merlin/morgana: my own shadow clouds my heart (pg)fragmentedskyDecember 19 2010, 21:56:25 UTC
There’s a point where Merlin realizes that Morgana being evil makes his own life easier, or at least less heavy. He wonders if he should feel guilty about that.
He spent a whole year thinking that Uther was sending out soldiers to die for nothing. He had said to Arthur, as clearly as he could while Arthur wasn’t actually standing by any sharp objects and Uther wasn’t within hearing distance at all, that he was fairly certain Morgana was dead. Which was the truth, really, although he was much more vague on what exactly made him think that. Arthur, predictably, didn’t listen to him. It was frustrating, but he knew Arthur well enough to know that the prince would be ten times more intolerable if he had to give up and not look for her.
Either way, Arthur was just incidental. Arthur hadn’t been in the room. Arthur could think of Morgana without remembering that look on her face, that horrible look, as her breath stopped and she curled up in on herself, flinching away.
Merlin hated him a little for that.
Then Morgana came back, and forgave him, and he felt like the luckiest total murdering scumbag in the world. Of course, that turned out to be short-lived. But he admitted - if only to himself - that he’d been looking for it. Because he’d known, as he watched her die, that she had no idea why he’d killed her. She knew who was behind the spell, certainly, but not that she was a part of it, and she thought - she had been sure, at least in that moment - that he had killed her to kill her, not to stop the spell. And beyond all that background noise, he’d spent a year redrawing lines in the sand, trying - in a fruitless effort to burn those eyes out of his brain - to decide what justified that kind of crime.
Especially against someone who had trusted him so utterly, who had put her faith in him in a way he’d been too cowardly to return.
It is so much easier when she is the enemy. When he knows that he is good, and she is evil. It is easier to fight. Easier to sleep.
For whatever reason, it isn’t easier to forget. The candle flame will lengthen and he will remember standing with her in the almost-dark as she tried to pull the pieces of herself apart, not understanding why she was who she was. He wonders now if he is the reason, if she’d be different if he hadn’t listened to the dragon. He realizes that evil is just a word, and he must pull himself apart as well if he ever wants to forget what she felt like in his arms as he knelt beside her on the cold stone floor.
Re: merlin/morgana: my own shadow clouds my heart (pg)dollsomeDecember 20 2010, 09:42:41 UTC
AUGH, this is amazing! It makes me realize that I've pretty much always considered this pair from Morgana's perspective before, as opposed to Merlin's, and wow, there is so much that's thoughtful and soul-hurty and awesome on the Merlin side.
He realizes that evil is just a word, and he must pull himself apart as well if he ever wants to forget what she felt like in his arms as he knelt beside her on the cold stone floor.
Re: merlin/morgana: my own shadow clouds my heart (pg)fragmentedskyDecember 21 2010, 01:12:00 UTC
Ironically, Morgana is my favorite character, but I almost never write from her perspective. I've tried, but I'm not all that great at pulling it out of my head coherently, at least not yet.
But thank you so much - I'm glad you enjoyed it. My fingers are crossed that you'll participate, because your stories are always so amazingly well-done.
Re: merlin/morgana: my own shadow clouds my heart (pg)fragmentedskyDecember 29 2010, 15:34:52 UTC
It's something that has always frustrated me - everybody set her up to make the wrong choices and then wondered why that was what she did. But thank you!
He spent a whole year thinking that Uther was sending out soldiers to die for nothing. He had said to Arthur, as clearly as he could while Arthur wasn’t actually standing by any sharp objects and Uther wasn’t within hearing distance at all, that he was fairly certain Morgana was dead. Which was the truth, really, although he was much more vague on what exactly made him think that. Arthur, predictably, didn’t listen to him. It was frustrating, but he knew Arthur well enough to know that the prince would be ten times more intolerable if he had to give up and not look for her.
Either way, Arthur was just incidental. Arthur hadn’t been in the room. Arthur could think of Morgana without remembering that look on her face, that horrible look, as her breath stopped and she curled up in on herself, flinching away.
Merlin hated him a little for that.
Then Morgana came back, and forgave him, and he felt like the luckiest total murdering scumbag in the world. Of course, that turned out to be short-lived. But he admitted - if only to himself - that he’d been looking for it. Because he’d known, as he watched her die, that she had no idea why he’d killed her. She knew who was behind the spell, certainly, but not that she was a part of it, and she thought - she had been sure, at least in that moment - that he had killed her to kill her, not to stop the spell. And beyond all that background noise, he’d spent a year redrawing lines in the sand, trying - in a fruitless effort to burn those eyes out of his brain - to decide what justified that kind of crime.
Especially against someone who had trusted him so utterly, who had put her faith in him in a way he’d been too cowardly to return.
It is so much easier when she is the enemy. When he knows that he is good, and she is evil. It is easier to fight. Easier to sleep.
For whatever reason, it isn’t easier to forget. The candle flame will lengthen and he will remember standing with her in the almost-dark as she tried to pull the pieces of herself apart, not understanding why she was who she was. He wonders now if he is the reason, if she’d be different if he hadn’t listened to the dragon. He realizes that evil is just a word, and he must pull himself apart as well if he ever wants to forget what she felt like in his arms as he knelt beside her on the cold stone floor.
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He realizes that evil is just a word, and he must pull himself apart as well if he ever wants to forget what she felt like in his arms as he knelt beside her on the cold stone floor.
Just -- LOVE.
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But thank you so much - I'm glad you enjoyed it. My fingers are crossed that you'll participate, because your stories are always so amazingly well-done.
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Augh, my heart! When he knows that he is good, and she is evil. It is easier to fight. Easier to sleep.
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