Render it True
Title: Render it True
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A spell gone awry causes a series of revelations for a hapless Merlin, some more horrifying than others.
Word count: 3,496
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Originally posted in the 2010 round at merlin_muses for Prompt #367.
Beta: The ever beautiful & wonderful dysonrules
Merlin was utterly fed up. He was itchy, tired, hungry and miserable. They’d been traipsing around this forest for an hour now, with nothing to show for it bar a few rabbits. Arthur had decided that, with his father’s birthday rapidly approaching, a boar hunt was a necessity so that the King could enjoy a birthday feast fit for… well, a king. As a result, they had left the castle at an indecent hour that morning and headed in to the forest on foot, Merlin laden down with supplies and equipment.
Arthur’s mood, which had been fairly bright that morning with the prospect of a good hunt and potentially pleasing his father, had been gradually worsening as the day wore on with no sign of the animals they were seeking.
Merlin had, unfortunately but not unusually, borne the brunt of Arthur’s temper. When he had accidentally trodden loudly on a twig at a crucial moment for the fourth time in a row, Arthur had whirled around glaring and, with a muttered “Idiot!”, had promptly shoved Merlin into the nearest tree. The nearest tree, coincidentally, had been covered in a large amount of poison ivy. Merlin had immediately broken out in a red, sore, itchy rash wherever his bare skin had made contact with the vines. Though Arthur had looked mildly apologetic afterwards, Merlin had been glaring daggers at the back of his head ever since.
All he wanted to do was go home, get some salve for the itching from Gaius, get fussed over by Gwen, eat something hot and then collapse into bed in the hope that tomorrow would be a better day. There seemed little chance of that happening, though - Arthur looked set to keep hunting all night if need be.
At the moment Merlin began to despair of ever escaping the trees, Arthur suddenly became more alert and gave a series of rapid and incomprehensible (to Merlin) hand signals. The signals had apparently told the knights accompanying them to circle around their prey, as Leon and Bors stealthily crept right and Gawain and Kay circled quietly to their left.
Arthur began to move slowly forward, hefting his spear into a more comfortable throwing position as he went. Merlin followed along, flicking his eyes constantly between Arthur’s back and the ground in an attempt to avoid any more twig-related incidents.
As he and Arthur inched past the tree line of a large clearing, the hairs on Merlin’s arms stood up and he immediately looked up and beyond Arthur warily.
There in the centre of the glade, looking for all the world as if she were waiting for them, stood a rather haggard-looking woman. The lines on her face did not hide the fact that she had clearly been a great beauty in her time, but the dark circles under her faded green eyes and the hatred twisting her features belied that past.
“Hail, young Pendragon,” she greeted hoarsely, “How goes your hunt?”
Arthur, though clearly wary and maintaining a firm grip on his spear, answered politely.
“It goes well, milady, thank you. May we be of assistance to you?”
“Indeed, you can,” the woman responded with a cold laugh. “Your father has done a great many wrongs in his lifetime, yet regrets none. He has taken much from me, yet given nothing in return. Perhaps, when I return his only son to him with the thread of his sanity broken, he will see the error of his ways and the mercy in mine. I, after all, will not take your life like he did the lives of my kin.”
‘Oh, bloody hell, not another one!’ Merlin thought irreverently, then promptly threw himself bodily between his Prince and the sizzling cobalt light heading for him as the lady thrust out her hand and cast.
Almost instantly, a burning, blue pulsating light coalesced with incredible pain behind his eyes. It felt like his brain was going to explode through his eye sockets and he cried out wildly, hearing his shout echoed. As Merlin succumbed to blessed pain-free darkness, he vaguely registered strong arms wrapping around him and a firm body cradling his fall.
********
When Merlin awoke, with a strange buzzing sound in his ears, his first thought was that he didn’t want to wake up as he was extremely comfortable. He nuzzled contentedly into his mattress, but stilled immediately when his mattress gave a grunt. Merlin may not have been fully awake yet, but that didn’t seem normal for a mattress. He pulled back slowly to see Arthur gazing at him in great amusement.
“Comfy, are we?”
Merlin blushed and rolled off him quickly, but not before hearing a snort of laughter from behind him. He glanced around and saw Sir Bors trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. Merlin began to scowl before catching sight of Sir Leon. The tall knight was leaning over the body of the woman who had attacked them; his spear had skewered her straight through her chest and Leon stood in a pool of dark red blood. The woman's blank, sightless eyes seemed to pierce Merlin accusingly and he looked away queasily, swallowing heavily. It was almost like he could taste the guilty tang of iron and bloodshed on the air as he gulped, and he got quickly and unsteadily to his feet, looking at the trees around them instead.
He shouldn’t feel guilty about this one. He shouldn’t. She may have had magic like him, but she had used it against Arthur and that he could not abide. Could not allow. He hadn’t been the one to take her life, anyway. Though that felt like cold comfort alongside the knowledge that he would have done it to protect Arthur, had Sir Leon not acted first.
As he scrubbed a hand across his face he heard a pained sound from Arthur’s direction, and looked up to see Arthur staring almost angrily at him, though there were emotions other than just anger in his intense gaze.
“You hurt?”
“No, Merlin, I’m not hurt. Of course not. How could I be? Not when every single bloody person around me seems intent on throwing themselves in harm’s way so that I don’t have to get bloody hurt!”
Merlin was more than a little wary of the way Arthur’s voice had risen during that tirade, but he rarely turned down an opportunity to be disrespectful to his Prince.
“You’re welcome, Princess.”
Arthur looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, and Merlin had to duck quickly when he threw his spear lengthways at him, laughing when he heard Kay mutter,
Brave. Stupid, but brave.
He turned and winked at the knight, who now looked confusedly amused by the interaction.
*****
They had turned for home not long after, though Arthur continued to look slightly angry and out of sorts. The attack, however brief and unsuccessful it had been, had soured their appetite for the hunt. Luckily, while circling the clearing under Arthur’s orders, Gawain had somehow managed to almost stumble over a twelve-point stag grazing and felled it with his spear before it even realized he was there. The Prince seemed satisfied that they at least had something other than rabbits to show for the day, and Bors had slung the carcass over his shoulder. They’d left the clearing and Merlin had averted his eyes from the burnt remains and pyre that was to be their attacker’s last resting place.
Being away from that place had cleared Merlin’s mind a little, and the itch of the poison ivy had returned to his awareness. As he scratched rather viciously, he became increasingly amused by the ongoing commentary from Sir Leon as they walked. The knight was normally rather taciturn, but apparently the day’s events had unleashed a veritable verbal barrage.
That was such a shame. I really liked that spear. I would have much rather used it on a boar. Would have been less bloody. Maybe. That’s an interesting looking tree. I wonder how far we are from home now? I hope that there’s something good for supper tonight. I’m starving. I like that tunic that Prince Arthur’s wearing. I wonder where the seamstress got the material from? Maybe she’ll have some left to make one for me. Bors looks like he’s sweating a lot from carrying that stag. It must be awfully heavy. That’s a pretty butterfly.
Merlin turned incredulously at the butterfly remark, wondering why no-one seemed to be concerned by Sir Leon behaving so uncharacteristically. Leon looked back enquiringly at Merlin, and Merlin came to the sudden and horrifying realization that Leon wasn’t talking. At least, not out loud. Merlin continued to hear Leon’s voice making random observations at a mile a minute, but his mouth remained stubbornly closed. Well, that explained exactly what sort of magic had been thrown at them earlier, he supposed. He gave Leon a weak smile before turning back to the front and having a quiet mental panic. Hearing people’s thoughts was a little worrying, but surely nothing that could break a man’s sanity. Right? Right. He just wouldn’t go around advertising the fact that he could listen in on others’ internal musings, as that would be utterly stupid and put him on the fast track to the execution block if Uther ever found out. It might be a good idea to question Gaius about it, though - he’d have a better idea of whether it was permanent or whether there was a way he could switch it off. Maybe he should check the magic book too, just in case there was precedence for this.
All of a sudden there was a short growl before Merlin was cuffed hard round the back of the head by Arthur.
“Ow!!! What was that for, you prat?”
“Nothing, you complete moron.”
“Arse.”
“Idiot.”
Merlin muttered something highly uncomplimentary under his breath. It was a bloody good thing he was in love with the smug bastard, or he would have retaliated to all the uncalled for insults and attacks with something violent. Or maybe just humiliating. Like causing the laces on Arthur’s breeches to snap in the centre of the busy central courtyard on a day when all of his underwear happened to be in the wash and various important dignitaries were visiting. Not that he’d already imagined doing that several hundred times, or anything. Or looked up the spells just in case.
To his right, Arthur seemed to choke on his tongue before tripping over his own feet and toppling into a patch of brambles. Vengeance, Merlin decided through his laughter, was sweet indeed.
****
“People’s thoughts?”
“Yes.”
“Everything they’re thinking?”
“Well, it’s not like I have any way of testing that, but it seems so yes. The thoughts are, er…visual as well as aural. Sir Leon was twittering on like a mad thing about everything he saw, Sir Bors complained about the weight of the stag constantly, Sir Kay seemed to be fantasizing about some wench he tumbled the other night and speculating about whether she’d agree to getting her sister in on the action, and Sir Gawain… ” Merlin coughed, embarrassedly. “Gawain appeared to spend the whole journey back admiring mine and Arthur’s arses and contemplating whether we’d had sex with each other yet.”
Gaius’s eyebrow rose.
I’ve been wondering the same thing.
Merlin valiantly ignored this.
“And Arthur?”
“Ummm…that was the odd thing. I didn’t hear anything from Arthur.” Merlin grinned cheekily, “Though I suppose it’s possible that he really is as empty-headed as I accuse him of being occasionally.”
“Merlin, behave.” That’s rather odd.
“Sorry,” was his insincere rejoinder. “So what do you think? Er…out loud, please.”
Gaius turned to the shelf behind him, scanning the books as he tapped his lips with a crooked finger. He picked out a strange little volume bound in dark green leather and covered in symbols outlined in gold filigree, quickly leafing through and browsing the pages before heaving a sigh.
“You wait.”
“Wait? Wait for what?”
“For the magic to wear off. By all accounts, the type of magic you describe requires a decent amount of power to sustain it. I suspect the lady intended to cast it and then disappear so that she could control Prince Arthur’s descent into madness from a safe distance, but Sir Leon’s spear rather put a stop to that plan. With the caster dead, the magic should fade with time.”
“Are you sure?”
The eyebrow rose again, rather menacingly. The thought accompanying it was rather rude.
“Right. Stupid question. Of course you’re sure. I know that you wouldn’t risk my mental health for a joke, or anything. Any idea of how long?”
“That depends on the caster. But I would estimate about a week. Certainly no more than two.”
“So, stay away from Sir Gawain for the next two weeks is what you’re saying?”
Gaius just gave a smirk.
*****
It was unbearable. How had he ever thought that he could manage with his new ‘gift’. There were far too many people in Camelot for one thing - he was now avoiding the marketplace, courtyard, kitchens and any feasts like the plague, as they had all given him dreadful headaches. So many thoughts crowding his head, on top of the normal voices and noises, had made it abundantly clear that the sorceress would have been horribly successful had she hit her target and had she survived.
Thankfully, Merlin had been blasted instead of Arthur. Whereas the Prince had duties he could not avoid, his manservant already had a bit of a reputation amongst the castle staff for being lackadaisical about his duties, though they seemed to like him all the same - he had taken full advantage of this and enlisted the help of several of the other servants so that he could avoid the busier areas.
Peter, the third cook, was bringing Arthur’s trays to Merlin at the end of the corridor away from the kitchen (chosen because Peter had odd thoughts about vegetables, but at least didn’t fantasise about the gruesome deaths of everyone he met like the second cook did). Aewyn was one of the seamstress’s assistants and had agreed to pick up things from the market if he needed them, as she went there daily on various fabric-related errands. She was a sweet girl, who seemed to think about her family rather a lot and clearly missed them - Merlin would have spent more time with her, if that hadn’t also meant spending time with the Head Seamstress. The things that woman wanted to do to Geoffrey the Librarian made his mind boggle, his eyes water and his stomach rebel. He really didn’t want to nearly throw up again.
Gwen, being the rather wonderful person she was, had agreed to serve both Arthur and Morgana at any feasts for the time being. Although his rather spectacular flailing spill of the wine pitcher at the King’s birthday feast, dousing nearly the entire head table in fragrant crimson liquid, may have possibly been the reason behind her kindness. Only Arthur’s rather vehement apologies for his "mentally incapacitated" manservant had saved him from anything worse than a day in the stocks - though that had been pretty bad, what with the sheer evil contained in the minds of small children armed with rotten vegetables. Honestly, some of those kids were properly screwed up.
The Feast Incident, as Arthur had taken to calling it, hadn’t truly been his fault. He’d challenge anyone to maintain their pouring coordination when the King is right next to you reminiscing about the many times and various ways in which he’d shagged Arthur’s mother on the table at which they were all eating. It was simple concern for basic hygiene (and an attempt to stop gagging) that had caused the wine flail. Arthur had made a cursory attempt at telling Merlin off once they were back in his rooms, but Merlin’s mind would not stop repeating what Uther had been thinking and he suspected he had been pretty unresponsive for quite a while. Certainly Arthur had gone quiet, and had looked rather pale and nauseous.
Gwen, though, the sweetheart, had offered to fill in for him until he ‘got over whatever drama he was experiencing this week’. She may have even been a little sarcastic when saying that, but he’d rather missed it what with her thoughts broadcasting a naked and obviously satisfied Morgana waiting for her in her rooms. He’d flushed rather heavily, which had prompted a slew of apologies from Gwen for being sarcastic and a bad friend, then offering to sort out Arthur’s washing for a week to show how sorry she was. Which he’d obviously accepted because it meant not having to go near the busy laundry - plus Arthur’s shirts got quite rank on training days.
He’d attempted to find some peace and quiet in his own rooms, but after accidentally overhearing Gaius’s thoughts about his mother, he had fled to the Dragon feeling pale and clammy. He’d felt sure that the Dragon was a safe bet because it could already do the whole mind-calling thing, so it probably had uber-magical control over its thoughts. As he ran back up the stone steps out of the cavern, utterly unashamed of running away (again), he acknowledged his mistake. Apparently Gawain and the dragon had a lot in common. And dragon-thoughts were also really bloody loud.
Merlin bolted to his only remaining place of solace…Arthur’s rooms.
*****
For the next few days, Merlin continued to hear absolutely nothing of Arthur’s mental meanderings. He would have been more curious about this if it weren’t such an utter relief. The lack of noise, unless Arthur actually said something aloud, was delightful.
Arthur had been strangely quiet since the attack in the woods. He spoke little and had at first seemed to go out of his way to avoid his manservant. Though, when Merlin had made it virtually impossible by dogging his every thought-free step, Arthur had resumed his intense and sometimes slightly angry staring.
Merlin ignored that, for the most part, and simply basked in the knowledge that he was unbothered by other people’s minds in Arthur's rooms and could enjoy his own instead. Which usually involved manfully resisting the temptation to stare dreamily at Arthur and sigh like a lovestruck teenager, whilst imagining him in the buff and doing filthy things to an equally naked Merlin. He wasn’t particularly successful.
Weirdly, Arthur also seemed to be blushing a lot more since the sorceress’s ambush. And needing to cross his legs with a look of mild discomfort frequently. Or rapidly turning his face away from his manservant on a regular basis. All very odd, but Merlin didn’t spend much time dwelling on it.
*****
Whilst Merlin was in the midst of a rather invigorating (if the flush on his cheeks was any indication) fantasy involving rimming - a practice he had only come across that morning while passing one of the castle guards with Arthur’s breakfast - Arthur unexpectedly slammed his fist on the table at which they were sitting.
“Enough, Merlin!!!”
Merlin, having been rudely jolted away from what he considered the best bit, looked petulant while drawing up his knees to hide his reaction to the daydream.
“What?!” He injected every bit of surliness he could manage into the one word.
“I have listened to you constantly for the past few days and I have had enough. First it’s the magic…” Merlin went deathly pale. “Which, by the way, I’m really bloody annoyed with you about - thanks so much for telling me at any point over the last two years. Then it’s the fact that you love me - which, good to know, I might have suffered slightly less sexual frustration over the past year and not had a panic attack over falling in love with a the most insubordinate man I have ever met.” Merlin flushed a bright pink. “Then you traumatize me with the sexual deviancies of every single person in the castle, including my father. And, now? Now you spend the better part of each day tormenting me with graphic images of exactly what I would like to be doing to you on a near-constant basis!”
“Ummmm….”
“Stop being a bloody cock-tease and bloody do something!” Arthur yelled.
Merlin, grinning in sheer delight, stood slowly and leaned over the table into Arthur’s space.
“You really know how to seduce a guy, don’t you?”
Arthur’s response was to haul him over the table, onto his shoulder, and stride to the bed to throw Merlin onto it so quickly that he bounced.
“I’ll show you bloody seduction.”
*****
A day and a half later, unable to move a single part of their bodies without trembling in pleasure-sated exhaustion, the room filled with the smells of sweat and sex, Merlin and Arthur discovered that the sorceress’s magic had finally worn off.
Poor Sir Leon, however, was never the same again.