to the world that never let you be: 4/10
Summary: When Arthur notices the scars on Merlin, he sets off to find out why a servant of all people has such marks and discovers that Merlin might not be all that he seems. From kinkme_merlin prompt here
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
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to the world that never let you be
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Part Four
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Arthur had never heard Merlin be truly bitter or angry. When he had heard the tone creep into his manservant's voice before, it hadn't been directed his way and so Arthur could laugh, smile and joke about how Merlin was finally learning to grow into a proper man.
Yet now that it was, and the full force of it to boot, Arthur wondered how he could have ever missed this Merlin; the man of power behind all the smiles and clumsiness. It was clear that they were one in the same, neither an act that Merlin put on to attract the innocent people - to trick them - and the thought shook Arthur slightly.
Had Merlin ever been tempted? Tempted to turn his back on Camelot, knowing that he could easily destroy the kingdom as the dragon had done? It wasn't as if Arthur had made his life full of delight and wonder, and even if Merlin was on some strange mission to guard him, there had to have been many times when Merlin at least had thought about turning his back on Camelot and claiming his birthright as a sorcerer, free from Uther.
(And hadn't Merlin stopped Arthur from killing his father once? Why hadn't he just let Arthur run the King through and be done with it? No more Uther; Arthur had been convinced Morgause was on his side, a good magic user; and Merlin would have been a free man.)
But going back to Merlin's question, Arthur didn't know. He couldn't say what he'd do because the situation, for anyone else, would never have happened. Merlin created impossible situations, where there was a choice between the hard way or the impossible, but not even magic could see you through the impossible. Merlin was still just a man, even he had limits to what he could do it seemed.
"I tried to get him to agree he wouldn't attack Camelot but..." Merlin's shoulder slumped, but he remained standing. "He's the last of his kind. He saw everyone else die. Can you imagine what that must feel like? To know you're alone in the world?"
Arthur swallowed heavily as Merlin turned his back on the fire. They hadn't tended to it and the flames were barely touching the rabbit now, slinking under the logs they had loaded up and slowly spitting out embers instead.
"I know a little of what he felt. Gaius doesn't know anyone like me and even back at Ealdor I could sense something was different with my magic, but there was that little shred of hope, you know? A little part of me thinking that someone else was just like me, that I wouldn't have to be alone."
Quite frankly, Arthur didn't know, but that didn't matter. He still nodded, moving forwards slightly, as if that small movement would tell Merlin that everything was okay, that he wasn't alone - not now, not ever, no matter what he'd done.
That struck a chord in Arthur; the fact that, yes, he was angry, yes he would think twice for a while before trusting Merlin fully and yes, they still needed to work an awful lot through, but there was an after that. After they'd hashed this out, after Arthur could trust Merlin again, after Merlin had explained everything to Arthur... after it all, Merlin would still be there for Arthur and, though were it anyone else he'd never think it, Arthur would be there for Merlin, making up for all the times Merlin had stood silently to the side, risking his very life just to protect Arthur for nothing.
"I didn't know he would do that though," Merlin continued; profile turned to Arthur. "I didn't want him to hurt anyone, let alone kill them."
Merlin's hands were clenched into fists, a sign that he truly regretted the consequences of what he'd done.
"So I didn't really kill the dragon, did I?" Merlin's head snapped around sharply to look at Arthur, eyes wide. "I mean you used your magic or something, right?"
What else could there be? If Arthur hadn't killed the dragon and Merlin had been the only one able to... though why he'd had to wait that long to kill it Arthur wasn't sure.
Merlin sighed, "It's not that easy. I tried to use my magic on him in Camelot, but it didn't work. Gaius explained it to me - dragon's aren't monsters. They can't be killed by magical means, they're creatures of 'wonder and enchantment', able to use magic themselves and carry down great prophecies. I doubt even all the magic in the world would have been able to kill a dragon."
Arthur nodded slowly, "Like the unicorn? You wouldn't have been able to kill that either?"
Merlin shrugged his shoulders, "I suppose, though why would I want to?" He frowned, "I don't think I've ever heard of a unicorn attacking anything, let alone people."
Arthur smiled slightly, falling easily back into old, good habits. He was slowly realising that he hadn't lost Merlin at all, not in any sense. In fact, it was like he was finally getting to know him, finally being allowed past the outer shell and trusted most of all.
"The Dragonlords, though, they had magic didn't they?" It was so easy to disregard everything he'd been lectured upon when the subject was so interesting. Merlin had proved he wasn't about to mouth off and kill Arthur where he stood, so what was the harm in getting some answers to the questions of their past?
Leaving Merlin behind wasn't an option. It never had been, not even when Merlin had first disclosed his secret, and it never would be. Whatever Arthur had to do, he was beginning to realise, he would do it to keep Merlin by his side. The fierce loyalty his manservant had shown went above and beyond duty, to a degree that Arthur wouldn't hesitate to call him a friend now. His closest friend if truth be told, and he wanted to learn about Merlin and Merlin's world.
Even if that included magic.
"I don't know much about the Dragonlords," Merlin said, shuffling his feet so that he moved forwards a few paces, kicking up some dirt. It left a smear on the toe of his boot and Merlin tried using his other foot to brush it off, only succeeding in making the smudge larger.
"The power of a Dragonlord isn't magic, really... I don't know what it is and I suppose most Dragonlords did have strong magic, but I can't be sure." Arthur nodded, wondering if Merlin had asked Gaius about this or if Balinor had told him when Arthur had been unconscious.
An ember spat out with a crack and Arthur's attention turned to the fire. He wasn't frozen in place any more, no longer held by a conflict of whether Merlin was good or bad (who decided who was good or bad anyway? Weren't they all a little of each?), and so he stoked the embers, drawing them out to finish off the rabbit. Merlin turned to watch the newly awakened flames, his eyes golden-tinted as the flames reflected in them.
"With magic, you can learn it even if you have a small amount of potential. Most of them never even know they have a talent unless they go through something stressful or life threatening, or so Gaius told me. And even then, some people will be able to master spells and other people won't at all and any potential seen in them will just... fade as they forget, I suppose." Merlin's voice sounded wistful, as if he couldn't understand how magic could fade.
Ah, but Merlin was born with his magic wasn't he? Which made him special, so special that he couldn't be anything but a warlock just as Arthur couldn't be anything less than a prince.
"But for a Dragonlord, it's a power that's passed through a bloodline, from father to son." Arthur noticed the crack in Merlin's voice as he spoke. He fixed his gaze on his friend, knowing that eye contact wouldn't be an option at this stage in the story - Arthur could feel there was something important here, behind this part of it all - but he had to know what was showing on Merlin's face.
His features were softened, the barest of smiles on his lips as he looked to their little fire.
"No one ever told me," Merlin said, his eyes catching Arthur's out of the corner, not moving his head yet still managing to see everything of him. "Gaius was the one who did tell me, just before we left Camelot. I had no idea, still wouldn't have an idea if they had their way."
There was a lingering taste of resentment there, but it was long faded, long apologised for. Still, it was clear that whatever Gaius had told Merlin, it had made a great impact.
"When Uther started the Great Purge," Merlin said, (and did all of the stories begin with Uther? It was a reoccurring pattern; yet again, another reason why Arthur wanted to know how many of his father's mistakes had been cleaned up). "He ordered all the dragons to be killed and, as he believed the art of a Dragonlord to be too close to sorcery, he ordered their execution."
Arthur hadn't grown up to tales of Dragonlords, never even heard of them until Gaius had said they needed one. He'd grown up to stories of monsters who took hostages in towers and razed villages, of the dragons (monsters of nightmares), but never the very people who could talk to them, tame them. Even without hearing of their deeds, the way they brought the dragons down from the skies with but a thought, saddened him of their loss, a loss he'd never even have considered had Merlin not told him of it.
He had Merlin to thank for so many things it seemed.
"When it was just the Great Dragon and the last Dragonlord left, Uther convinced him that he wanted peace with the dragon, asking if Balinor could talk the dragon to come to Camelot." Arthur looked away, down to the browning grass at his feet as he knew what Merlin would say next. "Uther betrayed him, chained the dragon and imprisoned him, before ordering Balinor's execution."
Arthur had guessed as much when his father had been adamant that they couldn't trust a Dragonlord. But, you see, that was where Arthur and Uther split paths, for Uther would rather have seen Camelot crumble and his people die than ask a Dragonlord (let alone a magic user! The thought was laughable) for help, let alone beg for his help.
Even though Arthur had begged Balinor, pleaded for him to come in the fashion he had always been trained in - courtly, polite, a little demanding, but never rude or imposing - he had failed. It had been Merlin in the end, really, but at least he'd tried.
Arthur was willing to change while Uther would rather watch his world fall.
"Gaius helped get him out of Camelot," Merlin said and Arthur couldn't help the grin that spread onto his face at the thought.
Before Merlin had arrived in Camelot, Arthur was sure none of this would ever have come to light. Gaius was supposed to be respectable and the number one man in Uther's campaign of magic. And yet now, it seemed that he was more comfortable and more open with the man he used to be - the man he should still be had the Purge not begun (and yes, it still weighed heavily in Arthur's belly, but there was nothing he could do to change the past and he had to accept it, however unsavoury the taste).
"He had help, a woman took him in, gave him a home, a life." Arthur could hear the regret lacing Merlin's words, but couldn't place why it would be there.
"Uther followed him though and he left the village, left the woman he loved and left his life to... well we saw what he'd been living like. Not bad, really, but a far cry from a good life. And he was so bitter, so, so bitter," Merlin said, shaking his head as he moved away from the fire, facing Arthur head on, towering above.
There was a tug, low in Arthur's abdomen, as Merlin spoke. Balinor wasn't just a man to Merlin, that much was clear. Merlin had cried for him, after all, but they'd also spent time alone together, time that Arthur hadn't had and who knows what kind of things they could have talked about.
That was one bond Arthur would never be able to have with Merlin - one of magic. He wouldn't be able to talk about the feel of it, or how he was able to control something... not like Balinor would have been able to.
"The village he went to, the one Uther followed him to," Merlin said, the words leaving his throat quietly, as if they were stuck in his throat. "It was- was Ealdor."
It wasn't an admission or anything near the sort. Arthur could have drawn any conclusion from that should he have wanted to, that Balinor was just a man next door to Merlin, that he was just another face in the group of proud villagers... but he wanted the truth. The numbers were easy to see and Merlin's reaction from the whole trip made sense as it came back in trickles, his silence on their horses, his odd behaviour at the inn, the way he'd grinned as if receiving the best present in the world when he'd taken the wooden dragon statue Balinor had carved for him.
"He was your father?" Arthur said, the words strikingly loud despite the world moving on around them. The fire was still burning, the trees were singing with the wind and there were at least fifteen types of birds calling out, but they all muted as Merlin turned a tortured gaze to Arthur and nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he bit back tears.
Oh, Arthur thought, before, how many other tears had Merlin had to bite back and stuff away just to keep his secrets?
So he stood not to hold Merlin or pull him close, because Merlin was stronger than what Arthur could offer. Instead, he placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder and bowed his head slightly, a mark of respect for a man that he'd never been able to know, and for his son who had never had a chance to mourn.
Arthur had never been one to offer comfort. His idea to cheer someone up was to smack them on the arm, nudge them with a smile and a word akin to 'buck up'. He already knew from experience that Merlin didn't operate on the same wavelength as his knights, to whom such measures would have been more than adequate comfort.
There had been one time, back when Morgana was in Camelot and they'd thought her sure to die that Gwen had come to him one evening. Tears were already streaking down her chin and hands shaking as she'd explained that he was the only one she could think to go to, that her and Merlin weren't as close anymore - not that she'd been able to find him - and the thought of seeing Gaius' sorrowful expression, knowing there was no more he could do...
So she'd come to him, the one man who was probably worse at giving out comfort than some flesh eating monster hell bent on destroying Camelot. It hadn't been easy when she'd almost reached out, as Gwen no doubt would have done were he not the prince, stopping herself at the last moment, eyes shining with new tears.
It had been Arthur who'd wrapped his arms around her in a hug, hoping she could at least find some form of comfort from him. Gwen had twisted in his hold, sobbing and clutching at his chest, and all Arthur had been able to do was bury his head in her hair, whisper false promises of Morgana's health in her ear and keep his arms holding her.
Merlin was no Gwen. He hadn't sought comfort from Arthur, hadn't needed Arthur to be the strong one to comfort him. Instead, Merlin placed a hand of his own over Arthur's, offering the smallest smile before speaking.
"He passed his gift onto me," Merlin said, looking just to the left of Arthur's head, away to the distance.
And even though he must be hurting, to drag up so much of the past, here was Merlin, unwavering and still carrying on. Arthur imagined that even if the weight of the world was suddenly hoisted onto Merlin's back that he'd still be able to walk, hitching the world a little higher and simply look onwards with a smile, saying something stupid about it being a job someone had to bear and how the weight wasn't bad at all, if you shifted it just so.
"After the dragon knocked you out, I heard my father's voice telling me what I had to do." A weak smile passed on Merlin's lips and Arthur felt his hand slip a little, his strength wavering only slightly. The decision to link his fingers with Merlin's was an easy one, and he offered his strength where Merlin's was patched, just as Merlin had done for him so many times.
"I commanded him, forced him to obey and he listened." Merlin's eyes closed at the memory, his fingers twitching under the heat of Arthur's, squeezing just a little. "I granted him clemency, told him that attacking Camelot again would cause his death."
The words took a lot for Merlin to say, Arthur could see that. But who was Merlin to offer the dragon its freedom? He wasn't above the law, in Uther's eyes, and they'd been ordered to kill the dragon, so how had the decision formed, to grant such a creature the right of freedom.
That was easily explained. Merlin, such as he was, didn't fall under any category of Uther's law. He wasn't a subject, having been born and raised in Cenred's former land, and he never could be, not with Uther's ban on magic.
Arthur and the Knights had been the ones ordered to slay the dragon while Merlin was there for Arthur. Not on some noble quest, not on a mission to protect Camelot though that was tagged onto his actions, it wasn't the driving force. While some of the reason her had gone with them might have been guilt for releasing the dragon in the first place, Arthur knew that Merlin had ridden with them to face the dragon for his father and his Prince.
And if anyone had the right to decide what to do with a dragon, it should be a Dragonlord; someone Arthur knew to be exceptionally selfless with more courage than a hardened war horse. Merlin, too, was an ordinary person, not in the sense that he was boring or plain, but that he had been raised a peasant, with extraordinary gifts that he kept hidden. Merlin wasn't swayed by politics, by money or by anything else other than his own beliefs and the love for people around him.
"How did you know he would listen?" Arthur asked softly, eyes searching to meet Merlin's.
"The way the power of a Dragonlord works is that a dragon is unable to resist the command. If I told him to fetch me an apple, he would be bound to." Merlin opened his eyes slightly, lashes barely parting, but Arthur could see the glint of blue in the corner and knew Merlin was looking to him.
Arthur raised his eyebrows. He'd known the sway of power a Dragonlord had, but he hadn't known the full extent; that they could command the dragons to their whims. Uther's fear of them made sense, though that still didn't make it right.
Merlin loosened their fingers, stepping away from Arthur and towards the log he'd sat on before. Arthur expected him to sit back down, closed off, but instead he picked up one end, dragged the log towards Arthur's and looked back around their camp.
"It's easier," was all he offered, before moving to the rabbits. Arthur watched him remove them from the spit, but instead of offering the food out, Merlin moved to their packs, placed the food on a spare cloth he removed from his own bag and wrapped the meat up for later.
Why didn't Merlin use magic? With all these menial tasks and Arthur knowing, why didn't Merlin just mutter his spells and be done with them all? He longed to pose the question, but now was not the time. Merlin still had a lot to tell and it seemed that the answer to this scar was harder than the answer to the one he'd received from (essentially) saving Arthur.
He moved over to their seats, finding a suitable perch on the log where Merlin would be in reach, a firm presence for whatever story he was going to tell. Merlin joined him, his hands resting on his knees as he leant forwards, fiddling with a few strands of grass again.
"Morgause saved Morgana for a reason, not just because Morgana has magic." Merlin looked uncomfortable, but Arthur beat him to it.
"I know they're sisters." Arthur saw Merlin's eyes widen and his lips quirk downwards a little.
"Oh, I didn't realise you knew," Merlin replied. "Though I suppose it's not exactly a secret." He shrugged. "That's the problem when you begin keeping secrets; you start to grab onto them even when they're common knowledge and assume no one will ever find them out."
That was true, Arthur could agree. While his secrets were more linked to state affairs, whenever encountering someone else who was privy to the information, even he was wary. Secrets were to be guarded, held into your chest where they seeped and burnt, but still you could never let them go.
Then when that moment came where you could finally release it, it was hard. No secret was easy to tell, nothing that you'd had to hide could ever be easy to reveal, and if Arthur could give something -anything - back to Merlin, ease the revelations if only slightly, then he would.
"When Morgana came back to Camelot," Merlin began, letting the grass in his hands fall to the ground. "She said that she forgave me for what I'd done, that she understood why I'd had to do it."
Merlin gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I wanted to believe her, she was my friend and I'd poisoned her..." He paused, eyes darting across the ground as he frowned lightly. "I just wanted her to know how sorry I was, how I didn't want to hurt her and yet, well, I couldn't have let you die and Camelot fall."
Arthur nodded, wanting to say that it had been the right choice, that Merlin shouldn't have had to make it (because wasn't that a type of choice a king made?), but he couldn't. It was the right choice for Arthur because it had been Arthur's life and home on the line... if a dragon hadn't told Merlin about his destiny or if Merlin hadn't formed a bond with Arthur, would he have made that choice differently?
He cut that thought off. Merlin and he hadn't liked each other when they'd first met. They'd been two different people to who they were today - not quite grown up and still putting feelers out in the world. No matter what you were told, you couldn't change those opinions of a person unless you learnt them yourself and there was no way that Merlin would let someone simply tell him how to think, let someone form opinions for him.
They knew each other too well know, far too well, though it had taken Arthur a long time to realise this and fully accept it. Even now, with the magic and Merlin's secrets, it didn't impact on how they knew each other, how they could work together and spend hours in comfortable silence, picking unspoken words from a conversation of gestures and looks.
"Something wasn't right and I followed her out of Camelot one night. She met with Morgause in the woods, and while I couldn't hear the specifics of their plan, I knew they were up to something." Merlin ran a hand over his eyes with a sigh. "I'd wanted her to use her magic for good. It's why I helped her escape to the Druids once. I couldn't help her, but I could find people who would be able to."
Arthur frowned; "When did she go to the Druids?"
Merlin looked at him in slight surprise, as if the thought that Arthur didn't know seemed strange now. And wasn't that something to laugh about - the fact that Merlin was surprised Arthur didn't know the specifics of his life? That was good, much better, how it should be between friends and... well, whatever they were.
There was a frown on Merlin's brow and Arthur read the look well; Merlin was trying to remember. "Everyone in Camelot thought she'd been kidnapped by the Druids," he said, slowly and thoughtfully.
Arthur nodded his head, remembering. It was part of the reason they'd ridden to all known Druid settlements once Morgana had been missing and the damage left by the dragon had been sorted.
"You know how you say I'm not exactly the stealthiest of people?" Merlin asked suddenly, looking at Arthur with a small smirk. Arthur nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Morgana knew I'd been following her and I was captured by Cenred's men when I tried to run."
"Cenred's men?" Arthur asked. He'd known Morgause had been in league with Cenred during Morgana's reign (well, rather that she'd taken what she needed before killing him), but he hadn't realised that their allegiance went further back than the Castle of Fyrien.
"Morgause was working with Cenred during the battle following Morgana's return," Merlin said, filling the slight blanks that were left.
No longer did Arthur feel that he had to wait and have the story told. This wasn't just a tale any more, but a fact. These things had happened, Arthur had witnessed them, and now that he knew more of Merlin, had heard what he was capable of, he was free to question him. Their balance had wavered through the conversation, but it was becoming more even with every word shared.
"She left me in the wood, chained up." Merlin shifted his leg, bumping Arthur with the boot he'd smeared mud on earlier. "Magic wouldn't work against the chains so I suppose she used some sort of spell, though I should ask Gaius if he knows anything that would resist magic."
Arthur knew of a few instruments in the vaults - manacles, chains, ropes, and various chaining materials that had been used to trap magic users during the Purge and hold them against their will. They were gathering dust now, but Arthur was sure should Uther believe they were needed, he wouldn't hesitate a second. Just because Merlin didn't know of such objects didn't make them any less real, any less fear inspiring (to Arthur at least)
"I ended up surrounded by serkets, unable to do anything to get rid of them. What magic I could use would only work on one at a time and it was inevitable that one would get close enough to sting me." Merlin twisted around on his log, this time pulling his shirt up to reveal the mark on his back.
Arthur almost reached a hand out to touch it, but paused, snatching his hand back before it really moved.
"It's okay," Merlin said softly, "You can touch it."
Arthur's hands were trembling slightly as he reached to touch the scar on Merlin's back. There was something different in this moment, here with Merlin. Something was in the air, almost calling to him, pressing against him and telling him that this was the right thing to do. The first touch was a little too hard, jabbing into the skin by the mark with the tip of his finger, but Merlin didn't flinch away.
"Sorry," Arthur muttered, before placing his fingers over the slight indentation by Merlin's spine, smoothing his hand over the skin.
It was warm, perhaps a little warmer than the rest of Merlin's back, but then again Arthur was sure his own hands had heated considerably. He knew what scars felt like, old scars, and it was clear that this had been marking Merlin's skin for a while, but there was something different - something extra about it. He smoothed the edge with his fingertips, feeling goose bumps rise to his touch, before he covered the mark with his hand.
It was intimate, an acknowledgement of so many things. The loyalty Merlin had shown, the depths to which he would go for one man (for a destiny only proved to him through words of a dragon), a friendship, and maybe even Arthur's own faith in Merlin.
How strange it was to think that, when Arthur had never shown Merlin his faith in him before now. But he had, in a sense, because whenever he'd needed him, Merlin had been there, by his side even though he was just a servant. Merlin had been through more almost all knights, just because he was there for Arthur.
Who had been the one to pull Arthur up and tell him that it hadn't been the time to mope, that he had to do something for his people when Morgana had taken Camelot? Who had just admitted that he'd killed for Arthur and would do it again without any remorse? Whether he'd known it or not, Arthur had needed Merlin through those times and while there was so much to make up for, Merlin could stand by his side, free for all to see now, because Arthur knew and understood.
"I called the dragon," Merlin said and Arthur pressed the heel of his palm a little more against his skin, eyes closed as he could feel Merlin's back vibrate as he talked. "He healed me, but I had to get back to Camelot."
Merlin's shirt was bunched up around his neck, his arms hanging awkwardly, Arthur noted as he opened his eyes. It was a small sacrifice, but one nonetheless just so Arthur could feel his scars.
They weren't even important, not really. Just a mark on the flesh, nothing to be so damn curious about. If he'd known his curiosity would have led him here, would Arthur still have pressed and asked?
Yes. A thousand times yes. It was hard, knowing all of this, having everything finally revealed like a blindfold being pulled from his eyes, but it was right somehow.
"One day I'll take you on a dragon ride." Merlin half-turned; Arthur's hand skimming across his skin to rest against his ribs. He was smiling, privy to a joke Arthur was about to understand. "It was how I got back to Camelot and... well that comes later. But one day I'll take you."
The notion that Merlin had ridden a dragon - the Great Dragon to boot - tugged at Arthur's lips. Of course Merlin (the man who'd cried over a unicorn) would ride a dragon, something traditionally one was supposed to run from. Who needed tradition anyway? It was overrated, stuffy, and not needed for Arthur's future court.
He could feel Merlin's breathing steady under his hand, in, out, constant. Who said sorcerers weren't humans? Arthur had proof right here under his palm, with a heartbeat and breath with blood running through Merlin's veins and a story to tell, just like every other man.
"I returned to Camelot," Merlin continued, shifting slightly again so that his shirt was less bunched up around his neck, falling down over his back. Arthur's hand lay still as the fabric fell onto his arm and he looked at Merlin, moving his hand away.
"Morgana placed the Yew staff in the tombs of Camelot to raise the dead." Merlin's own hand followed his, catching his fingers just as they slid over a rib bone, pressing their palms together for a moment. "She took credit for it after, but I destroyed the staff and you were able to fight where it mattered."
Merlin shifted, side stepping and shuffling at the same time until he sat next to Arthur, sharing one log bench now. Their legs pressed against each other as Merlin settled their hands between them, never quite stilling the movement of his fingers as they danced shapes over his skin, on the back of his hand, up his fingers. Arthur tried to read the shapes, figure out if they were letters or just nonsensical babble.
Except nothing was nonsense when it came to Merlin.
"Morgana was the reason for your father's illness at that time too," Merlin said quietly.
They'd got off lucky then. Arthur said as much, thinking back to the history of illness in the male Pendragon line. Maybe it hadn't driven Uther to the edge then, but what about this time? Morgana had gone so far this time, who was to say that Uther would ever recover?
"This time it's not just a root you can burn," Arthur said, once Merlin had explained. "He's not going to get better."
The shapes on his hand stilled.
"You can't know that," Merlin said. "Gaius says he's getting better, it just takes time. I can't say that he'll ever be as good as he was, but times change. We can't all get things back, but we can take what is in front of us and make the best of it."
Arthur imagined that Merlin was tracing their names, over and over. Tracing the names of all the people they knew, the people who rooted them to the ground. There was so much responsibility that lay on his back, so much of that that too lay on Merlin's. There was always the option that they could just throw it all away now, run away and... and what?
"Sometimes," Arthur said softly, admitting more than he ever had before, "I wish that I could just leave. Pack up somewhere, pick any place where they've never even heard of a Camelot and just live there. Grow my own food and grow old without any burdens."
Merlin's fingers tightened around his hand as he stifled a snort of laughter. Arthur looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
"No you don't," Merlin answered, smile on his lips. "Sure it might pop up in that head of yours, but you never actually think about it. I saw you in Ealdor, there's no way you'd ever be happy with a life like that."
A huff of laughter escaped Arthur's chest. Merlin was right. He hadn't bought it for a moment, in true Merlin-fashion.
"Fine, you've got me." Merlin tapped the back of his hand, urging him on. "I don't want to leave Camelot, especially not to go and grow my own food." Merlin sniggered. "But... sometimes it's nice to wonder what it would be like."
There was probably no one else who would understand that. Uther was never a prince of Camelot, but an invading king; he'd never grown up with a kingdom resting on his shoulders. He'd never felt the dawn of his reign, knowing that you couldn't be anything less than brilliant or else he would let his people down.
Merlin did though. He understood the burdens perfectly, as if his life was fitted perfectly to Arthur's own.
"Is there enough room in that head of yours for all this wondering?" Merlin traced swirls and lines onto Arthur's wrist, inking invisible lines deep into Arthur's skin.
"Morgana tried to kill you, you know?" he said casually. "But I have a bit more of my story to tell before that," he added as Arthur stiffened, his fingers drumming out strange little beats against the bones in their hands.
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but I couldn't turn my back on a world
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| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten |
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
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to the world that never let you be
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Part Four
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Arthur had never heard Merlin be truly bitter or angry. When he had heard the tone creep into his manservant's voice before, it hadn't been directed his way and so Arthur could laugh, smile and joke about how Merlin was finally learning to grow into a proper man.
Yet now that it was, and the full force of it to boot, Arthur wondered how he could have ever missed this Merlin; the man of power behind all the smiles and clumsiness. It was clear that they were one in the same, neither an act that Merlin put on to attract the innocent people - to trick them - and the thought shook Arthur slightly.
Had Merlin ever been tempted? Tempted to turn his back on Camelot, knowing that he could easily destroy the kingdom as the dragon had done? It wasn't as if Arthur had made his life full of delight and wonder, and even if Merlin was on some strange mission to guard him, there had to have been many times when Merlin at least had thought about turning his back on Camelot and claiming his birthright as a sorcerer, free from Uther.
(And hadn't Merlin stopped Arthur from killing his father once? Why hadn't he just let Arthur run the King through and be done with it? No more Uther; Arthur had been convinced Morgause was on his side, a good magic user; and Merlin would have been a free man.)
But going back to Merlin's question, Arthur didn't know. He couldn't say what he'd do because the situation, for anyone else, would never have happened. Merlin created impossible situations, where there was a choice between the hard way or the impossible, but not even magic could see you through the impossible. Merlin was still just a man, even he had limits to what he could do it seemed.
"I tried to get him to agree he wouldn't attack Camelot but..." Merlin's shoulder slumped, but he remained standing. "He's the last of his kind. He saw everyone else die. Can you imagine what that must feel like? To know you're alone in the world?"
Arthur swallowed heavily as Merlin turned his back on the fire. They hadn't tended to it and the flames were barely touching the rabbit now, slinking under the logs they had loaded up and slowly spitting out embers instead.
"I know a little of what he felt. Gaius doesn't know anyone like me and even back at Ealdor I could sense something was different with my magic, but there was that little shred of hope, you know? A little part of me thinking that someone else was just like me, that I wouldn't have to be alone."
Quite frankly, Arthur didn't know, but that didn't matter. He still nodded, moving forwards slightly, as if that small movement would tell Merlin that everything was okay, that he wasn't alone - not now, not ever, no matter what he'd done.
That struck a chord in Arthur; the fact that, yes, he was angry, yes he would think twice for a while before trusting Merlin fully and yes, they still needed to work an awful lot through, but there was an after that. After they'd hashed this out, after Arthur could trust Merlin again, after Merlin had explained everything to Arthur... after it all, Merlin would still be there for Arthur and, though were it anyone else he'd never think it, Arthur would be there for Merlin, making up for all the times Merlin had stood silently to the side, risking his very life just to protect Arthur for nothing.
"I didn't know he would do that though," Merlin continued; profile turned to Arthur. "I didn't want him to hurt anyone, let alone kill them."
Merlin's hands were clenched into fists, a sign that he truly regretted the consequences of what he'd done.
"So I didn't really kill the dragon, did I?" Merlin's head snapped around sharply to look at Arthur, eyes wide. "I mean you used your magic or something, right?"
What else could there be? If Arthur hadn't killed the dragon and Merlin had been the only one able to... though why he'd had to wait that long to kill it Arthur wasn't sure.
Merlin sighed, "It's not that easy. I tried to use my magic on him in Camelot, but it didn't work. Gaius explained it to me - dragon's aren't monsters. They can't be killed by magical means, they're creatures of 'wonder and enchantment', able to use magic themselves and carry down great prophecies. I doubt even all the magic in the world would have been able to kill a dragon."
Arthur nodded slowly, "Like the unicorn? You wouldn't have been able to kill that either?"
Merlin shrugged his shoulders, "I suppose, though why would I want to?" He frowned, "I don't think I've ever heard of a unicorn attacking anything, let alone people."
Arthur smiled slightly, falling easily back into old, good habits. He was slowly realising that he hadn't lost Merlin at all, not in any sense. In fact, it was like he was finally getting to know him, finally being allowed past the outer shell and trusted most of all.
"The Dragonlords, though, they had magic didn't they?" It was so easy to disregard everything he'd been lectured upon when the subject was so interesting. Merlin had proved he wasn't about to mouth off and kill Arthur where he stood, so what was the harm in getting some answers to the questions of their past?
Leaving Merlin behind wasn't an option. It never had been, not even when Merlin had first disclosed his secret, and it never would be. Whatever Arthur had to do, he was beginning to realise, he would do it to keep Merlin by his side. The fierce loyalty his manservant had shown went above and beyond duty, to a degree that Arthur wouldn't hesitate to call him a friend now. His closest friend if truth be told, and he wanted to learn about Merlin and Merlin's world.
Even if that included magic.
"I don't know much about the Dragonlords," Merlin said, shuffling his feet so that he moved forwards a few paces, kicking up some dirt. It left a smear on the toe of his boot and Merlin tried using his other foot to brush it off, only succeeding in making the smudge larger.
"The power of a Dragonlord isn't magic, really... I don't know what it is and I suppose most Dragonlords did have strong magic, but I can't be sure." Arthur nodded, wondering if Merlin had asked Gaius about this or if Balinor had told him when Arthur had been unconscious.
An ember spat out with a crack and Arthur's attention turned to the fire. He wasn't frozen in place any more, no longer held by a conflict of whether Merlin was good or bad (who decided who was good or bad anyway? Weren't they all a little of each?), and so he stoked the embers, drawing them out to finish off the rabbit. Merlin turned to watch the newly awakened flames, his eyes golden-tinted as the flames reflected in them.
"With magic, you can learn it even if you have a small amount of potential. Most of them never even know they have a talent unless they go through something stressful or life threatening, or so Gaius told me. And even then, some people will be able to master spells and other people won't at all and any potential seen in them will just... fade as they forget, I suppose." Merlin's voice sounded wistful, as if he couldn't understand how magic could fade.
Ah, but Merlin was born with his magic wasn't he? Which made him special, so special that he couldn't be anything but a warlock just as Arthur couldn't be anything less than a prince.
"But for a Dragonlord, it's a power that's passed through a bloodline, from father to son." Arthur noticed the crack in Merlin's voice as he spoke. He fixed his gaze on his friend, knowing that eye contact wouldn't be an option at this stage in the story - Arthur could feel there was something important here, behind this part of it all - but he had to know what was showing on Merlin's face.
His features were softened, the barest of smiles on his lips as he looked to their little fire.
"No one ever told me," Merlin said, his eyes catching Arthur's out of the corner, not moving his head yet still managing to see everything of him. "Gaius was the one who did tell me, just before we left Camelot. I had no idea, still wouldn't have an idea if they had their way."
There was a lingering taste of resentment there, but it was long faded, long apologised for. Still, it was clear that whatever Gaius had told Merlin, it had made a great impact.
"When Uther started the Great Purge," Merlin said, (and did all of the stories begin with Uther? It was a reoccurring pattern; yet again, another reason why Arthur wanted to know how many of his father's mistakes had been cleaned up). "He ordered all the dragons to be killed and, as he believed the art of a Dragonlord to be too close to sorcery, he ordered their execution."
Arthur hadn't grown up to tales of Dragonlords, never even heard of them until Gaius had said they needed one. He'd grown up to stories of monsters who took hostages in towers and razed villages, of the dragons (monsters of nightmares), but never the very people who could talk to them, tame them. Even without hearing of their deeds, the way they brought the dragons down from the skies with but a thought, saddened him of their loss, a loss he'd never even have considered had Merlin not told him of it.
He had Merlin to thank for so many things it seemed.
"When it was just the Great Dragon and the last Dragonlord left, Uther convinced him that he wanted peace with the dragon, asking if Balinor could talk the dragon to come to Camelot." Arthur looked away, down to the browning grass at his feet as he knew what Merlin would say next. "Uther betrayed him, chained the dragon and imprisoned him, before ordering Balinor's execution."
Arthur had guessed as much when his father had been adamant that they couldn't trust a Dragonlord. But, you see, that was where Arthur and Uther split paths, for Uther would rather have seen Camelot crumble and his people die than ask a Dragonlord (let alone a magic user! The thought was laughable) for help, let alone beg for his help.
Even though Arthur had begged Balinor, pleaded for him to come in the fashion he had always been trained in - courtly, polite, a little demanding, but never rude or imposing - he had failed. It had been Merlin in the end, really, but at least he'd tried.
Arthur was willing to change while Uther would rather watch his world fall.
"Gaius helped get him out of Camelot," Merlin said and Arthur couldn't help the grin that spread onto his face at the thought.
Before Merlin had arrived in Camelot, Arthur was sure none of this would ever have come to light. Gaius was supposed to be respectable and the number one man in Uther's campaign of magic. And yet now, it seemed that he was more comfortable and more open with the man he used to be - the man he should still be had the Purge not begun (and yes, it still weighed heavily in Arthur's belly, but there was nothing he could do to change the past and he had to accept it, however unsavoury the taste).
"He had help, a woman took him in, gave him a home, a life." Arthur could hear the regret lacing Merlin's words, but couldn't place why it would be there.
"Uther followed him though and he left the village, left the woman he loved and left his life to... well we saw what he'd been living like. Not bad, really, but a far cry from a good life. And he was so bitter, so, so bitter," Merlin said, shaking his head as he moved away from the fire, facing Arthur head on, towering above.
There was a tug, low in Arthur's abdomen, as Merlin spoke. Balinor wasn't just a man to Merlin, that much was clear. Merlin had cried for him, after all, but they'd also spent time alone together, time that Arthur hadn't had and who knows what kind of things they could have talked about.
That was one bond Arthur would never be able to have with Merlin - one of magic. He wouldn't be able to talk about the feel of it, or how he was able to control something... not like Balinor would have been able to.
"The village he went to, the one Uther followed him to," Merlin said, the words leaving his throat quietly, as if they were stuck in his throat. "It was- was Ealdor."
It wasn't an admission or anything near the sort. Arthur could have drawn any conclusion from that should he have wanted to, that Balinor was just a man next door to Merlin, that he was just another face in the group of proud villagers... but he wanted the truth. The numbers were easy to see and Merlin's reaction from the whole trip made sense as it came back in trickles, his silence on their horses, his odd behaviour at the inn, the way he'd grinned as if receiving the best present in the world when he'd taken the wooden dragon statue Balinor had carved for him.
"He was your father?" Arthur said, the words strikingly loud despite the world moving on around them. The fire was still burning, the trees were singing with the wind and there were at least fifteen types of birds calling out, but they all muted as Merlin turned a tortured gaze to Arthur and nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he bit back tears.
Oh, Arthur thought, before, how many other tears had Merlin had to bite back and stuff away just to keep his secrets?
So he stood not to hold Merlin or pull him close, because Merlin was stronger than what Arthur could offer. Instead, he placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder and bowed his head slightly, a mark of respect for a man that he'd never been able to know, and for his son who had never had a chance to mourn.
Arthur had never been one to offer comfort. His idea to cheer someone up was to smack them on the arm, nudge them with a smile and a word akin to 'buck up'. He already knew from experience that Merlin didn't operate on the same wavelength as his knights, to whom such measures would have been more than adequate comfort.
There had been one time, back when Morgana was in Camelot and they'd thought her sure to die that Gwen had come to him one evening. Tears were already streaking down her chin and hands shaking as she'd explained that he was the only one she could think to go to, that her and Merlin weren't as close anymore - not that she'd been able to find him - and the thought of seeing Gaius' sorrowful expression, knowing there was no more he could do...
So she'd come to him, the one man who was probably worse at giving out comfort than some flesh eating monster hell bent on destroying Camelot. It hadn't been easy when she'd almost reached out, as Gwen no doubt would have done were he not the prince, stopping herself at the last moment, eyes shining with new tears.
It had been Arthur who'd wrapped his arms around her in a hug, hoping she could at least find some form of comfort from him. Gwen had twisted in his hold, sobbing and clutching at his chest, and all Arthur had been able to do was bury his head in her hair, whisper false promises of Morgana's health in her ear and keep his arms holding her.
Merlin was no Gwen. He hadn't sought comfort from Arthur, hadn't needed Arthur to be the strong one to comfort him. Instead, Merlin placed a hand of his own over Arthur's, offering the smallest smile before speaking.
"He passed his gift onto me," Merlin said, looking just to the left of Arthur's head, away to the distance.
And even though he must be hurting, to drag up so much of the past, here was Merlin, unwavering and still carrying on. Arthur imagined that even if the weight of the world was suddenly hoisted onto Merlin's back that he'd still be able to walk, hitching the world a little higher and simply look onwards with a smile, saying something stupid about it being a job someone had to bear and how the weight wasn't bad at all, if you shifted it just so.
"After the dragon knocked you out, I heard my father's voice telling me what I had to do." A weak smile passed on Merlin's lips and Arthur felt his hand slip a little, his strength wavering only slightly. The decision to link his fingers with Merlin's was an easy one, and he offered his strength where Merlin's was patched, just as Merlin had done for him so many times.
"I commanded him, forced him to obey and he listened." Merlin's eyes closed at the memory, his fingers twitching under the heat of Arthur's, squeezing just a little. "I granted him clemency, told him that attacking Camelot again would cause his death."
The words took a lot for Merlin to say, Arthur could see that. But who was Merlin to offer the dragon its freedom? He wasn't above the law, in Uther's eyes, and they'd been ordered to kill the dragon, so how had the decision formed, to grant such a creature the right of freedom.
That was easily explained. Merlin, such as he was, didn't fall under any category of Uther's law. He wasn't a subject, having been born and raised in Cenred's former land, and he never could be, not with Uther's ban on magic.
Arthur and the Knights had been the ones ordered to slay the dragon while Merlin was there for Arthur. Not on some noble quest, not on a mission to protect Camelot though that was tagged onto his actions, it wasn't the driving force. While some of the reason her had gone with them might have been guilt for releasing the dragon in the first place, Arthur knew that Merlin had ridden with them to face the dragon for his father and his Prince.
And if anyone had the right to decide what to do with a dragon, it should be a Dragonlord; someone Arthur knew to be exceptionally selfless with more courage than a hardened war horse. Merlin, too, was an ordinary person, not in the sense that he was boring or plain, but that he had been raised a peasant, with extraordinary gifts that he kept hidden. Merlin wasn't swayed by politics, by money or by anything else other than his own beliefs and the love for people around him.
"How did you know he would listen?" Arthur asked softly, eyes searching to meet Merlin's.
"The way the power of a Dragonlord works is that a dragon is unable to resist the command. If I told him to fetch me an apple, he would be bound to." Merlin opened his eyes slightly, lashes barely parting, but Arthur could see the glint of blue in the corner and knew Merlin was looking to him.
Arthur raised his eyebrows. He'd known the sway of power a Dragonlord had, but he hadn't known the full extent; that they could command the dragons to their whims. Uther's fear of them made sense, though that still didn't make it right.
Merlin loosened their fingers, stepping away from Arthur and towards the log he'd sat on before. Arthur expected him to sit back down, closed off, but instead he picked up one end, dragged the log towards Arthur's and looked back around their camp.
"It's easier," was all he offered, before moving to the rabbits. Arthur watched him remove them from the spit, but instead of offering the food out, Merlin moved to their packs, placed the food on a spare cloth he removed from his own bag and wrapped the meat up for later.
Why didn't Merlin use magic? With all these menial tasks and Arthur knowing, why didn't Merlin just mutter his spells and be done with them all? He longed to pose the question, but now was not the time. Merlin still had a lot to tell and it seemed that the answer to this scar was harder than the answer to the one he'd received from (essentially) saving Arthur.
He moved over to their seats, finding a suitable perch on the log where Merlin would be in reach, a firm presence for whatever story he was going to tell. Merlin joined him, his hands resting on his knees as he leant forwards, fiddling with a few strands of grass again.
"Morgause saved Morgana for a reason, not just because Morgana has magic." Merlin looked uncomfortable, but Arthur beat him to it.
"I know they're sisters." Arthur saw Merlin's eyes widen and his lips quirk downwards a little.
"Oh, I didn't realise you knew," Merlin replied. "Though I suppose it's not exactly a secret." He shrugged. "That's the problem when you begin keeping secrets; you start to grab onto them even when they're common knowledge and assume no one will ever find them out."
That was true, Arthur could agree. While his secrets were more linked to state affairs, whenever encountering someone else who was privy to the information, even he was wary. Secrets were to be guarded, held into your chest where they seeped and burnt, but still you could never let them go.
Then when that moment came where you could finally release it, it was hard. No secret was easy to tell, nothing that you'd had to hide could ever be easy to reveal, and if Arthur could give something -anything - back to Merlin, ease the revelations if only slightly, then he would.
"When Morgana came back to Camelot," Merlin began, letting the grass in his hands fall to the ground. "She said that she forgave me for what I'd done, that she understood why I'd had to do it."
Merlin gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I wanted to believe her, she was my friend and I'd poisoned her..." He paused, eyes darting across the ground as he frowned lightly. "I just wanted her to know how sorry I was, how I didn't want to hurt her and yet, well, I couldn't have let you die and Camelot fall."
Arthur nodded, wanting to say that it had been the right choice, that Merlin shouldn't have had to make it (because wasn't that a type of choice a king made?), but he couldn't. It was the right choice for Arthur because it had been Arthur's life and home on the line... if a dragon hadn't told Merlin about his destiny or if Merlin hadn't formed a bond with Arthur, would he have made that choice differently?
He cut that thought off. Merlin and he hadn't liked each other when they'd first met. They'd been two different people to who they were today - not quite grown up and still putting feelers out in the world. No matter what you were told, you couldn't change those opinions of a person unless you learnt them yourself and there was no way that Merlin would let someone simply tell him how to think, let someone form opinions for him.
They knew each other too well know, far too well, though it had taken Arthur a long time to realise this and fully accept it. Even now, with the magic and Merlin's secrets, it didn't impact on how they knew each other, how they could work together and spend hours in comfortable silence, picking unspoken words from a conversation of gestures and looks.
"Something wasn't right and I followed her out of Camelot one night. She met with Morgause in the woods, and while I couldn't hear the specifics of their plan, I knew they were up to something." Merlin ran a hand over his eyes with a sigh. "I'd wanted her to use her magic for good. It's why I helped her escape to the Druids once. I couldn't help her, but I could find people who would be able to."
Arthur frowned; "When did she go to the Druids?"
Merlin looked at him in slight surprise, as if the thought that Arthur didn't know seemed strange now. And wasn't that something to laugh about - the fact that Merlin was surprised Arthur didn't know the specifics of his life? That was good, much better, how it should be between friends and... well, whatever they were.
There was a frown on Merlin's brow and Arthur read the look well; Merlin was trying to remember. "Everyone in Camelot thought she'd been kidnapped by the Druids," he said, slowly and thoughtfully.
Arthur nodded his head, remembering. It was part of the reason they'd ridden to all known Druid settlements once Morgana had been missing and the damage left by the dragon had been sorted.
"You know how you say I'm not exactly the stealthiest of people?" Merlin asked suddenly, looking at Arthur with a small smirk. Arthur nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Morgana knew I'd been following her and I was captured by Cenred's men when I tried to run."
"Cenred's men?" Arthur asked. He'd known Morgause had been in league with Cenred during Morgana's reign (well, rather that she'd taken what she needed before killing him), but he hadn't realised that their allegiance went further back than the Castle of Fyrien.
"Morgause was working with Cenred during the battle following Morgana's return," Merlin said, filling the slight blanks that were left.
No longer did Arthur feel that he had to wait and have the story told. This wasn't just a tale any more, but a fact. These things had happened, Arthur had witnessed them, and now that he knew more of Merlin, had heard what he was capable of, he was free to question him. Their balance had wavered through the conversation, but it was becoming more even with every word shared.
"She left me in the wood, chained up." Merlin shifted his leg, bumping Arthur with the boot he'd smeared mud on earlier. "Magic wouldn't work against the chains so I suppose she used some sort of spell, though I should ask Gaius if he knows anything that would resist magic."
Arthur knew of a few instruments in the vaults - manacles, chains, ropes, and various chaining materials that had been used to trap magic users during the Purge and hold them against their will. They were gathering dust now, but Arthur was sure should Uther believe they were needed, he wouldn't hesitate a second. Just because Merlin didn't know of such objects didn't make them any less real, any less fear inspiring (to Arthur at least)
"I ended up surrounded by serkets, unable to do anything to get rid of them. What magic I could use would only work on one at a time and it was inevitable that one would get close enough to sting me." Merlin twisted around on his log, this time pulling his shirt up to reveal the mark on his back.
Arthur almost reached a hand out to touch it, but paused, snatching his hand back before it really moved.
"It's okay," Merlin said softly, "You can touch it."
Arthur's hands were trembling slightly as he reached to touch the scar on Merlin's back. There was something different in this moment, here with Merlin. Something was in the air, almost calling to him, pressing against him and telling him that this was the right thing to do. The first touch was a little too hard, jabbing into the skin by the mark with the tip of his finger, but Merlin didn't flinch away.
"Sorry," Arthur muttered, before placing his fingers over the slight indentation by Merlin's spine, smoothing his hand over the skin.
It was warm, perhaps a little warmer than the rest of Merlin's back, but then again Arthur was sure his own hands had heated considerably. He knew what scars felt like, old scars, and it was clear that this had been marking Merlin's skin for a while, but there was something different - something extra about it. He smoothed the edge with his fingertips, feeling goose bumps rise to his touch, before he covered the mark with his hand.
It was intimate, an acknowledgement of so many things. The loyalty Merlin had shown, the depths to which he would go for one man (for a destiny only proved to him through words of a dragon), a friendship, and maybe even Arthur's own faith in Merlin.
How strange it was to think that, when Arthur had never shown Merlin his faith in him before now. But he had, in a sense, because whenever he'd needed him, Merlin had been there, by his side even though he was just a servant. Merlin had been through more almost all knights, just because he was there for Arthur.
Who had been the one to pull Arthur up and tell him that it hadn't been the time to mope, that he had to do something for his people when Morgana had taken Camelot? Who had just admitted that he'd killed for Arthur and would do it again without any remorse? Whether he'd known it or not, Arthur had needed Merlin through those times and while there was so much to make up for, Merlin could stand by his side, free for all to see now, because Arthur knew and understood.
"I called the dragon," Merlin said and Arthur pressed the heel of his palm a little more against his skin, eyes closed as he could feel Merlin's back vibrate as he talked. "He healed me, but I had to get back to Camelot."
Merlin's shirt was bunched up around his neck, his arms hanging awkwardly, Arthur noted as he opened his eyes. It was a small sacrifice, but one nonetheless just so Arthur could feel his scars.
They weren't even important, not really. Just a mark on the flesh, nothing to be so damn curious about. If he'd known his curiosity would have led him here, would Arthur still have pressed and asked?
Yes. A thousand times yes. It was hard, knowing all of this, having everything finally revealed like a blindfold being pulled from his eyes, but it was right somehow.
"One day I'll take you on a dragon ride." Merlin half-turned; Arthur's hand skimming across his skin to rest against his ribs. He was smiling, privy to a joke Arthur was about to understand. "It was how I got back to Camelot and... well that comes later. But one day I'll take you."
The notion that Merlin had ridden a dragon - the Great Dragon to boot - tugged at Arthur's lips. Of course Merlin (the man who'd cried over a unicorn) would ride a dragon, something traditionally one was supposed to run from. Who needed tradition anyway? It was overrated, stuffy, and not needed for Arthur's future court.
He could feel Merlin's breathing steady under his hand, in, out, constant. Who said sorcerers weren't humans? Arthur had proof right here under his palm, with a heartbeat and breath with blood running through Merlin's veins and a story to tell, just like every other man.
"I returned to Camelot," Merlin continued, shifting slightly again so that his shirt was less bunched up around his neck, falling down over his back. Arthur's hand lay still as the fabric fell onto his arm and he looked at Merlin, moving his hand away.
"Morgana placed the Yew staff in the tombs of Camelot to raise the dead." Merlin's own hand followed his, catching his fingers just as they slid over a rib bone, pressing their palms together for a moment. "She took credit for it after, but I destroyed the staff and you were able to fight where it mattered."
Merlin shifted, side stepping and shuffling at the same time until he sat next to Arthur, sharing one log bench now. Their legs pressed against each other as Merlin settled their hands between them, never quite stilling the movement of his fingers as they danced shapes over his skin, on the back of his hand, up his fingers. Arthur tried to read the shapes, figure out if they were letters or just nonsensical babble.
Except nothing was nonsense when it came to Merlin.
"Morgana was the reason for your father's illness at that time too," Merlin said quietly.
They'd got off lucky then. Arthur said as much, thinking back to the history of illness in the male Pendragon line. Maybe it hadn't driven Uther to the edge then, but what about this time? Morgana had gone so far this time, who was to say that Uther would ever recover?
"This time it's not just a root you can burn," Arthur said, once Merlin had explained. "He's not going to get better."
The shapes on his hand stilled.
"You can't know that," Merlin said. "Gaius says he's getting better, it just takes time. I can't say that he'll ever be as good as he was, but times change. We can't all get things back, but we can take what is in front of us and make the best of it."
Arthur imagined that Merlin was tracing their names, over and over. Tracing the names of all the people they knew, the people who rooted them to the ground. There was so much responsibility that lay on his back, so much of that that too lay on Merlin's. There was always the option that they could just throw it all away now, run away and... and what?
"Sometimes," Arthur said softly, admitting more than he ever had before, "I wish that I could just leave. Pack up somewhere, pick any place where they've never even heard of a Camelot and just live there. Grow my own food and grow old without any burdens."
Merlin's fingers tightened around his hand as he stifled a snort of laughter. Arthur looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
"No you don't," Merlin answered, smile on his lips. "Sure it might pop up in that head of yours, but you never actually think about it. I saw you in Ealdor, there's no way you'd ever be happy with a life like that."
A huff of laughter escaped Arthur's chest. Merlin was right. He hadn't bought it for a moment, in true Merlin-fashion.
"Fine, you've got me." Merlin tapped the back of his hand, urging him on. "I don't want to leave Camelot, especially not to go and grow my own food." Merlin sniggered. "But... sometimes it's nice to wonder what it would be like."
There was probably no one else who would understand that. Uther was never a prince of Camelot, but an invading king; he'd never grown up with a kingdom resting on his shoulders. He'd never felt the dawn of his reign, knowing that you couldn't be anything less than brilliant or else he would let his people down.
Merlin did though. He understood the burdens perfectly, as if his life was fitted perfectly to Arthur's own.
"Is there enough room in that head of yours for all this wondering?" Merlin traced swirls and lines onto Arthur's wrist, inking invisible lines deep into Arthur's skin.
"Morgana tried to kill you, you know?" he said casually. "But I have a bit more of my story to tell before that," he added as Arthur stiffened, his fingers drumming out strange little beats against the bones in their hands.
.
but I couldn't turn my back on a world
.
| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten |