Merlin Fanfiction 'Of Fools And Kings' Ch.2
Pairing: Merlin and Arthur
Rating: PG (eventually probably NC-17, ratings will be given seperately for each chapter)
Spoilers: up until episode 4 of season 1
Wordcount: ~2800
Discl.: The television series 'Merlin' was developed by Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps and runs on BBC One. I do not own any part whatsoever of it. This is purely done for my own and my reader's entertainment and I do mean no offence with it.
General notes: The whole story deal with the relationship of Merlin and Arthur - no surprise there. I will follow the storyline of season 1, maybe also start of season two for some time, but will deviate from it sooner or later. Some mix up of episode order might also come up.... <.< I hope it won't be all too confusing. A real summary will come whenever I'm not lazy anymore or start knowing what on earth i'm actually writing about ^^'
Timeframe: chapter 2 takes place during and directly after episode 4
Comments and critics are always welcome! :)
2
Guiding Lights
Everything was dark. A thick, oily blackness, like a heavy, tangible mist. Heat and pain were the only other things Merlin could recognize. Every one of his joints as if bent against its shape, his skin bathed in scalding water. He struggled, groaned, but the hold of the blackness was unrelenting. A strange smell reached his nostrils and burrowed itself into them, receding and advancing in waves of nausea. A sickening, sweet tang like an ocean of dead, decaying flowers. He felt like retching, but at the same time his throat was constricted and dry.
But there was something there, far away, pulling at him, calling for him. Something he should remember, something important. Merlin knew he needed to get closer to it. He struggled and fought, feeling useless in his frail body until he found within it the brightness that was his magic. He drew on it, called it up instinctively. He felt it lap at him unsteadily before he remembered that there were words to call it by. His throat was raw and his voice rasped hollowly inside his own head, but it worked nonetheless. His power surged, embraced him and eased some of his pain. But he still could not move, and he felt how the power drew on his reserves harshly, how it was consuming the energy of his very life.
It shouldn't do that, it had never done that and without remembering what had happened to him, Merlin realized that he was in grave danger. There was panic for a moment, for there was nothing, nothing whatsoever in his memory that could have given him a clue as to what was wrong, but then he felt that pull again, that strange sensation of being needed somewhere.
He willed himself toward it, not sure how he was moving, or what part of him, but he reached it and suddenly he could see.
It was Arthur. Arthur walking through some kind of a cave, following someone else. Merlin was startled by the menacing intend of the figure before the prince, cloaked from the warlock's probing vision in a magic shadow.
Why did Arthur follow it? Did he not realize the danger he was in? Merlin called out, but the prince did not stop or even slow. As if blind he went on and Merlin could do nothing at all as Arthur stepped forward onto a slap of rock reaching out precariously over a yawning drop.
What was that blockhead doing! Why would he endanger himself like this? But in the same moment Merlin felt it. Arthur was seeking something important. Something to help Merlin.
But the warlock's momentary feeling of joy at having Arthur care for him that much turned into horror as the dark figure behind the prince raised its voice in incantation and the rock crumbled beneath Arthur's feet. In the last second he leapt forward and managed to grab onto a narrow ledge on the opposite side of the chasm.
Merlin wanted to scream in frustration at being able only to watch as a huge spider crept from a crevice a few metres away and Arthur only barely managed to save himself from it. He flung it into the darkness beneath him but soon that darkness came up to surround him in turn, as the last flickering torchlight vanished together with the shadowy figure that had led him into this trap.
Blackness. And Merlin trembled.
He hated it. It was too dark. He knew Arthur was strong, Arthur might just be able to still save himself, if he could just see, see where he needed to go!
Merlin felt for his power. There wasn't much left and it was eating away at his own strength constantly. If he used it up, he would perish slowly and painfully, he realized that. But inside himself he found an even stronger resolve than his own will to live. Suddenly he realized what the dragon had talked about when he had spoken of destiny.
Merlin would not let Arthur die.
From somewhere in the depth of his power came the words of a spell that he hadn't even known existed. He called forth a sphere of eerie, clear light, formed carefully in the palm of his hand, and sent it out through the connection that had led him here, to Arthur, in the first place.
It was a connection that was uniquely theirs. Their bond. Their destiny.
Arthur cursed silently to himself, because he didn't think he had enough breath left to curse aloud and hold onto the ledge at the same time. His strength was fading, his fingers slipping, and deep down below he could hear faint, scrabbling noises that didn't bode well. From somewhere far above came the faintest light, a feeble promise of a way out. But with the dangerous climb toward it in complete darkness, that light could as well have come from a different realm. It was impossible to reach.
But in that moment he felt some kind of presence, like a tickle at the back of his neck and suddenly he was able to discern the texture of the stone wall before him as it was bathed in a cold, blue light. Arthur looked around to find a clear sphere floating towards him, tatters of illumination dancing and swirling at its centre. For a moment he thought it was just another trick of the witch that had lured him here and he screamed at it, challenged it. But as it came ever closer and closer, he realized that it was not here to harm him. It felt familiar somehow, calming, encouraging. The light passed his head closely and then rose further, illuminating the way up, the way out.
It was not only a convenient beacon, it was like hope itself.
As beneath Arthur an army of spiders ascended the wall in terrifying speed, he pulled himself up and started to climb. He searched for the patch of Mortaeus flowers he knew to be somewhere above him and made for their direction. The sphere to his left flickered and hovered unsteadily, twitching up and down as if telling him to leave it be, to just move, go, climb, but he knew he could not leave without that flower. All his determination, his disobedience, the whole journey here would have been for nothing if he could not obtain what he had come here for in the first place.
And he made it. He took one of the Mortaeus and he climbed. Only barely escaping the swarm of spiders he finally reached the surface panting and drenched in sweat, but didn't allowed himself even one break. He ran off and found his horse, untethered but still close to where he had left it. Jumping onto it he pushed it into the fastest gallop it would be able to manage without breaking its legs.
By morning he was back in Camelot.
Back to meet the wrath of his father.
He had expected it. Since he was a child he had been aware of how unkindly Uther took to disobedience. Still, he had not expected the king to go as far as to condemn Merlin to death just for the sake of teaching his son a lesson.
Unable to believe his eyes, Arthur could do nothing but stare thunderstruck as his father crumbled the Mortaeus in his gloved hand and let it fall to the stone floor. The prince was not sure what he would have done if eventually Guinevere hadn't been there to take the flower he had reclaimed from the dust, to take it from him and smuggle it out of his cell.
Everything would have been for nothing. Merlin would have died.
The thought was much more disturbing than it should have been.
His father had made it clear to him that people dying for their prince's sake was something he would have to learn to live with and as little as Arthur liked the idea he understood its sense. Still, it had felt impossible to just shrug it off like that when Merlin had been dying because of him.
Arthur tried to convince himself that he would have gone to the same lengths for anybody. He would have taken on the same perils for any servant, for any knight, indeed for any of the people that would be his people one day.
Yes, of course he would have. Without a doubt.
Definitely.
Well, probably.
Arthur decided not to think further about it.
“The stables?”
“Cleaned out.”
“Oakburn's bad leg?”
“Gwen's father had a look at it. He changed the iron and the horse seems better now”
“My armor?”
“Gleaming.”
Arthur looked around his very tidy chambers trying to think of something more, but unless he would simply have Merlin do all the tasks from the start over, there wasn't anything left he could demand of him.
“Well, it seems the near-death experience did wonders for your working morale. Maybe you should drink poison more often.”
Merlin grinned and leaned against the table, watching as Arthur browsed through a number of documents.
“Only if you'll go get me the antidote again.”
“Don't count on it. There are limits even to my kindness.”
Merlin laughed then looked away.
“But really, why did you do it?”
Arthur sighed and leaned back in his chair. Merlin had been asking him this already three times over the last two days and his usual answer - 'a good servant is hard to come by' - was getting a bit old. Also, the seriousness with which Merlin was asking made it hard to just tell him to go away and do something more useful than nagging his lord.
It was a very uncomfortable question for Arthur. One possible answer would have been that Merlin was important to him. But he couldn't say that out loud. It would sound strange and could easily be misunderstood. It would sound needy, for one thing and the son of a king really wouldn't want to give anybody the impression that he was in any way dependent on a servant. Though secretly, Arthur had in just over a month come to rely surprisingly much on Merlin. It wasn't his skills as servant. Those were slightly above mediocre but nothing to brag about. It was more about who he was as a person. It was his standing up to Arthur and while Merlin had of course no chance to oppose the prince on a physical level, verbally he could give as well as he took.
Arthur hadn't even realized before how boring all his other servants had been. Them and their constant 'yes, sire', 'of course, sire', 'as you wish, my lord'. In a way they had just been a slightly annoying, buzzing sound, always somewhere just beneath his direct attention. They had gotten the dirt out of his way but not been interesting in any way otherwise. Now Merlin on the other hand... Teasing him and sometimes even the being teased back by him was becoming something of a hobby of Arthur's lately. Being confined to a cell with nothing but time to think on his hands, the prince had realized he would indeed go to great lengths to save any one of the people that would be his some day. But it would not have been as far as he had gone in this case. It was a disturbing realization.
And Merlin definitely didn't need to know about it.
Instead Arthur evaded, “You did save my life, too. Two times.”
Admitting that was still a little annoying for him and he did his best to sound unimpressed. Lucky was he not to know the true number, which was probably rather closer to six times that Merlin had at least saved his prince from some kind of harm, if not outright saved his life.
“I just felt like returning the favour,” Arthur said nonchalantly, smiling at Merlin in an unusually friendly way but finding his efforts wasted as the young man before him didn't even look up. Merlin just nodded slowly, as if contemplating that last statement very thoroughly.
“Anyway, it wasn't such a big deal. I've done more dangerous things,” Arthur added, only slightly downplaying the adventure he had been through. Hoping the discussion thus closed, he was about to turn his attention back to his documents, when Merlin seemed determined to make the most of his in Arthur's opinion only natural talent right then: being annoying.
“I heard differently,” he said, eyes back on Arthur who returned the look with a very annoyed frown.
“Have you,” the prince said, leaning back once more, “What exactly have you heard then, and from whom?”
“Oh, just... you know. Gaius telling me about the quaint Forests of Balor and its not-so-quaint creatures. Or that the king was furious that you left against his orders and you ended up in the dungeons. Or that when you were in trouble you felt as if someone was helping you...”
“Who told you that?” Arthur snapped.
“No one,” Merlin shook his head as Arthur glared at him, “I just kind of... overheard it. Nothing bad. She said you were really brave and that you didn't even brag about it when you came back...”
“Morgana! That prattling... Can I not speak one word to that woman without it being all over the place the very next day.”
“She was just talking with Gwen. She didn't tell anybody else! They didn't even know I was there to hear it.”
Arthur's expression changed abruptly from annoyance to curiosity.
“Why were you there?”
“I... well. I wanted to pick Gwen up to...”
Arthur's eyebrows rose in amusement.
“Gwen! Oh Merlin you fool. You really are in love with her! I thought it was just me making that up to keep them from burning you at the stake.”
“No I am not!” Merlin said vehemently and sputtered on, “There was a misunderstanding I wanted to set straight. When she kissed me but didn't mean it that way but I said it was very fine but I think she understood it wrong and...”
He stopped as Arthur began to laugh.
“Guinevere kissed you! Kissed you! Are you sure you weren't still unconscious when you had that dream? Why would she kiss you! Did you threaten her with your mop?”
“No I didn' - what? No! She kissed me because she thought I had died and was very happy when I hadn't. We're good friends, nothing mo- stop grinning at me like that!”
And Arthur did, if only because he was laughing again.
Merlin stood with his arms crossed over his chest, eventually shaking his head slowly as he waiting for Arthur to calm down. Any time the prince looked back up at his servant though, a new wave of laughter broke free of him.
“Now you're just teasing me, aren't you?” Merlin asked after his initial boyish and embarrassed smile had faded and Arthur still just barely even tried to calm himself.
“Yes you are.”
Merlin rolled his eyes and turned away. He walked toward the door, his hands thrown up.
“Fine. I'm going to... to pick flowers for Gwen or whatever you imagine I'd be doing.”
Arthur still hadn't been served his night meal, but seeing how he had finally distracted Merlin enough from the theme at hand to get around actually talking about it, the prince said nothing as his servant left very rudely without another question after his lord's wishes.
Arthur chuckled some more for good measure after the door had closed behind Merlin and then let out a relieved sigh. At least he had gotten around answering Merlin's questions. They were touching on a whole row of subjects the prince wasn't sure how to explain to himself, let alone to his manservant. The relationship to his father for example. Or magic, in spherical or any other form. Or the fact that now that he had time to think about it, Arthur realized that the sense of familiarity he had felt in the proximity of that light, was somehow distantly similar to what he sometimes felt when he was with Merlin.
It was a sense of ease, of acceptance. The sense of looking at a picture one has seen many times before, but only now realizing its true beauty.
It was also completely ridiculous.
Arthur decided in that moment that he had probably hit his head at some point without noticing, because he was clearly imagining things.
He shook his head quite vehemently. Then he returned to his documents, determined to go through them without wasting any more of his energy on preposterous ideas like that.
~~~