Cold Iron - part 4
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Cold Iron - part 4
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Balinor, Uther
Warning: none
Summary: Balinor was a fool trusting that all would be right in the end. For Uther was a tyrant and the prince a naïve boy, and when Balinor saved Camelot, death was to be his reward.
Word Count: 974
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 509 in public
Author's Notes: unbetaed, AU for The Last Dragonlord, also I’ve always been suspicious of how Gaius knew about the crystals around Dagr and Ebor’s necks in the Gwaine episode. He seemed to know a lot about them.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Of course, his luck ran out shortly after exiting the dungeon’s entrance.
Uther was barrelling down the walkway outside, that murderous bastard. For the briefest of moments, Balinor wanted to tear through the distance, beat Uther into a bloody pulp and then rip out that monster’s heart and stomp on it.
But he knew he’d never win. Uther was armed as Balinor was not. One shout and the guards would come running, their swords at the ready.
It would be a very messy end and nothing gained.
As he stood there, weighing his chances at escape, Merlin and that son of Uther’s came into view, trailing behind Uther. Even from a distance, Balinor could see Arthur hurrying along, trying to catch up and argue with the king. His hands waving in the night air, as his voice carried across the courtyard, he pointed to the pile of wood waiting and ready to burn Balinor tomorrow.
“Father, please,” Arthur said, “This isn’t right. He gave up his freedom to help us.”
Uther whirled around, scowling at the boy. “He is a danger to this kingdom and if you can’t see that, I fear you are not capable of being king.”
His eyes narrowing, clear even in the flickering torchlight, Arthur snapped, “Maybe I’m not, not if my word means nothing.”
At that, Uther stopped short, glaring at his son. “You are too soft-hearted for your own good. I regret not beating it out of you when I had the chance. But you will obey me. That fiend will die tomorrow.”
“Please, father, at least let him go into exile. The dragon is gone and-” Arthur never finished.
“Enough.” Uther shoved him back against the stone wall, his hand tight around Arthur’s throat. “Obey me or he,” Uther said, nodding to Merlin, “will be lashed until there is nothing left of his back. Do you understand me, boy?”
Even at a distance, Balinor could see Merlin turn white as a shroud. Arthur, too, once Uther released him, was grim, his face set and pale. Coughing a little, finally, Arthur said, “Yes, father, I understand perfectly.”
Turning away, as Balinor tried to sink into the shadows, the movement must have caught Uther’s attention. He called out, “Ah, Gaius, perhaps you could talk some sense into this obstinate fool.”
At least, in the torchlight, Balinor hoped that Uther would not look too closely. Clearing his throat, Balinor tried to mimic Gaius’s voice as best he could. “The impetuousness of youth, my lord. I am sure he will see reason come morning.”
Behind Uther, Merlin’s eyes had gone wide, then he seemed to shrink back a little, his gaze flitting between Uther and Balinor, then looking out into the distance toward the postern gate before staring again at Balinor.
But Uther wasn’t paying any attention. “He had better or there will be consequences. I expect you there as well, Gaius. A united front. To show the world that magic must be eradicated at long last.”
Choking a little, Balinor said, “Of course, my lord.” It was all he could do not to grab onto Uther’s sword and shove it into his gut. But the worry in Merlin’s eyes was enough. “A united front indeed.”
“I knew I could count on you. You have been my steadfast bulwark these many years,” Uther said, tapping one finger against Balinor’s chest, then stepping back, frowning. “Is that a new robe? You were wearing something else at dinner.”
Bloody hell. Of all the times for Uther to be observant.
“Ah, I attended a patient of mine just now. His wound had reopened and there was some blood. I thought it best that I change before seeing to my other patients. A physician bloodied is, well, unfortunate. It tends to frighten my patients, you see, a reminder of their own misfortunes.” Balinor gave a little shrug, as Gaius might have done. But he was prepared. If nothing else, he’d go down fighting.
But Uther brushed it aside, as if Gaius’s patients, Camelot citizens all, were nothing. “There will be a feast afterwards. To celebrate the death of one last dragonlord. For all your tireless work and your support, you may sit at high table. This time.”
Bowing, wanting to strangle Uther with his bare hands but knowing he needed to go, Balinor said, “My lord, you are too generous. If I might take my leave? I have patients and Bronwyn’s child is due at any time.”
“Of course, of course,” Uther waved him away, then turning his back on Balinor, ignoring him, he said to Arthur, “And you, get out of my sight. I’ve enough of your foolishness for one night.”
With that, Uther swept down the long hallway, his boots clacking hard against the stone, as if he wanted to stomp out the whole conversation from his mind.
As Arthur passed Balinor, he muttered to him, “I hope this works, Gaius.” Then he hurried away in the opposite direction, probably toward his chambers.
Merlin lingered a little. Balinor must have looked puzzled because Merlin leaned in, whispering, “He didn’t want to know so we didn’t tell him.” Then reaching down, he took a knife from his boot, and handed it to Balinor. “For your journey, Gaius.”
Then Merlin scampered after Arthur, both of them turning a corner and lost from view.
Balinor looked down at the knife, a simple thing, uncarved but perfectly balanced and sharp as glass. It must have been a gift from the prince because Merlin could never have afforded something so lovely. Shoving it in his boot, Balinor looked around and seeing no one looking his way, headed for the postern gate.
A few minutes later, he was riding away, fast toward the place where he’d carved a dragon for his son, and wondering what awaited him there.
Title: Cold Iron - part 4
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Balinor, Uther
Warning: none
Summary: Balinor was a fool trusting that all would be right in the end. For Uther was a tyrant and the prince a naïve boy, and when Balinor saved Camelot, death was to be his reward.
Word Count: 974
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 509 in public
Author's Notes: unbetaed, AU for The Last Dragonlord, also I’ve always been suspicious of how Gaius knew about the crystals around Dagr and Ebor’s necks in the Gwaine episode. He seemed to know a lot about them.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
---------------------
Of course, his luck ran out shortly after exiting the dungeon’s entrance.
Uther was barrelling down the walkway outside, that murderous bastard. For the briefest of moments, Balinor wanted to tear through the distance, beat Uther into a bloody pulp and then rip out that monster’s heart and stomp on it.
But he knew he’d never win. Uther was armed as Balinor was not. One shout and the guards would come running, their swords at the ready.
It would be a very messy end and nothing gained.
As he stood there, weighing his chances at escape, Merlin and that son of Uther’s came into view, trailing behind Uther. Even from a distance, Balinor could see Arthur hurrying along, trying to catch up and argue with the king. His hands waving in the night air, as his voice carried across the courtyard, he pointed to the pile of wood waiting and ready to burn Balinor tomorrow.
“Father, please,” Arthur said, “This isn’t right. He gave up his freedom to help us.”
Uther whirled around, scowling at the boy. “He is a danger to this kingdom and if you can’t see that, I fear you are not capable of being king.”
His eyes narrowing, clear even in the flickering torchlight, Arthur snapped, “Maybe I’m not, not if my word means nothing.”
At that, Uther stopped short, glaring at his son. “You are too soft-hearted for your own good. I regret not beating it out of you when I had the chance. But you will obey me. That fiend will die tomorrow.”
“Please, father, at least let him go into exile. The dragon is gone and-” Arthur never finished.
“Enough.” Uther shoved him back against the stone wall, his hand tight around Arthur’s throat. “Obey me or he,” Uther said, nodding to Merlin, “will be lashed until there is nothing left of his back. Do you understand me, boy?”
Even at a distance, Balinor could see Merlin turn white as a shroud. Arthur, too, once Uther released him, was grim, his face set and pale. Coughing a little, finally, Arthur said, “Yes, father, I understand perfectly.”
Turning away, as Balinor tried to sink into the shadows, the movement must have caught Uther’s attention. He called out, “Ah, Gaius, perhaps you could talk some sense into this obstinate fool.”
At least, in the torchlight, Balinor hoped that Uther would not look too closely. Clearing his throat, Balinor tried to mimic Gaius’s voice as best he could. “The impetuousness of youth, my lord. I am sure he will see reason come morning.”
Behind Uther, Merlin’s eyes had gone wide, then he seemed to shrink back a little, his gaze flitting between Uther and Balinor, then looking out into the distance toward the postern gate before staring again at Balinor.
But Uther wasn’t paying any attention. “He had better or there will be consequences. I expect you there as well, Gaius. A united front. To show the world that magic must be eradicated at long last.”
Choking a little, Balinor said, “Of course, my lord.” It was all he could do not to grab onto Uther’s sword and shove it into his gut. But the worry in Merlin’s eyes was enough. “A united front indeed.”
“I knew I could count on you. You have been my steadfast bulwark these many years,” Uther said, tapping one finger against Balinor’s chest, then stepping back, frowning. “Is that a new robe? You were wearing something else at dinner.”
Bloody hell. Of all the times for Uther to be observant.
“Ah, I attended a patient of mine just now. His wound had reopened and there was some blood. I thought it best that I change before seeing to my other patients. A physician bloodied is, well, unfortunate. It tends to frighten my patients, you see, a reminder of their own misfortunes.” Balinor gave a little shrug, as Gaius might have done. But he was prepared. If nothing else, he’d go down fighting.
But Uther brushed it aside, as if Gaius’s patients, Camelot citizens all, were nothing. “There will be a feast afterwards. To celebrate the death of one last dragonlord. For all your tireless work and your support, you may sit at high table. This time.”
Bowing, wanting to strangle Uther with his bare hands but knowing he needed to go, Balinor said, “My lord, you are too generous. If I might take my leave? I have patients and Bronwyn’s child is due at any time.”
“Of course, of course,” Uther waved him away, then turning his back on Balinor, ignoring him, he said to Arthur, “And you, get out of my sight. I’ve enough of your foolishness for one night.”
With that, Uther swept down the long hallway, his boots clacking hard against the stone, as if he wanted to stomp out the whole conversation from his mind.
As Arthur passed Balinor, he muttered to him, “I hope this works, Gaius.” Then he hurried away in the opposite direction, probably toward his chambers.
Merlin lingered a little. Balinor must have looked puzzled because Merlin leaned in, whispering, “He didn’t want to know so we didn’t tell him.” Then reaching down, he took a knife from his boot, and handed it to Balinor. “For your journey, Gaius.”
Then Merlin scampered after Arthur, both of them turning a corner and lost from view.
Balinor looked down at the knife, a simple thing, uncarved but perfectly balanced and sharp as glass. It must have been a gift from the prince because Merlin could never have afforded something so lovely. Shoving it in his boot, Balinor looked around and seeing no one looking his way, headed for the postern gate.
A few minutes later, he was riding away, fast toward the place where he’d carved a dragon for his son, and wondering what awaited him there.