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Entry tags:
Merlin - Torn
Title: Torn
Genre: Slash, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Length: 470 words
Synopsis: He had saved the say, now he just needed to get out of this damned dress.
Warnings: Er, cross-dressing, of a type.
Author’s Notes: Kind of for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
merlin_flashfic’s Bodice Ripper challenge, except I posted it to my journal first as a comment fic (cleaned up here), so it’s no longer qualified. Definitely for the lovely ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
emeraldteal who is a truly awesome instigator.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin darted into the nearest empty room he could find, closing the door quickly behind him. He slammed himself up against the wall and took a few quick breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating.
Calmer now, he looked down at his attire. The purple really did not do much for his skin tone, he thought wryly. At least he managed to find the magical assassin and stop her before she got to Morgana, but now his own spell was fading and, if he did not hurry, he would be stuck running around the castle in a dress.
Well, not that he wasn't before, all day really, but now he would look like himself and not like some random courtly lady that perhaps tripped over her own feet once or twice, but he was able to explain that away with random "dizzy" spells that also worried Morgana enough to keep him/her close enough for his needs.
He murmured the spell to bring his own clothing to the room and it neatly materialized next to him. Now all he had to do was get out of the damned dress.
Which was, of course, stuck.
He pulled, he yanked, and he heard something suspiciously fabric-like tear. It was, inevitably, the intricately embroidered bodice, tearing neatly along the seam.
Okay, so he could either magically repair it at some later date and time, or have Gwen teach him how to make those tiny little stitches when he screwed up the spell and made it worse. That reminded him, why didn't he just try magic to get out of the dress in the first place?
He opened his mouth to try just that when the door burst open, reminding him that he had not locked it in his haste. It was, of course, Arthur, who stood there dumbly for a moment, no doubt taking in his manservant standing there half naked and half in a woman's dress.
When Arthur found the words, and Merlin really should have known he would find words eventually, the first thing he said was, "Really, Merlin, this obsession of yours with women's frocks is getting a bit ridiculous."
Merlin sputtered, torn between shouting, "I can explain," and "This isn't how it looks!"
Arthur simply walked over to him, took in the torn fabric with a sigh, and deftly began to unlace the section he had completely forgotten to untie. The fabric slid from his torso, but Arthur's hands did not. The blond head leaned close, breath ghosting over his ear as he softly declared, "If you must insist on dressing up, do let me show you the proper way."
It was not long after that night that a visiting maid found several beautiful dresses stashed away in the prince's armoire, and wondered just which lucky lady he was secretly courting.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Slash, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Length: 470 words
Synopsis: He had saved the say, now he just needed to get out of this damned dress.
Warnings: Er, cross-dressing, of a type.
Author’s Notes: Kind of for
merlin_flashfic’s Bodice Ripper challenge, except I posted it to my journal first as a comment fic (cleaned up here), so it’s no longer qualified. Definitely for the lovely emeraldteal who is a truly awesome instigator. Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin darted into the nearest empty room he could find, closing the door quickly behind him. He slammed himself up against the wall and took a few quick breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating.
Calmer now, he looked down at his attire. The purple really did not do much for his skin tone, he thought wryly. At least he managed to find the magical assassin and stop her before she got to Morgana, but now his own spell was fading and, if he did not hurry, he would be stuck running around the castle in a dress.
Well, not that he wasn't before, all day really, but now he would look like himself and not like some random courtly lady that perhaps tripped over her own feet once or twice, but he was able to explain that away with random "dizzy" spells that also worried Morgana enough to keep him/her close enough for his needs.
He murmured the spell to bring his own clothing to the room and it neatly materialized next to him. Now all he had to do was get out of the damned dress.
Which was, of course, stuck.
He pulled, he yanked, and he heard something suspiciously fabric-like tear. It was, inevitably, the intricately embroidered bodice, tearing neatly along the seam.
Okay, so he could either magically repair it at some later date and time, or have Gwen teach him how to make those tiny little stitches when he screwed up the spell and made it worse. That reminded him, why didn't he just try magic to get out of the dress in the first place?
He opened his mouth to try just that when the door burst open, reminding him that he had not locked it in his haste. It was, of course, Arthur, who stood there dumbly for a moment, no doubt taking in his manservant standing there half naked and half in a woman's dress.
When Arthur found the words, and Merlin really should have known he would find words eventually, the first thing he said was, "Really, Merlin, this obsession of yours with women's frocks is getting a bit ridiculous."
Merlin sputtered, torn between shouting, "I can explain," and "This isn't how it looks!"
Arthur simply walked over to him, took in the torn fabric with a sigh, and deftly began to unlace the section he had completely forgotten to untie. The fabric slid from his torso, but Arthur's hands did not. The blond head leaned close, breath ghosting over his ear as he softly declared, "If you must insist on dressing up, do let me show you the proper way."
It was not long after that night that a visiting maid found several beautiful dresses stashed away in the prince's armoire, and wondered just which lucky lady he was secretly courting.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.