A/N: I do not own Merlin and please review

Morgana finds it ironic that men have often clambered, clawed, and trampled, to gain what she has gained by chance. A dry sound escapes her throat, (it might have been a laugh once but she doesn't know how to laugh anymore). Immortality, to live forever. To roam the earth until all is ruined and your name is merely remembered by the shadows of ghosts, (she might have smiled at the irony of the situation by she no longer knows how to smile). Then she thinks if this is what they seek then how do they live? She answers her own question. They don't. Morgana lived once, before this monotony. She felt the wind whip her hair as she road through plains grass. She remembered laughter bubbling from her throat. She felt the touch of lover's lips. She laughed and loved and hated. She felt once. Now these things are only shadows on the walls of her mind and when she tries to reach out and touch what once was her fingers touch merely air. (She would cry and scream herself hoarse but she doesn't know how to anymore.) Morgana had learned a long time ago that this wasn't life, this was merely an existence. Life had passed by her a long time ago. If by chance she caught the eye of a man with blue eyes as deep as a lake and hair as black as hers; if she by chance felt the ghost of a heart beat thrum in her ears, she paid it no mind. This was her existence.