The Bleak Midwinter

“Sometimes you have to do what you think is right, and damn the consequences.”.

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 18: Whisked by Whims

Myrelle twisted the skin around her fingers and paced the length of her chambers. She had to solve this problem. 

Why had Gwayne kept this from her for more than a week? 

He was trying to keep her from attending the tourney. She was certain. She needed to find a way to guarantee her attendance without involving him at all. 

She went to her bureau and began composing a letter.

Before conscious thought entered her mind, she realized she was writing to Aerion. Her hand froze, quill poised on the parchment. What in the seven hells are you thinking? She scanned the lines she’d written. Gods, she sounded pathetic. Her face burned. Images of that night in King’s Landing flashed in her mind. Creeping through the hidden passages. Tussling on her bed. Months and months had passed, and still, the sensations were burned into her body. 

She should tear apart the parchment. She should throw it into the hearthfire. 

She should write to Percival or Kiera.

Instead, she pressed her quill down once more. Honest words flowed from her as if she were cursed.

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OR

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Myrelle and Aerion begin writing one another as they pass the time in their respective homes.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/227965376

[porcelain-wolf]

Between Destiny and Desire

Chapter 36: The Serpent Beneath

Morgana was supposed to be broken. Hollow. Distant. But the waters of Avalon brought her emotions to the very surface of her skin.  

There was no way she could conceal her true feelings from Merlin. She knew the instant she glimpsed him in the rowboat. Her heart was chaos, torn between wanting him near and wanting never to see him again. 

She didn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t reveal her deception, nor her plan. But she made no attempt to hide how she felt. 

It wasn’t what she’d wanted to do. She was supposed to disarm him with her fragility. She was supposed to make him believe he saved her, and that she returned to Camelot with joy and gratitude, rescued from the evil clutches of Morgause. 

In the end, it mattered not. She disarmed him anyway. His feelings for her hadn’t faded; he wanted her still. 

Morgause told her to use every advantage she had, and Morgana intended to.

__

OR

__

Morgana returns to Camelot.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 17: Wrestling against the Web

“You don’t get to set terms, Lady Oakheart,” Bloodraven interrupted. His voice was unyielding, but his expression was amused.

“Don’t you want the information I have?” she challenged. 

He was silent for a long moment. He rose, stepping into her space. “I have plenty of sources of information. I don’t need you to accomplish my aims.”

Myrelle bit her lip. “What are your aims?”

He laughed. “You expose levers far too readily. You’d like to know my purpose, would you?”

She scowled, internally reprimanding herself. “I find it difficult not to voice my inquiries. I don’t expect you to tell me.”

“Perhaps I will, if you earn my trust.” He paused, bringing his hand to his chin. “Tell me what you found.”

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OR

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Myrelle returns home for her brother's wedding. Aerion gives in.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 16: To Claw, To Consume

That night, in her dream, Aerion was beneath her. His hands found her hips, just like they had before. But instead of gripping to halt her, they gripped to bruise. They pressed and pressed and pressed until she cried out. And soon, the fingers became claws, digging deep into her flesh. His eyes became slits. His teeth became fangs, and he smiled a hungry smile—wicked and vicious. Suddenly, he flipped her to her back, and when she opened her eyes, he was something grotesque. Not quite a man, not quite a dragon.

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OR

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Aerion leaves King's Landing, and Myrelle finds a sliver of power in her precarious position.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 15: To Linger in the Flame

She could escape Bloodraven, marriage, she could escape this wretched country that felt like a prison. 

She dropped her hand. 

She couldn’t leave Westeros. She couldn’t leave her mother. She couldn’t leave Gwayne, and the children he would surely have with Rosemary. She couldn’t leave the friends she’d come to care for so deeply. Not permanently.

Escape wouldn’t be freedom. It would be exile. 

She rose to her feet. 

She swallowed. 

She should tell—

She swallowed harder. 

No. 

She wanted to—

Stop it. She gripped the torch so hard her knuckles popped. 

Her feet carried her back up the staircase while her mind raged. Damn it all, but her heart was going to win out over her mind. The decision was made as soon as the door revealed itself. She was going to tell Aerion. 

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OR

--

Myrelle feels more trapped than ever, and she tries to wrangle as much freedom as she can within the confines of her predicament.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/224559501

[porcelain-wolf]

Between Destiny & Desire

Chapter 35: To Drown, To Dread, To Dream

The stone of the altar bit into her back. His sea-bright eyes hovered in her mind—the way they’d burrowed into hers when he told her he loved her. When he told her to trust her. When poison flooded her body. 

Why the hell was she still protecting him? 

She ignored the ache in her chest.

She nodded.

Morgause’s nostrils flared. She pushed Morgana harder into the altar for a brief moment, then released her. 

“I will not tolerate further duplicity, Morgana,” said Morgause. “Are you loyal to me, or to him?”

A hint of uncertainty lingered like a cloud in her heart. She thought of the hounds, the threat to the ones she loved. She thought of the lamb on the altar, its missing spleen. 

But Morgause was solace. Morgause was wisdom and safety and power. Morgause was her blood. 

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OR

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Morgana confronts Merlin after his betrayal.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/69515966/chapters/224392836

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 14: Strike Flint to Steel

Aerion finally allowed himself to scan the room, his eyes hungry and searching. 

The sight of her hit him like a blow. There she was, standing at the back of the room beside some White Cloak. Winter had come and gone since he’d last seen her sweet, sparrow face. She’d grown into her beauty; he couldn’t deny it. Her cheekbones had sharpened; her body had filled out in the places that made her womanly—had lengthened in the places that made her delicate: wrists and waist and neck. When he lifted his eyes to hers, she bore the same expression he’d seen on every other face that night. Wariness. Fear. Disgust. 

It didn’t thrill him the way it did with the others. 

It looked too much like something buried, like a letter ignored. 

Maekar cleared his throat. Aerion tore his eyes away from her. 

--

OR

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Aerion returns to King Landing, but things don't go how he planned.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/223707166#workskin

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 13: Spilling Blood & Sorrows

“Do you think anything is taking root?” Myrelle asked Kiera one morning. 

She hated to address the matter directly, but there were some questions only Kiera could answer, unless Myrelle was willing to truly invade her privacy. She wasn’t.

“I won’t know until my moon’s blood, I suppose, but the prince is—unrelenting,” Kiera answered with a smirk.

Myrelle couldn’t do this. She couldn’t maintain such inquiries. 

“You’ll tell me as soon as you know?” she pressed.

Kiera grabbed her hand and smiled. “You’ll be the first to know.”

--

OR

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Myrelle struggles under the weight of expectations, desires, and Bloodraven's control.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/223349136

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 12: A Season for Violence & Vices

One cannot enjoy a flower until it is plucked, her father had told her.

Myrelle hadn’t agreed with him. I can enjoy the flower just fine right here, she’d said, gesturing to the blossoms still intact, still planted in the soil. 

Lord Dennas had smiled and said, The withered petals are the most beautiful of all, for they remind us to appreciate beauty while it lasts. There is no life without death, Myrelle. 

A cawing startled her from her memory. She tossed the crocus into the soil. 

When she looked up, she stifled a gasp. A man stood in her path. She’d scarcely seen him in her time at King’s Landing, but each sighting sent a chill to her heart. 

Myrelle curtsied. “Lord Bloodraven.”

His red mark crinkled as he smiled at her. It was a kind smile, but it looked threatening on his imposing mien. “Shouldn’t you be in the Keep?” he commented.

--

OR

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A royal wedding takes place. Aerion continues his campaign in the marches.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/222970041

[porcelain-wolf]

Between Destiny and Desire

Chapter 34: The Cost of Vengeance

Mordred smiled once more. “We will meet again,” he said. His voice had the even insistence of prophetic certainty. 

Still, it didn’t soothe the ache in Morgana’s chest. She brought her thumb to Mordred’s forehead and traced a triskelion as she whispered, “You must be safe. You must be wise. You must be brave.”

Mordred reached toward her forehead, but he wasn’t tall enough. She knelt before him. He repeated Morgana’s action, tracing the symbol with his cold little thumb. 

“As must you,” he replied confidently.

She wanted to hug him again, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to let go. Mordred turned and exited the temple, striding towards the lake’s edge. As he walked away, a flame sparked in Morgana. I will end the threat that parts us, she vowed. I will destroy that which makes us hide. I will wipe that rancid tyrant from this earth.

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OR

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Balinor and Merlin make their way to the Lake of Avalon. Morgana's hatred of Uther resurges with a vengeance.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/69515966/chapters/222500191

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 11: Whispers of Silk and Ruin

“Gods, if only I had such a friend who was blind to my flaws, like this beautiful creature is!” Tyasha leaned across the table and pulled the hood back from Kiera’s head. “You haven’t noticed, little sparrow?” 

Myrelle’s heart twisted. Had this Tyasha put her under some sort of spell? Had she reached into her brain and unearthed her secrets? No one called her little sparrow. No one but—him. Not in nearly three years. Not since he manhandled her in the hidden passages. She thought back to that evening, remembered his grip on her arms as he shoved her into the damp wall. She hated the way he grabbed her, pushed her. Her pulse sped as she viscerally recalled that night. She hated that she wasn’t afraid of him then. Curse her, did she never learn? Why did she still search for him in every room? Why did she still feel his eyes on her in every corridor of the damned Red Keep? 

She did fear him now. She saw it again, the plunging dagger. The wicked gleam of satisfaction.

So why did she long to hear it again—little sparrow? 

Here, amidst the heady incense, she couldn’t lie to herself. She feared that gleam, but she yearned for it all the same. Gods, why did the thought of it make her burn?

--

OR

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Myrelle and Kiera go on an adventure.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/222155571

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 10: Shedding Wings and Weaknesses

Her return to King’s Landing was supposed to be an adventure of discovery, an unfurling of Myrelle’s true self. For here in the capital two years prior, she felt more settled in her skin than she ever had. But now, with the criticisms chipping her away and responsibilities weighing her down, she felt so unsure of herself. 

An image flashed before her eyes: the molted exoskeleton of a cicada stuck on the bark of an oak tree. She’d asked Maester Goddard what it was, when she was little. An exuvia, he’d called it. It can be crushed and used in many remedies. 

That was all she was. An empty husk whose only use was found in the crushing.

She imagined peeling the shell from the bark. She imagined throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. 

She began to cry. 

Soft footsteps approached.

--

OR

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Aerion further proves his prowess. Myrelle adjusts to her new role as a Lady in Waiting.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/221949031

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 9: The Sting of Stillness

The fucking itch was still there.

She was there. 

It was that Matilda girl’s fault. She’d tried to entice him. And everything she lacked had been so blatantly clear. It created this fucking vacuum in his chest that yawned in its emptiness. Matilda’s eyes were dark brown, not hazel. Her frame was ample, not narrow. Her hair—it was all wrong. 

Aerion closed his eyes and sighed, remembering the sensation of his fingers running through those dark locks. Of the tension breaking as she cut off a tendril for him. Something stirred low in his gut. 

He let his mind wander. Let it trace the path it had taken many nights, for many months.

He stood by the harbor.

--

OR

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Myrelle grapples with guilt and grief. Aerion struggles to stifle his obsession as he adjusts to Blackhaven.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/221627961

[porcelain-wolf]

Between Destiny and Desire

Chapter 33: To Comfort, To Condemn

“Why do you protect him, Morgana?” she demanded. “He tried to kill you! Gods, he does not deserve a scrap of your good will.”

Morgause was right. 

Merlin had lied to her. Merlin had told her he loved her and then fucking killed her. How long had he known? When did he decide? Why did she ever trust him? Her vision began to darken as the doubts swirled, spiraled, screamed in her mind.

She hated him.

The feeling was a talisman. She imagined placing it on a chain and slipping it around her neck. She imagined running her finger over her hatred and cradling it in her hand like the precious bit of truth it was. Her diaphragm burned where the sensation lived. 

The words hovered on her tongue. Merlin’s secret, his destiny—his true name.

--

OR

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Morgana deals with the complex dynamics on the Island of Avalon. Merlin and Balinor pursue Kilgharrah's quest.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 8: The Embers of Grief

Gwayne’s calm irritated him. It reminded him of the woodenness that Myrelle had sported the last time he’d seen her, all those months ago. 

Aerion’s pulse pounded as he thought of her. And the drumbeat of his heart was yearning. Spite. Rage. The familiar doubts began to swirl around his mind. 

You were such a naive fool, spat the voice. She played you like a fiddle. 

And then, darker: You should have let her take off her gown by the bay. 

He kicked the beast in his chest, silencing the cursed thoughts. Fucking weak. 

He began to encroach upon his father’s ward. He crowded him into the corner of the yard. He barraged him with an onslaught of blows. Then, he ceased his attack and took three steps back. Gwayne raced out from the corner. Aerion began to circle him. 

“When will your family next visit, little Gwayne?” Aerion taunted. “I do miss your sister.”

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OR

--

Aerion's cruelty grows as he deals with the bitter indifference of time, and those he wished were not so indifferent.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/220983446#workskin

[porcelain-wolf]

A Pleasure to Burn

Chapter 7: The Venom Seeps Through

“You think Prince Aerion’s reputation more important than the girl’s safety?” 

Myrelle found Baelor’s worry somewhat ridiculous. Her safety? Aerion was temperamental, but not dangerous. She knew in her bones that Aerion wouldn’t hurt her. Not really. 

He already has, you naive little fool, said a voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like Septa Dorene.

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OR

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Aerion and Myrelle explore the secret passages in the Red Keep, and a new epithet is earned.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82771206/chapters/220795716#workskin

[porcelain-wolf]

Between Destiny and Desire

Chapter 32: Where the Veil Thins

Outside, it was the muggy, lush green of early summer. They went to a sitting area in an unkempt garden. It was overgrown, filled with weeds and vines and wildflowers. 

“Give me more of the tonic,” Morgana said as they sat. 

Morgause picked a flower from behind the bench. Its petals were bright pink and wispy. She tucked Morgana’s hair behind her ear and stuck the flower there. 

“Rosebay willowherb,” said Morgause. “A resilient plant, dear sister. Some even liken it to a phoenix. It can survive fire and ruin, reborn stronger than before.” She grabbed Morgana’s hands and met her eyes meaningfully. “The ferhþemiltsa was necessary for your survival, crucial for your recovery. But I won’t be giving you any more. Not at its full potency.”

 Morgana dug her fingers into Morgause’s grip. “Why not?”

“This is why, Morgana.” Morgause peeled Morgana’s fingers from hers. “There are consequences to such a potion, and its benefits can no longer serve you.”

“I don’t want to feel,” Morgana whispered. It was a plea as much as it was a confession.

--

OR

Morgana regains consciousness on the Isle of Avalon. Merlin follows the magic Ragnelle gave him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/69515966/chapters/220326206