Merlin fic: Longing
Title: Longing
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Pairing: Morgana/Morgause (unrequited, possibly)
Length: 522 words
Summary: She thinks that she would do anything, be anyone or anything for Morgause, for the woman who has given her a purpose and a destiny and emotions.
Warnings: Incestuous thoughts, a severe lack of dialogue, and lots of parentheses.
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the show up to episode one of the third season
Notes: I blame Apocalyptica's 'Farewell', Regina Spektor's cover of 'Hallelujah', comments about Morgana/Morgause with pineapplepeople , the severe lack of screentime for the characters in the last two episodes (I haven't seen the latest yet), and a persistent image of Morgana becoming obsessed with Morgause for this story.
She doesn’t know how to define this, the power and longing and the internal pleadings. Sometimes, she thinks she will break with the intensity of the emotions swirling inside her, sometimes she thinks it is only her magic keeping her together, her power making sure she will live so she can be there to witness their plans grow to fruition. At night, when she is alone and her eyes stay open to the darkness (she no longer sleeps to have visions, can see the future unfolding before them, down a straight path that they have forged) she twists and writhes with her emotions, with the pull that longing lends to her wish to be by Morgause’s side.
Morgana does not know when her protector, the woman who calls her words like “sister dear” and tells her tales of magic and might, became the woman she thinks of in the part of her mind she has always feared, the part of her that wants Morgause to whisper tender words of devotion over her skin as her hand glides up Morgana’s thigh. Sometimes, Morgana lets herself think that it has always been like this, even when Morgana did not know her, that she has always felt strong emotions (emotions like love except that one word doesn’t do the feelings justice, does not adequately explain the depth of pain and misery that accompanies the softer, tender feelings) for Morgause, their souls calling to each other across the chasm of separation and through the barriers of skin and bone and wood and stone.
Morgause tells her about their entwined destinies, her serious eyes studying Morgana’s face as she expands upon the subject of Uther’s treachery, the murders of people just like them, innocent people forced to live in constant fear, and a gentle smile tugs at the corner of her mouth (the right side, the thinner side, twitching upward, the full bottom lip threatening to follow) as she takes in Morgana’s reactions (pain betrayal fear fury determination). Morgause teaches her, standing behind her and directing her movements as she learns magic (as she finds the true beauty of the world in her own mind, as she feels her powers expand within in her, twining with her feelings until Morgana feels like the might choke on the excess) and Morgana nearly breaks whenever Morgause moves away after gently placing her hand or elbow or foot into the proper position.
When Morgana is alone in bed, tossing and turning and refusing to cry out in longing, refusing to give into the temptation to imagine Morgause in bed beside her (on top of her, beneath her, writhing, moaning, pleading) until she has fought against her own imagination with all her might (weaker, weaker every evening) she thinks that she would do anything, be anyone or anything for Morgause, for the woman who has given her a purpose and a destiny and emotions.
(That weakness scares her less and less each time she looks into Morgause’s eyes ---brown brown brown the colour seeping into Morgana’s dreams until that is all she can see, her whole body alight with desire).
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Pairing: Morgana/Morgause (unrequited, possibly)
Length: 522 words
Summary: She thinks that she would do anything, be anyone or anything for Morgause, for the woman who has given her a purpose and a destiny and emotions.
Warnings: Incestuous thoughts, a severe lack of dialogue, and lots of parentheses.
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the show up to episode one of the third season
Notes: I blame Apocalyptica's 'Farewell', Regina Spektor's cover of 'Hallelujah', comments about Morgana/Morgause with pineapplepeople , the severe lack of screentime for the characters in the last two episodes (I haven't seen the latest yet), and a persistent image of Morgana becoming obsessed with Morgause for this story.
She doesn’t know how to define this, the power and longing and the internal pleadings. Sometimes, she thinks she will break with the intensity of the emotions swirling inside her, sometimes she thinks it is only her magic keeping her together, her power making sure she will live so she can be there to witness their plans grow to fruition. At night, when she is alone and her eyes stay open to the darkness (she no longer sleeps to have visions, can see the future unfolding before them, down a straight path that they have forged) she twists and writhes with her emotions, with the pull that longing lends to her wish to be by Morgause’s side.
Morgana does not know when her protector, the woman who calls her words like “sister dear” and tells her tales of magic and might, became the woman she thinks of in the part of her mind she has always feared, the part of her that wants Morgause to whisper tender words of devotion over her skin as her hand glides up Morgana’s thigh. Sometimes, Morgana lets herself think that it has always been like this, even when Morgana did not know her, that she has always felt strong emotions (emotions like love except that one word doesn’t do the feelings justice, does not adequately explain the depth of pain and misery that accompanies the softer, tender feelings) for Morgause, their souls calling to each other across the chasm of separation and through the barriers of skin and bone and wood and stone.
Morgause tells her about their entwined destinies, her serious eyes studying Morgana’s face as she expands upon the subject of Uther’s treachery, the murders of people just like them, innocent people forced to live in constant fear, and a gentle smile tugs at the corner of her mouth (the right side, the thinner side, twitching upward, the full bottom lip threatening to follow) as she takes in Morgana’s reactions (pain betrayal fear fury determination). Morgause teaches her, standing behind her and directing her movements as she learns magic (as she finds the true beauty of the world in her own mind, as she feels her powers expand within in her, twining with her feelings until Morgana feels like the might choke on the excess) and Morgana nearly breaks whenever Morgause moves away after gently placing her hand or elbow or foot into the proper position.
When Morgana is alone in bed, tossing and turning and refusing to cry out in longing, refusing to give into the temptation to imagine Morgause in bed beside her (on top of her, beneath her, writhing, moaning, pleading) until she has fought against her own imagination with all her might (weaker, weaker every evening) she thinks that she would do anything, be anyone or anything for Morgause, for the woman who has given her a purpose and a destiny and emotions.
(That weakness scares her less and less each time she looks into Morgause’s eyes ---brown brown brown the colour seeping into Morgana’s dreams until that is all she can see, her whole body alight with desire).