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ballorawan740 · 3 years

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SCP Scenarios: SCP 1678 (Unlondon) x Reader (REQUESTED)

Source: Photo

Requested by: @lilithisfurry

Ok, so I've done it!!! 😃

Before any of you say a thing, I know that there are 2 humanoid 1678s which are 1678-A (Bobbies/Policeman) and 1678-C (Wretch) and an avian type one (1678-B)

The one I'll be using is 1678-A (Policeman) because it takes too much time to write 3 versions of this SCP (But I might consider writing the other 2, but it's highly unlikely)

First Encounter

When you first met this humanoid, you were sent into SCP 1678 for some test

The police humanoid emitted a loud whistle as the speakers screamed ‘‘Police! Halt, criminal!’’

A couple of others who were with you attempted to shoot them with their guns but were quickly shown to be resistant

Luckily for them, they managed to plant some explosives which caused damage

The other 1678-As went in and attacked them which wasn't unusual because of their hostile nature

However, for you, one of them managed to capture you and ran

For some reason, it showed some interest towards you and warded off the other SCP 1678-As off from you

They seemed to understand that you were "marked" and left you alone

That particular 1678-A managed to get you out from harm and back to your foundation

The foundation staff did wonder what had happened and you told them everything with proof since you were wearing a bodycam

They've soon noticed that this particular policeman was softer towards you as you bandaged up its broken arm

Your feelings for him

After the incident, you were sent back down into 1678 for further research and you bumped back into the sane 1678-A

You only remembered that it was him because of its gesture and its unusual markings which distinguished him from the others

Somehow, you both were able to communicate with each other

The researchers realised that they seemed to understand human speech, mainly English, however, they seemed to understand other forms of European languages as well

Moreover, this particular Bobby also understood sign language and used it to his advantage to communicate with you, displaying some fondness for you

The researchers were reluctant to let you carry on with this test as they've noticed that you've reciprocated the same gesture

Let's just say that the researchers and the other Bobbies agreed to the fact that it was strange for you and that special policeman to be dating

His Confession

Over time, as you both became closer, he worked up the courage to sign to you that he cares a lot about you

And you've found that rather cute and returned the gesture

Which then made you both a rather unique type of couple

The other 1678-As were concerned and curious about this new relationship and so was the Foundation

The researchers had decided to borrow your newfound partner and took him to his new room (No, you've basically kidnapped him)

Needless to say, the other Bobbies were somewhat furious while others were glad that he's gone since he betrayed them for not killing you

Your new partner was somewhat homesick, so you've decided to paint some victorian style art for his cell

Date

From time to time, you both were shoved back into 1678 which just so happens to be the main place for you both to date

Some of his friends were relieved to see him and some would even offer you a hug

You obviously returned the gesture for being so flattering and because your man could finally get laid (NGL yall still be touch starved to the point you'd even date strange beings and objects)

Dates with this Bobby would be rather interesting

Like, he'd hold hands, but probably wouldn't start it during the beginning of the relationship because he's just shy (Just like everybody else here)

Since his face is all bandaged up, you wouldn't really be having many kisses

But he'll make it up with hugs instead

His fellow friends would probably enjoy bothering the both of you while you're there and would pull pranks on you both

If you both were in the foundation, you'd be chilling in his cell and talking bout your experiences in life (Not like you'd have much to say, get back to studying/work)

The researchers may poke fun of you both but would generally leave you both alone

When he gets jealous

Now, depending on who he's jealous of, he would react differently

If it was another fellow 1678-A, he would be slightly hostile and assert his dominance over the others

However, if it was a member of the foundation or anyone else that's not 1678-A for that matter, he'd be even more aggressive and would probably try and kill them

Unless you manage to stop him then it's fine

This Bobby would be slightly possessive because you're the only other person who genuinely cares about him other than his 1678 friends/family

If he sees you having a friendly chat with another person/SCP, he would wrap an arm around you just so the other person knows you're taken

I think over time he learns some boundaries so even if he is aggressive, he wouldn't just automatically send the dude you're with to hell

Unless that person is a crappy person then good for them

Yandere!1678-A

This yandere right here would literally kidnap you and take you back into 1678

He'd make sure that you would never find a way back into the foundation which does concern the researchers, so they send a group of D-classes and MTFs to find you

If he was feeling nice, he would let you wander around 1678 but he would most likely be next to or near you at all times

If he was having a bad day, he would tie you up in a random building and made sure that nobody can get in or out

Would most likely be even more hostile to everybody else around you

If you haven't behaved, he'd probs use something sharp to inflict pain on you

If you managed to behave, then he loosens the ropes around your arms, legs and neck

Probs would feed you tiny doses of 1678-D but only a bit because he's aware of how that affects the bodies of ordinary humans

Their younger sister

You and the other 1678-As would literally be families at this point or friends with the ones who are lurking away from the main area of 1678

And since you were rather new, you were treated as the younger one (That's also because you're the youngest one)

Would probably protect you from everything

You would be spoilt to death and wouldn't have to hurt a fly

One of the policemen would get you a 1678-B as your personal pet

And it's rather fond of you so it basically follows you around

Would most likely intimidate your dates if you have one

Even more so if they're a human/SCP from the Foundation

If it was another member of 1678 then they're more chill

However, if you were dating 1678-C, they'd be quite reluctant for you to be in a relationship with her but would let you anyways

When their kids say their name for the first time

Would 100% be crying internally and shocked

Like, it happened out of the blue since you both were just relaxing

Word would spread across the whole of 1678 because of this

And not because you both were a unique pairing in the first place

1678-A would try to teach your child some sign language in contrast to you who would teach them to communicate verbally

Most likely try and teach the kid to defend themselves and probably attack others

But you wouldn't let him because they were too young (Just like you lot!!! Shouldn't y'all be studying in primary or high/secondary schools?)

The other 1678s would literally yeet their way to meet the kid just so they can teach your child to say more words

And to swear of course

When his S/O is angry

Oh dear

If the foundation doesn't know any better, they'd just assume that all the Bobbies were the aggressive ones

And oh boy were they wrong

You were the one who needs a chill pill

Basically, some guy tried to hit on you and wouldn't stop

So you just casually gave him a taste in his own medicine

Which were a punch in the face and a kick in the nuts (Kids, don't do this to a guy unless he really deserves it)

He somehow got back up and carried on harassing you

Your man was just strolling around the park until he saw the commotion

He had to literally hold you back and made the guy run for his life

Which was a shocker since it's usually the other way around

And of course, everybody inside 1678 heard about the news and cheered on for you while others just ran since they didn't wanna have the first-hand experience with your anger issue

When someone tries to steal you away

Oh this man right here would gather all his police friends as well as the birds to hunt down whoever stole you away

He would be furious to the core and rightfully so

The foundation was informed of this and they didn't blame this SCP

And that's because the person who stole you was from the Chaos Insurgency

Both GOIs hated each other's guts so the foundation just kinda let 1678-A hunt down the guy

And he did along with the MTFs

But was met with you standing over the guy's dead body

Then everybody realised that your man taught you how to protect yourself

And you did it so perfectly that even 1678 was intimidated af

Nobody wanted to mess with you and your partner was relieved that he taught you self defence

When his pregnant!S/O gets hurt by accident

This particular 1678-A that just so happens to be your partner, is rather shy and introverted

Nad although he does his 'job' well, he would rather just stay away from any contact

Until he met you and you became pregnant

This 1678-A would be slightly more protective but would let you have some space

And because of this, you managed to give yourself a papercut

Which was met with a furious policeman

But was cooled down when you explained your injury to him

He was giving you a huge lecture about your safety and how not to get hurt because you're carrying his baby

Wouldn't leave you alone ever again

Even if that means he would have to sit by the corner at all times

Would send his mates to come over to check on you if he wasn't there

Meeting a dragon hybrid child fem!reader

Definitely would be curious about you since they mostly interact with Foundation staffs

Probably would try to attack you but instead got burnt

1678-A would definitely notice your strange appearance and that you cry lava

Would feel bad so he'd try and comfort you

This then leads to you both being rather attached to each other

This particular 1678-A would have to bribe the others to keep you

The foundation realising this would happen

Probably would let you stay there for research purposes

They would most likely help level up your telekineses

Treats you like their own child and would be extremely protective

Most likely would have a heart attack every time you show kindness towards foundation members instead of attacking them

Every time you're in danger, the ones attacking you would soon realise that they've screwed up

Because the SCPs can hear you cry which would summon a whole bunch of them

When he accidentally kills you

He was basically chilling with you until some MTF members arrived to take some samples for testing

They were attacked by the other 1678-As and retaliated

This chill guy would lead you to safety before attacking the remaining MTFs

You realising what has happened decided to try and help out

You noticed that one of the MTF members were about to shoot your guy and managed to throw the gun out of his hand

1678-A notices and tries to attack the member but instead killed you

The remaining MTF members flee as he mourns your death

He would be even more vengeful and aggressive to the foundation members

Which does scare off the other Bobbies

Stayed in one of the abandoned houses to cry alone

Yandere!1678 - A x Evil!Reader

I'd say aside from his yandere self and the fact that he's only more aggressive to everyone else aside from you and giving you some scars, he's pretty dense and thicc in the brain

Probably wouldn't notice that you were working on them for a project in the GOC

You were able to get away with a lot of things because of your small stature and innocent appearance

Definitely managed to fool this yandere!1678-A because of your appearance

You could be just as vicious when you want to be

Yandere!1678-A soon realises that you were just using him for some experiment and were angered to the point of no return

Would most likely try and hunt you down

But since you've already got enough information about this SCP, you were able to devise a plan to leave

Manages to catch up to you but you were fortunate enough to know enough self-defence tactics to ward him off

You never came back to him and he was depressed for all of eternity

Trying McDonald's Sprite

You were requested to bring some ordinary food to 1678 as a test

And you've decided that you wanted to bring some Sprite with some Apple pie, mozzarella dippers and pancakes (They're my soul food from Mackies ok? Don't judge)

When you arrived in 1678, that one particular policeman who is attached to you for some odd reason was curious about the food

Of course, he would need to take off the bandage on his head to taste the food but not before some bribery from you

He reminisced about the food since he loved eating them before he turned into 1678-A

Sprite, however, was slightly different

He never tried them and was surprised with how good they tasted

Most likely would ask you to get more for him though

Foundation staff would be rather conflicted but allowed you to reward him with Sprite and some food

Only whenever he behaved well though

When his kid swears at him

You should've seen the look on his face (oh the irony)

You both taught your kid verbal and non-verbal communications with some common sentences people would say

But never have either of you taught your kid how to swear

Kinda just happened and 1678-A was about to go into cardiac arrest (Pun intended)

Would hunt down whoever taught them that depending on the severity

Like if the kid was using a ton of swearing in a sentence and was directing it to either of you, 1678-A would kill the guy

You were more of a chill type of parent

But would recommend the kid to stop swearing sine it's rude

Most likely wound ground the kind for a week tbh

When the reader scares him (Child!Reader)

Well, let's just say you managed to make the policeman play hide and seek with you

And you were the one hiding since you secretly knew that you were a professional at it

So you made 1678-A to find you

And although he's pretty good at catching his victims, he couldn't find you (Cuz y'all be so short)

Like he was literally in front of you and he still couldn't see you and you even giggled

So you've decided to jump on him

And oh boy was he about to scream out for help

But luckily he didn't cuz the others would whoop yo ass

Probably wouldn't give you a lecture but would need a while for his precious heart to not go yeetus the fetus

He would probably yeet you though tbf

When the reader pole dances/aerial silk dance

1678-A probably would have some ideas on what pole dancing is

Maybe not as much with the term aerial silk dancing but would soon understand when he sees you dancing

Probably thinks that you're trying to fondue with him if you're pole dancing

Definitely would be in awe when he sees you dance with the aerial silks

Would have a difficult time mimicking you if he ever wants you to teach him

Has definitely fallen 1000 times while pole dancing and broke his arms while dancing 10 ft off the ground

If the others inside 1678 see you dancing, he'd be in a blushing mess, especially if you were dancing to certain kinds of songs

Would most likely tell you to dance for him privately so there's no peeking

Having a Pregnant!S/O

Would most definitely be on the guard more since you're carrying his child

1678-A would most likely follow you around like a well trained and clingy German Shepard

You'd most likely have to tell him to tone it down because you're pregnant, not some delicate flower

Would most likely do whatever you tell him to do, even if it means hurting himself as long as you're safe and sound

Definitely would make sure that another 1678 would be around you at all times when he's away from you

1678-A would occasionally rub your stomach and sing victorian era songs

Sometimes he would bring you some of your favourite foods

When you try to commit suicide

When he hears the news he was devastated

He literally ran 69 miles just to see you

Would give you a big boi lecture about doing that

Nearly had his heart jump out of his body

Would constantly follow you everywhere after this

He's basically your bodyguard at this point

Would bandage up your wounds

Makes sure that you're fed well and all and would give you random gifts out of the blue

Would most likely ask the other Bobbies to care for you if he's not there and would even give you 1678-B

Asks the Wretches to keep a lookout to make sure nobody hurts you

Having a hopelessly romantic/easily flustered GN!Reader

This particular Bobby would most likely be just as easily flustered and hopelessly romantic as you

I'd imagine him trying to make the first move and you both being in a blushing mess

You both would exchange little gifts every now and again

Everyone else just teases and ships you both

You both loving each other unconditionally and constantly worrying about each other when you're both away from each other

This Bobby would definitely protect you from the MTFs and/or D-classes from attacking you

You would make a deal with the foundation to keep your guy safe and sound

The foundation witnessing how lovey-dovey you both are and just dies of cringe and sweetness overload (but not as sweet as out 999)

#scp #scp scenarios #scp x reader #scp headcanons #scp x reader headcanons #scp x reader scenarios #scp 1678 #scp 1678 headcanon #scp 1678 scenarios #scp 1678 x reader #scp 1678 x reader scenarios #scp 1678 x reader headcanon

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emachinescat · 3 years

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The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days. I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

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thefreelanceangel · 3 years

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Shadowbringers Is Finally Ended

With Patch 5.55 and the official end of the Shadowbringers story, setting up now for Endwalker in November, there are now a few months ahead to grind gear, finish content and reflect on the most recent expansion.

And, without any hyperbole, I can say definitively that I have never in my life been as impressed with a game's writing as I have that of Shadowbringers, both the original expansion and a lot of the patch content. I have... thoughts.

I'm a bit of an outlier; I skipped Stormblood (oops) and went straight from completing Heavensward (which greatly impressed me at the time and still does) into Shadowbringers because I wanted to get a max level character already.

Within the first few cutscenes of Shadowbringers, I was absolutely hooked.

First, let me just say that "monstrous angels" is 100% My Thing. I ADORE the reinterpretation of the standard "Renaissance art angelic figures" into something closer to incomprehensible beings taking on twisted, terrifying appearances. The human mind is a finite thing and comprehending an angel would be as difficult as comprehending infinity; these are things so alien to our experience that assuming they'd be easy to grasp and familiar feels disingenuous to me.

So the sin-eaters and the Lightwardens? SLAP.

Also, the intent behind the usage of "Light" in Shadowbringers was deliberate and purposeful. Our Lord and Savior, Yoshi-P, stated this clearly in his Forbes interview.

"The inception of this idea was very simple: in recent fantasy works, the perception that light equates to good and dark equates to evil is very set in stone, we wanted to shake this up a bit.

"Until this point in Final Fantasy XIV, our players have been Warriors of Light: the hero. However, with Shadowbringers, we leave the Source and embark on a journey to the First, and through this I want our players to discover the truth of the world, as well as think about the real nature of light and dark. That is the theme of Shadowbringers.

"In any case, a light too strong could potentially become evil. Darkness and night are also necessary for the world to maintain its balance; that's the kind of theme we will be shedding light on."

And the themes in Shadowbringers had such an amazing resonance that they were both painfully clear and masterfully executed. Not only was the theme of "balance" clearly executed in the "returning Darkness to a world flooded by Light" goal, but the desire for players to "think about the real nature of light and dark" showed in a multitude of ways.

The Warriors of Light (who we met as the Warriors of Darkness in Heavensward) are, in their home world, reviled. They directly caused the Flood which nearly destroyed their home and although they were able to save it with personal sacrifice, the populace at large is unaware of that sacrifice. The motives behind what the Warriors did is essentially lost to history; all that remains is the perception of their actions and the results thereof.

Motives, however, which you (player and WoL) are privy to.

"At long last, you see. To save our world, we gave our lives. We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there—we never aspired to be Warriors of Light. But word of our deeds spread, and soon people were calling us heroes. They placed their hopes and dreams on our shoulders and bid us fight for all that was good and right. We fought and we fought and we fought...until there was no one left to fight. We won...and now our world is being erased from existence. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this! You of all people should understand! We cannot—we will not falter. We brought our world to the brink of destruction, and now we must save it."

You had that fight with the Warriors of Darkness. You heard Ardbert explain exactly what happened, how they came to the point where they faced off against you, and you saw what happened when they were given the choice to hold back the Flood. And you were there when the one favor Ardbert asked was for the Warriors of Darkness to be taken home.

You see how the First remembers them and it's stark contrast to the heroes you met who were fighting desperately to save people who now spit on their names. History quite clearly has two sides and which you believe is dependent entirely on what information you have.

This becomes even more of a clear theme when you meet Emet-Selch and learn more about the Calamity which led to the entire Zodiark/Hydaelyn duality. Here, your previous experiences with Ascians has painted them solely as "villains." They are established enemies, manipulating events and people in order to attain goals which, to you, are nothing but Calamities.

And yet, as you learn more about the original Source and the Amaurotines that once lived on it, these goals are painted in an entirely new light. Instead of merely seeking to wipe out "the world" for no apparent reason or, at best guess, greater power for their deity Zodiark, the Ascians were striving to repair the damage done by the original Sundering. They, in a manner of speaking, were doing what the Warriors of Darkness were. What you, the Warrior of Light, have been doing. They were trying to restore what was lost.

Which leads into another of Shadowbringers' major themes: grief and loss.

The earliest touches of this are in Alisaie's questlines where you learn about what happens to people tainted by the Light. Families are destroyed, people are transmuted into sin-eaters and those who avoid that fate must stand by and watch as their loved ones fall to something far worse than death. "A Purchase of Fruit" shows you exactly what the end result is while also highlighting something very specific: with no hope of removing the Light's taint, knowing that all that awaits the tainted is a painful transmutation and existence as a sin-eater, those untainted make the best they can of those last days and end the tainted individual's pain before it begins.

Grief, yes. Loss? Absolutely. And yet, this is a loving, compassionate thing that those in Amh Araeng are doing. They face their own grief and loss. Rather than refusing to accept the actuality of their circumstances or refuse to weigh themselves down with taking a decisive action, they make the choice to face their grief and loss directly, even willingly taking on the guilt of their actions rather than leaving the tainted to suffer.

Magnus in Twine lost his wife and son, which immobilizes him. He can't find solance in anything save alcohol and brooding over their graves. It takes outside interference to pull him directly from his grief, to help him see past the loss of his family and look towards the future where life might once again be worth living. His struggle with grief is painfully familiar and so very, very close to many real life struggles that it's extremely poignant.

This struggle with grief is the fight the Ascians are, without question, losing. Let's set aside the "tempering" argument when it comes to Emet-Selch and Elidibus for the moment, largely because it's actually quite true that grief can spur people into committing horrific acts either as a desperate attempt to assuage their own pain (revenge) or make 'things right' in some way (vengeance).

Emet-Selch does not, in fact, properly grieve for Amaurot and the Ancients he knew. He clings to them, as Hythlodaeus tells us, weighed down by an aching sense of loss.

"And though he may carry himself with a certain glib ease, Emet-Selch is not a man to bear his burdens lightly. In fact, I imagine they have only grown heavier with every passing century. ...T'is truly a terrible weight he has chosen to carry."

Quite significantly is the word "chosen" in that. Grief is a process that involves, eventually, letting go of the pain and living with the memories of what was loved and what no longer is. Emet-Selch chooses not to do that. He does not grieve for Amaurot and his lost loved ones; he refuses, no matter how often he mentions his loss, to admit that what is gone is gone.

Elidibus, rather similarly, refuses to accept that the duty he took on when called upon to become Zodiark's heart is finally at an end. That the world he and Emet-Selch originated from is gone. Although he admits that he can barely remember why he's set on this path, he refuses to turn away from him.

One won't forget, one can barely remember--neither will grieve and let go.

Even the Ascians' characteristic arrogance and disdain for what they consider "lesser beings" is easy to read as their long-lasting struggle with grief. Considering the Sundering, all the beings that the Ascians are so disdainful of are, in fact, echoes of that which they once knew. If they acknowledged that, accepted those beings as what they are and perhaps even admitted they had worth... well... Rather like realizing abruptly that you've spent a whole day without thinking of someone recently departed, it feels like a betrayal.

To find value in the worlds as they currently are, to turn away from the duty they were asked to uphold, to choose to lay down the memories of the past are all, in essence, choices the Ascians will not make because to do so would be to let go of what's lost, to move into the acceptance of grief and that can feel like betraying those whose memories are slowly fading.

Emet-Selch's end--"Remember us."--is directly tied to his refusal to forget. To let himself have even one day without hoping for an eventuality that's highly unlikely regardless of effort, without remembering the Sundering and the Final Days. He remembered, forcefully and tenaciously, and wishes that legacy to live beyond him.

While Elidibus, in remembering, unable to deny failure any longer, finally expresses grief and loss. "My people. My brothers. ...My friends. Stay strong. Keep the faith. At duty's end, we will meet again. We will. We will. The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it."

And coming from villains, quite specifically from villains that have been largely indistinct "puppet master" figures throughout the previous expansions, these story arcs were a punch to the gut. (Yes, I had to pause writing this to cry helplessly over Elidibus again because my gods, that last line just...) Villains are at their best in fiction when they're relatable. When it's so very easy to see that thin line between villain and hero.

Faced with the loss of everything you'd ever loved, with the faintest possibility of getting it back, what would you do? What wouldn't you do? Yes, the Ascians did terrible things and that's undeniable. Stopping them was necessary to save hundreds of thousands of lives. And doing so, being victorious, didn't feel like a victory and that is such a rare, rare thing in media. The Warrior of Light does the right thing, but in doing so, must face the fact that those they've been fighting have hopes and dreams and feelings and pain as real and as motivating as theirs.

And Shadowbringers does such an impressive job of turning those standard tropes around. Heroes are a dime a dozen because if you just awaken them, as Elidibus did with the starshower, well, there can be dozens of Warriors running around. Villains have heart-wrenching motivations and relatable reasons for their goals. History is multi-faceted and no one person knows what the "truth" truly is. Grief can spur people to helping others (i.e. the tank Role Quest ending) or it can fester and go unhealed and create nothing but more destruction.

There is so much that Shadowbringers did beautifully, I don't have the time to touch on all of it. The lack of "breaking the flawed system fixes everything" trope following Eulmore's liberation from Vauthry and the struggles that Eulmore faces in trying to build a functional, working social order for themselves. Embracing the value of childish dreams and tending to the smallest, most overlooked victims of trauma with the Pixie Tribal Quests. Dealing with a commander whose soldiers died and seeing Lyna's survivor's guilt. Seeing how having a single, unified goal can inspire and rally people into putting differences aside and helping each other.

Shadowbringers has finally ended with Patch 5.55. The story on the First ended with Patch 5.3. And all I can say is that this is a game that I will never forget.

#Shadowbringers #FFXIV #OOC #Yes I had A Lot of Thoughts

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svft2jae · 4 years

Text

[6:30PM]

"these verses are for you, my angel

whose been the reason love has turned so heavenly to me

to you, a unique one many would tell as complicated

but who deserves to be loved, treasured in the same intensity

yes, you've came to be

the purest feeling i own, my only certainty

that shines in my eyes every time im honored to hear

your magnificent voice,

the only door

to the world i see."

for the third time through this rainy evening you recite the last line of the sketch in your hands, right then pressing it against your chest. at this point, fight the bitter knot of anxiety in top of your throat was almost like a torment, when after so long you had finally come to reify, or more specifically in romantic rhymes, everything you kept inside yourself for the only person who made all the love songs finally have sense, especially when you'd hear them resonating like honey drops in tunes sung out of your beloved's lips. almost immediately as you looked back at the writing between your fingers there you could already bring to mind all of his details such as the way his bright, almond eyes closed filled with emotions every time he gave in to singing, even if only by quiet notes like hummings while preparing something in the kitchen — yes, everything that meant doyoung, from his broad shoulders to his strong personality that you ended up learning to love albeit being so different from yours, every memory tinted by his colors once again flashed back behind your eyelids as if they were already another part of yours, making you forget any sadness or weight, except for a simple one which always kept bringing your feet back to the floor of reality.

with that you take a deep breath and pushed the white material away buried deep in your jacket's pocket, resting your head which suddenly seemed to become as heavy as a rice package against the front door of the apartment him and your long-time best friend mark shared, being it the last thing to separate you from the no return decision of confessing all those feelings taking over you for so long. little by little together to all the memories gradually a flood of questions came back as well to your mind, among them the clear words once told by mark, the same ones that ever since made your throat burn and nights go by without you being able to sleep, every day at the same time your insides grew filled with love.

"you and doyoung are pretty much in the same age difference as both my friends taeil and hyuck. that's a bit complicated, since you can't just predict someone's feelings. he can might not see things like you do, y/n."

you remember it this way what the older one said at the last afternoon when you had asked him for advices, his kind expression a little worried as he lowered his guitar to meet your blank staring face right then. not that you hadn't ever thought of such a possibility, but over time, over how much you saw him when he often visited your theater group rehearsals with mark and his other classmates, amid the jokes and laughs you exchanged at breaks, over the times he learned to call you by your name by the frequent study afternoons mark brought you in, and even the so precious conversations between you two as you'd offer to help him in the kitchen or when tidying up the rooms, such times like these you'd remember so fondly, as well sometimes when he'd sing out a snippet of his favorite songs after you and your best friend asked so much — with all these little things you ended up considering such idea to seem like fading along to the anguish it brought, not that it'd somehow come back heavier than never, the way a sharp material would feel right against them.

however in the end of all of this, it did. while you now insisted on swallowing the fresh, single tears already beginning to roll down your humid cheeks, molds of insecurity and fear hurting the pit of your stomach like never before, you still try anyway to make your feet to rush away, yet no answer came from your own body besides to remain there, waiting for any impulse of courage which could might raise up from your heart. but when you'd finally swallow it all and decide for leaving, the door moves behind your back catching you by surprise, electricity running to your ears as the person behind it tries to open it once more.

"y/n...?" just so you hear doyoung's velvety voice hitting your hair through the small gap he had managed to open without your body's block, a tone of confusion and clear concern in it. "what happened? mark said you two weren't going to study today."

he speaks again, but all earned is another silence. on weak knees and with no other choice you just turn to the taller one behind you, planning to apologize for the inconvenience and then retreat as soon as possible if it wasn't for the way your puffy, teary eyes met his through the small space, making his own surprised enough to see you like this.

"what happened?" almost like an inaudible whisper doyoung repeats, his tone now much sweeter and closer as his thin fingers reaches through the gap to take yours. still not able to make up any action you let out a small sob in response to his touch, just as, unbeknownst to you or to your own control one, two, three other drops once again roll down, making the dark haired in front of you raise his other hand to pull open the door completely, but soon being interrupted by yours, holding it to stay in the same place. gradually you took the folded paper out of your pocket, and instead of anything else you might think of doing, handed it to doyoung, your chest still stinging though as resigned as you were and closed the door for a moment, leaving it to him so he'd read all he had to read up that little white material containing so many dreams and emotions as impossible as any chance you'd ever have in such an uncertain place as by his side.

"what am i doing.."

a few minutes later as your feet were once again struggling to move to no more coming back you feel the door slowly open, one more beat slipping off your pulsations as you see doyoung for the first time sniffle without it being because of an onion, his eyes sparkling beneath his glowing brown bangs like small teary bits of the starry sky with the light frown his eyebrows expressed, all while he stared at you as if he wanted to say something but didn't have enough breath to, holding the paper steady on his fingers.

"that was, the most beautiful thing i've ever received in my life." he said softly out the way he felt his heart utterly touched, as one more little drop scapes your lids, making you wipe it off with the sleeve of your jacket almost reflexively.

"the most beautiful thing i ever received was once meeting you."

another silence breaks out on either sides of the small opening. no matter how hard you'd push yourself against it and your feelings still struggled to wait for what would come, what since the beginning always was the biggest risk of it all each passing second kept to hurt even more, the same fate which would put a point to all the amazing things that you secretly felt for so long, and right it was seeming to consume you there in front of doyoung, without any more turns. but still you just held it all, out of sudden hearing the pull of the door and turn your gaze to the who was a bit little closer, his niveous face resting against the bar of wood.

"i need some time. i need to understand all of this i'm feeling. i've already been hurted a lot, and this, this is the first time anyone has shown me such affection. i still don't know how to correspond you."

you remember it this way each of his words, that quickly got stuck one by one over the material inside your chest. how to ever forget them, if so right after as the days went by yet heartbreak insisted on getting itself a place they kept still vivid in countless wonders amongst your thoughts everytime you'd see yourself locking eyes with doyoung again, when mark would be there like how he showed up in the moment you first heard them, and no longer neither of you would act as always. with the memories of doyoung's so sincere words, of what could be actually hidden behind the reason they'd have, if maybe he was instead as hurt as you but more by what he's been living, if his own angelical tears meant so, all these new ideas being the only ones surrounding your nights nonetheless spent thinking of him, of the constant wish for his healing, before the pain of still no room to your feelings.

how would you hand everything to the gap, or give the love you had for it. he was the one you loved.

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