The first time Morgana met Willow, the girl threw her off a cliff. The black-haired, black-eyed girl attacked the second she saw the sorceress. Morgana had felt the incredible power radiating off her, of course, but she had wanted to talk, to see if the girl could be an ally in her fight against Arthur. The girl had her flying through the air in an instant; Morgana had barely been able to utter the incantation that vanished herself in a swirl of smoke before she passed out.

Morgana refused to faint, as it would have left her dependent on Agravaine, of all people.

Back in the dubious comfort of her hovel, she had healed herself and brooded (Morgana was very good at brooding). The girl was a mystery, and Morgana had always loved mysteries. This girl was powerful and hostile and hadn't seemed to know who she was, only that she was a threat. If she really thought about it, the girl had seemed wrong; her energy was scattered and confused, and her clothes were strange, not the sort of thing a girl should be wearing. What kind of girl wore pants? (Morgana was secretly more appalled by this than by the fact the girl had nearly killed her.)

The second time Morgana met Willow, the girl threw her through a wall. In all fairness, Morgana wasn't expecting her. Three failed plots and a leak in the roof of her hovel later, Morgana wasn't worried about one girl, no matter how powerful. The strange black-haired girl had slipped her mind a week ago, although for some reason her hair wasn't black this time. It was a startlingly brilliant red, one that Morgana was forced to admit was beautiful. The sorceress was in the middle of buying the necessary items to carry out her latest scheme, one she thought was quite clever. (It involved giant spiders, enchanted silk, and itching powder in Arthur's clothes. Morgana sometimes thought her plans had degenerated after the loss of her sister.)

Browsing the market and conversing with unsuspecting villagers from under her hood, Morgana only barely registered the tingle of power at the edge of her mind before she was airborne. A quick charm negated the force of the impact, but she'd gotten stone dust all over her robes. Hovel or no, Morgana was still a noblewoman, and as such, she would not stand for dirty clothes. She had spun and attacked the girl with knife and spell, slicing her cheek open before finding herself flying once again. Growling, she glared at the girl and transported herself back to her hovel, determined to be ready if she ever saw her again. She cheered herself up by yelling at Agravaine. She almost felt normal by the third time she made him cry.

The third time Morgana met Willow, she succeeded in beating her. Their last meeting had spurred Morgana into perusing the magic books she had in her hovel, desperate for a way to win. Inspired by her sister, she enchanted a bracelet. (Not the most original idea, true, but Morgana had loved Morgause, and Morgause had loved enchanting jewelry.) The bracelet served the dual purpose of allowing her to summon the hounds of Avalon with a word, and looking very beautiful on her wrist. Morgana felt it complimented the ribbon she had woven through her hair quite nicely. Fortunately for Morgana, it was only a few days after their last encounter that she ran into the girl again. She was still alert for the feel of her power, and was subsequently prepared.

As soon as the girl had finished flinging her into inanimate objects (as she seemed so delighted to do), Morgana summoned her hounds and commanded them to attack the girl. Even the strongest of witches would have difficulty against Avalon's hounds. The girl threw them into each other, and then into Morgana. The only upside was that they had successfully distracted the girl long enough for Morgana to get behind her and trap her in ensorcelled chains. She seemed determined to fight, though, and landed a punch on Morgana's cheek that would leave an unsightly bruise for days.

Morgana finally reached the limits of her patience and struck the girl over the head with her dagger. The girl only had time to widen her eyes at Morgana before passing out. Morgana saw that she had deep green eyes, and suddenly didn't feel like torturing her so much anymore. She took her back to her hovel and told Agravaine that if he showed up before she summoned him, she would tell Arthur that he had cut a hole in the wall of Arthur's bedchamber and watched him bathe. She enjoyed the sick white he turned, and thought to herself that she'd never seen him run faster. She almost thought he was a wizard.

When she returned inside, she meant to go stir her potions or research ways to torment Arthur or just sit down and brood like she normally did. Instead she found herself drawn to the girl. Without realizing it Morgana had laid her out on her bed, the one true luxury that she had in this dingy shack. Watching her as she slept, Morgana realized that she didn't feel much in the way of animosity towards the girl, even if she had spent more time practicing flight than she would have wished because of the girl. She was pretty, strikingly so. Long crimson hair set off the pale skin underneath, and her body was slim with curves in all the right places.

As soon as Morgana caught herself thinking about her curves she slapped herself, and then slapped herself again just to get the message across. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't go looking for trouble, not after the disaster that Gwen had been. The sting of her betrayal was still fresh, even after more than a year.

All thoughts of Gwen were driven from her mind when the girl stirred, her body stretching languorously, curving sinuously on Morgana's forest green sheets. Morgana let her eyes trace over the beauty beneath her, taking in all that she could. Suddenly the body she was (ogling) observing tensed, stiffening quickly. Morgana flicked her eyes up, meeting startled and fearful greens. She smiled at the girl, trying to calm her before getting attacked for a fourth time. "Vade procul!" The girl thrust her hand out, and Morgana was forced to laugh at the adorably confused expression on her face when nothing happened. "Adjuvo!" Morgana really had to give her credit for trying. "Volabant – oh, fuck this." The girl, apparently giving up on her spellcasting, threw herself at Morgana, seemingly with the intent to pummel her to death despite her lack of magic.

Morgana was quite grateful that she'd thought to bind the girl's powers while she slept, and even more grateful that her own powers were still intact. A whisper of "Gebind," and the strange, ferocious girl was bound in place, unable to harm herself or Morgana. Morgana felt unreasonably sure that if it were possible for looks to kill, she'd be suffering a slow death somewhere very public in a most painful manner. "I don't want to hurt you, you know. I never did. This is all your doing. If you take it into your head to attack every strange sorceress you encounter one of them will undoubtedly take offense as I have done." She could feel a pout forming on her lips despite all of her best efforts. It was irritating. The girl had ruined at least two of her dresses, and she had few to spare nowadays.

The girl blinked, seemingly taken aback by the sight of a professedly offended sorceress pouting at her. To be fair it probably wasn't something seen often, especially not when the viewer was bound in said sorceress' lair, completely at her mercy. "You bitch. What did you do to my powers?" The girl seemed to have missed the 'at her mercy' portion of the scenario, snarling and struggling against Morgana's bonds. The sorceress didn't answer, merely tilted her head in confusion. This girl was strange. Her accent was totally out of place, completely foreign to Morgana. She opened her mouth to ask about it, only to be cut off by the girl. "Where am I, and where the fuck is my magic? Who are you?" Her green eyes locked onto Morgana's grey, challenging her without even needing the words.

Morgana bristled, offended beyond words by this girl and her… crudeness. If she would not respect her as a lady (which she still stubbornly believed she was), then she would respect her powers. "Héafodsár." The girl's eyes widened before she clutched her head and screamed, a bloodcurdling sound ripped straight from her core. Morgana waited, unwilling to deal with more than she absolutely had to. She would show this girl that she was to be feared. After what she felt was an appropriate length of time, she spoke again. "Blódseten." The girl's screams tapered off into an exhausted panting, her hands still weakly clutching her head. She seemed to have lost the energy to more than try to keep her head from exploding, not that Morgana blamed her. That particular spell was quite nasty, as Morgause had shown her on numerous occasions when Morgana had disappointed her. Shaking off the memories, Morgana turned her attention back to the now subdued girl before her. "Are we going to behave ourselves now?" She spoke in honey-sweet tones, menace dripping from each sugared syllable. The girl glanced upwards at her and nodded. Morgana smiled, relieved that she wouldn't have to waste any more time. "Excellent."

The girl collapsed backwards back onto the bed, seemingly worn out from her torture. Morgana sat back down, reclaiming the chair she hadn't even noticed herself vacating. "Now then, girl, what is your name? I cannot go through the days calling you 'witch'. It's rude." The only sound that met her ears was labored breathing, strained beyond that which was typical for a girl of her age. Frowning, Morgana moved up the bed until she was level with the girl's head. She placed her head to the girl's chest and listened, trying to both remember the things Gaius had taught her about healing and detect them in the redhead's body. When nothing caught her attention she sighed and sat up, placing her hands above the girl's body. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard, and spoke softly. "Onwréon ealdorgeardum áwierdnesum segath." As the spell took effect, Morgana gasped. One of the trickiest spells she knew, but also one of the most useful, the incantation translated roughly to 'reveal the hurts of the body to me'. It could seek out all of the ailments a person could be suffering from and show them to the spellcaster. Unfortunately, it was delicate and finicky, and if the caster lost concentration for an instant it wouldn't take effect. Morgana had spent almost a month straight trying to master it; Morgause had insisted she would need it one day. For some reason, she was finding herself rather grateful for her sister's stubbornness.

Random fun from my brain. I found it on my hard drive and my mouth went 'squee!' Then I just had to post it. Reviews - love - more chapters. Do the math.