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Gwen is relieved when the sun begins to set, draping the kingdom in a soft darkness which marks the end of her day. It hadn’t been really any more trying than any other day she worked, but she was tired in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. Her feet drag, and she comes frighteningly close to dropping her bucket of water on the way up the stairs.
She doesn’t though, and manages to reach the Lady Morgana’s rooms for her last task of the day. She doesn’t bother to knock, knowing that Morgana would think it silly. You’re my maid and closest friend, Gwen! You needn’t knock, for you are always welcome here, she had once said.
As soon as she enters, she notices Morgana sitting in front of her vanity, patiently awaiting Gwen’s arrival as she plays with her hair and looks for imperfections (of which there were none) in the mirror. Gwen wastes no time pouring the water into the basin beside the vanity table, at which point Morgana notices her, a beaming smile settling on her pale face. Paler than usual, Gwen notices, for the dark circles under her eyes are striking on the white flesh. It seems Morgana hasn’t had a very restful day either.
“Gwen! I’ve hardly gotten to see you all day. What have you been getting up to?” she inquires.
“Oh, well, you know, Merlin needed help with the armour, Cleaning it properly that is, and getting out dents. He’s quite hopeless when it comes to those things. Not that I’m a master or anything! But, well, you know my father’s a blacksmith…” she rambles.
Morgana doesn’t seem to mind the rambling. She laughs, a soft tinkling sound which hangs in the air, and says, “That I know. I hear Arthur griping about it constantly, among other things. That poor Merlin has got his work cut out for him with the prince. I’m sure under your guidance he’ll do just fine though.”
She turns her back to vanity mirror, which is lucky, as it means that she doesn’t see Gwen blush under the flattery. Gwen shakes her head and moves forward to start undoing the laces of Morgana’s periwinkle gown. Her hands move down the shimmering fabric with ease, muscle memory taking over for her tired fingers.
Once she’s freed from all the layers of her day clothes, Gwen is quick to fetch the nightgown which Morgana has taken the time to lay out. She stands up, lifting her pale lean arms so Gwen can pull the gown over her head.
As soon as Morgana sits back down, Gwen goes to work taking down her hair. It’s such long beautiful hair, and she always likes to say so. It puts a bright smile on her lady's face. She runs the comb through it carefully, long indulgent strokes which rid the long dark locks of their knots and tangles. When she’s all done, she pulls it gently back from Morgana’s face, letting it fall down her back in a graceful waterfall. In the mirror, Morgana has a relaxed smile on her face, and her light green eyes are hooded.
“Oh Gwen,” she breezes. “You always take such good care of me.”
Gwen sets the comb down on the cedar table top of the vanity and says, “Of course, my lady. It’s really nothing.” Morgana makes a sound which Gwen takes to mean disagreement, and stands to wash her face. She makes quick work of it, eager to go to sleep, and as soon as she’s finished moves to get into bed. Gwen pulls back the covers for her, and Morgana sighs in pleasure as she sinks into the soft mattress. She tucks her in in a timely manner, smoothing her hands down the blanket which covers Morgana.
When she’s satisfied with Morgana’s comfort, she goes around the room, blowing out all the candles. As she reaches the final light, she pauses for but a moment. Some of the servants would think her mad, but caring for her lady is one of favourite parts of the job. She’s tired, but she always wishes this part of the day could last a little longer.
Pushing that from her mind, she blows it out and turns to where she sees the outline of Morgana in the moonlight. “Goodnight, my lady. Sleep well.”
Silence.
She goes to leave, thinking that Morgana must have already fallen asleep. Just before she reaches the door, she calls out to Gwen.
“Wait!”
“Yes my lady? What can I do for you?”
There’s a pause of reluctance in the dark, and Gwen sees her shift around.
“Gwen…” she murmurs. She waits for Morgana to get out the words she’s trying to say. “Will you… stay with me tonight?”
“Stay? my lady- “ Gwen stammers.
“It’s just the nightmares, they make it so hard to sleep, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything that makes you uncomfortable, but I’m just so tired, and you- “
“Okay,” Gwen says, cutting her panicked rambling off. “If you believe it will help, then I will.” Gwen wants to smack herself for agreeing. Propriety forbids things such as this, and for good reason. She voices this to Morgana.
“my lady, this isn’t exactly proper…”
“I know, I know. But I’ll make certain that nobody who shouldn’t know finds out. I promise.”
Neither of them say the name, but it sits heavily in both of their minds. Uther. He would be deeply displeased were he to hear of a servant laying in bed with his precious ward, even a female servant. And with what had happened with the accusations against her, and later to her father, she was cautious not to draw the King’s ire.
But Morgana had promised her protection, in not so many words. She trusted her lady to keep her safe. With that, she’s made her decision. She moves away from the door, taking soft steps toward the other side of the bed.
She begins to undo the laces of her own burnt orange dress before Morgana stops her, and urges her to turn around. Her hands work in the dark, a bit clumsy, but certain nonetheless under the mellow light of the moon. Gwen blushes in the near dark, wringing her hands as Morgana finishes. She strips down to her shift, leaving her day clothes crumpled on the floor beside the bed. She gets in, finding that Morgana has lifted back the covers for her.
It’s warm, once she’s tucked herself in, made cozy by their combined body heat. The sheets rasp in the silence as she adjusts herself, and after having settled into the sheets, she whispers once more, “Goodnight, my lady.”
There’s a pause, and then a whisper back, barely there. “Goodnight, Gwen.”
Together they drift off, heartbeats slow, and breaths moving in tandem. They have no interruptions that night.
When Gwen comes to the next morning, it’s unusually leisurely, like molasses sliding down the side of a bowl. This is unusual because Gwen has never struggled to wake in the morning. She’s always been an early bird, out of necessity and nature. Today though, as the sun shines through the white curtains, she is extremely comfortable. And warm. It is only when she feels a breath blow against her collar bone that feels compelled to wake herself up.
A breath against her collar bone…
Her eyes fly open, and she finds that she and Morgana are quite wrapped up in each other. Or more, Morgana is wrapped around her. She feels bare legs tangled with hers, and nearly squeaks when Morgana only pulls her closer in her sleep. She tries to untangle herself quietly, but by the sound of Morgana’s disgruntled sighs, she knows she failed. Morgana’s eyes are slower to open, and she doesn’t seem half as alarmed as Gwen when she realizes their position. Gwen feels the need to say it anyway.
“I’m sorry, my lady, I did not mean to end up in such a position,” she grinds out. Morgana simply smiles sleepily.
“Calm yourself Gwen, it’s alright. No nightmares last night, did you notice?” Gwen ignores how nonchalantly the apology was brushed away, and takes the opportunity to pull back to her side (and she really shouldn’t think of it as her side) of the bed. “That’s excellent my lady. You look very well rested today.” She does, too. The dark circles under her eyes are faded.
It makes Gwen feel better about waking in such a compromising position.
“I feel very well rested today,” she says, her eyes scanning over Gwen. “I can see you’re still discomfited. But I meant it when I said it was alright. I was… I was very glad to have you with me last night,” she breathes softly.
“Yes, my lady,” is all she says in reply.
“Ah well, I imagine you have much to do today Gwen. I should let you get to it.”
Gwen is relieved to hear those words, and gets out the bed with haste. She pulls on yesterday’s wrinkled clothes haphazardly and says, “Thank you, my lady. I shall be around if you need me today.” She curtsies, and before she can turn away, makes eye contact with Morgana. There it is in her eyes again. It’s a look like every lovely thing Gwen has ever seen, every sun set, every beautiful flower. It’s a look she’s seen Merlin give Arthur. And vice versa.
She doesn’t dare put a name to it, but as she rushes out the door, her traitorous mind whispers love. And in her heart, she undeniably feels it.
She goes about her daily chores feeling as well rested as Morgana claimed to be that morning, scrubbing at laundry and carrying buckets and things with a vigour which she hadn’t had the previous day. At about noon, she meets with Merlin in the armoury, for the purpose of helping the poor manservant get the stubborn dents out of Arthur’s armour before the prince could scold him for his shortcomings.
Merlin, alarmingly, takes one look at her and says, “You look different today.”
“What. No. I look like me. Like Gwen. Like how Gwen looks everyday. And Gwen is me, so I would know, and- “
“Something happened with you and Morgana,” he says, face completely deadpan as he works a dent out of one of Arthur’s chest plates. The sound of swords clashing reaches them from the training grounds. A triumphant cry rings out, presumably from the prince, followed by a groan, presumably coming from the loser.
“How could you possibly know that!” she sputters. She nearly smashes her own finger with the hammer she’s working with. She sets it down carefully and looks at Merlin head on.
“Well, you see, I’m a very powerful sorcerer,” he replies, putting down his own hammer and chest plate.
“Very funny Merlin. But you could really tell? Is it noticeable? Please don’t let it be noticeable.”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me what happened with you and Morgana,” he coaxes carefully.
For a moment, she hesitates to tell him what had happened. It wasn’t proper at all, what happened, and the sort of trouble she could get in was worrying. But this was Merlin. He would never betray any secret she told him. She’s never known him to act in such a way before.
“Morgana and I slept in the same bed,” she mumbles. “When I awoke, she was all wrapped around me.”
“That’s all?” he says doubtfully, picking up the chest plate again, examining it closely for flaws.
“What do you mean ‘that’s all’! It’s very scandalous, Merlin!”
“Well sure, but Arthur and I-” he stops short, as if realizing that he shouldn’t be saying what he was saying.
“Yes, Merlin? Go on,” she urges.
“I won’t go into it Gwen. Arthur would be furious…”
She nods, urging him on again.
“Well, I will say that it was all far more scandalous than just sleeping. King Uther would probably wring my neck himself.”
The colour drains from Gwen’s tawny skin. She’s had her suspicions of course, but knowing was much more frightening. “Oh, please be careful Merlin.”
“Don’t worry Gwen. I’ve got it all under hand. And a little advice about Morgana. Worry less. What is meant to be will be, however cliche that is.”
As Gwen is pondering that, Arthur chooses that moment to walk in.
He nods to Gwen before turning stern eyes on Merlin.
“Have you finished my armour then?”
“Nearly, sire. Just a few kinks to work out,” he emphasizes teasingly.
“Well… good. Gwen,” he nods to her again, tromping back out into the muddy training fields, face red.
Gwen and Merlin exchange a secret look, and then promptly burst into giggles.
“He’ll get me for that later,” Merlin snickers. “Thank you for your help today, Gwen. and good luck.” Gwen hands him the good-as-new pauldron, and leaves, a small smile gracing her lips.
Imagine, she thinks as she leaves the armoury, the sound of hammer against metal following her out. Merlin, gangly and approachable, a sorcerer. Well. Were it true, it might not be the most surprising thing I’ve learned today.
Night reaches Camelot again, falling over the skies and bringing peace and sleep to all the citizens. Herself included. When their nightly routine is all said and done, Morgana looks at her again with those beautiful agave eyes, and asks if Gwen will join her.
“I slept so well last night, and was hoping you would be willing. I understand if you would prefer to be in your own bed, but I would be glad to have you here,” she persuades.
Gwen can’t say no, not when Morgana had been given a reprieve from the nightmares of many previous nights. Not when she’s so lovely, her traitor mind says. She climbs in beside Morgana for the second time that week, and tries to sleep. Before she can drift away, Morgana speaks again.
“You know I care for you, right Gwen? Deeply.” Her voice is steady, and holds only truth in its words. When Gwen rolls over to face her, affection is written on her face clear as day, the moonlight shining through the curtains to highlight it.
“Of course, my lady. And I care for you as well,” Gwen replies slowly. She fidgets in her spot, uncertain of where Morgana was going. She has an inkling when Morgana replies, “Please Gwen. Just call me Morgana. No more ‘my lady’.”
“Morgana…” she tries not to stumble over the seven letters of her lady’s name. “I’m not certain this is wise. Whatever it is that you intend, it can’t be proper.” She begins to rise from the bed, meaning to leave. It’s for the best, but Morgana grabs her, pale hand gripped tight around Gwen’s forearm.
“Wait!” Morgana gasps, panicked, “Please, hear me out. Hear what I have to say, and if you still wish to leave, I won’t stop you again.” Gwen weighs her options heavily. She settles back into the sheets, as far away as she can without falling off the bed, and waits to hear the rest of what Morgana has to say. She lets go of Gwen’s arm, and sits back against the headboard, seemingly pondering over what to say. Her brow is suitably furrowed.
“I suppose it began last winter, at the solstice celebration,” she says, finding her words. “You were rushing around, finishing up with last minute preparations for the feast, making sure everything was as it was supposed to be. And when guests and court members arrived, you were making sure everyone had everything they needed or wanted.” Gwen glances over to see a soft smile on her face, and sees as it warps into a small frown. “You received no thanks, and brooked no complaints for the lack of gratitude for all your hard work.”
Gwen clicks her tongue. “That’s not true. You thanked me that night, I remember. You’ve always treated me well, better than any other lady treats her maid.”
Morgana ‘hmms’ at that, and Gwen can’t place its tone. “Besides,” she goes on anyway. “It’s my job Morgana. I expect no thanks.”
“But you should get one anyway!” Morgana bursts out, and Gwen nearly jumps at the shouted response, so different from the previous hushed tones. “You should get one because you are everything that is good, and kind, and caring!” Her face is scrunched now, hands grasping against the sheets in anger.
“You do far more than just what is expected of you,” she continues, oblivious to Gwen’s shock at her loud outburst, voice quiet again. “You care for people you don’t have to care for, and you help people you don’t have to help. You are better than any noble I’ve met in my entire damned life. Better than any king or prince, or anyone.”
Gwen is more surprised by these words than she was by the shouting, and can hardly gather her thoughts. “Morgana…” she chokes out. She coughs a bit, trying to make the words come, before giving up and falling silent. Her face must be red, and she looks down at the threading of the white sheets to avoid looking at Morgana.
“Gwen. Please look at me. Please.”
Gwen looks up, meeting intense eyes. Morgana reaches for her, and she allows for her hand to be taken. “You must know what I’m trying to say. There’s no way you can’t.”
Gwen shakes her head in denial. “You can’t. I can’t. It simply cannot be, and I think you know that.”
“It can, Gwen! It must, because…” A deep intake of breath is made. “Because I love you. It is more fact to me than that of the skies being blue and the sea being deep.”
Gwen can’t breathe. She’s trying, but the air isn’t coming in. She calms herself, and Morgana waits patiently for her to say something, anything to this proclamation. When she doesn’t, Morgana speaks again.
“You make me smile like no one else, and at night, when I’m afraid to fall asleep, the thought of you makes me strong enough to close my eyes. Your very presence drives away the nightmares. I want you with me always. If you don’t want the same… I understand. I won’t hold anything against you, and you can leave without a fuss.”
Gwen finds her lost words. “It isn’t that Morgana. It’s everything but that. It’s Uther, and Camelot, and the expectation of your rank and the lowness of my own. Maybe in another lifetime, another world… but we live in this one,” she says, her voice falsely steady.
Morgana seems to take in none of what Gwen is trying to get across. “So it isn’t that you don’t love me?” she says.
“No, Morgana. It’s not that,” Gwen replies forlornly.
“Then I have a request to make of you. I need to hear you say it. That you love me,” she demands. Gwen has never been able to refuse Morgana before, and she can’t start now. She sits up, and looks Morgana in the eyes.
“I do. I love you. In a way I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before.” The words hurt, for once they are free, there is no locking them back up. She can’t lie to herself any more.
What happens next Gwen perhaps should have been prepared for. Morgana jumps forward, and smashes her lips against Gwen’s. Her arms come up to touch Gwen, one twining around her waist whilst the other reaches up, fingers running through her dark curls.
Gwen sinks into it, both unable and not wanting to escape. Morgana’s lips are plush, and her hands are firm but gentle on Gwen, caressing and squeezing whatever she can get her hands on. Her tongue licks into Gwen’s mouth, and she thinks rather lightheaded, this is the best kiss I’ve ever had. When their chests brush, Gwen makes an embarrassing noise, but doesn’t stop.
Not until Morgana pulls back from her abruptly, pink lips swollen and eyes bright. She takes both of Gwen's hands in her own, and Gwen finds herself holding on tight. “Please give this a chance,” she begs of Gwen. “Please give me a chance, and I swear I will fill your days with joy and love.”
Gwen sighs, feeling ever the cynic. “It won’t be easy, you know. I doubt we will ever be able to be as open as a man and a woman, or two people of the same rank…”
“But?” Morgana coaxes.
“But I will. I’ll give us a chance. I love you too much not to at least try,” she admits.
“Well,” Morgana says airily. “If all else fails, we could always run away together. Find a little cottage in the woods, leave all this court nonsense behind.” She kisses Gwen again before she can scold Morgana for such mad words, and when she pulls back, Gwen is smiling at her sweetly. Yes, they could surely make this work. And someday, perhaps under Arthur’s rule, they would be able to love each other openly.
As Morgana lays down, pulling Gwen with her to cuddle up against her, she’s certain she’s never felt more sure of anything else in her life than that.
In another part of the castle…
“Honestly, Merlin, you can’t possibly expect me to believe -”
“Well believe it, sire. It’s true!” Merlin lays sprawled out across Arthur’s bed, one pale leg overlapping with the prince’s own. Arthur huffs and sits up, not bothering to move Merlin’s leg away from his own.
“ Mer lin! Don’t interrupt me, I’m your prince,” he demands. He flops back down only once Merlin deigns to look properly apologetic. He’s faking it, of course, but he does so very well, enough that Arthur lets him be. There are more important things in that moment. Like the absolute ridiculousness Merlin had just told him.
“Morgana and Guinevere can’t possibly be together. Father would never allow it, you know,” he says matter of factly. He looks so ridiculous like that, laying unclothed, chest gleaming with sweat under the candle light, all while still managing to look like a know-it-all. Merlin can’t help but laugh.
“Right,” he giggles. “That’s why you and I certainly haven’t been in your bed for the last hour. Uther wouldn’t approve, ” he says mockingly. Arthur’s face scrunches up in thought at that.
He settles on a confused uncertainty and says, “It just doesn’t make sense. It’s so strange to think of, isn’t it?”
“That’s because she’s essentially your sister, Arthur. And there are stranger things to have happened,” he grins, taking the prince's tanned hand in his own.
“How would you know?” he scoffs, face doing that cute scrunchy thing again.
Merlin simply gives him a secret smile and plants a kiss on Arthur’s chest. All of that is a story for another time.