Fic: Between Times
Sometime around two weeks ago I decided with the help of lunafenice to only communicate with the world through fic. Which basically means unless I finish the kitten!Merlin story that's been brewing in my head for a month, I will not be allowed to post anything but fic on this journal.
Or something.
Title: Between Times
Author: suaine aka the big dork
Summary: Two conversations about things unsaid.
Notes: This is an episode tag for Merlin 1x10 "The Moment of Truth".
Arthur sheathed his sword and patted himself down once more, checking the haphazard job he'd done with fitting himself. His armor was light and allowed for more mobility than was customary, but it was still almost impossible to put on without help. He could ask a servant, but then he would feel the lack of Merlin all the more keenly. It already throbbed under his skin, this undirected fear that Merlin might not come back - might not be able to.
Might not want to.
That thought gnawed at him. He turned, headed for the door and stopped short as he found Uther leaning against it, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Arthur squared his shoulders. If need be, he could fight his way out of the armory, though it was doubtful he'd make it out of the castle. Uther could throw guards at him until they overwhelmed him with sheer numbers and there was nothing to be gained by spending a fortnight in the dungeons.
“Father.”
Uther came closer, his steps soft, paying heed to the secrecy in which Arthur had shrouded himself. It surprised Arthur, took his footing right out from under him.
“Morgana has chosen to accompany Merlin and his mother.” Arthur's eyes widened. He'd guessed as much, though he hadn't been around to see them leave. Morgana had been itching for a fight. “You will go after them, I trust?”
Arthur blinked. “Father?”
Uther gestured for him to turn around and Arthur obeyed. Deft hands tugged at his armor, working out the kinks he couldn't reach. “I cannot send an army to defend Ealdor, you know that.”
Arthur nodded. This conversation had him at a loss, he didn't know what to expect and it tied his tongue into knots.
Uther sighed. “Kanan should be brought to justice. Go there and see what you can do.”
Arthur turned to face his father. “You let me go?”
Uther smiled, it made Arthur's chest hurt to see it. He'd felt like property for most of his life and had treated other people the same, and he'd vied for an expression like that. Pride. Love. He didn't know what to do with it now.
“I'm sending you to Ealdor. Make Camelot proud.” With that the King turned and left his son standing dumbfounded in the armory, grasping for words.
+
On the way back, Merlin stayed quiet and indrawn, his grief like a dark cloud around him. Arthur didn't know what words would snap him out of it, so he stayed silent and watched for signs of change. If he got worse, Arthur would have to do something drastic. He had a new weapon at his disposal now, the knowledge he had gained somewhere between killing Kanan and watching Will's body go up in flames.
Merlin's magic wasn't just tricks and mirrors. The few people who were found using magic within the realm of Uther's reign did so in a crude, unfinished manner - like children trying at writing for the first time. Merlin was eloquent, fluid, so much at ease with the power under his skin that it reminded Arthur of the way someone had once described Arthur's swordplay. Inborn. Natural.
Will had died to save Arthur's life and so he'd accepted the lies and the deceit. Merlin's voice telling him flat out that the magic wasn't his, that the moment of truth Morgana had interrupted was about Will, sounded so lost, so defeated, Arthur couldn't bring himself to force the issue. Maybe when they were back home safe and the pain had faded from Merlin's features, he'd be furious. Today the small betrayal just felt flat against the backdrop of Merlin's loss.
“You're awake?” Merlin sat down next to him, poking the fire with a stick.
Arthur shrugged. “Too much excitement the last couple of days. It does strange things to the body.”
Merlin said nothing for a long time, so long that Arthur began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It happened, sometimes, especially to people in shock: he'd seen it with a knight or two after a particularly gruesome battle. Merlin had the same despair about him.
Arthur bit down on the urge to apologize for his part in Will's death. The idea was ludicrous: Will had made his own choice and there was nothing Arthur could have done. Then again, part of him blamed himself. He'd turned his back on an opponent without checking if he was down for the count. His blood-fueled rage about the callous display of magic had made him careless and it had cost Will's life. It had almost cost his own life. It was too steep a price, especially for Merlin who'd lost a loved one.
Perversely, Arthur wondered if Merlin would choose Will over him if he'd had the chance.
“I think I was in love with him, long ago.”
Arthur stopped breathing for a moment. He'd expected this, felt it in every glance Will had shot at him, every word he'd spoken - a fierce jealousy that had burned bright hot on Arthur's skin. He could have set Will at ease with a couple of words, but the idea of Merlin in his bed, in his heart, had felt thrilling, the fantasy a bit too desirable. He'd delighted in making Will squirm a bit and that, too, added to his guilt. Will had thought Merlin liked him and Arthur had indulged the possibility.
“Hm,” he said, trying for non-committal. “He came back for you.”
Merlin hugged his knees to him, eyes on the fire, mind in the past. “I'm not even sure why he spent time with me. I said he was a troublemaker but he only ever got in trouble when he was with me. He'd always defend me...”
Arthur closed his eyes. The next words felt like ashes on his tongue. “I suppose he would feel safer standing up to people with his powers.”
Merlin's eyes widened almost comically, but there was nothing funny about the situation. Arthur felt weird forcing the lie, stretching it like pliant leather, waiting for it to break - wanting it to break with a satisfying snap.
Merlin's eyes looked golden in the fire-light. “I don't think it works like that.”
Arthur couldn't look at Merlin anymore; fixing his gaze somewhere across the fire, he turned the words over in his mind, desperate now to make this right. They had to come to some kind of equilibrium before they crossed the gates of Camelot once more.
“Did he tell you about his magic, or did you find out?” Poking the ant-hill. Poking until the truth spilled out. It could work. Somehow he felt it had to work, and now, if they were to salvage the relationship they'd begun to build.
Merlin's voice was completely flat when he spoke. “He... I found out. His father had drilled secrecy into him from birth. Don't tell, don't let anyone see, don't use your magic.”
“But he did, didn't he?”
Merlin had tears in his eyes, they shone with the reflection of the fire. “How could he not?” Merlin whispered but the pain had broken into his voice, taken over his face like an invading army. Arthur felt like a thug. “How could he not use something that was as much part of him as breathing? He couldn't deny the magic any more than he could deny a limb.”
Arthur broke, his voice going soft. He was no torturer, and he wouldn't put Merlin through any more of this pain. “It must have been hard.”
He looked at Merlin, into his eyes, willing him to understand what he now knew they couldn't say out loud. Merlin looked back, quiet, waiting, until something passed over his face. An epiphany maybe. And softly, ever so softly, he said: “Like rock.”
Arthur leaned his shoulder against Merlin's and let himself drift into a companionable silence. Of all the things unsaid between them “I know” seemed almost as hard to keep down as “I'm a sorcerer” and yet, just as hard to say.
+
Or something.
Title: Between Times
Author: suaine aka the big dork
Summary: Two conversations about things unsaid.
Notes: This is an episode tag for Merlin 1x10 "The Moment of Truth".
Arthur sheathed his sword and patted himself down once more, checking the haphazard job he'd done with fitting himself. His armor was light and allowed for more mobility than was customary, but it was still almost impossible to put on without help. He could ask a servant, but then he would feel the lack of Merlin all the more keenly. It already throbbed under his skin, this undirected fear that Merlin might not come back - might not be able to.
Might not want to.
That thought gnawed at him. He turned, headed for the door and stopped short as he found Uther leaning against it, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Arthur squared his shoulders. If need be, he could fight his way out of the armory, though it was doubtful he'd make it out of the castle. Uther could throw guards at him until they overwhelmed him with sheer numbers and there was nothing to be gained by spending a fortnight in the dungeons.
“Father.”
Uther came closer, his steps soft, paying heed to the secrecy in which Arthur had shrouded himself. It surprised Arthur, took his footing right out from under him.
“Morgana has chosen to accompany Merlin and his mother.” Arthur's eyes widened. He'd guessed as much, though he hadn't been around to see them leave. Morgana had been itching for a fight. “You will go after them, I trust?”
Arthur blinked. “Father?”
Uther gestured for him to turn around and Arthur obeyed. Deft hands tugged at his armor, working out the kinks he couldn't reach. “I cannot send an army to defend Ealdor, you know that.”
Arthur nodded. This conversation had him at a loss, he didn't know what to expect and it tied his tongue into knots.
Uther sighed. “Kanan should be brought to justice. Go there and see what you can do.”
Arthur turned to face his father. “You let me go?”
Uther smiled, it made Arthur's chest hurt to see it. He'd felt like property for most of his life and had treated other people the same, and he'd vied for an expression like that. Pride. Love. He didn't know what to do with it now.
“I'm sending you to Ealdor. Make Camelot proud.” With that the King turned and left his son standing dumbfounded in the armory, grasping for words.
+
On the way back, Merlin stayed quiet and indrawn, his grief like a dark cloud around him. Arthur didn't know what words would snap him out of it, so he stayed silent and watched for signs of change. If he got worse, Arthur would have to do something drastic. He had a new weapon at his disposal now, the knowledge he had gained somewhere between killing Kanan and watching Will's body go up in flames.
Merlin's magic wasn't just tricks and mirrors. The few people who were found using magic within the realm of Uther's reign did so in a crude, unfinished manner - like children trying at writing for the first time. Merlin was eloquent, fluid, so much at ease with the power under his skin that it reminded Arthur of the way someone had once described Arthur's swordplay. Inborn. Natural.
Will had died to save Arthur's life and so he'd accepted the lies and the deceit. Merlin's voice telling him flat out that the magic wasn't his, that the moment of truth Morgana had interrupted was about Will, sounded so lost, so defeated, Arthur couldn't bring himself to force the issue. Maybe when they were back home safe and the pain had faded from Merlin's features, he'd be furious. Today the small betrayal just felt flat against the backdrop of Merlin's loss.
“You're awake?” Merlin sat down next to him, poking the fire with a stick.
Arthur shrugged. “Too much excitement the last couple of days. It does strange things to the body.”
Merlin said nothing for a long time, so long that Arthur began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It happened, sometimes, especially to people in shock: he'd seen it with a knight or two after a particularly gruesome battle. Merlin had the same despair about him.
Arthur bit down on the urge to apologize for his part in Will's death. The idea was ludicrous: Will had made his own choice and there was nothing Arthur could have done. Then again, part of him blamed himself. He'd turned his back on an opponent without checking if he was down for the count. His blood-fueled rage about the callous display of magic had made him careless and it had cost Will's life. It had almost cost his own life. It was too steep a price, especially for Merlin who'd lost a loved one.
Perversely, Arthur wondered if Merlin would choose Will over him if he'd had the chance.
“I think I was in love with him, long ago.”
Arthur stopped breathing for a moment. He'd expected this, felt it in every glance Will had shot at him, every word he'd spoken - a fierce jealousy that had burned bright hot on Arthur's skin. He could have set Will at ease with a couple of words, but the idea of Merlin in his bed, in his heart, had felt thrilling, the fantasy a bit too desirable. He'd delighted in making Will squirm a bit and that, too, added to his guilt. Will had thought Merlin liked him and Arthur had indulged the possibility.
“Hm,” he said, trying for non-committal. “He came back for you.”
Merlin hugged his knees to him, eyes on the fire, mind in the past. “I'm not even sure why he spent time with me. I said he was a troublemaker but he only ever got in trouble when he was with me. He'd always defend me...”
Arthur closed his eyes. The next words felt like ashes on his tongue. “I suppose he would feel safer standing up to people with his powers.”
Merlin's eyes widened almost comically, but there was nothing funny about the situation. Arthur felt weird forcing the lie, stretching it like pliant leather, waiting for it to break - wanting it to break with a satisfying snap.
Merlin's eyes looked golden in the fire-light. “I don't think it works like that.”
Arthur couldn't look at Merlin anymore; fixing his gaze somewhere across the fire, he turned the words over in his mind, desperate now to make this right. They had to come to some kind of equilibrium before they crossed the gates of Camelot once more.
“Did he tell you about his magic, or did you find out?” Poking the ant-hill. Poking until the truth spilled out. It could work. Somehow he felt it had to work, and now, if they were to salvage the relationship they'd begun to build.
Merlin's voice was completely flat when he spoke. “He... I found out. His father had drilled secrecy into him from birth. Don't tell, don't let anyone see, don't use your magic.”
“But he did, didn't he?”
Merlin had tears in his eyes, they shone with the reflection of the fire. “How could he not?” Merlin whispered but the pain had broken into his voice, taken over his face like an invading army. Arthur felt like a thug. “How could he not use something that was as much part of him as breathing? He couldn't deny the magic any more than he could deny a limb.”
Arthur broke, his voice going soft. He was no torturer, and he wouldn't put Merlin through any more of this pain. “It must have been hard.”
He looked at Merlin, into his eyes, willing him to understand what he now knew they couldn't say out loud. Merlin looked back, quiet, waiting, until something passed over his face. An epiphany maybe. And softly, ever so softly, he said: “Like rock.”
Arthur leaned his shoulder against Merlin's and let himself drift into a companionable silence. Of all the things unsaid between them “I know” seemed almost as hard to keep down as “I'm a sorcerer” and yet, just as hard to say.
+