Right, so... I think it's safe to say that that ending of Merlin was like... not cool, you know? And so I find myself (after re-watching the series) coming to FanFiction with my own version of the story and its awesome characters. This is a Morgana-centric story, for all those Morgana lovers out there ;) And that's me included... I would also like to mention that this story will also feature a broken Morgana, as it is her redemption story, but with a slight twist, of course.
Anyway, this story is set a few months after season 4. I always wondered, 'what if Aithusa healing Morgana had certain consequences?' Hope you guys enjoy it and let me know what you think!
My heartbeat drums wildly in my ears. My chest burns with each desperate breath I take. I catapult myself over a fallen tree and nearly stumble over my dress.
Goddam attire, I grumble inwardly.
An arrow slices my shoulder as it whizzes through the air. I shoot a scowl over my shoulder at the heavily armoured bandits.
Goddam bandits! When I get my hands on that fat bastard, I swear I'll make him-
A bandit crashes through the forest brush ahead of me, cutting off my internal grumbling. The bandit raises his broadsword at me, face pulled into a menacing scowl. I skid to a halt, throwing my arm out in instinct. I watch with barely contained glee as the bandit flies through the air, a girlish scream ripped from his throat. I only tear my gaze away when the man crumples to the ground in a lifeless heap.
And that's all it takes for the bandits to catch up with me. Thudding footsteps, angered screaming. I spin around to the sight of another bandit, sword already in full swing. I duck under the blow and snap my hand towards his throat. I squeeze my fingers around the fragile bones and smirk at the utter look of horror plastered across the brute's face. "Acwelan," I mutter. The bandit's eyes glaze over with instant death. Snarling, I snatch the sword from the bandit's slack grip. I lift the weapon, ready to face my next attacker… and come to a complete stop. My mind seems to catch up with my actions, my heavy breathing turning into hyperventilation. Guilt clutches at my heart, squeezing in a vice-like grip. My gaze swims with unbidden tears and I stumble backwards.
What the hell is wrong with me?
In my haze of confusion, the remaining bandits form a tight circle around me. With massive effort, I manage to shake myself free of the sudden, crushing guilt. I flick my gaze from bandit to bandit. They watch me carefully, hands trembling where they hold their swords. I force my trembling lips into a leisurely smirk as I flick my sword around my wrist. "So, who's next?" When no one falls for the bait, I shrug.
No matter, they will all die here either way…
In the blink of an eye, I shoot my hand out, splay my fingers apart. Their swords slip from their hands, like taking a toy from a child. The weapons flip around mid-air, sword tips pointing at their respective owners. One incantation and their lives will be cut short…
A nagging feeling in the back of my mind stops me short. It claws at my conscience, a feral thing fighting to let loose. My arm trembles, the sword points dipping. The bandits watch me with confusion as they take several steps back. Now, Morgana! I force my arm higher, my mouth parting to form the incantation.
No, stop! This isn't me… this isn't me!
A sharp twang echoes through the forest. From the corner of my gaze, I notice the archer too late. An arrow thuds into the soft flesh of my upper thigh. I drop to one knee, my own scream piercing my ears. The swords thud to the forest floor as I clutch at my injured leg.
"Get her!" a bandit shouts. It takes but a split second for my training to kick in. With one swift movement, I break the arrow shaft, careful to keep the arrowhead in place and jump to my feet, meeting my first attacker with my sword held high. Steel clashes against steel. Grunting, I push back. I spin around, my sword arm following. The sword point slices cleanly through the bandit's throat, blood spraying the side of my face. Another bandit takes a jab at my injured leg. I bring my sword down to parry his blow. With too much effort and a pained groan, I send my boot into the bandit's chest. He staggers backwards, granting me just enough time to parry the next blow to my side.
Swing…parry…slice. Another bandit falls, clutching at his severed arm, mouth wide in a pained shriek.
I sink the end of my sword into the next bandit's stomach, gritting my teeth against the pain in my leg. With my boot placed firmly against the bandit's chest, I push him off my sword, like pulling meat off a skewer. I swing into my next attack, sword grasped tightly with both hands. With massive effort, I send my sword slicing through the air and into a bandit's head, the blade hitting home with a crunching thud. I pull on the hilt, but the weapon remains firmly intact with the bandit's skull. Grunting, I shove the bandit away and turn to face the remaining bandits.
… Too late.
A bandit, this one different with his night-black, leather chest-plate and forest green undercoat, drives a barbed sword deep into my belly. His eyes, almost as black as his chest guard, dances with malice, his upper lip twitching to reveal rotting teeth. I open my mouth in a silent scream, my thoughts spiralling to a sudden halt. My surroundings disappear, until nothing but blinding pain becomes the master of my world.
The bandit leans in close, his putrid breath fanning over my face. "You were really beginning to test my nerves, witch," he hisses. Without warning, he rips his sword from my stomach. And finally, the sound ripped from my throat, is almost inhuman. I feel myself tip backwards, falling to the forest floor in what feels like slow motion. A memory flashes to the forefront of my mind. Suddenly, I'm not surrounded by bandits and I'm not in a forest.
The sound of unbridled joy fills the air. The world around me spins until I fall onto my back, clutching at my stomach in a fit of giggles. A younger Arthur looms over me, his blonde hair shining like a golden halo in the afternoon sunlight.
"The Mighty Morgana has been defeated once more!" he shouts theatrically to the heavens. "And this time, I escape with my life intact!"
I roll my eyes. "Only just barely," I remind him through another fit of giggles. Arthur ignores my comment and drops the point of his wooden sword to my throat.
"Do you yield, Morgana?"
I lift my hands in mock fright. "Yes, I yield. Please, spare my life, oh great King Arthur!"
Arthur reaches a hand out to me, his sea-blue eyes glinting with child-like joy.
"Always and forever."
A smile pulls at my lips as the memory washes away. The forest and the bandits come back to me with sharp clarity. The bandit looming over me lowers himself into a kneeling position, a dark smirk pulling at his lips. "Pretty soon, there won't be much for you to smile about, sweetheart."
In one fell swoop, he smashes the hilt of his sword into my head.
And all too willingly, I fall into the blissful darkness.
To be continued...