That night, the dreams were more vivid, more real, and though I reminded myself that they were just that – dreams – I was terrified.

Because usually, I dreamed of horrible things happening to others. Tonight, I dreamed of… me.

First, I saw a boy with dark-hair, his face as pale as salt, who stood over me, crying. Grief radiated off of him in waves, and I wanted to comfort him so badly. I was saddened by his tears for some reason, and I realized that whoever this boy was, he was dear to me. I saw myself, then, staring up at him. With the astuteness and ability to judge emotions that I sometimes get in dreams, I could read my own mind: Why? Why is he doing this?

But before I could discover what he'd done, the scene changed, and I saw myself again. This time I was different: cold, powerful, smiling—no, smirking. I saw the salt-face boy again, chained up, isolated, and crying with pain. He was surrounded by serkets, I saw, and my heart sped up. What was going to happen to him? I wondered, touched by how pathetic he appeared.

Then I saw me with golden eyes, whispering alien words to light a fire and holding something. A doll? And Arthur came into view, but he was far away from where I was, and something was wrong with him. He gasped for air as his eyes drifted closed, exhausted. I knew that whatever was happening to him, I was doing it.

Images flashed, faster and faster, each carrying a wealth of information that I couldn't process…

…I tumbled down the stairs, the dark-haired man screaming above me…

…Uther, my guardian, bowed his head in defeat; I smiled…

…A crown felt heavy on my head, but I liked it…

…I hated…Camelot mourned…

…They wanted to torture; I didn't care…

…The dark-haired man cried, over and over…

I awoke crying, my hair covering my face as I sobbed into my pillow. What was that? What did I do? my mind bleated as my shoulders shook, but quietly, so Gwen wouldn't hear. My tears tasted of salt.

What would I do, someday?

For a few minutes, there in the privacy of my own chambers, I lamented the death and the hate that hadn't happened. For when they did happen, I wouldn't care anymore.

But then, as tends to happen with dreams and truths, I forgot… mostly. The nightmare grew fuzzier and fuzzier around the edges. Soon, had I been asked, the only description I would be capable of giving was, "It was bad. I was bad."

And after my dream-induced sorrow wore off, I drifted back to sleep on a salty pillow.

The next day, I met the man whose job it would be to look after Arthur, and couldn't place why he looked so familiar. His hair was dark, his eyes blue, and he was thin.

His skin was as white as salt.

His name… was Merlin.

Years later, when I was Queen of Camelot, I dreamt again. This time it was different, but somehow so much more horrible.

In the dream, I was a young girl again. My father came into my room, upset, his eyelids heavy. He smiled at me sadly, and I realized that he had one of those silly problems that adults fret over so much, and really needed comfort. Smiling, I came to him and wrapped my thin arms about his middle. He held me tight, his hand caressing my dark hair. I never wanted to let go.

Now I was a little older, still smiling, but in a much more dangerous way. This time a sword was held in my hands, and I faced Prince Arthur, who had to be twice my size. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall," I assured him as our swords clanged together. He laughed, thinking I was kidding… until he found himself on his royal behind. Uther clapped, and I could tell he was proud of me, so I smiled. Then I offered Prince Arthur my hand. He took it, trying desperately not to smile.

I stood in Arthur's room now, watching as he leaned over his fireplace, troubled. He trusted me, telling me how worried he was, but how his father had forbidden him from taking action. And I placed my hand on his shoulder, like a sister should, and told him to hang the consequences; I would explain things to Uther personally. When he turned around, I was gladdened by his smile.

The pictures got shorter and faster, but this time I knew every piece of information behind them; I had lived them.

…I saw myself hiding the Druid boy with Merlin's help…

…Gwen smiled at me, trusting and happy…

…Uther wrapped me up in a warm hug…

…Merlin assured me that he could help…

…I traveled to Ealdor, ready to battle for the sake of a servant…

…I loved.

This time I woke up screaming, my mind crowded with emotions and memories that I didn't want. Morgause came running, but I didn't want her. I wanted Gwen to rock the nightmares away, but I couldn't have her because she was no longer loyal to me. I wanted Uther to come and ask after my well-being, but it wouldn't happen; I had Uther locked up I the dungeons, probably crying his eyes out. I wanted Arthur to come in, cocky as ever, and I wanted Merlin to be in the corner, looking concerned.

I could have none of that, for they were on the run from my wrath. If I had them here, I wouldn't accept their help. I would kill them.

"I'm going to be sick," I warned Morgause, and she stood back so I could, holding my hair back.

I looked at my bracelet, still firmly around my wrist, and I wondered why it hadn't blocked the dream. I guess there are some truths that just can't be blocked out.

All I wanted now was to turn back the clock… or did I? Everyone had betrayed me. But I wished they hadn't. I wished I was still carefree, loving and loyal…

I wished I was still Morgana.

And I held my stomach, moaning, "What have I done?"

Morgause stroked my hair, her large eyes worried, until I was back to myself and over my dream. Then I went back to sleep, hoping against hope that there would be no more dreams.

The next day, a boy, who was now really a man, destroyed my army and my sister with one fell swoop. I screamed at him that it wasn't over as I cradled her in my arms, and he looked down at me pityingly.

And I hated the sight of his salt-white face with all of my twisted, broken heart.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know what you are thinking: "Did Kitty O Seriously write ANOTHER Morgana one-shot?" Well, yes I did. Look for my next (more light-hearted) one soon! I'm posting the next Morgana oneshot/drabble on January 1st... Colin Morgan's birthday, the birthday of 2011, and only about a week before my own birthday. Hmm. I wonder what this fic could be about? (By the way, did anyone catch the Dragon's line?)

Did you like the title? I know I used the word 'salt' a lot in here, but I also thought it was interesting, because salt is used for flavoring, and I felt like the dreams and the flavor just seemed to tie in. What do you think? Is that a stretch?