A petite, raven haired woman sat up a wooden log, idly playing on a lyre. The meadow around her was covered in springtime flowers, and she did not look up when she heard the beat of thundering hooves approaching from the deer trail.
A lot had changed over the years, and Morgana knew that the man approaching was her brother. Always had she known when he was near. Always had she dreaded the arguments that were destined to occur between herself and her half-brother Arthur. But that time was past and it was time to offer forgiveness. The past could not be changed. The future was more certain now then ever before. Arthur would fall at the hand of his own son, Mordred, who was mothered by Morgause, another of his half-sisters, her full sister.
Ever had Morgause sought what Arthur possessed, the power and the ear of Merlin. In that one aspect Morgana had obtained what her sister sought, an education from Merlin. They had parted bitter enemies, because he could or would not see that his experiment with Arthur’s court was doomed to fail! Merlin had only begun to see when his prophesy about Mordred had caused Arthur to turn his back.
There were so many things that stood in the way of a world where wizard, witch, and Muggle lived in peace together. The Muggles always thought that magic could fix everything. Magic is a force that can have many benefits, but there can be many problems from it, also. Morgana knew all too well the power of prophesy. When she was younger she had tried to deny that the world she had grown up in was destined to fall. Wizards and witches would soon be forced to hide themselves from the Muggle world. She remembered still the words of prophesy that had come to her, there upon the shores of Avalon.
Magic sought and power wrought.
These shores must soon diverge.
Not welcomed to the land of men,
Mere mortals can not comprehend.
The Christian God will not allow
A world that honors the old traditions.
The Goddess weeps of her children’s loss
The round table will be replaced.
The cross will throw down the moon,
And women loose their power.
A solitary Isle must onward move,
Magic to hide from the ire.
Morgana mourned the loss from this world, the old Pagan ways and worship. She belonged on the Isle that would soon be set apart, and though he did not know it yet, so did Arthur. She knew the day was near at hand when Excalibur would be swallowed by the Lake, and Arthur would receive a mortal wound that would be her job to heal. To receive that healing he would have to set sail with her and several other priestesses of Avalon, and live in the magic country there. She hoped that he would find peace there at last.
As the horse slowly crossed the meadow, Morgan felt Arthur’s eye on her. He swayed to the music of her instrument unconsciously. Morgan felt the Stag King that remained within Arthur, clamoring to be released from the prison her brother’s Christian beliefs had ensnared him in. A wildness remained within the now graying man, a youth that would ever remain.
At last she looked up at the man and laid aside her lyre. “Welcome to my lands, brother.”
“At last we meet each other plain, sister.” Arthur responded. “Long has it been since you tried to steal my throne. I never did understand why.”
“I was trying to preserve the old ways. In my youth I thought that ruling was the only way. Now I understand my foolishness. Now I know the only way they will survive,” Morgana replied.
“You speak of Avalon. I hear stories of how difficult it becomes to find. You are a priestess there now, are you not?” Arthur inquired.
“Aye, that is where my magic has led me. I am a healer and a witch who lends my magic to the old ways. Someday you will join me there, Arthur. Someday your kingdom will end, as the experiment of Merlin’s has. Muggles will never live in peace with wizards and witches. The Christian morals will not allow it. Nor will wizards or witches such as our sister Morgause or Nimue. They strive to prove the superiority of those with magical ability. A battle they cannot win. It would be the destruction of all if they succeed. Magic needs to hide itself from the Muggle world. Protect them from their own lust of what magic can do, and to protect them from the likes of Morgause. Avalon will continue to fade, until such a day that only priests and priestesses will be able to find the path, and even they will have difficulty. Take my hand brother. Let us end our trivial battle. I fought for the old ways, nothing more. I fought for women and the Goddess. That world will live on in Avalon.” Morgana offered her hand to Arthur, and then embraced him.
Arthur was taken aback by Morgan’s speech, but understood it all to well. “Yes, our experiment has failed. Merlin betrayed me, and I have but Mordred to inherit my kingdom. I feel a final battle approaching, but for what I cannot see. Let us part as friends. I must return to the hunt.”
“Brother, a battle approaches, and I think you will rue the outcome. The world will snap into focus and what has been will become clear. Fare-thee-well, until we meet again upon the shore of Camlann.” Morgana backed into the shadows and transformed. A raven flew for the shores of Avalon, Morgana’s new home.
