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Dec. 7th, 2010 08:40 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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merlin_holidaysTitle: trois (will all our sins be justified?)
Recipient:leviathans_moon
Author:emilyia
Rating: PG
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin/Morgana
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: none
Summary: There was room in their hearts for more than one.
Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone involved in this fest and my lovely beta, A. I hope the change of style isn't too off putting and you enjoy this, leviathans_moon; happy holidays!
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
"I think you're mad. I think you're all mad. People should marry for love, not convenience."
A smile; the sliver of one, but one all the same.
"I do, though. It doesn't mean he's the only one."
A reflection of the smile; slightly bitter, with downcast eyes, but hope shining through. Hopeless hope, but hope all the same, that he could be the other one, that it would be possible, and he had reason to remain within the walls in which they sat.
"He's the only one you can marry."
"You did not say that was what mattered."
Silence; the shake of a head, before it was broken by a door closing quietly. And broken again by the outpouring of unspoken questions which hung, heavy in the air, as she stared into the emptiness, lost between the space in what was right and what was held in her heart.
She looked like something from a fairy tale on her wedding day; ivory against ivory against ebony, with a single flash of blue and red, bright against the monochrome. He wore khaki, his blonde hair shining beneath his cap, and they looked the very picture of perfection. His father looked on in pride; she sought him out, as he looked sullenly at the ground and wished, not for the first time, that he could be the officer's son. That he could have been taller, stronger, less focused on books and more on hunting and riding and everything that was more appropriate for someone to marry as stunning a lady as she. But he was not the man that everyone expected her to marry; still, he is there, and after a moment of selfishness he forced his gaze upwards and offers her a smile. He heard the hesitation before she sealed her fate, and appreciated it; he could not ruin the day that he knew, in her heart, she had been looking forward to for so long. While it wasn't everything her heart desired, it was a part, and a part that had become inevitable the minute that she had become a ward of the Pendragon family.
"You know that this is not all she wants from life."
He desperately wanted to look away from the one he was jealous of, should despise for taking his place. But he knew it wasn't his place to take; not really, as much as he wished it to be.
"It is enough."
There was enough of a pause for him to believe that was all that was going to be said; but then he brushed his fingers against the hem of his not-quite-new suit. He couldn't deny the electricity that shot across his skin at the simple touch, unnoticed by the party goers indulging in the luxuries a Pendragon wedding afforded. In the end, there was only silence and a shake of the head to reply to.
"You know I cannot think about that."
"You have to think about that. It is the only way to stay sane."
Maybe it was then he realised they were in the same boat, both besotted with a woman who had a big enough heart to hold more than one person. But it was then that he had to walk away, because it was then that he realised maybe his was the same.
He went to war the next week; the revelry of the wedding completely forgotten amongst the march march march turn salute. His eyes fell upon the dark haired pair as he stepped onto the ship and with the sun setting behind them, it looked like there was a space between them, carved out in the perfect shape for him. But he had to do his duty, as she had done hers, and that meant leaving part of himself behind to fight for the greater good. And though his heart ached as his boots hit the deck of the ship, he knew that both would be waiting when he returned, if he returned. And even if he didn't return – even if he became one of the casualties of the war that raged outside their haven – he knew they would wait. Not from anything that had been said, but from minute touches, from looks stolen in the darkest of moments, from the silences which reigned so often in their home. Because it was their home, no matter what the paper said, no matter that they had only realised this so soon before the army seized one of them for its own.
"He has to come back."
Even now, even in his absence, he couldn't help but feel jealous. Even when she didn't say his name – as she was so careful not to – it still stung anew, a cut opened all over again, whenever he was mentioned.
"He will come back. For you."
She had a look that could cut glass, even through her sorrow. He flinched, afraid of a pinch or a slap, but nothing came, just a shake of her head.
"He will come back for us."
"As you say."
He didn't know if it was the truth. But he couldn't hold onto it, like she could, because he was ever afraid that his return would be not only the reopening of an old wound, but a gouging into the flesh over old scars which would ache all the more.
And they swayed in a silent room; maybe to music that existed only in their heads, maybe to the simultaneous beat of their hearts. And in that moment, there was no jealousy, no insecurity, just them and the way that they fit together no matter what was thrust between them. But then the music stopped, or maybe just they did, and a wedge shaped like a sapphire and diamond ring forced them apart. The fact that there was something missing was never felt more strongly than in that moment, and the noxious fumes of envy permeated their every fibre of being once more. But still there was a kiss; a stolen kiss, a hollow kiss. But it remained a promise for something more that they would never be able to deny, no matter what haunted the fitful sleep they managed, ever expectant that the shells could rain on them soon.
"He's hurting."
Her voice cracked; broke, no matter how she tried to keep it together, it was as poor an attempt as his to write and tell her the news of a war he could not.
"He will be home soon."
His comfort was meagre but offered, more now than he had managed in the past. He still felt the envy, the jealousy, but more he ached for a time where even if he was not chosen, he could be part of something that mattered, that loved.
"Home?"
"Home. Us."
He took her hand, and lay it over her heart, and lay his over hers, and offered a smile; an imitation of the carefree one he had managed before this time. And he became her strength to carry on then, no matter how long it had taken, and they managed together, even with a part of them across the seas.
He returned; no of course, no inevitably, just returned. He had been a good soldier, a good officer, but many good soldiers had fallen while he remained standing. He bore the marks of war; physical scars traced the curve of a thigh, and the mental ones much deeper. But more than that, the loss of friends, still keen in his mind, had taught him the fleeting frailty of life. Though he may search for the others lifetime after lifetime, in this one he had these two, and they were more important than anything else that the world could offer. As he stepped off the ship and was home, his smile may not have been as wide and his eyes not as bright, but he had the determination to make them work, no matter what stood in their way.
"We missed you."
They fell together when out of sight of the world; the ache that had remained from the moment he left fading within the comforts of physical contact. Their fingers brushed together as it had on the wedding day, and their eyes locked for a moment, and they smiled.
"I missed us."
When he spoke, it was like an incantation, a spell cast upon them, the reassurance that it would be alright, no matter what happened.
"Welcome home."
"To us."
And that was all that needed to be said; through time, it would become less like a confession and more like a prayer, a ward against the outside world. Because no matter the time and space that separated them, they would be us, and they would be safe and sacred and nothing could touch them.
And there they remained, and no longer were the questions and tears and feelings of loss. The war had opened all of their eyes to the truth; that there were things worth more than how the world saw you. And though outside those four walls, there may have been those who pass judgement and condemn, within them there is just home, and them. For they were they, and they were us, and they knew that some hearts were not built for just one other. They had waited through time for each other and in this moment, and in the future, they were content.
-end-
Recipient:
leviathans_moonAuthor:
emilyiaRating: PG
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin/Morgana
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: none
Summary: There was room in their hearts for more than one.
Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone involved in this fest and my lovely beta, A. I hope the change of style isn't too off putting and you enjoy this, leviathans_moon; happy holidays!
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
"I think you're mad. I think you're all mad. People should marry for love, not convenience."
A smile; the sliver of one, but one all the same.
"I do, though. It doesn't mean he's the only one."
A reflection of the smile; slightly bitter, with downcast eyes, but hope shining through. Hopeless hope, but hope all the same, that he could be the other one, that it would be possible, and he had reason to remain within the walls in which they sat.
"He's the only one you can marry."
"You did not say that was what mattered."
Silence; the shake of a head, before it was broken by a door closing quietly. And broken again by the outpouring of unspoken questions which hung, heavy in the air, as she stared into the emptiness, lost between the space in what was right and what was held in her heart.
She looked like something from a fairy tale on her wedding day; ivory against ivory against ebony, with a single flash of blue and red, bright against the monochrome. He wore khaki, his blonde hair shining beneath his cap, and they looked the very picture of perfection. His father looked on in pride; she sought him out, as he looked sullenly at the ground and wished, not for the first time, that he could be the officer's son. That he could have been taller, stronger, less focused on books and more on hunting and riding and everything that was more appropriate for someone to marry as stunning a lady as she. But he was not the man that everyone expected her to marry; still, he is there, and after a moment of selfishness he forced his gaze upwards and offers her a smile. He heard the hesitation before she sealed her fate, and appreciated it; he could not ruin the day that he knew, in her heart, she had been looking forward to for so long. While it wasn't everything her heart desired, it was a part, and a part that had become inevitable the minute that she had become a ward of the Pendragon family.
"You know that this is not all she wants from life."
He desperately wanted to look away from the one he was jealous of, should despise for taking his place. But he knew it wasn't his place to take; not really, as much as he wished it to be.
"It is enough."
There was enough of a pause for him to believe that was all that was going to be said; but then he brushed his fingers against the hem of his not-quite-new suit. He couldn't deny the electricity that shot across his skin at the simple touch, unnoticed by the party goers indulging in the luxuries a Pendragon wedding afforded. In the end, there was only silence and a shake of the head to reply to.
"You know I cannot think about that."
"You have to think about that. It is the only way to stay sane."
Maybe it was then he realised they were in the same boat, both besotted with a woman who had a big enough heart to hold more than one person. But it was then that he had to walk away, because it was then that he realised maybe his was the same.
He went to war the next week; the revelry of the wedding completely forgotten amongst the march march march turn salute. His eyes fell upon the dark haired pair as he stepped onto the ship and with the sun setting behind them, it looked like there was a space between them, carved out in the perfect shape for him. But he had to do his duty, as she had done hers, and that meant leaving part of himself behind to fight for the greater good. And though his heart ached as his boots hit the deck of the ship, he knew that both would be waiting when he returned, if he returned. And even if he didn't return – even if he became one of the casualties of the war that raged outside their haven – he knew they would wait. Not from anything that had been said, but from minute touches, from looks stolen in the darkest of moments, from the silences which reigned so often in their home. Because it was their home, no matter what the paper said, no matter that they had only realised this so soon before the army seized one of them for its own.
"He has to come back."
Even now, even in his absence, he couldn't help but feel jealous. Even when she didn't say his name – as she was so careful not to – it still stung anew, a cut opened all over again, whenever he was mentioned.
"He will come back. For you."
She had a look that could cut glass, even through her sorrow. He flinched, afraid of a pinch or a slap, but nothing came, just a shake of her head.
"He will come back for us."
"As you say."
He didn't know if it was the truth. But he couldn't hold onto it, like she could, because he was ever afraid that his return would be not only the reopening of an old wound, but a gouging into the flesh over old scars which would ache all the more.
And they swayed in a silent room; maybe to music that existed only in their heads, maybe to the simultaneous beat of their hearts. And in that moment, there was no jealousy, no insecurity, just them and the way that they fit together no matter what was thrust between them. But then the music stopped, or maybe just they did, and a wedge shaped like a sapphire and diamond ring forced them apart. The fact that there was something missing was never felt more strongly than in that moment, and the noxious fumes of envy permeated their every fibre of being once more. But still there was a kiss; a stolen kiss, a hollow kiss. But it remained a promise for something more that they would never be able to deny, no matter what haunted the fitful sleep they managed, ever expectant that the shells could rain on them soon.
"He's hurting."
Her voice cracked; broke, no matter how she tried to keep it together, it was as poor an attempt as his to write and tell her the news of a war he could not.
"He will be home soon."
His comfort was meagre but offered, more now than he had managed in the past. He still felt the envy, the jealousy, but more he ached for a time where even if he was not chosen, he could be part of something that mattered, that loved.
"Home?"
"Home. Us."
He took her hand, and lay it over her heart, and lay his over hers, and offered a smile; an imitation of the carefree one he had managed before this time. And he became her strength to carry on then, no matter how long it had taken, and they managed together, even with a part of them across the seas.
He returned; no of course, no inevitably, just returned. He had been a good soldier, a good officer, but many good soldiers had fallen while he remained standing. He bore the marks of war; physical scars traced the curve of a thigh, and the mental ones much deeper. But more than that, the loss of friends, still keen in his mind, had taught him the fleeting frailty of life. Though he may search for the others lifetime after lifetime, in this one he had these two, and they were more important than anything else that the world could offer. As he stepped off the ship and was home, his smile may not have been as wide and his eyes not as bright, but he had the determination to make them work, no matter what stood in their way.
"We missed you."
They fell together when out of sight of the world; the ache that had remained from the moment he left fading within the comforts of physical contact. Their fingers brushed together as it had on the wedding day, and their eyes locked for a moment, and they smiled.
"I missed us."
When he spoke, it was like an incantation, a spell cast upon them, the reassurance that it would be alright, no matter what happened.
"Welcome home."
"To us."
And that was all that needed to be said; through time, it would become less like a confession and more like a prayer, a ward against the outside world. Because no matter the time and space that separated them, they would be us, and they would be safe and sacred and nothing could touch them.
And there they remained, and no longer were the questions and tears and feelings of loss. The war had opened all of their eyes to the truth; that there were things worth more than how the world saw you. And though outside those four walls, there may have been those who pass judgement and condemn, within them there is just home, and them. For they were they, and they were us, and they knew that some hearts were not built for just one other. They had waited through time for each other and in this moment, and in the future, they were content.
-end-
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