[Merlin] When the Maiden Loved the Knight
Title: When the Maiden Loved the Knight
Wordcount: ~4000
Pairing/Characters: Morgana/Gwen, Morgana/Arthur (kinda sorta not really), Gaius
Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own these characters.
Note: Written for the Fall Fandom Free-For-All over at oxoniensis, for krazykipper 's prompt "Fic, Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, how did Gwen come to be Morgana's handmaiden?" It got, uh, a little longer than that, but I don't think you'll mind?
Gwen didn't remember much about her mother. She remembered long, sweeping skirts, soothing hands, a laugh like bubbling water. And mostly, she remembered the stories.
Every night, her mother would sit her down in bed and pull the old blanket over her. The coarse wool of it scratched against her bare skin, making her feel warm and strange and dream-like, and her mother's soft voice would carry her away. She would tell stories of great knights, of heroic battles, even speak wistfully of the days when traveling magicians would pass through without fear of losing their heads, of the light shows, the empty suits of armor that would fight each other to a standstill, the hawks with eyes of flame, the fish that spoke with men's voices. But it was the tales of love that Gwen liked best, because at the center of every tale of love, whether it have a tragic ending or happy, whether lovers were found or lost, was a princess.
Gwen loved to hear about princesses. She loved when her mother described the great dances, and she would always make her stop and go back to them, asking sleepy, wondering questions ("What was Princess Mara wearing? Diamonds? But wasn't Princess Elena jealous? I would be.") and pressing for details about the long looks shared between a princess and her chosen knight. And when her mother told her about the battle maidens of the far north, who wielded swords like men and slew giants, Gwen sat bolt upright and decided that princesses were the most perfect things in the world.
So when the Lady Morgana was introduced to the court, her tiny, pale face set and sorrowful, Gwen peeked out from behind her father's legs and was struck with a kind of awe. Camelot had a princess, and she was beautiful.
She started work in the castle soon after her mother died, carrying dirtied laundry from the rooms of the nobility and returning it when it was clean. The laundresses treated her kindly enough, patting her head and smiling at her when they weren't too harried, but she missed her mum awfully and there was little they could do about that.
She lingered over Morgana's dresses most, staring at them wide-eyed and barely daring to touch some of the more fine, silken fabrics. She would sometimes hold them up in front of her and dream, and then smile sadly at herself. Silly fantasy.
She was sliding them into the wardrobe one day, one by one, when she heard a small, broken noise behind her.
She turned searching the room for the source of the sound, and it came again, from behind the bed. She approached on tiptoes to find Morgana curled up on the floor, her long hair everywhere, clad in nothing but a simple shift (although even the shift was more elaborate than anything Gwen herself had ever worn). Her hands were clutched over her face and Gwen was struck by how thin she was, how pale, like ivory or porcelain. The knobs of her spine showed through the thin shift, and Gwen let out a little "oh!" when she realized she was crying.
Morgana spun, her fist immediately rubbing at the tears in her tired eyes. Gwen leapt away, dropping her eyes and curtseying, a bit wobbly. "I'm so sorry, my lady, I was just returning the laundry, when I heard you - I mean, I didn't hear anything, I'll just - I'll go -"
"It's alright," Morgana said. Her voice had a strange lilt to it, like music. "You...you can stay, if you want."
Gwen's eyes widened, still staring at the floor. Stay? She curtseyed again, and took a few steps toward Morgana before freezing, unsure of the protocol. "Yes, m'lady."
Morgana took a long breath and scrubbed at her face, coming around the bed to sit on it on Gwen's side. "What's your name?"
"Gwen." Gwen said, and then bit her lip. "Well, Guinevere, but my friends call me - I mean, not that I'd presume to be your friend, but - "
"Gwen." Morgana said, and her lips twitched, as if she couldn't quite remember how to smile. Gwen forgot to look at the floor. "I'd...Could you be my friend? I don't...have many, here." She paused, and then said, softer, "Or at all."
Gwen stared at her, and then grinned, huge and delighted. Friend. Friend to a Princess. She bobbed yet another curtsey. "I would be honored, m'lady!"
Morgana wiped at her eyes, again, and Gwen's smile faded. "Um," She said, and wondered at her audacity. "Then...as a friend, m'lady, might I ask what's wrong?"
Morgana's face turned angry, pinched and furious. "I hate it here." She said, venomous. "I hate being...shoved into these stupid dresses and the dancing and the endless lessons on etiquette."
Gwen stared at her. "But...but you're a Princess." She said. "Everyone wants to be you."
"Well, they're welcome to it! Let me be them!" She sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "No one will even talk to me, like they're afraid I'll bite them." She bared her teeth, perfect and pearly, and Gwen gave her a nervous glance. "See?" Morgana said, bitter. "You...you won't even sit next to me, and you're my friend!"
Gwen hesitantly crossed to her, folding her simple skirts under her legs and hopping up onto the bed. She smiled. "There. See?" But she didn't touch her, because Morgana was a princess and she was a laundry girl and friendship only meant so much.
Morgana gave her an unreadable glance. Gwen stared at the floor again, blushing.
They sat in awkward silence, Morgana sitting hunched over, curled into herself, Gwen sitting poker-straight and nervous. Finally Gwen said, "Where are you from, where you're not treated like royalty?" She couldn't imagine Morgana being anything but a Princess. Everything about her said beauty, said grace, said power.
"My father was a knight." She said, softly. "He was posted far in the north, he and his small company. I stayed there, at the outpost, and I helped them. They taught me a little - archery, staff-fighting, sword-fighting - and I took care of their horses. I thought..I could stay with them, but..."
Gwen was looking at her again, full to bursting with admiration. "You're a battle maiden." She breathed.
Morgana made a frustrated noise. "I don't want to be any kind of maiden! I want to be a knight. I want to...to do great deeds and slay great evils and stand for justice and truth!" She subsided a little. "I want to make my father proud."
The sadness in her voice was too much, and Gwen put a hand over hers despite herself. Morgana looked at her, and Gwen dropped her eyes and started to pull away, but Morgana clutched her fingers. Her hands were cold and thin. Gwen bit her lip. "What happened to him?"
Morgana's voice went flat. "He was...reassigned. Sent on a more dangerous mission." She met Gwen's eyes, emotionless. "He died."
Gwen's eyes filled with tears. "Oh." She said, softly. "You...you can share mine, if you like. He's just a blacksmith, nothing like as noble as a knight, but he's good and strong and honest and he makes fine weaponry, even the king says so, and you wouldn't be too ashamed of him, I promise - "
Morgana was staring at her, grey-blue eyes complicated with emotion. "I wouldn't be ashamed at all." She said firmly.
There was a gasp from the doorway. "Guenivere." Said a shocked voice, and Gwen leapt up to find the housekeeper staring at her in shock. "My lady, I'm so sorry, she doesn't know what she's doing, I'll be sure to beat this nonsense out of her immediately." The housekeeper curtseyed so low Gwen thought her nose might touch her knee, and then fixed Gwen with a glare like steel.
Gwen risked a miserable glance at Morgana, and blinked at what she saw.
Gone was the trembling, sobbing girl, or even the fiery battle maiden. Morgana stood tall, back straight, her hands graciously at her waist, making the thin shift look like the finest dress of a Fae Lady. She caught the housekeeper's eye, and in a voice that fairly crackled with courtesy said, "I was just discussing Guinevere's new employment as my maidservant. If you would be so kind as to inform Miss LaBry that her services are no longer needed?"
The housekeeper gaped at her, and then at Gwen, and then back at Morgana. "But, m'lady, she's so young, surely Miss LaBry has more experience with such a delicate - "
"Miss LaBry," Morgana begins, and Gwen's surprised to see just the smallest twinkle of mischief in her eye, "Has absolutely no fashion sense, a clumsy hand with a brush, and a tongue that talks both too freely and too foolishly. I have been told that I am to have free reign in the choice of servants, if those provided proved to be unsatisfactory. Is that...incorrect?"
The housekeeper dropped her eyes, her jaw clenched. "No, m'lady."
Morgana nodded, sharp. "Then it shall be Gwen. I expect her back here at dawn tomorrow. And find her a new dress. I will not have my maidservant showing patches at her elbows."
The housekeeper took Gwen's elbow in an iron grip. "Yes, m'lady." She said, acidly, and shoved Gwen in front of her, out of the room, with a last curtsey. Gwen glanced back at Morgana, and could have sworn that the lady's eyelashes fluttered in a wink.
***
Things changed, after that. Gwen still missed her mother, with an ache in her heart she wasn't sure would ever completely fade. She still saw the laundresses, and they still paused to throw her a smile when they could. But now it was only Morgana's things that she took to them, and their smiles were full of pride rather than pity.
She found she vastly preferred it that way.
Morgana herself was utterly perplexing. The way that Gwen eventually began to think about it was that there were really two Morgana's. One was Princess Morgana, perfectly composed, utterly polite, but with a wicked sense of humor. The other was...well, Gwen could only call her Real Morgana, who was small and scared and lonely and above all sad, and wanted nothing so much as to be away up north with the horses and hills.
Princess Morgana was an excellent mistress, full of kind words and encouraging comments when Gwen, so new at this, slipped up. But more than anything Gwen wanted to befriend Real Morgana, who had nigh-vanished since that first afternoon. She wanted to make Real Morgana smile, wanted to convince her that there was good here, too, that there was fun.
The only time Morgana seemed to be having fun is when she was dueling with Arthur.
She'd gotten a practice blade, somewhere, and somehow convinced Arthur (who in Gwen's opinion was not at all how a Prince should be, and a huge, insufferable prat, except for the parts where he was exactly what a Prince should be. Gods, this whole family muddled her head) that she was a worthy opponent.
After their first fight, he remained convinced, and Gwen was smitten.
Morgana fought like she was dancing, the sword part of her, her opponent her partner as well as her foe. She was light on her feet and she was fast, and Gwen watched, fascinated, as she broke away from a quick flurry of blows, and was amazed to see she was grinning.
"Come on, Arthur," She taunted, a note of pure joy in her voice that Gwen had never heard before. "Frightened of a lady?"
Arthur snarled and rushed her. Morgana glided sideways, leaving a long leg outstretched, and Arthur barely managed to catch himself before he fell, stumbling in a clash of armor. Morgana laughed, a sound like bells, and Gwen's heart leapt.
Arthur's eyes narrowed and he came at her again. They traded cautious blows for a long time before Arthur did something complicated with the tip of his sword and Morgana's hilt and managed to disarm her, one hand clutching her shoulder, blade at her throat. "Yield?" He growled.
She smirked, and punched him in the face.
He stumbled away from her, shaking his head to clear it and in amazement. There was something in his eyes like respect, as he looked up at her, and he lowered his sword. "If this leaves a mark..." He said warningly, running a hand over his jaw, and Morgana raised her eyebrows at him in challenge.
He scowled at her and stalked off. As soon as he'd gone Gwen ran forward and threw herself at Morgana, clutching her close and laughing. "You were incredible, I knew you could do it, I thought he was going to kill you, gods m'lady, it was such a beautiful fight." She realized she was crushing Morgana into her neck and she let her go with a squeak, her hands flying to her mouth. "I- I'm sorry, I just - "
"It's alright." Morgana said, and maybe it was just the repetition from that first day, months ago, but as Gwen studied her smiling face she thought, yes, this is Real Morgana, and she's happy.
She couldn't help but want to touch those curved lips, remember with her fingers such a rare beauty as Morgana's true smile. But it was a foolish thought, and she was a foolish girl for thinking it. She stepped back and helped Morgana out of her soldier's britches and back into her dresses, and once her hair was coiffed and her laces done she was back to being Princess Morgana and the moment was gone.
Soon Gwen grew tall enough that some of the laundresses had to reach up to pat her on the head, and Morgana was even taller, a regal young lady, her skin still so pale and her eyes still so sad but she had a bearing of strength about her that made Gwen hope. She laughed more, now, and smiled more, and sometimes it was even Real her that smiled.
The autumn air was crisp outside as Gwen ran a brush through Morgana's hair, readying her for bed. The Court was abuzz with preparation for the tournament. Arthur was finally of age to compete, and Morgana finally of age to be the prize. Gwen's hands shook as she thought of it. A tournament, and a true ball...like a story.
"Just think of it, m'lady!" She placed the brush down to untangle a particularly difficult knot. "Soon enough knights will be arriving from all over the kingdom, competing against each other in great feats of arms! And the best and the bravest will be all yours, on the dance floor."
Morgana smiled at her from the mirror. "I suppose he shall," She said, sounding more amused at Gwen's excitement than excited herself.
The next day she was subdued, tired, her face drawn and wan. Gwen pressed in close to her side at the feast, fixing her with a worried stare whenever Morgana chanced to look her direction. Morgana smiled at her reassuringly, but it didn't meet her eyes, and she avoided Gwen's questions for the rest of the day.
When Gwen came to attend her the morning after that, she found Morgana already awake, half-sitting up under the bedclothes, her eye haunted and staring. Gwen had to knock on the bedpost before Morgana noticed she was there.
"M'lady..." Gwen began, as Morgana looked at her without recognition. "What's wrong?"
"Dreams." Morgana said, the single word loaded with such emotion that it made Gwen shiver. "Nightmares," she amended, and then slowly met Gwen's eyes. "Nightmares such as I haven't seen since....my father."
Gwen sat on the bed beside her. "Dreams can be frightening things, m'lady," She said, cautiously. "But they're naught but shadows. Surely a little sun can banish them." She squeezed Morgana's hand in her own. "Come. We'll get you ready to look your best for the knights out there, the jousting begins today."
"The jousting." Morgana's eyes went a little wild. "When do they start? Quick, Gwen!"
Gwen blinked at her, taken aback at her urgency. "When the sun clears the treetops."
Morgana rushed to the window in a flap of nightclothes. It was dawn, yet, the sun red as blood where it peeked through the dense forest. The sky was pale and blue, hinting of a day hot and bright. Morgana nodded and composed herself. "Guinevere, I need you to do something for me."
There was a steel in her gaze, a desperate rasp in her voice, that Gwen had never heard, before. Her answer was immediate. "Anything."
*****
The stables were nearly empty by the time she got there, the visiting knight's squires and servants taking their knight's mount off to have them brushed and combed, to ready them for the tournament. Arthur's stallion was gone, but his tack and saddle still hung on the wall, the golden lion rampant upon the scarlet field. Gwen pressed her back against the wall as a guard passed by, her heart hammering, and then darted out to snatch it from its hook. She felt the underside of the saddle with careful trembling fingers. And there - just where Morgana said it would be - a thin needle of glass, so fine she doubted the horse would have even felt it slide into its muscle. She was careful not to touch its tip as she removed it, wrapping it in her skirt and carrying it through the halls.
She counted doorways as she passed them, one, two, three and then down the stairwell, then two more. She knocked on the correct door and waited, letting herself carefully and quietly panic for a moment, until it opened with a creak.
An old man with an expressive face currently contorted into a scowl stood and stared at her. Behind him, the walls of the room were covered in books, more books than anywhere except the royal library. Strange apparatuses and machines of metal and glass filled the center of the room. Bottles and jars full of strange bubbling liquids were piled at carefully specific angles and dripped into one another with almost musical rhythm.
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Well, girl? Are you going to stand there wasting my time or do you want to tell me why you've come?"
Gwen shook herself. "I - I've come on behalf of the Lady Morgana. I'm her maidservant, Guini - "
"Yes, I know who you are." The old man - Gaius, Morgana had said - sighed, and opened the door wider, stepping back to let her pass. "Come in."
Gwen did, looking around nervously. Gaius puttered about a moment. "Is it nightmares, again?" He asked. "Or I suppose she's calling them headaches now."
Gwen stared at him. "Um, actually." She unfolded her skirts and placed the needle on his workbench. "It's about this. I found it on the underside of Arthur's saddle, the ceremonial one meant for the tournament."
Gaius stared at it. "Don't touch the tip." Gwen warned. "Morgana, uh, she said...she said it might be poisoned."
Gaius sat back in his chair, meeting her worried eyes. "Indeed it might." He turned and started rummaging in a drawer, casting glances back at Gwen. "How did the Lady Morgana come to believe such a thing?"
Gwen pressed her lips together. Morgana had been so certain - and the needle had been there, just as she said. "She...she said she dreamed it." She watched as Gaius used a pair of tongs to pick up the glass needle and place it on a copper tray. "But...how is that possible?"
Gaius looked at her for a long moment. "The Lady Morgana is a special young woman, Guinivere. Perhaps more than any of us know."
Gwen smiled at that. She knew how special Morgana was, how unlike anyone else in the world, how impossible. She supposed that one more impossible thing was not too much to expect from her.
She watched Gaius work for a few moments in silence, and then said "You said nightmares again." She frowned. "But Morgana said she hadn't had dreams like this since her father died."
Gaius raised his eyebrows, looking at her like her father might examine a jewel for its worth. "Ah. Did she? Well. When she first arrived in Camelot, your Lady was plagued by awful night-terrors. Not unusual for her a girl her age who had been through so much. I prescribed her a simple remedy, although there wasn't much I could do." He shook his head sadly. "They stopped, recently after she employed you. I thought perhaps something about you..." He shook his head. "An old man's foolish hopes."
He poured something green and swirling into a thin vial. "Still, better that you return to her side. Give her this for the headache, and tell her...if it's nothing, I'll send for you. But if she's seen truth....I shall go straight to the king."
Gwen swallowed and took the vial, nodding resolutely.
*****
That night, Arthur's manservant was put in the jails. Morgana slept peacefully, Gwen sleeping outside her door in case...well, just in case. In the morning she watched with Morgana as the manservant was beheaded. Gwen turned away, sickened, but Morgana stared with a fascination that was almost like fear.
The martial combat part of the tournament was that day, and Morgana and Gwen watched from the stands as Arthur fought and defeated knight after knight. Again Morgana slept peacefully, and again Gwen was there if she didn't.
She kept hearing Gaius' words in her head. I thought perhaps there was something about you.. She didn't dare think it true, but there was a part of her that was certain that as long as she was there, as long as she was watchful, Morgana would be fine.
*****
Arthur won the tournament.
It was no real surprise to anyone, really, and of course Gwen was happy. She certainly didn't want to watch him fail. But somehow seeing him dancing with Morgana made her want to cry. They were happy - the kind of happy that only Arthur and Morgana could be, sniping at one another and smirking and acting generally superior. And they were gorgeous together, picture-perfect.
Story perfect.
The hall was too hot, the candles and lanterns too bright. She fled, pressing herself up against the cool stone of the courtyard walls, and stared up at the sky. Arthur was...Arthur was the only other one who had ever seen Morgana happy, Real Morgana - had made her happy, even. He was the only other one who consistently made her laugh, made her smile. Gwen was happy for them. Of course she was. She ignored how bitter her happiness was, in the back of her throat.
She took a deep breath and headed back inside. Morgana would need her, when she was done dancing. She had her place, her duties. She hurried down the halls towards Morgana's chambers, stopping when she heard a low murmur of a voice. She peered around the corner and saw Arthur leaning in Morgana's doorway, his golden hair framed against the torchlight. Beyond him, Morgana stood, her hair a fall of darkness over her shoulder, her pale neck exposed. She was wearing green, all the colors of the forest in summertime, and she tossed her head at something Arthur said. Gwen ached for her, and shut her eyes tightly when Arthur took a step forward.
She fled further than the courtyard, this time, running until the grass was cool on her feet and the sky was wide above her. She stayed on the lawns, staring at the night, until her dress was soaked with dew, until the sky began to turn light in the east. She wiped her face with a sodden sleeve and slipped inside.
Morgana was sitting up in bed, her eyes tired, and for an awful moment Gwen thought she'd had another nightmare. Her hand flew to her mouth - her fault, gods it was her fault, she hadn't been there - but when Morgana saw her her face split into a relieved smile. "Gwen!" She cried, and Gwen stepped hesitantly into the room, confused. "I was worried about you. And - dear girl, what's happened to your clothes?"
Gwen blushed. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, m'lady. I...I..." She searched for something, anything, to explain herself. "I g-guess I had a bit too much wine, and...and I needed some air, and I fell asleep outside, and - "
"Guinivere." Morgana caught her eyes. "Please don't lie to me."
Gwen swallowed. Yesterday she'd never have considered having reason to. "No, my lady." She said, softly.
Morgana beckoned her, and she went. With hands so gentle Gwen could cry, Morgana brushed her hair back from her forehead. She slid her thumb across Gwen's cheekbones, feeling the grit her tears had left behind. "What happened?" She asked, her voice full of concern, and Gwen's heart hurt.
She shook her head. "I'm just...just a foolish girl." She said, trying to smile. "Having trouble letting dreams die, though they have no more place in the world."
Morgana looked at her for a long moment. "Some dreams should be fought for." Her hands were still on Gwen's neck, warm and dry and impossibly soft.
Gwen had a moment's mad vision of her facing off against Arthur, huge sword clumsy in her grip, and Morgana between them between them like a prize. She giggled, and Morgana smiled back, puzzled. Gwen shook her head, and something in Morgana's eyes flickered and went out.
She dropped her hands, and looked away from Gwen's face. "I see." She said, and stood. "You are, of course, allowed your secrets, Gwen." Her voice was wistful, sad. "I merely thought -"
Gwen's fists clenched in the bedding. "I saw you and Arthur."
Morgana turned, eyebrows raised. "Arthur and I?"
"In your rooms. and I..."She took a deep breath. "I realized that I stopped thinking of you as a Princess a long time ago, m'lady, and started...started seeing you as a knight." Morgana was looking at her with dark, surprised eyes. Gwen dropped her own, studying the floor. "And...and I know it is still presumptuous of a servant such as myself to love a knight but it is...it is perhaps better than if she loved a Princess."
Morgana approached her and caught her under the chin with long fingers. "And does she, the maiden, love the knight?" She asked, softly.
Gwen nodded, swallowing around her fear, her tears. "More than anything."
Morgana smiled. It was the Real Morgana smile, the smile that Gwen wanted frozen in her mind forever, pure sweetness and joy. Gwen trembled to see it, and dared not think of what it meant.
"Then the story goes a'right." Morgana said, her hands tracing up to cup Gwen's face. "For the knight loves the lady just as well." And she leaned down, pressing her lips to Gwen's. Her lips were soft, softer than anything Gwen had ever felt, and she leaned in closer, her hands settling at Morgana's waist.
When Morgana pulled away, eyes soft and amused and not even a trace sad, Gwen stared at her. "But Arthur - "
Morgana chuckled. "Arthur is a fine man, and a good prince. Someday he may even be a great king. But I do not want a fine man." She licked her lips, a hand tracing down Gwen's throat. "Why would I want for anything, when I have you?"
Gwen blushed. "You can't mean that, m'lady. I'm naught but a servant, I - "
Morgana placed a finger on her lips. "Shh. No servant. You are my maiden, and you are beautiful and gracious and kind. You are brave and devoted and generous and you have taught me how to live again." Her eyes were dancing with fun, and Gwen couldn't remember a time when she'd seen Morgana happier. "Now. If I let you speak, we'll have no more nonsense about not being good enough, yes?"
Gwen nodded, eyes welling up with tears, and kissed Morgana's finger before she pulled it away. Morgana smiled and leaned her forehead down to Gwen's. "Thank you." Gwen said, a breath against her lips. Morgana kissed her again, slowly and sweetly, and then stepped back.
"Well." She said. "Quite a day we have in front of us. The ambassador from Mydara is arriving. I hear he has the fashion sense of a blind dancing-girl, but that doesn't mean the rest of us have to laze about, does it, my maiden?"
Flustered, Gwen ran to the wardrobe. "Of course not, m'lady."
Morgana caught her arm as she passed. "Of course...I'd much rather stay in, get you out of those wet clothes." She murmured into Gwen's ear. "But duty calls. The burdens of being a princess."
Gwen stared at her, wide-eyed. She couldn't help but swallow at the images conjured by Morgana's dark, flirtatious tone. Finally she shook herself, blushing furiously, and busied herself with the gown, muttering, "I hate princesses."
Wordcount: ~4000
Pairing/Characters: Morgana/Gwen, Morgana/Arthur (kinda sorta not really), Gaius
Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own these characters.
Note: Written for the Fall Fandom Free-For-All over at oxoniensis, for krazykipper 's prompt "Fic, Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, how did Gwen come to be Morgana's handmaiden?" It got, uh, a little longer than that, but I don't think you'll mind?
Gwen didn't remember much about her mother. She remembered long, sweeping skirts, soothing hands, a laugh like bubbling water. And mostly, she remembered the stories.
Every night, her mother would sit her down in bed and pull the old blanket over her. The coarse wool of it scratched against her bare skin, making her feel warm and strange and dream-like, and her mother's soft voice would carry her away. She would tell stories of great knights, of heroic battles, even speak wistfully of the days when traveling magicians would pass through without fear of losing their heads, of the light shows, the empty suits of armor that would fight each other to a standstill, the hawks with eyes of flame, the fish that spoke with men's voices. But it was the tales of love that Gwen liked best, because at the center of every tale of love, whether it have a tragic ending or happy, whether lovers were found or lost, was a princess.
Gwen loved to hear about princesses. She loved when her mother described the great dances, and she would always make her stop and go back to them, asking sleepy, wondering questions ("What was Princess Mara wearing? Diamonds? But wasn't Princess Elena jealous? I would be.") and pressing for details about the long looks shared between a princess and her chosen knight. And when her mother told her about the battle maidens of the far north, who wielded swords like men and slew giants, Gwen sat bolt upright and decided that princesses were the most perfect things in the world.
So when the Lady Morgana was introduced to the court, her tiny, pale face set and sorrowful, Gwen peeked out from behind her father's legs and was struck with a kind of awe. Camelot had a princess, and she was beautiful.
She started work in the castle soon after her mother died, carrying dirtied laundry from the rooms of the nobility and returning it when it was clean. The laundresses treated her kindly enough, patting her head and smiling at her when they weren't too harried, but she missed her mum awfully and there was little they could do about that.
She lingered over Morgana's dresses most, staring at them wide-eyed and barely daring to touch some of the more fine, silken fabrics. She would sometimes hold them up in front of her and dream, and then smile sadly at herself. Silly fantasy.
She was sliding them into the wardrobe one day, one by one, when she heard a small, broken noise behind her.
She turned searching the room for the source of the sound, and it came again, from behind the bed. She approached on tiptoes to find Morgana curled up on the floor, her long hair everywhere, clad in nothing but a simple shift (although even the shift was more elaborate than anything Gwen herself had ever worn). Her hands were clutched over her face and Gwen was struck by how thin she was, how pale, like ivory or porcelain. The knobs of her spine showed through the thin shift, and Gwen let out a little "oh!" when she realized she was crying.
Morgana spun, her fist immediately rubbing at the tears in her tired eyes. Gwen leapt away, dropping her eyes and curtseying, a bit wobbly. "I'm so sorry, my lady, I was just returning the laundry, when I heard you - I mean, I didn't hear anything, I'll just - I'll go -"
"It's alright," Morgana said. Her voice had a strange lilt to it, like music. "You...you can stay, if you want."
Gwen's eyes widened, still staring at the floor. Stay? She curtseyed again, and took a few steps toward Morgana before freezing, unsure of the protocol. "Yes, m'lady."
Morgana took a long breath and scrubbed at her face, coming around the bed to sit on it on Gwen's side. "What's your name?"
"Gwen." Gwen said, and then bit her lip. "Well, Guinevere, but my friends call me - I mean, not that I'd presume to be your friend, but - "
"Gwen." Morgana said, and her lips twitched, as if she couldn't quite remember how to smile. Gwen forgot to look at the floor. "I'd...Could you be my friend? I don't...have many, here." She paused, and then said, softer, "Or at all."
Gwen stared at her, and then grinned, huge and delighted. Friend. Friend to a Princess. She bobbed yet another curtsey. "I would be honored, m'lady!"
Morgana wiped at her eyes, again, and Gwen's smile faded. "Um," She said, and wondered at her audacity. "Then...as a friend, m'lady, might I ask what's wrong?"
Morgana's face turned angry, pinched and furious. "I hate it here." She said, venomous. "I hate being...shoved into these stupid dresses and the dancing and the endless lessons on etiquette."
Gwen stared at her. "But...but you're a Princess." She said. "Everyone wants to be you."
"Well, they're welcome to it! Let me be them!" She sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "No one will even talk to me, like they're afraid I'll bite them." She bared her teeth, perfect and pearly, and Gwen gave her a nervous glance. "See?" Morgana said, bitter. "You...you won't even sit next to me, and you're my friend!"
Gwen hesitantly crossed to her, folding her simple skirts under her legs and hopping up onto the bed. She smiled. "There. See?" But she didn't touch her, because Morgana was a princess and she was a laundry girl and friendship only meant so much.
Morgana gave her an unreadable glance. Gwen stared at the floor again, blushing.
They sat in awkward silence, Morgana sitting hunched over, curled into herself, Gwen sitting poker-straight and nervous. Finally Gwen said, "Where are you from, where you're not treated like royalty?" She couldn't imagine Morgana being anything but a Princess. Everything about her said beauty, said grace, said power.
"My father was a knight." She said, softly. "He was posted far in the north, he and his small company. I stayed there, at the outpost, and I helped them. They taught me a little - archery, staff-fighting, sword-fighting - and I took care of their horses. I thought..I could stay with them, but..."
Gwen was looking at her again, full to bursting with admiration. "You're a battle maiden." She breathed.
Morgana made a frustrated noise. "I don't want to be any kind of maiden! I want to be a knight. I want to...to do great deeds and slay great evils and stand for justice and truth!" She subsided a little. "I want to make my father proud."
The sadness in her voice was too much, and Gwen put a hand over hers despite herself. Morgana looked at her, and Gwen dropped her eyes and started to pull away, but Morgana clutched her fingers. Her hands were cold and thin. Gwen bit her lip. "What happened to him?"
Morgana's voice went flat. "He was...reassigned. Sent on a more dangerous mission." She met Gwen's eyes, emotionless. "He died."
Gwen's eyes filled with tears. "Oh." She said, softly. "You...you can share mine, if you like. He's just a blacksmith, nothing like as noble as a knight, but he's good and strong and honest and he makes fine weaponry, even the king says so, and you wouldn't be too ashamed of him, I promise - "
Morgana was staring at her, grey-blue eyes complicated with emotion. "I wouldn't be ashamed at all." She said firmly.
There was a gasp from the doorway. "Guenivere." Said a shocked voice, and Gwen leapt up to find the housekeeper staring at her in shock. "My lady, I'm so sorry, she doesn't know what she's doing, I'll be sure to beat this nonsense out of her immediately." The housekeeper curtseyed so low Gwen thought her nose might touch her knee, and then fixed Gwen with a glare like steel.
Gwen risked a miserable glance at Morgana, and blinked at what she saw.
Gone was the trembling, sobbing girl, or even the fiery battle maiden. Morgana stood tall, back straight, her hands graciously at her waist, making the thin shift look like the finest dress of a Fae Lady. She caught the housekeeper's eye, and in a voice that fairly crackled with courtesy said, "I was just discussing Guinevere's new employment as my maidservant. If you would be so kind as to inform Miss LaBry that her services are no longer needed?"
The housekeeper gaped at her, and then at Gwen, and then back at Morgana. "But, m'lady, she's so young, surely Miss LaBry has more experience with such a delicate - "
"Miss LaBry," Morgana begins, and Gwen's surprised to see just the smallest twinkle of mischief in her eye, "Has absolutely no fashion sense, a clumsy hand with a brush, and a tongue that talks both too freely and too foolishly. I have been told that I am to have free reign in the choice of servants, if those provided proved to be unsatisfactory. Is that...incorrect?"
The housekeeper dropped her eyes, her jaw clenched. "No, m'lady."
Morgana nodded, sharp. "Then it shall be Gwen. I expect her back here at dawn tomorrow. And find her a new dress. I will not have my maidservant showing patches at her elbows."
The housekeeper took Gwen's elbow in an iron grip. "Yes, m'lady." She said, acidly, and shoved Gwen in front of her, out of the room, with a last curtsey. Gwen glanced back at Morgana, and could have sworn that the lady's eyelashes fluttered in a wink.
***
Things changed, after that. Gwen still missed her mother, with an ache in her heart she wasn't sure would ever completely fade. She still saw the laundresses, and they still paused to throw her a smile when they could. But now it was only Morgana's things that she took to them, and their smiles were full of pride rather than pity.
She found she vastly preferred it that way.
Morgana herself was utterly perplexing. The way that Gwen eventually began to think about it was that there were really two Morgana's. One was Princess Morgana, perfectly composed, utterly polite, but with a wicked sense of humor. The other was...well, Gwen could only call her Real Morgana, who was small and scared and lonely and above all sad, and wanted nothing so much as to be away up north with the horses and hills.
Princess Morgana was an excellent mistress, full of kind words and encouraging comments when Gwen, so new at this, slipped up. But more than anything Gwen wanted to befriend Real Morgana, who had nigh-vanished since that first afternoon. She wanted to make Real Morgana smile, wanted to convince her that there was good here, too, that there was fun.
The only time Morgana seemed to be having fun is when she was dueling with Arthur.
She'd gotten a practice blade, somewhere, and somehow convinced Arthur (who in Gwen's opinion was not at all how a Prince should be, and a huge, insufferable prat, except for the parts where he was exactly what a Prince should be. Gods, this whole family muddled her head) that she was a worthy opponent.
After their first fight, he remained convinced, and Gwen was smitten.
Morgana fought like she was dancing, the sword part of her, her opponent her partner as well as her foe. She was light on her feet and she was fast, and Gwen watched, fascinated, as she broke away from a quick flurry of blows, and was amazed to see she was grinning.
"Come on, Arthur," She taunted, a note of pure joy in her voice that Gwen had never heard before. "Frightened of a lady?"
Arthur snarled and rushed her. Morgana glided sideways, leaving a long leg outstretched, and Arthur barely managed to catch himself before he fell, stumbling in a clash of armor. Morgana laughed, a sound like bells, and Gwen's heart leapt.
Arthur's eyes narrowed and he came at her again. They traded cautious blows for a long time before Arthur did something complicated with the tip of his sword and Morgana's hilt and managed to disarm her, one hand clutching her shoulder, blade at her throat. "Yield?" He growled.
She smirked, and punched him in the face.
He stumbled away from her, shaking his head to clear it and in amazement. There was something in his eyes like respect, as he looked up at her, and he lowered his sword. "If this leaves a mark..." He said warningly, running a hand over his jaw, and Morgana raised her eyebrows at him in challenge.
He scowled at her and stalked off. As soon as he'd gone Gwen ran forward and threw herself at Morgana, clutching her close and laughing. "You were incredible, I knew you could do it, I thought he was going to kill you, gods m'lady, it was such a beautiful fight." She realized she was crushing Morgana into her neck and she let her go with a squeak, her hands flying to her mouth. "I- I'm sorry, I just - "
"It's alright." Morgana said, and maybe it was just the repetition from that first day, months ago, but as Gwen studied her smiling face she thought, yes, this is Real Morgana, and she's happy.
She couldn't help but want to touch those curved lips, remember with her fingers such a rare beauty as Morgana's true smile. But it was a foolish thought, and she was a foolish girl for thinking it. She stepped back and helped Morgana out of her soldier's britches and back into her dresses, and once her hair was coiffed and her laces done she was back to being Princess Morgana and the moment was gone.
Soon Gwen grew tall enough that some of the laundresses had to reach up to pat her on the head, and Morgana was even taller, a regal young lady, her skin still so pale and her eyes still so sad but she had a bearing of strength about her that made Gwen hope. She laughed more, now, and smiled more, and sometimes it was even Real her that smiled.
The autumn air was crisp outside as Gwen ran a brush through Morgana's hair, readying her for bed. The Court was abuzz with preparation for the tournament. Arthur was finally of age to compete, and Morgana finally of age to be the prize. Gwen's hands shook as she thought of it. A tournament, and a true ball...like a story.
"Just think of it, m'lady!" She placed the brush down to untangle a particularly difficult knot. "Soon enough knights will be arriving from all over the kingdom, competing against each other in great feats of arms! And the best and the bravest will be all yours, on the dance floor."
Morgana smiled at her from the mirror. "I suppose he shall," She said, sounding more amused at Gwen's excitement than excited herself.
The next day she was subdued, tired, her face drawn and wan. Gwen pressed in close to her side at the feast, fixing her with a worried stare whenever Morgana chanced to look her direction. Morgana smiled at her reassuringly, but it didn't meet her eyes, and she avoided Gwen's questions for the rest of the day.
When Gwen came to attend her the morning after that, she found Morgana already awake, half-sitting up under the bedclothes, her eye haunted and staring. Gwen had to knock on the bedpost before Morgana noticed she was there.
"M'lady..." Gwen began, as Morgana looked at her without recognition. "What's wrong?"
"Dreams." Morgana said, the single word loaded with such emotion that it made Gwen shiver. "Nightmares," she amended, and then slowly met Gwen's eyes. "Nightmares such as I haven't seen since....my father."
Gwen sat on the bed beside her. "Dreams can be frightening things, m'lady," She said, cautiously. "But they're naught but shadows. Surely a little sun can banish them." She squeezed Morgana's hand in her own. "Come. We'll get you ready to look your best for the knights out there, the jousting begins today."
"The jousting." Morgana's eyes went a little wild. "When do they start? Quick, Gwen!"
Gwen blinked at her, taken aback at her urgency. "When the sun clears the treetops."
Morgana rushed to the window in a flap of nightclothes. It was dawn, yet, the sun red as blood where it peeked through the dense forest. The sky was pale and blue, hinting of a day hot and bright. Morgana nodded and composed herself. "Guinevere, I need you to do something for me."
There was a steel in her gaze, a desperate rasp in her voice, that Gwen had never heard, before. Her answer was immediate. "Anything."
*****
The stables were nearly empty by the time she got there, the visiting knight's squires and servants taking their knight's mount off to have them brushed and combed, to ready them for the tournament. Arthur's stallion was gone, but his tack and saddle still hung on the wall, the golden lion rampant upon the scarlet field. Gwen pressed her back against the wall as a guard passed by, her heart hammering, and then darted out to snatch it from its hook. She felt the underside of the saddle with careful trembling fingers. And there - just where Morgana said it would be - a thin needle of glass, so fine she doubted the horse would have even felt it slide into its muscle. She was careful not to touch its tip as she removed it, wrapping it in her skirt and carrying it through the halls.
She counted doorways as she passed them, one, two, three and then down the stairwell, then two more. She knocked on the correct door and waited, letting herself carefully and quietly panic for a moment, until it opened with a creak.
An old man with an expressive face currently contorted into a scowl stood and stared at her. Behind him, the walls of the room were covered in books, more books than anywhere except the royal library. Strange apparatuses and machines of metal and glass filled the center of the room. Bottles and jars full of strange bubbling liquids were piled at carefully specific angles and dripped into one another with almost musical rhythm.
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Well, girl? Are you going to stand there wasting my time or do you want to tell me why you've come?"
Gwen shook herself. "I - I've come on behalf of the Lady Morgana. I'm her maidservant, Guini - "
"Yes, I know who you are." The old man - Gaius, Morgana had said - sighed, and opened the door wider, stepping back to let her pass. "Come in."
Gwen did, looking around nervously. Gaius puttered about a moment. "Is it nightmares, again?" He asked. "Or I suppose she's calling them headaches now."
Gwen stared at him. "Um, actually." She unfolded her skirts and placed the needle on his workbench. "It's about this. I found it on the underside of Arthur's saddle, the ceremonial one meant for the tournament."
Gaius stared at it. "Don't touch the tip." Gwen warned. "Morgana, uh, she said...she said it might be poisoned."
Gaius sat back in his chair, meeting her worried eyes. "Indeed it might." He turned and started rummaging in a drawer, casting glances back at Gwen. "How did the Lady Morgana come to believe such a thing?"
Gwen pressed her lips together. Morgana had been so certain - and the needle had been there, just as she said. "She...she said she dreamed it." She watched as Gaius used a pair of tongs to pick up the glass needle and place it on a copper tray. "But...how is that possible?"
Gaius looked at her for a long moment. "The Lady Morgana is a special young woman, Guinivere. Perhaps more than any of us know."
Gwen smiled at that. She knew how special Morgana was, how unlike anyone else in the world, how impossible. She supposed that one more impossible thing was not too much to expect from her.
She watched Gaius work for a few moments in silence, and then said "You said nightmares again." She frowned. "But Morgana said she hadn't had dreams like this since her father died."
Gaius raised his eyebrows, looking at her like her father might examine a jewel for its worth. "Ah. Did she? Well. When she first arrived in Camelot, your Lady was plagued by awful night-terrors. Not unusual for her a girl her age who had been through so much. I prescribed her a simple remedy, although there wasn't much I could do." He shook his head sadly. "They stopped, recently after she employed you. I thought perhaps something about you..." He shook his head. "An old man's foolish hopes."
He poured something green and swirling into a thin vial. "Still, better that you return to her side. Give her this for the headache, and tell her...if it's nothing, I'll send for you. But if she's seen truth....I shall go straight to the king."
Gwen swallowed and took the vial, nodding resolutely.
*****
That night, Arthur's manservant was put in the jails. Morgana slept peacefully, Gwen sleeping outside her door in case...well, just in case. In the morning she watched with Morgana as the manservant was beheaded. Gwen turned away, sickened, but Morgana stared with a fascination that was almost like fear.
The martial combat part of the tournament was that day, and Morgana and Gwen watched from the stands as Arthur fought and defeated knight after knight. Again Morgana slept peacefully, and again Gwen was there if she didn't.
She kept hearing Gaius' words in her head. I thought perhaps there was something about you.. She didn't dare think it true, but there was a part of her that was certain that as long as she was there, as long as she was watchful, Morgana would be fine.
*****
Arthur won the tournament.
It was no real surprise to anyone, really, and of course Gwen was happy. She certainly didn't want to watch him fail. But somehow seeing him dancing with Morgana made her want to cry. They were happy - the kind of happy that only Arthur and Morgana could be, sniping at one another and smirking and acting generally superior. And they were gorgeous together, picture-perfect.
Story perfect.
The hall was too hot, the candles and lanterns too bright. She fled, pressing herself up against the cool stone of the courtyard walls, and stared up at the sky. Arthur was...Arthur was the only other one who had ever seen Morgana happy, Real Morgana - had made her happy, even. He was the only other one who consistently made her laugh, made her smile. Gwen was happy for them. Of course she was. She ignored how bitter her happiness was, in the back of her throat.
She took a deep breath and headed back inside. Morgana would need her, when she was done dancing. She had her place, her duties. She hurried down the halls towards Morgana's chambers, stopping when she heard a low murmur of a voice. She peered around the corner and saw Arthur leaning in Morgana's doorway, his golden hair framed against the torchlight. Beyond him, Morgana stood, her hair a fall of darkness over her shoulder, her pale neck exposed. She was wearing green, all the colors of the forest in summertime, and she tossed her head at something Arthur said. Gwen ached for her, and shut her eyes tightly when Arthur took a step forward.
She fled further than the courtyard, this time, running until the grass was cool on her feet and the sky was wide above her. She stayed on the lawns, staring at the night, until her dress was soaked with dew, until the sky began to turn light in the east. She wiped her face with a sodden sleeve and slipped inside.
Morgana was sitting up in bed, her eyes tired, and for an awful moment Gwen thought she'd had another nightmare. Her hand flew to her mouth - her fault, gods it was her fault, she hadn't been there - but when Morgana saw her her face split into a relieved smile. "Gwen!" She cried, and Gwen stepped hesitantly into the room, confused. "I was worried about you. And - dear girl, what's happened to your clothes?"
Gwen blushed. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, m'lady. I...I..." She searched for something, anything, to explain herself. "I g-guess I had a bit too much wine, and...and I needed some air, and I fell asleep outside, and - "
"Guinivere." Morgana caught her eyes. "Please don't lie to me."
Gwen swallowed. Yesterday she'd never have considered having reason to. "No, my lady." She said, softly.
Morgana beckoned her, and she went. With hands so gentle Gwen could cry, Morgana brushed her hair back from her forehead. She slid her thumb across Gwen's cheekbones, feeling the grit her tears had left behind. "What happened?" She asked, her voice full of concern, and Gwen's heart hurt.
She shook her head. "I'm just...just a foolish girl." She said, trying to smile. "Having trouble letting dreams die, though they have no more place in the world."
Morgana looked at her for a long moment. "Some dreams should be fought for." Her hands were still on Gwen's neck, warm and dry and impossibly soft.
Gwen had a moment's mad vision of her facing off against Arthur, huge sword clumsy in her grip, and Morgana between them between them like a prize. She giggled, and Morgana smiled back, puzzled. Gwen shook her head, and something in Morgana's eyes flickered and went out.
She dropped her hands, and looked away from Gwen's face. "I see." She said, and stood. "You are, of course, allowed your secrets, Gwen." Her voice was wistful, sad. "I merely thought -"
Gwen's fists clenched in the bedding. "I saw you and Arthur."
Morgana turned, eyebrows raised. "Arthur and I?"
"In your rooms. and I..."She took a deep breath. "I realized that I stopped thinking of you as a Princess a long time ago, m'lady, and started...started seeing you as a knight." Morgana was looking at her with dark, surprised eyes. Gwen dropped her own, studying the floor. "And...and I know it is still presumptuous of a servant such as myself to love a knight but it is...it is perhaps better than if she loved a Princess."
Morgana approached her and caught her under the chin with long fingers. "And does she, the maiden, love the knight?" She asked, softly.
Gwen nodded, swallowing around her fear, her tears. "More than anything."
Morgana smiled. It was the Real Morgana smile, the smile that Gwen wanted frozen in her mind forever, pure sweetness and joy. Gwen trembled to see it, and dared not think of what it meant.
"Then the story goes a'right." Morgana said, her hands tracing up to cup Gwen's face. "For the knight loves the lady just as well." And she leaned down, pressing her lips to Gwen's. Her lips were soft, softer than anything Gwen had ever felt, and she leaned in closer, her hands settling at Morgana's waist.
When Morgana pulled away, eyes soft and amused and not even a trace sad, Gwen stared at her. "But Arthur - "
Morgana chuckled. "Arthur is a fine man, and a good prince. Someday he may even be a great king. But I do not want a fine man." She licked her lips, a hand tracing down Gwen's throat. "Why would I want for anything, when I have you?"
Gwen blushed. "You can't mean that, m'lady. I'm naught but a servant, I - "
Morgana placed a finger on her lips. "Shh. No servant. You are my maiden, and you are beautiful and gracious and kind. You are brave and devoted and generous and you have taught me how to live again." Her eyes were dancing with fun, and Gwen couldn't remember a time when she'd seen Morgana happier. "Now. If I let you speak, we'll have no more nonsense about not being good enough, yes?"
Gwen nodded, eyes welling up with tears, and kissed Morgana's finger before she pulled it away. Morgana smiled and leaned her forehead down to Gwen's. "Thank you." Gwen said, a breath against her lips. Morgana kissed her again, slowly and sweetly, and then stepped back.
"Well." She said. "Quite a day we have in front of us. The ambassador from Mydara is arriving. I hear he has the fashion sense of a blind dancing-girl, but that doesn't mean the rest of us have to laze about, does it, my maiden?"
Flustered, Gwen ran to the wardrobe. "Of course not, m'lady."
Morgana caught her arm as she passed. "Of course...I'd much rather stay in, get you out of those wet clothes." She murmured into Gwen's ear. "But duty calls. The burdens of being a princess."
Gwen stared at her, wide-eyed. She couldn't help but swallow at the images conjured by Morgana's dark, flirtatious tone. Finally she shook herself, blushing furiously, and busied herself with the gown, muttering, "I hate princesses."