Merlin Fic: Different
Title: Different
Fandom: Merlin
Word Count: 1708
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Pretty much all of season one
Pairing: Can be read as Gen or Arthur/Merlin depending on the tint to your slash-goggles.
Author's Notes: Written for fandom_stocking last December. I just realized I never posted it to my LJ. Whoops.
Summary: "Perhaps when I am king things will be different. But I am not. For now I must bide my time and bite my tongue and so must you."
The battle had been fierce but brief. King Hengest’s men had been many in number, but not the best trained or battle tested. Merlin had gone out with Gaius to help tend to the injured knights and now was wishing sorely that he hadn’t.
No, that wasn’t true either. If he hadn’t been there, odds were very good that Arthur would have died.
Of course, now there was every chance that saving Arthur would mean his own death.
It was cold - it had been snowing for the better part of a day - but still Merlin huddled against the cold stones of the rampart wishing he’d had the sense at least to grab his leather coat or a warmer shirt.
He closed his eyes, seeing the scene over and over again in his mind. Four of Hengest’s knights cornering Arthur. Arthur’s lance at his side, a grim look on his face as he realized that even if he were to run through the one right in front of him, the others would have him down in moment. When the knight on Arthur’s far left raised his hand to signal the group to attack, Merlin had acted before he could think things through. In retrospect, that was nothing new. He really needed to be less impetuous before it was the death of him. Unless it was too late.
Lightning had split the sky, sending rocks and dirt flying up between Arthur and his opponents. The four green-clad knights were thrown from their horses - dead or unconscious, Merlin wasn’t sure - but Arthur remained seated and as soon as the air cleared, his eyes locked with Merlin’s.
Merlin had spent the rest of the battle hoping the look of shock on Arthur’s face was purely the relief of having been out of the unwinable situation, but he knew better.
Getting the wounded back to Camelot had been the next priority and throughout the clean-up Arthur hadn’t even looked at him. At least Merlin didn’t think he had. He found himself unwilling to look at Arthur.
Upon arrival at Camelot, Arthur had to report to his father and Merlin had to help Gaius with the wounded knights. Merlin shook as he performed his duties. Every time the door creaked or he heard footsteps behind him, he was sure it was the palace guards coming to take him to prison prior to his execution.
Now it was evening, many hours since the battle and they still hadn’t come for him. But neither had Arthur sent for him. He giggled a little hysterically at how grateful he’d be to hear that Arthur was enraged that Merlin wasn’t there to help him undress and to tend to his armor and sword, to stable his horse and bring him his dinner.
He looked through an arrowloop to the field below. The moon bounced off the snow allowing him to see the treeline in the distance. He wondered if Arthur were giving him time to make a run for it and if he was being a fool for squandering the chance.
And yet his body felt leaden. He couldn’t run from Arthur. From his fate, his destiny… He wondered if it was possible that someone had put a spell on him. Certainly something was robbing him of the sense of self-preservation that would have told a smarter man to run for all his worth, while he had the chance.
But he sat. Up on the rampart watching the snow, shivering in the cold.
“The odder you act, the more difficult it will be for us to keep this between us.”
Merlin jumped at the words, hearing the voice but not the words. He couldn’t remember ever being afraid of Arthur, and now the feeling made him sick.
Arthur, wrapped in a fur cloak under his read cape, dropped next to him. “Though sometimes I think the only thing that might get some people’s notice is if you were suddenly to act normal.”
Merlin huddled into his knees and stayed silent. What would happen to him now was entirely in Arthur’s hands. He found a small measure of peace in knowing that his fate was no longer in his control. Not that he wasn’t terrified that he’d be executed in the inner ward tomorrow, but there was no fight and no flight in him at the point. There was simply what Arthur decreed. And Merlin, quite suddenly, realized that he could accept whatever it was that Arthur decided.
“You lied to me.” Arthur’s voice was cold and quiet like the night settling around them.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered.
“It’s not that I don’t understand why, I suppose,” Arthur said after a long moment.
Merlin didn’t answer. There was nothing to say.
“How long have you been studying magic?” Arthur said after another silence.
Merlin sighed. It was a far more complicated question than Arthur realized. “I was born this way,” he finally answered. “There were just things I could do for as long as I can remember.”
Arthur’s only answer was a quiet, “Hm.”
Finally, Merlin reached a breaking point. He could accept Arthur’s decision, but he needed to know it. “Did you tell your father?” He turned his head to study Arthur in the moonlight. He needed to know. And he needed to know how - if at all - Arthur was affected by this.
“My father outlawed magic for good reason, Merlin,” Arthur told him. “People were using it for all kinds of evil and selfish purposes. We’ve seen what kind of damage people with magic do to us. Disease and dry wells and creatures that kill!”
Merlin fixed him with a cool stare. “But it can also be used for good. I’ve saved people - I saved you more times than you’ll ever know. I was the one who made Valiant’s snakes appear before he could use them to kill you. I was the one who brought up the wind in Ealdor. And I was the one who stopped those four knights from running you through! I’ve never caused harm to anyone!” Merlin buried his face in his knees, trying to wipe away the tears before they could freeze to his cheeks and deliberately ignoring the fact that it was entirely possible that he had killed several men in Ealdor and possibly caused harm a few times. But always in self-defense or in defense of Arthur or others. Never for selfish ends or personal gain. Had he done what he’d done with sword or mace he’d be hailed a hero. It was the epitome of unfair that he’d be beheaded for saving lives simply because of the method he’d used.
“I know,” Arthur said. “Not all that about the snakes and the wind, though I’m less surprised by that than I should be.” He paused and took several deep breaths before continuing, “Believe me all I’ve thought about tonight is trying to figure out how to reconcile the person I know you to be with the evilness I’ve been brought up to believe about all sorcerers.”
There was another silence. Merlin began shivering, finally feeling the cold and wet penetrating his shirt and pants.
“My father is a good king. He does everything for a purpose and usually a good one. But on occasion, strong feelings create a blind spot in him. I fear his loathing of magic is one of those blind spots. While his aim to keep magic out of Camelot is a good one, he fails to see that there are those outside of his domain who would study magic and use it against us. And that with his decree that none of his subjects know or use magic it gives our enemies a weapon we have no defense against.”
Merlin watched Arthur watch the moon as he spoke. “You don’t agree with him?”
“I have seen the damage caused to Camelot and our subjects by those who practice magic. And while I don’t know how to best balance the wishes of my father to keep all magic out to prevent the perverted uses of it and the sensible practice of having sorcerers on hand to combat those who would use such a power against us, I do think…” Arthur took another deep breath, well aware that what he was about to say could easily be construed as treason. “I do think that we are doing ourselves a disservice by not arming ourselves as completely as possible against any and all threats.”
Merlin’s face scrunched up as he tried to sort what Arthur was telling him. “So… you didn’t tell your father?” First things first. And first had to be whether or not he would live to see another sunset. Then he could work out the rest of what Arthur was telling him.
“No, I did not. But Merlin, you cannot be… reckless. Had another of my knights realized that you were the one to cause that storm, I could not have stopped them from reporting you. Should you ever get caught - “
“I know, I know,” Merlin said on a great sigh. His head spun from the relief.
“And you must understand that I am putting myself out for you. If my father does discover you, I will be executed for harboring a magician. Do you understand? Perhaps when I am king things will be different. But I am not. For now I must bide my time and bite my tongue and so must you.”
“I know,” Merlin said through teeth that chattered now.
Arthur rolled his eyes and removed his red cape. He dropped it somewhat unceremoniously over Merlin’s shoulders. “Of course you may catch your death sitting in the snow before we have to worry about my father.”
Even the thin fabric of Arthur’s red cloak brought blessed warmth and Merlin gave him a half-hearted grin.
“Come on, you need to warm up. And once you have, you can fetch my supper. And my sword and mail both need cleaning. And there are two holes in my pants now and…”
Merlin smiled as he took the hand Arthur extended to him. He let Arthur pull him to his feet. Thing would be different now, Merlin had no doubt, but sometimes different was better.
Fandom: Merlin
Word Count: 1708
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Pretty much all of season one
Pairing: Can be read as Gen or Arthur/Merlin depending on the tint to your slash-goggles.
Author's Notes: Written for fandom_stocking last December. I just realized I never posted it to my LJ. Whoops.
Summary: "Perhaps when I am king things will be different. But I am not. For now I must bide my time and bite my tongue and so must you."
The battle had been fierce but brief. King Hengest’s men had been many in number, but not the best trained or battle tested. Merlin had gone out with Gaius to help tend to the injured knights and now was wishing sorely that he hadn’t.
No, that wasn’t true either. If he hadn’t been there, odds were very good that Arthur would have died.
Of course, now there was every chance that saving Arthur would mean his own death.
It was cold - it had been snowing for the better part of a day - but still Merlin huddled against the cold stones of the rampart wishing he’d had the sense at least to grab his leather coat or a warmer shirt.
He closed his eyes, seeing the scene over and over again in his mind. Four of Hengest’s knights cornering Arthur. Arthur’s lance at his side, a grim look on his face as he realized that even if he were to run through the one right in front of him, the others would have him down in moment. When the knight on Arthur’s far left raised his hand to signal the group to attack, Merlin had acted before he could think things through. In retrospect, that was nothing new. He really needed to be less impetuous before it was the death of him. Unless it was too late.
Lightning had split the sky, sending rocks and dirt flying up between Arthur and his opponents. The four green-clad knights were thrown from their horses - dead or unconscious, Merlin wasn’t sure - but Arthur remained seated and as soon as the air cleared, his eyes locked with Merlin’s.
Merlin had spent the rest of the battle hoping the look of shock on Arthur’s face was purely the relief of having been out of the unwinable situation, but he knew better.
Getting the wounded back to Camelot had been the next priority and throughout the clean-up Arthur hadn’t even looked at him. At least Merlin didn’t think he had. He found himself unwilling to look at Arthur.
Upon arrival at Camelot, Arthur had to report to his father and Merlin had to help Gaius with the wounded knights. Merlin shook as he performed his duties. Every time the door creaked or he heard footsteps behind him, he was sure it was the palace guards coming to take him to prison prior to his execution.
Now it was evening, many hours since the battle and they still hadn’t come for him. But neither had Arthur sent for him. He giggled a little hysterically at how grateful he’d be to hear that Arthur was enraged that Merlin wasn’t there to help him undress and to tend to his armor and sword, to stable his horse and bring him his dinner.
He looked through an arrowloop to the field below. The moon bounced off the snow allowing him to see the treeline in the distance. He wondered if Arthur were giving him time to make a run for it and if he was being a fool for squandering the chance.
And yet his body felt leaden. He couldn’t run from Arthur. From his fate, his destiny… He wondered if it was possible that someone had put a spell on him. Certainly something was robbing him of the sense of self-preservation that would have told a smarter man to run for all his worth, while he had the chance.
But he sat. Up on the rampart watching the snow, shivering in the cold.
“The odder you act, the more difficult it will be for us to keep this between us.”
Merlin jumped at the words, hearing the voice but not the words. He couldn’t remember ever being afraid of Arthur, and now the feeling made him sick.
Arthur, wrapped in a fur cloak under his read cape, dropped next to him. “Though sometimes I think the only thing that might get some people’s notice is if you were suddenly to act normal.”
Merlin huddled into his knees and stayed silent. What would happen to him now was entirely in Arthur’s hands. He found a small measure of peace in knowing that his fate was no longer in his control. Not that he wasn’t terrified that he’d be executed in the inner ward tomorrow, but there was no fight and no flight in him at the point. There was simply what Arthur decreed. And Merlin, quite suddenly, realized that he could accept whatever it was that Arthur decided.
“You lied to me.” Arthur’s voice was cold and quiet like the night settling around them.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered.
“It’s not that I don’t understand why, I suppose,” Arthur said after a long moment.
Merlin didn’t answer. There was nothing to say.
“How long have you been studying magic?” Arthur said after another silence.
Merlin sighed. It was a far more complicated question than Arthur realized. “I was born this way,” he finally answered. “There were just things I could do for as long as I can remember.”
Arthur’s only answer was a quiet, “Hm.”
Finally, Merlin reached a breaking point. He could accept Arthur’s decision, but he needed to know it. “Did you tell your father?” He turned his head to study Arthur in the moonlight. He needed to know. And he needed to know how - if at all - Arthur was affected by this.
“My father outlawed magic for good reason, Merlin,” Arthur told him. “People were using it for all kinds of evil and selfish purposes. We’ve seen what kind of damage people with magic do to us. Disease and dry wells and creatures that kill!”
Merlin fixed him with a cool stare. “But it can also be used for good. I’ve saved people - I saved you more times than you’ll ever know. I was the one who made Valiant’s snakes appear before he could use them to kill you. I was the one who brought up the wind in Ealdor. And I was the one who stopped those four knights from running you through! I’ve never caused harm to anyone!” Merlin buried his face in his knees, trying to wipe away the tears before they could freeze to his cheeks and deliberately ignoring the fact that it was entirely possible that he had killed several men in Ealdor and possibly caused harm a few times. But always in self-defense or in defense of Arthur or others. Never for selfish ends or personal gain. Had he done what he’d done with sword or mace he’d be hailed a hero. It was the epitome of unfair that he’d be beheaded for saving lives simply because of the method he’d used.
“I know,” Arthur said. “Not all that about the snakes and the wind, though I’m less surprised by that than I should be.” He paused and took several deep breaths before continuing, “Believe me all I’ve thought about tonight is trying to figure out how to reconcile the person I know you to be with the evilness I’ve been brought up to believe about all sorcerers.”
There was another silence. Merlin began shivering, finally feeling the cold and wet penetrating his shirt and pants.
“My father is a good king. He does everything for a purpose and usually a good one. But on occasion, strong feelings create a blind spot in him. I fear his loathing of magic is one of those blind spots. While his aim to keep magic out of Camelot is a good one, he fails to see that there are those outside of his domain who would study magic and use it against us. And that with his decree that none of his subjects know or use magic it gives our enemies a weapon we have no defense against.”
Merlin watched Arthur watch the moon as he spoke. “You don’t agree with him?”
“I have seen the damage caused to Camelot and our subjects by those who practice magic. And while I don’t know how to best balance the wishes of my father to keep all magic out to prevent the perverted uses of it and the sensible practice of having sorcerers on hand to combat those who would use such a power against us, I do think…” Arthur took another deep breath, well aware that what he was about to say could easily be construed as treason. “I do think that we are doing ourselves a disservice by not arming ourselves as completely as possible against any and all threats.”
Merlin’s face scrunched up as he tried to sort what Arthur was telling him. “So… you didn’t tell your father?” First things first. And first had to be whether or not he would live to see another sunset. Then he could work out the rest of what Arthur was telling him.
“No, I did not. But Merlin, you cannot be… reckless. Had another of my knights realized that you were the one to cause that storm, I could not have stopped them from reporting you. Should you ever get caught - “
“I know, I know,” Merlin said on a great sigh. His head spun from the relief.
“And you must understand that I am putting myself out for you. If my father does discover you, I will be executed for harboring a magician. Do you understand? Perhaps when I am king things will be different. But I am not. For now I must bide my time and bite my tongue and so must you.”
“I know,” Merlin said through teeth that chattered now.
Arthur rolled his eyes and removed his red cape. He dropped it somewhat unceremoniously over Merlin’s shoulders. “Of course you may catch your death sitting in the snow before we have to worry about my father.”
Even the thin fabric of Arthur’s red cloak brought blessed warmth and Merlin gave him a half-hearted grin.
“Come on, you need to warm up. And once you have, you can fetch my supper. And my sword and mail both need cleaning. And there are two holes in my pants now and…”
Merlin smiled as he took the hand Arthur extended to him. He let Arthur pull him to his feet. Thing would be different now, Merlin had no doubt, but sometimes different was better.