Author's Note: Set around the end of season 3. Written for Femslash February.
From the moment she had first seen Morgause, Morgana had felt something change within her, something profound and terrifying. It was slow, this change, but it was more complete than anything she had felt before.
It had been nothing like this with Gwen. Nothing at all. Her affair with Gwen had been all soft touches and whispered words. Gwen's words, and her own, were of adoration, and what she had at the time thought of as love. But that wasn't love. It was a childish game. It had been gentle, whispered, and weak. It couldn't, wouldn't have lasted. It would have sucked the life out of her just as surely as it would have had Guinevere's lips been lacquered with hemlock. She knew that now. Because now she knew what love really was. Burning passion, insatiable desire, completeness. A connection so profound that distance was no obstacle; that laws and territories and the secrets of their blood and kin meant nothing. They grew together, she and Morgause, just as surely as they grew apart. She would never be held back, here, never be so naive again as to think that the world didn't owe her what she knew she could take.
Gwen had handled her as if she were made of glass; soft kisses on softer pillows. Morgause's love had never been soft, had never seen pillows or sought comfort. Morgause knew Morgana's power, respected her strength as no one ever had - she was not afraid of hurting her, of breaking or tarnishing her. Even the first time they had come together in love, in passion; Morgana recalled the hard, cold stone of the wall against her back, the roughness if its texture grabbing at her hair and irreparably damaging her dress.
From the second Morgause's fingers had first entered her, against the wall of her bedchamber, she had owned her. They owned each other. They were bound together by blood and by magic and now by this. She had seen the same thing in Morgause's eyes - she had felt the connection, too. They drew power from each other as they drew moans. It was the power of the Old Religion, that which was dark and more beautiful than Uther and his vile subjects could ever appreciate. What she felt with Morgause went beyond love, transcended the physical. It was Destiny itself which had brought them back together, and only Destiny which could part them. If Destiny was her master, Morgause was her mistress.
With Morgause at her side, she was suddenly awake. After years of servitude, of being placatory and pathetic, of standing in Arthur's shadow and in the background of the Court, Morgana finally knew herself. She knew her power, and Morgause had shown her what that meant. She supposed that some probably saw it as a corruption; for what else could it be for a soul so kind and good to be turned so? But those people were fools. What they didn't know was that this was her path, her true Destiny. Morgause had freed her. Freed her from herself, from Uther, from Camelot, from mediocrity. Her whole life, she had been taken advantage of, kept in 'her place', been condescended and lied to. No longer, Morgause had said to her. This world is ours, sweet sister. Yours and mine. Morgause had shown her the cruelty of the world, but also the beauty, the power. She'd shown her who she was and who she could be. She wasn't afraid anymore.
They would be together, she and Morgause, forever, whatever the cost. Whatever their forever was.
