No. 99

Prompt: Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, their marriage was part accident and part wanting.
Http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/695597.html?thread=91619117#t91619117

"I'm sorry, sire," Gaius said. "I will need to do some research before I can tell you whether or not this can be undone."

"But it can be undone," Arthur said firmly.

"Until I research more, I do not know." Gaius glanced at Merlin, who hovered behind Arthur, shoulders hunched and looking miserable.

"Let me know as soon as you find an answer," Arthur said. He lowered his voice. "And please do not say anything to my father. His health his frail enough as it is and he would not understand."

"Of course, sire." Gaius ushered Arthur out of his quarters. As soon as the door was shut, Gaius counted to ten to make sure Arthur was definitely out of earshot, and then he rounded on Merlin. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Merlin protested, straightening up, lifting his chin in defiance. "Why do you always assume it's my fault?"

Gaius pointed to the mark on the inside of Merlin's wrist. It was pink like an old burn and shaped like the Pendragon dragon. "Because this is magic, and Arthur has no magic, so it must have been you!"

"It wasn't me." Merlin crossed his arms over his chest defensively, hiding the mark in his armpit. "Arthur touched the magical thing and when I tried to stop him the magic that flowed into him also flowed into me and – and there you go."

Gaius sighed. "So it was partially an accident."

"It was entirely an accident!"

"No, Merlin." Gaius shuffled over to his bookcase with another heavy sigh. "Magic like this, that leaves a mark like that, cannot bind the unwilling."

"If you think I wanted to be bound to that clotpole –"

"I think maybe you don't know what you want, but the magic does."

Merlin curled in on himself again, and he looked small and frail.

"He doesn't want me," he said finally.

"Are you sure about that?"

"What makes you say that?"

Gaius found the appropriate book, opened it, and turned it around. "This spell was used in hand-fasting all the time, before Igraine died. The darker the mark, the stronger the love."

Merlin flinched at the word 'love' but held his wrist out reluctantly. "It's not that dark. Just a bit pink."

"And Arthur's mark?"

"Was a bolt of lightning," Merlin said.

Gaius raised his eyebrows.

"Don't look at me! I don't have a fancy coat of arms."

"What I meant was, did you see how dark it was?"

Merlin bit his lip. "Oh. Quite dark, actually. Almost brown. We thought it was a bit of mud at first, or one of those henna markings, like from the East."

Gaius said, "Perhaps you don't know what Arthur wants either."

"Can it be broken?" Merlin asked. "If we both want it to be? Or if our – our wanting is unequal?"

"I suppose it can be," Gaius said, "but do you want to break his heart?"

Outside the door, Arthur waited for Merlin's response, but Merlin didn't say a thing.

No. 82

Prompt: Merlin (TV), Arthur Pendragon/Merlin, I can shut you up with a kiss.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/692020.html?thread=91093300#t91093300

Arthur's heart pounds. His palm wrapped around the hilt of his sword is slick with sweat. There's too many of them. He and Merlin have been lucky many times, but their luck will not hold forever. Their best chance is to stay quiet, stay hidden, and wait for Hengist's men to pass.

Merlin, busy as he is with their packs, has not seen the army yet.

He turns toward Arthur, opens his mouth. A loud, insolent comment is clearly waiting on the tip of his tongue.

Arthur lunges at him and kisses him. Wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, pulls him down so the soldiers will not see.

Merlin makes the tiniest noise and Arthur swipes his tongue against Merlin's, and Merlin is silent, pressed against him, kissing back eagerly.

Arthur presses him further into the leaves, kisses him again and again and again, and finally, the soldiers' footsteps have faded.

He sits up, peers over the ridge. No soldiers in sight. They're safe now.

Merlin is gaping at him.

Arthur leans in, kisses him softly, gently, and gestures at the half-empty packs. It's time for them to go.

No. 81

Prompt: Merlin (TV), Arthur Pendragon/Merlin, I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/691893.html?thread=91053237#t91053237

Merlin could recognize his once and future king by touch alone, by smell; he knew Arthur blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. So when there was angry huffing and puffing and stomping boots on the cement floor of the homeless shelter, Merlin came awake in an instant, his heart pounding with joy, with elation. The other men in his dormitory grumbled and muttered. One of them even flung a pillow.

And then a hand was on Merlin's shoulder, and he breathed in the scent of clean linen. He opened his eyes.

Arthur hovered over him, peering uncertainly. "Merlin? Is that you under all those wrinkles and that beard?"

Merlin sat up, swatted Arthur's hand aside. "Of course it's me, you prat. And keep your voice down. Don't want to anger the matron. Might need to sleep here again."

Arthur's lips twitched into an involuntary smile at 'prat'. "No," he said, "you never need to sleep here again." He tugged, and Merlin came to his feet. He started to reach for his pack, but Arthur shook his head. "Come on. England's waiting for us."

They slipped away into the night.

"And for heaven's sake, Merlin, fix your face. I can't stand looking at you, like that."

"Yes, sire."

"And Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"It's good to see you again."

"You too, sire."

"Stop calling me 'sire' and kiss me, you idiot."

"Yes, you prat."

No. 75

Prompt: Merlin, Arthur Pendragon/Merlin, The Impossible Knife of Memory
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/690071.html?thread=90743191#t90743191

In the fading firelight, Arthur looks at Merlin and is cut by the impossible knife of memory. His first encounter with the bumbling lad in the marketplace is overlaid by the old man who summoned lightning from the skies.

"I could take you apart with one blow," Arthur had said.

Merlin, eyes gleaming, had said, "I could take you apart with less."

Arthur had laughed. What a fool he is, has always been.

He remembers Merlin sobbing over Balinor, the dead dragon lord, and his own fumbling attempts at comfort later: "No man is worth your tears." He remembers Merlin's respectful quiet in the weeks after Arthur's father died, the silent efficiency with which he conducted his duties so Arthur could mourn in the privacy of his own thoughts.

He wants to scream at Merlin, rage, demand to know the truth. Who are you?

Even as he dies, he knows the impossible answer.

The only one I ever loved.