Cut Him Out in Little Stars (Prologue, Leon/Merlin, PG)
Title: Cut Him Out in Little Stars (Prologue)
Rating: PG (for now)
Parings: Leon/Merlin eventually.
Warnings/Spoilers: Let's just say the first two series, to be safe.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: "He was a simple man, they realized, who enjoyed food for its taste and loved the wind for its feel." Sir Leon is a man with a sad past. Merlin is a boy with secrets. Both have futures that only the stars can tell. Prologue to a larger story.
Cut Him Out in Little Stars
bycanarypaper
Prologue
He flew as fast as his feet would carry him. Dashed through the dark of the clear night, out of the stone walls of the castle, over the gravel roads, through the fields of thick, tall grass. The spring air was thick and humid, oppressive against his gasps for breath. The ground became softer, wetter. Gnats swarmed his face as he found himself sinking into the marshes, his tears hot against their burning bites.
Leon, eldest son of the Viscount of Mynwy, sank to his knees in the thick mud and grass of his father's land, heaving broken, gasping sobs from his body. His shoulders shook violently from his crying. His mouth contorted into a twitching grimace.
Slamming his fists into the mud beneath him, he let out an animalistic shout to the heavens. All his agony, his grief, his anger poured out to the flickering lights of faraway stars.
And when his voice was too hoarse to scream again, he fell to the earth, hand clenching and un-clenching in the mud, eyes too tired to shed anymore tears.
The stars still shone as they covered the poor girl's body with a sheet of fine, white linen. The body of the little baby was wrapped similarly, set next to her.
Leon, caked with mud and grime, sat stiffly in a chair next to the bed. A servant stood awkwardly in the corner, wondering whether to put out the candles or simply stare at his lord.
"Please... leave us," Leon said in a distant, rough voice. The servant eagerly complied, slipping out of the room, shutting the door, quietly.
The room was silent. Still. So much different from the agonized cries that had filled the castle earlier. Of life entering the world and being ripped away just as violently.
Leon stood, shuffling over to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached a hand to the tiny little form of his child, his son. Rested it on the crown of his head.
He moved his hand to the edge of the linen covering his wife's face, her beautiful, beautiful face. Pulling it down, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes again, but he was too exhausted to shed them.
There she lay, looking as if she were only asleep. Her long brown curls framed her young, delicate face. The freckles across her nose stood out against her pale, pale skin.
"What shall I do without you?" he asked in the barest of whispers.
There was no reply. But Leon stayed all night waiting for one.
He had felt drawn to Camelot. Pulled there by some invisible force. The knighthood beckoned him. The chance to achieve something worthy, to make a difference in the land he loved so much was compelling.
And so he went. He threw himself into his training. He learned the ways of the knight, the ways of the warrior, and became invaluable to his Prince.
He became Sir Leon, arguably the bravest of all Prince Arthur's knights (and if anyone said differently, Bedeviere would throw his gauntlet down at their feet).
But Leon was humble, sincere. He accepted the praise with a blush and a nod.
He kept to himself, mostly, even when he would laugh and drink with the bawdy knights. He was a simple man, they realized, who enjoyed food for its taste and loved the wind for its feel. And there was nothing he loved more than a clear night with plenty of stars.
The knights would leave him when he went up to the battlements late in the evenings, knowing he would prefer to be alone.
That was why, on that particular night, Leon was surprised to see the slim, gawky form of Prince Arthur's manservant leaning against the cold stone.
The wind whipped through the towers, making Merlin's hair a black mess and making his red neckerchief wave. Leon smiled. What a strange boy this Merlin was.
"Nice night," he said, approaching the boy.
Merlin jumped, startled, eyes wide. "Oh, Sir Leon," he let out a breath and quickly wiped a hand over his eyes. "Sorry, I, uh, I wasn't expecting anyone to be up here."
Leon paused, taking in the boy's appearance. Even in the soft moonlight, he could see that Merlin had been crying. His cheeks were streaked and shining, eyes red and swollen. His shoulders were tense and lower lip twitched.
But what concerned Leon most was the haunted, dark shadow in Merlin's eyes.
It was a look he had seen far too often on himself. This was not the look of an innocent boy. It was that of a grieving man.
Leon leaned against the stone wall, gazing across Camelot and its many glowing lights. "What brings you up here, Merlin?" he asked, keeping his tone light. "The Prince having you run some useless errand just to rile you up?" He smiled.
Merlin gave a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "No, not tonight. I just... needed some fresh air."
Leon nodded, watching the young man from the corner of his eye. Merlin pulled anxiously at his sleeve, face pinched, hurt. The knight had seen Merlin with his Prince enough to know that this was not normal. This was not the clumsy, kindhearted boy who followed Arthur on missions, eager for adventure. There was something heartbreakingly sad about him.
"The stars always help me when I need to think through things," Leon said pointedly. He looked to the shimmering lights in the sky.
Merlin shrugged. "They are nice, I suppose."
"They're constant, unlike many things in this world." Leon closed his eyes. "They never seem to change. It's... comforting."
They were quiet for a long moment, sharing in this appreciation.
"Merlin," the knight said, turning to face him. The boy raised his wide, blue eyes to look at him. There was such pain reflected in them that it twisted Leon's insides. The familiar burn of grief was overwhelming. "When you want to talk about whoever it is you lost, feel free to talk to me."
Merlin looked taken aback by that, shocked at being read so easily. But he nodded.
Leon put a kind hand on his shoulders, giving him a small smile. "You're a good person, Merlin. You don't deserve such pain." He squeezed, before letting go and moved towards the stairs.
He left the young man, silhouetted by the steady, flickering light of the heavens.
Unbeknownst to both the men, the stars had quite a plan for them.
Rating: PG (for now)
Parings: Leon/Merlin eventually.
Warnings/Spoilers: Let's just say the first two series, to be safe.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: "He was a simple man, they realized, who enjoyed food for its taste and loved the wind for its feel." Sir Leon is a man with a sad past. Merlin is a boy with secrets. Both have futures that only the stars can tell. Prologue to a larger story.
Cut Him Out in Little Stars
bycanarypaper
Prologue
He flew as fast as his feet would carry him. Dashed through the dark of the clear night, out of the stone walls of the castle, over the gravel roads, through the fields of thick, tall grass. The spring air was thick and humid, oppressive against his gasps for breath. The ground became softer, wetter. Gnats swarmed his face as he found himself sinking into the marshes, his tears hot against their burning bites.
Leon, eldest son of the Viscount of Mynwy, sank to his knees in the thick mud and grass of his father's land, heaving broken, gasping sobs from his body. His shoulders shook violently from his crying. His mouth contorted into a twitching grimace.
Slamming his fists into the mud beneath him, he let out an animalistic shout to the heavens. All his agony, his grief, his anger poured out to the flickering lights of faraway stars.
And when his voice was too hoarse to scream again, he fell to the earth, hand clenching and un-clenching in the mud, eyes too tired to shed anymore tears.
The stars still shone as they covered the poor girl's body with a sheet of fine, white linen. The body of the little baby was wrapped similarly, set next to her.
Leon, caked with mud and grime, sat stiffly in a chair next to the bed. A servant stood awkwardly in the corner, wondering whether to put out the candles or simply stare at his lord.
"Please... leave us," Leon said in a distant, rough voice. The servant eagerly complied, slipping out of the room, shutting the door, quietly.
The room was silent. Still. So much different from the agonized cries that had filled the castle earlier. Of life entering the world and being ripped away just as violently.
Leon stood, shuffling over to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached a hand to the tiny little form of his child, his son. Rested it on the crown of his head.
He moved his hand to the edge of the linen covering his wife's face, her beautiful, beautiful face. Pulling it down, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes again, but he was too exhausted to shed them.
There she lay, looking as if she were only asleep. Her long brown curls framed her young, delicate face. The freckles across her nose stood out against her pale, pale skin.
"What shall I do without you?" he asked in the barest of whispers.
There was no reply. But Leon stayed all night waiting for one.
He had felt drawn to Camelot. Pulled there by some invisible force. The knighthood beckoned him. The chance to achieve something worthy, to make a difference in the land he loved so much was compelling.
And so he went. He threw himself into his training. He learned the ways of the knight, the ways of the warrior, and became invaluable to his Prince.
He became Sir Leon, arguably the bravest of all Prince Arthur's knights (and if anyone said differently, Bedeviere would throw his gauntlet down at their feet).
But Leon was humble, sincere. He accepted the praise with a blush and a nod.
He kept to himself, mostly, even when he would laugh and drink with the bawdy knights. He was a simple man, they realized, who enjoyed food for its taste and loved the wind for its feel. And there was nothing he loved more than a clear night with plenty of stars.
The knights would leave him when he went up to the battlements late in the evenings, knowing he would prefer to be alone.
That was why, on that particular night, Leon was surprised to see the slim, gawky form of Prince Arthur's manservant leaning against the cold stone.
The wind whipped through the towers, making Merlin's hair a black mess and making his red neckerchief wave. Leon smiled. What a strange boy this Merlin was.
"Nice night," he said, approaching the boy.
Merlin jumped, startled, eyes wide. "Oh, Sir Leon," he let out a breath and quickly wiped a hand over his eyes. "Sorry, I, uh, I wasn't expecting anyone to be up here."
Leon paused, taking in the boy's appearance. Even in the soft moonlight, he could see that Merlin had been crying. His cheeks were streaked and shining, eyes red and swollen. His shoulders were tense and lower lip twitched.
But what concerned Leon most was the haunted, dark shadow in Merlin's eyes.
It was a look he had seen far too often on himself. This was not the look of an innocent boy. It was that of a grieving man.
Leon leaned against the stone wall, gazing across Camelot and its many glowing lights. "What brings you up here, Merlin?" he asked, keeping his tone light. "The Prince having you run some useless errand just to rile you up?" He smiled.
Merlin gave a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "No, not tonight. I just... needed some fresh air."
Leon nodded, watching the young man from the corner of his eye. Merlin pulled anxiously at his sleeve, face pinched, hurt. The knight had seen Merlin with his Prince enough to know that this was not normal. This was not the clumsy, kindhearted boy who followed Arthur on missions, eager for adventure. There was something heartbreakingly sad about him.
"The stars always help me when I need to think through things," Leon said pointedly. He looked to the shimmering lights in the sky.
Merlin shrugged. "They are nice, I suppose."
"They're constant, unlike many things in this world." Leon closed his eyes. "They never seem to change. It's... comforting."
They were quiet for a long moment, sharing in this appreciation.
"Merlin," the knight said, turning to face him. The boy raised his wide, blue eyes to look at him. There was such pain reflected in them that it twisted Leon's insides. The familiar burn of grief was overwhelming. "When you want to talk about whoever it is you lost, feel free to talk to me."
Merlin looked taken aback by that, shocked at being read so easily. But he nodded.
Leon put a kind hand on his shoulders, giving him a small smile. "You're a good person, Merlin. You don't deserve such pain." He squeezed, before letting go and moved towards the stairs.
He left the young man, silhouetted by the steady, flickering light of the heavens.
Unbeknownst to both the men, the stars had quite a plan for them.