Double Drabble: Ambush (Merlin/Arthur)
AN: Written for the 'after the battle' prompt at merlinkisses.
Ambush
When he finally kisses Arthur, it's with the sharp taste of blood in his mouth and three broken fingers, men dying nearby and a hard cold rain turning the ground to mud.
The wound to Arthur's forehead continues to bleed, mixing with rain water--a stray blow, the attack thick and confused, a sudden fall of arrows landing with fleshy thumps, the screams of injured horses, war cries of unseen men echoing between the high cliff walls as Arthur shouted orders.
And now this silence, sheets of water hitting the earth. Arthur's mouth is cold from the rain, not particularly responsive.
Merlin pulls back, a little numb with the glassy distant feeling he's come to associate with killing people with swords--messily and up close--images twisting back on themselves in a loop. A chance blow. Arthur stumbling.
Merlin couldn't help but break the unknown swordsmen's neck with a reflexive twist of magic.
Arthur studies him critically, gaze open and steady. Finally he says, "You'll be all right," and reaches out, pretending to wipe away a smear of blood as though the rain hasn't already washed everything off, the leather of his glove warm and unexpectedly soft against Merlin's skin.
Ambush
When he finally kisses Arthur, it's with the sharp taste of blood in his mouth and three broken fingers, men dying nearby and a hard cold rain turning the ground to mud.
The wound to Arthur's forehead continues to bleed, mixing with rain water--a stray blow, the attack thick and confused, a sudden fall of arrows landing with fleshy thumps, the screams of injured horses, war cries of unseen men echoing between the high cliff walls as Arthur shouted orders.
And now this silence, sheets of water hitting the earth. Arthur's mouth is cold from the rain, not particularly responsive.
Merlin pulls back, a little numb with the glassy distant feeling he's come to associate with killing people with swords--messily and up close--images twisting back on themselves in a loop. A chance blow. Arthur stumbling.
Merlin couldn't help but break the unknown swordsmen's neck with a reflexive twist of magic.
Arthur studies him critically, gaze open and steady. Finally he says, "You'll be all right," and reaches out, pretending to wipe away a smear of blood as though the rain hasn't already washed everything off, the leather of his glove warm and unexpectedly soft against Merlin's skin.