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[169 - Protection} - Mordred's Lullaby
Challenge: [169] Protection
Title: Mordred's Lullaby
Author: Scribbler (obabscribbler )
Word Count: 304
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Characters: Merlin, Yuffie
Comments: Title comes from the song of the same name by Heather Dale
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Mordred’s Lullaby
© Scribbler, December 2008
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“Merlin, where did you come from?”
“An interesting question with multiple answers.”
“Okay, where did you come from first?”
“I believe this is the instance in which I should begin ‘When and Mummy and a Daddy love each other very much, they hug in a special way -”
“Ew! Grossness!” Yuffie stuck out her tongue so far she was practically giving herself a hickey. “What world did you come from before you ended up in Traverse Town?”
“A far distant one.”
“Well that was specific. Was it anything like Radiant Garden?”
Merlin’s gaze became unfocused. Yuffie was surprised. It wasn’t often he became so pensive unless talking about a particularly riveting (read: yawn-fest) piece of magical theory. “It had a castle,” he murmured. “And a king. A young one. I served him as court wizard. I was charged with protecting him against the pitfalls of youthful impetuousness and inexperience.”
“Say what?” Yuffie frowned when he didn’t reply. “Okay then, don’t explain. Was he a good king?”
“He was a very good king. He ushered in an age of wisdom, peace and prosperity until …” Merlin trailed off.
“Until what?” Yuffie prompted.
He said nothing for several minutes, staring at a knot in the wooden wall like he could see the past through it.
“Beardy!”
He blinked, startled back to himself. “Until I failed to protect him from his own youthful heart, a very calculating woman overturned everything he’d worked for out of her own greed and lust for power, and the Heartless followed her dark thoughts and destroyed everything so nobody could have it. There, now you know. Please don’t call me Beardy.” He scowled and left without another word, even though it was his house.
Yuffie watched him go, then shrugged and returned to making dolly-chains out of toilet roll. “Whatever.”
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You, stop breaking my heart, you.
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Nicely done.