Pairings/Characters: Morgana/Merlin (mention of Gwen)
Warnings: Character death, really angsty.
Disclaimer: Not real. Despite birthday wishes and night time prayers to Santa (all Hail Amy Pond!) Merlin still isn't mine!
Rating: MA-15 for themes.
Summary: When she loses her world, she knows he will always be watching over her.
Author Notes: What? A fic. IKR? Don't get too excited...
This was written when I saw royalprat had posted on tumblr, orginally posted by McMorgans who, imho, is a goddess (she always runs colinkatie which is my tumblr home... so this is dedicated to both royalprat and mcmorgans and to everybody who ships Mergana in the universe.
The gif this is based off of. Everybody go praise and worship now!
All day she had been dealing with people giving her their condolences, telling her that they were sorry for her loss. Gwen had tried to come back home with her but she had run away quicker than Gwen could keep up, managing to drive herself home before she broke down.
She climbed onto the sofa and curled into the corner that he used to sit in, he would perch with his laptop on the arm, feet tucked under his self. He’d sit like it without his computer too as he looked the other way to the TV and she would curl into his side. He would drape his arm about her shoulders and pull her close; she would give anything for him to be there now, like it was all a bad dream, that she wasn’t alone.
Behind her on the wall as a picture of the pair of them taken on his birthday the year before. She ran her finger across his quirked eyebrow. She had her lips puckered to kiss him, her long raven black hair swept behind her ears out of her face. The second the picture had been taken she kissed him clean on the cheek. He had turned his head to face her and kissed her properly. His hair was mussed everywhere from the strength of the wind walking to the party venue. Everything about the picture was a happy memory for her.
She missed him.
She still couldn’t believe he was gone. Hit by a speeding driver as he’d crossed at a Zebra crossing. She’d been waiting for him so they could go out to dinner to celebrate. She looked at the ring on her finger, it was going so well. She turned the white gold band with her thumb, catching the singular diamond. It wasn’t over stated, or too flashy. It was delicate and inricate with a small pattern etched into the metal. Everything about it represented their relationship, it represented them.
A fresh wave of tears flooded down her cheeks.
It had been a week; the funeral has been sorted out quickly. Along with his mother, Hunith, she had been in charge of making decisions about what he would have wanted. Nobody wearing black, a celebration of his life not a depression over his death. His closest friends all invited, word of mouth reaching those whose lives he had touched. At least a hundred of them she couldn’t name. Everyone of them had nothing but good things to say about him, their kind words had reverberated around the wake, some conversations she’d caught had made her smile through her sadness. She knew she was lucky to have had him; all these people made her realise just how much.
Eight days ago they had been the happiest people in the world and it had been ripped from her so fast, so brutally.
The ring on her finger was an aching reminder of that.
It hadn’t been a lavish deal.
They had gone out to Hyde Park for the afternoon. It was hot and they found themselves on the park lake on a pedalo. It was just relaxed and simple. They were messing around going around in circles when he pulled the velvet box from his pocket. She was so shocked that she’d jumped back so far that she nearly fell out of the pedalo. She waited for him to say something as she had lost all ability to do so. She laughed, leant over the lever and kissed him. The smile on her face when she pulled away was a broad toothy grin. With the way he was looking at her, she had never felt more loved. And she had never loved so much.
She caught a glimpse of a bridal magazine on the table. She had been given it by Gwen the day he’d died, the morning before her whole world got ripped apart. She grabbed it and threw it across the room with a scream. Her nose was running; her cheeks soaked with her salty tears. She sank down to the floor, leaning against the sofa as she cried. She wiped at her eyes but it was no use, her tears kept coming.
Within ten minutes her cries had subsided, she was stuffed up and sniffling.
Her eyes trailed over to the magazine, it had landed open. On the page there was a post-it note stuck to a dress. She crawled over to it and wiped her face. She picked up the magazine and brought it into her lap. I see you in this. Looking better than her of course. I ♥ you. It was his hand writing. She gently peeled the post-it off and looked at the dress. It was beautiful, the sort she would have picked. It had a sleek train a few feet long, a topaz band around the waist with matching beaded detailing on the bust. It was simple but it was gorgeous.*
A fresh stream of tears came down her face. She was calmer now yet the droplets fell onto the glossy page of the magazine, leaving splash marks on it.
She missed him. She would always miss him. But he would always be a part of her, watching over her from wherever he was. The thought gave her strength and she knew then, in that moment that she would be able to carry on. With him smiling down on her.
End note: yeah, I depressed myself, but hey, writing flow is back. which is good, I need to write my dissertation now!
P13 is the dress I imagined. So you can imagine it too!