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Tag Archives: xregicide
merlinyouidioticservant replied to your post: Summer stared at her phone — at those two texts —…
RYAN WE CAN DO THE THING WHERE MORDRED THOUGHT MERLIN WAS DEAD. AND SUMMER HAS TO LIKE PULL HIM AWAY FROM MERLINS BODYU
… and now I’m crying and wow and ow and just
wot
but yes okay
Summer stared at her phone — at those two texts — for what felt like ages but was more like a second or two, before she shook it into her shoulder bag and took off down the street. ‘You failed again,’ cried the little voice, the voice she hated with all her heart, in the back of her mind. Fiercely she told it to shut up and ran harder.
He’d cut a vein? What the hell? He’d been happy; Mordred was back from his tour and they were deeply in love; they were going to move in together; usually he would talk to her about these things before they got out of hand — as clearly something had. Hair tangled in her eyelashes and she shoved it impatiently out of the way, fumbling her keys off her hip and taking the stairs two at a time.
“Mordred? Merlin?” Summer yelled down the hall, stopping herself short just barely before crashing into Merlin’s flat’s door.
“I — I don’t know how to explain it. Just … being here. Everything. Memories. Edward, and Winter, and father, and just — everything.” Her shoulders slumped, voice carrying a weight of frustration and sadness. “I left to get away from this. Partly, anyway. To find out who I was, and I come back and everything I gained is lost.”
He shakes his head, “it isn’t lost, you just got reminded of things and now need to think.”
“Things I don’t need to remember, things I don’t want to remember! Things like,” she stumbled on the words, “like how little I am liked here. How I am not wanted. Not — there’s nothing /here/ for me. And if there’s nothing here, how can there be anything anywhere else?” Summer pushed the door to the armory open and stepped inside, bracing her hands on the table with her head low.
Summer didn’t stop, or look back, but she did slow her step until he walked beside her. She was doing it again, she knew she was doing it again, but somehow always being here, with the memories breathing from every tapestry and the same faces turned in the same old way — it made her feel small, pressed back into the shell of the person she used to be. The person she’d gone to Camelot to escape.
And that person could never deserve the knight by her side. That person deserved nothing and no one, was destined to rot in Dobria until she was bargained off as goods to some old fool in an alliance, in whose castle she would then continue to rot until she died. She became aware her hand was opening and closing on the hilt of her sword, and forced herself to still.
“What is it?”
“What is wrong?” he asks jogging up to her, slowing as he got up towards her.
“I — I don’t know how to explain it. Just … being here. Everything. Memories. Edward, and Winter, and father, and just — everything.” Her shoulders slumped, voice carrying a weight of frustration and sadness. “I left to get away from this. Partly, anyway. To find out who I was, and I come back and everything I gained is lost.”
but you just said you convinced someone they were — doesn’t that imply they aren’t I thought dropbears were nice and went QUACK my whole life is a lie isn’t it
I was being sarcastic.
my whole life ryan — also the cat just went to sleep on my foot
what do you mean dropbears aren’t real
They are real.
My friend got attacked by one once, it was great. Got a scar on his face and all.
but you just said you convinced someone they were — doesn’t that imply they aren’t I thought dropbears were nice and went QUACK my whole life is a lie isn’t it
what do you mean dropbears aren’t real
“I don’t know why I said that.” Her voice was low. “Just being here … sometimes … I think of things, I remember things I’d be better off forgetting.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sweeping over the Dobrian knights emerging onto the field. “They aren’t envious of you, the way they are, a little, of Mihangel. You — should talk to them.” Summer looked back up at him, but she wasn’t really seeing him; she was seeing the past, her childhood. “I’ll just — I should put up my gear.” She straightened her shoulders, glancing back again, and walked toward the castle.
”Summer — ” he calls with no intention of heading towards the other knights. “Summer!” he calls again, chewing the inside of his cheek, “wait up!”
Summer didn’t stop, or look back, but she did slow her step until he walked beside her. She was doing it again, she knew she was doing it again, but somehow always being here, with the memories breathing from every tapestry and the same faces turned in the same old way — it made her feel small, pressed back into the shell of the person she used to be. The person she’d gone to Camelot to escape.
And that person could never deserve the knight by her side. That person deserved nothing and no one, was destined to rot in Dobria until she was bargained off as goods to some old fool in an alliance, in whose castle she would then continue to rot until she died. She became aware her hand was opening and closing on the hilt of her sword, and forced herself to still.
“What is it?”
“Oh, unkind!” Summer took Mordred’s hand and pulled, wrapping her arms around him as she came to her feet. “And yet you say you love me. I thought you said I am beautiful, but I see now.” She grinned up at him. “Perhaps you agree with Edward, I am unfeminine and therefore undesirable?” The words spilled out of her mouth before she thought, a memory pulled to the surface she hadn’t meant to expose quite so rawly.
Mordred pursed his lips, looking down at her, an unamused expression on his face.”Summer,” he says firmly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he tells her. “You’re a beautiful mess.”
“I don’t know why I said that.” Her voice was low. “Just being here … sometimes … I think of things, I remember things I’d be better off forgetting.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sweeping over the Dobrian knights emerging onto the field. “They aren’t envious of you, the way they are, a little, of Mihangel. You — should talk to them.” Summer looked back up at him, but she wasn’t really seeing him; she was seeing the past, her childhood. “I’ll just — I should put up my gear.” She straightened her shoulders, glancing back again, and walked toward the castle.