Free For All

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Happy Friday everyone! And, since it's friday, you know what that means! Free For All. Any fandom, any pairing, any prompt.



Just a couple reminders though:

Don't include spoilers in the prompt for any show or movie until at least one week after air date. Please remember that for those people in countries other than the originating home of the show, there can be long delays before an episode is aired (for example, Torchwood just started this week here in the states).

If your response to a prompt includes spoilers, warn in bold and leave at least three spaces before the beginning of the story.

Don't leave more than 5 prompts in a row, and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. When someone else has answered, you can leave more prompts.



Also, please be kind to the code monkeys and leave everything in the proper format. For example:

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, wordless conversation

Andromeda/SGA, Tyr Anasazi/Ronon Dex, physical



And if none of the prompts here tickle your fingers, you can check out the Lonely Prompts over at our Delicious page. Use the "lonely" tag bundles in the right hand side bar to find the fandoms you're interested in.


Also, remember that this weekend is a contest weekend. Lonely Prompts are your mission. I do need to get the last few prizes out, but money's been tight. Please be patient and I'll get it done. If you care to contribute to defraying the cost of prizes, donations are accepted via Paypal. The address to paypal is commentficmods@gmail.com.

Thanks everyone! Happy Friday!

Comments

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, wordless conversation

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Eliot was standing over the body when Nate rushed in. Eliot's eyes told Nate that there was no use checking for a pulse.

Nate's look of comprehension told Eliot, 'It's okay. I know you didn't have a choice.'

Eliot's abrupt turn and tense shoulders told Nate that he wasn't interested in talking more about it.

Nate's hand on Eliot's shoulder when they got back to the van told Eliot that Nate would do his best to be supportive.

But Eliot's brief look, before he turned his back on Nate, was full of need and regret and, Nate thought, accusation. His pained eyes said, 'I'm not supposed to have to kill any more, Nate. You're supposed to plan it well enough that I don't have to.'

There was mostly silence that night. When Eliot headed to bed, Nathan started to get up to go with him, but Eliot gave the tiniest of gestures that said, 'Stay put, Nate. I can't stand the sight of you right now.'

Nathan sat there replaying the day in his head, wondering what he was going to say to Eliot the next day.

+++++

Eliot went to bed alone and waited. He half expected Nate to come after him. Usually when Eliot acted like he wanted to be alone, Nate just ignored him.

Eliot almost laughed at himself, for being the kind of guy that pushes away when he wants to be held closer. But after today, he really didn't feel like laughing.

He didn't have a choice at the moment. But maybe if he had played it a little differently in the lead-up, he could have scared the guy enough to prevent it. When Nate burst in to see Eliot standing there over the body, Eliot had tried to convey an apology with his eyes. He wasn't able to say it, but he tried to show it.

Nate just gave a look that spoke of disappointment. Later, in the van, Nate had put a hand on his shoulder. 'I feel sorry for you,' it told Eliot, 'you just can't help yourself.'

Eliot had turned away. He couldn't say anything but he looked at Nathan and tried to be honest in that moment of eye-to-eye. He allowed Nate to see that he was hurting, that he needed him. But Nate was silent after that, so Eliot realized that Nate was having trouble dealing with what happened. He probably regretted letting someone like Eliot into his life.

When Eliot had enough silence, he went upstairs. He knew Nate felt bad for him, that Nate wanted to act like everything was fine. But Eliot wasn't about to let anyone be with him out of pity.

So he lay alone in his room, replaying the events of the day in his head, wondering if Nate would ever again be able to stand the sight of him.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Andromeda/SGA, Tyr Anasazi/Ronon Dex, physical

Animal Magnetism

[stargazer-abeo.livejournal.com]

Animal Magnetism

Andromeda/SGA, Tyr Anasazi/Ronon Dex, physical

-----

It’s a tangible thing, like touching, the tension that runs at times between them.

Someone has to come out on top. It’s what this is, at the heart, all about. Maybe. Or maybe they are fooling themselves in thinking that’s all of what it was. It’s none the less what they’re telling themselves as they go about a deadly dance of predator meeting killer instincts.

It seems to Tyr now that it could be no other way, it was inconceivable, inevitable, and when they first laid eyes on each other, Harper had sort of smirked –all wicked and teasing, those blue eyes said ‘I know what’s going to happen now!’, and then he’d started laying bets with Atlantis’s more foolish men and women. John himself had worked to keep Ronon occupied, to delay this clash, and maybe if he had succeeded Ronon would have killed him, just to get him out of the way. Dylan had tried to interest Tyr in other things, for fleeting peace, in how well built Atlantis was, in its defense and offense, but ultimately, even Dylan had seemed to give up and give in.

So, for no other reason then Tyr snarled at the other male, this other stranger who was so like and unlike his own people, but surely an Alpha for all of that. Ronon had grinned, all teeth and curling lips. They circled a invisible ring, around and around, eyes only for each other, knowing one of them had to step down because this was a physical show of the talking that Dylan was doing with Atlantis and it’s Earth, both sides fancied themselves protector of the people. This was about that, and more.

When they clashed, it was a physical movement, a grind against skin and bone, arm blades and skivs, Ronon was tamed but had lived wilder, without the comforts Tyr once had known, but both could sympathize with each other and survive. Yet they had to find common ground, had to settle the obvious power differences. Ronon didn’t give in, but he was used to giving his back to go in for the kill at a side strike, and Tyr was used to taking every advantage offered, so Tyr straddled Ronon’s back and rode him to the ground, and when their hair was tangled together, tightly managed braids and dreadlocks, Tyr didn’t go for the kill – his arm bone spikes didn’t cut into the sensitive neck and blood didn’t stain them, and Ronon didn’t roll and kick him off to put a shiv in the once merc’s belly. They strained to stay very very still. Something different and alien surged through him, stilled him, and Tyr had to know what it was before he let himself move. He feared making a terrible mistake.

Tyr panted for breath, the heat of it cooling the sweat on Ronon’s neck, and when Ronon flexed experimentally beneath him –testing limits and boundaries as Ronon always felt he must - he closed his eyes tightly and felt the smooth expanse of skin and hot muscle, he groaned, letting out a shaky sigh. A different sort of need crawled up his spine, desire and twisting lust. Ronon smirked up at him, black pupils swallowing the brown ring.

“Want me?” That look asked, invited - and – oh yes – Tyr wanted him. Tyr took him, and Ronon was eager to be his, there was nothing frail in the taking and giving, no asking, only taking and wanting and the always consuming burning need for more and faster and harder, it was heeding him, and only him, but Tyr was no fool – Ronon had wanted to be taken, and Tyr knew that meant that he’d want to take Tyr, one day soon – and Tyr couldn’t wait. He wanted that day, was impatient at the very thought of it.

Ronon was more then his opposite-sided, or similar-minded, he was the familiar stranger – a friend. A life partner and Tyr could not explain it, because a Neitzschean didn’t have words for such things.

That was okay, Ronon just looked at him, and Tyr didn’t have to bother with words. He knew this – whatever you called it, however it was named, this was his and this was Ronon’s claim on him - for the promise it was, and Tyr’s skin shivered in answer, while Ronon only smirked more knowingly then Tyr was comfortable with, for it brought to mind the question of Ronon – maybe – planning this. Yet Tyr never asked that, and Ronon – if he knew, if he had – never told. This was theirs.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

SG1, Daniel/author's choice, tied up

Simple Misunderstandings and the Naked Truth

[chibifukurou]

"This is all you're fault, Vala."

"How is it my fault? I had know idea they would take insult over such a simple misunderstanding."

"Oh, so weren't trying to steal a sacred fertility idol."

"Well I thought it was a warrior idol."

"Oh, so you thought we were going to be tied up and sacrificed to their Warrior God. That is so much better."

"Well at least this way they put us in the same room."

"They put us in the same room, NAKED."

"Well, that's hardly the point. It will be much easier for the rest of SG-1 to rescue us if we're in the same room."

"I give up, you just don't get it."

"What's to get, it was a simple misunderstanding."

"Which lead to us being held prisoner and sacrificed to their Fertility God."

"Well at least this way, we get to have a fun time before we die."

*groan*

"What? Daniel are you ignoring me? Daniel! Daniel, Daniel, Daniel, Daniel, *sigh*... party pooper."

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

RPS/SPN, Father Morgan/evil!John, solitude

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

RPS/SPN, Father Morgan/evil!John/Father Ewan, sacrifice & sacrament

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

You Rang M'Lord?, Cissy/Ivy, party frock

[anthimeriate.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Adelle/Claire, I know the voices dying with a dying fall

(A little T.S. Eliot, anyone? I think this is my large dork moment of the day.)

[aravistarkheena.livejournal.com]

Oh man, my dork moment is so much worse. I've had Prufrock stuck in my head all day. Normal people get SONGS stuck in their head. I get poetry. Last week it was Keats' Ode to a Nightingale. D:

Beneath the music from a further room/So I should I presume?

[mariana-oconnor.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Chuck, Author's Choice, Hardison hacks the NSA

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Aren't nerds supposed to be tiny and light? Casey thought to himself as he huffed and gasped. He was carrying two nerds, one on each shoulder. This interagency crap wasn't working out all that well. Especially ever since they kept bringing in 'private contractors' to help out.

Of course, Hardison and Bartowski would have been harmless in most situations. But they shouldn't have been left in a room together, especially one with a computer, Casey knew. But Casey had only been gone a little bit.

He didn't think they would be able to access the NSA's Fulcrum file.

To be honest, he didn't even think that they would decide on the best 'vintage' video game before Casey got back.

Stupid geniuses.

But still, something didn't add up. Even if Fulcrum had immediately sent over a bomb, how did they get it there in time? Casey wondered.

As an out-of-breath Casey set them down on the ground at a a safe distance right before the 'safehouse' exploded, a confused Alec said, "Okay, that was fun, but, uh... why in the heck did you carry me? I can walk. I don't need to go with you everywhere. Or did you just confuse me with that bulgy-looking vein on your forehead?"

Chuck answered, "That's Casey's job, dude. He gets extra pay every time he carries a nerd."

"That is _not_ how it works Chuck!" Casey growled.

Just then a small blonde woman jumped into Casey's arms. "That looks like fun! My turn now. Giddyup!"

"Who the hell is this?" Casey asked an amused-looking Hardison.

"That's Parker."

"And who's Parker?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "I'm the one who stopped Fulcrum from getting you. I blew up the building and now they think you're dead. Yay us!"

"I like her," Chuck said as he nodded approvingly and Hardison grinned. Casey dropped her and rubbed his temples. 'Do not shoot the nerds or weirdos,' he repeated to himself, 'it is your duty to your country to not shoot the nerds and weirdos.'

[feywood.livejournal.com]

The Dark is Rising, Simon/Will, hot summer's day.

[feywood.livejournal.com]

Final Fantasy X-2, Baralai/Gippal, that which yields is not always weak

[shanaqui]

Plenty of people think Gippal's an idiot. Those same people probably look at Baralai and think that he's a weak girly man, or something like that, which just goes to show who exactly are the idiots in this situation. Anybody who really knows Baralai knows that beneath the smile, beneath the desire to work things out, there's a will of steel; beneath the smile and the quiet eyes, there's a lightning quick fiend in battle.

Gippal's pretty much hyper-aware of that right now, with Baralai beneath him, even with Baralai tipping his head back in an almost submissive way, even with the little noises he's making. Gippal bites, and he almost whimpers. You could almost forgive someone not understanding how strong he is, hearing that -- but then there's his body, wound tight as a spring, muscled and lithe and ready, at any moment, for a fight.

Gippal grins. Kisses again. Bites again, harder. "Weak girly man, huh?"

"Stop teasing," Baralai says, in an entirely reasonable voice.

Gippal grins all the more, slipping down lower, trailing kisses over Baralai's chest, licking sweat from his skin. "Or?"

"Or I'll do something intensely painful to sensitive parts of your body," Baralai says, and he still sounds entirely reasonable, even slightly cheerful.

Gippal would say, see what I mean? -- but there's no one there to say it to, and besides, he's no idiot. He does as he's told: best thing for everyone.

[mariana-oconnor.livejournal.com]

King Arthur (film), Gawain/Galahad, 'Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.' (Charles Dickens)

[smaragdbird.livejournal.com]

Galahad always had a sure image of home. Home meant his father and his mother and his brothers and sisters. Home was Samartia with its horses and endless plains. Home was going wherever he wanted to go, no patrols, no Romans and no Woads.
The other knights liked to mock them for it but it was their problem if they had forgotten what home was like, not his. Galahad counted every day of his fifteen years until he would be a free man again and could return home.

Fifteen years later, after they had lost Dagonet and Tristan and Lancelot when they should have been free and on their way home.
Galahad looked at Gawain and understood suddenly that his friend would stay. Bors, he knew, but now he understood that all of them had given up the thought of Samartia long ago and carved them a new home here, in this country or in another person. Bors with Vanora and their children, Lancelot would have never left Arthur and Tristan had long since belonged to no one but himself and the country around them. Dagonet, Dagonet would have never left either. Too attached to Bors and Tristan and to the boy he had found, Lucian.

'Are you thinking about Samartia again?' Gawain teased him.
'A bit. When will you leave?' Galahad asked if only to hear the answer he already knew from Gawain.
'I'm not sure if I will.' Gawain looked apologetic at him:
'I know that we talked about this but I think my place is here now.'
'Everyone's place is here, it seems.' Galahad replied, gesturing to Arthur and Bors.
'And yours?' Was he mistaken or did Gawain look afraid? Afraid that Galahad would leave him, perhaps?
'I can't return without you.' Galahad looked Gawain in the eyes when he said those words:
'I cannot imagine my life without you, here or in Samartia. I suppose that makes you my home.'
Gawain stared at him for a few seconds until the realization began to come trough and a smile broke out on his face. Galahad thought that it looked like a sunrise over Samartia: beautiful and familiar.

[mariana-oconnor.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Merlin/Will, when the nights start drawing in

[momma-66.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Castiel, fears

nowhere left to fall - Castiel/Dean, PGish, spoilers for season 4

[tigriswolf]

Castiel has never feared Falling because he knew he would never falter from his Father's will. There were no temptations for him; Heaven was pure and clean, all he could ever imagine wanting with the scant imagination given to angels.

Castiel has never feared Man because men were so blinded by their own desires and thoughts. Men were children, barely more than dust, though beautiful as are all Father's creations.

Touching Dean Winchester's soul, Castiel does not fear. Pouring Father's grace into Alistair's pet, Castiel does not wonder about Falling, about temptation, or about how what little of Dean remained curled up in his embrace as he hurried from Hell's flames.

Castiel does not feel his slow slide down. He never fears Falling.

When he plunges, after Zachariah’s machinations and Lucifer’s awakening, he still has not felt fear of Fall.

[momma-66.livejournal.com]

Cursed, Jimmy/Bo, one more transformation

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Castle, Ryan/Esposito, quickie in the bathroom at work

Alive

[raapsteeltje.livejournal.com]

Hiya. I love your prompt, I'm surprised no one has done it yet. So, well, I did it for you. It's my first time writing Ryan/Esposito so I hope it's at least a little good. It's angst-y, though. Hope you'll like it anyway xD
--------------------------------
They hadn't really planned for this. It had just happened.
After their last case (well, in the five minutes between the solving of the old one and getting a new one), they both had needed comfort. And who else could they turn to? Castle had Beckett, and Beckett didn't seem to need anyone. Ryan was pretty sure she was a cyborg. Esposito teased him with that, said he watched too much sci-fi.
Either way, they had to go to each other to feel alive. And after having seen so many dead bodies – who wouldn't want to feel alive?
Which is probably why they had ended up in the bathroom, kissing feverishly. Though, even being drunk would've been a better excuse, but it didn't matter. After having a quickie in the bathroom, and ignoring the phone as it rang right in the middle of it, they were satisfied and could go back to what they did. Solving murder cases.
But this would be the last time. And this time, they would stick to that promise.

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Castle, Ryan/Esposito, "Beer after work?" "The usual meaning of beer?" "Of course"

PART 1 - Being Strangers, Ryan/Esposito, PG-13

[http://users.livejournal.com/_bluebells/]

This may not be quite what you were thinking of, hope you still enjoy it! Sorry about the length.

----

It’s been almost three months since Ryan was transferred to his new precinct under the white collar division as a liaison to the FBI.

Esposito can count on one hand the number of times they’ve spoken since. When Beckett asks him if he’s seen their old friend one morning, he realises just how long it’s been and the guilt is like a punch to the gut.

Esposito and Ryan hadn’t managed the best – or even the most professional – parting.

“’Sposito, man, I looked for you all morning. I wanted you to hear it from me –“

Esposito flared and turned on his partn – no, former partner, outside the Chief’s office. “How about some heads up, man? How long had they been trying to get you over there? You didn’t think maybe this was the sort of thing you wanted to discuss with the guy who’s had your back for the last three years?”

Ryan’s expression was torn and yesterday Esposito’s first instinct would have been to apologise, brush it off, find a compromise, just to make that expression lighten up. That was yesterday.

“Chief pulled me into his office this morning, he said the white collar division had an opportunity for me –“

“You didn’t have to say ‘yes’!”

Ryan stared at him and slowly shook his head. “Yeah, man. I did.” He sighs, hands on his hips and he leans in to mutter for some semblance of privacy, although they’re standing in the middle of the corridor and people were starting to notice. “You know I’ve been heading here, the FBI—“

Esposito could barely hear him over the angry thud of his heart in his chest. Lip curled, he threw up his hands and started backing away. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s your life. Go get 'em federalies.”

“Esposito,” Ryan sighed, exasperated, but then Beckett was there, eyes blazing as she glared between them.

“Do you think you two could manage this like professional officers and take this somewhere else? Everyone is staring and this isn’t the last impression I want to leave them with!”

“It’s all right, Beckett, Ryan’s made it pretty clear that we’re done.”

Esposito heads to the roof and ignores his partner as he calls after him. He’s thankful when nobody follows him.

That was three months ago.

He has a new partner now and he’s thankful they gave him Lindsey who doesn’t try to compete with the memory of Ryan at happy hour. She’s tactful and thorough, she doesn’t balk at crime scenes and she has an entirely different sense of humour that still cracks him up, but she’s not Ryan.

It’s three months, almost to the day, when they’re making a coffee stop in the break out room and Esposito almost doesn’t recognise Ryan when he passes by the window.

Esposito double takes, recovering from Lindsey’s anecdote about her family over the weekend and Lindsey looks over her shoulder, concerned.

“What is it?”

“I’ll be damned… I think that was my old partner.”

Lindsey takes his coffee mug from him, “Well, go on!”

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Burn Notice/legends, any, AU where the Leverage and/or Burn Notice characters travel back to the days of Robin Hood and give him advice

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Leverage, any, Victorian poet

[moonchildfic.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Dom!Nate/Sub!Eliot, "somtimes he lets me fight"

No fic but...

[canadiangoddess.livejournal.com]

Oh that prompt...OMG...GUH...*is dead*

(wasn't this the greatest epidode in the history of ever??)

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Dark Angel, Alec/Logan, Logan finds out that Alec is thinking about cloning Logan

[moonchildfic.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, Putting the safety back on the gun.

mmm preslashy goodness.

[maab-connor.livejournal.com]

SPOILERS for The Tap-Out Job!!

***

***

***

Eliot was quiet on the flight back from Nebraska. He sat in the corner as far as he could, his swollen-shut eye to the wall of the plane, the other eye moving critically over everyone. He didn’t let anyone touch him. Nate made sure he was the one next to Eliot the whole time, keeping a buffer between Eliot and the world. His hitter was one large raw nerve. When they got to their cars, Nate made sure to slide into the passenger seat of Eliot’s truck quickly.

“What are you doing?” Eliot demanded.

“You’re my ride home,” Nate said as flippantly as he could, it wouldn’t help anything if Eliot knew what Nate was up to. And he must have done it right because Eliot just shot him a withering glare and climbed into the driver’s seat.

They rode in silence.

“I’m hungry,” Nate said as they approached his exit. “I think I’m gonna have to call down to the steak house and order up some dinner.” He made sure to keep his voice light, like he was thinking out loud to fill up the space where they should have been talking. “Oh, and the Sox are playing the O’s tonight. Sounds like my night’s all mapped out. What about you, any big plans or are you just going to slow down like me tonight?”

Eliot didn’t say anything, just shrugged, his jaw clenched tight enough to see the pulse jump over the bone.

“Tour de France is on too,” Nate said like he’d just remembered. “Not in the mood for golf, not after that game… Tiger Woods will never top that last game.”

Eliot remained quiet as he stopped in front of Nate’s door.

Nate noticed that Eliot had stopped in a parking spot. “You’re welcome to come up. Red meat, hot coffee, seven hundred sports channels and six flat screens?” he sing-songed temptingly. He managed not to gloat when Eliot turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. Instead he grabbed his bag from the bed of the truck and strolled across the street.

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Terminator TSCC, any, "Pretend we're strangers."

John/Derek therefore warning for incest

[smaragdbird.livejournal.com]

“John...we can’t...this is wrong...I’m your uncle and-“ John stopped Derek’s tormented reasoning with a finger over his lips.
“Pretend we’re strangers.” He whispered: “Pretend it’s 2021 and we just met for the first time. Pretend I’m just another guy that escaped with your brother.”
“I didn’t know you were Kyle’s son back then.” Derek tried to argue.
“Does that change your feelings for me?” Derek looked away from John:
“It should.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.” The steel in John’s voice reminded Derek so much of the John Connor he had met first that he felt his resolve crumble.
“Did I love you?”
“John-“ Derek began in a pained voice but John didn’t let him:
“Did you love me? Do you love me?” The steely demand in John’s voice was laced with concern, with fear, just like it had been when Derek had returned from his imprisonment.
“You know the answer to that.”
“Do I?”
“John, this wrong.” Derek tried a last time: “And you know that.”
“Yes, I know and I knew in the future, too and yet I still chose you.” John came closer and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck.
“Just pretend we’re strangers.” He whispered again: “Just pretend it’s 2021.”

[moonchildfic.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, When you can't fight instinct.

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Kings, Jack/David, "You need to know when to shut up"

The Return

[besottedly.livejournal.com]

Jack gripped the back of the chair to prevent his hands from finding their way around David’s neck. That David quivered like a rabbit did nothing to quell his anger.

“What do you think you were doing out there?”
“I was letting the people know that they are not alone. That I have returned and that they need fear no longer.”

“But they need fear. You need fear. I need fear.”
Jack looked into David’s eyes. He looked exactly as if he had wandered through the wilderness and returned an enlightened man. It was the first time he had truly looked at him since they had parted years ago.

“But why? Why should anyone fear?”

“I should fear because you interrupted my first public appearance in three years. Do you know how much it looks as if I had something to do with your return? If tomorrow morning does not find me dead by my own father’s hand, I will be astonished.” Jack raised one shaking hand from the back of the chair to point at David. “As you are too dense to care for your own life, I should remind you that you need fear for your child. He only needs one grandson to succeed him.”

“He would never—“

“He has no mercy. We should all fear him.”

[neierathima.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, Arthur is/has magic

[garnet-words.livejournal.com]

The hooks he could almost forgive. And if he was perfectly honest, he wasn't watching for the crate, so that could've been there as well. But after the pain in his shin, he'd looked down, checked that his path was clear of obstacles.

The rope had been perfectly slack, right up until he tripped over it.

If all that had been ignored, it was written all over Merlin's face as the boy twirled the mace, advancing on him. He was almost surprised that everyone else couldn't see what he saw.

The boy turned to the crowd, and Arthur took his shot, taking him down with a nearby broom. It would be so easy to expose him. It was almost tempting to turn him in just to see the pride in his father's eyes at a job well done.

Almost.

But instead, he stayed the guards.

"There's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it."

**

He felt time slow to a crawl as the dagger spun end over end towards him. He wasn't sure where that particular spell was coming from, but he knew he had to take advantage of it somehow. He was hyperaware of all the eyes on him, the eyes following the knife. They'd seen it leave her hand, and even with his reflexes, it'd be nigh impossible to explain.

But to stand there was worse. Would his father make an exception for his only son?

Arthur was about to find out. He shifted his weight just slightly, but before he could move, he felt a sharp pull, and found himself dragged to the floor.

Merlin.

No one had been watching the servant boy.

Arthur stared at him, not in astonishment as everyone else might think, but in wonder. Merlin had risked exposure and execution to save his life, and he couldn't help feeling profoundly grateful.

When he made it back to his quarters that night, he locked the door, shut the window and lit the fireplace, all with a few choice phrases. It felt freeing, moreso than he'd felt in years.

He unlocked the door and leaned out, summoning a page. "Go to Gaius' quarters and tell Merlin I need him."

There was much to discuss.