Title: One Prison is much like another - part 31B
Author: 
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 31B
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 951
Camelot Drabble Prompt #606: Born this way
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all. The second part of 31 since I had planned on writing more last week but was too sick to finish the scene.
---------------
It became increasingly difficult to get away and tend to his dragons. Arthur seemed to be following him around, the arse, almost as if he had nothing better to do than harass his poor manservant. And the knights were hovering, too, interrupting his rush to finish chores and asking all kinds of help with ridiculous nonsense. Even cool-headed Leon seemed to come up with excuses for crossing Merlin’s path whereas beforehand he’d rarely seen him unless it was training or council meetings or hunting him down for Arthur. It was almost as if Arthur had put a posse on his trail.
Not that Arthur wouldn’t do that. He did seem rather put out, not knowing where Merlin was every second of the day. Merlin wasn’t sure if it was because he really cared about Merlin’s well-being, although he doubted it. More like, Arthur just didn’t like to be kept in the dark about things, even as something as trivial as Merlin’s whereabouts.
Because of people watching his every move, he stopped using the dungeon entrance for accessing the caves. Instead, he had to go the annoying way around which added a good long delay in getting back to the dragonets. Even Kilgharrah was complaining about it.
What he wouldn’t give for a day off. He even considered claiming he was ill but then he knew Arthur would be at his door, demanding to know what was wrong and insisting Gaius fix Merlin so that he could go back to work.
Finally, finally, he got a break.
Uther was raving about something or other, probably magic-users or a fleet of dragons come to destroy Camelot, and Arthur stomped in again-he did that a lot lately- and announced that he’d be gone overnight to Willowdale. Luckily, Gaius knew Merlin needed more time with the babies although they were getting big enough to be called toddlers or maybe mayhem-miscreants, and told Arthur that he’d have to do without Merlin’s services this time.
Arthur was not pleased but he didn’t really argue with Gaius, just glowered at Merlin and left a long list of chores to be completely when he returned.
The next day was rush this and rush that, but Arthur wasn’t due back until late. So Merlin, throwing caution to the wind, took the dungeon stairs this time rather than the longer, scrambling route.
Chara was first off the mark, landing on Merlin’s shoulder with a delicate plop, then curling his tail around Merlin’s neck, began to tell him about their day. At least that’s what Merlin hoped Chara was saying. The dragonets still couldn’t speak yet although a few words were coming through. They knew ‘Merlin’ and ‘eat’ and ‘papa’-Kilgharrah had thought it hilarious that they called Merlin that and Merlin suspected that it might have been that damn lizard’s fault after all. Bremen was chasing green Lailaps around, their fluttering creating a windstorm of dust and leaves and some of the hay they used for bedding. Red-tailed Lamporos was chittering away, looking toward the eel pond as if ready for supper.
Laughing at all the antics, Merlin missed the sudden way Augo perked up, his blue tail whipping around and wings beating hard as he took off toward the stairs.
But when Merlin turned around, his heart dropped into the abyss.
Arthur was there, his eyes hard as stone, his sword steady in his hand. “What magic is this?” But when Merlin just stood there, thinking furiously of what to say that wouldn’t make things worse, Arthur murmured, “Are you their prisoner?” Arthur pointed to Chara who was still perched on his shoulder, his tail tightening around Merlin’s neck. “Does that one have you in its thrall?”
Merlin wanted to cry. But instead, whispering low in dragon-tongue, he told them to hide. He didn’t want Arthur to hurt them. That would be an awful thing and disastrous for them all.
With a collective squeak, the little ones flew away, high up along the cliff, and settled into a ledge, their golden eyes the only things visible in the flickering torchlight.
Arthur watched them, his face intent as if ready to hunt them down at any second, but when they didn’t attack, just sat there staring at him, he turned back to Merlin.
“Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” Arthur seemed furious and worried and a dozen other things all at once, but when he looked over at Merlin, as if searching for something that didn’t make sense, he growled, “What the hell, Merlin?”
“They’re just babies, Arthur,” Merlin blurted out, then wanted to rip out his own tongue for betraying him.
But Arthur didn’t seem to hear the underlying truth. Instead, he snarled, waving his sword upward toward the ledge. “They are monsters.”
“Do they look like monsters to you?” Merlin nodded upward, spotting the little heads peering down at them, their eyes blinking gold like fireflies in the dark. It would be adorable if things weren’t so dire. “How can you think them anything but young ones, just learning to walk, to fly, to trust? Babies, Arthur. Just look at them. Are they monsters? Please Arthur, don’t condemn them for being born this way. They’re babies.”
“You were always a fool, rescuing all sorts, puppies and runty piglets, hawks with broken wings, a dire wolf with a torn paw. But this,” Arthur said, shaking his head, “this is too much. They are a plague on Camelot, born to kill. It is better to strike them down now than wait until they are full-grown.”
Merlin stood there, his mouth agape, wondering what else he could do to keep Arthur from making the biggest mistake of his life.
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 31B
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 951
Camelot Drabble Prompt #606: Born this way
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all. The second part of 31 since I had planned on writing more last week but was too sick to finish the scene.
---------------
It became increasingly difficult to get away and tend to his dragons. Arthur seemed to be following him around, the arse, almost as if he had nothing better to do than harass his poor manservant. And the knights were hovering, too, interrupting his rush to finish chores and asking all kinds of help with ridiculous nonsense. Even cool-headed Leon seemed to come up with excuses for crossing Merlin’s path whereas beforehand he’d rarely seen him unless it was training or council meetings or hunting him down for Arthur. It was almost as if Arthur had put a posse on his trail.
Not that Arthur wouldn’t do that. He did seem rather put out, not knowing where Merlin was every second of the day. Merlin wasn’t sure if it was because he really cared about Merlin’s well-being, although he doubted it. More like, Arthur just didn’t like to be kept in the dark about things, even as something as trivial as Merlin’s whereabouts.
Because of people watching his every move, he stopped using the dungeon entrance for accessing the caves. Instead, he had to go the annoying way around which added a good long delay in getting back to the dragonets. Even Kilgharrah was complaining about it.
What he wouldn’t give for a day off. He even considered claiming he was ill but then he knew Arthur would be at his door, demanding to know what was wrong and insisting Gaius fix Merlin so that he could go back to work.
Finally, finally, he got a break.
Uther was raving about something or other, probably magic-users or a fleet of dragons come to destroy Camelot, and Arthur stomped in again-he did that a lot lately- and announced that he’d be gone overnight to Willowdale. Luckily, Gaius knew Merlin needed more time with the babies although they were getting big enough to be called toddlers or maybe mayhem-miscreants, and told Arthur that he’d have to do without Merlin’s services this time.
Arthur was not pleased but he didn’t really argue with Gaius, just glowered at Merlin and left a long list of chores to be completely when he returned.
The next day was rush this and rush that, but Arthur wasn’t due back until late. So Merlin, throwing caution to the wind, took the dungeon stairs this time rather than the longer, scrambling route.
Chara was first off the mark, landing on Merlin’s shoulder with a delicate plop, then curling his tail around Merlin’s neck, began to tell him about their day. At least that’s what Merlin hoped Chara was saying. The dragonets still couldn’t speak yet although a few words were coming through. They knew ‘Merlin’ and ‘eat’ and ‘papa’-Kilgharrah had thought it hilarious that they called Merlin that and Merlin suspected that it might have been that damn lizard’s fault after all. Bremen was chasing green Lailaps around, their fluttering creating a windstorm of dust and leaves and some of the hay they used for bedding. Red-tailed Lamporos was chittering away, looking toward the eel pond as if ready for supper.
Laughing at all the antics, Merlin missed the sudden way Augo perked up, his blue tail whipping around and wings beating hard as he took off toward the stairs.
But when Merlin turned around, his heart dropped into the abyss.
Arthur was there, his eyes hard as stone, his sword steady in his hand. “What magic is this?” But when Merlin just stood there, thinking furiously of what to say that wouldn’t make things worse, Arthur murmured, “Are you their prisoner?” Arthur pointed to Chara who was still perched on his shoulder, his tail tightening around Merlin’s neck. “Does that one have you in its thrall?”
Merlin wanted to cry. But instead, whispering low in dragon-tongue, he told them to hide. He didn’t want Arthur to hurt them. That would be an awful thing and disastrous for them all.
With a collective squeak, the little ones flew away, high up along the cliff, and settled into a ledge, their golden eyes the only things visible in the flickering torchlight.
Arthur watched them, his face intent as if ready to hunt them down at any second, but when they didn’t attack, just sat there staring at him, he turned back to Merlin.
“Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” Arthur seemed furious and worried and a dozen other things all at once, but when he looked over at Merlin, as if searching for something that didn’t make sense, he growled, “What the hell, Merlin?”
“They’re just babies, Arthur,” Merlin blurted out, then wanted to rip out his own tongue for betraying him.
But Arthur didn’t seem to hear the underlying truth. Instead, he snarled, waving his sword upward toward the ledge. “They are monsters.”
“Do they look like monsters to you?” Merlin nodded upward, spotting the little heads peering down at them, their eyes blinking gold like fireflies in the dark. It would be adorable if things weren’t so dire. “How can you think them anything but young ones, just learning to walk, to fly, to trust? Babies, Arthur. Just look at them. Are they monsters? Please Arthur, don’t condemn them for being born this way. They’re babies.”
“You were always a fool, rescuing all sorts, puppies and runty piglets, hawks with broken wings, a dire wolf with a torn paw. But this,” Arthur said, shaking his head, “this is too much. They are a plague on Camelot, born to kill. It is better to strike them down now than wait until they are full-grown.”
Merlin stood there, his mouth agape, wondering what else he could do to keep Arthur from making the biggest mistake of his life.