A/N: A little something inspired by 4X13. Very short. Sigh, I miss having time to write. Enjoy!

XX

The anticipation overwhelmed her more than her pride could bear. The simple utterance of his name sent chills down her spine as dread gripped her throat. She did not (want to) understand.

When he burst through the large doors, something in the darkest recesses of her heart stirred. There was a sad, weak voice from a part of her that had been locked away for countless moons: She should be one of them. It yearned to be alongside these pathetic creatures, fighting against evil that threatened an ancient, blood soaked land.

Instead, she was the one to bring misery to Camelot.

And she would revel in it, every last second. Enough foolish games.

But when she accused him of cruelty, of the sins of his – their – father, she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she lied. There was no hatred for her kind in his eyes; in his teary, pained, (beautiful) eyes. No hatred for her despite all she had done. Her front hardened as her inner strength crumbled.

She detested how he made her feel. How after all her efforts to become stronger, one single look from him could make her doubt her beliefs, doubt herself.

To her anguish, her magic refused to kill him. Try as she might to summon it, it acted as a river: it would not go against its current, against its nature. She could harm anyone, but not him.

A tear clung to the edge of his blue eyes. Not so powerful now, my Lady.

And with his last two words, he brought her down.