Merlin ficlet - Say it With Snow
For babydracky's Merlin advent ( calendar found here)
Title: Say it with Snow
Pairing: Mordred/Morgana
Rated: PG
Words: 500 Warning: none
Summary: Mordred is embarrassed to tell Morgana how he feels about her and so chooses to do it indirectly
Prompt: SNOWMAN
He doesn't like Agravaine. The besotted old fool is probably old enough to be his grandfather. Morgana should be with someone who will live long enough to protect and cherish her as she deserves. Mordred is only seven years younger than Morgana. He can capably fill the role of her champion for decades to come.
Seventeen makes Mordred old enough to be married and father of three children in most places he's lived, yet around Morgana (and especially Agravaine) he still feels like a boy. He supervises the younger Druids Morgana has taken into her care while she and Agravaine plot alone. Building snow folk is an innocent way to exercise their fledgling talents and gives Mordred an idea.
His heart beats guiltily as he makes an image of himself in powdered ice. He hopes he hasn't exaggerated any features, or made it appear younger and more innocent than he truly is. The snow-Mordred's hands cross over its chest, where its heart would be. He uses the juice of crushed berries to give the appearance of blood seeping through snow fingers, reserving his magic to make everything else perfect-particularly the words inscribed in forest-green above and below the snowman's heart. If he traced it in with his finger or a twig it would look spiky and childish, his hands shake so much.
This is foolishness. Morgana sees him as the timid, voiceless Druid boy she sheltered from execution. She will always see him thus, should he live to be a white-haired old man like her dreaded Emrys.
Mordred should tell her about Emrys and Merlin, but he can’t. It’s more difficult than saying “Goodnight Morgana, I love you” which he has never said. He prepares to obliterate the snowman’s detail and hears her soft tread accompanied by Agravaine’s assertive clomping through the snow. Mordred smirks. The older man would not tread so heavily if he felt sure of his position.
“Leave me to delight in the joy my children bring me please, Lord Agravaine.”
Mordred has once again been classed as one of the children. He yearns to feed the triumph burning in Agravaine’s eyes so he is consumed the fire. He will foil Agravaine’s plans at every turn, and then take his place as trusted counsel, ally, and (everything within him chokes on the word) consort.
Do not waste your envy on that pitiful creature, dearest.
Her voice speaks gently in his mind, like a caress. He closes his eyes to savour the sensation.
He has never been, and never will be my consort. That honour shall belong only to you.
Mordred’s eyes open, disbelieving. Her affectionate appraisal of his creation tells him her words are true.
Time is all that stands between us. Wait for me? Morgana smiles coquettishly at Mordred.
“As you wish, my Lady.”
Morgana is pleased with Mordred’s response, and nods before praising the younger children. “Come inside the moment Father tells you.” Her eyes gesture to Mordred before she leaves them to play.
Title: Say it with Snow
Pairing: Mordred/Morgana
Rated: PG
Words: 500 Warning: none
Summary: Mordred is embarrassed to tell Morgana how he feels about her and so chooses to do it indirectly
Prompt: SNOWMAN
He doesn't like Agravaine. The besotted old fool is probably old enough to be his grandfather. Morgana should be with someone who will live long enough to protect and cherish her as she deserves. Mordred is only seven years younger than Morgana. He can capably fill the role of her champion for decades to come.
Seventeen makes Mordred old enough to be married and father of three children in most places he's lived, yet around Morgana (and especially Agravaine) he still feels like a boy. He supervises the younger Druids Morgana has taken into her care while she and Agravaine plot alone. Building snow folk is an innocent way to exercise their fledgling talents and gives Mordred an idea.
His heart beats guiltily as he makes an image of himself in powdered ice. He hopes he hasn't exaggerated any features, or made it appear younger and more innocent than he truly is. The snow-Mordred's hands cross over its chest, where its heart would be. He uses the juice of crushed berries to give the appearance of blood seeping through snow fingers, reserving his magic to make everything else perfect-particularly the words inscribed in forest-green above and below the snowman's heart. If he traced it in with his finger or a twig it would look spiky and childish, his hands shake so much.
This is foolishness. Morgana sees him as the timid, voiceless Druid boy she sheltered from execution. She will always see him thus, should he live to be a white-haired old man like her dreaded Emrys.
Mordred should tell her about Emrys and Merlin, but he can’t. It’s more difficult than saying “Goodnight Morgana, I love you” which he has never said. He prepares to obliterate the snowman’s detail and hears her soft tread accompanied by Agravaine’s assertive clomping through the snow. Mordred smirks. The older man would not tread so heavily if he felt sure of his position.
“Leave me to delight in the joy my children bring me please, Lord Agravaine.”
Mordred has once again been classed as one of the children. He yearns to feed the triumph burning in Agravaine’s eyes so he is consumed the fire. He will foil Agravaine’s plans at every turn, and then take his place as trusted counsel, ally, and (everything within him chokes on the word) consort.
Do not waste your envy on that pitiful creature, dearest.
Her voice speaks gently in his mind, like a caress. He closes his eyes to savour the sensation.
He has never been, and never will be my consort. That honour shall belong only to you.
Mordred’s eyes open, disbelieving. Her affectionate appraisal of his creation tells him her words are true.
Time is all that stands between us. Wait for me? Morgana smiles coquettishly at Mordred.
“As you wish, my Lady.”
Morgana is pleased with Mordred’s response, and nods before praising the younger children. “Come inside the moment Father tells you.” Her eyes gesture to Mordred before she leaves them to play.