Archive of Our Own

“If I were a boy

even just for a day

I'd roll out of bed in the morning

And throw on what I wanted and go”

Long before the sun rises, she is out of bed, brushing her hair carefully choosing her clothes. Her assistant is ironing the outfit and running through the schedule for the day. She cites keynote topics for conversation or priority concerns for each event she is attending. They discuss the press and the political climate casually for over an hour while they continue putting a lot of effort into the way she will look when she leaves the sanctuary that is her bedroom. Every black hair is pinned back, and every curve of her body is tastefully accentuated to be beautiful but modest. She takes deep breaths and plastered a shining smile to her lips before she turns the knob.

“I’ll be in the background anytime you need me, ma’am,” her assistant said.

“As you always are, Gwennie,” her voice is as silky smooth as her youthful features. The quick glance she tosses to the side is sincere and honest, but there’s something more glittering in her eyes. Perhaps it’s power. Perhaps it’s sadness. Whatever it is, she never says a word about it.

Her assistant, Gwennie, is her opposite in many ways, at least on the outside. Gwennie is golden brown in tone, and pretty much everything else. Her hair is bouncy and rich, like hardwood, and her eyes are as brown as freshly tilled soil. They, however, have much in common, too. For example, they have the same political values - socially and fiscally. It also helps that they have similar hobbies, so sometimes the schedule changes and they spend the day “working” from home.

Though, her home is a palace.

The instant she steps out of her room, she is met by her half-brother. His voice is obnoxiously loud, but not as obnoxious as his idea of proper dress. “Morgana! Do you roll out of bed looking like that or do you have a fairy that waves a magic wand?”

Morgana drops her chin but not her grin. “I wish it was that easy, my lord, but not everyone can make being a royal icon look so effortless.”

He snorts and shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t envy me. I’m awarded leniency because of how much work I have to do every day. What was your job, again?”

The animosity is as thick as butter, thick enough to cut, but Morgana slices through it with wit, as she does most other things. It’s her natural defense. “My purpose is my own, Arthur, and you know that quite well.”

“Your role is important, but your job is without a title. The people love it, and for that, I do not envy you , sister. If I had to please the people with my every word, I think I would spend more time picking out my outfits too,” he pats her back before strolling past her. Morgana tightens her features and takes a sharp, but quiet, breath through her nose. Gwennie comes out of the room through the crack and locks the door behind her.

“What a royal arse, might I say?” she mutters, ferocity apparent in her features - furrowed brows, pursed lips, reddening cheeks. Morgana takes her assistant by the shoulders and tilts her head ever so slightly to the side. The contact draws Gwennie to look her in the eyes.

Morgana assures her without speaking. They straighten themselves and head down the hall, the same direction that Arthur had gone. To be sure to get things off of her chest, as she often does, Morgana makes her last private commentary on the matter. “The arrogant prince at least recognizes that he could not be a successful Lady.”

“Drink beer with the guys

And chase after girls

I'd kick it with who I wanted

And I'd never get confronted for it

Cause they'd stick up for me”

Gwennie comes back to the car with Arthur and his assistant, Merlin, in tow. Her hair is messy and her sweats are tight against her skin. Even in his hour of embarrassment and total shame, Arthur can’t resist himself in commenting on her “sexual allure.” Merlin whacks upside his head and scoffs. “You’ve just been arrested, mate! You’re the bloody crowned prince and you’ve just been bailed out in secret by your sister!”

“Half-sister!” her growls through his drunken laughter.

Gwennie climbs over Morgana’s lap and snarls at the prince. Merlin sits between Arthur and the door. That’s how he lost him, apparently. Gwennie had been called by Merlin the instant he was picked up, and Gwennie had called Morgana. As the Lady of the palace, she often partners with the PR and Social Media Team to address matters of the house and family - a job that Crowned Prince Arthur bloody Pendragon thinks is useless. He won’t be feeling that way when Lady Morgana whispers her sentiments and his regrets into a microphone is thousands of flashing lights seeking a misstep in her words to attack Arthur’s judgment.

It will be hard to speak on his behalf after the events that transpired at the small corner-shoppe pub. “Merle, darling, can you tell me exactly what happened. I need every detail if I’m going to put a positive spin on this in the morning. Tabloids will be grabbing at every single shred of this story until they can manipulate what happened to destroy his image.”

“Why can’t I tell you what happened?” Arthur grumbles in defiance.

It is Morgana’s turn to laugh at the prince. “You’ve just been arrested. I don’t care to hear your side of things because you’ve done enough damage.”

“It’s nothing you can’t clean up. Besides, it was nothing anyway. They had no right to arrest a prince!”

Arthur’s thoughts of himself are high and mighty, to say the least, and Morgana often strives to say the least about him whenever possible. Their relationship is mired by their sarcastic sentiments. The public does not know that Morgana and Arthur are half-siblings, but that is a family secret that will go to the grave if the family can help it. It’s better for the public to think of Lady Morgana as the adopted child that Arthur’s deceased mother couldn’t bear to leave in the streets. Morgana didn’t remember much about her life before becoming an official member of the royal family. Her adoption was the focus of tabloids for the months that it took for the family to officially bring her in and figure out what roles she would play as she grew older.

As it would become, Morgana was effectively another cog in the royal family machine, and little more. She didn’t mind it, though, because it did come with a freedom that Prince Arthur did not enjoy. As he sat there silent next to her, she could see the agony of his imperfection glazing his eyes. All he wanted to be was good - and the poor lamb had no idea how to do it.

Merlin, or Merle as the family preferred to call him, begins describing their trip to the pub. Arthur had asked to stop at the pub after being grilled during an interview alongside his father. Unknownst to Arthur, he was asked about relationships and marriages, and the potential arranged marriages. His Majesty and King, Uther, is not very forgiving or understanding about Arthur’s wants and needs. It is one of the few aspects of Arthur’s life that Morgana truly pities. He was upset about it, drank a fair amount, tried flirting with a woman in his state, but the woman’s boyfriend came up and started insulting Arthur. It escalated pretty quickly from there, and what with Arthur’s being a trained fighter, he leveled the other gent pretty quickly.

Hence the arrest.

“There’ll be charges,” Morgana sighs, rubbing her forehead with closed eyes. “Arthur, he’s going to sue you for this.”

“Fine. We’ve got the money,” Arthur sputters, sounding as sick as he probably looks.

Gwennie leans forward and scolds him as well, not that he needs any more brashness, but she’ll serve it up to him anyway. She’s not his biggest fan by a longshot. “He’s not going to just sue you, you bloody numpty! He’s going to press charges! Criminal charges!”

Merle laughs it off. “Of course he is, that’s why he started the fight. Not a person in this country wouldn’t recognize this bloke. He started a fight because if he course rile up the prince he could rouse a hefty paycheck out of him too. It was for the money.”

“It’s always more than money, Merle, and you know as much,” Morgana scolds. She glances over at Gwennie and shakes her head, black hair flat to the sides of her head and pulled back in a perfect ponytail. Even coming out in the middle of the night, Lady Morgana couldn’t risk being seen as anything less than prepared and poised in the face of the unexpected. It’s her unspoken duty to the family - her unspoken job.

Gwennie puts a hand on Morgana’s leg to comfort her, and it is so very much so. Sometimes, Morgana is convinced her only friend is her assistant, and she hopes that it isn’t a friendship of convenience only. Gwennie gets her through the hardest nights. Merle should’ve stepped in and done more to stop the pub fight and made a bigger effort to prevent things from coming to this, but he, too, relies on Morgana’s ability to do what she does best.

“If I were a boy

I think I could understand

How it feels to love a girl

I swear I'd be a better man”

Gwennie comes back to work a day early from vacation, sunburnt and sloppy. Morgana doesn’t question it when she shows up in her private suite with a bottle of rose and two wine glasses, but instead slinks out of her bed and pours a generous amount for each of them. It is Morgana who speaks first. “How lucky I am to have your company, love. What should we do today?”

Morgana runs her hand over her assistant’s shoulders, a friendly gesture they both feel comfortable doing with one another. After Arthur’s arrest a year ago, Gwennie and Morgana had to work a significant amount of overtime watching his every move and adjusting schedules to essentially fit two peoples’ worth of obligations. It was at Uther’s request, though Morgana had intended to do as much anyway. It was another subtle reminder that he was her father, even if nobody could know the truth of it.

Gwennie takes her glass and gulps it back effortlessly. She had requested two weeks off to travel with her boyfriend, a young man named Lance. He was essentially a nobody, a common man, but quite enchanting. It was easy for Morgana to support him as a boyfriend to her assistant. He was understanding of the demands that Gwennie’s job had, and he was more than willing to be there for Gwennie in whatever way he needed. Morgana called in favors for him to repay him for the free work he did to help both Gwennie and herself. He had seemed like the perfect gentleman.

“He proposed,” Gwennie finally says as she gasps for air. “He asked me to marry him in front of a crowd!”

Morgana winces.

“I still live with my parents!” she proclaims. “I’m not ready for marriage!”

Tears begin flowing over her cheeks. Her brown curls are sticking to her face and her shoulders are shaking with her sobs. Morgana steps away to fetch some kleenex and a brush, offering only to care for Gwen silently. It is no secret that Gwennie is not a fan of public anything . She doesn’t mind her work being public, as her job is as a Public Relationships Personal Assistant, but her personal life is off-limits. Lance knew this. He was more than vaguely aware.

Morgana supposes he did this as a trap, or because he wanted her to break up with him. Either way, his choice was intentional. Gwennie is a brilliant woman, too, and recognized this immediately. Instead of pressing her to process this experience aloud, Morgana gently pulls the messy bun from Gwennie’s hair and pulls the brush through her hair. Today, her only job is to be there for her friend.

Gwennie and Morgana are silent for a very long time. After Morgana brushes Gwennie’s hair, she courts her to her bed and invites her to rest. Even though she doesn’t say it, the first place Gwennie has come to after getting off the early flight she booked is the palace. She needs proper rest in a proper bed, and it would be ignorant to think that Morgana’s bed wasn’t more comfortable than the one she’s been sleeping in at the hotel or at her own home. Once Gwennie is snoozing away, Morgana continues through her normal routine, making sure to lay out a nice change of clothes for Gwennie and leaving the bottle of rose near the bedside table for when she wakes up.

Morgana takes it upon herself to personally prepare lunch and ensure that Gwennie doesn’t have to go anywhere or do anything she doesn’t want to do, so she carts the food to her bedroom along with some board and card games that were kept in the leisure room of the palace. Nobody uses them anyway. Gwennie is still asleep when she gets back in the room, but her phone is buzzing on the table. Lo and behold, it is Lance. Morgana takes it upon herself to answer.

“This it The Lady Morgana, of the house of Pendragon, may I inquire about the purpose of your call?” she says in her coldest tone of voice. There is silence on the other end, waiting for her to be joking - waiting for her to loosen her grip or soften up. She isn’t. She won’t.

Lance coughs, “Is Guinevere available to speak?”

Morgana turns around to see Gwennie spread wide across her bed, mouth agape, snoring softly. “She is currently indisposed.”

“Can you let her know I called?” he asks, desperation oozing from through his teeth and dripping from his lips. He doesn’t sound like he’s crying.

“Nope,” Morgana says before clicking the phone off. Gwennie stirs a bit but ultimately remains asleep. She takes the cloche from the top of the plate of french toast and fresh fruit parfait bowls. The sweet smell will wake her in due time, Morgana is sure.

This is the kind of life Gwennie deserves and she hopes that it lifts her spirits.

“I'd listen to her

Cause I know how it hurts”

There’s not saying when it started, or what changed, but when Merle went on vacation to visit family for a few weeks, Gwennie stepped in and offered to take the hours. She said she needed them to help pay bills at home. Her father was sick, her brother had just moved back in, and things were not going well for him in the ways of employment. Morgana wanted to give her a bonus, but Gwennie insisted on earning the money fairly. There was no changing her mind once it was set.

Like that time she took Lance back after a few months because he texted her on her birthday. Or the second time they broke up because she was convinced that he was going through the motions for some ulterior motive (he was just rebounding after losing his job, Morgana had done her digging). Instead of arguing with Gwennie, she let her go and do the work that she needs to do for Arthur. He has a lovely entourage of security so she mostly briefs him between events and does Morgana’s work remotely. Morgana can do much of her job on her own during slow times, but it makes for great quality time with Gwennie.

Alas, it is no matter to Morgana.

At least not until she is passing through the lobby and Arthur bursts through the door behind Gwennie.

“You’re overreacting!” he’s shouting at her, hands in the air waving wildly.

“ I’m overreacting? You think I am the one over reacting? You bloody challenged the Secretary of State’s personal assistant to a duel!” Gwennie screamed at him, her yes wider than I’ve ever seen them. She points at him and insults his integrity, his intelligence, and his inheritance to the throne. She calls him names. She belittles him. She gets in his face and screams at him until she’s red in the face. Arthur stands there, head shaking and lips curling into a smile.

When she’s done, he snarls at her and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re just like her .”

When he points at me, I merely scoff. “If you meant to belittle her and my name, Arthuer, all you’ve done is show her honor. Sod off, why don’t you?”

As soon as Arthur is out of sight, Gwennie growls. Her primal anger at the renowned crowned prince is raw and seething. She paces and stomps and laughs sporadically. Before she begins shouting again, Morgana asks if she’d like to join her for a walk in the gardens. Gwennie agrees and forces Morgana to keep a fast pace walking through the halls of the palace.

While in the garden, Gwennie ranted about what a prat Arthur was during the day. She moaned and groaned about how incorrigible and arrogant he could be about literally any topic. “I asked him if he fancied buttoning his shirt up all the way to visit kids in the hospital and he asked me if I fancied unbuttoning my own. Can you believe the nerve?”

“I can, I’m afraid,” Morgana whispers in reply, keeping her expression sympathetic. Gwennie eventually sits down on a nearby bench and starts crying. It’s not the beautiful sort of cry that makes women look vulnerable or cute, oh no. Snot is running over her lip, tears are smearing her make-up and her face gets pink with embarrassment as she falls apart. The Lady has seen her assistant through many hard times, but never seen her breakdown so badly. “Oh, my dear,” she says as she joins her on the bench.

“I can’t work with him anymore! He’s an arse!” she sputters, wiping her nose on her sleeve and keeping her face turned away.

Morgana nods even though she can’t be seen. There’s no easy solution for Gwennie because she needs the money, but she doesn’t want it handed to her. If she could wave a magic wand or cast a spell to make Gwennie’s life easier, Morgana knows she’d do so in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, magic isn’t real and there’s no snap of the fingers that could solve her problem to the satisfaction of all parties.

So she makes a suggestion, one that hopefully Gwennie would accept. “I think you’re due for a negotiation on your contract. You’re overdue for a pay raise, I’m willing to expect. I’ll put a word in to the right people tomorrow morning. Just make sure to submit a formal request for a review in writing to my email tonight. If anyone asks questions, I’ll cite Arthur’s belligerence and all mouths in the room will shut.”

There are many strings The Lady Morgana of the House of Pendragon can pull, and Gwennie’s pay increase is only one of the numerous favors she could call in at a moment’s notice. At that, it’s a very small favor. The American’s have a phrase - “There are bigger fish to fry” - but ensuring Gwennie’s financial stability and comfort is not one of them. It’s a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. Staff turnover reflects poorly on the family, anyway.

Gwennie’s emotions slow and she’s able to nod her head after a few minutes. “Yeah, yeah, uhm, I can do that.”

Morgana puts a hand on Gwennie’s knee and squeezes. “You deserve one after working with such a wanker, anyway.”

“God, he is the worst ,” she says through a bubble of laughter. They exchange warm smiles. Their walk back to Morgana’s private quarters is just as their walk to the gardens, but only because Gwennie wants to get her face cleaned up before she heads home for the day. It is a great relief when Morgana has her smiling and in good spirits when she finishes for the day. She’s so thankful for it, she tells Gwennie to take the day off to spend time with her family.

“When you lose the one you wanted

Cause he's taken you for granted

And everything you had got destroyed”

For the first time, Morgana has her arms crossed over her chest and she’s staring Gwennie down with fire in her eyes. Not only did she catch Arthur and Gwennie in a very intimate situation, but she’s just overhead Gwennie taking a private phone call…

From Lance…

“Have I done something wrong, my lady?” Gwennie asks, unsure what would upset Morgana so greatly.

She’s not sure she can really explain it herself. Gwennie has been her confidante for years - since Morgana was sixteen years old! This was Gwennie’s professional contract. They’ve only ever known each other. They’ve become each other’s best friends, despite the difference in their statuses. As far as Morgana was concerned, their affection for one another transcended titles and social class.

Perhaps those feelings were only felt on her side.

“You’ll lose more than your heart if you play these types of games, Guinvere,” Morgana hisses at her assistant through barred teeth and bright red lips. Today she’s wearing a tight, emerald green dress adorned in various teal and black gems. It is form fitting and flattering in ways that would make anyone weak in the knees. Gwennie picked it. She chose it because Morgana was re-negotiating the royal family contracts with the tabloids and press all day. It was important that she look as powerful as she was and be as enticing for the drooling male executives that would agree to anything just to get Morgana to bat an eye at them. Gwennie knew how to play against the nasty odds of sexism, and Morgana was a true femme fatale icon when it came to business matters. She was far more valuable to the House of Pendragon than anyone would ever realize.

Her eyebrows furrow, “You must misunderstand, Lady Morgana. It’s not like that at all.”

It’s as plain as day on her face that it’s exactly like that. Gwennie knows she’s caught almost instantly. She apologizes in a low tone. “I don’t know how this happened.”

“Who did you start seeing first?” Morgana asks, her heart aching despite her features softening in defeat. The truth stings more than she can show but at least she doesn’t have to carry on knowing Gwennie tried to lie to her about this.

Gwennie shakes her head, sighs, sits down, gets back up, and covers her face in shame. “I don’t even know. Arthur kissed me in the middle of a shouting match the other day. Merle walked off the job the other day and I was defending Merle to Arthur, because he’s rotten, you know, and he just grabbed my face and pulled me in. But I didn’t pull away. It was fire and passion and energizing. I didn’t think it was going to become a thing. ”

She continues on without hardly taking a full breath, “I had a coffee date with Lance that same afternoon that Arthur kissed me. Lance is everything that Arthur is not, gentle and sweet and understanding. The only thing they have in common is that they both love expressing themselves in the most over-the-top ways. I can’t believe I’m in this situation and I don’t know how to get out of it.”

Morgana keeps her eyes down, letting her bouncing curls mask her scrunched features. Gwennie had only ever dated Lance, though she very nearly dated Merle at one point, and to be in this type of triangle with Arthur and Lance is quite shocking. It also hurts deep in her heart. Almost as if Morgana has somehow lost the only person that has ever fully been on her side to her vicious brother and top neighsayer and to her selfish ex-boyfriend who wants a love story told the way he wants it.

How could she fall for the two worst guys out there for her? She is so much better than that - she deserves better than that.

“I want to help you, Gwennie, but I don’t know how,” Morgana says, tapping her fingers over her stomach. It’s fluttering with butterflies and nausea. The only thing she can think to do is walk over to her assistant and take her cheeks in her hands. Pulling Gwennie’s gaze to meet hers, Morgana can’t decide if she wants to kiss her friend or throw up on her. It’s the most conflicting experience. “Tell me what you need, love. How can I help you?”

Gwennie smiles, cupping her hands over Morgana’s. “Just hold me, for now, before I start crying.”

She’s too late, as tears start pouring before Morgana can even press Gwen’s cheek to her chest. Technically, Gwennie is older than Morgana by a few years, but doesn’t ever stop Morgana from taking care of her assistant. When she needed more time off than she had accumulated, Morgana scheduled her own vacations to give Gwennie the time off she needed. When Gwennie needed money, she secured her a sizable pay raise. And now, while she figured out what cards to play in the game of love, Morgana will have to fold her hand to make sure Gwennie comes out stronger for it all.

“If I were a Boy

I would turn off my phone

Tell everyone it's broken

So they'd think that I was sleeping alone”

It has been weird to watch Gwennie finish the work day and then dress for a date with Arthur. His Majesty has no idea, of course, because he has been speaking with a Lord of Nemeth about making arrangements for his daughter to meet Arthur. Arthur had no idea that his father is in poor health, but Morgana has to be familiar with all of the details. She has to know everyone’s secrets if she is to do her royal duties effectively. The gist of the plans are to ensure that Arthur is married before Uther becomes so unwell he could not reign as King any longer.

It is a shame, of course, because Morgana knows that she could act as Queen instead, and certainly without the same level of controversy that Arthur has stirred up during his time in the spotlight already. Supposedly this Lady Mithian - a strange name for a modern Lady - has a squeaky clean reputation and is “sure to balance his naive mind” as he prepares to take the throne, but Morgana is far too familiar with the tastes Arthur finds most delectable.

It’s not the driven white snow of a picture perfect princess-in-the-making. He wants someone as hot-headed, spontaneous, and innocent as he is when it comes to people. Gwennie, unfortunately, is the perfect match for the prince. He might mature more and more each year, but losing Gwennie to him with each passing day is just a reminder of the hell Arthur gave her growing up. When she got her title and her job, Arthur patronized her for holding herself higher than the people even though she was just as plain as one of them.

He was quite a nasty person growing up.

The only thing that has tempered him is Merle. For as dedicated and supportive of the prince that man is, he doesn’t hesitate to put him in his place either. The only two people who can reason with his royal heinous , as Morgana often called him, were Merle and Gwennie. Morgana always came close, but never close enough.

It was well after Gwennie’s work hours, but there she is - calling Morgana right that instant. She looks down at her phone and considers if she should answer it. She’s never let Gwennie ring through before, but the only thing she could be calling about is Arthur. Hesitantly, she turns it over and turns her phone to silent. At the same time, a young man stands at her door. He’s an intern that has been working alongside Merle. Chances are that Merle set him off on a bunch of often-ignored tasks.

“My Lady,” he says, bowing his head.

“Mordred, isn’t it?” she says, brightening her smile and turning to meet him at the door. “How may I be of service?”

“Actually, that is why I came,” he explains, “Merle told me to check with you before I left for the evening. Your assistant left early, I’m told.”

Morgana’s smile flickers on and off of her face so quickly that she didn’t think this young man, Mordred, would’ve seen. He did, though, because when she looks at him he’s frowning. “Did I say something to upset you, Lady Morgana?”

“No, my boy,” she assures.

“May I ask what is making you so sad, then, my lady? Is there something I can do to help?”

He reminds Morgana of Gwennie in her early days. She was so eager to please and prepared to work until all hours. That’s not to say she isn’t a great assistant now, of course, just that they’ve grown up and their priorities have changed. Gwennie is a lovelorn woman deserving of happiness, and Lady Morgana is just a “fostered” royal bastard child looking to make the most of the success she’s been given in her life.

Mordred is a comforting presence. “Actually, would you fancy a late night cuppa with me, Mordred? I could use the company and I’ve heard Merle say it’s one of your hidden talents.”

“Absolutely, ma’am, I’d be happy to do that,” Mordred squeals in true and genuine delight. His sideways smirk is charming and kind. There’s something homely about him that reminds her of herself. As they walk to the kitchen, her phone buzzing in the room as she leaves it behind, Morgana asks Mordred to tell her more about himself.

“I'd put myself first

And make the rules as I go

Cause I know that she'll be faithful

Waiting for me to come home, to come home”

It wasn’t exactly intention, but Morgana started packing her schedule full of meetings, appearances, and making it a point to be as present in the public eye as much as possible. If a royal needed to attend something, Lady Morgana was the first to volunteer. Before long, Morgana was in the press so much that King Uther brought her in for a private meeting.

“My love,” he says with an icy smile. All of his smiles were icy these days. Morgana defended Arthur’s relationship to Gwennie when it leaked to the public and effectively ended talks with the Lord of Nemeth and put Lady Mithian off to a relationship with Arthur. Morgana was the only reason that Arthur and Gwennie were considered Europe’s darlings.

The Lady Morgana curtsied and kept her professional expression and tabloid smirk at the ready. She joins him at the table but remains as cordial as possible. “What an honor to share a private moment with you, your majesty.”

“While it is no surprise to me that we’ve come to this point, I’ve called you here to discuss your popularity with the people,” Uther hums in the best fatherly tone he can conjure for the daughter he had in a moment of desperation. Morgana is three years older than Arthur, which is why Uther had an affair hoping to father a child and stage a plan for adoption without compromising the blood rights to the throne. Igraine, named for her great-grandmother, a strong and unique family name, was very forgiving when she heard the news. It was also she who sought Morgana out as a child, having suffered another miscarriage. She, too, was desperate for a family. It was her duty to provide an heir and she could not.

However, she was pregnant when she found Morgana as a toddler, wandering a neighborhood that was burned down in a fire. Her parents had died in the fires. Nobody knew that Morgana was outside when the fires started. She had been playing in the backyard in the dirt. As a toddler she was obsessed with pirates, so she was digging for buried treasure. When the fire exploded in their building, a set of four attached homes, Morgana came to know, it scared her and she bolted off.

“So popular, in fact, that it’s making you nervous, I suspect.” The Lady Morgana does not dance around conversations with King Uther, not since learning the truth about her parentage. While she did not know Igraine for long, since she died giving birth to Arthur, she is a woman of great strength and courage. She gave up much of herself to please Uther and the people she served. Morgana learned from the mistakes of Igraine, though, and she would only please Uther so far as to gain the means to her end.

Uther laughs. “You’re not wrong, but today is about your safety, my child.”

“Have I managed to upset someone? Is this my first death threat?” Morgana chuckles, thinking Uther’s concerns for her safety out of place and unexpected.

Shaking his head, he skips straight the point. Small talk with his child from an affair isn’t his strong suit. “I would like you to hire a co-head of PR. It is my regret to say that I cannot allow you to recommend Miss Guinevere. Arther’s appetite has caused a blemish on her role in our affairs, I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem, actually. I have someone in mind already,” Morgana notes, feeling quite happy to share her responsibilities with someone that remains invested in a future that she cares about - which is a future that would throw the entire perspective of the royal family out the window and reform it to be far more progressive and adaptive to the present day lives of the people that they serve.

“Oh?” he questions, completely taken aback.

Nodding, she explains herself. “Mordred, the intern that has been working with Arthur and Merle has been meeting with me periodically, and I find him to be quite persuasive and endearing. I know that he’s a bit green, my lord, but I believe that he’s really learned the ins and outs of the job. He could shadow Guinevere for a few weeks before I offer the job to him.”

Out of obligation to the bad blood between them, Uther is forced to consider the proposal. Thankfully, he doesn’t linger on the idea for very long. He agrees that it would make sense to hire Mordred, “While I do not care for Merle, he is seasoned in the work. Perhaps you could consider hiring him and convince Arthur to take him on as his new assistant.”

Morgana considered working as an equal to Merle. They’ve had their moments, such as when Gwennie’s father died, and again when her brother passed, and she took bereavement time off to attend to those affairs. Merle split his time between Morgana and Arthur evenly, and did so quite well. There were times where she preferred Merle’s blunt honesty and comical approach to serious issues. It gave her some insight as to why Arthur kept him around.

Still, a part of her wanted to completely bypass both Gwennie and Merle both and go straight for Mordred. During this time when she’s lost her best friend, it hasn’t been Merle that stepped in to fill the void. Arthur and Gwennie didn’t try to balance their time together in a healthy manner, so it certainly wasn’t either of them helping her keep the pieces together while he heart yearned for those late work nights laughing over champagne and paperwork. No, Mordred is the only person for the job.

Still, she lies to satisfy him. “I’ll consider it.”

Uther seems to pick up on it, but stays polite with her. “Thank you, Morgana.”

There was pang in my side when Gwennie came knocking on the door before I finished my awkward lunch with His Majesty. There was an important phone call, she said, and needed to call her away. Morgana left urgently and raced with Gwennie to the nearest office. Once the door was closed, Gwennie laughed.

“I heard he had called upon you and figured you wouldn’t make it more than thirty minutes before you needed an emergency rescue,” Gwennie laughed airily.

It felt like a knife went through her heart, but things were put into motion when she chose Arthur that Morgana couldn’t undo or control. All she can do is spin things to her benefit, which, if done correctly, should benefit Gwennie and Arthur in the long-term. If Gwennie is happy at the end of it then Morgana would consider her work a success.

Morgana grinned, “My knight in shining armor.”

“If I were a boy

I think I could understand

How it feels to love a girl

I swear I'd be a better man

I'd listen to her

Cause I know how it hurts

When you lose the one you wanted

Cause he's taken you for granted

And everything you had got destroyed”

It is raining. The clouds are low and heavy and so very dark. There are thousands in the streets during the procession, but Morgana isn’t one of them. She is in a locked room with Arthur Pendragon, with a distant uncle from Igraine’s family, Lord Vaine. He is staring down Arthur with disbelief.

“You had no idea she had a claim to the throne?” he squawks for what must be the tenth time in a row.

Arthur repeats his own declaration too. “My father didn’t tell me until I was starting sixth form that Morgana was my half-sister, and even then, he made it sound like she wasn’t even entitled to a royal title.”

“You are truly the most idiotic person I have ever met,” Morgana howls.

Arthur doesn’t appreciate it, but he looks so defeated he doesn’t know what to do. His father has just died, he’s not able to be present for the burial, and now he isn’t even sure if he’s actually going to be given the throne. Morgana can sense the tension. It wasn’t she who sent for Vaine, though she had discussed it with Gwennie briefly in a few moments of frustration after conversations with Uther.

Could she have sent for him?

“We haven’t got the time to squabble like schoolchildren!” Vaine screams, smacking the table as he raises his voice. Morgana doesn’t jump or startle, having expected as much from him. Vaine was always quite disgruntled whenever he came to visit. She never knew why, but she sensed he was not the best of friends with Uther. Was anyone, she wondered. Sure, His Majesty, King Uther, would go down as a respected leader and a strong-willed leader. Unfortunately, he upset a good number of people, and distanced himself from the modernists. 

Morgana agrees. “He’s right. Uther died mysteriously in a hospital room surrounded by trusted staff and guards. Too many people are hypothesizing that he was murdered. We need to quell the panic as soon as possible. Not being present at his burial is only going to raise more brows.”

Vaine is nodding along, agreeing at every point that she makes. He looks to Arthur. “Do you feel confident that you can keep the people quieted and calm through this time of transition?”

He shrugs. “I have no idea. I’m going to be one of the youngest kings to ever take the throne. How can I even begin to be sure that I can do anything?”

“With confidence!” Morgana and Vaine spit at him.

Arthur panics, “I can’t do this right now. I can’t!”

He gets up to leave the room, but Morgana shouts at him. “Sit your arse back down right this instant Arthur Pendragon! Nobody leaves this room until this is settled.”

“There’s nothing to settle! As far as anyone is concerned, it is my responsibility to take the throne. Your claim to the throne will only cause more upset,” Arthur exclaims, frustrated and hateful as he always is towards Morgana. While unsurprised by his tactless spite, she is offended and angry by it. She approaches him with clicking heels, red cheeks, and burning eyes.

“You are a fool to think that the people would not be pleased to see me as Queen,” she spits at him. “Have you not seen the popularity I have amassed while putting myself out there with the people? Have you not seen the power of influence I have over their opinions? I have saved you from your own shit more times than you can count on all of the fingers in this room! If you think for one second that the people wouldn’t accept me with open arms, then you’re dumber than I thought.”

Arthur refuses to take this without a fight, of course. He doesn’t ever take Morgana’s criticisms and critiques for what they are, so he immediately challenges her. “Did you call for Vaine, then? Is that why he’s here?”

“I’ve been called to host the ceremony, but it was brought to my attention that Morgana could contest your place as king,” Vaine clarified. There was no reason for him to lie, and Morgana would’ve been honest about it if she really wanted the throne. All she wanted was validation and respect. She’d never gotten it from anyone by Gwennie and the people who watched her every move.

Until Mordred came along…

Which made her nearly gasp as Arthur demanded to know who called for him.

Vaine refused, insisting it was an anonymous letter in his private quarters when he arrived. Arthur accused Morgana of trying to ruin his family name and destroy his reputation. It was a tirade filled with grief and insults. Vaine rubbed his forehead and whimpered at the sound of Arthur’s annoying voice. Morgana listlessly endured, wishing to be literally anywhere else. As soon as he ran out of breath, Morgana smiled at him. It was unnerving to him and she could tell. So she approached him and leaned as far in as possible.

“Have your throne. I hope you die in it,” she growls at him. Eyeballing him from head to toe and back up again, she merely shakes her head as she leaves. “What kind of king feigns strength that he doesn’t have and mocks the competence of others? Maybe you really are your father’s son.”

Morgana pulls the door open with such a ferocity that it could have easily been mocked up in a video to look as though she ripped it from the wall. Storming through the halls without a care in the world, she’s on the verge of tears, but tries to remain composed until she reaches her room. Once she’s sure she’s locked in her room and as far away from prying eyes as she could be, she lets out the most guttural sound she’s ever made.

“That’s the most human thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Gwennie announces as she sits at the table on the left side of the room. She’s pouring warm tea and has fresh biscuits waiting at the table. It is precisely the thing that she needs after an exchange as intense as Arthur dismissing her importance and value just as Uther had always done. It’s not like the expectation that he would be different, because she didn’t really trust he would be after all the years he was a nightmare to be around, but she had proven to him that she was dedicated and loyal to the family. How could he question her ability to have taken the throne instead? She’d never wanted it until she could see it would never be hers.

“What are you doing here?” the lady questions.

“Arthur asked me not to go because you were both being sequestered for a secret meeting,” she replies easily. “Not so secret when he’s told me, eh, but I figured you might need support afterwards.”

If ever there was a time for Morgana to pour her truth out and tell Gwennie the truth of her feelings, how she needed her more than she needed to breathe most days, and how she felt empty knowing she was with Arthur instead, this would be the most opportune. Yet, there was a hesitation. She couldn’t put a name or reason to it, but Morgana asked the question she needed to ask.

“Did you know?” she asks.

“Know what? You given me context, Morgana.”

Morgana closes her eyes to ask the question clearly. “Did you know that Uther was my father?”

Gwennie laughs. She keeps laughing. And she keeps laughing until she sees Morgana isn’t. “Wait. Are you serious?”

“He had an affair with my mother in an attempt to father a child. Lady Igraine adopted me when my parents died and made sure there was a good cover-up before Arthur was born and she passed away. Nobody was ever supposed to know except Uther, Arthur, and I,” Morgana explains as briefly as possible. Gwennie is sipping the tea now, slowly processing the new information that she’s receiving. It is all the proof that Morgana needs that Gwennie didn’t know anything of the matter.

She asks the most obvious question, as The Lady Morgana would expect.

“Are you challenging Arthur for the throne?” her voice comes out mousy and small. There’s almost a hint of joy or concern, but she’s not totally sure which - though she almost hopes it’s both. Gwennie certainly is entitled to experience both emotions simultaneously in this specific situation.

“No,” Morgana says, and it’s true, she’s not. She would take it, and she wants it now that she’s been told that she didn’t have the right to do it at all. However, that doesn’t mean she’s going to destroy Gwennie’s world to do it. She reiterates to make it perfectly clear. “No, I didn’t want the throne. Someone wants me to have it, though. Someone that did know.”

Gwennie then lifts her hand, trembling. “Arthur proposed.”

She’s sure that the world stops. Morgana gawks at the ring, a massive diamond from ten feet away, and surely more impressive if she gets to it closer. Could anything else about this day get worse for her? Becoming faint, the only proper response is to comfort Gwennie. She didn’t do anything wrong.

“You’ll make a fine Queen. I’m sure of it,” Morgana says, and it’s the most sincere compliment she’s ever shared with someone else. Gwennie will be the most wonderful Queen, she has no doubt about it. It’s just a role that Morgana never imagined she’d play without herself in the picture. “Go to him. He’ll need you now. Don’t tell him you were already here, though.”

“Why not?” Gwennie asks.

“It was not a kind meeting. Arthur thinks of me as his enemy now,” Morgana explains. “If you don’t lie to him then he will cast you away as a traitor. You mustn’t let him know you came here first. Promise me!”

The intensity of her voice increases with each word. Truly scared, Gwennie agreed to the terms. She snuck out of the room and, presumably, made her way to Arthur’s quarters. No sooner had Gwennie closed the door did Morgana begin crying. She’s never felt so defeated.

“It's a little too late for you to come back

Say it's just a mistake

Think I'd forgive you like that

If you thought I would wait for you

You thought wrong”

Five years ago? Already? Morgana looks at the trending tags and headliners detailing the timeline of her life since leaving the palace. Uncle Vaine had betrayed Arthur and framed Morgana as the traitor, not that Morgana minded the media attention at the time. After abandoning her post and leaving Mordred to do her job as the lead Public Relations Representative of the House of Pendragon, Morgana had started some radical philanthropic work in third-world countries. It got her labeled as a radicalist, socialist, communist, feminist, and a whole slew of other “ist” titles that were sometimes completely accurate - and other times horrifyingly demeaning. In any case, Morgana has made a solid name for herself outside of the royal family.

It is, after all, the life she would have lived if her parents hadn’t died in a fire.

Sometimes the interviews ask if it is weird, hard, or uncomfortable having to negotiate pay for work, but that’s never been an area of difficulty for Morgana. She always negotiated pay for tabloids, media contracts, and various other services dealt with in the public eye. If anything, Morgana has felt more empowered to determine when and where compromise needs to happen. Things can be done on her terms.

On the right terms.

There’s a knock on her door, and it startles Morgana. She puts her hand on her chest and sneaks a peak of herself in the glass of her balcony window. Not many people know where her private quarters actually are since all of her windows are tinted, and her balcony is enclosed with a privacy fence. Once inside the building, Morgana takes a private route to a private elevator to a private floor, to ensure her safety. All of her surrounding neighbors are security staff that she’s hired or that have worked for her before - meaning that everyone around her are people that she trusts. The safety paired with the privacy are what makes her “normal” life so satisfying.

So, it is quite odd to have someone knocking on her door without first letting her know that they would be coming. Morgana walks to the door with haste but with a cautious mind. Whomever is coming without warning must have an urgent reason for doing so.

When she checks her security camera showing the outside of her door, Morgana can’t help but suck in a sharp breath. One of the very last people she would’ve wanted to ask is standing there, hands in his pockets and a sideways smirk making his lips thin and pale. Morgana sighs before opening the door.

“Merle,” she says curtly.

Gently, he says her name in a way that makes it seem almost like he thought it rather than said it. “Morgana.”

“How did you get in here?” she asks while simultaneously inviting him inside. Her problems were never really with Merle, being that he was staff just like Gwennie. How could he be held accountable for the person that Arthur had become? The only man to blame for that was Uther, and he’s long passed at the cost of his own wrongdoing. It won’t be a surprise to Morgana if Arthur meets the same fate as his father. He hasn’t exactly made a lot of allies in his reign as King.

Merle chuckles. “Have you been gone so long that you forgot how easy it is for royals and their staff to get information on a whim?”

Morgana shrugs. “Not long enough if I can still recognize your face.”

“You’d be hard pressed to forget it. Arthur makes me work with Mordred  constantly. He doesn’t trust him since he worked so closely with you, you know. He suspects you remain close, too,” the slender man shares as he walks a few small circles. As his expression shifts from shocked, impressed, to bored, it appears that he’s assessing the lifestyle that Morgana has adopted in her time away from the palace. Despite the appearances she kept, the Lady of days past is hardly one for high maintenance and lavish living.

On the matter of Mordred, it’s hard to say anything to the suspicions. It is true that Mordred and Morgana still have coffee a few times a month, remaining cordial when prying eyes and ears are present. They speak privately, but never in her home or his. Rather, they stay in contact like long-distance siblings. Occasionally he will ask for some advice on how to handle specific matters of disagreement between Gwennie and Arthur, but Morgana struggles to remain impartial. Mordred knows this, she suspects, and merely wants a reason to stand against Arthur. He doesn’t want to lose his job, but he does not care for the decisions King Arthur often makes.

Morgana finally addresses it with a half-truth. “He can suspect anything he pleases, but reality does not often lie.”

Nodding, he calls her out on her nonsense passively. “Mordred and Gwennie meet often about your initiatives. They’ve been pushing Arthur to reconnect with you.”

Laughter parts her lips before she can stop herself.

“Surely His Majesty is not so daft to agree to try!”

Merle stares at her very seriously. It dawns on her. This was no social call. This wasn’t an attempt by Gwennie to draw her back to the palace for personal purposes, not that she dares to hope for as much. Those days spent at her side are too far lost to want for again. No.

This is Arthur’s attempt to get Morgana to meet him in the middle.

“Why else would I be here?” he asks softly. “He couldn’t send anyone else, could he?”

He’s right. If Gwennie had come, it wouldn’t have been private at all. If Mordred had come, it would be suspicious. Any other staff would’ve been too impersonal. The only option was to send Merle. He’s known Morgana for years and they have never had bad blood between them. 

But Arthur and Morgana had ended their familial relationship on very bad terms. She left without warning, without permission, and without a kind word to say. She cut the cord and never looked back. It was never in her plans to look back. As far as she’s always guessed, too, it wasn’t in his plans either. “He sent you because everyone is talking about me this week and a reunion would look good in print.”

“He’s asking for you to come because Gwennie needs someone to help her through a very difficult time,” Merle starts explaining but stops short with only one sentence. Hands cover his face and it’s the most emotion she’s seen from him so far. Whatever reason the times are difficult for Gwennie, it must be something very serious for the King to send for his absent and disowned sister.

Morgana refuses to ask for the details. She refuses to go. There was a time years ago when she would’ve done anything for Gwennie. Now, later in her life, she’s come to realize she was in love with her assistant. It took a few short term relationships that never went anywhere serious for her to understand what romantic love really looked like and felt like in her mind and heart. Morgana always suspected it might’ve been as much but never acknowledged it. It was always friendship motivating her in the moment. Gwennie was once her everything.

But she is nothing to Morgana now.

“Perhaps a qualified professional is a better fit for her needs,” Morgana suggests coldly. It makes her heart ache and her bones crunch between the pressure of her skin. Those days are in the past for a reason. She will not give in to the memory of what love used to feel like when it was just outside of her grasp.

Merle shakes his head. “She lays in bed asking for you day after day. She cries when she thinks nobody is looking. She changed the locks to your room. Nobody is allowed inside but her. Sometimes she goes in there to cry. Guiniviere needs you , Morgana, and Arthur understands that it is a hole in her heart that he cannot fill.”

HA, she thinks to herself, he will never be enough for her!

It is a selfish thought, and she immediately regrets it. “What’s done is done, Merle. Arthur made my place very clear when he named a traitor. I never wanted his throne and I was never a threat. He feared me because I represented what the people wanted. It drove me away.”

“But love can pull you back.”

Morgana shakes her head. “No, it won’t.”

Merle questions it immediately, impatient and upset by the resistance. “Why not?”

Morgana goes back to the door and takes hold of the knob. Merle is no longer welcome in her home. If she must, she’ll hit a security button and one of her security guards will show up in less than a minute to remove him from her flat. He gets the picture and makes his way out without prompting, but he does ask her once more. “Why won’t you come back for her?”

“I’m not the same woman I was when she fell for my brother, and I’ll never be that woman again,” she declares quietly. It’s true, of course, since she suffered more and more as they grew closer. The impact it had on Morgana’s heart is never-ending. She’ll never be able to love anyone as much as she loved Gwennie, and it took a very long time to make peace with that truth. Morgana knows going back will only damn her to a life spent alone for the rest of her days. That is not the life she wants to have for herself.

Merle nods, but tells her just before she closes the door. “Gwennie lost her daughter last month. It was a baby girl that she intended to name Morgana Igraine Pendragon. Even if you don’t come see her, send your regards. Do something. You’re not a monster, even if you can play the part.”

The heaviness that falls upon her chest is indescribable. Though, the slamming of her door does a pretty good job conveying the anger and hurt bubbling in the pit of her stomach. How dare he? How dare Arthur? Can she not leave that life behind her without consequences? Did they really expect her to come at their first call for her?

Morgana collapses on the floor, sobbing into her knees.

“But you're just a boy

And you don't understand

How it feels to love a girl, someday

You'll wish you were a better man”

Morgana smiles, waving as she crosses the stage donning a full black suit with a thin emerald green tie. Emerald green has always been a go-to color of hers to make her look and feel more powerful than she actually is, though she has amassed enough pull in the public eye to really make changes happen. When she places herself in front of the podium she gestures gently for the crowd to quiet down. It is an action that comes naturally to her, and something that always works.

As with many other events, she introduces herself. My name is Morgana le Fay, and I’m a social activist and non-profit consulting professional. She describes her current projects and reviews the topic of the debate of the afternoon: same-sex relationships and the rights of those couples. It has long been demonized and needs further challenges even still today. It is one of the many social topics that she’s been speaking on for years and today will be a walk in the park.

There is a second podium, and she already knows who is going to stand beside her. It is the King himself - His Majesty and King, Arthur Pendragon. At his side will be Mordred, and behind him will be Gwennie and her new assistant, with Merline on the other side that is open. Faces that she knows well, despite her efforts to forget them in the intimate detail that she can’t erase from her brain. It doesn’t shake her, though. This is her territory. This is her topic. This is happening on her terms.

When Arthur takes the stage, the applause is not nearly as strong as when Morgana strolled to her position. The cheers are about the same, but mostly only out of honor and respect. That’s the thing about the culture, of course, is that pride for the royal family is mostly constant even if one has grievances with the way things are being handled and discussed. Mostly, though, Arthur has been trying to get the royal family more involved in politics, which not all people appreciate to any great degree. Morgana, actually, is in favor of it. It shows the support the palace has for the needs of the people. It is a miracle that this debate is even happening. Mordred must’ve really worked hard to convince Arthur it needed to happen this way.

Morgana is happy to take him down, too.

Arthur prattles on about some of his achievements as King in that dull, monotonous voice that he has that somehow dazzles the people around him. It makes him seem level-headed, and Morgana used to exploit that very thing about him during press conferences and damage control over his behavior as a young man. It will not behoove him to remain emotionless in front of his people this time. She knows his weaknesses.

A moderator comes in and asks about the timeline of same-sex couples gaining just the right to get married and the recent efforts being made to ensure same-sex couples can utilize the same benefits of marriage as their opposite-sex parallels. Man-and-woman marriages can see the spouses insure one another without issue, while woman-and-woman marriages or man-and-man marriages do not enjoy the same luxury. That possibility is still months away from even being addressed, let alone approved.

Morgana speaks on it first. “To put it bluntly, it is atrocious and embarrassing that a country as progressive as ours has not taken it upon ourselves to set the example for human rights such as this. Love is not a domain that should be defined by one faith and one set of beliefs. The law has no place to determine matters of the heart when those matters do not cause harm to the partners. If a woman marries another woman, the woman of her dreams, should that woman not be allowed to serve her partner to the same level and quality as a man doing the same thing?”

Howls and cheers erupt in the crowd. Rainbow flags, shirts, and faces are blinding in the best way possible. These are the people who Morgana tries to represent when she gets on stage and makes a spectacle of herself. Radical language, radical questions, and radical action is what perpetuates change. If those in power won’t listen to the little voices roaring outside of their stone walls, then Morgana has a duty to pull strings and make them heard. Her people, people just like her, have the right to be happy on their own terms.

Arthur waits for the crowd to calm before putting in a less emotional affirmation. “It is true that our beloved nation has been slow to catch up to the social climate, and we should all show humility in accepting the role many of us have played in that delay. However, the more public support we garner, the sooner we can see that change. I am personally thankful for Miss le Fay for the constant work she has done on this topic to bring about the change we have seen. She has been a pioneer for out LGBTQ population and a powerful ally.”

“I’m not just an ally, your highness,” Morgana replies instantly. While she has never come out publicly or confirmed rumors, she is more than willing to make this her moment. Nobody ever had to know. The only person that needed to be sure about it was her. Still, it drives her point and her passion even further home by using this chance to clarify. “I am just like them. When the day comes that I should walk down the aisle with my wife, should I be so lucky to find her, I want to know that when I die I can leave my belongings to her in my will without legal ramifications to her having what is rightfully hers. When I marry the woman from my dreams, I want to know that my insurance is hers - that my properties are hers - that my life belongs to her the way that your life belongs to the Queen.”

Arthur stands frozen for a second. Gwennie stands up behind him, holding her stomach with tears in her eyes. It brings a hush over the crowd. The silence is deafening and thick, like mist or fog. He can’t stay quiet, though, because it leaves too much to the imagination.

“Your concerns are valid, and I assure you that change is coming for same-sex couples. We can’t just demand these things without going through the proper channels. As with any revolution, there is a certain level of patience that must accompany the persistence of those championing for new laws,” Arthur explains in what he hopes is a comforting tone, she’s sure. It comes off as belittling and unhelpful. Mordred nudges the King, which prompts him to speak even more. He may as well be shooting himself in each foot. “Nothing happens overnight. The unfortunate reality is that this is still a new movement when comparing it to the lifespan of religion and faith-based practices. Competing with something so widespread is going to present challenges. The LGBTQ movement is a necessary one, but not an easy one. We need to keep raising awareness but in a way that is productive to keep political powers working hard at delivering the expected changes.”

“I think you mean deserved changes, Your Majesty,” Morgana corrects swiftly.

Arthur storms away from his podium and meets Morgana at her podium, demanding answers. “What are you playing at?”

Morgana turns toward the crowd, poking a hand out at them. “I’m not playing at anything. The only job I’ve ever done is help people in power clean up their image. Now I do it the way I want to and in a way that actually makes a difference for the people that deserve it. Maybe you should consider doing the same?”

Off stage, Mordred is speaking with some crew in a very animated way, likely demanding the microphones are turned off. There’s some static and audio issues that mask the short conversation that Arthur and Morgana can share in true, proper privacy.

“You’re a disgrace to the Pendragon name,” Arthur growls. “Everything is a performance to make you look like the hero. Real heroes don’t lie about the real world, Morgana!”

With crossed arms and a cocked brow, Morgana calls him out again. “I’m no more a Pendragon than you are a le Fay. Uther might’ve been our father, but I am nothing like him.”

“You are much more like him that you even realize,” Arthur spits through barred teeth. There’s something in his eyes that is full of fire. It’s unfamiliar to Morgana, but not unwanted. He’s right to be angry. Tomorrow will be a mess of retcon and damage control. Mordred will deserve an award if he doesn’t quit at the end of the day. Just as Morgana is preparing to leave the stage, Gwennie strolls up next to Arthur and takes his hand.

She makes eye contact with Morgana and it melts her heart. It causes her to pause.

“Morgana,” her voice is every bit as melodic as she remembered. They exchange sweet smiles before she continues. “We sure do miss your passion in the palace.”

“No, we do not ,” the King’s bite is boyish and throws Morgana back to the days when she would argue at the top of her lungs with Arthur in the gardens. They spent hours upon hours yelling about all the things they disagreed about, a practice that spilled into other rooms. It happened outside of the castle, sometimes, during car rides and travel. Gwennie was so familiar with it that she soon took over the role as his girlfriend and, eventually, as his wife.

Gwennie corrects herself with that honey sweet smile of hers, adhering to her husband’s need for clarification. “The palace isn’t the same without your passion, Morgana, and I miss it dearly.”

“You fill the role splendidly, ma’am,” Morgana says with a curtsy. Before leaving, she offers a hand to Arthur, which he accepts begrudgingly with a well-practiced grin.

Morgana doesn’t spare him the same courtesy. “She’ll fit the throne far better than you ever have someday. And this country will be thankful that she loved you. ”

Without a word more, her black hair whips with her pivot and she joins her own staff backstage. She has a public event after this to do a street interview with LGBTQ individuals and allies alike, adding more fuel to the fire of progressive change that is still desperately needed.

“You don't listen to her

You don't care how it hurts

Until you lose the one you wanted

Cause you've taken her for granted

And everything you had got destroyed”

When news breaks that Gwennie has been staying in a private quarters on a personal leave from the palace, it is jarring. Rumors had been flying for weeks that the King and Queen Pendragon were not being seen together under almost any circumstance. People were still reeling from the event earlier in the year when Morgana and Arthur attempted a debate that went south very quickly. Mordred didn’t quit the day afterwards, but he eventually started making mistakes and losing the dedication he used to have for the job. Eventually, he did step down, which resulted in Merle taking over the position in addition to his responsibilities to Arthur. He was growing visibly tired and weak.

The life of luxury and fairytale joy was now little more than a lie.

Mordred is sitting on Morgana’s couch with a black coffee and his face buried in his phone. “It is funny that everyone thinks that Guinevere and Arthur will divorce. They have no heir to the throne!”

“Besides that, Arthur would never let me have the throne if he could help it. If they divorce, it’ll have to be Guinevere asking for it,” Morgana confirms passively, staring out the window longingly. She pulls her black cardigan closer to her body before joining Mordred on the couch. She sips from his coffee glass. He is much more like her brother than Arthur ever was, and it’s comfortable in a way that she can’t describe. It makes losing Gwennie feel less terrible to at least  have someone else that she considers family.

After all, Mordred is the closest and only thing she could even consider as much.

Mordred fills her in on all the happenings of the palace regarding Arthur and Gwennie’s relationship. Gwennie had reconnected with Lance, and it had become quite steamy. There was nothing of note that Mordred had to deal with in the media, but there was enough for Arthur to ask Gwennie to leave town for a period of time so that they could process separately. Having space has not done any favors for Arthur, of course, because he’s overworking Merle to deal with literally everything.

Morgana almost feels bad for them.

“Lance was always a weakness to her,” she hums, thinking back to when she nursed Gwennie back to emotional wellness after he proposed to her in public. If he hadn’t done that, she might’ve married him instead of Arthur. Or, who knows, maybe Morgana would’ve been able to explore a relationship with her instead. So many futures were possible then. Her hum turns to a sigh, and her eyes sink her vision into the soft, gray carpet.

They each have to go to work, usually, but Morgana has been taking a vacation of sorts herself. She’s been exhausted. When Mordred leaves, he offers to grab groceries, which she lets him do, and she slinks back into her bedroom to do some yoga.

As she finishes laying out her mat and turning on her waterfall sound effects, her phone dings. All of her work accounts are silenced with no notifications. She has a contracted assistant answering non-urgent and non-specific questions while she takes a month away from her work obligations, and does a once weekly phone conference to address time sensitive and pressing matters as efficiently as possible. However, she doesn’t open her work accounts for those days, so this notification is a personal email.

The sender is her assistant, but the email itself is actually being forwarded. Her assistant wrote a brief message reading: This was a personal email that came through to your work address. I forwarded it as soon as I realized. My apologies.

Morgana keeps reading. When she’s done she tosses her phone into her bed.

“Bloody hell, can’t he just let me live my life in peace?” she grumbles.

The message, of course, is from Arthur. It’s a message saying that he is very sorry for the events that have transpired throughout their life together. He shared some happy memories, sad memories, and lessons he’s learned because of her. Morgana didn’t feel sentimental about it the way Arthur did, obviously. If anything, she felt annoyed. He keeps trying to make things “right” and make “amends” like he can undo all of the pain he caused her growing up. She was older, but he was always meaner. He got the life that she should’ve enjoyed, even if she is happy with the life she has come to life anyway.

Uther Pendragon conceived her outside of his marriage and punished her for his bad choices, which Arthur continued in his reign by making her feel like she besmirched a legacy that she was never publicly allowed to call her own. Even if rumors would swirl around about the truth, Arthur and Morgana had an unspoken agreement between them never to address them. It was nobody else’s right to know the truth. Besides, Morgana is embarrassed to know that Uther was her blood. She is ashamed to call Arthur her brother.

They are so different from the person that she’s become that it’s shocking to think they all lived together.

Arthur didn’t ask for a response from her in the email, and she certainly didn’t want to reply either. Instead, she lets her assistant know that any further messages can be reviewed by her before being forwarded. If there is no urgent matter that needs Morgana’s feedback or attention, then it can be saved to a folder and she will review it sometime in the future. Her assistant agrees and Morgana offers her a bonus for ensuring that the process is followed very strictly.

It is unfortunate that things are falling apart for Arthur and Gwennie, but it is not a problem that Morgana needs to be solving. They’re adults. They chose that life. Regretting their choices is natural, but they do not enjoy the luxury of privacy being royals. The shame in the situation is truly endless.

As Morgana sets herself in a pose, she can’t resist smirking just a little bit at the karma of it all.

“But you're just a boy”

Guinevere pulls a black veil over her face, hiding her swollen red eyes. She does not wear make-up. She does not plan to put on a brave face. She does not intend to pretend to be anything but broken. The last three days have not only been the worst days of her life, but have changed her life so greatly that she’s not even sure she’ll ever recover.

Three days ago, Merle and Arthur left to attend a conference consisting of world leaders to address the potential threat of war. Several bombings occurred that left Arthur and Merle unreachable. Two days ago, Morgana’s body was found in the rubble with many others who lost their lives traveling to the event. She died in her private transportation with Mordred at her side. He was found alive, but died soon after being hospitalized due to the infection being unmanageable. Yesterday, Merle and Arthur were found in a broken down vehicle. Merle was in terrible shape and airlifted to London for further treatment. However, Arthur was dead. He’d been dead for at least half a day.

That leaves today. Guinevere is attending a public funeral service for the lost lives of so many important people and staff in the royal family. A private service to bury Arthur and Morgana as royals  will be held separately, though the Queen is the only remaining family member to survive. She is the last of the Pendragon lineage.

A week ago, she was happily discussing what her future with Arthur would look like. Merle was discussing what retirement might be when the time came for him. Mordred and Morgana had announced a new non-profit organization they were to head up together. Other staff attending, security members, many of whom were negotiating pay increases, many of whom were planning to marry or were expecting children. It wasn’t just Guinevere suffering, and it was this fact that got her through one of the longest walks she’ll ever make in her life.

When she is on the balcony, standing above thousands of people mourning such a tragic loss amidst an impending war and true uncertainty. Governments all over the world are scrambling to make plans. The Queen is only scrambling to remain visibly strong for the people who will look to her for some semblance of normality. As the last remaining member of the royal family, she has to embody everything that the palace has lost in the last few days.

Guinevere must represent the strength and endurance that Arthur always showed when becoming the wonderful King he worked so hard to become as a man.

Guinevere must breathe the same amount of dedication into her daily responsibilities as Merle did for seemingly endless years that he served in the palace under Arthur and by her side.

But most importantly, she had a duty to be the face of the country just like Morgana always was, even after she left the royal family. She never once stopped being the courageous and passionate woman she was under Arthur’s father, and Guinevere would be honored to be half the woman she was every single day.

Losing Morgana hurt worse, somehow, and she’s not sure she wants to understand why. Guinevere loved the whole royal family for different reasons. The palace had been her home for as long as she could remember. More of her life was spent here than not. Yet, if she was fair and honest, Morgana was the driving force behind everything that Guinevere had become as a woman. Morgana shaped her into this person that people respected, and she did it with the love and kindness that only another woman could give her.

When everyone falls silent, looking up to her on the balcony, she knows she must speak. It took her all night to think of the words she would say, since it would have to be absolutely perfect. Everyone wants to say good-bye, but none of them has the voice to say it.

And so, Her Majesty, Queen Guinevere Pendragon, must say it for everyone:

“It is not your loss that gives me strength on this day, but the memory of you and all that you gave to me when our time overlapped.”