Fic: Merlin - Wheee new fandom!; PG
Title:Swinging from the Chandeliers
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Merlin/Arthur
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, unsurprisingly, nor do I own the Arthurian legends.
Warnings: Fluff... pure unadulterated fluff
Spoilers: None really... just the show in general Nothing specific
AN: A new fandom! A new fic. This is not the first fic I have written for Merlin, but it is the first fic I have posted online. I'm still finding my footing though so... feel free to rip it to shreds, it's the only way I'll learn.
Many thanks to wrennette for a speedy and brilliant beta.
I need a Merlin icon.
Summary: Arthur gets drunk and goes walkabout, Merlin finds him... fluff ensues.
While Merlin had to admit that the part of him that was perpetually five years old had always wondered what it would be like to play hide and seek in the castle, searching high and low for a drunken Prince in the middle of the night was not on his to do list. Not only had the ‘hider’ conveniently forgotten to tell the ‘seeker’ what was going on, sneaking off while he was distracted by talking to Gwen; he was a little old to play hide and seek these days. Although, apparently, a slight age issue was not enough to stop the Crown Prince of Camelot.
Merlin was not entirely sure why Arthur had run off. Everything had been fine: the Prince was in one of his giggly and chatty drunk moods, not morose or angry or flirtatious, for which his manservant had been grateful. Merlin had been hauling the drunken royal ass back to his quarters, rolling his eyes at Arthur’s terrible drunken jokes and making sure he did not fall over too many times, when they had bumped into Gwen. She had asked a question about something that had seemed very important at the time and that was when everything had gone wrong.
It should have been fine. Merlin had propped the inebriated heir to the throne, who had been hopelessly unable to support his own weight, against a wall. Arthur had been quite happy giggling and making comments about Merlin and Gwen that he probably thought were subtle but had really been more akin to a brick to the head. Then, somewhere in the middle of the conversation, he had fallen silent and Merlin, idiot that he was - not that he would ever let Arthur hear him admit that - had merely thanked God that he was quiet for a moment. It was only minutes later, when Gwen had asked, quite innocently, where he had got to, that Merlin had turned to discover the empty corridor.
How Arthur had been able to move at all, let alone quietly enough not to be noticed, was beyond him. But he had and Merlin had not really been able to do anything more than swear and run after him, leaving a rather amused Gwen behind.
And so had begun the great game of hide and seek that Merlin would really rather not be taking part in. They were playing by Arthur’s rules, whatever those were, and he was beyond fed up with the situation. The young warlock was not wholly sure how long he had been looking for the wayward Prince, but he was fairly certain he had climbed every staircase in the castle twice. He had checked the courtyard, the Prince’s chambers, the hall and even the strange alcove by the door to the armoury where he sometimes cleaned Arthur’s sword. The heir apparent was nowhere to be found, and it was completely unfair; Arthur had had an entire lifetime to memorise all the nooks and crannies of the castle, while Merlin had only had a few months.
Merlin was debating the benefits of just leaving the drunken fool lost and taking whatever punishment Arthur meted out in the morning when he passed the throne room and caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.
Arthur was slumped across his throne haphazardly; one of his legs was flung over the arm, the other still - just - touching the floor. Moonlight was streaming through one of the high windows, drenching the Prince with silver light, turning his red tunic a strange purple colour and making his skin gleam.
Merlin stood in the doorway watching the Prince, held by the curious spell of silence that pervaded the room. Arthur’s head was flung back to stare at the ceiling and Merlin’s eyes traced the silvery line of his throat upwards in a long curve.
This was not the same Arthur he had left against the wall of the corridor and misplaced. Where the earlier Arthur had been all movement: lurching here, smacking Merlin on the back and bellowing lewd drinking songs as he quaffed along with an invisible mug of ale; this Arthur was perfect stillness and silence. He was almost like a painting, sitting there and staring upwards endlessly. Merlin did not want to interrupt, but he took a step forward anyway, drawn by some unseen force.
As soon as he took the step, Merlin regretted it. The soft sound of his shoe touching the stone seemed as loud as the clash of sword on sword in the silence. He winced, knowing Arthur must have heard him. But the momentary heart-thudding alarm of the moment was abated as Arthur continued to stare upwards, not moving at all.
After a second in which Merlin had to remind himself to breathe, Arthur finally acknowledged his presence. The Prince still did not tear his eyes away from the ceiling, but opened his mouth to speak softly. His words echoed round the empty chamber.
“I remember, when I was little, I always wanted to swing on the chandeliers in here,” said Arthur, still staring up at them. Merlin risked another few steps forward, encouraged. “I wondered what my father would do if - during some important meeting - I just swung across on them.” That raised a chuckle from his manservant and Arthur turned to look at him. He was smiling sadly and gestured for Merlin to come closer, which he did willingly.
“I just wanted to know what it would feel like… I always wondered, but I never got ‘round to doing it.” He paused and looked back upwards. Merlin followed his gaze to the huge rings that hung from the ceiling but stayed silent, unwilling to interrupt this moment of introspection. He could picture Arthur, a tiny beautiful blond child, staring up at the chandeliers as wistfully as he was now.
“I was always doing things like that - just to see if I could, to see what they felt like,” Arthur said with a rueful smirk at his own innocence. “When I was five, I went for a walk on the ramparts,” he paused before clarifying, “the walls that is, not the walkways. The woman who was supposed to take care of me was terrified when she realised where I had gone. She found me standing there just looking down, and I remember her screaming, but I wasn’t scared. I just remember wondering what it would be like to fall, or fly like a bird, and the feeling of the wind rushing past me.”
Merlin took another step forward and almost put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but he hesitated and withdrew before they touched. The Prince granted him a small smile before turning back to the ceiling.
“I think you might be a little big to swing on them now,” he said lightly and Arthur sighed. Merlin had the strange feeling that he had said something wrong.
“It doesn’t make the idea any less appealing,” the Prince said, turning to gaze at Merlin with the same thoughtful expression he had used on the light fixtures.
“What?” Merlin asked uncomfortably, but Arthur did not answer. He was still scanning every inch of Merlin’s face with an intensity which made the young warlock squirm. “Arthur?”
“Don’t you ever want to do something outrageous to see if it feels as good as you think it will?” Merlin stared back at him in the silence that followed the question. He was fairly certain that there was more to Arthur’s words than a simple question and he knew instinctively that answering it - correctly or incorrectly - would change everything. He felt that same hushed reverence that had captured him when he first entered the room return, and he did not want to break the moment. Instead he simply looked back at Arthur who sat, stark and silver in the moonlight, more peaceful than he had ever seen him before.
Arthur swung to his feet abruptly. He stood in one smooth movement and, before Merlin had the time to blink, the distance between them disappeared.
“Did you ever stand on the edge of a cliff, or the branch of a tree and have an urge to jump so strong that you had to force yourself not to, just because you wanted to know how exhilarating it would be to fall?”
Merlin stayed silent, watching the Prince watch him, searching for an answer on his face.
“Do you know what it’s like when everything in your head is suddenly clear and there’s only one thing that you want to do?” Arthur asked as he took a small step forward so they were standing toe to toe. Merlin found he could not focus on anything other than the Prince’s eyes and the soft touch of his wine-scented breath on his face.
“Do you understand what it is to not be afraid although you know you should be?”
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper but he knew that Arthur must have heard it. They were so close now that Merlin was surprised Arthur could hear his thoughts flashing through his brain. The entire world was still except for them and it was as though everything else was falling away.
“Good.”
Suddenly Arthur was moving, surging towards him. Everything that had been pent up while they were talking was released abruptly and focussed solely on Merlin. One of Arthur’s hands was at the back of his neck, pulling him roughly forwards before fingers stretched upwards to tangle in his hair. The other arm wrapped around Merlin’s shoulder as their lips collided.
The moment was pure exhilaration and Merlin found himself reacting without thinking. He was reaching out to grab the front of the Prince’s tunic and pulling him as close as he could. As Arthur attacked him, he attacked back with hands and lips and teeth and tongue. Their whole bodies collided with each other, until they both pulled back at the same time, arms still looped around each other, gasping for air.
It felt like floating for a moment, as though his feet had somehow left the ground while they had been connected and he was now in mid air, floating or falling or flying. Every breath of air that rushed into his lungs made a shock run through him. It had actually happened. The warm heavy feeling of Arthur’s arms around him, Arthur’s hands pressed tightly against him, made his entire body fizz with movement that he could barely contain.
“Still want to swing on the chandelier?” Merlin asked with a grin, when he had found the ground beneath his feet again. He wanted to laugh, and run and jump until the air burnt in his lungs and his feet gave out beneath him. The rich flavour of the royal wine was still in his mouth and he wondered if it were possible to get drunk off the fumes from someone else, except it did not feel like he was drunk. Instead of the fuzziness of alcohol, everything felt crisper and clearer. Every noise, every colour, every touch was more immediate. Arthur chuckled and Merlin could feel the laughter vibrating through him as if it was his own.
“I feel like I just did…” the Prince said in a low whisper that Merlin could hear with every inch of his body.
Then Arthur pulled back and began to walk out of the room, leaving Merlin staring after him. He paused in the doorway and leant against the stone wall; the pensive look from earlier was replaced once more with his usual drunken mixture of amusement and disdain. “What are you waiting for, Merlin?” he asked officiously, but there was an undercurrent of affection there which made the warlock smile. “Escort me to my chambers… I am drunk, after all and you’ve done a terrible job of it so far.”
“Yes Arthur,” his manservant said with a grin, hurrying over to him. As Merlin reached him, the Prince draped an arm across his shoulders and leant into him heavily, although Merlin was no longer sure he was that drunk.
“Will you be requiring anything else?” he asked politely as they made their way down the corridor, a clumsy four-legged creature that only seemed half in control of its own actions.
“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Arthur drawled. He turned his face into the curve of Merlin’s neck so that his manservant could feel his smile against his skin. “Unless you have somewhere else you’d rather be…”
“Can’t think of anywhere,” Merlin said with complete honesty.
“Good.”
---
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Merlin/Arthur
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, unsurprisingly, nor do I own the Arthurian legends.
Warnings: Fluff... pure unadulterated fluff
Spoilers: None really... just the show in general Nothing specific
AN: A new fandom! A new fic. This is not the first fic I have written for Merlin, but it is the first fic I have posted online. I'm still finding my footing though so... feel free to rip it to shreds, it's the only way I'll learn.
Many thanks to wrennette for a speedy and brilliant beta.
I need a Merlin icon.
Summary: Arthur gets drunk and goes walkabout, Merlin finds him... fluff ensues.
While Merlin had to admit that the part of him that was perpetually five years old had always wondered what it would be like to play hide and seek in the castle, searching high and low for a drunken Prince in the middle of the night was not on his to do list. Not only had the ‘hider’ conveniently forgotten to tell the ‘seeker’ what was going on, sneaking off while he was distracted by talking to Gwen; he was a little old to play hide and seek these days. Although, apparently, a slight age issue was not enough to stop the Crown Prince of Camelot.
Merlin was not entirely sure why Arthur had run off. Everything had been fine: the Prince was in one of his giggly and chatty drunk moods, not morose or angry or flirtatious, for which his manservant had been grateful. Merlin had been hauling the drunken royal ass back to his quarters, rolling his eyes at Arthur’s terrible drunken jokes and making sure he did not fall over too many times, when they had bumped into Gwen. She had asked a question about something that had seemed very important at the time and that was when everything had gone wrong.
It should have been fine. Merlin had propped the inebriated heir to the throne, who had been hopelessly unable to support his own weight, against a wall. Arthur had been quite happy giggling and making comments about Merlin and Gwen that he probably thought were subtle but had really been more akin to a brick to the head. Then, somewhere in the middle of the conversation, he had fallen silent and Merlin, idiot that he was - not that he would ever let Arthur hear him admit that - had merely thanked God that he was quiet for a moment. It was only minutes later, when Gwen had asked, quite innocently, where he had got to, that Merlin had turned to discover the empty corridor.
How Arthur had been able to move at all, let alone quietly enough not to be noticed, was beyond him. But he had and Merlin had not really been able to do anything more than swear and run after him, leaving a rather amused Gwen behind.
And so had begun the great game of hide and seek that Merlin would really rather not be taking part in. They were playing by Arthur’s rules, whatever those were, and he was beyond fed up with the situation. The young warlock was not wholly sure how long he had been looking for the wayward Prince, but he was fairly certain he had climbed every staircase in the castle twice. He had checked the courtyard, the Prince’s chambers, the hall and even the strange alcove by the door to the armoury where he sometimes cleaned Arthur’s sword. The heir apparent was nowhere to be found, and it was completely unfair; Arthur had had an entire lifetime to memorise all the nooks and crannies of the castle, while Merlin had only had a few months.
Merlin was debating the benefits of just leaving the drunken fool lost and taking whatever punishment Arthur meted out in the morning when he passed the throne room and caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.
Arthur was slumped across his throne haphazardly; one of his legs was flung over the arm, the other still - just - touching the floor. Moonlight was streaming through one of the high windows, drenching the Prince with silver light, turning his red tunic a strange purple colour and making his skin gleam.
Merlin stood in the doorway watching the Prince, held by the curious spell of silence that pervaded the room. Arthur’s head was flung back to stare at the ceiling and Merlin’s eyes traced the silvery line of his throat upwards in a long curve.
This was not the same Arthur he had left against the wall of the corridor and misplaced. Where the earlier Arthur had been all movement: lurching here, smacking Merlin on the back and bellowing lewd drinking songs as he quaffed along with an invisible mug of ale; this Arthur was perfect stillness and silence. He was almost like a painting, sitting there and staring upwards endlessly. Merlin did not want to interrupt, but he took a step forward anyway, drawn by some unseen force.
As soon as he took the step, Merlin regretted it. The soft sound of his shoe touching the stone seemed as loud as the clash of sword on sword in the silence. He winced, knowing Arthur must have heard him. But the momentary heart-thudding alarm of the moment was abated as Arthur continued to stare upwards, not moving at all.
After a second in which Merlin had to remind himself to breathe, Arthur finally acknowledged his presence. The Prince still did not tear his eyes away from the ceiling, but opened his mouth to speak softly. His words echoed round the empty chamber.
“I remember, when I was little, I always wanted to swing on the chandeliers in here,” said Arthur, still staring up at them. Merlin risked another few steps forward, encouraged. “I wondered what my father would do if - during some important meeting - I just swung across on them.” That raised a chuckle from his manservant and Arthur turned to look at him. He was smiling sadly and gestured for Merlin to come closer, which he did willingly.
“I just wanted to know what it would feel like… I always wondered, but I never got ‘round to doing it.” He paused and looked back upwards. Merlin followed his gaze to the huge rings that hung from the ceiling but stayed silent, unwilling to interrupt this moment of introspection. He could picture Arthur, a tiny beautiful blond child, staring up at the chandeliers as wistfully as he was now.
“I was always doing things like that - just to see if I could, to see what they felt like,” Arthur said with a rueful smirk at his own innocence. “When I was five, I went for a walk on the ramparts,” he paused before clarifying, “the walls that is, not the walkways. The woman who was supposed to take care of me was terrified when she realised where I had gone. She found me standing there just looking down, and I remember her screaming, but I wasn’t scared. I just remember wondering what it would be like to fall, or fly like a bird, and the feeling of the wind rushing past me.”
Merlin took another step forward and almost put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but he hesitated and withdrew before they touched. The Prince granted him a small smile before turning back to the ceiling.
“I think you might be a little big to swing on them now,” he said lightly and Arthur sighed. Merlin had the strange feeling that he had said something wrong.
“It doesn’t make the idea any less appealing,” the Prince said, turning to gaze at Merlin with the same thoughtful expression he had used on the light fixtures.
“What?” Merlin asked uncomfortably, but Arthur did not answer. He was still scanning every inch of Merlin’s face with an intensity which made the young warlock squirm. “Arthur?”
“Don’t you ever want to do something outrageous to see if it feels as good as you think it will?” Merlin stared back at him in the silence that followed the question. He was fairly certain that there was more to Arthur’s words than a simple question and he knew instinctively that answering it - correctly or incorrectly - would change everything. He felt that same hushed reverence that had captured him when he first entered the room return, and he did not want to break the moment. Instead he simply looked back at Arthur who sat, stark and silver in the moonlight, more peaceful than he had ever seen him before.
Arthur swung to his feet abruptly. He stood in one smooth movement and, before Merlin had the time to blink, the distance between them disappeared.
“Did you ever stand on the edge of a cliff, or the branch of a tree and have an urge to jump so strong that you had to force yourself not to, just because you wanted to know how exhilarating it would be to fall?”
Merlin stayed silent, watching the Prince watch him, searching for an answer on his face.
“Do you know what it’s like when everything in your head is suddenly clear and there’s only one thing that you want to do?” Arthur asked as he took a small step forward so they were standing toe to toe. Merlin found he could not focus on anything other than the Prince’s eyes and the soft touch of his wine-scented breath on his face.
“Do you understand what it is to not be afraid although you know you should be?”
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper but he knew that Arthur must have heard it. They were so close now that Merlin was surprised Arthur could hear his thoughts flashing through his brain. The entire world was still except for them and it was as though everything else was falling away.
“Good.”
Suddenly Arthur was moving, surging towards him. Everything that had been pent up while they were talking was released abruptly and focussed solely on Merlin. One of Arthur’s hands was at the back of his neck, pulling him roughly forwards before fingers stretched upwards to tangle in his hair. The other arm wrapped around Merlin’s shoulder as their lips collided.
The moment was pure exhilaration and Merlin found himself reacting without thinking. He was reaching out to grab the front of the Prince’s tunic and pulling him as close as he could. As Arthur attacked him, he attacked back with hands and lips and teeth and tongue. Their whole bodies collided with each other, until they both pulled back at the same time, arms still looped around each other, gasping for air.
It felt like floating for a moment, as though his feet had somehow left the ground while they had been connected and he was now in mid air, floating or falling or flying. Every breath of air that rushed into his lungs made a shock run through him. It had actually happened. The warm heavy feeling of Arthur’s arms around him, Arthur’s hands pressed tightly against him, made his entire body fizz with movement that he could barely contain.
“Still want to swing on the chandelier?” Merlin asked with a grin, when he had found the ground beneath his feet again. He wanted to laugh, and run and jump until the air burnt in his lungs and his feet gave out beneath him. The rich flavour of the royal wine was still in his mouth and he wondered if it were possible to get drunk off the fumes from someone else, except it did not feel like he was drunk. Instead of the fuzziness of alcohol, everything felt crisper and clearer. Every noise, every colour, every touch was more immediate. Arthur chuckled and Merlin could feel the laughter vibrating through him as if it was his own.
“I feel like I just did…” the Prince said in a low whisper that Merlin could hear with every inch of his body.
Then Arthur pulled back and began to walk out of the room, leaving Merlin staring after him. He paused in the doorway and leant against the stone wall; the pensive look from earlier was replaced once more with his usual drunken mixture of amusement and disdain. “What are you waiting for, Merlin?” he asked officiously, but there was an undercurrent of affection there which made the warlock smile. “Escort me to my chambers… I am drunk, after all and you’ve done a terrible job of it so far.”
“Yes Arthur,” his manservant said with a grin, hurrying over to him. As Merlin reached him, the Prince draped an arm across his shoulders and leant into him heavily, although Merlin was no longer sure he was that drunk.
“Will you be requiring anything else?” he asked politely as they made their way down the corridor, a clumsy four-legged creature that only seemed half in control of its own actions.
“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Arthur drawled. He turned his face into the curve of Merlin’s neck so that his manservant could feel his smile against his skin. “Unless you have somewhere else you’d rather be…”
“Can’t think of anywhere,” Merlin said with complete honesty.
“Good.”
---