On and On, We Keep Going
Author: nativestar
Title: On and On, We Keep Going
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Merlin & Arthur
Summary: A universe is trapped between one heartbeat and the next.
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 163
Prompt: Heartbeats
Author's Notes: Not my usual style, but I'm doing mini nanowrimo and I'm trying to work outside my comfort zone. I hope it works. (Bonus marks if you know where the title comes from without googling!)
The forest is still and quiet.
Arthur sits with Merlin, hand on heart.
A universe is trapped between one heartbeat and the next.
One where Arthur holds his wife as his shoulder grows wet with her tears. He holds her, because he’d fall to his knees without her.
His imagination runs riot in the fraction of a second before the next slow, sluggish beat.
He wonders what Gaius would do. If he would even stay in Camelot or if Arthur would lose him to his grief.
The rhythm falters, skips and settles.
He’d get a competent servant who wasn’t insolent and didn’t chatter incessantly. But he’d only have a servant.
Arthur’s hand curls into a fist around Merlin’s shirt; he can’t tell if it’s getting stronger or weaker.
They’re probably closer to Ealdor than Camelot, but Arthur knows he could not go there alone. Even Kings can be cowards.
Morning breaks, and the sun rises with Arthur’s hope.
Merlin is still and quiet.
Title: On and On, We Keep Going
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Merlin & Arthur
Summary: A universe is trapped between one heartbeat and the next.
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 163
Prompt: Heartbeats
Author's Notes: Not my usual style, but I'm doing mini nanowrimo and I'm trying to work outside my comfort zone. I hope it works. (Bonus marks if you know where the title comes from without googling!)
The forest is still and quiet.
Arthur sits with Merlin, hand on heart.
A universe is trapped between one heartbeat and the next.
One where Arthur holds his wife as his shoulder grows wet with her tears. He holds her, because he’d fall to his knees without her.
His imagination runs riot in the fraction of a second before the next slow, sluggish beat.
He wonders what Gaius would do. If he would even stay in Camelot or if Arthur would lose him to his grief.
The rhythm falters, skips and settles.
He’d get a competent servant who wasn’t insolent and didn’t chatter incessantly. But he’d only have a servant.
Arthur’s hand curls into a fist around Merlin’s shirt; he can’t tell if it’s getting stronger or weaker.
They’re probably closer to Ealdor than Camelot, but Arthur knows he could not go there alone. Even Kings can be cowards.
Morning breaks, and the sun rises with Arthur’s hope.
Merlin is still and quiet.