the stars are crying (for what we could have had) (1/13)
Title: the stars are crying (for what we could have had) (1/13)
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Morgana, any and all other characters
Word Count: 5,072
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this stuff, because if I did ArMor would be canon.
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for all of Merlin series 3
Summary: (The sequel to "you and i are a story that never gets told") This is season 3, the way it should've been. Arthur has lost Morgana, and he is struggling to move on without her. Morgana is learning to master her powers with the help of her sister, but she can't stay away from Camelot forever... Once you set things into motion, everything can change.
Author's Notes: The long awaited sequel! Okay, it's only been a month, but still. Here it is! (Also EW, I hate the new posting layout for lj, this is horrid. I miss the option to use the old layout!!)
Previous Installment: you and i are a story that never gets told
---
It had been over a year since Morgana’s death, and the kingdom was slowly getting back to normalcy. For the first few months, Arthur was under the delusion that Morgana was alive, and nothing could convince him otherwise. He would ride out for days at a time, determined to find Morgana and bring her home, but he never found anything. Eventually Uther had threatened to lock Arthur away in the dungeons if it was what it took to stop the madness. Faced with isolation from his people and his friends, Arthur gave up his quest, albeit begrudgingly. Every time he went on a mission or on a hunting trip, his eyes would still wander, scanning the horizon for a glimpse of her.
But life went on, and Arthur slowly stopped searching.
Merlin went on protecting Arthur and the kingdom, though he found himself wishing Morgana was there more often than he’d admit. It was lonely without someone to share his magic with; but more than that, the whole kingdom seemed so quiet and subdued without Morgana’s spark. Arthur especially.
Though the prince was distant, he still worried about those closest to him. Arthur had refused to let Guinevere be without work, so he found a place for her in the castle. She mostly worked in the kitchens and did some odd jobs for the visiting ladies in the court. It wasn’t much, but it kept food on her table. On a slow day, she had attempted to clear out Morgana’s chambers, but before she could start packing away the dresses, Merlin had stormed in, gesticulating wildly with a look of mild panic on his face, and made her stop. Arthur apparently had heard what she was doing, and he wouldn’t allow it. He never went in Morgana’s chambers himself, but he refused to let anyone change anything in there. Perhaps it was still his fading hope that Morgana was alive, or maybe it was his way of holding on to her memory. Either way, he made it quite clear that Morgana’s room was off limits. Gwen never went in there again.
While Morgana’s room was frozen in time, the kingdom was still moving. Camelot was at war with Cenred’s kingdom, and though no battles had officially been waged, it made everything more difficult. The patrols were often attacked, and without their ability to monitor Camelot properly, bandits ran rampant in the woods. The never-ending activity kept Arthur busy, and helped him to escape his thoughts of Morgana. By the anniversary of her death, he had all but let her go, as hard as it was. He accepted that Morgana was gone and started to move on without her.
And so life resumed. Arthur completed his duties with Merlin at his side and the kingdom healed. Everything went on as normal. Or so they believed.
---
Arthur and a group of knights were out on a reconnaissance mission to search for a patrol that had not returned. Most often they would find only the lone horses and the cold bodies of their men, but Arthur always held the hope that they would find survivors and bring them home.
They had been travelling for almost an entire day, and dusk was soon coming. The knights were on the brink of exhaustion, but Arthur was determined. They rode deep into the woods, the trees blocking out the last vestiges of sunlight and leaving them immersed in darkness.
Merlin considered speaking up and warning Arthur against continuing on the mission, but he knew that there was no use talking to the stubborn prince once he had set his mind to something. There was a heaviness to the air, though, and Merlin could sense the change in the wind. He could feel his horse twitch beneath him and knew that the animals felt it as well. Something was coming.
Before Merlin could comment, the trees began to rustle. The horses stomped anxiously and reared, throwing several knights from their saddles. Arthur dismounted from his horse just in time to greet the flood of bandits that swarmed them from the woods.
The bandits easily overtook the tired knights, killing or incapacitating all of them in minutes. Arthur fought harder and longer, but he was outnumbered and losing the upper ground. Merlin had tried to help with magic when Arthur wasn’t looking, but he too was struggling. One of the larger bandits came and grabbed Merlin and threw him roughly against a tree, leaving the boy unconscious in a heap on the ground. Without the warlock’s help, Arthur was truly alone in the fight.
The prince was never one to quit, and he continued to attack and kill as many bandits as he could, but it wasn’t enough. One of the men swung a heavy mace through the air and it connected with Arthur’s back. The force of the blow brought Arthur stumbling to his knees, and his lost his grip on his sword. His vision blurred, the images swimming across his eyes and he grabbed blindly in front of him, trying to reclaim his weapon.
The largest of the men came and pressed the heel of his boot down on top of Arthur’s fingers as the prince groped around in the leaves. Arthur groaned from the pain, biting down on his tongue to try and distract himself from the cracking sound of bones in his hand.
The man standing on Arthur’s fingers cackled, the voice reverberating off the trees. “The mighty Prince of Camelot. Not so mighty now.” He released Arthur’s fingers and motioned to two other men. They obediently walked over, each one grabbing one of Arthur’s arms and pulling them back to restrain him, leaving him on his knees. “King Cenred has put a price on your head. He didn’t specify whether he wanted it attached or not.”
As he regained his cognizance, Arthur struggled against the hold on his arms. “You will regret this,” he warned.
The man unsheathed a large sword from his belt, smiling. “No, I don’t believe I will.”
Arthur could feel his heart hammering as though it were in his throat. He desperately looked over at where Merlin lay, hoping for a miracle. He was not afraid to die, but this should not be his end, not now. He thrashed harder, but his captors were strong, and his body was growing sore.
The bandit in front of Arthur lifted the sword, preparing to bring it down on Arthur’s neck.
Arthur shut his eyes, listening to the slight swish of the metal cutting through the air, mentally steeling himself. He counted the seconds, waiting for the cold bite of steel on his neck.
The pain never came, and the sound of the sword had vanished, replaced with a stuttering gasp. Arthur lifted his head, examining his would be executioner. The man was gasping for breath, his face tinged with blue. He dropped the sword, bringing his hands up to pull at an invisible force around his neck. With a loud crack, his head spun round, and the struggling stopped.
The forest was quiet for a few agonizing seconds, save for the resounding thump of the body hitting the earth. The other bandits exchanged worried looks, none of them able to decide whether to stay or run.
Suddenly, the men holding Arthur were violently ripped away from him, their arms falling away like water as they flew through the air. Before they had even landed, the rest of the men were airborne as well, all radiating backwards, away from Arthur.
As the leaves settled and the dying men fell silent, you could still hear the air crackling with power. Arthur remained stationary at first, taking in his surroundings. Someone had just saved his life, and judging from the level of magic he had witnessed, they were strong, and possibly dangerous. Something rustled nearby, and Arthur immediately picked up his fallen sword with his good hand. He found Merlin slowly waking and went to him, lifting the boy up to his feet.
“What happened?” Merlin mumbled.
In a hushed voice, Arthur replied, “There is someone here.”
Merlin surveyed the damage done, and felt the residual effects of magic around him. There was something so familiar about the feeling, it was strange. He could’ve sworn he had felt it before… “No,” he whispered. “It can’t be.”
The soft sound of something connecting with the dirt distracted Arthur from Merlin’s odd behavior. The sound had come from up on the hill, and he climbed it quickly, not thinking of the consequences.
Reluctantly, Merlin followed, his head screaming at him. “Arthur,” he called, trying to slow the prince.
Arthur didn’t listen, and soon he had reached the top of the hill. In front of him lay a body, and for a second, a cold chill washed over him, shaking his bones.
“Don’t,” Merlin tried, but it was too late. Arthur had knelt down and turned the body over on its back, revealing its face. The resulting intake of breath from Arthur was enough to prove Merlin’s theory.
Arthur fell back from his crouch, landing in the dirt as he scrambled away. His broken fingers were forgotten as he pulled himself across the ground, trying to escape the shock. A short sob pushed it way out of his chest as he stopped moving. The forest was completely silent as the name escaped him, his voice cracking on the syllables.
“Morgana.”
---
Morgana woke screaming for the first time in nearly a year, her body soaked with sweat. It was a week before the encounter in the forest, and she was still safely hidden away on the Isle of the Blessed.
Her ears were still ringing from the force of her own screams, the nightmare fresh in her mind. Ever since she had begun to master her powers, her dreams had been less frequent and nowhere near as severe. Until now.
She had been working with Morgause and she had become so much stronger; her control of her powers was something to be envied, according to her sister. She was well on her way to becoming a High Priestess, but that would take more time and practice. Morgana wanted to please her sister, but part of her still longed for Camelot, even if being there would mean she would have to repress her true nature and live a life of fear. Truly, she only missed one thing. Arthur. That was why this nightmare shook her so much, she hadn’t seen his face clearly in so long, but it had been the most vivid thing in her dream. He was going to die, she had seen it. She saw those blue eyes closing for the very last time, and the terror she had felt was enough to make her forget all her reasons for staying away from him.
By the time Morgause came in to check on her, Morgana had already packed up a few supplies and readied a boat to take her to the mainland.
“Where are you going, Morgana?”
Morgana was accustomed to her sister sneaking up on her, and she didn’t even bother to turn around. “I had a dream. Arthur is going to die, and I have to stop it.”
Morgause shook her head. She had expected something like this was going to happen. “You’re not ready, Morgana. We have a plan, remember? I have almost convinced Cenred to join us, if you only wait a bit longer-”
“I have to go now.” Morgana interrupted. “It’s going to happen soon, I can feel it.”
On a sigh, Morgause pleaded, “Morgana, be reasonable. You cannot simply throw away everything we’ve worked for.”
Morgana tied her cloak around her shoulders, keeping her back turned to Morgause. “I cannot let him die. If he dies, nothing else matters.”
Morgause scoffed at her foolish sister. “Come now. He is a Pendragon, he is part of what we are fighting against.”
“I won’t quarrel about this with you, sister.”
“And what happens after you save him? Do you honestly think you two will get to live happily ever after?” Morgause’s words were dripping with condescension.
“I don’t know,” Morgana admitted. “I just know I have to save him.”
“You left him to think you were dead, sister. He won’t welcome you back with open arms after that,” Morgause argued. “But he will tell his father, and as soon as Uther knows you are alive, you are at risk of his wrath.” Her tone softened as she continued, “Do not do this. You are not ready to fight him yet.”
Pulling her bag over her shoulder, Morgana countered, “I don’t want to fight anymore. I stayed here so that I could be free to be myself, but what does that matter if I’m alone?”
“You’re not alone-”
Morgana whirled around, facing her sister. “But I am. We sit here doing spells and making plans, but neither of us is happy.”
“I will be happy when Uther is no more.”
“Perhaps. But I am still going.” She stepped into the boat and prepared to push off the shore.
“Sister, please,” Morgause begged.
Sighing, Morgana glanced back at her sister. “I only wish to save him. I will try my best to go unnoticed.”
Morgause smiled and watched her sister go; she knew that a new plan would be necessary now.
---
Morgana slowly awoke to the feeling of a rocking rhythm under her and the solid weight of something familiar against her back. She opened her eyes and realized she was on a horse, and there was another rider holding her up in the saddle. Paralyzing fear shot through her veins as she recognized the view in front of her. She was being taken to Camelot.
She hadn’t planned for this. Despite her fight with her sister, she hadn’t actually wanted Arthur to see her. Her plan was to save Arthur and leave, but the amount of magic required to take out all the bandits had been more than she expected. On the Isle, she was constantly surrounded by the presence of magic, and it made it easy for her to practice. On her own, the spells had been too much, and she had fainted from exhaustion.
Closing her eyes, she tried to feign sleep once more, unable to face reality just yet. She could feel a strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright. The warmth from the hand pressing against her stomach was keeping her awake, and the scent surrounding her was causing her neurons to rapidly fire. Arthur. It was Arthur holding her. She was going to have to face him, and the idea was terrifying.
The castle loomed in front of her, as did her uncertain fate.
---
As soon as she arrived in the city, everyone seemed to be staring. It was as if an explosion had gone off, and no one could take their eyes away. Everyone knew of her return within the hour, even though no one had said a word. Including Arthur. He hadn’t spoken to her once. He set her down carefully on the ground and walked away without a glance. It was Merlin who took her to see Gaius, and Merlin who helped her up to her bed.
The physician confirmed that she was in good health, and after a few tests conducted by Merlin, it was decided that she was in fact, herself, and not someone masquerading around with her face. All the scrutiny was uncomfortable, but she allowed it. It was better than facing Arthur’s silence, plus it gave her time to come up with a convincing cover story. She was kicking herself for not planning it out before, but she had always been quick on her feet.
After a few hours of rest, during which she seriously contemplated climbing out the window, she went to see Uther.
The king put on a big show, acting as though he had missed her more than anything in the world. It made Morgana nauseous, but she endured. She told a tale of washing up on foreign shores and being healed by strangers. Apparently, she explained, she had been on the brink of death, and if it hadn’t been for the people who found her, she would never have reawakened.
Uther remained quiet, and it was unclear if he was saddened by her tale, or suspicious.
Morgana continued on, explaining that on her perilous journey home, she had been captured. According to her story, she had been taken and kept under lock and key for months, until she finally found a chance to escape. The tale was all quite dramatic, and she found herself wrapped up in the lies. She even managed to cry a few tears over it.
By the end, Uther seemed satisfied, and he welcomed her home. Morgana gave him a saccharine smile and left, praying that her story would be enough to keep him from digging deeper and figuring out the truth.
---
Her first days back were filled with happy faces and pushy inquirers, everyone desperate to hear her story of revival from the dead, though some hid it better than others. They all gave her warm embraces and offered her a listening ear, but none of them truly cared. Outside of the constant questioning and showering of condolences, Morgana was completely alone. She had expected something so different of her homecoming. Other than the curiosity, no one wanted to see her, or talk to her. Merlin was distant, no doubt from his residual guilt, combined with a healthy dose of wariness. Gwen was quiet and reserved, and when Morgana would try to talk, the maid would almost jump out of her skin before making some excuse to leave. It was as though Morgana had never come back to life, and she was simply a ghost in the castle. She frightened people now, it seemed. And the one person she had hoped would be immune to the strange effects was actually the worst of them all.
Arthur hadn’t come to see her, he wouldn’t talk to her; he couldn’t even look at her. It didn’t make any sense. She knew he would be surprised, but to completely freeze her out? After four days of it, she started to lose hope.
Shoving her belongings into a bag, she mumbled to herself, “I should’ve stayed away.” She could practically hear her sister’s taunting laughter in her ears. This was a horrible decision; there was nothing left for her here.
As she turned to pick up her cloak, she caught sight of someone standing at the foot of her bed. Her hand flew to her chest as she gasped, and the cloak slipped from her fingers.
The figure didn’t move, despite Morgana’s display.
Morgana moved closer, trying to figure out what was happening. Perhaps she was dreaming. “Arthur?” she questioned.
“You were going to leave,” he muttered. His voice was cold and his face shuttered. It was clear that he was struggling.
Swallowing, Morgana replied, “I was considering it.”
“Why?” The one word was heartbreaking, and Morgana flinched at the sound.
“I don’t know. It just… it doesn’t feel right,” she admitted.
Arthur nodded slowly, processing her answer. “Don’t,” he returned. Having said his piece, he spun on his heel and walked to the door.
Before Morgana could say anything else, he was gone. She collapsed onto her bed in a heap, the bag filled with her things now forgotten.
---
Morgana watched the sun sink over the trees through her window. The town was still bustling, but it was obvious that the day was slowly winding down. She had stayed here for Arthur, but her mind kept thinking back to her sister. Morgause must have known this was a possibility, but Morgana still felt bad for leaving her like this. They had been so close, and she gave it away just to come home to a lonelier existence than before.
Unexpectedly, there was a knock at her door. She padded across the floor in her bare feet, the waning light making it difficult to see. Opening the door, she revealed Arthur standing there, looking contemplative.
“Arthur, what is it?” Morgana inquired. He had only been there a few hours before, when he had made his dramatic exit.
He took a breath and explained, “I need to know what happened.”
“I thought you would’ve heard from Uther by now.” It was clear from her voice that she was nervous; he knew her too well, he would never buy her lies.
“I want the truth, Morgana.”
And just like that, she felt her resolve crumbling. “Come in, Arthur.” She stepped aside, letting him enter the room before quietly shutting the door behind them. “It’s a long story,” she added, hoping he might not want to hear it.
“I have time.” He still couldn’t look her directly in the eyes, even when he spoke to her. He sat down in one of her chairs, waiting for an explanation.
With a sigh, Morgana walked over to him. She couldn’t sit down from her nerves, but she started to tell him the truth. “Part of it was true. I was in a suspended form of life; I nearly died from my wound. It took me a week to fully heal. And when I washed up on the shores of the Isle of the Blessed, someone did find me. It was Morgause. She stayed and watched over me.”
“Morgause,” he spat, and it was unclear if the word was meant to sound questioning or not. Either way, the venom in his tone rang clear, and there was no mistaking his contempt for the woman. In his mind, Morgause had murdered Morgana, and there was no shaking that image.
“Yes,” she replied.
He shook his head in frustration. “You were never captured, were you?”
“No.” She held her breath for a few seconds, bracing herself.
Rising from the chair, Arthur finally gained the strength to look directly at Morgana’s face. “You chose to stay away?”
She knew that he wouldn’t understand. “It was complicated, Arthur. The reasons I stayed away, they made sense at the time, but I promise, I never wanted to. I didn’t want to leave you.”
“Yet you did.” He covered his face with his hand, scrubbing at his eyes as though he was trying to erase the sight of her.
“I was scared. Cheating death like that, it’s something only extremely powerful magic can achieve, and if Uther knew-”
He cut her off, with a stern, “I would’ve protected you, Morgana.” He sounded almost indignant that she didn’t trust him enough to save her.
Unable to hold it in, Morgana laughed darkly. “You would’ve failed.” Dragging a hand roughly through her hair, she ranted, “I was still too green, I couldn’t control my powers, it was only a matter of time before Uther discovered my gifts and had me killed. Even now he suspects me!”
Arthur’s temper was flaring, and he lashed out in anger. “So what was your plan, to never return? To leave everyone to think you were dead? To leave me?”
Desperately trying to justify her actions, she clarified, “I was going to come back. Once I was strong enough, I could have put an end to Uther’s reign and removed him from power.”
His eyes narrowed at that. “You speak of treason, Morgana.”
Morgana’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “There was a time not too long ago when you would’ve welcomed Uther’s death as well, Arthur.”
“It’s different now. Much has changed since you left.”
She let out another burst of harsh laughter. “You would support him? He is a tyrant, Arthur, and he wouldn’t so much as blink before putting a noose around my neck.”
The imagery was enough to make him flinch, but he hid it well, biting down on his cheek to keep himself focused. “At least he has been honest with me. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Her feet were moving towards him before she could stop them. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to him. “You know exactly who I am, Arthur.”
He didn’t respond, but he hadn’t pulled away either.
“You loved me once. You knew me better than anyone.”
As she leaned closer, his mind snapped to attention, and he pushed her back. “That was then.”
Morgana stumbled over her own feet, his rebuffing stinging her pride. She turned away from him as she started to understand. “When you said that things had changed…”
“I’ve changed,” he finished.
The underlying message was glaring at her, and it hurt to breathe. “You don’t love me,” she whispered, choking on the words.
He didn’t answer; he couldn’t.
“You should go,” she breathed, the words too fragile in her mouth.
He did as she asked, her words still weighing heavy on his mind.
---
As morning broke, Morgana found it nearly impossible to get out of bed. She didn’t know what to do next. Part of her desperately wanted to stay, to let Arthur see that she was still the same, but part of her wanted to leave and never return. She had disrupted everyone’s lives, and she could find no reason why staying would be better than leaving. After debating for several minutes, she decided she would see Arthur one last time today. She would ask him for a reason to stay, and if he didn’t give it…
Throwing off her covers, she faced the day. She dressed herself, since Guinevere was nowhere to be found, as usual. It was tiring, having everyone ignore her. Scrapping her plan to visit Arthur, she chose to see Gwen instead. The girl couldn’t possibly resent her as much as Arthur did; she didn’t even know of Morgana’s magic, there’s no way she wouldn’t buy the story of her capture.
Morgana pulled on a cloak and a pair of boots and headed to the lower town. If she was going to stay here, she at least needed her friend by her side again.
The sky was turning a dark shade of gray, and Morgana tugged up her skirts and walked a bit faster, hoping to beat the rain. After traveling down the dirt covered streets, she reached Guinevere’s door. She rose a hand to knock, but hesitated as she heard voices coming from inside. Gwen wasn’t alone, it seemed, and Morgana didn’t want to interrupt, but the sky was growing darker, and she didn’t want her trip to be wasted, so she hovered by the door for a moment, listening.
Gwen’s voice floated through the crack in the door. “Be realistic. She’s back now, and that changes things.”
A male voice followed, “It doesn’t have to, Guinevere.”
“It changes everything!” Gwen shouted.
Morgana felt bad for eavesdropping, but she was curious. That voice, she knew that voice, but the wooden barrier was distorting the sound.
“She left, she made her choice.”
Gwen laughed. “You make it sound like she wanted this to happen.”
The man paused before saying, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my choice too, and I choose you.”
Morgana felt the sting of a raindrop on her neck, and it startled her. She jumped slightly, knocking her shoulder into the door. The door swung open from the push and revealed the couple inside. Morgana was prepared to apologize for barging in, but the words stuck in her throat. She had thought that voice was familiar.
Arthur was standing there, his arms wound around Gwen’s back. Gwen had the decency to look ashamed at being caught, but Arthur’s face was unreadable.
Morgana’s shock slowly wore off, and her lips dropped into an angry frown. She stepped backwards into the doorway, letting her anger take over to repress her pain. “Well, this clears things up, doesn’t it?” she asked bitterly, the question directed more to herself.
Arthur dropped his arms as Gwen tugged away from him. He mumbled, “Morgana…”
Scoffing at his lame attempt, Morgana moved out further into the rain. She shook her head, unable to say anything else for fear that she’d lose her tenuous control of her emotions if she spoke.
Arthur tried to follow her, his body finally catching up to his overloaded brain. “Morgana,” he tried again. “Wait.”
Morgana was getting drenched as the clouds burst above her, her clothes sticking to her skin, but she kept moving back. As Arthur neared the door, Morgana lifted a hand and slammed the door shut with her magic, locking it with an invisible seal.
“Morgana!” Arthur started banging on the door from the inside, but his cries were muffled by the rain. “Morgana!”
Morgana started running through the streets, ignoring the ongoing screams from Arthur. The rain continued to pour, and her boots splashed mud all over her dress as she ran. She found herself at the stables and grabbed a horse without thinking. She jumped on the horse bareback, too upset to bother with a saddle. She rode for hours, with no clear direction in mind; she just watched the trees fly by in a blur as the rain clouded her eyes.
After riding at a breakneck pace for an extended amount of time, the horse eventually stopped from exhaustion. Morgana slid off its back and landed on the ground, surveying her surroundings. She was at a lake, and there was a boat at its edge. It seemed that in her desperation, she had ridden back to her sister without even realizing it.
Once the horse was securely tied up, Morgana got in the boat and rowed it out to the isle. As soon as she reached the shores, she jumped out of the boat and ran up to the tower, calling out for her sister. “Morgause!”
The blonde descended from the stairs, looking gorgeous in her red gown. In comparison, Morgana looked haggard, with her wet hair and ruined clothes.
Morgana blurted, “You were right.” She shook her head, the raindrops falling off her curls as they moved.
Morgause cocked her head, but kept quiet.
“What’s our plan now?” Morgana asked. She was done with Camelot and everyone in it. She had no reason to care for them, she just wanted revenge.
A smile slowly graced Morgause’s lips, the small movement wrapped up with a hundred secrets. “You, my sister, are going back to Camelot.”
Next Chapter
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Morgana, any and all other characters
Word Count: 5,072
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this stuff, because if I did ArMor would be canon.
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for all of Merlin series 3
Summary: (The sequel to "you and i are a story that never gets told") This is season 3, the way it should've been. Arthur has lost Morgana, and he is struggling to move on without her. Morgana is learning to master her powers with the help of her sister, but she can't stay away from Camelot forever... Once you set things into motion, everything can change.
Author's Notes: The long awaited sequel! Okay, it's only been a month, but still. Here it is! (Also EW, I hate the new posting layout for lj, this is horrid. I miss the option to use the old layout!!)
Previous Installment: you and i are a story that never gets told
---
It had been over a year since Morgana’s death, and the kingdom was slowly getting back to normalcy. For the first few months, Arthur was under the delusion that Morgana was alive, and nothing could convince him otherwise. He would ride out for days at a time, determined to find Morgana and bring her home, but he never found anything. Eventually Uther had threatened to lock Arthur away in the dungeons if it was what it took to stop the madness. Faced with isolation from his people and his friends, Arthur gave up his quest, albeit begrudgingly. Every time he went on a mission or on a hunting trip, his eyes would still wander, scanning the horizon for a glimpse of her.
But life went on, and Arthur slowly stopped searching.
Merlin went on protecting Arthur and the kingdom, though he found himself wishing Morgana was there more often than he’d admit. It was lonely without someone to share his magic with; but more than that, the whole kingdom seemed so quiet and subdued without Morgana’s spark. Arthur especially.
Though the prince was distant, he still worried about those closest to him. Arthur had refused to let Guinevere be without work, so he found a place for her in the castle. She mostly worked in the kitchens and did some odd jobs for the visiting ladies in the court. It wasn’t much, but it kept food on her table. On a slow day, she had attempted to clear out Morgana’s chambers, but before she could start packing away the dresses, Merlin had stormed in, gesticulating wildly with a look of mild panic on his face, and made her stop. Arthur apparently had heard what she was doing, and he wouldn’t allow it. He never went in Morgana’s chambers himself, but he refused to let anyone change anything in there. Perhaps it was still his fading hope that Morgana was alive, or maybe it was his way of holding on to her memory. Either way, he made it quite clear that Morgana’s room was off limits. Gwen never went in there again.
While Morgana’s room was frozen in time, the kingdom was still moving. Camelot was at war with Cenred’s kingdom, and though no battles had officially been waged, it made everything more difficult. The patrols were often attacked, and without their ability to monitor Camelot properly, bandits ran rampant in the woods. The never-ending activity kept Arthur busy, and helped him to escape his thoughts of Morgana. By the anniversary of her death, he had all but let her go, as hard as it was. He accepted that Morgana was gone and started to move on without her.
And so life resumed. Arthur completed his duties with Merlin at his side and the kingdom healed. Everything went on as normal. Or so they believed.
---
Arthur and a group of knights were out on a reconnaissance mission to search for a patrol that had not returned. Most often they would find only the lone horses and the cold bodies of their men, but Arthur always held the hope that they would find survivors and bring them home.
They had been travelling for almost an entire day, and dusk was soon coming. The knights were on the brink of exhaustion, but Arthur was determined. They rode deep into the woods, the trees blocking out the last vestiges of sunlight and leaving them immersed in darkness.
Merlin considered speaking up and warning Arthur against continuing on the mission, but he knew that there was no use talking to the stubborn prince once he had set his mind to something. There was a heaviness to the air, though, and Merlin could sense the change in the wind. He could feel his horse twitch beneath him and knew that the animals felt it as well. Something was coming.
Before Merlin could comment, the trees began to rustle. The horses stomped anxiously and reared, throwing several knights from their saddles. Arthur dismounted from his horse just in time to greet the flood of bandits that swarmed them from the woods.
The bandits easily overtook the tired knights, killing or incapacitating all of them in minutes. Arthur fought harder and longer, but he was outnumbered and losing the upper ground. Merlin had tried to help with magic when Arthur wasn’t looking, but he too was struggling. One of the larger bandits came and grabbed Merlin and threw him roughly against a tree, leaving the boy unconscious in a heap on the ground. Without the warlock’s help, Arthur was truly alone in the fight.
The prince was never one to quit, and he continued to attack and kill as many bandits as he could, but it wasn’t enough. One of the men swung a heavy mace through the air and it connected with Arthur’s back. The force of the blow brought Arthur stumbling to his knees, and his lost his grip on his sword. His vision blurred, the images swimming across his eyes and he grabbed blindly in front of him, trying to reclaim his weapon.
The largest of the men came and pressed the heel of his boot down on top of Arthur’s fingers as the prince groped around in the leaves. Arthur groaned from the pain, biting down on his tongue to try and distract himself from the cracking sound of bones in his hand.
The man standing on Arthur’s fingers cackled, the voice reverberating off the trees. “The mighty Prince of Camelot. Not so mighty now.” He released Arthur’s fingers and motioned to two other men. They obediently walked over, each one grabbing one of Arthur’s arms and pulling them back to restrain him, leaving him on his knees. “King Cenred has put a price on your head. He didn’t specify whether he wanted it attached or not.”
As he regained his cognizance, Arthur struggled against the hold on his arms. “You will regret this,” he warned.
The man unsheathed a large sword from his belt, smiling. “No, I don’t believe I will.”
Arthur could feel his heart hammering as though it were in his throat. He desperately looked over at where Merlin lay, hoping for a miracle. He was not afraid to die, but this should not be his end, not now. He thrashed harder, but his captors were strong, and his body was growing sore.
The bandit in front of Arthur lifted the sword, preparing to bring it down on Arthur’s neck.
Arthur shut his eyes, listening to the slight swish of the metal cutting through the air, mentally steeling himself. He counted the seconds, waiting for the cold bite of steel on his neck.
The pain never came, and the sound of the sword had vanished, replaced with a stuttering gasp. Arthur lifted his head, examining his would be executioner. The man was gasping for breath, his face tinged with blue. He dropped the sword, bringing his hands up to pull at an invisible force around his neck. With a loud crack, his head spun round, and the struggling stopped.
The forest was quiet for a few agonizing seconds, save for the resounding thump of the body hitting the earth. The other bandits exchanged worried looks, none of them able to decide whether to stay or run.
Suddenly, the men holding Arthur were violently ripped away from him, their arms falling away like water as they flew through the air. Before they had even landed, the rest of the men were airborne as well, all radiating backwards, away from Arthur.
As the leaves settled and the dying men fell silent, you could still hear the air crackling with power. Arthur remained stationary at first, taking in his surroundings. Someone had just saved his life, and judging from the level of magic he had witnessed, they were strong, and possibly dangerous. Something rustled nearby, and Arthur immediately picked up his fallen sword with his good hand. He found Merlin slowly waking and went to him, lifting the boy up to his feet.
“What happened?” Merlin mumbled.
In a hushed voice, Arthur replied, “There is someone here.”
Merlin surveyed the damage done, and felt the residual effects of magic around him. There was something so familiar about the feeling, it was strange. He could’ve sworn he had felt it before… “No,” he whispered. “It can’t be.”
The soft sound of something connecting with the dirt distracted Arthur from Merlin’s odd behavior. The sound had come from up on the hill, and he climbed it quickly, not thinking of the consequences.
Reluctantly, Merlin followed, his head screaming at him. “Arthur,” he called, trying to slow the prince.
Arthur didn’t listen, and soon he had reached the top of the hill. In front of him lay a body, and for a second, a cold chill washed over him, shaking his bones.
“Don’t,” Merlin tried, but it was too late. Arthur had knelt down and turned the body over on its back, revealing its face. The resulting intake of breath from Arthur was enough to prove Merlin’s theory.
Arthur fell back from his crouch, landing in the dirt as he scrambled away. His broken fingers were forgotten as he pulled himself across the ground, trying to escape the shock. A short sob pushed it way out of his chest as he stopped moving. The forest was completely silent as the name escaped him, his voice cracking on the syllables.
“Morgana.”
---
Morgana woke screaming for the first time in nearly a year, her body soaked with sweat. It was a week before the encounter in the forest, and she was still safely hidden away on the Isle of the Blessed.
Her ears were still ringing from the force of her own screams, the nightmare fresh in her mind. Ever since she had begun to master her powers, her dreams had been less frequent and nowhere near as severe. Until now.
She had been working with Morgause and she had become so much stronger; her control of her powers was something to be envied, according to her sister. She was well on her way to becoming a High Priestess, but that would take more time and practice. Morgana wanted to please her sister, but part of her still longed for Camelot, even if being there would mean she would have to repress her true nature and live a life of fear. Truly, she only missed one thing. Arthur. That was why this nightmare shook her so much, she hadn’t seen his face clearly in so long, but it had been the most vivid thing in her dream. He was going to die, she had seen it. She saw those blue eyes closing for the very last time, and the terror she had felt was enough to make her forget all her reasons for staying away from him.
By the time Morgause came in to check on her, Morgana had already packed up a few supplies and readied a boat to take her to the mainland.
“Where are you going, Morgana?”
Morgana was accustomed to her sister sneaking up on her, and she didn’t even bother to turn around. “I had a dream. Arthur is going to die, and I have to stop it.”
Morgause shook her head. She had expected something like this was going to happen. “You’re not ready, Morgana. We have a plan, remember? I have almost convinced Cenred to join us, if you only wait a bit longer-”
“I have to go now.” Morgana interrupted. “It’s going to happen soon, I can feel it.”
On a sigh, Morgause pleaded, “Morgana, be reasonable. You cannot simply throw away everything we’ve worked for.”
Morgana tied her cloak around her shoulders, keeping her back turned to Morgause. “I cannot let him die. If he dies, nothing else matters.”
Morgause scoffed at her foolish sister. “Come now. He is a Pendragon, he is part of what we are fighting against.”
“I won’t quarrel about this with you, sister.”
“And what happens after you save him? Do you honestly think you two will get to live happily ever after?” Morgause’s words were dripping with condescension.
“I don’t know,” Morgana admitted. “I just know I have to save him.”
“You left him to think you were dead, sister. He won’t welcome you back with open arms after that,” Morgause argued. “But he will tell his father, and as soon as Uther knows you are alive, you are at risk of his wrath.” Her tone softened as she continued, “Do not do this. You are not ready to fight him yet.”
Pulling her bag over her shoulder, Morgana countered, “I don’t want to fight anymore. I stayed here so that I could be free to be myself, but what does that matter if I’m alone?”
“You’re not alone-”
Morgana whirled around, facing her sister. “But I am. We sit here doing spells and making plans, but neither of us is happy.”
“I will be happy when Uther is no more.”
“Perhaps. But I am still going.” She stepped into the boat and prepared to push off the shore.
“Sister, please,” Morgause begged.
Sighing, Morgana glanced back at her sister. “I only wish to save him. I will try my best to go unnoticed.”
Morgause smiled and watched her sister go; she knew that a new plan would be necessary now.
---
Morgana slowly awoke to the feeling of a rocking rhythm under her and the solid weight of something familiar against her back. She opened her eyes and realized she was on a horse, and there was another rider holding her up in the saddle. Paralyzing fear shot through her veins as she recognized the view in front of her. She was being taken to Camelot.
She hadn’t planned for this. Despite her fight with her sister, she hadn’t actually wanted Arthur to see her. Her plan was to save Arthur and leave, but the amount of magic required to take out all the bandits had been more than she expected. On the Isle, she was constantly surrounded by the presence of magic, and it made it easy for her to practice. On her own, the spells had been too much, and she had fainted from exhaustion.
Closing her eyes, she tried to feign sleep once more, unable to face reality just yet. She could feel a strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright. The warmth from the hand pressing against her stomach was keeping her awake, and the scent surrounding her was causing her neurons to rapidly fire. Arthur. It was Arthur holding her. She was going to have to face him, and the idea was terrifying.
The castle loomed in front of her, as did her uncertain fate.
---
As soon as she arrived in the city, everyone seemed to be staring. It was as if an explosion had gone off, and no one could take their eyes away. Everyone knew of her return within the hour, even though no one had said a word. Including Arthur. He hadn’t spoken to her once. He set her down carefully on the ground and walked away without a glance. It was Merlin who took her to see Gaius, and Merlin who helped her up to her bed.
The physician confirmed that she was in good health, and after a few tests conducted by Merlin, it was decided that she was in fact, herself, and not someone masquerading around with her face. All the scrutiny was uncomfortable, but she allowed it. It was better than facing Arthur’s silence, plus it gave her time to come up with a convincing cover story. She was kicking herself for not planning it out before, but she had always been quick on her feet.
After a few hours of rest, during which she seriously contemplated climbing out the window, she went to see Uther.
The king put on a big show, acting as though he had missed her more than anything in the world. It made Morgana nauseous, but she endured. She told a tale of washing up on foreign shores and being healed by strangers. Apparently, she explained, she had been on the brink of death, and if it hadn’t been for the people who found her, she would never have reawakened.
Uther remained quiet, and it was unclear if he was saddened by her tale, or suspicious.
Morgana continued on, explaining that on her perilous journey home, she had been captured. According to her story, she had been taken and kept under lock and key for months, until she finally found a chance to escape. The tale was all quite dramatic, and she found herself wrapped up in the lies. She even managed to cry a few tears over it.
By the end, Uther seemed satisfied, and he welcomed her home. Morgana gave him a saccharine smile and left, praying that her story would be enough to keep him from digging deeper and figuring out the truth.
---
Her first days back were filled with happy faces and pushy inquirers, everyone desperate to hear her story of revival from the dead, though some hid it better than others. They all gave her warm embraces and offered her a listening ear, but none of them truly cared. Outside of the constant questioning and showering of condolences, Morgana was completely alone. She had expected something so different of her homecoming. Other than the curiosity, no one wanted to see her, or talk to her. Merlin was distant, no doubt from his residual guilt, combined with a healthy dose of wariness. Gwen was quiet and reserved, and when Morgana would try to talk, the maid would almost jump out of her skin before making some excuse to leave. It was as though Morgana had never come back to life, and she was simply a ghost in the castle. She frightened people now, it seemed. And the one person she had hoped would be immune to the strange effects was actually the worst of them all.
Arthur hadn’t come to see her, he wouldn’t talk to her; he couldn’t even look at her. It didn’t make any sense. She knew he would be surprised, but to completely freeze her out? After four days of it, she started to lose hope.
Shoving her belongings into a bag, she mumbled to herself, “I should’ve stayed away.” She could practically hear her sister’s taunting laughter in her ears. This was a horrible decision; there was nothing left for her here.
As she turned to pick up her cloak, she caught sight of someone standing at the foot of her bed. Her hand flew to her chest as she gasped, and the cloak slipped from her fingers.
The figure didn’t move, despite Morgana’s display.
Morgana moved closer, trying to figure out what was happening. Perhaps she was dreaming. “Arthur?” she questioned.
“You were going to leave,” he muttered. His voice was cold and his face shuttered. It was clear that he was struggling.
Swallowing, Morgana replied, “I was considering it.”
“Why?” The one word was heartbreaking, and Morgana flinched at the sound.
“I don’t know. It just… it doesn’t feel right,” she admitted.
Arthur nodded slowly, processing her answer. “Don’t,” he returned. Having said his piece, he spun on his heel and walked to the door.
Before Morgana could say anything else, he was gone. She collapsed onto her bed in a heap, the bag filled with her things now forgotten.
---
Morgana watched the sun sink over the trees through her window. The town was still bustling, but it was obvious that the day was slowly winding down. She had stayed here for Arthur, but her mind kept thinking back to her sister. Morgause must have known this was a possibility, but Morgana still felt bad for leaving her like this. They had been so close, and she gave it away just to come home to a lonelier existence than before.
Unexpectedly, there was a knock at her door. She padded across the floor in her bare feet, the waning light making it difficult to see. Opening the door, she revealed Arthur standing there, looking contemplative.
“Arthur, what is it?” Morgana inquired. He had only been there a few hours before, when he had made his dramatic exit.
He took a breath and explained, “I need to know what happened.”
“I thought you would’ve heard from Uther by now.” It was clear from her voice that she was nervous; he knew her too well, he would never buy her lies.
“I want the truth, Morgana.”
And just like that, she felt her resolve crumbling. “Come in, Arthur.” She stepped aside, letting him enter the room before quietly shutting the door behind them. “It’s a long story,” she added, hoping he might not want to hear it.
“I have time.” He still couldn’t look her directly in the eyes, even when he spoke to her. He sat down in one of her chairs, waiting for an explanation.
With a sigh, Morgana walked over to him. She couldn’t sit down from her nerves, but she started to tell him the truth. “Part of it was true. I was in a suspended form of life; I nearly died from my wound. It took me a week to fully heal. And when I washed up on the shores of the Isle of the Blessed, someone did find me. It was Morgause. She stayed and watched over me.”
“Morgause,” he spat, and it was unclear if the word was meant to sound questioning or not. Either way, the venom in his tone rang clear, and there was no mistaking his contempt for the woman. In his mind, Morgause had murdered Morgana, and there was no shaking that image.
“Yes,” she replied.
He shook his head in frustration. “You were never captured, were you?”
“No.” She held her breath for a few seconds, bracing herself.
Rising from the chair, Arthur finally gained the strength to look directly at Morgana’s face. “You chose to stay away?”
She knew that he wouldn’t understand. “It was complicated, Arthur. The reasons I stayed away, they made sense at the time, but I promise, I never wanted to. I didn’t want to leave you.”
“Yet you did.” He covered his face with his hand, scrubbing at his eyes as though he was trying to erase the sight of her.
“I was scared. Cheating death like that, it’s something only extremely powerful magic can achieve, and if Uther knew-”
He cut her off, with a stern, “I would’ve protected you, Morgana.” He sounded almost indignant that she didn’t trust him enough to save her.
Unable to hold it in, Morgana laughed darkly. “You would’ve failed.” Dragging a hand roughly through her hair, she ranted, “I was still too green, I couldn’t control my powers, it was only a matter of time before Uther discovered my gifts and had me killed. Even now he suspects me!”
Arthur’s temper was flaring, and he lashed out in anger. “So what was your plan, to never return? To leave everyone to think you were dead? To leave me?”
Desperately trying to justify her actions, she clarified, “I was going to come back. Once I was strong enough, I could have put an end to Uther’s reign and removed him from power.”
His eyes narrowed at that. “You speak of treason, Morgana.”
Morgana’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “There was a time not too long ago when you would’ve welcomed Uther’s death as well, Arthur.”
“It’s different now. Much has changed since you left.”
She let out another burst of harsh laughter. “You would support him? He is a tyrant, Arthur, and he wouldn’t so much as blink before putting a noose around my neck.”
The imagery was enough to make him flinch, but he hid it well, biting down on his cheek to keep himself focused. “At least he has been honest with me. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Her feet were moving towards him before she could stop them. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to him. “You know exactly who I am, Arthur.”
He didn’t respond, but he hadn’t pulled away either.
“You loved me once. You knew me better than anyone.”
As she leaned closer, his mind snapped to attention, and he pushed her back. “That was then.”
Morgana stumbled over her own feet, his rebuffing stinging her pride. She turned away from him as she started to understand. “When you said that things had changed…”
“I’ve changed,” he finished.
The underlying message was glaring at her, and it hurt to breathe. “You don’t love me,” she whispered, choking on the words.
He didn’t answer; he couldn’t.
“You should go,” she breathed, the words too fragile in her mouth.
He did as she asked, her words still weighing heavy on his mind.
---
As morning broke, Morgana found it nearly impossible to get out of bed. She didn’t know what to do next. Part of her desperately wanted to stay, to let Arthur see that she was still the same, but part of her wanted to leave and never return. She had disrupted everyone’s lives, and she could find no reason why staying would be better than leaving. After debating for several minutes, she decided she would see Arthur one last time today. She would ask him for a reason to stay, and if he didn’t give it…
Throwing off her covers, she faced the day. She dressed herself, since Guinevere was nowhere to be found, as usual. It was tiring, having everyone ignore her. Scrapping her plan to visit Arthur, she chose to see Gwen instead. The girl couldn’t possibly resent her as much as Arthur did; she didn’t even know of Morgana’s magic, there’s no way she wouldn’t buy the story of her capture.
Morgana pulled on a cloak and a pair of boots and headed to the lower town. If she was going to stay here, she at least needed her friend by her side again.
The sky was turning a dark shade of gray, and Morgana tugged up her skirts and walked a bit faster, hoping to beat the rain. After traveling down the dirt covered streets, she reached Guinevere’s door. She rose a hand to knock, but hesitated as she heard voices coming from inside. Gwen wasn’t alone, it seemed, and Morgana didn’t want to interrupt, but the sky was growing darker, and she didn’t want her trip to be wasted, so she hovered by the door for a moment, listening.
Gwen’s voice floated through the crack in the door. “Be realistic. She’s back now, and that changes things.”
A male voice followed, “It doesn’t have to, Guinevere.”
“It changes everything!” Gwen shouted.
Morgana felt bad for eavesdropping, but she was curious. That voice, she knew that voice, but the wooden barrier was distorting the sound.
“She left, she made her choice.”
Gwen laughed. “You make it sound like she wanted this to happen.”
The man paused before saying, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my choice too, and I choose you.”
Morgana felt the sting of a raindrop on her neck, and it startled her. She jumped slightly, knocking her shoulder into the door. The door swung open from the push and revealed the couple inside. Morgana was prepared to apologize for barging in, but the words stuck in her throat. She had thought that voice was familiar.
Arthur was standing there, his arms wound around Gwen’s back. Gwen had the decency to look ashamed at being caught, but Arthur’s face was unreadable.
Morgana’s shock slowly wore off, and her lips dropped into an angry frown. She stepped backwards into the doorway, letting her anger take over to repress her pain. “Well, this clears things up, doesn’t it?” she asked bitterly, the question directed more to herself.
Arthur dropped his arms as Gwen tugged away from him. He mumbled, “Morgana…”
Scoffing at his lame attempt, Morgana moved out further into the rain. She shook her head, unable to say anything else for fear that she’d lose her tenuous control of her emotions if she spoke.
Arthur tried to follow her, his body finally catching up to his overloaded brain. “Morgana,” he tried again. “Wait.”
Morgana was getting drenched as the clouds burst above her, her clothes sticking to her skin, but she kept moving back. As Arthur neared the door, Morgana lifted a hand and slammed the door shut with her magic, locking it with an invisible seal.
“Morgana!” Arthur started banging on the door from the inside, but his cries were muffled by the rain. “Morgana!”
Morgana started running through the streets, ignoring the ongoing screams from Arthur. The rain continued to pour, and her boots splashed mud all over her dress as she ran. She found herself at the stables and grabbed a horse without thinking. She jumped on the horse bareback, too upset to bother with a saddle. She rode for hours, with no clear direction in mind; she just watched the trees fly by in a blur as the rain clouded her eyes.
After riding at a breakneck pace for an extended amount of time, the horse eventually stopped from exhaustion. Morgana slid off its back and landed on the ground, surveying her surroundings. She was at a lake, and there was a boat at its edge. It seemed that in her desperation, she had ridden back to her sister without even realizing it.
Once the horse was securely tied up, Morgana got in the boat and rowed it out to the isle. As soon as she reached the shores, she jumped out of the boat and ran up to the tower, calling out for her sister. “Morgause!”
The blonde descended from the stairs, looking gorgeous in her red gown. In comparison, Morgana looked haggard, with her wet hair and ruined clothes.
Morgana blurted, “You were right.” She shook her head, the raindrops falling off her curls as they moved.
Morgause cocked her head, but kept quiet.
“What’s our plan now?” Morgana asked. She was done with Camelot and everyone in it. She had no reason to care for them, she just wanted revenge.
A smile slowly graced Morgause’s lips, the small movement wrapped up with a hundred secrets. “You, my sister, are going back to Camelot.”
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