as if the distant mirror spoke [Part 1 of 3]
Author: schweet_heart
Title: as if the distant mirror spoke
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Gaius
Summary: A magical mirror comes to Camelot. Chaos, predictably, comes with it. Or: five times Arthur looked to a magical mirror for help and one time he didn’t need to.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1115 words
Prompt: 584 (Mirror)
Author's Notes: This idea kind of got away from me a bit, so I decided to leave it there and continue it next week. Ratings/warnings may change in future parts. Hope you enjoy it!
1.
It was a gift, or so the Druids claimed. It was certainly pretty enough to be one, with a border of silver filigree curling daintily around the polished glass, the pattern of roses and tiny songbirds so fine that even Arthur, who was used to fine things, had never seen anything like it.
“For you, Your Majesty,” the Druid ambassador said, bowing low. “To celebrate the renewed accord between our peoples, and to help you on the path to your true destiny.”
“Thank you,” Arthur said gravely. Privately, he wondered if this was meant to be some kind of insult; did the Druids think he was so vain that he would fall in love with his own reflection, like a character out of Greek mythology? Or was it simply a convoluted metaphor for being true to himself?
He was saved from having to figure this out when the ambassador went on,
“There are three things that you must remember. Firstly, the mirror will show you what you most desire, but not always in the way that you expect. Secondly, the mirror will always tell the truth-but how you interpret that truth is up to you. And thirdly, though the mirror may show you the future, it is only your actions that will determine what comes to pass. Would you like to try it out?”
Arthur glanced at Gaius, ever wary of traps and tricks, but relaxed a little when the older man nodded his head. “By all means,” he said gamely. “Show me how it works.”
The Druid stepped aside with a flourish, gesturing for Arthur to take his place in front of the glass. “Simply gaze upon its surface, my lord,” he said. “And the truth of your innermost thoughts will be revealed.”
When Arthur hesitated, he smiled. “Don’t worry, sire. What you see will remain private to you alone; anyone else will see only their own desires.”
Nodding, Arthur stepped forward, watching as the surface of the mirror shimmered and an image began to form. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it seemed reasonable to suppose that it would be something momentous. A great victory, perhaps, or a festival, something to celebrate the peace and prosperity of his people. Instead, he saw merely himself and Merlin, seated atop their usual mounts as they rode through a field not far from Camelot. Merlin appeared to be saying something, though Arthur couldn’t make out the words, and the two of them were laughing as they spurred their horses into a race.
It could have been any of a hundred such afternoons they had spent together, both when Arthur was still a prince and, less often, now that he was king, and for all the ambassador's blandishments the meaning of the scene wasn’t particularly difficult to fathom. The negotiations had been dragging on for hours already, and Arthur was dying to change out of his stuffy court clothes and head out into the sunshine for a little exercise. He felt almost disappointed to find his own secrets so uninteresting. After such a build-up, he had been expecting to be surprised.
“Well?” The ambassador was waiting, his eyes on Arthur’s face. “Does it please you, Your Majesty?”
Arthur cleared his throat, and very carefully put all thoughts of escaping into the wilderness out of his head.
“Very much, my lord,” he lied diplomatically. “It is, truly, a most magnificent gift.”
+
2.
The next morning, Arthur was woken by the clatter of breaking crockery, a sound which was familiar enough to cause him only mild alarm.
“And good morning to you, too, Merlin,” he said pleasantly, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat up. He had been having such a lovely dream. “Is there any reason why you’ve decided to decorate the floor with my breakfast this morning instead of letting me eat it?”
Merlin was staring at the mirror, which sat in pride of place across from Arthur’s bed, and the look on his face was a peculiar combination of both longing and terror. Arthur wondered what it was he saw-a day off, perhaps? A life of luxury? It was pointless to ask, of course; Merlin likely wouldn’t tell him. But that didn’t stop him from wishing, all the same.
“Where did that thing come from?” Merlin asked, having finally started moving again. He gave the mirror a wide berth, as though fearing it might attack him when his back was turned. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“Well, you would have, if you’d been at the castle yesterday,” Arthur said pointedly, "instead of gallivanting off around the countryside without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“I did tell you I was going,” Merlin said, looking at him at last. His mouth quirked up slightly, eyes crinkling into that peculiarly Merlin smile which made Arthur want to do all manner of foolish things just to see it again. “Gaius needed some willowbark urgently for one of his patients, so he sent me to out gather some.”
“Mhm, yes,” Arthur agreed, yawning. “Strange. I seem to recall Gaius suddenly running out of-what was it, comfrey?-the last time Camelot played host to an official delegation.”
The quirk broadened to become a grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin said. “I would never dream of using my duties for Gaius to get out of such a vital and not at all boring afternoon with you. And-just out of interest, sire, how long did the Druids’ speeches go on for yesterday?”
Arthur groaned out loud, flopping back onto the bed and covering his head with his pillow. It did little to stifle Merlin’s delighted laughter, which was entirely the point.
“Next time, I’ll go and fetch the herbs for Gaius,” he said, the words muffled beneath silk and feathers. “And you can stay here and talk to the Druids. That would be a much better use of everyone’s time.”
“Don’t be silly, Arthur,” Merlin said. “You don't know anything about plants, and I don't know anything about magic. We’d only end up making a mess of things.”
“I suppose,” Arthur said grudgingly, but there was something off about Merlin’s voice that made him push the pillow aside and sit up, blinking as his eyes refocused. Merlin was looking at the mirror again, quick and furtive while he cleaned up the last of Arthur's breakfast, and Arthur couldn’t help but follow his gaze, caught by an irrational hope that he might somehow glimpse the source of Merlin's unease.
As it had been the first time, however, the scene that greeted him wasn’t particularly enlightening. He often felt like throwing things when Merlin was around.
Title: as if the distant mirror spoke
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Gaius
Summary: A magical mirror comes to Camelot. Chaos, predictably, comes with it. Or: five times Arthur looked to a magical mirror for help and one time he didn’t need to.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1115 words
Prompt: 584 (Mirror)
Author's Notes: This idea kind of got away from me a bit, so I decided to leave it there and continue it next week. Ratings/warnings may change in future parts. Hope you enjoy it!
1.
It was a gift, or so the Druids claimed. It was certainly pretty enough to be one, with a border of silver filigree curling daintily around the polished glass, the pattern of roses and tiny songbirds so fine that even Arthur, who was used to fine things, had never seen anything like it.
“For you, Your Majesty,” the Druid ambassador said, bowing low. “To celebrate the renewed accord between our peoples, and to help you on the path to your true destiny.”
“Thank you,” Arthur said gravely. Privately, he wondered if this was meant to be some kind of insult; did the Druids think he was so vain that he would fall in love with his own reflection, like a character out of Greek mythology? Or was it simply a convoluted metaphor for being true to himself?
He was saved from having to figure this out when the ambassador went on,
“There are three things that you must remember. Firstly, the mirror will show you what you most desire, but not always in the way that you expect. Secondly, the mirror will always tell the truth-but how you interpret that truth is up to you. And thirdly, though the mirror may show you the future, it is only your actions that will determine what comes to pass. Would you like to try it out?”
Arthur glanced at Gaius, ever wary of traps and tricks, but relaxed a little when the older man nodded his head. “By all means,” he said gamely. “Show me how it works.”
The Druid stepped aside with a flourish, gesturing for Arthur to take his place in front of the glass. “Simply gaze upon its surface, my lord,” he said. “And the truth of your innermost thoughts will be revealed.”
When Arthur hesitated, he smiled. “Don’t worry, sire. What you see will remain private to you alone; anyone else will see only their own desires.”
Nodding, Arthur stepped forward, watching as the surface of the mirror shimmered and an image began to form. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it seemed reasonable to suppose that it would be something momentous. A great victory, perhaps, or a festival, something to celebrate the peace and prosperity of his people. Instead, he saw merely himself and Merlin, seated atop their usual mounts as they rode through a field not far from Camelot. Merlin appeared to be saying something, though Arthur couldn’t make out the words, and the two of them were laughing as they spurred their horses into a race.
It could have been any of a hundred such afternoons they had spent together, both when Arthur was still a prince and, less often, now that he was king, and for all the ambassador's blandishments the meaning of the scene wasn’t particularly difficult to fathom. The negotiations had been dragging on for hours already, and Arthur was dying to change out of his stuffy court clothes and head out into the sunshine for a little exercise. He felt almost disappointed to find his own secrets so uninteresting. After such a build-up, he had been expecting to be surprised.
“Well?” The ambassador was waiting, his eyes on Arthur’s face. “Does it please you, Your Majesty?”
Arthur cleared his throat, and very carefully put all thoughts of escaping into the wilderness out of his head.
“Very much, my lord,” he lied diplomatically. “It is, truly, a most magnificent gift.”
+
2.
The next morning, Arthur was woken by the clatter of breaking crockery, a sound which was familiar enough to cause him only mild alarm.
“And good morning to you, too, Merlin,” he said pleasantly, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat up. He had been having such a lovely dream. “Is there any reason why you’ve decided to decorate the floor with my breakfast this morning instead of letting me eat it?”
Merlin was staring at the mirror, which sat in pride of place across from Arthur’s bed, and the look on his face was a peculiar combination of both longing and terror. Arthur wondered what it was he saw-a day off, perhaps? A life of luxury? It was pointless to ask, of course; Merlin likely wouldn’t tell him. But that didn’t stop him from wishing, all the same.
“Where did that thing come from?” Merlin asked, having finally started moving again. He gave the mirror a wide berth, as though fearing it might attack him when his back was turned. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“Well, you would have, if you’d been at the castle yesterday,” Arthur said pointedly, "instead of gallivanting off around the countryside without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“I did tell you I was going,” Merlin said, looking at him at last. His mouth quirked up slightly, eyes crinkling into that peculiarly Merlin smile which made Arthur want to do all manner of foolish things just to see it again. “Gaius needed some willowbark urgently for one of his patients, so he sent me to out gather some.”
“Mhm, yes,” Arthur agreed, yawning. “Strange. I seem to recall Gaius suddenly running out of-what was it, comfrey?-the last time Camelot played host to an official delegation.”
The quirk broadened to become a grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin said. “I would never dream of using my duties for Gaius to get out of such a vital and not at all boring afternoon with you. And-just out of interest, sire, how long did the Druids’ speeches go on for yesterday?”
Arthur groaned out loud, flopping back onto the bed and covering his head with his pillow. It did little to stifle Merlin’s delighted laughter, which was entirely the point.
“Next time, I’ll go and fetch the herbs for Gaius,” he said, the words muffled beneath silk and feathers. “And you can stay here and talk to the Druids. That would be a much better use of everyone’s time.”
“Don’t be silly, Arthur,” Merlin said. “You don't know anything about plants, and I don't know anything about magic. We’d only end up making a mess of things.”
“I suppose,” Arthur said grudgingly, but there was something off about Merlin’s voice that made him push the pillow aside and sit up, blinking as his eyes refocused. Merlin was looking at the mirror again, quick and furtive while he cleaned up the last of Arthur's breakfast, and Arthur couldn’t help but follow his gaze, caught by an irrational hope that he might somehow glimpse the source of Merlin's unease.
As it had been the first time, however, the scene that greeted him wasn’t particularly enlightening. He often felt like throwing things when Merlin was around.