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“Whatever relationship exists between Arthur and… Gwen. You must destroy it.”
Morgause’s words echoed in Morgana’s head as she watched Gwen and Arthur, their secret smiles, their secret touches.
How could she have been so blind? It just didn’t seem possible for Gwen, her Gwen, the kindest and most loyal person Morgana had ever met to have fallen for someone who upheld the laws that killed her father. To have fallen for Morgana’s brother, who got everything that should rightfully be hers.
It tasted sour, like betrayal, and she thought of Gwen as Queen. Mine, she thought, again and again, like a magpie. She pictured the glittering crown, and Gwen’s glowing smile. Mine.
Morgause had been right. Morgana could trust no one in Camelot. Even the purest of hearts grew rotten and sick within the walls of the Citadel.
Morgana had always been a good actress. She knew how to cover her tracks, how to ensure that her lies were so wrapped in layers of fact that they might as well be true. She would need a reason, she decided. Gwen was smart, smarter than anyone gave her credit for, and if Morgana showed a sudden interest in her relationship she would be rightfully suspicious.
It was easy, really, the solution that came to her. It was genius.
Gwen was in Morgana’s room, where she always was. Morgana wondered for a moment when she’d found the time to strike up a relationship with Arthur, and how Morgana hadn’t noticed her absence. She thought of her year away, and then of sneaking off to see Morgause, to practice her magic, to weaken Uther, and bitterness welled in her throat. She’d been too distracted of late.
“It must be hard,” Morgana said.
“What’s that?” Gwen asked, already closed off, already on alert.
“Hiding your feelings for him.” Morgana knew how to wrap her lies in truths, knew how to make herself believe what she was saying. She meant this. Gwen knew she meant it. Gwen knew she understood, knew that Morgana, when she wanted, had never wanted men. Gwen had once been the keeper of Morgana’s secrets, and Morgana of hers, before they had both gotten too many.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Gwen said, not turning around. She had never been a good liar, not to Morgana anyway. They knew each other too well, too thoroughly.
“It’s not fair,” Morgana said, schooling her face into heartbroken neutrality when Gwen began to turn.
“It’s the way the world is,” Gwen said softly, and it was the gentlest she’d been with Morgana in ages. She must have seen Morgana’s old self in that, the protestation, the demand for justice.
“I mean,” Morgana said, and swallowed again. It shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t feel like she really was ripping her heart out of her chest and letting Gwen do what she would with it. She knew how to wrap her lies in truth, how to make herself believe what she was saying, but it shouldn’t be this hard.
“Morgana?” Gwen said, still gentle, still the woman she’d once been, who had brought Morgana flowers and comforted her after nightmares. She’d been calling her ‘my lady’ more and more lately. Morgana hated it.
“I loved you first.”
Morgana snapped her mouth shut as Gwen’s fell open, and it took very little for her to appear horrified with herself.
“I’m sorry,” Morgana said, and she could hear her heartbeat, blood thundering in her ears. “You should go.”
“I- Morgana-”
“Please, Gwen,” she whispered, and Gwen left with barely the impression of a curtsy. As shellshocked as she got, Morgana knew.
She knew it was envy that curled in her chest, but it didn’t matter. She could apologize to Gwen, give her some time off. She could ensure Uther found out. He would never allow it, his son and the serving girl. He’d never been able to look beyond status, beyond surface level. It was what made him vulnerable, what made Morgana certain she stood a chance at taking his crown. It was what made him treat every discovery as deception, as betrayal.
Morgana was intimately familiar with fear. It drove her to desperation. What Uther would do if he discovered who she was, what she was. He would hurt Gwen if he found out about this, Morgana was certain. He hurt people when angry, and he wouldn’t hurt Arthur. Arthur was, as always, a shimmering exception, his crown jewel. Morgana envied that, too.
Gwen didn’t deserve to be hurt, but Morgana thought again of her dream, of the power of it. Like destiny, like truth. Gwen on the throne of Camelot, an unreformed and immoral Camelot. She would not let that happen. Better Gwen die kind than live to become such a monster.
A different maid came to dress Morgana for bed. She had expected nothing less, but it still stung, still strengthened her resolve.
The next day, Morgana watched Gwen and Arthur at breakfast, and the difference threw her. Gone were the smiles, the brushes of hands. They would not even meet each other’s eyes.
Gwen met her eyes, just once, her expression unreadable.
“You seem distracted this morning,” Uther said, and to her surprise it was directed at Arthur.
Arthur cleared his throat. “Sorry, father. We’ve new squires joining this afternoon, I’m just trying to figure out how to set the right standard.”
Uther nodded approvingly, and Morgana lifted her goblet to her mouth to hide her smile. Loathe as she was to give Arthur credit for anything, he had written the book on lying to Uther. She’d taken lessons from watching him, when she had first come to the castle and learned that her age and her status would not protect her from Uther’s wrath if she wasn’t careful with hers.
Morgana attended the petitioners by Uther’s side, but was gently sent out before the Council meeting, as she always was. Her rage burned familiar at that, and she was relieved to feel it flickering in her chest again. Fear was a powerful motivator, but an unpleasant one. She would rather fuel her heart with the fires of everyone who had burned at her father’s hand.
Gwen was in her chambers when she returned to them.
“I broke things off with Arthur,” she said before Morgana could get a word out.
“What?”
“Yesterday evening.”
Morgana’s tentative plans to have Uther discover the relationship, or to make it appear that one of their affections lay elsewhere, or to get a love spell involved suddenly seemed ridiculously overcomplicated.
“I’m sorry,” Morgana said, and tried to mean it. “I never meant- I didn’t know you would do that,” Morgana said, and did mean it. “I want you to be happy.”
“I couldn’t have been, knowing it was hurting you,” Gwen said, and she did not look heartbroken or anguished, just resolute.
“I don’t understand.”
Gwen smiled at her sideways, a smile Morgana had not seen in quite some time. It was fond, exasperated. “I loved you first,” Gwen said, and left, saving Morgana from needing to find a response.
I couldn’t have been, knowing it was hurting you. Morgana turned Gwen’s words over in her head, looked at them from every angle, tried to find a seed of deception. She couldn’t.
Gwen was still as kind and loving as she had always been, and that meant Morgause was wrong.
A knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts before she could do something dangerous like wonder what else her sister might be wrong about.
“Come in.”
Arthur stepped into her room, almost bashfully.
“Arthur. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“She said your name,” Arthur said.
“Have you been hit in the head again? Should I fetch Gaius?”
Arthur glared at her. “Guinevere. She broke things off with me last night, and when I asked why, she just said your name.”
Morgana slumped against the back of her chair. Goodness, Gwen.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I swear, I didn’t know she would do that.”
“What did you say to her?” Arthur didn’t even sound angry, just confused.
“I think I told her I love her.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows, and sat across from her. “Oh.”
Morgana looked away. It felt too true, all of this. She hadn’t caught when exactly she’d slipped into honesty. Perhaps she’d been telling the truth from the beginning.
She wasn’t an idiot, she’d known how she once felt about Gwen, but she had thought that her year with Morgause had changed her irrevocably, had plucked useless sentiment from her heart and filled it only with righteous anger. Evidently, she’d been wrong. She tried to convince herself that it didn’t matter, tried to remind herself that the man sitting across from her was her competition, her usurper, not her brother or her friend.
Arthur made that difficult. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Morgana gripped the handles of her chair. She could feel her magic twist inside her, ready to splinter the wood. “For what?”
“It must have been hard.”
Morgana took a deep breath, unclenched her hands, and on the exhale said, “you’re not angry with me?”
Arthur looked at her like she was an idiot. “For what? Loving Guinevere? That would be rather hypocritical.”
Morgana raised her eyebrow. “That’s a big word.” Arthur rolled his eyes, and she continued, “it’s my fault she wanted to stop seeing you.”
“That was her decision, and she wouldn’t stand for anyone saying anything else,” Arthur said. “Besides, it wasn’t fair to her. All the sneaking around. She deserves better.”
“Better than you,” Morgana said, nodding. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
Arthur threw a scarf at her, and she caught it, grinning in spite of herself.
He stood, heading for the door. “Well, I’ve got things to do. I’m glad we had this talk. It’s been a while.”
Morgana tried to breathe around the lump in her throat. “I’ve missed you too,” she said, and found she meant it.
She and Arthur bickered through dinner, until she caught Uther smiling at them and her anger flared again. She retreated to her room citing a headache, and cradled her anger to her chest, keeping it close, keeping it burning.
She was somehow unsurprised when someone knocked on her door. She was rather surprised to see Merlin when she opened it.
“What did you do?” He asked, all suspicion, and she kindled her rage with it. He’d changed, slowly and then all at once, distant until he poured poison down her throat. She’d thought after the Druid boy that maybe she’d be able to count on Merlin, but he was just like the rest. He learned of her magic, and he stopped trusting her entirely.
“About what?” She asked, raising an eyebrow to suggest that she’d done plenty, and he’d have to be more specific.
“Arthur and Gwen.”
“Oh, that,” Morgana said, and she couldn’t quite muster the nonchalance she wanted.
“What did you do?”
Morgana looked him in the eye. She was tired of this. She had one more secret she held over Merlin’s head, an ever dangling sword, and it was time to drop it. “I’d have thought you’d be thanking me. He’s all yours now.”
Merlin blanched, and Morgana smiled. Bullseye. She expected denial, false ignorance, more anger.
Instead, Merlin said “it doesn’t work like that.”
Morgana laughed, hollow. “Believe me, I know.”
“Did you threaten her?” Merlin asked.
Morgana glared at him. “All I did was tell her I loved her,” she snapped. Merlin blinked rapidly at her. Morgana stared back, unyielding. “It was her choice. I didn’t do anything.”
Merlin looked away, then back up at her. He looked thrown.
“We’re not so different, are we?” Morgana asked.
Merlin swallowed. “Maybe not.”
He left, and she sent a message to Morgause at once. She had to follow up on a suspicion.
“They are not your friends,” her sister told her that night. “You cannot forget that, Morgana.”
Morgana smiled, and did what she did best. She lied. “I know.”
She walked back with a heavy heart. Here was evidence that Camelot did not corrupt indiscriminately, and Morgause ignored it because it did not suit her ends. Just as Uther would.
Her sister wasn’t evil like her father was, of course. Morgause claimed her when no one else would, loved her not in spite of what she was but because of it. Still, Morgana had always been smart, always able to see shades of gray where others refused to. Morgause did only what she thought was justice, and she did what she thought was best for Morgana because she cared for her. That didn’t mean she was always right.
“Where have you been?” Gwen asked when Morgana returned to her room, and she jumped.
“Gwen! You frightened me.”
Gwen said nothing, looking at her with her hands on her hips.
“I was just out for a walk.”
Gwen sighed. “Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” She asked, horribly gentle.
Morgana closed her eyes. Without thinking, she said, “did you really love me?”
“For most of my life,” Gwen said easily. “How could I not? Your passion, your kindness, your honesty.”
What changed? Morgana wanted to ask, but she knew the answer, and she wasn’t ready to hear it.
Gwen readied her for bed, and made sure to blow out every candle before she left. Morgana lay staring at the ceiling for a long time.
She was dangerous when she wanted something, she knew that. Love, power, justice. Morgana wanted with a kind of all consuming ache that refused to be ignored.
I’m sorry, sister, she thought before she fell asleep.
When Gwen finished lacing her dress the next morning, Morgana turned and caught her hand before she could leave.
“I’ve been lying to you for a long time,” she said.
Gwen met her eyes, steady as always. “I know.”
“I’d like to tell you the truth. If you’ll hear it.”
Gwen covered their joined hands with her other one, and smiled. “I would love to.”
“I have magic,” Morgana said in a rush. “My nightmares are visions. The fire was me. I didn't choose it, and I couldn’t control it.”
Gwen didn’t look scared, didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed Morgana’s hand, and said, “that must have been terrifying.”
Morgana nearly wept. Instead, she told Gwen nearly everything. She told her about Merlin and the poison, about her year with Morgause, about trying to kill Uther, and finding out she was his daughter, and the throne that should be hers.
Gwen listened, and did not leave. It took hours. When Morgana finished, she stood and said, “right. We need to talk to Arthur.”
Morgana stood, backing away. “You’d turn me in?”
“Of course not. Morgana, please. Don’t be afraid of me. Haven’t I proved that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you?”
Morgana stopped her frantic retreat. Gwen had.
“Arthur won’t hurt you either. He loves you.”
“I’ve tried to kill him.”
Gwen pursed her lips. “Yes. And if you’d really wanted to, he’d be dead already, wouldn’t he?”
It was a secret Morgana hadn’t even admitted to herself, and there Gwen went pulling it out of her like it was nothing.
Morgana nodded. Gwen beamed. If this was the reward for her honesty, Morgana thought she might never lie again.
“I’m going to get your breakfast and then find Arthur, alright?”
“Bring Merlin too,” Morgana said, and Gwen looked surprised. “He knows half of it already. The worse half.”
Gwen sighed. “That explains some things.”
Gwen returned with a tray of food and then left to find Arthur and Merlin. Morgana ate slowly, trying to keep herself calm.
When Gwen returned with the others in tow, she had to admit to herself that she had failed at that.
She told them everything, from the candle fire to the eye of the phoenix. She talked about Morgause, and Arthur closed his eyes before turning to Merlin.
“She wasn’t lying, was she? About my mother.” Merlin shook his head minutely, and Arthur rubbed his face. “We will be having words later.”
Merlin nodded, and Morgana almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
When she finished, Arthur took her hand. “You will never be alone again,” he said. “I give you my word, Morgana. Someday, things will be different.”
The light from the window caught Arthur’s hair, and for a moment Morgana saw what everyone else must see in him. Not her brat of a brother, not her first friend, not Uther’s son, but King Arthur, the great man he would one day become.
Still.
“How many people will die in the meantime? How many sorcerers who never chose it? Uther is a plague on this land, Arthur. He can’t be allowed to stay in power.”
“He’s my father,” Arthur said helplessly.
“He’s my father too,” Morgana replied.
Gwen slipped her hand into Morgana’s. “Perhaps this is a problem for another day,” she said gently.
“Every day he remains on the throne is a day my people are killed!”
“She’s right,” Merlin said suddenly. All of them turned to stare at him. He hadn’t said a word since entering. He looked Morgana in the eyes, and said, “you’re right. But the chaos that will come from a civil war or an assassination will hurt your people too. It will hurt all the people of Camelot.”
Morgana dug her fingernails into her palms. “Then what is the right thing?”
“He won’t live forever,” Arthur said at last. “Perhaps- perhaps a regency can be brought on. Perhaps we can soften his iron fist.”
Morgana laughed at that, and Arthur smiled.
“Yeah, probably not. I can’t depose him, Morgana, and I can’t let you kill him. But I can promise you two things.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“When I am King, the very first thing I will do is repeal the magic ban. The second thing I will do is make you Crown Princess.”
It was more than she’d ever dared hope for, and not nearly enough.
“I won’t let another sorcerer die,” Morgana said. “If it comes to that, Arthur, I won’t hesitate.”
“But until then?” Arthur asked.
Morgana thought of the civil wars she’d heard of between siblings, the destruction they wrought. She thought of the people she’d only ever wanted to protect. She thought about who Arthur would become if magic killed his father, if she killed their father. She thought of all the lives that could be saved if she chose not to be like Uther, if she chose to manage her anger, if she chose the people over power.
“Until then,” she agreed, and Arthur‘s answering smile was blinding. “One more thing,” she said.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to tell him I know that I’m his daughter.”
Arthur nodded. “I will stand with you when you do. Sister.” He smiled crookedly, and added, “he won’t be able to keep you off the council anymore.”
Morgana blinked. “You noticed that?”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? Don’t answer that.” Morgana grinned. “Yes, I noticed. I’ve been trying to persuade him to give you a seat for years.”
“You have?” Morgana asked, voice wavering.
Arthur met her eyes. “I have.” Arthur looked out the window. “I should get to training, and I think I need to have a rather long talk with Merlin, but I’ll find you in the evening?”
Morgana nodded, relieved. Merlin trailed after Arthur with his head down, and shut the door behind himself.
“I’m proud of you,” Gwen said.
“I don’t know what I’m going to tell Morgause,” Morgana said, unable to stop thinking about it. No matter what she did she was betraying someone, her family could not be whole. She would end up alone again.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Morgana looked up. “We?”
Gwen smiled. “Unless you don’t want my help.”
“I do,” Morgana said, shocked by how desperately she did. “I do.”
Gwen reached out and squeezed her hand, and Morgana felt all the love and joy she had set aside in favour of justice flood back into her.
“I love you,” she said, and the part of her heart that was rage and bile and righteous desperation rioted against it, but she couldn’t help it.
Gwen hummed, a pleased little smile on her face. “Close your eyes.”
Morgana squinted at her suspiciously. “Why?”
“Trust me.”
Goddess help her, Morgana did. She closed her eyes.
Gwen’s lips met hers for a gentle moment, then pulled away, and Morgana’s eyes flew open. She stared at Gwen, absolutely breathless.
“Why?” Morgana managed to say again.
“Because you’ve trusted me enough that it may have changed everything,” Gwen said. “I thought I’d lost you, these past few months, and I have rarely known a grief so great.”
Morgana swallowed, unable to apologize. Instead she took Gwen’s face in her hands as Gwen used to do with her after nightmares, and kissed her forehead.
“We’ll figure it out,” Gwen said again, bringing her hands up to rest on Morgana’s. “Together.”
“Together,” Morgana agreed, and leaned in to kiss her again.