My name is Morgana le Fay, and I am tired of people saying I am evil. I am here to tell my side of the story.
When I was four, my eldest sister Elaine married King Nentres. A year later my other sister, Morgause, was wed to King Lot.
I was sent to live at a nunnery when I was nine. I was placed under the care of Sister Maria, and she treated me like a daughter. She raised me to do what I think is right, to be polite, and to always trust in God and remember who I am.
She also taught me majik. She taught me healing, nature magic, and how to change one’s appearance. She made it very clear that majik was only to be used in emergencies, and only for good, never for ill will or personal gain.
I practiced for many years, growing flowers and healing the sick. Sister Maria was the only one who knew about the majik; everyone else thought that it was a gift that I could heal those in need.
At one point, a messenger arrived, announcing that Elaine and Morgause had given birth to healthy baby boys. Elaine had named her son Mordred, and Morgause had named her’s Gawain.
He also brought less welcome news. I was notified that my father, Goloris of Tintagel, had been killed in battle, and that Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot, had taken his widow, my mother, Igraine, to be his wife.
I felt anger. I had never known my father well, but to hear he was sent into battle by his best friend, only to be killed, infuriated me. And then his so-called friend swoops in and takes his wife. It was against everything that I had been taught. My mother was religious, and should have had at least a year of mourning before even considering remarrying. But she didn’t even resist!
I became so upset by this news, that objects nearest me began to quake, and Sister Maria had to confine me to my cell to calm down before anyone else noticed. I calmed enough to regain control of myself, but I did not plan on letting go completely.
When Sister Maria fell with a deadly illness, I could not heal her. I tried everything I could. I felt helpless, trying fruitlessly to nurse the only person who I ever felt truly loved by.
One morning, I woke up to find her body, cold as stone, lying in her bed. I screamed, praying that this was just another one of the nightmares that plagued me, but knowing deep down that it was not. The other sisters thought I could have saved her, but as her death occurred anyway, they saw this as majik.
Not knowing who had performed the majik, they thought back, realizing in doing so that I had cured nearly all of them from near death, though I was only fourteen. They discovered that I had majik. They were grateful, but scared, as majik is dangerous in the wrong hands, and very hard to control. Very few people recognize that majik is wild, and has a will of its own, choosing select people to reside in, and only those who are very powerful could successfully bend it to their will.
About a week after Sister Maria’s death, the second messenger arrived. There was another birth, one that was not so welcome to my ears. Igraine had also borne a son, to Uther, and named him Arthur. Strangely, though, that babe had vanished in the night.
I decided that I would travel to visit my sisters, as there was nothing left for me here, and silently vowed that I would never return to this nunnery again. I had spent five years of my life trapped here, and I wanted to be free, never to be trapped again.
I packed what little possessions I had, and set off at dawn. On the way, I had a terrible thought. Now that Goloris was dead, and his wife was now Uther’s wife, the land that used to be Tintagel was now Camelot, unless I could get Mordred on the throne. As Goloris and Igraine had had no sons, the firstborn son of their eldest daughter was the rightful heir to the throne. This second thought pleased me, and I continued on my way.