Romance isn't exactly my area of expertise. I hope this turned out fairly decent though. I really wanted to write a Morgana related fic.

Also despite how it seems at first, no one dies in this. Sorry for kind of spoiling it, but personally I avoid death fics. They tend to depress me.
I hope you enjoy :)

'He is your destiny, and he is your doom.'

Morgana assumed that she would feel satisfaction, once that meddling manservant was out of her way. She'd be glad that she was another step closer to claiming her throne. She imagined she would cackle evilly and dance on his grave.
But instead of being glad, everything felt...wrong. Very, very wrong.
Merlin lay there cold and unmoving on the forest floor, his skin paler than she had ever seen before. Was he even breathing? It didn't seem like it.
Morgana took a few tentative steps towards him, and then a few more. Before she realized it, she had reached his side and sat down beside him.

Seeing him there looking so lifeless, it seemed surreal. He wasn't wearing that blinding smile, that would nowadays disappear the second he saw her. He wasn't even glaring. He looked so... Dead.

She should just stand up and walk away. She really should. But instead of doing that, Morgana continues to sit and stare at him.

Didn't she want him dead? She had tried to kill him multiple times before. He was nothing but a thorn in her side. She should stab him in the back as he had done to her, just to ensure that he wouldn't be getting back up.

But even as she thought these completely rational things, her body refused to take action.

He handed her poison, and has tried to kill her on multiple occasions.
She trusted him, and he betrayed her. Sometimes she would like nothing more than to place her hands around his throat and squeeze all the air out of his body.
So why couldn't she just accept this, and let the man die? This lying, deceiving, treacherous man.

Morgana remembers how in a past life when she lived in Camelot, she thought he was kind and considerate. She had truly treasured their friendship. She'd admired the way he cared little for impressive titles and did what he believed to be right. Thanks to him, Arthur had actually become bearable to be around. Merlin had always managed to bring a smile to her face, even on the most horrible of days. They'd chat and joke around, and she would forget whatever Uther had done to upset her. Merlin listened to her, and when he knew of her magic, he didn't judge her.

Well, until she attempted to bring down Camelot of course.

As she thought about her current actions and her precious memories, it suddenly hit her.

She must have recently done something to insult Eros. Because when she wasn't looking, he had snuck up behind her and shot her with his damned arrow.

Morgana had somehow fallen in love with Merlin.

Love was such a strange thing.
It just had to be the meddling, scrawny manservant who she had been cursed to love. The fool who somehow manages to thwart all her plans. The idiot, who follows Arthur around like a starved dog. The one who cares little for nobility or riches. Who would hide his hurt, so he wouldn't burden others. The fool who would put himself in harms way, just to save a stranger.

And yet despite all his kindness, he had handed her hemlock for her to drink. He did nothing as she was struggling to breathe as she felt the life leaving her body.

And then he held her in his arms... Was it simply out of guilt? Was it to trick her? Or was it possible he could he have truly cared for her? Her specifically?

Merlin may have been the reason she completely turned her back on her old friends and Camelot. The one to start her downward spiral into darkness. That moment when she realized what he had done to her. When she realized he would kill her without a second thought, just to protect his precious prince.

Morgana wiped a spot of dirt off of his face with her thumb.

She wanted to fight him, and watch drops of crimson run down his fair skin. And then she'd patch him up and kiss it better, and be held in his arms until she entered a dreamless slumber.

She really should have realized all this when she had him tied up. Talk about a wasted opportunity.

Hurt him, twist him, scratch and hit him. Kill him... Well necrophilia wasn't really her thing. She'd rather have him alive.

Her love for him wasn't a joyful one. It was bittersweet. But with too much bitterness and not enough sweet. She loathed him and she loved him. She despised him, and desired him. She wanted to hold him, and at the same time she wanted to harm him.

Nothing was making any sense to her anymore.

Why did it have to be him? There was no chance of him ever loving her back. After all she did...

If she had never discovered her magic, if she was still back in Camelot, she'd be telling Gwen all about her newfound feelings for Merlin. They'd plan ways to have the two "accidentally" run into each other, and try to figure out if her feelings were reciprocated. Morgana would watch him run across the courtyard doing unneeded chores for Arthur, and maybe try to convince her brother to lessen his manservant's workload. She'd put more care in doing her makeup and looking her best. Maybe she would have even planned it so that her dresses always matched what he was wearing. She would have needed to get more blue and red gowns.

But she wouldn't get the chance to do any of that now.

Morgana brought her lips to his. She couldn't resist. She just had to know how his lips would feel pressed against hers, and she was certain this would be the only chance she got. And she would cherish it.

Her love for him wasn't pure and carefree. It wasn't full of innocent kisses by the lake. There was no lighthearted laughter under the oak trees. No hugs full of warmth. It was a love surrounded by darkness and thorns.

Frankly she was rather surprised she was still capable of love. Because despite her insistence that her actions were for fairness and freedom, she knew her motives were much more dark and selfish. She wanted the throne for herself. She craved power.

Merlin was the light to her darkness. The love to her hated.

She was the dark old witch in the fairy tales she had been told growing up. The one jealous of the beautiful, generous, Guinevere. She couldn't compete. Really though, it was laughable. She was jealous of Gwen, who had not too long ago been but a mere servant. Somehow, Morgana had fallen, from the beautiful and loving ward, to the spiteful witch cursing those who lived in the light. There'd be no happily ever after for her.
She was forever doomed to be spiteful and alone. No worthy man would want Morgana. But surely having freedom and unstoppable power was worth it all in the end? Right?

She could not allow Merlin to die yet. Ending their long, one sided kiss, Morgana stood up and gently placed his head back on the ground.

After some whispered words and a flash of gold, she swiftly turned and walked away without looking back. Away, and back to her lair, where she would continue plotting. Because even though she loved Merlin, she was going to be the downfall of Camelot if it was the last thing she did. Morgana would not let a weakness such as love stop her. She truly hoped he wouldn't continue to get in her way. The throne was hers. And once she claimed it, she could lock her dear Merlin in the dungeons beneath the castle. That way he'd be unable to help Arthur reclaim Camelot, and he'd belong to her forever.

Or maybe, just maybe, if he gave up on his friends, she'd forgive him, and he could rule by her side as her King.

Her love for him wasn't beautiful.
It was tragic.
And it could never be. was it? Was it too disorganized? Or not enough description? Not Dark enough? Not enough emotion? Too dramatic? Too OOC? All of the above? Other? –slaps self to shut myself up-

I feel like I should have edited it a bit more. But it's been sitting in my iPod for a month now collecting dust, and I don't think it will ever seem right to me. I just took a chance and decided to put it up. So if there are mistakes or horrible sentence structure, my apologies.

If you liked this or like my writing style, please check out some of my other stuff maybe?

I'm not really used to writing romance (or writing anything really), so I'd really love/need to hear some feedback. Whether its criticism or praise, please review :)

Really Small Mini Extra Thing:

When Merlin finally came to, he was fully healed, albeit a bit disoriented, and his cheeks were wet with tears. Which wasn't that surprising, considering he had been in quite a lot of pain.
But then he realized... The tears weren't his.
He looked around to see who had helped him, but no one was there.
Confused but grateful, Merlin stood up and began walking back to Camelot. Back to Arthur.