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'Surviving Death.' Merlin. Will, Nimueh. G.
I have a Word document saved as 'willmueh'.
I have a Word document saved as 'willmueh' because it was![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
miakun's birthday a couple of days ago, and I was writing her a drabble from the prompt "Will meets Nimueh, any situation". But then the drabble got out of hand, you know it goes. Instead of doing problem sets about maximum likelihood ratios, I wrote 1700 words of afterlife fic. I have few regrets about this.
Happy birthday, dearmiakun! Sorry this took longer than expected.
Surviving Death
Merlin. Nimueh, Will. G.
Will and Nimueh in the afterlife.
Nimueh looks to the sky and is engulfed by light and fire. Her last thought before she is destroyed is that she should have known: Merlin may be of magic, but if you spend enough time with humans, your heart will become as volatile as theirs. You will become capable of betraying even that which forms your foundation.
Magic, on the other hand, cannot betray. It simply is.
Nimueh should have known.
Nimueh dies.
+
Will finds the afterlife agreeable, as most do. The sun is never too hot, and the wind is never too cold. The fruits are always sweet, and the water always cool and refreshing. What’s more, he is with his father again, who does not look at all like how Will saw him last – pale, pained, and dying – but as Will remembers him from childhood: a man who carried himself with dignity, with wide shoulders and an open face.
“What shall we do today, son?” his father asked, and the question made Will’s heart ache with relief and gratitude. Son.
“I don’t know,” Will replied, but that was fine because there is time now to do everything.
+
Even though the dead no longer have any reason to fear anything, very few ever visit these shadowed woods. It’s why Nimueh stays here, nursing her pride, caught between memories of life and acceptance of death.
The boy who comes here now looks innocuous enough, having about him the blitheness typical of the dead. He seems to be on the lookout for something as he meanders between the trees.
“Who are you?” Nimueh demands. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Will,” he answers. “I saw a bright light over these woods some days ago. I just came to see where it came from.”
“That was me. That was my death.”
Will nods. “How did you die?”
Nimueh’s lips curl into a humorless smile. “I was sacrificed.”
“Ah.” He nods again. “Me too.”
+
He draws her into conversation, much as she tries to shoo him away. There is something familiar about Nimueh, and Will tries to work out what it is as he forces his pleasantries on her.
“What did you do when you were alive?” he asks.
“I was a priestess,” she replies, and pulls fire out of the air and holds it in her palm. “A sorceress.”
“Really?” Will enthuses. That must be it. He notices that her eyes don’t glow gold like Merlin’s would, but she gives off the same impression of a great power reined in. “My best friend was a sorcerer.”
“Is that so.”
“Yeah. His name was Merlin.”
Nimueh’s eyes widen.
+
She invites Will to her house, where she serves him wine and plies him with questions. What was Merlin like? How great was his power?
“He’s a good guy,” Will answers. “I’ll introduce you to him when he dies.”
“Oh, we’ve met.”
Will looks at her in surprise. “Really? That’s crazy! I mean that’s great, but crazy. He falls in with all sorts, seems like. Gets along with almost everyone.”
Nimueh says, “He was the one who killed me.”
Will continues to look at her, his expression as if suspended, and she just looks back until he feels compelled to look away. The silence stretches on, but Nimueh doesn’t feel inclined to dispel it. She just watches Will, friend of the one who sent her to her death, and feels satisfaction at seeing the conflicting emotions creep across his face.
When Will does eventually speak, he just says, “Oh.”
“Indeed. 'Oh'.”
“So… you probably don’t think he’s that great of a guy then.”
“Merlin is a great man,” says Nimueh. “A powerful sorcerer. But he was my enemy.”
Will wets his lips, open his mouth to speak, but hesitates and drinks more wine. “How is…?” he begins, and wipes his mouth with his wrist. “Is Merlin…? How is he, um…?”
“He’s doing well,” Nimueh concedes, taking pity on him. What a situation. Merlin betrayed them both, but they are both still tied to him. “He’s happy.”
“Good.” Will nods. “That’s good to hear.”
+
He begins to visit her on a regular basis, even if he’s never invited back. Nimueh never seems especially pleased to see him, but Will knows how to pretend to not pick up social cues, and eventually she would step aside and let him in, he suspects, out of pity. Maybe it’s not the best idea to regularly visit someone who his best friend saw fit to kill, or sacrifice, or whatever. But then again, Will was a sacrifice too and he wasn’t a bad guy. Maybe Nimueh wasn’t either.
Besides, they were both dead. What harm can ever befall them now?
It’s Will’s turn to ask her about Merlin. What did Merlin do after returning from Ealdor? How’s that prince treating him? Will tries not to laugh when he hears about the unicorn debacle. How very Merlin.
How very Merlin it is, too, to save the life of a cruel king who killed his friend’s father. Gwen, was it? Was that her name? Will remembers her as a soft and comforting presence who always had a smile for him when their paths crossed.
“You must know so many funny stories about Merlin, growing up with him,” she said once.
“Loads,” Will replied, but he never got around to telling her any of them.
Nimueh tells him about the hunt for the questing beast and negotiations on the Isle of the Blessed. Her tone is more subdued now, with none of the detached amusement she previously displayed. She trails off into silence after she tells him about the death of Gaius and the darkening clouds, and Will doesn’t ask what happens next. He knows. Nimueh was sacrificed for Merlin’s prince, like Will was too.
“This Arthur fellow,” Will says to fill the silence. “He better be worth it, eh? He better save the universe or something.”
Nimueh shakes her head. “Not the universe. Just the world.”
+
Nimueh should never have given Will wine, she knew it. Now he comes back all the time. She never should have told him about Merlin; now he likes her. Now he brings bread, cheese, and fruit when he visits. She never liked human food when she was alive, but she eats them now. In this world the food, like the sun and the wind, is always just right.
“My father and I are going to the mountains for a few weeks,” Will says through a mouthful of cheese. “You’re welcome to join us.”
She declines, of course. Will cajoles her, grinning impishly, but she says no, she’s fine where she is.
Nimueh distracts herself by gazing into the world of the living. The veil between the worlds is thinner for creatures like her. She watches her people, adherents of the Old Religion, dispersed far and wide. The boy Mordred, growing in power. She reads Mordred’s stars again just to amuse herself, but nothing has changed of course, and anyway there is nothing she can do.
She checks on Uther and oh, how he has changed. How angry and drawn he has become. His laugh is not as easy as it was, and it saddens her that his son never knew him to be any other way. It reminds Nimueh that she still hasn’t gone to see Igraine yet, and that she should. Well, she will. At some point.
The dragon still languishes in his cave, and Nimueh aches for him. She longs to reach through the veil to touch him, to offer her old friend comfort and finally say, “How right you were, my love, and I am sorry.” She could if she wanted to, but she wasn’t sure if the dragon would want it, so she leaves it alone.
Will told her a few weeks ago, “The living miss the dead, but no one ever talks about how the dead miss the living,”
Occasionally she will venture to the edge of the woods and scan the distance for a mop of brown hair and a familiar ambling gait. When Nimueh doesn’t see either, she retreats back into the shadows.
+
“You should come with us next time,” Will tells her the next time he stands in her doorway.
Nimueh replies, “Perhaps.”
She turns around and Will follows her inside.
A bottle and two goblets float through the air in their direction. Will loves seeing her do magic, just like he loved seeing Merlin do magic, bending the world to their will.
“Our Merlin’s become quite the bloodthirsty bastard, did you know?” Will says. “I met another man who was killed by Merlin. Axe in the face. Can you believe that? I met a group of sorcerers who tried to assassinate the king, but guess who ended up assassinating them instead?”
“Does this surprise you?”
Will replies, “I’m not sure.”
“He will have more blood on his hands before his time is out,” Nimueh tells him as the wine pours itself first into Will’s goblet, then into hers. “But such things should no longer be your concern.”
“I know. But. It’s strange.”
Nimueh raises an eyebrow. “What is?”
“What he’s become.”
“No. It’s what he’s always been.”
Will frowns. “Murderous?”
“No,” she sighs, plucking her goblets from the air. “Destiny is just doing what needs to be done.”
“Destiny,” Will echoes dryly. “I’m sick of that excuse.”
“Excuses,” Nimueh mimics. “I’m sick of fools who dismiss the inevitable.”
“There’s only one thing that’s inevitable,” Will says, “and it’s what we are now.”
She hesitates. “What are we now?”
“Dead.”
“Right,” she says. “Of course.”
“What did you think?” he asks, grinning.
“Nothing,” Nimueh says, and lifts her goblet. “To death.”
“To death,” Will agrees.
They drink.
+
It’s dark by the time they are saying their goodbyes, but here there is always enough moonlight and starlight to see by. “I can go home with my eyes closed by now anyway,” Will says. “Maybe I should, just for the challenge of it.”
“Maybe you can try closing your eyes when you come back, just for the fun of it.”
Will tilts his head to the side. “Come back?”
“Yes.”.
“You inviting me back, then?”
Nimueh smirks. “In my experience, whether I invite you back doesn’t make much of a difference.”
“No. But you’re inviting me back anyway, now.”
“Are you declining?”
“No, no. Just, you know.” Will grins. “Just making sure.”
“Well. Are you sure now?”
“I suppose I am sure enough.”
Nimueh lets herself smile.
Will bows his head. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
“I suppose I will,” she replies. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He leaves, and she closes the door.
She is still smiling.
I have a Word document saved as 'willmueh' because it was
miakun's birthday a couple of days ago, and I was writing her a drabble from the prompt "Will meets Nimueh, any situation". But then the drabble got out of hand, you know it goes. Instead of doing problem sets about maximum likelihood ratios, I wrote 1700 words of afterlife fic. I have few regrets about this.Happy birthday, dear
miakun! Sorry this took longer than expected.Surviving Death
Merlin. Nimueh, Will. G.
Will and Nimueh in the afterlife.
Nimueh looks to the sky and is engulfed by light and fire. Her last thought before she is destroyed is that she should have known: Merlin may be of magic, but if you spend enough time with humans, your heart will become as volatile as theirs. You will become capable of betraying even that which forms your foundation.
Magic, on the other hand, cannot betray. It simply is.
Nimueh should have known.
Nimueh dies.
+
Will finds the afterlife agreeable, as most do. The sun is never too hot, and the wind is never too cold. The fruits are always sweet, and the water always cool and refreshing. What’s more, he is with his father again, who does not look at all like how Will saw him last – pale, pained, and dying – but as Will remembers him from childhood: a man who carried himself with dignity, with wide shoulders and an open face.
“What shall we do today, son?” his father asked, and the question made Will’s heart ache with relief and gratitude. Son.
“I don’t know,” Will replied, but that was fine because there is time now to do everything.
+
Even though the dead no longer have any reason to fear anything, very few ever visit these shadowed woods. It’s why Nimueh stays here, nursing her pride, caught between memories of life and acceptance of death.
The boy who comes here now looks innocuous enough, having about him the blitheness typical of the dead. He seems to be on the lookout for something as he meanders between the trees.
“Who are you?” Nimueh demands. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Will,” he answers. “I saw a bright light over these woods some days ago. I just came to see where it came from.”
“That was me. That was my death.”
Will nods. “How did you die?”
Nimueh’s lips curl into a humorless smile. “I was sacrificed.”
“Ah.” He nods again. “Me too.”
+
He draws her into conversation, much as she tries to shoo him away. There is something familiar about Nimueh, and Will tries to work out what it is as he forces his pleasantries on her.
“What did you do when you were alive?” he asks.
“I was a priestess,” she replies, and pulls fire out of the air and holds it in her palm. “A sorceress.”
“Really?” Will enthuses. That must be it. He notices that her eyes don’t glow gold like Merlin’s would, but she gives off the same impression of a great power reined in. “My best friend was a sorcerer.”
“Is that so.”
“Yeah. His name was Merlin.”
Nimueh’s eyes widen.
+
She invites Will to her house, where she serves him wine and plies him with questions. What was Merlin like? How great was his power?
“He’s a good guy,” Will answers. “I’ll introduce you to him when he dies.”
“Oh, we’ve met.”
Will looks at her in surprise. “Really? That’s crazy! I mean that’s great, but crazy. He falls in with all sorts, seems like. Gets along with almost everyone.”
Nimueh says, “He was the one who killed me.”
Will continues to look at her, his expression as if suspended, and she just looks back until he feels compelled to look away. The silence stretches on, but Nimueh doesn’t feel inclined to dispel it. She just watches Will, friend of the one who sent her to her death, and feels satisfaction at seeing the conflicting emotions creep across his face.
When Will does eventually speak, he just says, “Oh.”
“Indeed. 'Oh'.”
“So… you probably don’t think he’s that great of a guy then.”
“Merlin is a great man,” says Nimueh. “A powerful sorcerer. But he was my enemy.”
Will wets his lips, open his mouth to speak, but hesitates and drinks more wine. “How is…?” he begins, and wipes his mouth with his wrist. “Is Merlin…? How is he, um…?”
“He’s doing well,” Nimueh concedes, taking pity on him. What a situation. Merlin betrayed them both, but they are both still tied to him. “He’s happy.”
“Good.” Will nods. “That’s good to hear.”
+
He begins to visit her on a regular basis, even if he’s never invited back. Nimueh never seems especially pleased to see him, but Will knows how to pretend to not pick up social cues, and eventually she would step aside and let him in, he suspects, out of pity. Maybe it’s not the best idea to regularly visit someone who his best friend saw fit to kill, or sacrifice, or whatever. But then again, Will was a sacrifice too and he wasn’t a bad guy. Maybe Nimueh wasn’t either.
Besides, they were both dead. What harm can ever befall them now?
It’s Will’s turn to ask her about Merlin. What did Merlin do after returning from Ealdor? How’s that prince treating him? Will tries not to laugh when he hears about the unicorn debacle. How very Merlin.
How very Merlin it is, too, to save the life of a cruel king who killed his friend’s father. Gwen, was it? Was that her name? Will remembers her as a soft and comforting presence who always had a smile for him when their paths crossed.
“You must know so many funny stories about Merlin, growing up with him,” she said once.
“Loads,” Will replied, but he never got around to telling her any of them.
Nimueh tells him about the hunt for the questing beast and negotiations on the Isle of the Blessed. Her tone is more subdued now, with none of the detached amusement she previously displayed. She trails off into silence after she tells him about the death of Gaius and the darkening clouds, and Will doesn’t ask what happens next. He knows. Nimueh was sacrificed for Merlin’s prince, like Will was too.
“This Arthur fellow,” Will says to fill the silence. “He better be worth it, eh? He better save the universe or something.”
Nimueh shakes her head. “Not the universe. Just the world.”
+
Nimueh should never have given Will wine, she knew it. Now he comes back all the time. She never should have told him about Merlin; now he likes her. Now he brings bread, cheese, and fruit when he visits. She never liked human food when she was alive, but she eats them now. In this world the food, like the sun and the wind, is always just right.
“My father and I are going to the mountains for a few weeks,” Will says through a mouthful of cheese. “You’re welcome to join us.”
She declines, of course. Will cajoles her, grinning impishly, but she says no, she’s fine where she is.
Nimueh distracts herself by gazing into the world of the living. The veil between the worlds is thinner for creatures like her. She watches her people, adherents of the Old Religion, dispersed far and wide. The boy Mordred, growing in power. She reads Mordred’s stars again just to amuse herself, but nothing has changed of course, and anyway there is nothing she can do.
She checks on Uther and oh, how he has changed. How angry and drawn he has become. His laugh is not as easy as it was, and it saddens her that his son never knew him to be any other way. It reminds Nimueh that she still hasn’t gone to see Igraine yet, and that she should. Well, she will. At some point.
The dragon still languishes in his cave, and Nimueh aches for him. She longs to reach through the veil to touch him, to offer her old friend comfort and finally say, “How right you were, my love, and I am sorry.” She could if she wanted to, but she wasn’t sure if the dragon would want it, so she leaves it alone.
Will told her a few weeks ago, “The living miss the dead, but no one ever talks about how the dead miss the living,”
Occasionally she will venture to the edge of the woods and scan the distance for a mop of brown hair and a familiar ambling gait. When Nimueh doesn’t see either, she retreats back into the shadows.
+
“You should come with us next time,” Will tells her the next time he stands in her doorway.
Nimueh replies, “Perhaps.”
She turns around and Will follows her inside.
A bottle and two goblets float through the air in their direction. Will loves seeing her do magic, just like he loved seeing Merlin do magic, bending the world to their will.
“Our Merlin’s become quite the bloodthirsty bastard, did you know?” Will says. “I met another man who was killed by Merlin. Axe in the face. Can you believe that? I met a group of sorcerers who tried to assassinate the king, but guess who ended up assassinating them instead?”
“Does this surprise you?”
Will replies, “I’m not sure.”
“He will have more blood on his hands before his time is out,” Nimueh tells him as the wine pours itself first into Will’s goblet, then into hers. “But such things should no longer be your concern.”
“I know. But. It’s strange.”
Nimueh raises an eyebrow. “What is?”
“What he’s become.”
“No. It’s what he’s always been.”
Will frowns. “Murderous?”
“No,” she sighs, plucking her goblets from the air. “Destiny is just doing what needs to be done.”
“Destiny,” Will echoes dryly. “I’m sick of that excuse.”
“Excuses,” Nimueh mimics. “I’m sick of fools who dismiss the inevitable.”
“There’s only one thing that’s inevitable,” Will says, “and it’s what we are now.”
She hesitates. “What are we now?”
“Dead.”
“Right,” she says. “Of course.”
“What did you think?” he asks, grinning.
“Nothing,” Nimueh says, and lifts her goblet. “To death.”
“To death,” Will agrees.
They drink.
+
It’s dark by the time they are saying their goodbyes, but here there is always enough moonlight and starlight to see by. “I can go home with my eyes closed by now anyway,” Will says. “Maybe I should, just for the challenge of it.”
“Maybe you can try closing your eyes when you come back, just for the fun of it.”
Will tilts his head to the side. “Come back?”
“Yes.”.
“You inviting me back, then?”
Nimueh smirks. “In my experience, whether I invite you back doesn’t make much of a difference.”
“No. But you’re inviting me back anyway, now.”
“Are you declining?”
“No, no. Just, you know.” Will grins. “Just making sure.”
“Well. Are you sure now?”
“I suppose I am sure enough.”
Nimueh lets herself smile.
Will bows his head. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
“I suppose I will,” she replies. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He leaves, and she closes the door.
She is still smiling.