fic: Who Are We To Put Our Faith In God and Trust In Kings?
Title: Who Are We To Put Our Faith In God and Trust In Kings?
Title: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Title: R/NC-17
Title: allusions to sexual situations and one highly metaphorical sex scene
Title: Merlin's thoughts on what the presence of the New Religion Means
Who Are We To Put Our Faith In God And Trust In Kings?
I put no stock in religion. By the word religion I have seen the lunacy of fanatics of every denomination be called the will of God. I've seen too much religion in the eyes of murderers. Holiness is in right action, and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves, and goodness. What God desires is here (points to Balian's head) and here (points to Balian's heart) and what you decide to do every day will make you a good man...or not.
~ Hospitaller, Kingdom of Heaven
It is six months since the events that happened at the Isle of the Blessed. Gaius is weaker than he was but still capable of doing his job, Arthur is well though the scar on his shoulder still freezes with the coming of the rain, and Merlin is the Old Religion’s Priest. The power of the Earth is singing in his veins. It is a chorus and a harmony; a wash of voices raised in prayer and exaltation. Merlin can feel the breath and blood of every living creature. The power is like a drug. He understands now how Nimeuh became what she was. This power is so great, so rich across the tongue that it is a constant battle not to fall at its feet and surrender one’s will. Merlin knows there may come a day when he will sacrifice all upon the Old Religion’s altar. But that day is not today - for all that he is tempted.
He has watched as men and woman burn; as the executioner parts bodies from their heads - all for the crime of sorcery. Morgana drags her nails across his skin. Carves her name in blood upon his wrist and demands to know why he does not save their kin. Merlin simply shakes his head. Mere months ago such an act might have had the people up in arms - rallied to his cause - but not any more. Uther’s madness has at last found God - and with Him, a way to quell the mutterings of the people. He tells them magic is not just a crime against this kingdom, but a threat to their immortal souls. He has the backing of the priests - of men from Rome who tell him what he does is just - and it is enough to bow the backs of adult and child alike. They fear the wrath of Rome’s white Christ.
Merlin has read the Bible - or at least has asked Arthur to read it to him, for he is a peasant and not permitted to touch such things. He knows that the message it contains is not one of violence, but one of love. But Uther is unshakable in his convictions and whilst Arthur may contest his father in secular matters he dare not go against God’s Holy Word. The prince’s hands are tied and Merlin will not use his magic to halt this purge. The only way to end it would be to kill the king and Merlin loves Arthur too greatly to cause him pain.
But still, Merlin fears this New Religion; for with it has come not just a second purge of the whole Kingdom but all the bigotry and hatefulness of Rome. The rites of the Old Religion, of Nature and Earth, are condemned as works of Satan and his minions. Knights who once sought each other’s company and trust now kneel before an altar and beg to be forgiven for their love. Maids who once would have walked hand in hand and whispered to each other, now shy away and smooth hands down their skirts, whilst avoiding each other’s gaze. Merlin knows such things are preached because Rome is afraid - of things she does not wish to understand or cannot hope to know.
Morgana whispers that she has dreamt of Jerusalem in flames; of the Holy Land awash in a sea of blood and cries of ‘This is God’s will’. Merlin trembles and watches as the cross is raised atop the newly christened church. He wonders what this means.
Yet the New Religion is not everywhere. Though in Camelot it may be the very air, outside the city the people still keep to the old ways. Merlin encourages Arthur’s hunting in a way he never has before; asks the Prince to ride out to the villages and see his people. Arthur agrees, and scorns the need for escorts. He leaves his knights under his father’s watchful glare and follows Merlin across field and woods. It is here, where the Old Religion speaks that Merlin lays Arthur on a bed of leaves and dirt and kneels so as to worship and adore. He spears himself upon the Prince - let’s Arthur mark him even as he marks Arthur in return. He begs and cries and knows that the Old Religion claims this even as he tries to keep it for himself. This is an ancient rite - as old as Time itself - and it is Merlin’s payment for the power birth bestowed. He rides Arthur to completion, and savours every moment, because these times are too few now.
Merlin has learnt not to take such liberties at court. He remembers the night when he came to Arthur’s chambers and bent to kiss his Prince while he lay sleeping. He remembers how Arthur had sighed and turned his head away.
“We cannot, Merlin, it is a crime against God.”
Merlin had frowned and straddled Arthur’s lap, bracing himself against tanned skin and naked flesh. “He is not my god, my lord.” Merlin had felt the Old Religion thrum in answer to his call.
“But He is mine,” Arthur had told him, “at least within these walls.” Merlin had left that night; but the next he had persuaded Arthur to go hunting and insisted the Prince claim him beneath the trees whilst Merlin gazed upon the stars in all their majesty.
He knows that in his heart, Arthur honours the Old Religion - the religion of his mother and her people. But Uther is a Christian and Arthur must follow in the footsteps of the king. Morgana rants and raves and flaunts her allegiance to the Old Ways and all Merlin can do to placate her is to promise that the land will acknowledge Arthur before he ever is crowned king.
Still, Merlin watches as the priests leave to spread their word and wonders what will happen to magic if Camelot is a Christian land. He does not need Morgana’s Sight to know there would be bloodshed. Arthur cannot be a Christian King, at least not yet, and not entirely. Let him have a Christian Queen and let him being a King of the Earth. That will suffice.
Morgana tells him he is a fool, but Merlin shakes his head in denial. Have the crown placed upon Arthur’s head by both a druid and a priest and it will be enough to keep the harmony. There must be a balance - the Old Religion and the New. If there is not, Merlin will not only loose his place by Arthur’s side but also in his bed. And Merlin cannot abide the thought of never touching Arthur again.
He knows it is too late to drive the New Religion from the realm but he swears by all the ancient gods he will never let it take full hold. For his own sake, and for Arthur's, he cannot.
~FIN~
As a short disclaimer I would like to say that I am not in any way anti-Christian (I was in fact raised in a Catholic household) and I apologise if anyone if offended by the way I have portrayed the early Catholic Church. I have attempted to write this piece from the perspective of those who followed ‘pagan’ religions at the time of the initial spread of Roman Catholicism in Britain (ca. 597 AD), so any negative opinions are not an attempt to vilify the Catholic Church in general but are merely being expressed for the purpose of this fic. Thank you.
Title: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Title: R/NC-17
Title: allusions to sexual situations and one highly metaphorical sex scene
Title: Merlin's thoughts on what the presence of the New Religion Means
Who Are We To Put Our Faith In God And Trust In Kings?
I put no stock in religion. By the word religion I have seen the lunacy of fanatics of every denomination be called the will of God. I've seen too much religion in the eyes of murderers. Holiness is in right action, and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves, and goodness. What God desires is here (points to Balian's head) and here (points to Balian's heart) and what you decide to do every day will make you a good man...or not.
~ Hospitaller, Kingdom of Heaven
It is six months since the events that happened at the Isle of the Blessed. Gaius is weaker than he was but still capable of doing his job, Arthur is well though the scar on his shoulder still freezes with the coming of the rain, and Merlin is the Old Religion’s Priest. The power of the Earth is singing in his veins. It is a chorus and a harmony; a wash of voices raised in prayer and exaltation. Merlin can feel the breath and blood of every living creature. The power is like a drug. He understands now how Nimeuh became what she was. This power is so great, so rich across the tongue that it is a constant battle not to fall at its feet and surrender one’s will. Merlin knows there may come a day when he will sacrifice all upon the Old Religion’s altar. But that day is not today - for all that he is tempted.
He has watched as men and woman burn; as the executioner parts bodies from their heads - all for the crime of sorcery. Morgana drags her nails across his skin. Carves her name in blood upon his wrist and demands to know why he does not save their kin. Merlin simply shakes his head. Mere months ago such an act might have had the people up in arms - rallied to his cause - but not any more. Uther’s madness has at last found God - and with Him, a way to quell the mutterings of the people. He tells them magic is not just a crime against this kingdom, but a threat to their immortal souls. He has the backing of the priests - of men from Rome who tell him what he does is just - and it is enough to bow the backs of adult and child alike. They fear the wrath of Rome’s white Christ.
Merlin has read the Bible - or at least has asked Arthur to read it to him, for he is a peasant and not permitted to touch such things. He knows that the message it contains is not one of violence, but one of love. But Uther is unshakable in his convictions and whilst Arthur may contest his father in secular matters he dare not go against God’s Holy Word. The prince’s hands are tied and Merlin will not use his magic to halt this purge. The only way to end it would be to kill the king and Merlin loves Arthur too greatly to cause him pain.
But still, Merlin fears this New Religion; for with it has come not just a second purge of the whole Kingdom but all the bigotry and hatefulness of Rome. The rites of the Old Religion, of Nature and Earth, are condemned as works of Satan and his minions. Knights who once sought each other’s company and trust now kneel before an altar and beg to be forgiven for their love. Maids who once would have walked hand in hand and whispered to each other, now shy away and smooth hands down their skirts, whilst avoiding each other’s gaze. Merlin knows such things are preached because Rome is afraid - of things she does not wish to understand or cannot hope to know.
Morgana whispers that she has dreamt of Jerusalem in flames; of the Holy Land awash in a sea of blood and cries of ‘This is God’s will’. Merlin trembles and watches as the cross is raised atop the newly christened church. He wonders what this means.
Yet the New Religion is not everywhere. Though in Camelot it may be the very air, outside the city the people still keep to the old ways. Merlin encourages Arthur’s hunting in a way he never has before; asks the Prince to ride out to the villages and see his people. Arthur agrees, and scorns the need for escorts. He leaves his knights under his father’s watchful glare and follows Merlin across field and woods. It is here, where the Old Religion speaks that Merlin lays Arthur on a bed of leaves and dirt and kneels so as to worship and adore. He spears himself upon the Prince - let’s Arthur mark him even as he marks Arthur in return. He begs and cries and knows that the Old Religion claims this even as he tries to keep it for himself. This is an ancient rite - as old as Time itself - and it is Merlin’s payment for the power birth bestowed. He rides Arthur to completion, and savours every moment, because these times are too few now.
Merlin has learnt not to take such liberties at court. He remembers the night when he came to Arthur’s chambers and bent to kiss his Prince while he lay sleeping. He remembers how Arthur had sighed and turned his head away.
“We cannot, Merlin, it is a crime against God.”
Merlin had frowned and straddled Arthur’s lap, bracing himself against tanned skin and naked flesh. “He is not my god, my lord.” Merlin had felt the Old Religion thrum in answer to his call.
“But He is mine,” Arthur had told him, “at least within these walls.” Merlin had left that night; but the next he had persuaded Arthur to go hunting and insisted the Prince claim him beneath the trees whilst Merlin gazed upon the stars in all their majesty.
He knows that in his heart, Arthur honours the Old Religion - the religion of his mother and her people. But Uther is a Christian and Arthur must follow in the footsteps of the king. Morgana rants and raves and flaunts her allegiance to the Old Ways and all Merlin can do to placate her is to promise that the land will acknowledge Arthur before he ever is crowned king.
Still, Merlin watches as the priests leave to spread their word and wonders what will happen to magic if Camelot is a Christian land. He does not need Morgana’s Sight to know there would be bloodshed. Arthur cannot be a Christian King, at least not yet, and not entirely. Let him have a Christian Queen and let him being a King of the Earth. That will suffice.
Morgana tells him he is a fool, but Merlin shakes his head in denial. Have the crown placed upon Arthur’s head by both a druid and a priest and it will be enough to keep the harmony. There must be a balance - the Old Religion and the New. If there is not, Merlin will not only loose his place by Arthur’s side but also in his bed. And Merlin cannot abide the thought of never touching Arthur again.
He knows it is too late to drive the New Religion from the realm but he swears by all the ancient gods he will never let it take full hold. For his own sake, and for Arthur's, he cannot.
~FIN~
As a short disclaimer I would like to say that I am not in any way anti-Christian (I was in fact raised in a Catholic household) and I apologise if anyone if offended by the way I have portrayed the early Catholic Church. I have attempted to write this piece from the perspective of those who followed ‘pagan’ religions at the time of the initial spread of Roman Catholicism in Britain (ca. 597 AD), so any negative opinions are not an attempt to vilify the Catholic Church in general but are merely being expressed for the purpose of this fic. Thank you.