#also: i don’t actually know how old merlin is.. this is me interpreting him as ~19 and arthur as ~21. if i’m wrong please don’t come at me 😔 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mira-nicodiangelo-grey · 1 year

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I posted 3,570 times in 2022

That's 1,083 more posts than 2021!

44 posts created (1%)

3,526 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@congolife

@yonemurishiroku

@juilletdeux

@inthetags

@rowanrowland

I tagged 3,423 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#art - 900 posts

#nico di angelo - 567 posts

#artists on tumblr - 552 posts

#uquiz - 448 posts

#beautiful - 340 posts

#jason grace - 328 posts

#lil cuties - 292 posts

#bwahahahhahahaha - 281 posts

#jasico - 252 posts

#bwahahahaha - 246 posts

Longest Tag: 141 characters

#also: i don’t actually know how old merlin is.. this is me interpreting him as ~19 and arthur as ~21. if i’m wrong please don’t come at me 😔

My Top Posts in 2022:

write me your words of wonder

you want to be thought of with intent, for someone to sit down and want to share their thoughts with you specifically. and their thoughts about you, even more. for someone to Know you, or at least desire the knowledge. for them to write it out in a way that you can read as quickly or slowly as you desire. that you can reread again and again, or lock in a box and never read after that first quick consumption. you crave that tangibility. and the small moments that lead up to the letter being in your hand. to be told, 'it's in the mail' and then to have the simple joy of checking the mailbox to see if it has come today. to hold the envelope and feel the love within. there is a purpose of intent within physically written words, and it patches the parts of you that feel like you aren't worth thinking about. my darling, know that you are. you are worth intentional thought and cursive letters and an envelope sealed with a kiss.

4 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

WITCH Season 2 - Nerissa’s revenge Rewrite

So this is a continuation of how CHYKN’s characterization is different from comics to tv show. And I fell into a tangent about how I’d change the tv show if I got to reboot WITCH. I don’t have ideas for Season 1 yet but I have stuff for season 2.

I am starting to think they tried to fit way too much in season two which is why it flopped but I get it. They wanted to make an action packed season like the first one but also darker. I can think of ideas on how to pay homage to the ex guardians and giving each a nice story to get to know their characters better. It would have been nice to have an episode or two that focused on the five of them and their stories. Perhaps seeing them in school, how they learned of their destiny and how they worked together as a team. It would also be nice to have like hints in the background like how they do in the Owl House. Eventually we could get to the tragedy and the falling out. In the end of the two parter, we’d see how the remaining three decided to remain friends but to distance from each other, a big mistake they didn’t realize until Nerissa came back and corrupted each of them. We could combine elements from the Tv show and the comics. Season two would obviously focus on trauma. The WITCH girls but their stuff would be paralleled by CHYKN’s story. We’d learn about the old guardians and have the new ones learn from the old ones’ mistakes which is what the comics emphasized.

Kadma and Halinor are the couple of the group. Cassidy and Nerissa were star crossed lovers doomed from the beginning but Kalinor were the envy of all of Sheffield. And it’s 2022 so we want healthy wlw representation up in here. These two are all about battling the patriarchy and its backwards, archaic, hypocritic rules. They could be the foundation of the group. They knew and loved each since elementary when Kadma first moved to Heatherfield. Then they met Nerissa, a queer baby they had to take under their wing and the adorable Cassidy who easily melted their hearts and soundly absorbed her into their group. Yan Lin was the final addition to the team and they all loved her greatly as their newest sister. Kadma had reservations about becoming a guardian but it’s Halinor who convinced her how much good they could with this opportunity beyond just Earth. The Guardians have more than often been a group of magical women doing good across the infinite dimensions, how could Halinor say no to that. While growing up, they’d start the Rising Star Foundation. The two were guardians and life partners. No one could really pull them apart. They were Earth and Fire melded together. Nothing was more precious to them than each other. Nothing but their fellow guardians. They were all so incredibly close in a way only other guardian groups could understand. Which is why the tragedy with Nerissa and Cassidy shook their couple hard. Without their heart, even the foundation crumbled. Yan Lin was all about harmony and she desperately wanted to keep that but Kalinin began drifting apart but that was in vain. They just didn’t work as cohesively as a trio. They stood together for many things starting with denouncing the oracle but things just weren’t the same anymore. Kadma began hardened and dispassioned about magic and Halinor no longer recognized the women she once loved and stopped believing in Kadma. The final straw that promptly led to their breakup was Kadma taking up the crown of Zamballah. They were going to leave the whole magical business behind and Kadma takes this up? Halinor and Yan Lin end up becoming a duo for a few more years until they both decide it’s time to end their guardianship. Yan Lin stays in Heatherfield while Halinor moves away. Kadma visits her old friends but quite rarely. And Halinor and Yan Lin are called from time to time to Kandrakar to discuss certain issues. Halinor May still have reservations but she still recognizes the good and honor Kandrakar does, even years after she spoke out against the oracle. I won’t write everything I have planned for season two here but I know I still want Nerissa to come after her old friends and collect them for her team of guardians to take over the magical universe. Nerissa would want to capture Cassidy’s soul first. But when couldn’t corrupt her soul, she let her go and created an Altermere that got to live and love for a bit while she collected the others. I imagine she’d attack Halinor and Kadma together. She’ll threaten Zamballa and make a show of it on Kandrakar. Halinor would be the first to fall into Nerissa’s corruption and this is how she gets revealed as a threat. Next up, Zamballa where Nerissa still preys upon Kadma’s inflated arrogance from years untreated grief and trauma. She could have used her love for Halinor but she knew without Halinor to balance her out, Kadma is practically defenseless. Next she goes to Yan Lin. Yan Lin was known for her strength of character too. Nerissa couldn’t corrupt her either and was forced to build a second altermere. This use of flagrant use of magic to copy a life distabilizes Nerissa further. Then easily she corrupts Cassidy’s altermere.

The team’s all back together and with double WITCH’s power. But in time, Irma wakes them up from Nerissa’s thrall and more in fighting begins with the five of them. It seems like Nerissa is about to lose when she absorbs all four of her friends into Meridian’s heart and gains all of their powers. She continues to build an army against Kandrakar when Will remembers she wants the heart of Kandrakar specifically. The girls have managed to delay her takeover but for how long. In the current circumstances, it’s best to just give Nerissa the heart and she gives up the heart of Zamballa. That’s where real Cassidy steps in with her copy of the heart, her Star. This gives the girls the power to return to Kandrakar and fight Nerissa. Nerissa brings terror and nightmare to the temple like in the comics but what she didn’t count on was the heart of meridian cracking and the ex guardians + real Yan Lin and Elyon escape (yes she was trapped in there too like in the show). This makes Nerissa susceptible to the Terrors she unleashed on everyone too. During the nightmare sequences she gave everyone, we get to see what unknown forces pushed Nerissa to evil and we get to understand her personal traumas better. In this sequence the old and new guardians come together to fight Nerissa and her goons. The new guardians are fighting to defeat her, the old ones are fighting to possibly heal their old friend. They nearly succeed when altermere Cassidy gets killed. This awakens Nerissa’s heart and her evil side gets detached from her long enough for the new guardians to destroy Nerissa for good. Real Cassidy appears and absorbs altermere Cassidy which allows her to linger just a bit longer in the real world. The dreamscape ends and everyone is back in the temple. The old guardians gather around a dying Nerissa who’s back to the self before she was corrupted. She acknowledges the horrors she unleashed upon the world and apologizes for destroying their group, saying she let her heart decay since childhood.Cassidy mentions the two of them were opposites on the good and evil scales and purely existed to balance each other. Kadma asks where did she hear that, the oracle? No Cassidy learned that in death. She helps her friends see that their story, albeit tragic and painful made way to a beautiful future and to an even more powerful group of guardians. Had they not been, A darkness would have led to the fall of kandrakar and WITCH would not have existed. Cassidy urges Kadma and Halinor to make up, because they still love each other dearly. Nerissa couldn’t have corrupted either if they weren’t each other’s greatness strength and weakness. Cassidy can’t linger much longer but she smiles brightly telling her friends she’s missed them all greatly, and while she’s ecstatic Nerissa will be joining her, she will wait patiently for the remaining three to cross over. Nerissa finds it beautiful that she gets to end her life with the people dearest to her heart in their most beautiful selves, exactly how she held them in her memory. The five ex guardians hug one last time uttering a saying they hold dearly to their hearts (like an inside joke). Their trauma may not be completely healed, but at least it’s not unbearable to think about anymore.

By the end of the season, Cassidy and Nerissa remain blissful in death, Yan Lin is still living her life with her granddaughter and new guardians in Heatherfield while also making plans to join Kandrakar, and Halinor and Kadma are back together, living in Fadden Hills as advisors to Rising Star but also coming to Heatherfield to visit Yan Lin from time to time.

4 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

THEY ARE BACK FOR A BIT, LIVE AT HAMPTON COURT PALACE! I AM SO HAPPY.

I am so excited 😆

22 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

SIX THE MUSICAL FILMED!!!

With the original west end cast too. This exactly what I wanted when it involves SIX. I am so happy. I wonder where will the recording be released. Anyways I’m here for it.

31 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Thalia approving Jasico

Since I can’t find it, I’ll rewrite it myself just so I know it’s on my blog. It’s such a good concept: When Jason and Nico got together, you’d think Thalia would give Nico the shovel talk. So it came to everyone’s surprise that it was Jason who got the rough treatment.

Thalia: look here you little shit. This angel has been through so much. He deserves some happiness in his life so if you do anything to break his heart, I will personally escort you to Tartarus and dump you there.

Jason, sweating nervously: You’re MY sister Thals, WTF?

Just more Nico di Angelo Protection Squad shenanigans cause we deserve to see it.

36 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

May 3, 2023 edit: I’ve been fucking looking for this post. Why did it take me this long? The year in review tag didn’t appear when i searched for it.

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #my posts

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shelobussy · 3 years

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Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

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missymallow · 3 years

Text

Drarry: Stake Claim

—-

“Of all the stupid thing you’ve ever done-”

“-for Merlin’s sake, Draco,” sighed Harry, for what it felt like a millionth times. He rubbed his temple gently as he closed his eyes. “At least no one died.”

Harry promptly mentally grimaced as soon as he said those words, as he can literally feel the death glare that was given to him by the furious white-blond haired man that was currently sitting next to him.

“You’re lucky you didn’t end up dead, Potter!” hissed Draco. Harry can definitely hear him rolling his eyes. “Honestly, what are you going to say to your fiancée?”

Harry merely sighed softly because he just knew what Draco would say next. He peeked an eye open and stifled a smile when Draco did just what he had predicted; he shifted on his spot, changing the demeanour of his body to what Harry knew that the other man was trying to copy him, even to the way he was speaking.

“Oh Ginny, I am so sorry but apparently I can’t marry you because I was accidentally married to Malfoy. No! This has nothing to do with Malfoy, it was because I was too stupid to touch a forbidden wedding ring! Is that it?!”

Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“This is a serious matter, Potter!”

He couldn’t avoid the attack when Draco slapped his shoulder, and laughter quickly turned into a groan. “That’s hurtful!”

“Be serious!”

“But I’m Harry!”

A growl. “I swear to Salazar, one more joke about your Godfather and I will-”

“You can’t divorce me, husband.” grinned Harry, “We’re married for life now.”

“Please don’t say that,” sighed Draco, looking too defeated all of a sudden. “Don’t you worry about what will happen if we couldn’t find a way to fix this mess? You don’t want to be bound to me forever, Harry. What would Ginerva feel about this?”

Harry observed the way the other man’s eyes locked to the cursed ring that was firmly coiled around his wedding finger. The gold band that was decorated with ruby stones, looked forbidden yet beautiful around those pale fingers. Unconsciously, his thumb reached out to feel the band that somehow felt heavy around his finger. He didn’t need to look at his finger to know that the ring around his finger matched perfectly with Draco’s.

“Do you regret it?” asked Harry, softly.

“Regret it?” Draco turned to him and scowled. “I just ruined your life, and you asked me if I regret it?”

“You didn’t ruin my life, Draco. I did this remember? You’ve warned me not to get close but I didn’t listen. You’ve warned me not to pick up the ring but I did the exact opposite.”

Draco’s face scrunched in a very unattractive way, bringing his eyes forward just to stare at nothing at particular before he sighed, “I just- I don’t know what to do. I- I always know what I’m going to do but this… it was a very old magic, Harry. Old Pureblood’s traditions to ensure that no separation is going to happen once being tied to one another.”

Harry shrugged, “Well, at least it was me that you’re being tied to, right? I mean, imagine if you’re accidentally married to Robart- for example, you’ll die!”

“Don’t be an imbecile, Harry.” said Draco, but Harry could see the upcoming smile forming around his pinkish lips. “I’d rather died than being married to Robart.”

“Then I am your best choice,” announced Harry, grinning up to Draco in what way he’d hoped will convince the other man. Alas, the furrows between Draco’s brows haven’t lessened.

“You’re engaged, Harry.” said Draco.

“Honestly,” scoffed Harry, getting tired all of a sudden by the worthless conversation. “Even if it was an accidental one, why do you think the curse didn’t reject our marriage? You said I’m engaged. If I truly were, the curse would have rejected it because my feelings were already bound to someone else! You said it yourself, months ago, these types of marriage bonds only worked for people who had feelings for each other!”

The way Draco turned to him so fast was almost alarmingly concerning, but he had paid no attention to that. He’d just hoped that the other man would get the words that he had spoken get into his thick head.

“You’re- what?!”

“I’ve never been engaged to anyone, Draco.” huffed Harry. “That was just media bait and you believed it yourself instead of asking me yourself. That was your own fault.”

He took a side glance to Draco, who had his jaw hung open, staring at Harry in disbelief. After a few moments, Draco seemingly snapped out of himself, and shook his head despite the obvious pinky dust crawling from his face down to his neck. Looked like he managed to interpret Harry’s words.

“But still!” said Draco, albeit too loudly and Harry just had to pursed his lips together in a slight annoyance as he knew the man wanted to have the last words. “This is marriage, Potter!”

“As you said for the hundredth time,” agreed Harry, “But will it change the fact that we’ll stay married forever?”

Draco opened his mouth, before he closed it back with a slumped shoulder. “No.”

“Good,” approved Harry, watching his husband now with amusement as the man tiredly rubbed his eyes, clearly looking worn out with the whole situation. “Come on, newly bonded couples need close contact to satisfy the bond.”

“How do you even know about that?”

“Just because I looked stupid, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” he raised a brow.

“Didn’t say you were stupid.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but beckoned the man closer. “Come on, you’re bond touch deprived.”

Draco scrunched his nose, but slowly moved closer to Harry awkwardly, face dusted with bright pink. Harry grabbed his hands, and guided them to his waist as he circled his arms around Draco’s shoulder, gently palming his head and made them rest against his chest.

“What are we doing?”

“Hugging.”

Draco hummed, making himself comfortable and gave a quiet pleased sigh, “This feels nice.”

Harry chuckled, one hand caressing the soft strands of hairs while the other rubbing his husband’s back gently. He could feel the bond’s magic thrumming around them.

The bond was satisfied.

Harry carefully rested his head against Draco’s, allowing a triumphant smirk decorating his face when he knew the white-blond haired couldn’t see his expression.

Draco doesn’t need to know that the rings were actually just ordinary rings. Draco also doesn’t need to know that there was no Old Pureblood tradition involved.

It was all Harry.

—-

Quite dark, isn’t it? Lol

#harry potter #drarry #draco malfoy #drarry fanfic #draco x harry #drarry fic #harry x draco #harry/draco #drarry squad #marriage #accidental marriage #hp fanfic #gay fanfiction #drarry fandom #drarry feels

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fxndom-hoe · 3 years

Text

So I was reading a ScreenRant article about what BBC Merlin got right about the stories and what it got wrong, but some of their explanations about the show were wrong and it was starting to annoy me. So I decided to hash it out here on tumblr and have my piece. And so that means you all are forced to hear me rant about some dumb article from the internet (or you can ignore me, I’m not the boss of you 😂).

Anyway, here's:

(I’m not gonna go through all the points, just the one’s I feel they got totally wrong.)

(Also, I’m going to try to keep this as unshippy as possible, but my own interpretations of the show are probably going to come out.)

WARNING: MENTION OF R*PE FROM SOURCE MATERIAL. ALSO, SPOILERS!!!

Ok so maybe this is my own opinion (like this whole post is going to be) but Merlin is technically a teacher. Not in the sense that Gaius is, not in the traditional “here, read this book for a lesson” sort of teacher, but he has actively tried to teach Arthur right from wrong during some instances where the royals were being stupid. Especially when Uther was trying to influence Arthur to do something that he thought was right (but since we know Uther, it was usually (always) actually wrong). Merlin was there to tell Arthur that his father was wrong, and in a way, that’s teaching/being a teacher.

Also, Merlin not being a lover is really a matter of opinion. He may not have had many actual romantic relationships canonically, but that isn’t what defines a “ladies man.” He’s attracted lots of women (and women). “Seen as inferior” my ass. In season one, Gwen had a major crush on him. In season five, Merlin had a slight flirtation with Sefa, even if that didn’t really last long. Throughout the series, we see the sexual tension between Merlin and Arthur. And Gwaine fell madly in love with him since they first met. And, of course, there’s Freya, which they already implied. So just because he’s only had one on-screen relationship doesn’t mean he’s not a heartbreaker. Also, he may not have had an actual relationship with Morgana, there’s definitely some kind of tension between them after she turns evil (whether it’s sexual or just them being enemies is up to you).

This may be me being really nitpicky, but the first time we see Excalibur IS 👏 NOT 👏 WITH 👏 FREYA 👏 This is the part that made me want to make this post. MERLIN 👏 DID 👏 NOT 👏 GET 👏 EXCALIBUR 👏 FROM 👏 FREYA 👏 Like, did the writer of this article even watch the show??? The episode where we see Excalibur for the first time is LITERALLY CALLED “EXCALIBUR!!!” And in the episode, it shows Excalibur being made when Kilgharrah BREATHED ON IT!!! Like, I don’t mean to be rude to the author, but you literally just had to watch the show one (1) time to know this. Maybe don’t write an article about a show you’ve never watched?? (Again, I really don’t wanna be rude, but this really rubbed me the wrong way.)

Again, I’m probably nitpicking, but wasn’t that the point of the show? Like, “Here’s the story of King Arthur except Merlin’s a twenty year old twink instead.” ? I mean, this really wasn’t all that big of a deal, but I need content and I had an opinion on this, so I’m sharing it.

I mean, for the most part, this is right. We got the whole love triangle thing going on between these three. We got the tasteless “Lancelot du Lac” episode, which I just... we’re not going to talk about it.

I think we all know, at this point, assuming we’ve all seen the posts talking/complaining about how Gwen was a princess, but instead they made her a servant. Especially because I think in the source material, Gwen was white, and when the show made her black and demoted her to a servant it was racist. Personally (and if this is racist, you guys should call me out on it), I like it because it shows a poor woman of color rising above everyone else and becoming queen, and that’s very badass of her and very empowering for WOC. (I’m not BIPOC so if I’m wrong about this, and anyone who is BIPOC found it offensive that they made Gwen a servant rather than a princess, you have every right to be.)

And now for my complaint: Gwen did actually become an antagonist for a few episodes. I mean, yes, she was technically under Morgana’s spell, so that makes her a victim more than a villain, but the storyline of Dark!Gwen makes her a temporary antagonist. So, article, you are wrong (in a way).

Ok so apparently Uther is just a despicable man no matter what story you try to tell. Just absolutely disgusting. And the fact that in the tales, Merlin actually helps Uther r*pe a woman 🤢🤮 Absolutely disgusting.

But that's not why I’m talking about this part. The reason I bring this up is because if you watched the show, you would know that Nimueh tells Uther that they WERE FRIENDS. She wasn’t just some random sorcerer who he asked to use dark magic. She was his FRIEND who he asked for help when his wife couldn’t conceive. I think it might’ve also been implied that she was Court Sorcerer (but that might’ve just been a headcanon that I read). But either way, Uther didn’t just turn to dark magic to have a child. He asked his friend for help then betrayed her when it backfired on him.

Again, no matter what happened, Uther is just all around a terrible man.

Ok so this part I don't really have a problem with, but I am confused. I haven't read any source material, so I don’t know this for sure, but I thought Arthur did know about Merlin’s magic. Maybe not in all the tales, but is there not a single one where Arthur knows of Merlin’s abilities? Can someone who’s read up on the source material fact check this for me please. Because I thought the whole “magic is illegal so Merlin has to hide from Arthur” thing was made up for the show, but maybe I’m wrong? Someone help please, thank you! 😊

Ooohoohoo! Again, no problem with this specifically, but I am reacting. I always thought that Merlin always played a big role in Arthur’s life (not as best friend like in the show) but like an important advisor. I thought Merlin was more than just someone who played a minor role in Arthur’s life. Like, Merlin is such a big figure in pop culture, I could never even imagine that he wasn’t that important in Arthur’s life. Is he more important in the stories than he is to Arthur himself? Is that it? How does that work? I think it might be because I’m a huge Merthur shipper (yes, I know I said I wouldn’t bring ships into this, but I had to for this one), but I really can’t imagine Merlin not being important to Arthur. I mean, I watched this three hour long movie called Merlin starring Sam Neill, and if I’m remembering that correctly, didn’t Merlin raise Arthur? I can’t really remember, but this just feels so wrong to me.

So that's the end of the screenshots, but I do want to mention that the article (which I’ll be linking in the source) talked about how a difference between the story and the show is that in the story, Merlin doesn’t have a family, and just... HOW SAD??? That is so heartbreaking, and maybe that’s just me imagining the show’s Merlin, our sweet boy who cares about family so fucking much, without a family, and that just makes me sad. But is that true, though? Does the Merlin in the King Arthur tales NOT HAVE A FAMILY??? OOOOOFFF! That’s fuckin rough.

All right, so this is the end, but if any of you have opinions on the article or on my own opinions, I’d love to hear them. Thanks to anyone who actually read this whole thing. It was kind of long and pointless, but some of what was mentioned brought out such STRONG EMOTIONS from me, I just had to share.

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lupinsx · 4 years

Text

Jealousy

masterlist

Request: Could you do a draco x reader wherein she’s a close friend in their slytherin group (since she’s in slytherin + pure blood) but then she starts talking and getting close to Cedric which makes Draco super jealous but the only reason why she’s close with Cedric now is because she needs advice from him in order to confess her feelings for draco

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: While Y/N seeks advice from Cedric on how to confess, Draco feels unnerved by their apparent budding romance.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: A frustrating amount of and misunderstandings (plus a kiss at the end).

a/n — Whew, this was my longest one-shot so far, but also my favourite! I feel like I really outdid myself 😅 The request was so cute, I hope you all enjoy reading this!

tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings

*contact me if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

——————————

Draco Malfoy had always been the one to catch your attention.

Whether it be when you'd both find yourselves in the middle of the Slytherin common room, take a passing glance in the hallway, or even coexist in the Great Hall during mealtimes; he would always reside in the corner of your vision, maintaining permanent tenancy in your thoughts.

It was always the same case. No different after this particular Herbology lecture either.

"Merlin, who decided to make gardening mandatory?" spoke the irritated voice of Theodore Nott. The rest of the group groaned in agreement, the hatred of the class being especially mutual.

You were just dismissed from Herbology, the last class of the day, and was now walking alongside the rest of your Slytherin friends. The group consisted of a handful of fourth years—Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, you, and Draco Malfoy. The six of you became inseparable after mere introductions before the sorting; the friendship is still running strong today.

"Cut it some slack," you drawled with a playful grin. "Having a trivial class amidst our schedule does provide a decent release.”

Letting out a mocking chuckle, Pansy nodded. "That's true. Even an eight-year-old wouldn't find Herbology mentally strenuous. It's just playing with plants.”

"And that's why no right-minded student would willingly choose it if presented the choice," Blaise added with a scowl.

While the group continued to slam the class they were just in, you halted your words upon the sight of a familiar sixth year, head peeking out amongst the crowd of shorter kids. Jogging slightly ahead, you crashed into said student with a bone-crushing hug.

"Cedric!" you exclaimed with a relieving smile. He returned the hug with an arm lazily draped across your upper back, inciting a subtle response from a boy standing nearby.

Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of Cedric Diggory. Lately, he seemed to be the only person you associate with outside of the group. Unfortunately, you being friendly with certain males was a recipe for a jealous Draco. And Cedric most definitely counted as one of those males.

"Hey kiddo," Cedric replied, ruffling your hair with his free hand before pulling away from the embrace. A faint gag-like noise can be heard from the group, though it ultimately went unnoticed by you.

Lowering your voice to a level audible only to Cedric, you hissed, "I need to talk to you."

"Of course," he mumbled in response before looking to the group of Slytherins with a sheepish grin. Before speaking, Cedric slung an arm over your shoulder.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I steal Y/N for a moment?"

With a harsh sneer, Draco crossed his arms and diverted his eyes from the pair. "She's all yours."

The hasty response enkindled a sense of dejection in your heart. He seemed far too eager to get rid of your presence, though you ignored the prospect of this purely being you overthinking.

"Alright then," you said with a slight stammer. Looking to Cedric before heading off, you added, "I'll see you guys later."

Upon the pair's departure, an ill-tempered expression found its way onto Draco's inscrutable countenance. He released his held arms and let out a loud scoff. It was then when the rest of the group took notice of his visible annoyance.

"What's getting you all cross?" Daphne joked as she landed a harsh pat onto Draco's back. "Is it a certain someone? Or certain people?"

A chorus of ooh's followed as Draco turned away in an attempt to conceal his increasingly red face. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his bag strap before addressing the group.

"I'm gonna rest at the dorm," he lied before abruptly taking off, his speed preventing any responses from being made. Rather than heading to the common room, he instead chose to wander around the hallways. Draco needed to clear his head alone, or else his mind would be consumed with the various what-if's appearing whenever you'd leave with Cedric.

Draco was never one to be jealous. He had always been too absorbed in himself to think quite highly of another. It was only until this year when you had become close with one of the esteemed Hogwarts champions that his self-image no longer feels as superlative.

After all, he had always felt prideful of how someone of your intelligence and grandeur paid attention to him. The mere fact that you choose to associate with Draco, even if it's amongst a group, filled him with joy. But when this widely praised Hufflepuff came into the picture, he couldn't help but feel jealous at the thought of someone else making you happy.

He wanted to be the one that makes you laugh. The person responsible for your gleeful expressions and carelessly wide grins.

But how could he when Cedric had now captured your gaze?

Little did Draco know, he couldn't be further from the truth. He had consumed your head to the point of needing a verbal release, and that's exactly why Cedric came into the picture.

"I wish you had seen the way he handled the Mandrake! His face in those earmuffs was too adorable," you cried from within your palms, face buried in it as you swung your legs back and forth.

You were currently in the library, perched on top of a table as you ranted to the boy seated in front of you. The topic at hand was the usual one, being Draco Malfoy and how utterly amazing he is to you.

“I can imagine,” Cedric replied in a sarcastic tone, chuckling at your love-struck nature.

You lightly slapped his arm. “Don’t make fun of me! You don’t know how hard it is to pay attention in class when he is sitting five feet away.”

“But are you ever gonna tell him that?”

“That won’t be necessary.” You were quick to reject his proposal. It wasn’t the first time Cedric suggested coming clean to Draco about your feelings for him, but it certainly won’t be the last you turn it down simply out of fear. Only if you deem a positive reaction at least 70% likely you will attempt a confession, but until then, you were content with concealing your true thoughts.

Unfortunately, your hasty response caught the attention of Madam Pince, who glared at you two disapprovingly. “Silence. The library is not a place for conversation.”

With a sheepish look, you both stood up to leave. “Sorry, Madam Pince.”

Exiting the library, you and Cedric simply ambled along the deserted corridor, conversing mindlessly about Draco’s soft hair and the Triwizard Tournament. Somewhere along, the Yule Ball was brought up, inciting a small blush on your cheeks.

“You’re gonna ask Draco, right?” Cedric asked with an enthusiastic tone, giving a playful nudge. You offered merely a tentative shrug in response.

“I really want to but... what if he doesn’t agree? What if someone else already asked and he said yes? Or what if he’s waiting for someone else to ask—”

Putting a finger to your lips to halt your words, he gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Don’t overthink it, he’d be an idiot to say no to you.”

His words proved to be only slightly comforting as you stammered, “But there are too many factors involved; I’m just not ready! How would I even ask him to the ball? How would I know what to say?”

“With practice, of course.”

Cedric grabbed your arms, repositioning your body to face him in the middle of the hallway. He then released your frame and clasped his hands. “There. Pretend I’m Draco. Now tell me how you feel and ask me to the Yule Ball.”

You glanced at him hesitantly for a moment but then eased up after he flashed you a wide grin. “Alright. So uh, hello Draco. I have something to say to you.”

Without you two knowing, the real Draco had just turned the corner, entering the hallway in which you two occupied. Upon seeing the tense atmosphere, he merely stood back, subtly hiding behind the wall in curiosity of what’s being said.

“Yes, Y/N?”

With one large intake of air, you spoke quickly before your mind could second-guess the words being said. “I like you. A lot.”

While Cedric smiled proudly at your confidence, Draco froze in his position. He had always suspected your feelings for the Hogwarts champion, but for you to boldly confess was beyond his predictions. He couldn’t ignore the pangs in his chest following his what-if’s being confirmed right in front of his eyes.

Cedric wanted you to feel assured with what you’re doing, so without any hesitancy, he played along. “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

Strangely enough, despite knowing this was a fake confession, you felt mildly relieved. Almost ready for the actual confession with Draco. With a small smile, you continued the practice. “On that note, I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me to the Yule Ball? I mean, it’s alright if you say no—”

Cedric grabbed your wrist, interrupting you with an encouraging grin. “It’s alright. Yes, I’ll go with you.”

You nearly leaped into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” you mumbled under your breath, referring to his help in building up your courage. However, it wasn’t interpreted similarly with the boy spying nearby.

Draco’s breath was hitched in his throat as he watched the encounter. His heart only seemed to drop lower with every word, officially crashing upon sight of the intimacy at the end. Of course, he thought to himself in despondency. Of course, she picks him.

He clenched his fist, jealousy coursing through his veins. In an attempt to shield himself from further pain, he walked away, mind and legs set on getting out of the castle immediately.

Though amidst his internal agony, he forgot one small detail; you and Cedric stood merely a few feet away. Draco was quick to realize when he accidentally walked past you two conspicuously.

“Oh, Draco?”

The said boy paused in his steps, cringing at his own dull-witted mistake. Turning on his heel, he flashed a fake smile towards you two.

“Hey,” Draco drawled in an awkward tone, eyes moving anywhere but where you stood. While you appeared positively delighted by his presence, Cedric merely scrutinized his countenance.

“Where are you headed?” you asked, feigning nonchalance to mask your flustered state. However, Draco’s uninterested look and dull tone threw you off.

“Dorms,” he simply replied.

You frowned at his indifference, though tried to brush it off in an attempt to recall Cedric’s words. He had told you not to overthink things, so you weren’t planning on doing so. “Great! I was gonna go there too, wanna walk together?”

It was a bold move on your part. You almost never approached Draco outside of a group setting, so the gesture earned a surprised but pleased glance from your friend. Draco scowled at the sight of Cedric eyeing you, finding his anger rising to the surface once more.

“Actually, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” And with that, Draco left in hasty steps. He needed to properly clear his head. The first attempt ultimately failed, aiding in his budding jealousy, but another try must be made in order for him to sleep that night without drowning in thoughts of inflicting pain on that Cedric Diggory.

As you watched your longtime crush curve your suggestion with a great deal of speed, you felt the small bit of courage gained crumble down inside you, leaving only a lump of misery residing where the hope had previously been.

“Y/N—” Cedric’s attempt at comforting you was cut short when you immediately turned away, trying to reach your room before you could burst into tears. While he watched your slouched figure make its way towards the Slytherin common room, he couldn’t help but dwell over a particular observation, inciting hope inside him for his dejected friend.

Was that jealousy I saw on Draco?

~~~

The next day, you found yourself indifferent towards the previous night's events. You chose to accept the supposed truth of Draco simply not being into you. Being friends with him was enough, you would tell yourself. As long as you get to see him every day, admiring in secret was enough.

“I wanna go to bed already,” you heard Pansy whine amongst the various other noises filling the Great Hall. Breakfast was nearly over, and the group was just finishing up their meals before getting ready for class.

“Doesn’t everyone?” you interjected with a small chuckle, scarfing down the rest of your toast.

As the six of you prepared to head out at the sound of the bell, a presence made itself known in front of you. They initially went unnoticed, until the absence of chatter and the clearing of a throat brought you back to reality.

Stood in front of the Slytherin Table was Cedric Diggory, his signature smile painted onto his face as he clutched his bag strap. His appearance in this area of the dining hall earned him some contemptuous glares from the Slytherins, though you disregarded their looks as you offered a brief side hug.

“Cedric? Don’t you have class?” you asked, curious at his sudden arrival. Ensuring a particular platinum-haired boy was watching, he wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you closer to him.

“Play along, I’m doing this for you,” he hastily whispered, leaning down to speak in your ear. He then pulled his face back before speaking in a tone audible for the group nearby. “Is it bad that I wanted to see you once more? Let me walk you to class.”

You both internally cringed at his loving tone, but a stronger reaction was visible with Draco instead. He was quick to step forward and interrupt the moment.

“Actually, I was going to take her.”

While your eyes widened in surprise, Cedric merely smirked and took a step back. “Well then, I wouldn’t want to steal her away,” he said before heading to the Hufflepuff table, pride laced through his steps. It was at that moment when you understood why he initiated the contact.

That sly bastard.

Before any of Slytherins could follow along, before you could pipe up with an objection, and before Draco can begin questioning where in the hell the sudden confidence came from, he grabbed your wrist and took off. It was an amusing attempt at a romantic stroll, really.

Still, you found yourself blushing like a young schoolgirl. Even if he was practically dragging you down the hall, your rose-coloured lens saw the beauty in such intimacy. If your brain wasn't preoccupied with the reason behind it, you might have been more of a nervous wreck.

For starters, why had he even suggested this? How had Cedric's half-assed attempt at invoking jealousy miraculously work?

You ultimately decided to put aside the questioning thoughts for a moment and savour the physical contact. Draco was beginning to slow his pace to a calming saunter, presumably noticing the speed and manner in which he walked you with. With a subtle gesture, he dropped the hand enclosing your wrist to meet your palm instead, staring off nonchalantly as he did so.

It seemed at that moment, a swarm of bees erupted from the deepest corners of your heart.

Draco felt a similar sensation, being a thousand fireworks going off at once inside of him. Such an insignificant gesture, merely shifting his hand an inch lower to meet yours, yet it meant the world to you both. Embarrassingly enough, neither could remain eye contact throughout the remainder of the stroll.

When the Transfiguration class came into view and Draco stopped in his track, you felt your reverie shatter in an abrupt motion. He glanced towards you, tentatively releasing your grip.

Upon the lack of touch, you found yourself regaining consciousness, consequentially resuming your overthinking. Rather than waiting for him to speak, you chose to assume his negative response and leave to preserve your emotions early.

Thus, without offering another glance, you entered the classroom and strode towards your desk.

Leaving a certain platinum-haired boy behind, wondering what he did wrong to cause such repulsion.

"Settle down, class," spoke the authoritative voice of Professor McGonagall.

Throughout the lesson, you had your mind running in various different directions. Part of you wished to continue swooning over Draco and how he held your hand, while the other part dwelled over his hesitancy at the end, likely meaning he regretted what he had done. It made sense to you that he would.

Meanwhile, Draco felt bad about how quickly you left once he released your hand. Maybe she just wanted Cedric to walk her, he thought to himself sadly. Maybe I was just interfering.

Oh, how thoroughly incorrect they both were.

By the end of class, you wanted to approach the matter one last time and ask Draco whether he truly felt regret rather than bawl over mere possibilities.

As the rest of the class filed out, leaving only you and Draco remaining, you slowly walked up to him. He had his face pointed down as he shoved the books into his bag messily. By the time you had reached close enough to begin speaking, he simply slung his bag over his shoulder and left the classroom with hardly any time to spare.

He just walked off, very much aware of your presence.

And somewhere in Draco's twisted little mind, he thought he was doing the right thing. By evading confrontation, he wouldn't have to hear you openly reject him, and you could be happy with Cedric.

He wouldn't be interfering that way. It was for the best.

Though you both tried to empathize with the situation, neither managed to avoid the tears by the end of the day.

~~~

The last three days had been excruciating for you, mentally and emotionally. You wanted to brush past the incident as you did the day before, but it somehow hurt more this time. You felt mildly confident after the stroll and hand-holding gesture, but him proceeding to ignore you shortly afterwards shattered all remaining bits of hope.

You wanted to get over it. You wanted to get over him. But you didn’t know how.

It was currently late in the evening, and the Slytherin common room appeared to be deserted. You intended to take a minor detour from the dorms, instead seeking your friend in order to clear your head. Swiftly, you made your way down the stairs, checking for any wandering students.

After you deemed it safe to exit, you approached the portrait hole with furtive steps. Though very quickly, you found your inspection to be flawed.

“Y/N?”

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath before glancing up slowly. Your face held a sheepish sort of surprise at the presence of another in the common room.

Once the figure came into view, you were startled by the sight of Draco Malfoy, eye-bags prominent amidst his sickly pale face. You hadn’t seen him often since that lesson. He would rarely attend mealtimes, or appear for five minutes whenever he would. The majority of shared classes he had ditched, miraculously coming down with a cold before each one. The entire group was beginning to feel quite worried—you included.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice small and timid. It no longer held the same imposing and prideful aura you had always admired.

Clearing your throat, you looked to your feet as you spoke. “To see Cedric.”

That line seemed to hit a nerve within Draco, because the moment the name left your lips, his face twisted into a scowl. Upon tilting your head back up, you were met with his ill-tempered expression.

“Draco? What’s the matter?” you stammered. Ignoring your question, he ran his fingers through his hair and tugged on them with frustration. Draco then looked to you with desperation pouring through his silver-tinted eyes.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

You merely stared at him in response, blinking with confusion. As he glanced at you expectantly, you found it hard to produce the words in your throat.

“Well? What is it?” he pressed further, taking a step in your direction before continuing.

“Is it the fact that he’s the esteemed Hogwarts champion? His popularity? His looks? What made you fall for him,” Draco paused for a moment, lowering his voice to a shaky whisper, “and not me?”

You never caught that last part, so instead, you waved your hands to shut down the assumptions. “Me and Cedric, we are just friends—”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Bullshit? How can you be so sure?”

“Because I saw you confess,” he snapped. The area went quiet for a moment, Draco attempting to calm himself back down, while you were left stunned. “And I saw you ask him to the Yule Ball. Friends don’t do that.”

After rummaging your mind for any instance he might be referring to, you suddenly recalled the practice confession a couple of days ago. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots and realize Draco appeared in front of you right after the profession was over.

“Draco, you have the wrong idea. What you heard back there— I wasn’t confessing to him.” Draco held a look of disbelief, which was understandable given what a wild claim it was. It did look exactly what Draco was thinking. You knew the only way to convince him was to divulge what really went down.

“Then what was it?” he prompted with a dry chuckle.

“He was helping me practice what to say to you!”

“Say to me? What do you mean—” Draco paused, his eyes widening upon realizing your words. You took the silence as a gesture to continue.

“Draco, I like you. A lot.”

And once again, the room went quiet. His lips parted, words stuck in the back of his throat. The cherry shade washed over his cheeks went unseen under the dim lighting. You simply stood in front of him, rocking on your heel as you await a reply.

After what felt like an hour of pure silence, you decided to follow through with what was planned days before. With Cedric’s encouragement in mind, you took a deep breath. “And I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Draco’s eyes became impossibly wider, and without uttering a single word, he nodded ever so slightly. The shock was still evident on his face as he did so.

“Actually? You will?” you asked, jubilation apparent in your tone. Until your expression faltered, and you began doubting yourself and his agreement. “Wait, do you truly want to go? You know, you don’t have to agree out of pity—”

Before you could continue rambling on, the soundless boy halted your words with a swift motion, connecting your lips with his.

The abrupt kiss had rendered you frozen, eyes squeezed shut in complete surprise. It was only when you felt his cold fingers brush over the exposed skin on your waist that your nerves sprang back to life, and you began kissing back with equal fervour.

You felt the urgency in the way Draco had kissed you. The desperation, as if the moment he’s let go, you would be with Cedric and he would be crying alone in the common room. He wanted to savour this before it would all come crumbling down, because he genuinely believed that it all would at the end.

Until you pulled away, and expecting the worse, he was met with an airy chuckle erupting from the base of your throat. It was quite possibly the most delightful sound he had ever heard.

“You’d really go with me?” you said under your breath, a wide grin still painted on your face as Draco kept his grip around your waist.

Planting a small peck on your forehead, he reassured, “Of course I will. What more would I ever want?”

The rest of the evening was spent within each other’s grasp, feelings of security and comfort prevalent throughout the tranquil night. Worries from the days before had slipped your minds; all that remained was thoughts of one another.

And nothing else can get in the way.

——————————

a/n — And there you have it! Thanks for reading 💞 Please like, comment, and reblog to show support! Feel free to send requests or feedback in my asks.

#harry potter fanfiction #my prompts #writing #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco one shot #draco imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader imagines #draco x reader #my imagines

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xfandomwritingsx · 4 years

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Hold Your Breath - Chapter One: A Blank Page - Draco Malfoy

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Description: After decisions put you on opposite side of the war, returning to Hogwarts to finish your education proves to be challenging. Maybe closure isn’t the only thing you need from Draco.

Warnings/Labels: Angst. Hints of depression. Unhappy reunions.

Approx. Word Count: 3,000

A/N: I’m trying to keep the reader’s house open for interpretation, but I think it’s pretty plain to see that in my head, she’s a Ravenclaw. I’m also not a fan of this chapter. This is the chapter in which I converted what I had written of the oneshot into a longer piece so there are bits that to me still have a different feel than the rest. Makes it a little choppy when I read it, but hopefully it’s not bad for you!

Story Masterpost

September 1998

The world looks the same as it always has outside of the train window, but it all feels different. Colors still feel muted and even though there’s less chaos raging behind the trees, they still give you an ominous feeling deep in your gut. There are familiar faces on the train, but not enough to make you feel at home. Eyes either avoid yours or stare uncomfortably long. You feel out of place. You’re not supposed to be here.

But, yet, here you are. Your classmates have affectionately dubbed it “The 8th Year” at Hogwarts and even that makes you feel ill-fitting since you didn’t actually attend any of your 7th year so how could it possibly be considered your 8th? You had spent all of last year in hiding, most of which at The Burrow working to gain trust and prove your worth. You’d spent the end of it fighting on the winning side and risking your life for people you once hated.

You don’t belong.

And right now, if you could, you might just get off the train and call it quits on the whole 8th year idea. But you’re already committed now and you refuse to be labeled a quitter. It’s time to move on and build a life for yourself and you know that starts with finishing your education as best you can. So you swallowed the nausea and stayed.

You are one of the last ones off the train partly because you don’t like being in the crowd and partly because you hope it might lessen the stares. Armed with a bag filled almost entirely of long sleeved shirts, you take a deep breath and step onto the platform.

The air is warm, though the threat of colder weather ahead lingers in the air. You yearn for it, having taken a liking to the cold in the last year or so. Trees still hold their color so you suspect you have to wait just a little while for it yet. At least it gives you something to look forward to.

You begin your walk down the platform, feet padding gently along the wood. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One foot in front of the other until they suddenly stop when the sight of Draco exiting the train a few doors down causes your lungs to seize. You’d heard he would be attending so it shouldn’t have stunned you to see him, but it did. You had chosen to ignore the fact that you’d likely run into him, instead choosing to blindly hope you could somehow avoid him all year.

The thinning crowd of people allows you to see him fairly clearly. He’s looks good, well and healthy even. The little boy who broke your heart had grown into a man somehow. Perhaps in the four short months since the end of the war, he had healed. Maybe he was atoning for his wrongs. A softness in your heart grows as you watch him, letting yourself briefly daydream about a happy reunion filled with apologies and hope for the future.

His eyes scan the platform and when they fall on you, your heart speeds up anxiously. His look is not warm or friendly and when you recognize the façade painted on his face, your girlish fantasies are wiped away. He’s nothing more than the same boy he’s always been, playing pretend in a black dress jacket and trousers with a coward’s fear hidden behind his steely eyes.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you, just keeps scanning the platform before adjusting his jacket and continuing on his way. Pushing back the anger you feel starting to bubble, you tighten your grip on your bag and make your way to the carriages by yourself.

~~~

Your memories of him have always come in waves and the last two weeks have been no different as you settled into your new, old routine at school. You can go hours, even days without thinking about him and then out of nowhere, a memory will hit you so strongly that you feel like you’ve entered a pensieve.

Even now, looking at him across the great hall, you can still remember his touch. You can still practically feel his breath on your skin, your nails in his back. It was pain and comfort all in one. You remember how he’d laid his head in your lap afterwards. You still can’t be sure if the wetness left on your thighs was sweat or if he’d cried while he laid with you.

You cringe at how you had so naively thought that was the end of it. You were his salvation and he’d wake up the next morning and run away with you to the other side, to the right side of the war. But those had been foolish, little girl dreams. And you promised yourself after seeing him exit the train that you wouldn’t get involved with Draco Malfoy again.

So why can’t you stop staring at him?

Maybe because he hasn’t so much as acknowledged your existence yet and that, more than anything, pisses you off even if it shouldn’t. Despite your vow to yourself, you crave him talking to you, looking at you, noticing you’re alive for Merlin’s sake! Instead, you feel like you’ve been completely invisible to him. While this clearly made it easier to not get involved, it bothers you. He’s taking away your choice to be rid of him which is just rude.

Fingers snap in front of your face.

“Do you just want to hex him and be done with it?” Ginny asks next to you, a ghost of a smile on her lips. One positive of this year; the voluntary segregation of sitting with your house had been all but completely abandoned, allowing you to sit with the very few friends you have. “You could probably do it with minimal punishment.”

“I don’t want to hex him,” you argue softly, forcing your eyes back down to the plate in front of you. Ginny raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” You let out a huff and poke the food with your fork. “No. Maybe a little bit,” you admit. She nudges your shoulder with her own and sighs sympathetically. Ginny was never someone you thought you’d end up close with, but after staying with her family during the war, she’d become practically like your sister. She’s a better friend than you’d ever had before. Probably better than you deserve too.

“Have you spoken to him?” She keeps her voice quiet amongst the chatter in the hall. You look at her, full of irrational guilt, and shake your head in the smallest fashion you can. “Maybe you should.” You look back to him and remember the way he felt on top of you, whispering your name and the way your legs wrapped around his waist. But then, just as suddenly, you’re hit with the memory of him walking away from you in the middle of the night with a hollowness in your chest.

“I think that’s the last thing I need to do.” You force yourself to stop looking at him throughout the rest of your meal and attempt to join into jovial conversation at the table.

Fate, however, seemed to have heard your words and thusly thrust her middle finger out to you, because Draco is suddenly everywhere. It was inevitable that you run into each other, after all, you had classes together, but he still seems to be within your eyesight an excessive amount; sitting right in front of you during lessons, resting under your favorite tree, always managing to be where you can see his face during meals. Your only reprieve is your common room which you’ve taken to staying in during most of your free time.

Going strictly to and from classes and meals has become tiresome though. You’re starting to feel like you’re back in hiding and can feel a darkness creeping in. You don’t have an abundance of friends at Hogwarts. Or anywhere really. The loneliness threatens to eat away at you sometimes, but you keep it at bay by keeping your nose in your books; a coping skill you’ve become entirely too proficient at executing.

But today you venture out, book in hand, hoping to find a quiet place with a little background noise to read. A change of scenery and a breath of air may help the frayed nerves you haven’t been able to shake these last weeks. Your feet carry you to the library almost without any thought. It had been among one of the first areas rebuilt and reconstructed after the war and though they built it much the same as it had been, it had a distinctively new feel to it.

It’s a bit of a bustle with people, mostly first and second years who think studying is still the most important thing they can do. Idiots, you think. You walk around for a little bit, admiring the fresh wooden tables and shelves, before gravitating towards a back corner. There used to be a couple of chairs in a back row of books by the muggle section that no one ever frequented. With any luck, it might still exist.

Fate smiles down on you, but it’s a wicked smile because yes, your little nook is still there, but so is Draco. He sits in the armchair in plain clothes, an elbow on the armrest, and his face propped up on his fist as he stares down at the book in his lap. His platinum hair falls into his eyes, yet he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He looks so ordinary, like he could be any man in the world and it irks you in a way you can’t put into words. He’s not ordinary. He’s not any man. He’s Draco Malfoy.

You stare long enough for him to sense it and look up from his book. And for what feels like for the first time all year, he looks at you. He freezes for just a moment, as though he’s shocked or perhaps scared at the sight of you. Then in a blink it’s gone, replaced by a softer tone in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, his voice a rush of warm nostalgia. He closes his book. “I can leave.” Even though you’re negatively shaking your head, he gathers the bag at his feet and stands.

“It’s alright,” you try to tell him. “I’ll just go somewhere else.” He’s already standing up in front of you, ready to slink past. There’s an urge to reach out and grab his arm. You repress it.

“No, it’s fine. You like this spot.” He says it so quickly and his eyes flitter to anything but your face as he passes. Before you can try to say anything else, he’s disappeared beyond more shelves of books, completely out of view.

You’re left standing there looking after him feeling entirely unsatisfied and empty with the interaction. You can’t put your finger on or voice what you wanted to happen, but that certainly wasn’t it.

Sighing, you concede to do what you had come for. Even that proves to be too difficult because when you settle into the chair, it’s still soft with his imprint and warm with his body heat. It gives you the barest sensation of having him wrapped around you. It reminisces more than it should of that too-long-hug you shared before he’d kissed you for the first time. The memories washing over you make it too difficult to focus on the words in your book. You snap it shut and leave. The common room is clearly the better place to stay.

~~~

All of your interactions after that are all short and insignificant. He’s always there, but never looks your way. If he does have to speak to you, it’s always in a minimal way. It never fails to leave you frustrated and angry. Even your books aren’t easing your tension like they used to.

It's been nearly a full month now and throwing yourself into your studies hasn’t helped you any either. You’ve practically finished the coursework for half of your classes. Your homework is done well before you wish to go to sleep for the evening. You haven’t set foot outside the castle walls. You have so few friends, no family, and no one who can relate to your troubles. And the one person you’d counted on your whole life, your best friend and the boy you would have done almost anything for, barely even looks at you.

The suffocation of it all comes in the darkness of night. It crushes down on your chest and burns on your arm. Your fucking arm. You’ve scrubbed it. You’ve concealed it. You even went so far as to try to cut the skin off. Nothing works. That skull and snake are with you forever. And everyone knows it.

Some nights you can’t take it. You can’t merely lay in your bed and pretend sleep will come peacefully. So you leave your room. You wander the castle, trying to find those places that bring warmth to your heart and avoid those were people died.

Tonight, you go to the courtyard just to look at the stars. There’s something soulful about the sky. It’s where muggles look to when they pray to a higher power. It holds a universe more expansive than you could ever imagine. It could swallow you whole if you let it or maybe, just maybe one day it will show you how to be happy.

You forcibly don’t recognize that laying in grass and looking up at the sky had been something you and Draco used to do together. It works well enough to let you enjoy the activity again by yourself, but it blinds you to the idea that Draco might be doing the same thing.

You shouldn’t have been so surprised when you reach the courtyard and he’s there, leaning back on the fountain and staring upwards, but you are. When your shoe crunches on the gravel, his head snaps to you and with his own surprise, stands up.

Another short apology. Another move for a quick exit in the opposite direction of you. Your fists clench at your sides, unable to bottle in your anger any longer.

“Oh would you shove off with that?” you snap before he can slip back into the shadows. He turns and raises an eyebrow at you. “I was ready,” you tell him angrily. “I was ready to come back this year and hate you. I was ready to avoid you and shoot you pissed off glares from across the room. Then I get here and you avoid me!” His face puzzles for a moment.

“So you want me to try to talk to you so that you can tell me off?” A little bit of his old self, of the Draco you once knew and loved, comes through in an irritated eye roll. “Sorry to disappoint.” You let out a huff of air and cross your arms.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The puzzled look on his face returns.

“The way you’re reacting right now doesn’t answer that question for you?” He tilts his head and hums mockingly. “Not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Smarter than you are, clearly.” He grinds his jaw at your condescension and then he’s walking up to you, getting closer than he’s been all year and your bravery falters for a moment as your feet step you back and your arms uncross to hang useless by your sides.

“That’s why I haven’t approached you. I don’t need another lecture. I’ve been to trial. I’m on probation. I’ve had everything I’ve ever done wrong put out in front of me in excruciating detail. I don’t need you to give me another run through.” His eyes and his tone are cold, hard. You recognize it all too well and while he’s gotten better at hiding it, you can still see the pain underneath. It tries to soften you, but ultimately fails.

“They shouldn’t have let you come back,” you spit at him, instantly regretting the words when he pulls away. You don’t mean it. Of course you don’t mean it, but you say it with enough venom and hate that he believes it.

“We all made mistakes,” he hisses at you before glancing down to your arm. The heat of his stare practically stings and you have to resist that instinctive pull to hide it away. “I hear you’re the shining example everyone uses to demonstrate that not all bad guys hail from Slytherin, even despite the fact that you changed sides in the end.” The only reason you don’t crack your palm over his cheek is because you give in to the need to hold onto your left forearm tightly, your palm now busy cradling the skull of the Dark Mark underneath your shirt sleeve. “How’s that feel?”

“You’re horrid,” you tell him weakly. He tilts his head again.

“That is what everyone says.” He gives a shrug that tries too hard to be casual and finally steps out of your personal space. With a small shake of his head, he turns to leave again, but you refuse to let him get the last word.

“At least I tried to atone!” you call after him. He pauses, but doesn’t look back. “I did the right thing when it mattered!”

“And where did that get you?” he asks bitterly. “Where did it get your family?” You suck in a harsh breath and try desperately to hold back the tears that are abruptly burning behind your eyes. Dead, you think. It got them killed.

“They made their own choices.” It sounds rehearsed because it is. You told yourself those same words over and over again every night for months. Your parents weren’t good people. You knew that. They were still your parents though and when you heard He’d killed them, it hurt more than you want to admit. And Draco knew that. Draco knows your weaknesses and your soft spots and just how to twist a knife into you. Perhaps that’s why you hated him so much.

“You don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” He still hasn’t even so much as looked over his shoulder back at you.

“Fine,” you answer curtly, your hand still wringing around your forearm. When he leaves, you allow yourself to crumple onto the ground and cry. You feel so much hollower than the last time he’d left you in tears. Back then, the air had practically crackled with tension and death and war. Now the air is silent, calm and that makes it all the more unsettling. All the more finite.

~~~

Thanks for reading darling! If you’ve enjoyed, I ask that you like, comment, reblog, or if you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

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scarletravenswood · 4 years

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Who is John Barleycorn?

Gruesome Origins & Modern Retellings

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I was planning on making a post about the different harvest traditions for the Autumn Equinox, but in the middle of doing research for that I came across a character so crazy and fascinating that I felt the need to devote a whole post to him. So today let’s go down the rabbit hole together to explore the strange tale of John Barleycorn and what it might reveal about our Pagan history. The Autumn Equinox, also known as Mabon, is the second of the three important harvest festivals. Most Pagan harvest festivals embrace the idea of sacrifice, perhaps none more so than Mabon, which is the time when the last sheaf of wheat & barley would be harvested. This notion of Sacrifice is one of the key themes associated with the popular story of John Barleycorn. You may have heard one of the many musical variations of this story or perhaps you're more familiar with the Robert Berns version from 1782. If you haven’t ever heard this English Folk Song, give it a listen The story of John Barleycorn actually has really old origins. There is a Scottish poem with a very similar theme and wording included in the Bannatyne Manuscript of 1568, though it’s likely that John Barleycorn is even older. This is because the Bannatyne Manuscript is a collection of pre-existing works, many coming from the ancient oral tradition. And considering the many pagan themes in the story, it’s definitely possible that the origins lie in Pre-Christian times. Specifically there may even be a link between John Barleycorn and the mythical figure Beowa, which is a figure from Anglo-Saxon paganism whose name means "barley." Now, the prevailing theory is that the tale of John Barleycorn is a symbolic representation of the crop of barley being harvested each autumn. The song describes the process of preparing the land, sowing the seeds, waiting for the crop to grow, and eventually harvesting. Then the song describes making the products of beer and bread which were key staples of the diet of early agrarian people. For the most part this all makes sense but those of you who have read the poem or listened to the song have probably noticed the really gruesome way that this harvest is worded. For example: “They laid him out upon the floor, To work him further woe; And still, as signs of life appear’d, They toss’d him to and fro. They wasted o’er a scorching flame, The marrow of his bones; But a miller us’d him worse of all, For he crush’d him between two stones. And they hae taen his very heart’s blood, And drank it round and round; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound.” Sure, maybe that’s just meant to be a creative interpretation of how to turn barley into beer and perhaps the reason this story has survived so long is in part due to the violent imagery, which makes the story more interesting and memorable. Though perhaps there’s a bit more to the story. I want to share a theory that I recently found that might have some merit. This theory proposes that the tale of John Barleycorn is more than just a metaphor for the barley harvest and that it in fact contains references to real human sacrifices that occurred in Ancient Britain. I know what you’re thinking - pagan human sacrifice is a big trope often used by others to slander paganism. But hear me out for a second because there’s some really interesting passages in this poem that deserve further inspection. The poem begins with: “There were three men come out of the west, their fortunes for to try, And these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn would die” It’s interesting that we start with 3 men coming out of the West. We’re all familiar with the religious importance of the number three. The Celtic triad & triple spiral are of course famous symbols in Celtic paganism. I also think it’s interesting that these men are coming from the West because in Celtic myths coming from “The West” meant coming from the otherworld or realm of the Fae. Also, in the tale of John Barleycorn before the the cutting of the barley there is an interesting passage that states: “They let him stand till midsummer Till he looked both pale and wan, And little Sir John he growed a long beard And so became a man.” Of course the reference to midsummer is interesting from a pagan perspective but I’m even more interested in the “growing a long beard” part. Firstly, I’m not sure how the beard part fits in if this poem is just a metaphor for the barley harvest. Instead, I think it’s possible that it’s referencing the long beards of the druids. The druids believed that our life-force was channeled through the extremities which is why Druid priests would grow their beards and hair long. So perhaps our John Barleycorn is representing a sacrificial priest. Next in the story we have a death being depicted in the poem, but it’s a three-fold death. The poem states: “They hired men with the scythes so sharp To cut him off at the knee, They rolled him and tied him by the waist, And served him most barbarously. They hired men with the sharp pitchforks Who pricked him to the heart.” The three-fold death is a really common theme in Celtic and Anglo-Saxon folklore. Even Merlin in the Arthurian legends prophesied a three-fold death for himself which would occur by falling, stabbing, and then drowning. So already we’ve found references in the passages of John Barleycorn to: - The Celtic triad and the Faerie realm in the west - The spiritual tradition of beard growing among the Druids - The importance of the three-fold death in Celtic lore. So what’s really going on here? In the famous anthropological book called “The Golden Bough” by Sir James Frazer, he states that the Barley King was personified in ancient ritual practice by a real person. This man was honored as a King during the yearly cycle and when it was harvest time he would be sacrificed and dismembered and his body was dragged through the fields to ensure a fertile harvest for next year. This reminds me of a particularly gruesome passage in the poem: “They've wheeled him around and around the field till they've come unto a barn And here they've kept their solemn word concerning Barleycorn They've hired men with the crab tree sticks to split his skin from bone.” If this is just a metaphor for harvesting the barley, then what is the purpose of wheeling him “around and around” the field. Perhaps Sir James Frazer might be right and that this passage could be a reference to the sacrificed individual being dragged through the fields to ensure the fertile harvest. It’s definitely a pretty disturbing visual and I probably should point out that we don’t really have much historical evidence concerning Pagan religious sacrifice. One of the most popular accounts of pagan human sacrifice comes from Julius Caesar during his conquest of Gaul where he reports to have seen the burning alive of victims in a large wooden effigy, which is now known as a wicker man. Though considering the Celts were his enemy at the time it is possible he exaggerated some details. So, while it’s likely that some human sacrifice occurred among the Celts and Anglo-Saxons we don’t really know too many details and it’s likely that the violence was probably a bit exaggerated. So when it comes to our story of John Barleycorn we have our two main theories: The first theory is that the story of John Barleycorn is just a metaphor of the barley harvest and that any violent wording was just added for extra flair and it doesn’t represent any wider themes. The second theory is that the story of John Barleycorn actually contains references to the practice of religious human sacrifice among the Celtic and the Anglo-Saxon pagans. So which theory is correct? In my opinion I think it might be both. I think the main purpose of the story is to be a metaphor for the autumn barley harvest. Though because this story is in fact really old, I think it picked up some Pagan references, stereotypes, and motifs along the way. But, I’d love to hear what you think the story of John Barleycorn represents. So share your thoughts down below in the comments.

#pagan #Autumn Equinox #traditional witchcraft #druid #english magic #english history #folklore #witches of the world #baby witch #wicca

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the-mother-of-lions · 2 years

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i for one would like the meta on the latin proverbs pls

Say less bestie. Under the cut because its kind of long

You can check out both gifsets here: Part One, Part Two

The first one I had actually picked was Kilgharrahs - tempus rerun imperator - or time is sovereign over all things. I really liked this for Kilgharrah because its just so fitting to me. Kilgharrah is old. When we finally meet him, he's easily thousands of years old and has lived through so much and yet he still remains. Kilgharrah is also a very omnipotent character, he always seems to know what's going on, what's going to happen, even when he might not. Even at the end of the story, Kilgharrah is still alive. He's outlived his kind, the dragonlords, Uther. Everyone except Merlin. In the end, I think this proverb could also be applied to Merlin, but I liked the other one I picked for him better.

Moving on to Merlins - amare et sepere vix deo conceditur - even a god finds it hard to be wise and love at the same time. At the beginning Merlin is tasked with a really heavy responsibility - to guide and protect this guy who has been groomed to hate and despise everything that Merlin is. That in itself if already hard, but later he develops real feelings for Arthur, whether you want to interpret them platonically or romantically.

For my beloved Elyan I chose luctor et emergo - i struggle and i emerge. Of all the knights, I believe that Elyan has led the hardest overall life. He was born a peasant, lost his mother at a young age, has canonically had relationship issues with his father and sister and spent at least four years traveling on his own. He faces a ton of struggle both internally and externally and yet he’s still such a sweet person. He finally emerges from the problems facing him as a knight of Camelot, and more than that, the Queen’s brother and a close personal friend of the king himself. I think of all the knights Elyan did the best for himself and came the furthest.

Morgana - Fléctere si néqueo súperos Acheronta movebo - If I cannot move heaven, I will raise hell. That’s pretty much what she did lmao. My personal opinions aside, Morgana couldn’t achieve her goals the way she wanted and set out to accomplish them in a different way, by literally raising all sorts of hell.

Gaius - concullus non facit monachum - the cowl does not make the monk Regardless of how fandom kind of chooses to see Gaius, he did lead a life during a really precarious and dangerous time. At the end of the day, Gaius survived and did what he thought was best given his options and I respect him for that. I chose this quote because I felt like it fit what we see of Gaius; he dons a lot of hats - advisor, physician, sorcerer, guardian - and yet he’s still more than all those things. He’s still looking out for his own interests at the end of the day. I’m probably interpreting that quote wrong but

Gwaine - bonum non est melius quam pessimus - it is not goodness to be better than the worst. I chose this for Gwaine because I think it ultimately fits the story we see for him. He’s the son of nobility and generally led kind of a nice life up until his father’s death. Which we also never really know when that was, so Gwaine could have led an easy life until shortly before we meet him in canon. Losing his father and being kind of snubbed by whichever king (i don’t remember who and i’m not going to look it up) was a big life lesson and then when he later meets Arthur I think it kind of teaches him that being better than the worst person you know doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re a good person and he has to learn to be good on his own through the example of Merlin.

Percival - audaces fortuna juvat - fortune favors the bold I chose this quote because I really think it depends on how you interpret “favor”. Percival is one of the only core knights to make it to the end, so you could see that as being favored. Time and again Percival survives circumstances that others don’t or that others might not have, which is both good and bad. Percival is bold and brave and I hope the rest of his life was good.

Leon - semper paratus - always ready I chose this for Leon because it just felt right. He’s the First Knight, probably someone Arthur has known for a really long time and he’s just. Always there. Always ready to follow Arthur into whatever mess he’s going for next.

Mordred - aut viam inveniam aut faciam - I’ll either find a way or make one. This was one that I chose because of the ✨vibe✨ It just felt fitting. Mordred always found a way to achieve his ends and when a path was proving fruitless (Arthur), he switched to one that he thought had better odds (Morgana).

Morgause - memento mori - remember you will die This one was the hardest for me. I love this quote though and I really wanted to use it so its just kind of ✨the vibe✨ for her

Uther - damnant quod non intelligunt - they condemn what they do not understand I feel like this one is pretty obvious lmao But its fitting. Uther didn’t understand magic, he didn’t want to understand it, so he condemned it.

Lancelot - exitus acta probat - the end justifies the means To me this is really fitting because Lancelot is so reckless. He’s kind of impulsive and his justification for things is pretty much this lol. Mans was down with forgery to become a knight, he was a cage fighter because it’s really the only thing he knows how to do and then later he helps keep Merlin’s secrets because it’s what he thought was right. I personally think Lancelot could do anything and as long as he got what he wanted in the end, he’d feel it was justified.

Gwen - alis volat proprio - she flies with her own wings Gwen is one of the hardest working characters in this whole show and everything she achieved she did because of her own hands, so that’s why I picked this one for her.

And last but not least,

Arthur - non ducor, duco - I am not led, I lead I felt like this was fitting for him because it’s what he does. He’s the prince, he’s in charge of the knights, he’s the king. We rarely see him relinquish his leadership (which makes sense) and he’s a great leader imo.

Sorry this took so long, I just wanted to be able to sit down and really get all my thoughts out in a cohesive way.

Thanks to everyone that reblogged my posts, I always appreciate it.

If you don’t agree with me then... rip i guess? make your own post lol

Thanks again to theandrogynousdragon for asking! i really wanted to talk about it, so much appreciated for letting me ramble🙏

#bbc merlin #lion speaks #asks #theandrogynousdragon #meta

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oceangenasi · 3 years

Note

D&P and Merther for the shipping ask game???

Yax I would die for you except you’d probably stop me from dying with your EMT wizardry and then where would we be

🖤 D/P 💙

1. What made you ship it? I have eyes? But seriously, I like to joke about how my ships are either softboys and their badass women or queerbait m/m angst.... and then there’s this shining exception. A canon m/m ship that gets a love story and a happy ending :’’’) I started watching the show very casually, knowing David was queer but not that D/P was endgame and then the next thing I knew I had ascended to another plane of existence

2. What are your favorite things about the ship? I am never not thinking about the Dynamic... it’s the complementary aspects of their personalities for me!

You’ve got David: flamboyantly queer and deeply dramatic, who’s had intense emotions his whole life that have scared people away but he’s also brave and unique and creative and wonderful. He’s everything that Patrick didn’t know he needed. He’s been hurt a lot of times and he almost doesn’t believe that he’s capable of being loved so wholly and completely. Enter Patrick.

Patrick is so straight-laced and repressed and invested in being well-liked that he had built up a whole seemingly perfect life that was making him deeply unhappy. I don’t think that even Patrick knew he was capable of loving David the way he does, because he hadn’t cast off his old life and gone on that emotional journey until he met David. His “you make me feel right” speech is my favorite bit of the entire show. Patrick found himself in finding David.

They balance each other: Patrick grounds David, providing him the unconditional love that David can flourish with, and David brings beauty and color into Patrick’s life.

I also adore how much casual intimacy they get on screen, all the kisses and shoulder touches. It’s incredibly healing to watch after so much queer angst and suffering, when we get representation at all.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? Yeah, Patrick’s not perfect. I get very pissy when people trash David for his actions surrounding the barbecue and/or the wedding and imply he was being unfair/selfish -- because even if he was, Patrick has a responsibility to communicate his concerns if he wants David to respond to them. Patrick has a tendency to avoid/repress his feelings and that can be incredibly damaging in a relationship if not addressed. David can’t read Patrick’s mind, nor should he be expected to. He doesn’t need to magically intuit Patrick’s distress from Patrick’s micro-expressions or whatever the fuck -- Patrick needs to step up and tell David when he doesn’t like David’s behavior. Yes, I’m projecting like hell when it comes to this but it is something that made me furious during season 6 and the discourse surrounding it.

------------

💙 Merthur ❤

1. What made you ship it? I watched the first episode and was like “oh wow this show is even gayer than I’d heard it was.” No but seriously... fellas, is it gay to be literally and canonically someone’s other half? Fellas, is it gay to stare intensely into each other’s eyes at every given opportunity? Fellas, it is gay to dedicate your entire life to serving and protecting someone? Fellas, is it--

2. What are your favorite things about the ship? ah jeez where do I even start... Arthur is Merlin’s whole world. Merlin’s magic is “only for Arthur” and Merlin’s magic is... everything he is. I literally don’t know how you could read that as Merlin not being in love with Arthur. I genuinely and honestly think this interpretation is backed up by commentary by the actors and writers: Merlin loves Arthur, and that’s not even a point of debate. I adore Merlin as a character (son boy baby sweetheart sunshine child) and his unwavering faith in Arthur, his dedication, his tenderness, the years spent protecting someone who didn’t even know how much Merlin had done for him.... it gets me good.

And then there’s what Merlin is to Arthur! Setting aside the stuff Arthur doesn’t know about, which I will talk about in a moment, Merlin is possibly the only person in Arthur’s life who has always, always treated him as a person first and a prince second. Merlin’s unwavering faith and freely given friendship are because he sees the best in Arthur, not because of Arthur’s hereditary right to the throne. Merlin is Arthur’s first and truest friend -- I know the knights and Gwen care for him, but there is a component of social discrepancy to their relationship that Merlin simply has ignored. Merlin’s disrespect is because he fundamentally views Arthur as his equal, which is a gift Arthur didn’t even know he needed. Arthur was touch-starved, emotionally repressed, and incredibly lonely before Merlin came into his life. (Yes, the similarities between my two OTPs are well-known to me.) Just because Arthur struggles to express his emotions (thanks, Uther) and doesn’t have the same plot opportunities as Merlin to show how much he’d sacrifice for Merlin, doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Merlin as deeply as Merlin does him. This is why I like writing Arthur POV so much -- I like describing how fundamental and immutable a concept Merlin is to him. He takes Merlin for granted, yes, because there is literally nobody else that he is so vulnerable around or trusts so completely. This is why the magic reveal was so temporarily devastating to Arthur -- it broke something he’d built his entire life around. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Canon is a trash fire and I hate a lot of things about season 5, because it had some stellar opportunities that got rushed and squished by the way they timed the plot.... but I actually really, really like the finale. I think that considering what they’d done with the plot up to that point, it was brilliantly executed and gorgeously acted. There wasn’t enough time to do everything I would have liked with the magic reveal*, but in the last episode they hit every one of my buttons at least once. Arthur witnessing a competent Merlin, Arthur experiencing realistic grief and anger but being able to see how deeply Merlin loves him... Setting aside the plotholes and the timing, the people who made the show realized what was critically important in the finale, and it was digging deep into the relationship between Merlin and Arthur. This is why it completely and totally wrecks me, incidentally, and why I can’t watch the last part of the episode because it actually unhinges me too much. I’m not joking, I went into some kind of grief spiral the first time I saw it that took me a literal week to recover from. I care about things too much and feel my feelings too intensely, but we been knew.

Oh, and an even spicier opinion on later seasons/the finale: I don’t think that Morgana “isn’t really evil” or that her fall was “unnecessary.” I think that Morgana was indeed capable of being a fiercely good and loving person, but I also think that people with the kind of anger she carries can be dragged into some very dark places. I don’t think it was unrealistic, I think it was painful to watch, and there’s a difference. She didn’t get the support she needed -- she was gaslighted, manipulated, and tortured -- and I think that the same person who could be good in another situation is absolutely capable of becoming monstrous, considering the hand she was dealt. I have very similar opinions on her as I do on Anakin Skywalker, which is to say: her evil was both believable and tragic. She was a product of her circumstances, but her actions are not excusable, and she is responsible for how she responded to her trauma.

*I can and will read every damn magic reveal on ao3 because it’s really important to me that Arthur understand what Merlin has done for him. Truly, truly conceptualizes how crucial Merlin has been in helping him build his kingdom. That’s the one thing that I wanted to see so badly that never happened in canon.

#tangled pixel harpsichord #answered #oh god oh jesus I've written a pair of essays here #if anyone actually reads this entire thing I will propose marriage to you on the spot #bbc merlin #sc #schitt's creek #merthur #david/patrick

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rachel-matteo-merlin-recs · 3 years

Text

Canon Era - Single Fic Arcs

Rheged

Author: McShame

Description:

Post S5 (AU): canon to the end of S4 & part of the way through S5.

Gwen and Arthur have been married for several years, Merlin’s magic has been revealed and Arthur has now reached a kind of cold peace with it. Then a delegation arrives from a kingdom based on magic, and suddenly Destiny is starkly and ruthlessly thrust to the fore. The question is should - can - it be avoided?

Word Count: 124,383

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Definitely might want to pay attention to the tags on this one; one scene can be interpreted both as dubious consent (but more like a I want this, but I can’t do this type of situation), as well as mentions of infidelity and attempted suicide by magic because Merlin just doesn’t want to deal with the fallout and aftermath of his and Arthur’s actions and the consequences it has on their relationships with Gwen and Gwaine. But if you can handle the rough spots, this fic is truly spectacular.

Whispering Your Name

Author: CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Description:

A different take on the dorocha. Instead of them being faceless screams that attack you, they are actually figures of the dead. Merlin doesn’t quite realize how much death affected him until him and the knights go to close the veil.

Word Count: 22,517

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of my absolute favorite fics of all time. It also has a bit of Uther redemption in it and Lancelot lives! It also has one of my favorite interactions in a fanfiction:

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arthur growled, throwing up his hands. “That thing murdered my people and you allowed it to live--”

“You murdered my people and I allowed you to live,” Merlin said sharply. Gwaine felt his eyes widen. Bold words. Part of him wanted to ‘ooh’ at it but knew it would lead to a very bad outcome.

Dower the Stars

Author: RurouniHime

Description:

During a time of great prosperity in Albion, the Druids offer Emrys a precious gift. Arthur is not amused.

Word Count: 40,654

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

A super fun but also very romantic fic. Druids far and wide come in and kiss Merlin, hoping that their magic will react a certain way with Merlin’s and he’ll bond with one of them. Merlin however decides to throw a wrench in his plan when he chooses to bond with Arthur instead after almost losing him.

Overstepping

Author: Masked_Mayhem

Description:

Merlin knew he was pushing his limits, that he was millimetres away from overstepping the invisible line that Arthur had wordlessly set and the warlock had been careful not to cross, but he was never one to listen to the rules that were set for him. Especially not when he was afraid.

Agravaine had managed to weasel his way into his king’s mind and ingrain doubts in the people he loved, the people that loved him...doubts that only took place and bloomed as the traitor lied and deceived and planted things against them. He had gotten rid of Gwen easily enough, and had almost gotten rid of Gaius. Merlin was afraid. Were a few words and items all it would take for Arthur to turn against him too?

Word Count: 51,915

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin steps over a line and Arthur punishes him for it. Later, when Merlin was right, Arthur regrets his decision and saves him. Romance blooms between the two, but a wrench gets thrown in along the way with the reveal of Merlin’s magic and deeds in Arthur’s name. There is a lot of angst, but I like to feel as if it’s a happy ending for the two.

Springes to Catch Woodcocks

Author: myashke

Description:

When Arthur pushes Merlin away to protect him, what lengths will Merlin go to remain in his life

Word Count: 83,292

Completed: No

Comment(s):

Unfortunately the only negative that this fic has going for it is that it doesn’t seem as if it’ll ever be finished. There are 7 chapters and they were last updated in December of 2011. Still worth the read.

Two Souls

Author: Naelyn

Description:

A few days after Camlann, Merlin and Morgana find themselves imprisoned in the same place, and forced to spend their days together. Basically, this is just a pretext for non-stop Merlin and Morgana interaction once the Emrys reveal has been made.

“I’ve gone soft over the day, you know. A few months ago, I would have killed you where you stood.”

“A few months ago, you did try to kill me where I stood,” Merlin reminded her, and she could hear the smirk in his tone.

Word Count: 11,417

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of the only fics on this list that won’t be specifically a Merthur fic; but it still isn’t Mergana either. The idea is that after the revelation at Camlann, one can assume that Arthur lived and that Morgana wasn’t killed; that Merlin had been banished or sent away for the lies he told and somehow was subsequently captured.

What starts out as a hostile interactions between Merlin and Morgana leads to understanding and apologies that lead on a path to healing. The end is left open ended, it’s implied that they are sent to their deaths in another kingdom without hope of being rescued, but you can use your imagination to decide if you wanted them to have a happier ending.

The Patter of Tiny Feet on Cold Stone Floors

Author: TheAvalonian

Description:

When Guinevere finds that she is unable to bear Arthur a child, Merlin offers her the perfect solution: an ancient spell which can create new life out of love, if that love is pure and powerful enough. But after the ritual, it becomes increasingly obvious that while Gwen has indeed become pregnant, the child she carries might not have been created from the love between Arthur and his wife - but rather from the love between Arthur and his Court Sorcerer.

Word Count: 79,131

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin and Arthur have a baby! But it’s not an mpreg fic. Guinevere discovers that Arthur and Merlin are more tied together than she and Arthur are - and while that is difficult for her to come to terms with, she concedes that Arthur has the chance that she never had with Lancelot and doesn’t want to stand in the way. Queue of course evil plotting on behalf of Morgana and a kidnapping of the queen and princess - who happens to have shown gifts of her own - and it’s a rollercoaster of a tale that leaves you wanting more.

Metamorphose

Author: clotpolesonly

Description:

When Merlin falls into bed with Arthur, he doesn’t expect to wake up alone. He doesn’t expect Arthur to give him the cold shoulder either, but there is something else he expects even less which forces him out of the kingdom for over a year.

He returns to find a traitor in the court, an army on the way, and a love he’d thought all but lost waiting for him with open arms.

Word Count: 33,753

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

I don’t usually enjoy mpreg fics because they don’t make sense to me from a biological stand point and usually get explained away as “because reasons”. This fic is an exception, it does a good job of explaining why it is that Merlin might wound up in his situation and it deals with difficult question about how to handle the knowledge and who to share it with.

Flowers in the Wind

Author: the_seaworthy_muffin

Description:

A thousand and five-hundred years ago, Arthur Pendragon is sent to the god Emrys as Camelot’s yearly tribute. He comes to befriend the god, and as the prince continues to spend time on the god’s island, something more seems to blossom between them. But then the Lady Morgana goes missing, and Arthur betrays Emrys to his father in a moment of misguided trust. Emrys’ island burns, the heart-broken god refusing to fight for his life. In dying, he puts a terrible curse upon the prince: to live forever, and never forget.

A millennium and a half has passed. Arthur is being slowly torn apart from the inside-out, memories of the past an ever-growing weight in his chest. When he finally finds Emrys again, he is elated - he’s ready to beg, weep, anything, if only he can find blissful forgetfulness. But while the god’s power has not faded, his memories have, and he lives his life as young artist Merlin Emrys, believing himself to be a simple man with interesting gifts. And Arthur’s hopes are dashed. But there is one last way: Arthur can try, and make Merlin remember again.

Word Count: 67,366

Completed: No - but it is being continuously updated

Comment(s):

This is a truly spectacular work of fiction and I almost didn’t give it a chance. I am so glad that I did. Honestly, this is now one of my favorite authors on AO3.

Peace, Plum, Pear

Author: sweetestdrain

Description:

How in his tenth year of rule King Arthur chose a man to take the role of Court’s Magician, and how Arthur made his decision.

Word Count: 13,700

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin fled the kingdom after Uther found out about his magic, and now it’s been ten years since the old king’s death and Arthur’s ascension to the throne, and yet Merlin is still nowhere to be found.

Arthur gives in and holds trials for the new Court Sorcerer and in walks in an old man named Myrddin Wyllt. But, there’s more than meets the eye to this strange and mysterious magician.

Deluge

Author: Suaine

Description:

In the aftermath of Merlin’s battle against Nimueh, the rain seems a minor complication, perhaps even a cleansing influence. When the rain doesn’t stop, Camelot is pushed to the brink once more. This time, Arthur may be in over his head.

Contains: a lot of wet boys in emotional scenes, Arthur knowing more than he lets on, Merlin being an idiot, both of them being a bit stupidly heroic, telepathic chess, rain (lots of), war, making out against a tree, coincidental druids, co-opted history, co-opted myths, magic, coming of age (metaphorically), and more magically annoying yet surprisingly un-floody water than you can shake a stick at.

Word Count: 50,565

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beautifully written fic, truly a great addition to the fandom.

Idiosyncratic Romance

Author: F0rcryinoutloud

Description:

“And what about your destiny?” Gaius asked softly. “Merlin, you know Arthur needs you - whether he realizes it or not. You won’t have to hide from him forever.”

Word Count: 13,942

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beauty in the Ashes of our Lives

Author: Fulgance

Description:

After Merlin is executed for Uther’s murder, Arthur’s world falls apart.

Word Count: 21,599

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Arthur makes a huge mistake when he executes Merlin following the reveal of his magic.

Tiercel

Author: waldorph

Description:

Arthur is constantly at war.

Word Count: 6,571

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

This is a wonderful magic reveal fic where Merlin goes out and discovers more about magic while still taking care of Arthur and protecting him; Arthur is constantly at war because Uther has decided he wants to take over and unite Albion.

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earth-ambassador-jim · 3 years

Text

Lost Souls: Story 10

The Ones We Hail (part 3)

Lost Souls Summary: Merlin awakens early from his sleep. He decides that he doesn’t want to leaving anything to chance and kidnaps the young James Lake Jr. to began training his Trollhunter as early as possible.

Barbara is determined to hunt down the man who kidnapped her son. In her efforts to get her son back she finds a strange old radio that speaks to her in a woman’s voice. The radio leads her to an underground society of shapeshifters.

Mother and son meet again years later as strangers on opposing sides.

AO3 - Fanfiction

~~~~

“Jim! I’m here!” Kanjigar called out as he entered the cave

There was no response. No patter of small feet.

Kanjigar frowned; usually Jim was all over him by now. Where was the child?

“Jim?” He called again.

Concern began to take root in his chest and the old troll lifted his head and tested the air for the child’s scent. He could smell both Jim’s scent and Merlin’s. They were fairly fresh but…

Kanjigar sniffed again.

There was something unfamiliar in the air. A slight shiver ran through him setting his tusks on edge.

He followed the strange scent through the roughhewn hallways and deeper into Merlin’s abode. What was it? No one could get in here without Merlin’s permission.

The scent led him to Jim’s room. Kanjigar’s whole body was tense. If something had happened to the boy…

His hand wrapped around the amulet where it hung from a chain around his neck. Without a word the armor materialized around him. He didn’t summon Daylight just yet but he kept one hand free as he eased open the door.

The room was empty but the strange scent was fresh.

All Kanjigar’s muscles were tense as he entered. He moved slowly; leaving the door open as a precaution.

His ears were pricked and alert as his eyes swept over the room.

Jim’s toys sat undisturbed on the small shelf he had liberated from the junkyard. The picture book he had borrowed from Blinky was still there.

There was no sign of the boy himself.

His eyes tracked across the room before a small movement drew them.

Curled in the large pile of blankets that served as Jim’s bed was a small blue troll. They were staring at him with wide surprised eyes, both hands slightly raised as if that had been just holding their horns.

His eyes snagged on the hands. The five fingered hands.

Kanjigar’s nostril flared as he took in their scent. It smelled both like troll and human, with a heavy scent of some unidentified potion hanging over it all. More importantly it smelled like Jim.

A changeling.

Kanjigar’s ears went back -a jolt of betrayal stabbing through him like a dagger- He’d been fooled. His ears pressed tighter against his head as his fist clenched. Had he ever met the real Jim or had the impure been pulling his strings the whole time? This was what happened when a Trollhunter let themself get attached.

The low growl that rumbled from his chest caused the imposter to flinch. Its eyes widened further and its ears pressed down.

“Kanji…” It started.

Kanjigar didn’t give it a chance to spin its net of deceit. In a second he lunged forward pinning it to a wall.

The impure shrieked and wailed. It clawed at his hand for a moment before going limp. It shook as big tears dripped down its face. Its eyes looked so much like Jim’s that he felt a pang in his core at the sight. He shook his head and steeled himself; he wouldn’t fall for crocodile tears. Not again.

“How long ago were you planted,” He demanded.

If the changelings had found a way to fool even Merlin, they would be in trouble. If he was being honest part of him hoped that somehow, against all prior knowledge of when the exchange could happen, the changeling was a recent plant and he had actually known the real Jim.

The impure didn’t respond. It just kept whimpering and pressed its eyes closed. It was a very convincing actor. He would give it that.

He opened his mouth and…

“What are you doing?”

Kanjigar startled at Merlin’s harsh tone. He hazarded a glance back at the doorway, careful not to let the changeling completely out of his sight. He looked furious. His brows were drawn together and his eyes flashing.

“I found this changeling in Jim’s room,” Kanjigar reported, switching his gaze back to the creature he had pinned against the wall. “I was trying to find out just how early the exchange happened.”

Behind him Merlin huffed out a sigh.

“Put him down,” The wizard said. “That’s Jim, not an imposter.”

“What? But Master Merlin…”

“Don’t Master Merlin me. Put him down now.”

Puzzled but deferring to the wizards judgement he let the changeling drop. It hit the ground and stayed where it was curling in on itself and shaking. It looked positively frightened. He felt the unwelcome pang of sympathy again.

He shook his head trying to focus and figure out what was going on.

Why would Merlin…

There was no way.

“Did you let that changeling in here?” Kanjigar asked horrified. “You knew the whole time.”

That would explain why the wizard had been so careless with him and expected him to take care of himself. Despite appearances, changelings were not planted until they reached mental adulthood and were capable of fending for themselves.

“What? No,” Merlin looked offended.

“Then…”

“Jim is not a changeling. I would not take one of Morgana’s servants into my house lest I wake up with a knife in my back. I’m not a fool!”

“Then what…”

“Jim was a human but now, thanks to the potion I have been working on since I woke, he is a half-troll.”

Kanjigar blinked unable to quite process that sentence.

“What?” He said dumbly. He had never heard of such a thing.

Merlin sighed.

“Walk with me.”

The wizard turned away. Kanjigar hesitated glancing back toward Jim who was now hiding under the blankets. He half turned toward him before glancing in the direction that Merlin had went in.

There was no saying how long Merlin would stick around but now that he knew that the small troll was actually Jim (Even if he was still struggling to believe it.)… The flash of the boy’s scared eyes, his desperate sobs and Kanjigar, the very troll who he had trusted pinned him to the wall…

Kanjigar’s ears pressed down.

He took a step in the direction of the blankets before stopping.

He should give the boy some time to recover before he approached him. Not only that but he needed answers.

Once they were back in the main room, Kanjigar turned to Merlin. His anger at himself for hurting Jim was mixing with his anger and confusion toward Merlin for… whatever he had done. The turbulent emotions set his tusks on edge. He managed to fight down the snarl that was threatening to crawl up his throat, but his voice still came out more sharp than respectful.

“Why would you do that to Jim? What point is there in turning him into a… a half-troll?”

Humans and trolls were not meant time be mixed; changelings were proof of that. Even if they did not die by the sword or succumb to the webs of their own treachery, the magic that was forced into their stone aged them prematurely. They often suffered joint problems and fatigue as a result of hybridized systems –A weakness Kanjigar had learned to exploit when he came into conflict with them. They were doomed the weaknesses of humanity and trollkind while being rejected by both.

What purpose could Merlin possibly have in inflicting such a fate on such an innocent young child?

He drew himself to his full height ready to stare the wizard down until he got answers. Merlin eyed him through his thick brows.

“Because he will be the next Trollhunter,” He said.

Kanjigar stilled.

“What?”

In his shock it felt as if he had taken a step back out of his own body.

If Jim was going to be the next Trollhunter that meant…

Merlin sighed, looking slightly regretful.

“Yes, according to what I saw studying the future, you’re destined to die in the next decade or two and the Amulet will choose James when you’re gone.”

The first thing Kanjigar’s mind latched onto was just how soon that was. A couple decades was hardly the blink of an eye… The next was…

“But he’s just a child…”

Grown adults… great champions even… had crumbled under the weight of the amulet. Tellad-Urr the Terrible had been the most shocking and horrifying example but unfortunately not the only one.

“Then make sure you don’t die soon,” Merlin said. He sighed again. “Look I brought him here to make sure that when the time came he would be ready to take up the mantle.” He gave Kanjigar a look that the troll couldn’t quite interpret. “Perhaps you could start teaching him some combat and other Trollhunter skills. You were saying that younglings need to run around.”

Something welled up in Kanjigar’s chest as he finally managed to push through his shock.

“Yes,” He said, lips curling up slightly from his fangs. He had to take a breath to force down his anger. It didn’t work. “But they also need to have friends and enjoy the freedom that comes with their youth. I’ve already told you that Jim should not be trapped in this cage… in this cave all the time… but…” Kanjigar took another breath, the first hints of a snarl rode on the exhale. “But knowing what the future has in store for him. He needs to have time to just be a child even more. The mantle of Trollhunter is a heavy one. Caring for the wellbeing of many is a great burden. You of all people know that.”

He tried to catch the wizard’s gaze but he refused to meet Kanjigar’s eyes. The flame flickering in his chest kindled brighter. He hadn’t felt this way since he found Draal- back when his son was still just a whelp- cornered up against the edge of the tree line by some idiot younglings who thought terrorizing others was fun and who had not yet realized just how small of a slip it took for one to turn to stone.

“Let me take the boy to Trollmarket,” Kanjigar suggested, still trying to be reasonable and keep some semblance of control over his temper. “He’ll be safe there. He’ll be able to play with other younglings and grow up at a normal pace, then when the time comes for… for him to take up my mantle he’ll have had a chance to properly enjoy life first.”

Kanjigar waited for Merlin to reply. The silence stretched out between them. Kanjigar thought the wizard looked older than usual: tired. His shoulders were slumped and lines of tension traced his forehead.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no.” Merlin looked up and met the Trollhunter’s eyes finally. Once again his face was unreadable. “James will not be accepted in Trollmarket. If you are looking for a place where he can be safe and happy and carefree… Well I’m sorry to break your delusion but that will not be it.”

Kanjigar growled and open his mouth to argue. The amulet hummed ominously on his chest in response to his emotions. He knew without trying that it was impossible to remove right now.

“Do you really think the other trolls will notice nothing odd about him?”

Kanjigar paused at his words and Merlin seized on that hesitation and continued.

“You yourself thought he was a changeling. Do you think you are the only one who will come to such a conclusion? The only one to treat him harshly because of it?”

Kanjigar flinched. Jim’s scared face as the Trollhunter had pinned him to the wall reared up in his memory again.

“Well?”

Kanjigar turned away, shame curling around his throat.

“I need to go check on Jim. I will think about what you said.”

He left the wizard, before he did something else he would regret, and hurried back to the small room. Jim was nowhere to be seen but Kanjigar could smell his strange new scent.

“Young Jim,” He said hesitantly.

There was no response.

The Trollhunter moved slowly into the room.

“Jim? Are you there? I am sorry about how I acted. That was wrong of me.”

Still no response.

Kanjigar’s ears pricked. There. He could hear harsh breathing.

It seemed he was still in the blanket pile. Kanjigar carefully lifted the thick downy blanket that was on top of the pile.

Jim flinched when the light hit him and curled into himself. Kanjigar released the blanket, not feeling quite right disturbing the boy, and it fell slightly to the side.

Kanjigar sighed. He crouched down and then stayed there for a moment, unsure of how to go forward.

“Young Jim…”

Kanjigar trailed off and ran a hand over one of his horns. This was all his fault. He had crushed the poor boy into a wall. Threatened him! A simple apology was nowhere near sufficient.

“I’m sorry Jim,” he said anyway to the boy’s back. “I thought you were something else, an enemy, but how I treated you was wrong. I won’t do it again. Can you forgive me? Or at least let me check to make sure you are unharmed.”

The boy didn’t respond but Kanjigar saw that one of his ears was turned back toward him. And wasn’t that a change? Kanjigar fought down the sense of unease that arose at the boy’s strange scent and odd features. This wasn’t the time to deal with that. It wasn’t Jim’s fault.

The boy remained quiet. Eventually Kanjigar did the only thing he could think of and sat down on the ground next to him. Both ears twitched in his direction at that but other than shivering Jim still didn’t move.

Kanjigar waited. If there was anything being Trollhunter had taught him it was patience.

An hour passed. Jim began to move more but seemed determined not to leave his spot. Not while Kanjigar was in the room.

The Trollhunter felt the shame curl tighter around his core. If only he had taken a moment longer to assess the situation. If he had done that Merlin might have arrived before he had hurt Jim and this could have been avoided. In the past he might have, but after the incident with Nomura, Kanjigar had become wary. He couldn’t forget how casually she had dropped her act when it no longer suited her or the burn of her blade on his side. He definitely couldn’t forget how heartbroken Draal had been.

He sighed and ran his hand down his face.

It was then he had realized that his enemies would take advantage of anyone close to him. It was then that he had started working alone. He found himself wondering sometimes if it was the right decision. Draal was angrier these days. He had heard that he was getting into more fights. Blinky had suggested it was because he wanted his father’s attention. Kanjigar wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he had made a decision and needed to stick to it.

Kanjigar wrenched his mind away from that painful line of thought and focused his gaze on the wall across the room. It was fairly plain rock at first glance, lightly textured with regular divots that suggested someone had worked on it with a chisel. If one looked close they would notice that thread thin veins of emerald ran through the darker stone. It made sense that Merlin had chosen this place, Kanjigar mused. The wizard’s magic was green and magic tended to be better enhanced by crystals of similar coloring…

His thoughts were broken off by a quiet scraping to his left, he carefully didn’t look.

He wasn’t quite sure what else to say either. He had already apologized; what else did one say to a child that they treated as a spy?

“Do I really look that different?” Jim asked.

Kanjigar looked at him cautiously out of the corner of his eye, making sure he wasn’t going to bolt, before looking at him fully. It was an odd question. He would have expected Jim to ask about the things Kanjigar had said when he was threatening him instead.

He took a moment to study the boy’s changes.

Like his scent, his appearance was now a mix of human and trollish traits. His skin was stoney. Whether that went all the way or was merely on the surface Kanjigar didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care to find out either. His nose was still relatively human, a little flatter and broader than it had been, but human. His ears were longer and freemoving now but his hands had retained five fingers each. Of course there were a few troll species that had five fingers but it was a rarer trait. (One often associated with changelings…) His hair was courser, but still black. Small tusks just barely poked out between his lips.

“Your eyes are the same,” Kanjigar said after a moment.

The boy jolted and then looked up at him. Indeed the rest of him may have changed but those bright blue eyes were the same.

“The rest of you looks different but they haven’t changed at all.”

“Oh,” Jim said and looked away again.

He looked down at his feet a quiet frown playing across his lips.

“Do you think my Mom would recognize me?” He asked quietly.

Kanjigar felt something his chest tighten.

“I don’t know,” He said softly. As much as he wanted to comfort the child he couldn’t lie to him on this. It would only bring pain in the future.

He paused a thought flickering in his mind.

“Does she not know… Was she not informed of your change?”

He hoped Merlin had discussed this with the boy’s parents beforehand, but… well…. The Wizard had shown that he was careless about such things. A lot of heartache could have been avoided if he had told Kanjigar beforehand…

Perhaps he had thought Kanjigar would try to stop him. (Perhaps he was right.)

Jim drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He pressed his face between them and murmured something that Kanjigar couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?”

“She wasn’t there,” Jim repeated softly. His voice caught and Kanjigar realized that he was starting to cry. “I went to our house before… when Merlin told me about the potion. I…” He hiccupped and lifted his head a little to wipe at his eyes. “I wanted to see her before… But there were other people there. They said she’d moved… left.”

Jim’s shoulders shook and a slightly louder sob came out of him.

“What if I see her again and she doesn’t know who I am?” He almost wailed. “What if…” He grabbed at his long ears, tugging them down in distress. “What if she’s scared of me or hates me?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What if she thinks I’m a monster?”

Kanjigar reached out and picked him up. He pulled him to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. For a moment Jim struggled but then the small half-troll pressed his head into Kanjigar’s chest and wailed.

It was a lonely, painful sound. Not quite troll or human.

It made Kanjigar’s chest ache.

He rested his chin on Jim’s head and rocked him gently as the boy cried.

Eventually he quieted and then after a little longer he breathing evened out.

He’d fallen asleep, Kanjigar realized.

He shifted him to a slightly better position and then leaned back against the wall tiredly.

What was he going to do?

He had had his hesitations about Jim being in Merlin’s care but after this…

He meant what he said about wanting to take Jim to Trollmarket. Unfortunately Merlin was right: the other trolls would be hesitant to accept Jim. There was some advantage to the fact that he was young. If he could convince the adult trolls that he was not a changeling they would not harm him… Most likely…

Kanjigar’s status as Trollhunter would certainly provide some protection but even if Jim was safe from the adult trolls…

Kanjigar grimaced. The adult trolls wouldn’t be the only problem. In his experience children tended to pick up on their parents’ prejudices. It was possible Jim wouldn’t be accepted among them either.

That was even without getting into ages.

The troll children who were mentally Jim’s age were already over a century. There were differences in how they approached and understood things as a result.

Not to mention he didn’t know if Jim was going to keep aging at a human rate or slow down…

Kanjigar carefully shifted Jim so he had a free hand to rub his forehead.

“What am I to do with you?” He murmured to the sleeping child.

He didn’t know. He really didn’t know.

Jim shifted in his sleep and made a soft whimper in his throat. His brows drew together and he pressed his face harder against Kanjigar before stilling again.

It wasn’t fair, Kanjigar thought. He had wished –pleaded with the amulet even- that his own son Draal wouldn’t have be forced to bear the burden. He had gotten that wish: but at what cost? This boy didn’t deserve to suffer it either.

He ran a hand through Jim’s hair and promised himself two things.

First: He would live as long as possible. He would make sure that Jim was well into adulthood before he took to mantle of Trollhunter. Kanjigar would fight for his own life as if he was fighting for Jim’s.

And second: He would do everything in his power to make sure that Jim was prepared for when his time came.

~~~~

Author Notes:

Yeah Jim is going to have some trauma from that...

Chronologically this chapter takes place soon after Chapter 6. If Barbara had waited even a month to move she might have encountered Jim. (Whether that would have ended well or not is hard to say.) We'll get to see what happened with Jim's visit to his old home in another chapter.

Jim is a little different looking from his cannon half-troll form in this AU due to Merlin having much longer to work on the potion. His troll and human traits are a little better balanced. Main differences include: 5 fingers on both hands, his ears are more like Blinky's in shape than elf-like as they are in cannon, and a slightly increased immunity to the sun (I'm still deciding to what extent). There are some other things that will come up later as well.

Something worth noting is that Jim is in many ways what troll imagine changelings look and smell like. Actual changelings switch from fully troll to fully human, but changelings are not frequently interacted with so images get distorted over time. Kanjigar knows this but it escaped his mind in the moment.

I don't recall seeing Kanjigar interact with any changelings in cannon but I have no reason to believe that he would be an exception to the general attitude toward them.

This is the end of this three part arc. I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will take place in the present.

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panharmonium · 4 years

Text

...and damn the consequences

These are just some thinky-thoughts that I suppose could be an addendum to this old piece about Morgana, since I saw a couple of different discussion threads in that general vein in the tag a while back, and you know reading about this show always gets my brain going. :)

Most of what I ran into was written with the intention of shifting the blame for Morgana's issues away from Merlin, which is something I appreciate, personally - I've talked plenty myself about the myriad reasons why Merlin does not owe Morgana his secret and does not deserve "blame" for the things she does.

But when the blame is shifted (rightly) away from Merlin, it does sometimes end up getting pushed onto others. And while I do understand where that impulse comes from, I actually tend to approach this from a slightly different perspective, so since I don't think I've ever typed up anything about this particular subject before, I figured I might as well set down a few potential things to consider about a) Morgana (in relation to Gaius, specifically), and b) the more general question of "the blame" (and whether it's really a productive line of discussion, given that the question only has one legitimate answer, for me, at least).

disclaimer, as always: these are just my own thoughts, and nobody is obligated to share them! If my particular perspective isn't interesting to you, don't worry about it - I'm just hanging out talking to myself on my own blog, so feel free to scroll past and continue interpreting the show in whatever way is most enjoyable for you!

i. my favourite patient is always welcome

So, first of all - some thoughts about Gaius.

I was really surprised at how infrequently Gaius appeared, when I first started poking around in the fandom. For such a major character, and for someone who is such a huge part of Merlin's life, I definitely thought he would be more prominent, but essentially the sorts of posts I've seen about him are mostly restricted to two things: 1) memes, and 2) call-outs (he's in a very similar position to Kilgharrah, in that way).

I don't necessarily think those things do him justice, and there’s a lot more we could talk about when it comes to his character, but for now, the only thing I'm really interested in working on is maybe adding some nuance to the perpetual question of Gaius, Morgana, Merlin, and "the blame."

(For clarity’s sake: nothing that follows necessarily means that Gaius makes the “right” decisions. The entire point of his character's history is in fact his failure to always do the right thing - see: Kilgharrah's line where he tells Gaius to “do nothing," because “that is, after all, your talent." What I’m saying in the section that follows is just that there's more to consider about the choices Gaius makes than “he's a coward.")

So - some things to consider, when we think about Gaius and Morgana:

1) One thing I'm not always sure people realize about this show is that neither Gaius nor Merlin knows that Morgana has magic until 2.03.

And I definitely can see why people don’t necessarily realize it, because as we all know this show can be a little haphazard/loosey-goosey with its worldbuilding, but just to help clarify: until 2.03, Gaius does not know that Morgana has magic. He knows that "some of the things she dreamt" have indicated certain future events (NOT all of them, importantly - more on that later), but her dream-visions are also specifically stated to be a separate gift from sorcery - dream-visions and magic are clearly established to be different things in this show, and prior to 2.03, Morgana has only ever demonstrated one of these abilities.

At the end of 1.07, Merlin asks, "Is she like me? Does she have the gift?" and Gaius's response is, "I hope not, for her sake." Earlier, he also says, "The gift of prophecy is too close to the work of magic," indicating that the two things are, in fact, different abilities (if equally dangerous ones, in Uther's eyes). “It's said to be an innate ability. Those who have it are born that way.” Whereas magic, in the Merlin-verse, is a learned skill. We spend so much time around Merlin that we tend to transfer his experience to all other magic-users, but we have to remember that Merlin, in this world, is directly stated to be unique. He uses magic without spells, without study; he tells Gaius he was born doing it. But when Gaius hears Merlin say this, his response is, "That's impossible." It's not something that happens.

In the Merlin BBC-verse, people can be born with the "gift" - the ability to use magic - but their magic doesn't just manifest on its own. What happens to Merlin (being able to use magic "before he could talk," with no training and no spells) and Morgana (starting a fire accidentally) is NOT something that is indicated to ever happen to other magic-possessors. We aren't being introduced to a world where magical children will automatically start manifesting their magic in dangerous ways unless they're trained to use their abilities (ie, the X-Men model, or the Force-sensitive child model, where choosing not to teach someone is automatically irresponsible ). Magic, as presented to us in this show, is something that cannot be used without training or specific spells/power-amplifying artifacts. Merlin (and, later, Morgana) are exceptions to a universal rule.

And this is just something to keep in mind, because it does provide some context for Gaius's decisions. It doesn't mean people have to agree with the choices he makes - it doesn't even mean *I* always agree with the choices he makes, to be honest - but I do think it's worthwhile to at least remember that Gaius doesn't make his decisions thoughtlessly. As far as Gaius knows, even if Morgana did have magic, there is no way that it could ever manifest and become an issue for her without her being trained. If she doesn't learn how to use magic, she can't use it, period. And if she can't use it, no one will ever know she has it. And if no one ever knows she has it, no one can ever kill her for it.

(Once we hit 2.03, the conversation changes, obviously. It becomes clear that Morgana is some kind of anomaly as well, and at that point, the only appropriate path forward is to tell her she has magic.)

(Which is, of course, precisely what Merlin does.)

2) According to the show, only "some of" Morgana's dreams have actually played out in real life; others have just been regular nightmares (and we see later on that even some of her prophetic dreams are vague to the point of incomprehensibility - eg, she dreams about a raven in 2.01, but how would she ever know what that meant, or if it meant anything at all, barring external context?) Some of the risk/benefit analysis on Gaius's part has to take this problem into account - what if he did tell her that some of her dreams might be prophecies? There would be no way for anyone to sort out which ones were real and which ones were just nightmares. And Gaius has known Morgana all her life - he knows what she's like; he knows how headstrong she is. She would assume all of her dreams were real, and she would act on all of them, because what if the one time she ignored a dream, something bad happened to someone she cares about?

Gaius is familiar enough with Morgana to know with absolute certainty that this is what she would do. And he knows that this could SO easily end up getting her killed, either by Uther, who would quickly figure out that something was going on, or by the sheer dangers associated with Morgana throwing herself into confrontations based only on uncertain visions (or worse, regular old dreams).

3) We also have to think about what this show tells us about prophecy in general. Trying to act on prophetic information, in this world, is firmly established as a dangerous game, one which, more often than not, ends up directly causing the outcomes one was trying to prevent. Trying to change the future, in the BBC Merlin universe, backfires on people every single time. In 2.10, the Crystal of Neahtid is framed as holding "a terrible power," and Merlin knows instinctively that "no good [will] come of it," even as he feels compelled to look into it. In 3.05, Gaius himself says of the Crystal Cave that "the crystals are treacherous," and Kilgharrah says that "to change the future is no simple matter, Merlin. To do so is fraught with danger." In Season 5, of course, we all know what happens with Merlin's attempts to prevent Mordred from killing Arthur - it ensures Arthur's death! And that's not even mentioning all the collateral damage it causes - Kara's execution, Mordred and Morgana’s eventual deaths, etc.

I thought I could alter the future, but instead, I caused it. I made it happen.

What you did was dangerous, even for someone as gifted as you.

These are truths about the universe in the BBC Merlin world, not Gaius's personal opinions. Gaius had been brought up steeped in the rules of the Old Religion; he knows how that world works. The risk posed by Morgana interpreting all of her dreams as prophecies (and the absolute certainty that she would constantly attempt to alter their outcomes) is not a trivial concern or something he should ignore. It is real, significant, and extremely dangerous, for both Morgana and the people around her.

So in general, I do think there's a broader context to what Gaius does than we typically look at. I'm not saying that it isn't a sticky situation, and I'm not even saying that Gaius makes the right calls. All I'm saying is that I think it's worth acknowledging that the decisions he makes are a) always sincerely intended to protect Morgana from a number of very real dangers, not just Uther, and b) founded on more than simple cowardice or carelessness.

ii. of course what really matters is the blame / someone you can blame

More generally -

Whenever I see discussion circulating about Morgana’s descent into villainy, occasionally the conversation can start to feel to me a little bit like that scene in Into the Woods where all the characters start going "so it's HER fault/HIS fault/YOUR fault" as they backtrack further and further along the chain of events and tear apart every single character's innocuous decisions (the consequences of which could not possibly have been foreseen) in order to escape any scrap of personal responsibility, until the Witch interrupts their bickering and rips them a new one for worrying so much about who to blame when they have a real problem to solve.

These blame-placing conversations about Morgana, much like this scene, are interesting and enjoyable to think about in their own ways, but they rarely get quite where I want them to go. I definitely love seeing people articulate the "we shouldn't blame Merlin for what Morgana does" angle, but things often then slide into "we should blame X person instead", where X person is Kilgharrah or Morgause or Gaius or Uther or whoever.

And for me, that analysis doesn’t quite hit the mark. The correct endpoint of "we shouldn't hold Merlin responsible for Morgana's actions" isn't "we should hold X person responsible instead." The correct endpoint is "the only person responsible for Morgana's actions is Morgana."

The last time I wrote about Morgana like this, I mentioned that ultimately, the difference between Merlin and Morgana for me is that Merlin owns his choices. He feels guilt, he expresses regret, he apologizes for his mistakes, and he blames himself for his missteps (as well as for other things that aren't remotely his fault). Morgana, on the other hand, never apologizes for anything (despite the fact that she's made plenty of mistakes worth regretting), and sometimes it feels like in fandom we don't necessarily expect her to do so, as if it's a benchmark we don't need her to meet.

So because I really do have strong feelings about the double standard we use when it comes to Merlin and Morgana, I want to talk for a minute here about Merlin and Gaius’s relationship, to provide a comparison.

Morgana isn't the only person who's had important information about her parentage and potential abilities withheld from her. Gaius hides both Merlin's dragonlord heritage and the identity of Merlin's father all the way until the end of Season 2, when necessity forces him to reveal the information. Merlin's mother, for her own part, has been hiding this information from Merlin all his life - out of valid fears for Merlin's own safety, of course, the same way Gaius is trying to protect Morgana. But still, from Merlin's point of view, in the moment when the information is revealed to him, the justification offered by his guardians is unacceptable. He is angry and upset, and he feels cheated out of knowledge he deserved to have, the absence of which has negatively affected him all his life. “I had a right to know,” he keeps saying, on the verge of tears.

Has Merlin been harmed by the choices his guardians made for him, even if said choices were made to protect him? Yes. Does he have a right to feel hurt, betrayed, and angry? Yes. Is he entitled to every ounce of his righteous rage? Absolutely.

Is he also responsible for how he reacts, now that the information has been revealed? YES.

Merlin has no say in what his parental figures do to him in the name of protecting him, and he has no choice about how it makes him feel. He does, however, have a choice about what actions he will now take in response. He can react in a way that hurts others, or he can choose a path of lesser harm. And there's plenty we can say to justify both options, certainly, but either way, the decision he makes is on him.

What that means, in short, is this: Merlin is not responsible for what was done to him. But he is responsible for what he himself does next.

The same goes for Morgana. In absolutely no universe would we classify Merlin's behavior as acceptable if he'd reacted to the revelation of his Dragonlord heritage by assassinating Uther, claiming the throne for himself in the name of his murdered kin, and then shooting innocent civilians in the street when the knights refused to recognize his legitimacy. We would never say that was okay. And we definitely wouldn't then blame Merlin's downfall on Gaius, saying it was Gaius's fault for withholding information about Merlin's powers for so long. The choice to act in a harmful way would still be Merlin's, in that situation.

The same standard holds true for Morgana - particularly when she has access to resources that Merlin can't even dream about. She is rich, beyond his wildest fantasies. One of her dresses costs more than everything Merlin has ever owned in his life - his house, his land, his livestock, every bushel of wheat he's ever harvested. She isn't the 1% in comparison to Merlin; she's the 0.0000001% - a princess in all but but name, and one who would presumably be heir to her father's entire estate in addition to everything she already has in Camelot.

Morgana has the wealth to go anywhere she wants, including places where magic is practiced freely (see Helva, as mentioned in S5). She has the prestige to affiliate herself with powerful people outside of Camelot, if she chooses to do so. Any person in her position would have a broad, high-status network of friends and allies, and indeed we do see that Morgana has political ties outside Uther's court (see: how easily she's able to go to Cenred, Agravaine, Annis in Seasons 3/4 and be admitted, recognized, and trusted, as well as her repeated ability to recruit and/or take command of external armies).

She could leave Camelot if she wanted, learn about her abilities, and build a life for herself elsewhere. She could stay in Camelot and use her considerable resources to work toward her people's liberation, without indiscriminately murdering and enslaving the innocent poor. She could seek out other magic-users like Alator in the spirit of true solidarity, as opposed to just using them as tools to get what she wants and then turning on them when they decide that they don’t want to use her sort of tactics to achieve their liberation. She has hundreds of options, none of which necessarily even require her to forgive or reconcile with the people who harmed her, and none of which are even remotely open to Merlin, who (like Morgana) is still learning about his own abilities, and who (unlike Morgana) has no money, no social power, and no connections that he can leverage or lean upon, besides a tiny village of dirt-poor peasant farmers on the other side of the border with Cenred's kingdom.

Morgana has options. The choices she makes are hers. Gaius's decision not to tell her about her dreams is not equivalent to her receiving a blank check for harmful behavior. She has so many resources. She has so much power. She could have chosen so many other paths - like Merlin tries to plead with her, in the crypt, after he tells her that he does not believe she deserves to be executed, despite what she's done: “We can find another way.”

She's the one who says, “There is no other way.” She makes that decision. She chooses to dismiss the thousand other paths available to her.

That's on her. That is always going to be on her.

iii. i'm going to give you one more chance

This last section...it’s more just a muddle of feels-riddled musing as opposed to a real opinion. It's not something that has a right answer or a solution; it's just something I ponder sometimes.

When we talk about harm being done in the real world, we talk about how intentions don't matter. And that is absolutely true, in terms of both the impact of harmful actions and the harm-doer's responsibility to own what they did/make restitution. If someone knocks you down, and you break your arm, the impact of that event doesn't change depending on whether the person in question did it on purpose or not. Your arm's still broken, either way. Intent doesn't matter, in terms of impact and responsibility - the actual harm done is the same, and the person who knocked you down should still be apologizing and making amends, regardless of whether they intended for you to fall or not.

However - intent does matter when you're considering the future of your relationship with the person who knocked you down. It affects how you react to what they did. It changes how you respond to their actions. If someone threw you to the ground on purpose, you'd (probably) feel differently about that than if a friend knocked you down because they were trying to pull you out of the way of an oncoming vehicle, or because they were carrying too many things in their arms and didn't see you turn the corner.

I think about this sometimes when it comes to Morgana and Merlin.

I don't want to frame this as "Morgana should have forgiven everybody who hurt her," because I don't think that's the case. I've written before about how I fully understand her reasons for ultimately rejecting Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Gaius, etc. She's not required to reconcile with anybody if she doesn't want to.

At the same time, though, I do wonder sometimes about intent. And sometimes I ask myself how things might have been different if Morgana had considered intent, before things went completely to hell, and whether the story’s ultimate outcome might have changed, if she had given even just one of these people a chance.

Morgana has plenty of reasons extend some degree of understanding to the people who caused her pain. The vast majority of the people who caused Morgana harm did so either a) out of love, in a sincere attempt to protect her from being killed, b) without any knowledge of the fact that she needed help, or c) after they thought she was attempting to kill everybody in the city. Everything Gaius ever conceals from her is concealed with the intention of keeping her safe. Arthur knows absolutely nothing about Morgana's parentage until after Morgana has already violently invaded Camelot, and he knows nothing about her prophecies/magic, either. Gwen, too, is never told anything about Morgana's parentage or her magic, even though Gwen supports Morgana when Morgana thinks her dreams might be sorcery. And Morgana never comes to Merlin for help, despite his demonstrated support in 2.03 - what he does later, in 2.11, is a response to him legitimately thinking that she is actively trying to kill everyone in Camelot. When she comes back a year later, he forgives her for it immediately, and when he realizes she has turned against them again, he STILL tries to talk her around, to offer his hand.

So I think about that sometimes. And I wonder what would have happened if Morgana had chosen to recognize things like this. Merlin, for his own part, always chooses to recognize things like this when it comes to the people who've done him wrong (and by this I do not mean to say that his response is always the best one - I'm not talking about him consistently allowing Arthur to continue oppressing him and his community, here. I'm talking about him, on an interpersonal level, being able to recognize when the people who've harmed him did so in an attempt to keep him safe, or without fully understanding the potential consequences of their actions.)

Merlin understands that his mother lied about Balinor and the dragonlords in an attempt to protect him, and he continues to love her in spite of the fact that the deception legitimately hurt him. He understands when Gaius gives Finna up to Arthur, because he know that Gaius sincerely believed her to be a trap laid by Morgana. He understands many of the things Morgana does, too, and he gives her all kinds of chances - he knows why she tries to kill Uther in 1.11, and he holds no grudge. He knows she tried to steal the Crystal of Neahtid in 2.10, and again he holds no grudge - he doesn't even suspect her, at the beginning of the next episode, when the entire city falls asleep. He forgives her in 3.01 after she (as far as he knows) tried to kill the entire city at the end of the previous season, and even after she reveals herself to be a traitor in 3.02, he tells her he doesn't believe she deserves to be executed for who she is. He still feels for her. He still understands. He wants to connect with her.

And, admittedly, neither Morgana nor Merlin are obligated to extend this kind of understanding to the people who've harmed them. The impact of the harmful actions is the same, and Morgana doesn't have to give her friends a chance if she doesn’t want to. She doesn't have to consider their intentions.

But she could have. And I think that in some of these situations, there are compelling reasons why she should have.

It's important to me to recognize that Morgana's choice not to ever consider her friends' intentions, particularly when it comes to people like Gwen, who didn't even understand what was going on and who were given no chance to prove their willingness to help Morgana before Morgana attacked first - completely obstructs the possibility of making amends, working things out together, making a connection, or seeking a more positive outcome. Morgana’s actions come out of nowhere, for most of the people who know her. She starts trying to kill them before they ever even know anything is wrong. She doesn’t give them a chance to help her.

And she doesn’t have to, certainly. But I wonder sometimes what things would have looked like if she had.

#the once and future slowburn #meta #sometimes you've got to do what you think is right

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bard-llama · 3 years

Note

I know the ask game is probably over, but I had to tap out to get up for work this morning, so I hope you don’t mind one more question: would you ever consider writing and publishing original fiction sometime?

It's never over!!! Feel free to send me asks any time!

And yes, definitely! One thing I am actively working on is "converting" fics to original fiction (which is fucking hard and exhausting ugh. So much exposition needed!) so that I can sell them on Amazon. I have my own author's page, look!!

(A side note: the reason the above is legal is because I remove all traces of the Witcher world from it. Monetizing fanfiction itself is NOT legal and actually very dangerous to the community, because lawyers WILL come after you. Remember Anne Rice.)

But aside from that, yes, I definitely have some original pieces in the works! Specifically, Arthurian Legends are my first love and I have a modern reincarnation AU (sorta) in the works! But admittedly, I am... still missing a cohesive plot lmao. I also have a WiP where I take T.H. White's awful Sword in the Stone canon and apply real life consequences to it! By which I mean, if Arthur grew up as an orphan working as a squire for Sir Kay and he's suddenly King? Oh my GOD is he going to have a hard time! He would need to make alliances with a LOT of nobles very fast or they would overthrow him, honestly. So I think that's fun to explore! But also, I despise T.H. White for... many reasons, not least of which is "wtf is Merlin aging backwards through time!? that makes no fucking sense!!!!" Oh also, because Arthur grew up as a street rat, he's got friends and contacts who are the "trash of society" and I will somehow make them save the day lol.

But uh, anyway. The modern Arthurian novel is my main original piece. It features crazy old man Merlin who has lived all this time and is fucking BONKERS from it, Morgana who gets migraines because she sees magic, but her brain doesn't know how to interpret it, and trans!Arthur who is just here to have a good time and maybe fight some monsters. TBH it's a lot more concept than words on a page at this point, but here's a few lil bits:

“Arthur? Seriously? What, do you want to be a king when you grow up?”

“Come on, my last name is Pendragon! How could I pass up the opportunity? It was too perfect!” Arthur grinned, “I’m thinking of changing my profile pic to me with a Burger King crown.”

And then later, when they meet Merlin:

“So, what, do you just go seeking people with names from your legends? ‘Cause I hate to tell you, but I wasn’t born Arthur Pendragon. When I transitioned… I mean, my last name’s Pendragon. How could I resist?”

“Actually, I seek out people saturated with magic. Morgana, and yourself to a lesser extent, are surrounded by magic.”

But yeah, I'm totally down to write original stuff! But even with that, I end up using public domain characters lmao.

Oh, actually, I have 2 original pieces up on AO3! They are Arthurian Legends and are written as oral storytelling pieces, because I adore storytelling and everything about stories tbh. They're just kinda magical!

Anyway, please feel free to send me asks any time!! I always love receiving them!

#ask #arthurian legends #arthurian novel #original fiction #suck it TH White #that's the name of my working draft lmao #seriously i hate TH White his book makes NO SENSE

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teamdoubleoh · 4 years

Text

Boothroyd was Q’s Grandfather

vaguely (sorry) based on this post by @tamquamm and @spiritofcamelot s request. Also infused is @caffeinatedflummadiddlebutmerlin s gender fluid merlin, though I didn’t ask If I could use the concept, sorry.

pt. 1/2 wordcount: 3533 unbeta:ed (And written by someone who can’t spell for shite in any language.)

Q has heard all about MI6 from his grandfather, Gregory, also known as Major Boothroyd. Bond’s predecessor as 007 used to annoy Boothroyd to no end so when Q meets Bond he finds himself unable to resist making one or three references to his grandfathers work at MI6. The older Minions are in on it, the younger ones think it’s hilarious and Bond thinks Q is very pretty when he smiles so he won’t ask what the hell is going on, as long as it makes Q happy.

TLTR: Q is a Holmes, the Minions treat quotes from Boothroyd like vines, Eve is a genius and Bond is in love. They get drunk, and Bond learns about Q and his family.

(This developed from a 500-word Drabble to a 3.6k monstrosity. Also Q is a Holmes and has a fourth sibling.)

When Bond had first met Q he’d still been unaccustomed to the name Q in reference to the Quartermaster. For as long as he’d been an agent the Quartermaster had been Major Gregory Boothroyd, who had been referred to by most agents as Major Boothroyd.

This had made calling the new Quartermaster Q very easy, and even though Bond liked to let of snarky remarks about Q’s age, he was well aware that Boothroyd would have never appointed anyone as R who wasn’t perfectly fit to take over as Quartermaster at any given time. And yet James had thought that this new Quartermaster would be someone who wasn’t used to the antics of agents or at least the double-oh’s and thus easier to irritate. He was wrong.

At First he had thought it coincidence.

Q had sat next to him in the national gallery, made a comment about the inevitability of time and handed him his equipment. Then, just as he was about to leave, he had reminded Bond to return the equipment in one piece.

There had been something in his eyes Bond couldn’t quite place - but it came close to a look he know from his missions - something in the eyes of someone who had just fooled everyone in a game of poker to go all in, only to reveal a royal flush.

James had dismissed it, had thought he’d interpreted too much into a single look. He should have known better, of course there had been something. Saying these words had meant more to Q than the pride of being the Quartermaster of MI6 could rectify. He had smiled his tight little smile and his eyes had shone with pure mirth.

It had happened again and again; pieces of dialogue between him and Q that seemed to light the Quartermaster up.

Once he had been going over the speed limit while on mission; not an irregular occurrence, sure, but for some reason Q had seemed delighted when he reminded Bond that he had a licence to kill, not to break the traffic laws. Bond had hesitated momentarily and answered that, yes he was aware. The pure satisfaction Q had radiated when he said »Good!« Had been clearly audible over com. So had been R’s snort in the background.

Another time they’d been standing in Q branch and Q had begrudgingly handed James a ›class four grenade‹, whatever that meant. James had been delighted to find that it looked very much like an ordinary pen and made a witty comment about how the pen was mightier than the sword. Q had smiled as he reminded Bond that that was now in fact the case and that James had to thank Q for that. James had smiled flirtily. »Did you just make joke Q?«

Q just shook his head in something that seemed to be a combination of genuine distress and mirth. »I never joke about my work 007.«

At least two senior minions had trouble to stifle their laughs while one of the new ones working nearby just grinned for the remainder of Bond’s stay in Q-Branch.

Since it was common knowledge that basically anything in Q-brach was deadly - including any and all personnel - many of the A-list Agents and most of the double-oh’s were very careful when it came to touching things. The only double-oh who seemingly forgot this every time he appeared before and after missions was, of course, 007. He had the potentially fatal habit to pick up whatever was in his reach to twirl it around or trow it in the air.

One particular time he’d just put down a poisoned ring when he’d set eyes on a brown paper bag that looked innocent enough to him. When he went to pick it up Q turned around, lightning fast, and pulled the bag from his hands exclaiming loudly, »DON’T TOUCH THAT! That’s my lunch!« to the obvious amusement of everyone in the vicinity.

Whenever James said something remotely illogical, immature or not well thought out, Q immediately quipped »Oh, grow up 007«. After three weeks of this the phrase had become something of an inside joke between the minions and Bond, and even he could appreciate it, even though he didn’t quite understood why it was that funny.

Bond only figured it out after Eve had invited him to one of her and Q’s monthly movie nights, though there was more drinking than movie watching.

***

They’d met at Q’s flat because it was located more or less exactly between Bond’s and Moneypenny’s. It was cozy and reasonably small, but not cluttered. The living room was not very lived in, which made sense to James when he considered Q’s working habits, but well furnished.

There was a worn couch that could hold all three of them if they squeezed, as well as an armchair and a wooden coffee table. Next to two bookcases there was a drawer that was probably supposed to hold silverware and tablecloths but the bottom drawer was pulled open and filled to the brim with scraps and bits of old tech.

Much more interesting was what Q had placed on top of the drawer. There were photos. Photos of the Quartermaster, some of him alone with different diplomas, some together with others or groups of people.

To James’ amazement one showed Q standing next to Mycroft Holmes. Bond had been introduced once, by his M, who hadn’t actually mentioned what Holmes did - only that he was basically everyone’s superior and also on speaking terms with the Royal family.

Another picture displayed a black door adorned with golden letters, telling the passing crowd that this was number 221b. In front stood an old lady with two younger men behind her. One of them was Sherlock Holmes, Bonds realised, the genius detective who’d killed himself a few years back. The other, Bond recognised from his army days as one lieutenant John Watson. Next to the old lady there was the Quartermaster, bespectacled and wearing one of his cardigans.

One photo, at least twenty years old, displayed a younger version of M, Olivia Mansfield, next to a stern looking woman in a emerald green gown, that looked like it came straight from the late 19. hundreds, a woman that could only be described as ›motherly‹ and the woman from the picture with the detective.

The most recent picture was probably the one of the royal wedding. Bond remembered reading about it in a paper he’d nicked from a minions desk on his way to the airport. The crown prince Arthur Pendragon had caused a worldwide uproar when he’d announced he was not only bisexual but also planning to wed one Myrdinn Holmes.

The picture that stood in the very front showed a younger version of Q and Major Boothroyd. Q was standing behind Boothroyd’s motorised wheelchair in the old Q-Branch, the one that Silva had blow up, and both were smiling brightly at the camera.

Bond turned to Q who was setting down glasses on a small couch table.

»You and Boothroyd. You were close, weren’t you?« James asked softly.

Q hesitated before stepping next to Bond. He picked up the frame and showed Bond the backside where someone had written ›Q and Q - the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’

James turned to look at Q. He know how the Quartermaster looked, he had spent enough time staring at him when Q wasn’t looking but only now he noticed how similar Q and Boothroyd had been, both in complexion and behaviour.

»He was your grandfather. I’m... sorry for your loss« James stated.

»Who?« Moneypenny asked. She had appeared in the doorway to the small kitchen, holding a bottle of some alcoholic beverage in hand, which she had apparently opened already.

»Boothroyd.« James answered quietly.

Q smiled, the nostalgia in his voice barely concealed »He used to tell me stories about MI6, when I was little. About his work and the agents.«

»Did he tell you about what a great agent I was?« Bond smirked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

»By the time you were a double-oh I was already working for MI6, unofficially I mean. He told me about 007 - your predecessor that is. It was a joke between him and me, you know? The ›grow up 007‹. We would make wagers about how often he could get away with saying it to 007 before he got suspicious.«

Moneypenny snorted a little.

Q smiled his brilliant smile at her, melancholy all but forgotten now. »He told be about you, too. Said you were brilliant. He always wanted to make a bet about how you would be M some day. I never accepted because I knew he was right.«

Moneypenny put her head to one side. »I was still an agent back then…«

Q only shrugged. »He said you were too good to be an agent.«

Moneypenny blushed lightly and smiled happily. »Sounds like he was a good grandfather.«

Bond grinned. »Sounds like he was just like Q.«

Q turned to the coffee table to pour three glasses of what appeared to be Bombay sapphire and gave James and Eve one each. »You’re both right. Now, what movie shall we get drunk to?«

***

Three hours later they were sprawled on top of each other across the seating accommodations.

The only source of light was a small lamp, standing atop the drawer, which emitted a warm, candle like light.

Eve had called dibs on the armchair ages ago, eying Q and James with barely hidden mirth.

After two hours of drinking she’d picked up the framed photo of the royal wedding and waxed about the beauty of the crown princes sister, while Q and James smiled, already too intoxicated to mind the terrible puns and metaphors comparing the duchess’s hair to the night sky and her eyes to stars. In a final motion of grandeur she’d remarked that the lady looked like she could kill anyone, just by staring them down.

After half an hour she’d put the frame back and hadn’t said a thing for at least thirty minutes before exclaiming in a fit of something that Q could only call euphoria, »R is Q’s second in command because R comes after Q in the alphabet!«

Then she’d closed her eyes and started snoring softly.

Q, who had given up trying to keep his distance from James on the tiny couch and instead had now sprawled out on top of the other man like a drunk blanket, had only murmured »Bloody hell« before refraining from saying anything more and staring at the ceiling in silent contemplation instead.

Bond was silent. There was a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest that could have been caused by alcohol as much as by the adorable idiot that had chosen him as his mattress and was now studying the ceiling.

Bond turned his head, slowly, as not to disturb Q, to look at the picture of Q and Boothroyd - Q’s grandfather - on the drawer next to the couch.

»Did you know M? Olivia Mansfield?« He asked softly.

Q turned his face towards the drawer too. »Why else would I keep her picture?« His answer had been barely a murmur but the voice was right next to James’s ear.

James snorted softly. »You can’t tell me you know everyone in these Photos Q.«

»You’re adorable.«Q smiled lazily against Bonds chest.

Bonds heartbeat quickened the slightest bit. »Q. You do know there is a photo of Mycroft Holmes on your drawer.«

Q wiggled a bit so he could see the frames without rearranging his vertebrae and frowned slightly. »Why wouldn’t I know Mycroft?«

Bond wanted to shrug, but Q sounded like he was almost asleep. » M - my M - introduced me once. Told me he was her superior. Said he was friends with the Royal family.« He paused for a second, before continuing »She also told me to never, ever, piss him off.«

»She knew you well, huh?«

»S’pose so.«

»Granperé told Mycroft about you too.«

»Boothroyd told Mycroft Holmes about me?«

»’Told him about all agents.« Q corrected.

Bond smiled about the absurdity. »Your Grandfather spied at MI6 for Mycroft Holmes?«

» ’course. So do I« Q slurred, before snuggling closer to James’ chest.

»Why? He’s Mycroft Holmes. ’s not like he needs outside support now, does he?«

»Outside?«

»Y’know, not family.«

»Boothroyd was Mycroft’s family, Bond.«

James chocked on air. »You’re related to Holmes? What, s’ he your uncle?«

»Don’t be daft Bond, I’m not related to a Holmes- «

»Could you stop calling me Bond all the time?«

»If you stop interrupting me I will. I’m not related to a Holmes, I am a Holmes.«

» You’re a Holmes… Mycroft Holmes is your cousin.«

»Brother.«

»…Ah.«

Q found that he was almost asleep, which was a feat in itself, considering where he was currently located.

Then James spoke up again. »That’s how you now the royal family then? Through Mycroft?«

»Why the royal family?«

»You have a picture of the royal wedding framed Q. Although I s’pose keeping a picture of your brother and your former Boss is slightly different from keeping picture of the Pendragon family, even if you were introduced. Hadn’t taken you for a royalist, Dear Quartermaster.«

»My former Boss?«

»M, Q. Olivia Mansfield?«

»Oh yeah. I don’t keep her picture because she w’s my boss.«

» ’Thought you only kept pictures of people you knew.«

»Actually not true. ’only keep pictures of Fam’ly.«

»You’re related to M?« Bond had known M had had children, but not much else.

»My mothers sister. One of the four Ms.« Q giggled like he’d made a formidable joke.

»Your’ aunt’s and mother’s names all start with M?« James asked, a smile on his lips.

» ’course not, James. You know M’s name was Olivia. They all grew up to be M though.«

Q reached out to grab the picture displaying M and what apparently were her sisters but failed.

James picked it up and handed it to Q, who turned so he faced the ceiling again and pointed at M to explain.

»You know Olivia Mansfield, born Holmes, who was called M for her position in MI6.«

He pointed at the woman who James had dubbed ›motherly‹ upon first glance a few hours back. »This is my mother. Her name is Violet Holmes. She kept her last name when she married my father but no one calls her Violet of even Mrs. Holmes. Everyone just calls her Mummy. Mycroft started it when we were kids and it stuck. This is her older sister, Minerva,« Q pointed out the stern looking woman. »She’s Headmistress in a… private school up north… well. And this is Martha, the youngest. She got married too, but Mr. Hudson did some illegal stuff on the other side of the pond and got himself on death trail. Martha asked Sherlock for help, of course. Now she lives in London again. Thus the four Ms; Minerva, Mummy, M and Martha.« Q trailed off.

James picked up the photo of the woman he now knew as Martha Hudson in front of the door and showed it to Q, pointing out the short man standing behind her left shoulder. »John Watson, right? I know him. Used to know him, I mean, in the army.«

»Hasn’t been a Watson in some time though. Goes by John Watson-Holmes now. ’S my brother in law.«

»Mycroft is married?« James asked softly. ›Mycroft is gay?‹ went unsaid.

»He’s married, alright. Not to John mind you, but Lestrade. His first name is Greg, but everyone ’cept Mycroft calls him Lestrade. Gregory Lestrade-Holmes is quite a mouthful, so we collectively decided to go with the easier option.« Q grinned lazily.

James blinked a few times. Now Q had lost him. »’Thought you said John was you brother-in-law?«

»I have more than one sibling, James. John is married to Sherlock, my second brother.«

» Thought I lost you back there for a mo’. How are you related to the Pendragons then? You in line for the throne or s’mthing?« James joked.

Q laughed for a few glorious seconds before catching his breath. » Yes, very funny James.«

»You said you only kept photos of your family Q,« James answered with fake outrage. »And now I have to find out you’re not actually related to Royalty?«

»Don’t be silly James, I know what I said. And technically I am related to them, though only by marriage. Hand me the photo of the wedding and I'll show you.«

James complied happily. »I have to say Q. After the confusion with your brothers I am now genuinely interested how you could possibly complicate this further.«

Q let out a stifled groan. He pointed out the few familiar faces out of the crowd of nobility behind them. While the nobles kept in the back the King stood in the middle of the picture, right behind the happy couple. To Arthurs right there was his sister, smiling happily at her brother, who only had eyes for his husband. »It’s not that bad. Let me show you. This is the king, as I hope you realise. These are his children Morgana also known as Eve’s long-time crush and -.«

»I know you think me a fool Q, but I do recognise the King of the country I have sworn my life to.« James smiled while shaking his head in disbelief.

Q groaned. »Oh shush James. If you’re so knowledgable, why don’t you tell me who these people are and save me the effort, hm?«

James mentally shrugged. There were only four people in Britain who were actually royals at the moment and he knew their names. After all, he had legally died for one of them.

He pointed at each person as he went along. » This is, as you have so graciously explained dear Q, the King, Uther Pendragon, whom I coincidentally happen to have sworn my life too. Then there’s the crown prince, Arthur Pendragon, who I will pledge my life to should I mysteriously manage to outlive the King. This one is the lovely lady who Eve has the undeniable crush on. Huh.« He pulled the framer closer. »She really does look like she could kill me. Name’s Morgana Pendragon, illegitimate daughter to the king. I believe she a duchess but I couldn’t tell you her title if my life depended on it.«

»If it’s any consolation, I don’t know it either.« Q quipped.

James rolled his eyes fondly. »I thought you wanted to save your breath, Q.«

Q only let out a ›tsk‹ noise, so James returned to his explanation. »And that is the crown prince’s husband, of whom I only know because I nicked a newspaper from Q-Branch on my way to the airport. Should both Uther and Arthur die before me I would pledge my life to him too, I suppose.« James mused. »His name is Myrdinn Pendragon. I’m sorry to admit I don’t know his title though.«

»He goes by ›prince consort‹. Now, you see who that is standing in the far left corner, right behind the lady so-and-so?«

»Is that…Mummy?«

»Hm hm. That next to her is my father. If you squint you can even see me, right next to Mummy. I was wearing a suit, you know. Mummy confiscated all my cardigans. To my left there even are two of my siblings and their husbands.« Q seemed genuinely upset about the fact that he hadn’t been able to wear a cardigan to the royal wedding.

»Two of your siblings? You have a sister?«

»Occasionally. They’re gender fluid.« Q frowned up at James, scrunching his nose. »You do know what gender fluidity is?«

»I’m an agent, I know about people. You have another sibling then?«

»’s male that day. Name ’s Merlin. He’s right there.« Q murmured, eyes fallen shut from fatigue.

James brought the picture to his face, trying to make out another figure in the crowd he now recognised as the Holmes’.

As if sensing his confusion Q looked up. »In the middle, James.«

James’ eyes darted back to the middle where the royal family stood.

For a moment it was silent.

»Q« James asked gingerly.

»Hm?« Q’s eyes had fallen shut again.

»Are you telling me your brother is married to the crown prince?«

»Sibling. Yes.«

»…Alright.«

It was quiet for another few seconds.

»Who used to be your favourite?«

»Hm?«

»You said Boothroyd used to tell you about the agents. Who was your favourite?«

»Moneypenny.« Q answered deadpan.

»Awe, you hurt me dear Q.« James put the pile of picture frames on the floor next to the couch, then he wiggled to make himself more comfortable and slung his arms around Q. »Who’s your favourite now?«

»Oh, grow up 007.« Q murmured, face pressed against Bonds chest. For a few seconds he was silent. Then Q spoke up again. »James?«

»Q.«

»Would you mind putting out the light?«

»Not at all. If you could do us all the favour and introduce Eve to your sister-in-law.«

»I’ll invite you both for Christmas at the palace.«

»You are lovely, you know that.«

»So are you. Now shut it.«

#007 fest 2020 #team00 #00q #pre relationship #merthur #johnlock #mystrade #but all ships are pretty background-y #so don't get your hopes up #eve moneypenny #drinking #005.Vi

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Seventeen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival )

i know all of us read for an escape, and that is especially true for fanfiction, so the only thing i will say here is this: i am sorry that elected officials have bastardized the phrase “thoughts and prayers” because i believe it is a sacred one. please know i am entirely sincere when i tell you i have been thinking of and praying for you all, especially my black american readers. i hope this grants you few minutes’ reprieve from the pain of the world. i wrote it for you, dear reader.

---

February 8 - Year of

Just as Nesta was finishing her preparations for dinner, Emerie knocked on the door. Nesta untied the apron she had donned before going to open it.

"Hello," she said in greeting, and not Happy birthday, even though that was why Emerie was coming over.

"Hi," Emerie answered.

"Dinner's ready. Come in."

Nesta was not naturally inclined towards cooking, and in their little cottage under the Wall there hadn't been much to cook with, but here she was learning. Sometimes she and Cassian even cooked together now.

"This looks nice," Emerie said, inspecting the duck carefully.

"I've learned, all right?" Nesta said, remembering the first and last time she had attempted to cook for Emerie. This time she had used Cassian's recipes.

"Where is he, anyway?" Emerie asked.

Nesta shrugged, although she knew. Whenever he left with a vague I have to go, it was to Velaris.

"That looks loved," she said, nodding towards a book on the countertop. She frowned. "Haven't you read that already?"

"It's children's stories. You're supposed to read them again."

"Or children are," Emerie said, stifling a grin as she poured herself some water.

Nesta scowled. "Cassian still likes them." They had even read some together. Nesta bit her lip tightly, trying not to think of the evenings spent in the living room, her reading aloud some of his childhood favorites.

"You have a great voice, you know that?" he said to her quite suddenly, interrupting what he had claimed was the best story in the book.

She had scowled at him then as she was scowling at Emerie now. For Nesta's voice had been described as many things: shrill, thin, even grating, once, by some horrible girl from her old village—but never great. "Shut up," she had snapped.

His eyes had widened and his arms went up in surrender. "What? I mean it!"

"You do not."

"I do! It's...clear. Soothing. And sometimes..." he moved his head from side to side, trying to think of the right descriptor. "Lyrical."

"Lyrical?" That was certainly a first.

"Yeah." His face had split into a grin. "Do you sing?"

"No," she said, forcing her head back into the book. "Don't interrupt me, or I won't read anymore of this Nicholas thief..."

"Nicholas, the Thief Who Stole the Night! And fine. Keep going."

But perhaps some of the memory bled onto her face, judging by Emerie's smirk.

"How do you normally celebrate?" Nesta said, quickly changing the subject.

Emerie's brown face fell flatly. "I don't, really."

"Well...how do people here normally celebrate?"

She shrugged. "Like this, more or less."

"Duck?"

"No, doing what they like. With...you know. People."

For the second time that evening, Nesta forced the flush out of her cheeks. A person knowing that they are one of your two friends isn't nearly so miserable when you are also one of their only friends.

---

December 23 - 4 years after

The children face leaving Velaris to go home to Sugar Valley with the same excitement they greet everything, but Elain is fighting back tears.

"We'll see each other again soon," Nesta reminds her, slightly exasperated.

"No, I know," she says. "I'll just miss you."

"You can come and visit whenever you want."

"Well, I will." She wipes her eyes. "I'll move in with you."

"Don't sound so miserable," Nesta says, laughingly.

"I just want to be with my whole family all of the time." Elain rubs at her face again, and, without much warning, throws herself at Nesta.

"Ugh—all right, Elain...yes, I'll miss you too..."

"Come on, Elain," Feyre says, walking towards them, Avery on her hip. "Give her some air."

"I'll miss you," she says again, muffled against Nesta's neck

"I won't," Nesta tells her, making both her sisters laugh. She hides a smile.

"You know," Elain says, finally taking a step back, "you don't look like you had a very relaxing vacation."

No, she'd wager she did not. Because after falling asleep in bed with Cassian on Solstice Eve, she had not managed to sleep at all for the two nights after that. Perhaps being back home in her own room would help grant her some peace of mind.

"There's not really a holiday from being a mother," she says instead.

Elain's eyes light up, looking over eagerly at Feyre. "We could give you one! We could take care of the kids for a few days and you could have some time with—for yourself! Or..." she says, backtracking at the look of alarm on Nesta's face.

"No, no, it's fine," Nesta says, bringing up her hands. "I just don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"We're here when you are," Feyre says, putting Avery down and throwing an arm around Elain.

"Mummy, I want to stay with my aunts," Avery says, tugging on her hand.

"They'll come visit soon. Where are your brothers?"

"Cass and Rhys have got them...oh, here they come."

"All set?" Rhysand asks when they reach them.

Nesta narrows her eyes at the extra bag he's holding.

"Is it all right if I join you?" Cassian mumbles in her ear, appearing at her side.

Well, she doesn't have much choice now, does she? "Sure."

"I just want to spend some more time with you all while the Illyrians are still celebrating."

This mollifies her slightly. "Of course."

After more tearful goodbyes from Elain—the children all seem upset to leave her, too, which softens Nesta's heart in a way she had not expected—Feyre and Rhysand take hold of them all and they are finally home.

"Elain and I will come soon," Feyre says, squeezing her tightly. "Thanks so much, Nesta. We loved having you in Velaris."

"Bye, Aunt Feyre."

"Bye, Aunt Feyre!"

"Oh, goodbye, you three!"

"We hope to have you again, Nesta," Rhysand says, the picture of politeness.

But Nesta doesn't think she will ever be able to look at him without glaring. Still, she maintains the same civility he does. "Thank you."

And she doesn't even snarl at the cooed "Bye, Uncle Rhys!"

"It's been a long few days," Nesta says. "We're going to take a nap."

"I'll get them down," Cassian says, picking up all three of them in one swoop, making them shriek with laughter.

"Thanks," she calls after him as he wrangles them up the stairs.

She supposes he's given her some time to herself, but there's stuff to do. She's got so much new crap she needs to put away...and what on earth is she supposed to feed Ollie's new caterpillar?

Half an hour later, when Cassian sees her sitting at the kitchen table scrawling out a list, he laughs.

"I thought you'd take a shower or something."

"I have so much to do," she says, rubbing her eyes.

"Those authors you found?"

"They've given me some samples...I need to decide what I'm giving to Adil." And she was incredibly busy trying to avoid him, of course.

"Well...when can we talk?"

Nesta looks up at him. She sighs. "Now." She pushes away the work in front of her.

Cassian perks up, obviously not having expected this.

She opens her mouth, but he holds up a hand.

"Actually, do you mind if I go first?"

Nesta blinks. "Sure."

He gives her a reassuring, relaxed grin and pulls out a chair. "I really wanted to thank you for agreeing to come for Solstice. It was the best of my life."

She can't stop her lips from tugging upwards. "The children enjoyed it as well."

"I hope you did, too."

Her slight smile falters, and she moves to pull back. He puts his hands over hers. "Nesta, I know that you're still hurting. But we've come a long way since a few months ago, and I want to keep that. And grow stronger. I don't want to do anything to jeopardize what we have now...and what I want us to be."

This is far too confrontational—

"I don't want to scare you off," he says softly, "but I don't ever want to leave things up to interpretation with you." He pauses for a moment, perhaps not even noticing how he traces her fingers with his. "I want us to be a family."

That isn't fair. Of course she wants that. What's the alternative? That her children come from—from a broken home? "A family can be many things." The hoarseness of her voice is unfamiliar to her.

"I know that." A short laugh escapes him, probably as he thinks of his own makeshift family in Velaris. "But I also know what I want ours to look like."

Is he going to spell it out for her, in the name of loose interpretations? She hopes he doesn't. She's not ready for that, she can't hear him say it.

"It was perfect, wasn't it?"

"What was perfect?" she asks blankly.

"That night. The two of us in one room, the three of them in another."

She flinches. "That was..."

"A mistake, I know. But it still happened." He still hasn't moved his hand. She hasn't moved hers either. He squeezes it tightly. "I know you liked being under the same roof, too. Let's just...not lose our momentum. Let's keep going. This pace is fine for me."

What if it's too fast for her, though? Or her children? Or—and this might be worse—too slow for them?

Sometimes she feels like she never got out of the Cauldron. Like she's still drowning.

---

January 1 - 1 year after

The last of the Solstice decorations were being taken down when Nesta walked to the post officer, the letter she was twirling in her hands drawing far less attention than the ever-growing bump under her gown.

Everyone was staring at it. And—ugh—it was only going to get bigger, wasn't it? Amorette had told her that a triplet pregnancy could result in gaining anywhere north of forty-five pounds. And also to stop referring to her belly as it.

There's no easy way to write to someone I know I never intended to speak to you again, but I changed my mind because I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant, by the way, because I don't know how fae pregnancy works, apparently. Which I guess means I shouldn't be having sex, but well, at least I've stopped now. Write back!

After hours of writing and crumbling up parchment and throwing it against the wall, Nesta had settled on the more gentle:

Cassian,

Write back.

Nesta.

Nesta knew perfectly well how pathetic that was, but after the way she left, she couldn't say anything else. She didn't want him to come here. She didn't want to go there. They'd have to meet in some neutral territory.

Announcing her pregnancy, she believed, was not something she could do in a letter. She had to do it face to face. Not only because she thought, well, he deserved being told that way, but...

Because of her reasoning for almost everything: she was a coward. That was the truth of it.

She had left him, and now he had the opportunity to leave her right back. Pregnant and alone. Delaying his finding out was delaying the possibility of that happening.

So even though she hated herself for sending that letter, she knew it was the only option she could bring herself to go through with.

December 23 - 4 years after

After playing at the park and dinner, putting the children down for the night, Nesta asks Cassian if he'll be all right alone with them for a few hours.

"I'm just going out to meet Amorette," she says.

"Before you do," he says, standing up from the couch and slipping his hand into his pocket. "I forgot to give you this...in all the—er—excitement."

He pulls out a small black box, very much like the one she had turned down years ago. But he opens it and she knows it's not the same one, because of the gift.

A white gold heart on a fine chain, with three tiny stones in the left corner. One deep violet, one royal blue, and one slate grey, each engraved with a letter: A, N, and O.

She traces it lightly with her finger. "Thank you," she says. "It's beautiful. I have...I have yours, too. Wait a moment." She rifles through one of the bags in the kitchen. "It's not—I mean, I guess I should've...you..."

"Give it here, Nesta," he orders, making her laugh slightly. She hands him the book.

He unwraps it and his eyes widen.

"I didn't really make it for you," she explains. "I just started it when they were born and kept adding on. But...I thought you might like it."

She keeps things. Three tiny bracelets Amorette had snapped on three tiny wrists, locks of hair cut for the first time, the first cohesive "art project"...

He looks up at her after flipping through some of the pages, eyes shining. "Thank you. Can I..." He gestures to the necklace, which she's set on the counter.

"Oh. Yes."

He picks it up as he walks behind her. Is it the cold of the metal that makes her wince slightly, or his body heat so close to her.

"Thank you," she says, looking down at it, after he fastens it. "It's beautiful."

"Say hello to Amorette."

It's rather abrupt of him, she thinks. But perhaps he's worried about pushing her too far. At any rate, Nesta takes her leave, and it's only a few minutes before she is knocking on her friend's door and being ushered in.

"Nice necklace," Amorette remarks right away.

"Thanks."

"It's a heart."

"I noticed."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, what warrants a heart necklace?"

Nesta rubs her temples. "Can't I have a drink first?"

Amorette laughs before obliging.

She frowns as she takes the glass from her, jerking her head towards a chair in the corner of the room. "What's all that?"

Amorette's clear blue eyes slide over. "Oh. Paperwork."

"You don't normally bring this much home with you."

"Some research, actually," she admits, "from another hospital. In Ciyaluck."

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "You're working with a hospital in Ciyaluck?"

"Not exactly...they've put out some interesting stuff. They asked applicants to do their own...never mind," she says, waving her hands.

"No, wait. You're applying for something? That's great."

"It's up in the air, really. And I'll spare you the gore. Tell me what happened in Velaris."

Nesta takes a deep breath. "Cassian and I fell asleep in the same bed and Nicky walked in on us."

Even Amorette's healer-patience and understanding are not enough to stop her eyes going wide and her jaw dropping. "You slept—"

"No! We just fell asleep!"

"Oh." She pauses. "But...you were in bed together?"

"We didn't do anything," Nesta hurries to say. "Really. Just fell asleep. We didn't...nothing. It was just..." Nesta lets out a groan and drops her head into her hands. "Nicky saw."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yes." Earlier today. She had stolen a moment alone with him.

"What was your favorite part of the trip?" she had asked, pulling him into her lap, and listened to his ramblings about everything he enjoyed for a few minutes before gently stopping him. "Do you remember when you walked into Mummy's room? And you saw me sleeping there with Appa?"

His brown cheeks darkened, going rosy at the top. Eyes cast down, he nodded.

"And how did that make you feel?"

He shrugged, still not looking at her.

"Sad? Or angry?"

"No..."

"Happy?"

"I don't know."

"You know we both love you very much, right?"

"I know."

"And you're allowed to come into Mummy's room when you wake up in the morning. Or if you wake up in the middle of the night. You know that?"

"I know."

"Would it..." Nesta paused, wondering how best to phrase it. "Would it be good or bad if Appa slept in Mummy's bed again?"

Nicky had looked up, his grey eyes shy as he started wringing his hands. "I don't know."

"All right," she had said, keeping her tone cheerful. She kissed his forehead. "Do you want to go play at the park?"

"Well, that's all right, then," Amorette says when she finishes recounting the events of the afternoon.

"How is that all right?"

"He's not upset," she replies. "He may not know exactly how it makes him feel, but it's not bad."

"What do you think he is feeling, then?" Nesta tries to decide based on his expression when he walked into the room that morning. He had averted his eyes...embarrassed?

Amorette echoes her sentiments. "In the moment, at least. But from what you said...I think he might be pleased."

Is that worse than him being upset? Nesta can't tell.

"Look, he's clearly not losing any sleep over it, and neither should you. You spoke to him, reassured him, made it clear he can come to you. What else is there?"

"I don't know...do you think he told Avery and Ollie?"

Amorette shrugs. "Well, they're not very good secret keepers."

That much is true. "Should I talk to all three of them?"

"If they ask. Parents have done worse things to their children than falling asleep, Nesta," she teases. "When you traumatize them enough for them to run away, it'll be for something worse than this."

Nesta sighs and stretches out her legs. "Suppose you're right...thanks for the book, by the way." An extremely rare edition of one of Nesta's favorites. "Although I don't know if I should thank you for supporting my competition."

"As if," Amorette says, grinning. "Adil tracked it down for me."

Nesta feels a warm flutter in her stomach. "Oh."

She has so much here, doesn't she? The thought doesn't leave her, throughout the whole evening with Amorette and the walk home. Not just for the children...but for her. Adil and Miri and Amorette...and neighbors...and Zeyn.

Who calls her name just as she walks up the steps to her porch.

---

February 16 - Year of

The cold of the Illyrian mountains did not melt alongside the snow, but all of the iciness inside the General Commander's house had gone. There were quiet moments of awkwardness here and there, when Nesta could hear him not mentioning the forbidden words: Velaris, Rhys, Feyre, etc., but the other moments outnumbered them and were pleasant. Which was why Nesta had agreed to join him on one of the mysterious meetings he always disappeared to.

He had asked her a few days ago, after coming home from one of these meetings. Slumped on the couch and complained about how the preferred method rebellion appeared to be directly disobeying him.

"Step down," Nesta suggested, and he had rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't see why you try so much. There are more armies than just the Illyrian one. So let them choose a new commander if they hate you. Be the other armies' commander."

He stretched his arm out, his fingers trailing the spot next to where her knee was under the blanket, and smiled softly. "But I'm Illyrian, Nesta."

She knew that. "Well...I just don't think you should be giving so much to people who don't even want you there."

"There's no way," he said. "Think what the rebels will do if I step down."

"I don't understand. They're Night Court, aren't they? So aren't they loyal anyway? And aren't they pleased to have an Illyrian High Lord?"

"They don't see themselves as Night Court," he said. "They live amongst themselves. They are only Illyrian. So they don't like having an Illyrian High Lord. They like Night Court society about as much as you do," he added ruefully. His grin tugged downwards slightly as he mused, more to himself, she thought, "Actually, you do have quite a bit in common with them..."

"With the Illyrians warlords?" Nesta asked drily.

"Camp lords. We're not at war."

"Not at war yet, you said."

His fingers inched farther, and she leaned back as he began to rub one of the dimples in her knee from over the blanket. "Come with me."

He was still touching her. "Come with you where?"

"To a meeting."

She hadn't thought he would be able to convince her, but his pleading and a rare burst of curiosity on her part won out in the end. So after a morning of his teasing her that they were going to be late and her grumbling that it was so early, Nesta found herself at the entrance of a building in an Illyrian camp that looked very much like the one she and Cassian lived in.

"Lysander's the new camp lord," Cassian told her. "Relatively young. The old one...well. Not a fan of Rhys' or mine."

"Did you kill him?" she asked, half teasing, half genuine.

"What? No! I didn't kill him...and keep your voice down, if you're going to accuse me of political assassination."

"How'd he die?"

"We're not sure," Cassian admitted. "It might have been an accident. But probably not."

"Are you going to find out?"

"We are." He grinned at her.

Nesta scowled. "That's what I'm here to do? I thought you wanted me to sit next to you."

"You will. And add another healthy dose of fear while I interrogate."

"This is stupid," Nesta said, crossing her arms. "Don't you have a mind-reader on hand?"

"This is a new camp lord," he reminded her. "I want him to see me as his commander, not Rhys' lapdog who calls him in anytime things get rough."

She could appreciate that, at least. "And I'm your lapdog?"

She expected him to give her a wicked grin and say something stupid like, You're a wolf, but he only laughed and said, "No. Who would believe that? You're just here on an excursion."

"That's a big word."

"Oh, shut up. I need your help. All right?"

"Fine," she agreed, forcefully making her tone sound begrudging. "You don't think the new camp lord killed the old one?"

"I don't. But I could be wrong. Let's go see."

The building was not much nicer than the tents the Illyrian military had pitched during the war...and the people's attitude towards Nesta have not changed. Muttering greeted her when she entered the room at Cassian's side, and some of those religious hand gestures were thrown in her direction.

She stifled a scowl. She'd been living in Illyria for six months now. If she were going to unleash hellfire down upon them, wouldn't she have done it already?

Cassian didn't waste much time on introductions. On their part, that is. "This is your new commander's table?" He motioned for Nesta to sit down next to him.

Lysander cleared his throat. "I decided on a chain of command, yes."

He was nervous. That was...good? Because he was nervous about doing something without Cassian's permission first? But if Nesta were living here, she wouldn't like knowing that her camp lord was nervous when presenting his decisions.

Oh, she didn't know what she thought. She didn't really understand the politics before her and she honestly didn't care to.

The whole meeting seemed spectacularly boring to Nesta. Even things that should have been interesting—Cassian asking why no females had been chosen for the new commander's table, discussions of Illyrian separatists starting a fire in the middle of the camp—were not. She just...didn't care.

She didn't think much of it was interrogating, either. Until Cassian said, "It seems odd that an established camp lord, who was well-versed in aerial combat, fell to his death. Don't you think, Lady Nesta?"

It had been quite some time since she'd heard that made-up title. But she gave no indication. "I do," she said.

They all flinched at the sound of her voice.

Cassian ignored them, pretending like they were the only ones in the room, as he leaned back and said, "What's your theory?"

Nesta looked around. "Was he popular?"

"He was not."

"Hm." Nesta thought for a moment.

If Cassian had wanted a politician, he would have brought Rhysand.

So she didn't think up any veiled threats. Instead, she turned to Lysander, and asked, just as she had asked Cassian, "Did you kill him?"

Asking Cassian, though, had not been nearly so funny. There was no chorus of sharp breaths, no sputtering.

But the answer was the same—more or less.

"No, Lady!"

Ooh, he would've had to be quite young to look at her with that kind of fear. But it was still hard to tell with faeries, for her.

"I don't think he did it," Nesta said.

"Anybody else?" Cassian was looking only at her.

She studied them all carefully. There—two from Lysander's right. He was calling on his gods far too much for an honest male.

"Did you kill him?"

His brown face bleached. "I did not, Lady." There was, perhaps, less terror in his voice than in Lysander's, but that wasn't very impressive. Perhaps he did not kill the old camp lord, but he definitely knew who did.

"This doesn't strike me as a good commander's table," Nesta muttered to Cassian, who chuckled slightly.

"Lysander...and you...stay. The rest of you, take your leave."

It wasn't something that she hoped to do again, she thought to herself. She didn't particularly enjoy intimidating people; she didn't like to be around people in the first place. But it was for a good cause, she supposed. Tangentially working for the Night Court, but weeding out corruption, right?

And she couldn't deny it—she did enjoy the secretive grins Cassian kept shooting her way.

---

December 23 - 4 years after

Cassian doesn't mean to eavesdrop. Really. He just thinks, when he hears Nesta coming up to the door, that she'll appreciate his help with her coat. Walk her into the living room where they can go over the book she had given him.

But then he hears her say, "Zeyn."

He freezes. Is he—here to spend the night? Should he leave?

Footsteps away from the door, and a kiss.

"I missed you," he says.

"I missed you too. Thank you for your gifts. We loved them."

When had he given her a gift.

"Suppose they're asleep."

"You can see them tomorrow." She pauses. "How was Solstice here?"

"Same as always. Madam Sabina had the kids put on a dance show."

Nesta laughs. "I wonder what the routine was like."

"Oh, it's such a shame you missed it. I can only hope this routine is repeated an infinite amount of times at every single town fair, so you have a chance to see it."

"Fingers crossed."

She's not sending him away, but she doesn't seem to be inviting him in. He notices, too.

"He's here, isn't he?"

Zeyn's voice has changed. He's not cold, but he's certainly not warm.

Nesta's own voice is unapologetic. "He's my children's father, Zeyn."

"But what is he to you?"

Cassian holds his breath. He doesn't want to listen in anymore, but he's too in-tune to her voice. He'll hear her from anywhere in the house now.

"He's my children's father," she says again. "That's a lot, Zeyn."

"Come on, Nesta, you know what I mean."

He wishes he could see her face—well, no, he doesn't. He saw it earlier tonight. She's not ready. He knows that.

Finally, ever so soft, she says, "I don't know, all right?"

Zeyn waits another few seconds before saying, just as softly, "All right."

"I can't have...anything...right now," she says. "It's too much. I'm focusing on the children."

"You always focus on the children."

"Well, really, Zeyn, what the hell do you expect me to do?"

"No, it's not wrong. I'm just saying...do you really think if you take some time to figure out what you want you won't be focusing on them?"

Privately, Cassian agrees with him.

"I don't know."

Now she sounds tired. Cassian doubts she'll want to look at the album with him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Zeyn...all right?"

Another kiss. "All right. Good night."

Cassian is sitting on the couch in the living room by the time Nesta makes it to the door.

"Hey," she says, untying her boots as she sits down.

"Hey," he says, casual. "How was Amorette's?"

"Great," she says flatly. "How's the album?"

He can't stop the smile on his face. "Great."

She chuckles slightly and reaches for it. "Did you see the little handprints? When they wake up, we can ask them to hold their hands against it...I still make them do it sometimes...they've just gotten," Nesta pauses to sigh and smile slightly, "so big."

"Ollie was always the smallest?" he asks, looking at the prints.

"Yes. I guess he'll be bigger than Avery one day." She laughs. "Oh, wow...do you ever think about what they'll be like? What they'll look like? Nicky looks more like you every single day."

Cassian perks up. "Really? Do you think?"

She nods. "He's started losing his little cheeks already. They're really not toddlers anymore. Three and a half."

"Three and a half," he echoes.

Nesta flips some of the pages. "And the hair. Look, Avery's hair was so light when she was born. I thought she was going to be blond."

They sit for another hour or so, talking about their children. This time, when Nesta starts to doze off, she claps her hands together and announces she is going to bed.

Cassian doesn't mind in the least.

---

some of y’all might not be aware, but since last week was so tough for me, i turned to you. i asked for prompts to write things that might distract me, and i am so pleased that it distracted a lot of you. some of these are lpg-verse, some are not. all are short, and hopefully fun for you.

you can continue to come to me when things are hard for you. my writing will always be here to provide an escape, and i am always here to lend a listening ear.

don’t let the bad days win.

Chapter Eighteen

#nessian #acotar fic #acotar au #nesta archeron #nessian fic #<3 you all.

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