![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
casualtheatrics2Just a little fill I wrote the other day whilst wrestling with my WIPs. *headdesk*
Title: Pyre
Rating: 12A (UK), PG-13 (US)
Word Count: ~600 words
Summary: Merlin burns for being a sorcerer.
Warnings: violence, execution by fire and major character death.
Notes: Written for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kinkme_merlin
The guards haul Merlin from the dungeons still in chains. As they march him across the courtyard, he stumbles and trips, and they drag him on his knees for a few steps before he regains his feet.
The pyre in the midday sun looks black in Merlin’s vision. He closes his eyes as they pull him up to the platform and unchain him. His wrists are raw and he feels the skin split when the rough hemp rope is wrapped around his wrists, and then tightly around the central pole.
The blood drips off the ends of his fingers, and he hears it splash on the wooden floor below him. The executioner slams Merlin’s head back into the pole, to display his face for the waiting crowd.
Uther’s voice cuts through the still like a blade through flesh. “Merlin of Ealdor, you are found guilty of the crime of sorcery.”
There is a pause, and then Arthur’s voice, steady and deadly, continues.
“According to the laws of Camelot, the punishment for this is death by fire. You are hereby sentenced to death. Let this serve as a warning to you all.”
Merlin opens his eyes and meets Arthur’s cold, unmoving gaze. The Crown Prince does not look away, and it is Merlin who breaks the hold, when he hears a tiny voice in the crowd cry, “But I like Merlin, Mummy!” He spots the tiny girl who always throws rotten tomatoes at him when he’s in the stocks, and smiles at her reassuringly. He notices the grey moss at the edges of the platform, packed tightly into all the crevices.
Uther roars, “You dare to smile, sorcerer? Light it!” He addresses this last to the executioner, who releases the fistful of Merlin’s hair that he has, and jumps down to the lit torch.
“Any last words?” the executioner sneers, scooping up the torch in his meaty hand.
Merlin takes a deep breath. “It has been an honour,” he calls to Arthur, “to serve you, sire.”
The executioner brings the torch down and lights the pyre. The wood is dry, too dry, and it is ablaze within seconds.
Merlin meets Arthur’s gaze for a final time. He would do nothing differently. He will take this punishment and know that now, Arthur will become the Once and Future King with nothing to impede his way. Uther will be dead by nightfall. Merlin has made sure of that.
He slides into unconsciousness as the smoke from the moss reaches him. Somnus Moss, he realises, and his last thoughts are of Gaius, wondering if the old man Merlin thinks of as a father spent Merlin’s last night packing the moss into the pyre in the dead of night, to ease Merlin’s fiery path from this world. He is grateful.
*
Arthur watches Holden, the executioner, bring the torch down and light the pyre. He flexes his fingers, which are stiff from a night in the cold, altering the pyre so that Merlin will feel nothing when fire comes for his flesh.
Uther is caught up in the victory and pleasure of watching a sorcerer burn, a sorcerer who had infiltrated the royal household no less. He does not notice the solitary tear that winds down Arthur’s cheek and drops to the balcony’s rail.
Arthur forces himself to watch Merlin burn. Once the crowd clears, some hours later, a second tear joins the first.
Title: Pyre
Rating: 12A (UK), PG-13 (US)
Word Count: ~600 words
Summary: Merlin burns for being a sorcerer.
Warnings: violence, execution by fire and major character death.
Notes: Written for this prompt at
kinkme_merlin The guards haul Merlin from the dungeons still in chains. As they march him across the courtyard, he stumbles and trips, and they drag him on his knees for a few steps before he regains his feet.
The pyre in the midday sun looks black in Merlin’s vision. He closes his eyes as they pull him up to the platform and unchain him. His wrists are raw and he feels the skin split when the rough hemp rope is wrapped around his wrists, and then tightly around the central pole.
The blood drips off the ends of his fingers, and he hears it splash on the wooden floor below him. The executioner slams Merlin’s head back into the pole, to display his face for the waiting crowd.
Uther’s voice cuts through the still like a blade through flesh. “Merlin of Ealdor, you are found guilty of the crime of sorcery.”
There is a pause, and then Arthur’s voice, steady and deadly, continues.
“According to the laws of Camelot, the punishment for this is death by fire. You are hereby sentenced to death. Let this serve as a warning to you all.”
Merlin opens his eyes and meets Arthur’s cold, unmoving gaze. The Crown Prince does not look away, and it is Merlin who breaks the hold, when he hears a tiny voice in the crowd cry, “But I like Merlin, Mummy!” He spots the tiny girl who always throws rotten tomatoes at him when he’s in the stocks, and smiles at her reassuringly. He notices the grey moss at the edges of the platform, packed tightly into all the crevices.
Uther roars, “You dare to smile, sorcerer? Light it!” He addresses this last to the executioner, who releases the fistful of Merlin’s hair that he has, and jumps down to the lit torch.
“Any last words?” the executioner sneers, scooping up the torch in his meaty hand.
Merlin takes a deep breath. “It has been an honour,” he calls to Arthur, “to serve you, sire.”
The executioner brings the torch down and lights the pyre. The wood is dry, too dry, and it is ablaze within seconds.
Merlin meets Arthur’s gaze for a final time. He would do nothing differently. He will take this punishment and know that now, Arthur will become the Once and Future King with nothing to impede his way. Uther will be dead by nightfall. Merlin has made sure of that.
He slides into unconsciousness as the smoke from the moss reaches him. Somnus Moss, he realises, and his last thoughts are of Gaius, wondering if the old man Merlin thinks of as a father spent Merlin’s last night packing the moss into the pyre in the dead of night, to ease Merlin’s fiery path from this world. He is grateful.
*
Arthur watches Holden, the executioner, bring the torch down and light the pyre. He flexes his fingers, which are stiff from a night in the cold, altering the pyre so that Merlin will feel nothing when fire comes for his flesh.
Uther is caught up in the victory and pleasure of watching a sorcerer burn, a sorcerer who had infiltrated the royal household no less. He does not notice the solitary tear that winds down Arthur’s cheek and drops to the balcony’s rail.
Arthur forces himself to watch Merlin burn. Once the crowd clears, some hours later, a second tear joins the first.
