Solstice Fic: Midsummer Night
Title: Midsummer Night
Author:
lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to
such_heights
Fandom: Merlin
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Gwen/Morgana, plus canon pairings.
Summary: On Midsummer Night, Gwen finds her heart's desire.
Rating: R
Spoilers: For all of S3
Disclaimer: The BBC and Shine legally own Merlin.
Word Count: Approx. 2,300 words.
A/N: Yes, I know it's the Winter Solstice for most of you (including for Gwen). But I'm Australian, so it's Summer Solstice for me.
So: HAPPY SOLSTICE, FLIST.
Cross-posted to AO3
Midsummer Night
The Summer Solstice celebrations in the first year of Arthur's reign were the biggest that Gwen could remember. The Old Religion and the New were brought together now; there would be no more innocents slain in the name of justice. It was still strange to see Merlin performing magic openly, but it was right too, somehow, as though everything fit into place.
Almost everything, at any rate.
Sometimes Gwen wondered if she could have done something more, something that could have saved Morgana and kept her with them.
"Gwen?" Beneath the table, Arthur's hand slipped into hers. "Is everything all right?"
Gwen smiled at the warmth of Arthur's palm against her own. "I'm just tired, that's all." There was no need to bring up painful memories, not now.
"No one would fault you if you wanted to retire now," Arthur told her. "It's been at least two hours since the sun set."
Gwen opened her mouth to protest, but before the words came, she realised that she was grateful for Arthur's suggestion. For all that she'd enjoyed the feast, a few moments for quiet contemplation would be welcome now. She'd use them to remember those who'd been lost--her father, and Morgana too; in so many ways the Morgana she'd known was dead now, though her body still lived and breathed.
"Thank you," said Gwen, squeezing Arthur's hand. "Give me a moment to gather myself?"
Arthur smiled. "Of course. I'll call Elyan to escort you to your rooms."
Her rooms. Here, in the castle. Gwen could still hardly believe that part of it. It seemed almost like a dream, too, when all the members of Arthur's court stood as she left the feasting hall on Elyan's arm. She was Lady Guinevere now, and Arthur's betrothed: the future Queen. The Knights bowed as she passed them, although Lancelot caught her eye before he lowered his head. Gwen tried to ignore the heat that rose to her cheeks when he did so.
Things might be right now--or almost right, anyway--but they were far from simple.
Gwen sighed with relief as they stepped out of the hall, and Elyan looked down at her, a smile playing about his lips.
"We've come a long way, haven't we?" he said quietly.
Gwen remembered the way that they'd played together, outside their father's forge, when they'd dreamed of nothing more than becoming a blacksmith and a lady's maid. "I left flowers on Father's grave today," she said.
Elyan pressed his lips to her forehead. "Thank you," he said.
They walked up a staircase together in comfortable silence. When they turned into the corridor that led to Gwen's rooms, she stopped, pulling Elyan to a halt.
"I can make my own way from here," she said. "You return to the feast."
Elyan hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Gwen nodded, and smiled at him. "To tell you the truth, I'm still not used to being escorted everywhere, as though I don't know my own way."
Elyan returned her smile. "You know this castle better than I do, that's for certain."
"You'll go back to the feast then?"
He pulled her into a hug. "There doesn't seem to be anyone lurking along this corridor," he said.
"Goodnight, Elyan," said Gwen, holding him close. "Don't let Gwaine drink too much, all right?"
Elyan laughed. "It's probably too late for that," he said. "But I"ll do my best."
Gwen watched as Elyan made his way back down the stairwell, then turned and began walking towards her rooms. This corridor had changed little since her days as Morgana's maid; Gwen almost thought that if she blinked, she could step back into that time--that she would find herself hurrying along to Morgana's chambers, her arms filled with a basket of laundry, and an ointment from the markets in her pocket; something she hoped might ease Morgana's bad dreams when Gaius's potions refused to work.
It would be so easy to imagine--
Stopping short, Gwen realised that she'd been so caught up in her memories that she'd walked straight past her rooms. Maybe she really did need someone to guide her. Gwen turned herself around, shaking her head.
And then she froze.
The corridor before her wasn't the one she'd just followed. Instead, a silver archway, covered with deep green vines, had appeared in front of her--and inside it, Gwen could see a forest, dark and light at the same time.
Part of her wanted to wanted to run, to make her way back into the corridor that was so familiar to her, but something wouldn't allow her to do that. Instead, she found herself drawn inexorably forward, into the forest. She gasped when she felt soil and fallen leaves beneath her feet; looking down, Gwen saw that the slippers she'd been wearing had disappeared, and her embroidered yellow gown had been replaced with a white slip that came to a ragged end at her knees. This wasn't the garb of a Lady, of the future Queen of Camelot, this was--Gwen didn't know what this was.
Gwen thought that perhaps she should be panicking, that she should be trying to run away, but somehow, this place filled her with peace, as though all of her worries had fallen away. The air was warm here, but fresh too, and so light that Gwen felt that she could almost fly by breathing.
The ground underneath her shifted, and suddenly she was standing in a glade, with grass beneath her feet. Gwen could see a figure walking towards her, through the trees, slim and lithe--but when when this person reached the edge of the glade, she hesitated, hidden by the trees.
"Who's there?" Gwen called.
"Gwen?" came a woman's voice--an all too familiar voice.
"Morgana," Gwen gasped. "My Lady." The honorific came to Gwen's lips without thought, and distantly, she wondered why didn't suspect a trap--why didn't she fear that Morgana had somehow lured her here, for ransom or worse?
Morgana stepped out from behind the trees; her pale green dress was longer than Gwen's, but still, it was nothing that she ever would have worn at Camelot.
"Gwen!" said Morgana again, and moments later Gwen found herself pulled into a warm embrace that she couldn't help but return--that embrace was so familiar to her that her arms moved by instinct.
"I'm so glad to see you," said Morgana, whispering into Gwen's hair. "I've missed you so much."
Gwen felt her throat grow tight. "I've missed you too."
Slowly, Gwen pulled back, so that she could look Morgana in the eye, and what she saw there made tears spring to her eyes. She knew now why she hadn't suspected a trap.
This was not the Morgana who had taken Camelot by force, who had tried to force the knights' loyalty with the deaths of commoners. This was not the Morgana who smiled as Gwen was sentenced to death. No--this was the Morgana that Gwen remembered from before all that. This was the woman who rode to Ealdor in the name of justice; the woman who defied Uther when her maid was taken prisoner. This was the woman who would kiss Gwen at night; the woman who had known every part of Gwen's body, the woman who had known her more deeply than anyone had since.
"It's really you," Gwen whispered.
"Of course it is," said Morgana, a tentative smile playing at her lips. "Who else would I be?"
That question was too difficult to answer, so instead of speaking Gwen kissed her, kissed her as hard as she could. That seemed to be enough, it seemed to be the right thing to do, because Morgana pulled her in closer, her hands tangling in Gwen's hair, and, oh, it had been too long--too long since Morgana had taken her like this, too long since she'd seen that light shining in Morgana's eyes.
This place--this fearsome, wonderful place--seemed to shift around them again, and Gwen found herself lying in the grass with Morgana beside her, their dresses gone now. And then Morgana was above her, kissing her again, before trailing her lips down Gwen's throat, and then across her breasts. Gwen wrapped her legs around Morgana's waist, and Morgana worked a hand between them.
No one--no one but Morgana could ever make her feel this way. She loved Arthur, and she loved Lance too, though she tried not to admit it--but only Morgana could break her apart and make her whole like this. Gwen cried out when Morgana pressed first one finger and then two inside of her; she pushed back against the palm of Morgana's hand, losing herself utterly in the rhythm of their bodies. Her moment of release was violent and peaceful at the same time; she shook as though the world was ending, while the glow inside her made her safe.
They held each other, after--after Gwen had rolled Morgana onto her back, and then lost herself, for a second time, with her mouth between Morgana's thighs--they held each other as Morgana shuddered with the aftershocks of her own release, and they didn't let go as their eyes grew heavy, as they drifted off together, as they had done so many times before.
The last thing Gwen remembered seeing before her own eyes closed was Morgana's face, peaceful in sleep.
***
***
"Gwen? Gwen?"
Gwen didn't want to open her eyes. She could still feel the impression of Morgana's head against her shoulder; she didn't want to lose it.
"Gwen?"
"Should I call Arthur?" came another voice.
No, Gwen thought. She didn't want Arthur worrying about her. She opened her eyes.
Merlin was crouching in front of her, with Gwaine standing behind him, evidently still capable of standing unassisted. Gwen realised that she was slouched in her own doorway--she must have been lying there all this time.
"I--I must have fallen asleep," she said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.
What would Merlin and Gwaine think of her? It must have appeared to them that she'd had too much wine. And what just happened to me? It had all felt so real.
Gwen looked up at Merlin, and saw him gazing at her with concern, but no judgement--Merlin, at least, wouldn't jump to conclusions.
"What brought you here?" she asked, looking from Merlin to Gwaine and back again.
"Uh--" said Merlin.
"Merlin," said Gwaine with a grin, "Is about to lose a bet."
Gwen pulled her shoulders back, trying to stretch her cramped muscles, but should couldn't help smiling at Gwaine's expression. "And I suppose Arthur knows that one of his Knights and his Court Sorcerer are gambling together?"
Gwaine had the decency to look bashful, but Merlin simply continued to look at her, a curious expression in his eyes.
"I told Gwaine a story," said Merlin softly. "Gwaine bet me that it wasn't true."
"A story?" Gwen asked.
"I've been studying the legends of the Old Religion since Arthur became King. Some of them are true and others aren't," said Merlin. "There was one about Camelot on Midsummer Night." Merlin's voice was low; enchanting.
"What does the legend say?"
"It says that every year in Camelot, on Midsummer Night, a doorway appears to one whose heart is worthy. For an hour, it grants the chosen one their deepest wish. And... the legend also says that the land beyond the doorways always remembers the impression of those who have been there before--that it somehow makes a record of the true self of all who enter there. It's said that you can meet others in this place--others who have been there before you."
Behind Merlin, Gwaine laughed. "Even if it were true, I doubt that either Merlin or I are pure enough of heart to ever find the place. Merlin will owe me three gold sovereigns before sunrise."
But Gwen barely heard Gwaine's words. For the first time since she'd woken, Gwen found her eyes filling with tears, just as they had done when she'd seen Morgana--or the memory of her that the place had etched into itself.
"Gwen?" said Merlin. "Are you all right?"
"I--I just need sleep, Merlin," she said. "And it's a beautiful story. I hope it's true."
Merlin looked at her strangely then, as though he suspected that she was keeping something from him, but he said nothing. Perhaps he knew that the land beyond the silver archway was a place of secrets--that it wasn't always possible to share the things that happened there.
"Allow me to help you to your feet, my Lady," said Gwaine, stepping up beside Merlin and extending a hand. "You're tired, and I am obliged to assist Merlin in his futile search."
Gwen shook her head, but she took Gwaine's hand briefly as she stood. He was a good man, as were all the Knights that Arthur had gathered 'round him. Camelot was rich and strong, and its people were happy and unpersecuted.
And somewhere, outside its borders, was a woman whose true self would be remembered here on Midsummer Night, even if she herself had forgotten it.
"Goodnight, Merlin, Gwaine," said Gwen, inclining her head to both of them in turn. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
Gwen unlocked the door to her rooms and stepped inside, closing it softly behind her. She heard Merlin and Gwaine continue on their way, the banter quick and lively between them. She looked across the room to her bed--the bed that had been Morgana's once--and sighed as she remembered the nights that they'd spent there. Closing her eyes, Gwen leaned back against the finely carved door-frame, remembering the sensation of Morgana's fingers on her skin.
That was past now--Arthur was her future, and Lance was the future she'd never have--and there was no point in fixating on things that couldn't be changed.
She could remember though--and her memories would sing through time.
Author:
lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to
such_heights
Fandom: Merlin
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Gwen/Morgana, plus canon pairings.
Summary: On Midsummer Night, Gwen finds her heart's desire.
Rating: R
Spoilers: For all of S3
Disclaimer: The BBC and Shine legally own Merlin.
Word Count: Approx. 2,300 words.
A/N: Yes, I know it's the Winter Solstice for most of you (including for Gwen). But I'm Australian, so it's Summer Solstice for me.
So: HAPPY SOLSTICE, FLIST.
Cross-posted to AO3
Midsummer Night
The Summer Solstice celebrations in the first year of Arthur's reign were the biggest that Gwen could remember. The Old Religion and the New were brought together now; there would be no more innocents slain in the name of justice. It was still strange to see Merlin performing magic openly, but it was right too, somehow, as though everything fit into place.
Almost everything, at any rate.
Sometimes Gwen wondered if she could have done something more, something that could have saved Morgana and kept her with them.
"Gwen?" Beneath the table, Arthur's hand slipped into hers. "Is everything all right?"
Gwen smiled at the warmth of Arthur's palm against her own. "I'm just tired, that's all." There was no need to bring up painful memories, not now.
"No one would fault you if you wanted to retire now," Arthur told her. "It's been at least two hours since the sun set."
Gwen opened her mouth to protest, but before the words came, she realised that she was grateful for Arthur's suggestion. For all that she'd enjoyed the feast, a few moments for quiet contemplation would be welcome now. She'd use them to remember those who'd been lost--her father, and Morgana too; in so many ways the Morgana she'd known was dead now, though her body still lived and breathed.
"Thank you," said Gwen, squeezing Arthur's hand. "Give me a moment to gather myself?"
Arthur smiled. "Of course. I'll call Elyan to escort you to your rooms."
Her rooms. Here, in the castle. Gwen could still hardly believe that part of it. It seemed almost like a dream, too, when all the members of Arthur's court stood as she left the feasting hall on Elyan's arm. She was Lady Guinevere now, and Arthur's betrothed: the future Queen. The Knights bowed as she passed them, although Lancelot caught her eye before he lowered his head. Gwen tried to ignore the heat that rose to her cheeks when he did so.
Things might be right now--or almost right, anyway--but they were far from simple.
Gwen sighed with relief as they stepped out of the hall, and Elyan looked down at her, a smile playing about his lips.
"We've come a long way, haven't we?" he said quietly.
Gwen remembered the way that they'd played together, outside their father's forge, when they'd dreamed of nothing more than becoming a blacksmith and a lady's maid. "I left flowers on Father's grave today," she said.
Elyan pressed his lips to her forehead. "Thank you," he said.
They walked up a staircase together in comfortable silence. When they turned into the corridor that led to Gwen's rooms, she stopped, pulling Elyan to a halt.
"I can make my own way from here," she said. "You return to the feast."
Elyan hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Gwen nodded, and smiled at him. "To tell you the truth, I'm still not used to being escorted everywhere, as though I don't know my own way."
Elyan returned her smile. "You know this castle better than I do, that's for certain."
"You'll go back to the feast then?"
He pulled her into a hug. "There doesn't seem to be anyone lurking along this corridor," he said.
"Goodnight, Elyan," said Gwen, holding him close. "Don't let Gwaine drink too much, all right?"
Elyan laughed. "It's probably too late for that," he said. "But I"ll do my best."
Gwen watched as Elyan made his way back down the stairwell, then turned and began walking towards her rooms. This corridor had changed little since her days as Morgana's maid; Gwen almost thought that if she blinked, she could step back into that time--that she would find herself hurrying along to Morgana's chambers, her arms filled with a basket of laundry, and an ointment from the markets in her pocket; something she hoped might ease Morgana's bad dreams when Gaius's potions refused to work.
It would be so easy to imagine--
Stopping short, Gwen realised that she'd been so caught up in her memories that she'd walked straight past her rooms. Maybe she really did need someone to guide her. Gwen turned herself around, shaking her head.
And then she froze.
The corridor before her wasn't the one she'd just followed. Instead, a silver archway, covered with deep green vines, had appeared in front of her--and inside it, Gwen could see a forest, dark and light at the same time.
Part of her wanted to wanted to run, to make her way back into the corridor that was so familiar to her, but something wouldn't allow her to do that. Instead, she found herself drawn inexorably forward, into the forest. She gasped when she felt soil and fallen leaves beneath her feet; looking down, Gwen saw that the slippers she'd been wearing had disappeared, and her embroidered yellow gown had been replaced with a white slip that came to a ragged end at her knees. This wasn't the garb of a Lady, of the future Queen of Camelot, this was--Gwen didn't know what this was.
Gwen thought that perhaps she should be panicking, that she should be trying to run away, but somehow, this place filled her with peace, as though all of her worries had fallen away. The air was warm here, but fresh too, and so light that Gwen felt that she could almost fly by breathing.
The ground underneath her shifted, and suddenly she was standing in a glade, with grass beneath her feet. Gwen could see a figure walking towards her, through the trees, slim and lithe--but when when this person reached the edge of the glade, she hesitated, hidden by the trees.
"Who's there?" Gwen called.
"Gwen?" came a woman's voice--an all too familiar voice.
"Morgana," Gwen gasped. "My Lady." The honorific came to Gwen's lips without thought, and distantly, she wondered why didn't suspect a trap--why didn't she fear that Morgana had somehow lured her here, for ransom or worse?
Morgana stepped out from behind the trees; her pale green dress was longer than Gwen's, but still, it was nothing that she ever would have worn at Camelot.
"Gwen!" said Morgana again, and moments later Gwen found herself pulled into a warm embrace that she couldn't help but return--that embrace was so familiar to her that her arms moved by instinct.
"I'm so glad to see you," said Morgana, whispering into Gwen's hair. "I've missed you so much."
Gwen felt her throat grow tight. "I've missed you too."
Slowly, Gwen pulled back, so that she could look Morgana in the eye, and what she saw there made tears spring to her eyes. She knew now why she hadn't suspected a trap.
This was not the Morgana who had taken Camelot by force, who had tried to force the knights' loyalty with the deaths of commoners. This was not the Morgana who smiled as Gwen was sentenced to death. No--this was the Morgana that Gwen remembered from before all that. This was the woman who rode to Ealdor in the name of justice; the woman who defied Uther when her maid was taken prisoner. This was the woman who would kiss Gwen at night; the woman who had known every part of Gwen's body, the woman who had known her more deeply than anyone had since.
"It's really you," Gwen whispered.
"Of course it is," said Morgana, a tentative smile playing at her lips. "Who else would I be?"
That question was too difficult to answer, so instead of speaking Gwen kissed her, kissed her as hard as she could. That seemed to be enough, it seemed to be the right thing to do, because Morgana pulled her in closer, her hands tangling in Gwen's hair, and, oh, it had been too long--too long since Morgana had taken her like this, too long since she'd seen that light shining in Morgana's eyes.
This place--this fearsome, wonderful place--seemed to shift around them again, and Gwen found herself lying in the grass with Morgana beside her, their dresses gone now. And then Morgana was above her, kissing her again, before trailing her lips down Gwen's throat, and then across her breasts. Gwen wrapped her legs around Morgana's waist, and Morgana worked a hand between them.
No one--no one but Morgana could ever make her feel this way. She loved Arthur, and she loved Lance too, though she tried not to admit it--but only Morgana could break her apart and make her whole like this. Gwen cried out when Morgana pressed first one finger and then two inside of her; she pushed back against the palm of Morgana's hand, losing herself utterly in the rhythm of their bodies. Her moment of release was violent and peaceful at the same time; she shook as though the world was ending, while the glow inside her made her safe.
They held each other, after--after Gwen had rolled Morgana onto her back, and then lost herself, for a second time, with her mouth between Morgana's thighs--they held each other as Morgana shuddered with the aftershocks of her own release, and they didn't let go as their eyes grew heavy, as they drifted off together, as they had done so many times before.
The last thing Gwen remembered seeing before her own eyes closed was Morgana's face, peaceful in sleep.
***
***
"Gwen? Gwen?"
Gwen didn't want to open her eyes. She could still feel the impression of Morgana's head against her shoulder; she didn't want to lose it.
"Gwen?"
"Should I call Arthur?" came another voice.
No, Gwen thought. She didn't want Arthur worrying about her. She opened her eyes.
Merlin was crouching in front of her, with Gwaine standing behind him, evidently still capable of standing unassisted. Gwen realised that she was slouched in her own doorway--she must have been lying there all this time.
"I--I must have fallen asleep," she said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.
What would Merlin and Gwaine think of her? It must have appeared to them that she'd had too much wine. And what just happened to me? It had all felt so real.
Gwen looked up at Merlin, and saw him gazing at her with concern, but no judgement--Merlin, at least, wouldn't jump to conclusions.
"What brought you here?" she asked, looking from Merlin to Gwaine and back again.
"Uh--" said Merlin.
"Merlin," said Gwaine with a grin, "Is about to lose a bet."
Gwen pulled her shoulders back, trying to stretch her cramped muscles, but should couldn't help smiling at Gwaine's expression. "And I suppose Arthur knows that one of his Knights and his Court Sorcerer are gambling together?"
Gwaine had the decency to look bashful, but Merlin simply continued to look at her, a curious expression in his eyes.
"I told Gwaine a story," said Merlin softly. "Gwaine bet me that it wasn't true."
"A story?" Gwen asked.
"I've been studying the legends of the Old Religion since Arthur became King. Some of them are true and others aren't," said Merlin. "There was one about Camelot on Midsummer Night." Merlin's voice was low; enchanting.
"What does the legend say?"
"It says that every year in Camelot, on Midsummer Night, a doorway appears to one whose heart is worthy. For an hour, it grants the chosen one their deepest wish. And... the legend also says that the land beyond the doorways always remembers the impression of those who have been there before--that it somehow makes a record of the true self of all who enter there. It's said that you can meet others in this place--others who have been there before you."
Behind Merlin, Gwaine laughed. "Even if it were true, I doubt that either Merlin or I are pure enough of heart to ever find the place. Merlin will owe me three gold sovereigns before sunrise."
But Gwen barely heard Gwaine's words. For the first time since she'd woken, Gwen found her eyes filling with tears, just as they had done when she'd seen Morgana--or the memory of her that the place had etched into itself.
"Gwen?" said Merlin. "Are you all right?"
"I--I just need sleep, Merlin," she said. "And it's a beautiful story. I hope it's true."
Merlin looked at her strangely then, as though he suspected that she was keeping something from him, but he said nothing. Perhaps he knew that the land beyond the silver archway was a place of secrets--that it wasn't always possible to share the things that happened there.
"Allow me to help you to your feet, my Lady," said Gwaine, stepping up beside Merlin and extending a hand. "You're tired, and I am obliged to assist Merlin in his futile search."
Gwen shook her head, but she took Gwaine's hand briefly as she stood. He was a good man, as were all the Knights that Arthur had gathered 'round him. Camelot was rich and strong, and its people were happy and unpersecuted.
And somewhere, outside its borders, was a woman whose true self would be remembered here on Midsummer Night, even if she herself had forgotten it.
"Goodnight, Merlin, Gwaine," said Gwen, inclining her head to both of them in turn. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
Gwen unlocked the door to her rooms and stepped inside, closing it softly behind her. She heard Merlin and Gwaine continue on their way, the banter quick and lively between them. She looked across the room to her bed--the bed that had been Morgana's once--and sighed as she remembered the nights that they'd spent there. Closing her eyes, Gwen leaned back against the finely carved door-frame, remembering the sensation of Morgana's fingers on her skin.
That was past now--Arthur was her future, and Lance was the future she'd never have--and there was no point in fixating on things that couldn't be changed.
She could remember though--and her memories would sing through time.