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The Old Still Young, Tag: Merlin
Posted: Nov 18 2017, 05:16 PM
She’d been there since the castle appeared. It seemed that she took her first breaths just as the last bricks were put in place and the dust settled. Days passed, no more than 3 or 4. Time was meaningless in this dark, dank space. No windows allowed moonlight or sunlight to stream in. There was a door, but no one tried to enter. It seemed she was in the middle of the castle and forgotten. Or perhaps anyone who might be living here was afraid to come to her quarters. She wouldn’t blame them. She would to. Every night she transformed into a gigantic cat prepared to fight anything that came her way. Every morning she turned back again. It seemed death and rebirth did not destroy her curse.
Freya was starting to get hungry and thirsty, but she was afraid to leave the room. What was out there? She didn’t know. What if she turned and attacked someone? She didn’t want to think about it. Maybe this was her fate. Perhaps she would live here for all of eternally. Perhaps she wasn’t really alive. Maybe this was her purgatory. Maybe she was here for her sins and at some point she would move on. Something in her thought that seemed wrong. She was warm. Her heart beat. Her lungs breathed. She was alive and she was stuck. At least that was her hope.
The silence was maddening. The silence was deafening. To fill the hours and the quiet, she sang. She sang every song her parents and the druids taught her. She sang them in her native language and in English.
“My dashing darling is my hero
My dashing darling is my Caesar
I have had neither sleep nor good fortune
Since my dashing darling went far away
I am perpetually worried every day
Wailing heavily and shedding tears
Since my lively boy was released from me
And there is no word of him, alas”
She forgot the next lines. So she stopped to think as she sat curled into a tight ball in the corner of the room. The lyrics reminded her of Merlin. Oh how she missed him. She missed his warm smile and hopeful eyes. She missed how he made her feel and how he treated her.
There were sounds outside the door. Head darting up, she stared. Lips parted, Freya’s breath came out in quick huffs. Heart pounding, Freya gripped her knee. What if the person opened the door? What if the person was bad? What if she got hurt or what if she hurt that someone in return? She wasn’t sure if it was time for her transformation. She was afraid and so she cowered.
Posted: Jan 12 2018, 11:44 AM
Being in that town was more pleasant than he might have thought at first. Of course, it's not like he originally knew he was going to end up trapped in a city you couldn't seem to get out of, with a Horned King just around the corner, kidnapping people randomly from different universes and different parts of the world. He wanted to stop him, of course, although he wasn't sure how to do it. He didn't know who or what exactly the Horned King was, so he couldn't have a clear idea of how to even stop his feet, which in case you hadn't noticed, frustrated him enough. Merlin just wanted to... protect Storybrooke, just as he had long ago protected Camelot. Of course in Camelot he had received help coming from Gaius and Kilgharrah, but minor details of little importance. Now, however, it is not that he had much help to turn to, and from what he could understand, whoever the Horned King was , he was not one of the magical creatures that he had found himself with more than once in Camelot. All those had become extinct, like dragons, like magicians... everything had been lost, nothing had prevailed, and it hurt. He was a Dragonlord where dragons no longer existed, and he was a sorcerer in a land where people had stopped believing in magic. It was sad.
But it wasn't all bad or sad. After all, he had managed to get Arthur and Gwen back, which was enough for the boy after losing both of them. At first, looking at Gwen had hurt him, for he was aware of what he had done when they were still in Camelot. He had abandoned her, he had left, he had left the castle when she had surely needed him most, he had left without even thinking about her feelings. Oh, he had been so selfish. He could not have stayed, he knew he could not have endured the pain that would have invaded him every time he walked the halls, every time he went to clean the quarters that had once been occupied by a happy couple, not by a widow he had left behind. He repented, regretted his decisions, regretted not even having warned her, told her the reason why he would surely not return to Camelot. He hadn't said anything to her, not a single word... and yet, Gwen didn't seem angry or annoyed, just happy to see him again, and being honest, that was enough for the boy, because her smile, the one he had sometimes even forgotten, could make him forget all the sorrows he had been carrying on his shoulders for all that time, now... everything felt easier, more normal.
Even walking through a castle that had appeared from nowhere seemed normal to him. For the third time. He had entered the wolfs mouth three times, and maybe he was risking himself too much, but what could he say, life could not be lived to the fullest without risk. The boy was opening every door he found, to see if there were any prisoners or people who had gotten lost inside, but certainly what his blue eyes found when he opened a certain door... he would have never expected it. When he opened one of the doors located at the end of the corridor, he was able to see a pale girl, with black hair like the night, in a fetal position, as if she wanted to become a ball and disappear in a blink, the curious thing is that she looked familiar... because he recognised her. "Freya?" He could not help but ask, for he was not sure whether it would be some strange illusion created by the Horned King, something that could not be real, because it could not. But he had heard that there were people coming back from the death, so it could be possible... but she, she... it couldn't be true, it was too good to be true, he was recovering many people who he had loved so as not to fear that something terrible would take them away again. But at the time he was just concentrating on her, checking to see if she was the girl he wad watched die in his arms.
Sig made by the awesome, astonishing... running out of adjectives, uhm, Bach <3
Posted: Apr 27 2018, 08:34 PM
Freya stared into the darkness. Her thin frame shivered from cold and fear. Her mind was a flurry of activity, though. Questions upon questions built. Where was this place? What Kingdom was this? Had death taken her to a different realm of the underworld? Was this a place of sin? It surely was not a place of relief and solace. It was too dank. It was too grungy. Was this home for the next millennia? That seemed likely, but dreadful. Perhaps there was a better option. Perhaps life claimed her soul instead. Perhaps life replaced death. She felt alive for the first time in a very long time. Death was not cold or hot or fearful or hopeful or painful nor did it cause pulses to thrum and send poofs of cold breath clouds with every exhale or inhale. There was no passage of time, not even moments of hunger pangs or dry mouth. She just was. She just existed. At least not in her encounter with death did not go that way. Others may very well have found a different experience. It was not an experience that Freya wanted to experience for a very, very long time. She knew, of course, that death was inevitable, but it ought to come in old age after having had a family and grandchildren and a full, fruitful life. With this second chance, she hoped to make the best of this world (after escaping this dungeon).
When fear washed over her she slept. When she could not sleep she tried to think of positive things. There was nothing positive about this moment except that she was alive once more. But she thought of strawberries. She thought of bright blue eyes that crinkled with mirthful smiles that came often and lit up the room. She thought of mountains and wild flowers and the pines that whispered and whistled with the winds. She thought of skipping stones on a smooth lake and dancing barefoot on a mossy knoll. She thought of bits of flame floating overhead. She thought of soft kisses. She thought of her happiest memories. They kept her calm and happy. They brought hope. They brought back the will to continue living, although that rarely faltered. Would there be other happy memories to add to the reservoir? There must be. There must be good and happy times ahead. Freya was certain that there would be. In her heart and in her bones she was certain of it. Freya wouldn’t have it any other way. She was an eternal optimist that way. Even before meeting Merlin she was a hopeful person. When Merlin met her, she had been fearful, but she had never lacked hope. Merlin was the only other person she had ever met who had as much hope in heart as herself. That had been utterly refreshing.
Right then, balled into a fetal position, she thought of Merlin. How had the rest of his life gone? Had he been happy? Had he found support and love and friendship? Had he gotten everything he deserved and more? She hoped that. She hoped that so much. I must be hearing things or maybe this castle is tricking me. Merlin can’t be here, can he? she wondered when his voice broke the silence. She uncurled herself from the protective ball she’d furled into. The ball had been to protect herself from whoever ran this castle. She feared what they would do. But they did not know her name. She knew it was safe. Standing, Freya went to the door. “Merlin? Is that really you or am I dreaming?” she asked. Her breath came quiet and soft. Reaching out, the woman pulled Merlin to her. Wrapping her arms around him, Freya hugged him as tightly as possible and showered his cheeks with kisses. “Oh Merlin. You’re alive. I am alive. I never thought I would see you again. How are you here? I don’t understand. I don’t care though. But I do care that you are alive. You are alive, right? Please tell me you are and do not lie. I could not take it.” Tears of joy streamed down her smiling face, but she paid them no heed. Merlin being here was all that mattered. The tears would soon dry, even if it might make her face a bit itchy for a little while, and no one would be any wiser. She couldn’t believe how glorious this new life was turning.
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