Fanfic - It's Dangerous Business, Walking out Your Door (Merlin - 2/2)
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: See previous part! :)
Part One
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It’s Dangerous Business, Walking out Your Door - Part 2
Hunith was out gathering another pail of water to use for washing when she heard the sound of hooves trotting up to the village entrance. She glanced up at the rider who had just entered, but didn’t note anything particularly significant about him. He wore black trousers, black boots and had a hooded cape that mostly covered his face. It was not so common to have visitors to Ealdor, but Hunith also knew that the village was often a good place to stop for weary travellers. She hauled the bucket of water over to where the mysterious stranger was just stepping off his horse.
“Welcome to Ealdor,” she told him warmly. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I’m looking for a wiry, clumsy, brown-haired kid about this high,” he raised his hand to hover approximately at the top of his head. Hunith knitted her brows together, as she instantly recognized something familiar about the voice, but couldn’t quite place it.
“His name’s Merlin. You might know him?” And then the man slid the hood from his head to reveal his identity.
“Arthur!” she cried out in delighted surprise, and her face immediately broke into a grin. Before the man even had time to react, she was pulling him into a tight hug, overjoyed that he was here in Ealdor and already wondering why that was. She felt him stiffen involuntarily in her arms before he allowed himself to relax and return the gesture in kind.
Hunith had always liked Arthur, from the very first moment she’d met him. He was polite and respectful, dignified and caring. The whole village was still grateful for his assistance the previous year, when he’d stepped in to help them in a time of dire need. There were not many Princes out there who would risk so much for their servant’s village, and the man had won her respect from that moment on. She also knew that he was good for Merlin, and that he’d been good to her son. Hunith was uncertain as to why he was here now, but a part of her heart leapt at the idea that he’d simply come for Merlin. Their bond was incredibly strong, she knew. Possibly even stronger than either had really fully come to grasp just yet, and his presence here was significant somehow.
“It’s good to see you Hunith,” Arthur told her warmly when she released him from her grip.
“As it is to see you,” she returned, and absently reached down to grab hold of the bucket once again.
Being the gentlemen he was, though, Arthur placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Let me?” he asked, and she was happy to oblige.
* * * * *
When the door opened, Merlin glanced up, poised to ask his Mum where she’d put his trousers the other day. However, the words abruptly died in his throat upon beholding the person who had entered the house instead.
“Arthur?” Merlin froze in place, his eyes widening and giving off the appearance of a hunted deer. His gaze shifted in the direction of Hunith, and the look of near panic seemed to only intensify briefly before it became a mask once again.
“Merlin,” Arthur responded slowly. This wasn’t quite the reaction he was expecting upon his arrival. Though, when he really thought about it, it wasn’t as if he had something specific in mind. The look of mild terror on his manservant’s face wasn’t exactly reassuring, however.
When it seemed as if Merlin still wasn’t planning on saying anything intelligent, he carried on. “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve seen me, but surely even you can’t be that daft.” It was meant as a joke; Arthur even smiled when he said it. Merlin didn’t seem to find it quite as humorous.
“What are you doing here, Arthur?” he asked, stepping back from the table and wiping his hands on the rag hanging on the back of a chair. He sounded tired and weary.
Arthur raised a single brow in mild amusement. “Well, see, that’s an interesting question. I used to have this servant - completely incompetent; worst one I’ve ever known, by the way - and one day he asked to go on a trip home. So naturally I, being the gracious and caring Prince that I am, allowed him the time off he needed to go on this trip. Except said manservant never actually returned from his trip, nor did he inform the Prince of his intentions to stay longer.”
There was slightly more to the story, including the fact that the Prince had lied to his Father about where he was going, and that he had come here with the express purpose of finding and bringing Merlin back to Camelot, but Arthur figured that those were just side details that didn’t need to be shared at the moment.
Merlin at least had the good grace to look sufficiently sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he responded after a moment, eyes cast downward in an oddly submissive gesture. “I meant to head back, and I meant to send word to you that I wanted to stay, but I couldn’t ever make up my mind.”
“Well you could have done something,” Arthur chided, though it was lacking his usual fervour. “I need a servant I can rely on, you know. Someone who does what he says and doesn’t disappear for extended periods of time without telling me. I’ve been-“ He stopped himself then. Worried. I’ve been worried about you was what he was going to say, but for some reason he didn’t think it would be a good idea to finish the thought. It revealed a lot about his relationship with Merlin to admit that he’d been concerned about him. Princes were not supposed to care so deeply about their servants that they worried about their mental health. Nor were they supposed to follow their servants back to their hometowns in order to bring them back home. Then again, it was probably the least of everything he’d done for or because of Merlin in the last several months, breaking the law and becoming a seasoned liar not withstanding.
Merlin, however, was not known for subtlety, nor for recognizing it. “You’ve been what?”
“Never mind,” Arthur told him hurriedly, casting a sidelong glance in Hunith’s direction. “Maybe we should go outside?” he suggested after a moment, thinking that it would probably be best if Hunith wasn’t subjected to this conversation, as it was likely to get heated, if their past history was any indication.
Merlin’s mouth opened, probably to protest, but before he had even begun forming the words, Hunith chimed in. “I actually promised Mrs Weedley I’d stop by and visit her this afternoon, so I’ll leave you boys to talk.” And without another word, she quietly excused herself from the house.
Merlin and Arthur simply stared at one another for several moments following her departure, engaging in a silent battle of wills. The impending conversation would be nothing short of onerous, Arthur knew, but he didn’t want to avoid it forever. Whatever it was that Merlin was dealing with, Arthur was determined to get some answers and then do whatever he could to help make things better somehow.
“So, what’s really going on?” Arthur ventured eventually.
“What do you mean?” The genuine innocence in his blue eyes was almost startling, though Arthur was quite convinced that Merlin knew damn well what he was talking about.
“Come on Merlin, you can’t honestly take me for that much of a fool,” he began, but when he noticed the slight twitch of Merlin’s mouth, he quickly added, “That was rhetorical. Anyway, I know something has been bothering you for quite a while now, in spite of your numerous protestations to the contrary. You’re even more distracted than usual, you’ve been more emotional than ever before, and you’ve barely even insulted me in the past month.” The tiny smirk that formed on Merlin’s face felt like a small victory somehow. “And may the gods help me, but I’ve even started missing listening to your inane drivel. There’s something oddly comforting about it…”
“Why thank you, Sire,” Merlin droned dryly, but there was a touch of humour and sarcasm rolled into the comment.
“Plus, you asked for two weeks to come and visit your Mum, and now it’s been close to a month. With no word from you whatsoever, I might add. Were you even planning on coming back to Camelot?”
“Of course I was!” Merlin insisted confidently. “I’m sorry I never contacted you. That wasn’t right. But you should know that I’d never just leave without telling you.”
Arthur blinked, raising both eyebrows questioningly. “Really? Because I’m not sure how I would know that unless I had the skill of clairvoyance. You never talk to me any more.”
“I talk to you all the time,” he protested adamantly, scrunching up his face in a way that should have looked ridiculous, but Arthur mostly just found it adorable. He shook his head to clear the thought away as Merlin continued to ramble. “Just because I’ve been quiet lately doesn’t mean I don’t talk.”
“But it’s not about anything important. Every time I ask you what’s wrong, you ignore me or change the subject.”
“Have you ever considered that maybe it’s just none of your damn business?” Merlin shot back, eyes alighting with fiery indignation. But it was the most animated he’d seen his servant in quite some time, so Arthur was glad to continue to fuel the fire.
“And have you ever considered that maybe I’m asking because I care? Because I’m your friend?”
“I thought you were the one who said we couldn’t ever be friends, since you’re a Prince and all? Sire.”
Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. Sometimes Merlin really could be unbelievably dense. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Look, officially I can’t actually call you my friend. Traditionally Princes are not allowed to be friends with their servants. And it could put you at risk, never mind me, if word were to get out. But I kind of hoped… I assumed you would get it… Well, I guess I shouldn’t have assumed that you would understand what it was I was saying that day…”
“I’d settle for understanding what you’re trying to say right now,” Merlin cut in cheekily, and Arthur shot him a warning glare.
“What I’m saying, Merlin,” he drawled, throwing extra emphasis on his name, “is that you are my friend. And much as it pains me to admit it, you’re probably the closest friend I’ve ever had. I just can’t acknowledge that in public. I assumed...well, I assumed that you would get the meaning behind my words. I thought I was being quite clear on the matter. Apparently my expectations exceeded logistics though.”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed slightly, arms folded loosely across his chest, as he seemed to study Arthur thoughtfully.
“Thank you,” he said finally, though he didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as Arthur would have expected. Then again, nothing had really gone as expected on this whole trip thus far, so he figured he should be used to this by now.
“You don’t sound overly thrilled by this information,” Arthur remarked casually.
“What, did you want me to throw a feast in your honour?”
A burst of disbelieving laughter erupted from Arthur’s mouth. “No, of course not, you idiot. I’m just saying...”
Merlin did an uncannily accurate imitation of Gaius, his eyebrows quirking pointedly. “You’re just saying what?”
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but then decided against it, promptly shutting it once more. There were several ways to proceed at this point, but he couldn’t quite figure out which one would lead to the most satisfactory result. Eventually he went with, “It doesn’t matter. That’s beside the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Merlin challenged. Arthur was getting a little sick and tired of hearing the same type of comment getting thrown back in his face over and over again.
“The point is that there’s something wrong with you, and I want to know what it is.”
“Why are you so convinced that there’s something wrong with me?”
“Because I know you, Merlin. We already went through this. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Because there isn’t anything wrong, Arthur.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Merlin frowned heavily, face twisted into a full scowl now as he took a step towards Arthur. “Well that’s just too damn bad for you, isn’t it?”
“Why are you making such a big deal about this?”
“I think you’re the one who’s making this out to be more than it is. I’ve told you there’s nothing wrong, so leave me alone.” Merlin turned away from Arthur then, standing with his back towards the Prince.
“Why are you so resistant to telling me? Maybe I can help.” Arthur reached out and placed a tentative hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but he jerked away roughly, turning to face Arthur once again.
“There’s nothing you can do to help because there’s nothing wrong. I’m fine,” he tried to explain, but Arthur heard reluctance in his voice, and wondered if he was finally breaking through the barrier Merlin had placed between them.
Of course Arthur, being Arthur, had a tendency to say and do stupid things at inopportune times, and this was no exception. “You haven’t been fine in a long time. But especially since the whole incident with the dragon lord fellow, whatever his name was. You can’t tell me you’re still upset over that.” He regretted the words instantly, knowing they conveyed accusation instead of understanding and compassion, like he’d intended.
Suddenly Merlin’s eyes were filled with rage as he advanced angrily on Arthur, shoving him back. “His name was Balinor,” he practically growled.
“Excuse me. But I don’t see why it matters,” Arthur shot back, having no idea why Merlin was so furious but starting to feel thoroughly ticked off himself, in spite of knowing that this line of conversation would likely lead nowhere good. “It’s not like he was anyone important.”
“Maybe not to you...” There was a strong ‘but’ in there somewhere, yet Arthur hadn’t a clue as to why.
There was something dangerous about Merlin’s voice and his eyes, but Arthur was too annoyed to really care at this point. “But he was to you? You only knew him for a couple of days, Merlin. He was just some bitter old man who could speak to dragons.”
“Don’t talk about him like that.”
“Why do you care? You know as well as I do that it’s the truth.”
“Why do I care?!” Merlin screeched, almost hysterically, and something in his entire demeanour seemed to snap. His eyes danced with burning fury, but also something else. They were painted with the same deep sorrow and unshed tears that Arthur had borne witness to more times than he dared to count. And in spite of his wiry frame, the man seemed to tower over Arthur as his whole body literally shook with rage and maybe even despair.
“I care because-“ his voice broke then, and Arthur felt his throat constrict tightly as he watched Merlin. “Because Balinor - that bitter old man - was my Father, Arthur. He was my Father, and now he’s...”
Merlin trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as previously unshed tears started to fall down his cheeks. He shook his head miserably, and pushed past Arthur, making his way outside. Arthur stood in a dumbstruck haze for several moments, finding it incredibly challenging to move his limbs and go after Merlin. By the time the shock had sufficiently worn off, Merlin was already long gone.
* * * * *
The sun shone brightly in the late afternoon sky even through the expanse of forest that sat on the outskirts of Ealdor, wind blowing gently through the air and softly rustling the leaves. It was surprisingly warm for this time of year, a beautiful day to be outside and enjoying the weather. Except for Merlin, it felt like a figurative slap to the face as he rested wearily against the back of a tree, lost in his own miserable thoughts and wishing the world would just swallow him up instead. It had been a good ten minutes since he’d run out on Arthur, and he was both anticipating and dreading the conversation that they would have when the Prince inevitably came to find him. . Merlin hadn’t admitted anything about his magic, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before Arthur worked it out on his own. Much as he teased Arthur about being thick, the reality was that he was quite the opposite.
Movement in the brush behind him alerted Merlin to the fact that someone was approaching. For a moment he considered magic-ing himself somewhere else so he wouldn’t have to deal with this right now. But he knew that wouldn’t help the situation any. Taking a deep, calming breath, Merlin stood and made his presence known to the approaching figure, wiping the errant tears from his eyes, just in case.
“It took me a long time to find you,” Arthur said when he finally came to stand a few feet away from Merlin. His expression was frustratingly unreadable and Merlin almost wished he saw anger there so he had some sense of what to expect from this whole conversation.
“I’m sorry. I used to always come here when I was younger and needed to think.”
Arthur nodded but offered no explanation as to how he’d found him. Instead, he wasted no time in getting down to business, something that Merlin was actually grateful for, in a way. “So Balinor was your Father?”
Merlin indicated his assent, forcefully fighting back the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes once again. “He was.”
“I thought you didn’t know your Father.”
“I didn’t. I only found out Balinor was my Father shortly before we went off in search of him. Gaius... Gaius told me then.”
Arthur nodded, expression still indecipherable. “And it never occurred to you to tell me about this?”
Merlin hung his head in shame. He really had wanted to tell Arthur about it - even though Gaius told him not to, except...well, he honestly hadn’t even known how. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. Also, I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“Yes, well, clearly that plan failed,” Arthur snapped, face contorting when he seemed to realize what he’d just admitted. He paused thoughtfully then, as though he was sorting through something in his head. “Is that what you were upset about and refused to tell me that night in the inn?” he asked finally.
Well, there was no point in denying it now, Merlin figured. “Yes,” he admitted quietly.
“Did you keep it a secret because he was a user of magic?” Arthur asked then, and Merlin was quite sure that he would figure things out sooner rather than later.
Gaius had told him not to let Arthur know under any circumstances, but that hadn’t been the motivating factor behind his decision. “No, that’s not the reason,” Merlin answered cautiously.
Arthur frowned, folding his arms across his chest. “What else have you been hiding from me?” he asked after a moment.
Merlin should have insisted that there was nothing else - that he wasn’t keeping anything from the Prince - but something inside of him didn’t seem to want to follow through with that plan. He tried opening his mouth to protest, but no words came out. Instead, he averted his eyes to the ground and tried not to think of how bad this whole thing was going to be. Merlin’s mind screamed at him to say something, don’t let him find out or you’re going to end up on the executioner’s block. But the simple fact of the matter was that there was a part of Merlin that actually just wanted Arthur to know, even if he ended up hating him. At least there would be no more secrets...no more lies...no more sleepless nights. Of course, there might not be many more nights in general, his mind cruelly reminded him. Seconds seemed to blend into minutes, which made it feel like hours had passed when likely it was only a few moments. But the moment that Merlin raised his head to finally meet Arthur’s gaze, he knew that it had finally clicked in Arthur’s head - that he knew.
“You have magical abilities, like your Father. That’s what you’ve been hiding...why you didn’t want me to know about your Father,” Arthur said finally, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words he was saying. “You’re a sorcerer.”
Merlin nodded slowly, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. “I’m so sorry Arthur. I was born this way, it’s not something I ever asked for or wanted. I’ve done magic since before I could even understand what it was. I never meant to keep it from you, but I was in Camelot and I didn’t know how to tell you and then it was never the right time...” He trailed off upon noticing Arthur’s expression. It looked as if he had just seen his best friend die in front of his eyes. That particular thought did little to quell the building fear.
“You lied to me.” It was a statement, not a question, but the coldness in Arthur’s voice was unmistakable.
“I had no choice, Arthur. You have to believe me,” Merlin found himself practically begging. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but I just couldn’t.”
“I’m supposed to believe that you wanted to tell me when you’ve been lying to my face for the past two years?” Arthur demanded loudly, brows raised in incredulous shock. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”
Merlin swiped at his face, trying unsuccessfully to put a stop to the tears that kept flowing from his eyes. “I didn’t want to put you in the situation of having to decide between me and your Father.”
“Who’s to say there would even have been a decision to make?” Arthur asked cruelly, and Merlin felt like his world was finally crashing down at his feet. He felt sick with agony, heart pounding so fervently in his chest that he was sure it might explode at any moment in time. “Besides, why do you think that you get to decide what kinds of decisions I can and cannot handle?”
Merlin swallowed, but forced himself to make eye contact with Arthur, terrified of what he would see. “I’m sorry.” His voice came out barely more than a whisper. “I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.”
“And I’m sorry, too. Sorry that I trusted you. Sorry that you clearly think so little of me.”
“That’s not true,” Merlin protested weakly. “It couldn’t be further from the truth.”
But Arthur rounded on him, stabbing a finger into his chest angrily. “Have you ever used your magic against me?”
“No! I would never do anything to hurt you,” Merlin insisted firmly, knowing that he had never uttered truer words. Sure there was that one time that he’d almost dropped the boulder on Arthur while trying to protect Freya, but that had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to put Arthur at risk; he’d simply miscalculated the boulder’s projected course. He still felt sick about that every so often, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time and had acted on an emotion-induced whim. “I’ve only used my magic to help you and to protect you. Never anything else. Well, except for some chores sometimes, but never anything malicious.”
“How do I know you haven’t manipulated me in some way?” Arthur eyed him wearily, but his expression was unusually blank.
“What do you mean?” Merlin inquired, not understanding what he was trying to ask.
“I mean manipulated my mind, my behaviour, my thoughts. To make me do, or think, strange things,” he answered, again in that detached, blank sort of way.
Merlin blanched, taken off guard by the question. “No, of course not.”
“You could just be saying that. For all I know you’re lying,” Arthur shot back.
“I’m not lying Arthur,” Merlin told him firmly, desperately fighting down the hysteria that he was struggling to keep at bay. Every second that passed made it harder and harder to do, however. “If you believe nothing else I say, believe this: I would never do anything to hurt or harm you, physically or psychologically. I swear that on my life.”
“And did you ever stop to think that this betrayal might hurt me, Merlin?” the Prince demanded, sounding on the verge of hysterics himself.
“What choice did I have?” he roared, choking back a sob. Merlin felt as if his heart were literally being ripped from his chest and set on fire. “If I were found out, I would have been killed. I couldn’t risk being separated from you, so I did what I had to do to keep us both safe.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I could have kept you safe? That maybe we could have been working together instead?” Arthur was yelling now, screaming practically at the top of his lungs, and Merlin was thankful they were at least out in a forest away from Ealdor. “I trusted you Merlin. With my life.”
Merlin swallowed hard. “You still can trust me, Arthur. The only thing that’s changed is that you now know I have magic.”
“How? How can I do that now, knowing that you’re a sorcerer? I thought I knew you, Merlin.” There was an added element of sadness to his tone this time around, and that hurt even more than his anger had.
“You do!” Merlin cried, legs starting to wobble just slightly.
Arthur paused, staring intently at Merlin for several moments before finally speaking. “I don’t know how I can ever trust you again.” And with that, he turned and started walking away. Away from Merlin, away from their destiny, and away from the last remnants of hope Merlin still had left.
“Arthur, wait,” Merlin begged hoarsely as a wave of fresh tears started to spill over onto his still-damp cheeks, but the Prince barely even flinched.
Watching him stalk away, Merlin sunk heavily to the ground in a listless heap and truly sobbed for the first time in his entire life. He thought he’d experienced as much pain as was humanly possible for one person to experience, but Merlin knew now that it hadn’t been true until this very moment in time, and for the first time in his life, he wished he could just curl up into a ball and die.
* * * * *
Arthur stalked away from Merlin without a second glance, but there was something that prevented him from leaving the forest entirely, so instead he paced back and forth on the outskirts, silently seething. Even from this distance he could hear Merlin’s sobs, but he tried to push the sound from his consciousness. Arthur wanted to break something, to reach out and punch a tree or do anything else in order to make his own pain feel less prominent. However, the simple fact was that Merlin had lied to him, and that was not something he could so easily forget. The part that hurt the most, though, was not that Merlin had lied. A part of Arthur could understand his reasoning for that, considering they lived in a realm that despised and killed those who possessed magical abilities. The part that hurt Arthur was that Merlin hadn’t trusted him enough to share this part of him; hadn’t trusted him enough to know that Arthur wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Arthur had so many questions, many of which he suspected he likely would not want to know the actual answers to, but he first needed to figure out how to properly process all of this overwhelming information.
Uther had raised Arthur in a land and a time when sorcery of any sort was seen only as evil. Arthur himself had never quite fully subscribed to the thought, because he believed that surely not every sorcerer could be bent on destruction and on causing harm to others. It seemed too convenient. He’d even met some that had not done anything to hurt others until they were threatened themselves. Of course, his Father’s response to that line of thinking would be that they may not have done anything yet, but they would, if given enough time. Arthur had fought against the stereotype all his life, but if even Merlin of all people could deceive him like that, it made Arthur question whether his Father may have been right after all. Sorcerers couldn’t be trusted. Even Merlin had proven that much to him, much as he may have been at least partially justified in doing so.
The thing that Arthur couldn’t quite seem to process was that he knew Merlin. Merlin was an idiot, generally incompetent, and as clumsy as could be. But he had a good heart, and was fiercely loyal. It didn’t make sense that Merlin could be both a sorcerer and an evil person bent on destroying Camelot. The two were mutually exclusive, or at least they had to be. Otherwise Arthur’s world truly did not make any sense, and he didn’t know that he could ever trust another soul again, if he had truly been deceived by Merlin.
Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, picking up a stick from the ground and tossing it errantly into the clearing in front of him. It was at this point that he his mind seemed to re-tune itself to the sound of crying in the distance. Arthur figured at least ten minutes had passed without any distinctive indication that Merlin’s sobs were going to subside in the immediate future, and as furious as he was, the sound was enough to shatter even the coldest of hearts. It particularly hurt Arthur, knowing that he was the primary source of the sorrow currently wracking his friend’s body, even if Merlin had brought it on himself in the first place.
Clenching his fists briefly, Arthur made another snap decision, heading back in the direction of his manservant. When he finally reached the man, he saw that Merlin was sitting on the ground with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried into his knees, body shaking with sobs. Arthur had never seen Merlin look so small or pitiful in his life, and in spite of every lie that he’d told and everything that he’d kept from Arthur, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Merlin was remorseful for those actions. If he’d been bent on the destruction of Camelot, then he wouldn’t care that Arthur knew, and he wouldn’t be crying like this now.
Kneeling down on the ground beside Merlin, Arthur reached out and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Merlin started, jumping when his tear-stained eyes met Arthur’s, but he didn’t pull away. However, he also didn’t stop crying, and Arthur wanted nothing more than for that sound to go away. So without another thought, Arthur gently pulled Merlin into his arms, holding him tightly as though he were a small child who needed protection. After a few moments the other man shifted slightly, turning his face further into Arthur’s chest as Arthur rubbed soothing circles down his back.
Several minutes passed before Merlin finally stopped crying altogether, and when he eventually pulled free of Arthur’s grip, he averted his eyes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured weakly, voice scratchy and hoarse from crying.
Arthur sighed and leaned back on his heels. “I know you are,” he replied a couple of moments later.
They sat in silence then, breathing slowly, thoughtfully. Neither felt in any rush to move, and so they didn’t for many minutes.
Merlin was the first one to finally speak. “I know I lied to you, but you have to know that I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you Arthur. No matter what you decide about me, please believe that.”
The look of sheer desperation in his eyes was more than enough for Arthur to know that he was, in fact, telling the truth. Arthur was still angry at being lied to, and he truly didn’t know yet how to react to the fact that he was a sorcerer, but that didn’t change the fact that Merlin was still one of the most important people in Arthur’s life, and that Arthur cared very deeply for him.
“I believe you,” Arthur told him eventually and fought the urge to reach out and touch him.
Merlin smiled then, red-faced and covered in tears and dirt, but he looked happy. It was a look that Arthur hadn’t seen in a long time.
“We should probably head back and get you cleaned up,” Arthur finally suggested, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his trousers. He offered a hand to Merlin, who stared at it for a few seconds before accepting the assistance. They walked back towards Merlin’s home side by side in silence.
* * * * *
That evening, Merlin and Arthur ended up sleeping in the barn, not unlike how they had the first time they’d both been in Ealdor at the same time. Except the only difference was that Gwen and Morgana were no longer sleeping practically next to them.
“Arthur, you can take my bed,” Hunith had offered shortly after they’d finished eating dinner.
But Arthur shook his head adamantly, placing a dry dish down on the table in front of him. “No, Hunith, I can’t possibly do that.”
She’d simply smiled at him in that loving Motherly way that Arthur had always wished for but never really was able to experience himself. “Don’t be silly. You’re my guest,” she’d insisted with a flip of her wrist.
“Yes, but a completely unexpected one,” he’d tried again, glancing at Merlin for some back-up.
“A guest is a guest, unexpected or not,” came her clever retort, and Arthur proceeded to stare pointedly at Merlin who was still washing the last remaining dishes from dinner.
“Mum,” Merlin finally chimed in, “Arthur can be as stubborn as an ass. It’s not worth arguing with him over it. Why doesn’t he just sleep in the barn like last time? There’s even fresh hay.”
Arthur shot Merlin a particularly nasty scowl, which seemed to have absolutely no effect on the warlock whatsoever. “Yes, thank you Merlin.” To Hunith he said, “The barn will be fine, I assure you. Thank you for your hospitality, Hunith.”
She studied him for a moment before nodding her assent. “All right, then it’s settled.”
“Except I think that Merlin should join me as well. In case I need anything during the night,” Arthur added as an afterthought and tossed a satisfied smirk in his manservant’s direction.
Arthur now found himself burrowing under blankets that had been laid on top of a pile of hay. It certainly wasn’t the standard of accommodation he was accustomed to, but it wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Merlin lay a few feet away from Arthur, also wrapped up in blankets. Arthur was both physically exhausted from his journey, as well as mentally exhausted from the events of the day, but he inexplicably found himself more fascinated with watching Merlin a few feet away, back facing the Prince. He watched as Merlin shifted several times in an attempt to find a comfortable position. He stared at his right shoulder as it slowly rose and fell with each breath Merlin took. He took note of the pale skin at the back of Merlin’s neck and was suddenly utterly curious about what it would feel like to kiss and suck at that expanse of skin.
Pushing aside the thought, he rolled onto his back and attempted to get comfortable. After a few minutes, Arthur sat up and decided to try and rearrange the hay beneath his blankets.
“Do you need some help?” Merlin asked eventually, when it was obvious that Arthur was struggling with the task, but Arthur was never one to admit when he needed assistance, and he certainly wasn’t about to do so over some hay.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own, Merlin,” he retorted firmly, pulling out a handful of hay and tossing it haphazardly to the side. Merlin simply shrugged and pulled his blanket up higher.
A good five minutes later, Arthur finally gave up on the hay situation and decided that what he had was good enough for one night. Getting back under his blankets and laying down once again, he noted the fascination with which Merlin watched his every movement. He seemed to have something on his mind, but thus far had remained unusually silent.
“What is it?” Arthur asked several moments later, when it became clear that Merlin wasn’t going to say anything.
“It’s nothing…” Merlin told him softly.
But Arthur shook his head. “No, don’t give me that. Haven’t there been enough secrets already? I want to know what it is that’s going through your thick skull at the moment.”
A soft laugh came from Merlin, though it didn’t sound particularly joyful. “I just… Sometimes I thought this day would never come. Or when it did, that things would have turned out differently…”
A curious brow shot up Arthur’s forehead, though he doubted if Merlin could tell from where he lay. “Differently how?”
Merlin shrugged, which looked somewhat amusing since he was lying on his side. “Differently in that you would hate me for keeping this from you. Or send me into exile. Or have me beheaded for the practice of sorcery, either immediately or when we returned to Camelot. There were a lot of options, really.” He paused and seemed to bury further under his blankets, if that were even possible.
“Of course, I suppose I can’t know for sure that you won’t do any of those things,” he muttered quietly…softly…almost as if he’d only meant the words for his own ears.
Arthur huffed an audible sigh of frustration. “Make no mistake, Merlin. I’m still furious with you, and I’m sure that will only get worse when we actually have a full conversation about this. Look, I know I’m not always the easiest person to deal with. But you have to know…” he paused, swallowed, collected his thoughts again. “You have to know that I’d never allow anyone to hurt you. Not my Father, not anyone.”
“I just figured that… Well, I thought…”
“You thought what?” Arthur asked, hoping that he wouldn’t say what it seemed like he was going to say.
Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head gently. “I’m sorry,” he said instead of answering the question. “I just feel like I’m always on the verge of facing my impending death... I’ve never truly known what to expect when you found out about my magic.” The sadness in his voice hit a chord with Arthur and he felt as if the wind had literally been knocked out of him. Did Merlin really believe that he was going to turn him over to his Father when they returned to Camelot?
“Merlin,” Arthur said forcefully, and sat up. Dragging his blankets behind him (because it was quite cold, in spite of the warmth of the day), Arthur closed the distance between them and only stopped when he was literally sitting right beside his manservant. Merlin simply stared up at Arthur, wide-eyed and concerned, a mildly perplexed expression dancing across his features before he also sat up, facing the Prince.
“Merlin,” Arthur started again, and reached out to place a firm hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “No matter how mad I may be at you, I’d never allow anything to happen to you. You need to believe that in the same way that you want me to believe you’d never hurt me with your magic.”
Merlin stares at Arthur long and hard, blue eyes piercing his in spite of the limited light in the barn. Arthur thought he might be searching to see if Arthur really was being genuine, so he sat there quietly, simply staring back at the man in front of him. A few breaths passed before Merlin seemed to reach a satisfactory conclusion, nodding his head once but never breaking eye contact.
“I know. I believe you,” he said softly. Then, “Thank you.”
Arthur nodded and smiled, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder briefly. He knew he should probably move away from Merlin, but something about the air between them had changed in the past few minutes, and he felt anticipation begin to build in his belly. In an attempt to break the already prolonged physical contact, Arthur trailed his hand lightly down Merlin’s chest, but instead of pulling away, his hand stopped to rest against the other man’s heart. Arthur could feel the pounding of Merlin’s heartbeat beneath his hand, thrumming steadily, and he instinctively leaned in closer. Merlin watched him through wild, excited eyes and they simply stared at one another, breathing heavily as the tension crackled between them.
He could feel Merlin’s breath coming out in short puffs against his cheek, and Arthur finally decided to close the gap between them, tugging Merlin forward by his tunic. Merlin responded almost immediately, opening his mouth to Arthur and deepening the kiss as tongue ran over tongue and they explored each other’s mouths in a way that they’d been afraid to for so long. He tasted both salty and sweet, almost how Arthur had imagined Merlin would taste when he’d dreamt of this moment. Hands moved to tangle in each other’s hair as they revelled in the feel and taste of one another.
After a few minutes, Arthur dragged Merlin towards him, practically pulling the other man into his lap as he sought out more contact. There had been too much space between their bodies and Arthur wanted none of that. They broke apart briefly to pull some air into their lungs before continuing to explore each other’s mouths and bodies ravenously, all hands and lips and soft moans.
“Too much clothing,” Arthur eventually murmured against Merlin’s lips. He pulled away for only as long as it took to remove their tunics and toss them aside, then pulled Merlin back into his arms, relishing the feel of skin against skin.
Arthur kissed Merlin hungrily, teasing and sucking at his tongue and lips as his hands roamed up and down Merlin’s back and chest. He heard Merlin moan softly and Arthur instinctively bucked his hips up against the man in his arms. They both gasped as their cocks rubbed against each other through the fabric of their trousers, consumed by waves of pleasure and desire. Placing a steadying hand against Merlin’s back to hold him in place, Arthur reached between them and rubbed the bulge in Merlin’s trousers teasingly. The sharp intake of breath from Merlin momentarily halted their kissing, until he grabbed at Arthur’s hair and pulled him back against his mouth.
Arthur gently lowered Merlin down to the blanket and started trailing gentle kisses down his throat and neck, then moved down to his chest, pausing to carefully nip and suck at each nipple; taking care to give each one special attention. “Gods Arthur,” Merlin moaned, writhing in pleasure beneath his caresses as he grasped at Arthur’s hair, holding on tightly.
Arthur continued his ministrations south until his mouth found itself at the strings of Merlin’s trousers. Mischievously Arthur placed a soft kiss to the top of the bulge, holding Merlin’s hips down as he tried to buck up at the contact. With a little smirk, Arthur pushed himself up and started to work at Merlin’s drawstrings, feeling his own arousal spike even more, though he wasn’t even sure if he could get any harder than he already was.
He had Merlin’s trousers untied and was about to slip them down his hips when he felt two hands come to rest atop his. Shooting his gaze upwards, he glanced curiously into Merlin’s dark eyes. Eyes that were suddenly tainted with worry and fear and something else Arthur couldn’t quite identify.
“What is it?” he asked, and was suddenly filled with a sense of dread. What if he’d read the whole situation wrong and Merlin didn’t really want this as much as he did? What if he told him to stop and leave him alone? Arthur would of course respect Merlin’s wishes, but he felt his heart drop in his chest at the sudden spike of apprehension that filled him.
What Merlin said ended up being completely unexpected. “What about Gwen?” he asked, voice carefully masked in spite of his ragged breathing.
“Guinevere?!” Arthur blurted out, only belatedly realising he’d said the words out loud. “What about Gwen? And why are you asking about her now?”
“I just... I need to know. Before you and I... Well, before we do anything,” Merlin told him, gesturing wildly between them at the words ‘do anything.’
Arthur pushed past the fogginess in his brain to try and make sense of what Merlin was trying to say. “You need to know what, Merlin?”
Merlin glanced down, almost as if he were embarrassed, before muttering in a barely audible voice, “If you’re in love with her.”
Arthur simply stared, dumfounded, at his half-naked servant.
“Because if you are, then I don’t want us to do this,” Merlin proceeded to explain. “I mean, I do want us to do this. Really very badly, actually. But I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice, nor do I want to hurt a friend like that. I might still do it anyway, because I’d rather have you once than never at all, but... I just need to know.”
Merlin closed his mouth and then shut his eyes, almost as if the thought of seeing what was going on in Arthur’s mind would be too much for him to bear. Arthur took a steadying breath and tried to sort through where on earth Merlin was coming form. Sure, he cared for Gwen. And he had stated as much on more than one occasion. The problem was that it was all far more complicated than Merlin understood and exceedingly convoluted. What he felt for Guinevere ran deep, but it wasn’t something that could easily be explained with a few simple words. The one thing he was certain of, though, was that he was not in love with her, though he would admit that he felt both love and respect for her. Arthur’s feelings for Merlin, on the other hand, were very clear and he knew precisely where he stood on that subject. It was something he had attempted to quell over the past year, but in the end he’d realised that there was no point in pushing someone away who would always, inexplicably work his way back into Arthur’s heart. The fact that Merlin was concerned about Gwen at a time like this spoke volumes about his true character, and Arthur felt his respect for the man grow even more.
Then there was the fact that Merlin clearly reciprocated Arthur’s feelings, and it suddenly changed everything. This was dangerous territory to stray into in the best of times, never mind the other minor detail that Merlin was also a sorcerer. But Arthur didn’t want to sort out all the details at the moment. There would be time for that later. Right now he was here with Merlin and for all the sorrow and despair that his friend had felt over the past couple of months, Arthur wanted to show him that there was still room for happiness, pleasure and love.
Reaching down, Arthur stroked Merlin’s cheek gently until he opened his eyes and finally met the Prince’s gaze. “I don’t love Guinevere, all right? I know it may seem like that, but it’s not true. We can talk about this later, but just know that I’m not in love with her.”
Merlin shot him a dubious look as his brows knitted together thoughtfully.
“Do you think I’d honestly be here doing this with you if I felt that way about someone else?” He paused for a moment. “Look, maybe this isn’t what you need right now,” Arthur suggested reluctantly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Merlin’s temple. He didn’t want to have this conversation at this very moment, but if it was the only way to convince Merlin, then he supposed he’d have to just explain everything to him.
But Merlin shook his head. “You don’t know what I need,” Merlin retorted, eyes dark and heady as he arched up, capturing Arthur’s mouth with his own in a surprisingly filthy open-mouthed kiss. Arthur groaned and shifted so he was lying almost entirely on top of Merlin, pressing every inch of their bodies together and rocking his hips gently against Merlin’s.
“Do you even know what you need?” Arthur queried when they finally broke apart, breathless and panting into each other’s mouths.
“I need you Arthur. Always you, only you.”
And in spite of all the unknowns still hanging between them, at that very moment in time, it was enough.
---------------------------
FIN
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: See previous part! :)
Part One
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It’s Dangerous Business, Walking out Your Door - Part 2
Hunith was out gathering another pail of water to use for washing when she heard the sound of hooves trotting up to the village entrance. She glanced up at the rider who had just entered, but didn’t note anything particularly significant about him. He wore black trousers, black boots and had a hooded cape that mostly covered his face. It was not so common to have visitors to Ealdor, but Hunith also knew that the village was often a good place to stop for weary travellers. She hauled the bucket of water over to where the mysterious stranger was just stepping off his horse.
“Welcome to Ealdor,” she told him warmly. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I’m looking for a wiry, clumsy, brown-haired kid about this high,” he raised his hand to hover approximately at the top of his head. Hunith knitted her brows together, as she instantly recognized something familiar about the voice, but couldn’t quite place it.
“His name’s Merlin. You might know him?” And then the man slid the hood from his head to reveal his identity.
“Arthur!” she cried out in delighted surprise, and her face immediately broke into a grin. Before the man even had time to react, she was pulling him into a tight hug, overjoyed that he was here in Ealdor and already wondering why that was. She felt him stiffen involuntarily in her arms before he allowed himself to relax and return the gesture in kind.
Hunith had always liked Arthur, from the very first moment she’d met him. He was polite and respectful, dignified and caring. The whole village was still grateful for his assistance the previous year, when he’d stepped in to help them in a time of dire need. There were not many Princes out there who would risk so much for their servant’s village, and the man had won her respect from that moment on. She also knew that he was good for Merlin, and that he’d been good to her son. Hunith was uncertain as to why he was here now, but a part of her heart leapt at the idea that he’d simply come for Merlin. Their bond was incredibly strong, she knew. Possibly even stronger than either had really fully come to grasp just yet, and his presence here was significant somehow.
“It’s good to see you Hunith,” Arthur told her warmly when she released him from her grip.
“As it is to see you,” she returned, and absently reached down to grab hold of the bucket once again.
Being the gentlemen he was, though, Arthur placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Let me?” he asked, and she was happy to oblige.
* * * * *
When the door opened, Merlin glanced up, poised to ask his Mum where she’d put his trousers the other day. However, the words abruptly died in his throat upon beholding the person who had entered the house instead.
“Arthur?” Merlin froze in place, his eyes widening and giving off the appearance of a hunted deer. His gaze shifted in the direction of Hunith, and the look of near panic seemed to only intensify briefly before it became a mask once again.
“Merlin,” Arthur responded slowly. This wasn’t quite the reaction he was expecting upon his arrival. Though, when he really thought about it, it wasn’t as if he had something specific in mind. The look of mild terror on his manservant’s face wasn’t exactly reassuring, however.
When it seemed as if Merlin still wasn’t planning on saying anything intelligent, he carried on. “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve seen me, but surely even you can’t be that daft.” It was meant as a joke; Arthur even smiled when he said it. Merlin didn’t seem to find it quite as humorous.
“What are you doing here, Arthur?” he asked, stepping back from the table and wiping his hands on the rag hanging on the back of a chair. He sounded tired and weary.
Arthur raised a single brow in mild amusement. “Well, see, that’s an interesting question. I used to have this servant - completely incompetent; worst one I’ve ever known, by the way - and one day he asked to go on a trip home. So naturally I, being the gracious and caring Prince that I am, allowed him the time off he needed to go on this trip. Except said manservant never actually returned from his trip, nor did he inform the Prince of his intentions to stay longer.”
There was slightly more to the story, including the fact that the Prince had lied to his Father about where he was going, and that he had come here with the express purpose of finding and bringing Merlin back to Camelot, but Arthur figured that those were just side details that didn’t need to be shared at the moment.
Merlin at least had the good grace to look sufficiently sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he responded after a moment, eyes cast downward in an oddly submissive gesture. “I meant to head back, and I meant to send word to you that I wanted to stay, but I couldn’t ever make up my mind.”
“Well you could have done something,” Arthur chided, though it was lacking his usual fervour. “I need a servant I can rely on, you know. Someone who does what he says and doesn’t disappear for extended periods of time without telling me. I’ve been-“ He stopped himself then. Worried. I’ve been worried about you was what he was going to say, but for some reason he didn’t think it would be a good idea to finish the thought. It revealed a lot about his relationship with Merlin to admit that he’d been concerned about him. Princes were not supposed to care so deeply about their servants that they worried about their mental health. Nor were they supposed to follow their servants back to their hometowns in order to bring them back home. Then again, it was probably the least of everything he’d done for or because of Merlin in the last several months, breaking the law and becoming a seasoned liar not withstanding.
Merlin, however, was not known for subtlety, nor for recognizing it. “You’ve been what?”
“Never mind,” Arthur told him hurriedly, casting a sidelong glance in Hunith’s direction. “Maybe we should go outside?” he suggested after a moment, thinking that it would probably be best if Hunith wasn’t subjected to this conversation, as it was likely to get heated, if their past history was any indication.
Merlin’s mouth opened, probably to protest, but before he had even begun forming the words, Hunith chimed in. “I actually promised Mrs Weedley I’d stop by and visit her this afternoon, so I’ll leave you boys to talk.” And without another word, she quietly excused herself from the house.
Merlin and Arthur simply stared at one another for several moments following her departure, engaging in a silent battle of wills. The impending conversation would be nothing short of onerous, Arthur knew, but he didn’t want to avoid it forever. Whatever it was that Merlin was dealing with, Arthur was determined to get some answers and then do whatever he could to help make things better somehow.
“So, what’s really going on?” Arthur ventured eventually.
“What do you mean?” The genuine innocence in his blue eyes was almost startling, though Arthur was quite convinced that Merlin knew damn well what he was talking about.
“Come on Merlin, you can’t honestly take me for that much of a fool,” he began, but when he noticed the slight twitch of Merlin’s mouth, he quickly added, “That was rhetorical. Anyway, I know something has been bothering you for quite a while now, in spite of your numerous protestations to the contrary. You’re even more distracted than usual, you’ve been more emotional than ever before, and you’ve barely even insulted me in the past month.” The tiny smirk that formed on Merlin’s face felt like a small victory somehow. “And may the gods help me, but I’ve even started missing listening to your inane drivel. There’s something oddly comforting about it…”
“Why thank you, Sire,” Merlin droned dryly, but there was a touch of humour and sarcasm rolled into the comment.
“Plus, you asked for two weeks to come and visit your Mum, and now it’s been close to a month. With no word from you whatsoever, I might add. Were you even planning on coming back to Camelot?”
“Of course I was!” Merlin insisted confidently. “I’m sorry I never contacted you. That wasn’t right. But you should know that I’d never just leave without telling you.”
Arthur blinked, raising both eyebrows questioningly. “Really? Because I’m not sure how I would know that unless I had the skill of clairvoyance. You never talk to me any more.”
“I talk to you all the time,” he protested adamantly, scrunching up his face in a way that should have looked ridiculous, but Arthur mostly just found it adorable. He shook his head to clear the thought away as Merlin continued to ramble. “Just because I’ve been quiet lately doesn’t mean I don’t talk.”
“But it’s not about anything important. Every time I ask you what’s wrong, you ignore me or change the subject.”
“Have you ever considered that maybe it’s just none of your damn business?” Merlin shot back, eyes alighting with fiery indignation. But it was the most animated he’d seen his servant in quite some time, so Arthur was glad to continue to fuel the fire.
“And have you ever considered that maybe I’m asking because I care? Because I’m your friend?”
“I thought you were the one who said we couldn’t ever be friends, since you’re a Prince and all? Sire.”
Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. Sometimes Merlin really could be unbelievably dense. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Look, officially I can’t actually call you my friend. Traditionally Princes are not allowed to be friends with their servants. And it could put you at risk, never mind me, if word were to get out. But I kind of hoped… I assumed you would get it… Well, I guess I shouldn’t have assumed that you would understand what it was I was saying that day…”
“I’d settle for understanding what you’re trying to say right now,” Merlin cut in cheekily, and Arthur shot him a warning glare.
“What I’m saying, Merlin,” he drawled, throwing extra emphasis on his name, “is that you are my friend. And much as it pains me to admit it, you’re probably the closest friend I’ve ever had. I just can’t acknowledge that in public. I assumed...well, I assumed that you would get the meaning behind my words. I thought I was being quite clear on the matter. Apparently my expectations exceeded logistics though.”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed slightly, arms folded loosely across his chest, as he seemed to study Arthur thoughtfully.
“Thank you,” he said finally, though he didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as Arthur would have expected. Then again, nothing had really gone as expected on this whole trip thus far, so he figured he should be used to this by now.
“You don’t sound overly thrilled by this information,” Arthur remarked casually.
“What, did you want me to throw a feast in your honour?”
A burst of disbelieving laughter erupted from Arthur’s mouth. “No, of course not, you idiot. I’m just saying...”
Merlin did an uncannily accurate imitation of Gaius, his eyebrows quirking pointedly. “You’re just saying what?”
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but then decided against it, promptly shutting it once more. There were several ways to proceed at this point, but he couldn’t quite figure out which one would lead to the most satisfactory result. Eventually he went with, “It doesn’t matter. That’s beside the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Merlin challenged. Arthur was getting a little sick and tired of hearing the same type of comment getting thrown back in his face over and over again.
“The point is that there’s something wrong with you, and I want to know what it is.”
“Why are you so convinced that there’s something wrong with me?”
“Because I know you, Merlin. We already went through this. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Because there isn’t anything wrong, Arthur.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Merlin frowned heavily, face twisted into a full scowl now as he took a step towards Arthur. “Well that’s just too damn bad for you, isn’t it?”
“Why are you making such a big deal about this?”
“I think you’re the one who’s making this out to be more than it is. I’ve told you there’s nothing wrong, so leave me alone.” Merlin turned away from Arthur then, standing with his back towards the Prince.
“Why are you so resistant to telling me? Maybe I can help.” Arthur reached out and placed a tentative hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but he jerked away roughly, turning to face Arthur once again.
“There’s nothing you can do to help because there’s nothing wrong. I’m fine,” he tried to explain, but Arthur heard reluctance in his voice, and wondered if he was finally breaking through the barrier Merlin had placed between them.
Of course Arthur, being Arthur, had a tendency to say and do stupid things at inopportune times, and this was no exception. “You haven’t been fine in a long time. But especially since the whole incident with the dragon lord fellow, whatever his name was. You can’t tell me you’re still upset over that.” He regretted the words instantly, knowing they conveyed accusation instead of understanding and compassion, like he’d intended.
Suddenly Merlin’s eyes were filled with rage as he advanced angrily on Arthur, shoving him back. “His name was Balinor,” he practically growled.
“Excuse me. But I don’t see why it matters,” Arthur shot back, having no idea why Merlin was so furious but starting to feel thoroughly ticked off himself, in spite of knowing that this line of conversation would likely lead nowhere good. “It’s not like he was anyone important.”
“Maybe not to you...” There was a strong ‘but’ in there somewhere, yet Arthur hadn’t a clue as to why.
There was something dangerous about Merlin’s voice and his eyes, but Arthur was too annoyed to really care at this point. “But he was to you? You only knew him for a couple of days, Merlin. He was just some bitter old man who could speak to dragons.”
“Don’t talk about him like that.”
“Why do you care? You know as well as I do that it’s the truth.”
“Why do I care?!” Merlin screeched, almost hysterically, and something in his entire demeanour seemed to snap. His eyes danced with burning fury, but also something else. They were painted with the same deep sorrow and unshed tears that Arthur had borne witness to more times than he dared to count. And in spite of his wiry frame, the man seemed to tower over Arthur as his whole body literally shook with rage and maybe even despair.
“I care because-“ his voice broke then, and Arthur felt his throat constrict tightly as he watched Merlin. “Because Balinor - that bitter old man - was my Father, Arthur. He was my Father, and now he’s...”
Merlin trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as previously unshed tears started to fall down his cheeks. He shook his head miserably, and pushed past Arthur, making his way outside. Arthur stood in a dumbstruck haze for several moments, finding it incredibly challenging to move his limbs and go after Merlin. By the time the shock had sufficiently worn off, Merlin was already long gone.
* * * * *
The sun shone brightly in the late afternoon sky even through the expanse of forest that sat on the outskirts of Ealdor, wind blowing gently through the air and softly rustling the leaves. It was surprisingly warm for this time of year, a beautiful day to be outside and enjoying the weather. Except for Merlin, it felt like a figurative slap to the face as he rested wearily against the back of a tree, lost in his own miserable thoughts and wishing the world would just swallow him up instead. It had been a good ten minutes since he’d run out on Arthur, and he was both anticipating and dreading the conversation that they would have when the Prince inevitably came to find him. . Merlin hadn’t admitted anything about his magic, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before Arthur worked it out on his own. Much as he teased Arthur about being thick, the reality was that he was quite the opposite.
Movement in the brush behind him alerted Merlin to the fact that someone was approaching. For a moment he considered magic-ing himself somewhere else so he wouldn’t have to deal with this right now. But he knew that wouldn’t help the situation any. Taking a deep, calming breath, Merlin stood and made his presence known to the approaching figure, wiping the errant tears from his eyes, just in case.
“It took me a long time to find you,” Arthur said when he finally came to stand a few feet away from Merlin. His expression was frustratingly unreadable and Merlin almost wished he saw anger there so he had some sense of what to expect from this whole conversation.
“I’m sorry. I used to always come here when I was younger and needed to think.”
Arthur nodded but offered no explanation as to how he’d found him. Instead, he wasted no time in getting down to business, something that Merlin was actually grateful for, in a way. “So Balinor was your Father?”
Merlin indicated his assent, forcefully fighting back the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes once again. “He was.”
“I thought you didn’t know your Father.”
“I didn’t. I only found out Balinor was my Father shortly before we went off in search of him. Gaius... Gaius told me then.”
Arthur nodded, expression still indecipherable. “And it never occurred to you to tell me about this?”
Merlin hung his head in shame. He really had wanted to tell Arthur about it - even though Gaius told him not to, except...well, he honestly hadn’t even known how. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. Also, I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“Yes, well, clearly that plan failed,” Arthur snapped, face contorting when he seemed to realize what he’d just admitted. He paused thoughtfully then, as though he was sorting through something in his head. “Is that what you were upset about and refused to tell me that night in the inn?” he asked finally.
Well, there was no point in denying it now, Merlin figured. “Yes,” he admitted quietly.
“Did you keep it a secret because he was a user of magic?” Arthur asked then, and Merlin was quite sure that he would figure things out sooner rather than later.
Gaius had told him not to let Arthur know under any circumstances, but that hadn’t been the motivating factor behind his decision. “No, that’s not the reason,” Merlin answered cautiously.
Arthur frowned, folding his arms across his chest. “What else have you been hiding from me?” he asked after a moment.
Merlin should have insisted that there was nothing else - that he wasn’t keeping anything from the Prince - but something inside of him didn’t seem to want to follow through with that plan. He tried opening his mouth to protest, but no words came out. Instead, he averted his eyes to the ground and tried not to think of how bad this whole thing was going to be. Merlin’s mind screamed at him to say something, don’t let him find out or you’re going to end up on the executioner’s block. But the simple fact of the matter was that there was a part of Merlin that actually just wanted Arthur to know, even if he ended up hating him. At least there would be no more secrets...no more lies...no more sleepless nights. Of course, there might not be many more nights in general, his mind cruelly reminded him. Seconds seemed to blend into minutes, which made it feel like hours had passed when likely it was only a few moments. But the moment that Merlin raised his head to finally meet Arthur’s gaze, he knew that it had finally clicked in Arthur’s head - that he knew.
“You have magical abilities, like your Father. That’s what you’ve been hiding...why you didn’t want me to know about your Father,” Arthur said finally, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words he was saying. “You’re a sorcerer.”
Merlin nodded slowly, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. “I’m so sorry Arthur. I was born this way, it’s not something I ever asked for or wanted. I’ve done magic since before I could even understand what it was. I never meant to keep it from you, but I was in Camelot and I didn’t know how to tell you and then it was never the right time...” He trailed off upon noticing Arthur’s expression. It looked as if he had just seen his best friend die in front of his eyes. That particular thought did little to quell the building fear.
“You lied to me.” It was a statement, not a question, but the coldness in Arthur’s voice was unmistakable.
“I had no choice, Arthur. You have to believe me,” Merlin found himself practically begging. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but I just couldn’t.”
“I’m supposed to believe that you wanted to tell me when you’ve been lying to my face for the past two years?” Arthur demanded loudly, brows raised in incredulous shock. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”
Merlin swiped at his face, trying unsuccessfully to put a stop to the tears that kept flowing from his eyes. “I didn’t want to put you in the situation of having to decide between me and your Father.”
“Who’s to say there would even have been a decision to make?” Arthur asked cruelly, and Merlin felt like his world was finally crashing down at his feet. He felt sick with agony, heart pounding so fervently in his chest that he was sure it might explode at any moment in time. “Besides, why do you think that you get to decide what kinds of decisions I can and cannot handle?”
Merlin swallowed, but forced himself to make eye contact with Arthur, terrified of what he would see. “I’m sorry.” His voice came out barely more than a whisper. “I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.”
“And I’m sorry, too. Sorry that I trusted you. Sorry that you clearly think so little of me.”
“That’s not true,” Merlin protested weakly. “It couldn’t be further from the truth.”
But Arthur rounded on him, stabbing a finger into his chest angrily. “Have you ever used your magic against me?”
“No! I would never do anything to hurt you,” Merlin insisted firmly, knowing that he had never uttered truer words. Sure there was that one time that he’d almost dropped the boulder on Arthur while trying to protect Freya, but that had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to put Arthur at risk; he’d simply miscalculated the boulder’s projected course. He still felt sick about that every so often, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time and had acted on an emotion-induced whim. “I’ve only used my magic to help you and to protect you. Never anything else. Well, except for some chores sometimes, but never anything malicious.”
“How do I know you haven’t manipulated me in some way?” Arthur eyed him wearily, but his expression was unusually blank.
“What do you mean?” Merlin inquired, not understanding what he was trying to ask.
“I mean manipulated my mind, my behaviour, my thoughts. To make me do, or think, strange things,” he answered, again in that detached, blank sort of way.
Merlin blanched, taken off guard by the question. “No, of course not.”
“You could just be saying that. For all I know you’re lying,” Arthur shot back.
“I’m not lying Arthur,” Merlin told him firmly, desperately fighting down the hysteria that he was struggling to keep at bay. Every second that passed made it harder and harder to do, however. “If you believe nothing else I say, believe this: I would never do anything to hurt or harm you, physically or psychologically. I swear that on my life.”
“And did you ever stop to think that this betrayal might hurt me, Merlin?” the Prince demanded, sounding on the verge of hysterics himself.
“What choice did I have?” he roared, choking back a sob. Merlin felt as if his heart were literally being ripped from his chest and set on fire. “If I were found out, I would have been killed. I couldn’t risk being separated from you, so I did what I had to do to keep us both safe.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I could have kept you safe? That maybe we could have been working together instead?” Arthur was yelling now, screaming practically at the top of his lungs, and Merlin was thankful they were at least out in a forest away from Ealdor. “I trusted you Merlin. With my life.”
Merlin swallowed hard. “You still can trust me, Arthur. The only thing that’s changed is that you now know I have magic.”
“How? How can I do that now, knowing that you’re a sorcerer? I thought I knew you, Merlin.” There was an added element of sadness to his tone this time around, and that hurt even more than his anger had.
“You do!” Merlin cried, legs starting to wobble just slightly.
Arthur paused, staring intently at Merlin for several moments before finally speaking. “I don’t know how I can ever trust you again.” And with that, he turned and started walking away. Away from Merlin, away from their destiny, and away from the last remnants of hope Merlin still had left.
“Arthur, wait,” Merlin begged hoarsely as a wave of fresh tears started to spill over onto his still-damp cheeks, but the Prince barely even flinched.
Watching him stalk away, Merlin sunk heavily to the ground in a listless heap and truly sobbed for the first time in his entire life. He thought he’d experienced as much pain as was humanly possible for one person to experience, but Merlin knew now that it hadn’t been true until this very moment in time, and for the first time in his life, he wished he could just curl up into a ball and die.
* * * * *
Arthur stalked away from Merlin without a second glance, but there was something that prevented him from leaving the forest entirely, so instead he paced back and forth on the outskirts, silently seething. Even from this distance he could hear Merlin’s sobs, but he tried to push the sound from his consciousness. Arthur wanted to break something, to reach out and punch a tree or do anything else in order to make his own pain feel less prominent. However, the simple fact was that Merlin had lied to him, and that was not something he could so easily forget. The part that hurt the most, though, was not that Merlin had lied. A part of Arthur could understand his reasoning for that, considering they lived in a realm that despised and killed those who possessed magical abilities. The part that hurt Arthur was that Merlin hadn’t trusted him enough to share this part of him; hadn’t trusted him enough to know that Arthur wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Arthur had so many questions, many of which he suspected he likely would not want to know the actual answers to, but he first needed to figure out how to properly process all of this overwhelming information.
Uther had raised Arthur in a land and a time when sorcery of any sort was seen only as evil. Arthur himself had never quite fully subscribed to the thought, because he believed that surely not every sorcerer could be bent on destruction and on causing harm to others. It seemed too convenient. He’d even met some that had not done anything to hurt others until they were threatened themselves. Of course, his Father’s response to that line of thinking would be that they may not have done anything yet, but they would, if given enough time. Arthur had fought against the stereotype all his life, but if even Merlin of all people could deceive him like that, it made Arthur question whether his Father may have been right after all. Sorcerers couldn’t be trusted. Even Merlin had proven that much to him, much as he may have been at least partially justified in doing so.
The thing that Arthur couldn’t quite seem to process was that he knew Merlin. Merlin was an idiot, generally incompetent, and as clumsy as could be. But he had a good heart, and was fiercely loyal. It didn’t make sense that Merlin could be both a sorcerer and an evil person bent on destroying Camelot. The two were mutually exclusive, or at least they had to be. Otherwise Arthur’s world truly did not make any sense, and he didn’t know that he could ever trust another soul again, if he had truly been deceived by Merlin.
Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, picking up a stick from the ground and tossing it errantly into the clearing in front of him. It was at this point that he his mind seemed to re-tune itself to the sound of crying in the distance. Arthur figured at least ten minutes had passed without any distinctive indication that Merlin’s sobs were going to subside in the immediate future, and as furious as he was, the sound was enough to shatter even the coldest of hearts. It particularly hurt Arthur, knowing that he was the primary source of the sorrow currently wracking his friend’s body, even if Merlin had brought it on himself in the first place.
Clenching his fists briefly, Arthur made another snap decision, heading back in the direction of his manservant. When he finally reached the man, he saw that Merlin was sitting on the ground with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried into his knees, body shaking with sobs. Arthur had never seen Merlin look so small or pitiful in his life, and in spite of every lie that he’d told and everything that he’d kept from Arthur, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Merlin was remorseful for those actions. If he’d been bent on the destruction of Camelot, then he wouldn’t care that Arthur knew, and he wouldn’t be crying like this now.
Kneeling down on the ground beside Merlin, Arthur reached out and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Merlin started, jumping when his tear-stained eyes met Arthur’s, but he didn’t pull away. However, he also didn’t stop crying, and Arthur wanted nothing more than for that sound to go away. So without another thought, Arthur gently pulled Merlin into his arms, holding him tightly as though he were a small child who needed protection. After a few moments the other man shifted slightly, turning his face further into Arthur’s chest as Arthur rubbed soothing circles down his back.
Several minutes passed before Merlin finally stopped crying altogether, and when he eventually pulled free of Arthur’s grip, he averted his eyes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured weakly, voice scratchy and hoarse from crying.
Arthur sighed and leaned back on his heels. “I know you are,” he replied a couple of moments later.
They sat in silence then, breathing slowly, thoughtfully. Neither felt in any rush to move, and so they didn’t for many minutes.
Merlin was the first one to finally speak. “I know I lied to you, but you have to know that I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you Arthur. No matter what you decide about me, please believe that.”
The look of sheer desperation in his eyes was more than enough for Arthur to know that he was, in fact, telling the truth. Arthur was still angry at being lied to, and he truly didn’t know yet how to react to the fact that he was a sorcerer, but that didn’t change the fact that Merlin was still one of the most important people in Arthur’s life, and that Arthur cared very deeply for him.
“I believe you,” Arthur told him eventually and fought the urge to reach out and touch him.
Merlin smiled then, red-faced and covered in tears and dirt, but he looked happy. It was a look that Arthur hadn’t seen in a long time.
“We should probably head back and get you cleaned up,” Arthur finally suggested, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his trousers. He offered a hand to Merlin, who stared at it for a few seconds before accepting the assistance. They walked back towards Merlin’s home side by side in silence.
* * * * *
That evening, Merlin and Arthur ended up sleeping in the barn, not unlike how they had the first time they’d both been in Ealdor at the same time. Except the only difference was that Gwen and Morgana were no longer sleeping practically next to them.
“Arthur, you can take my bed,” Hunith had offered shortly after they’d finished eating dinner.
But Arthur shook his head adamantly, placing a dry dish down on the table in front of him. “No, Hunith, I can’t possibly do that.”
She’d simply smiled at him in that loving Motherly way that Arthur had always wished for but never really was able to experience himself. “Don’t be silly. You’re my guest,” she’d insisted with a flip of her wrist.
“Yes, but a completely unexpected one,” he’d tried again, glancing at Merlin for some back-up.
“A guest is a guest, unexpected or not,” came her clever retort, and Arthur proceeded to stare pointedly at Merlin who was still washing the last remaining dishes from dinner.
“Mum,” Merlin finally chimed in, “Arthur can be as stubborn as an ass. It’s not worth arguing with him over it. Why doesn’t he just sleep in the barn like last time? There’s even fresh hay.”
Arthur shot Merlin a particularly nasty scowl, which seemed to have absolutely no effect on the warlock whatsoever. “Yes, thank you Merlin.” To Hunith he said, “The barn will be fine, I assure you. Thank you for your hospitality, Hunith.”
She studied him for a moment before nodding her assent. “All right, then it’s settled.”
“Except I think that Merlin should join me as well. In case I need anything during the night,” Arthur added as an afterthought and tossed a satisfied smirk in his manservant’s direction.
Arthur now found himself burrowing under blankets that had been laid on top of a pile of hay. It certainly wasn’t the standard of accommodation he was accustomed to, but it wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Merlin lay a few feet away from Arthur, also wrapped up in blankets. Arthur was both physically exhausted from his journey, as well as mentally exhausted from the events of the day, but he inexplicably found himself more fascinated with watching Merlin a few feet away, back facing the Prince. He watched as Merlin shifted several times in an attempt to find a comfortable position. He stared at his right shoulder as it slowly rose and fell with each breath Merlin took. He took note of the pale skin at the back of Merlin’s neck and was suddenly utterly curious about what it would feel like to kiss and suck at that expanse of skin.
Pushing aside the thought, he rolled onto his back and attempted to get comfortable. After a few minutes, Arthur sat up and decided to try and rearrange the hay beneath his blankets.
“Do you need some help?” Merlin asked eventually, when it was obvious that Arthur was struggling with the task, but Arthur was never one to admit when he needed assistance, and he certainly wasn’t about to do so over some hay.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own, Merlin,” he retorted firmly, pulling out a handful of hay and tossing it haphazardly to the side. Merlin simply shrugged and pulled his blanket up higher.
A good five minutes later, Arthur finally gave up on the hay situation and decided that what he had was good enough for one night. Getting back under his blankets and laying down once again, he noted the fascination with which Merlin watched his every movement. He seemed to have something on his mind, but thus far had remained unusually silent.
“What is it?” Arthur asked several moments later, when it became clear that Merlin wasn’t going to say anything.
“It’s nothing…” Merlin told him softly.
But Arthur shook his head. “No, don’t give me that. Haven’t there been enough secrets already? I want to know what it is that’s going through your thick skull at the moment.”
A soft laugh came from Merlin, though it didn’t sound particularly joyful. “I just… Sometimes I thought this day would never come. Or when it did, that things would have turned out differently…”
A curious brow shot up Arthur’s forehead, though he doubted if Merlin could tell from where he lay. “Differently how?”
Merlin shrugged, which looked somewhat amusing since he was lying on his side. “Differently in that you would hate me for keeping this from you. Or send me into exile. Or have me beheaded for the practice of sorcery, either immediately or when we returned to Camelot. There were a lot of options, really.” He paused and seemed to bury further under his blankets, if that were even possible.
“Of course, I suppose I can’t know for sure that you won’t do any of those things,” he muttered quietly…softly…almost as if he’d only meant the words for his own ears.
Arthur huffed an audible sigh of frustration. “Make no mistake, Merlin. I’m still furious with you, and I’m sure that will only get worse when we actually have a full conversation about this. Look, I know I’m not always the easiest person to deal with. But you have to know…” he paused, swallowed, collected his thoughts again. “You have to know that I’d never allow anyone to hurt you. Not my Father, not anyone.”
“I just figured that… Well, I thought…”
“You thought what?” Arthur asked, hoping that he wouldn’t say what it seemed like he was going to say.
Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head gently. “I’m sorry,” he said instead of answering the question. “I just feel like I’m always on the verge of facing my impending death... I’ve never truly known what to expect when you found out about my magic.” The sadness in his voice hit a chord with Arthur and he felt as if the wind had literally been knocked out of him. Did Merlin really believe that he was going to turn him over to his Father when they returned to Camelot?
“Merlin,” Arthur said forcefully, and sat up. Dragging his blankets behind him (because it was quite cold, in spite of the warmth of the day), Arthur closed the distance between them and only stopped when he was literally sitting right beside his manservant. Merlin simply stared up at Arthur, wide-eyed and concerned, a mildly perplexed expression dancing across his features before he also sat up, facing the Prince.
“Merlin,” Arthur started again, and reached out to place a firm hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “No matter how mad I may be at you, I’d never allow anything to happen to you. You need to believe that in the same way that you want me to believe you’d never hurt me with your magic.”
Merlin stares at Arthur long and hard, blue eyes piercing his in spite of the limited light in the barn. Arthur thought he might be searching to see if Arthur really was being genuine, so he sat there quietly, simply staring back at the man in front of him. A few breaths passed before Merlin seemed to reach a satisfactory conclusion, nodding his head once but never breaking eye contact.
“I know. I believe you,” he said softly. Then, “Thank you.”
Arthur nodded and smiled, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder briefly. He knew he should probably move away from Merlin, but something about the air between them had changed in the past few minutes, and he felt anticipation begin to build in his belly. In an attempt to break the already prolonged physical contact, Arthur trailed his hand lightly down Merlin’s chest, but instead of pulling away, his hand stopped to rest against the other man’s heart. Arthur could feel the pounding of Merlin’s heartbeat beneath his hand, thrumming steadily, and he instinctively leaned in closer. Merlin watched him through wild, excited eyes and they simply stared at one another, breathing heavily as the tension crackled between them.
He could feel Merlin’s breath coming out in short puffs against his cheek, and Arthur finally decided to close the gap between them, tugging Merlin forward by his tunic. Merlin responded almost immediately, opening his mouth to Arthur and deepening the kiss as tongue ran over tongue and they explored each other’s mouths in a way that they’d been afraid to for so long. He tasted both salty and sweet, almost how Arthur had imagined Merlin would taste when he’d dreamt of this moment. Hands moved to tangle in each other’s hair as they revelled in the feel and taste of one another.
After a few minutes, Arthur dragged Merlin towards him, practically pulling the other man into his lap as he sought out more contact. There had been too much space between their bodies and Arthur wanted none of that. They broke apart briefly to pull some air into their lungs before continuing to explore each other’s mouths and bodies ravenously, all hands and lips and soft moans.
“Too much clothing,” Arthur eventually murmured against Merlin’s lips. He pulled away for only as long as it took to remove their tunics and toss them aside, then pulled Merlin back into his arms, relishing the feel of skin against skin.
Arthur kissed Merlin hungrily, teasing and sucking at his tongue and lips as his hands roamed up and down Merlin’s back and chest. He heard Merlin moan softly and Arthur instinctively bucked his hips up against the man in his arms. They both gasped as their cocks rubbed against each other through the fabric of their trousers, consumed by waves of pleasure and desire. Placing a steadying hand against Merlin’s back to hold him in place, Arthur reached between them and rubbed the bulge in Merlin’s trousers teasingly. The sharp intake of breath from Merlin momentarily halted their kissing, until he grabbed at Arthur’s hair and pulled him back against his mouth.
Arthur gently lowered Merlin down to the blanket and started trailing gentle kisses down his throat and neck, then moved down to his chest, pausing to carefully nip and suck at each nipple; taking care to give each one special attention. “Gods Arthur,” Merlin moaned, writhing in pleasure beneath his caresses as he grasped at Arthur’s hair, holding on tightly.
Arthur continued his ministrations south until his mouth found itself at the strings of Merlin’s trousers. Mischievously Arthur placed a soft kiss to the top of the bulge, holding Merlin’s hips down as he tried to buck up at the contact. With a little smirk, Arthur pushed himself up and started to work at Merlin’s drawstrings, feeling his own arousal spike even more, though he wasn’t even sure if he could get any harder than he already was.
He had Merlin’s trousers untied and was about to slip them down his hips when he felt two hands come to rest atop his. Shooting his gaze upwards, he glanced curiously into Merlin’s dark eyes. Eyes that were suddenly tainted with worry and fear and something else Arthur couldn’t quite identify.
“What is it?” he asked, and was suddenly filled with a sense of dread. What if he’d read the whole situation wrong and Merlin didn’t really want this as much as he did? What if he told him to stop and leave him alone? Arthur would of course respect Merlin’s wishes, but he felt his heart drop in his chest at the sudden spike of apprehension that filled him.
What Merlin said ended up being completely unexpected. “What about Gwen?” he asked, voice carefully masked in spite of his ragged breathing.
“Guinevere?!” Arthur blurted out, only belatedly realising he’d said the words out loud. “What about Gwen? And why are you asking about her now?”
“I just... I need to know. Before you and I... Well, before we do anything,” Merlin told him, gesturing wildly between them at the words ‘do anything.’
Arthur pushed past the fogginess in his brain to try and make sense of what Merlin was trying to say. “You need to know what, Merlin?”
Merlin glanced down, almost as if he were embarrassed, before muttering in a barely audible voice, “If you’re in love with her.”
Arthur simply stared, dumfounded, at his half-naked servant.
“Because if you are, then I don’t want us to do this,” Merlin proceeded to explain. “I mean, I do want us to do this. Really very badly, actually. But I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice, nor do I want to hurt a friend like that. I might still do it anyway, because I’d rather have you once than never at all, but... I just need to know.”
Merlin closed his mouth and then shut his eyes, almost as if the thought of seeing what was going on in Arthur’s mind would be too much for him to bear. Arthur took a steadying breath and tried to sort through where on earth Merlin was coming form. Sure, he cared for Gwen. And he had stated as much on more than one occasion. The problem was that it was all far more complicated than Merlin understood and exceedingly convoluted. What he felt for Guinevere ran deep, but it wasn’t something that could easily be explained with a few simple words. The one thing he was certain of, though, was that he was not in love with her, though he would admit that he felt both love and respect for her. Arthur’s feelings for Merlin, on the other hand, were very clear and he knew precisely where he stood on that subject. It was something he had attempted to quell over the past year, but in the end he’d realised that there was no point in pushing someone away who would always, inexplicably work his way back into Arthur’s heart. The fact that Merlin was concerned about Gwen at a time like this spoke volumes about his true character, and Arthur felt his respect for the man grow even more.
Then there was the fact that Merlin clearly reciprocated Arthur’s feelings, and it suddenly changed everything. This was dangerous territory to stray into in the best of times, never mind the other minor detail that Merlin was also a sorcerer. But Arthur didn’t want to sort out all the details at the moment. There would be time for that later. Right now he was here with Merlin and for all the sorrow and despair that his friend had felt over the past couple of months, Arthur wanted to show him that there was still room for happiness, pleasure and love.
Reaching down, Arthur stroked Merlin’s cheek gently until he opened his eyes and finally met the Prince’s gaze. “I don’t love Guinevere, all right? I know it may seem like that, but it’s not true. We can talk about this later, but just know that I’m not in love with her.”
Merlin shot him a dubious look as his brows knitted together thoughtfully.
“Do you think I’d honestly be here doing this with you if I felt that way about someone else?” He paused for a moment. “Look, maybe this isn’t what you need right now,” Arthur suggested reluctantly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Merlin’s temple. He didn’t want to have this conversation at this very moment, but if it was the only way to convince Merlin, then he supposed he’d have to just explain everything to him.
But Merlin shook his head. “You don’t know what I need,” Merlin retorted, eyes dark and heady as he arched up, capturing Arthur’s mouth with his own in a surprisingly filthy open-mouthed kiss. Arthur groaned and shifted so he was lying almost entirely on top of Merlin, pressing every inch of their bodies together and rocking his hips gently against Merlin’s.
“Do you even know what you need?” Arthur queried when they finally broke apart, breathless and panting into each other’s mouths.
“I need you Arthur. Always you, only you.”
And in spite of all the unknowns still hanging between them, at that very moment in time, it was enough.
---------------------------
FIN