fic: Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 4/?
Title: Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 2/?
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: Currently G but no doubt this will drastically increase in later chapters
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 1
Summary: Merlin was in heaven, minding his own business, when he was told he was to become the guardian angel of Arthur Pendragon. Written for rane_ab’s Guardian Angel plot bunny.
Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Camelot was once against hosting a feast of enormous proportion, and it was exceedingly dull. There were no minstrels or entertainers - not after the fiasco with Lady Helen and her imposter - and so there was little to distract from the tedious business of diplomacy. Bored, Merlin draped himself across the back of Arthur’s chair and amused himself by blowing cool air, down the back of his charge’s shirt. Arthur stiffened, but could do nothing to bat him away for fear of looking like a lunatic. The hall was filled to bursting with courtiers both from Camelot and Mercia, waiting to see the treaty signed between the two nations, all of whom would regard the Prince very strangely if he suddenly started slapping at thin air. Merlin directed a jet of air towards Arthur’s earlobe, giggling hysterically when Arthur jumped and nearly upset his wine goblet. Uther directed a stony glare in Arthur’s direction and both Prince and angel sobered immediately. Merlin hated it when Uther looked at Arthur as though he had reason to be disappointed in him. Arthur was a good man, and a good prince. He cared more for his people than Merlin had initially realised and he did not deserve the king’s censure. Muttering a soft apology into Arthur’s ear, Merlin backed away and went to hover beside Gwen who was positioned behind Morgana. The lady was as regal and as beautiful as ever - if a little disgruntled at being paraded like a prize mare before Lord Bayard’s advisors.
Gwen cast him a look that was too polite to be called disapproving but which Merlin felt like a punch to the gut anyway. Embarrassed, he looked away his gaze catching on a flicker of white over by one of the entryways. Tapping Gwen on the shoulder he cocked his head in the direction where what looked suspiciously like a pair of wings, were fluttering in a nervous manner. Curious, Merlin moved to investigate - ignoring Gwen’s cries of protest as he did so. Bayard had stood to make a speech but Merlin paid the words no mind, focused as he was on the glimmer of white that had just disappeared around the door. Feeling his connection to Arthur begin to twinge, Merlin hoped the other angel had not travelled too far. Slipping through the door, Merlin felt the breathe choke in his throat as he came face to face with one of the most beautiful angels Merlin had ever seen. Torch light sank into rich, dark hair and warmed limbs as white as ice.
The woman was smiling and something about the smile seemed familiar. There was a bitter edge beneath the cupids bow and a sense of warning twinged in Merlin’s mind. It felt like a symphony with a broken cord - a single flaw that pervaded and warped and undermined the beauty of the whole. Merlin knew the sound - if only he could place it. Laughing, the other angel made a motion with her hand and it was as though a veil had been lifted from Merlin’s eyes.
“Nimueh.” Merlin breathed.
Nimueh laughed, and Merlin felt panic dig its nails into his mind. About to yell for Gwen, he was stalled by Nimueh speaking. “Calm yourself, Merlin. I swear, by all that is Holy, I will not raise a hand to any mortal on this night.” Merlin felt the oath witnessed by the heavens and relaxed slightly, releasing the half formed words and lances of raw power that had been forming in his mind.
“Why are you here?” He asked wary; Nimueh may have sworn to harm no mortals but she had made no such oath to refrain from harming him.
“I was welcome in these halls once.” Nimueh told him. “I once stood behind the shoulder of the King.” There was the taste of bitter memory to her words. Merlin scoffed at the idea that Nimueh had the right to feel any anger over what she had lost.
“You fell from Grace long ago.” He spat at her, “You were banished from the heavens and commanded never to return; just as you were forbidden from setting wing or foot in this part of the mortal realms.”
“A command given by those I no longer serve.” Nimueh hissed. Power began to crackle in the air, Nimueh’s hair rose in a non-existent breeze and Merlin knew his eyes had bled to gold.
“Leave.”
Nimueh’s lips curved in a mocking smile. “You are not strong enough to make me.”
Merlin took a steadying breath. “This is Holy Ground.” He said. “You are not welcome here.” It was a long shot, but the stones hummed in answer to his call - warm with the memory of Holy Water being sprinkled on the ground; of the blessing that was given to the stronghold of the realm. Merlin could feel the power he had invoked rising and knew Nimueh did too. With a snarl of defiance she disappeared in a storm of her own fury, leaving in her wake an imprint of discord that Merlin knew would linger for days on end.
Merlin felt tired and spent. Wings dragging, he returned slowly to Arthur’s side. The Prince seemed to sense something was wrong, for he stretched out his hand to beckon Merlin closer, disguising the action as a call for more wine. Merlin wilfully misunderstood the gesture and dropped himself directly into Arthur’s lap, curling up and resting his head on the Prince’s shoulder. Arthur was tense beneath him, obviously uncomfortable - but Merlin could not summon the energy to care. Letting his wings droop wearily to the floor, Merlin waited patiently for Arthur to relax. He did so, gradually, and remained that way until Merlin felt he had derived all the comfort he could from the situation and returned to standing on his own two feet.
***
The moon had already begun to set when Merlin followed a yawning Arthur to his chambers. He had never realised just how long diplomatic banquets could last. A servant was trailing along behind Arthur, bearing what was apparently a gift from Bayard. Merlin had not seen inside it, but Arthur seemed happy enough so no doubt it was something sharp and pointy. His suspicions were confirmed when, after dismissing the servant, Arthur whipped the lid from the box to reveal a single, intricately carved dagger. Merlin glanced at it with mild disinterest. Such a small piece of metal did not warrant such child-like excitement, however endearing it was to see Arthur behave in such a manner.
“You can play with your toys tomorrow, Arthur.” Merlin said, chuckling as Arthur laid the dagger back down with reverence. Merlin frowned, for a moment he had thought he had felt the dagger pulse with evil, but the next second the sensation was gone. As Arthur readied himself for bed, Merlin scowled at the weapon - as though determined to expel any hidden daemons by the force of his gaze alone. When the dagger remained benign, Merlin attributed the sensation to latent misgivings over Nimueh’s visit. He assumed his customary perch on the end of Arthur’s bed and rested his back against one of the bedposts. Arthur eyed him for a moment and then sighed.
“Come on,” he said, drawing back the covers on the other side of the bed, “get in.”
Merlin blinked. “Huh?”
“Get in.” Arthur repeated. “You’ve been looking like a wild pig gored your favourite hunting hound since the feast, and I highly doubt a melancholy angel will make an effective guardian, so get in.” Then, as though realising such concern was perhaps improper in a prince, he added, “Besides, the closer you are, the easier it will be to protect me.”
Merlin smiled, accepting the gesture for what it was. Carefully, he crawled over the blankets until he was settled by the headboard and then set about wiggling beneath the covers. Arthur sighed.
“Do you always squirm so?” He demanded, huffing in indignation when Merlin inadvertently kicked him in the shin.
“I’ve never shared a bed before,” Merlin confessed, “so I wouldn’t know.” Arthur simply snorted in response.
Turning on his side, Merlin hesitated. The bed was large - he could easily spend the night without touching Arthur once if he chose.
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Arthur muttered. Merlin did not have time to question what had prompted the remark before a long arm snaked out and drew him into the burrow of warmth created by Arthur’s body. They weren’t quite touching, but there was less than a hand span’s air between them, and Merlin could hear Arthur’s heart beating in his chest.
The sound was rhythmic, soothing, a deep steady pulse. Merlin realised with astonishment that the Prince’s heartbeat perfectly matched his own. With a smile, Merlin huddled further into the warmth and closed his eyes, listening to Arthur’s easy breathing.
The last thought Merlin remembered before drifting off to sleep was, This is nice.
Chapter 5
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: Currently G but no doubt this will drastically increase in later chapters
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 1
Summary: Merlin was in heaven, minding his own business, when he was told he was to become the guardian angel of Arthur Pendragon. Written for rane_ab’s Guardian Angel plot bunny.
Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Camelot was once against hosting a feast of enormous proportion, and it was exceedingly dull. There were no minstrels or entertainers - not after the fiasco with Lady Helen and her imposter - and so there was little to distract from the tedious business of diplomacy. Bored, Merlin draped himself across the back of Arthur’s chair and amused himself by blowing cool air, down the back of his charge’s shirt. Arthur stiffened, but could do nothing to bat him away for fear of looking like a lunatic. The hall was filled to bursting with courtiers both from Camelot and Mercia, waiting to see the treaty signed between the two nations, all of whom would regard the Prince very strangely if he suddenly started slapping at thin air. Merlin directed a jet of air towards Arthur’s earlobe, giggling hysterically when Arthur jumped and nearly upset his wine goblet. Uther directed a stony glare in Arthur’s direction and both Prince and angel sobered immediately. Merlin hated it when Uther looked at Arthur as though he had reason to be disappointed in him. Arthur was a good man, and a good prince. He cared more for his people than Merlin had initially realised and he did not deserve the king’s censure. Muttering a soft apology into Arthur’s ear, Merlin backed away and went to hover beside Gwen who was positioned behind Morgana. The lady was as regal and as beautiful as ever - if a little disgruntled at being paraded like a prize mare before Lord Bayard’s advisors.
Gwen cast him a look that was too polite to be called disapproving but which Merlin felt like a punch to the gut anyway. Embarrassed, he looked away his gaze catching on a flicker of white over by one of the entryways. Tapping Gwen on the shoulder he cocked his head in the direction where what looked suspiciously like a pair of wings, were fluttering in a nervous manner. Curious, Merlin moved to investigate - ignoring Gwen’s cries of protest as he did so. Bayard had stood to make a speech but Merlin paid the words no mind, focused as he was on the glimmer of white that had just disappeared around the door. Feeling his connection to Arthur begin to twinge, Merlin hoped the other angel had not travelled too far. Slipping through the door, Merlin felt the breathe choke in his throat as he came face to face with one of the most beautiful angels Merlin had ever seen. Torch light sank into rich, dark hair and warmed limbs as white as ice.
The woman was smiling and something about the smile seemed familiar. There was a bitter edge beneath the cupids bow and a sense of warning twinged in Merlin’s mind. It felt like a symphony with a broken cord - a single flaw that pervaded and warped and undermined the beauty of the whole. Merlin knew the sound - if only he could place it. Laughing, the other angel made a motion with her hand and it was as though a veil had been lifted from Merlin’s eyes.
“Nimueh.” Merlin breathed.
Nimueh laughed, and Merlin felt panic dig its nails into his mind. About to yell for Gwen, he was stalled by Nimueh speaking. “Calm yourself, Merlin. I swear, by all that is Holy, I will not raise a hand to any mortal on this night.” Merlin felt the oath witnessed by the heavens and relaxed slightly, releasing the half formed words and lances of raw power that had been forming in his mind.
“Why are you here?” He asked wary; Nimueh may have sworn to harm no mortals but she had made no such oath to refrain from harming him.
“I was welcome in these halls once.” Nimueh told him. “I once stood behind the shoulder of the King.” There was the taste of bitter memory to her words. Merlin scoffed at the idea that Nimueh had the right to feel any anger over what she had lost.
“You fell from Grace long ago.” He spat at her, “You were banished from the heavens and commanded never to return; just as you were forbidden from setting wing or foot in this part of the mortal realms.”
“A command given by those I no longer serve.” Nimueh hissed. Power began to crackle in the air, Nimueh’s hair rose in a non-existent breeze and Merlin knew his eyes had bled to gold.
“Leave.”
Nimueh’s lips curved in a mocking smile. “You are not strong enough to make me.”
Merlin took a steadying breath. “This is Holy Ground.” He said. “You are not welcome here.” It was a long shot, but the stones hummed in answer to his call - warm with the memory of Holy Water being sprinkled on the ground; of the blessing that was given to the stronghold of the realm. Merlin could feel the power he had invoked rising and knew Nimueh did too. With a snarl of defiance she disappeared in a storm of her own fury, leaving in her wake an imprint of discord that Merlin knew would linger for days on end.
Merlin felt tired and spent. Wings dragging, he returned slowly to Arthur’s side. The Prince seemed to sense something was wrong, for he stretched out his hand to beckon Merlin closer, disguising the action as a call for more wine. Merlin wilfully misunderstood the gesture and dropped himself directly into Arthur’s lap, curling up and resting his head on the Prince’s shoulder. Arthur was tense beneath him, obviously uncomfortable - but Merlin could not summon the energy to care. Letting his wings droop wearily to the floor, Merlin waited patiently for Arthur to relax. He did so, gradually, and remained that way until Merlin felt he had derived all the comfort he could from the situation and returned to standing on his own two feet.
***
The moon had already begun to set when Merlin followed a yawning Arthur to his chambers. He had never realised just how long diplomatic banquets could last. A servant was trailing along behind Arthur, bearing what was apparently a gift from Bayard. Merlin had not seen inside it, but Arthur seemed happy enough so no doubt it was something sharp and pointy. His suspicions were confirmed when, after dismissing the servant, Arthur whipped the lid from the box to reveal a single, intricately carved dagger. Merlin glanced at it with mild disinterest. Such a small piece of metal did not warrant such child-like excitement, however endearing it was to see Arthur behave in such a manner.
“You can play with your toys tomorrow, Arthur.” Merlin said, chuckling as Arthur laid the dagger back down with reverence. Merlin frowned, for a moment he had thought he had felt the dagger pulse with evil, but the next second the sensation was gone. As Arthur readied himself for bed, Merlin scowled at the weapon - as though determined to expel any hidden daemons by the force of his gaze alone. When the dagger remained benign, Merlin attributed the sensation to latent misgivings over Nimueh’s visit. He assumed his customary perch on the end of Arthur’s bed and rested his back against one of the bedposts. Arthur eyed him for a moment and then sighed.
“Come on,” he said, drawing back the covers on the other side of the bed, “get in.”
Merlin blinked. “Huh?”
“Get in.” Arthur repeated. “You’ve been looking like a wild pig gored your favourite hunting hound since the feast, and I highly doubt a melancholy angel will make an effective guardian, so get in.” Then, as though realising such concern was perhaps improper in a prince, he added, “Besides, the closer you are, the easier it will be to protect me.”
Merlin smiled, accepting the gesture for what it was. Carefully, he crawled over the blankets until he was settled by the headboard and then set about wiggling beneath the covers. Arthur sighed.
“Do you always squirm so?” He demanded, huffing in indignation when Merlin inadvertently kicked him in the shin.
“I’ve never shared a bed before,” Merlin confessed, “so I wouldn’t know.” Arthur simply snorted in response.
Turning on his side, Merlin hesitated. The bed was large - he could easily spend the night without touching Arthur once if he chose.
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Arthur muttered. Merlin did not have time to question what had prompted the remark before a long arm snaked out and drew him into the burrow of warmth created by Arthur’s body. They weren’t quite touching, but there was less than a hand span’s air between them, and Merlin could hear Arthur’s heart beating in his chest.
The sound was rhythmic, soothing, a deep steady pulse. Merlin realised with astonishment that the Prince’s heartbeat perfectly matched his own. With a smile, Merlin huddled further into the warmth and closed his eyes, listening to Arthur’s easy breathing.
The last thought Merlin remembered before drifting off to sleep was, This is nice.
Chapter 5