Legendborn Oneshots

Beloved

He was always getting hurt. It made me wonder if he even felt pain anymore.

*********

Today, like every day before I was sitting in Nick's bedroom. It was past dinner and the lodge had separated into those who were off duty and everyone else completing rounds with Sel. I listened in the tactical meetings, but never felt like a constructive part of it. Only ceremonial. Or worse, decorative. I gave my opinion on the best strategies and cosigned the ones I felt were bound to succeed. Yet, it was easy to see no one really needed me there. All the other Legendborn had been doing this since they were in diapers. Keeping up was all I could manage.

Afterwards, I'd go down to the training rooms and train. Get a good workout. Build up my endurance. Spar if anyone was around. Even if they were too scared to throw a punch on their fragile King. Soon, that too became frustrating.

Then, I started sneaking out. Outside where I didn't have to temper my flames. There I didn't hide what I could really do. There were too many eyes at the Lodge. The Regents could catch word that I was a lot more than the Crown Scion.

I was root. I was ancestry. I was power.

Naturally, it wasn't long before I started getting caught. Some of my babysitters felt bad for me and just came to supervise. Others had no problem reporting me right to Selwyn. Tonight, the latter had happened.

For once he hadn't even yelled at me. Just gave me an exasperated look and stomped off to his bedroom to tend to his wound. Somehow that look of exhaustion wounded more than his terse words. Made me wish I could at least have a few rounds to scream just to take the edge off.

I don't know why, but I followed him up the stairs to his tall dark tower of a room. The door wasn't closed all the way for once. I peered in and watched him tend to a wound on his shoulder. Of course, he was shirtless. The skin around it bulged and was darkly bruised. His eyes looked distant as I watched his lips count backwards from five. Before he reached one, Sel popped his shoulder back into its socket. A painfilled cry roared out that didn't sound entirely human.

I winced and accidentally nudged the door. His yellow moonlight eyes flew up immediately. Both of us sharing equal measures of surprise. Then Sel let out a humorless laugh.

"Hmm... the prude turned peeping Tom." Sel scoffed and continue to massage his shoulder. I wasn't sure what to say, but my feet pulled me into his room. I shut the door behind me.

"Is there something I can help you with? Not that what I say to you matters. Clearly, you've got a sieve for a brain." He ranted rotating both shoulders now. I tried to reason through my emotions, and didn't like what came to the surface.

Why did guilt always bring me to his door?

I didn't want him to hear that from me. At least not yet. " A-are you in pain?" I queried eyes tracing down to his shoulder. It was a Herculean effort to keep them from outlining the rest of his body.

"Pain is inevitable in the life of a soldier." He snorted rising from the edge of his bed. At a distance his figure still towered. Still aimed to intimidate. I hated hearing that tag line. It sounded like someone else's voice. I could just imagine an older Merlin screaming it at him over and over until he did every drill perfectly.

"Suffering is optional. Or so they say." I quipped quietly. He didn't say anything more and retreated into his bathroom. Now I really felt like an intruding peeping Tom. Still, I didn't want to leave. Not yet.

I paced over to the tower of tomes and candles on the edge of his room near the window. Most of the titles were related to his major. Classical literature. Philosophy. But other books surprised me. I pulled Toni Morrison's Beloved and thumbed through the well-worn pages. Some things were underlined in pencil. Suddenly it felt like I was holding his diary.

His eyes traced my back sending a tingling down my spine.

I didn't turn around, but I could hear him shuffling behind me. I kept going through all the quotes he'd underlined until the tingling of his eyes faded away. I heard a door close, the shower started, but I couldn't pull myself away from this book. It felt like I was getting to know Sel better just by seeing which lines made him feel something. Although...to be fair... you couldn't read Beloved and feel nothing.

The story of a mother who would rather kill each of her children then let them live a life of slavery. Then suddenly one of them comes back to life years later, still looking for her mother's love. Her name, Beloved.

Made me think of Vera. The desperation she must have felt to escape. To get out alive.

As the light died behind the horizon line I moved onto his bed and turned on the lamp. Still moving from passage to passage. Getting caught up in entire scenes just to remember the context of each underlined piece.

"Definitions belong to the definers, not the defined." Sel's deep voice curled out beside me. I flinched surprised, wondering if he'd purposefully snuck up on me or if I was too dazed to realized he was right above me.

"That's my favorite quote from that one." He explained further and I nodded, understanding. Even after his shower he was shirtless, wearing some low hanging baggy black sweatpants. Smelling like something clean and delicious from his bathroom.

I hummed my understanding grateful that the tension from his nonexistent scolding, then the awkward rigidity from my entrance had now transmuted into comfortable silence.

"My mother always used to say "Something that is loved is never lost." It wasn't until I read this book that I realized where she'd gotten it from." I marveled never taking my eyes away from the pages.

"Open the front cover." Sel directed. I flipped the pages and gasped.

Property of Natasia Kane

"Oh! Sel, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have touched this!" I sat up straight as a board and gingerly shut the pages. I was handling his keepsake from his mother. God knows how many things of hers he owned.

"Chhh... don't worry about it. I'd forgotten that was even on the shelf until just now. I'm sure it was no coincidence that both our mother's liked that book." He sat next to me, but his eyes were distant. "My mother said it was a gift from a friend. May have been your mom. Seems likely now after what you said about my mom visiting you in the hospital." Sel Sherlocked his way through and my heart fluttered at the realization.

I stumbled onto something our mothers had in common. Something they each shared with us. Now we had it in common too. It made everything feel like fate. Made the two of us feel destined.

"Wow. I wonder if they knew we'd meet each other one day." I beamed finally looking away from the magical book and into his eyes. Stubborn droplets of water still clung to his hair. Curled strands swept behind his ears. He was so terribly handsome.

His eyes turned intense as the smallest smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

"Unfortunately, us being part of the Order seems like our mother's worst nightmares. As for us meeting... maybe they thought about it when things between them were...simpler." Selwyn twisted up being realistic with what sounded like unfamiliar optimism.

A tinge of guilt suddenly emerged in my gut again. I had to pull out Brave Bree.

"Selwyn." He seemed to pause at my rare use of his full name. I persisted. "I'm af- no.... that's not it. I feel useless here. I can't patrol. I'm not useful in the strategy meetings. I can barely train, at least not the way I want to. How can I be King when I don't feel like I even belong here?" I choked out. Hating how pathetic it all sounded.

Sel never just listened with his ears. I could feel him taking me in with all of his senses. My fist curled into my jeans, my heart jumping behind my ribs, the sweat accumulating behind my neck. Every signal my body was giving was his to interpret.

"Stop worrying about what you can't do, mystery girl. You've got more talents than the rest of us combined. Lean into what comes natural. Wearing someone else's chainmail will never fit." Sel replied sagely. He lifted his hand to the side of my face brushing his thumb over my cheek.

Now more than ever he felt like my Kingsmage.