Posts tagged guinevere
Posts tagged guinevere
My birthday - ice cream and butterfly sunglasses and mini!Gwen and mini!Morgana came too.
Title: The Bodyguard
Warnings: None. Unless you count Morgana threatening to turn a maid into a frog.
Summary: Gwen is the rightful once and future queen. Morgana is her spectacularly bad tempered bodyguard.
Morgana stamps into court at a little past lunch time that afternoon, dragging a kitchen maid by the hair.
“Found her!” She shakes the maid.
The maid is screaming and sobbing which makes it rather hard to hear what Morgana is saying, but Gwen gets the gist.
“Morgana, put the girl down.”
Morgana has a particularly manic gleam in her eyes. Gwen knows it to be the same one she gets at the prospect of going to war or castrating the men who attack unsuspecting women down dark allies.
“But I’d so much rather take my knife to her! Cut her up – I’ve a potion that calls for the bones of a virgin – ”
This is not helpful. The girl’s screams grow higher pitched and desperate. Morgana seems to think that shaking her harder might quiet her, but it in fact has the opposite effect.
The court stands petrified before the spectacle.
“Morgana,” Gwen begins again, louder and firmer. “Put. The girl. Down. You’re hurting her.”
Morgana snorts, sighs, and tosses the girl away from her in disgust. “Won’t you even let me turn her into a toad?”
“No,” Gwen folds her arms. “What has she done?”
“Tried to poison you.” Morgana holds up a little vile of something grey and evil smelling, “I found her putting this into your goblet. Tell the queen who paid you?”
The girl begins to babble, shaking, incoherent, eyes huge, hands clasped – she makes absolutely no sense. Gwen sighs, orders her guards to have the girl taken down to the dungeons until she has calmed enough to talk, and then retires to her chambers, calling Morgana after her.
Morgana skulks along in her wake like a sulky child.
Or poisoning her.
Or just in general torturing her.
Can we please STOP pretending that that’s okay just because she happens to be on the wrong side of this narrative?
In fact I am over this show torturing women IN GENERAL. It wasn’t fun when they kept hurling Gwen in jail and threatening to execute her, either. It was ESPECIALLY not fun when Morgana was the one orchestrating it, because oh my god can we not have a single female/female relationship on Merlin where ONE OF THEM ENDS UP DEAD OR INSANE?
I am sick of seeing women suffer so men can be heroic. I am sick of seeing women suffer so men can have character development. I am sick of seeing women suffer in lieu of having character development themselves. It’s cliched, it’s problematic, and it makes me feel faintly sick. I would like something else to watch, please.
Title: Royal Heirs and Graces
Spoilers/warnings: Discussion about and descriptions of multiple miscarriages. Yeeeah this one’s kinda angsty, folks. SORRY.
Summary: Gwen finds herself ambivalent about her inability to produce a royal heir.
Royal Heirs and Graces
All in all, there were three pregnancies, and none of them came to anything.
Gwen decided not to tell Arthur about the first. In fairness, she herself was unaware of it until after it was already over. She had been sometime late for bleeding, but there had been so much else to occupy her time that she hadn’t dwelt on it, assuming simply that stress might have delayed things. Then the bleeding had come, but it had been unusually heavy – full of thick, dark, gelatinous lumps – and there had been far worse pain than she was used to.
Already suspicious, she had gone to Gaius, and Gaius, upon careful examination, had agreed that yes – in fact this was most likely a miscarriage.
“It’s not unusual with the first,” he had told her, in a tone that Gwen was sure he meant to be reassuring. “I think perhaps the woman’s body doesn’t know quite how to react, and so does away with what it assumes to be an intruder before it can recognise the baby. Still, I wouldn’t worry – the second always sticks. You might even look at this as good news – you can have children, Guinevere.”
It had been six months since her marriage. Were people really already worrying that the king’s wife might not only be common us muck but barren as his mother had been? Good Lord…
“Might we keep this between us?” She asked Gaius, pulling her skirts back over her legs. “I… would rather not tell Arthur. It would only upset him, over something that… well, isn’t there anymore, is it?”
He gave her a long, stern glance. Gwen didn’t flinch. She was queen of Camelot, and her body was sluicing royal blood, and she would not be cowed.
“As you wish, my lady.”
It was the first time he had ever addressed her as such.
Title: The Queen’s Blood
Warnings: Yup folks - it’s a period fic. Blood and everything.
Summary: Gwen has to explain the basics of female bodily functions to her husband, who is somewhat alarmed to wake up to bloody sheets two days after his marriage.
The second night after her wedding, Gwen bled. She had suspected it might happen as such, her usual rhythm being what it was – indeed she thanked her lucky stars it hadn’t happened the day before. Bit of a shock for Arthur, when he already had so much to be surprised by that night.
It was Arthur who woke her, in fact, in a panic.
“There’s blood! There’s blood on the sheets – Gwen, are you hurt?”
Gwen blinked, glanced down, and groaned. “I shouldn’t have worn this nightdress. I knew it would be soon.”
Her husband stared at her, uncomprehending. “But are you hurt?”
“What? No – Arthur, has no one actually explained to you – ”
No one had.
That a man of twenty five – a king, at that – could be so unaware of the basic workings of a woman’s body seemed utterly ridiculous to Gwen, but then, she remembered Morgana’s panic the first time it had ever happened to her. She had come in to her chambers one morning to find the then young girl cowering in her wardrobe, convinced that she was dying. No one had explained to her either, since she had largely been raised by men who seemed to think an education in her own body was an unseemly thing to grant a girl. The nobility were a strange people.
“This happens… every month?” Arthur was incredulous. “Every month? Forever?”
Title: Kings and Queens
Warnings: Pendragons snuggling, Arthur snoring.
Summary: YAY snuggly pendragons!
Arthur had fallen asleep with his temple at her breast bone again. Gwen was smoothing his hair, deep in thought. She didn’t mind nursing Pendragons to sleep (she had, after all, been doing it for most of her life, one way or another), and she was comfortable enough, sitting up, holding her husband and gazing approvingly at the spoils of her marriage. There were many difficulties inherent to the path she had chosen when she had agreed to marry the man in her arms, but in these moments she was reminded of those early, heady passions that had made saying no so impossible. He was, usually, worth it. Although she drew the line at allowing him to drool onto her nightgown, however unconscious he was.
“You were snoring.”
He coughed, snuffled. “Kings don’t snore.”
“Then you must not be king anymore.”
“You’ll have to rule Camelot alone.”
“Poor you.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you still awake? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Queens don’t sleep. We’re like vampires.”
um. GUYS. Could you all stop chicken-littling about this thing for long enough to consider that in actual fact we have NO IDEA if what this journalist is upset about has anything to do with the potential Bradley/Angel photoshoot?
And that, if you check her twitter, it seems that actually this is about an interview she’s doing with Colin Morgan and a fan being rude about THAT and thus has NOTHING TO DO with fans being horrible about Angel? (Even though that is a legit thing that happened and is every shade of wrong in the rainbow, of course.)
Just… don’t blow this into something bigger than it is and don’t start pestering this journalist over something that has nothing to do with anything! That’s not going to make the fandom look any less crazy!
Today, Gwen and Morgana went on a field trip, and I applied to do a creative writing MA in Kent. It’s just been one of those days.
She doesn’t miss Morgana. Not really. That’s the sadness of it. She stopped after a while - and when she realised she had stopped she grew sad for that but the emotion was a misty, vague one and dissipated quickly. Now there is only a faint, puzzling disjoint when she thinks of her. The spoiled mistress, the well-meaning (if occasionally oblivious) friend, the genuinely warm hearted young woman who tied ribbons into Gwen’s hair - and the creature who now stalks shadows and nightmares somewhere beyond the walls of the castle. Gwen can only think of one or the other, as if they are two distinct entities (and in many ways, they are) and to focus too hard on the hinge between the two leaves her feeling faintly sick. Why does she still feel guilty?
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