This is a longer chapter, and things are finally moving. Hope you enjoy.

Part XIV

The way to Fereth was a one long, taking them through forests and across wide plains. Morgana had never made the journey before, so Gwaine took the lead. She suspected Arthur had chosen only the knights who were most friendly to her, as not one of them seemed the least bit hostile. On the contrary, all seven spoke respectfully to her – except, of course, for Gwaine, who was as wonderfully rude as she expected him to be. They went peacefully enough, stopped by no one except a bad-tempered farmer who accused them of trampling his crops, but was silenced by a small amount of silver.

"We're almost there," Gwaine said over his shoulder. They were in a rocky outcrop leading up a long slope, but in the distance Morgana could see the faint outline of a walled city. The horses grew uneasy, however, as the loose stones shifted under their hooves. One of the knights' horses slipped and gave a whinny of fright which sent Morgana's into a nervous jolt which nearly unseated her.

Suddenly, there was more than just loose stones clattering down the hill. Morgana gave a shout of alarm as suddenly sharp little stones began to fly at her and the knights, who were having great difficulty keeping their horses under control in the onslaught.

Morgana shielded her face with her arm and tried to make out their attackers, fearing it might be the Wiersa catching up with them already. But she spotted the bright black and blue livery of Ceawlin's kingdom and realised the group of soldiers were just royal cavalry, and felt some relief. Men, she could handle. She narrowed her eyes as they blazed gold, and suddenly the stones under their attackers' horses started to shift and shake, distracting them from their task of embedding rocks in the knights' horses and sending some of them sprawling from the saddle. They scrambled for their swords, so she pressed on.

"Stop," she said loudly, urging her horse up the hill so she could confront the men head on. The men on the ground seemed startled to see her, gawping up at her, while the two soldiers who remained in the saddle looked at her with suspicion. "What fools are you to attack before you know your target?" she said coolly. "I am the Lady Morgana, ambassador of Camelot. I have come for an audience with King Ceawlin."

"I apologise, my lady," said one of the mounted soldiers, who looked to be the leader, narrowing his small eyes. "But we do not usually admit the colours of Camelot in this land. But your reputation precedes you. If you are here representing Camelot, I am sure my liege will be eager to hear what you have to say," he said silkily. "Ornlu, ride ahead and inform our king that we have the Lady Morgana representing Camelot in our company," Morgana looked at him disdainfully, and urged her horse forwards, the knights following behind her. She glanced back at them. Their horses' chests were flecked with blood and one of the knights had a cut under his eye, but none was in danger.

"Allow us to escort you, my lady," said Ceawlin's commander, smiling nastily. His men slotted in between the knights, separating them, and Ceawlin rode uncomfortably close to Morgana's shoulder. She ignored him icily, and focused on the city ahead.

They entered the city of Fereth slowly, and it was a strange place. Everywhere she looked Morgana saw hallmarks of a magical city. There were stalls openly selling talismans and charms, and some of the roots and powders in the herbalist's stall could only be magical ingredients. One small thatched hut advertised a magical healing service inside. No one batted an eyelid as they passed. She could not help feeling an appreciation for this hybrid kingdom, which apparently had achieved what Camelot could not.

They trotted to the castle, where the great iron gate was slowly elevated for them, and once inside Morgana and the knights allowed their horses to be led away while the small-eyed commander, still smirking unpleasantly, led them through the great doorway of the castle.

"His Highness King Ceawlin awaits you, my lady," he said, gesturing at what had to be the throne room. Morgana shot him a disdainful glance, and head high, she walked through the door which two guards held open for her.

Inside was an enormous, long, grand throne room which certainly rivalled Arthur's. The high ceiling was full of beautiful carved symbols and figures, and six magnificent enchanted chandeliers lit the room warmly. There were ornate tables at the edges of the room, each set with baskets piled high with lush fruits and breads. At the end of the room was a spectacular throne with wide gold-studded arms and twin wolves carved into the ends.

In the throne was seated a man to make Percival seem small.

King Ceawlin was a huge great figure of a man, his limbs seeming to Morgana like small tree trunks. He was of the same age as Uther, his battle-scarred face now grey and grizzled. He looked fierce, extremely blue eyes peering out from under his thick eyebrows. A rich gold crown encircled his head, studded with a large blue jewel.

"Well, well," he said in a growling voice. "The Lady Morgana. I haven't seen you since you were but a slip of a girl," he said, focusing on her intently. "You have grown very beautiful."

Morgana paused some distance away from Ceawlin's throne and curtsied slowly.

"Your Highness," she said steadily. "I am honoured to be in your presence once more."

Ceawlin let out a rumble of a laugh. "Well, I must say, I am curious to know why you are in my presence once more. I thought Uther made it quite clear to me before he died that our kingdoms were to travel quite separate paths."

Morgana's eyes darkened. "I'm sure my views on Uther's rule have not gone unnoticed by you, Your Highness," she said. Ceawlin smiled slightly.

"Yes, the mystery deepens. Why are you representing a House you are famed for despising? Surely the boy-king hasn't abandoned his father's legacy?"

Morgana paused. "I believe Arthur Pendragon to be a better man than his father," she said cautiously. "But no. He has not."

"Then you are no friend to Fereth. We live in harmony between magical and non-magical. I have found it much to my benefit to retain sorcerers in my employ. Why should you endanger your life by representing a kingdom with such a disgusting reputation for bloodshed?" Ceawlin said bluntly.

"Because every kingdom is in danger from a greater threat," Morgana said, her pulse quickening at Ceawlin's harsh words. "I returned to Camelot out of dire need."

"What threat is this?"

"A group of dark sorcerers has risen and is conquering all the southern lands as we speak. They call themselves the Wiersa."

"Well, then," Ceawlin said, scratching his stubbly chin. "Well. Perhaps it will be justice to see Camelot fall to sorcerers!"

"They won't stop at Camelot," Morgana said darkly. "I have seen them. I travelled with them a while. I thought I could use them, and control them. But I could not. They destroy all that lies in their path, and they won't spare you because you have magic here,"

"Bold words," Ceawlin said, seemingly unaffected. "Why should I believe you aren't just trying to save Camelot at the expense of my men?"

Morgana pursed her lips. "I give you my word. But if you don't believe me, it'll be obvious to you soon enough. Only then it might be too late."

Ceawlin studied her up and down, and she did her best not to recoil from his blatant stare.

"So it is an alliance you seek?"

"Yes."

A long pause elapsed, Ceawlin evidently thinking.

"I will consider what you have said," he said at last. "In the meantime, please enjoy my hospitality," he said. "Perhaps view the city. I think it might be to your liking," he said. Morgana dipped her head and curtsied.

"Thank you, Your Highness," she said, and she retreated from the room. Outside, Gwaine was waiting anxiously. He had not been allowed in, and was looking tense and irritable.

"There you are," he said, brightening slightly when he saw her. "This place gives me the creeps," he said, glancing at one of the guards who was staring sourly at him without blinking even once. "What did he say?"

"He's thinking about it," Morgana said. "He said we could visit the city."

"I'm not sure I want to," Gwaine said nervously. "I saw someone turning a dead pig inside out on the way here."

"Don't be a baby," Morgana said, rolling her eyes. She seized his elbow and marched him out the way they came and breathed deeply when they reached the open air.

"I like it here," she said, enjoying the scent of fresh air mixed with some distantly-bubbling herbal remedy.

"I thought you might," Gwaine muttered. "I'm starving, can we get food here? Is it illegal if I eat magic food? Don't tell Arthur," he mused.

"Don't be ridiculous. Food is food," she said, glaring at him. Exploring the city, thoughts of Ceawlin actually faded from her mind, and she found herself engrossed in the vibrant lifestyle of Fereth. She never noticed the grizzled king watching her from a high window in his castle.

Part XV

Some hours later, Morgana found herself once again waiting for the guards to open the doors to the throne room. She had enjoyed her time with Gwaine in the city, but a bubbling pit of nervousness had settled in her stomach as she made the long walk to Ceawlin's throne once more.

"Your Highness," she said, curtseying. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"I have considered what you have told me, Morgana. And I have come to a proposal that I think will suit us all."

Morgana waited anxiously.

"I will ally with Camelot against this enemy of which you speak," he said. Morgana's hopes soared.

"To symbolise this alliance, I require an oath in return from a daughter of Camelot," he said cryptically. He gestured to one side. A guard opened a door, and a young man stepped out. He was tall and slender, his dark hair smoothed to one side. A silver circlet rested on his forehead.

"My son, Prince Samer." The young man bowed to Morgana. Suddenly, she felt an unwinding dread at where this was going.

"I will ally with Camelot in return for your betrothal to my son," he said. "A better match for him I could not hope to find elsewhere."

Morgana opened her mouth wordlessly. She shook her head slightly.

"I.. I am not a daughter of Camelot," she struggled to form coherent words. "I'm not a princess."

"You are of noble birth. You are a High Priestess of the Old Ways," Ceawlin reasoned. "You are magical. You are powerful. You would do this kingdom a great honour by passing on those powers to its future kings."

Morgana glanced at Samer, who had not said a word. She tried to read his expression, find something in it that would get her out of this, but she found nothing but blankness. She closed her eyes.

"I…" she broke off. "I must take this proposal to King Arthur," she said, her tone gaining defiance as she forcefully recomposed herself.

"Why?" Ceawlin said, sounding surprised. "These terms are but a trifle of what they might have been. I could have demanded every coin in the land with King Arthur's face on it, along with years of tribute. But all I ask is one woman's hand! You are not his sister, or his daughter. Your marriage won't gain him anything elsewhere. I fail to see how any king wouldn't jump at such terms. As far as I can see, this decision is yours alone,"

Morgana gritted her teeth. Ceawlin had her back against the wall. She shook her head shortly. "I accept your terms," she said coldly.

Ceawlin smiled broadly. "A wise decision."

Part XVI

She refused to tell Gwaine a thing while the other knights were gathered. She merely told them she had secured the alliance, and kept silent after that. He knew something was wrong, though, and he cornered her as they were about to mount their horses to leave the next morning.

"What happened in there?" he demanded. "I know he didn't just turn around and say "oh yes, I'd love to kiss King Arthur's backside", so what did he do? Do we really have an alliance?"

"We have an alliance," Morgana confirmed heavily. "A conditional one."

"Conditional on what?"

She looked over at him gloomily, then placed her foot in the stirrup.

"My marriage," she said at last, and before he could say anything else she kicked her horse on, not bothering to wait for the others before she hastened out of Fereth.

Gwaine caught her up a few minutes later though, and his face was one of goggling horror.

"To Ceawlin?" he all but shouted. "That disgusting, slimy, creepy bastard, he's old enough to be your father-"

"No, not Ceawlin," Morgana cut him off irritably. "His son. Samer."

"Oh." Gwaine shut up for a moment. "That's- what are you going to do?"

Morgana looked unhappy. "What can I do? I have to marry him."

"But you can't!" Gwaine said, horrified. "What about…"

"What about what?" Morgana snapped.

"Not what, who, and you know exactly who."

"I'm doing this for him," Morgana said, giving up the pretence. "Arthur will have to cope with it. It's for his own god-damned kingdom, and if he weren't such a fool as to allow this rift with Ceawlin to go on so long, I wouldn't have to do it," she snarled.

Gwaine's eyebrows knotted together, and he looked down at his reins. He shook his head. "It's not right," he said sadly, and Morgana felt a stab of irritation.

"When has anything in my life been right?" she said. To this, Gwaine had no reply, and they carried on in silence. They spoke few words as the journey stretched out, and before long Gwaine dropped back to talk to the other knights, leaving Morgana to her thoughts and silence.

At Camelot, she felt exhausted. She kept her mask of impassivity in place as the stable hands took her horse and helped her from the saddle, but the moment she dreaded was fast approaching.

Arthur came hurrying down the steps moments after her feet hit the ground, his quizzical face soon inches from hers.

"What happened?" he demanded, forcing her to lock eyes with him. She forced herself to smile.

"I did what I said," she said strongly. "I got the alliance."

Delight filled Arthur's face. "You did? God- you must have been fantastic- I mean, not that it's a surprise. Of course you won, you always get what you want!" he looked jubilant, and turned around triumphantly to Merlin who was standing awkwardly to one side. Morgana caught his eye briefly, and felt unsettled at the searching look the boy gave her. She never liked how perceptive he could be.

She could feel Gwaine's eyes on her as she tried to skirt around Arthur, but she ignored him. Arthur, however, spotted her and caught her arm.

"Hang on! Where are you going? We should be celebrating, this is a huge win for Camelot-" he broke off, catching the look on her face before she could school it into one of excitement. "What happened?" he asked, suddenly growing grave. "There's a catch, isn't there? What did he demand?"

Morgana shook her head and smiled an unhappy smile. "Something he couldn't see as being valuable to you at all," she said softly. "He thought he was offering you quite the deal."

"Morgana. Tell me."

She forced herself to look him in the eyes. "He wants me."

It took a few moments for the meaning of this to sink in. The colour drained from Arthur's face and she could almost feel the fury rising in him.

"No."

"Arthur, there's-"

"I said no!" Arthur shouted. "I am king, and I forbid these terms!"

Morgana felt her own anger rise at his childish words, but wishing to avoid a public spectacle she marched into the castle, heading for the throne room. Arthur followed hot on her heels.

"Morgana, you can't be serious, I will not send you to be married to that, that..."

"It's his son, Samer. He's my age. He's not awful. Neither is Ceawlin, for that matter. I would fit in in Fereth, don't you think? Magical kingdom. Magical queen." she said, wondering how obvious it was she was only trying to convince herself.

"DON'T." Arthur suddenly shouted, cutting her off. "Don't you try and justify this, don't try and make it seem reasonable and fair that I should send you off and lose you again!"

She stayed quiet. "It's not about you. It's about everyone. It's about saving everyone's lives. There's no other way. You have nothing else Ceawlin wants. He's rich, he's powerful. The only thing he wants that you have is my power in his bloodline."

"I won't." Arthur said in a low voice. "I will not give you up to him, Morgana.

"It's not your decision, it's mine-"

"I can't watch you marry some foreign prince you don't know," he said flatly, grasping her forearms and shaking her slightly. She glared at him mutinously. "And that's the end of it."

"I told him yes," she said angrily. "I'm not your sister. I'm not your daughter," she snapped, echoing Ceawlin's own words. "You don't get to control me. Just a few weeks ago we were sworn enemies! You should be grateful I'm offering to do this for your stupid kingdom! After all, it's your own fault Ceawlin thinks so lowly of you!"

"WHY WOULD I BE GRATEFUL THAT THE WOMAN I LOVE HAS AGREED TO MARRY SOMEONE ELSE?" Arthur said so furiously and suddenly that they both flinched. He stared at her, breathing heavily, and she felt her blood turn cold as his words sank in.

"You don't love me," she said uncertainly. "You… you can't."

"Of course I love you," he said, quick bluster covering his vulnerability. "I've loved you since we were children, we were raised as brother and sister-"

"No," she said. "That's not what you meant. That's not what the woman I love means, Arthur. It means you don't want me to marry him because you want us to-" she broke off, unable to put in words the ramifications of his declaration.

"And what if I do?" Arthur said quietly, giving up all pretence. He raised his hand to grasp her cheek, his thumb resting on the angular bone, and she did not shy away. He shut his eyes. "I will not lose you this way. Not after everything." He opened his eyes. She stared back, her heart racing. He raised his other hand so he cradled her face between his palms, and, searching her eyes, he leaned in.

There was a fleeting moment where Morgana thought about stopping it, but then their lips made contact and she forgot why they should stop. It started off slow, tentative even, just a bare contact between them that left her confused, but wanting. Arthur opened his eyes, gauging her response, still holding her face gently. Morgana paused, lips parted, and then she grasped at his shirt front and pulled him back down to her.

She kissed him fiercely, years of pent up frustration, regret, longing and desire blazing through her. He pressed hard against her so she started to take steps back until she was flat against the wall, and she let out a little breath of surprise. Arthur, however, merely leaned into her even further, so every line of his body matched up to hers. His hands had left her face and were now roaming, cautiously at first, then growing bolder, sliding from her shoulders to gently grasp her waist, then smoothing lower over the small of her back and then down further, his gentle touch circling, teasingly, stoking her so she felt like she might catch fire.

She felt like a young girl again, embarrassed and excited and eager and hungry. The way Arthur's hands moved, expertly stroking each part of her over her gown, suggested he wasn't exactly a novice at this, but there was something in the urgency of his movements and the way he took in a sharp intake of breath when her hands roamed under his shirt that said this intensity was new to him as well. She bit down on his lip and he groaned, and with one arm wrapped around her waist he dragged the other up her side until his fingers skirted the edge of her breast. Dimly she felt frustration when he went no further and pulled back, and it took her a few moments to open her eyes and focus on his face. His eyes bored into hers, questioning, and she quickly realised he was waiting for her permission. She smiled and slid her arm around his neck, pulling him back to her.

He kissed back eagerly and his hand gently flickered over her breast, slightly hesitant, but she flicked her tongue against his and he caressed her in earnest, eliciting a groan which was muffled around their kisses.

In truth, Morgana didn't know what exactly would have happened if they had been left undisturbed. There was no part of her which considered stopping, and it seemed quite likely that the very throne in which Uther Pendragon used to seat his royal posterior would have been thoroughly defiled. Yet as it was, the door suddenly swung open with a bang. Arthur leapt away from Morgana instantly, but there was no way whoever it was failed to catch an eyeful of who was kissing whom pressed up against the wall.

"Gwaine," Arthur said hoarsely. Morgana tried to steady herself, part of her relieved it was only Gwaine, and part of her horrified that it should be anyone at all. She swallowed hard, knowing her hair was in disarray, and her lips and cheeks were flushed, just as Arthur's were.

Under other circumstances, Morgana might have laughed out loud at the expression on Gwaine's face. He looked thunderstruck, his mouth hanging open and his arm frozen in a strange position, half raised and awkward-looking.

"What in God's name-" he sputtered. "I mean, not that I didn't suspect, but by God, I didn't expect to walk in here and see-"

"Gwaine," Arthur said urgently. "You saw nothing."

Gwaine shook his head. "Now that is no way to talk about Morgana's kisses, Arthur, because- phew-" he fanned himself with his hand. "That didn't look like nothing."

"Gwaine," Arthur said for the third time, this time more annoyed. "You can't say a word. You didn't- we aren't-"

"Don't give me that," Gwaine said, suddenly growing serious. "I know what you two are. I know there are plenty of people who'd say it's ridiculous, stupid, dangerous, ridiculous, doomed, a complete and utter-"

"Get to the point," Morgana said sharply.

"-miracle," Gwaine said quickly. "But I knew. I told you, Morgana. I knew you couldn't go through with this sham marriage, not when you two love each other-"

Morgana and Arthur drowned each other out in their attempts to contradict him, but he just kept looking at them with a knowing look on his face.

"Leave us, Gwaine," Arthur said, half-pleadingly. Gwaine held his hands up and backed out of the room, shutting the door carefully. Arthur sat heavily in his throne and grasped his head between his hands.

"Morgana," he said, sounding agonised. She looked at him with trepidation, wondering whether he was about to tell her this was a sorry mistake. But when he looked up at her he held his hand out to her, and she took it nervously. He pulled her towards him and tugged until she complied, sitting in his lap cautiously. He took no notice of her stiffness and encircled her, breathing in her hair. She felt the absolute strangeness of the situation hit her hard, but she also felt a warm longing in her chest at the feel of him holding her. She pressed her forehead against the side of his head and shut her eyes.

What a difference mere minutes made in a lifetime.

"I tried so hard to feel nothing for you," she whispered. "But I don't. I've never felt as much for anyone as I do for you, and it scares me."

He turned his head to look at her, studying the smooth lines of her face.

"You can't love anything without being afraid of losing it," he told her. "I'm afraid too."

"I do love you," she whispered, admitting it for the first time to him and to herself. "I do."

"Then that's the end of this business with Ceawlin," Arthur said, his tone demanding. "We'll find another way."

Morgana looked up at him and smiled wanly. She nodded.

Arthur kissed her.