Let the Games Begin
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Let the games begin
Rating: G
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Kilgharrah, Merlin
Summary: Kilgharrah merely had to mouth something about destiny and great things and the little fool fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
Word Count: 430
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 489, makeover
Author's Notes: unbetaed, dialogue from “The Dragon’s Call” by Julian Jones.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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“How small you are for such a great destiny,” Kilgharrah growled, settling down against the cold stone of his cage.
The boy blinked up at him, looking as confused as any human. And yet, Kilgharrah could sense how powerful Merlin was, with magic enough to overthrow Pendragon’s kingdom had he so wished. Untapped potential, of magic so intrinsic, so natural that Merlin had merely to think it and it would be made so.
As Kilgharrah sat there, he could feel the tides turning at last, and the potential of magic filling once again the void left by Uther’s killing rage. When Kilgharrah was done, there would be nothing left of Camelot but a shattered wreck, and Uther’s burnt body smoking in the wind. It would be glorious.
But first he needed to be free to exact his revenge, and for that, he needed Merlin.
He couldn’t just ask, though. Merlin seemed suspicious, wary of tricks. A peasant’s sensibilities.
So instead, Kilgharrah drew him in with lies and possibilities, preying on Merlin’s naïve outlook. It was clear that Merlin longed for recognition, wanting to be known and loved for his gifts. That somehow a village boy could be more than a mere body against a backdrop of wealth and prestige, that someone with his power could stand beside the most noble of kings and be acclaimed.
Talking of destiny and the kingdom rising with Merlin’s help, Kilgharrah painted a picture made glorious with Merlin as centrepoint in all of it. The crowds would sing his praises, and justice served, not just for the nobles but for all.
But Kilgharrah couldn’t give Merlin too much information. Even the idiot might piece together the lies hidden in all of Kilgharrah’s speeches. Instead, he hinted about the future, to nudge the boy into thinking he was doing the right thing for the greater good, for the people of all Albion, an honourable and just king attaining greatness with Merlin’s help. Merlin lapped it up.
“Your gift, Merlin, was given to you for a reason,” Kilgharrah said, trying not to crow at Merlin’s eagerness. “Arthur will unite the land of Albion but without you, he will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.”
Merlin shook his head, but he didn’t leave, either. Instead, he kept asking questions, kept showing Kilgharrah just how much he wanted to be recognised. Kept falling for the promises of glory.
Kilgharrah pulled him in. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
And when it was all done, Merlin would be made over into Kilgharrah’s puppet.
Let the games begin.
Title: Let the games begin
Rating: G
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Kilgharrah, Merlin
Summary: Kilgharrah merely had to mouth something about destiny and great things and the little fool fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
Word Count: 430
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 489, makeover
Author's Notes: unbetaed, dialogue from “The Dragon’s Call” by Julian Jones.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
--------------------
“How small you are for such a great destiny,” Kilgharrah growled, settling down against the cold stone of his cage.
The boy blinked up at him, looking as confused as any human. And yet, Kilgharrah could sense how powerful Merlin was, with magic enough to overthrow Pendragon’s kingdom had he so wished. Untapped potential, of magic so intrinsic, so natural that Merlin had merely to think it and it would be made so.
As Kilgharrah sat there, he could feel the tides turning at last, and the potential of magic filling once again the void left by Uther’s killing rage. When Kilgharrah was done, there would be nothing left of Camelot but a shattered wreck, and Uther’s burnt body smoking in the wind. It would be glorious.
But first he needed to be free to exact his revenge, and for that, he needed Merlin.
He couldn’t just ask, though. Merlin seemed suspicious, wary of tricks. A peasant’s sensibilities.
So instead, Kilgharrah drew him in with lies and possibilities, preying on Merlin’s naïve outlook. It was clear that Merlin longed for recognition, wanting to be known and loved for his gifts. That somehow a village boy could be more than a mere body against a backdrop of wealth and prestige, that someone with his power could stand beside the most noble of kings and be acclaimed.
Talking of destiny and the kingdom rising with Merlin’s help, Kilgharrah painted a picture made glorious with Merlin as centrepoint in all of it. The crowds would sing his praises, and justice served, not just for the nobles but for all.
But Kilgharrah couldn’t give Merlin too much information. Even the idiot might piece together the lies hidden in all of Kilgharrah’s speeches. Instead, he hinted about the future, to nudge the boy into thinking he was doing the right thing for the greater good, for the people of all Albion, an honourable and just king attaining greatness with Merlin’s help. Merlin lapped it up.
“Your gift, Merlin, was given to you for a reason,” Kilgharrah said, trying not to crow at Merlin’s eagerness. “Arthur will unite the land of Albion but without you, he will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.”
Merlin shook his head, but he didn’t leave, either. Instead, he kept asking questions, kept showing Kilgharrah just how much he wanted to be recognised. Kept falling for the promises of glory.
Kilgharrah pulled him in. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
And when it was all done, Merlin would be made over into Kilgharrah’s puppet.
Let the games begin.