Title: Sleep to
Fandom: The BBC's Merlin
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm just borrowing them.
Summary: When Morgana's dreams become reality, disaster follows.
His body was still, and his lips blue. His boyish face was calm, but it was not the soothing, innocent calm of sleep, but the darker, sinister kind of stillness that came over someone before death.
Merlin was going to die, and it was Morgana's fault.
Morgana turned her face away from Merlin's prone body, her eyes squeezing tightly against the tears stinging her eyes. She moved over to the back of the room by the window, and leaned against the wall, hiding her face.
Morgana clutched at her dress, her fingers crushing the fine material, squeezing until it hurt. She could hear Gwen talking softly to Merlin, urging him to wake up, while Gaius was moving restlessly around the room, rustling papers and banging this and that.
They were in pain. Gwen and Gaius were in pain, they were suffering, and Morgana knew that it was all her fault; her and her dreams.
When the dreams started, Morgana had been surprised – and a little alarmed – by the turn her thoughts had taken, but the dreams made her feel warm and fuzzy, and though she always felt guilty for it in the light of morning, she indulged herself in her dreams in the darkness of night.
The dreams always took place in her chambers, and it was always night. She would begin the dream as she was in reality, sleeping in her bed. But soon she would sense another presence in the room with her, and then she would feel hands on her, hands that would slowly but confidently begin to move over her body.
She was never scared by the touch in her dreams. In fact, there was always a feeling of relief, as if she had wanted the touch, as if she had been waiting for it for so very long. She always sighed, and relaxed, shamelessly offering her body to the hands caressing it, encouraging her dream lover to do as they would.
The hands would trail over her thighs, caressing anxiously, occasionally squeezing as if her lover were seconds away from grasping them firmly and forcing them apart. Morgana would try to resist, but inevitably her hips would rise, encouraging the touch and her lover's hands would drift, skimming up her sides, until their hands were cupping her breasts.
The lips would come into play then. As nimble fingers teased her nipples and massaged her breasts, warm, soft, wet lips would begin to trail over her collarbone, and neck and jaw. Plush, skillful lips would brush over her cheeks, and forehead, and eyelids, before finally covering her mouth.
Morgana was not one for pretense in her dreams, but when her lover's lips touched her own, an irresistible hunger would sweep over her, and her hands would finally begin to move. They would run over her lover's slim, toned thighs. They would squeeze and tug at a full, well-rounded bottom. Her fingers would dip into the sensuous curve of her lover's lower back, and then trail further up until she could tangle her fingers in thick, luxurious long hair and tug her lover more firmly against her.
It was when this touching, her touching, began that first time that Morgana consciously realized that her dream lover was a woman not a man. Her room was always dark in the dreams, and she could not make out the woman's features, but the feel of her body was unmistakably feminine. The realization had been a shock to Morgana that time, one that had sent her heart racing with fear, and made her blood rush lower until she was throbbing between her legs.
Slim, elegantly tapered fingers would then trail back down her body and begin to hike up her nightgown, tugging it unceremoniously, forcing Morgana to lift her hips until the fabric was bunched up at her waist, and her most secret and sacred place lay open and vulnerable.
Her lover's fingers would then begin to stroke her, moving slowly at first, gathering her wetness, and teasing more from her, before they began to focus on pleasuring the hard button at the apex of her thighs.
When this happened, Morgana couldn't contain herself. Her eyes would close, and her head would press back into her pillows, her lips parting as she emitted soft sighs, and gasps, and moans of pleasure. Her hips would lift of their own free volition, and she would become hot all over. Sweat would bead her skin, and her hands would roam over her lover's body, clutching at the woman desperately as her pleasure mounted. The Lord's name would fall from her lips again and again, and then bright swirling colours would explode behind her eyes, and her body would quake and shiver as pleasure tore through her, constant and relentless as a tide pounding the shore.
Soft lips would press against hers then, kissing her softly as her heart thundered and she tried to regain her senses. However, before she had time to reach out and trace her lover's feature, before she was able to regain her voice and speak to the woman who had just brought her such pleasure, she would feel her lover drifting away from her.
When Morgana was finally able to open her eyes again, she always found herself awake in the real world, alone in her bed with her hand between her damp, sticky thighs.
For over a month the dreams came to her, and Morgana found herself not only anticipating her lover's touch in her dreams but in her waking hours as well. She found herself eager to go to sleep to dream. Gwen had even wondered out loud at her keenness to retire in the evenings. However, when Gwen had unexpectedly returned to Morgana's chambers one night to retrieve a cloak she had forgotten, she found her mistress moaning and twisting in her bed as her hand moved frantically beneath the covers. She had immediately tried to flee the room before Morgana became aware of her presence. However, in her haste to leave she knocked over a vase, and in doing so had woken Morgana. There had been silence, for a moment and then Morgana had softly called out, "Gwen?" Gwen had replied, "Yes, milady. I forgot my cloak. I'm sorry to have disturbed your … rest." Morgana had murmured something that Gwen couldn't make out in response to that, but said no more and Gwen had quickly left the room – still without her cloak.
They were barely able to look at each other the next day, and Gwen had never again commented on her mistress's eagerness to go to bed.
There was a part of Morgana that was ashamed to have been caught touching herself; a part of her that was mortified and chagrined to have her closest friend in the world think of her as some sort of sex crazed harlot, but the thought of her dream lovers touch was too much for Morgana to resist and she continued to retire early, even though she knew that Gwen knew exactly what she was going to get up to.
So, when Morgana had first felt hands on her that night, she thought that she had been dreaming. Quickly, however she had noticed that things were different than they had been before. Her room wasn't nearly as dark, light was filtering in from the window in a way it never did in her dreams. Her lover's body felt heavier, more tangible as the woman straddled her waist, and the fingers touching her had a slight chill to them as if the person touching her had just come into the warmth of the castle from outside.
Morgana opened her eyes, and was finally able to make out a face. Shockingly intense blue eyes stared down at her. Full red lips were curved into a mischievous and teasing smile, and a mess of rich brown, partially braided hair framed an impossibly beautiful pale face.
"My God," Morgana had gasped. "You're really here."
The woman had smiled, and trailed her fingers up Morgana's torso until her hand was cupping Morgana's breast.
"I really am," she said softly.
And then she leaned down and kissed Morgana, and Morgana responded as she had in her dreams.
As Morgana lay sated and content, more at rest after having been pleasured by another's hand than she ever had been after peaking under her own ministrations, her lover had wrapped her arms around her and tugged Morgana's body against her, embracing her from behind as she tenderly held her hand and kissed her shoulders and back.
Morgana leaned back into the contact, enjoying the woman's warmth, and soon found her eyelids beginning to droop with sleep. Her breathing began to slow, and just as she was about to float away into unconsciousness, the woman holding her began to whisper strange words that Morgana could not understand, and then could not concentrate on as sleep finally claimed her.
When Morgana awoke, alone, in the early hours of the morning, her real world became like a dream. She found herself rising from bed, fixing her hair, dressing, and leaving her chambers with no ability to stop herself. She found herself walking down corridors that were so familiar to her without knowing where she was going. She found herself entering Gaius's office and making her way ever so quietly to the room where Merlin slept. She found herself standing over his bed, watching him sleep, and wondered what she was doing there, and why she couldn't turn around. And, when her hand reached into the small pocket in the belt tied around her waist, she wondered what the tiny, shriveled object she held in her hand was and what she was going to do with it.
As she watched him, Merlin began to shift and finally opened his eyes, an expression of surprise and mystification coming over him as her recognized her.
Morgana felt herself smiling though she didn't know why she would, and when Merlin's lips parted to speak, Morgana's hand twitched, and the small object that rested in her hand was flicked into Merlin's mouth. Her body then moved quickly, covering Merlin's mouth with one hand while she pinched his nose shut with the other until he swallowed.
A wave of dizziness came over her at that point and Merlin's room began to swirl around her. Morgana managed to utter, "Wha-?" however, before she could even finish the word, everything around her went dark.
When she awoke, she found Gwen sitting on a stool beside the cot she was stretched out on, and Gaius was across the room, leaning over Merlin's still body, his eyes darting back and forth between the book on his lap and Merlin's body.
"What happened?" Morgana asked. Her throat was dry and her voice was rough.
Gwen stood and moved to side, returning a few seconds later with a cup of water.
"Nimueh," Gwen said as she settled herself back on the stool.
"Nimu…" Morgana rotely began to repeat before the name registered with her.
She had overheard Uther saying the name before. It was the name of the powerful sorceress who had killed over fifty people in Camelot two months before, and who had tried to kill both Merlin and Arthur not to long after that.
"No," Morgana said, shaking her head from side to side as her mind began to make connections she didn't want it to make.
Arthur had said the woman he encountered in the woods had been uncommonly beautiful, with auburn hair and sapphire eyes. The woman who had made love to her the night before had also …
"No," Morgana repeated again.
Gwen took her hand gently, and raised it, turning the back towards Morgana so that she could see the symbol drawn on the back of it in blood red hematite.
"It is the symbol of Nimueh," Gaius said joining the women.
His voice surprised Morgana and she automatically turned to face him.
"Your actions were not your own," he continued in a soft voice, no doubt seeing the panic and horror in Morgana's own blue orbs. "She used the very darkest of magic to control you," he went on, his voice trailing off a little at the end as he shook his head in confusion.
"What is it?" Morgana asked, her voice catching though this time it had nothing to do with a dry throat.
"It's nothing … nothing," Gaius said waving his hand dismissively though he still looked perturbed. "It's only that … I simply cannot figure out how she managed to do it. A spell of this sort requires prolonged personal contact," he went on shaking his head again. "Time must be spent earning the trust of the Puppet," Gaius paused there, the possible callousness in his choice of words registering with him, but Morgana waved him on. "To control someone in this way, you must know the very heart of them. And you and Nimueh have never met," he finished sounding frustrated and befuddled.
"No," Morgana said softly, turning her face away from Gaius and Gwen. "We have never been introduced."
Morgana turned away from the window and looked out into the room once more. Gaius had moved over to join Gwen by Merlin's side. And, as Gaius mixed something in a bowl in his lap, Morgana could see that Merlin's body was still prone, and his lips still blue.
Gaius eyes were serious, his expression somber and Gwen was on the verge of tears … again.
Morgana turned back to the window, unable to face them.
She had let Nimueh in. She had let the witch into her head and into her bed, and she couldn't even say that she had put up some kind of resistance. She hadn't simply let Nimueh in, she had longed for it.
Morgan closed her eyes, and felt tears begin to wet her cheeks.
Merlin was going to die, and Morgana knew that it was all her fault.