Tingling Senses
Title: Tingling Senses
Author: Llama1412
Universe: BBC Merlin
Characters: Arthur, Merlin
Disclaimer: Characters from BBC Merlin and the Arthurian Legends do not belong to me.
Summary: Arthur had always been sensitive to magic.
When Arthur was seven years old, he learned that he felt changes in the earth that nobody else did. He'd always had a tendency to fall sick or grow uncomfortable when the winds changed and foul magic blew into the kingdom, but it was only in his seventh year that he realized that others couldn't taste the taint in the air, couldn't feel the magic slide with a slimy grasp over their skin.
The realization was frightening. Did this mean he had magic? But magic was evil, he could feel it when those sorcerers used it to try to hurt his father's rule. Surely he wasn't evil. After all, he would never go against his father. His father was his entire world and his father knew everything and was always right. For what reason would Arthur ever want to go against his father?
So no, he wasn't magic, because he wasn't evil, his seven year old mind decided. It also decided that he had to make sure no one else thought he was magic, so even when he felt sick with the foul contamination that permeated the air when their crops suffered from a magical plague, he carried on, determined to stay at his father's side as his loyal son.
This approach served him well for a long time. He even learned to focus on fighting while his insides were coiling together in a big ball of discomfort and disgust, an ability that would serve him well if he ever had to march to war against a sorcerer.
And suddenly, one inauspicious afternoon, a scruffy looking peasant changed the world for him. He could feel the magic working around him, sabotaging his footwork and flail swings. And yet, he didn't get the sickening feeling roiling in his stomach as he usually did. Instead, he felt strangely at peace with the magic. During the fight, he could dismiss the feeling as adrenaline and let it fuel his anger at the peasant's gall, and yet...after the fact, there was no denying that, while he'd been irritated by the humiliation a mere peasant served upon him, the magic had not lent itself to his temper. He hadn't called the guards on the sorcerer, hell, had even told them to let him go when they tried to detain him for attacking the prince.
He stared after the boy, thoughts racing around his head as his companions congratulated him on taking the upstart out with no more than a broom, his humiliation avenged.
Why hadn't he sent the boy to be executed? Magic was evil, always evil, and even if it hadn't felt like it then, well, it was no doubt some sort of fluke. That was it, he told himself. He didn't have the guards arrest Merlin because he wanted to watch him, figure out this strange fluke. The next time it happened, he'd feel the evilness of magic, he was sure, and then, then he would have Merlin put to death, as all sorcerers should be.
As time passed and he grew strangely close to the peasant-cum-manservant, he still kept convincing himself that he was just waiting for the tell-tale taint of evil magic to alert him and then he'd do the right thing as a loyal son and cart Merlin off to the dungeons.
It wasn't until he was curled around the satiated form of his sorcerer that he was forced to admit that he wouldn't let anyone hurt Merlin, even if the magic should turn out to be evil. He'd just have to trust in Merlin and in his instincts that his manservant wouldn't use his magic for bad, wouldn't force Arthur to turn against his father, his people, his country all to protect this one man who had ferreted his way into Arthur's heart without ever trying.
Author: Llama1412
Universe: BBC Merlin
Characters: Arthur, Merlin
Disclaimer: Characters from BBC Merlin and the Arthurian Legends do not belong to me.
Summary: Arthur had always been sensitive to magic.
When Arthur was seven years old, he learned that he felt changes in the earth that nobody else did. He'd always had a tendency to fall sick or grow uncomfortable when the winds changed and foul magic blew into the kingdom, but it was only in his seventh year that he realized that others couldn't taste the taint in the air, couldn't feel the magic slide with a slimy grasp over their skin.
The realization was frightening. Did this mean he had magic? But magic was evil, he could feel it when those sorcerers used it to try to hurt his father's rule. Surely he wasn't evil. After all, he would never go against his father. His father was his entire world and his father knew everything and was always right. For what reason would Arthur ever want to go against his father?
So no, he wasn't magic, because he wasn't evil, his seven year old mind decided. It also decided that he had to make sure no one else thought he was magic, so even when he felt sick with the foul contamination that permeated the air when their crops suffered from a magical plague, he carried on, determined to stay at his father's side as his loyal son.
This approach served him well for a long time. He even learned to focus on fighting while his insides were coiling together in a big ball of discomfort and disgust, an ability that would serve him well if he ever had to march to war against a sorcerer.
And suddenly, one inauspicious afternoon, a scruffy looking peasant changed the world for him. He could feel the magic working around him, sabotaging his footwork and flail swings. And yet, he didn't get the sickening feeling roiling in his stomach as he usually did. Instead, he felt strangely at peace with the magic. During the fight, he could dismiss the feeling as adrenaline and let it fuel his anger at the peasant's gall, and yet...after the fact, there was no denying that, while he'd been irritated by the humiliation a mere peasant served upon him, the magic had not lent itself to his temper. He hadn't called the guards on the sorcerer, hell, had even told them to let him go when they tried to detain him for attacking the prince.
He stared after the boy, thoughts racing around his head as his companions congratulated him on taking the upstart out with no more than a broom, his humiliation avenged.
Why hadn't he sent the boy to be executed? Magic was evil, always evil, and even if it hadn't felt like it then, well, it was no doubt some sort of fluke. That was it, he told himself. He didn't have the guards arrest Merlin because he wanted to watch him, figure out this strange fluke. The next time it happened, he'd feel the evilness of magic, he was sure, and then, then he would have Merlin put to death, as all sorcerers should be.
As time passed and he grew strangely close to the peasant-cum-manservant, he still kept convincing himself that he was just waiting for the tell-tale taint of evil magic to alert him and then he'd do the right thing as a loyal son and cart Merlin off to the dungeons.
It wasn't until he was curled around the satiated form of his sorcerer that he was forced to admit that he wouldn't let anyone hurt Merlin, even if the magic should turn out to be evil. He'd just have to trust in Merlin and in his instincts that his manservant wouldn't use his magic for bad, wouldn't force Arthur to turn against his father, his people, his country all to protect this one man who had ferreted his way into Arthur's heart without ever trying.