Post by otempora on Nov 2, 2008 11:04:22 GMT
Title: Silence
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Length: approx. 1000 words
Rating: R
Warnings: violence, dub-con sex, character death, future!fic, language
Twenty years ago, Merlin would never have imagined that he would be in a war, much less against Arthur.
Merlin wandered through the battlefield, trying to find the wounded and not vomit. The ground was muddy, equal parts dirt and blood. The stench of charred flesh and decay hung heavy in the air.
But even with these distracting factors, Merlin could recognize a familiar face.
Arthur.
* * *
Arthur pushed Merlin down on the ground.
“Don’t you ever say that again!” he shouted, and Merlin was genuinely afraid of him. He’d always imagined that love and fear were mutually exclusive, but now he knew it wasn’t true.
He still couldn’t believe that he’d said it.
“You’ve known how I feel about you,” Merlin said, trying to keep his voice even and failing.
“Of course I do, you idiot!” Arthur’s face was flushed with rage. “But now that you’ve said it... I can’t....”
“Can’t what?” Merlin looked up at his prince. “Can’t what, Arthur? Ignore it? You seem to have done a very good job of that!”
“Shut up!” Arthur’s boot connected with Merlin’s gut, and Merlin gasped for air. “Shut up!”
Merlin didn’t scream, or moan, or cry. He just gritted his teeth and said nothing.
* * *
“Merlin?” Arthur said. His face looked much older than his forty-odd years. His eyes and mouth were marked with worry lines, and his hair had begun to grey. But, then again, the years had changed Merlin, as well.
Merlin went over to him. Arthur tried to smirk at his old friend, but his face twisted into a grimace instead. It was only then that Merlin noticed Arthur’s wound.
He’d been stabbed in the gut. His entrails were mostly contained, but he’d lost a lot of blood.
* * *
Arthur dragged Merlin to his feet. Merlin stared at Arthur, never breaking eye contact.
“You... What am I going to do? You can’t have these... feelings for me. It’s not right!”
“Who says? Your father? Since when have you cared what your father thought?”
“I have always cared about my father. Do you not even know me?” Arthur ran one hand through his hair. “We must never speak of this again.”
“Yeah, because it’s just going to go away like magic.”
“Merlin! I am the prince of Camelot! I am the heir to the throne! I have duties that you can’t dream of, and I won’t throw it away because....”
“Because?”
And then Arthur kissed him. It wasn’t tender or soft like he’d imagined. Arthur’s mouth pressed against his in desperation, and the prince’s teeth tore at Merlin’s lips.
“Damn you, Merlin.”
Merlin didn’t say anything, but only put his fingers to his bleeding mouth.
* * *
Merlin knelt beside Arthur and put his hands over the wound. Before he could heal Arthur, Arthur placed his bloodied hands on Merlin’s.
“You forget that we’re still enemies.”
“I was never your enemy. Just your father’s. If things could’ve been different....”
“A lot of things would have to be different,” Arthur whispered, “for you and me to be together.”
* * *
Arthur took Merlin by the shoulder, pressed him against a tree. Wordlessly, Arthur pulled Merlin’s trousers down and undid his own belt.
Merlin felt Arthur’s fingers work their way into him. His fingers were calloused from fighting, but what he was doing to him wasn’t the work of a soldier.
Arthur removed his hand from Merlin and then thrust into him. Merlin shuddered. It hurt, more than he ever thought it would. But hadn’t that been the case so far with Arthur?
Arthur kept going, and Merlin closed his eyes. He waited for the pain to go away, become the pleasure that he had imagined. But it didn’t. The blood trickled down his leg, but Arthur didn’t stop, and Merlin didn’t protest.
When Arthur came, Merlin was more relieved than aroused. Arthur pulled out and redid his trousers. Merlin did the same. Neither of them spoke.
* * *
“I’ve hurt you, Merlin,” Arthur continued, “in more ways than one.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. And I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry for what I did to you. No one could have deserved it less than you.”
* * *
When Merlin arrived at the castle the next morning, Arthur wasn’t in the fields training, like he was supposed to be. He wasn’t in his room, or in the throne room. Merlin finally went up to Morgana’s room.
Merlin knocked on the door. There was no answer, but it was open. Merlin pushed on the door. Behind it was Morgana. Her shoulders were slumped over, her face stained with tears.
“Morgana! What’s wrong?”
“Arthur! He’s gone and f**ked Gwen and now they’ve run off together!”
The words hit Merlin like a slap. He felt sick to his stomach. Arthur and Gwen. Gwen and Arthur. He sat down on the nearest chair, hand to his forehead. This is my fault.
“Morgana,” Merlin said. “Do you think... Arthur....”
“I don’t care about Arthur,” Morgana said. She didn’t blush or try and take it back. Merlin knew that she didn’t care about his judgment.
She was like him.
“What about you?” Morgana said. “It was never Gwen you loved, was it?”
Merlin didn’t respond.
* * *
“Arthur, it’s not your fault,” Merlin said. “And I shouldn’t have turned on you. I was hurt and scared and....”
“I don’t have very long,” said Arthur. “But I have to tell you something. I want you to know that I love you. I always have. Always.”
“I love you, too.”
Arthur smiled. A genuine smile this time, if a weak one.
“I knew that,” he murmured. “You telling me... it’s what got us into this mess... isn’t it?”
Then he moaned, and closed his eyes. Merlin didn’t let go of his hand. He kissed Arthur, very gently, on the forehead.
“I still love you,” he might have said. “I forgive you.” “Forgive me.” “Goodbye.” But none of these would have been enough.
So, as he had always done in their relationship, Merlin said nothing.
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Length: approx. 1000 words
Rating: R
Warnings: violence, dub-con sex, character death, future!fic, language
Twenty years ago, Merlin would never have imagined that he would be in a war, much less against Arthur.
Merlin wandered through the battlefield, trying to find the wounded and not vomit. The ground was muddy, equal parts dirt and blood. The stench of charred flesh and decay hung heavy in the air.
But even with these distracting factors, Merlin could recognize a familiar face.
Arthur.
* * *
Arthur pushed Merlin down on the ground.
“Don’t you ever say that again!” he shouted, and Merlin was genuinely afraid of him. He’d always imagined that love and fear were mutually exclusive, but now he knew it wasn’t true.
He still couldn’t believe that he’d said it.
“You’ve known how I feel about you,” Merlin said, trying to keep his voice even and failing.
“Of course I do, you idiot!” Arthur’s face was flushed with rage. “But now that you’ve said it... I can’t....”
“Can’t what?” Merlin looked up at his prince. “Can’t what, Arthur? Ignore it? You seem to have done a very good job of that!”
“Shut up!” Arthur’s boot connected with Merlin’s gut, and Merlin gasped for air. “Shut up!”
Merlin didn’t scream, or moan, or cry. He just gritted his teeth and said nothing.
* * *
“Merlin?” Arthur said. His face looked much older than his forty-odd years. His eyes and mouth were marked with worry lines, and his hair had begun to grey. But, then again, the years had changed Merlin, as well.
Merlin went over to him. Arthur tried to smirk at his old friend, but his face twisted into a grimace instead. It was only then that Merlin noticed Arthur’s wound.
He’d been stabbed in the gut. His entrails were mostly contained, but he’d lost a lot of blood.
* * *
Arthur dragged Merlin to his feet. Merlin stared at Arthur, never breaking eye contact.
“You... What am I going to do? You can’t have these... feelings for me. It’s not right!”
“Who says? Your father? Since when have you cared what your father thought?”
“I have always cared about my father. Do you not even know me?” Arthur ran one hand through his hair. “We must never speak of this again.”
“Yeah, because it’s just going to go away like magic.”
“Merlin! I am the prince of Camelot! I am the heir to the throne! I have duties that you can’t dream of, and I won’t throw it away because....”
“Because?”
And then Arthur kissed him. It wasn’t tender or soft like he’d imagined. Arthur’s mouth pressed against his in desperation, and the prince’s teeth tore at Merlin’s lips.
“Damn you, Merlin.”
Merlin didn’t say anything, but only put his fingers to his bleeding mouth.
* * *
Merlin knelt beside Arthur and put his hands over the wound. Before he could heal Arthur, Arthur placed his bloodied hands on Merlin’s.
“You forget that we’re still enemies.”
“I was never your enemy. Just your father’s. If things could’ve been different....”
“A lot of things would have to be different,” Arthur whispered, “for you and me to be together.”
* * *
Arthur took Merlin by the shoulder, pressed him against a tree. Wordlessly, Arthur pulled Merlin’s trousers down and undid his own belt.
Merlin felt Arthur’s fingers work their way into him. His fingers were calloused from fighting, but what he was doing to him wasn’t the work of a soldier.
Arthur removed his hand from Merlin and then thrust into him. Merlin shuddered. It hurt, more than he ever thought it would. But hadn’t that been the case so far with Arthur?
Arthur kept going, and Merlin closed his eyes. He waited for the pain to go away, become the pleasure that he had imagined. But it didn’t. The blood trickled down his leg, but Arthur didn’t stop, and Merlin didn’t protest.
When Arthur came, Merlin was more relieved than aroused. Arthur pulled out and redid his trousers. Merlin did the same. Neither of them spoke.
* * *
“I’ve hurt you, Merlin,” Arthur continued, “in more ways than one.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. And I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry for what I did to you. No one could have deserved it less than you.”
* * *
When Merlin arrived at the castle the next morning, Arthur wasn’t in the fields training, like he was supposed to be. He wasn’t in his room, or in the throne room. Merlin finally went up to Morgana’s room.
Merlin knocked on the door. There was no answer, but it was open. Merlin pushed on the door. Behind it was Morgana. Her shoulders were slumped over, her face stained with tears.
“Morgana! What’s wrong?”
“Arthur! He’s gone and f**ked Gwen and now they’ve run off together!”
The words hit Merlin like a slap. He felt sick to his stomach. Arthur and Gwen. Gwen and Arthur. He sat down on the nearest chair, hand to his forehead. This is my fault.
“Morgana,” Merlin said. “Do you think... Arthur....”
“I don’t care about Arthur,” Morgana said. She didn’t blush or try and take it back. Merlin knew that she didn’t care about his judgment.
She was like him.
“What about you?” Morgana said. “It was never Gwen you loved, was it?”
Merlin didn’t respond.
* * *
“Arthur, it’s not your fault,” Merlin said. “And I shouldn’t have turned on you. I was hurt and scared and....”
“I don’t have very long,” said Arthur. “But I have to tell you something. I want you to know that I love you. I always have. Always.”
“I love you, too.”
Arthur smiled. A genuine smile this time, if a weak one.
“I knew that,” he murmured. “You telling me... it’s what got us into this mess... isn’t it?”
Then he moaned, and closed his eyes. Merlin didn’t let go of his hand. He kissed Arthur, very gently, on the forehead.
“I still love you,” he might have said. “I forgive you.” “Forgive me.” “Goodbye.” But none of these would have been enough.
So, as he had always done in their relationship, Merlin said nothing.
