Chapter Thirty

A/N: No reviewers.

While the castle bustled with preparations, each servant seeming to have a dozen tasks to accomplish in only a few days, the only place that remained silent was the battlements. There were more guards on patrol, of course, on the lookout for any other attack that could come to thwart the crowning of the new king, but aside from that, the place was silent. Arthur supposed that bode well, their defences needing so few men; perhaps peace had come to them at last.

The threat of war might have lifted a weight from his shoulders, but it was only one among a thousand on the horizon. It was a title he had been groomed for since the very day he was born, and yet now the moment had finally come, he felt little more than a boy again.

"Arthur." The soft voice was infinitely familiar, and it brought a smile to his face even through the troubles. "You know, you've spent your whole life waving to adoring crowds; I wouldn't think you'd need any more practice."

Arthur chuckled gently, though the sound was almost devoid of humour. It had always been Morgana's way, to try and distract his attentions with a jape or a sarcastic comment, but a hundred of them could not have eased his pounding head.

"I wanted to get away from the castle for a while." Arthur explained, leaning further into the stone edge of the balcony. "This is the only place I could think of that would be discreet enough."

"What, standing on the edge of the battlements where half of Camelot can see?" Morgana pressed, her smile gentle. "It wouldn't be my idea of discreet."

"Alright then," Arthur conceded, raising his eyebrows a little as he trained his eyes on the distant mountains. "I wanted to be somewhere only the people I actually wish to speak to could find me."

Morgana sighed, resting a hand atop Arthur's forearm, where it still rested against the balcony stone. She knew there was far more to his words than he was saying, but she could not be the one to put words into his mouth. Emotions were a difficult thing, especially for a man raised to be a knight and ruler; he had to learn to speak them for himself.

And it was not long before he did, his gaze falling from the distant horizon to the people milling about in the town below. His people, he had to remind himself. It still felt wrong even to think it.

"I know my father wasn't loved by his people." Arthur's kingly voice was barely a whisper. "He was barely loved by anyone at all. But the fact remains, he kept this kingdom free from war for close to three decades. The people must thank him for that, at least."

'Not all the people,' Morgana snapped inside her head, thinking of the scores who had been executed in the courtyard below them, hundreds more in the fires of the Great Purge. Instead she awarded the strongest compliment she could think to give the late king. "He tried to do what he thought was right. And he loved you more than anything."

"Except you." Arthur argued, almost instinctively. Long after he had stopped treating her as his sister, the king had continued to treat her as his child. "I know what he did to the sorcerers was wrong. He persecuted them for something they couldn't control and that is one example he set that I will never follow. But all those other decisions seemed to come so naturally to him, and… I don't know if I can keep the scales in balance."

"Arthur, you were born to do this." Morgana whispered, leaning in closer to him. "Yes, your father set a fearsome example, but you don't have to follow his lead. You can be your own man, just as you always have been."

With a tearful smile, Arthur leaned towards her, capturing her lips with his own. It was more a desperate kiss than a passionate one, with little romantic in the gesture at all, but Morgana did not complain. They had been through so much in that single day; only time could heal the wounds, but it was those sweet moments that helped to dull the pain.

They had broken apart, their hands still clasped together, when Arthur shook his head a little, as if he were emerging from underwater. He looked over at Morgana, his forehead creased in sympathy. "Morgana, I'm sorry. I never even asked how you were feeling."

"Why would you ask me? He was your father." Morgana retorted, a little confused. Another beat of silence and she realised, her eyes turning downcast, studying the small weeds creeping through the cracks of the balcony's base. "I wish it didn't have to happen that way. She loved me so much, she tried to do right by me even when she did wrong. I wish it didn't have to be me that killed her."

"You didn't have a choice, Morgana." Arthur comforted a little, separating his hands from hers and laying them on her arms. "She attacked the citadel, she killed the king and she would have killed again. You had to stop her."

"Maybe," the young woman nodded, avoiding his eye. "But it doesn't make it any easier to bear that I killed the only family I had in the world. However strong my motives, I will regret that for the rest of my life."

"We both will." Arthur agreed. They were speaking of different things, he knew, but the emotions behind them were identical. "But there's nothing we can do for them now. Those who are dead, they're dead. It's those who are left we have to think about now."

Looking at the Lower Town sprawling beneath, it was hard to believe the agony they had endured. The people of Camelot were nothing if not resilient, taking each deadly blow they were dealt and rising again to face the next.

"You have to do this, for their sake and in their honour." Morgana professed, watching a little boy and little girl playing with wooden swords. Those children might never be kings or princesses, but they would be safe and happy, and that would be enough; the king's lady was sure of it.

And yet the king himself did not seem so certain. His eyes were not fixed on the children, but on the young woman who had stood beside him since they were nothing but children themselves. "I will, I promise. But not just them, and not just me. I will do this for you, with you by my side."

It was not the great romantic speech he might have given, had they had more time. Merlin and Gwen would come looking for them soon, tearing them from each other's embrace and back to their newfound duties. But the words held just as much weight as if Arthur had called them from the battlements for all the kingdom to hear.

With a joyful cry, Morgana leapt at Arthur, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing their lips together. This kiss was all romance, the sealing of a promise, and the hope of a world just creeping over the horizon.

A/N: Last chapter next time! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review!