Author's Note: I'm sort of basing Morgana's character off her actions in The Dark Tower and the puppet queen arc.
Warning: Gwen gets tortured. Right after this. I'm a terrible person.
Chapter 2: A Broken Bond
They spent weeks running from Arthur. It stopped at the villa the three of them shared at Lake Como.
Morgana led Gwen to the topmost room, the room Gwen shared with Arthur. Morgause moved a chair into the center.
"Sit, Gwen." Morgana commanded.
Gwen clenched her jaw and sat, glaring at Morgana.
Morgause took a rag and stuffed it into Gwen's mouth. "In case you get too loud." Then she took a rope and tied Gwen to the chair, only allowing her hands and forearms movement.
She came around and held Gwen's left arm to the chair as Morgana turned her right palm up. She pulled out a knife and Gwen's eyes went wide. She began to struggle but Morgause's firm grip pinned her down.
Morgana lightly ran the tip of the blade up and down Gwen's forearm. "I know what you've been doing, Gwen. You think you're so clever." Gwen looked between Morgana and the blade. Morgana never broke her gaze from Gwen as she trailed the tip along Gwen's arm. "Your connection with Arthur allows him to track where you are. Well, it's time we get my pesky brother out of your system."
At that moment, the tip was at the crook of Gwen's arm and Morgana pressed down, piercing the flesh. Gwen's body tightened as she tried to push back into the chair away from the blade. Morgana only pressed deeper, gritting her teeth, biting biting back the pain as she, too, felt what her progeny was feeling. She proceeded to drag the blade down, excruciatingly slow, slicing Gwen's arm open to the wrist. Gwen eyes were clenched shut, and she thrashed as much as she could while bound to the chair. Her screams were muffled by the rag and hot tears flowed down her face.
"Shh, my darling. Just one more time and it'll all be over."
Gwen heaved, taking deep breaths through her nose. Morgana took the rag out of her mouth and Gwen coughed.
"Please—Please, Morgana," Gwen pleaded and gulped. "I'm sorry!"
Morgana caressed Gwen's cheek in a feeble attempt to calm her and wipe away her tears. "I know it hurts. It hurts me, too, Guinevere. But this must be done." She gagged Gwen again and cut open her left arm, quicker this time, tearing through the flesh.
Morgause backed away as Gwen bled out, the two puddles of blood on opposite sides of the chair merged into one. Morgana walked behind Gwen as she stopped struggling and slumped forward. She removed the gag and Gwen let out ragged breaths.
"Mor…morgana…m'…lady…"
The sun was setting, and its rays beamed through the windows. It reflected in the dark puddle, making it glitter blood red and gold. Pendragon colors.
Gwen didn't have enough energy for her body to heal itself, and she was on the verge of passing out. Morgana pulled her up and tilted it back.
"…for the best…" she heard Morgana say before everything went black.
Arthur banged the steering wheel and let out a frustrated yell. Elyan stared straight ahead in the passenger's seat, looking defeated.
Halfway to the villa, Arthur felt a sharp pain in his chest that spread throughout his body and hit the brakes in the middle of the highway; luckily no one else was on the road. He doubled over in pain and could barely hear Elyan frantically asking what was wrong.
"Guinevere! Something's happening to her!" Arthur bit out.
"What—what's happening to my sister?" Elyan was already thinking the worst. He already had centuries of guilt over the times he's left her. He was a teenager when he left home, leaving Gwen and their guardians. He traveled for years, never settling until he met the vampire that turned him. He was a blacksmith, just like their father. He gave Elyan a home and new life. Because of that vampire, when Elyan returned to Camelot, he found Gwen blessed with immortality by the royal family. Their reunion was tearful and joyous, but for centuries she would scold him for his flighty behavior, which he deserved.
Arthur caught his breath. "I don't kn—" Another pained scream ripped from his throat.
Elyan didn't know what to do as he watched Arthur slump, sweat dripping down his forehead, trying to catch his breath and anticipate another wave of pain.
"I can't…" Arthur breathed out, chest heaving. "I can't feel her."
By the time they arrived at the villa, it was abandoned. Arthur stood outside the upstairs room, refusing to enter. He stared at the chair and the blood stained tile. It had spread into the grooves, branching away from the puddle like veins.
Elyan spoke up. "She's not dead…is she? She can't be."
"No." Arthur knew that much. "Morgana wouldn't kill her."
Elyan put the blood and Arthur's pain together. "Gwen's blood…your blood. Morgana bled her out to break your bond."
Arthur couldn't stand to be there for another second. "Let's go," he ordered.
Gwen heard the distant cry of seagulls, and felt a hand stroking her hair. She buried face deeper into the warm cushion, and heard a familiar giggle. Her eyes shot open and she sat up. She brought her hand to her mouth and could taste blood, Morgana's blood.
Morgana sat on her knees at the head of the bed, smiling, feigning innocence in a white strapless maxi dress.
Gwen looked down and found herself wearing a white dress similar to Morgana's. They were no longer in the villa, but a bright room of whites and blues and browns. Crystal blue waters could be seen outside the open shutter windows.
"We're in Greece."
Gwen turned back to Morgana.
"You were out for quite some time. My sweet Gwen, a sleeping beauty." She inched toward Gwen who scooted back, and fell off the bed. She picked herself back up too quickly and became dizzy. Morgana was by her side in an instant, and Gwen leaned heavily into her. She clung to Morgana's waist and buried her head in her chest. It was like she was turned for the first time.
"You're free of him now, Gwen," Morgana said as she stroked her hair. "We gave a fresh start."
Gwen stood outside the Louvre watching tour groups and couples leave the closing museum. There were easier places to find prey but she was already there and getting hungry.
"..English…Please speak English…" She heard a voice coming in her direction and getting louder as it came closer.
She turned around just as a man in a college t-shirt was about to tap her shoulder.
He startled. "Oh, sorry! Je suis désolé. Er, excusez-moi...or is it—" Gwen cut his rambling short.
"It's alright," she said.
He sighed in relief. "Oh thank God you speak English." She looked at him with amusement as he unfolded a map. "I'm staying at this hostel, but I can't find the street on the map. Do you think you can point me in the right direction?" He told her the name of the hostel and nearby shops, hoping she'd recognize them.
"I know exactly where that is." She wasn't lying. "I'll get you there." Eventually.
"Thank you so much," he said as they walked. "I'm John. My friends totally ditched me. Got bored, said it was lame, blah, blah, blah." He enthusiastically talked about how much fun he was having touring Europe. He just wished his friends weren't tagging along to party.
Gwen pretended to trip and as John tried to catch her, she grabbed him and purposefully stumbled into the alleyway they were in front of. She pressed him against the wall and gave him a shy smile. "Sorry."
John swallowed. "No, it's fine." He looked into the innocent eyes staring up at him. He started to feel like he was in one of those chick flicks about serendipitous romance.
"John," Gwen said slowly, soothingly, holding their gaze. "Could you do me a favor?" She traced the opening of the crew neck, her nail tickling his skin.
He nodded, enchanted.
"I'm going to feed from you, and you cannot scream. Can you do that for me, John?"
He nodded again and tilted his head to the side exposing his neck. She drank enough to satisfy her thirst and not completely weaken him. She healed the bite and looked him in the eyes again.
"This never happened, John," she said calmly, holding his head up in her hands. "If you continue straight for two blocks, you'll find your hostel on the corner." He nodded for the third time and she let him go. He had a dazed look on his face, yet he walked with a purpose out of the alley and out of site around the corner.
"That was the gentlest feed I've ever witnessed," a smooth voice said from behind her.
She turned around as a man, a vampire, came out of the shadows. He was finely dressed, black on black, tan skin, sleek dark brown hair, and matching eyes. Tall, dark, and handsome.
"You're not from around here," he stated. "A tourist feeding on another tourist."
Gwen stared back at him.
He gave a small bow. "Excuse my rudeness, mademoiselle, my name is Lancelot du Lac."
"Lancelot?"
"You can just call me Lance." He smiled at her.
They walked until they found themselves sitting at the base of the Eiffel Tower. Lance spoke of how he lost his family during the French Revolution. He lived on the streets until his maker found him. Hengist, his name was. He was a foul and crooked. He made his progenies fight each other like dogs for money until one day Lance drove a stake through his heart, freeing them. He's been on his own ever since, travelling and doing charitable work.
"What about you? Are you on your own?" Lance asked.
Gwen shook her head. "My maker's back at our hotel. I really wanted to go to the museum. It wasn't there the last time I was in Paris."
Lance leaned closer, curious. "And when was the last time you were in Paris?"
Gwen looked up at him through her eyelashes, teasing. "It was long before your time."
"How long?"
Gwen pouted as she did the math in her head. "Four hundred and fifty or so years?"
Lance was fascinated by her. "Just how old are you, exactly?"
She giggled. "You shouldn't ask a woman her age!"
"Apologies, my lady," he said before kissing her knuckles. Gwen held her breath.
Gwen slipped her hand out of his. "I'm no lady, but my maker is, and she's calling me." She stood up, brushing grass from her legs. She offered her hand to Lance.
He accepted it gratefully. "I hope we meet again. To be clear, I don't usually hang around in alleys. My apartment was a few floors up. I came down when I heard you," he confessed.
"You didn't strike me as the creepy type," Gwen said and walked away with one last look over her shoulder.
When she entered the hotel room, Morgana was sitting on the bed, legs crossed and smirking. "I understand that Paris is the city of love, but we've only just got here, Gwen."
Gwen blushed as she changed out of her clothes and into a nightshirt, and crawled under the covers. Morgana joined her and she nestled into her maker.
"So, who was he," Morgana prodded.
"He was turned during the French Revolution."
"Is he cute?" she pressed.
"Go to sleep, Morgana." Gwen half-heartedly tried to order.
Morgana poked her in the side and she squealed. "As your maker, I demand you to tell me the attractiveness of this mystery vamp!" She tickled Gwen.
Gwen flailed, laughing. "He's very handsome, my lady," she admitted. "Tall, dark, and handsome."
"Ooh, why didn't you bring him back with you?"
Gwen gave her an incredulous look.
"Right," Morgana said. "Not on the first date." She winked.
Gwen hit Morgana with her pillow before turning around, laying on her other side and closing her eyes. She felt Morgana lean over her and could imagine her grinning.
"Good night, my darling," She said, pecking Gwen on the cheek and spooning behind her.
They spent a few years in France, and Gwen saw Lance on and off. She was drawn to him, but she still kept her distance. An echo of a memory between her and Arthur would surface only to be pushed back by Morgana's voice telling her she was all she needed.
When Morgana grew bored of France, they toured Asia in the nineties and back to Europe in the new millennium, settling in Ireland.
Gwen came back from her usual early Sunday morning grocery shopping. She fell fast asleep the night before, not bothering to wait up for Morgana. She felt her presence when she awoke and figured she could get the shopping done and breakfast ready before Morgana got up. As she was bent over in the refrigerator, putting the vegetables in the crisper, she felt a presence behind her and its hands grabbed her hips. She yelped, turning around, and grabbed the man by his neck, slamming him into the table.
Morgana rushed into the kitchen in a robe, hair wet. "What happened, Gwen? Are you okay?"
"Her? What about me?" said the man pinned to the table. "Although, I really don't mind when a woman gets rough." He winked at Gwen.
Gwen let go and backed away. The Irishman was scruffy in a well kept sort of way and only in a pair of jeans riding low on his hips.
"What's going on? What did you do to her?" Morgana asked in an accusing tone while she put a comforting arm around Gwen's shoulders.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey now, it was an accident. I thought she was you."
Morgana didn't believe him. "No really," he insisted. "I went out for a smoke. When I came back in, she was bent over and…" he trailed off when he caught Morgana's glare. "Please accept my apologies." He said to Gwen.
"Er…" Gwen only managed to get out.
"I'm Gwaine," he said. "And you must be Morgana's progeny. And what a lovely girl she's sired. You must be a princess. Yes! Princess Sophia, or maybe an Esmerelda."
"It's Gwen," she said flatly.
"You know," Gwaine looked back and forth between Gwen and Morgana. "I've never had a maker and her progeny before."
Morgana snorted. "You're disgusting."
Morgana and Gwaine saw each other casually, even though they appeared to hate each other. Gwen warmed up to him, though. He'd bring her a flower from her own garden and playfully flirt with her while Morgana was getting ready for one of their benders. Eventually, Morgana and Gwaine grew tired of each other, and Morgana no longer felt like staying in Ireland anymore.
They were in an exclusive vampire pub when the decision was made to go back to England.
"Have you heard the things Pendragon's done?"
"He's brilliant!"
"Now that's a King…."
"…better than his da…"
Morgana stood, pulling Gwen with her. "It's time to go."
Gwen stared into the glass tumbler in her hands. She couldn't bring herself to drink the animal blood inside.
Arthur took the glass from her, understanding. "Morgana had you on a strictly human diet, huh? You can feed off Merlin if you'd like."
Merlin squeaked. "Hey!"
Gwen gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll be alright."
"I can't believe she let you go," Arthur said.
"Morgana never just lets things go." She looked at Arthur with worry. "I don't know what she's going to do next."
They sat in silence, trying to predict Morgana's next move.
"We should all get some sleep," Arthur concluded. "Merlin, bring Guinevere's things to the second guest bedroom." When Merlin was out of site, Arthur turned back to Gwen. "I never stopped searching for you. When Morgana broke the bond, I felt it. Every fiber of my being was being ripped apart, but I never stopped searching." He remembered the villa. "I'll make her pay for what she's done to you."
Gwen leaned into him. Her head tucked into his chest, her fingers played with the buttons on his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her hair. Despite being so close, they both felt a disconnect. Gwen was acting on memory. She knew she'd feel comfort and security in his arms, but not why, not yet. Morgana's influence still affected her.
Arthur could tell by the way Gwen held herself that she wasn't completely there. She skimmed the details of Morgana's reign of terror, and he could see the internal battle she was having whenever she displayed emotion toward him. When she stepped into his arms at the doorway, she held herself in the position she was in now. It allowed him the comfort he needed, to have her in his arms, but she couldn't reciprocate. In some way, Morgana still managed to win.
For now.
"I have to take care of a few things at the Authority." Arthur muttered into her hair. "Then come the weekend, we're going to Avalon."
A/N: What? Avalon? More will be explained in the next chapter thati'mmakingupasigoalong
Apologies if you were upset/offended at the beginning. Please don't hate me!
Thank you for reading