#and morgana wrongfully assumes it's because she has a weapon trained on him as if that would stop him

[arthurslesbian]

despite all morgana did, arthur never went on the offensive against her or ever tried to attack her :((

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - 1100 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  2,494

Warnings:  Enemies to lovers, so general hatred, reader starts out as a Gumm-Gumm spy, angst, death, pain, and later torture, but i don’t think there’s any swearing

A/N:  So, this has been my brain baby for a while.  As of current, I’m working on the eighth chapter, so there’s definitely more to come.  I’ve worked really hard on it, and I’m super proud of myself for sticking with it (my attention span is real short, so this is a miracle.)  Thank you so much for reading, you don’t know how much it means to me.  Also thank you to @mydouxie​ for asking for this super politely, you’re awesome and also the reason I’m putting it out tonight.  Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the fic.

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“Douxie?  Doux, come on, you’d better wake up right now.  Wake up.  Wake up!  Douxie, don’t do this, please,”  You begged, leaning over the body of your closest friend, and former worst enemy.

“Oh god,” you choked, “No, no, no, no, please… please don’t leave me,” There was silence,  And then you began to sob.  

The voices of your friends rung out around you, but you were too tired to decipher what they said and too numb to care.

This couldn’t be happening.  It just wasn’t possible.  Hisirdoux Casperan had been in your life for almost as long as you could remember.  There were times when he had been your life.  There was no way he was just gone.  But he was.  And it was killing you on the inside.  You’d been through a lot in the past nine-hundred-and-nineteen years.  You’d lost friends, suffered wars, witnessed pandemics, and been tortured.  You’d stayed strong through all of it, but this?  Seeing your best friend, dead on the ground?  This broke you.

There was once a time, long ago, when you would have celebrated.  Centuries in the past, when you were young and naive, and so absolutely stupid.  It was the beginning for you, and for him, and for this fic.

So, you tuned out your mourning friends and Archie’s sorrowful yowls, and you let yourself melt back into the past.

--

It was sometime in the twelfth century.  

King Arthur was on the throne, ruling his kingdom with an iron fist and a hatred for all magical beings.

And you were a witch.

This led to a childhood of abandonment issues, poverty, and self-hate.  You, and everyone around you,  thought you a freak; a monster.  There is no need to say that you had a rather nasty upbringing.  You’d experienced some of the worst things humanity had to offer, so the obvious next step was to turn against the humans and join the force set to destroy them.

When you were eight years old, you pledged allegiance to Gunmar, offering your services as a witch, and a spy.

Life with the Gumm-Gumms wasn’t much better than life on the streets, but at the very least you received some basic training where your magic was concerned.  The more you practiced, the stronger you became, the better asset you were, the less likely your death was.  It was simple enough.  The knowledge that your strength was the only thing keeping you from dying a horrible death was a fantastic motivator, and it really helped you rise through the ranks of the Gumm-Gumm forces.

Maybe a little too far.

Eleven years after you’d joined Gunmar, he summoned you to the arena.  You were in a panic, not knowing what he wanted, you just assumed that he wanted to kill you and you were absolutely going to die.

Upon entering the arena, however, you were not brutally murdered, which came as a bit of a shock to you.  You had no time to process this, however, when the king troll spoke your name, calling you to the center of the arena. You walked to the middle of the gigantic stone room, kneeling on the cold floor before your master.

“You’ve done well for our kind (L/N),” he bellowed, “You’ve proven your loyalty time and time again,”

You could feel the eyes of hundreds of Gumm-Gumms focusing in on you.  It wasn’t pleasant.  Maybe you’d die after all.

Gunmar rose from his throne, “You support the cause.  You know King Aurthur has wrongfully banished us from our homelands, imprisoned and executed our kind without reason,” 

You stood up straighter as the troll began to circle you, “Yes my lord,”

“Then you will have no problem with this task,”

“Anything you ask, my lord, it will be done,”

The troll made a sound that could have been a laugh.  You weren’t sure, you were pretty busy trying not to do anything that could get you killed.  Eleven years of allegiance were pretty good insurance, but there was no guarantee with the likes of Gunmar.

“You will act as our spy.  Go to the king’s wizard, demand he take you in as an apprentice.  There are whispers, rumors that the wretched magician is building a weapon that could destroy me,”  there was that laugh again, “You will find out everything you can about this weapon and report back to me,”

“Yes, my lord,”

“Do not fail me (L/N).  If you do not succeed, you already know your fate,”

You gulped, bowing to the king as he dismissed you.  Your mission was effective immediately, you packed up your (very) few belongings and headed through the woods to the kingdom of Camelot, preparing yourself to destroy it from the inside.

--

It didn’t take too much to get into the palace.  You were actually quite surprised at how little effort it took to convince Merlin to take you in as an apprentice.  Getting him to trust you was a different matter.

And getting the other apprentice to trust you was a different matter on top of the first matter.

Merlin was cold to you, but you’d gathered that it was just his personality, but the other apprentice?  He was quirky and kind to everyone else, but he treated you as if he already knew you were a Gumm-Gumm spy trying to steal vital information from his master.  His familiar acted much the same.

Maybe it was something about how you behaved?  You were used to the militaristic style of the Gumm-Gumms and Gunmar, who could kill you anytime he wanted if you messed up. 

You had no idea if that was the issue, or if this guy just had something against witches.  What you did know, was that whatever his problem was, it was keeping you from getting any actual work done.

If you didn’t report anything to Gunmar soon, he’d probably kill you, so you decided that you needed to get this apprentice out of the way.  You weren’t going to kill him, that would be too obvious.  You were just going to go up to him and calmly ask what his problem was.

This did not go down well.

By the end of that interaction, you and Hisirdoux Casperan were both screaming at each other, his familiar, Archie, had scratched your shoulder, and no less than three bookshelves had been knocked over.

Your relationship did not improve from there.

You fought with the boy wizard almost daily, with similar amounts of destruction.  It didn’t matter what it was whether it be his stupid man-bun, the colour you wore that day, his lute-playing, your fidgeting, or something even more trivial than that.  The two of you would always find some way to yell at each other because of it.

And it was really starting to piss Merlin off.

On the bright side, it was a decent way to let off steam.  The stress of being a spy was a lot to take, and yelling at someone really helped.  The catharsis really helped your work ethic.  You even managed to find out a little bit about Merlin’s weapon; an amulet of some kind.

Gunmar was pleased with your report.

With the exception of the constant fighting between you and Casperan, things were going pretty decently.  You finally had a place to experiment with your magic and use it for a purpose other than warfare, Gunmar was satisfied and showed no signs of killing you, and the king’s sister, Morgana, had really taken you under her wing.

And then she fell off a cliff and died.

Things took a downward turn after that.

You’d returned to Camelot, everyone mourning the sister of the king when Casperan approached you.

“You have something to do with this,”

You panicked for a moment before you realized he had no way of knowing that you did indeed have something to do with this, “I don’t know what you mean,”

“You have something to do with this,” his tone was angrier, more accusatory.  At his side, his familiar looked very concerned, “I don’t know what you did, but you are the reason Morgana is dead!”

“How dare you!” you cried.  You knew that you were kind of the reason that the sorceress was dead.  And you felt guilty about it.  You hadn’t let yourself feel guilt in years.  You hadn’t let yourself feel anything but fear in years.  You were having a very hard time adjusting to the pit in your chest.  Casperan was not helping.

“I dare because you can’t be real!  You have to be a traitor, or a spy or something!”

“Oh really?  How do you figure?”

“Douxie, stop,” Archie hissed.  Neither of you listened.

“Nobody with your skillset strolls up to the palace and asks to be an apprentice, you’re strong enough to be a master wizard, but you still came here, and stole everyone’s focus, and then you did,” he struggled to figure out your exact motive was, “Something!  Now Morgana is dead, and it’s your fault,”

If you weren’t actually a spy, you’d probably be offended.  You’d also point out how he had next to no evidence of this.  However, you were very much a spy, and you weren’t in the headspace to argue properly.  Instead of taking down his argument bit by bit, you just went for what you thought would hurt the most.

“So you’re accusing me of murder because you’re jealous?”  you scoffed, “Grow up!  It isn’t my fault that I’m better at magic than you!”

It wasn’t your fault, the fear of instant death did that.

“Better at magic, eh?  Well, let’s test that theory!”  Casperan moved a hand to his wrist where his magic bracelet of magic sat.  It glowed blue for a moment, showing spinning runes twisting into the form of a spell.

Then the blue light came at you.

You were more than a little shocked.  The two of you would fight, yes, but it never got physical or magical. Your back collided with the wall, dragging the breath from your lungs and making you cough.  

Archie hissed, once again trying to get the both of you to calm down.  It still didn’t work.

Casperan looked way too smug for someone who had only landed a hit with the element of surprise.  You scowled at him, reaching for your own cuff.  He wanted a fight?  You’d give him one.  

Your magic shot itself at the wizard, suspending him high in the air before dropping him harshly.

This continued for a time, absolutely destroying the room you were in.  The two of you probably would’ve fought for the rest of time had Merlin not barged in.

“What is the meaning of this!”  He exclaimed, stopping both you and Casperan mid-spell.

“They started it!” you and your fellow apprentice pointed your fingers at each other.

“I don’t care who started it.  I’ve had enough of your constant bickering!  You have both taken this too far, and don’t-”

“But master!”

“But master me.  Your fighting is disrupting the order of Camelot.  I cannot allow this to continue a moment longer!”

Oh no.  What did that mean exactly?  Was he going to cast you back out onto the street?  Kill you?  Maybe that was for the best.  If you were removed from the palace, Gunmar would kill you in ways Merlin had never dreamed of.

Maybe death by Merlin was the best outcome here.

So, you didn’t flinch when the master wizard raised his hands and spoke an incantation, painting the room in a green glow.

But you didn’t die.

Instead, a beam of light wove itself around your wrist, then around the wrist of the other apprentice.  The beam glowed brighter, tying itself into knots before it, and the green glow of the room faded away.

“Master, what-”

“What did you do?” you stared down at your wrist, shaking slightly.  You felt like you were going to be sick.

“An ancient binding spell.  You will now feel every bit of each other’s pain.  That should stop your pointless squabbling,”

“What!?  For how long!?” you cried out, grabbing your wrist and backing away from both wizards.

“Forever.  Now if you’ll excuse me,”

You didn’t even notice Merlin leave the room.  You just focused on the patch of skin where the magic had encircled you, binding you to Casperan and sealing your fate.

There was no way Gunmar would let you live if he knew about this.  You were compromised, it was as simple as that.  If the troll king found out that you were bound to Merlin’s apprentice?  And that said apprentice was already suspicious of you, and would absolutely use this connection to find out why you were really here?  You were going to die so painfully.

And suddenly you couldn’t breathe.  Your whole body shook slightly.  Your ribs hurt, your throat felt like it was closing, you had to go.  You didn’t even realize Casperan was talking, whether to you or his familiar, it didn’t matter.  You just turned tail and ran from the room.

And you didn’t stop.

--

Merlin searched for you.

He wasn’t the only one.

A small search party of knights, plus Merlin, scoured the land looking for you, trying to find where you’d run to. 

It was Italy.  You’d gone to Italy.  And you planned to go further, running as far and fast as you were able.

Needless to say, they didn’t find you.

The only reason they knew you were alive was Hisirdoux.  He wasn’t in immense pain, or in a vegetative state, or dead, so you had to be okay, wherever you were.  The thought was comforting, not only to Merlin, who considered you his responsibility but to Hisirdoux, who felt a little guilty.

A little guilty in this context means extremely guilty.  

He felt responsible for your disappearance.  He had wrongfully accused you, and you’d been punished for it.  He felt a little bit guilty every time he tripped or otherwise hurt himself.

The search continued until the battle of Killahead, where Gunmar revealed your spy status, demanding your head on a pike and accusing you of betraying him.  Hisirdoux stopped feeling so bad after that.

Instead, he was angry.  He’d been right, and no one had believed him.  You’d broken into his life, stolen the hearts of everyone he cared about, and none of them listened when he brought up how suspicious you were.  He was full of resentment, not only for you but for himself.  He should have tried harder to reveal you as a spy.  He should have done something, anything, but he did nothing.

These thoughts tortured him on the inside, one day leading him to punch a wall, scaring the daylights out of Archie.  The apprentice ignored the questions from his familiar, electing to stare down at his bruising hand and wondering if you felt that.

And even more than a thousand miles away, you did.