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posted by BradAngeleyes
Tristan and Isolt's conflict of Любовь and loyalty is one of the classic tales of Western literature; in the Arthurian tradition, their tragic tragectory rivals and complements that of Lancelot and Guinevere. The basic story is one of mis-directed love: Tristan, the heroic nephew of King Mark of Cornwall, is sent to Ireland to escort the Irish king's daughter, the beautiful Isolt, to Cornwall to become his uncle's bride. In most versions, it is during the return voyage that Tristan and Isolt accidentally consume a Любовь potion (meant to ensure Isolt's happiness with Mark) together, and fall in love. Because Isolt's engagement to Mark cannot be broken, she marries the king despite her Любовь for Tristan, and the two Влюбленные spend the rest of their lives attempting to satisfy their desire for each other without revealing that desire to Mark and the Cornish court. Virtually all versions of the legend revolve around conflicting themes of romantic Любовь and political loyalty, though no two tellings treat these themes identically.

In spite of this preference for action over love, Tristan and Isolde hold a place in the Morte d’Arthur comparable to that of the other great Любовь story, that of Lancelot and Guinevere. Lancelot and Tristan are called the two greatest knights and greatest Влюбленные by Merlin, and the fairness of the two ladies is often compared. The basic outline of their tales is similar in that both knights are caught in a dangerous треугольник of emotion that pits their Любовь for their ladies against their loyalty to their king. The stories of the pairs are not, however, merely variations on a theme; there are notable contrasts between the two tales, not the least of which is the disparity between the two kings involved-- the generally noble and good Arthur has little in common with the malicious Mark.
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posted by kbrand5333
 Image courtesy of ivanka-ctc/checkthe czech
Image courtesy of ivanka-ctc/checkthe czech
So this is my post-s5 Arwen fic. It is Arwen, though it takes place after season 5, I promise.


    When Gaius told her, she felt a flurry of emotions. Shock. Joy. Sadness. Anger. Fear.
    Guinevere, Queen of Camelot, was with child.
    Shock, because they had been trying for over three years with no results. She was beginning to fear that she was barren.
    Joy, because she had something of Arthur left within her, something good and innocent and pure that would carry on his legacy.
    Sadness,...
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Part 7: link


-Finale-

    The час comes at last, after Arthur cursing the sun, swearing it is moving the wrong way, changing his trousers three times, and forgetting how to fasten his belt.
    He stands at the front of the great hall, Geoffrey at hand, still and calm as always. His presence should have a calming effect on Arthur, but instead it only serves to annoy him.
    “Any минута now, Sire,” Merlin says, stepping up to straighten Arthur’s куртка and otherwise check that he looks perfect on the outside, even if he is trying...
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posted by kbrand5333
Part 32: link


    Being Friday night, parking is troublesome. Lance finds a place for his Citroën a ways up the block, and Arthur piggybacks on the spot, squeezing his motorcycle in sideways in front of Lance’s car, the front tire on the sidewalk.
    “Arthur, you’re going to get a citation,” Gwen cautions, but Arthur seems unconcerned.
    “Nice motorbike,” Lance Комментарии as Gwen once again stuffs Arthur’s куртка away.
    “Thank you. Her name is Morgana,” Arthur says, sweeping his arm grandly.
    “Morgana?...
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posted by kbrand5333
 Had to add it. Just had to.
Had to add it. Just had to.
Okay, I will confess: I normally hate fics that steal from song lyrics. But I Любовь this song and have always found its story charming, and it seemed a perfect fit. Song lyrics are in italics, like mini-chapter headings. Hope Ты enjoy.

Bus stop, wet day, she's there, I say,
Please share my umbrella.


    It’s raining. Again. I’ve gotten into the habit of carrying my umbrella with me constantly this summer it’s been so wet. I glance at my watch and sigh, just having missed the Назад bus. That means nine minutes. Nine минуты of standing here in the damp. But at least...
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posted by sportyshuie
link
link

    Gwen folded the sheets and arranged them nicely at the edge of the huge bed. Wiping the sweat that trickled down the side of her temple, she circled Uther’s постель, кровати and walked over to the late king’s cupboard. She thrust it open, took out some of Uther’s favourite attire and closed the cupboard. She took the attire and hung it over Uther’s favourite chair by his таблица and took a step back.
    “Hmm… this will do nicely today,” she сказал(-а) to herself and smiled.
    Stepping forward, she wiped the speck of dust on...
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posted by sportyshuie
link
link
link
link

    Gwen played with her food. She is not hungry, though she knows she has to eat. She still has some undone chores back in the castle, and she needs energy to complete them, but not even the delectable Еда in front of her could get her attention. Finally she pushed the plate away and sighed, leaning back against the chair. Someone knocked at the door. Gwen looked startled. The knock came again, this time in a hurry. She tightened her fingers around the cup she held while the other grabbed the edge of the table, her nails planted into the firm wood.
    “Gwen?”...
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posted by kbrand5333
Fic 8: link

Cookies

Prompt: Arthur and Gwen bake Рождество печенье together


“Merlin, can Ты help me with—” Arthur stops cold, staring at the person in his kitchen. “You’re not Merlin,” he says dumbly, finishing pulling his tie free from its knot.

“Hi, Arthur,” Gwen answers, chuckling. She is measuring flour into a bowl. “Sorry, Merlin took an extra shift at the hospital. My духовой шкаф, печь is broken, and he сказал(-а) I could bake my Рождество печенье here. Hope that’s okay.”

“Um, yeah,” he stammers. “It’s fine, Guinevere.” Arthur is thrown by her appearance in their apartment. Certainly...
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posted by kbrand5333
FIc 4: link

Gingerbread

Prompt: They came upon a midnight clear


“Oh, God…” she gasps, his lips on her neck, heading for her cleavage. He eases her down on вверх of the pile of coats on a постель, кровати in a spare bedroom near the back of the house.

“You taste as good as Ты smell,” he murmurs against her skin. “Like…” he pauses, pressing a delicious open-mouthed Kiss just above her collarbone, “…gingerbread?” He lifts his head and looks at her.

“Scented and flavored shimmer powder,” she explains, giggling.

“Very festive,” he says, grinning lasciviously before dropping his lips back...
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