#merlinmicrofic

All the pages spoke of the Once and Future King, how he would return in the time of Albion's greatest need. Pages and pages and pages of how…

Leaving Merlin with no idea of, well… when.

Death's domain is no place for the god of spring, but today marks the thirtieth morning that he appears like the morning sun on the grey, barren meadows of Asphodel. His radiance, his brilliance are almost unbearable, but the god of the dead can't bring himself to avert his eyes as Arthur issues challenge after challenge to fallen soldiers and failed heroes. He wins every time, flashing Merlin a cocky grin.

It's easy to fall in love. It's hard to suppress desire.

Merlin isn't going to do it.

He thinks about it, but he's not.

"Here," he says, suddenly standing in front of Arthur. "You must be… famished." He holds out a pomegranate; it's the only fruit that grows in his realm.

Arthur meets his gaze as he plucks the fruit from his hand. It's hard to swallow. This had been a bad idea.

"Wait—" Merlin starts, reaching out.

Arthur holds the fruit out of range. "Taking back a gift? How inhospitable." He's chiding—teasing. Doesn't he know what eating food from this realm means?

Merlin watches breathlessly as Arthur pulls out a dagger. He doesn't look away from Merlin while peeling away the skin of the pomegranate. Heat builds under the hem of his toga.

Surely Arthur won't—

Arthur pops six seeds into his mouth. Juice drips down his chin. He wipes the trail away with his thumb, then holds it out towards Merlin, his gaze challenging. Merlin's tongue darts to wet his lips. He leans forward and licks the juice off of Arthur's thumb, dizzy with the heat of Arthur's eyes. He's been cold for so, so long.

Arthur's eyes darken. He surges forward, but the first touch of his lips to Merlin's is soft and gentle. Merlin surrenders to the heat and the kiss blazes to life with passion, like Arthur is starving and Merlin is the pomegranate now. Arthur's fingers tangle in Merlin's hair, adjusting the angle of his head. Merlin gasps and Arthur's tongue pushes into his mouth, an invasion of the sweetest kind.

They hail him, King. They hail, the Great Dragon Slayer!

[Fill for prompt: "Throne", Arthur Pendragon/Merlin. General]

@merlinmicrofic

“I don’t get the appeal at all,” Arthur had declared one lazy afternoon, as he and Merlin made their way back to the young king’s chambers.

“Of what?”

“This,” Arthur pointed into the empty throne room as Merlin stared, puzzled.

“The throne?”

“Yes. People actually fight over this, I don’t understand it at all.”

“Well, the cushioning is very comfortable, for a start.”

“You sat on the throne?!”

“What? No!” Merlin bit his tongue as Arthur raised an eyebrow, “I mean… a little?”

Arthur only smiled indulgently.

“You know, Merlin,” he leaned in close, “All those people who would have my head for the throne… I would give it up in a heartbeat.”

Merlin shook his head.

“Arthur…”

“I mean, they don’t realize the weight of it, the weight of the crown. It’s… responsibility, it’s an oath of protection, and it comes with so many tensions and danger. All they see, all they want is control, the power that comes with it.”

“Arthur, this is precisely why you deserve it. You realize that, right?”

Arthur let out a non-committal hum.

Merlin slipped his hand into the king’s and held on, rubbing soothing circles onto his knuckles. It had been a tough road this far, and it would only get tougher. The future was weighing them down; they both needed a release.

“Would it help if we…. found other uses for it?”

Arthur smirked at Merlin then, tugging him close.

Merlin is doing a stakeout against the threat of the week, but he keeps hearing noises. Hopefully it doesn't have anything to do with Arthur's morning moods.

“Watch me again,” Merlin says.

The crumpled piece of parchment rises to eye level and Morgana doesn’t blink, afraid to miss anything. The novelty of magic, even small magic such as this, has not worn off in the two days since their lessons began. Her gaze moves rapidly from the parchment to Merlin’s golden eyes and back again. Then, Merlin adds another word and the parchment falls gently to the table.

Merlin smiles widely at her. “Your turn.”

Morgana glares at the parchment with no small amount of apprehension. Yesterday, she had sent a rock across the room so forcefully that it was still embedded in the wall. Merlin had quickly transitioned to using softer items after that.

Taking a deep breath to relax the tension in her shoulders, Morgana speaks the words of magic. Just as they had practiced.

The parchment promptly bursts into flames.

Her exclamation is cut short by Merlin pouring a pitcher of water over the fire.

“Oh, this is hopeless,” she says. “I can’t control it!”

Merlin reaches out to pat her hand, which has tightened into a fist upon the table. “Not yet, but we’ve only just begun. I know you can do this Morgana, you just need to believe in yourself.”

His face is so earnest that she’s completely disarmed.

“I’ll... try again.” It sounds much less like a statement and more like a question, but Merlin still smiles encouragingly.

I can do this, she thinks. Hopes. And even if she can’t, even if it takes her years to master the smallest uses of magic, it’s a comfort to know she has a friend in Merlin.

The next time Morgana pours her magic into the incantation, she finds herself smiling as she does it.

As it turned out however, Merlin was a lot closer behind him than he thought. Merlin walked straight into him just as Arthur spun to face him.

“Merlin you-“

The word “idiot” stuck in his throat as he suddenly realised how blue Merlin’s eyes were. He stared deep into them, oblivious to the fact that Merlin was taking note of how blue Arthur's eyes were, and was staring right back.

"Blue" - a microfic from the prompt on the blog @merthurmicrofic (word count 100)

written for @merlinmicrofic 's "possessive". teen & up rating, morgana/gwen. 381 words!