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RULES
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DISCLAIMERS
FICS SHORTER THAN FIVE PARTS DO NOT HAVE A SEPERATE MASTERLIST! There is no reason (in my eyes) to make one, so all parts will be directly on the series masterlist.
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Following these rules will make my job a lot easier for all of us. Thank you for understanding! /~[]~\ /~[]~\
a/n: I do not know any of the characters’ actors personally, nor do I own the rights to their characters. What’s written below the tag is a work of fiction and should subsequently be treated as such. I am essentially using the actors as a face-claim and almost never, a name-claim. I am creating my own character and using the actor / character as a secondary fictional character, using features for details. I do not and never would directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my own writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. Thank you for understanding and if you do not understand, fuck off, please and not thank you.
Newsie Headcanon
THE STORY OF NEWSIES LIVE: KID BLINK
So…Newsie Live: Kid Blink
He does not wear an eyepatch on his face (most likely so it is easier for Andy to dance)
We get to sea him directly about 57 minutes into the show, where he is retrieving his block of papers from Wiesel
But, God damn it(‘scuse my language), he is a scab at this point in time, but we never get to know the canon reason he does not where an eyepatch, so I came up with a Headcanon about why exactly the newsies call him Kid Blink
FLASHBACK
Blink was young when he joined the street rats as a newsie, maybe 7 at the time
His father had been absent for most of his life
He lived with his mother who worked in a brothel in New Jersey
She was an amazing mom, never even giving a hint to any of her clients that Blink (Or if we’re using his birth name, Mason) existed
His special hiding spot was the large cupboard in the corner of the brothel owner’s office
(she was a lovely woman who did not even bat an eye when Blink’s mother showed up with him)
Blink’s mother was paranoid and constantly cautious—she could never live with herself if someone reported her, and the police were sent to take Blink away from her
So, she taught him morse code so they could communicate id there were any customers in hearing radius
Blink became so talented in the silent language that the two could have full conversation by the time he was 4 years old
MOVING FORWARD
Blink’s mother sometimes had aggressive customers, but nothing would ever compare to the last one
As it had turned out, Blink’s never-present father had left, running away to the Bronx and taking a new wife
The new woman became pregnant and the two were happy
Until she and the baby girl passed away in the middle of the birth due to bleeding complications
Newspapers tell the rest of the story: Blink’s father went ballistic when he heard the news
He grabbed a pistol he kept hidden in a couch-side cabinet and did not hesitate to shoot the assisting midwife
The shot alerted the head midwife and she appeared in the doorway, but before she could even get a sound out, she too, was shot in the head, and dies instantly
The man ran in the dead of night, having discovered from an old gambling buddy where his ex-wife and son had disappeared to
Blink’s mother did not have any customers, and as a result, they liked to sit in her room upstairs speaking in morse code when they heard a scuffle downstairs
There was a series of pops before a stomping on the stairs echoed throughout the house
Blink’s father appeared in the doorway, the pistol in his hand and multiple specks of blood splattered across his lips and face
Blink was told to run
He did so, but thought his mother had been behind him the entire time
He heard a deafening pop, and suddenly, he had been knocked over by the dead weight of his mother’s body
He screamed, a shrill cry as he burst into tears, struggling to push his mother off of his bruising form
His father approached him next but was tackled from behind by a gaggle of police constables
He was taken away and Blink was lifted away from his mother, kicking and crying out for his ‘mommy,’ he just wanted his mommy
He began to calm down, and so, the policemen holding his arms loosened their grips and eventually, let him walk freely
Blink did not hesitate to run; in fact, he jumped out the two-story window, and landed on the fire escape
He scaled the ladders as fast as he could through the many alleyways
All he could hear were the muffled shouts calling for him to come back
Everything else was just…silent, he could not pinpoint what was happening to him, but all sound came back in full force when he finally collapsed in an alley 3 miles from the brothel
Blink spent another few weeks traveling through the state and eventually made it into the busier part of New York City, Manhattan, to be more specific
He never got word if his father had been arrested or not, which made him paranoid that he hadn’t and was free to walk the streets and find him one day
Everything’s legal in Jersey, am I right?
Blink eventually stumbled his way into Newsie Square about midday, meaning no newsies were there to see him
He went to look at the World Distribution Center gates but before he could get past the Horace Greely Statue, he was tugged by his collar
Two older boys (about 9 and 10, and looking much too similar to not be related) stood in front of him, looking menacing but nervous at the same time, as if they were regretting what they were about to do
The two brothers / cousins—Blink did not know— roughed him up a bit and giving himself a black eye and a shallow cut on his lip and cheek
Before the one who had been called Morris, could kick his sternum again, a group of shadows appeared at the alley entrance
A young newsie, his face and arms strew from paint smears, had seen the fight, and ran off to find his leaders
He returned with a group of older boys who approached the trio
Morris and Oscar (as Morris had named him) stood slack as they looked at the newsies before they moved away from Blink
No one noticed the way Blink scooted backwards into a corner
Oscar and Morris left the alley in a rush, being chased down the street by a few younger newsies behind them
The boy with the paint on him was the first one to approach Blink, joining him in the corner by sitting crisscross in front of the timid boy
He introduced himself as Jack—near ten at the time
Jack asked Blink a few questions, but became baffled when all Blink would give as an answer was blinking his eyes
It was most likely that Blink was saying SOS or some other message relating to him desperately wanting some form of help, but Jack did not understand
One of the older boys got the hint that Blink would not answer any questions he could not shake his head to, and bent down next to Jack, asking Blink if he had a family, and after telling them no, Blink agreed to head back to the Newsboy’s Lodging House with them
Blink followed them out of the alley and was greeted by another small newsboy
He wore a grey flat cap and fiddled with a large cigar he pulled from his overshirts pocket
The boy introduced himself as Racetrack—a strange name, he later explained, he was christened with when he was found to be following an older boy to the Sheepshead Races every few days after selling
Race asked what Blink’s name was, not knowing he did not speak
When Blink only coded SOS once more, Race locked at him, astonished; he thought Blink’s way of speaking was amazing
The large group of boys tumbled their way down the cobblestone streets back to the lodging house, Blink on another boy’s—Spoons was his name—back when Race stopped in his tracks before grinning goofily and shaking his head, his curly blonde hair jumping with his glee
“I know! Wese should call ya’ Blink! Cause ya’ don’t talk, only blink ya’ eyes to ansah.”
Apparently, Race was a God, because all the boys started cheering and, once they got through the house up to the bunk room, Spoons plopped Blink down on a hard mattress and slapped an oversized cap on his head
Blink had no complaints with the name, instead smiling and welcoming it over his birth name any day
Most of the younger boys only called him simply ‘Blink,’ but most of the older boys coined the name, ‘Kid Blink’
Blink stayed mute for nearly a year, before he finally uttered his first words to the newsboys
He explained his birth name, but only his first, but all the boys already called him Blink so when someone randomly called him Mason, all the others were just like, “Who?”
Years go by, and he stays a newsie, becoming best friends with a boy name Mush—named for his simpleton-like comments at times—and they stayed selling partners for a long time before they became too old to sell together
a/n: I do not know any of the characters’ actors personally, nor do I own the rights to their characters. What’s written below the tag is a work of fiction and should subsequently be treated as such. I am essentially using the actors as a face-claim and almost never, a name-claim. I am creating my own character and using the actor / character as a secondary fictional character, using features for details. I do not and never would directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my own writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. Thank you for understanding and if you do not understand, fuck off, please and not thank you.
MASTERPOST | AO3 | FANFICTION.NET
Sweat dripped down her forehead and onto her shirt as she worked across the filthy kitchen counter, dusty clumps of flour covering every inch of her arms and the hands she worked deep into the lump of dough. A few the gladers had suggested bread with soup tomorrow, and of course Lee would honor that wish.
She looked up as the dining hall curtains were pushed open, Minho walking through with a solemn look etched across the tanned skin of his face.
“Morning,” he greeted, failing to sound as cheery for the day as he liked.
It was not difficult to guess what was going on, it only happened after every banishing, but was specifically important in this case. The keeper of the runners and leader of the Glade would be forced to run the maze and retrace a banished boy’s footsteps. And being keeper, Minho was the unfortunate soul chosen for the nerve racking task.
Lee sighed at Minho’s expression, leaning across her table to grab a wet towel. She wiped down her arms before walking around the back of the counter to embrace his in a tight hug. She was a bit shorter, but that was what she liked about herself. She wrapped her arms around his torso, his lifting to circle her neck. One of his hands gripped a handful of her hair, while the other fell to her waist and allowed his fingers to rub small circles on her hip.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked him, voice muffled by the fabric of his typical mint green button-up.
Minho’s answer was instantaneous, as if he had practiced reciting it in a mirror for hours, “I have to.”
“I know—I also know that Ben was our friend.” She pulled her head away to looked into his almond eyes as she spoke. “You shouldn’t have to do this.”
Minho nodded; he understood, he really did. But someone had to do it and being a keeper had its fair share of disadvantages.
“I know. I just needed to say goodbye before we left.”
Lee smiled and buried her face back into Minho’s shirt, squeezing his middle tightly. “Come back to me in one piece?” She asked him.
“I always do.”
She pulled away from the hug finally and glanced down at the empty pack Minho had dropped when he came through the door. “Do you need your lunch?”
“And Alby’s—he wanted to give us a few minutes alone,” Minho explained. Despite his sassy exterior, his cheeks went pink at the thought.
He went to follow Lee behind the counter, but she spun around and stopped him with a wave of her pointer finger.
“Nope. Cooks only, I’m afraid.”
She could tell Minho was debating whether to argue with her, so she gave another wag of her finger and turned to grab two brown paper bags by the sink.
“Here you are. And remember—”
“Don’t let the grievers sting,” Minho finished for her, jokingly rolling her eyes, and groaning when Lee jabbed her elbow into the skin below his ribs. “We’ll be fine, I’ll see you at six. I love you.” Minho pressed loving kisses to her forehead, right cheek, and the ‘best for last,’ her lips.
“Love you too!” Lee called out the doorway as Minho left the way, he came in. She went back to her dough but not before making sure to watch through the kitchen window, seeing Minho and Alby meet up outside the doors with Newt, the second in command giving them a proper sendoff.
***
Hours had passed since the day began. The rare sighting of rain had been confirmed around three in the afternoon—and it now pours down on the Glade as the gladers took cover underneath any roof they could reach first. Chuck, Newt, and Thomas stood next to Lee in the dining all, Lee handing out small bits of the bread for the group to snack on.
Thomas had begun asking multiple questions, most of which pertained to Lee’s boyfriend and best friend currently running the maze surrounding them.
“They should be back by now,” he declared, stepping back from where he had been watching the doors intently, “What happens if they don’t make it?”
Lee looked to Newt, who was already staring at her, before he answered Thomas with a simple, “They’re gonna make it.”
“What happens if they don’t?” Thomas questioned the British boy again.
Feeling fed up with Thomas’ constant nagging, Lee decided to answer the greenie. “They’re gonna make it,” she said, though she did not tell Thomas he was not wrong. Minho and Alby should have been back nearly half an hour ago.
Thomas watched her walk back towards the kitchen door, still confused as to why no one would tell him what would happen if things went wrong. “How do you know?” He pestered further.
Lee stopped in her tracks, not allowing herself to turn around and show her watering eyes. “Because maybe I should have a little faith in my boyfriend.”
Five minutes turned into ten, and ten turned to twenty, until all the gladers were gathered in front of the maze doors. Lee pushed to the front easily, as everyone knew who she and Minho were to each other, and they could clearly see how much the time had her worried.
Newt, Thomas, and Chuck were with her at the front of the crowd, waiting anxiously for Minho and Alby to turn the final corner and run back into the Glade in the nick of time. Lee pulled Newt’s watch up to her face; it was nearing seven-o-clock and there had been no sign of them, not even the distant sound of footsteps.
Suddenly, as the hands struck seven, the doors began to rumble.
Lee was pulled into Newt’s side, both trying to comfort the other. Those were their best friends, and they were about to die in front of them. Newt shifted a bit, and Lee hugged his side as he placed an arm around her shoulder.
“There!” Thomas shouted, pointing into the ivy-covered corridor.
Lee noticed the list of things wrong the moment they—or rather, Minho—turn the corner: Alby was limp in Minho’s arms, a small splotch of red on his tan shirt visible from where Lee was standing. They all clearly heard Minho’s screams as he realized the doors were closing—he knew he had been cutting it close, but he hoped he would have made it soon enough.
“Something’s wrong.” Newt stared, confused, at the tearing scene.
The group continued to watch Minho struggle to hold up Alby’s weight and run at the same time.
“Come on, Minho!” Chuck shouted in encouragement, striking the others out of their stupors and, they too, begin to shout for Minho just run.
“You gotta leave him!” She heard Gally shout.
By this point, Minho had dropped Alby on his back and was dragging him by the ankles. Lee, until now, had stayed silent, only staring into Minho’s pain-filled eyes that looked back into hers.
She shouted through the doors, “Run, Minho! You can make it!” She pushed Newt away but stayed in the same spot. “Run! Minho, just leave him!” She screamed; voice shrill.
The voices eventually faded into the background, becoming nothing but white noise in the back of Lee’s mind. She was only focused on the crying boy before her, whilst still trying to stem her own tears from falling.
Minho finally gave up and stopped, accepting his fate by falling to his knees, Alby still unconscious behind where he was kneeling.
He tilted his head up to Lee, and mouths, just softly enough for it to almost be unknown, “I love you.”
Before the walls could close completely, Thomas broke away from Newt and the rest of the gladers, sprinting between the thinning gap between the walls. Boys attempt to grab the back of his shirt or arm, Lee included, but he was already halfway to the other side.
“Thomas, no!” Chuck screamed out for his older friend.
The doors sealed shut the moment Thomas reached the corridor, and Lee could hear Minho call her name as she did the same with his.
“Minho!”
“Lee!”
She ran into the walls as they shut with the familiar resounding boom, falling to the dirt below her feet, sobbing openly. Newt managed to catch her before she could hit the ground and hugged her tight, resting his own tired head on top of hers.
Lee felt Newt’s head adjust slightly after a moment, before he said, “Gally, what are you doing? Where are you going?”
She looked up as well, however tears still blurred her vision, altering everyone to look like swirled blobs, but her vision was not impaired. She clearly heard Gally say, “They aren’t coming back—might as well cross them off the wall before the doors open in the morning.” Silence followed.
“No.”
Everyone’s attention transferred from Gally to Lee, seeing her pull away from Newt and stand from the ground, not bothering to wipe her knees off. Instead, she wiped under her nose. She inched closer to Gally, not enough for all the gladers to notice, but just far enough that she heard footsteps—she turned her head to see Frypan and her brother coming up behind her.
“Why are we crossing them off the wall now? We wait until morning; as we’ve always done,” she said, knowing what she said was true.
Gally raised his pencil-thin eyebrows at Lee, rolling his eyes with a scoff when he realized he was serious.
“Listen, girly, just because you’re Minho’s little girlfriend, does not mean he won’t die out there. He’s just as doomed as any other runner who never made it back. Like Ben.”
Lee noticeably flinched at Ben’s name; hearing Winston call out Gally from behind her. “Shut up, Gally!” Her brother shouted.
“He’s not going to die,” she denied, shaking her head at the grass, “and neither will Alby or Thomas.”
This time, Gally stepped closer to her, his strides much larger than hers were. He shrugged off the two builders who attempted to stop him.
“Did you not hear a word I said? They’re dead. Now, you can go make Minho a cute little tombstone for him in the Deadheads, but—”
Gally did not even have the time to finish with his taunting spew of insults before Lee launched herself at him. As soon as she moved, Frypan and Winston yelled out in surprise and rushed to grab her. They had seen her shaking but did not know it was from rage or anxiety.
The each managed to grip an arm and loosely pulled her back until Frypan let her go and Winston pulled her into a hug.
“He’s gone,” Lee cried over and over, burying her head into Winston’s neck as he rubbed her shoulders and held her tight.
“I know,” Winston shushed her. He attempted to walk her towards the Homestead, but she refused, fighting his stance, until he let her go.
Lee walked through the gladers, them parting as she walked through them. She stopped in front of the walls and sat down.
“Lee—” Newt started but hushed himself by the quick shake of her head.
Gally scoffs once more, leaving with the rest of the builders and most of the sloppers after the glares Winston and Newt sent them.
The rest of the gladers eventually made their way to wait with Lee. Most whispered to their friends that they will be back with pillows and blankets for them all. Newt sent Chuck to retrieve his and Newt’s while Winston left for his and Lee’s, not forgetting to grab the sentimental quilt Lee and Minho had in their shared room.
***
Night had fallen; most of the gladers had fallen asleep hours ago, but Lee stayed awake, her short attempts at rest plagued by terrors. Instead, she waited and watched the maze with scrutiny in her eyes, minimal tears falling, but she stayed silent to not wake her friends sleeping nearby.
***
Morning arrives faster than expected.
Winston was the first to wake up before the doors opened, seeing Lee awake and waiting. Her knees are pulled up to her chest with her knees resting between them. He made a few noises as he sits up, so she knew he was awake and scooted next to her, not touching her, only sitting, and watching.
“He’s gonna be fine,” he said to her after a few minutes.
Lee does not say anything, and the two remain in silence.
Newt wakes up next, gently shifting Chuck’s head of curls off his lap before he sat on Lee’s other side. He checked his watch immediately, showing Lee as he was one of the few to have allowed them.
6:47
Thirteen minutes until the doors open.
The minutes passed slowly, as the boys woke up few by few, and the builders and sloppers who had left last night arrived, until the clock stuck 6:58, and the last few are being urgently woken by friends.
“They’re not gonna make it,” Gally mumbled from his spot, quieting when they head the loud rumbling of the doors opening.
Lee and Winston jumped up with Chuck just barely in front of them. The doors fully open and all that stares back at them is the corridor, cut-down piles of ivy on the ground inside. No sign of Minho, Alby, or Thomas.
“No,” Lee refused when Winston went to hug her.
She looked over her shoulder to see Newt pulling Chuck away from the doors, mumbling to the young boy, “I told you, Chuck. They’re not coming back.”
No one could do much more than move away from the maze and let people grieve. Clint, Jeff, and Zart give Winston pats on his shoulder and smile pitifully at Lee before they move on to do their jobs.
Before they could get very far, Zart turned around, maybe for just a final confirmation, but what he said, made all the gladers turn around and Lee and Winston lift their heads.
“No way.”
Minho and Thomas, together, carried Alby between them, gasping and struggling for air as they went as fast as they could, pulled forward by the cheers of their friends in front of them.
Lee stood quiet and moved out of the way when they finally stepped onto the dirt, laying Alby down with the help of Clint and Jeff before they collapse to their knees. Minho looked for Lee but was not able to see her.
Chuck stared at the runner and dumbass in front of him. “You saw a griever?” He asked the two.
Thomas nodded, still panting. “Yeah, I saw one.”
“He didn’t just see it,” Minho shook his head, still searching for his girlfriend. “He killed it.”
Everyone stared at Thomas in shock—in all the time they had been trapped in the Glade, no one, no one, had ever killed a griever.
Minho, however, ignored the silence and climbed to his feet, waving off Newt and Thomas’ concerns for him to rest.
“Shut up, shuck faces. Where’s Lee?” He asked, the million dollar question stuck at the front of his mind, and it was not leaving anytime soon.
The gladers all looked to where Winston and Lee were stood, Winston letting a tear fall and Lee gasping to stop her crying.
“Lee,” Minho breathed out, relieved at the very sight of her.
“Minho,” Lee choked, running straight through the crowd into her boyfriend’s arms.
Minho ignored the stinging back in his back when he did so, lifting Lee into his arms. He fell back when his knees buckled below him but neither of them cared, they only held tighter to the other as they cried out each other’s name.
After a moment of them embracing, Minho looked up from where he buried his face in Lee’s hair and saw Winston above them. Winston’s hand ran through his own hair, tears falling down his face from seeing his honorary brother alive.
“Winston,” Minho said, cut off from his sniffling, and pulled the boy into a group hug. His arms went over Lee and Winston’s backs, and they do the same.
Minho made it. He made it back to Lee, and he made it back to the Glade.
a/n: I do not know any of the charactors’ actors personally, nor do I own the rights to their characters. What’s written below the tag is a work of fiction and should subsequently be treated as such. I am essentially using the actors as a face-claim and almost never, a name-claim. I am creating my own character and using the actor / character as a secondary fictional character, using features for details. I do not and never would directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my own writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. Thank you for understanding and if you do not understand, fuck off, please and not thank you.
MASTERPOST | AO3 | FANFICTION.NET
“I do not deserve you,” he heard Minho murmur through a tired huff, his low voice husked over from exhaustion. The runner kept a secure grip on Y/N’s waist, pulling him a small bit closer before relaxing with a content sigh.
Y/N was sure Minho did not mean for him to hear, but he responded anyway.
“Mm, but I love you anyway.”
He felt Minho’s grip tighten, and tensed when the runner shifted in his position, settling back down when Minho placed a warm kiss on the back of his neck.
Y/N loved moments like this: the way the heels of Minho’s face dragged on the stairs as he struggled to get up the minimal steps of the Homestead, how he could see the other boy’s eyes drooping at dinner after he had had a long day of running.
Minho struggled with his pajamas when he was too exhausted, most of the time settling into the mattress with a bare chest and a pair of shorts. Y/N loved when Minho would make him jump when coming up from behind and hugging him gently, his muscular forearms wrapping around the thinner boy’s middle. At that point, he too would be pulled onto the bed, already wishing the two could sleep the rest of the week away.
“You’re warm,” Minho mumbled. Y/N did not even have to look to know his eyes were closed.
Y/N shuffled out of Minho’s arms—shortly ignoring the tired whines—and twisted around so the boys were face to face. Minho, seeming to understand the hint, rolled onto his back, and pulled Y/N on top of his chest. He buried his face into Minho’s rising-and-falling chest, inhaling deeply into the scarred skin. Minho tangled one hand in Y/N’s medium-length hair, pushing down on his head whenever he twisted, while the other rested on the small of his back.
“Never leave me.” Y/N’s voice drifted in and out of consciousness, but he managed.
summary: the young maid tries her hardest to shield Arthur from a bandit’s crossbow attack—things go wrong, and Lancelot is left to pick up the pieces…
word count: 729
pairing: knights of the round table / fem!merlin, platonic pairing, focuses on Merlin and Lancelot
warnings: TW, blood, mentions of violence, major character death, suicide, grieving and depressed lancelot
tags: BBC, bbc, SCREW BBC, merlin writing, merlin imagine, merlin, bbc merlin, merlin emrys, lancelot, fem!merlin, Arthur Pendragon, gwen pendragon, leon, percival, gwaine, elyan, gauis, Camelot, knights of camelot, knights of the round table, bad writing, i am sad, this made me feel things, i am crying
a/n: I do not know any of the actors personally, nor do I own them or their characters. What’s written below is fiction and should be treated as such. I am essentially using them as a name-claim and face-claim. I’m creating my own character and using the actors as background characters, and just using their name and features for details. I do not directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only.
MASTERPOST | AO3 | FANFICTION.NET
“Calm down, Merlin—calm down,” Lancelot murmured tearfully, forcing himself to avert his eyes away from the periodic spurts of his best friend’s blood seeping through the cracks between his clenched fingers.
“Lance…”
“You’re going to be okay; just stay awake. Please?” The loyal knight could to nothing more than encourage her to keep her eyes open, but it was not working. He was unaware of whether he was reassuring Merlin or himself. It did not matter.
“Someone get Gauis!” He could faintly hear Arthur behind them, yelling at someone—anyone—to gather the physician.
“Guess they—they got a l—lucky shot… huh, Lance?” Merlin struggled to get the words out, her voice stuttering with cracks.
Lance nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he shook his head. “No! You’re going to be just fine. Please, Merlin, please!”
Her body gave a violent jerk, drops of blood flying from her stained tunic and splattering against Lancelot’s wet cheek. The blood mixed with his tears immediately, flowing down and dripping onto the cobblestone bricks his knees were resting on.
Merlin spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so tired, Lance.”
Her eyes shut involuntarily, and just as Lancelot believe her to be already gone, they fluttered again, folding into think slits from the glaringly bright sun.
The rest of the knights, along with Gwen, stood behind the heartbreaking duo, the latter sobbing into the shoulder of her brother’s chainmail whilst the others had gone silent, tears falling down their cheeks. Arthur seemed to be the worst of the group.
Every citizen in the courtyard watched the knight breakdown over the near-gone body of his first true best friend. They had all witnessed the attack; bandits stormed the grounds, pushing and shoving peasants away to rush the king on the steps. One man wielding a crossbow loaded his weapon and aimed. Before anyone could shout for cover, Merlin was tumbling down the steps, a bolt lodged deep in her side.
“Please, Merlin,” Lancelot sobbed for help, “Please.” He did not know what he was begging for at that point, he just needed Merlin to tell him it would be okay.
“’M sorry, Lance. ‘M sorry.” Merlin’s voice was near incomprehensible as her burdening eyes closed for the final time, her aching body dropping limp in the knight’s arms.
“No! No! Merlin!” Lancelot shouted through his choking sniffles at her parted mouth that gave off no breath, her chest that had ceased rising and falling.
He struggled to drag her to his chest when he heard the echoing footsteps, turning to see Leon and Percival making their way towards them.
The senior knight held Lancelot back in a tight embrace, spinning him around to hold the man’s arms at his side while Percival had the job of escorting Merlin’s body through the parting crowd to her and Gauis’ chambers. The shaking in his arms was obvious, but no one said a word.
Lancelot fought to get his arms free, but Leon would not relent on his torso. “Merlin! Merlin, no! Let me go!” All he could do was pound on his friend’s back to get away, but Leon would not budge. He could only hold the broken man in his arms and let his cry.
The day they burned Merlin’s body at the lake or Avalon in front of the whole of Camelot was the hardest for most. They had decided to give her a soldier’s send-off—a unanimous vote for the council after Arthur had stormed out of the room in tears.
The citizens pretended not to notice the way one knight—who was adamant on himself lying her body in the boat—stumbled, shielding her body until he eventually crawled the rest of the way through the grass. The pretended not to notice when he gave up his noble title to live as Merlin did: a laborer. The pretended not to notice when few saw him tearing up while writing a letter on the training field.
However, they did notice when a shrill cry erupted from their queen when she discovered the body suspended from a beam in the armory, hanging from his neck by a rope.
They noticed the tears the rest of the Knights of the Round Table let their tears fall as they gave him a familiar send-off where he once gave Merlin hers.
