#55 "Command" Arthur/Merlin{implied} PG-13, [cruelty, possible suicidal thoughts]
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This fic is in response to this prompt on KMM1: Arthur/Merlin, Arthur exerts his power over Merlin in a cruel way
495 words.
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“Merlin, do it,” Arthur says from the corner, like he doesn’t understand Merlin’s hesitation, like he doesn’t know why Merlin is so upset about this.
Shutting his magic away - even for such a good reason - is going to be awful.
“I can’t. Arthur, please don’t make me.”
“Merlin - I am the Crown Prince of Camelot. I cannot let you use magic and live. So you will do this, and you will live, and if I deem you fit enough to wield this power, I will let you take it back.”
“Arthur, it’s going to hurt. Every day. Every second of every minute, I will be in pain,” Merlin begs. “Can’t you understand that. It’s not... For me, it’s not like with the others. I don’t need a talisman to use magic. It’s like breathing. It’s a limb. You’re asking me to cut my own arm off, here. You say you love me, but you’re asking me to do this.”
“I’m not asking,” Arthur says, voice ice cold and terrible. “I’m commanding you to do it, or face the execution block. Now. Do it.”
Merlin breathes, deeply, feels the magic in every part of himself. He allows himself two more spells - one to bring only good luck to Arthur, to keep him whole and healthy, and the other to do the same for his mother. He won’t be able to use magic to protect either of them, possibly ever again. He needs it.
Then he picks up the shackles and lifts his ankle closer. The pain as the shackle locks into place is worse than Merlin expected, but he can bear it. Just.
The second shackle takes more work, and when it’s done, Merlin is breathing harshly. Something slides over his soul, something he can’t place, something different.
“There,” Arthur says, satisfied. “Perfect. You’re fit to be my servant, now.”
Merlin nods, hollowly.
“Now, get on with your chores.”
Merlin stands at once. He doesn’t know how, when he’s so tired, and in so much pain, but he does. He has chores to do, has to make Arthur happy and - oh. There must be something else about the shackles, then, something that means he’ll obey Arthur. He looks up at him, hurt and confused.
“It’s for your own good, Merlin,” Arthur says, cruelly.
“Yes, sire,” Merlin responds, hating himself and this stupid, fucked up destiny. Still. When Uther dies, he’ll be free. He’ll be able to prove to Arthur he’s worthy of his birthright.
“And Merlin?” Arthur begins, casually. Merlin turns back around to look at him, curious. “You’re never getting it back. Ever. Magic is evil. Good magic is only fit for great men, and you will never be anything but a servant, too lowly for good.”
Merlin feels it like a slap. Arthur is Crown Prince, though, and completely in control.
Any love they had lays behind them, now, in ruins. Merlin can’t help wishing he’d chosen the block.
*
This fic is in response to this prompt on KMM1: Arthur/Merlin, Arthur exerts his power over Merlin in a cruel way
495 words.
***
“Merlin, do it,” Arthur says from the corner, like he doesn’t understand Merlin’s hesitation, like he doesn’t know why Merlin is so upset about this.
Shutting his magic away - even for such a good reason - is going to be awful.
“I can’t. Arthur, please don’t make me.”
“Merlin - I am the Crown Prince of Camelot. I cannot let you use magic and live. So you will do this, and you will live, and if I deem you fit enough to wield this power, I will let you take it back.”
“Arthur, it’s going to hurt. Every day. Every second of every minute, I will be in pain,” Merlin begs. “Can’t you understand that. It’s not... For me, it’s not like with the others. I don’t need a talisman to use magic. It’s like breathing. It’s a limb. You’re asking me to cut my own arm off, here. You say you love me, but you’re asking me to do this.”
“I’m not asking,” Arthur says, voice ice cold and terrible. “I’m commanding you to do it, or face the execution block. Now. Do it.”
Merlin breathes, deeply, feels the magic in every part of himself. He allows himself two more spells - one to bring only good luck to Arthur, to keep him whole and healthy, and the other to do the same for his mother. He won’t be able to use magic to protect either of them, possibly ever again. He needs it.
Then he picks up the shackles and lifts his ankle closer. The pain as the shackle locks into place is worse than Merlin expected, but he can bear it. Just.
The second shackle takes more work, and when it’s done, Merlin is breathing harshly. Something slides over his soul, something he can’t place, something different.
“There,” Arthur says, satisfied. “Perfect. You’re fit to be my servant, now.”
Merlin nods, hollowly.
“Now, get on with your chores.”
Merlin stands at once. He doesn’t know how, when he’s so tired, and in so much pain, but he does. He has chores to do, has to make Arthur happy and - oh. There must be something else about the shackles, then, something that means he’ll obey Arthur. He looks up at him, hurt and confused.
“It’s for your own good, Merlin,” Arthur says, cruelly.
“Yes, sire,” Merlin responds, hating himself and this stupid, fucked up destiny. Still. When Uther dies, he’ll be free. He’ll be able to prove to Arthur he’s worthy of his birthright.
“And Merlin?” Arthur begins, casually. Merlin turns back around to look at him, curious. “You’re never getting it back. Ever. Magic is evil. Good magic is only fit for great men, and you will never be anything but a servant, too lowly for good.”
Merlin feels it like a slap. Arthur is Crown Prince, though, and completely in control.
Any love they had lays behind them, now, in ruins. Merlin can’t help wishing he’d chosen the block.