Saccharine Torments
Chapter One: Haunted
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin and I make no money from this fanfiction!
Rated T for now; I'm not sure how dark this is going to get in future chapters.
Set a few weeks after the Season 3 finale.
The earth is damp under her bare feet, the sky barely visible through the dense canopy of the trees; she can hear the thunder crashing in her ears loud enough to know that it's thick with dark storm clouds. Her breath's ragged but she can't stop running, she's running for her life from some unknown menace. Lightening flashes again, briefly illuminating the gloomy path, hardly reassuring. She would have given anything for the light of the merest candle, for the slightest warmth to guard against the malignant darkness.
The trees loom over her like spectres, this place is so hostile, but it seems that the woods have no end. She's so alone; she hasn't seen another soul that could help her, that could save her; she's far from the safety of Camelot. She knows she's being followed though and that's why she flees. She stumbles but the sheer terror is enough to force her up again, to run limping along. It's catching her up now; she can feel its cold breath on the nape of her neck. She tries to ignore it, to pretend it's just the wind that she feels blowing against her skin.
The trees start to thin and there's a clearing in sight. Gwen collects the last remnants of her flagging energy to put is a dash towards the dim light. She just knows that if she makes it that everything will be fine.
She triumphs, collapsing onto the ground, in an exhausted heap, utterly bedraggled and feeling intense tiredness in her limbs. She feels safe though, she feels a burden has been lifted, that the danger has past. There's a small lake in the clearing, its dark waters gleaming eerily in the moonlight. The sky has cleared now and the scene is oddly peaceful despite the intense chill in the air.
She pulls herself up and walks towards the lake so as to wash her face of its grime. As she does, something catches her eye in the water, something pale just beneath the surface. She frowns and looks closer; it seems to be getting closer.
A scream leaves her mouth as it surfaces and she the realisation sinks in.
Morgana.
Her skin had always been creamily pale in life but it had never been this pallid shade. Her hair is loose, its dark tendrils spread in the water, moving with a life of their own. Her eyes are blank, unseeing, she's dead.
Gwen just stares, her hand shakily inching towards the body, so as to shut the eyes that used to be so full of spark, so full of life.
She recoils at the sudden motion of those colourless lips.
"You killed me."
Gwen snapped awake, sitting up with violence, the sensation of her dream still upon her. She blinked, the sunlight streaming in through the window helping to ground her, slowly she could feel reality return to her. She tried to remind herself that it was just a dream, a nightmare, and it started to work. She felt a little silly for letting it bother her so much. She promptly got up, for there was much to do, even weeks later, there was much to do to restore Camelot and Arthur needed all the help he could get- there was no time for sitting around and dwelling on bad dreams, there were enough real problems to be getting on with.
She went about her duties as usual; supervising the re-building of various wings that had got damaged in the battle or assisting Gaius with the healing of the sick. She is no longer anyone's maidservant- if Arthur had his way she would be idle like a noble Lady. She wants to help though, to serve in her own way and he knows and accepts that. Gwen knows that what they are doing is important; already Camelot seems like a different place under Arthur's rule, the sun seems to shine brighter and it feels like a new age is beginning- one of fairness and justice.
Still, there were challenges ahead for them all; Arthur was inexperienced and although she had complete faith in his ability to rule, she knew it wasn't going to be easy.
She picked some flowers and placed them in Uther's room whilst he was sleeping, replacing yesterday's bunch. She didn't know whether he noticed, he spent most of his hours in slumber, but she did it anyway; after all she did it for Arthur's sake not his, she had no great love of Uther. For a brief moment she was reminded of Morgana and of her night-terror. She shuddered and pushed it again to the back of her mind, reminding herself again that it wasn't real.
That night she dined alone with Arthur as has become routine, old rules and customs were but a distant memory now and it seemed perfectly natural that they should do so despite any difference in status. To his men he was a stoic; the leader, fearless and impassive. He was doing a good job of acting the part to his people, but with Gwen he allows himself to relate his fears, to lay his insecurities out in the open.
"Gaius says there is no change in his condition," Arthur said, shoulders tense, the burden of worry very apparent,
"Give it time," Gwen reassures him, as she is prone to do. But in reality, she doesn't know that it will get better, the struggles of the mind were so much more complex than any disease of the body.
Arthur sighs, heavily. "I just keep hoping that one day he'll get up and he'll be normal again. But the incident with Morgana, it's broken him; I don't know if he'll ever fully recover."
There's nothing she can say, instead she lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and gently touches her lips to his, hoping he can find some comfort in her, some strength.
Camelot was far from perfect yet but she could feel the future like a gentle breeze on a summer's day, the future was right there in front of their eyes, and she knew they could make it if they tried.
That night she dreamt again.
It's raining heavily, fat raindrops hitting her face; her dress is utterly soaked with water. It's night again, a still night, despite the rain. She's walking along the stone-paved streets, clutching her basket with her cold-numbed fingers. She can hear the sounds of laughter and chatter from inside the houses and the taverns; she knocks at various doors, hoping to take shelter somewhere until the rain subsides. But every door is closed to her, the people inside don't even seem to hear her, they are unconcerned, warm and happy. The delicious scents waft from the houses and Gwen suddenly realises how hungry she is.
She increases her speed, the Castle will be open to her, and then she can get herself dry. She walks through its gates, untroubled by the guards who stand like statues, walking a familiar course automatically, passing room after room, doors all shut.
She stops before the only open door, hesitating on the threshold.
Morgana's chambers.
She doesn't want to go in there, she hasn't been there since Morgana left Camelot, but there doesn't seem to be a choice.
Nervously, she steps into the room, wary of any lingering evil. But it's just a room like any other and Gwen relaxes momentarily. It seems perfectly safe and she's grateful of the shelter from the rain. She takes off her dress and opens the wardrobe, choosing some warm breeches and a tunic- Morgana's old riding gear.
After she's changed, she sits at the table that's laid with a plate of fresh food- still hot. She doesn't question it, just dig in, frantically, she's never been so hungry as this. It tastes like nothing she's ever eaten before but she recognises the taste from somewhere, buried deep in the past.
She jumps as the door slams, she runs back to it, slamming her fists into the wood but it's held fast. It's dark, the motion extinguished the candle and the room is all of a sudden unwelcoming.
She turns around, knowing who she'll see there.
"Hello Gwenevere," Morgana says, a sharp edge to her voice.
"Morgana…"
"I see you've made yourself at home."
"I just…I had no choice, there was no-where else," Gwen protests, knowing that there's no adequate explanation for her presence there.
"I know."
Then Morgana's lips are on hers and she can taste the salty sweetness of the blood brushed over Morgana's lips like lipstick; their hands entwined to make them as one being. She can feel the rhythm of Morgana's heart and she feels like she's dancing to its beat, revelling.
After what feels like a lifetime she breaks away, feeling oddly bereft.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want you to know how it feels," Morgana replies and there's such vulnerability in her eyes.
When Gwen woke, it was with the memory of those eyes fixed in her mind like a charm. Two dreams of Morgana in two nights, it hardly bode well. Gwen tried to set the memory aside, but she was finding it harder than she had the previous day, it just seemed a little strange to be coincidence.
That's it for this chapter; I hope to have the next one up fairly soon. Please, please, review!