title: the sky is falling
characters/pairings: arthur/morgana
ratings/warnings: pg; none. lots of unhappiness i guess?
words: ~600
notes: written for the doomed ship comment ficathon on lj; prompt: Arthur/Morgana, And the history books forgot about us
disclaimer: not mine
summary: She will say that she never asked for it either.
x
One day, they will be legends.
Today, they are small, mere children who were born in the wrong time and place, caught up in an old man's war like thorns in silk. There are years and years of ancient blood and magic behind them, ahead of them, but there is no need for them to know it yet.
x
It does not happen instantaneously but happens nonetheless after that first dream. The knowledge that they are never just dreams anymore cannot possibly leave her the same.
In time, she changes like the seasons, green of spring, red of fall, wispy like leaves, cracked and weightless as they blow with the wind. He stays solid, golden, from arrogant prince to future king, growing taller and stronger, older but not always wiser, and a twinge of pride betrays her.
Countless times, she has seen the stretch of his lifetime flit before her eyes. Still, nothing compares to the real thing in all its vivid colours and intensity, all his laughter and her stifled smiles. She can't laugh when she knows what will come to pass.
One day, this man will wrap his fingers around the hilt of the sword that will change the world as they know it, just as one day, she will set fire to her life as she knows it, begin anew in a place with little light and a lifetime's worth of ache.
(They will both believe themselves to be right, revolutionary in their own ways. Relentless is what they taught one another to be but some things must always end for others to begin.)
And one day, the warlock will confront her, apologetic all the while, and she'll tell him to do it right. She will say that she never asked for it either but there is no way out now, never was, never will be.
x
When the last breath of life leaves the old king's body, Morgana draws his son close and holds him in place with all the strength in her arms.
She would whisper words of some sort if she could but they leave her now. There is no space in her head for empty consolations, no room save for Arthur's weight and Arthur's tremors and all the love and loss in this world could not hold a candle to what it does to her.
Merlin stands in the doorway, silent, watchful, (his eyes are cold and always a little wary now) and Gwen stands next to him (eyes soft and wet, tears for a man who killed her father, and there are things Morgana will never understand). With a hand in Arthur's hair, Morgana flicks the wrist of the other and sends them off.
One day, their time will come. They will be advisors and friends and consorts to the throne, warm words and warm arms for their beloved king, but that will be some time in the making.
She knows it makes her selfish but this is a moment she is not willing to share. It belongs to her, belongs to them, for it will be their last, she knows (wishes, so much, she did not know).
She knows what they will all become, has seen how they will love and hurt, betray and regret, and bleed and end without any room left for beginnings. She thinks she is allowed to be at least a little selfish.
x
One day, Arthur will ask her why.
"Because the future," she will say, "is always more unforgiving than the past."
And in a moment of weakness, she will want to reach out for him as she always has but will refrain from doing so as she has nearly always done.