Poetic Advent - Weapons of Choice 2/7
Title: Weapon of Choice
Author: Poetic Advent
Raiting: NC17
Pairing: Leon/Morgana
Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately.
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Written for the KMM prompt, Uther wants to marry Morgana off for political gain. Leon is merely a knight, a dogsbody. Prompt Here
***Sneaking through the castle in the dead of night when he was supposed to be patrolling the parapets was not the smartest choice Leon had ever made. Discovery risked ramifications of the highest order, especially if word were to get back to the king. But Edward owed him for the time Leon covered his delinquence when he twice fell asleep on his shift, and while Leon never considered those kinds of favors for other knights as debts to be paid, in this case, he had to make an exception. He needed to know, and this was the only way for him to find out.
The risk was worth it, though he'd never admit as much to Morgana. Her ego already rivaled Arthur's, consequences of being part of the royal family, he assumed.
At her door, he hesitated, locked in indecision. Courtesy warred with common sense, one commanding him to knock, the latter reminding him that she was probably asleep and knocking would not only wake her and leave her irritable but draw attention from anybody who might be near. Tamping down the urge to obey his breeding, he carefully turned the door handle, mindful to stay as silent as possible.
A single candle burned inside the room. Though it sat at the bedside, the glow it cast over the sumptuous blankets revealed they'd been abandoned, tossed back and disarrayed by an owner uncaring of appearances.
"Morgana?" he called out softly, venturing farther into her chambers.
He found her curled up in a chair by the window. Her gaze was averted, fixed on whatever she saw in the night, and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs to hug them to her body. Much of her nightgown was masked by the fall of her ebony waves, slashing across the pearly gossamer like open wounds. He shook off the image as he approached. For as much time as he spent with Morgana with a sword in his hand, he never wanted to associate her with carnage.
"Morgana?" he repeated when he was nearer.
She tilted her head up at his voice, and he halted yet again. All color had been drained away from her pure complexion. Even her lips were pinched white.
"Leon?" The way she spoke, his name sounded like fragile crystal, irreparably shattered. "What are you doing here?"
He ignored her question and crouched at her side. "What's wrong?"
Thick lashes fanned across her cheeks. Her head swayed to the side as if too heavy for her to hold up. "I don't sleep well."
He itched to reach out and touch her, but in the few months they'd been training together, he had never once yielded on that familiar impulse. She was so young, in spite of how hard she tried to convince him otherwise, and he couldn't let himself forget that the king's fifteen-year-old ward was off-limits, no matter how much he-or she-wished things were different.
"You should speak to Gaius," he said. "I'm sure he can help."
"He wouldn't understand."
"It's his job to understand," he pressed. "He could give you something that would help, I'm sure of it."
"Nothing helps."
"Because you've exhausted all possibilities? Somehow, I doubt that. You and I both know you don't like being seen as..." He was going to say weak, but she hated that word. "...like this," he changed it to. "But you need something, Morgana. Promise me you'll talk to him."
He couldn't say why it was so important to him for her to agree, but after a moment, she nodded.
"Good." He attempted to straighten to give her space back, but a single glance from her and he was locked at her side. "What happened today?"
She didn't ask what he referred to, for which he was grateful. Their routine might still be young, but it had already taken strong enough root for its disruption to throw off his entire day. When she hadn't shown for their pre-breakfast training session, he'd spent the rest of his hours wondering why.
"Uther found out." Bitterness laced her tone. "That stupid maid he assigned to me told him everything."
His breath caught. Discovery had been a real fear from the onset. At first, he'd only cared what the other knights might say if they heard he was working on his swordfighting with a girl, but the more time he spent with Morgana, the more he worried about what the king would do instead. She was young and impressionable, not to mention renowned already for her beauty. While Leon was noble-born, he was still just a knight, unworthy of a match or any of her attentions, whether they were platonic or not.
"What did he say?"
"He forbade me from continuing. He said it was unbecoming for a young lady to be seen consorting with knights."
Uther's specific terminology drove Leon to his feet, and he backed away several steps as if the distance would be enough to eradicate the king's impressions. "We don't consort."
Something about the way he said it must have amused her. Her full mouth twisted into a wry smile as her brow lifted. "What do you call it?"
"We train."
"So you see what you and I do as different as what you do with the other knights?"
"No-yes-no!" When she posed questions like that, his mind didn't know where to latch onto. She was a sly one, his Morgana, always finding ways to get to him with words when the mere sight of her was enough to send any man to his knees. In a few years time, she would be unparalleled within the five kingdoms, and that thought alone filled Leon with a maelstrom he couldn't grasp.
Though she hadn't moved from her chair, she seemed taller in the space she occupied, stronger and straighter. "You can't have it both ways," she said. "Is the answer really that difficult?"
Yes, because she couldn't know how she left him every morning, how walking away from her when her eyes shone and her skin was dewy with the sweat of their labor left him aching for hours, his skin too tight for his heated flesh, the world too bright and distracting when he didn't have the skirmishes with her to focus on. It wasn't because he knew his attentions would be unwelcome. Far from it. He'd known from that first visit in the armory that she flirted with him, using every weapon at her disposal to goad him into responding. But he was not a man to take advantage of a young girl's crush. His honor had to mean something, else what was the point of being a knight at all?
His inability to answer her in a way that would satisfy both of them left the air between them swollen and tense in his silence. Morgana sighed and rested her chin on her knees, looking inexplicably both more innocent and seductive at the same time.
"The time I spend with you are my favorite hours of the day," she said. "I love sparring. I love the way the sword feels against my palm. I love feeling like anything is possible, that I can't be beaten down no matter what is thrown at me."
He snorted. "I do win occasionally, you know."
"I know. But a defeat at your hands doesn't feel like a defeat. It feels like...another way to win."
Her cryptic words might have left an outsider shaking his head, unable to parse what she might mean. But Leon understood, without having to beg further explanation. He knew the value of a lesson learned at the hand of a worthy foe. She had taught him much in the short time they'd spent together, and not just about his form.
"Uther is right, though." Admitting such strained the limits of his control. "Perhaps it's better this way."
When he turned to leave, Morgana bolted from her seat, appearing before him to block the path. She was always doing that. Barring the way. Forcing him to grind to a halt and consider how he would proceed without barreling over her.
"You don't believe that." Her eyes flashed. Some of the color was returning to her cheeks. "You wouldn't have come in search of an explanation if you did."
Why couldn't he breathe? He had no problem standing this close to her with a sword in her hand. But then, her wild scent didn't swirl through his head as much as it did fuel his fight. "I was worried about you."
"You saw me at dinner. I know you did."
"Something could've been wrong."
"You're not foolish enough to delude yourself like that."
But he was. He was starting to believe he'd been deluding himself all along.
"Are you foolish enough to risk Uther's wrath for a few simple sword lessons?" he countered. If he could only get her to see reason-
"Yes." She stared up at him, unblinking, defiant. "If they were with you, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."
And there it was, the inevitable truth, the unblemished reality of why she'd pursued these lessons in the first place. Meeting the blaze in her eyes, he couldn't deny her sincerity, nor argue that she was the one suffering delusions if she thought for a second he might reciprocate the attraction. Simply being in front of him was all it took for his body to respond to her. No sense was immune. The smell of her, the touch, the vision of her dusky nipples peeking through the translucent gown. Only one sense remained untested.
His mouth crashed to hers, his hands grappling to hold her, tug her tightly against him, do anything to make her his. Nails scratched at his shoulders, digging through his thin shirt to leave a stinging path in their wake. His fingers got knotted in her hair when he tried to push it out of the way, but rather than stop to free himself, he coiled the long strands around and around his palm to provide a stronger anchor in case she was the one to try and break it off.
She didn't. Her lips parted at the first touch from his. They might have been pinched from the trauma of whatever night terrors had driven her to the chair, but now they were ripe and ready to burst, a single cut the only thing necessary to make it happen.
The breath he'd lost before laying a finger on her disappeared entirely, replaced by Morgana's frantic pants, the hungry little cries she made in the back of her throat every time their tongues touched. She arched closer, rubbing almost awkwardly against his erection, but the added friction roused him more than he was capable of controlling.
He tore away, using his grip in her hair to yank her head back when she tried to chase him down. "Don't," he rasped. Sucking in air wasn't enough to satisfy his failing lungs. He could barely see straight for the way she filled his head. "Morgana, please."
"But you want this." She raked her hands down his chest, smiling when he groaned every time a muscle twitched in response. "See?"
"I do." Admitting it was surprisingly easy, certainly easier than trying to separate their bodies. "I'm not a fool, remember?"
"Then what's the problem?"
His thoughts swam, flailing as he sought his reasons. "This isn't why I came here. I don't want to take advantage of you."
"You're not. I'm not a child."
"You deserve better than this...this rutting."
Leaning her head to the side tightened the strands woven around his fingers. It cut almost painfully into his skin. He couldn't even imagine what it must be doing to her. But the look in her eye was pure desire, the hungry glow of a woman fully savoring the moment. She enjoyed how rough he was being, but whether it was because of the violence or him, he couldn't tell.
"This is exactly what I want," Morgana said. "You. Here. I've waited a long time for you to see me as who I am, Leon. Don't turn away from it now."
As if he could. They were too entangled, literally and otherwise, to make severing ties with her a simple task. "I see you," he said softly. "All too well."
Her eyes widened, as if she couldn't quite believe his concession. "Then stay."
"Not tonight." Tugging her forward, he bent and brushed his lips across her forehead. "Give me time."
"For what?"
To better master his impulses? To prove himself stronger than he feared he wasn't? Leon wasn't sure. "To make this memorable for both of us. When we're not exhausted."
"But this is what we have. I can't meet you anymore. That girl will tell Uther everything."
"So get a new maid."
"Nobody in this castle will deny Uther. He's the king."
"Someone outside of the castle, then." He refused to lose their time together. He was a better fighter because of Morgana, which made him a better man. "I know a girl who works for my father. She's loyal to a fault, and better yet, she's a friend of mine. If I ask her to keep it a secret, she will."
Morgana pulled away to frown up at him. "I'm not sure I like the idea of another girl who'll do anything for you like I would."
He chuckled. "Gwen's not like that. Trust me. And she'll be a good friend to you if that's what you want. She's a kind soul."
She still seemed unsure, though the tiny line between her brows eased. "I could use a real friend around here. Nobody really sees me."
Stretching his thumb, he caressed the strong line of her jaw, absorbing the heat radiating from her silken skin. "I do." He smiled. "You gave me reason, too, remember?"
Morgana's laughter rang throughout the room. "Throwing my own words back at me? You'll have to do better than that."
He matched her smile. "It'll be my pleasure."
Part 3
Author: Poetic Advent
Raiting: NC17
Pairing: Leon/Morgana
Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately.
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Written for the KMM prompt, Uther wants to marry Morgana off for political gain. Leon is merely a knight, a dogsbody. Prompt Here
***Sneaking through the castle in the dead of night when he was supposed to be patrolling the parapets was not the smartest choice Leon had ever made. Discovery risked ramifications of the highest order, especially if word were to get back to the king. But Edward owed him for the time Leon covered his delinquence when he twice fell asleep on his shift, and while Leon never considered those kinds of favors for other knights as debts to be paid, in this case, he had to make an exception. He needed to know, and this was the only way for him to find out.
The risk was worth it, though he'd never admit as much to Morgana. Her ego already rivaled Arthur's, consequences of being part of the royal family, he assumed.
At her door, he hesitated, locked in indecision. Courtesy warred with common sense, one commanding him to knock, the latter reminding him that she was probably asleep and knocking would not only wake her and leave her irritable but draw attention from anybody who might be near. Tamping down the urge to obey his breeding, he carefully turned the door handle, mindful to stay as silent as possible.
A single candle burned inside the room. Though it sat at the bedside, the glow it cast over the sumptuous blankets revealed they'd been abandoned, tossed back and disarrayed by an owner uncaring of appearances.
"Morgana?" he called out softly, venturing farther into her chambers.
He found her curled up in a chair by the window. Her gaze was averted, fixed on whatever she saw in the night, and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs to hug them to her body. Much of her nightgown was masked by the fall of her ebony waves, slashing across the pearly gossamer like open wounds. He shook off the image as he approached. For as much time as he spent with Morgana with a sword in his hand, he never wanted to associate her with carnage.
"Morgana?" he repeated when he was nearer.
She tilted her head up at his voice, and he halted yet again. All color had been drained away from her pure complexion. Even her lips were pinched white.
"Leon?" The way she spoke, his name sounded like fragile crystal, irreparably shattered. "What are you doing here?"
He ignored her question and crouched at her side. "What's wrong?"
Thick lashes fanned across her cheeks. Her head swayed to the side as if too heavy for her to hold up. "I don't sleep well."
He itched to reach out and touch her, but in the few months they'd been training together, he had never once yielded on that familiar impulse. She was so young, in spite of how hard she tried to convince him otherwise, and he couldn't let himself forget that the king's fifteen-year-old ward was off-limits, no matter how much he-or she-wished things were different.
"You should speak to Gaius," he said. "I'm sure he can help."
"He wouldn't understand."
"It's his job to understand," he pressed. "He could give you something that would help, I'm sure of it."
"Nothing helps."
"Because you've exhausted all possibilities? Somehow, I doubt that. You and I both know you don't like being seen as..." He was going to say weak, but she hated that word. "...like this," he changed it to. "But you need something, Morgana. Promise me you'll talk to him."
He couldn't say why it was so important to him for her to agree, but after a moment, she nodded.
"Good." He attempted to straighten to give her space back, but a single glance from her and he was locked at her side. "What happened today?"
She didn't ask what he referred to, for which he was grateful. Their routine might still be young, but it had already taken strong enough root for its disruption to throw off his entire day. When she hadn't shown for their pre-breakfast training session, he'd spent the rest of his hours wondering why.
"Uther found out." Bitterness laced her tone. "That stupid maid he assigned to me told him everything."
His breath caught. Discovery had been a real fear from the onset. At first, he'd only cared what the other knights might say if they heard he was working on his swordfighting with a girl, but the more time he spent with Morgana, the more he worried about what the king would do instead. She was young and impressionable, not to mention renowned already for her beauty. While Leon was noble-born, he was still just a knight, unworthy of a match or any of her attentions, whether they were platonic or not.
"What did he say?"
"He forbade me from continuing. He said it was unbecoming for a young lady to be seen consorting with knights."
Uther's specific terminology drove Leon to his feet, and he backed away several steps as if the distance would be enough to eradicate the king's impressions. "We don't consort."
Something about the way he said it must have amused her. Her full mouth twisted into a wry smile as her brow lifted. "What do you call it?"
"We train."
"So you see what you and I do as different as what you do with the other knights?"
"No-yes-no!" When she posed questions like that, his mind didn't know where to latch onto. She was a sly one, his Morgana, always finding ways to get to him with words when the mere sight of her was enough to send any man to his knees. In a few years time, she would be unparalleled within the five kingdoms, and that thought alone filled Leon with a maelstrom he couldn't grasp.
Though she hadn't moved from her chair, she seemed taller in the space she occupied, stronger and straighter. "You can't have it both ways," she said. "Is the answer really that difficult?"
Yes, because she couldn't know how she left him every morning, how walking away from her when her eyes shone and her skin was dewy with the sweat of their labor left him aching for hours, his skin too tight for his heated flesh, the world too bright and distracting when he didn't have the skirmishes with her to focus on. It wasn't because he knew his attentions would be unwelcome. Far from it. He'd known from that first visit in the armory that she flirted with him, using every weapon at her disposal to goad him into responding. But he was not a man to take advantage of a young girl's crush. His honor had to mean something, else what was the point of being a knight at all?
His inability to answer her in a way that would satisfy both of them left the air between them swollen and tense in his silence. Morgana sighed and rested her chin on her knees, looking inexplicably both more innocent and seductive at the same time.
"The time I spend with you are my favorite hours of the day," she said. "I love sparring. I love the way the sword feels against my palm. I love feeling like anything is possible, that I can't be beaten down no matter what is thrown at me."
He snorted. "I do win occasionally, you know."
"I know. But a defeat at your hands doesn't feel like a defeat. It feels like...another way to win."
Her cryptic words might have left an outsider shaking his head, unable to parse what she might mean. But Leon understood, without having to beg further explanation. He knew the value of a lesson learned at the hand of a worthy foe. She had taught him much in the short time they'd spent together, and not just about his form.
"Uther is right, though." Admitting such strained the limits of his control. "Perhaps it's better this way."
When he turned to leave, Morgana bolted from her seat, appearing before him to block the path. She was always doing that. Barring the way. Forcing him to grind to a halt and consider how he would proceed without barreling over her.
"You don't believe that." Her eyes flashed. Some of the color was returning to her cheeks. "You wouldn't have come in search of an explanation if you did."
Why couldn't he breathe? He had no problem standing this close to her with a sword in her hand. But then, her wild scent didn't swirl through his head as much as it did fuel his fight. "I was worried about you."
"You saw me at dinner. I know you did."
"Something could've been wrong."
"You're not foolish enough to delude yourself like that."
But he was. He was starting to believe he'd been deluding himself all along.
"Are you foolish enough to risk Uther's wrath for a few simple sword lessons?" he countered. If he could only get her to see reason-
"Yes." She stared up at him, unblinking, defiant. "If they were with you, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."
And there it was, the inevitable truth, the unblemished reality of why she'd pursued these lessons in the first place. Meeting the blaze in her eyes, he couldn't deny her sincerity, nor argue that she was the one suffering delusions if she thought for a second he might reciprocate the attraction. Simply being in front of him was all it took for his body to respond to her. No sense was immune. The smell of her, the touch, the vision of her dusky nipples peeking through the translucent gown. Only one sense remained untested.
His mouth crashed to hers, his hands grappling to hold her, tug her tightly against him, do anything to make her his. Nails scratched at his shoulders, digging through his thin shirt to leave a stinging path in their wake. His fingers got knotted in her hair when he tried to push it out of the way, but rather than stop to free himself, he coiled the long strands around and around his palm to provide a stronger anchor in case she was the one to try and break it off.
She didn't. Her lips parted at the first touch from his. They might have been pinched from the trauma of whatever night terrors had driven her to the chair, but now they were ripe and ready to burst, a single cut the only thing necessary to make it happen.
The breath he'd lost before laying a finger on her disappeared entirely, replaced by Morgana's frantic pants, the hungry little cries she made in the back of her throat every time their tongues touched. She arched closer, rubbing almost awkwardly against his erection, but the added friction roused him more than he was capable of controlling.
He tore away, using his grip in her hair to yank her head back when she tried to chase him down. "Don't," he rasped. Sucking in air wasn't enough to satisfy his failing lungs. He could barely see straight for the way she filled his head. "Morgana, please."
"But you want this." She raked her hands down his chest, smiling when he groaned every time a muscle twitched in response. "See?"
"I do." Admitting it was surprisingly easy, certainly easier than trying to separate their bodies. "I'm not a fool, remember?"
"Then what's the problem?"
His thoughts swam, flailing as he sought his reasons. "This isn't why I came here. I don't want to take advantage of you."
"You're not. I'm not a child."
"You deserve better than this...this rutting."
Leaning her head to the side tightened the strands woven around his fingers. It cut almost painfully into his skin. He couldn't even imagine what it must be doing to her. But the look in her eye was pure desire, the hungry glow of a woman fully savoring the moment. She enjoyed how rough he was being, but whether it was because of the violence or him, he couldn't tell.
"This is exactly what I want," Morgana said. "You. Here. I've waited a long time for you to see me as who I am, Leon. Don't turn away from it now."
As if he could. They were too entangled, literally and otherwise, to make severing ties with her a simple task. "I see you," he said softly. "All too well."
Her eyes widened, as if she couldn't quite believe his concession. "Then stay."
"Not tonight." Tugging her forward, he bent and brushed his lips across her forehead. "Give me time."
"For what?"
To better master his impulses? To prove himself stronger than he feared he wasn't? Leon wasn't sure. "To make this memorable for both of us. When we're not exhausted."
"But this is what we have. I can't meet you anymore. That girl will tell Uther everything."
"So get a new maid."
"Nobody in this castle will deny Uther. He's the king."
"Someone outside of the castle, then." He refused to lose their time together. He was a better fighter because of Morgana, which made him a better man. "I know a girl who works for my father. She's loyal to a fault, and better yet, she's a friend of mine. If I ask her to keep it a secret, she will."
Morgana pulled away to frown up at him. "I'm not sure I like the idea of another girl who'll do anything for you like I would."
He chuckled. "Gwen's not like that. Trust me. And she'll be a good friend to you if that's what you want. She's a kind soul."
She still seemed unsure, though the tiny line between her brows eased. "I could use a real friend around here. Nobody really sees me."
Stretching his thumb, he caressed the strong line of her jaw, absorbing the heat radiating from her silken skin. "I do." He smiled. "You gave me reason, too, remember?"
Morgana's laughter rang throughout the room. "Throwing my own words back at me? You'll have to do better than that."
He matched her smile. "It'll be my pleasure."
Part 3