'What about us?'
'There is no us, not anymore. Your father made sure of that.'
'....I feel like I'm interrupting a private moment.'
'You really are so perceptive aren't you, Merlin!'
❤︎
A tale ~ Whereupon a young queen, a witty warlock and an arroga...
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"No, no, no! Not like that!" Exclaimed Zipporah, as she ducked quickly when Merlin hurled a fireball right at her, barely missing her head by an inch.
Merlin's head whipped towards her, and realised how close he had been to burning her. He slowly lowered his hands, holding them behind his back, biting his lip apologetically.
"Sorry." He offered sheepishly.
"You almost scorched my hair off!" She informed loudly, running a hand over her black waves, just to make sure the strands were still in tact.
In an attempt of some kind of consolation, he counteracted, "yes, but almost. That's got to count for something."
"And what if next time, you almost, kill me?" She mused as she trudged over to him, though she wore the symbol of a smirk.
"Then, you will be sorely missed and I'll spend the rest of my life in an endless cycle of guilt and regret."
She threw him a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation.
"Very funny."
She smoothed over the skirt of her dress, where it had gotten wrinkled in the sudden excitement of the moment.
(𝚉𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚑'𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠)
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Merlin suddenly appeared a little downcast, moving his eyes to the grass. "Am I really that bad?"
Zipporah instantly sobered at his creeping anxiety, and internally scolded herself that she may have sounded a bit too harsh.
