Morgana Pendragon beat Arthur at swordplay (hiddenmagic) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2013-02-16 11:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | lancelot, morgana |
Who: Lancelot and Morgana
What: Dealing with the aftermath. Sort of. Dealing as much as Morgana deals.
When 16 February 2013, early afternoon
Where: Their apartment
Warnings: Feels and angst
Status: Thread | Incomplete
Morgana couldn't recall the last time she had slept. Truly slept. Ever since she knew that something had been wrong with Loki, she had refused to sleep, determined that she would miss something, convinced that any time she wasted on sleep would be more time he was under the control of someone. Sleep was a waste but sometimes she had. Brief moments, cat naps more than anything. And then when her body had forced her to sleep after her argument with Arthur. And that's where it had all started. The vision, the determination to prove to Arthur that she could help, that her magic wouldn't make her evil. Prove to him that he was an arrogant prick who thought he knew everything and oh how she would prove him wrong.
Only she hadn't. She had done a locator spell, gone to the circus and she'd been trapped. Forced into costume and make up, forced to perform for the idiots who saw entertainment in misery. They didn't know it was misery, of course. It was just a show. It wasn't real. But it was. And the more the dark emotions swelled within her, the easier it was to ignore her connections to people. Arthur, Gwen. They betrayed her. Or would betray her. Arthur already had. Lancelot, well... he was someone she couldn't quite make sense of in that state. She just knew that she couldn't lose him to betrayal like the others had done. Like they would do. Besides, Loki was there. Always with Dark, but he had been there. And it was so easy to fall into the routine. Scare the spectators when she was supposed to, awe them. The power was always there, waiting for her to understand it, to call upon it. And in letting go of all those fears, Uther's words yelled in her mind, it was so much easier to access.
And she hated it. She hated how she felt, she hated the knowledge that he was right. That arrogant man who led to her father's demise. Had he been there now, she would have ended him there and then. No hesitation this time. No being swayed by lies and false words. He was the poison. And he passed that onto Arthur. No matter what she believed of him, he would be just like Uther. She didn't need anyone. She was better off alone. She had known this all along but the Carnival and its shadows had proven that to her. Reminded her of that. Showed her the potential beneath all the control and worry. And it had been so freeing.
But then, people came in. She had been there for four days, before it had even opened. And the laughter and good feelings, they hurt. Legitimately hurt in ways Morgana never thought possible. Faith and love? It was a weakness and disgusting and she had fought. Used everything she could to fight back. They wanted to take this from her. Wanted to strip her of what was rightfully hers, what was a part of her, because they feared and did not understand and the pain had made it hard to think straight or rationally. Arthur showing up had incensed in her a rage she didn't realize she possessed, it was stronger than anything she had felt towards him, even from when she had thrown him out of the apartment earlier in the week. But he was hugging her and she had wanted to use magic against him. But she hadn't. Something held her back, so Morgana had kneed him.
In the chaos that was going on around them, the control of Dark had lessened and she was able to see what was going on. The freaks running, those under its thrall longer, fear. Some were dying. It was enough to shell shock her. To see what she could have become, had been becoming. So when Lancelot and Arthur got her out, she hadn't fought it, silent and unseeing to the world. She just needed the silence and darkness of her room, which was where she had locked herself the moment they were back at the complex. It was safer that way.
And in her room she had stayed. Lights were off, the curtains drawn. She didn't want to deal with any of it. She didn't want to think about what she had become, what was always there. Uther was right. Arthur was right. She was a monster. Still, she couldn't stay in there forever, so after who knew how many hours, Morgana listened to make sure she was alone before slipping out of the safety of her room. Lancelot would know now, know that she had been right all along, that he shouldn't stay around her. She had given him an out before and he had refused. He wouldn't refuse now, though. It was there, always lurking. Swaying from exhaustion, Morgana went to shower, letting the hot water scald her skin, as if that could wash away the dirt and darkness and invisible blood. It didn't do any good and once the water ran cold, she got out and changed, remaining where she was, just staring in the mirror.
It was all over. Everything she had been working for. And for what? What had been the point? Screaming in frustration, the witch punched the mirror, ignoring the pain and blood. She needed to get out of there. The walls were closing in around her, she needed air and space and to not be here anymore. Reminded.
Opening the door to head to the living room, Morgana closed her eyes to steady herself again. She was just tired.