Chapter Text
Morgana woke with a bloodcurdling scream, eyes flashing violet as the mirror on her vanity shattered into pieces. Her hand clutched at her stomach in agony, remembering every ounce of the mortal wound. Rushing to her feet as the pain faded, her eyes darted all around her and took in the room in confusion. Her head wouldn’t stop spinning as a guard came bolting in, and she couldn’t help backing away with her hand held up defensively. His face was filled with concern, however, sword poised at the ready while he inspected her chambers; earning a pause even in her befuddled state.
“My lady, are you alright?” He asked sternly, and her confusion increased at the address. She took in a few shuddering breaths, unable to sound the words out, until Guinevere swept in. Her mind stopped working completely, then, seeing her old friend wearing her serving dress, looking worried and frightened– but a tad relieved as she rushed to Morgana’s side.
“Oh, Mor- my lady, you’re awake!”
Morgana didn’t stop the other girl from taking her hand in hers, nor did she say anything while being led to sit back down on the edge of her bed. As she started to reel in her panicked breathing she finally managed, “I-I’m fine. Just… a spider. I seem to have overreacted.. Perhaps.” Her explanation was weak, but clearly her lie was covered up enough by her own anxiety, as the guard relaxed. Albeit, a bit warily, he nodded.
“I can see to the mirror, Garreth,” Gwen’s sweet voice filtered out now, as she rubbed soothing circles on her mistress’ back. Morgana shook under her hand, wondering how long it had been since someone had touched her like this, and wondering if this was her own personal hell. To be reminded of her friend’s kindnesses as punishment for the wrath she had brought down upon them.
The guard, Garreth, took a bow, “I will alert the physician of your awakening, but should I ask them to leave you the night to rest?” Morgana gave a short nod in response and he left the room with a soft click of her door latch. Only then did Guinevere settle down onto the bed beside her and attempt to wrap a comforting arm around her friend, but the taller woman was having none of it.
She all but wrenched herself away as though she had been burned, standing and crossing the room to stand by the window. She looked out over the citadel, wrapping her arms around herself as the sun peeked over the horizon.
“Morgana? Was it another nightmare? You were out for a few days, you had us all worried sick.” Gwen’s voice broke her from her thoughts as she turned to her maid, who looked so young now that their eyes met and she knew now that she was back, ten years before her own death.
Eyes widened, she nodded, tears welling up faster than she could help, and they rolled down her face heavily. She collapsed to the ground then, pulling her knees to her chest and sobbing into them.
Her memories were clanging in her head, yelling at her that this wasn’t her, she was meant to hate and to maim, to bring down these people she called friends. But none of the hatred followed, just sorrow and loss and pain. Over her crimes, over the losses she faced, over the losses she caused. It felt like hell, ripping through her heart.
Morgause had stripped everything that was her, until all that was left was a shell of pure evil; and now it filled her with nothing but repulsion.
Her friend was at a loss, and while already concerned about the space her lady had put between them, she did what she normally would and wrapped her arms around Morgana in a comforting embrace.
This time, the king’s ward melted into the touch and cried freely. After some time it shifted, to where Morgana’s face pressed into the other girl’s neck, to where Gwen quietly stroked her hair and whispered soothing words into her hair.
“Gwen.. oh it’s horrible. I am horrible. I’m to be a monster!” Her voice cracked on the last word as her sobs wracked through her body, her lungs burning as she hiccuped. She felt the smaller girl shake her head, and hush her softly.
“You could never be a monster, what dreams are you having that would lead you to believe so?” Her voice was nothing short of confused and perturbed. Morgana could still feel the dull ache of where the sword had sliced through her– where Merlin had buried it to the hilt and, with nothing but hallowed sadness, had watched her bleed to death.
She knew Gwen couldn’t understand, not fully, and never would. The dream was like a brand, filling her mind with false memories. There was only one person who could ease her conscience, and he would be hiding in the shadows at this point. She wanted nothing more than to make amends, knowing her sins were null and void in a world where they hadn’t come to pass.
With a shake of her head, she did what she always did best; lied. She pulled away from her maid– her friend, who caused a heart wrenching pang to squeeze in her chest– and gave her a watery smile, “I’m sorry, I… I think I might need to see Gaius, do you… would you mind cleaning up for me?” She questioned gently, accepting a handkerchief from the other girl who looked oddly suspicious before nodding softly at her.
“That’s probably for the best, you’ve been out with a mysterious illness for the past two days.” She explained, and Morgana swallowed hard, connecting the memories flooding back to that statement. The man who had claimed to have healed her, who tried to take Gaius’ job. ‘Another that Merlin probably took care of.’ With the help of her friend, she shakily stood and brushed herself off.
After making sure her knees wouldn’t give out, she went over to her bedside table to retrieve a candle as well as her nightcoat. As Gwen lit a few candles across the room, she whispered a soft incantation and lit her own.
Once prepared, she slipped out of her room and headed for the physician’s chambers, saying only that she was to see Gaius when Garreth tried to stop her.
She pushed the door open, hearing the old man snore before she had even entered the room. It seemed almost too easy to sneak her way by him and up the few steps leading to his ward’s antechamber. She gave two soft knocks of warning before silently slipping inside.
The room was mostly dim other than her candlelight, and she glanced around the small, dank space with a bit of reverence. Emrys, of all people, lived like this? A freezing cold, musty room with a cot that barely fit his lanky arms that were strewn all about? His floor was a mess, covered in shirts and armour and wash basins. There was a loose floorboard casted to the side near the head of his bed, and laid across his chest was a spellbook.
The sorceress couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the sight. Gods, she wondered how she never stumbled across this.
Her heart raced a little, now, as she neared the young boy who looked so young bathed in candlelight and the faint rays of sunlight starting to peek through his window. She feared he would somehow remember everything as she did. There was determination, though, that swelled inside her and she knew she couldn’t turn back.
Setting down her candle on his side table, she lowered herself to perch on the edge of his bed and gently shook his shoulder in a move to rouse him. She didn’t expect him to all but flinch awake at the touch, sitting up quickly and knocking his book to the side. She caught it before it hit the floor, and each of their eyes went wide in surprise as they met.
Merlin’s eyes flickered between her and the book, breath quickening slightly as he began trying to come up with an excuse. Before he could speak, she placed her free hand over his, shaking her head.
“It’s okay, Merlin.” She let out quietly, setting the book down between them, “I know.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, searching her face with confused and fearful eyes. Whatever he found must have soothed him because he relaxed, just barely, sitting back against the wall, “What’s going on?”
“This is going to sound a bit… odd.” She started slowly, as he waited for her to explain, “But ever since I was a young girl, I’ve had… dreams. I know now that they weren’t just horrid nightmares, but visions. Of the future.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste the tangy, metallic sting of blood as she fought her tears down once more, “I believe whatever I was affected with while ill only made them stronger.” She sniffled now and he sat up straighter, concern written all over his face.
She turned her head away, feeling the bile rise in her chest as she thought about everything she saw, had lived. The future was grim, she knew that. But she believed this was a second chance and she pushed down her own nausea as she breathed in deeply.
“I saw awful things, Merlin,” She admitted, nearly jumping out of her skin when she felt his fingers close over her own, and finally she looked back at him, “I think I am destined for evil, and I think you are the only one who can help me.” She couldn’t fight the tears anymore, they flowed freely down her cheeks, and Merlin was scooting forward to shake his head fervently.
He squeezed her hand, “Morgana, I do not think evil is born, it is made. And while I have only just met you, I know you are not evil. You are kind, and compassionate, and you fight for what you believe in. You are the first to try and convince Uther to do the right thing, and you push Arthur to believe in himself enough to do so on his own. You are a good person. The future is something we make,” He answered softly, with wisdom so unlike himself that she wondered then how he ever managed to hide as just a servant.
She leaned forward then, and he let her wrap him in a hug and hold him tight, returning the embrace warmly, “I want to tell you what I know, Merlin. And… I want to make a better future than this.” She answered urgently, choking on her tears. He nodded softly, rubbing her back.
“I will listen, and I promise you will hear no judgement from me about a future that we won’t allow to exist.”
They didn’t have time that morning, with the sun already beginning to rise and the fact that Arthur would no doubt need help. Merlin had taken time to fill her in on the man who had made her sick using a magical beetle, which made her skin crawl. He assured her the issue was resolved while she slept the last day away– despite being healed. She had figured as much, but was glad for the confirmation that Merlin had handled it.
She returned to her newly cleaned chambers, where Gwen was setting up her new vanity. Near the window, where she liked it for the best lighting. Her heart swelled at the sight, the feeling clashing with the guilt deep in her gut, but she pushed through, “Gwen? Would you mind helping me dress? I’m sure my f-” She stopped abruptly, coughing, before beginning again, “Uther will want me to join him for breakfast,” She corrected, but the other girl didn’t comment on her slip.
Instead she smiled, warmly, filling Morgana’s chest with a deep ache, “Of course, my lady.” She replied, heading over to the wardrobe to pick her out a dress to wear. Morgana couldn’t help it as she sat down at her vanity, and in the new mirror, watched her through the reflection. The way her chestnut brown locks, which were pinned out of her face perfectly as they usually were, caught in the light. The way she moved around the room, picking out the perfect accessories to pair with her mistress’ dress.
When her maiden turned to head over, she made herself look busy with brushing her hair. She finally looked at herself in the mirror, and she had to tighten her grip on the brush so she wouldn’t lose it. She hadn’t seen herself look this way, this young and light, this unburdened, in so long.
She startled slightly when the still hairbrush was plucked from her fingers and Guinevere began working through her midnight curls herself.
“I’m so happy to see you up and about again, Morgana. We were all very worried.” She hummed softly, meeting her eyes through their reflections and the brightness in the other girl’s face encouraged a genuine smile to grace her lips.
She reached back and caught Gwen’s wrist gently, “Thank you. Merlin told me you were vigilant by my side. You don’t know what that means to me,” She replied softly, before dropping her hold.
Guinevere blushed slightly, setting the brush down and carefully pinning Morgana’s hair in an elegant plait down her back, “Well, we’re more than just… maid and mistress, right? We’re friends?” She questioned, almost nervously, and the paler woman couldn’t help but turn around quickly, catching her hands this time
“Yes, of course. You’re my dearest friend,” Her answer was earnest, almost pleading, as the brunette’s eyes widened slightly. Their fingers intertwined, and Gwen scrunched her face in worry.
“Morgana, are you feeling alright? Are you sure your dream isn’t still bothering you?” She freed one hand to press her palm to the other girl’s forehead to feel for any warmth.
Morgana stood, squeezing then releasing the hand still in her own, “Honestly, it is. But don’t worry, I’m handling it with Gaius and Merlin,” She admitted, which was mostly the truth, “I’ll be meeting with them in the evenings for a while, until we figure out what ails me. Now come, help me dress?”