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When Morgana was five, her parents took her and her sister to the capital for the first time. Morgause was to go to the Isle of the Blessed for training after that, but Morgana was too young to worry about that. She was far more interested in the boys she'd seen playing with wooden swords in the courtyard.
"I want to play," she announced as she marched up to them.
The boys looked at each other. "You can be the princess," the golden haired one suggested. "We can fight to rescue you!"
Morgana frowned. "Why can't the princess fight?"
"Because we don't have another sword," the boy said like it was obvious.
She was about to stomp on his foot and grab his when the other boy piped up. "I can make you one. Look!" He scurried away to the bushes and bulled a couple of twigs free. He held them across each other.
Morgana glared. She was just about to protest that it wasn't a good sword when the boy murmured a couple of words and the sticks came together and swelled until they formed a perfect wooden sword, even if it was green.
The boy grinned at her and handed it to Arthur. "Now Arthur can knight you with it," he said proudly.
That was much more satisfactory, especially when the knighting was done and she got to join in their battle. Merlin, the boy who'd made her sword, told her they were all knights for Camelot but they'd been cursed not to recognize each other and had been tricked into fighting. It sounded like a very good story to her which made up for the fact that Merlin wasn't very good with his sword. Arthur was very good, she decided, and he told her she was good too, so she forgave him for trying to make her be the princess.
When she told her father the story later, he burst out laughing. Her mother looked almost concerned.
"If you married him, you wouldn't have to just be a princess," her father teased her. "You could be a queen."
Morgana considered this. "I'd rather marry Merlin," she said. "He made me this, look." She showed off her new sword.
"Very nice," her father approved.
Her mother seemed happier with this idea. "They say he's Emrys, you know. He'd be a very suitable choice."
Her father choked. "For goodness' sakes, Vivienne, the child's only five!"
"Never too soon to be planning," she said serenely.
Morgana wasn't sure how she felt about that, so she snuck away and tore twigs off the bushes. It took her till the end of the trip there, but by the end of it, she was able to present Merlin with a sword that she'd made herself.
When she was twelve, her father died, and her mother brought her back to the citadel.
She knew who her playmates were now. She curtsied politely to them both in the receiving hall and then went to find a place to hide. She ended up curled in a window sill, half hidden by the curtains.
She didn't want to hear the pitying comments when people saw her black dress. She didn't want to see her mother begin the process of making a "strategic alliance." She didn't want to be tested by the priestesses for a position on the Isle.
She wanted her father back.
Failing that, she wanted to at least be allowed to ride, long and hard till all the pain vanished. She wanted to scream and watch the windows shatter with the force of it. She wanted to burn something.
A little dragon formed out of dust and scurried up her dress into her lap. She reached out a tentative finger. It hopped up onto it and curled around it, smiling toothily in satisfaction.
She looked up to see Merlin standing a few feet away. He was biting his lip, looking nervous, but he flashed her an idiotically wide grin when he saw her looking at him.
She scrubbed her eyes furiously. "What do you want?" she demanded.
"Arthur's stuck in lessons for another hour," Merlin told her. "It's the perfect timing."
She frowned. "To do what?"
Merlin grinned wickedly. "To try out my new color changing spell on all his clothes. Come on. Mum made me promise not to turn Kilgharrah pink again, but she didn't say anything about Arthur's new jacket."
Her mother would be horrified.
Morgana pushed herself off the windowsill. She offered her hand. Merlin grabbed it, still grinning, and they started running towards the soon-to-be king's rooms.
She refused to go to the Isle, despite her sister's urging, so her mother dragged her home with her and her new husband.
Morgana exchanged letters with both of them after that. Her first letter to Arthur started formal and polite, turned witty and biting in the middle, and accidentally revealed her loneliness at the end. Her letter to Merlin was much the same, only at the end of it, she drew a picture of a dragon, and she breathed magic on it to make it fly.
The letters flew as quick as they could after that, and with magic involved at both ends, it was a rare day they didn't speak.
When she was sixteen, she convinced her mother to let her spend a season or two at court.
Her first ball was a resounding success. She danced with both Merlin and Arthur, and everyone wanted to dance with her after that.
She still ended up sneaking out onto the balcony with the others. The three of them leaned against the railing and watched the adults below.
"Your parents are nice," Morgana told Merlin quietly.
Arthur nodded in agreement, something dark in his eyes. Reading between the lines in his letters, Merlin's parents had ended up more or less raising Arthur.
Merlin beamed at them both. "Thank you."
"Your uncles are awful," she told Arthur flatly.
Arthur grimaced. "Tristan is . . . competent."
"Not at hiring assassins, he's not," Merlin said with fake cheer.
Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. "Proof, Merlin," he said wearily. "We need proof."
Merlin muttered something she was pretty sure was, "Who needs proof when you've got dragons," but she politely ignored it.
He changed the subject quickly in any case. "While we're pronouncing judgement on families, your mother scares me," he informed her.
Arthur snorted into his cup. "Griffins? Fine. Enemy knights? No problem. Poison? He laughs and drinks it. But mothers with marriageable daughters?"
Morgana felt the blood rise to her face.
"She didn't."
"She did," Merlin said sheepishly. "Not that I'm opposed to marrying you," he added hastily. He winced. "And I'm not - I didn't mean - "
He was blushing bright red. Morgana laughed and tried not to think about the thoughts shivering in the back of her mind. "What about Arthur? How does he deal with matchmaking mothers?"
Arthur groaned. "I've had to fight off three love potions in the last year."
Morgana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How? I thought you had to kiss your true love to do that."
"He did," Merlin said cheerily. "He kissed Gwen."
"Merlin," Arthur growled.
Morgana racked her mind for a Gwen. Only one option came up. "Not - Not the maid I've been assigned? That Gwen?"
Arthur squared his jaw. "And if I was?"
Morgana glanced at Merlin who was watching with polite interest that she knew was hiding something.
Ah. There had been rumors that Merlin's mother had been . . . not nobility.
"Then I imagine you'll have a fight on your hands when your uncles find out," she said smoothly.
"One more year," Arthur said grimly. "One more year and I can get rid of them."
"Sooner if we find proof," Merlin added.
Morgana looked out over the dancing couples. "Well. If you should need a pair of sensible hands . . . "
She risked a glance back. Arthur looked grateful. Merlin was grinning like an idiot.
"I think you mean another pair of sensible hands," Arthur said, hiding his expression behind a neutral mask.
She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I do."
"But Gwen's helping," Merlin said reasonably.
"She's in love with Arthur," Morgana said. "How much sense can she have?"
Arthur spluttered out a protest. Merlin was still grinning at them both.
Morgana took his hand on the pretext of pulling him forward to see the fireworks and then promptly forgot to let go.
Not opposed, she thought.
She could work with that.