I'm back :D holy god, I love this season. And sometimes hate it. And if they don't find a way to bring Gwen back from evilness I don't think I'll ever forgive Arthur or Merlin. Seriously, though...wow. Last night's ep was amazing. And I'm going to keep making dreams! Got an idea stirring for the next one, and I'm sure more will come as the new episodes keep coming. Thanks to everyone who's actually still reading this.

Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.

Setting: Sometime after Gwen sets Sefa's execution, she tries to find her old friend. (and yes, I'm back for another round of these two, I can't stop writing them)

Guinevere and Morgana

Every time her sleeping mind called out, Guinevere found herself entering the dream in a different place. This time, it was an open road, wet and dark from low hanging clouds that were either about to rain or already had. She was dressed in her dark red gown, embroidered with Pendragon gold. What she was wearing changed with every dream as well.

"I know you're here this time," the queen spoke aloud. She hadn't shouted, but the gray air reverberated around her words as though she had.

"Careful, Gwen," drawled a voice behind her. It was a voice she knew so well, a voice that could sprinkle like ash or curl like smoke. Guinevere whirled around to face it without a second thought. "With instincts like that, they'll start to suspect you're no different than me," Morgana continued from beneath her hood. Guinevere narrowed her eyes—all could see of the face was that slight smirk.

"You haven't come here for more than two years," the queen said slowly, realizing she'd already unclenched her fists. "I recognize the difference by now."

That smirk faded, and Guinevere didn't miss the way Morgana's jaw twisted. "You kept coming here—calling for me the whole time?" the smoke of her voice was clouded now.

"Of course I did," Guinevere frowned, trying to keep herself from snapping at the woman in front of her. "You know I did."

She couldn't have been sure, but she might have heard a sharp inhale from the witch, but when Morgana spoke next, her voice was liquid. "I apologize for your inconvenience. I was…unfortunately detained."

Now Guinevere was trying not to snort. "Detained for two years. I see." The cloaked figure made no response. "Put up your hood, Morgana, for heaven's sake," she lifted her chin to combat the very un-regally stubborn growl that kept threatening to edge her words.

A laugh burst from behind the shroud. A chill shot through Gwen—it was still Morgana's laugh, but it echoed differently, as though it were bone-dry. "As your highness commands," she answered, sweeping back the hood with a gloved hand.

Guinevere's mouth parted at the sight. Morgana looked, if possible, paler than ever before. Her every feature stood out even more sharply, striking, a horrible kind of gorgeous. As she stared, Guinevere also felt Morgana's own eyes surveying her for the first time past the hindrance of the hood. "My, what a queen you've turned out to be," she said quietly. Her eyes hadn't changed. Still peridot and perfect, unable to hide a thing.

Guinevere's skin crawled as she tried not to feel suddenly wrong in her heavy velvet gown, the kind she'd dressed Morgana in for so long. "You know whom I learned from," the comment came out easily. "Now where were you? Really."

"Locked away," Morgana said shortly.

"Somewhere you couldn't even dream?" Guinevere lifted her brows. "I find that hard to believe."

"You might have higher parapet to view the world from now, but that doesn't mean you know it any better," Morgana's eyes flashed before shifting away. "Certain depths can only be seen from the dirt ground. Yes, your majesty, there are places locked away from dreaming," she barked out a sudden harsh laugh that shivered through Gwen's spine. "Gaius should have shoved me away there when I was a child, it would've stabilized the nightmares better than his bloody sleeping draughts," those green eyes shot back to Guinevere, who straightened her neck under the up and down scrutiny, "—but look at you, stronger than ever…clearly, dear Gwen, you've done just fine without me."

"And clearly you haven't," Guinevere returned, staring at the woman in front of her. "It changed you."

"Yes, imprisonment will do that."

"I'm aware. Tell me you haven't exactly forgotten how I learned."

Morgana winced, though it was barely visible. If Gwen hadn't been watching closely, she wouldn't have caught it at all. "You were quite fortunate," Morgana's voiced almost seemed to slither, "—you always had someone there, close by, ready to set you free at any moment," at that, her legs seemed to buckle, and she collapsed to sit on the fallen dead tree next to their desolate road. "I was not so lucky," she continued, burning eyes fixed on the ground. "Not even you would have come for me if you knew where I was."

The queen gazed unblinkingly at Morgana beneath her, crouched over her knees, looking spent and bitter, her black cloak turned gray by the veil of fog. It amazed Guinevere that, even after all Morgana had done, the witch could still make her feel guilty as a clumsy maidservant, one who had just spilled bath oil all over her lady's best dress. "Morgana…"

"Stop feeling sorry for me," Morgana lashed back. "Don't pretend you don't want to keep my throne, Guinevere. The crown along with everything that goes with it…power, a gorgeous palace, fine gowns, pretty serving girls to tie you in them…"

Guinevere's fist clenched automatically at that. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Morgana tilted her head up to meet Gwen's eyes again. "Little Sefa was lovely, wasn't she?" For a moment, Morgana almost looked lighter, almost happy. There was a twinkle in her eye and Guinevere felt sick.

"Did you enjoy imagining what that would do to me?" her voice shook.

Morgana's smile slipped off her mouth. "I didn't have to imagine my maidservant betraying me. That's an ugly road we've already walked down."

"And you," Guinevere seethed—she couldn't remember feeling so angry in her life, not since she swung that sword, "…made me walk it again alone. You made me relive it all over, all our ugly history, everything you did to me, that I did to you, why did you send a serving girl? One who'd work for me?"

Morgana twitched her gaze away from her. "Ruadan was her father. She wanted to help him, and she didn't have a mark on her record. She was perfect, exactly who we needed to keep an eye on you and Arthur. I didn't plan it."

"Her father," a shrill, derisive laugh Guinevere almost didn't recognize as her own escaped her throat. "Could the symmetry be more complete? Think of everything you and I went through on account of our fathers!"

For a moment, Morgana said nothing, staring out at the still mist. "I take it you set Sefa's execution yourself," she eventually said.

The girl's young pretty face and terrified eyes passed through Guinevere's mind and all her fury dropped in an instant. "I did," she said tonelessly.

Morgana nodded, still looking off in the distance. "Would you have followed through with it?" she asked. "If Ruadan hadn't helped her escape?"

Guinevere didn't even hold back a scoff. "I only publicized Sefa's execution to lure him in and trap him, but I think I could have watched her die without blinking. Hated myself afterwards, yes, but I would have gone through with it. You taught me how."

Morgana's eyes shot back to hers and they widened as if she'd been stung. "Gwen—"

"No," Guinevere growled, her heart racing again. "Don't you dare, Morgana. Do you know what I saw when I looked at her? She was on her knees in front of me, I sentenced her, and all I could see was you. Then me. And if she'd burned, I have no idea who it would have been on that pyre, whose screams I'd have heard. So don't. You can't apologize for that."

Morgana blinked too fast and finally nodded shakily.

"Besides," Guinevere continued, feeling that strange laugh pushing through her lips again, "—I knew Ruadan would come for her, as my father would have come for me when my mistress almost got me executed. As Uther would have come for his daughter, come for you."

At that, Morgana hissed as though she'd been bitten, snarled and leapt to her feet. "How dare you—"

"—Remind you Uther loved you? Remind you you're just like the man who killed my father? Why not?" Guinevere demanded, eyes too wide and losing their focus. "It's true and you know it! Nothing has changed, even with everything we've lost, don't you realize that? We haven't moved an inch, Morgana…we're doomed to it. We'll never leave this place, wherever this place even is." she gestured wildly around at the ever-changing dream, at the gray and stretched road.

"You promised me," Morgana bounded towards Guinevere who steeled herself to meet her burning eyes, she was only inches away now, "—that things could be simple here." Her voice a barbed hush, but from the way Guinevere felt herself trembling, Morgana might as well have screamed.

She was too close. Guinevere swallowed, wiped her face blank, and took one step back. "This is simple," she said flatly, eyes drifting away. "At least in here we can't lie."

Out the corner of her vision, she saw the witch go completely still for a moment. "God, I've missed you," Morgana whispered darkly. Guinevere turned and stared, shocked to find Morgana looking entirely serious. She realized the witch was almost frail, like a thin rose petal still wrapped in thorns. "I've missed having you on my side…" her green eyes could still pierce like daggers, though her face was stricken and desperate as though she'd been thirsty for a decade. They locked the queen in place, she couldn't look away,"—having you at my side," Morgana breathed as she stepped forward and lifted a hand to Guinevere's face.

The touch, so smooth even though ice cold, halted every word that sprang to Guinevere's mouth just as the sky seemed to thicken. The pale mist shifted and darkened to soft black rain around them and Morgana did not move her hand.

"Time to wake up," she said quietly, something like life back in her eyes.

Guinevere couldn't respond for a moment. "I started to remember these dreams less and less every time before you left," she finally said, rain sliding off her lips.

Morgana blinked and water sprinkled from her lashes. "Good," she said. "You shouldn't need to remember me like this." Her hand dropped from Guinevere's cheek and the black split open into golden morning.

Guinevere squinted at the light, groaning and pulling the sheets back over her head. She felt wonderfully warm, though slightly reluctant, as if she'd been ready to sleep for a year.

"Well, this is curious," a familiar, fond voice spoke from over her head.

Guinevere smiled and burrowed deeper into her pillow. "What's curious?" she grumbled.

The voice laughed. "You've been married to me three years, and in all that time, I don't ever recall a day when I was awake and out of bed before you," she felt the sheets being tugged off from her head, but she kept her eyes shut tight.

"Then I'm entitled to an extra few hours," she grumbled. A light kiss was pressed to her cheek, and that's when Guinevere's eyes shot open.

Arthur, her golden husband, was standing over her, now frowning with concern. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Guinevere sat up slowly, touching the cheek he'd kissed. It felt cold, and for a moment she almost wanted to claw at it, scrape her own skin. "No," she said eventually. "Nothing." She blinked twice. "Is there a council meeting today?"

Arthur shook his head. "I don't believe so."

"Is it..." Guinevere bit her lip, trying to ground herself so she'd stop feeling like some drifting ghost, "—would you mind if I borrowed Elyan for the day?"

"Of course not, darling. What do you need him for?"

Guinevere blinked. "Our father," she answered, shocked to find herself telling the truth. "I thought Elyan would like to go with me, I need to visit our father's grave." I need to see him. Because he would have come for me when my mistress tried to kill me.

Arthur nodded sadly. "I understand. I can spare Leon, Gwaine, and Percival as well, I'm sure they'd like to be there for you." You always had someone there, close by, ready to set you free at any moment…I was not so lucky.

"Thank you," Guinevere heard herself say. Her husband kissed her forehead and strode out the room.

Soon she was dressed and saddled on her horse, surrounded by her brother and best knights, riding out through the wilderness, ready to be attacked and changed.

By the way, sorry about how shameless I was here...totally feel free to wear your Morwen femslash glasses with this one.

Next Dream: It'll be Merlin's.