Fic: Apples
Title: Apples
Author: suaine
Rating: PG
Summary: I am much more than that, I am your kin.
Pairing: Hunith/Dragon
Notes: I don't know what this is. The romantic sadness of it caught me unawares, I only meant to write about how Hunith reacts to knowing about Merlin's choice on the Isle of the Blessed.
Hunith recovers quickly, regaining strength within hours, even though her skin is still marked by the healing sores. She must look a fright as she makes her way through the castle, for the servants' eyes fall off her like a blade glances off the prince's armor. The kitchen maids freeze as she comes in to take a small apple and a cherry pie. The apple she tucks into her apron. The pie she eats, delighting in the sweet flavor as it explodes across her tongue. She hasn't had proper food since she-
Since she died.
Hunith knows a fair bit more about magic than she is ever going to tell her son. She has never been talented with it like Merlin, or studious enough to make up for the lack like Gaius. She has, however, a great sense for it, tasting it on the air when it's wrought close enough. She knows when magic tears at her skin and poisons her blood. She also knows when it rips her from the brink - is it still the brink when she's gone over, soaring in the midnight sky? - of death.
Magic has been her life, from that very first moment she touched it, as a small girl frollicking in the wake of fairies. Magic has made her whole, has given her a son and that alone is worth everything.
Her steps take her down, into the dungeons, and it's the elation following the prince's recovery that make the guards drowsy in their cups, inattentive. Perhaps she will mention this to Gaius or Merlin, but she thinks perhaps this is another secret she will keep. The men deserve some happiness and they are only guarding the dragon - he deserves some company from children who would style themselves rebellious.
It has been a long time, twenty years or more, she can not be certain. Time passed so much like a capricious puppy around her when Merlin was young, zipping backward or in circles twisting around their little house. He had always been powerful and as a child, his magic had torn through the world like a crossbow bolt through flesh.
"Hunith," the dragon greets her. It is a sound she hasn't heard in years and it makes her legs weak with fear.
"Dragon," she says, and sits at the edge of the cliff that leads into darkness. She's been in a similar position all her life, balancing the precipice. "I have brought you a gift," she says, and holds out the apple.
The enormous snout comes to rest on her hand, taking her offering between two hard, scaly lips. There is gentleness in the gesture and she chastizes herself for half-expecting to have her hand bitten off. The dragon chews on the apple rather more than the morsel deserves and makes a contented sound, almost like a cat.
"Thank you," he says, his head coming to rest beside her, his voice very quiet for a dragon, almost a whisper. "I have not tasted anything like that in far too long."
Hunith shrugs. "You always liked them and it is such a small thing."
"Small things," the dragon says, voice going a little dreamy, a little like prophecy, "can have great impact on the lives around them."
Hunith nods and silence settles between them. The dragon only breathes every third time that she inhales, and his heart likely beats much slower than her own, but that never mattered between them. Their rhythms find each other and synch, somehow, between human and beast. She sits for a long time, trying to think of nothing but the presence beside her, a presence that she remembers so very well.
"That summer," she says then, "I loved you like you were the greatest man in the world."
The dragon huffs. "I was never a man, even if I looked it."
She smiles at his indignation. "And I knew it, I could feel the magic running through you like a forest spring."
"We were destined," he says, sounding a little like Merlin at his most petulant. She laughs, a clear, young sound she's not heard from herself in too long.
"So that was all it was," she says, "for you, the great dragon, to come to a failed sorcerer's apprentice, a maiden who had nothing but too big a heart by half, just destiny?"
One large, golden eye looks at her with that piercing intensity. She wants to reach out and touch his snout, the soft looking scales at the underside of his neck. She wants to remember. "Did destiny specify my name, or could it have been any of the dozen girls who fit that description?" The bitterness surprises her and she wonders if that is something she's been carrying around, letting it fester, for years, or if it has bloomed in the wake of Merlin's sacrifice.
The dragon's eye closes and he sighs, sounding for once impossibly human. "There could never have been anyone else." The words are spoken so softly, they get lost in the space between them, but she can still feel them in her heart.
"I know," she says, slowly, awkwardly, because this is not her battle and she needs to fight it anyway. Her son doesn't know, and perhaps he should not. "What you asked of him, to save the prince."
A grinding sound, like millstones turning against each other, makes her shiver, and she realizes the dragon is clenching his teeth. "It was a necessary sacrifice for the future of all of Albion."
"You would have killed me?"
Like the rumbling of the earth, a growl rises from his throat. "It would have been the greatest sacrifice I have ever been asked to make for the sake of the future, greater than these chains, and greater than the life of one of my own."
Hunith nods, knowing what the scream in the night has meant, the death of a dragon, even if Nimueh has grown so used to her human form that few knew her otherwise. A sister, perhaps the last of their kind, and the dragon bears it because he must. "You know, don't you?" She asks, not talking about Nimueh, but about Merlin's choice.
"He didn't," the dragon says, "he expected to die himself. He never would have offered your life."
Hunith laughs, even now the dragon tries to soothe her, even after destiny has torn them both limb from limb. The dragon. Her dragon. "He hasn't been asked, he hasn't been tested like that," she says, "and I thank you for it."
The dragon huffs a breath and shifts his head a little closer to her. "He thinks that this lie is my crime against him. He loves you fiercely."
She reaches out then, touches the cold, hard skin, and it feels like home. "He doesn't know that he would choose the prince, doesn't know how far his love for Uther's son really goes, and for that I am grateful. It would have destroyed him to sacrifice me, but he would have done it. You know that as well as I."
"I do," the dragon says, sighing a little, pressing ever so slightly into her hand. "I am glad he found a way to save you."
Hunith smiles, rests her head against the dragon's. "Even at the price of Nimueh?"
The dragon doesn't speak, but they both know the truth. For love like this, no price is too high. Love like Merlin's that could bend the world to its knees for his prince. Love like Uther's that has set a whole kingdom ablaze. Hunith sits with the dragon until they can both feel the light of Merlin's magic return to Camelot, shining like a beacon, and with a last kiss to his bright scales, Hunith bids her beloved goodbye.
Author: suaine
Rating: PG
Summary: I am much more than that, I am your kin.
Pairing: Hunith/Dragon
Notes: I don't know what this is. The romantic sadness of it caught me unawares, I only meant to write about how Hunith reacts to knowing about Merlin's choice on the Isle of the Blessed.
Hunith recovers quickly, regaining strength within hours, even though her skin is still marked by the healing sores. She must look a fright as she makes her way through the castle, for the servants' eyes fall off her like a blade glances off the prince's armor. The kitchen maids freeze as she comes in to take a small apple and a cherry pie. The apple she tucks into her apron. The pie she eats, delighting in the sweet flavor as it explodes across her tongue. She hasn't had proper food since she-
Since she died.
Hunith knows a fair bit more about magic than she is ever going to tell her son. She has never been talented with it like Merlin, or studious enough to make up for the lack like Gaius. She has, however, a great sense for it, tasting it on the air when it's wrought close enough. She knows when magic tears at her skin and poisons her blood. She also knows when it rips her from the brink - is it still the brink when she's gone over, soaring in the midnight sky? - of death.
Magic has been her life, from that very first moment she touched it, as a small girl frollicking in the wake of fairies. Magic has made her whole, has given her a son and that alone is worth everything.
Her steps take her down, into the dungeons, and it's the elation following the prince's recovery that make the guards drowsy in their cups, inattentive. Perhaps she will mention this to Gaius or Merlin, but she thinks perhaps this is another secret she will keep. The men deserve some happiness and they are only guarding the dragon - he deserves some company from children who would style themselves rebellious.
It has been a long time, twenty years or more, she can not be certain. Time passed so much like a capricious puppy around her when Merlin was young, zipping backward or in circles twisting around their little house. He had always been powerful and as a child, his magic had torn through the world like a crossbow bolt through flesh.
"Hunith," the dragon greets her. It is a sound she hasn't heard in years and it makes her legs weak with fear.
"Dragon," she says, and sits at the edge of the cliff that leads into darkness. She's been in a similar position all her life, balancing the precipice. "I have brought you a gift," she says, and holds out the apple.
The enormous snout comes to rest on her hand, taking her offering between two hard, scaly lips. There is gentleness in the gesture and she chastizes herself for half-expecting to have her hand bitten off. The dragon chews on the apple rather more than the morsel deserves and makes a contented sound, almost like a cat.
"Thank you," he says, his head coming to rest beside her, his voice very quiet for a dragon, almost a whisper. "I have not tasted anything like that in far too long."
Hunith shrugs. "You always liked them and it is such a small thing."
"Small things," the dragon says, voice going a little dreamy, a little like prophecy, "can have great impact on the lives around them."
Hunith nods and silence settles between them. The dragon only breathes every third time that she inhales, and his heart likely beats much slower than her own, but that never mattered between them. Their rhythms find each other and synch, somehow, between human and beast. She sits for a long time, trying to think of nothing but the presence beside her, a presence that she remembers so very well.
"That summer," she says then, "I loved you like you were the greatest man in the world."
The dragon huffs. "I was never a man, even if I looked it."
She smiles at his indignation. "And I knew it, I could feel the magic running through you like a forest spring."
"We were destined," he says, sounding a little like Merlin at his most petulant. She laughs, a clear, young sound she's not heard from herself in too long.
"So that was all it was," she says, "for you, the great dragon, to come to a failed sorcerer's apprentice, a maiden who had nothing but too big a heart by half, just destiny?"
One large, golden eye looks at her with that piercing intensity. She wants to reach out and touch his snout, the soft looking scales at the underside of his neck. She wants to remember. "Did destiny specify my name, or could it have been any of the dozen girls who fit that description?" The bitterness surprises her and she wonders if that is something she's been carrying around, letting it fester, for years, or if it has bloomed in the wake of Merlin's sacrifice.
The dragon's eye closes and he sighs, sounding for once impossibly human. "There could never have been anyone else." The words are spoken so softly, they get lost in the space between them, but she can still feel them in her heart.
"I know," she says, slowly, awkwardly, because this is not her battle and she needs to fight it anyway. Her son doesn't know, and perhaps he should not. "What you asked of him, to save the prince."
A grinding sound, like millstones turning against each other, makes her shiver, and she realizes the dragon is clenching his teeth. "It was a necessary sacrifice for the future of all of Albion."
"You would have killed me?"
Like the rumbling of the earth, a growl rises from his throat. "It would have been the greatest sacrifice I have ever been asked to make for the sake of the future, greater than these chains, and greater than the life of one of my own."
Hunith nods, knowing what the scream in the night has meant, the death of a dragon, even if Nimueh has grown so used to her human form that few knew her otherwise. A sister, perhaps the last of their kind, and the dragon bears it because he must. "You know, don't you?" She asks, not talking about Nimueh, but about Merlin's choice.
"He didn't," the dragon says, "he expected to die himself. He never would have offered your life."
Hunith laughs, even now the dragon tries to soothe her, even after destiny has torn them both limb from limb. The dragon. Her dragon. "He hasn't been asked, he hasn't been tested like that," she says, "and I thank you for it."
The dragon huffs a breath and shifts his head a little closer to her. "He thinks that this lie is my crime against him. He loves you fiercely."
She reaches out then, touches the cold, hard skin, and it feels like home. "He doesn't know that he would choose the prince, doesn't know how far his love for Uther's son really goes, and for that I am grateful. It would have destroyed him to sacrifice me, but he would have done it. You know that as well as I."
"I do," the dragon says, sighing a little, pressing ever so slightly into her hand. "I am glad he found a way to save you."
Hunith smiles, rests her head against the dragon's. "Even at the price of Nimueh?"
The dragon doesn't speak, but they both know the truth. For love like this, no price is too high. Love like Merlin's that could bend the world to its knees for his prince. Love like Uther's that has set a whole kingdom ablaze. Hunith sits with the dragon until they can both feel the light of Merlin's magic return to Camelot, shining like a beacon, and with a last kiss to his bright scales, Hunith bids her beloved goodbye.