She had spent over a thousand years watching and following him. Oh all right maybe she stalked him just the teeniest tiniest bit. The first few hundred years she plotted and schemed all the many delicious ways she could hurt him, they may have both been immortal but that didn't mean they couldn't feel pain. And she looked forward to the pain she would inflict upon him. But as the years went on and the more she watched, she realized he was purposely putting himself in dangerous situations.
Sometimes she'd follow him as he returned to Avalon and sobbed and begged with her brother to return. But the stubborn arse that was her brother stayed where he was. There were times when she herself would sit by the waters of Avalon and have a nice conversation with Arthur, ranting, apologizing, whispering promises of things being different if only he would rise. Not for her, of course but for his servant, if only so that she could stop listening to his wailing. Of course, that problem would solve itself if she would only stop following Merlin around for centuries on end.
She watched as the Knights of Camelot returned to life, being reborn, she saw the hope on Merlin's face at the thought that they might remember him, then the anguish that followed when they never did. Gwen and her various reincarnations was the hardest to watch and over the years she found herself wishing for a happy ending for her old friend but no happy ending ever came, Gwen, in any lifetime was destined to wander the world alone. Her happy ending, her knight in shining armour, her Prince and King was slumbering in the waters of Avalon and until he returned Gwen would never get her happy ending.
Morgana watched as slowly Merlin stopped seeking out the reincarnations of his friends, it was clear until Arthur rose, they would not remember their previous lives. Being immortal was both a blessing and a curse.
There were decades and centuries Morgana rather enjoyed – she was particularly fond of the 1920s – and there were others where she wondered at the stupidity of humanity, periods where she was disgusted by what man could do to his fellow man. It was during Hitler's reign and as she saw a whole race of people being persecuted and as she worked as a nurse and tried to help where she could, that she had an epiphany about her own quest for power in Camelot. Somewhere along the line her desire to save her kind had turned into a personal vendetta and she had become the very thing she hated: Uther.
In the 60s she become a hippie, a feminist in the 70s, the 90s saw her try her hand at being a goth, then later an emo, though she was never really clear on the distinction between the two. She laughed as Wicca came into fashion – though she quite enjoyed watching Charmed and pointing out the inaccuracies to herself. She read the various versions of the Arthurian Legends and laughed at the absurdity of versions that had her as Arthur's lover and Mordred as her child.
So far she was rather enjoying the twenty first century, she had followed Merlin to University where he had enrolled as a student, so she decided why not? She could enjoy education as well but made sure to enroll in classes that she knew he would not be in. He focused on history anyway, which was ridiculous considering they'd both lived it. She chose to focus on English Literature; she'd always enjoyed stories. She even made a friend or two.
She cuddled up in her favourite armchair in the coffee shop where her Shakespeare study group was meeting and thanked all that was good in the world for the invention of coffee. And hot chocolate. She loved hot chocolate. With those little marshmallows floating on the top of it. Slowly each member of her study group flitted in and sat in the small alcove of the busy coffee shop with her, chatting about what they'd loved or hated about that week's reading. She enjoyed listening to their interpretation's of the Bard's work even if they did get it terrifyingly wrong most of the time.
The bell above the door dinged and the cold air came in and with it came Sarah, hauling a slight frame behind her. A slight frame Morgana knew well, knew better than anyone in fact. He had on baggy jeans, a t-shirt with some obscure band on it, a jacket that looked like it had seen better days and a ridiculous beany over his hair. He kept his eyes down cast as Sarah talked a mile a minute, dragged him to their alcove and shoved him into a chair. Morgana tilted her head and watched him as he stared at the floor. Like her, he hadn't aged a day; he still had those lips and cheekbones any girl would envy.
He moved to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees and head bowed, she couldn't look away, it was as if she was fascinated by his every move, every flutter of those dark lashes. She'd only watched him from afar and this was the closest she'd been to him since he'd shoved a sword into her. She wanted him to look up, to capture her in those startling blue eyes of his; she wanted him to acknowledge her. Part of her wanted him to look at her the way he once did when he first came to Camelot before it all fell apart, before her magic, before he poisoned her, before Morgause, before her fear and hatred of Uther tore her apart, before that hatred extended to her brother, before the only connection the two of them had was their constant battle for Camelot. She wanted him to look at her like she was who she once was and not look at her with pity and disdain for who she became.
She watched as he clasped his hands together then released them, flexing his fingers. The others in her group chattered to each other, Sarah settled into the chair beside Morgana, offered her a little wave but Morgana's focus was singularly on Merlin.
"Hello Merlin," She drawled slowly, savouring the taste and feel of saying his name out loud.
Time seemed to move to a halt as he slowly raised his head and lifted startled eyes to her, he sucked in a harsh breath and on the exhalation whispered; "Morgana."
All chatter around them had crashed to an abrupt stop, Sarah pointed a finger between Merlin and Morgana, her brow furrowed and creased into a frown; "You two know each other?"
Morgana knew it was harsh and bitter but she couldn't stop the words from flying out snarkily; "The last time we saw each other, he killed me."
She said it full of sass but wished she could take it back at the tortured pain in his eyes.
"He killed you?" One of the guys asked, she couldn't remember his name. She wasn't sure she cared.
She waved a hand regally; "Oh, it was my fault really, I did after all kill his best friend first."
Merlin sat up straight, clenched his fists, narrowed his eyes and glared at her. They were all staring at her, mouths gaping and she mentally rolled her eyes. She forced out a harsh laugh; "I am of course talking in metaphors."
"So, when you say he killed you, what you really mean is that he broke your heart?" Someone asked.
Morgana watched, head tilted as Merlin laughed bitterly, rose to his feet and said; "In order for me to break her heart, Morgana would have to have one."
And then he was striding through the coffee shop, pushing the door open harshly, and exiting without a backward look at her. She tried to tell herself she didn't care that he didn't spare her one last look.