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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC fic

Chapter Word Count: 5.3k

Part 45/54

"The hardest thing I have ever done is walk away still madly in love with you." - Leo Hearts

Masterlist

Gwen burst into Alistair's chambers like a raging tempest, her hair flying wildly behind her as she ripped off her bandana, needing to breathe without obstruction. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes blazed with fiery determination, still fuming from her heated confrontation with Eamon. Alistair sat slouched at his desk, surrounded by a chaotic sea of letters that seemed to mock Gwen's lack of literacy. The writing on the pages might as well have been written in an arcane script for all she could decipher, reminding her once again of her outsider status in this world of nobility and politics. Alistair's eyelids fluttered against impending sleep until Gwen's sudden entrance snapped him back to wakefulness.

He straightened, blinking the sleep from his eyes and observing her agitated stance with a frown. “What happened, is something wrong?" he asked softly, rising from his seat and moving closer to her. His footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet underfoot. The light from the window cast a pale glow on their figures, creating shadows that flitted across the room.

Gwen's eyes darted away, her voice a brusque whisper barely escaping her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest, the frustration and confusion making it hard to think clearly. She hadn't wanted the Arl to ruin her last night with Alistair, but there he was, looming over them like a dark cloud. Her temper flared, but she couldn't find the words to express it. Instead, all she could do was stand there, seething and unable to come up with a plan of action other than lashing out at him in anger.

“It’s nothing.”

Alistair ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily, and fixing her with an unimpressed stare. "Right, and I’m looking forward to my coronation tomorrow - maybe it’ll just be a quiet affair, how about a potluck?" he said with more sass than perhaps he had meant to, but in all fairness, they were both exhausted. His eyes locked onto hers, searching for any sign of what was troubling her. "Don’t lie to me, Gwen. Even I can spot trouble when it’s breathing fire and waving a sword around. I'm not that daft, I can tell something is wrong." His words hung in the air, waiting patiently for her response.

As soon as the words left his mouth, her entire body tensed up like a coiled spring. The scars on her skin seemed to pulse with a life of their own, whispering warnings of the danger her feelings posed. She hugged herself tightly, almost as if trying to protect her heart from his piercing gaze. Her breaths came in rapid gasps, shallow and panicked. With venom dripping from every word, she spat out the question that had been clawing at her insides, "Why would you even consider such a thing? Asking your advisors about marriage to... someone like me?" Her words were barbed, angry tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. All she wanted was to spend her days by his side, but she knew it could never be a reality. How could he not see the truth of their situation?

Alistair's face crumpled and Gwen kicked herself internally for having done that to him. "I'll have stern words with the Arl about this. What did he tell you exactly?" He asked, but Gwen wouldn't hear it. It wasn’t a stretch for Alistair to guess which of his advisors hated Gwen enough to bring this up with her, but the Arl was not present for either of them to direct their fury towards, all they had was each other.

Her voice cracked like thin ice on a winter lake. “It doesn’t matter, it cannot be done.”

“It does matter.” Alistair moved closer, his earnestness making her heart race and tightening the pit in her stomach. The urge to retreat slithered down her spine, but she forced herself to remain, even as she felt the invisible thread that bound them both stretching precariously. “I asked my advisors to find any possible way for us to be together safely. Not just marriage.” She felt herself involuntarily inch backwards, her pulse echoing the two words - together, safely - a cruel juxtaposition that made her chest ache.

"I’m no shining example of royal wisdom but I knew marriage would be nearly impossible. Yet I had to ask, to know I tried everything. You deserve more than a life stuck in my shadow, Gwen, and I am trying to find that for you, but I'm still learning how to navigate all of this." He gestured around the opulent room.

"Maybe it was foolish, I don’t know. But what I do know is that my heart belongs to you, it always will, and I don’t want to have to hide you away like some dirty secret.” His touch was warm against her skin as he took her hand in his, igniting a spark of yearning deep within her. She fought to keep the warmth from blooming across her chest, panic closing her throat.

Gwen shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “You have to understand, Alistair! I can’t allow my existence to taint your legacy. You deserve to have a reign characterized by strength, not haunted by a monster standing at your side. I will not allow my blood to undermine everything you hope to build.”

Alistair tilted Gwen's chin up, meeting her misty eyes. "You will never be a monster to me, Gwen. You are the woman I love. Nothing will ever change that, even if it costs me my crown. Isn't that worth fighting for?"

A wave of nausea washed over Gwen as she gazed into Alistair's imploring eyes. She could feel the weight of his sorrow and desperation bearing down on her, crushing her chest. The guilt churned in her stomach, bile rising in her throat. How could she have allowed herself to judge him so harshly? She had barged into his room, ready to confront him, but instead, he bared his soul to her. And yet, she couldn't stop herself from pushing forward.

"You can't marry me, Alistair,” she said firmly, pulling her hand away as if his touch seared her skin. The fluttering in her stomach betrayed her resolve, the heat of agitation creeping into her cheeks. “Nor should you be asking about it.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet his gaze, the tightening in her throat almost choking her. “It puts us both at risk, Alistair. If all of your advisors find out about my tainted blood, they won't just see me as a danger to your reign; they'll see all of Ferelden at risk. They could spread rumours that destabilize your leadership, and what if they use that to sway public opinion against you? You would do better to get yourself someone who could be your queen, secure your succession and give you an heir. Not someone who would undermine your rule simply by existing."

Gwen's gaze locked onto Alistair's, her heart heavy and aching with the knowledge that she had to let him. She couldn't bear the thought of putting his life in jeopardy by holding onto him. It would be cruel and selfish. She wouldn’t do to Alistair what she had done to Lucy.

Alistair's words were filled with an intensity that could not be ignored. His voice trembled ever so slightly. "I don't want anyone else but you," he declared fervently, his eyes locked onto hers. "You're like… my favourite pair of worn-in boots - uncomfortable sometimes, but I can't bear to live without you." He paused, his brow furrowing. "Wait, no that's a terrible analogy. What I mean to say is that I would happily be without a queen if it meant I could be with you."

Gwen's resolve wavered for a moment, but she shook her head. She could not allow herself to be swayed, not even by his cheesy but endearing attempt to compare her to boots. "It's not about what we want. It's about what is best for Ferelden and for you, as its future king."

Alistair scoffed bitterly. “Is it really?” he asked, frustration seeping into his voice. He leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching, but doubt lingered in his dark eyes. “Because all I can think about is being with you. Am I being selfish? Maybe. What if my feelings lead to nothing but trouble for you? Yet I cannot deny that I need you, Gwen,” he continued, “not some Queen to bear heirs, but you. Unless...” Alistair's voice trembled as uncertainty washed over him. “Do you not want this? Us?” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for an answer he feared he wouldn’t find. The weight of his desire and his responsibilities pressed heavily on his shoulders, and for a moment, he looked like a lost little boy, grappling with the enormity of what it meant to love someone in such dire circumstances.

His eyes were filled with a raw, deep-seated insecurity that shook her to the core. She longed to take away the pain etched into his features, but she knew that giving in would only complicate things for them both in the future. A surge of aggravation coursed through her veins like the sting of a whip, dredging up old memories she'd rather forget. Yet, it was his vulnerability that truly wounded her, leaving her feeling exposed and helpless.

Alistair leaned closer, urgency flickering in his eyes as she hesitated to answer. “Gwen, if you don’t want this - if you don’t want me - tell me now. I need to know,” he implored, his voice low and trembling with sincerity.

She swiped irritably at the tears that began falling down her pale cheeks. "It is not about want," she insisted, “if it was we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Her voice trembled like the last leaf clinging to a winter branch.

"Please, Gwen, I don’t want to fight about this," Alistair's voice softened, each word laced with the warmth of hearth fires amidst the chill of Ferelden winters. "I love you, with every flawed piece of myself, and that will never change. All I ask is that you trust me, and give me a little more time to figure this out."

Gwen felt her resolve weaken even more at Alistair's words. How could she deny their love when he spoke to her with such sincerity?

"I do trust you, Alistair," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But this is bigger than just us. It's about your duty as king and the safety of your people." Gwen did not truly care a great deal about this, not when it meant she couldn’t be with the man she loved. But she knew Alistair did.

Alistair sighed heavily, his fingers tracing patterns on the back of her hand. "I know that," he said, "but I also know that they would not benefit from a miserable king. You make me stronger and I need you in all aspects of my life."

Her defences crumbled like the walls of an ancient ruin under siege, and she fell into his arms, surrendering to the safety it promised. His arms enveloped her slight frame as though they could shield her from the world's cruelties, his breath hot against the shell of her ear as he whispered sweet words to her. She allowed herself this momentary respite, her haunted eyes closing, tears seeping through the cracks of her armoured heart.

"Will you come to bed?" Alistair asked, his voice a tender entreaty as he pulled back just enough to search her face. "I would like to hold the woman I cherish in my arms before whatever chaos and horror tomorrow brings."

Gwen's resolve crumbled in the face of Alistair's open-hearted vulnerability. She gave a silent nod, submitting to his wishes as he guided her towards the bed. The velvety softness of the plush blankets and furs called out to her, begging her to sink into their comfort. She perched hesitantly on the edge, unsure of what was to come next. With deft fingers, Alistair started unlacing her leather vest, their eyes locked in an intense stare. As his knuckles grazed against her collarbone, tingles scattered throughout her body.

With delicate movements, he peeled the weathered leather from her body, his touch reverent and gentle. The vest fell to the floor with a muffled thud, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Carefully, he reached for the hem of her linen shirt, lifting it over her head as she raised her arms obligingly. Goosebumps prickled her pale skin beneath the fabric.

Soon, she was stripped down to just her breastband and small clothes. Alistair's eyes roved over her appreciatively, taking in every curve and line of her rogue's physique. Scars etched pale lines across her body, reminders of why she would leave, to avoid that eventuality coming down on him. With a flush colouring her sharp cheekbones, she allowed him to guide her down onto the soft pillows, surrendering herself fully to his touch.

Alistair discarded his clothes, the fabric rustling as they fell to the ground. He slipped under the covers beside her and pulled her close. Skin met skin as he pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms.

She nestled herself beneath his chin, revelling in the solid warmth of his chest pressed against hers, his steady heartbeat thrumming through his veins.

"How are you feeling?" she murmured, tracing invisible patterns on his chest, seeking distraction from the ache within.

"Utterly terrified, of course," he replied, the humour in his tone brittle like thin ice. "But I shall don my crown and hope it doesn't come equipped with a mechanism designed to spontaneously decapitate me."

Gwen offered a smile, faint but genuine, the soft laugh that bubbled up soothing their frayed edges. "You'll be remarkable," she assured him, her gaze holding more than a glint of pride. "Your people will adore you for the kindness that resides in your heart, as I do."

Their lips met in a kiss made of a thousand unspoken promises and dreams too fragile to voice aloud. It was a sealing of their connection, tenuous and precious, before they succumbed to sleep's embrace, wrapped in each other's arms, a fleeting sanctuary against the dawn's inexorable approach, and Gwen’s departure.

Gwen lay awake long after Alistair's breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep, the faint scent of pine soap lingering on his skin.

She studied his face in the dim moonlight, memorizing every detail - the fan of sandy lashes against his cheek, the soft parting of his lips with each exhale, the furrow between his brows that even slumber could not smooth away entirely. She let her hand rest on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall as he breathed.

She would not sleep that night, content to instead stretch the night out for as long as possible. She would hold onto this moment, this perfect moment with him, forever in her mind. She would not miss a second of the time she had left with him, savouring every moment of their love like a precious gem.

For it would be gone far too soon.

The hours passed far too quickly. The first timid rays of dawn filtered through the gap in the heavy curtains, casting a soft, golden glow on the room where Alistair slept. Gwen lay beside him, her eyes wide and watchful, absorbing every curve and angle of his face as it basked in the gentle light. There was a peacefulness to his features that she rarely saw during their waking hours - a delicate vulnerability that only the quiet trust of sleep could unveil.

This image - this moment - she seared into her memory, an eternal snapshot for the lonely times ahead.

Gwen leaned over, her silky hair cascading over Alistair's forehead as she brushed her lips against it in a gentle, barely-there kiss. He stirred, his warm breath caressing her skin as he shifted towards her touch. The sound of his contented murmur pulled at her heartstrings, filling her with a bittersweet ache, a sweet reminder of what she had to leave behind. Tears welled up in her eyes, their salty trails carving down her cheeks like miniature rivers, and she leaned back, careful not to let them fall on him, lest they wake him.

With painstaking precision, she disentangled herself from his embrace, her limbs quivering as she fought against a force stronger than gravity itself. It felt like she was tearing apart the very fabric of her being, leaving behind pieces of her soul like fractured glass. Each movement was accompanied by a searing pain, as if a thousand knives were piercing her skin.

Gwen stood, transfixed, beside Alistair's bed. Her heart seemed to be in her throat as she gazed down at him, shattered into pieces by the thought of leaving him like this. How could she leave him like this, before he awoke without even a goodbye? She longed to crawl back under the blankets and wrap herself in his gentle touch, to feel his strong arms around her one last time before saying goodbye. As Alistair stirred, stretching contentedly in his sleep, a pang of guilt shot through her. How could she take this from him?

But she knew in her heart that she couldn't keep him by her side. As much as it gutted her, she had to let him go for his own good. The weight of the decision bore down on her like a boulder, threatening to crush her with its gravity. She knew that being with her would only put his life in constant danger, and she loved him too much to risk that.

Silent sobs wracked Gwen's body as she scanned his face one last time - the fall of his sandy brown hair across his forehead, the little scar on his chin from a childhood mishap. This was the face of the man she loved with every ounce of her being. The man she was abandoning for his own protection.

It felt as if invisible hands were tearing her heart from her chest, tossing it bloodied and bruised into the blankets. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the cries trying to escape. How could she just walk away from the one person who made her feel whole? The one who looked at her with such tenderness and understanding?

Gwen knelt and brushed her lips over Alistair's, feather-light, trying to impart all her unspoken feelings into that final caress. Then, with massive effort, she pulled away and stumbled blindly from the room, vision blurred by tears. She paused at the doorway, casting one last anguished look at his sleeping form.

"Goodbye, my love," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry.”

And with that, she slipped out of the room, leaving her heart behind.

Gwen crumpled against the unyielding surface of the closed door, her body convulsing with the intensity of her sobs. Each breath was a struggle, as if she were gasping for air, wave after wave of anguish threatening to pull her under. Her hands flattened against the smooth wood, trying to find some anchor, something to keep her moving. She forced herself to take deep, shuddering breaths, grasping desperately at any sense of control.

She cast a glance over her shoulder at the closed door, picturing Alistair's peaceful form lying within. The rise and fall of his chest, the softness of his features in sleep - it all tugged at her heartstrings. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself for what she had to do. For Alistair's sake. He deserved someone who could stand confidently by his side, not a broken and tainted woman weighed down by her heritage and the burden it carried.

Gwen scrubbed at her wet cheeks, trying to collect herself. She couldn't fall apart, not yet. Not when she still had to make it out of the castle unseen. There would be time to grieve later, when she was far away and he was safe.

"Leaving so soon?"

A deep, resonant voice echoed from the shadows, causing Gwen to spin around in alarm. A figure emerged, stepping forward with a confident gait. Darcy's intense, dark eyes met hers and held her in an unbreakable gaze. Despite her best efforts to hide it, tears continued to stream down Gwen's cheeks, betraying the depth of her sorrow.

"Couldn't sleep," she managed to say, her voice a strained whisper.

He said nothing, only motioning for her to follow him with a stern look on his face. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reluctantly trailed behind him. The hallway stretched out before them, the walls adorned with ornate tapestries and expensive paintings that did nothing to ease her nerves. She could hear the faint sound of distant voices, but they seemed muffled and far away in comparison to the overwhelming silence that surrounded her. She wanted to run, to escape this moment and avoid whatever confrontation was about to take place, but she knew that there was no escaping it.

They moved in a hushed and reverent silence, their footsteps echoing against the stony walls as they passed through the winding passages of the castle. Finally, they emerged onto a grand balcony, offering a breathtaking view of the sprawling city of Denerim below. The sky above was a masterpiece of soft pinks and oranges, painting the promise of a new day dawning. But for her, these colours only served as a painful reminder of beginnings she could not partake in.

Darcy leaned against the balustrade, his gaze lost in the sprawling city below. "I should have done more," he said, his voice low. "To save him from this - kingship."

"None of this is your fault," Gwen replied, steadier now, though devoid of feeling, her eyes dulled.

"Isn't it?” His gaze met hers, and she saw the guilt that raged within, a mirror to her own.

Gwen's shoulders slumped, a silent surrender to Darcy's piercing stare. "You tried your best, Darcy. No one blames you. And… Alistair thinks we're working things out," she murmured, her voice barely carrying over the morning breeze that tousled her white hair.

Darcy's expression hardened, the playful light in his dark eyes extinguished by concern. "Is that why you were sobbing outside his room at an ungodly hour of the morning? Because you were ‘working things out’? I'm not stupid, Gwen. You're leaving. To keep him safe, right?" His question hung between them like a guillotine's blade, sharp and final.

The truth tore at her throat, but Gwen could only nod, her energy sapped by the weight of her decision. "Are you going to try to convince me to stay? Tell Alistair so he runs after me before I can make my escape?" Her words, laced with a brittle defiance, like a terrified beast cornered in a cage.

"Convince you?" Darcy chuckled ruefully, the sound void of any real mirth. "I know better than to try, I would only push you further away.”

Gwen hated that he was right. "It's my choice to go," Gwen added softly, her hand brushing against Darcy's arm in a subtle gesture of reassurance. "And it's my pain to carry. Not yours."

“Maybe.” He reached into his cloak, producing a sealed letter. "But I won't let you suffer alone because of me."

Gwen eyed the parchment warily, accepting it with a tremor in her hand. "What is this?"

"Vigil's Keep," Darcy said, his voice softening. "It's to be the new Grey Warden base in Ferelden. If you don’t hate me and can stand to be in my presence, I'll join you there once I've settled matters here in the city. This letter will allow you entry. You know Alistair will never stop searching for you if you vanish without a trace. At least give him the comfort of knowing that you are safe.”

Hate him? Impossible. And he had a point. She could barely believe it, this glimmer of hope that maybe she wouldn’t have to be entirely alone, isolated until she died a horrible death. Gwen closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him in a rare display of affection. She felt his body stiffen for a moment before he relaxed into the hug, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with tears she refused to shed. Pulling back, she met his gaze, her eyes swimming with gratitude and a sorrow too deep for words.

Darcy's hand rested on her arm. "I wish you'd stay. You and Alistair… you deserve happiness together."

"Perhaps in another life," Gwen replied, her laugh hollow. "Where kings don't need queens, and monsters aren't disguised as maidens."

"You’re not a monster, Gwen,” Darcy was quick to correct. “At least promise me you'll find some peace at Vigil's Keep," he said, his tone insistent, as though his words alone could will it into being.

"I promise," she lied. Though she would join him at the base, she knew she would not find peace without Alistair - without her heart.

With a final squeeze of her hand, Darcy released his hold and stepped back, allowing Gwen the space to breathe, to brace herself for the journey ahead. They exchanged a look of mutual understanding.

"Take care of him," Gwen’s stomach heaved, begging her not to do this.

"Always," Darcy replied, his vow ringing with the certainty of the rising sun.

With that, they parted ways, each stepping onto paths paved with good intentions and haunted by the spectres of what might have been.

Gwen's footsteps were silent against the stone corridor, a ghostly echo of the resolve that propelled her forward. The door to Leliana's chamber loomed ahead, an inevitable threshold, and just as her hand reached out to rap against the heavy oak, it swung inward.

Leliana stood in the doorway, her sharp blue eyes meeting Gwen's with a knowing stillness that had dread churning in her gut. "Where will you go?" she asked, voice steady as if discussing the weather rather than a farewell. She should have known that Leliana would have been able to surmise her plans with only one look.

"The new Warden compound," Gwen murmured, clasping her hands to keep them from trembling. "With Darcy. Though I… need some time on my own first."

Leliana sighed, the air leaving her lungs like the quiet deflation of hope. "You should stay. Alistair… you both—"

"Don't." Gwen's voice was soft but firm, cutting through the beginnings of Leliana's plea. She couldn't bear to hear what she already knew, what she longed for but could not claim.

As if moved by some unseen force, Leliana stepped forward and enfolded Gwen in a hug that held within it every shared moment of laughter, every whispered secret, every shard of pain they had confided in each other.

"I'll miss you," Leliana whispered, her breath warm against Gwen's ear. "I will write. Often."

"Thank you," Gwen managed, her throat tight as she hugged the rogue back, allowing herself this one more moment of vulnerability. She would have to ask Darcy to read the letters for her.

Pulling away, Leliana dabbed at her eyes, a small smile flickering on her lips. "Now off with you before you make me cry and ruin my makeup. I spent much too long putting it on."

Gwen's hand trembled slightly as she gave a forced nod and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She turned on her heel, the sound of her boots echoing against the stone floor, each step taking her further away from Leliana, her friend and a piece of herself. The weight of their final conversation hung heavy in the air as Gwen walked down the winding hallway, her heart heavy with regret and uncertainty. As the door to Leliana's chambers closed behind her, Gwen couldn't shake off the feeling of finality, things would never be the same again.

She slipped out of the castle gates as the city of Denerim stirred to life behind her, but Gwen walked on, oblivious to the awakening world. Her mind was a jumble, thoughts snarled like brambles, but her feet carried her unerringly northward.

Gwen walked until the city faded into the distance behind her. With each step, she felt as if she were wading through deep water, her limbs heavy and sluggish. The numbness spread through her body like a creeping frost, settling into her bones until she could barely feel the impact of her boots against the packed earth of the road.

It was a small mercy, that numbness. It wrapped her like a shield, blunting the jagged edges of her sorrow until everything felt muted and far away. She clung to it desperately, afraid of what would happen if she lowered her guard and allowed herself to feel the full force of her anguish.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the light seemed to pierce through the haze in her mind. Unbidden, memories of Alistair surfaced - the warmth of his smile, his arms around her, the steadfast devotion in his eyes when he looked at her. Gwen's steps faltered as pain lanced through her chest. She had left her heart behind in that castle, entrusted to the man who held it so gently in his hands.

Shaking her head sharply, Gwen quickened her pace as if she could outrun the ache inside her. North, north, she had to keep going north. One foot in front of the other. Don't look back. She fixed her eyes on the horizon, squinting against the glare of the sun. She just had to keep moving. If she stopped, she would shatter.

Hours passed, the sun arced across the sky, and Gwen's shadow stretched and dwindled in the dance of light and dark. It wasn’t until the embers of twilight began to glow that she found herself in a clearing within the forest, unsure as to how she got there.

Here, Gwen allowed her knees to buckle, and she crumpled to the forest floor. The dam she'd built around her grief burst, and her tears fell, unrestrained, soaking into the earth below. She cried out to the moon above, its silvery light a cold witness to the agony that wracked her body with sobs.

Gwen curled in on herself, her shoulders shaking with the force of her weeping. Behind her closed eyes, she pictured Alistair waking in the cold light of dawn, alone and confused in the rumpled sheets. She imagined the servants rushing in, ushering him from his bed to prepare for his coronation. She saw him scanning the crowded throne room, his eyes searching hopefully for her face among the mass of people. But she was not there. The pain and hurt that would cloud his once hopeful features upon realizing she had left nearly rent her in two. Would he believe she did not love him, or would he understand her reasons for leaving?

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she released the anguish that had been building within her since she slipped away from his sleeping form. She missed him with a fierceness that frightened her. But she could not turn back now.

Gwen wept until she had no tears left, her body wracked by dry, heaving sobs. She had given the man she loved everything, save the one thing he truly wanted - her by his side. It was a sacrifice that carved out her soul, but one she would pay over and over if it meant sparing his life.

Exhausted and heartsick, Gwen finally quieted as the moon rose high above. She lay curled on the forest floor, too spent to even unfurl her bedroll.

"Alistair… please forgive me," she gasped between heaving breaths. She thought the Gods had finally allowed her one thing, only to realize the cruelty of giving her everything she wanted only to have it so brutally ripped away. It would have been a kindness to never let her feel love like that, for the chasm it left behind threatened to consume her whole.

The moon, in its silent vigil, offered no comfort, no answers. It simply observed as Gwen wept beneath its gaze, mourning the life she could never have, the love she left behind, and the identity she must forever conceal.

Next Chapter

A/N: So, uh, anyone ask for a big heaping of angst? I hope you liked it cause there is plenty more of that before they get their happy ending!

I highly suggest Absence by Rio Romero, a truly stunning song that I feel really encapsulates this chapter. I've got a whole playlist, would anyone like me to post it?

I’m probably going to be posting a chapter a day from now on (around 10am to 11am EST), I’ve been getting a lot of editing done this weekend :)

I'd really love to hear what you think!!

#angst with a happy ending #fluff #slow burn #falling in love #humour #alistair dao #alistair dragon age #alistair theirin #alistair x original character #so much angst #leliana #original warden #dragon age origins #king alistair

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gwennastor · 11 months ago

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If she was being honest with herself, it was a little bit of a dream come true. Having known him for so long took away the fear of the intimacy, and knowing from the night before that he knew what he was doing with her took away any fears that she might have to sacrifice one for the other. Gwen would let surprise wash over her later, breath catching in her throat as his fingers tightened between hers.

His hands were another thing. Hardly the first time someone ever held her hand, Gwen was unraveling the new ways that things felt when they were done by him. For one, his hands never left. She kept waiting, feeling his hips as they hastened their pace, swearing at any moment the time would come and it never did. It was the least intimate thing they were doing between everything else and somehow also the most. A gentle reminder and one she couldn’t shake with a sly comment of avoidance.

His moan caught in his throat, spilling into the air and making her skin hot. At first it was torture, an agonizing pace with the only relief in how good it felt to be filled. But it wasn’t enough, not even for him, and he picked up his pace and a cascade of moans flowed from his mouth. Gwen fought to keep her eyes fully open, hanging halfway dazed as she watched his come undone above her. And then, when she felt herself rising with him, he slowed right up until he stopped with staggering breaths. A helpless sound came when he pulled out of her, unconscious of the noise before she made it.

Gwen opened her mouth to resist the action, even if it was at the expense of shortening the experience. It wasn’t a matter of short minutes and even if it had been, she already knew it wouldn’t be the last. Even now she could already imagine her fingers reaching for him, legs sprawled against him in a vye for another go. He quickly pulled her and locked her in his grasp, tongue diving in before she could protest and by then her words turned into sounds. At first her body slid a few inches up the bed, almost resistant to the action, feeling like she couldn’t come again so fast after he’d spent his time so thoroughly the first time. She felt swollen, nearly overworked, unsure if she could handle more. “I don’t know if I can..” It didn’t take long for her to be proven wrong, shoulders sinking as the pleasure washed over her again. His tongue was warm, sinking into her as her back rose in response, sweat pilling along her cheeks.

Gwen had spent the better half of their friendship with her hand at his neck, pushing and pulling him wherever her heart desired and whenever that whim might be. This hand softened and extended gentle guidance, and there was a new tenderness in how she touched him. It was a strange shift, not only in how she looked at him but how it felt to be with him. Every look felt like adoration, like her skin might have restored itself to marble and perched itself on a pillar. She felt her chest opening up as if they were windows letting air in, exposed to the sun in all her glory, in awe and terrified all at once.

Instead of her usual urge to grab at him, Gwen felt her shoulders sinking into the bed and still somehow feeling lighter. It wasn’t this ragged need to clutch his skin, at least not yet. He was slow, at first, at a pace that felt so perfect she could feel the hair rising on the back of her neck. He moaned into her mouth and she sucked in his breath before letting out some of her own, one hand closing its hold on his shoulder. It wasn’t slow or too fast, and Gwen eagerly met his strokes with her own hips.

She felt her heart as if it might be growing in size, a weird lump in her throat as he obeyed her, never taking his eyes from hers. Gwen watched as he linked their fingers above their head, leaving his gaze for a moment to catch the action in its movement. Each stroke pushed her up a peg, almost as if savoring it would just make her want it more. It didn’t feel like rushing to finish the race, more like he was trying to say something to her without using words.

The question was so innocent and thoughtful Gwen nearly thought he might be testing her. A weak ‘yeah’ was all she could muster, catching the light in his eyes as he asked. “Oh, God no.” She answered quickly through a heated breath, half a laugh in her response. The build up had already started to create an itch, each moan they shared making her less and less patient. Sex with your best friend was supposed to be rushed, more like the night before, hands all over like they’d never touch skin again. But their bodies worked in tandem as if they might have become one, like a strained wire finally coming to a snap. She recalled how many times she thought she might actually really feel love for someone and what that was like, but it never felt anything like this.

“Don’t stop.” Pleading as she squeezed her fingers through his own and used the other to slide along his chest, holding his shoulder with her hand. Gwen watched him in awe with half open eyes, meeting his hips with equal speed. She wanted to crawl into his skin and meld her flesh with his own. As he quickened his pace, her moans got louder, brows lifting at the way moans were leaving his mouth right in front of her very eyes. “Deeper,” she breathed. “Go deeper.”

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thenerdyindividual · 2 years ago

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Merlin Week Day 2: Favorite story arc(s) or themes -- Morgana’s Bastardization Arc

Also crossposted to ao3

Okay so this one might be a bit controversial, but my favorite character arc in Merlin, is Morgana’s. I think it was incredibly well done.

It all comes down to one line that she says to Arthur as early as season 1, “Sometimes you have to do what’s right and damn the consequences”. In the first two seasons, we see only the positive aspects of that belief. It makes Morgana one of the most outspoken and determined characters in the show. She disregards the risks to herself in order to help people.

In Season 1, Episode 3, she risks herself twice to do what she thinks is the right thing, and the audience would agree is the right thing. First, she stands up to Uther on Gwen’s behalf, and argues a pro sorcery stance. She claims that even if Gwen were responsible for healing her father, it doesn’t make Gwen evil. It makes Gwen kind, someone who doesn’t wish someone she cares about suffer. Given Uther’s attitudes on magic, and his power over her, that is an incredibly risky point to argue. She does it anyway because it could save Gwen. Later in the same episode she risks her life in a more visceral way by going after the Afanc with Arthur and Merlin. At the time, she did not yet have her magic, but she knew Arthur would need all the help he could get, and she was willing to risk herself to give it to him. In Season 1, Episode 8, she rescues young Mordred, gets caught, and still helps. It doesn’t matter to her that Uther is threatening to execute the person helping Mordred, she knows that leaving a child to die is wrong, so she helps concoct a plan to get him away from Camelot at great risk to herself. She goes with Merlin to Ealdor in Season 1, episode 10 though she would be facing down armed bandits, simply because Merlin is her friend, and it isn’t right to leave him to fight alone. He’d helped her, so she wants to help him even if it means a risking herself.

She has an argument with Uther in Season1, Episode 12 that eerily parallels the argument she had in Episode 3. Once again, she argues for mercy on behalf of someone accused of sorcery. In this case, it’s Gwen’s father. This episode marks the first time we see the shadows on the edges of her belief in “Do what’s right and damn the consequences”. This is where she first turns against Uther and allies herself with Toren. As an audience, we bring our personal ethics to this situation. It is hard to disagree with Morgana’s motivations for wanting to assassinate Uther, which makes it difficult to disagree with the action of assassinating him. (In this case, Merlin’s internal conflict stands in for the audience is experiencing.) Importantly, Gaius provides insight on how destructive Morgana’s self-righteous actions can be. He makes the very important point that Arthur is not ready to be king. He is young and still unexperienced. Killing Uther would cause Camelot to erupt in chaos, and an unexperienced king on the throne at a time when peace treaties are not well upheld, could lead to war. (And though Gaius does not explicitly say that it would lose countless lives, we as an audience know that soldiers aren’t the only people who die in war). This is the first instances in which it is shown that Morgana’s focus on personal consequences ignores societal consequences. This marks the beginning of Morgana’s descent into madness.

In Season 2, Uther’s actions further turn her against him. Once again, it’s difficult to argue against her desire to see him removed from power by any means necessary. He’s caused untold harm in his time as king. However, her justifiable hatred of Uther, also blinds her to Arthur’s virtues. In Season 2, Episode 4, she truly believes that Arthur isn’t going after Gwen when she is kidnapped. Despite knowing that Arthur has already defied Uther in order to save Merlin’s life, she sees Arthur not arguing with Uther as a betrayal of their friend, rather than what it actually is. A tactic to keep Uther’s eyes off of him while he prepares to go after her anyway. In a scene that will parallel her relationship to Arthur for the rest of the series, Arthur says, “If you would stop shouting at me, you would notice that I am packing!” She is so caught up in her righteousness that she can’t see that Arthur is doing the best with the situations he is given. For the rest of the series she believes that he is not fit to be king because he does not legalize magic, while ignoring that he inherited Uther’s enemies, magical and non-magical alike.

Season 2 is also where Morgana allies herself with Morgause. She is so relieved to find someone else like her, she once again doesn’t stop to think about the greater social consequences of Morgause’s plan. She doesn’t stop to think that the Knights of Medhir will kill anyone in their way to get to Uther, and once again doesn’t consider how killing Uther with no plan for after could lead to more deaths than Uther causes. By Season 3, her righteousness has condemned not just Uther, but Camelot as a whole. She wants to burn it all down and leave the rubble behind. She thinks that action is morally correct and if she gets caught and killed for her actions, then so be it. It will still have laid a ground work for magical freedom. What she does not stop to consider, when she is animating skeletons to kill people, is that there are people who live in Camelot who might be on her side concerning magic, but have no way of standing up to the king. She doesn’t care that they might be killed in her war on Uther, to her they are an invisible block of people. Which considering that she doesn’t know Merlin has magic, but does know he agrees with her that magic isn’t evil, is especially foolish. She is still doing what is right, and damn the consequences, but not considering all the consequences.

What finally condemns her to her destined path is not her desire to bring magic back to Camelot, it is her desire for power. When people complain about Morgana being the villain for trying to help people, they miss that Morgana’s motivations changed. Morgana doesn’t seem to realize it either, which is a lovely bit of commentary on how her righteousness blinded portions of the audience too. When she finds out she is Uther’s daughter and has a rightful claim to the throne, her motivation is no longer the desire to bring magic back. It is her slogan to get people on her side, but that isn’t why she’s doing it. She’s attacking Arthur for the throne because she subconsciously wants the power, she thinks she deserves it. In Season 3 and 4, when she speaks to Agravaine and Morgause about Gwen ascending to the throne, she does not express frustration that she cannot use the power the throne gives her to bring magic back if Gwen is queen. She expresses disgust over Gwen ascending at all, saying, “In my dreams that peasant sits upon my throne”. Morgana might think she plans to use the throne as a tool to bring magic back, but the two times she manages to capture Camelot, she makes no moves towards that goal. Instead, she spends her time terrorizing the knights and the commoners.

She has been living in her righteousness for so long that she has twisted herself into thinking that anything she does is right, and therefore any consequences that happen are a necessary evil. Season 1 Morgana would never have thought to fire into a crowd of innocent people to punish the knights. If Uther had tried anything half as heinous as that, Morgana would have gotten herself thrown in the dungeons or killed from arguing with him. Yet, Season 3 Morgana takes the action unprompted to try to solidify support for her claim to her throne. Season 1 Morgana would have been horrified at the thought of starving prisoners and making them fight against well-armed soldiers while they had nothing but a wooden sword to defend themselves. Yet, Season 4 Morgana does exactly that to Gwaine, for no other reason than she hates him. To her, these are the consequences others must face for doing what they think is right.

Queen Annis said in best in Season 4, Episode 4, “I am afraid you are more like Uther than you want to admit”.

Morgana’s devotion to doing what’s right but damn the consequences is exactly what leads her down her dark path. She loses her heart in her self-righteousness. She cannot see the shades of grey the way she used to, she can only see right.

#merlinweek2022 #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #morgana pendragon #morgana #merlin meta #bbc merlin meta #merlin bbc meta #morgana meta #morgana pendragon meta #my meta #merlin week 2022

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12pt-times-new-roman · 2 years ago

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c3e36 — whitestone is for lovers

4+ hour episode!

"there's lots of lore in here because I have a problem" — quick someone find all the hidden lore in the tarot cards

oh my god please let Fearne try to steal from Keyleth

The reason Keyleth's attempt to resurrect Will and Derrig failed was because the swords were imbued with a toxin. It was a particular type of extremely rare venom, extremely expensive, designed to deny the working of divine magic.

That is for FUCKING SURE frigid woe.

Which is an Aeorian disease that the mages of Aeor manufactured to prevent magical healing, so that they could fight the agents of the gods without having to worry about their divine healing.

"Frigid woe is a special disease developed by Aeor's mages that cannot be cured by conventional treatment or magic. The only way a creature infected with the disease can be cured is by finding and drinking the manufactured antidote, a milky liquid stored in gold vials found in Eiselcross' ruins."

Cassandra is in Lyrengorn on business. This is a very small city in the northernmost reaches of Tal'dorei, and it's famous for the "Moonweaver's Ribbons," the northern lights.

The lord is in his office

one of the de Rolo children is stalking them through Castle Whitestone

Keyleth Got A Message

Her response— "Of course. Yes, no, I understand, I'll — I'll be there as soon as possible."

Vasselheim is planning a huge celebration on the solstice to reinforce and renew the divine wards around the city and to enact massive rituals not usually achievable.

There are also a lot of people doing a lot of things. Agents of the Betrayer Gods, mages, arcanists, people gathering rare materials and crafting usually-unachievable rituals — etc, etc, etc. Otohan and whatever the fuck she's up to is, for all she and the Hells know, a tiny blip on Keyleth's radar.

"My current focus with the other Ashari leaders is a rogue faction in Issylra, but the less you know, the better." that's definitely the place the Blightstar ship came from, yeah? or maybe whatever remains of the Hishari?

"[The Changebringer] is one of the good ones, one of the freer ones, one of the more fun ones... if you like where the winds can carry you, you might like the path that she leads. If faith is your thing."

Percy keeps his mask up on the wall so it's looking out over his office.

Talisein unconsciously mimicking Percy's mannerisms is so fucking funny to me, especially since it's pretty clear Matt is doing the same thing behind the screen

Percy is an excellent father and you cannot take this away from me.

"I know it's early, but if you would, please wake Pike Trickfoot and summon her to the castle. If she's not at home, she might be at the bakery."

my heart is so full

Gwen named the wolf Chetney carved for her Galdric ;-;

AND VEX??

oh that's right, Vex would age a bit slower than Percy because she's a half-elf

"She was the woman that Laudna was... she's very beautiful." Imogen my heart

we talk so so much about old adventuring parties helping out new ones and doing things for them, or about how the actions they take will affect future campaigns. but this is an instance of the Bells Hells, a level seven party, presenting an opportunity to 20th-level world leaders to at least partially undo something that has been plaguing them for decades. to make right something they thought would always be wrong, and to do it in a way that really, actually matters. "we have to help them. darling, we have to."

"I can feel her soul. It's adrift-- not yet beyond our reach, that's good. What... there's something else here. There's something... it's holding her back, I can't — Percy?"

"There's two souls bound to this body, and I can't separate them. Not like this." "Two souls?" "Yeah. And one of them is Delilah Briarwood."

akdjfgshj

yeeeeeah, Percy ain't gonna let this happen

"When you call a spirit back, you have to call out to the spirit and be like, 'hey, come back,' and they say 'yeah okay' or 'no thanks,' but I can't even talk to your friend because Delilah's there."

If Pike finishes the ritual, there's no telling which spirit will return.

Vex wants to find a solution, Percy doesn't want to take the risk

"Wasn't your soul held by another? What did your friends do?" GET HIS ASS ORYM

"What if we could get rid of her for good?" "Then do so. Without my aid."

"Darling, at least let them try... I mean... we both have some fault in this, don't we?" "Then tell me if you find a way that is satisfactory, but do nothing without my approval. Delilah stays gone."

Beau would get into so many fucking fights with Percy, I would pay money to see them interact. Cobalt Soul Whitestone branch when?

Pike thinks there might be scripture of the Everlight that could help them with exorcism or separating the soul but it's not her specialty, so now they're all gonna go back to her house to look, I guess?? and then maybe to Vasselheim?

"Do we need the old guy? Do we need that fucker?" Ashton follows Percy as he leaves??

"I just wanna say a piece, maybe make an offer. I don't like to lose." "I suggest you get used to the idea." "Let me tell you, I have. I have lost everything, everybody. I have had a lifetime of bad hits, problems, lost people, promises broken, people died, it is the background of my daily life. I have died. This is madness up here, this is not something that just fucking happens. This is what happens when the universe really doesn't like you and decides it wants to keep you around a little while longer. And then I met these people, and life changed in a very intense way. Not in a lovey-dovey 'I've found love and friends' way. The world got weird, there is weird shit happening, and now I'm feeling very small in a very big world, when I used to feel very small in a very small world and that's where I was comfortable... I'm not here for love, or happiness, or joy, or whatever the fuck— I'm here because it's important." "Don't lose that anger. Use it to build. To create. And guard it with your life... I'm not sunsetting the idea. But I need certainties. My children will not grow up in a world where that woman exists. And if you bring [Delilah] back, I will send you all to the same place I will send her. For my family."

I really want to know how much of that was Ashton being genuine, and how much of it was them trying to convince Percy of something in a way they thought would work.

TRINKET!!! BABY TRINKETS!!!

"Must be nice to get people to do what you want them to do just by growling at them, not by having to explain yourself. I'm jealous."

I am rotating Ashton in my head like they are in a microwave. They have such an interesting brand of self-deprecating hubris, such a confidence in their fatalistic tendencies, I cannot wait for them to break. I cannot wait for the moment they just break the fuck down, 'cause Ashton's disposition is like stone -- they'll never bend, they'll never yield, but when they break it will be fucking catastrophic. And when they do, I really hope that they're forced to accept that people care about them and that they care about people. Caleb's journey to that conclusion was slow and gradual and we saw every step of the way— Ashton's, I think, will be a cliff that they're pushed off of before they learn to fly.

Pike has some ideas for rituals that could help!

One seems like an astral projection type thing, very old and very powerful. The Bells Hells would need to go to where Laudna is being held by Delilah, and then separate the two of them long enough for Pike to pull Laudna away.

When a soul passes on, they go to whatever realm best matches their faith or alignment. But Laudna was in a "cold, separate" space that Pike had never felt before, and it felt "very much like Delilah." Like a fucking demiplane or something?

FCG's soul is a "unique, strange, semi-translucent light... not as bright as hers, but present, this fuzzy sparkle. As you turn your hands, you can see them shifting and moving, almost like electrical pulses, but not electricity, not arcane— it's hard to explain. You just feel warm."

"It means that you're alive. And it looks like you already have eyes on you." FCG saw the symbol of the Changebringer on their soul.

did FCG just alert Vex that the party has residuum?

YEP

YES THEY DID

"And if it goes right, we are at your service." Hm. That's something I actually hadn't considered. Vox Machina would have no reason to intervene in something that the Bells Hells are dealing with if VM knew that they were handling it. So if the Hells tell them about Otohan and that they're confident they can deal with her, VM will have no reason to get involved until after the Hells have already failed (if they fail), at which point it's probably too late anyway.

.....The Hells didn't pass through the Divine Gate when they astral projected out to wherever Laudna and Delilah are.

They're standing on a stone floor that's covered in black fog.

FCG looks a little more amorphous; whereas everyone else is crisp and defined, the shape of them is more ethereal and fuzzy. "It's not the metal that's defining the spirit; it's more like the shape that resides within is taking form."

In this landscape, there are bits of gravel and dark gray stone, all in grayscale. There are cliffs that drop off, and areas where the fog just... stops. Beyond the immediate vicinity, sound cannot travel, like the void does not allow vibrations to transmit.

Oh this is super fucking inspired by Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous. If anyone has played that game, this sounds very very similar to Aryshulae's dream realm.

There's a faint smell of vegetable rot, like a bog or compost. The wind is voices. Whispers. Multitudes. Sourceless, genderless, distant and beyond the fog.

yo that is an awesome use of the immovable rod. Ashton has affixed it underneath their bracers, so they can activate it and hold on if they fall.

As they move forward, spire-like rock formations get taller and more frequent — a valley of rock needles, until eventually they push up past beyond the fog. Some of them begin to grow branches and the whispers grow louder. "There she is." "Get her." Eventually, they get to a petrified forest — petrified or mimicked by stone, they can't tell. The ground is mimicking pitfalls, bushes, ferns — but it's all stone.

There's a built structure, like a cabin or hut, and there's a firelight coming through the window. Near it, the whispers get louder. "Hit her! She's here! Where? Gather them up, burn it down. The witch, the witch is here."

oh.

oh no.

how long has Laudna been here? hollow ones don't have a soul. so has Laudna's soul been here ever since she died, trapped by Delilah?

"There is a cot, a stone fireplace resembling the stones gathered from the forest, and within it a small fire burns. There is a small table and a stool, and on the table, you see tools— a pair of scissors, a knife. The body of a rat. On the stool, you see a shadow shape, a black flame barely holding there, flickering in and out of existence... you don't feel like she's there, but you see the shape of Laudna sitting there, making something at the table... you see a small purple light that just kind of sits in her chest."

The whispers get louder. "There she is! There's the witch, burn her!" The black flame vanishes, the fire curls up, and the stone cabin begins to burn. A bunch of shadows converge on the cabin, and start initiative!

ohhhh. maybe these are Laudna's memories (making it even more inspired by Pathfinder WotR btw). maybe she tried to make a life for herself outside of Whitestone or some other city and got chased away for being a "witch." maybe that's why she was on the run when she found Imogen. maybe we'll get to see the scene when she and Imogen met.

and that would also track. because what if all of this shit is stone and grayscale because these aren't actual memories, but neurological imprints left on the physical form of Laudna? things that were never experienced by the soul, never imprinted on the soul, but were in the body, so now they're here like echoes?

Ashton rage build update: Tal finally rolled possibility! also, their entire astral form flickers with the energy of their rage, not just their head. an ally within 10 feet of Ashton (including themself) can add 1d4 to attacks and saving throws. it's essentially a 10-foot radial bless that lasts for as long as they maintain their rage. know your enemy is Liam's keen mind of C3, and the possibility rage build is Tal's bless of C3.

yeah. yeahyeahyeah. Imogen said "they always-- that's how they always ran her out of town." so this is a memory of the Laudna we know -- Laudna after she died the first time.

combat done!

maybe it's because the lighting is making it easier to envision all of this in my adhd/asd brain, but it feels like early C3 is much more cinematic than early C2 was.

there's a little alcove underneath the house with roots. the roots lead to a tunnel. this goes to a ziggurat, right? like, this is some kind of fucked up amalgamation of Laudna and Delilah's memories because they were intwined in undeath?

"You're going down, but as you step out, you see sky facing you. A purplish, faintly obscured starscape, like a night sky with purple nebulous cloud in the distance, like you're staring into a cosmic shadow. On the sides, you see more roots, pushing downward. As you step forward, the gravity seems to shift, and suddenly you're emerging from the floor of another forest-like realm around you... you see more of these trees, and then beyond them, a wall, partially crumbled. Rooftops. Not far beyond them, a massive leafless tree, hundreds and hundreds of bare branches looming over this shaded city, with a faint bit of green light drifting out like a mist, filling the city and lighting it from underneath."

#critical role #note watches c3 #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign 3 #critical role liveblog #critical role c3 #this is SO FUCKING COOL #definitely a modified version of the astral project spell in which the caster doesn't actually travel with the targets

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thefuzzyaya · 3 years ago

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My little review of No Way Home under the cut. It's my personal opinion.

Things I liked in NWH:

1) MJ. I loved her so much, my sweet girl. So supportive, so understanding. The best girlfriend Peter ever had really. I don't want Gwen or Mary Jane to be the endgame, I want her to back in Peter's life somehow. People don't talk enough about how good she was in this movie. Same with Ned, though they went with more comic relief in his case.

2) Final scene. Because after three movies we finally got real Spider-man that we all loved: selfmade hero with the full understanding of responsibility he has. He even got DIY suit *tears*

3) How characters from the same universes know each other, because they lived in one city at the same period. Some movies forget to connect character with each other even on this level.

4) Andrew Garfield. I love him. I am so happy we all finally understood how good his Spider-man and Peter was. He owned every scene he was in, even overwhelming fans' favorite Tobey (who was good too).

5) I love how both Tobey and Andrew Peter's were same and very different. They understood each other instantly at some moments, but at the same time they have a very different vibe to them: Tobey being more relaxed and in peace with himself, while Andrew was raw emotions most of the time.

6) Aunt May's characterisation, in terms of her trying to heal and help people, even when others give up on them. I can see Peter taking it from her and holding this as an example for the rest of the franchise.

7) Tobey's cute smile at Ned's grandma. It was cute. (Also, Ned doesn't have parents too?? 😢😢)

Thing I kinda didn't like or thought they could make better.

1) Tom Holland's Peter at the first half of the movie. Don't get me wrong, Tom is very very talented. But his Peter is so stupidly reckless, I was facepalming most of the times. Even without uncle Ben storyline, some of his actions were just... Dumb.

2) How movie showed the "face revealing" problem. I get it, not getting into MIT sucks and all that, but seriously? That is the main problem? Not bad people hunting after Spider-man, or Aunt May being kidnapped or anything really life threatening (beside bad guys appearing from other universes)? Some bad press, three minutes of aggressive crowd and paint on his suit and that's it? I get it, it was hard for him someway, but was it really that bad to actually erase memory of whole human population? The movie even pointed at the stupidity of this, and pointing once again how reckless MCU Peter is. Maybe that was the main idea, but it made me want to bitch slap Peter and actually dislike him at some moments.

3) Even though Andrew and Tobey's entrance was fun and cute, I thought there was a better way to do it.

4) I felt like they didn't quite know themselves what tone to set to this movie. They definitely wanted to go dark, but at the same time they knew that people like jokes and somehow it created some dissonance for me.

5) This movie was very very very predictable. Sorry. Maybe it's just me, but I wanted it to give me more in term of "exceed the expectations". Personally I would have changed some fanservice for "NO WAY" moments. First move had an interesting twist at the end, the second one managed to show the illusions on the level where even the audience didn't know where it ends. This one didn't have any moments like this.

Overall it was a good movie, but it was relying on fanservice so much, that it actually forget to make the story even better. It will definitely pass the "cinema test" (when movie looks good on big screen for the first time), but I feel like after watching it two-three times the flaws will appear bigger.

It could have been better, it could have been the best movie for Spider-Man. And that's the most bitter part of it.

#Spider-man No Way Home #Spider-man: no way home #no way home #spider-man no way home spoilers #nwh spoilers

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amazing-spiderling · 2 years ago

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Do you ship Gwen with anyone in particular? If no strong opinions there, any Gwen headcanons?

You know for me it's really important that Gwen is able to exist as a character outside of any romantic relationships just because the original incarnation of the character was defined for so long as Peter Parker's dead girlfriend. And she was great and intelligent and when they wrote her death the concept of "fridging" wasn't a thing yet It was basically unheard of to kill off a love interest, but for decades we just remembered Gwen Stacy as the girl who died.

I think it was really important for them to not only define the fact that she didn't view any of her relationships as romantic, whether it was with Peter or with Harry or anyone else in her universe. There is a lot of complexity to those relationships, we even see MJ getting upset that Gwen is not cognizant of the fact that Peter holds her in such high regard if he isn't outright in love with her. Even Harry and Gwen viewed their relationship as something different from one another. And that's sort of great. Don't get me wrong we're rooting for Gwen the whole time but it does show how she can be a little bit oblivious to things that are happening outside of her own head. And I think that it's really important for a person to have a good sense of who they are before they start getting into romantic relationships with other people. Gwen is definitely still figuring that out in most of her comics. I think Gwen even realizes that herself which is why she pulls the brakes on any sort of budding romance between her and Miles. That being said if that ever happened down the line in future comics for real, I would kind of shrug and say sure that makes sense. Why not?

Now I think her platonic and adversarial chemistry with so many characters is amazing! The friendly rivalry that she has with MJ that turns to something pretty ugly and isn't ever really resolved (well I'm not entirely sure where we're going to stand after Gwen-Verse) is pretty meaty. The strange indebtedness she has to Cindy Moon for creating the spider that gave her her powers in the first place is certainly the kind of thing that can rock a person's foundations. And of course playing the unwitting hero to Murderdock's machinations is narrative gold. (I don't think it's any coincidence that the only way she is able to dig herself out of her hole is by facing consequences and standing firm in her sense of personal identity through them.) Right now I think it is the most important thing for Gwen to "date herself" because she'd be the first person to admit she still has a lot of figuring herself out to do.

And I don't think this would ever happen, especially considering recent spider verse events, but I think the juxtaposition of Gwen and Noir (who is much younger than his movie counterpart) could be really fun? He's classic swing jazz, she's rock and roll, what more can I say? (Okay really I don't think Gwen would date any version of Peter Parker because it would just be too weird for her but I do like the idea of the contrast between his muted universe and her crazy vaporwave world.)

I'm not sure if I have any specific Gwen Stacy headcanons but I do have a lot about Earth 65 in general. One of them is more or less supported by the comics but, I think that public opinion changed significantly while she was in prison. Well of course you can't get any group of people to completely agree on a matter, I think she went from having a much less divisive role in the public in her world, and it was her own actions and willingness to take responsibility that caused that. I think if she had been unable to go to 616 to attend school she still would have managed fine in her world, it just would have been more complicated because for every person who wasn't willing to give her a chance or a job there would have been two who were trying to use her celebrity to their advantage.

Also, I love joking about how Gwen would respond to a heroic Matt Murdock as much as the next person, but I think after an initial shock she would be totally fine. She's jumped all over the universe and seen all different versions of herself and Peter Parker, I think she's well acquainted with the fact that very little is absolute. If anything I think she would think it was funny and have hope she ran into Murdock or Nelson back in her universe again just so she could tell them and laugh at the confusion on their faces. But I also don't think she goes out of her way while in other universes to hunt for all the Easter eggs in all the ways their worlds are different. I think once you realize that in most versions of the universe you're dead and it's very sad and everyone is bummed out about it... You're probably less inclined to go poking around for no reason.

Oh, but if Gwen ever did encounter a universe like ours where the Spider-Man comics are just media that everybody consumes, I would really love for her to get her hands on the Mexican bootleg comics where the publishers refuse to kill off when Stacy like they were supposed to so they just continued the series as though she and Peter got married. I don't think she speaks Spanish but maybe she could bring it back to her roommates for a translation, and everyone would laugh and comment on how dummy thicc the comic book version of her was. XD

#thanks for the ask #gwen stacy #earth 65

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spideyobsessed · 3 years ago

Text

Before It’s Too Late Ch. 2

peter parker x avenger!reader

Synopsis: With all the life changing events taking place, will you ever get to overcome some of your biggest fears?

Might wanna read Ch. 1

You run and run and run until your legs nearly go numb. Bumping into people, tripping over your feet, the sounds of your heavy breathing getting louder and louder. There’s only one thought etching itself into your mind: Tony’s words.

If you got your powers from that thing, then I’m positive you can do a lot more.

A lot more.

Why now? After years of having these abilities, why now? It’s almost like the words he spoke yesterday were a trigger and now they’ve awaken something that’s been dormant inside of you.

I heal and that’s it. I heal and that’s it. This can’t be happening right now.

You finally take a right down an alleyway and slow down to a stop. No words can be strung together to perfectly describe the sensation you’re feeling. It isn’t painful, but you ache. Energy is surging through your veins, but you feel like you need to lay down and rest. You feel anxious, but if the circumstances were different, you can find this quite enjoyable. It’s confusing.

You sit down right next to a dumpster and bring your knees up to your chest, fighting the urge to let out a gut wrenching scream. You can feel something inside of you bubbling up and growing stronger. It’s a tight feeling, like your body is a champagne bottle and the cork is going to skyrocket any minute now. For a brief moment, you come to the conclusion that you are literally going to explode and accept your fate.

...you can do a lot more.

Your hands cover your ears, your thoughts ultimately becoming too loud for you to endure. It’s like all of your senses are heightening, yet numbing all at once. You can’t pull it together. Your face scrunches up as you unintentionally hold your breath. Useless.

Involuntarily, you let out a cry that you’re sure can be heard throughout all of Queens. You feel your body jerk harshly three times before, all at once, everything stops.

A breath of relief escapes your lips as you finally relax your tense body, but the anxiety remains. Nothing new. Your entire physique feels tingly. Too fatigue to immediately spring into action, you remain sitting in your spot.

After a few moments, you take in your surroundings. The alley, although it was noticeably trashed when you entered, looks horrendous. The dumpster is about three feet away from you now. The windows in surrounding buildings are shattered. Several car alarms are blaring.

“What just happened to me?”

- - - - -

“You better keep your little girlfriend in check, Parker.” Flash threatens Peter before purposely bumping into him.

Unfazed by him, Peter turns his attention to Gwen. “Uh, is she..” He trails off.

“Yeah, she’s fine! I should still go check on her though. Best friend duties, ya know?” Gwen chuckles awkwardly.

Ned speaks up, “I totally get that. Being the superior friend comes with a lot of responsibilities.”

Peter furrows his eyebrows before shooting a look at his best friend, who is supposedly superior to him. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Ned says simply, earning a laugh from Peter.

“Exactly! So I gotta go.” Gwen says as she tries to walk away from the dorky pair.

“Can I come with you? I’d like to check on her, if that’s okay.” Peter asks.

If this were any other time, Gwen would’ve agreed before he even finished his sentence. She’s been rooting for you and Peter from the start, along with several other people, considering you two have made your feelings for each other extremely obvious to every except each other. It warms her heart to see your crush of four years finally getting the courage to get to know you.

However, having seen your hands radiating that familiar glow with her own eyes, she has to lie.

“You actually can’t b-because she’s just...on her period?” She lies horribly, but it’s perfect enough to fool two young men.

Peter immediately backs off, understanding that it’s not really his department of expertise. “Yeah I think you got this. Tell her I’ll text her later please?”

“Gotcha. Bye guys!” She waves at them before fast walking in the direction you went.

The two boys stay in place, as quiet as they’ve ever been. Both of them are obviously thinking the exact same thing. They don’t even have to say it out loud, but of course, they do anyway.

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“DUDE!”

“I KNOW!!”

They giggle together happily as they do their signature handshake before sharing a celebratory hug.

“She’s so into you!” Ned cheers when he pulls apart from his best friend.

“Do you really think so?” Peter questions, “That could’ve been strictly platonic.”

“Trust me, man. It wasn’t! She’s practically in love with you!” Ned over exaggerates, but he wasn’t wrong.

Peter doesn’t respond to his comment, but instead looks down at the ground and smiles to himself. “

‘Does she actually like me?’ He thinks.

The short events of today made him even more excited for the party tomorrow. Although he’s nervous and still very doubtful about your feelings for him, he planned on confessing his feelings for you at the party.

Ned continues to ramble on about “the birds and the bees”, (Peter doesn’t even know how he got to that topic), when suddenly chills plaster Peter’s body. He lifts up his arm and sees that every single hair is reaching straight up.

“Spidey sense. So cool.” Ned chuckles.

“Not cool. That means something is wrong, Ned.” Peter states as he begins to let his legs carry him to wherever feels right. Coincidentally, it’s in the direction Gwen just went.

As he rounds the corner, just as you and Gwen did minutes before, he spots the blonde girl standing in the doorway of the girls’ restroom. Before he can even get halfway to her, he watches as you make a beeline for the nearest exit of the school.

“I thought you said she was fine.” Peter says, strolling up next to Gwen.

“I thought you said I got this.” She quickly retorts, hoping he didn’t see your hands or eyes.

“Yeah, well look how that went.” He responds back.

He takes a few steps to walk after you, but comes to an instant halt. Peter turns on his heels and walks back up to Gwen.

“I’m sorry, that was sort of rude.” He apologizes sincerely. He looks back at the door you stormed out of and back at Gwen once more, “I’m just worried about her. Something is telling me to go check on her.”

He lightly jogs to the exit before Gwen can spit out another lie to protect you. Peter pushes the door open with determination, the cool wind breezing against his face. His head snaps left and right, looking for any sign of you.

A group of girls chatting.

Someone rushing through their homework.

A guy skating across campus.

“There she is.” Peter mumbles when he finally spots you.

He’s able to take one step before being yanked backwards by his backpack.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Parker? It’s not even lunch yet.” He hears the voice of his principal.

“Uhh I have gym class next. I was just going to get a head start on my mile.” Peter lies through his teeth with a sheepish grin.

He might be good at fighting crime and protecting his neighborhood, but if there’s one thing Peter can’t do to save his life, it’s lie.

The principal obviously saw right through him and chuckled dryly. With a firm grip still on his backpack, Peter gets walked back into the hallways of his school. His principal even takes it upon himself to watch the young boy walk into his next class, earning laughs and taunts from Mj.

- - - - -

It was only a few minutes into physics whenever Peter’s senses started sounding off alarms in his head again. His eyes scan the classroom, every student with their heads down and focused on their work. He glances at the teacher, who is steadily typing away at her laptop.

“Psst. Ned!”

Ned, who is sitting directly in front of him, turns around, surely prepared to make some outlandish comment. However, upon seeing the worry on his friend’s face, he decides against it.

“Spidey sense?” Ned asks simply.

Peter frantically nods his head, “I’m almost positive it’s Y/n. It feels different. It feels the same way it did whenever I thought she was being followed.”

He takes one more anxious glance around the classroom to make sure none of his classmates were eavesdropping.

“I need you to create a distraction.”

Ned gives him a single nod before swiveling his seat back to its prior position. He obnoxiously clears his throat, “Uh ma’am, I think there’s a mistake on this paper. Here let me show you.” He rises from his seat and as soon as he does, everyone hears a mysterious low rumble.

Peter and Ned make eye contact, knowing that it’s already too late. Whatever Peter was being warned about is already happening. Without a single notice, the entire school is shook by a harsh vibration.

Boom

The students begin to talk amongst themselves worriedly before another vibration strikes. Panicked yelps scattering all around the classroom.

Boom

“Everyone stay calm. There’s no need to get worked up.” The teacher attempts to calm the students, despite sounding panicked herself.

If every fiber in Peter wasn’t going haywire already, there’s no doubt that they are now. It’s almost like he can felt the movements before they happen. He flies out of his chair and peers out the window.

He’s not sure if what he’s witnessing can be seen by everyone or if it’s just his heightened senses. “What the hell is that?” He mumbles to himself.

Peter watches as a violent ray of purple aura heads straight for them, everything in its way viciously convulsing. His heart rate quickens as he turns to face his classmates.

“Everybody get down!” He shouts, the people surrounding him do not waste a second to fling themselves onto the floor.

Peter grabs a hold of Ned and together they hit the deck just in time.

Boom!

A purple wave is washed over them, shattering the large windows in the process. Glass flies everywhere as the terrified shrieks of each individual fills the air.

The wave left just as quick as it came. Peter and Ned are the firsts to pop up from the ground, breathing heavily with shaky limbs. They look out of the broken window and are absolutely astonished by the amount of destruction that was caused in such little time.

“Still think it’s Y/n?” Ned chuckles in amazement.

Peter doesn’t answer because at this point he doesn’t know what to think. He definitely doesn’t want to rule it out. Whether it was you or not, he can only hope that you’re okay...wherever you are.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, we need to evacuate now! Get on your feet and start calling your parents, we need to move!” The teacher instructs.

Everyone hurriedly follows in pursuit.

- - - - -

You let out a groan as you slowly pick yourself up from the floor of the dirty alleyway. Aside from being a little lightheaded and having a slight sharp pain on your side, you’re feeling 100 times better.

You dust yourself off, taking another look around as you do so.

Okay. Maybe that stone isn’t amethyst after all. You admit to yourself.

A dry cough erupts from your throat as you begin to walk to... well you don’t know where you’re going. You don’t want to go home yet, just in case an episode like this happens again. You wouldn’t want to put Alice in danger.

Just as you exit the dimly lit backstreet, an old man with thinning white hair and a white mustache to match it speed walks over to you.

“It’s the damn aliens!” He shouts as he whips out a tinfoil hat.

Where did he get that from??

“It’s the aliens, I say! They’ve finally arrived!” The man continues to yell as he carries on.

He wasn’t the only one in a frenzy. Everyone roamed the streets talking to one another. Theorizing what great threat they think has struck New York now, complaining about their vehicles, using some pretty strong language.

The pit of anxiety residing in your stomach quickly turns to guilt. You’re fully aware that you couldn’t control your actions, but it doesn’t change the fact that you still caused all of this damage. The further you walk, the guiltier you begin to feel.

How far did it reach?

You thought you only affected a block or two at most, but now you are starting to believe you victimized the entire city.

“Kid!” You hear a familiar voice.

You snap your head to the left and see a black vehicle with tinted windows. In the backseat sits none other than Tony Stark.

“You are in huge trouble. Amethyst crystal my ass.” He scolds.

The door pops open, “Get in.”

Not having the energy to argue back, you slide yourself into the car.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” you clarify.

“Well I sure hope not. Happy, to the tower.”

The drive wasn’t long, only about 20 minutes, but the silence made it feel like hours. You’ve tried apologizing multiple times, but every single time you were dismissed by the lift of a hand.

Once in the tower, you didn’t even have time to look around in wonder at all the high tech features of the place. You were put in a room with Tony sitting directly in front of you. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes focused on you, and his leg is bouncing so fast he could drill a hole in the ground. He still has yet to speak a single word.

You open your mouth to say something, but your phone begins to vibrate. Instead of answering, you freeze, not wanting to make Stark even more upset, if that’s possible. You also don’t want to see all the angry texts from Aunt Alice.

“You gonna get that?” Tony questions.

“Oh, he speaks.” You attempt to make a joke, but you’re the only one laughing.

Your smile falters as you take your phone out of your pocket to see who’s calling. Peter.

The smile returns once you lay eyes on the goofy contact picture he took on your phone. As much as you want to answer, you figured it would be better to wait for another time. It would be sort of hard to explain everything. Especially while Tony is shooting daggers into your head.

You take a swift scroll through your texts.

Gwen: That was so cool and kinda scary at the same time! Was that you??

Peter: Hey! Don’t mean to bother, I just wanna check up on you. Sorry I say that a lot haha.

Peter: Text me back when you’re feeling better. I hope you’re okay!

Alice: Y/n, you NEED to call me back. NOW!

Alice: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if you’re safe.

Peter: I also want to say thank you for standing up to Flash for me. Even though I totally could’ve taken him myself! Okay okay, sorry for triple texting!

You send Alice a simple message back just to ease her nerves and not ground you before locking your phone.

You look up to see Tony still staring at you quite intensely. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn he hasn’t blinked yet. You clear your throat.

“Look, Mr. Stark, I really didn’t mean for-“

He cuts you off, “No no no, it doesn’t matter if you meant it or not. That’s not going to reverse what you just did!”

His tone of voice makes your heart shudder, the guilt you were feeling from earlier returning. You decide not to talk again unless he tells you to.

Stark runs a hand through his hair in frustration before cradling his left hand as he pushes himself out of his seat.

“I know you couldn’t control it.” His tone is softer now. “It’s not fair for me to take my anger out on you, I’m sorry.”

You still don’t dare to say another word. He sighs and walks over to the window that has a perfect view of the city.

“I’m not really angry. I’m just...scared.” Tony admits.

This is not the man you’ve been seeing all over the news for years. Tony Stark has never been one to be so vulnerable and open about his feelings. Or anything for that matter. You sure as hell didn’t expect a superhero to ever get scared, much less admit it to someone he barely met yesterday.

“Scared of what?” You ask quietly.

He turns and makes eye contact with you once again, but this time you don’t feel like he’s ready to attack. There’s a beat of contemplation coming from him before he says, “The little outburst you had might’ve sent a signal to a really bad guy. A really bad, really powerful guy. His intentions aren’t the best, and it won’t be long until he comes here.”

You blink a couple of times trying to process what he’s telling you. If an avenger is this scared of some “guy”, then you really have a situation on your hands.

“He’s coming for me?” You squeak.

Tony returns to his seat in front of you, “Not technically. But he will be coming for the stone that you have locked away in a desk drawer.”

“So if I’m in the way...”

“He won’t be afraid to move you.” Stark affirms.

You sink down in your chair, taking it all in. How has your life completely flipped upside in just two days. Two days! Just as you might finally get a chance with Peter after crushing on him for so long, you possibly just devastated the entire city. Maybe the entire country. Maybe the planet. You don’t really know how bad it is, but you feel too sick to your stomach to bother asking.

“How long until this dude gets here.” You ask.

Tony snorts at your usage of the word “dude” when describing someone who has destroyed multiple planets, but of course, you don’t know that yet.

“Our very own time telling wizard gives us about a week. A week and a half, if we’re lucky.” He answers.

“Great.” You sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

You take a look at Tony, who sends you a sympathetic smile. You return a defeated one, tears burning at the corner of your eyes.

“We’re not going down without a fight, kid. That’s the one thing I can promise you.” He says sincerely, trying to make you feel better.

Although you appreciate the sentiment, you don’t respond in fear that the lump in your throat will make your voice crack. Instead you change the subject.

“Why do you keep nursing your arm like it’s a defenseless baby goat?” You ask, earning a hearty laugh from the man in front of you.

“Well after 10 years of being one of earth’s mightiest heroes, you’re gonna walk away with some battle scars.” Tony explains.

You let out a light chuckle, almost forgetting exactly who you’re talking to. With a smirk on your face, you stand on your feet and walk towards him, “May I?”

He scoffs and gives you a strange look, but nonetheless, offers his hand. You take it with both of yours and close your eyes. It isn’t long until you feel the warmth of your energy flowing through your veins and to your palms. Tony watches in amazement as his hand is engulfed by the same sensation that shook the city just hours ago.

You finally let go and open your eyes just in time to see the dumbfounded look on his face. He closes his hand into a fist, and then opens it as he wiggles his fingers around.

“Who’s the happy fingers now?” You tease. “I can’t heal 10 years of injury after injury in one sitting, but it should feel a little better now.”

Tony is still shocked beyond belief. All he can do is let out small breathy chuckles and stare at this hand that’s nearly good as new.

“Y/n.” He manages to say.

You’re shocked to hear him say your actual name. Weirded out even.

Stark finally puts down his hand and gives you a look of astonishment.

“How would you like to be an avenger?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. Tony Stark, aka IRONMAN, wants you to be an avenger. After you’ve wrecked miles and miles of property, he’s asking you to be an avenger?!

“What? I mean...w-what?!” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You want me to- even after every- I can’t..I-I..” All you can do is stammer.

“Well don’t say yes too quick” Stark rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just that I didn’t even know the avengers were a thing anymore. I also don’t know the first thing about being a superhero. All I do is heal tiny animals and cure hangovers.” You ramble.

Tony stands whiles still wiggling his hand around, enjoying the extra mobility it suddenly has. “And if you can do what you did today in a more controlled manner, you’ll be unstoppable. A bit of combat training wouldn’t hurt either.”

You think it over in your head. What he’s saying makes a lot of sense. You still don’t know what happened to you today, and you’d love nothing more than to figure it out. Tony is the perfect person to help with that.

Being an avenger is a lot of pressure though. Only a week and a half to train and fight some “really bad, really powerful guy”? It’s impossible. You’d be way over your head. You would get yourself killed.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” Stark saying, practically reading your mind. “But I believe you can do it, and I’m never wrong. Scratch Saturday, you’re coming in tomorrow for immediate testing and training. Expect to be here all day.” He orders, returning back to his assertive persona.

All day tomorrow?

“I actually can’t tomorrow, Mr. Stark sir.” You say a little under your breath.

“You what now?” Tony stops in his tracks.

“I-I can’t come tomorrow. I’m going to a party, I sorta have a date.” You explain, getting quieter and quieter after hearing how pathetic you sound.

It’s his turn to laugh incredulously, “Yeah, sweet cheeks, and the world is sorta in immortal danger. I’ll let Happy know he needs to take you home and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You don’t bother trying to protest or be a smart ass because he makes a very valid point. “See you tomorrow.” you say, mostly to yourself.

- - - - -

Three knocks echo from your bedroom door as you sit at your desk doing some chemistry homework.

“Hey hun! I brought oranges slices.” Your Aunt Alice shuffles past the doorframe. As she comes closer, the brightest smile on her face, You notice she made a smiley face on the plate full of poorly cut oranges.

You let out a giggle and set down your pencil, “Thank you Ali, they look great!” You begin to eat the juicy treat while Alice takes in the atmosphere of your room.

“Those weird earthquakes were crazy today, huh?” She absentmindedly makes conversation.

“Earthquakes. Right. Yeah it was crazy. They really shook me at the core.” You say sarcastically, soaking in the irony.

Alice only hums in response. You watch her eyes dart from your trophies and then to the chair with clothes piled on it and then to the plants perched on your window until they finally land on the picture of her, your mom, and yourself.

It was your 11th birthday and you had cake smeared all across your face. The memory is so vivid, you can still hear the beautiful melody of your mother’s laugh dancing through the air. It’s the last picture you have of her.

“I miss her too.” You speak quietly, fearing if you spoke too loudly, the memory would go away.

Her gaze returns to you, tears brimming her eyes and her smile a little less bright. “You remind me of her so much, Y/n.” All you can offer her is a warm smile.

You’ve already cried all the tears you had left. You clear your throat, “Thanks again for the oranges, Ali.”

She wipes the tears that manage to break free before placing a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“Take out will be here soon.” She informs as she exits the room, her cheerful tone returning.

“Sounds good.” You respond.

You take one more glance at the picture of the three of you before getting back to work. However, like most things here lately, you didn’t get very far.

“Shoo, shoo! Stupid bird. I hate you!” You hear a muffled voice coming from outside. You wouldn’t have found this odd, if you weren’t on the fourth floor of an apartment complex.

You rush over to your window and peek outside, and much to your surprise you see just the person you needed to see. You snicker before unlocking your window and pushing it up.

“Peter, what are you doing up here?” You whisper.

“Oh, ya know, just...fighting some birds.” He chuckles weakly at being caught.

You smile wildly at the sound of his voice and the sight of him covered in feathers. You’re feeling too giddy to even question how he got up here. “Get in!” You move out of the way so he can crawl into your room.

Oh my god. Peter Parker is in my bedroom!

You hurry to shut the door, so Alice doesn’t see a boy in your room. You turn back around to see Peter stealthily make his way past your potted plants. He hops in with a soft grunt.

“Hi.” He says shyly once he finally looks at you.

“Hi.” You say back in the same tone.

Peter looks down at his hands, causing you to just notice he’s holding a plastic bag. “Um this is for you. You never answered my texts so I thought I should just...sneak by.”

You take the bag from him and sit on your bed, Peter copying your actions. Your breath hitches as your shoulders touch.

OH MY GOD!

You pull yourself together enough to take a look in the bag.

There are several things inside. Two chocolate bars, your favorite ice cream, a large bottle of water, a box of tissues, and a dvd of your favorite movie.

You look towards Peter with the softest smile to ever lie upon your lips.

“What’s all this for?” You nearly whisper, your heart aching at the gesture.

“Gwen mentioned that it was that time of the month for you, so I brought you some things. I asked her for your favorite snacks and stuff.” He explains as his face burns with a rosy tint.

You’re not on your period, so you just assume that Gwen covered for you earlier today. She could’ve come up with literally anything else because her lie is kind of embarrassing, but you’re not complaining at the moment.

After you don’t saying anything in response, Peter starts to ramble nervously. “I’ve seen this movie once, it’s pretty good! I don’t know if it’s Star Wars level good, but I’d recommend it to someone. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I brought you a copy. If it’s your favorite movie, you probably already have it so that’s kinda stupid of me I guess. Did you know that-“

You could listen to this boy talk for hours and hours, but for now, you interrupt him with a tight hug. It takes him a second to process, his mind and his heart going just as crazy as yours. He recoups soon, wrapping his arms tightly around your lower back.

“Thank you, Peter. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I just wanted to make your rough day a little better.”

And that, he did. More than he even knows. The two of you hug for a little while longer before pulling apart, your faces only inches away from each other.

You gulp as you look into his brown eyes. You’ve never seen them this close before. Chills are sent down Peter’s spine, but for a different reason this time. A better reason.

His eyes begin to flutter shut as he leans in and you mirror his movements.

It’s finally happening, and so fast too! Peter Parker is now literally in the palm of your hands. You try your best to maintain your excitement. Another uncontrollable episode is not what you need right now.

You can basically feel his lips on yours already. Your first kiss with Peter...

“Y/n! The food is here!”

...was too good to be true. Of course.

The sound of Alice’s voice makes you and Peter jolt to opposite ends of the bed. You run your hands over your face and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah Alice, I’ll be right there!”

The air becomes still as you and Peter look at everything in the room except for each other. He’s the first to speak up, “Well uh, I should let you go eat.” He rubs his hands on his legs.

“Yeah I probably shouldn’t keep my aunt waiting. She’s scary when she’s hangry.” You joke to lighten the mood.

You both share a small laugh before you walk Peter over to the window he’d just entered through.

“Thank you again for everything. You’re a really good friend.”

He doesn’t show it, but that word just stabbed him in the heart. Friend.

“Anything for you, Y/n/n. You should go, I don’t want you to see me climbing these walls.” Peter says truthfully, but plays it off as a joke.

You laugh along with him, “Call me if you hurt yourself. I have ways to fix ya up.” You say truthfully as well.

Neither of you catch on to the other’s honesty.

You give each other an endearing smile before parting way.

Once your back is turned, you whisper to yourself, “Friend? Why did I say that?”

Here’s one more thing to beat yourself up about all night long.

“Y/n, The food!” Alice yells, the hunger taking over.

“I’m coming!” You should in an equally frustrated tone, but because of a different type of hunger.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Sorry it took a while to post this chapter!! I tried making it longer than the others to make up for it :)

Omgg my Tom fic, The “Friendship” Test is currently sitting at 800+ notes, that’s insane!! Thank you guys so much, I know I say that a lot but I truly mean it!

((excuse any typos, i write at night))

tag list 🏷 (lmk if i missed you or if you want to be added!)

@jackiehollanderr @crazylittlereader2474

@phantomhrt @sassystay-bunny @sltwins

@bigassnocash @pignolithecookie

@big-galaxy-chaos @lilyblackx @jjjmaybank

@peterandtom @meilikki

@the-avengers-assembling @voldyphobia

@lumiees @frostay

@lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker

@mikaofasgard @empath-bunny

@neoneun-nananeun-neo @themoonlightofari

#peter parker x reader #avengers x reader #peter parker x avengers!reader #bucky barnes #peter parker x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader #tom holland x reader #peter parker #tom holland #sebastian stan #peter parker fic

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algumaideia · 3 years ago

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An analysis of Octavian

This post was actually going to be an explanation of why I think Octavian is an antagonist, but not a villain. But it ended up being an analysis of his character.

SPOILERS

And as always feel free to disagree with me, just be respectful.

Sorry, because it wasn’t well-written, I’m incapable of writing good texts.

Backstory

I think it is important to say that since we don’t have any information about his backstory most of the thing said in this part of the review are what I think is his backstory. It is a mix of the facts stated in the books, the way Octavian acts and my interpretations. Besides the things I’ll make clear that were said in the books, the rest is not canon. And you don’t need to agree with me that this was his backstory.

His family is one of the richest of New Rome- In the books he also seems to act without fearing the consequences while taking the privilege/money of his family as garented. Octavian acts like someone that is seeking attention. It is so weird how he just do whatever he wants without fearing consequences when his family is right there in New Rome. For that to happen I think or his family neglects him or they are those kind of people who think the children can do no wrong and are all my baby didn’t do that. But I think that if they were the latter, they would be more present in Octavian’s life, but they are never there.

He is an augere and feels very proud about it. I don’t think there is too much to add about it besides that I think he likes to be an augere because it makes him important and necessary.

No one likes him and this isn’t something new. In Son of Neptune, Hazel says half of the camp hates Octavian and most of his friends are bought. So, Octavian is a lonely child. And he is aware of this. He is a bad person, people dislike him for a reason. But it seems people have been disliking him for some years and he is a child. According to his wiki he was 10 years old when he came to Camp Jupiter for the first time, and he spent his tweens and teens years in a place where people did not like him. I don’t think this was a good place to grow up.

He is really smart and manipulative. I think that those traits are a little inconsistent. Because in the beginning of the SoN Percy says how Octavian is really good at manipulating people with words, but then in the ending of the book and in MoA everyone is shutting Octavian up. Isn’t he this kind of master of words, how he isn’t answering people back?

We also know he’s been at camp jupiter for quite sometime. I’ll talk about it in another part of the post.

He is anemic and mentally ill. I’ll talk about those things in the Camp Jupiter, Treatment and Ableism parts.

Other thing that I would like to say is that this post is not an attempt to ignore the bad things Octavian did and pretend he is not a bad person. It is just me trying to understand his better and show why in my opinion the fandom hasn’t treated him fairly.

Camp Jupiter

Camp Jupiter sucks and it does for a lot of reasons. Some of them being the fact they have a city full of adults and most of them were demigods trained in the camp, which means they have trained adults but instead tweens and teens are the ones who fights. Hazel said that if Percy dishonored the legion they both would be executed. Hazel also says that sometimes people die in the war games. There is also the fact that people are dying all the time in missions/wars. The Camp Jupiter also expects perfect behavior for its demigods, to them all know the rules and to do not commit mistakes and I don’t have adhd but this doesn’t seem to be a good place to people that has the disorder. There is too much preassure to do not do any wrong, apperently no emotional support and the punishments seems to be crazy. It’s not a healthy place to a chldren grow up.

Other point is how they value physical strenght, hand to hand combats and offensive approache more than a lot of things. Frank said how he wasn’t treated well because he was an archer, and this was seem as cowardice. Octavian is anemic, he doesn’t have physical strenght or energy to be able to fight. The only way to be respected in Jupiter's camp is to be a good fighter, and he cannot be that because of his illness. As I said Octavian is someone that is often seeking attention and validation by his peers, and I think that this is why being an augere is something so important to him. He cannot make himself important in the traditional way and by being an augere he is necessary to the camp. People cannot just dismiss him. He buys friends, he manipulates people, he becomes a centurion, he is always dominating the senate. He makes himself impossible to be neglected.

Yes, Octavian is power-hungry. Yes, he is bad. But a lot of things he did during Heroes of Olympus was just Roman things (he was also mentally ill and his mental health was getting worse in each book). When Hazel says that Octavian will kill Percy if the greeks atack New Rome, but in the next sentence she says that Romans take oaths very seriously. However it is all written like it is Octavian being a horrible person. But it is not. The Romans are very harsh with their punishments, they seem to be violent, physical. When Octavian says the Romans should fight the greeks, he is just acting like a Roman, like someone who was raised in a enviroment that encouraged violence responses.

Treatment

Octavian wasn’t treated nicely by the narrative and other characters. I mean, this guy was the centurion of the first cohort and an augere. But no one seem to respect him. No one enters the legion without him saying yes (I know it is acording to what he sees) but he is treated like he isn’t important. He is the one that is responsable of saying what the gods wants, but no one seems to have problems mocking him. I mean fi he decides to give you a wrong information about what a god want you are dead.

Hazel said how “obsessed” with the sibylline books Octavian and it was framed as him being irrational and dumb. But in the end he was right, if the legion listened to him Ella would have been save way sooner. But no, it is just Octavian being “obsessed”.

Percy acts like Octavian doesn’t have any prophecy powers, but he saw the lighting in the Jupiter Temple. Then when Octavian is mad because there are three preators he acts like he is overreacting, and Jason and Reyna do nothing. And this is weird because it was made very clear that rules are very important to Camp Jupiter.

When he decides to attack Camp Jupiter he is always villified and not seem as a mentally ill boy that has been getting worse doing the Roman thing.

He is always dismissed, mocked, villified, ignored.

And the fact Luke was treated with sympathy, but Octavian not. Luke, who tried to kill Percy, a childre, a lot of times. Luke, who used Annabeth feelings and emotional attachment to manipulate her. Luke, who was 19-22 years old and groomed Silena, who was 14-18 years old. Luke, who poisoned Talia’s tree. Luke, who had no regards for Grover, the satyr that saved him. Luke was treated with sympathy. But not Octavian. Not the mentally ill child who was losing the touch with reality during the series. Not the guy who was just doing what he was raised to do.

I mean, I don’t even like Octavian and I cannot stand it.

Gwen

Guys, Octavian did a lot of bad things but killing Gwen wasn’t one of those thing. It is so no sense for a lot of reasons.

As we talked before he is anemic and he is also smart. This intelligent man, that is full aware of his physical limits, thought it would be a good idea to get in the midle of a chaotic fight? I don’t think so.

Some pages before that Percy hit Octavian and he fell like a straw man (according to the text, the first time I read it I thought he fainted).

Octavian always makes things because of a purpose, he isn’t just being mean because. He does bad things because his actions will give him something. Killing Gwen wouldn’t help him with anything.

Frank for some reason decided to look to Octavian during that mess and that doesn’t make any sense. He is in the camp for a month at this time the guy should’ve already known that Octavian doesn’t battle, he only commands. He saw Percy fighting for a couple of seconds during the war game and was already able to say how he fought.

Octavian was without his knive, but just minutes before he fainted, he could have lost it when he fell.

Frank said that Octavian seemed interested and not worried. But this is not enough to blame the guy, this is not enough to assume anything execpt that maybe Octavian has low empath.

Greeks

Octavian was a roman. To the romans the greeks didn’t exist anymore, and they were the enemy.

So, a random greek shows up, spends some days at the camp, becomes preator, and two of your most important gods appear and give a lot of attention to this greek. This is really suspicious. This greek also says that the romans should work with the greeks so they can defeat Gaea. And why you should trust this dude? He doesn’t show respect for the Roman culture. Then this huge war ship appears and this suspect greek guy says that they all come peace and the romans should not attack. Obviously you don’t believe it, and what happens they attack! As the good roman you are, your answer is to attack the greeks back.

The romans answers things with violence. This is why Reyna asked if Annabeth was a roman after the judo flip. This is why Hazel said she and Percy would be executed if he did a mistake during his period of probatio. Octavian was being roman. He was trying to protect and revenge his Camp against a long time enemy.

Not saying everything he did about it was logical, but this is because of his upbringing and his mental health.

Goals

I think it is really interisting the fact that Octavian main goal was to be a hero, not more powerful. Apollo didin’t say Octavian would become preator, he said Octavian would save New Rome.

I mean, since Octavian wanted to be preator and then became the pontifex maximum, so the logical think it would be to him wants more power. But no he wants to be a hero. A hero is someone that is respected, admired, liked and even loved. All the thing Octavian isn't. Don't get me wrong, Octavian is a bad person, there is a reason people dislike him. But he is also a lonely child that is hated by most of the camp.

Ableism

Octavian is often described as crazy, mad, insane. In his first appearence Percy said Octavian had madness in the eyes, and this was the way of the narrative warning us he was one of the bad guys. He is obviusly mentally ill, his mental health is obviusly getting worse, but everyone ignores it. Everyone ignores it, execpt when they are describing how insane his laugh is, how crazy he looks, how intense his gaze is. Everyone ignores it, until they need to remind us he is one of the antagonists.

Ending

The ending was terrible.

Octavian was obiously having a psychotic break, he was stumbling, laughing “in an insane” way, and he didn’t realize his jewelry was in fire. And then what happens? Michael Kahale, the person he most trusted, his problaby only friends appeared, saw the situation and did nothing.

Octavian didn’t kill himself. He didn’t know his clothes were tied in the onager. It wasn’t a sacrifice. It was an aciddent.

Nico stopped Will Solace who was trying to warn it because some “deaths are inevitable”. Nico, also a mentally ill character saw Octavian in the vulnerable state he was and did nothing to help him. And when Nico was seeing Octavian lunch himself to the sky he thought that this was a relief. No one was sad, no one thought this was a tragedy, no one cared. Octavian was dead and that was a relief.

The guy was so desperate to be the hero and no one even cared about his death. It is horrible.

Another sorry for the weird tense of the text.

If you want to read this is my post about Octavian and Azula and how their mental illness were treated differently.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. We need to start talking how the way Bryce was written was ableist.

#pjo #hoo #rick riordan critical #rr crit #rick riordan ableism #octavian #pjo octavian #hoo octavian #octavian ableism #octavian analysis

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queerofthedagger · 4 years ago

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I would love to hear your essay on why Merlin didnt own telling Morgana about his magic, because it honestly makes me mad when people say he should have since he too had magic

Ooh hey, thanks so much for the ask! And about one of my favourite pet peeves too 😂❤️ I have a lot to say on that because yeah, it makes me mad too. This got really long, so I apologize for that in advance... (I tried to put some of it under a readmore but tumblr is being a pain again.)

Obligatory disclaimer that obviously, everyone’s entitled to their opinion and I’m not aiming to change anyone’s mind.

First of all, I think it gets ignored sometimes that Merlin didn’t actually leaver her alone or didn’t try to help. He very much did so in “The Nightmare Begins,” by finding out how to get her to the Druids. This is directly after she tells him about her belief that she has magic and that she’s scared, and he does so against the explicit orders/advice from both Gaius and Kilgharrah.

When he goes to find her because Uther is executing people and she refuses to go back, he doesn’t pressure her. People are getting killed about it, and yet when she says, “I'm sorry. I'm never going back. These are my people. They're like me. I don't feel so alone here. Do you understand?” his only answer is “Better than anyone.”

But yeah, it does tell him that when it comes down to a choice between self-preservation and saving others, Morgana will choose the former. And that’s fine, to some degree! People are allowed self-preservation and putting themselves first, and Merlin and Arthur often are self-sacrificing to a truly unhealthy degree. That being said, I personally find it questionable if accepting the death of innocent, also at least under-privileged if not oppressed people for your own sake is the morally “right” choice but as I don’t want to start a philosophical rant here, let’s leave it at that.

There’s—imo—more than one reason why Merlin didn’t owe her anything; first of all, I personally don’t think you ever owe anything of this kind to anyone, ever. Just because someone tells me a huge secret, doesn’t mean I have to do the same, especially if it’s a life-threatening one; all you “owe” is kindness, understanding, and keeping the secret that was entrusted to you. All of which Merlin did.

Then there’s the whole axis of power to their relationship; Morgana might be nice and treat Gwen and Merlin with respect, but that doesn’t erase the huge difference of station between them. Since the first week Merlin arrived in Camelot, he saw that the word of a servant, his word, meant absolutely nothing against a knight, noble, or actual royal.

Morgana didn’t hand him any power over herself when she revealed her secret. Merlin, on the other hand, would’ve handed her complete power over his life or death. I’m not saying Merlin would’ve ever revealed her secret under any circumstances—I actually think if he had told Arthur in season 3, Arthur would’ve believed him; he’s proven he would, more than once. But it wasn’t only about being believed, it was also, still, about not giving her away. (Though to be fair here—what it was also about was that she threatened to reveal that he poisoned her. Which, obviously, fair to some degree but if she did that, I doubt she would’ve revealed why he did, which ultimately only plays back into my point that Morgana’s loyalty is conditional. Which, again, is a valid stance to have, but not that of a person I’d trust with such a secret.)

Anyway. Just because Merlin never would’ve revealed her secret, doesn’t mean that the difference in their potential power over each other wasn’t there, and it’s important. Especially if you look back to the start of season 2 where—even before she turned her back on Camelot—Morgana made it clear that for her, self-preservation prevails when it comes right down to it.

Well, and thirdly, there’s also the matter of destiny and responsibility if Merlin’s own safety and well-being isn’t already enough (which it is, just in case there was any doubt about my opinion on that matter.) Of course, in season 2, Merlin’s not yet as fixated on Arthur as he is later, not even on destiny, as his intention to leave Camelot shows (if he had stayed away is another question altogether but I digress.) Still, Kilgharrah made it pretty clear that this was about more than Merlin, and while Merlin definitely didn’t always listen to him, the threat was immense.

And it wasn’t only about Arthur either, I’d even say that in the great scheme of things, Arthur played relatively little into this decision; it was about his people as a whole, and it was about Gaius because if Merlin had been revealed, Gaius had already proven that he’d try taking the fall if not get accused of harbouring a sorcerer. I don’t think this alone would’ve been enough, but taken together with the other points, I think it did have some weight in Merlin’s decision and I also think that it was a valid choice to make even beyond the “you don’t have to reveal anything to anyone even if it’s only because you don’t want to.”

Last but not least, I also think it’s important to keep in mind how long they’ve known each other which, at that point, were maybe two years. Merlin’s been most likely told from the day he could understand it to never reveal himself to anyone. Until Freya, Merlin never tells anyone on his own volition (except maybe Will, we don’t know, but they’ve known each other their whole lives), and it’s impossible to compare the circumstances. Just because Morgana told him in what she herself calls a moment of weakness does not mean Merlin has any obligation to do the same.

I want to reiterate that he did try to help her, actively with the Druids, and also passively by reassuring her that there’s nothing wrong with her and that he will keep her secret. This is already more than he would have to do—the whole thing with the Druids put Merlin at risk too, arguably much more than her. Of course, that has never stopped him which is what we love about him, but I think that it’s more than enough. Merlin is not responsible for fixing every little thing in Camelot, he’s not responsible for other people’s actions and decisions, and he did more than could be expected of him.

Which is also why I think that if he had told her about his magic, it wouldn’t have changed anything in the long run, but as this is already way too long, let’s leave that can of worms for another time...

#merlin emrys #morgana pendragon #merlin meta #mona's rambling #this is more an out-of-canon point but I also just prefer Morgana having the agency to owning her actions tbh #answered asks #aeonthedimensionalgirl

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theonceandfutureking6481 · 3 years ago

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BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 6: A Remedy to Cure All Ills Analysis

Spoilers for the show

This episode is interestingly about Gaius, it is his arc we see here, not Merlin's or Arthur's and so this is a very interesting episode to watch because it is a vision of the world of Uther, and a vision of Gaius' own flaws. It is a world Merlin and Arthur will one day change and redeem, but as of yet this is a story more about the past then the present.

Gaius

This is something I believe I will come back to later, I'm pretty sure there's another episode later on that also addresses this idea and that is Gaius' deeply flawed nature. We as an audience love Gaius, he's a good character and Merlin loves him like a father, so we can't really help but love him too. But Gaius is flawed in perhaps one of the most dangerous ways, he is not cruel or even a bad person in any real way, but he is a coward. He is the person who in the face of injustice stands by and does nothing. His flaw is in some ways the most understandable, at least for me, its hard to be brave and to oppose power is not easy. Gaius has been a coward and has been complicit in the pain and deaths of so many in his silence, although arguably there wasn't really anything he could of done to stop it. This is revealed most of all in an exchange he has with Kilgharrah (though the 'blind eye' is also mentioned with Edwin).

Gaius: I will not choose between them (Uther and Merlin)

Kilgharrah: Then turn a blind eye. That is, after all, your talent

This is one of the first times we've seen Kilgharrah openly express emotion aside from telling Merlin about his destiny, its perhaps the first hint that he is more personally invested than he lets on. And its in an interactions with Gaius, and you can hear the disdain in his voice. This dragon has been a mouthpiece for destiny, for everything that's going to happen, he's a mouthpiece for the future and in this you realise that he and Gaius have a past, that there is more darkness in the past then we've previously understood. In this you realise that Gaius has failed to be the person he should've been, he's been a coward, and he has betrayed an entire people in his silence.

Gaius elects to turn a blind eye again by leaving, in some ways he's choosing Merlin but in leaving he's making it so he's not really making that choice, he's leaving whatever will happen in other hands. And Gwen says one of the most powerful lines in the show when he tells her that he has no choice.

"In life we always have a choice sometimes its easier to think that you don't."

Cause we do, Gwen's right. It's dangerous and easy to think that you don't have any choice but one, and everyone in this show makes that mistake at some point. Uther probably thinks that he has no choice but to persecute magic users because they're are evil. Everyone seeking revenge on Uther thinks they have no choice but to do so, and in doing no choice but to let collateral damage happen. Because if you accept that there is a choice then you accept responsibility for your actions, you accept that you are responsible for any damage you cause. You may still make the choice, but you are accepting that it is a choice you choose and the results are one's you have chosen to be acceptable. But I also love Gwen's response when Gaius tells her that he is choosing to leave, its a non-choice and also in Gwen's view its the wrong choice, but she doesn't judge him at all for it. She just says "then I'll miss you." She doesn't expect him to be brave, and she continues to care about him even as he doesn't do the right thing.

There is another note here that will be of more relevance later on. Gaius is and has been a coward, but Merlin is his redemption. Merlin is the redemption for everything Gaius has done (or hasn't done) that has helped facilitate Uther's regime. Obviously in sheltering Merlin, Gaius is already rebelling in a more meaningful way then he has in years but later in the show he will make choices to support Merlin and his destiny that will redeem him, and like so much of the show it is for the love of Merlin that he makes them, emphasising the importance of love once again.

Edwin

In many ways this is an uncomfortable episode for someone who is both not a kid and has already watched the whole show. Out of every villain in the show, Edwin is in some ways set up as the least villainous. He takes no collateral damage, he risks Morgana's life yes but ultimately he gets Gaius fired and tries to kill Uther. He doesn't even try to kill Gaius until the end, his revenge is so proportional, so seemingly justified, he hates Gaius but he doesn't try to kill him. Ultimately the show (in this episode at least) doesn't really address that complexity, they have some last minute making Edwin more evil ( he tells Merlin that they could be all-powerful together, the trying to kill Gaius and Merlin (though that was an under danger from them situation), and his parents having practiced dark magic). This ultimately succeeds, and we can go away happy in the knowledge that good triumphed over evil. This works this early in the show, this early on and we are not really sure how to feel about magic, how to feel about the great purge, how to feel about Uther, so we can accept the shows presentations of Merlin protecting Uther with little questions.

Ultimately I'm not opposed to Merlin protecting Uther, but that's largely due to how the show questions it later, because the show does address it. It does address whether or not Uther should be protected when honestly most of those seeking revenge are at least justified in the killing Uther part of their revenge.

But this has not been addressed yet, so we're left with a villain who ultimately did not seem that evil being killed and then Uther being saved.

This is also paired with this episode being perhaps the first one to truly address the horror of the great purge. Edwin's backstory is chilling, the scars on his face are there because he tried to run into the fire to save his parents when they were being burnt at the stake by Uther. There's also this sense of a barely spoken history between all the older characters, Geoffrey and Gaius don't want to remember that time, Kilgharrah reminds Gaius of how he turns a blind eye, and even in Uther and Gaius right at the end.

Uther: Do you remember them, his parents?

Gaius: I remember them all, sire

This happens, even after everything that has happened in the episode, so the episode itself doesn't even entirely erase the confusion regarding Edwin, and we don't really know who was really right. It's also an interesting moment for Uther, a moment where we see his resolve about magic slightly shift, and there is a hint of unacknowledged guilt there.

The fact that immediately after this Uther apologises to Gaius really cements this, Uther rarely admits he's wrong and he only does so when his own sense of his rightness has been questioned. He doesn't admit he was wrong with magic (and he never will), but that feeling perhaps prompts him to be able to admit he was wrong to Gaius.

Why Gaius serves Uther

Now this is a question that's hard to answer, because ultimately Gaius does serve Uther loyally for much of the show, rarely opposing him and it goes somewhat beyond just not being able to do anything else because Uther's the king, and Gaius both can't do anything but also just isn't a very brave person (though that is certainly part of it). We do find out later that Gaius ultimately doesn't think Uther's a bad king, he believes that Uther on the whole is fair to most of his people (except magic users), he's not great but he's better than a lot would be. And you see the hint of that in:

Gaius: You have always done what you believed to be right

Gaius perhaps sees in Uther a king who isn't purely driven by selfishness, a king who does genuinely seek to act in the interests of the people, and I guess that's probably better than most kings.

I also think there's a warning in that, a warning about doing purely what you believe to be right. And by that I mean acting purely in accordance with your own feelings without reference to the possibility of being wrong. Doing what you feel to be right is not always the right choice, and its something Merlin does often consider, not only because consequences are often far beyond what one person can consider, but because you may be wrong. Every person is blinded by their own experiences, Uther's blinded by his anger and hate and he mistakes that for righteousness.

Also, ultimately I might note, Gaius is physician. Most of the time serving Uther does not ask too much of him, he saves lives, he helps people, he doesn't usually have to participate in the bad. However, that doesn't take away from the fact that he still does occasionally, and he is reasonably loyal.

I enjoyed this episode, but its never been one of my favourites and it's hard to go away from this one entirely satisfied that all right ends have been achieved. The show chooses not to fully address the moral complexity at the heart of it yet, and that's fine this is after all a children's show and we are still so early in it but that does mean that in setting up complexity and not going through with it there is a level of dissatisfaction, as we struggle really to know if right really won here.

#gaius the court physician #bbc merlin #merlin analysis #the adventures of merlin #uther pendragon #kilgharrah #merlin bbc #merlin #merlin emrys #analysis #a remedy to cure all ills #edwin Muirden #Basically I'm confused #Gaius #Arthur pendragon

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

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handmaid - 10

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, mentions of violence, gun mentioning

A/N: i love to write this particular dynamic because i get to put some anna karenina vibes into this. hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N had one favourite movie in the whole entire world.

You know the movies that make a cloudy, upset day immediately turn sunny and warm? Those movies which are the equivalent of a warm cup of cocoa accompanied by your favourite dessert? That movie for Y/N had always been The Princess Diaries and in her teenage innocent she had memorised that immortal quote “You know, in the old movies, whenever a girl would get seriously kissed, her foot would just kind of… pop.”. Much to her disappointment, during her first kiss at a particularly bad game of spin the bottle with a guy named Joshua Davies, her foot had not moved, her body had even been particularly stiff to that emotion that she had been looking for since she was younger. With Sebastian however, it felt like a million fireworks had set off the moment her lips touched his and just like Mia had promised, there it was ... the little pop of the foot. At that point, it didn’t cross her mind that he was engaged, that she was working and had known his bride to be for ages. At that point, Y/N was Y/N and he was the guy who had gotten her the most precious thing in her life.

It was a gentle kiss full of need as if both of them had been holding out kissing each other ever since they turned of age. It was Y/N, however, who broke the kiss for the much needed oxygen. The innocence in the eyes, the flush that had spread itself and her partially parted lips looked exactly like something Sebastian had dreamed about. He put his hands on her waist, taking a step forward until her back was against the wall. This action caused her to let go a little squeak, the nerves finally starting to settle down. Before she could withdraw from the confines of her mind and maybe escape, he was already kissing her again with much more need than before. Y/N felt helpless in that situation as she came to hold his hands, Sebastian however had another plan, grabbing her hands and holding them above her head.

This time he was the one who broke up the kiss to stare at her, to make sure this wasn’t some fantasy, some hallucination caused by lack of sleep mixed with the alcohol from every meeting. It was no fantasy, she was standing right there between him and a wall, breathe unruly and faint.

- This is wrong. - she looked to her feet, hands coming to tangle themselves in her hair.

- Makes no difference. - his point finger lifted her chin so she could stare at him with those wondrous eyes.

- You’re engaged.

- Makes no difference.

- I have to go. - she needed to go but her body was betraying her, continuing between him and a wall. - Can I go?

- Do you wanna go? - her eyes briefly looked into his. They looked calm, almost realised with that beautiful light blue reflecting every single beam of light in that bedroom.

There is a moment in your life where right and wrong merge into a grey area. Things aren’t right and they’re not completely wrong either, they just stand hand in hand, dancing in some sort of never-ending waltz. Y/N had read about those areas several times, seen those circumstances have a strong hold on the type of environment she had been born in, however, she always thought she would guide herself by the moral right and not find herself in the grey area. Nevertheless, here she was, in the grey area. Gwen definitely had her fair share of affairs. God, she was possibly having one right now, yet that didn’t mean Y/N should be allowed to just go on and have an affair with her friend’s fiancé.

Before her heart would win over her head, she managed to escape from between Sebastian and the suite’s wall, walking rather fast towards the door. Her mind was speeding too fast going through all the possibilities and all the things Gwen would do to her if she figured out she was making out with her husband. Not that she would care but ever since they were children what was Gwen’s was Gwen’s and that was final.

Entering her bedroom, Y/N sank into her duvet, turning around so she was facing the ceiling. Giddily, she sat up, hands on her face as her lips stretched into a child like smile. Her mind was screaming at her for this wrong doing but her heart was just soaring. Kissing him felt like never before, like some tension which had finally broke and spread out. She felt giddy and weak at the knees in a form that she’d never experienced, even with the little childhood crushes and first kiss.

Through her giddiness, she didn’t even hear her phone ring until it rang once more. With a swift movement, she picked it up, answering the phone to a very familiar voice.

- Dan. - her face lit up. - How are you?

- Good, I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour. Is everything alright?

- Yeah. - she sighed, cuddling against her very soft duvet. - Me and Gwen are in Paris, but I’m sure she’s spoken with you already.

- Yeah, I heard. Just checking on you, haven’t heard much since you moved in with the Stan family.

- It’s not much of a family, more of an individual, but it’s been a very nice time. He’s been polite to me and Gwen, if that’s what you’re worried about. - she bite on her lip, knowing what Daniel thought of Sebastian. - You should come to visit. Bring Sophie with you, I’m sure she’d love to come to the Upper East.

- I don’t think Sebastian or Gwen would enjoy having her older brother around.

- That’s crazy, you’re family, besides, I’d love to see Sophie.

- Okay, Y/N. I’ll speak with Gwen and when you’re back from France maybe we can schedule something.

- You better not be lying, Daniel.

- Never. Goodnight, Y/N.

- Night, Dan.

She turned the phone off, sliding down to lay into her bed. Soon enough, sleep came to her and with it and with that the regrets were set free. She was peacefully sleeping when a loud banging noise woke her up. By instinct she got up, shielding herself with her sheets. Her mind was screaming at her not to investigate and was she was about to return to sleep, another loud noise came through. Her more awake self could distinguish this as a gunshot which made her jump out of bed, looking for a place to hide which ended up being under the bed, hands on top of her head.

- Y/N! - her door was broke down open, the voice coming from Sebastian. She peaked from under the bed to ensure it was him and as her eyes confirmed it was him, she shifted from under the bed. Sebastian quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her down the hall. Her eyes went down to the shining revolver in his hand and she wondered if it had been that causing the gunshots. At that stop, she pressed the heels of her feet against the floor, slowing them down. - Do you wanna get hurt? Is that it?

- Did you shoot someone? - she could hear various steps from the floor above, making her shiver at the realisation that maybe she wasn’t as safe as she thought she was.

- No but someone will shot you and me if you don’t keep running. - Sebastian kept trying to push her but she stood immobile there.

- What about Gwen? I need to go to Gwen.

- Oh, for fucks sake ... - he shoved his gun between his trousers and grabbed Y/N by her waist, taking her by surprise, before throwing him on his shoulder. Before she could start to protest her mishandling, he got back to rushing out of the building and onto the hotel’s fire escape, locking the door behind him. She could barely see what was happening due to her position and as she recovered from the impact, he had already thrown her in the backseat of a car, locking the door and entering the front.

- Where is Gwen?! - she pushed herself from the very nice leathered seats, throwing her seat belt on as he started to speed. - I heard gunshots, where is Gwen?

- Gwen is with Elias and the other bodyguards. Bottom feeders are trying their hand at a fucking overtake. - he was driving pretty fast, fast enough to make her slide in the backseat even with the seatbelt on.

- Where are we going?

- As far away from the hotel as possible. Don’t worry, I’ll call Elias once we stop driving so you can talk to Gwen.

- Is she okay? Mr. Forrest will have my head if I ...

- They would’ve had your head if you would’ve stayed there. I told you many times that whomever shots at Gwen will normally shot at you too.

She kept to herself, hand over her necklace. They drove from what seemed like half hour or so until Sebastian parked by what looked like a park and took his phone off his pocket. Y/N remained on the inside of the car, the gunshot still widely present on his mind, along with all of today’s events. It was too much.

She opened the door of the car and leaned against it, eyes fixated on the horizon as her mind ran at the highest setting it could. Before Sebastian could hand her the phone for her to speak with Gwen, she started to cry, face buried immediately on her hands.

- I’ll talk to you later. - Sebastian tossed his phone on the car, gently wrapping his arms around her. - It’s okay, you’re safe, Gwen’s safe.

- No, it’s too much. - she pushed away, cleaning what tears hadn’t fallen in her hands. - It’s too much. You’re Gwen’s husband, you should’ve gone to Gwen not to me. She could’ve gotten hurt.

- Are you listening to yourself? Can you even say a single sentence where you’re not speaking about Gwen? Have you even been selfish in your life?

- I owe her my life.

- You don’t owe anyone shit. So what if the Forrests decided to raise you that was their choice not yours. You don’t have to give them your life just because they raised you.

- But they ...

- You are no one’s property just because they did the decent thing and you are definitely not responsible for Gwen’s safety much less her actions or her well being. Maybe you grew up being taught that but not anymore. What happens to Gwen is my responsibility and if she’s injured, I will answer to Mr. Forrest, not you.

- You don’t understand. - she was frustrated with him. Why? She wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe he was right and her brain did not want to wrap itself around the truth because at the end of the day if she’s not taking care of Gwen ... who is she even? - They sent me to the best schools, paid my university tuition, my driver’s license, my phone. Everything.

- Even if they bought you a city, you don’t owe anyone your life. Were you really ready to have stood there in the crossfire just because of Gwen?

- She wouldn’t let me die. - she huffed like an upset child, arms crossed over her chest. He had to give it to her, she was fiercely loyal but also very very innocent when it came to people’s intentions.

- She would’ve used you as a human shield, Y/N. Did she ever ask you what you wanted to do ever since you arrived?

- No.

- I will never, ever let anyone harm you. Even if it means I’ll have to go against my wife.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #reader insert #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan au #mob!sebastian stan x reader #mob boss!sebastian stan #mob boss au

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emachinescat · 4 years ago

Text

The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days. I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

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riversofmars · 3 years ago

Text

Hope you enjoy the next lot of twists and turns coming up! :D

Charter 11: Past Prologue

Edinburgh, 2021

“I’m not sure we’re gonna find anything here…“ Ryan scanned the dressing room. It was a very neutral area. Barton was not the sort of person to make himself comfortable anywhere, particularly if it was just for the duration of a speech. “Not like he was here any length of time…“ Ryan’s eyes fell on the only item that wasn’t part of the furnishings. “Unless…“

“Forgot his jacket.“ Graham grinned and picked up the coat that had been flung over the side of an armchair. She reached into the pockets and quickly found what he was looking for: “Wallet.“ He announced, pleased with himself and opened it.

“Anything interesting?“ Ryan asked, looking over his grandfather’s shoulder, just as a business card fell out.

“Card…“ Graham picked it up and read: “Anastasis Project. Rings any bells?“ He turned it in his hand while Ryan gave a shrug. There was nothing else on the card apart from the name.

“Let’s meet up with the others.“ Ryan said, and they took the wallet and the coat with them.

“You didn’t follow him?“ Graham asked surprised when they found the rest of the team waiting outside.

“We’ve attached a transponder to his car but he didn’t exactly sound like he was going to see his contacts, quite the contrary, he’s going to be staying away and laying low.“ Jack explained.

“He’s certainly provided some kind of financial support, even if he’s not directly involved.“ Kate’s voice sounded in their ear-pieces.

“Let’s see where the money goes.“ Martha said and Ryan asked:

“Is there anything referring to an Anastasis Project in his portfolio?“ There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Meanwhile, they passed around the wallet and the business card.

“Not as such… but it seems like one of his research funds is supporting such a project.“ One of the Osgoods spoke at last. “Freelance. No direct ties.“

“Of course, so he can’t be made responsible for it.“ Gwen huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Do we have the address to an office or anything like that?“ Jack asked.

“There is a registered address, yes, probably fake though…“ Kate supplied, sounding doubtful.

“Still worth checking out.“ Ryan shrugged. It was better than returning to base with nothing. Whether they would have admitted it or not, being back in action made them realise how much they had missed it. Maybe they just weren’t made for the quiet life.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd century

“You lied to me.“ The Doctor growled at the Master. She took a couple of steps back, bringing some distance between herself and the two men. Her mind was reeling. She should have known better, she had been through it so many times. A little part of her had believed the Master would at least value the idea of a family enough to forgo a blatant lie. She had seen it when Missy had given her condolences upon learning of River’s death. The Master had always respected her relationship with River. It should have extended to their child. Or so she had hoped. Hope was so hard to resist. But in the end, the Master never failed to disappoint her.

“I did no such thing, I had no idea.“ The Master retorted and his voice was surprisingly calm and measured. He watched his doppelgänger, seemingly trying to figure out what was going on. They were identical, that was for sure but there was something unfamiliar about him too. His delight at the novelty of it had passed, now he required answers.

“Oh I see what’s happening, you're getting the wrong end of the stick here.“ The other Master grinned, clapping his hands joyfully. “See, I didn’t expect you to bring him.“ He carried on, gesturing to the Master. “I didn’t expect you, either, Doctor. Not this version of you. Last I saw you, you were so much younger… What happened to your little human friends? I really hope they died. Painfully. Not that he’s any better, mind, but I really hated those two… that mouthy med-tech and the do-gooder linguist… I should really have killed them when I had the chance…“ He carried on, and the Doctor couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. That part of her life had been lifetimes ago. Five lifetimes to be exact.

“What are you talking about?“ She asked, bewildered. She had met the Master so many times since then, when he had been posed as Harold Saxon, when he had been Missy…

“Oh, Doctor, do I have to spell it out for you? Is old age finally getting to you?“ He chuckled patronisingly, and the Doctor looked at the Master she had arrived with, wondering if he might have answers. He looked just as confused as she felt. “You don’t really think I’m the Master, do you? The Master!“ The other man cackled like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

“Then who are you?“ The Doctor pressed through gritted teeth. She hated feeling stupid.

“Your greatest enemy, of course.“ He took a dramatic bow which only served to infuriate the Master next to her more. His eyes flashed dangerously as recognition appeared to dawn on him.

“How did this happen?“ The Master took a threatening step towards the other man.

“What are you talking about?“ The Doctor frowned. Perhaps she had been wrong. There was something familiar about the other Master but the more she heard him speak, the less she believed her initial assessment. Something was very wrong here.

“I should have made sure you were dead last time around.“ The Master spat, baring his teeth at the other man whilst clearly contemplating how he would accomplish the feat again.

“Ah recognition at last. If that imbecile can figure it out, surely you can, Doctor. Has it really been so long for you that you don’t remember me anymore?“ The other Master smirked at the Doctor. “The fun we’ve had.“ He giggled, his voice changing slightly. “Gallifrey? The Crucible of Souls? Artron’s Tomb? You were there for that one, too.“ He winked at the Master.

“Spit it out already!“ The Doctor snapped as a terrible thought crossed her mind. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Oh dear, you don’t have the same presence I used to have.“ The man’s voice changed and suddenly sounded an awful lot more familiar to the Doctor. “I’m frightfully hurt, old chum.“ His voice changed again, laughing and then he barked: “Can we just kill her already.“

“No.“ Colour drained from the Doctor’s face. They should be dead. She was sure of it.

“So what are you doing impersonating me?“ The Master cut in, having had enough of the exchange.

“Impersonating you? I think you’ll find I’ve had this face much longer than you! I wear it better too.“ The other man grinned. “Also, I don’t do impersonations anymore, not since… well, the Nine?“ He looked at the Doctor ravelling in the look of shock on her face. “Remember that, Doctor? I impersonated you and then you impersonated me, and that was just embarrassing.“ He laughed as the Doctor just shook her head incredulously.

“You’re lying. The Twelve died on Gallifrey.“ She was sure of it. The Twelve had died in an explosion, their body had never been recovered.

“Yes. I was there. I am the Thirteen.“ The Thirteen smirked, satisfied that finally, the penny seemed to have dropped.

“You can’t be, you are a future version of him.“ She pointed to the Master. Her experiences with the Eleven and the Twelve had been lifetimes ago. Thousands of years of her own life, before the Time War, there was no way he was here now. “I don’t know why I trusted you.“ She snapped at the Master next to her.

“Now that’s something you should never do.“ The Thirteen agreed, enjoying watching them bicker. They would be far easier to deal with if they weren’t working together.

“Just you wait till I get my hands on you.“ The Master snarled at the Thirteen. “Believe what you will, Doctor, but do you not think you might be getting a little distracted from why we’re really here?“ His dark eyes darted around the room. They weren’t alone anymore. Soldiers were lining at the edges of the room, slowly advancing towards them. It was a trap. “Even if that is a future version of me, which I can assure you, it’s not…“

“The very thought…“ The Thirteen chuckled.

“Do you not have something to ask of the nice man here?“ The Master urged and the Doctor overcame her disbelief at the situation she found herself in. The Master had a point. They were here for a very good reason. Regardless of whether this man was the Thirteen, the Master or Rassilon himself, her question remained the same.

“Where is my son?“ The Doctor fixed her eyes on the Thirteen, her voice turning low and threatening. Enough of the games.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?“ The Thirteen feigned shock and grasped his chest. “Did you lose someone precious to you?“

“Whoever you are, you know something.“ The Doctor took a threatening step towards him.

“Well, he’s not here if that’s what you’re asking.“ The Thirteen gave a dismissive wave. “In fact, Doctor, I hadn’t really planned for this detour.“ He gestured around the room. “But it does get one thing out of the way…“

“What’s that?“ The Doctor shot back.

“You.“ the Thirteen grinned, and as if on cue the soldiers pointed their guns at her and the Master.

“Thanks for bringing her here, really, couldn’t have calculated it better myself.“ The Thirteen gave the Master a grin. “And just to be perfectly clear, Doctor, that we’re not the same person? I’ll have him killed, too.“ He glanced back to the Doctor who was looking around. The TARDIS was not far behind them. Was there time to turn and run? But if they ran, they wouldn’t find out what he knew.

“I will tear you limb from limb this time around.“ The Master’s eyes flashed dangerously as he recalled killing the Eleven. It was a bit of a blur, too many of his past selves had been present, but he recalled the deed well enough to be sure it happened. This time, he would make sure he couldn’t regenerate.

“What was it you said last time we met about compassion?“ The Thirteen looked to the Master. “I distinctly remember your lady version saying you weren’t without it… Well, I am. Which is why I will win and you will lose.“ He smirked.

“Still think that’s me?“ The Master looked to the Doctor who was at a loss for words.

“I…“

“Any clever ideas, Doctor?“ The Master stepped closer to the Doctor as the guards advanced further.

“The Doctor and the Master, sitting in a trap, K I L L I N G.“ The Thirteen sang. “No, doesn’t really work.“ He huffed. “Open fire on my mark.“ He called his men.

“OI!“ A female voice called out and suddenly an explosion rocked them, and the hangar filled with smoke.

——

Demon’s Run, Holding Cells, 52nd Century

“Here we go…“ River mumbled, connecting one last cable, as the force field turned off. “You'll be a good boy now, okay?“ She mumbled and pressed a kiss to her son’s head. This wasn’t exactly the right environment for a newborn but she didn’t have a choice.

There was an explosion somewhere, and alarms started wailing.

“Sounds like it’s the right time to get out of here.“ River soothed her son as he started crying because of the noise. She held him close as she walked down the corridor. She had to find a way off this space station. Her best bet would be the hangar bay.

“Professor Song!“ A voice called behind her suddenly and River whipped around as it was familiar and welcome.

“Madame Vastra!“ River exclaimed as she spotted the lizard woman who was just climbing out of a maintenance hatch.

“You’re… alive…“ Vastra marvelled at seeing her like this. Not just a consciousness trapped on a data stick but alive and whole and with her son in her arms. The relief and joy Vastra felt in that moment overshadowed all past anguish up until this point.

“Courtesy of my captors.“ River answered with a smirk as she stepped closer while Vastra helped another woman out of the tight hatch who River hadn’t met before. She could only presume she was a friend at the obvious relief on her face, too.

“Are you okay? Both of you?“ The girl asked, straightening herself up next to Vastra, and River nodded. Perhaps getting off this rock wouldn’t be so difficult after all, now that the cavalry had arrived.

“Professor, I’m so sorry, we tried…“ Vastra felt the overwhelming urge to make her apologies. She reached out and touched the little boy’s head, hoping to convey her deep regret for having failed to protect him.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, shall we chat later? And get out of here first?“ River gave her an encouraging smile. She didn’t blame her, how could she? Without knowing any details of what had happened, she knew that Vastra, Jenny and Strax would have done their utmost to keep her child safe. If they had failed to do so it could only have been through overwhelming odds. And now they had come to their rescue. They were the most loyal of friends. “I imagine we will have company soon. I may have tripped some alarms when I broke out of my cell.“ River pointed out the flashing lights and sirens while she tried to calm her son down.

“This way. We have a ship.“ Vastra nodded in agreement, and they rushed down the corridor. They had no time to lose.

“Now, now, Melody, can’t leave you alone for two minutes.“ They came to an abrupt halt as Madame Kovarian, backed by numerous soldiers, appeared at the top of the corridor they were heading towards.

“Yaz, take the long way around, take her to our ship!“ Vastra pulled her sword from its sheath and grabbed a blaster with the other. “Now!“

“But what about…“ Yaz started protesting.

“I will buy you some time, go!“ Vastra insisted, staring down the guards that were advancing towards them.

“Vastra!“ River grabbed her friend’s arm. They had to get out of here, they had to run, but they should be doing it together. She could risk her son getting injured. As much as River wanted to fight and finally, finally put an end to Madame Kovarian, her mother's instincts gripped her more tightly. She had to keep her son safe.

“It’s okay, you two go and don’t look back! I will find Jenny and Strax, we will make our own way. NOW GO!“ Vastra insisted with steely determination.

“I will find a way to come back for you!“ River promised hastily.

“GO!“ Vastra snapped and Yaz grabbed River’s arm. There was no arguing with Vastra.

“Thank you.“ River breathed and allowed herself to be pulled along.

——

London, 2021

“Dead end.“ Jack huffed, looking around. They found themselves in front of an empty plot with nothing but a post box in a dodgy area of town. They hadn’t all been able to go. Edinburgh to London was quite the track so they had decided to split up. Mickey, Martha and Gwen had returned to the Torchwood hub while Jack had taken Ryan and Graham for a ride with his vortex manipulator. Three was the limit, despite various modifications. “Thought it might happen. Nothing but a company shell…“ Jack carried on as they walked onto the abandoned plot. There was a bit of rubble and grass but nothing much. It was wedged between two warehouses.

“But then why have the card?“ Ryan mused, turning it in his hand.

“Why indeed.“ A voice sounded and suddenly the three men found themselves surrounded by four thugs that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“What the…“ Jack reached for his gun but before he could do so, they each had one pointed at their heads.

“See, we might not be able to make you disappear easily but that doesn’t mean we make you disappear another way. You can be useful after all. We need some new subjects.“ One of the men grinned, and the Torchwood agents realised they had fallen into a trap.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd Century

It was utter chaos but the Doctor quickly figured out what was happening when he heard a familiar voice yelling:

“DIE ALIEN SCUM!“

“Strax?!“ The Doctor yelled through the smoke, ducking a laser blast, one of the few things visible in the smoke.

“Not to worry, Doctor, we’re here!“ Jenny called back and they found each other quickly, following the other’s voice.

“How did you get here?“ The Doctor asked surprised and delighted at once.

“Could ask you the same thing!“ Jenny retorted looking around not to get caught out. For the time being, Strax appeared to be doing an excellent job of dealing with the soldiers.

“We thought this might be where they’ve taken my son.“ The Doctor answered quickly.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely where they took your wife.“ Jenny replied quickly and pulled the Doctor behind a crate. She fired at two soldiers that emerged from the smoke dangerously close to them.

“My wife? River is here?!“ The Doctor exclaimed in disbelief. She was in shock, her words barely registered. How could River possibly be here?

“Her consciousness anyway. Some Timelord who calls himself the Thirteen stole it from the Library. We followed him here.“ Jenny carried on to explain.

“So it is him…“ The Doctor mumbled, trying to get things straight in her head.

“Told you, didn’t I, he’s not me!“ The Master found them behind the crate and took cover as well.

“Then why have you got the same face?“ The Doctor shot back angrily.

“I don’t know, Doctor, do I, do you think I’m thrilled he’s running around giving me a bad name?“ The Master bit back just as angrily.

“You do that all by yourself, usually.“ She snapped back.

“And you are…“ Jenny was at a loss for a moment.

“The Master.“ The Doctor answered before he could.

“Right… well, this Thirteen fellow…“ Jenny decided not to comment for the time being. There had to be a good reason for why the Master was here, seemingly with the Doctor.

“Looks exactly like him, you can’t miss him. And we have to find him, I want some answers! And River…“ The Doctor looked out from behind the crate, most of the hangar was still shrouded in smoke.

“We will find her. Vastra and Yaz are looking for her as well. We will get both of them back.“ Jenny explained hastily.

“Touching reunion and all but perhaps we might deal with the more pressing issue at hand? The bomb will go off at any moment.“ The Master announced and instructed: “Everybody get down.“

“What?“ The Doctor looked back at him incredulous. She straightened up a little to glance over the top of the crate but the Master pulled her down.

“Duck!“ He snapped, just as an explosion shook the hangar deck. He had clearly been busy in the moments before rejoining them.

“What the…“ The Doctor shoved him off and stood quickly, assessing the damage. “Why did you do that?“ She shook her head in disbelief at the destruction in front of her. Half the hangar had blown up, emergency force fields had jumped into place where the hull had ripped away.

“How about a ‘thank you Master’?“ The Master scrambled to his feet and brushed off his suit. “I just laid waste to your enemies. It was fun too.“ He grinned.

“Excellent maneuverer, Sir.“ Strax came up behind them, and Jenny let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him. He could very well have been caught up in the Master’s explosion.

“I’m glad someone appreciates it.“ The Master huffed.

“It wasn’t necessary!“ The Doctor snapped, scanning the room. Most of the enemy soldiers were dead, some of the wounded tried to pull themselves up but they seemed to have lost the appetite for fighting. The Doctor quickly realised why: they were leaderless. “Where is he? Where is the Thirteen?“ She looked around, panicked. They couldn’t have lost him.

“Oh I hope I incinerated him… stealing my face, how dare he…“ The Master mumbled and the Doctor turned on her heels.

“I need him for answers!“ She snapped.

“Perhaps I can oblige.“ A voice called from the other end of the hangar and as they all looked around, they recognised Vastra and with her, being shoved along, Madame Kovarian.

“Vastra!“ Jenny called in relief and rushed over to her wife.

“Madame Kovarian…“ The Doctor’s response was more measured as she narrowed her eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me, a new face.“ Kovarian gave the Doctor a once-over and groaned in annoyance. It was bad enough to have her men bested by a lizard woman, this was adding insult to injury. The Doctor came to meet them halfway as Jenny flung herself around her wife’s neck.

“I should have known you were involved.“ The Doctor clenched her jaw, trying her best not to let her feelings overwhelm her. Instead, she decided to focus on the important questions: “Where is River? Where are you keeping her consciousness?“

“She escaped in our shuttle.“ Vastra cut in, letting go of Jenny at last.

“What?“ The Doctor looked at her confused.

“They’re gone, they got away. And it’s not just her consciousness either, they brought her body back, too.“ Vastra explained more patiently. She smiled contently, River would be safe now.

“Really?“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. A wide grin spread across her face. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She tried not to let herself get swept away in the excitement, keep a level head until she had actually seen River and made sure that she was okay. But she trusted Vastra and she would never doubt her. River was alive. The reality of it still had to sink in.

“Yaz took her back to our shuttle while I was dealing with them.“ Vastra continued. “And your son, too, Doctor.“ She added more softly.

“He’s here, too?“ Tears of joy jumped to the Doctor’s eyes.

“Oh Doctor, you just keep falling for the same trick, don’t you.“ Kovarian cut in, a cruel smile creeping onto her features.

——

Dorium’s Shuttle, 52nd Century

River collapsed against the bulkhead, cradling her son to her chest. Her hearts were racing in her chest, she tried to catch her breath. They had done it.

“Dorium…“ She gasped a greeting but managed a small smile, despite her exhaustion.

“Nice to see you in one piece, Professor, and in the flesh too, pardon the pun.“ Dorium mirrored her fond expression. He had been sat waiting, unable to do anything to help and it was a relief to see they were being successful.

“We can’t stay, Dorium, Vastra said to go, they will find their own way later.“ Yaz explained as she joined them on the bridge. “We need to get the Professor and her child to safety.“

“Certainly.“ Dorium agreed. “Where to, Professor?“

“Luna University, all my things are there.“ River answered after brief consideration and Yaz nodded, working the controls with Dorium’s help. As soon as the air corridor had detached from Demon’s Run and wheeled in, they set off with a jerk, putting distance between the space station and themselves.

“Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, looking at River who had settled in a chair with her child.

“Getting there…“ River sighed. “I’m sorry, I barely caught your name?“

“Yasmin Khan, friends call me Yaz.“ Yaz answered with a smile, watching her rock her son.

“You’re a friend of the Doctor’s?“ River deduced and she nodded.

“And you’re her wife. And mother to her child.“ Yaz smiled.

“Her?“ River raised her eyebrows, surprised. “My, things have changed… how long have I been in that Library for?“ She shook her head to herself.

“Miss Khan, if you could be so kind and jump us into hyper speed, there is only so much a head can do.“ Dorium said. “I will be very glad if I never have to see Demon’s Run ever again.“

“Likewise.“ River chuckled and Yaz turned back to the controls:

“My pleasure.“

It happened as the stars blurred outside and River screamed. The connection severed. Her son disappeared from her arms, dissolving into a white substance, dripping onto the floor. A flesh avatar.

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