If Wishes were....
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: If Wishes were…
Rating: G
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin
Summary: Merlin makes a wish list, casting a spell on it, hoping against hope that it would bring Arthur back from the dead.
Word Count: 449
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 485, Wishlist
Author's Notes: unbetaed,
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
----------------
It was stupid, that list. For the longest time, Merlin didn’t bother, just kept a list of wishes in his head, kept his heart and mind hidden from that grey world he now occupied, the one he’d lived in for a thousand years. But he’d run across a spell that seemed to enhance whatever was written upon it, turning wishes into reality.
He didn’t believe it, not really, but he was desperate and lonely and the thought of another thousand years or never without Arthur was agony.
With a deep breath, he scrawled ink onto the parchment, a quill pen shaky in his hand. Words spilling out as Merlin chanted and prayed and wished or whatever else he’d need for it to come true.
Three simple wishes.
Let magic be welcomed back into the world.
Let Arthur rise again, alive and well, born to lead and born to bring justice back to Albion.
Let Arthur accept Merlin for who he is.
And a fourth wish, although not likely.
Let Arthur love Merlin as much as Merlin loved Arthur.
When it was done, Merlin leaned back, letting out a final string of incantations, and waited.
Over the centuries, magic had begun a long slow decline, the power seeping back into the depths of the earth as if abandoning those with magic to the hordes. Even Merlin could barely use his gifts now, could barely feel the magic. If this spell were to work at all, Merlin should regain his powers almost immediately.
But as the clock ticked past an hour, then two, there was no brilliance in the air, no feeling of energy as if the world were vibrating with joy. No gladdening of magic or power or anything but the stale air of centuries ground to dust.
It hadn’t worked.
Still Merlin waited. Came up with excuse after excuse. But nothing changed, not power, not magic, not anything but despair tightening its grip on Merlin’s heart with every second that passed.
Finally, leaning over, grief seemed to pour out of him, the words he’d written blurring into splotches of grey, his tears turning ink into fractals of desolation spilling onto the page.
In a rage, he crusted the list, throwing it into the fireplace, watching it burn. Listening to the little pops as the traces of his grief fizzled into mist in the heat.
And only then, could he feel the beginnings of something more. A hint of light, the merest movement of joy echoing amongst the flames.
Perhaps a trick of his longing and loneliness but Merlin would know soon enough.
In the meantime, he had a lake to visit.
Title: If Wishes were…
Rating: G
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin
Summary: Merlin makes a wish list, casting a spell on it, hoping against hope that it would bring Arthur back from the dead.
Word Count: 449
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 485, Wishlist
Author's Notes: unbetaed,
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
-------------------------
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
----------------
It was stupid, that list. For the longest time, Merlin didn’t bother, just kept a list of wishes in his head, kept his heart and mind hidden from that grey world he now occupied, the one he’d lived in for a thousand years. But he’d run across a spell that seemed to enhance whatever was written upon it, turning wishes into reality.
He didn’t believe it, not really, but he was desperate and lonely and the thought of another thousand years or never without Arthur was agony.
With a deep breath, he scrawled ink onto the parchment, a quill pen shaky in his hand. Words spilling out as Merlin chanted and prayed and wished or whatever else he’d need for it to come true.
Three simple wishes.
Let magic be welcomed back into the world.
Let Arthur rise again, alive and well, born to lead and born to bring justice back to Albion.
Let Arthur accept Merlin for who he is.
And a fourth wish, although not likely.
Let Arthur love Merlin as much as Merlin loved Arthur.
When it was done, Merlin leaned back, letting out a final string of incantations, and waited.
Over the centuries, magic had begun a long slow decline, the power seeping back into the depths of the earth as if abandoning those with magic to the hordes. Even Merlin could barely use his gifts now, could barely feel the magic. If this spell were to work at all, Merlin should regain his powers almost immediately.
But as the clock ticked past an hour, then two, there was no brilliance in the air, no feeling of energy as if the world were vibrating with joy. No gladdening of magic or power or anything but the stale air of centuries ground to dust.
It hadn’t worked.
Still Merlin waited. Came up with excuse after excuse. But nothing changed, not power, not magic, not anything but despair tightening its grip on Merlin’s heart with every second that passed.
Finally, leaning over, grief seemed to pour out of him, the words he’d written blurring into splotches of grey, his tears turning ink into fractals of desolation spilling onto the page.
In a rage, he crusted the list, throwing it into the fireplace, watching it burn. Listening to the little pops as the traces of his grief fizzled into mist in the heat.
And only then, could he feel the beginnings of something more. A hint of light, the merest movement of joy echoing amongst the flames.
Perhaps a trick of his longing and loneliness but Merlin would know soon enough.
In the meantime, he had a lake to visit.