'Well we got into some of it, and some of it kind of... took us for the ride.' she tried very hard to ignore the fact that one of the last spots of "trouble" Morgana had been in that affected Gwen in a serious way was the one where Morgana had tried to free Guinevere's father, Tom, only to have him impaled by Arthurs men.
'I was twelve when she was... assigned to me. Gwen's about a year older, but she's at least ten years more sensible than I ever was. I met her when we were younger, when I was about so high' she gestured, a mere three feet off the ground. 'As Da would go to the blacksmiths and I would toddle along after him, begging for my very own real sword. I believe I was disappointed that the adult swords tipped me over and the wooden swords only left bruises.' that was about the age when Morgana was still objecting, violently, to dresses. More than one had been tossed off the top of the castle, some of them at her home where the castle walls were over a cliff, and off her expensive little dresses had gone into the sea.
'She was my favourite because she knew all about swords and armour and she smelt like lavender.' she probably still smelt like lavender, somewhere, wherever Camelot was. Because all of this was real at some point. Morgana wouldn't accept otherwise no matter how often the computer said "glitch".
'But we would run off and play together, and as we got older we ventured further out, borrowed real swords, sometimes we took food. Sometimes we tried learning how to swim. Stole some pants too...' Arthur didn't need all his trousers anyway. 'Gallop through the trees on my horse.'
While at first, she had been faking her light tone, the more she spoke about Gwen, the easier it became. The memories of her best friend were a balm despite the ache her absence caused. She remembered each moment like it was yesterday, the way Gwen had wrapped her arms tightly around Morgana the first time she had been pulled up on her horse, the sweet, thick scent of Gwens hair as a sparring match turned from swords to wrestling, with laughter echoing away from their clearing and into the far woods. The careful little stitches when Morgana had caught her arm on Gwen's sword and Gwen had stood there close to tears cleaning it and fixing it while Morgana just bit her lip and stroked Gwen's hair to tell her it was fine.
'We stopped mostly, it became too dangerous. I didn't want her to get hurt because the stupid noble lady wanted to be an amazon. It wasn't fair to her.' not with the ever growing rate of incidents from (justifiably) angry magic users, and even the possibility that Uther might take issue. 'I didn't want her put in the dungeons for disobeying the King with me, or worse.'
'Though we were kidnapped in the last year... and I almost lost her because she hurt her ankle and I couldn't carry her but she wouldn't let me stay either. Arthur and Uther wouldn't let me go back to help find her, despite fighting my way out of there in only my shift.' that? That she was still bitter about.
'She also knew about my dreams... she would stay in my room sometimes when I was frightened. Wake me up if I was screaming and hold me until I calmed down. God, if I had set her on fire or hurt her I would never forgive myself.' she squeezed Steves hands gently, as if to remind herself she was here and not at home, and even if her powers were back she hadn't actually exploded anything with them so far.
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'I was twelve when she was... assigned to me. Gwen's about a year older, but she's at least ten years more sensible than I ever was. I met her when we were younger, when I was about so high' she gestured, a mere three feet off the ground. 'As Da would go to the blacksmiths and I would toddle along after him, begging for my very own real sword. I believe I was disappointed that the adult swords tipped me over and the wooden swords only left bruises.' that was about the age when Morgana was still objecting, violently, to dresses. More than one had been tossed off the top of the castle, some of them at her home where the castle walls were over a cliff, and off her expensive little dresses had gone into the sea.
'She was my favourite because she knew all about swords and armour and she smelt like lavender.' she probably still smelt like lavender, somewhere, wherever Camelot was. Because all of this was real at some point. Morgana wouldn't accept otherwise no matter how often the computer said "glitch".
'But we would run off and play together, and as we got older we ventured further out, borrowed real swords, sometimes we took food. Sometimes we tried learning how to swim. Stole some pants too...' Arthur didn't need all his trousers anyway. 'Gallop through the trees on my horse.'
While at first, she had been faking her light tone, the more she spoke about Gwen, the easier it became. The memories of her best friend were a balm despite the ache her absence caused. She remembered each moment like it was yesterday, the way Gwen had wrapped her arms tightly around Morgana the first time she had been pulled up on her horse, the sweet, thick scent of Gwens hair as a sparring match turned from swords to wrestling, with laughter echoing away from their clearing and into the far woods. The careful little stitches when Morgana had caught her arm on Gwen's sword and Gwen had stood there close to tears cleaning it and fixing it while Morgana just bit her lip and stroked Gwen's hair to tell her it was fine.
'We stopped mostly, it became too dangerous. I didn't want her to get hurt because the stupid noble lady wanted to be an amazon. It wasn't fair to her.' not with the ever growing rate of incidents from (justifiably) angry magic users, and even the possibility that Uther might take issue. 'I didn't want her put in the dungeons for disobeying the King with me, or worse.'
'Though we were kidnapped in the last year... and I almost lost her because she hurt her ankle and I couldn't carry her but she wouldn't let me stay either. Arthur and Uther wouldn't let me go back to help find her, despite fighting my way out of there in only my shift.' that? That she was still bitter about.
'She also knew about my dreams... she would stay in my room sometimes when I was frightened. Wake me up if I was screaming and hold me until I calmed down. God, if I had set her on fire or hurt her I would never forgive myself.' she squeezed Steves hands gently, as if to remind herself she was here and not at home, and even if her powers were back she hadn't actually exploded anything with them so far.