Author: ILoveThesePeople
Word Count: 1,082
Rating: T
Genre: Angst/Tragedy
Pairings: Mentions One-sided Merlin/Morgana, and Lancelot/Gwen/Arthur.
Warnings: Mentions reincarnation, death, murder, love triangles, general angst, and possible confusing monologue.
Summary: She wasn't mourned because she had ruined them, would always try to ruin them. Because no matter how they begged her, all she could see were her forgotten memories when she was one of them. Of the love that was never told because it didn't exist, not to anyone except her.
A/N: I'm not very happy with this. I wanted it more centered around the one-sided M/M, but then all this other depressing thoughts that Morgana could have drowned out the original plot. Then I started getting drowsy and I think I used the word "Because" half a billion times and used very simple words where there could be more detail. I might come through and change this later on, depends on the feedback. So please review!
They were the golden ones, perfect and loved even after their kingdom had long since fallen. They were sheathed in light even after all they had been through- All she had put them through. The shadows of her world hovering over them, but never fully reaching. The blood on her hands never painting their skin like hers, was never seen on them. They had all killed, all been so close to falling over the edge, had fallen over the edge yet always being saved. She was never saved.
King Uther, mad with grief and rage, was feared and hated, yet never despised. The blood on his hands, thick and crimson red, was forgiven as the crown on his head shined bright. He had killed, maimed, despised, yet was never evil. For he was saved time and time again by the memory of a golden haired queen and the face of a son he could never truly admit to loving. As he laid on his deathbed he was mourned and missed, the death of her kin forgotten.
King Arthur, loved and longed for, radiated power. He smelled of death and blood even as he smiled kindly to his people. He killed in war, killed in anger, killed with pride, yet was always and always would be revered for his good deeds. He danced on the edge for so long, the darkness calling out to him in seductive ways. Yet with a look from his manservant- Beloved Warlock- and the smile of his queen he was always pulled back. How close he was to the darkness was forgotten in feasts and festivals, never to be mentioned again.
Queen Guinevere, committed with treason yet always missed. Pulled from rags to be bathed in gold, respected and loved instead of ignored. Her skin smelt of sex and sin, eyes dark as they met Lancelot's, smile thin as she saw her King. Even as she was strapped to a stake she was forgiven, even as she escaped on a horse with her Knight she was loved. They let her go despite her crimes and she was forcibly pulled from the edge. Even now they talk about her treason, but instead of venom filled words she hears Forbidden Love.
Court Sorcerer Merlin, falling and falling again yet always pulled back. So many deaths were caused by him, his body stained permanently with blood, magic, and poison. Time and time again though he was reminded of a white haired man, long since passed, and his sins fell away. Always reminded of a druid girl with a broken heart and a King waiting for his friend to return and the gold bled away from his eyes. He was saved by everyone, saved everyone, everyone except her. Sometimes she wonders if he knows that he had ruined the only person who could ever love him for eternity. Then he smiles so widely she knows he can't care- shouldn't care because he could have never done the same for her.
She was Morgana, Le Fay, Morgan, so many names never truly hers. She was the one who not only fell off the edge, but danced among the shattered rocks at the bottom until her feet were forever stained in her blood. She never tried to climb away, never tried to wash away the blood on her hands. Because all she could see were the loved ones, the ones who called to her from above. Prayed for her to return. And all she could see was the handmaiden who ignored her gift, the prince who ignored her worth, and the servant who ignored her love and poisoned cries. Why return to that land when there was a druid boy who needed her, a sister who cherished her, and people just as ignored as her? Why return to the light when all she had ever been there was a ward, a Lady of noble blood. Never someone to respect, but instead to lust after and talk down to.
That's why she was never remembered as the fallen Lady, never recalled as the mourned and sympathized sorceress. Because they all had their happy endings, laughter carried in the wind to this day. They were all locked away, called upon again and again for the Earth's use. Yet they always had each other to lean upon, to cry to, and to mourn with. And she and Merlin stayed above, waiting for the day they arose again. Waiting for the day she could try to ruin them again and he could stop her. She wasn't mourned because she had ruined them, would always try to ruin them. Because no matter how they begged her, all she could see were her forgotten memories when she was one of them. Of the love that was never told because it didn't exist, not to anyone except her.
The fact was always the same. She was never mourned or sympathized with because she didn't kill with insanity, didn't kill with hate, she killed with spite. Because all she could taste was poison and all she could see were tear filled eyes and shinning, brilliant, utterly fake smiles she wished she could have claimed as her own. And in some ways she was glad they portrayed her as the eternally devilish sorceress, because she didn't want a happy ending in their stories. Didn't want fake legends that granted her love and happiness. She never could want that, not anymore, because her only happy ending had died long ago. Before poison tainted her, before hate filled days. Her happy ending had died when he had turned away, when he wordlessly stated that he could never feel the same.
Why would she want a happy ending, if he could never be truthfully in it? So no, she stayed in the darkness, forever looking up towards his light yet never reaching towards. For she knew the burn of it, of his love for all and how his smile could stretch so wide you were sure it was what powered the sun. Knew how she could be swept away and knew that if she tried she would be plummeted right back to the edge. She would never fit into their story, not even if she tried. She never wanted to be mourned, to be sympathized with in legends and stories, to be given her happy ending because the only way she could be granted it was pretending.
The only way to receive it was dying inside.