The Light in Every Darkness

Morgana's blood froze in her veins at the sight which stood before her.

When she had left her little hovel she had closed the door behind her, but after she had returned from collecting herbs for her spells, it was open ajar. That wasn't right, Morgana was not one to leave a door open behind her. She could see the leaves before the door had also recently been disturbed, someone had come here, recently. They could still be inside.

Her first thought was that Emrys had come again, he was here to kill her this time, and her heat was gripped with fear. Another thought was that she might have been found by some Camelot Knights, perhaps even her own dear brother had stupidly stumbled across her dwelling. That didn't fill her with so much fear, she could defeat them. Any excuse to kill a Camelot Knight, any excuse to take revenge.

Morgana wasn't sure how long she had stood there, staring at the entrance to her hovel. Shadows around her lengthened as the cold day slowly drew to an end. She couldn't stand out there forever, there was no sound of life within her hovel. But anyone, or anything, could be hiding in there. She had to find out what. Morgause wouldn't want to see her so afraid of nothing but an open door.

Slowly, Morgana stepped forward and pushed the door open. It swung aside for her with a satisfying creek. She peered into her hovel, but all she could see was darkness, a few typical silhouettes stood out to her - her desk, her bed, clusters of phials, just as they always were, nothing out of the ordinary.

Cursing herself for still feeling so nervous, Morgana stepped into her hovel. She looked closely at her surroundings as her eyes got used to the dark, but still she could see nothing. The room was silent too.

In the end, with a single whispered magical word, Morgana lit a candle, so she could have a proper look at her hovel. The little flame bathed Morgana's grubby hovel in a yellow light, casting long shadows, but giving her a clearer view of everything around her.

Then Morgana noticed something out of the ordinary. A bundle of rags at the end of her bed. She did not recognise these, she had not left them there when she left the hovel. And it was moving too, something was underneath the rags.

With a sudden wave of fury, that someone would dare come and hide in her own home, Morgana rushed forward with a growl like a wild dog and grabbed the pile of rags, giving them a harsh pull. She expected Emrys to be hiding underneath it, or some foolish Camelot Knight thinking he could spend the night in her hovel. Either way, she was going to kill whoever she found underneath it.

But to Morgana's surprise, it wasn't Emrys or a young Camelot soldier, it was an old woman.

The old woman gasped with fear when she looked up and saw that she had been discovered and the fierce look in the witch's eyes. She tried to scramble away from Morgana, who couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for this pathetic creature. So wrinkled and thin, with long, untidy grey hair and bright green eyes which seemed somehow faded. Still, she was annoyed that the woman had broke into her house. But instead of killing her she grabbed the rags that the old hag was clothed in and pulled her up to her feet.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Morgana demanded.

"Please don't hurt me!" Begged the old woman, "I meant no harm!"

"I'll be the judge of that," Morgana growled. "Now answer my questions."

The old woman sighed suddenly, and looked very forlorn and tired, almost...disappointed. "Don't you think if I meant harm I would have done something already Morgana Pendragon? And do you really think I could be able to put up a fight against a high priestess? Let me go."

Morgana was surprised by these words, but what surprised her more was when the hag said this, there was a flicker of an expression on her face that she recognised. The old woman reminded her of someone, but she couldn't think who. The woman did look very weak as well, and Morgana felt a slight pang of sympathy. She let go of her, and the hag sighed, sitting down on the edge of Morgana's bed, looking very tired.

"Thank you."

"I'd still like to know what you're doing here," Morgana said. If this woman knew her name, she wasn't just a homeless person looking for some shelter from the night, she must have known Morgana was here.

The old woman smiled, "I do like your fiery spirit Morgana, you stand up for yourself, even against Uther. You're ready to put up a fight, not let others know you're afraid. Because you are afraid, afraid of your own future and that the destiny you have strived so long for might turn to dust."

Morgana stared at the hag, aghast, how could she know such things? "Who are you?" She repeated, but this time her question came out in a whisper of fear.

All of a sudden there was a terrible sadness in the woman's eyes, a sadness Morgana had never seen in anyone before. "To you, a stranger. A nobody, like I am to so many others. I am always there but I pass in shadow, because no one takes notice of a defenceless, penniless old woman. In a way I am grateful they don't, I have enough trouble in my life than to attract unwanted attention. I am not as old as I look or feel inside, but thanks to so many years of living on the run, hiding from the ones I used to love, I have become like this, because everyone has turned against me. The whole Kingdom has, even though I have done nothing wrong. I have made mistakes in my life, as everyone has done, but I never meant any harm. So long hiding away, never having a real home. I just keep out of sight and watch the world go on without me."

Morgana sat down beside the woman, sympathy heavy in her heart at these words. She had not felt sympathy for anyone for a very long time, too focused on those who had turned against her, and her own troubles. She was like this woman too, she was hiding away and on the run, no one really cared for her any more, the whole Kingdom had turned against her. Was this who she was going to become, without a friend in the world? This old woman needed a friend.

"You look like you need something to eat," Morgana spoke into the silence. "I don't have much, but there is enough here for a meal for two."

The woman looked up at Morgana, and there was a glimmer of happiness and hope in her eyes. Her wrinkled mouth formed into a smile, and there was a feeling within Morgana again that she knew this woman. "Thank you."

Morgana stood up and made her way over to her shelves, which contained all her medicines and foods. As she picked up some vegetables, she wondered if perhaps she should also give the woman some medicine, she looked like she needed some to keep her going strong. She suddenly realised this old woman may not be long for this world.

As Morgana prepared the food, she asked the woman how she knew her, not in an accusing way, but more in curiosity, a conversation to pass the time as she chopped up the vegetables with a knife.

"I've been watching you, watching you for so many years. It's nothing to be alarmed about," the woman added quickly, before suspicion replaced Morgana's sympathy. "I did not follow you around all your life, I just...watched out for you. I came to Camelot when I could risk it, you know what it's like for people with magic there, but I had to take the risk just to see how you were. I would see you passing in the market, watch you at a castle window. To you I was nothing but a stranger in the crowd, you never realised I was there, but I wanted to see you, to make sure you were safe."

"Why me?" Morgana asked, as she lit a fire under the cauldron in the middle of her hovel and added the prepared vegetables. "I am no cook, but would vegetable stew be all right?" She added.

"It will be a better tasting meal than I have had in a very long time." Said the old woman, but then she fell into silence. Morgana could tell there was something this woman was afraid to tell her, a secret locked away for so long. She wouldn't follow the King's ward for no reason. Morgana would get down to the bottom of it, but she couldn't demand an answer straight away. She had to be a friend. "You say you have magic too?" She said.

The woman nodded, "Oh yes, I was quite powerful in my day, but that faded with time, along with so many other things. You have grown so powerful, I'm proud, you will do our people proud."

"Were you persecuted along with the others?"

"Yes, and that is the worst thing of all. I was forced to flee when the great purge started. My husband and my lover both turned against my people, and I was no longer welcome in my own home. I just disappeared one night, they assume I'm dead. To survive I even had to leave my own children behind."

"Children?"

"Yes, two girls." The old woman replied, she paused, before continuing. "And from then on I was forced to become a wanderer, no longer having a home, hiding away from those who were once my friends, trusting no one. I had been betrayed by everyone who I had loved, and was forced to live a pitiful existence, alone. I had so much once, but I never realised until I left it."

Morgana knew exactly how the woman felt. Betrayed by those she cared about, and now had to live alone, in a pitiful hovel. "I too have been through something similar, and now I live like this," she gestured around the hovel.

"At least you have a roof over your head." The woman pointed out. Morgana had never thought about it like that, she just thought about the grand Camelot castle she once lived in, and that she longs to live in again, but this time as a ruler. "I am lucky if I have that."

"You could have found somewhere," Morgana added, stirring the bubbling stew. "Found a place where no one would talk, maybe even lived with the Druids. Somewhere with food, a roof over your head, somewhere safe."

The old woman shook her head sadly. "I could, but then I would stay in one place all the time, and although I am tired of constantly moving, I would never have had a chance to see you. I lost track of Morgause, but because you stayed in Camelot I managed to see you, watch you grow into the woman you have become. You may have gone from a castle to a hovel, but I'm still proud of all you have achieved, all you have worked for."

There was a pause, Morgana felt a lump in her throat. "Not many people have said they're proud of me," she said finally, in an attempt to end the silence. She couldn't bring herself to tell the woman Morgause was dead. Perhaps the old woman had seen the two together and knew what had happened, but either way Morgana didn't want to talk about it, and it seemed neither did the woman.

"I should have, I should have every day, but I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry." The old woman muttered.

"It's not your fault," Morgana replied.

After that the silence fell again. Morgana finished cooking the stew in quiet thought, while the old woman rested. Soon it was finished, and the two women sat down together to eat.

The woman smiled, a peaceful smile, as if all was right in the world, as she looked down at the stew and then up at the young woman sitting opposite her. "This is nice," was all she said.

Morgana didn't reply, she didn't know what to say any more. She was sure she knew who this woman was now, and there were a thousand things she wanted to tell this woman, who looked so frail and tired as she ate her stew, but she just didn't know how to say it.

When the meal was finished the woman smiled at Morgana again, "That was very nice, thank you."

Morgana shrugged, she didn't think it was that good, but she was glad the woman liked it. "You can stay here too for the night, if you need to."

A mixture of surprise and joy filled the woman's face. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Morgana smiled.

When Morgana woke up that morning she had never imagined her day would end with tucking an old, weak woman into her own bed. But she was glad to be doing it.

"I cannot thank you enough Morgana, this is more kindness than I have known for a very long time." The old woman said. "To be honest I am so tired I feel I could sleep for an age, and now that I have met you, I feel I can."

Again, Morgana shrugged, she smiled too, but there was worry in her eyes. "It's nothing."

For a moment she thought the old woman had fallen asleep already. She looked more tired by the minute, and her eyes had flickered shut. But she opened them again and with effort, said, "Morgana, I have to tell you something."

Morgana sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the woman to speak.

"I say I am proud of you, and really, I am. But I'm worried about you too, about what you have done. I see a dark side of you that makes my heart sorrowful. I used to feel the fire in your veins, a rage and desire to take revenge, but mine has died down with time and I never got to take vengeance. You have, but it has not dampened your flame, and there is blood on your hands too. It pains me to say it, and I think it pains you too, so I must tell you something. There is a light to every darkness. Your heart has turned dark with the urge to take revenge, and I implore you to look instead at the light that is inside you, instead of the darkness. You can still help your people, but you don't have to kill. I know the light is there, I see it sometimes, and I feel it. Some may think that all light has gone from you, but they are wrong. Hold onto it, cherish it. Do not let the light die. In my darkest hours I would see your determined face and it would be my own light. I am so happy to see you safe and well, independent and powerful, but you can make me even more proud. You're giving an old woman you have never met a bed and food for the night, you have light to the darkness of your world, do not let it extinguish."

"I won't, I promise." Was all Morgana could think to say.

The old woman smiled, and she looked awash with relief. Within a few minutes she was sleeping.

There was nowhere else for Morgana to sleep, but she took use of an old blanket and a chair. With so many things racing through her head, she thought she would never be able to get to sleep, but she felt comforted and safe with the old woman, and she hadn't felt like that in a while. She steadily drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

When Morgana woke up the next morning, she knew the old woman was dead. There was a feeling in the air, a sense of loss, something was missing. She pulled herself slowing out of the chair and made her way over to the bed.

Sure enough, there was the old lady, sleeping peacefully as she had been the night before, but her chest wasn't moving with steady breaths, and her face was deadly pale. When Morgana touched her cheek it was stone cold.

The old woman had finally found peace, so now she could sleep.

Tears rolled down Morgana's cheeks as she looked down at the old woman. She knew who this person was, but she had come into her life too late. She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed down at the old woman.

"You would have been my light in my darkest hours too mother, if only you could have stayed with me. It's Uther's fault, he forced you to flee, so you could never be happy, and we could never truly be together. I could never sit on your lap as you told me stories, you could never look after me when I was sick, and we could never play together in the grounds of Camelot when the sun was shining. In all the times I felt so afraid, you could have been there for me, and I could have been there for you whenever you were sad. But it was never meant to be just because of who you are. You have reminded me, mum, of the light that is in every darkness, and I won't let you down. I won't be afraid of the future, I will keep on fighting for you, for other mothers and daughters who might be cruelly separated and left on the streets, just because of who they are. I promise mother, I will make sure you stay proud of me."

That morning Morgana dug a grave outside her hovel, just where the sunlight came shining through the trees. There she buried the mother she never truly knew, yet her heart was broken. Her mother would have never betrayed her, they could have achieved greatness together, but some things are never meant to be. But she will not have died in vein. Despite what she had said Morgana's flame grew with the desire to take more vengeance and achieve her destiny, for her mother.

Morgana left a pile of stones on the grave, and carved into them with magic:

Vivienne

Loving mother

The light in every darkness

No one noticed the grave was there, but every summer bright flowers grew upon it, and Morgana would never forget where it was. Nor would she forget that fateful night when she met the most important woman in her life, and was able to finally bring her peace.

I randomly came up with this idea when I was looking up about Morgana and realised we hardly knew anything about her mother, I assumed she had died long ago, perhaps it childbirth, but could it ever be possible that she was still alive, and out there, somewhere? And what if she ever tried to find Morgana and they managed to talk?

I've never really written something like this before, so would love to know what you think! :)

Thanks for reading! :)