AN: This takes place sometime in season 4 and is AU of course.

-MM-

Camelot is burning again, dark clouds forming above the pristine white walls – a consequence of a storm of a different kind. Two people stand in the middle of the ruined quarters; two people whose destinies were defined from the first day Merlin came to Camelot and witnessed the execution of a man whose only guilt was using magic. Their posture doesn't give away anything but in the eyes are reflected the years lost, a friendship ruined and the loss unspoken of (on both sides).

On that day they both watched, wide eyed and with pained looks on their faces what Uther Pendragon would do to people with magic and it has left a trail so deep no time could erase. Even so, one chose to rise above it while the other chose a path that would eventually lead to the destruction of such scale not even she could have imagined. It was then that their paths started to diverge before they even got a chance to meet at all - they just didn't know it yet.

And today was just another, in a long line of days when Morgana tried to take what she considered to be rightfully hers – the right to the throne of Camelot. To the young man with raven hair those days were slowly melding together as he has grown tired and weary of trying to do the exact opposite – stop her from executing her plans and maybe even save her if he could only find a way.

Right now, if he was being honest with himself, as he stood in front of Morgana, he wasn't trying all that hard to recall any of those things he was supposed to do because his brain was busy doing something entirely useless and stupid, as per usual. As he watched this stranger in front of him, this woman that had nothing in common with the one he used to know, nothing but the name, he tried to convince himself he remembered nothing.

He didn't remember every single day they went together in the battle to help Arthur, or the hours spent talking with her in her chambers at night. He certainly did not remember the day she came to help him save his village because he has helped her with Mordred or how frantically he and Arthur searched for her when she first went missing.

No, nowadays when he saw her all he remembered was that day she kidnapped him and tied him up in her secret hideout in the forest or those green eyes filled with infinite hate when they met the familiar blue ones or that day they fought in the forest or on these same grounds.

It's a hollow feeling, that.

Like someone ripped your heart out and you didn't even notice, so you pretend everything is alright but it's not. It makes you want to scream until you lose your voice but what scares you is that it still wouldn't matter, that it wouldn't change a damn thing.

She'd still be lost and he'd still run himself into the ground trying to find another way.

He tried, once to think of the last time he saw her smile and failed miserably. It was that long ago. He feared it has been almost as long since he smiled too - wholeheartedly at least. There were those fake half smiles that were a habit by now, a part of a job of a servant (What can I get you, my Lord? Do you need anything m'lady?).

No one smiled much anymore, the gravity of the situation weighing in on everyone – they have all lost so much. Everyone grieved even as they went on with their everyday lives, you could see it in their eyes – the missing piece. To some it was a brother, a father, a knight. To him, it was a friend.

On the good days, he felt selfish and guilty for mourning, for trying to equal his anguish with the one of others because it wasn't the same – she was still alive and well, somewhere. On the bad days, he almost wished she wasn't because it would surely hurt less. When she wasn't here, he could convince himself she has died and find comfort in that. Peace.

It was wrong and awful to think that but it was the truth.

All he felt now when he saw her was sadness and loss, greater even when she was standing right there, in front of him. Every word she spoke was like another nail to the coffin of the old Morgana, the one he cared for, the one he missed. Her eyes were now only a reminder of another friend lost and he had to struggle hard to remember how they were once, so soft, warm and more willing to trust.

She kept talking about justice and Camelot, it was all she cared about these days it seemed and all he wanted was for her to just shut up, be quiet so he could pretend nothing has changed and she was still his friend, the one willing to risk her own life to save a village full of people she never even met.

In few easy steps he walked up to her and slowly pressed a finger to her lips, closed his eyes and whispered softly "Shhh."

Merlin knew that she saw the unmistakable gleam of golden color in his eyes but he didn't care. They were the only two people in the room, everyone else being engaged with the war raging in the hallways and the front yard to pay attention to them. It didn't matter either way, he had to do this - he couldn't bear to let her break his heart any further, turn every good memory he had into dust with her venomous words and hateful eyes.

She watched him, eyes wide, too green, with just a hint of yellow (he hated it then even as it was reflected in his own eyes). Morgana reached for him with her hand but he stopped her easily, grabbing her hand with his and they stood like that, unmoving as Camelot burned around them.

"I believe it's my turn to speak- Morgana," he said, stepping away, letting go of her arm as her eyes continued to follow him. "I'm not- I'm sorry for that," he said, as she tried to say something but no words came out. "I didn't mean to but I just couldn't bear it anymore," he added with a sigh and honestly wondered, with earnest eyes "How can you?"

She did not reply, clearly still shocked by his actions.

"I'm just so tired and I-" I miss you. He couldn't even say it. Not to this Morgana.

"I don't believe I ever mentioned this- but the first time I saw you, it wasn't at the feast that evening. Hours before that Gaius sent me to get you the medicine for your nightmares and I came to your room just as you were getting ready. You wore that deep rich blue dress-" he paused "I thought you were the most beautiful women I ever saw," he laughed then, but it was that bitter laugh. "And it wasn't because of the way you looked, though of course your beauty was undeniable, but the way you laughed- so carefree and flirty, yes, that made me think-" he let out a breath, lost in a memory. "How naive I've been then."

"Well we've both come a long way since then," she spoke, bitterness evident in every syllable "You certainly weren't naive enough to think I could survive after drinking that poison."

Appointing blame was what they were good at. It distracted from all the painful things they didn't want to deal with (evil witches couldn't afford to miss poor, kindhearted servants just as good sorcerers couldn't possibly care for kings evil wards).

"I already told you I had no choice. Everyone in Camelot would have died if I didn't-" he stopped just as his voice began to rise and took a calming breath.

"And you lied to me about-" she interrupted him, practically yelling now, her magic reacting with her anger, ready to burst out as he stepped closer, laying a hand on her shoulder slowly and for some reason she could feel the calm wash over her. "-magic."

"I wanted to tell you so many times-" he said, the exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Tell me what?" she asked, wanting him to say it.

"Tell you that-"

"You're Emrys," she finished for him.

"Yes- and I am sorry. I'm honestly sorry I haven't told you sooner. Much, much sooner. Then I could have- I could have saved you." It's the one thing he'll always regret and feel guilty about no matter what Gaius or anyone else says.

She laughed at that. "It's too late for apologies now Merlin."

"I know. So where does that leave us? You want to tell Arthur the truth, see me hang?"

For once she was at the loss for words. She never saw him like this, so lost, so- defeated.

He sighed. "You probably will tell him and so that leaves me no choice but to-" he swallowed hard, unable to finish but she understood. They both did.

She realized something then, he could see it in her eyes so her next question didn't come as much of a surprise to him. "Why didn't you kill me then, in the forest?"

Merlin thought of that day, of that brief moment she thought she was going to die, the resigned look in her eyes as he held up his hand above her and something else - relief that maybe it will all be over soon.

"I couldn't do it. Is that what you wanted to hear?" he asked, his voice breaking a little, angry tears threatening to fall but he refused to let her see. He couldn't be weak, couldn't be Merlin right now. Not when she was standing there.

They were both wearing masks here, she was this new Morgana, the witch with visions of the future and he was Emrys, the greatest warlock that ever lived. So he focused on that and purposely ignored everything he was as she has done so well for years now.

"Damn it Merlin, you could have done it!" Why didn't he do what he was destined to when opportunity presented itself, she wondered. The one they call Emrys will walk in your shadow. He is your destiny. And he is your doom. "So why didn't you-" her own voice broke as she grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him backwards against the wall and he let out a sharp breath as his back collided with the hard surface.

Merlin just stood there, looking at her eyes, because he could see a hint of old, fierce Morgana in there as her eyes filled with unwanted tears even as she screamed at him, demanding answers.

One of Morgana's men entered the room, interrupting them and she let him go "Mistress there has been a-"

"Victor, I believe we'll be leaving," she said, straightening out her dress and consciously choosing not to look in his direction.

"But-"

"Now," she said in a voice that left little room for discussion and then went for the door.

Merlin quickly stood in front of her, refusing to let her pass.

"We'll meet another time, Emrys," she said, her crimson colored lips pulling into a smirk.

"No," he said, his voice strong, determined but his eyes told a different story.

It's good that she called him that, unknowingly doing him a favor. Emrys could kill others that stood in his way if they left him no choice. But Merlin wasn't someone who broke other people. He was someone who broke his own heart or they did so by leaving him or dying, or fading away, disappearing before his very eyes.

Maybe they're both cowards, running away from doing what they have to – they're the opposite sides of the same coin, she's the darkness to his light, the evil to his good, they can't both exist at the same time. There was only one thing left to do.

Merlin lifted up his hand, keeping his face neutral as he took a shaky breath, but just as he was about to say a spell he knew by heart but never, ever hoped he would use, the ceiling caved in, the pieces falling all around them and just like that she was gone in the cloud of smoke and dust.

His legs gave out and he fell to the ground, drained.

-MM-

An hour later, Morgana stood on the nearby hill watching the Camelot from the distance.

She smiled, with solemn eyes and whispered "Goodbye Emrys," letting the wind carry her words to him.

He would not let her go. She saw it in his eyes. They were harder now, less forgiving, less naive. Merlin had a duty to Camelot first and foremost and he would see this to the end even if it broke him.

They both knew how that was going to end.

Three years ago she might have stopped at his words, when redemption was still a possibility, not just a long forgotten word that lost all its meaning. Then there was some good left in her, she could be turned away. Especially if he reached out to her, confessed even a fraction of what he did today.

Now it was far too late.

She was too consumed by the hatred and the fantasies of revenge that even if there was some good left in her it was buried too deep in the darkness. And once you've turned that corner there was no coming back, no place for regrets. No forgiveness, she knows. Not even from someone as kind as Merlin. Too many bridges were burned.

Even if she did turn back she would've only taken him into the darkness with her. The way he looked at her before the whole room caved in… she was the one that brought him to that point, put him in that position That wasn't who Merlin was.

He still trusted easily, loved openly, without reservations and all she ever knew of love has died with Uther and with her sister. Maybe not all…

There was still something left. Or someone.

And for that, she let Camelot be - a reminder that Morgana did have a heart after all.