fic: Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 7/?
Title: Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly 7/?
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.
Notes: This will likely be the last update in a while as I am deserately cramming for my Mods so fic writing is going on hold. If I get a chance I will update but apologies to anyone who hates the long waits between updates. It's about to get even worse.
Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Merlin shot backwards away from Arthur.
“Sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He tumbled from the bed in a flurry of wings and knees, landing painfully on his injured side. He yelped with pain, clutching a hand to his shoulder and folding his one good wing around himself as a shield. Merlin stayed huddled in the blanket of feathers, cursing himself for having been so stupid. He could hear Arthur lying on the bed, breathing slighting increased. Merlin winced at the thought of the Prince’s anger. Stroking a hand down the inside of his wing, the angel wondered what he could do to make this better. Perhaps if he promised never to do such a thing again - to never even speak of it? Maybe that would work.
Cautiously, Merlin furled his wing and peeked up at where Arthur was still lying motionless on the bed. There were two spots of colour high on his cheeks, and Merlin could see the Prince’s body vibrating with tension. He cringed.
“I won’t do it again.” Merlin promised. “We can just forget all about it if you like.”
Arthur said nothing for a long while; Merlin chewed the inside of his cheek nervously. “Very well.” The Prince said at last. “And it will never happen again?”
“Never.” Merlin assured him fervently. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I never would have done such a thing if I had been in my right mind. Must have been the fall. Sorry.”
“Not at all.” Arthur said, but his voice was thick and strained and Merlin thought he must be barely keeping his anger in check.
“You go back to sleep.” Merlin said. “I’ve slept enough, I’ll keep watch.” There was nothing much to keep watch for, but Merlin needed an excuse not to get back in the bed, and this seemed as good as any. Arthur nodded mutely and pulled the covers back over himself. Merlin took a seat by the only window in the room and gazed out over the sleeping town. Stars winked overhead and Merlin thought he could almost feel their disapproval.
“I’m sorry.” Merlin whispered beneath his breath. “I’m so sorry.” Bowing his face to his knees, Merlin hid the tears that slid slowly down his cheeks. Outside, it began to rain.
oOo
Uther welcomed the returning knights with royal pride and recognition. A banquet was announced to celebrate their triumph and Arthur, naturally, was the guest of honour. Merlin remained silent throughout the preparations, as the Prince bathed and changed and met with his father. Gwen found him when Morgana came to speak to Arthur, but Merlin found it impossible to tell her what had happened. He only shook his head and returned to watching Arthur interact with the King’s ward. Several times, he felt the oddest sensation when Morgana cast her gaze around the room - it seemed almost as though she were searching for something.
“I trust Gaius’ latest remedy is working?” Arthur said, once the pleasant formalities were out of the way. “You certainly seem better rested than the last time we spoke.”
Morgana smiled, and Gwen muttered in Merlin’s ear that it was rare to see son and ward interacting so pleasantly. “I am. I still dream but that is the curse of all human beings I fear. But Gaius’ potion has dispelled most of the nightmares.”
“And what is it that women dream?” Arthur asked, and Merlin could tell from the smirk on the Prince’s face that he was about to say something that would no doubt result in Morgana unleashing her wit upon him. “Lace and sewing, perhaps? Or the plans for the new herb garden? Surely there can be nothing of much importance in your mind.” The remark was obviously designed to initiate a heated debate, and Merlin wondered if Arthur did not take some form of pleasure in the verbal sparring he conducted with Morgana. But the lady, for all Arthur’s comments should have provoked her ire, simply bit her lip and stared out the window.
“I dream of angels.” She said quietly. “Beautiful creatures, surrounded by warmth and light, watching over the castle and this kingdom. And sometimes, when I am alone in my room, or have had a very trying day, I feel as though - maybe - one of those angels was with me. My own personal guardian.” Morgana’s lips twisted and she smiled bitterly. “You must think me mad.”
Arthur had grown very still when Morgana first spoke the word ‘angel’, eyes flicking to the space where Merlin hovered. In a rare show of affection, Arthur leaned forward and took one of Morgana’s hands between his own. “I don’t think you’re mad, Morgana. A little unladylike at times, perhaps, but never mad.”
Morgana laughed, and swatted Arthur for his comment; the atmosphere in the room lightened considerably. But Merlin could see, in the way the skin around Morgana’s eyes was still strained, that she was not as comforted by Arthur’s words as he would have her be.
A handmaiden came to help Morgana prepare for the banquet, and the lady excused herself politely. Gwen went with her, offering Merlin a small smile and a worried glance in parting. Merlin waved a hand in an attempt to convey that his mood was nothing to worry about, and went back to watching Arthur. The Prince ignored him, choosing instead to stare out of his window. Merlin wondered what it was Arthur saw when he surveyed his kingdom. Did he, like Merlin, see a Kingdom that would prosper under a just and powerful king? Did he see how glorious Camelot would be under his rule? Biting his lip, Merlin drifted over until he was a hand’s space away from Arthur’s shoulder. He waited, nervous, to see if Arthur would accept his presence or turn him away. Arthur shifted to make room for Merlin at the window and the angel sighed in relief. The Prince had accepted his apology.
oOo
Merlin sighed as watched Arthur harass his knights on the training field. It wasn’t that he did not enjoy the sight of Arthur working up a sweat - it was just that he sympathised with those the Prince chose as his sparring partner. Merlin imagined that duelling with Arthur probably felt much the same as poking a bear with a stick and waiting for it to maul you. Not that he would object to being mauled by Arthur -
Merlin slammed the door on that train of thought and focused his attention on the way Sir Bedivere’s cloak shifted in the breeze. His relationship with the Prince had only just returned to normal and he wasn’t about to jeopardise it. Arthur turned his head, just at the same time as Merlin, and their gaze met. Merlin felt his cheeks heat and Arthur quickly redirected his gaze elsewhere. So much for things being normal, then.
Laughter spilled out across the training ground, and Merlin turned to locate the source. The Lady Morgana was walking across the lawn with a number of noble women, and Merlin noticed from the corner of his eye that several of the knights had lowered their weapons to stare. He smiled and turned back around. Arthur was glaring at him heatedly, and Merlin flushed. He was at a loss as to what he had done to anger the Prince this time, unless it was latent anger about any number of things about Merlin that seemed to annoy his charge. Sulkily, Merlin thought back to how Arthur had had the nerve to berate him for standing by the window. He did not stand there in the hopes of appearing ethereal and angelic. What a ridiculous thing to say. He, like most people, just happened to like watching the sun rise and set.
Arthur called a halt to the drills, and the knights trudged back to the castle wearily. Arthur beckoned a squire over and handed the boy his sword and armour.
“Take them to my chambers, and have someone draw a bath.”
Merlin stood and stretched, and drifted over to accompany the Prince back to the castle. He noticed that Arthur was holding his right arm rather stiffly, and opened his mouth to scold his charge for not giving himself the proper time to heal.
Arthur caught the look and scowled. “Don’t say it.” He warned, striding into his chambers with a distinct air of frustration. Merlin shut his mouth with an audible click and followed in annoyance.
“If you would just listen to me when I tell you things.” He began, hovering beside Arthur’s head as the Prince’s manservant stripped him of his clothes.
Arthur scowled and snapped, “Oh do be quiet Merlin.” Wincing when he felt the manservant start in surprise.
“Sire?” The boy asked timidly, hands fisted in the folds of Arthur’s tunic.
“Not you.” Arthur said flustered. “I was - oh never mind. Get out, I can undress myself.” The boy bowed hurriedly and raced from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Merlin settled himself smugly upon Arthur’s table and preened.
“That wasn’t very polite.” He said, making a point of averting his gaze as Arthur removed his breeches and sank into the hot water waiting for him.
Arthur growled, but the act lost some of its threat when the growl became a groan of appreciation at the temperature of the water. Merlin swiftly hauled his mind out of the gutter.
“I’m just saying -” he proffered, as Arthur began to scrub the sweat from his skin. “He’s only a boy and -”
“Fine, fine. I’ll apologise to him this evening - will that please you?” Arthur demanded, glaring at Merlin through his fringe. Merlin nodded, and drew lazy patterns of the tabletop with a glowing finger. Arthur huffed and reached for the pitcher of water beside the tub before breaking off with a gasp.
Merlin was at his side in an instant, eyes checking everywhere for the slightest hint of damage. The source of the problem became clear when Arthur raised a hand to knead at the knotted muscles of his shoulder. It was impossible for him to get the proper angle and Merlin knew that the Prince would simply be in a foul temper if it was not tended to. With the manservant dismissed he could only see one course of action.
Tentatively, Merlin brushed Arthur’s hand away with his own, and gently worked his fingers into the flesh of Arthur’s shoulder. The Prince tensed at the first touch, but swiftly relented under the pressure. Merlin pressed his thumbs into the skin and let warmth flow into the abused muscles. Arthur groaned in relief and let his head fall against his chest. Merlin’s eyes followed the motion before swiftly jerking back up. Water did not hide much. Too soon for Merlin’s liking, Arthur’s shoulder became loose and pliant beneath his fingers - the muscle regaining its usual mobility. Merlin reluctantly resumed his seat on the table and determinedly did not watch as the Prince finished his bath.
As the sound of splashing water filled the room, Merlin thought, How many question will Gwen ask, if I ask her to help me find a cold bath?
Chapter 8
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.
Notes: This will likely be the last update in a while as I am deserately cramming for my Mods so fic writing is going on hold. If I get a chance I will update but apologies to anyone who hates the long waits between updates. It's about to get even worse.
Never Drive Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Merlin shot backwards away from Arthur.
“Sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He tumbled from the bed in a flurry of wings and knees, landing painfully on his injured side. He yelped with pain, clutching a hand to his shoulder and folding his one good wing around himself as a shield. Merlin stayed huddled in the blanket of feathers, cursing himself for having been so stupid. He could hear Arthur lying on the bed, breathing slighting increased. Merlin winced at the thought of the Prince’s anger. Stroking a hand down the inside of his wing, the angel wondered what he could do to make this better. Perhaps if he promised never to do such a thing again - to never even speak of it? Maybe that would work.
Cautiously, Merlin furled his wing and peeked up at where Arthur was still lying motionless on the bed. There were two spots of colour high on his cheeks, and Merlin could see the Prince’s body vibrating with tension. He cringed.
“I won’t do it again.” Merlin promised. “We can just forget all about it if you like.”
Arthur said nothing for a long while; Merlin chewed the inside of his cheek nervously. “Very well.” The Prince said at last. “And it will never happen again?”
“Never.” Merlin assured him fervently. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I never would have done such a thing if I had been in my right mind. Must have been the fall. Sorry.”
“Not at all.” Arthur said, but his voice was thick and strained and Merlin thought he must be barely keeping his anger in check.
“You go back to sleep.” Merlin said. “I’ve slept enough, I’ll keep watch.” There was nothing much to keep watch for, but Merlin needed an excuse not to get back in the bed, and this seemed as good as any. Arthur nodded mutely and pulled the covers back over himself. Merlin took a seat by the only window in the room and gazed out over the sleeping town. Stars winked overhead and Merlin thought he could almost feel their disapproval.
“I’m sorry.” Merlin whispered beneath his breath. “I’m so sorry.” Bowing his face to his knees, Merlin hid the tears that slid slowly down his cheeks. Outside, it began to rain.
oOo
Uther welcomed the returning knights with royal pride and recognition. A banquet was announced to celebrate their triumph and Arthur, naturally, was the guest of honour. Merlin remained silent throughout the preparations, as the Prince bathed and changed and met with his father. Gwen found him when Morgana came to speak to Arthur, but Merlin found it impossible to tell her what had happened. He only shook his head and returned to watching Arthur interact with the King’s ward. Several times, he felt the oddest sensation when Morgana cast her gaze around the room - it seemed almost as though she were searching for something.
“I trust Gaius’ latest remedy is working?” Arthur said, once the pleasant formalities were out of the way. “You certainly seem better rested than the last time we spoke.”
Morgana smiled, and Gwen muttered in Merlin’s ear that it was rare to see son and ward interacting so pleasantly. “I am. I still dream but that is the curse of all human beings I fear. But Gaius’ potion has dispelled most of the nightmares.”
“And what is it that women dream?” Arthur asked, and Merlin could tell from the smirk on the Prince’s face that he was about to say something that would no doubt result in Morgana unleashing her wit upon him. “Lace and sewing, perhaps? Or the plans for the new herb garden? Surely there can be nothing of much importance in your mind.” The remark was obviously designed to initiate a heated debate, and Merlin wondered if Arthur did not take some form of pleasure in the verbal sparring he conducted with Morgana. But the lady, for all Arthur’s comments should have provoked her ire, simply bit her lip and stared out the window.
“I dream of angels.” She said quietly. “Beautiful creatures, surrounded by warmth and light, watching over the castle and this kingdom. And sometimes, when I am alone in my room, or have had a very trying day, I feel as though - maybe - one of those angels was with me. My own personal guardian.” Morgana’s lips twisted and she smiled bitterly. “You must think me mad.”
Arthur had grown very still when Morgana first spoke the word ‘angel’, eyes flicking to the space where Merlin hovered. In a rare show of affection, Arthur leaned forward and took one of Morgana’s hands between his own. “I don’t think you’re mad, Morgana. A little unladylike at times, perhaps, but never mad.”
Morgana laughed, and swatted Arthur for his comment; the atmosphere in the room lightened considerably. But Merlin could see, in the way the skin around Morgana’s eyes was still strained, that she was not as comforted by Arthur’s words as he would have her be.
A handmaiden came to help Morgana prepare for the banquet, and the lady excused herself politely. Gwen went with her, offering Merlin a small smile and a worried glance in parting. Merlin waved a hand in an attempt to convey that his mood was nothing to worry about, and went back to watching Arthur. The Prince ignored him, choosing instead to stare out of his window. Merlin wondered what it was Arthur saw when he surveyed his kingdom. Did he, like Merlin, see a Kingdom that would prosper under a just and powerful king? Did he see how glorious Camelot would be under his rule? Biting his lip, Merlin drifted over until he was a hand’s space away from Arthur’s shoulder. He waited, nervous, to see if Arthur would accept his presence or turn him away. Arthur shifted to make room for Merlin at the window and the angel sighed in relief. The Prince had accepted his apology.
oOo
Merlin sighed as watched Arthur harass his knights on the training field. It wasn’t that he did not enjoy the sight of Arthur working up a sweat - it was just that he sympathised with those the Prince chose as his sparring partner. Merlin imagined that duelling with Arthur probably felt much the same as poking a bear with a stick and waiting for it to maul you. Not that he would object to being mauled by Arthur -
Merlin slammed the door on that train of thought and focused his attention on the way Sir Bedivere’s cloak shifted in the breeze. His relationship with the Prince had only just returned to normal and he wasn’t about to jeopardise it. Arthur turned his head, just at the same time as Merlin, and their gaze met. Merlin felt his cheeks heat and Arthur quickly redirected his gaze elsewhere. So much for things being normal, then.
Laughter spilled out across the training ground, and Merlin turned to locate the source. The Lady Morgana was walking across the lawn with a number of noble women, and Merlin noticed from the corner of his eye that several of the knights had lowered their weapons to stare. He smiled and turned back around. Arthur was glaring at him heatedly, and Merlin flushed. He was at a loss as to what he had done to anger the Prince this time, unless it was latent anger about any number of things about Merlin that seemed to annoy his charge. Sulkily, Merlin thought back to how Arthur had had the nerve to berate him for standing by the window. He did not stand there in the hopes of appearing ethereal and angelic. What a ridiculous thing to say. He, like most people, just happened to like watching the sun rise and set.
Arthur called a halt to the drills, and the knights trudged back to the castle wearily. Arthur beckoned a squire over and handed the boy his sword and armour.
“Take them to my chambers, and have someone draw a bath.”
Merlin stood and stretched, and drifted over to accompany the Prince back to the castle. He noticed that Arthur was holding his right arm rather stiffly, and opened his mouth to scold his charge for not giving himself the proper time to heal.
Arthur caught the look and scowled. “Don’t say it.” He warned, striding into his chambers with a distinct air of frustration. Merlin shut his mouth with an audible click and followed in annoyance.
“If you would just listen to me when I tell you things.” He began, hovering beside Arthur’s head as the Prince’s manservant stripped him of his clothes.
Arthur scowled and snapped, “Oh do be quiet Merlin.” Wincing when he felt the manservant start in surprise.
“Sire?” The boy asked timidly, hands fisted in the folds of Arthur’s tunic.
“Not you.” Arthur said flustered. “I was - oh never mind. Get out, I can undress myself.” The boy bowed hurriedly and raced from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Merlin settled himself smugly upon Arthur’s table and preened.
“That wasn’t very polite.” He said, making a point of averting his gaze as Arthur removed his breeches and sank into the hot water waiting for him.
Arthur growled, but the act lost some of its threat when the growl became a groan of appreciation at the temperature of the water. Merlin swiftly hauled his mind out of the gutter.
“I’m just saying -” he proffered, as Arthur began to scrub the sweat from his skin. “He’s only a boy and -”
“Fine, fine. I’ll apologise to him this evening - will that please you?” Arthur demanded, glaring at Merlin through his fringe. Merlin nodded, and drew lazy patterns of the tabletop with a glowing finger. Arthur huffed and reached for the pitcher of water beside the tub before breaking off with a gasp.
Merlin was at his side in an instant, eyes checking everywhere for the slightest hint of damage. The source of the problem became clear when Arthur raised a hand to knead at the knotted muscles of his shoulder. It was impossible for him to get the proper angle and Merlin knew that the Prince would simply be in a foul temper if it was not tended to. With the manservant dismissed he could only see one course of action.
Tentatively, Merlin brushed Arthur’s hand away with his own, and gently worked his fingers into the flesh of Arthur’s shoulder. The Prince tensed at the first touch, but swiftly relented under the pressure. Merlin pressed his thumbs into the skin and let warmth flow into the abused muscles. Arthur groaned in relief and let his head fall against his chest. Merlin’s eyes followed the motion before swiftly jerking back up. Water did not hide much. Too soon for Merlin’s liking, Arthur’s shoulder became loose and pliant beneath his fingers - the muscle regaining its usual mobility. Merlin reluctantly resumed his seat on the table and determinedly did not watch as the Prince finished his bath.
As the sound of splashing water filled the room, Merlin thought, How many question will Gwen ask, if I ask her to help me find a cold bath?
Chapter 8