Title: Consumed
Author: hermitknut
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur. Could be preslash or slash, depending on how you look at it.
Rating: G
Wordcount: 587
Summary: Ever since the events of 'The Witchfinder', Merlin has had nightmares. Little fic for pandafoot105's birthday. She actually asked for BAMF Merlin, but... it's h/c. >.> I don't know! My brain. 
Disclaimer: Not mine.


He was sweating. There was sweat dripping into his eyes from his brow, beading on his forehead, soaking his cotton shirt. He was drowning in it, drowning in his own fear. But that was better than what was to come.

The flame caught somewhere; Merlin instinctively turned his head but the blindfold hid the world from him. He felt the heat begin, felt his nerves recoil from the warm air. It came first from his left, and then spread, until it was all around him, surrounding him. Then it moved inwards.

Struggling against his bonds, Merlin tried to remember how it had felt before. Before, fire had been a friend – part of his soul, a powerful representation of his magic. Bruises and cuts he’d had as a child, naturally clumsy, but never burns. But now – here in this place – this place where every move was watched, every trace of his true identity a danger not only to him but to the people he cared about – it was death.

He tugged at the ropes until his shoulders ached. The stake pressed into his back. His feet seemed to have gone numb. The crackling grew louder; the heat grew more oppressive. He knew he could cast magic, he knew he could stop it – these bindings were nothing to his power, nothing. But he couldn’t focus, he couldn’t concentrate. The flames ate their way towards him and all Merlin could do was tilt his head back, staring blindly at the cold morning sky. He could no longer feel the chill of the air; the flames were too close, he was boiling, burning –

“Merlin?”

Arthur.

Merlin jerked awake. Arthur was standing over him, a candle in hand, frowning. It was a few seconds before the prince gathered himself; something he saw in Merlin’s expression clearly disturbed him.

“I… need you to ready me for the dawn patrol,” he said after a moment. “Gaius was asleep, I didn’t want to wake him…”

The two of them gazed at each other a moment more. Merlin was fumbling for words, anything, trying to make sense of what he needed to do.

“Merlin? Are you alright?”

Merlin swallowed.

“There was – a fire…” he mumbled, the nightmare still overwhelming him. What Arthur did then surprised both of them; he sat down on the side of Merlin’s bed with him.

“Nightmare?” the prince asked softly. Merlin nodded, and turned his head away. He was shaking slightly, but he didn’t realise until he felt Arthur’s steady hand on his shoulder. He looked back, and flinched – the candle was still in Arthur’s other hand.

Arthur blew it out.

In darkness, Merlin calmed slightly. But he was still on edge, and when there was the sudden noise from outside he jumped.

The window to Merlin’s room flew open, letting blissfully cool air in. Merlin froze, praying that Arthur wouldn’t realise…

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just the wind.”

Merlin felt his heart go back to its normal position. Arthur’s hand moved so that his arm was around Merlin’s shoulders.

“I have nightmares; battles, sometimes. I hate them.” Arthur’s voice was low and steady.

“I burn.”

Merlin felt Arthur turn his head towards him in the darkness, and then…

“I wouldn’t let you.”

For a few long minutes, neither of them said anything. Merlin knew that as soon as they resumed their normal roles this would never have happened. And so he didn’t move, holding onto that closeness a few moments longer. Just a few seconds more…