The moon is full as the girl dashes her way up the hill. Her feet have carried her here so many times these past two years, but tonight her eyes are bright with tears rather than joy. The man waiting for her beneath the tree at the top watches her progress with interest; he flips back the hood of his cloak with a careless finger and smiles as she flings herself to the ground in front of him, her nails raking at the grass and dirt beneath them. ]
I was waiting for you. I knew you'd have something to say to me.
[ The things she wants to say are nearly choking her as they claw their way up from her throat, but what wins is: ]
Why did you trick me?!
I didn't trick you. I just didn't tell you.
How is that any different?!
[ It isn't, and he knows it isn't. But he looks at her with indulgence, as if she's the unreasonable one, and reaches out to caress her face. ] It's fine, Psyche. Nothing has changed— [ It is not fine. Everything has changed. For the first time since she's known him she bats his hand away from her. He is not entitled to console her for this choice he made himself, that he sprung on her like a trap. ]
But it has! Because of you, I... because of you, your highness, I've lied to Lady Medea. [ A misstep. She knows it instantly as the smile slips from his face; he's never liked their friendship. When he speaks again, it's cool and level, an adult scolding a child out of a tantrum. ]
You should be happy that your lover turned out to be the crown prince. What's with that attitude? Are you going to pretend that you don't know me now? [ His voice goes softer, more intimate. The coaxing voice he uses to whisper sweet things in her ear. ] I can play along… but remember the basement.
[ She does. No part of her can ever forget the basement. Her whole body freezes as a terror too old to be reasoned with sweeps through her, leaving her shivering and wordless. She can't draw breath to answer. The right move, this time. His expression gentles into a smile again. ]
You said that I was the one who saved you from that hell. Come here, Psyche. [ Does she obey? Or is it simply that her body collapses into his arms, a puppet with the strings cut? It doesn't matter. This time, either would be right. That smile presses against against her hair as he rewards her with a soft kiss to the top of the head. ] Good. Look at you. How could you go on living without me?
[ He's right. She knows he's right. Without him, all she's ever had is darkness. A god that does not answer. She can't go back, and so she holds on desperately, hiding her face against his chest. She can't go back, but how does she go on from here?
There is darkness in all directions. From one side wafts the acrid scent of disinfectant and from the other, the iron tang of blood. Which way, Magus of Flowers? ]
Merlin - whole man disposal (cw: emotional abuse, manipulation)
The moon is full as the girl dashes her way up the hill. Her feet have carried her here so many times these past two years, but tonight her eyes are bright with tears rather than joy. The man waiting for her beneath the tree at the top watches her progress with interest; he flips back the hood of his cloak with a careless finger and smiles as she flings herself to the ground in front of him, her nails raking at the grass and dirt beneath them. ]
I was waiting for you. I knew you'd have something to say to me.
[ The things she wants to say are nearly choking her as they claw their way up from her throat, but what wins is: ]
Why did you trick me?!
I didn't trick you. I just didn't tell you.
How is that any different?!
[ It isn't, and he knows it isn't. But he looks at her with indulgence, as if she's the unreasonable one, and reaches out to caress her face. ] It's fine, Psyche. Nothing has changed— [ It is not fine. Everything has changed. For the first time since she's known him she bats his hand away from her. He is not entitled to console her for this choice he made himself, that he sprung on her like a trap. ]
But it has! Because of you, I... because of you, your highness, I've lied to Lady Medea. [ A misstep. She knows it instantly as the smile slips from his face; he's never liked their friendship. When he speaks again, it's cool and level, an adult scolding a child out of a tantrum. ]
You should be happy that your lover turned out to be the crown prince. What's with that attitude? Are you going to pretend that you don't know me now? [ His voice goes softer, more intimate. The coaxing voice he uses to whisper sweet things in her ear. ] I can play along… but remember the basement.
[ She does. No part of her can ever forget the basement. Her whole body freezes as a terror too old to be reasoned with sweeps through her, leaving her shivering and wordless. She can't draw breath to answer. The right move, this time. His expression gentles into a smile again. ]
You said that I was the one who saved you from that hell. Come here, Psyche. [ Does she obey? Or is it simply that her body collapses into his arms, a puppet with the strings cut? It doesn't matter. This time, either would be right. That smile presses against against her hair as he rewards her with a soft kiss to the top of the head. ] Good. Look at you. How could you go on living without me?
[ He's right. She knows he's right. Without him, all she's ever had is darkness. A god that does not answer. She can't go back, and so she holds on desperately, hiding her face against his chest. She can't go back, but how does she go on from here?
There is darkness in all directions. From one side wafts the acrid scent of disinfectant and from the other, the iron tang of blood. Which way, Magus of Flowers? ]