Kink Me! #2
Kink Me! #2 Closed to new prompts Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #2!
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And yes, of course he was ensorcelled, because he can’t stop thinking about Merlin, and three years ago life had expanded so that Merlin could fit into it and now Arthur’s drowning in those empty spaces, so yes, Arthur was ensorcelled, is ensorcelled.
He says: “Yes.”
Uther looks satisfied and it’s amusing, really, because Uther is too busy searching for the deception in magic to see the deception in Arthur’s eyes.
“There will be those who do not believe you,” Uther says, picking up his thread in this beautifully planned drama. “Some, even, here in court. And so, Arthur, you must prove yourself, as you will have to prove yourself as king a thousand times over. Now,” he says, and finally he’s moving away from Arthur, back to a throne that in this very moment Arthur despises, “how will you do that, son?” His voice is warm, and he’s bright on his throne, the very picture of fairness.
Arthur has worn his honor like a fine cloak from the moment he was knighted, kneeling here on this very floor six years ago. He’d looked up to see Uther smiling proudly down at him, and it was like having the sun and the moon and the stars all within reach. But now Uther’s face is tight with hard anger and the honor doesn’t matter, does it, because honor wasn’t enough to save Merlin.
And so it doesn’t matter that he kneels, doesn’t matter that he announces to the entire court that he will pledge his life, as his father has before him, to driving away this plague called magic. That under his lead, Camelot will finally free herself from magic’s poison, that under his lead, all practitioners of magic will burn as they ought to, so as to purify Camelot of the evil they have caused.
Uther looks pleased because Arthur’s played this game better than he had dared hope, and probably he’s thinking that this all turned out for the best. A sorcerer burned, and a prince championed. The nobles look thrilled at the display, because it’s all very romantic: Arthur on his knees, promising himself to Camelot.
“Rise, Arthur,” Uther says grandly, and Arthur does, slow as a dream. “That is a good vow,” Uther says gently. “And tomorrow you will set out to keep it.”
Arthur looks up sharply.
“There is word of a sorcerer living near Camelot’s western border. You will arrest this man and bring him back to Camelot for his trial and punishment.” Uther smiles. “Do this, Arthur Pendragon, and your favor will be restored.”
“Yes, Sire,” Arthur says, because there’s nothing left.
***
He sleeps little and dreams less. When he wakes, he realizes that his dreams were empty of Merlin and it terrifies him, that he’s losing Merlin already. He grabs at the tattered neckerchief and buries his face in it, trying to remember the way Merlin’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, really smiled, those only-for-Arthur smiles that were worshipful and overwhelming because he’d always seen a greatness and glory in Arthur that Arthur never could.
Arthur tries to remember except he can’t, doesn’t remember the exact color of Merlin’s eyes or whether he had dimples, and it’s like Merlin is already fading and it’s too fast, too soon, because Arthur isn’t ready to let go.
***
The grey morning slides into a greyer day, and they’re ready to set off - Arthur and Tristan and Bors and a squire who will have to serve all three of them at once - when Morgana rides out, silken skirts fluttering alarmingly. Gwen is riding after her, though much less skillfully, and Arthur notices that she’s not wearing her flowers anymore and he supposes that the flowers have died.
They’ll all forget, of course, eventually; Arthur just didn’t think it would happen this soon.
“No,” Arthur tells her. “You aren’t coming.”
Morgana lifts her jaw and manages the complicated feat of looking down her nose at him even though she’s technically looking up. “Uther already granted me permission. It’s quite fortuitous that this came up, actually. Gwen and I were just saying last week that we wanted to get out of the castle a bit, stretch our legs. Weren’t we?”
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