Prompt fic: Walk of Shame (Merlin/Arthur)
Another prompt fic!
Prompt: Walk of Shame.
Wordcount: 658
Warnings: Some bad language.
“I’ve heard it said he can level a castle with a flick of his hand.” Toby said in a hushed voice.
Thomas chuckled and poked the fire a little, sending sparks flying into the cold morning air. “Likely that’s true, although I can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”
“I wish I could see him,” said Toby, wistful. “Just once. Just so I could say I’ve seen him, seen real magic.”
Thomas smiled at him fondly and stretched, his muscles stiff and aching from a long night on guard. “Well, likely you’ll see him before too long,” he said complacently, “That’s the Mercian delegation arriving.”
Toby twisted around in time to see a group of richly apparelled men ride into the camp. A group of Knights approached them and bowed, deeply, but Toby could see no new faces among them.
“Where is he? I can’t see him.”
“Have patience lad.” Thomas laughed. He glanced across to the group, seemingly waiting for some signal. Toby didn’t dare blink lest he miss the sorcerer’s great arrival, but, to his disappointment, there was only more bowing as the horses were led away. He was about to risk turning away, only for a second, to ask Thomas what he was supposed to be looking for when one of the Mercian party stepped forward and, with a flourish, produced a horn and blew it, the noise startlingly loud in the still morning.
“That should do it,” came Thomas’s voice.
Toby gasped. “Are they- Are they summoning him?"
“In a manner of speaking.”
It was fortunate, Toby thought later, that he turned to look at Thomas at that point, or he would never have seen the tall, slight young man who shot out of the back of the King’s tent like something large and fire-breathing was chasing him. Toby’s first terrifying instinct, that this was an assassin, was somewhat undermined when the flap of the tent opened once more and a jacket flew out, hitting the young man square in the face. Bewildered, Toby looked at Thomas, who winked and placed a finger on his lips. Together they watched the young man, who seemed to be wearing his tunic inside out, hopping on one foot, then the other, as he pulled on his boots - all the while keeping up a litany of fuck, fuck, fuck.
With admirable patience Thomas waited until he had thrown on his jacket (covered in mud) and was trying to walk and lace his breeches properly at the same time before he said, “Morning, Master Merlin.”
The noise Master Merlin emitted was one Toby thought unlikely in any man, let alone a great and powerful sorcerer.
“Thomas! Er… I was- I was just-”
“Consulting with His Majesty?”
“Consulting with...? Uh, yes. Exactly.” It was at this point he noticed Toby. “Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Hello.” He looked like he wanted to offer a hand, but it seemed politeness lost out to the need to hold on to his trousers.
Toby found he didn’t much care. “You’re Merlin,” he breathed.
The man, Merlin, grinned weakly, “I’m afraid so.”
“Is it true you can fly?” blurted Toby before he could stop himself. This might be his only chance to ask, after all.
Merlin looked a bit surprised. “Well, I have been known to-”
“I think Sir Galahad and Sir Bors are coming this way,” interrupted Thomas casually, “In case you wanted to avoid a repeat of last time.” They all turned to see the two Knights making their way towards the King’s tent, accompanied by the Mercian nobles.
“You are a wise man Thomas,” said Merlin. He chewed his lip for a moment, looking down the line of tents as though assessing the time it would take to run the length of the camp. Then he looked at the two of them and said, very seriously, “You know, I’m not supposed to use my magic for frivolous purposes.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, and Merlin grinned, suddenly mischievious. “But then, if anyone asks, you can just say you didn’t see me.”
Toby had just opened his mouth to ask what on earth that meant when the air shimmered gold before his eyes and in a flash of light Merlin was gone, leaving a charge behind him, like the air before a storm.
There was a long silence.
“He can disappear,” said Toby at last, awestruck.
Thomas poked the fire a little more, watching the sparks fly, gold like Merlin’s magic. “Aye, likely that’s true. Although I can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”
THE END.
Prompt: Walk of Shame.
Wordcount: 658
Warnings: Some bad language.
“I’ve heard it said he can level a castle with a flick of his hand.” Toby said in a hushed voice.
Thomas chuckled and poked the fire a little, sending sparks flying into the cold morning air. “Likely that’s true, although I can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”
“I wish I could see him,” said Toby, wistful. “Just once. Just so I could say I’ve seen him, seen real magic.”
Thomas smiled at him fondly and stretched, his muscles stiff and aching from a long night on guard. “Well, likely you’ll see him before too long,” he said complacently, “That’s the Mercian delegation arriving.”
Toby twisted around in time to see a group of richly apparelled men ride into the camp. A group of Knights approached them and bowed, deeply, but Toby could see no new faces among them.
“Where is he? I can’t see him.”
“Have patience lad.” Thomas laughed. He glanced across to the group, seemingly waiting for some signal. Toby didn’t dare blink lest he miss the sorcerer’s great arrival, but, to his disappointment, there was only more bowing as the horses were led away. He was about to risk turning away, only for a second, to ask Thomas what he was supposed to be looking for when one of the Mercian party stepped forward and, with a flourish, produced a horn and blew it, the noise startlingly loud in the still morning.
“That should do it,” came Thomas’s voice.
Toby gasped. “Are they- Are they summoning him?"
“In a manner of speaking.”
It was fortunate, Toby thought later, that he turned to look at Thomas at that point, or he would never have seen the tall, slight young man who shot out of the back of the King’s tent like something large and fire-breathing was chasing him. Toby’s first terrifying instinct, that this was an assassin, was somewhat undermined when the flap of the tent opened once more and a jacket flew out, hitting the young man square in the face. Bewildered, Toby looked at Thomas, who winked and placed a finger on his lips. Together they watched the young man, who seemed to be wearing his tunic inside out, hopping on one foot, then the other, as he pulled on his boots - all the while keeping up a litany of fuck, fuck, fuck.
With admirable patience Thomas waited until he had thrown on his jacket (covered in mud) and was trying to walk and lace his breeches properly at the same time before he said, “Morning, Master Merlin.”
The noise Master Merlin emitted was one Toby thought unlikely in any man, let alone a great and powerful sorcerer.
“Thomas! Er… I was- I was just-”
“Consulting with His Majesty?”
“Consulting with...? Uh, yes. Exactly.” It was at this point he noticed Toby. “Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Hello.” He looked like he wanted to offer a hand, but it seemed politeness lost out to the need to hold on to his trousers.
Toby found he didn’t much care. “You’re Merlin,” he breathed.
The man, Merlin, grinned weakly, “I’m afraid so.”
“Is it true you can fly?” blurted Toby before he could stop himself. This might be his only chance to ask, after all.
Merlin looked a bit surprised. “Well, I have been known to-”
“I think Sir Galahad and Sir Bors are coming this way,” interrupted Thomas casually, “In case you wanted to avoid a repeat of last time.” They all turned to see the two Knights making their way towards the King’s tent, accompanied by the Mercian nobles.
“You are a wise man Thomas,” said Merlin. He chewed his lip for a moment, looking down the line of tents as though assessing the time it would take to run the length of the camp. Then he looked at the two of them and said, very seriously, “You know, I’m not supposed to use my magic for frivolous purposes.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, and Merlin grinned, suddenly mischievious. “But then, if anyone asks, you can just say you didn’t see me.”
Toby had just opened his mouth to ask what on earth that meant when the air shimmered gold before his eyes and in a flash of light Merlin was gone, leaving a charge behind him, like the air before a storm.
There was a long silence.
“He can disappear,” said Toby at last, awestruck.
Thomas poked the fire a little more, watching the sparks fly, gold like Merlin’s magic. “Aye, likely that’s true. Although I can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”
THE END.