Kink Me! #11 - Project Old School
Kink Me! #11 - Project Old School
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Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #11! Project Old School
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This one is different!
As we announced earlier, KMM11 is two halves of a coin: Project Old ( Read more... )
The details aren’t important; in fact, if you look in your books, you’ll find that they all say different things. One will say that there was a dragon, and another will scoff at such fantasy, will say that it wasn’t a dragon at all but an enemy warlord. Maybe it was just Weather, playing her devious tricks, splitting Earth apart, leaving her trembling in anger.
Whatever it was - there was an accident.
And the queen nearly died.
//
You interrupt. You say, but the king loved the sorcerer, how could he marry another?
(Ah, but there are many different types of love, aren’t there?)
Hush, now. Quiet.
//
The sorcerer loved the queen because the king loved her.
And when the king wept for her coming death, the sorcerer looked down at his hands and thought,
I can save her.
And so he did.
It wasn’t the showy sort of magic that you see nowadays - all glitter and fireworks. There were no flourishes or applause. No, there were just some words and a snatch of air - because that’s all life is, a delicate breath, a soft touch, a fragile word - and it was done.
The queen woke.
And the sorcerer fled.
//
The king went after him.
(Of course he did.)
They ran for two days and three nights, across fields and oceans, across space and time.
When the sorcerer finally stopped, it was because he was tired of running from what he wanted. Better to fall at the hands of someone you once loved than to live in hate of yourself, of the whole world.
He went to the king and knelt. He said, I’m sorry and, know that I loved you, always.
And the sorcerer bowed his head and waited. He waited for a strike that did not come.
When he lifted his head, he found the king kneeling beside him.
The king looked tired and miserable, but he took the sorcerer’s cold hands in his and said gently,
This is not where our story ends, Merlin; we are not just a single page in a book but an epic,
for the king loved the sorcerer (Merlin) deep as the seas, vast as the skies, more than he could ever hate.
//
Is that the end? you ask.
(How you wish it was.)
No. No.
//
They lived - long lives or short, it doesn’t matter, because this is a myth.
Or is it history?
The king ruled his lands virtuously, justly. He was loved fiercely by his subjects, and he fiercely loved them in return. He fed the poor with bread from the castle kitchens and spent hours in the lower town, helping patch up houses after the heavy winds. He relied on his sorcerer as if the sorcerer was an extra arm, much-needed and well-loved. The sorcerer was wise, and together, the king and the sorcerer let magic flow back into the kingdom, letting fear be replaced by wonder, despair with hope.
It was a lovely time, as anyone who’d lived back then could tell you.
//
But it didn’t last forever.
//
This is a lurid tale of incest, of betrayal, of patricide.
But ours is a tale about the king and his sorcerer, not a tale about the king and his son.
//
The king died in a lonely tent with frayed banners.
He wasn’t particularly old, but he wasn’t all that young, either.
He died happily.
(How, you demand, how can anyone die happily? His son killed him, how could he be happy?)
Well. Because this is what happened:
//
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