Fic:The Path
Title: The Path
Genre: Romance/friendship
Characters & Pairings: Morgana/Gwen, slight mention of Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Nothing particular.
Summary: After Uther’s death things start to change in Camelot, especially for Gwen and Morgana.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BBC’s Merlin.
Notes: This story involves character death but nothing in detail. This is a bit more substantial than my other fics and I let myself go a bit more with language use. I hope you like it!
After Uther died things changed in Camelot, magic was once again permitted and the people were no longer afraid of their king. This, Morgana had warned, could lead to loss of power but the amount of respect the new king had from his subjects meant that holding onto power was a less arduous task than might have been expected. Soon Camelot had sorcerers and sorceresses coming out of its ears, the population remained the same but many of its citizens revealed their hidden gifts. None of those revelations surprised Arthur more than Morgana’s. He had all but fainted when he found out, hearing it instead from Merlin than from Morgana herself, he hadn’t at first believed it but when he had caught her calming her horse in a foreign tongue the evidence appeared irrefutable. In the months that followed a treaty was made with the druids (although neither party seemed happy with the compromises made) and Merlin and Morgana took titles as court sorcerer and seer respectively, making Camelot one of the most envied kingdoms in the land.
Morgana had met a fork in the road of her life on that fateful day and had been careening down a new and unforeseen path ever since. Gwen had teased her lightly about not foreseeing this change in events but Morgana always just smiled fondly and said that sometimes the good things get lost in the bad, not presenting themselves in as forceful ways in her dreams and so often forgotten by morning, or else thought a dream not of premonition but of longing or desire. Despite not quite understanding this Gwen always nodded back and busied herself with unlacing Morgana from her gown or running a brush through her hair as it was so often that they were in such close quarters when the subject came up. The undisturbed nights had become more frequent as Morgana practiced her gifts and began to see things on will or in the light of day. With this delightful development came a quiet happiness in Morgana that Gwen had not seen in a long time, a peacefulness that allowed the two to spend great lengths of time wandering around the gardens or visiting the woods and fields around the city.
As these sunshine days turned into honey-sweet weeks and warm pleasant months Morgana and Gwen began to grow closer. They no longer seemed to go from crisis to crisis, all under the gaze of a repressive king, and the periods of ‘normality’ in the castle became longer and more frequent. Morgana had begun to teach Gwen a few simple incantations to ease her workload and soon the maid’s free time began to increase dramatically and Morgana moved onto teaching her new things like poetry and literacy. Gwen could write before but her words were blunt and did not flow, something Morgana thought so unbefitting to such a gentle girl. By the first anniversary of Uther’s death (for which no official cause of death had ever been found) the two women behaved not as mistress and maid at all but as friends and companions, spending lazy days spread beneath an old oak tree reading verse and prose and conversing about all cultured things that Gwen was learning.
When spring came by again it was decided that it was foolish for Gwen to keep the blacksmiths’ house and workshop when it only served to make her nights lonely. After a brief ‘conversation’ between Morgana and Arthur it was decided that Gwen couldn’t possibly be expected to live in the servant’s quarters and so would be set up in Morgana’s chambers as ‘an aid to a productive night’s sleep’ as Morgana had so convincingly put it, persuading Arthur of the possible seer related advantages of the arrangement.
Gwen’s attire gradually became finer and nobler as Morgana showered her with gifts from Assyria and Mesopotamia down to the finery of the African aristocracy. It wasn’t long before Gwen was no longer seen as a servant by Camelot but as one of her Ladies, part of her finery. Camelot had received its share of envy when Morgana alone was presented at feasts and ceremonies but now, with Guinevere by her side, they were truly admired and coveted. No questions were ever raised over the appearance of Gwen as part of high society and Morgana’s ever present companion but Arthur had begun to worry that his court was getting a rather un-Albion reputation for fluidity between classes and relationships. He soon had his qualms stilled by Merlin’s guiding hand as they fell into a comfortable new relationship that was neither flaunted to nor denied to the people.
“Uther would be furious if he could see his kingdom now.” Morgana thought aloud, watching an interaction between Arthur and Merlin from her window.
“I suppose he would.” Agreed Gwen whose posture had improved with the innovation of her identity as Guinevere to all those who were not Morgana, Merlin, Arthur and Gaius. “But Uther’s Camelot is beyond living memory of the children who now play in the streets, perhaps we should forget too.”
“That is a luxury we cannot afford.” Morgana continued to gaze down from her window. “History will repeat itself if we forget it.”
“It is too fresh to be history.” Gwen reminded her. “Maybe forgetting for a while would do no harm.”
“Then by the time it is remembered it will be naught but legend, and where is the use in legend?” Morgana turned and smiled softly, showing that the conversation was still light.
“Quite.” Gwen smirked. “All legends did when I was a child was fill me with expectations of white knights and adventure’s with griffins and dragons.”
Morgana laughed quietly, conceding to Gwen’s point on adventures with mythical creatures. “Very well, but where is your white knight?” Morgana challenged.
“Knight’s are overrated but I do know a woman whose skills with a sword rival that of the kings.” Gwen blushed as she said it, turning to hide her embarrassment.
“Rival? Arthur is no match for me.” Morgana sat down beside her on the bed and took her hand in a way that they so often did, hoping to reassure her.
“You’re so sure I was talking of you.” Gwen smiled, turning back.
“I am a seer.”
“How could I forget?” Gwen’s question was rhetorical and more of an acknowledgement than a reply.
“Do you remember when I told you that the good things are hard to see? That they are blurred by the bad?” Morgana asked, hoping for an answer in the affirmative if her plan was to be successful, after all she had steered them into this conversation on purpose.
“I do.” Gwen nodded.
“Well, things have changed. There is a good that presents itself so crystal clear that it is impossible not to see.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve been seeing you... and me and...”
“Us?” Gwen offered, an encouraging smile threatening to break through.
“Right, and us.” Morgana continued. “Things have changed so much that things I once thought impossible now seem inevitable, unavoidable. This path the I took after Uther died, I haven’t been traversing it alone, and I feel that whatever path or destiny we once had apart has faded or converged or something. There are things that people expect of us that we are so close to so unable to naturally go. Some things have to be initiated after a certain point no matter how much the initiation scares me I don’t think I can live without it any longer. What I’m trying to say is...”
Morgana’s speech was cut short by the gentle pressure of lips against her own, a pressure she hastily reciprocated, moaning and moaning again when the parting of her lips had allowed Gwen’s insistent tongue to slip into her mouth. The moaning continued long after the sun went down as those gowns from Assyria and Mesopotamia down to the finery of the African aristocracy fell from both their bodies and hands and lips and tongues mapped the hills and valleys of each other’s bodies. When the sun rose again in Camelot everything was different yet so blissfully the same.