lady_ragnell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-04-24 11:39 pm
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-04-24 11:39 pm
Entry tags:
Going, Going, Gone
Title: Going, Going, Gone
Wordcount: ~1800
Summary: Nimueh and Ygraine have one last moment before everything changes.
A/N: I have decided that Merlin needs more older generation fic. This is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
non_island. Also, why is all my canon-era fic so depressing?
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
When Ygraine is upset, she goes to whatever high spot she can find. When it rains or when her maidservant is there to fret at her about the cold, she just waits at her window, still and silent, but on clear nights like this, she goes to the castle heights, just as she always has. Nimueh isn’t surprised to find her there, a light-haired beacon in the moonlight and every inch a princess, on her last night in the palace.
“Were you thinking of not saying goodbye?” she asks, keeping her tone light and teasing to bring Ygraine back. “I must leave at dawn to get to the Isle before nightfall.”
Ygraine turns. Her mouth is tight and her eyes are red, but there are no tear-tracks on her face. She is too proud for that, and Nimueh won’t ask her to give that pride up. “I knew you would find me. Can you blame me for not wanting anyone else to see?”
Nimueh goes to her, takes her hands. When next they see each other, they won’t be able to do this with honour, so she must remember it now. Were it up to her, they would have this always, because the honor of the nobility means little to her, but Ygraine’s honour is as fierce as her pride. She will not betray her husband. So Nimueh makes a memory out of every line on Ygraine’s palms, of the strength that her pale skin belies. “I would have come sooner, if I’d known you were waiting.”
“There are others, though. I knew that. I’m not the only one you must say goodbye to.”
Uther, with apologies for missing his wedding, and his friends. Tristan, as much a brother to her as Ygraine isn’t a sister. Gaius, with Alice the apprentice midwife smiling next to him and his little sister trailing after him shyly. None of them matter as much. “It isn’t goodbye forever, Ygraine, you know that.”
“We won’t be the same, though. You’ll be a full priestess at last, ready to be our Court Sorcerer, and I’ll be--”
“My Queen, just as you always have been,” promises Nimueh. “I’ll care for you no less, and you’ll care for me no less.” Ygraine raises her eyebrow in a way she must have picked up from Gaius. “Differently,” she concedes, “but no less.”
“So much is going to change.”
Nimueh leans into Ygraine’s shoulder. “Not this. Not us. I will be by your side, to advise you and Uther and to help you raise your children and to make Camelot great.”
Ygraine tilts Nimueh’s chin until they are face to face again. “You will be at my side, and you will advise us, but I will not have children.” Nimueh opens her mouth to object and Ygraine hushes her quickly. “I do not--Gaius will never say it, especially not in Uther’s hearing, and I don’t think you would either, but Alice looks at me as if … I will not have children, Nimueh. The fever, last year …”
“You will,” Nimueh starts.
Once again, she is hushed, and Ygraine looks back out over her city. After the bloody battles that led to a warlord preparing to take the throne, it is being rebuilt, even better than before. Uther has been working alongside his people, endearing himself to them as nothing else could. “I know that as a priestess you cannot wed, not really, but … Tristan would, I think. I would raise your child as my own, and you could see him whenever you wished …”
It takes Nimueh a moment to realize what Ygraine is asking of her. “I am honoured that you would consider it, but it will not be needed, Ygraine, I promise you. It will not come to it, but if it does …” She pauses, wonders if she should mention since the lady herself doesn’t yet realize, but perhaps it would comfort Ygraine. “If it comes to that, Lady Vivianne is with child.”
Ygraine’s smile twists. “It’s Uther’s. That would be fitting enough, then.”
Nimueh doesn’t ask how she knows, or for any more details. She respects Uther, even if she does not always like him, but the certainty in Ygraine’s voice makes her want to tear him limb from limb. “He would not dare put a bastard on the throne. Not when he’s claimed the throne through bloodshed and not birthright.”
“Always so ready to protect me.” The bitterness fades from her face, leaving only the softness that Nimueh has come to know well in the past five years since she came to Camelot. “Pity Gorlois, Nimueh, not me. Twice a father but neither is his. If Vivianne is wise she won’t let on this time, and won’t have another daughter sent away from her.”
“Little Morgause is safe with the priestesses, though. We watch over her. Her magic grows by leaps and bounds, from what I hear.” Nimueh sighs and pushes Ygraine’s hair out of her face. “I worry, though. I don’t wish to give you up to someone who will love you any less than I do.”
“He needs me. For now, that’s enough. It will become love, after a while.” Nimueh envies him for getting to fall in love with Ygraine as she has already done; for the first time he sees her riding with her hair caught in the sunlight; for the first time she smiles at him unfettered; for the first time she kisses him. Nimueh has had all this already and all to herself, and she remembers how giddy and sweet it was at first. Yes, she envies him his discovery that Ygraine is far more than the lady on a tapestry that she appears to be. But she cannot resent him--they always knew it would come to this, and he is worthy enough. At least she thought he was before she realized he would cuckold his best friend. Then again, Ygraine loves another as well.
“Perhaps you will suit each other well, then,” says Nimueh at last, trying not to let out her desperate jealousy. It must be like this.
Ygraine draws her into an embrace, and they stay like that for a while, until Ygraine pulls away just far enough to look her in the eyes. “You said it will not come to putting my husband’s bastard on the throne, or to me raising your child, though I would be glad to do it. You’re no Seer, Nimueh. How could you know?”
“The Druids, the Dragonlords, some of the priestesses … they speak of your son.” Ygraine’s eyes widen. “I will not know myself until I’ve been initiated and I learn the mysteries of destiny, but they speak of him.”
“Tell me.” They move to lean on the battlement, to look out over Camelot. She will miss this view, on the Isle. “Tell me about my son.” She can hear the tears caught in Ygraine’s throat. “Will he be worth losing you?”
Nimueh takes her hand. “You won’t lose me. But he’ll be wonderful, Ygraine. The greatest king Albion has ever seen or ever will see. A Golden Age for Camelot, but not just for Camelot. He will bring all of Albion under Pendragon’s banner. A kingdom too vast to imagine.”
“So he will be glorious. Will he be good?”
“We will make him so,” Nimueh promises. “Uther will teach him the sword, and you will teach him kindness, and Gaius will teach him wisdom, and I will teach him the Old Religion. He will be great, and he will not be alone either.”
“Not with us there to teach him.” Ygraine pats her stomach as if she can already feel the flutter of life there.
“He will have a companion as well. The Druids speak of him as well. The great sorcerer Emrys, with power enough to bind the land to his will.”
“I know no Emrys. Surely I would know the name of a sorcerer so powerful. You would have mentioned him.”
Nimueh laughs. “He is not yet born either. They will be companions, not teacher and student. We will search for him, after your son is born. Bring him so they will be brought up together, learn to love each other young. They will be companions just as we are.”
Ygraine smiles. “Just as we are?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. The Druids do not speak of that.” She can’t help a smile of her own. “At least not where a maiden priestess can hear them.”
Now Ygraine puts a careful hand over Nimueh’s womb, turning away from her beloved Camelot. “Will Emrys be your son? Is that why I am drawn so close to you, for the sake of our sons?”
Nimueh shrugs. “I don’t know. He could as easily be Vivianne’s child--then he and yours would truly be brothers. Or perhaps he’ll belong to Gaius and Alice. Or someone else, someone we don’t know. Tom the apprentice blacksmith’s son, I know he was recently married.” That coaxes a smile out of Ygraine. “It doesn’t matter if he’s mine or not. I will be here, for you and your son and for the boy Emrys when we find him.”
“And for Uther?”
“Uther will have my loyalty.” You will have my love, she does not add. She doesn’t need to. “We will make Camelot ready, and your son will make it great.”
Ygraine kisses her, lips cool and soft, and Nimueh lets herself cling, this last time. She hadn’t hoped for this, for anything more than a tearful goodbye with the moon above and Camelot below. It will make their dawn parting so much harder, but she is selfish enough not to care, if it means that she can take this with her. “I will love him as much as I can, but you must never leave me, Nimueh,” says Ygraine breathlessly when they part. “I could not bear to be without you.”
“You will never be without me. Just these months, and then never again if I can manage it.” She smooths her thumbs across Ygraine’s cheekbones. “I will always be at your side, just as I have been. Protecting you. I couldn’t bear to be without you either.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I should have let Tristan--”
“And start an endless war between Pendragon and DuBois? You were right to broker the peace, even if it hurts us.” She catches Ygraine’s hands in hers again. “Come inside. We can have this once more. They cannot deny us once more.”
Ygraine casts one more look out over the battlements, but she follows.
Wordcount: ~1800
Summary: Nimueh and Ygraine have one last moment before everything changes.
A/N: I have decided that Merlin needs more older generation fic. This is for
non_island. Also, why is all my canon-era fic so depressing?Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
When Ygraine is upset, she goes to whatever high spot she can find. When it rains or when her maidservant is there to fret at her about the cold, she just waits at her window, still and silent, but on clear nights like this, she goes to the castle heights, just as she always has. Nimueh isn’t surprised to find her there, a light-haired beacon in the moonlight and every inch a princess, on her last night in the palace.
“Were you thinking of not saying goodbye?” she asks, keeping her tone light and teasing to bring Ygraine back. “I must leave at dawn to get to the Isle before nightfall.”
Ygraine turns. Her mouth is tight and her eyes are red, but there are no tear-tracks on her face. She is too proud for that, and Nimueh won’t ask her to give that pride up. “I knew you would find me. Can you blame me for not wanting anyone else to see?”
Nimueh goes to her, takes her hands. When next they see each other, they won’t be able to do this with honour, so she must remember it now. Were it up to her, they would have this always, because the honor of the nobility means little to her, but Ygraine’s honour is as fierce as her pride. She will not betray her husband. So Nimueh makes a memory out of every line on Ygraine’s palms, of the strength that her pale skin belies. “I would have come sooner, if I’d known you were waiting.”
“There are others, though. I knew that. I’m not the only one you must say goodbye to.”
Uther, with apologies for missing his wedding, and his friends. Tristan, as much a brother to her as Ygraine isn’t a sister. Gaius, with Alice the apprentice midwife smiling next to him and his little sister trailing after him shyly. None of them matter as much. “It isn’t goodbye forever, Ygraine, you know that.”
“We won’t be the same, though. You’ll be a full priestess at last, ready to be our Court Sorcerer, and I’ll be--”
“My Queen, just as you always have been,” promises Nimueh. “I’ll care for you no less, and you’ll care for me no less.” Ygraine raises her eyebrow in a way she must have picked up from Gaius. “Differently,” she concedes, “but no less.”
“So much is going to change.”
Nimueh leans into Ygraine’s shoulder. “Not this. Not us. I will be by your side, to advise you and Uther and to help you raise your children and to make Camelot great.”
Ygraine tilts Nimueh’s chin until they are face to face again. “You will be at my side, and you will advise us, but I will not have children.” Nimueh opens her mouth to object and Ygraine hushes her quickly. “I do not--Gaius will never say it, especially not in Uther’s hearing, and I don’t think you would either, but Alice looks at me as if … I will not have children, Nimueh. The fever, last year …”
“You will,” Nimueh starts.
Once again, she is hushed, and Ygraine looks back out over her city. After the bloody battles that led to a warlord preparing to take the throne, it is being rebuilt, even better than before. Uther has been working alongside his people, endearing himself to them as nothing else could. “I know that as a priestess you cannot wed, not really, but … Tristan would, I think. I would raise your child as my own, and you could see him whenever you wished …”
It takes Nimueh a moment to realize what Ygraine is asking of her. “I am honoured that you would consider it, but it will not be needed, Ygraine, I promise you. It will not come to it, but if it does …” She pauses, wonders if she should mention since the lady herself doesn’t yet realize, but perhaps it would comfort Ygraine. “If it comes to that, Lady Vivianne is with child.”
Ygraine’s smile twists. “It’s Uther’s. That would be fitting enough, then.”
Nimueh doesn’t ask how she knows, or for any more details. She respects Uther, even if she does not always like him, but the certainty in Ygraine’s voice makes her want to tear him limb from limb. “He would not dare put a bastard on the throne. Not when he’s claimed the throne through bloodshed and not birthright.”
“Always so ready to protect me.” The bitterness fades from her face, leaving only the softness that Nimueh has come to know well in the past five years since she came to Camelot. “Pity Gorlois, Nimueh, not me. Twice a father but neither is his. If Vivianne is wise she won’t let on this time, and won’t have another daughter sent away from her.”
“Little Morgause is safe with the priestesses, though. We watch over her. Her magic grows by leaps and bounds, from what I hear.” Nimueh sighs and pushes Ygraine’s hair out of her face. “I worry, though. I don’t wish to give you up to someone who will love you any less than I do.”
“He needs me. For now, that’s enough. It will become love, after a while.” Nimueh envies him for getting to fall in love with Ygraine as she has already done; for the first time he sees her riding with her hair caught in the sunlight; for the first time she smiles at him unfettered; for the first time she kisses him. Nimueh has had all this already and all to herself, and she remembers how giddy and sweet it was at first. Yes, she envies him his discovery that Ygraine is far more than the lady on a tapestry that she appears to be. But she cannot resent him--they always knew it would come to this, and he is worthy enough. At least she thought he was before she realized he would cuckold his best friend. Then again, Ygraine loves another as well.
“Perhaps you will suit each other well, then,” says Nimueh at last, trying not to let out her desperate jealousy. It must be like this.
Ygraine draws her into an embrace, and they stay like that for a while, until Ygraine pulls away just far enough to look her in the eyes. “You said it will not come to putting my husband’s bastard on the throne, or to me raising your child, though I would be glad to do it. You’re no Seer, Nimueh. How could you know?”
“The Druids, the Dragonlords, some of the priestesses … they speak of your son.” Ygraine’s eyes widen. “I will not know myself until I’ve been initiated and I learn the mysteries of destiny, but they speak of him.”
“Tell me.” They move to lean on the battlement, to look out over Camelot. She will miss this view, on the Isle. “Tell me about my son.” She can hear the tears caught in Ygraine’s throat. “Will he be worth losing you?”
Nimueh takes her hand. “You won’t lose me. But he’ll be wonderful, Ygraine. The greatest king Albion has ever seen or ever will see. A Golden Age for Camelot, but not just for Camelot. He will bring all of Albion under Pendragon’s banner. A kingdom too vast to imagine.”
“So he will be glorious. Will he be good?”
“We will make him so,” Nimueh promises. “Uther will teach him the sword, and you will teach him kindness, and Gaius will teach him wisdom, and I will teach him the Old Religion. He will be great, and he will not be alone either.”
“Not with us there to teach him.” Ygraine pats her stomach as if she can already feel the flutter of life there.
“He will have a companion as well. The Druids speak of him as well. The great sorcerer Emrys, with power enough to bind the land to his will.”
“I know no Emrys. Surely I would know the name of a sorcerer so powerful. You would have mentioned him.”
Nimueh laughs. “He is not yet born either. They will be companions, not teacher and student. We will search for him, after your son is born. Bring him so they will be brought up together, learn to love each other young. They will be companions just as we are.”
Ygraine smiles. “Just as we are?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. The Druids do not speak of that.” She can’t help a smile of her own. “At least not where a maiden priestess can hear them.”
Now Ygraine puts a careful hand over Nimueh’s womb, turning away from her beloved Camelot. “Will Emrys be your son? Is that why I am drawn so close to you, for the sake of our sons?”
Nimueh shrugs. “I don’t know. He could as easily be Vivianne’s child--then he and yours would truly be brothers. Or perhaps he’ll belong to Gaius and Alice. Or someone else, someone we don’t know. Tom the apprentice blacksmith’s son, I know he was recently married.” That coaxes a smile out of Ygraine. “It doesn’t matter if he’s mine or not. I will be here, for you and your son and for the boy Emrys when we find him.”
“And for Uther?”
“Uther will have my loyalty.” You will have my love, she does not add. She doesn’t need to. “We will make Camelot ready, and your son will make it great.”
Ygraine kisses her, lips cool and soft, and Nimueh lets herself cling, this last time. She hadn’t hoped for this, for anything more than a tearful goodbye with the moon above and Camelot below. It will make their dawn parting so much harder, but she is selfish enough not to care, if it means that she can take this with her. “I will love him as much as I can, but you must never leave me, Nimueh,” says Ygraine breathlessly when they part. “I could not bear to be without you.”
“You will never be without me. Just these months, and then never again if I can manage it.” She smooths her thumbs across Ygraine’s cheekbones. “I will always be at your side, just as I have been. Protecting you. I couldn’t bear to be without you either.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I should have let Tristan--”
“And start an endless war between Pendragon and DuBois? You were right to broker the peace, even if it hurts us.” She catches Ygraine’s hands in hers again. “Come inside. We can have this once more. They cannot deny us once more.”
Ygraine casts one more look out over the battlements, but she follows.
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