reposted fest fic: trrrnch (smile, smile, smile) [Merlin/Arthur - PG - 2.2k]
Title: trrrnch (smile, smile, smile)
Author: joan_waterhouse
Beta: groolover
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Total word count: ~2200
Summary: And then was now and now was then, and all the ages were but one, and the pain that tore his heart to pieces ripped from his soul Magic.
Warnings: WWI battlefield, reincarnation, highlight to read spoilery warning for the faint of heart: *At one point it appears as if a main character dies. But it all turns out well in the end! *swears**
Author's notes:
This was my entry for the merlin_muses fest.
For those interested: there's an accompanying post in which I list all my resources.
The title is inspired by Ernst Jandl's WWI poem schtzngrmm and the song Pack Up All Your Troubles and Smile, Smile, Smile.
For the part about Arthur's coronation I borrowed heavily from J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, specifically from Aragorn's coronation in The Return of the King. Thank you to vaysh11 for sharing her extensive LotR knowledge! ♥
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
*
destiny for some is to save lives
but destiny for some is to end lives
but there is no end
and I will see you in far off places
{{morrissey - i will see you in far off places}}
trrrnch (smile, smile, smile)
It was no likely time for romance, yet to wake up to his smile was all that kept me going. Perhaps romance wasn't even the right word for what we had; there were no walks in the park, no flowery declarations of love, no heated kisses.
But there were lingering looks, scribbled notes and this deep conviction that we belonged together, that however infuriatingly insubordinate he could be at times I would do everything to keep him safe.
I can't tell exactly when winning the war had stopped mattering to me, when patriotic love for King and Country had ceased to be the reason why I fought and had been replaced with this primeval longing to protect who mattered to me most. Maybe it had been when he first shared a cup of tea with me, that day when he found me keeping my post, drenched to the bones from the cold rain. Maybe it had been when I first saw his hidden smile, all crinkled eyes over perfect cheekbones, as he read a note I'd left him.
It was eerily silent now. No stuttering guns, no sizzling gas, no booming artillery; just the sounds of men - snores, clattering teeth, hummed tunes, prayers. Then someone's bark, "Oh, put a sock in it."
I tried to rest. Tomorrow we would leave the sheltering confines of our trenches and advance on German territory. The night was so cold that it didn't rouse suspicion when I shifted closer to him, close enough that I was able to press my lips against his neck. There were shivers running through his body, so I sneaked my arm around his side. I held his hand and forgot about the mud that never dried on my clothes and was as contented as any man could be in the middle of the foulest weather Belgium had seen in years, in the middle of a swamp, in the middle of a war.
***
There was a time when Arthur hadn't been called Arthur and Merlin hadn't been called Merlin. Camelot, Albion, England had not yet existed.
The people had set up their camp on the sunny side of a small hill for this long winter. The food they had stored frozen under ice and snow would last them some time, but spring would be welcomed gladly whenever it arrived.
He brushed the snow from his sleeves, felt the smooth reindeer-leather under his fingers. He had shot the animal himself, but others had tanned the hide, sewn it, stitched and decorated it to denote his standing. He was a great hunter, a trusted leader. He was the one who knew where the reindeer would ford the river, the one who knew which mammoth to separate from the herd. He was the one who knew exactly how to attack, but there were things which he himself didn’t know.
Inside the tent, illuminated by flickering flames, sat the Seer. This was where the Hunter turned to get his answers. Slowly, quietly, so as not to disturb the man who could walk between realities, the Hunter took a seat.
The Seer ground red stone to fine powder, covered his hands and face with it, made himself sacred, prepared himself to see how long this winter would last. Only then did he mix the herbs and roots with water and take a sip. He gazed into the fire, his eyes turning gold as if the flames somehow were now inside him. And then he spoke.
"Far from now, you will be the sun and I will be the moon. Our tents will be made of rock and our coats of colourful leather no animal wore before us. With pride you will be standing tall, a blade of shining stone held aloft. And on your head you will wear a ring of crystals that glimmer like stars. Together we will lead our people into the brightest summer they have ever known."
Then his eyes turned dull again as he came back into this world and looked at the Hunter as if to ask, Did you get your answer? before exhaustion got the better of him. But the Hunter caught him, was there within the blink of an eye, held him, brushed back his hair, pressed his lips against his brow, cheek, lips.
It meant, As long as we’re together it is always summer.
***
Along with the other wireless operators, he was carrying equipment to erect a station near enemy lines. Because of some insane regulation they weren't allowed to load their rifles. So I tried to stay as close to him as possible, ready to throw him to the ground to get him out of the line of fire at any moment.
Exhausted but unharmed we got to the target, a hollow tree stump. Immediately he began to set up the aerial on a tall mast. We were all nervous, as this was wont to attract enemy attention. When he had finished his task, he stored his tools in his belt to free his hands and was about to climb down again. With his head turned to check one last time with the other operators if they'd got a signal, his feet rooted on a rung on the mast, his stretched arms gripping the aerial, he seemed to me for an instant a bizarre variation of Jesus on the cross.
Then the bullet hit him.
I had seen so many unimaginable things in the war. I had seen men who'd lost their minds when they were trapped under collapsed trenches and tunnels; I had seen maimed bodies half-buried in muddy soil. Always I had kept my distance, had succeeded in pushing aside what these sights implied.
But now, as I saw him fall down the 18-foot mast, I felt my heart stand still. I saw him crash into the box of wireless equipment, the crack of his breaking ribs louder to my ears than all the noise surrounding us, and it was not just another casualty of war.
I rushed to his side, was just about to gather up his unconscious body in my arms to carry him back, when our officer shouted, "Leave him. We'll get him back to the RAP at nightfall."
And of course it would have been safer to just apply some bandages and carry him back after dark, but I knew the Regimental Aid Post was only equipped to give the most superficial medical care at the most. They would pass him on to the next Advanced Dressing Station, and all that would take time. Time he probably didn't have.
I couldn't just leave him lying there, dying right next to me, and get on with whatever it was I had to do to be a brave British soldier. What mattered it to me that disobeying an officer's order was a punishable offence, when life was hardly worth living without his smile, when I would rather follow him into death than be left behind?
So I lifted his far-too-skinny body over my shoulders and made my way back through the communication trenches, wishing us to be as far from here as possible.
***
One day Earth’s most adventurous citizens will build a fleet of ships to explore the stars. Only the bravest will embark on it to set foot on other planets, which until then they will only have seen through telescopes.
They will elect their Commander and he will name his ship Excalibur after a mighty sword he will have seen in dreams that will somehow have felt like memories.
And on the day the journey starts, the Commander will stand on the bridge with his trusted Navigator by his side. They will briefly look into each other’s eyes and won’t be able to suppress the grins that will be threatening to ruin their dignified expressions.
"Go on then, give the command," the Navigator will say, and nudge the Commander's side with his elbow. The Commander will frown and complain that that's no way to treat a superior officer. But it will all be in jest, and if there might be any kind of punishment in the Navigator's future it will be the fun kind he'll hope won't be recorded on the ship's CCTV.
And so, with a smile on his lips and two fingers sneakily hooked in the Navigator's belt loop, the Commander will take a deep breath and say, "Main engines start. Prepare Excalibur to leave orbit."
***
As far as I could see there was nothing but mud, mud, bare tree-stumps and even more mud. I was stuck in it up to my knees. Just to make a couple of yards headway took me minutes. His limp body was draped over my shoulder, balanced sometimes only with one arm when I needed the other to draw us out of the muddy ground. I could feel his breath against my wrist. The rhythm of it gave this situation some kind of regularity; it gave me strength.
But this soft pattern was growing more and more shallow with every return. That realisation weighed heavier on my shoulders than his thin body. I had carried him as fast as circumstances permitted, had done everything I could, yet we wouldn't make it back in time.
So I found a hole in which we could take shelter and held him, brushed back his hair, pressed my lips against his brow, cheek, lips, determined to stay with him to the end. But as I sat there amidst grey earth and destruction, his lifeless body cradled in my arms, it was as if the heavens opened and shone a single ray of light upon us.
***
After all the customary speeches and rites, Arthur finally arose and let the whole court gaze at him in silence.
Uther Pendragon had died - not by Morgana's hand, as Merlin had feared; not in battle, as Uther himself had wanted; but peacefully in bed, as Arthur had hoped. The gloomy festivities of the funeral had quickly been followed by Arthur's coronation.
He raised his chin, felt the heavy weight of the crown rest on his head. There, only a few strides away, stood Merlin who looked at him as if he now saw Arthur for the first time. Arthur looked back in much the same fashion.
Merlin wore red velvet for this joyful occasion. The afternoon sunlight was strangely reflected in his eyes, lending him an air of otherworldliness. It was as if this light radiated towards Arthur, warmed his entire body, made him feel whole. He felt stronger than he had ever felt before, taller even, mighty, calm and strong.
And then Merlin cried, “Behold the King!”
And in that moment all the trumpets were blown, and Arthur stepped out of the chapel into the flower-laden courtyard. Amid song and cheering voices he climbed the stairs, passed through brightly-lit corridors and entered the throne room, and the reign of King Arthur of Camelot began.
***
And then was now and now was then, and all the ages were but one, and the pain that tore my heart to pieces ripped from my soul Magic. It travelled through my whole body. I felt warm and glowing all over, as if a tub of hot water had been emptied over me. And then I saw my hands; they were golden, glimmering like embers in a fire.
All this warmth, all this humming, trembling power made me shake with fear. What if it was too much for me? What if I failed to heal him despite this gift fate had granted me?
But on the other side of panic I found serenity; I let the light consume me, direct me, let it find its own focus, and pressed my hands against Merlin's chest. His body absorbed the glowing gold like dry bread will soak up milk. And along with the gold I was drawn in towards him until it was hard for me to say where exactly my body ended and where his began. There was his heart, timidly starting to beat again; there his lungs once again filled with air. I felt them just as I feel my own. And then the glow faded and left us exposed once again to the damp cold. I just sat there and held him, whispered his name over and over. In the distance the barrage was moving on.
When he finally awoke he looked at me astonished, as if he'd never seen me before, all big eyes and slack jaw. And then his eyes crinkled like they did when he was unable to suppress a grin.
"Arthur," he called me by my true name and he smiled.
*
Author: joan_waterhouse
Beta: groolover
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Total word count: ~2200
Summary: And then was now and now was then, and all the ages were but one, and the pain that tore his heart to pieces ripped from his soul Magic.
Warnings: WWI battlefield, reincarnation, highlight to read spoilery warning for the faint of heart: *At one point it appears as if a main character dies. But it all turns out well in the end! *swears**
Author's notes:
This was my entry for the merlin_muses fest.
For those interested: there's an accompanying post in which I list all my resources.
The title is inspired by Ernst Jandl's WWI poem schtzngrmm and the song Pack Up All Your Troubles and Smile, Smile, Smile.
For the part about Arthur's coronation I borrowed heavily from J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, specifically from Aragorn's coronation in The Return of the King. Thank you to vaysh11 for sharing her extensive LotR knowledge! ♥
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
*
destiny for some is to save lives
but destiny for some is to end lives
but there is no end
and I will see you in far off places
{{morrissey - i will see you in far off places}}
trrrnch (smile, smile, smile)
It was no likely time for romance, yet to wake up to his smile was all that kept me going. Perhaps romance wasn't even the right word for what we had; there were no walks in the park, no flowery declarations of love, no heated kisses.
But there were lingering looks, scribbled notes and this deep conviction that we belonged together, that however infuriatingly insubordinate he could be at times I would do everything to keep him safe.
I can't tell exactly when winning the war had stopped mattering to me, when patriotic love for King and Country had ceased to be the reason why I fought and had been replaced with this primeval longing to protect who mattered to me most. Maybe it had been when he first shared a cup of tea with me, that day when he found me keeping my post, drenched to the bones from the cold rain. Maybe it had been when I first saw his hidden smile, all crinkled eyes over perfect cheekbones, as he read a note I'd left him.
It was eerily silent now. No stuttering guns, no sizzling gas, no booming artillery; just the sounds of men - snores, clattering teeth, hummed tunes, prayers. Then someone's bark, "Oh, put a sock in it."
I tried to rest. Tomorrow we would leave the sheltering confines of our trenches and advance on German territory. The night was so cold that it didn't rouse suspicion when I shifted closer to him, close enough that I was able to press my lips against his neck. There were shivers running through his body, so I sneaked my arm around his side. I held his hand and forgot about the mud that never dried on my clothes and was as contented as any man could be in the middle of the foulest weather Belgium had seen in years, in the middle of a swamp, in the middle of a war.
***
There was a time when Arthur hadn't been called Arthur and Merlin hadn't been called Merlin. Camelot, Albion, England had not yet existed.
The people had set up their camp on the sunny side of a small hill for this long winter. The food they had stored frozen under ice and snow would last them some time, but spring would be welcomed gladly whenever it arrived.
He brushed the snow from his sleeves, felt the smooth reindeer-leather under his fingers. He had shot the animal himself, but others had tanned the hide, sewn it, stitched and decorated it to denote his standing. He was a great hunter, a trusted leader. He was the one who knew where the reindeer would ford the river, the one who knew which mammoth to separate from the herd. He was the one who knew exactly how to attack, but there were things which he himself didn’t know.
Inside the tent, illuminated by flickering flames, sat the Seer. This was where the Hunter turned to get his answers. Slowly, quietly, so as not to disturb the man who could walk between realities, the Hunter took a seat.
The Seer ground red stone to fine powder, covered his hands and face with it, made himself sacred, prepared himself to see how long this winter would last. Only then did he mix the herbs and roots with water and take a sip. He gazed into the fire, his eyes turning gold as if the flames somehow were now inside him. And then he spoke.
"Far from now, you will be the sun and I will be the moon. Our tents will be made of rock and our coats of colourful leather no animal wore before us. With pride you will be standing tall, a blade of shining stone held aloft. And on your head you will wear a ring of crystals that glimmer like stars. Together we will lead our people into the brightest summer they have ever known."
Then his eyes turned dull again as he came back into this world and looked at the Hunter as if to ask, Did you get your answer? before exhaustion got the better of him. But the Hunter caught him, was there within the blink of an eye, held him, brushed back his hair, pressed his lips against his brow, cheek, lips.
It meant, As long as we’re together it is always summer.
***
Along with the other wireless operators, he was carrying equipment to erect a station near enemy lines. Because of some insane regulation they weren't allowed to load their rifles. So I tried to stay as close to him as possible, ready to throw him to the ground to get him out of the line of fire at any moment.
Exhausted but unharmed we got to the target, a hollow tree stump. Immediately he began to set up the aerial on a tall mast. We were all nervous, as this was wont to attract enemy attention. When he had finished his task, he stored his tools in his belt to free his hands and was about to climb down again. With his head turned to check one last time with the other operators if they'd got a signal, his feet rooted on a rung on the mast, his stretched arms gripping the aerial, he seemed to me for an instant a bizarre variation of Jesus on the cross.
Then the bullet hit him.
I had seen so many unimaginable things in the war. I had seen men who'd lost their minds when they were trapped under collapsed trenches and tunnels; I had seen maimed bodies half-buried in muddy soil. Always I had kept my distance, had succeeded in pushing aside what these sights implied.
But now, as I saw him fall down the 18-foot mast, I felt my heart stand still. I saw him crash into the box of wireless equipment, the crack of his breaking ribs louder to my ears than all the noise surrounding us, and it was not just another casualty of war.
I rushed to his side, was just about to gather up his unconscious body in my arms to carry him back, when our officer shouted, "Leave him. We'll get him back to the RAP at nightfall."
And of course it would have been safer to just apply some bandages and carry him back after dark, but I knew the Regimental Aid Post was only equipped to give the most superficial medical care at the most. They would pass him on to the next Advanced Dressing Station, and all that would take time. Time he probably didn't have.
I couldn't just leave him lying there, dying right next to me, and get on with whatever it was I had to do to be a brave British soldier. What mattered it to me that disobeying an officer's order was a punishable offence, when life was hardly worth living without his smile, when I would rather follow him into death than be left behind?
So I lifted his far-too-skinny body over my shoulders and made my way back through the communication trenches, wishing us to be as far from here as possible.
***
One day Earth’s most adventurous citizens will build a fleet of ships to explore the stars. Only the bravest will embark on it to set foot on other planets, which until then they will only have seen through telescopes.
They will elect their Commander and he will name his ship Excalibur after a mighty sword he will have seen in dreams that will somehow have felt like memories.
And on the day the journey starts, the Commander will stand on the bridge with his trusted Navigator by his side. They will briefly look into each other’s eyes and won’t be able to suppress the grins that will be threatening to ruin their dignified expressions.
"Go on then, give the command," the Navigator will say, and nudge the Commander's side with his elbow. The Commander will frown and complain that that's no way to treat a superior officer. But it will all be in jest, and if there might be any kind of punishment in the Navigator's future it will be the fun kind he'll hope won't be recorded on the ship's CCTV.
And so, with a smile on his lips and two fingers sneakily hooked in the Navigator's belt loop, the Commander will take a deep breath and say, "Main engines start. Prepare Excalibur to leave orbit."
***
As far as I could see there was nothing but mud, mud, bare tree-stumps and even more mud. I was stuck in it up to my knees. Just to make a couple of yards headway took me minutes. His limp body was draped over my shoulder, balanced sometimes only with one arm when I needed the other to draw us out of the muddy ground. I could feel his breath against my wrist. The rhythm of it gave this situation some kind of regularity; it gave me strength.
But this soft pattern was growing more and more shallow with every return. That realisation weighed heavier on my shoulders than his thin body. I had carried him as fast as circumstances permitted, had done everything I could, yet we wouldn't make it back in time.
So I found a hole in which we could take shelter and held him, brushed back his hair, pressed my lips against his brow, cheek, lips, determined to stay with him to the end. But as I sat there amidst grey earth and destruction, his lifeless body cradled in my arms, it was as if the heavens opened and shone a single ray of light upon us.
***
After all the customary speeches and rites, Arthur finally arose and let the whole court gaze at him in silence.
Uther Pendragon had died - not by Morgana's hand, as Merlin had feared; not in battle, as Uther himself had wanted; but peacefully in bed, as Arthur had hoped. The gloomy festivities of the funeral had quickly been followed by Arthur's coronation.
He raised his chin, felt the heavy weight of the crown rest on his head. There, only a few strides away, stood Merlin who looked at him as if he now saw Arthur for the first time. Arthur looked back in much the same fashion.
Merlin wore red velvet for this joyful occasion. The afternoon sunlight was strangely reflected in his eyes, lending him an air of otherworldliness. It was as if this light radiated towards Arthur, warmed his entire body, made him feel whole. He felt stronger than he had ever felt before, taller even, mighty, calm and strong.
And then Merlin cried, “Behold the King!”
And in that moment all the trumpets were blown, and Arthur stepped out of the chapel into the flower-laden courtyard. Amid song and cheering voices he climbed the stairs, passed through brightly-lit corridors and entered the throne room, and the reign of King Arthur of Camelot began.
***
And then was now and now was then, and all the ages were but one, and the pain that tore my heart to pieces ripped from my soul Magic. It travelled through my whole body. I felt warm and glowing all over, as if a tub of hot water had been emptied over me. And then I saw my hands; they were golden, glimmering like embers in a fire.
All this warmth, all this humming, trembling power made me shake with fear. What if it was too much for me? What if I failed to heal him despite this gift fate had granted me?
But on the other side of panic I found serenity; I let the light consume me, direct me, let it find its own focus, and pressed my hands against Merlin's chest. His body absorbed the glowing gold like dry bread will soak up milk. And along with the gold I was drawn in towards him until it was hard for me to say where exactly my body ended and where his began. There was his heart, timidly starting to beat again; there his lungs once again filled with air. I felt them just as I feel my own. And then the glow faded and left us exposed once again to the damp cold. I just sat there and held him, whispered his name over and over. In the distance the barrage was moving on.
When he finally awoke he looked at me astonished, as if he'd never seen me before, all big eyes and slack jaw. And then his eyes crinkled like they did when he was unable to suppress a grin.
"Arthur," he called me by my true name and he smiled.
*