#dragonlordff

[procrastinatorrex]

The magic flowed through him, warm and sweet like honey, and for a moment Arthur wondered if he was feeling the effect of the spell or just of the casting. Was this what it was like, for him? Did using magic always feel like this? If it did, he could understand why people seemed so hell-bent on practicing it, even with the risks. Arthur felt comfortable, warm, and maybe slightly drunk, in the way one was after the first warm meal and pint of ale upon returning from a long winter patrol; he didn’t feel impaired, just… relaxed.

Look at the flagstones, the suggestion drifted across his mind, and Arthur frowned. Why on earth would he do that?

Do it it came harder now, a push against his mind, but still he didn’t find the compulsion to obey. He looked up at Merlin and was surprised to see sweat on his brow, his eyes were brilliantly gold. “Are you doing that?” He asked, nonplussed, “Why would I want to look at the floor?”

His father’s voice was loud, “How do we know you are not simply making the impression of effort?”

Merlin simply glanced towards one of the guards. Arthur felt the rush as the tide of power shifted, and no sooner had it left him than the man was falling to his knees, eyes wide and awestruck as he placed both hands on the floor. “It’s beautiful!” He cried, eyes glassy, “Look at the stones! They’re shining! It’s amazing!”

[procrastinatorrex]

“What—“ Before Arthur could finish the question something changed— Merlin’s hand in his was no longer smooth and warm. Instead, something hard and rough, like well-worn fabric, was between their palms. Arthur gripped what he realized was a hilt (was it damp?) and pulled.

The blade came forth from thin air, spraying water, of all things, as it materialized. The attacking sorcerers stopped in their tracks, and Arthur thought he heard someone scream, but he wasn’t sure if it was friend or foe.

Arthur whirled, swinging the blade. It moved like an extension of his arm, perfectly balanced and almost unnervingly light. It sang as it cut the air, and he realized he was smiling. “Come on, then!” He cried, swinging the sword and grinning like a fool. “Come and see what you make of me!”

Merlin was at his side again, and his pleasure was a small bonfire in Arthur’s chest, “Of us,” He corrected, “Come, and see what you make of the prophecies now!”

[procrastinatorrex]

When Merlin woke again, the burning pain was gone, replaced with an uncomfortable tightness. He squinted against the glare of the candles and groaned when he saw the thick white bandages around his upper arm. 

“It could have been much worse.” Arthur. Sounding tired. Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the solid warmth that was his presence. Near. Alive. Whole. 

“Merlin?” When he opened his eyes Arthur was leaning over him, brow furrowed, “What’s wrong?” For a moment, he just lay there. The adrenaline of the battle had worn off, leaving the dragonlord feeling oddly disconnected from his own body. His magic hummed in a vague, far-off way that felt tired. Arthur’s presence through the bond felt much closer at that moment, as close as his own flesh, humming with quiet anxiety. 

The prince worried too much. It made Merlin grin up at him, drinking in the lines on his face, the tired blue eyes, the clean golden hair. “How long has it been?” he finally asked. If he’d been out long enough for the prince to take a bath and dry, it had been too long. 

Arthur winced, and Merlin frowned– had it been that long? “Where is Morgana?” Then his gaze dropped and he saw the damning flash of white. “You’re hurt!” 

Arthur’s hand was on his shoulder before Merlin could even try to sit up, holding him down. “You need to rest. Gaius’ orders.” 

“I’m not the one with a chest wound!” 

[procrastinatorrex]

“Merlin!” The voice came more insistently now, irritation lacing the tone. Merlin shook his head, confusion wrinkling his brow. Arthur didn’t feel irritated. The other side of the bond hummed in his chest with the kind of loose contentment he’d come to associate with sleep or pronounced drunkenness. “‘Thur?” He mumbled thickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Did’ja call me?”

“MERLIN!” The dragonlord toppled out of bed as the voice came again, this time almost a roar. “Ah! Ow! What?! I was sleeping you prat!” 

 The room was silent and empty. Outside his partly open window, the pink light of dawn bloomed over the white stone of the citadel. Birds chirped.  

Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

[procrastinatorrex]

Arthur couldn’t sleep.

He’d never been one to toss and turn in the past; if he wasn’t tired, he simply stayed at his desk or paced, or went to see his dogs, or checked on the night watch. Tonight, he lay in bed staring up at the crimson canopy, watching the firelight play with the shadows and trying not to think about his tingling arm. 

He could feel the sorcerer. It was as though the other man was there, just beside him, and Arthur could turn his head and see him. Except, of course, that would never be. His father might allow a sorcerer to live, for a short time, if it was necessary to save his son and heir, but he’d never allow them to be… close. 

There was an odd smell in the air, comforting, though faint. Sage and the faintly salty scent of skin, just a hint of some kind of spice. Arthur was sure he knew exactly who would smell like that, if he could lean close, perhaps at the nape of that long neck…

It was impossible. 

He rolled over, tried to shake the mad tingling out of his hand to no avail. His chest felt heavy, the black lines of the mark looked gold in the firelight. His fingers tingled like someone was stroking his skin. Amusement drifted through the back of his mind, and Arthur had a sudden realization; “Stop it!” He said, out loud in the empty room, “stop it, you prat!” the prince was certain that the sorcerer could hear, somehow. “I’m trying to sleep. Go away!”

He was both relieved and disappointed when the tingling faded and the smell of sage on the air was overtaken by hints of woodsmoke from the fire. The heavy feeling in his chest remained but lightened. Arthur had a sudden, bizarre surge of fond amusement, like an echo of a feeling, before the bond quieted to a gentle thrum. 

The prince rolled over and was asleep in moments.

[procrastinatorrex]

Exasperation, a buzz of fond irritation sizzled along the back of his neck, then Merlin was at his back. He carried no blade, but his hands were glowing like torches, sparking and snapping with power. The shadow warriors drew back, eyes wide.

Traitor! It took Arthur a moment to realize that the harsh sound wasn’t spoken aloud— Someone, one of the attackers, shouted it in Arthur’s mind. But— how? He realized with a jolt that it was Merlin who had been accused— was he sharing the Druid’s Speaking with Arthur? How long had that been possible?

It isn’t, Merlin’s mental voice, familiar and warm, spoke softly in his mind, I’ve only heard of such sharing among the long-bonded, ancient pairings with great power.

Why are you whispering? Arthur thought back, feeling awkward and foolish as he always did when trying to think at Merlin.

Suddenly the blue-eyed sorcerer was in front of him. Only years of training kept him from accidentally disemboweling his partner on sheer reflex— “Fool!” he hissed, fear quickly warming into anger, “You can’t just—“

Merlin pressed close, oblivious of the blade, oblivious of the attackers, and slid his hand into Arthur’s— their marks sparked when they touched, a moment of static that buzzed up Arthur’s veins. The sorcerer grinned fiercely, Take up your blade, King of Albion, he sent to Arthur, Show the doubters and the fools who they have challenged.

Future snip from this fic.

[procrastinatorrex]

Merlin, as it turned out, did indeed know how to ride a horse, though— “you ride like a spinster.” Arthur complained, having doubled back, with great huffing and rolling of eyes, to meet Merlin at the edge of the trees. “You ride like a peasant,” Merlin replied cheerfully. 

“Druid peasants must be uncommonly good riders.” Leon cut in before Arthur could erupt. 

“No, but they are the only ones who do, usually.” 

“... do what?” 

“Ride,” Merlin said, and with a grin, vanished.

[procrastinatorrex]

“A bond must be formed before it can be broken.” Merlin’s voice came to his ears alone and pulled Arthur from his thoughts. He looked up to see those golden eyes, watching him solemnly. “I know you wish to be free of me, but we were not destined to simply walk past each other. We were made for impact, you and I.”

The dragonlord held out his hand.

Arthur took it.