fic: Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 1/?
Title: Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 1/?
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: Currently G but no doubt this will drastically increase in later chapters
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 1
Summary: Merlin was in heaven, minding his own business, when he was told he was to become the guardian angel of Arthur Pendragon. Written for rane_ab’s Guardian Angel plot bunny.
Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly
Prologue
Merlin perched on top of the parapets and sighed. Since his arrival in Camelot’s courtyard, he had learnt two things: 1) that amorous pigeons were often of a mind to proposition anything with wings and 2) that Princes, in contrast to Princesses, tended not to walk around with tiaras on their heads and were therefore less readily identifiable. Merlin had tried scouting the castle chambers in the hope of hearing someone address a young man as “your highness” but he had been unsuccessful. All he had managed to do, was to happen upon King Uther as he was dressing - and that was a sight Merlin never wished to see again. Ever. Thank goodness mortals could not see guardian angels.
Of all the places to send him, it would have to be Camelot, wouldn’t it? The one place in all of Albion, where magic was punishable by death and was therefore the weapon of choice for all aspiring assassins and malcontents. Merlin was going to have his work cut out for him. Casting his eyes balefully across the castle grounds, Merlin’s gaze alighted on a young man in armour standing just outside the castle grounds. He made a rather striking picture. The sun was sparking off plate armour and sinking into hair the colour of sun-ripened wheat. If it wasn’t highly inappropriate for angels to have such thoughts Merlin would have quite fancied running his fingers through it. Or perhaps spend his evenings composing poetry to the young man’s tresses. It occurred to Merlin that the altitude of heaven might have addled his brains somewhat. Shuffling, Merlin focused his attention on the scene below him. The blonde young man was surrounded by a few loutish fellows and seemed to be addressing a hapless young lad who appeared to be carrying a table. Moments later it became clear that it was in fact a target, not a table, and that the young blonde man was throwing knives at it - whilst the hapless lad was still carrying the thing. Someone had to put a stop to this.
Standing up, Merlin made to soar swiftly down to where the group of men were standing. He spread his wings, leapt from the battlements, misjudged it all somewhat, and plummeted to Earth. He landed in a feathery heap at the bottom of the castle wall. Irritably, and with all the grace of a lame goose, Merlin got to his feet and brushed himself off. Choosing walking as the safest mode of transport, Merlin stalked off across the courtyard to where ‘the prat’ and his companions were still tormenting the other boy.
As the blonde prepared to hurl his final knife, Merlin tugged on a few metaphysical strings and sent the young man sprawling. His companions seemed torn between laughter and feigned ignorance. In the end they opted for the latter, allowing the blonde to reclaim his dignity as he pushed himself to his feet. He cast around for his dagger, only to find it lying several feet away under a small deposit of manure - an event Merlin knew absolutely nothing about. Merlin did not know whether to be disgusted or impressed as the man prepared to delve into the dug to retrieve his knife, when one of his companions stopped him.
“Allow me, my lord.”
Oh, so blondie must be a knight then. Figured. But, surely the other men were knights to - they all wore armour, carried swords - they were all reasonably well dressed. So why would they address this man in particular as ‘my lord’. The only reason they would do that was if -
No. No, no, no, no. Merlin thought fervently, as he looked the young man up in down. Please, not him. It can’t be him. He’s a prat. The blonde accepted the knife from the knight with a nod, and sheathed it. Merlin crossed his fingers and lodged a fervent prayer. The knight obviously took the nod to be a gesture of thanks.
“You’re welcome, Sire.”
Merlin swore.
A nearby tree was incinerated by an accidental lightening bolt.
***
As he followed the Prince back to his rooms, Merlin sulked. The prat’s name was apparently Arthur and his ego was the size of - something very large. Merlin kept having to resist the urge to trip the Prince as he was walking.
“Merlin?”
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning, he let out a cry of joy and launched himself at the young woman currently hovering a foot off the ground.
“Gwen!” The other angel looked torn between joy and mortification that Merlin had chosen to greet her in such a manner. Blushing, she gently extricated herself from his grip and followed as he continued to follow Arthur through the castle halls.
“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked excitedly. “Last I heard you were with a young woman in Eire.”
Gwen nodded. “The Lady Morgana. She is now the king’s ward.”
Merlin grinned. “Small world.” Gwen smiled beatifically.
“I should return to her side,” she said, already beginning to meld into the wall, “take care Merlin - and protect your charge.”
“Guide her well.” Merlin returned, waving goodbye as Gwen disappeared from sight.
Arthur stopped between a pair of impressively large oak doors and drew a key from beneath his shirt. Merlin fluttered his wings impatiently, as the Prince turned the key in the lock.
The rooms, once Prince and angel were inside revealed themselves to be spacious, if a little drafty. Settling himself against the table, Merlin watched as the Prince drew quill, ink and parchment from a cabinet near the window and set about reviewing the Kingdom’s administration.
Three hours later he was still at it.
Merlin had taken to sprawling across the fur rug placed before the fire, one hand idly attempting to smooth his wings. Why was it that no matter how hard he tried they always looked scruffy?
A knock on the door drew both Merlin and Arthur’s attention.
“Enter.”
Merlin raised his eyebrows. He had not realised it was possible for one person to sound so obnoxious with just one word. A servant poked his head around the door.
“My lord, I was sent to attend you? The feast to honour Lady Helen’s arrival begins within the hour.”
“Yes, yes, come in then.” Arthur said, laying his quill down and scattering sand across the parchment to dry it. Merlin quickly left the room as the servant began to unlace the Prince’s shirt. He toyed with the idea of visiting Gwen, but decided against it. He still had not worked out how to navigate the castle and did not particularly want to end up wandering its halls like some aimless ghost.
Eventually, Arthur emerged, resplendent in red tunic and scarlet cloak. The servant who followed him looked suitably intimidated. Merlin understood how he felt.
***
The banquet hall was decked out in full regalia with courtiers conversing whilst servants moved amongst them baring trays of wine and ale. Merlin swept the room for Gwen but couldn’t see her. Choosing a spot just to the side of the high table, Merlin settled in to watch the evening go by.
Merlin resisted the urge to summon a gust of wind to blow Uther’s crown off when the King stood to announce Lady Helen’s recital. He had watched, sick at heart, as Camelot’s monarch had parted bodies from their heads. Uther began to give a speech celebrating twenty years of a magic-free realm and Merlin decided he needed air. Gwen was still nowhere to be seen.
Fading through the wall, Merlin hovered by a second story window and watched the city. Tiny pinpricks of light were picked out against the cloth of Camelot - a mirror of the stars in the night sky. Tilting his head back, Merlin raised a hand to trace Orion. The majesty of the heavens would never cease to amaze him. As the wind whispered through his wings, Merlin fancied he could here the lilting song drifting through the walls. It rose and fell; a haunting harmony that wove around the listener like a dream. Suddenly, a jarring burst, a discord to the harmony, clawed through Merlin’s mind. Something was wrong.
Turning, Merlin sped through the wall and back into the great hall. The air felt thick and heavy, cloying and slightly rancid - the taste of dark magic lay heavy on his tongue. A creature stood in Lady Helen’s dress, one hand raised to throw the knife. Her gaze was fixed on Arthur.
Without thinking, Merlin dove forward. He flew across the space separating him from the Prince, dragging the young man to him and spreading his wings as a shield to encircle them both. He cradled Arthur against his chest as the knife shattered against his feathers and the spell broke. Merlin heard the witch shriek in rage, only for her breath to be cut short with a gurgle as a knight thrust his sword through her heart. Merlin bit his lip as his eyes pricked with unshed tears. Another murder; so much murder in this kingdom.
Opening his eyes, Merlin found himself staring into eyes as blue as summer skies. Arthur’s mouth was open in soft amazement, and he was staring at Merlin with a mixture of awe and horror.
He can see me, Merlin thought bewildered. I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.
Chapter 2
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: Currently G but no doubt this will drastically increase in later chapters
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 1
Summary: Merlin was in heaven, minding his own business, when he was told he was to become the guardian angel of Arthur Pendragon. Written for rane_ab’s Guardian Angel plot bunny.
Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly
Prologue
Merlin perched on top of the parapets and sighed. Since his arrival in Camelot’s courtyard, he had learnt two things: 1) that amorous pigeons were often of a mind to proposition anything with wings and 2) that Princes, in contrast to Princesses, tended not to walk around with tiaras on their heads and were therefore less readily identifiable. Merlin had tried scouting the castle chambers in the hope of hearing someone address a young man as “your highness” but he had been unsuccessful. All he had managed to do, was to happen upon King Uther as he was dressing - and that was a sight Merlin never wished to see again. Ever. Thank goodness mortals could not see guardian angels.
Of all the places to send him, it would have to be Camelot, wouldn’t it? The one place in all of Albion, where magic was punishable by death and was therefore the weapon of choice for all aspiring assassins and malcontents. Merlin was going to have his work cut out for him. Casting his eyes balefully across the castle grounds, Merlin’s gaze alighted on a young man in armour standing just outside the castle grounds. He made a rather striking picture. The sun was sparking off plate armour and sinking into hair the colour of sun-ripened wheat. If it wasn’t highly inappropriate for angels to have such thoughts Merlin would have quite fancied running his fingers through it. Or perhaps spend his evenings composing poetry to the young man’s tresses. It occurred to Merlin that the altitude of heaven might have addled his brains somewhat. Shuffling, Merlin focused his attention on the scene below him. The blonde young man was surrounded by a few loutish fellows and seemed to be addressing a hapless young lad who appeared to be carrying a table. Moments later it became clear that it was in fact a target, not a table, and that the young blonde man was throwing knives at it - whilst the hapless lad was still carrying the thing. Someone had to put a stop to this.
Standing up, Merlin made to soar swiftly down to where the group of men were standing. He spread his wings, leapt from the battlements, misjudged it all somewhat, and plummeted to Earth. He landed in a feathery heap at the bottom of the castle wall. Irritably, and with all the grace of a lame goose, Merlin got to his feet and brushed himself off. Choosing walking as the safest mode of transport, Merlin stalked off across the courtyard to where ‘the prat’ and his companions were still tormenting the other boy.
As the blonde prepared to hurl his final knife, Merlin tugged on a few metaphysical strings and sent the young man sprawling. His companions seemed torn between laughter and feigned ignorance. In the end they opted for the latter, allowing the blonde to reclaim his dignity as he pushed himself to his feet. He cast around for his dagger, only to find it lying several feet away under a small deposit of manure - an event Merlin knew absolutely nothing about. Merlin did not know whether to be disgusted or impressed as the man prepared to delve into the dug to retrieve his knife, when one of his companions stopped him.
“Allow me, my lord.”
Oh, so blondie must be a knight then. Figured. But, surely the other men were knights to - they all wore armour, carried swords - they were all reasonably well dressed. So why would they address this man in particular as ‘my lord’. The only reason they would do that was if -
No. No, no, no, no. Merlin thought fervently, as he looked the young man up in down. Please, not him. It can’t be him. He’s a prat. The blonde accepted the knife from the knight with a nod, and sheathed it. Merlin crossed his fingers and lodged a fervent prayer. The knight obviously took the nod to be a gesture of thanks.
“You’re welcome, Sire.”
Merlin swore.
A nearby tree was incinerated by an accidental lightening bolt.
***
As he followed the Prince back to his rooms, Merlin sulked. The prat’s name was apparently Arthur and his ego was the size of - something very large. Merlin kept having to resist the urge to trip the Prince as he was walking.
“Merlin?”
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning, he let out a cry of joy and launched himself at the young woman currently hovering a foot off the ground.
“Gwen!” The other angel looked torn between joy and mortification that Merlin had chosen to greet her in such a manner. Blushing, she gently extricated herself from his grip and followed as he continued to follow Arthur through the castle halls.
“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked excitedly. “Last I heard you were with a young woman in Eire.”
Gwen nodded. “The Lady Morgana. She is now the king’s ward.”
Merlin grinned. “Small world.” Gwen smiled beatifically.
“I should return to her side,” she said, already beginning to meld into the wall, “take care Merlin - and protect your charge.”
“Guide her well.” Merlin returned, waving goodbye as Gwen disappeared from sight.
Arthur stopped between a pair of impressively large oak doors and drew a key from beneath his shirt. Merlin fluttered his wings impatiently, as the Prince turned the key in the lock.
The rooms, once Prince and angel were inside revealed themselves to be spacious, if a little drafty. Settling himself against the table, Merlin watched as the Prince drew quill, ink and parchment from a cabinet near the window and set about reviewing the Kingdom’s administration.
Three hours later he was still at it.
Merlin had taken to sprawling across the fur rug placed before the fire, one hand idly attempting to smooth his wings. Why was it that no matter how hard he tried they always looked scruffy?
A knock on the door drew both Merlin and Arthur’s attention.
“Enter.”
Merlin raised his eyebrows. He had not realised it was possible for one person to sound so obnoxious with just one word. A servant poked his head around the door.
“My lord, I was sent to attend you? The feast to honour Lady Helen’s arrival begins within the hour.”
“Yes, yes, come in then.” Arthur said, laying his quill down and scattering sand across the parchment to dry it. Merlin quickly left the room as the servant began to unlace the Prince’s shirt. He toyed with the idea of visiting Gwen, but decided against it. He still had not worked out how to navigate the castle and did not particularly want to end up wandering its halls like some aimless ghost.
Eventually, Arthur emerged, resplendent in red tunic and scarlet cloak. The servant who followed him looked suitably intimidated. Merlin understood how he felt.
***
The banquet hall was decked out in full regalia with courtiers conversing whilst servants moved amongst them baring trays of wine and ale. Merlin swept the room for Gwen but couldn’t see her. Choosing a spot just to the side of the high table, Merlin settled in to watch the evening go by.
Merlin resisted the urge to summon a gust of wind to blow Uther’s crown off when the King stood to announce Lady Helen’s recital. He had watched, sick at heart, as Camelot’s monarch had parted bodies from their heads. Uther began to give a speech celebrating twenty years of a magic-free realm and Merlin decided he needed air. Gwen was still nowhere to be seen.
Fading through the wall, Merlin hovered by a second story window and watched the city. Tiny pinpricks of light were picked out against the cloth of Camelot - a mirror of the stars in the night sky. Tilting his head back, Merlin raised a hand to trace Orion. The majesty of the heavens would never cease to amaze him. As the wind whispered through his wings, Merlin fancied he could here the lilting song drifting through the walls. It rose and fell; a haunting harmony that wove around the listener like a dream. Suddenly, a jarring burst, a discord to the harmony, clawed through Merlin’s mind. Something was wrong.
Turning, Merlin sped through the wall and back into the great hall. The air felt thick and heavy, cloying and slightly rancid - the taste of dark magic lay heavy on his tongue. A creature stood in Lady Helen’s dress, one hand raised to throw the knife. Her gaze was fixed on Arthur.
Without thinking, Merlin dove forward. He flew across the space separating him from the Prince, dragging the young man to him and spreading his wings as a shield to encircle them both. He cradled Arthur against his chest as the knife shattered against his feathers and the spell broke. Merlin heard the witch shriek in rage, only for her breath to be cut short with a gurgle as a knight thrust his sword through her heart. Merlin bit his lip as his eyes pricked with unshed tears. Another murder; so much murder in this kingdom.
Opening his eyes, Merlin found himself staring into eyes as blue as summer skies. Arthur’s mouth was open in soft amazement, and he was staring at Merlin with a mixture of awe and horror.
He can see me, Merlin thought bewildered. I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.
Chapter 2