Ghosts of Our Past
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One cannot and must not try to erase the
past merely because it does not fit the present.
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The cool earth was soft from the recent afternoon drizzle, the air moist from the impending midnight storm looming overhead. Morgana's shoes were lost in a thick mud puddle a mile back, yet she opted to continue on her quest barefooted. She was determined, on a mission. Her hood was held tight over her lengthy dark locks, failing dismally at keeping the young ward warm. A bolt of thunder rang out from the heavens, causing her jump, stumbling over her feet slightly. It was difficult for her to follow the dirt path without any source of light, the texture of the mud between her toes served as a makeshift compass. Finally, she came to a fork in the path. Lightening illuminated the forest for a brief moment, allowing Morgana the chance to follow the correct road. Smiling weakly at the familiar path, she hurried her pace and rushed towards the leafy opening.
He was angry, no infuriated. She'd promised him that she wouldn't leave the grounds on her own again, she swore. Yet, here Arthur was, chasing after Morgana in the middle of the night in the heart of the forest. He didn't know what made him more furious: the fact that he was freezing cold, outside, in a thunderstorm or the fact that she had lied to him...again. He'd grown tired of her childish tendencies, her reckless choices. She never thought of the consequences. Arthur couldn't even think of what could happen to her if he wasn't lucky enough to have spotted her sneaking out of the castle from his window. Morgana had been attempting to run off in the middle of the night a lot lately, getting farther and farther each escape attempt before Arthur or one of the guards caught her and forced her back to her chambers. Tonight, however, Arthur resorted to a different tactic. He would follow Morgana all of the way to her destination to figure out exactly where it was she was desiring to go. She'd refused to reveal her intended destination, and Arthur was set on beating her at her own game. He hid behind the thick tree trunks, blending in with the forestry like a chameleon.
Morgana's beautiful long white train from her nightgown was coated in mud and stains from the lengthy grass. It didn't matter, nothing did just then. She fell onto her knees once she reached a short hill with a solitary tree atop it. Her fingers dug into the springy earth, pulling herself back to her feet. She ran as fast as she could to reach the top of the hill, her heart pounding within her chest. Once she reached the tree, she collapsed to her knees, her hood falling off her head.
Arthur crawled behind the hill, hidden beneath the prairie grass. He saw that there was not just a tree atop the hill, a large headstone could be seen before the thick trunk. Arthur crept along the other side, so he could not be seen by the young ward but he could see her. He knew where she had taken him. He'd been there once before, when he and Morgana were ten. It had been on the day of Morgana's father's funeral and he now found himself upon the very same grave site. The stone was weathered and cracked, aged by neglect. He remembered the day they had laid Morgana's father to rest. Arthur had never been to a funeral before, excluding his own mother's. He could still picture the look on Morgana's face. She looked so blank. She just stared straight ahead, he couldn't even recall her blinking. Uther marveled at how strong the child was, but Arthur knew her actions were the opposite of strength. She was bottling up her emotions, ignoring the pain that tore up her insides. Arthur had stood beside her, laced his fingers with hers. She didn't respond, but Arthur knew his small gesture meant more to her than any feeble attempt by anyone else to comfort her.
At the sight of Morgana kneeling before her father's grave, Arthur suddenly regretted being the slightest bit upset at the young beauty. However, when he heard her melodious voice drift into his ears courtesy of several healthy gusts of wind, another emotion overtook him: surprise.
"I'm sorry," said Morgana, speaking to the decade old stone as if it were her living, breathing father. "I know I should visit more often. I have been careless and selfish. I apologize, Father. I tried to come on your birthday last week, but I kept getting caught by the guards. I would have asked for permission for my pilgrimage, but I refuse to have a chaperone to visit my own Father."
Arthur's heart sunk deep into his chest. He'd never seen this side of Morgana before. She was vulnerable, allowing her entire self to be seen by someone, someone who wasn't even alive.
"I miss you, you know," she continued, "every day."
Arthur raised a curious brow when Morgana paused as if her father was about to answer her and apparently, to Morgana, he did.
"No, I have been blessed with a very privileged life in Camelot...it isn't that," said Morgana, shoving a thick strand of hair behind her ear. "Material items do not always entitle one to a lifetime of happiness, Father."
Morgana wasn't happy? Arthur wasn't aware of this. She was so pampered, being waited on hand and foot. How could she not be happy with such a life? Why hadn't she ever said anything...to him? He thought she could tell him anything. He certainly thought that about her.
"I didn't always feel like this," she admitted. "I just feel so alone, I feel like I'm standing by myself in a crowded room. I have no one."
Arthur's stomach ached, it was as if he was listening to a stranger.
"No, of course I still have Arthur," she sighed, looking at her hands laced in her lap. "He's the best friend I've ever had, and I don't deserve him."
"It is I would does not deserve you," Arthur whispered to himself.
"But things aren't like they used to be between us, we aren't children anymore," she admitted. "We aren't close like we were before...he shouldn't be close to me, no one should. I'm dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Arthur scoffed quietly. Morgana was hardly dangerous.
"But now...things are just different," she started again, answering her father's silent question. "He cares for Gwen now, you know, my maidservant. She is a very sweet girl, and I wish them both the best."
She knew? Arthur thought Merlin was the only outsider who knew about his kiss with Gwen. He wished she didn't know. Rain began to fall from the heavens as mists of confusion engulfed Arthur's entire being.
"Of course, I still love him," she breathed, almost aghast. "I've loved him since we were ten years old and I will love him until we are one hundred and ten. The feelings I have for him are infinite."
Arthur's breath became caught in his throat. He must be dreaming. This entire scene was so bizarre, there was no possible way it could be real. He blinked several times, gulping so hard he feared he swallowed his tongue. If he had known, known Morgana cared for him...like he cared for her....things would be so different. How could he have known? She was so cold, so distant. No one could have drawn that conclusion, at least that's what he convinced himself.
"But I've never been able to tell him, I suppose my pride has always prevented me from doing so," she frowned. "I know I'll never tell him now. I could never get in the way of his happiness. He deserves a queen worthy of him, Camelot deserves better than the likes of me."
She's mad, Arthur thought. She'd gone on lying to him for so many years, denying her feelings and preventing not only true happiness for herself but for Arthur as well. Camelot would be lucky to have a queen such as her, he would be lucky to have her. Queen Morgana of Camelot rolled well off the tongue. No, he shook his head, what was he thinking? He loved Gwen, didn't he? She wasn't his second choice, right? Of course not...
"I fear I will not be able to even live within the confines of Camelot's borders much longer, Father," said Morgana. "As much as it pains me to leave Gwen, Merlin, and Arthur of course...I know it will be better for everyone in the end."
"You tosspot," Arthur muttered, infuriated with her sentiment.
"I can't live in fear anymore, Father," said Morgana.
Fear? She lived in a castle surrounded by a constant array of armed guards. What on earth did she have to fear?
"I'm afraid all the time, afraid of what will happen to me if Uther were to find out what I really am, what I am truly capable of," she frowned, a few tears falling from her green orbs and mixing in with the large raindrops collecting upon her flawless skin. "He'd have me killed, Father, he'd burn me at the stake without a second thought. But what frightens me more than all of that is what Arthur would think of me. He'd fear me, Father, he'd hate me. I'd sooner die than have him know what I really am."
"The Druids," he whispered, concluding she must have obtained close relations with the Druids through the young boy, Mordred. He could forgive her, of course he could. She had a kind heart, she feared for the child and his people. She was a fool for believing he would think otherwise. That was the only thing he could think of. Morgana wiped her eyes as more raindrops returned to her cheeks and looked back at the headstone. Her dark hair clung to her face as did the flaxen locks upon Arthur's head. Morgana crawled forward, clutching the side of the headstone and resting her forehead against the stone. She sobbed heavily, wishing arms could extend from the cold rock. Her body shuddered, partially from her sobs and partially from the cold.
"I just wish I could stay here, with you, forever," she cried heavily. "But I know I must return to Camelot soon, or Uther will have my head."
Arthur remained still, staring at the trembling woman. Even in the state she was in, she was strikingly beautiful, enough to take his breath away. She looked so weak, something Arthur had never seen her as before. He'd never seen Morgana with her guard down, she'd never opened up before. He'd craved for her to do so for so many years, yearning to break her hardened shell. He'd wanted her for so long, his heart had always belonged to her. However, Morgana had never realized she'd had it all along. The only reason he had began to fall for Gwen was because he had it set in his mind that Morgana could never be his, but now that he had heard her confession...things were so different.
He could not bare the sight of Morgana crying any longer, it hurt his heart too much. He slowly took to his feet, gradually striding so he hovered over the headstone, looking down at the hysterical Morgana. She didn't even realize he was there, continuing to cry without any idea. Arthur knelt down beside her, she turned quickly to face him. She gasped in shock, falling back onto her behind.
"Morgana-" he started gently, reaching for her.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped in a harsh tone, pushing herself away from his grasp. "Spying on me, were you?"
"No," he insisted. "I followed you so you weren't out in the woods alone."
"Oh, I'm sure," she said sarcastically.
"It's the truth," he said defensively, "something you're obviously not accustomed to."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she said frantically, unaware of how much Arthur had heard her say.
"Come off it, Morgana, I heard everything," he said.
"That was private," she cried. "You had no right!"
"And you had no right to lie to me all these years!" he shouted, suddenly enraged. "You cared for me, and you never said a word! You led me to believe I meant nothing to you."
She sent him a formidable glare and took to her bare feet, turning her back to the crowned prince of Camelot. She closed her eyes tight as she began to walk back along the path back to the castle, frightened her ability to produce fire from her eyes would betray her once again. Arthur ran after her, stumbling in the mud as his boots sunk into the mud.
"Oh, typical Morgana," Arthur shouted after her, "running away-"
"You are an ignorant fool, Arthur Pendragon, you have no idea what you're talking about," she bellowed, pivoting about swiftly to meet his gaze. "You were not meant to hear that."
"Did you mean it?" he said in an abruptly calm voice.
"What?"
"Did you mean what you said before?"
Her eyes danced from side to side as his brown orbs stung her very soul. She opened and closed her mouth several times before finally releasing a solitary word, so quiet Arthur nearly missed it.
"No."
"Liar," Arthur frowned, releasing her arms and beginning his walk along the path.
Morgana chased after him, unwilling to allow him to lead the way.
"Arthur, why can't you just understand," she persisted. "We can never-"
"We can never what, Morgana?"
"Be together," she said, ceasing her hasty steps.
Arthur halted his own strides and turned about, several feet ahead of her. Her lower lip trembled, tears overtaking the streams of raindrops along her pale cheeks.
"You don't mean that," he said, shaking his head slowly.
Arthur stepped towards her, his expression almost delirious. He took her face in his hands, lightening illuminating their handsome features. He pushed away tears from below her emerald orbs, searing her heart with his chocolate eyes. He moved his face closer to hers, propping up her chin.
"Arthur-" she started.
"Tell me you don't love me."
"What?" she breathed.
"Tell me you don't love me, and I'll forget everything," he whispered, his warm breath heating her skin. "If you can look me in the eye and tell me your feelings for me are strictly platonic then we will return to Camelot the same Arthur and Morgana as before."
"Arthur-"
"Say it," he insisted fiercely.
Morgana shuddered, her eyes opening and closing. She knew what she should say, and she also knew what she wanted to say. When she peered up at his handsome face, a face she'd loved for over a decade, she knew exactly what her response must be.
"I- I can't," she frowned, disgusted with herself.
Arthur smiled victoriously, wallowing in his success.
"I knew it," he grinned.
"Arthur, things are so much more complicated than you know," she sighed. "Saying 'I love you' means n-"
"It means everything," he interrupted. "Life is filled with interruptions and complications, but we will get through whatever it is together. You're mine now, Morgana, and nothing can ever or will ever change that."
He leaned in another inch and kissed her ever so gently, welcoming Morgana's soft lips against his. She brought her palms against his waist as Arthur tangled his fingers through her drenched lengthy locks. After a few blissful moments, the pair separated. Arthur held the young ward against his chest, knowing then he would not be returning with Morgana. No, Prince Arthur Pendragon would be returning with Camelot's once and future queen.
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A/N: Please review. This didn't turn out as well as I intended, but I think I got my premise across. I hope you enjoyed it.
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s i l v e r a u r o r a tagged me in her latest challenge. (She is the Queen of ArMor! Seriously, she's amazing, read her fics.) Here are the rules (and you can copy&paste if you're tagged, to make life easier):
I.) The first person to start the challenge off picks a word. That word should (with a very loose definition of 'should') be the basis of your story.
II.) After you finish, tag one or more people to follow the challenge, picking a word for them. That person/those people then tag more people, assigning another word.
III.) There are no rules to this challenge but to simply centre your story around the word 'passed' to you. There is no deadline, and your story doesn't have to be in the same fandom as the one in which you were set the challenge. Please enjoy it!
s i l v e r a u r o r a tagged myself and emerald sorceress with the word "liar."
So I tag CoLdBlAdEand xGeminiGirlxwith the word "betrayal." CoLdBlAdE feeds my Mergana obsession brilliantly while xGeminiGirlx wrote an exciting ArMor one-shot, and I'd love to see them write more!
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