#I'm sorry to torture gwen like this. she gets to have morally dubious lesbian sex about it if it's any consolation

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

for ask game: i didn’t know you were keeping count

ok so I came up with that title on the spot for that post and I don't really like it but anyway. this fic is a rewrite of The Dark Tower where Morgana uses those visions of Arthur and Merlin to manipulate Gwen into believing that Arthur never loved her and is having an affair with Merlin. So that she will come running into Morgana's arms, of course.

What I had written of this WIP was basically just dialogue and lacked mood, so I've hastily added some more description to this excerpt:

“Gwen, it’s me.” It’s Arthur’s voice. At least, it sounds like his voice. Gwen knows better, “no. It’s not you.” “Look at me, I’m here.” Gwen knows he’s not real. She knows. But she is so tired of fighting, running, screaming. She reluctantly looks up. Arthur’s face. Illuminated by a non-existent light source, as though he is light itself. “Did you miss me?” “Of course,” she responds. “How long have you been here? Two, three days?” the figure paces around her. “Have you thought about me at all?” “You know I have,” she says. Arthur laughs, “I know you haven’t.” Gwen doesn’t know how to respond because deep down, he’s right. Arthur, Merlin, Elyan, Camelot – it is all only a distant glimmer. A beacon of hope, but indistinct. Mostly, she has thought of Morgana, the one person she had spent so long trying to forget. “Why should I rescue you?” Arthur crouches before her, interrogating, “it seems we’re better off without each other.” Gwen looks at him hopelessly. “Good riddance,” he sneers. Gwen shakes her head, blinking away the tears. “You’re not real,” she asserts. “I never should have married you,” Arthur shoots upright and turns away, his cape whips her cheek. “I should have let you run off with Lancelot like the common whore that you are!” “Arthur would never say that.” Gwen clings to reality like fingernails on a cliff edge. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You never loved me, you only went along with it because it was too good an opportunity to pass up,” he accuses. “All that money, all that power, how could you resist?” It’s an accusation that Gwen has often directed at herself. Lancelot was better for her, wasn’t he? She loved him, he loved her, they could have been so happy. It was selfish of her to want more. What was she thinking, pursuing the king, the foolish peasant girl that she is. But she does love Arthur. She loves him. “I love you!” she pleads. It’s the only defence she has. “Don’t lie to me, Gwen. I can’t hold it against you. After all, I never loved you either,” his voice is cold, indifferent. “That’s not true.” It can’t be, not after everything they went through to be together. “I only married you because I knew that I needed a queen to bear my heirs, not that you’ve been very useful for that,” Arthur kicks her empty stomach, winding her. “I chose you as my bride because you were the closest to what I really wanted, to who I really wanted,” he smirks. Gwen’s head burns with molten shame, steaming against the chill of the tower. Like a newly smelted sword submerged in cold water, the blade rusting as soon as it’s forged. Another figure emerges from the shadow. “Oh Gwen, did you really think that I encouraged you to be with Arthur out of the goodness of my heart?” Merlin mocks her, as he saunters towards Arthur. “Surely you know how I feel about him.” She did know, of course. It had been clear since they were two lowly servants, two friends, debating the merits of Arthur versus Lancelot. But any fears about Merlin resenting her relationship with Arthur had been quickly dismissed. Gwen truly thought he was a selfless, supportive friend. Idiot. “I wasn’t going to set aside my own desires so easily. Don’t be so naïve,” Merlin laughs, as Arthur wraps around his back. He kisses Merlin’s neck the same way he did hers. “Now I’ve got my king right where I want him,” Merlin taunts, “and gods, how I want him.” He smiles salaciously at Arthur, before sealing their lips in a kiss. “No!” Gwen wants to scream, wants to tear them apart. Instead, she crumples to the ground. Hands over her eyes. She only wishes the obscene wet noises could be drowned out by her sobs.