[Fic] Crossover, Merlin/Arthur -- Celluloid Manifesto of Framed Elegance
Title: Celluloid Manifesto of Framed Elegance
Series: Doctor Who/Merlin
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for rudy_flamthrowa who prompted me with "Instead of hiding sorcery, Merlin is hiding that he's...."
A. A serial murderer
B. A lady
C. Time traveler
I chose Choice C and merged it with Doctor Who while I was at it.
The Doctor calls him Agent M, all laughing smiles and good nature, and Merlin mostly thinks the Doctor thinks he's funnier than he really is. He doesn't discover why the Doctor had been so full of good humor until the man grins at him, shoving him out of the TARDIS and into Camelot with a chirruped "See you in a couple years, have fun with Prince Arthur." And only then does he realize that he hadn't been named after the Merlin of the Arthurian legends, he was that particular Merlin.
He closes his eyes against blinding sun and thinks that Time Travel is such a bitch.
+
He spends the next few years forgetting the 51st century. The memory of buildings that scratch the sky and vehicles that defy the laws of gravity fade and blur until he's not even sure if his previous life had been real. He remembers the taste of gasoline in the air, of gray skies and a soiled planet and can't compare it to the crisp taste of the air here.
+
The Doctor has been busy crafting Merlin a life here, etching lies into the fabric of this unbelievable place. A woman named Hunith thinks that he is her son. When he presses her on the matter she smiles at him and says, "Merlin, dear. Don't you remember?" She talks of childhood memories and a little boy who turned his bathwater purple, of a boy named Will who hugs him tight, grinning as he insists that they're best friends.
+
Arthur is nothing like the legends. He's arrogant and smug and really, yes, he's kind of a prat. But he's also loyal, and Merlin knows that he cares for his subjects more than his father ever will. When Merlin saves Arthur's life from a witch bent on revenge, Arthur's skin is warm and real beneath his- breath coming in harsh pants against Merlin's neck as they both stagger back to their feet. He eyes Merlin over his father's shoulder and for just a moment there's wonder there, a curiosity that Merlin recognizes from when he'd first seen inside the TARDIS. When Uther shoves them together and declares Merlin's reward, the wonder flickers away like a desert mirage.
Merlin bites his lip to hold back a grin, makes himself remember the way the universe looks and wonders what Arthur would think of a star being born.
+
It's surprisingly hard to hide his secrets. Hiding the magic itself is difficult, because the 51st century had been an age of acceptance and love- the years when polygamy had boomed, when aliens didn't have to hide behind glamors, and when magicians were free to use magic wherever they liked. But hiding that he's not really from this time, that's much worse.
Arthur stares at him, eyes blue and confused when Merlin balks at doing up his armor. Merlin shudders and fiddles with the belts and buckles until Arthur takes pity on him and shows him how to do it, his own hands golden against his chain-mail. When he finishes, Merlin thinks that he has the hang of it. Maybe. Probably. But when Arthur looks at him again, calls him the worst manservant ever in a voice that is almost fond... well, Merlin forgets how to do the buckles up all over again.
+
Doing magic in the 51st century had never been this difficult. It was something that was inside of him, something curled brittle and unflinching within the marrow of his very bones, just something to amuse his mates with. Doing magic in Camelot is near impossible. It's worse when Gaius presses the book of magic on him, insists that he use it, and while yes, the book teaches him much it doesn't change the fact that he can do most of the spells with a single thought. That he's been able to do so since he was four years old.
It's harder to hide the hiss of magical words from the Prince, had been far easier when he could just gesture and things would fall into place. He glares a tree branch into compliance and watches as it topples on top of the bandit that had been ready to slit Arthur's throat. Arthur stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving on.
Merlin falls into step behind the Prince and wonders whether golden eyes or hissed incantations will be his downfall.
+
The dragon doesn't much care that he's a time traveler, it chuckles at him and indulgently presses for information about the future. Merlin happily speaks of his home and how by his time, humans will have touched all edges of the universe. The dragon smiles and laughs and for once isn't shrouded in mystery and intrigue. It's just as lonely as him, the last of it's kind.
Merlin gets to his feet and when he bids the dragon farewell he wonders when talking to 30 tonne dragons became the closest thing he has to home.
+
When Arthur finally discovers the truth about Merlin's magic it's because of a pissed off warlock that had made an attempt on the Prince's life and instead gotten the idiot manservant. The man had fumed sparks, drooled purple smoke like a rabid animal and when steel had pierced his gut he'd thrown Merlin's secret to the wind.
Afterward, Arthur had crouched above him, blood red and sticky-wet against golden hands. There was too much blood and Merlin had hissed things about ambulances and hospitals and how fuck, he could really go for some ibuprofen right about now while Arthur crouched there yelling for Gaius, his hand warm and steady twined together with Merlin's.
When he'd looked back at Merlin, his eyes were wide and worried and not scared or angry at all. The last thing Merlin heard before everything faded to black were the words It's okay. I don't care.
+
Arthur's kisses taste like sunshine, and his smiles like rain.
+
The Doctor comes back the year that Arthur is crowned King, and he's just the way that Merlin remembers him- in fact, for him it had probably been only five minutes. Upon closer inspection Merlin realizes that yes, that's the same bloody speck of dirt on the Doctor's cheek that had been there when he'd been pushed into Camelot that sunny spring day five years ago.
He's all smiles and cheerful greetings, "Hello, Agent M, how'd everything go?" and Merlin wants to hit him, but he's busy watching a crown being lowered over Arthur's head so he figures that violence can wait a minute.
+
The TARDIS beckons to them, and the yellow-green light glints off of Arthur's crown, plays over the curve of his lip and Merlin grins because he can already tell that the TARDIS likes him.
King Arthur has just been crowned King of Camelot. A door has been opened to new responsibilities and even more Assassination attempts, so Merlin stands with a hand outstretched and waits. Time-travel may be a bitch sometimes, but he figures that it can at least be counted on to get you home on time. Tomorrow and its responsibilities can wait.
+
(Turns out that Arthur thinks the birth of a star is breathtaking.)
Series: Doctor Who/Merlin
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for rudy_flamthrowa who prompted me with "Instead of hiding sorcery, Merlin is hiding that he's...."
A. A serial murderer
B. A lady
C. Time traveler
I chose Choice C and merged it with Doctor Who while I was at it.
The Doctor calls him Agent M, all laughing smiles and good nature, and Merlin mostly thinks the Doctor thinks he's funnier than he really is. He doesn't discover why the Doctor had been so full of good humor until the man grins at him, shoving him out of the TARDIS and into Camelot with a chirruped "See you in a couple years, have fun with Prince Arthur." And only then does he realize that he hadn't been named after the Merlin of the Arthurian legends, he was that particular Merlin.
He closes his eyes against blinding sun and thinks that Time Travel is such a bitch.
+
He spends the next few years forgetting the 51st century. The memory of buildings that scratch the sky and vehicles that defy the laws of gravity fade and blur until he's not even sure if his previous life had been real. He remembers the taste of gasoline in the air, of gray skies and a soiled planet and can't compare it to the crisp taste of the air here.
+
The Doctor has been busy crafting Merlin a life here, etching lies into the fabric of this unbelievable place. A woman named Hunith thinks that he is her son. When he presses her on the matter she smiles at him and says, "Merlin, dear. Don't you remember?" She talks of childhood memories and a little boy who turned his bathwater purple, of a boy named Will who hugs him tight, grinning as he insists that they're best friends.
+
Arthur is nothing like the legends. He's arrogant and smug and really, yes, he's kind of a prat. But he's also loyal, and Merlin knows that he cares for his subjects more than his father ever will. When Merlin saves Arthur's life from a witch bent on revenge, Arthur's skin is warm and real beneath his- breath coming in harsh pants against Merlin's neck as they both stagger back to their feet. He eyes Merlin over his father's shoulder and for just a moment there's wonder there, a curiosity that Merlin recognizes from when he'd first seen inside the TARDIS. When Uther shoves them together and declares Merlin's reward, the wonder flickers away like a desert mirage.
Merlin bites his lip to hold back a grin, makes himself remember the way the universe looks and wonders what Arthur would think of a star being born.
+
It's surprisingly hard to hide his secrets. Hiding the magic itself is difficult, because the 51st century had been an age of acceptance and love- the years when polygamy had boomed, when aliens didn't have to hide behind glamors, and when magicians were free to use magic wherever they liked. But hiding that he's not really from this time, that's much worse.
Arthur stares at him, eyes blue and confused when Merlin balks at doing up his armor. Merlin shudders and fiddles with the belts and buckles until Arthur takes pity on him and shows him how to do it, his own hands golden against his chain-mail. When he finishes, Merlin thinks that he has the hang of it. Maybe. Probably. But when Arthur looks at him again, calls him the worst manservant ever in a voice that is almost fond... well, Merlin forgets how to do the buckles up all over again.
+
Doing magic in the 51st century had never been this difficult. It was something that was inside of him, something curled brittle and unflinching within the marrow of his very bones, just something to amuse his mates with. Doing magic in Camelot is near impossible. It's worse when Gaius presses the book of magic on him, insists that he use it, and while yes, the book teaches him much it doesn't change the fact that he can do most of the spells with a single thought. That he's been able to do so since he was four years old.
It's harder to hide the hiss of magical words from the Prince, had been far easier when he could just gesture and things would fall into place. He glares a tree branch into compliance and watches as it topples on top of the bandit that had been ready to slit Arthur's throat. Arthur stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving on.
Merlin falls into step behind the Prince and wonders whether golden eyes or hissed incantations will be his downfall.
+
The dragon doesn't much care that he's a time traveler, it chuckles at him and indulgently presses for information about the future. Merlin happily speaks of his home and how by his time, humans will have touched all edges of the universe. The dragon smiles and laughs and for once isn't shrouded in mystery and intrigue. It's just as lonely as him, the last of it's kind.
Merlin gets to his feet and when he bids the dragon farewell he wonders when talking to 30 tonne dragons became the closest thing he has to home.
+
When Arthur finally discovers the truth about Merlin's magic it's because of a pissed off warlock that had made an attempt on the Prince's life and instead gotten the idiot manservant. The man had fumed sparks, drooled purple smoke like a rabid animal and when steel had pierced his gut he'd thrown Merlin's secret to the wind.
Afterward, Arthur had crouched above him, blood red and sticky-wet against golden hands. There was too much blood and Merlin had hissed things about ambulances and hospitals and how fuck, he could really go for some ibuprofen right about now while Arthur crouched there yelling for Gaius, his hand warm and steady twined together with Merlin's.
When he'd looked back at Merlin, his eyes were wide and worried and not scared or angry at all. The last thing Merlin heard before everything faded to black were the words It's okay. I don't care.
+
Arthur's kisses taste like sunshine, and his smiles like rain.
+
The Doctor comes back the year that Arthur is crowned King, and he's just the way that Merlin remembers him- in fact, for him it had probably been only five minutes. Upon closer inspection Merlin realizes that yes, that's the same bloody speck of dirt on the Doctor's cheek that had been there when he'd been pushed into Camelot that sunny spring day five years ago.
He's all smiles and cheerful greetings, "Hello, Agent M, how'd everything go?" and Merlin wants to hit him, but he's busy watching a crown being lowered over Arthur's head so he figures that violence can wait a minute.
+
The TARDIS beckons to them, and the yellow-green light glints off of Arthur's crown, plays over the curve of his lip and Merlin grins because he can already tell that the TARDIS likes him.
King Arthur has just been crowned King of Camelot. A door has been opened to new responsibilities and even more Assassination attempts, so Merlin stands with a hand outstretched and waits. Time-travel may be a bitch sometimes, but he figures that it can at least be counted on to get you home on time. Tomorrow and its responsibilities can wait.
+
(Turns out that Arthur thinks the birth of a star is breathtaking.)