Chapter Text
'I suppose you're impatient. You'll soon get everything you want.'
'This was never about I want,' his sister denies. 'This was always -'
'About proving destiny wrong?,' he completes, resigned.
'Destinies often fail to happen, brother. This was always about bringing magic back, no matter what the cost. This was always about seeing someone suitable for our people on the throne.'
'Morgana doesn't care about the people. Not anymore.'
Or she's convinced herself so well of it she'd do anything to prove it.
'Camelot's people are not kin.'
Merlin keeps from reminding his sister there are other magic users in Camelot apart from the three of them. He does not want to repeat a precedent argument. What he wants is to know if: 'is this the end?'
'What do you mean?'
'Morgana is a Pendragon. You're going to put her on the throne. You can't let Arthur fight back for his right to the throne, so you'll have to get rid of him. I can't let you kill him so I'll have to smuggle him out.'
'Brother-'
'This? Us? You've finally found a way to get what you've wanted since Uther's death. Don't deny it. We've been on opposite sides until now, Morgause. But this? There's no coming back from this. So I'm asking you: is this the end for us?'
*
Morgause finds herself stumped by her brother once again.
'You can choose to stay with us,' she offers. 'With me.'
Even as she says it, Morgause knows her brother won't.
Merlin gives her a fond smile, his eyes soft on her. He shakes his head. 'You know I can't.'
Why not?!, she wants to demand. Arthur is not the man you think he is. You'll be ruined if you stay close to him.
But they have had that conversation more than once and her brother has never faltered in his faith in Arthur.
(Her brother was always too loyal. It's only her fault she didn't manage to shift his loyalty to Arthur Pendragon to herself.
Maybe things would have turned differently if they had met before Merlin could meet Arthur.
She'll never know.)
Now, here they stand, on opposites sides with their own Pendragon to champion and pit against one another.
Fitting.
'This doesn't have to be the end,' she tells him, even if she can't manage to put enough conviction in her words.
In truth, she doesn't believe it.
The look in her brother's eyes turns pitiful. Morgause does not have it in herself to be angry at it.
You know it is, she can almost hear him say.
Her brother keeps from saying so.
She does not thank him for it.
(It's one last favor they do for each other.)
She feels like this will be the last time she'll see her brother, even if she knows it's not. She can feel time and opportunities pass her by, can feel their relationship dissolve.
She wants this to stop.
'I don't want this to be the end,' she confesses.
Her brother takes in a ragged breathe. 'Me neither. Sister of mine.'
She offers him a tender if brittle smile.