In The Darkness Gold
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narlth
Title: In The Darkness Gold
Rating: PG -13
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Merlin, Uther
Summary: For Arthur to be king, Uther has to fall.
Warnings: Major Character Death
Word Count: 514
Prompt: #200 - Amnesty #2 ( #6 - Whispers in the Night)
Author's Notes: Unbeta’d
Shadows draped the hall, clinging to the floors and walls, obscuring everything beneath them, outside a tall windows the full moon sat high and bright, dropping strips of light into the room, that stood in opposing contrast to the darkness.
At the far end Uther stood, his sword drawn in preparation for an attack. The air felt heavy, oppressive, a warning that something was to happen. The king was alert, something in the room setting his instincts off, though he knew not what.
A the other end the figure seemed to melt out of the darkness, hair turned almost blue in the moonlight, while two eyes normally blue, sliding open to reveal themselves as a now piercing gold. He quickly recognised the boy as Arthur’s clumsy servant, and a flash of something cut into the king’s chest. He had put this sorcerer close too his son, who know’s what sort of damage he had been wrecking all this time.
Fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, Uther prepared to charged, only for the instant he shifted his weight for there to be the sudden sensation of hands all over his exposed skin, probing. He jerked back, eyes falling to his own hands, expecting to see something to explain what he was feeling, only for there to be nothing unusual.
Head snapping back up, angry words were on his lips, until he saw that, that servant had somehow managed to close half the distance between them without making a single sound, the words died before they could even begin to manifest. Anger boiled his blood, but the moment he went to make his move, the hands returned, this time stronger, more real.
“I demand you stop this!” The king snarled, spit flying from his lips.
Instead of answering, a smirk grew across Merlin’s face, it gave the servant a strange air of power. The hands which had merely been searching, outlining his form were now harsh, even abrasive, stopping him from moving
The glow of gold in Merlin’s eyes intensified, and Uther felt something brush against his ear, followed by an indecipherable whisper. The voice if it could be could as such, continued to hum low in the background, as Merlin stalked closer. Step by silent step, light and shadows curling around him as he went- distorting -until they stood a mere metre apart, and Uther for all his struggles could not get away.
Pale fingers reached out, ghosting along one cheek, before seizing his throat.
The hold had an unnatural strength, causing Uther’s breath to stutter, and darkness to creep in at the edges of his vision. The king wanted to scream, to shout, to rage, but all words had been chased from his mind, leaving behind the call consuming gold that flooded all his senses.
Somehow he knew he was falling, sword long lost, from slack fingers never to be returned.
The last thing he was fully aware of being the servant’s voice as it sliced through him, and the darkness that swallowed him.
“Goodnight, Sire.”
narlthTitle: In The Darkness Gold
Rating: PG -13
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Merlin, Uther
Summary: For Arthur to be king, Uther has to fall.
Warnings: Major Character Death
Word Count: 514
Prompt: #200 - Amnesty #2 ( #6 - Whispers in the Night)
Author's Notes: Unbeta’d
Shadows draped the hall, clinging to the floors and walls, obscuring everything beneath them, outside a tall windows the full moon sat high and bright, dropping strips of light into the room, that stood in opposing contrast to the darkness.
At the far end Uther stood, his sword drawn in preparation for an attack. The air felt heavy, oppressive, a warning that something was to happen. The king was alert, something in the room setting his instincts off, though he knew not what.
A the other end the figure seemed to melt out of the darkness, hair turned almost blue in the moonlight, while two eyes normally blue, sliding open to reveal themselves as a now piercing gold. He quickly recognised the boy as Arthur’s clumsy servant, and a flash of something cut into the king’s chest. He had put this sorcerer close too his son, who know’s what sort of damage he had been wrecking all this time.
Fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, Uther prepared to charged, only for the instant he shifted his weight for there to be the sudden sensation of hands all over his exposed skin, probing. He jerked back, eyes falling to his own hands, expecting to see something to explain what he was feeling, only for there to be nothing unusual.
Head snapping back up, angry words were on his lips, until he saw that, that servant had somehow managed to close half the distance between them without making a single sound, the words died before they could even begin to manifest. Anger boiled his blood, but the moment he went to make his move, the hands returned, this time stronger, more real.
“I demand you stop this!” The king snarled, spit flying from his lips.
Instead of answering, a smirk grew across Merlin’s face, it gave the servant a strange air of power. The hands which had merely been searching, outlining his form were now harsh, even abrasive, stopping him from moving
The glow of gold in Merlin’s eyes intensified, and Uther felt something brush against his ear, followed by an indecipherable whisper. The voice if it could be could as such, continued to hum low in the background, as Merlin stalked closer. Step by silent step, light and shadows curling around him as he went- distorting -until they stood a mere metre apart, and Uther for all his struggles could not get away.
Pale fingers reached out, ghosting along one cheek, before seizing his throat.
The hold had an unnatural strength, causing Uther’s breath to stutter, and darkness to creep in at the edges of his vision. The king wanted to scream, to shout, to rage, but all words had been chased from his mind, leaving behind the call consuming gold that flooded all his senses.
Somehow he knew he was falling, sword long lost, from slack fingers never to be returned.
The last thing he was fully aware of being the servant’s voice as it sliced through him, and the darkness that swallowed him.
“Goodnight, Sire.”
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