no subject

I thought I did. [She's not sure, so much, about her mother anymore. Uther had a way of spoiling everything he touched, of souring it. Sure, he wasn't a wild beast but he had taken her from the little castle over the cliffs she had loved so well and he stormed and raged in a way her father had never. In any case she wasn't his daughter and that was always perfectly clear when they interacted. There was no warmth, no genuine kindness. Just a sort of tolerance that made Morgana sure he'd send her off the second he could.] I mean, I guess I do.

I miss them, at least. I miss being little. [Before everything hurt.]