Chapter 21: It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To

There were few days of the year Morgana enjoyed more than her birthday. As of late, there were few days she enjoyed at all. But on her birthday those around her needed little coaxing to bend to her desires. The day even felt… normal. Perhaps she'd take the day to break from her goal and enjoy herself.

The tiny ache in her heart, however constant, made an unwelcome appearance as she checked her reflection. She couldn't help but think that even when she smiled, she looked sad. The person in the mirror seemed more the little girl who just lost her father than … whatever she was now. Most of her days were occupied with anger or resentment.

Perhaps she'd go for a ride and just be by herself. The weather was beautiful and it was her day, after all.

Being careful not to travel too far, Morgana was actually having a pleasant day. The fresh air was doing wonders for her mind. She felt lighter. Carefree. The reason Morgana loved riding so much was she could simply be with herself. No duties, no plots, no obligation. Before she knew it, she ended up there.

Had it really been years since their first encounter? It seemed a lifetime ago.

The frivolous part of Morgana that was just dumb and in love wondered if he'd left anything for nearby. Certainly he knew when her birthday was and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't hopeful. Of course, a quick search turned up nothing. Why should she have expected him to leave anything hidden around their spot. He was banished and it's not as though she expected him to risk his life for something as silly as her birthday, did she?

Morgana could see some men taking a rest across the water and a short way up stream. For a moment, she let herself believe Gwaine could be one of them. Maybe he'd found some friends who could keep him alive until he came back to her. But the reveal of their faces proved otherwise and despite the knowledge he was long gone, her heart sank a little bit.

Believe it or not, Morgana did wrestle with her own stubbornness on rare occasion. She opted to sit on the grass close to the stream. Sitting on the rock, their rock, seemed too intimate. It felt wrong. Ever a woman of her own convictions, she really did believe him leaving again was for the best. However, it didn't stop her heart swelling with guilt. When Gwaine was away she tended to only focus on the bad. Even though he was in Camelot for only a short time, they had beautiful moments together. But Morgana punished herself. Instead of daydreaming about his stolen kisses, she forced herself to remember how hurt he looked and how it was her fault. How he offered her the world and she crushed his dream into ash.

Because she was stubborn. Never good at compromise. Maybe he deserved someone as wild and spontaneous and romantic as himself but, as long as he loved her back, Morgana was certainly too selfish to let him go.

Which brought her right back to that rock. That damned rock. How unlucky that something so common and meaningless should be the keeper of her secrets, of their secrets. And yet lucky all the same that it could never tell another living soul.

Perhaps she needed to remind herself that power healed all.

The woods seemed colder now that she knew there was no possibility of a chance meeting. And so, taking her horse out alone was having unexpected consequences. Every so often, the voice in her head would say, "Run. Just take off and never look back." The roads looked so tempting with nothing but trees and sunlight in the distance. A laughable idea, really. Abandon everything she'd worked for, planned for, in the last year? Suffer yet another massive search party? Still… she'd be lying to herself if she completely scoffed at the notion. Morgana would only admit it to the pitch black of night but she relived Gwaine leaving every time she looked out her bedroom window. Sometimes, if she felt incredibly lonely, she considered following him.

Never mind that, she thought and pushed last night (and all the other late nights) from her mind. The very same thing that stopped her taking Gwaine's hand and never letting go was stopping her from taking off into the forest. She was afraid.

Fear is dangerous. It's unpredictable and manifests itself in ways one could not possibly dream up. Love is a fragile thing which needs very careful tending to; otherwise it'll be lost as easily as it was found. But anger is control right down to the motivation and execution. And if she was in control, well, everything would have to be alright in the end. Therefore, her love remained wandering and the forest path remained unexplored.

The castle buzz was enough to distract Morgana for the time being.

"You look lovely, Morgana," said Gwen, as she finished helping Morgana with the final touches of her hair. "I hope you have fun tonight. This is the happiest I've seen you in a long time."

"Thank you, Gwen. I do feel happy today."

"I'm glad."

It was the truth. She did feel happy, but happiness compared to how she must look most days was not terrible hard to achieve. Even a simple smile would do it, she thought. But nevertheless, Morgana was determined to enjoy herself! It was a celebration for her, after all, her favorite kind.

Gwen answered a knock at the door that turned out to be more birthday presents. All week, suitors and friends to Camelot alike had sent Morgana their well wishes along with more dresses than she could wear in a lifetime.

"Who's it from this time, Gwen?"

"Someone who wants your hand, no doubt."

"Unlikely, but I appreciate the attempt all the same," she replied airily.

"The note is only signed with a G. That's a bit cryptic."

Morgana's heart sped up slightly but she smiled. Stubborn man.

"Men like to act mysterious, Gwen," she said, taking the box. "They think it makes them alluring."

Gwen laughed. "I suppose you're right."

The small box was put on the table among some other gifts. Morgana was unwilling to open it with anyone else in the room despite her increasing curiosity. Unless it was meant to be opened right away… how did it get here anyway? He wasn't stupid enough to come back so soon. Or was he? No, no, surely not. But still it was the only gift she truly cared about. Maybe just a peek and she could pretend to be uninterested in front of Gwen.

"Morgana, are you ready to go?"

Gwen's voice startled her out of her thoughts. The box would have to wait.

"Let's go," she replied with a smile.

Anyone would tell you that, if nothing else, Camelot knew how to celebrate. Nobles, knights, and everyone else were joyously (and drunkenly) celebrating Morgana's birthday and if she were being honest, she was enjoying the whole event. It was nice to just be loved, even if most of the attendees didn't know her personally.

Watching everyone drink and laugh and enjoy themselves felt right. It was happy. She hadn't even faked her happiness when Uther presented her with a beautiful necklace for the occasion. It must've cost him quite a bit and she let him clasp it around her neck without hesitation. These warm moments tended to cloud her judgment when it came to her plans so she held them at arms' length. But on her birthday? Morgana felt free to indulge in the familiar.

A knight approached Morgana and placed another box in front of her.

"Happy birthday," said Arthur.

Morgana opened the little box to find a beautifully ornate dagger covered in jewels. It sparkled in the light at every angle. It was perfect. Sometimes Arthur did pay attention. A shame, she thought, that a good man like him was going to get caught up in the coming storm.

The rest of the party was the most fun Morgana had since… well, since he left. Other than declining to dance with the excuse of a dessert induced stomachache – the thought of dancing with someone else made her so incredibly melancholy and it was a party after all – the evening passed all too quickly. Maybe, on nights like this that chipped away at her anger, she was okay with letting it go just a little bit. Cliché as it sounded, if every day were her birthday she'd never lift a magic finger again.

Although, she promised herself next year Gwaine would celebrate with her.

Back in her chambers, Gwen brought in the last of the presents as Morgana sat at her dresser.

"You got some lovely presents. Mainly hairbrushes."

Morgana looked. There were quite a few hairbrushes. Clearly she should've made a list.

"Who's King Gromause?" Gwen asked, reading the note on a mirror.

"At least he doesn't think my hair needs brushing," she said and smiled. Her sister had remembered.

"It's so pretty."

With Gwaine's box still sitting on the table and now a mirror from her sister that probably contained a message, Morgana needed to get Gwen to leave. The number of things to attend to was piling up.

"Here, I want you to have this."

Morgana handed Gwen a gold embroidered cloth. Gwen truly did deserve something beautiful, anyway.

"Me?! No…"

"It's a thank you."

"Thank you," Gwen said. She bade Morgana goodnight and left her room to head home.

As soon as the door was shut again, Morgana breathed on the mirror to see a message from her sister. Sister, come to the darkling woods at midnight. Morgause. A shiver of excitement ran down Morgana's spine. A meeting was unexpected but not at all unwelcome.

There was just one thing she had to do first.

Gwaine's box sat neatly on the table where she'd left it. She read the tag again but there was nothing but a slightly sloppy G written on some parchment. She lifted the lid to find a small bouquet of flowers. They looked familiar but she couldn't remember their name. They were beautiful, she thought, and he even tied them neatly together in a bow. She found a small letter underneath the flowers and thanked any deity that would listen that no one was around to see her smiling like an idiot.

Morgana –
I told you I never forget anything. Forget-me-nots. Just in case.
Love, Gwaine
P.S – That's just a placeholder. Until you're ready for the real thing.

Forget-me-nots. Of course. Others had sent her huge bouquets of the most expensive flowers money could buy. But Gwaine, her Gwaine, was always simple and to the point. As if she spent any of her time thinking about things that weren't him! She could imagine his pleased grin as if she'd said How could I ever forget you? But a placeholder? What was he talking about?

She looked around to see if something had fallen to the floor but found nothing. Then, in the bottom of the box, she spotted a little red ring made of knotted string. A little crudely made, she had to admit, but that probably meant he made it himself.

Without hesitation, Morgana slipped the ring onto her left hand.

A placeholder.

As midnight drew near Morgana stopped reading Gwaine's letter over and over and dressed to meet Morgause. She considered leaving the ring behind to avoid any questions from her sister but taking it off felt wrong. Like she'd be betraying him even if he'd never know the ring left her hand for an hour. No, she decided, for once she would commit to him even if he wasn't around to witness it.

After putting her dagger on her hip, Morgana quietly made her way out of the castle until – CRACK. The corridor doors flung open, making Morgana stumble. She screamed as she fell backwards down the stairs. Then the world went black.

It seemed everyone had gone into a panic. Lady Morgana had been found knocked out and bleeding from the head. It was the dead of night when Arthur brought her to Gaius and he frantically did everything he could. Gwen sat by her side completely overcome with worry. After making Morgana as comfortable as possible, Gaius revealed he could cure her cuts and scrapes but she was bleeding internally. The cement staircase had cracked her skull and it was only a matter of time before Morgana succumbed to her injuries.

A black cloud hung over Camelot. Gwen had barely slept or left Morgana in anyone else's care. Arthur was inconsolable and the sparring dummy was taking the brunt of his anger. But Uther… Uther was taking it harder than anyone else. The king had barely left his chambers since Morgana's accident unless it was to pay a visit to Gaius' chambers.

Nothing seemed right, no one seemed well. It did seem that Morgana's death would cause irreparable damage.

Whispers swirled around in Morgana's mind but she couldn't make out any of the words. She tried to speak again and again but nothing happened, as though she were able to live but never allowed to make herself known. For days she drifted in and out of semi-consciousness and had trouble distinguishing between conversations she was overhearing and the vividness of her dreams.

She tried desperately to open her eyes but they felt sealed shut. They felt so heavy, so impossibly heavy, that no matter how hard she focused they would not budge. Just as well because with every passing moment she found it more difficult to concentrate, or to do anything. Like she was drifting in and out of herself…

Morgana checked herself in the mirror one last time to be sure she was satisfied.

Songbirds sang gently outside the window as sunlight trickled in between the curtains. The vase next to the bed was stuffed nearly beyond capacity with beautiful flowers. She told him they could get another vase but he insisted all the flowers were part of one bouquet and maybe next time he'd bring her two bouquets if she wanted two bouquets or four bouquets or twenty bouquets.

The familiar echo of the busy town below was comforting to Morgana, but baffling all the same that Gwaine could sleep through it. She'd given his servant the morning off, citing he needed rest. That was somewhere between the truth and a lie but the Queen can do as she pleases (at least where her husband's sleeping schedule was concerned). The truth was that Gwaine could be handsy and she fancied a morning to herself without pulling his hands off of her, a task that became more difficult to reason with at every passing moment. But now she'd finished preparing everything she needed to do. And he was still asleep.

"How can you sleep through me running around like a mad woman?" she murmured as she brushed some hair from his eyes.

"Am I allowed to be awake now?" he asked, startling Morgana half to death.

"Why wouldn't you be allowed to be awake?"

"If you need the morning to yourself, no one comes to wake me up."

Morgana presumed she looked shocked because Gwaine chuckled.

"You think I don't wake up when you wake up?" he asked. "If a morning free of me trying my hardest to get you back to bed is what you need, then I'm happy to watch you work."

"Shameless."

"I prefer innovative, your highness."

How dreamy, she thought, that after all this time they were still able to surprise each other. In the not too distant past, this would never have seemed possible. This perfect moment. But she had been determined that if they could keep hanging on, they could have it all.

The scene seemed like a painting, so serene and lovely and free. Morgana's eyes flashed gold and the lock on the door bolted shut.

"Eventually someone is going to come looking for you," he mused. "Or worse, me."

"Perhaps. However, as far as they know you're tired. Dead exhausted. Who knows when the King will regain his strength?"

"Ah, tending to my wounds as it were?"

"If not me, then who?"

"The kingdom would fall apart without me."

"Precisely."

The moment she was about to kiss him better, someone rapped on the chamber door. Morgana had an exceedingly long list of royal duties, not the least of which were her morning meetings.

"Duty calls, my love," he said and rolled out of bed. "Off you go."

"Very well," she sighed.

"I love you," he called after her.

She blew him a kiss as she walked out the door.

Outside the door was nothing. The once vivid vision of her chambers melted away into a cloudy lack of tangibility that was neither dark nor light but surrounded once again by murmurs. Everything was blurry and nonexistent, save for a soft glow in the distance. Or perhaps right in front of her, it was difficult to tell. Before she could decide to move towards it she lost consciousness yet again.

Uther looked on Morgana's weakened body with the utmost concern. Since she was a child, Morgana had such a commanding presence. But there, in bed with the color drained from her face and lungs gasping for breath, she looked so small.

"I cannot watch her die, Gaius."

"I wish there was something I could do."

"No. You don't understand. I cannot lose her," Uther insisted. "No matter what happens, she cannot die."

"I will do everything I can, sire, but…"

"No, Gaius. Whatever it takes, whatever. I don't care. You must save her."

It was faint, almost unreachable, but Morgana was hearing Uther's voice. He was right next to her and so very far away at the same time.

"There's something you should know. Something I've told no one. Morgana is my daughter. It was whilst Gorlois was away fighting in the Northern Plains. Her mother… Vivian… grew lonely."

Morgana tried to scream but remained choked by whatever world she was trapped in. The words "my daughter" surrounded her, taunting her. Morgana Pendragon Morgana Pendragon Morgana Pendragon. She had a claim to the throne, she could be queen. The news exhausted her mind, already working above and beyond to stay alive. The blackness appeared once more and she succumbed to it easily.

Morgana finally had him where she wanted him. Where he deserved to be: on his knees at her mercy. Everything had finally come to fruition. Had she truly loved him once or was he simply a distraction on her way to the throne? No, she couldn't think about that now.

"Tell me where the king is."

He looked up at her. His eyes were different, she thought, wounded and distressed.

"I'd rather die."

The defiance was sickening. He never gave in, never accepted that she knew best. However, she expected this. They'd always had their share of quarrelling, where would be the fun in his compliance now?

"And you shall have your wish once you've told me. Not even you, Sir Knight, can resist the charms of the Nathair."

Morgana relished in his fear as she opened the delicate little box. The snake hissed viciously and watching him flinch was a pleasure in itself. The chase was finally over. Yes, maybe she loved him once, and she could even remember a time when she thought he loved her. But betrayals aren't easily forgotten and now would be his time to pay.

"Turn from this," he muttered.

"What?"

"Turn from this."

"You would have me run for the rest of my life like an animal," she spat.

"I would have you do what you should have done a long time ago. When there was a chance for forgiveness."

The more he spoke, the angrier she became. The mere suggestion that she would relent was unthinkable. He always wanted her to step down, to go running and plead for forgiveness like a child throwing a tantrum. The time came to choose sides and he tossed her out and his death would be the beginning of her peace, his death and the throne, the throne, the throne –

"Forgiveness is not what I crave. The throne is mine and I shall have it! I'm going to ask one more time. Where is the King?"

"What will you do as Queen? Will you force your people to love you with death as their alternative?"

"Where is he?"

"Give the word, I've said all I can. Camelot will never be yours."

Wrong, he was wrong, Camelot was rightfully hers and she'd have it. The more her rage swelled, the more the forest around her became engulfed in mist and surrounded the pair of them.

"WHERE IS HE?" she screamed and it echoed all around her.

"You're going to lose. And I'm sorry."

Morgana commanded the Nathair to attack. Gwaine's shriek of pain was sharp and quick as his body fell limply to the ground. As the forest swallowed his scream, Morgana's heart started to pound harder and harder. The thumping crawled its way up her chest and settled in the back of her head, getting louder and louder –

The forest dissipated, just as her bedchamber had, into nothingness. Only the pounding didn't stop. It was different this time. Gwaine screaming echoed over and over again, getting closer and closer, but Morgana couldn't escape it. Try as she might, she couldn't run or cover her ears as the sound of Gwaine dying at her command continued to torment her.

Suddenly, Morgana was very aware of her own breathing. Catching her breath was becoming too difficult a feat and something was ebbing at her to just accept that she was drowning. Darker, darker, darker…

Morgana opened her eyes, desperately trying to take in her surroundings. Her breathing and heartbeat were still irregular, but slowly returning to normal.