All good things [fic]
Title: All good things
Rating: PG - 13
Pairing[s]: Merlin/Nimueh
Word Count: 710
Spoilers: Series in general, the end of the legend.
Prompt: 02. Cadence for 18coda
Summary: Merlin falls. So does Camelot.
A/N: And yes that is a shameless "Princess Bride" reference.
She finds him in the first place she looks. For all his power and wit, at heart Merlin remains an uncomplicated country boy. That and the view of Camelot from here is magnificent, even in the depths of night. Nimueh can imagine him looking down upon it proudly.
As she did once, in Uther’s day. Once, so long ago.
She approaches silently, but he still knows. “What do you want?”
“I didn’t feel your presence in today’s melee.” she says easily, drawing level with him. “I was concerned.”
“You need not concern yourself.” he says shortly.
Nimueh takes in the tight set of shoulders, the clenched fists hanging helpless at his sides and nods knowingly. Some things, it seems, never change.
“Poor boy. It’s all come crashing down around you, hasn’t it?”
“Quiet!” he snaps. Above their heads the leaves shudder.
Nimueh ignores him and stands beside him to take in the view. It’s hard to believe that the grand kingdom beneath sits on the edge of destruction. That somewhere deep within its walls his Camelot, forged of flesh and blood and friendship and trust, is shattering irreparably apart.
“I told you it would lie in ruins one day.” she says.
For a moment Merlin makes no reply. “Is there any joy to be found in destroying things?” he asks, harking back to some long ago battle of wits, or perhaps heralding one that has yet to come. They do not converse, they have never simply talked.
“Yes.” she decides “It is hollow, and doesn’t keep, though in times such as these one must take what joy one can find.” she smiles up at him and sees the corner of his mouth twitch before he looks away.
His enemies have always gone about it the wrong way - even Morgana, who should have known better - all seeking to topple him through some feat of strength, to strike him down and smite him.
Nimueh has always sought the shadows in him, to nurture them, to tempt them. And what beautiful shadows they are. It saddens her that she could never turn him away from Arthur, not completely. With power such as his…he would have been a man to behold! His greatness would have been seen and recognised by all. Not caught in glimpses by a sulky, pampered prince and a skulking sorceress, not misunderstood until almost the last moment.
He could have been such a man, and was forced to hide himself for so many years to be accepted by his friends - friends who have now so quickly abandoned him like the fickle little children they are.
“I lost Gwen. I lost Morgana. I lost Lancelot somewhere down the line.” he sighs heavily, for a moment his eyes are ancient. “I even lost Arthur in the end.”
Nimueh steps closer still, taking a cool, unresisting hand in both of hers. “You’ll always have me.” she tells him “And the day will come when you’ll want me.”
Finally Merlin turns and looks at her, as though he’s only just realised that she’s there. His hand pulls free of hers and closes around her arm. “I want you now.”
Nimueh looks him up and down and smirks. “You’d have anybody now.” she whispers, but she closes the distance between them all the same. The kiss is almost too personal; it’s vicious and mocking and threatens to tear them both apart.
Later they lie next to one another in the moonlight, untouched by the cold.
“Bury me, Nimueh,” Merlin whispers, the grass stirring from his breath “Hide me away, somewhere even I wouldn’t look for me. Somewhere they can’t drag me back from. Where I won’t hear the towers fall.”
Nimueh smoothes a hand through his hair. “You want to spare yourself the pain?”
Merlin rolls over onto his back, breaking away from her. “I shall spare everyone the pain of making this any longer than necessary.” he says, fingers drifting toward the stars to trace their shapes. “They all complained of my habit of helping hopeless cases. I’m sure they’ll all be delighted to hear that I have grown out of it.”
There is such bitterness in his voice, almost like reluctance. Poor boy. She leans over and kisses his forehead. “As you wish.”
Rating: PG - 13
Pairing[s]: Merlin/Nimueh
Word Count: 710
Spoilers: Series in general, the end of the legend.
Prompt: 02. Cadence for 18coda
Summary: Merlin falls. So does Camelot.
A/N: And yes that is a shameless "Princess Bride" reference.
She finds him in the first place she looks. For all his power and wit, at heart Merlin remains an uncomplicated country boy. That and the view of Camelot from here is magnificent, even in the depths of night. Nimueh can imagine him looking down upon it proudly.
As she did once, in Uther’s day. Once, so long ago.
She approaches silently, but he still knows. “What do you want?”
“I didn’t feel your presence in today’s melee.” she says easily, drawing level with him. “I was concerned.”
“You need not concern yourself.” he says shortly.
Nimueh takes in the tight set of shoulders, the clenched fists hanging helpless at his sides and nods knowingly. Some things, it seems, never change.
“Poor boy. It’s all come crashing down around you, hasn’t it?”
“Quiet!” he snaps. Above their heads the leaves shudder.
Nimueh ignores him and stands beside him to take in the view. It’s hard to believe that the grand kingdom beneath sits on the edge of destruction. That somewhere deep within its walls his Camelot, forged of flesh and blood and friendship and trust, is shattering irreparably apart.
“I told you it would lie in ruins one day.” she says.
For a moment Merlin makes no reply. “Is there any joy to be found in destroying things?” he asks, harking back to some long ago battle of wits, or perhaps heralding one that has yet to come. They do not converse, they have never simply talked.
“Yes.” she decides “It is hollow, and doesn’t keep, though in times such as these one must take what joy one can find.” she smiles up at him and sees the corner of his mouth twitch before he looks away.
His enemies have always gone about it the wrong way - even Morgana, who should have known better - all seeking to topple him through some feat of strength, to strike him down and smite him.
Nimueh has always sought the shadows in him, to nurture them, to tempt them. And what beautiful shadows they are. It saddens her that she could never turn him away from Arthur, not completely. With power such as his…he would have been a man to behold! His greatness would have been seen and recognised by all. Not caught in glimpses by a sulky, pampered prince and a skulking sorceress, not misunderstood until almost the last moment.
He could have been such a man, and was forced to hide himself for so many years to be accepted by his friends - friends who have now so quickly abandoned him like the fickle little children they are.
“I lost Gwen. I lost Morgana. I lost Lancelot somewhere down the line.” he sighs heavily, for a moment his eyes are ancient. “I even lost Arthur in the end.”
Nimueh steps closer still, taking a cool, unresisting hand in both of hers. “You’ll always have me.” she tells him “And the day will come when you’ll want me.”
Finally Merlin turns and looks at her, as though he’s only just realised that she’s there. His hand pulls free of hers and closes around her arm. “I want you now.”
Nimueh looks him up and down and smirks. “You’d have anybody now.” she whispers, but she closes the distance between them all the same. The kiss is almost too personal; it’s vicious and mocking and threatens to tear them both apart.
Later they lie next to one another in the moonlight, untouched by the cold.
“Bury me, Nimueh,” Merlin whispers, the grass stirring from his breath “Hide me away, somewhere even I wouldn’t look for me. Somewhere they can’t drag me back from. Where I won’t hear the towers fall.”
Nimueh smoothes a hand through his hair. “You want to spare yourself the pain?”
Merlin rolls over onto his back, breaking away from her. “I shall spare everyone the pain of making this any longer than necessary.” he says, fingers drifting toward the stars to trace their shapes. “They all complained of my habit of helping hopeless cases. I’m sure they’ll all be delighted to hear that I have grown out of it.”
There is such bitterness in his voice, almost like reluctance. Poor boy. She leans over and kisses his forehead. “As you wish.”