Title: Le Fay
Summary: Hate me today, hate me tomorrow, hate me for all the things I didn't do for you; Hate Me, Blue October
Characters: Morgana & Merlin
A/N: This has been sitting on my memory stick for ages so I figured I might as well post it. This is set years in the future, after Morgana has discovered her destiny as Morgana Le Fay and Merlin is Arthur's advisor and Camelot's defending sorcerer.
The tap of her heels echoes eerily down the long stone corridor. She's passed this way countless times before, but never like this. Never with magic burning molten in her eyes and revenge coiling itself around her heart.
She had been Morgana, first lady of Camelot; the king's spirited ward, renowned for her beauty and compassion. Now she is Le Fay, hated and feared, powerful… oh so powerful. There is an emptiness to her beauty now; her features are the same, but where there was fierce, vibrant life driving her on, there is now a dark, lurking menace which speaks of a blackened soul.
She opens the doors to the Great Hall with a flash of her eyes, and there he is, waiting for her, just as she knew he would be. He hasn't changed much. Her lip curls. How pathetic he looks, standing before the throne as if he would protect it as he has always protected its owner.
"Merlin," she drawls. "How nice to see you again."
"Morgana," he says calmly.
She waits; for an accusation, perhaps, or a plea - maybe even a curse, if he's desperate. But he says nothing more, watching her with emotionless eyes.
The silence bores her. Casting a look about the room, she remarks, "This is the room where you poisoned me, do you remember? I was so shocked. Didn't for one second think you would ever betray me."
A slight tightening around his eyes show that he is not quite as composed as he seems.
"What do you want, Morgana?" he asks quietly, and suddenly he seems old, weary of life and its pain and its betrayals. She smiles serenely.
"Just a little chat," she tells him. "Where is Arthur?"
"Why would you want to know?"
"I was just wondering if Mordred had found him yet," she shrugs.
At her words, he pales. Morgana cannot resist a smirk.
"What happened to you?" he snarls, his sudden anger surprising and refreshing. Morgana likes anger. Anger is something she can relate to, something she can turn to her own advantage. She herself has long since learned to conceal anger, but Merlin… poor Merlin, he chose not master his art in favour of remaining at Camelot. He could have been great, she reflects, slight envy rippling in the corners of her mind. But no matter.
"You did," she says silkily. "And now Arthur will pay the price."
"You're insane," he whispers.
Morgana throws back her head and laughs.