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Morgana intercepts Gwen near the borders of Mercia. It’s easy enough to dispatch the guards with a surge of magic, until all that’s left is Gwen, eyes wide with horror as Morgana pulls back the hood of her cloak.
“Hello, Gwen,” Morgana purrs. “What brings the future Queen of Camelot to my corner of the woods?”
“Morgana.” Gwen regards her coolly, even as Morgana can see her hands clench the reins of her horse to stop their trembling. “What do you want?”
Morgana laughs, edging closer even as Gwen’s mount rears away skittishly. “Such hostility, Guinevere. Is that any way to treat an old friend?” Morgana tilts her head, looking up at the other woman through her lashes. “Or an old lover?”
Gwen looks away. “That was a long time ago.”
“Hm, yes,” Morgana sniffs. “I suppose betrayal is easier to move past when you’re the one doing the betraying.” She’s circling the horse now, close enough that she could run a hand along its flank if she chose to, and the animal is snorting, flicking its tail and ears in agitation as if it can sense the power burning under Morgana’s skin. “I wonder if Arthur will be quicker to forgive you than I am?”
Understanding dawns on Gwen’s face, slow and ugly. “You did this,” she whispers, voice shaking. “What did you do to me?!”
“Why don’t you come down from there, Guinevere?” Morgana is at Gwen’s side now, holding a hand out to help her off her horse like a gallant knight. “Come now, there’s no reason to be frightened. Old friends, remember?”
Gwen knocks her hands away, dismounting from her horse unaided. They’re so close now, Gwen’s heaving breaths gust warm over Morgana’s cheek. “What did you do to me?” she demands again.
“It was easy, really,” Morgana confides, whispering like she’s imparting a secret. “How quickly old passions can reignite with a simple spell.”
“You enchanted me?”
Morgana can see when Gwen pieces it together, her eyes bright with understanding and rage. “The bracelet.”
“Very astute, Gwen.” Morgana raises a brow at her. “Then again, you always were quite… cunning.”
“Why?” Gwen asks. “Why are you doing this, Morgana?”
Morgana sneers. “As if you don’t know.”
“Does the throne really mean that much to you? That you would do this to me? To Arthur?”
“I don’t give a damn about the throne,” Morgana hisses. “Camelot can burn, and Arthur with it.”
“Then why?!”
Morgana smiles sweetly at her. “So everyone can see you as you truly are, dear Gwen,” she says, a hand coming up to cup Gwen’s cheek. “Unfaithful.”
“I have always been faithful to Arthur,” Gwen says, fire in her eyes even as her hand covers Morgana’s--some muscle memory from years past that never went away.
“Yes, you certainly have been devoted to Arthur.” Morgana’s smile turns icy. “If only you had shown that much loyalty to me.”
“Did you expect me to follow you when you turned against the people of Camelot?” Gwen asks, incredulous. “When you laid siege to our home, Morgana?”
“Camelot is not my home.” Morgana pulls her hand free, taking a step back. “And you know your betrayal happened much sooner than that.”
Gwen closes her eyes, looking weary. “Morgana, please.”
“Were you being faithful to me, when you snuck behind my back to let Arthur court you? Kiss you?”
“That is not--”
“Or Lancelot?” Morgana sneers. “Were you ever planning to tell me we were through? Or were you content returning to my bed each night once you were satisfied with your conquests?”
“When did you expect me to tell you anything?!” Gwen cried. “You shut me out, you barely spoke to me. Most of the time I didn’t even know where you were--always sneaking off with no explanation. There was no us anymore, Morgana. You made sure of it.”
“So you chose to pursue my brother?”
“He pursued me.” Gwen looked at the ground. “He wanted me, which is more than I can say for you.”
“And did you want him?” A cold laugh. “Do you love him, Gwen? Like you said you loved me?”
Gwen looks up, her eyes sad and furious in equal measures. “I will never love anyone the way I loved you. I can’t.”
“And does Arthur know? That you don’t love him?” Morgana laughs. “Although I’m sure if he didn’t, he’s figured it out now.”
“I do love Arthur!” Gwen says. “He’s a good man and a good king. Kind. Compassionate. Many of the things you used to be.”
“Then let’s hope for his sake that he handles your deceptions better than I. But I’ll let you in on a little secret, Guinevere,” Morgana moves close again, her breath hot and warm against the shell of Gwen’s ear, making her shiver. “You are the one who is second in Arthur’s heart. While he rages over your betrayal, he won’t seek the vengeance I have sought. Because he already loves another, more than he could ever love you.”
Gwen pushes her away. “You’re lying. Arthur is loyal.”
“Yes, he is. So he would have never betrayed you. He would have tried to find contentment in taking you to his bed each night while he longs for another. Someone he feels he cannot have.”
Gwen shakes her head, more refusals on the tip of her tongue, but she can summon up the thoughts all too easily. Of Merlin. Of the far off looks that Arthur gives him sometimes when he thinks no one is watching. Of how Arthur clings to him, leans on him in a way that he never has with her.
“Ah, I can tell you’ve worked it out,” Morgana says, voice coy. “Did I remind you of another dark-haired servant, maybe? Say what you will about Arthur, but he certainly has a type.”
“Even if what you’re saying is true, it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because even after all of this, you haven't won anything. You are still alone, and you always will be.”
Morgana raises one brow, as if momentarily surprised that Gwen is capable of such acidity. This time, her smile is genuine. “Then it seems we finally have something in common, Guinevere.”
With that, Morgana is swallowed by the mist as abruptly as she appeared, leaving behind nothing but the echo of her pleased laughter ringing in the clearing.