ext_1718 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
beeej.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-02-25 04:19 pm
beeej.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-02-25 04:19 pm
Externality by zarathuse (NC-17)
Fandom: MERLIN
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Length: ~9,700 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zarathuse
Author Website: none that I found
Why this must be read: Boys trying very hard to tell each other things without actually saying anything. Arthur is a little too in love with his sword. Witty, snarky banter. And OMG hot, magic sword sex! Amazingly, this is the author's first fandom fic, ever. Personally, I can't wait to see what she comes up with next. :D
“Well?”
Merlin startles, and looks up to find Arthur peering at him, face a mixture of genuine confusion and something a little like fond amusement.
“I’m trying to, um.”
Merlin falters. He’d spent a great deal of time planning how he would get Arthur out to the lake and then even more time searching for a spell that would retrieve the sword, but no time at all planning what, exactly, he was going to say.
“There’s something that belongs to you in this lake,” he says finally. “I’m trying to retrieve it.”
Arthur’s forehead creases, and the fond amusement seems to be shifting toward significantly less fond exasperation. “I think you’ll find, Merlin, that everything in that lake belongs to me. What, specifically, are you looking for? And how do you expect muttering to yourself like a madman will help you find it?”
Merlin opens his mouth to explain that he’d been casting a spell, thank you, and finds that the words simply won’t come. Uther is dead and gone, and Merlin knows without doubt that Arthur would never execute him, but he possesses no such certainty that Arthur wouldn’t banish him or, at the very least, have him sacked. That he wouldn’t pull away in horror and disgust, and look at Merlin with hatred and fear in his eyes. And that last image is enough to cause something in Merlin’s gut to twist uncomfortably, and his teeth to snap shut around his confession.
So, Merlin improvises.
“I think there’s a creature in the lake,” he says, forcing it out in one breath and trying not to think about how he really is absolute shit at lying. “A magical kind of, you know. Creature. And when I asked Gaius, he said that, er, that we need to make a formal, um. Injunction. Of it. The creature, that is.”
Merlin cringes even as he says it, but Arthur just quirks him that you are so weird half-smile Merlin’s never seen directed at anybody else and takes a step back toward the sand at the edge of the water.
“Perhaps I should try, then. Since it’s my property gone missing, and all. And anyway,” he raises his eyes to the sky, “it looks like rain. We’d do well to be done here sooner rather than later.”
Then, he tilts his chin back and calls out loudly across the lake: “I am Arthur Pendragon, king of this land, and I have come to claim that which is mine.”
If Merlin tried something like that, he’d look like an idiot. Arthur should have looked like an idiot, hair mussed with sweat from the morning’s ride and hands stained brown with dead bark. Instead, he looks kind of magnificent, like one of the great kings of legend. Merlin feels his breath catch, and almost regrets for a moment that there’s no actual magical creature in the lake for Arthur to injunct.
There’s no response, of course, though Merlin has to remind himself he doesn’t expect one.
Arthur waits a beat, two, then shrugs a shoulder and turns to walk toward where they’ve left the horses.
“We really ought to be going,” he says. “Can’t you feel there’s a storm coming?”
Merlin can’t, actually, though his blood is still humming with the residual magic of his failed spell. Then, suddenly, a spark of something old and powerful shoots up Merlin’s spine, and he can’t help but cry out at the feel of it.
Externality
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Length: ~9,700 words
Author on LJ:
zarathuseAuthor Website: none that I found
Why this must be read: Boys trying very hard to tell each other things without actually saying anything. Arthur is a little too in love with his sword. Witty, snarky banter. And OMG hot, magic sword sex! Amazingly, this is the author's first fandom fic, ever. Personally, I can't wait to see what she comes up with next. :D
“Well?”
Merlin startles, and looks up to find Arthur peering at him, face a mixture of genuine confusion and something a little like fond amusement.
“I’m trying to, um.”
Merlin falters. He’d spent a great deal of time planning how he would get Arthur out to the lake and then even more time searching for a spell that would retrieve the sword, but no time at all planning what, exactly, he was going to say.
“There’s something that belongs to you in this lake,” he says finally. “I’m trying to retrieve it.”
Arthur’s forehead creases, and the fond amusement seems to be shifting toward significantly less fond exasperation. “I think you’ll find, Merlin, that everything in that lake belongs to me. What, specifically, are you looking for? And how do you expect muttering to yourself like a madman will help you find it?”
Merlin opens his mouth to explain that he’d been casting a spell, thank you, and finds that the words simply won’t come. Uther is dead and gone, and Merlin knows without doubt that Arthur would never execute him, but he possesses no such certainty that Arthur wouldn’t banish him or, at the very least, have him sacked. That he wouldn’t pull away in horror and disgust, and look at Merlin with hatred and fear in his eyes. And that last image is enough to cause something in Merlin’s gut to twist uncomfortably, and his teeth to snap shut around his confession.
So, Merlin improvises.
“I think there’s a creature in the lake,” he says, forcing it out in one breath and trying not to think about how he really is absolute shit at lying. “A magical kind of, you know. Creature. And when I asked Gaius, he said that, er, that we need to make a formal, um. Injunction. Of it. The creature, that is.”
Merlin cringes even as he says it, but Arthur just quirks him that you are so weird half-smile Merlin’s never seen directed at anybody else and takes a step back toward the sand at the edge of the water.
“Perhaps I should try, then. Since it’s my property gone missing, and all. And anyway,” he raises his eyes to the sky, “it looks like rain. We’d do well to be done here sooner rather than later.”
Then, he tilts his chin back and calls out loudly across the lake: “I am Arthur Pendragon, king of this land, and I have come to claim that which is mine.”
If Merlin tried something like that, he’d look like an idiot. Arthur should have looked like an idiot, hair mussed with sweat from the morning’s ride and hands stained brown with dead bark. Instead, he looks kind of magnificent, like one of the great kings of legend. Merlin feels his breath catch, and almost regrets for a moment that there’s no actual magical creature in the lake for Arthur to injunct.
There’s no response, of course, though Merlin has to remind himself he doesn’t expect one.
Arthur waits a beat, two, then shrugs a shoulder and turns to walk toward where they’ve left the horses.
“We really ought to be going,” he says. “Can’t you feel there’s a storm coming?”
Merlin can’t, actually, though his blood is still humming with the residual magic of his failed spell. Then, suddenly, a spark of something old and powerful shoots up Merlin’s spine, and he can’t help but cry out at the feel of it.
Externality
no subject
no subject