When encountering someone stuck in an Apology Loop, I do not uselessly ask, or worse, demand that they “stop apologizing.”
Rather, I have found it much more useful to affect a theatrical tone and formally “absolve” them. “Like a Renaissance pope, I absolve you, my child.” Usually the combination of having the absurdity of the situation highlit, combined with a touch of physiological release if I can get a laugh, is enough to soothe their nerves a bit and get them to break the loop. And who knows maybe they feel absolved I dunno I have an authoritative bearing
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.”
Psalters: Not even once.
Quick sketch of Merlin in Disney's Sword in The Stone style! Haven't done any other styles in a while this was so fun
4x06 || 5x05
Constantly obsessed with the concept of a man forced to be a myth. What do you do when every step you take is embedded into the text. Every word you say prose to read. You're part of something bigger than yourself. The narrative tugs you along like water currents. There is no time to rest, to be human. You must be great, you must be legend
I'd loveee a fantasy setting where healing magic is unstable!!!
Archer missing shots because their finger calluses are gone.
Warrior struggling to intimidate the enemy because their hoarse voice was made softer.
Mage with fresh eyesight blinded by their own spells.
Unable to remove enchanted piercing jewellery because the piercing holes aren't there anymore.
Magical tattoos dripping off the skin.
Sensory overload from better hearing, eyesight, smell, touch, and taste.
i recently became possessed with the idea of a merlin series rewrite that would follow more closely the legends in some aspects. i'm not exactly sure how one would pull it off but i already ordered a copy of le morte d'arthur to refresh my memory
something something uther dies from an illness while arthur is still a child and how that's gonna affect things?
but, i still want merlin and arthur to be the same age
so balinor is gonna take on the role in events that occurred pre arthur's birth where merlin's figure was involved?
i really love-hate the story about ygraine in the legend. adds so much trashinnes to uthers character. so fitting.
uther literally got hots for a married woman, got pissy offended when she left in the night because of his creepy behaviour and waged war against her husband because of that.
and than he impersonated her husband and slept with her. which is really SA. and then when her husband died, in that same war, he was like "well guess you'll now have to marry me". what a disgusting creature.
i can go on and on
Day 1
Dear Hunith,
your son has safely reached Camelot, which I think is most unfortunate. I am plagued with questions over your reasoning for sending him here. He's betrayed his secret with me five seconds through the door of my apartments; had there been a patient there, I would be writing you for arrangements for his remains. He also seems, from bits of our conversation, unaware of his father's identity but that seems too odd to be true to me, considering you of all people should know very well what sleeps underneath the castle.
I shall try to keep his as safe as possible, but please, call him back home. My heart could hardly take much more of this,
Gaius
Day 2
Dear Hunith,
Your menace of a son is in jail.
due to personal reasons, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
She/Her | 31 | Herbal Tea EnthusiastInterested in: hurt/comfort, fairytale retellings and folkloreCurrently down an Arthurian rabbitholeLeMightyWorrier on Ao3
296 posts