One Prison is much like another - part 28
Author: 
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 28
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Kilgharrah, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1160
Camelot Drabble Prompt #603: negotiate
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all. - Note since I was traveling, I couldn't figure out how to post the whole thing so I've updated it once I got home.
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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By the time Arthur came back, Merlin was half-done with cleaning up. Obviously, he couldn’t use magic to do the trick. Arthur might not be the brightest candle in the kingdom, but he wasn’t unobservant, either.
The boots were cleaned, the laundry sent off, and Merlin was struggling with the cobwebs hanging across the shield high up on the wall-he was ready to say the hell with it and just use magic and hope for the best- when Arthur came in, stomping his feet and slamming the door behind him.
Grumbling under his breath, Arthur flung himself down on his favourite chair, pulled up the flagon of wine Merlin had prepared for him, just in case, and didn’t even bother to pour it into a goblet, just gulped the whole thing down like it was water.
And Arthur thought Merlin had a problem with drink.
Like an idiot poking at a bear, Merlin said, “Do you want me to bring the rest of the barrel up now that you’ve finished that off? Or we could go to the tavern but then you threatened to ban me from ever entering one again. Within a hundred-mile radius, you said.”
Arthur just glared at him, looking at him as if ready to run him through or maybe just throw the damn flagon at him. “What? That’s what you said.”
Giving a long sigh, Arthur lifted the empty container and wiggled it a little. Merlin scowled at him, then rolling his eyes and muttering about put-upon servants, he went over to the dusty corner-he hadn’t got around to cleaning there yet- and pulled out another bottle he’d hidden for when Arthur was being an arse-which was often.
Arthur didn’t even yell at him. Maybe he’d known about the stash. Anyway, Merlin poured some of the wine into a goblet, then started to hand it to Arthur before pulling it back and staring at him. “It’s a little early to get drunk even for you. So what’s Uther done this time?”
Grabbing the glass, Arthur took another gulp, then slammed it down, sloshing the wine all over the table. “My father blames me for another sorcerer escaping. Words like incompetent and blind and disappointment were used freely. In front of the council. Yelling that it was my fault at how the kingdom was falling apart.”
“Arthur, it’s not. It’s not your fault.” Merlin didn’t want to get between those two. After all, Uther still was king, if in name only. Trying to gentle his voice because mockery wasn’t going to help the situation, Merlin said, “He’s been getting worse. I know that you want what’s best for him, but the paranoia and the bouts of dementia aren’t helping him or you. He’s been calling the council together every day since you left. Gaius thought that maybe his mind had cleared but all he’s been doing is ranting about magic and how he needed to kill them all. And how you were to blame for it.”
“I do everything he asks and it’s never enough.” Arthur’s hands rubbed at his face as if to brush away the whole damn mess.
Looking down at the goblet, he took another large gulp, then avoiding Merlin’s gaze, he murmured, “The worst of it… I can’t believe I’m saying this but Father pulled me aside after the council members had left and started complaining about an eye watching him.”
Merlin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That sounded insane. “An eye?”
Arthur nodded. “A huge golden eye. As big as the window in his rooms.” He looked up at that, blinking rapidly at Merlin as if reluctant to say anything. “It comes every night and there’s humming. Wordless tunes, he said. Inside his head.”
There was only one huge golden eye that Merlin knew of in all of Camelot and it belonged to that malicious vindictive underhanded lizard. He was going to kill Kilgharrah for making things ten times worse.
With that, Merlin squatted down next to Arthur, knowing that he’d have to lie and trying not feel guilty about it. “Maybe he’s just having bad dreams. We all get them.”
“He wants me to find the eye and bring it back as a trophy.” Arthur shook his head. He looked sick, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying it. “Even if the eye were real, the monster would be huge. And yet he expects me to just up and slay the beast and bring back an eyeball. As if it were nothing.”
Much as he wanted to kill Kilgharrah for this and Merlin would definitely be having words later, Merlin couldn’t do much at the moment about it. Instead, patting Arthur’s arm and then filling his glass with wine again because the whole thing really called for getting rats-arsed -and Merlin was going to need it, too, he said brightly, “Well, if we sewed a lot of bladder bits together into a round shape and filled it with water or heavy wool and painted it all gold and made it look like an eyeball, do you think he’d fall for it?”
Arthur just sat there, blinking at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Are you a complete idiot? My father isn’t that far gone.”
In any other world, the whole thing would be hilarious and they’d both fall down laughing so hard that they’d pee a little in their breeches. But this was deadly serious.
“Isn’t he?” Merlin murmured, trying to soften the blow. “Arthur, I know you don’t want to, but maybe it’s time to become more than regent. Maybe it’s time to become king. For the sake of the kingdom.”
“I will not depose my father. It would kill him.” Arthur shook his head, then took another long gulp of the wine. “I’ll have to find… another way.”
“How about we forget all about eyeballs and council meetings? I can fill you in on the latest gossip that you’ve missed while you were away and you can not throw things at me,” Merlin said, then filled both goblets to the brim. If Merlin was going to chastise Kilgharrah and then have to clean up his mess, he certainly wasn’t going to do it sober.
“I can throw things. Umm… listen, too. I’m… umm… the prince after all,” Arthur said, his voice a little wobbly with all the wine he’d been drinking. He reached over and patted Merlin’s hair, giving him a dopey smile, then slumped down and rested his head on the wine-soaked table.
Before Merlin could say anything else, Arthur was snoring.
With a heavy sigh, he stood, then used his magic to call a blanket to him. Tucking it around a sleeping Arthur, he looked down at the arse for a minute, and shook his head, saying fondly, “The things you get into.”
And with that, he turned and stomped out the door.
Merlin had a dragon to yell at.
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 28
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Kilgharrah, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1160
Camelot Drabble Prompt #603: negotiate
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all. - Note since I was traveling, I couldn't figure out how to post the whole thing so I've updated it once I got home.
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.
----------------
By the time Arthur came back, Merlin was half-done with cleaning up. Obviously, he couldn’t use magic to do the trick. Arthur might not be the brightest candle in the kingdom, but he wasn’t unobservant, either.
The boots were cleaned, the laundry sent off, and Merlin was struggling with the cobwebs hanging across the shield high up on the wall-he was ready to say the hell with it and just use magic and hope for the best- when Arthur came in, stomping his feet and slamming the door behind him.
Grumbling under his breath, Arthur flung himself down on his favourite chair, pulled up the flagon of wine Merlin had prepared for him, just in case, and didn’t even bother to pour it into a goblet, just gulped the whole thing down like it was water.
And Arthur thought Merlin had a problem with drink.
Like an idiot poking at a bear, Merlin said, “Do you want me to bring the rest of the barrel up now that you’ve finished that off? Or we could go to the tavern but then you threatened to ban me from ever entering one again. Within a hundred-mile radius, you said.”
Arthur just glared at him, looking at him as if ready to run him through or maybe just throw the damn flagon at him. “What? That’s what you said.”
Giving a long sigh, Arthur lifted the empty container and wiggled it a little. Merlin scowled at him, then rolling his eyes and muttering about put-upon servants, he went over to the dusty corner-he hadn’t got around to cleaning there yet- and pulled out another bottle he’d hidden for when Arthur was being an arse-which was often.
Arthur didn’t even yell at him. Maybe he’d known about the stash. Anyway, Merlin poured some of the wine into a goblet, then started to hand it to Arthur before pulling it back and staring at him. “It’s a little early to get drunk even for you. So what’s Uther done this time?”
Grabbing the glass, Arthur took another gulp, then slammed it down, sloshing the wine all over the table. “My father blames me for another sorcerer escaping. Words like incompetent and blind and disappointment were used freely. In front of the council. Yelling that it was my fault at how the kingdom was falling apart.”
“Arthur, it’s not. It’s not your fault.” Merlin didn’t want to get between those two. After all, Uther still was king, if in name only. Trying to gentle his voice because mockery wasn’t going to help the situation, Merlin said, “He’s been getting worse. I know that you want what’s best for him, but the paranoia and the bouts of dementia aren’t helping him or you. He’s been calling the council together every day since you left. Gaius thought that maybe his mind had cleared but all he’s been doing is ranting about magic and how he needed to kill them all. And how you were to blame for it.”
“I do everything he asks and it’s never enough.” Arthur’s hands rubbed at his face as if to brush away the whole damn mess.
Looking down at the goblet, he took another large gulp, then avoiding Merlin’s gaze, he murmured, “The worst of it… I can’t believe I’m saying this but Father pulled me aside after the council members had left and started complaining about an eye watching him.”
Merlin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That sounded insane. “An eye?”
Arthur nodded. “A huge golden eye. As big as the window in his rooms.” He looked up at that, blinking rapidly at Merlin as if reluctant to say anything. “It comes every night and there’s humming. Wordless tunes, he said. Inside his head.”
There was only one huge golden eye that Merlin knew of in all of Camelot and it belonged to that malicious vindictive underhanded lizard. He was going to kill Kilgharrah for making things ten times worse.
With that, Merlin squatted down next to Arthur, knowing that he’d have to lie and trying not feel guilty about it. “Maybe he’s just having bad dreams. We all get them.”
“He wants me to find the eye and bring it back as a trophy.” Arthur shook his head. He looked sick, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying it. “Even if the eye were real, the monster would be huge. And yet he expects me to just up and slay the beast and bring back an eyeball. As if it were nothing.”
Much as he wanted to kill Kilgharrah for this and Merlin would definitely be having words later, Merlin couldn’t do much at the moment about it. Instead, patting Arthur’s arm and then filling his glass with wine again because the whole thing really called for getting rats-arsed -and Merlin was going to need it, too, he said brightly, “Well, if we sewed a lot of bladder bits together into a round shape and filled it with water or heavy wool and painted it all gold and made it look like an eyeball, do you think he’d fall for it?”
Arthur just sat there, blinking at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Are you a complete idiot? My father isn’t that far gone.”
In any other world, the whole thing would be hilarious and they’d both fall down laughing so hard that they’d pee a little in their breeches. But this was deadly serious.
“Isn’t he?” Merlin murmured, trying to soften the blow. “Arthur, I know you don’t want to, but maybe it’s time to become more than regent. Maybe it’s time to become king. For the sake of the kingdom.”
“I will not depose my father. It would kill him.” Arthur shook his head, then took another long gulp of the wine. “I’ll have to find… another way.”
“How about we forget all about eyeballs and council meetings? I can fill you in on the latest gossip that you’ve missed while you were away and you can not throw things at me,” Merlin said, then filled both goblets to the brim. If Merlin was going to chastise Kilgharrah and then have to clean up his mess, he certainly wasn’t going to do it sober.
“I can throw things. Umm… listen, too. I’m… umm… the prince after all,” Arthur said, his voice a little wobbly with all the wine he’d been drinking. He reached over and patted Merlin’s hair, giving him a dopey smile, then slumped down and rested his head on the wine-soaked table.
Before Merlin could say anything else, Arthur was snoring.
With a heavy sigh, he stood, then used his magic to call a blanket to him. Tucking it around a sleeping Arthur, he looked down at the arse for a minute, and shook his head, saying fondly, “The things you get into.”
And with that, he turned and stomped out the door.
Merlin had a dragon to yell at.