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#‘you always looked so small then’ leon tells him several centuries later
vi-visected · 1 year
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in my head after the events of camlann merlin returns to camelot and, still riddled with terrible guilt and grief, confesses to leon about everything that had happened and everything he had done, magic and all. and instead of outrage or betrayal or scorn or judgement (or even death, as he had briefly considered) leon shatters him with a deeply apologetic expression and a whispered “my friend… you must have been so afraid, and so tired.” and merlin collapses into heaving sobs against him and doesn’t get back up for a long time.
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writing-wanderer · 4 years
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The Crystalline Pond
There are times in life, Trianna has reflected upon over the years, that lead a person to who they are today. A choice, maybe. Or an act of fate. These are moments that are the beginnings of a causal effect. A ripple effect. A moment of decision, or dumb luck, or tragedy that is the pivotal cause of a series of choices. Trianna remembers hers. The moment everything changed. Yes, she still remembers it. Falling, that is. Water, warm and inviting, saturating her, making her weightless. She remembers the notable absence of panic, of feeling peaceful–tranquil. She remembers breaking through the surface of the water for the first time, and, rather than struggling to draw breath after a tumble that ought to have stolen the air from her lungs, at the very least, or killed her at the worst. She remembers pulling herself out of the–well, for lack of a better description, vernal pond. But that’s not exactly right either. A trickle of water made its way to the small body of water, crystal clear and beautiful. She supposes, thinking back, that it was a fountain, built by nature rather than man. But that wasn’t what drew her to this spot.
          It was the smell. Petrichor, she learned later. The smell of rain, pungent and refreshing, like the water itself. Rather than feeling drained by what would typically be a rather daunting experience for a child, she felt instead pleasantly calm. Refreshed, even. Though young, she knew that there was something off about this little pond. No animals swam in its waters. No murkiness from growing algae. Instead, the water was pure; untouched, even by the nature in which it resided.
Unnatural.
And yet, distinctly right. This pond belonged in this place; that was undeniable. Just as she did. That, too, was undeniable. No plants or animals resided there and yet there she was, her clothes sticking to her drenched skin from those clear waters. She had been sure footed. Cautious. Then her foot slid of its own accord. Not pushed, but not slipping either.
Chosen. She just hadn’t realized it yet.
          “Trianna, what happened?” The seven-year-old blinked in confusion up at her mother. “You’re soaking wet!” She glanced down and it was as though the spell had worn off, thrusting her back into the mundane.
          “Oh. Sorry, Mom. I fell into the pond outside.” Her mother glanced through the kitchen window, out at the unclaimed wilderness that lies beyond their neatly trimmed lawn, then back at her daughter as she bashfully watched the puddle beneath her feet widen.
          Brow creased with concern, but not wanting to scare her child, she said, “It’s…It’s alright, Sweetheart. As long as you’re not hurt.” She ushered the young girl further into the house, drawing her a bath. After being in the pond’s crystalline waters, she remembers, the sudsy water felt as though it chafed her skin.
Since that day, things had been…different. She was different. Suddenly, the tumbles of childhood left marks that lasted mere hours. Bruises that darken then yellow before she even noticed them coloring her skin. She had attributed it to a cosmic balance–something she’s still rarely able to maintain herself. Bumping into doorways, running into pieces of furniture of all kinds, stubbing toes on concrete. She figured that fateful tumble into the crystalline water was the same. Memories, after all, have a tendency to blur together or even become warped entirely. This, she told herself, to combat what she believed was nothing more than a childish fantasy, one that she remembered with vivid detail. Maybe she had stumbled into a spectacularly maintained fountain, she thought, she had to have slipped.
It was easy to deny, easy to pretend she had simply not bruised, that maybe she healed fast, that everything was normal. So she did. She thrust the memory from her mind and continued her days as usual. Another pivotal moment changed that, five years later, when she was twelve. She and her friend, Edwin, had been climbing the trees on the outskirts of her property, seeing who could climb the highest. Their friendship had been built on their rivalry, even over the most trivial things: who could run faster in gym (Edwin), who got the higher score on their quizzes (Trianna), who was able to draw the best (Edwin), who could read the fastest (Trianna)…and, now, who could climb the highest in the tree. She was determined to win, just to show Edwin that she wasn’t the scared or cautious one, that, yes, she was responsible, but never boring.
“I’m gonna beat you, Ashmore!” he called, from his place on a branch a few feet above her.
“Keep dreaming, Thomson!” she called back, pulling herself up onto the branch opposite his, then onto another. “I’m going to win!” Even though she knew better, she still looked out at the house and expanse of trees, hoping to see a small, clear pond…
“I doubt—” It was as though she was watching in slow motion. He had reached up to grab another branch when a loud cracking sound interrupted their playful banter.
“Edwin!” she had screamed, as he fell onto the unforgiving ground. Scrambling down the tree, she rushed over to him, calling, “Edwin! Edwin, are you alright?” He winced, cradling his wrist against his chest. “Can I see?” she asked, looking at his wrist. He studied her for a moment, then nodded hesitatingly. She gently held his hand, studying his wrist, as she tried to bend it.
“Does this feel okay?” she asked as goosebumps rose on his arm from her touch. He nodded and, when she glanced up to look at him, stifled a gasp as she watched the cut on his cheek smooth out, with the accompanying bruise yellowing until it, too, was gone.
“Are you okay?” he asked nervously. “Did something happen to my face? It feels kinda cold all of a sudden. Oh, man, my mom’s gonna kill me!”
“No, no,” she said quickly, “everything’s okay. I just…was scared, is all.”
“You’re always scared, Ashmore,” he said. “And I’m fine, see?” He bent his wrist back and forth. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore!” She rolled her eyes, though her thoughts were scrambling at this discovery.
“Let’s go inside and study for Ms. Graham’s quiz,” she suggested nervously.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he groaned. “Alright, let’s go. But only because, if I fail again, I’m grounded for a week!” They traipsed indoors and settled into the dining room with her textbook and lined paper. After snacks and attempts on Edwin’s part to avoid reading the textbook—“Why can’t you just tell me?”—she was able to finally open her laptop. After what felt like hours of searching, even after Edwin had went home, she finally found what she was looking for. The Fountain of Youth, searched for by several people looking to extend their own lives indefinitely, the most notable mention being Ponce de Leon, here in her home state of Florida.
Years turned to decades, then to centuries, all while she explored, with Edwin’s pestering and frequent healings—ahem, support and practice, what she could do with her abilities and apparent immortality. And why she’d gotten them in the first place. It was Edwin that had first made the connection, years ago, as they sat in a private study room in their local library discussing this very question.
“Listen to this,” Edwin had said, straightening, “and I’m paraphrasing here, but this article says Ponce de Leon wasn’t actually looking for your pond—”
“But—”
“—We know the truth that there actually is a pond, which he was probably looking for,
yes. But, anyway, this describes him as fame-seeking, greedy, and yadda yadda.”
          “Okay, so?” Trianna asked, frowning. The article didn’t seem to have much—if any—merit.
          “So, it got me thinking—”
          “That had to have hurt,” Trianna mutters.
          “Ignoring that. Listen, many of those who allegedly looked for the pond were explorers looking to restore their own youth, right?”
          “Right…”
          “What if you can heal because you weren’t looking for it?” Trianna opened her mouth to argue but Edwin continued nonetheless. “You said it drew you over, right? Why would it do that? Because you weren’t looking for it to make yourself healthy. You aren’t looking to be famous or only using your abilities on yourself—you use them to help people. That’s why it chose you!”
“…I suppose that could make sense,” Trianna admits hesitantly. “Good work, Thomson!
Now, would you help me research the restorative properties of the Fountain?”
Centuries had come and gone with Edwin by her side and, for the first time in as many years, with a clear sky, the scent of rain reached her nose, filled her lungs. Just as she did the first time, she followed it, more urgently this time, knowing what little she did about the fountain hidden away in the forest. The small body of water was just as beautiful as she remembered it, clear and unmarred by the nature surrounding it. It was smaller than it was before, almost more of a puddle than a pond. For a moment, she wondered if the years could have made it seem bigger than what it appeared when she was a child. She takes a step closer as realization sets in. A wide band of vegetation immediately surrounding the pond thrives, while the outer ring suffers from the recent string of low temperatures exceedingly unusual for Florida. The pond was shrinking; soon it would be gone. Soon, she’d be the only remnant of a pond with mystical properties, given these abilities to help others. Still, she wouldn’t be alone—Edwin would be there with her.
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