Day 1
Dear Hunith,
your son has safely reached Camelot, which I think is most unfortunate. I am plagued with questions over your reasoning for sending him here. He's betrayed his secret with me five seconds through the door of my apartments; had there been a patient there, I would be writing you for arrangements for his remains. He also seems, from bits of our conversation, unaware of his father's identity but that seems too odd to be true to me, considering you of all people should know very well what sleeps underneath the castle.
I shall try to keep his as safe as possible, but please, call him back home. My heart could hardly take much more of this,
Gaius
Day 2
Dear Hunith,
Your menace of a son is in jail.
Quick sketch of Merlin in Disney's Sword in The Stone style! Haven't done any other styles in a while this was so fun
no more media analysis until we agree that all art is a sublimation of the desire to ritually sacrifice the king. yeah all of it. yeah even cars 2 and stuff
Arthur & Merlin or Arthur/Merlin (you decide) | Teen & Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 500
Arthur Pendragon Returns | Angst | Language Barrier | Sad Ending
For @merlinmicrofic with the prompt "frozen"
Arthur returns but Merlin finds he can no longer understand him.
“You can't understand me, so I will say this-” “I’m sorry I couldn't stay the same.” “If I was afforded the choice, Merlin, if there were only one thing left of my kingdom, one soul, it would be you.” “I've lived so long, I've lived too long.” “So please.” “You deserve someone who could’ve held on for you.” “I need you to understand.”
☾ ☾ ☾
A snowstorm, a series of blue arrowheads and an infernal swirl on the television, arrived a few days before the winter solstice. The dead silence, the disappeared roads and finally, the sudden interruption to the electricity called to Merlin’s slow, ancient mind the way the world had once been, quieter, colder.
It was then that he felt Arthur’s impending return, unmistakable, a change in the seismograph.
The lake was solid and as blue as the dawn sky above it.
The ice was singing like steel cables and whale song. He had waited here many times before, mad with certainty and loneliness that this was the day.
But this was the day.
The song rose in tempo, and in a sudden crack, a familiar boat.
Merlin stumbled forward, fell through where the ice was thin and before he knew it, the once king, the future king, was gathering him, shivering, in his arms.
Merlin clutched onto him and in his ear Arthur said-
What were these words? Hard consonants so wholly unfamiliar that Merlin wondered if he had ever understood them, if the same sounds had ever passed his own lips. Emotion broke every other syllable, he could understand the utter relief in them, but the words themselves?
“I don't- Arthur I don't understand.”
***
Before they could understand each other without words, but no longer, not when there was so much to say.
Merlin tried, but his eroded memory had too long forsaken learning. The weeks went on, and in the tense and then pleading sounds that Arthur made, Merlin understood two things: Arthur had been frozen and had emerged from the lake perfectly intact; Merlin however could not breach the surface of his own stagnant pool.
Arthur continued his noises, his hard consonants and the occasional gnashing of his teeth, and Merlin despaired.
***
It wasn’t fair, Merlin knew. Time meant denial was robbed from Arthur’s grieving. Now Merlin was asking him to bury understanding along with their friends. Instead he piled all of that denial onto Merlin’s unyielding tongue.
One day in the dusty, moldy space that Merlin resided in, that he struggled to keep in order with time rushing past him as it did, Arthur snapped. He seized his arms, his eyes wild, wet.
“You’re not trying!” he cried, angry, in that language Merlin no longer possessed.
“I don't- I’m trying.”
“You're all that's left.”
“I’m sorry, Arthur.”
Sometimes a word would prick Merlin’s ears, and he would hear Welsh, Latin, or else it would stir something in his long memory, but it was recognition without comprehension. The words transformed and melded together, evading his grasp.
“You can't understand me, so I will say this-”
“I’m sorry I couldn't stay the same.”
“If I was afforded the choice, Merlin, if there were only one thing left of my kingdom, one soul, it would be you.”
“I've lived so long. I've lived too long.”
“So please.”
“You deserve someone who could’ve held on for you.”
“I need you to understand.”
Ahhhh @mythandmagic!! I am shook, humbled, thankful, amazed, all the things!! Look at them! This is so perfect, the way they look, the stars 😭❤️?! THANK YOU for this and for all of your lovely comments on Ao3!
Seriously, I have been rotating this story for days, even made some picrews about it (courtesy of ElenaA's Kiss Crew, beloved).
Anyway, please go read and kudos and comment and show her some love because she deserves it.
I'll never drop my sword.
scenes from my recent animation.
· Moth, 2020 - oil on linen. · Queen Anne’s Lace, 2019 - oil on canvas. · Orchard in Winter, 2019 - oil on canvas. — Miles Cleveland Goodwin (American, b.1980)
https://www.milesclevelandgoodwin.com/
pirating movies by seeing them in tumblr gifs and basing my own story around them
She/Her | 31 | Herbal Tea EnthusiastInterested in: hurt/comfort, fairytale retellings and folkloreCurrently down an Arthurian rabbitholeLeMightyWorrier on Ao3
296 posts