It's something of an unfortunate habit, and Morgana knows that. She has since she was a child and she used to infuriate her nurses and her mother's maids by sneaking down to the hall to watch the men and women dancing, to watch her father drag her mother out of the hall, to watch King Uther watching that with a look in his eyes that Morgana was too young to place then and too wise to want to, now. But she's always loved eavesdropping, knowing little things she's not supposed to.
She knows quite a few things, knows quite a few people better than they'd like her to.
Gaius had some great love, when he was young - sometimes she wonders if it was Hunith, who is always very gentle with him, but then she looks at Merlin and knows it's not. Hunith would have given him a father, if she could have.
Gwen gossips with the other maids but never about Morgana herself, and Morgana might have taken that on faith, but she's never been so very good at that.
The head cook is desperately in love with one of the stable-hands who is twenty years her junior, but he loves her back and it's all very sordid since she's been married fifteen years, and they're planning to run off together, though he can't give her a better home than the hayloft they lie in sometimes. Which, come to think of it, isn't really running very far. It'll be interesting, Morgana thinks, to see how that plays out. If nothing else, it will be amusing.
But Merlin and Arthur have always been her favorite - she'll lurk outside of Arthur's rooms (though she knows the castle gossips say she pines for him, oh, he can only dream - though she knows he doesn't), or by his open windows, when she knows they're inside, together - alone, most of the time.
She likes the sound of their laughing, the sound of Merlin's cries of indignation when Arthur commits some minor offense, and Arthur's screeching when Merlin does the same. She likes to watch them, too, at feasts. When Merlin takes food from Arthur's plate and Arthur tries (and fails, miserably, every time - Arthur Pendragon was not built for subtlety) to conceal the entire thing from his father. When Merlin makes some snide joke and Arthur nearly kills himself trying to hide his laugh in a gulp of wine - when the gulps are of another kind entirely.
She's not quite sure that she knows, though - oh, she knows they sleep together. Nearly every night, she knows that Merlin creeps back to his room in Gaius' chambers only out of deference to the physician. She knows that when Arthur left on campaign Merlin fought and kicked and screamed until he was permitted to join him. She knows that when Merlin came back, badly bleeding and near dead Arthur didn't eat for nearly three days, waiting for him to wake up.
She knows full well that it looks like love, but she doesn't know quite what that means. And so she keeps listening at doors, waiting for proof, waiting to know.
It's always been unfortunate, Morgana's need to possess information through any means available to her.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-05-03 03:35 am (UTC)It's something of an unfortunate habit, and Morgana knows that. She has since she was a child and she used to infuriate her nurses and her mother's maids by sneaking down to the hall to watch the men and women dancing, to watch her father drag her mother out of the hall, to watch King Uther watching that with a look in his eyes that Morgana was too young to place then and too wise to want to, now. But she's always loved eavesdropping, knowing little things she's not supposed to.
She knows quite a few things, knows quite a few people better than they'd like her to.
Gaius had some great love, when he was young - sometimes she wonders if it was Hunith, who is always very gentle with him, but then she looks at Merlin and knows it's not. Hunith would have given him a father, if she could have.
Gwen gossips with the other maids but never about Morgana herself, and Morgana might have taken that on faith, but she's never been so very good at that.
The head cook is desperately in love with one of the stable-hands who is twenty years her junior, but he loves her back and it's all very sordid since she's been married fifteen years, and they're planning to run off together, though he can't give her a better home than the hayloft they lie in sometimes. Which, come to think of it, isn't really running very far. It'll be interesting, Morgana thinks, to see how that plays out. If nothing else, it will be amusing.
But Merlin and Arthur have always been her favorite - she'll lurk outside of Arthur's rooms (though she knows the castle gossips say she pines for him, oh, he can only dream - though she knows he doesn't), or by his open windows, when she knows they're inside, together - alone, most of the time.
She likes the sound of their laughing, the sound of Merlin's cries of indignation when Arthur commits some minor offense, and Arthur's screeching when Merlin does the same. She likes to watch them, too, at feasts. When Merlin takes food from Arthur's plate and Arthur tries (and fails, miserably, every time - Arthur Pendragon was not built for subtlety) to conceal the entire thing from his father. When Merlin makes some snide joke and Arthur nearly kills himself trying to hide his laugh in a gulp of wine - when the gulps are of another kind entirely.
She's not quite sure that she knows, though - oh, she knows they sleep together. Nearly every night, she knows that Merlin creeps back to his room in Gaius' chambers only out of deference to the physician. She knows that when Arthur left on campaign Merlin fought and kicked and screamed until he was permitted to join him. She knows that when Merlin came back, badly bleeding and near dead Arthur didn't eat for nearly three days, waiting for him to wake up.
She knows full well that it looks like love, but she doesn't know quite what that means. And so she keeps listening at doors, waiting for proof, waiting to know.
It's always been unfortunate, Morgana's need to possess information through any means available to her.