For/prompted by alyssanm.

Set in season 1 or 2.

Morgana stomped into her room, huffing in a way most unladylike and taking a deep, rebellious pleasure from that action as she shut the door in a way most definitely unladylike, thank you very much Uther and your rules…

She brushed her dark ponytail behind her shoulder and tossed her head a little like a horse, stomping over to her bed.

Gwen turned around, looking sweet and subservient (as was her wont) in her lavender dress and hair braided with flowers, taking in the sight of her mistress in trousers and that flimsy chainmail with a sword in her hand. She was holding it as though she actually wanted to run someone through with it, her green eyes flashing.

Morgana tossed the weapon most irreverently onto the floor, letting it clatter and clang as she walked over to the bed, growling (in a very unladylike fashion). She sat down on the bed quickly, and the covers flumped up around her.

Gwen chewed her lips, looking around. "Morgana?" she said, as though she really wasn't quite sure.

Morgana growled again, for good measure, and looked at Gwen with a pout.

Whenever Guinevere was upset, she usually wilted like a flower in a way so sweet that most people were ready to fall on their swords out of guilt just looking at her. Morgana did not have that particular talent. Instead, whenever she was upset, she grew angry and contrary, and her eyes flashed. It was an expression of a warrior, but the problem was that people just didn't give warriors what they wanted; warriors had to fight for what they wanted, because something about that expression made everyone want to fight you. No one wanted to give you sympathy.

It was a stroke of luck that had given Guinevere to Morgana as a servant, then, because Guinevere did not need a special look to be made to sympathize. She was naturally tenderhearted, even towards Morgana at her worst.

"Morgana, is something wrong?"

"No," Morgana responded, surly. "Nothing is wrong. That's why I came storming in here and threw down my sword. Because absolutely nothing is wrong!"

"Oh," said Gwen, not in the least insulted, because she was Guinevere, and really, whoever said something mean to her and meant it? She came over and sat beside Morgana, right on the bed. "I thought perhaps that something had happened and you might want to talk about it."

"You were wrong."

"I apologize for my misjudgment." Gwen reached her hand out and touched Morgana's ponytail fondly. Morgana was not often so rude to her friend, but then, everyone deserved to have an off day every once in a while. Perhaps Morgana was just suffering from that which all women suffered from. The timing was about right, Gwen thought, if what they said about women who were around each other often was true…

Morgana looked back at the total lack of reproach on her maid's face. She'd really been hoping for some scolding. She'd been expecting it, getting ready for a fight. But Gwen ruined everything—Gwen and her ridiculously kind face and even temper and knack for avoiding conflict; it was most inconsiderate, actually. She had a lot of nerve being so good. Morgana wanted to be that good.

The seconds ticked by, and some of Morgana's mood slipped away as Gwen continued to run her hand down Morgana's hair thoughtfully.

"Arthur ordered me off the training field," she said at once.

"Did he?" asked Gwen mildly.

Morgana nodded miserably. "Like a small child, a little girl. He wouldn't let me practice because he was training the knights. He yelled at me. In front of everyone!"

There was silence again. "And?" Gwen prompted.

"And I went," Morgana said.

"Ah." Gwen stood and walked over to Morgana's vanity, picking up a brush and coming back to pull Morgana's hair down and begin to brush it soothingly.

"I was just so shocked! I can't believe I went! Everyone saw me, Gwen," Morgana moaned. "What must they think?"

"That you are a patient woman letting your irritable friend win this one because he's been under so much stress lately."

"But that's not true!"

"But they'll think it," Gwen said, and for the first time she looked a little devious. "Arthur will look like a bully. And they know you are not one to back down… They will think you were simply tired of him."

"You mean…" Morgana paused. "You mean they'll think I was in the right, and he was in the wrong?"

"My lady," Gwen said affirmatively.

Morgana nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose… That would work. Especially if I bring it up, if anyone asks, about how I was tired of him being a bully. Then, no one will think I was giving in because I was scared. They'll think I was picking my battles."

She looked back at Gwen.

"Is that what you do?" she asked accusingly. "Avoid fighting by making it look like you're just too mature?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "I, milady?"

That innocent tone was answer enough. Morgana laughed. "You are an angel, Gwen. I adore you. I don't know why you put up with me."

"You aren't difficult to put up with," Gwen insisted loyally, whimsically pulling a flower from her hair and putting it into Morgana's. "You are very pleasant!"

"Gwen," Morgana said, looking away. "I am a great many things, but I am certainly not pleasant."

"You are strong though," Gwen said, shaking her head. "And brave. I wish I could be like you."

Morgana turned around and stared with such incredulity that she honestly couldn't speak for several seconds. Gwen wanted to be like her? Her? Sweet, gentle Gwen who everyone wanted to be kind to, was jealous of Morgana's bull-by-the-horns personality? That was simply ridiculous. Morgana must have misheard. Why, Morgana was too cowardly to tell her own father-figure that she had nightmares of the future! No, she was not brave and strong. She was just contrary.

However, she would admit that she was beautiful, but that wasn't the question at hand, was it?

Gwen did not dwell on the subject. She reached for the back of the flimsy chainmail. "Here, milady," she said. "Let me get you out of this. We will dress you up and go down there and you will distract the knights until Arthur is sorry for what he did."

Morgana twitched when she was unlaced, though. "Don't!" she said, pulling away.

Gwen looked confused.

"Sorry," Morgana said. "Sorry. Go ahead." Gwen reached out again, but after several seconds, Morgana pulled away and bit her lip. "Sorry," she apologized. "It… tickles."

Gwen's mouth twitched, but she efficiently took off the rest of it without paying attention to Morgana. But the lady, overcome by ticklishness today, began to giggle, and Gwen's mouth twitched some more.

Finally the thing was off and discarded, and Morgana rounded on Gwen. "You tickled me on purpose!"

"Oh, no, milady," Gwen assured her primly. "I was just helping you—eep!" Gwen squawked and fell back, with perfectly good reason. For Morgana, who simply was unable to let an action pass without retaliation, had deliberately tickled her maidservant.

Gwen tried to scoot away, but Morgana was merciless and quick. She was on her knees, tickling her maidservant's stomach with relish as Gwen fell off the bed and rolled away, laughing without reservation in a way most un-Gwen-like (and now that she thought of it, a little unladylike).

"Morgana, stop!" Gwen gasped, her head back. "Please, stop!"

Morgana's lips were stretched wide into a grin now, and though Gwen's pleas sent a little wave of pity through her—she could not be weak. She had to be merciless.

Gwen couldn't breathe by the time she realized there was nothing for it. She had to fight back. When Morgana dived for her, after giving her a short break to make sure she did not pass out from lack of air, Gwen was ready. She stuck her hands out, and throwing caution to the wind, she tickled right back.

Gwen had a brother. She tickled with the best of them.

Morgana yelped and drew back before going in again, and Gwen was ready for her, and by this time they were both alternately on their knees and their backs. They were giggling so hard that their ribcages hurt, and all signs of sadness had disappeared from both faces.

Morgana lunged and wrapped her arms around her dark maidservant, both of them on their knees on the floor, hugging her tightly. "Thank you, Gwen," she said. Looking around, she saw that the room was now scattered with several flowers.

Gwen hugged her back. For a while, nothing was said, but Morgana did not care for silence overmuch, so she broke it:

"Gwen?"

"Milady?"

"Promise me that we'll always be friends?"

"Of course we will, Morgana," Gwen said, head on her mistress's shoulder. "I'll be here as long as you want me around."

"You might get awfully old, Gwen," Morgana laughed, and then there was silence again.

Gwen gathered up her courage enough to poke Morgana most unexpectedly in the ribs, driving her back and tickling enough that they were both sent into another round of bubbly, light-hearted giggles that just made them both feel like they were glowing. Still laughing, they nearly collasped on the floor... And yes, in a way which was decidedly most unladylike.

A/N: Now go brush your teeth; they need it after that. Thank you for reading! Morgana and Gwen's friendship is something I have ignored most rudely. Accept my peace offering, Merlin fans.