crack!lets (gwen/morgana)
Three Gwen/Morgana ficlets from a two-hour train journey, all unabashedly ridiculous. Apologies & sundry.
Reincarnated!Gwen/Morgana: working for Torchwood (G, 390 words)
"Guns," says Morgana firmly. "Really big ones."
Gwen sighs, and wonders if maybe she'd be happier working with aliens in a more time-friendly slot where weaponry is distinctly disapproved of. "I think," she says, fixing the holster on a small gun nonetheless, "that we should talk to it before we shoot. We don't have to do everything Jack does, you know."
"I know," says Morgana. "Otherwise we'd be trying to get its number first." She waggles her eyebrows, and Gwen thinks Cardiff is really very bad for her girlfriend. "Nice multiple-limbed alien. You know what that'd be good for?"
"Getting a decent score for the Bluebirds on a Saturday night?"
"You're no fun, Guinevere." Gwen hears, rather than sees, the pout, and she steadfastly refuses to turn around and get distracted so she fixes up a strong dose of tranquilisers instead.
"Come on," she says, "that thing will have terrorised half the people on the bay by now."
"And we're going to boldly stride in and deal with the situation?"
Gwen winces. "Probably only half-right," she says.
"Oh, we'll get round to the other half," comforts Morgana. "It might take a bit longer, that's all."
"Long enough to see the sunrise, I'm sure." Gwen thinks it's lovely, she really does, that Jack feels he can go out on a date and leave his seconds-in-command in, well, command, but she is aware that these things are sometimes done faster when they have the whole team around.
"Okay, well," says Morgana, and goes a little pink, "if we manage to persuade it to go home without any fuss... any chance of going for a quiet meal later? "
That's Morgana. Dismisses aliens with the arch of an eyebrow and seriously tries to kill someone in government every other week, but gets stumbly over the sugestion of romance. Gwen smiles, and remembers that for all her shortcomings, Morgana can be pretty adorable sometimes.
"Sounds good," she agrees.
"We can go Weevil hunting if-you-know-what-I-mean," adds Morgana lasciviously, and Gwen revises her opinion completely before setting out to get rid off the monster within the next forty minutes. It might be the twenty-first century, but sometimes, it's like nothing changes.
Gwen/Morgana feat.Arthur: the Frog Princess version (G, 840 words)
Morgana flops onto the bed, dress splaying over the sheets for maximum effect, and sighs dramatically. "I'll never find my princess," she sighs.
Uther smiles at his ward with the expression of a man bound to a homocidal maniac. "I'm sure the right person for you is out there somewhere," he says, and pats her awkwardly on the knee. "You just have to wait."
Morgana launches herself at the window and pouts out, wistfullness exuding off her in great wistful waves. "I shall wish upon the star," she says, and Uther beats a hasty retreat.
Regardless, she gazes up at the North Star, twinkling with serenity and power. Morgana squeezes her eyes shut. "Please let me discover my princess," she beseeches of the plasma ball burning approximately four hundred light years away from her window. "True love, romance, the whole works. Failing that, any sort of action."
Her pleas are interrupted by Merlin bolting into her room, and Morgana jumps up, startled. "Knocking, Merlin --" she begins, then her eyes fall on his hands. Specifically, what he has in each hand.
"You, er," she says delicately, in case Merlin has a very good reason for doing this. "Seem to be carrying amphibians."
"Frogs," specifies Merlin, and looks rather desperate. The creature in his left hand squelches with deliberate unpleasantness, and Merlin winces. He amends, "Not frogs. Er, Arthur and Gwen." He raises each hand limply, and Morgana stares in horror at Merlin's right, where a tiny green frog with a mute expression of singular distress stares up at her.
"How did this --?"
"I did my magic wrong."
"Oh." Morgana would berate, but she knows for herself how unpredictable magic can be: curtains, broken furniture, and that strangely satisfying week Gaius spent voiceless can attest to that. She looks from the frogs to Merlin. "And what do you want me to do about it?"
"Um," says Merlin, and eyes her in a wary kind of way that Morgana knows means she's going to hate what he says next. "The dragon said all it takes is a single kiss, and they'll both be turned into humans again."
Morgana's laugh is tinged with hysteria. "I'm not kissing frogs," she says, horrified. "Sorry Gwen," she adds, and the frog on Merlin's right sinks down into his palm resignedly. "You do it."
"I can't," says Merlin, "the dragon said it has to be a princess."
"I"m the king's ward!"
"Technicalities." Merlin dumps the frogs - Arthur and Gwen - onto Morgana's covers, and beats a hasty retreat. "It only has to be one of them. Thanks, Morgana, you're a real brick!"
As her door swings shut behind him, Morgana reflects that the dragon definitely has it in for her.
She goes to her bed and kneels, much as she did at the window earlier, to stare at Camelot's latest victims. One frog, Arthurness written all over his verdant skin, hops around the bed in a vaguely provocative manner.
"Oh, very persuasive," snips Morgana.
Arthur takes this as a challenge; he starts making his way to her pillows and she lunges at him.
"You are an annoying bastard even when you're a frog, did you know that?" She looks at Gwen. "This must be fun for you."
Gwen's expression betrays infinite weariness; Arthur's mouth falls open in what Morgana is sure is supposed to be a grin. He pokes a chummy, webby foot at Gwen, who edges away discreetly.
Morgana sighs. "I'm only doing this because I don't think Uther will appreciate having to bury your butchered froggy form," she says, and Arthur beams. Decision made, Morgana gets to her feet, and holds her hand out to Gwen. "Hop on."
With an impossible modicum of dignity, Gwen sidles on to Morgana's palm. Her eyes are the same, Morgana thinks desperately, brown and patient. And Gwen is, after all, her best friend in the whole world. There's nothing very weird about this. She glances out of the window, and thinks the North Star could work on its definition of romance.
Swallowing, Morgana closes her eyes and presses her lips to Gwen's. It's strange and cold and definitely very weird - though fortunately not as wet as she'd imagined - and then suddenly it gets warmer, and she can hear golden bells in her head and feel a pair of arms wrapping around her waist. Morgana stops thinking and she leans in to do the job more thoroughly, and then she opens her eyes again to see Gwen - glorious human sunbeam-yellow Gwen - smiling up at her.
"Hello," says Gwen, and puts a soft hand to Morgana's cheek.
"Oh," says Morgana, the revelation hitting her. "You're my princess."
"I could have told you that," says Arthur snidely from somewhere behind, leaving Morgana to wonder very seriously whether she prefers him as a frog or human.
The North Star twinkles down on them, inexcusably smug for an insentient rock unaware of their existence.
Gwen/Morgana feat.Morgause: the Orpheus & Eurydice version (G, 715 words)
"If you want her back," says Morgause, grinning, "you're going to have to lead her out."
"That's it?" Gwen looks quite relieved and sheathes her sword, but Morgana's got to know her sister quite well over the last few months, and waits.
"There is a condition." Swishing around the room and dropping each word like an unyielding tap, Morgause is milking it, every last instant. "If you turn about to look at her - indeed, if your glance strays but a degree in her direction as you make your way from this castle to the lake's edge - you will forefeit her."
Gwen frowns. "You mean..."
"An impenetrable wall will divide you forevermore." Morgause smiles serenely.
"Right," says Gwen, and glances at Morgana, who shrugs. She'd protest, but to be honest, these are the kind of weird intrigues that's made Morgause so much fun to live with. And she has full faith in Gwen's ability to rescue her without giving into temptation. It's Gwen. She's not only come armed with sword and shield, which is anyway a brilliant look and gives Morgana tiny tingly feelings, but she's got a couple of her dad's tools sticking out her backpack, which Morgana is fairly sure is Gwen's way of preparing for potential dungeons.
"Well," says Gwen, after a few moments of thought, "I suppose we should get going."
"See you," says Morgana, grinning at Morgause. "I'll catch you on the crystals when I get home."
"If," says Morgause ominously, and Morgana rolls her eyes. She'd hug her sister, but Gwen is looking a little mutinous, and she's come an awfully long way so it probably wouldn't be fair. She picks up her stuff, winks at Morgause, and takes Gwen's hand (still warm, worn, and just the right size) till they reach the castle door. They look at each other.
"We can't touch," says Morgana, pulling a face. "Morgause said it's against the rules."
Gwen frowns. "We can talk, though."
"What do you have in mind?"
*
"Still there?"
"Yep."
"...How about now?"
"I think you should tell stories instead."
*
"So, once upon a time," begins Gwen, "there was a really nice girl."
"Pretty?"
"Absolutely gorgeous. And she pretty much ruled a castle, and was brilliant at life."
"Bet she was."
"Despite that, the girl used to have really bad dreams, and she used to wake up terrified."
"Vaguely disturbed, I think you'll find."
"And her best friend had no objection to staying behind at night to give a hand."
"Her best friend was really nice too."
"One day, the girl shamelessly pretended to have a bad dream to make a move on her best friend."
"Unproven."
"But fortunately, the best friend didn't particularly mind."
"Because of the prettiness. Watch out for traps, by the way, Morgause likes to leave them near the mouth of the cave."
"And then the girl discovered she had magic and decided not to tell anyone."
"Revisionist history; I bet the best friend kept secrets too."
"Step softly here, there's a bat contingent on the roof. Anyway, one day the girl ran off with some blonde sorceress in armour to bond over magic."
"Not like that. And anyway, long solitude meant the blonde sorceress was a bit awkward when it came to living with somone, had no idea how to cook for two, and was apparently terrible with cave-maintenance."
"The best friend, who didn't know about these details, took off as soon as she could to find the girl and show how much she meant to her, because she'd always been a bit rubbish with words."
"The best friend looked excellent in the armour, by the way. God, that waterfall's loud."
"And the girl, who hopefully sort of understood what her best friend was trying to say, decided to return with her. And they lived -- "
The waterfall is like the roar of a hundred birds, and Morgana watches Gwen cross it - and then, with a terrible certainty, realises Gwen is about to turn. Panic fills through her and she hurtles through the sheet of pounding water - it crashes down on her shoulders and leaves her soaking - and collides straight into Gwen's back.
"Happily ever after," declares Morgana, drenched, and turns Gwen about to pull her into a long, heartfelt hug.
Reincarnated!Gwen/Morgana: working for Torchwood (G, 390 words)
"Guns," says Morgana firmly. "Really big ones."
Gwen sighs, and wonders if maybe she'd be happier working with aliens in a more time-friendly slot where weaponry is distinctly disapproved of. "I think," she says, fixing the holster on a small gun nonetheless, "that we should talk to it before we shoot. We don't have to do everything Jack does, you know."
"I know," says Morgana. "Otherwise we'd be trying to get its number first." She waggles her eyebrows, and Gwen thinks Cardiff is really very bad for her girlfriend. "Nice multiple-limbed alien. You know what that'd be good for?"
"Getting a decent score for the Bluebirds on a Saturday night?"
"You're no fun, Guinevere." Gwen hears, rather than sees, the pout, and she steadfastly refuses to turn around and get distracted so she fixes up a strong dose of tranquilisers instead.
"Come on," she says, "that thing will have terrorised half the people on the bay by now."
"And we're going to boldly stride in and deal with the situation?"
Gwen winces. "Probably only half-right," she says.
"Oh, we'll get round to the other half," comforts Morgana. "It might take a bit longer, that's all."
"Long enough to see the sunrise, I'm sure." Gwen thinks it's lovely, she really does, that Jack feels he can go out on a date and leave his seconds-in-command in, well, command, but she is aware that these things are sometimes done faster when they have the whole team around.
"Okay, well," says Morgana, and goes a little pink, "if we manage to persuade it to go home without any fuss... any chance of going for a quiet meal later? "
That's Morgana. Dismisses aliens with the arch of an eyebrow and seriously tries to kill someone in government every other week, but gets stumbly over the sugestion of romance. Gwen smiles, and remembers that for all her shortcomings, Morgana can be pretty adorable sometimes.
"Sounds good," she agrees.
"We can go Weevil hunting if-you-know-what-I-mean," adds Morgana lasciviously, and Gwen revises her opinion completely before setting out to get rid off the monster within the next forty minutes. It might be the twenty-first century, but sometimes, it's like nothing changes.
Gwen/Morgana feat.Arthur: the Frog Princess version (G, 840 words)
Morgana flops onto the bed, dress splaying over the sheets for maximum effect, and sighs dramatically. "I'll never find my princess," she sighs.
Uther smiles at his ward with the expression of a man bound to a homocidal maniac. "I'm sure the right person for you is out there somewhere," he says, and pats her awkwardly on the knee. "You just have to wait."
Morgana launches herself at the window and pouts out, wistfullness exuding off her in great wistful waves. "I shall wish upon the star," she says, and Uther beats a hasty retreat.
Regardless, she gazes up at the North Star, twinkling with serenity and power. Morgana squeezes her eyes shut. "Please let me discover my princess," she beseeches of the plasma ball burning approximately four hundred light years away from her window. "True love, romance, the whole works. Failing that, any sort of action."
Her pleas are interrupted by Merlin bolting into her room, and Morgana jumps up, startled. "Knocking, Merlin --" she begins, then her eyes fall on his hands. Specifically, what he has in each hand.
"You, er," she says delicately, in case Merlin has a very good reason for doing this. "Seem to be carrying amphibians."
"Frogs," specifies Merlin, and looks rather desperate. The creature in his left hand squelches with deliberate unpleasantness, and Merlin winces. He amends, "Not frogs. Er, Arthur and Gwen." He raises each hand limply, and Morgana stares in horror at Merlin's right, where a tiny green frog with a mute expression of singular distress stares up at her.
"How did this --?"
"I did my magic wrong."
"Oh." Morgana would berate, but she knows for herself how unpredictable magic can be: curtains, broken furniture, and that strangely satisfying week Gaius spent voiceless can attest to that. She looks from the frogs to Merlin. "And what do you want me to do about it?"
"Um," says Merlin, and eyes her in a wary kind of way that Morgana knows means she's going to hate what he says next. "The dragon said all it takes is a single kiss, and they'll both be turned into humans again."
Morgana's laugh is tinged with hysteria. "I'm not kissing frogs," she says, horrified. "Sorry Gwen," she adds, and the frog on Merlin's right sinks down into his palm resignedly. "You do it."
"I can't," says Merlin, "the dragon said it has to be a princess."
"I"m the king's ward!"
"Technicalities." Merlin dumps the frogs - Arthur and Gwen - onto Morgana's covers, and beats a hasty retreat. "It only has to be one of them. Thanks, Morgana, you're a real brick!"
As her door swings shut behind him, Morgana reflects that the dragon definitely has it in for her.
She goes to her bed and kneels, much as she did at the window earlier, to stare at Camelot's latest victims. One frog, Arthurness written all over his verdant skin, hops around the bed in a vaguely provocative manner.
"Oh, very persuasive," snips Morgana.
Arthur takes this as a challenge; he starts making his way to her pillows and she lunges at him.
"You are an annoying bastard even when you're a frog, did you know that?" She looks at Gwen. "This must be fun for you."
Gwen's expression betrays infinite weariness; Arthur's mouth falls open in what Morgana is sure is supposed to be a grin. He pokes a chummy, webby foot at Gwen, who edges away discreetly.
Morgana sighs. "I'm only doing this because I don't think Uther will appreciate having to bury your butchered froggy form," she says, and Arthur beams. Decision made, Morgana gets to her feet, and holds her hand out to Gwen. "Hop on."
With an impossible modicum of dignity, Gwen sidles on to Morgana's palm. Her eyes are the same, Morgana thinks desperately, brown and patient. And Gwen is, after all, her best friend in the whole world. There's nothing very weird about this. She glances out of the window, and thinks the North Star could work on its definition of romance.
Swallowing, Morgana closes her eyes and presses her lips to Gwen's. It's strange and cold and definitely very weird - though fortunately not as wet as she'd imagined - and then suddenly it gets warmer, and she can hear golden bells in her head and feel a pair of arms wrapping around her waist. Morgana stops thinking and she leans in to do the job more thoroughly, and then she opens her eyes again to see Gwen - glorious human sunbeam-yellow Gwen - smiling up at her.
"Hello," says Gwen, and puts a soft hand to Morgana's cheek.
"Oh," says Morgana, the revelation hitting her. "You're my princess."
"I could have told you that," says Arthur snidely from somewhere behind, leaving Morgana to wonder very seriously whether she prefers him as a frog or human.
The North Star twinkles down on them, inexcusably smug for an insentient rock unaware of their existence.
Gwen/Morgana feat.Morgause: the Orpheus & Eurydice version (G, 715 words)
"If you want her back," says Morgause, grinning, "you're going to have to lead her out."
"That's it?" Gwen looks quite relieved and sheathes her sword, but Morgana's got to know her sister quite well over the last few months, and waits.
"There is a condition." Swishing around the room and dropping each word like an unyielding tap, Morgause is milking it, every last instant. "If you turn about to look at her - indeed, if your glance strays but a degree in her direction as you make your way from this castle to the lake's edge - you will forefeit her."
Gwen frowns. "You mean..."
"An impenetrable wall will divide you forevermore." Morgause smiles serenely.
"Right," says Gwen, and glances at Morgana, who shrugs. She'd protest, but to be honest, these are the kind of weird intrigues that's made Morgause so much fun to live with. And she has full faith in Gwen's ability to rescue her without giving into temptation. It's Gwen. She's not only come armed with sword and shield, which is anyway a brilliant look and gives Morgana tiny tingly feelings, but she's got a couple of her dad's tools sticking out her backpack, which Morgana is fairly sure is Gwen's way of preparing for potential dungeons.
"Well," says Gwen, after a few moments of thought, "I suppose we should get going."
"See you," says Morgana, grinning at Morgause. "I'll catch you on the crystals when I get home."
"If," says Morgause ominously, and Morgana rolls her eyes. She'd hug her sister, but Gwen is looking a little mutinous, and she's come an awfully long way so it probably wouldn't be fair. She picks up her stuff, winks at Morgause, and takes Gwen's hand (still warm, worn, and just the right size) till they reach the castle door. They look at each other.
"We can't touch," says Morgana, pulling a face. "Morgause said it's against the rules."
Gwen frowns. "We can talk, though."
"What do you have in mind?"
*
"Still there?"
"Yep."
"...How about now?"
"I think you should tell stories instead."
*
"So, once upon a time," begins Gwen, "there was a really nice girl."
"Pretty?"
"Absolutely gorgeous. And she pretty much ruled a castle, and was brilliant at life."
"Bet she was."
"Despite that, the girl used to have really bad dreams, and she used to wake up terrified."
"Vaguely disturbed, I think you'll find."
"And her best friend had no objection to staying behind at night to give a hand."
"Her best friend was really nice too."
"One day, the girl shamelessly pretended to have a bad dream to make a move on her best friend."
"Unproven."
"But fortunately, the best friend didn't particularly mind."
"Because of the prettiness. Watch out for traps, by the way, Morgause likes to leave them near the mouth of the cave."
"And then the girl discovered she had magic and decided not to tell anyone."
"Revisionist history; I bet the best friend kept secrets too."
"Step softly here, there's a bat contingent on the roof. Anyway, one day the girl ran off with some blonde sorceress in armour to bond over magic."
"Not like that. And anyway, long solitude meant the blonde sorceress was a bit awkward when it came to living with somone, had no idea how to cook for two, and was apparently terrible with cave-maintenance."
"The best friend, who didn't know about these details, took off as soon as she could to find the girl and show how much she meant to her, because she'd always been a bit rubbish with words."
"The best friend looked excellent in the armour, by the way. God, that waterfall's loud."
"And the girl, who hopefully sort of understood what her best friend was trying to say, decided to return with her. And they lived -- "
The waterfall is like the roar of a hundred birds, and Morgana watches Gwen cross it - and then, with a terrible certainty, realises Gwen is about to turn. Panic fills through her and she hurtles through the sheet of pounding water - it crashes down on her shoulders and leaves her soaking - and collides straight into Gwen's back.
"Happily ever after," declares Morgana, drenched, and turns Gwen about to pull her into a long, heartfelt hug.