A/N: So, these two have been haunting my thoughts lately and I had to take a shot at it. I know this scene is a bit redundant, but until Season 3 starts back up there's not much [cannon] to work with : )
Morgana awoke slowly. The first thing she realized was how thirsty she was. More than dry, it was burning all through her mouth and down her throat. She looked around her strange surroundings and tried to remember what had happened. It was no good. The memories weren't there. Pulling the covers away from her body she sat up. She wasn't ready for the dizziness that followed and held her head gently in her hands.
She closed her eyes and heard the soft singing; it was a voice that soothed her. The familiar voice eased the room into focus, finally allowing her to let go of her head. Slowly, she lay back on the bed, her body betraying her mind. She tried to get off the bed and go to the voice, but she couldn't muster the energy.
Morgause stayed in the shadows, she wasn't ready to make herself known just yet. Morgana was not strong enough to deal with the truths that waited her. The poison that had tainted her body had left her weak and fragile. Now was a time for healing.
She watched the younger woman with worry in her eyes. There were not many things that broke through her cold exterior. Before Morgana, she'd had no weaknesses. Now, things were different. Now, her sister was lying in her bed fighting against the poison that coursed through her system.
The witch could see Morgana fighting to get up and continued her singing until finally the younger woman's body stilled with slow and steady breaths. Once she was sure the dark haired beauty was sleeping soundly, she stepped into the room.
Morgause sat on the side of the bed looking at the young ward, her fears coming to surface. "Morgana," she whispered, softly. She'd had plan and it had been a good one. She hadn't counted on anyone realizing Morgana was involved. No one else should have been awake and definitely not long enough to realize what was happening.
She slid of the bed crumbling to the ground next to the bed. Morgause reached for her sister's hand and pulled it to her lips. Flashing back to her interactions with Merlin, she cursed herself for hesitating. It was an easy choice: Uther's life for Morgana's. There was no question about whether it would be worth the price. Morgana was by far more important; and yet, she'd hesitated. Refusing to cower at the hand of a boy, she had nearly lost the only person she'd held at any level of affection.
Letting a worried glance pass over the younger woman she realized that her pride might still cost her. Wiping at the tears she hadn't realized she'd cried, Morgause rose to her feet and steeled her resolve. "I will save you," she promised her younger counterpart. She had given her the antidote the first moment she could, but there were other things she could do to make it easier.
Whimpering in her sleep, Morgana began to make small rasping noises from her throat. Reaching for a bowl of water and a cloth, she let the water drip between her sleeping companion's lips. There wasn't enough water in all of Camelot to ease the thirst she knew Morgana must feel, but she hoped it would help.
"Shh," she murmured, softly. She took her time dipping the rag in the bowl and squeezing it over her sister's mouth until Morgana finally settled. Three days had passed, since they had left Camelot. Three days full of worrying and watching. Three nights full of screams and fevered panic. Morgause could tell that her presence helped, but nothing would fully take away the betrayal her younger sister must feel.
Murmuring soft words near her sister's ear, she hoped they'd be enough to forget for a short while. Morgause would have to tell her eventually, but until she got stronger, the only time Morgana seemed to remember was when she was fevered and delusional. The spell wasn't a strong one, but it should be enough to erase that afternoon from her sister's mind until she healed. For now, Morgause would simply have to wait.