Post by Incapability on Oct 27, 2006 5:34:15 GMT 9.5
A/N:Soooo, here we go. I started this ages ago, had a massive case of writers block and decided to move my backside when I saw the lovely things others had done with this challenge. Bad thing is it turned out crappy. I worked pretty much off of the movie scene and only altered the ending. In a completely not at all exiting way. Shamed as I am to admit it, this piece comes very close to what I'd call fluff. 
Disclaimer: Mwhahahaha! I own them all, they're all mine, MINE! So keep your dirty hands off my mistakes!
Scars
It was long past midnight. The moonlight shone onto the peaceful scenery of the sleeping abbey of Avalon. It had crossed the sea, wandered across the roofs, caressed the hem of the white gown of the only woman who was still awake and wandering, and came to rest on the little mirror unseen hands had left under the ancient tree in the courtyard. After a while, it dutifully aimed its reflection at the wandering woman’s face.
Nimue raised her hand to protect her eyes from the unexpected light. Without really thinking, and certainly forgetting all she had ever heard about curiosity being a sin, she went to find the source of the light.
“A mirror … but there are no mirrors in Avalon …” ‘After all, that is the reason I am here, so I can hide even from myself. If I cannot see this farce of a face, it does not exist … Or does it?’ One hand clutched the shiny silver mirror in all its ornamented beauty. It seemed almost impossible that it could show anything except beauty. The other hand hesitantly reached for her veil. It trembled so much that she could hardly grasp it, and after hastily glancing around to make sure no one was watching this act of desperate vanity, she pulled the thin cloth down and revealed the ruin that had once been her face.
Nimue closed her eyes at once; she could not stand the way her reflection raped the mirror’s smooth purity. ‘How foolish of me to think that repression and a pretty piece of silver would melt my ugliness away.’
Like lightening, hot, searing pain shot through her and left her shaken to the core. She slowly opened her eyes and gasped at what she saw: nothing.
Not a single scar, not one line was spoiling her skin, it was as pure and shining as she could possibly whish for. She raised her hand again; she had to touch I, she had to make sure it was no illusion … no, it was real, her fingertips seemed to brush against velvet.
But through the haze of her joy crept unwelcome doubts: how could it be? How could it have happened, this miracle, this piece of magic that not even Merlin had been able to accomplish? ‘I can’t … Mab is too strong.’
Nimue lowered the mirror, half dreading and half knowing what she would see, and before her stood the Queen of the Old Ways, a creature made of moonlight and darkness, of doubts and nightmares that were yet to come. She raised her eyebrows and pulled a grimace she obviously thought to be a smile, asking with a voice that echoed from everywhere and nowhere and seemed to be right in Nimue’s head: “Do you see how I can change you?”
Images of flames and dragons and looming dark figures appeared in Nimue’s mind, and if sneering hadn’t been something thoroughly un-ladylike, she would have done it as she replied. “You changed me already. You scarred me.” The false smile was whipped off of Mab’s face in an instant. “I know … so unfair.” To hell with un-ladylikeness. Nimue snorted. “Unfair? It was evil!” ‘You are speaking of unfairness, you, with your skin purer than moonlight, you, who sent the dragon after me and made me the monster I am?’
“With evil all around me, I can do nothing but evil to survive!” Now it was Nimue’s turn to raise her brows, and she walked up to Mab, her white novice gown like a shield against the darkness that shone from Mab’s every pore. “Oh … that’s too easy. You can fight it, like Merlin!” Nimue realised that mentioning Merlin might have been a mistake. The only thing was, she realised too late. There was nothing fake left in her face as the Queen of the Old Ways swept around, her features livid with anger, and hissed. “It is because of Merlin that all this came about!” – “That’s not true!” ‘I won’t let you put all the blame on Merlin … you made him suffer so much …’ “Why are you here, Mab?”
The question seemed to bring her back to her senses, at least it brought back the false smirk, which, in a way, was even more frightening than her anger. “To make you an offer. I will restore your beauty if you take Merlin to a place that I choose. You can live with him there, ‘till the end of your days …”, she coaxed.
Nimue hesitated. It would be wonderful, to live with Merlin, away from the cruelty of the real world, unbothered by the burden of her deformity. There had to be something wrong with the offer. What if they would be trapped in a hell-like place for all eternity? “And be happy?” Mab rolled her eyes and sighed. “And be happy.” As thought she had answered that question a million times, and as though she had hoped that this time it would not come.
Nimue thought it over. It certainly was tempting: to forget the world and leave the king and his everlasting problems behind, to end Merlin’s eternal fight against Mab … it seemed so easy. Too easy, she thought as she noticed how Mab was staring at her; expectant, almost greedy, and she realised that it was just what she wanted: Merlin out of the way so she could restore her Old Ways. She shook her head. “It would keep him from his purpose.”, she murmured sadly. Mab hissed. “It would keep him from wasting his life!”
Nimue flinched. Could Mab possibly be right? Years and years of fighting, without ever getting anywhere … and yet. “He believes that fighting for what is right isn’t a waste.” She had regained her composure and her certainty. Mab’s offer was dangerous. “I couldn’t do that to him. I love him.” Mab made a sound like a cat that had been trodden on the tail, and Nimue almost jumped back so she wouldn’t have to feel the claws. “I love him!” Nimue had to bite back the laughter. “You? You hate him!” Mab’s mask of anger seemed to melt into an expression of sadness. “I hate him too …” Her huge, cold eyes came to rest on Nimue’s. “Don’t you know that love and hatred go hand in hand?” Nimue couldn’t tear her gaze away other woman’s face; it was still as inhuman as it had ever been, but now it seemed alive, alive in a silent, painful way. Beneath the thick layers of make-up that served to cover any emotion that might have flickered across these features in times that were long gone, desperation broke through the smooth surface. “But no, how could you? You have never known what it is like to love and get only hatred in return. To offer your heart to someone and get it back with a dagger in it. Those wounds leave scars that run deeper than yours.”
Nimue blinked. What was Mab talking about? Hadn’t Merlin told her that she had no heart and was therefore unable to love? It had to be another trick: she was trying to get her compassion, trying to make her give in to temptation.
“Ah, but Merlin told you that I have no heart, that I have never loved and that I know only hatred and anger, and you believed him, without hesitating, without proof, without ever seeing yourself. Then again, you Christians pride yourselves in believing what you never saw. Isn’t that one of your greatest virtues, to believe in a God that might not even exist? To stand by him even when he never answered your cries for help? To get tortured and killed for something that isn’t real?” Mab’s face held a mixture of malice and curiosity. She really wanted to know the answer.
“God is here”, Nimue whispered. “We do not need to see him with our eyes, we sense his presence in our hearts. He is more real than you could ever be.” She resisted the urge to close her eyes and duck herself while she waited for a response. And it came, in a way she would never have expected.
Mab raised her hand and lightly touched Nimue’s cheek, her fingers could and smooth like marble, and yet so soft …”Don’t think that I cannot touch your heart, Nimue. I can.” Her face was open now, all falseness and anger were gone, and she seemed so vulnerable, her huge eyes windows to a soul that must once have been beautiful but was now scarred and crippled, without a chance at healing. Nimue wanted to reach out to it, to caress it, to hold it like a frightened child and whisper that all would be fine. Before she knew what happened, she leaned forward, and her lips brushed against Mab’s. Shortly and lightly, followed by surprise at their warmth.
They both stepped back at the same time, their eyes lingering on one another.
“My offer still stands, Nimue. Your scars can be healed. Think about it.”
Thunder rolled as the Queen of the Old Ways raised her arms. Then, the night fell apart, and with the shadow of a whisper she was gone.
I await your flames with my head bent down in shame.
Disclaimer: Mwhahahaha! I own them all, they're all mine, MINE! So keep your dirty hands off my mistakes!
Scars
It was long past midnight. The moonlight shone onto the peaceful scenery of the sleeping abbey of Avalon. It had crossed the sea, wandered across the roofs, caressed the hem of the white gown of the only woman who was still awake and wandering, and came to rest on the little mirror unseen hands had left under the ancient tree in the courtyard. After a while, it dutifully aimed its reflection at the wandering woman’s face.
Nimue raised her hand to protect her eyes from the unexpected light. Without really thinking, and certainly forgetting all she had ever heard about curiosity being a sin, she went to find the source of the light.
“A mirror … but there are no mirrors in Avalon …” ‘After all, that is the reason I am here, so I can hide even from myself. If I cannot see this farce of a face, it does not exist … Or does it?’ One hand clutched the shiny silver mirror in all its ornamented beauty. It seemed almost impossible that it could show anything except beauty. The other hand hesitantly reached for her veil. It trembled so much that she could hardly grasp it, and after hastily glancing around to make sure no one was watching this act of desperate vanity, she pulled the thin cloth down and revealed the ruin that had once been her face.
Nimue closed her eyes at once; she could not stand the way her reflection raped the mirror’s smooth purity. ‘How foolish of me to think that repression and a pretty piece of silver would melt my ugliness away.’
Like lightening, hot, searing pain shot through her and left her shaken to the core. She slowly opened her eyes and gasped at what she saw: nothing.
Not a single scar, not one line was spoiling her skin, it was as pure and shining as she could possibly whish for. She raised her hand again; she had to touch I, she had to make sure it was no illusion … no, it was real, her fingertips seemed to brush against velvet.
But through the haze of her joy crept unwelcome doubts: how could it be? How could it have happened, this miracle, this piece of magic that not even Merlin had been able to accomplish? ‘I can’t … Mab is too strong.’
Nimue lowered the mirror, half dreading and half knowing what she would see, and before her stood the Queen of the Old Ways, a creature made of moonlight and darkness, of doubts and nightmares that were yet to come. She raised her eyebrows and pulled a grimace she obviously thought to be a smile, asking with a voice that echoed from everywhere and nowhere and seemed to be right in Nimue’s head: “Do you see how I can change you?”
Images of flames and dragons and looming dark figures appeared in Nimue’s mind, and if sneering hadn’t been something thoroughly un-ladylike, she would have done it as she replied. “You changed me already. You scarred me.” The false smile was whipped off of Mab’s face in an instant. “I know … so unfair.” To hell with un-ladylikeness. Nimue snorted. “Unfair? It was evil!” ‘You are speaking of unfairness, you, with your skin purer than moonlight, you, who sent the dragon after me and made me the monster I am?’
“With evil all around me, I can do nothing but evil to survive!” Now it was Nimue’s turn to raise her brows, and she walked up to Mab, her white novice gown like a shield against the darkness that shone from Mab’s every pore. “Oh … that’s too easy. You can fight it, like Merlin!” Nimue realised that mentioning Merlin might have been a mistake. The only thing was, she realised too late. There was nothing fake left in her face as the Queen of the Old Ways swept around, her features livid with anger, and hissed. “It is because of Merlin that all this came about!” – “That’s not true!” ‘I won’t let you put all the blame on Merlin … you made him suffer so much …’ “Why are you here, Mab?”
The question seemed to bring her back to her senses, at least it brought back the false smirk, which, in a way, was even more frightening than her anger. “To make you an offer. I will restore your beauty if you take Merlin to a place that I choose. You can live with him there, ‘till the end of your days …”, she coaxed.
Nimue hesitated. It would be wonderful, to live with Merlin, away from the cruelty of the real world, unbothered by the burden of her deformity. There had to be something wrong with the offer. What if they would be trapped in a hell-like place for all eternity? “And be happy?” Mab rolled her eyes and sighed. “And be happy.” As thought she had answered that question a million times, and as though she had hoped that this time it would not come.
Nimue thought it over. It certainly was tempting: to forget the world and leave the king and his everlasting problems behind, to end Merlin’s eternal fight against Mab … it seemed so easy. Too easy, she thought as she noticed how Mab was staring at her; expectant, almost greedy, and she realised that it was just what she wanted: Merlin out of the way so she could restore her Old Ways. She shook her head. “It would keep him from his purpose.”, she murmured sadly. Mab hissed. “It would keep him from wasting his life!”
Nimue flinched. Could Mab possibly be right? Years and years of fighting, without ever getting anywhere … and yet. “He believes that fighting for what is right isn’t a waste.” She had regained her composure and her certainty. Mab’s offer was dangerous. “I couldn’t do that to him. I love him.” Mab made a sound like a cat that had been trodden on the tail, and Nimue almost jumped back so she wouldn’t have to feel the claws. “I love him!” Nimue had to bite back the laughter. “You? You hate him!” Mab’s mask of anger seemed to melt into an expression of sadness. “I hate him too …” Her huge, cold eyes came to rest on Nimue’s. “Don’t you know that love and hatred go hand in hand?” Nimue couldn’t tear her gaze away other woman’s face; it was still as inhuman as it had ever been, but now it seemed alive, alive in a silent, painful way. Beneath the thick layers of make-up that served to cover any emotion that might have flickered across these features in times that were long gone, desperation broke through the smooth surface. “But no, how could you? You have never known what it is like to love and get only hatred in return. To offer your heart to someone and get it back with a dagger in it. Those wounds leave scars that run deeper than yours.”
Nimue blinked. What was Mab talking about? Hadn’t Merlin told her that she had no heart and was therefore unable to love? It had to be another trick: she was trying to get her compassion, trying to make her give in to temptation.
“Ah, but Merlin told you that I have no heart, that I have never loved and that I know only hatred and anger, and you believed him, without hesitating, without proof, without ever seeing yourself. Then again, you Christians pride yourselves in believing what you never saw. Isn’t that one of your greatest virtues, to believe in a God that might not even exist? To stand by him even when he never answered your cries for help? To get tortured and killed for something that isn’t real?” Mab’s face held a mixture of malice and curiosity. She really wanted to know the answer.
“God is here”, Nimue whispered. “We do not need to see him with our eyes, we sense his presence in our hearts. He is more real than you could ever be.” She resisted the urge to close her eyes and duck herself while she waited for a response. And it came, in a way she would never have expected.
Mab raised her hand and lightly touched Nimue’s cheek, her fingers could and smooth like marble, and yet so soft …”Don’t think that I cannot touch your heart, Nimue. I can.” Her face was open now, all falseness and anger were gone, and she seemed so vulnerable, her huge eyes windows to a soul that must once have been beautiful but was now scarred and crippled, without a chance at healing. Nimue wanted to reach out to it, to caress it, to hold it like a frightened child and whisper that all would be fine. Before she knew what happened, she leaned forward, and her lips brushed against Mab’s. Shortly and lightly, followed by surprise at their warmth.
They both stepped back at the same time, their eyes lingering on one another.
“My offer still stands, Nimue. Your scars can be healed. Think about it.”
Thunder rolled as the Queen of the Old Ways raised her arms. Then, the night fell apart, and with the shadow of a whisper she was gone.
I await your flames with my head bent down in shame.
