FIC: Eyes on the Ocean (Gwaine/Merlin)
Title: Eyes on the Ocean
Pairing: Gwaine/Merlin
Rating: PG for blood
Word Count: 1490
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for all of season 3. Also, not a happy story.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: "They were not young when Arthur passed, but they were not old either. They had years to live out, yet. And so they would."
Notes: This is a companion piece to my drabble Time Enough. I'm probably going to write more along this vein, so I'm titling it the Hourglass 'verse. Enjoy!
Eyes on the Ocean
by canarypaper
When their destiny was achieved, only a few of Arthur's knights survived the battle of Camlann. The field was strewn with the dead and dying, foes and friends alike. A mist rolled across the land, heavy and wet. The sun grey and dull.
Merlin watched as Bedivere cast Excalibur into the waters, saw the mud along the lake suck at the knight's gore covered boots. He watched as Mordred drew his last, shuddering, bloody breaths, his teeth clenched and crimson. Watched as Arthur exhaled his own and placed a firm and grounding hand on his shoulder. Together, they waited for Avalon to retrieve him, welcome him with open arms.
He watched, for what seemed like an eternity, what was to be an eternity, as Arthur was swallowed by the ethereal veil of fog and time that was Avalon. Merlin knew his king would be there when the time was right.
For the first time in a long time, Merlin's shoulders loosened without the pressing weight of imminent destiny. The metal rod of tension that had hidden beneath his skin for so long disappeared, without a trace.
He took a deep, freeing breath. He felt the heavy air of death and war fill his lungs, but the underlying glory of spring brought forth a sensation of hope. He wanted to breathe until his chest burst. Until he became the wind and the earth.
From behind him, he could hear the heavy footsteps of a knight. He was stepping over bodies and limping badly. Every step drew a pained hiss. His chain mail, ripped and broken, clinked softly.
Merlin turned to see Gwaine, covered in dark blood that soaked through his tunic and spattered his armour. His brown and silver hair was matted with dirt and grime. Beneath his eyes were dark, bruise colored circles.
Despite all of this, Merlin could not help but smile at him. The first, genuine smile that he had given in years.
Gwaine stopped walking and placed a hand over his abdomen, wincing and catching his breath. Panting slightly, he met Merlin's eyes. Judged his expression.
"It's over," Merlin whispered, tears falling down his face, uninhibited. There was nothing to restrain now.
And Gwaine understood. "Yes," he said, limping over and dragging Merlin into a fierce hug. "Yes, it's over."
****
They were not young when Arthur passed, but they were not old either. They had years to live out, yet. And so they would.
Camelot dissolved into something new, something that Merlin had no place in, so he left. Gwaine followed, having made his place at Merlin's side for some thirty years. A lifetime, in some measures.
Merlin ached to feel freshly tilled earth beneath his hands, to cut fire wood with his own, physical strength, to live by the most basic, human means. He returned to the country. He would have gone home, to Ealdor, except it did not exist anymore. It had been swallowed into the greater land of Albion and had blossomed into something bigger. Something like a city.
So he and Gwaine made their home in a small, secluded piece of land near the ocean.
It was glorious to feel the sea salt against his face, to feel the water around his body. Gwaine enjoyed it too, and frequently went for long swims.
"It just makes sense now," Gwaine told him one day, as they floated on the calm sea next to eachother. "To be here, in the water, after having been landlocked for so long."
Merlin could not help but agree, feeling the freedom of the water wash over his body.
They made a home for themselves. Just a little stone shanty with a bed, a fireplace, and some cabinets. Merlin, returning to his farmer's roots, planted a garden and enough to feed them through the winters. Gwaine hunted and built, liked to do things with his hands.
Sometimes, when their mischief got the better of them, they would have adventures. The sirens along the seashore were particularly exciting. Gwaine and Merlin would laugh like the young men they had once been. Gwaine would swagger, cocksure and proud, pretending his leg did not have a crippling limp. Merlin would chide him and grin from ear to ear, pretending he did not notice Gwaine's war ravaged body.
At night, they would love each other, like they had for years. Soft, slow, and passionate. They would each watch the other, stare at their aging eyes, run slow fingers over their aging bodies.
Some nights, Gwaine's body felt like sand sifting through an hourglass. It made Merlin's stomach plummet and his throat clench.
They had so little time.
*****
It happened gradually. Time would not wait for Merlin, and Merlin would not wait for Time.
So, Merlin and Time became one in the same.
*****
"You're not with me today," Gwaine said, brushing some dirt off of Merlin's face as they knelt in the garden.
Merlin blinked and shook his head. "What?" He struggled to remember where he was and why he was covered in dirt. He scratched his greying beard and looked to the ground.
"Where were you this time?" Gwaine asked, rising from the ground. He brushed off his pants and limped his way toward the cottage. "Ealdor with your mother? Arthur in, what did you call it, a worldwide war? In some boat in the heavens above?"
Carrots. He had been digging up carrots.
No, he had been helping Arthur. Arthur, who was king again, a king who was negotiating with the U.N. and needed a peace treaty with-
"Where are you, Merlin?" Gwaine asked, distantly. His brow wrinkled and his eyes were sad.
"I'm-" Merlin began.
But Gwaine had left him for the wind to listen to.
*****
Merlin felt like a leaf in the winter. Brittle, clinging weakly to the strong, sturdy tree that would survive the blizzards and the freezes.
Soon, he would break off and be caught up in a gale of wind.
He was in bed, and Gwaine was curled around him, staring, when he came back to himself this time.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, threading his and Gwaine's fingers together. Their skin was thin like well worn paper. It reminded Merlin of the books in old Geoffrey's library.
"There's nothing to apologize for," Gwaine said, kissing Merlin on the temple. "You're here now."
They held each other and drifted to sleep, their wrinkled faces relaxing into something reminiscent of youth.
*****
Merlin dreamt of an adventure they had had, once, in a faraway forest. They had been chased by a beast. Something with tusks and a horrifying stench.
"My god," Gwaine huffed, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. "I may never eat again. That smell's put me off food for a lifetime!" He tilted his head back and let out a loud laugh, white teeth flashing.
Merlin stumbled to the ground next to him, clutching his middle, laughing heartily. "I thought you were going to slay it, not get eaten by it!"
"Plans change!"
They laughed and laughed. Eventually, Gwaine slid down to the ground, throwing a companionable arm over Merlin's shoulder. They sat there, contentedly, for a long time. The hours changed, the sun began to set. The world moved on from them, a steady march of days, seasons, and lifetimes.
"I'm glad you're with me," Gwaine said, pressing his lips to Merlin's neck.
And when their eyes met, he knew that they were dreaming the same dream.
"Me too," Merlin whispered, bringing his lips to Gwaine's. "Me too."
*****
"I'm going out for a swim," Gwaine whispered into Merlin's ear one morning, just as dawn was breaking soft and rosy over the horizon. "I'll be back later."
He listened to the old man shuffle his way out of bed and limp out of the door.
Merlin waited a moment, eyes squeezed shut, hand clenching his pillow.
This was the moment. The point in time he had avoided and run from at every turn. He had closed his eyes and raged against this instant for aeons.
But Time, that heartless, damned harbinger would not leave him alone.
He raced out of bed as fast as he could make his body move and shot out of the cottage.
He staggered toward the apex of the hill, where he could look down to the steady slope that led to the rocky edge of the ocean. He watched, wind whipping around his body, as Gwaine shed his boots, his breeches, and his shirt. Watched as the man slowly waded into the choppy sea.
"I'm glad to have known you," Merlin said to the world around him, sinking to his knees. "I love you. I love you. I'm here now."
Gwaine lay against the water, floating gently on his back.
From his knees on the hill, feeling the earth beneath him and the wind around him, Merlin watched as his knight of Camelot drifted out to sea.
"I'm here now."
Pairing: Gwaine/Merlin
Rating: PG for blood
Word Count: 1490
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for all of season 3. Also, not a happy story.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: "They were not young when Arthur passed, but they were not old either. They had years to live out, yet. And so they would."
Notes: This is a companion piece to my drabble Time Enough. I'm probably going to write more along this vein, so I'm titling it the Hourglass 'verse. Enjoy!
Eyes on the Ocean
by canarypaper
When their destiny was achieved, only a few of Arthur's knights survived the battle of Camlann. The field was strewn with the dead and dying, foes and friends alike. A mist rolled across the land, heavy and wet. The sun grey and dull.
Merlin watched as Bedivere cast Excalibur into the waters, saw the mud along the lake suck at the knight's gore covered boots. He watched as Mordred drew his last, shuddering, bloody breaths, his teeth clenched and crimson. Watched as Arthur exhaled his own and placed a firm and grounding hand on his shoulder. Together, they waited for Avalon to retrieve him, welcome him with open arms.
He watched, for what seemed like an eternity, what was to be an eternity, as Arthur was swallowed by the ethereal veil of fog and time that was Avalon. Merlin knew his king would be there when the time was right.
For the first time in a long time, Merlin's shoulders loosened without the pressing weight of imminent destiny. The metal rod of tension that had hidden beneath his skin for so long disappeared, without a trace.
He took a deep, freeing breath. He felt the heavy air of death and war fill his lungs, but the underlying glory of spring brought forth a sensation of hope. He wanted to breathe until his chest burst. Until he became the wind and the earth.
From behind him, he could hear the heavy footsteps of a knight. He was stepping over bodies and limping badly. Every step drew a pained hiss. His chain mail, ripped and broken, clinked softly.
Merlin turned to see Gwaine, covered in dark blood that soaked through his tunic and spattered his armour. His brown and silver hair was matted with dirt and grime. Beneath his eyes were dark, bruise colored circles.
Despite all of this, Merlin could not help but smile at him. The first, genuine smile that he had given in years.
Gwaine stopped walking and placed a hand over his abdomen, wincing and catching his breath. Panting slightly, he met Merlin's eyes. Judged his expression.
"It's over," Merlin whispered, tears falling down his face, uninhibited. There was nothing to restrain now.
And Gwaine understood. "Yes," he said, limping over and dragging Merlin into a fierce hug. "Yes, it's over."
****
They were not young when Arthur passed, but they were not old either. They had years to live out, yet. And so they would.
Camelot dissolved into something new, something that Merlin had no place in, so he left. Gwaine followed, having made his place at Merlin's side for some thirty years. A lifetime, in some measures.
Merlin ached to feel freshly tilled earth beneath his hands, to cut fire wood with his own, physical strength, to live by the most basic, human means. He returned to the country. He would have gone home, to Ealdor, except it did not exist anymore. It had been swallowed into the greater land of Albion and had blossomed into something bigger. Something like a city.
So he and Gwaine made their home in a small, secluded piece of land near the ocean.
It was glorious to feel the sea salt against his face, to feel the water around his body. Gwaine enjoyed it too, and frequently went for long swims.
"It just makes sense now," Gwaine told him one day, as they floated on the calm sea next to eachother. "To be here, in the water, after having been landlocked for so long."
Merlin could not help but agree, feeling the freedom of the water wash over his body.
They made a home for themselves. Just a little stone shanty with a bed, a fireplace, and some cabinets. Merlin, returning to his farmer's roots, planted a garden and enough to feed them through the winters. Gwaine hunted and built, liked to do things with his hands.
Sometimes, when their mischief got the better of them, they would have adventures. The sirens along the seashore were particularly exciting. Gwaine and Merlin would laugh like the young men they had once been. Gwaine would swagger, cocksure and proud, pretending his leg did not have a crippling limp. Merlin would chide him and grin from ear to ear, pretending he did not notice Gwaine's war ravaged body.
At night, they would love each other, like they had for years. Soft, slow, and passionate. They would each watch the other, stare at their aging eyes, run slow fingers over their aging bodies.
Some nights, Gwaine's body felt like sand sifting through an hourglass. It made Merlin's stomach plummet and his throat clench.
They had so little time.
*****
It happened gradually. Time would not wait for Merlin, and Merlin would not wait for Time.
So, Merlin and Time became one in the same.
*****
"You're not with me today," Gwaine said, brushing some dirt off of Merlin's face as they knelt in the garden.
Merlin blinked and shook his head. "What?" He struggled to remember where he was and why he was covered in dirt. He scratched his greying beard and looked to the ground.
"Where were you this time?" Gwaine asked, rising from the ground. He brushed off his pants and limped his way toward the cottage. "Ealdor with your mother? Arthur in, what did you call it, a worldwide war? In some boat in the heavens above?"
Carrots. He had been digging up carrots.
No, he had been helping Arthur. Arthur, who was king again, a king who was negotiating with the U.N. and needed a peace treaty with-
"Where are you, Merlin?" Gwaine asked, distantly. His brow wrinkled and his eyes were sad.
"I'm-" Merlin began.
But Gwaine had left him for the wind to listen to.
*****
Merlin felt like a leaf in the winter. Brittle, clinging weakly to the strong, sturdy tree that would survive the blizzards and the freezes.
Soon, he would break off and be caught up in a gale of wind.
He was in bed, and Gwaine was curled around him, staring, when he came back to himself this time.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, threading his and Gwaine's fingers together. Their skin was thin like well worn paper. It reminded Merlin of the books in old Geoffrey's library.
"There's nothing to apologize for," Gwaine said, kissing Merlin on the temple. "You're here now."
They held each other and drifted to sleep, their wrinkled faces relaxing into something reminiscent of youth.
*****
Merlin dreamt of an adventure they had had, once, in a faraway forest. They had been chased by a beast. Something with tusks and a horrifying stench.
"My god," Gwaine huffed, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. "I may never eat again. That smell's put me off food for a lifetime!" He tilted his head back and let out a loud laugh, white teeth flashing.
Merlin stumbled to the ground next to him, clutching his middle, laughing heartily. "I thought you were going to slay it, not get eaten by it!"
"Plans change!"
They laughed and laughed. Eventually, Gwaine slid down to the ground, throwing a companionable arm over Merlin's shoulder. They sat there, contentedly, for a long time. The hours changed, the sun began to set. The world moved on from them, a steady march of days, seasons, and lifetimes.
"I'm glad you're with me," Gwaine said, pressing his lips to Merlin's neck.
And when their eyes met, he knew that they were dreaming the same dream.
"Me too," Merlin whispered, bringing his lips to Gwaine's. "Me too."
*****
"I'm going out for a swim," Gwaine whispered into Merlin's ear one morning, just as dawn was breaking soft and rosy over the horizon. "I'll be back later."
He listened to the old man shuffle his way out of bed and limp out of the door.
Merlin waited a moment, eyes squeezed shut, hand clenching his pillow.
This was the moment. The point in time he had avoided and run from at every turn. He had closed his eyes and raged against this instant for aeons.
But Time, that heartless, damned harbinger would not leave him alone.
He raced out of bed as fast as he could make his body move and shot out of the cottage.
He staggered toward the apex of the hill, where he could look down to the steady slope that led to the rocky edge of the ocean. He watched, wind whipping around his body, as Gwaine shed his boots, his breeches, and his shirt. Watched as the man slowly waded into the choppy sea.
"I'm glad to have known you," Merlin said to the world around him, sinking to his knees. "I love you. I love you. I'm here now."
Gwaine lay against the water, floating gently on his back.
From his knees on the hill, feeling the earth beneath him and the wind around him, Merlin watched as his knight of Camelot drifted out to sea.
"I'm here now."