One Prison is much like another - part 32
Author: 
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 32
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 896
Camelot Drabble Prompt #607: Epiphany
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
-----------
For a moment, Arthur just stood there, one hand on Merlin’s chest as if ready to throw him aside. Then as Arthur stepped back, he glanced up at the dragonets and nodded. He seemed to sag a little, too, more like a friend who might pity his wayward manservant than ready to throw Merlin into the dungeon for defiance.
Merlin’s heart leapt up, his mind turning bright with hope that things would turn out all right after all. Arthur was going to be reasonable about it for once, thank the gods. He even sent Arthur a smile as he breathed out a sigh of relief.
“You won’t regre-,” Merlin started to say, but quick as lightning, Arthur punched Merlin in the face.
Exploding agony, spreading outward, spikes of it going straight into Merlin’s head, he collapsed and lay there blinking up at Arthur. Without thought, Merlin cradled his nose, his hand slick in blood, and tried to breathe through the betrayal.
It seemed incomprehensible. In a thousand ways, Merlin couldn’t understand what was going on, even as he tried to wipe away the flow of blood. Instead of apologising, though, Arthur stared down at Merlin a moment, then he turned away, hurrying over to the cliff-face and looking for a way up to the ledge where the dragonets sat.
But things only got worse.
The dragonets, Bremon in the lead, shrieked at Arthur, then began to dive-bomb him, pecking at Arthur’s hair and arms. There was a flurry of wings and screams, golden eyes reddening with madness.
At first, Arthur seemed taken aback but he started slashing away with his sword across large swaths of air, likely hoping to hurt or kill them with swift strokes. But he was having a hard time, mainly because the young ones were small and fast and screeching at the top of their lungs.
It would have been bad enough just flying and getting in nips, but then Lailaps, his green tail flapping a little too close to the sword, was cut on one leg, ichor dripping onto the stone.
Lailaps wasn’t going to die, not if Merlin had anything to say about it, but the dragonets didn’t know that. Instead, they formed a sphere around Lailaps, helping him up to the ledge, then glaring at Arthur, sent a volley of fireballs in his direction.
The air grew searingly hot, Arthur staggering back, pounding on his chainmail and his gambeson underneath, the cloth charred and there were bits of heat still glowing in the mail links. His hair, too, was turning black in spots, suddenly burnt from a fire storm.
Merlin couldn’t stand it. It was all turning horribly wrong.
Staggering up, still holding onto his nose, Merlin called out, “Stop, Arthur, stop.”
“They need to be killed. I can do it to one, I can do it to all of them. Now get out of my way, you fool,” Arthur snarled. He ducked as another fireball, this time from Augo, sailed past.
It was too much, too much. Merlin turned away, looking up at his young charges, knowing that if he didn’t do something, one or all of them were going to die. And he couldn’t let that happen.
Reaching up, his hands waving toward the young ones, in dragon tongue, begging them to stop attacking Arthur, Merlin called out, “Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois, epe'essess hepethei!”
For a moment, there was near silence, no fireballs, nothing but Arthur’s ragged breathing, and the faint cheep of the dragonets astonishment.
Then knowing that Arthur would start again to attack them, Merlin pointed toward the far distant exit, willing them to escape. “Ithai! Ithai!"
As he turned back, standing in front of Arthur, Merlin could hear wings beating and the whispers of ‘papa’ and ‘sad’ and ‘Merlin’ as the dragonets flew away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chara helping Lailaps, his wound already healing, at least no longer dripping blood.
“What the hell was that? Are you helping them? Against everything I’ve commanded of you?” Arthur was livid, his face stone-hard as he stared at Merlin.
“I told you not to hurt them, you… you arse. I’m surprised you weren’t burnt to death, going after them like that.” Merlin wiped his hand across his face, the dried blood now flaking off a bit. The nose was still broken, though, and every time Merlin breathed, it sent a jolt of pain into his head. “You broke my nose.”
“I should have run you through for defying me like that,” Arthur yelled, waving his sword around like some kind of mad thing, then stabbed the dirt at his feet with it.
Merlin narrowed his eyes. No matter how much it hurt, Arthur wasn’t going to get away with it. “And that’s my reward for saving your life? Gods above, you are such a cabbagehead.”
“You let them go!” Arthur’s voice reverberated in the cave, the echo of it bouncing off the walls as his words grew softer and softer with the distance.
“Yes, and I’d do it again,” Merlin said, lifting his head in defiance.
“You are dismissed from my service. I cannot have a servant who will defy me when Camelot’s safety is at stake.” And with that, Arthur turned away, muttering to himself as he climbed the stairs.
Merlin stood there, stunned. He’d been sacked. Again.
archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 32
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 896
Camelot Drabble Prompt #607: Epiphany
Author’s notes: Arthur is regent in all but name. AU and all.
-----------
For a moment, Arthur just stood there, one hand on Merlin’s chest as if ready to throw him aside. Then as Arthur stepped back, he glanced up at the dragonets and nodded. He seemed to sag a little, too, more like a friend who might pity his wayward manservant than ready to throw Merlin into the dungeon for defiance.
Merlin’s heart leapt up, his mind turning bright with hope that things would turn out all right after all. Arthur was going to be reasonable about it for once, thank the gods. He even sent Arthur a smile as he breathed out a sigh of relief.
“You won’t regre-,” Merlin started to say, but quick as lightning, Arthur punched Merlin in the face.
Exploding agony, spreading outward, spikes of it going straight into Merlin’s head, he collapsed and lay there blinking up at Arthur. Without thought, Merlin cradled his nose, his hand slick in blood, and tried to breathe through the betrayal.
It seemed incomprehensible. In a thousand ways, Merlin couldn’t understand what was going on, even as he tried to wipe away the flow of blood. Instead of apologising, though, Arthur stared down at Merlin a moment, then he turned away, hurrying over to the cliff-face and looking for a way up to the ledge where the dragonets sat.
But things only got worse.
The dragonets, Bremon in the lead, shrieked at Arthur, then began to dive-bomb him, pecking at Arthur’s hair and arms. There was a flurry of wings and screams, golden eyes reddening with madness.
At first, Arthur seemed taken aback but he started slashing away with his sword across large swaths of air, likely hoping to hurt or kill them with swift strokes. But he was having a hard time, mainly because the young ones were small and fast and screeching at the top of their lungs.
It would have been bad enough just flying and getting in nips, but then Lailaps, his green tail flapping a little too close to the sword, was cut on one leg, ichor dripping onto the stone.
Lailaps wasn’t going to die, not if Merlin had anything to say about it, but the dragonets didn’t know that. Instead, they formed a sphere around Lailaps, helping him up to the ledge, then glaring at Arthur, sent a volley of fireballs in his direction.
The air grew searingly hot, Arthur staggering back, pounding on his chainmail and his gambeson underneath, the cloth charred and there were bits of heat still glowing in the mail links. His hair, too, was turning black in spots, suddenly burnt from a fire storm.
Merlin couldn’t stand it. It was all turning horribly wrong.
Staggering up, still holding onto his nose, Merlin called out, “Stop, Arthur, stop.”
“They need to be killed. I can do it to one, I can do it to all of them. Now get out of my way, you fool,” Arthur snarled. He ducked as another fireball, this time from Augo, sailed past.
It was too much, too much. Merlin turned away, looking up at his young charges, knowing that if he didn’t do something, one or all of them were going to die. And he couldn’t let that happen.
Reaching up, his hands waving toward the young ones, in dragon tongue, begging them to stop attacking Arthur, Merlin called out, “Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois, epe'essess hepethei!”
For a moment, there was near silence, no fireballs, nothing but Arthur’s ragged breathing, and the faint cheep of the dragonets astonishment.
Then knowing that Arthur would start again to attack them, Merlin pointed toward the far distant exit, willing them to escape. “Ithai! Ithai!"
As he turned back, standing in front of Arthur, Merlin could hear wings beating and the whispers of ‘papa’ and ‘sad’ and ‘Merlin’ as the dragonets flew away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chara helping Lailaps, his wound already healing, at least no longer dripping blood.
“What the hell was that? Are you helping them? Against everything I’ve commanded of you?” Arthur was livid, his face stone-hard as he stared at Merlin.
“I told you not to hurt them, you… you arse. I’m surprised you weren’t burnt to death, going after them like that.” Merlin wiped his hand across his face, the dried blood now flaking off a bit. The nose was still broken, though, and every time Merlin breathed, it sent a jolt of pain into his head. “You broke my nose.”
“I should have run you through for defying me like that,” Arthur yelled, waving his sword around like some kind of mad thing, then stabbed the dirt at his feet with it.
Merlin narrowed his eyes. No matter how much it hurt, Arthur wasn’t going to get away with it. “And that’s my reward for saving your life? Gods above, you are such a cabbagehead.”
“You let them go!” Arthur’s voice reverberated in the cave, the echo of it bouncing off the walls as his words grew softer and softer with the distance.
“Yes, and I’d do it again,” Merlin said, lifting his head in defiance.
“You are dismissed from my service. I cannot have a servant who will defy me when Camelot’s safety is at stake.” And with that, Arthur turned away, muttering to himself as he climbed the stairs.
Merlin stood there, stunned. He’d been sacked. Again.