Flesh and Blood
Title: Flesh and Blood
Author: alexjanna91
Fandom: Merlin, BBC tv series
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Genre: One-shot
Word Count: 1,669
Warnings: Slight blood, pre-slash
Disclaimer: I don't own, the characters, but the plot is mine.
Summary: Uther tread one step too far over Arthur’s limits, and now that power and strength he had taken for granted will be turned against him.
Notes: This one-shot was somewhat inspired by episode 08 of season 2, "Sins of the Father", where Arthur totally kicks Uther's butt. This is a completely different story line from the episode though, with the exception of the butt kicking of course. So, I hope ya'll enjoy! Please review and give your feedback.
*
Arthur pounded through the halls with all the fury and anger of an ocean storm. Servants and guards jumped out of his way and the very stones of Camelot castle seemed to quake beneath his boots. He had never felt so enraged in all his life, and he didn’t stop to think about why that was.
He just concentrated on the blazing hot rush of blood in his ears and abject rage boiling in his chest.
Unsheathing his sword he stormed passed the centuries at the doors to his father’s council room, ignoring their attempts to stop him.
“Your highness, you can’t go in there!”
“Prince Arthur, the King ordered-!”
“We really must insist!”
Arthur ignored them all; guard, knight, and council advisor alike as he kicked the double doors in and let loose a roar of unadulterated wrath.
“What is the meaning of this!” King Uther yelled, jumping from his seat in the throne.
“How dare you!” Arthur shouted, not paying heed to the many onlookers and poised ears following in his wake. He swung his sword in a lethal arc as his boots pounded across the distance between his father and him.
Uther barely got his sword unsheathed and up to block the blow, the full force of his son’s temper pushing him back a step. “Arthur! Stop this at once!”
“You had no right!” Arthur shouted, pulling his arm back again and slashing a truly vicious swipe at the king. The clash of their steel made their cowering audience cringe.
“What are you talking about!” Uther barked, unable to do little more than block each of his son’s blows, being pushed back a step with every one. “Stop this insanity!”
“Merlin, father.” The prince hissed from between clinched teeth. “You had Merlin flogged.” A new well of anger rose up and he doubled his blows nearly bringing the king to his knees.
The reason for his son’s anger was clear now and Uther struggled to hold his ground. He’d had Arthur trained almost from birth for battle and fighting, but it wasn’t until that moment that he truly understood what he had created.
“Your manservant?” He panted, arms shaking under the pressure. “I had him taught a lesson.” He pushed forward on his sword succeeding in unlocking their blades with an ear splitting ring.
Fire seemed to burst through Arthur’s eyes, and Uther nearly took a step away from him in surprise.
“You had him beaten to within an inch of his life!” Arthur bellowed lunging with a fierce cry and throwing his father off balance, toppling him over into his throne and disengaging the king’s sword with a sharp flick of his wrist.
Uther sat gasping for breath, just managing to suck in the much needed air without scraping the tender flesh of his throat on the tip of Arthur’s unwavering blade. “That boy is incompetent and an embarrassment! I was simply doing what you obviously don’t have the stomach for.”
Arthur sneered. “You are more of an embarrassment than he has ever been, you merciless wretch.”
“Mercy is a sign of weakness. I had thought I would have taught you that lesson by now.” Uther stared into his son’s flaming blue eyes trying to impose his authority even with a sword held at his throat.
Leaning closer and lowering his voice, Arthur said, “I have learned many lessons, Sire. One of them is that Merlin, for all his incompetence and his bumbling, is twice the man you have ever been.”
“You would choose to ally yourself with a peasant, a servant, over your own flesh and blood?” Uther hissed suddenly incensed, righteous indignation sputtering from his lips like ineffectual sparks.
“He is more my flesh and blood than you are.” Arthur stated his piercing stare unrepentant in the face of his father’s ire.
He lifted a foot to the throne’s armrest and leaned close until he and Uther were almost nose to nose. “And if you ever, even think of laying a hand on him again, justified or not, I will rend you apart with my bare hands.” He growled low in his chest sounding feral and vicious.
Arthur waited until his father’s eyes had widened, realizing the violent truth of his son’s words before pushing off from his crouch over the throne sending the chair skidding a couple of inches back, sheathing his sword, and turning on his heel stalking out of the room leaving the king and half the castle shaking in his wake.
*
Arthur stood outside of Gais’ chambers for nearly ten minutes before he felt in enough control to enter without tearing the room apart in rage. The door creaked open like it had always done in his lifetime in the castle and he stalked in only to be met with silence.
Taking another fortifying breath, he walked across the room and took the few steps up to Merlin’s room rapping his knuckles lightly against the aged and scared wood of the door.
“Come in.”
Pushing the door inward as silently as possible, Arthur just stood in the entrance taking in the scene before him.
Gwen glanced up giving him a small smile as she bustled around the room folding bandages, stacking linen cloths, emptying and refreshing the warm water sitting in the bowl next to Merlin’s miniscule cot in the center of the room. Gais was bent over the bed, his back bowed over the weathered woodened stool he sat on, his sleeves rolled up and his hands moving efficiently and assuredly over the marred, bloodied skin on Merlin’s back.
Merlin himself, Arthur saw, was laid on his belly, bare back exposed to the waning afternoon light and barely conscious. Only the infrequent whimpers and moans of pain gave any indication that the boy had not already passed out long before now.
Giving a quick glance up from his work, Gais nodded to the prince. “Your highness.”
A rush of air seemed to puff out of him in a sigh. “How is he, Gais?” Arthur asked as he stepped into the room and around to the other side of the cot where Merlin’s head was facing.
“Not particularly well, Sire.” The physician sighed leaning back for a moment and meeting Arthur’s eyes. “A slight infection had begun, but I believe we have caught it in time.” He reached to the small table beside him and lifted a folded piece of linen, soaking it in warm water before turning back to the job of cleaning Merlin’s wounds. “Once I have cleaned his wounds, applied the ointment, and bandaged him he should be all right.”
Arthur nodded, gently sat on the edge of the cot and studied Merlin’s face, pale and bruised, blood smeared across his mouth from a slip lip, and his eye almost swollen shut. He sighed, an almost unbearable weight pressing down on his chest.
The sound of high heels and short footsteps broke over the stillness in the room and Arthur glanced up to see Morgana standing in the doorway looking dismayed.
“Arthur?” She asked breathlessly, the horror and outrage plane on her pale features.
He held her gaze not really knowing what to say, but conveying what she wanted to hear anyway. She stood there staring at him for a moment longer before her face hardened and her back straightened. Nodding sharply she turned on her high fashionable heels and strode angrily away.
Uther wasn’t going to escape her wrath unscathed.
Arthur watched her go until his attention was caught and relentlessly held by an agonized whimper escaping Merlin’s pinched mouth.
“Arthur?” The sound of his name had never made him ache with pain like that before. It was breathy and shattered like glass tread on with boots.
Bending closer Arthur lifted a hand and gently stroked away the sweaty, grimy hair from Merlin’s forehead. “Hey. How do you feel?”
Merlin blinked one glazed bloodshot blue eye at him and coughed the sound rattling in his chest like a coin in a jar. “Like I was stomped on by a horse.”
Despite himself Arthur chuckled and continued to stroke over Merlin’s forehead and hair, carding his fingers through his damp bangs. “I would imagine so.”
That one bloodshot eye closed and Merlin hummed in a momentary reprieve of pleasure turning his face toward Arthur’s hand as much as he was able; which, admittedly, was not much. He lifted the arm closest to the prince and clumsily tried to grasp at his other hand.
“Hey, hey.” Arthur scolded lightly, his voice soft and quiet almost afraid to raise it above a whisper. “Don’t move around so much. Let Gais to his job, alright?” He grabbed the dirty, callused hand with his free one, and stroked the back of his fingers over Merlin’s bruised cheekbone to sooth him when he gave a pained moan, his movements pulling at his back. “You can’t just move like that right now.”
The thin long fingers in his hand tightened around his own. “Stay.” Merlin pleaded, words already slurred with fatigue and pain. “Please, Arthur.”
Arthur felt as though those long fingers with their dirty nails, and work roughened skin had squeezed achingly tight around his heart. He leaned forward pressing his lips to the hair at Merlin’s temple and murmured. “I’m staying. I’m not leaving. I’m here.”
He continued to stroke, and sooth, and whisper, as Gais and Gwen went about their work all the while knowing that this was not to be the end of it. Uther was nothing if not stubborn, and Arthur knew his father well enough to recognize this as a challenge the king was not going to back down from.
He had defied the king’s authority in front of half the castle, humiliated him in front of his subjects, and threatened his life without a moment’s hesitation. All for the sake a single servant. This was not over, Arthur knew, but he was more than ready to see it through to the end.
*
End.
Author: alexjanna91
Fandom: Merlin, BBC tv series
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Genre: One-shot
Word Count: 1,669
Warnings: Slight blood, pre-slash
Disclaimer: I don't own, the characters, but the plot is mine.
Summary: Uther tread one step too far over Arthur’s limits, and now that power and strength he had taken for granted will be turned against him.
Notes: This one-shot was somewhat inspired by episode 08 of season 2, "Sins of the Father", where Arthur totally kicks Uther's butt. This is a completely different story line from the episode though, with the exception of the butt kicking of course. So, I hope ya'll enjoy! Please review and give your feedback.
*
Arthur pounded through the halls with all the fury and anger of an ocean storm. Servants and guards jumped out of his way and the very stones of Camelot castle seemed to quake beneath his boots. He had never felt so enraged in all his life, and he didn’t stop to think about why that was.
He just concentrated on the blazing hot rush of blood in his ears and abject rage boiling in his chest.
Unsheathing his sword he stormed passed the centuries at the doors to his father’s council room, ignoring their attempts to stop him.
“Your highness, you can’t go in there!”
“Prince Arthur, the King ordered-!”
“We really must insist!”
Arthur ignored them all; guard, knight, and council advisor alike as he kicked the double doors in and let loose a roar of unadulterated wrath.
“What is the meaning of this!” King Uther yelled, jumping from his seat in the throne.
“How dare you!” Arthur shouted, not paying heed to the many onlookers and poised ears following in his wake. He swung his sword in a lethal arc as his boots pounded across the distance between his father and him.
Uther barely got his sword unsheathed and up to block the blow, the full force of his son’s temper pushing him back a step. “Arthur! Stop this at once!”
“You had no right!” Arthur shouted, pulling his arm back again and slashing a truly vicious swipe at the king. The clash of their steel made their cowering audience cringe.
“What are you talking about!” Uther barked, unable to do little more than block each of his son’s blows, being pushed back a step with every one. “Stop this insanity!”
“Merlin, father.” The prince hissed from between clinched teeth. “You had Merlin flogged.” A new well of anger rose up and he doubled his blows nearly bringing the king to his knees.
The reason for his son’s anger was clear now and Uther struggled to hold his ground. He’d had Arthur trained almost from birth for battle and fighting, but it wasn’t until that moment that he truly understood what he had created.
“Your manservant?” He panted, arms shaking under the pressure. “I had him taught a lesson.” He pushed forward on his sword succeeding in unlocking their blades with an ear splitting ring.
Fire seemed to burst through Arthur’s eyes, and Uther nearly took a step away from him in surprise.
“You had him beaten to within an inch of his life!” Arthur bellowed lunging with a fierce cry and throwing his father off balance, toppling him over into his throne and disengaging the king’s sword with a sharp flick of his wrist.
Uther sat gasping for breath, just managing to suck in the much needed air without scraping the tender flesh of his throat on the tip of Arthur’s unwavering blade. “That boy is incompetent and an embarrassment! I was simply doing what you obviously don’t have the stomach for.”
Arthur sneered. “You are more of an embarrassment than he has ever been, you merciless wretch.”
“Mercy is a sign of weakness. I had thought I would have taught you that lesson by now.” Uther stared into his son’s flaming blue eyes trying to impose his authority even with a sword held at his throat.
Leaning closer and lowering his voice, Arthur said, “I have learned many lessons, Sire. One of them is that Merlin, for all his incompetence and his bumbling, is twice the man you have ever been.”
“You would choose to ally yourself with a peasant, a servant, over your own flesh and blood?” Uther hissed suddenly incensed, righteous indignation sputtering from his lips like ineffectual sparks.
“He is more my flesh and blood than you are.” Arthur stated his piercing stare unrepentant in the face of his father’s ire.
He lifted a foot to the throne’s armrest and leaned close until he and Uther were almost nose to nose. “And if you ever, even think of laying a hand on him again, justified or not, I will rend you apart with my bare hands.” He growled low in his chest sounding feral and vicious.
Arthur waited until his father’s eyes had widened, realizing the violent truth of his son’s words before pushing off from his crouch over the throne sending the chair skidding a couple of inches back, sheathing his sword, and turning on his heel stalking out of the room leaving the king and half the castle shaking in his wake.
*
Arthur stood outside of Gais’ chambers for nearly ten minutes before he felt in enough control to enter without tearing the room apart in rage. The door creaked open like it had always done in his lifetime in the castle and he stalked in only to be met with silence.
Taking another fortifying breath, he walked across the room and took the few steps up to Merlin’s room rapping his knuckles lightly against the aged and scared wood of the door.
“Come in.”
Pushing the door inward as silently as possible, Arthur just stood in the entrance taking in the scene before him.
Gwen glanced up giving him a small smile as she bustled around the room folding bandages, stacking linen cloths, emptying and refreshing the warm water sitting in the bowl next to Merlin’s miniscule cot in the center of the room. Gais was bent over the bed, his back bowed over the weathered woodened stool he sat on, his sleeves rolled up and his hands moving efficiently and assuredly over the marred, bloodied skin on Merlin’s back.
Merlin himself, Arthur saw, was laid on his belly, bare back exposed to the waning afternoon light and barely conscious. Only the infrequent whimpers and moans of pain gave any indication that the boy had not already passed out long before now.
Giving a quick glance up from his work, Gais nodded to the prince. “Your highness.”
A rush of air seemed to puff out of him in a sigh. “How is he, Gais?” Arthur asked as he stepped into the room and around to the other side of the cot where Merlin’s head was facing.
“Not particularly well, Sire.” The physician sighed leaning back for a moment and meeting Arthur’s eyes. “A slight infection had begun, but I believe we have caught it in time.” He reached to the small table beside him and lifted a folded piece of linen, soaking it in warm water before turning back to the job of cleaning Merlin’s wounds. “Once I have cleaned his wounds, applied the ointment, and bandaged him he should be all right.”
Arthur nodded, gently sat on the edge of the cot and studied Merlin’s face, pale and bruised, blood smeared across his mouth from a slip lip, and his eye almost swollen shut. He sighed, an almost unbearable weight pressing down on his chest.
The sound of high heels and short footsteps broke over the stillness in the room and Arthur glanced up to see Morgana standing in the doorway looking dismayed.
“Arthur?” She asked breathlessly, the horror and outrage plane on her pale features.
He held her gaze not really knowing what to say, but conveying what she wanted to hear anyway. She stood there staring at him for a moment longer before her face hardened and her back straightened. Nodding sharply she turned on her high fashionable heels and strode angrily away.
Uther wasn’t going to escape her wrath unscathed.
Arthur watched her go until his attention was caught and relentlessly held by an agonized whimper escaping Merlin’s pinched mouth.
“Arthur?” The sound of his name had never made him ache with pain like that before. It was breathy and shattered like glass tread on with boots.
Bending closer Arthur lifted a hand and gently stroked away the sweaty, grimy hair from Merlin’s forehead. “Hey. How do you feel?”
Merlin blinked one glazed bloodshot blue eye at him and coughed the sound rattling in his chest like a coin in a jar. “Like I was stomped on by a horse.”
Despite himself Arthur chuckled and continued to stroke over Merlin’s forehead and hair, carding his fingers through his damp bangs. “I would imagine so.”
That one bloodshot eye closed and Merlin hummed in a momentary reprieve of pleasure turning his face toward Arthur’s hand as much as he was able; which, admittedly, was not much. He lifted the arm closest to the prince and clumsily tried to grasp at his other hand.
“Hey, hey.” Arthur scolded lightly, his voice soft and quiet almost afraid to raise it above a whisper. “Don’t move around so much. Let Gais to his job, alright?” He grabbed the dirty, callused hand with his free one, and stroked the back of his fingers over Merlin’s bruised cheekbone to sooth him when he gave a pained moan, his movements pulling at his back. “You can’t just move like that right now.”
The thin long fingers in his hand tightened around his own. “Stay.” Merlin pleaded, words already slurred with fatigue and pain. “Please, Arthur.”
Arthur felt as though those long fingers with their dirty nails, and work roughened skin had squeezed achingly tight around his heart. He leaned forward pressing his lips to the hair at Merlin’s temple and murmured. “I’m staying. I’m not leaving. I’m here.”
He continued to stroke, and sooth, and whisper, as Gais and Gwen went about their work all the while knowing that this was not to be the end of it. Uther was nothing if not stubborn, and Arthur knew his father well enough to recognize this as a challenge the king was not going to back down from.
He had defied the king’s authority in front of half the castle, humiliated him in front of his subjects, and threatened his life without a moment’s hesitation. All for the sake a single servant. This was not over, Arthur knew, but he was more than ready to see it through to the end.
*
End.