They were friends. They were confidants. They were sisters. And now, they were broken beyond repair. A rift caused that was so deep it had torn them apart. The wounds between them would never perfectly heal. Long, deep scars would remain where friendship, trust, and loyalty once held them firmly together.

The embers in the fireplace burned brightly in the dark, quiet room. Its sole occupant sat huddled near the fire. Trembling fingers swept away the tears that ran quickly down her skin. Shivering beneath the blanket, she drew in long, deep breaths to calm the ache in her chest. The despair burned deep within her heart, settling permanently to hollow out pleasure and zest.

Void of all emotions, she sat expressionless while staring into the crackling sparks that tore the room's occupant apart. How could something so ordinary hold more characteristics of life than they did? She sat detached and dejected - favoring solitude over company.

Life throws obstacles to overcome, but now they just felt like rocks bruising and tearing any foundation she once stood upon. She built herself – her life – around the girl she once held dear. She learned how to laugh and how to trust with her friend. Now, she learned how to cry. To feel immense sorrow pouring down - washing away any memory once treasured, now lost - washed through the masses of pain, reminders of memories begging to be forgotten. Every smile, every laugh, every hug now only brought tears, pain, and loneliness.

Her actions were not her own. Controlled by another's hatred, she was robbed of her perfect life and thrown into the pits of hell. Darkness swam around her. All she saw was black - shadows of the life passing by her. She was degraded by contempt and forced into another's ill will, then thrown back into the freedom life granted. But, all she was met with was the hesitant distrust of those around her. All she felt was death. Not her own, but instead the semblance of hope she once held close. Her friend wasn't returning from the depths of destruction. The string that once held together was cut and fell unrestrained from her grasp, their silver lining lost. With her friend truly gone, she wallowed softly by the fire.

This endless turmoil was undoubtedly her fault. She continuously blamed her own transgressions as the start of this destruction. Caught up in her own affairs, she failed to notice her friends' downward spiral. An extra minute spared, another conversation held, and maybe this path could have led to a different destination. Now they sat on opposite sides, thrones of good and evil, and there was no turning back.

Cold malice lined her friend's features while she stood with hands of luxury. Their positions altered in the darkest days. Now nothing but despair lingered in the distance held between them. And nothing but despair would ever come between them again.

The door to the chambers opened. The noise emitted was the only sound aside from the crackling embers in front of her. The scuffle of clothes being thrown on the bed was heard, but ignored. Feet shifted momentarily before walking tentatively toward where she sat. Arthur sat down next to the queen on the cold, stone floor and wrapped his strong arms around the fragile girl before him. It was not the first time the king comforted his queen in regards to Morgana's departure, but it was the first time Gwen realized the full extent of Morgana's actions. She clung desperately to his shirt and pulled herself in close to his shoulder as more tears cascaded down her cheeks.

"She's gone, Arthur." She cried. "She's really gone."

"I know." He whispered in return. His eyes cast sorrowfully towards the fireplace.

She pulled back and looked him in the eye. Unbothered to wipe the tears from her face, her lips still trembled. "What do we do?"

The King took a long, deep breath while he searched for an answer, but he ultimately ended up sighing when he reached no conclusion. His voice was hushed. "I don't know."

For hours the fire burned. It was well into the night when the broken, rotted wood simply glowed a deep red hue. Both royalties remained huddled on the ground, unwavering and unspoken. They simply sat and watched as ashes were formed and memories were burned.