Fic: "Arthur watched magic"
Dec. 27th, 2010 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cyusTitle: Arthur watched magic
Characters/Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Warning: Character Death, disturbing imagery, violence, gore
Length: 600 words
Summary: Arthur just wanted to understand magic.
Arthur watched magic pool in Merlin's belly button, glowing bright and expanding with every exhale, gliding outwards across his chest and down to his groin.
"It's like you're made of it," he whispered as he crouched next to Merlin's head and traced soft and careful fingertips over the straining muscles of Merlin's arms, the stretched, pale skin that pulsed with magic as his fingers closed to fists and opened again and his eyes were wide and wider, only on Arthur.
His father thought it foolish but accepted it for alchemy. For Arthur it was more than that, something like love maybe, something metaphysical just like the magic infusing Merlin's every cell.
"I don't know how you do it," Arthur said again, as he did often.
Arthur had cleared part of his chambers and had laid Merlin bare, spread-eagled and pinned like a butterfly, his magic warming the room in winter and cooling it in summer, and while he sat over papers and studies the great wars, he couldn't help but glance up every few minutes and drop everything he was doing and step across where Merlin's toes were curling and uncurling, the sun played over the glow of his magic and his naked body and Merlin's dry lips whispered something like "Please," and something like "Love," and something like "Destiny."
"I only want to understand, Merlin, help me understand this." Arthur drew a knife through skin, peeling back layer after layer, leaving Merlin cut to the bone at the elbow, at the soft spot where groin met thigh and his penis hung limp. Magic seemed to pulse from everywhere, undefinable and impossible to locate.
"Help me understand," Arthur whispered into Merlin's ear at night, when he curled around him on the cold stone floor and patterned his fingertips over Merlin's eyelids and ribs and the sharp outline of his hipbones, smearing into blood where Merlin was bleeding and into tears where he was crying and into saliva, his own, when Arthur was kissing him.
The Secret Of Sorcery And How It Can Be Harnessed For Peace was the title of Arthur's manuscript on his desk, and he'd done crude drawings of Merlin, cursing his lack of artistic talent, and aborted descriptions of his findings, cursing his lack of knowledge.
"Have you done away with that thing yet?" his father asked when they took lunch in the Great Hall and when Arthur returned to his chambers and fed Merlin kisses, tickled his palms and the soles of his feet and rubbed slow circles over Merlin's heart, he couldn't bear to.
"Why won't you tell me?" Arthur whispered that night, his manuscript mocking him as much as his father's speeches and Merlin's silence.
Merlin's eyes were wide and silent in reply, following Arthur's steps through the room, from desk to bed and bed to window, magic pulsing in steady beats.
"Is it in your heart?" Arthur asked from the window, and when he turned Merlin had turned his face and closed his eyes.
"Destiny," Merlin murmured and Arthur wasn't sure if he was stating or asking or begging.
Arthur pressed a kiss to his hairline and a kiss to his jaw and his neck. "I have to know," he whispered to Merlin's lips. "I have to know if that's where it's coming from, if that's all it is. I can prove it's good, don't you understand? If that's what it is, I can prove that it's nothing to be afraid of."
Hours later, blood pooling around Merlin's opened ribcage, eyes wide and magic silent Arthur scribbled please and destiny and love under his drawings and his writings, and he sat at his desk and wept.
Characters/Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Warning: Character Death, disturbing imagery, violence, gore
Length: 600 words
Summary: Arthur just wanted to understand magic.
Arthur watched magic pool in Merlin's belly button, glowing bright and expanding with every exhale, gliding outwards across his chest and down to his groin.
"It's like you're made of it," he whispered as he crouched next to Merlin's head and traced soft and careful fingertips over the straining muscles of Merlin's arms, the stretched, pale skin that pulsed with magic as his fingers closed to fists and opened again and his eyes were wide and wider, only on Arthur.
His father thought it foolish but accepted it for alchemy. For Arthur it was more than that, something like love maybe, something metaphysical just like the magic infusing Merlin's every cell.
"I don't know how you do it," Arthur said again, as he did often.
Arthur had cleared part of his chambers and had laid Merlin bare, spread-eagled and pinned like a butterfly, his magic warming the room in winter and cooling it in summer, and while he sat over papers and studies the great wars, he couldn't help but glance up every few minutes and drop everything he was doing and step across where Merlin's toes were curling and uncurling, the sun played over the glow of his magic and his naked body and Merlin's dry lips whispered something like "Please," and something like "Love," and something like "Destiny."
"I only want to understand, Merlin, help me understand this." Arthur drew a knife through skin, peeling back layer after layer, leaving Merlin cut to the bone at the elbow, at the soft spot where groin met thigh and his penis hung limp. Magic seemed to pulse from everywhere, undefinable and impossible to locate.
"Help me understand," Arthur whispered into Merlin's ear at night, when he curled around him on the cold stone floor and patterned his fingertips over Merlin's eyelids and ribs and the sharp outline of his hipbones, smearing into blood where Merlin was bleeding and into tears where he was crying and into saliva, his own, when Arthur was kissing him.
The Secret Of Sorcery And How It Can Be Harnessed For Peace was the title of Arthur's manuscript on his desk, and he'd done crude drawings of Merlin, cursing his lack of artistic talent, and aborted descriptions of his findings, cursing his lack of knowledge.
"Have you done away with that thing yet?" his father asked when they took lunch in the Great Hall and when Arthur returned to his chambers and fed Merlin kisses, tickled his palms and the soles of his feet and rubbed slow circles over Merlin's heart, he couldn't bear to.
"Why won't you tell me?" Arthur whispered that night, his manuscript mocking him as much as his father's speeches and Merlin's silence.
Merlin's eyes were wide and silent in reply, following Arthur's steps through the room, from desk to bed and bed to window, magic pulsing in steady beats.
"Is it in your heart?" Arthur asked from the window, and when he turned Merlin had turned his face and closed his eyes.
"Destiny," Merlin murmured and Arthur wasn't sure if he was stating or asking or begging.
Arthur pressed a kiss to his hairline and a kiss to his jaw and his neck. "I have to know," he whispered to Merlin's lips. "I have to know if that's where it's coming from, if that's all it is. I can prove it's good, don't you understand? If that's what it is, I can prove that it's nothing to be afraid of."
Hours later, blood pooling around Merlin's opened ribcage, eyes wide and magic silent Arthur scribbled please and destiny and love under his drawings and his writings, and he sat at his desk and wept.
