Emptiness (Arthur)

[morg]

Tag: Arthur
Timeline: Series 4, episode 3 (The Wicked Day), the day of Uther's funeral
Time of Day: Early Morning[/size]

It was strange how sometimes, the thing you thought you wanted more than anything brought no satisfaction whatsoever. How many times had Morgana envisioned this moment? How many times had she wished Uther dead? And now he was. She had thought she would feel elated, triumphant. She thought she would be happier about it. But from the moment Agravaine had told her about Uther's death, Morgana had been filled with a curious emptiness.

Maybe that emptiness had been there for a while, ever since she'd been cast out of Camelot and lost Morgause. Maybe Uther's death reminded her of a time when she might have cared. She had always thought she'd be at Arthur's side, comforting him, mourning with him, and encouraging him about becoming king. Instead, she was an outcast. Definitely not welcome, not at the funeral, or the coronation.

Which was why it was completely insane for her to be here right now. But she needed to see him, to see the body of the man she had once loved and hated more than any other. Her father. She didn't know whether she just wanted to be sure that he was really dead or if she just needed closure. Like seeing him would make it real, and then she would feel the relief she had expected to feel.

It was very early in the morning, before dawn, and she had managed to distract the guards using her magic, so that she could creep into the city, then into the castle, and finally into the throne room, where Uther's body lay in state in preparation for the funeral. She was dressed all in black and moved slowly as she moved toward the coffin. When she reached him, she stopped, feeling a horrible sick feeling in her stomach. She was not supposed to feel this way. She was not supposed to feel this terrible emptiness. She wasn't sad, and she wasn't happy... she was just empty.

She stared down at his face, wishing she knew something to say that would make herself feel better. But there was nothing.

She turned away. It had been a mistake to come here. There was no closure... Uther was dead and Arthur was just going to take his place--the place that rightfully should have been hers. As she turned, however, the great doors opened. Her eyes widened and she tried to hide, but there was no where to go. She was trapped.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur had spent the entire night with his father, as was customary. He left only to quickly have breakfast, and make sure the preparations for his funeral were set and that there was no obstacle. For the entire night, he just thought. Thought, and felt. Thought of all the times with his father, of all that had happened. Felt, the guilt over being what had claimed his father's life, both in terms of Odin's need for revenge as well as Arthur's attempt to use magic to heal him. His father would still be alive, if it weren't for him. How would he learn to endure such guilt? How could he possibly be king when he felt more alone than ever? It was true he had his friends, his family of heart surrounding him . . . but it made him miss his blood family no less. His mother. His father. Even Morgana. A woman so filled with anger, yet one he held hope for in his heart. He hoped . . . prayed for a time where she would come back to them with peace in her heart.

Perhaps it was foolish and naive, but he couldn't help it. She was his sister, long before he found out the bond was of blood. And now, more than ever, he missed her. Or at least missed the woman she had been. The woman he loved as a brother does his sister. It was still early in the morning, and Arthur had some time before the funeral commenced. The entire night had not been long enough with his father, so he managed to sneak out of everyone's sight and return to where his father's lifeless body was being kept. He knew not how he would overcome this loss, but after today he would have to find a way to suppress it all. For now, Camelot needed a king and he could not let his emotions and pain affect his judgment and ruling. Opening the doors, his head was turned behind him until they were closed, as he wanted to make sure he was not followed or seen going inside. He needed more time alone, a few more moments to mourn by himself.

When he did face forward, he noticed a figure, cloaked in black. His eyes slightly widened with caution, as his hand went to the hilt of his sword that was in his sword belt. It was a woman, that much was clear. "Who goes there?" He demanded in an authoritative voice, prepared to call the guards. Who dared enter this room where his father was, and went so close to his body. As Arthur stepped closer toward her, he suddenly froze. The distance between them was not so great that the figure was unrecognizable. He would recognize her anywhere. For how could he not? His hand could no longer reach for his sword nor drop. He just felt numb, his entire body frozen with shock and . . . other emotions that he could not describe. "Morgana," he finally stated, his voice thick with the same array of indescribable emotions. Shock. Hurt. And yes, fear. Fear for what she was doing here and what she may do while present in the castle. But the foremost tone, was of shock.

[morg]

Morgana froze, staring back at him. She should have just blasted him backwards with one of her spells, maybe knocked him into the wall. It usually didn't take much to knock Arthur unconscious, and there had once been a time when she would have teased him about the frequency of the times he wound up, flat on his back. But she didn't tease anymore. Somehow, she had forgotten how.

But she also couldn't summon the power to throw him backwards. She couldn't even make herself run from the room. She just stood there, her pale green eyes locked onto his blue ones. She should have been filled with anger. She should have been laughing at the fact that he was likely blaming himself for their father's death, when it had really been she who was responsible. Instead, she felt nothing at all. Not anger, or hatred, or even fear or guilt or sorrow. Just... nothing.

It scared her a little. But the loss of Morgause was still a deep wound in her heart, leaving her with a gaping hole inside. With Morgause's death, Morgana was left with nothing... no one to be loyal to. No one to depend on or trust with her life. Yes, she had Agravaine working as her spy... but he meant nothing to her. But here before her was Arthur, someone who had once meant the world to her.

She was used to thinking of him as an obstacle to what she wanted--the throne of Camelot and the ability to bring magic back to the kingdom. But coming face to face with him now, in this moment, when it was just the two of them... it reminded her of simpler times. Happier times. When she didn't feel so empty inside.

"Arthur," she said his name. She had to think quickly, before he recovered from his shock and called the guards to bring her to the dungeon. "I know I shouldn't have come... I--I just had to see... I heard that Uther was dead. I needed to see for myself. I mean no harm..."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was at a loss as to what to do. This was the first time he had seen her, and talked to her since . . . since her betrayal was revealed. He knew of the destruction she had done, and to say that he was done mourning was a lie. He would forever mourn for the sister he had lost. Though he knew in his heart, that there was still hope. Perhaps it was naive or foolish of him to ever hope that they could reconcile . . . but it was there. And perhaps it was that very thing that made it almost impossible to even attempt to kill her. Again, he knew it was foolish for she surely would strike him down the first chance she got. And yet, here they were. Standing in each other's presence, neither initiating the first attack. In fact, he could swear looking at her he didn't see that anger of wanting him dead.

Then again, how could he trust what he saw. For a year she had acted as someone she was not. She had fooled them all. She spoke of how she needed to see that Uther was dead, that she meant no harm. And well, Arthur wasn't sure he could just accept that as an answer. "I find that difficult to believe," he said, gripping the hilt of his sword. He tried to keep his voice strong, stern . . . but he knew that there was hurt in it. Far more emotion than he would have liked. He had lost his father and lost his sister. He had lost the family he had grown up with, and instead found one in the woman he loved and the men he called brothers. And of course Agravaine, whom Arthur would be lost without.

"You made your feelings about our father quite clear when you imprisoned him." When she threatened his life, and who knows how many times had tried to kill him in the year she was was living inside these very walls that she had once called home. "So I ask you again, why have you come here?" To finish them off? To end the reign of Pendragon men? To kill him? But again, Arthur did not fail to notice that she did not yet strike him. Did she wish to gloat first? Mock the situation? Or . . was there a chance that she still felt love for him? The sibling love that they once s strongly shared? Foolish. Yes. Surely it was foolish for him to think so. But he did. And so desperately wished that everything could somehow go back to the way it once had been.

[morg]

Morgana narrowed her eyes at him, watching the hand that gripped the sword. If he drew the sword and came towards her, she could use her magic to throw him backwards and make her escape. She wasn't worried about that. The greater danger would be if he tried to call for the guards. They would be harder to escape, even if most of Camelot's guards had always been a bit incompetent, in Morgana's eyes.

But the way he gripped his sword was so very typical of Arthur. He used it as a threat, even though he probably knew she wasn't frightened by it. There had been a time when she would have made some kind of joke to that effect, reminding him of the time when she had bested him in swordfighting practice and he fell backwards into a pile of manure.

But there was also the fact that he could easily have drawn the sword and come at her... but he wasn't doing that. He wasn't calling the guards, either. He was wary, of course, as he should have been. But he wasn't immediately trying to kill or capture her, either.

And for the first time, Morgana felt something. A pang of--maybe not regret... but sadness shot through her as though Arthur had pierced her with his sword.

It startled her, and she staggered backwards slightly, her eyes widening.

You always were a better man than your father.

That was what she had said to him once. She had meant it then. And could she really say it wasn't true now?

She had been angry with him ever since she'd discovered the truth about her father. Finding out that she was the illegitimate child, swept under a rug and lied to her whole life had hurt deeply, especially since Uther seemed to give all of his attention and affection to Arthur. Arthur was the favored child, the son, the heir, the future king. Morgana was the dark little secret, there to look pretty, but not to speak out or have opinions.

In the beginning, it had all been about her hatred of Uther and her desire to see magic returned to the kingdom. She hadn't even originally been sure she wanted the kingdom for herself, as long as Arthur could bring magic back to Camelot. But learning the truth of her parentage had changed everything. Now she saw the father-daughter bond that had been denied her, the position that had been denied her... all in favor of Arthur. That was when she decided she wanted the throne. Morgause had supported her, encouraged her as she became consumed with hatred for everyone she once loved. But now that Morgause was gone, Morgana felt so empty and lost, and couldn't even summon up the hatred anymore.

She glanced over at Uther's body once again. She couldn't even fully hate him anymore... he was nothing now. She couldn't even feel the sense of victory she had expected to feel once he was dead. She had caused his death by enchanting the charm and giving it to Agravaine to put around Uther's neck. The charm had caused the healing magic of the mysterious old wizard to backfire, killing Uther. And it only now occurred to Morgana that what she had done was make things worse for herself. Yes, she had wanted Uther dead, but was this the best way to go about it? It Uther's life had been saved by the unknown wizard, Arthur might have seen that magic could be used for good, and might have been more receptive to it when he did become king. She'd ruined that chance.

Morgana's eyes met Arthur's again, her chin raised defiantly at him. If not for the coldness in her pale eyes, she might have looked much like the spirited young girl she had once been.

"It's no secret how I felt about Uther. And why shouldn't I hate him? He denied that I was ever his daughter and kept it a secret for most of my life. He lied to me. And if he'd ever found out I had magic, he might have had me killed or at least locked me away in a dungeon forever. I just needed to see that he was dead. I'm glad he's dead. But if I had something else planned, you know I wouldn't have come in alone."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was wondering if this was truly possible. Possible to have a conversation with the woman he called sister. She did not seem to be getting ready to attack him, and he kept a distance between them which demonstrated that he was in no position to advance either, since his form of attack would be with sword but of course with hers, distance mattered not. She spoke of Uther, of his lies, of her hatred toward him. To be entirely honest, Arthur had been hurt by Uther's lies as well. Of course he had. His father had betrayed his mother; bedded another woman. Kept the child a secret from all. Yet with his father dead, he could not think on his lies and secrets. He could only think of the broken man who had hardly spoke a word in this past year. The man who sacrificed his life to protect his son . . . who died in Arthur's arms apologizing for being a poor father when Arthur never doubted his father's love for him. But Arthur also knew that he could not stand here justifying his father's actions, when Morgana's hatred for him was so deep.

It had taken years for that hatred toward their father to manifest and grow. Arthur was not naive enough to believe he could change her mind in the span of one conversation. "He loved you." That was all Arthur could say. Whether it was justification or not . . . Uther loved Morgana. The way he was when he'd lost her, was a clear sign of that. "You never gave us the chance Morgana," Arthur said in an almost whispered tone. Us; his father and him. Though, he could understand her reluctance in telling their father. But . . . "You never gave me the chance." That, was what hurt the most. That she sided with Morgause above him. That she trusted a woman she hardly knew for that time, more than the sibling who grew up with her. "I cannot deny that our father kept truth from both of us. But . . . we grew up together. You were my sister of heart long before discovering our relation by blood."

He paused for a moment, knowing that this conversation was getting far deeper and more emotional than he'd planned. Yet that did not stop him from asking his next question. "Why couldn't you trust me?" What had he done to scorn her? He knew that part of it had to be his fault. Surely, he must have done something to leave her so angry and bitter toward him and his family. To have this sudden desire for the throne. Was it all Morgause? She was a master of manipulation. But no. Morgana was a strong woman. Strong minded, strong willed . . . it was something Arthur always admired about her. She was capable of making her own decisions, she was no ones puppet. So then what. What had caused such a rift between them. He had thought for so long that everything was well in their relationship, when the entire time . . . she had been plotting his demise, as well as Uther's. Were there signs? Had he just been oblivious to them? Could he have saved her?

[morg]

Once again, Morgana felt something stir inside her at Arthur's words. It surprised her, but if she was honest with herself, she would realize that it wasn't all that surprising. Very deep down in her core, that was what all of this was about. Love. Love, and acceptance and hurt.

She'd lost her parents at such a young age. She didn't even remember her mother, and Gorlois had lived just long enough for Morgana to learn about a father's love for his child and to crave it even after he was gone. She'd been angry and rebellious when Uther brought her to Camelot as his ward, mostly because she wanted to be with Gorlois so badly and she was angry that he was gone. She'd been torn between feeling resentful towards this man who wanted to "replace" her father and desperately craving the fatherly affection she had lost when Gorlois died. But she had always felt like an outsider.

If Uther had loved her, Morgana didn't see it. It wasn't like the unconditional love she had received from Gorlois. Morgana always felt that Uther cared for her as long as she "behaved" herself. She wasn't allowed to question his authority, his opinions, his decisions. She wasn't allowed to do what she thought was right when it opposed the laws he'd set down for the kingdom. She still remembered his hands around her throat, his threats, when she helped Mordred escape, or the night she spent in the dungeon for opposing him. If that was Uther's love, then Morgana didn't need it.

"He had a funny way of showing it," Morgana said, hating the emotional tone in her voice.

She looked over at Uther once again. Though he was unmistakably dead, she still half-expected him to sit up and start barking orders at her. She wasn't used to him being so still and peaceful.

Turning back to Arthur, Morgana tried to harden her eyes, but it wasn't entirely convincing. If he looked carefully enough, he'd be able to see right through it. Right now, when it was just the two of them, it was hard to look him in the eye and hate him. He had that look on his face--the one she always said made him look like a kicked puppy. They used to laugh and joke around and support each other. She had cared once. And at this precise moment, she couldn't remember when or why she stopped caring.

This was dangerous. She had to get out of here. She had to get away from him before he broke down the walls she had so carefully constructed around her heart.

So why was she still rooted to the spot?

"What would you have done, Arthur?" she demanded harshly, trying to lash out at him and put him back on the defense. "What would you have done if I came to you and told you I had magic? Would you have turned me in? Would you have told him? Or would you have supported me? All your life, all you ever heard from your--from our father--was that magic was evil. Would you have trusted me?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur had to keep reminding himself that justifying his father's actions was futile. He would not change Morgana's mind about that. But . . . what if there was a way to make her see reason? What if he could remind her of who she was, and that they did not have to be this way. They did not have to be at odds. They did not have to be enemies. That somehow, they could find a way to peacefully coexist. She then asked a question that Arthur had often asked himself. What would he have done. He didn't know. But he knew that knowing she had magic . . . would not have made him love her any less. How could he? He could barley remember a time in his life without her in it. He paused before answering, hearing all her questions . . . hearing her speak of how they had been raised to perceive magic. Arthur had been willing to give magic a chance so many times, but he had only ever seen it used for evil.

"What did I do when you asked me to aid you in smuggling out the druid boy Morgana?" A question in response, to remind her of a time when he had supported her in a way that directly violated Uther's laws. And an instance where magic was concerned. "It is true, that we were both raised to detest and fear magic. But you could have changed that. You had the power to change that." Because there were few people in this world who held that ability. And Morgana was the strongest one. "Instead you turned against us, based on assumptions and lacking faith in how much I care for you." Care. Present tense. Because he needed that hope that she would not wish him dead. That deep inside of her, there was still that caring, compassionate woman. "What have I done to you to make you hate me so much?" Another question that had haunted his mind. Clearly, he must have done something . . . he just didn't know what.

[morg]

Curse him. Morgana felt as though the ice was beginning to crack at that moment. This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't why she had come here. She had wanted to feel something about Uther's death, to allow that anger and hatred to flow back through her in place of the emptiness. She certainly hadn't come here to allow Arthur to chip away at the ice surrounding her heart and make her feel the pain of loss once again. She was still recovering from Morgause's death and now Uther. One still made her ache inside, the other made her feel nothing. But Arthur's words were making her ache again. Curse him. She had to get out of here...

He reminded her of how he had helped her smuggle Mordred out of the city, against his father's explicit orders. She couldn't deny that he had done that... and he had done it because she had asked him to. Maybe he had also done it because it was the right thing to do... but it was mostly because she asked. Unlike Uther, Arthur had never done anything to hurt or injure her. For a while, she had thought maybe he had known about Merlin's attempt to poison her, but now she was reasonably sure he knew nothing about it. But she allowed herself to see him as the enemy anyway. It was something that happened suddenly... right after she found out that she was Uther's daughter, and not merely his ward.

And then she was struck with the simple, devastating truth. It wasn't anything that Arthur had done that made her hate him. It was what Uther had done.

"He loved you more," she answered, her voice shaking. "You were the favored child. The heir. He couldn't even acknowledge me as his daughter. You say he loved me, but he loved you more. He died for you. I don't think he would have done the same for me."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur didn't fail to notice how she averted the subject from him -- from them -- back to Uther, the true source of her anger. Was it because she had no words or explanation to offer him? Oddly enough, that gave him some hope. The hope that he could soften her opinion of him, and thus bring to an end this war against them. One that he never wanted to fight. While he reminded himself of his previous thoughts, in knowing that he could not sway her mind about Uther . . . he felt the need to say something about it, now that it was brought up. "You are wrong Morgana," he stated, specifically in regards to her words about how his father loved him more, and would not have died for her. "For I have seen him when he is on the brink of losing you. When you were kidnapped, by the druids, or missing for that year . . . you did not see him as I did. You did not see how pained he was. How devastated he was." How completely obsessed he had been with finding her. Arthur had been too, however Uther's was far more severe.

"You did not see the tears he cried when you were on your deathbed." When she had fallen and had internal damage that they could not heal or when she had fallen asleep and not woken up until they had found that mysterious healer. "He may be dead now, but his spirit died a year ago." A year, when she had revealed herself as their enemy. "He knew then he had lost you for good, and it destroyed him." Arthur had held the hope that his father would recover . . . but he knew he would never be the same. He knew that in losing Morgana, his heart had broken and his spirit had been permanently damaged. "He may not have shown it as much as he felt it, but he truly loved you." Arthur knew that, and while he could not justify all of his father's actions, he could say such words with sincerity. Though he knew that Morgana may not believe it for her hatred for Uther was far too deep to be eased by a few words.

[morg]

Morgana's gaze darted between Arthur and the door. He was standing in her way and there was no clear way out without knocking him out of the way. She could do it easily enough, but would he call the guards? She couldn't defeat all of the knights on her own, even with her magic. But she had to get out of here, before Arthur softened her completely.

But she still couldn't move. She was starting to shake at this point. Arthur clearly believed what he was saying, but if it were true, why had she never seen it? Uther had only ever seemed to like her when she was acting the way he wanted her to. Then he basically treated her like a mindless doll. But if she opposed him, if she dared to disagree with him in some way, he would threaten her, punish her, throw her in the dungeon... and once, he had even put his hands around her throat. What kind of love was that? Gorlois would never have raised a hand to her, she knew that without a doubt.

"Then why did he try to kill me?" she demanded. "When I helped the druid boy escape, he put his hands around my throat and threatened me! He threw me in the dungeon; he did terrible things to me whenever I dared go against his wishes to do what was right. If he loved me as you say he did, why did he only show it behind my back?"

As she spoke, something seemed to break open inside of her. It was like a wall had broken, and all the emotions she had been holding deep inside began to rage through her. Anger, pain, fear, loneliness, betrayal... it all seemed to rush through her like a river. She nearly doubled over from the power of it all.

"What would he have done if he found out about my magic? Do you even know what it was like, living here with such a secret? You can't understand what it was like, Arthur. You can't know... I had no one to turn to. What was I to do?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur reminded himself of his initial thoughts; that he would not be able to change Morgana's mind about Uther. He knew that their relationship was damaged. That she had been burned too much by his actions. He was devastated by hers, and she had been angered by his. The tables had turned from who felt vulnerable and victimized. Once it had been Morgana, and then it had been Uther. Yet both had felt that hurt for they loved each other. Arthur had to believe that. He knew his father loved Morgana and he had to believe that at a time, Morgana loved Uther too. Perhaps it had faded away but there was a time when his family all loved and cared for one another. Why did he have to believe that? Because if he didn't, then it would mean his entire childhood was a lie. A farce. Feigned. And that, was not true.

She then questioned what he would have done had he discovered Morgana had magic. Arthur had no answer to that question, nor did he have to think of her. For her following inquiries made that hurt resurface. Her words, claiming that she had no one to turn to . . . it hurt. "Then perhaps I cared for you far more than you cared for me. For what was I to you?" A somewhat rhetorical question though he still wanted an answer. "I would have tried to help you. I would not have made you feel so alone in the burden you carried. And it truly breaks my heart that you believe I would cast you away upon discovering you had magic." She was his sister, of heart before their union was defined by blood. "It seems that you do not know me at all Morgana. And that I had misjudged how much you trusted me. How you regarded me." He had thought it was as a brother. And surely, somewhere inside of her, that affection was still there. He just didn't know at what point it had been overpowered by her hate.

"How long will you punish me for the hatred you feel for our father? How long will you punish the kingdom? You resented him for killing innocent people for having magic, yet you opened fire on a group of civilians. What makes you better than him Morgana? For the chance you had to prove it, you instead chose to fight us." She could have shown him how magic was used for good. And instead, had only re-enforced his father's beliefs that magic was used for evil and should be feared. The people had seen what she was capable of, how could they not be afraid of her? Hell, even Arthur was afraid of what she was capable of. But once again, he had to believe that deep down, there was still the Morgana that he knew and loved. She had to be in there . . . somewhere. If only he could help her resurface.

[morg]

Morgana had always thought of herself as the wronged party in this--the one who was persecuted, forced to hide who she was, driven away from her home and the people she had once cared about. What choice had she been given, when she learned she had magic? She had tried hiding it, but in the end, she'd had to fight back, because it was right. That was why she had joined with Morgause, and why she now coveted the throne for herself. She needed to make things safe for her people once again.

But Arthur had a way of turning things around on her. He made her feel like he was the one who was wronged. But how was that possible? He was the one with the crown, the one with their father's love, the one the people loved and respected. They feared her... and hated her. They hadn't always hated her. She had made them turn against her all on her own.

She could see that he was struggling to understand her betrayal. For while she thought she was the one who had been betrayed, the truth was, Arthur knew nothing of Merlin's betrayal. He had no idea that Merlin had tried to kill her. Instead, he saw her as the traitor, because she turned against him without any good reason at all. And when it came down to it, she didn't have an answer. It was just that once that seed of hatred had been planted in her heart, it had grown and flourished, like ivy choking out all that was good inside her. She told herself that she hated Arthur enough times that she had come to believe it.

But it wasn't true. It had never been true. He had always been a better man than his father, and those words were just as true now as when she spoke them all those years ago. No one else could have cracked the thick layer of ice that covered her soul.

"You don't understand what it was like. Every day, it seemed that Uther was going after some one else with magic... or an innocent druid boy.... He made you do his bidding, and you couldn't stand up to him most of the time, even though you knew it wasn't right. I trusted you... it was him I couldn't trust. Would you have been able to keep it from him if I told you? Would you have protected me from your... from our father? I was scared, Arthur... if only you could have let me stay with the druids, instead of coming after me... Maybe we wouldn't be here right now."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Once again, she brought the conversation back to their father. Arthur wanted to talk about them, about their relationship, yet her mind seemed so focused on Uther. On all that he had done, rather than all she had done. "And did I do his bidding when it came to the druid boy?" Arthur asked rhetorically, for they both knew the answer. "Did I not directly disobey him? Did I not help smuggle him out of Camelot because I too believed in his innocence?" All were rhetorical questions. For he had. His father had done much that Arthur disagreed with. When she had been put in the dungeon for committing treason following Tom's death, Arthur had made sure she did not spend more than a day. "You never gave me the chance Morgana. You assumed. You thought the worst of me." He paused for a moment, forcing the tears back.

"I would have given my life, if it meant you stayed safe." But instead of trusting him with such a thing, she had turned against him. For his father's sins. As many others had. He paused for a moment, all other thoughts fleeing his mind when she said that he should have let her stay with the druids. She had gone willingly? She had not been kidnapped? Arthur knew he shouldn't be surprised for much of the past couple years had been a lie between them. But he found himself discovering more and more of just how many lies there were. "You blame everyone then, is that it Morgana?" Blaming Uther. Blaming him. "You blame me for bringing you home when I believed you were kidnapped. When you failed to say otherwise." For he understood why she did so, yet now she was holding it against him? "You blame me for caring about you. For loving you, as a brother loves his sister." It was all blame.

Blaming him for what she had become, when he thought over and over how again what more he could have done to help her . . . when she did not let him. "If that is what you blame me for, then I am guilty. Guilty for wanting you safe. For protecting you. For regarding you as my sister." For at the very least, that was she had been to him. He took a small step back, slightly spreading out his arms, showing that he would not reach for his sword. "If you blame me for all that, if you hate me so much, then do what you must. Kill me now. End this vendetta against the kingdom. Cease murdering innocent people." If she wanted to kill him right here and now, he could not stop her. "But know, that you have isolated yourself. That you can not always blame others for your actions." That she had to take responsibility, yet it seemed she was just so clouded with hate . . . just as his father had been when it came to magic.

[morg]

For the first time, Morgana faltered at his words. It was true; Arthur had defied his father to help Mordred, and countless other times as well. She knew it to be true, and many times she had praised him for it. She'd stopped seeing him as Arthur, the boy who had almost been like a brother to her, and instead as an obstacle in her way, preventing her from having what she really wanted. Only somewhere along the way, she had forgotten what that even was. What did she want? She had started out simply wanting peace for people with magic, people like herself. And now she coveted the crown of Camelot, convinced that it was the only way she would ever be able to free the druids and sorcerers and high priestesses from a life of persecution.

When had she stopped wanting peace? When had she decided that war was the only way to free her people?

She was an entirely different girl from the one Arthur had known and loved as a sister. But deep down, she still felt like the old Morgana was inside her somewhere. Arthur's words made her ache inside, wanting to be that girl again. Was it possible to go back? Could she really mend fences with him?

Arthur thought she blamed him, but the truth was, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't even Uther's fault. She could have opposed Uther without taking it out on Arthur or anyone else. No, there was one person to blame for what she had become, and Arthur had no idea.

"It wasn't your fault. Maybe I should have trusted you, but I was afraid. I trusted someone else... and he was the one who betrayed me. If anyone is to blame, Arthur, it is him. Merlin knew... and he tried to murder me. If not for Morgause, I'd be dead now... and sometimes I think maybe I still am."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur wasn't sure what he was expecting right now. He knew that he could have just provided Morgana with a very tempting opportunity to take his life. But deep down in his heart, he had to believe that she wouldn't. She may tried to have kill him in the past but he prayed that his words registered in her mind. He had seen glimpses of that remorse -- if that was what it truly was. And so he waited, holding his breath as it could be his last. Yet her first words gave him this sudden burst of hope and he could breathe again. She admitted that it wasn't his fault, she presented the idea of should having trusted him with her secret. Yet she had trusted someone else? Was it Guinevère perhaps? No. Guinevère would never betray Morgana. Yet the name she gave was just as impossible. Merlin? No. Surely not. Surely his best friend would not have done anything to betray Morgana. Surely he was not the one who had made her this way.

Arthur found his mind flooded with questions, yet right now . . . it was about them. He would inquire about Merlin later, but he did not want to lose that glimpse of the woman he once knew. The one that he had loved, the one that would never kill him. "You're not Morgana," he said in an urgent tone when she said that sometimes still felt dead. He found himself taking a single step, and then two toward her. "You don't have to be," he added. He knew he couldn't tell her how to feel, but he could offer his comfort. "I don't know what happened between you and Merlin, or you and Morgause." In many ways, he blamed Morgause. If Morgana was scared and fearful of her life, Morgause manipulated that and turned her into her ally. Arthur knew first hand how Morgause prayed on a person's weakness and vulnerability. After all, the priestess had used Arthur's own mother against him.

"What I do know is that you don't have to be alone now." He wanted to end this. Stop this war between them. It may take time to rebuild that trust, but Arthur was willing to try . . . if she was. "I don't understand magic," he admitted. Both he and Morgana had been raised to hate it, and that was all they had known in their childhood. "I have only ever seen it used for evil." With the exception of the druids -- who had apparently not kidnapped her. "Show me otherwise, Morgana. Prove our father wrong. Prove that it does not have to be used for dark purposes. That it does not have to be feared." He needed that. If they were ever to have a relationship again, he needed to understand more of what caused her to be so afraid all those years.

[morg]

Morgana tensed as he moved a little closer to her, and she watched him warily, almost expecting him to attack while she was vulnerable. But no, Arthur didn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that, no matter what she had done to him in the past.

There was the possibility that this was all a trick; that he was trying to lure her into a false sense of security. It wasn’t the kind of thing Arthur would normally do, but it was difficult for Morgana to trust anyone, even him. She’d come so far and changed so much, and if she were in his place, she would not hesitate to trick him in the same way. But strangely, she wanted to trust him. He was probably the only person in the world who could fill the emptiness that had taken over her soul since Morgause had died—maybe even longer. If she was honest with herself the emptiness had begun to overtake her the moment she realized Merlin’s betrayal.

Could she really go back? Could she trust him again; let him in? She wanted to, but after all that she had done, was it too late for her? There was no one in Camelot she hadn’t hurt. Even if Arthur would welcome her back, surely no one else would. Gwen, Merlin, Gaius… she had hurt all of them. At the time, she thought they deserved it. She had been so consumed with anger and jealousy and hatred that she had stopped thinking of them as her friends, the people she used to love.

Arthur might be willing to take her back and forgive her, and maybe Gwen would, too. But Merlin… Merlin was always an obstacle. He had tried to murder her once, and she didn’t doubt that he would try again. The only way Morgana could truly come back to Camelot was if Merlin was gone. But Morgana was sure that, if given the choice between her and the wretched servant, Arthur would choose Merlin.

But his words about magic being used for good struck a chord with her. She had tried to convince herself that, even when she was doing terrible things, she was doing them for a good reason. She was trying to earn freedom for people like her—people with magic. But somewhere along the line, her goals had become twisted and she had started doing things for the wrong reasons. She could tell herself that she wanted the crown of Camelot so that she could free her people from the tyrannous laws against magic, but what had she done when she did have the crown? She didn’t free her people; she turned it around on the innocent citizens of Camelot.

A tear trickled down her cheek and she looked up at Arthur hopefully. “I want to come back,” she said softly. “I want to show you that magic isn’t evil… it doesn’t have to be. I thought I was doing it for the right reasons… I wanted freedom for people with magic. That was all I ever wanted, Arthur. Can… can you give us that?”