Before We Get Much Older
By Zee

Summary: Gwen and Morgana grow up. Gwen/Morgana, R-ish. 12,626 words.
Notes: Spoilers for Merlin 1x3, 1x4 and 1x12. Thanks to tricksterquinn for being my chief partner in Merlin babble, and miss_saigon for the beta. Title from Baba O'Riley by The Who. I know /o\


*

Gwenevere is first hired to serve Lady Morgana when she is thirteen. She knows she's lucky: most people aren't able to find such good work at her age, rumor has it that Lady Morgana pays her servants more than other nobles' servants, and even though Lady Morgana is only a year older than Gwen, she already has a reputation for protecting anyone working for her. And though Gwen must live in the servants' quarters, her father's new shop is close to the castle, and he promises that she will see him often.

She still hates leaving home, and when she's presented to Lady Morgana her face is still blotchy and tearstained. Lady Morgana is tall with bony elbows and shoulders, and her dress is too short in the arm and the hem for her. Gwen is scared that she'll get in trouble for the crying, but Lady Morgana just asks her to fetch her clean robes from the washing room. One of the older servants shows Gwen where the washing room and everything else is, and Gwen feels like she does everything wrong for the first several days, but it gets easier after that.

She misses her father terribly, and cries herself to sleep most nights. But that winter, for the first time ever, her father doesn't have to skip his own meals to keep her fed. He tells her that the shop is doing well and he beams at her every time she sees him, and Gwen figures she'll just have to get used to the job.

One afternoon Lady Morgana calls Gwen to her chambers. She's sitting by the windowsill doing her embroidery, and she turns and smiles at Gwen when Gwen enters the room.

"Come sit," she says, gesturing at the seat next to her. When Gwen sits, Lady Morgana hands her another cloth to embroider as well as needle and thread; Gwen has no idea what to do with it.

Lady Morgana giggles at Gwen's confused look. "Here, I'll teach you," she says eagerly.

"This--this is what you wanted me for?" Gwen asks, and Lady Morgana looks down at the floor, her cheeks growing a little pink.

"I wanted some company," she mutters.

Gwen wasn't expecting that, but it sounds like something she can handle. "Of course," she says. "What would you have me do?"

Lady Morgana presses her lips together and looks unhappy for a second, but then she picks up her embroidery again and begins to show Gwen how to do it.

The embroidery lesson lasts until the sun has almost set, and when Morgana dismisses her, Gwen is surprised to find that she's enjoyed herself. It felt almost like being with her old friends in the town, not like work at all.

After that, Morgana summons Gwen to embroider with her or ride with her or sew with her or simply sit with her by the fire. At first Gwen is nervous that so much time alone with her lady will mean more opportunity to slip up and do or say something wrong, but if she ever does, Morgana never says anything. By the next winter, Morgana makes Gwen her chief personal maidservant, earning Gwen the resentment of women older than her who'd been serving Morgana for longer.

Gwen isn't sure what to make of her new station. Her father is proud of her, and she no longer hates her work. She's even grown to look forward to spending time with Morgana, as the princess seems to look forward to spending time with her. It gives her more money to send home to her father.

She's still apprehensive. Sometimes, when she's leaving Morgana's chambers with a smile on her face or watching a tournament by her side or even just fetching Morgana's laundry, she'll glance around at her surroundings and the castle will feel like home.

She knows how dangerous and stupid that is. She does her best to banish the feeling, and keeps Morgana at a distance.

***

One night while she is bringing Morgana a drought for her illness as well as some tea and soup from the kitchen, Gwen runs into a nobleman in one of the poorly-lit corridors. Food goes everywhere, mostly on his tunic and her dress, and Gwen is already kneeling with her head down.

"I'm so sorry," she says, and at least her voice trembles. "My lord, I didn't see you--"

"Are you blind?" the man shouts, wobbling, and Gwen realizes that he's been drinking. "Stupid whore!"

Gwen stares at the floor. "Sir--"

"Get up."

Gwen wants to spit at his feet, but she stands.

"I want you--" his body tips forward and his speech slurs. "--to clean off my breeches."

She's spilled tea on them. "I can take them to the washing room."

"No," he snarls. "Clean them now," and before Gwen can react he grabs her hand and places it on his tea-stained groin.

Gwen snatches her hand out of his grip and steps back. She can feel adrenaline coursing through her system and she needs to no longer be here, she needs to get back to Morgana--

The man bellows something unintelligible and before Gwen can get far enough away he strikes her, the back of his hand hard and loud against her cheek. Gwen knows she has to get away now, and he's advancing again even as she scrambles to her feet. He grabs her wrist, his face purple with rage, and she rakes her fingernails down his face, drawing blood.

He cries out and lets go, and Gwen runs. There's a supply closet open to her left, and when she grabs a broom handle the broom, several mops and buckets clatter to the floor, creating a temporary barrier for someone slow and inebriated. He trips on the bucket and goes sprawling, and Gwen turns to run as fast as she can.

"That's enough." The prince's voice sounds almost bored. He stands at the end of the hallway, and even though the drunk man is years older than him, he is immediately deferential.

"My lord," he mutters as he goes to one knee, and Gwen kneels again as well, her stomach leaden with dread. Perhaps they will both attack her now, or she will be sent to the dungeons--

"Sir Christopher, you will accompany me to sober up, and then we will have a discussion about courtly manners." The prince looks more annoyed than furious, but the knight looks as terrified as Gwen feels. He stammers an apology, but the prince cuts him off. "On your feet. Now."

Sir Christopher rushes to the prince's side, and Gwen risks looking up. For a moment, her eyes lock with the prince's. This is the closest Gwen has ever been to him without Morgana's presence.

"Clean this up," Arthur says, nodding at the spilled food and cleaning supplies. "Then return to Morgana."

"Yes, my lord," Gwen says, but he is already walking away, dragging Sir Christopher with him.

Gwen makes it across the castle to Morgana's chambers faster than she ever has before. Morgana takes one look at her and gasps, and Gwen realizes that her cheek must be bruised.

"What on earth happened?" Morgana hovers in front of her, looking like she wants to touch Gwen's cheek, and Gwen finds herself taking a step back.

She opens her mouth to say 'this is nothing'--she doesn't want to deal with any possible retribution. But this is Morgana, and perhaps... "I was bringing up your tea, but there was a knight, drunk from the feast."

Morgana's eyes widen. "What did he do? Who was it? Are you all right?"

Gwen rubs at her cheek. "I'm fine. He hit me, that was all. The prince stopped him, I think his name was Christopher?"

Morgana scowls. "Yes, I know him. That seems... characteristic." Her hand goes to Gwen's shoulder. "Arthur was there?"

"Yes, he stopped the man from--attacking me further."

Morgana pulls Gwen clumsily into a hug, and Gwen's first reaction is to stiffen. She makes herself relax and hugs Morgana back, and Morgana feels warm and solid. Gwen realizes that she's shaking slightly, the aftermath of adrenaline and alarm.

"I'm so incredibly sorry," Morgana says. "You'll stay here for the night, and I'll call for someone else to fetch us tea."

Truthfully, Gwen would like to be as far away from the castle as possible right now, but Morgana's face is taut and worried and she just nods. Morgana does touch her cheek then, the barest brush of her thumb against the bruise before she lets go of Gwen to call for another servant.

Neither of them ever speak of the incident after that night, but a week later Sir Christopher rides from Camelot back to his fief on the edge of the kingdom. Gwen never sees him at court again.

***

The summer that Gwen is fourteen and Morgana is fifteen is hot and sickly humid. It seems to rain every other day, but the water seems to fall boiling from the sky, and Gwen feels trapped by steam.

She walks in to Morgana's rooms one rainy morning to find Morgana crying by her window. Morgana wipes hastily at her eyes and turns her face away as soon as Gwen walks up. "My lady?"

"I'm sorry," Morgana says, sniffing. "I was just--I miss my father, that's all."

"No need to apologize." Gwen offers Morgana her handkerchief, even though the princess has plenty of her own. Morgana takes it and blows her nose.

Gwen is surprised to realize that she's never thought about the death of Morgana's parents. She'd pictured Morgana growing up here, knowing only Camelot and Uther and this court.

"I'm sorry that you're sad," Gwen says, because she can think of nothing else. "I, um. Is there anything I can do?"

Morgana snorts and dabs at her cheeks. "No," she says. "No, sometimes I just--yesterday was the anniversary of his death."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Gwen says again, and she doesn't know what she should be doing right now, but it feels very wrong for Morgana to be like this. She wants to make it right.

Morgana's thumbs push at the handkerchief, her fingers twisting and kneading it. "In our town, there's usually--I think the villagers still hold a night of remembrance every year, but here..."

"Here no one knows?" Gwen says, swallowing when Morgana turns to look at her.

"Uther forgot," she says. "I was ill this time last year, so I don't know whether he paid his respects or not. But this year, he--he hasn't said anything."

Gwen puts a hand on Morgana's shoulder, and when Morgana glances at her she blushes, but doesn't take her hand away. "I know that the king cares for you deeply," she says. "I'm sure that if he knew this had upset you, he would--well, he would do something about it," she finishes lamely.

"I don't want him to do anything about it, or say nice things to me or about my father, or." Morgana scowls down at her handkerchief, looking for words. "I just--I want him to have remembered my father's death, on his own, just because it mattered to him."

Because it matters to Morgana. Gwen squeezes her arm. "I'm sure it matters to him. Perhaps he just... has no head for dates?"

Morgana snorts wetly. "That's kind of you to say."

Gwen rubs Morgana's shoulder, and she has no idea what else to say. It strikes her as unfair that she, not even family, should be the only one around to comfort Morgana against a grief so big, and further unfair that Morgana should suffer the grief in the first place.

"Maybe you can have your own night of remembrance," she suggests. "Even if the king and the rest of the people here don't participate, at least you can honor him that way."

She fears that she sounds silly, but Morgana looks thoughtful. "I suppose," she says. "Would you help me?"

Gwen doesn't know whether that is her place or not--she suspects not--but she nods regardless. "Of course. What shall we do?"

They find an unused corner of the courtyard, many hours after dark. Morgana brings a dagger, one of the few possessions of her father that she owns. They light a circle of candles and kneel, and Morgana places the dagger on the ground in front of her.

They're both silent for some time. Gwen isn't sure what she should do. She just waits, and eventually Morgana clears her throat.

"Father," she says. "I know that I should be at your graveside, or at least in your homeland tonight. I'm sorry."

Morgana's hood is long enough to cover her face, and her voice sounds different, lower and gravelly. "I miss you. Every day I do my best to live up to everything you stood for. I hope that you are at peace."

As rituals to honor the dead go, it's not very elaborate, and probably not scripted the way these things ought to be. But Morgana looks happier once they've blown out the candles and returned to her chambers, and she squeezes Gwen's hand.

"Thank you. I know that you didn't have to, um." Morgana looks as awkward as Gwen feels, and Gwen squeezes her hand back.

"I know," she says, and realizes that she's telling the truth: she could have refused Morgana, and her job would not have suffered for it. That's a good thing to know.

***

In the summer, the king, the prince and Morgana leave on a diplomatic visit to Cornwall, and Gwen is the youngest of the servants accompanying them. It's the first time she's ever left home. She tries not to show her nervousness, sitting in a cramped carriage with five other maidservants with gray hair, rather than with Morgana in the royal carriage.

The carriage feels stifling and hot, and Gwen wishes that she were on horseback or even on foot. When they stop to camp for the night, Morgana is distant, and Gwen feels taken aback before she realizes that Morgana's acting differently due to Uther's presence. Gwen plays along.

The ride lasts two days, and by the end of it the shine has worn off of the idea of travel. Gwen's body feels sore and cramped from sitting so long, the days are too hot and the nights are too cold, and everyone speaks down to her. They are expected to stay in Cornwall for ten days, and already Gwen misses her own familiar bed back at the castle.

Cornwall doesn't seem incredibly different from Camelot. More of the people have ginger hair and few of them have skin as dark as hers, but the castle is made out of the same kind of stone as Camelot's, and the people don't dress outlandishly. Gwen is given a small room adjoining Morgana's, and as soon as they're alone Morgana throws herself down on the bed face first.

"I am exhausted," she announced, which Gwen finds funny, considering that all Morgana has done is sit. She hasn't even had to make or break camp. "I've had to listen to my father and Arthur go over the same damn politics day and night since we left Camelot!"

Gwen sits on the bed next to her. "Aren't politics the whole reason we came here?"

"I don't care--I don't see how it needs to involve me," Morgana says, muffled into her pillow. "Our king and the king of this country will conduct affairs however they please, so why should I even bother paying attention?"

Uther and the Cornish King are apparently friends, but over the course of the visit Gwen hears various versions of the official reason for the visit: the magic quandary. King Geoffrey wants to make the use of magic punishable by death in his country, just as it is in Camelot, and he seeks Uther's advice on how to carry out this law without upending the kingdom. Gwen hears the worst-case scenarios from all the gossiping servants--apparently, far from being a magic-free kingdom, Cornwall still has wizards and witches who hold titles of nobility. There are, thankfully, none of them at the court now, otherwise Gwen would fear for the lives of everyone from Camelot. But how can the king go after the lives of loyal nobles?

She doesn't like to think of it too much, and she can see now why Morgana is so fed up with political talk. It makes her uneasy to realize that lives hang in the balance of the two kings' discussion.

Two days before they're scheduled to return to Camelot, Gwen is attending Morgana at lunch with both kings and both princes when the guards drag a serving woman into the room. Gwen begins to hear her cries when she is far down to the hall, and when the guards throw her onto the stone floor in front of King Geoffrey, the woman's terrified howls echo from the walls. Gwen can see a gash bleeding on her forehead.

Gwen can see Morgana's knuckles whiten as she clutches the edge of the table, and King Geoffrey rises from his seat. "What is this?"


The captain of the king's guard steps forward. "Sire, we discovered her in the kitchens, mixing this magic potion into the wine for tonight's feast." He tosses a satchel of herbs to the king, and the king barely glances at it before turning to the woman on the floor.

"You would poison us all, including our guests from Camelot?"

"Sire, no!" The woman's voice is frail, and Gwen's sure that she knows she has no chance of persuading the king of her innocence. "It's merely a spell for--for clarity, to persuade you to see the light and decide against banning magic--"

"Silence."

Things move quickly after that. Everyone starts bustling around and there's a lot of loud talking, even yelling; Gwen catches a glimpse of the witch being dragged away again, and apparently everyone is relocating to the courtyard, and Morgana has moved to Gwen's side. They move with the rest of the courtiers like a school of fish, following King Geoffrey and the guards and the condemned woman through the halls to the yard outside.

"What's going to happen?" Morgana seems to be talking to herself more than Gwen, because she has to know that Gwen doesn't know any more than she does. "Gods, was she really going to put a spell on the wine for all of us? Where are they taking her?"

Gwen shakes her head. "I'm not sure." And then suddenly King Uther is right there in front of Gwen, stopping them in the halls. But he doesn't speak to her, instead looking past her at Morgana.

"You should be with me and King Geoffrey's family," he says. "You can send your maid to watch with the rest, outside."

Gwen doesn't need to be told. She can feel Morgana's eyes on her as she bows and backs away, moving down the hall to get outside. Once she's in the courtyard with the rest of the horde, she can barely see what's going on, but she gathers that the guards have hustled the woman up onto the chopping block. An executioner stands next to her with an axe hefted over his shoulder. When Gwen looks up, she sees Uther and Morgana appear by the side of Prince Arthur, the Cornish Prince and King Geoffrey.

"You are charged with treason and conspiracy against the kingdom." King Geoffrey's voice rings out to the furthest corners of the courtyard, and the balcony the royalty are standing on is so high up above her that Gwen doesn't have a clear view of any of their faces. They're all opaque.

"You sought to deceive and poison us with magic in order to prevent laws against your kind," the king continues. "For this, you will be our first example."

Gwen can hear the woman's cries, and that woman is going to die. Her head is going to be cut off. Gwen suddenly wishes strongly for her father, or at least someone whom she knows and could lean on now. She wants to bury her face in a familiar shoulder, but all the people around her are just servants of another kingdom, taller than her and jostling and paying her no mind.

The king continues to speak, but Gwen stops listening. She can only see a little in the space between two heads in front of her, but she watches as the guards make the woman kneel, as she bends her back and puts her head down. Her face is turned away, so that all Gwen can see is the curly hair on the back of her head, already matted with blood.

The king stops talking, and Gwen looks up again at both kings, both princes and Morgana. The king raises his arm, and the executioner raises his axe, and Gwen can't help but look as the axe comes down with a sickening sound.

Gasps and murmurs move through the crowd like waves through the sea. Gwen starts backing away, squeezing in between courtiers and servants and moving as best she can back towards the castle. The king is finishing his proclamation, his voice rising in volume to try and compensate for the panicked conversation in his subjects. Gwen puts her hands over her ears.

She runs through the halls aimlessly, without direction, but of course that's a lie: she's headed towards Morgana's chambers. When she's almost there, she rounds a corner and nearly runs into Morgana, skidding to a halt before their heads knock together.

"Sorry--" Gwen says, but Morgana grasps her by the arms.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she rasps, and she looks it. A mop and bucket are tucked against the wall, likely abandoned when their user went down to watch the execution, and Gwen quickly grabs the bucket as Morgana falls to her knees.

She holds Morgana's hair back as she retches, and the smell makes Gwen feel sick as well. She rubs circles on Morgana's back in what she hopes is a soothing manner, and after a while Morgana stops heaving and rests her forehead on the rim of the bucket.

"Come on, let's get back to your rooms," Gwen says, when it seems like the worst has passed. "I'll draw you up a bath and see about some tea."

Morgana looks up. Her lips are white. "I didn't think he would actually kill her."

Gwen looks at Morgana, and Morgana looks back at her. "I mean--up until it actually happened, I didn't really think--that was all just so fast." She shudders, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I know that Uther has executed people like that, but it was so. Sudden."

A half hour ago--less than a half hour ago, the dead woman was in the kitchens, maybe conspiring to poison them all or maybe just preparing food or doing the dishes. Gwen lets her hand settle on Morgana's shoulder, and she doesn't know what she can possibly say, so she doesn't say anything at all.

"It doesn't seem right," Morgana says now, her voice small and far away, like a child's. "It doesn't seem right at all."

***

Gwen turns fifteen in midsummer, and Morgana turns sixteen the following autumn. It doesn't happen exactly overnight, but it seems to: suddenly Morgana has grown into her height, and she has hips and breasts and her eyes, mouth and hair seem more beautiful than before. Gone are her bony elbows, her too-long neck, and her skinny collarbones--to Gwen's eyes, she seems to have turned into a princess from a fairy tale.

Now Gwen finds herself staring sometimes when she is bathing Morgana. It's an embarrassing tendency, and Gwen does her best to keep her eyes properly down. But on the occasions that Morgana does catch her looking, she doesn't seem angry or at all shy--she holds Gwen's gaze and lifts her chin, almost defiantly, definitely an invitation.

And so Gwen looks, when Morgana silently asks her to. It makes her cheeks burn and the tips of her fingers tingle, but upon reflection she supposes that she doesn't altogether mind it.

Gwen catches Prince Arthur looking at Morgana as well, and he doesn't hide it nearly so well as Gwen does. Morgana and Gwen usually laugh about it together, the way Arthur goggles at Morgana when she wears the right pretty dresses, the way his speech sometimes stutters when he's talking to her. Part of Gwen acknowledges that Morgana laughs away Arthur's new kind of attention, but doesn't laugh away Gwen's. She doesn't know what that means, or if she does, she doesn't want to examine it too closely.

Also in that fall, Gwen first finds blood on her underthings. It's not exactly a shock--her father had mumbled his way through an embarrassing explanation of the menses to her years ago, but Gwen had forgotten to look out for it. Now she finds herself relieved that she doesn't have to go to her father for an explanation on how to deal with it; the castle has plenty of no-nonsense nurses who aren't nearly as embarrassed as her father would be when Gwen explains her predicament.

She sees her father less and less often these days, and feels guilty when she realizes that she's barely noticed his absence. The care and keeping of Morgana has long since taken up all her thoughts and actions, and sometimes she wonders if she hasn't gotten so wrapped up and intoxicated in Morgana's life that she's forgotten her own. But any time her mind wanders down this path, there's always some other task to do or event to attend with her mistress, and she soon forgets the guilt. She dotes on her father on the occasions that she does see him, at least, and he seems happier than ever. She hopes that's enough.

On the feast of Samhain, Gwen is paired up with a kitchen maid to serve the wine. The maid's name is Elizabeth "Call me Lizzy," and she has masses of curly red hair and freckles across her nose. She laughs and talks a lot, and siphons off some of the wine for herself--"I've done this a thousand times before, they never notice, why shouldn't we get some celebration as well?"

She makes Gwen laugh, and she seems to like Gwen's company, as well. The feast is still going long after night fall, and there is no more wine to serve but that seems to be all right--the party-goers seem to have had plenty.

"I don't think we're needed here anymore," Gwen says as they lean against the wall, out of the way of the comings and goings of the feast.

"Looks like it, yep," Lizzy says, her voice just slightly slurred from the wine. "Want to get out of here?"

"And do what?" Gwen turns to her, curious. She'd just been thinking of turning to bed early, but Lizzy's grinning wickedly.

"Oh, I have a few ideas." Lizzy takes her hand, and Gwen follows. They end up in a roomy closet by the kitchens, and Gwen feels bewildered.

"What--"

Lizzy cuts her off with a kiss. Gwen makes a muffled, undignified noise of surprise, and feels Lizzy's tongue shove past her teeth into her mouth. Gwen puts her hands on Lizzy's shoulders to steady herself, and--and Lizzy's tongue doesn't feel too bad once she gets past the forceful surprise of it.

It feels quite nice, actually, and Gwen kisses her back as well as she knows how. They break apart to breathe, and Lizzy's lips trail across Gwen's teeth. Gwen can feel Lizzy's hands on her back, her fingers quickly undoing the laces of her dress.

"You ever done this before?" Lizzy murmurs against Gwen's ear, and Gwen clutches at her.

She doesn't want to admit anything, but her traitorous mouth mumbles "no" into Lizzy's hair. Lizzy laughs softly, but it's not a mean laugh, and she makes a pleased noise when Gwen imitates her movements and begins to undo Lizzy's dress.

They get mostly naked, and Gwen quickly discovers that this--whatever this is--is one of her new absolute favorite things to do. Lizzy has lovely hands and a lovely mouth and a lovely tongue, and she seems to like Gwen's hands and mouth and tongue, as well. Gwen also likes the feel of Lizzy's breasts and shoulders, the curve of her ass and the line of her neck. Even though there's a lot of stumbling and blushing and Gwen embarrasses herself a couple of times, it all feels automatic and natural--like breathing, or perhaps like learning a new kind of breathing.

Eventually Lizzy pulls back, and even in the dark of the closet Gwen can see that her lips are swollen. "I think the feast's finally over," she says, and it's true: Gwen can hear everyone going back to their rooms to rest. "I need to get back to my quarters."

Gwen nods, feeling dizzy. "Right, er, yes, I should too," she says, feeling awkward and slow now that Lizzy's body isn't pressed against hers.

Morgana has questions when Gwen comes to her the next morning. "I waited for you after the feast, but you never came," she says, pouting, and Gwen thinks that Morgana's likely well aware that that pout makes grown knights swoon for her.

"Sorry," Gwen says, and Morgana doesn't demand an explanation or attempt to punish her. She just turns around so that Gwen can lace up the back of her dress, and Gwen wonders why the whole world feels different now.

She and Lizzy meet often after that. It's easy to find places to rendezvous, and Morgana is always forgiving if she notices Gwen being late at any time. Gwen gets to know Lizzy's body as Lizzy gets to know hers, and they spend most of the winter together. When they're sleeping side by side, Gwen often reflects on the fact that she knows so little about Lizzy--she knows Lizzy's body as well as she knows her own, and she knows all the different pitches of her voice and what she looks like asleep, but they never seem to talk. She doesn't know if Lizzy has family, or how old she is, or how long she's been at the castle. That kind of knowledge seems petty and unnecessary when they're together, and why talk when they can kiss?

It's one of the happier seasons of Gwen's life. Sometimes she notices the new looks Morgana gives her, like she's confused and maybe a little hurt, but for the first time Gwen feels distracted away from Morgana. She still cares for her deeply, but Lizzy is something entirely new and wonderful, and Gwen would be happy to spend all her time at Lizzy's side.

When the winter snows begin to thaw, Lizzy disappears from the castle. When Gwen inquires to the kitchen staff, they tell her that Lizzy's been sacked for skiving off her duties. It's an ugly shock, and Gwen thinks about trying to track her down in town, but Elizabeth is an awfully common name, and--and now she realizes why it would have been good to know more about her friend.

"You're sad. Has anything happened?" Morgana asks her that evening, when they're out riding.

Gwen shakes her head to clear it. She hadn't realized she'd been so obvious. "Oh, no, I'm not, nothing's happened."

Morgana gives her an impatient look. "I know you think you hold your cards tight to your chest, but I can tell when you're hiding something."

Gwen presses her lips together and gives Morgana her most guileless look. "Can you."

If Morgana hadn't been astride a horse, she would have stomped her foot with frustration. "Guinevere! You've been acting queer for months, and today you're going around like a loved one has died! What's all this about?"

For Morgana's whole life, her station has led her to believe that there's little she's not entitled to know. Gwen looks away from her and out at the horizon. "I'm sorry my behavior has upset you, my lady. I'll try to do better."

"Oh, don't be like that," Morgana says unhappily. "I just want--I'm just concerned for you, that's all."

"I promise you, I'm fine," Gwen says, and something in her tone makes Morgana drop the subject. They ride in silence for a while, before Morgana brings up one of the tales circulating about the new knight at court, Sir Bruce. Gwen listens and participates in the gossip, and Morgana seems to have forgotten the intensity of her curiosity, but Gwen can feel her staring as they take their horses back to the castle.

***

When Gwen is sixteen, Albion gets into another war with Mercia. She's seen this happen before since she started working at the castle, but this year--for the first time ever, she learns--Prince Arthur will be leading his own battalion of troops.

Morgana is present when Uther announces this, so therefore Gwen is also present. The prince's face remains impassive when Uther tells him, but he stands a little straighter. Gwen can hear Morgana hiss in a breath next to her, and she wonders if Morgana will be giving Uther her opinions on the wisdom, or lack thereof, of this choice. Lately Morgana has been involving herself in the king's decisions more and more.

"Arthur's a year younger than me," Morgana says the moment they're alone. "He's a good swordsman, but I'm certain he's not yet ready to lead."

She paces round and round her chambers, and Gwen continues to clean the room. "Well, the king seems to think he is."

"I'm sure that the king is shortsighted when it comes to this. And no, I can't talk to Arthur about it," Morgana says, reacting to the suggestion Gwen had been about to make. "He's too proud and he disagrees with me about everything, anyway."

Morgana's pacing grows more fretful. "Could you at least stop that?" Gwen says. "You're giving me a headache and upsetting yourself further and not doing anyone any good."

Morgana stops pacing but glowers at Gwen. "I'm not upsetting myself further," she says stubbornly, and Gwen rolls her eyes at her.

A few nights before Arthur is scheduled to depart with his soldiers, the head page comes across Gwen as she's heading to her own chambers for the night.

"You there! His Highness the Prince has requested some hot stones for his bed, see to it."

Gwen might be the Lady Morgana's personal maidservant, but this man still outranks her. She's exhausted and just wants to go to sleep, but she can tell from the look on the page's face that he will brook no argument. She nods and sighs, heading to the kitchen for the hot stones.

She's never been in the prince's chambers before, and she swallows her nervousness as she knocks on his door. He calls for her to come in, and when she enters he is sitting with his back to her, staring motionless at his fireplace.

Gwen arranges the hot stones at the foot of his bed, and she has turned to leave when he finally speaks.

"You're Morgana's maid."

"Yes." She supposes it makes sense that he'd recognize her, and also that he wouldn't bother to learn her name.

"You're what, fifteen? Sixteen?" He stands and faces her, his hands clasped behind his back, and despite the briskness of his voice, he looks very young.

"Sixteen, my lord."

"My age." He mutters something that she doesn't catch, and his head bows. "Tell me, do you think you could lead men into battle?"

He doesn't sound as if he's speaking to her--he sounds like he's speaking to someone far away, or perhaps to himself. "I couldn't say, my lord."

"Well, why don't you say anyway, just for argument's sake," he says, an edge to his voice, and Gwen breathes in through her nose.

If the prince were Morgana, she would reply by asking him if he thought he could wait on someone else, hand and foot, for the rest of his life starting at age thirteen. But she's well aware that he is not Morgana. "I don't think I could, then."

He looks her directly in the eye. "You don't think you could?"

Gwen has no idea what kind of conversation this is. "No, my lord."

He looks away, and Gwen breathes. "No," he says, his voice now sour. "No, of course you don't think you could. Morgana doesn't think I can, does she?"

"It's not my place to say." The reply comes automatic and immediate, and for a moment Gwen is surprised at how instinctual some rules of court life have become.

Arthur snorts. "Men are going to die. Depending on my decisions, more or less of them will die."

Gwen hesitates. "Yes," she says slowly. "That's true, but. But I think it's a good sign that you're thinking this way, sir."

He turns to look at her, eyes narrowed. "How so?"

Gwen can feel her heart thudding in her chest. She wouldn't dare to speak this freely to most nobles she didn't already know, but she still remembers that night with Sir Christopher two years ago, whether or not the prince does. "Many commanders wouldn't even take the deaths under their command into consideration."

"Oh, you don't think so?" the prince says, glaring. "We hold our knights to a chivalrous code, Guinevere."

She doesn't let the surprise of hearing her name show on her face. "Then it is good that you're holding yourself to that same code. That's all I'm trying to say."

He continues to stare at her. "Do you think I'll make a decent commander?"

How the hell is she supposed to know that? And how does she answer without it seeming like she's just saying what she knows she ought to say to her superior? She smiles at him, as much as she can. "I know that the king wouldn't have given you this if he didn't believe you would make a good commander."

The prince scoffs. "That's not what I asked. Do you think I'm up to this?"

"Yes. Yes, my lord, I truly do." She meets his eyes and doesn't look away, feeling almost dizzy. The prince's eyes seem to be trying to pierce her, sharp and hot, and she wonders if he's going to ask something else of her. Right now, in this moment, she thinks that she would give it.

But the prince looks away, and Gwen does as well. "Very well then," he mutters, and waves a hand towards the door. "You may go."

She turns to leave, and the mumbled "thank you" comes as her hand is on the door. She's certain that she wasn't supposed to hear, so she leaves without hesitating.

Prince Arthur is gone from the castle by the end of the week, and Gwen doesn't tell anyone about their conversation.

*

Part 2