sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2011-01-12 09:30 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2011-01-12 09:30 am
Harry Of The Caves
Title: Harry Of The Caves
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Merlin doesn't trust this new tournament knight at all. He probably has good reason.
BETA CREDIT, JESUS: It's likegirlpearl and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misswinterhill are telepathically linked.
Notes: Part of my "Under 1000" challenge. This clocks at around 1400, actually, but it's the spirit of the thing; I'm not going to go butchering a perfectly good story just to cram it into a thousand words. The goal is to get in a good writing headspace by setting a rule, not to apply the rule ruthlessly to what is already produced.
Also available at AO3.
***
Tournament time was always a brilliant time in Camelot. The innkeepers did a brisk business, as did the food-stall merchants and the trinket sellers. The women dressed gaily, the men strutted, and it seemed like the entire kingdom poured into the Citadel. Merlin enjoyed tournaments, when nobody was trying to magic anyone else to death. Above all else, it meant he got to watch Arthur fight, and there was nothing in the world like watching Arthur fight.
The servants of both the Citadel knights and the newcomers scurried and ran, never resting; Merlin ran among them, watching the knights fight and advising Arthur of their weaknesses. All the servants did it; it was part of the game. The other knights would know that Arthur had taken an injury in his left thigh, long healed now, but the nerves had been damaged by poison and from hip to knee the outside of his thigh would not feel a cut or a blow. Merlin, in turn, knew that this warrior favoured his left shoulder, or that one his ribs.
There was something off about one of the new men, though.
"He has a good build on him," Arthur said, watching two knights in the practice ring. "What's his name, again?"
"He calls himself Harry of the Caves," Merlin answered, fitting Arthur's breastplate-strap under his right arm.
"I didn't realise caves were kingdoms now," Arthur remarked. "Still, he fights like royalty. Merlin, that's too tight."
"Sorry, sorry," Merlin said, loosening the strap. "You don't think he...looks sort of strange?"
Arthur turned back to the practice field, considering. Harry of the Caves was a tall, lean man, but somehow out of proportion -- slim-legged but with thickly muscled thighs, and his shoulders were too broad, arms too heavily built for his small wrists and delicate hands. He had a long neck and tended to lead with his head, which itself was strange -- thin and pointed, with a narrow nose and close-set eyes. His short hair was prematurely grey, and stood up in untidy spikes all over his head.
"Well, you know the country kingdoms," Arthur said.
"What do you mean?" Merlin asked.
"You know, they..." Arthur gestured.
"Nope, not following, sorry."
"They tend to marry their own cousins a lot," Arthur said.
"Ohh," Merlin replied. "Eugh."
Merlin watched this new knight carefully, after that, because he was obviously a contender and Merlin should be able to advise Arthur in how to fight him. Harry won every battle the first day, and even Merlin couldn't spot any particular weaknesses, unless it was a tendency to lean forward on the balls of his feet, head thrust out, like he was used to a counterweight on his back. Perhaps some kind of heavy armour?
When the fighting was done for the day, with the final champions to be decided tomorrow, Merlin crept away from Arthur's pavilion. He only meant to see if this new knight with no squire needed any assistance, but the clank of chain mail told him the knight was handling it himself. Merlin peered through a gap in the cloth of his pavilion, breath soft, very still.
He saw this Harry unbuckle his belt and stiffly ease his tunic over his head. He wore padding under the tunic, and he shrugged that off as well, unbuckling the straps that held it in place. That gone, he stretched, and the muscles in his back rippled. Merlin stared. Tattooed on the man's back were a pair of bony wings, running from his shoulder down under his trousers; they looked like they'd extend all the way to his thighs.
And, when the knight let out a long, growling sigh of relief, they glowed.
Which was when it all came together, and Merlin stepped into the pavilion, crossing his arms.
"Kilgarrah," he said, and the knight turned. His eyes were glowing too.
"Young warlock," Kilgarrah replied. He arched his neck a little. "I was wondering how long it would take you."
"What are you doing here?" Merlin hissed. "How did you even -- "
"You're not well-read on the company you keep," Kilgarrah replied, tipping his head from side to side, neck cracking loudly. "Dragons have many powers mortal men may not understand."
"Do you want to get yourself chained up again?" Merlin asked. "You can't just stroll into Camelot!"
"Well, I did," Kilgarrah replied. "These human bodies are very frail, but they do the job, I suppose."
"If Uther finds out -- "
"Who's going to tell him? You? Come, Merlin," Kilgarrah said, and the condescension in his voice was at least twice as annoying coming from a human mouth as it had been coming from a dragon's. "Don't be angry. Uther will never know."
"If you've come to kill him, I'll stop you," Merlin warned.
"I fail to see why you continue to remain loyal to a man who would have you killed without a second thought," Kilgarrah said. "But I'm not here to kill your precious Uther. His teeth have already been pulled, I think."
"Then why?" Merlin demanded.
Kilgarrah laughed, the same low, snorting laugh he'd had as a dragon. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked, stepping forward until he and Merlin were barely inches apart. "I came to see you, young warlock."
Merlin stared, dumbfounded. "Me."
"Why shouldn't I come to see you, if it pleases me? Besides, it has been too long since I walked on human legs."
"You're making a bad job of it," Merlin told him.
"Am I, now?" Kilgarrah said, and touched Merlin's jaw with a single finger, running it down his throat. He could feel the threat of claws under the warm pad of Kilgarrah's fingertip. "Perhaps I need lessons."
Merlin swallowed against his touch. Kilgarrah's smile was full of slightly-too-sharp teeth.
"Mind you, I'll win the tournament," he said, stepping back and letting his hand fall. "Which reminds me, I shall need a good-luck charm."
"Not the way you fight," Merlin said, and then wanted to slap a hand to his forehead. Kilgarrah turned away to pick up his sword, but he cast another sharp smile over his shoulder.
"May I have a kiss?" Kilgarrah asked, turning back to him.
"I don't think it's right," Merlin said. "Kissing a dragon and all. That can't be hygienic. Who knows where you've been?"
"Just one, for luck," Kilgarrah insisted, in that convincing tone he always used when he was forcing Merlin to a decision he didn't want to make. "Come, you can afford a warrior such a small token. Or are you saving yours for Arthur? Or maybe pretty Gwai -- "
Merlin, stung, leaned forward and planted a kiss on Kilgarrah's lips before he could finish. For once, he had the pleasure of seeing the dragon shocked; when he leaned back, Kilgarrah's eyes flew wide, and he touched his hand to his lips.
"Human bodies are so strange," he said. "Well, will you wish me luck on the morrow?"
"Good luck," Merlin said stiffly.
"Thank you. I promise not to humiliate your future king," Kilgarrah said with a smile. "You may go."
Merlin narrowed his eyes. "That's all you wanted?"
"Indeed. Sometimes it is good to remember human weakness," Kilgarrah said. He dipped a hand in a bucket of water nearby and brought some to his lips, sipping calmly from his cupped palm. "I will see you tomorrow, young warlock."
Merlin turned on his heel, confused, and half-ran all the way back to the Citadel proper.
"Any new information on that new knight, Harry whats-his-face?" Arthur asked, over dinner. Merlin poured him out some wine and shook his head.
"Seems pretty ordinary to me," he said. "I'm sure you'll beat him."
"Let's hope so," Arthur answered, grinning up at him. "What's he like?"
"Bit arrogant," Merlin said thoughtfully. "He seems...I dunno. Lonely."
Arthur laughed. "Lonely, eh? Well, I hope he finds someone in Camelot to catch his fancy. Perhaps tomorrow, after the tourney."
"Me too," Merlin murmured. "I suppose we'll see."
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Merlin doesn't trust this new tournament knight at all. He probably has good reason.
BETA CREDIT, JESUS: It's like
girlpearl and misswinterhill are telepathically linked.Notes: Part of my "Under 1000" challenge. This clocks at around 1400, actually, but it's the spirit of the thing; I'm not going to go butchering a perfectly good story just to cram it into a thousand words. The goal is to get in a good writing headspace by setting a rule, not to apply the rule ruthlessly to what is already produced.
Also available at AO3.
***
Tournament time was always a brilliant time in Camelot. The innkeepers did a brisk business, as did the food-stall merchants and the trinket sellers. The women dressed gaily, the men strutted, and it seemed like the entire kingdom poured into the Citadel. Merlin enjoyed tournaments, when nobody was trying to magic anyone else to death. Above all else, it meant he got to watch Arthur fight, and there was nothing in the world like watching Arthur fight.
The servants of both the Citadel knights and the newcomers scurried and ran, never resting; Merlin ran among them, watching the knights fight and advising Arthur of their weaknesses. All the servants did it; it was part of the game. The other knights would know that Arthur had taken an injury in his left thigh, long healed now, but the nerves had been damaged by poison and from hip to knee the outside of his thigh would not feel a cut or a blow. Merlin, in turn, knew that this warrior favoured his left shoulder, or that one his ribs.
There was something off about one of the new men, though.
"He has a good build on him," Arthur said, watching two knights in the practice ring. "What's his name, again?"
"He calls himself Harry of the Caves," Merlin answered, fitting Arthur's breastplate-strap under his right arm.
"I didn't realise caves were kingdoms now," Arthur remarked. "Still, he fights like royalty. Merlin, that's too tight."
"Sorry, sorry," Merlin said, loosening the strap. "You don't think he...looks sort of strange?"
Arthur turned back to the practice field, considering. Harry of the Caves was a tall, lean man, but somehow out of proportion -- slim-legged but with thickly muscled thighs, and his shoulders were too broad, arms too heavily built for his small wrists and delicate hands. He had a long neck and tended to lead with his head, which itself was strange -- thin and pointed, with a narrow nose and close-set eyes. His short hair was prematurely grey, and stood up in untidy spikes all over his head.
"Well, you know the country kingdoms," Arthur said.
"What do you mean?" Merlin asked.
"You know, they..." Arthur gestured.
"Nope, not following, sorry."
"They tend to marry their own cousins a lot," Arthur said.
"Ohh," Merlin replied. "Eugh."
Merlin watched this new knight carefully, after that, because he was obviously a contender and Merlin should be able to advise Arthur in how to fight him. Harry won every battle the first day, and even Merlin couldn't spot any particular weaknesses, unless it was a tendency to lean forward on the balls of his feet, head thrust out, like he was used to a counterweight on his back. Perhaps some kind of heavy armour?
When the fighting was done for the day, with the final champions to be decided tomorrow, Merlin crept away from Arthur's pavilion. He only meant to see if this new knight with no squire needed any assistance, but the clank of chain mail told him the knight was handling it himself. Merlin peered through a gap in the cloth of his pavilion, breath soft, very still.
He saw this Harry unbuckle his belt and stiffly ease his tunic over his head. He wore padding under the tunic, and he shrugged that off as well, unbuckling the straps that held it in place. That gone, he stretched, and the muscles in his back rippled. Merlin stared. Tattooed on the man's back were a pair of bony wings, running from his shoulder down under his trousers; they looked like they'd extend all the way to his thighs.
And, when the knight let out a long, growling sigh of relief, they glowed.
Which was when it all came together, and Merlin stepped into the pavilion, crossing his arms.
"Kilgarrah," he said, and the knight turned. His eyes were glowing too.
"Young warlock," Kilgarrah replied. He arched his neck a little. "I was wondering how long it would take you."
"What are you doing here?" Merlin hissed. "How did you even -- "
"You're not well-read on the company you keep," Kilgarrah replied, tipping his head from side to side, neck cracking loudly. "Dragons have many powers mortal men may not understand."
"Do you want to get yourself chained up again?" Merlin asked. "You can't just stroll into Camelot!"
"Well, I did," Kilgarrah replied. "These human bodies are very frail, but they do the job, I suppose."
"If Uther finds out -- "
"Who's going to tell him? You? Come, Merlin," Kilgarrah said, and the condescension in his voice was at least twice as annoying coming from a human mouth as it had been coming from a dragon's. "Don't be angry. Uther will never know."
"If you've come to kill him, I'll stop you," Merlin warned.
"I fail to see why you continue to remain loyal to a man who would have you killed without a second thought," Kilgarrah said. "But I'm not here to kill your precious Uther. His teeth have already been pulled, I think."
"Then why?" Merlin demanded.
Kilgarrah laughed, the same low, snorting laugh he'd had as a dragon. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked, stepping forward until he and Merlin were barely inches apart. "I came to see you, young warlock."
Merlin stared, dumbfounded. "Me."
"Why shouldn't I come to see you, if it pleases me? Besides, it has been too long since I walked on human legs."
"You're making a bad job of it," Merlin told him.
"Am I, now?" Kilgarrah said, and touched Merlin's jaw with a single finger, running it down his throat. He could feel the threat of claws under the warm pad of Kilgarrah's fingertip. "Perhaps I need lessons."
Merlin swallowed against his touch. Kilgarrah's smile was full of slightly-too-sharp teeth.
"Mind you, I'll win the tournament," he said, stepping back and letting his hand fall. "Which reminds me, I shall need a good-luck charm."
"Not the way you fight," Merlin said, and then wanted to slap a hand to his forehead. Kilgarrah turned away to pick up his sword, but he cast another sharp smile over his shoulder.
"May I have a kiss?" Kilgarrah asked, turning back to him.
"I don't think it's right," Merlin said. "Kissing a dragon and all. That can't be hygienic. Who knows where you've been?"
"Just one, for luck," Kilgarrah insisted, in that convincing tone he always used when he was forcing Merlin to a decision he didn't want to make. "Come, you can afford a warrior such a small token. Or are you saving yours for Arthur? Or maybe pretty Gwai -- "
Merlin, stung, leaned forward and planted a kiss on Kilgarrah's lips before he could finish. For once, he had the pleasure of seeing the dragon shocked; when he leaned back, Kilgarrah's eyes flew wide, and he touched his hand to his lips.
"Human bodies are so strange," he said. "Well, will you wish me luck on the morrow?"
"Good luck," Merlin said stiffly.
"Thank you. I promise not to humiliate your future king," Kilgarrah said with a smile. "You may go."
Merlin narrowed his eyes. "That's all you wanted?"
"Indeed. Sometimes it is good to remember human weakness," Kilgarrah said. He dipped a hand in a bucket of water nearby and brought some to his lips, sipping calmly from his cupped palm. "I will see you tomorrow, young warlock."
Merlin turned on his heel, confused, and half-ran all the way back to the Citadel proper.
"Any new information on that new knight, Harry whats-his-face?" Arthur asked, over dinner. Merlin poured him out some wine and shook his head.
"Seems pretty ordinary to me," he said. "I'm sure you'll beat him."
"Let's hope so," Arthur answered, grinning up at him. "What's he like?"
"Bit arrogant," Merlin said thoughtfully. "He seems...I dunno. Lonely."
Arthur laughed. "Lonely, eh? Well, I hope he finds someone in Camelot to catch his fancy. Perhaps tomorrow, after the tourney."
"Me too," Merlin murmured. "I suppose we'll see."
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The dragon. You took the bloody dragon and made Merlin give him a kiss. How. HOW. <3 And it WORKED. What. How. Brilliant.
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The fic is... polarizing; people seem to either love it or hate it. I for one adore it, because it hits just about every single storytelling kink I have and then some. The worldbuilding and the OCs are some of the best I have encountered anywhere. It's long, though- 427,258 words and counting. Update schedule is, at present, a new chapter every three weeks.
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AND:
a) Glad you liked the fanfic!
b) I totally did not even notice you said "humans in dragon form" :D
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I giggled several times. I love the fact that Merlin can see that even a dragon that pesters him into a kiss is lonely.
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i dont even watch this show and I want more more more. :D
Lonely arrogant dragons courting young mages. this hits every fantasy geek kink I have.
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LOL that's a great way to put it :D
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Yeah, my merlin stuff is a bit hidden, I guess :D