{Merlin} Trip Me (I'll Fall)
Title: Trip Me (I'll Fall)
Author: Mayhem
Word Count: 2306
Author's notes: still more Merlin-being-awesome; still no redeeming value
Summary: For this prompt on KinkMe_Merlin: Merlin decides that Uther is right about magic. After all, most of the magical people he meets turn out to be evil. When peddler come to Camelot selling a "cure" for magic, he buys the cure. Arthur notices his manservant's odd behavior, follows him, and witnesses his attempt to cure himself.
Merlin has been a bit twitchy for days now. A sorcerer tried to take Camelot down about a week back, and everyone's been on edge since. Uther decided that if a sorcerer could get that close, he needed to take matters back into his own hands.
Merlin can be forgiven for being twitchy. He's tired of the whole thing; the fear and the paranoia, the witch hunts, the evil magic that keeps trying to take Arthur's life.
He's worried, too. Merlin wishes he could wish his magic away, but it doesn't work like that. Uther is on the warpath, and it's increasingly likely that something is going to happen. He's keeping Arthur-and by extension Merlin-close and busy.
That day, they arrest two girls whose only crime is being twins. They burn at noon, pried apart and tied to separate stakes, calling for each other, and for mercy.
Merlin's not sure how much more of this he can take.
~@~
“Pssssst.”
Merlin looks around, but sees nothing. He hitches Gaius's basket higher on his arm, and takes a step.
“Pssssst, boy.”
He looks around, and finally figures out that the bundle of rags between two stalls is actually a person. A person who's calling him. He comes close enough to talk, but stays out of grabbing distance.
The face appears, and winks. “You've got it, don't you, boy? Got a bit of the magic touch in you.” There's a cackle, but Merlin is too busy trying to decide if it's male or female under all the wrinkles.
He jerks his head up a second too late, and says, “No, of course not!” a bit too loud. The bundle laughs again, and gestures for him to come closer. Merlin has a healthy respect for his elders, thank-you-Gaius, but he's not comfortable with androgynous wizened beggars who can feel his power.
He compromises by staying put, but leaning.
“I can maybe help. I have charms here, charms to suppress, or remove magic from the system,” the peddler coaxes, and Merlin stares at the hands, which are holding a charm.
He knows it's not safe to be magic right now, but he also can't imagine a world where the gold doesn't leap to his command. He can't imagine reaching for it, and finding-well. He can't imagine.
“No,” he says, possibly a bit more violently than intended. “No, thanks. I don't really need it, you see,” he tries.
“Mama Heather has a touch of the sight upon her,” the being, apparently one Mama Heather, confided. “And you, boy...you shine like the sun.”
Merlin swallows, but turns away and doesn't look back.
~@~
Things are stressed, but normal for another two days, and then Uther unveils his surprise.
“It is a drug,” he explains to his audience. “It will taste like plain milk to the innocent, but anyone with any magic will be affected.”
Merlin sways a bit on his feet, and Arthur casts him a sharp look. He waits until they're safe back in Arthur's chambers. “What's wrong with you? You've been a bit off for a while now, and then this.” Arthur waves his hand in a little circle to demonstrate 'this', which Merlin assumes is the whole 'Uther and the magic-detecting milk' lark.
“Think about this,” he says instead of 'I'm scared'. “We don't know what is affects, or who, or how much magic it needs to be. How about people who have the spark, but haven't trained? What about those who were healed? What about those who still leave saucers of milk so the pixies will watch over their crops? Is that enough to condemn them?” He's pacing, and it's just barely keeping a lid on it. “How far will it go, Arthur? How many...” he sighs, slumps into a chair. “How many more innocent burned?”
When he finally catches Arthur's eye, he can tell the prince understands. “Sorry,” Merlin mumbles. He's been way out of line. “It was just....The twins.”
Arthur nods. They'd been seven, with large eyes and curly brown hair. One had given the prince a flower a few hours before her arrest. They'd clung together in the cell, but hadn't cried. They'd been brave, if only for a while.
“I know,” says Arthur. “I know.” He's not happy about this mess either.
Merlin makes a decision. He hates the thought of losing his magic, but he can't protect Arthur if he's dead. Regardless of the degree to which the potion works, Merlin's pretty sure he, at least, will be affected.
He stands abruptly. “I can't-I just have to-” He stops at the door. “I'll be back later,” he says, and Arthur nods.
“Come back here,” he says. “I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight.”
~@~
Arthur starts pacing a short time after Merlin's no longer doing it for him. He loves his father, truly he does, but he loves his people, too.
He has a dreadful feeling that he won't come out of this with both sets of bonds intact.
His head is spinning, and he's not sure what to do. He opens his mouth to admit as much to Merlin, and stops, horrified. Since when was his manservant his confidant? Since when...since when does he trust Merlin so much?
He sits down, and tries to make his mind blank. He achieves meditation for almost two minutes. Then, his brain latches on 'Merlin', and he scowls.
“Fine!” He declares to his empty room, and follows Merlin's shadow out the door.
It feels better to be moving.
He gets as far as the entryway without needing tracking skills of any sort. It's likely that Merlin turned left, headed towards Gaius's rooms. He's heading there when Merlin leaves the physician's quarters with a determined stride. He passes Arthur, who's sunk into the shadows, and passes the turn back up to Arthur's room, too.
He's heading through the autumn evening to the market.
Arthur follows. He doesn't notice that his anger is seeping out, replaced by fondness and curiosity.
He catches up to Merlin as he slips between the egg vendor, who's just leaving, and a book seller. Arthur leans on the wall on the book stall's other side, where he's obscured, but can see Merlin. Because the market's emptying, he can even hear them, if he strains.
He does.
“...temporary, right?” Merlin is asking a bundle of upright rags desperately. “I can just, just take it off, and everything goes back to normal.”
“Of course, dear boy,” the rag says. “Couldn't have you wasting all that potential, hmmm?” It holds up an amulet on a string, and Merlin sucks in a breath. “I told you it was real!” the peddler crows.
“Yes,” says Merlin breathlessly. “I can tell.” He swallows, but dickers a bit, and ends up paying an only slightly exorbitant sum, instead of the fortune that was the initial price.
Arthur's frowning. He never thought about it, but yes, he can see Merlin being a good haggler.
Merlin takes the amulet, and stares at it for a second. “I never wanted this,” he says, “but thank you.”
There's cackling. Arthur's never heard anyone cackle before, but there is definite cackling happening now. “Needs must when destiny drives,” comes the voice.
“Not you, too,” Merlin moans. “But really, thank you.”
He puts the charm in his pocket, and disappears into the crowd.
Arthur starts to push off the wall, but a bright eye is peering at him along it. “Best hurry, sonny boy,” the peddler croaks at him. “He's messing with something bigger than he thinks. You want to be there to catch him when he falls?” There is more cackling, and Arthur pushes himself off the wall for real, and circumvents the book seller.
By the time he gets there, the peddler is gone. He turns and runs for Merlin instead.
~@~
Merlin doesn't like the necklace; the charm is burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket. Finally, he reaches the stables. There's some room behind it, and it's dark and undisturbed. Not even the couples come here; nobody likes the smell of horse dung.
He puts his back to the stone wall, and breathes a minute. He knows the charm is magic, but he needs to try it. He draws out the heavy cord, and it grows heavier on his fingers. He stares at it, and then hurriedly drops it over his head.
He immediately pitches face-first towards the ground.
He doesn't hit stone, but he hears a voice above him. “Wow,” it says, and it sounds familiar, “I guess the comment was literal.”
He blinks, but that's about all he can do. Arthur helps him sit down properly, and he sags against the wall. “Is this what it's like to...how do you live?”
“Sorry?” Arthur asks. He'd not entirely sure what's going on here, but he knows that he doesn't like this charm overmuch.
“I can't-you can't feel it,” Merlin marvels. “Everything's so, so dim.” He tugs at the string weakly, pulling it up to look at it. He meets Arthur's eyes. “Being normal sucks,” he complains.
Arthur's eyes are on the pendant. It's twisty, and he can't follow it without losing track and it's starting to hurt his eyes. “What is this?” he tries to ask, but it comes out more of a demand.
“It's designed to cut off a person's connection to magic,” Merlin explains, and he's watching the pendant twirl too.
“It's-you're-magic?” Arthur, rather embarrassingly, squeaks on the last word. “But magic-you can't-Merlin!” He's not making sense, but things are making too much sense in his head. He stares at the pendant some more, then grabs the string from Merlin's hand and jerks Merlin's head in close.
“You are not allowed to be magic,” he grits out. “You are not magic, and cannot be magic, not at this court.” He gives the string an extra vicious tug, shaking Merlin's head. “I do not know anything about magic, and neither do you. Got it?”
Merlin swallows, and tries to nod, but they end up banging foreheads instead. Arthur stands, pulling him along, and then drops the cord and Merlin with it.
“Now,” Arthur is pacing the three steps of room he has. “You are obviously a better liar than I gave you credit for. Continue to carry on, right? No tricks, no magic in the castle, no even thinking the word 'magic'. We will not discuss this again, except for tonight when we'll need to make escape plans. But more than all that, promise me you won't get caught.”
Merlin's just staring at him, eyes wide, bit of metal clutched tightly in his hand. Arthur jerks his hand and adds, “And for goodness' sake, take that damn thing off.”
Merlin, contrary to the last, clutches it tighter. “But, but your father-the drug-”
And just like that, Arthur's nervous energy dissipates. He puts his back to the wall and slides down next to Merlin. “It's a scare tactic. Father used it often in the past. He's just explained it to me. Anyone with magic is scared, and thus, leaves Camelot. He purges magic users without having to kill anyone, and it mostly is only the guilty who flee.”
Merlin strangles a “What?!”
“The milk is just goat's milk. Possibly with some spice or something to give it an odd flavor.”
Merlin jerks the cord over his head and makes to toss it away, but stops. He shudders, but puts the thing in his pocket anyway.
Arthur swallows, but nods. “Yes, best keep that, just in case.”
Merlin looks at it, and sighs. “But I'm not sure I could live like that. Not for any length of time.”
“Yes, well, needs must and all. Keep it.”
Merlin closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall, breathing the night and feeling the pulse and movement of magic under his skin. It's comfortable and real and fantastic, and that moment when he was cut off from it hurt.
Finally, Arthur asks, eyes on the wall, “Was it bad?”
Merlin opens his mouth to say oh yes and you can't imagine and so much worse, but in the end, there are no words. So he drops his hand onto the prince's, and nudges just a little here, tugs a bit there, and opens Arthur up to the pulse of the world and the burn of the gold and the sheer life that surrounds them.
“Oh,” Arthur breathes, and doesn't dare move. “Oh, wow.”
Merlin smiles at the sky. “That's what my world is,” he says. “And to not have that...” And he lifts his hand, and takes it away.
Arthur stays perfectly still, before giving a single, violent, full-body shiver. “Right,” he says. “Still, keep the amulet. But it will be a last resort.”
And though his instincts tell him to tear it out of his pocket and fling it away, or burn it or unmake it as blasphemous and unnatural, he knows it's necessary.
“I'll keep it.” he allows, “but I won't like it.”
“Understood,” Arthur says, and “Hopefully, it will never come to that. But I can't promise.”
And much as it pains him, Merlin smiles. “I know,” he says, and he does, he knows, but he also knows that one day, well. One day, maybe, he could throw it away.
“Yeah,” he says, and Arthur twitches his hand, so Merlin takes it again. Despite the smell, they stay there a while, and Merlin shows Arthur the soft sound of starlight and the life of the wind and the glory of the land.
Author: Mayhem
Word Count: 2306
Author's notes: still more Merlin-being-awesome; still no redeeming value
Summary: For this prompt on KinkMe_Merlin: Merlin decides that Uther is right about magic. After all, most of the magical people he meets turn out to be evil. When peddler come to Camelot selling a "cure" for magic, he buys the cure. Arthur notices his manservant's odd behavior, follows him, and witnesses his attempt to cure himself.
Merlin has been a bit twitchy for days now. A sorcerer tried to take Camelot down about a week back, and everyone's been on edge since. Uther decided that if a sorcerer could get that close, he needed to take matters back into his own hands.
Merlin can be forgiven for being twitchy. He's tired of the whole thing; the fear and the paranoia, the witch hunts, the evil magic that keeps trying to take Arthur's life.
He's worried, too. Merlin wishes he could wish his magic away, but it doesn't work like that. Uther is on the warpath, and it's increasingly likely that something is going to happen. He's keeping Arthur-and by extension Merlin-close and busy.
That day, they arrest two girls whose only crime is being twins. They burn at noon, pried apart and tied to separate stakes, calling for each other, and for mercy.
Merlin's not sure how much more of this he can take.
~@~
“Pssssst.”
Merlin looks around, but sees nothing. He hitches Gaius's basket higher on his arm, and takes a step.
“Pssssst, boy.”
He looks around, and finally figures out that the bundle of rags between two stalls is actually a person. A person who's calling him. He comes close enough to talk, but stays out of grabbing distance.
The face appears, and winks. “You've got it, don't you, boy? Got a bit of the magic touch in you.” There's a cackle, but Merlin is too busy trying to decide if it's male or female under all the wrinkles.
He jerks his head up a second too late, and says, “No, of course not!” a bit too loud. The bundle laughs again, and gestures for him to come closer. Merlin has a healthy respect for his elders, thank-you-Gaius, but he's not comfortable with androgynous wizened beggars who can feel his power.
He compromises by staying put, but leaning.
“I can maybe help. I have charms here, charms to suppress, or remove magic from the system,” the peddler coaxes, and Merlin stares at the hands, which are holding a charm.
He knows it's not safe to be magic right now, but he also can't imagine a world where the gold doesn't leap to his command. He can't imagine reaching for it, and finding-well. He can't imagine.
“No,” he says, possibly a bit more violently than intended. “No, thanks. I don't really need it, you see,” he tries.
“Mama Heather has a touch of the sight upon her,” the being, apparently one Mama Heather, confided. “And you, boy...you shine like the sun.”
Merlin swallows, but turns away and doesn't look back.
~@~
Things are stressed, but normal for another two days, and then Uther unveils his surprise.
“It is a drug,” he explains to his audience. “It will taste like plain milk to the innocent, but anyone with any magic will be affected.”
Merlin sways a bit on his feet, and Arthur casts him a sharp look. He waits until they're safe back in Arthur's chambers. “What's wrong with you? You've been a bit off for a while now, and then this.” Arthur waves his hand in a little circle to demonstrate 'this', which Merlin assumes is the whole 'Uther and the magic-detecting milk' lark.
“Think about this,” he says instead of 'I'm scared'. “We don't know what is affects, or who, or how much magic it needs to be. How about people who have the spark, but haven't trained? What about those who were healed? What about those who still leave saucers of milk so the pixies will watch over their crops? Is that enough to condemn them?” He's pacing, and it's just barely keeping a lid on it. “How far will it go, Arthur? How many...” he sighs, slumps into a chair. “How many more innocent burned?”
When he finally catches Arthur's eye, he can tell the prince understands. “Sorry,” Merlin mumbles. He's been way out of line. “It was just....The twins.”
Arthur nods. They'd been seven, with large eyes and curly brown hair. One had given the prince a flower a few hours before her arrest. They'd clung together in the cell, but hadn't cried. They'd been brave, if only for a while.
“I know,” says Arthur. “I know.” He's not happy about this mess either.
Merlin makes a decision. He hates the thought of losing his magic, but he can't protect Arthur if he's dead. Regardless of the degree to which the potion works, Merlin's pretty sure he, at least, will be affected.
He stands abruptly. “I can't-I just have to-” He stops at the door. “I'll be back later,” he says, and Arthur nods.
“Come back here,” he says. “I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight.”
~@~
Arthur starts pacing a short time after Merlin's no longer doing it for him. He loves his father, truly he does, but he loves his people, too.
He has a dreadful feeling that he won't come out of this with both sets of bonds intact.
His head is spinning, and he's not sure what to do. He opens his mouth to admit as much to Merlin, and stops, horrified. Since when was his manservant his confidant? Since when...since when does he trust Merlin so much?
He sits down, and tries to make his mind blank. He achieves meditation for almost two minutes. Then, his brain latches on 'Merlin', and he scowls.
“Fine!” He declares to his empty room, and follows Merlin's shadow out the door.
It feels better to be moving.
He gets as far as the entryway without needing tracking skills of any sort. It's likely that Merlin turned left, headed towards Gaius's rooms. He's heading there when Merlin leaves the physician's quarters with a determined stride. He passes Arthur, who's sunk into the shadows, and passes the turn back up to Arthur's room, too.
He's heading through the autumn evening to the market.
Arthur follows. He doesn't notice that his anger is seeping out, replaced by fondness and curiosity.
He catches up to Merlin as he slips between the egg vendor, who's just leaving, and a book seller. Arthur leans on the wall on the book stall's other side, where he's obscured, but can see Merlin. Because the market's emptying, he can even hear them, if he strains.
He does.
“...temporary, right?” Merlin is asking a bundle of upright rags desperately. “I can just, just take it off, and everything goes back to normal.”
“Of course, dear boy,” the rag says. “Couldn't have you wasting all that potential, hmmm?” It holds up an amulet on a string, and Merlin sucks in a breath. “I told you it was real!” the peddler crows.
“Yes,” says Merlin breathlessly. “I can tell.” He swallows, but dickers a bit, and ends up paying an only slightly exorbitant sum, instead of the fortune that was the initial price.
Arthur's frowning. He never thought about it, but yes, he can see Merlin being a good haggler.
Merlin takes the amulet, and stares at it for a second. “I never wanted this,” he says, “but thank you.”
There's cackling. Arthur's never heard anyone cackle before, but there is definite cackling happening now. “Needs must when destiny drives,” comes the voice.
“Not you, too,” Merlin moans. “But really, thank you.”
He puts the charm in his pocket, and disappears into the crowd.
Arthur starts to push off the wall, but a bright eye is peering at him along it. “Best hurry, sonny boy,” the peddler croaks at him. “He's messing with something bigger than he thinks. You want to be there to catch him when he falls?” There is more cackling, and Arthur pushes himself off the wall for real, and circumvents the book seller.
By the time he gets there, the peddler is gone. He turns and runs for Merlin instead.
~@~
Merlin doesn't like the necklace; the charm is burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket. Finally, he reaches the stables. There's some room behind it, and it's dark and undisturbed. Not even the couples come here; nobody likes the smell of horse dung.
He puts his back to the stone wall, and breathes a minute. He knows the charm is magic, but he needs to try it. He draws out the heavy cord, and it grows heavier on his fingers. He stares at it, and then hurriedly drops it over his head.
He immediately pitches face-first towards the ground.
He doesn't hit stone, but he hears a voice above him. “Wow,” it says, and it sounds familiar, “I guess the comment was literal.”
He blinks, but that's about all he can do. Arthur helps him sit down properly, and he sags against the wall. “Is this what it's like to...how do you live?”
“Sorry?” Arthur asks. He'd not entirely sure what's going on here, but he knows that he doesn't like this charm overmuch.
“I can't-you can't feel it,” Merlin marvels. “Everything's so, so dim.” He tugs at the string weakly, pulling it up to look at it. He meets Arthur's eyes. “Being normal sucks,” he complains.
Arthur's eyes are on the pendant. It's twisty, and he can't follow it without losing track and it's starting to hurt his eyes. “What is this?” he tries to ask, but it comes out more of a demand.
“It's designed to cut off a person's connection to magic,” Merlin explains, and he's watching the pendant twirl too.
“It's-you're-magic?” Arthur, rather embarrassingly, squeaks on the last word. “But magic-you can't-Merlin!” He's not making sense, but things are making too much sense in his head. He stares at the pendant some more, then grabs the string from Merlin's hand and jerks Merlin's head in close.
“You are not allowed to be magic,” he grits out. “You are not magic, and cannot be magic, not at this court.” He gives the string an extra vicious tug, shaking Merlin's head. “I do not know anything about magic, and neither do you. Got it?”
Merlin swallows, and tries to nod, but they end up banging foreheads instead. Arthur stands, pulling him along, and then drops the cord and Merlin with it.
“Now,” Arthur is pacing the three steps of room he has. “You are obviously a better liar than I gave you credit for. Continue to carry on, right? No tricks, no magic in the castle, no even thinking the word 'magic'. We will not discuss this again, except for tonight when we'll need to make escape plans. But more than all that, promise me you won't get caught.”
Merlin's just staring at him, eyes wide, bit of metal clutched tightly in his hand. Arthur jerks his hand and adds, “And for goodness' sake, take that damn thing off.”
Merlin, contrary to the last, clutches it tighter. “But, but your father-the drug-”
And just like that, Arthur's nervous energy dissipates. He puts his back to the wall and slides down next to Merlin. “It's a scare tactic. Father used it often in the past. He's just explained it to me. Anyone with magic is scared, and thus, leaves Camelot. He purges magic users without having to kill anyone, and it mostly is only the guilty who flee.”
Merlin strangles a “What?!”
“The milk is just goat's milk. Possibly with some spice or something to give it an odd flavor.”
Merlin jerks the cord over his head and makes to toss it away, but stops. He shudders, but puts the thing in his pocket anyway.
Arthur swallows, but nods. “Yes, best keep that, just in case.”
Merlin looks at it, and sighs. “But I'm not sure I could live like that. Not for any length of time.”
“Yes, well, needs must and all. Keep it.”
Merlin closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall, breathing the night and feeling the pulse and movement of magic under his skin. It's comfortable and real and fantastic, and that moment when he was cut off from it hurt.
Finally, Arthur asks, eyes on the wall, “Was it bad?”
Merlin opens his mouth to say oh yes and you can't imagine and so much worse, but in the end, there are no words. So he drops his hand onto the prince's, and nudges just a little here, tugs a bit there, and opens Arthur up to the pulse of the world and the burn of the gold and the sheer life that surrounds them.
“Oh,” Arthur breathes, and doesn't dare move. “Oh, wow.”
Merlin smiles at the sky. “That's what my world is,” he says. “And to not have that...” And he lifts his hand, and takes it away.
Arthur stays perfectly still, before giving a single, violent, full-body shiver. “Right,” he says. “Still, keep the amulet. But it will be a last resort.”
And though his instincts tell him to tear it out of his pocket and fling it away, or burn it or unmake it as blasphemous and unnatural, he knows it's necessary.
“I'll keep it.” he allows, “but I won't like it.”
“Understood,” Arthur says, and “Hopefully, it will never come to that. But I can't promise.”
And much as it pains him, Merlin smiles. “I know,” he says, and he does, he knows, but he also knows that one day, well. One day, maybe, he could throw it away.
“Yeah,” he says, and Arthur twitches his hand, so Merlin takes it again. Despite the smell, they stay there a while, and Merlin shows Arthur the soft sound of starlight and the life of the wind and the glory of the land.