There was a pitiful whimpering sound resounding in her ears. It was low and fast, sounding as though someone was in immense pain.
She had just retired to her bedroom, worn out from the day's event. Usurping the throne from your unsuspecting father could tire you out quickly.
Morgana's head was aching and the whimpering sound still persisted, increasing her headache. She carefully removed her new crown from her head, hoping it would relieve some of the pain.
She cast her eye around the room, increasingly perturbed by the sound.
After a few moments she located the source. The crown slipped from her fingers as she stared at herself in the mirror. It made a loud clanging sound as it hit the stone floor, and then little clanging sounds, until it settled.
The whimpering sound was coming from her. How ridiculous.
Her reflection was pale and gaunt, her eyes underlined with dark circles. Her chest was heaving as she made gasping noises, the whimpering sound still emitting from her body.
She stared at herself angrily, annoyed at her silliness. What on earth did she have to be whimpering about? She had everything she had ever wanted.
Uther was residing in the place he had sent so many others. She had finally gotten revenge on him. Morgause and herself were free to do whatever they pleased. She now had the throne. The throne! It was everything she had ever wanted.
She had planned so long for this, and now that she'd fulfilled her goal, she was whimpering about it? What was wrong with her?
She felt fine. Didn't she?
Morgana stared at her image defiantly. She did feel fine. Of course she did!
She didn't really feel anything to be honest. She felt . . . hollow. As though everything had been eaten away inside of her. Like there was nothing left.
Was this how she was supposed to feel? Empty? Devoid of anything? Wasn't she supposed to be happy? Elated even? At least somewhat pleased for goddess's sake!
She wanted to feel something. But she didn't.
Her image stared back at her blankly, and she stared too. It was so sickly pale. The eyes seemed empty, glassy, and wide. Like a doll's.
The person in the mirror was like a porcelain doll. Perfect and beautiful on the outside. Completely empty inside.
Her gaze was transfixed on the thing in the mirror. It terrified her suddenly. It was so cold, and distant. It had no regard for anyone, not even itself anymore.
She refused to believe that was her. It was just a thing in the mirror, a meaningless image. It couldn't touch her. It was NOTHING.
Morgana finally managed to tear her gaze away from it, and picked up her crown carefully from the floor.
She set it beside her bed and laid down to sleep, denying the knowledge deep inside of her; that everything she was, was slowly fading, and soon she would be nothing but an empty shell.