It had been several months since Arthur's near death incident, but Morgana hadn't been the same since. Her dreams were only getting worse, and most nights she found herself curled up by her window, watching the stars as the night went by.
However, this night proved to be one that would be restless for the whole castle. The workers that the king had commissioned were anything but quiet, and her room was practically shaking from the force of their banging.
Gwen had thankfully, for her sake, gone home to sleep in her nice quiet bed. Unfortunately for Morgana, that meant she was awake and alone. That left her with one option. Since Arthur was undoubtedly awake already, she figured it wouldn't be intruding if she went to visit him.
She had found herself thinking of Arthur more and more on these sleepless nights. Her dreams were almost always filled with him, and her days were spent surrounded by his lingering presence. It wasn't a surprise that her mind was full of him, but it was surprising how much she suddenly craved it, the non-stop whirlwind of Arthur.
She pushed open his door, peering into the darkness. The hallway was cold, and she found herself drawn further into the warmth of his room. She let the door shut behind her, engulfing her in the black.
The prince was lying on his stomach, his face pressed firmly into a pillow. He mumbled out, "Merlin, I thought I told you to get them to stop, not get louder!"
A stray pillow suddenly hit Morgana in the chest, presumably having been thrown by the spoiled brat lying a few feet away. Shocked at his behavior, she yelled out indignantly, "Ow! Arthur!"
Arthur's head shot up, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Morgana? What are you doing here?" He looked around the room in confusion, as if she had suddenly appeared by magic and not walked through the door.
She smoothed out her gown from where the pillow had wrinkled her skirts and wrapped her robe tighter around her. "Currently recovering from being hit by a pillow, thanks ever so much for that."
"I thought you were Merlin." Even in the dark, Morgana could see the sheepish look on his face. Or perhaps she just knew him well enough that she could see it in her head; she wasn't sure. Lately she wasn't sure of a lot of things.
He ran his fingers through his messy blonde hair, clearly uncomfortable with having just assaulted Morgana. "Sorry if I hurt you."
She simply scoffed and moved over to his bed to perch on the corner. "It was just a pillow, Arthur. I'm more accustomed to verbal abuse from you, but this wasn't that much of a step up, really."
He spluttered, "Verbal abuse? Morgana, I—"
Her laughter cut off his tirade, her eyes glittering even in the darkness. "Oh, don't get so upset Arthur, I was only joking. You know I enjoy our fights." She shoved his shoulder lightly, grinning at him.
He rubbed his shoulder as if it were sore, faking pain. "Who's abusive now?"
She smiled and pushed him again, causing him to fall back against the pillows.
As he slowly sat up, he studied her face. In the glow of the moon, he noticed the dark circles forming under Morgana's eyes, and he knew that this wasn't the first night she had been kept awake. Softly, he spoke, "You never did tell me what you were doing here."
"Isn't it obvious?" She gestured to the ground, where the noises were floating up through the floorboards.
"That isn't why you were awake though, was it?"
She looked at him curiously, certain that he could read her mind sometimes. "No. But that doesn't really matter."
"It does matter. It's the nightmares, isn't it?" He sounded so concerned, and it cut at Morgana. If only he knew.
"It's fine, Arthur, really." She didn't want to have this conversation with him. She wanted him to laugh and joke and take her mind off things like usual.
"Morgana, you don't have to hide this, you can talk to me." He reached across the covers and grasped her hand in his.
For just a moment, she considered telling him—sharing the fears brewing in her heart, but she couldn't get the words out. Suddenly, the noises from below stopped, leaving them in agonizing silence.
She yanked her hand away and forced a smile on her lips. "Guess I can finally get some sleep now."
He made to grab for her hand again as she stood, but she was too quick for him. "Morgana." The tone in his voice was clearly disapproving, but she ignored it.
"Good night, Arthur." She slipped out into the hall, the warmth of his room suddenly suffocating.
When she wakes screaming a few nights later, she doesn't seek him out. She simply calls for Gwen and hopes that her arms will chase the demons away as well as Arthur could.
Soon after, there is chaos in Camelot, and Morgana is not the least bit surprised. However, she is worried.
Arthur is hurt, and she only stops herself from running to his side because someone had beaten her to it. Gwen is there, and she doesn't appear to be leaving any time soon. Arthur's staring at her with something like admiration in his eyes, and Morgana could swear she just heard him thank Gwen for something.
Apparently Gwen saved his life, and really, shouldn't she just be glad of that fact? But something deep within her rears its ugly head and taunts her with envious thoughts. Had it been her that saved him, Arthur would never have admitted it, let alone thanked her.
She desperately wants to taunt him about it, to make it into a joke—something that he'll regret. But she stops herself. She simply brings Gwen some bandages and helps tend to his wound.
When his arm finds its way across her shoulder as she wraps bandages around him, she feels some of the envy wash away. It is only Arthur, after all.