[FIC] Fragments of a Burning Reality (Arthur/Merlin; R)
Author/Artist: baboomstick
Title: Fragments of a Burning Reality
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin if you squint.
Rating: R(to be safe)
Summary: Merlin is a monster who’s been caged.
Warnings (if any): slavery, angst, bittersweet ending
Total word count: 1,010
Original prompt number: 32 - Submitted by accioscar
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): Ah, at long last it is done. I hope that you all enjoy it and that the original poster is happy.
Beta(s): tsteeb(not lj member)
Fragments of a Burning Reality
Merlin wonders about the outside sometimes; about Camelot and Gwen and Gaius and even Morgana. He wonders if anyone misses him or if they even noticed the slight serving boy with big ears and neckerchiefs being hauled off in a horse driven cage.
Mostly though, when he really allows himself, he thinks about Arthur.
--
“Up boy!” startles Merlin out of a restless nightmare involving Arthur and another Questing Beast and lots of blood, blood, blood. He woke before the end and wonders if Arthur dies and then decides quickly that its better if he doesn’t know.
The slap reminds him of where he is and he bows his head, “Yes, sir?”
“Wrists first, idiot,” the burly man growls, gripping Merlin’s hand tight to unlock the shackles, “First show of the night.”
“No,” Merlin says without thinking, without remembering that this master is not as nice as his last.
Merlin expects this slap, doesn’t even flinch as his skin burns, “Sorry, sir.”
“Ye’ better be, fucking moron. Get your shit, you’re on in five.”
Merlin follows him up the stairs and thinks of death.
--
On stage, the fire dances across his fingers forming pictures in the sky; pictures of great warriors fighting dragons, of unicorns galloping through fields of golden grass, of beautiful princes in high thrones.
He wonders if Arthur thinks of him, wonders if Arthur cared that his - most useless ever, Merlin - manservant is gone, has been gone for months.
He wonders if Arthur will remember who Merlin was; will love him as Merlin, not just a sorcerer.
The fire burns out against his cool palms and Merlin wishes Arthur could feel it.
--
Merlin does do well with the audience that night and knows he will be in The Duel. He’s not scared, not after months of being here, of twenty different duels; after twenty different dead men.
If Arthur were here, saw the murderer that Merlin had become, sweet, innocent - you’re beautiful- Merlin, Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to kill Merlin himself.
Merlin is a monster who’s been caged.
--
The Duel is a large field of dirt in the middle of a thick forest of trees. Merlin and the other wizard, Darion, are pulled by their chains to their separate ends of the battle ground. They wait sullenly as they’re unleashed and the crowd files in.
The audience is gearing up for a fight, and Merlin already feels nauseous. Merlin believes in his ability to win, believes in his magic. That’s what scares him the most.
The fight starts as Darion raises a hand, magic tearing through the land but Merlin’s ready for it. Darion’s spell bounces off the shield Merlin casts. Darion isn’t quite as lucky, blood pouring from the wound on his left arm. He makes a small grunt, gripping the cut tightly. Merlin takes his chance, wants it done quickly, and raises his hand quickly, fire erupting.
Darion screams as he is engulfed in flames. The smell of burning flesh raises high in the air as everyone cheers and Merlin bends at the waist, bile rising in his throat. This part is always the worst, applauds reaching his ears as another human burns.
--
The walk back is quiet, minus the sounds of Merlin’s chains clinking together. This night, he hears hooves pounding across the grass. He doesn’t turn, waits, even as he hears his name called from behind them. He can’t believe it, can’t believe that he is saved.
The men stop, turn and scream in anger. The one holding his chains pulls him onto the horse, speeding up as if he was getting away. They break from the woods into another clearing, Arthur pushing forward from the other side. Arthur wastes no time, charging forward with his sword raised and Merlin throws himself to the ground, chain catching around his neck. Merlin’s vision blurs of dark green and blue as he’s dragged behind the horse. The last thing he hears is Arthur’s yell as he fades out.
--
Merlin wakes in Arthur’s chambers, still groggy and light headed. He blinks slowly, becoming more aware of the soft mumbling being made from his bedside. The mumbling becomes words as Arthur’s bowed head comes into view. Arthur’s stream of I’m sorry, I’m sorry Merlin, I’m so sorry follows him into sleep.
--
The next time he wakes, Gaius is at his bedside. Merlin tries to slow his breathing, act as if he’s sleeping, but he’s scared, doesn’t know how to act any longer.
“Merlin,” his breathing picks up once again, throat closing as tears rise in his eyes. “Oh, Merlin,” and it explodes, sobs wracking his body as he remembers everything.
Gaius pulls him in close, Merlin holding just as tight. He wishes Arthur was here, Arthur to hold and only sobs harder.
--
Merlin doesn’t see Arthur again until he returns to work the following week. He barely Merlin a glance, “Attend to the chamberpots,” as he leaves.
Merlin cleans everything without using magic by the time Arthur returns. He doesn’t look at Merlin, but Merlin looks at him. He sees the tension in Arthur’s shoulders, the line of his body as he dismisses Merlin.
--
It continues for weeks, Arthur looking everywhere but at Merlin and Merlin staring at Arthur’s back.
Merlin doesn’t say a thing, just watches and waits.
--
Arthur makes his move a month after Merlin was rescued. Merlin is waiting for his dismissal that never comes. Arthur stares back with a dark intensity, “Merlin.”
He moves slowly closer, and Merlin breath hitches as Arthur stops directly in front of him, before pulling him into a harsh hug. Merlin returns it, body sagging in relief at Arthur’s acceptance.
He remembers burning flesh and harsh words and chains that bind. He remembers jeers and blood and the hopelessness. Merlin will always remember.
But Arthur still holds him close as he cries, still tells him it’s okay, still says Merlin with an exasperated fondness. Arthur still remembers that Merlin is not a monster.
Arthurs reminds Merlin that he is human.
Title: Fragments of a Burning Reality
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin if you squint.
Rating: R(to be safe)
Summary: Merlin is a monster who’s been caged.
Warnings (if any): slavery, angst, bittersweet ending
Total word count: 1,010
Original prompt number: 32 - Submitted by accioscar
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): Ah, at long last it is done. I hope that you all enjoy it and that the original poster is happy.
Beta(s): tsteeb(not lj member)
Fragments of a Burning Reality
Merlin wonders about the outside sometimes; about Camelot and Gwen and Gaius and even Morgana. He wonders if anyone misses him or if they even noticed the slight serving boy with big ears and neckerchiefs being hauled off in a horse driven cage.
Mostly though, when he really allows himself, he thinks about Arthur.
--
“Up boy!” startles Merlin out of a restless nightmare involving Arthur and another Questing Beast and lots of blood, blood, blood. He woke before the end and wonders if Arthur dies and then decides quickly that its better if he doesn’t know.
The slap reminds him of where he is and he bows his head, “Yes, sir?”
“Wrists first, idiot,” the burly man growls, gripping Merlin’s hand tight to unlock the shackles, “First show of the night.”
“No,” Merlin says without thinking, without remembering that this master is not as nice as his last.
Merlin expects this slap, doesn’t even flinch as his skin burns, “Sorry, sir.”
“Ye’ better be, fucking moron. Get your shit, you’re on in five.”
Merlin follows him up the stairs and thinks of death.
--
On stage, the fire dances across his fingers forming pictures in the sky; pictures of great warriors fighting dragons, of unicorns galloping through fields of golden grass, of beautiful princes in high thrones.
He wonders if Arthur thinks of him, wonders if Arthur cared that his - most useless ever, Merlin - manservant is gone, has been gone for months.
He wonders if Arthur will remember who Merlin was; will love him as Merlin, not just a sorcerer.
The fire burns out against his cool palms and Merlin wishes Arthur could feel it.
--
Merlin does do well with the audience that night and knows he will be in The Duel. He’s not scared, not after months of being here, of twenty different duels; after twenty different dead men.
If Arthur were here, saw the murderer that Merlin had become, sweet, innocent - you’re beautiful- Merlin, Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to kill Merlin himself.
Merlin is a monster who’s been caged.
--
The Duel is a large field of dirt in the middle of a thick forest of trees. Merlin and the other wizard, Darion, are pulled by their chains to their separate ends of the battle ground. They wait sullenly as they’re unleashed and the crowd files in.
The audience is gearing up for a fight, and Merlin already feels nauseous. Merlin believes in his ability to win, believes in his magic. That’s what scares him the most.
The fight starts as Darion raises a hand, magic tearing through the land but Merlin’s ready for it. Darion’s spell bounces off the shield Merlin casts. Darion isn’t quite as lucky, blood pouring from the wound on his left arm. He makes a small grunt, gripping the cut tightly. Merlin takes his chance, wants it done quickly, and raises his hand quickly, fire erupting.
Darion screams as he is engulfed in flames. The smell of burning flesh raises high in the air as everyone cheers and Merlin bends at the waist, bile rising in his throat. This part is always the worst, applauds reaching his ears as another human burns.
--
The walk back is quiet, minus the sounds of Merlin’s chains clinking together. This night, he hears hooves pounding across the grass. He doesn’t turn, waits, even as he hears his name called from behind them. He can’t believe it, can’t believe that he is saved.
The men stop, turn and scream in anger. The one holding his chains pulls him onto the horse, speeding up as if he was getting away. They break from the woods into another clearing, Arthur pushing forward from the other side. Arthur wastes no time, charging forward with his sword raised and Merlin throws himself to the ground, chain catching around his neck. Merlin’s vision blurs of dark green and blue as he’s dragged behind the horse. The last thing he hears is Arthur’s yell as he fades out.
--
Merlin wakes in Arthur’s chambers, still groggy and light headed. He blinks slowly, becoming more aware of the soft mumbling being made from his bedside. The mumbling becomes words as Arthur’s bowed head comes into view. Arthur’s stream of I’m sorry, I’m sorry Merlin, I’m so sorry follows him into sleep.
--
The next time he wakes, Gaius is at his bedside. Merlin tries to slow his breathing, act as if he’s sleeping, but he’s scared, doesn’t know how to act any longer.
“Merlin,” his breathing picks up once again, throat closing as tears rise in his eyes. “Oh, Merlin,” and it explodes, sobs wracking his body as he remembers everything.
Gaius pulls him in close, Merlin holding just as tight. He wishes Arthur was here, Arthur to hold and only sobs harder.
--
Merlin doesn’t see Arthur again until he returns to work the following week. He barely Merlin a glance, “Attend to the chamberpots,” as he leaves.
Merlin cleans everything without using magic by the time Arthur returns. He doesn’t look at Merlin, but Merlin looks at him. He sees the tension in Arthur’s shoulders, the line of his body as he dismisses Merlin.
--
It continues for weeks, Arthur looking everywhere but at Merlin and Merlin staring at Arthur’s back.
Merlin doesn’t say a thing, just watches and waits.
--
Arthur makes his move a month after Merlin was rescued. Merlin is waiting for his dismissal that never comes. Arthur stares back with a dark intensity, “Merlin.”
He moves slowly closer, and Merlin breath hitches as Arthur stops directly in front of him, before pulling him into a harsh hug. Merlin returns it, body sagging in relief at Arthur’s acceptance.
He remembers burning flesh and harsh words and chains that bind. He remembers jeers and blood and the hopelessness. Merlin will always remember.
But Arthur still holds him close as he cries, still tells him it’s okay, still says Merlin with an exasperated fondness. Arthur still remembers that Merlin is not a monster.
Arthurs reminds Merlin that he is human.