nyxelestia

Beta: arithilim

Notes:

~*~

Scarlet Pride

Merlin lowered his head after he killed the man before him, feeling nothing at this murder of mercy. No, he felt one thing, and one thing only – Arthur’s hand tightening under his own.

“Take his body down!” Someone yelled. It sounded like a child, Merlin couldn’t be sure.

Arthur shoved Merlin aside as he surged forward, along with a few guards who had a bucket of water ready, before Uther’s voice rang out, “A flogging to anyone who tries!”

For a moment, everyone froze.

Then Arthur moved again, continuing on his course, heaving the large water vessel up from the guards.

“Arthur!” Uther yelled in rage, as his son splashed the water strategically over the ring of flames, wetting himself a path straight to the body. “This means you, too.”

Arthur ignored him, and Uther called out, “So be it on your head!”

This made Arthur look up and nod, and Merlin cannot decipher their exchange, but Uther stood back, crossing his arms, rage in his eyes as Arthur stepped through the flames, pulling the knife he always kept out of his boot and slicing the ropes about the man’s wrists, the body falling until Arthur caught it.

One arm under dead shoulders and another under dead knees, Arthur lifted the waif of a man with ease, and walked off the pyre, and with another flash of Merlin’s eyes, behind his hair under a ducked head, the ring of flames closed behind Arthur, some steam rising for Merlin to burn the wet wood, but otherwise looking natural, despite it being blatantly not.

Everyone and everything is silent as Arthur carried the man to the cart, originally meant to carry charred remains, but the body is only covered in soot, the clothes barely singed, if at all.

Arthur lay the man’s body down reverently, before unclasping his cloak and laying it over the man, the hood over the man’s face as he turned to the undertaker, and nodded.

The undertaker gave Arthur and analytical look, before glancing at the king, who did not respond.

With a sigh, the undertaker cracked the whip, and the crowd parted, and within moments, the body was gone.

Walking forward, Merlin draped his own cloak across Arthur’s shoulders. Merlin’s magic could keep him warm – Arthur had nothing against the pre-winter chill.

There was dead silence (huh, wasn’t that ironic?), before Uther said, “Guards – seize him, and take him to the dungeons.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, but Arthur glared at him, and turned around complacently, making the cloak fall back into Merlin’s waiting arms, his hands already behind his back as the shackles were clasped over his wrists, the guards walking Arthur into the castle, and down towards the dungeons.

The prince’s eyes and chin never dropped once. They moved only when he turned his face up to give his father a look Merlin could not see, before he disappeared inside the castle.

~*~

That night, Merlin brought Arthur his food. The cook, knowing Arthur would be allowed to eat little – and maybe not even want to – had at least ensured he got the best the kitchen had to offer, even going so far as the heat and cool all foods appropriately.

No one wanted to see Arthur bleed for his kindness.

Apparently, not even the guards.

While under normal circumstances, they might have given Merlin some trouble for his actions, asking why it wasn’t a kitchen-maid or castle page bringing it, this time they easily stepped aside without a word, nodding in acknowledgement.

No one…

“Arthur?” Merlin said softly as the guard opened the cell door for Merlin, not even bothering to make Merlin push it through the slot.

“Mm?”

It appeared Arthur had fallen asleep in his time in the dungeons. He was leaning against the wall, head resting on his shoulder, and the awkwardness of the angle showed as he rolled his neck, that blank look on his face that meant he was refusing to show pain.

“Dinner,” Merlin said easily, holding up the plate.

Arthur raised an eye at the sight of meat, bread, and fruit that had been crammed onto the little plate, and Merlin smiled softly as he kneeled by his king. Or future king, at least.

“Just for me?” Arthur asked, amused smile on his face.

Merlin grinned. “Er, she may have been hinting at me to stay with you for the meal.”

“Will the guards let you?”

“They just let me through without announcing myself formally, and didn’t say a word when they let me in.”

“They also just locked the door behind you.”

Merlin turned his head and looked, and yes, indeed, they had.

With a shrug and a smile, Merlin sat himself down more firmly, balancing the plate on his lap as he asked, “I heard the king met with you, in here, earlier today?”

Arthur nodded, taking a piece of bread for himself as he said, “My sentence will be fifteen lashes for disobeying a direct order from my king.”

The slice of steak froze on its way to Merlin’s mouth, as he stared in shock at Arthur. The prince, himself, was looking at his bread as if it held the answer to his problems.

Remembering that the sorcerer from this morning’s last meal was bread, and that Merlin personally believed he concocted his last act of defiance on the pyre last night while eating, Merlin wondered if maybe, it just might.

“Fifteen?!” he cried out. “That…you’ll die!”

“I won’t die, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Men have gotten almost twice as much and lived.”

“Not for very long afterwards!” Merlin yelped. “I…that’s…isn’t that just a tad bit excessive to you?”

Arthur sighed. “It was originally supposed to be ten.”

Merlin frowned. “Then why…?”

“For refusing to apologize to him.”

He blinked, wondering at how the prince managed to live so long, and said, “Well, that was smart.”

Arthur looked up from the bread and stared piercingly into Merlin’s eyes, penetrating his soul as he said, “It was. I have spent the first two decades of my life bending to his every will without thought. I am not going to be his little puppet, anymore!”

Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then spoke. “Bloody noble prat.”

Arthur rolled his eyes affectionately as he bit into the bread, before lowering his voice and asking quietly and in a far more serious tone, “How are you doing?”

Merlin smiled fondly as he said, “I’m pretty sure you get more nightmares from these than I do.”

Arthur rolled his eyes again, and seemed to be pondering between the food on the plate as he finished his breath. Merlin’s eyes flashed and the meat and bread were warm again as he handed the sturdy venison to Arthur. “C’mon, you’ll need your strength, tomorrow.”

“You do know being flogged basically means kneeling in one spot, right?” Arthur said, voice amused and eyes terrified. He sighed and said, “I’ve only been flogged once in my life. I was about…sixteen? Almost seventeen, at any rate. I got into some tiff another knight, and that spiraled out of control with my father, and, well…I got three strokes for that. I’ve been multiplying it by five in my head, and…”

Merlin could see the barely suppressed shudder as he ate another grape.

“Maybe he’ll reduce it to ten if you apologize, anyway-”

“No,” Arthur said. “I am not going to go crawling to my father to beg for mercy!”

And the determination in his voice made Merlin know that this was a lost cause.

Sighing, Merlin set the plate carefully on the ground and leaned over to cup Arthur’s face in his hands, before kissing him, try to give Arthur confidence and reassurance and strength in one press of their lips.

Arthur pressed back, if only lightly, smiling as they parted as he said, “I’ll be fine.”

The prick knew him a bit too well, at times.

~*~

Merlin shivered in the late-late-late-autumn chill, pulling Arthur’s cloak tight to his chest as the guards led their prince out on to the scaffold, cut the back of his shirt down the middle to bare his back, and shackled him, kneeling, to the post.

“Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot,” Uther called out from high up, though not his balcony. “You are hereby sentenced to fifteen lashes by half-braid whip for disobeying a direct order from your king, whom you have sworn oath to.”

Arthur said nothing, the people gasped at the number, and Uther looked to the already-regretful executioner and said, “Begin.”

The whip was whistling through the air, and landed on Arthur’s back with a sharp, CRACK.

Despite all the stories about wronged heroes keeping silent throughout this kind of punishment, and whip was painful, and already, Arthur grunted, jerking forward as a welt appeared across his back, starting from his left shoulder and lowering towards the right side of his back.

Merlin wished he knew all of them would be like this. But with a half-braid whip, half would result in welts and bruises…and half would result in scars.

He slowly moved around the scaffold, needing to see Arthur’s face.

CRACK

Merlin winced at the next crack as the whip connected with Arthur’s back, able to see his face as he desperately bit his lip to at least try and keep silent.

CRACK

Another grunt, and Merlin himself swallowed thickly as he watched Arthur’s face contort with pain.

This was all so bloody wrong.

CRACK

Merlin whimpered with this grunt, nearly screwing his eyes shut, like Arthur before him.

CRACK

“Nggh…” Arthur’s grunt was a little more drawn out, this time.

Perversely, it almost sounded like the noises Arthur made when they fucked.

CRACK

“Ungh…” Arthur groaned, sweat layering his body, chest heaving as he struggled to breath.

CRACK

“Agh!” Arthur cried out, jerking forward against the post, chain rattling in line with his pain-

CRACK

This time, Arthur choked on whatever noise was to come out of his throat. For a moment, he stopped breathing entirely, chest movements caught in a terrifying limbo as the whip whistled through the air again.

CRACK

“Argh!” Arthur cried out. Merlin flinched back from the sound, as did many in the crowd below, watching.

CRACK

“Aah!” Arthur’s sharp cry drew Merlin back. He winced at the sight of blood rolling over Arthur’s shoulders and down his chest. He wondered how many of the strikes have left open scars, so far.

CRACK

“ARGH!” Arthur’s face contorted in agony, eyes screw shut, as Merlin’s eyes prickled with the effort to not cry, not show weakness – for Arthur.

CRACK

And Arthur’s scream dissolved into a single sob, his entire body shaking with it.

CRACK

This time, Gwen sobbed, in time with Arthur, who at this point was only being held up on his kness by the shakles on his wrists.

CRACK

Arthur clutched at the chains as another sob was ripped out of him-

CRACK

As the whip slid off his back from the last strike, Arthur whimpered and clutched the chain to hold himself up.

Arthur entire back was likely dripping blood – his front certainly was, from when the whip would curl and catch on his shoulders, his chest, his hips, and his arms. Even his chin had scarlet stain from where it had been resting against his chest as he tried to breathe himself back into calm.

Raising his face, Arthur only looked up and turned his head to turn a blank, unreadable expression upon Uther.

Even now, he would not give in.