Morgana sat in front of the large water basin, her green and black dress crumpled beneath her and her raven colored hair resting in a heap above her head before cascading down her slim shoulders and narrow back. She was crying on her brother's speech, as she was sure hundreds of others were doing, watching from above and afar as he freed magic and recognized Merlin's skill and thanked him, calling him courageous and brave.
Hot anger coursed through her as her normally jade colored eyes glowed golden and she could hear pottery exploding in the background. That servant was nothing more than a coward. How dare Arthur call him courageous! He hadn't even the courage to admit that he had magic, even in Morgana's time of need, even after she went to him for help when her own magic was developing.
And then to find out he was Emrys! She let out a wild scream of frustration, another pot shattering behind her. All this time...Merlin was Emrys! That man that was to be her doom, her destiny. A wave of hatred rolled off her shoulders as she thought of him and had anyone else been in the room with her they would be shaking in their boots from the look of hatred on her face.
There were so many times where that one explanation, Merlin having magic, would be the only one that made sense, but she'd never acknowledged it; the event with Sophia when Gaius said he was going to get 'someone who could help,' the whirlwind in Ealdor, when Arthur had been bitten by the Questing Beast, when he's been undoubtedly stung by a Serket and survived, in the Castle of Fyrien when her sisters pillar of magic had suddenly exploded, and then again when he'd survived the touch of the Dorocha.
So many times the truth was before her, even when Alator of the Catha had tortured Gaius and found the truth; he'd knelt in front of that servant and told her he knew exactly who he was and where he was. It had been staring her right in the face, she might even had connected the dots if Alator hadn't hit her with a blast of air from his staff.
She remembered the dream she'd had so many years ago, shortly after the Calyx had told her about Emrys; a blood red sky, bodies lying in heaps around her while flags with twisting snakes and Camelot's own flags hung from their poles against the non-existent wind, Arthur's new sword sticking out of one of his foes while arrows littered the ground, groaning filling the air as she begged Emrys - an old, feeble man in red robes and holding a white staff with a mixture of a terrible sadness and anger fixed upon his wrinkled face - to help her. In all truth, the vision scared her. What would reduce her so much that she begged her doom for help? But then she got a little solace knowing it would never happen. She could feel the future changing. Merlin's revelation had changed everything; all of magic. Everything was changing, and with it was a storm, the turning point of everything. Even Mordred could feel the tension in his own magic.
Looking back on the past two weeks, she thought it was astounding how much everything had changed. Magic was free... Shouldn't she be happy...rejoicing? But she couldn't, not when she hadn't had her revenge. That maid was still sitting on her thrown, that manservant now sat at Arthur's right side. She wanted revenge on everyone in Camelot that had betrayed her...and now she had help.
She'd reunited with Mordred shortly after she's transported herself after her fight with Emrys...with Merlin. He'd found her lying unconscious in the middle of the woods, having sensed her distress, he'd helped her, carrying her to his own encampment with Alvarr and his convoy. He'd healed her, fed her, and now they were in Merris, a kingdom northeast of Camelot, and they were making plans.
Morgana turned as she heard a resounding knock on the door, slightly startled at the sudden noise. She'd been jumpy for a little while now, and she could feel something on the horizon. She quickly muted her brother's speech as he laid the flat of Excalibur on Merlin's shoulder. She felt boiling rage flare up again at the sight of it, ending the scrying spell completely as she slapped the water.
"Come!" She commanded angrily.
The large wooden door opened to reveal Mordred himself, dressed in a long deep green cloak, the hood down and the ends brushing against his ankles. Morgana quickly calmed at the sight of the young man, still astounded at how much he'd grown during their time apart. Gone was the small, naive boy she'd helped save from the pyre, and standing in front of her was a young man with short, curly black locks, broad shoulders and a mature face.
"Morgana, we're ready," he said shortly.
She nodded. They'd arrived here just this morning and were waiting for a council with the king; they needed allies, an army if they wanted to march on Camelot, and this was where they'd gone. Almost everyone else was allied with Camelot. Well, so was Alined, or...he supposedly was. But he was also a coward, taking the winning side and whichever side would make him richer.
Morgana stood up from the chair she'd been sitting on in front of the water basin and walked across the room, swaying her hips, and showing off the royal she once was and always would be. She jutted out her chin proudly as Mordred led her to the council chambers, where they were to discuss what would happen next. She took a seat at the end of the table, Mordred at her right as Alvarr stood behind Mordred, his hands folded in front of him patiently.
The King was directly in front of her on the other side of the table, an older man with quickly greying hair and a gold crown upon his head. As usual, he had a fur wrap blanketing his already caped shoulders, the fur the only light color in his entire outfit aside from his silver chainmail. Trickler stood slightly beside him, his hands folded behind him as he eyed the newcomers with a devious grin on his scruffy face. He was as much a coward as his master. This should be easy.
The talks went well, Morgana using the same 'Arthur is a curse upon this land,' routine that she always did, this time even adding 'and so is his queen and no good servant,' reminding him that Merlin had been the one to foil his last plan to start a war, one which she's heard from Mordred. She played on the King's own insecurities and fears as well as promising him a share of Camelots many riches in return for his alliance. Morgana saw a twinkle in his eye as she mentioned gold, silver, and jewels and fueled that part of the conversation.
It was an easy win, Alined's greed getting the best of him, as it always did, and he quickly agreed, his Trickler laughing childishly behind him. Morgana fought the urge to do something rash as his laughter became even more annoying.
Patience, she reminded herself. It was what her sister Morgause had always told her and many of her plans had gone awry due to her own impatience. She took a deep breath and calmed herself as Mordred mischievously smiled beside her.
This was happening. Morgana knew it would take a few months to prepare everything; to acquire enough soldiers, sorcerers, but this would happen, was happening. And right on time for the approaching storm.