"Call me, Gwen. If you ever need me, call for me and I swear I'll come for you."
Gwen's eyes brimmed with tears as the long faded words echoed in the increasingly dark depths of her mind. There had always been so much left unsaid between the two women, yet those words had made Gwen feel in that moment like that needn't be changed; like maybe, just maybe, Morgana understood how her maid felt. Gwen wondered where the young sorceress was now, if she was okay. Secretly, she hoped she was. She rolled onto her side, sick of staring blankly at the ceiling and waiting in vein for the tears to stop.
She remembered the times Morgana called for her, in the dead of night with terror glazing her eyes and tears spilling down her pale cheeks.
The things she saw as she slept haunted her even in the daylight hours, sometimes to the extent where she would shut herself away and refuse to tell Gwen what it was she had witnessed behind closed eyes. Gwen often wondered if Morgana had seen it coming, what became of her and Arthur. If one of those times when Morgana 'didn't want to talk about it' was because she had seen how it would all end for Gwen. Certainly, lying where she was in the cold of her room in the monotonous village she was forced to live in, she hoped not. She hoped, even after everything, that Morgana wouldn't have just left her to such a fate without any warning.
Gwen sighed, reaching under her pillow and pulling out the little silver necklace she had always kept there. Before Morgana had left she'd given it to Gwen as a birthday present and Gwen had always cherished it. It made her feel better to hold it. It was all she had left of the days when everything was okay, the days where she could allow herself to pretend that someone as perfect as Morgana Pendragon could ever feel anything for her maid. The tears continued to escape as Gwen traced her thumb over the tiny engraved swirls engraved into the precious metal of the pendant, blazing their way down her face and soaking slowly into her pillow. She couldn't remember how long she'd done this for; woken by nightmares in the bleak darkness of her room, cried her heart out over a love that should never have been allowed to grow as far as it did, fallen back into a restless sleep and then woken late, miserable and just as exhausted as when she'd retired to bed the evening before. But she kept on doing it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't let herself forget her feelings for Morgana and slowly it was killing her. What made it worse was that she barely ever spared a thought for Arthur. They should be married now, she should have been crowned queen.
I'm even starting to sound like Morgana. She thought sadly.
She pushed herself up from the fetal position she'd assumed and ran her hands through her hair. She wanted so badly to get out of the rut she was in. She didn't think as she got dressed, pulling on the first dress she found, still struggling against the tears. She slipped her necklace over her head and then a fastened her cloak around her shoulders, pulling her hood up and crossing to the door which opened out onto the street.
The night air was cool against her tear stained face as Gwen stepped out of the house. The world was dark and silent around her. Tendrils of smoke rose languidly from burned out braziers, and penned live- stock slept serenely in little huddled clumps. Gwen left the village as swiftly as she could, hiding her face behind her hood, her eyes flitting between the uneven ground and the tree line she was headed for. A few times she considered turning back, running to the relative safety of her room but chose to ignore her inner voice- so far, all it had ever done was lead her further and further into a never ending mess and she was determined to do something which wasn't totally influenced by the 'right'. Not that there was anything very 'bad' about going for a walk in a forest in the dark, more stupid. When she reached the shadowed tree line, Gwen looked back. The tiny settlement still slept- no one missed her.
With a sigh, she turned her back on it, stepping into the undergrowth of the woods. She blundered her way through brambles and knotted roots, catching her soft skin on thorns perhaps more than she realised. For a time, she did her best to sweep carefully aside each spike and nettle, but the longer she tried, the more frustrated she became, resorting to ripping and clawing at them in desperation to get them off of her and keep moving further into the looming trees. After ten minutes of fighting a losing battle, Gwen slumped down against a moss-shod tree. The village was out of sight, and all around her was the alien sounds of animals which did their best to tease the darker side of her imagination into conjuring all sorts of frightening images.
What am I doing? She thought miserably. Sat in an unguarded forest in the middle of the night, wishing to be with a sorceress who hates me. Have I finally lost my mind?
She started to cry again, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her forehead against them, her hood blinkering her entirely. Trees rustled above her as the wind whispered mournfully. Gwen decided it sounded almost like the very forest was debating her sanity, her stability. Tears dripped down her face and onto the soft red fabric of her dress.
"Morgana..." Gwen whispered to the night.
Silence answered her plea and Gwen squeezed her eyes closed. She wished with everything she had to take it back to all those moons ago, when life was simple and her only worry was waking her lady up on time to attend court, or making sure everything was tidy and clean. She remembered it as if it were yesterday but at the same time, it felt like a lifetime ago. "I wish you were here..." she said softly.
"I am." A gentle voice whispered back.