A/N: Little one-shot that was inspired by both Camelot and Merlin, please let me know what you think! :)

Morgana sat on an old, wooden stool looking out of the window at the gloomy woodland that surrounded her small hut. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the table in front of her. She was cold. It was nearing the midwinter and she was stuck in this damp shack with no-one for company. No one except the empty silence and echoing of the forest. Sighing, she closed her eyes, imagining herself on her father's throne with the warm fire blazing in the middle of the room.

'This is not how King Uther's daughter should be living,' she thought angrily. 'Even if he hates me because of Igraine.'

Igraine was the person who had destroyed her almost perfect life when she was a young girl. Morgana could clearly remember the day that her father had murdered her mother so he could have Igraine for his wife.

She'd been in her mother's room with her, sewing. Her mother had loved embroidering and would sit there with a smile on her face as she patiently watched Morgana attempting to learn it.

That time she'd managed to embroider a red-breasted robin onto the cloth. She had given it to her mother as a gift.

"It's beautiful, Morgana. Thank you." She'd hugged her and gone to put it on her dressing table. At that moment they'd heard footsteps approaching. Both had stared at each other, fear filling their eyes.

"Quick! It's your father. Get in the wardrobe. You're supposed to be out riding," her mother had hissed. Obediently Morgana had squeezed herself in-between her mother's gowns. It had smelt strongly of lavender. Her mother's favourite scent.

She had watched through the keyhole as her father had entered the room and approached her mother. He'd gone to kiss her. She'd seen the glint of the knife too late to give any warning but managed to stifle her screams since she was already grasping a gown to her face. Then the world had gone black.

Morgana's fist closed around the dagger on the table as she thought of how she'd been treated after her mother's murder. King Uther had sent her to a nunnery to be disciplined by the abusive nuns for the last ten years. Ten years of endless punishments and not enough to eat. Having her father's temper, she's spent most time locked in the quiet room. Alone.

She'd come back recently after it had burned down. She hadn't dared to visit her father and had taken up residence in this deserted hut.

However tonight was the time for her revenge. She smiled as she ran the plan through her mind. He'd be sorry…

She stood up, clutching the dagger, the jewels digging painfully into the palm of her hand. Yet, she didn't seem to notice, pulling her hood over her head and walking into the black night.

Manoeuvring through all the guards, she made her way through the town and up to the castle, an invisible spectre. Once inside, she went straight to her father's bedchamber and wandered around, inspecting it, opening drawers and raking through cupboards. Her fingers were lingering over a locket she was sure had belonged to her mother when she heard the door open and her father stop in surprise.

"Reveal yourself!" he commanded. Morgana, not even flinching, turned around and lowered her hood. She watched as he started, stepped back. "Morgana?" he breathed in shock before toughening up. "You are not welcome here. Go!"

She ignored him. "You killed my mother. I watched you." She stepped closer, the blade concealed under her cloak.

"Go! Before I call the guards," he warned, his brown eyes flat and unfriendly.

She stepped forward again. "You. Killed. My. Mother," she repeated and looked into his eyes as she plunged the dagger into him. His eyes bulged, yet he made no sound. She stayed until he fell. Dead. Then she went, like a shadow in the night.