Rain in their hearts
Author: 
gilli_ann
Title: Rain in their hearts
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Freya/Merlin, Arthur/Merlin
Character/s: Freya, Merlin
Summary: No rain will wash away their longing or their hopes
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 250
Prompt: 155 Rain
Author's Notes:
Rain in their hearts
Rain whispers across the lake, its calm surface blemished by the endless deluge. The world is a washed-out blur, drenched in tears from the clouds. It's hard to tell where the lake waters end and the air above begins.
Freya swims across from Avalon to the human shore. Sitting on the waterlogged bank, she untangles the snarls in her hair with a fish-bone comb, and binds herself a pretty wreath of pale water lilies.
She gathers cold rain in her hands and sips it. It tastes of sorrow.
On days like these she's truly in her element.
Merlin comes to find her. She knew that he might. He looks haunted. His dark hair is plastered to his skull, his soaked clothes cling to every limb.
A ghost of a smile crosses his face as he sits down next to her and pulls her close. He kisses her bare shoulder with icy lips.
Freya closes her eyes and lifts her face to the gray sky, breathing in the rain, hoping against hope. She wants him to speak of sunshine and strawberries, flowers and a small farm. She wants him to yearn for their simple, lost life of happiness just as much as she still does.
But Merlin says nothing.
He looks out across the lake and sighs. Heavy rain obscures the distant Tor, even to those with magic.
Finally he breaks the silence. “How is he?”
His words are slow, reluctant, as if spoken underwater.
”Is he still sleeping?”
gilli_annTitle: Rain in their hearts
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Freya/Merlin, Arthur/Merlin
Character/s: Freya, Merlin
Summary: No rain will wash away their longing or their hopes
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 250
Prompt: 155 Rain
Author's Notes:
Rain in their hearts
Rain whispers across the lake, its calm surface blemished by the endless deluge. The world is a washed-out blur, drenched in tears from the clouds. It's hard to tell where the lake waters end and the air above begins.
Freya swims across from Avalon to the human shore. Sitting on the waterlogged bank, she untangles the snarls in her hair with a fish-bone comb, and binds herself a pretty wreath of pale water lilies.
She gathers cold rain in her hands and sips it. It tastes of sorrow.
On days like these she's truly in her element.
Merlin comes to find her. She knew that he might. He looks haunted. His dark hair is plastered to his skull, his soaked clothes cling to every limb.
A ghost of a smile crosses his face as he sits down next to her and pulls her close. He kisses her bare shoulder with icy lips.
Freya closes her eyes and lifts her face to the gray sky, breathing in the rain, hoping against hope. She wants him to speak of sunshine and strawberries, flowers and a small farm. She wants him to yearn for their simple, lost life of happiness just as much as she still does.
But Merlin says nothing.
He looks out across the lake and sighs. Heavy rain obscures the distant Tor, even to those with magic.
Finally he breaks the silence. “How is he?”
His words are slow, reluctant, as if spoken underwater.
”Is he still sleeping?”