Worship
Author: weepingwillow9
Title: Worship
Rating: G
Pairing/s: pre Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Leon
Summary: Arthur has always heard tales of Emrys
Warnings: None
Word Count: 576
Prompt: Devotion
Author's Notes: This is a world where Arthur is kidnapped by the druids as a baby and brought up to one day reclaim the kingdom for them. There may be more of this, I really like it.
For as long as Arthur can remember, they’ve told him stories about Emrys. The sorcerer, the one who could save them all from the oppression, from the running and the hiding in the depths of the forests. The endless lookouts, the screaming and the abandoning the camps, the walking for days and days after.
He’s known for a while that his parents aren’t actually his parents, too. A blonde haired, blue eyed boy stands out in a family of dark haired, brown eyed people. The lack of magic gives it away, too. Of course there are those without it, but they have parents equally without power, or weak. Arthur’s parents are a little above average.
He doesn’t mind the lack of power. For a while he did, around age thirteen, when everyone else would make the leaves dance or at least use magic to help them with their chores. But he has other skills.
Leon’s a few years older than him, and he hasn’t always been a Druid. But they welcomed him with open arms when his village was attacked, leaving him the only one alive. The King had suspected the villagers of harbouring a sorceress. Leon was lucky to escape with his life.
But he had been taught to use a sword, and he’s taught Arthur, each improving their skills fighting against each other, using swords stolen from fallen knights.
Arthur’s parents are proud of him, and they tell him as much when he looks for the assurance. But he can’t stop the thoughts that they aren’t his real parents. And, as he nears his coming of age, he can’t stop combing through his childhood for a hint of who he really is.
“Do you believe in Emrys?” he asks Leon one day, filled with images from the past, evenings spent huddled around campfires being told the prophecies again and again.
Leon smiles, a little cynical.
“If he was going to come, he’d have turned up by now.”
Arthur nods, slowly, lost in thought. He supposes Leon’s right. It’s just a tale told to children to make them stop worrying, to reassure them that the world will get better. And it won’t. But it’s a thought that disappoints Arthur more than he’d expect.
But now Emrys is right in front of him, big eared and strong cheekboned and messy haired. And blushing, just a little. He’s smiling at all the druids, open and honest and innocent. Arthur watches as their Elder walks up to him, head bowed.
“You are Emrys,” he says, with almost the air of a question.
“They tell me that,” he tells the Elder, and Arthur thinks he’s blushing a little more.
Their Elder drops to his knee and bows his head.
“Emrys,” he says, sounding like a veneration. And one by one, they all follow him.
Arthur looks up before he drops, and he could swear his eyes meet Emrys’.
It’s silent for a while, until Arthur feels a touch, light and gentle, on his shoulder.
“Arthur,” Emrys says, voice shaking just a little.
“Emrys,” Arthur says, eyes wide and worshipping.
He shakes his head, pulling Arthur up to standing.
“That’s not what I want, that’s not what I’m here for. Call me Merlin. Emrys feels too much like a title.”
Arthur blinks at the thought that Emrys would single him out, and allows himself to be led into the largest tent.
“There are things I need to tell you, Arthur.”
Title: Worship
Rating: G
Pairing/s: pre Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Leon
Summary: Arthur has always heard tales of Emrys
Warnings: None
Word Count: 576
Prompt: Devotion
Author's Notes: This is a world where Arthur is kidnapped by the druids as a baby and brought up to one day reclaim the kingdom for them. There may be more of this, I really like it.
For as long as Arthur can remember, they’ve told him stories about Emrys. The sorcerer, the one who could save them all from the oppression, from the running and the hiding in the depths of the forests. The endless lookouts, the screaming and the abandoning the camps, the walking for days and days after.
He’s known for a while that his parents aren’t actually his parents, too. A blonde haired, blue eyed boy stands out in a family of dark haired, brown eyed people. The lack of magic gives it away, too. Of course there are those without it, but they have parents equally without power, or weak. Arthur’s parents are a little above average.
He doesn’t mind the lack of power. For a while he did, around age thirteen, when everyone else would make the leaves dance or at least use magic to help them with their chores. But he has other skills.
Leon’s a few years older than him, and he hasn’t always been a Druid. But they welcomed him with open arms when his village was attacked, leaving him the only one alive. The King had suspected the villagers of harbouring a sorceress. Leon was lucky to escape with his life.
But he had been taught to use a sword, and he’s taught Arthur, each improving their skills fighting against each other, using swords stolen from fallen knights.
Arthur’s parents are proud of him, and they tell him as much when he looks for the assurance. But he can’t stop the thoughts that they aren’t his real parents. And, as he nears his coming of age, he can’t stop combing through his childhood for a hint of who he really is.
“Do you believe in Emrys?” he asks Leon one day, filled with images from the past, evenings spent huddled around campfires being told the prophecies again and again.
Leon smiles, a little cynical.
“If he was going to come, he’d have turned up by now.”
Arthur nods, slowly, lost in thought. He supposes Leon’s right. It’s just a tale told to children to make them stop worrying, to reassure them that the world will get better. And it won’t. But it’s a thought that disappoints Arthur more than he’d expect.
But now Emrys is right in front of him, big eared and strong cheekboned and messy haired. And blushing, just a little. He’s smiling at all the druids, open and honest and innocent. Arthur watches as their Elder walks up to him, head bowed.
“You are Emrys,” he says, with almost the air of a question.
“They tell me that,” he tells the Elder, and Arthur thinks he’s blushing a little more.
Their Elder drops to his knee and bows his head.
“Emrys,” he says, sounding like a veneration. And one by one, they all follow him.
Arthur looks up before he drops, and he could swear his eyes meet Emrys’.
It’s silent for a while, until Arthur feels a touch, light and gentle, on his shoulder.
“Arthur,” Emrys says, voice shaking just a little.
“Emrys,” Arthur says, eyes wide and worshipping.
He shakes his head, pulling Arthur up to standing.
“That’s not what I want, that’s not what I’m here for. Call me Merlin. Emrys feels too much like a title.”
Arthur blinks at the thought that Emrys would single him out, and allows himself to be led into the largest tent.
“There are things I need to tell you, Arthur.”