I. The Bitter End

She would have accepted an immediate death over this any day.

Morgana's fingers dug into the soft earth as she dragged herself forward. Dirt caked her hands and beneath her fingernails, her dress ripped and soiled by the ground beneath her, her hair in mess clumps with tints of nature adorning the once glossy raven waves- leaves and twigs and if she as not mistaken, an insect or two. Her body was worn and crippled by all that the sorceress had faced- torture and battle and swords and magic. The pain in her stomach was unbearable, a bleeding open wound the mark of her loss- all that she hard worked for, all that she had sacrificed. Slowly, that wound would take Morgana's life, surely infected with how much she had been rubbing against the earth beneath her. Morgana could already feel a cold sweat break out on her forehead, a feeling that came only when one was on the brink of death. And surely, she was standing on the edge.

The sorceress's breaths came out in ragged, uneven pants as she struggled to get ahead. A few times, she stopped and had coughing fits. The last two times, after she had opened her eyes after coughing, they found spots of blood on the dirt beneath her. All those times she stopped, she uttered whatever spell came to mind to make the pain go away. The best she could do was stop the bleeding but each time was short-lived and she'd have to repeat the spell as to not lose all her blood. Crossed with fear and hopelessness, Morgana knew the end was near. Yet here she was, pulling forward, like something inside her refused to let her die. But she wanted to. What was the use in living anymore? How much more were the gods above going to taunt her and let her live? How much longer was she going to silently beg them to take her life? Morgana knew she had been a cruel woman, though she was willing to argue that cruelty was subjective. But this was a punishment that no one deserved, not even her. Let the gods take me, she thought, her chest heaving up and down, I don't care where they send me. Banish me to hell. It would be paradise compared to this.

It had felt like days that Morgana had been crawling through the unmerciful, endless forest, when it had only been some hours. Some hours since she had cornered a fatally wounded Arthur and Merlin on their journey to the Lake of Avalon to save the king. Some hours since she had come so close to finally killing her half-brother, the one standing in her way of her claim to Camelot's throne. And some hours since Merlin had ran her through with his blade- a blade forged with the dragon's breath, surely meant to have killed her. Morgana had thought she was dead right there as she had felt the way she was now; life slipping from her fingers. Her last memory had been Merlin's grim expression as he struck the sword into her and watched her slide to ground in agony. She was supposed to have died. Instead, Morgana awoke once more where she lay, Merlin and Arthur nowhere to be seen. From there, she had crawled away, where, she did not know. She merely hoped all this stressing herself out would give her what she wanted. Merlin probably saved Arthur already and the two could very well be making their way to Camelot. The only way Morgana's bitter end would come would be with her death and it was taking longer than desired for it to come.

She stopped for a moment, palms pressed against the rock strewn earth, gasping a little. Morgana supported her weight on her arms, the rest of her body laid down, staring directly down. If she could see her reflection right now, she would burst into tears. A mix of emotions rose up in her, of anger and sorrow and regret and above all, hatred. How she hated Arthur for stealing what was hers. How she hated Merlin, or better yet, Emrys, her destiny and her doom. How she hated Gwen and the Knights of Camelot and the people of the damn city and everyone who had ever done her wrong. Once upon a time, Morgana had been the beloved ward to King Uther. Another time, a powerful High Priestess of the Old Religion, destined to bring back the old ways. What was she now? Worthless, beaten, bruised, defeated… was this fair? Was this right? However evil Morgana had been, life had been ten times more so to her all her life.

Fighting back a scream, Morgana pushed ahead a little more until she could no longer feel her fingers. She pulled up against a tree and rested against the trunk, panting so heavily, her lungs felt ready to explode. The sorceress pressed a hand to her stab wound, the warm, dark liquid staining her palms. She uttered the same spell, almost soundlessly, her eyes flashing a weak gold shade. The pain did not go away but the bleeding stopped again. Morgana lay there and closed her eyes for a moment; maybe she could bleed to death. If the sword hadn't killed her, this surely would. Merlin and Arthur would finally get what they wanted, after years of trying.

Morgana's lids rose halfway. Night had started to fall and the forest blackened with darkness. A cool wind had begun to pick up and it felt good, refreshing even. It was hardly ominous for her, being alone in the forest, unsure of where she was exactly. If Morgana was not mistaken, Avalon was a day's ride from here. But Arthur had Emrys- they would have gotten there in no time, with whatever powers Emrys had that Morgana could only dream of. She shivered a little, thinking of the two back safe in Camelot, congratulated by everyone, celebrations thrown in their honor for fighting her off. And Merlin would finally receive the credit he deserved now that his identity was revealed.

Merlin. The sorceress's eyes opened all the way, her mouth opening a little. Never in a hundred centuries would Morgana have guessed the clumsy serving boy to King Arthur was the most powerful warlock in all the world. He had been the one to thwart her plans each and every single time. From when Morgana worked inside Camelot to bring about its downfall to the battle at Camlann, where she lost nearly all her men... and Mordred. She bit her lip and swallowed back a lump in throat, remembering earlier on when she had buried Mordred and promised him she would get their revenge. Along with herself, she had failed him too. She had failed her kind- Mordred, her sister Morgause, and anyone else who had believed she would bring back the old ways. All because of Merlin.

He is of my kind, Morgana thought, staring out into the darkness of the trees, and yet he has stayed by Arthur's side since the first day. By the side of a man who has killed his people, the son of a king who mass murdered our own. He stayed all the time, tolerated their hate for magic…

That is not something you could ever understand. Morgana's eyes widened, a voice- her voice- speaking back to her in own mind. What would you understand of Merlin's actions? So consumed with bitterness and hatred you are. You could not begin to understand his love and faith in Arthur that he would bring peace to the land, between your kind and his. You are blinded. You failed when you turned your back on them. And now, prepare to welcome your bitter end.

A scream erupted from Morgana's mouth and she slammed her fist onto ground, scraping her knuckles on the scattered stones all over the dirt. She lurched forward, clutching her stomach. I must be hallucinating from all this pain. I was not wrong, I worked for what was rightfully mine. They would have turned their back on me if I did not do it first. I know it. I know it.

You know nothing.

Morgana gasped and shook her head, pressing her hands to her ears. "Stop," she cried. "I was not wrong!"

You were wrong, Morgana. Now that Merlin has revealed who he really is, magic will be accepted. You will not see the day your people are accepted in this world, no longer hunted down like animals.

"Stop this!" Morgana begged, squeezing her eyes shut and ducking her head. She was losing her mind. Her own voice in her head was contradicting her, like it had been silenced all this time. "Let me die! Just let me die! I don't want this anymore!"

Thankfully, the voice in her head stopped. A sob escaped her lips and her hands dropped at her side, her body still bent forward. "Let me die," she whispered, closing her eyes, "I have nothing left here."

No destiny. No reason to live. Nothing. Yet her heart continued to beat.

Could there be something left in this world that needs me to stay alive?

A/N: Hello, hello! This isn't my first fanfic ever, just the first one on this account. I left the fanfiction world months ago, thinking I would give it up. But here I am once again! I suppose it's a creative outlet I simply can't let go. It's my way of keeping Merlin alive, though it's been over for quite a while now (and a small part of me believes that Mergana exists- or existed). Your feedback is greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!