At My Most Beautiful (25/?) - (Morgana/Morgause)
Title: At My Most Beautiful (25/?)
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9,000 for this chapter
Chapter Summary: With Morgause absent both emotionally and physically, Morgana risks revealing their relationship to one person and her magic to another.
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
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 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19| Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24
Morgause woke before sunrise the next morning with none of the feeling that had so overwhelmed her the night before. Her heart seemed not to beat at all and she felt quite hollow. Desiccated. She could not bear to lie like that beside Morgana who was so contented, so warm and full. She had slept soundly, whilst Morgause’s nightmares had eaten her from the inside out.
At the window out of which she had so often watched the city stir, she could get no solace. She did not feel the cold of the stone on her bare thighs when she dropped onto it, seeming to go from standing to sitting without the bit in-between. Hours passed in what appeared to be minutes. They must have, for it was fully light when Morgana called to her from the bed.
“You ought to have woken me with you,” Morgana susurrated, her voice heavy with sleep. She looked like the nameless earth goddess on that bed - naked and rounded and soft. Where this sight would have stirred her deeply once, still Morgause felt nothing.
“You need your sleep,” Morgause reasoned, hoping to sound compassionate. She certainly wanted to feel compassionate. She loved this woman in front of her more than she had ever thought it possible to love a person, yet she could feel none of it. None.
Morgana smiled indulgently, unaware of her love’s troubles. “Everyone is telling me what I need and no one is listening to what I want.”
“And what do you want?”
Dipping her head, Morgana blushed and smiled, as if what she wanted was the most obvious thing in the world. Her smile brightened when she looked back up to Morgause - seeing her Knight haloed in the window, long golden hair falling over her breasts to her newly muscled stomach.
“You, of course. I want you,” Morgana said, half laughing and half dreamily whispering. She felt like she was in her own fantasy.
Morgause was acutely aware that if ever there had been a time since she awoke to feel something, then that would have been the moment. Nothing.
Hoping to hide her indifference from Morgana, she smiled - in a way she knew from the past was at least somewhat convincing - and subtly changed the subject. “But you see, I have a pressing engagement to fulfil - or rather procure - this morn. I cannot lounge about in bed.”
Looking confused, Morgana asked, “If you already have the engagement, then surely you would not need to procure it.”
Her eyes sparkled, pleased at her cleverness at seeing the nonsense in Morgause’s words.
At that, Morgause laughed - though she felt no mirth - and rose from her icy window seat. “Then what I should have said, is that I have a pressing need and am in want of someone to fulfil it.”
Morgana smiled, catlike. “Whatever need you have, I can fulfil it.”
“I need a haircut.”
This was greeted with silence. Silence and disappointment.
“But it is so pretty!” Morgana gushed in astonished outrage. If she could have leapt to her feet and run her fingers through it - in what was looking like one of her last opportunities to do so - she would have. Unfortunately, the twins did not really allow for leaping. She was wont to topple over.
Morgause felt a flicker of… something… but it was gone as soon as it appeared. She could well have imagined it.
“Why would you grow it just to cut it!” Morgana continued. The fact that Morgause had grown her hair almost down to her waist whilst away and was now proposing cutting it off had her rather outraged. She had not had the opportunity to enjoy it. As much as feeling Morgause’s enlarged muscles had made her stomach flutter when she ghosted her fingers over them, she had also swooned to see such long, beautiful hair. She had dreamt of watching her fight in the tourney arena with her hair flowing and enchanting as she metaphorically slew her opponent.
“When at war, my father would refuse to cut his hair as a symbol of his grief at being parted from my mother. Only when he returned to her would he allow it to be cut,” Morgause explained, sensing that she was doing the tale an injustice for lack of embellishment. Despite her inadequate retelling, Morgana’s eyes dampened and shone.
“You… You did this out of… Out of something for me?”
Again, Morgause felt a flicker. “Devotion. Love. For those reasons, I did this for you. I missed you every moment of every day we were parted, and yet I could not have borne for you to be in a place so wretched at a time so wretched.”
She realised this was the first time she had hinted to the negatives of the war. Not that she thought Morgana dim enough to not know of their existence. More that she did not wish to highlight them, lest her peculiarly empty state of being be revealed. This was her problem. She would not burden anyone else with it, especially not Morgana.
Silence stretched as Morgana’s mouth formed an elongated ‘O’ of surprise or something like it.
“Who cut your father’s hair?” she asked in what sounded like a hopeful tone.
“My mother,” Morgause answered before she realised where this was going.
“Then I will call for scissors and you can instruct me on your preferred length,” Morgana said, simultaneously decisive and wary of being rejected. If Morgause had one fault in their relationship, it was that she - like everyone else at court - sometimes seemed to regard Morgana as less capable than she was.
“Morgana, you really do not have to-”
“Your father’s wife did it for him, please do not deny me the honour of doing this small duty for you.” Morgana’s plea was so impassioned that it gave Morgause hope. If anything could fill her emptiness, it would be Morgana’s insatiable love and her desire to be everything for her.
“Of course it must be you,” Morgause conceded, sitting beside Morgana on the bed and taking her hands. She kissed them both, wishing she could muster the feeling to kiss her lips. They had always seemed softest and plumpest in the morning, she recalled. “Forgive me?”
Morgana’s smile said that she would always forgive her, no matter what her crime.
*~*
The scissors promptly arrived, clutched in Gwen’s worn hands. She smiled reassuringly at Morgause and assured her of Morgana’s at least basic competence at cutting hair - her having cut Gwen’s after her father had died, when there was no one left at home to do it for her. The arrangement had not lasted long, but long enough for Morgana to become quite competent. Morgause thought about that as she sat on a dining chair that was positioned centrally in the largest room of Morgana’s chambers, in the middle of a shaft of sunlight that caught the dust in the air and made it glitter. She wondered if Gwen had sat just here and wondered what she and Morgana had talked of. Had Gwen instructed her? That seemed unlikely. Had they discussed other things? Frivolous things? Serious things?
Morgause could not think of one sincere thing to say.
“I shall plait it first, I think,” Morgana said decidedly, as though she did this for a profession or at least as a hobby. Not that Morgause could imagine anyone doing that. There was no need for it, surely? But then again, there was no need in alehouses, and those were quite a money earner in the right pair of hands. Or at least she must suppose, from their being always so busy.
“Whatever you think well,” Morgause agreed, knowing as soon as she said it that she sounded dense and not one bit like herself.
Morgana’s fingers slipped into her hair, first just combing it, feeling it, then dividing it into two at her parting.
“Such beautiful hair you have,” Morgana complimented, her voice suggesting that she was smiling. “I could run my fingers though this golden silk all day and never get tired of it slipping cool and soft between my fingers.”
“It is more nuisance to me than anything else. I would cut it all off if it did not make me look like a boy.”
Morgana laughed, her voice bright and rolling like hills in sunlight. “Nothing could make you look like a boy. Not even if I cut all your hair off and bound your breasts. No boy has eyes like yours or skin so soft. No boy has lips so flushed and tender or beauty so radiant. Even in full armour, you shine brightly as the finest and most lovely woman in the room. On the tourney field you dance around you opponents. No one could look at you and think you a boy.”
Morgause’s lips smiled of their own accord. Evidently they had felt some emotion that her heart had not. “You know, I worried at first that you loved me only because you saw me as a charming Knight.”
“Nonsense. I could not have loved you if you were any other Knight,” Morgana assured her, sounding hurt at Morgause’s admission. “Not the way that I love you.”
Morgause bit her tongue, admonishing herself but unable to apologise. She would not have been able to mean it, not properly, and Morgana would surely hear something missing in her voice. It was only a while later, when her intricate plait was compete, that she realised that she should have told Morgana that she loved her too.
“You could wear it like this,” Morgana suggested after a long silence. “I need not cut it at all. I could braid it for you instead - have a chain of vine leaves made to weave into it, show every enemy you face that you have my favour and so cannot lose.”
“A lovely thought,” Morgause conceded. “Nevertheless, you must cut it. For tradition’s sake at least.”
“Fine then,” Morgana said huffily, clearly unhappy with the woman perched on the chair in front of her. She had been standing far too long and her back radiated pain. A little gratefulness would not go amiss. To spite her lover, she snipped off the loose hair at the end of the braid and would cut no more.
*~*
Despite her failing empathy, Morgause could not help but notice that Morgana was peeved and best left alone. Morgause sent for a guard and told Morgana that she was going to visit her family, and that she was not invited. Truth be told, she was disappointed in Morgana. She had expected more understanding from her. A woman who had lost her father to war should know enough of its terrors to allow Morgause some fault of character upon her return. Evidently, carrying Uther’s babes had robbed her of her sweet sensibilities. It was easier to at least pretend to blame him.
The walk to her uncle’s house did nothing to relieve her disdain for Morgana’s mood. It did, however, allow her the time to put it to the back of her head and focus on appearing normal for the children’s’ sake. She was on her way to see her Eleanor, her Ellie, whose eyes she had not looked into for a very long time. Surely she could stir in her what had been missing.
“Aunt Morgause!” the child cried as soon as she knocked on the door. Looking up, Morgause saw her hanging out of the first floor window. “Catch me!”
Morgause’s eyes widened, but she had no time to let worry enter her mind as Eleanor leapt from the window and came tumbling down into her arms.
“You’re back!” Ellie shrieked excitedly, peppering Morgause’s face with damp kisses, giggling all the while.
“Eleanor!” came Flor’s stern voice from the newly opened door. Morgause could not see her for kisses. “Was lying unconscious in bed for weeks not enough a drain on my nerves that now you have to launch yourself out of windows to fray them further?”
Ellie bit her lip and grinned before turning around in Morgause’s arms to face her mother’s wrath. She was no stranger to tellings off. She was the wild Wilde. Flor said it was Morgause’s fault, though Morgause quietly believed Rivalen to be more to blame than her. He was the one who had invented tree hopping as a sport. She had merely partaken. Granted, she had been the first to put a bow in the girl’s hands, but she could never have foreseen the squirrel incident.
Both blondes gave Flor puppydog eyes and matching pouts.
“You’re nothing but trouble, Euraid-Geneth,” Flor admonished fondly, using her old nickname for her friend. Morgause had been the golden girl of their magic community in Camelot before The Great Purge, with her easy flare for magic and the natural strength of it running through her. “And that look stopped working on me years ago.”
Morgause stepped over the threshold, into the only place she could be completely herself. Ellie wriggled from her grasp just in time to avoid the crushing hug that her mother wrapped her aunt in.
“Do not dare leave us again. I could not bear the worry,” Flor whispered in her ear, squeezing her tighter. She turned her head to kiss Morgause’s cheek tenderly. “Now go and sit at the table whilst I fetch some winter fruit pie.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Shut up,” Flor said, slapping her arm and kissing her cheek again.
*~*
“Amina is here to see you, “Emilie announced primly, walking in on Morgana and Gwen taking lunch. “She is setting up in your bedroom.”
Morgana looked apologetically at her friend for having to cut short their meal.
“I was going to go down into the market, anyway,” Gwen assured her. “I have something on order with the weaver.”
“Only if you’re sure,” Morgana said, though they both knew that Amina could not be dissuaded when she decided that Morgana needed an examination.
“Morgana!” Amina called from the other room, completely unfazed by Morgana’s station.
Gwen smiled almost mischievously. “Good luck.”
Morgana sighed and hid her face in her hands. It had been a decidedly less than perfect day, and she had the feeling that it was about to get worse.
Amina called for her again.
*~*
“I like your hair,” Ellie declared, playing with the braid she had pulled over Morgause’s shoulder. “It’s very pretty. Did the Queen do it? Mother said that you live with the Queen now to protect her. When is she having the babe? Will we get to see it? Is your hair longer?”
Morgause waited for a moment to collect the answers in the right order. “Yes, soon, maybe and yes.”
Ellie looked up with a frown. “Why ‘maybe’?”
“Eleanor!” Flor admonished.
“Because,” Morgause began, poking Ellie’s stomach gently to make her giggle, “they cannot leave the castle until they’re bigger. But maybe we can sneak you in to see them.”
“Them?!”
“Ah, yes. We think there might be two of them. A boy and a girl.” Morgause smiled. She could almost feel something again. Ellie was certainly a suitable distraction - wide-eyed and giggly on her knee. “And before you ask: No, you cannot name them.”
“Why did you not ride Dream here?” Ellie asked, making the mental leap. “I have not seen her in so long and we do not have a horse to ride. I am definitely big enough.”
And then it hit her: grief, raw and un-tempered. The emptiness inside her was suddenly filled with a hot, salty ocean that threatened to come spilling out of her. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? She had not let herself think on Dream, lest she remember the moment she had been taken from her. It had been brutal. The man responsible had lost his sword hand for it and then his life.
“Ellie, there is something I need to tell you.”
All of a sudden, the little girl’s face became very serious. Children were more perceptive than adults gave them credit for.
“That is what Father says when something bad has happened and I just do not know about it yet.”
Morgause nodded and brushed Ellie’s golden hair out of her face. A tear fell from her cheek to Ellie’s. Then another. And another. “Dream… Dream could not…” She did not manage to get the words out before the trickle of tears turned into a flood.
“She died,” Ellie whispered, heartbroken, her head bowing.
“I am so, so sorry,” Morgause croaked, disgusted in herself for so failing this perfect little girl whom she loved so much.
Ellie’s arms went around her neck and she hugged her almost as tight as her mother had. “It’s okay. I can help you find a new horse. And if father says I can borrow his pigments, I can make you a picture of her.”
When Morgause only cried harder, Ellie bit her lip and snuggled into Morgause’s neck, squeezing her harder.
*~*
“You are growing fast,” Amina commented, removing the measurement ribbon from Morgana’s stomach and noting the diameter in her book. She straightened and began pressing her hands against the Queen’s swollen middle, finding both babes. “At this rate, you might have them in your arms quicker than we thought.”
Morgana, about to voice her approval at that, shut her mouth and blushed when Amina’s hands came up to her breasts.
“What are you-”
“I have to check that you are developing right and that there aren’t any lumps that could become abscesses. Sometimes there are blockages. Has there been any tenderness?” Amina asked, her tone all business. It made Morgana uneasy. She had had only one maid her entire life and - but for the time after Morgana’s coronation - Gwen had never been formal with her when they were alone. Formality reminded her of Uther.
“A little,” she answered, blushing deeper when she recalled Morgause’s hands, lips and tongue on her the night before. She had never felt the like of it before. “They are more sensitive. Sometimes that hurts.”
“Is there anywhere in particular that hurts?”
Morgana shook her head, trying to shake off the memory of her Knight worshiping her breasts, murmuring appreciation for their new form. It was proving to be a hard recollection to forget, and Morgana was glad for the cold already having hardened her nipples. She did not think she could have stood the embarrassment. Amina was sure to take it the wrong way.
“Good. What about milk? Any sign of that making an early appearance?”
Morgana’s eyes widened when she contemplated with horror what might have happened if any of… that had appeared when Morgause took her to bed the night before.
“No! Will it?” she asked, her mouth hanging open in shock whilst she waited for her answer.
“It may. Many of the women I have cared for have experienced it, though I myself did not with my daughter. It is nothing to worry about if you do see some. There will not be much.” Amina lifted her eyes from Morgana’s breasts and smiled at her horror-struck expression. “Still, it might be best to wear a thicker underdress in case you are in public and it happens.”
Unable to speak, Morgana nodded dumbly.
“Now,” Amina continued, taking a step back and fixing Morgana with a quite terrifying gaze - like that of a governess, “I dare say, from you not being in tears in bed, that your Knight has come home safely.”
Fear flashed in her belly. She nodded.
Amina’s eyes left hers for a moment, going to the bedside table and back to her. Morgana turned to see that the woman’s gaze had gone to the gold lock of hair she had tied with a ribbon and planned to make a keepsake of. Her skin flamed a brilliant fiery cold and her knees went weak.
“Is she gentler than your husband, or do I have to have words with her too?” Amina asked, voice carefully neutral.
“I…” Morgana’s mouth was dry and she could not breathe, never mind turn back around again. She felt her magic - or was that the babes’ magic? When had she started thinking of it as her own? - bubbling up in her chest and tingling at her fingertips.
“I saw only one Knight with hair like that as the feast last night. There is no point in denying it,” Amina continued, taking a step towards her.
The movement made Morgana jump and whirl around, her fear rising to terror. The world blurred and heat roared at her side, glittering.
Amina screamed as fire crackled into existence in mid-air, suspended by wild magic and fear alone. It bloomed and flickered, and Morgana, terrified, backed away.
“It’s alright!” Amina tried to shout over the noise of the blaze. “Do not be afraid. I can tame it. Just step back and try to keep your magic under control.”
At that moment, Gwen came hurrying in - not having left yet at all. Her eyes went from the fire to Morgana, seeing her absolute, abject fear. Ignoring the blaze, she ran to her side, taking her in her arms and shielding the commotion from her view.
Morgana, her whole world falling apart, was overcome and fainted. Only by some miracle did Gwen hold her weight.
~*~
Morgause’s tears were finally drying when Rivalen and Tristan returned from their fishing trip. The young boy ran to meet his aunt, proudly presenting her with the fish he had caught in her honour. He seemed to have so grown up in her absence that Morgause almost wanted to cry again, but then he clambered up onto her knee, one arm going around her neck as he laid his head on her chest, quite content. Perhaps things had not changed so much after all. She lifted her eyes from the little boy in her arms to his father, who watched them from the shadows of the kitchen with a small smile, nodding his welcome.
After the dinner had been eaten and the children put to bed, Flor excused herself to the kitchen and left Morgause and Rivalen alone beside the fire. She had never been one for subtlety and they both knew that they would be in trouble if they had not talked by the time she returned.
“The war has taken its toll on you,” Rivalen said quietly after a long, almost awkward stretch of silence. “I have known you since the hour of your birth and never once have I seen your eyes so lifeless. Not even after your father died.”
Morgause hung her head, ashamed.
“Tell me what happened. You know that I will take every one of your secrets to my grave. I will not even tell Flor, I promise you.” He reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know that I could never replace your father, but it is my duty to you to try. I love you as much as I love Eleanor and Tristan, and seeing you so in turmoil pains me as greatly as any illness or injury they have taken - and Eleanor has had more than her fair share of those.”
When the firelight flickered to illuminate Morgause’s face, it showed tracks of tears running down her cheeks. Slowly and warily, she told him everything. She told him of the battles and how she had been called ‘hero’. She told him of the boys not so very older than Tristan who had fallen by her side and how she could do nothing to protect them, and how that did not stop their faces haunting her dreams. She told him how that had been bearable until Edwin, and how that had made her feel even worse. She told him about Edwin’s threat and how he had come so close to carrying it through. She told him how worthless it had made her feel and how she could never think of herself as a Knight again - not after how starkly her weaknesses had been exposed.
Then she told him of Edwin’s death at her hands and how void it had left her.
“Who else have you told of this?” Rivalen asked when she was done, his face contorted with worry. She had pulled her hand from his grip and he ached to reach out and take it again. Or else take her in his arms. But she was too old for that now and he feared that she would see it as condescending.
“My brothers know a little but none knows everything,” Morgause admitted, staring unseeing into the fire. “Not even my commander.”
Rivalen sighed, gearing up enough courage to ask his next question. “What about the Queen? If you can find peace in anyone, it will be her.”
“How long have you known?” Morgause asked, unsurprised. Rivalen and Flor knew of her inclinations and even the children at least partially understood. As she had told Morgana, it had not been uncommon amongst the followers of the Old Religion and though she had to hide it from Camelot’s society, the rules changed once she stepped over her uncle’s threshold. She had always been free in his house. That he had guessed of her attachment to Morgana was, therefore, always inevitable.
“Since first I saw you two together. Flor and I knew instantly. She has visited us countless times since you left, and even though she does not speak of your connection, she has shown her grief at your parting and her fondness for you. It would be impossible for her to hide that, I think.” He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands in his lap. “I cannot pretend that I think her the safest choice for you, nor that I would not rather you settled with someone else. Someone safer. But you cannot help who you fall in love with - Gods know that I could not help but love Flor, despite the difference in our years - and our Ellie would be gone from us, I fear, without her help.”
Morgause smiled faintly, remembering both Rivalen’s romance of Flor and Morgana’s charity. “You should have seen how impassioned she was in demanding the physician’s presence. She sent the letter that very night and could not sleep for worry.”
“She has a bold and kind heart,” Rivalen agreed. “Camelot has never loved a Queen so ardently. Nor has any other Queen deserved such love.”
Morgause’s smile grew a little. “And I would wager that no Queen has ever loved her people more.”
“That is the first time I have seen you smile - when you are talking about her. Not even Ellie’s antics could raise one during dinner.”
The smile flickered and went out. “She deserves better than me.”
Rivalen frowned. “How can you say that? Would you not die for her?”
“Instantly,” Morgause enthused. “And without a thought.”
“Would you willingly be parted from her?” Rivalen continued, a smile playing on his lips.
“Never,” Morgause whispered, her eyes full of pain at the thought.
“What would you do for her?”
“Anything. Everything,” Morgause murmured, her eyes still on the fire, willing some of its heat into her heart.
“Would you ever hurt her?” Rivalen asked finally, though he was already satisfied that she deserved all of Morgana’s love. No one could love so fiercely as a Wilde. History had proved that.
“No!” Morgause exclaimed, turning fiery eyes on her uncle. “Never! I would rather die than lay a finger on her, rather take my own life than cause her sadness or pain!”
“Then you are more than deserving,” Rivalen avowed. She sighed and again looked away. “Morgause, if I might be so bold, allow me to point out your great weakness.”
“Why not. I will not feel it.”
Rivalen clenched his jaw and continued. “You forget that you have royal blood in your veins and the Gods’ gift of magic in you. You are a daughter of the Old Religion and boast the strongest magic in a generation. You were born to be a High Priestess and yet all you see yourself as is a peasant unworthy of a Queen’s love.”
“I cannot practice, Rivalen, you know that,” Morgause murmured wearily. “If any of us were to then…”
“I am not telling you to practice. Gods forgive me, I beg you not to. If the King knew you had the means to wield magic, then we would all of us lose our lives. What I ask is for you to let who you truly are into your heart. Our family may be a shadow of what it once was, but it will not forever be that way. You are a fine match for a Queen, especially a Le Fay. They broke their ties with the Old Religion and suffered for it with the loss of their magic - you know the tale. That the Queen has opened herself to you will please the Gods. Perhaps even enough to forget their forsaking of this land and our two families.”
Something tingled beneath Morgause’s skin, kindling her magic. She brushed her hands over her arms and shivered. “She does not seem to know of her family’s history. The Le Fay’s have been Christian for too long. Of the faith of her mother’s family, she seems to know naught. I feel like a traitor in her bed for keeping it from her, but it is not my place to tell her.”
“It is not your place to withhold it from her either,” Flor said from the doorway. Morgause turned to see her illuminated in the firelight, her expression firm. “Surely she must get enough of that from the men of court.”
Shame prickled hot over Morgause’s body, making her squirm. “She does.”
“Then tell her,” Rivalen entreated. “Tell her of your pain and her inheritance.”
She couldn’t. Not until she had the babes safe in her arms. A few more weeks of ignorance were worth keeping Morgana from worry whilst she was so taxed, so vulnerable. At least she hoped that Morgana would see it that way.
~*~
Three weeks passed with the only real connection between Queen and Knight coming when they were stripped of their clothes and passion overcame them. In that, they were closer than ever. Morgana seemed to sense Morgause’s distance and gave herself over more completely to her, whispering adorations with every kiss, every touch. Even when it became increasingly uncomfortable, she would not deter her Morgause, whose wanting seemed greater than ever, needing to be satisfied every night. It was all worth it for those few moments of closeness afterwards. Morgause would smile, tell her she loved her and kiss her like everything was perfect. It wasn’t.
“I do not know what to do,” Morgana confessed to her lady-in-waiting. Gwen was accompanying her for lunch whilst Morgause was summoned to her commander. It was the first time they had been alone since the fire. “It is like she is not there. Like she stayed behind on the battlefield and all that has returned to me is the vacant shell. I feel like a failure for not being able to make her feel better. But then I feel just like Uther, for making every issue about myself.”
“You should talk to her about it,” Gwen encouraged. “Make her connect with you. You are the one she loves. She chooses to be with you. If anyone can help her, it is you.”
Morgana did not know what she would do if she could not. The magic in her babes grew with them. By the time, in four or five years, they had matured enough for it to make itself known, they would need Morgause to guide them.
“May I… May I ask you something?” Gwen asked tentatively, as if knowing where Morgana’s thoughts lingered.
“Anything, you know that.”
“The fire. It was magic, was it not?” Gwen inquired, holding Morgana’s gaze to show her that she was not afraid.
Morgana nodded. “Morgause’s. The babes’. Mine. I am not sure anymore.” At Gwen’s confusion, she continued. “There is an island off Mermering. My family owns it. Legend says that it is a place of great magic. Morgause and I were joined there and the magic in her - old, strong magic - was poured into me and took seed in my babes, connecting her to them in a way that neither of us could ever have imagined. I feel her ties to them like a physical chord that pulls when she leaves us. Sometimes, I think it is the only thing holding us together anymore.”
“I cannot believe that.”
“I worry that, without her to guide me, the magic will make itself known through me again. I worry that this time, Uther will see. I worry that you have not touched me since that day. Not unless you have had too,” Morgana mumbled, her head bowed. She swallowed. “You do not owe me anything, Guinevere. You are not indebted to me. I hope you feel free to leave and never see me again if that is what you desire.”
The silence broke her heart.
“How - How could you ever think that I would leave you, my Lady?”
Morgana’s head snapped up. Gwen’s eyes were blurry and wide. She looked as though she had just taken a blow to the chest. The old formality registered with neither of them.
“Morgana, I love you. I love you. I do not care if you have magic. That you have it has only proved to me that it must be a most divine and good thing. Anything that comes from you could be nothing but good.” As if realising what she had just said, Gwen blushed and averted her eyes.
Morgana could say nothing for a long moment.
“How exactly did you mean that you love me?” she asked hesitantly.
“I mean that I love you,” Gwen said simply. “I feel for you more than I have ever felt for anyone. I want to be with you every moment of the day. I want to be close to you. I want to kiss your cheek, embrace you and hold your hand. But I do not want you like Morgause wants you. I do not know why, I just do not. It is different, I think, from the way she loves you. I am not really sure what it is.”
“And I am not sure that I understand,” Morgana interjected when Gwen paused, trying hard to comprehend what Gwen was trying to tell her.
Gwen confessed that she did not want the sort of relationship that Morgana had with Morgause, but that she envied their closeness and affection. “I just love you.”
Morgana’s forehead was wrinkled and her eyes pinched. “I cannot break my attachment with Morgause, no matter how hard it is being tested or how dearly I love you. Some things are meant to be and I have known that I am meant to be with Morgause from the moment she kissed me.”
Gwen shook her head. “I could never ask you to do that. Not when she makes you so happy and gives you things that do not think I can. Your relationship does not inspire jealousy in me. It just pleases me that she makes you happy. Though, it also saddens me that I have less importance in your life now.”
“It is funny,” Morgana said, her voice almost distant. “Morgause once said almost the exact same thing to me about not being able to give me what Uther can. The truth us, she has given me more than he ever could. And you have already given me more than I could ever have asked for. You and I are family.” She took Gwen’s hand and rested it on her swollen stomach, watching Gwen smile as she felt the babes shift. “You are their family. I could be no other way. I will not let you be pushed out.”
Gwen looked at Morgana as though she could not understand her acceptance and kindness.
“I may not completely understand what you feel. From what you have said, I am not sure that you fully understand it either, but I hope you will feel able to tell me when you do understand it. I will keep any secret that you give me without judgement, as you have for me. I will always be here for you,” Morgana promised, thinking on Morgause too and how desperately they needed to be honest with each other.
“And I for you,” Gwen vowed, blushing as Morgana’s lips brushed over her knuckles.
~*~
Ever since returning from the war, Sir Leon had been requiring Morgause to train with her brothers for at least one hour out of every day. At first, Morgause had resisted. She had not acknowledged that anything could be more important than being by Morgana’s side. A few months previous, Leon would have agreed. Now they needed to recognise that larger problems faced their good Kingdom and that, for better or worse, Morgause seemed destined to have a hand in shaping all of their futures.
The war had been won and the enemy sent home defeated. That did not mean, however, that Camelot was victorious. Not yet. She had seen two years of the worst harvests in living memory. Disease and drought had stunted her crops and the inability to make and remain friends with her neighbours had hampered trade and the prospect of aid. Little could be done to change the weather or the blight of disease other than prayer, and God seemed to be turning a deaf ear on Camelot of late. Insuring the good will of the surrounding kingdoms was, therefore, the only hope for improving the lives of Camelot’s citizens in the immediate future. The inter-kingdom tournament - the event which had been planned specifically to cultivate this good will - would take place in two weeks’ time and Sir Leon was begrudged to admit that he was unfit to fight in it.
“Morgause,” he greeted with a smile when she was shown into his office early that afternoon. She looked marginally more lively than she had on their last private meeting the day after their return. Her hair remained long despite her frequent complaints of its impracticalities over dinner with the other Knights of the First Companies in their communal tent, usually followed by a joke from Gwaine about Leon’s own newly cropped hair.
“Commander,” Morgause nodded, standing to attention in the middle of the small stone room.
“Please, sit,” Leon invited. “It is not like I can stand.”
Morgause frowned. “I take it this is about the tournament then,” she guessed, noting his tone. The Knights had been whispering about it for weeks. It was clear that Leon could not fight and that he would need a replacement. Bets had been taken on whether the King would truly follow through with the rules of their order and allow a woman to take the commander’s place.
Leon nodded and gestured to the empty chair before his desk. She sat. If he was about to gently relieve her of her responsibilities as Camelot’s standby champion, then she may as well be comfortable. He was likely to spend a good deal of time apologising.
“Most of the duty of the champion is ceremonial. I will still be able to greet and entertain the champions of the surrounding kingdoms. I will still sit at the head table and join the discussions of the kings. You will need only to fight in my place.” He smiled, knowing she had not been expecting it. None of them had been expecting it. Leon had a sneaking suspicion that Uther had only agreed to it to avoid the inevitable argument with his Queen. “Though, I would not object to you joining me in entertaining the royalty who really matter - the ones with all the power. You will be perfectly positioned to gain favour with them, and that could make all the difference.”
Morgause wished that she could smile at that. She would have, once. Sir Leon truly was a commander like none who had gone before him. “I will be by Morgana’s side to entertain the queens,” she confirmed. “The Queen has already begun planning their programme for the week. There is to be walks in the garden, musical performances by our harpist and his talented young daughter, and many a fine meal.”
“Our greatest chances of securing allies, I think, may rest on her charms. If so, I am confident that we will succeed,” Leon said with a smile that dropped when Morgause did not share it. He sighed, his heart lead-heavy in his chest. “Morgause, we need to talk about what happened with King Edwin and how it has affected you.”
“I would rather not, Commander,” Morgause said pleadingly. He had never heard her plead before. Not even when the older squires had locked her in the armoury on the night she turned sixteen. If she had pleaded, which he doubted, it would not have been heard over the sound of her breaking through the thick oak doors with an antique axe.
“And I would rather we did,” he countered, making clear that the conversation was non-negotiable. “You have not been the same since that night and I am beginning to worry that it might impede your ability to carry out your job.”
She turned away, hurt.
“I can see by your reaction that you have thought on it yourself, which means that you and I need to talk. Daily if need be. I will not lose another of my best Knights to that man. I cannot afford it, the Queen cannot afford it and Camelot cannot afford it. So please, Morgause, talk to me - for Queen and Camelot.”
For Queen and Camelot, Morgause agreed.
~*~
Every day, at the fall of dusk, Commander and Champion met on the battlements of Camelot’s tallest tower. Morgause told him everything except for her relationship with Morgana. He listened intently and gave his opinion or advice when he could. Mostly, though, the listening helped the most. Morgause told him how she had felt that day and counted up all the small sparks of emotion that seemed greater in number every day. She told him of her frustration with herself and how worried she was over the coming tournament and the impending arrival of the prince and princess.
“You never know, they might surprise us and both be boys. I certainly wouldn’t say no to a couple more fine Knights in a decade and a half, when my knees are stiff and my movements slow,” Leon said with a smile. They were both stood with their arms resting on the stone wall, leaning to look down at the new squires training in the field below. “We will definitely need them if these new recruits are anything to go by.”
Morgause laughed. Her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. “Morgana is sure there is a girl in there. Though that might just be wishful thinking.”
“Best not to say that to her,” Leon warned with a glint in his eye. “I would not like to argue with her at the best of times, never mind over her babes. A Queen is always right. It is sometimes just the Kings who forget that.”
Morgause nodded, agreeing. “I think that the King wants two boys. He keeps referring to them as such, no matter how hard Morgana tries to deter him.”
“Two boys would ease his worries more than one,” Leon reasoned. “He does not want to leave his kingdom behind without an heir. He saw what that did to Cenred’s kingdom. He does not want that for his people.”
“No.” Despite all of Uther’s faults - and Morgause could name hundreds of them - he did love his people, even if he did not always appear to. “And there is pride at stake too. King Raigal has seven sons and three daughters, and is yet younger than our King. Even the young King Thomas has his two sons.”
Neither of them mentioned the fact that Uther already had plenty of children. Twelve by Morgause’s count. If they were not legitimate, they might as well not exist. That was the problem with all this ‘one God’ mess - far too many rules. Not that the Old Religion was completely free of such constraints. Marriage was still preferred, though children need not be born from one.
“Will you be there, do you think, when the babes are born?” Leon asked, wincing as a lad of fourteen was knocked off his feet and into a trough of water.
Morgause smiled brightly, if shyly. “If the Queen wants me there. I suppose the men have told you of the reading material I took with me to war?”
Leon laughed and nodded. “Percival might have mentioned it. I think you have given him ideas. He does not wed Molly until next month, but I would not be surprised if he has not already been eyeing up cradles. Molly will likely be as big as the Queen before next year is out and this one is already all but over.”
It was three days until Christmas and the whole castle was green with holly and ivy. New candles were being made by the hundred and all the city’s craftsmen were busy in their workshops night and day. Conversely to how the season was celebrated in other kingdoms, in Camelot, Christmas was a private family affair. There would be no big feast. Every servant was expected to be home with their family save for four cooks, two serving girls, the King’s servant and the Queen’s maid. Each of them had the privilege of eating the same meal as the royal couple, if not at the same table. Morgause was not exactly sure where she would fit in yet. Only time would tell. All Morgause need worry about for the moment was if Morgana would like her present and if she would forgive her for being so distant.
Leon watched as Morgause smiled to herself, seemingly caught up in her own pleasant thoughts. It warmed his heart to see her finally seeming a little more like herself and gave him hope that she had it in her to do Camelot proud at the tournament.
~*~
Clutching the parcel in her arms, Morgause knocked on Morgana’s door, butterflies stirring in her stomach. They had agreed to exchange gifts on the eve of the third day before Christmas, as was the custom in Morgause’s family, who celebrated the winter solstice festival of Albannui on the same day as the rest of Camelot celebrated the birth of their God. Or God’s son. Morgause could never really work out how that worked, but her own religion included a God who was feminine in the summer and male in the winter, so she could not really hold it against the Christians to have one or two confusing beliefs. Kai and Kaia seemed perfectly rational to her, them being a brother and sister who shared one body and between them kept the lands fertile. She had been praying to them rather a lot of late, but they were well known for being easily distracted and with so few faithful to perform the fertility rituals in their honour, she could not blame them.
Emilie opened the door and, curtseying to Morgause, let her in before leaving for the night. Gwen was helping her brother at the smithy - Uther would be furious if he found out, and would demote her to maid immediately - so they would be all alone all evening and all night. Uther did not visit anymore. Morgause was beginning to wonder if it was young Emilie keeping his bed warm at night. It would not surprise her.
“You are early!” Morgana exclaimed, getting unsteadily to her feet - one hand at her back, the other on her belly. Morgause smiled brightly and, seeing it, Morgana grinned too. “And in good cheer!”
“That I am,” Morgause confirmed, pushing the door closed behind her and whispering a prayer to lock it. She had been practicing discretely at such small things. The babes seemed to like it. Or so Morgana proclaimed.
“Then come here and kiss me, my love,” Morgana bid, her cheeks flushed and her lips red as if she had been biting them all afternoon. Morgause had been away since lunch, training, picking up her present from the trailers and meeting with Sir Leon. Morgana had had nothing to do but embroider whilst she waited. She was making the babes a shawl each - her first ever attempt at such a thing.
Morgause obliged Morgana’s request, putting the parcel on the table and going to her. With a smile, she leant it to kiss her - teasing lightly at first and then opening her mouth to deepen it. Morgana whimpered approvingly and wrapped her arms around Morgause’s neck. She could not wait for the babes to be out so that she could hold her closer.
“So, what do you have for me?” Morgana asked mischievously, eyeing up the large, soft parcel over Morgause’s shoulder. “It is a dress?”
Morgause sighed and shook her head. “How did you guess?”
Morgana squealed and reached out for the parcel. “Is it for now or afterwards? Can I wear it on Albannui? I hope it fits!”
Morgause laughed, handing her the parcel.
“It’s heavy!” she exclaimed, deciding it was best to sit down to open it. “Have you raided the royal treasury to adorn it?”
Morgause chucked and sat down opposite her, resting her hands on Morgana’s knees. She had not felt so joyous in Gods know how long, and had not felt so at home with Morgana for just as long. Silently, she thanked the Gods for giving Morgana the patience to put up with her.
“Just open it,” she commanded softly, laughing when Morgana raised an eyebrow at her. They both knew that it was Morgana who gave the orders.
Morgana gasped when the soft leather wrapping fell back to show a silk of pure white. “It is beautiful!”
“It is customary for women to wear white on Albannui,” Morgause explained, knowing how eager Morgana was to learn of the Old Religion and its customs. “You probably do not want to know why. I thought you might like to feel a part of it. I shall be wearing white too. And Flor and Isolde.”
Morgana narrowed her eyes playfully. “We are all to be married to some God, aren’t we?”
“Unfortunately,” Morgause said with a smile. “But it is only symbolic. Albun is already wedded to the Green Maiden.”
“Well that is reassuring, because no one else can have you,” Morgana said with a wink, making the butterflies in Morgause’s stomach take flight. A little bit of possessiveness was nice, as long as it was all in jest, and she knew that with Morgana, it was.
After a moment, Morgana’s smile turned into a frown of confusion as she realised that the dress was not the only thing in her parcel. Wrapped in the white fabric was a very old, fairly small leather bound book. The cover showed a design that Morgana recognised at the Wilde family emblem. She gasped and ran her fingertips gently over the soft cover.
“It is book of fairytales. Some of them are stories involving the Gods, but most just tell of earthy endeavours. It was my father’s and his father’s before him. He used to read me stories from it when I was young to help me get to sleep and keep me occupied whilst my mother was busy. He took it to Uther once, when I was very young, and the King spared it from the fires that took most of our religious texts. He said that a children’s storybook was of no harm to anyone, so do not fear reading to the babes from it,” Morgause assured her. “I had settled on giving it to Tristan when he was old enough to sire a child of his own,” she brought up both of her hands to Morgana’s stomach, “but I think that my father would have approved of you reading it to them.”
A tear fell from Morgana’s cheek to darken the green silk over the swell of the babes. She did not know what to say. She had been worried that Morgause had been pulling back from her and from the babes especially. She had feared that Morgause had decided that she could not love them after all.
Declining to open the book, she lifted up one of Morgause’s hands from her belly and placed the book in her palm. “If your father read it to you, then if should be you who reads is to our babes, not me. It is you who should soothe them to sleep and read to them when they want a story. If you want to, that is.”
Morgause took the book and bent down to kiss Morgana’s belly. “I would be honoured.”
For the first night in months, Morgause slept through until dawn. After Morgana let her rest for the night, that is.
Note: I just want to thank those of you who are commenting/reviewing. It is really useful as it let me know what aspects you are enjoying most and what you want to see more of. For example, in this chapter, a few requests to see the hair cutting scene saw it expanded from what I had originally written. And on request, there was more backstory and development of the Knights in the last few chapters.