There was a part of Morgana that had been and was living the most fulfilling months of her life. Yet – She was learning the sister she’d never known, absorbing every scrap of magic Morgause had to teach her; that said – There was a part of Morgana, a minute part, a part she strove to ignore and never, ever give credence – There was a part of Morgana –
There was a part of Morgana that was waiting for the Crown Prince to attack Morgause’s cave, so that his fate would bring Uther to his knees and the Pendragon line would be dealt its long-earned due. It was the pampered Ward that sought revenge for every magic user in the realm that was no more. Yet still there was a very slight part of Morgana that –
There was a part of Morgana that yearned for any of the lies she had uncovered to still be true. That needed the Prince she had grown up with to leave no stone unturned to bring her back to the only home she had known. If only Arthur came because he loved her, he might yet prove to love the sorceress she had become. He would sweep her up onto his horse and whenever their path allowed it one arm would be firm around her under his cloak. She would feel safe for the first time since she had first beheld a pyre – and what Uther might do in however long it might take until Camelot crowned its new king would be insignifi –
If only she could talk to him away from Uther and Gaius and Merlin – why?! – the man who might as well be her brother would trust her enough to embrace Morgause, and there would be no need for Mandrakes and whispered spells and deceptio –
There was a part of Morgana that longed to prove herself independent, that had visions of herself as Queen of Camelot, beloved and feared by –
There was a part of Morgana that had never prepared for battle, yet was readying to fight tooth and nail.