I Gave Myself Away
Title: I Gave Myself Away
Pairing: Morgana/Gwen (secondary pairing: Merlin/Arthur)
Rating: PG-13
Summary:Every night, Gwen waits on the battlements. From there, she can easily hear the sounds of her husband, Arthur, and his manservant, together in the bedroom.
Then, Morgana finds her.
Based on the song 'With or Without You'
Also on A03 and FFnet
Gwen stood at the battlements, hands grasping at the stone barriers, looking down over Camelot in the dead of night, with the storm brewing overhead.
As she stood there, she felt the stones heavy in her eyes, like tears but painful, and locked inside. Back in her chambers, she knew, lay her husband and his manservant, Merlin, their bodies wrapped together. A gasp escaped through her lips, as she felt a sharp, twisting pull, as though someone had stabbed a thorn into her side.
But it was not Gwen who cried out; Merlin’s scream of ecstasy carried easily up to her ears. She wearily passed a hand over her face, breathing hard, waiting.
She did not begrudge Arthur his shared time with Merlin. She even went as far to encourage it, after the one time she had lain in Arthur’s bed, the day of their marriage. This king had spent the whole night whispering apologies into her hair, before it was over, and he gathered up his things and left her, to find somewhere else to sleep.
The first raindrops hit her face, the tip of her nose, as she remembered it. She had given Arthur everything that night, and yet they had both come away wanting more. Wanting what neither could give the other.
Now all that Gwen felt towards Arthur and Merlin was a shadow of old affection, and a cold jealousy. They had each other, whilst Gwen’s other half had vanished, only ever to be heard of in the corridors, when people whispered her name, talking of the torment she had brought upon the kingdom. And yet, still, the reluctant queen waited.
Another yell, harsh and guttural this time; Arthur’s. It was a sound Gwen had never managed to coax out of him, and she was glad of it. A shuddering breath rattled through her, and she stumbled backwards, with her eyes suddenly tight shut, in an effort to stop the world from spinning so violently.
Then, she froze, her pounding heart stuttering as she felt a whisper of something against her skin, a soft, light touch to her forehead. She couldn’t move, her head filled with Arthur and Merlin’s groans, and the now burning spot on her brow.
“Gwen,” it was so quiet, it was almost lost between the sex laden moans, coming from inside. Tears wet the edges of Gwen’s closed eyes.
“Morgana.”
A touch of cool fingers on her neck, brushing upwards to cup her face, leaving a trail of fire over her skin. Gwen knew it was her, with her voice the same as it always had been, calling her by the name she insisted her friends use, but which Arthur had always ignored.
Morgana’s lightly accented, lilting tone, so different to Arthur’s formal, almost detached “Guinevere”
Gwen reached forwards, hands ghosting over the fabric of Morgana’s dress, up to her arms, down to delicate wrists, before her fingers finally settled around Morgana’s. She imagined how she had got up here; she must have flown, eyes shining gold.
“You’re back,” Gwen stated.
“I came to take you away.”
The tears that had been attacking the undersides of Gwen’s eyelids, for months now, finally broke through, sliding over her cheeks and under her nose, soaking over dark freckles which Morgana had laid her lips across so many times before.
Morgana, who had returned to save Gwen from this nightmare.
“My hands are tied, Morgana,” the words were pulled from her with a regret so intense it was like physical pain in her chest.
“No, Gwen, please. What have we to lose?”
“I’m married to him. I am queen now, and have a duty to Camelot, and a duty to the King. His reputation, if I left-“
“Who gives a damn?” Morgana interrupted, biting out the bitter question.
“He’s my friend,” Gwen whispered, “and he’s always been here for me.” The intent behind these words was clear: Arthur had never left. Morgana had never stayed long enough to say goodbye.
“I gave myself to you, but you wanted more than I had, Morgana, always more. I couldn’t run away with you... that wasn’t who I was. I couldn’t leave Camelot, when all you were back then was anger,” her arms were suddenly around Morgana’s waist, and her head resting against the other woman’s chest; Morgana tentatively ran her fingers through Gwen’s hair.
“It wasn’t who you were,” Morgana repeated, quietly, “who are you now, Gwen?”
“I can’t live with you,” Gwen answered her, “but I can’t live without you, either,” and they were both breathing so hard now, and Gwen’s eyes finally opened, deep orbs of brown to stare up at Morgana’s face, every line in it etched with old beauty, replaced now with something unearthly, cruel and stunning. Every pore of Morgana’s body invited Gwen in, and she just wanted to stand and look forever.
And then, they were walking together, back towards the ramparts, up onto one of the ledges, both of them smelling of rain, and shivering, and wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“I’m waiting for you,” Gwen told her, pressing a kiss to Morgana’s collar bone.
“I’m right here,” Morgana replied, confused, savouring the feel of those lips on her skin again. Gwen shook her head,
“You gave yourself away, when you turned against Arthur. I don’t know that you’ve returned yet. But I love you anyway.” And she took another step, so that they were teetering, then falling over the battlements.
Gwen never saw whether Morgana’s eyes melted to gold. All she knew was that she never hit the ground.
Pairing: Morgana/Gwen (secondary pairing: Merlin/Arthur)
Rating: PG-13
Summary:Every night, Gwen waits on the battlements. From there, she can easily hear the sounds of her husband, Arthur, and his manservant, together in the bedroom.
Then, Morgana finds her.
Based on the song 'With or Without You'
Also on A03 and FFnet
Gwen stood at the battlements, hands grasping at the stone barriers, looking down over Camelot in the dead of night, with the storm brewing overhead.
As she stood there, she felt the stones heavy in her eyes, like tears but painful, and locked inside. Back in her chambers, she knew, lay her husband and his manservant, Merlin, their bodies wrapped together. A gasp escaped through her lips, as she felt a sharp, twisting pull, as though someone had stabbed a thorn into her side.
But it was not Gwen who cried out; Merlin’s scream of ecstasy carried easily up to her ears. She wearily passed a hand over her face, breathing hard, waiting.
She did not begrudge Arthur his shared time with Merlin. She even went as far to encourage it, after the one time she had lain in Arthur’s bed, the day of their marriage. This king had spent the whole night whispering apologies into her hair, before it was over, and he gathered up his things and left her, to find somewhere else to sleep.
The first raindrops hit her face, the tip of her nose, as she remembered it. She had given Arthur everything that night, and yet they had both come away wanting more. Wanting what neither could give the other.
Now all that Gwen felt towards Arthur and Merlin was a shadow of old affection, and a cold jealousy. They had each other, whilst Gwen’s other half had vanished, only ever to be heard of in the corridors, when people whispered her name, talking of the torment she had brought upon the kingdom. And yet, still, the reluctant queen waited.
Another yell, harsh and guttural this time; Arthur’s. It was a sound Gwen had never managed to coax out of him, and she was glad of it. A shuddering breath rattled through her, and she stumbled backwards, with her eyes suddenly tight shut, in an effort to stop the world from spinning so violently.
Then, she froze, her pounding heart stuttering as she felt a whisper of something against her skin, a soft, light touch to her forehead. She couldn’t move, her head filled with Arthur and Merlin’s groans, and the now burning spot on her brow.
“Gwen,” it was so quiet, it was almost lost between the sex laden moans, coming from inside. Tears wet the edges of Gwen’s closed eyes.
“Morgana.”
A touch of cool fingers on her neck, brushing upwards to cup her face, leaving a trail of fire over her skin. Gwen knew it was her, with her voice the same as it always had been, calling her by the name she insisted her friends use, but which Arthur had always ignored.
Morgana’s lightly accented, lilting tone, so different to Arthur’s formal, almost detached “Guinevere”
Gwen reached forwards, hands ghosting over the fabric of Morgana’s dress, up to her arms, down to delicate wrists, before her fingers finally settled around Morgana’s. She imagined how she had got up here; she must have flown, eyes shining gold.
“You’re back,” Gwen stated.
“I came to take you away.”
The tears that had been attacking the undersides of Gwen’s eyelids, for months now, finally broke through, sliding over her cheeks and under her nose, soaking over dark freckles which Morgana had laid her lips across so many times before.
Morgana, who had returned to save Gwen from this nightmare.
“My hands are tied, Morgana,” the words were pulled from her with a regret so intense it was like physical pain in her chest.
“No, Gwen, please. What have we to lose?”
“I’m married to him. I am queen now, and have a duty to Camelot, and a duty to the King. His reputation, if I left-“
“Who gives a damn?” Morgana interrupted, biting out the bitter question.
“He’s my friend,” Gwen whispered, “and he’s always been here for me.” The intent behind these words was clear: Arthur had never left. Morgana had never stayed long enough to say goodbye.
“I gave myself to you, but you wanted more than I had, Morgana, always more. I couldn’t run away with you... that wasn’t who I was. I couldn’t leave Camelot, when all you were back then was anger,” her arms were suddenly around Morgana’s waist, and her head resting against the other woman’s chest; Morgana tentatively ran her fingers through Gwen’s hair.
“It wasn’t who you were,” Morgana repeated, quietly, “who are you now, Gwen?”
“I can’t live with you,” Gwen answered her, “but I can’t live without you, either,” and they were both breathing so hard now, and Gwen’s eyes finally opened, deep orbs of brown to stare up at Morgana’s face, every line in it etched with old beauty, replaced now with something unearthly, cruel and stunning. Every pore of Morgana’s body invited Gwen in, and she just wanted to stand and look forever.
And then, they were walking together, back towards the ramparts, up onto one of the ledges, both of them smelling of rain, and shivering, and wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“I’m waiting for you,” Gwen told her, pressing a kiss to Morgana’s collar bone.
“I’m right here,” Morgana replied, confused, savouring the feel of those lips on her skin again. Gwen shook her head,
“You gave yourself away, when you turned against Arthur. I don’t know that you’ve returned yet. But I love you anyway.” And she took another step, so that they were teetering, then falling over the battlements.
Gwen never saw whether Morgana’s eyes melted to gold. All she knew was that she never hit the ground.