A Morgana Pendragon Story

The End

Morgana was incredibly distressed when Gwen told her the party had left Camelot at first light. She ran to the stables, found her horse and was in the courtyard in a matter of minutes.

    “Morgana, wait!” Gwen called to her. “What’s wrong?” Morgana reined her horse in for a few seconds and looked at her sadly.

    “I’m going after them.” She said, and that was all. Gwen insisted she go too, but Morgana was going to Camlann herself, and knew Gwen would never forgive herself if she saw Arthur die.

    Despite this, Morgana had only gone as far as the edge of the forest when she heard a horse neigh. Turning in the saddle, she could see Gwen trotting her horse towards the castle gates. Sighing, Morgana put out a hand and brought the archway crumbling down to the ground.

    Now they were really off. Morgana didn’t want to push her horse too far, but they galloped through the woods. She had seen in her vision where the plain of Camlann was, and hoped to reach Arthur before it was too late.

    She rode for the better part of the morning, knowing she surely couldn’t be too far away now. In the distance, there were small sounds of horses on the wind. It was all the encouragement Morgana needed.

    They suddenly came out into a sparse bit of land, with hardly any trees in it. They were nearly there. “Come on.” Morgana said to her horse, cantering across the plain. She knew, without a doubt, that they had now reached Camlann.

    The sound of battle reached Morgana before she saw it. Her horse snorted at the noise and refused to go any further, so she dismounted and stood looking over the ridge.

Steel against steel.

Sounds of metal everywhere.

Screams in all directions.

Morgana shook her head to clear her vision away, but even then, she knew it was too late. Saxons were everywhere and it was clear that the Camelot men were outnumbered. She saw two heading for Arthur and used magic to kill them. If anything in her vision didn’t have to come true, Morgana was going to do everything she could to make sure it didn’t.

Men falling, wounded, dying.

The dead were everywhere. Morgana knew she could do no good up on the ridge, so she went down to the edge of the battlefield as fast as she could. But by the time she arrived on the battlefield, it was all over. Taking this in, Morgana blinked the tears away.

Mordred and Arthur walked through the battlefield. Mordred fell and lay dead. Arthur fell...

“No. Please, no.” She whispered, searching the plain of Camlann. It was impossible, so she used a spell to tell her where Mordred and Arthur were. She ran to them. Both were lying, motionless. Mordred was in Saxon armour, but he was dead. Morgana knelt by him, and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mordred.”

    It was then she noticed the sword coming from his body. She frowned, knowing it was familiar.

    Excalibur.

    It made Morgana look round to Arthur, who was also still. But then Morgana moved to him. Barely, just barely, she could see his chest moving, and knew her brother was still alive.

    He had to live.  For her. For Guinevere. For Camelot.

    She knew Mordred had probably fought Arthur because he was a Druid. That couldn’t matter now. Mordred was dead. There was nothing she could do for him anymore.

    “Arthur? Can you hear me?” She cradled his head. “Please look at me!” After a few seconds, his eyes slowly opened.

    He stared at her for a few seconds. “M...Morgana..”

    She smiled through her tears. “I’m here, brother. You’re going to be ok. I know a place where we can go and I can heal you.”

    Arthur smiled at her as much as he could manage. “Thank you, sister, for coming home to us.”

    “Don’t talk, Arthur.” She said, carrying him to the shore. “But stay with me. You’ll be your full self again soon.”

    As she finished speaking, the boat was already there. Morgana lowered Arthur in and stepped in herself. “Avalon.” She told him quietly. “Home.”

    The two Pendragons, brother and sister, held hands, as the boat moved quickly over the sea. They had soon left behind them the horrors of Camlann, and the familiarity of Camelot.

    The mists covered Morgana. She smiled, and looked up at Avalon, as the boat hit the banks of the shore, and knew at last they were home.