Morgana Le Fay
(Y/n) grabbed the warm cup of cocoa off the table before settling down on the couch in front of the fire.
She carefully took the old notebook she had found earlier that morning on the couch. The brown leather belt that had once held the book tightly closed was useless now. It hung loosely to the side, at the verge of being completely ripped off. She slowly peeled open the cover, careful not to tear the already worn out pages.
Inside, the pages were enveloped with writing. Spells and rituals throughout cultures, diagrams and pictures, snippets and notes on various assumed cases of resurrections, maps and coordinates, letters - oh, the letters!
Letters to and from Morgana, she remembers- the ones she managed to save throughout time.
(Y/n) gingerly picked up one of the letters. They were the only ones left now. The only remainder of the love they had. The only proof of its existence. Of her existence.
Exhaling slowly, she opened the letter which were already half torn at the many of its creases.
It read, in smooth little letters of black:
My beloved (Y/n),
How are you faring? Is all well?
I still do not understand nor agree with your decision to remain in Camelot. It is dangerous and useless.
You say it is to coax Arthur into lifting the ban on magic. Make him see sense- put in your words- but my love, do you not see that he is beyond reason now? He has banished his own sister out of hatred and fear.
He does not and WILL not understand our suffering.
You say you will use Merlin's help. My darling, I do not know why think that man would help you. Need I remind you that he has tried to kill me. He is a bastard. A traitor to his own kind.
He may be your brother but time and again we've both seen him put Arthur above everything. I do admire that about him, his selfless love for Arthur but that love is also what makes him unable to understand. He has and will always stay by Arthur's side and while I admire loyalty, in this case it is dangerous. All I am saying my dearest, is that I do not trust him.
I know you do not like this anymore than I do. I know you want to save us all. But my lovely , lovely (Y/n) - it can not be done.
Not anymore. We have all hurt and betrayed each other far too much.
(Y/n), please come back to me. I need you here. Please.
Yours forever,
Morgana.
As she finished reading, her eyes were filled with tears again.
'She was right.'
Morgana was right, she couldn't save everyone, but (Y/n) didn't listen to her and she killed everybody. All of their blood was on her hands.
She quickly wiped her tears away before diving back into the books contents.
As the night dragged on, with raging cold winds outside, the woman read on and on with only the warmth of cocoa and the lulling rhythm of crackling fire to keep her company.