storm (merlin, gwen)
Title: storm
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairing: Merlin, Gwen with other cameos (fairly gen, with some Arthur/Gwen, Merlin/Morgana)
Rating: PG
Prompt: #03 - a flash of lightning @ story_lottery
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show, characters, etc.
Spoilers: Everything up to 2.04. This is set some months later.
Summary: he cannot shake the feeling that something is rumbling underneath the surface
Author’s Note: This is kind of a weird in-between fic that isn’t quite future!fic but on the same path. Thanks go out to sophieisgod for making it suck less.
On the first day, there is a crackle in the air.
Merlin is making as much use of his temporary reprieve from work as he can by reading his spell book, before Arthur and Gaius both return to the castle and inevitably find more for him to do. The noise from outside sounds remarkably like thunder, and yet when Merlin looks outside his window the skies are as bright a blue as he has ever laid eyes on, with no hint of storm in sight.
He would have brushed it aside if he hadn’t still been looking out the window when he heard the sound again, and noticed this time it was accompanied by the tiniest blip of grey in the sky. It appeared for less than a second, right in the middle of a snowy white cloud, and as soon as the noise was gone, so was the colour.
Merlin studies the skies carefully that day, as he goes about his work, but he doesn’t see or hear anything like it.
And yet, he cannot shake the feeling that something is rumbling underneath the surface, as if the sky was a curtain drawn across a window, and that something lay behind it, waiting to erupt.
*
On the second day, there is a flash of lightning.
Merlin and Gwen are both folding freshly laundered clothes and linens, none of which are their own. Merlin accidentally drops one of Arthur’s shirts and when bending down to pick it up, hears Gwen murmur.
“Yes?” he asks, returning to sit at the table opposite her.
Her face looks pondering as she replies, “Nothing. I just thought I saw lightning through the window.”
Merlin quickly glances over his shoulder to look out the window directly behind him. The sun shines brightly back at him. “Are you sure?”
“No, that’s what I was just wondering. It looked like lightning, but it must not have been. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.” Gwen smiles at him as she says it and he forces himself to smile back.
He diligently continues his work until Gwen is finished with hers, all the time resisting the urge to look behind him. He is paying enough attention when she wishes him goodbye to realise she has been telling him about the many things she has left to do, and Merlin finds himself offering to take Morgana’s linens to her when he takes Arthur’s so that Gwen will be able to get on with her other chores.
Gwen smiles slyly at him, but does nothing else to suggest she thinks he has anything less than the most honourable intentions at heart, and anyway, she is very busy so she graciously accepts his offer (although he has the distinct impression as she leaves that she is trying hard not to laugh).
When he does arrive outside Morgana’s chambers he wonders if he really thought things through. Although they have an understanding with one another, have shared glances during Uther’s many rants about magic, they have never actually talked about it openly since that time so long ago now, when she came back from the druids. Merlin has wanted to, but it is hard to speak about it without betraying himself, and if she has not felt the need to confide in him further, he is in no position to encourage her. And yet, it can be hard for Gaius to continually be his only confidante, especially when sometimes (like yesterday, when he told him about the cloud) Gaius is not keen to take the little suspicions seriously. But then, what would he even say?
A knock and gentle push on the door reveals the room is empty, and Merlin is almost relieved he can simply leave the linens and go without anyone knowing he was here, until Morgana enters through the open door.
“Merlin?”
His face turns red in spite of himself, knowing he has a perfectly valid reason to be there. “I, uh, Gwen asked me to drop off some of your things.”
“Thank you.”
Merlin continues to stand by her bedside awkwardly, as Morgana hovers by the open door. When he is still silent she adds, “Was there anything else?”
“Er, no. Bye.” He’s about to stumble past her, when he catches sight of the sky, blue and yellow shining brightly down on them. “Lovely weather today?” he offers suddenly.
“Yes, it’s very pleasant,” Morgana agrees.
Merlin nods, and leaves inwardly grimacing at both his inelegant manner and his initial decision to seek her out. Some things cannot be discussed, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.
*
On the third day, it starts to rain.
Gwen tentatively puts a hand out from under the cover of the stables to test the waters, and her fingers are soaked instantly. She wipes the hand down the side of her dress, having disposed of her apron in the kitchens when she finished her work. Her day is over, but going home now appears more difficult than she had expected.
She does not mind a little rain, but the droplets are thick and heavy and even the short walk to her house will be enough for the rain to seep right through to her skin. Gwen tugs at the edges of her thin purple cloak, pulling them to meet in front of her. It will not keep her half dry in this weather, but if she keeps it closed tight and walks fast perhaps she will not be too wet.
Besides, it is not as if she has much choice. She knows Morgana would have gladly let her stay in her chambers were she to ask, but her mistress had already gone to bed long ago, and as she was still had trouble sleeping at night (although she had been denying it for months) Gwen was loathe to disturb her when she was resting.
She is pulling her hood up in preparation when Merlin comes stumbling down the stairs and into the stables, a weary sigh on his lips.
He brightens when she greets him. “Gwen! You’re not about to go out in this rain, are you?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Arthur is. I have to prepare his horse.”
She’s spent what feels like a lifetime not asking questions (the one thing required of a truly good servant) but she finds this time she must bite her lip to prevent the words from spilling out. It is not a good sign. Gwen offers Merlin a smile and composes herself before she speaks, answering his earlier question. “I must go home.”
“Of course, but it’s awful out there Gwen, and it hasn’t let up at all since it started this morning. To be honest, I think it’s gotten worse. You could even fall ill.”
“I don’t have much other choice, Merlin,” she pointed out. “And it’s not far at all.”
“You’re always welcome to stay with me and Gaius.”
“That’s very kind of you, but you don’t have the space.”
“Of course we do.”
Gwen is shaking her head, but before she can respond further a voice calls from the top of the stairs. “Merlin! Is my horse ready?”
Although Merlin had been harnessing the horse while speaking to Gwen, he had hardly doing the movements quickly. Making a face, he quickly sped up his actions. “Not yet. I just got down here.”
Footsteps echo down the passageway as Arthur retorts, “I hardly think so. You’ve had more than enough time to…Guinevere.”
“Sire.”
A few beats pass, the only noise being Merlin’s actions. Noticing Gwen’s proximity to the door, Arthur finally says, “You are not going out in the rain?”
It is more irritating than when Merlin asked the question, once again assuming the negative. At least Merlin is her friend. She had once hoped she could say the same of Arthur, but ever since that day, they barely speak. “Indeed, I am,” she declares. Merlin looks up from saddling the horse, as if he wants to continue their previous line of conversation, but she speaks before he can. “I should be off before the rain grows heavier.”
She does not wait for their replies, only wishes them goodnight before turning on her heel and racing out, her hood up, but without remembering to hold her cloak closed.
Gwen is soaked through and shivering before she’s even left the courtyard of the castle, and as she runs the rest of the way to her house, she prays she will not have to go through this again tomorrow.
*
The next day the storm is worse, thunder and lightening making frequent appearances all throughout the day.
On leaving her house in the morning, Gwen has just about prepared herself for the onslaught, clutching her thin cloak, still damp from last night, when she opens the door to leave and discovers a package. The overhanging roof has kept it mainly dry, aside from a few faded patches, probably hit by water droplets in the delivery. Gwen picks it up, and takes the package back inside, laying it on the dining table before she removes the loosely wrapped paper to discover a bolt of blue cloth.
Picking up the garment she discovers it is actually a cloak, soft and, more importantly in this weather, thick. She has seen many similar cloaks, but nearly all from having to clean them.
Her feet are still soaked through her shoes by the time she reaches the castle, which makes a strange squelching sound as she walks, not to mention the uncomfortable feeling, but the rest of her is dry, which is more than she can say for any of the other servants who do not live in the castle.
Gwen is feeling a little guilty and does her best to avoid looking at one of the cooks, who is dripping water everywhere in the kitchen, as she prepares Morgana’s breakfast tray when Merlin enters to do the same for Arthur. Surprised but pleased at her ability to escape the harsh weather (she says her cloak is tougher than it seems), he lets slip that Arthur was not quite as lucky.
“Uther had told him he couldn’t come back until he had found some man who had apparently been seen living with the druids once so of course Arthur wouldn’t come back until he found and spoke to that man, but it took a few hours as it was just him and Sir Leon that went, and he’s fallen ill now. Not that seriously, but I don’t think he’s going to be able to do much today - that’s going to be fun. And after this I’ve got to help Gaius prepare a remedy for Arthur, and then attend to Sir Leon because he’s taken ill as well, although not as bad as Arthur. Then, I’ve got to see to the horses, because they looked bad when they came back last too - and all that is before lunch.”
“Sounds like a busy day,” Gwen says gently when Merlin has finished his ramblings. When he shakes his head glumly, she adds, “I can help if you like. I have almost finished Morgana’s tray…I could do the same for Arthur, and take it to him as well.”
“Really? That’d be great,” is his immediate grateful reply. It is only as he is leaving that a knowing smile lights up his features.
Gwen is too busy concentrating on ignoring him and doing her work (in that order) to notice it fall when he looks out the window and sees the sky growing blacker by the second.
*
On the fifth day, Merlin is by himself, doing his best to clean Gaius’ leech tank before he returns, when he hears a voice in his head. It is not the Dragon, it is not the little druid boy, and he is certainly not imagining it. But it is too quiet to decipher…It is not calling out to him, it is not speaking to anyone: the voice is thinking.
It takes him a moment longer to realise the voice is female.
He races through the castle faster than he should, as he has no excuse ready were someone to stop him and ask where he is rushing to, but the understanding is too fresh for him to consider things like the consequences right now.
When he reaches Morgana’s chambers, he forgets he is supposed to wait between the perfunctory knock and opening the door, but she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the difference. Devastation lines her face as the open window she stares out of breathes wind and water onto them.
She is waiting for him to speak first, and although he searches his mind for the right words to say, the ones that leave him are those that have played on his mind since he saw the spark. “It’s magic, isn’t it?”
Her eyes grow hard despite the sadness they hold when she answers, “I cannot make it stop,” clearly horrified.
He cannot tell her that what scares him more is that he doesn’t know if he can either.
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairing: Merlin, Gwen with other cameos (fairly gen, with some Arthur/Gwen, Merlin/Morgana)
Rating: PG
Prompt: #03 - a flash of lightning @ story_lottery
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show, characters, etc.
Spoilers: Everything up to 2.04. This is set some months later.
Summary: he cannot shake the feeling that something is rumbling underneath the surface
Author’s Note: This is kind of a weird in-between fic that isn’t quite future!fic but on the same path. Thanks go out to sophieisgod for making it suck less.
On the first day, there is a crackle in the air.
Merlin is making as much use of his temporary reprieve from work as he can by reading his spell book, before Arthur and Gaius both return to the castle and inevitably find more for him to do. The noise from outside sounds remarkably like thunder, and yet when Merlin looks outside his window the skies are as bright a blue as he has ever laid eyes on, with no hint of storm in sight.
He would have brushed it aside if he hadn’t still been looking out the window when he heard the sound again, and noticed this time it was accompanied by the tiniest blip of grey in the sky. It appeared for less than a second, right in the middle of a snowy white cloud, and as soon as the noise was gone, so was the colour.
Merlin studies the skies carefully that day, as he goes about his work, but he doesn’t see or hear anything like it.
And yet, he cannot shake the feeling that something is rumbling underneath the surface, as if the sky was a curtain drawn across a window, and that something lay behind it, waiting to erupt.
*
On the second day, there is a flash of lightning.
Merlin and Gwen are both folding freshly laundered clothes and linens, none of which are their own. Merlin accidentally drops one of Arthur’s shirts and when bending down to pick it up, hears Gwen murmur.
“Yes?” he asks, returning to sit at the table opposite her.
Her face looks pondering as she replies, “Nothing. I just thought I saw lightning through the window.”
Merlin quickly glances over his shoulder to look out the window directly behind him. The sun shines brightly back at him. “Are you sure?”
“No, that’s what I was just wondering. It looked like lightning, but it must not have been. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.” Gwen smiles at him as she says it and he forces himself to smile back.
He diligently continues his work until Gwen is finished with hers, all the time resisting the urge to look behind him. He is paying enough attention when she wishes him goodbye to realise she has been telling him about the many things she has left to do, and Merlin finds himself offering to take Morgana’s linens to her when he takes Arthur’s so that Gwen will be able to get on with her other chores.
Gwen smiles slyly at him, but does nothing else to suggest she thinks he has anything less than the most honourable intentions at heart, and anyway, she is very busy so she graciously accepts his offer (although he has the distinct impression as she leaves that she is trying hard not to laugh).
When he does arrive outside Morgana’s chambers he wonders if he really thought things through. Although they have an understanding with one another, have shared glances during Uther’s many rants about magic, they have never actually talked about it openly since that time so long ago now, when she came back from the druids. Merlin has wanted to, but it is hard to speak about it without betraying himself, and if she has not felt the need to confide in him further, he is in no position to encourage her. And yet, it can be hard for Gaius to continually be his only confidante, especially when sometimes (like yesterday, when he told him about the cloud) Gaius is not keen to take the little suspicions seriously. But then, what would he even say?
A knock and gentle push on the door reveals the room is empty, and Merlin is almost relieved he can simply leave the linens and go without anyone knowing he was here, until Morgana enters through the open door.
“Merlin?”
His face turns red in spite of himself, knowing he has a perfectly valid reason to be there. “I, uh, Gwen asked me to drop off some of your things.”
“Thank you.”
Merlin continues to stand by her bedside awkwardly, as Morgana hovers by the open door. When he is still silent she adds, “Was there anything else?”
“Er, no. Bye.” He’s about to stumble past her, when he catches sight of the sky, blue and yellow shining brightly down on them. “Lovely weather today?” he offers suddenly.
“Yes, it’s very pleasant,” Morgana agrees.
Merlin nods, and leaves inwardly grimacing at both his inelegant manner and his initial decision to seek her out. Some things cannot be discussed, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.
*
On the third day, it starts to rain.
Gwen tentatively puts a hand out from under the cover of the stables to test the waters, and her fingers are soaked instantly. She wipes the hand down the side of her dress, having disposed of her apron in the kitchens when she finished her work. Her day is over, but going home now appears more difficult than she had expected.
She does not mind a little rain, but the droplets are thick and heavy and even the short walk to her house will be enough for the rain to seep right through to her skin. Gwen tugs at the edges of her thin purple cloak, pulling them to meet in front of her. It will not keep her half dry in this weather, but if she keeps it closed tight and walks fast perhaps she will not be too wet.
Besides, it is not as if she has much choice. She knows Morgana would have gladly let her stay in her chambers were she to ask, but her mistress had already gone to bed long ago, and as she was still had trouble sleeping at night (although she had been denying it for months) Gwen was loathe to disturb her when she was resting.
She is pulling her hood up in preparation when Merlin comes stumbling down the stairs and into the stables, a weary sigh on his lips.
He brightens when she greets him. “Gwen! You’re not about to go out in this rain, are you?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Arthur is. I have to prepare his horse.”
She’s spent what feels like a lifetime not asking questions (the one thing required of a truly good servant) but she finds this time she must bite her lip to prevent the words from spilling out. It is not a good sign. Gwen offers Merlin a smile and composes herself before she speaks, answering his earlier question. “I must go home.”
“Of course, but it’s awful out there Gwen, and it hasn’t let up at all since it started this morning. To be honest, I think it’s gotten worse. You could even fall ill.”
“I don’t have much other choice, Merlin,” she pointed out. “And it’s not far at all.”
“You’re always welcome to stay with me and Gaius.”
“That’s very kind of you, but you don’t have the space.”
“Of course we do.”
Gwen is shaking her head, but before she can respond further a voice calls from the top of the stairs. “Merlin! Is my horse ready?”
Although Merlin had been harnessing the horse while speaking to Gwen, he had hardly doing the movements quickly. Making a face, he quickly sped up his actions. “Not yet. I just got down here.”
Footsteps echo down the passageway as Arthur retorts, “I hardly think so. You’ve had more than enough time to…Guinevere.”
“Sire.”
A few beats pass, the only noise being Merlin’s actions. Noticing Gwen’s proximity to the door, Arthur finally says, “You are not going out in the rain?”
It is more irritating than when Merlin asked the question, once again assuming the negative. At least Merlin is her friend. She had once hoped she could say the same of Arthur, but ever since that day, they barely speak. “Indeed, I am,” she declares. Merlin looks up from saddling the horse, as if he wants to continue their previous line of conversation, but she speaks before he can. “I should be off before the rain grows heavier.”
She does not wait for their replies, only wishes them goodnight before turning on her heel and racing out, her hood up, but without remembering to hold her cloak closed.
Gwen is soaked through and shivering before she’s even left the courtyard of the castle, and as she runs the rest of the way to her house, she prays she will not have to go through this again tomorrow.
*
The next day the storm is worse, thunder and lightening making frequent appearances all throughout the day.
On leaving her house in the morning, Gwen has just about prepared herself for the onslaught, clutching her thin cloak, still damp from last night, when she opens the door to leave and discovers a package. The overhanging roof has kept it mainly dry, aside from a few faded patches, probably hit by water droplets in the delivery. Gwen picks it up, and takes the package back inside, laying it on the dining table before she removes the loosely wrapped paper to discover a bolt of blue cloth.
Picking up the garment she discovers it is actually a cloak, soft and, more importantly in this weather, thick. She has seen many similar cloaks, but nearly all from having to clean them.
Her feet are still soaked through her shoes by the time she reaches the castle, which makes a strange squelching sound as she walks, not to mention the uncomfortable feeling, but the rest of her is dry, which is more than she can say for any of the other servants who do not live in the castle.
Gwen is feeling a little guilty and does her best to avoid looking at one of the cooks, who is dripping water everywhere in the kitchen, as she prepares Morgana’s breakfast tray when Merlin enters to do the same for Arthur. Surprised but pleased at her ability to escape the harsh weather (she says her cloak is tougher than it seems), he lets slip that Arthur was not quite as lucky.
“Uther had told him he couldn’t come back until he had found some man who had apparently been seen living with the druids once so of course Arthur wouldn’t come back until he found and spoke to that man, but it took a few hours as it was just him and Sir Leon that went, and he’s fallen ill now. Not that seriously, but I don’t think he’s going to be able to do much today - that’s going to be fun. And after this I’ve got to help Gaius prepare a remedy for Arthur, and then attend to Sir Leon because he’s taken ill as well, although not as bad as Arthur. Then, I’ve got to see to the horses, because they looked bad when they came back last too - and all that is before lunch.”
“Sounds like a busy day,” Gwen says gently when Merlin has finished his ramblings. When he shakes his head glumly, she adds, “I can help if you like. I have almost finished Morgana’s tray…I could do the same for Arthur, and take it to him as well.”
“Really? That’d be great,” is his immediate grateful reply. It is only as he is leaving that a knowing smile lights up his features.
Gwen is too busy concentrating on ignoring him and doing her work (in that order) to notice it fall when he looks out the window and sees the sky growing blacker by the second.
*
On the fifth day, Merlin is by himself, doing his best to clean Gaius’ leech tank before he returns, when he hears a voice in his head. It is not the Dragon, it is not the little druid boy, and he is certainly not imagining it. But it is too quiet to decipher…It is not calling out to him, it is not speaking to anyone: the voice is thinking.
It takes him a moment longer to realise the voice is female.
He races through the castle faster than he should, as he has no excuse ready were someone to stop him and ask where he is rushing to, but the understanding is too fresh for him to consider things like the consequences right now.
When he reaches Morgana’s chambers, he forgets he is supposed to wait between the perfunctory knock and opening the door, but she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the difference. Devastation lines her face as the open window she stares out of breathes wind and water onto them.
She is waiting for him to speak first, and although he searches his mind for the right words to say, the ones that leave him are those that have played on his mind since he saw the spark. “It’s magic, isn’t it?”
Her eyes grow hard despite the sadness they hold when she answers, “I cannot make it stop,” clearly horrified.
He cannot tell her that what scares him more is that he doesn’t know if he can either.