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How to Write a Character
↠ Start with the basics, because obviously. Name. Age. Gender. Maybe even a birthday if you’re feeling fancy. This is step one because, well, your character needs to exist before they can be interesting. But nobody cares if they’re 27 or 37 unless it actually matters to the story.
↠ Looks aren’t everything… but also, describe them. Yes, we know their soul is more important than their hair color, but readers still need something to visualize. Do they have the kind of face that makes babies cry? Do they always look like they just rolled out of bed? Give us details, not just “tall with brown hair.
↠ Personality isn’t just “kind but tough.” For the love of storytelling, give them more than two adjectives. Are they kind, or do they just pretend to be because they hate confrontation? Are they actually tough, or are they just too emotionally repressed to cry in public? Dig deeper.
↠ Backstory = Trauma (usually). Something shaped them. Maybe it was a messy divorce, maybe they were the middle child and never got enough attention, or maybe they once got humiliated in a spelling bee and never recovered. Whatever it is, make it matter to who they are today.
↠ Give them a goal. Preferably a messy one. If your character’s only motivation is to “be happy” or “do their best,” they’re boring. They need a real goal, one that conflicts with who they are, what they believe in, or what they think they deserve. Bonus points if it wrecks them emotionally.
↠ Make them suffer. Yes, I said it. A smooth, easy journey is not a story. Give them obstacles. Rip things away from them. Make them work for what they want. Nobody wants to read about a character who just gets everything handed to them (unless it’s satire, then carry on).
↠ Relationships = Depth. Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who annoys the hell out of them? Who do they have that messy, can’t-live-with-you-can’t-live-without-you tension with? People shape us. So, shape your character through the people in their life.
↠ Give them a voice that actually sounds like them. If all your characters talk the same, you’ve got a problem. Some people ramble, some overthink, some are blunt to the point of being offensive. Let their voice show who they are. You should be able to tell who’s talking without dialogue tags.
↠ If they don’t grow, what’s the point? People change. They learn things, make mistakes, get their hearts broken, and (hopefully) become a little wiser. If your character starts and ends the story as the same exact person, you just wasted everyone’s time.
↠ Flaws. Give. Them. Flaws. Nobody likes a perfect character. Give them something to struggle with, maybe they’re selfish, maybe they push people away, maybe they’re addicted to the thrill of self-destruction (fun!). Make them real. Make them human.
↠ Relatability is key. Your character doesn’t have to be likable, but they do have to be understandable. Readers need to get them, even if they don’t agree with them. If your character never struggles, never doubts, and never screws up, I have bad news: they’re not a character, they’re a mannequin.
↠ You’re never actually done. Characters evolve, not just in the story, but as you write them. If something feels off, fix it. If they feel flat, dig deeper. Keep refining, rewriting, and letting them surprise you. That’s how you create someone who feels real.
Now go forth and write characters that actually make people feel something. And if you need a reminder, just ask yourself: Would I care if this person existed in real life? If the answer is meh, start over.
i finished mha and been brainrotting a bit evidently
𝕁𝕖𝕟’𝕤 𝔾𝕝𝕖𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
1 • 2x18 - Born This Way
“Won’t Quinn be mad at you sitting vigil at my bedside?” “...well I’m standing”
She’s a mother now and you can’t change my mind.
✨REBLOGS APPRECIATED✨
HI >:)
I'M BACK YESSSSS >:DDDD
Finally, although a lot of exams, I AM HERE >:) (*All might moment *)
I promise I'll upload draws :v AND I LITERALLY SEE A LOT OF NOTIFICATION ABOUT PEOPLE I FOLLOW QWQ (I need to see the new publications of shycroissanti and other people qwq <333)
That's all >:D
ICON ICON ICON ICON ‼️
(Reference: in Christian Dior, Gisele Bündchen & Rhea Durham by Nick Knight)
Good morning everyone I am once again thinking about fire emblem awakening (2012) and I will make it everyone else's problem.
Anyway if you dig real hard and remove all the layers of pretend and coping mechanisms and the likes, Henry is, at his most base self, someone who is defined by a complete and utter inability to understand humans. He does not understand their morals (see: Panne, Ricken, Lissa's supports) he does not understand how they emote (see: Olivia's supports) honestly pick up any of his supports and you'll find Henry baffling others in a way or another. His early life was filled with intense social isolation, what's with "being raised by a wolf" and "abusive magic school of doom," to the point where he finds it easier to understand animals or even plants over people (see: Cherche, Panne, Maribelle's interlude) Even when he grows to like the Shephreds and actually actively tries to connect with them, his attempts are often met with failure (see: summer scramble, kellam's interactions)
But the kicker! What makes Henry truly tasty!! Is that despite everything, no matter how inhuman, monstrous, beastly Henry may be, he is still a human, and "Henry does not understand humans" applies first and foremost to himself. Henry says in his supports with Ricken that he'd be upset if Ricken died, and immediately afterwards admits that he has no idea why he would be. In the Summer Scramble dlc, he mentions that he cares for no god, but he does care for what Libra thinks of him, even though he doesn't know why either. Henry is a hard person to figure out because himself doesn't know what he's feeling or why he does things half of the time!
unless they specifically asked, you don’t get to tell a fanfic writer you think they mischaracterized the character by the way. because the second someone writes a fanfic about a character, that character becomes the writer’s own version of the character. canon is only a suggestion, but whether or not an author will follow it / how much of canon an author will take is entirely up to them. you don’t get to stick your nose in their world and tell them “hey this is not to my liking therefore I think you’re doing it wrong” when you can simply leave quietly and move on to something else you may enjoy
ShikaNaru Headcanons
☀️Shikamaru definitely realizes his feelings first and it is 100% an "oh, shit" moment.
☀️I imagine the Nara clan to love not as angrily as the Uchiha, but just as obsessively. Where the Uchiha seek to almost possess, the Nara clan covets knowledge. In this case, Shikamaru wants to know everything about Naruto— no detail is too small.
☀️ I'm not saying Shikamaru is stalking him, but he'd definitely follow him everywhere. Like, he's not trying to hide. Naruto just hasn't noticed because it's... Well, it's Naruto.
☀️And the few times he does notice him it's just— "Wow, what're you doing here Shikamaru? 😀" baby you should be asking why you've seen him ten different times this week and it's only Monday.
☀️Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation, did I say Nara Fixation yet?
☀️Naruto wants for nothing because somehow, Shikamaru always knows exactly what he needs and is able to predict exactly when he's going to need it.
☀️ Naruto never quite realizes the depth of the obsession/love. He's just completely oblivious to the fact that Shikamaru is kind of, slightly, a little bit (maybe a lot a bit) insane. With a cherry on top.
☀️ Lowkey, I am a huge fan of crazy Shikamaru. Like, not outwardly crazy, but "I know your height, weight, regular resting heart rate, wrist diameter, and how many times you've said 'believe it' today" crazy Shikamaru. Knows too much Shikamaru.
☀️Naruto 100% just assumes they're dating after a while of certain details accumulating. Shikamaru feeds him like, daily. Shikamaru has shared a bed with him several times. They spend a lot of time together. They hold hands. Shikamaru knows like, everything about him somehow.
☀️ Naturally, they must've been dating this entire time and Naruto simply didn't notice until now. And because Naruto has zero experience with healthy relationships, he just accepts this as fact and moves on with his life.
☀️ Shikamaru when Naruto grabs him by the face on day, plants a huge kiss on him with no context, and then skips off: 👁️👄👁️
☀️ Come on, it'd be so funny.
☀️ Insert Naruto also knowing a surprising amount about Shikamaru, because he's more attentive than people give him credit for. Shikamaru follows him around so much, of course he learns about him over time. He may be an idiot, but he's not a moron. Or... something like that.
☀️ Naruto is just happy someone actually wants to be around him. Sasuke is Sasuke, Sakura constantly yells at him, Kakashi literally runs, Yamato is only around for training, and Sai just insults him in increasing intervals when they're together.
☀️ Touch-Starved! Naruto vs. Can't get enough of touching him! Shikamaru! Go! Fight!
☀️ Shikamaru "he's never going to love me" Nara and Naruto "I wonder when Shikamaru is gonna propose" Uzumaki
☀️ Naruto just goes to the court house and files the documents himself. Surprise, Shikamaru. Not only does he love you, you've been married for the past four months.
☀️ Alternatively, Shikamaru could pull the same move. Oh, you kissed me on the mouth? Sounds like a proposal to me.
☀️ For a certified genius, Shikamaru would absolutely be the kind of idiot to assume Naruto couldn't ever return his feelings. There could be so much evidence to the contrary and it really WOULD take an entire kiss to the lips to convince him.
☀️ No worries, Naruto is more than willing to oblige.
☀️ Basically um I love them, they're both smart AND stupid in different ways, but they make it work. And nobody can change my mind.
toh x omori
combining my 2 favorite fandoms because why not
I love insufferable protagonists. I love heroes who are smug little shits. I hope the trials and tribulations of an entire book series fail to teach them even the smallest smidgen of humility. i hope it makes them worse. gimme that sweet sweet hubris candy coating
Laufey's songs are literally sskk. Like have u ever heard them?
«I've rejected affection
For years and years
Now I have it, and damn it
It's kind of weird»
«Don't you notice how
I get quiet when there's no one else around?
Me and you and awkward silence
Don't you dare look at me that way
I don't need reminders of how you don't feel the same»
«It hurts to be something
It's worse to be nothing with you
I've done the math
There's no solution
We'll never last
Why can't I let go of this?»
«Floorboards creaking in my home
Deathly silence when alone
Oh, I wish that you were here right now
So unlike me, somehow I
Fell in love in just three nights
Those November days still haunting me»
«Magnolia, she could have anyone in the world
Floats around town in a golden gown
Born in a castle on a cloud
Magnolia, prettiest girl that I know
Stars in her eyes, handpicked from the skies
Beautiful soul
How can I compete with her?
Perfection is the only word
I think of when I think of Magnolia
She doesn't know that the world is turning just for her
I wish I could be Magnolia»
@polysjmweek Day 1: Whose Court Is It Anyway?
I don’t partake in many poly ships, but you better believe I am HERE for Cassian x Nesta x Azriel x Eris. Talk about a power-cule
This is based on a scene from the exhilarating fic I Am Done With My Graceless Heart by the acotar poly ship QUEEN @greenvelvetcouture . With the way this series has gone, I feel like this prompt perfectly exemplifies the dynamic these four have got going on
RE-INCARNATES
Roderic Ivory and Evelyn Ivory and their re-incarnations Jacob Peterson and Kace Peterson
(Lore below!)
Keep reading
post magic reveal arthur is like “:/ mmm i’ll open up communications with the druids but idk about repealing the ban :/“ and merlin is like “??? why??” and arthur’s like “well magic is evil, that’s all i’ve been taught and all i know. i know you’re not evil but idk about other sorcerers, i can’t just let them free.” and merlin’s like “what’ll get you to consider it” and arthur’s like “well you say that magic isn’t something you chose, it choses you. alright, but people still chose to use it.” and merlin who has never followed this train of thought before is like,,, “you wanna test it? experiment? i can stop using my magic and we’ll see what happens” and arthur who has been playing his father’s lessons on magic through his head for the past like month since he found out and has been trying to figure out a way to get merlin to stop corrupting his soul jumps on the opportunity and is like “great idea :] nothing could go wrong :] you stop corrupting yourself and i don’t have to set magic free :]”
merlin stops using his magic for everything. he makes a conscious effort to force it all down and away and the first few days pass by fine. then he starts to get a little dizzy and then he gets spacey and distracted but not rambly, just staring off into space. then he’s just like. not there anymore. druids come to camelot to speak with arthur but can’t stop staring at merlin and eventually cut the conversation off to point at merlin and ask whats wrong with him
when they find out whats been going on they go all “oh shit” and urge everyone to stand still and not make a move. arthur inquires and they answer. magic has built up within him. magics natural state is free, it wishes to be used and to fly free, to be cooped up within someone is like caging a wild stallion. it bucks and kicks at the gate, bites at its handlers, and fights like hell to be set free. the magic thats been trapped within merlin for a couple of weeks is practically tearing him apart from the inside trying to set itself free. but! they can’t just tell him to use magic here. even the smallest use of magic would be a crack in a dam that would crumble like ash and set all the magic free. and with all that magic - all of emrys’s magic? he could very well flatten the city.
they cautiously, EXTREMELY cautiously, guide merlin out of the room, out of the castle, and into the middle of the woods. they urged everyone (who followed which is like arthur and his knights) back and out of the forest. then from a distance, the eldest druid mentally reached out to merlin and instructed him to let his magic loose. within seconds a blast of pure golden light shoots forth and flattens the entire forest, the druids casting a large shield to protect themselves, arthur, and his men.
merlin staggers to his feet in the distance and the eldest druid reaches out again, for safe measure, and tells him to let loose once more. merlin obeys and reaches down into the ground and pulls all the trees back up and imbues them with life so they thrive once more. the druids claim the forest as their own, sacred by order of emrys. arthur allows it. and then goes home to draft up a magic ban repeal. and an apology to merlin.
"Why." It slips out of his lips before Arthur's dignity can catch up with his tongue and spare him, at least, this last shame.
Agravaine scoffs. "Your father bartered my sister's life for an heir. He was the mind behind her murder, but you were the hand." A shake of the head. "I'd sooner die than see you on her throne."
There is so much Arthur wants to scream at him. A defense for his father -he loved her-, defense for himself -I was a child-, but he's rendered speechless by the realization that all these months at his court, his uncle had not been on his side for a single day. He's followed plans of this man, he'd killed on his advice, he'd questioned the loyalty of friends who deserved better than that. On a traitor's word, he'd left his walls unprotected as the snake grew inside them.
"You will not get away with-" His heroic, if empty, threats are silenced by the gag that Cenred returns to his mouth, a bored expression on his face.
"We should just kill him and put his head on a spike on the inner wall. That will stop the peasant resistance quick enough."
On his knees in his own hall of ceremonies, Arthur has no idea of the state of the fight outside. He'd ordered his men to surrender, to spare their lives at least, but some refused the order and kept fighting in the streets. And for some forsaken reason the people of Camelot joined them.
When all he can see are streaks of smoke rising in the thin darkness of the evening, shades of orange painting pictures on the ceiling, Arthur can only imagine the carnage that is being consumed in his streets. The mere though pierces through his chest like a spear.
"Let the peasants die if they want," Agravaine waves a hand. "Believe me, I wouldn't mind killing my nephew right now either, but we need to secure this allegiance and his head might be our only way there."
"Yes, Morgause mentioned," Cenred stalks lazily to the long table of the feast he interrupted. He searches among the plates for a piece of dried fruit, then takes off one blood-soaked glove to toss the treat into his mouth. "Why is it that we need this wizard, exactly? I've seen what a single High Priestess can do; I can only imagine what a pair of sisters could achive." Agravaine looks pointedly at Arthur. Cenred rolls his eyes, and gathers for himself another sweet plum. "He's going to be dead in a few hours anyway. What does it matter what he hears?"
"You know it's not the magic that we lack, it's legitimacy," Agravaine seems, at least, as disgusted as Arthur feels. Except, he leans against the table to stare down at his bound and gagged nephew, so maybe not that disgusted.
As long as they're toying with him, at least, they are not toying with Guinevere. That is the one thought that keeps Arthur's spine straight through the humiliation: that his wife was sent to the dungeons with distracted orders, along with other prisoners of lower rank, men and women both, so maybe, just maybe, she could live through this ordeal. If it is Arthur's time, maybe it doesn't have to be hers as well.
"Legitimacy? They are blessed by the Goddess and I am the rightful king," Cenred scoffs.
"Not of Camelot. But fear not, Morgana has the claim to the throne, it is not the succession line that is in question." With the tip of the same dagger he'd used to cut the cape off of Arthur's shoulders, the clothes off his chest and back, leaving him in trousers and linen shirt, Agravaine points to the windows and the screams still rising beyond them, coming muffled into the air of the room. "The prophecies of old are the problem. They still have power over the Old Religion folks. You think the Catha were the only ones who turned on us? You think the druids will be the only to refuse the priestess' call? This is only the beginning."
"The Cathas are a dying breed and the druids have never seen a fight in their lives, who cares on whose side they choose to make their stand?" The fruit's seed is spat on the floor. It echoes against the tall walls and the broken bodies of the soldiers who died trying to save their king. "They will see that we cannot be stopped soon enough, and then-"
"Can we not?" Agravaine interrupts. "It is way too early to make such a bold claim, my lord."
Cenred meets Agravaine's eyes very slowly. He picks a small morsel of cheese, swallows it with lazy abandon and then picks at a piece of something left between his teeth with the nail of his little finger. "This wizard?"
"A fraud, most likely," Agravaine shakes his head. "Claims the throne of First of the Dragonlords, but everybody knows Uther put an end to that kind long ago. Still, rumours have spread and now many of the magical creature believe him to be the mythical Emrys. The greatest sorcerer to ever walk the Earth. The right hand to the king of prophecies."
"If you truly think him a fraud, then why do you suppose we need an allegiance with him? I cannot understand this. Why cannot Morgause and Morgana just kill him?"
"A fraud on our side is better than the true thing in hiding. So long as Emrys doesn't side with us, we will meet opposition from those who interpret it as his hostility. We need his support, if we are to turn all of magic against Camelot." Then, because Cenred arches a brow dauntly at him, Agravaine scoffs. "Furthermore, there is no hint as to who this person could be, or where. This is our chance for a meeting, and we must open it with a tempting offer, just in case."
"Ah," Cenred turns back to the table, taps his finger on the wood a couple times as he surveyed the spread of goods. He chooses a cup from a knight' seat - Gwaine's, Arthur's head scream, and good knows if the knight is still alive to reclaim it one day - and pours himself from a pitcher. Rich dark wine fills the goblet to the brim. Agravaine rolls his eyes at the big mouthful the king takes. "And how exactly are we supposed to recognise this great wizard?" Cenred says, licking his lips from stray drops.
Agravaine's face twists in barely contained disgust. "Well, he's going to walk in here and demand the prince of Camelot's head for himself, for one. Morgana sent word through the grapevine, that the prize is his to claime. How hard can it be to discern him, then?"
"I was merely thinking about all the times I've seen Morgana disfigure herself into an old crone, or Morgause turn her own appearance into someone else's." Cenred's steps are measured and quiet as he walks the table's edge from the sides to the center, to where Agravaine waits in front of the seats of honor. "It seems disingenuous to assume that, what, he's going to be old and decrepit and wear robes and a white beard? A staff, perhaps? Maybe a raven on his shoulder too, for flavour?"
When Cenred stops, he's just at Arthur's side and looks down on him with a pensive look. The goblet is still in his hand, and the king takes another sip. Arthur strains against his bonds, but he just as successful as another piece of cattle auctioned in the market.
"With all due respect, milord, what are you insinuating?" Agravaine asks, though there's not much respect in his tone of voice.
"Indulge me in a bit of thought." Cenred turns suddenly from Arthur, stands right in front of Agravaine. "Say this wizard is not a fraud at all. Say he is the Emrys of legends, and say that the Catha, the druids, the water sprites and the fae - all those who refused our call were right and he is not happy about this whole matter at all-," he gestures once, wide, with the arm holding the cup to the bloodied room, the scenery outside the windows, the kneeling king at last, "-how are we to know that he's not going to simply walk in here disguised as, say, a soldier? A servant? A noble, perhaps; someone above all suspicions?"
"How dare you." Agravaine has stiffened, clearly at the end of his rope, turning away from Arthur to face the other king instead, where Cenred has moved to his side now. "You accuse me of being an imposter?! I have the lady Morgana's protective sigil right here with me!"
It strikes Arthur all of a sudden, now that he stares at Cenred's calculating profile as he faces off his uncle, that he'd never seen a man of royal blood stepping into a room silently, much less unnoticed. When the attack was started, Agravaine had been sitting at his side, had waited for the perfect moment to point a dagger at Guinevere's throat and force Arthur into stillness; but Cenred, he must have been outside leading the charge, must have been with his men, and he must have entered from the main doors right at Arthur's back, right in Agravaine's face.
Yet, no matter how much he thinks about it, Arthur cannot remember the exact moment when Cenred joined them.
Agravaine has pulled out what looks like a twisted rendition of a druidic rune, and holds it dangling from his hand for the king to examine. It is made of three twigs from petrified trees, tied in a triangular shape with animal sinew and smeared with a thick, heavy substance of dark brown shade, crystalised.
Cenred looks at it with an arched brow and picks it delicately between two fingers to turn it this and that way. "So this is why nothing worked," he says.
"What-"
Arthur sees them both only by the side but that is still enough to see Cenred's eye glow gold, a brief second before Agravaine's talisman breaks off the leather string in his hand. It falls right into the cup and the wine explodes in burst of flames.
Agravaine shouts and falls back two steps. The cup is left to drop on the floor, and Arthur watches it clang against the stone floor only to spill nothing but dark, dry ashes.
The doors open to let inside an endless stream of soldiers in Essetir's colors. Cenred points to Agravaine, "Treason! The snake du Bois turns on us! Seize him!"
It is a useless endeavour, Agravaine's attempt at swaying the soldiers by turning the accusations on the men's king. Arthur watches that knowledge dawn quickly on his uncle's face, and soon the man has a sword in hand and is fighting for his life.
Just as soon, he feels a tug on his shirt and he chokes into coughs as he's dragged to his feet. "Cover me," Cenred orders his men as they let him through. "This prisoner belongs to the High Priestess. Don't let the traitor get him!"
Arthur tries to see - wants to see - the moment Agravaine is overcome by the enemies, but he can only be dragged backwards so far before he starts losing his balance. When he's forced to turn to follow after his captor, he tries to understand what's happening by hearing alone. There is a lot of screeches of metal and grunts of men, but nothing more.
They are in the hallway in a second.
Cenred doesn't take him to the end of it. Instead, halfway through, he pushes against a tapestry on the wall and all but tosses Arthur through the servants door hidden behind.
He should fight, Arthur thinks distractedly; try to get free, at the very least. For what, though? The castle is overrun, he doesn't know where his knights are, his wife is still a prisoner. This man, whoever he might be underneath the face of Essetir's king, has taken him from Agravaine's hands and that is more help than he'd expected to receive, so soon after this last betrayal.
He also seems to know the layout of his castle almost better than Arthur himself. He takes turns without hesitation, navigates the labyrinth of the easement passages with ease, knows when to tread quietly for they are passing by occupied rooms and when to hurry in a quick run to gain advantage on those who must be looking for them.
At one point, Arthur hears Cenred's voice, but it is beyond a wall and it souds absolutely enraged.
This Cenred doesn't seem to notice, too focused ahead of himself.
Arthur hasn't truly used this passages in a long time - ever since he was a boy trying to evade his tutors -, but he figures out their path with the landmarks he can, until Cenred stops by a door and turns to meet his eyes with a mistrustful look. "This will be much easier if you have your hands free," he says, and Arthur tenses all muscles when he hears a horse's neigh. "Can I trust you not to stab me in the back?"
As efficiently as he'd gagged him, this Cenred frees his mouth. Arthur spits dust and saliva at his feet, and glares, but nods stiffly.
"Very reassuring." Still, the man walks around him. A sound of blade against leather, then blade against rope, then suddenly Arthur is free.
The temptation to turn and punch is strong, but he holds himself back. Instead, he grabs Cenred by the wrist when the man reaches for the door. "I can't leave," he declares. "My people-"
"What, you really think it's just peasants fighting out there?" The sorcerer shakes his head somewhat pityingly. The urge to punch him grows stronger. "Your knights never made it to the dungeons. They should have ensured a safe route for you and your queen, by now."
"Camelot-"
"-is lost. There is nothing you can do now. Go, find shelter and regroup. You have allies that will help you retake your throne, but you need to live to save your people from the shadow of Morgana's tyranny."
The man - Arthur thinks, for a second, he sees the dark eyes of Cenred turn blue before they flare in gold - makes a quick gesture of the hand, and several thuds sound off from behind the door. When he pushes it open, brazenly, Arthur finds six soldiers of Agravaine lying on the ground. Their horses, saddled and ready, huff at the new arrivals but none screeches in alarm; they just stand meekly where they are.
Bridles are offered to him. Arthur takes them hesitantly. "Go," he hears, from the back he watches running to the door of the stables. "I will try and help as I can, but you must be quick."
There is not much to say to that, so he climbs on the horse. Cenred grabs the handle of the stable doors and meets his eyes for a confirmation. "Is it true?" Arthur cannot help but ask. "Are you Emrys, and do you oppose Morgana?"
"What is it that's so hard to understand about hurry-" Cenred glares at him. "That is what the druids call me, and I less oppose Morgana than I serve you."
Something tugs at Arthur's chest, a boiling in his blood that smells like a battlefield after victory. "Why," he asks, even though something in his bones screams that it's true and right and owed to him, yes.
Cenred's whole face softens lightly, years shaved off him for a second. "Because you will be the greatest king of all, and I will do anything in my power to see it happen."
"Must be a lot of power, if you're such a great wizard."
"Technically, a warlock."
"Yet you cannot give me back my castle right now, because-?"
A flash of disbelief runs across the man's face, then it's Cenred's face again, twisted in annoyed mask. "Oh, just get going, you-"
He pulls the door open mid-sentence. Arthur sees the soldiers outside that stop on their tracks at the gesture, sees the recognition on their faces, and instinct takes over.
His heels find the horse's flanks and they are running, flying past Cenred as he gets shrouded in shadows, and they are in the courtyard, then past the inner gates, then past the middle ones. He's in the lower town faster than any regular animal oughts to be able to run and then, in a second he's surrounded by red.
Bright, rich, powerful, familiar red.
"Sire!" Leon shouts as he brings his horse up to Arthur's side. "This way."
Percival closes ranks behind them, shielding Arthur from any possible stray arrows aimed at his back. At the last gates, Elyan and Gwaine are fighting tooth and nails to keep Cenred's men from reaching the argans and raise the bridge. When they see their companions arriving, Elyan manages to get on his horse, grab Gwaine by an arm to pull him up as well, and they are all off.
They are on safe ground outside of Camelot when, with a creak, the iron bars of the gate come crashing down on their own, and the elevating bridge lifts of its own accord, closing all the way up in spite of the voices ordering to lower it down again.
Arthur's blood keeps pumping into his ears, making rumbles of his knights' voices, until they reach the forest edge and he sees it. A single horse, with a single knight in crimson cape, and sitting astride, still in the blue dress of the feast, Guinevere.
She shakes in her seat, but Lancelot is quicker and, rather than letting her jump down and run their way, he pushes his horse in a gallop to meet them.
Arthur is freezing and in shame. He dares not imagine how many bruises and cuts, how much blood, is on his person to make Guinevere - who has seen many a terrible thing - sob that way. He reaches a hand out and finds hers and the world settles in his skin again.
Camelot is not lost, the wind sings as it ruffles his hair. The earth growls in every thud of hoof against the forest floor, your rule doesn't end today. There is fire in his chest and it promises vengeance. For some reason, his mind keeps picturing lake waters for a safe rest.
"Are we all-" he cannot find it in himself, to finish the question.
Leon is prompt to answer nonetheless. "No, Sire. When we were freed from the dungeons, so were many others. We left all wounded and simple soldiers under Gaius' charge, to find a safe place to hide in the forest. They wait for us at the caves by Lake Avalon."
"Let's go, then." For a moment, he hesitates. Decades old fear clumps his throat with mud. He thinks, truly with belief, that he's going to let it die.
Then, he meets Lancelot's eyes above Guinevere's hair, and many a memory of loyalty, care and friendship submerge him. "When you split-" he asks, to all of them but to him above others, "-did you see...?"
Leon's horse huffs nervously under his rider's command. "Sire, it was chaos. It all happened so quickly, and our priority was you-"
"I saw him," Lancelot says. "Merlin was just ahead of us, with the soldiers of the front line. He was among those that broke free first. He joined Gaius in evacuating as many as possible, I'm sure."
Too sure. Too quick to reply. His horse uneasy under the clenching of his thighs.
Arthur nods, though he doesn't relax much. "Good," he says. To a degree, he might even mean it.
He's still thinking about it, though, as they run through the forest, in spite of the dark, headed to the lake.
About how the warlock got into the castle unnoticed, when the real Cenred was out there for all his people to see. How demurely he'd moved in the Hall, almost unnoticed even in plain sight. How all the serving passages had been known to him like the back of his hand.
He thinks of words spoken in the chaos of fight, a promise of greatness that rang true and well-known, repeated and committed to memory. He thinks that the last word the man spoke his way, the last address he used after my lord, sire and king, might have been another, much-used title of his.
A Cenred who was younger, a Cenred with blue eyes, glowering and scoffing and uttering, "prat."
If he's to be found, miracolously, among the refugees when no one else caught sight of hide or tail of him during the fight, Merlin - technically, his servant - will have some explaining to do that Arthur has all intention of drawing out of him.
lowkey I’m thinking abt trying out vocal synth cuz I’d like to write music with words in it and I cannot sing
Trapper (MASH) wearing some of his older self's fits from TJMD Note his slutty little shorts. witness more of trapper's fits on post bellow
