February Song Fic – “Angel With a Shotgun” by The Cab

**apologies for the late posting…don’t know what happened when I scheduled this…
it didn’t post when I set it to. 🙁 **

Time for February’s song flash fic. This month’s song is “Angel With a Shotgun” by the Cab. Have a listen if you like:

I love this song, and have had something simmering about it since we chose songs for the year. I’m going to visit the world of my Albion’s Circle series for this one.

I’ve also written other flash fiction set in this world, if you’d like to have a read. 🙂

“Merlin’s Cave”
“The Hammers Coming Down”
“I Will Possess Your Heart”
“The Coldness”
“Ever The Same”
“Ghosts That We Knew”
Promptly Penned #20 – “One Last Time”
“Ghost”

Hope you enjoy this one, and what the others have come up with for “Angel With a Shotgun”.


~Merlin~

I slowly walked down the stairs. I’d slept longer than I planned. Hell, I hadn’t planned on sleeping at all until Arthur pushed his way into my room and forced me. I’d slept long and hard—if I didn’t know better, I’d suspect Arthur had magic and used a spell on me. I’d clearly needed the rest. Physically, I felt better than I had in a while, and more importantly, my mind was well clearer.

Not that I’d say or admit anything to Arthur. That would just get me his patented smug, knowing look—his fucking royalty bleeding through—and more fussing in the future.

I followed the voices through the lower level to the kitchen. I stopped in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the jamb, and bit back a sigh.

Not everyone was here—the newer members of our group were absent, as were some of the knights. I swallowed thickly as the face of one knight who would not join us again in this life filled my mind. Cursing inwardly, I shoved that aside, unwilling to spiral down that hole. Not now.

Arthur, Owain, and Lancelot sat at the large table, Owain pointing out something on his laptop screen to the others. Galahad and Will stood at the stove, playing grab-ass as they cooked. And Anna…my Anna was a few feet away, whisking eggs. I couldn’t see her face, but sadness radiated from her, and my heart ached. With the knowledge that I’d had a large part in bringing about that sadness. That more would come. It was inevitable. It always was.

The weight of responsibility, of duty, pressed down on me. The oppressive feeling all too familiar. It was an old friend, my constant for hundreds of years, for lifetimes. Only a handful of times had I shamefully wished it away. Those moments of weakness, when grief and despair and loneliness had taken their toll, never lasted long. Because I knew, I remembered, what I was fighting for.

Humanity.

The Circle was formed for that, after all. We vowed our lives—every one of them—to protect the world from Magical threat.

My friends.  Those I loved.

Arthur…the Circle…those who had bound themselves to us, to help us in our quest. Those I’d mourned again and again, and vowed to keep safe every time.

Her.

My Anna. Sweet Annwyl. I looked at her, heart aching still. Not with sadness, but with the depth of the love I had for this woman, the lengths I was willing to go to keep her safe and with me.

Then, slowly, she turned and met my gaze. And time stood still. It was only the two of us. She moved across the room and stopped in front of me. Eyes narrowed, she lifted her hands to cup my face and stared. Then, seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she nodded.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” she said softly, raising up on her toes.

I closed my eyes when her mouth pressed against mine. My magic pulsed and swelled…and rejoiced when hers answered, twisting and twining with mine, wrapping around the both of us.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, pulling back. “I know.”

Her smile took my breath away, as always. I’d stopped wondering long ago—so long ago, back in Camelot—if she’d ever stop having that effect on me. Anna and her magic would always overwhelm me, take my breath away, and make my heart ache. I accepted that more easily than any other fact of my life.

“I love you, too.” She held my gaze a moment longer than turned away, moving back to help her brother and Galahad finish with breakfast.

Yes, the weight still pressed down on me—the responsibility, the duty—and I had so much to do, but I knew what I was fighting for. I knew who I was fighting for. I would take all the weight, all the shit thrown at me, all the shameful moments I had to bear for what I had here. For her.


Bronwyn Green | Kris Norris | Siobhan Muir

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