This chapter will contain Morgana/Morgause. Despite this being technically incestuous, I believe this would not have been frowned upon in the Old Religion, and thus would have been more open.
I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 12
In some bizarre fashion, the new nightly arrangement became routine. She felt herself stiffen less each time Morgause's arm slipped around her as they lay together, or hold her waist during their continued sparring practise. Sometimes, she even missed the pressure there, when her sister would rise early in the morning, or decide Morgana's stance had improved to almost perfection. She would find herself, sometimes, stood staring as the blonde Priestess would practise her magic in the courtyard, or even as she sat reading. She told herself she was merely studying her sister, the way her blonde curls cascaded down her back, the way the crimson network of her sleeves clung to her skin like spiders' webs, the way her lips parted as she muttered dark incantations, but it was more than that. For something awoke within her. Some feeling that both repulsed and enchanted her. A feeling that she hated, yet felt she'd waited all of her life to feel, and now could not live without it. Her heart would pound, she would catch herself smiling for nothing, yet her palms would sweat and her stomach would heave. Like nothing she had ever felt before. And it all revolved about this woman.
'When can I begin to practise magic, Morgause? Truly, not simply reading it. I wish to learn, so that, one day, I might be as great as you are.'
Morgause laughed, a light sound, a laugh one might expect from someone who did not spend her mornings in sword training, and thought nothing of sacrifice for her cause. But, a sound that Morgana did not think she heard enough from her sister's lips. 'I am nothing that you shall not one day surpass, my Sister. You have a great Destiny; I am here merely to help you succeed at keeping it.'
'You're more than that, Morgause. You are too great to be simply that.' Morgana smiled, leaning back slightly as the pair sat just outside the castle walls, taking in the last of the Autumn sun on a grassy slope. Just behind her, Morgause was sat against the trunk of an oak, her crimson skirts spread out, a stark contrast to the emerald beneath her. Across her lap, her glittering sword was laid, one hand clutching the handle, the other elegantly polishing the blade, until Morgana could swear it was cleaner than her looking glass. Yet, she was focused purely on Morgana.
'My own Destiny matters little to me, Morgana. All I care about is protecting you, and yours,' she said, placing her sword beside her as she did. Then she smiled, opening her arms as if to a child. 'Come here.'
From under thick eyelashes, Morgana's eyes looked across at her disdainfully. 'I am not your child, Sister.'
'But, you are one of my own, Morgana. And I mean to protect you as such,' the blonde explained, her tone winning the brunette over and she moved up to her sister's side, lying back so her head rested on Morgause's scarlet lap and her long hair spread out behind her like a dark halo. Instantly, the Priestess began stroking the ebony locks, causing Morgana to close her eyes and sigh contentedly. 'Besides, Sister, we are all we have left in this World. I think I have every right to protect you as well as I possibly can.'
Her hand was now running slowly down Morgana's cheek, caressing her lightly, unconsciously sending a shiver down Morgana's spine. 'My Destiny must be important if you do not care about your own, Sister.'
'But, of course.' Morgause frowned lightly. 'You are to be Queen of Camelot. We will overthrow Uther, cast down his weak son, and you will take your place as both High Priestess and Ruler of the greatest land in the Five Kingdoms. And you will reintroduce magic to the Kingdom, you will save the persecuted and all shall have freedom. Everything will be like how it was in the time of the Old Religion. And you will be loved, Morgana, you will be so loved.'
'I have never been loved. Not truly. My father tried, but he saw too much of Vivian in me. And I have only ever been the Ward of Camelot, a guest, never truly welcome,' Morgana said, bitterly, her eyes flicking open to stare straight ahead, her lips in a thin, straight line. 'My maidservant, Gwen, seemed to commandeer hearts like ships, yet I could only ever play the part. And I don't think any amount of magic will ever change that, Morgause.'
'You underestimate yourself, my Sister.' Morgause smiled, her hand still resting on Morgana's pale cheek. 'You are more important than you will ever realise. Your maidservant is nothing, but you are destined to be the saviour of all those of the Old Religion. You will symbolise all their hopes, and dreams. Camelot as you know it will fall; you need worry no more about any of those who did not welcome you. So long as you remember your Destiny, you will know that you will always be needed and loved.'
The words left Morgana speechless. Never had she imagined this Priestess would be so passionate about her Destiny, the Ward of Camelot, always second to Uther's precious Crown Prince. But, she cared, she cared more than anyone had ever cared about Morgana, and she could think of nothing to say. So, instead, she felt herself nuzzling slightly into the hand resting on her cheek, letting her eyes slip shut as she brushed against the soft skin of her sister's palm. Despite the fierce sword training, they were miraculously smooth. Or maybe that was her imagination. For, right then, her sister had no flaws.
'Besides, my Sister, it is only you who commandeers my heart,' Morgause whispered, dangerously delicate. And Morgana could feel her heart against its bony cage, threatening to rip through her chest, as she sat up slowly. Within her, she could feel something stirring, something almost primitive, as she looked on the doe eyed blonde, whose eyes were filled with a deep, dark mystery. And Morgana could feel her hand reaching out, fingering one of the Priestess's long curls, spun gold in the low, Autumn sun, before running a hand lightly down her slim face. And then, they were both leaning in, lips close enough to feel each other's shallow breaths against their faces, chestnut meeting peridot gaze, golden curls meeting raven tresses. And then, Morgana was running down the slope, towards the castle, and the safety of her chambers, leaving Morgause sat alone, heart sinking and a diamond tear slipping slowly down her cheek, where Morgana's hand had been only moments before.
Unsurprisingly, she found the wooden door to Morgana's chambers locked as she attempted to enter that night. And she could feel her own castle turning against her as she stood there, the wood an enemy against her palms as she pushed heavily, putting almost her whole body weight behind her efforts. Then, reluctantly, as if her hands were made of iron, impossible to lift, she knocked twice against her own door, barred against her. After a few seconds, she heard the heavy bolt moving, and the door opened slightly, just enough for her to see a cold, peridot eye, shining in the evening darkness of the room.
'My Sister, I do not understand. What is this for?'
'Do not call me that, Morgause. You are no more my sister than you are my friend. You are my captor, you took me from Camelot.'
'Morgana, I do not understand your sudden change of heart.' She had managed to snake a hand around the crack in the door, pushing it open so she could enter, forcing Morgana to step back, turning so she was now facing the window, if only not to look upon the blonde Priestess.
'I wish to return to Camelot, in the morning.' Her tone remained cold, as icy as when she had first realised their true bond. Yet, somehow, colder. For now, Morgana was so much more important to her, with every word spoke against her from Morgana's lips as painful as a sword slice to the skin.
'You will return to Camelot, the Kingdom you were plotting happily to destroy only hours ago. You would choose to live under fear once more, under Uther. But why?'
'My reasons are of no concern to you.' Morgana finally turned back as she spoke, her face emotionless as she looked upon the woman before her, a look that Morgause had only ever seen in her face before when she spoke of Uther. 'You cannot refuse me, Morgause; I am the Ward of Camelot.'
'Not here, you aren't.' Every fibre of her being wanted her to run towards her sister, take her ghostly pale hands in her own, once more. For this must not be Morgana talking, they were her lips moving, but not her words. All she needed was to hold her once more, protect her as she said she would. But, that would be weak. And weakness would get her killed. When she finally spoke again, her voice was icier than the coldest Winter. 'Tomorrow, you shall return to Camelot, live under King Uther, and let your Destiny collapse. It is no longer a concern of mine.'
She turned, the soft material of her gown flying out like some sort of tail. Some monster's tail, from how heavy her heart felt as she was leaving her sister's chambers. From behind, she heard Morgana speak, quietly, her voice thawed with emotion. 'You will not sleep here, tonight.'
The blonde turned slightly, unable to tell if her sister was ordering, or questioning her. Though, that hardly mattered to her, not now. 'No, I will not sleep tonight, anyway.'
The scent of dust from the musty, yellow pages of the book filled her nostrils as she sat, hunched over the ancient text before her. A single unlit candle sat in front of her, the light from the room came only from the full moon, low in the sky through the bare window. She'd changed from her gown to her breeches the moment she'd left her sister, as if trying to shake all evidence of the morning, and the actions that had lost her Morgana.
She frowned, a sudden boiling of anger in her stomach, and pushed the book away from her, causing it to collide with the candle and both fell from the table with a clatter. At the sudden noise, she felt all emotion seep out of her, as if shocked she had caused it all, and her head sunk to rest on her arms on the wooden table. She did not need this, any of this. The books that surrounded her on all sides in her dark library, the empty night outside the window, with its lonely moon reminding her all too much of herself, the sister that lay asleep above her in the castle somewhere, preparing to leave her…
No, she was a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess; she did not need this self-pity. She had been brought up amongst the strongest women in the Kingdom, who never let anything stand between them and their duty, not even the threat of execution. That was the legacy she now carried. Morgause smiled, a slight wicked curl of the lips, she could take Camelot easily enough. The Knights of Medhir had almost conquered it for her, until her own weakness had prevented a final victory. That would not happen again. With a more formidable army, she could take Camelot; live Morgana's Destiny for her, if she would not do it herself. A new rush of adrenaline pounding through her veins, she stood, scanning the bookshelves for what she desired. A long finger running over the leather spines lightly, until she eventually pulled out a thick text, coated in dust. But that did not concern her. The Priestess laid it on the table heavily, flicking through the age damaged pages quickly until she found what she wanted. The Cup of Life. All she'd need was a larger army, and then she could overthrow Uther easily enough. After all, he'd taken the crown using only brute strength. What was stopping her doing the same? She could return to Cenred, not as his physician, but as his equal. He had an army, she'd have the power to take Uther's Kingdom, both would be victors. She felt her lips curl into a villainous smirk; both would be victors until she forced him to repay his debt to her, anyway. Blood for blood.
But, she felt her mind flick back to the raven haired woman sleeping above her. Even with the adrenaline that had been pounding her body only seconds before, she still felt her heart sink slightly. Morgana had showed such promise, such passion. The way she was beginning to master the sword like a brutal dance, a dance of life and death, rather than a child's game. They way her peridot eyes would light up when she'd be reading, a way of letting Morgause know she was learning so much she'd never known before. The way her cheeks would be warm, despite their porcelain appearance, against Morgause's palms. She had been so certain of her, so certain she felt about her with the same fire Morgause felt towards her.
One last look in on her. Just one last view of her in the castle, as she slept just as she had the night Morgause had left their mother's bracelet for her. As peaceful as the night she had chosen to hand her allegiance to Morgause, in the woods with the moon hanging over them not unlike how it did now. That could not hurt, surely?
Bare feet against cold stone as she climbed the twisting tower to reach Morgana's chambers. All candles were out, casting her into darkness as she stepped closer and closer to this final farewell. She'd see her in the morning, yes, and for the next two days as she returned her to Uther's icy grip, but that would not be the girl she knew. That wouldn't be her sister. It was now, as she lay, all her guards down, open, that Morgause could truly claim her.
Hands pushing on wood, the door opening slowly and a sigh of relief that she had left the door unlocked after Morgause had left earlier. Yet, a candle was still flickering beside the girl's bed. Morgana's empty bed. Morgause padded softly into the room, chestnut orbs wide at the perfectly made bed, and the absence of her sister. Might she have already left? She should never have left her alone, not in the state she was in. She needed caring for, not clumsy rage and vengeful plotting. Morgana needed her help, not her humanity. How was she to achieve her Destiny if she felt betrayed by the one chosen to help her?
A shadow moved by the window. A shadow that sat on the windowsill like a lost child. Large peridot eyes met hers as she turned slightly, set in a pale face lit by an ethereal glow from the moonlight outside the bare window. Even in the limited light, Morgause could see the glisten of tears on her cheeks, the way her arms were wrapped around her legs, pulling them close for comfort. On seeing her, Morgana felt a choking in her throat, her eyes welling up once more.
'I never meant anything I said, Morgause. I'm sorry.' She knew she should not be this weak, but words tumbled out in the desperation of a beggar, and she could control herself no longer. 'I don't know what happened to me, what is happening to me. I haven't felt this, not before. Something in me has just changed, I can't explain it. It's been since I left Camelot, since I was poisoned. What if the poison has changed me? What if I can never get better? Get back to how I was?'
'My Sister,' Morgause said as she took a cautious step forward, feeling her heart beating fast enough to almost rip out of her ribcage, with endless compassion for the girl sat before her. 'Hemlock does not have such effects. It is a poison. It cannot change you.'
'But, it could be, couldn't it? You can't be certain.'
'Morgana, there is nothing wrong with you.' The blonde was knelt by her side, looking up at her with wide eyes, a hand against her cheek, holding her carefully. 'You are tired, that is all.'
'No, Sister, you don't understand.' Morgana shook her head, attempting to move back against the window, away from the warm fingers against her icy cheeks, and the golden curls more white in the moon's glow. 'It was Merlin, and the poison, that has made me feel this. I cannot return to Camelot, I would be killed for this. It is not just magic anymore, Morgause. The healing bracelet cannot help me. I'm scared, Morgause, I'm so scared. And it was Merlin, all Merlin's fault.' Morgause could feel her heart dropping as she felt the tears wet against her fingers, still against her sister's cheek. Or maybe it was the way this boy's name seemed to slide off her sister's tongue, the same way a river would glide over her skin as she stepped in a river to bathe.
'Morgana…'
'My stomach is tied in the hangman's noose. I can feel myself choking sometimes, fighting for breath, my heart beating like a war drum. Something is wrong with me, isn't it? I need to hear it, Morgause. I don't know what to do.' Morgana was almost shaking, from the cold glass against her back, from the flood of emotion that seemed to be overwhelming her that, like a measly dam, she could never hope to control. Yet, she had to look up from her lap, to meet the chestnut orbs boring into her. 'I'm scared, Morgause. For all of this is only when I see you.'
And then the blonde was kneeling up, until her head was equal to the raven haired girl before her. Eyes closed as she leant in, until their lips met and were together. She felt the soft touch of Morgana's lips against hers; her hand still against her sister's cheek, the touch just to remind her she was still there, that all of this was still real.
Sudden absence, emptiness, as she felt lips pull away from her own, and found Morgana's furious gaze upon her, her peridot eyes glittering like hard stone. 'You had no right.'
'But, tell me that is not what you wanted, Morgana.'
When their lips met again, it was Morgana's hand deep in the Priestess' golden mane, pulling her head closer as she pushed her lips harder against Morgause's. It was not like before. Their first kiss was retrained compared to the dance they seemed to be performing this time. Everything felt more passionate, dropping all tension as Morgause pulled Morgana to her feet, enveloping her in slender arms, though strong enough to remind Morgana of the security they provided. And she could not say how long they were there, though it felt like the whole night had passed, the moonlight still caught them in its embrace as they pulled apart.
She could feel herself panting slightly, a feeling bubbling within her, filling her with something unknown to her. But, it was not unknown to her, not now. Not as she looked on the golden warrior before her. 'I know nothing, Morgause.'
'I know very little,' Morgause managed to say, before she found herself once more at Morgana's lips, one hand entangled in her long, raven curls, the other at her lower back, almost in support as she pushed further into the Priestess' body, until she could feel her sister's breasts against her own. Then, her hand was snaking down Morgana's back, finding the corset ribbon used to tie the dress, and she was pulling at the bow, undoing it, loosening it, until she had to step back from Morgause to shrug the material off so she stood only in her thin under-gown. Quicker than Morgause thought was possible, pale fingers were clutching at her shirt, pulling it over her head, causing her golden curls to tumble down her bare back. Morgana stepped back once more, taking in a full look at Morgause, bare under her shirt. She had never seen another woman's body before, Gwen had seen her enough times as she helped her dress and bathe, but the sight was new to her, and she had not expected to be so captivated. The soft curve of her breasts, dark nipples that she could not resist running a finger over, feeling them harden under her touch. She was still lightly circling them when Morgause put her hand over the brunette's, pushing it harder over her breast. She was firm, surprisingly so, yet softer than Morgana expected from her sister's muscular form. Her sister. She felt her hand drop, as if made of lead, and she stepped back, head spinning like the swirling eye of a storm.
'Morgause, how can this be right? We share a mother...'
'The Old Religion ties us together closer than blood, Morgana.' Morgause stepped closer, her hands closing around the dark haired girl's shaking palms. 'The High Priestesses knew that. The Old Religion will always join us.'
'And the High Priestesses condoned it?'
A slim hand reached up to caress her cheeks, skin ghost white in the light of the full moon. 'My Sister, the High Priestesses knew that to fight such feelings would be worth nothing. For such feelings are as old as the magic that binds the World around us, and runs within the blood that we share.'
And then pale arms were wrapped around her once more, fingers trailing down her back, as their lips met. Morgana could hear her own heart beating in her ears as she felt her hands lower, moving like serpents over the blonde's hips, before pulling on the cords of her breeches until they slipped down, past the hair between the top of her thighs that was so much darker than her golden curls, to expose strong, lean legs. Morgause's lips ran across her shoulders, brushing aside the straps of her under-dress with carefully delicate caress until it fell from her slender frame to a shimmering pool by her feet, giving the impression she had risen from water, like a mythical water nymph or Lady of the Lake. She was pale, so much paler than Morgause's own body, her skin so white it reminded her of the snow she used to watch fall from the Isle of the Blessed when she was a child. She used to wonder at it then, but now she could do nothing but cradle her sister's face as they both stood there, opposite each other's naked forms. And Morgana knew she should feel defenceless, exposed, but she could feel nothing but strength as she moved with the blonde Priestess, skin against skin, lips against lips, limbs entangled, crumpling bedsheets beneath them.
Their first encounter was nothing like how it had been with Cenred. Nothing like their drunken, clumsy encounter, at each other with an animalistic passion, as violent as hatred, which had left Morgause with nothing more than a pounding head and a dull pain the following day. No. With Morgana it was all entwined fingers and deep, delicious kisses. Fingertips searching and exploring each other's bodies, along every curve, every cavern, as though venturing maiden lands. And their hands would clutch at each other's sweating figures, in a desperate need for closeness that took them both by surprise. Lying there, she had no vengeance, no Destiny, just the peace that overwhelmed her every time the brunette's lips met her skin.
Theladyofice- Wow, thank you so much. I've tried to write her more human, rather than just being focused solely on Camelot and revenge and stuff.
Alice J- Thank you, it's really nice to hear I've warmed you to her. I loved her on the show, but wanted to give her a bit more story :)
Dragons of Egypt- Wow, the best Merlin story? I'm actually so shocked at that. I just really wanted to give her more story, and more character than she was sometimes given on the show. And I loved her bond with Morgana, I hope I painted them both in the best light.
