The Redemption Arc (A BBC's Merlin Fanfiction)

Chapter 30

Morgana hated waking up in the war camps. It brought back too many painful memories. She sometimes wished Aithusa was still here. She could not share a tent with Merlin, and she simply could not confide in Gwen for some things as she could with Merlin. 

Aithusa reminded her of Merlin in some ways. For her large eyes and innocence that seemed to disappear on the battlefield. For with her she needed no words. Aithusa and Merlin always seemed to know how she felt. And once they were there, Morgana felt as if everything might be better. 

She thought she might meet Merlin secretly, but she doubted she'd be able to beat her brother to it. Arthur and Gwen probably needed her and Merlin separately. She disliked it. 

It wasn't as if they had never spent a day apart before. It happened several times while at Camelot itself. But the real reason she feared being apart so much was that she constantly worried about him. 

For the first time ever, Morgana allowed herself to imagine what would happen if Merlin were killed in battle. 

It would wreck her, undeniably. A shudder went through her body and her eyes instantly stung, filling up with tears. Her heart clenched in pain, and she doubled over. She was sure, she would know if he was dying before he realized. The physical pain might numb his body, but their connection was too strong now. She would feel all of his pain herself, and her body would not recognize it enough to do the kindness of numbing her. 

Before she realized it, tears were freely falling down Morgana's face, and her body shook as she sobbed. Her head was in her hands as she prayed to any gods who were listening. 

Please. Please save us all.

*** 

While Morgana fought she felt better. It felt more natural to be at the front of the war, rather than taking a rest. While she fought with Mordred and Morgause, they hadn't seemed to realize she needed more rests than the rest of them for her lack of practice with magic. 

She allowed her power to flow through her sword and slashed past enemy soldiers. She could wipe out entire legions if she tried her best, but it took too much out of her. So she would still take out more enemy soldiers than the average soldier--sorcerer or not--but not to the full extent of her power. For once she was glad that her magic was destructive. 

Sometimes, she worried about their side of the war when she was resting. Other times, she hoped to just get cut down so she could go into the medical camps and maybe see Gaius or Gwen or Merlin. 

Over a span of two weeks, they had readily advanced, backing up Mordred's army, but never catching sight of Mordred himself. Morgana sighed thinking of how she had gotten to see Merlin a total of five times over two weeks. This battle, they were determined to seize Mordred. 

Mordred. My poor boy. Did I do this to you? 

She knew the battlefield wasn't the place to question herself, wasn't the place to have a breakdown. But for some reason, it energized her. She would feed all her depression and hurt into her body, into her weapons. She would win over herself. 

Arthur had luckily called for a meeting the next day. The soldiers badly needed a boost in morale. Too many had died, even more injured. The magic folk and physicians could only do so much. Even infusing all their weapons with curses could only do so much. Mordred's army had too many charms in place. 

But Morgana fought, as she knew the others did. For the people who needed them. 

*** 

The next day, soldiers were rushed into the meeting before the proposed time. 

By the time Morgana got there, they were already talking. 

"--we have reason to believe that we will win this war. Sir Mordred was seen retreating with sorcerers rather than soldiers. The soldiers may have been left to fight to keep us at bay while Sir Mordred acquires more resources, be it men or weaponry." 

"We can't let that weasel escape!" a woman shouted. 

"We will not," the soldier nodded, his voice still thundering through the grounds. "In fact, King Arthur and some of our troops are already after him." 

Morgana's eyes grew wide. Arthur was going after him? He should've consulted her first! 

Even so, she knew the king, as commander of the army, could make decisions at any given moment without any consultation during war. She tried to console herself, and was going back to her own tent to prepare when she saw the board that tallied and named the soldiers who were deceased and injured. She stopped when she saw two names. 

Sir Gwaine. And Sir Lancelot. 

A strange feeling akin to grief passed through although she did not know either of them that well. She felt grief for Merlin and Gwen and those whom she knew loved them. For the dead pass away, the ones who truly suffer are those left behind. 

And then she suddenly remembered a dream she had, a long time ago, and she could name the strange feeling that passed through her. A dream in which all of the knights were present, but Sir Gwaine and Sir Lancelot were blurred out. As if they were present and absent at the same time. 

The strange feeling she felt was a foreboding, a premonition. 

She pushed her way to the front and grabbed the arm of the soldier who was still talking. Surprised, he bowed to her. 

"Lady Morgana?"

"Where was Mordred last seen? Where has Arthur gone off to?"

"Um," he looked up, suddenly flustered. His eyes shot back to her. "Ah! Camlann, my lady." He bowed again, as her grip on his arm slacked. 

Camlann. 

*** 

Happy reading! 

Monarch.