[FIC] risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body (Morgana/Morgause; PG-13)
Author: Anon
Title: risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul." ~ from Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda
Warnings: major character death, incest (obviously from the pairing), slight dark
Total Word Count/Length: 2,250 words
Original prompt number: 138 - Submitted by Anon
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Both title and summary taken from the poem above. I don't think this is what the prompter had in mind, but that was what the poem brought to my head, so here goes nothing. This pairing needs more writing, especially ones better than mine. Both my beta and I are not native speakers and therefore this thing was not brit-picked, so poke at it all you want and review for us!
Beta(s): Anon
( Read on AO3 )
1.
Morgana had no illusion whatsoever about who Morgause was. Morgause was her sister, one of the most powerful priestess the Old Religion had ever had the grace of having, and harboured the deepest hatred towards Uther Pendragon. Perhaps one that Morgana herself couldn't surpass.
Morgause had never been one for sentiment. She's greatness, a cold heart, a colder head, ambition, simplicity, and minimum tolerance.
But, she could say with conviction that all those traits combined could not deterred her from loving her sister.
And loving her more than what siblings would, so Morgana did.
The moment they met, Morgana felt lust for the first time. Not only that, but some form of instant affections also entered her heart. It terrified her, how such thoughts could occur. She kept them for herself, touching the bracelet Morgause had given her with such delicacy. The mysterious recognition in Morgause's eyes discouraged Morgana, but not by much. Because when Morgana dared let herself think about those eyes, all she remembered was the earth-brown colour and the warmth it emitted. With those eyes, she could trail her memories upon sharp features, golden flowing locks and a smile as excruciating as Morgause herself.
In the darkest hour of the night, in the confines of her chamber, she admitted to herself, that she would sin for this beautiful creature.
When Morgause had asked to meet her, Morgana was terrified. Not of Morgause, but of what she could say. She knew her heart, the way it fluttered each time she touched the bracelet and remembered golden hair. A lady such as herself should not have these feelings, and saying them to the object of her wrongful imagination would shame her all the more. So instead she told Morgause of her doubt about the King, the corrupted court that oppressed an entire kind, and her fear of being executed merely because of having magic.
Days and weeks after Morgana had been poisoned by Merlin, Morgause held her with much care, healed her and kept her from recklessly returning to Camelot for blood. It would not end well, Morgause had said. It would be better, crueller to take away whatever it was that Merlin had been so fiercely protecting. If Morgana had settled down with the thought of burning Camelot to the ground instead of the vision Morgause had of having the great court under their feet, she refrained from speaking aloud and angering her sister.
The year Morgana was absent from Camelot, Uther became a desperate force. She heard news of knights going on raids all over the kingdom and beyond looking for the missing King's ward. She laughed at his attempt, at the thought that Arthur Pendragon and Merlin were out there looking for her.
What was the meaning of it all, she questioned. Uther Pendragon's compassion was just a mask to keep her in check. Such a cruel man, such hatred, such prejudice running deep through his voice and his actions - how could this man rule a kingdom, she never understand. Arthur Pendragon, albeit so different from his father that Morgana did consider him an entire entity of his own and just an immature prince with reluctant respect, was not much better in regards of his hypocrisy and his quick judgement against people. His bravery was worth nothing.
And Merlin... if Morgana had been inclined to think of him as a good friend, as close to her as Guinevere, then he had completely demolished it with his attempt at taking her life.
Thanks to Morgause, all those mortifying sides of the people she once loved were exposed. Morgause held her hands, let her ponder her thoughts and guide her though the road of honesty, where people's true natures are laid bare and she could see that magic was the only salvation. This kingdom was this ugly in the first place because Uther Pendragon had dared interfere with magic, had kept people from living freely.
Slowly, day by day, the burn of hatred in her heart lessened with the more soldiers she put down. Irony, thy name was Pendragons. The very soldiers they sent out to retrieve her died at her hands. Morgause had been very pleased when Morgana suggested the method.
Morgause's smiles pierced through them all, running through the deep darkness that was their hut. Morgana admitted that aside from her sister, she could not muster the compassion for anyone else. Whether or not she was doing all these destructions to please Morgause more or she actually wanted revenge for her kinds, was the problem up for discussions late at night only.
The line blurred after a while, anyway.
2.
Morgause still had nightmares. The Great Purge, the way her people screamed, begging for mercy and in return only to receive more deaths. She had been too small to do much, except hiding. She remembered the cut the important patchment had embedded in her hands, her only possession aside from her magic at seven years of age. The parchment told her of a family she had been kept from, a sister that she would one day want to meet and it told her how the Great King Murderer had been just another cruel man hungry for power, invading in the name of justice and had led to her mother's wish of keeping her daughter far far away from a kingdom corrupted. It was kept by her side at all times, reminding her of a dark time and a need for revenge. Her bloodlust led her through the honing of her fighting skill, her practice of magic and her quest through the neighbouring kingdoms looking for a force, a mean to bring down Uther Pendragon and his reign.
She came to Camelot with the expectations that she would have to come and go many times, since Uther's kingdom had grown and became so much more powerful.
Meeting Morgana and leaving her behind in Uther's hands had been one of her greatest regrets during these errands. Planning and planting seeds for an uprising had been exhausting, but the thought of leaving her only blood in the hands of the King Murderer had been mind-numbing. Especially when she found out that Morgana had also inherited their mother's ability for magic, she had almost kidnapped Morgana. She refrained from the action by reminding herself that having an ally so close to Uther would help bring his reign down more smoothly.
She was all too willing to call off attacks when she found Morgana cold on the stone floor, poisoned by Merlin. The bitter bile ran up the throat at the thought that the one she suspected as Emrys, who was at least a magician, was not on their side kept her from thinking clearly. She barely managed to escape with Morgana in tow.
Comfort came with Morgana waking up alongside a fire and bloodlust for Pendragons.
From the moment they reunited, Morgause had regconised darkness within Morgana, which came with their family's magic and defiance. She decided to keep Morgana at her side, to help fuel the cold blue fire inside Morgana's heart and see it blossom.
If she let herself be honest, she would say she manipulated Morgana into this person. And then she would argue that it was in her sister's best interest. The Morgana before had been in constant fear, had been oppressed by a court at which she had been nothing but a spectacle, the beautiful King's ward to be raise and later became a tool for diplomacy. Her voice meant nothing of significant. This Morgana, here with her hidden deep in the forest, was a jewel glowing a deathly light. She had a power rivalled by few and a dedication, a hunger for vengeance and power that Morgause herself felt at moments surpassed hers.
Morgana embraced her magic and her fierceness so beautifully, Morgause almost choked on an emotion she had never experience. The scene causing it, Morgana with several fire dancing around her, attacking a helpless pawn of Uther's, was hauntingly beautiful.
Morgana smiled with intent in her eyes these days. She learnt so fast, found new and creative way to use her magic to toy with Uther's army looking for her. Morgause often found herself let out a loose laugh during Morgana's retelling of her work during the day, mostly teasing and sometimes going for fatality. If Morgause realised her laughter raised a devilish twinkle in Morgana's green eyes and used them more often, nobody knew.
She had been afraid to let Morgana go back to Camelot, convinced that Morgana's heart was changing again. Only it turned out false, because her wickedly beautiful sister was plotting on her own, to come back as a wounded woman and became a spy inside the impenetrable walls of Camelot.
Morgause smiled at the fruition that was her sister.
2.5
Morgause had never considered the nature of the relationship with Morgana something of import. Some months ago, the specific day of which she does not remember, Morgana sat her down and looked at her through her eyelashes. She had panicked, seeing traits of the old Morgana and immediately asking what was wrong.
Her heart settled when Morgana had climbed into her lap, whispering about the deep affection inside where sibling love had taken its position at the side road. She spoke of the lust that overcame her and her magic at the thought of Morgause, about how wrong it was but Morgana would not lie to Morgause about it.
It took only a moment of ponder for Morgause to reply that the word 'sister' was only a way of labelling their relationship, but if Morgana chose to, they can follow whatever they wanted, that blood relations were confines implemented on them. Morgause had not lied when she said the wrongness was the one they should follow, because Morgana was beautiful at this end of the spectrum. She followed it with hands gripping and pushing at the fabric of Morgana's green dress pulling around her thigh.
After all, certain dark things are to be loved in certain ways. Molding this version of Morgana with something as twisted as mistaken affections was alright, Morgause reasoned.
That had been that, Morgause supposed. It was just another stepping stone for them during the course of bringing the downfall of Camelot upon the world.
3.
Her return to Camelot was perfect. Aside from Morgause, nobody knew who Morgana had turned into. The kingdom held onto its facade of a peaceful country, much to Morgana's distaste.
So she brought it down, took down brick by brick, from the top of the tower where Uther slept to the leg of the outer walls of the city.
She almost laughed at the fact that she thought she would spare Uther when she found out he was her father. The shame that overcame Uther's face when she tried to pry the secret from his hold was an affirmation. Camelot's King had no saving grace, and this kingdom was bound to fall.
Morgause thought she was enraged at Uther because of a confession, but her sister was wrong. It had only freed her rage. That night in the forest, where she had slid down Morgause's left shoulder and bit hard, she thought her sister understood.
It was during the process of taking down the walls around Arthur, preventing Gwen from reaching for the throne and for Merlin to settle in his role as a nice clueless servant boy that she had a dream about Morgause's demise.
She saw her sister fall, inside the wall of Camelot's throne room under the power of both magic and physical combat.
From that moment, she became desperate. Her vision came true one way or another, and she could not let Morgause die. What was the point of vengeance, when both of them are not there to see.
She kept her tears for night, concealed her fatigue with magic, and began tearing down Camelot faster. Her grip on Morgause during their meetings became more painful with time, partially because it was allowed to and partially because she was afraid she would lose the warmth underneath her fingers one day. She was painfully reminded that what they were doing was dangerous.
She dug her way around the kingdom much harder.
Morgana heaved a sigh of relief upon her coronation. She was in time enough - Morgause was still standing there unscathed.
4.
Complacency was always going to be Morgause's downfall, she thought as pain incapacitated her. She had thought that with Morgana and her combined magic, the prophesied Emrys couldn't touch them.
For a few months, all she could remember was pain and Morgana's screams, bloody and inhuman.
When she woke, she had three thoughts. One, they failed. Two, she was dying. And three, Morgana would be left behind, alone in her quest.
Numb as she was, she could actually feel Morgana's desperate attempts at reviving her, much to her dismay. She repeatedly told Morgana to stop, and listen to her plan. She was leaving soon, but Morgana needed to continue with new allies, with power and magic that Morgause had yet to teach her.
Morgana clawed at her with such fierce determination that Morgause realised, planting that seed of throat-cutting loyalty and love inside of Morgana would help her achieve their goal. If only it had not taken her death to reach this point.
The thing that led Morgana to giving up was when she kissed Morgause for the first time, her sister propped up against a bloody tree because her spine could not take it. Their parted lips came with a tired smile from Morgause, and Morgana cried.
4.5.
It seemed useless to admit now, but as Morgause dragged herself to death's literal door, she wanted to say she loved Morgana. Not in the loving way between wives and husbands, not the fierce way Pendragon had for Queen Igraine, not in any way she could explain because emotions had been trained out of her. But it was love anyway, because Morgana ignited fire wherever she went and with Morgause it was love. No explanation, no description, between the darkness of vengeance and the golden haze of magic.
5.
Moments before a spell that would take what was left of Morgause away from her, Morgana gripped her cold hands tightly and thought;
'From now on, till the end of my time, this would all be hard cold reprisal.'
Title: risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Morgana/Morgause
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul." ~ from Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda
Warnings: major character death, incest (obviously from the pairing), slight dark
Total Word Count/Length: 2,250 words
Original prompt number: 138 - Submitted by Anon
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Both title and summary taken from the poem above. I don't think this is what the prompter had in mind, but that was what the poem brought to my head, so here goes nothing. This pairing needs more writing, especially ones better than mine. Both my beta and I are not native speakers and therefore this thing was not brit-picked, so poke at it all you want and review for us!
Beta(s): Anon
( Read on AO3 )
1.
Morgana had no illusion whatsoever about who Morgause was. Morgause was her sister, one of the most powerful priestess the Old Religion had ever had the grace of having, and harboured the deepest hatred towards Uther Pendragon. Perhaps one that Morgana herself couldn't surpass.
Morgause had never been one for sentiment. She's greatness, a cold heart, a colder head, ambition, simplicity, and minimum tolerance.
But, she could say with conviction that all those traits combined could not deterred her from loving her sister.
And loving her more than what siblings would, so Morgana did.
The moment they met, Morgana felt lust for the first time. Not only that, but some form of instant affections also entered her heart. It terrified her, how such thoughts could occur. She kept them for herself, touching the bracelet Morgause had given her with such delicacy. The mysterious recognition in Morgause's eyes discouraged Morgana, but not by much. Because when Morgana dared let herself think about those eyes, all she remembered was the earth-brown colour and the warmth it emitted. With those eyes, she could trail her memories upon sharp features, golden flowing locks and a smile as excruciating as Morgause herself.
In the darkest hour of the night, in the confines of her chamber, she admitted to herself, that she would sin for this beautiful creature.
When Morgause had asked to meet her, Morgana was terrified. Not of Morgause, but of what she could say. She knew her heart, the way it fluttered each time she touched the bracelet and remembered golden hair. A lady such as herself should not have these feelings, and saying them to the object of her wrongful imagination would shame her all the more. So instead she told Morgause of her doubt about the King, the corrupted court that oppressed an entire kind, and her fear of being executed merely because of having magic.
Days and weeks after Morgana had been poisoned by Merlin, Morgause held her with much care, healed her and kept her from recklessly returning to Camelot for blood. It would not end well, Morgause had said. It would be better, crueller to take away whatever it was that Merlin had been so fiercely protecting. If Morgana had settled down with the thought of burning Camelot to the ground instead of the vision Morgause had of having the great court under their feet, she refrained from speaking aloud and angering her sister.
The year Morgana was absent from Camelot, Uther became a desperate force. She heard news of knights going on raids all over the kingdom and beyond looking for the missing King's ward. She laughed at his attempt, at the thought that Arthur Pendragon and Merlin were out there looking for her.
What was the meaning of it all, she questioned. Uther Pendragon's compassion was just a mask to keep her in check. Such a cruel man, such hatred, such prejudice running deep through his voice and his actions - how could this man rule a kingdom, she never understand. Arthur Pendragon, albeit so different from his father that Morgana did consider him an entire entity of his own and just an immature prince with reluctant respect, was not much better in regards of his hypocrisy and his quick judgement against people. His bravery was worth nothing.
And Merlin... if Morgana had been inclined to think of him as a good friend, as close to her as Guinevere, then he had completely demolished it with his attempt at taking her life.
Thanks to Morgause, all those mortifying sides of the people she once loved were exposed. Morgause held her hands, let her ponder her thoughts and guide her though the road of honesty, where people's true natures are laid bare and she could see that magic was the only salvation. This kingdom was this ugly in the first place because Uther Pendragon had dared interfere with magic, had kept people from living freely.
Slowly, day by day, the burn of hatred in her heart lessened with the more soldiers she put down. Irony, thy name was Pendragons. The very soldiers they sent out to retrieve her died at her hands. Morgause had been very pleased when Morgana suggested the method.
Morgause's smiles pierced through them all, running through the deep darkness that was their hut. Morgana admitted that aside from her sister, she could not muster the compassion for anyone else. Whether or not she was doing all these destructions to please Morgause more or she actually wanted revenge for her kinds, was the problem up for discussions late at night only.
The line blurred after a while, anyway.
2.
Morgause still had nightmares. The Great Purge, the way her people screamed, begging for mercy and in return only to receive more deaths. She had been too small to do much, except hiding. She remembered the cut the important patchment had embedded in her hands, her only possession aside from her magic at seven years of age. The parchment told her of a family she had been kept from, a sister that she would one day want to meet and it told her how the Great King Murderer had been just another cruel man hungry for power, invading in the name of justice and had led to her mother's wish of keeping her daughter far far away from a kingdom corrupted. It was kept by her side at all times, reminding her of a dark time and a need for revenge. Her bloodlust led her through the honing of her fighting skill, her practice of magic and her quest through the neighbouring kingdoms looking for a force, a mean to bring down Uther Pendragon and his reign.
She came to Camelot with the expectations that she would have to come and go many times, since Uther's kingdom had grown and became so much more powerful.
Meeting Morgana and leaving her behind in Uther's hands had been one of her greatest regrets during these errands. Planning and planting seeds for an uprising had been exhausting, but the thought of leaving her only blood in the hands of the King Murderer had been mind-numbing. Especially when she found out that Morgana had also inherited their mother's ability for magic, she had almost kidnapped Morgana. She refrained from the action by reminding herself that having an ally so close to Uther would help bring his reign down more smoothly.
She was all too willing to call off attacks when she found Morgana cold on the stone floor, poisoned by Merlin. The bitter bile ran up the throat at the thought that the one she suspected as Emrys, who was at least a magician, was not on their side kept her from thinking clearly. She barely managed to escape with Morgana in tow.
Comfort came with Morgana waking up alongside a fire and bloodlust for Pendragons.
From the moment they reunited, Morgause had regconised darkness within Morgana, which came with their family's magic and defiance. She decided to keep Morgana at her side, to help fuel the cold blue fire inside Morgana's heart and see it blossom.
If she let herself be honest, she would say she manipulated Morgana into this person. And then she would argue that it was in her sister's best interest. The Morgana before had been in constant fear, had been oppressed by a court at which she had been nothing but a spectacle, the beautiful King's ward to be raise and later became a tool for diplomacy. Her voice meant nothing of significant. This Morgana, here with her hidden deep in the forest, was a jewel glowing a deathly light. She had a power rivalled by few and a dedication, a hunger for vengeance and power that Morgause herself felt at moments surpassed hers.
Morgana embraced her magic and her fierceness so beautifully, Morgause almost choked on an emotion she had never experience. The scene causing it, Morgana with several fire dancing around her, attacking a helpless pawn of Uther's, was hauntingly beautiful.
Morgana smiled with intent in her eyes these days. She learnt so fast, found new and creative way to use her magic to toy with Uther's army looking for her. Morgause often found herself let out a loose laugh during Morgana's retelling of her work during the day, mostly teasing and sometimes going for fatality. If Morgause realised her laughter raised a devilish twinkle in Morgana's green eyes and used them more often, nobody knew.
She had been afraid to let Morgana go back to Camelot, convinced that Morgana's heart was changing again. Only it turned out false, because her wickedly beautiful sister was plotting on her own, to come back as a wounded woman and became a spy inside the impenetrable walls of Camelot.
Morgause smiled at the fruition that was her sister.
2.5
Morgause had never considered the nature of the relationship with Morgana something of import. Some months ago, the specific day of which she does not remember, Morgana sat her down and looked at her through her eyelashes. She had panicked, seeing traits of the old Morgana and immediately asking what was wrong.
Her heart settled when Morgana had climbed into her lap, whispering about the deep affection inside where sibling love had taken its position at the side road. She spoke of the lust that overcame her and her magic at the thought of Morgause, about how wrong it was but Morgana would not lie to Morgause about it.
It took only a moment of ponder for Morgause to reply that the word 'sister' was only a way of labelling their relationship, but if Morgana chose to, they can follow whatever they wanted, that blood relations were confines implemented on them. Morgause had not lied when she said the wrongness was the one they should follow, because Morgana was beautiful at this end of the spectrum. She followed it with hands gripping and pushing at the fabric of Morgana's green dress pulling around her thigh.
After all, certain dark things are to be loved in certain ways. Molding this version of Morgana with something as twisted as mistaken affections was alright, Morgause reasoned.
That had been that, Morgause supposed. It was just another stepping stone for them during the course of bringing the downfall of Camelot upon the world.
3.
Her return to Camelot was perfect. Aside from Morgause, nobody knew who Morgana had turned into. The kingdom held onto its facade of a peaceful country, much to Morgana's distaste.
So she brought it down, took down brick by brick, from the top of the tower where Uther slept to the leg of the outer walls of the city.
She almost laughed at the fact that she thought she would spare Uther when she found out he was her father. The shame that overcame Uther's face when she tried to pry the secret from his hold was an affirmation. Camelot's King had no saving grace, and this kingdom was bound to fall.
Morgause thought she was enraged at Uther because of a confession, but her sister was wrong. It had only freed her rage. That night in the forest, where she had slid down Morgause's left shoulder and bit hard, she thought her sister understood.
It was during the process of taking down the walls around Arthur, preventing Gwen from reaching for the throne and for Merlin to settle in his role as a nice clueless servant boy that she had a dream about Morgause's demise.
She saw her sister fall, inside the wall of Camelot's throne room under the power of both magic and physical combat.
From that moment, she became desperate. Her vision came true one way or another, and she could not let Morgause die. What was the point of vengeance, when both of them are not there to see.
She kept her tears for night, concealed her fatigue with magic, and began tearing down Camelot faster. Her grip on Morgause during their meetings became more painful with time, partially because it was allowed to and partially because she was afraid she would lose the warmth underneath her fingers one day. She was painfully reminded that what they were doing was dangerous.
She dug her way around the kingdom much harder.
Morgana heaved a sigh of relief upon her coronation. She was in time enough - Morgause was still standing there unscathed.
4.
Complacency was always going to be Morgause's downfall, she thought as pain incapacitated her. She had thought that with Morgana and her combined magic, the prophesied Emrys couldn't touch them.
For a few months, all she could remember was pain and Morgana's screams, bloody and inhuman.
When she woke, she had three thoughts. One, they failed. Two, she was dying. And three, Morgana would be left behind, alone in her quest.
Numb as she was, she could actually feel Morgana's desperate attempts at reviving her, much to her dismay. She repeatedly told Morgana to stop, and listen to her plan. She was leaving soon, but Morgana needed to continue with new allies, with power and magic that Morgause had yet to teach her.
Morgana clawed at her with such fierce determination that Morgause realised, planting that seed of throat-cutting loyalty and love inside of Morgana would help her achieve their goal. If only it had not taken her death to reach this point.
The thing that led Morgana to giving up was when she kissed Morgause for the first time, her sister propped up against a bloody tree because her spine could not take it. Their parted lips came with a tired smile from Morgause, and Morgana cried.
4.5.
It seemed useless to admit now, but as Morgause dragged herself to death's literal door, she wanted to say she loved Morgana. Not in the loving way between wives and husbands, not the fierce way Pendragon had for Queen Igraine, not in any way she could explain because emotions had been trained out of her. But it was love anyway, because Morgana ignited fire wherever she went and with Morgause it was love. No explanation, no description, between the darkness of vengeance and the golden haze of magic.
5.
Moments before a spell that would take what was left of Morgause away from her, Morgana gripped her cold hands tightly and thought;
'From now on, till the end of my time, this would all be hard cold reprisal.'