![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Merlin - The Lady in Red
Title: The Lady in Red
Genre: Het (be afraid), Arthur/Freya
Rating: light R
Length: 600 words
Spoilers: 2.09
Synopsis: A chance meeting at a tiny inn in the middle of nowhere.
Author’s Notes: I had thinky thoughts. I am sorry.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
She was a bit on the thin side, but still far from unhealthy, and her eyes shone brightly as she tugged on his tunic and pulled him into the small room he had just paid for, pale skin highlighted by the afternoon sun slipping in through the tiny window set high in the wall. He was fairly certain she knew who he was, really was, beyond some random traveler just stopping at an inn in the middle of nowhere, but she did not seem to mind and he was not about to press the issue.
She had a passion about her that he almost envied, the way she laughed and was quick to grin. He had a feeling she was hiding something, just that bit too perfect to be real, and he discovered her secret when he slid her dress from her shoulders, saw the way the sleeves pooled at her wrists to reveal the Druid mark.
Magic was not outlawed here, not in this small village on the wrong side of his father’s borders, but it was still considered dangerous to be known, too great of a risk to cross an invisible line and be hunted down for your troubles. She was so young, like he was himself, that it was possible she did not know the threat.
It was also possible she was just too desperate to care. He had seen the tiny bag of possessions she had with her, the way she delicately yet thoroughly cleaned every scrap from her plate. He made a mental note to warn her, perhaps in the morning, just as he made a note to order extra food, the kind you could travel with and stuff into a little wool and leather bag like the one that lay in the corner.
He must have paused too long, as she looked up at him, panicked. Not so naïve then.
“I was cast out for angering an elderly woman,” she said, though he did not remember asking for an explanation. “She blamed me for something I did not do and made sure I was no longer wanted nor welcomed.” She shrugged, too forced and too nonchalant. “Now I’m trying to find some place that will take me, not listen to rumors or fear.” The last was said with a dare.
“You’re too close to Camelot,” he blurted, knowing it threatened to ruin the mood. “It will be dangerous here. Head farther West and you should find a safe place.”
She thanked him with words, with her arms and lips, and he found far better things to occupy his mind with while in the arms of a beautiful half naked woman in a grungy inn over a day’s ride from home.
He snuck out while she slept and returned to fill her bag with treats and a simple dress that had caught his eye in the market, shining bright in Pendragon red. He could not claim her, nor did she want him to, but he could help, at least a little.
They shared a supper, and then shared the bed once more. When he awoke, it was the moonlight streaming in and not the sun, and there was no sign of the woman. He silently wished her luck and wondered if he would ever see her again.
These were the thoughts that raged through his head as he hefted his sword, watching the filthy girl in the once beautiful dress collapse to the stone and scream in agony as her body transformed. He could still help her, but not in the manner he originally intended.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Het (be afraid), Arthur/Freya
Rating: light R
Length: 600 words
Spoilers: 2.09
Synopsis: A chance meeting at a tiny inn in the middle of nowhere.
Author’s Notes: I had thinky thoughts. I am sorry.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
She was a bit on the thin side, but still far from unhealthy, and her eyes shone brightly as she tugged on his tunic and pulled him into the small room he had just paid for, pale skin highlighted by the afternoon sun slipping in through the tiny window set high in the wall. He was fairly certain she knew who he was, really was, beyond some random traveler just stopping at an inn in the middle of nowhere, but she did not seem to mind and he was not about to press the issue.
She had a passion about her that he almost envied, the way she laughed and was quick to grin. He had a feeling she was hiding something, just that bit too perfect to be real, and he discovered her secret when he slid her dress from her shoulders, saw the way the sleeves pooled at her wrists to reveal the Druid mark.
Magic was not outlawed here, not in this small village on the wrong side of his father’s borders, but it was still considered dangerous to be known, too great of a risk to cross an invisible line and be hunted down for your troubles. She was so young, like he was himself, that it was possible she did not know the threat.
It was also possible she was just too desperate to care. He had seen the tiny bag of possessions she had with her, the way she delicately yet thoroughly cleaned every scrap from her plate. He made a mental note to warn her, perhaps in the morning, just as he made a note to order extra food, the kind you could travel with and stuff into a little wool and leather bag like the one that lay in the corner.
He must have paused too long, as she looked up at him, panicked. Not so naïve then.
“I was cast out for angering an elderly woman,” she said, though he did not remember asking for an explanation. “She blamed me for something I did not do and made sure I was no longer wanted nor welcomed.” She shrugged, too forced and too nonchalant. “Now I’m trying to find some place that will take me, not listen to rumors or fear.” The last was said with a dare.
“You’re too close to Camelot,” he blurted, knowing it threatened to ruin the mood. “It will be dangerous here. Head farther West and you should find a safe place.”
She thanked him with words, with her arms and lips, and he found far better things to occupy his mind with while in the arms of a beautiful half naked woman in a grungy inn over a day’s ride from home.
He snuck out while she slept and returned to fill her bag with treats and a simple dress that had caught his eye in the market, shining bright in Pendragon red. He could not claim her, nor did she want him to, but he could help, at least a little.
They shared a supper, and then shared the bed once more. When he awoke, it was the moonlight streaming in and not the sun, and there was no sign of the woman. He silently wished her luck and wondered if he would ever see her again.
These were the thoughts that raged through his head as he hefted his sword, watching the filthy girl in the once beautiful dress collapse to the stone and scream in agony as her body transformed. He could still help her, but not in the manner he originally intended.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.