FIC: Fealty (1/?) - Merlin/Arthur, PG-13
TITLE: Fealty - part 1
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
CATEGORY: Hurt/Comfort, Drama
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: PG-13
WORDS: 931
SUMMARY: A faithful and good servant is a real godsend; but truly 't is a rare bird in the land - Martin Luther
DISCLAIMER: I own not the boys, nor the show. Thankfully, they’re doing just fine.
NOTES: I made the fatal mistake of telling openskies that I was being harassed by a plot bunny. She then made me write on pain of capslock. ;)
Even the horse was bored. Merlin patted his nose gently but the haughty animal shook him off and trotted a bit faster.
"How much longer?"
"We're staying out here until I catch that blasted deer."
Arthur shot him a look and Merlin sighed under his breath. His prince was being particularly stubborn today - a glimpse at the sky told him that night was closing in and they'd have to hurry to reach the palace before sundown.
"Is it really that important?"
The horse stopped abruptly, almost causing Merlin to walk into the back of it. "Important? Merlin, that idiot Caradoc has already caught a prize stag today and left me looking like a fool. If we don't bring home an equal prize, I will be the laughing stock of the whole court!"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm just…cold."
Merlin swept a hand through his wet hair and looked up; Arthur was giving him that strange look again. From anyone else, he would've called it concern but he never knew quite what to make of Arthur.
"Don't catch anything," he said distastefully. "I don't need you dripping on me."
"No, sire," Merlin said heavily, and Arthur nodded, a slight twist of his lips showing his amusement. One day, Merlin would work out exactly what was going on in that pretty blond head; one day, Hell would freeze over.
They walked a few more paces in silence. Merlin was seriously beginning to regret diverting the doe earlier, but she had her faun by her side and he didn't really want Arthur to shoot it.
"I'm not su-" The tip of an arrow came down to meet his cheek and he stopped. Arthur drew back the flint and quickly dismounted, pushing the bridle into Merlin's hands and creeping forward. It was strange to watch Arthur possessed by the hunt - it was almost like Merlin practicing magic, completely absorbed in the moment, bringing all his concentration to bear on one small thing.
Merlin wondered what it would be like to have that great concentration focussed on him.
He shivered and shook his head; he must be catching a cold. Squinting in the half-dark, he could just make out Arthur's cautious step into a clearing, where a stag stood in perfect profile.
Yet something was wrong with it - the curve of the antlers or the gloss of its hooves, because it just didn't sit well with Merlin. He was overwhelmed with a sense of dread and stepped forward, mouth open to shout a warning.
And then a man stabbed Arthur in the back.
He fell to his knees, before listing to the side, motionless. Merlin felt a wave of grief, sickness and fury wash over him and he reached out with both hands.
The shadow-clad figure went sailing across the clearing, hitting a tree and falling to the ground. Merlin wasted no more time with him, hurrying over to Arthur and pressing urgent fingers to his neck. Pulse.
His fingers picked out the hole in Arthur's tunic and they came away sticky with blood. Merlin swallowed down the bile in his throat. He had to get him home. Gaius would know what to do.
"I'm…I'm going to lift you up, okay? Just…keep still and I'll…I'll get us home. Ready? Okay."
Merlin lifted him up with shaking arms and manhandled him into the saddle; he fell forward on to the horse's neck. Merlin mounted behind him, pulling him back against his chest and urging the horse forward with his feet.
Maybe the animal sensed his panic, he didn't know, but he found himself hurtling through the forest, desperately holding on to Arthur and mumbling nonsense mixed with spell into his ears.
But he didn't wake, didn't even move, and Merlin found himself shutting his eyes, wishing it was all a dream and he could just wake up and not be responsible for the dwindling life of the man in his arms.
The city gates loomed ahead and he called out to the guards, who let him through, sounding their horns to warn the castle of his arrival. They arrived in a cloud of dust, a haze of courtiers already reaching out to them, taking Arthur from his numb hands and helping him dismount.
"He was stabbed…in the forest…a man with a dagger…please, he won't wake up…he won't…"
He felt Gaius grip his arm and drag him after Arthur's stretcher; he didn't know what he was doing with himself, just that he had to make it better - why wasn't the magic working? Why wouldn't Arthur open his eyes?
They laid him out in Gaius' room and he fell to his knees beside him, hand hovering over him as if he dare not touch.
"Tell me what happened. Exactly what happened."
"The stag looked wrong." He heard his voice saying the words, but his full attention was locked on Arthur's pale, still face. "And then he was stabbed in the back. It was a dagger - black blade, like onyx. He fell to the ground. I…dealt with the attacker. I brought him back. He won't wake up."
"Quick, you - turn him over. Remove his tunic. I must see this wound."
Merlin's hands leapt to his lord's head, sweat-damp hair in his hands, cold skin beneath. He turned his face to the side, watching his slightly-parted lips quiver with every breath.
"This is treacherous sorcery. Fetch the king - we must send out a search party for this assassin. Merlin, will you…"
A hand settled on his shoulder. "You just stay right here."
"Okay, Gaius," he said, and continued his vigil.
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
CATEGORY: Hurt/Comfort, Drama
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: PG-13
WORDS: 931
SUMMARY: A faithful and good servant is a real godsend; but truly 't is a rare bird in the land - Martin Luther
DISCLAIMER: I own not the boys, nor the show. Thankfully, they’re doing just fine.
NOTES: I made the fatal mistake of telling openskies that I was being harassed by a plot bunny. She then made me write on pain of capslock. ;)
Even the horse was bored. Merlin patted his nose gently but the haughty animal shook him off and trotted a bit faster.
"How much longer?"
"We're staying out here until I catch that blasted deer."
Arthur shot him a look and Merlin sighed under his breath. His prince was being particularly stubborn today - a glimpse at the sky told him that night was closing in and they'd have to hurry to reach the palace before sundown.
"Is it really that important?"
The horse stopped abruptly, almost causing Merlin to walk into the back of it. "Important? Merlin, that idiot Caradoc has already caught a prize stag today and left me looking like a fool. If we don't bring home an equal prize, I will be the laughing stock of the whole court!"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm just…cold."
Merlin swept a hand through his wet hair and looked up; Arthur was giving him that strange look again. From anyone else, he would've called it concern but he never knew quite what to make of Arthur.
"Don't catch anything," he said distastefully. "I don't need you dripping on me."
"No, sire," Merlin said heavily, and Arthur nodded, a slight twist of his lips showing his amusement. One day, Merlin would work out exactly what was going on in that pretty blond head; one day, Hell would freeze over.
They walked a few more paces in silence. Merlin was seriously beginning to regret diverting the doe earlier, but she had her faun by her side and he didn't really want Arthur to shoot it.
"I'm not su-" The tip of an arrow came down to meet his cheek and he stopped. Arthur drew back the flint and quickly dismounted, pushing the bridle into Merlin's hands and creeping forward. It was strange to watch Arthur possessed by the hunt - it was almost like Merlin practicing magic, completely absorbed in the moment, bringing all his concentration to bear on one small thing.
Merlin wondered what it would be like to have that great concentration focussed on him.
He shivered and shook his head; he must be catching a cold. Squinting in the half-dark, he could just make out Arthur's cautious step into a clearing, where a stag stood in perfect profile.
Yet something was wrong with it - the curve of the antlers or the gloss of its hooves, because it just didn't sit well with Merlin. He was overwhelmed with a sense of dread and stepped forward, mouth open to shout a warning.
And then a man stabbed Arthur in the back.
He fell to his knees, before listing to the side, motionless. Merlin felt a wave of grief, sickness and fury wash over him and he reached out with both hands.
The shadow-clad figure went sailing across the clearing, hitting a tree and falling to the ground. Merlin wasted no more time with him, hurrying over to Arthur and pressing urgent fingers to his neck. Pulse.
His fingers picked out the hole in Arthur's tunic and they came away sticky with blood. Merlin swallowed down the bile in his throat. He had to get him home. Gaius would know what to do.
"I'm…I'm going to lift you up, okay? Just…keep still and I'll…I'll get us home. Ready? Okay."
Merlin lifted him up with shaking arms and manhandled him into the saddle; he fell forward on to the horse's neck. Merlin mounted behind him, pulling him back against his chest and urging the horse forward with his feet.
Maybe the animal sensed his panic, he didn't know, but he found himself hurtling through the forest, desperately holding on to Arthur and mumbling nonsense mixed with spell into his ears.
But he didn't wake, didn't even move, and Merlin found himself shutting his eyes, wishing it was all a dream and he could just wake up and not be responsible for the dwindling life of the man in his arms.
The city gates loomed ahead and he called out to the guards, who let him through, sounding their horns to warn the castle of his arrival. They arrived in a cloud of dust, a haze of courtiers already reaching out to them, taking Arthur from his numb hands and helping him dismount.
"He was stabbed…in the forest…a man with a dagger…please, he won't wake up…he won't…"
He felt Gaius grip his arm and drag him after Arthur's stretcher; he didn't know what he was doing with himself, just that he had to make it better - why wasn't the magic working? Why wouldn't Arthur open his eyes?
They laid him out in Gaius' room and he fell to his knees beside him, hand hovering over him as if he dare not touch.
"Tell me what happened. Exactly what happened."
"The stag looked wrong." He heard his voice saying the words, but his full attention was locked on Arthur's pale, still face. "And then he was stabbed in the back. It was a dagger - black blade, like onyx. He fell to the ground. I…dealt with the attacker. I brought him back. He won't wake up."
"Quick, you - turn him over. Remove his tunic. I must see this wound."
Merlin's hands leapt to his lord's head, sweat-damp hair in his hands, cold skin beneath. He turned his face to the side, watching his slightly-parted lips quiver with every breath.
"This is treacherous sorcery. Fetch the king - we must send out a search party for this assassin. Merlin, will you…"
A hand settled on his shoulder. "You just stay right here."
"Okay, Gaius," he said, and continued his vigil.