Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arthur had stood before Morgana’s door, hand raised to know, for what felt like eternity. What was he even doing here? The last time they had seen each other he had been nearly dead and unable to response, and then he had watched as Merlin had run her through with Excalibur. What do you say to the sister you once loved, before she turned on you? Before you spent years trying to kill each other, and succeeded? And yet, he couldn’t walk away. He had to talk to her, no matter how painful the conversation might turn out to be. He wouldn’t risk losing her a second time. He didn’t think he’d be able to survive that kind of heartbreak. He hesitantly brought his hand down on the door, knocking softly. Once, twice.

“Come in.”

Arthur gently opened the door, only to remain close to it. Surprise hushed over Morgana’s face, followed by grief. She quickly turned around, evading his prodding gaze.

“What do you want, Arthur? I thought you were ill.”

“I came to talk.“

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t speak.

“You were… different, this evening.”

“Different? You’re as eloquent as always, Arthur.”

She strode toward the window, getting as much space between them as her rooms allowed. Arthur pressed on.

“You were distant, reserved. You refused to meet my eye, still do. And if you did look at me - if I didn’t know better, I’d say it might have been grief in your eyes, and guilt.”

Morgana’s shoulders tensed further, yet she remained silent, gaze directed outside on the courtyard, while not registering anything at all.

“You know, I always thought of you as a sister. I know I wasn’t great in showing my affections, but I always hoped I’d be someone you could confide in. Someone you could trust. I certainly trusted you.”

Still, Morgana refused to face him or break her silence, or correct his past tense. It was confirmation enough for him. She remembered. So he decided to press on, to get those thoughts off his chest that had plagued him for the last years and refused to let him sleep.

“I know I failed in showing you that. I failed to protect you from father, I didn’t nearly stand up enough to Uther even when I knew he was wrong. I left you alone, frightened, facing fears and dangers I can’t ever imagine. In that, I betrayed your trust. You were battling with demons I can’t begin to comprehend, had to life in fear of the pyres for no other crime but simply existing.

But was it enough to justify what you did? Did my failures justify the death of hundreds of innocents, the safety and freedom of Camelot? Your quarrel was with me, and Uther, what gave you the right to pull our kingdom into it? Where did I fail so spectacularly that you’d rather turn to a woman you didn’t know, who only abused you for her own revenge, than to confide in me when you realised you had magic? What happened to the woman who scolded me for going hunting and trying to mend a broken heart with killing, that she was willing to do the very same?”

“She died the moment Merlin tried to kill me.” Morgana’s voice was full of pain and anger, of restricted hurt. Her eyes showed the same emotions as she finally turned around and met his gaze.

“I was scared, alone with my powers and no clue how to control them, and one of the only people I thought I could trust, who knew about my magic, who had promised to help me and to protect me, chose to poison me. I was innocent, back then. And yet he decided to kill me, instead of trying to find another way, or tell me what was wrong. I had trusted him, had trusted you, and you betrayed me, when I hadn’t even given you a reason for that. Morgause might have used me, but she was the only one who saw me as who I truly am, and didn’t back away. She still loved me, with all my failings. She was my sister, and Merlin killed her. And then he killed me.”

“And I am your brother and yet you tried to kill me. And in the end you succeeded. I died, Morgana, we both did. We died in a stupid war of our own making, that had cost us everything we ever loved or believed in. And Merlin did what he thought was right. You really think he’d have poisoned you if there had been another way, however slim the chance of success, to undo the curse? If you do you don’t know him at all. You were his friend as well as mine, as well as Gwen’s, and your betrayal hurt him as much as me. I can’t fault you for things out of your control, for your magic and for turning to the only person you felt save around, it’s true. But you can’t fault him for what he did to protect Camelot, to protect me.”

“You always defend him, don’t you? No matter what he has done, no matter how he lied to you. No matter that he killed me. He betrayed you as well as me.”

It took Arthur a moment to answer. She had struck a nerve. But he had come to terms with Merlin’s magic, in his last few days, in today’s brooding.

“I know about him now. And I can’t fault him for hiding that from me, either. All he ever did was for Camelot, and for me. I only hope that I get a chance to thank him, and to apologise. To repair the trust that was broken.”

They both knew he wasn’t only talking about Merlin.

“And if his actions towards you left you unable to ever trust him again, you are in your right. But I still want to try. I want to get the sister back I lost before I ever realised that I even had her.”

His words hung heavy between them. When Morgana spoke again, her voice was quiet and thick with tears.

“Why are we here again, Arthur? Is this some sort of cosmic joke, is this the goddess’ way of punishing us for our mistake, by forcing me to face every single one I ever hurt? By forcing me to live with my guilt? Didn’t we pay enough with dying?”

It was heartbreaking to see her like this. To realise that her face only mirrored his soul. They were both marred by their choices. They couldn’t go back to the young nobles they used to be in this time. But Arthur would be damned if he didn’t do his best to mend what was broken between them.

“Maybe this is a second chance. A gift, rather than a curse, to allow us to set things right. To find a way out of this never-ending war. I certainly hope so. And I know that I can’t achieve that on my own.”

“Why are you so calm? The Arthur I knew would have screamed, shouted, thrown goblets and insults, and me in the dungeons. If you remember as well as me, why do you ask me for help? Why do you even bother talking to me, why don’t you just go to Uther and tell him about my magic and get this over with? If you want to change the future, just let him kill me and you’ll stop everything I did from repeating itself!”

“Because you are my sister, Morgana, and I love you! Do you really think I would kill you? That I would let you burn? The Arthur you knew died as well as the Morgana I grew up with. And I died full of regrets, and the biggest one was that I failed to be a king that my friends felt like they could trust. Both you and Merlin were too afraid of me to tell me about your magic, to tell me about anything that was going on. And I think this is why everything went to hell in the first place. And now that I know, I want to be let in. I want to help you figure things out, to prevent you from turning, again. I missed you every single day, Morgana. Yes, there were times where I hated you for what you did. I don’t think I can ever fully forgive you for what you’ve done to Camelot. But I can’t live through losing you a second time, I simply can’t! Not when we have a chance to change things.”

He was crying now. To hell with Uther and all his comments that real men didn’t cry. He needed her to see the extent of his feelings, the sincerity of his request. Morgana’s resolve crumbled as well. She sunk down on the windowsill, staring into the night and letting the tears flow freely. For a long time neither of them spoke.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” The words were a whisper, barely audible over the still unspoken, screaming words between them. “I want to change, I want to undo all that I’ve done, but how? We both killed, and lied, and died. We fucking died, Arthur! In more ways than one, and I don’t even know if I still know how to live. If I even want to live. If I’m not already a monster, unable to crawl back to the light. How could I change the course of history when I can’t even look at myself in the mirror? When I don’t have it in me right now to trust you?”

“If you are a monster, then so am I. And relearning to live with ourselves will take time. If you want, we can start with a truce. No more secrets, no more lying. Trust takes time to build, but I want to be able to trust you again, For you to trust in me. If you are ready and willing to talk, come to me and I will be there. That is all I ask.”

His shoulders sagged at Morgana’s small answering nod. That was more than he could have hoped for. He sent her a small smile in return. “Good night, ‘Gana.” He left his sister’s chambers too fast to see the freshly dwelling tears at the old nick name, yet still slow enough to catch her feather soft “Good night, Arthur.”