All Day And All Of The Night (Morgana/Morgause)
Title: All Day And All Of The Night
Fandom: Merlin
Characters & Pairings: Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,500
Summary: Set during Morgana's year away from Camelot. Morgana discovers an interesting talent and decides to practice on Morgause.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, this is purely for entertainment purposes.
Notes: Written for timelady2 as an exchange of sorts.
It turned out, that where magic was concerned, Morgana was a natural. Within a week of being declared well enough to leave her bed - which Morgause had been considerably reluctant to allow her to do, given the certain advantages of Morgana’s position - she had mastered basic control of the summoning of the four elements and had given inventing a fifth a considerably good go, if only to spite the world’s inordinate fondness for even numbers. By the time the moon had cycled once in the sky, she had learnt not only the basics of the old language but had also become quite adept at distinguishing and using nominative, accusative, genitive and dative cases (though the instrumental case eluded her). At the end of the second cycle she could construct simple spells and had learnt the sacrifices called for by each deity in return for favour and power. Half way through the winter, she was running circles around her bemused sister.
“I can feel that, Morgana,” Morgause warned as she dipped her quill back into the ink.
Morgana laughed from her position lounging in front of the fire. Propped up on one elbow on top of the thick fur rug, she could just about make out the smile that her sister was trying to hide. “That was the idea.”
Head still bowed in study, Morgause ignored the tingling at her neck, even as her golden hair was brushed aside. As happy as she was that Morgana had discovered a talent for not requiring speaking a spell aloud in order to wield it, it was proving to be rather distracting. She had an idea that the increased voracity with which Morgana was endeavouring to garner her attentions at the present moment had to with the intended recipient of the letter she was working on. Unwilling to let her younger sister win, she muttered her own charm to bind her hair in a plait, removing it from temptation.
There was an indignant gasp from over near the fire, promptly followed by the feel of her hair once again cascading over her shoulders.
“My patience can only be pushed so far,” she cautioned. “There is a point at which I break.”
“And I greatly enjoy pushing you over that point,” Morgana countered, abandoning watching Morgause work in favour of flopping onto her back and watching the firelight dace on the wooden beams that spanned the stone walls.
“Greater sorcerers than you have paid for that kind of insolence with their lives.” Morgause’s ire was beginning to flare, her quill scratching sharply as she applied excessive pressure in her irritation.
“Though none can boast what I can, none have what hold over you I possess,” Morgana said slowly, picturing her blonde companion in her mind’s eye and running a hand down her spine. A sharp intake of breath told her that Morgause had felt it.
“That is true,” Morgause conceded, “though even you have you limits.”
For a while at least this seemed to quell Morgana. She was well aware that her sister did not have boundless tolerance and that if she pushed her too far, she would pay for it. However, what she was also well aware of was that no matter what she did, Morgause would never really hurt her. It was something she took great pride in, her ability to tame the Sorceress’ mighty tempest. No one else would ever even come close.
“Surely he cannot require such placation, that you are still writing? How many pages is it now?” Morgana said eventually, growing increasingly impatient. She refused to say the wretched king’s name, even the replacement ‘he’ left a bitter taste on her tongue.
“Now, now, Morgana, we must be understanding of other’s weaker dispositions. Not everyone can have a will of iron.” She looked up at Morgana for the first time, a sly smile playing on her lips. “King Cenred requires certain... encouragements to perform.”
Morgana’s face twisted in distaste. “And men think that we are the weaker sex.”
“No, they just wish that we were,” Morgause said, scratching her name at the bottom of the parchment and reclining in her chair. “If they all believe it, they think it will become true.”
“A deluded kind, aren’t they?” Morgana said, playing with a lock of her hair. At first she had struggled without Gwen to see to her, but Morgause could get her from bedclothes to the best she had ever looked with the flick of a wrist, and that had been the end of that worry.
“Delusion is a valuable thing. Do not forget that we ourselves rely on it.” Throwing the quill down, she stood up, pushing the chair back with a satisfying squeak. “Within these walls we may be free... but without them there are a number of illusions that others must believe.”
“Illusions,” Morgana repeated, trying out the word and finding it wanting. “A pretty word for empty promises.”
“Surely you do not feel sorry for our dear friend Cenred?” Morgause teased, slowly walking towards Morgana.
At that, Morgana scoffed. “Not him. I just... I feel bad for someone I left behind, someone I know I must deceive when I return.”
Morgause laughed lightly. “Need I be jealous? I have heard that the Knights of Camelot are an impressive band.”
“If you could believe that of me, then you know nothing of me at all,” Morgana said, her eyes distant, still looking skywards. “The person of whom I speak is infinitely fairer.”
“And does she pose a problem to our plans? Is she distraction enough that you would turn from me, from our plans?” Morgause already knew the answer, though that did not prevent a sting of jealousy. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to.
“No,” Morgana said thoughtfully, “but she may give me reason to pause, when I return. You must allow me that at very least. I do have a heart.” She said it not in a way that suggested that Morgause did not have a heart, for she did, but to remind her sister that there were others that had been dear to her.
“Of course,” Morgause agreed. “Maybe she could be useful?” It was less of a question and more of a thought she had spoken aloud in order to gage Morgana’s reaction. Long before she had come to Camelot, Morgause had been watching Morgana, she knew of whom she spoke and that she might be enough to pose a problem.
Blinking up at the ceiling, Morgana said, “I do not wish to talk of her any more. Not now. She was the closest thing I had to family before you.”
Frowning slightly, Morgause said, “As you wish.” At the edge of the fur rug, she halted her approach and bent down to unlace her boots. Morgana was very particular about that sort of thing; no boots on the fur; no sharpening or cleaning of weaponry in the bedroom or evening room; most of all, absolutely no dead things in the house unless they were in the kitchen or on a plate. It was a good job that Morgause was fond of her. Kicking the boots aside, she wiggled her freed toes and stepped onto the warm fur, luxuriating in the feel of it. “Now,” she said, dropping to her knees, “I believe you wanted my attentions.”
When Morgana turned to her with an impish smile, she was met with an equally playful smile and twinkling eyes. “I believe that I did.” She raised herself on her elbows, tossing her dark hair in shimmering waves.
“I always... endeavour... to provide you with what you... desire,” Morgause said, painfully slowly, emphasising each and every word. As she said it, she leant forward, placing a hand for balance either side of Morgana.
“What I desire, is your undivided attention for one whole day,” Morgana requested, her breathing quickening and her confidence dipping as Morgause trapped her where she lay. “No talk of Uther, Camelot or Cenred.”
A rich laugh bubbled from Morgause’s throat. “An entire day?”
Gathering her resolve, Morgana answered, “From dusk till dusk.” Her eyes flicked between the blonde’s dark eyes and her moistened lips as anticipation drove her breath quicker and quicker with every closing inch.
Hovering inches from consummating the kiss, Morgause flicked her gaze out of the high arched window to the bright disk of the moon and back down to sea green eyes. “How about from when the moon is highest in the sky until it climaxes once again?” Receiving her answering nod, she sealed the kiss.
“I love you,” Morgana gasped between kisses, prone as she was to sentimentality is such situations. Excitement coiled low in her stomach, mounting higher and higher as she felt the length of Morgause’s body weighing down on her.
Morgause pulled back and smiled in satisfaction.
“Say it,” Morgana pleaded, not caring how weak Morgause would think her for it.
“I,” Morgause began, kissing Morgana’s top lip, “love,” she moved to her lower lip, sucking on it gently, “You.”
Eyes gleaming in obvious delight, Morgana trailed her hand up the back of Morgause’s neck bringing them together again.
Fandom: Merlin
Characters & Pairings: Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,500
Summary: Set during Morgana's year away from Camelot. Morgana discovers an interesting talent and decides to practice on Morgause.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, this is purely for entertainment purposes.
Notes: Written for timelady2 as an exchange of sorts.
It turned out, that where magic was concerned, Morgana was a natural. Within a week of being declared well enough to leave her bed - which Morgause had been considerably reluctant to allow her to do, given the certain advantages of Morgana’s position - she had mastered basic control of the summoning of the four elements and had given inventing a fifth a considerably good go, if only to spite the world’s inordinate fondness for even numbers. By the time the moon had cycled once in the sky, she had learnt not only the basics of the old language but had also become quite adept at distinguishing and using nominative, accusative, genitive and dative cases (though the instrumental case eluded her). At the end of the second cycle she could construct simple spells and had learnt the sacrifices called for by each deity in return for favour and power. Half way through the winter, she was running circles around her bemused sister.
“I can feel that, Morgana,” Morgause warned as she dipped her quill back into the ink.
Morgana laughed from her position lounging in front of the fire. Propped up on one elbow on top of the thick fur rug, she could just about make out the smile that her sister was trying to hide. “That was the idea.”
Head still bowed in study, Morgause ignored the tingling at her neck, even as her golden hair was brushed aside. As happy as she was that Morgana had discovered a talent for not requiring speaking a spell aloud in order to wield it, it was proving to be rather distracting. She had an idea that the increased voracity with which Morgana was endeavouring to garner her attentions at the present moment had to with the intended recipient of the letter she was working on. Unwilling to let her younger sister win, she muttered her own charm to bind her hair in a plait, removing it from temptation.
There was an indignant gasp from over near the fire, promptly followed by the feel of her hair once again cascading over her shoulders.
“My patience can only be pushed so far,” she cautioned. “There is a point at which I break.”
“And I greatly enjoy pushing you over that point,” Morgana countered, abandoning watching Morgause work in favour of flopping onto her back and watching the firelight dace on the wooden beams that spanned the stone walls.
“Greater sorcerers than you have paid for that kind of insolence with their lives.” Morgause’s ire was beginning to flare, her quill scratching sharply as she applied excessive pressure in her irritation.
“Though none can boast what I can, none have what hold over you I possess,” Morgana said slowly, picturing her blonde companion in her mind’s eye and running a hand down her spine. A sharp intake of breath told her that Morgause had felt it.
“That is true,” Morgause conceded, “though even you have you limits.”
For a while at least this seemed to quell Morgana. She was well aware that her sister did not have boundless tolerance and that if she pushed her too far, she would pay for it. However, what she was also well aware of was that no matter what she did, Morgause would never really hurt her. It was something she took great pride in, her ability to tame the Sorceress’ mighty tempest. No one else would ever even come close.
“Surely he cannot require such placation, that you are still writing? How many pages is it now?” Morgana said eventually, growing increasingly impatient. She refused to say the wretched king’s name, even the replacement ‘he’ left a bitter taste on her tongue.
“Now, now, Morgana, we must be understanding of other’s weaker dispositions. Not everyone can have a will of iron.” She looked up at Morgana for the first time, a sly smile playing on her lips. “King Cenred requires certain... encouragements to perform.”
Morgana’s face twisted in distaste. “And men think that we are the weaker sex.”
“No, they just wish that we were,” Morgause said, scratching her name at the bottom of the parchment and reclining in her chair. “If they all believe it, they think it will become true.”
“A deluded kind, aren’t they?” Morgana said, playing with a lock of her hair. At first she had struggled without Gwen to see to her, but Morgause could get her from bedclothes to the best she had ever looked with the flick of a wrist, and that had been the end of that worry.
“Delusion is a valuable thing. Do not forget that we ourselves rely on it.” Throwing the quill down, she stood up, pushing the chair back with a satisfying squeak. “Within these walls we may be free... but without them there are a number of illusions that others must believe.”
“Illusions,” Morgana repeated, trying out the word and finding it wanting. “A pretty word for empty promises.”
“Surely you do not feel sorry for our dear friend Cenred?” Morgause teased, slowly walking towards Morgana.
At that, Morgana scoffed. “Not him. I just... I feel bad for someone I left behind, someone I know I must deceive when I return.”
Morgause laughed lightly. “Need I be jealous? I have heard that the Knights of Camelot are an impressive band.”
“If you could believe that of me, then you know nothing of me at all,” Morgana said, her eyes distant, still looking skywards. “The person of whom I speak is infinitely fairer.”
“And does she pose a problem to our plans? Is she distraction enough that you would turn from me, from our plans?” Morgause already knew the answer, though that did not prevent a sting of jealousy. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to.
“No,” Morgana said thoughtfully, “but she may give me reason to pause, when I return. You must allow me that at very least. I do have a heart.” She said it not in a way that suggested that Morgause did not have a heart, for she did, but to remind her sister that there were others that had been dear to her.
“Of course,” Morgause agreed. “Maybe she could be useful?” It was less of a question and more of a thought she had spoken aloud in order to gage Morgana’s reaction. Long before she had come to Camelot, Morgause had been watching Morgana, she knew of whom she spoke and that she might be enough to pose a problem.
Blinking up at the ceiling, Morgana said, “I do not wish to talk of her any more. Not now. She was the closest thing I had to family before you.”
Frowning slightly, Morgause said, “As you wish.” At the edge of the fur rug, she halted her approach and bent down to unlace her boots. Morgana was very particular about that sort of thing; no boots on the fur; no sharpening or cleaning of weaponry in the bedroom or evening room; most of all, absolutely no dead things in the house unless they were in the kitchen or on a plate. It was a good job that Morgause was fond of her. Kicking the boots aside, she wiggled her freed toes and stepped onto the warm fur, luxuriating in the feel of it. “Now,” she said, dropping to her knees, “I believe you wanted my attentions.”
When Morgana turned to her with an impish smile, she was met with an equally playful smile and twinkling eyes. “I believe that I did.” She raised herself on her elbows, tossing her dark hair in shimmering waves.
“I always... endeavour... to provide you with what you... desire,” Morgause said, painfully slowly, emphasising each and every word. As she said it, she leant forward, placing a hand for balance either side of Morgana.
“What I desire, is your undivided attention for one whole day,” Morgana requested, her breathing quickening and her confidence dipping as Morgause trapped her where she lay. “No talk of Uther, Camelot or Cenred.”
A rich laugh bubbled from Morgause’s throat. “An entire day?”
Gathering her resolve, Morgana answered, “From dusk till dusk.” Her eyes flicked between the blonde’s dark eyes and her moistened lips as anticipation drove her breath quicker and quicker with every closing inch.
Hovering inches from consummating the kiss, Morgause flicked her gaze out of the high arched window to the bright disk of the moon and back down to sea green eyes. “How about from when the moon is highest in the sky until it climaxes once again?” Receiving her answering nod, she sealed the kiss.
“I love you,” Morgana gasped between kisses, prone as she was to sentimentality is such situations. Excitement coiled low in her stomach, mounting higher and higher as she felt the length of Morgause’s body weighing down on her.
Morgause pulled back and smiled in satisfaction.
“Say it,” Morgana pleaded, not caring how weak Morgause would think her for it.
“I,” Morgause began, kissing Morgana’s top lip, “love,” she moved to her lower lip, sucking on it gently, “You.”
Eyes gleaming in obvious delight, Morgana trailed her hand up the back of Morgause’s neck bringing them together again.