Silk and Duty (1/2)
Title: Silk and Duty (1/2)
Fandom: Merlin (Modern royal!AU)
Rating: PG-13
Characters & Pairings: Gwen/Morgana
Word Count: 4,265
Summary: When an impossible love cannot be denied, a princess must choose between her duty to her country and her duty to her own heart.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. This is not for profit, just for entertainment!
The princess gasped - the silk cold on her bare skin. Shivers erupted from the places that the elegant black dress touched as it fell over her body, slipping down until it caught and, now still, warmed. Gentle hands smoothed it down until it sat perfectly on the curves of her hips and waist, picking out her silhouette in a way that only a dress made for one's own body can. She sighed contentedly and rolled her shoulders, getting comfortable in her second skin.
"Hold still, Ma'am," her maid bid, breath warm and tickling on the back of the princess' neck.
A smile tugged on her lips. "Even if you put 'Ma'am' on the end of order, you still may not speak it to a princess."
"Not an order, then, a request," her maid amended. "Please, don't move. I need to pin the strands of hair that fell loose when the dress tugged at them."
"No 'Ma'am' this time?" The princess stayed as still as a painting.
"No, Ma'am," the maid said humorously. Her hands at the back of the princess' neck were sending shivers down the royal's spine; she could feel the little contractions of muscles she was eliciting if she laid her palm between the porcelain shoulder blades. When the last of the rebellious black locks was pinned, she bowed her head to kiss the place where the pale back met the paler neck reverently. It was still a marvel, after over a year, that she was permitted to do it. More than permitted to, she was encouraged to.
The princess closed her eyes and sent back a hand to tangle in her maid's hair. She had never known a love as perfect and as intense as the love she felt for her servant. It played on her mind almost constantly and tore her honour to shreds. Yet she would give up anything and everything for it. "Do you love me?"
"As much as you say that you love me."
The princess chuckled at the answer. "Boundlessly, then?"
Smiling against the princess' skin, the maid whispered. "Of course."
...
14th October
For autumn, it was unseasonably warm. The air was thin and the breeze tame. There were still butterflies fluttering low and summer swallows dancing on the air currents. Buzzing radio voices in the front of the car told her that it was the warmest autumn on record - again. She supposed it was important. Even the soldiers were talking about climate change, though she suspected that was because of the newfound heat they found themselves in and the horror that it might get hotter. But her mind flitted back and forth like a leaf caught in the breeze, never settling on one topic for too long, so she didn't dwell on it. They said it was a mild form of post-traumatic stress. Psychologists were very fond of labels. She already had enough of those to deal with. Her HRH already lay heavy enough on her shoulders.
"There are street parties across the United Kingdom celebrating your return, Ma'am. And not government initiated like the ones for His Highness' 21st last June."
She smiled. "Is my brother very upset by it?"
Her driver chuckled. "Sir isn't best pleased."
Her smile widened. Sibling rivalry was her and her brother's speciality.
Out the window, a running stag caught her eye. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Months of nothing but blood and sand had altered her perception, she decided. She had seen a hundred stags before and this one looked no different, but she found herself wondering if soldiers from the world wars looking upon the white cliffs of Dover as their first site of home had the same altered perception. She had seen them once as a child, the cliffs. They weren't even that white. Now, she was sure they would seem white as snow, as brilliant as the grass seemed pure emerald green and the sky spotless royal blue. A bar of Jerusalem drifted through her mind and was gone. It was good to be home - even if she did feel like a hail of bullets would fall at any moment.
Her vision blurred with unbidden memories of the last time her base had come under attack and when it sharpened again, the crackle of gravel hummed under the radio and the perfect pale stone of Balmoral Castle greeted her eyes.
"Home at last," she murmured. "One of them anyway."
Silence roared when the engine thrummed off and the radio went dead. The only sound in existence was the crunch of the footman's steps and the echoing click of the door opening.
She stepped out of the car, feeling untidy in her travelling clothes. They weren't military issue. She had ditched those at the airport and found a pair of black trousers and a crisp white shirt that she had rolled up to the elbows in her suitcase. High heels had felt strange after so long but she wore them anyway, glad of the extra couple of inches they gave her. Flats had made her one of the shortest on the base, even amongst the twenty or so women.
"Welcome home, Your Highness," the head of the household, a homely if slightly scary woman - all tight hair buns starched black and white uniform - known as Mrs McGregor despite being unmarried, said.
She smiled brightly. "It's good to be here, finally." The only people out to greet her were the staff. Her smile faltered. "Where are my parents?"
"His Royal Majesty was delayed in London, Ma'am. They will be here tomorrow. Her Royal Highness, your mother, sends her apologies," Mrs McGregor said, stepping with her inside. She was
"My brother tells me that my Amy has left us for a chance to study at St. Andrews." She stopped before the staircase that would carry her up to her room. The same footman who had opened her car door was carrying her two cases at their heels.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"She told me she was applying but that was the last I heard. I wrote twice but I was always so busy. I suppose eight months is a long time where these things are concerned."
"Yes, Ma'am. Though, she started only two weeks ago. She wishes she could have waited to see you return, but they were very strict about start dates. You have a new maid assigned to you. She will travel with you back to London with your family. Amy and I have seen that she is up to the job."
Smiling and nodding her thanks, she climbed the staircase, her feet moving faster and faster as she neared her room. She had been dreamed of sleeping in her own bed for so long that, by the time she reached the open door, she was running. The shock of finding that she was not alone brought her to a skidding stop.
"Your Highness," the woman inside her room greeted nervously, curtseying.
Putting a hand to her thundering heart, she grinned stupidly and started to laugh. The sight of a stranger in her room had sent cold fear through her for a moment before she remembered where she was. "Forgive me," she panted. "I must have startled you as much as you startled me." She held out her hand in greeting. "I'm Morgana." That wasn't how she was supposed to greet someone, but she had been Flight Lieutenant London, or just Morgana, for so long that she had almost forgotten that she was a princess.
When the woman's soft, warm hazelnut hand slipped into hers Morgana's heart skipped, and when their eyes met, it stopped completely. They were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen; the colour of melted chocolate and bright like a child's. Her skin flushed and the butterflies in her stomach were sent fluttering.
"Yes, Ma'am. I know who you are," the woman said with a tentative smile. "My name is Guinevere Smith. I have been hired by Mrs McGregor, in your absence, to be your maid."
Guinevere's smile made Morgana's knees go weak. She blushed. The colour was plainly visible on her snow white cheeks and the knowledge of that made her blush even more. She almost wished she still had the sunburn on her cheeks and nose that had plagued her for her first two months of her tour. That would have hidden the blush. "Guinevere sounds like some sort of goddess' name or a fairytale princess," she said stupidly, hoping to come off charming. She wasn't supposed to charm the staff. Not the way she was aiming for anyway. "It's very beautiful." She bit her tongue before she could say, 'just like you'. She felt exactly like she had when she saw the stag, but couldn't break the spell the same way. Then, the spell had been broken by recalling all of the other stags she had seen and realising how similar they were. But she was sure that she had never seen anyone as beautiful as this Guinevere. It seemed she was doomed to stay bewitched.
"My family and friends call me Gwen." It was clear from the way she said it that it was an offer to do the same, an offer she was too afraid to make.
Morgana realised that she was still holding Gwen's hand. She let it slip slowly from hers. "Gwen it is. Sorry about being all..." She trailed off, letting Gwen fill in the gap. "I haven't exactly had much practice in proper conversation lately." Let alone conversation with beautiful strangers, she thought.
"You're doing just fine, Ma'am." Gwen smiled, and Morgana thought she saw her cheeks darken, just a little.
It seemed that she wasn't the only one who could blush.
...
"Marry me," she murmured.
Gwen gasped like a lady in a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. Morgana turned to face her, moving with an easy grace.
"Marry me," Morgana implored again, her gold earrings catching the light. She stepped forward and tilted Gwen's chin up with her ghost white hand, kissing her gently, lingeringly, beseechingly.
"It's impossible," Gwen whispered the moment that Morgana's lips left hers. There were a so many things forbidden about it that Gwen couldn't even begin to count them.
Morgana dropped her head and said quietly, "Not if I don't want it to be. Not if I-"
"You can't." Gwen interrupted, horrified. "One day you could be queen. You can't give that up for someone like me!"
"Someone like you? You are everything," Morgana protested. It was so like Gwen to put duty above love and that only made Morgana's heart yearn for her more. She was completely different from Morgana in every way, and it made her think that maybe there was something to that 'opposites attract' thing.
"And you are beloved by the people of this country - by the entire world, even. You know what the press says about you. You brought the monarchy into the 21st century and have secured its place in our society for the next hundred years. You are an intelligent, independent woman who graduated from medical school to serve in the Royal Air Force as a doctor. There has never been anyone like you in the royal family before. The monarchy depends on you," Gwen argued, clasping her hands around one of Morgana's. "Who am I to take you away from all of that?"
"I have told you: everything."
...
1st January
If the summers and autumns were getting warmer, then the winters were making up for it. Snow had been falling for the past month, bringing the entire city to a standstill. For the first time since anyone could remember, nobody went to work. For two days, the shops remained shut and the banker's computers lay dormant. The Canadian and Norwegian ambassadors had been insufferable at the New Years Eve dinner earlier that night. Or the night before, it was past midnight. Apparently, London had gotten no more than a light dusting and it was utterly hilarious that 'Grande Britannia' couldn't cope with it. Morgana had never seen so much snow in her life.
"I thought you might be cold, Ma'am." A fine cashmere shall was slipped over her shoulders from behind. She caught it with her hands and pulled it around herself.
"A little," Morgana admitted, smiling in amusement. "Don't tell anyone."
"Never, Ma'am. I keep all of your secrets," Gwen whispered, her breath coming out as puff of steam.
Morgana slid her arm into Gwen's and began to walk towards the tree line. "Have you had a nice night, Gwen?"
"Lovely, Ma'am. And you?" Gwen asked sweetly.
They disappeared into the darkness of the trees. "The Italian ambassador tried to kiss me when Big Ben rang for the New Year but I was quick enough that he only got my cheek, thankfully. Can you believe it?"
Morgana could see the shadow of Gwen's mouth falling open. "How dare he!"
Smiling, Morgana patted her hand. "There's no need to sound quite so scandalised for me, I told his wife and she threw her champagne over him in front of everyone. I wouldn't be surprised if it's in the papers tomorrow. I don't think he'll be trying it again."
Gwen giggled then. She did that a lot. Morgana found it ludicrously cute. Her infatuation hadn't dampened, not one ounce.
"Next year I'm not letting you out of my sight for a minute, even if you're supposed to be downstairs," Morgana continued. "No one will dare corner me with a member of staff near me, the pompous lot. You'll save me from those leaches."
"Gladly," Gwen said, still giggling.
A bang sounded from far above them, loud and crisp in the cold air. Another followed. And another. Morgana startled. She wasn't so scarred from her tour of Afghanistan that she imagined she was back there, but her body rushed with adrenaline all the same. Her muscles tensed and her heart thundered in the blackness. The only thing she could feel was the ice of the night and the almost fiery heat of Gwen's arm in hers, keeping her from slipping entirely into the cold.
"It's just fireworks, Ma'am," Gwen said calmly, moving to stand in front of Morgana without breaking contact with her arm.
Embarrassed at her reaction, Morgana apologised. Her heart still beat so fast that it hurt.
"No need. It made me jump too." Gwen didn't say 'Ma'am' at the end of it and somehow Morgana felt compelled to kiss her for it.
It was clumsy, as first kisses go. There wasn't a scrap of light and there was about a foot of difference in their heights so logistics proved tricky. On the way down, Morgana bumped her nose against Gwen's, before managing only to capture her top lip and pulling away even more embarrassed than the fireworks had left her.
"Sorry, I-"
"If you meant to kiss me, then do it again. If you didn't... If you didn't, then leave this in the darkness," Gwen said so quietly and quickly that even the silence that surrounded them nearly swallowed it.
Still robbed of the image of the woman who made her heart sing, Morgana tried again. Her hand slid up Gwen's arm, ran smoothly up her neck and went to ground in her hair, her beautiful shiny hair. This time, when she leant down, she found Gwen's lips immediately. She brushed against them gently, once, twice, then separated her cold weather-dried lips, moistening them. Gwen opened up to her then, when Morgana's tongue parted her lips, gasping adorably and tightening her grip on Morgana's arm as the kiss deepened. For a moment, Morgana felt like a 1940s soldier kissing her secret sweetheart. They were both in dresses but Morgana imagined that she was in her Air Force uniform, sweeping Gwen off her feet, a brass band playing in the background, Gwen grasping her lapels and the wind whipping wildly around them. The picture was as clear as day in her mind. She might have dreamed about it a few times. More than a few times, actually.
She gasped a breath when they parted for a moment, but Gwen's lips were soon on hers again and this time they were more insistent. There was a soft, warm hand on either side of her neck, smoothing over her cool skin and meeting at the back. She shuddered and Gwen pulled back.
"I can't really believe it's you, not in this pitch black. I wish I could see you," Gwen whispered. She was still close enough that Morgana could feel every word on her damp lips, warm against the cold.
"It's me, I promise," Morgana murmured, her forehead finding Gwen's to lean on. A sudden thought struck her. She took one of Gwen's hands from her neck and tugged on it. "Come on. I know a place."
Gwen came gladly, running after her, giggling. Morgana stopped to silence her with a kiss, pressing her back against a tree and making her promise to be quiet, lest they be caught. Once they broke free of the trees, they had sneak across the lawn, darting from shadow to shadow like children playing a game - or, Morgana thought, soldiers evading an enemy, but she had never done that, it wasn't in her job description. They rounded the side of the palace, running across gravel and taking a sharp turn into the private gardens that no one ever got to see. They had to stop for Morgana to pluck a key from under a stone and unlock the gate, but once they were inside, they were running again. Down grassy corridors and paved lanes they dashed by the light of the moon, finally coming upon an ornate gazebo that made Gwen think of The Sound of Music.
Morgana dropped her hand and said, "Wait here," before disappearing into the dark interior of the gazebo, complaining quietly as she fumbled with something unseen.
Suddenly, there was light.
Fairy lights wove around the fine wrought metal of the gazebo, dipping and turning and twisting skywards to meet the moon like a dream. In the centre, Morgana stood, pale and dark and resplendent in the night. She looked like a goddess - no, a princess. Perhaps, a queen.
"Now you can see me," Morgana said simply.
Walking slowly forward, Gwen met her under their twinkling bower and let Morgana take her in her arms and kiss her. It was soft and beautiful and a little bit like a fairytale.
"You are so beautiful," Morgana breathed, hovering her hand next to Gwen's cheek as if she was too afraid to touch her. For the first time that anyone had told her that she was beautiful, Gwen believed it. "From the moment I saw you I - God, you're beautiful."
...
"Morgana, you don't mean that you-"
"If things were different, if I wasn't a princess, would you say yes? If there were no consequences, if it would be easy, would you want to marry me?" Morgana asked desperately, holding Gwen's face in her hands.
"Of course," Gwen said. No sooner than she had uttered it, Morgana was kissing her. She let herself fall into the kiss, loosing herself completely in the taste, feel and smell of Morgana, letting it wrap around her and caress her like Morgana's careful hands. For a second, she forgot how impossible it was and imagined being Morgana's wife. She imagined waking up in her arms every morning and falling asleep naked beside her every night. She imagined herself curled in at Morgana's side at dinner parties, Morgana's arm around her waist as they chatted to important people that she wasn't even allowed to look at now. But then a staff bell rang down the hall and her dreams were shattered. "I would marry you tomorrow, but-"
"Then marry me," Morgana pleaded. "Damn the consequences and marry me."
Hot tears fell down Gwen's cheeks. "We can't!"
"Why not?" Morgana asked stubbornly.
"For starters, they'll never you marry a member of your staff and keep your title or your right to the throne," Gwen began. "There are laws as to who you can marry, Morgana."
Morgana snorted. "Bugger the law. I'm a princess. What use is that without power over the law?"
"And there are those in your world who would protest at you marrying someone who... who isn't of European descent." She tried to put it delicately but Morgana exploded all the same.
"That's ridiculous!" Morgana cried. "The country will never allow them to get away with that. That's just..." Her cheeks flared red. She was incensed.
"Even if none of that mattered, they will never let you marry a woman," Gwen said quietly, her eyes downcast.
...
2nd January
The knock at her door was unmistakably Gwen's - soft, polite and familiar.
Morgana's heart was just short of tachycardic. It was before seven thirty am and she was already dressed in casual but stylish black dress pants and an ivory silk blouse that slid coolly over her skin as she paced before the window. The sun was just starting to rise, giving the gardens of Buckingham Palace on eerie other worldly look, casting strange shadows over usually familiar and comforting places. If she were to stop long enough to peer along the side of the palace, she would catch a glimpse of the frost-covered gazebo in the private garden where her soul had soared two nights before with most gut-twistingly adorable woman in her arms. It had been like a fairytale (if she forgot about the Italian ambassador and the botched first kiss), ending only when Gwen had pulled shyly away, biting her lip so endearingly that Morgana had almost whimpered, and bid her goodnight.
"Come in," she called, fiddling fretfully with the cuffs of her blouse, buttoning and unbuttoning them.
The door opened slower than she would have believed, gradually revealing Gwen, who looked as nervous as she did and was biting her lip again. This time Morgana did whimper. Just a little.
"Your Highness," Gwen greeted, her body echoing a courtesy. Her professional veneer cracked with her trademark unsure smile. "Morgana."
"Morgana," Morgana agreed. "I think after the other night that 'Your Highness' sounds a little formal." Gwen's uncertainty giving her own confidence a boost, Morgana cracked a charming smile. "Unless that's what floats your boat."
Gwen's cheeks darkened, a dusky pink showing through. "Morgana will be fine."
"Good," Morgana began, walking forward slowly and surely to meet Gwen by the doorway, shutting them inside with the press on her flat palm on the door above Gwen's right shoulder, "because I don't think it would appropriate to do this..." She leant in to kiss her maid, brief and sweet, touching her nowhere but where their lips met. "... if you were still calling me 'Your Highness'." When Morgana opened her eyes, Gwen's were still closed, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks colouring a darker shade of red. It made Morgana's heart quicken. "I wouldn't want to take advantage..."
Gwen's eyes flew open. "You aren't!"
Morgana smiled her most charming smile. "Good to know, because I don't intend to stop doing it any time soon."
Gwen looked so small when she smiled the way she did then, beautifully and openly, her back against the closed door, trapped between it and Morgana. "I thought maybe it was just..." She trailed off, shrugging. When she found the sentiment she was searching for she smiled shyly again. "You're a princess."
"So people keep telling me," Morgana said, still smiling. "Though no one has come to lock me away in a tower yet or slip me a poisoned apple, so maybe everyone has gotten it wrong. I'll let you know if I spy any glass slippers."
When Gwen laughed, she glowed, her whole body lighting up as her mood soared up to meet the rising sun. "You could pass for Snow White."
Morgana took her hand from the door and slid it around Gwen's waist. "I prefer playing Prince Charming."
"Well you certainly are charming," Gwen said before she could stop herself, covering her mouth with her hand as soon as she said it to stop anything even more embarrassing following it.
Morgana laughed then, moving away Gwen's hand and leaning down to kiss her, tipping back Gwen's chin with her hand and breathing her in.
...
"Don't you think I already know that?" Morgana looked away, her voice breaking.
Gwen's hand was warm on her shoulder. "Morgana..."
"Arthur will make a good king. That's what I've always told myself. When I was younger, and I guess a little naive, I thought that by the time I grew up things would be different. And it's true. Things have changed. They just haven't changed fast enough for me. I won't sentence myself to a life alone or with someone I could never love just to wear a crown."
Gwen couldn't argue with that. The thought of Morgana living her life unhappily made her stomach churn.
"I didn't choose to be who I am - a princess. The way I've lived my whole life has been dictated by which family I was born into. I bend over backwards for this monarchy. I won't - I can't give you up as I have given up so much for them before," Morgana said desperately. "It isn't fair!"
"And how is making me the one to decide your fate fair on me?" Gwen bit back.
And all at once, Morgana felt incredibly foolish.
Part 2 coming soon.