#one day he returns with will from the forest and the old man simmons says 'hi little man' and merlin just grins

[camelove]

Quest for Camelove

Paring: Reader x Regret

Rating: T

Warnings: blood, violence, fainting, strong language, implied drinking

Summary: A regular trip to the Tavern sends you off searching for the vision of a soulmate... not your own, but of a random drunkard you’d been forced to sit beside for lack of any free seating.

A/N:  This post was made to serve as inspiration for the Camelove 2021 event which will take place from 8th till 14th of February. For more examples, follow the #Camelove2021 example posts tag! We look forward to seeing what you create for the event!

A writer, an artist and a giffer walk into a bar. 

You’re one of them. 

You’re good at what you do - if you do say so yourself - but recently, inspiration has been running dry. So, as one does when hit by a dry spell, you’re stopping by the Tavern in hopes of drowning your frustrations. 

As you make your way inside, you look around at the sorry bunch of sloshed sods, wrinkling your nose at the claggy smell of sweat and cringing away from a man who collapses against the table in front of you, having just been socked in the nose by one of the other customers. 

You sigh long-sufferingly. To your despair, there’s at least one person crammed into every nook in the damn place. If you want to sit anywhere, you’ll be getting up-close and personal with one of your fellow patrons. 

You weigh up your options - briefly considering just turning around and heading home - but eventually your thirst wins out, and you resolve to suck it up and squeeze yourself into whatever spot seems the least unappealing. You set about ordering a drink and, once armed with two pints of apple juice, you turn to deciding whose company you’re going to subject yourself to. In the end, you pick... 

A - The stooped elder currently engrossed in a book of lizard anatomy

B - The bloody-nosed man at your feet who’s slowly returning to consciousness 

C - The bloody-knuckled person responsible for the man at your feet who’s slowly returning to consciousness

D - The Barkeep who’s wringing out a cloth, looking like they wish it were the neck of their current customer

E - The customer who’s pissing off the Barkeep with inane complaints 

F - The person nursing their wrist after getting thoroughly trounced in an arm-wrestle

G - The person at the dart-board who’s started directing their shots towards the bard in the corner

H - The bard in the corner currently using their lute as a shield while simultaneously warbling about pixies with long, agile tongues

I - The person crying alone in the corner opposite to the bard

J - The person in the other corner currently shoving their tongue-- actually, scratch that, they look busy-- 

K - The cloaked figure at the final corner table who you see surreptitiously swapping a coin for a vial of… something

L - None. You turn on your heel and stalk out, planning to join the horses, only to find that someone has decided to hit the hay right there amongst the muck. They startle and wake as you approach. 

...who, you later find out is: 

A - Old Man Simmons 

B - Julius Borden

C - Balinor 

D - Mary the Barmaid 

E - Dragoon

F - Valiant

G - Elena

H- Gilli

I - Edwin Muirden

J - Tristan and Isolde

K - Will 

L - Tyr

You flop down and pray that for the love of Camelot, your unwanted companion does not decide to get chatty. 

“Hey.” 

You groan and let your head thump against the surface before you. 

“Hey,” they persist, leaning closer. You roll your head to the side in order to send them a scathing glare. They tut sympathetically. “Bad day? I feel you, mate.” 

You wonder to yourself what you’d done to deserve this. 

Your parasite companion keeps talking. 

“Everything’s just a bit much, lately,” they sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m not going crazy, you know?” ‘Oh, really?’ you want to snark back, but you keep your lips zipped in hopes that they’ll take a hint. 

They don’t. 

“I mean, it’s not every day a dragon says you have a soulmate.” They whistle lowly. “I mean - a soulmate. Can you imagine?” 

You can’t, actually. Mostly because you wonder who could stand the company of such a blabbering prat. If the dragon had told them they knew where they’d meet their doom, you’d have gladly taken up the role yourself. 

“Well,” they continue, oblivious to your plotting of their demise. “He didn’t say soulmate, exactly. He said “Destiny”, though I figure that’s basically the same thing. Still - I could meet the person meant to complete me - the apple of my eye, the other side of my coin, the courage to my strength…” 

You roll your eyes and hit them with a deadpan expression. 

“Bully for you.” Their eyes widen. 

“Oh, I hope not,” they say, sounding worried, “I wouldn’t want my soulmate to be an ass.” 

‘Why the hell not?’ you brood, ‘you’d be a matching set.’

They sigh from beside you, a melancholy look overtaking their features. 

“Wish I could go after them myself, but I’ve just… y’know. Got too much stuff on my plate to go tracking down some hidden stranger.” 

‘But you have ample time to talk one’s ear off? Glad to see you have your priorities in order.’ 

They’re twiddling their thumbs nervously. Their eyes keep flicking towards your face and away again. You purse your lips tighter. “Though... I know it’s not like I’m the only one who has a job to do. I’ll happily compensate, mind.” 

You take a sip of your juice. You look over at them. You sigh. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

They perk up immediately at the sight of your attention. 

“I know you,” they blurt. You edge away slightly. “Not in - not in a creepy way. I just follow you.” You edge away another few inches.  “I mean- wait. The stuff you post out, I scroll past it, sometimes. I always like it.” 

“You mean ‘stroll’.” 

“I said that, yeah.” 

Despite yourself, you’re flattered. You put a lot of effort and pride into your work, and it’s always pleasant to hear that someone appreciates it. You grunt out a thanks. 

“I just mean-” they’re fidgeting again, and you wonder what has them so worked up. Clearly, they’re sitting on a question, and it’s just when they’re beginning to get a constipated colour to their cheeks that you sigh, heavily. 

“Just ask.”

“How much d’you want? To - uh - find my soulmate?” 

A shocked silence, before- 

“What?” 

“How much d’you want? A hundred? Two hundred? Mind you, I’m talking copper, I haven’t got a lot on me right now-” 

“Why-” you interrupt, wild with disbelief, “in Albion’s name would I want to go and find your Soulmate?” 

“Er…” They scratch at their head. “You mean you don’t know?” 

“Know what?” 

“What the dragon said.” 

“What did the dragon say?” 

“It said that- well…” They shuffle awkwardly. “He said that I just had to wait and… help would come to me. And I waited. And you came to me.” 

You stare. They wince. “He, uh... he said it was Destiny?”

You continue to stare. 

“Why me?”

“Well... I’m not... entirely sure.” They cough into their fist, avoiding your eyes. Then they perk up. “But you’ve done a lot of work for couples in the past, right? Put ‘em together in those lovely pieces of yours.”

You grit your teeth, grinding them together. 

“I create fanworks of them,” you hiss, “I don’t- play their bloody matchmaker, and I certainly don’t go gallivanting across the five kingdoms to do so, either.” 

“You wouldn’t have to go through all five kingdoms,” they have the audacity to say, as though that’ll soothe your ire, “only, like, two. Camelot and Mercia.” They deflate slightly at your unimpressed glare. “C’mon,” they whine, “You’re so skilled. I’m sure you could pull something off.” 

You continue to glare. You pin them with it until they squirm and flush, looking down. With a sigh, you turn away and stare into your juice. You drink. Slam the pint glass down, sharp. 

“I’ll go collect your damn damsel.”  

Their eyes light up. 

“You will?” they gush. “Cailleach below, if I didn’t have a Soulmate, I’d ask you to marry me.” 

You grimace. 

“Please don’t.” 

They babble out a recount of the cryptic information the dragon had given them. You nod here and there, mostly letting their words fly over your head, only taking a mental note of the stuff that might be of use. You’ll face many difficult decisions. Light will come to your aid. Take a note of any numbers you choose along the way. At the end of it, you’ll find a vision of the one you’re searching for. 

It’s more for yourself than them that you’re doing this, you say to yourself. Who knows; this trip might be the spark you need to fire up your creativity. Besides, you’ve been cooped up inside long enough. It’s high time you got out a bit. 

That’s how, half an hour and a few more pints of apple-flavoured drinks later, you’re picking thorns from your person after having fallen into a bush in the middle of the woods, and you find yourself faced with a fork in the path. One prong takes you through the forest. The other, through caves.

As you mull over which path you should take, you wonder what kind of person this elusive Soulmate will be. 

Will this pairing be sweet? Or will it be a bit more… unsavory? 

Once you've gone through and collected the numbers, click here

#camelove2021 #camelove2021 example posts #Day 7: Free day #Quest for Camelove