Fic: Wishes are Meant to be Broken, Fandom: Original, rated: PG/PG-13, Marian, Danielfan
Title: Wishes are Meant to be Broken
Author: in_excelsis_dea
Characters: Marian Rosenfeld, Daniel Yates
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG/PG-13
Disclaimer: Characters are mine. Do not take without my permission.
Prompt: 31_days November 8th A history that threatens to repeat itself
AN: I finally have a plot for my NaNo piece, thanks to this prompt and the fic that resulted out of it. Not exactly sure where this fits into the overall plot, but at least now I have a direction
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” He takes her hands in his, and she takes a moment to revel in the contrast between them- his rough, callused hands completely dwarfing her small, soft, delicate hands. He rubs his thumbs against her palms, and she closes her eyes, drawing upon the sensation.
“No, I’m not pregnant,” she sighs, opening her eyes after a few moments. “It’d be a little hard to get pregnant, seeing as how we haven’t, er, done It yet.” She can make out his shape, they’re standing that closely, but she can’t see his features, or the color of his hair or eyes- eyes that Dinah tells her are gorgeous pools into his soul.
She can hear him laugh inwardly, attempting to break up the tension between them. “Well, you never know-“
“Magic doesn’t allow children to be conceived immaculately. That’s religion,” she cuts in, her tone gaining a certain warning quality. “Stop joking around, Danny. This is important.”
“I know.” He leans forwards, rests his forehead upon hers. Her eyes close instantly and she forces herself to keep her lips slack, refusing to pucker up for a kiss that should not- cannot come. “But I want to spend the time I have with you, together. It’s- we don’t know what the future will bring.”
“No,” she replies in a whisper that is barely more than a passing breath. “No, we don’t. We just- I don’t want to end like my parents,” she mutters, forcing herself to turn away from him, but he won’t let her go completely. His hands are still grasping hers, and he uses them to pull her back against him. “Broken apart, forced to love, neither knowing when it’s all going to end-“
“Are you referring to Mathieu and your mother, or Markus and your mother? Because both are extremely different cases.” He nudges her neck with his nose, beginning to kiss her at the base of her neck, right above the collar of her shirt. “I don’t really see the comparison…”
“My mother falls in love with a man she can’t have, and ends up married to a Watcher who has fallen out of Grace. The Watcher Council interferes and pulls them apart. My mother is trapped somewhere, the man I consider my father is imprisoned for a crime he had to commit, to save everyone, and my actual father is…somewhere unknown. Too busy for his daughter.”
“In Markus’ defense, are you sure he even knows about you?” Daniel lets her go and she steps away, her back still towards him. She likes twilight, because it’s when she sees the same as everyone else in the dusky hue that threatens to smother them all. The grass is cool beneath her feet, and her skirt is just long enough for her to tuck her feet underneath it, if she pulls it down a few inches.
“I don’t know,” she finally replies, unwilling to put much thought into it. It’s something she doesn’t want to think about, doesn’t need to worry about, with everything else on her plate. Her mother says he didn’t know, but then he knows of her existence, and as someone rumored to have such great power and influence, you’d think he’d be smart enough to do the simple math and realize that she can’t be Mathieu’s- the man who raised her, the man she calls “Father”- daughter.
Even if he has always loved her like his own daughter.
“My mother- she said Mathieu pulled her away, out of time, before she could tell him. But I’ve met Markus, and he’s not stupid. It’s right in front of his nose.”
“No, it’s not.” Daniel puts a heavy hand on her shoulder. “He’s not expecting to have a daughter, if your mother told the truth. So he’d logically assume that you are the daughter of your mother and Mathieu. You look like your mother- it’s not far of a stretch to assume that you are Mathieu’s daughter, when you factor in Mathieu’s family being associated with Healers.”
"And what if my mother told him? You know she can’t be trusted, not in matters like this. She’s lied far too many times for me not to take anything she says without a grain of salt. Maybe she’s making excuses for him. I can see her doing that- she took a love potion for over sixteen years, just so I could have a family- or that’s what she said. I mean, how the hell do I even know that she took the potion willingly? Maybe it was some ploy Mathieu set up. Heck, maybe Mathieu is my father and the entire story is a lie and-“
He covers her lips with his own, tracing them with his tongue, pulling her close against him. She reciprocates the kiss, relaxing into his body, his arms keeping her up right as they enjoy the kiss. Finally he breaks it, and she buries her head into his shoulder, a small stream of tears trailing down her cheeks onto his shoulder.
“I’m in love with you,” she whispers, “and I know it’s wrong and we’re pretty much forbidden to be together, and the Council will cast you out if they find out. But I don’t want you to go. It’s not fair, it’s not right, and I want you here with me. At least I can trust you.”
“I know.” He brings up a hand and strokes her hair with long strokes. “I know. It’s- it’s pretty messed up.” He laughs, but it turns into a choke and she realizes that he’s either crying or at the very least, fighting back tears. “This entire mission is pointless. The only way to fix things is to change them, and we all know how well that worked out.”
“I’ll run away with you,” she whispers into his shoulder. “We can just leave, take off. We’ll disappear and no one will be able to find us.”
“You’ll die if we do that,” he hugs her closer to him, nearly crushing her- but she doesn’t complain. It’s as if he’s trying to weld them together with pure strength. “You need to be Healed.”
“A Healer who needs to be Healed.” She sniffs, forcing out a bark of laughter. “The irony…” She pauses for a moment, and then completely changes the direction of the conversation. “I don’t care. I’ve got the Book. You get the Sword. They’ll have to listen to us if we control them both.”
“We’ll need the Key too,” he reminds her, voice hushed. “Whatever, wherever it is. And blood from the line. If we don’t have an Heir, Camelot will be completely useless to us.”
“I feel like we’re conspiring.” She picks her head up and looks towards his face. “It’s like we’re half in a dream, half awake. I’m sixteen years-old. I should be worrying about not being able to drive, or my grades or what college I want to go to in two years. I shouldn’t have to worry about dying from a disease that doesn’t seem to exist anymore, losing my vision and my magic in tandem. I shouldn’t have to worry about falling in love with a guy I can’t possibly have, because sixteen year-olds aren’t supposed to be in long-term relationships, or meet their soul mates or whatever.”
“Watchers technically can’t have soul mates,” he breaks in, and she socks him lightly.
“Shut up, you know what I mean. I spent my entire life trying to be normal, but always just on the outside. Now I learn that there’s basically no hope of ever being normal, and I basically have my mother to thank for that. If only she had freaking left me in the eleventh century...”
“You know that only Mathieu could make that decision,” Daniel finally offers, his arms still around her. “If you’re that upset, take it up with him. But just imagine you in the eleventh century. You think you could handle it?”
“You think I could handle my blindness?” She shoots back. “It’s the same thing- people are always going on about how sorry they are and how young I am and don’t I miss being able to see. And the truth is- no, I don’t. Because I never could see, at least not properly. I don’t know anything different. And if Mathieu had left my mother in the eleventh century, then I wouldn’t know anything different about that either.”
“So you’re blaming Mathieu for everything? I thought your mother was your favorite scapegoat?”
“Shut up,” she mutters, trying to step away again. But, as usual, he blocks her. “It’s not- I just want to be normal for once. We’re here, pretty much talking treason, except that treason can’t really exist, not in the modern United States of America, where we’re currently standing. It sounds like we’re out of some fantasy epic, and I just can’t deal with this anymore! I’m alone, because there’s no one else I dare bring into this, except you. My parents are gone. I’m luckily that no one has knocked on the door looking for them yet. Just what am I supposed to do when someone does, and it comes out that they’ve just disappeared off the face of the earth?”
“Dimension, probably.” She raises a hand to hit him again, but he grabs her wrist, releasing a slight wave of power into it. She relaxes instantly. “And I know. Believe me, I know what it’s like to be alone. Being a Watcher isn’t easy, Rian,” he uses her pet name- he’s the only one that ever does. “It’s- I think I understand why Mathieu did it, and,” he presses on, before she can open her mouth to protest, “to be honest, I’d probably do the same thing. It’s a burden, knowing what is going to happen before it happens, or knowing that if one tiny little thing was different, everything would change. It’s tempting- too tempting sometimes.”
He signs, runs his free hand through his curls. “’If things do not turn out as we wish, we should wish for them as they turn out.’ Aristotle,” he smiles at her questioning glance. “And I have the power to change the way things turn out. Think of all the good- but also, of all the evil one could do with these powers. That’s why there are strict laws about them. We’re not all powerful, but the ability to change time at will is a great power- a great burden, and it is not one I would wish on a loved one.”
“I know, I get that,” she says impatiently. “I get that it’s not something you want to be saddled with. I get that Mathieu- my father- he thought he was doing the right thing. And I know there’s no point in playing “what if”, because only Mathieu can change things, and he, first of all, isn’t available to change them and second of all, wouldn’t be willing to change them. I understand. But it doesn’t make it easy, you know. And it’s like none of the so-called adults have ever sat down and actually thought about the consequences.”
“No, they probably haven’t.” Daniel shakes his head, “Watchers can be so one dimensional, for all that we’re supposedly multi-dimensional beings. All looking towards the future and the past, and completely forgetting the present.”
“That’s just so…idiotic.” She can’t find a better term. “And it still leaves us with the question of what the hell are we going to do about this- about us- about everything?”
“I’m going to leave you now,” he places a hand upon her forehead, and she closes her eyes. “And you’re going to go home and forget about me. And, maybe, someday, we’ll run into each other. But it won’t matter, because you won’t remember me, and I will do my best not to remember you. Because that’s all we can be to each other, Marian. We can only be a dream.”
“But I want to remember you,” she whispers, tears wetting her cheeks. “I want to be with you. I want you to take me with you.”
“I’m a Watcher,” he leans close and gently brushes her lips with his own. “Watchers can’t interfere with time; we can’t interfere with the people of a particular time. You’ll forget me, Rian. I’ll be some made-up person. I won’t repeat the same mistakes that brought everything down upon us in the first place. I won’t play Mathieu to your portrayal of your mother. I want us to be different. I want to break the cycle. And maybe, if we succeed, one day- one day things will be different. And I can find you.”
“Maybe,” she whispers. “I think I’ll always love you.”
“You’ll love the idea of me.” He channels power into his hand upon her forehead, watching her, committing her visage to memory, as if it’s the last time he will ever see her again- for it will be.
Because history has a knack of repeating itself, until the lesson is learned.
And he still hasn’t learned his lesson.
Author: in_excelsis_dea
Characters: Marian Rosenfeld, Daniel Yates
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG/PG-13
Disclaimer: Characters are mine. Do not take without my permission.
Prompt: 31_days November 8th A history that threatens to repeat itself
AN: I finally have a plot for my NaNo piece, thanks to this prompt and the fic that resulted out of it. Not exactly sure where this fits into the overall plot, but at least now I have a direction
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” He takes her hands in his, and she takes a moment to revel in the contrast between them- his rough, callused hands completely dwarfing her small, soft, delicate hands. He rubs his thumbs against her palms, and she closes her eyes, drawing upon the sensation.
“No, I’m not pregnant,” she sighs, opening her eyes after a few moments. “It’d be a little hard to get pregnant, seeing as how we haven’t, er, done It yet.” She can make out his shape, they’re standing that closely, but she can’t see his features, or the color of his hair or eyes- eyes that Dinah tells her are gorgeous pools into his soul.
She can hear him laugh inwardly, attempting to break up the tension between them. “Well, you never know-“
“Magic doesn’t allow children to be conceived immaculately. That’s religion,” she cuts in, her tone gaining a certain warning quality. “Stop joking around, Danny. This is important.”
“I know.” He leans forwards, rests his forehead upon hers. Her eyes close instantly and she forces herself to keep her lips slack, refusing to pucker up for a kiss that should not- cannot come. “But I want to spend the time I have with you, together. It’s- we don’t know what the future will bring.”
“No,” she replies in a whisper that is barely more than a passing breath. “No, we don’t. We just- I don’t want to end like my parents,” she mutters, forcing herself to turn away from him, but he won’t let her go completely. His hands are still grasping hers, and he uses them to pull her back against him. “Broken apart, forced to love, neither knowing when it’s all going to end-“
“Are you referring to Mathieu and your mother, or Markus and your mother? Because both are extremely different cases.” He nudges her neck with his nose, beginning to kiss her at the base of her neck, right above the collar of her shirt. “I don’t really see the comparison…”
“My mother falls in love with a man she can’t have, and ends up married to a Watcher who has fallen out of Grace. The Watcher Council interferes and pulls them apart. My mother is trapped somewhere, the man I consider my father is imprisoned for a crime he had to commit, to save everyone, and my actual father is…somewhere unknown. Too busy for his daughter.”
“In Markus’ defense, are you sure he even knows about you?” Daniel lets her go and she steps away, her back still towards him. She likes twilight, because it’s when she sees the same as everyone else in the dusky hue that threatens to smother them all. The grass is cool beneath her feet, and her skirt is just long enough for her to tuck her feet underneath it, if she pulls it down a few inches.
“I don’t know,” she finally replies, unwilling to put much thought into it. It’s something she doesn’t want to think about, doesn’t need to worry about, with everything else on her plate. Her mother says he didn’t know, but then he knows of her existence, and as someone rumored to have such great power and influence, you’d think he’d be smart enough to do the simple math and realize that she can’t be Mathieu’s- the man who raised her, the man she calls “Father”- daughter.
Even if he has always loved her like his own daughter.
“My mother- she said Mathieu pulled her away, out of time, before she could tell him. But I’ve met Markus, and he’s not stupid. It’s right in front of his nose.”
“No, it’s not.” Daniel puts a heavy hand on her shoulder. “He’s not expecting to have a daughter, if your mother told the truth. So he’d logically assume that you are the daughter of your mother and Mathieu. You look like your mother- it’s not far of a stretch to assume that you are Mathieu’s daughter, when you factor in Mathieu’s family being associated with Healers.”
"And what if my mother told him? You know she can’t be trusted, not in matters like this. She’s lied far too many times for me not to take anything she says without a grain of salt. Maybe she’s making excuses for him. I can see her doing that- she took a love potion for over sixteen years, just so I could have a family- or that’s what she said. I mean, how the hell do I even know that she took the potion willingly? Maybe it was some ploy Mathieu set up. Heck, maybe Mathieu is my father and the entire story is a lie and-“
He covers her lips with his own, tracing them with his tongue, pulling her close against him. She reciprocates the kiss, relaxing into his body, his arms keeping her up right as they enjoy the kiss. Finally he breaks it, and she buries her head into his shoulder, a small stream of tears trailing down her cheeks onto his shoulder.
“I’m in love with you,” she whispers, “and I know it’s wrong and we’re pretty much forbidden to be together, and the Council will cast you out if they find out. But I don’t want you to go. It’s not fair, it’s not right, and I want you here with me. At least I can trust you.”
“I know.” He brings up a hand and strokes her hair with long strokes. “I know. It’s- it’s pretty messed up.” He laughs, but it turns into a choke and she realizes that he’s either crying or at the very least, fighting back tears. “This entire mission is pointless. The only way to fix things is to change them, and we all know how well that worked out.”
“I’ll run away with you,” she whispers into his shoulder. “We can just leave, take off. We’ll disappear and no one will be able to find us.”
“You’ll die if we do that,” he hugs her closer to him, nearly crushing her- but she doesn’t complain. It’s as if he’s trying to weld them together with pure strength. “You need to be Healed.”
“A Healer who needs to be Healed.” She sniffs, forcing out a bark of laughter. “The irony…” She pauses for a moment, and then completely changes the direction of the conversation. “I don’t care. I’ve got the Book. You get the Sword. They’ll have to listen to us if we control them both.”
“We’ll need the Key too,” he reminds her, voice hushed. “Whatever, wherever it is. And blood from the line. If we don’t have an Heir, Camelot will be completely useless to us.”
“I feel like we’re conspiring.” She picks her head up and looks towards his face. “It’s like we’re half in a dream, half awake. I’m sixteen years-old. I should be worrying about not being able to drive, or my grades or what college I want to go to in two years. I shouldn’t have to worry about dying from a disease that doesn’t seem to exist anymore, losing my vision and my magic in tandem. I shouldn’t have to worry about falling in love with a guy I can’t possibly have, because sixteen year-olds aren’t supposed to be in long-term relationships, or meet their soul mates or whatever.”
“Watchers technically can’t have soul mates,” he breaks in, and she socks him lightly.
“Shut up, you know what I mean. I spent my entire life trying to be normal, but always just on the outside. Now I learn that there’s basically no hope of ever being normal, and I basically have my mother to thank for that. If only she had freaking left me in the eleventh century...”
“You know that only Mathieu could make that decision,” Daniel finally offers, his arms still around her. “If you’re that upset, take it up with him. But just imagine you in the eleventh century. You think you could handle it?”
“You think I could handle my blindness?” She shoots back. “It’s the same thing- people are always going on about how sorry they are and how young I am and don’t I miss being able to see. And the truth is- no, I don’t. Because I never could see, at least not properly. I don’t know anything different. And if Mathieu had left my mother in the eleventh century, then I wouldn’t know anything different about that either.”
“So you’re blaming Mathieu for everything? I thought your mother was your favorite scapegoat?”
“Shut up,” she mutters, trying to step away again. But, as usual, he blocks her. “It’s not- I just want to be normal for once. We’re here, pretty much talking treason, except that treason can’t really exist, not in the modern United States of America, where we’re currently standing. It sounds like we’re out of some fantasy epic, and I just can’t deal with this anymore! I’m alone, because there’s no one else I dare bring into this, except you. My parents are gone. I’m luckily that no one has knocked on the door looking for them yet. Just what am I supposed to do when someone does, and it comes out that they’ve just disappeared off the face of the earth?”
“Dimension, probably.” She raises a hand to hit him again, but he grabs her wrist, releasing a slight wave of power into it. She relaxes instantly. “And I know. Believe me, I know what it’s like to be alone. Being a Watcher isn’t easy, Rian,” he uses her pet name- he’s the only one that ever does. “It’s- I think I understand why Mathieu did it, and,” he presses on, before she can open her mouth to protest, “to be honest, I’d probably do the same thing. It’s a burden, knowing what is going to happen before it happens, or knowing that if one tiny little thing was different, everything would change. It’s tempting- too tempting sometimes.”
He signs, runs his free hand through his curls. “’If things do not turn out as we wish, we should wish for them as they turn out.’ Aristotle,” he smiles at her questioning glance. “And I have the power to change the way things turn out. Think of all the good- but also, of all the evil one could do with these powers. That’s why there are strict laws about them. We’re not all powerful, but the ability to change time at will is a great power- a great burden, and it is not one I would wish on a loved one.”
“I know, I get that,” she says impatiently. “I get that it’s not something you want to be saddled with. I get that Mathieu- my father- he thought he was doing the right thing. And I know there’s no point in playing “what if”, because only Mathieu can change things, and he, first of all, isn’t available to change them and second of all, wouldn’t be willing to change them. I understand. But it doesn’t make it easy, you know. And it’s like none of the so-called adults have ever sat down and actually thought about the consequences.”
“No, they probably haven’t.” Daniel shakes his head, “Watchers can be so one dimensional, for all that we’re supposedly multi-dimensional beings. All looking towards the future and the past, and completely forgetting the present.”
“That’s just so…idiotic.” She can’t find a better term. “And it still leaves us with the question of what the hell are we going to do about this- about us- about everything?”
“I’m going to leave you now,” he places a hand upon her forehead, and she closes her eyes. “And you’re going to go home and forget about me. And, maybe, someday, we’ll run into each other. But it won’t matter, because you won’t remember me, and I will do my best not to remember you. Because that’s all we can be to each other, Marian. We can only be a dream.”
“But I want to remember you,” she whispers, tears wetting her cheeks. “I want to be with you. I want you to take me with you.”
“I’m a Watcher,” he leans close and gently brushes her lips with his own. “Watchers can’t interfere with time; we can’t interfere with the people of a particular time. You’ll forget me, Rian. I’ll be some made-up person. I won’t repeat the same mistakes that brought everything down upon us in the first place. I won’t play Mathieu to your portrayal of your mother. I want us to be different. I want to break the cycle. And maybe, if we succeed, one day- one day things will be different. And I can find you.”
“Maybe,” she whispers. “I think I’ll always love you.”
“You’ll love the idea of me.” He channels power into his hand upon her forehead, watching her, committing her visage to memory, as if it’s the last time he will ever see her again- for it will be.
Because history has a knack of repeating itself, until the lesson is learned.
And he still hasn’t learned his lesson.