Agh, that one-sided Bedi/Artoria was perfect, but you're right- the poor sweet summer child;;; Soooo, if you don't mind, can I have some fluff with Bedi? (It can be Bedi/Artoria or just general fluff- I don't mind^^ the poor child deserves to be happy;;;;)
Did someone say….. fluff?
I’m in-between posts I should actually be writing and the manuscript I have due Thursday morning. Shitposting my idea of sweet while trying to hammer out a serious short story is aesthetic. 8) Started decent, turned bad. Sorry.
I’m going to make “existential crisis” my general fluff flash prompt. I love writing about existential crises and the angst and fear it causes. It can also be stupid cute. So BAM.
Bedivere Existential Fluff
“Master,” he asks, “do you believe in fate?”
Master laughs. “That’s a pretty loaded question given the series we exist in. I think I’m obligated to say yes.”
“That is not quite what I meant.” Bedivere frowns and and hangs his head. “I mean, how much control does one have over their own actions? Does that control matter if we lose it in a number of other timelines?”
“Bedivere…” Master plants their hand on his shoulder. He jolts upright. “Whoa! Sorry.”
“Ah! No, it’s fine, Master. You are allowed to touch me.”
Master leans their head against his. He stiffens at the closeness. He is often near Master, but they are in noticeable proximity of him and it’s only a little terrifying.
“I was going to say that I think fate is irrelevant,” Master states. They twirl their fingers through the servant’s silver hair. It falls through their fingers like silk.
Bedivere relaxes and stretches their arm out behind Master. “During Camelot,” he mutters, “I realized how heavy my actions were. I spent thousands of years trying to track down the Lion King.” He bites his lip. “Because I failed to return Excalibur, the King turned into… something else entirely. I wonder how much of that is my fault, or how much I was destined to do.”
Master wraps themselves around Bedivere’s arm. He spikes a fever.
“What do you want that answer to be?” Master asks.
The knight tilts his neck back and gazes into the sky. Fluffy white clouds speckle the bright blue abyss.
I would make a terrible cloud, he thinks, for I worry far too often.
He says, “I wish to believe that my actions are meaningful. My service as the caretaker to King Arthur is my proudest accomplishment. I don’t know how I feel about all of society collapsing as a consequence of my mess.”
“Who could’ve possibly known that it would turn the king into a divine being with no heart or soul?” Master nudges Bedivere. “Whether you were fated to screw up or not, I don’t think it matters.”
His stomach sinks. “I want to believe it does. I revel in believing in those things greater than ourselves.”
Master reaches for his hand and holds it close. His skin prickles. The hair prods at Master like a porcupine. Each finger slides across the dry ridges and bloated callouses. Patches are rough as leather.
“Why does it have to be about something greater? It could be something far worse, for all you know,” Master says.
“I suppose that’s true. But what point is there to purposely creating failure? Why would they manufacture a timeline in which I’m destined to fail and the end of civilization will be on my shoulders?” Bedivere frowns. His lip quivers.
Master brings his hand to their lips and plants light kisses on the knuckles. “You know how you spent like a thousand years trying to return Excalibur and kept screwing up?”
He throws his arms up in defeat. “Yes, I mentioned that a moment again and do not need to be reminded.”
“Right, well,” Master says, “I think the gods go through something similar. They don’t get the events right on the first try, either. I’m sure there is a part of reality that benefits from the Lion King vaporizing everyone.”
Bedivere reels back, appalled. “What good comes of that?!”
Master shrugs. “If we never get to my era, the ozone layer doesn’t fall apart because the greenhouse effect doesn’t trap us all in a bubble of carbon waiting to burst like the student debt crisis, and the icecaps don’t melt… and the world doesn’t become an overpopulated, inefficiently-zoned patch of land about to be flooded by said melting icebergs in the coming generations.”
Only one of the knight’s eyebrows pop up in curiosity. Because what master said makes very little sense. And he is confused. He has no idea what any of that means, but he chooses to believe Master and nod in agreement anyway.
“Trust me, Bedivere. You don’t want to live in a world without polar bears.”
The two of them lean on each other and stare longingly out into the distance.
