A/N: So, way back at the beginning of Merlin Headcanons, when I was still trying to KEEP it to headcanons, I wrote this. One time, a couple of sorcerers managed to get a pair of magic restraining cuffs on Merlin. His magic was duly restrained.
So was the sorcerers', the hedge witches', the druids', the griffins' . . .
When an extremely irate Kilgharrah showed up, sniffling like he had a head cold, they had been only too happy to take the cuffs off. Everything got back to normal.
Word got out. No one tried that again.
I decided it was time for actual fic of this.
Merlin woke up to a pounding head and the always discouraging sound of bandits arguing.
"What are you waiting for, you idiots? Get the other one tied up too."
The other one, Merlin realized fuzzily, must mean him as his arms were definitely free. Which meant the first one was . . . Arthur?
"Tied up with what?"
"With. Rope." This time the "you idiots" was left off, but Merlin was pretty sure it was implied.
"There is no more rope!"
Ah. Merlin well remembered the panic of that phrase.
"Use the cuffs, then!"
Merlin frowned. He didn't like the sound of cuffs. Maybe he could use magic to take the bandits out before it came to that. He cracked his eyes open.
Nope. Arthur was tied up just across from him, and he was very much awake. Merlin would just have to wait this out. It wasn't like cuffs could hold him any better than rope, really.
"But those are supposed to be for sorcerers!"
"Yes," the first voice said through gritted teeth, "but since we don't have any of those, and since we were specifically hired to capture these two men, and since it's not like the cuffs won't hold someone without magic perfectly well, why don't you go get the cuffs?"
"Oh."
Merlin thought he probably ought to do something about all this, but Arthur was still right there, and his head was fuzzy enough he didn't dare count on his skills of diversion.
He was still blearily trying to sort the problem out when someone came up behind him and snapped on the cuffs.
That didn't help the fuzzy feeling. In fact, Merlin realized with a blink as he looked down at himself, he was looking rather fuzzy too. And something felt rather funny in the air. Something missing.
But he still wasn't thinking very well, so someone else could deal with the problem this time. And if no one did, he'd get around to it eventually.
Right after a little nap.
Some words were just too great to entrust to verbal speech, so when Mordred finally screwed up the courage to say what must be said, he did it telepathically as the druids had taught him so long ago. Kara, I love you.
Kara said nothing. In fact, she didn't even turn to look at him.
Kara? Say something.
She didn't even look at him.
Mordred waited hopefully for another few moments, but the bitter truth crashed down on him soon enough. Kara didn't feel the same. She wouldn't even give him the respect of saying so.
