Merlin One-Shots!!

Mr Loverman

This is set in Victorian England so I have pictured Merlin to look like this...

•
I'm Mr Loverman
And I miss my
lover man
•

The skies grew dark over Avalon. Not a single cloud smudged against the navy canvas of night allowing the soft kiss of moonlight to grace the lake. Green grasses lap at clear waters, as if it is the land that cuddles up to the lake, creating a view that breathes.

On one side acres of forest stretch over rolling hills, their peaks breaking above the ocean of evergreen. On the other stands a town through which lay a maze of cobblestone road that often runs alongside the water. Even at this hour the town is teeming with life; the sound of horses hooves and rickety carriage wheels echoing down the streets.

Every house on the lake front stood tall, curtains drawn with slithers of light breaking through. Squished together as if they couldn't bear to part, sharing walls and forming a row of storybook perfect rooftop peaks. In the gentle light of the moon the houses looked brighter than their normal brick red, more vibrant and lively. Even the flower boxes resting outside each window seemed to bloom larger that night.

Standing separate from the terraced houses was a tiny cottage situated on the corner of the road closest the the lake. Bushes wrapped around the property to the point you could barely see the roof over them. Within the walls of green a tiny medieval esque cottage stood crooked in a bed of wild flowers and slightly overgrown grass. 

A stone well was placed adjacent to the building although its function was unclear. Thick vines had wrapped around the chain rendering it useless yet the bucket looked practically new. Decoration or not it certainly enhanced the fairy tale aesthetic, bringing magic to this small corner of Avalon.

A bay window protruded out of the wall curtains pulled back to allow the crackling fire light to spill out. Sat on the padded window seat staring into the sky sat a young man with semi-long dark hair that curled around his ears in the most delicate of fashion. His unshaven face despite the scruff still maintained a sense of innocence that so many craved.

Although this man was far from innocent. There were horrors in his past that could keep a man up for weeks on end. But on nights like this when nature was at peace he allowed himself to breathe, to forget. So he sat and smiled to the moon bathing in the serenity he rarely ever felt.

The whistle of a kettle broke the silence and with a sigh Merlin rose from his seat and set about preparing his tea. As he poured the scalding water his mind wandered as it always does. He drifted to his years back home, his real home. Camelot had fallen over a thousand years ago reduced to a legend yet it felt more like home than ever. He missed is quarters, his job, the simplicity of life back then.