~The Reaping: District 8~
Arthur and Morgana - District 2
Percival and Morgause - District 1
Lancelot and Guinevere District 8
Merlin and Freya - District 11
[EXTRACT FROM THE FIC I’M WRITING FOR THIS]
Gwen smoothed down her dress, pulled a piece of stray hair off her face, rubbed a spot of dirt from her arm, anything she could do to keep herself steady for the next ten minutes. The silence was falling now, the moment approaching, and Gwen wished, as she wished every year, that she could run in the opposite direction. Her heart fluttered nervously. Her name was in a lot this year. Their father had been sick, he’d needed the food, and Gwen would never weaken in her resolve that it was worth it. She’d risk this if it meant saving her father. She let her gaze wander through the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces, and she found a small mercy in remembering that Elyan was nineteen now. He was standing behind safety lines, waiting anxiously.
As Gwen’s eyes moved from face to face, she focused on one staring back at her. Her heart gave a slight skip as she realised it was Lancelot Du Lac, the stable master’s son. He was a friend to them, he had always been at Elyan’s side, always looking out for her and her mother, slipping them extra ratons where he could. Gwen offered a small smile. Lance didn’t return it. He looked worried. Perhaps, Gwen thought with slight blush, he knew about the extra food.
The microphone echoed out Gwen’s death sentence lazily, allowing the syllables ring our over the sea of heads now turning in her direction. Gwen felt her cheeks blush and her stomach twist. Don’t cry. She begged herself. With as much courage as she could muster, Gwen moved from her place in the crowd, eyes crawling all over her, hearing that ridiculous woman searching for her, telling her to make herself known. Gwen was glad the crowd was so thick, because seeing Elyan and her Father would have most likely broken her. Gwen had no idea how she made it up the steps, and she hardly remembered walking across that stage, but she stood as bravely as she could in front of the microphone, giving her name in a soft voice, on the fringe of self control, but then her eyes found Lancelot in the crowd, and she felt herself crumpling.
[more graphics and excerpts to follow. I’m doing a few Reaping ones, probably one for each district I’ve included ;] Also, these excerpts are choppy. The line indicates a break in text]