#nimueries

         he could see it. his brother was slipping away, moving into a dark place. he knew that galahad’s departure on the grail quest had hit mordred hard, had tried to speak with his youngest brother several times. but mordred was spectacular at avoiding gawain after years of practice. so, naturally, he would go to the one other person in camelot that he knew mordred was close to. ‘ lady nimue, i was wondering if i could have a moment of your time. ‘

               THIS HAD BEEN a foolish idea. Everyone had told him so. But to Arthur, it had been a necessary step:                                                       he had to step foot on Avalon’s shores. 

Piercing blue eyes met startling violet as he held his hand out, trying not to shiver against the feeling of undiluted, pure magic hanging thick and strangling in the air. It was not an unwelcome crawl against his skin, but it was a feeling so unfamiliar to Arthur that he by instinct want to jerk against it. Instead, he stilled his limbs as well as his eyes, laying them evenly on Nimue. 

Now that they were here, he wanted to explore more, but sense dictated that they stay on the shore. I need you to believe in me. It was said as a plea; to ask her not to make him say goodbye. He didn’t want to have two come on the boat and one return. He wanted them both to climb back in, sail over the water. He needed that very much. 

When she then diverted his statement — one of the bravest things he’d said to her yet — to talk about his knights and his people, Arthur shot an amused, albeit severe, look at her. He was going to say that he was trying to be serious, for her to please actually entertain the idea that they could... have a real conversation. 

But then she took his hand and tugged him further into the island, and his feet followed her bidding. 

❝   Better men than I have tried to fight the Fates and failed miserably.  ❞  Granted, who was to say that he was the May Born that would lead to Arthur’s demise? Perhaps Arthur truly had defied his destiny and that child had passed so Mordred was no true THREAT. And yet, since his realisation of his birth and the events after, some things just couldn’t pass. There was no turning back now, surely even she knew it, Of all people, shouldn’t she know?  Mordred even had the blood of a Holy man on his hands in his anger and his initial DENIAL of the truth of his birth.  ❝   He sent so many children to DIE due to his own fear of his precious kingdom crumbling. There was no thought to the lives of those infants, no care. Am I expected to ignore all that had been done?   ❞

Though perhaps a part of him did expect her to try and talk him out of his plans, to talk him out of his own plans to SEIZE the throne. Perhaps a part of Mordred even HOPED for that to be the case. He had always been a good and loyal knight and now he was meant to ruin all those tales of Sir Mordred, knight of Camelot. And then that hidden anger he could hide so well would expose its head like a venomous SNAKE, looking to sink its fangs into the cause of it all. Bastard or not, he could have grown up a prince. An easy life with no questions about his parentage, no doubts of his king, his father.

And infants wouldn’t have been murdered.

❛ most peculiar. ❜

and he does not simply speak of the features cast in shadow , obscured from his gaze. 

no , there are entire worlds within these tiny little words , small as a drop of water and just as easily held —which is to say , not easily at all. he appraises her with dark eyes and wonders where in this billowing world she has come from , and more than that , what follows her from there. he sees not a wanderess before him , but rather , beyond the veil —as is the case with most veils in his experience— something more. something incredibly valuable. 

and incredibly curious.

HE IS INTIMATE WITH PATIENCE. he is as intimate with patience as he is with hunger , and while both have kept him idle outside her windows for this long , neither are the ideal destination. part of the journey , yes , of course , the latter even a motivation of sorts , but in the end , neither can last. if they were to , it all tends to lose its weight. and if he knows anything about feeding a hunger , he understands that satiation IS ALL IN THE OUNCES.

she is solid in his hands , fragile and yet anything but , crippled and yet crippling. his grip tightens , and his stomach rumbles , her scent wafting up to greet him like an old friend. or an ancient wet dream. regardless of which , he basks in her every emotion which crosses deep blue without drowning themselves. her fear is not a common fear. he can no longer even be sure that fear has anything to do with him. but he knows it has much to do with her , and he is keen to DISSECT it.

what is she afraid of ? what does she see in the mirror that he cannot see through the curtains ?

❝ would i be here if i were at all disappointed in you , nimue ? ❞

but they both know better than that because the truth is that it is , in every way , possible. although in that scenario , he would feel less a victim and more . . . HIMSELF. as of now however , he is prey snagged on her baited hook , eyes filled with wonder , belly filled with WANT. he remembers how obsessed he had been with seeing just how deep he could CUT into a body without staining his dress shirt.

yet now , he wants the evidence of her all over him.

❝ and what did you expect to get from me for it , hm ? you wanted a reward and not just me letting myself into your home and inviting myself to dinner. ❞ his hands sweep from her shoulders to the column of her neck , bending it in his fingers , feeling the points and places he would need to manipulate in order to END IT ALL.

instead , he cups her jaw as if to drink from her his fill. he thinks he might. ❝ you , so generous with your person , with every inch of your body , you wanted something from me. so please. name your price , and i shall pay my dues for the pleasure of it all. ❞

Morgause Legends verse 01 (heavily influenced by Lavinia Collins’ Arthurian book series): mv: i am shield to their swords FC: Meryem Uzerli

Background: Morgause is the eldest daughter of Goloris & Igraine of Tintagel. At the age of 11 her father was killed by Uther, who married her mother making her Queen of Camelot. In an effort to supposedly “protect” Morgause she arranged for her to be married to King Lot of Orkney, a man 30 years her elder. Her sister Morgan, being only 3 years old and also having a strong gift of magic in her blood was sent away to live in an abbey until her training would begin in Avalon. Morgause was jealous of her sister’s gifts and the protection that it offered her, but also thankful that she would be spared the fate that awaited her.

Verse: Lot is a cruel man, though Morgause has learned to counter his brutishness with her own tactics. While she cannot escape their marriage or, ultimately, his abuse, she will not allow him to break her spirit and play the role of obedient wife. Though their marriage has caused her nothing but pain and suffering there is one thing that has come out of it that she cherishes more then life itself: her 4 beautiful sons. Aggravain, Gawain, Gaheris, and Gareth. 

She does her best to shield them from Lot’s abuses as best she can, though as with herself she is not always successful. She will make sure that they have all the happiness that she never did - and that they treat their wives better then Lot ever thought of treating her.