netgirl_y2k (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
netgirl_y2k) wrote2011-10-25 06:58 pm
netgirl_y2k) wrote2011-10-25 06:58 pm
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I never met a writing meme I didn't like...
Because I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing more often, and because I was saying not so long ago that I actually do tend to know what happens after my fics, it just never gets written down because I don't so much finish stories as stop when I get bored or feel I've written a sufficient number of words. Anyway, I don't think I've done this one before: the timestamp meme
Give me one of my stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future (after the end of the story), or sometime in the past (before the story started), and I'll write you at least a hundred words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.
fic masterlist or AO3, as you prefer.
Give me one of my stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future (after the end of the story), or sometime in the past (before the story started), and I'll write you at least a hundred words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.
fic masterlist or AO3, as you prefer.
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*
Using some sixth sense available only to Time Lords, the Doctor knew that it was Christmas Day. This despite the fact that the three of them were half a galaxy away from Earth and it was, local time, the middle of July.
He and Donna rounded up Morgana, who had either been attempting to foment a small local revolution or trying to impress a pretty girl - and one day Donna was going to sit her down and have a chat about how the two things should really be easier to distinguish between - and they all trooped back to the TARDIS.
And landed on Sylvia Noble's begonias on, miracle of miracles, Christmas morning.
*
"You could have called and said you were coming," said Sylvia, "I don't know if I've made enough food."
"Mum, you always make enough to feed five hundred."
"And there's no presents."
"I don't need anything, and the Doctor and Morgana only need something shiny to look at."
Donna, Sylvia and Wilf paused waiting for an indignant response that never came; the Doctor and Morgana having found a family sized box of chocolate to investigate.
*
They watched the Queen's Speech. Well, it was tradition, and Wilf liked it.
The Doctor told scandalous stories about Queen Elizabeth, but as he kept getting which Liz he was talking about muddled up, no one was sure if he meant the current Queen Elizabeth.
Morgana, who as a rule was not a fan of monarchies, seemed broadly in favour of a ruling queen.
*
They let Morgana carve the turkey, because it was probably cruel to show her the carving knife and not let her use it.
Donna passed her sprouts to Wilf when Sylvia wasn't looking, just like she had when she was six. The Doctor spied her doing it, and started passing his sprouts to Wilf too.
*
Morgana had seen in three Christmases in the TARDIS and still didn't fully understand the tradition. Mostly they seemed to involve larger than usual alien invasions; her favourite had been the one where she'd got to cleave off a Dalek eyestalk with her sword.
Still, she pulled a cracker with Wilf cheerfully enough, and anyone trying to take the purple paper crown away from her was going to have a fight on their hands.
*
The Doctor and Morgana sat in front of the television, casting glances over their shoulders at Donna who was in the kitchen with her mother and grandfather.
"Nice, isn't it?" said the Doctor. "Family, I mean."
"Yes," agreed Morgana. "I mean, to visit, you couldn't do it every day."
"No, well, certainly not with your family, and certainly not if you still had that carving knife hidden up your sleeve."
"I was going to put it back before we went," said Morgana defensively.
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Morgause fumbled for her mobile, which she must have dropped on the floor when they'd fallen exhausted into bed. "Six in the morning. We must have slept right though." She curled back into Morgana. "I'll have to get up soon."
"How soon?" asked Morgana with sleepy playfulness, crawling on top of Morgause and nuzzling at her neck. The bed was warm and the rest of the flat was cold, the omnipresent London drizzle managing to make everything feel damp, even indoors.
"Are you okay?" Morgause asked when Morgana froze mid-seduction.
"Fine. I just -" She rolled away from Morgause and stared up at the ceiling "- the time difference is playing tricks on me."
"I have to get up anyway or I'll be late." Morgause gave her a quick kiss and padded in the direction of the bathroom.
"The last tenants complained that the hot water took ages to heat up," Morgana called after her.
"I told you we should have stayed in a hotel."
It had been Morgana's idea to come along this time, her first visit back to London in two years. Morgause had to come for a series of meetings that she hadn't been able to pawn off on Cenred, and Morgana needed to sell her flat which had been sitting unoccupied since the last lot of tenants had left three months ago. And anyway, at this time of year New York was bloody freezing while London was merely damp. And Morgause had suggested they might make a holiday of it. Paris, or Rome if Morgana preferred, to celebrate their two-year anniversary.
Really, they'd been together for longer than that, but it was two years ago that they'd been sitting in the Heathrow airport departure lounge and Morgana had looked at Morgause, really properly looked at her. At his woman who she loved though she'd tried time and again not to, who she wanted desperately and constantly, and who loved Morgana enough to want to take her away and start a whole new life. It was then and there that Morgana had decided to take the knowledge of their shared parent and put it into a box in the deepest darkest corner of her mind and not think of it again.
And in New York it had worked; when asked how she and Morgause had met Morgana spun an elaborate tale of an office romance and almost started to believe it herself. Once, at a Christmas party she overheard Morgause parroting the same story to someone else. Later, when Morgana asked her about it Morgause raised Morgana's hand to her lips and said, "History, my love, is written by the victors."
But now they were back in London, and in London people knew.
Morgana tried to concentrate on whether the bedroom ceiling needed painted and if she should get the flat surveyed before or after she got a plumber in to see to the complaining pipes. She didn't actually notice that the water had stopped running until Morgause sat down on the edge of the bed, fully dressed and offered her a cup of tea.
"Black, I'm afraid. There wasn't any milk."
"I know, I know," said Morgana, propping herself up on her elbow, "we should have stayed in a hotel."
Morgana drank her tea and Morgause perched on the edge of the bed applying eyeliner with a handheld mirror. It would have been oddly nostalgic except that the first time they'd been together in London they hadn't exactly been the tea and toast in bed sort of couple.
"Are you going to see anyone while we're in London?" Morgause asked.
Fuck, no. Uther was a nonstarter. The last she'd heard from Arthur was when he'd reported her missing and Morgana had needed to make an awkward long distance phone call to a bemused young man from the metropolitan police and explain that she hadn't, in fact, gone missing, it was just that she'd suddenly emigrated, so suddenly, in fact, that she'd neglected to pack anything or tell anyone. She sent Gwen a postcard of famous New York landmarks every six months or so as a sort of proof of life, but the idea of actually talking to her was beyond the pale. And Merlin, Leon and Lancelot had always been more Arthur and Gwen's friends than hers.
She shrugged. "Estate agents, mostly."
Morgause smirked at her. Morgana recognised that smirk, it meant: be like that, then.
"Do you ever regret leaving London?" Morgause asked, overly casually.
The thing was, sometimes Morgana wished that Uther hadn't told the entire family about her sibling relationship with Morgause and fucked everything up the first time, more often she wished that he'd been lying or flat out wrong, but she didn't regret being with Morgause. And if she had to go to New York, which was too cold half the time and too hot the rest, and full of bloody Americans to boot, to be with her then that was fine.
If she'd had to go to the moon to be with Morgause then that would have been fine too.
She didn't say that though, it sounded terribly pathetic, the sort of thing Arthur might once have said of Gwen when he'd had too much single malt and was half asleep on Morgana's shoulder.
Instead she dragged Morgause back into bed and did her best to ensure that she was late for her first meeting.
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(Sansa and Dany are my favourites, so...)
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*
The Northern lords had been amongst the first to rise up against the Mad King, and amongst the last to support his daughter when she returned from exile to claim her throne. But support her they did, following Ned Stark's daughter as they had followed her father and her father's father.
(The she-wolf of Winterfell they call Sansa now. Once upon a time she would have been terribly insulted by that, now she clings to it; she is not a lion, was never a lion.)
The red and black standard of Daenerys Targaryen, the dragon queen, flew above Winterfell alongside Sansa's own grey direwolf. And from where she stood on the battlements Sansa could see the royal party snaking for miles down the Kingsroad.
(Daenerys will be at the head of it, her dragon queen always is.)
Sansa had assembled the household in the yard when the queen rode in - bloodriders, Queensguard, courtiers, advisors, and hangers on, the whole part and parcel of a royal visit at her heels - she sat a horse beautifully. Better, Sansa thought, than even the Knight of Flowers in his prime.
The queen slipped gracefully from her saddle and Sansa fell to her knees --
(a little melted snow and slush is nothing to the she-wolf of Winterfell)
-- the household followed her example.
Daenerys extended her hands to Sansa, assisting her to her feet. "My dear Lady Stark," she said for all to hear. Then, when she leaned in to brush her lips against Sansa's cheek she said, "We really must do something about this compulsion you feel to fall to your knees whenever you see me coming."
"Winterfell is yours, Your Grace."
(As am I)
There was a feast in the queen's honour. Under the table Daenerys touched Sansa's knee and said, "We needs must speak in private, my lady."
Sansa had food sent up to her solar, wine, instructed her guards that she was not to be disturbed.
"I must inform you that you are a widow, Lady Stark."
Sansa let out a breath that she'd been holding for over ten years. "Joffrey?"
"Tried to escape across the Narrow Sea with his mother and grandfather, I had their ship fired."
"They were all lost?"
(The kindest thing you could say about Cersei was the she was less cruel than her son. But for Sansa, for a time, Cersei being less cruel than Joffrey had been everything.)
"All lost." Daenerys looked away, out over Winterfell and the North. "You seem happy here, Sansa."
"I am. I'm home."
"Then I regret that I must ask you to leave it again so soon."
"Your Grace? I don't--"
"I fear I have been a conqueror too long and a Queen too little. King's Landing is a nest of vipers. I find myself embroiled in a game where I don't know the players and the rules keep changing. I need a Hand to guide me through."
(Eddard Stark, the Hand of King Robert; Sansa Stark, the Hand of Queen Daenerys.)
"My Queen, I'm flattered, but I fear I would be a very poor Hand to you."
"I spared the younger Lannisters, Tommen and Myrcella," Daenerys said as though Sansa hadn't spoken. "My council advised against it, what do you think?"
"That you have the right of it, Your Grace. They are not responsible for the crimes of their family, they were amongst the first to your banners, and killing them would only inflame the Westerlands against you."
"But can I trust them?"
"Tommen is a sweet man, and kindly. Above all, he's a very poor liar, if he is playing you false you'll know soon enough. Myrcella--" here Sansa paused to think "--Myrcella is more the Kingslayer's child than either of her brothers. It might be worth inviting her and her husband to King's Landing, offer them positions at court, then you could keep an eye on them."
Daenerys smiled, and you could see the bones of kingdoms in that smile. "Send the letter, my Lady Hand, tell Myrcella and her Dornishman that we'll expect them to meet us at King's Landing."
"Your Grace - Daenerys! - I haven't said yes yet."
"I noticed that," said the queen. When she swept back to the feast she left the wrought bronze pin that would identify Sansa as the hand of the dragon queen lying on the table.
(Was this how Father felt, when he left his home to answer the call of a king whom he loved?)
Sansa stayed where she was, staring at the pin, for a long while, and when she rose it was as Sansa Stark, the she-wolf of Winterfell and Hand of the Queen.
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Sansa as the Hand of the Queen is basically the best image ever.
If the books don't end kind of like this I am going to be so disappointed. (They better both be alive at the end or I will have words for GRRM)
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7.
"Are we planning to give our friends alcohol poisoning?" Gwen asks when Morgana returns from the supermarket with enough alcohol to float a battleship.
"Only if the situation gets desperate," says Morgana, unpacking two bottles of that extremely expensive vodka she favours, which Gwen has never understood because all vodka, no matter how expensive, tastes of nothing more than burning sensation to her.
"We're only going to have another flat warming when we get our new place."
For the moment Gwen is moving in with Morgana; there's more space, it's not a much longer journey to the garage in the mornings, and it's postponing the inevitable squabble about where they're going to live, how much it should cost, and who's paying for what.
"Yes," Morgana flashes Gwen one of her trademark diabolical smiles. "But it'll be a much smaller party because some of them may have died. By the way, there's a crate of beer in the car."
Of course there is, thinks Gwen.
*
Gwen's friends and Morgana's having bonded over the shared trauma of moving boxes of Gwen's stuff clear across London through Saturday morning rush hour, the party goes much better than expected.
Arthur is thinking of getting a new car and actually seeks Gwen out to ask her opinion, and Leon attaches himself to the conversation and tells Gwen that he finds her opinions on semi-automatic transmission "quite sensible."
Crouched on the floor by their feet Freya is examining Morgana's bookcases, which contain all the volumes to be expected of someone who read English at Cambridge. But Gwen happens to know that the books Morgana actually reads are in a box under her bed, tragic lesbian romances and the Game of Thrones books, mostly.
Gwen excuses herself and goes to the kitchen to get a fresh glass of wine, she shares an amused look with Freya as she goes; both of them have spent enough time with Merlin and Will to recognise the sound of boys pretending to know about cars.
She spares a sideways glance for Merlin and Owain, doing shots with what Gwen is fairly sure is Morgana's 25 year old single malt, and brushes her fingers over Morgana's wrist when she passes her girlfriend arguing about Margaret Thatcher with Will. Gwen smiles at that, because she knows that Morgana hates Thatcher as much as anyone else with two brain cells to rub together, she just pretends to be a fan to wind up Will.
*
In the kitchen Morgause is mixing herself a white russian, of all things. "I should apologise," she tells Gwen.
"Um."
Until now Gwen could have counted every word Morgause had addressed to her and still had fingers left over.
"I had assumed this relationship was Morgana's idea of a joke, but no, she says it's serious."
"You thought Morgana was going out with me for a joke?"
"Admittedly, I wasn't sure what the punch-line was going to be."
Finishing her drink Morgause left Gwen alone, obviously considering the subject closed.
*
Gwen has retreated to Morgana's bedroom - her bedroom too, now - to catch her breath and clear her head. There are boxes everywhere in here. Mostly, Morgana's been surprisingly considerate in making space for Gwen, but fitting Gwen, Morgana and all of Morgana's clothes into the bedroom is proving a challenge.
Gwen smiles when the door creaks open and Morgana slips inside.
"I thought you were arguing politics with Will?"
Morgana sets her glass on the sideboard, steps gracefully over a box and joins Gwen on the bed.
"I thought we'd best stop when we found ourselves acting out a scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail."
"What scene?"
"Watery tarts distributing swords is no basis for a system of government," Morgana quotes in a truly dreadful English accent, and Gwen bumps her shoulder against Morgana's affectionately.
"Won't we be missed out there?"
"I doubt it. Morgause has joined in the drinking game. It will be sad for Freya when Merlin dies, and of course I shall miss Owain, but it should keep everyone entertained."
Morgana tips her head forward and drags her teeth along Gwen's collarbone, pushing her skirt up her thigh.
"Oh. Oh. Morgana if someone comes in--"
"They won't."
"But if they do--"
"We return to Plan A, giving them alcohol poisoning."
"Well," Gwen pulls Morgana down onto the mattress, "as long as we've thought this through."
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Of course Morgana reads Game of Thrones.
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Um, I've overthought this a little, haven't I?
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Morgana starting a drinking game! Morgause drinking everybody under the table! Morgana having a secret stash of books underneath her bed! And Gwen, oh Gwen.
THIS IS SO CUTE IT'S ALMOST UNBEARABLE. ALMOST.
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I am experiencing all of the Gwen/Morgana nostalgia at the moment. Oh show, why did you have to hurt me so badly?
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*
"You are the worst Time Lord I've ever met!" exclaimed Merlin.
"And you were just tripping over lost Time Lords in Ealdor, were you?" Morgana spat back.
Between the five of them, over several weeks, they still hadn't discovered where the TARDIS actually ended. This afforded enough space for Morgana and Merlin to stay out of each other's way, at least most of the time it did.
Gwen bit her lip, looking worried as she always did when Merlin and Morgana quarreled, Morgause was leaning against a wall looking amused by the whole exchange, and Arthur grabbed Merlin by the shoulders, said, "Come on, there's more of this place to explore and I'm determined to find you a room of things to polish, I know how much you miss it," and wheeled Merlin from the console room.
Gwen gave Morgana a half-hearted little wave and followed the boys.
Morgause crossed to Morgana and hitched her hip up on the console, Morgana smiled at her sister - okay, so they weren't exactly the same species, but Morgana's entire home planet had been blown up by daleks, she was hanging onto her sister, thank you very much - and took a quick peek to make sure that Morgause wasn't about to sit on any important controls.
"Far be it for me to agree with Merlin," said Morgause, "but you do know how to land this thing, don't you?"
"Of course I can land it! Merlin is putting me off a bit, that's all."
"Well, I would have thought the solution to that was obvious."
*
It wasn't that Morgana hadn't considered leaving the TARDIS door on the latch and giving Merlin a surreptitious shove into the vortex - see how far his famed dragonlord powers would get him with the Reapers, but if Merlin wasn't around then Arthur would want to go home and he'd take Gwen with him, and Morgana actually surprised herself with how much she didn't want that to happen.
Also, Gwen, who was disturbingly good at knowing what Morgana was thinking, had specifically asked her not to.
"What if," Morgana had said, "I parked somewhere before kicking him out?"
After all, she'd accidentally landed the TARDIS in suspiciously inhospitable looking quarries more than once; surely she could find one again if she put her mind to it.
Gwen just gave her a look.
"I'll take that as a no, shall I?"
*
"Shouldn't you be a Time Lady?" said Arthur, with what Morgana could only describe as typical Arthur-ish obtuseness.
"No. Because Time Lord is what we are - were - all called, and because Time Lady makes it sounds like I spend all my time lying on couches eating Malteasers."
"That was all you did yesterday."
"Yes. Well. Chocolate is a relatively recent discovery in my life. Anyway, do you mind? I'm trying to drive."
"Looks like swishing about in a dress pressing buttons at random to me."
"Go away, Arthur."
*
"This is childish, Morgana," said Gwen.
Morgana realised that Gwen could be referring to any number of things and decided that a mixture of ignorance and outraged innocence was the approach to take. "What?"
"I know why you're refusing to land the TARDIS, it's because Merlin can't use his magic inside and you know it upsets him."
"It's not magic. It's an enhanced psychic ability that doesn't work in here because the vortex energies that power it are siphoned straight into the TARDIS engines."
"Morgause doesn't like not being able to use her powers either."
"That's cheating," said Morgana.
"I got this list of planets that would be nice for a holiday from the TARDIS, she's really very helpful once you know how to ask her."
"Faithless ship," Morgana grumbled under her breath, then, "I'll come get you when we land."
Gwen beamed. "We'll all be in the kitchen when you're ready. There will be tea."
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