Virtue - 1/3

[nyxelestia]

Title: Deliver Us From Evil

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Companion piece to my fic Rapture - Arthur's POV of the events. Arthur watches an unknown man burn for his kindness, and yet still give the people hope.

Pairing: Arthur/Merlin

Warnings: None, so far

Beta: jusmine984

Notes: A/N: I was procrastinating my online driving lessons…then my college writing course…then my homework…then my project…then my NaNoWriMo novel…and I got to this.

...I never learn...

This piece corresponds to Rapture, Part 1: Thy Kingdom Come.

~*~

It seems sorcerers could never bear to do anything half-arsed when they truly set their minds to something. The man Arthur faced now had healed an entire court with one spell from some magical disease.

And now, he was being burned for it.

He didn’t even have a name. No one had known it when he came, and when asked in the dungeons, he did not give one.

Arthur didn’t blame the man.

He was down on the street to watch the proceedings. He could not and would not stand by his father and watch a man burn for saving everyone’s lives.

Beside him, Merlin turned his head away, and Arthur’s reserve hardened as he pondered the guilt he knew Merlin would be facing at letting this man burn when he was fully capable of stopping it. But it was too late to save the man without revealing himself, and they both knew Merlin was more important to the future of the kingdom, of Albion, and Arthur, for his part, could not bear to lose Merlin.

In a sense, he was rather glad the man had been there, to heal where Merlin would have done the same, to take the fall for Merlin, letting his Merlin live.

And he hated himself for thinking that.

As the last of the bales of hay were laid out, Arthur pressed a hand against Merlin’s hip, hidden beneath their cloaks as he did his best to comfort Merlin and support himself.

Despite the lack of any particular resemblance between the two, all Arthur could see as he looked at the man was Merlin. Because his imagination, his inner eye, were all too vivid, and it was far too easy to see Merlin standing up there in tone clothing, Merlin in shackles over broken skin, Merlin slumping, dejected, against the post as he awaited his death, Merlin screaming as he burned from the outside-in, Merlin-

No.

He mentally shook himself away from that train of thought. There was a reason he didn’t let Merlin anywhere near the flames, even something as simple as a candle. After all, what if the idiot caught himself on fire or something? He knew that it would leave not even the slightest burn, but Arthur knew his imagination would be given an inch and take a mile for it.

It was given nothing at night and took leagues, dreams of Merlin on the pyre, of Morgana, of countless faces Arthur helped to put there, their souls taking every reflection and every mirror as Camelot rose and fell by magic, and by sword, and regardless of who burned, Merlin was no longer there.

During these nights, Merlin seemed to understand Arthur’s fears enough to slip quietly into his bed, holding him tightly, being the first thing Arthur felt, saw, smelled when he awoke. He said nothing and would hold Arthur tightly as Arthur knew Guinevere did Morgana, and would thankfully speak nothing of it the next morning.

Beside him, Merlin tightened his cloak around himself. Arthur wondered if it was just against the chill, or something else entirely.

“This isn’t right,” Morgana said from beside him, giving a sympathetic glance towards Merlin, and inexplicably, towards him as well.

Merlin smiled sadly.

Arthur turned and watched as his father read out the man’s sentence, citing only magic, making no mention of how this man saved the lives of an entire court with it.

“Light the flames!” Uther’s voice rang out.

As the pyre erupted in flames, Arthur’s hand tightened, as Merlin’s face writhed in the fire in his mind’s eye.

There was little, at first, but then the smoke filled the courtyard. Arthur had never noticed it, before, being above the smoke in the balcony for all previous executions, being at a level where it had usually dissipated into the air before he would properly breathe it in.

Merlin had foreseen this, though, and handed Arthur his neckerchief, wet, to press against his face against the smoke.

The burning warlock on the pyre had turned his face into his shoulder. Arthur pitied the man if his instinct made him do this – he would have not merciful death by smoke, but a painful one by flames.

Guinevere was crying, and Morgana had wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders, pulling their bodies close for comfort.

Arthur had to fight to keep himself from doing the same with Merlin. He wanted, desperately, to pull Merlin to his chest, right now, and wrap his cloak around both of them, sharing their body warmth and keeping them both safe.

As it was, he nearly jumped when he felt Merlin’s hand over his own on Merlin’s hip. But he would not move it. This was discreet enough, and his father would not see it.

“Our Father who art in Heaven,” the man suddenly yelled out.

What the hell?

“Hallowed be thy Name,” he continued.

And Arthur smiled, at the warlock’s last defiance, and grinned at the look of fury on his father’s face. However, the laws of Camelot allowed even a sorcerer their dying prayers. Even Royalty had no right to interfere with God, no matter how vile the king found the idea of a sorcerer reciting words so holy.

Arthur knew the comfort in words sorcerers found. Merlin explained it once, why he kept using spells when he did not need them for his magic, why poetry and stories came more easily to him in working than song and tune, why he could keep knowledge found in half the books in the castle in his head and yet barely remember to wear matching socks in the mornings.

“Thy Kingdom come!” the man yelled. Arthur blinked in shock to realize the man was staring at Arthur as he said this. His eyes begged something of Arthur, something which Arthur wasn’t sure he could give, but he was damn well going to try.

He nodded his promise to the man. For him. For Merlin. For Camelot. For Albion.

“Thy will be done,” and now, the man’s gaze fell across Arthur and Merlin and all the rest.

“On Earth as it is in heaven,” and this prompted the man to gaze back to the sky, making a pact between none but himself and the gods, whoever they were.

“Give us this day, our daily bread,” and Arthur wondered at the rope-thin man and what bread he has received in his life. “And forgive us our trespasses.”

And then the man’s gaze turned to his father, above them all.

“As we forgive those who trespass us.”

…this man was insane if he was forgave Uther.

But then Arthur took in the look on his father’s face at the realization and decided maybe the man wasn’t so insane, after all. Bloody warlocks…

“And lead us not into temptation!” The man looked into the crowd, at Merlin of all people, and glancing sideways, Arthur saw Merlin’s eyes flash gold.

They all had their promises to make and keep.

“And deliver us from evil.”

And with that line, he turned his face heavenward, looking for something, someone, beyond that which the earth could provide.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin’s eyes flash gold again.

The flames behind the man rose spectacularly, branching off in opposite directions, just behind the man, making the people gasp in awe as they took an impossible form, as they became wings.

Perhaps holiness had little to do with what god you worshipped and more to do with how it was done – how you helped their creations, the people, the true pieces that made up the whole of Albion.

He wondered where this would put him, and put Merlin.

“For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever!”

And the flames turned white, almost blinding but not quite, and rose even more, almost as if ready to take flight, and indeed the wings spread in flight as the man screamed, “Amen!”

With that, the wings of flame came down in one flap, before vanishing without further lighting the pyre, the yellow flames of death still but a ring around him as he screamed in rapture beyond the understanding of mere mortals still fully part of this realm – for indeed, this man was no longer completely here.

As the wings vanished, the man suddenly slumped, a puppet with his strings cut, except he held his own strings. His eyes were open and vacant.

He was dead.

And along with everyone else around him, Arthur lowered his head in prayer.

Amen

Part 2 - Held By A Kiss

Comments

[et-cetera55.livejournal.com]

I love it when you procrastinate! This was so powerful! Poor Arthur!
Looking forward to the next time you procrastinate...

[nyxelestia.livejournal.com]

...right now...

[myrimidryad.livejournal.com]

I love Arthur's dark thoughts of being glad Merlin isn't taking the fall. And I agree - you should procrastinate more often. ;)

[nyxelestia.livejournal.com]

*headdesk*

*iz procrastinating now*

[myrimidryad.livejournal.com]

*gets out a flag to cheer you on*

[nyxelestia.livejournal.com]

Now you have to worry about my beta procrastinating. ;D

[myrimidryad.livejournal.com]

Shoot! *sigh* There's a hitch to every plan...

[pianeko.livejournal.com]

I love this fic, and to read it from Arthur's POV...*sigh* poor him!

[frames-in-aria.livejournal.com]

Hweee. Nice companion ♥

[noahvearn.livejournal.com]

i do like fics with several povs ^^ it would explain in details of other people's feelings and emotions. make me more understand of what the story tried convey.

oh, part 1? i need to bookmark this one so i won't miss the other parts =D

[nyxelestia.livejournal.com]

I'm a big fan of doing multiple POV's for the same fic/thing. ^_^