Mini drabbles
A/N: These were my 3 entries into the first mini challenge over at ag_fics. I can't believe how much I enjoyed this challenge, apparently my loathing of word limits does not extend to 3 sentence limits. I just wanted to say a massive thank you to the girls over at ag_fics for organising this challenge and for the awesome banners :)
Prompt: It's the End of the World, but there's always time for arguing.
(#1) Not the right time, G
'Did you or did you not kiss Merlin?' Arthur asked outraged as he grappled with two of their black-clad assailants.
'Arthur, do you really think this is the right time to be discussing this?' was her response just as she landed a well placed blow which caused her attacker to crumple at the knees and collapse into a writhing heap on the ground.
They exchanged a fleeting look, then realisation seemed to dawn on him, ‘I can't believe you kissed Merlin!' he said in indignation, looking a little nauseated, 'that's...' he spluttered, 'that's gross!'
A/N: So yeah, this won second place and I got this very pretty banner, made by the very talented mustbethursday3
Prompt: Time stands still...
(#18) Waiting, PG
His face is bloody, he's pretty sure he's broken at least one rib and the muscles in his arms burn as if on fire- but it doesn't matter, nothing matters.
He doesn't notice the battle carrying on around him, it is a blur of red and gold, blood and flames.
Time drags by too slowly as he cradles her to him, waiting for her next breath- praying that it's coming.
A/N: Quite possibly the 3 most depressing A/G related lines I have ever written and as a consequence I got this lovely banner for best angst :)
Prompt: Smiling
(#5) Turnips, G
'Arthur, what's the matter with you?' Uther demanded, 'wipe that grin off your face this instant, turnips throughout the kingdom are vanishing without explanation- this is a serious business.'
It took a moment for Arthur to register that his father had even spoken, occupied as he was with studying Guinevere's over bright eyes and slightly swollen lips- results of their meeting in an alcove, not five minutes before- with something like pride.
Uther's words finally hit him; he swiftly changed his expression to one appropriate for a funeral and focused his newly sombre eyes on his father 'so disappearing turnips?'
A/N: And this is what happens when I write fics at 2 in the morning making notes about the Irish potato famine for hours- somehow this fic also got into the top 10. I can only assume the voters were as sleep deprived as I was when writing it :P And I got a great participation banner for this one too
