The Core of Things
Title: The Core of Things
Author:lower_case_d
Rating: PG
Warnings: Side character death
Disclaimer: I just like to manipulate them, I don't own 'em.
Beta: ann7x without whom this would have been trashed the instant it was produced. Any remaining errors are my own.
Author's Notes (A/N): Written for merlinxarthur's fanfic challenge #5 picture # 09.
The Core of Things
Merlin liked stone, sandstone, limestone, granite, slate, and fieldstone but most of all he loved to work with marble. It practically carved itself when he touched it, melding into shapes that would seem nearly impossible to achieve if Merlin didn’t already know he had a magical touch for this sort of thing.
At first it seemed an entirely useless skill to have. He took art classes where he wowed the teachers breathless at times. Typically he’d simply donate the piece to some gallery and refuse to sign his name at the bottom, ashamed that he felt like his art wasn’t needed in the world.
That was when he had met Gaius, his mentor, his muse, his teacher, his common sense but mostly his friend. Gaius had taught him how to use his gift for good, where to donate his art and how to weave his emotions into the pieces.
There was still a part of him that felt like he was wasting his talent making tiny carvings, sometimes made of metal or clay and less often of soft stone. Gaius insisted he continue to practice, critiquing him day after day when no one else would. His encouragement meant the world to him, but when Gaius had passed on, that was when the real muse- his destiny- became something tangible.
**
The stone easily fell away from the core he was envisioning. A perfect square slowly chipped into something so much more- a brilliant cross covered in every type of flower imaginable.
He squinted, seeing the shape emerge, lined up his chisel and went to tap it when the bell over the door rang.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Merlin called from his work room. He took off his goggles and tried to wipe the dust from his hands on his pants, no luck, instead leaving behind a trail of white. His forehead prickled with beads of sweat the second he stepped into the warm room of his shop.
Standing at the counter was a man about his age, short blond hair, and flushed skin. His black jacket stretched across his chest.
“Hello,” Merlin extended his hand. The man shook it without pause, but when he pulled back a thin layer of white coated his hand. He brushed it on his jacket, leaving a streak of white and gave Merlin a dirty look.
“Sorry, I’ve been carving today.”
“Yeah. It’s what you do, right?” Arthur picked up a pamphlet and waved it as though that proved his point (which it did, but still).
“What can I do for you, sir?” Merlin asked, straining to sound as polite as possible. When it came to customers he understood that they tended to be emotional at this point in their lives.
“I need a headstone.” His voice was flat. Normally people acted hysterically, convinced that they had to get the best, customized to their preference and no mortuary would do their loved one justice so Merlin had to, actually, he wanted to.
“Who’s it for?” Merlin asked gently, pulling out a piece of paper to write the name.
“Someone I never knew,” he said.
Merlin smiled. “No, what’s the name?”
“Oh.” The man blushed, rubbing a hand softly over the top of his head. “Igraine Pendragon.”
“Spelt with a ‘Y’ or an ‘I’?” Merlin wrote the name as the man spelt it letter by letter. “Now, how would you like it,” he asked.
“I… have no preference. I never knew her or what she was like.”
“What’s your name?”
The blond blushed. “Arthur.”
“Well, Arthur, what did she look like? What religion did she practice?”
Arthur turned a deeper shade of pink. “She liked angels. She was pretty, blond.”
“Hmm.” Merlin leaned on the counter, resting his elbows against it in thought.
“I’d be fine with whatever you come up with, really. You’re the artist, not me,” Arthur said.
“Are you sure?” Merlin was surprised. Normally his clients were very insistent on the finished product.
“Yeah, I just… her other one is dissolving. I think it’s time she has an upgrade. just want it to be beautiful,” he said, “and price, material - none of that matters.”
“Alright. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have something ready for you.” Merlin’s heart was pounding with delight at the prospect of producing something of his own preference.
“Thank you-”
“Merlin. And you’re welcome.” Merlin smiled at him, extending his hand once more. Arthur took it again, squeezing rhythmically. When he pulled it back his fingers brushed gently against the inside of Merlin’s palm, he shivered the next time their eyes met.
**
This is what Merlin lived for, he realized as he chipped the marble from the core. His fingers were cramping from overwork, but he could already see what was underneath the unpolished stone.
Day in and day out he worked on it, details slowly rising to the surface, exposed for all to see. Before he even realized, he was making the final engraving on the headstone. He stepped back to admire his work.
He felt a wave of pure sadness as he stared at the marble angel in front of him, weeping across a pillar. He’d carved it thinking about the man’s stony face, frozen to hide the sorrow that was buried deep within.
**
He was in his shop again, carving another headstone of a poodle holding a squeaky toy when the bell rang a week later.
“Coming!” He rushed to take off his glasses and wipe his hands.
Arthur stood at the counter, sunglasses guarding his blue eyes. He slowly took them off and gave Merlin a tight lipped nod as a greeting.
“Ah- you’re here,” Merlin exclaimed, opening the tiny swinging door for Arthur to step behind the counter and motioning for him to follow into his work space.
“I made her out of marble so she’ll likely need some touching up in the coming years, but you just call me and I’d be happy to come out and fix her,” Merlin said, glancing over his shoulder to catch Arthur giving him a calculating look. “I’m sorry, I have a tendency to call them by a certain gender. Bad habit an old friend taught me,” he explained.
“Here she is,” Merlin motioned towards the angel, drooping wistfully over her pillar.
He looked up to find Arthur staring frozen in place.
“Here, have a closer look,” Merlin insisted.
They both bent down to their knees in front of the soft white stone. Arthur leaned forward, eyes squinting.
“Igraine Pendragon. For death begins with life's first breath, and life begins at the touch of death. John Oxenham,” Arthur read aloud. His voice shook as he inhaled audibly.
“You don’t like the quote? I can change it, of course-”
“No- no, it’s… more perfect than you can imagine,” Arthur said. His hand lifted slowly to trace across the angel’s fingers.
There was an extended period of silence, Arthur running his fingers over the angel’s hand, hardly breathing. Merlin stared at her, suddenly deeply curious about this unknown Igraine.
“I can deliver her,” Merlin said softly, grimacing when Arthur pulled his hand away as though he had forgotten Merlin was there at all.
“Yeah- um…” Arthur finally looked away, he looked Merlin up and down and then met his eyes. “You’re a bit scrawny to carry a rock like this, aren’t you?” Arthur asked with forced teasing in his tone.
“I’m stronger than I look, you jerk,” Merlin said, realizing too late what he’d let slip out. “I’m sorry, that was really unprofessional of me.”
Arthur just laughed and stood up. He extended his hand for Merlin who took it gratefully. They clasped hands until finally Merlin pulled away, feeling suddenly self conscious.
“It’s alright, Merlin,” Arthur replied, going serious. “Can you deliver it to the cemetery on the other side of town at five?”
“Of course,” Merlin replied, and his face felt warm from blushing. Arthur left without another word.
**
Just because he said he was strong enough didn’t mean that he didn’t have a hard time moving the marble statue. Fortunately, he had all of the necessary equipment to transport her safely and relatively painlessly - sans a few squished fingers.
He made it to the cemetery just as his clock hit five fifteen. He sighed - he always tended to run late when it most mattered. But Arthur was standing patiently at the front and waved at Merlin when he pulled up.
“Sorry I’m late, she’s a bit heavier than I remembered.” He hopped out and shook Arthur’s hand again, surprised with himself that he realized belatedly he’d been looking forward to that touch the entire drive.
“It’s fine, had to get her other stone moved first,” Arthur replied, still squeezing Merlin’s hand. Awkwardly, and regrettably, Merlin pulled away. He let his fingers pause briefly on Arthur’s as he took his hand back and smiled shyly.
Arthur blushed and cleared his throat. “So, I’ll help you out, yeah?”
It took far less time than Merlin by himself. They wheeled the statue to her rightful grave and painfully set her in her rightful place. Merlin wiped the sweat from his forehead before he looked over to Arthur.
“She’s perfect here.” Merlin smiled at him when their eyes met. “This is the most gorgeous spot.”
“Yeah. It is,” Arthur said. The flowers surrounding them seemed to almost be reaching for the marble. It sparkled in the afternoon sun.
They lapsed into silence, staring down at it. Arthur took in a deep breath. “I never knew her.”
Merlin waited patiently for more.
“She was my mother, died giving birth to me actually,” Arthur said, voice straining higher in pitch. “I know she wouldn’t want me to, but I blame myself sometimes.”
Merlin let his eyes roam to Arthur’s pinched face. “No, she wouldn’t want you to, but you’re only human. We all have stupid chivalrous ideas about how if we didn’t do something we’d be able to save another person.”
Arthur hissed out a pained laugh.
“She would probably want you to realize that the pain and the blame you’re feeling- they’re always going to be there, but it makes you who you are,” Merlin said.
Arthur’s adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed. “I wish I could have known her, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.” And silence descended again.
They must have been there for a while because the sun was already starting to lower in the sky. Merlin shifted his weight, still watching the angel, intrigued by the light’s affects on her gently curled hair and beautiful wings. He was just about to turn to Arthur when he felt a hand brush against his and looked down to see Arthur’s hand slowly grab his.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked, trying to pull his gaze up and away from the headstone.
“Your hands, they made this,” Arthur said.
“Yes, they did.” Merlin smiled.
“How did you know- how could you have known exactly what she would have wanted?”
“Because it’s what you wanted,” Merlin whispered.
Arthur turned to him then, eyes misty. Not crying though, because a tiny smile lit up his face. Such a tiny thing that made such a huge difference on him.
“I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.” Arthur stepped forward and awkwardly pulled Merlin close to his chest.
“Really, you don’t need to,” Merlin said into the hair tickling his face.
“Can I take you to dinner some time?” Arthur asked suddenly.
“I’d like that.” They broke apart, and Arthur’s lips turned up at the corner with a grin. Merlin’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth at that expression but he still managed to push out, “I’d like that more than anything.”
Merlin stepped back, examining the beauty that was Arthur exposed for him to see. Perhaps this is what his art was meant for.
Author:lower_case_d
Rating: PG
Warnings: Side character death
Disclaimer: I just like to manipulate them, I don't own 'em.
Beta: ann7x without whom this would have been trashed the instant it was produced. Any remaining errors are my own.
Author's Notes (A/N): Written for merlinxarthur's fanfic challenge #5 picture # 09.
The Core of Things
Merlin liked stone, sandstone, limestone, granite, slate, and fieldstone but most of all he loved to work with marble. It practically carved itself when he touched it, melding into shapes that would seem nearly impossible to achieve if Merlin didn’t already know he had a magical touch for this sort of thing.
At first it seemed an entirely useless skill to have. He took art classes where he wowed the teachers breathless at times. Typically he’d simply donate the piece to some gallery and refuse to sign his name at the bottom, ashamed that he felt like his art wasn’t needed in the world.
That was when he had met Gaius, his mentor, his muse, his teacher, his common sense but mostly his friend. Gaius had taught him how to use his gift for good, where to donate his art and how to weave his emotions into the pieces.
There was still a part of him that felt like he was wasting his talent making tiny carvings, sometimes made of metal or clay and less often of soft stone. Gaius insisted he continue to practice, critiquing him day after day when no one else would. His encouragement meant the world to him, but when Gaius had passed on, that was when the real muse- his destiny- became something tangible.
**
The stone easily fell away from the core he was envisioning. A perfect square slowly chipped into something so much more- a brilliant cross covered in every type of flower imaginable.
He squinted, seeing the shape emerge, lined up his chisel and went to tap it when the bell over the door rang.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Merlin called from his work room. He took off his goggles and tried to wipe the dust from his hands on his pants, no luck, instead leaving behind a trail of white. His forehead prickled with beads of sweat the second he stepped into the warm room of his shop.
Standing at the counter was a man about his age, short blond hair, and flushed skin. His black jacket stretched across his chest.
“Hello,” Merlin extended his hand. The man shook it without pause, but when he pulled back a thin layer of white coated his hand. He brushed it on his jacket, leaving a streak of white and gave Merlin a dirty look.
“Sorry, I’ve been carving today.”
“Yeah. It’s what you do, right?” Arthur picked up a pamphlet and waved it as though that proved his point (which it did, but still).
“What can I do for you, sir?” Merlin asked, straining to sound as polite as possible. When it came to customers he understood that they tended to be emotional at this point in their lives.
“I need a headstone.” His voice was flat. Normally people acted hysterically, convinced that they had to get the best, customized to their preference and no mortuary would do their loved one justice so Merlin had to, actually, he wanted to.
“Who’s it for?” Merlin asked gently, pulling out a piece of paper to write the name.
“Someone I never knew,” he said.
Merlin smiled. “No, what’s the name?”
“Oh.” The man blushed, rubbing a hand softly over the top of his head. “Igraine Pendragon.”
“Spelt with a ‘Y’ or an ‘I’?” Merlin wrote the name as the man spelt it letter by letter. “Now, how would you like it,” he asked.
“I… have no preference. I never knew her or what she was like.”
“What’s your name?”
The blond blushed. “Arthur.”
“Well, Arthur, what did she look like? What religion did she practice?”
Arthur turned a deeper shade of pink. “She liked angels. She was pretty, blond.”
“Hmm.” Merlin leaned on the counter, resting his elbows against it in thought.
“I’d be fine with whatever you come up with, really. You’re the artist, not me,” Arthur said.
“Are you sure?” Merlin was surprised. Normally his clients were very insistent on the finished product.
“Yeah, I just… her other one is dissolving. I think it’s time she has an upgrade. just want it to be beautiful,” he said, “and price, material - none of that matters.”
“Alright. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have something ready for you.” Merlin’s heart was pounding with delight at the prospect of producing something of his own preference.
“Thank you-”
“Merlin. And you’re welcome.” Merlin smiled at him, extending his hand once more. Arthur took it again, squeezing rhythmically. When he pulled it back his fingers brushed gently against the inside of Merlin’s palm, he shivered the next time their eyes met.
**
This is what Merlin lived for, he realized as he chipped the marble from the core. His fingers were cramping from overwork, but he could already see what was underneath the unpolished stone.
Day in and day out he worked on it, details slowly rising to the surface, exposed for all to see. Before he even realized, he was making the final engraving on the headstone. He stepped back to admire his work.
He felt a wave of pure sadness as he stared at the marble angel in front of him, weeping across a pillar. He’d carved it thinking about the man’s stony face, frozen to hide the sorrow that was buried deep within.
**
He was in his shop again, carving another headstone of a poodle holding a squeaky toy when the bell rang a week later.
“Coming!” He rushed to take off his glasses and wipe his hands.
Arthur stood at the counter, sunglasses guarding his blue eyes. He slowly took them off and gave Merlin a tight lipped nod as a greeting.
“Ah- you’re here,” Merlin exclaimed, opening the tiny swinging door for Arthur to step behind the counter and motioning for him to follow into his work space.
“I made her out of marble so she’ll likely need some touching up in the coming years, but you just call me and I’d be happy to come out and fix her,” Merlin said, glancing over his shoulder to catch Arthur giving him a calculating look. “I’m sorry, I have a tendency to call them by a certain gender. Bad habit an old friend taught me,” he explained.
“Here she is,” Merlin motioned towards the angel, drooping wistfully over her pillar.
He looked up to find Arthur staring frozen in place.
“Here, have a closer look,” Merlin insisted.
They both bent down to their knees in front of the soft white stone. Arthur leaned forward, eyes squinting.
“Igraine Pendragon. For death begins with life's first breath, and life begins at the touch of death. John Oxenham,” Arthur read aloud. His voice shook as he inhaled audibly.
“You don’t like the quote? I can change it, of course-”
“No- no, it’s… more perfect than you can imagine,” Arthur said. His hand lifted slowly to trace across the angel’s fingers.
There was an extended period of silence, Arthur running his fingers over the angel’s hand, hardly breathing. Merlin stared at her, suddenly deeply curious about this unknown Igraine.
“I can deliver her,” Merlin said softly, grimacing when Arthur pulled his hand away as though he had forgotten Merlin was there at all.
“Yeah- um…” Arthur finally looked away, he looked Merlin up and down and then met his eyes. “You’re a bit scrawny to carry a rock like this, aren’t you?” Arthur asked with forced teasing in his tone.
“I’m stronger than I look, you jerk,” Merlin said, realizing too late what he’d let slip out. “I’m sorry, that was really unprofessional of me.”
Arthur just laughed and stood up. He extended his hand for Merlin who took it gratefully. They clasped hands until finally Merlin pulled away, feeling suddenly self conscious.
“It’s alright, Merlin,” Arthur replied, going serious. “Can you deliver it to the cemetery on the other side of town at five?”
“Of course,” Merlin replied, and his face felt warm from blushing. Arthur left without another word.
**
Just because he said he was strong enough didn’t mean that he didn’t have a hard time moving the marble statue. Fortunately, he had all of the necessary equipment to transport her safely and relatively painlessly - sans a few squished fingers.
He made it to the cemetery just as his clock hit five fifteen. He sighed - he always tended to run late when it most mattered. But Arthur was standing patiently at the front and waved at Merlin when he pulled up.
“Sorry I’m late, she’s a bit heavier than I remembered.” He hopped out and shook Arthur’s hand again, surprised with himself that he realized belatedly he’d been looking forward to that touch the entire drive.
“It’s fine, had to get her other stone moved first,” Arthur replied, still squeezing Merlin’s hand. Awkwardly, and regrettably, Merlin pulled away. He let his fingers pause briefly on Arthur’s as he took his hand back and smiled shyly.
Arthur blushed and cleared his throat. “So, I’ll help you out, yeah?”
It took far less time than Merlin by himself. They wheeled the statue to her rightful grave and painfully set her in her rightful place. Merlin wiped the sweat from his forehead before he looked over to Arthur.
“She’s perfect here.” Merlin smiled at him when their eyes met. “This is the most gorgeous spot.”
“Yeah. It is,” Arthur said. The flowers surrounding them seemed to almost be reaching for the marble. It sparkled in the afternoon sun.
They lapsed into silence, staring down at it. Arthur took in a deep breath. “I never knew her.”
Merlin waited patiently for more.
“She was my mother, died giving birth to me actually,” Arthur said, voice straining higher in pitch. “I know she wouldn’t want me to, but I blame myself sometimes.”
Merlin let his eyes roam to Arthur’s pinched face. “No, she wouldn’t want you to, but you’re only human. We all have stupid chivalrous ideas about how if we didn’t do something we’d be able to save another person.”
Arthur hissed out a pained laugh.
“She would probably want you to realize that the pain and the blame you’re feeling- they’re always going to be there, but it makes you who you are,” Merlin said.
Arthur’s adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed. “I wish I could have known her, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.” And silence descended again.
They must have been there for a while because the sun was already starting to lower in the sky. Merlin shifted his weight, still watching the angel, intrigued by the light’s affects on her gently curled hair and beautiful wings. He was just about to turn to Arthur when he felt a hand brush against his and looked down to see Arthur’s hand slowly grab his.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked, trying to pull his gaze up and away from the headstone.
“Your hands, they made this,” Arthur said.
“Yes, they did.” Merlin smiled.
“How did you know- how could you have known exactly what she would have wanted?”
“Because it’s what you wanted,” Merlin whispered.
Arthur turned to him then, eyes misty. Not crying though, because a tiny smile lit up his face. Such a tiny thing that made such a huge difference on him.
“I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.” Arthur stepped forward and awkwardly pulled Merlin close to his chest.
“Really, you don’t need to,” Merlin said into the hair tickling his face.
“Can I take you to dinner some time?” Arthur asked suddenly.
“I’d like that.” They broke apart, and Arthur’s lips turned up at the corner with a grin. Merlin’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth at that expression but he still managed to push out, “I’d like that more than anything.”
Merlin stepped back, examining the beauty that was Arthur exposed for him to see. Perhaps this is what his art was meant for.