At My Most Beautiful (27/27)
Title: At My Most Beautiful (27/27)
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9,500 for this chapter, 127,618 overall.
Chapter Summary: Morgana is perfectly, blissfully happy. She has everything she could not have even dreamed of having two years before. But with the tournament starting up again, her peace is about to be shattered. Perhaps forever.
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 ageing 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 hapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26a | Chapter 26b |
Chapter 27: Livejournal | Archive of Our Own | Fanfiction.net
At one week old, Finnian made his very first venture out of the fire-warmed cosiness of his mother’s chambers. The expedition had been planned for days. Every eventuality had been thought of. He would not get cold, for he was swaddled in soft woollen blankets. Morgana had fed him before they left, so he would not get hungry. Uther could not discover their outing and enter a rage about it, as he and the other Kings were off hunting to keep themselves entertained whilst the tournament was postponed. Everything had been taken care of.
“And this,” Morgause whispered, continuing her tour of the castle, “is the barracks wing. When you come of age, you will be spending a lot of time here.”
Finnian slept on, blissfully unaware of the running commentary.
“That is, if you choose to be a knight. I know that your mother has her heart set on you following in my footsteps and serving your kingdom, but you need not let expectation rule your choices. You are a boy and a Prince at that. The whole world is open to you. There are Kings here at this tournament that preferred verse to violence when they were Princes. And they have made grand Kings.”
Silence.
“You know, a woman with a more delicate disposition might take offence at your reception,” she muttered with a smile as they turned the corner and arrived at the door to the Commander’s office. Morgause knocked with the toe of her boot.
“Royal inspection,” she called through the door. “Open up.”
Sir Leon opened the door and regarded Morgause curiously. When he noticed the babe in her arms he jumped back to let them enter, keeping his eyes fixed on his Prince.
“Morgause, you have… Is that..?”
“Commander, meet Prince Finnian of Camelot. Finnian, this is your Commander of the Knights of Camelot. One day, he will answer to you,” Morgause added with a slip of a smile.
“God willing,” Leon breathed distractedly, staring at Finnian with eyes wide with wonder. “He is… Oh, he is beautiful, Morgause.”
“He is definitely that,” Morgause smiled down at Finnian, quite besotted. “He is perfect.”
“And the Queen? How is she?”
Morgause’s smile bloomed. “She is a wonder, she really is. She was up on her feet in a few hours and her strength is quickly coming back to her, even with the rigorous demands of this little lamb and his sister.”
Leon chucked. “You ought to be careful calling him that. I think Uther’s after more of a lion.”
“I cannot help it if it is his sister who has the fire in her. I think we will find out why the Pendragons have a dragon crest when she is old enough to strut around the castle.” She looked up at Leon. “Your men will have to watch out.”
“I do not doubt it,” Leon agreed with a chuckle. “Any daughter of Morgana is bound to headstrong, and charming with it too. Those big little-girl eyes will have our Knights in the palm of her hand, even as she is kicking them in the shins for trying to get in her way.”
“And Finnian will be along after her to apologise for his overenthusiastic sister,” Morgause predicted. “They will have the run of the castle between them.”
Finnian shifted and whimpered, his little ears no doubt burning. Morgause patted his back with her hand underneath him and made a soft, sweet hushing sound to soothe him. Leon folded his arms across his chest and leant back against the cupboard to watch her. She was a master at it.
“You look good with a babe in your arms, Morgause,” Leon teased.
Morgause raised her eyebrow at him.
“Do not worry, I am not proposing to find you a husband,” Leon said with what could only be considered to be a devilish smile. “I meant only that this new extension to your role seems to suit you.” He nodded to Finnian. “He and you seem perfectly content together.”
“Morgana says that it is because I held him the moment he was born. He knew my scent first and now it calms him.” She was gazing down again, forever enchanted by him. “She says it so triumphantly, like it proves something.”
Realising what she had said, her cheeks coloured and she looked up at Leon, embarrassed.
Sighing, Leon stroked the beginnings of stubble on his cheeks. “I know there are things that we cannot talk about. Things that I cannot know. If I knew them, I would be forced to make a decision.” At Morgause’s plain worry, he smiled slightly. “That being said, I am happy for you. For both of you. The Queen is happier than any of us have ever seen and she is stronger now, so much that she even stands up to the King. No matter how that came about, I cannot be anything but thankful for it.”
Morgause shifted uncomfortably. “You have always known that I-”
“Of course I have. I grew up a stone’s throw from your father’s house. We have been playmates since we were knee high. I think I knew before you did. I have never judged you for it.” He moved to sit on his desk. “Which is why I have a favour to ask... Emiline has returned to Camelot. Her husband died in the war. On the wrong side, I know, but that is not his fault. I am sure that Emiline would love to hear from you. She barely knows anyone in the city anymore and she has a girl only seven years old.”
“What could I do?” Morgause asked, patting Finnian’s back when he began to stir again. “I have not seen her since…” She shook her head. She had not seen Emiline since the day she had admitted that she was betrothed, lying bare in Morgause’s bed. Morgause had said nothing as she silently dressed and left. What could she say? She certainly could not say ‘do not marry him’ or ‘have me’. “Why would you think she would want help from me?”
“The children will not play with her daughter because of who her father is. I told Emiline that your uncle has children of an age with her girl. Or there about... Maybe a little younger than her, but she does not have the luxury of having alternative playmates. We thought that maybe you could ask Tristan and Eleanor to give her a chance.”
Morgause raised her eyebrow. Tristan and Eleanor would be thrilled to have a seven year old to play with, damn them. Wait, did he say… “We? She is in on this?”
“It seems that my sister wants to see you. I am not the only reason she has returned to Camelot.”
*~*
The sight of Morgana, white gown shrugged off her shoulders to her waist, made Morgause’s heart flutter. Her hair was loose over her bare left shoulder, flowing down in obsidian waves over one breast, leaving the other bare for Isolde to nurse at. Morgana smiled down at her daughter, stroking the fine hair atop her head as she dozed and fed. At first Morgana had found the sensation uncomfortable, even painful, but soon she could think it nothing but bliss. There was nothing like it in creation, being that close to the little lives she had created, carried and born. She only wished that Morgause could share in it, to bind them all closer together.
“Greedy as ever, I see,” Morgause whispered as she approached, careful not to scare mother and daughter form their peaceful trance.
Morgana slowly lifted her gaze, letting it fall first on her son and then her lover with equal adoration. “She takes after you. Must be in the magic of yours she has flowing beside my blood in her veins.”
Morgause laughed softly. “How are my girls?”
“Perfect,” Morgana breathed, turning back to Isolde. “We have read a story about a kelpie from your book and she has been nursing in little bursts almost since you left. What of my Knights?”
Again, Morgause laughed. She bent to kiss mother and babe. “What will you do should he decide to be an academic in the people’s service rather than their defender?”
“Love him just the same, of course,” Morgana assured her with a gentle swat to her arm. “Has he been a good boy?”
“We had a few grumbles, but nothing a bounce and a kiss could not cure. The knights are quite besotted with their Prince - Sir Leon especially. We had to come back, though, once he started fussing for a feed and his mother.”
“And so they should be besotted,” Morgana smiled, adjusting Isolde as she slipped into slumber again. “He and his sister are perfect. Perfectly perfect. Just like you.”
This time, Morgause gave her a lingering kiss, stroking her hand over Morgana’s naked shoulders and licking at her lower lip, wanting her to open up for her, which she did, always soft and eager.
“Here, let us swap,” Morgana murmured against Morgause’s skilful tongue. “She has missed you, as have I. Give her a cuddle then put her down for a nap will you, my love? Then come back and take me in your arms and tell me all about your little adventure beyond our sanctuary.”
“So demanding,” Morgause teased, delicately executing their practiced babe-swap manoeuvre.
“Yet you always comply,” Morgana said with a sly smile. “I have you right where I want you.”
“Oh yes, my love. I am quite at your mercy.” She gently rocked Isolde, lulling her into a deeper sleep. “And her’s. And Finnian’s. And I would not have it any other way.”
Morgana smiled. “Good.”
A little while later they settled on the bed, Morgause sitting back against the carved wooden headboard with Morgana sat between her legs, lying back on her as Finnian nursed.
“I will never get you to myself again, will I?” Morgause teased, running the back her ring finger gently over where Finnian’s mouth met Morgana’s breast.
“Oh, you will. Amina says they will soon take more in one feed instead of all these little ones. I shall have to nurse them less and less often, so I will be all yours whilst they sleep away their full bellies.”
Morgause chuckled and kissed her cheek. “They always have plump little bellies and are still always hungry, especially Isolde. I shall believe it when I see it.”
“Mmmm…” Morgana hummed in agreement, her eyes drifting closed. Being a mother was even more tiring than being heavy with child. The broken sleep was even taking its toll on Morgause, though she would not let Morgana see her weariness.
“I am sorry, my love, but we have only two more days to ourselves before I must go back to the arena,” Morgause said quietly, half hoping Morgana would not hear her. She did not wish to spoil Morgana’s perfect happiness. They were in a blissful bubble, sequestered in a version of the world which could never truly exist.
Morgana stiffened. “But who will mother them and nurse them if the tournament is to start up again? Surely Uther will not expect me to sit with the other Queens so soon?”
“Uther will not hear of you leaving your rooms yet, I am afraid. He sent word. I picked up the note on the way back. But do not worry, I had a guard go up to the aviary to check. I would not take Finnian up to all those birds. Nevertheless, I shall have to leave you from almost dawn ‘till dusk,” Morgause said regretfully.
“Oh… I have not been without you for longer than the couple of hours you spent with Finnian today, and never without you when I had both babes to care for,” Morgana said fearfully, craning her neck to meet Morgause’s eyes pleadingly. “I need you.”
“You have never and will never need me. Mothering has come to you as easily as air into your lungs. You shall be fine. It is me you should fear for. I do not know if my heart can take being parted from the three of you,” Morgause teased, dissipating Morgana’s worry with another kiss to her cheek, “or even whether my heart shall leave the room when I do. It may well abandon me to stay with you, and I will be left an empty shell, unable to do our beautiful kingdom justice.”
“No,” Morgana whispered, taking Morgause’s hand. “Nothing and no one can truly part us now. Not with magic flowing from your body to theirs and a little still to mine too. I could feel you when you were gone today, thrumming under my skin.” She spread out her fingers between Morgause’s. “Can you feel it?”
“For some time now. A little of it has taken root in you. It is beginning to flourish,” Morgause said proudly. “It is in your blood, you know - magic. I knew it from the moment we touched on the island. I do not think you would have to trace your line back far to find a sorceress.”
“I have wondered, about my mother,” Morgana suggested, excited at the possibility. “I know so little about her. It pained my father so to speak of her and Uther barely knew her at all.”
“Not so close, I think,” Morgause weighed. “And not on your mother’s side. At least not only on her side. The Le Fay’s have some magical heritage. There are books with it all written down. We know for certain there were sorceresses in your father’s line as close as four generations back. There might even be a High Priestess, though we are not sure if she is a direct ancestor.”
Morgana’s mouth hung open in surprise. “But… Surely I would know?”
She felt Morgause shrug behind her. “Maybe not. I had to dig deep to find anything on the Le Fay’s. So much was buried when you bent the knee to the Romans - both sides wanted to forget. The memory might be a painful one for your family. Many families were stripped of their magic for allying themselves with the One God and his servants, the Romans. Perhaps your father was not told, to spare the shame.”
“Oh,” Morgana whispered, disheartened. “I am sorry.”
Again, Morgause kissed her cheek. “For what? My magic too is tempered by the Gods’ wrath at my father’s allegiance with Uther. All of us have the crosses of our ancestors to bear, to use a favoured phrase of the King. Our trials give us the opportunity to win back the Gods’ favour, not for our own selfish gains, but for our children’s sake. Part of our unpayable debt.” She stroked Finnian’s head as he slipped into sleep. “That, I think, is our destiny - you and I. We have waves to make in this world, all for the love of Gods and babes.”
ldquo;Any destiny with you in it is one that I will not shy away from, even for a moment,” Morgana promised, turning her head almost painfully sharply to find Morgause’s mouth and kiss her soundly.
“That, my love, I do not doubt.”
And even though Morgana’s eyes could not stay open, she spent the night tasting Morgause’s sweet kisses - wrapped in her arms and longing for the day that they would together bring magic back to her people and land.
~*~
Time passed quickly in the two short days before the tournament resumed. Camelot’s champion could only watch wistfully from the window as her competitors trained in the courtyard and gardens below. Morgana had suggested that she should join them, but Morgause had insisted that she could gain strength enough right there in their quarters. Truthfully, she was too tired to lift a sword. And besides, her father had always warned her against training with competitors. It paid to have them think her a weak woman. They never saw her mortal blow coming. Still, the lack of sleep was going to be a problem. Mystery was no advantage if she dozed off mid-mêlée.
“My yawning Knight,” Morgana jested with a teasing smile, handing Morgause her gorget. The polished metal gleamed almost gold as it caught the dawn light.
By virtue of her lobster-plate armour, Morgause had no trouble reaching up to lay the gorget around her neck. Despite knowing this flexibility very well, Morgana insisted that she should be the one to fasten the slim leather strap that held the gorget together to protect Morgause’s neck. She smiled as Morgause’s ungloved hands pulled them flush together, slipping down her sides and over her hips to rest on her arse. The feeling of the cold, moulded metal of Morgause’s armour pressing into her, along with the gentle pressure of Morgause’s hands on her arse, sent delicious shivers coursing through Morgana’s body. Morgause had not touched her that way since the babes were born. It had only been a week, but Morgana had missed it.
“Not tired enough to stop your wandering hands, I see,” Morgana murmured, her teasing tone shattered by her breathiness.
Morgause smiled that slightly wicked smile of hers which made Morgana’s knees weak. She gently squeezed Morgana’s tender flesh, making her Queen gasp, “Never.”
Before Morgana could regain her breath, Morgause kissed her deeply, making her head swirl in the dark, starry night behind her eyelids.
“I will be waiting for you,” Morgana promised, her eyes half lidded. “Eagerly.”
“As will I await my return to you,” Morgause countered, in her typical charming way. Plucking a lily from the vase beside them, she slid it into Morgana’s hair. “All I need is your love for luck.”
“Then you cannot lose,” Morgana promised, “because my love for you is boundless.”
With one last, lingering kiss, they parted.
~*~
The arena had been stripped for the mêlée, leaving nowhere to hide or take cover. Of the six kingdoms, all but Worcester had a champion in the tournament. With only five of them competing, the arena was excessively large and so, as the crowd was prone to boredom, they were fenced in by a ring of red sand to speed things up. Crossing the line would lead to instant disqualification, as would the use of shields or forbidden weaponry, such as crossbows, any blade smaller than a shortsword or any warhammer with a handle longer than a stallion’s stride. Being held in Camelot, magic was also forbidden, as was the use of flammable powders or other conjurer’s tricks. For Morgause, none of these rules provided a problem. She had never used magic in a fight and she fought with a light longsword that she held in both hands, but could wield in one. With that sword, she was agile in her parries and light on her feet, but could put all her force behind a single deadly blow should she need to. It had served her well in hand-to-hand combat in the war and had almost won her the previous year’s tournament. Gods willing, this time she would be the last one standing.
When her name and kingdom was announced, Morgause raised her great sword in one hand and swept her eyes over the crowd. Everyone was cheering for her, but one amongst the many caught her eye - it was Emiline. She was every bit as beautiful as she had been eight years prior, when Morgause had last set eyes on her. It seemed as though time had passed over her, leaving her as beautiful as she has been at eighteen. Though Morgause had loved her deeply, she had been young and it was lust, not love that had first drawn her to Leon’s flame-haired sister. She felt that old familiar stirring in her belly at the sight of her in the crowd, but it was another that her mind quickly returned too. Not even Emiline could stand up to Morgana in beauty of body or spirit. She was the one who had Morgause’s heart now, and not even flaming red hair and spring-grass eyes could change that.
With a whistle from the King’s own lips, the battle began. And Gods, did it move quick. Lack of sleep or possibly lack of practice was making her slow, and all of the other champions seemed to sense it. Like a pack, they rounded on her, circling as one - an unplanned alliance to dispatch of the tournament leader. They assumed her inferior in hand-to-hand combat due to her small stature and, likely, her sex. That was their mistake.
“Poor little love,” the big man from Mercia taunted. “Wander into the big boys’ game, have you?”
The rest of the men laughed, with Nemeth’s champion lagging a few seconds behind. He was not skilled in their tongue, Morgause guessed. Nemeth to the west had its own language, Nemea, that vaguely resembled the language of the Old Religion more than it did Latin or the common tongue. That alone would not explain his ignorance. Every man, woman and child in Nemeth spoke at least Nemea and the common tongue both. No, Morgause decided, he could not be Nemethian, despite fighting for them. There was at least one sea between where they stood now and the land of his birth.
She shook her head. This was not the time for geographical speculation. She had to strike before her competitors did. If she did not, she was done for.
She turned on her left foot and swung - two handed. He shouldn’t have laughed, even if he did not know what he was laughing at.
The felling of Nemeth’s champion was the spark that lit the fire. He went down from a blow to his helmet, knocking him clean out. It was merciful. Foolish, most likely. Morgause didn’t much care. The suddenness of her actions had given her the crucial second she needed to get out of the men’s trap. She dashed sidewards in the gap Nemeth’s man had left and slashed at the nearest man’s flank. It struck plate. Dancing, she turned lashed again. Damn, she was sleepy. The sword in her hand felt like a blacksmith’s hammer - heavy and cumbersome. But she was a Knight of Camelot. She had been trained to fight with whatever she had to hand, and to do so gracefully.
“For Queen and Camelot,” she whispered inside her helmet, where no one could hear her.
Her prayer invoked, she closed her eyes, took a breath and lunged into the fray.
~*~
As much as Morgana wanted to be there to see Morgause fight in the tournament, she was glad that Uther had forbidden it. Gwen was by her side quietly embroidering, the babes were both finally asleep and her chambers were in absolute, blissful silence. It had become quite the rarity lately.
And then there came a knock upon her door.
“Noooooooo,” Morgana whined pitifully, laying her head on Gwen’s shoulder. “Ignore them and they might go away. I just want to sit quietly with you and watch you stich a flurry of flowers for silly noble women who will pay you a silver piece for it. Its therapeutic watching you rip them off in exchange for pretty things.”
Gwen sighed. “I do wish you had not bartered such an outrageous price. They could find my equal in any home in the lower town and pay not a quarter of what you have them paying me.”
Morgana almost audibly rolled her eyes. “They deserve it. Ignorance is a sin. As is the way they treat their servants and the way they let their husbands work their horses.”
At that Gwen giggled. “You should start a group of freedom fighters who liberate overworked equines.”
Morgana snorted. “Do not think that I will not.”
The knock at the door came again. The insistent sound gave the distinct impression that the knocker would be persistent.
Relenting, Morgana strained to her feet and padded across the cool stone floor, ignoring Gwen’s protests that she should be the one to answer it.
“Who is it?” Morgana asked tersely through the thick wood. It took a fair amount of maturity to not just tell whoever it was to go away. She raised her eyebrow when the mystery knocker stifled a laugh, badly. So it was a woman then. At least it was not Uther.
The mystery knocker cleared her throat and introduced herself. “I believe my full title is the Princess Mithian, Heir to the Throne of Nemeth.”
Morgana’s eyes widened in panic and she scrambled to open the door. She was hardly dressed to receive such visitors. All she wore was a plain green cotton gown which she knew would look poor beside Mithian, who was always in the latest fashions and the richest materials. It was not that she was fickle, but Camelot had standards and it was up to her to keep to them.
“Princess,” she greeted her immaculately presented guest, ushering her in and closing the door behind her. “I had thought that you would have been at the tournament, cheering on your kingdom’s champion.”
Mithian frowned in obvious annoyance. “Your champion knocked him out in less than a minute. It seems that his talents lie in bedding and not in battle.”
Gwen coughed and rose, announcing her presence. “Your Highnesses.”
“Oh, there is no need for you to leave,” Mithian assured her. “I am the one interrupting your tranquillity.”
Gwen’s smile said plainly that she thought that she should leave. She kept enough of the Queen’s secrets, she did not need to add those of foreign royalty to her load. “If Your Highness will allow it, I will go down and catch a little of the tournament. I should like to see the mêlée.”
All Morgana could do was nod, worried at being left alone with the babes. She had always had Gwen or Morgause there to help her. She only had so many hands and if both were to cry, as one crying inevitably caused. “If you are sure…”
“I am, Your Highness. Be sure to send a servant if you require me.” And with that Gwen left, touching Morgana’s arm as she passed her. Morgana could not help but feel sad at her loss. She had been enjoying their time together, even if it had been in silence.
“I must apologise,” Mithian said as the door closed to leave them alone. “I had not thought to disrupt your morning.”
Morgana turned back to her and forced a smile. “You are not disrupting. I am happy to have a visitor.”
Mithian’s mischievous smile made an instant appearance. “Good, because your husband is a bore and a flirt, and the other women would have been unbearable if I had stayed much longer without a champion in today’s test. You are much more preferable company. And besides, I have yet to see these delightful babes of yours. Where are they?”
Morgana beamed. Just the mention of her children - her children! - made her heart leap with glee. “They are asleep, but if we are quiet, you can have a peak.”
She led Mithian over to the wooden cribs - one a gift from Morgause and the other from Gwen. To her surprise, Mithian let out a sweet sigh and gazed down at Isolde almost longingly.
“Oh Morgana, they are beautiful.”
Pride filled Morgana’s heart. She gave Mithian a curious smile. “I would not have thought you to be the type of woman to coo over babes.”
“That I am not,” Mithian confirmed, taken with the way Isolde’s belly moved up and down with each breath. “At least, I did not used to be. Now I cannot help but see the future in their tiny little fingers and button noses. Not my future, not any time soon anyway, but our land’s future. We have a great responsibility, not just to our line but to our people. A monarch who dies without an heir is dooming their kingdom to war. I am starting to understand why the notion obsesses men so.” She ran her middle finger over the embroidered ‘I’ on Isolde’s blanket. “All of our kingdoms rely on the children we leave behind. It is for them to do what we could not. To better our legacy.”
Morgana had been thinking much the same thing. “I will admit that hope that Finnian will make a more just King than his father.” And that he will treat his wife with more respect, she added to herself.
“We must all hope that our children will overcome our faults,” Mithian agreed, taking Morgana’s arm to assure her that she would not judge Morgana on what she said. They were quite in agreement when it came to Uther’s failings. It almost made Mithian wish to steal Morgana away in the night and take her far away from her husband’s reach. Alas, that too would bring war. “But enough of this sombre talk. Tell me about them. You must be quite exhausted with twins to care for.”
“It is no bother at all,” Morgana said with a serene smile, reaching down to gently stroke Isolde’s warm cheek. “I cannot imagine how I ever lived without them.”
“You are lucky to have such an attentive lady-in-waiting. I hear that she was your childhood maid? I myself had such a connection once. Lucy. She was a year older than me and taught me every bit of mischief that I know. The sickness took her three winters back.” Mithian’s gaze had drifted, glinting with unshed tears. “I never had a sister by blood, but she was my sister in all the ways that matter. Maybe I would feel different about marriage and children if I knew that she would be by my side. You have Gwen for that. I imagine she is a great help.” As suddenly as it had appeared, Mithian’s sorrow was gone and she was looking at Morgana in a way that pleaded for her not to dwell on it.
“Oh, she is. I could not do this without her and Morgause. Gwen makes sure that I am never without, bringing everything I need before I have even discovered that I need it. She was there to hold my hand through it all, always whispering words of comfort. She has this way of making me feel safe as only a little girl ignorant of the world’s horrors can feel. I would do anything within my power to give her the happiness she deserves. She insists that she is perfectly content, even more so now that she has the babes to care for too. I only hope that she continues to find happiness here. And Morgause…” Her smile became blissful as thought of her Knight. “I do not know how I would be able to juggle Isolde and Finnian without her. When one cries so does the other, but Finnian always quiets the moment she picks him up. He is utterly content in her arms.”
“Like mother, like son,” Mithian commented with a reassuring smile.
The smile did nothing to quell the panic that rose in Morgana at the Princess’ words. She had already alluded the Queen’s relationship with her Knight. A second mention was enough to send ice through Morgana’s belly.
Seeing Morgana’s panic, Mithian said, “Yours is a secret that I am happy to keep. I promise that I will never tell a soul. You deserve happiness and there is no shame in seeking it with Morgause. In the last year, Camelot has become easier and easier to call friend. I imagine that is down in no small part to you, Your Highness. With you to guide Uther’s hand, Nemeth would be very happy to call Camelot her ally. In fact, I am having a treaty drawn up that will bind our two kingdoms together in friendship, with each promising to help the other in her time of need. We can give you food and passage through our land to trade. And I am offering the treaty to you.”
Morgana was speechless. “I… Why?”
“Because Uther will not live forever and you have born his heir. As Queen and mother to the next King, you will greatly influence the shaping of this kingdom’s future. My father agrees with me that you would make a formidable and valuable ally.” Mithian smiled playfully again. “You could say that I was sent here to charm you. How have I done?”
“Well,” Morgana conceded.
“My father thought that we might be quite alike, you and I. He was right.”
Morgana smiled. If what little she had learnt about Mithian was true, then she could not disagree.
~*~
When Morgause returned, Morgana was asleep. It was not long past midday, but the babes were napping again and Morgana’s body had insisted that she join them. She was woken by a cool hand resting on her cheek and a soft, sideways kiss. A whimper sounded from her throat as she wakened; her mind fuzzy and confused.
Morgause kissed her again as she roused, and this time she was greeted with a sleepy response.
“I can leave you to sleep, if you would like,” Morgause whispered, brushing back a lock of hair from Morgana’s forehead.
“No,” Morgana protested. Her eyes were still closed but her mind was beginning to resolve itself into some semblance of awareness. “No, I am awake.” Her eyes fluttered open, narrowing against the too bright sun. “What time of the day is it?”
“A little after noon,” Morgause said after a moment’s thought. “The mêlée is not a long event. Not with only five competitors.”
As if just then remembering why Morgause had been parted from her, Morgana jolted into full wakefulness, sat up and looked expectantly at Morgause. “And?”
There was that wicked smile again. “I won.”
A squeal of delight erupted from between Morgana’s lips, followed by a long pause of nervous silence as both women listened for cries. None came. They must have slept through it.
“Oh, Morgause,” Morgana gushed, wrapping her arms around Morgause’s neck. “My victorious champion. How happy you have made me.”
Morgause was grinning as she got up from her crouch and sat on the bed, Morgana’s arms still looped around her neck. “And all of it was for you.”
Morgana giggled and tugged at her, bringing her forward for a kiss that Morgause immediately took charge of, pressing Morgana down into the pillows and sliding atop her. Morgana whimpered and buried her hands in Morgause’s hair, excitement bubbling in her stomach. She wondered giddily if Morgause was still lusty from the battle and how far this new boldness would take them. Again, she whimpered, shivering in anticipation as she deliberately ignored the little voice telling her that she was not ready for this, not yet.
“Mmmmm,” Morgause moaned against her lips, opening her dark eyes and locking them with Morgana’s. “How about a ride? Do you feel up to that? Just you and me, and we could take it slow. Gwen can watch the babes for a few hours. What do you think?”
Morgana could not really think much of anything with Morgause’s weight on her and the warmth of her Knight’s breath on her damp lips. She nodded and craned her neck up to resume their kiss. After a moment, Morgause pulled out of her reach once more.
“You could sit behind me and we could take Nightmare out to look out over the Queen’s Valley. I have something special to ask you, and I want the setting to be perfect.”
Light headed, Morgana struggled for breath. If she had not been lying down, her knees would have given way and she would have swooned. Did she really mean…
“Yes,” she heard herself saying, “yes”.
They rode tandem out of the castle’s rear drawbridge, Morgana clinging to Morgause as the world whooshed by them. She must have fallen asleep, because the journey seemed to take no time at all before they were dismounting at the top of the peak that she and Morgause had ridden out to on their first meeting.
“My Queen,” Morgause said as she bowed to Morgana, before lifting her effortlessly off of the horse, her hands at Morgana’s waist, twirling her downwards. They were kissing before Morgana’s feet had touched the ground, Morgause’s strong hands pulling her close and supporting her weight as she again went dizzy from love.
“Gods,” Morgana murmured, unable to command her voice any louder.
Morgause smiled and gave her one last sweet kiss in the red-gold light. Then she fell to her knees as she had done on the pebbly beach on the island off Mermering, and reached up to take Morgana’s pale, trembling hand. They made the perfect picture of a Knight kneeling in supplication before her Queen.
“My love, my Queen,” Morgause began. “I am naught but a simple Knight who comes to you on bended knee, unworthy to stand equal beside you. It is still written in this Kingdom’s laws that I am forbidden to even look at you, though such a law has not been enforced for hundreds of years. For that lacking on the part of my brothers, I am eternally thankful, for if I had never been granted the honour to look upon you, I would never have had the privilege to look upon a goddess. But there is one more honour that the Gods have made me foolish enough to ask. Morgana, my love, I humbly ask if you would do me the honour of-”
With a start, Morgana awoke. The room glowed with the late afternoon light and Gwen was before her, hands still on Morgana’s shoulders from shaking her awake.
“Come, my lady, get dressed. We need to leave,” Gwen insisted, pulling her to her feet from where she lay atop the covers. The babes were crying. Finnian was screaming.
“What…” A cold shiver ran over Morgana’s skin and she suddenly felt the loss of something that had been keeping her warm. Panic overtook her and she looked to Gwen for answers. “What is wrong? What has happened?”
Gwen’s skin was ash pale, drained of colour. “It is Morgause, my lady. I am afraid that she has been very badly hurt.”
~*~
She ran to Gaius’ chambers, wearing only a shawl over her shift. When they reached the crescent-topped door that led into the physician’s main room, it was already open and the space inside was heaving with Knights.
Sir Leon spotted Morgana the moment she entered and ran to intercept her.
“Come now, Your Highness. Let us give Gaius room to work.” His arm stopped her progress easily and he quickly moved to block her view of whatever was happening in the middle of the room. Whatever it was, he did not want her to see it.
“What has happened?” Morgana cried, desperate to see around him, to break free of his grasp. She could see a discarded bandage on the floor and by the Gods was it bloodied.
“Morgause was injured in the mêlée. The Mercian champion had a banned weapon that he had concealed up his sleeve. She had no time to react,” Sir Leon told her gravely, looking down into her eyes as he would with a child, making sure that she understood.
“What do you mean ‘injured’? How?” Tears flooded down Morgana’s cheeks, sobs distorting her pleas.
Leon looked back over his shoulder, as if looking to his fallen sister for an answer. He sighed and looked back to Morgana, his hands steadfast on her arms.
“He had a pocket knife, the kind that thieves use on the streets. It seems that he…” He paused. He could not tell her. He could not tell his Queen - this trembling woman - what that Mercian scum had tried to do to the Knight that he knew she loved. But he must. No one else would. Gaius was too much Uther’s creature to ever tell a woman the ugly truth. “It seems that he used it to cut the strap of her gorget. Do you know what that is?”
Morgana nodded, her lips trembling. She had fastened it that morning. “Around her neck.”
“Yes,” Leon confirmed. “He cut the strap and it fell away when Morgause broke free from his grasp. When he lunged again, he aimed the knife at her throat.”
Bile rose in Morgana’s mouth and she had to fight not let it out. He… Her Morgause… He had… A dream she had once had flashed before her eyes - blood dripping down the hilt of Morgause’s sword as it fell from her lifeless grip.
“No,” she whispered. It could not be. If what she had seen was true then that would mean…
Leon continued. “The King saw the flash of metal in the Mercian’s hand and vaulted onto the battlefield. He pulled the Mercian off Morgause and drove his sword through the slit in his visor. Only when the man was dead did the King fully realise how far the Mercian had gotten in his plan.”
Morgana’s mouth hung aghast and unbelieving, fierce love for her King filling her heart.
“He ripped a strip from his cape and tied it around her neck, before lifting her and carrying her all the way here. No one dared try to stop him,” Leon finished, finally turning so that Morgana could see the flurry activity surrounding the fallen Knight, shrouding her from view.
As if noticing her presence for the first time, Gaius left the group of men surrounding Morgause and crossed the room to address his Queen. Morgana broke out of Leon’s hold and took a step towards the physician.
“Your Highness,” he greeted, forgetting to bow his head. “Are you aware of what has happened?”
Morgana nodded, biting her lip. “How is she?”
“We have done all we can. Now all that is left to do is wait and pray.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You must thank God for your husband. Had he not intervened, she would surely be dead. As it is, there is some hope that she might survive. The King’s interruption prevented the knife from cutting too deep. She has lost a lot of blood but the main vessels in her neck were untouched and the knife did not slit her airway. Amina and I have cleaned and stitched inside, and closed the wound. We have given her something to make her sleep and will set her up in the side room where we can keep watch over her.”
Relief flooded into Morgana’s lungs, finally letting her breathe. “Can I see her?”
“Once we have moved her, you can sit by her bed, should you wish. Though, I do not think it wise or necessary. I am sure that one of her brothers would do to keep watch over your guard.” He frowned. “I must impress upon you, Your Highness, that the chance of her surviving the night is slim.”
“But there is a chance?” Morgana asked.
Gaius nodded.
Then she would never leave me, Morgana thought certainly. Not her Morgause - her brave, beautiful Knight.
“There is something else,” Gaius said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out Morgause’s Le Fay green pendant, the one that Morgana had given to her in Mermering. He dropped it into Morgana’s outstretched hand. “A nick on the blade caught on this chain. Along with Uther, it saved her life.”
~*~
Sitting there in that little room, surrounded by Morgause’s family, Morgana felt quite alone. No one had dared speak to her and she did not dare speak either, for fear of them feeling that she did not belong. To speak would be to intrude, even more when one of the babes made a noise and she flushed crimson until she had soothed them. She had to be there, though, she was sure of that. Morgause had earlier joked than if she left Morgana and the babes, her heart might not leave with her. Morgana was sure that if she were to leave and anything happened to Morgause, her heart would shatter and all love and life be gone from her.
“May I sit with you?” Rivalen asked, bowing his head to her but showing no other signs of formality. At her nod, he sat on the seat beside her. “May I?”
Morgana followed his gaze to Finnian wriggling in his basket. A part of her was startled at him asking. To her, he was as much kin to her babes as her aunt was. For in her mind, they were Morgause’s. Her magic in their veins made it so. And the kin of that magic was in Rivalen too. But he could not know that and so naturally he would ask, rather than just take her son. “Of course.”
He smiled in thanks and lifted the babe into his arms with the practiced gentleness of a loving father. It made Morgana smile, despite the pain in her heart.
“He is one fine lad,” Rivalen complimented, brushing a finger over Finnian’s blond hair.
Privately, Morgana thought he looked like Morgause, though she would never say it aloud. The Gods could not be that kind.
“And his sister is just as bonny,” he continued, nodding with a smile to Isolde, who slept peacefully in Morgana’s arms.
“They are both them blessings,” Morgana agreed. “Both perfect.”
“I can feel it,” he added a moment later. “Could from across the room.” He put his hand on Finnian’s belly, just as Morgause did. Morgana had not known why, but now she could guess - it was to better feel the magic inside the babes. “Her magic is strong in them. Stronger than mine is in my two, even now they are older and can wield more power.”
Morgana found herself needing to check that the door to Gaius’ study was closed before she could breathe again.
He spoke again, in a whisper this time. “Are they…”
Morgana hung her head. “No, not by blood. Though I wish they were.” When she looked back to Rivalen, there were tears in her eyes. “She says that it is not possible, not without incurring the wrath of the Gods and an price we could never afford. They have her magic and she loves them - that is good enough for me to think them hers.”
“Me too.”
Morgana looked up to see Ellie stood before her, her eyes and cheeks pink from crying. With a gentleness only children possess, she bent down to kiss Finnian, then Isolde, and then leant up to kiss Morgana’s cheek.
“You brought them here to make her stronger,” Ellie said with wide, serious eyes that were red from crying.
“Yes,” Morgana admitted, fearful of seeming ignorant and foolish to those for whom magic and its workings were as familiar as the movement of water under a boat was to her.
Ellie smiled. “It‘s working.”
“What are they called?” Tristan asked, slowly making his way towards them, a fraying blanket clutched in his hands. Flor looked relieved that they had found a distraction, and Morgana did her best to entertain them. “Aunt Morgause said that we could come and visit them once they were bigger, but then…”
“Your father has Finnian and this,” she gazed down at Isolde and smiled softly, adjusting her blanket so that the Wilde children could see her better, “is his big sister, Isolde.”
Tristan clasped his hands and grinned, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. “That’s a pretty name.”
Ellie agreed. “Good for a princess.”
“Especially for a princess,” Tristan put in, vowing to outdo his sister in her affections.
When a gentle knock came at the door, Tristan ran off to answer it - standing up on his tiptoes to twist the big round doorknob. With great effort, he pulled the door open a crack and pressed his face up against the gap. What he saw made him jump back and gasp, his little mouth hanging comically open and his eyes bulging in awe and surprise.
Sir Leon pushed the door open the rest of the way and crept inside. With a Knightly grace that bewitched the young Wilde boy, he bowed to his Queen.
“Your Highness,” he said by way of greeting. “My brothers and I wished for news. I apologise for intruding.”
With his formalities complete, he raised his head and bowed to Rivalen, then to Flor.
“You’re a Knight,” Tristan mouthed silently, quite unable to speak in the presence of one of his idols. When Leon ruffled his hair, he almost fainted.
ldquo;How is she?” Leon asked the room at large, taking the seat on the other side of Morgana when she offered it to him.
“Better than before,” Ellie told him confidently, before her mother called her and Tristan away.
“Much the same,” Morgana said, her spirits dropping. “Though Eleanor says that she is stronger, and I believe her.”
Ellie smiled brightly at her from across the room, sat on her mother’s knee. Morgana had just made a friend for life.
“Children often have a sense of these things that were cannot fathom. We should be hopeful then,” Leon agreed, though his expression was still grave. Morgana had almost forgotten the danger that Morgause was in. Surrounded by the warmth of the Wildes and buoyed by the feel of Morgause’s magic flowing between them, she was becoming more and more certain that it was only a matter of time until Morgause returned to them.
“Could I have a moment alone with you, Your Highness? There are some matters of state which I wish to discuss with you.” When Morgana looked at Flor and Rivalen, upset at the thought of throwing them from their kin’s sickroom, he added, “We can talk outside. Gaius has gone to fetch supplies from his cold stores in the cellars.”
Reluctantly, Morgana left Isolde in Flor’s capable care and followed Leon from the room.
~*~
“What is wrong?” she asked when the door was shut behind her and she was certain that Gaius was not lurking in some dark corner the way that men of his age so oft seemed to do. “Is it trouble with Mercia?”
“No,” Sir Leon dismissed, waving his hand. “I only said that to get you alone. They are denying any knowledge of the attack and we are forced to believe them unless we turn up evidence to the contrary. I have my best men on it. No, what I wanted to talk to you of is more… personal.”
He took her hand and pressed something warm into her palm.
“A ring?” A gold ring.
“Look at the inscription inside,” he pressed, looking over his shoulder to make sure that the old man had not yet returned.
A strange feeling bubbled in Morgana’s stomach as she took the ring over to the fire for light. Her breath caught at the inscription, and her blood ran cold with fear. The runes were those of the Old Religion, and she could barely make them out.
My dearest Queen, my heart belongs to you. M.
“I…” Morgana’s mouth was dry and she could not speak. The ring was from Morgause and meant for her. She only hoped that Leon could not read the runes and would not be so quick to judge a sorceress as many in Camelot were.
“It was strung on her pendant. I took it before anyone else could see it,” Leon said, joining her at the fire. “I knew that it would be safe with you.”
“Thank you, Commander.” She took his hand from where it rested on the mantelpiece and kissed it. “I am ever in your debt.”
~*~
Rivalen had insisted that it should be him and not Morgana who should leave when it came time for the babes to feed. Flor and her children made to leave with him, but Morgana bid for her to stay. Though the thought of nursing the babes in front of anyone but Morgause and Gwen made her blush, she wished to talk to another mother. One who was not as intimidating as Amina.
They sat side by side at Morgause’s head, Flor holding Finnian who had for once had his fill first.
“I miss it,” Flor confided. “Do not get me wrong, you will soon be sick of the inconvenience of it and once they start to teethe… Well, I will let you find out. But that connection is something that no one but a mother and her nursing babe will ever know. We are lucky.”
“Yes,” Morgana agreed, “I do believe that we are. I cannot imagine not sharing this with them, now that I have it.”
“Ellie prays often for a little sister to dote on,” Flor said wistfully. “I still hope that the Gods will bless Rivalen and I again.”
“Gods willing,” Morgana wished, flushed with momentary excitement at knowing how to respond. She laid down a sleeping Isolde in her cot and fastened up her dress.
“I see that our Morgause has been schooling you in the old ways,” Flor said, her gaze drifting to Morgause’s still face. “You can have no idea how happy you have made her. Even the children have noticed it, and she always put on a smile whenever they were around.”
Morgana blushed and took Morgana’s hand, turning to gaze longingly at Morgause, before her paleness made her look away. “It can be nothing to how happy she has made me.”
“Morgause’s grandmother used to say that where love goes, power follows. I think that means that she loves you and these little babes very much. And I believe that you love her too, no matter how impossible the situation is that you find yourselves in. All things considered, I think that makes you family - our family. That means that once Morgause is fit again, we must have you over for one of our famous Wilde family dinners.” Remembering who she was speaking to, she dropped Morgana’s gaze and added, “If it would please you, Your Highness.”
“I…” Morgana’s blush deepened. “I would like that very much.”
The hand in hers twitched, returning her grip.
“As would I.”
“Morgause!” she gasped, jumping from her chair to the side of Morgause’s bed. “You’re awake!”
Flor laid Finnian beside his sister and ran to the door, opening it a crack and calling, “Rivalen, come quick! And bring the children!” She ran back to Morgause’s bedside and pinched her knee through the blankets. “You gave us quite the fright there, Euraid-Geneth.”
“Keeping you on your toes, Florrie.”
Morgause’s eyes opened slowly, the effort bringing a sound half way between a sigh and a whimper from between her pale lips.
“I…” Her mouth was dry and her throat red-raw. She swallowed and licked her lips, hoisting herself up until she was almost sitting. “I asked you a question.”
“Somehow, I do not think she means me,” Flor murmured with a smile, stepping back. She looked back to the door as it opened, admitting Gwen, Amina, Rivalen and the children. She put her finger to her lips to bid them to stay quiet.
“You - you did?” Morgana stuttered, sitting on the bed, hip to hip with her miracle of a Knight.
Morgause nodded faintly, grasping Morgana’s hand with all of her strength. “You disappeared before I got my answer. What will it be, Your Highness? Will you grant me this honour? ”
Tears poured down Morgana’s cheeks. She brought Morgause’s hand up to her lips and kissed her palm, laughing. “What do you think, my brave and foolish Knight?”
A smile tugged on Morgause’s lips and she coughed, the sound oddly hollow. “Is that a yes?”
Morgana showed her the ring, which she had already slid onto her right index finger, where the High Priestesses of old had worn their exchanged tokens of devotion.
“Yes,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss her and not caring who saw. “By the Gods, yes.”
And their betrothal kiss, just like their first, tasted of the salt of Morgana’s tears and the promise of what was to come.
THE END
A/N: So, this epic of a fic has finally come to an end. It has been a bit of a battle for me, I won’t lie. As the comments dwindled and my work life got busier and busier, writing this fic was pushed lower and lower on my list of priorities. It would have been so easy to let it go. But there was one problem. Every time my eyes closed and night or my mind wondered on the bus, it always went to this world and these characters. I couldn’t let them go, even if I wanted too. And there is so much more to come for them. That being said, I need a break and this is the end for now. There will be a sequel but I’m not sure exactly when that will begin being written. Be assured though, that its already all up there in my head. And there will be a mini!fic in between, which will follow on directly from the last scene of At My Most Beautiful.
For now though, I want to thank everyone who has read this labour of love - whether you’ve been reading from the beginning back in early 2011 or whether you’ve read it all in one go now. I want to thank you for taking a chance on this ridiculously long fic which is now more of a novel than I could have ever imagined at the beginning. So thank you.
Though I am a wee bit shallow and it’s not all about thanking you. I would really appreciate it if you could take the time to leave me some of your own thoughts on Morgana and Morgause, and their journey together. As I said, writing something on this scale is completely new to me. I would love to hear your thoughts.