Who: Arthur and Morgana What: Arthur gets drunk and embarrasses himself. Right in front of Morgana. Then they talk and things get awkward. And ends as most conversations with these two do, a fight. Where: Arthur’s apartment When: Tonight~ (29 July 2013) Status: Gdoc | Complete Rating: Med-High? Maybe? Warnings: Drunken idiocy. Arthur briefly gets incestuous because denial is FUN. Only not. Blame Uther, always blame Uther.
With the apparent craziness done and over with, Arthur felt it was time to celebrate. Which meant he needed to go find mead, like he had told Morgana he would do. And despite what she said, he was not going to make a fool of himself. He never did, thank you very much. She was just being... Well he didn’t know. But she was being that.
It had taken some time to find the mead but find it he had. And he had bought as much as he could afford before returning to his apartment. For a moment he contemplated inviting Morgana over but that could also involve Lancelot and he had no desire to see either of them making goo goo eyes at each other. Or whatever they would do. Loathe as he was to admit it, Amy was right. Arthur cared about Morgana. It had made the betrayal she had pulled worse.
Pulling out one of the bottles, he pried the top off and began drinking after pouring it into a glass. It wasn’t Camelot mead but it was still good.
Morgana didn’t know why she felt worried about Arthur. It wasn’t as if they didn’t mock one another relentlessly or anything. Really, it was quite common for them, or, well, her. Because Arthur gave her so many opportunities that she just had to take them. It would be a crime not to. Still, she might as well go ensure that he didn’t go do something stupid now that the alcohol was back. She had meant it when she had found it amusing how many people seemed so reliant on the substance, just to make complete fools of themselves. It was fine once and awhile, weddings or birthdays, but some people took it to absurd degrees.
Why she had mentioned Sophia, who knew. But Arthur had wanted at least one incident and that was such an obvious one, that if he had forgotten it? No. Morgana didn’t forget things like that. Then he had gone silent and, okay, that worried her. Because a silent Arthur tended to get into more trouble than an obnoxious one.
As night fell, the sorceress, or priestess now? Between the alternate world and the notes the other Morgana had left her, it did seem she was more set for being a High Priestess now than she had been before. Regardless, Morgana decided that she needed to check up on the prince who would be king one day. Who would be her enemy in their world while here they had fallen into their old routine of banter and closeness. She had Lancelot, and truthfully she didn’t like to consider the possibility of him being taken by the Seal. But the same was said for Arthur. And Arthur was the one she had grown up with, though she was oblivious that he had feelings for her, that Lancelot had feelings for her. It was simply something that didn’t cross her mind.
Making her way to the floor Arthur was on, Morgana knocked on his door and waited. Hopefully he was home, she really didn’t feel like doing a locator spell on him to ensure he wasn’t getting into trouble.
In the time he had gotten home to the knock on the door Arthur had just finished downing his fifth glass. Setting the mug on the table he stumbled over to the door. He tried to peer through the peephole but he kept stumbling and swaying. Pushing himself off of the door he opened it and blinked when he saw Morgana on the other side. Grinning (drunkenly) he stepped aside so she could enter.
“What brings you here?” he asked, studying her. “Worried about me I bet,” he said in answer to his question. He shuffled back over to a new bottle and began working on opening it up. “Want some mead?” he asked, glancing back at her.
And he was already drunk. She could tell by his grin. But so far it didn’t seem like she needed to be embarrassed for him, which was always a good thing. And he hadn’t decided to make a complete idiot of himself on the boards which.. was more than most people did. And she did have the night of Marian’s birthday when she’d been rather tipsy and decided to make herself invisible and hide... still, irrelevant.
“Perhaps.”
Because why would she ever actually admit to being worried about Arthur? Morgana showed her intent only with those she trusted. Actions. Which were often brushed aside. At least in Camelot. Still, she did walk into his apartment and closed the door, taking a look around.
“How much did you buy? And.. how much have you had? And yes I’ll have some. If only because drinking alone is just sad.”
Smirking because, well, it was Morgana, she moved to where Arthur was and leaned against the doorframe. Watching and making mental note of how he was holding himself and if she was going to need to cut him off at any point in the night.
Finally getting the top off, which went flying across the room, Arthur looked over at Morgana before getting another mug out. He poured the mead into the glass and turned, holding the it out to her when she agreed to have some mead. “I’ve had one bottle so far. As for how much I bought...three bottles? Or was it four...” He shrugged and moved to pour himself another glass given he had served Morgana first. Stunningly, he only tripped once over the edge of the chair.
“And drinking alone isn’t sad,” he shot back. “I would have invited you but I figured your boyfriend Lancelot would have come with and I didn’t feel like sharing with two people. One other person sure. You sure. But not two.” His words were slurred and he all but collapsed on the couch and he stared at her.
“So. You were worried about me,” he smirked. “I know you were. That’s why you’re checking up on me.” He grinned. “You were worried about me, you were worried about me,” he said in a sing-song voice.
Taking the offered glass, she simply had rolled her eyes at the flying cap. Honestly, he was going to hurt himself if he kept at it. And then he wondered why she felt the need to check up on him. Taking a sip, Morgana then nearly choked on it at the comment Arthur made about her and Lancelot. It wasn’t the first time that someone had made that comment, and the two did live together and were close but....
Not thinking about it. Because what even was that? They never really discussed it which might feasibly be a bad thing. Answers were good, labels in this place when they didn’t need to be. Though it would be a lie to say nothing had changed following their trip to the alternate world. They just... didn’t think about it, or talk about it, and let it go the way it was. Which yes had most certainly changed after May. Though it seemed Arthur had feelings on the matter.
“I see, so it’s fine to share with me, but not Lancelot. Is there some male thing going on that makes it so?”
Because last she checked, the two got along, so it didn’t make sense why he wouldn’t want to drink with Lancelot as well. Not that she could really imagine Lancelot ever getting this drunk.
“Yes, I had to ensure you weren’t making a complete fool of yourself in case you took the comments this afternoon as a challenge.”
Arthur looked at her as he sipped some more on his mead. “No male thing,” he returned a bit defensively. “But I loved you first,” he murmured without thinking. He took another long drink and set the glass down. He was oblivious as to what he had just said (because when did he and Morgana ever admit how they felt about each other? They didn’t do that kind of thing) and settled back more on the couch.
“I never make a complete fool of myself. Unless someone puts me under a spell.” He paused a moment. “...which happens a lot, doesn’t it?” he murmured. Just how many times had he been hit with spells? He could probably look it up online but after stumbling across that finale of the show they were apparently from...seeing Morgana dead...
He grabbed the mug, ignoring the spilled mead in the process given it was still fairly full, and downed most of the glass.
“So. As you can see, not making a fool of myself.”
It really was a good thing that Morgana hadn’t been taking another drink at that moment. Because Arthur admitting to having loved her? To it seeming Lancelot loving her? That would have definitely caused her to choke on the mead. (Which needed more spices to it. But that was irrelevant at the moment) Arthur and Morgana didn’t do that sort of thing. They never had. And then.. well, he suddenly had Gwen and was pulling away. And there was too much, in Camelot, in Lawrence and she really didn’t want to die of choking on her mead from a throw away comment like that. Besides, what was to say it was true? People are less inhibited when they are drinking, and the truth can often come out as such.
Stupid psychology reading. But not getting into that right now. Instead just trying to... follow along with his sudden downward spiral to brooding.
“Probably.”
Mostly from Merlin was her guess. She knew how the show made her out to be. She knew her future. That she would betray everyone, try to create a world where magic wasn’t a crime and become just as bad as Uther. She knew it all, yet she still refused to acknowledge it. Because this wasn’t Camelot and she wasn’t chained by that role to who she could be here. Even so, Merlin did have a tendency to use his magic on a whim. And Gaius supported him. Despite the progress she had made, the reclaiming of herself, the betrayal and lies still dug deep.
And Arthur was about to make a mess of things.
“No, you’re just going to spill all the mead in your living room.”
Being fictional was difficult enough without the numerous versions of their lives and seeing how the one version they were from decided to make an insult of their life. She remembered the day Arthur found the finale. She had just come over because there were no words. To know they died together, fighting one another. To know how their story ended. Because it didn’t matter to Morgana how Arthur was in her life, just that he was.
“I will not spill all the mead in my living room,” he said. He resisted to stick his tongue out at her like he would have if he were a child. He finished off his glass and set it on the table before he sat back and ran a hand through his hair.
He was silent for a few minutes before he got up and turned to head to the mead bottle. Only to trip over his own two feet and he fell onto the floor with an oomph. Growling in annoyance, he pushed himself up and he glared at Morgana, daring her to say something. “Not, a word,” he added just in case his drunken glare didn’t do it. Which he doubted. Because drunk.
He moved over to the bottle and grabbed it before returning to the family room and pouring himself another glass.
“Mhmm, of course not.” Morgana really was at a loss and she didn’t like it. At all. She was used to always have a response and while she had plenty of ammunition, right now it would just be cruel. Arthur was so ridiculously drunk that it was just sad. And she didn’t know why. And she couldn’t fix it. Because even when all they did was fight and bicker, at the end of the day, the two were protective of the other and would try to fix their ills through whatever means necessary.
“Not a word.”
Instead, Morgana moved to the fallen prince and offered a hand to help him up. What he needed was to be sober. She knew of a few potions she could make to help with that, simple household items she could use. Which she may just have to investigate because she was feeling embarrassed for Arthur, which was never a good thing.
Arthur was surprised that Morgana hadn’t made some quip or jab at him yet. It...wasn’t like her. At all. He tilted his head, studying her as he accepted her help in getting up. “So. What’s on your mind? Usually you’d be making a joke or something at my expense now about falling flat on my face.”
Truth be told? He liked their bickering they did. It was how they communicated after all. Even if it did sometimes end in shouting matches.
“Talk to me Morgana. Why suddenly so silent and everything? S’not like you.” He took a long drink of his mead and set the glass down, studying her though he was swaying a bit given how drunk he was in such a short amount of time.
What was the point of bickering and insulting him if he was this drunk? Especially when she had a feeling it wasn’t just because he decided he missed mead. No, the level of intoxication clearly spoke to something a bit more deep than that.
“And it’s not like you to be this drunk. Even at feasts.”
Shaking her head, the brunette stood up and moved to the kitchen to make him something to sober up with. Just because she enjoyed mocking him didn’t mean she would do so when he was this out of sorts with himself. Returning to the living room, Morgana handed Arthur the glass she had made for him.
“Drink up.”
She was purposefully ignoring his question at the moment as she didn’t know exactly how to respond yet. Mostly because it wasn’t a conversation to have if he was drunk. She didn’t even know what to think about it, really. Regardless of Uther being their shared father, he had pushed them together. And Morgana wasn’t exactly the one who got the guys. Nor was it ever something she truly had considered. She simply knew that Lancelot balanced her. And that Arthur’s pulling away and betraying her had stung deeper than any of the betrayals of the others she learned of. Lying to her. Gwen lying to her. Those were the ones that hurt the most.
Feelings were complicated and she didn’t like complicated.
It was a testament to how much he had changed in that he took what Morgana held out to him without question. It was almost just like before all the lies and betrayals. He stared at the cup and drank everything before he set it on the table.
“...how did we get to where we were back home? With all the lies and betrayals we did to each other?” he asked, his voice quiet. “Bickering aside...we were friends...better than just friends...” He shifted and looked at her. They had avoided talking about this but they needed to. Much as neither wanted to.
“...I don’t want to get to that point here Morgana. No matter what happens here...I’m sick of the betrayals caused. That I know I caused.” He may act the fool at times but he knew he had done his share of lying to Morgana. Like not being honest about his feelings for Gwen. But even with those feelings, he couldn’t deny he still loved Morgana.
The fact Arthur had willingly drank from the cup was actually a shock. She expected protest or questions. Instead, he just trusted her as he used to. And she missed that. She really, really, missed that. When he had shown up, she’d been relieved and terrified knowing what she knew, had hidden it behind her mask of ice so that he wouldn’t see her hurt. Because as much as she loved and trusted Arthur, there were certain things she could never reveal, not when she was in full control of herself.
Being taken by Dark, embracing that side of her. Maleficent. All of it, they had shaped her. As had having Lancelot and Marian and Arthur and Loki there. Loki who was why she had gotten taken in the first place, unable to lose one of the few people who she could trust.
“I wish I knew. I haven’t lived it.”
And it was true. She could watch the show. Read the synopsis or reactions and could make a guess. She could feel the betrayals of the others, feel the hurt and yet.. It was the thing they never spoke about. They had the argument before she had been taken by the Carnival, when every hurt she had felt had finally been voiced, when he challenged her, who she was here, waiting for the lies to come back....
“I don’t want that either, though.”
Sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair. There were unspoken words in his comments. Being more than friends. They had been, in all of their denial and bickering. They had been one another’s rock, or Arthur had been that for her. Maybe it hadn’t been exactly that for him as Camelot had always been his home but for her...
“I know you don’t trust my magic, but I have been controlling it... better now because of what happened in May... I won’t be her. I refuse to be.”
As she spoke, the determination that was always within Morgana blazed in her eyes and voice. It was the thing she refused to be, her future. She didn’t have to be here and so she wouldn’t. She would make something of herself. More of the Morgana that she had read about in older legends. The friend. The healer. She did worry of course, that others from Camelot would show up. But barring Gwen, none of them were owed anything in her mind. She didn’t need to prove herself to any of the others. But to Lancelot and Arthur who were here? She had to.
His blue eyes were soft as he looked at her. “Then I hope to whatever power there is here that you never have to live that. I wish...hell. I wish that if the Seal ever sends you back you remember everything here so you can change the future. So that neither of us become like Uther. So we can be better.” He fell silent and stared at his hands.
“...I trust you Morgana. I always have.” He rubbed his hands together absently. He lifted his eyes to look at her. “And if you say you can control your magic, then I believe you.” He got up and began pacing around for something to do. He had seen the determination and fire in her eyes. He paused in his pacing and he looked at her.
“Here, you’ve never given me any reason to doubt you.” He wanted to say more. To go to her and kiss her all manly and impulsive like but he stayed where he was, watching her.
Truthfully, Morgana wouldn’t have known how to respond to such an action. It was so far out of the realm of possibility to her. The danced around issue. The insults, the bickering, the screaming matches. But she had always known that if she asked, Arthur would do whatever she needed. At least he had been. Even before she had shown up here though, she had noticed him pulling away. Not being around much. He said it wasn’t like her not to talk, to make jokes at his expense, but he never saw it when she worried about him. When she had stayed up night after night when he’d been ill, only forced by Gwen to finally go and sleep before she made herself sick.
The times she would try to talk, the times she let herself be vulnerable had been ignored. So why would she have talked when he was drunk? But he wasn’t anymore. Because he seemed to trust her again. It was a relief in a way, though she did debate asking him what he meant when he said he had loved her first. Was it something she should talk to Lancelot about? Probably. But that could make things even more complicated. That was the word of the day. Complicated.
“Here’s hoping to that, then.”
Not that her voice showed any sign of belief that it could happen. If their lives weren’t painted out for them, perhaps she could believe it. Believe she would change the future, that they could have made Camelot great together. Instead, people from the future showed up, painted the truth and it was all there for them to see.
“I can.”
It was so strange to be able to talk freely about her magic to Arthur. Oh sure, she had the other magic users in Lawrence. She could even talk to Lancelot. But even though she had been in Lawrence a year, had been using that time to master her abilities beyond simple control, she knew that she could lose it. Just the right incentive, one of which was pacing in front of her. It was also nice, though. To not have to hide herself. To live in fear of execution.
“Nor do I plan to give you one.”
Arthur nodded some. “I know you won’t.” He rested a hand on the wall and stared at the floor for a moment before he looked at her. “...I don’t want our future to end up like it did on that show,” he said, his voice subdued. “The two of us fighting, on opposite sides ready to cut the other down...”
Whatever she had given him had driven the cloud the mead had caused away and he could remember what he had said. He had said the word. He needed to say it when he was sober. So that Morgana knew. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. But as much as he wanted to say the words, they wouldn’t come as easily as they had when drunk.
“Both of us dying alone...”
Words rarely came as easily when one was sober. Inhibitions returned. Barriers and walls to protect oneself. Still, she did have to scoff at the comment about their future based on the show. Because if there was one thing Morgana had looked into once she had heard the strange Merlin’s version of her, it was how she was portrayed in other versions and it seemed more of a recent development that her persona was meant to be the complete antagonist. At least to the extent the show went as well as the other one, Camelot. Where Maleficent had her face.
“The most disgusting thing about that is if you read the legends, the show just makes it so....” She couldn’t even find the word because it angered her so much. To know that their lives were in the hands of ‘creators’, who decided that for whatever reason, they would put them against one another, ignore everything that they had built and for what? Broken story arcs? The fact that they could look at their lives and follow the theme, see things and people as plot devices because there was so much source material and history and legend.
“Still, you at least had Merlin at your side.”
Because she had seen. Both of them dying. Together. Her alone, Merlin putting the final blow because of some idiotic dragon telling him that she was the darkness to his light and paving the way for the fight. Merlin taking the role that she did in the legends. To send Arthur to Avalon. To eternity. Because in their ending, she was nothing but vengeful and hateful. Arthur had Merlin, the one who was always there. The one who betrayed her in ways she couldn’t imagine. Who had known and let her think herself crazy because Gaius did the same. The one who listened to a dragon. Who poisoned her. Played the foil. Both of them cowards. So was she bitter about that? Of course. Morgana had a feeling she never would let go of that anger because Morgana wasn’t known for her letting go of things.
He gave a small snort. “Aye. Merlin. The same man who had magic and refused to help you with yours,” he said. Like Morgana, since discovering that he and Gaius had known about Morgana’s powers and done nothing to help her? Guide her? He was rather livid about that. He was ashamed to call Merlin friend with how he treated Morgana. He should have said something, done something to help her.
He looked at her. “I’m so sorry that future happened,” he whispered, unconsciously taking a step towards her. “I just...” He gave a small, slightly amused laugh. “I suddenly find myself wishing I had some sort of magic to go and change that future for you.”
And that was something Morgana hadn’t expected. She knew that Arthur cared. Had come for her when she’d been taken by Dark, though she had figured it was mostly his guilt that caused him to. They bickered, or she mocked, her said no, they did their banter and it was almost normal. Maybe it was. Because once Merlin had shown up, things had changed. One there were the different magic attacks that had happened. But just the entire dynamic of their home.
“So you do listen.”
Because hadn’t that been the start of the argument? Yes he had sent her the card once she was back from Dark. But him mocking her for being jealous of Merlin because Gaius took him under his wing and left her to think she was insane. That she was going to die.
“Still, you didn’t know. You won’t know. And he will be there by your side through everything, lying and hiding instead of maybe trusting you.”
Had she been able to go to Arthur, she would have. She knew that he was better than Uther, how many times had she said as much? How many times had she pushed him to make the decision that would be better, to defy his father’s tyranny?
“Even so, we can’t change our future....” And that was the shame of it. Nor could they change the past. Where Morgana knew, where she went to Arthur and he wouldn’t turn on her. Hearing Arthur saying he almost wished he had magic to change it though?
“Arthur, it wouldn’t do any good. Being his son or not, your father would have had you executed if you used it. His fear and hatred.” He seemed to have known of Gaius’ former days of practicing but when he stopped using, when he hid it, he had been granted his freedom. “There’s no use wishing for a future we won’t have in Camelot. We know how that plays out.”
With that she finally took a drink of her mead. Because this was too heavy a conversation. Even if she could see the wheels turning in Arthur’s head just as she always had. This time there was no manipulation to make him do the choices she wanted, the placed words to shape him into the man and king she knew him capable of. It was just the talk they kept avoiding and she still didn’t know what brought it about. Whatever had caused him to drink so much mead was her guess.
Arthur was silent as Morgana spoke of what would have happened to him had he had magic back home. He took another step and looked at her. “I don’t care about what would happen to me. If it would help you, help at least one person, it’s worth the sacrifice. Isn’t that what you were always pushing me for? To be the kind of prince, the kind of king to valued every life in his kingdom, not just those who were born royal?” he demanded.
If there was one thing he liked about this place, it gave him time to think so he could think things over and sort things out. No one else. Him. He didn’t have responsibilities here other than being ready to help defend the innocent. He had no kingdom to run yet he could still work at being the kind of man that Morgana foresaw him as.
“Just because we know doesn’t mean we can’t try Morgana,” he murmured. He watched her take a drink. “I just wish I could save you from what awaits back home.” He bowed his head and sighed some.
“Do what’s right and damn the consequences, but if you would have gotten yourself killed and just another martyr to Uther’s fear, you wouldn’t be able to lead a new age of Camelot!”
Did he not get it? Morgana would always choose the path that she felt needed to be taken and damn what happened. But if it was to get a better ruler than Uther on the throne, them dying before they had that chance would just be a waste of potential and life.
“And I would never wish that type of uncertainty and terror on you, Arthur. Never.”
Not this her. Not the one who still cared and was still loyal to him. The one who would be shaped by her rage and resentment, with no influence beyond others just as disgusted, she wouldn’t care. She had wanted them to feel just as she had felt. But from when Morgana was from, what she had felt, she could never wish that on Arthur.
“Then you would need to save me from myself and that would be quite the task.”
In the end, it was her rage and betrayal that condemned her. The need for revenge. The need to bring a world where magic wasn’t a sin was a noble cause, but her methods were her own doing. Or would be. Still, she needed to soften her voice, to get him to listen.
“Arthur, we have a chance at a life here. No Uther to push his agenda. We can’t live that if we’re wishing to change a future we know we can’t.”
She did worry, Arthur’s perchance for staying in all the time. He may be discovering things, working through his prejudices and that was good. But this was a chance at a life they wouldn’t get in Camelot and she wanted him to take it.
“You could have led that age though!” he shot back. “You’ve always been more level headed and put others before yourself better than I ever have!” He looked down, running both hands through his hair.
He arched a brow at her words of him having to save her from herself being quite the task. “Maybe but not impossible. I’ll do everything I can to ensure you don’t become that. Not here. Not now not ever.”
When she spoke of having a chance of a life here, he looked at her, his face unreadable. “Sometimes life is only worth living if you have something to live for. Or someone.” Without another thought or caring about the consequences, he closed the distance between them and kissed Morgana.
The notion of her ruling was laughable. Not because she wouldn’t try for it. But it was because Arthur was saying she was level headed. Just because she was better at keeping her temper than Arthur didn’t mean that she was level headed. Not by a long shot. That was Lancelot. That was why he balanced her out, Morgana with her rash decisions and burning need for revenge. Just look at her trying to kill Uther the first time because of what he did to Gwen’s father. Chaining her up because she defied him.
“And you always were better at playing the political game. I just know how to use what is at my disposal.”
Words. Words alone could be dangerous. And she always knew it. Just because she was Uther’s ward didn’t mean she had free reign. Far from it. She just had a well crafted mask to keep from slipping, a public persona just like all of them.
“Besides, you were learning to put others before yourself.”
She had no idea how they had gotten to this conversation. Or why now. Was it the lack of alcohol? Was it the alcohol? Was this why he had been drinking so much? Thinking about their future back home?
“Arthur....” Or he could get the unreadable expression on his face, well, Morgana wasn’t a fan of. Especially when he kissed her. Because if there was one thing the priestess was good at, it was being able to predict what Arthur would do in basically any situation. And this? This was definitely not one of the options she had expected. It made what he said before seem that much more real for him, but didn’t he realize? He had left her behind and she had moved on from whatever it was they might have had.
Stepping back, Morgana took Arthur’s hands and looked at him.
“I shouldn’t be your only reason for living a life here, Arthur.”
She was thankful that this hadn’t been her first kiss, but it still did have to make things all the more complicated than they already had been in the morning. Because there was the whole sibling thing, that... did he know about that? If he had seen he would, but it wasn’t as if feelings just died. Even so, she was getting a headache from this.
Arthur watched her, holding her hands when she took his. “I didn’t say you would always be the sole reason but every beginning needs a start,” he returned. His eyes were soft as he stared at her. “Morgana...you’ve always been there for me and...well I’ve always been too stupid to see it.”
He gave her hands a small squeeze, not wanting to let them go but ready to if it was what she wanted. “You’ve always been helping me, pushing me to be a better man than my father. That is something I can never repay Morgana.” He licked his lips slowly. “I meant what I said a few minutes ago...” He couldn’t remember exactly how he had phrased it but he knew that he had told her he loved her.
Did he have to do this? Of course he did. He was Arthur. Pig headed Arthur who held onto things despite evidence he shouldn’t. Just like Morgana held onto her pain and anger and lashed out. Yeah, that was just so healthy. It was easier to see that here. Not that it would change much if she lost certain people, one of which who was standing before her and holding her hands and.. she didn’t even know what he expected now.
“Arthur. We’re related. Even if Lancelot and I didn’t have... whatever it is we have... And I know you know that.”
Because he had looked ahead. If Arthur had learned that in his own time or not, she didn’t know. But the fact remained, Uther had lied to them. Had pushed them together despite that fact but that didn’t mean.... Life had changed so much for Morgana since being in Lawrence. For the better, and she wanted Arthur to have that as well, but if he was holding onto these feelings from home, or finding them again, or.. whatever it was he had done...
“You may have loved me first but you moved on, you left, and I moved on. We can’t go back to how we were, not completely and I know you know that. I can be your friend, sister, confidant, but I can’t be who you want me to be. And I’m not going to. I meant it, we have a chance at a life here and I plan to take it, wherever that may go.”
When she spoke of them being related he frowned. Yes, he had heard some of the sites mention that but he didn’t put much stock in them. After all, look at how many stories there were about their lives. But then her words sank in and he let go of her hands and took a step back.
“I see.”
He moved to the kitchen where the bottle of mead was, grabbing his glass and filling it. “I won’t keep you then from your life. There’s the door.” He picked the glass up and downed it in a few gulps, no longer wanting to talk.
And of course now he was acting like a sullen child. Honestly. He couldn’t just expect things to return to how they were! Or no, he could. He was Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon who saw treason in truth and apparently Morgana was just meant to... what? Sit back and wait? They both knew she wasn’t that woman. She had too much spirit, she was headstrong. And right now she was getting close to losing her patience because she was trying to get Arthur to live a life he wouldn’t have in Camelot and he was stuck in the past. Finding peace within herself or not, Morgana was still opinionated and if Arthur was going to act like this, then she would respond as such.
“You are part of that life, Arthur. Just because it’s not the way you want it to be, I do love you. But of course that doesn’t matter, does it? You’re going to sulk because you don’t want to face the truth even after you were the one to move on and lie? I am no one’s consolation prize.”
Glaring because it always ended like this, Morgana just shook her head.
“It is actually possible to have more than one person in your life, you’re just too pig headed to see that. And here I thought you had maybe matured some in your time here, I guess I was wrong. But maybe you’ll see that, and hopefully it won’t take me getting kidnapped by a crazy circus for you to realize you overstepped your bounds.”
He didn’t see, of course not. But like it or not, Morgana would always worry because he was connected to her. If he wanted to be a petulant child right now though, who was she to stop him? With that, she went to the door and stopped looking over her shoulder,
“Try not to drink yourself to death.”
That said, Morgana left and headed back to the apartment she shared with Lancelot. She needed a distraction.