#fic: a thousand years

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐑𝐄-𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇

❝ Contrary to the stories most people told, the Duchess of Mandalore was not the only future leader that Obi-Wan Kenobi had protected during his days as a Jedi Padawan. Lianna Singh, the young princess of Delmar, had also found herself under the steadfast protection of the apprentice and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, shortly before she was to take over the rule of her planet from her father. Lianna was poised to be the first female ruler that Delmar had ever had, and as such was in constant danger from rebel groups furious at the reins of their planet being handed over to a "mere woman". King Ranjeet, fearing for his beloved daughter's safety, had pleaded with the Jedi Council to provide Lianna with the best protection the galaxy had to offer, and after Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's success in keeping the Mandalorian duchess safe, the Council saw fit to appoint them as the princess's temporary bodyguards.

From the very moment she met Obi-Wan, Lianna was drawn to the young Jedi-in-training. Aside from his silken voice and obvious good looks, she couldn't help but admire how intelligent he was, how observant and loyal and prepared to do anything to uphold the Jedi code and properly complete his mission. And though he was reluctant to admit it, knowing that feelings such as these were against all he had been taught, the Padawan took notice of Lianna as well. Everything about the future queen, from her sharp eyes to her sparkling laugh to the fierce love she had for her family and her people, drew him in, as if there was an invisible string connecting the two young idealists, loosening as it gently tugged them closer to each other.

As the months before Lianna's coronation flew by, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon thwarted attempt after attempt to end the princess's life and stop her reign as queen before it could begin, Lianna and Obi-Wan continued to grow closer. Before long, short, formal conversations and longing looks when one thought the other wasn't looking became hushed dialogues about everything and nothing, and long talks held in Lianna's midnight-dark quarters. Soft, subtle touches were exchanged when they passed each other, and secret smiles when no one was watching the two became as commonplace as breathing.

But all good things must come to an end, and so it was when Lianna was finally crowned queen of Delmar and given the full force of her father's former personal guard. With Obi-Wan and his Master no longer needed, the young Jedi was forced to take his leave, the last soft kiss Lianna had pressed to his cheek still burning as he watched Delmar grow small and disappear from the window of their leaving starship.

It would be years before the two saw each other again - years in which so many things changed. Obi-Wan was forced to watch his mentor be killed in front of him, becoming a Jedi Knight and mentor to a powerful young boy before he was truly ready for the responsibility. Lianna sat on Delmar's throne, ruling fairly and kindly and eventually winning over even her harshest critics. However, despite the urging of her advisors to marry and produce an heir for the kingdom, Lianna could never bring herself to find a man to be her king consort, just as Obi-Wan fought to shut off the feelings that had allowed him to fall in love with Lianna in the first place. Neither of them ever truly recovered from their all-too-brief time spent together, or the pain they had felt when it ended.

But it would seem fate is on the side of these two lovers, because now that the Clone Wars have started to rage, Lianna had finally taken her father's place in the Galactic Senate, throwing her into Obi-Wan's path once again. The queen loves her Jedi just as much as ever... but after fighting to close off his heart for so many years, Obi-Wan is reluctant to let Lianna in again.

These two souls may have started out star-crossed, but now their situation seems much worse. The stars in their paths are tangled, thrown together in a mess of glittering love and silver light, and it remains to be seen whether the string that pulled Lianna and Obi-Wan together in the first place can ever be untangled. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging @thechaoticfanartist.)

[rendevok]

Act I ~ The Prince

A tapestry for Let No One Sleep by @azalawa-scroggs on ao3

[pilkypills]

Bagginshield got 92 on Ao3’s top 100 ships of 2024 lets gooooooooo

[ilumel]

— how odd it is to find a fragment of the sun in the depths of such a violent storm.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 10 - Comfortable

@jegulus-microfic September 10, Word count 172

“James, it’s going in the bin!” Regulus grimaced. 

“What?! No!” James lunged out of his chair and attempted to snatch his old jumper out of Regulus’s hands, but Regulus easily sidestepped him. 

“At this point, it’s more holes than jumper. I will buy you a new one,” Regulus said, twisting the jumper around and showing all the places the cotton had spilt. 

“It won’t be the same, that one is so comfortable,” He whined.

“Tough,” Regulus said, his face completely emotionless as he held his wand up to it and set it alight. It did not take long for there to be nothing but ashes left. James hung his head sadly. 

“Buck up, love,” Regulus smirked as he threw a bag at James. Inside was a brand-new replica of the jumper Regulus had just burned. James quickly yanked it over his head and moaned. 

“It’s even softer than the old one. Thanks, love,” Regulus rolled his eyes and went to make some tea while James ran his hands up and down himself. 

[javelinbk]

John Lennon escorts a sick Paul McCartney after postponing their show in Portsmouth, 12th November 1963 - part 3 (part 1, part 2)

[cyraclove]

wip Wednesday, have some sad 😌

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ok Wild Angsters, you wanted a continuation, so here you go :)

Four already knew what he would be walking into. His phone had been blowing up for hours. He’d come in to work early. Whether he was assigned to take care of Wild or not was another matter - Vaati loved to try and take all the admissions, convinced he was the best nurse on the unit. If Four could just keep Vaati out of Wild’s room, he’d consider it a success.

When the charge nurse told him he would be admitting the trauma alert, he knew who he was getting.

Pre-admission jitters always made Four anxious, but this was an entirely other level of fear. He almost wanted to request a different assignment, but it was too late now. What if he couldn’t take caer of him because he was his friend? What if that impair his decision making? What if he just wasn’t skilled enough to handle it? He knew Ezlo wouldn’t give him an assignment he couldn’t handle, wouldn’t be there to support him, but still…

Four went over the supplies in his room once more. Safety checks were fine—they had suction, they had a bag valve mask, the code card was nearby—and he had all the supplies he needed. It was just a waiting game.

Four paced the unit at least three times before he looked at the OR status board again. Wild was still in surgery. He poked in his chart, glancing at injuries, looking at vital signs and anesthesia notes. The last update he saw was that Wild had gotten another unit of blood. Estimated blood loss so far was around 2200mL.

2200mL. That… wasn’t too terrible, Four supposed. He’d… seen worse.

Please don’t get worse.

Four knew for certain that Wild had been mass transfused in the ED. Warriors, his primary nurse when he was there, had told him as much. Between that and the multiple blood products he’d gotten in surgery, as well all the crystalloids he was likely getting as well…

Four took a breath. Then another. He grabbed his phone, texting Warriors. You doing ok?

Wars didn’t reply.

Four wasn’t entirely sure where everyone was at this point. Hyrule had stayed at the hospital, lingering in the emergency department and then the operating room waiting area, but Four hadn’t seen him since he’d clocked in. Warriors and Legend should be getting off shift now, but whether they were going to stay up was another matter. Time was obviously in the OR (Wild’s wreck had been around 10pm, he’d arrived in the ED around 10:45, and he’d been stabilized for surgery and gone to the OR by around midnight - it was 7am now… he wasn’t sure how long this was going to take, but it couldn’t be much longer). Malon should be getting on shift now as well - she had come in last night when everything had gone down, alongside Twilight. Wind had been cautiously left out of the loop until Wild had gone to surgery, simply because nobody had really had much information at the time, so no one wanted to worry the kid until they could figure things out. Everyone had their hands full as it was. But by now, Four knew Wind was either in the OR waiting room, harassing every respiratory therapist he knew, or in the hospital library pacing anxiously. As for Sky, the last Four heard he was bouncing between different people, checking in on everyone.

He clicked through more anesthesia notes, looked at flow sheets for blood products. There wasn’t much to go on, as charting was sparse. What Four did know was that Wild had been obtunded, got mass transfused, had gotten a chest tube, had been intubated, blood was evident in his abdomen, and he had an open femur fracture. He’s been taken to Time’s OR for a ex-lap. Head CT had shown a bleed, and they were monitoring it. That was all the information Legend had told the group when he’d had a moment to spare.

Four’s vocera activated, telling him he had a call from the charge nurse. When he answered, he was told Malon had called and said they’d be finishing up in about thirty minutes and were likely to come up open.

Why was he coming up with his abdomen open? When had they gone from exploratory laparotomy to a full on open abdomen?

Ten minutes later, Malon called back to give report. When Four answered, the first thing he asked was, “How’s he doing? Is he okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Malon said, even though she sounded exhausted. “And he’s… hanging in there. I’ve seen worse, I’ll say that. I’ll give you the full rundown, okay?”

Four listened as Malon gave report, feeling his heart settled into his stomach, which was tying itself in knots. Multiple spots of bleeding, possible compartment syndrome in his abdomen, a likely kidney injury due to compression from the bleeding on some major vessels, a small hematoma in his brain… they’d had to call neurosurgery to do an emergency craniotomy out of overt concern of swelling, given that Wild had apparently had previous head trauma, based on what they saw in the OR.

Open abdomen, craniotomy, ICP monitoring, bleeding, one chest tube… this was a disaster. Four swallowed as he wrote, feeling his hand shake a little as his heart raced. He was not qualified enough to be admitting this. He was not.

But the turnaround on his unit was pretty insane, and he was the most experienced nurse on the unit today. At least Ezlo was charge; he knew he’d be well supported.

This was a nightmare. But Four had dealt with nightmares, and he would deal with this. He wasn’t going to screw up taking care of any patient, but especially his friend.

Sighing, he hung up the phone after thanking Malon, pushing worries for her and Time aside, trying to focus on what he would need, who he should grab to help him, and how he should prep his room.

It was time to get to work.

When everyone arrived from the OR, Four made brief eye contact with Time. He couldn’t read much from the man, who was stone faced, aside from the exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes. Four got to work quickly, assessing Wild from head to toe as he looked to see what IV medications he was on. A coworker wrote the note while Ezlo helped detangle his lines (the OR always brought up a mess, after all). Time gave an overview of the surgery, and Four listened along as he checked pupils, as he zeroed the arterial line and the ICP monitor, as he listened to lung and heart sounds, as he checked the chest tube and stripped it with his fingers to ensure patency, as he checked peripheral pulses, as he looked at the abdominal dressing to get a baseline in case there was swelling from bleeding later. One of the techs connected the chest tube to wall suction, and Four looked over his drips. Only having levophed at 2 wasn’t terrible, and he was getting a unit of red blood cells, which was in a transfusion set that was y’d to some lactated ringers fluid. He was on propofol for sedation. Another nurse grabbed a blood gas from his arterial line and sent off labs. His foley he had was temp sensing, and Four quickly ascertained that Wild was cold, so he set up the blanket warmer and covered his friend up.

His friend. His friend.

Four shook his head. He had to focus.

As Time left the room, he put a hand on Four’s shoulder, making him freeze. The surgeon didn’t speak, just locking eyes with him. Four wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own benefit or not. But he had no more time to let his emotions make any decisions for him. He nodded to the doctor, who nodded in return, and then the two went their separate ways.

This was going to be a long day.

[bongo-clash]

Jack Fenton likes to tell his kids stories about his childhood, sometimes. Likes to talk about his college years, likes to talk about the vastness of the Fenton family, likes to talk about the little cabin in the woods he didn’t leave until he was twenty years old. It’s something of a hobby of his, to reminisce. But like every parent, there’s just a few things that go unsaid. A secret name, a secret origin, some lost fragment of a past lightyears behind him. His children have inherited near nothing of it, he’d thought, and perhaps it was best they never know. And then he discovers his son can fly. (Or: Forty years ago, Jax-An crash landed in Earth’s atmosphere. Five minutes ago, Jack Fenton realised he might have passed more onto his son than he’d first thought.)

Hey guys I posted a dp/dc Kryptonian Jack Fenton fic okay bye have a good day!!!

[rochenn]

man when you go all the way back to the oldest codywan fics on ao3 there's basically nothing up until 2014. but when the inhibitor chip arc came out? the girlies fucking JUMPED on the "shit he was FORCED to shoot him down?? 😭😭" dynamic sooo fast it's incredible

[pianokantzart]

(Slight spoilers for TTYD) So there’s a side-quest where Mario dresses up like Luigi to make a girl Toad happy as she’s a fan of him. The real Luigi shows up and she accuses him of being an imposter and says rude things to him. Luigi asks Mario to back him up, only for him to play dumb about it. Luigi runs away crying.

Some Luigi fans on Twitter have been made aware of it and now hate the game because of it, forgetting that TTYD was originally made during the 2000s, a time where Luigi slander was unfortunately common in the games.

Now don’t get me wrong, they’re right to hate Luigi slander, but to denounce the game over one instance in an optional side-quest?

Thoughts?

It's their prerogative to voice their complaints, but it's definitely weird to get that bent out of shape.

It's perfectly reasonable to say "that one part left a poor taste in my mouth," but if an overall great game experience can be ruined by one mean spirited (but completely optional) side quest, that's weird. It's not an ancient religion where you have to accept every aspect of canon or denounce the entire project. It's Mario. It's fine.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

INTRODUCING… MY STAR WARS ORIGINAL CHARACTER, LIANNA SINGH

❝ Contrary to the stories most people told, the Duchess of Mandalore was not the only future leader that Obi-Wan Kenobi had protected during his days as a Jedi Padawan. Lianna Singh, the young princess of Delmar, had also found herself under the steadfast protection of the apprentice and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, shortly before she was to take over the rule of her planet from her father. Lianna was poised to be the first female ruler that Delmar had ever had, and as such was in constant danger from rebel groups furious at the reins of their planet being handed over to a "mere woman". King Ranjeet, fearing for his beloved daughter's safety, had pleaded with the Jedi Council to provide Lianna with the best protection the galaxy had to offer, and after Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's success in keeping the Mandalorian duchess safe, the Council saw fit to appoint them as the princess's temporary bodyguards.

From the very moment she met Obi-Wan, Lianna was drawn to the young Jedi-in-training. Aside from his silken voice and obvious good looks, she couldn't help but admire how intelligent he was, how observant and loyal and prepared to do anything to uphold the Jedi code and properly complete his mission. And though he was reluctant to admit it, knowing that feelings such as these were against all he had been taught, the Padawan took notice of Lianna as well. Everything about the future queen, from her sharp eyes to her sparkling laugh to the fierce love she had for her family and her people, drew him in, as if there was an invisible string connecting the two young idealists, loosening as it gently tugged them closer to each other.

As the months before Lianna's coronation flew by, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon thwarted attempt after attempt to end the princess's life and stop her reign as queen before it could begin, Lianna and Obi-Wan continued to grow closer. Before long, short, formal conversations and longing looks when one thought the other wasn't looking became hushed dialogues about everything and nothing, and long talks held in Lianna's midnight-dark quarters. Soft, subtle touches were exchanged when they passed each other, and secret smiles when no one was watching the two became as commonplace as breathing.

But all good things must come to an end, and so it was when Lianna was finally crowned queen of Delmar and given the full force of her father's former personal guard. With Obi-Wan and his Master no longer needed, the young Jedi was forced to take his leave, the last soft kiss Lianna had pressed to his cheek still burning as he watched Delmar grow small and disappear from the window of their leaving starship.

It would be years before the two saw each other again - years in which so many things changed. Obi-Wan was forced to watch his mentor be killed in front of him, becoming a Jedi Knight and mentor to a powerful young boy before he was truly ready for the responsibility. Lianna sat on Delmar's throne, ruling fairly and kindly and eventually winning over even her harshest critics. However, despite the urging of her advisors to marry and produce an heir for the kingdom, Lianna could never bring herself to find a man to be her king consort, just as Obi-Wan fought to shut off the feelings that had allowed him to fall in love with Lianna in the first place. Neither of them ever truly recovered from their all-too-brief time spent together, or the pain they had felt when it ended.

But it would seem fate is on the side of these two lovers, because now that the Clone Wars have started to rage, Lianna had finally taken her father's place in the Galactic Senate, throwing her into Obi-Wan's path once again. The queen loves her Jedi just as much as ever... but after fighting to close off his heart for so many years, Obi-Wan is reluctant to let Lianna in again.

These two souls may have started out star-crossed, but now their situation seems much worse. The stars in their paths are tangled, thrown together in a mess of glittering love and silver light, and it remains to be seen whether the string that pulled Lianna and Obi-Wan together in the first place can ever be untangled. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @guardiansofheroes, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski, @arrthurpendragon, @ocappreciationtag.

[starrystevie]

such a heavenly way to die | written by rogersharringtons on ao3

“I wish I could have had sex just once before I bit the dust.” The tension in the air is thick, palpable, living up to every cliche Steve’s heard before. He has half a mind to pull out his pocket knife to see if he can really cut through it. Steve doesn’t dare break the moment, though, letting Eddie breath a few times before continuing on.  “It’s hard enough dying a loser, but a virgin? Talk about lame.” Eddie laughs, and it’s not real, it’s something broken and fake in the way it climbs out of his throat. “What’s worse, I haven’t even kissed anyone. Jesus Christ, what a sad legacy to leave behind. Practically Shakespearian levels of tragic.”  Eddie has on that sad, self-deprecating smile that pulls at Steve’s heartstrings every time he sees it. It’s too much before the end of the world, it’s too much for Steve who knows this is his last chance to be brave in a way he hasn’t had to be before.  “Kiss me.” Steve can see how Eddie freezes, his chest the only thing that shows he’s still alive because of the way it’s puffing out with Eddie’s deep breaths. His sad little smile turns down and Steve decides he hates Eddie’s frown even more. “God, pity is even worse than embarrassment. Thanks, Steve”

their final fight against the upside down will happen in the morning, so eddie admits a secret that needs to be said before the end of the world. what kind of monster would steve be to not help him out?

17k+ words | one shot | explicit

tags: angst with a happy ending, virgin eddie munson, accidental power bottom steve harrington, first times, porn with plot

[azuremist]

LET'S GOOOO MY AGENDA VALIDATED

[corviiids]

planning to post ch 7 of my akechi palace au, "as you like it", on his birthday 2 june so in the leadup (while i reread it and make sure im not contradicting myself) here are some of my favourite and silliest bits and pieces out of the chapters that are up so far

AND a sneak peek of my favourite part of chapter 7. for kicks

[justaz]

once merlin puts arthur to rest, the world around him disappears and he’s in ealdor staring at his mother’s back. his sobs from the lake grow worse at the sight of his mother and he wails like he’s a child again, calling repeatedly for his ma. she spins around and finds him, without asking any questions she dashes forward and pulls him into a hug, holding his weight as he falls apart in her grasp, choking out nonsensical words and soaking her dress with tears, snot, and drool, his overwhelming grief causing him to ignore any sense of shame he might’ve felt at such a scene.

he doesn’t remember explaining anything to her, frankly he doesn’t remember much beyond the cries he pressed into her shoulder, but she says he’s been in ealdor for a week. she’s clearly worried and asks, no, begs him to eat or drink but he doesn’t feel the need or desire to, and even if he did, he simply doesn’t have the energy to bring the sustenance to his mouth. she cradles his head in her lap and runs her finger through his hair like she did when he had a nightmare when he was younger. it’s almost enough to make the entire thing seem like a horrible, horrible dream. but theres blood on his tunic where he held arthur’s body to his own so he knows it’s not true.

his mother doesn’t ask any questions, the look in her eyes telling him that she knows anyway. perhaps his nonsensical babble created a clear enough image for her to understand. maybe she just saw the broken look in his eyes and came to the conclusion on her own. she doesn’t mention him. merlin isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that or not. in the end, he brings it up, he asks how she was able to go on after balinor left. he asks how she was able to pick herself back up on her own two feet and carry on life as normal after receiving his letter informing her of his passing. she says sometimes she can’t, sometimes she lays in bed and listens to the birds sing and can’t help but hate them. she says she lives on for him anyway. she pushes herself up and makes food and works in the fields even when she hate the world around her.

merlin tries to relate, tries to understand, tries to imagine himself getting up every morning and living on in his name. he can’t. his parents loved each other, he knows that, but they were their own people and were able to stand the years apart. merlin…merlin is arthur’s, even in death. everything he is, everything he’s done, has been for arthur. he is half of merlin’s soul, the center of merlin’s world. how can anyone expect him to move on as if he’s capable of being alone? how can anyone expect him to function as if half of his soul, half of himself, isn’t dead in a lake? merlin can’t do it, he can’t imagine living a life without arthur. he barely got through the week and that’s only because he was passed out for a majority of it. how could he make it a year, much less another fifty?

he can’t. he can’t do it. he can’t breathe, he’s in agony, the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. not without arthur.

he’s back at the lake now, tears still streaming down his face despite the pounding headache from dehydration yet it doesn’t matter, not anymore. none of it does. he stumbles into the lake and sends his magic into the water to tug excalibur from the depths. he can feel freya pulling the sword back, but his magic overpowers hers easily and the sword springs from the lake, gleaming in the afternoon sun. freya’s face appears in the ripples of the water next to him, her expression pleading and sorrowful. merlin whispers an apology before turning back to the sword, staring at the sharp point of the blade. he brings it closer to hover just over his heart, the metal pressing against his skin but not enough to draw blood just yet.

peace washes over him. the sun warms his skin and the water cools him to keep it from being unbearable. the birds sing in the trees as the wind whistles through the leaves. merlin stares up at the brilliant blue sky and pure white clouds roll by, images of bunnies and birds and crowns and horses staring down at him. he wonders if avalon will be this peaceful, if he and arthur could lay out in a field for eternity, basking in the sun and laughing as they point out misshapen clouds that supposedly look like the other.

he plunges the sword into his chest, right through his heart, and falls back into the water. bubbles trail out of his mouth up towards the surface, blood spills from his wound and mixes with the water. he closes his eyes as he sinks further and further. he knows when he opens them, he’ll be with arthur once more. it’ll all be okay. he doesn’t feel his body hit the bottom before blackness fills his mind.

arthur awakens from his fitful slumber in a bed that is not his own. he squints at the room, or rather hut, around him and finds an old man hunched over a book in the corner. arthur tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak of air, his throat too dry to speak. the man hears and whirls around to begin treating him once more, prattling on and on about how he found arthur in the woods outside his village donning shiny clothes which he discarded bc of the blood staining them yet he couldn’t find a wound. arthur’s hand reaches up to his side but there’s no stab wound there, not anymore, though he does sport the scar. he remembers how he got it, he remembers stumbling away from the battlefield, he remembers being found by merlin- merlin.

he asks the man about him but he seems confused and denies ever knowing someone by that name. arthur climbs out of the bed (the flash of golden eyes) and hastily pulls on his armor (“i’m a sorcerer. i have magic.”). he’s out the door before the old man can protest. he’s in a village he doesn’t recognize, they must not be anywhere near camelot (“i’m still the same person.”). he turns to the old man hobbling out of the hut and demands directs to camelot. the man stares at him oddly and scratches his ear before informing him that he’s never heard of a camelot before (“you’re my friend and i don’t want to lose you.”).

he instead asks for directions to the woods where he was found and sets off in that direction, the old man shuffling after him (“me, i was born to serve you, arthur.”). it doesn’t take long to reach where he was found. if the old man had carried him home it couldn’t’ve been much of a hike (“and i’m proud of that.”). he steps into a clearing where the man panted that he found him here (“and i wouldn’t change a thing.”). it’s no where near the lake where merlin held him as he took his last breath, it’s no where near camelot. the man didn’t even recognize the name of his kingdom (“it’s not why i do it.”).

arthur sits in the grass as he thinks on his next move and the man who watched over him sits next to him (“i’m not going to change now.”). he speaks lowly of a prophecy about a man from a time long forgotten sent on a journey, a quest, to retrieve what has been lost. he says how the prophecy led many to a sword lodged in stone (“i’m not going to lose you.”) but no one could pull it free. he points out arthur’s armor and calls it odd, he mentions camelot, a kingdom of which he’s never heard, and gestures around the clearing where he found the mystery man. he concludes that perhaps the prophecy spoke of him (“i can’t lose him.”).

arthur, with no other options, follows the man’s directions to a lake. not exactly lake avalon but close enough. theres a small island in the center that seems more like a hill. the sword, his sword, excalibur is buried in a stone covered in moss, misshaping it’s actual form. arthur wades across the water and climbs the hill. he wraps his hands around the hilt of excalibur and closes his eyes. he imagines merlin confident and reassuring expression as they and all his men stood in the woods around this damn sword in a different stone however long ago it was. he breathes in and out (“he’s my friend.”) and pulls.

excalibur comes free just as it did before. arthur watches the metal pull free and as it does, the moss on the stone falls away revealing its form. it looks like a collapsed figure, excalibur having been lodged in it’s chest, right where it’s heart would be. arthur squints at what looks like the head and feels a flash of familiarity. the stone slowly fades away from the hole where excalibur was all the way to the hill. as the stone fades, it leaves behind skin and clothes and hair and…merlin.

arthur drops excalibur and falls to his knees to hold up merlin’s limp form. he feels warm, as if he didn’t just spend however long with a sword in his chest as a stone. he’s not breathing. why isn’t he breathing? arthur grasps around, shifting his clothes out of the way to find the wound where excalibur had once been. the skin is stitching itself together with tiny golden threads. arthur looks back up at merlin’s lax face as the wound fully closes. he inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, glowing gold, and all around him it seemed the world finally inhaled after suffocating for millennia.

merlin exhales and golden sparks shoot from his lips to flurry around in the air. the grass under them grows longer and curls around both his and merlin’s body where they rest against the ground. the water around their island clears from the murky brown to a blindingly clear blue. the air is crisp and clean, the sun brighter and warmer, and one soul finally whole again.