Merlin snippet: Perpetual Astonishment
Title: Perpetual Astonishment
Rating: PG
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 576
Summary: On the first day of spring, Uther sees
Notes: Thanks to snglesrvngfrend for making me do this (in the awesome way, not the arm-held-behind-your-back way). Prompts of "Uther" and "dinner."
Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment.
-Ellis Peters
When Uther awakes, it is to a starburst of spring sun across his face. He has not slept this late since he was lazy with his young love, sprawled across sheets that smelled like a woman. It should depress him, but the sun has melted Uther’s sadness into something liquid and warm.
Once he’s become accustomed to it, Uther lets the sun lead him out of his bed and to the window. The grounds are clean of snow, and even though the grass is no longer living the sun drenches it until the brown of it glistens.
Uther feels the way the grass looks, old turned new.
A servant enters, and Uther catches him half-bowed.
“Where is my son?”
The bow stutters and the servant bobs like a reed in the wind. It takes him long enough to answer that Uther knows it has been far too long since he cared after his son’s activities. Uther has been low this winter, and Arthur was somehow the first thing to slip out of his grasp.
“I believe he is dining in his chambers, sire.”
“Good,” Uther says, and holds out his arms, ready to be dressed.
The entire castle is transformed by the sun, friendly and light. Even the air seems to dance as Uther strides down the corridors. He inhales deeply, wanting nothing more than to spend this day with his son, relearning Arthur’s strength and presence at his side.
Ahead, the door to Arthur’s chambers is not closed, but the gap is small. Uther’s first through is to turn away, but his second thought wins out: See him, your boy.
Uther looks.
Arthur is sitting at the table in the front room, plethora of serving dishes in front of him, amused look on his face. Dining, just like he’s supposed to be. That servant boy, the one with dark hair and the mental affliction-Merlin-is across the table, tapping a rhythm on the empty wood of his side. Arthur cocks his head to the side, listening carefully before he raps out a matching beat, the metal of his ring deepening the round. And because he’s Arthur, he embellishes the ending, three extra taps to make Merlin grin.
Uther watches his son laugh, head tilted back, his joy full and genuine. When he finishes, it mellows into a grin like Merlin’s, and Arthur murmurs something, stirring his soup but watching the other side of the table.
Merlin turns red, and covers his face, but by now, even Uther knows what that smile looks like. He’s unable to hear Merlin’s response, but knows he makes one by what happens to Arthur.
Arthur does not reach out, does not press his fingers to Merlin’s wrist or his thin red cheek. But his eyes soften in a way Uther saw only once, when a magic girl draped her gauzy spell across them until his son couldn’t see anything but her.
Merlin sees the look, and he smiles, head half-ducked, aware of the weight of Arthur’s love. Arthur smiles back.
He leans forward, rising across the table, hands pressed palm-flat to the solid wood between the serving dishes. Merlin doesn’t move, other than to tilt his head to the side, his mouth already parted, readying himself for a duty Uther never knew. Arthur is moving very slowly, but he is moving, balancing more and more on his knees, belly almost touching the table’s edge, closer, closer-
Uther looks away.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 576
Summary: On the first day of spring, Uther sees
Notes: Thanks to snglesrvngfrend for making me do this (in the awesome way, not the arm-held-behind-your-back way). Prompts of "Uther" and "dinner."
Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment.
-Ellis Peters
When Uther awakes, it is to a starburst of spring sun across his face. He has not slept this late since he was lazy with his young love, sprawled across sheets that smelled like a woman. It should depress him, but the sun has melted Uther’s sadness into something liquid and warm.
Once he’s become accustomed to it, Uther lets the sun lead him out of his bed and to the window. The grounds are clean of snow, and even though the grass is no longer living the sun drenches it until the brown of it glistens.
Uther feels the way the grass looks, old turned new.
A servant enters, and Uther catches him half-bowed.
“Where is my son?”
The bow stutters and the servant bobs like a reed in the wind. It takes him long enough to answer that Uther knows it has been far too long since he cared after his son’s activities. Uther has been low this winter, and Arthur was somehow the first thing to slip out of his grasp.
“I believe he is dining in his chambers, sire.”
“Good,” Uther says, and holds out his arms, ready to be dressed.
The entire castle is transformed by the sun, friendly and light. Even the air seems to dance as Uther strides down the corridors. He inhales deeply, wanting nothing more than to spend this day with his son, relearning Arthur’s strength and presence at his side.
Ahead, the door to Arthur’s chambers is not closed, but the gap is small. Uther’s first through is to turn away, but his second thought wins out: See him, your boy.
Uther looks.
Arthur is sitting at the table in the front room, plethora of serving dishes in front of him, amused look on his face. Dining, just like he’s supposed to be. That servant boy, the one with dark hair and the mental affliction-Merlin-is across the table, tapping a rhythm on the empty wood of his side. Arthur cocks his head to the side, listening carefully before he raps out a matching beat, the metal of his ring deepening the round. And because he’s Arthur, he embellishes the ending, three extra taps to make Merlin grin.
Uther watches his son laugh, head tilted back, his joy full and genuine. When he finishes, it mellows into a grin like Merlin’s, and Arthur murmurs something, stirring his soup but watching the other side of the table.
Merlin turns red, and covers his face, but by now, even Uther knows what that smile looks like. He’s unable to hear Merlin’s response, but knows he makes one by what happens to Arthur.
Arthur does not reach out, does not press his fingers to Merlin’s wrist or his thin red cheek. But his eyes soften in a way Uther saw only once, when a magic girl draped her gauzy spell across them until his son couldn’t see anything but her.
Merlin sees the look, and he smiles, head half-ducked, aware of the weight of Arthur’s love. Arthur smiles back.
He leans forward, rising across the table, hands pressed palm-flat to the solid wood between the serving dishes. Merlin doesn’t move, other than to tilt his head to the side, his mouth already parted, readying himself for a duty Uther never knew. Arthur is moving very slowly, but he is moving, balancing more and more on his knees, belly almost touching the table’s edge, closer, closer-
Uther looks away.