The Princess Club
Fandom: BBC's Merlin
Pairing(s): Elena/Mithian/Morgana
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 800
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly...
Summary: Morgana takes Elena and Mithian out for a picnic. Pre-series, but with 4x11 spoilers.
Author’s Notes: That episode was a disappointment in a lot of ways, but it's lending itself to a lot of femslash inspiration!
One day, long before the fate of Albion rested in the hands of a young boy, three young princesses lounged on a blanket in the middle of a sunny meadow full of flowers and brightly singing birds. Well, two princesses and the ward of a king, but since they knew that someday they would all be married off to whichever prince was most politically advantageous, Elena and Mithian thought of Morgana as no different from themselves. They snacked on fruits and bread and cheese, Morgana holding a strawberry up to Mithian’s mouth for her to nibble on while Elena tore off a chunk of bread with her teeth, two swords leaning deserted against a bush.
Morgana cherished the rare times that Mithian visited, as it meant she’d finally have a sparing partner who didn’t hold back (she’d grown tired of beating Arthur after she noticed that he’d realized she had breasts), and Elena had proved a very competent referee once they’d decided that it was safer to keep the swords away from her.
“At least you’ll be able to stay in Camelot, once the King marries you off to Arthur,” Elena mumbled through a mouth full of bread.
“I dread the day,” Morgana said as she sucked the berry juice off her fingers before leaning down to lick it off Mithian’s lips. “Arthur is an insufferable child, I don’t wish marriage to him on anyone.”
“You must get some joy out of having him around, surely.”
“I believe she used to get much enjoyment out of beating him with a sword,” Mithian offered with a sly grin.
“That was the way of things,” Morgana chuckled. “Though wounding him with words or steel have both become equally dissatisfying as of late. Thankfully, I believe his father means to marry us off to strengthen alliances.”
“I doubt my father would even be able to make me a political match. Men would rather lose his allegiance than have to live their entire lives with someone like me.”
At that, Morgana leaned in to hug her tightly while Mithian assured her that she was lovely and intelligent and funny, and any man would have to be thicker than a castle wall to not see that. Morgana laughed and replied that all men were arrogant and shallow, and they were all better off without any of this marriage nonsense.
Suddenly Elena let out a horrendous belch that echoed off the trees in the distance and sent dozens of birds flying scared. Morgana spent half a moment shocked at the power of the sound that had just come out of her friend and then bent over with laughter, making Elena blush to her ears. This did not amuse Mithian in the slightest and she eyed Morgana critically. Then she let out a belch of her own, much louder than Elena’s, sending the remaining birds scattering.
This did not have its intended effect, much to Mithian’s dismay, as it sent Elena into a fit of hiccoughs that would not cease no matter the advice her friends gave her. This included helping her stand on her head (Morgana’s idea) and something that led to red wine being spilt all down her front (Morgana was certain she could enlist Gwen’s help to get the dress back into the castle unnoticed).
“Well, why not,” Morgana said with a shrug, having run out of ideas. The two women looked at her cautiously and Elena’s body bounced in another hiccough.
Morgana leaned into Elena, grasping her hair firmly in her fingers, and kissed her soundly. She felt Elena tense in surprise, but she quickly relaxed into Morgana’s touch and let the kiss deepen. When they pulled away from each other, Elena was again flushed, though this time not from embarrassment.
“That was infinitely better than the awkward kiss Arthur attempted to give me yesterday,” Elena sighed dreamily.
“I would be insulted if anyone ever thought otherwise!”
“Not that you need anything to help with your ego, but it seems to have worked as well,” Mithian commented dryly as Elena leaned back against her, just before she let out a particularly startling hiccough that sent her elbow into a bowl full of wild berries they’d picked just before entering the meadow.
“It’s a hopeless cause. I wash my hands of it,” Morgana teased, not unkindly.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying,” Mithian whispered to the woman in her arms as she hiccoughed again. She brushed Elena’s hair out of her face as she leaned down to kiss her forehead and Elena smiled adoringly up at her.
Morgana lay back down on the blanket and began to plop grapes lazily into her mouth as she watched white, fluffy clouds sail by above her, a contented smile spreading slowly over her face.
Pairing(s): Elena/Mithian/Morgana
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 800
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly...
Summary: Morgana takes Elena and Mithian out for a picnic. Pre-series, but with 4x11 spoilers.
Author’s Notes: That episode was a disappointment in a lot of ways, but it's lending itself to a lot of femslash inspiration!
One day, long before the fate of Albion rested in the hands of a young boy, three young princesses lounged on a blanket in the middle of a sunny meadow full of flowers and brightly singing birds. Well, two princesses and the ward of a king, but since they knew that someday they would all be married off to whichever prince was most politically advantageous, Elena and Mithian thought of Morgana as no different from themselves. They snacked on fruits and bread and cheese, Morgana holding a strawberry up to Mithian’s mouth for her to nibble on while Elena tore off a chunk of bread with her teeth, two swords leaning deserted against a bush.
Morgana cherished the rare times that Mithian visited, as it meant she’d finally have a sparing partner who didn’t hold back (she’d grown tired of beating Arthur after she noticed that he’d realized she had breasts), and Elena had proved a very competent referee once they’d decided that it was safer to keep the swords away from her.
“At least you’ll be able to stay in Camelot, once the King marries you off to Arthur,” Elena mumbled through a mouth full of bread.
“I dread the day,” Morgana said as she sucked the berry juice off her fingers before leaning down to lick it off Mithian’s lips. “Arthur is an insufferable child, I don’t wish marriage to him on anyone.”
“You must get some joy out of having him around, surely.”
“I believe she used to get much enjoyment out of beating him with a sword,” Mithian offered with a sly grin.
“That was the way of things,” Morgana chuckled. “Though wounding him with words or steel have both become equally dissatisfying as of late. Thankfully, I believe his father means to marry us off to strengthen alliances.”
“I doubt my father would even be able to make me a political match. Men would rather lose his allegiance than have to live their entire lives with someone like me.”
At that, Morgana leaned in to hug her tightly while Mithian assured her that she was lovely and intelligent and funny, and any man would have to be thicker than a castle wall to not see that. Morgana laughed and replied that all men were arrogant and shallow, and they were all better off without any of this marriage nonsense.
Suddenly Elena let out a horrendous belch that echoed off the trees in the distance and sent dozens of birds flying scared. Morgana spent half a moment shocked at the power of the sound that had just come out of her friend and then bent over with laughter, making Elena blush to her ears. This did not amuse Mithian in the slightest and she eyed Morgana critically. Then she let out a belch of her own, much louder than Elena’s, sending the remaining birds scattering.
This did not have its intended effect, much to Mithian’s dismay, as it sent Elena into a fit of hiccoughs that would not cease no matter the advice her friends gave her. This included helping her stand on her head (Morgana’s idea) and something that led to red wine being spilt all down her front (Morgana was certain she could enlist Gwen’s help to get the dress back into the castle unnoticed).
“Well, why not,” Morgana said with a shrug, having run out of ideas. The two women looked at her cautiously and Elena’s body bounced in another hiccough.
Morgana leaned into Elena, grasping her hair firmly in her fingers, and kissed her soundly. She felt Elena tense in surprise, but she quickly relaxed into Morgana’s touch and let the kiss deepen. When they pulled away from each other, Elena was again flushed, though this time not from embarrassment.
“That was infinitely better than the awkward kiss Arthur attempted to give me yesterday,” Elena sighed dreamily.
“I would be insulted if anyone ever thought otherwise!”
“Not that you need anything to help with your ego, but it seems to have worked as well,” Mithian commented dryly as Elena leaned back against her, just before she let out a particularly startling hiccough that sent her elbow into a bowl full of wild berries they’d picked just before entering the meadow.
“It’s a hopeless cause. I wash my hands of it,” Morgana teased, not unkindly.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying,” Mithian whispered to the woman in her arms as she hiccoughed again. She brushed Elena’s hair out of her face as she leaned down to kiss her forehead and Elena smiled adoringly up at her.
Morgana lay back down on the blanket and began to plop grapes lazily into her mouth as she watched white, fluffy clouds sail by above her, a contented smile spreading slowly over her face.