Warning: semi-explict femslash (Gwen/Morgana) in this chapter near the end.
As Morgana's handmaiden for many years, Gwen knew that her lady had quite the temper. It was always best to give her time to cool off. When Morgana had made her mind up, Gwen doubted that anything short of magic would be able to change it. It was also because Morgana had her 'special dreams' – the ones that Gwen knew could tell her mistress things that no one else could possibly know – it took someone with courage and conviction to defy the future that destiny insists on.
Gwen thinks on this as she shuffles to the laundry room with practiced ease. There she retrieves Morgana's oft-worn purple and blue dress so she can fix the frying hem. It was much easier to spin broken threads together or to sew up a splitting seam. Morgana's new blood-red gown is loose and needs to be taken in. The gown had been tailored using measurements that had been taken only three months ago. Gwen did worried away at her lip as she did the stitches. Just as she finishes the last of the sewing and the sun has dropped in the sky, she goes to the kitchen to bring dinner to her lady.
"I thought you'd be hungry, my lady. I brought you dinner. You skipped tea earlier but I didn't want to… disturb you. I had the cook save you some of the fruit mince tarts you like." It is a blatant bribe but Gwen cannot bring herself to care. Morgana deserved the best. The handmaiden is rewarded with a beatific smile.
"Oh Gwen, thank you. You shouldn't have."
Morgana stares at Gwen as she sets the tray down. Her maid is putting around like she usually does but the effortlessness of the usual cheerful chatter is missing. She wants to say sorry but it does not come easily to her. She is used to being the one that is wronged.
"I'm sorry if I've upset you." Gwen nods and curtsies. "My lady."
"Gwen," Morgana calls, returning to her senses. "Don't leave." Wincing at how much it sounded like an order, Morgana tries again. "Please partake of this meal with me Gwen."
Gwen complies easily and Morgana is ashamed at herself for fearing that her handmaiden would refuse her. For thinking that Gwen would be so petty and cruel.
Gwen is touched as Morgana reaches to hold her hand, her mistress's blue eyes welling up with emotion. "My lady, please don't be upset. I'm sorry if I've-"
"No Gwen, it is I that should apologise." Morgana takes a deep breath, composing herself. "I'm…I apologise for my actions earlier today. It was not becoming of a true friend. You know I am proud of you and I support your choices. I should not have made you feel that you could not come to me with this." Morgana tries not to sound hurt about this because this is about Gwen, not her.
"I didn't want you to worry, my lady. It wasn't… what happened was not a reflection of my trust in you. Please don't think that. Merlin wasn't sure that it would work. I should have told you. I'm sor-"
A flicker of anger surges in Morgana, perhaps a bit of jealousy but she shoves it down, holding onto her courtly poker face. "Please don't apologise, Gwen. You were right. I mean, you are right. It is your decision to make. I forgot myself, treating you as if I were entitled. It was never my intention to treat you as if you are my property. Forgive me, Gwen?"
"Of course, my lady." It is times like these as anguished and heartbreaking that Gwen is reminded of how extraordinary Morgana is. How she would not truly mind being hers. "Don't worry about it." Gwen squeezes the pale, delicate hand in hers before letting it go. "Now, my lady, we should eat."
Morgana nods and smiles faintly before reaching for the cutlery. Her long fingers run over the silver. Something is still on her mind. "I've failed to take care of you." Morgana's voice quivers at the end of the soft admission and Gwen can read her mistress well. She takes out a clean handkerchief and offers it to her lady. "I'm being so silly. Don't take notice of me, Gwen, eat." Morgana wipes at her face delicately. "Now I've gone and ruined all the hard work you've put in trying to make me look beautiful."
"No, Lady Morgana, no! You are beautiful. Even more beautiful than beautiful." Gwen blushes and avoids looking her mistress in the eye. "I don't even know how to say it. Anyway, you are not being silly. And you haven't failed me. Not at all, my lady. Don't think of such things. Please, my lady, don't weep for me."
"Oh Gwen. You are too good to me." Morgana sniffs. "I'll take care of you. I promise. You'll not want for anything."
"You don't need to, my lady."
Morgana lifts her head higher and looks Gwen in the eye. As a noblewoman, she has seen many beautiful and handsome people. But at that moment, Morgana could not see anyone as good and as beautiful as Gwen. It made her angry all over at Arthur's selfishness, taking advantage of Gwen's generosity. She hated him and Merlin for what they would do to Gwen and she prayed to whatever Gods would listen that Gwen would not be torn apart by her good deed. "I know. I want to. You've always taken care of me. Now it's my turn. I will take care of you. I will protect you."
Gwen knows that Morgana has just made up her mind and she would not be able to change it. A pleasant warmth spreads through her at Morgana's protectiveness. "I don't doubt that, my lady."
*
Later that night, Morgana insists that Gwen takes a break instead of reading to her until she falls asleep. "I'll be alright," she said confidently though she felt anything but. "You need your rest," she said more convincingly.
Alone in her room, Morgana lies in the dark wishing for light, any light but the night is relentless. The moon had hidden it's face yet again. There are no candles in the room, not since she set fire to the curtains a long time ago. It is so dark that it's like being in a hole underground. She feels the urge to claw at the darkness but resists, laying still under the covers.
"I will get through this," Morgana whispers to herself. For Gwen.
*
The watcher is standing at the window, overlooking the courtyard. The knights of Camelot have hauled out a wooden dais with a long stake in the middle. Fear. There is already a crowd gathering there. It's quite a large crowd. Murmuring. Someone is going to burn.
There is the sound of hooves on cobblestones. All heads turn towards the cage being dragged by two weary draughthorses. The watcher sees a dark-haired girl in clothed in dirty brown rags, the remnants of what used to be a white slip of a dress. The girl is huddled over, her curly hair shorn roughly. Cold. Shame. Betrayal. The watcher sees the girl's wrists rubbed raw from the iron manacles. The girl's grubby hands hold to the bars of the cage and she turns her eyes towards the golden prince standing grimly at the balcony.
"Arthur! Arthur, please!"
The crowd gasps, tittering at this scandalous spectacle.
"I didn't mean to. Please!"
Then the girl turns around, searching for a familiar face. One last chance. Wide, red-rimmed eyes lock onto twin orbs.
The watcher gasps.
They are her own.
Flames lick greedily at the dry wood at her feet and she is burning, burning…
*
Morgana wakes, flailing in her sheets. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. She had to remind herself that Uther was no longer alive. They knew she had powers. She was not going to be found out and burnt at the stake. She wants to call out for Gwen but she doesn't, muffling her screams into the lavender-scented pillows. Gwen needs her rest.
*
The watcher is standing at a field and there are flames. It's burning. Possession. Jealousy.
Lancelot comes up from behind Gwen, soot on his face but untouched. "My love," he says, wrapping her up in his arms. "I'm home."
"So you are." Gwen is so happy. Soon, she will have Arthur's son but she knows one day she will have a family with Lancelot. She loves him.
Merlin is still on the burning field, eyes a fiery orange from the flames. He pulls Arthur into a crushing kiss and the world ignites.
*
Morgana chokes back a scream, sitting up in the dark. It taunts her. Soot. Ashes. Black. No. She must be strong. For Gwen.
It's driving her slowly to the edge of insanity. The present flashes by her like the future. Time is endless and never moving, she is trapped by the past and the future. She has nowhere to go. She cannot sleep for she has lost control of her power. She cannot stop using her power for fear of the inevitable. She must know even if she does not want to know. It will end. It must end.
The future is one without her. She cannot see herself past the black curtain.
Only Gwen can see the way that Lady Morgana is no longer herself. Morgana barricades herself in room, insisting that she is 'just tired'. Sometimes she can hear Morgana pacing, muttering things to herself, holding an unlit, empty lamp with shaking hands. Her lady will accept no help, telling her to rest with a wane smile.
"Perhaps I should stay tonight, my lady?"
"No, Gwen, you've done enough for me. You take care of yourself. You need your rest."
Morgana never says anything about the baby.
On the dawn of the fifth day that Morgana returns her breakfast mostly untouched, Gwen moves next door permanently. When she finds out, Morgana is unhappy.
"I don't want to disturb your rest, Gwen."
"It's more convenient for me, my lady, if you don't mind too much. My back you know and my ankles are getting a bit swollen," the dark-skinned maid babbles excuse after excuse, knowing that Morgana will have to give in.
*
The watcher is standing at the window again, looking into the courtyard. Fear. The dais is there with a tall wooden stake at the centre. She's too late. The girl is already tied there. The crowd is chanting "Burn, witch, burn!" with gleeful vindictiveness.
The watcher sees the girl in a tattered white underdress. Her cropped hair frizzles up like a mane. She's blubbering, wailing loudly over the voices condemning her. She cranes her neck towards the King standing impassively by his lover.
"Arthur! Arthur, please!"
The crowd jeers. A whore and a witch, they call her.
"You must believe me! I didn't! It's not what you think, please, I'm innocent!"
The crowd laughs louder. Eyes flash gold and the fire is lit with a whoosh.
Then the girl finally looks over to the watcher, betrayal in her eyes.
It's Gwen. She burns.
*
Then she's up with a gasp. Lady Morgana peels the sheets sticking to her, reaching for the towel at her bedside. She mops herself dry as much as she can. Rolling over to the drier side of the bed, Morgana shivers even though she can see through the window that it must be morning already. Or perhaps the afternoon. Her mouth opens and she wants to call Gwen. She could call her without disturbing her. Comfort is so close but she will not give in now. She can get through this. Gwen needs her rest.
Morgana makes up her mind in that moment to confront Merlin to put an end to this. She has to save Gwen somehow.
*
The warlock waits for her to break the silence. Books hover effortlessly in the air above his head like a moving halo. Sibilant words slip from his tongue and golden dust sweeps the bookshelves. By merely raising his hand, Merlin's books rearrange themselves in order.
"My Lord," Morgana forces out in her most respectful tone. She is in Merlin's territory after all.
"The Lady Morgana." Merlin nods without bowing. He is of higher rank than her now. "Thought you weren't going to speak to me or Arthur until the end of time."
"Trust me, this is the last time."
He raises an eyebrow so reminiscent of the late Court Physician. Morgana misses him even though he sought to hide her magical abilities from her. She knew that he had been trying to protect her. She suppresses a smile and instead curls her finger around a lock of her hair. Morgana thinks she might just have found her trump card. "The taint on your soul is permanent. Would you sully Arthur?"
"No small talk, my lady?" Merlin spells another set of books to spin in the air again.
"This is not a game, Merlin! I know what you will do to him. Why can't you just leave him alone? He could have a future with Gwen. Gwen could be his Queen!"
"You'd give up Gwen that easily?" Merlin says. "Interesting."
"Go to Hell," Morgana says but Merlin merely chuckles. "Leave him or I'll- I'll-" Morgana clenched her fists.
Merlin tilts his head coyly and puts the books back in the shelf just as the golden dust disappears. "Morgana dear, beside the fact that you have nothing to threaten me with do you really think that doing this could make me leave him? Or were you hoping to make him leave me? I'm sorry to disappoint you. I asked him myself not so long ago right before well, you know what happened."
"You're lying."
"See for yourself."
She does and she sees Arthur kneeling. Arthur bloodied and offering himself to Merlin. Arthur handing Merlin a knife. Arthur… Morgana drops her hand and stumbles back from the warlock. "You hurt him."
"I did," Merlin says calmly, looking her right in her eyes.
"You're going to break him."
"You're wrong," Merlin denies with a shake of his head.
"I'm rarely wrong," Morgana scoffed.
"No, you're wrong about this. I might hurt him but I will never, ever break him. It hurts me to hurt him and I cannot break him without breaking myself," Merlin confesses.
Morgana paced in the small space, tangling her skirts as she trod on the hem in her frustration.
"He doesn't need you anymore. I am there for him. I'm the one he needs. Even your powers are failing."
Words couldn't do anything to her but they could. Words were magic. They could hurt. The words strip Morgana of her armour.
"Oh yes, I know. You have nothing left to offer him. That bothers you doesn't it? I'm everything he wants. The kingdom is prosperous. You're going to pass the peak of your beauty and yet no one wants you."
"This isn't about you or me," Morgana spits out. "Could you protect him from yourself Merlin?" Morgana accused.
"Well you certainly can't," Merlin laughs cruelly. "As I said. I would never break him. I might hurt him, but I'm not perfect. And you know...he wants it from me, he needs it. It scares you doesn't it? I think you are scared that if it were down to you, you don't love him enough to give him what he really needs. You wouldn't have done what I did for Arthur."
"You not in love with him. You're obsessed with him. It's an obsession. You want to possess him. I know his love for you blinds him but I know the truth. You're a heartless bastard."
Merlin doesn't deny it. "Is that all you have to say?"
"What would Gaius say? He'd be ashamed of you."
"Perhaps. He trusted me to do the right thing. He might even agree with you. He would ask me what I was thinking and tell me that I shouldn't have done it and then he'll give me that look..." A trace of nostalgia crosses Merlin's face, taking years off him, turning him back into a gangly servant boy. But it is gone when he catches himself.
It is not a battle she can win but she will plead for clemency anyway. She must. "Leave him. Not for my sake but for his. For Arthur."
"I can't."
"You can't or you won't?" Morgana says with a bitter sneer.
"I can't. I truly cannot be parted with him."
"But if you were to part from him, he can still live?"
"Yes," Merlin acknowledges easily.
Morgana can sense a 'but' coming.
"Knowing Arthur though, it's a risk don't you think?"
"What do you mean? He is no coward. He would never-"
"You misunderstand me, my lady. It would ruin everything that he is. He will never be the legend that he will be. Everything that I will help him to be. Without me, he would lose himself."
"Are you sure that your crown is large enough for your head?"
"We are two sides of the same coin. I brought him back from a place where angels would fear to tread because I cannot exist without him. You really would gamble with destiny?"
There is nothing she can say now. Even if she is loathe to admit it, Morgana knows that Merlin is right. She has seen it. Once. Losing Merlin would kill Arthur. Not physically perhaps but he would fade away, a mere phantom of the glorious King Arthur that destiny would have him be.
Merlin catches her sleeve as she leaves. "I'm truly sorry, Morgana, that you can't understand the bond that Arthur and I share." That you're not a part of is what Morgana hears. Somehow the sincere apology makes it worse. She does not look at him as she walks away from him. Her work here is done. She has failed and there is nothing, nothing at all she can do.
*
It's a long week and a half of tense silences until Morgana scrounges up the courage to talk to Arthur. She's so very tired, hanging onto her existence by sheer tenacity alone. Not much longer now, she thinks. When they were younger, they fell out spectacularly that time when Morgana beat Arthur at sword fighting. They went for months without speaking. She doesn't think she could do that now. She's not eleven anymore. So she cleans herself up as much as she can though nothing can hide the purplish bruises under her eyes. Gwen, bless her, has used her excellent seamstress skills to take in her clothes so they do not look like they are falling off her. With a little help of make-up and jewellery, Morgana reclaims her title as the dark beauty of Camelot.
Arthur is leaving against the wall, looking out of the window, looking over his people. The King sees Morgana approach and keeps his face carefully neutral. When she is close enough to touch, Arthur closes his eyes and inhales the scent of lavender and spices. Arthur is relieved to see Morgana even if his pride reminds him that he did nothing wrong. He holds his hand up and recites the litany that he has practiced in his head since she slammed the door in his face. Well not literally in his face but on everything that they had shared since childhood. Of all people, he had thought she would understand. He had his obligations to Camelot as King. "Don't say it. Merlin didn't rape me. He's not evil. He didn't force Gwen to do anything. He's not forcing me to do anything. I didn't force Gwen to do anything either. If that's what you're coming to talk to me about, I don't want to hear it."
She thinks that the most truthful part is the last part but… "I didn't come to argue with you, my lord."
Twenty years ago, Arthur would have held onto his anger. He would have drawn out the argument until his father made him apologise to her. And probably only after his father had made sure he wouldn't be able to sit properly for a week. Then Arthur had resented his father for assuming that Morgana was right about whatever it was that they were arguing. He hadn't wanted to be a 'man' but then he hadn't exactly asked to be a prince either. But now, he feels as small as he did then. Arthur can't stand the animosity between them any longer and he blurts out, "I'm sorry, Morgana. Don't go."
His sister gives him a small smile, a perfectly-shaped eyebrow raised. "Arthur. I've always wanted the best for you. I was wrong and I've caused you stress, for that I am sorry. You are my brother in all but blood and it pains me to think that you will be hurt. I only want to protect you." She will not be sorry for that and from the look of understanding that Arthur gives her, he knows it too. She had never been good at apologising, having had the privilege of being right more often that not with her sight. This is her second apology in a month. It's a record.
"Of course. I'm sorry to have been dismissive. I will try to be more understanding. I know it's not easy to have those dreams. I don't know where I'd be without your counsel." He sounds so much like Uther that fateful day. It is one of the few memories of her foster father that she allows herself to revisit sometimes in an unguarded moment. She does not like to dwell on the past.
"You'll be a great king and a great father. Uther…he would have been very proud of you. I know he would be."
It's another magical pregnancy. Perhaps Arthur is too much like his father. Still, Morgana does not mention what Uther might think about the magic or that a servant is carrying the future heir of Camelot or that his son prefers to sleep with his former manservant than all of the princesses in Albion. She does not mention or allude to any of the secrets of the Pendragon family that they have shoved behind the dusty tapestries. For that, Arthur is grateful.
"He'd be proud of you too. You challenge me like you did him. You'll be a great aunt."
"Maybe," Morgana says hesitantly.
"You will be," Arthur insists. "We'll be a family. A perfect, happy family." The family he has always wanted/ A smile lights up his face and Morgana knows that his son will be handsome, like his father. It is something that she feels as if she knows for sure but will never experience.
It's a sore spot between them but she needs to hear him say it. "You'll take care of Gwen, won't you?"
"'Course." He gives her an incredulous look as if to say who do you are talking to?
"She is…important to me, Arthur. I need you to swear to me that you will."
He does without hesitation. "I will make things right," he promises. The blond has enough experience with Morgana to know that if he doesn't, she would probably curse him. Morgana loves him and he knows that but she can wield a sword with skill. That and she knows his weaknesses.
"I can't have you coming after me," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I was thinking of assigning Lancelot to take care of Gwen. As her bodyguard, helper kind of er…you know? Merlin's accelerated the healing process of his leg but he's still not up to riding. All that jostling. So Lancelot is going to be grounded from patrol until he feel ups to it. He can watch over Gwen, carry her stuff for her, whatever it is that you have her doing. I've already had the guards keep an extra eye on her. What do you think?"
Morgana swallows painfully as her breath catches. "I think," she says slowly. "I think it's a great idea. I'm very…glad you are going to have Lancelot take care of her."
The King furrows his brows as he studies the peculiar expression on his sister's face. It's as if Morgana is jealous? Arthur cannot be sure but it's incredibly similar to the look on his sister's face when the knight she fancied kissed him instead. It's probably too soon to ask, Arthur sighs inwardly, women are so complicated. He changes the subject instead. "Do you remember when we were young, I dared you jump into the lake with…"
Morgana lets Arthur tell the stories, interrupting him with comments and some of her own. She lets the memories take her to a time when all she worried about was what dress she should wear to the Spring Dance. She goes with the flow of the conversation and wishes she could have this all the time. Time slips between her fingers like silk. Arthur is happy. His back is to the window. The sun is dipping lower in the horizon and the last of the golden rays bathe him in their light. He is glowing.
They bicker and banter as they used to over dinner. They laugh.
"Everything is alright between us? Morgana?" Arthur is earnest and Morgana graces him with her widest grin.
"Oh, why wouldn't it be? It's all going to be alright."
"I'm glad to hear it. You look tired, Morgana. Perhaps I should let you retire to your chambers to rest?"
"Thank you for your company, Arthur." Morgana is tired. She accepts this exit gratefully.
"I'm glad to have worked things out between us."
"As am I. Goodnight Arthur."
"And to you, Lady Morgana." Belatedly, Arthur adds, "Sweet dreams."
*
"I'm sorry, sire." The warlock kneels at his King's feet.
"There is nothing to forgive, Merlin. You're not my manservant anymore. Get up."
"I must have your forgiveness, your majesty."
"Always, my love."
Merlin rises and Arthur takes him into his arms.
*
Morgana sits up and weeps. She cannot fight destiny. I'm truly sorry, Morgana, that you can't understand the bond that Arthur and I share.
Gwen hears the heart-wrenching sobs coming from her mistress's room and she wakes. Her mistress looks terribly pale by the flickering light of the lamp. "You are distressed, my lady. Let me stay, at least until you fall asleep. Shh, don't push me away now. It would ease my mind. Allow me. Please." Morgana finds that she does not have the strength to send her away. Forgive me, Gwen, she thinks.
She manages to croak out, "Thanks."
"You don't need to thank me, my lady," Gwen says, pouring a glass of water for Morgana.
Morgana drinks deeply, soothing her throat. "Please, call me Morgana," she says, enjoying Gwen's smile. "You've been the best maid that any lady could ask for. You're best friend I've ever had. I'm glad you're here." Morgana pulls the covers to invite Gwen in the bed with her. "Come, it's big enough for both of us."
Gwen has to suppress a giggle. "Alright."
The two toss and turn a little to get comfortable. Morgana is propped up by an elbow on a pillow, facing Gwen.
"I want you to know," Morgana begins, a hand playing with Gwen's hair, "that you are so… important to me. You're more than just a servant to me, I wish I could make you my equal. I wish you could be…" mine.
"I know," Gwen says, tentatively reaching out to touch Morgana's face. "You are important to me too, Morgana."
Morgana leans in to kiss Gwen on the lips. Gwen's lips part to deepen the kiss and they are soft and inviting. It's a little awkward and the light of the lamp goes out part way through and has to be relit because they kept bumping into each other but it is the best thing Gwen has ever done.
Afterwards, both of them spoon in bed sated and boneless.
"Morgana," Gwen calls, a blush rising on her cheeks at the intimate address. It would take some getting use to. "Where are you going?"
"To get another drink of water. Don't worry. I can get it myself. I'll be fine. You just lie down and rest. I'll be back in a moment."
The last thing Gwen can remember before drifting off is Morgana's lips on her forehead. Gwen thinks that Morgana might have whispered, "love you" before leaving over and blowing the lamp out, but she can't be sure. Still, she etches the moment into her memory. It's perfect, like a dream.
To be continued: All criticism welcome.