Hey guys! I'm back! I know I kinda keep disappearing on you, but I think I'm officially back now! My summer has FINALLY slowed down! I'll give you a heads up in advance if I'm going to mysteriously disappear off the face of the FanFiction planet again.
This one-shot is based off of "Alabama" by 10 Years. The narrator of this story can either be seen in Merlin's point of view or just an all knowing narrator. Or maybe somebody else in the crowd knows what Morgana's up to. Like a random guard. It's however you want to see it, really. Set during Season 3 (By the way, I am SO pumped for Season 4. –squeals-)
I've tried to make this very symbolic, so tell me what you think by leaving a review!
Oh I know your kind.
You would kill your kin for the right price.
Oil and water are thicker than blood.
Oh I know your type.
Smile. Smirk. Fake laugh. Smirk. That's what your day mostly consists of, doesn't it Morgana? Pressing your dark red lips to your jeweled goblet full of crimson wine, you stare, no, glare at Uther with the deepest hatred anyone could ever imagine.
While watching you take sip, I see your face light up and your eyes dance as you continue to stare at Uther and his potent throne. It's obvious that you're imagining yourself on that very same purple padded cushion, staring down at your shocked and betrayed father with hard eyes.
I guess the saying "blood is thicker than water" doesn't apply here. Instead of siding with the family that you've grown up with, you make an alliance with an outsider. That, and your greed for wealth and power, dominates any love you could feel for your brother and father.
Use us to get what you wanted.
You can't even finish what you started.
I find it kind of funny how you try to rectify the damage.
As your ivory hand draws the goblet away from your mouth, I watch as you turn to Arthur with an innocent face.
"Planning a hunting trip this weekend, Arthur?" Your sing song voice questions.
"Don't you think the weather's a little, I don't know, harsh for that kind of sport?" He replies glancing out the window. Large flakes of snow and icicles bang against the window.
A teasing laugh erupts from your deceitful throat, "Since when has the weather stopped you, the Prince of Camelot? Really Arthur, I didn't know you were such a girl."
Your face turns away from him as you sink in your chair, waiting for your prideful brother to take the bait.
And he does, just like you knew he would.
"I can promise you, Morgana, that in two days from now we will be feasting on a rather large stag, isn't that right, Merlin?"
Before a reply can be made, the door to the hall is slammed open to reveal a bright red cape.
You're lying to yourself.
And to everyone that knows your name.
You play the part of the fool so well.
Oh I know your type.
The King of Camelot rises quickly, his eyes flickering on the figure in front of him. The man, with his ruffled hair, wounds, the last of melting snow turning into water, and a few twigs make him look like he's been dragged through a bush backwards.
"Sir Ardwin, what happened?" he demands.
The knight makes a swift bow, "My patrolling party- we were attacked. These men were to powerful to be regular bandits…and they used…magic."
Alarms went off in Uther's head as his color changed from the paleness of shock to the red of anger, "Sir Leon, gather your men," he commands, looking at his second best knight, "Search the forest for these outlaws. I have said it before, and I will not say it again. I do not condone the use of sorcery. Everyone should know this."
He turns to you, smiling fondly, and clasps your hands, "Morgana here understands exactly why. She spent a year in captivity, seeing firsthand how wicked these people really are."
You swallow hard and force a bright smile, "You are protecting us from a great evil. Thank you, my lord."
Liar.
Sir Leon leaves with a few of his guards, and Arthur stands up to follow them.
"Sit back down, Arthur." Uther orders as he sinks into his chair.
"But father-" The prince protests.
"No, Arthur. You can go on a witch hunt some other time. Right now nothing will stop us," He glances at you with soft eyes, "all of us, from having a nice banquet together."
You and I both repress the urge to empty our stomachs.
Your failure to find compromise.
The walls are coming down.
Will you survive sacrifice or tumble to the ground?
"Your father's right, Arthur," you say as you turn your head to him. In this swift movement, your dark waves fall off of your neck, exposing your pale neck, surrounded by your black necklace, to the whole room, "Besides, you'll have enough fun this weekend on your hunting trip. I'm sure it will be a trip you will never forget."
That last comment makes me want to throttle your ivory neck. Can't you just leave things alone, go back to your sister, and leave Camelot in peace? Wouldn't that just makes things easier for everyone?
Uther glances at you, "Morgana, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think that what you just said may have sounded a little threatening."
Loosing our touch, are we, Morgana?
The fear is evident on your face. Unfortunately this perfect moment is ruined when Uther begins to laugh. You laugh with him, first of relief, and then it turns fake. Again. Arthur joins in.
Too bad. I thought we had you there. I guess not. But one day, your little game will come to an end. Your web of lives will unravel completely. The only question is, what will happen when that day comes? Will you come out victorious or receive the fate you deserve?
Oh I know your type.