InsaneJournal

Who: Arthur Pendragon
What: Heavy guilting by Morgana in the role of his conscience
When: Sept. 18th, late evening
Where: Arthur's bedroom/Camelot
Rating: A for Angst
Status: Complete ( @ 2242 words D: )



Rest just would not come that night. Arthur laid on his bed, missing his real bed with a yearning he hadn't experienced since first arriving. Every part of it bothered him and he tossed and turned until he gave up entirely on the idea of sleep. Merlin was missing. Morgana knew and wasn't saying a damn thing about it except not to worry, and Guinevere still didn't fully trust him.

And, as irritating as all that was, Arthur couldn't fault any of them. He slouched onto the uncomfortable chair by a pathetically small writing desk and rested his head on his palm. He stared out the dark window at the twinkling lights of the awake city. Arthur rubbed his temples and let out an aggravated sigh.

When had he begun to care what any of them thought of him to begin with? Certainly before arriving here and the knowledge felt mocking even in his own mind. These things shouldn't bother him, but the did, they bothered him a hell of a lot.

Arthur slouched, dropping his head off the back of the chair so he was staring up at the ceiling, frowning as the plaster and paint faded to reveal a starry sky. Dewey grass slipped through his splayed fingers and he startled, staring down at the mud scarred field. His sword--no, not his sword was it?--lay by his side bloodied and well used. He snagged it pushing himself onto surprisingly unsteady feet, gritting his teeth against of a wave of sudden vertigo.

"Where am I now?"

"You don't know, Arthur?" Morgana's laughter echoed in his head, and he spun around with a wobble, but there was no one behind him. "Your father would be so proud. You always did want that, didn't you? Such a tragedy he never got to see it."

"Morgana," Arthur warned, glancing over his shoulder and there she was cloaked in blood and ragged clothing. "What--"

"Happened? What did happen? Such a question from you." She laughed again, head tossed back and hair tumbling down her back in a matted wave. Arthur could taste her blood on his tongue. "Oh, but you don't remember, do you? Or perhaps, yes, you don't care." She pet his cheek mockingly, dragging jagged nails over his skin. "You never did care for us, did you? You were a remarkable performer. Acting like we mattered when all that ever mattered was your stubborn pride." She clutched his shoulders and he couldn't bear to look away from her. "See what you've done, Arthur Pendragon."

Morgana pushed him until he fell and suddenly he could see it, well beyond the trees surrounding the field, flames shooting high into the darkened sky to obscure the moon. "No."

His blood froze as boulders and arrows flung through the air at the walls of the castle, collapsing first one tower and then the next. The soundless evening was suddenly filled with shrill screams and cries for help and Arthur's stomach churned acid.

"What have you done? Who are you?" he shouted, climbing to his feet. He pointed his sword at her pale, blood smeared throat with a snarl. His hands shook as she made no move to defend herself. Instead, her expression morphed into something near true sympathy.

"Come now, Arthur, surely you know who I am?" she placated, batting away the tip of his sword.

He lowered it reluctantly. "I should kill you."

"Then go right ahead. Kill me." Morgana stepped back with a wild smile and spread her arms wide. "Go on. I know you want to. It's no great secret to me. You never did want me around. Don't pretend."

Arthur didn't move. "Why are you doing this!"

"Because you deserve it," she hissed. "Have you even given a single thought to anyone else but yourself since waking? I thought not. What of Gwen or Merlin? You don't care for them half as much as you say you do. They could be dead."

Flinching, Arthur reared back, sword poised to strike. "You're lying."

"How would you know?" Morgana fired back, once more pushing aside the sword with the tip of her finger. "I'm certain they weren't expecting your rescue at the very least, take pleasure in that. I know I wouldn't. You never did like me."

"Of course I did, don't be stupid, Morgana. Just because it was never said doesn't mean I--" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I know what you're doing." He sheathed his sword and folded his arms across his chest. "And it won't work. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Hm, pity. I was so looking forward to it." She raised a shoulder in concession and a blithe smile lit her face. "Well, let's go and see, shall we?"

A sharp scream echoed across the field from the direction of the city, louder than any other, and Arthur wavered mid-step. His face contorted in worry and a fissure of fear coated ice down his spine. This was wrong. Every part of him was screaming with the voices of his people that this, this was very wrong.

"Come on, Arthur. You really don't want to miss this."

Arthur followed Morgana into the woods, battling the need to step in front of her to protect and let her go first to spare him the moment they would first enter the city. Her callous attitude bit at his nerves, already destroying what little fortitude he felt he could have from being tossed out of a strange place into a stranger circumstance.

And the knowledge that she loathed him, purely, did nothing to ease the growing knot in his throat.

He gripped the hilt of his sword, flexing his fingers along the handle, poised to fight, if there was a fight to be had. He couldn't know what he'd come upon. Though, Morgana seemed perfectly aware. Arthur considered asking her. He entertained the thought through much of the forest, but dismissed it as they drew up along the outer walls of Camelot. The acrid stench of smoke and burning flesh assaulted him and bile climbed up his throat.

"What the hell happened, Morgana?"

"You've wed yourself to your kingdom." Morgana stepped over a pile of rubble; smashed pieces of wall now reduced to chalk and pebbles. "At the expense of its people. Look at what you've caused."

"I've done nothing!" he shouted.

"Exactly."

Arthur rubbed at his temple in frustration and glowered at her. "That makes no sense. Surely there's another explanation."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Morgana..."

"You need to see for yourself." Morgana pouted mockingly, clasping her hands before herself in contrition. "Don't tell me you're frightened. The great Arthur Pendragon afraid to enter his own city. Think of what your father would say."

"My father--"

"Is dead, actually. It was quite the occasion."

Arthur stopped breathing. "What?"

Morgana cradled his cheek with a dirty, cold hand. Her eyes danced with merriment and in that moment he hated her, more than he ever had in his life.

"Are you going to hit me, Arthur?" Morgana teased, grabbing his clenched hand and lifting it. "I didn't know you could feel anything."

"No." He flexed his fingers within her grasp, flattening his palm against hers. Rage simmered beneath his skin, taunting him for his weakness and begging him to put Morgana in her place, but he wouldn't do it. "I won't."

"So stubborn, even now." She dropped his hand and stepped away from him, striking him across the cheek in a flash of brutality that left Arthur reeling in shock.

"You hit me!"

"Don't act so surprised. I dare say you won't even go into the city. You're not even trying to save them. Instead you're arguing here with me. Some prince you are. Cowering at the edge of the forest like a maid."

Arthur stiffened. "Are you done?"

"Yes."

"Good." Arthur withdrew his sword and held it firmly in hand before marching around her onto the road into the city. He breathed in deep through his mouth, tasting nothing but ash and death. Morgana was mistaken. This couldn't be his fault. He hadn't been here. None of this could have happened while he was away, it was absurd.

He clung to that thought as he stole into the outer reaches of the city. People ran by him without a second glance, hurrying with their pails of sloshing water, spilling more than would help them when they reached their homes. Arthur watched all this with a creeping numbness that stole upon him as he moved inward. Debris littered the the cobblestones, charred wood mixed with clay and less identifiable objects from the inside of people's home. Fire was everywhere, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as if spurred on by an invisible wind and the shrieks and wails of Camelot's citizens picked up intensity.

"You've failed them, Arthur."

"I thought you were done," he muttered, letting the tip of his sword touch the ground. It would be no good here. Brute strength couldn't save these houses, these people. Morgana pointed toward the castle, standing tall and ghostly in the distance. No flames were to be found within those windows, from either candle or fire.

"Your father took an arrow to his head. He was celebrating Camelot's latest victory over sorcery right there on that balcony. Of course, no one thought to protect his thick skull from ordinary weapons. After all, why would an ordinary person wish Uther dead?"

"Merlin wouldn't let that happen."

"Do you really believe that loyalty he's shown you stretched to your father? The man hated magic. You're lucky he never knew about Merlin."

"No, this." Arthur gestured around them impatiently. "Surely even he wouldn't be idiotic enough to exaggerate his own powers."

"I'm sure he could have," Morgana agreed easily, far too easily in Arthur's estimation. "Were he still here. After all, who would want to stay where you weren't appreciated."

Arthur grimaced, finding it suddenly easier to be sitting than standing. His chainmail weighed heavily on his shoulders, dragging him over into a hunch. "He left?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Arthur's jaw twitched in response.

"There, there, Arthur." Morgana laid a hand on his shoulder. "You always knew you'd lose him one day. His friendship meant so little to you after all." She sighed, tugging on his arm. "Stand up. You look foolish."

Climbing to his feet, Arthur shrugged off her hands and put a walls distance between them. She led him through the twisting streets, heat licking at their heels as the fire dogged their very steps toward the castle. People ran between them, bumping into them without apology only panicked expressions and deadened eyes. Shivering, Arthur nearly stumbled over the corpse of a young child, a girl clutching a doll and a beam from a fallen roof across her middle.

"Camelot needed its king." Morgana stood beside him and stared down at the girl with an disaffected look. "But you weren't here."

The courtyard bled red from capes and fallen knights, bodies twisted at odd angles. A few were burned beyond recognition, and Arthur gagged into his hand. This couldn't have happened. Not again. He stumbled through them, searching for familiar faces and words to express the dizzy sickness he was feeling. A quiet sob stopped him in place. The sound was as familiar to him as the accompanying numbness was not.

"Guinevere?"

"No, no," she moaned, not looking up at him. Tears glistened against her dark skin, dripping off her cheeks and onto the inanimate face of a knight. Arthur stepped closer with his hand outstretched. "Stay away from me," she snapped, warding him off without moving. "Don't come any closer, Arthur."

Arthur dropped his hand without protest, going so far as to step backward, but none of that prepared him for when she raised her head. Her eyes blazed with bitter anger so strongly that Arthur could almost feel it pouring off of her. He'd never seen her look that way at anyone, let alone him.

"I apologize."

"He loved me, Arthur. He did." Her shoulders began to tremble. "He loved me because you couldn't. You never could. You never even tried. I loved you so much and you--"

She broke off on a choked sob. Her hands shook as they smoothed over Lancelot's waxen skin. "He gave me everything, including his life. Just, please, go away. Leave me."

Arthur took a stumbling step backward into Morgana who merely laughed at him. "Don't you understand, Arthur?" He stared at her dumbly, and she clucked her tongue. "You always were a bit slow in these matters."

"Do you think this is fun, Morgana? This can't be happening."

"No? How can you be so sure?"

Arthur blew out a shaky sigh, pulling away from her.

"You're going back there you know. As punishment. It's all rather fitting I should say. No one wants you here. No one wants you there. It's like God is playing a funny little joke on you to everyone's delight but yours. Believe me, Arthur, this is real."

His vision swam from anger, colors blending as his rage and upset grew from the cold numbness it had hidden under. The very air seemed to clear a path for him but when the sudden upheaval of emotion stopped he found himself back in his chair, staring at the ceiling before his chair upturned and he fell to the ground, exhausted and unmoving.