fembuck | Fic: Queen of Britannia (Morgan/Sybil, Camelot)

Title: Queen of Britannia
Author: Janine
Fandom: Camelot
Pairing: Morgan/Sybil
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.
Summary: Sybil’s presence calls to Morgan, and like a moth drawn to a flame, Morgan is unable to resist her.

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If Sybil was surprised when she awoke in the night to find Morgan standing by the side of her bed she gave no indication of it, which irritated Morgan. Morgan had not entered Sybil’s chambers with the intention of alarming her or causing her distress, but she had expected some reaction to her presence. However, when Sybil’s eyes had found her in the darkness, she had smiled warmly and lifted the sheet covering her, inviting Morgan to join her in bed as if she had simply been resting her eyes for the hours since she had retired, waiting for Morgan to come to bed. Morgan had spent agonizing over whether or not to give into the weakness within her and seek out the comfort of Sybil’s arms. She had not slept a wink since the castle had gone silent and so it frustrated her that Sybil seemed to know what she would do before she herself did.

Morgan stood silent and morose by the side of the bed for a moment, glaring at Sybil in the darkness, hating the woman for making her need her and contemplating the idea of stalking out of the room to punish Sybil for her insolence, but her desire for comfort won out – as it always did.

“My darling girl,” Sybil sighed as Morgan slipped onto the bed and pressed herself against her. “Come,” she continued wrapping her arms around Morgan, directing the girls head towards her bosom. “Come to me,” she whispered as Morgan wrapped her arms tightly around her and pressed her face between Sybil’s breasts.

Morgan’s eyes closed as the warmth of Sybil’s body enveloped her, and a soft sigh escaped from her lips as she felt her body begin to unclench and her mind begin to settle.

Her brain wheeled all the time. Her thoughts plagued her. She was under constant attack from her emotions. There was no rest for her. Even her sleep – when she slept – was not a peaceful. Her mind worked and worked and she awoke more exhausted than when she had fallen asleep. She was tired, all of the time she was tired, but she could not slow down. The crown was everything and she could not stop until it was hers. When her vision blurred and her step faltered from exhaustion, she forced herself to straighten and told herself that she could sleep when she was Queen.

However, in moments of weakness Morgan had despaired at the thought of how long she would have to wait to rest again and wondered if she could survive it. But then, as she lay bloodied in bed, Sybil had opened her arms to Morgan. She had cradled Morgan to her chest, and as Sybil’s fingers combed gently through her hair Morgan’s eyes had closed. As Sybil’s heart beat steadily beneath her ear, Morgan’s mind calmed, her body relaxed and she drifted off into a deep sleep. When she awoke the moon had replaced the sun in the sky, but Sybil was still beneath her, still stroking her hair, and Morgan felt so wonderfully rested and content that tears had fallen from her eyes.

“I don’t need you,” Morgan hissed grumpily though her words somewhat obscured by Sybil’s chest as she kept her face pressed against the older woman as she spoke. “I can manage on my own.”

“I know, child,” Sybil murmured, smiling up at the canopy of her bed as Morgan clung to her. “I know you are capable, but that which can be accomplished on one’s own can often be improved upon and quickened with help. You have done well, and I thank you for the hospitality and protection you have offered. I simply wish to repay your kindness, to help, to be of use to you.”

“You should thank me,” Morgan muttered, but she snuggled closer to Sybil as she spoke and when she continued her voice was tenderer than it had been since she had entered the room. “I came to check on you because you are old and your recovery is slow. You have been of some use to me and after the pains you have undertaken I would hate for you to pass before you see the realm kneel at my feet.”

“I am old,” Sybil agreed easily used to Morgan after all of the years they had spent together, “but I promise you child, it will take more than a few knocks from a drunken mercenary to end me. I shall see you crowned, and gladly kneel before you on that glorious day.”

Morgan lifted her head from Sybil’s chest so that she could see Sybil’s face.

“You would not,” Morgan scoffed though her lips curved up slightly at the corners indicating how much the thought of Sybil kneeling before her pleased her.

“I would,” Sybil stated, reaching out to stroke Morgan’s cheek gently with her back of her fingers. “You will have earned it.”

Morgan frowned slightly at that though she did not move away from Sybil’s softly stroking fingers.

“I am Uther’s legitimate heir. The throne is rightfully mine. You should kneel before me now,” she declared petulantly and Sybil had to control the urge to smile as she ran her finger over Morgan’s dark brow.

There was such power and such passion inside of Morgan, but she was still so young – and truth be told, spoiled. But she could be a great woman one day, and if she allowed Sybil to help her she would be.

The potential in Morgan had been obvious to Sybil the day they had met. Fire had burned in Morgan’s eyes as she boldly and defiantly glared at Sybil her first day in the monastery, and Sybil had known immediately that of all of the girls under her charge Morgan Pendragon was the one to watch.

The child was not easily taught however, though she had a quick, clever mind. Morgan was stubborn, arrogant and wilful. The others sisters found her impossibly difficult and as the years passed they left Morgan for Sybil to handle, which suited Sybil just fine.

Sybil recognized that Morgan’s fierce spirit was something to be admired not disdained. Morgan had big dreams and she needed a big personality to achieve them. The small minds that surrounded them didn’t understand that, they didn’t understand Morgan. But Sybil listened when Morgan ranted and raved, and she saw the potential for change in Morgan’s dream. Change, not just for Morgan, but for all women in the realm. With Morgan’s bloodline and her abilities, the girl could change the world.

Change did not come easily, however. Morgan would need to fight. She would need the fire that raged inside of her. She would have to scorch the earth in order to reshape it, and once that was done, with her support and guidance Sybil knew that Morgan would be able to build something new and beautiful out of the ashes.

“But I will not kneel before you now, nor will the people beyond these city walls,” Sybil said, her voice gentle despite the bluntness of her words. “You must earn the people’s respect. You must win their hearts, feed them, shelter them, clothe them, be friend to them, provide for them and then they will obey you. You must train them, Morgan. When you strike, strike with purpose; show them how much they need you. Men are no different from animals. They need a strong hand a guide them. Prove yourself a strong, capable Mistress and like well-trained spaniels they will heel and sit at your command.”

Morgan gazed up at Sybil as she spoke, captivated by the older woman despite herself. Sybil had always had such power over her. Even as a child Morgan had been able to force people to bend to her will with the force of her personality alone, but never Sybil. When Morgan had advanced threateningly on her, Sybil had held her ground. When Morgan’s temper exploded, when she yelled and hurled objects across the room, Sybil never flinched. Sybil was never cowed, she never wavered; she was always in control. Sybil was strong, she was resolute and sturdy and those qualities appealed to Morgan, they made Morgan instinctively gravitate towards her.

As Morgan’s will often made people bend to her and Sybil’s will made Morgan bend.

That power Sybil held over her irritated Morgan as a child and bothered her even more as an adult. When Uther had murdered her mother so that he could install his new slut in her place, Morgan lost both of her parents, her home and her innocence. The loss of her near perfect childhood broke something inside of her, and on the journey to the monastery Uther had been exiled her to, she had made the decision to remove herself emotionally from the world.

Wrapped in fur as she was jostled from side to side on the back of her horse, riding farther and farther from the only home she had ever known, Morgan decided that she would not need anyone again. She decided that she would never again depend on anyone, that she would never again leave herself weak and vulnerable by loving anyone besides herself.

Once she arrived at the monastery her anger and immense sense of betrayal made it easy for her to hold most people at arm’s length, but Sybil would not allow herself to be pushed away or ignored. When Morgan acted out, Sybil met her anger with kindness. Sybil answered her aggression with gentleness. When Morgan hissed and venom dripped from her lips, Sybil held her eyes and approached with caution until she could take Morgan into her arms, soothing away her distress.

Despite her best efforts, Morgan came to need Sybil, she came to depend on her, and though she would never say it out loud, she had come to love her.

“Do you promise?” Morgan asked quietly, revealing her soft underbelly as she gazed up at Sybil, hating herself for it but needing the older woman’s reassurance anyway.

“Yes, child,” Sybil whispered fiercely. “I promise. You will never be forgotten. In times to come your name will inspire awe in all those who hear it.”

Morgan liked the sound of that and smiled as she looked up a Sybil, her smile growing even larger when Sybil smiled back at her.

They held each other’s eyes for a moment, and then Morgan surged up, bracing her left hand on the mattress so that her face hovered above Sybil’s. The movement was sudden and a lesser person may have reacted in alarm, but Sybil was not a lesser person.

Sybil was strong.

She was wise and ruthless.

She was the only person Morgan knew who was capable of being her partner in greatness.

With her free hand Morgan reached for Sybil’s cheek and stroked her fingers across the porcelain softness before moving on to stroke along Sybil’s brow, down nose, and along the curve of her jaw before she finally traced her thumb across the seam of Sybil’s lips.

Morgan had always liked Sybil’s face, though that too was something she would never say. She had spent a lot of time looking at Sybil in the past, and as she gazed down at the other woman, still captivated after fifteen years, she knew that she would never grow tired of the sight.

“Child?” Sybil questioned as Morgan continued to stare down at her, caressing her face without speaking.

“I’m no child,” Morgan declared, her eyes flashing fiercely as she held Sybil’s eyes.

“No,” Sybil agreed softly.

A shiver ran through her as Morgan’s eyes held her captive and she found that she needed to consciously fight the urge to shift beneath Morgan as she became increasingly aware of how entirely the weight of Morgan’s body on top of her had her pinned to the bed.

“I’m a woman,” Morgan stated challengingly, as if daring Sybil to disagree with her.

“Very much so,” Sybil replied, unable to deny the statement with Morgan’s full breasts pressing against her own and her hand resting on Morgan’s perfectly curved hip.

Morgan was much younger than her – that could not be argued against – but she was not a child and had not been for some years.

“You said you wished to be of use to me,” Morgan breathed out, not looking away from Sybil, not even blinking. “I would have you ... by my side.”

“Always,” Sybil promised.

She had decided to align herself with Morgan a long time ago. She had thought that she would fill a certain role for Morgan, but she supposed that all things changed with time. When Morgan was a child she had needed a maternal figure, someone to nurture her and care for her, and certainly Morgan was not yet beyond needing someone to look after her. But, as Morgan presently insisted, she was now a woman and if Morgan desired it, Sybil could adjust to meet her adult needs as well.

“You are mine,” Morgan declared holding Sybil’s face in her hand so that Sybil could not look away from her.

“Entirely,” Sybil agreed meeting Morgan’s eyes steadily.

“Good,” Morgan breathed out. “Very good,” and with that she leaned down and pressed her lips to Sybil’s, surprising even herself with the passion with which she claimed her prize.

Next to the throne there was a second chair, smaller but still esteemed. Morgan had thought to have the second seat removed, but she was glad now that other matters had preoccupied her enough that she had not had time to give the order to remove it.

The sheets rustled as Morgan drew her thigh along Sybil’s before drawing it over her waist so that she was straddling the other woman, and once settled she leaned down to capture Sybil’s lips once more as her hand to the woman’s breast and took position of the heavy mound, squeezing it possessively.

Morgan would make Sybil her partner in every way. When she was crowned, Sybil would take her rightful place by Morgan’s side. The kingdom would finally have two worthy leaders in the seats of power, and a golden era would emerge under the new Queen of Britannia ensuring that the memory of Uther Pendragon and the legend of his bastard Arthur would be lost in the sands of time, while the name Morgan Pendragon lived forever.

The End

Fic: Queen of Britannia (Morgan/Sybil, Camelot)

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