Character/s: Arthur, Morgana
Summary: Arthur was never going to release her.
Warnings: Major character death
Word Count: 348 words
Prompt: #157 Release
Author's Notes: Unbeta'd
“You’re never going to release me, are you?”
Arthur looked with sadly at his sister. His eyes roamed over her face, nearly unrecognizable in its hollowness, covered with dirt and stray strands of greasy hair, and her gaunt body, to finally rest on the shackles on her wrists that kept her chained to the wall. The sight filled him with guilt, but he knew that they were necessary. Without them, she’d escape from the dungeons in no time. On the loose, killing the citizens of Camelot and Arthur himself. Especially Arthur. After a lengthy torture session, probably. No, he could never release her from the iron restraints, no matter how much he wished to.
“I’m sorry, Morgana.” And he meant it. Every day she asked, and every day he gave her the same answer, and he always meant it.
For the first time, however, her voice wasn’t filled with hatred, nor were her eyes full of the fire that promised him a slow and painful death. They were… dull. She almost looked subdued, resigned. Had she given up hope? Hope to be released or to make a successful escape, whatever brought her freedom? It was an unsettling sight. All his life, he’d known her as a girl, a woman, who was driven by passion. Even when the magic had corrupted her, and she’d declared him her nemesis, she would be zealous in all of their encounters. Even imprisoned, locked away for and from life itself, a temper would shine clear in her eyes each and every time he came down to see her. Whether driven by love or hatred, her spirit could not be broken. But it seemed that that was exactly what had happened. The thought filled him with dread.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she kept her gaze locked on his. He tried to convey his regrets silently, but didn’t think he’d succeeded. The last emotion he could read on her face before he turned his back to her, was despair. He walked away.
When Arthur came back the next morning, it was to a corpse.