Merlin; Arthur/Morgana; this isn't how it is supposed to happen
Title: this isn't how it is supposed to happen
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Morgana
Rating: G
Words 850
Summary: Arthur can't keep all of his promises. Morgana doesn't bother making them.
Notes: First time writing for this fandom and it's un-beta'd (A response to a challenge that needed to be posted, I am going away and didn’t know when I would get a chance.) I would appreciate comments and constructive criticism. The prompt was Queen Morgana from herchampion. I enjoyed writing this mainly because I ship this pairing HARD in all versions ♥ Time difference between the italic text and the plain text, I kind of hope that is obvious but just to be sure :)
this isn't how it is supposed to happen
Camelot is swathed in darkness, so much darkness, too much; inescapable. Morgana doesn’t know if she will ever be able find the light, will Camelot be illuminated? Can it be? Does she know what that means? She thinks of the boy, his eyes of innocence, she thinks of Uther and the blood on his hands.
She cannot sleep, she will only dream. So instead she sits in the chair that feels more uncomfortable than it did before and stares out at a Camelot that will never be the same. Nobody knows it. Only her. She sighs and closes her eyes to the cool night breeze.
This is how Arthur finds her when he returns. Alone, suffocated by the darkness.
"Morgana…" His voice is smooth and he places his candle on the dresser. He wants to rescue her.
~~~
They are enemies now, whatever that means. Who of them has changed? She is still Morgana and he Arthur but they can no longer meet in the middle. He hears of her exploits, is pressured to act against her, he rarely sees her and he forgets the truth in her face but not now.
She stands firm in the clearing amongst the trees, she is both all he can see and a mirage in the leaves. Her cloak is green, hanging gracefully off of her shoulders with the hood down so her hair spills out. The same, it’s the same. But different, he can’t, doesn’t want to understand.
She is their leader, the druids, the old religion, of magic and earth. They whisper of her in Camelot, old memories replaced by hearsay, she is a witch, a seer, a fairy. Le Fay. It suits her. They say she is not of this world. He knows her, who she is, he can see the history in the eyes. She fights, always, for what she thinks is right. Regardless of whatever magics she may possess that is her true crusade.
It is the same. It is different.
~~~
‘Morgana.’ She looks up at him, eyes weary and questioning. ‘He is safe with his people now.’
He moves to stand at the window and she joins him. Close but not too close, forearms brushing lightly against each other’s skin.
‘Is he safe? Really? Are any of them safe? It is always the same with Uther.’
‘It will be different. One day.’ He believes it with all of his heart. Camelot will be changed under his hand and hers. He pulls her to him, cheek to chest, hands in hair.
‘When, when will it be different? When?’ He feels her hot, angry tears as she pushes further into his chest, fingers clawing at his back.
He pulls her back so he can look at her face, tracked with tears and glowing in the moonlight.
‘When I am King, Morgana. I will not let this happen. We will all be free.’
He promises.
~~~
She thinks this is all simple, doesn’t she? His stomach churns in anger. Why doesn’t she understand what he has to do? He needs to make everything black and white, it cannot be grey. Grey is confusing, complex, difficult. A blanket of darkness but not quite dark. The people of Camelot need him to make the distinction. For the greater good, he tells himself, and he only doubts it for a second as she stands against him in the forest.
She does not lead her people with words and false promises. She does not promise them anything, no riches or power. She does not even promise them freedom for she does not know if they can obtain it. Still they follow her. She guides them with the hum of magic and the sway of her body. She is in tune with the world. She knows she may never succeed but she will not give in.
They meet in the clearing to discuss the terms of the treaty. She disputes the clause that prevents her people from roaming the lands. All will be free? She laughs. Not even free to move.
A young man whispers in her ear then fixes Arthur with a stare. He is full of fire and fight. And Arthur recognizes him.
Arthur cannot give her what she wants.
~~~
His lips crash into hers. Hot and deep, she responds in kind. Lips over lips, tongue and teeth. And need. Hands gliding over silk and cotton.
He breaks the kiss, her tears have dampened his face, ‘I promise you Morgana. All will be free.’ He reaches out to touch her face and his fingers are wet too.
‘And you will be my Queen.’
~~~
She is power and energy. This wasn’t how it should have happened.
She dismisses the treaty, we will not bow to the smoke and mirrors you offer in place of freedom.
She is his opposite. A counter-point. She is murky, compelling, darkness threatening to engulf his clarity and glow.
She does not believe in what he represents, she has no time for his Camelot. Somewhere inside of him he knows it will not last. It is merely a trick of the light and he would fall with it. Fall to her.
Because she was a Queen.
But she was not his.
~~~
"I believe you." She responds.
finis.
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Morgana
Rating: G
Words 850
Summary: Arthur can't keep all of his promises. Morgana doesn't bother making them.
Notes: First time writing for this fandom and it's un-beta'd (A response to a challenge that needed to be posted, I am going away and didn’t know when I would get a chance.) I would appreciate comments and constructive criticism. The prompt was Queen Morgana from herchampion. I enjoyed writing this mainly because I ship this pairing HARD in all versions ♥ Time difference between the italic text and the plain text, I kind of hope that is obvious but just to be sure :)
this isn't how it is supposed to happen
Camelot is swathed in darkness, so much darkness, too much; inescapable. Morgana doesn’t know if she will ever be able find the light, will Camelot be illuminated? Can it be? Does she know what that means? She thinks of the boy, his eyes of innocence, she thinks of Uther and the blood on his hands.
She cannot sleep, she will only dream. So instead she sits in the chair that feels more uncomfortable than it did before and stares out at a Camelot that will never be the same. Nobody knows it. Only her. She sighs and closes her eyes to the cool night breeze.
This is how Arthur finds her when he returns. Alone, suffocated by the darkness.
"Morgana…" His voice is smooth and he places his candle on the dresser. He wants to rescue her.
~~~
They are enemies now, whatever that means. Who of them has changed? She is still Morgana and he Arthur but they can no longer meet in the middle. He hears of her exploits, is pressured to act against her, he rarely sees her and he forgets the truth in her face but not now.
She stands firm in the clearing amongst the trees, she is both all he can see and a mirage in the leaves. Her cloak is green, hanging gracefully off of her shoulders with the hood down so her hair spills out. The same, it’s the same. But different, he can’t, doesn’t want to understand.
She is their leader, the druids, the old religion, of magic and earth. They whisper of her in Camelot, old memories replaced by hearsay, she is a witch, a seer, a fairy. Le Fay. It suits her. They say she is not of this world. He knows her, who she is, he can see the history in the eyes. She fights, always, for what she thinks is right. Regardless of whatever magics she may possess that is her true crusade.
It is the same. It is different.
~~~
‘Morgana.’ She looks up at him, eyes weary and questioning. ‘He is safe with his people now.’
He moves to stand at the window and she joins him. Close but not too close, forearms brushing lightly against each other’s skin.
‘Is he safe? Really? Are any of them safe? It is always the same with Uther.’
‘It will be different. One day.’ He believes it with all of his heart. Camelot will be changed under his hand and hers. He pulls her to him, cheek to chest, hands in hair.
‘When, when will it be different? When?’ He feels her hot, angry tears as she pushes further into his chest, fingers clawing at his back.
He pulls her back so he can look at her face, tracked with tears and glowing in the moonlight.
‘When I am King, Morgana. I will not let this happen. We will all be free.’
He promises.
~~~
She thinks this is all simple, doesn’t she? His stomach churns in anger. Why doesn’t she understand what he has to do? He needs to make everything black and white, it cannot be grey. Grey is confusing, complex, difficult. A blanket of darkness but not quite dark. The people of Camelot need him to make the distinction. For the greater good, he tells himself, and he only doubts it for a second as she stands against him in the forest.
She does not lead her people with words and false promises. She does not promise them anything, no riches or power. She does not even promise them freedom for she does not know if they can obtain it. Still they follow her. She guides them with the hum of magic and the sway of her body. She is in tune with the world. She knows she may never succeed but she will not give in.
They meet in the clearing to discuss the terms of the treaty. She disputes the clause that prevents her people from roaming the lands. All will be free? She laughs. Not even free to move.
A young man whispers in her ear then fixes Arthur with a stare. He is full of fire and fight. And Arthur recognizes him.
Arthur cannot give her what she wants.
~~~
His lips crash into hers. Hot and deep, she responds in kind. Lips over lips, tongue and teeth. And need. Hands gliding over silk and cotton.
He breaks the kiss, her tears have dampened his face, ‘I promise you Morgana. All will be free.’ He reaches out to touch her face and his fingers are wet too.
‘And you will be my Queen.’
~~~
She is power and energy. This wasn’t how it should have happened.
She dismisses the treaty, we will not bow to the smoke and mirrors you offer in place of freedom.
She is his opposite. A counter-point. She is murky, compelling, darkness threatening to engulf his clarity and glow.
She does not believe in what he represents, she has no time for his Camelot. Somewhere inside of him he knows it will not last. It is merely a trick of the light and he would fall with it. Fall to her.
Because she was a Queen.
But she was not his.
~~~
"I believe you." She responds.
finis.