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Merlin - Meditations of the Wronged
Title: Meditations on the Wronged
Length: 1,750 words
Genre: Mostly Gen, Hint of Pre-Slash (Arthur/Merlin), Vague Hint of Het (Arthur/OFC)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season One
Synopsis: Magic hath no fury, especially where Merlin is concerned.
Author’s Notes: This was going to be a drabble, then a double drabble, then... Possible warning for my sense of humor.
Disclaimer: Not mine, this particular incarnation of the myth belongs to people with more money than me. I’m just borrowing it to play with and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
“You know, for a place where magic is supposed to be outlawed and a dying breed and all that, it certainly seems to be popping up rather often,” Merlin mused.
Arthur rolled his eyes and ground out, “Now is not the time.”
“No, seriously, think about it,” his supposed servant continued, hands waving in the air. “World’s greatest bard? Actually a witch trying to kill you. A griffin, supposedly found only in myths? Tries to kill you. A beautiful refugee? Secretly a Sidhe, once again trying to kill you. A unicorn, a mystical and magical animal if there ever was one shows up. This time, you kill it. What happens? You have to die to make things right.”
“Technically I did not die that time,” Arthur pointed out before he remembered he was supposed to refocus the other man’s attentions.
“No,” Merlin nodded agreeably. “That time you were just mostly dead. What about the Questing Beast?” He paused for a moment, as if thinking it over. “Maybe it’s less of a magical issue and more of a wanting you dead issue, have you thought of that?”
“Trust me, death is most certainly on my mind right now,” Arthur muttered. Louder now, he demanded, “Will you stop your lollygagging and just get me out of here?”
“Here, here?” Merlin verified. He looked around as if there was a different here than this here. Not that Arthur fully blamed him. Here was infinitely boring: standard cave with a standard cell with standard chains with only the not-so-standard wall of spikes slowly closing in to make things just a bit interesting.
“No, the other here,” he said dryly. He tried the chains again with no luck. There were interesting etchings carved into the metal which emitted an odd glow if you tried to recite them. They also tightened, which is why they were not going to repeat that little experiment.
“Can’t do it,” came the sadly not unexpected answer.
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the other man. The other man, who he might note, was safely on the other side of the bars without the threat of large pieces of metal being driven into him. At least not yet. Should Arthur get out of here, it might be another situation all together.
“Why, pray tell, not?”
Merlin gestured to something fully out of Arthur’s view. “There’s these carvings, pictographs, really. It’s an old language, but thankfully one Gaius thought fit to teach me,” he said in that way that always hinted he was hiding something. He truly was a terrible liar. Apparently convinced Arthur did not care how he knew the language so long as he knew it well enough to read it correctly, he continued, “They describe what needs to be done to get you out of there. They also describe what most likely happened to get you in there, which, really, you need to be more careful about which maids you chase after because you never know which one may just be enchanted or possibly not quite what she seems.”
“Merlin,” Arthur bit out, eyes focused on the increasingly nearer spikes. “What does it say?”
“Close your eyes,” he replied, just a bit too quickly.
Arthur did not close them, but did resist the urge to roll them again. “What?”
Merlin scratched at his ear as he glanced over to the carvings and then back to his supposed liege. “Er, meditate. Yes, meditate,” he said in that same quick voice. “You must, um, find the peace inside yourself to find your release.”
“Meditate?” Arthur repeated in disbelief. Merlin was either still a horrible liar or finally getting a bit nervous about the whole ordeal.
“Yes, that’s it,” the other man replied, ears and ridiculous scarf nodding enthusiastically. “You know how all this magic seems to go: all concentration and dire consequences. May I suggest a topic? How you may have wronged said maid and how you may strive to make it right.”
“I am the crown prince! I do not wrong anyone, least of all a lowly maid!” Arthur insisted. Merlin just leveled a look at him that seemed to have the combined power of both his father and Gaius rolled into one. “Fine,” he relented. “I will try this meditation thing of yours but, I swear to you, if I end up skewered, it will be your head.”
Arthur settled against the wall, long legs stretched out before him. The tip of a spike scratched against the bottom of his boot and he thought better of that. He rearranged himself to fold his legs beneath him instead, ignoring the bite of the stone against his knees. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate and drift and let the world disappear and all that. It was actually quite hard to do. Perhaps it would be easier if not for the rough rock, clunky chains, and thoughts of imminent death.
He opened his eyes again to find Merlin staring back at him expectantly. “I don’t think this is going to work,” he admitted.
Now it was Merlin who rolled his eyes. “Do try, sire. If the Lady Morgana is to be believed, your head is empty often enough for this to truly not be an issue,” he offered.
Arthur let the bit of insubordination pass, for now. He understood humor in a time of stress, and surely Merlin was concerned for his life by now.
He closed his eyes again and consciously concentrated on ceasing all extraneous thought. Gone were the strategies and courtly necessities. Gone were the pretenses and princely personalities. He thought instead of his youth; of times running free in the fields with only a guard or maybe even his father at his side. He thought of climbing trees and turrets and laying back in the tall grasses, watching the clouds drift past.
Finally, he thought of the maid for, as usual, Merlin was right. He had meant no harm, finding her antics amusing, chortling as she tossed a single stem from the bouquet of flowers she was carrying at him, and tripped over her own skirts as she darted away. He remembered how her pale face lit red, and how her dark curls hid that face as her head dipped low.
He pictured her now, standing before him, rough-hewn dress replaced with a shimmering gown of blue. He thought of how she could have easily been a sister to his manservant, or even a royal maiden in disguise. He thought of how it should not matter, whatever the circumstances may be. He thought about just what he would say to her if given the chance. She opened her tiny painted red lips to speak, but he beat her to it, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
A smile lit upon her face and she began to glow a fantastic shade of gold. She mouthed words that murmured in the back of his mind, forming brilliant symbols that flew towards the chains he still wore. There was a brief pressure around his wrists before the cuffs released, a resounding clang signaling their collision with the stone floor.
He opened his eyes slowly, the light still blindingly bright. She stood before him, hand raised and still mouthing the words whispered in otherwise silent room. The spikes withdrew and the barred door swung open, signaling his freedom.
The light flared bright once more and he watched as her delicate form coalesced into that of his blasted manservant. As the glow faded, he swore for just a moment that the gold reflected in Merlin’s eyes before the room slowly returned to its previous dank and dark conditions.
Merlin abruptly clapped his hands together, effectively ending whatever spell had held him. “Well, that’s that then,” the servant enthused. “Knew you could make yourself blank, sire. Good job.”
Arthur blinked a few more times to clear his vision. No, unfortunately Merlin still remained. He pushed himself up from the wall and made his way to the door as quickly as he could on the off chance the chains and spikes decided to reassert themselves.
Once there, he eyed his manservant critically before he looked to the still faintly glowing symbols on the cave wall. He bit down any questions regarding the woman, the glow, or the language, knowing to ask would only grant whatever headache of an answer Merlin decided to pull out of his arse this time. “Some day,” he sighed. “Some day you will tell me the truth.”
Merlin blinked with false innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sire,” he insisted.
“And I’m sure that’s the best for both of us,” Arthur smiled. He clasped a hand on the shoulder of the man he reluctantly called “friend” for just a moment before striding forward and hopefully out of the blasted cave once and for all.
He heard a quiet whisper, just a hint of sound that sounded suspiciously like, “Stupid spells,” and “Utter rubbish,” and “Never again, at least not that one.”
He turned around to find Merlin still staring at the walls, which had thankfully lost their inner light. He swore, just for a moment, that he saw the maiden in his place, lock of dark curls tucked behind an overlarge ear, gown blowing in a non-existent breeze. But the curl faded away and the blue resolved itself into the rough tunic draped across Merlin’s boney shoulders.
He grinned, despite himself. A recalcitrant serving boy turned friend was far more welcomed in his life than a prissy, temperamental witch. Of course, if Merlin had offered the same shy smile, let alone filled out a dress the same way, he might be willing to rethink that. “Coming, Merlin?” he asked. “If we leave now, we may be able to reach the castle before they hide the good ale for tomorrow’s feast.”
He was rewarded with a smile brighter than the light that had bound him. “You know I have no head for that stuff,” Merlin protested, but stepped up beside him.
“You have no head for a lot of things,” Arthur pointed out, just to rile him up. It worked, of course, and he could not help the rush of affection the familiar routine brought him. He softened the blow with, “But I think I will keep you just the same.”
He was graced with another smile, this one softer, far more private, and he did not resist the urge to return gesture. Yes this, he thought, was far more acceptable.
End.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Length: 1,750 words
Genre: Mostly Gen, Hint of Pre-Slash (Arthur/Merlin), Vague Hint of Het (Arthur/OFC)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season One
Synopsis: Magic hath no fury, especially where Merlin is concerned.
Author’s Notes: This was going to be a drabble, then a double drabble, then... Possible warning for my sense of humor.
Disclaimer: Not mine, this particular incarnation of the myth belongs to people with more money than me. I’m just borrowing it to play with and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
“You know, for a place where magic is supposed to be outlawed and a dying breed and all that, it certainly seems to be popping up rather often,” Merlin mused.
Arthur rolled his eyes and ground out, “Now is not the time.”
“No, seriously, think about it,” his supposed servant continued, hands waving in the air. “World’s greatest bard? Actually a witch trying to kill you. A griffin, supposedly found only in myths? Tries to kill you. A beautiful refugee? Secretly a Sidhe, once again trying to kill you. A unicorn, a mystical and magical animal if there ever was one shows up. This time, you kill it. What happens? You have to die to make things right.”
“Technically I did not die that time,” Arthur pointed out before he remembered he was supposed to refocus the other man’s attentions.
“No,” Merlin nodded agreeably. “That time you were just mostly dead. What about the Questing Beast?” He paused for a moment, as if thinking it over. “Maybe it’s less of a magical issue and more of a wanting you dead issue, have you thought of that?”
“Trust me, death is most certainly on my mind right now,” Arthur muttered. Louder now, he demanded, “Will you stop your lollygagging and just get me out of here?”
“Here, here?” Merlin verified. He looked around as if there was a different here than this here. Not that Arthur fully blamed him. Here was infinitely boring: standard cave with a standard cell with standard chains with only the not-so-standard wall of spikes slowly closing in to make things just a bit interesting.
“No, the other here,” he said dryly. He tried the chains again with no luck. There were interesting etchings carved into the metal which emitted an odd glow if you tried to recite them. They also tightened, which is why they were not going to repeat that little experiment.
“Can’t do it,” came the sadly not unexpected answer.
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the other man. The other man, who he might note, was safely on the other side of the bars without the threat of large pieces of metal being driven into him. At least not yet. Should Arthur get out of here, it might be another situation all together.
“Why, pray tell, not?”
Merlin gestured to something fully out of Arthur’s view. “There’s these carvings, pictographs, really. It’s an old language, but thankfully one Gaius thought fit to teach me,” he said in that way that always hinted he was hiding something. He truly was a terrible liar. Apparently convinced Arthur did not care how he knew the language so long as he knew it well enough to read it correctly, he continued, “They describe what needs to be done to get you out of there. They also describe what most likely happened to get you in there, which, really, you need to be more careful about which maids you chase after because you never know which one may just be enchanted or possibly not quite what she seems.”
“Merlin,” Arthur bit out, eyes focused on the increasingly nearer spikes. “What does it say?”
“Close your eyes,” he replied, just a bit too quickly.
Arthur did not close them, but did resist the urge to roll them again. “What?”
Merlin scratched at his ear as he glanced over to the carvings and then back to his supposed liege. “Er, meditate. Yes, meditate,” he said in that same quick voice. “You must, um, find the peace inside yourself to find your release.”
“Meditate?” Arthur repeated in disbelief. Merlin was either still a horrible liar or finally getting a bit nervous about the whole ordeal.
“Yes, that’s it,” the other man replied, ears and ridiculous scarf nodding enthusiastically. “You know how all this magic seems to go: all concentration and dire consequences. May I suggest a topic? How you may have wronged said maid and how you may strive to make it right.”
“I am the crown prince! I do not wrong anyone, least of all a lowly maid!” Arthur insisted. Merlin just leveled a look at him that seemed to have the combined power of both his father and Gaius rolled into one. “Fine,” he relented. “I will try this meditation thing of yours but, I swear to you, if I end up skewered, it will be your head.”
Arthur settled against the wall, long legs stretched out before him. The tip of a spike scratched against the bottom of his boot and he thought better of that. He rearranged himself to fold his legs beneath him instead, ignoring the bite of the stone against his knees. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate and drift and let the world disappear and all that. It was actually quite hard to do. Perhaps it would be easier if not for the rough rock, clunky chains, and thoughts of imminent death.
He opened his eyes again to find Merlin staring back at him expectantly. “I don’t think this is going to work,” he admitted.
Now it was Merlin who rolled his eyes. “Do try, sire. If the Lady Morgana is to be believed, your head is empty often enough for this to truly not be an issue,” he offered.
Arthur let the bit of insubordination pass, for now. He understood humor in a time of stress, and surely Merlin was concerned for his life by now.
He closed his eyes again and consciously concentrated on ceasing all extraneous thought. Gone were the strategies and courtly necessities. Gone were the pretenses and princely personalities. He thought instead of his youth; of times running free in the fields with only a guard or maybe even his father at his side. He thought of climbing trees and turrets and laying back in the tall grasses, watching the clouds drift past.
Finally, he thought of the maid for, as usual, Merlin was right. He had meant no harm, finding her antics amusing, chortling as she tossed a single stem from the bouquet of flowers she was carrying at him, and tripped over her own skirts as she darted away. He remembered how her pale face lit red, and how her dark curls hid that face as her head dipped low.
He pictured her now, standing before him, rough-hewn dress replaced with a shimmering gown of blue. He thought of how she could have easily been a sister to his manservant, or even a royal maiden in disguise. He thought of how it should not matter, whatever the circumstances may be. He thought about just what he would say to her if given the chance. She opened her tiny painted red lips to speak, but he beat her to it, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
A smile lit upon her face and she began to glow a fantastic shade of gold. She mouthed words that murmured in the back of his mind, forming brilliant symbols that flew towards the chains he still wore. There was a brief pressure around his wrists before the cuffs released, a resounding clang signaling their collision with the stone floor.
He opened his eyes slowly, the light still blindingly bright. She stood before him, hand raised and still mouthing the words whispered in otherwise silent room. The spikes withdrew and the barred door swung open, signaling his freedom.
The light flared bright once more and he watched as her delicate form coalesced into that of his blasted manservant. As the glow faded, he swore for just a moment that the gold reflected in Merlin’s eyes before the room slowly returned to its previous dank and dark conditions.
Merlin abruptly clapped his hands together, effectively ending whatever spell had held him. “Well, that’s that then,” the servant enthused. “Knew you could make yourself blank, sire. Good job.”
Arthur blinked a few more times to clear his vision. No, unfortunately Merlin still remained. He pushed himself up from the wall and made his way to the door as quickly as he could on the off chance the chains and spikes decided to reassert themselves.
Once there, he eyed his manservant critically before he looked to the still faintly glowing symbols on the cave wall. He bit down any questions regarding the woman, the glow, or the language, knowing to ask would only grant whatever headache of an answer Merlin decided to pull out of his arse this time. “Some day,” he sighed. “Some day you will tell me the truth.”
Merlin blinked with false innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sire,” he insisted.
“And I’m sure that’s the best for both of us,” Arthur smiled. He clasped a hand on the shoulder of the man he reluctantly called “friend” for just a moment before striding forward and hopefully out of the blasted cave once and for all.
He heard a quiet whisper, just a hint of sound that sounded suspiciously like, “Stupid spells,” and “Utter rubbish,” and “Never again, at least not that one.”
He turned around to find Merlin still staring at the walls, which had thankfully lost their inner light. He swore, just for a moment, that he saw the maiden in his place, lock of dark curls tucked behind an overlarge ear, gown blowing in a non-existent breeze. But the curl faded away and the blue resolved itself into the rough tunic draped across Merlin’s boney shoulders.
He grinned, despite himself. A recalcitrant serving boy turned friend was far more welcomed in his life than a prissy, temperamental witch. Of course, if Merlin had offered the same shy smile, let alone filled out a dress the same way, he might be willing to rethink that. “Coming, Merlin?” he asked. “If we leave now, we may be able to reach the castle before they hide the good ale for tomorrow’s feast.”
He was rewarded with a smile brighter than the light that had bound him. “You know I have no head for that stuff,” Merlin protested, but stepped up beside him.
“You have no head for a lot of things,” Arthur pointed out, just to rile him up. It worked, of course, and he could not help the rush of affection the familiar routine brought him. He softened the blow with, “But I think I will keep you just the same.”
He was graced with another smile, this one softer, far more private, and he did not resist the urge to return gesture. Yes this, he thought, was far more acceptable.
End.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.