At My Most Beautiful (16/?) - (Morgana/Morgause)
Title: At My Most Beautiful (16/?)
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 confesses all to Gwen and Morgause returns to ill news.
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 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 |
Burningly-cold shivers scuttled over Morgana’s shoulders and down her back like beetles, despite her overly generous covering of furs. She knew that she looked absurd but Morgause had only laughed and whispered against her lips behind the cover of a dozen trees that she looked like a bear cub. Morgana hadn’t known whether to take that as a complement or not. In lieu of a decision, she had smiled. Morgause had said it sweet enough. She did not suppose that her fair knight would say anything to hurt her. Not again. She had promised. Then again, Morgana had been promised sweet things before and gotten only heartache and bruises.
At the thought of Uther, her heart quickened - quickened with every step of her horse that carried her closer and closer to Camelot. Her breaths were short and shallow, never reaching the depths of her lungs, never satisfying her need for air. Camelot’s walls were his crushing embrace, too hard and never yielding. In Camelot she would once again be a captive Queen. For he was Camelot and Camelot was him, and being within her dear city meant being at the mercy of its King. Something deep inside was screaming for her to gather her reins, dig in her heels and turn for the sea. Only with salty spray on her face and wealth of land between her and her King at her back, would she be able to breathe again. Sadly, it was not an impulse that she could indulge.
When the rush to flee threatened to overwhelm her, she turned to her right side to where Morgause rode tall and strong. There was a cold wind rippling through her golden hair and a pinking of her cheeks where the ice of the morning burned them. Her eyes were damp from the harshness of the air and, as she blinked against it, her eyelashes brushed gently against the rosé of her cheeks. As she was returning to her dear city, she was garbed for the first time in a long while in the full finery of a Knight of Camelot, her Pendragon cloak fanning out behind her like a great pair of crimson wings. It should have sent foul shivers down Morgana’s spine, but there was the flash of a chain at Morgause’s neck, falling down to where Le Fay green ruled over her heart. That alone was enough to settle her distaste at the patriotism. But even though Morgause looked more beautiful and more powerful in that moment than Morgana had ever seen her, not even her breath-stealing visage could bring calm to the Queen’s fearful heart.
When she turned back her eyes to the fore, she found Camelot’s Southern Arch swelling up from the land. Despite her fear, she felt a stirring low in her belly - she was coming home. Beyond that stone arch was Uther, but there was someone else waiting for her, someone who could eclipse all of the King’s wickedness with a single true smile. Her Gwen. Her Guinevere - a girl so much dearer to her than she could have imagined when they met as children, young and innocent. She was closer to Morgana than the sister she never had, more like a part of herself than another person, even as she was as different to Morgana as night was from the day. Morgana had never missed anyone as fiercely as she had missed her that past month. Not since her father had died had she felt such longing for the missing person by her side, the person with whom she wished to share every passing thought. And in the time she had been gone, there had been far more than just passing thoughts trailing through her mind. She had so much to tell her. So much good and so much that she were unsure that she should tell her at all - the things about Morgause, about sweet kiss in the night; the burning fire of the tavern room; the smooth white stone of Mermering; and the cool wind beside the spring on the island.
“Your people are out on the streets, Your Majesty,” Sir Leon called over the wind from her left, pulling her from her thoughts. Their scout, the young squire, had ridden back to his commander’s side with word of the gathering in the city. “They have been eagerly awaiting your return.”
“I suppose that my absence has not gone as unnoticed as my King would have hoped,” Morgana answered with a polite, if not entirely sincere, smile. She loved her people, but their attentions were tiring sometimes. She felt the expectations of every one of them resting on her shoulders and with the added weight an heir, she was afraid she would not be able to bear it.
“He cannot truly have thought that he could deceive our fair city as to your whereabouts for a whole month,” Morgause put in. Her words came surprisingly clearly to Morgana’s ear, as if she were speaking to her under the wind instead of over it. “Word of our Queen’s departure will have reached every kitchen fire the moment she put your heel to her horse’s flank.”
Morgana could not disagree.
“We shall need to make a stop so that I may shed my furs. It would not do for me to turn up looking like this,” she mused, as if even the thought of it was preposterous. She had, of course, thought this was a possibility, and had donned one of her finest gowns that morning. If she was to be paraded, then she would do so in the finery they would expect of their Queen. It was, after all, her duty.
The Commander nodded, “As you wish, Your Highness.”
As one, at Leon’s whistle, the knights circled her, manoeuvring their horses around her in a practiced formation, turning out to give her privacy and protection. For a moment, she felt quite alone, but then Morgause appeared through the slim gap between Leon and Gwaine and slipped from her horse with the grace of a doe. Morgana’s breath caught when Morgause reached her side and she realised, as she looked down at her, that in her gown, she was unable to dismount on her own. It was, of course, why she was riding side saddle. A flush crept up her neck.
“Your Highness,” Morgause murmured with a bow of her head, slowly raising her eyes to see Morgana’s answering nod. Permission granted, she reached up to put her hands to Morgana’s waist and, when her Queen pushed off, guided her smoothly to the ground. Fleetingly, her hands lingered.
Suddenly shy, Morgana slid off her furs and let Morgause bind them with a leather strap to the back of her saddle. The morning air washed over her like cold water, chilling her to the core. She shot a nervous look around to her protectors.
“Here,” Morgause whispered, stepping closer to rub the chill from her arms. “Let’s fix you for your people,” she whispered with a kind smile. And so Morgana stood rather stiffly and let her hitch down her skirt and fix her wind-ruffled hair into tight plaits that ran in parallel from her temples and joined at the base of her neck in a twisting bun. As Morgause worked, Morgana could not help but feel her cool skin heat wherever her knight’s fingers brushed it. The flush rose to her cheeks.
“You should take the rest of the day off,” she said impulsively, glad that the knights could not see her blush.
“What about...” Morgause lowered her voice. “What about telling Uther of the babe? I should not leave you.”
“I shall be fine,” Morgana insisted, hopeful that Morgause could not see the worry in her eyes. “He is my husband.” She swallowed. “He has been waiting for this for a long time.”
A flutter of a frown ghosted across Morgause’s face and was gone. “As you wish, Your Majesty. You, of course, know best.”
“You have family to see,” Morgana insisted. “I will have you back by my side soon enough, do not worry about that.” Boldly, she reached out to straighten Morgause’s cape over her shoulders, brushing out the creases. In a voice that was barely a whisper, she promised, “I would die, I know, if I were forced to spend more than a night parted from you.” Taking her voice down even quieter, she murmured, “I want so much to kiss you. Not being able to do so is the most exquisite torture I have ever faced. Come to me tonight and end my torment, I beg of you.”
“Nothing on this earth could keep me away.”
...
On entering her chambers and slowly pushing closed the heavy wooden door, the sight of Gwen -gazing out the window, silhouetted in a shaft of midday sun - took Morgana’s breath quite away. She was struck in that moment by how oddly empty her life had been without her. Even with Morgause to fill her with new and wondrous joy, she had been incomplete.
Gwen turned - her eyes wide and eager - and smiled joyfully bright.
“Your Majesty,” she gasped.
“Morgana,” the lady in question insisted, tears spilling down her cheeks as she gathered her skirts and ran to her maid. When she reached her, she threw her arms around her neck and buried her face in her soft black curls, breathing in the scent of soap and sweetness that always reminded her of the flaky custard tarts she had as a child in Mermering. “For you, Gwen, it is ’Morgana’, always.”
“I have missed you,” Gwen whispered, tucking her chin over Morgana’s shoulder and wrapping her in a tight hug, her whole body tingling. She rubbed her hand up the smooth silk of Morgana’s back and squeezed the warm skin where her neck flared to meet her shoulder.
Morgana closed her eyes and held her firmer, her tears still flowing. “And I have missed you! You know, I do believe that you give the best hugs that I have ever had.”
Gwen laughed, pulling back. “I very much doubt that.”
“You mustn’t, for it is true,” Morgana insisted, biting her lip and smiling. “You are so very important to me. You do know that, do you not?”
Gwen’s cheeks darkened and she reached up to dry Morgana’s tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “I do, though I do not quite know why.”
“A hundred thousand reasons. All of which makes you my family. You are my very closest companion - that will never change.” She caught Gwen’s hand as it left her cheek. “That is why I need you to be the first person in Camelot to whom I tell this.”
Gwen frowned in confusion, “Tell wha-”
The words caught in her throat when Morgana laid Gwen’s hand that she had captured flat upon her stomach. There Gwen felt the barest swell of a broad curve that had not been there before.
Her eyes went wide. “Morgana, you are... But this cannot be right - surely if it were this then you would first have told-”
“Morgause I told first, then my Aunt and now you,” Morgana clarified, holding Gwen’s hand in place. “In the quiet of my chambers, I choose to tell you. And you would have been the first if you had been closer - before him, at any rate.”
It was Gwen’s turn to weep, a single tear running down each cheek. She dropped her gaze and flexed her fingers over Morgana’s abdomen, wonder blurring her vision. “A babe,” she whispered.
“Yes.” Morgana smiled almost bashfully, the light of a summer afternoon blooming in her eyes. “So I shall need you more keenly than I have ever before. Both of us will.” She bowed her head. “I need to ask you, will you help us?”
That smile, Gwen found, was contagious. “Just you see if anyone could keep me away.”
…
“Aunt Morgause!”
The air was knocked from Morgause’s lungs the second she stepped over the threshold of her uncle’s house as her young cousin barrelled into her, his little arms barely making it halfway around her middle. She looked down at him, finding his eyes closed contentedly and his cheek pressed flat against her mail. Taking his shoulders, she drew him out to arms length and frowned at him.
“Who is this then? He cannot be my Tristan, for he is only a little boy. This boy is almost big enough to be a knight!” Morgause exclaimed, hands still on his shoulders.
“It is me, Aunt, it is!” Tristan shouted, jumping up and down excitedly. He and his sister had called her their aunt ever since they had learnt to speak. She was obviously far too old for them to rationalise her being their cousin, her Uncle had joked.
Morgause raised her eyebrow and narrowed her eyes. “I do not know...”
“I am! Tell him Father,” Tristan insisted giddily, whirling away to plead with his father for backup.
Lifting her eyes, Morgause found her uncle - a kindly man only five years older than Morgause herself. He looked more and more like her father every time she saw him. For a moment it startled her. Regaining her composure, she asked, “What do you say Rivalen?”
Her uncle squinted at the boy, an amused smile twitching the corners of his lips. “Aye, it’s him, Morg.”
Tristan nodded vigorously. “I grew. You have been gone forever.”
Morgause winked at him and ruffled his sandy-blond hair. “Well, how about that. It seems you are Tristan after all. Where is your sister?”
The boy’s face paled. “Ellie’s sick again.”
Worry flashed through Morgause and she looked again to her uncle. She saw now that the lines on his face had deepened and that his eyes were red - he had been crying - and he looked as though he had aged a decade in the few short weeks that she had been away. He held her gaze for a moment before looking away.
Turning back to her cousin, Morgause put on a brave face and smiled, crouching down to meet him. “Do you remember where I said that I was going?”
He shook his head, eyes wide and shiny with fear for his sister.
“Do you remember that I am the Queen’s guard now?” she began. He nodded. “Her majesty has an aunt, just like you have me. Only her aunt lives far away and she had not seen her for a very long time.”
“And you took her to see her?” The little boy asked, hugging himself and fidgeting with his feet. “Mother lived near the mountains when she was small - she tells us stories about them. Did you see the mountains?”
“I did see the mountains. I even climbed over one.”
“A real mountain?” Tristan asked, awed. “Not even mother has stories of climbing them, they’re so big!”
“Gargantuan,” Morgause confirmed. “And after that, we went to the sea.”
Tristan’s eyes went wide and his little mouth fell open. “Truly?”
Morgause reached into her pocked and pulled out an ivory shell, placing it in Tristan’s fingers. “Truly.”
“Look Father,” the boy said excitedly, turning to his father and holding up the shell. “Aunt Morgause went to the sea!”
“Isn’t that something,” Rivalen smiled. “Why don’t you go and show your sister?”
Tristan looked from his Father to Morgause and nodded, before running off up the stairs to the room he shared with his sister.
“He has missed you,” Rivalen told his niece, crossing to give her a hug. “We all have. I wanted to send word to you when Ellie took ill but Flor persuaded me to leave you be. It would not get you home any faster and there was nowhere to send a letter to with you on the road, she reasoned.”
“What happed?”
“She had one of her turns when she was playing with Tommy Miller near the wall. Poor lad, he’s almost a foot shorter than her but he seemed to have the strength of a giant that day. He carried her all the way home to us, as though she weighed nothing more than a feather.” Rivalen sighed. “She has had a fever ever since. Mrs. Rush says that she has never seen the like before. She doesn’t know what she can do for her.”
Morgause’s heart sank. “When did it happen?”
“A week and a half passed,” a young flaxen-haired woman said softly, walking into the light of the room, her arms wrapped around her middle just as her son had minutes earlier. Blancheflor was even younger than her husband. She was of an age with Morgause and had been schooled with her as a child. At one time Morgause had even taken a liking to her, but Flor was already engaged by then and Morgause loved her uncle too much to even think of interfering.
She smiled sadly at her old friend and drew her into a brief hug. “You were right, but I wish you had sent word.”
Flor shook her head. “All that would achieve would be making you worry yet be able to do nothing about it.”
“I could have been here for you all,” Morgause sighed.
“And abandon our Queen, nonsense. None of us here will complain of coming second to Her Majesty in your priorities,” Flor assured her, even and reasonable as always. “Even if you had come back, there was nothing you could have done, as there still is not.”
Morgause thought on her Queen. “That may not be entirely true.”
…
Morgana sighed contentedly and sunk deeper into the warm water. She had loved the vast baths at Mermering, but there was something comforting about reclining in her own tin bath - the one she had been bathing in since she was a child. Bath times then had been an excuse to break down the barriers of propriety between her and Gwen - her splashing her maid and Gwen predictably joining her in the dwindling water, splashing the young ward back. Gwen had gotten a lashing for it when the head maid had found out, but that hadn’t put an end to their fun. Morgana had gotten the stuffy old woman fired for it. No one hurt her Gwen and got away with it. In those days, Uther had never refused her a thing, and she had taken full advantage.
“Enjoying being pampered?” Gwen asked with a contentedly warm smile. She was sat on a small stool at the end of the bath, running her fingers through Morgana’s hair, working in the luxury sandalwood oil that only ever came out of its cupboard on special occasions. Morgana’s return and happy news was most definitely a special occasion.
“Mmmm...” Morgana moaned, her eyes closing as Gwen’s practiced fingers moved to her scalp. “Most definitely.”
“It is well deserved. You need to rest after your long journey north.” Gwen slipped her hands down Morgana’s neck to her shoulders. “Your muscles are so tense.”
“I was in need of you,” Morgana smiled, her eyes still closed, “to soothe them. It seems that I am not made for riding all day.”
Gwen made an agreeable sound and slid her hands back into Morgana’s hair. “I did not know what to do with myself with you gone. The castle was so quiet.”
“I hope that Emilie kept you occupied for the last week at least?” Morgana asked. “How is she doing? She showed promise at Mermering and her family has served mine for generations.”
“She is eager to learn, although inexperienced. What is it that you have in mind for her exactly?” Gwen asked a little warily. She took away her hands, her fingers tingling from their work. “Have - Have I been lacking in some way?”
Morgana’s eyes flew open and she pushed herself up in the water, sloshing some over the sides in her eagerness to put Gwen right. She twisted to face Gwen and reached out a wet hand to clasp together her hands. “You mustn’t think that. I only selfishly sought to keep you closer. I want you to have the time, when the babe is here, to help me look after him. Emilie will see to chores such as fetching laundry and cleaning. If I have one thing to complain about it is that you look after me too well. I found out to my peril this last month that I am quite incapable without you.”
Gwen smiled indulgently. “If you say so, my lady.”
The old title made Morgana smile, even as it was only a slip of the tongue. Things had been so much simpler back when she had only been Lady Morgana, the King’s ward. Gwen was her only real link to that time, when her whole world had consisted of the castle, its festivities and Gwen’s hushed and comforting tones. She had not known how lucky she had been.
“There is something else I wish to tell you,” Morgana said impulsively, not knowing that she had been about to say it until the words were falling from her mouth. “It is not something that you should know lightly, and I will not force the knowledge upon you. You could never breathe a word of it.”
“Tell me,” Gwen implored instantly - calm, with not so much as a flicker of hesitation.
Suddenly nervous of how Gwen might react, Morgana paused. “I - I should not have said anything. It would be unfair to-”
“You can trust me, Morgana. You know that I will take every confidence you afford me to my grave,” Gwen insisted, taking her hands from Morgana’s and using them to brush away the wet hair from her worried eyes.
“It is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of endangering you, of putting you in an impossible situation,” Morgana murmured in a low voice. “What I have to tell you is treasonous. More than that, it is not...”
“You could not put me in an impossible situation, no matter what you did or said. My loyalty is and always will be to you,” Gwen said resolutely, blushing a little as she did, but remaining steadfast. “You say that I must surely know what I mean to you. If so, then surely you must see that you are everything to me.” She took a deep steadying breath and looked deep into Morgana’s eyes, which were, as always, full of worry. “Tell me.”
Morgana glanced towards the door, as if to check it was still shut.
“Is it about Morgause?” Gwen asked softly.
Morgana turned back to her and nodded, droplets of water falling from the ends of her hair. “Something happened on the road to Mermering.” She paused and Gwen nodded for her to continue. “I had suffered one of my nightmares and she comforted me so sweetly and... she kissed me like he has never kissed me - so gentle and gallant. What I feel for her - what I’ve felt from the moment I met her - is nothing like I have felt before. I know that being with her is betrayal but-”
“You are happy with her?” Gwen interrupted. She already knew the answer. She had seen it the first day that the Queen had met Morgause.
“I am,” Morgana said quietly.
Gwen’s worried expression grew serene. “Then tell me everything. We have never kept secrets from one another. I for one do not intend to start doing so now.”
“Everything?” Morgana asked, hesitant.
Gwen laughed and brushed a drop of water off Morgana’s cheek. “Everything you wish to tell me.”
Morgana’s eyes lit up and she nodded. “Everything.”
A/N - Sorry again for this taking so long. I promise that I won’t let the gap between this and the next chapter be anywhere near as long. My laptop broke and what with Christmas, New Year and exams that are worth most of my degree to study for, I have not had the time or the equipment to write this. I originally intended this chapter to include Morgana’s meeting with Uther, but I decided to keep the focus more on Morgana and Gwen’s relationship as it flowed better.
Next Time - After meeting with Morgana, Uther calls for Morgause to be brought before him immediately. Is their secret already out? Or does the King have other motives?