arthur knows there is something to be said of the way a man wears his scars.
his father wears his, an angry silver cord right above his eyebrow, with defiant pride. time and time again, he has seen a visiting noble alight their gaze on the mar, and his father's bellicose stare in return, a silent war between them. i have survived this, the king would say without words. i will survive you.
on his father's men, a constellation of pink, raised flesh-- a rope of gnarled skin on sir bedivere's left arm from the slice of a blade; a thick, white tear in the fabric of ector's neck. when arthur's young, he sits by fires and listens to the tales of bandits, beasts, and brethren who leave the marks on the warriors who arthur loves.
and, in time, they come to arthur. a snaking vine on arthur's right hip. a thin slice along his left bicep. none of them grow angry and purple the way he's seen after the battle dust settles. he's lucky, in that regard, that all his settle into the skin like they belong there. a man who wears his scars not without pride, but whose scars wear him with the same reverence.
his new knights collect them with the same wonder arthur first collected his. a memory of a battle well fought. a time where death reached out its hand and missed. i have survived this. i will survive you.
but they never come to merlin.
at first, when he's young and naive to all the things merlin has done for him, it stands to reason that merlin is never scarred. he doesn't do anything. later, when the truth outs, arthur knows that was as foolish a thought as trusting his father blindly.
merlin fights alongside him, now, in their older years. he watches as blade lunges, as arrow pierces, as spear aims-- and yet, merlin walks away from battle without a scratch. surely, arthur thinks, merlin has just been lucky. maybe his scars are like arthur's-- not quite as visible as his father's, as his men's. hidden underneath cloth and armour.
merlin shares his battlefield, his kingdom, and-- on the luckiest night of arthur's life-- decides to share his bed, too.
it's after arthur has run his hands over every inch merlin will allow him that he realises. not once, in the fog of their union, did arthur's fingers ever stumble over raised skin, divots or grooves.
"what's wrong?" merlin asks, his voice quiet, his lips pressed to where their hands are joined. "tell me if you're about to kick me out of your bed, at least, so i can figure out how i am going to walk after all that."
it's a joke to mask how scared merlin must feel. this is a new development, though one as easy as breath, as predictable as the sun rising in the sky. arthur will tell him that later. for now, though--
"you promised," he whispers into merlin's neck, "to keep nothing more from me."
merlin frowns, his brows drawn together. "i haven't? i mean, if you're talking about my affections, surely we can both admit that yours were the more hidden--"
arthur places a hand over the groove of a lower rib. "here," he says, "is where you were almost run through by bandits, a few seasons ago." his fingers trail down to a hip. "here, you intervened in my fight with some beast or another, and i had to watch gaius give you stitches. and here--"
merlin stops his hand, sucks in a breath. "arthur."
"did you use magic to heal?" arthur finds he isn't angry, not in the way he expects. "i understand, merlin. you had to explain away so much; it would make sense--"
"it's a glamour," merlin admits in the space between his words.
arthur frowns. "a glamour."
merlin can only nod.
arthur knows what the word means, sort of, from the magical instruction and history merlin has given him in the time past their-- arthur's-- new found knowledge of their bond. but glamours, as merlin had explained, are oft for the use of enchantment, so as to make one's romantic interest view them as beautiful--
oh.
he rolls merlin onto his back.
"show me." it is a plea more than a command. it is not from merlin's king, but rather, arthur hopes, his heart.
merlin sighs. his eyes glow gold.
like roots spreading through the earth, a tide rippling over sand, his appearance changes. angry pink gnarls. fine, silver cuts. the faint shadow of where a burn once sat. they litter merlin's pale skin, old and new, in places arthur never could have imagined.
he knows his face must show something that makes merlin turn away from him. with a shaking hand, he turns merlin's chin back to him.
"tell me one thing," arthur says. it is a command, now. "were these all for me?"
there is no air in the room as merlin nods.
slowly, arthur draws in breath. he leans down, then, and presses his lips to one at the base of merlin's neck.
"then," he starts, shakily, "this is mine." another kiss, to his ribs, the puckered flesh of a sword wound. "this is mine." to his wrist, where chains must have sat at the behest of his father. "this is mine," and he's choking up, now.
merlin's trembling underneath him, a quaking branch in the wind. arthur spreads his fingers over merlin's heart, takes its beat in his palm, and looks him in his eyes.
"i will love everything you show me," arthur breathes, a promise, "because it is mine."
"as am i," merlin promises back. "as am i."
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MULTI-CHAPTER:
(Death Must be Lonely Like I am):
Summary: After the Battle of New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. claims Loki for punishment and consequently, also HYDRA. When the Avengers are assembled under the belief that Loki is escaping his cell, they rapidly realize what a mistake they've made leaving the younger Asgardian in their hands. (Gen, blind!Loki)
[REWRITE/REVAMP OF STYGIAN]
Fortunately, Unfortunately :
Summary: After Loki goes missing from Asgardian prisons, Thor leaves Asgard to look for him, ignoring Odin’s insistence and threats not to do so. Odin, desperate, decides to resort to drastic measures to force his heir back to Asgard. As in, pulling Hela out of Helheim, turning her mortal, and sending her after Thor drastic. (Gen)
You Screamed For So Long We Forgot To Care Anymore
Summary: Five months after Thor drags his half-dead brother to Earth to plead asylum, things take a turn for the worse. With the older Asgardian out of commission and a sizeable threat overshadowing them, Clint becomes aware of two facts: One: Loki was tortured, mind-controlled, and manipulated into attacking Earth. Two: Loki knows none of this. (gen, no smut)
Loki waking up with his memories of Thanos and is Not Okay
Clint dealing with what Frigga did to him, Also Not Okay TM
No one is Okay TM
ONE-SHOTS:
With Terror and With Fear:
Summary: After Thor overhears a conversation between Odin and some of the councilmen regarding Loki's true heritage, he vows to tell his brother.
Loki just wishes he could figure out why Thor is refusing to talk to him all of the sudden.
guillotine dreams (don't tell me not to scream)
Summary: "Natasha can’t believe that they missed this at first. It’s not as though Loki was doing a good job at hiding the fact that he was in pain or the mind control. Except… except, well, he was. He was hiding it well. Exceptionally so. If she hadn’t aggravated Loki’s master enough to make it want it want to kill him, then she would have proceeded with the interrogation, likely found out some one-off piece of information, and walked off. Loki’s part in this would have remained the initiator.
Not victim."
AKA: Natasha notices Loki is in pain during her interrogation and it all spirals out of control from there.
intervention, intervention (what intervention?)
Summary: Loki gets a gift for his names day. And then everything goes downhill from there.
OR: the one where Nidavellir poisons Loki's magic to force Odin's hand on a treaty and Odin refuses to help, even if it means Loki's death. So Loki does what he does best: creates a disaster and almost gets himself killed along the way.
AKA: I AM SO SORRY TO MY DEAR FRIEND WHO REQUESTED A LOKI MAGICAL EXHAUSTION FIC MONTHS AGO.
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