Merlin story - Dreams and Delusions
Mar. 14th, 2009 01:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thismazTitle: Dreams and Delusions
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG-13, because of the subject of the thinking that's going on.
Pairing: Arthur and Merlin (sort of)
Warnings: I'd call this Gen, but it could be called Slash, if I was playing safe
Spoilers: None
Summary: What are those boys doing in Arthur's room?
Word Count: 1,290
Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: I don't own the two recognisable characters in this story. They belong to the BBC and I am making no profit from them
Note: If you see any typos, please let me know.
Dreams and Delusions
Sitting, crouched in the shadows of a deep alcove, Harald hugged his sheepskin jerkin more snugly around himself and watched as the servant cracked open the door to look out. He peered cautiously up and down the hallway before slipping through the door and closing it silently behind him. Then he hunched his shoulders and marched blindly and purposefully down the hall, towards the stairs up to the doctor's tower. He'd be back in less than half an hour, having detoured to the kitchens to collect his master's breakfast. Pretending he was just up from his own bed and come to wake the young lord. Harald knew the truth. Every night he hid himself in this alcove, every night for the last week. He'd watched the servant help the Prince up to his room, after the feast for the King's anniversary. He'd seen the Prince pause and catch the servant's arm, wrap his own arm around his servant's waist and half carry him the last few yards, on the day the clumsy fool made the mistake of approaching the King's horse from behind. He'd seen the way the Prince laughed, as they walked together to the door of his chamber, after the servant spent a day in the stocks because he'd let his mouth run away with him. And he'd seen the fondness in the Prince's eyes when he smiled and teased the servant in far too familiar a fashion.
The boy was skinny as a rake and about as pretty, to Harald's way of thinking. The Prince was strong and golden, well built from his years of training to the sword, upright and purposeful in his carriage, decisive in his speech, commanding in his presence. Harald had worshipped him from afar, all his young life. Had stolen into the armoury and spent hours swinging a borrowed sword, copying the moves he'd studied when he managed to sneak away from the Stable Master and watch the young warriors at practice. Harald was solid muscle, from working in the stables, his shoulders were at least as wide as the Prince's, his legs as solid, and his hair was only a few shades darker. Yet the Prince never noticed him, never paused and smiled at Harald, as he did for Merlin. It wasn't right that a skinny boy should catch the Prince's eye, leaving Harald out in the cold.
And here he came, staggering under the weight of a tray overloaded with plates, bowls, a tankard and two jugs. He managed to open the door, but although he kicked it closed, it didn't latch and suddenly Harald was faced with the possibility of doing more than just watching from outside. Maybe he could learn something more, something useful. The servant had to be using some trick, maybe magic, to enthral the Prince.
Maybe he could get proof. Maybe Harald could do something to break the enchantment and free the Prince. Once he was free... And the King. The King despised magic. If Harald could prove that Merlin was using magic on his master, the king would be grateful. There would, no doubt, be a reward for exposing such treachery. And once free, the Prince would see. He'd look and he'd see.
Cautiously Harald crept forwards. With his back to the wall he edged up to the door. He could hear the servant moving around inside, the click of crockery against wood as he laid out the dishes from the tray. Harald imagined the Prince sitting in his heavy wooden chair (he'd sneaked into the Prince's chamber one day when he knew that the Prince and his servant were out hunting, so he'd seen exactly where the Prince would be sitting) watching impassively as his catamite waited on him.
"It's cold out there," he heard the servant complain. "Thank goodness for your fire."
"Hmm." The Prince sounded preoccupied, or maybe impatient, in his response. "We both know your room's cold in winter, no need to make a thing of it." There was a pause and Harald imagined him lazily reaching out and picking up a piece of fruit, or maybe his tankard of small beer, before he spoke again. "Pull the blanket over, more," the Prince said. "There's still a draught around that window."
Harald froze. It was difficult to tell direction, but it sounded like the Prince's voice was coming from the right, over by the fireplace. Were they sitting together there, on the fur rug Harald had seen and run an admiring hand over? So soft, so thick and warm. Sudden and vicious fury surged in his chest. That impudent stick figure! He had no right!
"I'll ask the castle carpenter to come fix it, shall I?" Harald's rival asked, apparently uncaring of his transgression.
"No, just pull the curtains across. I don't want old Oswald in here, banging and cursing for hours on end, causing a disturbance."
"Right." A scrabbling sound of leather soles against the stone floor as the servant scrambled to his feet, followed by the clack of curtain rings.
"For God's sake, Merlin." The Prince sounded exasperated and Harald's heart swelled. "You've left the bloody door open."
The servant's voice was sulky as he muttered, "Sorry," and footsteps approached. Then the door clicked closed and Harald couldn't hear them any more, but that note of annoyance in the Prince's voice gave him hope. He'd tire of Merlin soon. The boy was hapless and stupid. Whatever attraction the Prince had for him, would fade, and then... Then, Harald would be working one day, maybe rubbing down the Prince's horse... and the Prince would come in, and he'd see Harald... and then...
Silently Harald crept away to his bed above the stables. He had another hour before the kitchen would be ready to serve the stable hands their breakfast. Plenty of time...
*****
Inside Arthur's chamber, Merlin set the bowl of milk on the floor and settled himself again on the rug. He peered into the basket sitting in front of the fire, at the stable cat and her litter of newborn kittens nestled snug in the blanket that lined it. He twitched the blanket open, to check that none of the kits were feeding, and lifted her out. Holding her in his lap for a moment, he tickled her behind her ear and she pushed into his caress. Then he set her down next to the bowl.
A snort of amusement above him made Merlin look up into Arthur's face and he smiled. Arthur snorted again and sat back in his chair as he tore a bread roll apart. He shook his head ruefully. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," he said. "But I don't care what you say. One week. Then you take her back down to the stables, or up to your own room, and I can get some peace at night, without you constantly fidgeting over the creature." He took a drink from his tankard. "Then you can tell Oswald to come and fix the casement."
Merlin crossed his legs, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his cupped hands. He gazed down fondly at the cat. "Yeah, sure," he said. "I'll get onto that, right away." He ignored Arthur's exasperated sigh. He knew Arthur was as fond of the cat as he was and wouldn't leave her out in the cold when he had a perfectly good fire to keep her warm by. At least now the kittens were safely born he could get a proper night's sleep in his own bed. His room might be too cold for the health of a pregnant mother, but it was his and his bed was more comfortable than Arthur's floor.
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG-13, because of the subject of the thinking that's going on.
Pairing: Arthur and Merlin (sort of)
Warnings: I'd call this Gen, but it could be called Slash, if I was playing safe
Spoilers: None
Summary: What are those boys doing in Arthur's room?
Word Count: 1,290
Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: I don't own the two recognisable characters in this story. They belong to the BBC and I am making no profit from them
Note: If you see any typos, please let me know.
Dreams and Delusions
Sitting, crouched in the shadows of a deep alcove, Harald hugged his sheepskin jerkin more snugly around himself and watched as the servant cracked open the door to look out. He peered cautiously up and down the hallway before slipping through the door and closing it silently behind him. Then he hunched his shoulders and marched blindly and purposefully down the hall, towards the stairs up to the doctor's tower. He'd be back in less than half an hour, having detoured to the kitchens to collect his master's breakfast. Pretending he was just up from his own bed and come to wake the young lord. Harald knew the truth. Every night he hid himself in this alcove, every night for the last week. He'd watched the servant help the Prince up to his room, after the feast for the King's anniversary. He'd seen the Prince pause and catch the servant's arm, wrap his own arm around his servant's waist and half carry him the last few yards, on the day the clumsy fool made the mistake of approaching the King's horse from behind. He'd seen the way the Prince laughed, as they walked together to the door of his chamber, after the servant spent a day in the stocks because he'd let his mouth run away with him. And he'd seen the fondness in the Prince's eyes when he smiled and teased the servant in far too familiar a fashion.
The boy was skinny as a rake and about as pretty, to Harald's way of thinking. The Prince was strong and golden, well built from his years of training to the sword, upright and purposeful in his carriage, decisive in his speech, commanding in his presence. Harald had worshipped him from afar, all his young life. Had stolen into the armoury and spent hours swinging a borrowed sword, copying the moves he'd studied when he managed to sneak away from the Stable Master and watch the young warriors at practice. Harald was solid muscle, from working in the stables, his shoulders were at least as wide as the Prince's, his legs as solid, and his hair was only a few shades darker. Yet the Prince never noticed him, never paused and smiled at Harald, as he did for Merlin. It wasn't right that a skinny boy should catch the Prince's eye, leaving Harald out in the cold.
And here he came, staggering under the weight of a tray overloaded with plates, bowls, a tankard and two jugs. He managed to open the door, but although he kicked it closed, it didn't latch and suddenly Harald was faced with the possibility of doing more than just watching from outside. Maybe he could learn something more, something useful. The servant had to be using some trick, maybe magic, to enthral the Prince.
Maybe he could get proof. Maybe Harald could do something to break the enchantment and free the Prince. Once he was free... And the King. The King despised magic. If Harald could prove that Merlin was using magic on his master, the king would be grateful. There would, no doubt, be a reward for exposing such treachery. And once free, the Prince would see. He'd look and he'd see.
Cautiously Harald crept forwards. With his back to the wall he edged up to the door. He could hear the servant moving around inside, the click of crockery against wood as he laid out the dishes from the tray. Harald imagined the Prince sitting in his heavy wooden chair (he'd sneaked into the Prince's chamber one day when he knew that the Prince and his servant were out hunting, so he'd seen exactly where the Prince would be sitting) watching impassively as his catamite waited on him.
"It's cold out there," he heard the servant complain. "Thank goodness for your fire."
"Hmm." The Prince sounded preoccupied, or maybe impatient, in his response. "We both know your room's cold in winter, no need to make a thing of it." There was a pause and Harald imagined him lazily reaching out and picking up a piece of fruit, or maybe his tankard of small beer, before he spoke again. "Pull the blanket over, more," the Prince said. "There's still a draught around that window."
Harald froze. It was difficult to tell direction, but it sounded like the Prince's voice was coming from the right, over by the fireplace. Were they sitting together there, on the fur rug Harald had seen and run an admiring hand over? So soft, so thick and warm. Sudden and vicious fury surged in his chest. That impudent stick figure! He had no right!
"I'll ask the castle carpenter to come fix it, shall I?" Harald's rival asked, apparently uncaring of his transgression.
"No, just pull the curtains across. I don't want old Oswald in here, banging and cursing for hours on end, causing a disturbance."
"Right." A scrabbling sound of leather soles against the stone floor as the servant scrambled to his feet, followed by the clack of curtain rings.
"For God's sake, Merlin." The Prince sounded exasperated and Harald's heart swelled. "You've left the bloody door open."
The servant's voice was sulky as he muttered, "Sorry," and footsteps approached. Then the door clicked closed and Harald couldn't hear them any more, but that note of annoyance in the Prince's voice gave him hope. He'd tire of Merlin soon. The boy was hapless and stupid. Whatever attraction the Prince had for him, would fade, and then... Then, Harald would be working one day, maybe rubbing down the Prince's horse... and the Prince would come in, and he'd see Harald... and then...
Silently Harald crept away to his bed above the stables. He had another hour before the kitchen would be ready to serve the stable hands their breakfast. Plenty of time...
*****
Inside Arthur's chamber, Merlin set the bowl of milk on the floor and settled himself again on the rug. He peered into the basket sitting in front of the fire, at the stable cat and her litter of newborn kittens nestled snug in the blanket that lined it. He twitched the blanket open, to check that none of the kits were feeding, and lifted her out. Holding her in his lap for a moment, he tickled her behind her ear and she pushed into his caress. Then he set her down next to the bowl.
A snort of amusement above him made Merlin look up into Arthur's face and he smiled. Arthur snorted again and sat back in his chair as he tore a bread roll apart. He shook his head ruefully. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," he said. "But I don't care what you say. One week. Then you take her back down to the stables, or up to your own room, and I can get some peace at night, without you constantly fidgeting over the creature." He took a drink from his tankard. "Then you can tell Oswald to come and fix the casement."
Merlin crossed his legs, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his cupped hands. He gazed down fondly at the cat. "Yeah, sure," he said. "I'll get onto that, right away." He ignored Arthur's exasperated sigh. He knew Arthur was as fond of the cat as he was and wouldn't leave her out in the cold when he had a perfectly good fire to keep her warm by. At least now the kittens were safely born he could get a proper night's sleep in his own bed. His room might be too cold for the health of a pregnant mother, but it was his and his bed was more comfortable than Arthur's floor.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 05:46 pm (UTC)And really, they may not have got around to it yet, but everybody knows... *g*
no subject
Date: 2009-03-16 10:45 pm (UTC)The boy was hapless and stupid. And right there you have the makings for a year's worth of stories. Do continue, please. This was lovely.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-17 05:39 am (UTC)There is so much Merlin fanfic out there. I am just discovering how much, after spending some time just stumbling on it. I have a suspicion that I will revisit them, once I feel a little more confident of their voices.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-18 12:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-18 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-18 06:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-19 06:04 am (UTC)Thank you for stopping to tell me you enjoyed it, too. I appreciate it.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-14 08:22 am (UTC)And the end - cute! There can never be too many cats in fanfic!
Harald couldn't hear them any more, but that note of annoyance in the Prince's voice gave him hope. He'd tire of Merlin soon.
he hasn't been watching the series, has he?
no subject
Date: 2009-04-18 05:21 am (UTC)*grins* No, he really hasn't, has he.
I love this fandom. Once my current BtVS story is done, I hope to write more of these two.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-25 03:30 pm (UTC)Nice reveal as well as to the reason why Merlin was sneaking out of Arthur's room in the morning. Love that they were bonding over taking care of the stable cat and her litter.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-25 04:29 pm (UTC)Thank you so much. I'm very glad you enjoyed it. And thank you for stopping to tell me so.
AWWW!!
Date: 2009-08-26 08:06 am (UTC)Re: AWWW!!
Date: 2009-08-26 11:39 am (UTC)