FIC: His Weakness (Merlin: Merlin/Arthur, PG-13) - HCB
So, my first hc_bingo fic!
TITLE: His Weakness
FANDOM: Merlin
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur (est.)
PROMPT: dungeons
MEDIUM: fiction
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: implied violence
SUMMARY: If he knew Merlin's value, the boy would be dead.
WORDS: 726
The cell door opened, a shaft of light spilling down the stone-cut steps. Merlin squinted into the light and saw Arthur's silhouette in the doorway.
"I don't have all day."
Slowly, Merlin staggered to his feet, trying not to waver. Three days without food had taken their toll and the rainfall had been pitiful for so late in spring. Each step was a jar to his ribs and his shirt was stuck to his body in ribbons, piercing lines of fire across his spine.
Arthur said nothing, merely turned his back and set off down the corridor, refusing to look at Merlin. Trying to hide his limp, Merlin set after him, up out of the dungeons and through the corridors. Courtiers and servants watched him closely and whispered, but Merlin was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and not collapsing on the stairs up to Arthur's rooms.
It had been so stupid. He'd been in the clearing, gathering herbs for Gaius. He'd heard Uther and Arthur arguing from several feet away and had moved closer to find out what the King had found fault with now - for an unhappy prince made for an unhappy Merlin. And then, of course, he'd fallen through the bush and right in front of Uther's horse, causing the stupid animal to rear and nearly unseat its royal rider.
All it had taken was one defence by Arthur and Uther had sent for the guards immediately, ordering the dungeon and deprivation. Merlin hadn't protested, hadn't even looked at Arthur - for even a simple thing, one word whispered in his prince's direction, could bring them both to their knees.
Arthur pushed open the door to his chambers and Merlin stumbled over the threshold, letting the doors fall closed behind him. The last of his strength deserted him and he fell towards the floor, strong arms catching him and drawing him close.
"I have you, Merlin."
Merlin shivered in his arms, exhausted and beyond care. The rim of a goblet was pressed to his lips and he sipped at the water, his stomach threatening to revolt at the life-giving liquid. Almost cruelly, Arthur took away the goblet and then carefully hoisted Merlin into his arms, carrying him to where a steaming bath stood by the fire.
"If we soak the cloth, it will come away easier," he murmured, and Merlin nodded, already half-asleep.
Between the raw moments of agony and Arthur's patient instructions, Merlin drifted. The hot water unwound his abused muscles and soothed the bruises, and he caught the scent of chicken stew and fresh bread, both waiting for him on the kitchen table.
"Your father..."
Arthur's fingers tensed on his shoulder. "I didn't say anything. He got bored, eventually. He won't look for you here."
Merlin nodded, satisfied by the simple words. He was glad Arthur had been the one on the outside - Merlin didn't think he could have suffered silently while Arthur was beaten beneath the castle.
"Out. You'll freeze."
With clumsy exhaustion, Merlin allowed himself to be manhandled out of the tub and dried off. He stumbled, half-asleep, to Arthur's bed, where Arthur leaned him carefully against his shoulder and applied clean bandages over some of Gaius' foul-smelling salves.
When Arthur stepped away, Merlin moaned at the loss of contact, but soon Arthur was kneeling between his legs, pressing the bowl of chicken stew into his hands.
"Take small sips," he said, his voice shaking, and for the first time, Merlin looked up and really saw what this had done to him. Pressing his forehead against Arthur's, he sighed.
"It wasn't your fault."
"I left you there." The voice was bitter, recriminating, and Merlin smiled a little at what a wonderful King that man would be.
"You did what was right, Arthur."
A pause then, and a huff of breath. Merlin's sleepy smile widened. "Drink up."
Merlin managed a quarter of the stew before his loose grasp threatened to spill it on the floor. Arthur took the bowl from his hands and pressed him gently into bed.
"Sleep. I'll stand watch."
"He won't come here," Merlin said drowsily. "Come to bed."
As his eyes fell closed, he felt Arthur press close to him, a kiss against his cheek. One day, it would be a different.
One day, he would be Arthur's strength and not his weakness.
TITLE: His Weakness
FANDOM: Merlin
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur (est.)
PROMPT: dungeons
MEDIUM: fiction
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: implied violence
SUMMARY: If he knew Merlin's value, the boy would be dead.
WORDS: 726
The cell door opened, a shaft of light spilling down the stone-cut steps. Merlin squinted into the light and saw Arthur's silhouette in the doorway.
"I don't have all day."
Slowly, Merlin staggered to his feet, trying not to waver. Three days without food had taken their toll and the rainfall had been pitiful for so late in spring. Each step was a jar to his ribs and his shirt was stuck to his body in ribbons, piercing lines of fire across his spine.
Arthur said nothing, merely turned his back and set off down the corridor, refusing to look at Merlin. Trying to hide his limp, Merlin set after him, up out of the dungeons and through the corridors. Courtiers and servants watched him closely and whispered, but Merlin was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and not collapsing on the stairs up to Arthur's rooms.
It had been so stupid. He'd been in the clearing, gathering herbs for Gaius. He'd heard Uther and Arthur arguing from several feet away and had moved closer to find out what the King had found fault with now - for an unhappy prince made for an unhappy Merlin. And then, of course, he'd fallen through the bush and right in front of Uther's horse, causing the stupid animal to rear and nearly unseat its royal rider.
All it had taken was one defence by Arthur and Uther had sent for the guards immediately, ordering the dungeon and deprivation. Merlin hadn't protested, hadn't even looked at Arthur - for even a simple thing, one word whispered in his prince's direction, could bring them both to their knees.
Arthur pushed open the door to his chambers and Merlin stumbled over the threshold, letting the doors fall closed behind him. The last of his strength deserted him and he fell towards the floor, strong arms catching him and drawing him close.
"I have you, Merlin."
Merlin shivered in his arms, exhausted and beyond care. The rim of a goblet was pressed to his lips and he sipped at the water, his stomach threatening to revolt at the life-giving liquid. Almost cruelly, Arthur took away the goblet and then carefully hoisted Merlin into his arms, carrying him to where a steaming bath stood by the fire.
"If we soak the cloth, it will come away easier," he murmured, and Merlin nodded, already half-asleep.
Between the raw moments of agony and Arthur's patient instructions, Merlin drifted. The hot water unwound his abused muscles and soothed the bruises, and he caught the scent of chicken stew and fresh bread, both waiting for him on the kitchen table.
"Your father..."
Arthur's fingers tensed on his shoulder. "I didn't say anything. He got bored, eventually. He won't look for you here."
Merlin nodded, satisfied by the simple words. He was glad Arthur had been the one on the outside - Merlin didn't think he could have suffered silently while Arthur was beaten beneath the castle.
"Out. You'll freeze."
With clumsy exhaustion, Merlin allowed himself to be manhandled out of the tub and dried off. He stumbled, half-asleep, to Arthur's bed, where Arthur leaned him carefully against his shoulder and applied clean bandages over some of Gaius' foul-smelling salves.
When Arthur stepped away, Merlin moaned at the loss of contact, but soon Arthur was kneeling between his legs, pressing the bowl of chicken stew into his hands.
"Take small sips," he said, his voice shaking, and for the first time, Merlin looked up and really saw what this had done to him. Pressing his forehead against Arthur's, he sighed.
"It wasn't your fault."
"I left you there." The voice was bitter, recriminating, and Merlin smiled a little at what a wonderful King that man would be.
"You did what was right, Arthur."
A pause then, and a huff of breath. Merlin's sleepy smile widened. "Drink up."
Merlin managed a quarter of the stew before his loose grasp threatened to spill it on the floor. Arthur took the bowl from his hands and pressed him gently into bed.
"Sleep. I'll stand watch."
"He won't come here," Merlin said drowsily. "Come to bed."
As his eyes fell closed, he felt Arthur press close to him, a kiss against his cheek. One day, it would be a different.
One day, he would be Arthur's strength and not his weakness.