Her Last Sacrifice
Morgana was broken by her sister's death. She felt empty; unable to think, unable to breathe even, sometimes, without Morgause's presence. The woman who had taught her who she was, helped her finally become who she had always wanted to be. Who had cared for her for so long and, went it came to it, Morgana couldn't even protect. Prophecies appeared to not be the only thing her healing bracelet was powerless against. It couldn't stop memories. The memory of the knife in her hand, the silver gleaming in the moonlight, her hand shaking as she plunged it into Morgause's flesh, and then her last tortured gasp of life. She began to lie awake at night, afraid of her own memory, yet the tears still fell.

Lord Agravaine burst through the hovel door, a night sky hanging behind him, having come at full speed from Camelot after receiving Morgana's message. His heart was racing, a million and one thoughts racing through his mind. She would never call him unless it was urgent news, maybe a raid? She could be in danger? Yet, he was met with the sight most surprising to him.

'You're leaving, my Lady?' His brow knitted in puzzlement as he knelt by her feet and kissed her ghostly hand gently, before she pulled away and began throwing more items in the bag on the table. 'But why?'

'I will be going away for a week or two at the most.' She was cold; she still had not forgiven him for his failure to sacrifice Arthur to the dorrocha the month before. She felt herself sneer, 'Besides, I cannot be expected to work in this disgusting place all the time.'

'But what about this Emrys you speak of? Won't this put you in danger?' Agravaine took a cautious step towards her, searching her emerald eyes for any signs of forgiveness of his earlier foolishness. 'You need to be careful.'

She gave him a withering look, and he shrank back. 'This Emrys is obviously assisting Arthur some way; he will not be bothered by me taking this trip.'

'I do not even know where you are going, how can I be assured?' He grabbed her arm in a rush of panic, his grip enclosing around the lace netted sleeves, and was met with a terrifying glare, her eyes narrowed hatefully, before lips curved into a wicked smirk.

'I never knew you cared so much, my Lord.' She mocked him, yet her voice was lined with ice as she picked up her bag and, brushing his hand from her, proceeded to leave before stopping. 'I will message you when I return. And I would most like to return to good news; the death of a King would be welcome.'

And she left, her long, black cloak slashing the door behind her, it was long after Agravaine heard the thunder of hooves, he realised Morgana had stolen his horse.

Arthur laughed at his uncle as he staggered into the Great Hall late that night, his clothes ragged and mud smeared on his ageing face. The Knights turned to stare as, exhausted, Agravaine dragged himself forward. Servants fetched him a carved, wooden chair and he sank into it, thankfully.

'You lost your horse, Lord?' Arthur was practically choking on his wine as he sat in the feast. Around him, very few could contain looks of amusement.

'No, my Lord.' Agravaine said coldly, attempting to shake off the joke. 'I was attacked and my horse stolen. Bandits.'

Arthur stood up in anger, slamming his goblet hard on the wooden surface. 'Well, we must find them. Knights, I want a patrol of the area. Where were you, Uncle?'

Merlin watched carefully as Agravaine looked away quickly before answering, 'The Darkling Woods, my Lord.'

'What were you doing in there, my Lord?' Gaius asked, his eyebrows raised suspiciously, he'd seen Agravaine's guilty look just as Merlin had. And he already had good enough evidence to doubt all that Agravaine said.

'I was hunting this morning, when I was caught off guard.' Agravaine frowned. 'But there's really no need for a patrol, my Lord.'

Arthur shook his head. 'Nonsense, we will find your horse and the culprit will be punished, I promise you.'