Hello! Sorry for the tardiness, I just started my vacation and the week before was filled with all the crap that teachers love to cram in before break! BUT I AM FINALLY HERE! The story is almost done...almost!
Oblivion: Bastille
WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT (I don't know how many of you will be pleased with that but we'll see, this is the first time I've ever written something like this before so I apologize in advance if it is crap)
*gulp* well here goes nothing...
Two years pass.
Merlin straightened himself on his horse. The fine clothes he wore weighed him down, the thick blue fabric almost as dark as his hair. A high collar restricted his movement, and the rich fur cloak was heavy on his shoulders. But when a freezing winter wind ruffled his hair, the advisor was grateful for their presence.
The road to Camelot was a winter wonderland. Icicles dripped like crystal from the tips of bowing tree branches. Crisp white snow illuminated the scene, and Merlin looked up at the grey blue sky with eyes of a deeper color. He'd told Gwen that it would be better to travel in the days of spring, when the weather was kind and the heat like a warm blanket, but she was adamant that they should travel this winter. Ruckus was breaking out in the other kingdoms, rumors of rebellions in the deepest corners of Cenred's land and beyond. Both Glendale and Camelot's rulers had dubbed it necessary that their feud be put behind them so they would not appear weak and prone to unrest.
"Are you alright, Merlin?"
Gwenivere was looking at him with worried eyes. Her crimson dress was dark against the white snow, hair bound in an intricate design made of several tightly woven braids. Two years into her coronation, the queen looked comfortable in her position. No longer the breathless, stuttering girl he'd met so many years ago, she looked the regal part of ruler. But her high place never bred any kind of arrogance, and she remained as kind hearted and down to earth as that day many years past.
"I'm fine, just thinking."
"Of her?"
Merlin smiled softly but he felt his body stiffen. Mentions of Morgana did that to him.
"You're afraid of what might have come of her."
"It's been two years and she hasn't responded to any of my letters. I still have them beneath my bed, hundreds of messages returned to me unopened without reply. "
"She's angry…"
"For two years?"
The queen was quiet, looking for her next words in a snowy embankment. However, there were none. They'd had this conversation so many times that Merlin had lost count, and always they went along the same lines.
In all honesty though, the beautiful girl with the raven hair wasn't the only subject that haunted his thoughts and waking dreams. He hadn't confided in Gwen, he hadn't confided this with anyone but Gaius. But, speaking to the dragons and watching the moons, he'd received information that the crimson's moon eclipse was to be within the season. Merlin had dismissed it as best as he could, but now, riding towards Camelot, he couldn't help but suffer under the worries of a man who knows that time is running out.
It was no coincidence that his trip to Camelot coincided with the fast approaching eclipse, but all Merlin could do to prepare for the unknown terror was grip his sword just a little tighter and be just a little more wary of the proceedings around him.
"Camelot is just ahead, my lady," came a call from a guard, and Gwenivere nodded.
Sure enough, the marble towers of Camelot's citadel came into sight, and the trees and forest fell behind into a wide expanse of an untouched snow-white field. As they approached closer and closer, Merlin felt, for the first time in a very long time, a pit of fear growing in his stomach. The same feeling that plagued him before battles, the warlock shivered. Memories flashed across his mind - a sunlit throne room, a dark dungeon, a burning brand, a terrible betrayal...
Camelot didn't harbor good memories. The warlock wasn't sure if it ever would.
Despite his growing fears, the party plowed on, and news of their arrival must have reached the city just before they arrived. People had come down from the warmth hearths of their homes to watch the procession, some leaning from their balconies to watch the dark entourage that came from that kingdom far far away.
Merlin straightened his shoulders as they entered the large courtyard before the great doors of the citadel.
Then he saw her.
Morgana was dressed in a rich blue, her jade eyes looking out onto the Glendale party. She looked exquisite, long ebony hair brushed out and falling about her shoulders in pristine waves. Blood red lips and khol-darkened eyes were a mark of her well keep, but something about the excessive makeup made Merlin uncomfortable. Probably because the last he'd seen her she was still fighting a war and recovering from another, no care for her appearance. But somehow, that Morgana seemed infinitely more beautiful.
Their eyes met, and Merlin watched as her red lips opened, as though she wanted to cry out to him. A glimmer of warmth and love melted across those familiar jade eyes, and Merlin almost smiled. But then the fire was doused, and when she looked away he could only see ice as frigid as that which dripped from the detailing in the cold stone marking her eyes and features.
Merlin turned away, for a moment struggling to breathe. He tried to busy himself with the formalities of the moment, watching Gwen dismount and greet Arthur. The warlock then did the same. Morgana was then beside him—as advisors they would have to walk together into the citadel. When he approached, she dropped into a curtsy.
"My lord."
Merlin nodded his head and bent down, kissing the perfumed hand offered him. He allowed his lips to linger on the soft skin, and he could hear the small intake of breath that came from the lady before him.
So she'd missed him too.
"My lady, you look beautiful," he said softly, offering his arm to her. Morgana took it lightly, and side by side they walked behind the king and the queen, aware that, for a moment, all eyes were on them.
"Morgana," Arthur called when they were out of the earshot of the masses. "Would you escort Merlin to his room?"
The sorceress nodded and led Merlin down a hall. Finally out of sight, she pulled her arm from his grip as though he was scorching metal.
"Morgana—" Merlin reached for her shoulder as she began to walk with a brisk pace down the hall, not giving him single a word nor glance.
"What?"
"Please, let us talk?"
"What is there to talk about?"
This time Merlin's gaze turned icy and he pulled her in an alcove, pinning her there with his body.
"I haven't seen you for two years and you treat me like some stranger! A forgotten enemy!"
"After what happened, I think I have the right—"
"But two years? Two years without knowing how you were, what had come of you, how you were faring? And all the letters I wrote, sent back without a reply?"
Morgana looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I didn't receive any letters."
"Sorry?"
"What? Now you're acting confused. What of the letters I sent you, I wrote them in droves and every time I would get no response."
Merlin stepped back in shock.
"You wrote to me?"
Her eyes softened. "Of course. Every week I sent a new one, and every day I watched for a raven that never came."
"That was me as well," Merlin said gently, and he took her hand and softly held it in his own. "Don't you see? Someone is trying to pit us against one another."
"Who?"
"What does it matter? We're together now, aren't we?" Merlin took her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry for what I said and what I did that day in the council. I was wrong, I should have listened to you—"
"No, Merlin, it was I who was at fault. I let my anger towards Uther blind me and I took that fury out on Arthur. In the time I've spent by his side I've seen him grow. I've seen signs of the great king that he will become. He will do well on the throne. It was never mine to take. Besides, it was foolish to even make the offer. I was yet again so consumed with hate that I didn't think of the reality of the issue, and how it would have been impossible to convince Arthur to relinquish his throne with his banners at the gate. It seems I was just a girl, naïve and pitting myself against the world. I was wrong, and I'm sorry to have made you suffer for speaking truth. It seems that I have made a habit of disappointing you."
Merlin shook his head then smiled, leaning forward and kissing her brow.
"I've missed you," he muttered against her skin.
"And I you," Morgana wrapped her arms around his neck and they held each other there.
It was Merlin who pulled back, joy finally gracing those pale features after so many months, and he kissed her passionately and without warning. A little taken aback at first, Morgana smiled against his mouth and deepened the intimacy, gently working her way into his mouth and tasting his sweet breath. Her hand wrapped itself around the nape of his neck, and she let him push her back against the wall and envelop her in his arms, warm and soft and muscled through the thick clothes he wore.
Morgana pulled their lips apart and looked at him through lidded eyes as he continued to trail kisses down her jaw.
"We have to go…go get ready for the feast and the meeting. Come on, we haven't much time."
Merlin groaned with protest but Morgana only laughed and pushed him off, taking him by the hand and leading him down the corridors, smiling like children in a way that they hadn't in a very long time.
Morgana dropped by Merlin's chambers later that night, escorting him to the council meeting before the feast. Their hands were joined when they walked into the room, and Arthur and Gwen were speaking quietly when a man announced their entrance. Gwenivere smiled brightly at the sight of the both of them together, and Arthur simply nodded at Merlin.
When all the necessary council members had arrived, and were all seated around a vast round table that Arthur had built, they began. First they addressed matters of war reparations and other important issues that had to be spoken to. But finally, when the problems of war had been addressed, they began to speak about the problems of peace.
Arthur Pendragon stood, offering a hand to Gwenivere Leodogrance, and she took it and rose as well, the pair standing straight backed and proud, a vision of regality.
"Our kingdoms have been at war for a very, very long time. We have a history marred with bloody feuds, failed peace treaties, and terrible betrayals. And so, Queen Gwenivere and I have decided that, with our new reigns, we shall not let the future repeat the past. In order to forge a lasting alliance, we will wed to combine our kingdoms from now, until the end of our time."
Mutters erupted through the room, and like many others, Merlin and Morgana looked at the couple with gaping mouths. No one had heard of this arrangement, and Gwen smiled at their faces.
"I know this seems wrong," she addressed her council members. "To wed a kingdom who, only years ago, we were at war with. But peace does not happen between friends, it happens between enemies. The war we fought was on the matter of magic, and here, today, we will resolve it. When the two nations combine, magic shall be legalized once again."
Cries of shock and outrage filled the room, many of Camelot's men gawking at their young king. But Arthur only silenced them with a word and continued himself.
"Magic is like a sword. You can use it for good or ill. I have seen the evil in magic; I've suffered at its hand. But I've also seen the good in the Old Religion." Arthur turned to Merlin and Morgana. "How could I possibly condemn those with magic when the two most powerful sorcerers are two of my most trusted friends? One is even my sister. I betrayed them. I betrayed them because I was blind, but I can see again. The transition won't be easy, many will reject this change, but many more will embrace it. We'll need help and all of your support. That is why Gwenivere and I would like to ask if Merlin and Morgana would be our court sorcerers—teaching us what we need to know and helping us do what's right for both magical and non-magical peoples."
Merlin was still shocked, so it was Morgana who spoke for both of them. "We would be honored, my lord, my lady." She was silent for a moment, before continuing in a soft voice. "I'm so proud of you, brother."
With that the entire council burst into applause, and everyone in the room couldn't help but smile. Gwenivere laughed at how red Arthur blushed, teasing him with a light wink.
"Then it is settled," she called out through the din, and the room quieted at her honey-sweet voice. "But we have something else we must decide. Arthur and I have chosen Camelot's citadel as our capital because of its size and strategic location, but we cannot name our kingdom Camelot nor Glendale. We must choose a name for this land, a land that many have waited for, and many have died for. A land that, hopefully, will live on in the minds of men as a time of peace and prosperity that will go unmatched until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east."
The warlock stood with a light smile on his face. He knew the answer to this question, and he could feel shivers down his spine as he spoke with clear certainty.
"Albion. We shall call it Albion."
Morgana leaned in and whispered something in Merlin's ear, the warlock laughing, eyes twinkling. They were slowly dancing in the center of the hall, amid dozens of other pairs. The hall was echoing with the laughter and conversations of the people in the vast space, everyone seated or ambling in and out of the marble columns, eating and drinking at the great wooden tables that were groaning beneath the burden of dishes of every type –fish and fowl prepared in every possible fashion; sweet bread rolls baked with steaming soft innards and a crisp outer crust, smothered with strawberry preserve; vegetables sauteed, boiled, roasted, and fried with prime spices and herbs; venison steaks, pork ribs, rabbit haunches and chilled quail dipped in tart sauces; cheeses aged to perfection, served with fresh biscuits or else peppered with nuts and dried berries; succulent fruits of every kind—dates, exotic oranges, peaches, melons and canteloupes—all cut and sliced to form artistic formations to admire before consumption; a glorious suckling pig, spitted and rotated over gluttonous flames until its skin gleamed like the purest of amber; and at the center of every table, a proud, roasted peacock, their skins and feathers retained and fitted over a frame, giving the illusion of the magnificent birds sitting amongst the bountiful food.
It was warm, and the air smelled of spiced wine and mulled ale, and perhaps it was their smell that made everyone dizzy and giddy, and the dancers loose as they swayed past each other like entranced swans.
Gwenivere was watching Merlin and Morgana with an appraising eye as Arthur spoke to a nearby noble, constantly shooting looks at her to see how she fared. When Merlin looked up from Morgana's green eyes, his gaze met hers. He whispered something in the sorceress's ear, and she smiled, allowing him to slip from her grasp and walk towards the high table.
"Would you honor me with a dance, princess?"
"Of course, magical farmboy—though I'm no longer a princess."
"And I no longer a farmboy," Merlin replied with a smile, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.
She wore a beautiful lilac dress, and it was soft under his hands and her touch warm as she wrapped her fingers comfortably around his neck in a familiar embrace.
"You're like a sister to me, Gwen," he began in a whispered voice, his breath upsetting the brown curls that had fallen from their keep.
"I know."
"Which is why I have to ask if you're alright with this. Why I have to ask why you decided not to confide in me your plans. You shouldn't have to marry to seal an alliance—"
"No, you see, Merlin, that is exactly what I have to do—and I knew you would speak me out of it even though it's the natural order of things. In times of peace, my father would have wed me to some foreign lord in a foreign land to forge an alliance, or strengthen one. As queen, the same duty is expected of me. My people are more important than my happiness—"
"But—"
"—But, I will be happy. Before this war started, I loved Arthur Pendragon. I think I still do, and I know I still can. He's a good man, an honorable man, not like his father before him. Arthur will be a great king, and I will be there by his side as I should be. Do not fret about me, Merlin. I want this."
Merlin smiled and came to a stop as the dance ended. He bent down and kissed her forehead, looking down at her with proud eyes.
"You will make a great queen, princess."
"I won't-for I never would have gotten here-without you, my old friend. "
The warlock smiled, and led her back to the high table where Arthur and Morgana were teasing Gwaine for his hair, the sorceress praising him on how luscious it was—more luscious than hers, she said, to the guffaws of the entire table.
"Gently, Morgana. You know how sensitive Gwaine gets," Merlin said with a smile, winking at his friend.
"So that's how it is, Merlin. This is betrayal most foul." The knight shook his head morosely.
"Go drink yourself a river, though I've seen you've done that already."
The table burst into laughter, the sorcerer dodging a loaf of bread that the knight threw at him, both men grinning from ear to ear.
In such a manner, the night continued. When at last the wine began to get to their heads and eyelids began to droop, the guests took their leave.
Merlin was walking Morgana to her room, arms intertwined as they spoke in the growing silence of Camelot's citadel, both feeling warm and pleasantly fuzzy after the night. But they both weren't drunk—the sorcerers never got drunk, it was a rule of theirs they would never break.
For that Merlin was grateful as they finally reached Morgana's doors, so that he could see her with crisp clarity. Her hair was slipping from the pins that held it in place, a warm twinkle in her eyes, ruby lips slightly parted in laughter. The light caught her ivory skin, turning it to satin.
"What are you staring at?" she teased.
Merlin ran his finger gently down her jawline, tracing the shape of her face. "You're beautiful, you know that?"
Morgana smiled, and Merlin almost laughed at the rose blush that crept on her cheeks. It was a rare thing to embarrass her, and the warlock relished the moment. She looked up at him then, with those glittering eyes, and spoke with a soft voice.
"You made me a promise some years ago, before a great battle. You never kept it."
"Well, in my defense—"
Silencing him with a kiss, Morgana continued, her lips brushing against his with every word.
"I plan to keep you to it."
Merlin looked down at her, eyes lidded with desire. "Are you sure?"
She leaned up on tiptoes and kissed him again, this time with more passion, pressing herself against him.
"I'm guessing that's a yes," he breathed with a smile, and she punished him for his cheek by biting gently on his bottom lip. Merlin moaned.
Morgana's eyes shone gold and the door unlocked, and she led him inside, still intertwined as his eyes glowed gold to close and lock it behind them.
Finally alone, Merlin pushed her up against the wall, tongue opening her lips and exploring there. Her breath tasted of wine and fruits, a hint of exotic spice that the warlock couldn't name. Morgana ran her hands down his back, down to the edge of his shirt. They broke their kiss as he helped her pull the tunic off his shoulders, his undershirt following it. Now when Morgana touched him, she touched bare skin. His muscles quivered under her touch. She traced the lines of his flesh, the scars that shone white in the candlelight.
His lips left her mouth, moving to trail down her neck, leaving behind dry kisses that sent shivers through her body. As she continued to explore his bare chest, the tips of her fingers tracing his spine, he wound his hands around her back and began to undue the laces that held up her heavy emerald gown. When he finished the last knot, Merlin pushed it gently off her shoulders. Morgana shivered as she was left in her thin white shift, wearing nothing else underneath. The warlock pulled his head back for a moment, taking in the sight of her form in the sheer cloth.
Morgana stilled like a bird in darkness under his searching gaze, and from her tight stance, Merlin recognized her shyness and her fear. He had nearly forgotten that she'd never done this before, and he took her by the hand, leading her towards the feather soft bed. Before he laid her down, he wound his hands in her hair, pulling out the pins and letting it fall in ebony waves down her shoulders. Merlin gently ran his fingers down the silky locks, a simple but calming gesture.
He helped her lay down onto the bed, her eyes never leaving his. Her pupils were dilated as she took in his every movement, and Merlin, almost taken aback at his own forwardness, pulled off his trousers under her watching eyes. After giving her a minute to study him, take in his pale and muscled form, he joined her on the feather soft covers. Morgana shivered as he hovered above her. Their eyes met, gazes locking.
"You trust me?" Merlin asked softly.
Morgana was still for a moment before nodding, pulling herself up for a moment and kissing him lightly on the lips, an invitation. He deepened the kiss, making it just a bit wetter, slow and gentle as he ran his fingers down the sides of her shift, bunching up the fabric and pulling it off her head, tossing it aside.
She didn't meet his eyes as he took in her naked form. The candlelight danced off her bare skin, and Merlin's breath hitched. When she finally dared meet his gaze, Merlin leaned in and kissed her lightly.
"You are beautiful, Morgana le Fey."
Morgana's eyes widened and she smiled, ruby lips parting ever so slightly. For a moment neither of them did anything, simply studying each other in the dim light. The light cracking of the flame and their breaths were the only sounds. Then something snapped, a small sign that urged them forward.
Their lips met again with a new passion, and their hands began to explore. Merlin let Morgana go first, trying to remain still against her curious touch. She ran her hands down his chest, down to his hips where she traced the bone, and into the inside of his thighs. He shuddered as she finally gripped him, running her hand down his length softly at first, before growing bolder as her strokes became harder and more confident.
Happy that she was comfortable, Merlin held himself above her on one hand, the other moving to touch her satiny skin. His hands glided on her side, running over her quivering abdomen, and tracing the underside of her breast. Her touch stopped then, eyes closing in pleasure as his hand gently glided over her, stroking her nipples gently, already painfully hard and dark red in the candlelight. He lowered his lips to kiss her there, and her back arched off the bed at the foreign sensation.
Merlin was torn between watching her expression or paying attention to the task at hand, and instead did a little bit of both. It was strange to see her like this, so open and soft, the hard lines and cold edges of war gone in the warm light. He supposed he seemed the very same, and Merlin forgot everything but her in that moment, losing himself in her familiar yet new scent, in her familiar yet new touch.
Morgana shuddered beneath him, her hands finding their way into his black hair and pulling him closer. While his mouth pleasured her, Merlin allowed a single hand to glide down her side, gripping at her hips before disappearing between her legs.
She cried out in surprise when he touched her, running his fingers gently over her wetness, and Merlin could feel her shaking in his grasp. Leaving her breast, his lips kissed her fast beating pulse, and his hand left her warmth to massage the skin where her thigh met her hip, calming her with steady strokes.
As her heartbeat slowed, her legs opened naturally, and Merlin fit himself between them, moving to kiss her on her previously abandoned lips, already swollen. Their foreheads met gently, and Merlin looked down at her. Their eyes were blown black with lust and lidded with desire. They were so close that their long eyelashes touched. A thin sheen of sweat covered their bodies, and they glistened in the light.
Morgana leaned forward and kissed him deeply, pulling him down onto her with a hand that wound around his neck, one of her thighs wrapping around his waist, bringing him closer and closer and closer.
Merlin entered Morgana slowly, her head thrown back, muscles shivering at the intrusion. When he reached resistance he faltered for a moment, whispering her name and calling her attention to his eyes so that she wouldn't feel too much pain as he broke her maidenhood.
Morgana cried out, slightly uncomfortable as he seated himself inside her. They stopped moving for a moment, breathing against each other in quick rapid gasps. Merlin's hands began to massage her hips, stroking her and trying to help her relax, to accustom to the strange feeling. She did soon enough, and Morgana soon leaned into his touch, legs tightening around him and kissing him again, biting his bottom lip, sending a ripple of desire down him.
Merlin began to move, softly, gently, at first, growing in speed and passion as they wrapped themselves deeper in the other's arms, soft whispers and moans, the occasional cry all that could be heard. They reached the peak of their pleasure together, and Morgana silenced his voice with a kiss, their words vibrating in each other's mouths. Their eyes glowed gold as one, and all the candle's in the room blew out, leaving behind trails of smoke in the dark room.
Falling weakly in her arms, Merlin stroked her side as they cooled down, both breathing heavily. He softened inside her, and when he tried to pull away, her arms only pulled him closer. For a moment they reveled in the way they could feel the other's heartbeat—Morgana's quick and fast, Merlin's deeper but just as rapid.
When he finally pulled out of her, their eyes were clouded with not only lust but pleasure and exhaustion, and Merlin tumbled onto his back next to her, opening his arms. Morgana needn't be told; she shifted into his hold, moving onto her belly so that she could hold him in a lover's embrace, his hand resting at the bottom of her back. The warlock kissed the top of her head where she rested over his heart, and Morgana tightened her grip on him, her breasts soft against his chest. Legs entangled and arms wrapped around one another, they let themselves fall asleep swiftly as the stars shone all the brighter out their window.
A soft voice woke Morgana in the night, pulling her from blissful unconsciousness, echoing familiarly in her mind, and the sorceress's eyes snapped open at the words.
"Sister, it is time. "
For those of you who didn't see it coming, come onnnnnn, you honestly think Morgana Pendragon would say such a cheddar filled apology?
ok, so what do you think about the loving? First time I've ever written something like this so I hope it wasn't too heavy or dirty, I tried to make it as...I don't know, not as lude as a lot of other writings that you see. I'd love some feedback, even if it might be awkward considering I'm such a sold newbie.
BUT YES, I APOLOGIZE THAT THERE WASN'T MUCH ACTION IN THIS CHAPTER, JUST SOME NECESSARY DIALOGUE! BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THERE WILL BE PLENTY OF ACTION IN THE NEXT CHAPTER FOR THOSE WHO HUNGER AFTER IT!
So what did you think of the chapter? Virtual cupcakes to those who share!
Thank you again for all your lovely reviews and your continued support!
-ladywarlock
PS: Do any of you watch Game of Thrones? Because I've accidentally found myself addicted to it and I finished both seasons in an unhealthy amount of time...