TW: The following chapter will discuss death, injury, mental illness, and some other triggering topics. If you are likely to be negatively impacted by discussions of any of those topics, please skip this chapter and prioritize your mental health.

"No one wants to be sad during bad weather."

Since Morgana had gotten back, she'd been struggling. Really, she'd been struggling since she tried returning to Camelot. Obviously, going back to how things were wasn't an option. She'd done things that were unforgivable and certainly unforgettable. To even be allowed a second chance was unthinkable, and yet it had happened. She had even been optimistic that she could try and make up in part for some of her wrongs.

But then the ban on magic was lifted.

Immediately, all eyes were towards her. People were hiding their children from her, scattering when she walked down a street. Of course they were afraid. Her magic had only ever brought them despair. But how could they act like they were the only ones ever in danger?

"Here, this will make you feel better! It always helps me when I'm sad."

The sheer number of sorcerers, of children born with magic who had been killed during and after the Great Purge was painful to even imagine. When she first discovered the extent of Uther's wrongs, this was all the justification she needed to fight violence with violence. To kill innocent people in Camelot when they got in the way of the revenge she sought to exact on Uther and those that stood with him. She knew now that in doing so she fell to Uther's level, a thought that plagued her nearly as much as the weight of the lives all the people she killed on her conscience. To become like him was to become a monster, and she had certainly done so. She couldn't escape her anger, however - the lingering anger that it was all in vain, that even though she accepted that her means to enact change was awful that the reason she sought that change had not been fixed.

"Just focus - take a deep breath in. Think of the sun, and it will come."

She thought of her friends who had been killed.

"Even if you don't quite yet, I believe in you! You can do anything!"

She thought of Lyra.

As she stood in front of Lyra's grave, a small stone surrounded by wildflowers enchanted to never wilt even in the harshest of winters, she felt the same anger she had felt when she first discovered who she was. When she first learned that Uther would kill her if he ever knew who she was, because even the people closest to him were like animals if they had magic. When she watched Merlin cry at the grave of the woman he loved. An anger fueled by a desire for a justice that seemed unattainable.

"Who were they?"

She heard Arthur walk behind her, leaving some room so as not to impose on her space. She didn't look back at him, only at the grave. At Lyra.

"A friend."

He didn't respond for a moment. "Would you tell me about them?"

She thought about all she knew about Lyra. About all she knew about that wonderful person she was. That she could have been.

"Lyra was an elf. A beautiful soul. She looked human, but like she was a human blessed by the Gods themselves. She had magic - magic she was born with, that she controlled gracefully and with a mastery that could only come from an elf. Her favorite spells involved weather. She loved how volatile it could be, and yet simultaneously peaceful. She told me that whenever she was sad, she would conjure up the perfect weather: sunny and perfectly mid-temperature. She would have the trees around her bloom in colorful blossoms that scattered petals when a gust of wind pulled them off their branches. She said that it almost always managed to cheer her up.

"She was around sixteen years old when the residents of the town nearby her caught on to this. When their crops became dry they would be kind to her so that she wouldn't keep the town sunny. When they wanted sun, though, they would insult her, trip her, throw things and bully her into changing the weather. Parents told their children that it was fine, because she was just a 'dirty old elf' and didn't deserve respect like humans did.

"When Uther's men found her, she was sold out by the townspeople almost immediately. I remember the day she was executed was the most pleasant weather Camelot had ever seen. The entire town was covered in cherry blossom petals for nearly a week. I remember hearing her cry, and as she cried wildflowers sprouted around her. Uther was so outraged he demanded that every tree she enchanted be cut down and burned.

"I didn't have a body to bury, so I picked all the wildflowers I could that she had grown and planted them here. Then I buried some of the petals. I like to imagine she's there, with her flowers."

There was silence for a while. Morgana sat down in front of her grave and Arthur went to sit next to her after a few moments.

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll never do magic again, I'm sorry, I'm-"

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

A/N: Hey guys! So I know this chapter is pretty short (sorry about that) but I'm going to start uploading more chapters to this story now and they will hopefully be much longer. It's been a while since I've really done anything with this story for a few reasons, but I'm hoping to start to develop the next "season" of this story now. Let me know if there's anything you want to see more or less of in the coming chapters via review and thank you as always for reading!