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Merlin - Blood
I'm currently up in the middle of nowhere MN for Samhain weekend, and am pleased to announce that Nowhere has wi-fi. *g* Before I get lost in the haze of NaNoWriMo in the coming weeks, I wanted to post at least one last thing. The much longer one is not ready yet, but this one was good to go, so...
Title: Blood
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,200 words
Spoilers: General Series One
Synopsis: Control comes in many forms.
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myths. I am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin winced as Arthur’s fist collided with his jaw. Of course, trust Mathias to retreat just long enough for him to feel the pain instead. Thankfully, it was also long enough for Merlin to reassert enough control to have the manacles soar across the room and lock around his wrists, binding them at the small of his back.
Arthur shook his fist out, knuckles bloodied. “Merlin?” he asked, a look of apology across his worried features.
“Clever boy,” Merlin heard himself say, the resonation off just enough to warn Arthur that Mathias was in control once more.
“What can you possibly hope to gain from this?” Arthur demanded in exasperation.
It was the subtle look to the side that gave him away and Merlin felt his magic surge as Lancelot flew backwards to collide with the stone wall. It felt dirty, tainted, Mathias’ magic mingled with his own, controlling it to his whims and not Merlin’s, using it for his pleasure and personal gain instead of the benefit of others.
The heavy metal cut into his wrists as they flexed against it, but the cuffs did not give or break. Merlin himself had enchanted them to contain Mathias while he still had control, before his body was no longer his own.
“Do you truly need to ask?” his voice asked scornfully. “The boy doesn’t know his value, the gift wasted on him. With me to be in command of it though... So much, so very much can happen, and shall.”
“Sorry,” Arthur whispered, and for a moment Merlin was not certain to whom he was addressing. Another fist darted out and the taste of blood flooded his mouth as his lip split in two.
The force caused him to overbalance and he fell back into the pillar behind him. Instead of righting himself though, his body sunk lower until his backside hit the thick carpeting. Arthur hovered above him, seeing too much of Merlin and not enough of Mathias as he wiped a thumb across the bloodied lip, the crimson bright against his skin.
Merlin felt his muscles stretch and pull and realised belatedly that this is what Mathias wanted as his body contorted until his legs pulled through the circle of his arms, bringing his hands around to the front. He opened his mouth to warn Arthur, but it was too late and a blast of power sent him back towards where Lancelot was still crumpled and recovering on the hard ground.
Arthur sat there for a moment, stunned as he caught the breath that had been knocked out of him. Then, with a determined look, he brought the bloodied thumb to his own lips.
Lancelot’s hand darted out, stopping him. “Sire, it’s blood control,” he reminded him. “That is what is allowing Mathias to manipulate Merlin’s body in such a manner.”
“I know,” Arthur told him, freeing himself from the other man’s grasp.
Merlin remembered. Arthur was there when Merlin drank the tainted wine and Mathias asserted his control, the dark magician’s thoughts rolling, roiling with and through his own until Merlin’s mind was pushed to the background and only Mathias’ remained. In those moments, through the haze and confusion, every thought was shared, every spell learned, every manipulation laid open for Merlin to see and know and, most importantly, remember.
Arthur looked at Merlin, a look shared not with Mathias who was pulling himself to his feet and readying himself for another attack, but Merlin and Merlin alone. “This is Merlin’s blood, not Mathias’,” he reminded Lancelot. He quirked his lips and added, “And I trust him with my life.”
As Arthur’s tongue darted out to taste the blood, to willingly give up control, the one tiny corner of his mind that Merlin still reigned over recited the spell, felt himself fly through nothingness and awaken in body not his own. He felt the magic course though him, finding its place in a body that had never shared such power, never known what it was like to have the elements themselves flow at his every whim and command.
Merlin opened his eyes, saw himself standing before him in a rage, felt Arthur’s reassuring presence behind and within him. “That evens things up a bit, don’t you think?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, hearing Arthur’s familiar voice speak his words.
“I will finish you,” Mathias seethed, such an unfamiliar expression on Merlin’s own features.
Merlin watched as he tried to reach for a power that was not his, control something never meant to be controlled. “I really don’t think so,” he replied, flinging his armour-clad arms forward and feeling the rush of magic through his fingertips. He remembered the counter-spell, remembered every thought Mathias had even a passing fancy of as he wore Merlin like a used tunic for the past two days. He gathered that knowledge to him, shaped it and manipulated it to his own, and flung it back at him.
The body before him, his body, collapsed to the floor and writhed, screamed as Mathias tried to remain where he never should have been. He fought and grasped, clutching at the scraps of what was never truly his. Finally, after far too long, there was silence, a blackened gust seeping from between bloodied lips and dissipating in the cool night air drifting in from the open window.
“Is it over?” Lancelot asked, pulling himself to his feet.
“I think so,” Merlin replied. He felt drained; Arthur’s physical strength holding him steady but his mind rebelling against being used in such a manner.
Lancelot peered over at the lax body, at the unseeing eyes still open and gazing at the ceiling, unresponsive. “Then why isn’t he moving?”
Merlin smiled, felt Arthur’s lips move to mimic him. “Because I’m still in here,” he explained. He took a breath and readied himself for the transfer, at the last moment remembering to warn, “Er, you might want to catch him.”
There was time and space again, the security of Arthur’s body left behind to head into nothingness, a tiny golden thread leading the way back to himself once more. Everything came back in a rush; every ache and every pain and every memory of everything Mathias had done and made him do all for want of control.
He blinked open his eyes to find Arthur being lowered to the floor next to him, looking worn and wane but, most importantly, whole.
“It’s over?” the prince asked with a tired sigh.
“I think so,” Merlin verified. He rolled to his side, not quite ready to sit up yet and not quite certain how to manage it with the manacles anyway.
Arthur reached out and patted his shoulder, fingers drifting to wipe the blood from his lip once more. “You did it,” he declared proudly.
Merlin shook his head, not willing to take the honours for this one. “No,” he corrected. “We did it.”
Arthur chuffed out a laugh of agreement, “Yes, we most certainly did.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Blood
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,200 words
Spoilers: General Series One
Synopsis: Control comes in many forms.
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myths. I am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin winced as Arthur’s fist collided with his jaw. Of course, trust Mathias to retreat just long enough for him to feel the pain instead. Thankfully, it was also long enough for Merlin to reassert enough control to have the manacles soar across the room and lock around his wrists, binding them at the small of his back.
Arthur shook his fist out, knuckles bloodied. “Merlin?” he asked, a look of apology across his worried features.
“Clever boy,” Merlin heard himself say, the resonation off just enough to warn Arthur that Mathias was in control once more.
“What can you possibly hope to gain from this?” Arthur demanded in exasperation.
It was the subtle look to the side that gave him away and Merlin felt his magic surge as Lancelot flew backwards to collide with the stone wall. It felt dirty, tainted, Mathias’ magic mingled with his own, controlling it to his whims and not Merlin’s, using it for his pleasure and personal gain instead of the benefit of others.
The heavy metal cut into his wrists as they flexed against it, but the cuffs did not give or break. Merlin himself had enchanted them to contain Mathias while he still had control, before his body was no longer his own.
“Do you truly need to ask?” his voice asked scornfully. “The boy doesn’t know his value, the gift wasted on him. With me to be in command of it though... So much, so very much can happen, and shall.”
“Sorry,” Arthur whispered, and for a moment Merlin was not certain to whom he was addressing. Another fist darted out and the taste of blood flooded his mouth as his lip split in two.
The force caused him to overbalance and he fell back into the pillar behind him. Instead of righting himself though, his body sunk lower until his backside hit the thick carpeting. Arthur hovered above him, seeing too much of Merlin and not enough of Mathias as he wiped a thumb across the bloodied lip, the crimson bright against his skin.
Merlin felt his muscles stretch and pull and realised belatedly that this is what Mathias wanted as his body contorted until his legs pulled through the circle of his arms, bringing his hands around to the front. He opened his mouth to warn Arthur, but it was too late and a blast of power sent him back towards where Lancelot was still crumpled and recovering on the hard ground.
Arthur sat there for a moment, stunned as he caught the breath that had been knocked out of him. Then, with a determined look, he brought the bloodied thumb to his own lips.
Lancelot’s hand darted out, stopping him. “Sire, it’s blood control,” he reminded him. “That is what is allowing Mathias to manipulate Merlin’s body in such a manner.”
“I know,” Arthur told him, freeing himself from the other man’s grasp.
Merlin remembered. Arthur was there when Merlin drank the tainted wine and Mathias asserted his control, the dark magician’s thoughts rolling, roiling with and through his own until Merlin’s mind was pushed to the background and only Mathias’ remained. In those moments, through the haze and confusion, every thought was shared, every spell learned, every manipulation laid open for Merlin to see and know and, most importantly, remember.
Arthur looked at Merlin, a look shared not with Mathias who was pulling himself to his feet and readying himself for another attack, but Merlin and Merlin alone. “This is Merlin’s blood, not Mathias’,” he reminded Lancelot. He quirked his lips and added, “And I trust him with my life.”
As Arthur’s tongue darted out to taste the blood, to willingly give up control, the one tiny corner of his mind that Merlin still reigned over recited the spell, felt himself fly through nothingness and awaken in body not his own. He felt the magic course though him, finding its place in a body that had never shared such power, never known what it was like to have the elements themselves flow at his every whim and command.
Merlin opened his eyes, saw himself standing before him in a rage, felt Arthur’s reassuring presence behind and within him. “That evens things up a bit, don’t you think?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, hearing Arthur’s familiar voice speak his words.
“I will finish you,” Mathias seethed, such an unfamiliar expression on Merlin’s own features.
Merlin watched as he tried to reach for a power that was not his, control something never meant to be controlled. “I really don’t think so,” he replied, flinging his armour-clad arms forward and feeling the rush of magic through his fingertips. He remembered the counter-spell, remembered every thought Mathias had even a passing fancy of as he wore Merlin like a used tunic for the past two days. He gathered that knowledge to him, shaped it and manipulated it to his own, and flung it back at him.
The body before him, his body, collapsed to the floor and writhed, screamed as Mathias tried to remain where he never should have been. He fought and grasped, clutching at the scraps of what was never truly his. Finally, after far too long, there was silence, a blackened gust seeping from between bloodied lips and dissipating in the cool night air drifting in from the open window.
“Is it over?” Lancelot asked, pulling himself to his feet.
“I think so,” Merlin replied. He felt drained; Arthur’s physical strength holding him steady but his mind rebelling against being used in such a manner.
Lancelot peered over at the lax body, at the unseeing eyes still open and gazing at the ceiling, unresponsive. “Then why isn’t he moving?”
Merlin smiled, felt Arthur’s lips move to mimic him. “Because I’m still in here,” he explained. He took a breath and readied himself for the transfer, at the last moment remembering to warn, “Er, you might want to catch him.”
There was time and space again, the security of Arthur’s body left behind to head into nothingness, a tiny golden thread leading the way back to himself once more. Everything came back in a rush; every ache and every pain and every memory of everything Mathias had done and made him do all for want of control.
He blinked open his eyes to find Arthur being lowered to the floor next to him, looking worn and wane but, most importantly, whole.
“It’s over?” the prince asked with a tired sigh.
“I think so,” Merlin verified. He rolled to his side, not quite ready to sit up yet and not quite certain how to manage it with the manacles anyway.
Arthur reached out and patted his shoulder, fingers drifting to wipe the blood from his lip once more. “You did it,” he declared proudly.
Merlin shook his head, not willing to take the honours for this one. “No,” he corrected. “We did it.”
Arthur chuffed out a laugh of agreement, “Yes, we most certainly did.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.