Patron of the Arts - part 1
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Patron of the Arts part 1
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Uther
Summary: Arthur always loved to draw but when his father refused to allow it, Arthur left it all behind. Until he met Merlin.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 349
Camelot Drabble Prompt 515: Scrap
Camelot Drabble Prompt 516: Almost
Author’s notes: this story is due to multiple prompts but at least one of them has prompt 516:almost in it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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When Arthur was younger, his father insisted that his governess take Arthur to the museums, for a grounding in the arts. Uther made it very clear that it was not to learn about art or even-heaven forbid-become an artist himself, but so that when he was old enough, Arthur would be able talk to the others of their class, only the most important people, about the monetary value of art and donations and how to work tax write-offs.
Arthur didn’t mind. It was almost relaxing. At least, he was out of the house and as far away from his cold and overbearing father as he could get. Besides, he liked to draw. His governess said he was good at it, and he began to sketch. On scraps of paper, on smooth wood, the inside covers of his schoolbooks, anywhere he knew that Uther wouldn’t look.
Arthur wasn’t stupid. Knowing his father as he did, any hint that Arthur might be interested in more than just looking at art would have been the end of trips to museums and instead off to boarding school where men were men and artists the scum of the earth.
So he hid the drawings, of landscapes and animals, of sorcerers and knights of old, of castles and dragons, of a boy with hair the colour of midnight, under his bed, and dreamed of a better tomorrow.
But he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought and one day, he came home to a livid Uther, holding Arthur’s drawings in his hands. There was screaming and fury and paper burning in the fireplace, all of Arthur’s work torched into ash.
He went to boarding school after all, with discipline and beatings and bullies ready to make sure no one stepped out of line.
In time, he learned to be a bully himself, for protection, for self-denial, for wanting to draw more than anything in the world and knowing he would be mocked for it or worse. His father would never understand.
In time, he forgot even why he felt that way. Until he met Merlin.
Title: Patron of the Arts part 1
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Uther
Summary: Arthur always loved to draw but when his father refused to allow it, Arthur left it all behind. Until he met Merlin.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 349
Camelot Drabble Prompt 515: Scrap
Camelot Drabble Prompt 516: Almost
Author’s notes: this story is due to multiple prompts but at least one of them has prompt 516:almost in it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
---------------
When Arthur was younger, his father insisted that his governess take Arthur to the museums, for a grounding in the arts. Uther made it very clear that it was not to learn about art or even-heaven forbid-become an artist himself, but so that when he was old enough, Arthur would be able talk to the others of their class, only the most important people, about the monetary value of art and donations and how to work tax write-offs.
Arthur didn’t mind. It was almost relaxing. At least, he was out of the house and as far away from his cold and overbearing father as he could get. Besides, he liked to draw. His governess said he was good at it, and he began to sketch. On scraps of paper, on smooth wood, the inside covers of his schoolbooks, anywhere he knew that Uther wouldn’t look.
Arthur wasn’t stupid. Knowing his father as he did, any hint that Arthur might be interested in more than just looking at art would have been the end of trips to museums and instead off to boarding school where men were men and artists the scum of the earth.
So he hid the drawings, of landscapes and animals, of sorcerers and knights of old, of castles and dragons, of a boy with hair the colour of midnight, under his bed, and dreamed of a better tomorrow.
But he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought and one day, he came home to a livid Uther, holding Arthur’s drawings in his hands. There was screaming and fury and paper burning in the fireplace, all of Arthur’s work torched into ash.
He went to boarding school after all, with discipline and beatings and bullies ready to make sure no one stepped out of line.
In time, he learned to be a bully himself, for protection, for self-denial, for wanting to draw more than anything in the world and knowing he would be mocked for it or worse. His father would never understand.
In time, he forgot even why he felt that way. Until he met Merlin.