the first dawn of light in your universe brings pain. the light burns you. it will always burn you. part of you will always lie upon black glass sand beside a lake of fire while flames chew upon your flesh. you can hear yourself breathing. it comes hard, and harsh, and it scrapes nerves already raw, but you cannot stop it. you can never stop it. you cannot even slow it down. / @𝙏𝙃𝙀𝘽𝙀𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙔𝘼𝙇, a writing blog for anakin skywalker / darth vader of star wars, adored by chloe.
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padmé amidala was completely still. the brown halo of her hair spread out around her, softened here and there by white blossoms that had blown through the air to find their rest amongst her curls. her skin was pale and perfect. her face was peaceful. her eyes were closed and her hands were clasped across her stomach as she floated. naboo carried on without her. / @𝘗𝘈𝘋𝘔𝘈𝘠𝘚, a writing blog for padmé amidala of star wars, written by chloe.
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padmé amidala was completely still. the brown halo of her hair spread out around her, softened here and there by white blossoms that had blown through the air to find their rest amongst her curls. her skin was pale and perfect. her face was peaceful. her eyes were closed and her hands were clasped across her stomach as she floated. naboo carried on without her. / @𝘗𝘈𝘋𝘔𝘈𝘠𝘚, a writing blog for padmé amidala of star wars, written by chloe.
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・゚ 𝔱𝔯𝔠𝔨𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔢𝔯 — 𝔩𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔣𝔶𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔤,
!! ‘ i am not sure you do! ’ Leon yelled. There were people in town who talked of magic in soft whispers, excited giggles like children who were up late and sleeping side by side on the floor of a drawing rooms fire; they believed it was an opportunity to be entertained. They wanted magicians and jugglers, as though it was a circus and not their own livelihoods. The red hair about his face flopped as he stepped back, his hand running through it in a stressed motion. Arthur was a good king, and more importantly a good man, but he was more than a little intimidating to some of the newer guardsmen of Camelot; they were scared. His leader was not his father. As much as it made him cringe away to think it, Uther was a hard man and cruel in some of his endeavours.
‘ there is a way to do this without losing half of your banner men!’ the knight threw his hands up and pressed gloved fingers to his forehead in frustration. Words weren’t his forte- leave that to the poets and maesters. Hadn’t Arthur been the one walking the walls to practice poetry with his manservant? Or had that been just another lie to protect him? He sniffed and squinted upwards at the ceiling, great and painted high above them. Arthur was making sense but it was too scary to consider the battle the decision might cause, ‘ of course they don’t deserve to live in fear, but neither do your own subjects! ’
his voice was small when he spoke again, the realisation that his argument made him sound like a monster looming over his head. Blue eyes found Arthur’s, ‘ I was there for near every raid on druid camps- do you not think I am haunted by what we did as well? ’
❛ they have lived in fear long enough leon! i understand the penalties and the dangers to my decision. but it is in the end — my decision and mine alone. one i have thought very deeply about. i’m not just deciding this on a whim! ❜ it had been a long ongoing battle since his days as prince. magic has never been a clear thing in arthur’s life. he was raised to hate it, but he seen the good in it too. ❛ magic may be seen as vile and evil to some! but so can the average man! we cannot hide away from something just because we fear it. ❜
now the king has gotten to his feet, by pushing his chair back with the horrid sound of wood quickly scrapping against wood. ❛ i will not rule in fear like my father did, i will not let that or hatred rule for me. ❜ hands come to harshly land on the surface in front of him, his eyes do not pull away from his knight.
but slowly, they both begin to calm and when leon next speaks, arthur picks up on how much his volume has come down. arthur takes a deep breath. ❛ i know you are haunted by those days, because i am too, we all are. but we can amend for those horrors we committed. we can right now, make certain, that such a thing will never happen again. ❜ his tone matches leon’s, small and quiet. ❛ the druid people won’t have to continue to live in fear. my father’s ban can not continue. ❜
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・゚ 𝔣𝔞𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔦 — 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔫 𝔣𝔞𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔶,
WORRY HAS MADE A HOME OF HER. it sets in her bones, the delicate lines upon her face. she has learned that it treads a similar path to fear, and that between those two paths is a very fine thread. one may CROSS into the other without even realising it. she no longer knows if she’s scared or concerned, but when her hand extends towards arthur’s face, she feels it all melt away. for now, he is warm, ALIVE, thriving. fingers gently brush flax - coloured strands from his forehead, careful not to DISTURB the bandages at his side as she situates herself beside him.
❛❛ i must say, it does fill me with some RELIEF to know that you are LISTENING to me for once. ❜❜ even if he does so begrudgingly. quinn shuffles closer to her king, close enough that she may kiss his cheek and the curve of his cheekbone. her hand closes over his, gently guiding it onto her lap so she may CRADLE it between both of hers. to her great shame, there had been a moment when she had doubted, when trepidation had leaked through the veil of hope and slowly began to STAIN her confidence. there had been talk of his disappearance, of the possibility that neither him nor merlin would return to the safety of camelot, and now, too many times has she heard of their TUMULTUOUS journey. the knights speak of the horrific and devastating battle. the serfs whisper of the king’s STATE upon their return.
being near to arthur’s bedside is presently the only thing that brings her comfort. camelot had come so close to LOSING him ———— the only thing that has ever truly MEANT something in her life. she thinks now of the child growing inside her —— the secret he still has yet to discover —— who almost LOST its father before it was even born. hand clasps his tighter, turning her face to rest her forehead against his temple. ❛❛ you may be the king, a mhuirnín, but it will serve the kingdom no good if you are not PROPERLY rested. ❜❜
he doesn’t remember the journey back to camelot, not a single moment of it. what he does remember however is the open field ... and merlin’s face above him. he remembers the pain, that had been ravishing through him, burning him from the inside, beginning to fade as eyes grew heavy and breathes became weak. he remembers his knees giving way — he remembers hearing morgana’s voice and her final breath being drawn. he does not remember his arrival back to his kingdom : after they all were told their king was lost.
he’d been told that himself and merlin had been missing for up to a week before merlin came staggering into the city with his king alongside him. he’d been told that he was to live, despite previous belief that the wound inflicted would be the end of him. the bandage felt tight around his waist and every breathe he took came with a small dose of pain. just as strong as it had been, not as agonising. but it was there, like a dull blade being lodged between bones.
❛ hm ... i’m almost certain if i tried to get out of this bed, percival or leon would pin me back down into it. ❜ he laughs — but it’s cut short and ends in a groan. he takes a mental note, laughing hurts, probably best not to do that again. but he’s looking at her, like she’s his entire world. he thought he was to never see her again, that his last memory of her was to be that final quick kiss given before heading off to war. he hums under her warm touch, his fever is yet to break.
he squeezes her hand with the soft might the injured king could conjure up. they’ve done this so many times before, but never has he felt this eternally grateful to be able to lay his eyes on her : never has he felt so close to death. ( and that’s saying something. ) when she presses her forehead against his, his eyes flutter shut and he presses back. ❛ i am resting. this is me resting. though, it is probably best that you stay here and watch over me ... to make sure i am properly rested. ❜ he ��says, with his smirk returning.
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