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Author:
kleinefee92
Title: Monster
Rating: PG
Pairing: N/A
Characters: Merlin
Summary: Merlin thinks about what he has become in the years since discovering his so-called destiny.
Word Count: 612
Prompt:Scars
Author's Notes: There are quotes from several episodes, which will be cited at the end.
Monster
Merlin has never been vain. Life in a little village like Ealdor would never have allowed it - the only time the people of his village neared anything like a reflective surface large enough to reveal one’s visage was when they went to bathe down in the creek that ran through the surrounding verdancy.
It isn’t until he arrives in Camelot that he realizes there are some people who care more about the beauty of their appearance than the beauty of their hearts, their souls. He thinks of dear, ridiculous Arthur, who only worries over his looks when Guinevere is in evidence, and then he thinks of Morgana, until the past few years almost always dressed in enough finery that her clothes alone could feed a peasant family for a year, and the jewels woven through her hair, her baubles, her fabrics.
Until this moment, standing before the mirror in Morgana’s old room, he has never noticed some of that self-awareness seeping in, a silent, slow poison.
He did not come here for this - originally he came here to avoid being coerced into spending the evening in the tavern with the knights, his inclination for revelry curbed by Arthur’s poorly concealed look of disapproval. He will never be able to clear his name in regard to all those ‘nights in the tavern,’ unless he reveals his powers, an eventuality that fades faster and further by the day. He brought Arthur’s armor along, planning to take care of his chores for the next day in order to convince himself that he is not, in fact, hiding, but attempting to be productive instead. Then, his eyes were drawn to the smooth expanse of Morgana’s old vanity - and what an apt name that is. Driven by some unknown desire, he shed his tunic and stood in the pale light of stars innumerable and the half-moon, scars thrown in silvery relief.
Here, he took Nimue’s fury full on, the wheel of fire-raised flesh only slightly discolored so many years after the fact. Here, a serket pierced him while he knelt alone and friendless in the forest of Escetir. Here, he felt the chafe of manacles, held at Morgana’s mercy and by his own fear in her little hovel. He has no care to see it, but were he to locate another, smaller mirror, he might be able to see the mark she doomed him to bear when she set him against his friend and master unwilling.
These are not the worst of his scars, he knows. The deepest, the ugliest, are the ones the rest of the world will never see, the ones left behind by actions taken and deferred, by choices and chances, uncertain steps and sudden plunges.
“I’m not a monster, am I?”
“Don’t ever think that.”
He does now, though. How can he not?
“...if you had...you know...the choice, what would you do? If you had the power of life and death over Uther, would you kill him? For what he did?”
“Then she'll die with me. I don't want this any more than you, but you give me no choice. Stop the knights and you can save her.”
“I had to stop the future. I had to stop Morgana killing Uther. I didn't mean to do it like this.”
“How you've managed to deceive him. I am impressed, Merlin. Perhaps we're more alike than you think.”
In trying to preserve the future, the bright morning Kilgharrah promised would fall upon all of Albion with Arthur’s ascent to the throne, Merlin has become the very thing he once feared, his scars, both internal and external, an unholy map of his transgressions.
Episodes quoted: The Dragon’s Call, To Kill the King, The Fires of Idirsholas, The Crystal Cave, The Sword in the Stone: Part II
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Title: Monster
Rating: PG
Pairing: N/A
Characters: Merlin
Summary: Merlin thinks about what he has become in the years since discovering his so-called destiny.
Word Count: 612
Prompt:Scars
Author's Notes: There are quotes from several episodes, which will be cited at the end.
Monster
Merlin has never been vain. Life in a little village like Ealdor would never have allowed it - the only time the people of his village neared anything like a reflective surface large enough to reveal one’s visage was when they went to bathe down in the creek that ran through the surrounding verdancy.
It isn’t until he arrives in Camelot that he realizes there are some people who care more about the beauty of their appearance than the beauty of their hearts, their souls. He thinks of dear, ridiculous Arthur, who only worries over his looks when Guinevere is in evidence, and then he thinks of Morgana, until the past few years almost always dressed in enough finery that her clothes alone could feed a peasant family for a year, and the jewels woven through her hair, her baubles, her fabrics.
Until this moment, standing before the mirror in Morgana’s old room, he has never noticed some of that self-awareness seeping in, a silent, slow poison.
He did not come here for this - originally he came here to avoid being coerced into spending the evening in the tavern with the knights, his inclination for revelry curbed by Arthur’s poorly concealed look of disapproval. He will never be able to clear his name in regard to all those ‘nights in the tavern,’ unless he reveals his powers, an eventuality that fades faster and further by the day. He brought Arthur’s armor along, planning to take care of his chores for the next day in order to convince himself that he is not, in fact, hiding, but attempting to be productive instead. Then, his eyes were drawn to the smooth expanse of Morgana’s old vanity - and what an apt name that is. Driven by some unknown desire, he shed his tunic and stood in the pale light of stars innumerable and the half-moon, scars thrown in silvery relief.
Here, he took Nimue’s fury full on, the wheel of fire-raised flesh only slightly discolored so many years after the fact. Here, a serket pierced him while he knelt alone and friendless in the forest of Escetir. Here, he felt the chafe of manacles, held at Morgana’s mercy and by his own fear in her little hovel. He has no care to see it, but were he to locate another, smaller mirror, he might be able to see the mark she doomed him to bear when she set him against his friend and master unwilling.
These are not the worst of his scars, he knows. The deepest, the ugliest, are the ones the rest of the world will never see, the ones left behind by actions taken and deferred, by choices and chances, uncertain steps and sudden plunges.
“I’m not a monster, am I?”
“Don’t ever think that.”
He does now, though. How can he not?
“...if you had...you know...the choice, what would you do? If you had the power of life and death over Uther, would you kill him? For what he did?”
“Then she'll die with me. I don't want this any more than you, but you give me no choice. Stop the knights and you can save her.”
“I had to stop the future. I had to stop Morgana killing Uther. I didn't mean to do it like this.”
“How you've managed to deceive him. I am impressed, Merlin. Perhaps we're more alike than you think.”
In trying to preserve the future, the bright morning Kilgharrah promised would fall upon all of Albion with Arthur’s ascent to the throne, Merlin has become the very thing he once feared, his scars, both internal and external, an unholy map of his transgressions.
Episodes quoted: The Dragon’s Call, To Kill the King, The Fires of Idirsholas, The Crystal Cave, The Sword in the Stone: Part II
no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 02:10 pm (UTC)Then, his eyes were drawn to the smooth expanse of Morgana’s old vanity - and what an apt name that is.
Amazing line!
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Date: 2012-04-21 06:48 pm (UTC)*grins* I love taking every available opportunity to make digs at each of the characters, and that line was irresistible, so I'm glad you liked it.
Thanks, BB.
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Date: 2012-04-21 02:57 pm (UTC)♥ enough finery that her clothes alone could feed a peasant family for a year,Thank you I'm glad someone finally realized that
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Date: 2012-04-21 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 06:51 pm (UTC)Thanks, Liebling ♥
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Date: 2012-04-21 07:39 pm (UTC)You are welcome:D
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Date: 2012-04-21 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 06:54 pm (UTC)(Not that I ever want Colin to stop speaking his lines, but you know what I mean.)
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Date: 2012-04-21 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 06:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 06:57 pm (UTC)♥
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Date: 2012-04-21 06:48 pm (UTC)I like how this fic emphasizes the hard choices Merlin keeps having to make in secret, where there is no one to call him out if he goes too far.
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Date: 2012-04-21 07:01 pm (UTC)Thank you - I'm glad that concept came through, and that you enjoyed reading this.