Fanfic - It's Dangerous Business, Walking out Your Door (Merlin - 1/2)
Title: It’s Dangerous Business, Walking out Your Door
Author: AccordingToMel
Summary: In many ways, Arthur was the only thing keeping his sanity intact, while simultaneously being one of the main sources for his inner turmoil. Which was why he needed to get away. He needed some perspective, some time to sort things out and get himself together again. It was only a matter of time before Arthur finally broke him.
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Spoilers: Everything until the end of 2x13
Word Count: 17,778
Disclaimer: Ha! I wish!
Author’s note: So this whole thing started when I accidentally got adelagia’s hopes up about a magic reveal in the season finale. I promised her I would write a magic reveal fic if we didn’t get one, so this is simply me fulfilling my promise. I have absolutely no idea how it ended up being this long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also, I need to thank my most fantastic friend and beta - readthesubtext - for whipping this into shape and staying up until all hours of the night to do so. I’m indebted to you, my friend! Anyway, I’m a little uncertain about this one since I tried some new...stuff...so honest feedback is much appreciated! Thanks for reading :).
It’s Dangerous Business, Walking out Your Door
Most Monday mornings began in the same way, Arthur realized one day, not so long ago. He would wake up early to the obvious fact that his manservant was nowhere to be seen. He would putter around the room, sometimes getting dressed, but sometimes making a bit of an extra mess for Merlin to clean up, just because he could, and because he liked to irritate Merlin on Monday mornings. It was always so thoroughly entertaining, and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Arthur kind of liked seeing his manservant hot under the collar when they argued. Several hours later Merlin would usually show up with breakfast and a list of excuses as to why he hadn’t been there earlier (Gaius kept me up late last night; they were behind in the kitchens this morning; I accidentally slept in, you prat - don’t look so put upon). Arthur would chide him half-heartedly, Merlin would call him some disrespectful name, and Arthur would eat for a good ten minutes before finally asking Merlin if he wanted to have some food as well.
It was this predictability that helped Arthur in times of chaos and change, and it had been a particular comfort after Morgana’s disappearance.
So, when Merlin failed to show up for breakfast on this particular Monday morning, Arthur was left feeling slightly out of sorts. However, he didn’t think too much of it, seeing as how it wasn’t exactly uncommon for Merlin to be late.
Admittedly, though, all felt right in the world again when Merlin finally entered the Prince’s bedchambers that morning, shortly after breakfast had been served, and announced, “Arthur, I need to talk to you.”
Arthur briefly debated throwing back a reminder about how manservants didn’t get to make those kinds of decisions, but quickly tossed the thought aside. They had long since moved past the point where any sort of typical master/servant relationship could be expected. Truth be told, he was fine with that arrangement behind closed doors. He’d recently told Merlin that they couldn’t be friends due to the differences in social class between them, but they both knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. Merlin was the truest friend Arthur had ever had, and perhaps even cared too much for him. However, Merlin usually only started sentences in that impertinent manner when it actually was important; or at least when he believed it to be.
Arthur turned from his perch by the window to meet his manservant’s gaze. He had planned on tossing some sort of sarcastic comment back at Merlin, but one look at the other man’s face stopped that plan dead in its tracks. Merlin’s eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles surrounding them as if he hadn’t slept in days; his skin pale and almost sickly. The gleam that was usually present in his expression was noticeably absent, and his body appeared more slumped than usual, as if he were literally carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. With his clothes tussled and hanging off of his thin frame, Merlin looked, in short, awful.
“Is everything all right?” Arthur asked instead, his voice teetering on the side of cautious concern as he made his way over to Merlin.
“I wanted to ask you for a temporary leave of absence,” Merlin informed him, averting his gaze to the ground momentarily. It was an almost alarmingly subservient gesture, and something about the question and accompanying behaviour bothered Arthur.
He folded his arms casually across his chest, trying his best to push down the spike of anxiety that had just arisen in the pit of his stomach. “What for?”
There was a long pause. “I need to go to Ealdor to see my Mother,” he finally answered, gaze still focused somewhere on the floor.
Alarm bells immediately began ringing in Arthur’s head. “Why? Has something happened to Hunith?”
Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s then, widening into large saucers as he shook his head adamantly. “No, she’s fine…” He trailed off, sounding uncertain.
“But?” Arthur prodded gently. There was more there that was being left unsaid. That much was obvious.
Merlin finally began awkwardly clearing away the breakfast dishes, though it was obvious his mind was far away from the task at hand.
“I just need to go see her. It’s been almost a year since the last time I saw my Mum.” He said it with an air of finality, as if he had no intention of elaborating further, and Arthur simply nodded after a moment.
“How long do you need?”
Merlin’s hands froze and he glanced up, shooting Arthur a look of mild disbelief, as if he hadn’t expected it to be this easy. “A week. Maybe two,” he answered with a nonchalant shrug, as if it were no big deal, even though Arthur knew otherwise.
It was true that Merlin hadn’t seen his Mother in close to a year, and Arthur knew they were close to one another. What harm would a short visit do? Truthfully, Arthur hated it when Merlin wasn’t around, even though he complained about him all the time when he was there. It was why he always insisted on bringing him everywhere he went; why Merlin rode up front with him, always ate and slept nearest to him, and why he permitted his manservant to walk alongside him instead of behind him, as was customary with a traditional master/servant relationship. It was incredibly hard to converse with someone who was several paces behind you. In spite of the fact that his knights could be quite entertaining, Arthur could only ever truly be himself around Merlin. It was the only place in the world that he didn’t need to be Prince Arthur Pendragon, and could simply be Arthur the man. So the thought of losing Merlin for up to two weeks was not an appealing one. At the same time, there had been something troubling Merlin for weeks, if not months, and if this could possibly help, then he was willing to suffer the consequences. Not that he would share this sentiment with Merlin, of course.
Arthur had always been protective of those he cared for - Morgana, his Father, his knights, and the citizens of Camelot to a somewhat lesser extent. His heart was still heavy with the knowledge that he hadn’t been able to protect Morgana when she needed him most, and Arthur was not going to allow the same thing to happen to Merlin.
“All right,” he said at long last.
Merlin looked temporarily taken aback. “Really?”
Arthur supposed he should be offended that Merlin thought he wouldn’t be gracious enough to permit him to go on a leave home, but instead he simply shrugged. “You asked, and it’s been a while since you’ve seen Hunith. I’m not a heartless monster, you know?” He grinned, holding up a finger to stem any unnecessary comments from his manservant.
“Now that that’s been cleared up, have you seen the state of my chambers lately, Merlin?” Arthur asked, gesturing with a grand flourish to the room behind him.
Merlin smiled at him then, the first genuine smile he’d seen on his servant in days, if not weeks, and Arthur felt something swell within his chest. Something like affection and a fierce determination to keep Merlin safe at all costs. Arthur smiled back and fought the almost overwhelming urge to tie his manservant up in order to ensure that he remained in Arthur’s sight at all times. Except that probably wouldn’t go over too well, he figured. Instead, Arthur did the next best thing: “Well, let’s get on with it then. Do you need an invitation or something?”
* * * * *
Later that evening, as Merlin packed for his journey, he started to question whether or not he was doing the right thing. He had never been one to run from his problems, but life these days felt almost too overwhelming for him to bear. His heart ached in so many ways, sorrow filling every pore of his being until he felt as though his body was literally secreting his inner agony in a twisted physical manifestation of the misery he felt. In spite of the occasional reprieve from his thoughts and memories, every day Merlin found it harder and harder to put on a brave face and pretend that everything was all right when it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He had withdrawn from everyone save for Arthur, though even the sight of his friend did little to quell the heaviness in his heart, especially given the fact that Arthur still didn’t know about his magic. This truth weighed ever heavy on his shoulders, and Merlin sometimes wondered if he’d even be able to tell Arthur anything in the near future for fear of losing him. In many ways, Arthur was the only thing keeping his sanity intact, while simultaneously being one of the main sources for his inner turmoil. Which was why he needed to get away. He needed some perspective, some time to sort things out and get himself together again. It was only a matter of time before Arthur finally broke him, and Merlin was not in any sort of emotional state to handle such a thing at the moment.
Merlin knew that his Mother would be able to help him gain some much-needed perspective. Camelot was his home now, but Ealdor would always hold a special place in his heart, and he always found it easier to sort through his thoughts out in the country. Plus, his Mum had a right to know what had happened to his Father, and Merlin wanted the news to come from him and no one else.
A voice startled him out of his reverie. “Merlin, my boy, why are you packing?”
Merlin turned suddenly, surprised to hear Gaius’ voice from his bedroom door. Merlin had been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed his mentor’s return.
“I’m going to visit Ealdor and my Mother for a couple of weeks,” he replied, returning his attention to the bag he was stuffing full of clothes and other items.
“Does Arthur know you’re leaving?” Gaius asked, taking a few more steps into the room. Merlin pushed down a sigh, feeling slightly (though mostly irrationally) irritated with the question. What did Gaius assume he was doing, running away?
He took a deep, calming breath before responding. “Of course he does. We spoke about it this morning.”
Gaius grunted his acknowledgement but remained otherwise silent. After several minutes of silence from that corner of the room, Merlin assumed that Gaius had gone back to work and proceeded to shove the rest of his belongings into his bags, doing his best to avoid thinking about anything in particular. Except that it was easier said than done. Merlin was nearly finished when his gaze fell upon the dragon that Balinor had carved for him, and without thinking, he snatched up the carving, running his fingers over it reverently. It was both the first and the last remaining connection he had with his Father, and the injustice of it all hurt like a stab wound directly to his heart. Merlin bent forward, placing his hands on the bed in front of him and splaying his fingers between the rough fabric in an attempt to diminish the overwhelming sense of sadness that had suddenly befallen him.
“Merlin, are you okay?” Gaius asked softly, and Merlin started, not having realised that the other man was still in the room. Merlin instinctively angled his back towards the older man to prevent himself from being seen and, squeezing his eyes shut, concentrated on willing away the sorrow that was threatening to choke him.
“No,” he admitted honestly a few moments later. “I’m not.” And he continued to pack.
* * * * *
Arthur was not usually one to suffer from insomnia, but in times of great stress he was known to have experienced such unpleasantries. At age five, Arthur’s first dog had passed away, leaving him in tears for the better part of the day (until his Father informed him that Princes did not show such weaknesses and insisted that he stop crying immediately). He hadn’t slept that night. At the tender age of eight, Arthur’s curiosity finally got the better of him and he stealthily followed the Knights of Camelot on one of their top-secret missions, hoping to determine what they got up to outside of the castle walls. His enjoyment rapidly diminished, however, when a bunch of bandits chose that particular morning to lay siege to the city, and Arthur was forced to look on in horror as one of his Father’s loyal soldiers was slain right in front of him. He hadn’t slept for two whole nights that time around. One time, at age twelve, he’d gotten into a dreadful fight with Morgana, to the point where she decided that she would be better off living on her own than staying in Camelot with such an insufferable, arrogant arse of a Prince. Morgana had run away that very day and they hadn’t found her until the following morning. Needless to say, he hadn’t slept that night either, in spite of being forbidden from aiding in the search.
In the past couple of months, however, Arthur had experienced insomnia at least once or twice a week, sometimes for more than one consecutive night. After he’d sent Merlin away from Camelot, after Gaius’ imprisonment and near execution, after the incident with Morgause and his Mother, after Morgana’s disappearance, and finally after his final battle with the dragon - all of these events had inspired sleepless nights, to the point where Arthur was beginning to get used to functioning on minimal amounts of rest.
His only reprieve had occurred approximately a week ago, when Merlin accidentally fell asleep at the end of his bed, and Arthur hadn’t the heart to wake him. After several long moments of contemplation, Arthur eventually decided that Merlin could stay, placed an extra blanket over his sleeping form and carefully crawled into bed, taking extreme care not to disturb Merlin’s slumber. When Arthur awoke the next morning, Merlin was gone, but it had been the best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks, even if he was loath to ruminate over the reasons why.
All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t sleep now, and there was no specific rhyme or reason to explain why. Other than the fact that Merlin was leaving tomorrow morning, and the thought of having to face the daily grind without his incompetent, frustrating, though inexplicably endearing manservant for the better part of a fortnight left him with a dull ache in his chest. That was obviously not the reason for his current state of sleeplessness, though, he reasoned quite effectively. And there was definitely not the added element of concern for Merlin’s own mental state these days. He had witnessed Merlin frown, and seen his tear-filled eyes more times in the last few months than he cared to experience in a lifetime. Possibly the most frustrating aspect of it all was the fact that Merlin wouldn’t let him in - wouldn’t even let him help. It made no logical sense in Arthur’s eyes. Did the man not trust him? Yet when he considered everything that had happened over the past year, Arthur supposed that he hadn’t exactly been the best friend to Merlin all the time. Still...he’d defended Merlin against the Witchfinder and his Father, stood up for him in court, broken the law, and disobeyed direct orders from his Father in order to protect him. Hell, Arthur had even taken to joining Merlin on the floor of his chamber when he felt the situation warranted the action. Not that he thought this was some outstanding feat in and of itself, but Arthur had yet to meet a noble who would sit on the floor voluntarily, never mind for the sake of a servant. Did Merlin not understand that there was nothing Arthur would not do for him, in spite of his sometimes contradictory behaviour? It was a puzzling and somewhat bothersome line of thought.
After far too many minutes spent contemplating these very things, Arthur decided to at least make himself productive if he was not going to be getting any sleep tonight. Standing, he headed down to the Great Hall to gather some reports and complaints to review in preparation for the council meeting tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps he’d be able to get some much-needed rest during that meeting, Arthur thought wryly to himself.
* * * * *
In the end, Arthur eventually fell asleep for an hour or two, if the drool stain on the table by his head was any indication. However, he did not feel the least bit rested and was still wide-awake before the first signs of dawn even became visible. So Arthur did what he always did in these situations - he paced back and forth in his rooms until that got boring. Then, once the sun had just begun to rise, he dressed himself with the intention of going to the training grounds to get in some early morning practice.
Arthur was promptly distracted, however, when he noticed someone in the distance heading towards the stables wearing a distinct blue shirt and red neckerchief. Merlin. Arthur veered off course and headed towards the direction of the stables instead, taking care to ensure Merlin wasn’t aware that he was being followed or watched. He watched for a few minutes as Merlin began to prepare his horse to ride out. Well, it wasn’t technically Merlin’s horse as Arthur wasn’t officially allowed to just give his manservant something so extravagant. But unofficially it belonged to him; Merlin was the only one who rode the thing. Arthur had made it quite clear fairly early on that the horse must always be on hand for Merlin’s use in case there was ever an emergency and he needed to ride out with Arthur, and thus far no one had raised any qualms about the arrangement.
Consequently, Merlin hadn’t actually asked permission to take the horse with him to Ealdor, though Arthur found it oddly comforting that he’d made the assumption on his own. Of course Arthur would have granted him permission to take the horse, as walking would have added several extra days travel time (days Arthur certainly did not want to spend without him), but Arthur knew that he would have sacked any of his previous servants for such a bold action. Arthur liked to believe that this change in his reaction showed personal growth in his character, but if he was honest with himself, it was more likely a product of the fact that he let Merlin get away with far more than propriety dictated. Why that was, however, was another story all together.
“Leaving without saying good-bye?” Arthur queried after he decided he’d kept silent long enough, sauntering casually up to Merlin with a single brow quirked.
Merlin jumped slightly from where he was preparing his horse but turned towards Arthur’s voice immediately, a soft smile on his face. “I’m surprised you’re up this early,” he stated pointedly, but not actually answering the question that had been asked.
“I woke up early,” Arthur lied. Merlin didn’t need to know the reason why he was awake, simply that he was.
Merlin shrugged and continued to finish securing the saddle on his horse, seemingly accepting the explanation at face value. “Well thanks for coming to see me off then,” he said finally.
Arthur watched Merlin work, nimble fingers flying over buckles and belts with ease.
“Merlin, wait,” Arthur called out impulsively, as his manservant was about to mount his horse, and Merlin turned to glance quizzically behind him.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, or what specifically propelled him into action, but something felt right about it. Arthur strode towards Merlin and before he could change his mind, pulled his manservant into his arms. At first he felt Merlin tense up - which was understandable, considering the fact that Arthur was not in the habit of hugging his manservant. After a few moments, however, he seemed to relax into the embrace, arms coming up to rest against Arthur’s back as he lightly squeezed back. Arthur wanted to say something, anything, to Merlin to explain what he was doing, but there was a voice in the back of his head that instructed him to remain silent; that now wasn’t the time. So, instead, Arthur hugged Merlin tightly, probably holding onto him longer than was strictly necessary, but knowing that they both needed this more than they were likely even aware.
When they finally pulled apart, Merlin was smiling, but there was still something haunting about his eyes. It was the same look he’d seen many times over the past couple of months, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to wash away that expression forever. It made him anxious; worried. And even more importantly, the sorrow he saw in Merlin’s eyes was somehow reflected back onto Arthur, filling him with an overwhelming need to protect Merlin from whatever demons he was fighting. Except that he couldn’t protect Merlin when the man wouldn’t let him in, and if he were being honest with himself, Arthur would admit that it hurt him just a bit that Merlin didn’t feel he could trust Arthur with whatever this was.
Realising that Merlin was waiting for him to say something, Arthur clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, staring at him intently. “Take care of yourself, all right?”
Merlin eyed him, questions swimming beneath the surface, but he simply nodded and smiled tightly. “I will,” he promised. Arthur squeezed his shoulder gently in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and nodded as well, releasing his manservant from his grip. Merlin mounted his steed and cast one last look at Arthur before heading in the direction of Ealdor.
Arthur stood and watched the horse trot away, waiting until he could no longer see Merlin at all before quietly heading out to the training grounds with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
* * * * *
Travel home went a lot quicker than Merlin had originally anticipated, and he was grateful for once to be traveling on his own. Even though Arthur was a far more experienced rider, trips always took longer when he was around, simply because they needed to stop more often, and because their tendency to argue often slowed progress.
Ealdor was, by all appearances, exactly the same as it had been the last time Merlin had been home just over a year ago. It was both a comfort and a shock to find that so little had truly changed. He had called Camelot his home for more than two years now, and if there was one thing that could be said about the city, it was that things rarely stayed the same for more than a week or two. It was a shock to the system, without a doubt, but at the same time, it provided Merlin with the exact sense of stability that he was so desperately craving. It felt like eons ago that he and Will were boys causing all kinds of mischief in town and taking care of their respective families. So much had happened to Merlin over these past couple of years that it felt almost as if he’d lived another life or two in that time.
Stopping at the outskirts of town, Merlin paused to breathe in the fresh air around him. He found his mind drifting back to his Father, and couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever stood on this very spot, so many years ago. Years he’d spent hiding from Uther’s tyranny and war against invisible enemies. It was enough of a thought to send his mind spiralling into the throes of righteous fury once again at the injustice of his Father’s fate. His Father who had only loved and cared for the dragons, hunted like an animal by Uther Pendragon for being born with magical abilities. It was no more a crime than punishing someone for being born with brown hair or green eyes. Uther had been the one to blame for his Father’s exile, as well as his eventual death, and this knowledge hurt no less now than it had upon the first discovery of such facts.
“Merlin?”
His head snapped up in surprise, shattering his dreary thought process, to meet the smiling eyes of his Mother. He’d sent word of his impending visit, but there was really no way to know if the message had reached her prior to his actual arrival.
“Mum,” he whispered as she enveloped him in a warm embrace, wrapping her arms firmly around his neck. There was nothing more than the slightest lilt to his voice, but it seemed to be enough to pique her curiosity.
“Are you okay Merlin?” she asked, pulling back to stare at him intently, in the way that only Mothers could.
Merlin had planned on getting into the house and at least settling in before allowing himself to unload onto his Mother, but standing here with her loving, concerned and accepting (always accepting) face trained on him, he found he was barely able to maintain composure long enough to choke out, “No, I’m not. Everything is a complete mess, Mum, and I don’t know what to do.”
* * * * *
Hunith ushered Merlin into the house and began to make tea, but eventually abandoned the action when she realized her son needed her attention more. With a saddened sigh, she sat down on a stool across from Merlin and simply listened to his story, every once in a while patting his arm or placing a steadying hand on his shaking knee. She had never seen her boy so distraught in all her life, and it was really quite alarming in its intensity.
Merlin told her about how things had been quite tense between himself and Arthur after the questing beast, especially after Arthur sacked him in favour of a common thief. He continued to speak of how Arthur had somehow managed to fall in love with Gwen, practically overnight, and how in spite of his claims to the contrary, Merlin had been quite concerned about this radical and unexplained shift. Hunith suspected there was more there than he was willing to admit at the moment, but she knew that now was not an appropriate time for that discussion.
The story of how Gaius had nearly been executed for sorcery sent a wave of genuine fear through Hunith for the first time since sending Merlin away. If Uther was so willing to sentence Gaius, a close friend, to death then he would not even blink an eye at killing her son. The thought flooded her veins with near paralysing fear, and she wondered if perhaps she’d made the wrong decision after all. The only thing holding her back from voicing this concern was, again, the fragility of her son at the moment.
“Merlin, maybe you should take a break?” Hunith suggested softy at this point, reaching out and rubbing the back of his arm soothingly.
But Merlin shook his head, a determined look on his face. He reached up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears that had managed to slip past his cheeks and let out a shaky, mirthless laugh. “I can’t, Mum. We’re just getting to the good part.” The sorrow in his voice was not surprising, but the anger was, and Hunith wished more than anything in the world that she could just erase all of these terrible experiences from her son’s mind.
“All right then, if you’re sure,” she said at long last, giving him an encouraging smile.
He did not return the gesture. Merlin continued with his story, telling Hunith about the journey Morgeause had sent Arthur and himself on and the new details that had been revealed about Arthur’s Mother in the process. His voice broke when he spoke of having to convince Arthur that the sorcerer had been lying about the circumstances surrounding Ygraine’s death, and how Arthur had renewed his position against magic at that point. The tears started to flow when he told her about Freya, and by the time he recounted what had happened with Morgana, he sounded so exhausted that he was barely able to speak.
It was then that Hunith decided he’d had enough for now, and that he needed to take a break and eat something before he passed out. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through,” she told him, wrapping him in a warm embrace,which he easily accepted. In spite of Merlin’s size, he felt like her little boy again, and she fought down her own wave of tears as she held him. “But I think we should stop, my boy. You can tell me the rest later.”
Merlin pulled away from her swiftly then, staring at her across the gap between them through tear-stained eyes and shook his head. “No, we can’t stop yet. The last part of the story has to do with my Father... Balinor, the last dragon lord.”
This time Merlin was the one who reached out to steady Hunith.
* * * * *
Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up here, in all honesty. He’d spent most of the morning working his knights to death. Or at least as close to death as he was willing to allow them to get at the moment. After losing so many of his seasoned knights battling the dragon, Arthur had been putting the newer recruits through the wringer. Once practice had wrapped up, Arthur found himself up in his chambers, armour being removed by some new and overly enthusiastic servant who was all yes, Sire and right away, Sire. Not so long ago he would have revelled in such obedience and reverence - seeing as how he was a Prince and deserved such respect - but now he just found it bloody irritating. Said servant then proceeded to prepare his bath, serve him lunch, and tidy up his rooms until they were practically spotless. He did everything to near perfection, behaving in a polite and respectful manner, only speaking when spoken to and addressing Arthur as “Sire” or “my Lord.” Which of course only reminded him of his former useless manservant, whom he absolutely did not miss even a tiny bit. Except that he perhaps did, and more often than not over the past week, he found his thoughts drifting between Merlin and Morgana, although, embarrassingly enough, the scale was tipped in Merlin’s favour.
Somewhere along the line, Arthur determined that he needed to clear his head and decided to go for a walk. How he found himself currently in Gaius’ workshop, staring determinedly at Merlin’s bedroom door (as if he would magically appear if Arthur just glared long enough), was truly and sincerely beyond his comprehension. But here he was, all the same. The physician was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best anyway. Arthur had absolutely no reason to be here and no justifiable explanation to provide to Gaius should he show up at any moment, which was quite possible now that he thought about it.
Logically Arthur knew that he should just leave and take a stroll through Camelot, or go for a ride outside of the city, or do anything else as long as he didn’t remain here.
The sound of the door swinging open abruptly halted Arthur’s internal debate and he had to muster every ounce of willpower he was able to draw on in order to prevent himself from letting out an unmanly and un-Princely squawk.
“Sire?” he heard Gaius ask, a tone of worry in his voice, as he stepped into the workshop and shut the door behind him. “Are you all right?”
Arthur plastered on his best smile and nodded. “Yes, Gaius, I’m quite fine, thank you.”
Gaius shot him a vaguely curious look and raised a single eyebrow in question. Which promptly reminded Arthur that he probably needed to come up with an explanation as to why he was in Gaius’ chambers if he was perfectly fine.
Before he really had time to think it through, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I ran out of salve for my shoulder and wanted to see if you had any more.”
The expression that fell upon Gaius’ face was nothing short of utter confusion, and had Arthur not been in the middle of trying to bluff his way out of an embarrassing situation, he might have laughed. “You mean the same salve that I gave you yesterday?”
Arthur bit back a cough. He’d kind of, sort of, completely forgotten about that in his moment of panic. “Oh yes. Right. Must have slipped my mind. Pardon the intrusion, Gaius,” Arthur offered lamely, strolling towards the door in an attempt to make a hasty retreat.
But he was stopped by Gaius calling out his name. Huffing out a nervous breath, Arthur turned to face Gaius with all the poise and charm he could muster. “Yes?”
“There was…nothing else you wished to speak with me about?” came the gentle inquiry after a couple of silent moments. Gaius had to know that Arthur was bluffing - it was the most ridiculous excuse Arthur had possibly ever employed in his life - but for his part, he sounded nothing short of genuinely concerned.
Still, in spite of the sheer stupidity of his bluff, Arthur was not willing to lose face over this any more than he already had by admitting to anything. “No, that was all,” he told Gaius, trying to sound confident.
And then he did the second most idiotic thing he’d done in quite a while. Arthur’s eyes flickered, almost unconsciously, over to Merlin’s bedroom door for the briefest of moments, but as soon as Gaius’ gaze roamed towards that direction as well, Arthur knew that he’d been found out.
When their eyes met again, Gaius smiled warmly at him, almost knowingly. But there was no judgement or condescension there, only compassion. “I thought that perhaps his Highness had been having difficulty sleeping and wanted something to help? You’ve seemed very tired as of late, Sire, especially with all the troubles that have befallen Camelot in recent months and I thought that perhaps you wanted a tonic.”
Arthur just stared dumbly at Gaius for a few moments, attempting to process the rather simple words that had just come out of his mouth and then figure out how to properly respond to them. “Um, yes, actually,” Arthur managed to spit out as soon as he was able to form words again. “I haven’t been sleeping as well as I would like,” he admitted.
Gaius nodded once in satisfaction and began rummaging around the room, seemingly to prepare the tonic for him. “I’ll make one up for you right away, Sire. I will bring it by later on this evening, but feel free to come back at any point if you’d like more.” Gaius tossed him one last knowing smile as Arthur headed out of the room, before setting about his work.
* * * * *
In the first two weeks he was home, Merlin spent a great deal of time talking to his Mother about Balinor. He found that he craved any piece of information about his Father that she could offer. Where he came from, what he was like, the things he was interested in, and anything else she knew about him. He knew it was hard for his Mother at times to speak about her former love, but in spite of this, she readily shared any knowledge she had of the man who would have been her husband. As a young child, Merlin never understood why his Mother avoided all questions he’d asked about his Father, until finally one day he simply stopped asking. Merlin always assumed that there was some particular reason why his Mum never mentioned his Dad or spoke about him, though Merlin had always assumed it was likely because he’d died long ago. Or because she didn’t think he deserved to know the truth about him. It was only now that Merlin was able to develop a true appreciation for the choices his Mum had made back then, and how she’d really been protecting him instead of trying to hurt him by keeping his Father’s identity a secret.
A few days after Merlin’s arrival, his Mother had brought him out to a particular patch of forest just behind his home.
“This was a place that your Father liked to sit while he carved,” she’d told him, pointing to an old log that lay on the ground amidst the brush. “He said that it was a good place to think.”
Merlin started going out to the log every single day. Sometimes he simply sat and thought, other times he practiced his magic, and sometimes Merlin talked to his Father about anything and everything. There was something oddly comforting about being in the same place that had once been important to Balinor, as if Merlin was able to connect with his Father, in spite of the fact that he was no longer alive.
“Hi Father,” Merlin stated shyly, kicking softly at the ground with his boot and staring at nothing in particular. “I hope you’re okay, wherever you are.”
At first it felt sort of awkward to be talking out loud to nothing but the air, rocks, trees, and bushes in his direct line of sight. However, the more he did it, the easier it became, and there were times when he almost felt like his Father was there, listening and comforting and supporting him. Merlin spoke of Camelot, Gaius and Gwen. He talked about Morgana and Freya, tearfully expositing their stories in a painfully honest manner, as he’d never been able to do before. Merlin shared his misgivings about the Great Dragon, Uther, and various enemies he’d had to deal with over the past couple of years. But mostly he spoke about Arthur, and about his magic.
“I wish you were here right now, actually,” he admitted softly. “It would make things so much easier. I need to go back to Camelot now. Arthur’s expecting me. But I don’t know how I can ever face him again without breaking down and telling him everything. Telling him could get me killed, but not telling him is slowly killing me too. I don’t know what to do.”
There were times when Merlin thought that maybe his Father actually was still there with him somehow, watching and listening. It wasn’t something he could quite explain, nor was there any actual physical evidence to prove his point. It was simply a feeling that Merlin had, almost as if he could sense his Father’s presence. Sometimes when he spoke, he felt a sense of warmth wash over him, and it was comforting to think that perhaps it wasn’t just the sun, even if he may have been deluding himself.
“It’s just that Arthur’s...well, he’s really damn important to me and despite all I’ve lost, I don’t think I can imagine living a life without him in it. The prat is a complete arse most of the time, but he’s a good man, and a good friend. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for him. The problem is that he trusts me completely now, and I don’t know how to tell him without betraying that trust forever. It’s all just a mess.”
Merlin fingered a stone on the ground, turning it around in his hand and watching the way it shone in the light. “I guess I just want to know that this whole thing won’t end in disaster.”
The forest remained uncharacteristically silent, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was a hopeful or ominous sign.
* * * * *
Three weeks after he’d first arrived in Ealdor, Merlin found himself kneading dough for bread he was learning to make and thinking about Arthur, not for the first time. He wondered what Arthur was doing at that very moment in time in Camelot. It was mid afternoon, so he’d probably just finished eating lunch and was likely going to train his knights. He’d been pushing them quite hard as of late, to compensate for the deaths of those involved in the fight with the Great Dragon. Of course, it was also possible that Arthur was on patrol, or stuck in a particularly boring meeting. Merlin just hoped that no tragedy had befallen Camelot since he’d left, and felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that he wasn’t there now, as had originally been expected. He sent a letter to Gaius a few days ago to inform his mentor that he was all right, but wouldn’t be coming home just yet. A similar letter had consequently not been sent to Arthur, even though a part of him had wanted to. Merlin also wondered if Arthur thought about him at all, if he missed his presence. Was the Prince going about his daily routine happily, with a new servant actually providing competent service? Or was he worried about him, wondering where the hell Merlin was and what he was doing? Lastly, he wondered what would happen when his magical secret was finally revealed. A thousand different scenarios played through his mind on an endless loop, but none of them ended with things going well. It was truly a terrifying thought.
Merlin was only vaguely aware of the sound of a door opening, but after a few minutes of silence he thought he might have just imagined the whole thing.
“You seem troubled,” Hunith remarked quietly after a moment’s pause.
Merlin glanced up distractedly, noticing for the first time that he’d stopped kneading the dough beneath his hands several minutes ago, if not longer. “I’m fine,” he lied, knowing full well that his Mother would see right through him in a heartbeat, but pushing down his feelings had almost become a natural instinct, he’d become so accustomed to doing it.
She walked over to him and placed a soothing hand on his back. “What’s bothering you, my boy?”
“It’s nothing,” he breathed out slowly, averting his gaze carefully. It was a losing battle, he knew, but he didn’t really feel like talking right now. He was tired of going around in circles when there was no resolution on the horizon; when every solution seemed to create more problems.
“You wouldn’t look so forlorn if it were nothing, Merlin. Perhaps talking about it will help.”
“No, it won’t help. I’ve talked this over enough as it is. There’s nothing left to say.” He resumed kneading the bread beneath his fingers, already fighting back the tears that threatened to spill forth. Perhaps Arthur really was right when he called Merlin a girl. He’d spent far too much time crying in the last several months.
Hunith remained silent, rubbing his back gently as only a Mother could do, before turning away from him and moving across the room. Merlin swallowed a sigh of relief and returned his attention to the bread he was poorly attempting to make. Five minutes passed, and then another five, as he finished with the dough. Merlin was beginning to think that he was getting out of this conversation after all, when his Mother finally spoke up.
“This is about Arthur, isn’t it?” she finally asked, and Merlin had to admit that he was impressed that she’d been able to hold out that long.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he tried, running a hand through his hair.
“Did something happen between you that you didn’t tell me about?”
Merlin let out a huff of frustration, sitting down on the stool across from his Mother. “No, Mum. Things are fine. Better than ever, really. Except that it’s all a horrible lie...”
“Don’t say that, Merlin.”
“But it’s true.”
“Merlin,” Hunith stated firmly, staring at him until he finally met her gaze. “Tell me, do you care about Arthur?”
“Of course I do.”
“Would you willingly serve him, regardless of your magic?”
Merlin paused briefly before admitting, “I’d do anything for Arthur.”
“And does Arthur care for you?”
Merlin really had to think about that one. Sure, Arthur seemed to like him well enough, but that was Merlin as his incompetent manservant, not Merlin the incredibly powerful warlock. Who knew what his perspective would be if he knew the real Merlin. Eventually he decided to go with, “He’s said as much, so I suppose he must."
“Then why, my boy, would you ever think that it’s all a lie? Would your affection or dedication or loyalty to Arthur change if he knew about your magic, or if you had no magic at all?”
“No.” There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice this time when he answered.
Hunith smiled knowingly, and reached over to take his hand in both of hers. “So, then, why would you assume the opposite to be true of Arthur?” And Merlin had to admit that the argument was logical enough, except that Arthur and logic didn’t exactly go together in the best of times, never mind when it came to magic.
“You don’t understand,” Merlin told her with a heavy sigh. He appreciated what his Mum was trying to do, but she didn’t realize that it was far more complicated than how she was presenting the situation.
“Then explain it to me.”
“He hugged me before I left to come and see you.” Merlin sounded distraught over this piece of information, though it was clear that his Mother did not understand why.
“That means that he cares for you, my boy. It’s not a bad thing,” she murmured soothingly, reaching out to pat his arm.
Merlin just shook his head. “Yes it is. Arthur likes me. He gets concerned about me when I act strangely. He trusts me, Mum. I could be running around lying and stealing from him and he’d still stand up for me in court and defend me against his Father. His Father. Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot.”
Hunith’s face twisted into a semi-frown as she watched her son. “I still don’t understand why this is bad though, Merlin. You’re fortunate to have Arthur’s loyalty and trust.”
“Because,” he cried out, throwing his hands up in demonstration. “When he finds out how I’ve lied to him all this time… and the things I’ve done over the past several months… He’ll hate me for sure. It’s so much worse now that I have his complete trust, because it will just be that much harder to earn it back.” Merlin sighed heavily, running a hand over his face and bit his lip. “I don’t know what I’d do without Arthur, Mum. He’s an arrogant prat and yet my best friend in spite of it all, but he’s so much more than just that…” He’s my whole world and I can’t bear the thought of being without him, Merlin mentally finished, but he didn’t have the heart to put the sentiment into words. Never mind the fact that it was terribly embarrassing.
“I just...can’t keep my magic from him any longer,” he finally finished resignedly, mentally and physically deflating. “Do you have any idea what Arthur has done for me this year, Mum? It goes above and beyond what any normal person would do for a friend, never mind what a Prince would do for a servant. He’s going to feel so betrayed and I don’t know what to do.”
Merlin buried his face in his hands, closing his eyes as the weight of the implication hung heavily over his head. There was no way out of this mess that didn’t end in disaster, and Merlin was not looking forward to facing that reality.
* * * * *
If Arthur had to sit through one more land dispute, or listen to one more person argue about how so-and-so had stolen their most valued cow, he thought he might explode from bottled up frustration. There was truly only so much one person could handle, and Arthur had reached his breaking point. Of course, as the future King of Camelot, it was important that Arthur be in attendance to help settle these arguments as a sign of good faith to the people, so they knew that their future King cared for their well-being. Which he did. Except that Arthur had other thoughts weighing on his mind that made concentration on the peasants’ arguments next to impossible.
In the past there were times when Morgana had joined the council at Uther’s request, in spite of her many protestations against being forced to sit through “all those petty squabbles,” which many of them happened to be. Arthur had enjoyed those meetings more than the others, if for no other reason than the fact that he liked to see Morgana’s thinly veiled irritation at being stuck in that room with no real authority to provide thoughts or an opinion on the cases presented. There were also times when he would catch her eye across the table and they’d share a look, which would often spawn silent conversations (or sometimes wars) between the two of them until one relented and broke eye contact. The thought of Morgana sent another spike of worry through him, and he wondered - not for the first time - if she was okay out there, wherever she currently was.
Arthur sighed heavily, but tried to look attentive all the same. The last thing he needed was the King on his case.
A few minutes later, Arthur found his thoughts drifting once again, this time to Merlin, who had now been gone from Camelot for just shy of four weeks. If not for Gaius, Arthur might have already gone out in search of his manservant, wondering if Merlin had been attacked by bandits or taken hostage by insurgents. Knowing he was safe was a comfort, though only barely. The fact that Merlin had been gone almost twice as long as he’d originally intended, coupled with his fragile mental state upon his departure, made Arthur question whether or not he could truly expect Merlin to ever return.
“Arthur, what do you think?”
Uther’s booming voice interrupted his reverie quite effectively and Arthur glanced across the table at his Father, wondering what the hell they were discussing at the moment. “Excuse me?”
“I asked what your thoughts were on the land dispute. What do you think is the best solution to this problem?” Uther shot him an expectant look, as if he were waiting for some great pearls of wisdom from his son. The son who hadn’t paid any attention at all to the current claim and had instead been lost in thought over his missing step-sister and absent manservant. Not that Uther was aware of this, of course.
Arthur swallowed tightly and decided that the most graceful solution to this situation was to bluff his way out of it and pretend as though he’d been listening the whole time. There weren’t exactly any other feasible options that Arthur could employ at the moment, and it would look terribly uncouth for him to admit that he’d spent the last twenty minutes daydreaming instead of listening to both parties put forth their complaint.
He glanced between both men, brain working overtime to try and pull any relevant information - anything he may have accidentally absorbed simply by being in the same room as them - that could be even remotely helpful in coming up with a solution. Unfortunately, Arthur could not recall a single detail about either, save for their names and their general area of origin.
“Well,” he started, hoping he sounded far more confident than he felt, “It seems to me that either you split the land in half, or you both will have to share what’s there between you.”
Uther stared at Arthur for several long moments, eyes boring deeply into his with a frown plastered to his face, and Arthur was almost positive that he’d said the entirely wrong thing. He hadn’t dared even chancing a glance at the two men, for fear of what their expressions would hold.
Arthur was about to recant his statement when Uther nodded at him, his frown dissolving into a semi-smile. “I think that is a reasonable and fair solution to the problem. You’ve actually made the whole issue quite simple. Fine work, son,” he told him.
Arthur blinked and simply allowed himself to smile in spite of his obvious confusion. That had been close. Too bloody close for Arthur’s liking.
* * * * *
That evening, Arthur went to see Gaius. This time, however, he cut straight to the point.
“Is he coming back?”
Gaius, for his part, decided to forgo his typical clueless act this time around, and for that Arthur was grateful. “He made no indication that he wasn’t returning, Sire. But I can’t say for certain, of course.”
Arthur huffed out a breath and ran a hand loosely through his hair. “What’s going on with Merlin, Gaius? There’s been something... For months now, there’s been something eating away at him. I’ve tried asking him to tell me, I’ve tried forcing him to tell me, hell I’ve even tried bribing him. Nothing’s worked.”
Gaius nodded thoughtfully. “And why do you think that something’s wrong in the first place?”
Arthur stared at the older man for several moments, blinking in surprise at the absurdity of the question. “I may not be the most thoughtful or observant person who ever walked the earth, Gaius, but I know Merlin, and I know when something is different. He seems almost....miserable these days and I don’t have a clue as to the explanation for his change in behaviour.”
“Merlin’s a complex individual,” Gaius started, and Arthur snorted in spite of himself. It wasn’t that he thought Merlin was a simple peasant, because goodness knows he’d already proven that to be false time and time again. However, ‘complex’ was most definitely not a word Arthur would typically associate with Merlin, though he supposed in some ways it was an apt description.
The physician shot him a warning look, but carried on. “I cannot claim to know what it is that you think is troubling Merlin, but even if I did Sire, you understand that I wouldn’t be able to break that confidence.”
Arthur nodded. “Nor would I expect you to,” he agreed.
“You can’t just let him deal with his misery, if that’s even what it is?”
“No! Because when Merlin’s miserable, I’m miserable.”
Gaius froze, staring at Arthur with a mixture of genuine surprise and something like amused affection. Arthur’s eyes widened immediately when the implication of what he’d just said sunk in, and fumbled to clarify the statement. “I mean, when he’s miserable, then his work gets even shoddier, which naturally impacts me, and therefore tends to make my life miserable as well,” Arthur offered lamely, hoping that he’d clarified the egregious error of his previous words but knowing, deep down, that neither one of them believed the false explanation.
Still, Arthur’s slip of the tongue was neither here nor there at the moment. They had more important matters to attend to, such as whether or not Merlin actually intended to return to Camelot.
“Look, Gaius, I just need to know if he’s coming back.”
“I wish I could tell you the answer to that question, Sire, but I cannot.”
“Then what would be your best guess?” Arthur pressed further, folding his arms across his chest and waiting patiently for the older man’s response.
Gaius seemed to thoughtfully consider the question before finally answering, “Merlin considers Camelot his home now, and he has many people here whom he cares deeply for. But while it seems unlikely that he wouldn’t return, I can’t say for sure that I believe he will come back. Sire.”
And in that moment, Arthur made a snap decision. If Merlin was hiding from Arthur for some reason, if he was planning to remain in Ealdor instead of returning to Camelot, then Arthur wasn’t just going to sit back and take it. He’d invested too much of his time...his energy...his loyalty...his heart...in Merlin to simply allow him to walk away. Not now; not ever.
“Can you do me a favour, Gaius?” Arthur started, and a plan mentally formed in his head as he spoke. “Tomorrow morning can you go to my Father and tell him that I went on a hunting trip for a few days?”
Gaius quirked a single eyebrow, his forehead wrinkling thoughtfully. “What are you planning, Sire?”
Arthur smiled. “If Merlin won’t come back here, then I guess I need to go and get him myself.” And with that, he headed back to his chamber to begin the preparations for his journey.
Part Two
Author: AccordingToMel
Summary: In many ways, Arthur was the only thing keeping his sanity intact, while simultaneously being one of the main sources for his inner turmoil. Which was why he needed to get away. He needed some perspective, some time to sort things out and get himself together again. It was only a matter of time before Arthur finally broke him.
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Spoilers: Everything until the end of 2x13
Word Count: 17,778
Disclaimer: Ha! I wish!
Author’s note: So this whole thing started when I accidentally got adelagia’s hopes up about a magic reveal in the season finale. I promised her I would write a magic reveal fic if we didn’t get one, so this is simply me fulfilling my promise. I have absolutely no idea how it ended up being this long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also, I need to thank my most fantastic friend and beta - readthesubtext - for whipping this into shape and staying up until all hours of the night to do so. I’m indebted to you, my friend! Anyway, I’m a little uncertain about this one since I tried some new...stuff...so honest feedback is much appreciated! Thanks for reading :).
It’s Dangerous Business, Walking out Your Door
Most Monday mornings began in the same way, Arthur realized one day, not so long ago. He would wake up early to the obvious fact that his manservant was nowhere to be seen. He would putter around the room, sometimes getting dressed, but sometimes making a bit of an extra mess for Merlin to clean up, just because he could, and because he liked to irritate Merlin on Monday mornings. It was always so thoroughly entertaining, and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Arthur kind of liked seeing his manservant hot under the collar when they argued. Several hours later Merlin would usually show up with breakfast and a list of excuses as to why he hadn’t been there earlier (Gaius kept me up late last night; they were behind in the kitchens this morning; I accidentally slept in, you prat - don’t look so put upon). Arthur would chide him half-heartedly, Merlin would call him some disrespectful name, and Arthur would eat for a good ten minutes before finally asking Merlin if he wanted to have some food as well.
It was this predictability that helped Arthur in times of chaos and change, and it had been a particular comfort after Morgana’s disappearance.
So, when Merlin failed to show up for breakfast on this particular Monday morning, Arthur was left feeling slightly out of sorts. However, he didn’t think too much of it, seeing as how it wasn’t exactly uncommon for Merlin to be late.
Admittedly, though, all felt right in the world again when Merlin finally entered the Prince’s bedchambers that morning, shortly after breakfast had been served, and announced, “Arthur, I need to talk to you.”
Arthur briefly debated throwing back a reminder about how manservants didn’t get to make those kinds of decisions, but quickly tossed the thought aside. They had long since moved past the point where any sort of typical master/servant relationship could be expected. Truth be told, he was fine with that arrangement behind closed doors. He’d recently told Merlin that they couldn’t be friends due to the differences in social class between them, but they both knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. Merlin was the truest friend Arthur had ever had, and perhaps even cared too much for him. However, Merlin usually only started sentences in that impertinent manner when it actually was important; or at least when he believed it to be.
Arthur turned from his perch by the window to meet his manservant’s gaze. He had planned on tossing some sort of sarcastic comment back at Merlin, but one look at the other man’s face stopped that plan dead in its tracks. Merlin’s eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles surrounding them as if he hadn’t slept in days; his skin pale and almost sickly. The gleam that was usually present in his expression was noticeably absent, and his body appeared more slumped than usual, as if he were literally carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. With his clothes tussled and hanging off of his thin frame, Merlin looked, in short, awful.
“Is everything all right?” Arthur asked instead, his voice teetering on the side of cautious concern as he made his way over to Merlin.
“I wanted to ask you for a temporary leave of absence,” Merlin informed him, averting his gaze to the ground momentarily. It was an almost alarmingly subservient gesture, and something about the question and accompanying behaviour bothered Arthur.
He folded his arms casually across his chest, trying his best to push down the spike of anxiety that had just arisen in the pit of his stomach. “What for?”
There was a long pause. “I need to go to Ealdor to see my Mother,” he finally answered, gaze still focused somewhere on the floor.
Alarm bells immediately began ringing in Arthur’s head. “Why? Has something happened to Hunith?”
Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s then, widening into large saucers as he shook his head adamantly. “No, she’s fine…” He trailed off, sounding uncertain.
“But?” Arthur prodded gently. There was more there that was being left unsaid. That much was obvious.
Merlin finally began awkwardly clearing away the breakfast dishes, though it was obvious his mind was far away from the task at hand.
“I just need to go see her. It’s been almost a year since the last time I saw my Mum.” He said it with an air of finality, as if he had no intention of elaborating further, and Arthur simply nodded after a moment.
“How long do you need?”
Merlin’s hands froze and he glanced up, shooting Arthur a look of mild disbelief, as if he hadn’t expected it to be this easy. “A week. Maybe two,” he answered with a nonchalant shrug, as if it were no big deal, even though Arthur knew otherwise.
It was true that Merlin hadn’t seen his Mother in close to a year, and Arthur knew they were close to one another. What harm would a short visit do? Truthfully, Arthur hated it when Merlin wasn’t around, even though he complained about him all the time when he was there. It was why he always insisted on bringing him everywhere he went; why Merlin rode up front with him, always ate and slept nearest to him, and why he permitted his manservant to walk alongside him instead of behind him, as was customary with a traditional master/servant relationship. It was incredibly hard to converse with someone who was several paces behind you. In spite of the fact that his knights could be quite entertaining, Arthur could only ever truly be himself around Merlin. It was the only place in the world that he didn’t need to be Prince Arthur Pendragon, and could simply be Arthur the man. So the thought of losing Merlin for up to two weeks was not an appealing one. At the same time, there had been something troubling Merlin for weeks, if not months, and if this could possibly help, then he was willing to suffer the consequences. Not that he would share this sentiment with Merlin, of course.
Arthur had always been protective of those he cared for - Morgana, his Father, his knights, and the citizens of Camelot to a somewhat lesser extent. His heart was still heavy with the knowledge that he hadn’t been able to protect Morgana when she needed him most, and Arthur was not going to allow the same thing to happen to Merlin.
“All right,” he said at long last.
Merlin looked temporarily taken aback. “Really?”
Arthur supposed he should be offended that Merlin thought he wouldn’t be gracious enough to permit him to go on a leave home, but instead he simply shrugged. “You asked, and it’s been a while since you’ve seen Hunith. I’m not a heartless monster, you know?” He grinned, holding up a finger to stem any unnecessary comments from his manservant.
“Now that that’s been cleared up, have you seen the state of my chambers lately, Merlin?” Arthur asked, gesturing with a grand flourish to the room behind him.
Merlin smiled at him then, the first genuine smile he’d seen on his servant in days, if not weeks, and Arthur felt something swell within his chest. Something like affection and a fierce determination to keep Merlin safe at all costs. Arthur smiled back and fought the almost overwhelming urge to tie his manservant up in order to ensure that he remained in Arthur’s sight at all times. Except that probably wouldn’t go over too well, he figured. Instead, Arthur did the next best thing: “Well, let’s get on with it then. Do you need an invitation or something?”
* * * * *
Later that evening, as Merlin packed for his journey, he started to question whether or not he was doing the right thing. He had never been one to run from his problems, but life these days felt almost too overwhelming for him to bear. His heart ached in so many ways, sorrow filling every pore of his being until he felt as though his body was literally secreting his inner agony in a twisted physical manifestation of the misery he felt. In spite of the occasional reprieve from his thoughts and memories, every day Merlin found it harder and harder to put on a brave face and pretend that everything was all right when it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He had withdrawn from everyone save for Arthur, though even the sight of his friend did little to quell the heaviness in his heart, especially given the fact that Arthur still didn’t know about his magic. This truth weighed ever heavy on his shoulders, and Merlin sometimes wondered if he’d even be able to tell Arthur anything in the near future for fear of losing him. In many ways, Arthur was the only thing keeping his sanity intact, while simultaneously being one of the main sources for his inner turmoil. Which was why he needed to get away. He needed some perspective, some time to sort things out and get himself together again. It was only a matter of time before Arthur finally broke him, and Merlin was not in any sort of emotional state to handle such a thing at the moment.
Merlin knew that his Mother would be able to help him gain some much-needed perspective. Camelot was his home now, but Ealdor would always hold a special place in his heart, and he always found it easier to sort through his thoughts out in the country. Plus, his Mum had a right to know what had happened to his Father, and Merlin wanted the news to come from him and no one else.
A voice startled him out of his reverie. “Merlin, my boy, why are you packing?”
Merlin turned suddenly, surprised to hear Gaius’ voice from his bedroom door. Merlin had been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed his mentor’s return.
“I’m going to visit Ealdor and my Mother for a couple of weeks,” he replied, returning his attention to the bag he was stuffing full of clothes and other items.
“Does Arthur know you’re leaving?” Gaius asked, taking a few more steps into the room. Merlin pushed down a sigh, feeling slightly (though mostly irrationally) irritated with the question. What did Gaius assume he was doing, running away?
He took a deep, calming breath before responding. “Of course he does. We spoke about it this morning.”
Gaius grunted his acknowledgement but remained otherwise silent. After several minutes of silence from that corner of the room, Merlin assumed that Gaius had gone back to work and proceeded to shove the rest of his belongings into his bags, doing his best to avoid thinking about anything in particular. Except that it was easier said than done. Merlin was nearly finished when his gaze fell upon the dragon that Balinor had carved for him, and without thinking, he snatched up the carving, running his fingers over it reverently. It was both the first and the last remaining connection he had with his Father, and the injustice of it all hurt like a stab wound directly to his heart. Merlin bent forward, placing his hands on the bed in front of him and splaying his fingers between the rough fabric in an attempt to diminish the overwhelming sense of sadness that had suddenly befallen him.
“Merlin, are you okay?” Gaius asked softly, and Merlin started, not having realised that the other man was still in the room. Merlin instinctively angled his back towards the older man to prevent himself from being seen and, squeezing his eyes shut, concentrated on willing away the sorrow that was threatening to choke him.
“No,” he admitted honestly a few moments later. “I’m not.” And he continued to pack.
* * * * *
Arthur was not usually one to suffer from insomnia, but in times of great stress he was known to have experienced such unpleasantries. At age five, Arthur’s first dog had passed away, leaving him in tears for the better part of the day (until his Father informed him that Princes did not show such weaknesses and insisted that he stop crying immediately). He hadn’t slept that night. At the tender age of eight, Arthur’s curiosity finally got the better of him and he stealthily followed the Knights of Camelot on one of their top-secret missions, hoping to determine what they got up to outside of the castle walls. His enjoyment rapidly diminished, however, when a bunch of bandits chose that particular morning to lay siege to the city, and Arthur was forced to look on in horror as one of his Father’s loyal soldiers was slain right in front of him. He hadn’t slept for two whole nights that time around. One time, at age twelve, he’d gotten into a dreadful fight with Morgana, to the point where she decided that she would be better off living on her own than staying in Camelot with such an insufferable, arrogant arse of a Prince. Morgana had run away that very day and they hadn’t found her until the following morning. Needless to say, he hadn’t slept that night either, in spite of being forbidden from aiding in the search.
In the past couple of months, however, Arthur had experienced insomnia at least once or twice a week, sometimes for more than one consecutive night. After he’d sent Merlin away from Camelot, after Gaius’ imprisonment and near execution, after the incident with Morgause and his Mother, after Morgana’s disappearance, and finally after his final battle with the dragon - all of these events had inspired sleepless nights, to the point where Arthur was beginning to get used to functioning on minimal amounts of rest.
His only reprieve had occurred approximately a week ago, when Merlin accidentally fell asleep at the end of his bed, and Arthur hadn’t the heart to wake him. After several long moments of contemplation, Arthur eventually decided that Merlin could stay, placed an extra blanket over his sleeping form and carefully crawled into bed, taking extreme care not to disturb Merlin’s slumber. When Arthur awoke the next morning, Merlin was gone, but it had been the best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks, even if he was loath to ruminate over the reasons why.
All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t sleep now, and there was no specific rhyme or reason to explain why. Other than the fact that Merlin was leaving tomorrow morning, and the thought of having to face the daily grind without his incompetent, frustrating, though inexplicably endearing manservant for the better part of a fortnight left him with a dull ache in his chest. That was obviously not the reason for his current state of sleeplessness, though, he reasoned quite effectively. And there was definitely not the added element of concern for Merlin’s own mental state these days. He had witnessed Merlin frown, and seen his tear-filled eyes more times in the last few months than he cared to experience in a lifetime. Possibly the most frustrating aspect of it all was the fact that Merlin wouldn’t let him in - wouldn’t even let him help. It made no logical sense in Arthur’s eyes. Did the man not trust him? Yet when he considered everything that had happened over the past year, Arthur supposed that he hadn’t exactly been the best friend to Merlin all the time. Still...he’d defended Merlin against the Witchfinder and his Father, stood up for him in court, broken the law, and disobeyed direct orders from his Father in order to protect him. Hell, Arthur had even taken to joining Merlin on the floor of his chamber when he felt the situation warranted the action. Not that he thought this was some outstanding feat in and of itself, but Arthur had yet to meet a noble who would sit on the floor voluntarily, never mind for the sake of a servant. Did Merlin not understand that there was nothing Arthur would not do for him, in spite of his sometimes contradictory behaviour? It was a puzzling and somewhat bothersome line of thought.
After far too many minutes spent contemplating these very things, Arthur decided to at least make himself productive if he was not going to be getting any sleep tonight. Standing, he headed down to the Great Hall to gather some reports and complaints to review in preparation for the council meeting tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps he’d be able to get some much-needed rest during that meeting, Arthur thought wryly to himself.
* * * * *
In the end, Arthur eventually fell asleep for an hour or two, if the drool stain on the table by his head was any indication. However, he did not feel the least bit rested and was still wide-awake before the first signs of dawn even became visible. So Arthur did what he always did in these situations - he paced back and forth in his rooms until that got boring. Then, once the sun had just begun to rise, he dressed himself with the intention of going to the training grounds to get in some early morning practice.
Arthur was promptly distracted, however, when he noticed someone in the distance heading towards the stables wearing a distinct blue shirt and red neckerchief. Merlin. Arthur veered off course and headed towards the direction of the stables instead, taking care to ensure Merlin wasn’t aware that he was being followed or watched. He watched for a few minutes as Merlin began to prepare his horse to ride out. Well, it wasn’t technically Merlin’s horse as Arthur wasn’t officially allowed to just give his manservant something so extravagant. But unofficially it belonged to him; Merlin was the only one who rode the thing. Arthur had made it quite clear fairly early on that the horse must always be on hand for Merlin’s use in case there was ever an emergency and he needed to ride out with Arthur, and thus far no one had raised any qualms about the arrangement.
Consequently, Merlin hadn’t actually asked permission to take the horse with him to Ealdor, though Arthur found it oddly comforting that he’d made the assumption on his own. Of course Arthur would have granted him permission to take the horse, as walking would have added several extra days travel time (days Arthur certainly did not want to spend without him), but Arthur knew that he would have sacked any of his previous servants for such a bold action. Arthur liked to believe that this change in his reaction showed personal growth in his character, but if he was honest with himself, it was more likely a product of the fact that he let Merlin get away with far more than propriety dictated. Why that was, however, was another story all together.
“Leaving without saying good-bye?” Arthur queried after he decided he’d kept silent long enough, sauntering casually up to Merlin with a single brow quirked.
Merlin jumped slightly from where he was preparing his horse but turned towards Arthur’s voice immediately, a soft smile on his face. “I’m surprised you’re up this early,” he stated pointedly, but not actually answering the question that had been asked.
“I woke up early,” Arthur lied. Merlin didn’t need to know the reason why he was awake, simply that he was.
Merlin shrugged and continued to finish securing the saddle on his horse, seemingly accepting the explanation at face value. “Well thanks for coming to see me off then,” he said finally.
Arthur watched Merlin work, nimble fingers flying over buckles and belts with ease.
“Merlin, wait,” Arthur called out impulsively, as his manservant was about to mount his horse, and Merlin turned to glance quizzically behind him.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, or what specifically propelled him into action, but something felt right about it. Arthur strode towards Merlin and before he could change his mind, pulled his manservant into his arms. At first he felt Merlin tense up - which was understandable, considering the fact that Arthur was not in the habit of hugging his manservant. After a few moments, however, he seemed to relax into the embrace, arms coming up to rest against Arthur’s back as he lightly squeezed back. Arthur wanted to say something, anything, to Merlin to explain what he was doing, but there was a voice in the back of his head that instructed him to remain silent; that now wasn’t the time. So, instead, Arthur hugged Merlin tightly, probably holding onto him longer than was strictly necessary, but knowing that they both needed this more than they were likely even aware.
When they finally pulled apart, Merlin was smiling, but there was still something haunting about his eyes. It was the same look he’d seen many times over the past couple of months, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to wash away that expression forever. It made him anxious; worried. And even more importantly, the sorrow he saw in Merlin’s eyes was somehow reflected back onto Arthur, filling him with an overwhelming need to protect Merlin from whatever demons he was fighting. Except that he couldn’t protect Merlin when the man wouldn’t let him in, and if he were being honest with himself, Arthur would admit that it hurt him just a bit that Merlin didn’t feel he could trust Arthur with whatever this was.
Realising that Merlin was waiting for him to say something, Arthur clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, staring at him intently. “Take care of yourself, all right?”
Merlin eyed him, questions swimming beneath the surface, but he simply nodded and smiled tightly. “I will,” he promised. Arthur squeezed his shoulder gently in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and nodded as well, releasing his manservant from his grip. Merlin mounted his steed and cast one last look at Arthur before heading in the direction of Ealdor.
Arthur stood and watched the horse trot away, waiting until he could no longer see Merlin at all before quietly heading out to the training grounds with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
* * * * *
Travel home went a lot quicker than Merlin had originally anticipated, and he was grateful for once to be traveling on his own. Even though Arthur was a far more experienced rider, trips always took longer when he was around, simply because they needed to stop more often, and because their tendency to argue often slowed progress.
Ealdor was, by all appearances, exactly the same as it had been the last time Merlin had been home just over a year ago. It was both a comfort and a shock to find that so little had truly changed. He had called Camelot his home for more than two years now, and if there was one thing that could be said about the city, it was that things rarely stayed the same for more than a week or two. It was a shock to the system, without a doubt, but at the same time, it provided Merlin with the exact sense of stability that he was so desperately craving. It felt like eons ago that he and Will were boys causing all kinds of mischief in town and taking care of their respective families. So much had happened to Merlin over these past couple of years that it felt almost as if he’d lived another life or two in that time.
Stopping at the outskirts of town, Merlin paused to breathe in the fresh air around him. He found his mind drifting back to his Father, and couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever stood on this very spot, so many years ago. Years he’d spent hiding from Uther’s tyranny and war against invisible enemies. It was enough of a thought to send his mind spiralling into the throes of righteous fury once again at the injustice of his Father’s fate. His Father who had only loved and cared for the dragons, hunted like an animal by Uther Pendragon for being born with magical abilities. It was no more a crime than punishing someone for being born with brown hair or green eyes. Uther had been the one to blame for his Father’s exile, as well as his eventual death, and this knowledge hurt no less now than it had upon the first discovery of such facts.
“Merlin?”
His head snapped up in surprise, shattering his dreary thought process, to meet the smiling eyes of his Mother. He’d sent word of his impending visit, but there was really no way to know if the message had reached her prior to his actual arrival.
“Mum,” he whispered as she enveloped him in a warm embrace, wrapping her arms firmly around his neck. There was nothing more than the slightest lilt to his voice, but it seemed to be enough to pique her curiosity.
“Are you okay Merlin?” she asked, pulling back to stare at him intently, in the way that only Mothers could.
Merlin had planned on getting into the house and at least settling in before allowing himself to unload onto his Mother, but standing here with her loving, concerned and accepting (always accepting) face trained on him, he found he was barely able to maintain composure long enough to choke out, “No, I’m not. Everything is a complete mess, Mum, and I don’t know what to do.”
* * * * *
Hunith ushered Merlin into the house and began to make tea, but eventually abandoned the action when she realized her son needed her attention more. With a saddened sigh, she sat down on a stool across from Merlin and simply listened to his story, every once in a while patting his arm or placing a steadying hand on his shaking knee. She had never seen her boy so distraught in all her life, and it was really quite alarming in its intensity.
Merlin told her about how things had been quite tense between himself and Arthur after the questing beast, especially after Arthur sacked him in favour of a common thief. He continued to speak of how Arthur had somehow managed to fall in love with Gwen, practically overnight, and how in spite of his claims to the contrary, Merlin had been quite concerned about this radical and unexplained shift. Hunith suspected there was more there than he was willing to admit at the moment, but she knew that now was not an appropriate time for that discussion.
The story of how Gaius had nearly been executed for sorcery sent a wave of genuine fear through Hunith for the first time since sending Merlin away. If Uther was so willing to sentence Gaius, a close friend, to death then he would not even blink an eye at killing her son. The thought flooded her veins with near paralysing fear, and she wondered if perhaps she’d made the wrong decision after all. The only thing holding her back from voicing this concern was, again, the fragility of her son at the moment.
“Merlin, maybe you should take a break?” Hunith suggested softy at this point, reaching out and rubbing the back of his arm soothingly.
But Merlin shook his head, a determined look on his face. He reached up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears that had managed to slip past his cheeks and let out a shaky, mirthless laugh. “I can’t, Mum. We’re just getting to the good part.” The sorrow in his voice was not surprising, but the anger was, and Hunith wished more than anything in the world that she could just erase all of these terrible experiences from her son’s mind.
“All right then, if you’re sure,” she said at long last, giving him an encouraging smile.
He did not return the gesture. Merlin continued with his story, telling Hunith about the journey Morgeause had sent Arthur and himself on and the new details that had been revealed about Arthur’s Mother in the process. His voice broke when he spoke of having to convince Arthur that the sorcerer had been lying about the circumstances surrounding Ygraine’s death, and how Arthur had renewed his position against magic at that point. The tears started to flow when he told her about Freya, and by the time he recounted what had happened with Morgana, he sounded so exhausted that he was barely able to speak.
It was then that Hunith decided he’d had enough for now, and that he needed to take a break and eat something before he passed out. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through,” she told him, wrapping him in a warm embrace,which he easily accepted. In spite of Merlin’s size, he felt like her little boy again, and she fought down her own wave of tears as she held him. “But I think we should stop, my boy. You can tell me the rest later.”
Merlin pulled away from her swiftly then, staring at her across the gap between them through tear-stained eyes and shook his head. “No, we can’t stop yet. The last part of the story has to do with my Father... Balinor, the last dragon lord.”
This time Merlin was the one who reached out to steady Hunith.
* * * * *
Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up here, in all honesty. He’d spent most of the morning working his knights to death. Or at least as close to death as he was willing to allow them to get at the moment. After losing so many of his seasoned knights battling the dragon, Arthur had been putting the newer recruits through the wringer. Once practice had wrapped up, Arthur found himself up in his chambers, armour being removed by some new and overly enthusiastic servant who was all yes, Sire and right away, Sire. Not so long ago he would have revelled in such obedience and reverence - seeing as how he was a Prince and deserved such respect - but now he just found it bloody irritating. Said servant then proceeded to prepare his bath, serve him lunch, and tidy up his rooms until they were practically spotless. He did everything to near perfection, behaving in a polite and respectful manner, only speaking when spoken to and addressing Arthur as “Sire” or “my Lord.” Which of course only reminded him of his former useless manservant, whom he absolutely did not miss even a tiny bit. Except that he perhaps did, and more often than not over the past week, he found his thoughts drifting between Merlin and Morgana, although, embarrassingly enough, the scale was tipped in Merlin’s favour.
Somewhere along the line, Arthur determined that he needed to clear his head and decided to go for a walk. How he found himself currently in Gaius’ workshop, staring determinedly at Merlin’s bedroom door (as if he would magically appear if Arthur just glared long enough), was truly and sincerely beyond his comprehension. But here he was, all the same. The physician was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best anyway. Arthur had absolutely no reason to be here and no justifiable explanation to provide to Gaius should he show up at any moment, which was quite possible now that he thought about it.
Logically Arthur knew that he should just leave and take a stroll through Camelot, or go for a ride outside of the city, or do anything else as long as he didn’t remain here.
The sound of the door swinging open abruptly halted Arthur’s internal debate and he had to muster every ounce of willpower he was able to draw on in order to prevent himself from letting out an unmanly and un-Princely squawk.
“Sire?” he heard Gaius ask, a tone of worry in his voice, as he stepped into the workshop and shut the door behind him. “Are you all right?”
Arthur plastered on his best smile and nodded. “Yes, Gaius, I’m quite fine, thank you.”
Gaius shot him a vaguely curious look and raised a single eyebrow in question. Which promptly reminded Arthur that he probably needed to come up with an explanation as to why he was in Gaius’ chambers if he was perfectly fine.
Before he really had time to think it through, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I ran out of salve for my shoulder and wanted to see if you had any more.”
The expression that fell upon Gaius’ face was nothing short of utter confusion, and had Arthur not been in the middle of trying to bluff his way out of an embarrassing situation, he might have laughed. “You mean the same salve that I gave you yesterday?”
Arthur bit back a cough. He’d kind of, sort of, completely forgotten about that in his moment of panic. “Oh yes. Right. Must have slipped my mind. Pardon the intrusion, Gaius,” Arthur offered lamely, strolling towards the door in an attempt to make a hasty retreat.
But he was stopped by Gaius calling out his name. Huffing out a nervous breath, Arthur turned to face Gaius with all the poise and charm he could muster. “Yes?”
“There was…nothing else you wished to speak with me about?” came the gentle inquiry after a couple of silent moments. Gaius had to know that Arthur was bluffing - it was the most ridiculous excuse Arthur had possibly ever employed in his life - but for his part, he sounded nothing short of genuinely concerned.
Still, in spite of the sheer stupidity of his bluff, Arthur was not willing to lose face over this any more than he already had by admitting to anything. “No, that was all,” he told Gaius, trying to sound confident.
And then he did the second most idiotic thing he’d done in quite a while. Arthur’s eyes flickered, almost unconsciously, over to Merlin’s bedroom door for the briefest of moments, but as soon as Gaius’ gaze roamed towards that direction as well, Arthur knew that he’d been found out.
When their eyes met again, Gaius smiled warmly at him, almost knowingly. But there was no judgement or condescension there, only compassion. “I thought that perhaps his Highness had been having difficulty sleeping and wanted something to help? You’ve seemed very tired as of late, Sire, especially with all the troubles that have befallen Camelot in recent months and I thought that perhaps you wanted a tonic.”
Arthur just stared dumbly at Gaius for a few moments, attempting to process the rather simple words that had just come out of his mouth and then figure out how to properly respond to them. “Um, yes, actually,” Arthur managed to spit out as soon as he was able to form words again. “I haven’t been sleeping as well as I would like,” he admitted.
Gaius nodded once in satisfaction and began rummaging around the room, seemingly to prepare the tonic for him. “I’ll make one up for you right away, Sire. I will bring it by later on this evening, but feel free to come back at any point if you’d like more.” Gaius tossed him one last knowing smile as Arthur headed out of the room, before setting about his work.
* * * * *
In the first two weeks he was home, Merlin spent a great deal of time talking to his Mother about Balinor. He found that he craved any piece of information about his Father that she could offer. Where he came from, what he was like, the things he was interested in, and anything else she knew about him. He knew it was hard for his Mother at times to speak about her former love, but in spite of this, she readily shared any knowledge she had of the man who would have been her husband. As a young child, Merlin never understood why his Mother avoided all questions he’d asked about his Father, until finally one day he simply stopped asking. Merlin always assumed that there was some particular reason why his Mum never mentioned his Dad or spoke about him, though Merlin had always assumed it was likely because he’d died long ago. Or because she didn’t think he deserved to know the truth about him. It was only now that Merlin was able to develop a true appreciation for the choices his Mum had made back then, and how she’d really been protecting him instead of trying to hurt him by keeping his Father’s identity a secret.
A few days after Merlin’s arrival, his Mother had brought him out to a particular patch of forest just behind his home.
“This was a place that your Father liked to sit while he carved,” she’d told him, pointing to an old log that lay on the ground amidst the brush. “He said that it was a good place to think.”
Merlin started going out to the log every single day. Sometimes he simply sat and thought, other times he practiced his magic, and sometimes Merlin talked to his Father about anything and everything. There was something oddly comforting about being in the same place that had once been important to Balinor, as if Merlin was able to connect with his Father, in spite of the fact that he was no longer alive.
“Hi Father,” Merlin stated shyly, kicking softly at the ground with his boot and staring at nothing in particular. “I hope you’re okay, wherever you are.”
At first it felt sort of awkward to be talking out loud to nothing but the air, rocks, trees, and bushes in his direct line of sight. However, the more he did it, the easier it became, and there were times when he almost felt like his Father was there, listening and comforting and supporting him. Merlin spoke of Camelot, Gaius and Gwen. He talked about Morgana and Freya, tearfully expositing their stories in a painfully honest manner, as he’d never been able to do before. Merlin shared his misgivings about the Great Dragon, Uther, and various enemies he’d had to deal with over the past couple of years. But mostly he spoke about Arthur, and about his magic.
“I wish you were here right now, actually,” he admitted softly. “It would make things so much easier. I need to go back to Camelot now. Arthur’s expecting me. But I don’t know how I can ever face him again without breaking down and telling him everything. Telling him could get me killed, but not telling him is slowly killing me too. I don’t know what to do.”
There were times when Merlin thought that maybe his Father actually was still there with him somehow, watching and listening. It wasn’t something he could quite explain, nor was there any actual physical evidence to prove his point. It was simply a feeling that Merlin had, almost as if he could sense his Father’s presence. Sometimes when he spoke, he felt a sense of warmth wash over him, and it was comforting to think that perhaps it wasn’t just the sun, even if he may have been deluding himself.
“It’s just that Arthur’s...well, he’s really damn important to me and despite all I’ve lost, I don’t think I can imagine living a life without him in it. The prat is a complete arse most of the time, but he’s a good man, and a good friend. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for him. The problem is that he trusts me completely now, and I don’t know how to tell him without betraying that trust forever. It’s all just a mess.”
Merlin fingered a stone on the ground, turning it around in his hand and watching the way it shone in the light. “I guess I just want to know that this whole thing won’t end in disaster.”
The forest remained uncharacteristically silent, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was a hopeful or ominous sign.
* * * * *
Three weeks after he’d first arrived in Ealdor, Merlin found himself kneading dough for bread he was learning to make and thinking about Arthur, not for the first time. He wondered what Arthur was doing at that very moment in time in Camelot. It was mid afternoon, so he’d probably just finished eating lunch and was likely going to train his knights. He’d been pushing them quite hard as of late, to compensate for the deaths of those involved in the fight with the Great Dragon. Of course, it was also possible that Arthur was on patrol, or stuck in a particularly boring meeting. Merlin just hoped that no tragedy had befallen Camelot since he’d left, and felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that he wasn’t there now, as had originally been expected. He sent a letter to Gaius a few days ago to inform his mentor that he was all right, but wouldn’t be coming home just yet. A similar letter had consequently not been sent to Arthur, even though a part of him had wanted to. Merlin also wondered if Arthur thought about him at all, if he missed his presence. Was the Prince going about his daily routine happily, with a new servant actually providing competent service? Or was he worried about him, wondering where the hell Merlin was and what he was doing? Lastly, he wondered what would happen when his magical secret was finally revealed. A thousand different scenarios played through his mind on an endless loop, but none of them ended with things going well. It was truly a terrifying thought.
Merlin was only vaguely aware of the sound of a door opening, but after a few minutes of silence he thought he might have just imagined the whole thing.
“You seem troubled,” Hunith remarked quietly after a moment’s pause.
Merlin glanced up distractedly, noticing for the first time that he’d stopped kneading the dough beneath his hands several minutes ago, if not longer. “I’m fine,” he lied, knowing full well that his Mother would see right through him in a heartbeat, but pushing down his feelings had almost become a natural instinct, he’d become so accustomed to doing it.
She walked over to him and placed a soothing hand on his back. “What’s bothering you, my boy?”
“It’s nothing,” he breathed out slowly, averting his gaze carefully. It was a losing battle, he knew, but he didn’t really feel like talking right now. He was tired of going around in circles when there was no resolution on the horizon; when every solution seemed to create more problems.
“You wouldn’t look so forlorn if it were nothing, Merlin. Perhaps talking about it will help.”
“No, it won’t help. I’ve talked this over enough as it is. There’s nothing left to say.” He resumed kneading the bread beneath his fingers, already fighting back the tears that threatened to spill forth. Perhaps Arthur really was right when he called Merlin a girl. He’d spent far too much time crying in the last several months.
Hunith remained silent, rubbing his back gently as only a Mother could do, before turning away from him and moving across the room. Merlin swallowed a sigh of relief and returned his attention to the bread he was poorly attempting to make. Five minutes passed, and then another five, as he finished with the dough. Merlin was beginning to think that he was getting out of this conversation after all, when his Mother finally spoke up.
“This is about Arthur, isn’t it?” she finally asked, and Merlin had to admit that he was impressed that she’d been able to hold out that long.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he tried, running a hand through his hair.
“Did something happen between you that you didn’t tell me about?”
Merlin let out a huff of frustration, sitting down on the stool across from his Mother. “No, Mum. Things are fine. Better than ever, really. Except that it’s all a horrible lie...”
“Don’t say that, Merlin.”
“But it’s true.”
“Merlin,” Hunith stated firmly, staring at him until he finally met her gaze. “Tell me, do you care about Arthur?”
“Of course I do.”
“Would you willingly serve him, regardless of your magic?”
Merlin paused briefly before admitting, “I’d do anything for Arthur.”
“And does Arthur care for you?”
Merlin really had to think about that one. Sure, Arthur seemed to like him well enough, but that was Merlin as his incompetent manservant, not Merlin the incredibly powerful warlock. Who knew what his perspective would be if he knew the real Merlin. Eventually he decided to go with, “He’s said as much, so I suppose he must."
“Then why, my boy, would you ever think that it’s all a lie? Would your affection or dedication or loyalty to Arthur change if he knew about your magic, or if you had no magic at all?”
“No.” There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice this time when he answered.
Hunith smiled knowingly, and reached over to take his hand in both of hers. “So, then, why would you assume the opposite to be true of Arthur?” And Merlin had to admit that the argument was logical enough, except that Arthur and logic didn’t exactly go together in the best of times, never mind when it came to magic.
“You don’t understand,” Merlin told her with a heavy sigh. He appreciated what his Mum was trying to do, but she didn’t realize that it was far more complicated than how she was presenting the situation.
“Then explain it to me.”
“He hugged me before I left to come and see you.” Merlin sounded distraught over this piece of information, though it was clear that his Mother did not understand why.
“That means that he cares for you, my boy. It’s not a bad thing,” she murmured soothingly, reaching out to pat his arm.
Merlin just shook his head. “Yes it is. Arthur likes me. He gets concerned about me when I act strangely. He trusts me, Mum. I could be running around lying and stealing from him and he’d still stand up for me in court and defend me against his Father. His Father. Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot.”
Hunith’s face twisted into a semi-frown as she watched her son. “I still don’t understand why this is bad though, Merlin. You’re fortunate to have Arthur’s loyalty and trust.”
“Because,” he cried out, throwing his hands up in demonstration. “When he finds out how I’ve lied to him all this time… and the things I’ve done over the past several months… He’ll hate me for sure. It’s so much worse now that I have his complete trust, because it will just be that much harder to earn it back.” Merlin sighed heavily, running a hand over his face and bit his lip. “I don’t know what I’d do without Arthur, Mum. He’s an arrogant prat and yet my best friend in spite of it all, but he’s so much more than just that…” He’s my whole world and I can’t bear the thought of being without him, Merlin mentally finished, but he didn’t have the heart to put the sentiment into words. Never mind the fact that it was terribly embarrassing.
“I just...can’t keep my magic from him any longer,” he finally finished resignedly, mentally and physically deflating. “Do you have any idea what Arthur has done for me this year, Mum? It goes above and beyond what any normal person would do for a friend, never mind what a Prince would do for a servant. He’s going to feel so betrayed and I don’t know what to do.”
Merlin buried his face in his hands, closing his eyes as the weight of the implication hung heavily over his head. There was no way out of this mess that didn’t end in disaster, and Merlin was not looking forward to facing that reality.
* * * * *
If Arthur had to sit through one more land dispute, or listen to one more person argue about how so-and-so had stolen their most valued cow, he thought he might explode from bottled up frustration. There was truly only so much one person could handle, and Arthur had reached his breaking point. Of course, as the future King of Camelot, it was important that Arthur be in attendance to help settle these arguments as a sign of good faith to the people, so they knew that their future King cared for their well-being. Which he did. Except that Arthur had other thoughts weighing on his mind that made concentration on the peasants’ arguments next to impossible.
In the past there were times when Morgana had joined the council at Uther’s request, in spite of her many protestations against being forced to sit through “all those petty squabbles,” which many of them happened to be. Arthur had enjoyed those meetings more than the others, if for no other reason than the fact that he liked to see Morgana’s thinly veiled irritation at being stuck in that room with no real authority to provide thoughts or an opinion on the cases presented. There were also times when he would catch her eye across the table and they’d share a look, which would often spawn silent conversations (or sometimes wars) between the two of them until one relented and broke eye contact. The thought of Morgana sent another spike of worry through him, and he wondered - not for the first time - if she was okay out there, wherever she currently was.
Arthur sighed heavily, but tried to look attentive all the same. The last thing he needed was the King on his case.
A few minutes later, Arthur found his thoughts drifting once again, this time to Merlin, who had now been gone from Camelot for just shy of four weeks. If not for Gaius, Arthur might have already gone out in search of his manservant, wondering if Merlin had been attacked by bandits or taken hostage by insurgents. Knowing he was safe was a comfort, though only barely. The fact that Merlin had been gone almost twice as long as he’d originally intended, coupled with his fragile mental state upon his departure, made Arthur question whether or not he could truly expect Merlin to ever return.
“Arthur, what do you think?”
Uther’s booming voice interrupted his reverie quite effectively and Arthur glanced across the table at his Father, wondering what the hell they were discussing at the moment. “Excuse me?”
“I asked what your thoughts were on the land dispute. What do you think is the best solution to this problem?” Uther shot him an expectant look, as if he were waiting for some great pearls of wisdom from his son. The son who hadn’t paid any attention at all to the current claim and had instead been lost in thought over his missing step-sister and absent manservant. Not that Uther was aware of this, of course.
Arthur swallowed tightly and decided that the most graceful solution to this situation was to bluff his way out of it and pretend as though he’d been listening the whole time. There weren’t exactly any other feasible options that Arthur could employ at the moment, and it would look terribly uncouth for him to admit that he’d spent the last twenty minutes daydreaming instead of listening to both parties put forth their complaint.
He glanced between both men, brain working overtime to try and pull any relevant information - anything he may have accidentally absorbed simply by being in the same room as them - that could be even remotely helpful in coming up with a solution. Unfortunately, Arthur could not recall a single detail about either, save for their names and their general area of origin.
“Well,” he started, hoping he sounded far more confident than he felt, “It seems to me that either you split the land in half, or you both will have to share what’s there between you.”
Uther stared at Arthur for several long moments, eyes boring deeply into his with a frown plastered to his face, and Arthur was almost positive that he’d said the entirely wrong thing. He hadn’t dared even chancing a glance at the two men, for fear of what their expressions would hold.
Arthur was about to recant his statement when Uther nodded at him, his frown dissolving into a semi-smile. “I think that is a reasonable and fair solution to the problem. You’ve actually made the whole issue quite simple. Fine work, son,” he told him.
Arthur blinked and simply allowed himself to smile in spite of his obvious confusion. That had been close. Too bloody close for Arthur’s liking.
* * * * *
That evening, Arthur went to see Gaius. This time, however, he cut straight to the point.
“Is he coming back?”
Gaius, for his part, decided to forgo his typical clueless act this time around, and for that Arthur was grateful. “He made no indication that he wasn’t returning, Sire. But I can’t say for certain, of course.”
Arthur huffed out a breath and ran a hand loosely through his hair. “What’s going on with Merlin, Gaius? There’s been something... For months now, there’s been something eating away at him. I’ve tried asking him to tell me, I’ve tried forcing him to tell me, hell I’ve even tried bribing him. Nothing’s worked.”
Gaius nodded thoughtfully. “And why do you think that something’s wrong in the first place?”
Arthur stared at the older man for several moments, blinking in surprise at the absurdity of the question. “I may not be the most thoughtful or observant person who ever walked the earth, Gaius, but I know Merlin, and I know when something is different. He seems almost....miserable these days and I don’t have a clue as to the explanation for his change in behaviour.”
“Merlin’s a complex individual,” Gaius started, and Arthur snorted in spite of himself. It wasn’t that he thought Merlin was a simple peasant, because goodness knows he’d already proven that to be false time and time again. However, ‘complex’ was most definitely not a word Arthur would typically associate with Merlin, though he supposed in some ways it was an apt description.
The physician shot him a warning look, but carried on. “I cannot claim to know what it is that you think is troubling Merlin, but even if I did Sire, you understand that I wouldn’t be able to break that confidence.”
Arthur nodded. “Nor would I expect you to,” he agreed.
“You can’t just let him deal with his misery, if that’s even what it is?”
“No! Because when Merlin’s miserable, I’m miserable.”
Gaius froze, staring at Arthur with a mixture of genuine surprise and something like amused affection. Arthur’s eyes widened immediately when the implication of what he’d just said sunk in, and fumbled to clarify the statement. “I mean, when he’s miserable, then his work gets even shoddier, which naturally impacts me, and therefore tends to make my life miserable as well,” Arthur offered lamely, hoping that he’d clarified the egregious error of his previous words but knowing, deep down, that neither one of them believed the false explanation.
Still, Arthur’s slip of the tongue was neither here nor there at the moment. They had more important matters to attend to, such as whether or not Merlin actually intended to return to Camelot.
“Look, Gaius, I just need to know if he’s coming back.”
“I wish I could tell you the answer to that question, Sire, but I cannot.”
“Then what would be your best guess?” Arthur pressed further, folding his arms across his chest and waiting patiently for the older man’s response.
Gaius seemed to thoughtfully consider the question before finally answering, “Merlin considers Camelot his home now, and he has many people here whom he cares deeply for. But while it seems unlikely that he wouldn’t return, I can’t say for sure that I believe he will come back. Sire.”
And in that moment, Arthur made a snap decision. If Merlin was hiding from Arthur for some reason, if he was planning to remain in Ealdor instead of returning to Camelot, then Arthur wasn’t just going to sit back and take it. He’d invested too much of his time...his energy...his loyalty...his heart...in Merlin to simply allow him to walk away. Not now; not ever.
“Can you do me a favour, Gaius?” Arthur started, and a plan mentally formed in his head as he spoke. “Tomorrow morning can you go to my Father and tell him that I went on a hunting trip for a few days?”
Gaius quirked a single eyebrow, his forehead wrinkling thoughtfully. “What are you planning, Sire?”
Arthur smiled. “If Merlin won’t come back here, then I guess I need to go and get him myself.” And with that, he headed back to his chamber to begin the preparations for his journey.
Part Two