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Gwen stared down at the shackles fastened snugly around her ankle, fingers gently rubbing at her skin. It did nothing to alleviate the constant scratching where it pressed a little too tightly against the bone, but it was comforting, a small thing she could do to sooth herself in this miserable place. She’d been here for hours, sitting on the stone floors, straw clinging to her dress, and a single bucket in the corner that she hadn’t yet been desperate enough to use.
Shaking her head, Gwen turned to eyes to the small little window perched at street level. Rusted bars kept prisoners from trying to clamber toward the fresh air and of course, the restraints. The fact that they truly believed she was dangerous enough to warrant this, while also locked in a cell…well it was mind numbingly ridiculous.
Night had fallen only forty minutes before, a stiff, cold breeze easing its way into her prison. Gwen knew there was a blanket somewhere here, hidden beneath the dirty and straw and probably already torn to shred by the rats and mice. She had already decided she would rather freeze to death then wrap herself in it. Despite herself, she felt her eyes sting as a different thought slipped into her mind, one she had been actively ignoring since she’d been tossed in here…her father.
What would he think? He hadn’t known, not about her love for woman or her attraction to Morgana, hadn’t an inkling but she could imagine what he’d say. He would have told her to leave, to take a job as a seamstress or washing clothes, anything to keep her far away from the castle and the woman she loved.
He wouldn’t do it to be cruel. Her father didn’t have a mean bone in his body but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep her and Elyan safe. Where she was right now, and all because she loved Morgana, would be his absolute worst nightmare.
She wondered where her brother was now, what he was thinking. She hoped he wasn’t trying to petition for her freedom…she didn’t want him risking his knighthood for her…she didn’t deserve it. Then of course, there was Morgana herself, she could still hear her righteous screams, the hateful words falling from lips as the guards dragged her away, the roaring of Uther as he tried to rein her in.
A small part of Gwen had warmed at Morgana’s fury, had felt something in her chest click into place as though the obvious emotion in her voice and her expression vindicated the love she had professed so many times before.
It wasn’t as though she never believed Morgana loved her…but the strength of her feelings, that was easy to doubt. After all, Gwen was a servant and although she had truly never wished to aim higher, had never seen their relationship coming out from behind closed doors or more than stolen touches in public, she had fallen in love with the one woman that would be utterly unacceptable.
Morgana.
She would be fighting for her release but at what cost? There was no way Uther would allow her to remain in the castle, he might even send her away from Camelot for all she knew. The thought of it, of leaving behind her family, her friends, her home…she swore she could feel the crack weaving its way through her heart, dividing itself into pieces that would be left behind when she went, pieces she would spend the rest of her life mourning.
The sound of footsteps made her look toward the bars as she quickly wiped away the tears that had spilled over her cheeks. She couldn’t help but tense, uncertain of who might be coming down here at this hour.
For a moment Guinevere stared incomprehensibly at the shadow in front of her cell, the figure clad in a long, elegant green cloak that matched the familiar eyes peering over at her. Realization dawned quickly, as another figure followed the first, scrawny, pale, and stumbling with familiar clumsiness.
“Gwen.”
Her voice, soft and aching made her stand, the shackles clanging noisily against the stone as she moved toward the door quickly, stopping short only a few feet away, “Morgana, what are you doing here?”
The words came out in a hiss, her heart thumping like a thousand horses in her chest. Fear tingled up her spine, fear that if Morgana was caught here, Uther would extend whatever punishment to his ward, would forget about all his love for her.
Blazing eyes met hers, ones that stung with betrayal and courage, ones that stopped any more words from pouring out of her mouth and instead, Gwen reached across the small distance until she could tangle a hand with Morgana’s.
“Are you alright?” Morgana questioned in hushed tones. “Did they hurt you?”
“No. They didn’t. Morgana I’m so so-”
“Don’t,” she warned, and her tone was a familiar one. It was the same one she used to make the guards stand straighter and the councilmen apologize and even Arthur to grimace. “Don’t you dare apologize for any of this.”
“We have to hurry,” Merlin murmured from where he stood anxiously to the side, shooting a look over his shoulder.
Morgana nodded and slipped a key out from beneath her cloak. She made quick work of the door and the moment she was inside Gwen felt something she hadn’t in a very long time. The weight of responsibility didn’t sit on her shoulders like it had most of her life, no, she felt safe and cared for as the woman she loved got to work undoing the shackles. Maybe, she wouldn’t always have to take care of everyone else.
“Your ankle-” Morgana started, staring at where she bled sluggishly.
“I’ll take care of it,” Merlin cut in. “We have to go. Arthur said we’d only have twenty-five minutes.”
There was so much Gwen needed to say, words that had circled in her head for the hours she sat in the cell, things she wished she’d said every day she and Morgana had spent together. Instead, long, elegant fingers settled on the back of her head and pulled her forward into a harsh, desperate kiss.
Morgana’s lips were unforgiving, her hands holding her like letting her go would mean dying and Gwen found herself pressing closer, wrapping her arms around a slim waist and too soft hair, knocking back the hood. The scent of her, like the lavender oil she poured into her baths, overwhelmed all of Gwen’s senses and when she felt a tear touch her cheek…it was already too late.
Merlin had her by the arm and was pulling her along. Gwen caught one last look of Morgana, eyes wide and broken, standing in the empty cell…all alone.
Gwen let herself be dragged along, allowed a cloak to be tossed over her shoulders and for Merlin to help her mount a horse, all in silence. He climbed on behind her and soon enough they were galloping through the town and for the gate that would lead them into the woods and away from her home.
“This isn’t the end Gwen,” Merlin murmured, and she hadn’t realized she was crying until he wiped at her cheek. “I’m taking you to Ealdor, Elyan is there waiting. Morgana is going to do everything she can to get Uther to accept you back but if he doesn’t…she’ll meet us there.”
The words, she decided, sounded too good to be true.