Challenge: Never Have I Ever
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Summary
“Morgana,” he says, and his eyes are hungry, sorrow-bright; there are circles the color of day-old bruises under them. He looks harder than the last time she saw him—thinner, sharper, tempered like steel. He is a soldier now too, and she remembers the laughing and inept boy she knew in Camelot, muddling through life by his raw magic and his awkward charm.
“Have you come to join us?” she asks, smiling her best seduction at him. She knows he hasn’t; he’s Arthur’s man, still and forever, probably even beyond death.
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Ygraine sits on a rock by the water’s edge and pulls off her shoes and stockings one at a time, and Nimueh rolls her eyes and smiles. “You live and die inside, if you are fortunate,” she says, as if picking up a conversation they’ve only just left off, and it takes Ygraine a moment to track it back to the question of the land. “Men die in battle and it remembers. Sometimes there’s a child born on the road. But it’s hard, with so much of what you do hidden. Look at you now.”
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Morgana programs the order, and when she does her sleeve falls back just enough that Elena can see a curl of gold beneath it. It could be jewelry, of course, but she doesn’t think it is. The daughter or—? question of earlier bubbles up in her mind again, but this time she finishes it prisoner.
Series
- Part 1 of Camelot Station ’verse
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Summary
Merlin’s expression doesn’t change. “Gwen doesn’t know how to betray anyone.” He says it like he’d say water runs downhill, and it’s true, she knows it’s true because if anyone raised in Uther’s Camelot is pure and good and true it’s Gwen, but…
“I don’t think she can help it,” Morgana says, and thinks of the rich deep red of roses in Lancelot’s hands, the sunlight off his sword. “I think it hurts her more than she can bear, but there’s nothing she can do that will make it better, so it tears her in half and poisons Arthur and—the other.” Somehow she’s reluctant to tell Merlin who the other is. It’s laughable: Lancelot doesn’t need her protection. “It ruins everything. I think there are people who will hate her for it, or blame her for everything that happens, but Merlin”—she’s gripping his arm, desperate to make him see—“it isn’t her fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault, it’s just horrible, and it needs to be stopped.”
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Elena is really not sure why they’re currently tangled together on Vivian’s pink satin duvet with Vivian’s hands buried in her hair and her own hands sliding under the hem of Vivian’s blouse, but she’s sure there’s a good reason. Probably there’s even a reason that doesn’t involve her snapping halfway through Vivian’s umpteenth monologue on how incredibly dull the boys here are and flinging herself across the room.
It’s…going better than she was expecting, which is sort of unsettling.
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She disentangles herself from the wires and says, “Is there any chance the error is here on Camelot?” There’s a thread of metal still wrapped around her wrist, the curl of copper bright against her skin, and he stares at it for a second until she brushes it away and looks back at him.
“That was the first thing we checked,” he says, and she sighs and pushes her safety glasses up over her hair and starts packing her workbag.
Series
- Part 2 of Camelot Station ’verse
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Summary
She’s taken to telling the kinds of secrets she once might have told her closest friends to Excalibur. The ever-present thrum of magic inside it reminds her there is a world beyond this lake, with people in it who understand her. “I’m lonely,” she whispers, and then—because that’s not right, is it, not complete; it’s true but right now as the sun rises and turns the world golden-warm and awakening it isn’t companionship she craves—“I want.”
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“Well, we didn’t…eat any of it.” Arthur finds himself staring at Merlin’s mouth, which, admittedly, he has noticed before—he isn’t blind—but which has certainly never held his attention in such a way. It would be completely unsuitable.
“You don’t have to,” Merlin says, dragging his eyes up to Arthur’s face, and they’re dark, the pupils blown too wide for the afternoon sunlight, and Arthur feels their focus like a caress.
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Summary
There’s magic wrapping around her, heat blooming through her as it tightens. She stands there lost in it for a moment: nothing like what she had with Gwen, all gentleness—want and urgency, yes, but always tender—this is something harsh and raw, something she could remake as magic if she wanted, something she could use to bring down a storm—
—but the isle is well-watered, and in the moonlight Nimueh is more than beautiful.
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Here they have time, though; here they have nothing but time, and they’ve used it frequently—but never, Merlin thinks, quite as well as they could. Well. That can be corrected.
Freya’s mouth tastes fresh like lake water, wild like magic. Neither of them are quite human any more; she’s something like a goddess, a force of nature, and he’s—what?—Arthur’s, and Albion’s, and hers. He doesn’t know what that makes him and he doesn’t care, because when she settles into his arms she’s warm and solid, and what was and what will be can fade from his mind.
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Summary
Merlin has taken over Arthur’s thoughts since he came to Camelot. He’s stubborn and insubordinate and disrespectful and the worst manservant Arthur has ever had—and he’s a sorcerer and genuinely seems to think that Arthur hasn’t figured this out yet, which means he insults the royal intelligence every time he pretends that the latest thing he did was pure coincidence and not him risking his own life to save Arthur’s—and he’s stupidly brave and charming and kind and rather attractive in his own odd way. Arthur is thoroughly sick of the way that he thinks about Merlin all the time. Merlin is, after all, an entirely unsuitable person to be taking up so much of his attention.
Series
- Part 1 of You Do Something to Me
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Summary
She drops the lavender thing on a table. A set of stays peeks out between the crumpled layers of cloth. “Morgana gave this to me to wear so I look suitable, but I can’t do any of the laces myself, and she’s terribly busy overseeing the packing, and I thought you might possibly be able to help.”
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Summary
She’s gotten better since the last time they sparred together, much better, and Arthur is actually needing to work in order to keep the upper hand. It’s unnatural. Morgana moves like she’s dancing—no, she moves like flame, quick and fluid and lovely with the sword flashing bright in her hands, and Arthur realizes to his horror that he’s getting hot watching her.
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I am Excalibur, the sword says, and you look very strong and safe.
The stone feels even warmer. I am a stone, it replies, wishing it had a glamorous way to introduce itself.
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Summary
He’s not too tired to notice the warmth of Merlin’s hands, just a breath away from his skin. He’s pretty sure he could be dead and still not too tired to notice. Merlin removes Arthur’s shirt and then turns his full concentration to Arthur’s breeches, head bowed but unmistakeable—the curve of his skull, the shape of his ear could never be anyone else’s.
Series
- Part 2 of You Do Something to Me