Us
Title: Us
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairing(s): Arthur, Morgana, Uther
Rating: U
Warnings: (if any) None
Exact Word Count: 597
Where is canon does your story fit?: Before canon, when Morgana first comes to Camelot and she and Arthur are both kids
Arthur was awoken by the sound of crying. No, not crying, sobbing. Huge, uncontrolled, ugly sobs.
On silent feet, he slipped out of bed. The sobbing sounded female, but it wasn’t his nurse, who was snoring in front of the fire in the next room, one of his father’s huge hunting hounds asleep at her feet. The dog opened one eye as Arthur crept by, but it made no move to stop him.
The corridor was dark, cold and silent, and Arthur wished he’d stopped to put on more than just his night shirt. Following the sound, he went right, thankfully away from his father’s chambers.
The closer he got, he realised who it was. Her. In the two weeks since she’d come to live with them, he’d never seen her display any emotion other than anger, but it was definitely her. His hand rested on the door a moment, unsure if he should go in. He quietly turned the handle.
“Get out!” Her voice was angry, broken and raw from the crying. Her black curls in disarray about her shoulders as she sat, hunched up in the middle of the bed, her face a blotchy red mess of tears.
Still quiet, acting purely on instinct, Arthur shut the door and crossed the room, climbing up into the bed next to her. Then he put his arms around her and let her cry into his shoulder. She cried herself to sleep like that, although Arthur stayed awake long after.
The next morning, Arthur was rudely startled from his sleep by the sound of his own backside hitting the floor.
“I told you to get out,” was all Morgana said, not looking at him.
It was still dark, but a few servants were already up, giving him strange looks as he stumbled sleepily back to his own room.
Morgana went back to not talking to him after that; she was a big, important nine-year-old girl, and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with a small, annoying nearly-eight-year-old boy. They never spoke of the crying incident.
A few months later, the morning of Arthur’s eighth birthday, he knocked over a jug of water at the breakfast table. His father, never one known for his even temper, had been on the receiving end of most of the water and had been furious. How could any son of his be so useless, so clumsy! Such a disappointment. Uther’s rant looked set to continue for a long time.
Suddenly, standing between Arthur and Uther was a ball of fury that seemed to intimidate even Uther.
“You should not be so mean, Uncle Uther! It was an accident, he didn’t mean to knock it over! Why do you have to be so horrible? And it’s his birthday, and you haven’t even said happy birthday.” Morgana stood, hands on hips, and glared the most important and intimidating man in all the five kingdoms into submission.
Uther looked somewhat taken aback, he mouth opened and closed a few times but no sounds emerged. Arthur almost thought he was going to apologise. Almost.
When it became clear that no apology was to be forthcoming, Morgana turned to Arthur and grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the table.
“Come on.” She dragged Arthur across the room. He was certain he was going to be in the most fearful trouble.
Just before she pulled Arthur out of the door, she turned and leveled a malevolent glare at her benefactor. “Us doesn’t like you, Uncle Uther, does us, Arthur?”
Fortunately, Arthur had no time to answer.
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairing(s): Arthur, Morgana, Uther
Rating: U
Warnings: (if any) None
Exact Word Count: 597
Where is canon does your story fit?: Before canon, when Morgana first comes to Camelot and she and Arthur are both kids
Arthur was awoken by the sound of crying. No, not crying, sobbing. Huge, uncontrolled, ugly sobs.
On silent feet, he slipped out of bed. The sobbing sounded female, but it wasn’t his nurse, who was snoring in front of the fire in the next room, one of his father’s huge hunting hounds asleep at her feet. The dog opened one eye as Arthur crept by, but it made no move to stop him.
The corridor was dark, cold and silent, and Arthur wished he’d stopped to put on more than just his night shirt. Following the sound, he went right, thankfully away from his father’s chambers.
The closer he got, he realised who it was. Her. In the two weeks since she’d come to live with them, he’d never seen her display any emotion other than anger, but it was definitely her. His hand rested on the door a moment, unsure if he should go in. He quietly turned the handle.
“Get out!” Her voice was angry, broken and raw from the crying. Her black curls in disarray about her shoulders as she sat, hunched up in the middle of the bed, her face a blotchy red mess of tears.
Still quiet, acting purely on instinct, Arthur shut the door and crossed the room, climbing up into the bed next to her. Then he put his arms around her and let her cry into his shoulder. She cried herself to sleep like that, although Arthur stayed awake long after.
The next morning, Arthur was rudely startled from his sleep by the sound of his own backside hitting the floor.
“I told you to get out,” was all Morgana said, not looking at him.
It was still dark, but a few servants were already up, giving him strange looks as he stumbled sleepily back to his own room.
Morgana went back to not talking to him after that; she was a big, important nine-year-old girl, and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with a small, annoying nearly-eight-year-old boy. They never spoke of the crying incident.
A few months later, the morning of Arthur’s eighth birthday, he knocked over a jug of water at the breakfast table. His father, never one known for his even temper, had been on the receiving end of most of the water and had been furious. How could any son of his be so useless, so clumsy! Such a disappointment. Uther’s rant looked set to continue for a long time.
Suddenly, standing between Arthur and Uther was a ball of fury that seemed to intimidate even Uther.
“You should not be so mean, Uncle Uther! It was an accident, he didn’t mean to knock it over! Why do you have to be so horrible? And it’s his birthday, and you haven’t even said happy birthday.” Morgana stood, hands on hips, and glared the most important and intimidating man in all the five kingdoms into submission.
Uther looked somewhat taken aback, he mouth opened and closed a few times but no sounds emerged. Arthur almost thought he was going to apologise. Almost.
When it became clear that no apology was to be forthcoming, Morgana turned to Arthur and grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the table.
“Come on.” She dragged Arthur across the room. He was certain he was going to be in the most fearful trouble.
Just before she pulled Arthur out of the door, she turned and leveled a malevolent glare at her benefactor. “Us doesn’t like you, Uncle Uther, does us, Arthur?”
Fortunately, Arthur had no time to answer.