rec50 | Merlin/Arthur recs: "What You Carry With You" and "If Wishes Were Horses"

Sorry for posting two in a row -- I've fallen behind on cross-posting these things.

Here is my table.

Claim: Merlin (BBC), Merlin/Arthur
Prompt: #34, Guilt
Title: What You Carry With You
Author:

ras_fic
Rating: PG
Length: Medium
Brief summary:Truth and knowledge are just as heavy as any yoke around the neck. For all Arthur's posturing, he is not Atlas, and he can't shoulder the weight of the world. This is a classic that I'd almost forgotten about until I went looking for stories that matched the melancholy of my mood this evening. Arthur's angst in this is perfectly handled, not the least bit overwrought, and his love for Merlin is only matched by Merlin's love for him.

He tests his instincts, one frigid night on a hunt.

They're not lost, though Merlin doesn't know it. Arthur knows exactly where the castle is, could point to it and number the paces it would take to get there. But he lets Merlin grumble about "pratly princes with no sense of direction who insist on going hunting in the snow." Merlin is too busy griping to notice when Arthur pockets the flints from their packs.

They make camp for the night. Arthur orders Merlin to start a fire, and then says he's going to the stream to fetch water. He pauses at the edge of the clearing when he hears Merlin curse. He turns to see Merlin buried elbow deep in one of the packs, searching. Without a fire, they'll surely freeze to death in the night. Arthur is counting on this.

When he returns from the stream, there is a fire blazing bright in the center of the clearing, and Merlin has already set out their bedrolls for the night. Merlin smiles, wide and guileless, and the familiarity of it feels oddly incongruous with the weight of confirmation.

Link: Livejournal

Claim: Merlin (BBC), Merlin/Arthur
Prompt: #29, Intoxication
Title: If Wishes Were Horses
Author: takadainmate
Rating: PG
Length: Medium (6,700)
Brief summary:Merlin had a bad day and it's all Arthur's fault. Drunk!Arthur is hilarious in this.

The day had not got any better from there. This was mostly because Arthur had been in an irritatingly demanding mood which reminded Merlin of spoilt three-year olds, but Merlin wasn't thinking about that. And when his chores for the day were done and Arthur had disappeared for the night (presumably to bed), Merlin came to the conclusion that he had to get out of the castle for the sake of his sanity. He wandered the streets for a while eventually finding himself at door to the Tavern. Apparently his feet had come to the decision that ale was a necessary end to his appalling day, and who was Merlin to argue with his feet? So he pushed the door open and went in, and yes the Tavern was as dingy and grimy and dilapidated as Merlin remembered it. He passed three old men singing and swaying on their rickety stools, a young hooded man huddled over a large glass of frothy-looking ale and a pig on his way to what passed for the bar.

He asked of the tavern-keeper, "What is your strongest drink?" And the tavern-keeper said, "What that lad over there is drinking," and poured a large glass of slightly bitty ale from an old brown ceramic keg. "It's my very best yet," the tavern-keeper told him proudly, smiling widely and patting the keg. It was well known that the tavern-keeper made his ales and liquors in the back of his house where he also housed his chickens and pigs, and it was widely suspected that this was his secret to making the strongest and foulest tasting alcohol in the entire kingdom. Some who had travelled widely and been to many cities and kingdoms and even across the sea scoffed and declared it was the worst in the world.

Link: livejournal