cxradoc:
They sound so sure. They always do. From the very first moment that Xenophilius laid eyes on her, they behaved as if they knew her down to her very soul. They were sure their first meeting was destined, too lost souls in the night, drawn to one another through the dark. And she couldn’t deny the spark of connection she had felt then. They made her feel found, unearthed, like something people would want to hoard for themselves. Their voice now, quiet and intense and earth-shattering, like someone in prayer at an all-night vigil. It shakes her, almost as much as the words do.
They sound so sure, and Caradoc wants to let herself get caught up in it, so she does. Xeno isn’t wrong about the things they say, the ways in which people raise themselves up on pedestals. Dumbledore acted like a God, like he was playing a chess match with all of their lives. Caradoc had been nothing to him but another voice on the other side, a girl with a wand and the spirit of a warrior. She thought now that he always knew how it would end, always knew that she’d never be able keep herself from snapping eventually.
She wants to give them the things they seek, she wants to do it so badly. Power. Clarity. A peace fo mind that she can only imagine. She wondered sometimes what she would feel, if she ever placed their diadem on her head. Would she see the world through new eyes? Would she understand the things that plagued her in the night? Would the world become something clean and crystalline, sprawling out before her in endless possibilities. Other times, she wondered if Xeno wasn’t as good for that as any crown could be. They made her feel changed, after all. And in moments like this, she felt as if the ever present fog in her mind was being lifted. She didn’t feel scared. She didn’t feel helpless. She didn’t feel alone. Caradoc Dearborn wasn’t a ghost, on nights like this, and neither was Xenophilius Lovegood.
Sometimes, she feels like she’s been looking for them forever.
When they finish speaking, she feels herself exhaling a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. A shuddering thing, something full of so much wonder. The cogs are turning inside their mind, plans being made on an invisible map. And then the gears stop, her offer hanging in the air for a moment while Xeno processes it.
A smile, then, blossoms on her face. A soft thing, giddy. She ducks her head for a moment to mask it, grateful for the relatively dim light in the room. “Good. Good.” And she’s grateful. Wordlessly grateful, that they’re willing to do this beside her. Caradoc wants to reach up, brush her fingers against their face, clenches their hand a little firmer instead. She feels like the hero of this story, for once in her life. Feels like she was born for more than she ever believed. It was all practice, then, to make her strong. Doesn’t the hero always have to suffer before they can come into their full potential? Don’t they always reach the lowest of their lows before the climb to the greatest heights?
Her voice trembles, just the slightest bit, as she carries on, raises her head again to look at them. “You can be my Merlin then. Lead me on an epic quest, oh wise and powerful one.” The slightest hint of a tease, though it doesn’t sully the greater sentiment of the words. “I’ll follow, if you can tell me where to start. Just promise not to be too disappointed if I don’t turn out the way you expected I would.” She tries not to let the last part sound sad, tries not to fall into a pit in her mind that would have her believe the disappointment is unavoidable. If she’s going to paint herself as a King of legend, she ought to have the confidence to go with it, even if it’s just a game of pretend played in a room of that barely exists.
The smile on her face at their response sends a warmth through their body that perhaps they should wish could be wholly attributed to the blazing fire across from them, but no, it’s her. It’s always her. It’s a feeling that they had forgotten was possible, over the long months since they had lost their partner and their clarity. So wrapped up in the hunt for anything that might lead them to the answers, so encased in their own thoughts, they had allowed themself to forget how good it can be to be outside of them. They tried, of course, offered their assistance to the good fight, but none of the others were as prepared to go as far as they were, and so it hadn’t been enough to distract them, or better ground them.
This, though? Her smile, full of a pure joy they rarely see, her hand in theirs, warm and soft, grip firm and certain, it is more than enough to keep them on their feet, more than enough to clear their mind and make them certain that this is exactly where the pain and confusion was meant to lead them. They don’t necessarily believe in destiny the way those lovers of divination among them do, but they’ve seen too much to doubt that the universe moves the way it does for specific reasons. There’s a reason that their paths crossed in the corridor just outside the door that night, a reason something sang in their soul when they looked in her eyes. And now, it is their time to influence that themselves, together.
It’s a thrilling feeling, to suddenly be given purpose again. Perhaps it shouldn’t be so simple, to look at a ring they barely understood, without a true connection given yet to the very thing they had been obsessing over for years, and to make the decision to follow that string. But when they look at Caradoc, see the mirror of their own being in hers, and feel the strange, unexplainable connection between them, it’s impossible not to follow the pull. They’re certain her purpose and theirs are intricately entangled, that following the path set ahead with a simple symbol will lead them both to what they need. And in the meantime, this, here, is more than enough to sustain them, they think, perhaps a little selfishly.
So simple to be brave, to be something beyond the fear of humanity, when not even Death will be able to stand in her way, their way.
A small, knowing smile spread across their lips, mirroring hers, as she calls them her Merlin. That they are certain is an honor they don’t yet deserve, but they’re also certain they will do much of anything to live up to that role for her. “I suppose, then, that I am going to help make you King. And a glorious king you shall be,” Xeno hums, raising an eyebrow. The teasing doesn’t diminish the trust behind the words, or the hint of her own doubt at the mention of disappointing them.
“There is very little you could do that would ever disappoint me, Caradoc, that I promise. I revel in the unexpected, as long as it is you,” they say, with a slight shrug, as if that’s that. In their mind, it is. And perhaps for some proof of that truth, perhaps some proof of something else their finger hasn’t quite landed on yet, they bring her hand in theirs to their lips, ghost them across the ring, brushing her knuckle.
“We start at the very beginning, I think. We must find King Arthur her sword.”















