title: historically inaccurate
characters/pairing: arthur/morgana
rating/warnings: pg; vague reference to character death(s)?
notes: written for the prompt: Arthur/Morgana - all I want is a happy ending.
x
None of it happened they way they said it did. Cendred. Morgause. Mordred.
Camlann.
They got the story all wrong. All glorification and dramatization. All the things they needed to put into books so people would read them. When it came to history, to legend, who would read a happy ending anyway? There would be no loss or longing or lesson in that.
These things were not fairytales. They were never meant to be. And so it was written, twisted and convoluted; they made her his sister and made her his enemy. If the two of them were alive today, they would read the words to one another, lounging on chairs or in bed or over brunch on a Sunday, laughing at them for hours on end.
x
They were never apart, never made of anything but one another. There was no distance, no sibling rivalry, no festering animosity. Instead, there was red and gold and magic in the air, a man and his queen, through time and space, though lifetimes, Camelot to Albion to Avalon, with his hand solid and present in hers all the while.
x
If there was blood and battle and a fight for the land, she had fought by his side, not been the thing he had fought.
They had dressed one another on the morning in armour, touched knuckles to faces and lips to lashes. They'd had no need for luck; that they had in themselves, in each other all along, just as they'd had no need for farewells for they knew, just knew.
And when they went, it was together, her hand in his held tight all the while.