Happy Merlin Holidays, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mustbethursday3!
Dec. 17th, 2010 06:16 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
merlin-hols.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
merlin_holidaysTitle: She Knows
Recipient:mustbethursday3
Author:purely_distel
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Arthur/Gwen
Word Count: 1596
Warnings: brainwashed!Gwen/dark!Gwen, highlight to read: *character death*
Summary: It is easy to love Arthur Pendragon in the safety of darkness and secrecy. Loving him any other way, though, brings nothing but pain and death. She knows that now.
Author's Notes:
God, where did this come from? I started out writing a modern AU story with Merlin dragging Gwen to a medieval meet-up in the middle of December. That story involved the words “She was going to kill Merlin Emrys. With men's undies. Slowly.” and then I realised if I wanted finish it, it would turn into a 30.000-odd words story and I simply did not have the time so I needed to change. I went over your prompts again and read “Dark!Gwen” and … yeah, this is what came out of THAT particular plotbunny … it's more sad than dark, though.
ALL my thanks go to my super-fast-and-super-awesome beta D who tackled this little piece and shaped it and told me what was wrong with it. THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE!
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
The night is dark and the rain that is pitching down all around them is cold and harsh against their skin. The front roof of the small house hardly gives them any shelter, no matter how close to the clay wall they stand.
“And you're sure it's going to work?” whispers a voice. Harsh, demanding. Used to giving orders and not to receiving them.
“Yes, my Queen. I am confident it will.”
Hands pressed together in a way of sharing much. Too much. Giving comfort, underlining orders, sketching worry.
“Go now and don't worry about the knights. They have orders to let you pass. Be here by sunrise. Don't listen to what they tell you.”
Water droplets fly when the other girl shakes her head.
“I won't.” She turns around, the hood of her cloak a feeble protection to the autumn storms. She knows what she has to do. She knows what it means. She knows she will change the future. She is prepared.
“And Gwen!” The voice calls once more. Not as harsh, not as demanding. She is already halfway down the muddy road, can hardly make out the silhouette of her lady.
She looks back nonetheless.
“Come back to me.”
It takes her hours to find them. Morgana gave her directions from a vision but they were sketchy at best. She had hoped that Arthur had left clues behind for her. Some sort of overly-romantic message should she try to find him even after all these months. As if she ever would. At least not for the reasons he would believe.
She is shivering and cold when she spots them. A small group of men, huddled together around an even smaller fire. It is pathetic, really. The saviours of Albion she has heard people call them and she has to stop herself from outright laughing. If only the poor, dreaming, mundane townsfolk could see them now. Their saviours. At least she had had the foresight to cut her strings, to cut whatever attachments she used to have.
Too many a time had loving Arthur brought her close to dying. Too many people she loved long before the prince had died because of her foolishness. She was a fool no longer. Morgana had shown her as much. Had shown her how wrong she had been. So she had let Arthur go.
She had let Merlin go, too. Though closing him off from her heart had proven more difficult. Hadn't it been him that had been there, always, whenever she needed someone? Still. He had made his decision, he could not be helped any more.
“Help!” She croaks and doesn't even have to fake it. She is shaking badly by now, can hardly feel her finders and feet as she more slips and stumbles than walks closer to the fire. Still, her mind is calm. On her task. She knows what she has to do.
When Arthur storms towards her, his face twisted in shock, surprise, worry and something else she dare not voice even in her head, she lets herself fall in his arms, clings to him like she used to back when she was weak. Merlin is there by his side, his unwavering happiness, warmth and optimism that he is doing the right thing throws her for a moment. But a moment only.
By the time she is brought into the circle of man, all of them making a fuss like she is Queen not maid, her focus is clear, her goal is not far from her. She knows she has little time but things need to be done. She needs to play her part.
They wrap her in blankets and stock up the fire and she is given hot water with calming herbs and watery stew while the men break into an impromptu celebration that, thankfully, tires them out quickly. It is late and she needs time. Time to perform what she came to do.
She has hardly said a word. Only nodding and smiling when being addressed and she knows it worries Arthur and she is glad to know she can still read him like an open book. She knows him, she knows what he wants, what he feels and what he wishes. He still trusts her, he still believes in her. In them.
If only he knew that his faith would be his downfall.
He once tries to ask her what is wrong. 'Later' she tells him and he asks no further. And then it is later and everyone is falling asleep and she turns and motions for him to join her, to follow her. And of course he does, like she knew he would.
She takes his hand when they leave the warmth of the fire. Traces the familiar feel of his skin with her thumb, leading him away into the dark. She needs the dark for this. Why she can't really say, she just knows she does.
“I missed you ...” she whispers once the trees and the darkness embrace them like a silent blanket and she turns around and touches his face. Her hands still know the way, know the feel of his strong jaw and soft lips.
She remembers why she loved him once. Because it is easy to love Arthur Pendragon in the safety of darkness and secrecy. Loving him any other way, though, brings nothing but pain and death. She knows that now. She knows what will happen if she doesn't do what she has to, she felt it herself. She knows because Morgana and Morgause made her see. She fought it, in the beginning. Promised she was loyal to Arthur and no one else. But times have come and gone in between and Gwen was shown how wrong her loyalties were. Morgana made her see, made her remember what being loyal to the old Pendragon ways, what loving Arthur, what believing in him, can bring. She cannot let anyone else feel her pain for she knows now, was shown by ways of magic, that things in Camelot cannot change unless she helps Morgana in her cause.
Morgana is Queen now, as is her rightful place. She is the Queen Camelot needs, the Queen Camelot deserves. With her and Morgause at her side, Morgana will bring glory to the kingdom. Freedom to the people, prosperity to the lands. Gwen knows. Yes she knows. Morgause made sure to show her.
Before he can ask the million questions she can feel on his lips, she seals them with her own. She feels him sigh, nearly sag with relief and, again, she is sure she figured right. She knew she would get him this way. She knew because she had been the same.
But not any more she reminds herself, orders herself. Never again.
She needs to push this along, time is running out. She needs him open, vulnerable, believing her every word and so she kisses him deeper, her lips, her tongue, her teeth following the old routine easily, without hesitation. Too easily?
She presses against him, her clothes still damp, clinging to her body and she can feel his hands. Tracing, searching, exploring, leaving excited explosions in their wake. Giving her own hands permission to leave the path she set them on, to remember what it meant to feel him. To be close to him, to love him.
She jumps back, practically rips herself from him and stands gasping in the dark, the sound of water, and the night life clearing her head and she knows how stupid she has been. Stupid to ever believe cutting Arthur out is easy. How could it ever be when everything between them was anything but? And she hates herself. Hates herself for still being weak. For still feeling for him. For still loving him.
“Guinevere ...” his voice is worried, open … vulnerable.
Now, do it now! a voice yells loud inside her head and she recognises the voice. The voice is strength and power but also warmth and home and so Guinevere closes her eyes and does what she came to do.
Later, she does not remember if it was just rain that ran down her cheeks or tears. Tears of loss, of pain, of love. But she did it. She told him what she had practised to say. But all the pain and the shaking in her voice was real and not something she had to force herself to.
Later, she tells herself she was just exhausted. Overwhelmed by her victory, of course she was shaking.
Later, while she watches Arthur's dead body being burned next to that of Merlin. Of Leon, of Gwaine, of Elyan, of Lancelot and of Percival, she tells herself that her trembling hands have nothing to do with the death of good people.
Later, when the fires die down, she tells herself it was the right thing, to tell him. To lead him, to lead them all into a trap that would cost their lives.
She tells herself she has what she wanted now. She is strong now, no longer weak and fearing for those she loves. She did the right thing.
Much later, when Camelot's village is a wasteland and the castle she calls home lays in ruins. When Morgana and Morgause have fled and left her behind and the name of Arthur Pendragon is nearly forgotten in a haze of pain and suffering … only then does she realise there is no one left for her to love.
~ finis
I WISH YOU A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS TIME, LOVE! YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU LOTS AND YOUR AMAZING BRAIN EVEN MORE! DON'T EVER CHANGE!
Recipient:
mustbethursday3Author:
purely_distelRating: PG-13
Pairings: Arthur/Gwen
Word Count: 1596
Warnings: brainwashed!Gwen/dark!Gwen, highlight to read: *character death*
Summary: It is easy to love Arthur Pendragon in the safety of darkness and secrecy. Loving him any other way, though, brings nothing but pain and death. She knows that now.
Author's Notes:
God, where did this come from? I started out writing a modern AU story with Merlin dragging Gwen to a medieval meet-up in the middle of December. That story involved the words “She was going to kill Merlin Emrys. With men's undies. Slowly.” and then I realised if I wanted finish it, it would turn into a 30.000-odd words story and I simply did not have the time so I needed to change. I went over your prompts again and read “Dark!Gwen” and … yeah, this is what came out of THAT particular plotbunny … it's more sad than dark, though.
ALL my thanks go to my super-fast-and-super-awesome beta D who tackled this little piece and shaped it and told me what was wrong with it. THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE!
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
The night is dark and the rain that is pitching down all around them is cold and harsh against their skin. The front roof of the small house hardly gives them any shelter, no matter how close to the clay wall they stand.
“And you're sure it's going to work?” whispers a voice. Harsh, demanding. Used to giving orders and not to receiving them.
“Yes, my Queen. I am confident it will.”
Hands pressed together in a way of sharing much. Too much. Giving comfort, underlining orders, sketching worry.
“Go now and don't worry about the knights. They have orders to let you pass. Be here by sunrise. Don't listen to what they tell you.”
Water droplets fly when the other girl shakes her head.
“I won't.” She turns around, the hood of her cloak a feeble protection to the autumn storms. She knows what she has to do. She knows what it means. She knows she will change the future. She is prepared.
“And Gwen!” The voice calls once more. Not as harsh, not as demanding. She is already halfway down the muddy road, can hardly make out the silhouette of her lady.
She looks back nonetheless.
“Come back to me.”
It takes her hours to find them. Morgana gave her directions from a vision but they were sketchy at best. She had hoped that Arthur had left clues behind for her. Some sort of overly-romantic message should she try to find him even after all these months. As if she ever would. At least not for the reasons he would believe.
She is shivering and cold when she spots them. A small group of men, huddled together around an even smaller fire. It is pathetic, really. The saviours of Albion she has heard people call them and she has to stop herself from outright laughing. If only the poor, dreaming, mundane townsfolk could see them now. Their saviours. At least she had had the foresight to cut her strings, to cut whatever attachments she used to have.
Too many a time had loving Arthur brought her close to dying. Too many people she loved long before the prince had died because of her foolishness. She was a fool no longer. Morgana had shown her as much. Had shown her how wrong she had been. So she had let Arthur go.
She had let Merlin go, too. Though closing him off from her heart had proven more difficult. Hadn't it been him that had been there, always, whenever she needed someone? Still. He had made his decision, he could not be helped any more.
“Help!” She croaks and doesn't even have to fake it. She is shaking badly by now, can hardly feel her finders and feet as she more slips and stumbles than walks closer to the fire. Still, her mind is calm. On her task. She knows what she has to do.
When Arthur storms towards her, his face twisted in shock, surprise, worry and something else she dare not voice even in her head, she lets herself fall in his arms, clings to him like she used to back when she was weak. Merlin is there by his side, his unwavering happiness, warmth and optimism that he is doing the right thing throws her for a moment. But a moment only.
By the time she is brought into the circle of man, all of them making a fuss like she is Queen not maid, her focus is clear, her goal is not far from her. She knows she has little time but things need to be done. She needs to play her part.
They wrap her in blankets and stock up the fire and she is given hot water with calming herbs and watery stew while the men break into an impromptu celebration that, thankfully, tires them out quickly. It is late and she needs time. Time to perform what she came to do.
She has hardly said a word. Only nodding and smiling when being addressed and she knows it worries Arthur and she is glad to know she can still read him like an open book. She knows him, she knows what he wants, what he feels and what he wishes. He still trusts her, he still believes in her. In them.
If only he knew that his faith would be his downfall.
He once tries to ask her what is wrong. 'Later' she tells him and he asks no further. And then it is later and everyone is falling asleep and she turns and motions for him to join her, to follow her. And of course he does, like she knew he would.
She takes his hand when they leave the warmth of the fire. Traces the familiar feel of his skin with her thumb, leading him away into the dark. She needs the dark for this. Why she can't really say, she just knows she does.
“I missed you ...” she whispers once the trees and the darkness embrace them like a silent blanket and she turns around and touches his face. Her hands still know the way, know the feel of his strong jaw and soft lips.
She remembers why she loved him once. Because it is easy to love Arthur Pendragon in the safety of darkness and secrecy. Loving him any other way, though, brings nothing but pain and death. She knows that now. She knows what will happen if she doesn't do what she has to, she felt it herself. She knows because Morgana and Morgause made her see. She fought it, in the beginning. Promised she was loyal to Arthur and no one else. But times have come and gone in between and Gwen was shown how wrong her loyalties were. Morgana made her see, made her remember what being loyal to the old Pendragon ways, what loving Arthur, what believing in him, can bring. She cannot let anyone else feel her pain for she knows now, was shown by ways of magic, that things in Camelot cannot change unless she helps Morgana in her cause.
Morgana is Queen now, as is her rightful place. She is the Queen Camelot needs, the Queen Camelot deserves. With her and Morgause at her side, Morgana will bring glory to the kingdom. Freedom to the people, prosperity to the lands. Gwen knows. Yes she knows. Morgause made sure to show her.
Before he can ask the million questions she can feel on his lips, she seals them with her own. She feels him sigh, nearly sag with relief and, again, she is sure she figured right. She knew she would get him this way. She knew because she had been the same.
But not any more she reminds herself, orders herself. Never again.
She needs to push this along, time is running out. She needs him open, vulnerable, believing her every word and so she kisses him deeper, her lips, her tongue, her teeth following the old routine easily, without hesitation. Too easily?
She presses against him, her clothes still damp, clinging to her body and she can feel his hands. Tracing, searching, exploring, leaving excited explosions in their wake. Giving her own hands permission to leave the path she set them on, to remember what it meant to feel him. To be close to him, to love him.
She jumps back, practically rips herself from him and stands gasping in the dark, the sound of water, and the night life clearing her head and she knows how stupid she has been. Stupid to ever believe cutting Arthur out is easy. How could it ever be when everything between them was anything but? And she hates herself. Hates herself for still being weak. For still feeling for him. For still loving him.
“Guinevere ...” his voice is worried, open … vulnerable.
Now, do it now! a voice yells loud inside her head and she recognises the voice. The voice is strength and power but also warmth and home and so Guinevere closes her eyes and does what she came to do.
Later, she does not remember if it was just rain that ran down her cheeks or tears. Tears of loss, of pain, of love. But she did it. She told him what she had practised to say. But all the pain and the shaking in her voice was real and not something she had to force herself to.
Later, she tells herself she was just exhausted. Overwhelmed by her victory, of course she was shaking.
Later, while she watches Arthur's dead body being burned next to that of Merlin. Of Leon, of Gwaine, of Elyan, of Lancelot and of Percival, she tells herself that her trembling hands have nothing to do with the death of good people.
Later, when the fires die down, she tells herself it was the right thing, to tell him. To lead him, to lead them all into a trap that would cost their lives.
She tells herself she has what she wanted now. She is strong now, no longer weak and fearing for those she loves. She did the right thing.
Much later, when Camelot's village is a wasteland and the castle she calls home lays in ruins. When Morgana and Morgause have fled and left her behind and the name of Arthur Pendragon is nearly forgotten in a haze of pain and suffering … only then does she realise there is no one left for her to love.
~ finis
I WISH YOU A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS TIME, LOVE! YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU LOTS AND YOUR AMAZING BRAIN EVEN MORE! DON'T EVER CHANGE!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-12-20 11:08 pm (UTC)This was wonderful. painfully wonderful. I love how you have a dark premonition right from the beginning, but it's written in a way so that you either don't really except the ending or think that Gwen might eventually change her mind. very powerful.
and i really like the idea that she didn't actually kill him, but took away his hope and that's why he died.
the ending is painful, because everyone lost so much, but I love these sort of endings, this was really gorgeous. thank you for writing it.