A/N Can you spot all the crossovers?
The Game Is Rigged, But Try Again
The first time fate fucks them over, he's the half-French Godfrey, and he's the stable hand history would not remember.
He had reached up from the horse blankets and the hay to trace the still healing scar on the side of his face, only to be backhanded for his trouble.
When someone asked where Godfrey went, it wasn't like he was the only one with the answer.
They never saw each other again, and when next he heard of Godfrey, it was of his death. The news was mingled with the cheers of people in the streets.
He cried though even he didn't understand why.
The universe tried again, much later, and though the current society would call itself civilized, it still carried oft bloodied clubs.
He called himself Ernest and it was a bit of a poor joke really, but the other man still laughed.
It was almost good, for a while, the lies mixed in made everything so sickly sweet it was hard to taste the rot. Then someone asked Lord Blackwood who he was.
Then the man who would be Ernest was just Jack, imprisoned for his indecent behavior while in society.
He died from infection, and the letters he wrote from his cell were burned without ever being read. Blackwood fed each one into the fire himself, singeing his fingers.
Bill and Jim, well, they got close, but the stars weren't aligned yet. They weren't matched up properly, not quite the right fit.
Because Jim loved Bill, and Bill pretended he once loved Jim, even though one phone call had torn down that lie and told him still. You still love him, you will always love him.
Of course, neither of them would ever know the scope of that always.
And Bill went through with it, even with the lie in tatters around his feet, because he had been able to not look or think about it until he was faced with Jim. And Jim cried, though who exactly the tears were for was hard to tell, and went through with it because it was the only thing to do.
It was the only thing they knew how to do, though he did not know that.
Jim never went back to the caravan or the school, just to the hotel he hardly remembered booking, and hung himself.
Merlin and Galahad fell into each others lives rather unobtrusively, with little fanfare or notice, just simple hellos. And maybe they only managed it because the universe had turned its back while it went to fuck someone else, but they still managed it. Fate, or a lack of it, willing.
Galahad, this is our new Merlin.
And then they'd said hello, smiled at each other, and gone about their day.
It was years before they shed their clothes and shared their skin and traced their scars, slowly telling the stories of their lives.
It was around that time, or not much long after, when Merlin said I swear to God Harry, that's my name- you cannot possible be laughing at it, I swear to God, Harry- and Harry developed the habit of answering 'Who is that?' with a simple 'That's Merlin' and a tiny, private smile on the corner of his lips.
And when Merlin asks him about his private network, and aren't his systems good enough, and don't you trust me- they talk through it. Because Harry is worried and paranoid, but not about Merlin, never about Merlin (not this time, but he doesn't remember that). And Merlin listens and goes looking, and when they ask Harry if maybe Merlin- he shuts them down and stands by him because he knows.
And then they both know.
And when Arthur came crashing down, and Valentine came crashing down, and Harry stayed standing, maybe the universe looked back over its shoulder and finally remembered to take notice.
Because maybe fate considered rearranging the stars for them, but they mostly did it themselves. And maybe it burned their hands and blinded their eyes, but the universe could go fuck itself, because they finally had each other.
And even if they could only touch and see and smell and know each other, at least they had finally done it.