The Motley Ribbon
This would be my reaction to the Merlin season 3 premiere I went to see last Sunday at the BFI. It would be, if I hadn't already had the idea before seeing it. As such, possibly spoilers for series 3 eps 1&2, but not really.
This was, I must say, a refreshing change from writing Dean/Cas. And editing. Which is the bane of my damn existance. Along with Transport for London. Who are evil, lying liars who lie.
Written for randomdiversion who asked for Gwen/Morgana, "stand by your man".
Thanks to cienna for the read-through!
Title: It Is The Legend
Rating: R
Words: 1,800
Summary: Morgana/Gwen. The legends were wrong.
.It Is The Legend.
Everything was different when Morgana came back.
Gwen expected it, she really did, what with being gone a year and who-knows-what happening to her, and being found like she had. She'd expected Morgana to be wary, maybe fearful, perhaps angry. Wrathful. Relieved. Anything. But there was just nothing.
Morgana was cold and distant, and not in a way that spoke of coming to terms with the past year, but rather, with a withdrawn superiority edged with biterness, spitefulness. Even hatred.
Gwen saw it all when Morgana looked at her. Everytime she looked at her, in the mornings when she brought breakfast and water. In the afternoons when she changed sheets or scrubbed the floor. In the evenings when Gwen turned down the bed, slipping heating stones between cool sheets. Morgana watched her, and for the first time in memory it made Gwen uncomfortable. Almost afraid.
At first, Gwen tried conversation, hoping it was just Morgana adjusting to Camelot again. That Morgana would get better when she rememered her friends loved her.
Gwen tried, "I'm glad you've returned," and "I was so afraid," and it was all true, but Morgana just looked back at Gwen steadily with those strange eyes. Gwen found it hard to see the Morgana she had known before at all in that look, no longer bright and full of life. Full now of dark places and dark thoughts, and Gwen told herself she couldn't imagine what it must be like for Morgana. What she'd gone through. So when Morgana made no reply, Gwen curtsied politely and took her leave, going to her home to not cry because this was Morgana, returned to them, and not some changling or magical thing come to destroy them. Gaius had said it was her, and Gwen believed it. Would believe it. Had to believe it.
Gwen was patient.
She watched, and she did what she could, and she couldn't fail to notice how often her Lady slipped away in the night. The strange smells in her room like old herbs and spices and rotting fruit. She didn't protest when Morgana sent her away more often than not.
Gwen tried, "It's cold out. You should wear something thicker," and Morgana smiled, but it wasn't kind.
Gwen tried, "You're sleeping well," because Morgana was, and that, at least, was a relief. With everything that had happened, to see Morgana suffering even in her dreams again would just be too much for anyone to bear. Morgana threw her a strange smile, that time, but at least she replied, "I have come to understand what they mean."
"What they mean?" Gwen asked.
"They are a comfort to me now," Morgana replied, her voice uninflected, but her eyes narrowed as though they saw something fantastic. The look made Gwen shiver, but it was a cold night so she thought nothing of it.
But so many times, so often, Gwen could see how false, how untrue Morgana was.
To Uther. To Arthur. To Gaius. Gwen didn't even like to think on the way she looked at Merlin. Gwen couldn't understand it at all. Why did no one else see? Why did everyone believe everything was well with the Lady Morgana; back to how it had been before? The King doted on her, even when he looked away she sneered at him. Arthur held her like a sister and told her everything would be alright, and then when he was gone Morgana would scoff and shake her head.
Why was she the only who could see?
Gwen tried, "I brought you flowers," smiling, even though she had learnt that Morgana no longer cared for the things she had before.
"I can use flowers," Morgana said, plucking the bunch from Gwen's hands. She placed them on the table, drew a knife from her sleeve and cut the heads off of every one.
Gwen tried, "I wish you would speak to me," frustrated and lonely and wanting the Morgana she had known before back, because this wasn't her friend. This couldn't be.
Morgana replied, "You would not like what I have to say," but it wasn't as cold as Gwen had expected, as hurtful. There was, perhaps, regret there. And still Gwen felt Morgana's eyes following her as she turned away, having no idea what more she could say. Watching her. Always watching her.
At the end of hope, thinking Morgana really was gone, forever this time, Gwen tried, "Why won't you trust me?"
This time, Morgana stepped close, face unreadable in the half-light of dusk, and said softly, "I've showed you more of the truth than anyone else here in Camelot."
Gwen thought, yes, you show me your hatred and your contempt and your malice and you are not Morgana.
"You're not the same," Gwen argued. She wanted to be at home, beside her fire. She wanted to be in the kitchens, talking to the bakers. She wanted to be anywhere but with Morgana looking at her like she could see everything. Like there was nothing Gwen could hide.
"And yet," Morgana said slowly. "You say nothing."
"I thought you were troubled. That you would get better."
Morgana's smile then was almost gentle as she took Gwen's face in her hands. "There is nothing to get better from."
"You frighten me," Gwen admitted, anguish and worry and everything she'd been holding onto for the past three months suddenly there, on her tongue, in the space between herself and Morgana. "I miss you."
"This is me, Gwen," Morgana told her. There was sadness in her voice. Real and sharp. "I have become what I must be. To survive."
"But you're not in that place anymore. You're home. You're safe."
And that, it seemed, was the very worst thing Gwen could say because then Morgana pushed her away, her eyes furious and golden in the firelight.
"There is no safety here for me," she spat, and Gwen was left, alone and uncertain and knowing there was more to this than she had realised.
So she watched, and Morgana let her. It felt a lot like trust, how Morgana would sneer at everyone else, then turn her eyes on Gwen and smile some secret, knowing smile that made Gwen hot and cold all at once. Morgana stirred potions late into the night, whispered strange words under her breath, told Gwen, well past the curfew bells, "I'm going out," as though she were daring her to say something. To tell someone.
So many times Gwen thought to speak to Gaius, or Merlin, or maybe even Arthur, but then she remembered the loathing and the malice in Morgana's eyes whenever she looked upon them and decided she couldn't. Morgana had a reason, she decided. There was some justification for it all.
Morgana always returned, dirt-streaked on her dresses and cloaks and shoes, and Gwen scrubbed away the evidence, and covered for her mistress's absences, and locked away her poisons and her herbs and her strange crystals.
"You're either naive," Morgana told her, late one night, when the moon was absent and the room cold. Gwen paused, the window shutter half open where she'd been closing it. She heard Morgana's shoes on the stone floor as she moved closer. "Or you are purposely deluding yourself."
Gwen knew. Yes, Gwen knew.
"I don't know what you mean, my Lady," Gwen replied, keeping her voice steady, light. If she allowed herself to understand, Gwen would be admitting to treason, and other things she didn't care to think of.
"You've been watching me," Morgana said. Gwen could feel Morgana behind her now, so close she was almost touching. She spoke into Gwen's ear softly, intimately. "I have let you."
Gwen tried, "You're a good person." Her resolve was failing her. Her belief was shaken. But her loyalties, she realised, were not torn.
"And Uther Pendragon is not," Morgana whispered, breath hot against her skin. Gwen could feel her hands playing with the ends of her hair.
It wasn't hard to shake her head, because it was true. What Uther had done to her was almost as bad as what Uther would surely do to Morgana if he knew. If he found out what she could do. What she had done.
"But Arthur-" Gwen began, and Morgana growled at the name, angry, possessive, and put her arms around Gwen's waist, pulling her back against her body and pushing her mouth and her nose and her chin to the skin behind Gwen's ear.
"He is his father's son," Morgana said, bringing her hands up over Gwen's stomach, to her breasts. "He will betray us," she said, and pressed her body closer until Gwen was trapped between the window and Morgana and she wanted, oh, she wanted. Had wanted. Would never thought she could have. "I have seen it."
In that moment, Gwen believed her. Morgana didn't lie to her. Morgana showed her the truth. Morgana was there, taking Gwen's face in her hands and turning her around, putting her lips to Gwen's in one warm, long caress.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Gwen breathed between kisses, in the time between feeling Morgana's tongue tracing along her teeth and feeling Morgana's hand lifting up her skirts, running her hand up along the inside of Gwen's thigh.
"We must protect ourselves." Morgana kissed Gwen again, and again, and again, and Gwen was filled with pleasure at the way Morgana had said "we," and at the way Morgana's fingers rubbed against her.
This was so new, and so fast, but this was Morgana. Gwen was sure of it. Her touch was too gentle, her words too soft and full of kindness, yet still heavy with some undefined sadness. Now Gwen could see what it was; lonliness, fear, longing, regret.
Gwen knew them all.
She said, "We must protect ourselves," and held on to the silken fabric of Morgana's dress as her Lady pressed inside her, her thumb stroking rhythmically against sensitive nerves. Gwen gasped, leaning forward to find Morgana's lips and taste her and know her again, pushing herself against Morgana. "Let's leave," Gwen said, begged. "Let's not be here."
Gwen felt Morgana's smile against her cheek. "There are things I must do to-"
"No," she insisted. "I don't care. Let's just be safe." She thought of flowers and secret looks exchanged and quiet words spoken. Camelot was her home and she loved it and didn't want to see it harmed, but she wanted Morgana more. She wanted to not be afraid. "Together."
Gwen wrapped her arms around Morgana's neck, touched her face and her lips and her hair. She let her tongue meet Morgana's, spoke promises against her throat as she kissed her there, told her she loved her. She'd always loved her.
"We'll go," Morgana replied, wrapped around Gwen, warm and certain. "We'll go."
.End.
Comments and concrit much appreciated by any and all.
This was, I must say, a refreshing change from writing Dean/Cas. And editing. Which is the bane of my damn existance. Along with Transport for London. Who are evil, lying liars who lie.
Written for randomdiversion who asked for Gwen/Morgana, "stand by your man".
Thanks to cienna for the read-through!
Title: It Is The Legend
Rating: R
Words: 1,800
Summary: Morgana/Gwen. The legends were wrong.
.It Is The Legend.
Everything was different when Morgana came back.
Gwen expected it, she really did, what with being gone a year and who-knows-what happening to her, and being found like she had. She'd expected Morgana to be wary, maybe fearful, perhaps angry. Wrathful. Relieved. Anything. But there was just nothing.
Morgana was cold and distant, and not in a way that spoke of coming to terms with the past year, but rather, with a withdrawn superiority edged with biterness, spitefulness. Even hatred.
Gwen saw it all when Morgana looked at her. Everytime she looked at her, in the mornings when she brought breakfast and water. In the afternoons when she changed sheets or scrubbed the floor. In the evenings when Gwen turned down the bed, slipping heating stones between cool sheets. Morgana watched her, and for the first time in memory it made Gwen uncomfortable. Almost afraid.
At first, Gwen tried conversation, hoping it was just Morgana adjusting to Camelot again. That Morgana would get better when she rememered her friends loved her.
Gwen tried, "I'm glad you've returned," and "I was so afraid," and it was all true, but Morgana just looked back at Gwen steadily with those strange eyes. Gwen found it hard to see the Morgana she had known before at all in that look, no longer bright and full of life. Full now of dark places and dark thoughts, and Gwen told herself she couldn't imagine what it must be like for Morgana. What she'd gone through. So when Morgana made no reply, Gwen curtsied politely and took her leave, going to her home to not cry because this was Morgana, returned to them, and not some changling or magical thing come to destroy them. Gaius had said it was her, and Gwen believed it. Would believe it. Had to believe it.
Gwen was patient.
She watched, and she did what she could, and she couldn't fail to notice how often her Lady slipped away in the night. The strange smells in her room like old herbs and spices and rotting fruit. She didn't protest when Morgana sent her away more often than not.
Gwen tried, "It's cold out. You should wear something thicker," and Morgana smiled, but it wasn't kind.
Gwen tried, "You're sleeping well," because Morgana was, and that, at least, was a relief. With everything that had happened, to see Morgana suffering even in her dreams again would just be too much for anyone to bear. Morgana threw her a strange smile, that time, but at least she replied, "I have come to understand what they mean."
"What they mean?" Gwen asked.
"They are a comfort to me now," Morgana replied, her voice uninflected, but her eyes narrowed as though they saw something fantastic. The look made Gwen shiver, but it was a cold night so she thought nothing of it.
But so many times, so often, Gwen could see how false, how untrue Morgana was.
To Uther. To Arthur. To Gaius. Gwen didn't even like to think on the way she looked at Merlin. Gwen couldn't understand it at all. Why did no one else see? Why did everyone believe everything was well with the Lady Morgana; back to how it had been before? The King doted on her, even when he looked away she sneered at him. Arthur held her like a sister and told her everything would be alright, and then when he was gone Morgana would scoff and shake her head.
Why was she the only who could see?
Gwen tried, "I brought you flowers," smiling, even though she had learnt that Morgana no longer cared for the things she had before.
"I can use flowers," Morgana said, plucking the bunch from Gwen's hands. She placed them on the table, drew a knife from her sleeve and cut the heads off of every one.
Gwen tried, "I wish you would speak to me," frustrated and lonely and wanting the Morgana she had known before back, because this wasn't her friend. This couldn't be.
Morgana replied, "You would not like what I have to say," but it wasn't as cold as Gwen had expected, as hurtful. There was, perhaps, regret there. And still Gwen felt Morgana's eyes following her as she turned away, having no idea what more she could say. Watching her. Always watching her.
At the end of hope, thinking Morgana really was gone, forever this time, Gwen tried, "Why won't you trust me?"
This time, Morgana stepped close, face unreadable in the half-light of dusk, and said softly, "I've showed you more of the truth than anyone else here in Camelot."
Gwen thought, yes, you show me your hatred and your contempt and your malice and you are not Morgana.
"You're not the same," Gwen argued. She wanted to be at home, beside her fire. She wanted to be in the kitchens, talking to the bakers. She wanted to be anywhere but with Morgana looking at her like she could see everything. Like there was nothing Gwen could hide.
"And yet," Morgana said slowly. "You say nothing."
"I thought you were troubled. That you would get better."
Morgana's smile then was almost gentle as she took Gwen's face in her hands. "There is nothing to get better from."
"You frighten me," Gwen admitted, anguish and worry and everything she'd been holding onto for the past three months suddenly there, on her tongue, in the space between herself and Morgana. "I miss you."
"This is me, Gwen," Morgana told her. There was sadness in her voice. Real and sharp. "I have become what I must be. To survive."
"But you're not in that place anymore. You're home. You're safe."
And that, it seemed, was the very worst thing Gwen could say because then Morgana pushed her away, her eyes furious and golden in the firelight.
"There is no safety here for me," she spat, and Gwen was left, alone and uncertain and knowing there was more to this than she had realised.
So she watched, and Morgana let her. It felt a lot like trust, how Morgana would sneer at everyone else, then turn her eyes on Gwen and smile some secret, knowing smile that made Gwen hot and cold all at once. Morgana stirred potions late into the night, whispered strange words under her breath, told Gwen, well past the curfew bells, "I'm going out," as though she were daring her to say something. To tell someone.
So many times Gwen thought to speak to Gaius, or Merlin, or maybe even Arthur, but then she remembered the loathing and the malice in Morgana's eyes whenever she looked upon them and decided she couldn't. Morgana had a reason, she decided. There was some justification for it all.
Morgana always returned, dirt-streaked on her dresses and cloaks and shoes, and Gwen scrubbed away the evidence, and covered for her mistress's absences, and locked away her poisons and her herbs and her strange crystals.
"You're either naive," Morgana told her, late one night, when the moon was absent and the room cold. Gwen paused, the window shutter half open where she'd been closing it. She heard Morgana's shoes on the stone floor as she moved closer. "Or you are purposely deluding yourself."
Gwen knew. Yes, Gwen knew.
"I don't know what you mean, my Lady," Gwen replied, keeping her voice steady, light. If she allowed herself to understand, Gwen would be admitting to treason, and other things she didn't care to think of.
"You've been watching me," Morgana said. Gwen could feel Morgana behind her now, so close she was almost touching. She spoke into Gwen's ear softly, intimately. "I have let you."
Gwen tried, "You're a good person." Her resolve was failing her. Her belief was shaken. But her loyalties, she realised, were not torn.
"And Uther Pendragon is not," Morgana whispered, breath hot against her skin. Gwen could feel her hands playing with the ends of her hair.
It wasn't hard to shake her head, because it was true. What Uther had done to her was almost as bad as what Uther would surely do to Morgana if he knew. If he found out what she could do. What she had done.
"But Arthur-" Gwen began, and Morgana growled at the name, angry, possessive, and put her arms around Gwen's waist, pulling her back against her body and pushing her mouth and her nose and her chin to the skin behind Gwen's ear.
"He is his father's son," Morgana said, bringing her hands up over Gwen's stomach, to her breasts. "He will betray us," she said, and pressed her body closer until Gwen was trapped between the window and Morgana and she wanted, oh, she wanted. Had wanted. Would never thought she could have. "I have seen it."
In that moment, Gwen believed her. Morgana didn't lie to her. Morgana showed her the truth. Morgana was there, taking Gwen's face in her hands and turning her around, putting her lips to Gwen's in one warm, long caress.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Gwen breathed between kisses, in the time between feeling Morgana's tongue tracing along her teeth and feeling Morgana's hand lifting up her skirts, running her hand up along the inside of Gwen's thigh.
"We must protect ourselves." Morgana kissed Gwen again, and again, and again, and Gwen was filled with pleasure at the way Morgana had said "we," and at the way Morgana's fingers rubbed against her.
This was so new, and so fast, but this was Morgana. Gwen was sure of it. Her touch was too gentle, her words too soft and full of kindness, yet still heavy with some undefined sadness. Now Gwen could see what it was; lonliness, fear, longing, regret.
Gwen knew them all.
She said, "We must protect ourselves," and held on to the silken fabric of Morgana's dress as her Lady pressed inside her, her thumb stroking rhythmically against sensitive nerves. Gwen gasped, leaning forward to find Morgana's lips and taste her and know her again, pushing herself against Morgana. "Let's leave," Gwen said, begged. "Let's not be here."
Gwen felt Morgana's smile against her cheek. "There are things I must do to-"
"No," she insisted. "I don't care. Let's just be safe." She thought of flowers and secret looks exchanged and quiet words spoken. Camelot was her home and she loved it and didn't want to see it harmed, but she wanted Morgana more. She wanted to not be afraid. "Together."
Gwen wrapped her arms around Morgana's neck, touched her face and her lips and her hair. She let her tongue meet Morgana's, spoke promises against her throat as she kissed her there, told her she loved her. She'd always loved her.
"We'll go," Morgana replied, wrapped around Gwen, warm and certain. "We'll go."
.End.
Comments and concrit much appreciated by any and all.