Hello. I need a Merlin beta. I saw this beautiful gif on tumblr that inspired me to write. Now I can't find it. Faaaaak. Merlin (c) BBC
Morgana lights a candle in her room. You'd think that was the most normal thing ever. Not this time.
It's the middle of the night. She's woken quite abruptly from a nightmare, one wherein she's locked away somewhere very dark, and she can't get out. The feeling of fright and shock still clings to her skin as sticky sweat even after she's escaped sleep. She wishes Gwen was her to comfort her, but she's not; Morgana's alone and it's dark, almost suffocating. As she turns her eyes to the candle by the far wall, she wishes for nothing more than a little light, a small piece of security she can cling to in the blackness surrounding her. Her heart is pounding even harder than when she woke, for a second she worries it will leap from her chest and leave her to die; her fists clamp the bed linen. The candle lights up.
In shock she forgets to breathe properly, all alarm bells in her sound off simultaneously. Is she still dreaming? Is she trapped? She feels a desperately angry heat bubble from her chest up through her throat to her face, making her eyes sting. The flames of the candle grow bigger, out of control; she wants it to stop, no, she wants more light! No, it's dangerous!
A scream is building in her chest, she wants to get out! Eyes fixated on the flames licking the air – soon the curtain – she feels all control leaving her body; she hates being this weak.
It makes her gasp even more surprised as the flame slowly lowers. Elaborate tongues of fire moving downwards, looking as if they were eating into themselves, the light fades away, the angrily melted wax runs down the candlestick lazily. The fire dies out completely.
Left in darkness, it takes Morgana's eyes only a few seconds of blinking to get used to it. The clear moonlight spilling in from her big windows makes her realize it is not as dark as she feared. At first it did not occur to her to look around, but as she sees a flicker of movement by the door she whips her head around, almost letting out the scream she had so tightly packed away.
A silhouette steps forth from the shadow revealing itself by the light of the window.
"Merlin," she barely manages to burst out from under her breath.
His arm is raised, his eyes set calmly, but firm, on the candle. Morgana realizes her fingers hurt from gripping the linen so hard. She tries to relax. Not quite managing, her tense gaze does not leave Merlin for one second. She watches – nervously – as he slowly but surely makes his way from the door to the table by the wall. He takes the candle. Morgana's breath hitches. He seems to eye her wearily for a moment before he walks over, putting the candlestick on the small nightstand by her bed, where it would usually be.
Instead of looking at it, Morgana keeps her eyes on his face.
"What was that?" she manages, this time louder, however surprised her voice comes out as a strained croak.
He puts his eyes on her once again. The ghost of a mysterious smile reaches his mouth.