Temporal Grace, for the Who Contest prompt 'Beauty' and for Doctor Who in Camelot
Title: Temporal Grace
Fandoms: Doctor Who/Merlin
Rating: G
Characters/pairings: Eleven/Morgana
Warnings/spoilers: Spoilers for finale of Merlin.
Wordcount: 413 words
Author's note: Written for the prompt 'Beauty' on who-contest and the prompt ' Eleven/Morgana, Acceptance' on dwincamelot.
Summary: It reminds her of reaching into the deep magic of her soul.
[*]When the Tardis doors fly open, mauve blinker blinking away above them, the Doctor expects to come across a shipwreck or a refugee party of some kind. Rushing outside and nearly crashing into a tree is not part of the plan.
He quickly straightens his fez, but no one is watching, except for the woman there on the ground who's nearly dead-
Wait a second.
[*]It reminds her of reaching into the deep magic of her soul. The buzz of power is the same, the boundless, swirling sea of energy and possibility; only the warmth is different. Magic is lightning and frenzy, demanding strength and tenacity to twist it to the will. This golden energy is a beautiful sunset, a banked firepit that warms and enriches the soul. It soothes her, slowing her racing, fretting mind for the first time in...
Time doesn't exist, here, or it exists forever. Her father's betrayal is suddenly so small, Camelot is so small, Arthur is so small in this endless space. The gold light embraces her and it feels like wrestling with Arthur in the summer, trying on dresses with Gwen, riding through the countryside without a care in the world. She laughs, she smiles, without malice or weight on her heart, and it feels so good.
Arthur's face appears, pale and slack hung over Merlin's shoulder. Gwaine's face appears, contorted with defiance and agony. Gwen's tears, Leon's shock, Uther's betrayed cry of pain and pain and pain
Morgana returns to black consciousness with a gasp, sitting up straight on a soft bed. Her hand flies to her midsection where Merlin stabbed her, but the wound is gone.
Barely a second later a door flies open, and into dark room stumbles a tall, lanky man with a strange hat. “Hello,” he says. “I'm the Doctor. Are you feeling better?”
She stares at his old, pain-filled eyes, and feels her own start to burn bright. He flinches, and she does too, because this is the gold from her dream, not the usual gold of her magic, and it hurts, deep in her chest.
“I-” she chokes. A deep breath, another. “I'm so sorry,” she moans, the gold seeping down into her soul and touching all the evil she's brought into the world, all the pain she has caused.
Fingers touch her face; the Doctor is standing beside her bed, face serious, eyes so soft. “I forgive you,” he says, and when he kisses her, she feels new.
Fandoms: Doctor Who/Merlin
Rating: G
Characters/pairings: Eleven/Morgana
Warnings/spoilers: Spoilers for finale of Merlin.
Wordcount: 413 words
Author's note: Written for the prompt 'Beauty' on who-contest and the prompt ' Eleven/Morgana, Acceptance' on dwincamelot.
Summary: It reminds her of reaching into the deep magic of her soul.
[*]When the Tardis doors fly open, mauve blinker blinking away above them, the Doctor expects to come across a shipwreck or a refugee party of some kind. Rushing outside and nearly crashing into a tree is not part of the plan.
He quickly straightens his fez, but no one is watching, except for the woman there on the ground who's nearly dead-
Wait a second.
[*]It reminds her of reaching into the deep magic of her soul. The buzz of power is the same, the boundless, swirling sea of energy and possibility; only the warmth is different. Magic is lightning and frenzy, demanding strength and tenacity to twist it to the will. This golden energy is a beautiful sunset, a banked firepit that warms and enriches the soul. It soothes her, slowing her racing, fretting mind for the first time in...
Time doesn't exist, here, or it exists forever. Her father's betrayal is suddenly so small, Camelot is so small, Arthur is so small in this endless space. The gold light embraces her and it feels like wrestling with Arthur in the summer, trying on dresses with Gwen, riding through the countryside without a care in the world. She laughs, she smiles, without malice or weight on her heart, and it feels so good.
Arthur's face appears, pale and slack hung over Merlin's shoulder. Gwaine's face appears, contorted with defiance and agony. Gwen's tears, Leon's shock, Uther's betrayed cry of pain and pain and pain
Morgana returns to black consciousness with a gasp, sitting up straight on a soft bed. Her hand flies to her midsection where Merlin stabbed her, but the wound is gone.
Barely a second later a door flies open, and into dark room stumbles a tall, lanky man with a strange hat. “Hello,” he says. “I'm the Doctor. Are you feeling better?”
She stares at his old, pain-filled eyes, and feels her own start to burn bright. He flinches, and she does too, because this is the gold from her dream, not the usual gold of her magic, and it hurts, deep in her chest.
“I-” she chokes. A deep breath, another. “I'm so sorry,” she moans, the gold seeping down into her soul and touching all the evil she's brought into the world, all the pain she has caused.
Fingers touch her face; the Doctor is standing beside her bed, face serious, eyes so soft. “I forgive you,” he says, and when he kisses her, she feels new.