Gwen/Merlin/Morgana threesome, with focus on Gwen/Morgana; mention of Merlin/Arthur. Season One Alternate Timeline.
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Merlin, I don't own the characters, I just borrow them for fun and no profit.
The Flowers and the Bird
They make light dance for her, and colours swirl into shapes.
They sit in Morgana sunlit room, on her large bed, its soft covers all tussled up, and oh, Merlin's presence here would look so, so bad if they were discovered now. And she can't say she doesn't care, she worries for Morgana, but – she's happy too, there is no denying that, and her own presence might be enough of a shield in any case.
Merlin, as it happens, is chastely sitting across of them, on the other end of the bed near the head, legs crossed, grin wide and exited as he thinks about the his next move. Morgana is half-sitting half-kneeling right in front of her, so Gwen can, anytime she wants to, wrap her arms around her, kiss her hair, her neck, her shoulder, if there was any chance Morgana wouldn't have turned to meet her lips by then.
Yet at the moment, they keep their contact to Gwen's hands on Morgana's shoulders, and Gwen's knees pushing a little against her back, almost by accident. Morgana needs this, or at least she's much better when she has it: Gwen's tangible presence, her hands, her voice, the knowledge that she's there. Her lady is far from having Merlin's control; but she's learning.
Without needing to see, Gwen knows that right now, Morgana has her eyes shut in concentration; she can pinpoint the exact moment when she opens them, and not just by the look of anticipation that crosses Merlin's face; there's a drawing in, a concentrated tension to her body, and then her hand springs forwards and she speaks the words.
Shimmering flowers erupt from her open palm; Gwen learns sideward to see them better: they gleam in the sunlight, deep red sprinkled with back dots, yellow tendrils in the middle, the petals long and thin. Gwen stars at them; it's not just the flowers themselves, though those are beautiful, it's the way they're made of nothing but tweaked light, and how Morgana called them up with mind and speech...
"You did it!" Merlin says, his grin even wider than before, and Gwen smiles to herself at the adoration in his eyes. She can feel Morgana relax under her; she lowers her hand, and the flowers twinkle and blink out of existence. Without needing to think, the two of them draw closer to each other, until Gwen has an arm around her Lady's waist and her head resting on her shoulder.
"Yes," Morgana says and raises up her chin. "Can you do better?"
A while ago, Merlin would have protested that this isn't what this is about; now he just smiles mischievously; for a moment, his eyes meet Gwen's, then he looks back at Morgana.
"Of course I can," he says. "Gwen, what do you want to see next?"
"Anything," Gwen says.
Merlin gives her a look that clearly tells her he's not fooled about her vagueness, but of course he's already thought of something. He too screws his eyes shut for a moment, a clear sign that this is going to be more than a mere illusion. Then he opens them, and they are glowing golden, his irises swimming in fire. He doesn't speak. He holds his hands up, and Gwen can feel something soar through the room even though everything seems still. The curtain at the window flaps innocently in the wind.
Then it happens: somethingis drawn from every corner of the room, floors and windowsill and fine wooden furniture, converging between Merlin's hands. Gwen has raised her head from Morgana's shoulder to watch, and she realises what it is instants before Merlin completes the spell: every bit of the room suddenly looks pristine clean.
Merlin's hands caress the air around his ball of dust, and when he draws them back there is a bird sitting there, flapping its grey dust wings. It rises, opens its beak in a silent cry, and lands on Gwen's shoulder, where it begins to clean its feathers. Dust falls down over Gwen's shoulder.
She's still craning her neck staring at it, when she hears Morgana snort.
"Gwen liked my flowers better," she says.
The bird is rapidly decomposing already, and Gwen quickly shoos it away, so it won't do so above her or the bed. As it leaves from her shoulder, Gwen detangles herself from Morgana and lets herself fall onto the bed.
"I didn't," she says.
"You liked the bird better?" says Merlin, eager; the look he gives her is eager as well, like she's waited for it to be for so long.
"I like them both," Gwen says; she's a horrible competition judge; she doesn't care.
She's tried entering the competition too, they tried teaching her, but she doesn't have the gift. She never wanted magic; she used to fear magic, and now she fears it still, for different reasons, for what it can do to those she loves. She can think of a hundred situations now where being one of them would be practical, so she can't help but feel a little disappointment; but the two of them, they love their magic like it isn't a part of themselves, the very reason why Gwen loves in them, and she can't even imagine feeling that way for something strange and often uncontrollable living inside her; so maybe she really wasn't meant to have that gift.
"Draw," Morgana declares, but her heart clearly isn't in it; Gwen's words, putting an end to this round for good, have changed the atmosphere, pulled the ties between them closer; Merlin must feel it, because he uncrosses his legs and comes closer by the simple act of lying down, his head suddenly resting there, right next to them.
Maybe she sounds a little annoyed, her Lady; Gwen sometimes wonders if she really means "who do you like best?" when she asks the question; Gwen refuses to indulge her, but later, at night, she might whisper, you you you, because as much as she loves Merlin, Morgana is her world, and certainly not because that's supposed to be part of her job – she's been a servant long enough to know that. Merlin might know, but he'd understand, he with his stupid, adorable, unwavering love for Arthur.
She shuffles around a bit so she can kiss Merlin, with their heads upside down, and it's awkward and wet and fun; Merlin's tongue is prickling with magic from his recent spell, or maybe he's doing is on purpose. Morgana is sitting above them like a benevolent goddess.
"Do you mind?" Merlin asks, looking up at Morgana.
She looks blank for a moment, then has to smile and shakes her head.
"Show-off," she says, but without bite.
Merlin grins at her, and then at Gwen, before his eyes turn golden again, and a play of indistinct, coloured light erupts just beneath the bed's ceiling, glittering in rainbow-colours.
Gwen stares at the display. All her life she's been taught to fear and hatemagic!... She knows the smile she gives Merlin is endlessly tender.
"That's – I mean, it –" She breaks off. Merlin looks gratified anyway.
Morgana is running a hand through Merlin's hair, and from beneath Gwen can clearly see the fall and rise of her chest. She feels she could happily spend all her days like this, and there are so many of them ahead of her. They're playing with fire, of course, but she is glad to have this, glad Morgana gets this help and the two of them this freedom.
Merlin kisses her again, and Morgana flops down next to her on her stomach, very unladylike.
"Thank you, Gwen," she whispers, as if to keep this from Merlin, though of course he can hear. "For your help.
Gwen smiles and leans against her. Eventually, she knows, Morgana will not need her anymore for her magic; but she's more than happy to help her reach that point.