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j_gabrielle) wrote2010-08-03 01:02 am
FIC: Movement
Title: Movement
Series: Running Away (2/5)
Rating: G
Pairing: Merthur
Genre: Reincarnation, Future, Angst
Disclaimer: Do you think if I'd owned any of this I would be writing fanfiction? No? Well, there you have it. I own nothing but the plot and the clothes on my back.
Summary: Life goes on while you wait for him. You know how this story ends, know that it's all for the greater good. But some part of you wants just a slice of normality this time round. Comments are always appreciated <3 2nd part up!
The world moves at a rapid pace, stopping for nothing and no one. Not even you. Days seem to bleed into each other. One day you are the greatest warlock known to men, another day you’re a soldier in the trenches, then another you are reading Literature in Cambridge.
But you never age. Not since the day he died.
It scares you sometimes. When you wake up and see the unchanging reflection in the mirror. The horror of the fact that you will always look the same. You can feel it in the air. The scent and sense of magic. Real magic, the powers of the Old Religion and not those pathetic gestures and mumbo jumbos they pass off as magic. And damnit! You want to hope it’s for real this time. It’s not the first time. There have been others; 1940’s at the height of the world turmoil, 1970’s at what seemed like the return of the Old Religion practices.
Gwen whacks you over the head. “Pay attention.” She seethes. You narrow your eyes at her. You wish she was sweet, docile Gwen again. The Gwen you knew. This Gwen is two skin shades lighter, smokes two packs of lights every week, has large ringed curls instead of small bouncy ones and talks with a slightly polished clip to the ends of her words. But she’s Gwen. Gwen when you need a hand to hold, Gwen when you need someone to talk to. You see it in her eyes sometimes; the sense of not really belonging, the glimpses of something better, the recognition that flickers away the next moment afterwards. You know she doesn’t truly remember being Gwen, Queen Gwen of Camelot. To her it must seem like a distant dream from her childhood.
The only one you can truly say remembers is Morgana. Morgana who has been born again 3 times now. And each time she comes back, it’s you she seeks. Each time, she is born with her gift. These days she is a mother. Something she never truly got to be. You both somehow adopt each other this time around. It’s not hard considering you’ve both always somewhat looked like each other. Her little boy, Brian calls you Onkle Merly and charms sweets out of you every Sunday when you come by for lunch. She’s happy. You can tell. She’s no longer the Lady Morgana of Camelot. Her happiness shines through in her son.
It’s like an oncoming storm. You feel it in your bones like you feel the subtle changes of the weather. You can feel something brewing in the air. And with Lancelot smiling at you when you kick the ball back to him and his friends, Gwen furrowing her brows at his direction and Gaius rattling a list of things to you over the phone, you want it to happen.
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