His Fierce Princess
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: His Fierce Princess
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Morgana, Gorlois
Summary: She was his fierce princess and always would be.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 451
Camelot Drabble Prompt bingo 512: Morgana
Author’s notes: none
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Patrolling the kingdom, fighting constant battles, her father was often gone, but when Gorlois came home, sometimes exhausted, the first person he’d send for was Morgana. He would sit her down, explaining about strategies and sword-fighting, the latest techniques in sieges and battles, and she loved him for it. She felt like she was his whole world and Gorlois was certainly hers.
Sometimes it took her breath away how much she loved her father. She wanted to be the light in his eyes and his finest achievement, and she tried always to be the best she could be, for him.
But Gorlois was also that bad king’s second-in-command, and much as Morgana wailed and pleaded for him to stay, her father would kneel down and explain things to her, even things she didn’t want to hear, patient as always with her scowls and stamping feet.
Then leave her to nursemaids and tutors. She hated that.
On her tenth birthday, after much grumbling about knights and swords and why didn’t she have one, Gorlois had gifted her a small sword, dulled on the edge, and lightweight enough that Morgana only had a little trouble lifting it up. Her arms always hurt afterward, but Gorlois would smile and tell her how much he loved his fierce princess, that someday she would be the finest warrior in the land.
Best of all, he showed her ways to fight, sneaky ways and honourable ones, too, and she grew stronger with every swordfight, often winning against squires half again her age.
He had even given her a chainmail shirt and gauntlets, delicate and yet strong and smiled to see her put them on. She swore never to take them off, that she would always been his princess, and fight beside him when she grew up.
Lifting his goblet, he toasted her, then and there, and told her she could defeat the strongest army with her will alone. That he was as proud as any father could be and then arranged for a tourney the next day.
She won against all the boys.
But one day, much as she hated to see her father go, thinking that he would be back soon enough, there came the news that Gorlois had been killed in battle. And she, wailing at the loss, was tossed into the care of that monster, Uther Pendragon, the man who had sent her father to die.
She never forgave Uther for it.
Years later, when Uther gurgled out his last, dead because of her, in her lonely hut, she smiled and whispered into the air, “I’ve made him pay. For taking you from me. At long last, your fierce princess has made him pay.”
Title: His Fierce Princess
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Morgana, Gorlois
Summary: She was his fierce princess and always would be.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 451
Camelot Drabble Prompt bingo 512: Morgana
Author’s notes: none
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
---------------
Patrolling the kingdom, fighting constant battles, her father was often gone, but when Gorlois came home, sometimes exhausted, the first person he’d send for was Morgana. He would sit her down, explaining about strategies and sword-fighting, the latest techniques in sieges and battles, and she loved him for it. She felt like she was his whole world and Gorlois was certainly hers.
Sometimes it took her breath away how much she loved her father. She wanted to be the light in his eyes and his finest achievement, and she tried always to be the best she could be, for him.
But Gorlois was also that bad king’s second-in-command, and much as Morgana wailed and pleaded for him to stay, her father would kneel down and explain things to her, even things she didn’t want to hear, patient as always with her scowls and stamping feet.
Then leave her to nursemaids and tutors. She hated that.
On her tenth birthday, after much grumbling about knights and swords and why didn’t she have one, Gorlois had gifted her a small sword, dulled on the edge, and lightweight enough that Morgana only had a little trouble lifting it up. Her arms always hurt afterward, but Gorlois would smile and tell her how much he loved his fierce princess, that someday she would be the finest warrior in the land.
Best of all, he showed her ways to fight, sneaky ways and honourable ones, too, and she grew stronger with every swordfight, often winning against squires half again her age.
He had even given her a chainmail shirt and gauntlets, delicate and yet strong and smiled to see her put them on. She swore never to take them off, that she would always been his princess, and fight beside him when she grew up.
Lifting his goblet, he toasted her, then and there, and told her she could defeat the strongest army with her will alone. That he was as proud as any father could be and then arranged for a tourney the next day.
She won against all the boys.
But one day, much as she hated to see her father go, thinking that he would be back soon enough, there came the news that Gorlois had been killed in battle. And she, wailing at the loss, was tossed into the care of that monster, Uther Pendragon, the man who had sent her father to die.
She never forgave Uther for it.
Years later, when Uther gurgled out his last, dead because of her, in her lonely hut, she smiled and whispered into the air, “I’ve made him pay. For taking you from me. At long last, your fierce princess has made him pay.”