Merlin - Loss
So I actually wrote this back in early December and just recently found it again. I looked through my posts, but it appears it was never posted. It's a little on the emo side given the subject of loss but, then again, reading through my posts from December, that seemed to be the topic of the month, so there you go.
Title: Loss
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Length: 500 words (five drabbles)
Spoilers: Through the beginning of Series 4
Synopsis: Five times Merlin experienced loss.
Author’s Notes: A bit melancholy/angsty.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
1.
“It is time,” his mother said, and Merlin simply nodded.
It was not that the day had been long awaited, any more than it was a surprise when it came. He was different. He did not fit in. He was the square peg in the round hole that was the village of Ealdor and, no matter how hard he tried to chip away at the edges to make room for himself, it simply was never enough.
He gathered his few belongings and left for an unknown world. He just hoped that maybe, somewhere, there would be a place for him.
2.
“At least you know,” Will whispered, his breath harsh and gurgled. There was blood, so much blood, and Merlin could not stop the flow, did not know the words, did not know the incantations, even if daring to say them had not meant his own death.
“You just want the glory,” Merlin sniffed, but his heart was not in the petty bickering.
His friend smiled, pallid and wane. “They will sing my name, but everyone will know it was you.”
“Not everyone,” Merlin corrected, looking to Arthur and Morgana and Gwen. It was yet another secret for him to keep.
3.
He missed her when she was gone. The taunting, teasing tendrils of energy that danced around him like flames about a wick. She knew him, knew what he was and what he could become. She knew of prophecies and legends though even she seemed unsure of her place in them all.
She crossed a line though, hurt Merlin’s own mother in her need for revenge, attacked the child that she herself brought into the world. Balance was needed. She brought the destruction of magic down upon the land by granting Uther’s request, and now her death may herald its return.
4.
“You could stay,” Merlin tried. The tears streamed down his face, but he blinked them away. “I could find a spell, maybe more than one. I could heal you and then we could try to reverse the curse...”
She shook her head as much as she could with her fading strength. “They have seen me, the real me, in both of my forms. I will be hunted. No place will be safe.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Merlin tried, his mind reeling with a thousand possibilities.
She held his hand, brittle and ashen against him. “Yes, it does.”
5.
“Why do you do this?” Merlin asked. He was hurt, he was angry, but, mainly, he was simply tired. He was exhausted from the fight, from the lies, from the betrayal.
“Did you see my mockery of a life?” Morgana seethed. “I was coddled, wrapped in fleece and never allowed to see the light, never allowed to know who I was or what I could truly be.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he tried. “There’s a place for your, for us.”
“You could never understand what I have lost,” she replied, blade in hand.
“Believe me, I do.”
Feedback is always welcomed.
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/383187.html. Current comments
Title: Loss
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Length: 500 words (five drabbles)
Spoilers: Through the beginning of Series 4
Synopsis: Five times Merlin experienced loss.
Author’s Notes: A bit melancholy/angsty.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
1.
“It is time,” his mother said, and Merlin simply nodded.
It was not that the day had been long awaited, any more than it was a surprise when it came. He was different. He did not fit in. He was the square peg in the round hole that was the village of Ealdor and, no matter how hard he tried to chip away at the edges to make room for himself, it simply was never enough.
He gathered his few belongings and left for an unknown world. He just hoped that maybe, somewhere, there would be a place for him.
2.
“At least you know,” Will whispered, his breath harsh and gurgled. There was blood, so much blood, and Merlin could not stop the flow, did not know the words, did not know the incantations, even if daring to say them had not meant his own death.
“You just want the glory,” Merlin sniffed, but his heart was not in the petty bickering.
His friend smiled, pallid and wane. “They will sing my name, but everyone will know it was you.”
“Not everyone,” Merlin corrected, looking to Arthur and Morgana and Gwen. It was yet another secret for him to keep.
3.
He missed her when she was gone. The taunting, teasing tendrils of energy that danced around him like flames about a wick. She knew him, knew what he was and what he could become. She knew of prophecies and legends though even she seemed unsure of her place in them all.
She crossed a line though, hurt Merlin’s own mother in her need for revenge, attacked the child that she herself brought into the world. Balance was needed. She brought the destruction of magic down upon the land by granting Uther’s request, and now her death may herald its return.
4.
“You could stay,” Merlin tried. The tears streamed down his face, but he blinked them away. “I could find a spell, maybe more than one. I could heal you and then we could try to reverse the curse...”
She shook her head as much as she could with her fading strength. “They have seen me, the real me, in both of my forms. I will be hunted. No place will be safe.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Merlin tried, his mind reeling with a thousand possibilities.
She held his hand, brittle and ashen against him. “Yes, it does.”
5.
“Why do you do this?” Merlin asked. He was hurt, he was angry, but, mainly, he was simply tired. He was exhausted from the fight, from the lies, from the betrayal.
“Did you see my mockery of a life?” Morgana seethed. “I was coddled, wrapped in fleece and never allowed to see the light, never allowed to know who I was or what I could truly be.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he tried. “There’s a place for your, for us.”
“You could never understand what I have lost,” she replied, blade in hand.
“Believe me, I do.”
Feedback is always welcomed.
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/383187.html. Current comments