Disclaimer: Hallmarks Merlin does not belong to me, and neither do the characters. A violation of copy rights is not intended.
A/N: This is to be considered post-Merlin, and deals with the consequences of the end of the Old Ways. The story goes accordance to the movie, the only alternation is that Vortigern wasnt killed in battle, but sent into exile to the Faroese Islands. *cough* Further, I have no idea who became king after Arthur, so I simply decided it was Gawain. *shrugs*
I am probably messing with quite a chunk of British (and in later chapters with Nordic) history here, but hey, this is just a fanfic. Enjoy and have fun!
I realize that in the movie, quite a few years passed between Vortigerns death and the death of Arthur and Mordred. But anyways, I sent Vortigern into exile and further decided that only 5 years have gone by. Because I am queen when it comes to this story and I can do whatever the bloody hell I want. (Quote: Queeny from Blackadder)
English is not my first language, so please have mercy, I am trying my best.
Swirling black lilies
Somehow, he expected her to be gone as he returned to his chambers, the early morning sun illuminating the whole room.
And still, it stung him to find the bed empty.
He had left her at the crack of dawn while she still slept peacefully, her hair spread around her life a fan.
Why he had even gotten up he couldn't explain.
He had watched over her all night, making sure she rested as comfortably as possible, while his mind continuously worked.
But at a certain point he had simply stopped wondering. He knew that if she was willing to tell him, she would. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to draw a single word from her.
Vortigern sighed as he looked down onto the crumpled blankets and sheets. Yes, he had changed.
He had lost his kingdom, his power, his home. The day he had left Britain on a ship a strange chill had settled in his bones. It had taken him quite some time to find out that it was the feeling of defeat. That and, well, he was simply getting old. He hadn't been young when he had first met Mab, and nowhe was among the oldest on these islands.
This morning he had decided it was warm enough for a bath in one of the ponds near the small village, and the hair in the back of his neck was still wet. Lost in thoughts, he ran a hand through it, feeling the cool drops of water against the callused palms of his hand.
Her voice shook him out of his reverie, causing him to jump a little.
The window had been opened, what explained the floods of light in the chamber. She sat on the windowsill with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her skirts had been gathered up, exposing smooth, slender thighs and even more of that luscious skin of hers.
Why hadn't he seen her? She had been sitting only a few feet away, and he hadn't even noticed, he had only been staring at the bed in which she had spent the night.
Regaining his composure quickly, he walked over to her.
"Good morning." He replied, pulling a large chair up to sit down at her feet.
"You look better."
And indeed, she did.
She had always been pale, ghostly even, but the glow had returned to her skin. Her hair hung in loose waves around her face, giving the impression of silken snakes.
She didn't smile at him this time, her look serious and focused.
"Excuse me?" Vortigern raised an eyebrow.
"I know you have questions. Ask."
He took a deep breath, as if contemplating what do. The silence between them grew, but they held each others glance. Finally, he spoke.
"They said you were gone. What happened?"
He knew she had to have anticipated the question, but she hesitated before she answered, looking out the window. One could see the ocean from here.
"I was forgotten, so I ceased to exist."
When he realised that she was not going to continue, he leant forward and put an elbow on the large chairs arm rest.
"But you are here now. You are talking to me, I can see you, I can touch you. Whywhat happened?"
The silence hung between them like a heavy veil, but no one spoke. Vortigern refused to, he had formulated a clear, direct question. It was her turn to answer. Mab refused to, simply because she didnt know how to answer to him.
They sat there some time, simply holding each others gaze, and not for the first time Vortigern regretted that she had come into his life so late. No, he still didnt believe in the Old Ways, or whatever was left of it. Religion or spirituality had never been of importance to him, but still, he knew that together, they would have ruled Britain.
"Dont you think its unfairto vanish because people simply forget you? Mortals die, but even they are remembered by their loved ones, they live on in their memory and in their hearts, and therefore they are never completely gone. It is a form of immortality." She looked at Vortigern, but didnt expect him to say anything. He didnt. T"o forget someone is the cruellest thing one can dobecause that is what kills. That is true for mortals and for us." There was sadness in her eyesno, it was not sadness, it was something else. Was it anger? Or realism?
She unfolded her arms and stretched a shapely leg, placing her bare foot against his chest. Vortigerns eyes widened.
"But then again, men may live happily, even if no one ever wastes a single thought on them." She concluded.
His heart was beating so hard he was sure she could hear it, but he exerted himself to hold up his composure.
He wrapped his hands around her ankle and instep.
"You are wrong." He said, caressing her skin. "It would hurt me a great deal if youd forget me."
He let go of her to stand up and hold out a hand, helping her jump off the sill, even if he was perfectly aware of the fact that she didn't exactly need help for that.
As she stood in front of him, he hesitated a moment, still not sure if she was actually here, in these chambers, sunlight caught in her raven hair.
"It's good to have you here." he said, simply because it broke the silence between them and because it was the truth.
The kiss was soft and slow, so unorthodox for both of them, but they didnt mind. He stepped back without breaking the kiss, pulling her with him. He slowly sat down in the chair again, making her sit in his lap like a little child. He remembered the time she had visited him in his tent, telling him that Uther was going to attack.
Wrapping one arm around her midriff to caress the bare skin of her back, he buried the other one in her hair and deepened the kiss. She responded in kind and ran her fingernails down his chest before she parted her lips.
Breathlessly he broke the kiss for a moment, resting his forehead against hers. After a moment of silence, he opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her finger against his lips.
"Shhhh, not now."
She tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the floor. Her hands were on his chest, gliding over muscles and scars. His skin was rough and soft at the same time, and she certainly seemed to enjoy touching him.
They kissed again, if only briefly.
Slowly, his hand glided over her knee, over her thigh and further back.
She sighed, then slid off the chair and knelt on the floor in front of him. She didnt exactly seem to be in a hurry, and her soft touches were his pure agony, but complaining about it was far from his mind.
He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, leaving the situation in her hands. They weren't fighting anymore- not the Christians, not each other, so he didn't mind surrendering to the fairy that knelt before him.
He buried a hand in the dark masses of her hair, and for the first time in ages, he felt himself relax. Maybe life had treated him kinder than he had thought at first.
He suppressed a moan, and the muscles on his stomach tensed. He clenched his fists and slightly pulled her hair. Sensing he was close, Mab brushed a hand over his chest and stomach, trying to calm him with her touch.
"Please" he whispered, unable to open his eyes, blood rushing through his veins. His fists were clutched so tightly his tendons were emerging clearly.
When he knew he couldn't hold himself back any longer, he leant forward and grabbed her arms, pulling her back onto his lap. She pushed her skirts up a bit and he felt the naked skin of her thighs brushing against his.
His fingers shook as he untied the laces of her shirt, forcing himself to keep his patience. With her help, the garment soon was lying on the floor next to his clothes.
"I want to look at you." He declared, causing her to smile.
"If you wish." She sat up straight, exposing herself fully to his gaze.
Wordlessly, he raised a hand and placed his fingertips at the centre of her collar bone, just below the hollow of her throat.
Slowly, he trailed down, only the tips of his fingers touching her skin. She shivered delightfully, and he smiled, but stopped abruptly as he had reached the valley between her breasts. His hand rested below her heart, and he realised that the difference between them couldnt be greater.
The skin on his hands looked lined and weathered, while hers was like nacre.
A dark shadow crossed his face, but his eyes widened as she closed both her hands around his.
"What is wrong?" she asked, but he only shook her head.
She let go of his hands and shifted slightly, allowing him to slide into her. His moan was echoed by a loud sigh from her throat.
His hands roamed her body as she started to move her hips in long, warm waves.
His lips brushed against her nipples, making her gasp. They were moving together, just like they had been the last time, only that now, they had nothing left to lose.
Sweat glistering on his chest, he held her close, his hand slowly moving down her back, while she buried her own hands in his hair, caressing his face and brushing her fingers over his lips.
A soft cry escaped her lips as she reached the climax of her lust, holding onto him as if her life depended on it, scratching her nails down his shoulder.
He waited until she had calmed before he grabbed her and stood up, pressing her against the nearest wall effortlessly.
Her legs coiled around his waist, and within a few trusts, he followed her over the edge, burying his face in her hair.
The remained standing in that position, leaning against the wall, Vortigern supporting her whole weight, refusing to leave her body just yet. She hid her face against his shoulder, her arms locked around his neck.
She was tying the laces of her shirt as suddenly a question came to his mind.
"You still have your powers, dont you?" he asked, his curiosity sparked.
"How else would I have been able to appear in your chambers in the middle of the night if I didnt have my powers?" she asked, and ran a hand through her hair.
"True. and what about the immortality?"
This time, she smiled.
"We can put that to a test."
Walking over to a large wooden table, she picked one of Vortigerns daggers, holding it up to him as if asking for permission to use it.
He shrugged, unsure about what she was going to do.
Lifting her arm, she pulled her sleeve back, exposing soft, pale skin.
Suddenly realizing what she had in mind, his eyes widened.
"No, dont..." He called, and ran over to her, but it was too late.
She pulled the dagger across her flesh, opening the skin and causing a thick line of ruby red blood to appear.
She dropped the dagger as he grabbed her arm, ready to shout at her for injuring herself, as suddenly the skin on her lower arm closed again, the blood completely disappearing.
Not even the faintest scratch was to be seen, just perfect, pearly skin.
"See? Good as new."
Thanks for reading, and please review!!