of the prince. She doubted Merlin received such gifts.

"Cut enough fabric for a dress and a full length skirt please."

"No–"

"I will not hear of it Gwen. Your hands are magical…" Gwen's eyes widened, once again glancing apprehensively at the now attentive prince.

"Really Morgana? Perhaps a more thought-through choice words?"

Ignoring her almost sibling the lady rolled her eyes. "You're one of the best seamstresses in Camelot, and yet every thing you make you give away, whether it is a dress ordered by some lady, or a simple embroidered shirt for a neighbour. The only thing you've ever kept is the dress you're wearing now. This time I want you to do something for yourself, and I expect to see the results before spring."

"Truly–"

"It is an order, Gwen!"

Humbled but stubborn, Guinevere kept glancing around the room, its occupants clearly listening in on their loud discussion. "My lady, I am grateful, but I have all the clothing that I need," nevertheless fingering the offered fabric out of curiosity.

"Then, perhaps you would like to make something special for the butcher's son."

Guinevere dropped the cloth; her doe eyes the size of saucers. "Pardon?"

"Oh, come Gwen! I have heard the rumours."

Blushing the maid looked at the man behind the desk, as he shifted in his chair without glancing up from his papers.

"Never mind Arthur." Approving of the amount of muslin cut by the merchant Morgana whispered conspiratorially: "Tell me. Is it true?"

Shaking her head, Gwen turned around to the table trying to pick up the tray with shaky hands. "My lady, I honestly have no idea why you would think tha–"

Her sleeve caught in Morgana's discarded goblet still half full, and as it bumped into the flagon, all the wine spilled across the table. All over Arthur's reports and trousers.

Jumping out of his seat, Arthur snatched his papers away from the table, managing to save some of the most important ones. Horrified at this mess, Gwen was mortified. Her mouth gaped open at her own clumsiness and she felt like crying, of course she didn't do that in public and most certainly not in front of nobility.

"I-I am so sorry. Please, pardon me, my lord. I'll get this and your clothes cleaned right away," she rambled on distressed, already stepping closer to him as if about to snatch the stained shirt off his back this instant.

"Guine–"

Their confrontation was interrupted by Merlin, who stumbled into the hall with a tray of food in his hands. The boy observed the scene, confused and amused by the sight in front of him.

Arthur resembled a scarecrow with both of his arms stretched out sideways, reports clutched in his hands. Gwen was desperately trying to dry the soaked papers on the table, and Morgana…

Morgana surprised everyone by a fit of uncontrollable laugh, clutching at her side. Gwen looked dejected and Arthur looked offended.

Resolute Guinevere took off her white embroidered apron and dried most of the wine off the table, before she picked up the tray. "I apologize again, sire. I will be back with water and a rag, I'll clean all of this up."

Looking back at her he had barely enough time to pronounce her name: "Guinevere, w–" before the maid took off to the kitchens. His head snapped back to Morgana, who now looked after her maid in confusion. "What's wrong with you?" He looked her up and down and then just shook his head and slumped back in his chair. "I think it's about time you learn how to respect other people's privacy."

"That's like the pot calling the kettle black."

"She clearly didn't want you to bring up her personal life as a topic for conversation."

"That's because she is shy" replied Morgana, contemplating the matter.

Finally Merlin spoke up, for once on Arthur's side in a confrontation between the two nobles about propriety. "Gwen is the most humble and the kindest person I know."

Morgana took a seat without giving notice to his quiet remark. "Well yes of course, that is a given. And her modest nature is most amiable, yet it is obvious she has far too much humility…"

Arthur scoffed from his chair: "'Tis obvious only to such a harridan as yourself, Morgana."

"… while some have far too little of it," the lady finished narrowing her eyes pointedly.

Arthur looked up, still not used to Morgana's unconventional "manners", or rather lack thereof, even after all these years of living under the same roof.

"I heard some maids talking about Gwen's suitor, and I believe it to be a good thing, actually. She's all alone and needs somebody to share her burdens with, she just needs a little push. Surely you agree, Merlin?"

"She's not alone. She has friends." He hesitated, "she's got you, my lady."

"And I cannot imagine being without her support, yet friends will not keep her warm on a rainy night. Won't keep the fire going till she comes home." Morgana smiled softly, "I'm almost glad that she is spending more nights at the castle, even if she gets little sleep, at least I know she's warm and safe by my side."

They exchanged a look of understanding. Both could relate to Gwen's loneliness, both hiding secrets they couldn't share with anybody, not even each other. Each felt a sort of claim on the handmaiden; she was Merlin's first friend in Camelot and Morgana's long-time companion throughout the torturous years spent within the citadel.

"You scream in the middle of the night and set the entire castle in chaos with errands run for you. That's not my definition of shelter," Arthur stood up reminding them of his presence, "and I doubt Guinevere has time to sit by the hearth, what with running between your and Gaius' chambers all night."

Merlin knew this, seeing as he was present all the times that Gwen's knocked on their door hours before dawn, her alert attitude indicating that she's been up all night. He was worried that one of these days Gwen's exhaustion would give ways and she would trip and fall in the middle of the stairs. It was a mystery to him where she got her stellar endurance.

Meanwhile, feeling guilty Morgana refrained from arguing back. She knew that Arthur spoke the truth, and was only mildly surprised that he had spoken up on her maid's behalf.

The prince stood up with the remaining papers in hand and decided to take his leave. He paused by the guards and turned to Merlin, following closely behind his master.

"You can assure Guinevere that she is not at fault. And that no punishment will follow." It was thus implied that Merlin was to remain in the hall room and help the two servants now busy cleaning up the sticky mess on the table.

Morgana was surprised at Arthur's sudden display of righteousness, as far back as she could remember he never paid much attention to Gwen, thank the Spirits, and all of a sudden he was lecturing her about Gwen's well-being.

"She deserves better than just settling, Morgana." Her head snapped up at Arthur's addressing her. "We all do." The prince added with a compassionate nod before he finally left the room.

Once again the daughter of Gorlois had to reassess Uther's son and heir. She has always known him to be a better man than his father, but in her eyes his faults were still too many. Perhaps with age and experience these flaws abated.

In that moment she felt quite proud of him; felt as if he truly was her brother. Yet at the same time, this novel amity between him and Gwen made her feel uneasy.

She didn't like it.

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AN: So sorry for the long wait.

There will be a total of 10 chapters.

The story will be completed during autumn.

I want to dedicate special thanks to Kohimoana for her continuing support and interest in this story. And of course Cherrytree007, Farie Insignias, LilyEvansPotter456, dreamland4, PoisoningPigeonsinthedPark (love your username!), Jules, lovechild92, Lara Smith, itsamagicthing, MsNini, IamPawya, 1989Stargirl, ellabellamj, nessav123, lily forever, sally, Babybee1, NotSoSuperGirl, Nytie, karigan, Estel, Iris, robertlover, AngelBradley . now, Merlin Love92, Jena, Lisa, Natters, SamsSmiles247, Lady Atash, reader 109, Danny, Geniegal.

Thank you everyone.

As usual, let me know what you think …