A little Bamf!Merlin today, because I'm bored and stressed!
First Merlin fic, also an experiment to see whether I still have the writing spark after not having time or inspiration for months!
Anyways, hope you enjoy, see you after the show!
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Merlin.
It was definitely not the first time Merlin had been tied up. It was also not the first time that the Crown Prat of Camelot had gone and gotten captured by bandits.
Of which he had done so. (Again.)
It was, however, the first time that they had really bothered to consider that Merlin may have been just a tad bit dangerous. It was kind of flattering, although the warlock was a little bit worried that one of them may have seen him use magic.
It might explain the chains, shackles and vomit-worthy (likely a pair of used socks) gag, which was considerably more than the length of rope that they'd tied Arthur up in.
Sighing, he observed the clotpole, who was unconscious and drooling on the other side of the clearing.
Blood, which had long since dried, trailed down the side of his head from a small wound above the ear. That worried the warlock, but not overly much (Arthur had dealt with worse) and he decided that besides not being awake (probably for the best, if Merlin was to get them both out of there, and he would) Arthur would live.
Satisfied, he discretely looked around the rest of the camp.
There were two guards at the entrance of a large tent, one of them dozing, the other carving something from a block of wood. Merlin assumed that they were guarding the leader's tent. A fire crackled off somewhere to Merlin's left.
There weren't any other bandits in sight.
He shifted a bit, the guard glared at him, Merlin glared back. The guard mimed slicing a throat and pointed towards Arthur.
If looks could kill, the guard would be a pile of ash.
Well, his looks could, but Merlin decided against it.
Preparing his magic, Merlin was never gladder that he didn't need to speak for most spells.
And by the Goddess! Was that gag ever foul! His eyes were watering from the stench, never mind the taste.
With a flash of golden eyes, the awake guard slumped over, asleep. The other guard snored louder.
Smirking, Merlin loosened the chains, stood up and stepped out of them. Bringing his shackled wrists to his face, he ripped the gag out of his mouth.
Bloody hell! They areused socks! Merlin incinerated them. The ashes blew away into the wind, like falling snow.
"Having fun?" an oily voice drawled. Merlin started and turned to face who had spoken. An average sized man stood in the doorway of one of the tents. His hair was dark, eyes dark green, his face clean-shaven, and he looked slim but had a fair bit of strength in his upper body.
He was also a sorcerer.
Well, it was fairly obvious really, with the glowing magic runes patterning his forearms. Merlin recognised them, they increased the power of certain spells, most commonly the ones used to attack.
Not that they made him any match for the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth. Grinning inwardly, he raised an eyebrow in a close approximation of Gaius'.
"Not really, I'm afraid your hospitality leaves something to be desired," Merlin quipped, staring at the sorcerer with an expression of disdain. The dark green eyes flashed with irritation.
"Do shut up, I really do not appreciate being mocked by some servant with a few party tricks up his sleeve. Now, if you would be so kind as to inform me why there is a magic-user in the employment of the son of the King of Camelot?" he said, words positively dripping with condescension. Merlin prickled at the tone.
"As if I would tell you, and party tricks? Really? Didn't anybody ever tell you not to underestimate your opponents?" Merlin asked, eyes flashing with the briefest glimpse of gold. The sorcerer frowned and tensed, but relaxed when the warlock's eyes reverted to their usual blue.
"I expect there is little to underestimate in your case," he sniffed, flapping his hand dismissively, "and honestly, I doubt you would make a worthy opponent for the great Akar? I am probably the most powerful magic-user alive, besides the High Priestess Nimueh, you're a pitiful little boy with a death wish."
Merlin nearly choked a bit when… Akar? ...Mentioned Nimueh, but kept his face impassive as the last few dregs of terror brought by her name morphed into bemusement. Just how out of touch was this guy? And most powerful magic-user alive? Hah! The warlock snickered.
"I think you might want to do a quick fact check, Nimueh's been dead for a while buddy, and I'm afraid the title of 'most powerful magic-user alive' belongs to Emrys. Now run along before I have to hurt you," Merlin waved his hand in a 'shoo' motion and settled back on his heels, head tilted and eyes glittering. The sorcerer narrowed his eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous, Emrys doesn't exist. If he did, magic would've already been restored to the land," Akar declared, "although I would like to know why you seem to think the High Priestess is dead. The only one who'll be declared dead will be your precious prince," he gave a mocking look to Merlin, looking down his nose as much as he could at the taller man, who huffed and stood even taller, eyes hardening ever so slightly.
"Because I killed her," Merlin smiled without humour or happiness, ignoring the remark about dead sovereigns, "which is what will happen to you if you don't let Arthur and I go." The warlock's eyes glinted dangerously and Akar felt something shift in the back of his mind, a bit of awe and a whole lot of 'please do what he says and get the hell out of there!' He shoved it to the side, unsettled.
"I don't think so, you should follow your own advice boy because even if you did manage to kill someone as strong as Nimueh, it was probably by accident. Not that you did," he spat, getting annoyed by the lack of respect from the insolent servant and unsettled by the growing sense of alarm and dread. Merlin shot an unimpressed look at the sorcerer, rolling his eyes.
"I'd say that it was pretty intentional, given how it happened. Lightning doesn't just strike angry sorceresses by accident you know," Merlin said nonchalantly, letting a few trickles of magic manifest outwardly. Gold shone from his iris like sunlight through storm clouds, his skin started to glow.
The sorcerers eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath, fear seeping into his expression. He took half a step back before composing himself, swallowing visibly. The warlock let some more magic through. The air became thick with energy.
"Now, I'll ask you once more, and only once more, let us go," Merlin said, tone unyielding and cold. Akar trembled, though he hid it well.
"N-no!" he yelled, voice shaking through a determined front. A moment later, he knew he had made the wrong decision. The warlock let molten gold flood his eyes, face emotionless except for an empty smile. The wind picked up slightly, although it never touched the dozing royal. The forest seemed to whisper with excited murmurs. The birds went quiet.
Storm clouds covered the sky above, billowing and undulating, crackling with electricity and power. Cutting wind and rain which seemed both hot and cold at once swirled in the air, coating parts of the clearing with frost and others with flickering flames.
The air around the Crown Prince glowed softly, twinkling stars emitting a calm and peaceful aura. He remained undisturbed in his slumber.
The very earth itself seemed to smooth itself around the figure standing in the middle of it all, who was wreathed in blinding, crackling light, and whose eyes shone with enough power to fell an army, a castle, a mountain, even a kingdom.
Akar knew who this was, for only one person could ever have this much power at his command and not explode from the sheer magnitude of what they held within themselves.
Magic incarnate, they say. Akar could not doubt those words, not as the sheer dread and stunned terror consumed him. His mouth fell open, but he was speechless. His eyes watered and taking in breath grew difficult for the sorcerer as the potent power emanating for the figure grew thick in the air. He forced a few words out from his lips, voice shaking with fear.
"Y-you're him, you're Emrys… w-why do you p-protect a m-man who burns t-those like us?" Akar stuttered, although he knew in that moment that the man standing before him, serene and yet drenched in power the likes of which only gods wielded, was nothing like him, or anyone for that matter. He was magic in the form of a man born of destiny and necessity.
A man with the power to save, heal, build but also to destroy and kill. Of such compassion, that makes him so kind but at the same time so dangerous.
A man with the power to protect, which makes him stronger than any of the power-hungry maniacs that came before him.
A man who smiled fondly at the question, but also exasperatedly, as though he had been asked this question a thousand times before, and will give the same answer he had replied with every single damn time.
"He is my destiny, he is who will unite the lands of Albion and bring a Golden era to the people living in fear and pain," the warlock said, a single note of hope in the words, ringing out over a hundred harmonious emotions, each a variation of pure happiness, peace and love.
"He is the Once and Future King, who I am sworn to protect and serve until my death," the words were a promise, one filled with determination and loyalty, "and I will not allow anyone to bring that destiny to ruin."
Then Emrys raised his hand and the fond look disappeared, replaced with the wrath of magic incarnate.
Akar thought his death would be dark, a swift shadow falling over his eyes before he ceased to be, weary and aged heartbeat ceasing to beat again. Or perhaps flickering flames with his hands bound behind his back, lungs stiff with smoke and a charred black and blistering feet causing unbearable amounts of pain before he fell unconscious and never woke up.
Instead, there was the light of a thousand suns and the sensation of a million red-hot pins pricking his skin at once.
It lasted less than a second and he was gone.
Merlin sighed sadly as the ashes floated away in the breeze. He closed his eyes as a soft sort of sorrow, tinged with regret, washed over him in a wave. He let a few threads of magic out to repair the damage done to the clearing.
When he opened them, everything was as it was before, minus the sorcerer. The guards slumbered peacefully albeit a bit windswept, and most of the tents were still standing.
Arthur had a small smile on his bruised face, probably from the aftereffects of the blanket of comfort and peace Merlin had wrought around him.
The warlock smiled too, although still feeling perturbed at the loss of life.
Wobbling a little, the servant stepped over to his employer, a little clumsy from the loss of energy. Bending down, he hooked his arms under Arthur's shoulders and whispered a spell to make him lighter.
Whistling to call and calm the spooked horse standing uneasily at the edge, Merlin dragged his prince and gently lifted the injured man onto the saddle, securing him in place as much as he could while leaving Arthur unbound.
Merlin took the reins and began to walk through the forest and back to their campsite, where their equipment still resided.
The warlock didn't notice how the Once and Future Kings eyes had been open just a sliver, watching through the haze of contentment of peace.
He didn't see the fond and exasperated smile spreading across the monarchs face as the rocking motion of the horse lulled him to sleep.
How was it? Good? Bad? You should tell me, because reviews are nice and make me want to write more things!
Have a great day/night!