Entry tags:
Spooktober 2024, Day 7/31. Merlin Ficlet: the long night shall fall
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Title: the long night shall fall
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kat_lair
Fandom: Merlin
Characters: Morgana
Tags: Spooktober, Ficlet, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence
Rating: T
Word count: 351
Summary: Camelot falls twice.
Author notes: Spooktober 2024, Day 7/31. Prompt/theme: Derelict.
the long night shall fall on AO3
Camelot falls twice. First in fire and magic and bonds that have been broken over and over and over until there is nothing left, not even regret. Morgana never expects to win, only to go down fighting. She gets it half right.
In the end, she is the one left standing. So many are dead, the bodies piled high, the smoke from the pyres turning the sky grey, the air bitter and arid, for a week. Merlin and Arthur may not be technically dead, not really, not permanently, but they are as good as, gone in every way that matters and there’s still a part of Morgana that grieves for that, despite everything.
And yet, she is still here, when so many are not. It’s not what she would call winning though, and she kills everyone who tries. They’ll learn soon enough.
The second fall of Camelot comes more slowly. It creeps in over the years, then decades, as people trickle in but mostly out, as seats of power shift elsewhere and Morgana doesn’t care enough to shift them back even though she could. Her power has never been about trade or gold or even loyalty. Camelot falls gently like leaves in autumn, like a cliff edge eroding under relentless waves of time, with rotting tapestries and crumbling masonry, with servants who grow old and die, their children and grandchildren finding employment elsewhere. Morgana lets them go without a fight too.
The forest moves in like an old friend returning home, rose bushes twisting into thick knots, branches strong like iron, tree saplings sprouting over the practice grounds, once kept meticulously neat. Morgana encourages them to grow, feeding them her power and sorrow until their bark cracks, bleeding sap thick with magic. Three centuries, a blink of an eye, and none who still remember Camelot know how to find it. While the outside world expands beyond imagination, Camelot turns inwards like a flower furling in its petals at sunset, preparing for the long night that follows.
In a way, it’s a relief. Morgana always preferred the dark.
Camelot falls. She remains.
***
Title: the long night shall fall
Author:
kat_lair Fandom: Merlin
Characters: Morgana
Tags: Spooktober, Ficlet, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence
Rating: T
Word count: 351
Summary: Camelot falls twice.
Author notes: Spooktober 2024, Day 7/31. Prompt/theme: Derelict.
the long night shall fall on AO3
Camelot falls twice. First in fire and magic and bonds that have been broken over and over and over until there is nothing left, not even regret. Morgana never expects to win, only to go down fighting. She gets it half right.
In the end, she is the one left standing. So many are dead, the bodies piled high, the smoke from the pyres turning the sky grey, the air bitter and arid, for a week. Merlin and Arthur may not be technically dead, not really, not permanently, but they are as good as, gone in every way that matters and there’s still a part of Morgana that grieves for that, despite everything.
And yet, she is still here, when so many are not. It’s not what she would call winning though, and she kills everyone who tries. They’ll learn soon enough.
The second fall of Camelot comes more slowly. It creeps in over the years, then decades, as people trickle in but mostly out, as seats of power shift elsewhere and Morgana doesn’t care enough to shift them back even though she could. Her power has never been about trade or gold or even loyalty. Camelot falls gently like leaves in autumn, like a cliff edge eroding under relentless waves of time, with rotting tapestries and crumbling masonry, with servants who grow old and die, their children and grandchildren finding employment elsewhere. Morgana lets them go without a fight too.
The forest moves in like an old friend returning home, rose bushes twisting into thick knots, branches strong like iron, tree saplings sprouting over the practice grounds, once kept meticulously neat. Morgana encourages them to grow, feeding them her power and sorrow until their bark cracks, bleeding sap thick with magic. Three centuries, a blink of an eye, and none who still remember Camelot know how to find it. While the outside world expands beyond imagination, Camelot turns inwards like a flower furling in its petals at sunset, preparing for the long night that follows.
In a way, it’s a relief. Morgana always preferred the dark.
Camelot falls. She remains.
***