A/N: This is my first ever fanfic, so please let me know what I can do better. Flames and CCs are appreciated
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or the BBC
"When the Fires of Idirsholas burn again for the first time in three hundred years, the witch will burn with it."
You don't hear the dragon's last remark – you've already shut the metal gate to the dragon's den. Besides, you already have more than enough to think about, more than enough riddles to decipher and more than enough hurt plaguing your mind. So you walk briskly to Gauis' room and search for a substance with which to poison your friend – the only friend you think you can trust with your secrets (which in reality is much, much more important than your life).
You feel your fingers – coated with a sheen of sweat – wrap around the cold glass of the bottle that holds hemlock. You've seen Gaius use it in euthanasia, and you know only too well it can kill in seconds. You will time to speed up because you can't stand how much of a coward you really are ('what good will come from this anyway?' The voices ask. 'Your destiny? A united Albion, with magic flowing through the land? Are you really that selfish?')
By now, you feel your legs turn to lead and your senses numb, and you really can't tell if it's from Morgana's – Morgause's – spell or from pure dread on what you know will happen next. And so you take a deep breath and repeat excuses and feeble reasons to why killing a friend isn't completely evil over and over again in your mind, but it doesn't stop your heart from falling (not breaking, because it's been broken beyond repair far too many times to stitch back together properly) apart when you hand her the poison. It doesn't stop a tear streak down your face as you watch her burn.
You stand by helplessly as you watch the fire burn away the Morgana Camelot so needs to prevail - what Albion so needs to prevail; you stand by and watch as the flames warp the Lady Morgana to the person who will be Morgan Le Fay, traitor, sorceress, bane of Arthur, end of Camelot and the fire that will burn you to the ground.
But for now you hold her close, try to tell her with your eyes why you have to kill her, why her death is so essential for Camelot – for Arthur – to prevail. Your silent pleas fall on blind eyes (blinded by fear and hate and hemlock) and all you've really done is seal her to a destiny even the three Fates tried so hard to stop.
"When the Fires of Idirsholas burn again for the first time in centuries, the witch will burn with it." You never realise it, but he hides the fact Albion will never reach its foretold greatness if Morgana burns.