Title: Sister and Brother
Characters: Arthur, Morgana (only mentions of Gwen and Merlin)
Summary: Before they meet fate, they meet with each other one more time, but the time of innocent teasing is over.
Warnings: just some violent mentions and angst
Word Count: 990
Author's Notes: Future Cannon//Just a little piece on how Arthur and Morgana could meet each other again in the distant future because the scene with them in the throne room was electric and profound, love their sibling tension and angst of chemistry
Sister and Brother
“One day…Camelot will be mine.”
She used to tease him, boast, and get him to pout. Deep down he liked it. For she still loved him. Hurt in battle, she would come to his side, tend his wounds.
When there was danger to someone or to kingdom, she challenged him to rise above his father’s ways.
She was strong, determined. All the noble ladies he met, none were like her. They couldn’t saddle a horse, wield a sword like her. Most frightened at the blade, but never her.
There was a softer side also, mysterious, almost frightening. He’d see it in her eyes often, red cracks of misery. She had so many troubles sleeping that ineffective draughts were made up. She’d have a nightmare and rush outside, screaming at him to not go to whatever mission he needed to because he was in danger. And he would feel his heart turn a little at her desperation, her unfortunate foresight. Although gently, he’d restrain her. No one could keep him from his missions.
Especially not now.
He walks just a bit heavier. His hair flows longer. And the scars upon his body are much more profound, like his father’s had been. He treads warily through the vacant halls, Excalibur tight in hand, ready to avenge any foe. But as he comes into the room, filled with webs and patches of light from the barely opened curtains, he lowers his sword.
“Ah, at last.”
She catches some bit of disapproval in his eye.
“Oh forgive me King Arthur for not bowing.”
She kneels at his feet, bringing her head down, mocking him. He watches with brows furrowed. She’s given him a teasing opening to bring his blade down.
“Enough. Rise Morgana.”
She smiles at the gritting hardness of his teeth and the unhappiness of his eyes. “Arthur. Always too easy.”
He lowers his hand. “On your feet Morgana.”
She stares at it for a moment, before allowing the assist. There is so much in his face, dirtied and torn attire, body cut from sword blows.
“Sorry. My guards can be a little overzealous. Just be happy that Mordred is away.”
He sneers at the name. Mordred recently killed his second child. Merlin tried to stop it, but nothing could be done, not even the most powerful magic able to end the death that nearly drove his wife mad. “Why did you send for me?”
She laughs coldly at that. “Did I? Oh, you mean the message from my dear Aithusa. Ah, yes, I guess I did then. I heard she inflicted a little bit of trouble to the castle. How can I pay you back for the damage?”
He steps forward, sick of the teasing games, grabs the woman’s arm firmly, and spits out. “What do you want, Morgana? Haven’t you and Mordred already taken away enough?”
She could use a spell and turn his arm to molten gold before it burned away and his screams filled her dwelling. But she has more permanent endeavors. She and Mordred are seeking a way to make Excalibur come to their hands. For now the sword is so fused into Merlin’s protective magic, if they got hold of it, the sword would boomerang and cut out their throats.
She starts to tease more so he grasps her arm so tightly that they are inches away from each other’s face. “Why? The crown? You want it that badly Morgana, and yet you have no care for the people.”
“I care for people! I care about the Druids! Look how every being of magic has been treated!”
He shakes his head. “I have made peace with the Druids. They fight on Merlin’s side now, my greatest ally, a warlock. When you had control of Camelot you burned people’s houses and killed innocents in the citadel. I never wanted this war with you but you had our father killed, you sent Agravaine against me, and you let that monster MURDER my daughter. So you have your war Morgana. I will NEVER let you get hold of Camelot again. And even though you are my sister by blood, my heart has built a fortress that is closed to you. If I could hate you Morgana, I would.”
She flinches momentarily. The child’s death was an unfortunate ‘accident’. But then she soon whispers into his ear, not one to hold to remorse. “One day…Camelot will be mine and everything will change.”
“The day that happens my blood will curdle and my heart will stop beating.”
“I look forward to it.” She teases.
But he can see it, for he’s always known her, that bit of tension in her face, that touch of hurt and care. He brings his finger across her cheek. “You didn’t have to become THE WITCH to be open about your magic. If you had only trusted in me.”
“You hated magic.”
“But I never hated you Morgana. I would have found a way to protect you. But now that is all changed. My daughter’s death and you became my starkest foe. Goodbye Morgana. The next time we see each other, it will be upon one or the other’s grave.”
She shocks as he suddenly vanishes, then thinks, oh that Merlin and his workings of transference.
He is gone and another enters, bringing down his hood as he smiles with intent.
Perfect. Merlin’s magic will fail. She will have the throne.
And the king will be dead.
But wetness of the eyes suddenly betrays her.
Arthur Pendragon will be no more.
Yet hollow is her cheer.
As hollow as she has made his heart.
The king is cocooned by his friend and wife. He succumbs, letting them tend to his wounds.
But in the back of his mind he can hear it.
The oh so constant teasing.
Only now its innocence is gone.
Only now this teasing will lead to death and change.