Obscurité
Author: railise
Title: Obscurité
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Arthur, knights
Summary: It's a dark and stormy night when a dark and ravaged coach rolls into Camelot…
Warnings: none
Word Count: 536
Prompt: coach
Author's Note: One shot, but I might develop it out if the muse strikes.
Flanked by the knights, swords drawn, Arthur stood waiting on the main stairs of Camelot as the coach approached. The black horses leading the conveyance into the courtyard were stunning, a perfectly matched pair moving in sync. But they were almost too perfect, and the contrast between their appearance and that of the coach- its curtains and banners shredded and rotting, the door hanging on by a single hinge, the wooden wheels holding their shape solely due to rusted smithing and the distant memory of being a cohesive unit- made the entire picture more unsettling. Being that every element of the coach was as black as the beasts that drew it, there was no identifying mark to indicate its owner. The storm clouds hanging low over the citadel robbed the evening hour of any remaining light which may have allowed a glimpse within the vehicle, the ancillary illumination from torches held by a handful of knights swallowed by the grey gloaming.
The horses pulled up in front of the stairs as if they had been trained to do so, and the group awaiting it tensed in anticipation of what they may be about to face. While it was difficult to be certain, Arthur thought he saw movement at the carriage door when a bright flash of lightning arced overhead, followed instantaneously by thunder so powerful it shook the stones beneath their feet. The skies opened in a torrent, extinguishing the torches and drenching the men to their skin, but no one moved. Even the horses stood completely still, the only indication they lived being the expansion and retraction of their ribs as they breathed and their eyes blinking against the rain.
Peering through the deluge, Arthur saw that he'd been correct; the door was slowly swinging open on its single hinge. "Show yourself!" he commanded, the words cueing his men to be ready.
Twin lightning bolts seared the sky, the resulting thunder reverberating through the bones of the knights. The coach was fully open now, but the interior remained cloaked in inky oblivion.
Arthur took a cautious step forward, then another, his men following suit behind him, every sword at the ready. They halted when a shadow moved within the darkness of the coach. If there was any rustling noise, it was lost to the storm.
The shadow approached and the men took a collective step backward- only to freeze when a figure toppled out, melting into a heap onto the ground.
After a shocked instant, Arthur sprang into motion, sheathing his sword as he hurried to the figure and turned it over, already fairly certain he'd recognized whom it was.
"Merlin!" Leon exclaimed.
"He's alive," Arthur announced, having confirmed Merlin’s pulse after a moment of terror that he wouldn't find one. "Just."
He'd sensed that there was no one else in the carriage, and a quick glance up confirmed his suspicion. "Quick, get him to Gaius."
As Merlin was carried into the castle and the horses were led to the stables, Arthur frowned and turned to go back inside.
It had been two days since Merlin had shown up for work, but Gaius had said he was in the tavern.
What the hell had happened…?
Title: Obscurité
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Arthur, knights
Summary: It's a dark and stormy night when a dark and ravaged coach rolls into Camelot…
Warnings: none
Word Count: 536
Prompt: coach
Author's Note: One shot, but I might develop it out if the muse strikes.
Flanked by the knights, swords drawn, Arthur stood waiting on the main stairs of Camelot as the coach approached. The black horses leading the conveyance into the courtyard were stunning, a perfectly matched pair moving in sync. But they were almost too perfect, and the contrast between their appearance and that of the coach- its curtains and banners shredded and rotting, the door hanging on by a single hinge, the wooden wheels holding their shape solely due to rusted smithing and the distant memory of being a cohesive unit- made the entire picture more unsettling. Being that every element of the coach was as black as the beasts that drew it, there was no identifying mark to indicate its owner. The storm clouds hanging low over the citadel robbed the evening hour of any remaining light which may have allowed a glimpse within the vehicle, the ancillary illumination from torches held by a handful of knights swallowed by the grey gloaming.
The horses pulled up in front of the stairs as if they had been trained to do so, and the group awaiting it tensed in anticipation of what they may be about to face. While it was difficult to be certain, Arthur thought he saw movement at the carriage door when a bright flash of lightning arced overhead, followed instantaneously by thunder so powerful it shook the stones beneath their feet. The skies opened in a torrent, extinguishing the torches and drenching the men to their skin, but no one moved. Even the horses stood completely still, the only indication they lived being the expansion and retraction of their ribs as they breathed and their eyes blinking against the rain.
Peering through the deluge, Arthur saw that he'd been correct; the door was slowly swinging open on its single hinge. "Show yourself!" he commanded, the words cueing his men to be ready.
Twin lightning bolts seared the sky, the resulting thunder reverberating through the bones of the knights. The coach was fully open now, but the interior remained cloaked in inky oblivion.
Arthur took a cautious step forward, then another, his men following suit behind him, every sword at the ready. They halted when a shadow moved within the darkness of the coach. If there was any rustling noise, it was lost to the storm.
The shadow approached and the men took a collective step backward- only to freeze when a figure toppled out, melting into a heap onto the ground.
After a shocked instant, Arthur sprang into motion, sheathing his sword as he hurried to the figure and turned it over, already fairly certain he'd recognized whom it was.
"Merlin!" Leon exclaimed.
"He's alive," Arthur announced, having confirmed Merlin’s pulse after a moment of terror that he wouldn't find one. "Just."
He'd sensed that there was no one else in the carriage, and a quick glance up confirmed his suspicion. "Quick, get him to Gaius."
As Merlin was carried into the castle and the horses were led to the stables, Arthur frowned and turned to go back inside.
It had been two days since Merlin had shown up for work, but Gaius had said he was in the tavern.
What the hell had happened…?