Chapter Twenty One
A/N: Thank you to Guest and Kreuse for reviewing the last chapter.
Morgana smoothed her dress down and brushed her curls from out of her eyes. She had never usually been one to be concerned by appearances, but Arthur had that strange effect on her. It was ironic really, considering that a prince laid in his sickbed was unlikely to be looking his best.
As she crossed the threshold into Arthur's chamber, Morgana could have sworn she felt the guards' eyes fixed on her, as if they did not quite trust her to do as she said. The young woman had always been rebellious, true, and had often gained such glances during her childhood, when Uther had ordered her to finish her embroidery and she had instead been found fighting on the practice yards, but this felt different, more judgemental. 'What do they know?' she thought, her mind drifting to her secret meetings with Morgause, all the times she had snuck out of the palace by moonlight. 'How much is really a secret?'
Morgana was quick to dismiss the thoughts when the prince came into her sight. He was propped against a stack of white pillows, the only thing paler she had seen, but his smile as she entered the room was as bright as ever.
"Why is it every time we meet after an argument, one of us always has to be close to death?" His voice was a little hoarse as he spoke, but Morgana laughed along nonetheless.
"We're too stubborn." she responded, shrugging her shoulders lightly as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Neither of us will back down until we don't have a choice."
"I didn't realise I needed to back down." Arthur stated, trying to meet the young woman's eye. She turned her head in the other direction, studying the patterns carved in his wardrobe door. "Morgana?"
However skilled she was at ignoring the prince, Morgana could not do the same when his tone was so fragile. When the bravado fell away, and the true caring man was revealed, she could not help but listen to him.
"I'm sorry." the brunette sighed, meeting Arthur's eye at last. Usually the man would have teased her about her inability to pay attention, graciously accepting her apology for not listening with a mock bow, but he did not do so this time. Perhaps he did not have the energy for such gestures. Perhaps they were not those two children anymore.
"Morgana, I want us to be friends again." Arthur told her, trying to keep the pleading note out of his voice. Even on the most tender of occasions, the prince could never quite overcome his pride, his fear that people may think him weak if he showed his true feelings. Even people he had confided in since childhood. "I don't know what went wrong, and I don't really care. I just want things to go back to the way they were."
"But that's the thing, Arthur." Morgana stated tentatively. He seemed so happy at the prospect, but reality had to come first. "How can we go back to how it was before? After what happened between us… everything's changed."
Arthur nodded slowly. "You're right. Of course you are. But if we can't go back to what we were before, maybe we could move on to something new. Something better."
He reached out slowly, laying his hand on top of hers. He did not lace their fingers together, as she had expected him to. 'He's waiting for me to do it.'
Somehow, Morgana could not bring herself to go any further. She wanted to join their hands together, to hold him, to kiss him, but her body would not obey. It was like an invisible bridle, the horse trying to bolt forward but its master tightening the reins so it could not move for choking. In spite of herself, Morgana moved away, shuffling back towards the edge of the bed and letting Arthur's hand fall limp onto the sheets.
The blonde frowned, his mouth torn between a smile of disbelief and a gasp of shock. "What's the matter?"
"I can't do this, Arthur." the girl blurted out, her mouth forming the words before her mind could comprehend them. Suddenly, it was Morgana who began to frown. 'This isn't right. I'm saying words I don't want to say. I do want to be with Arthur. Why am I saying these things?'
"I understand, it's all a bit new." Arthur tried to reason, but she cut across him, her mouth forming into a grimace.
"It's not new, Arthur, because it's never going to happen." It was as if her mouth was speaking without being told the words. The saddle was being ridden alone, the horse long since gone. 'Stop talking!' she begged herself. 'Oh, please, Morgana, stop!'
The expression on Arthur's face reminded her of a boy from so many years ago, when his favourite of his father's hounds had been put to the sword, after one of his legs was lost in a hunting accident. The young prince had cried for days afterwards, hidden away in his chambers. The only one who'd been able to cheer him was the young lady who had come to Camelot not long before, ward of the king after her father's death.
But there was nothing she could do to cheer him now, not when she was the one breaking his heart. The brunette willed herself to say something, anything to lift his spirits, or even to try and explain the inexplicable barrier preventing her speaking her true feelings. But she could not. Instead she stood, casting a final glance over her shoulder as she left the room fast as a bolting horse. It was all she could do not to cry, when her feet took her, each moment, a step further away from where she truly wanted to be. The young woman dug her nails into her palms as she walked, setting off for the stables. If her own body would not obey her will, would not let her anywhere near the man she loved, there was only one person who could help her regain control of herself.
Morgana smirked a little, recognising the quality Arthur had always loved most about her. She was not willing to give up without a fight.
A/N: Not the best of chapters, but I'm trying to illustrate that something's going wrong here. Hope you enjoyed and please review!