Like a Mother to a Son
Morgana could never explain what had made her so attached to Mordred before she even knew his name. It wasn't something that she could put into words, order with reason – it wasn't logical, scientific, commonplace – it was something different; something pure, something instinctual, emotional, something mystical as if they had always belonged to one another; not in the shameful, ordinary, demeaning ways of lust that would cloud your judgment and quicken your heart, but in a transcendental, ethereal, higher way that bond them together in a web of love and fate, kinship and rivalry, betrayal and trust, flame and dust.