Morgana was a happy child. She grew up with a father that loved her unconditionally in a household where every last servant adored the little girl. Sure, she never knew her mother and her father was gone often, sure the castle was old and drafty and cold, but Morgana never lacked human companionship and warmth.
Once, when she was six, she stumbled over a serpent in the castle garden. The snake reared up and attacked her so quick that the girl only realized it when she felt the burning pain in her ankle. The snake then proceeded to move over her leg to crawl away, and for the rest of her life Morgana remembered the warm smooth feeling of those scales, moving over her, slithering, slithering...
The snake didn't get far – her nursemaid heard Morgana's screams and came running among with the guard. The nursemaid gathered the little girl in her arms and the guard immediately smashed the snake's head in with the pommel of his sword. It was the first time Morgana saw death.
Later, her father came in and told her a story. In the story a brave and noble prince slew a wicked monster. "Like a snake?" - Little Morgana asked. - "Yes, dear one, like a snake. That's what princes do – they slay wicked snakes and save fair girls."
Scant days after Morgana turned ten, her world shattered. Her father, the center of her world, the man who would always hold her, who would come and reassure her that he would never let any monster near her, was slain in combat. Morgana was sent to King Uther, a cold man in a warm castle. He never held her and while he promised to protect her, Morgana never believed him.
She was eleven when she saw an entire family, including a little girl even younger than Morgana, burned at the stake. When she stopped crying and asked Uther why he hurt the innocent little girl, the King gripped Morgana by the wrist so hard that it hurt and told her that the girl had magic, that she was a monster and needed to be killed. "Like a snake?" - Little Morgana asked. - "Yes, Morgana, like a snake. That's what kings do – they slay wicked monsters."
That night Morgana woke up screaming, and she could have sworn that a snake crawled over her.
Two years later she had a dream about a horse throwing Arthur off. The next day it happened. This time the feeling of a slithering serpent kept her up for the entire night.
The dreams kept becoming worse and worse and finally Uther found out. When he asked her, Morgana could have screamed and ran, ran until she was far away from kings who slay evil magical monsters, but she managed to stammer that she had nightmares. The King attributed her paleness to lack of sleep and ordered Gaius to make her sleeping draughts.
A year later Morgana had a fight with Arthur. That night she had a vision of a wild boar attacking him on a hunt. The next day the Prince was brought back injured. That day Morgana gathered all her jewelry, even the only ring she had left from her mother, and gave it to the poor in Lower Town, as a punishment for herself and a repentance. Two days later she found out Uther executed them for theft. She never gave away her jewelry again.
When she was fifteen, Arthur had a crush on a servant girl. Uther found out and accused her of casting a love spell on his son. When Arthur became violently sick while watching her burn, Morgana felt a wellspring of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the Prince didn't want to slay wicked monsters.
The next day Arthur was send out with the knights to deal with the druid camp Uther's scouts found. Arthur returned a week later with a report that all the druids, including women and children, were hunted down and killed. Morgana didn't hope again.
Over the years, Morgana learned to hide her fear, she learned to ignore the slithering sensation that became her constant companion. She even questioned Uther's judgments in regard to magic-users, in a vain hope that one day he might listen to her, but he told her that she doesn't understand and that all sorcerers are monsters. Morgana understood.
When Merlin brought the druid boy to her chambers, she didn't hesitate for a moment before helping him, even if she had to consciously hold her hands back from scratching her ankle.
She was afraid, constantly ceaselessly terrified of Uther, but when he killed Gwen's father, all that fear turned to anger and hate. It was so easy, it felt so good, so right, to just let herself go and hate. That, more than anything, terrified her.
It was when she saw the candle's flames rise that she realized that all her fears were justified. She could no longer hide it. She was magic. She wasn't the fair girl, she was the snake.
In the brief time that she was with the druids, she felt at home. She didn't feel a monster, she didn't feel terrified of others and of herself. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to be the serpent and could have a happy ending. Then Arthur came and killed the druids and she remembered. Monsters don't get happy endings. They get slain by Princes and end up with their sculls bashed in.
When she met Morgause and found out about her relationship, Morgana cried. For the first time since coming to Camelot she had someone from her family, she had a link to her father, who loved her unconditionally, who would never have let her be a monster. It was Morgause who told her that she doesn't have to be terrified, that Morgause would never let Uther lay a hand on her sister. Morgana didn't have the heart to tell her that Uther frightened her, but the one Morgana was truly terrified of was herself.
When Mordred came again, this time with an anti-Uther friend, Morgana knew that aiding him would be a bad idea, but... Alvarr was a monster and Morgana was a monster, so what was truly so wrong with helping him steal a single crystal from Uther, especially since it doesn't belong to the King in the first place? The thrill of defying the King, of being herself without fear, was exhilarating. But, of course, monsters do not get happy endings.
Even talking with Morgause about Uther made Morgana feel as if the snake was slithering higher and higher up her leg, but by this time she's already lost all hope. After all, if she was a monster, she was allowed to be selfish and fight, even if doing so hurts others, right? Right?
She shouldn't have been surprised when Merlin poisoned her, after all, monsters do not have friends. Everyone would turn on them if they see what kind of a monster they are, so it really shouldn't have hurt that someone who seemed to accept her chose to kill her. It hurt.
The only one who wouldn't turn on her was her sister, because Morgause called off the Knights to save her, because Morgause took her to a safe place and treated her, because Morgause spend the next two weeks by her bed, catering to her every whim to help her get better. Because Morgause was a remnant of those happy days, a remnant of her father, who wouldn't hurt her even if she was a monster.
Morgause did not want to involve Morgana in any more of her schemes against Camelot, even if it would make it much harder to make them come to fruition, after all, Morgana almost died the one and only time she got involved. But while she lay there, Morgana realized something. Uther wasn't a Prince. He was a monster. He was a monster so vile, that he pretended to be a Prince in order to slay even other monsters. And Morgana wanted to stop him, because if she was a monster and she had to hurt people, she wanted to be a monster who would hurt other monsters and not innocents.
Her world came crashing down a second time when she found out that her father wasn't her father. She wasn't a daughter of Gorlois, who was good and loving and warm, she was a daughter of Uther, who was a monster so vile that he hurt everyone, including other monsters. It was as if Uther took away her childhood, the only time when she was happy, as if he made her an involuntary accomplice in lying to her father. And she hated him for it.
When she had to hurt Gwen, Morgana no longer hesitated. Monsters do not have friends and all she could do was turn on Gwen before Gwen turned on her.
It should have felt good to see Uther on his knees, weak and powerless. It didn't.
She should not have felt such fear, such terror at the thought of Arthur out there, at the thought of a great and noble Prince, preparing to slay a monster. She did.
These people are not her friends, Morgana told herself as she ordered the Blood Guard to fire at civilians if the knights did not swear fealty, they would have happily see her burn, cheer as the great and shining Prince bashed her scull in. It didn't make Morgause's surprise and slight fear any easier to take.
When her sister was hurt, was dying, Morgana would have given anything, would have happily given her life, to repay the debt. To sit at Morgause's side as she was recuperating, to cater to her every whim. Instead she had to plunge a dagger into the heart of the only person who knew her and accepted her the way she was, even if she wasn't a daughter of Gorlois. That day the slithering sensation was joined by the warm, wet feeling on her hands, as they coated in her sister's blood.
She was not surprised when Annis, who always treated her well as a child, recognized her for a true daughter of Uther and rejected her. The slithering sensation by now covered most of her body, making her feel cold and empty. Just like a serpent.
When she got her hands on Fomorrah, she wasn't frightened the way she was with a snake so long ago, and Fomorrah didn't bite her, recognizing her for a kindred spirit, just as evil, just as much of a monster.
Emrys. Her destiny and her doom. How she feared him, how she tried to turn that fear into hate. Emrys wasn't a great and shining Prince, he was a monster, like Uther. And she didn't want to die by the hands of a monster.
She choked when Arthur acknowledged her as a child of Uther, as a monstrous legacy of his father. It wasn't hard to once again turn all those emotions to cold, black hate. It was much, much easier to hate.
The White Dragon. The painfully beautiful creature circled in the sun and she wanted to scream at it for being so bright and innocent, when she was so dark and cold. And then, then the most wonderful thing happened. The creature came close, but instead of smiting her with its light, the White Dragon helped her, healed her the way not even Morgause managed, and Morgana wondered if she truly had to be a monster. After all, if such a bright and unimaginably good creature saved her, then surely she doesn't have to be all bad? Maybe, just maybe, she could leave Camelot with its Princes and monsters and dooms, maybe she could go far, far away, where nobody knows her and maybe she doesn't have to be a monster anymore.
Then he came. He attacked before her magic had returned and worse, he took the White Dragon, the one who promised light and warmth and goodness. Once again, Morgana felt just how much it hurts to care, but she did not stop. The White Dragon helped her, it was hurt because of her, and she would do everything to protect it. So when his men whipped her, when they burned her, when they drowned her, she did not fight back. She only fought back when they hurt the White Dragon. When he and his men realized it, they used the White Dragon's suffering to increase her own, while tightening their control over her. They used her body and made her beg them for it, just so they wouldn't hurt the White Dragon, but in the end even he got tired of his new plaything and he threw them both down a well into the darkness to die.
She did not know how long they spend there, but she suspected months, even years. Morgana managed to sustain herself and the Dragon, who wasn't so White and bright and innocent anymore, with her magic. She would have happily died there, just to end the torment, but the pitiful cries of the creature that was so good, that didn't abandon her, that got hurt and deformed and became a monster itself...
It was then that she realized that the darkness gave her strength. She tried not being a monster, but the only one who stood by her became a monster itself. Maybe she was meant to be a monster, maybe she never had a chance to be good, maybe it was her destiny. Morgana found that she no longer cared. As she lay in the dark, listening to the cries of her only friend, she remembered the world above, the bright world, and she hated it. She hated it the way she never hated anything else, she hated, until she had nothing left except hatred. She hated every single man, woman and child in that brightly-lit world, she hated them for abandoning her down here and she swore that she would see them dead.
Morgana knew that she was a monster, but this time it wasn't because of her magic or because of her fear or because someone made her one. No, as she lay in the darkness, she realized that there was only one person, who could make her a monster and that was herself. She smirked.
The world will pay in blood.