"Merlin, If I Die -"

I'll never drop my sword.

scenes from my recent animation.

for the @merlinmicrofic prompts Home, Desperate measures and "You wouldn't."

Merlin & Arthur, Gen, 3 x 100 words, Major character death, AO3 link

for @mightybog

A heavy soul, a hopeful man

Their world is in crisis. It aches for its saviour.

“Emrys,” the Disir call.

He despises them. He comes anyway. There's kinship in being the last of the old ones.

“It's time." One steps forward, in her hand a coin.

“What,” he scoffs, “is it my turn to suffer your judgment?”

“We offer a chance. The time of the Once and Future King is nigh. You know it, you yourself have assembled his court.”

It's true. He's found them, souls reborn. The knights. Guinevere.

She flicks the coin into the air. “His rest in Avalon is over. Bring him home.”

The coin spins and spins, reaches its zenith, plummets down.

“Heads or tails?” He remains silent. “That's right, there is no answer. It is both and neither, a mere matter of perspective.”

“Save your riddles.”

“Two sides of a coin, inseparable. One up, one down. It will take all your magic to bring him back, every last bit of you.”

A pause.

“I will die?”

A look of pity, unwanted. “We'll lend you strength. You have three months.”

Its days numbered, his heart beats faster, rebellious. Desperate times. There's no choice. He bends his knee and picks up the coin.

Arthur returned is his every joy. He teaches him about the new world, laughs at him trying to operate a microwave, watches him discover ice cream - looming catastrophe momentarily dismissed.

Blissful ignorance can't last; his magic's gone, he's fading. Confession - now or never.

“No, you wouldn't, please don't-”

“You will have the others. You know the way. You don't need me anymore.”

“I will always-”

“Don't. Please.”

The day dwindles. Miniscule waves disturb the third full moon's reflection on the inky black lake waters. Merlin sits by its shore, Arthur's arm around his shoulders, and, for the last time, waits.

Illustrations done for the chapter "Gareth and Lynette" (that has a major Tennysonian influence but with the ending from Malory) in the 1909 book "The Children’s King Arthur: Stories from Tennyson and Malory" by an unknown author, published by Henry Frowde and Hodder & Stoughton [x].

"Draw me like one of your anatomy illustrations."

part 2 of Utherus edits (part 1)

I saw this and had to make the edit

Arthur & Merlin or Arthur/Merlin (you decide) | Teen & Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 500

Arthur Pendragon Returns | Angst | Language Barrier | Sad Ending

For @merlinmicrofic with the prompt "frozen"

Arthur returns but Merlin finds he can no longer understand him.

“You can't understand me, so I will say this-”  “I’m sorry I couldn't stay the same.”  “If I was afforded the choice, Merlin, if there were only one thing left of my kingdom, one soul, it would be you.”  “I've lived so long, I've lived too long.”  “So please.”  “You deserve someone who could’ve held on for you.”  “I need you to understand.”

☾ ☾ ☾

A snowstorm, a series of blue arrowheads and an infernal swirl on the television, arrived a few days before the winter solstice. The dead silence, the disappeared roads and finally, the sudden interruption to the electricity called to Merlin’s slow, ancient mind the way the world had once been, quieter, colder.     

It was then that he felt Arthur’s impending return, unmistakable, a change in the seismograph. 

The lake was solid and as blue as the dawn sky above it. 

The ice was singing like steel cables and whale song. He had waited here many times before, mad with certainty and loneliness that this was the day. 

But this was the day. 

The song rose in tempo, and in a sudden crack, a familiar boat. 

Merlin stumbled forward, fell through where the ice was thin and before he knew it, the once king, the future king, was gathering him, shivering, in his arms.  

Merlin clutched onto him and in his ear Arthur said- 

What were these words? Hard consonants so wholly unfamiliar that Merlin wondered if he had ever understood them, if the same sounds had ever passed his own lips. Emotion broke every other syllable, he could understand the utter relief in them, but the words themselves? 

“I don't- Arthur I don't understand.” 

***

Before they could understand each other without words, but no longer, not when there was so much to say.

Merlin tried, but his eroded memory had too long forsaken learning. The weeks went on, and in the tense and then pleading sounds that Arthur made, Merlin understood two things: Arthur had been frozen and had emerged from the lake perfectly intact; Merlin however could not breach the surface of his own stagnant pool. 

Arthur continued his noises, his hard consonants and the occasional gnashing of his teeth, and Merlin despaired. 

***

It wasn’t fair, Merlin knew. Time meant denial was robbed from Arthur’s grieving. Now Merlin was asking him to bury understanding along with their friends. Instead he piled all of that denial onto Merlin’s unyielding tongue. 

One day in the dusty, moldy space that Merlin resided in, that he struggled to keep in order with time rushing past him as it did, Arthur snapped. He seized his arms, his eyes wild, wet. 

“You’re not trying!”  he cried, angry, in that language Merlin no longer possessed.

“I don't- I’m trying.” 

“You're all that's left.”  

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” 

Sometimes a word would prick Merlin’s ears, and he would hear Welsh, Latin, or else it would stir something in his long memory, but it was recognition without comprehension. The words transformed and melded together, evading his grasp. 

“You can't understand me, so I will say this-” 

“I’m sorry I couldn't stay the same.” 

“If I was afforded the choice, Merlin, if there were only one thing left of my kingdom, one soul, it would be you.” 

“I've lived so long. I've lived too long.” 

“So please.” 

“You deserve someone who could’ve held on for you.” 

“I need you to understand.”

for the @merlinmicrofic prompt "nightfall": Merlin/Lancelot, G, major character death, 100 words, AO3 link dedicated to the most lovely @thefollow-spot, inspired by her drabble "Untitled" (Dusk) midnight

This is how you'll grieve – in quietness.

Behind closed eyelids is where now he lives, in dreams, it is not merely night that falls but memories, like rockslide, and you're trapped, but oh what sweet suffocation it is.

He gifted you his nights, he held your secret in his palm, you might've given him your heart as well, and he would've kept it safe.

The veil looked at you and blinked and he was gone, and you think, did he have regrets? You recognised then love as his undoing, and hope he knew of yours.

This is how you'll remember.

For most witches, it is often appropriate to blend the spoken charm with certain physical rites of folk magic. These are usually understood within the two pillars of what we call simulacra and contagia. The first of these refers to an object that represents something else. . . . Contagion, however works differently, spreading its influence slowly and regularly by proximity to the target of the charm. . . . For the witch who desires to pair well-established folk magical methods alongside the work of incantation, any of the following methods would be more than appropriate . . .

from The Witch's Art of Incantation; Spoken Charms, Spells, & Curses in Folk Witchcraft by Roger J. Horne

Reblog if you love Gwen

been doing a LOT of analog note-taking / journaling / planning lately (new years' resolution fulfilled! yes!), and I've slowly but surely started writing mostly in cursive again.

that said, I'm old (almost 35, ew) so I have questions.

if you want to RB this and put you age / locale / whatever else you think is relevant in the tags, that'd be very cool