Gargoyles fic: Solace
Title: Solace
Fandom: Gargoyles
Summary: Tom's thoughts, as the Magus dies in Katharine's arms.
Pairing: Contains shades of Tom/Katharine and Magus/Katharine
Rating: PG/K+
Warning[s]: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gargoyles, Greg Weisman does.
Notes: I originally intended to write something about the Magus and Princess Katharine (oddly and unexpectedly, my favourite characters in the entire series), but somehow I ended up writing something from Tom's perspective instead. Anyway, this piece is set during Avalon: Part Three, after the death of the Magus. All feedback is greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the story.
- SOLACE -
It tore at Tom's heart to watch his beloved cry. There was no sword or mace yet forged that could pierce or crush him so.
Alongside Arthur Pendragon, he held the Weird Sisters in their enchanted chains with a firm and fierce grip, and watched in despairing silence as everyone - even young Angela and Gabriel, their eyes filled with their first true tears - kept a respectful distance from the altar where Katharine now wept, and quietly shared her grief and devastation without intruding on it.
For as long as he had known her, she had never shed tears in public. She had long ago told him tales of her childhood, so very unlike his own, and of growing up in a great castle and often visiting her uncle's ruthless court, and how she had been taught the need to keep such emotions under rigid control. Even in her hour of greatest desperation, a princess had to be strong, and the depth of her sorrows were to be faced alone. And so she learned to always maintain her composure and dignity, to deny tears, and to never betray hurt or weakness. It had ever been her way. Her temper, now that was much harder to master, but all her pain she choked back, fought off, and soundly sealed away. His first impressions of her had been of grace and strength, for she had never cried or showed anything but courage and defiance, not even when all seemed lost. When the Vikings captured her and destroyed her castle, when her uncle was murdered, even when Constantine was on the verge of forcing her to become his queen, she had shown neither tears or despair, and his boyish heart had swelled with admiration.
But now, her body shook with anguished and heartbroken sobs, and Tom longed to gather her in his arms and whisper words of consolation and peace, and to somehow give solace to her pain.
There had never before been anything private or secret between them, not a single pain in their long years together that one felt that the other did not share and soothe, and his heart ached with the need to go to her, to lift her from the altar and into his embrace, to hold her close and let her pour out all her grief and suffering in the safety of his arms. Most of all, he wished to give her the same comfort and support she had always given him whenever he thought of his mother, ever since he was naught but a lost and lonely boy so many years ago.
Instead, he did nothing, and merely remained in his place, with cold iron in his hands. He would not venture near, or offer a kind and comforting hand to the woman he loved. Such passivity and distance at such a moment was utterly abhorrent to him, but he could not bring himself to move. If it was any other loss or distress, then he would have been at her side in an instant, as he had for all her past pains (admittedly and blessedly few) in their life together, and as he would for any future pain yet to come and dare harm her. But not this pain. He could not.
Because for these few moments, it was the Magus that Katharine held in her arms. He was all she wanted in her arms, her dearest of friends, the kind and guiding constant of her life. He was all she saw. It was his body she clung to with all her strength and desperation, and it was him to whom she gave all her tears, almost as if trying to will him back to life with the force of her agony. Her form heaved and shuddered, and her tears were wrenching. And the only one she wanted in this moment, the only one who could cure such pain and bring back joy and happiness, was one already gone, and Tom would not yet take his place.
More than soon enough, Katharine would turn to him again and need the tender sympathy he longed to give. Tom understood it well. He was her love and she would come to him, and he would be there for her without fail, but until that time came, his place was exactly where he now stood, and it was his duty to remain there. For now, only the Magus existed in her eyes, only her long history with him filled her soul, and the moment belonged to him alone as Katharine wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, her body racked with raw, broken sobs. This once, he was the one she needed.
Gradually, her cries softened and stilled into gentle ritual as she lovingly brushed her hands over his face and through his long white hair. Softly, tears still glistening in her green eyes, she kissed his brow and bestowed so many tender caresses upon him, as if returning in death all the care and devotion he had given her in life. Her entire being was focused solely on her lost friend, and Tom could not bear to part them. He loved them both too much for that, and could not bring himself to intrude on such a sacred moment, or cut a single second from the time in which the Magus was held fast and close in Katharine's arms, as she let her first open tears fall upon his face and speak of how much he had meant to her. Nor would Tom rob his fallen friend and guardian of this final and lasting embrace with his princess. He hadn't the right. Every moment of it, the Magus had earned, and Tom would not dare think of taking Katharine away from him.
Besides, he had many tears of his own to shed.
- FIN -
Fandom: Gargoyles
Summary: Tom's thoughts, as the Magus dies in Katharine's arms.
Pairing: Contains shades of Tom/Katharine and Magus/Katharine
Rating: PG/K+
Warning[s]: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gargoyles, Greg Weisman does.
Notes: I originally intended to write something about the Magus and Princess Katharine (oddly and unexpectedly, my favourite characters in the entire series), but somehow I ended up writing something from Tom's perspective instead. Anyway, this piece is set during Avalon: Part Three, after the death of the Magus. All feedback is greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the story.
- SOLACE -
It tore at Tom's heart to watch his beloved cry. There was no sword or mace yet forged that could pierce or crush him so.
Alongside Arthur Pendragon, he held the Weird Sisters in their enchanted chains with a firm and fierce grip, and watched in despairing silence as everyone - even young Angela and Gabriel, their eyes filled with their first true tears - kept a respectful distance from the altar where Katharine now wept, and quietly shared her grief and devastation without intruding on it.
For as long as he had known her, she had never shed tears in public. She had long ago told him tales of her childhood, so very unlike his own, and of growing up in a great castle and often visiting her uncle's ruthless court, and how she had been taught the need to keep such emotions under rigid control. Even in her hour of greatest desperation, a princess had to be strong, and the depth of her sorrows were to be faced alone. And so she learned to always maintain her composure and dignity, to deny tears, and to never betray hurt or weakness. It had ever been her way. Her temper, now that was much harder to master, but all her pain she choked back, fought off, and soundly sealed away. His first impressions of her had been of grace and strength, for she had never cried or showed anything but courage and defiance, not even when all seemed lost. When the Vikings captured her and destroyed her castle, when her uncle was murdered, even when Constantine was on the verge of forcing her to become his queen, she had shown neither tears or despair, and his boyish heart had swelled with admiration.
But now, her body shook with anguished and heartbroken sobs, and Tom longed to gather her in his arms and whisper words of consolation and peace, and to somehow give solace to her pain.
There had never before been anything private or secret between them, not a single pain in their long years together that one felt that the other did not share and soothe, and his heart ached with the need to go to her, to lift her from the altar and into his embrace, to hold her close and let her pour out all her grief and suffering in the safety of his arms. Most of all, he wished to give her the same comfort and support she had always given him whenever he thought of his mother, ever since he was naught but a lost and lonely boy so many years ago.
Instead, he did nothing, and merely remained in his place, with cold iron in his hands. He would not venture near, or offer a kind and comforting hand to the woman he loved. Such passivity and distance at such a moment was utterly abhorrent to him, but he could not bring himself to move. If it was any other loss or distress, then he would have been at her side in an instant, as he had for all her past pains (admittedly and blessedly few) in their life together, and as he would for any future pain yet to come and dare harm her. But not this pain. He could not.
Because for these few moments, it was the Magus that Katharine held in her arms. He was all she wanted in her arms, her dearest of friends, the kind and guiding constant of her life. He was all she saw. It was his body she clung to with all her strength and desperation, and it was him to whom she gave all her tears, almost as if trying to will him back to life with the force of her agony. Her form heaved and shuddered, and her tears were wrenching. And the only one she wanted in this moment, the only one who could cure such pain and bring back joy and happiness, was one already gone, and Tom would not yet take his place.
More than soon enough, Katharine would turn to him again and need the tender sympathy he longed to give. Tom understood it well. He was her love and she would come to him, and he would be there for her without fail, but until that time came, his place was exactly where he now stood, and it was his duty to remain there. For now, only the Magus existed in her eyes, only her long history with him filled her soul, and the moment belonged to him alone as Katharine wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, her body racked with raw, broken sobs. This once, he was the one she needed.
Gradually, her cries softened and stilled into gentle ritual as she lovingly brushed her hands over his face and through his long white hair. Softly, tears still glistening in her green eyes, she kissed his brow and bestowed so many tender caresses upon him, as if returning in death all the care and devotion he had given her in life. Her entire being was focused solely on her lost friend, and Tom could not bear to part them. He loved them both too much for that, and could not bring himself to intrude on such a sacred moment, or cut a single second from the time in which the Magus was held fast and close in Katharine's arms, as she let her first open tears fall upon his face and speak of how much he had meant to her. Nor would Tom rob his fallen friend and guardian of this final and lasting embrace with his princess. He hadn't the right. Every moment of it, the Magus had earned, and Tom would not dare think of taking Katharine away from him.
Besides, he had many tears of his own to shed.
- FIN -