"Sir Knight, would you like some food and water? You must be famished." hissed Morgana putting an apple slice to his lips.
Gwaine was only half there, weaving in and out of reality. There was a dull, throbbing pain coming from his wrists which were raw and bleeding from his bindings to the rafter on the ceiling. His feet touched the ground, but his knees had given out after a short while, and so he dangled there.
Morgana slowly waved the fragment of apple before Gwaine's nose, letting him take in the scent that made his stomach cringe with need for sustenance. She held the piece before his lips and all he had to do was take it in his mouth. It took all of Gwaine's conviction and wrung out every last drop of pride, but somehow, he managed to clamp the apple between his lips.
The sweet sticky residue clung to his lips, reminding him of how incredibly starved he was. His teeth sunk down on the small piece of apple, letting the taste inkle to every last place on his tongue. Finally, his dry throat swallowed painfully. Why couldn't he have been struck dead like the rest of his knights? He assumed they had all perished, and now, Morgana was simply using him for information. The cold stung his bare back and nipped at his throbbing wounds. Death sounded so much better than this suffering.
Trite reality pounced on him as Morgana's warm touch landed on his chest. Her palm rested there as the index finger of her other hand began tracing at his jaw, "Oh, how I've wanted you Sir Knight," she breathed, "When I first saw you sauntering through the corridors past my chambers those six years ago, the breath was sucked from my lungs and I forgot how to breath in."
His jaw tightened in disgust, "You betrayed my king. I would never want anything to do with you and your filthy motives."
"Mmmm, well I suppose I'll just have to use force." Morgana hummed.
Fear tinged Gwaine's features as his mind flitted through all the possible things that could be done. What if she threatened to kill one of his fellow knights? He would have no choice to comply with her twisted requests.
She placed both of her hands on his chest, her eyes gleaming with mischievous intent. Her lips formed foreign whisperings and her eyes went aglow. Gwaine's thoughts clambered to a hault and his mind was consumed. He was still there, but he had no control over himself. It was as if something had pushed him aside and began controlling his mind to its own will.

OOO

Morgana released him from his bonds, his eyes glazed over with hunger for her. It felt so good to finally see him looking at her that way. She'd wanted it for so long, but there was a tugging at the back of her mind, screaming in her ear. This wasn't actually him. It was a spell.
He took her in his arms and kissed her like it was his life-long desire. She tore at his tunic and lifted over his head breaking up their kissing for a moment. She only felt a little guilty. Only a little. His mouth explored hers eagerly and the thought of his falseness smothered her.
"Anything for you." He whispered against her lips. And at that, something snapped within her. She sobbed pushing him away, only to cry all the more at his terribly confused expression. She whispered the foreign words of the Old Religion through her sobs.

OOO
Like a jolt of lightening streaming through him, he regained control of himself and threw himself from the bed to the door. He tried to escape, but the door was locked. He kicked and rammed at it frantically, the clarity of it all fogging his senses.
"Please." Morgana choked, "Just sit down."
The sadness in her voice froze him in his tracks and sent chills through his bones. He turned to look at her, her cheeks gleaming with tears. His mind burned with stories of Morgana before she'd been drowned in her own hate. Merlin had told him all about her and her kind heart. Her lovely smiles. Her good deeds. Gwaine could never imagine that the woman of those stories and the murderer and spreader of hate that sat before him now. Except now, there was a look in her eyes that spoke of something hopeful. Something that made recovery of that brilliant soul who once brightened the whole of Camelot seemingly possible.
Something within him gave silent permission to do her bidding and sit. He picked up his tunic that had been discarded on the floor along the way to the wooden rocking chair that sat next to the lifeless fireplace. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, trying to suppress the overwhelming stress he felt panging at his mind. When he opened them, he looked up at Morgana, who sat there, among the mess of sheets with a look that reminded him of a lost puppy. Her eyes met his gaze and she broke into a mess of tears that had her gasping for breath in between sobs. His throat grew tight as he thought of the place she must be in.
"I've done everything wrong," she sobbed, "I threw it all away, my friends, my family. All for a throne. All for vengeance."
Gwaine just sat in the shock of what was happening. Not knowing what to say, or how to react. "Please just say something!" She begged. But he couldn't. He just looked at her with something between confusion, sympathy, and, somehow, anger. "Why are you telling me this?" Gwaine asked, trying to understand. "Because there is nobody else. Nobody who wouldn't find me weak and vulnerable; take it as an opportunity to strike me down. You have every right to slay me and rid the world of this filth right now. But you won't, will you Sir Knight?" She said it as more of a statement than a question. And it was true. He wouldn't. Couldn't.
Something twisted back into place within her and her eyes shifted to a hateful gaze. "Now, get out." she said sternly. Gwaine looked at her curiously and she screamed it then, "Get out!" He got up slowly from the chair never taking his eyes off her as he walked to the door, holding his hands up as if to surrender. As one of his hands stumbled for the doorknob, her eyes turned to gold and Gwaine disappeared before her eyes and was set to the caves below, having no recollection of what had happened between them.