I suck with subjects - we have already been through that.
Title: Shur'tugalar Rïsa.
Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin, a bit of Arthur/Gwen, and a bit of Gwen/Lancelot, even a bit of Merlin/Morgana. Later on, anyway.
Warnings: Violence, dragons, elves, magic. Y'know, fantasy stuff.
Spoiler(s): Nope. None at all.
Word count: 3943 for this chapter.
Rating: PG. At the moment, anyway. Different chapters may change.
Summary: AU, based on the Inheritence Cycle books by Christopher Paolini - you don't need to have read them to follow this story, however. Merlin is an elf with blue eyes - rare - who is Rider to a white dragon - also rare. He is broken, and the last hope for training the new Rider when the final free egg hatches. It does hatch, to Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther, King of the nation Surda. The egg hatches for Arthur while visiting the Varden - he picked it up when someone dropped it, and it hatched. Uther hates Riders and doesn't want his son to be one, but Arthur is adament. So he goes back to Du Weldenvarden to be training by Merlin and his dragon, Aravae. They dislike each other from the start.
Author's Notes: I utterly adore Christopher Paolini's books, and I've always wanted to write something based on them. I was thinking and thinking and I came up with this. I've loved writing it, and I hope that you enjoy reading it. The title means Dragon Riders Rise in the Ancient Language, the ones used in the books. I couldn't come up with anything I liked in English, so I used that instead.
Author's Note II: Chapter nine. Ah, chapter nine. I have been looking forward to writing this chapter - read it to find out why. Anyway, it's another one that didn't quite reach four thousand words, just because there wasn't really anything left for me to say. In this chapter, Merlin tries to cheer Arthur up with some fun in the snow, but ends up just making things worse.
It is winter.
Winter in Alagaësia does not really get that cold. In the mountains, it gets cold. But on the land, where it is flat and dry, it doesn’t get that cold. The temperature drops a little and the crops stop growing, but really, there isn’t that much snow. Not in most places, anyway. And certainly not in Surda, close as it is to the desert. No, Surda does not get snow.
However, Merlin knows somewhere that does. And it is to that somewhere that he wants to take Arthur to cheer him up. Unfortunately, Arthur knew the castle in Aberon a lot better than Merlin and the elf had lost the blonde Rider in the twisting corridors of stone, and now he was wearing a mildly pissed off expression.
He continued storming about the castle, slanted eyebrows drawing closer together in a harsh scowl. Where had the great prat gone now?!
He rounded a corner and nearly crashed in a pale, dark haired young woman. Merlin quickly rearranged his face into an apologetic smile, not wanting to scare her with his scowl, which he knew from what people had told him was pretty scary.
“I am very sorry. I was not paying attention,” Merlin said. The woman looked at him, and Merlin saw that she was incredibly pretty, with pale eyes to match her pale skin and a lot of dark hair and rather impressive…woman-ly parts. Or they looked rather impressive from where Merlin was standing, at least.
“Oh, no, I am sorry. Oh, hello!” the woman said. He eyes went to Merlin’s ears, then her eyes widened. “Are you Merlin?” she asked.
“Yes. May I enquire as to your name?” Merlin asked politely. The woman smiled.
“I am Morgana. Is it true what they say about blue eyes elves?” she asked. Merlin smiled faintly - so this was Morgana, and this was the first thing she asked him.
“See for yourself,” Merlin said cryptically.
Morgana frowned and Merlin raised a hand. Without even looking at it, a small blue ball of light appeared there, and then floated in front of Morgan’s face, humming faintly in a happy manner. Morgana looked amazed, and Merlin smiled and curled his fingers inwards, putting the light out.
“I guess it is true,” Morgana whispered. Merlin nodded.
“Every word,” he smiled.
‘Arthur is with us,’ Aravae said, and Merlin started.
“Morgana, I am afraid I have to go. I’ll see you around,” Merlin said, and set off in that loping run of his, faster than any human as he bounded towards where he thought - hoped - an exit was.
People and windows and doors flashed past as he sprinted, strides long as he loped gracefully through everything, eventually bursting outside to find that Arthur had just strapped himself into the saddle.
“Arthur! Wait! There is somewhere I want to show you!” Merlin cried. Arthur looked at him, so hurt and betrayed.
“Fine. Hurry up,” he said in a voice so devoid of emotion it made Merlin’s chest ache hollowly.
He quickly climbed into Aravae’s saddled and strapped himself in. Both dragons took off and Merlin let Aravae know where it was he wanted to go. Vesparr followed behind, Arthur’s face still totally devoid of anything except extreme betrayal and hurt. Merlin urged Aravae faster and she obliged, and he heard Vesparr’s wing beats get faster, too.
Eventually they arrived, and Aravae landed in the snow, Vesparr close behind. Merlin unstrapped his legs and leapt down, landing knee deep into freezing snow that matched the colour of Aravae’s scales almost exactly. He turned to look at Arthur, who was still strapped into the saddle, staring at the white, sparkling carpet on the ground. Then his gaze lifted and he gave an almost inaudible gasp.
They were in a clearing that was roughly circular. There was a lake in the middle, and it was framed all around by trees and then a huge cliff. Pouring off the cliff was a waterfall, but it was so cold up here - and Merlin wished he’d had the sense to grab some warmer clothes before he’d left - that the lake had frozen, and so had the waterfall. Little water droplets were frozen halfway through the process of flying off the usually gushing water. It sparkled in the light, and there was a thick blanket glittering white snow coating the ground.
“It’s beautiful,” Arthur murmured reverently. “How did you find out about it?”
“I was brought here by the other Riders. Never when it was this cold, I admit, but it doesn’t look too shabby in summer, either,” Merlin smiled, stretching his limbs and starting to wade through the snow towards the lake.
“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.
“I,” Merlin said, pausing as he reached the edge of the frozen lake, “am going skating. Come join me - it’s fun.”
With that said, Merlin stepped onto the ice. He took a couple of tentative steps before he started to lose his footing, his feet sliding about madly. His arms, which Arthur had never noticed were so long and gangly before, were flailing madly, and he was laughing in such an open, free, childish way that Arthur couldn’t help sliding down off Vesparr saddle into the cold snow and wading over, stepping cautiously onto the ice. The incredible grin Merlin flashed him was worth the cold, and the fact that his feet went straight out from underneath him and now his rear end was wet and cold. Merlin merely laughed, doing that ungainly skate-walk over to him to offer him a hand to help him up.
Merlin yanked Arthur upwards and over the course of the next couple of hours, Arthur taught himself how to skate-walk on the slippery ice. He chased Merlin and Merlin chased him and Aravae and Vesparr sat in the snow and occasionally flicked some at each other, but mostly they just sat there and watched their Riders. It was when the snow started to fall in big, fat flakes, twirling and flurrying in that intricate, beautiful dance that only snow can manage, that Aravae said anything.
‘Do you not think that maybe we should head home?’ she asked, flicking her head sharply as a flake landed on her nose. Vesparr tilted his head back and caught a flake on his long tongue. Both Riders followed suit, grinning as the cold flakes melted on their warm, wet tongues.
‘I like the snow!’ Vesparr declared, catching another snow flake.
“So do I. I think we should stay,” Arthur said. “I’ve never seen it before,” he added as an afterthought.
“I think we should stay, too,” Merlin declared. Aravae rumbled her displeasure but agreed, shifting her weight in the snow unhappily.
Suddenly, Merlin’s eyes lit up. Arthur blinked against the brightness, his mouth hanging open slightly in amazement. He looked so impossibly breathtaking like that.
“Watch this!” he cried. Arthur nodded.
Merlin vanished into the trees at one side of the lake. Arthur watched where he had disappeared intently, and then moments later he came bombing out at top speed, flinging himself onto the ice. He slid along on his chest, legs and arms raised, laughing loudly. He rammed into the snow at the other side of the lake and some fall on top of him, but he merely jumped up and grinned at Arthur.
“Try it!” he called. Arthur looked sceptical, but went to give it a try.
He slid across the ice in the same way Merlin had, and he too was laughing. Merlin hadn’t lied - it was a lot of fun. He too ended up covered in snow, and he was laughing so hard he got a mouthful of the stuff too. He leapt up and spat it out, grinning at Merlin. He saw that the elf had a rough sphere of snow in his hands, and Arthur tilted his head, frowning at his teacher.
“What is that?” he asked. Merlin grinned in a slightly evil way.
“A snowball,” the elf informed him. Arthur’s frown deepened.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“This.”
And with that, Merlin launched the snowball right at Arthur’s face. It exploded against his forehead and Arthur gave a very startled cry. Merlin darted away, laughing, and Arthur growled competitively and bent down to make his own snowball, only to have another smash against the small of his back. He yelped and snapped upwards, spinning and flinging his own snowball at Merlin. He tried to dodge but was the smallest moment too late, and the snow grazed his hip, partially exploding before landing with a thump in the snow behind him.
They continued in this vain for some time, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing. Merlin was faster and his aim better, so he hit his target far more often than Arthur hit his, but Arthur did get a fair few of his throws on the mark. Merlin’s musical laugh melded perfectly with Arthur’s deep chuckles, and to Arthur, it sounded like the most beautiful symphony. It was perfection.
It was only when Merlin started to become breathless that they stopped. When an elf became breathless, you knew you’d been working hard. Arthur was panting and laughing and he didn’t seem to have enough breath to breathe and laugh at the same time, but he couldn’t help it.
Merlin was grinning widely - it seemed that his plan to cheer Arthur up had worked. Very well, in fact. Arthur was laughing breathlessly, bent over his knees, hands planted on the joints, trying to get his breath back, all thoughts of Guinevere and Lancelot forgotten. Merlin’s grin grew wider still - yes, he was good at this.
Suddenly, Arthur leapt forward and tackled him. His strong arms locked around Merlin’s waist and they both fell into the snow with an oof! Arthur was sprawled on top of him, laughing away to himself.
“Got you!” he cried triumphantly, moving back to look down at Merlin.
Arthur’s blue gaze slowly lowered to Merlin’s lips. God, they looked delicious right now, more red than pink because of the cold. The look in Merlin’s eyes made Arthur’s heart constrict in the most pleasant way possible, and his lips were slightly parted. Arthur took that as an invitation and lowered his head until his lips met Merlin’s.
Merlin gave the softest gasp imaginable as Arthur’s lips descended over his. They were soft, though a little chapped, and gentle, teasing and testing, trying to find out if Merlin wanted this too. Merlin, who had been totally frozen, suddenly thawed. His arms moved to wrap around Arthur’s neck, one hand tangling into his golden hair, tugging him closer. Of course he wanted this. He had wanted this since the first damn time he had laid eyes on the great blonde prat, he had just not wanted to admit it to himself. After so long of training himself not to become attached after those closest to him had died, feeling this…feeling this was like starting all over again. He felt it all over, a warmth he couldn’t even begin to describe. It filled him, bubbling over as he kissed Arthur back desperately, needing this just as much as the blonde seemed to.
Arthur had been wrong - Merlin’s lips were even softer than they looked.
Merlin pulled away, and Arthur keened in disappointment. He ducked his head again but Merlin stopped him. Arthur frowned at him, sadness clouding his beautiful blue eyes. Merlin immediately felt bad for that - just as he was cheering up, Merlin made him sad again. But there was a reason.
“Arthur, I can’t breathe,” Merlin murmured. Arthur was still on top of him, and his broad frame weighed a lot more than Merlin’s narrow one.
Arthur gave a soft oh and got up, dragging Merlin with him. As soon as they were back on their feet, Merlin lurched forward again, capturing Arthur’s lips with his own, one pale hand tangled into Arthur’s silky hair, the other splayed and pressed against his lower back. Arthur’s arms were wrapped tightly around Merlin’s slender, muscled back, crushing their chests together.
Merlin had never done this before, and that was clear in way he kissed. It was a little nervous, a little tentative, cautious. His lips were quivering slightly and though inexperienced, it was without a doubt the best kiss Arthur had ever had. Because it was with Merlin and he was incredible and perfect and everything about him made Arthur fall that little bit harder for him every single day. And it was impossible and improbable but he was kissing Merlin Emrys and nothing seemed to matter except the way Merlin was arching his spine slightly and kissing him in that nervous, cautious way of someone who had never been kissed before. Merlin was centuries old and yet he’d never been kissed, and it made Arthur feel incredibly privileged to know that he was the very first person to kiss him, to make him gasp and moan softly and card his fingers through Arthur’s hair and try to get as close as possible. Yes, he felt privileged for that. The honour was, and always would be, entirely his.
Arthur gently reached out his warm, wet tongue to run it along Merlin’s bottom lip, warmer now from their kissing. Merlin made a startled little noise but parted his lips further, timidly granting Arthur’s access. And Arthur had never known Merlin do anything - anything at all - as anything but utterly confident, so the fact that he was so timid now, so perfectly willing to give over everything to Arthur, to let him lead at this one thing that he didn’t know how to do…that made Arthur make a happy noise in the back of his throat, and he pressed his tongue forward between Merlin’s teeth.
Their tongues met and Merlin mewled in surprise. It felt incredible, Arthur’s tongue moving gently against his, exploring his mouth, finding things out that neither Rider had ever really thought they’d ever know. And now they were here, with Arthur’s tongue twining around Merlin’s, with Merlin so unsure of himself for once. It felt weird for him to be following rather than leading - in this relationship, he was the leader. But not in this, because this was one thing Merlin had never experienced before. This was one thing that Arthur would have to teach him.
And then Merlin was pushing Arthur backwards, not letting go, their tongues still entwined. He slammed Arthur against the waterfall - how they managed to get there without falling over on the ice was a mystery to both of them - and little bits of ice shattered and fell musically to the ice below. Arthur knew he’d have bruises tomorrow but he didn’t even notice the pain - all he was focussed on was the feel of Merlin’s lips against his, of their bodies pressed together. The ice against his back was cold and uncomfortable, but it just didn’t matter.
Merlin disengaged his mouth from Arthur’s and Arthur whined unhappily, but then his mouth was kissing along Arthur’s jaw and Arthur tilted his head back to give him better access, groaning when Merlin nipped at the spot where his jaw line met his neck. Just as Merlin’s lips were about to start attacking his neck, Arthur surged himself forward and spun them until Merlin was pressed against the hard rock of the cliff behind the waterfall.
Merlin groaned and Arthur pressed kisses onto his closed eyes, over the sharp bones of his cheeks, along his jaw. Merlin sighed happily and let his head slowly fall back, baring his throat to Arthur in submission. Submission. Merlin was submitting to him. Arthur purred in triumph and pressed his lips against the cool, pale skin he found there, swiping his tongue over afterwards, tasting the dizzying taste of Merlin. This was everything that he had imagined it would be and so much more beside. He kissed a trail down to the opening of Merlin’s tunic, his breath caressing the elf’s skin, and Merlin was moaning softly and it felt like everywhere Arthur touched - with his lips especially - was burning. But it felt good. Impossibly so.
And then their lips were moving against each other again, their tongues battling for dominance - a fight that Arthur won, for once - hands roaming and discovering things. Arthur had never imagined that he’d get to explore Merlin’s long, lean, muscled body like this, and he was taking the chance while he still had it, and Merlin certainly wasn’t complaining. In fact, his own hands were running over Arthur’s back, clinging at his shoulders, slipping easily through his hair. They were seemingly everywhere all at once, and it was almost too much for both of them to take.
Merlin felt warm. Hot. All over. He was fuzzy, hot and breathless in all the best ways. This was like nothing he had ever experienced before in his life, and he had been around for some time now. But this was Arthur. This was Arthur and he was perfect and beautiful and he was Arthur. And his tongue was rubbing against Merlin’s in an impossibly intimate manner and the taste, oh the taste was just incredible - there were no words that could adequately describe how good Arthur Pendragon tasted. And the heat was filling him up, and then it was spilling over because there was just no more room for it inside of him. A roaring noise started and Merlin felt water splash against his face, and Arthur pulled away and turned around and the waterfall was moving again, perfect and loud. Merlin knew that he had caused that, that he’d lost control of his magic because of passion and that wasn’t good. With a brief flash of gold the waterfall was frozen again.
He unwrapped Arthur’s arms from around him and tried to get away. He fell, and stood again, managing to get over to the edge and starting to wade as fast as he could through the snow. His lips were still tingling pleasantly from the way Arthur’s had moved over them. They had melded together perfectly, as if they had been made to fit together. But it was too much, and Merlin had to get away. He leapt into the trees, still running.
“Merlin!” Arthur called behind him, but Merlin did not look back. He could imagine the look on the blonde’s face, and he knew that his resolve would crumble if he looked back and saw it.
He heard Aravae rumble and take off. Moments later a dark shadow was above him and a tail appeared between the trees, Aravae hovering above them. Merlin jumped and grabbed hold of the end, and Aravae raised her strong tail until he could get into the saddle, and he strapped his legs in. Merlin rested his forehead against the spine in front of him, groaning.
‘Now you know, Little One. Now you know what I would not tell you.’
Back in the clearing, Arthur fell to his knees. He felt hollow and empty, and there was an aching sense of loss in his chest. He watched Aravae fly away and as Vesparr poked his head around the side of the waterfall, the ice groaning beneath his weight, the first tears started to fall slowly down Arthur’s face.
----
Aravae kept flying back towards Surda, Merlin slumped in the saddle.
‘How did I not notice before?’ he asked. Aravae sighed.
‘Because you were not looking for it. You lost those closest to you, and ever since then you have pushed people away. You do not want to form attachments because you are scared that you will lose them like you did with the other Riders. It has been right in front of you the entire time, Merlin - you just didn’t want to see it.’
‘Arthur…he’s always felt that way, hasn’t he?’
‘Since the day you met.’
Merlin sighed heavily. So all the arrogance, all the…all the everything…had just been to hide what he was feeling from Merlin. To hide it from the observant elf, except sometimes he had been unable to hide it, and Merlin had been ridiculously, stupidly unobservant. He hadn’t noticed. And now he had and he’d kissed Arthur and he felt the same. Oh, God, he felt the same.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Merlin asked Aravae. She rumbled softly.
‘Because some things, Little One, need to be discovered on your own.’
She landed in Aberon then, and Merlin slid down, walking towards the castle looking thoughtful. People bowed their heads and murmured respectful words, but Merlin didn’t even notice. He had hurt Arthur. He knew that he had hurt Arthur, and he had no idea how he was meant to fix it, or even where he was meant to start.
He entered the shady castle hallway and started in the vague direction of his rooms. Where was Arthur now? Was he still at the clearing? Merlin didn’t know. He didn’t want to go back and check, either. He knew that his resolve would not last long if he did. Aravae had known. How had Merlin not seen the signs? All the times he had looked at Arthur and marvelled at how handsome he was. The times around the fire when he seemed to glow golden all over, the flickering firelight send his stunning features into high relief, making him seem better looking than ever, which Merlin hadn’t even thought was possible.
And all those times that Merlin was healing his wounds, his cuts and his bruises and that painful burn, and Arthur had shivered under his touch. It hadn’t been because his hands were cold. Merlin knew that now. He knew that now, and now he had ruined it. Because he was an idiot.
He rounded a corner and bumped into Morgana again. He started, startled, and they brushed themselves down.
“I am very sorry, Lady Morgana. Please forgive me,” Merlin said. Morgana smiled.
“Ah, do not worry, Merlin. And please, just call me Morgana,” she said. Merlin nodded.
“As you wish, Morgana.”
“You have snow in your hair.” Morgana reached out to brush some away, and Merlin smiled wryly.
“Yes. I took Arthur to see his first snow.”
“And is my brother back too?”
“No. He…he stayed there. He liked the snow and wanted to spend some more time there,” Merlin lied. It was the only way.
“Oh.”
They stood there for a moment, and then Morgana looked around to see if anyone was coming. Then, without warning, he was slammed against the wall and Morgana had pressed her lips forcefully against his.
It was much softer and gentler that Arthur’s kiss. Much less desperate. Merlin had a feeling Morgana wanted him to lead, but it felt all wrong. Morgana’s body was too soft and slender against his. She wasn’t strong enough, and she didn’t smell or taste right. She wasn’t Arthur.
“Morgana! Morgana, no!” Merlin managed against her lips. She pulled away and looked at him, desperation clear in her eyes.
“But Merlin! I’m magic, too! I see things in my dreams. Uther doesn’t trust magic. Please, Merlin!” she whispered. Merlin just shook his head.
“I am sorry, truly I am. But I cannot do this. I just…I just can’t.”
And with that, he turned and hurried away. Morgana stood there, watching him go sadly. Aravae pressed her own sadness over their link. She understood. Of course she did, because she could see in Merlin’s head.
‘I am sorry, Little One.’