So this is an old story that I started months ago but somehow never got around to finishing. :P I'm finishing it up now, it's going to be pretty short. Just a one-shot. Maybe 2-3 chapters. This is the first one. Enjoy! And if you do, please leave a comment/review also! :)
A throne bathed in blood and built for a King
He meets her in the throne room. Where else?
It's been months since he's seen her but it feels like years and each day has left its mark on his face, on his body. His shoulders are stronger, stiffer, made rigid by a life that anticipates only hardship. His features are older, wiser, have taken on the shape of he who will be remembered as Camelot's King; King Arthur.
Time has been less cruel with her and she is still as beautiful as she was then, if not more so. As though even Time itself dares not touch her; because she is Morgana Le Fay. Because nothing reaches her anymore. Not time, not the little intricacies of life, not a kind word, nor a scathing rebuke.
"Arthur Pendragon!"
Her voice is crystal clear and just as sharp. He approaches warily, sword wavering in his hand, beginning to point downwards. Hers is still held up proudly. Fiercely.
"Morgana…." He acknowledges, his voice barely above a whisper, as though it's taken all of his strength to utter that name. "Why are you here…" he says, more to himself than to her.
"Why for the same reasons you are, naturally."
Arthur glances around the room warily. It is empty, save for one throne which stands at the center of the room. An empty, lonely throne. "Merlin cast a Disjunction spell on this room. You can't use magic in here. But surely you knew that?"
Morgana smiles wryly. "Ah, Merlin… Such a…. Resourceful man, is he not? Oh, pardon me, I mean warlock because he's hardly just a man, isn't that right, Arthur? A being of magic just as myself and yet you trusted him!" She says, her words aimed to hurt just as her sword is aimed to kill.
"You and Merlin are as different as Night and Day" Arthur replies bitterly.
"Is that what he tells you?"
"I see it for myself, Morgana… You are nothing alike."
She scoffs. "How is Merlin? Court advisor now, is he not? What a step up from being your manservant… Though I'd suggest you keep him as Court chemist, his knowledge of poisons is rather extensive…" She pauses, to see if Arthur will take the bait.
He does, flinching slightly at her words. If there's one thing she knows well, it's how to wield that sharp tongue of hers. But she's right, because she summons the one betrayal that stains Merlin's reputation, the memory that still sends a cold shiver down his spine when he thinks back to it. Maybe, maybe if it had not happened… Maybe if he had been present to stop – But it's no use. What's done is done and she insures he will feel this guilt until the end of his days.
"You are fighting for something that does not belong to you, Morgana…" he says, though deep down inside he still wonders. But it doesn't matter because he's been trained to say those words, had them repeated by those loyal to him enough times to make his ears bleed.
"Come now, we both know that isn't true… Besides, if you weren't such a damned nuisance, maybe I could let you live."
"Maybe?" he scoffs. "You can barely guarantee that… What like when we'd fight as children and you'd take away everything I had if you won?"
And it's true. She remembers just as well as he does. She nods. "So then, it comes to this, does it not, dear brother?"
He doesn't reply. But she demands an answer, slashes her sword towards him, forcing him to parry.
Just like old times. She; always first to strike, to initiate. He; always first to defend. Though it's different because their pride was at stake then, his or hers, but now it is Camelot. But it is more than the Kingdom they fight for; it is to be accepted, as they are, with their sinful faults or their saintly virtues. By the people, but more importantly, by each other. And yet as each blow forces him back and her eyes grow darker in a lust for blood, he realizes he will never find acceptance in her eyes, nor she in his.
"Your footwork is getting clumsy, Morgana" he says, a remnant of his former banter coming through as he parries her blows.
"Pity, I was only taught by the best" she retorts quickly.
And he wants to smile, because it looks as though she might and God knows, he would do anything to see that again.
But the moment is shattered just as quickly as it occurs when a knight runs in, wild-eyed, crossbow in hand.
"Stay back, milord!" he yells, voice cracking nervously at the sight of her, the famed Morgan LeFay, illegitimate daughter to a murdered King, half-sister to a dethroned brother; A Queen of cruelty and magic… And Darkness.
Arthur stares at the man who's wearing Camelot's colours, standing proudly with only his dilated pupils to betray his fear. "Don't be an idiot, boy! Stand down! You know what she is capable of!" Arthur hisses, hearing Morgana's lilting laughter ringing in his ears.
But the youth has been brought up on tales of grandeur, of battles and glory, where loyalty and honour always prevail. Where Good always trumps Evil. "I will not stand down, my King! I will fight until the end! I am willing to die for-"
But just then, something whizzes through the air and knocks the breath from his lungs, causing him to stagger back. Arthur's eyes widen as they flicker to his chest, to the green-hilted dagger impaled in it.
"You said you were willing to die, now's your chance to prove it." Morgana mutters, but Arthur doesn't hear her as he buckles under the strain of the young soldier who's fallen against him. "Hold on, dammit. Just stay calm!" He orders.
"It's too late, Arthur, the dagger's been dipped in poison", Morgana calls out nonchalantly, fingering the empty pocket in the dagger belt slung around her waist.
Arthur gapes at her and the man groans weakly. The light is fading from his eyes and the confident bravado with which he entered the room is gone also.
Because they didn't speak of this in the legends. Didn't mention the excruciating pain as muscles spasmed and organs failed, or the mind-numbing panic of a man approaching his own mortality.
"You fool! Why did you have to step between us?" Arthur reprimands in a voice filled with sorrow as the boy drops to the ground, still slumped against his King.
And with his dying breath, he decides that a noble death is not all it's cracked up to be.
I will try to upload the second chapter in a couple of days. :) Please let me know if you enjoyed the story/or whatever general comments you may have!