A/N: Sequel to Something Gold Can Stay
. . .
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.
