"I come with settings"
I have yet to do any Christmas shopping. How much do I fail at life! But I did buy myself a mini!computer, pretty much for the sole purpose of writing fic. Because I am that weird. I am really very enamoured with its mininess and its cuteness and its ability to be smaller than my actual notebook. I used it on the train this morning and was most gleeful to see the man sitting next to me reading my pr0n with some not small amount of interest (read: complete bemusement/confusion).
In other news: this is quite possibly the most awesome Merlin pimpspam IN THE UNIVERSE.
And I wrote two fics today. TWO. And I haven't even left work yet. And that doesn't include the next part of the Epic I am currently working on which I did on the train. (See above: Stranger Enjoys Reading Hot Old Man Sex on Commuter Train). What has Merlin done to me?
It was comment fic. cienna thought it should be shared. And so I present:
Title: This Day, As Any Other
Rating: PG
Words: 1,003
Summary: Morgana/Gwen. Hint of Arthur/Merlin. Another Christmas fic, because I'm cheesy like that.
.This Day, As Any Other.
The castle was cold and dark and drafty and Morgana frowned at the lack of decoration and laughter and excitement. Even the warmth of fires seemed diminished somehow and the light of candles less bright.
The hurried activity was there, with knights practicing their skills and furiously training their men and servants running back and forth with their master’s swords and armour and messages from the king and his advisors. It was yuletide and Camelot was on the brink of war.
Morgana stood at her window watching Arthur strike again and again at poor Merlin, his face angry and determined. Snow was falling and even from this distance Morgana could see Merlin shivering in his armour. She wondered at them both; so alike and so different. She knew, as did Arthur, that no matter how many times he might shout and order and argue against it, Merlin was following Arthur to war. Whether he liked it or not. Morgana did not understand how she knew, how she could be so certain when Merlin seemed so very hapless most of time, but the thought of Merlin beside Arthur comforted her. Perhaps it was his determination, or his unfailing belief that he could protect Arthur. It made Morgana wonder sometimes.
There was a gentle rapping at the door that Morgana recognised as Gwen and she smiled and turned away from the window and the boys and their fighting.
“Come in, Gwen,” she called, straightening her skirts.
The door creaked as it was pushed open and Gwen entered with a bright grin and a pile of blankets.
“I thought you might be cold,” she said, meeting Morgana’s eyes warmly, then she frowned slightly. “My lady, you should really put on something warmer than that,” she scolded and closed the door behind her with her shoulder.
“I’m fine, Gwen,” Morgana insisted but Gwen just shook her head and laid the blankets down on the bed before walking over to Morgana’s clothes chest.
“It’s very cold today,” Gwen went on. “I had to put four pairs of socks on this morning before I could feel my toes again.” She was rifling through the chest now and Morgana could not help but admit; she enjoyed watching Gwen. Her kind face, and dark hair filled with soft curls, the way she would always wring her hands if she was worried or frustrated. The curve of her back when she bent to pick up her mistresses shoes. The way Gwen smiled at Morgana across the banquet hall, or in the morning when she woke her, or at night when Gwen would look at her in the mirror as she brushed out her hair and Morgana would enjoy the feel of hands stroking against her head and fingers resting gently against her shoulder or at the nape of her neck. She loved the way Gwen always paid attention to her.
And Gwen was saying, “I had to borrow a neighbour’s vest for Merlin because he was shivering when I saw him in the courtyard this morning.”
“He’s shivering now too,” Morgana laughed. “But I think that’s because Arthur has beaten him to jelly.” She pointed out the window beside her and Gwen came over carrying a thick fur.
“They are really going then,” she said, coming to a halt beside Morgana and looking sadly out the window at the Merlin and Arthur, still sparring in the snow.
“They will come back safely,” Morgana told her in a quiet voice. This she knew, though she didn’t know how. Like she knew of fear and danger in her dreams, sometimes she knew of joy and relief too.
Gwen looked at her searchingly, seemed to find what she was looking for because she nodded. “They will,” she agreed and turned to Morgana, wrapping the fur around her shoulders. “And you will not catch a chill.”
Morgana nodded solemnly. “Yes, mother,” which made Gwen giggle and draw away shyly.
“I brought you something,” she said and went back to the blankets she had brought with her. Morgana followed curiously behind her. “It’s just so sad in the castle.” Gwen carefully lifted several blankets off the pile to reveal a slightly crushed sprig of mistletoe. “I thought we might at least cheer your room up a little.” She shook her head. “It’s so frustrating that no one will let us help at all.”
“That is men for you,” Morgana shrugged, then grinned. “They are afraid we will beat them if they let us fight. Their pride will not take such a blow.”
“That is true,” Gwen agreed, smiling, then carefully picked up the mistletoe and handed it to Morgana. “For luck,” she said.
“For other things than just luck,” Morgana smiled and Gwen blushed deeply when Morgana held the mistletoe up over their heads. “Gwen?” she asked, inching forward.
It was probably too much, Morgana thought, too much to ask, but Gwen smiled at her shyly and shuffled forward, her head tilted back and her eyes looking only at Morgana. So Morgana knew, Gwen wanted this too (she had, after all, brought mistletoe) and she wasn’t afraid when her lips met Gwen’s, all warm but dry from the cold so that Morgana wanted to lick them and lick them. Gwen pressed back, one hand lying tentatively against Morgana’s arm. Morgana felt her breath against he face and she reached out and held her face in her hands as she kissed her, gently, then more demanding, letting the mistletoe fall to the floor.
“We must be careful,” Gwen breathed between hurried kisses. “Not to step on the mistletoe.”
“Why,” Morgana asked, sliding her hands up into Gwen’s hair. “Is that?” She kissed the side of Gwen’s mouth, then her chin, then her neck, feeling her pulse beat fast through the skin at her throat.
“It is bad luck,” Gwen sighed. And Morgana thought, You could not bring bad luck to anyone and Perhaps the castle is not so cold and dark after all.
.End.
Comments and Concrit, as always, most welcomed and appreciated.
And now I go to meet Monsieur Pumpkin Lord.
In other news: this is quite possibly the most awesome Merlin pimpspam IN THE UNIVERSE.
And I wrote two fics today. TWO. And I haven't even left work yet. And that doesn't include the next part of the Epic I am currently working on which I did on the train. (See above: Stranger Enjoys Reading Hot Old Man Sex on Commuter Train). What has Merlin done to me?
It was comment fic. cienna thought it should be shared. And so I present:
Title: This Day, As Any Other
Rating: PG
Words: 1,003
Summary: Morgana/Gwen. Hint of Arthur/Merlin. Another Christmas fic, because I'm cheesy like that.
.This Day, As Any Other.
The castle was cold and dark and drafty and Morgana frowned at the lack of decoration and laughter and excitement. Even the warmth of fires seemed diminished somehow and the light of candles less bright.
The hurried activity was there, with knights practicing their skills and furiously training their men and servants running back and forth with their master’s swords and armour and messages from the king and his advisors. It was yuletide and Camelot was on the brink of war.
Morgana stood at her window watching Arthur strike again and again at poor Merlin, his face angry and determined. Snow was falling and even from this distance Morgana could see Merlin shivering in his armour. She wondered at them both; so alike and so different. She knew, as did Arthur, that no matter how many times he might shout and order and argue against it, Merlin was following Arthur to war. Whether he liked it or not. Morgana did not understand how she knew, how she could be so certain when Merlin seemed so very hapless most of time, but the thought of Merlin beside Arthur comforted her. Perhaps it was his determination, or his unfailing belief that he could protect Arthur. It made Morgana wonder sometimes.
There was a gentle rapping at the door that Morgana recognised as Gwen and she smiled and turned away from the window and the boys and their fighting.
“Come in, Gwen,” she called, straightening her skirts.
The door creaked as it was pushed open and Gwen entered with a bright grin and a pile of blankets.
“I thought you might be cold,” she said, meeting Morgana’s eyes warmly, then she frowned slightly. “My lady, you should really put on something warmer than that,” she scolded and closed the door behind her with her shoulder.
“I’m fine, Gwen,” Morgana insisted but Gwen just shook her head and laid the blankets down on the bed before walking over to Morgana’s clothes chest.
“It’s very cold today,” Gwen went on. “I had to put four pairs of socks on this morning before I could feel my toes again.” She was rifling through the chest now and Morgana could not help but admit; she enjoyed watching Gwen. Her kind face, and dark hair filled with soft curls, the way she would always wring her hands if she was worried or frustrated. The curve of her back when she bent to pick up her mistresses shoes. The way Gwen smiled at Morgana across the banquet hall, or in the morning when she woke her, or at night when Gwen would look at her in the mirror as she brushed out her hair and Morgana would enjoy the feel of hands stroking against her head and fingers resting gently against her shoulder or at the nape of her neck. She loved the way Gwen always paid attention to her.
And Gwen was saying, “I had to borrow a neighbour’s vest for Merlin because he was shivering when I saw him in the courtyard this morning.”
“He’s shivering now too,” Morgana laughed. “But I think that’s because Arthur has beaten him to jelly.” She pointed out the window beside her and Gwen came over carrying a thick fur.
“They are really going then,” she said, coming to a halt beside Morgana and looking sadly out the window at the Merlin and Arthur, still sparring in the snow.
“They will come back safely,” Morgana told her in a quiet voice. This she knew, though she didn’t know how. Like she knew of fear and danger in her dreams, sometimes she knew of joy and relief too.
Gwen looked at her searchingly, seemed to find what she was looking for because she nodded. “They will,” she agreed and turned to Morgana, wrapping the fur around her shoulders. “And you will not catch a chill.”
Morgana nodded solemnly. “Yes, mother,” which made Gwen giggle and draw away shyly.
“I brought you something,” she said and went back to the blankets she had brought with her. Morgana followed curiously behind her. “It’s just so sad in the castle.” Gwen carefully lifted several blankets off the pile to reveal a slightly crushed sprig of mistletoe. “I thought we might at least cheer your room up a little.” She shook her head. “It’s so frustrating that no one will let us help at all.”
“That is men for you,” Morgana shrugged, then grinned. “They are afraid we will beat them if they let us fight. Their pride will not take such a blow.”
“That is true,” Gwen agreed, smiling, then carefully picked up the mistletoe and handed it to Morgana. “For luck,” she said.
“For other things than just luck,” Morgana smiled and Gwen blushed deeply when Morgana held the mistletoe up over their heads. “Gwen?” she asked, inching forward.
It was probably too much, Morgana thought, too much to ask, but Gwen smiled at her shyly and shuffled forward, her head tilted back and her eyes looking only at Morgana. So Morgana knew, Gwen wanted this too (she had, after all, brought mistletoe) and she wasn’t afraid when her lips met Gwen’s, all warm but dry from the cold so that Morgana wanted to lick them and lick them. Gwen pressed back, one hand lying tentatively against Morgana’s arm. Morgana felt her breath against he face and she reached out and held her face in her hands as she kissed her, gently, then more demanding, letting the mistletoe fall to the floor.
“We must be careful,” Gwen breathed between hurried kisses. “Not to step on the mistletoe.”
“Why,” Morgana asked, sliding her hands up into Gwen’s hair. “Is that?” She kissed the side of Gwen’s mouth, then her chin, then her neck, feeling her pulse beat fast through the skin at her throat.
“It is bad luck,” Gwen sighed. And Morgana thought, You could not bring bad luck to anyone and Perhaps the castle is not so cold and dark after all.
.End.
Comments and Concrit, as always, most welcomed and appreciated.
And now I go to meet Monsieur Pumpkin Lord.