Merlin FF: And eyes without speaking confess [Arthur/Merlin; R]
Title: And eyes without speaking confess
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R, but barely
Length: 2,300
Disclaimer: All belongs to the BBC
Spoilers: Through 1.03, but set in a few different timelines
Summary: Five ways the secret isn't revealed.
AN: Varying degrees of angst and fluff, depending on the reveal in question. Some character death.
Audio version: rhea314 was kind enough to make a podfic version here.
1.
He has been with Arthur six months. He’s careless, and he gets caught with the book. The sentence for sorcery is death, and everyone knows that. Uther passes judgement without hesitation. Not for Merlin’s stammered rationalisation, and not for Arthur’s blank, betrayed expression.
Gwen visits, and Gaius, and even Morgana. Merlin denies their offers of help. If he is to die, he will not take them with him. At the end, he is calm. This too, must be destiny, for there is nothing he can do about it.
When they let him speak, Merlin says, “I was given these gifts for a reason. I was to ensure Arthur succeeded you, that he lived to be the king he’s supposed to be. Without me, he’ll be killed.”
“Is that a threat?” Uther bites.
“A prediction.”
Merlin had wondered, before, whether he should have listened to the Dragon. A great beast like that, bound and imprisoned, who should have no love of the family keeping him that way. Not once during the trial has Merlin mentioned the Dragon, for fear they would take it as further confirmation that he was mad, and not to be trusted. So he will not tell them now; he will keep this small secret. Let them wonder, after, how he knew what would happen.
“You are a traitor,” Uther says. “You have wormed your way into the royal household so you could murder my heir.”
“If I wanted Arthur dead, he would be dead!” The candles flicker, the tapestries lift. Merlin says, “All I did, all I have ever done, is keep him safe. I have clothed him, I have poured his wine, I have sharpened his weapons. If I wanted him dead, he would be dead.”
Uther rises to his feet, walking over the flagstones to stand only a few paces away from Merlin. “If you are so great, sorcerer, why do you stand there? Why don’t you free yourself?”
Merlin pulls at the chains on his wrists and ankles, demonstrating their strength. Then he looks at Arthur, standing against the far wall. He nods his head, and Uther looks. Everyone looks. Merlin stirs the sword on Arthur’s belt, pulling lightly at the hilt. He gets it halfway out, while Arthur’s face pales, watching Merlin in fear. Merlin shrugs, making the chains clink. “I could kill him, and the first few guards. But then one of them would kill me, and Arthur would still be dead.” Merlin drops his hold on the sword. “So.”
Uther’s fury is terrible, but it changes nothing. Merlin is dragged away, and tied in the middle of the pyre. Torches are lit, and carried. The smoke stings his nose, and the fire creeps ever closer.
Merlin carries a breath of air to Arthur’s ear. “Watch your back,” he says. “I can’t do it for you.”
The flames hurt, but Arthur is there, and Merlin does not remember him attending an execution before.
2.
Merlin is drunk, and he turns to Gwen and says, “Look at them! Just, look.”
‘Them’, is Morgana and Arthur, engaged in yet another one of their complicated dances, literally and figuratively. The problem, really, is that they are three floors below him, and Merlin is watching them in a bowl of water.
Gwen and he are banished from the evening’s festivities. Technically, Merlin supposes, what they have been given is a night off. Together. The intentions of their master and mistress may have been good, but it has only resulted in this. Gwen, covering her mouth with her hand, staring at Merlin.
Gwen says, “So you didn’t lie, before.”
“Before, when? I’m lying now. It’s all… mirrors. Yeah, mirrors. Easy trick, really.”
She ignores him. “When you said it was you. When you said it was your fault I was arrested. Don’t lie to me.”
“Yeah. Okay, yeah. Yeah that was me. But Gwen, I swear I didn’t mean to-”
“You saved my father’s life.”
“No, but you see, all I was trying to do was- Wait, what?”
“You saved his life.”
“Well. Yes. You seemed… and I didn’t want you to…” He stops, and looks at her. Gwen is smiling at him, the way she does, sometimes. And Arthur’s an idiot, because it’s nothing like the way Morgana looks at Arthur, or he at her. It’s just gentle. Fond, and a little exasperated. And Merlin thinks that perhaps he did lie before. He does love her.
Gwen wraps her arms around him warmly, and pulls back again. “Show me something else.”
“Something like what?” Merlin pulls the bowl back towards him with a thought, laughing at how astonished she is. He knows that modesty is a virtue, but he has wanted so long to show someone else what he can do.
She spins the water with her finger. “Surely we can find something more interesting to watch than our master and mistress arguing over who leads the dancing.”
Merlin considers for a moment. “I can’t think of a thing.”
Gwen laughs. “Me neither.”
Merlin passes his hand over the water, and they bend their heads closer together, watching the show.
3.
It’s another tournament, but this time Merlin is no child, and Arthur is too closely tied to him for Merlin to hesitate. The things fly down at Arthur, black and leather-winged, spitting something dark and foul. They’re like a nightmare of bats; Merlin knows they will haunt his dreams.
Merlin doesn’t think, he moves. The other knight was dead in the first onslaught, killed by the creatures he had summoned. Arthur holds them off, but barely - his sword flashes in the air like sunlight. Merlin runs.
He does the first thing he can think of to hold them off. He grabs Arthur’s shield arm, something flies towards them, and the world flashes gold. When he opens his eyes, they sting with heat. There is a whirlwind of fire pulled around them, dashing wind and sand and flame. He has never conjured something this big before.
Arthur’s hand grasps at his sleeve. Merlin turns around, no time for reassurance, with magic coursing through his veins and setting the air alight. Arthur doesn’t need it - his eyes are blue and wild, but without accusation. He looks excited. He says, “Merlin,” and nothing else. Arthur's laughter is that of the warrior king he has yet to become. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is sweat-dark on his forehead. "Let them through," he orders.
"One at a time."
"Two."
Merlin does, keeping the winds hurling around them. Arthur takes out the first pair with one swipe. They get smarter. The next pair take one stab and one stroke. None take more than four strokes.
After, when they stop coming, and Arthur's hand is braced on Merlin's shoulder, they hear shouting.
Merlin snaps back, "you can't have him, I won't let you through."
"Merlin," the voice calls, slow and afraid, "it's Gaius. You must stop this now. Arthur is safe."
Arthur is not safe. Arthur will never be safe. Merlin spends all of his time and energy trying to protect him and this still happens. Things still get through. It would be better, Merlin thinks, just to keep hold of the flames, although they singe his palms. Arthur would be safe that way.
But Arthur nods, and Merlin drops the spell. The release knocks both of them to the ground, and Merlin stands first. He calls Arthur’s sword to him, and passes it to Arthur when he stands.
Arthur says, “Come,” and begins to walk.
“They’re going to- They won’t-”
Arthur smiles at him, crooked with wry amusement. “They can’t have you, I won’t let them through.” He takes Merlin’s sword arm. “Now come along. This is probably going to require some explanation.”
4.
He had been with Arthur six months when it happened. Caught where he shouldn’t be, consulting with the Dragon about magic gone awry in the court. Uther had passed judgement without hesitation, with no thought of his son’s defiance.
Merlin is led along the walls by the King’s guards. He has been expected.
Arthur is grown: his face is more lined, with a cropped blond beard. He wears his father’s crown now. In Merlin’s head, he had been grown before, dragging Merlin from the cell and throwing him onto the back of a horse. Telling him to run and never come back. Not to be so stupid in the new life he would build.
Merlin bows to just above his waist, with his hands clasped behind his back. He’s not Arthur’s servant anymore. “My lord.”
“Merlin.”
“You summoned me.”
Arthur laughs, though it sounds as though it is being choked out of him. “Summoned’s not exactly the right word now, is it? I had the kingdom scoured for you.”
Merlin nods, and concedes this point. Though he had come, when he heard it was Arthur who was looking for him. He has been waiting three years for Arthur to come looking for him.
Arthur says, “Village physician? Surely a sorcerer can do better than that?”
“I thought you didn’t believe I was a sorcerer? I thought I was an idiot who got caught with a book I didn’t know how to use and a lizard who spun me stories. I thought I had pretensions above my station, and needed my master to rescue me. Again.”
“All right then,” Arthur says, “Prove me wrong.”
Merlin stands on the walls of Camelot, looking over the kingdom. He raises his arms. There is a flash, and an almighty crack of thunder. Rain begins to fall on the parched ground. The people come running out of their homes.
Arthur turns to him, shining even with his sodden cloak, and the water caught in his eyelashes. He laughs, and pulls Merlin clumsily against him.
When he is released, Merlin bows again. “Sire.”
“Merlin,” Arthur says. “Stay.”
“Yes,” Merlin says, “All right then.”
Arthur drapes his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, keeping him close enough that his heat warms Merlin’s damp skin. He is warm all over, or perhaps this is just the destiny talking. Merlin had been cold, so far away from Camelot. As if he was only half himself, half what he should be. Even his magic had been half-hearted. Arthur stands beside him, and is warm against the rain.
5.
He is not a child. He has control. He has control. He has- He is lying in Arthur’s bed, and neither of them are models of self-control right now. The difference is that when Arthur loses his control, his fingers press too hard on Merlin’s hips, and leave circles of bruises. His teeth make dents on Merlin’s shoulder when he kisses him there, and up his neck, and whispers, “God, Merlin” as though he had meant to say anything else.
When Merlin loses control, the room shakes. Weapons clatter off their hooks, the curtains stir in an unnatural breeze, and the bed thumps against the wall. All because Arthur had bent his fingers just so.
Merlin scrambles off the bed, and dares a glance at Arthur. He says, “I’m supposed to protect you. Lady Helena, and the Knight Valiant? I’m supposed to- That’s all. I promise. I wouldn’t ever-” He keeps talking, barely knowing what he is saying, forgetting the speeches he had prepared for when this day came.
Arthur is barely covered by the blankets on the bed, his breath still heavy from what they had been doing before the interruption. He doesn’t speak, but his hand twitches for lack of a weapon.
Merlin says, “My loyalty is to you. Always. That’s what I have the powers for. You and the kingdom.” If Merlin was another man, in another life, he would kneel in front of his prince, and lay a sword at his feet. But Merlin has no sword, and he does not kneel. He sits on the edge of the bed, and looks at the floor.
Arthur says, “How long?”
“Since I was a child.”
“And would you ever have told me?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Yes, I would have. When you were king, and you needed me.”
“I don’t need you now? Haven’t already? If what you say is true…”
“I think,” Merlin says, haltingly, “I think it’ll get worse before it gets better. I think this is going to be hard.”
“And what? You’ve been sent to me to be my strong right arm? To fight my battles for me?”
Merlin raises his gaze to Arthur’s face, startled. “No! No, that’s not it. I’m to be your left arm. Your shield arm. You already have a sword, and you use it better than I could. You know that.” He touches the bend of Arthur’s elbow, bare skin warm under Merlin’s fingertips.
Arthur smiles reluctantly. “You’re un-teachable.”
“I have other skills.”
“I knew that already.” Merlin blushes and, after a moment, Arthur colours too. “I didn’t mean that. My God, your mind…”
“In my defence…” Merlin gestures to Arthur’s unclothed state, to the low candles and the thick air of the room.
“Yes,” Arthur says, “well. Shall we get back to it then?”
Merlin would laugh - Arthur’s awkward moments have always been rather at odds with the Dragon’s predictions of kingly greatness - but Arthur’s hand moves again. Rough but not without a small tenderness. Strong arms turning them over, even as Merlin commands the room back into order again, and the sheets to rearrange themselves. It’s possible this wasn’t what the Dragon meant when he talked about their complementary talents. Merlin finds it difficult to care about that right now.
“Merlin?” Arthur asks, pulling away for a too-long moment.
“Yes?”
“You will tell me, later?”
“Tell you what?”
“What you know. What’s coming. Why I need-”
“Me? I’ll tell you what I know. It’s not much. Just that-”
“We’re going to have to do it together.”
“Yes.”
“I knew that already.” Arthur curls his right arm around Merlin, rolling them back again. His eyes are bright, and unafraid. He will be king, someday, and Merlin will stand alongside him.
Merlin blinks, and the candles douse themselves.
FIN.
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R, but barely
Length: 2,300
Disclaimer: All belongs to the BBC
Spoilers: Through 1.03, but set in a few different timelines
Summary: Five ways the secret isn't revealed.
AN: Varying degrees of angst and fluff, depending on the reveal in question. Some character death.
Audio version: rhea314 was kind enough to make a podfic version here.
1.
He has been with Arthur six months. He’s careless, and he gets caught with the book. The sentence for sorcery is death, and everyone knows that. Uther passes judgement without hesitation. Not for Merlin’s stammered rationalisation, and not for Arthur’s blank, betrayed expression.
Gwen visits, and Gaius, and even Morgana. Merlin denies their offers of help. If he is to die, he will not take them with him. At the end, he is calm. This too, must be destiny, for there is nothing he can do about it.
When they let him speak, Merlin says, “I was given these gifts for a reason. I was to ensure Arthur succeeded you, that he lived to be the king he’s supposed to be. Without me, he’ll be killed.”
“Is that a threat?” Uther bites.
“A prediction.”
Merlin had wondered, before, whether he should have listened to the Dragon. A great beast like that, bound and imprisoned, who should have no love of the family keeping him that way. Not once during the trial has Merlin mentioned the Dragon, for fear they would take it as further confirmation that he was mad, and not to be trusted. So he will not tell them now; he will keep this small secret. Let them wonder, after, how he knew what would happen.
“You are a traitor,” Uther says. “You have wormed your way into the royal household so you could murder my heir.”
“If I wanted Arthur dead, he would be dead!” The candles flicker, the tapestries lift. Merlin says, “All I did, all I have ever done, is keep him safe. I have clothed him, I have poured his wine, I have sharpened his weapons. If I wanted him dead, he would be dead.”
Uther rises to his feet, walking over the flagstones to stand only a few paces away from Merlin. “If you are so great, sorcerer, why do you stand there? Why don’t you free yourself?”
Merlin pulls at the chains on his wrists and ankles, demonstrating their strength. Then he looks at Arthur, standing against the far wall. He nods his head, and Uther looks. Everyone looks. Merlin stirs the sword on Arthur’s belt, pulling lightly at the hilt. He gets it halfway out, while Arthur’s face pales, watching Merlin in fear. Merlin shrugs, making the chains clink. “I could kill him, and the first few guards. But then one of them would kill me, and Arthur would still be dead.” Merlin drops his hold on the sword. “So.”
Uther’s fury is terrible, but it changes nothing. Merlin is dragged away, and tied in the middle of the pyre. Torches are lit, and carried. The smoke stings his nose, and the fire creeps ever closer.
Merlin carries a breath of air to Arthur’s ear. “Watch your back,” he says. “I can’t do it for you.”
The flames hurt, but Arthur is there, and Merlin does not remember him attending an execution before.
2.
Merlin is drunk, and he turns to Gwen and says, “Look at them! Just, look.”
‘Them’, is Morgana and Arthur, engaged in yet another one of their complicated dances, literally and figuratively. The problem, really, is that they are three floors below him, and Merlin is watching them in a bowl of water.
Gwen and he are banished from the evening’s festivities. Technically, Merlin supposes, what they have been given is a night off. Together. The intentions of their master and mistress may have been good, but it has only resulted in this. Gwen, covering her mouth with her hand, staring at Merlin.
Gwen says, “So you didn’t lie, before.”
“Before, when? I’m lying now. It’s all… mirrors. Yeah, mirrors. Easy trick, really.”
She ignores him. “When you said it was you. When you said it was your fault I was arrested. Don’t lie to me.”
“Yeah. Okay, yeah. Yeah that was me. But Gwen, I swear I didn’t mean to-”
“You saved my father’s life.”
“No, but you see, all I was trying to do was- Wait, what?”
“You saved his life.”
“Well. Yes. You seemed… and I didn’t want you to…” He stops, and looks at her. Gwen is smiling at him, the way she does, sometimes. And Arthur’s an idiot, because it’s nothing like the way Morgana looks at Arthur, or he at her. It’s just gentle. Fond, and a little exasperated. And Merlin thinks that perhaps he did lie before. He does love her.
Gwen wraps her arms around him warmly, and pulls back again. “Show me something else.”
“Something like what?” Merlin pulls the bowl back towards him with a thought, laughing at how astonished she is. He knows that modesty is a virtue, but he has wanted so long to show someone else what he can do.
She spins the water with her finger. “Surely we can find something more interesting to watch than our master and mistress arguing over who leads the dancing.”
Merlin considers for a moment. “I can’t think of a thing.”
Gwen laughs. “Me neither.”
Merlin passes his hand over the water, and they bend their heads closer together, watching the show.
3.
It’s another tournament, but this time Merlin is no child, and Arthur is too closely tied to him for Merlin to hesitate. The things fly down at Arthur, black and leather-winged, spitting something dark and foul. They’re like a nightmare of bats; Merlin knows they will haunt his dreams.
Merlin doesn’t think, he moves. The other knight was dead in the first onslaught, killed by the creatures he had summoned. Arthur holds them off, but barely - his sword flashes in the air like sunlight. Merlin runs.
He does the first thing he can think of to hold them off. He grabs Arthur’s shield arm, something flies towards them, and the world flashes gold. When he opens his eyes, they sting with heat. There is a whirlwind of fire pulled around them, dashing wind and sand and flame. He has never conjured something this big before.
Arthur’s hand grasps at his sleeve. Merlin turns around, no time for reassurance, with magic coursing through his veins and setting the air alight. Arthur doesn’t need it - his eyes are blue and wild, but without accusation. He looks excited. He says, “Merlin,” and nothing else. Arthur's laughter is that of the warrior king he has yet to become. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is sweat-dark on his forehead. "Let them through," he orders.
"One at a time."
"Two."
Merlin does, keeping the winds hurling around them. Arthur takes out the first pair with one swipe. They get smarter. The next pair take one stab and one stroke. None take more than four strokes.
After, when they stop coming, and Arthur's hand is braced on Merlin's shoulder, they hear shouting.
Merlin snaps back, "you can't have him, I won't let you through."
"Merlin," the voice calls, slow and afraid, "it's Gaius. You must stop this now. Arthur is safe."
Arthur is not safe. Arthur will never be safe. Merlin spends all of his time and energy trying to protect him and this still happens. Things still get through. It would be better, Merlin thinks, just to keep hold of the flames, although they singe his palms. Arthur would be safe that way.
But Arthur nods, and Merlin drops the spell. The release knocks both of them to the ground, and Merlin stands first. He calls Arthur’s sword to him, and passes it to Arthur when he stands.
Arthur says, “Come,” and begins to walk.
“They’re going to- They won’t-”
Arthur smiles at him, crooked with wry amusement. “They can’t have you, I won’t let them through.” He takes Merlin’s sword arm. “Now come along. This is probably going to require some explanation.”
4.
He had been with Arthur six months when it happened. Caught where he shouldn’t be, consulting with the Dragon about magic gone awry in the court. Uther had passed judgement without hesitation, with no thought of his son’s defiance.
Merlin is led along the walls by the King’s guards. He has been expected.
Arthur is grown: his face is more lined, with a cropped blond beard. He wears his father’s crown now. In Merlin’s head, he had been grown before, dragging Merlin from the cell and throwing him onto the back of a horse. Telling him to run and never come back. Not to be so stupid in the new life he would build.
Merlin bows to just above his waist, with his hands clasped behind his back. He’s not Arthur’s servant anymore. “My lord.”
“Merlin.”
“You summoned me.”
Arthur laughs, though it sounds as though it is being choked out of him. “Summoned’s not exactly the right word now, is it? I had the kingdom scoured for you.”
Merlin nods, and concedes this point. Though he had come, when he heard it was Arthur who was looking for him. He has been waiting three years for Arthur to come looking for him.
Arthur says, “Village physician? Surely a sorcerer can do better than that?”
“I thought you didn’t believe I was a sorcerer? I thought I was an idiot who got caught with a book I didn’t know how to use and a lizard who spun me stories. I thought I had pretensions above my station, and needed my master to rescue me. Again.”
“All right then,” Arthur says, “Prove me wrong.”
Merlin stands on the walls of Camelot, looking over the kingdom. He raises his arms. There is a flash, and an almighty crack of thunder. Rain begins to fall on the parched ground. The people come running out of their homes.
Arthur turns to him, shining even with his sodden cloak, and the water caught in his eyelashes. He laughs, and pulls Merlin clumsily against him.
When he is released, Merlin bows again. “Sire.”
“Merlin,” Arthur says. “Stay.”
“Yes,” Merlin says, “All right then.”
Arthur drapes his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, keeping him close enough that his heat warms Merlin’s damp skin. He is warm all over, or perhaps this is just the destiny talking. Merlin had been cold, so far away from Camelot. As if he was only half himself, half what he should be. Even his magic had been half-hearted. Arthur stands beside him, and is warm against the rain.
5.
He is not a child. He has control. He has control. He has- He is lying in Arthur’s bed, and neither of them are models of self-control right now. The difference is that when Arthur loses his control, his fingers press too hard on Merlin’s hips, and leave circles of bruises. His teeth make dents on Merlin’s shoulder when he kisses him there, and up his neck, and whispers, “God, Merlin” as though he had meant to say anything else.
When Merlin loses control, the room shakes. Weapons clatter off their hooks, the curtains stir in an unnatural breeze, and the bed thumps against the wall. All because Arthur had bent his fingers just so.
Merlin scrambles off the bed, and dares a glance at Arthur. He says, “I’m supposed to protect you. Lady Helena, and the Knight Valiant? I’m supposed to- That’s all. I promise. I wouldn’t ever-” He keeps talking, barely knowing what he is saying, forgetting the speeches he had prepared for when this day came.
Arthur is barely covered by the blankets on the bed, his breath still heavy from what they had been doing before the interruption. He doesn’t speak, but his hand twitches for lack of a weapon.
Merlin says, “My loyalty is to you. Always. That’s what I have the powers for. You and the kingdom.” If Merlin was another man, in another life, he would kneel in front of his prince, and lay a sword at his feet. But Merlin has no sword, and he does not kneel. He sits on the edge of the bed, and looks at the floor.
Arthur says, “How long?”
“Since I was a child.”
“And would you ever have told me?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Yes, I would have. When you were king, and you needed me.”
“I don’t need you now? Haven’t already? If what you say is true…”
“I think,” Merlin says, haltingly, “I think it’ll get worse before it gets better. I think this is going to be hard.”
“And what? You’ve been sent to me to be my strong right arm? To fight my battles for me?”
Merlin raises his gaze to Arthur’s face, startled. “No! No, that’s not it. I’m to be your left arm. Your shield arm. You already have a sword, and you use it better than I could. You know that.” He touches the bend of Arthur’s elbow, bare skin warm under Merlin’s fingertips.
Arthur smiles reluctantly. “You’re un-teachable.”
“I have other skills.”
“I knew that already.” Merlin blushes and, after a moment, Arthur colours too. “I didn’t mean that. My God, your mind…”
“In my defence…” Merlin gestures to Arthur’s unclothed state, to the low candles and the thick air of the room.
“Yes,” Arthur says, “well. Shall we get back to it then?”
Merlin would laugh - Arthur’s awkward moments have always been rather at odds with the Dragon’s predictions of kingly greatness - but Arthur’s hand moves again. Rough but not without a small tenderness. Strong arms turning them over, even as Merlin commands the room back into order again, and the sheets to rearrange themselves. It’s possible this wasn’t what the Dragon meant when he talked about their complementary talents. Merlin finds it difficult to care about that right now.
“Merlin?” Arthur asks, pulling away for a too-long moment.
“Yes?”
“You will tell me, later?”
“Tell you what?”
“What you know. What’s coming. Why I need-”
“Me? I’ll tell you what I know. It’s not much. Just that-”
“We’re going to have to do it together.”
“Yes.”
“I knew that already.” Arthur curls his right arm around Merlin, rolling them back again. His eyes are bright, and unafraid. He will be king, someday, and Merlin will stand alongside him.
Merlin blinks, and the candles douse themselves.
FIN.