in the naked light I saw | teenhood | for cywyllog

[cadcamlan]

He understands where he's going. It's not reassuring, but it's good to know that there's a purpose to his suffering; that his fate is sealed for a purpose, if not exactly as he had wanted it to be. At least knowing made it easier to bear the visions. Made it easier to take control of his mind in the day like Cywyllog had said he could.

Things can go back to normal. He can enjoy this last bit of childhood with someone who won't leave him for knowing his fate. They can relax away from curses and back into stone-skipping, into fort-building.

So he searches the shores for her. He skirts the woods. He wants to laugh with her today, to squeeze her hand and poke her ribs and tug her hair because everything was under control.

She'd be there, right?

Comments

[cywyllog]

Blackmail is always a useful political tool and it seems Mordred is more than willing and able to use it now. But...

"Your concern for me will make him suspicious."

[cadcamlan]

"Suspicious of what?" His strange, bright eyes are flooded with confusion, although much of it is his own. There's such a grip, after all, of the need not to lose her. No one's particularly taught him how to call the emotional imperative.

[cywyllog]

"Why you don't want me to leave." Childhood friendships are one thing. Clinging to them when they should be able to outgrow them is entirely another.

"Why don't you want me to leave?"

[cadcamlan]

"I need you."

There's a word for it. There's a word young men are supposed to apply to young women, no matter how grudgingly he's come to accept Cywyllog is actually a young woman and no longer a girl. His mind doesn't seem to want to settle on it.

[cywyllog]

She smiles slightly, reaching over to brush her fingers across his cheek. "You will make other friends. Or you'll be too busy to notice I'm gone."

[cadcamlan]

"No. Not you." His hand closes over her wrist again, pulling her just a hair closer. "I couldn't replace you."

[cywyllog]

"I wouldn't want you to." She could handle him remembering her only now and then, but not replacing her. Not forgetting her.

[cadcamlan]

"So if I need you and I can't replace, it's..." It wasn't a question. It wasn't an option. He didn't know how else to explain it beyond pulling her hand from his cheek, pressing a fumbling sort of kiss to her palm.

[cywyllog]

"Mordred..." She leans forward, resting her forehead against his. "You can't. We can't."

[cadcamlan]

Of course his mind slips to what hurts the most. "Why? You-- don't feel the same?"

[cywyllog]

"I--" She's never thought about it; not this way. But she knows that the idea of never seeing him again, of having to leave home - him - is something she doesn't want to think about.

And she knows she'll never be able to feel the same way about any man who might become her husband in Orkney.

"No, I do. I don't want to leave you."

[cadcamlan]

It releases a breath he hadn't known he was holding to hear, sets his lips flicking briefly toward a smile before nodding. His forehead presses more firmly to hers. It's far easier to speak with his eyes closed, with the filter of something else over his words.

"So we'll... tell him I love you."

[cywyllog]

Her heart races at his words, for several different reasons. Mostly because he loves her.

He loves her.

"And I love you. I hope he listens."

[cadcamlan]

His mind almost refuses to hear it. Almost manages to twist it into something else, into something different.

His breath is shaky as he nods against her forehead.

"He... has to. It won't-- change just because he doesn't like it."

[cywyllog]

"No, it won't, but he may still send me away." Politics are more important than love, after all. "With luck, he will see the good in this."

[cadcamlan]

"So he'll have both of us or neither." Because now that it's said, now that it's out loud and she's still leaning close to him, how can it be otherwise? How could he not follow her, if only to love her from a distance?

[cywyllog]

"He will not want to give you up. You may be able to make requests." Stern as her father is, he wants his knights as loyal as possible and they're treated extremely well.

[cadcamlan]

"It can't be so much to ask to want-- you, can it?" His hand on hers shifts, twines their fingers together more properly, forehead pressing harder to hers. "You'd... still be solidifying an alliance, aye?"

[cywyllog]

She likes this closeness, this... intimacy.

"I would. I can only pray he will see it that way. But if the gods has us find each other, what else but this would they want for us?"

[cadcamlan]

"They've been more than cruel already." But maybe this is the silver lining. Maybe this is going to work, because the rest of his life is going toward doom. "I can't imagine they'd want to be even moreso."

[cywyllog]

Doom she doesn't want to think about anymore.

"I'm sure they don't mean to be cruel, but there do have to be bright spots. This must be ours."

[cadcamlan]

"If you're my bright spot, I... cannot help but be content." How could he not, if he were allowed to love her?

[cywyllog]

"This should not be all that makes you content." It seems like a lot of responsibility, one she's not used to. Individual attention is still something she's getting accustomed to.

[cadcamlan]

"I'll come to find other things, I'm sure." But for now, there's a fumble of his face leaning a bit closer, pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. "But this seems... the place to start."

[cywyllog]

She lowers her head, trying to hide her smile and the fact that she's blushing profusely. "It's a good place. It feels... right."