Set after season 3. Gwen&Morgana centric, can but doesn't have to be read as romantic. Gwen/Arthur.

Reference to a minor season 4 spoiler.

Cut This Thread

He's always shivering, the king; they have shut all the windows and doors, covered him in blankets, and still: when he rises from his torpor, it is to tremble all over, eyes wide open and empty, and his forehead is sweaty and cold. Gwen has never met anything like it before.

She sleeps in his chambers, these days. They brought her a bed; Arthur insisted on that. It reminds her a little of the nights when she staid with Morgana, except that even at their most exerting, those held something sweet; this –

She is doing this for Arthur, of course. He would never have asked it of her, but the grateful look in his eyes when she insisted on it, his stumbling, awkward and serious words of thanks convinced her that she did right. When she is not by the king's side, she is at his; just like the knights Arthur made that day, in loneliness and exile, she and Merlin are now always with him; in the open, acknowledged though they have no title, as if they too had been knighted.

It is hot, in the king's chambers, and the air is stale. So when a sudden, icy cold gust of air caresses her face, she knows at once that it is no wind; she sits up and blinks at the darkness. The breathing coming from the bed next to her is heavy but regular, no change. As her eyes get used to the darkness, she can see a kind of white mist dance before her like cold smoke. She waits, and maybe she was expecting this, because when it condenses and glimmers to reveal Morgana's form, she is not that surprised.

Her former Lady stands by the bed, looking down at her; her face is serious, her eyes rimmed with dark. She wears a beautiful dark blue gown that Gwen recognises, though she can't imagine how Morgana could have gained access to it again.

But of course, the presence is not real; faintly, her form shimmers and blinks in and out, skin and cloth replaced by dark spots. Still, Gwen cannot know what she might be able to do to her, through this apparition; and yet she stares up at her in silence; she's not afraid. She's not sure why.

Morgana's eyes meet hers, surprisingly sharp in the darkness.

"Why did you betray me?" she asks; her voice is cold, as it has been much too long when they spoken to each other.

There are so many answers to that question. Gwen could say that Morgana smiled at her death, arranged it even, perhaps; that she threatened her brother's life, she knows that now; that Morgana, as a queen, was more a tyrant than Uther had been, if only because his murders held a mad, horrible kind of logic...

But are those the real reasons? Gwen isn't sure, so she remains silent. She's not sure the image can hear her anyway, or if it came only to voice its reproaches.

"You forgot me," Morgana goes on. "You thought me abducted by an evil sorceress, and you went and moved on."

"I never forgot you," Gwen says quietly. "I missed you. I loved you."

"You loved Arthur more," Morgana says.

She can hear her, then. Gwen is silent. It is an unfair reproach; she loved Arthur the more for searching for Morgana with such dedication; for being there for her when Morgana was gone, when she lay dying. But his presence made the pain lighter; and maybe for Morgana, that is bad enough; she could be this intransigent even before.

Morgana waits a moment longer, before she turns to look at the king, lying still and as if fallen on the large bed.

"You care for him now?" she asks.

"Yes."

Morgana turns back to her, more animated now, angry; part of Gwen is glad for that, because the cold, dead look in her eyes makes something in her curl. This is over, she tells herself. Forever.

"You hate him," Morgana say.

Gwen marks a beat, two.

"Yes," she says.

"You pray for his death."

Gwen averts her eyes; Morgana has always been good at this, pushing, but in the past she never did it to her.

"Why would I?" she says. "He is ill. He no longer reigns." She glances back up. "And I wish no pain on Arthur."

"Me, they would have killed, had I been defeated and caught. You wished for this. You worked for it."

I would have begged for your life, Gwen thinks. In the name of the friendship we used to share, of all your kindnesses through the years, of the pain you went through. Because I don't want to be a murderess.

But they would not have listened, would they? They couldn't keep alive one who had tried to steal the throne; she knew that when she went and gave Leon the key.

"After what you did to me, you have no right to reproach me," she says.

"I was protecting myself," Morgana says. Her voice is curt. She doesn't ask, what, among the things she did to her, Gwen might mean.

"So was I."

Morgana glares at her, and it's almost reassuring; maybe because it makes it seem like she is here, not a magical image speaking to her, and can Gwen even be sure that it is truly her, and not an odd illusion conjured up by who knows who, or a hallucination even, born of long, lonely days by this man's side? The room is completely silent safe for the king's heavy breathing; they might as well have been completely alone in the castle, even though Gwen knows there are guards posted right in front of the door.

"You were protecting Arthur," Morgana accuses; Gwen is almost moved by how hurt she sounds, and then she adds: "Would you love him, if he weren't the future king?"

Gwen is silent. The easy answer is: of course she would. She loves Arthur for everything he is, the honour, the kindness, the way he smiles, the serious, awed way he looks at her and the silly faces... And maybe that's the truth, now; she cannot imagine not gladly following him if he gave up his kingdom forever.

But she fell in love with a prince who came to save his servant's village, who was conceited but would listen to her when she told him so, long before he even loved her, who risked his life to rid his kingdom of a dangerous beast... She fell in love with the possibility of such a man one day reigning as king. She had always thought she wanted a hero; but that hadn't been enough; now she wants more than that.

"What does it matter?" she asks. "Being the future king is part of who he is."

"I was queen. You could have staid by my side."

"I have faith in Arthur," Gwen says; suddenly, she feels relaxed: it is that simple, in the end.

Morgana makes one more step towards her bed, touching it now, and, irrationally, Gwen can feel her presence almost physically; she need only reach out to touch her; but she would only grasp air. For how long has it been like that...?

"Faith," Morgana hisses, and her beautiful face twists into something ugly. "He stood by as your father died."

"Yes," Gwen says calmly, and she glances at the king on his bed. "But I know he no longer would." I would ask it of him, and he would listen; and maybe I wouldn't even need to anymore...

Morgana snorts and even shakes her head; her disbelief is not another attempt at hurting her but real, absolute; it makes Gwen hurt for her again, or maybe for what Arthur lost in her.

"You used to believe in him as well," she tells her former friend.

The contemptuous look on Morgana's face seems to try to deny that.

"I used to know how to push him," she corrects. "And I used to be foolish; I didn't know what it is to –" She breaks off, and glares at her, as if blaming her for the almost-confidence. "You wouldn't understand."

Gwen looks back down.

"Why are you here?" she asks.

"I wanted to know," Morgana says, and Gwen sees something fragile in the bravado in her voice then, "why you betrayed me. If there were reasons I hadn't thought of, if I –" She stops. "But you are just what I expected."

Gwen gives no answer and doesn't move. Morgana's judgement she can let glide off her. When she looks back up, Morgana is gone, and that does not surprise her either. Already, their discussion feels far away. The night will be long still; sometimes the king raves and moves in his sleep, fighting invisible enemies and accusers, and her presence has calmed him in the past. But in the morning, Arthur himself will wake her, with Merlin in his trail; she will go outside and find Camelot's knights, her brother, her friends. Morgana is far away; and if she returns, they will defeat her anew.

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