The door to Morgan's rented apartment opened as though by magic, because it was.
She'd had Lancelot for almost a month, trying to wear him down, but honestly it was going how it always seemed to go: tiring. His will was always so dumb and strong, and although she sometimes saw chances and flashes of hope, he remained the Heroic he'd always been.
So she told Arthur she had him and waited. Arthur would go to Merlin and use him to find her - that was the painfully obvious move - and so she dropped her magical guards. Not completely, not even all that much. But enough that she could be found by a magician of Merlin's calibre. She knew he'd find her, but also knew that Merlin would know she was letting herself be found.
Everything with the two of them was a high stakes life and death game - although the life and death part had rather fallen by the wayside now everyone was immortal.
So before Arthur got close and she could feel him, Morgan told Lancelot. Don't fuck with me, she said to her captive audience, and you'll be home before you know it.
So when Arthur entered, Morgan and Lancelot were sitting together at the little kitchen table, the open plan of the small place making it easy to see from the doorway.
"Hello, little brother." She smiled at him, eyes shiny like a panther watching its prey from a high tree branch. "Look, Lancelot, I told you we were about to have company."