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Gwen had known that it would rain. She had broken her two of her fingers in a forge accident as a child, you see, and ever since then it would ache slightly on days when it would rain. It was useful, albeit hard to explain.
So when the air became cool despite the heat of the summer afternoon, when the water fell from the sky in gentle droplets which plastered her curly hair to her face while she fetched water, even when the sound of thunder rang in the distance, she was not surprised.
She did, however, hurry back inside. It would do no good to fall ill, after all.
*
The sound of harsh thunder woke Gwen, followed by a choked off scream and soft sobs in the room near the antechamber. She was instinctively out of bed and hurrying towards Lady Morgana’s room in seconds, practically before she even registered she was awake.
Gwen opened the door quietly, managing to restrain the urge to fling it open and run inside. But she knew that Morgana’s nightmares were worse when it stormed, and on nights such as this it would do her lady no good to cause any more noise.
She spotted Morgana almost immediately, and her heart ached for her. Morgana was sitting up, curled around her clasped hands and crying. She looked up at Gwen’s arrival, and said in a voice thick with tears: “Gwen?”
“Yes, my lady,” Gwen answered, approaching the bed without hesitation. “I’m here, I’m here. It’s alright.” She spoke the words like a promise, a promise Morgana was grateful to hear, judging by the way a small, grateful smile appeared on her beautiful face.
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Morgana into a warm embrace. A clap of thunder startled them both, this time sounding nearer than the one before had been. Morgana flinched in her arms, and clung to her dress desperately. Gwen just held her tighter.
“You are safe, I swear. Nothing can harm you. I’m here, my lady. I’m here.” She whispered into the dark room. The rain was still there, in the background, but all Gwen could think of was the woman in her arms.
“Gwen?” Morgana’s whisper was soft, and so unlike her usual confident words. “Could you- could you sing to me?”
And Gwen had never been able to deny her lady anything, least of all this. How could she even think to deny Morgana anything? Morgana, who stood strong in the face of Uther’s hatred, uncaring of the wrath she would face for standing up for herself. Morgana, who fought for the innocent, regardless of their station. Morgana, who suffered so terribly from these nightmares, these visions, which caused her pain that not even Gwen could imagine.
As the rain fell, Gwen sang softly.
“Oh how, oh how unreasonable. How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do. I’ll spend my days so close to you,”
Her hands traced slow patterns on Morgana’s back, calming and soft.
“‘Cause if I’m stood here, then I’m stood here. And I’ll stand here, I’ll stand here with you.”
She fell silent, and rested her chin on Morgana’s head.
They stayed there, for a while. Gwen wasn’t sure how long, but she didn’t care to know. All that mattered to her was Morgana, and how she felt in her arms.
*
Eventually, Morgana extracted herself from the embrace, and grasped Gwen’s hands with her own.
“Thank you,” she said, and pressed a ghost of a kiss to Gwen’s lips. She was still pale, and her eyes were weary. Gwen simply stood, and gently guided her back under the covers.
“Sleep, my lady.” She said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
*
The rain finally died down in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was barely risen. Gwen had gotten breakfast for the both of them, and sat at Morgana’s table, mending one of her old dresses. She wouldn’t wake her, not after a night such as this one, even if the King himself demanded it.
Eventually, Morgana rose, though Gwen was glad to see that it didn’t seem to be the fault of a night terror. She heard soft footsteps approaching where she sat, perched on one of the intricate chairs that were the gift of some lord or another. A kiss was pressed into her hair, and Gwen looked up to see Morgana’s smile. The smile which the courts never saw, a smile which was reserved for just Gwen, and their private little moments.
After receiving a proper kiss, Gwen set aside her mending and set about serving Morgana breakfast, and then choosing her dress for the day. Purple, she thought. Perhaps with a touch of blue in her hair.
Morgana was quiet, but she almost always was, in the mornings. Gwen could fill the silence easily, and she didn’t mind. She rambled about everything and nothing, the way that Priscilla the chambermaid was desperately pining for Lilian the laundress, that her father had heard word of her brother somewhere in the north, that a fight had broken out between the stablehands yesterday.
Though Morgana hummed distractedly in response, Gwen knew she was listening. She always was.
*
It was later that day when Gwen entered Morgana’s chambers to the sight of a candlelight dinner, and a vase of flowers. She didn’t even try to stop the smile which lit up her face.
Morgana entered the room from the other door, leading to the antechamber, holding another candle. When she spotted Gwen, she set the candle down on her dresser and walked up to her, grabbing her hands as she had that night.
“I love you,” she said, her voice soft and yet so strong. “I always have, and I always will.”
Gwen leaned up to press a kiss to her lips, and smiled into it.
“I love you,” she replied. “No matter what, I will always love you. And I will always be here, my lady.” Morgana’s grip unconsciously tightened on her hands, and she squeezed them in apology.
Gwen kissed her again. Morgana simply held her closer.