Fanfiction: An Irrefutable Fact (Arthur/Merlin...ish)
Title: An Irrefutable Fact.
Rating: G.
Word Count: ~840.
Challenge/Prompt:10_quotes.
Summary: Arthur appreciates Merlin.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin; it belongs to the BBC and Shine, I think. This wasn't written for profit and nothing is gained by its publication here except personal satisfaction. :D
Author's Notes: Not as slashy as I would have liked. If you squint, you might be able to see it, but you'll hafta squint pretty hard.
AN IRREFUTABLE FACT
Merlin is a perfect combination of good servant and good friend.
Not that Arthur would ever admit such a thing out loud in respectable company, but nonetheless it’s an irrefutable fact.
The young prince has come to discover over the months that Merlin has been serving him that he can speak with the dark-haired young man about anything and he doesn’t have to worry about having his innermost secrets leaked to the rest of the court within a fortnight. Everything said between the two of them remains there and doesn’t stray.
Merlin is also a good confidante - which is how the two of them ended up at the top of the castle’s highest turret on the windiest September night Albion has ever seen.
"What makes you think she wants to marry you?"
"Oh, she doesn't. To be perfectly honest she doesn't like me."
Arthur is leaning against the mahogany door that leads back down the lower levels of the castle. Merlin sits across from him.
“If she doesn’t like you, then why are we even having this conversation?” Merlin asks irritably, eyes red from lack of sleep and the wind, which seems to insist on blowing directly into his face no matter where he stands.
“Whether she likes me or not is not the issue here, Merlin,” Arthur snaps, desperately trying not to shiver. Coming up here had been a fairly stupid idea, but he would never admit to it being anything less than brilliant - even if that meant freezing to death in the span of a few minutes.
“Then what is the issue exactly, sire?” Any other time of day and Arthur would send him to the stocks immediately for that kind of sarcasm, but the prince is feeling almost too sleepy to continue standing and decides that a good scolding would take the life right out of him. He lets the attitude slide.
“The issue, Merlin, is that Morgana could want to rip all my hair out and scorch my tongue with burning hot pincers (now that I think of it, she probably does…) and my father would still arrange a marriage if it meant keeping Camelot from disaster,” Arthur articulates slowly, as though to a child.
Merlin doesn’t look as though he appreciates this condescension but he (wisely) says nothing.
There is a short silence, permeated only by the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of the wind in their ears.
“I wish I knew what to tell you,” Merlin admits finally, looping his arms around his legs and tugging his knees to his chest. Another silence descends, this time shorter than the last. Merlin then sighs, rocking back and forth in place. “Do you want me to be honest with you?”
Arthur’s head jerks up; he is surprised. No one has ever asked him such a question. He feels odd about it, as though this could be either a good thing or a terrible thing. After deciding that this is probably a bad thing, he then must face Merlin’s question: does he want Merlin to be honest with him?
He must think about this.
The only people that are ever devastatingly honest with him are his father and Morgana. His father is - less because Arthur is his son and more because Uther is the king and isn’t used to sugarcoating anything. Morgana is - mostly because Morgana doesn’t like to sugarcoat him.
Gaius is usually honest with him, but only when he doesn’t fear the consequences.
His knights are ridiculously subservient - they don’t care about asking Arthur if he’d like to hear what they really had to say; they cared about making sure Arthur liked them enough that they ended up with choice spots at dinner feasts.
It takes a moment for Arthur to realize that these few people are the only people he regularly associates with. It shocks him more than a little. Camelot, all things considered, is absolutely tiny - there are maybe four hundred people living within the city gates, and he only talks to about thirty of those four hundred.
What does that say about him?
About his dedication to his people?
Before he can get too swept away in these worrisome thoughts, eleven familiar words present themselves to him involuntarily: Merlin is the perfect combination of good servant and good friend.
Arthur looks up to where his manservant - friend - waits for him to reply.
No matter the situation, Merlin has been there for him from the very beginning…from before the beginning, really, since Merlin’s protectiveness is what got him his position in the first place. There is something fiercely comforting in the thought that Merlin can be such a good friend to Arthur while still pushing him to think about important things (even if Arthur reaches these subjects accidentally) like honesty and his dedication to Camelot.
Arthur looks up into Merlin’s blue eyes and thinks: Yes; here is a man who can do me no real wrong.
It takes no more consideration after that.
“Yes, I want you to be honest with me.”
[END]