A/N: Happy Holidays, ya'all!
This is the fourth fic in my Twelve Days of Christmas jamboree. It may be read as a stand-alone. If you choose to check out other parts of this series, keep in mind that none of them technically need to be read in order with the exception of days 9 and 10.
Many, many thanks to AuroraBorealia, my bestie and beta reader. Wow, in the previous Merlin fic for this series, I said I wasn't going to include another Merlin fic. I lied.
IMPORTANT NOTE: If you remember some of the lyrics of The 12 Days of Christmas (let's be real, no one remembers the last six verses), you might have thought that the lyrics for day 4 are "four calling birds," but as I have discovered, the old lyrics likely refer to colly birds, an old moniker for black birds. As you can guess, this will be a bit more on the melancholy side of Christmas fics. C'est la vie!
Tags: 12 Days of Christmas, Colly Birds, NOT Calling Birds, Friendship is Magic, Unicorn Onesie, Background Merthur.
Enjoy to your heart's content!
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...
Four colly birds,
Three French hens
Two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree
It all began when Morgana passed the grassy quad on her way to the library. She was laughing at one of Merlin's silly jokes when a colly bird glided down to the bench nearest her and perched on an iron armrest.
Its deep eyes beckoned her, two pools of pure darkness. Her laughter cut off abruptly, and for reasons she could not explain, an overwhelming sense of dread consumed her entire being. In her mind's eye, four ravens appeared, their feathers black and silky against a blood red sky.
"Oh, a raven. How pretty," Merlin remarked casually. Evidently, Morgana's harbinger of doom had no effect on his immortal smile.
In the blink of an eye, it was gone.
That night, the visions began. And every night after, they grew worse and worse. These days, she opted to blast music in her earbuds or forgo sleep altogether. All-night study sessions became her prime excuse for the insomnia.
As a second-year graduate student of sociology, the deadline of her thesis looming overhead, Morgana didn't have time to face a quarter-life crisis right now.
By October, they had gotten so bad that she essentially lived on energy drinks and coffee. Gwen was starting to worry, and Morgana could hardly hide her problems from her roommate and best friend for long.
One night, after they exchanged essays for mutual grammar proofreading-Gwen's, a review of a recent archeological survey, Morgana's, an examination of social consumerism-she felt so tired that she fell asleep the second she collapsed onto her mattress.
Before her stood Gwen, trapped in the woods and terrified… of her.
Morgana's arm extended of her own volition and Gwen plummeted to the ground. Her body glowed a shimmering gold. Then, where her best friend once stood, there stumbled a wide-eyed and dazed little doe.
When morning came, Morgana felt as though she hadn't slept a wink. She immediately checked to make sure that Gwen was alright, only to find her curled up in a ball, fast asleep underneath her pale yellow duvet. Morgana was jealous of her peaceful rest.
The moment Gwen saw her, she noticed. Call it best friend telepathy. Ever gentle, she suggested that Morgana ought to make an appointment with Gaius, the Pendragon family physician. He had tended to her, Arthur, and Mordred ever since they were babies.
She was scared of what he might think. Schizophrenia sometimes manifested at her age; she couldn't bear to think of what she would do if he diagnosed her. Her life would be over.
But these dreams… they were so vivid. So real. Just the thought of harming Gwen made her want to vomit, yet she could picture wanting to do so as though remembering a solid moment of her life.
Morgana drowned her fear and anxiety in an ocean of caffeine and continued on with her semester. To cope with the guilt, she made sure to be especially nice to Gwen, making her hot chocolate when the weather grew cold and going along with her ridiculous group costume idea for this year. Mythical creatures, honestly? She would put money on Gwaine going the comfortable (read: lazy) unicorn onesie route.
The visions had dimmed for a short while, praise the gods. She could always check in with Gaius when she had time, perhaps when she went home for Halloween weekend. Right.
She should have known things wouldn't go according to plan.
Gwen's Halloween party was coming together. After everyone chose lots, it was down to the worst two costumes. Morgana had fought with Merlin over who would have to wear the dreaded sexy vampire ensemble. When she won their game of dice, she claimed her victory and chose to dress up as a fairy instead. Easy enough to put on a pretty dress, glittery eyeshadow, and a pair of fake wings. Merlin, on the other hand, got stuck showing off a little too much chest hair. Not that Arthur was complaining.
Everything went fine until Morgana went outside to get a bit of fresh air with Arthur, who was feeling a little nauseous from an excess of pumpkin beer.
Way above them in the night sky, Morgana could have sworn she saw another colly bird. She tugged on Arthur's arm and pointed upward, but by the time he looked, it was gone.
"You're having me on. I'm not falling for your trick-" His face turned a nasty shade of green and Morgana forgot all about the raven in her haste to find Arthur a waste bin.
Until later that night, when she dreamt of screaming ghosts and Lancelot's death.
It was one thing to imagine Gwen turning into a deer; back then, Morgana could have pretended her delusions were part of her exhaustion, but this… To consider killing someone. No, she wasn't really going to hurt Lancelot-she would never! But in her dreams she had.
Once again, the possibility of schizophrenia bubbled up at the surface of her thoughts. It terrified her.
Gaius saw her early in the morning. He prescribed her with sleeping sedatives and highly recommended that she seek psychological counseling. She hugged him for a long while, hiding her tears in his worn navy blue scrubs.
She sent Lancelot an anonymous fruit basket.
November meant that it was time to get cracking down before finals. Morgana still could not make sense of her visions; they happened in no particular order, like a puzzle missing its most essential pieces.
How Morgana made it through her exams, she would never know. Packing up her belongings and heading home for winter break was a dream come true. At last, she could get some quality rest.
Ygraine and Mordred waited for her and Arthur at the airport. When Morgana embraced her adopted mother and brother, she realized just how much she had missed them. Their family may be dysfunctional, but they meant the world to her. Even Arthur and his relentless sass (and sometimes stupidity).
As she lay down in her own comfortable bed, Morgana heard a sound at the window. Her eyelids drooped heavily, but she turned ever so slightly to look.
The raven had returned. He perched on her biggest bedroom window and opened his black beak in a noiseless call. In the next moment, Morgana's mind filled with a wave of darkness, as though her consciousness was sinking down, down, down towards the bottom of the sea.
Her memories returned, one by one, hour by hour. Those missing pieces of her previous visions were filled.
She had lived that life, and yet, the person in those memories was not her. The anger, bitterness, and hatred that had once formed the basis of her very existence held no meaning to her now. Morgana was a graduate student, an aspiring teacher, not a witch… a monster.
When the morning sun woke her, she cried. She cried until her pillow was soaked through. She cried for her younger self, her misguided actions that descended into absolute madness. Most of all, she cried for the people she loved-those same people she had hurt time and time again. Some of them, she had ended.
She almost didn't go to Gwen's house the next day for their annual Christmas movie party. Ygraine fussed and gave her a Motrin tablet when she feigned a headache. She insisted that it would do Morgana some good to be with her friends.
Her friends. The people she had betrayed.
Gwen popped the HDMI cable into her laptop and searched for a decent streaming link-hopefully one without a ton of porn ads in the margins. Not exactly appropriate for a animated kids' film.
Much to Morgana's surprise, Lancelot did not seem to mind watching Frozen in the slightest. In fact, he was grinning like a child.
Morgana stared at the microwave in silence, watching each kernel of corn pop. She let the sound of it wash over her and numb her pain. The loud buzzing timer broke her reverie and she crept back into the living room with enough to feed an army. All three of her friends went at the popcorn with gusto the moment she set it on the coffee table.
She chose the corner armchair and told herself she only wanted to let Gwen sit next to Lancelot. Never mind that there was room for a fourth.
As the screen burst to life with magical snowflakes and mystical song, Morgana found she was earnestly enjoying herself for the first time in weeks. Perhaps it was because here, she could simply be Morgana, a single graduate student enjoying her winter break. In the darkness of Gwen's living room, she could truly embrace the presence of her dearest friends without having to talk to them, to face them.
To face what she did.
She tried desperately hard to ignore the familiar elements of the movie. Why couldn't they have picked a different story, without the painful reminders of royalty, magic, and torn families? As she watched dear little Elsa, afflicted by magic, emotionally abandoned by her parents, alone in her room, silent tears streamed down Morgana's cheeks. She scarcely noticed until they dripped onto her jeans. She curled her legs up to her chest and wiped them away as inconspicuously as possible.
Merlin knew almost as many of the lyrics as Gwen; they served to distract Morgana from her woes with their sing-along. They held nothing back during the popular musical numbers, nailing every harmony in the romantic(ish) duet. Morgana's eyes narrowed; something was off about this Hans character. She shrugged it off as unwarranted suspicion. What right did she have to blame the innocent prince? Besides, it looked like Elsa was shaping up to be much worse.
Shivers ran down Morgana's spine each time one of Arendelle's citizens shrunk away in fear at their young queen. Then, all air fled from her lungs. Don't do it! she wanted to scream. Don't give into it. Don't run! Elsa did not follow her advice. Instead, she sang in the cold night air and built a castle of ice on the mountainside.
Morgana didn't realize she was sobbing until Gwen and Merlin were hugging her and murmuring words of comfort in vain.
She wasn't even sure what excuses she made up to satisfy her friends before she ran back home. Thankfully, Ygraine had yet to return from her Christmas shopping and Arthur was still out with Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan. At the sight of his Ford Cortina in the car-park, Morgana prayed that Mordred wouldn't notice her return.
For a long time, Morgana sat on her knees, arms wrapped around herself. She rocked back and forth slowly, a soothing action that had been her savior during the past month.
Sniffling quietly, she wondered why so many little girls played with Frozen dolls and dressed up as Elsa. Didn't they realize she was the villain?
She ignored countless texts from her friends until Gwen threatened to come over and break down the door. Morgana made something up about baking cookies with Mordred and then immediately threw her phone on the floor.
When at last her muscles grew too stiff to let her continue sitting, Morgana stood. She approached her dresser mirror, long-since covered with a decorative scarf. Fingers trembling, she removed the veil and stared into the pool of glass.
Perhaps because they did not have as many mirrors in Camelot, she never noticed in that lifetime: her ever-changing green eyes. They were Uther's eyes.
A harsh cry wrenched itself from her throat. She cursed, hearing footsteps in the hallway. Her lack of control must have captured Mordred's attention.
"I'm-fine," she choked out, sinking to the floor. She didn't even sound like herself. Who was she kidding? Mordred wasn't stupid enough to fall for that crap.
Mordred said nothing. Instead, he rubbed her back and hummed a familiar tune. When had her brother become so strong?
That tune… where had she heard it before?
Morgana gasped and reared her head backwards. "Mordred…?" Her voice trembled violently, as did her heart. "Wh-where did you hear that?"
"You used to sing it to me," he answered softly. "Back then."
Floundering for words, Morgana's lips opened and closed in a series of silent, unformed questions.
"It is our punishment, I think." Mordred's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Merlin's doing for certain, though I'm positive he doesn't remember. He gave all of us a second chance somehow, and likely sacrificed his immortality in the process. That's my working theory, anyway," He told her softly, rubbing up and down the length of her arm to warm her.
"When!? When did you…?"
"My dreams came slowly, not like yours. Your visions were always much stronger, much clearer. Some of mine, I've had since childhood."
Morgana stared, her throat closing. "How did you not go mad?"
Mordred's hand was cool and pale, but it warmed Morgana's skin nonetheless. "I never suffered as much as you did, not until the very end. I suppose it became a part of my identity over time."
"Suffered?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "I'm not the one that… You realize that I caused all of that horror and murder. I…" Mordred squeezed her arm. "I did. I did suffer." She swallowed thickly and balled her hands into a fist. "But I used it as an excuse for my entire life. All of my decisions, everything I ever stood for was based on fear and hatred. I'm sorry-I'm so, so sorry," she sobbed.
"Shhh. Everything is going to be alright. You're okay now. In this life, you are my sister. We're all your friends, and we will stand by you forever."
Wisps of chaotic raven curls shook atop Morgana's shoulders. "They don't know; they have no idea what I've done. How could they ever forgive me?" She turned her gaze upward to stare into Mordred's haunting blue eyes. "How can you?"
"'Gana." Mordred's voice was patient, as though she were his younger sister. "That was over a thousand years ago. You have to move on. It doesn't matter what I think or what anyone else thinks. You need to forgive yourself."
Once a bastard, a witch, and a queen, now a sister, an aspiring teacher, a friend.
Time alone may never heal these wounds. Maybe she didn't deserve a second chance.
And maybe life was never about deserving the lot you are given. She could sit here and cry and waste away wondering what could have been, what she should have done differently. Or she could get back up and make something of the self that had been reborn.
This time, she wouldn't be alone. She didn't need a lover or a sister or a father. She had her brothers and her friends. For whatever reason, whether or not it be part of the gods' plans, Merlin had given her a shot at a new life.
And Morgana was going to take it, with all her heart.
I do so love a repentant Morgana fic, not that this one solves anything in canon. And wow, I didn't realize how much potential Frozen had to resonate with Morgana until I was brainstorming for this fic last night.
Feel free to spread some holiday cheer in the comments if you like. Any and all flames will fuel the fire by which my characters snuggle with their significant others (and friends!).
Happy holidays and best of luck coming up with your New Year's resolutions!