Chin up.

Stand straight.

Breathe.

He could do this.

He could do this!

Arthur unclenched his hands as he stood in front of the wooden double doors that lead to the throne room. What was wrong with him? He had been a king! He had won battles, fought sorcerers, died! But he couldn't even walk into a room with his previously dead father?

"There are certain things that are more important than love. It is your duty to strengthen and protect the kingdom. You failed."

Grey eyes. Ghostly pale skin.

"How can I be proud of a son who ignores everything I taught him? Who destroys my inheritance?"

Uther Pendragon suddenly stood in front of him, his skin ghastly pale, almost translucent in the sunny hallway with a disapproving glare aimed directly at Arthur, and the blond haired man took a step back with sudden alarm. He closed his eyes waiting for another round of his father's accusing words.

Only they didn't come.

Arthur blinked, only to find himself back in front of the door to the throne room, and no sign of his father's ghostly apparition.

What was that supposed to be?

Memories- his mind provided.

It felt as fresh as he heard those words the first time, and it had been years since he tried to drown the face of his father's ghost. What was happening to him?

He would only be meeting his father! Who just wanted to kill him the last time they met.

He felt a presence at his right three steps behind, and Arthur realised it was Merlin. Without a word, the dark haired man stepped forward, handing Arthur a neatly rolled scroll. Before he could ask what it was, the wooden double doors suddenly pushed open revealing the throne room, cutting off all of Arthur's wandering thoughts and making him feel a sudden sense of foreboding.

He would be fine.

Arthur was not fine.

Uther Pendragon sat on the throne greeting his son with the barest hint of a smile, and all Arthur wanted was to turn around and leave his presence. Because all he could think back was to the day the ghost of his father attacked and tried to kill him in the same room they were now, and as much as Arthur tried to think past it, he just- couldn't do it.

"Arthur!" His father's voice was warm and happy and not angry and disappointed and he sounded not like the King, but his father. Arthur curled his hands into fists and pulled his face into a mask covering his internalised monologue, and gave his father a well practised bow.

"Father. I apologise for the delay of the report regarding the last day's expedition near the Valley of the Fallen Kings." Arthur said, although he had no idea what they were doing there in the first place. He should have asked Merlin about it that morning. But he did know how to talk his way through the court, and he would be fine.

Confidence was what he wanted to show the court.

"Yes. I did hear you were ill. I hope you're feeling up to your strength now."

Arthur stood straight and met his father's eyes, cold grey with a little hint of warmth. This was not his ghost. He was real, alive- and not broken as he was in his last moments.

There was a pause as he watched his father's face. There was no anger now. And it had been so long since he had heard his father's voice in such a manner.

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and cleared his throat. Right. Arthur was in the throne room. He shouldn't lose his composure. "I- Yes my Lord, nothing a little sleep couldn't mend"

The King nodded and waited, until Arthur realised that he was waiting for him to deliver the report. He looked at the scroll in his hand. When he was unable to inform the King immediately after his quests out of the castle, his father always demanded a written account of the expedition. As such was the case here, Arthur was suddenly very grateful for Merlin, because he knew it was the dark haired man who documented the report when Arthur was unable to do so.

He held his father's gaze as he passed the scroll to Lord Eldrich the Court Scribe, an upright and stiff old man whose face Arthur hadn't seen in a long time. "Our trail was picked up by a group of Bandits somewhere near the Valley of the Fallen Kings. They probably have a stronghold somewhere in the White Mountains'' Arthur spoke, with all the courage he could muster. "How we escaped, I would never know. However, some credit must go to my servant, Merlin."

The King's cool gaze met his own and Arthur had to repress the strong urge to glare at him at his nonchalance when the now- Prince tried to credit his servant. It wasn't new, years of knowing his father made him realise this, but Arthur couldn't say he wasn't disappointed.

"Dispatch a patrol. I want these men caught and brought to justice," Uther commanded, and Arthur could only nod in solemnity.

"Right away, My Lord."

Arthur's gaze flickered behind the king's throne to his left, fixing on the graceful figure with raven black curls.

Lady Morgana stared back at him with steel green eyes, and a smile that Arthur could've sworn was bordering on a smirk.

He almost had to take a step back as he realised this was not the kind hearted Morgana that he knew in his childhood. The woman who sat in front of him was a traitor seeking the kingdom's downfall. How did he not notice this before? How long had she been like this?

Arthur suddenly felt his throat go dry. "I—" he cleared his throat and masked his surprise of seeing the woman who was his sister and who tried to kill him numerous times in his past with a broad smile. "I do also like to wish Lady Morgana a wonderful birthday, and may this day bring all your heart desires."

At this, his father let out a laugh and a warm smile rising from his throne. "Court adjourned!" he said as he walked forward clapping Arthur on his shoulder. The once-King had to exhale and blink away the involuntary tears gathering at his eyes at the familiar, warm, steady grasp of his father's hand. "We feared you would have been too ill to attend the feast today Arthur."

He could feel his heart drumming beneath his ribcage. His father's friendly voice and Morgana's not too friendly presence brought on too many feelings, and all Arthur wanted was to leave the room to the comfort of his chambers. He curled his fingers and gritted his teeth, willing himself to ground him back. "It would take me more than a little headache to take me away from a feast in honour of the Lady I would call my sister." He offered her a forced smile that looked a little strained, what was he to do when the last time he saw her she was just a corpse?

"Oh Arthur, we both know that you would never turn down a feast lest if it be on my name or not," said the witch in disguise with a quirk on her lips. It took the now-Prince all his willpower to not let out the simmering anger that he felt under his skin.

His father let out a booming laugh as he nodded at the both of them, a proud glint in his eyes, all the while Arthur was torn between wanting to smile back at his father and sending a withering glare at his sister's direction. This was enough. He had enough for the day, done with seeing dead people who wanted and tried to kill him at one point or another in his life, or rather his past life.

"For once in your life Morgana I think you're right," Arthur started, wanting to end the conversation and knowing that there was no other way other than to give away the victory in the verbal spat. "It is always quite entertaining to see you turning down the hopeful nobles waiting for your hand." Without waiting for her response, Arthur stepped back, and held the gaze of his father. "I'm afraid I have another appointment in my schedule My Lord, may I be excused?"

Arthur stumbled into his bedroom not before ordering Merlin to walk his dogs because no matter how much he valued the man's presence, he wanted nothing more than to be alone that moment. He had to gather himself together.

He sat on the foot of his bed, planting his feet on the large chest on the floor, and clutched his head as he began to separate his thoughts.

He had thought he was ready to meet his father. He had thought he was ready enough to meet his sister, and ye gods what a fool he was! When he saw the woman's face all he could imagine was the hollowed battered pale figure of Morgana, half mad with revenge and bitterness.

It was not hate that filled his heart. Anger was a familiar feeling for him, but beneath that there was pity and sympathy for the woman that he lost. He wanted his sister back. The kind compassionate and fierce woman who loved tormenting him. Was he bad for not hating the woman who became the reason for the loss of so many lives?

His hands found their way to his temple, trying to ease the pain of an upcoming headache. There were so many things that he needed to sort out.

What happened to you Morgana?

Arthur stared blankly at the wall in front of him, as if it could give him any answers, only to realise that the wall stared back at him with the same expression. The man sighed. He was going nowhere with this. If only he could-

"You've made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind. You're not as different from Uther as you'd like to think."

There. In front of him she stood, dressed in a tattered black dress with unkempt hair and hollow cheekbones, a complete contrast to the woman he talked to mere moments before. He blinked owlishly, to shake the image of his dead sister, but the image didn't seem to shake away from his head. He wasn't as surprised as when he saw his father's apparition before he went into the throne room. It seems very little could startle a mind once you've died and brought back to life.

"That is not true. You didn't give me a chance," Arthur altered, eyes softening as he spoke to the pale figure of Morgana.

"You didn't accept what was offered to you. You didn't like what was there in front of you. Your ignorance became the cause of your death!"

Arthur had no answer to that. Because in his heart of hearts, he knew that everything that had happened was more or less his fault. If he hadn't been so oblivious to what had been happening in front of him, if he actually paid attention to his most trusted friend, and actually listened to him rather than being wrapped up in his own pride -

"Ah, that's right brother," the cold mocking voice of Morgana brought back memories within memories of his failings. "It's your own pride that brought the suffering of everyone around you. You've always been your father's son with your ignorance, and your blind hatred. How fun it was for me to see you get fooled by everyone around you Arthur."

Arthur gulped, tears gathering at the end of his eyes. What kind of torture is this? To have all his failings shove straight to his face? A cold shiver went down his spine, and he knew that it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

He had to stop his line of thinking. He had been there before. He remembered navigating a cold dark labyrinth of tunnels looking for a safe haven, with the same thoughts wrapping around his conscience. That time, a dark haired lanky man helped him to get out of his stupor and made him see sense. This time, there was none other than the ghostly presence of his sister that his mind had conjured, who did nothing but to push him back into the darkness.

'All I know is that, for your many faults, you are honest and brave and true hearted, and one day you will be the greatest King this land has ever known.'

Merlin's words and his utter faith all those years ago brought him back from that darkness. Arthur knew now that those words were void now. What good of a King was he when his most trusted friend didn't even trust him back in return?

Then it's a good thing that you have another chance to prove him right. His mind supplied, and Arthur paused.

He will prove Merlin right. Unlike the last time, Arthur knew better than to make trouble and leave Merlin to clear his mess. This time, Arthur vowed to be a better King, a better friend. This time, Arthur would save Morgana because he refused to believe that the old Morgana was gone from this world. He saw her in her eyes when she let out her dying breath. The desperation, the sorrow, he had seen it all. He knew that there was a chance for her to come back to him.

He wiped a traitorous tear that spilled from his eye, -what was this? Has dying made him go soft with his feelings?- and took a breath. He would make things right. Starting with a certain sorceress.

Arthur raised himself from where he sat on his bed and walked over to his desk, knowing that there was something that he needed to do. Opening the drawer, he picked up a wooden box that sat innocently inside and opened it, letting a small smile grace at the corner of his lips. It looked almost perfect, and all it needed now was a touch of silver, a touch of jewels.

He was now in need of a silversmith.

Hello! I am very sorry about the shorter chapter and the late update, but I had a very shitty week and very little time to do anything at all. I tried to make this a better chapter, but it just came out a little weird than I intended. I really hope you liked this though.

This story would focus more on the emotional aspect than action, but I have some things in mind that I would love to write down.

Thank you all the kind reviews that made my week better than it was. Your support means a lot to me than anything.

To those of you who asked about Morgana, well, she's still a grey area and a stubborn one even for me. We'll see where fate would take us :)

Cheers!