The Voice of an Angel (Merlin Flashfic Secrets Challenge)
My response to the merlin_flashfic Secrets Challenge. Since that challenge has ended, I figured I'd post it over here just for completeness' sake. Beware: it's totally dumb. XD
It’s early morning when Merlin first hears it. He is running Gaius’ rounds for him, half wondering if any of the recipients of the physician’s medicines will even be up to receive them when he is assaulted by the most amazing thing he has ever heard.
A voice drifts through the hall, a voice like no other in Camelot or, indeed, anywhere else. It is a perfect tenor, strong and clear, muffled only by the distance between the source and Merlin. There is no music to accompany it, but it needs none - indeed, it shines like a light in the dark all on its own, weaving a spell that rivals (and perhaps surpasses) any Merlin could hope to conjure.
He stops dead in the middle of the corridor to listen. He forgets himself for a moment, so wrapped up in the music of that one voice that he might have almost forgotten to breathe.
Then it stops, the song ending and the world seems to lose some of its color, some of its clarity. Merlin finds himself breathing a sigh of regret at the loss, before he realizes that he’s been standing idle for far too long. He hurries on his way.
The sound of a door opening at the far end of the corridor behind him causes him to glance back; he nearly stumbles and crashes into the wall as he sees the golden head of Arthur Pendragon emerge from what he had thought was an unused room on this floor. (In fact, most of these rooms are unused, reserved for important visitors of state and such. But there are no visitors at this time of year, and Arthur’s chambers are nowhere near here.)
“Arthur?”
Arthur’s head swings round so fast that he must have made himself dizzy. “Merlin!” he exclaims, and the alarm on his face quickly melts into annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
Merlin holds up the numerous vials he’s been asked to deliver. “Gaius asked me to deliver these. This is a shortcut.” He frowns a bit, brows knotting. “What are you doing here?” At the look on the prince’s face, he quickly adds a quiet, “If I may ask…”
“You may not,” is Arthur’s reply, and the prince turns, walking briskly down the hall and back towards the section of the castle that houses his rooms. “And I expect to see you in my chambers within twenty minutes. I have a good number of muddy boots that need a thorough cleaning.”
It isn’t until Arthur is long gone and Merlin has delivered his second vial that he stops again, still in the middle of the hallway, and realizes that it was Arthur - it must have been. That great prat Arthur, with the singing voice of an angel.
*
The prince is not pleased when Merlin confronts him about this. “I most certainly was not singing in some abandoned room,” he insists, frown deep as he sits at the long table in his room and scowls at his manservant. “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? You’re an idiot, Merlin.”
“I know it was you,” the warlock counters, but Arthur will have none of it. He blocks all of Merlin’s inquiries with a closed expression and a tight voice; it’s hard to imagine that same voice was the one that held Merlin so entranced only this morning. But he can hear it - that tenor is there, below Arthur’s exasperated words, and Merlin is more sure than ever of what - and who - he heard.
Finally he sets about cleaning Arthur’s aforementioned boots. Three hours later he is sitting out on the balcony and scraping at mud more stubborn than even Arthur, when a shadow falls over him. Merlin turns and looks up from where he’s sitting to see Arthur blocking the sun. His features are dark and hard to read, backlit as he is. His hair glows golden around his head like a halo.
“What if it was me?” he asks.
Merlin is momentarily confused - what’s Arthur talking about? But then he recalls their conversation earlier. He can’t help the smile that begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “What do you mean?”
Arthur shuffles a bit and leans against the open doorway. “Singing, you idiot. What would you do if it was me?”
Merlin does his best to look innocently up at the prince - after all, it’s not as though singing is a crime, is it? “Nothing,” he says simply, shrugging. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. It was really quite beautiful.”
For a split second, Merlin thinks he might have seen Arthur’s expression turn to one of honest pride, but then, his face is still in shadow. It could have been a mistake, a trick of the light.
“I’d like to hear more,” Merlin ventures after a moment of silence. Because he really would - for all Arthur is annoying and will probably preen under more praise, his voice was so enchanting that Merlin thinks it would make the afternoon so much more pleasant, if he could hear it again.
But Arthur sneers and prods Merlin with the toe of his boot before swinging himself back into his chambers. “You wish. I never said it was me. You’re such an idiot.”
Merlin goes back to cleaning, but he can’t help the smile that remains on his lips. Later, when he’s finished and it’s nearly time for him to get to the Great Hall to attend the royal family at dinner, he grins widely back at Arthur over his shoulder as he opens the door just enough to slip out ahead of him. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
Merlin is, after all, skilled at keeping secrets.
[ Link to the original post here. ]
It’s early morning when Merlin first hears it. He is running Gaius’ rounds for him, half wondering if any of the recipients of the physician’s medicines will even be up to receive them when he is assaulted by the most amazing thing he has ever heard.
A voice drifts through the hall, a voice like no other in Camelot or, indeed, anywhere else. It is a perfect tenor, strong and clear, muffled only by the distance between the source and Merlin. There is no music to accompany it, but it needs none - indeed, it shines like a light in the dark all on its own, weaving a spell that rivals (and perhaps surpasses) any Merlin could hope to conjure.
He stops dead in the middle of the corridor to listen. He forgets himself for a moment, so wrapped up in the music of that one voice that he might have almost forgotten to breathe.
Then it stops, the song ending and the world seems to lose some of its color, some of its clarity. Merlin finds himself breathing a sigh of regret at the loss, before he realizes that he’s been standing idle for far too long. He hurries on his way.
The sound of a door opening at the far end of the corridor behind him causes him to glance back; he nearly stumbles and crashes into the wall as he sees the golden head of Arthur Pendragon emerge from what he had thought was an unused room on this floor. (In fact, most of these rooms are unused, reserved for important visitors of state and such. But there are no visitors at this time of year, and Arthur’s chambers are nowhere near here.)
“Arthur?”
Arthur’s head swings round so fast that he must have made himself dizzy. “Merlin!” he exclaims, and the alarm on his face quickly melts into annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
Merlin holds up the numerous vials he’s been asked to deliver. “Gaius asked me to deliver these. This is a shortcut.” He frowns a bit, brows knotting. “What are you doing here?” At the look on the prince’s face, he quickly adds a quiet, “If I may ask…”
“You may not,” is Arthur’s reply, and the prince turns, walking briskly down the hall and back towards the section of the castle that houses his rooms. “And I expect to see you in my chambers within twenty minutes. I have a good number of muddy boots that need a thorough cleaning.”
It isn’t until Arthur is long gone and Merlin has delivered his second vial that he stops again, still in the middle of the hallway, and realizes that it was Arthur - it must have been. That great prat Arthur, with the singing voice of an angel.
*
The prince is not pleased when Merlin confronts him about this. “I most certainly was not singing in some abandoned room,” he insists, frown deep as he sits at the long table in his room and scowls at his manservant. “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? You’re an idiot, Merlin.”
“I know it was you,” the warlock counters, but Arthur will have none of it. He blocks all of Merlin’s inquiries with a closed expression and a tight voice; it’s hard to imagine that same voice was the one that held Merlin so entranced only this morning. But he can hear it - that tenor is there, below Arthur’s exasperated words, and Merlin is more sure than ever of what - and who - he heard.
Finally he sets about cleaning Arthur’s aforementioned boots. Three hours later he is sitting out on the balcony and scraping at mud more stubborn than even Arthur, when a shadow falls over him. Merlin turns and looks up from where he’s sitting to see Arthur blocking the sun. His features are dark and hard to read, backlit as he is. His hair glows golden around his head like a halo.
“What if it was me?” he asks.
Merlin is momentarily confused - what’s Arthur talking about? But then he recalls their conversation earlier. He can’t help the smile that begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “What do you mean?”
Arthur shuffles a bit and leans against the open doorway. “Singing, you idiot. What would you do if it was me?”
Merlin does his best to look innocently up at the prince - after all, it’s not as though singing is a crime, is it? “Nothing,” he says simply, shrugging. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. It was really quite beautiful.”
For a split second, Merlin thinks he might have seen Arthur’s expression turn to one of honest pride, but then, his face is still in shadow. It could have been a mistake, a trick of the light.
“I’d like to hear more,” Merlin ventures after a moment of silence. Because he really would - for all Arthur is annoying and will probably preen under more praise, his voice was so enchanting that Merlin thinks it would make the afternoon so much more pleasant, if he could hear it again.
But Arthur sneers and prods Merlin with the toe of his boot before swinging himself back into his chambers. “You wish. I never said it was me. You’re such an idiot.”
Merlin goes back to cleaning, but he can’t help the smile that remains on his lips. Later, when he’s finished and it’s nearly time for him to get to the Great Hall to attend the royal family at dinner, he grins widely back at Arthur over his shoulder as he opens the door just enough to slip out ahead of him. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
Merlin is, after all, skilled at keeping secrets.
[ Link to the original post here. ]