letheishere

[letheishere]

kvthm merlin au where kaveh is merlin and alhaitham is arthur andnajdnjajd

mAgIc

[letheishere]

Drawfree fanfic

Bc the Sir Wilfred was so funny to me. Creative liberty was used; meaning there's magic womp womp. Also he is leaving bc I got that scorn feeling

Cloudy, raining, dark sky. It was the only thing that came to mind to Sir. Wilfred.

Or, he mentally corrects, Wilfred. Doggington didn’t need his protection anymore. His iron sword was useless to them, a blade covered with the sins of all their misdeeds. After all, it’s easier to ignore faults than take accountability for them.

Wilfred couldn’t let that go. Exiled from his home, he looks over at the tall peaks of the castle, the dark sky illuminated a deep red, the color of the blood that covers his soul. He knows he can’t go back, but how desperately he is to see the markets, the stalls of clothes and fabrics, the ladies gossiping near the fountains, the kids playing with wooden swords near the training grounds.

His princess standing tall on the highest peak, flowing golden fur sparkling and turning her from just a dog to something beyond. Ethereal. 

Alas, scoured from his home he turns away. With armour heavy on his shoulders he must move on. No longer is he needed. No longer do they need swords and duty when they have magic and new snake-like partnerships. 

He was just doing his job. The cold blooded creatures are filled with filth, a malice. They aren’t meant to be trusted. Their fire dances, plays of witchcraft, cauldrons of green poison is all a ruse to trick the queen and king. And how easily those fools were to be tricked by the hissing from those foul-fanged mouths. Snakes.

How did they trust a lowly snake over the head guard? He knew what he saw. He knew that She pulled that child from their home. Dripping that foul green liquid into their eyes. He saw Her crazed grin on those scaly lips, fangs dripping. Long, tendril like tongue sweeping across the child’s face, tasting the salty tears. Wilfred did his job of protecting. Diplomat or not, She deserved the sword stabbed into her chest.

Her blood felt like tar sliding onto his white fur. 

The child pleaded for help. Screaming I can’t see! Someone, please help! I can’t see!

He helped. The child pleaded for him, her small paws clinging onto his leg. Her ears perked up when the queen demanded his side. Wilfred gave his piece. Saying what he saw.

The snakes didn’t enjoy that. Now that someone knew of their nature, they pleaded him crazy. 

He’s rabid!

He must be dealt with!

She was harmless! A little garter snake!

How could she have venom?

Wilfred was hounded for months. More crimes happening all across the kingdom. Each time, he was at the scene, sword deep in scales. Stopping. Protecting.

He kills only snakes! He hates us, my queen! You must exile him!

But the people are dying, your highness. Do you choose this partnership that’ll lead to thousands of dogs dying, your subjects toys to the snakes? All for what, the luxury of having fire indoors; being protected by magic?

All he remembers was the red of his fury. The golden fur he once found beautiful now sending him to exile. The princess was tired of the fighting. She made him leave. Sent him away. 

Kill the dragon of the North.

Everyone knows such a dragon doesn’t exist. That the North is a hopeless hellscape of billowing white and tundra.

Not quite an exile, but a promise that he isn’t to return. He will never find a home in Doggington again.

Wilfred takes one more glance over at the blood-red city, castle peaks glowing an orange. He pretends he can still see the glowing halo of her majesty, the Princess standing tall as she always has.

Letting her people die as she always has.

Finally, he turns back once more. No longer conflicted, he walks to start his new journey in life. His sword in hand, armour shined, he must continue on.

Doggington doesn’t want him, so he will not need them.