commentfic repost: The Freedom to Kneel
Nov. 16th, 2011 11:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesTitle: The Freedom to Kneel
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Canon future-fic, the treaties are made and Camelot's gates are open to magic users from right across Albion. Receiving their loyalty doesn't go quite the way anyone expects.
Notes: So![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tourdefierce said "PEOPLE SHOULD BOW TO MERLIN" and I said "WELL OKAY THEN." And this happened.
Disclaimer: Soooo not mine.
Word Count: 1600
It has taken some doing, long meetings with secret ambassadors that drag on night after night until Arthur wants to claw at his own face just to relieve the boredom. But it's happening. Camelot's gates are open. Druids, sorcerers, and all other kinds of hidden folk are pouring in from all corners of all the kingdoms. Next to Arthur, Merlin is practically vibrating with anxiety as the people start filtering through into the hall. No matter what agreements have been hashed out in the interminable treaties, there are enough people here with old grudges, against Camelot and against each other, to make trouble a possibility.
But it doesn't feel that way. It feels like something momentous, a day that will go down in history as the start of something. Arthur grins at Merlin, who just twists his mouth in that shut-up-we're-not-there-yet way of his.
The first to enter the hall is a party of druids from the western woods, and the woman who speaks for them bows to Arthur like a seasoned warrior. He inclines his head to her and starts to offer the greeting Merlin had drilled into him (I welcome you, Laendra of the western woods, and give your people all liberty and sanctuary) when something else captures his attention. Laendra's followers, men, women and children alike, are making their bows too. To Merlin.
It is unexpected, but it is perfect. Merlin looks supremely uncomfortable until he catches Arthur's pointed glare and then he just looks slightly addled. Better than nothing, Arthur supposes fondly. Merlin makes an attempt at a gracious response and Arthur smothers a smile.
It goes like that with every party. The leader makes their alliance to Arthur known, but the people... Arthur is good at reading people, the swelling, complicated mass of them maybe even more so than individuals, and he can tell that these people love Merlin. Merlin is a symbol of all they hold dear. Merlin.
Some of the visitors have pretty words about the time the legends speak of and an age of peace, many more only say Emrys, as though that's all the praise anyone could ever need. Still others just go to their knees, like their strings have been cut, like Merlin's something miraculous.
After the last of them – a young druid boy who looks at Merlin like he rose the mountains and pinned the sun to the sky – has bowed to him, Gaius steps forward. Old bones won't allow him the luxury of a full bow, but even Arthur doesn't get a full bow these days. Merlin looks like he might actually cry for a second, but then he's too busy fighting a smile because Arthur's knights step forward next.
Gwaine's first of course, because he never can resist the chance to make some kind of low-key trouble that Arthur can't really object to. But that's not fair, not really. When Gwaine goes to one knee and bows his head, swearing words of loyalty that Arthur can't quite hear, he probably means it more than anyone.
Almost anyone.
Arthur watches Merlin gifted with the loyalty and fealty of one good person after another, and it feels right. He feels as though it paints Merlin in shades of gold, no matter that he looks half-honoured, half-terrified. He is perfect.
After all the visitors have left, shown off to their various quarters, Merlin sags and says, "Ugh. That was – "
"Better than we expected," Arthur says. "No assassination attempts, no inter-druid grudges rearing their heads..."
"People bowed to me," Merlin says, horrified.
"Yes, they did," Arthur says smugly.
Merlin lurches away, pausing only to punch Gwaine on the arm as he passes. Gwaine sweeps another, more theatrical bow and Merlin's answering brush of magic knocks him onto his arse with an indignant hey!, much to Percival and Leon's amusement. Even Gwen's failing to hide a smile as Arthur follows Merlin from the hall.
"Where are you going?" he calls, when Merlin doesn't slow down.
"Going to drink as much mead as physically possible before the feast in case anyone tries to bow at me again."
He's not though. He's going to Arthur's chambers, which suits Arthur just fine so he just hurries a little to catch up with Merlin and falls into step alongside him.
"I could bloody well kill Gwaine," Merlin mutters.
"No you couldn't," Arthur tells him confidently. "Anyway, they've always been just as loyal to you as to me, you know that. What does it matter if anyone else knows it?"
Merlin scoffs, like he thinks Arthur is utterly ridiculous. He tries to lengthen his stride but Arthur matches him easily, ignoring Merlin's gritted teeth.
"Why does it bother you?" Arthur asks when he's pushed the door shut behind them.
Merlin frowns. "People shouldn't bow to me."
"They really should, you know. Why don't you want them to?
"Because I don't want anyone thinking I'm some magical trickster power-behind-the-throne nonsense. Because you're the king. You're my king."
Arthur thinks about that for a moment, dismisses it.
"And you are the heart of my kingdom."
"Arthur."
Merlin lifts his hands like he's going to tug at his hair but Arthur catches his wrists and pulls them down.
"I mean it," Arthur says. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to go to one knee in front of Merlin, to keep hold of his hands. It even feels natural to press his forehead to the back of Merlin's hands and ask, "Where would I be without you, Merlin?"
"Arthur." Merlin sounds pained. "Stop it, come on – "
Arthur knows every oath of fealty in the books of Camelot's laws. He should say something about his sword, his word, his reputation or his life, but the only words that stumble out of his mouth are,
"You have me. You – Merlin, you have me."
Arthur looks up through his lashes at Merlin whose face has crumpled, a smile warring with something that could almost be abject misery. Arthur goes abruptly to both knees and walks forward on them a little. He presses his forehead to Merlin's lean stomach and says it again.
"Where would I be without you."
Merlin's hand settles on his hair, his fingers shaking. "You are so ridiculous."
"I mean every word," Arthur assures him.
Merlin sort-of laughs. "That's what's so ridiculous."
Arthur noses at the dip of Merlin's stomach, savouring the warmth. His arms lock around Merlin's thighs, and Merlin softens in his hold, curling into Arthur just a little. Arthur's nuzzle turns into a kiss, hot and open mouthed through Merlin's shirt and Merlin laughs, stroking his fingers through the hair at Arthur's temples.
"You – Arthur you're so – "
Loyal, Arthur thinks. Loyal and true.
Arthur moves lower, rubs his cheek against the shape of Merlin's cock, urging it to harden. Merlin makes a sort of gurgling noise and Arthur smiles. Ridiculous man. Arthur kisses him, numbs his tongue on the rasp of Merlin's breeches.
"Really?" Merlin mutters distractedly. "Now I have to change."
"You can wear something of mine," Arthur tells him, sucking Merlin through his breeches, wetting the material even more. "I think I'd like that."
Merlin hums, amused apparently, and Arthur squeezes his thighs tighter. "Take your prick out," he tells Merlin. "Let me see it."
"God, I love you, you lunatic."
Arthur laughs, mouthing and lipping at Merlin's fingers as he undoes the laces on his breeches. Merlin pauses with them half-undone and stifles Arthur's protest with two fingers pushed into his mouth. Arthur sucks on them for a moment but he's too impatient, moving to bite at Merlin's laces instead, tugging them with his teeth to make his point. Merlin laughs and touches his mouth again briefly before undoing his breeches, shoving his clothes haphazardly downwards. Only the reddening head of his cock is visible at first and Arthur licks at it straight away, rubbing his tongue over the slit.
Merlin swears and shoves his breeches down further, far enough for Arthur to suck him in, messy noise and all, getting the first taste of a trickle of precome to burst onto his tongue, making him moan for it, for more. It doesn't take long, but then Arthur doesn't want it to, not this time. He's drawn it out in the past before, just for the sake of it, until Merlin's all but sobbing, Arthur on his knees, but Merlin the one begging. So yes, Arthur has knelt before, for his friend, his lover, but it's never been quite like this.
He's never knelt for the high sorcerer of Camelot before, and like so many others today he just wants to kneel. Just wants to serve. Because Merlin is so very worthy of it. Arthur works fast, taking Merlin in deep and sloppy. He loves every single bit of this, from the soft way Merlin swears and touches Arthur's hair, to the way it makes his eyes water if he moves in that right-wrong-right way. Merlin's hard enough for Arthur to choke himself on and he does a couple of times until Merlin well and truly loses his head, shaking in the tight grip Arthur has on his thighs, his body curling around Arthur's as he comes.
Arthur jerks Merlin through it, right into his mouth, not wanting to waste a drop, and he finally registers words inside the mangled noises coming from Merlin's mouth (Arthur, Arthur, sire, oh fuck, my king, my king, I love you). Afterwards Merlin tries to pull Arthur to his feet but Arthur resists, stays on his knees at Merlin's feet and jerks himself until he comes, Merlin's fingers brushing his hair back from his eyes, relearning the feel of his face all over again.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Canon future-fic, the treaties are made and Camelot's gates are open to magic users from right across Albion. Receiving their loyalty doesn't go quite the way anyone expects.
Notes: So
tourdefierce said "PEOPLE SHOULD BOW TO MERLIN" and I said "WELL OKAY THEN." And this happened.Disclaimer: Soooo not mine.
Word Count: 1600
It has taken some doing, long meetings with secret ambassadors that drag on night after night until Arthur wants to claw at his own face just to relieve the boredom. But it's happening. Camelot's gates are open. Druids, sorcerers, and all other kinds of hidden folk are pouring in from all corners of all the kingdoms. Next to Arthur, Merlin is practically vibrating with anxiety as the people start filtering through into the hall. No matter what agreements have been hashed out in the interminable treaties, there are enough people here with old grudges, against Camelot and against each other, to make trouble a possibility.
But it doesn't feel that way. It feels like something momentous, a day that will go down in history as the start of something. Arthur grins at Merlin, who just twists his mouth in that shut-up-we're-not-there-yet way of his.
The first to enter the hall is a party of druids from the western woods, and the woman who speaks for them bows to Arthur like a seasoned warrior. He inclines his head to her and starts to offer the greeting Merlin had drilled into him (I welcome you, Laendra of the western woods, and give your people all liberty and sanctuary) when something else captures his attention. Laendra's followers, men, women and children alike, are making their bows too. To Merlin.
It is unexpected, but it is perfect. Merlin looks supremely uncomfortable until he catches Arthur's pointed glare and then he just looks slightly addled. Better than nothing, Arthur supposes fondly. Merlin makes an attempt at a gracious response and Arthur smothers a smile.
It goes like that with every party. The leader makes their alliance to Arthur known, but the people... Arthur is good at reading people, the swelling, complicated mass of them maybe even more so than individuals, and he can tell that these people love Merlin. Merlin is a symbol of all they hold dear. Merlin.
Some of the visitors have pretty words about the time the legends speak of and an age of peace, many more only say Emrys, as though that's all the praise anyone could ever need. Still others just go to their knees, like their strings have been cut, like Merlin's something miraculous.
After the last of them – a young druid boy who looks at Merlin like he rose the mountains and pinned the sun to the sky – has bowed to him, Gaius steps forward. Old bones won't allow him the luxury of a full bow, but even Arthur doesn't get a full bow these days. Merlin looks like he might actually cry for a second, but then he's too busy fighting a smile because Arthur's knights step forward next.
Gwaine's first of course, because he never can resist the chance to make some kind of low-key trouble that Arthur can't really object to. But that's not fair, not really. When Gwaine goes to one knee and bows his head, swearing words of loyalty that Arthur can't quite hear, he probably means it more than anyone.
Almost anyone.
Arthur watches Merlin gifted with the loyalty and fealty of one good person after another, and it feels right. He feels as though it paints Merlin in shades of gold, no matter that he looks half-honoured, half-terrified. He is perfect.
After all the visitors have left, shown off to their various quarters, Merlin sags and says, "Ugh. That was – "
"Better than we expected," Arthur says. "No assassination attempts, no inter-druid grudges rearing their heads..."
"People bowed to me," Merlin says, horrified.
"Yes, they did," Arthur says smugly.
Merlin lurches away, pausing only to punch Gwaine on the arm as he passes. Gwaine sweeps another, more theatrical bow and Merlin's answering brush of magic knocks him onto his arse with an indignant hey!, much to Percival and Leon's amusement. Even Gwen's failing to hide a smile as Arthur follows Merlin from the hall.
"Where are you going?" he calls, when Merlin doesn't slow down.
"Going to drink as much mead as physically possible before the feast in case anyone tries to bow at me again."
He's not though. He's going to Arthur's chambers, which suits Arthur just fine so he just hurries a little to catch up with Merlin and falls into step alongside him.
"I could bloody well kill Gwaine," Merlin mutters.
"No you couldn't," Arthur tells him confidently. "Anyway, they've always been just as loyal to you as to me, you know that. What does it matter if anyone else knows it?"
Merlin scoffs, like he thinks Arthur is utterly ridiculous. He tries to lengthen his stride but Arthur matches him easily, ignoring Merlin's gritted teeth.
"Why does it bother you?" Arthur asks when he's pushed the door shut behind them.
Merlin frowns. "People shouldn't bow to me."
"They really should, you know. Why don't you want them to?
"Because I don't want anyone thinking I'm some magical trickster power-behind-the-throne nonsense. Because you're the king. You're my king."
Arthur thinks about that for a moment, dismisses it.
"And you are the heart of my kingdom."
"Arthur."
Merlin lifts his hands like he's going to tug at his hair but Arthur catches his wrists and pulls them down.
"I mean it," Arthur says. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to go to one knee in front of Merlin, to keep hold of his hands. It even feels natural to press his forehead to the back of Merlin's hands and ask, "Where would I be without you, Merlin?"
"Arthur." Merlin sounds pained. "Stop it, come on – "
Arthur knows every oath of fealty in the books of Camelot's laws. He should say something about his sword, his word, his reputation or his life, but the only words that stumble out of his mouth are,
"You have me. You – Merlin, you have me."
Arthur looks up through his lashes at Merlin whose face has crumpled, a smile warring with something that could almost be abject misery. Arthur goes abruptly to both knees and walks forward on them a little. He presses his forehead to Merlin's lean stomach and says it again.
"Where would I be without you."
Merlin's hand settles on his hair, his fingers shaking. "You are so ridiculous."
"I mean every word," Arthur assures him.
Merlin sort-of laughs. "That's what's so ridiculous."
Arthur noses at the dip of Merlin's stomach, savouring the warmth. His arms lock around Merlin's thighs, and Merlin softens in his hold, curling into Arthur just a little. Arthur's nuzzle turns into a kiss, hot and open mouthed through Merlin's shirt and Merlin laughs, stroking his fingers through the hair at Arthur's temples.
"You – Arthur you're so – "
Loyal, Arthur thinks. Loyal and true.
Arthur moves lower, rubs his cheek against the shape of Merlin's cock, urging it to harden. Merlin makes a sort of gurgling noise and Arthur smiles. Ridiculous man. Arthur kisses him, numbs his tongue on the rasp of Merlin's breeches.
"Really?" Merlin mutters distractedly. "Now I have to change."
"You can wear something of mine," Arthur tells him, sucking Merlin through his breeches, wetting the material even more. "I think I'd like that."
Merlin hums, amused apparently, and Arthur squeezes his thighs tighter. "Take your prick out," he tells Merlin. "Let me see it."
"God, I love you, you lunatic."
Arthur laughs, mouthing and lipping at Merlin's fingers as he undoes the laces on his breeches. Merlin pauses with them half-undone and stifles Arthur's protest with two fingers pushed into his mouth. Arthur sucks on them for a moment but he's too impatient, moving to bite at Merlin's laces instead, tugging them with his teeth to make his point. Merlin laughs and touches his mouth again briefly before undoing his breeches, shoving his clothes haphazardly downwards. Only the reddening head of his cock is visible at first and Arthur licks at it straight away, rubbing his tongue over the slit.
Merlin swears and shoves his breeches down further, far enough for Arthur to suck him in, messy noise and all, getting the first taste of a trickle of precome to burst onto his tongue, making him moan for it, for more. It doesn't take long, but then Arthur doesn't want it to, not this time. He's drawn it out in the past before, just for the sake of it, until Merlin's all but sobbing, Arthur on his knees, but Merlin the one begging. So yes, Arthur has knelt before, for his friend, his lover, but it's never been quite like this.
He's never knelt for the high sorcerer of Camelot before, and like so many others today he just wants to kneel. Just wants to serve. Because Merlin is so very worthy of it. Arthur works fast, taking Merlin in deep and sloppy. He loves every single bit of this, from the soft way Merlin swears and touches Arthur's hair, to the way it makes his eyes water if he moves in that right-wrong-right way. Merlin's hard enough for Arthur to choke himself on and he does a couple of times until Merlin well and truly loses his head, shaking in the tight grip Arthur has on his thighs, his body curling around Arthur's as he comes.
Arthur jerks Merlin through it, right into his mouth, not wanting to waste a drop, and he finally registers words inside the mangled noises coming from Merlin's mouth (Arthur, Arthur, sire, oh fuck, my king, my king, I love you). Afterwards Merlin tries to pull Arthur to his feet but Arthur resists, stays on his knees at Merlin's feet and jerks himself until he comes, Merlin's fingers brushing his hair back from his eyes, relearning the feel of his face all over again.