❝fill my sorrow, with the words you've borrowed...❞
[season 1]
[disclaimer: i do not own the merlin universe, all rights reserved. i do, however, own all of my original characters and plotlines]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
➸➸➸
If the world were fair, would all be happy? Or would they find pieces of their utopia to hang off of and poison paradise? These were the things going through a young Ophelia's mind as she walked the path to Camelot. These, however, were not random thoughts. She had been told by many that Camelot was the land of dreams and that all who entered had their deepest wishes granted. So she thought of utopias and their impossibilities, what else would a young woman think of?
"Phe?" A small voice rattled through her ears and she turned her head to meet the gaze of the boy next to her. He was small in stature, barely a head above her, and thin. The kind of slim that you could only reach from a lifetime of poverty. She knew it well, for her frame was just as thin, if not worse. Blue eyes searched her face for any hint of interest. Ophelia blinked up at her companion, ocean-coloured eyes finally focusing.
"Sorry, I was..." she stopped, realizing that her thoughts had fluttered away with the wind, "elsewhere."
"Well, quit looking so pensive! We're on an adventure!" The boy smiled so wide it must have hurt, but she couldn't help the small smirk that glanced across her cherry tinted lips. That smile was one that had saved her countless times. It could bring her back from the worst kind of spirals, the kind that sends you barreling in circles endlessly. She remembered the first time that smile had brought her back, the first time she had felt the touch of kindness.
"Ophelia!" A large hand cupped the throat of a young girl perched among the grass. Her hair twisted deviously down her back, what appeared to be a bird's nest sat atop her head. If one looked closer, they would see that this was merely a matted spot in the young girl's unwashed caramel hair. "What on Earth do you think you are doing?!"
Ophelia struggled against the pressure on her slim throat, eyes pleading for its release. The rough hand was connected to a large man, full of muscle and tension. The anger radiated through his chest and pulsated in the hand that pushed at her throat.
"f...f...ath...er..." Ophelia muffled out, struggling to maintain her breathing. "p..p..ple..ase.."
There was no way to understand the anger inside of her father, not once had she seen a smile grace his firm lips. She had merely been seated in the grass, catching and releasing the fireflies flying above her. Her laugh had echoed through the forest just beyond her feet, the forest she so wished to escape through. Perhaps it was her happiness he despised, perhaps her kindness to the fireflies at releasing them, or perhaps, it was merely something he had enjoyed. Causing pain to his youngest child.
Something sounded from just beyond the wood, a subtle sound but it was heard nonetheless. Ophelia was released suddenly, she fell to her knees and grasped her throat, breathing the air that had eluded her moments before. She coughed and gagged, tears coming to her eyes as she felt the bruised ring around her throat. Her father unsheathed his sword, eyes set on the trees in front of him.
