A/N: Arthur and Morgana because I can't stop writing them. Gahhh.
And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,
Or the moment of truth in your lies;
When everything feels like the movies,
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive. ~Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls
"Would you believe me if I said I never meant for things to end up like this?"
Arthur doesn't turn around. He knows the voice; he doesn't need to see the face.
"Is that so?" Arthur replies, staring intently at the tile by the toe of his right boot. It occurs to him that he should be wondering how Morgana got in the castle in the first place, but he knows it's no use. She comes and goes as she pleases, elusive like the wind. He can't fathom why she stopped by to chat, not when she has bigger things to do, like wreck his kingdom.
"I didn't," Morgana says stiffly. "I wanted to avenge Morgause's death and the countless others whose blood Uther spilled. I wanted Camelot to know the benefit of allowing magic users in its midst. I wanted—" her voice breaks. "I wanted to right things."
"Well, you've done a good job of that, haven't you?" Arthur states, pointed and angry.
"Don't act like you're better than me," snaps Morgana. "What have you done for the kingdom?"
"I am better than you," Arthur insists, shoulders tense and fingers clenched. He still has his back to her. He won't look Morgana head-on; he won't give her the pleasure of seeing him unhinged. "I'm supposed to be."
"Yes, because it's your destiny," Morgana sneers, and Arthur wills himself not to turn around, don't face her, you can't face her, not when you two used to stand like this in the hallways and bicker with each other about silly things. Not when looking at her reminds you of the good times, when Uther was alive and Morgana was on your side—by your side.
"And what's your destiny, Morgana?" Arthur says. "Is this what you saw in your dreams? Did you know, even then, that you would be the ruin of Camelot?"
He can tell he has struck something deep inside her. Arthur can almost feel Morgana breathing down his back. He closes his eyes to prevent himself from turning around and grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. Holding her close will not bring her to her senses. It's too late for that.
Morgana's voice is quiet. "I didn't know things would end like this," she repeats again. "I didn't mean for them to."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Arthur spits, still staring at the floor.
Morgana laughs hollowly. "You and I both know I would have burned anyway if I had stayed here." Her voice is sad, bitter, and Arthur finds there are tears in his eyes. But he won't turn and comfort her, he won't, he won't, he won't—
He gives in and turns around.
She's already gone.
