At My Most Beautiful (5/?) (Morgana/Morgause)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Morgana knew that her chances of persuading Uther were low. They rested largely on what she was willing to do. Visiting her aunt would take a month at least. The journey to Mermering was, at its shortest, a week long. Then there would be stay of around two weeks, as was polite, before a further week long journey home. That was an entire moon cycle during which Camelot would be without its Queen and Uther would be without... She wasn’t naive enough to think he would go without, he was bedding several of the maids a few more ladies of the court. There would be a month’s gap in tryng for an heir though, and that was what he would find unacceptable.
“My Lord,” Morgana dipped her head in a bow. She had gone to his chambers, which meant that he knew she wanted something. There wasn’t any other reason she would appear at his door unbidden.
“What is it?” Straight to business.
“Do you remember my aunt in Mermering?” She asked, holding her chin high and confident.
“Your father’s sister,” Uther nodded. Morgana had always gotten the impression that Uther had been a lot fonder of her father than he was of her. They had been close friends, something Uther was short of.
“She was unwell when we wed. I promised I would visit her but more than a year has already passed,” Morgana paused. She had promised her aunt that she would visit once she had bore the child she had been expected to be carrying from her wedding night or soon thereafter. She had been expecting to fall pregnant straight away but she hadn’t. There was, of course, plenty of chance that she would be with child soon, but as more and more time passed, living a life beyond that became her striving desire. Especially, now Morgause had entered her life. “She is not a young woman, nor is she in good health. I fear that if I do not visit her soon, it will be her grave that I am visiting.”
Uther considered this. “How long would you be away?”
“A month.”
He scoffed. “It’s out of the question. Once I have a son, you can take your trip.”
“Please,” Morgana begged softly, reaching for his hand. “I am weary, I need a rest. Maybe then, when I return, you will have your son.” Still, Uther looked unconvinced. “I promise to put everything into giving him to you.”
Again, Uther considered. “A month is a long time to waste Morgana. I, like your aunt, am not as young as I used to be. You know that the kingdom faces war. Without an heir, there would be chaos if anything were to happen to me.”
“I understand that,” Morgana nodded, taking a step into him. “But with the inter-kingdom tournament still not for a few months, we have a reprieve until then, do we not?”
Uther sighed and nodded. “That is my hope.”
“Then give me this,” Morgana pleaded, “and I will give you anything you ask for.”
Uther’s eyes shone as he nodded. Morgana was in no doubt over the deal she had brokered.
When she returned to her chambers later that evening, Gwen was waiting for her, gazing unseeing out of the window, playing nervously with the dainty gold chain around her neck. The chain, which held a small cross, was a gift from Morgana. She had presented it to her on the morning Gwen had turned twenty, four years earlier. Gwen had blushed profusely when she unwrapped it from the off-cut of silk it was enclosed in and persuaded a dejected Morgana that it was far too precious for her to wear. This was the first time Morgana had seen her wearing it, something which flooded her stomach with even more warm happiness than was already there.
For a moment, Morgana didn’t make a sound, just watched Gwen’s worried fidgeting and smiled.
There was a steaming bath in front of the fire and her favourite meal on the table. Every need she could possibly have was filled by Gwen before Morgana feel what needing was.
Reluctantly, she shut the door with a click that rang out loudly in the silence, breaking the calm spell the room was swathed in.
Gwen jumped at the noise and turned quickly to fix Morgana with a wide eyed stare, her chain clutched in a hand at her throat. “What did he say?”
“He approved it,” Morgana said smiling brightly. “He said yes. Morgause and I leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Oh Morgana.” Gwen moved quickly towards her and hugged her. It surprised Morgana still, how much she had missed this closeness with her maid, how much her touch still calmed her, like it had soothed her nightmares from childhood. “That’s wonderful.”
“It is,” Morgana whispered, smiling still. She caught Gwen’s eye and made her smile too.
“There is some rose oil in your bath,” Gwen said, taking Morgana’s hand and leading her to the fire. “You will want to be at your best for tomorrow.”
Morgana bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. “What if he had said no?”
“Then you would need to be consoled and there is nothing I know that works better for that than a pleasantly scented bath and a full stomach,” Gwen said knowingly.
Morgan chuckled and wrapped her arms around Gwen’s neck in a hug. “You know me so well.”
“Well enough,” Gwen smiled sweetly.
Within minutes, Morgana was submerged in water hot enough to cleanse away any traces of Uther left on her body, dreaming of her month alone with Morgause as the comforting sound of Gwen moving around the room caressed her ears.
Before dawn the next morning, Morgana and Morgause rode out from Camelot with the wind at their backs and the rising sun ahead of them. The absolute smallest amount of luggage that Morgana could be persuaded to bring was strapped onto a packhorse which trailed behind them on a tether. The extra animal meant that their progress would be slower than if it were just the two of them, but it lengthened their time on the road and Morgan couldn’t feel sorry for that. Her stomach was churning and tingling in anticipation of something she didn’t dare try to work out. She knew that there was something coming, that made her breath quicken, something good.
“I cannot believe that the King consented to you having only me for protection,” Morgause wondered aloud a few hours into the ride. She didn’t say ‘seeing as you are the Queen’ because she knew that trees eagerly hid prying ears, especially in spring when they were thick with leaves.
“He intends to tell people that I am ill,” Morgana said, shifting a little in her saddle in discomfort. Her back ached already but that didn’t dampen her hopeful mood. “You aren’t complaining are you?”
Something akin to mischief fluttered across Morgause’s face in a smile. “Definitely not. Are you?”
“No,” Morgana said a little too eagerly, blushing when Morgause raised an eyebrow at her. “Though, I will miss Gwen. I’ve never been parted from her for so long.”
“She is lucky to have a mistress who cares for her so much,” Morgause said kindly. She liked Gwen. The girl was clever, kind and, above all, fiercely loyal to Morgana. A knock on Morgause’s door late the night before had been a concerned Gwen, come to warn Morgause of Morgana’s nightmares. She had spent considerable time detailing how to soothe Morgana. Whisper softly, she had advised, and stroke her forehead. If that fails, she had continued, hold her gently and hum the lullaby her father used to sing to her. Morgause had then been taught the lilting tune by the dying light of the fire and had been made to repeat it over and over until Gwen was sure that she had gotten it perfect.
“I’m the lucky one,” Morgana said, smiling wistfully. Being without Gwen was starting to worry her.
“She made me promise to take good care of you and I will not break my word,” Morgause assured her. They were riding close enough to each other that they would be able to talk in whispers and still hear one another.
“I don’t doubt that,” Morgana smiled, charmed by Morgause’s quiet resolve and well hidden heart.
The first night, they slept either side of a glowing fire. Morgana slept soundly, wrapped in furs, and Morgause slept lightly, her hand on the hilt of her sword. In the Morning, Morgana was shy and held onto the mists of sleep far longer than Morgause did. She sat in front of the dying embers, cradling a cup of warm milk and watching in small wonderment as Morgause quickly packed up the camp around her. That day, they rode mostly in comfortable silence, commenting every so often on how beautiful the scenery got the further behind them Camelot fell. When the sun was highest in the sky, Morgause made them a small lunch of bread and cheese, which they ate by the side of the path on a fallen tree. By the time night began to creep up on them from the east, Morgana’s eyes were heavy and sleep tugged at her limbs.
Again, they camped. Morgause found a clear, flat piece of ground and started a fire to give them light and warmth, before heading off into the trees to find them dinner.
“Don’t stray from the light of the fire,” she warned Morgana, handing her her sword. “If anyone comes, call for me, I won’t be far.”
Morgana could only nod, nervous, and watch as Morgause took her bow and arrows from her horse and set off soundlessly into the forest. The knight turned huntress returned quickly with a rabbit to find that Morgana had finished setting up the camp and had collected enough wood from the edges of the clearing to get the fire hot enough to cook the meat.
“How did you know I would catch something?” Morgause asked from the darkness. She was butchering her catch outside of the camp, away from Morgana’s eyes.
“I knew that you would,” Morgana said with a faith that made Morgause smile warmly, glad that she was hidden by the dark.
“I can’t promise that I will be successful every night,” Morgause warned. From her position on the periphery, she could see Morgana drop her head, catching the light, and smiling.
“You will.”
Hours later, when the moon was past its peak in the sky, the sound of Morgana tossing and turning woke Morgause from her slumber.
“Morgana,” she whispered, squinting at the flickering vision of Morgana through the flames.
There was no reply, only a troubled moan.
“Whisper softly,” she heard Gwen whisper in her ear, “and stroke her forehead.”
Careful not to make a sound, Morgause got into a crouch and surveyed the edge of the light created by the fire. Confident that they were alone, she picked her way around the fire and settled on the dry ground beside Morgana.
“Shhh,” she soothed, tentatively brushing the back of her fingers over Morgana’s damp forehead. “Hush, Morgana. You are safe, I’m here. I won’t leave you, I promise.” The hilt of her sword jutted painfully into her ribs, but Morgause paid in no notice. Her heart was beating wildly, like she was in battle or on a hunt.
Morgana shifted fitfully, her eyes screwing tight and her lips trembling.
“Hush,” Morgause, whispered. “Morgana, it’s me, wake up beautiful.” The term of endearment fell naturally and unnoticed from her lips.
Though Morgana was obviously in some dream distress, she was at her most beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of her fire and her furs had dropped to reveal her milk-white neck curving elegantly to her breast. Her trembling lips were deep red, flushed and plumped with blood as they worried against each other, catching on her teeth when she took a deep, shuddering breath. The firelight made her skin glow and seem all the more pale for it, every inch pure and unblemished. She was a vision.
With a start, she awoke.
“It’s me,” Morgause whispered again, cupping her cheek and holding her frightened gaze. “I’m here, you’re safe.”
Morgana’s breaths came quick and arrhythmic, heaving her chest against Morgause’s arm. “I - I - I was dreaming?” she asked, as if she didn’t quite believe it
Morgause nodded, her eyes pinched in concern. “It was just a dream. Do you remember where you are?”
After a moment, Morgana nodded. “We are half a day’s ride away from Carnna, on the road to Mermering.”
Smiling, Morgause nodded and kissed her forehead. “Clever girl. I doubt I would remember that after being awoken from a nightmare in the middle of the night.”
Morgana dipped her head and blushed. Morgause’s hand was still at her cheek, so she covered it with her own and turned to kiss her palm. She felt as though, when she turned back to Morgause, all that existed in the world was the two of them in that tiny bubble of firelight, a breath apart at the lips.
Slowly, Morgause slipped her hand down to cradle Morgana’s jaw. “You must be an angel,” she murmured, “to make me feel like this.”
“Like what?” Morgana asked timidly. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to kiss Morgause, to give her everything and never look back.
“Like I would give my life to kiss you one sweet time.” Morgause didn’t move, just looked deep into Morgana’s eyes and imagined she could see her own love reflected there.
“Then kiss me,” Morgana bid shakily, “please.”
Morgause’s tongue flickered out to moisten her dry lips, before leaning down to press against Morgana lips, soft and fleeting. As she moved away, her head dizzy with the rush of it, Morgana’s hand tangled in her hair and pulled her back for another childlike press of a kiss. Morgana’s little finger at the tender spot behind her ear encouraged her to deepen it, sliding her lips wetly over Morgana’s, who whimpered in response. After a breath, Morgause kissed her again, this time opening her mouth enough to touch her tongue to Morgana’s lip, asking, pleading. Morgana opened to her immediately, inviting her inside with a delicious gasp that made Morgause’s stomach flutter and her blood rush. She found Morgana’s tongue and gently caressed it, tasting her like some rare exotic fruit. This, she was sure, was paradise.
“I’ve prayed all my life for a kiss as sweet as this,” Morgana whispered against her lips, salty tears running down her cheek and into their mouths.
“I rarely pray,” Morgause breathed, “but when I do, it is for you.”
They stayed like that, kissing languidly until the sun flickered in the east and stole the darkness that cradled them, ending their perfect moment, as innocent then as the first touch.
affordable web hosting