Camelot is serene in repose; its inhabitants slumber on as the moon drifts down. The imposing walls are as silent as they always have been, and for a little while, there is peace in the citadel.

One hour before sunrise, Arthur Pendragon starts awake from a strange dream, his eyes snapping open. The sights and colors linger in his mind longer than he'd like, full of dark hair and snowy skin, so he soon forgoes sleep and rolls out of bed. Pulling his boots on, he wanders through the deserted halls of his castle. There's a sudden noise, and when he turns he glimpses a figure out a little way away from him.

He walks closer, peering through the semi-darkness. It's a woman- and there's only one woman he'd expect to be taking a walk on the battlements at this ungodly hour.

"Morgana!" Arthur calls, jogging up to her. It's still dark; the first tinges of sunrise have just appeared over the horizon. She turns.

"Arthur. You're up early." He nods at her.

"So are you. Bad dreams?"

Morgana's mouth twitches up wryly. "Depends how you look at it."

Arthur grunts. "Anything I should be worried about?"

One shoulder raises, then drops. "Nothing important."

"But it kept you up."

"It was...disturbing," Morgana admits. "You were in it."

Arthur smirks. "I'm flattered."

Morgana raises an eyebrow. "And you? Why is the High King of all Albion haunting his castle at this hour?"

The dream come into mind again. "Strange dreams." He grunts again. "You were in it."

They fall into a comfortable silence as they watch the darkness beyond. Neither Arthur nor Morgana attempt to talk about their dreams.

They don't know that they've been dreaming the same thing.

1. Arthur

Arthur paces around the antechamber, waiting for Morgana. He's never been this nervous; he's here to apologize for his actions, but of course he would find the most inopportune time to visit her. Of course she would have decided to take a bath right as he was gathering up the courage to talk to her.

Sarah, the maid, rushes in with towels, sees him, and flushes a deep red. She mutters something, and slips into the room Morgana's in. Morgana emerges a little while later, clad in a white slip and robe and her hair wet.

"Arthur, if this isn't important…"

Impulsively -and he's doing that a lot around Morgana, he realizes- he gets down on one knee, taking one of her hands. Morgana stares at him in astonishment- and she's really doing that a lot too around him. He can see the red marks he's made on her forearms, and the sight makes his heart drop. He stutters a little, before finding his voice.

"Morgana...I…"

Morgana's voice is nearly hysterical. "I swear, if you're proposing marriage to me, Arthur…"

Her words take him by surprise, and he looks up at her, then at himself. Oh. This does rather seem like he's proposing...Oh. She's flushing a very bright pink, and his stomach twists funnily at her words. Her tone of voice and her near panic isn't quite pleasant for him, either. The idea couldn't be that repulsive to her.

"And what if I was?" His words come out more petulantly than he intends. He's one foot stomp away from acting an utter child.

Morgana is struck speechless. She opens her mouth and closes it several times, before sitting heavily down on a chair.

"Arthur, I cannot handle this right now. Did you, or did you not, just propose marriage?"

It's Arthur's turn to sink into a chair. "I...I don't know."

"You- you- you just barged into my room, while I was bathing, got down on one knee and for all intents and purposes seemed like you were proposing- and you don't know?" Morgana's voice is higher by an octave at least.

Arthur puts his head into his hands. "Look, Morgana, I'm very much lost right now, I don't even-" he takes a deep breath. "I actually came here to apologize."

Morgana blinks. "So...you weren't proposing or anything?"

Arthur pauses, "Did you want me to be?" He swears that isn't hope lightening his voice.

"I...don't know." There is an awkward silence. Arthur gets up.

"I'd… better be going."

He's just taken a step when Merlin bursts in, aggravated.

"For the sakes of everyone in this castle, will you two just get married already?"

Both Arthur and Morgana freezes, identical looks of confusion on their faces. Morgana stammers, "Why are you even here, Merlin?"

Merlin snorts. "That's not the problem right now. What is a problem is that you two need to get married. Now kiss and make up, and get on with it!"

Arthur stutters, "I don't want to marry her!" at the same time Morgana minces, "What on earth are you talking about?"

Morgana and Merlin turn simultaneously to look at Arthur. He panics.

"No, it's not that I don't want to marry you, I actually really do, it's just-" His brain catches up to his mouth.

Morgana massages her temples. "I'm just going to pretend that you both drank some idiot potion and is temporarily out of it. Now please leave."

Arthur blinks twice, then strides out as fast as he can without losing his dignity. Merlin argues a little more before Morgana throws him out the door with magic. He collides with Arthur, who knocks him to the floor. The door slams behind them.

Merlin blinks up at Arthur, and sighs.

"I'm going to have to clean the stables out again, am I?"

Arthur whacks him. "I'm glad you know it."

2. Morgana

It's the fifth year of the Saxon Wars, and the tide of the war has turned to their favor. The end is near, and anyone now can see that Arthur will triumph.

Anyone, that is, but the Saxons themselves. They march from Cantia's border to Gloucedon, where Cenred and Morgause have set up camp to plan an ambush. Morgana has been in the region, and it has been decided that the most important thing to do is gather information on the remaining threat. Which would be perfectly alright, if she hadn't had to follow them around for three days, living on the road and staring at the telltale clues left behind. Arthur was slowly leading the armies to join Cenred's camp, hoping for a decisive final battle there. He had sent word that he was nearby.

Morgana sighs as she surveys the trail left behind by yet another of their retreating armies. Isolde, a bandit turned warrior, rides up to her.

"Something's not right," the woman says, fiddling with her sword.

Morgana glances at her. "Hmm?"

Isolde jerks her chin at the tracks. "If they were heading to Gloucedon, they'd have prepared their horses better; maybe hidden their tracks. They're not stupid. They'd know that we'd chase after them to locate the best spot for the ambush. This is too easy."

Morgana peers at the tracks. "Or they're desperate."

Isolde shakes her head. "Not so desperate they'd leave such a clear trail. And the supply wagon tracks aren't quite right either."

Another soldier pipes up. "Too light they are. It's a hard ride to Gloucedon, and they'd have packed more for such a journey."

Morgana blinks. "The wagons...are too light?" Realization strikes, and her eyes widen. "It's a trap."

An arrow whizzes past her. It finds its mark in a horse's eye, and the beast slumps to the ground, dead. Morgana pulls out her sword.

Nothing.

Isolde examines the fletching of the shaft. "Saxon."

Morgana squints up at the hill. "Is it a warning shot, or-" Isolde pushes her down. Another arrow flies to where she had been seconds ago. It is followed by a dozen others, peppering the sky with the falling darts.

Morgana presses her lips in a thin line as soldiers around her fall. She raises a hand and tries to invoke a shield large enough to protect the small group of warriors she had brought.

It doesn't work. Isolde calls for them to gather closer, but there is a limit to how big Morgana can make it. A few more fall before everyone is safely under the magic and the Saxons cease their volley of arrows.

Morgana can see Isolde slowly letting out the breath she'd been holding; but then the Saxons swarm down the hill and her own heart sinks lower than her ribcage.

There's too many of them, attacking from all sides. They have been well and truly ambushed; there's no way that can get out. She looks at the men and women around her. All of them are bracing themselves for their final battle.

"It's been a pleasure," Morgana says. "Thank you."

Endise, a sergeant from Cornwall, nods. At that motion, the soldiers surround Morgana. The woman says, "Make it count. All the information- get it to the High King now." She pauses as the Saxons rush at them. "Now!"

Morgana kneels and hurriedly draws the runes for the spell in the dirt. A shimmering mirage comes into being in the thin air. Muttering under her breath, she fumbles out the maps they've made, the numbers they've counted. The mirage clears with a chime, and there's Merlin's face suddenly visible. He's dressed comfortably for the day, just walking out of his tent; he is surprised at the sudden communication portal that's appeared in front of him.

"Morgana," he greets. "I didn't expect-"

"Bring Arthur," she grits out. "Now." At the same time, the clashing of swords suddenly fills the air as the Saxons collide with the small band.

Merlin blinks, then looks past her to the doomed battle. He nods, then runs off.

Morgana's trying hard to keep the mirage up- it's difficult to summon enough power to keep the magical shield up at the same time as the portal. But there aren't any more arrows.

She releases the charm and looks at the mirage in consternation. There is no time to spare, and if Arthur doesn't come soon, it will be too late. She grinds out a spell to summon lightning, anything to buy them time. The mirage flickers and shakes and why didn't she think to anchor the spell somehow. Jagged bolts of electricity strike out in a circle, felling Saxons and raising the smell of burnt flesh. Once again, and the lightning flickers, strikes out. It's weaker, but it still kills. Esden, the brother of the sergeant and a magic user himself, gets the idea and replicates the spell. It keeps them at bay, at least until Esden is killed by a sword to the throat. Endise cries out in rage.

Morgana takes a shuddering breath to start again- but finally Merlin reappears in the mirage and Arthur is there, his brows furrowed in concern. It turns to downright horror when Arthur sees what is happening.

"Morgana, you-"

She cuts him off with a shake of her head, voice urgent even as she drinks his face in. "The numbers of the Saxons have been counted at less than five thousand men remaining, out of the twenty thousand original. They're waiting for the ambush to be set up, then they'll attack the camps settled in. This group's split up, the rest have been confirmed to have gone on." She smiles at him, but it wavers. "We've recorded the rest of the information from the surveillance, and Merlin will get it." She passes the maps and report through the mirage, and they meld into the picture. She tries to imagine that Arthur really is there in front of her, anything to take her mind off the fact that it's really the end. The scrolls of parchment appear in Merlin's hands.

Arthur's face is thunderous. "Where are you, Morgana? We can still get to you in time. Just-"

"It's on the map. Three hours down the stream. Too far." She shakes her head. "This is goodbye."

Arthur's pained face suddenly blurs, and Morgana can't do this to herself. She raises a hand to his face, then clenches it into a fist, dissolving the mirage. She gets to her feet, reciting the lightning spell over and over, even as it makes her lightheaded.

She won't give them the satisfaction of an easy battle.

An indeterminable time passes, but the Saxon warriors keep on coming and her men keep falling. She's spitting out any attack spells she knows now, and trying to fight with her sword at the same time. The overuse of magic is making her dizzy, but she can't stop now. Even if the world is losing focus…

A sharp, white hot pain passes through her light chainmail, jolting the world back into painfully clear focus. She knows instinctively that it's hit some major organs; it's going to be a painful death either way. Isolde tries to make her way to her; miraculously, the woman is unharmed save a few glancing scratches. Morgana repeats the lightning spell again and again; it's a mantra now, the only thing keeping her mind off the pain. In the distance, she swears she can hear Arthur's voice.

Except she really can, because he's here. In a thundering of horse hooves, the High King's knights come charging in. The Saxons freeze; they're torn between finishing off the rest of the reconnaissance mission and saving themselves, and it's too late to run by the time they make their choice.

The Camelot knights and the legion of soldiers they bring, slaughter the relatively fewer Saxons. By the time it's over, the valley is filled with corpses and the burnt flesh smell is strong as ever. Morgana drops her sword, and it clatters at her feet. She can hardly hear it. She does see Tristan leaps off his horse and run to embrace Isolde, and distantly regrets that she's not going to be able to see them married.

Arthur tosses his helmet away and dismounts. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, and his blue eyes are cold with anger. He walks slowly to her, and her focus on his face doesn't waver even if the world is tilting just a little bit-

His arms are steady as he catches her and gently brings her down to sit.

She whispers, "Arthur," and there's really nothing else she can say because she's seeing him again and she hadn't dared to hope for that.

Arthur's kneeling by her side, and he's not letting her go. And it feels safe like nothing has ever done before. His face is blurring again, and she blinks away the tears because she's not going to waste the little time she has left crying.

Even Arthur- Arthur who raced to get the all-cure from the deadly maze in the aftermath of Nimue for her- doesn't question that she is dying. He traces her jaw, gritting his teeth.

Morgana sighs, "I'm glad you're here." It's not going to be long now.

"Morgana, I…" Arthur seems to swallow something as he holds her tighter. He pauses, and when he does speak his voice is a whisper.

"Marry me."

And the world really is going blurry, and she can't stop the tears now. Because it's a confirmation of everything she's hoped and a regret that she'll never live to let it grow. Her breaths grow shallow, but she forces herself to focus on his face as she whispers to him.

"Yes."

It's the last thing she ever says.

When she wakes up with a shuddering gasp, the sweetness of his last kiss lingers on her lips.

3. Arthur

Merlin whispers "she's in the garden" and suddenly he can't breathe. He looks out the window to where the sorcerer is pointing. Morgana's there alone, sitting on a stone bench. There's a small book in her hands and she's completely unaware of anyone looking at her. Her hair is down today, and she's dressed in that simple green dress that she wears only when it's safe and she feels like being just Morgana.

Arthur swallows thickly, before fumbling with the box he's been clutching in his hands. "Should I?"

Merlin nods and pats his shoulder before giving him a shove. "I thought Arthur Pendragon never got scared. She's not going to bite, you know. It's Morgana."

Arthur nods. Leaving Merlin behind, he walks down the steps to the small inner garden. It's a sunny day, and Morgana doesn't fail to notice the shadow he casts over her book.

She looks up. "Arthur." Her tone is pleasant, but there's something sorrowful in her eyes that's been there since a while back. He wonders how he never managed to notice that her smiles didn't reach her eyes anymore. She closes her book, keeping place with a finger.

Arthur sits down next to her. Still fiddling with the box hidden in his jacket pocket, he tries to begin a conversation.

"I haven't seen you around."

Morgana lets out a breath. "I've been busy, of sorts."

"I hope Cornwall's not facing any problems," Arthur blurts out.

Morgana's lips twitch. "Cornwall is safe for now."

They're empty words, devoid of all the liveliness and banter that he's accustomed to receiving from her. Something's wrong, and he doesn't want to keep up this charade.

He takes her hand. "Morgana." She glances at him, and then lowers her gaze. He brings out the box, and wraps her fingers around it.

"I...was hoping you would agree to be my betrothed."

Morgana looks at him again. She's not smiling. He forges on anyways.

"I… I think maybe I've been in love with you for a long time now. I can't imagine...marrying anyone else. I want you to be mine." Morgana doesn't look up. He gently tilts her face up. "Marry me, Morgana."

She turns her face away and gently places the box in Arthur's hand. "I...can't."

It's like a punch to the stomach. "I…"

She starts to cry, and that hurts him more. "Morgana, it's alright if you don't...want to marry me. I understand if you don't…"

Morgana angrily wipes her tears away. "No. Of course I want to marry you. How could I not?" She smiles through the tears. "If only you could have told me."

The warm feeling that rises to his chest at her words suddenly makes his stomach twist. "Then why, Morgana?"

"I…" She sniffles. "I'm sorry. It's just that…" Another sob. "I just…"

He embraces her. She stiffens, then sinks into it, sobbing into his shoulder. They sit on the bench for a while, holding each other.

When her sobs quiet a little, Morgana straightens up. Her voice is firmer, less wavery. She's trying to force herself into being Princess Morgana, all steel and elegance, and that's what he's most concerned about.

"About a month ago, I was sent to negotiate the treaty with the Welsh people," she starts. "You remember."

He does. The conflict between the Welsh and the kingdoms under his high kingship was one major obstacle to peace in Albion; he had sent Morgana to try to forge a lasting peace contract with them. She had returned two weeks later, an absolute peace treaty in one hand and gifts from the Welsh in the other. The feat was surprising, but Morgana had refused to divulge how she had done it. She had been honored with a grand feast for her role, and Arthur had paid little attention afterwards.

Morgana smiles shakily. "They weren't ready to discuss peace terms at all. In fact, they had already sent a number of their tribes to infiltrate Camelot and attack at signal." A shoulder raises and drops. "I had little choice. The high chieftain- they were organized in high chieftainships- agreed to call it off and have peace on the condition that I marry him. I guess he liked what he saw."

Arthur's hands are shaking. "You didn't…"

"I said yes. It was better than the alternative."

Anger chokes his throat. "You didn't have to do that- you didn't even have the authority. You can't- you can't forge peace on such a contract. It's like selling you for it."

A spark lights in her eyes. "What would you have me done, then? Am I supposed to have said, no thank you, go ahead and murder everybody in Camelot?" Her voice is savage. "At least appreciate what I'm doing for Albion."

Arthur deflates. He can't argue with her. Casting his eyes down, he notices a ring on her finger. "Is that-?"

She hides it quickly. "Yes." Looking at him wryly, she says, "He's younger than you think. Handsome, too. I wouldn't worry about me."

Arthur looks away. She smiles bitterly. "Your infatuation with me will pass. That's all it is. When you're old and married to some other woman, you'll think of me and laugh at the follies of your youth."

His fists clench. He wants so badly to hit something, but he can't do that here. "Would you...have said yes?"

Morgana is surprised. "What?"

"Would you have said yes...if you weren't already betrothed?"

Her face falls just a fraction. "I…"

"Because I meant it. You're the woman I want, and I'm not letting you-"

She stands up abruptly. "Forget it, Arthur." She curtseys briefly then stalks away. He stares at the book she's left behind.

In a land of myths, and a time of magic…

She asks to be excused from court the next day, to be allowed to prepare for her wedding.

He lets her.

His hands are still shaking when he wakes up.

4. Morgana

There's a headache coming on, sure as cabbages- Morgana can feel it. Staring down at the once- dignified high king, currently on one knee and holding out an extravagant ring to her, she resists the urge to massage her temples. And she was having such a good day, too.

Arthur had been tossed into her rooms by Merlin approximately fifteen minutes ago, serenading everything from her toes to the fine wrinkles around her eyes when she smiles. If he was being a prat, Morgana would understand. But this lovesick-foolishness was beyond comprehension. Merlin had shut the door immediately behind Arthur and ran off- and she had been forced to listen to Arthur since then. About three minutes ago, he had proposed marriage.

And about then, Morgana realized he was under a spell, as opposed to just completely drunk. In her defense, it was rather hard to tell between the two when it came to Arthur, that time with the cabbages and Merlin's neckerchief had been pretty far-fetched, and that had been definitely alcohol.

Probably thinking she had not heard his extremely loud request, Arthur repeats, "Will you marry me, Morgana?"

She actually does massage her temples this time, trying to figure out what to do. Maybe she had some spell-breaking talisman somewhere. It was best to humor him at the moment; he wouldn't remember anything when he came back to normal.

"Sure, sure I'll marry you." His blue eyes- and since when did they resemble puppy eyes so much- look up at her.

"Really?" A grin breaks out over his face. "That's great. We'll have seven children, and they'll run around the castle, and you can teach them magic and I'll train them swordsmanship. When should we have the wedding?"

She slowly edges away from him and pretends to be seriously considering it as she surreptitiously rummages through her drawer for anything that might help. "I like June weddings."

"But that's six months from now! I want it faster." He's got a stubborn look on his face, and she sighs. This is going to be harder than she expected. "Didn't know you were so keen on getting wed."

"Well, it's to you, isn't it? The woman I love. Why shouldn't I be?" His tone is matter-of-fact, and she swears that her heart would be melting- if he wasn't under the influence of a love potion and currently kneeling at her feet with a ridiculous expression on his face.

"That's...sweet, Arthur. I'm flattered." She gives up on finding anything useful to counteract the spell-and why did she even expect that she'd find anything in her drawer of all places she doesn't know-and looks at him. That goofy smile is on his face again. She huffs, and does the only other thing she can think of- she whispers a spell and sends a vase flying at his head.

He's knocked unconscious immediately. As soon as he is out, she calls Merlin.

"Get over here, Merlin! Stop hovering outside!"

He cautiously walks in, glancing around for Arthur. When he finally sees the king sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, he only raises an eyebrow. "Please tell me you didn't kill him."

Morgana flushes. "Yes! I mean, no. What did you expect, throwing him into my room and telling me to deal with him?"

Merlin looks askew at the body. "Not a murder scene."

She huffs in annoyance. "It isn't. You probably heard everything, anyways."

A smirk forms on Merlin's face. "June wedding, huh?"

Morgana ignores him. "Please tell me you know how to break the spell."

Merlin nods, suddenly serious. "According to Gaius's book, it requires a kiss from his true love."

Morgana gapes. "You're jesting."

"Actually, I am," Merlin grins, "the spell just makes the target's romantic feelings for someone multiply tenfold. If he's that determined for your love and affection, it can't be that hard for him to get a kiss- which means the potion would be pretty much useless. Nope, it just wears off in an hour."

Morgana blinks. "So...we wait? Why would anyone even bother slipping Arthur the potion if it lasts an hour?"

Merlin's grin widens. "I did tell you it amplifies his feelings, not make them suddenly appear. See, you two are destined for each other."

"I…" Realization dawns. "You gave it to him on purpose!"

Merlin runs out and slams the door behind him before Morgana can throttle him. Through the wooden door, he shouts, "I expect to be best man at the wedding!"

Morgana groans and pokes at Arthur's prone body with her foot.

5. Arthur

It's over.

There's nothing left to fight, Arthur thinks blankly as he stares up at the columns of smoke wafting up to the heavens. There's nothing left to kill. The last of the Saxon ships are burning.

It's a complete victory. It's a victory with more than forty thousand dead and a hundred thousand wounded. The funeral dirge fills the air. The Saxon king is dead, his generals capitulated, and today, Arthur proclaims his victory to all Albion. And here, at the final battlefield, he is numb. The last battle has taken a toll, and the adrenaline that flooded his veins has faded away.

On this charred, razed field, Arthur watches the aftermath of the battle. So many dead, and so many lost.

The Pendragon standard is raised high.

Footsteps approach him from behind. He turns around to see Morgana, face grimy with sweat and soot, walking to him slowly as if it's a dream. Her hair, spelled as it always is for battle, hangs down her back, framing her haggard face.

She's beautiful.

She meets his eyes, and a slow smile spreads on her face. She quickens her pace, and he walks forward to receive her. Instead of slowing down, though, she keeps running until she's flinging herself into his arms. He automatically wraps his arms around her, and she leans against his chest.

"We won," she whispers, "we won."

He's bone-weary right now, his mind blank, but he's unbelievably happy in this moment as he holds her. And then it sinks in.

"We've won." The words are almost a prayer. She smiles up at him. "Yes."

Suddenly, it's like everything's been lifted from his shoulders, and he's lighter than he's ever been. They've won, and Albion is safe in its unity. He slowly lets Morgana go and takes her hand.

"I want you to be my queen."

Morgana looks up at him, startled. He cups her cheek with one hand, not letting go of her hands. "I want you to be my wife."

She stares at him for a little longer. Just when he is starting to worry, she flings her arms around him again.

"Yes," She whispers, "yes."

Arthur steps back, and his lips finds hers. It's not their first kiss, but it's new and raw and electrifying. They stand there intertwined, in the midst of the battlefield.

It's a new beginning, forged in the ashes of the old.

When Arthur wakes up, he's still filled with that hope for days to come.

+1: Somethings are better than dreams.

"Well?"

Morgana whips around to face Arthur. "Is this-"

"For you. As the first lady of Albion, you ought to have decent quarters."

Morgana rolls her eyes. "Of course the entire tower you assigned me to wasn't good enough. Nothing but the Queen's chambers would do for someone who performs little more than the ceremonial duties."

Arthur grins. "Anything for you, my lady." He turns a little more serious. "I've had the door joining the Queen's chambers to the King's all filled up. If being assigned there makes you uncomfortable…"

Morgana shakes her head. "I'd be honored." She looks around a little, her face bathed in the glow of midmorning sun. "You do realize this is going to be such a headache for you when you get married?"

"How so?" Arthur raises an eyebrow.

"You're going to have to assign me out of these chambers, and then somehow find a way to transfer the title of First Lady to your wife without offending me, get that door fixed…"

Arthur grins. "I guess I'll just have to marry you then."

Morgana whacks him, and he laughs. When they've both stopped, he holds out a hand.

"Well, my lady, shall we go?"

"If you wish, my lord."

Hello everybody! I bet you didn't expect me back, but here I am! This was inspired by Kreuse, who in her review said "Just wondering how Morgana would have reacted if Arthur had huffed, "What if it was?" before leaving her alone." And a plot bunny came and throttled me. I'm so sorry about the totally mangled romance bits and the OOCness of it all- I just really wanted to do something fluffy and make them be happy. I don't think it turned out well. (I'm a high schooler with no experience of romance at all is my excuse!) In case it was confusing, which I'm sure it was because I got confused halfway through, parts 1~5 were dreams by Morgana and Arthur; the first and last bits are reality.

I hope you enjoyed reading- and here's the part where I beg for reviews. Please?

Thanks a lot,

Estele