Merlin shoves his spell book under his pillow in a panic and relaxes as he sees Summer in the doorway. He nods and gestures for her to come in. Are you alright? You seem a bit… off.
“I — I don’t know, actually. I … I think I need some advice. Or maybe just someone to tell me I’m an idiot.”
He smiles softly and, he hopes, encouragingly, Well, I’ll see what I can do. He tucks his legs up so to sit cross-legged on his bed and leave some room for Summer to sit down.
She plops down on the end of the bed and puts her face in her hands. “Remember a while ago … I — you were telling me someone would come along who would see me and …” She trails off.
“Do you know a knight named Mordred?”
He raises an eyebrow, unsure of what she’s getting at based on the small bit she says. The Mordred I know is a young boy still, but I know that he’s a knight in some other worlds. Why, did something happen with him?
She blinks at him, puzzled. “Other w — ?” Then she shakes her head, dismissing it. Looking down at her hands, she swallows hard, and says, “I’m — I think I’m in love with him.”
Merlin shoves his spell book under his pillow in a panic and relaxes as he sees Summer in the doorway. He nods and gestures for her to come in. Are you alright? You seem a bit… off.
“I — I don’t know, actually. I … I think I need some advice. Or maybe just someone to tell me I’m an idiot.”
He smiles softly and, he hopes, encouragingly, Well, I’ll see what I can do. He tucks his legs up so to sit cross-legged on his bed and leave some room for Summer to sit down.
She plops down on the end of the bed and puts her face in her hands. “Remember a while ago … I — you were telling me someone would come along who would see me and …” She trails off.
Merlin shoves his spell book under his pillow in a panic and relaxes as he sees Summer in the doorway. He nods and gestures for her to come in. Are you alright? You seem a bit… off.
“I — I don’t know, actually. I … I think I need some advice. Or maybe just someone to tell me I’m an idiot.”
“You — you can’t possibly — ” Except, of course, he did. She could taste it, unfamiliar and so tempting. The knowledge shocks every other emotion out of her. From pale, she colours, ducking her head. Too many responses tangle on her tongue, leaving her speechless, able only to give him a pleading look.
“B-but I do,” he stutters, falling silent and for a long time he observes her, the way she reacts, the way she pales and lowers her head, the way she remains silent. “But your my feelings aren’t returned,” Mordred mutters, nodding slightly before he turns and heads out of the room.
Summer is still captive to shock when Mordred walks away, and the most she can do is lift a hand, take a fumbling step forward, before he is gone. Blindly, she makes her way back to the lower town, conscious of very little save that she had someone hurt him irredeemably, and did not know how to fix it.
“Does that matter so much? Is that the only reason you wish me to stay, why you cannot bear to lose me?”
Mordred swallowed, realizing his words had yet again failed him and he’d used them in the wrong context. “No because I-” he pauses, “because I love you.”
“You — you can’t possibly — ” Except, of course, he did. She could taste it, unfamiliar and so tempting. The knowledge shocks every other emotion out of her. From pale, she colours, ducking her head. Too many responses tangle on her tongue, leaving her speechless, able only to give him a pleading look.
“I would,” she says, quietly, and steps forward to bury her face in his chest. “I would tell you anything, and it’s a little frightening.”
He wraps his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her head. “But I am not forcing you to, you may tell me when I am ready.”
She tries to cuddle deeper into his arms, and makes a sound of frustration at being thwarted by his chain mail. “I do wish you didn’t have to wear this all the time.”
“Y-you’re not angry? That I didn’t tell you?” The fear comes out in her voice, rendering it small and high and dumbfounded. True, very few people have ever known the truth of her magic, but almost everyone who had become aware of how easily she read people, regardless of what they considered the source, found it to be offensive, as if she was revealing things they didn’t want known.
Mordred shakes his head. “No, I don’t ask you to tell me everything, Summer.”
“I would,” she says, quietly, and steps forward to bury her face in his chest. “I would tell you anything, and it’s a little frightening.”
“Do you forget what I can do?” She doesn’t care if anyone can hear her; she’s gone from trying to protect him from herself to trying to persuade him — either way there’s anger and frustration. “No one else can see you the way I can! I am /sure/.”
He chewed on his cheek. “No, I haven’t,” he tells her, “how can I?”
Summer flinches, and pales. “What do you mean by that?” she whispers.
“It’s not!” She whirls around and stalks away from him, fists clenched, then turns back. “You are brave, and loyal, and kind, wise and generous and forgiving. I won’t have you malign yourself with lies.”
Mordred watches her, standing there without saying another word. She was wrong, he knew it. She had no idea how wrong she truly was. He pursed his lips, everything he had ever done coming to the forefront of his mind. The knights, the bread, the bandits. Everything. “How can you be so sure?”
“Do you forget what I can do?” She doesn’t care if anyone can hear her; she’s gone from trying to protect him from herself to trying to persuade him — either way there’s anger and frustration. “No one else can see you the way I can! I am /sure/.”
