DISCLAIMER: (I really have to start doing these XP) I don't own Merlin. If I did, Agravaine would have died in s04e02. Sheesh.
Alright, get ready for - the Whump!War ! :D I'll be putting one in the Soul Eater category soon too, but for now here's the overview:
Basically it's a fanfic where the readers write the chapters. Well, the first one – the intro – I will write, but after that… yay! They'll probably be completely out of order and won't make much sense together, but the idea is that each chapter is a one-shot in which one character or more is the whump! victim. Choose one – could be your favorite, could be your least favorite – and write a one-shot in which they get tortured, beaten, stabbed, run over by a horse, even killed, and then PM or review it to me. I'd actually prefer you PM it, because you'll kind of fill up the review page and give readers unintentional sneak peeks if you send it to me via review! *le gasp* but anyways, if you want I will beta it, although if you don't want me to that's fine. Then what happens is I post it as the next chapter! *dun dun duuunn* you will get full credit – duh – and we'll all hug you and give you cookies!
RULES ARE…
No stealing this idea. I'm putting a lot of work into it and I don't like it when people swipe my stuff. You may find yourself being attacked by rabid giraffes and plot bunnies in the middle of the night.
Please have some sort of plot line in your one-shot. I know, it's not going to be some long multi-chapter fic that you'll have to dedicate yourself to, but it should make sense. Don't start with 'Merlin was thrown in a cage and kicked and strung up and beat to death. The end.' Nobody wants to read that. -.-
Make it ledgible. If it's all 'So the wild dogs attacked Merlin cuz he wuz bein clumsy and stupid as usual so the wild dogs ttacked hm & tore hm up to bitz.' Plz no txt tlk. Iz vry annoying. I will get vry P.O.'d. o.O
I reserve the right to veto a story if it's too graphic, too mature, too txt tlky (although I will offer to beta it), or anything that would make it bad for kids/bad in general to read. Also, no slash. No girlxgirl or boyxboy. Sorry, but it makes me gag. If you're really really desperate to write a slashy whump fic, go post it somewhere else. I'll accept bromance.
Like I said in Rule 4, let's keep it PG13. Or, in our fanfiction language, T-K+. and no crack!fics. this is a whump war.
Also, if you have a sequel chapter or a filler or something I'll post that too, but just… make sure it exceeds a thousand words. actually, that goes for pretty much every chapter. Although I might make exceptions for those small tearjerking five-hundred-word drabbles if that's what you're really good at.
Well, I think that's it! :D oh wait, one more thing – if you write Merlin!whump, I will hug you to death. Not that I hate him – in fact I think his ears are adorable – just that I have this complex where I love to torture my favorite characters… o.O so yeah... Just warning ya! This story might not be as 'whumpy' as others, but I consider it whump. kind of. o.o with the whole dagger-twisting thing… ah, just read it. ;3
Oh, and, if you want to, - /watch?v=i6dfuNNNhnw – it's the soundrack from How to Train Your Dragon, just put youtube in front of it ;) this one's 'Where's Hiccup,' it's kind of sad and '' but it gets cheerful in the middle, then back to sad… it kinda fits this story c; like the sad… then the memories are happy… then sad again… really sad…
Kay, now let's get started!
Arthur sighed. Council meetings were so boring. Just a bunch of elderly men with plump bellies and fancy robes arguing about the prices of apples in contrast with the prices of grapes. Seriously. Why did they even need him here? Since he'd become King, nothing of import had happened. All he did was sit around listening to these old 'advisors' babble… if only some sort of battle were happening. Anything to get him off this uncomfortable wooden throne-chair. He grimaced at Merlin, who was watching with an amused grin off to the side. One of the councilors waved him over and ordered some mead, while the manservant saw fit to stifle his giggle and run off with a teasing smile shot at his King. Arthur wanted to groan out loud – alcohol was exactly what they didn't need these paunchy debating idiots drinking. Everything was going downhill fast. Gwaine, who was standing around with the other knights as per usual, gave an eager glance towards the door where Merlin had disappeared, the serving door that led to the kitchens. Now Arthur let out a barely audible groan. The councilors drinking was one thing – they could be tugged back to their rooms quickly by their personal servants, and it would probably make their conversation more entertaining – but Gwaine drinking? He already did too much of that. This would just make him blather unintelligibly about unicorns and whatnot. And a knight was much stronger and unwilling than a fat lord.
Just as Merlin popped back in with the promised pitcher of mead and was hurrying over to the man – Lord Bolitar or something like that – the throne doors were blown off their hinges to the accompanying girly shrieks of the lords. They scattered and thumped their way slowly to the walls, where they huddled, terrified. Gwaine pouted, disappointed, for now he obviously wouldn't get any mead, but drew his sword anyways and matched the level blades of Elyan and Percival beside him. A sorcerer, a middle-aged man with a small salt-and-pepper beard with hair to match, stood with an evil smirk that was rather pathetic compared to Morgana's legendary one. Arthur drew his sword and stood at the head of his knights, noticing out of the corner of his eye how Merlin stooped and slowly picked up a small knife that had fallen from one of the dead guard's belts. He stood by the door, then very carefully made his way around the pillars, making sure the sorcerer didn't notice him, to stand about even with Arthur by the wall.
"You used magic in front of me, deeming you an enemy to the throne," Arthur threatened, but his manservant could see the slightly bored dull look in his eyes like this was a speech he could recite in his sleep. "You are under arrest."
"I don't think so," the sorcerer sneered. "I am Dalmar, the great druid outcast that resides in the forest of Ascetir. It seems you are the great and mighty King Arthur. I'd expected you to be… older." The King visibly snarled at this, and readied his sword. "You've become troublesome of late," Dalmar continued. "I think I'll eliminate the trouble."
With a flick of his wrist, an unseen knife came hurtling through the air towards Arthur, who found that he couldn't move. Dalmar had frozen him with a muttered spell and a golden flash of eyes. The knights were seemingly too startled to move, and the King just gazed with wide eyes at the small dagger that seemed to slow down infinitesimally as it neared his chest. This is it. I don't die in battle, but by the hand of a cowardly sorcerer that barges into my throne room and freezes me with a spell. I didn't want to be remembered like this.
Slowly, his blue eyes closed and he readied himself for the pain. I'm sorry, Guinevere. He heard the sound of metal through flesh, the small gasp, and the thud as a body hit the floor. But was it his own? No, he didn't think so. Then what…? All the knights were, he realized, frozen as well – it hadn't been just shock keeping them in place. But there was no flash of pain, no impact of his limbs against the cold stone floor. Arthur's eyes snapped open.
"Merlin!"
Gwaine's roar drowned out the King's frantic cry, and by some miracle the knight tore free of the spell and attacked Dalmar visciously. The sorcerer dodged, still grinning, although a little surprised that someone could break through his enchantment. With a flick of his wrist, the dagger twisted in Merlin's chest, making the servant cry out in pain. Again and again the sorcerer did this, Merlin's protests becoming weaker and weaker, until Gwaine lost it completely and leaped forward, skewering Dalmar through his heart. For a second he looked surprised at the blade sprouting out of his skin, but then he slumped and it was over. Well, almost…
"Merlin, no," Arthur whispered, dropping to his knees by his manservant's side. The warlock's breathing had become labored, his eyes screwed shut tightly. "Somebody get Gaius!" the blonde royal called, his voice breaking at the physician's name. "Hurry…"
"No, Arthur…" came the broken whisper. "It's too late… don't… waste any supplies… on me…" His master shook his head, eyes fixed on the dagger imbedded in the servant's skinny chest. His threadbare blue shirt was already slowly turning the color of the bright red neckerchief fastened around his neck. The small nicks and tears in the scrap of fabric brought back memories, memories Arthur had used to cherish.
"Well I may be a wimp, but at least I'm not a… dollop head."
"There's no such word."
"It's idiomatic."
"It's what?"
"You need to be more in touch with the people."
"Describe 'dollop head.'"
"In two words?"
"Yeah."
"Uh… Prince Arthur."
Now there would be no more friendly spats, no more stupid nicknames like 'clotpole' or 'dollop head' or 'prat.' No, don't think that, you'll save him, Merlin's going to survive… he always survives…
Arthur watched, horrified, as the rocks fell into the small gulley, cutting himself off from the bandits and…
"Merlin!"
The King didn't register Gwaine's sobs as he clutched his first friend's hand, not pleading or begging, just accepting the warlock's fate. No, he always survives… Merlin always survives… he just doesn't die… he'll make it this time too…
"Oh, I know who you are."
"Good."
"You're a prat. And a royal one."
That strange speech, almost like… he was saying goodbye.
"Just… don't be a prat."
And then he'd left, leaving a bewildered Arthur behind. But he came back, just like he always did. Merlin went through the same battles he did, no armor or weapons or anything. Just that familiar leather jacket and the ever-present neckerchief. He survived that mace to the chest… this is nothing… we just have to get Gaius… he'll fix you up, Merlin… don't worry… you can have as much time off work as you need… and then you can get back to being your regular clumsy self...
"Merlin?"
"Nah, I don't really fancy it."
"You don't have a choice, Merlin."
"Alright."
Always the sarcastic one, the clumsy one, the laughing one, the loyal one… he never left. Merlin always survives… he always makes it… he always makes it…
Now the memories start to swirl, bits and pieces flashing before the King's eyes.
.
"It's rat."
.
"You just had to open your big mouth, didn't you Merlin?"
.
"Body. Shield. Body. Shield. Body. Shield. Head."
"Head?" Clang. "Ow…"
.
"It's fine." Then the choking, Arthur turning, horrified. Merlin crumpling to the ground.
"It's poison!"
.
"Destinies… are troublesome things. You feel trapped. Like your whole life has been planned out for you and you've got no control over anything and sometimes you don't know if a destiny decided is really the best thing at all."
"How come you're so knowledgeable?"
"Hm? Oh, I read a book."
"What did this book tell you? Should I marry her?"
"That's not my place to say, sire."
"I'm asking you, it's your job to answer."
"You really want to know what I think?"
A shrug.
"I think you're mad, I think you're all mad, people should marry for love. Not for convenience, and if Uther thinks that an unhappy king will make for a stronger kingdom then he's wrong. Because you may be destined to rule Camelot… but you have a choice, as to how you do it."
.
"I need to talk to you."
"You still haven't got it yet, have you? I decide when we need to talk."
"Not today."
"I sometimes wonder if you know who I am!"
"Oh, I know who you are."
"Good."
"You're a prat. And a royal one."
"Are you ever going to change, Merlin?"
"No, you'd get bored! … Promise me this, if you get another servant, don't get a bootlicker."
"Is this you trying to leave your job?"
"No. I'm happy to be your servant… until the day I die."
"Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin. Other times…"
"Well, I know you. You're a great warrior. And one day you'll be a great king."
"That's very kind of you."
"But you must learn to listen as well as you fight."
"Any other pointers?"
"No, that's it. Just… don't be a prat."
.
"I promise…" Arthur whispered, and a faint smile graced the dying warlock's lips. No, no, no… this isn't happening… I'm not kneeling by the side of my manservant – my friend – as he dies… Merlin doesn't die… it doesn't happen… but it is… why?
A small, choked laugh escaped Merlin's lungs. "Well, that's good. So you remembered… well, I'll save the dramatic speech now and let you remember that instead…"
"No, you're going to make it. Gaius will be here… he'll fix you up…" Even Arthur realized how desperate he sounded. The worst part was, Gwaine made no move to agree or disagree, just sat there with now-silent tears running down his cheeks. "You're not dying… you just don't die…"
The laugh returned. "Arthur, I'm still human… and all humans die… I always knew this was my destiny… that I'd die… for you… I guess you still don't know the whole story… ha… well, get Gaius to tell you…"
Arthur shook his head. "Tell me wh- no, nevermind that. Tell me what I need to do now. We need… ah, bandages. I'll make some." The king began to tear off a strip of fabric from his shirt, press it to the wound around the dagger. Merlin gasped and waved it away.
"No, it won't help… I'm too far gone… hey, just promise me these three things…"
"Anything," the king sobbed.
Another smile. "One… when you get another servant, don't get a bootlicker…"
"That's only one," Arthur managed to whisper.
"Two… don't be a prat…"
The king silently mouthed the word three.
"Remember… that… I was happy to be your servant… until the day I died…"
Merlin took one last shuddering breath and his lips twitched into a tiny smile. Then his bright blue eyes began to close as he exhaled, and his head fell limply to the side.
The great warlock was dead.
Far away, and yet so close they felt they could touch it, all the inhabitants of the throne room at that moment – including a horrified Gaius just rushing in on the scene followed by a sobbing Gwen – felt their very bones shake as dust was loosed from the stones by the rumbling roar… the roar of a grieving dragon. Kilgarrah's magic seemed to weave through Camelot itself, wrapping around Merlin and keening with a sound full of remorse and sorrow. A shriller cry accompanied it, that of the small hatchling Aithusa.
For the last of the dragonlords, the protector of King Arthur, the greatest warlock the world will ever know, who went by the name of Emrys, but chiefly Merlin…
was dead.
'Do you feel cold and lost in desperation
You build up hope but failure's all you've known
Remember all the sadness and frustration
And let it go, let it go…'
Iridescent by Linkin Park