The Faerie Ring
folder
M through R › Merlin (BBC)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,024
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Merlin (BBC)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,024
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Merlin and I’m not making any money from this story either.
The Faerie Ring
The Faerie Ring
Flora_Winters
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin and I’m not making any money from this story either. I will be making many of these characters gay, just because I have the magical enchantments to make them so. In fact, I don’t really have to try that hard. I don’t even need to trick a certain ward into stealing me a silly little crystal. The BBC has mostly done all the work for me. Goddess bless them in all their strange and unusual ways.
Summary: A powerful force rallies the followers of the Old Religion in hopes of destroying Camelot once and for all. What is a young warlock to do? A/M slash
Prologue
The dark forest was in deep shadow, but a silver beam of splendid moonlight was dancing upon the shimmering surface of the calm and serene looking pool. A ring of vine covered stones, standing higher than the largest of unicorn, surrounded it on all sides.
These stones were as black as the very heart of darkness and shinier than polished mirror glass. Blossoms, the color of spilled blood, bloomed like so many deaths upon a battlefield. Their thorns were hidden within the folds of emerald and ruby splendor. Their prick was far deadlier than any blade.
This secret, enchanted place was hidden beyond the eyes of humans, shrouded in dangerously deceptive mists. It was here that the fey danced and worshipped their gods. No mortal could step within the stones and ever leave to tell about it.
A cool breeze gently whispered among the dew soaked leaves upon the flowering vines. The perfumed air was filled, humming with a silent rage, a wrath blossoming redder than the blooms upon their vines. It seethed with anger and thirsted for the throats of sacrifice.
The moonbeam shattered in a bellow of thunder and the black stones began to glow violet. The once calm pool became a violent whirlpool and the wind howled with the cries of ravenous hounds.
In a diamond explosion of water, a hooded figure stood upon the whirling face of the turbulent pool. Molten sapphire blue eyes burned from out of darkness as large white hounds stepped from the glowing stones. The tips of their pointy ears looked as if they had had been delicately painted with fresh blood.
Folds upon folds of spidery black silk billowed, flapping about like the wings of ravens as the lithe figure walked across the surface of the pool, kneeling upon the green grass before the largest of the hounds. A shapely hand, the color of fresh fallen snow, petted the hound on its long pearly snout. The glossy nails were long, dagger sharp. They were beautiful and terribly cruel.
“I’ve had quite enough,” the nectar sweet voice spoke, light as a bubble, deeper than a venomous pit of blissful poison. “I believe it is time we go hunting. Don’t you?”
All nine of the hounds howled with one long, terrifying note. Their howls were the frost that coated tombstones and sent tormented souls screaming.
The figure stood, throwing back its dark hood. Waves upon waves of crimson locks spilled, cascading around and about a stunning, bone white face. If his hair was to ever be touched by sunlight, it would appear as a brilliant halo of wild flame.
He turned his immortal gaze upon that which offended him. It was a society of oppression, being looked down upon by gleaming towers of hypocrisy.
“I shall raise you to the ground upon which my feet stand firmly,” he spoke to the kingdom of Camelot, setting his hounds loose with a fanged grin. “And then I’ll set you on fire just because.”
He picked a death blossom and tenderly placed it behind a pointy ear before stalking like a miasma out of the ring. Trees bowed out of his way, stones crumbled before him, bushes shook in reverence, and dips in the ground would rise up to keep his path smooth and steady.
“Attend to me, you who follow the Old Ways,” he spoke upon the stormy winds. “Rise up and smash this blemish so far into the earth, it will never rise again!”
Monstrous hounds howled in utter delight as lightning split the sky open.
~*~
In his warm bed, a young man bolted upright in a cold sweat. It was as if he had felt the icy sweet breath of death hissing about his neck.
~*~
Deep under the castle, a patient dragon chuckled.
To Be Continued…
Flora_Winters
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin and I’m not making any money from this story either. I will be making many of these characters gay, just because I have the magical enchantments to make them so. In fact, I don’t really have to try that hard. I don’t even need to trick a certain ward into stealing me a silly little crystal. The BBC has mostly done all the work for me. Goddess bless them in all their strange and unusual ways.
Summary: A powerful force rallies the followers of the Old Religion in hopes of destroying Camelot once and for all. What is a young warlock to do? A/M slash
Prologue
The dark forest was in deep shadow, but a silver beam of splendid moonlight was dancing upon the shimmering surface of the calm and serene looking pool. A ring of vine covered stones, standing higher than the largest of unicorn, surrounded it on all sides.
These stones were as black as the very heart of darkness and shinier than polished mirror glass. Blossoms, the color of spilled blood, bloomed like so many deaths upon a battlefield. Their thorns were hidden within the folds of emerald and ruby splendor. Their prick was far deadlier than any blade.
This secret, enchanted place was hidden beyond the eyes of humans, shrouded in dangerously deceptive mists. It was here that the fey danced and worshipped their gods. No mortal could step within the stones and ever leave to tell about it.
A cool breeze gently whispered among the dew soaked leaves upon the flowering vines. The perfumed air was filled, humming with a silent rage, a wrath blossoming redder than the blooms upon their vines. It seethed with anger and thirsted for the throats of sacrifice.
The moonbeam shattered in a bellow of thunder and the black stones began to glow violet. The once calm pool became a violent whirlpool and the wind howled with the cries of ravenous hounds.
In a diamond explosion of water, a hooded figure stood upon the whirling face of the turbulent pool. Molten sapphire blue eyes burned from out of darkness as large white hounds stepped from the glowing stones. The tips of their pointy ears looked as if they had had been delicately painted with fresh blood.
Folds upon folds of spidery black silk billowed, flapping about like the wings of ravens as the lithe figure walked across the surface of the pool, kneeling upon the green grass before the largest of the hounds. A shapely hand, the color of fresh fallen snow, petted the hound on its long pearly snout. The glossy nails were long, dagger sharp. They were beautiful and terribly cruel.
“I’ve had quite enough,” the nectar sweet voice spoke, light as a bubble, deeper than a venomous pit of blissful poison. “I believe it is time we go hunting. Don’t you?”
All nine of the hounds howled with one long, terrifying note. Their howls were the frost that coated tombstones and sent tormented souls screaming.
The figure stood, throwing back its dark hood. Waves upon waves of crimson locks spilled, cascading around and about a stunning, bone white face. If his hair was to ever be touched by sunlight, it would appear as a brilliant halo of wild flame.
He turned his immortal gaze upon that which offended him. It was a society of oppression, being looked down upon by gleaming towers of hypocrisy.
“I shall raise you to the ground upon which my feet stand firmly,” he spoke to the kingdom of Camelot, setting his hounds loose with a fanged grin. “And then I’ll set you on fire just because.”
He picked a death blossom and tenderly placed it behind a pointy ear before stalking like a miasma out of the ring. Trees bowed out of his way, stones crumbled before him, bushes shook in reverence, and dips in the ground would rise up to keep his path smooth and steady.
“Attend to me, you who follow the Old Ways,” he spoke upon the stormy winds. “Rise up and smash this blemish so far into the earth, it will never rise again!”
Monstrous hounds howled in utter delight as lightning split the sky open.
~*~
In his warm bed, a young man bolted upright in a cold sweat. It was as if he had felt the icy sweet breath of death hissing about his neck.
~*~
Deep under the castle, a patient dragon chuckled.
To Be Continued…