At My Most Beautiful (13/?) - (Morgana/Morgause)
Title: At My Most Beautiful (13/?)
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~4,000 for this part
Series Summary:In a world where things were ever so slightly different, Camelot had a young and beautiful Queen. A beautiful Queen, who was married to a cold and aging King. AU
Chapter Summary: Morgana and Morgause make the most of their last day in Mermering.
Disclaimer:I don't own Merlin, this is purely for entertainment purposes.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 |
A light autumn breeze stirred the gentle ripples of Morgana's midnight hair to dance over her shoulders, catching beams of moonlight and shining like the black sea below. Sheer dark blue wings fluttered from her moon white arms, draping down to her waist where a belt of silver rings sculpted them into a long flowing skirt that trailed on the white stone floor of the balcony. From her temples ran twin slender plaits, joining at the back to form a single waterfall of unbraided black hair that twisted and curled, soft as summer silk. Wound through the plaits were slim chords of silver hanging with tiny lapis lazuli, forming her crown.
Morgause's breath had been stolen at the sight of her Queen cloaked in the night sky. She was so beautiful, that Morgause was afraid to touch her, afraid that if she did, she would turn out to be a dream. If the reactions of the guests at the feast were anything to go by, they felt the same way. Morgana glided through the evening with all the grace of a great and beloved Queen, accepting leaving gifts, making conversation with high and low born guests alike, toasting to Mermering's future and that of all of the Kingdom of Camelot, and thanking each and every citizen of the small port town for their hospitality and their loyalty to the crown and to the Le Fay family. Two weeks earlier, she had walked into a town where nobody knew her. Now, she would leave one in which every man, woman and child loved her - though none as much Morgause Wilde.
"You were exquisite tonight," Morgause murmured softly, wrapping her arms around Morgana from behind and gazing out to the sea. She was wearing the only gown she had brought with her, the deep purple that she had worn the night she came second in the tournament. It was nowhere near as fine as Morgana's, but it made Morgana's gaze linger all the same.
Morgana leant back into her embrace, her eyelashes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the feel of Morgause pressed against her, her curves unhidden by armour or mail. "There was a fair few eyes on you too, my love," she smiled, sending back a hand to tangle in Morgause's golden curls. "You will leave your share of admirers behind."
Morgause chuckled. "Not near as many as you."
"Nonsense," Morgana insisted, "I think that some of the townsfolk have had their heads quite turned by my dashing golden knight." She giggled and turned around in Morgause's arms. "I have a gift for you."
"Get one you didn't like?" Morgause teased.
"No. But I did get delivery of something I commissioned." Morgana produced a satin pouch from somewhere in the folds of her gown. She took one of Morgause's hands from her waist and closed it around the pouch. "You said once that for me you would sleep in Le Fay green, that away from prying eyes you were swathed in my colours. I've gone one better than a night shirt."
Releasing Morgana, Morgause tugged open the drawstring and upended the contents of the pouch onto her palm, a mass of silver and green.
Morgana plucked it from her hand and held it up so that Morgause could see the emerald pendant encased in a fine silver cage, dangling from a long, long silver chain. She asked timidly, "Wear this for me? Above your heart?"
Her heart thundering in her chest, Morgause nodded slowly, smiling almost shyly at being gifted something from Morgana. "Always."
Relief washing over her face like morning sun, Morgana draped it around her champion's neck, dropping the pendent under her dress, letting the heavy stone fall between her breasts and rest coolly above her heart. "With this, even when we're back at Camelot - surrounded by people who can never know - I will always be with you. I will always have my hand right here above your heart," she whispered, pressing her hand to Morgause's chest.
Blinking away tears, Morgause covered Morgana's hand with her own. "Your name is already written all over my heart. I don't any pendent to remind me of you, but I will wear it with pride."
"And now, under all of that Pendragon red, I know that you are my knight, mine, in my colours," Morgana proclaimed, her voice as hauntingly strong as it had been on the pebble beach.
"Yours," Morgause promised fiercely. This time, she didn't kneel, but stood strong beside her - her equal, her champion and her heart.
"Then in return," Morgana began, stepping back to rest against the balustrade, "I will wear your gold. Wilde purple would be too noticeable." Insecurity flickered in her eyes and went out. She took Morgause's hand and drew it to her belt.
"Someone could see you - see us," Morgause breathed, her head getting the better of the impulses thrumming though her body. "No soul should look upon the Queen of Camelot unrobed but-"
"Her King?" Morgana questioned, holding Morgause's hand in place.
Morgause looked away.
"The outer wall runs wide around the Keep, setting a hundred strides between it and us. No townsmen can see us and no guard below us would dare look up. Yours are the only eyes on me, my love. And yours are the only eyes I want on me. Do not fear on that account." She lifted her hand from Morgause's. "I may not wear your Wilde colours, but I wear something better than that - gold. Your gold, where none can see it..."
"No one except me," Morgause finished, keeping her eyes trained to Morgana's as she slid the silver overhang back through the loop and let the belt slip from her fingers. As the warm metal fell to the floor the material of Morgana's dress parted, the sheer silk unwrapping, taking with it the black wrapped underdress, leaving her white and bare in the moonlight. Except, that is, for the gold that dripped over her shoulders, running over her collar bone and down to rest over her beasts like the trails of a weeping willow.
"No one but you," Morgana confirmed, catching Morgause's fingers again and bringing them to her gold.
As Morgause's fingers closed over the precious metal, they met in an all consuming kiss.
And the wind, again, sang for them.
-
Limbs languid and honey heavy, the Queen lay in her Champion's arms, her raven head pillowed on Morgause's chest, her fingers curling around the side of her ribcage as it expanded and contracted beneath them. She was breathing fast and heavy from their passion, her heart thrumming to the beat of a thousand warhorses thundering into battle in her chest. It had been her who backed Morgause into the bed, tumbled down on top of her and kissed her breathless. Morgause had lain beneath her, smiling up, awestruck, as Morgana conquered her like the Queen she was, her eyes a arduous verdant green. It struck Morgause then, as she lost the air from her lungs that Morgana was no longer the meek and fearful Queen that she had accompanied to Mermering.
In two short weeks Morgana had transformed. Insecurities and low self-worth still prickled over her skin, but they were mostly overwhelmed by increasingly powerful flashes of might and regality. Morgause could feel her growing fiercer with each passing day - feel it in her touch, her kiss, her mien. All of this without loss of a single ounce of her tenderness and her grace. Her vulnerability was still there, only now she had learnt how to conceal it from those she shouldn't trust.
"This is where I belong," Morgana whispered, her voice full of newly found conviction. The dawn of their final day in Mermering was filtering through the wispy white drapes at the entrance to the balcony. It filled the room with amber and rosé that reminded Morgana of the flush a kiss brought to Morgause's cheeks and the blush that a gentle touch could elicit at her clavicle.
"One day Mermering will be yours." Morgause trailed one hand lazily through Morgana's silken hair, savouring the feel of it slipping easily between her fingers. "Of course you belong here."
"I did not mean Mermering," Morgana murmured, her voice softening like melting butter, "I meant with you. I belong here, in your arms." She turned her head and pressed a chaste kiss to the smooth skin of Morgause's breast.
"I am inclined to agree," Morgause said dreamily. "And whatever happens, know that I swore my sword to my Queen and my heart to my beautiful Morgana. Nothing will keep us apart. I will make certain of it. I have vowed to it."
"I know." The pitch of Morgana's voice gave away her uncertainty, her trepidation over what awaited them. She tightened her grip on Morgause. "Tell me something."
"Like what?" Morgause asked, laughing lightly.
"Anything. How about the gods your family worshipped? I don't know anything about them. All mention of them is banned within the walls of the castle."
"There are many," Morgause began. "Far more than I could name, I fear."
"Like the Greeks and the Romans," Morgana guessed.
"Just like them," Morgause agreed, trailing her hand down from Morgana's hair to run up and down the curve of her lower back. "My favourite when I was a child was Andraste, our goddess of war, to whom the hare is sacred. It is said that she was the one who raised my family's village high to defend us and so it is to her that we owe our great debt."
"What did she look like?" Morgana's eyes closed so that she might picture her. The chapels in Camelot were full of icons of every saint and member of the holy family, but she had never seen a single depiction of one of the old gods.
"No one knows. She was evoked before battle to gain favour but she only appeared to those who were mortally wounded. Only the eyes of men about to meet their maker may look upon her. It is their final reward," Morgause said. "But I did picture her when I was young. I imagined her to have skin like yours, pure and white as the first winter snow. Her hair was the colour of autumn red leaves, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, never restrained, always free to flow behind her as she rode unseen through the battlefields of the earth, keeping watch over her people. Her eyes, I always imagined, were grey like steel and just as hard. It is from those wise eyes that our swords get their strength. She sees through them and guides them against our foes. Sometimes, when your doom is upon you, your sword seems to move of its own accord, striking where you did not know an enemy lurked, moving quicker and with more force than it is possible for a sword wielded by any mortal to be. That is her doing."
"She sounds terrifying," Morgana whispered, shivering with the thought of her.
"Not to her people," Morgause smiled, gathering her arms around Morgana. "I whispered her name over and over in my head when Camelot was sacked. I felt her guiding my sword when my courage left me. She saved her people even though they have forsaken her."
"Even though Camelot worships the One God?" Morgana asked, turning to look up at Morgause.
"The old god's time is past and they accept that. They will wait patiently until we turn to them again. Now is the age of great earthly kings and queens, who must reign under their own power. My father taught me never to forget our past, but never to stop looking forward either. If you want something, you have to make it happen for yourself. Relying on a higher power - be that a god of the Old Religion or the One God - will get you nowhere. The Wilde's know that better than anyone. Andraste may have exalted our village, but without the fire in our hearts and the courage in sword arms, we could not win the battle. " She slipped her hand between them to cover the swell at Morgana's stomach. "In you is all the power and courage you need to win a bright future for Camelot through your son."
Morgana smiled and moved Morgause's hand from her abdomen to fold their fingers together. "I found those things in you," she corrected, bringing her lips to Morgause's wrist.
-
The table was spread heavily with the bounty of the sea. A large haddock was the centrepiece, roasted with a crust of salt and nuts, filled with samphire and crabmeat in a cream sauce. Surrounding it were plates of cockles and Muscles cooked in butter and parsley, and bowls of creamy fish soup with cobs of bread and a mousse made of crayfish from the river that ran down from the mountain. The very best of Mermering's fare had been laid out for them, a private farewell feast.
"Are you looking forward to returning home, Morgana?" Eloise asked, a sweet smile on her lips. She was looking stronger than when they first arrived and Morgana dared hope that one day she would see the little prince that Morgana carried. "There must be some home comforts that our little town cannot attend to?"
"There are a few things I have missed," Morgana admitted with a laugh. "I could not persuade Morgause to let me bring more."
"We already had to bring a packhorse," Morgause reminded her. "I hardly think you have been unduly deprived by leaving behind a few gowns. Would you rather we brought a cart and squire to pull it?"
Morgana's laugh bubbled up from her throat. "No, I suppose not. But it isn't really things that I miss. Guinevere, Gwen, my maid. I miss her the most. She has been with me since I my father died and I have never been parted from her for more than a week. And even then it was because she had caught some perilous infection and had been bedbound. I couldn't stand it for any longer than that. I stole away from the castle at night and ran through the streets to her house. Her father, Tom, found us in the morning, me fast asleep sat up against the wall in her bed, her with her head in my lap. The King screamed bloody murder when I caught the sickness too. Gwen stayed with me whilst I was sick, plaiting flowers in hair and fretting when my fever rose." She smiled, her stomach fluttering at the thought of seeing her friend again so soon. "She was a mother, sister and best friend all rolled into one. I couldn't live without her."
"I'm glad that you have such good people around you. You are going to need them when the babe comes," Eloise warned.
"She will have all the help she needs," Morgause promised. "I will make sure of that."
"I trust that you will," Eloise said, reaching for the nearest plate of cockles and muscles. "Did you enjoy your last day? What did you do?"
Morgana nodded and Morgause bit her lip to stop her smile.
"Nothing too exciting, Aunt," Morgana lied. "Just a stroll down the beach."
-
"Are we nearly there?" Morgause asked, reigning up her Dream. There was light autumn rain falling in the mid morning haze, and she was starting to shiver. She left her mail and armour at the tower in favour of a warm woollen tunic and breeches, not anticipating the rain. Her clothes were wet through and starting to chafe, her patience running thin.
"It's just around this outcrop," Morgana promised. For once, they both wore Camelot's colours - Morgause with her Knight's cape fastened with a rampant Pendragon lion and Morgana with her hooded crimson cloak to ward off the foul weather. The cloak was too big for her but it had been her father's, the one he wore for ceremonial purposes, and always seemed to keep her from the cold and rain. When she was younger she used to imagine that being wrapped in it was akin to being wrapped in her father's embrace. But she couldn't quite picture him anymore, and the image refused to form in her mind.
"What is?" Morgause asked, hoping to catch her out. It was to be a surprise. She hated surprises. For Morgana's sake she was playing along.
"Catch me and find out," Morgana challenged impishly before urging her Nightmare from a walk to a canter, splashing up the ankle-high water they were riding through as she went.
"Morgana!" Morgause shouted, getting a face full of salty water. But Morgana only sped up, digging in her heals and disappearing out of sight. "She'll be the death of me," she whispered conspiratorially to her horse, "just you wait and see." Evidently agreeing with her on that, her horse snorted, tossing his head. "Just be glad you're a horse. I'm telling you, women are nothing but trouble." With a soft kick behind her leg, she urged her horse straight into a gallop, the cliffs and sea quickly turning to nought but a blur, taking twice the land under them with every stride than the Queen's mare.
When they rounded the corner, their quarry came into sight, heading inland along the wide sands, making for what appeared to be a waterfall coming off the edge of the cliff above to splash right into the sea. The stone behind it was the same stone that had been quarried to form the White Keep and the water was so clear that it must have come from the stream they bathed in on the mountain. No moss grew where the water splashed, leaving the rock so pristine white that it almost looked unnatural. This was a place that Morgause had no trouble seeing the beauty in. Eager to get a closer look, she quickly devoured the gap between them, catching up with Morgana just as she was dismounting.
"What is this place?" Morgause asked, quickly following Morgana to the ground and leading her horse to the tethering point driven into the rock. Up close, she could see the chisel marks in the cliff, worn and smoothed by time and water. "Is this where the stone for the Keep came from?" she asked, running her hand along the scars in the rock.
"Four hundred years ago," Morgana confirmed, coming up beside her, her face hidden by the cloak. "The first Le Fay's to set foot on this land set about quarrying the rock to build a castle, the biggest most impregnable castle you can imagine. Turrets high as mountains, dungeons to the centre of the earth, white walls as far as the eye could see."
"That's hardly a description of the White Keep," Morgause said evenly.
"Exactly. They were greedy. They wanted too much from a land they barely knew. With only a quarter of the stone that they required quarried, disaster struck. A torrent of pure fresh water crashed over the cliff's edge, storming down on the miners below like Gaia's own fury. The Le Fay who ordered the work, the leader, Bray-"
"Bray?" Morgause interrupted, stifling a snort. "Bray Le Fay?"
Morgana gave her a dangerous look and carried on as if she hadn't heard the interruption. "- was swept away to sea and never seen or heard of again," she finished. "His younger and wiser brother stopped the work immediately and declared that the land had spoken. All that could be taken from it had been taken. He was my ancestor and he built the White Keep. It was him who decreed that we did not need walls big enough to keep out an army. We weren't granted them."
"So he left his settlement with second rate defences?" Morgause said disapprovingly. "Not exactly winning military strategy. It's a good job that the Le Fay's were traders and not fighters. I doubt that they would have lasted long enough for you to come along."
"That really isn't the point," Morgana said sharply, her anger flaring before she realised that Morgause had been joking. "The point is that we became part of the land that day. In learning to live with it and take only what we needed, we formed a bond with it that stays true to this day."
Morgause entwined her fingers with Morgana's. "That's beautiful."
Morgana looked down at their hands and smiled. "Come on, let's go inside."
Frowning, Morgause asked, "Inside where?"
Morgana laughed and tugged on Morgause's hand, setting off for the waterfall. "You'll see."
Mindful that she was already soaked to her skin, Morgause followed her towards the splashing water with trepidation. They picked their way around the small white rocks that lay embedded in the sand, pieces that had fallen from somewhere above or had been deemed too small to build with, and made straight for the gap between the wall of water and the wall of rock, slipping inside the mouth of a hidden cave.
"Gods," Morgause gasped, dropping Morgana's hand and taking a step forward. "It's beautiful."
A fire was already burning in the centre of the cave, instantly banishing the cold from her bones and sending flashes reverberating over the walls and ceiling. Something was glittering there, catching the light and shining with every colour that Morgause had ever known. It was like the rock itself was alive, calling out to her, inviting her in deeper and deeper. The island had been breathtaking. This was something else entirely.
"Don't look at it," Morgana smiled.
"But... but it's so..."
"Don't look at it," Morgana repeated.
Morgause couldn't tear her eyes away. It felt like every bad thing that had ever happened to her, every pain she had ever felt, was melting away in the face of such beauty. She needed to see more of it, follow it as she could go. She took a step forward.
"Don't look at it," Morgana said again. "You aren't a Le Fay. Look at it and the cave will swallow you whole."
When Morgana took her hand, the longing to travel deeper into the cave went away, leaving her light headed. "What - What was that?"
"A defence mechanism," Morgana said simply.
"Magic?"
Morgana weighed it up, tilting her head to one side, then the other, not sure how to answer. "Something older."
"I thought you were just being poetic when you mentioned Gaia," Morgause murmured, tightening her hold on Morgana's hand, frightened that if she let go, then it would take hold of her again.
"I was," Morgana laughed. "We don't know what it is exactly, but what we do know is that it protects Le Fay's. Every single man who worked to dig out this cave was my kin, and not a single one of them got rich off the precious stones in these walls. They didn't take even one. But one day, whilst they were working, some bandits attacked. They held a knife to the man in charge and ordered the men to mine them some of the precious stone, or they would kill their leader. When they had what they wanted, they slit his throat anyway. The second the blood hit the stone floor, this place started defending itself. There was a small collapse - see, over there," she pointed out a hollow in the ceiling, " - that killed the bandits and saved the rest of the men. Ever since that day, only Le Fay's may enter unharmed." She squeezed Morgause's hand and leant closer to whisper into her ear. "And, of course, those whom we trust, those whom we protect with our touch."
"So if I let go..."
"You'll be lured into the depths of the cave and never find your way out," Morgana confirmed. A mischievous smile coloured her lips. "Some of my older cousins used to bring girls from the town here when I was young. It's quite famous for it. Its real name is the Veiled Cave, but everyone calls it Kissing Cave because the only thing that you can do here and be certain never to stop touching is..."
Morgause kissed her right on cue. "It isn't the only thing."
N/A - Not as much happening in this chapter as usual but I needed to fill in the gap of their last day before they leave and I've had a few requests for more backstory, so I used this opportunity to do that. It'll get more exciting again soon, I promise! There a few good twists coming up, if I do say so myself!