Bury all the memories, cover them with dirt…
You run away, you hide away, to the other side of the universe.
Where you’re safe from all that hunts you down.
I will race you to the waterside,
and from the edge of Ireland shout out loud
so they could hear it in America.
It’s all for you.
Jealous Gwaine | Morwaine AU
I love them so much!
Morgana was strong, so cold and haughty, as if nothing had changed. She turned down the corridors of Morgause’s castle, tugging Gwaine harshly behind her.
‘My lady.’ She stared down the guards that approached. ‘We thought that the prisoner had escaped.’
‘Does he look like he’s escaped to you?’ Morgana snapped, glaring at them from beneath her lashes and pulling on the chain for effect.
‘No my lady.’
‘So you are still are still standing in my way because…?’
The guard who had spoken turned pale, and it was so very evident that they all feared her. ‘My apologies.’ He and his companions moved hastily away, almost as if they wanted to run from her. Morgana watched them go, scowling, waiting for them to turn the corner before she started to lead Gwaine away again.
She glanced back at him. He was staring at her, and she held his gaze. ‘Something you wanted to say, Sir Knight?’
Gwaine laughed. ‘Just wondering if I picked the greatest position to be in, my lady,’ he replied, nodding to his bound hands. Morgana wanted to laugh with him. She wished she could be as carefree as he was despite his chains. But to her the castle seemed to be closing in around her, ready to break her once more. In the end she sent him a smirk, masking the turmoil beneath.
When they passed through the castle gates she dropped the chain and unlocked the cuffs; Gwaine let the manacles fall from his wrists a second later. Then silently they moved towards the forest in the darkness.
Morgana was so very strong until they reached the tree line. There she stopped dead in her tracks and for a moment she just stood, still and silent. Then she started to shake, and heart-wrenching sobs wracked through her and she crumbled, falling to her knees in the undergrowth.
She couldn’t quite comprehend why he crawled over to her and took her in his arms. She couldn’t really comprehend why he was still there at all. But she wasn’t going to refuse his comfort, not when it was the only comfort she had, or had had in three years. Finally she was free, and for this moment in time she wasn’t alone.
Morgause had already been inside her head when Gwaine had first come to Camelot. She had been there when Uther banished him for standing up to two knights. She remembered he had seemed rough, but good, and he had said that nobility is defined by what you do, not by who you are. In the deep recesses of her mind Morgana had held on that. After so long of fighting against Uther it had seemed a confirmation that she had not been wrong in defying him. That perhaps she was not crazy. That she wasn’t insane for caring about Gwen or Merlin, or for not believing that having magic made you inherently evil. Morgana wished she could have met him then or earlier, as herself. She liked to think that he would have liked her.
When her sobs subsided and she managed to calm down to the point where she was a teary mess instead of a complete wreck, he began to murmur very softly in her ear. She focussed on his warm, rough voice. ‘Morgana, we have to move. Are you hurt?’ She shook her head. ‘Ok, I want you to get up, and we’re going to run. Can you do that for me?’ This time she nodded and he pulled away, standing and then holding out his hands to help her. ‘Ok.’ Still holding one of her hands, he brushed a leaf out her hair before tugging her away into the forest. ‘Come on.’
They ran until dawn; Morgana didn’t care where they were going and she lost track of their direction after the first few turns. Gwaine had pulled her into the first river they came to; wading upstream until they had begun to freeze in the water, determined to lose anyone Morgause had sent after them. She had collapsed as the sun began to rise in a dreary, cloud-filled sunrise blocked out by the trees. It made her feel a little better to see that Gwaine looked nearly as exhausted as she was.
There was a stream nearby, and Morgana made her way over to the water’s edge, peering into the surface to see her reflection. Hastily she began to undo her hair, promising herself that at the soonest possible chance she would destroy every aspect of Morgause that remained, short of clawing off her own skin. Her desperation to tug the pins from her hair was almost painful, and when she got Morgause’s ornamental silver comb she ripped it out and cast it into the stream. She scrubbed at her face and her hands. She felt corrupted, monstrous. Still panting and cradling her head in her hand she glanced sideways at Gwaine. ‘Where are we?’ she asked, her voice coming out as a mere croak.
‘I have no idea.’ Gwaine seemed to almost enjoy that fact as he flopped back into a cool patch of grass and stared around at the trees. She must have looked apprehensive because he added, ‘Lost is good. Lost means we’re not dead or captured.’ It didn’t take a genius to realise that Gwaine would take lost, and maybe even dead, over being a prisoner. ‘Don’t suppose you want to explain what the hell that was back there.’
Morgana almost scoffed. ‘Not really, no.’
‘Didn’t think so.’
He didn’t push. Morgana appreciated that, though she knew eventually she’d have to say something. But not yet, her mind was still reeling in disbelief. She wasn’t yet convinced that this wasn’t some sadistic trick of Morgause’s and she that was still locked away inside her own head.
She had never quite thought through what she would do if she did ever manage to escape. Mostly because she had thought it impossible. Without Morgause and without her old life in Camelot she had nowhere to go. Morgana forced back more tears with a shaky breath. What was she doing? Never in her entire life had she been so unsure. She had always been certain of something, whether it was her stance against Uther’s harsh and hate-filled laws, or her determination to be free of her sister. But now, now anything but staying right where she was by the stream scared her to death.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Why? Do you want me to leave?’ came Gwaine’s quick reply, though he made no effort to move.
Morgana pulled her knees into her chest and rested her chin atop them. ‘No, I mean before you were captured. What were you doing so far from Camelot?’
Gwaine laughed. ‘Looking for you actually.’ He seemed to be eternally grinning, one corner of his mouth tugged up further than the other in a playful, amused smile. How he could find entertainment in such things was beyond her. ‘Stupid really. There’d been no sign of you for a while and it was noted that there was probably far more information to be had in the outlying villages than Camelot, so I volunteered. I don’t think they were actually serious when they suggested it.’ His grin widened. ‘No news is good news, you know. But I got sick of playing soldiers, jumped at the chance to be on the road again. And out of that armour. Really need to talk Arthur about that one, honestly, the goddamn cloak is enough to drive me insane, not to mention–’ Morgana laughed softly and he stopped. She couldn’t help herself. Most she had met had been proud to wear the heavy, crimson cloak of the Knights of Camelot. Gwaine raised his head a little to look at her. ‘There we go,’ he murmured, as if his intention had been to make her laugh all along.
Morgana lay back as Gwaine had done. She wondered what would happen now. Would he take her to Camelot to be tried by the king? If so she doubted she would fight him. Perhaps he would leave her here and return to Camelot alone… Somehow that seemed less appealing to her than being his prisoner. She was already lost and unsure; she didn’t want to be alone as well.
For the longest time they were silent, resting after the events of the night. Gwaine might have fallen asleep for all she knew, and she was drifting away from consciousness herself. ‘It was a spell,’ she whispered into the silence. ‘Please, you have to believe me, it was a spell.’
Why are you doing this to me?’ Gwaine recognised that instantly as Morgana. But at the same time it didn’t sound like Morgana at all. It was a broken plea, weak. Not hard and cold and cruel.
With a fleeting, longing look down the empty corridor and his escape route, he moved closer to the door, careful to avoid the shaft of light cast by the open gap and damning his curiosity all the while. He could see her there, tears streaming down her face, glistening in the candlelight. And she was on her knees. She looked exhausted, fragile even. This was not the wicked sorceress Gwaine had fought before. Who was she?
‘Please, just let me go.’ She was begging. At that point Gwaine pressed himself closer to the wall as if to melt into it. If Morgana, of all people, was begging then he didn’t really want to know who was standing over her. Her hands suddenly came up to her head and she screamed as if in pain, sobs tearing from her lips. ‘No please, no!’ Regardless of what she had done in the past, the sound made Gwaine’s heart twist painfully. He passed it off as the screams of any pretty woman – and he had to admit, underneath her callousness and hate, Morgana was a pretty woman – were enough to drive him mad. But another part of his brain, the part he usually tried to kill with ale, told him he was a goddamn liar and that it was something more.
Morgana’s screams stopped. And then there was another voice, cold and commanding like he had come to associate with Morgana. ‘It seems you have grown stronger sister.’ Sister? But that could only be Morgause. And Morgause was supposed to be dead. There was no mistaking it though; she circled Morgana and came into Gwaine’s view, Morgause was alive and had Morgana as her prisoner.
‘Exactly,’ spat Morgana, a little more like the woman Gwaine knew. ‘We were supposed to be sisters. How could a sister do this to me? When I thought I had no one else you were supposed to help me. But you used me! You took everything from me: my home, my friends, my family. You destroyed me!’ The slap was resounding, causing Gwaine to cringe, and it sent Morgana to the floor. She only just managed to catch herself before her head collided with the stone. All of a sudden it seemed to Gwaine that everything they thought they knew about Morgana had been turned upside down.
‘Here’s how it’s going to be, sweet sister.’ Morgause sneered. Morgana pushed herself back up to her knees, her lip curled in defiance. ‘You are going to let me back into that pretty little head of yours. And then you are going to kill Arthur, and anyone else who gets in my way.’ Morgause crouched in front of Morgana, placing her hands on either side of the younger girl’s face, muttering an incantation that made her eyes glow gold. Morgana’s expression contorted in pain again, her own hands coming up to try and pull Morgause’s away.
‘No!’ Morgause was thrown away with an invisible force, incredibly strong, that Gwaine swore he felt through the wall. ‘No, I won’t let you hurt them.’ Morgana’s chest was heaving with her efforts. But Morgause only cackled when she stood again and righted herself.
‘You seem to be tiring there, Morgana,’ she giggled, an off sounding giggle that sent shivers through Gwaine. ‘How much longer do you think you can hold me off?’ Morgana didn’t answer. ‘Come on, surely you want to help me. These people betrayed you. Why protect them?’
‘They never meant to hurt me. They haven’t betrayed me like you have,’ Morgana protested.
‘Uther’s dead.’ Morgana shot coldly. Gwaine didn’t pretend that Morgana, with or without Morgause’s influence, harboured any kind feelings towards the late king. He knew how tyrannical Uther had been and himself would have happily seen him dead. He was sure Morgana was the same; Merlin had told him once – briefly and reluctantly – of Morgana’s punishments for speaking out at the hands of her guardian. However, revenge against Arthur and Camelot now didn’t seem to be something she was capable of.
‘Uther lied to you. Denied you your rightful place as a daughter and a princess. He persecuted everyone like us and he would have seen you executed. And Arthur! Arthur stood by did he not? Stood by and let you be treated that way.’
‘Arthur protected me when he could. You know nothing of what you speak.’
‘Stop deluding yourself sister.’ Morgause’s words were harsh, yet she seemed to be revelling in each proverbial knife she drove into Morgana’s heart. ‘And lets not forget Merlin. That meddling servant pretended to be your friend, but he turned you away when you needed him most, and then he poisoned you–‘
‘To save Camelot from you!’ There was another slap. Gwaine had frozen. If what he was hearing was correct, all this time Morgana had been in some way controlled by her sister, forced against Camelot and Arthur, when all she really wanted was to help them. He slumped against the wall. This was bad. Very bad, and Arthur needed to know about it.
He could escape, now, easily. But with a glance back at the broken princess he knew he could not. He knew he’d never forgive himself for leaving her behind. He had no weapon, no defence, and slim to none chances. He had always liked those odds before, had he not? So gathering the best of his courage he pushed the door wide and strode in to confront the two women.
‘Now, don’t stop on my account,’ he grinned. Inside he was hard and calculating as how best to get himself and Morgana out of this mess, but the glib comments on the outside made him feel better. Getting guards involved in this probably wouldn’t be the best idea, so he closed the heavy door behind him, leaving the three of them alone.
‘What fun,’ Morgause mocked. ‘Tell me Morgana, would you like to kill him or should I?’ Morgana looked like a frightened child, staring at Gwaine in shock.
‘Aw come on now, surely it doesn’t need to come to that.’
Morgause advanced on him, hands raised, ready to send him flying across the room or whatever else she did with spells, when Morgana stepped into her path. Morgause stopped as if stunned. ‘You would protect him,’ she asked. ‘You would protect this drunkard knight–’ Ok, Gwaine supposed that may be true. ‘–A womanising, good-for-nothing stain on society.’
‘Hey, now that’s not very nice!’ But amusing, Gwaine couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Yes.’ That was all Morgana said, never moving from in front of Gwaine. With a bark of laughter Morgause asked why. Then Morgana smiled, a coy little smirk and Gwaine swore he had never seen anything more beautiful. He could almost see it: the most beautiful woman in Camelot’s court wearing a jewel-toned dress and that smile, entering a feast with all eyes on her. ‘Because you said it yourself, sister: Gwaine – so handsome, so selfless.’
Gwaine didn’t have very long to be shocked by Morgana’s response. Oh, he remembered all right. The first time he heard that, Morgana had told him, or he supposed it was actually Morgause, he’d have to sing for his supper. Morgause had been mocking him then, but it was the way Morgana said it now, as if it were an admirable truth, that surprised him. Not as much as when she lunged at Morgause though.
Morgana managed a fistful of her sister’s dress and was able to send them both tumbling to the floor. It was almost clever; Gwaine was sure Morgause had been prepared to fight this battle with magic but Morgana, it seemed, had other ideas. They struggled for a time, until Morgause looked as if she was getting the upper hand and Gwaine hauled her away. Usually he would never lay a hand on a lady, unless invited, but he wasn’t quite sure Morgause deserved such a title or consideration anymore. She dodged the swing he aimed at her head, but not the blow to the stomach, and she doubled over in pain.
‘You think such crude methods can defeat me?’ Morgause spat, raising a hand. But she was blown back again, this time all the way across the room. Morgana had stood, her arm outstretched and eyes ablaze. With one last twist of her hand, Morgause’s head cracked against the stone wall and was knocked out cold.
Gwaine could hear the distant rumbling of guards becoming aware of the commotion they had caused. Morgana continued to approach her sister. ‘Morgana,’ he said but she didn’t turn. ‘Morgana.’ Gwaine crossed to her, stepping between her and Morgause and placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘I get that you want her dead. I do. She deserves nothing less,’ he told her urgently. ‘Can you hear that? That is Morgause’s guards figuring out something is wrong between my absence and the raucous we’ve caused in here.’ Their footsteps were heavy in the halls. ‘Morgana, listen to me: either we kill her now and get captured, or we run and live to fight another day.’ Morgana looked lost, unsure, and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes that said she was willing to die if it meant Morgause died with her. Beseechingly, his hands tightening on her, he asked, ‘Please run with me.’
In some part of him it wasn’t just a ploy to get her to escape because it was right or chivalrous or whatever the Knight’s Code said he was supposed to do in situations like this. In some part of his heart he meant it, truly wanting them to make it out of this together for no other reason than to see her safe. It worked though, snapping her out of whatever bloodlust she had been immersed in. She swept a set of manacles from the ground and offered them to him. ‘I can’t fight anymore,’ she said. ‘I can’t – please, act a prisoner and we can walk out of here.’ It might have been stupid to trust her so soon, but Gwaine let her fasten the chains around his wrists without a second thought.
britcroft asked: awwww i love you blog so much ! did you also fangirl like me with that scene ?
ANY type of interaction, big or small, is cause enough for a serious case of fangirlism.
It’s hard out there for a Morwaine shipper.