No Turning Back
Once upon a time, this had been her place — her home.
No, never a home. That had been gone long ago; along with her father's arms and her mother's hugs.
Still, a place where she knew where she stood. It was supposed to be familiar.
Now, everything about it smelled rotten — the waste of hundreds of human bodies stuck too close to each other. There was no comfort to be had when a distraction might cost her very life.
Ironically, this had been the case before. She just didn't know — but now there was no turning back.
It was easy to lie to Uther — he had always been one to fool himself with what he wanted to believe — and there was some truth to it. She had known very little and had been very innocent when she left. A girl, crying out for help, terrified.
Now she knows who she is.
A novice, but still a priestess.
A woman who had no place in Camelot, in the world filled with hatred that Uther had created.
Still, she had hoped to find some measure of succour in the things she had cherished for years.
And yet, not even Gwen's smile was the same. There was a strain in it, undeniable, as if she didn't know what to make of her.
It made her want to cry.
Arthur was warm — he had never been warm. She knew it was relief, but there was little she could do to stop the way it irked her.
Morgan knew he loved her; but had he known the truth, he wouldn't come near her.
As if magic was the disease, instead of the hatred in their hearts.
So long ago, she had pleaded for Merlin's help, and he had guided her.
Now, she knew better. He knew her secrets, it was true, and despised her for them.
His smile was the same, but she now knew it to be a mask.
She'd never trust him again.
Leon was deferential, as usual, but there was a new light in his eyes.
Once she he had been terrified of her — her wit, her beauty.
Now, he clearly pitied her, and she hated him for it.
Gaius brought her the same vials as ever — as if they had ever had any effect.
He was kind and patient, but that meant very little now. He might have been an ally — magic as he was.
But no, he was a traitor to his kind, and would defend Uther to the end.
Stepping out of the walls of the castle was like breathing for the first time in a long day.
Morgana breathed the scent of the trees, buried her toes in the dirt. Nature was her mother, the home of the triple goddess, where she belonged.
There was no space for her in the brick and mortar of man, so devoid of life.
She walked towards her sister with happiness in her heart — together, they would do it. They would bring Camelot down, and revive the realm of men with power, with life, with magic.
Maybe then, she'd be able to breathe again.