#orkney feels

[sting-like-jelly]

The Orkney boys have always known that Morgause has a gift for the harp, but it comes as a bit of a surprise to them when they figure out that Lot actually has quite the voice… He teaches them all the sea shanties and drinking songs he knows (with strictest admonitions not to tell their mother), and most of them are perfectly happy with that. But Mordred begs him to teach him the ballads and the epics too, and despite Lot’s protests that he’s no bard, he can’t say no to those pleading eyes…

writers-cube knows two of my greastest weaknesses: Good Dad King Lot and Orkney Boys Singing (as we know from my terrible sobbing about them singing rounds when I got asked about “Sons and Daughters”).

This is so precious. This is so painfully beautiful to my heart. 

Just picture Lot sitting with his boys around a fire after a long day of training, all of them banged up and still sort of carefully licking wounds and a little grumpy. And Mordred—Mordred who so rarely gets to be ‘good’ or ‘right’ or not just a little bit off compared to his older brothers—just slowly carefully cautiously edges forward until he’s leaning against the King’s shoulder veeeery slightly and ask in the tiniest tiny voice if they can sing something. And all the other boys try to play it cool because they’re older and they’re thinking about grown-up things and they’re terrified to disrupt the way their littlest brother’s eyes are so big.

And Lot knows exactly what’s going on. And Lot doesn’t really care.

So he sweeps Mordred up properly under his arm and starts them all off with this rich powerful voice that usually barks through court but sounds so entirely warm when he’s alone with his family like this. And Gawain wonders if this is how to woo and Gaheris and Gareth wonder when their own voices started to diverge from each other and Agravaine wonders if he’s still young enough that he can get away with leaning against Mordred while they’re hidden from the world like this.

And Mordred just carries for his entire life the sensation he feels when he closes his eyes and there’s fire gentle against his cheeks and buzzing in his ears from his brother’s voices and this rumble through his body as he literaly feels Lot’s voice vibrating through his entire being and into what must be the depths of his soul.

[weekly orkney heartbreak headcanons]

[sting-like-jelly]

This one's going to have to be two parts... :) There is no war as ruthless as a snowball fight between the Orkney brothers. All alliances are broken and no oath is sacred once the snow starts flying. Gawain’s fortresses are impenetrable works of art – until Gareth and Gaheris wheel out the catapult they’ve secretly been working on for the past month (with copious amounts of help from Morgause, but shh, their brothers don't need to know) and several large chunks of ice...

…Agravaine doesn’t believe in walling himself in and prefers to launch guerilla attacks on his siblings, then disappear back into the undergrowth, which works great until he forgets that Mordred climbs trees better than a squirrel and has absolutely no qualms about dropping a few tons of snow on his brother’s head.

After slight technical delays, writers-cube has once again successfully destroyed my heart completely.

Because on the one hand this makes me feel better about all the snow I've been buried under for the past... who knows how long.

But on the other hand: Orkney.

Like on the one hand Gareth and Gaheris bickering and bantering and falling over themselves in a happy tangle putting together a catapult. On the one hand, Mordred being praised for being tiny and lithe rather than brawny like his brothers because he can shimmy up high and just chittering like a happy little critter all the way up the top. On the one hand Agravaine tamping snow down hard onto the top of his helmet so he can peek over the tops of snow banks. On the one hand Gawain pestering Lot to talk to him about castles and Lot getting excited that Gawain is taking an interest in this incredibly practical thi--oh, no, he's building another fortress from snow half the size of the actual castle why.

But on the other hand: Orkney. And Camlann.

[weekly orkney heartbreak headcanons]

[sting-like-jelly]

Gaheris goes to the beach every morning to look for groatie buckies (aka cowries). More often than not he comes back empty handed, but every now and then he’ll come running up the path with a few tiny, precious shells in his fingers that he’ll add to the growing collection in his room. When he was little, Gawain used to tell him the shells would bring good fortune. And Gaheris knows a day is coming when he and his family will need all the good fortune they can get… *apologizes and runs away*

…Tumblr, tell me when writers-cube messages me. Don’t make me wait a week to check my inbox and see you didn’t notify me. Rude.

Almost as rude as thIS HEADCANON YOU CRUEL HUMAN PERSON.

Ugh these boys why do they do my heart like this. Can you just imagine for the rest of their lives all of them finding shells hidden in all their things. Like just suddenly one day they shift their cloak or they shake their boot or they open an old pouch they haven’t looked through in a while and boom, all of a sudden, one of Gaheris’ shells just clatters across the floor.

Also can you imagine all the boys calling them ‘Gaheris’ shells’ for their entire lives. Like even Gawain, despite the fact he clearly knows exactly what they are. It doesn’t come up much, but all of them just instinctively call them that. 

Babies. /o\

[weekly orkney heartbreak headcanons]

[sting-like-jelly]

Morgause absolutely loves cats (Lot likes to tease her it’s because she’s a witch and claims he’d rather have a wolfhound any day, but Morgause has seen him find a string and play with that big tabby he calls Odin for hours). Anyways, if anyone in Orkney has unwanted kittens, they know they can bring them to the Queen and they’ll be well looked after, and if anyone needs a cat to deal with a rodent infestation at home, all they have to do is go up to the castle and ask...

What a nice and completely adorable headcanon you have there, writers-cube. It would be a shame if something were to

Okay but other than this being the sweetest sweet thing to ever sweet, let’s also talk about the boys. Let’s talk about how all the Orkney flock were just constantly covered in dander and constantly picking short little hairs off each other and generally walk with just this tiniest bit of a hesitant step in their own home because there are so many tails everywhere just flipping everywhere and if you step on one there’s a chain reaction wherein it sounds like some sort of demons have descended because of the yowling.

And of course also can we talk about the boys looking for their mother’s affection in this odd association when they’re young. Gawain having this soft sort of purr in his voice when he’s talking about his family. Gaheris and Gareth always stretching in this odd exaggerated fashion that borders slightly on the unnatural. Agravaine sitting with Morgause while they talk and just slowly sinking into these awkward piles of limbs and twisted spine to get his head on her lap or shoulder. And Mordred having these instinctively different reactions that he can’t explain because he sees this something in all his brothers but he chases and he snaps and he goes in for hugs too hard and he needs this constant reassurance and someone off-handedly and very affectionately calls him a little wolf-pup one day and he just bursts completely into tears because he doesn’t know what he’s right but he knows that’s wrong.

And so Morgause starts calling him ‘kitten’ when he’s having a bad day.

[weekly orkney heartbreak headcanons]

[sting-like-jelly]

Morgause made sure that all the boys could cook to some extent, but Gawain tends to overcook everything and Mordred undercooks everything and no one really trusts Gaheris or Gareth within ten feet of a fire after that one incident with an exploding grouse that cost Lot his eyebrows. Agravaine, though. Agravaine is a regular culinary genius. There have been wars fought about his blueberry scones. Battles waged over his fish soup. Kay absolutely hates him because he won't share his recipes...

How dare you.

How very dare you.

(But also can we talk then about Agravaine and Mordred, okay. Can we talk about Agravaine holding Mordred’s hand back every time they cooked together with this soft little “wait for it” because he hates to see his brother squirm but he knows a little patience is so much of what the other boy needs because he can’t stop Mordred from throwing himself into battle with older taller stronger boys and he can’t stop Mordred from pushing himself too hard and he can’t stop Mordred from going to that terrifying withdrawn place he does even as a little one now and then because destiny is choking him far too tight to breathe and all he can do is retreat

but he can stop Mordred from undercooking his goddamn fish.

And so for the rest of their lives, it’s this weird code between them.  They bicker and they have different opinions but every now and then Agravaine just reaches over and grabs his brother’s hand and everything actually stops for a moment because Mordred’s been so well trained to take it as a sign that his brother is the expert on what’s happening and he just needs to wait for a moment so everything will turn out right

ugh why do i have to cry all the time)

[weekly orkney heartbreak headcanons]

[sting-like-jelly]

And here's your daily Orkney headcanon! There’s no such thing as one sick Orkney boy. If one brother gets sick, they all do. Like, they know Gaheris has a fever, but he’s their brother. Shouldn’t they be there for him in case he needs anything? Won’t he get better faster if they sit around his bed telling jokes? What’s the point in playing outside if he has to stay in the castle? And pretty soon Morgause is nursing five sick boys, but she can’t quite bring herself to be angry with them about it…

Yes this is exactly what I wanted to come back to Tumblr for: writers-cube making me sob grossly about Orkney. Holy crumbs.

Leave me here with the image of every Orkney boy scrambling into the same bed even after they start turning into these ridiculous lanky teens and the pile is terrible and they all complain because gross you coughed in my face you complete and utter arse and just all passing out together in that fever-sleep you get like a pile of ducks. A GIANT ORKNEY PILE OF DUCKS.

THAT IS ALL I WANT IN LIFE.

[weekly orkney heartbreak headcanons]

[sting-like-jelly]

writers-cube replied to your post:"Sons and Daughters" reminds you of Mordred?

Ahhh omg that is so adorably heartbreaking!! (Also I just listened to “Sons and Daughters” for the first time and now I am drowning in an ocean of Orkney bros feels…)

I have to admit, I don't know much about these The Decemberists folk, but it's a really good song and I'm so glad to forever douse it in Orkney feels for so many lovely people. \o/

Also just. If you ever feel like sobbing into the chasm of feeling things about Lot and his gaggle of boys, please always come to my inbox.

[sting-like-jelly]

Of the four elements of earth, water, fire, and air, which one fits Mordred the most?

…no why would you aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

okay I can do this. Aaaaah.

So on the one hand, Orkney is a place of earth. Grounding, stable, practical. Morgause and Lot raise their boys to be like earth. They do their best with Mordred as well, because it doesn’t matter whose son he is or how he came to be; he’s theirs and he’s Orkney’s and he’s going to be fine.

But he isn’t fine. He’s never fine. And his mother holds him tight to try and crush out the flames and his brothers surround him with their arms when he screams in the night and he lies on the ground as a child with his face pressed to the dirt to try and hold himself still for once in his life but he can’t because he was born in fire and he lives in fire and every day is a fight to not let the fire take every last piece of him for itself.

So for me the answer is somewhere in between the two. Scorched earth.

I’m going with scorched earth.