A.N./ Inspired by Out Of My Face, by Saving Abel. Don't own it or Merlin. Rated K+ for language.
"I'd love to hit you," Merlin muttered under his breath. "In the face."
No control. No freedom. No peace of mind. Stifled, punished, crushed. Burnings, beheadings, torture.
Why did Uther think he could do all of this?
And, added to it, he just had to be imperious and pigheaded too.
Strange how ironic that wasn't. Icing on the cake, it was the most natural thing in the world, and the most sickening.
So as Merlin stomped away from the throne room, he inwardly raged and demanded the king to get the hell out of his face. For all bloody time.
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