Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 9/9
Title: Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 9/9
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: Currently PG-13
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 Drive
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
“Merlin. Merlin.” Gwen’s voice was soft and insistent, close to his ear. Merlin looked up, blinking away the tears the clouded his vision. His fingers remained locked in Arthur’s clothing, his body practically covering that of the prince. Merlin could not find the words to express his grief - he could barely tear his gaze away from Arthur’s face long enough to look Gwen in the eye. His friend’s face was wet with tears, and she placed one warm, brown hand on Merlin’s shoulder.
“Merlin.” Another voice said, and Merlin reacted to that voice on instinct. He spun, launching himself at the Dominion, clutching at robes and wings without care.
“Save him,” Merlin begged, “please save him.”
The Hashmallim gazed down at the young guardian. Merlin had been his charge since time immemorium, he had never failed a charge before.
“Merlin,” Gwen said quietly. “There’s nothing to be done. He’s dead.”
Merlin shook his head viciously from side to side, still clinging to the Dominion’s robes. “No.” He heaved. “Nothing in this world is finite. Death is not the end men assume it to be.”
“He is not yet dead.” The Dominion conceded. He watched Merlin closely as the angel gasped in relief, hands and body trembling with the release.
“But -” Gwen said, “He’s not breathing.”
“His body is dead. But Merlin has somehow managed to tie the soul to this world. It is not free to leave.”
Merlin felt both simultaneously sick and hopelessly pleased. “Then there’s still a chance.” Stumbling to his feet, Merlin swayed gently. “To save a life, a life must be taken. The balance of the world must be maintained.”
Gwen sucked in a breath in horror. “You cannot commit murder.”
“I don’t intend to.” Merlin said. He looked at the Dominion. The other angel regarded him shrewdly.
“There will be a price.”
“I know.”
“It may not be one you are willing to pay.”
Merlin lifted his chin in defiance. “I would gladly give my life for Arthur’s.”
“Very well.” The Hashmallim said. “Be on your way.”
Gwen grabbed Merlin’s hand as he moved past her, staying his progress. “Merlin -”
Merlin gave her a small smile and extricated himself lightly. “It’s the only way.”
oOo
Hell was not always the fiery pit of despair that mortals imagined in to be. That was simply one of its forms. Evil manifested in many kingdoms and sometimes Hell was no more threatening than a hidden hut, deep in the forest where a single man kept passers-by locked and tormented in chains.
For Merlin, Hell was an Island that had once been blessed. But Nimueh had carved a foothold for herself upon its shores and when she fell she dragged that once sacred place down with her. Merlin remembered - once upon a time - how he had darted through the waters of that place. He had let his wings graze the rippling surface, laughing to see his own face grinning back at him as he danced through gentle waves. But he had not dared trespass here for centuries. And even now, the cloying stench of Nimueh’s evil wafted out across the lake - sticking in his nose and throat and ears, choking him.
Merlin alighted gently on the soft green grass of the island. Ruins of an ancient building tumbled into dust around him but he paid them no mind. They may once have been a castle or a church - Merlin did not care - his attention was fixed upon the altar and the woman standing by it.
“Merlin.” Nimueh breathed. There was an almost childlike glee upon her features, a greedy joy that threatened to swallow the world whole.
Merlin swallowed hard, lifting his chin and daring the once-great angel to deny him. “I have come to trade my life for Arthur’s.”
“Have you indeed.” Nimueh said, she floated forward gently, the stench of hell wafting forwards on the breeze. Merlin held his breath and waited for it to pass him by. He feared Nimeuh’s master. Any sentient creature with an ounce of sense feared that thing that lurked beneath. Merlin knew that to make this bargain would be to forfeit his own soul. One did not parley with monsters and expect heaven to welcome you again with open arms. Nimueh was still speaking, her voice a lilting siren-song that promised a tantalising death. “You’ve bound him to you, heart and soul, did you know?” She continued, running one hand idly across the twisted altar. “You’re prince’s fate is under your control. Arthur will never live free now. You’ve managed to do what no angel has accomplished before. You’ve undermined God’s laws and deprived man of his freedom.”
Merlin felt something hot churn uncomfortably in his stomach. “There are plenty of men on the earth who are not free.” Merlin protested.
“But they are enslaved by other men, not by divinity.” Nimueh said slyly. Her voice was light, with an almost song like quality; listening to it felt like drinking poison.
“My life for Arthur’s?” Merlin pressed. Nimueh turned to him.
“No.” She said.
Merlin staggered. “But you were one of the Erelim. You still have the power to grant this, for all that we serve different masters.”
Nimueh laughed softly. “I never said I did not have the power, Merlin. Simply that I would not take your life for Arthur’s.” Merlin felt his heart grow cold. He could place anyone else’s life into the bargain. If Nimueh did not accept him then - “At least, not today.”
“What?” Merlin breathed.
“You and Arthur are destined for great things, Merlin.” Nimueh said. “Under Arthur’s rule Camelot will know a peace unlike any it has ever felt before. There will be wealth and prosperity. It will be a glorious rise. And I wish to ensure its ultimate fall.”
“What do you want?” Merlin said.
“You return to Arthur. He has his life, his kingdom, his prosperity. You remain with him - as is your charge - and I do not interfere. But there will come a day Merlin when Arthur’s army will hold one side of a battlefield; when the sky turns to blood and the earth beneath man’s feet is indistinguishable from the corpses of his comrades. On that day Merlin, when Arthur rides to Camlann you will not be there. Arthur will face Death in battle, and he will lose. Camelot will fall, and in that moment, all that you and he worked so hard to build will crumble to ruin. Albion will be plunged into darkness and chaos. We will have won, Merlin. And you will live for eternity - forever to walk with earth - with the knowledge that it happened because you were not there to protect your charge. That this time, you truly failed.”
Merlin bit his lip and trembled.
“Those are my terms.” Nimueh said. “Do you agree?”
“Yes.” Merlin rasped dryly. His heart was a heavy grindstone in his throat. Men were stronger than she had painted them - they had to be. No man could forget to love simply because the world was no longer quite as safe. Nimueh was wrong. Arthur’s death could not so violently affect a golden age. Ablion would survive it. Even if Merlin did not.
Nimueh held her arm out between them, offering Merlin a finely wrought goblet. Light played in conflicting streams across the surface - gold and silver merged to one, and Merlin was forced to swallow around rising bile as the fractured light lanced into his eyes. Rain clouds began to gather overhead, the stampede of thunder drowning Merlin’s rattling breath as he placed his fingers below Nimueh’s. Together, they held the cup aloft. Merlin’s arm was trembling, but this was the only choice. Nimueh screamed to the heavens and rain thundered from the sky. In moments they were both drenched and the goblet overflowed. United, Merlin and Nimueh drank to seal their pact and Merlin felt heave weep in despair. Nimueh smiled and Merlin took a fortifying breath. He had made a pact with the devil to save his prince’s life.
He could not quite bring himself to regret it.
oOo
Arthur was already awake and resting by the time Merlin returned. There were small signs that Gaius had been and gone, but for the most part, there seemed to have been little notice taken of the Prince’s untimely death.
“Merlin.” Arthur exclaimed when he saw him. “There you are. What happened? All Gaius can tell me was that a maid came in to tend the fire and found me passed out upon the floor. She screamed and called the guards who promptly fetched Gaius who them pronounced me dead. It was quite an embarrassment for him when I then started breathing again. Now, I’m left with a pounding headache, a bruised hip and absolutely no recollection of what happened to get me here in the first place.”
Merlin smiled, rather wanly, and perched on the edge of the bed. “I could tell you that you tried to elope with a seductive-yet-ultimately-no-good-for-you fairy in human guise and that I was forced to knock you over the head in order to prevent you from escaping but I would be lying.”
Arthur blinked once, twice, and then gave the effort up as lost and simply shook his head. “You are a strange creature, Merlin.” He said.
Merlin smiled again, more openly this time. “I know.”
Arthur settle back against his pillows, Merlin could see sleep dragging at him, calling the Prince to slumber. Naturally, Arthur was fighting it.
“I think I dreamed.” He whispered quietly. “There was a falling castle, and a lake. You were speaking to a woman. She had dark hair.”
Merlin felt his throat grow tight. “What else did you dream?”
Arthur sighed, face relaxing as unconsciousness claimed him. “There was a boy, and a field. Armies flew their standards in the breeze. I remember - there was a flag - the house of Tintagel.”
“Was I there?” Merlin asked.
“No.” Arthur said, brow furrowing. “No, you weren’t.” Merlin could see him begin to claw for awareness, hands scrunching in the covers as he made to push upright.
“Sleep, Arthur.” Merlin whispered, smoothing a hand down across Arthur’s face. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Planning on making yourself useful then, Merlin?”
“Of course, Sire. I will stay and see you become King. And I will never leave by choice, Arthur. Remember that - if I’m not there. It was not my choice.”
Arthur smiled, a curious little quirk of the lips as he finally drifted into sleep. “Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin.”
The sentence never ended. Arthur’s breathing evened out and his face fell into the slack lines of dreams.
Merlin lay down beside him, wings spread to protect his king. He would do his duty. And more than that, he would do it from love. Because one day, he would fail his Arthur. And it was never too soon, to begin atoning for ones sins.
The End
Authors note: I'm not happy with this ending. I'll admit, I forced it out becuase it was pointed out to me how dreadful it was that I'd just left this fic hanging - with absolutely no conclusion or anything. Someday, I may come back and drastically change all this but as it stands, this is the fic.
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Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: Currently PG-13
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 Drive
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
“Merlin. Merlin.” Gwen’s voice was soft and insistent, close to his ear. Merlin looked up, blinking away the tears the clouded his vision. His fingers remained locked in Arthur’s clothing, his body practically covering that of the prince. Merlin could not find the words to express his grief - he could barely tear his gaze away from Arthur’s face long enough to look Gwen in the eye. His friend’s face was wet with tears, and she placed one warm, brown hand on Merlin’s shoulder.
“Merlin.” Another voice said, and Merlin reacted to that voice on instinct. He spun, launching himself at the Dominion, clutching at robes and wings without care.
“Save him,” Merlin begged, “please save him.”
The Hashmallim gazed down at the young guardian. Merlin had been his charge since time immemorium, he had never failed a charge before.
“Merlin,” Gwen said quietly. “There’s nothing to be done. He’s dead.”
Merlin shook his head viciously from side to side, still clinging to the Dominion’s robes. “No.” He heaved. “Nothing in this world is finite. Death is not the end men assume it to be.”
“He is not yet dead.” The Dominion conceded. He watched Merlin closely as the angel gasped in relief, hands and body trembling with the release.
“But -” Gwen said, “He’s not breathing.”
“His body is dead. But Merlin has somehow managed to tie the soul to this world. It is not free to leave.”
Merlin felt both simultaneously sick and hopelessly pleased. “Then there’s still a chance.” Stumbling to his feet, Merlin swayed gently. “To save a life, a life must be taken. The balance of the world must be maintained.”
Gwen sucked in a breath in horror. “You cannot commit murder.”
“I don’t intend to.” Merlin said. He looked at the Dominion. The other angel regarded him shrewdly.
“There will be a price.”
“I know.”
“It may not be one you are willing to pay.”
Merlin lifted his chin in defiance. “I would gladly give my life for Arthur’s.”
“Very well.” The Hashmallim said. “Be on your way.”
Gwen grabbed Merlin’s hand as he moved past her, staying his progress. “Merlin -”
Merlin gave her a small smile and extricated himself lightly. “It’s the only way.”
oOo
Hell was not always the fiery pit of despair that mortals imagined in to be. That was simply one of its forms. Evil manifested in many kingdoms and sometimes Hell was no more threatening than a hidden hut, deep in the forest where a single man kept passers-by locked and tormented in chains.
For Merlin, Hell was an Island that had once been blessed. But Nimueh had carved a foothold for herself upon its shores and when she fell she dragged that once sacred place down with her. Merlin remembered - once upon a time - how he had darted through the waters of that place. He had let his wings graze the rippling surface, laughing to see his own face grinning back at him as he danced through gentle waves. But he had not dared trespass here for centuries. And even now, the cloying stench of Nimueh’s evil wafted out across the lake - sticking in his nose and throat and ears, choking him.
Merlin alighted gently on the soft green grass of the island. Ruins of an ancient building tumbled into dust around him but he paid them no mind. They may once have been a castle or a church - Merlin did not care - his attention was fixed upon the altar and the woman standing by it.
“Merlin.” Nimueh breathed. There was an almost childlike glee upon her features, a greedy joy that threatened to swallow the world whole.
Merlin swallowed hard, lifting his chin and daring the once-great angel to deny him. “I have come to trade my life for Arthur’s.”
“Have you indeed.” Nimueh said, she floated forward gently, the stench of hell wafting forwards on the breeze. Merlin held his breath and waited for it to pass him by. He feared Nimeuh’s master. Any sentient creature with an ounce of sense feared that thing that lurked beneath. Merlin knew that to make this bargain would be to forfeit his own soul. One did not parley with monsters and expect heaven to welcome you again with open arms. Nimueh was still speaking, her voice a lilting siren-song that promised a tantalising death. “You’ve bound him to you, heart and soul, did you know?” She continued, running one hand idly across the twisted altar. “You’re prince’s fate is under your control. Arthur will never live free now. You’ve managed to do what no angel has accomplished before. You’ve undermined God’s laws and deprived man of his freedom.”
Merlin felt something hot churn uncomfortably in his stomach. “There are plenty of men on the earth who are not free.” Merlin protested.
“But they are enslaved by other men, not by divinity.” Nimueh said slyly. Her voice was light, with an almost song like quality; listening to it felt like drinking poison.
“My life for Arthur’s?” Merlin pressed. Nimueh turned to him.
“No.” She said.
Merlin staggered. “But you were one of the Erelim. You still have the power to grant this, for all that we serve different masters.”
Nimueh laughed softly. “I never said I did not have the power, Merlin. Simply that I would not take your life for Arthur’s.” Merlin felt his heart grow cold. He could place anyone else’s life into the bargain. If Nimueh did not accept him then - “At least, not today.”
“What?” Merlin breathed.
“You and Arthur are destined for great things, Merlin.” Nimueh said. “Under Arthur’s rule Camelot will know a peace unlike any it has ever felt before. There will be wealth and prosperity. It will be a glorious rise. And I wish to ensure its ultimate fall.”
“What do you want?” Merlin said.
“You return to Arthur. He has his life, his kingdom, his prosperity. You remain with him - as is your charge - and I do not interfere. But there will come a day Merlin when Arthur’s army will hold one side of a battlefield; when the sky turns to blood and the earth beneath man’s feet is indistinguishable from the corpses of his comrades. On that day Merlin, when Arthur rides to Camlann you will not be there. Arthur will face Death in battle, and he will lose. Camelot will fall, and in that moment, all that you and he worked so hard to build will crumble to ruin. Albion will be plunged into darkness and chaos. We will have won, Merlin. And you will live for eternity - forever to walk with earth - with the knowledge that it happened because you were not there to protect your charge. That this time, you truly failed.”
Merlin bit his lip and trembled.
“Those are my terms.” Nimueh said. “Do you agree?”
“Yes.” Merlin rasped dryly. His heart was a heavy grindstone in his throat. Men were stronger than she had painted them - they had to be. No man could forget to love simply because the world was no longer quite as safe. Nimueh was wrong. Arthur’s death could not so violently affect a golden age. Ablion would survive it. Even if Merlin did not.
Nimueh held her arm out between them, offering Merlin a finely wrought goblet. Light played in conflicting streams across the surface - gold and silver merged to one, and Merlin was forced to swallow around rising bile as the fractured light lanced into his eyes. Rain clouds began to gather overhead, the stampede of thunder drowning Merlin’s rattling breath as he placed his fingers below Nimueh’s. Together, they held the cup aloft. Merlin’s arm was trembling, but this was the only choice. Nimueh screamed to the heavens and rain thundered from the sky. In moments they were both drenched and the goblet overflowed. United, Merlin and Nimueh drank to seal their pact and Merlin felt heave weep in despair. Nimueh smiled and Merlin took a fortifying breath. He had made a pact with the devil to save his prince’s life.
He could not quite bring himself to regret it.
oOo
Arthur was already awake and resting by the time Merlin returned. There were small signs that Gaius had been and gone, but for the most part, there seemed to have been little notice taken of the Prince’s untimely death.
“Merlin.” Arthur exclaimed when he saw him. “There you are. What happened? All Gaius can tell me was that a maid came in to tend the fire and found me passed out upon the floor. She screamed and called the guards who promptly fetched Gaius who them pronounced me dead. It was quite an embarrassment for him when I then started breathing again. Now, I’m left with a pounding headache, a bruised hip and absolutely no recollection of what happened to get me here in the first place.”
Merlin smiled, rather wanly, and perched on the edge of the bed. “I could tell you that you tried to elope with a seductive-yet-ultimately-no-good-for-you fairy in human guise and that I was forced to knock you over the head in order to prevent you from escaping but I would be lying.”
Arthur blinked once, twice, and then gave the effort up as lost and simply shook his head. “You are a strange creature, Merlin.” He said.
Merlin smiled again, more openly this time. “I know.”
Arthur settle back against his pillows, Merlin could see sleep dragging at him, calling the Prince to slumber. Naturally, Arthur was fighting it.
“I think I dreamed.” He whispered quietly. “There was a falling castle, and a lake. You were speaking to a woman. She had dark hair.”
Merlin felt his throat grow tight. “What else did you dream?”
Arthur sighed, face relaxing as unconsciousness claimed him. “There was a boy, and a field. Armies flew their standards in the breeze. I remember - there was a flag - the house of Tintagel.”
“Was I there?” Merlin asked.
“No.” Arthur said, brow furrowing. “No, you weren’t.” Merlin could see him begin to claw for awareness, hands scrunching in the covers as he made to push upright.
“Sleep, Arthur.” Merlin whispered, smoothing a hand down across Arthur’s face. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Planning on making yourself useful then, Merlin?”
“Of course, Sire. I will stay and see you become King. And I will never leave by choice, Arthur. Remember that - if I’m not there. It was not my choice.”
Arthur smiled, a curious little quirk of the lips as he finally drifted into sleep. “Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin.”
The sentence never ended. Arthur’s breathing evened out and his face fell into the slack lines of dreams.
Merlin lay down beside him, wings spread to protect his king. He would do his duty. And more than that, he would do it from love. Because one day, he would fail his Arthur. And it was never too soon, to begin atoning for ones sins.
The End
Authors note: I'm not happy with this ending. I'll admit, I forced it out becuase it was pointed out to me how dreadful it was that I'd just left this fic hanging - with absolutely no conclusion or anything. Someday, I may come back and drastically change all this but as it stands, this is the fic.
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