Entry tags:

fandom: merlin, het, rating: pg-13

Her Father's Daughter: Merlin Ficlet
Author: Bitterfig
Title: Her Father's Daughter
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Pairing: Uther/Morgana with maybe a hint of Uther/Morgana's father
Summary: In many ways, Morgana reminded Uther of her father.
Word Count: 356
Beta Reader: Fedink
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: It’s always a little disturbing when the foster dad is thinking S&M-tinged unchaste thoughts.
Author’s Note: Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII for the prompt “inheritance”.

Her Father's Daughter

Uther would say only that Morgana’s father had been a dear and cherished friend.

He admitted to no one, himself least of all, that there had been so much more between them.

Deceptively fragile, pale and prone to nightmares, Morgana’s father was the bravest man Uther had ever known. When it came to what he believed was right. He might tremble with fear but he would not back down even if it meant going against his king. He alone dared to say that Uther’s policies towards magic-doers were harsh and unjust. He went one step further and called Uther cruel and unreasonable to his face.

He had a talent for provoking Uther beyond endurance, for arousing strong and contradictory feelings. Often Uther would find himself torn between admiration for the man’s courage and resolve and a desire to see him broken.

For years, Uther’s dear and cherished friend drove him mad. Invading armies, wizards and dragons were a welcome relief from the dark fire his friend ignited in him, a passion for the man he could not allow himself to see or act upon.

Morgana was her father’s daughter in so many ways. From the start, she had his defiant spirit, his courage, his determination. She was so much like her father in all those ways that had been so maddening, so provocative to Uther. That she was a woman, a beautiful, voluptuous woman only made her more tantalizing, more frustrating, and more dangerous for both of them.

She was his ward, and Uther was above all bound by honor. He would no more touch her than he would have her father but sometimes he lost control in other ways. Sometimes he was cruel, tyrannical in the lengths he would go to force her to summit to his will. In punishing her he found a voluptuous pleasure that was always followed by deepest shame just as sickness follows too much wine.

Why did she have to have her father’s dark, accusing eyes?

It was her inheritance, passed from father to daughter, the gift for stirring the conflicted desires in a king who demanded certainty in all things.