Hello!
Ok, today I'm feeling particularly inspired. And I don't have school tomorrow (yay!) and I have plenty of time to write.
This short story is a coda to 5x13 in Merlin's POV, while he reflects on Morgana's life. There's the slightest hint of Merlin/Morgana..
DISCLAIMER: Merlin belongs to BBC Network. I only own my ideas and my stupid brain.
Morgana's life had lasted a year.
Merlin had been a witness of it. He had seen her rise and fall. And while he was staring at the pile of stones, the tomb of the late witch, he concluded that her life had been like a year's seasons.
When he had arrived to Camelot, she had been in her spring. She was like a timid flower, just beginning to blossom in all its beauty. Her heart was so full of compassion, kindness, gentleness. And yet she was probably the strongest woman he had ever met in his whole life.
She then began to show the first signs of her magic. He had watched her glow in happiness after she discovered her powers and after she had found her long-lost sister. Her smiles had become brighter, happier. And he'd felt a sparkle of something he couldn't name, not different from what he'd felt for a cursed Druid girl not long before; a story destined to end in tragedy. He'd felt the same pain when he had to hold the king's ward in his arms, while she was gasping for breath, dying of a poison he had given her. He was sure she had died that day, in his arms, pure and unmarked like a white rose.
He had seen her again, and he had been full of shock and joy in seeing her dishevelled form making its way towards him and the knights. His relief had been short-lived, though. Not soon after, he had discovered her betrayal, and he couldn't help but blame himself for it. And yet, he was sure that had he tried harder, had he trusted her just a little more, she could have been redeemed. Autumn was arriving, bringing with it pain and sorrow. She had left Camelot, living alone in a dark, cold hovel in the middle of the forest. All he could feel for her wasn't rage, but sadness and regret.
Winter came, along with the pure hatred and coldness coming from the witch. He heard that she had been imprisoned at the bottom of a well for two years; her madness was almost justified. And in the end, after he had run her through with the king's sword, her pained expression had saddened him. Not like Arthur's death, but he felt she deserved a proper burial.
Morgana's life had lasted a year.
"Goodbye, Morgana."
It was quite short, wasn't it? Well, I don't care.
I hope you liked it!
A special thanks to HolyHeraHazel, my beta-reader. Thank you so much!
Bye!
-MildeAmasoj