2011-07-16 03:45 pm (UTC)
Kay/Arthur - Arthur becomes king, fear
I'd love to read a story with the pairing Kay/Arthur (but gen with Kay and Arthur as friends is fine) where Kay is afraid he'll lose Arthur now that Arthur is the king.
Bonus point for Bedivere helping them : D
This started out to be quite different but then the words took over my brain and here is the result. I hope you'll like it.
English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes.
Kay was looking at Arthur on the training field. It was well past midnight and almost everyone had gone to sleep by now. The only people still wide awake were mainly the guards and drunk, though Kay doubted this last category could count as wide awake. This night he wasn't any of those categories, this night he had just wanted to wander around the castle to clear his thoughts. It had been a strange decision that even he was not sure he understood. Usually the best way to clear his thoughts was to get drunk, really drunk and pick a fight. This technique never failed to work on him but this time he somehow knew it wouldn't, or rather he felt it wouldn't work because it hadn't the previous time. So he decided to try a technique Bedivere had told him about: walking in the silence of the night with ones thoughts. So far it had done him no good, no good at all and he was almost quite ready to burst into Bedivere's room to yell at him about having such stupid ideas and imposing them on people. That was not the truth but Kay was good at arguing and was nearly upset enough to do it. Just nearly enough... With any other person he would have already done it but not with Bedivere because the other knight was also really good at arguing, but even better at not responding and at raisonning and Kay didn't like that, not when he was in this mood. But all his plans and thoughts had come abruptly to a stop when he had spotted Arthur in the training field. It was the last person he had expected to meet and the last one he had wanted to see on that night for it was because of the high king that he couldn't sleep. The High King... He hated that term, hated it with such a passion that it was sometimes hard to bear any thoughts about it. It was not that he wasn't loyal to his king, or that he wanted the position. No, he was the most loyal of the knight and definitely didn't relish the high king position. He loved him and all he was doing, and that was exactly where the problem was. He loved the high king. He wanted to punch the wood of the fence at that thought but didn't dare do it for fear of being heard by Arthur. Instead he closed his fists as hard as he could and suppressed a groan. He wanted to remain silent, he didn't want Arthur to notice him because if he did, he would come speak to him and Kay didn't want that. Or rather Kay didn't want to talk with Arthur right now. Because that was the problem really. Arthur had no more time for him. He was always so busy with royal affairs and battles planning. Not that Kay was not of help with this last task but it was not like being with Arthur. It was always professional and so many other knights were usually around. It felt like Arthur didn't have any more time for Kay, it felt like Arthur didn't care for Kay anymore now that he was High King. Now that Kay was his inferior he had become useless and was only given the position of seneschal to keep him quiet and happy. It was like all the years they had together were lost on the High King, like Kay had never been there for him, like he had never taught him how to handle a sword and how to drink. It was like Kay didn't exist anymore. Kay felt a sharp pain coming from his fists and forced himself to untangle them. He would be no good at fighting if he hurt his hands. He kicked the ground in protest of not being able to act and just as he was about to turn away, tearing himself away from the sight of Arthur to find a tavern in which to apply his method of clearing his thoughts, the High King called his name.
I'd love to read a story about the Orkney family. E.g. a family dinner, a late night campfire. I'm especially interested in the sons, but the older generation of the family is more than welcome.
Technically, they weren't really allowed to be wandering about at night like this, with no chaperone, but who would care to stop them? King Lot was asleep in his bed, and even if Queen Morgause wasn't there with him, she didn't care one way or the other what her sons got themselves up to. Gawain, as always, led the party. They were on foot this time, out by the rocks on the strand – a place their father had always forbidden them to be. No sons of mine will be seen climbing on rocks like low-born churls is what he said, but Gawain knew what he really meant to say: it's too dangerous. Just behind him, barefoot and with his shirt off, Mordred climbed deftly while the others slipped and stumbled over their feet. Of course Mordred had done this before: he was not Lot's son, so who would stop him from risking his neck out here? And as always, it seemed that Morgause's firstborn was intent on doing anything and everything he really oughtn't.
Catching Gawain looking at him, Mordred grinned in that cheeky way of his. "Just over the large rock is the tide pool I told you about. Shall we race to the top, brother?"
Gawain only snorted and looked beyond his elder half-brother, to see young Gareth on his bottom on the sand. He should have left the youngest boy behind, just as they always left Clarissant behind – on account of her being a girl, and Mother's favorite. But he'd begged with those sweet green eyes of his, and who could ever say no to that? Gawain slowly climbed back down the rocks to see what had gone wrong. Agravaine was laughing (what else?) and Gaheris knelt by, patting Gareth's shoulder.
"He turned his ankle," supplied Gaheris quietly in reply to Gawain's questioning look. To Gareth's credit, he wasn't crying although he looked as though he wanted to. The lad was only six, so no one would have blamed him for weeping. Carefully, with Gaheris' help, Gawain lifted Gareth onto his back.
"We ought to go back, then. Hear that, Mordred? We're going back!" Mordred waved to show he'd heard and, though he was clearly disappointed, began to climb quickly down. A foot or so away, Agravaine muttered something that, were Gawain's arms not already occupied, would have earned him a nice cuff on the head.
2011-07-16 06:47 pm (UTC)
Mordred/Sagramore - hurt/comfort, first kiss
I'd love to read a story with the pairing Mordred/Sagramore in an h/c situation which grows into their kissing for the first time.
Bonus points if it's Mordred doing the kissing. Even more bonus points if the kiss makes Sagramore forget his English.
"You idiot!" Mordred says, wincing, as he kneels down beside Sagramore, who's trying very, very hard not to writhe against the grass and look undignified. "Your arm's not even mended. What in Christ's name were you thinking?"
Sagramore smiles a little. It does hurt. To be honest, it hurts worse than his arm does, even half-healed from the fight with the Saxons. He hadn't thought being unseated would feel so bad; after all, he's taken tumbles from his horse before, probably a dozen times, and it always shakes him up but it never really hurts. It's different, though, when someone hits you with a lance. He can see that now. "Is he gone?"
"Yes, of course he's gone, he gloated and then he rode off. You're daft, aren't you?"
"Is this not honourable, this thing?"
"Fighting someone twice as good as you when you're already wounded? No, it's just stupid." Mordred rests a hand on his hair, which Sagramore appreciates. It's the only part of his body that doesn't hurt. "Let me check for breaks."
"How d'you know?"
"I can feel," Sagramore says, trying to sound as though he doesn't care at all, trying to sound cavalier and brave and all those things he could pretend to be a lot more easily if he could say the words in Turkish or Hungarian. English always makes him sound like a little fool. He knows that. "I feel. Nothing broken."
Mordred's mouth sets in what's supposed to be a stern line, Sagramore things, but actually looks a little as though he's trying not to laugh. His hands start to explore Sagramore's poor body, squeezing and prodding ever so gently, while Sagramore tries again not to roll around and wail. He's never done anything so painful in his life, he's never had a seizure that made him feel so terrible, and at the same time he's delighted. A knight. He's a knight. Knights do get knocked from their horses, and suffer wounds for valour's sake.
And, of course, some knights get their hurts tended to by beautiful young foreigners. He can feel his cheeks getting hot, but luckily his skin is too dark to show the blush.
"Shut up. I'm almost done."
"Will we stay here until I am well?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to throw you over your horse and take you home as soon as I've made sure your skull isn't cracked."
"What, you want to sleep out here on the ground for a week?"
"Nem," he says.
2011-07-17 01:37 am (UTC)
Lyonors - not just a pretty face
We all know Lynette kicks ass, tell me about how her sister is awesome too. ♥
2011-07-17 02:52 pm (UTC)
Re: Lyonors - not just a pretty face
I need to write this one!
2011-07-17 01:40 am (UTC)
Morgause/Arthur - beautiful enemy
2011-07-17 01:47 am (UTC)
Kay/Mordred - overshadowed
I'm not the only one who sees it, right? Right?
Gonna edit this with my actual fill. I just have to say OMG I KNEW I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE HEEEEEE.
2011-07-17 03:52 am (UTC)
Mordred/Merlin - destiny, love/hate, magic
Bonus points if it's not BBC Merlin.
2011-07-17 11:35 am (UTC)
[Possible AU] Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot - Happy love triangle
I'd love to read a story with the paring Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot in which the three of them are in a happy love triangle. Bonus point if it's AU.
Soooo. >_> Apologies that this isn't *that* happy. Also, it fits into an Arthurian space AU that I've been playing with for a long time.
Athyr is just waking up when Lanse gets back into bed, still wearing his jeans, and settles into the warm hollow he left an hour earlier. Gwen is still down on the practise range shooting, but she'll be back soon, Athyr knows her habits. She only stays half an hour longer than Lanse.
It's still strange to him, having a share in this thing instead of skirting around the edges trying to pretend it isn't happening. It's been a long time since Lanselos and Gwen first started meeting, and Athyr should have said something about it then, but he never had the heart to, not loving them both as he did. It felt almost like he'd brought it on himself after what happened with Anna; he didn't deserve to be happy.
He would have gone on like that for-ever; he could have done it easily. He would've kept on taking his long evening walks to give them time alone, lingering in amongst the grapes that Lukyn tended so lovingly. New Britain was a big, empty planet -- he could've gone on finding things that needed to be done outside the capitol. It was only what he expected.
What he didn't expect was to go to bed one night with static buzzing angrily in his ears and wake up nestled between the two of them, Lanse's arm thrown possessively around his waist and Gwen's cheek against his shoulder (he still isn't sure it's truly real. the last time he was sick it lasted a long time. maybe he's still in the hospital bed in the Menw, hooked up to IVs and dreaming of what he wants).
(Lanse doesn't like to take his guns off, but he'll do it when he's with them, just toss his gunbelt on the floor when he strips off his travelstained clothes and eases into the blankets with them, moving slow from the ache of riding. Lanse grins that goddamn smirking grin and Athyr goes senseless from wanting to kiss him, wanting to taste that grin. Gwenore's hair is so short she doesn't even need to put it up, but at night she runs her hands through it and shakes it out, and puts away her teeth and nails for a little while, and Athyr sees in her everything and nothing of Anna, like the negative of a print, like a holograph gone sideways.
Athyr is just the same as always, though, with his scruffy beard and his calf-mild eyes that get lost looking up into the seaspray of stars. He kisses the wide sweetness of Gwen's sun-burned skin and aches at the feel of Lanse's hand on him, and knows he doesn't deserve this.
But at least he's happy. And he is happy. It doesn't matter if he's sure it isn't real, if he can see the blurring around the edges where things don't fit seamlessly together. This is what he's always wanted, his wife and his best friend, letting him in instead of shutting him out. He's always wanted to be part of what they have. It doesn't matter whether it's real or not.
"Hey, you up?" Lanse grins at him sleepily, coal-black hair rumpled from the pillow. "Where you been?"
"Practise range. Gwen's still there."
"Yeah, I know," Lanse says. "She's always down there. C'mon, give me a kiss, you stingy bastard."
"Fine way to talk to your king."
"Man, when we're in bed, you're my king second, dong ma?"
Athyr laughs and bends down to kiss him) and Lanse's palm spreads against his chest, against the long white scar Medraut left there the day he killed Athyr, the day Marguel sold his body to science in exchange for saving his life. But Athyr closes his brain on that thought, because he's here, with Lanse, and Medraut is still working for him and everything's all right.
And he's happy.
2011-07-17 11:41 am (UTC)
Morgan le Fay/Lady of the Lake - Choices
I'd love to read a story with the pairing Morgan le Fay/Lady of the Lake (whichever version/name you want) with the prompt: "Sometimes little choices you make that don’t mean anything by themselves, end up leading you to something important." (the quote is taken from Veritas: the quest).
2011-07-17 02:51 pm (UTC)
FILL: Morgan le Fay/Lady of the Lake - Choices
Sorry, I don't know if this is what you wanted D: I hope so.
Warning: not enough femslash D: and bad English because it is not my first language.
"Why are you watching me?" asks Morgan le Fay and she knows how to be scary. She has a terrible reputation of murderer and witch.
But the young lady (with her fair reddish - or are the blonde?- hair) seems unmoved.
"Why are you watching me?"
"Because I met you, in the past," answers the young woman. She is tall, taller than Morgan and suddenly Arthur's half sister wishes they were still at the banquet where all the noise would have prevented Morgan of speaking to this unnerving guest.
"I doubt it. I heard you come from France with that young knight."
"His name is Lancelot, I raised him as my son."
Lancelot is almost Arthur's age and it's difficult to Morgan to picture this woman as a mother. She can't be much older than her.
"I am Vivian, the lady of the lake. And you are Queen Morgan le Fay."
"I am not a queen," answers Morgan, with irritation. She will probably be some king's wife but she has time and she is not a queen. Arthur is the High King, not her.
"You could have been." Vivian has pale unnerving eyes that in the moon's light seem almost the color of the sea. "I dreamt of you. You were the queen of Britain. You reigned well for many years."
"It's a childish dream." There was a time, when she still lived with her mother Igraine and when Uther was a distant mirage, in which Morgan had dreamt of being a great queen, a warrior queen and a new Boadicea. It was a child's dream. "Arthur took the sword and he is the legitimate king. Merlin's profecies talked about Igraine's son: Arthur."
Viavian laughs (it is such a beautiful and ringing sound). "Merlin is a man and his are man's profecies. He saw Igraine's child and he decided that he has to be a man. It was his choice."
"Was it the wrong one?" whispers Morgan and it is difficult to say because she just hugged her brother, she just came home after years in a nunnery and all to permit Merlin to raise Arthur without treaths or distractions.
"I don't know. But it was a choice."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I dreamt of your reign and my son was happy with the woman he loved."
There are voices from the castle and the light of the fires and Morgan wonders why he chose to come out, to leave the banquet. The feast has been nice and funny. Morgan has had fun, seated between sir Dinadan and her brother. Then: why did she go out?
"Am I under your spell?"
"No, I wasn't expecting you. But now that you are here I'd ike you to know that you are my choice."
Everything in Vivian is fair and delicate but when she takes Morgan's hand she has a strong hold also if gentle.
"I cannot. Arthur is the king."
"Well, that will have to change."
Vivian's lips are soft and cold but Morgan doesn't shiver.
2011-07-17 02:57 pm (UTC)
[AU] Galahad/Mordred - Arthur finds out about them
Modern Au. (It can be reincarnation or just modern AU).
Galahad and Mordred are lovers. Mordred's father, Arthur, finds out.
Bonus point for Arthur finding about it in embarassing ways XD
She!Galahad and a little OOC, is it ok? :)
(I'm not an English mothertongue, I'm very sorry for my mistakes)
- Where's my necktie? Gail, stop tickling me. Where...
The fair-haired young woman sticked out her tongue at him and looked under the desk. Maurice, serious and frowning, spotted it and spoke in an unfriendly tone:
- Oh there. There, you see?
Gail picked it, then she leaned against him pretending to choke him with it.
- Are you really afraid the boss... er, your father finds out? I'm your boss, technically. And this is my office, so we're doing nothing bad.
She had changed, she had really changed.
What about that awkward French typist who he himself interwieved just two years before?
She was now a top manager and potentially the future chairwoman of the company.
What about her Green Campaign, her funny long skirts and badges?
She was the Queen of the Grey Pantsuit, now. Light make-up and thin eyebrows.
Only, her kisses were the same. Fortunately.
- There is no one in my department now and if my father knows...
- He knows everything. It is fine for him if we meet now and then.
Maurice gaped and pointed his finger at the door, then his face grew red and he tried to hide his naked legs behind the desk.
Gail turned round just to see Mr. Pendleton on the doorstep.
- I know everything now. Miss Benwick, why didn't you tell me you loved my son?
It was the first time for Arthur Pendleton to speak these words with such fondness.
- She... doesn't love me. It was my mistake, Dad. Please.
Gail looked at him. She looked offended.
- Mr. Pendleton, I can explain. - she answered, anyway.
The old man smiled. - I think it's me who has to explain, Miss Benwick. Maurice, if you put your trousers on, you can listen too.
Maurice slowly dressed himself, his eyes staring at the floor, then he sat to listen his father's words.
- When I found out you were my son, I was afraid you were going to spoil all my hard work - this company - in a raptus of greed. So I hired Miss Benwick.
- To check on me. - Maurice was angry and confused. His conscience was not exactly clean. - But it was me who interviewed her and told you to hire her... was it just...?
- Exactly - Arthur nodded, - the other applicants were walk-ons.
Maurice clenched his fists. His father knew all about his dirty tricks. About the industrial secrets he blurted out to their competitors.
- That's ok. It's over. Are you going to charge me. Dad? Just to call my lawyer first.
Gail grinned and he really didn't know why she was so cruel to him.
- I told you, I know everything, not half the truth. The informations you gave them were a fake. You would have never done nothing against me or the company. You just needed money to raise your little daughter.
- Melanie, a pretty name - Gail said, her eyes sparkling.
- And you had... you have too much pride to ask me! - Arthur laughed. - Come on, it's all right. Come on!
Maurice stood up and lapsed into his father's embrace.
- So, you don't really love him, Miss Benwick? - The chairman raised an eyebrow.
She had changed, yes. She had to, because she was far too vulnerable when they had met. When, investigating on Maurice's movements, she discovered his contacts with rival companies, she had taken it bad.
Thus, the transformation. Mr. Pendleton had assigned her to the Sales Department and she had found she could really fulfil his requests. She had began to speak and act as a businesswoman. But she was more and more involved with Maurice, no matter what he had done...
So, when she had found he was innocent, what else could her heart feel but love, love and relief?
- He told that, Mr. Pendleton, not I. - Her smile was so warm, and Maurice reached his hand out to her.
She was his funny girl, again. Not a spy, nor just a manager. Just Gail.
And he was that boy, again. Not a traitor, nor just the chairman's son. Just Maurice.
Arthur's eyes filled with tears, while he walked out the room.
They're siblings. There's angst involved.
2011-07-17 03:54 pm (UTC)
Morgan(/whoever) - the other side of you
Morgan, paired with someone (someones?) if you want.
Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?
- T. S. Eliot
(Sorry, I'm not English mothertongue)
I love you, my darling wife.
I love your brightness and your shadows too.
I have taken you just the way you were; your brother had already told me about you were not perfect, nor a maiden.
I needed a mother for my sons, a mate to warm my last days. And you are, really, you are what I had wished for.
But there's something I cannot explain. Not just a shadow: a presence.
Someone inside of you, who makes your eyes sparkle... When you sit and when you go, when you spin and when you talk, there's a vibration I cannot have kindled in you.
Who is he? Who?
You are fire, fire in my arms, but you don't burn for me.
Who is he?
I have tossed and turned in my bed, while I was ill and you stayed by my side. I was dreaming about a man, a masked man. He was laughing at me... you were both laughing at me...
- My lord!
It was just a dream. I am fine now. And I know you love me only.
- It was just a nightmare, Morgan. You are so kind to me... you'd deserve much better than me...
You and Accolon look at each other, a little upset. You are both concerned. You care so much for me... oh, I am so lucky!
There is no other man.
It's just an old, weak, foolish man's fear.
Mordred/Gaheris where Gaheris tries to make Mordred jealous and it... kind of works? Only the person he's trying to make him jealous of is a selkie.
2011-07-18 05:29 am (UTC)
Re: Kay/Bedwyr, with snark
This is extremely relevant to my interests <3
2011-07-18 03:16 am (UTC)
Just sort of a general expose of Sagramore's adventures in sleeping with everyone in Camelot ever. Bonus points if it's young!Sagramore and his bad English.