to the world that never let you be: 7/10
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
.
to the world that never let you be
Part Seven
.
The words hurt, Arthur could see that. The hand that hadn't been tracing Arthur's neck slipped from his shoulder, slowly, to rest next to Arthur's on the bark. It was just a twitch of the hand really before Arthur joined their hands again, smoothing over knuckles and the dorsal.
There still hadn't been time to mourn Morgana, not properly. During their stint between leaving Camelot and returning to conquer, Arthur had played Morgana's betrayal through his mind, but he'd never really accepted it. Merlin had made him realise that he could think of her later, but so far the only 'later' he'd been able to have had been at night, by which time he was too tired to do anything but fall onto bed.
He took a deep breath, knowing that the conversation would become painful. Merlin's revelations, while the idea of them may have stung (or rather that Arthur hadn't been privy to Merlin's secrets and Merlin had suffered so much, so alone), what Merlin had done hadn't cause pain, hadn't been hateful, hadn't done anything to hurt Arthur.
Morgana on the other hand... Arthur remembered how Uther had encircled his arms around him, in private two days after returning to their Kingdom. Morgana had planned to kill him, publically, told Uther as much.
Where had the woman he'd loved as a sister gone? How ironic was it that, the moment she realised she had a full blood tie to the name she'd (perhaps secretly) acquired in relation to Arthur, she became a traitor to them, solidified in her need (and was it a need?) for revenge.
The only person in the world that would understand was here, hands seeking for Arthur as Arthur sought for his.
"Can we talk about Morgana?"
It hurt, to say her name, but Merlin nodded. This time, it wasn't just for Arthur, not just for the truth. Merlin needed this too and, for the first time, Arthur could be there for him, properly, exactly how it should be.
"She suffered for years," Merlin began, his head falling forwards until all Arthur could see was dark hair, ruffled slightly at the back. "Gaius suspected she had some power, due to her nightmares."
Arthur could remember the nights when he and Morgana's rooms had been closer together, soon after she'd moved to Camelot. He'd heard her calling out into the night, pitiful sounds, frightful and sad, but everyone had simply muttered how the poor love was missing her father. Her cries had chilled Arthur's nights and he'd simply laid there some nights, listening to her sobs as he tried to figure out what sort of person this Morgana was.
(By day she was a cold, stoic girl, pale and commanding, but by night she was a fearful child, wanting nothing more than the end to her tortuous nights.)
"He forbade me from telling her about my own magic and..." Merlin paused, his fingers stilling against Arthur. The silence stretched between them and Arthur tucked their fingers together a little more, as if his mere presence could destroy the memories.
"I think I had the chance, more than once," he said softly, eyes reflecting their fire and the stars. Merlin looked as if he was miles away, planets away. "To tell her that is. I could have," he added, looking away from Arthur as if ashamed.
What should Merlin be ashamed of? Arthur didn't know what it was like to carry a deadly secret around from birth, be told to keep it secret and live with the fear of execution over his head from dawn to dusk, but he could hardly imagine it was easy to divulge such information. He knew, too, that if he had not sought Merlin out, backed him up and told him that there was no room for lies (not any more, never again), then Merlin's secret would still be his own, hidden and locked away from Arthur until... when? Whenever Merlin deemed necessary it seemed, but that could be years away yet.
But to be ashamed of not sharing something you'd held like a second skin, well that was ridiculous. Though it was easy now to say you should have done something, should have been there, should have told Morgana and maybe, just maybe, you could have prevented all this, Arthur knew that, at the time, Merlin had made a decision following his instincts. And who knows if Merlin revealing his powers to Morgana would actually have helped, and he said as much, softly.
Merlin nodded, "I know." He looked down, eyelashes casting feathered shadows over his cheekbones. "But I can't help but wonder... I have a horrible feeling," he paused again, the words caught in his throat.
Arthur waited. Whatever it was that Merlin wanted to say, it was clearly difficult for him. It sounded as if it was a newly fledged idea, something that perhaps Merlin hadn't had time to think over for himself yet, and to be telling someone else about it, particularly if you had spent the evening baring your soul for them. It was hard and Arthur respected Merlin greatly for what they'd gone through.
"There were times when I ignored the Great Dragon," Merlin began tentatively, sounding the words out as if he hadn't thought them over, played with them in his mind. "But for the most, I listened to his counsel. He told me about our destiny, of how, even if I chose to ignore it, we'd still find our paths crossing."
Merlin smiled briefly, his thumb resting on top of Arthur's hand as he tapped it gently. "I wonder if the dragon only called it destiny to make it sound more appealing. No matter what, we were never going to be forced together, by a spell or fate or something like that, but we'd always end up merging somehow." Merlin shook his head, smile slipping. "But the fact is, I listened to him. We had our disagreements and there's a lot I needed to know, but I listened."
The last word was stressed with a meaning Arthur couldn't quite grasp, but he ran his fingers over Merlin's hand, tilting his head a little to brush against the hand that lay at his neck.
"He suspected Morgana, told me that she'd end up betraying Camelot. I didn't believe him, but I wonder if that was part of the reason I never told her about my magic." His voice was almost torturous, a thousand different regrets and questions floating out into the night air.
"It sounds terrible, but part of me must have agreed with the dragon." Merlin removed his hand from Arthur's neck to run through his hair, head bowed. "But she was my friend and I tried to be there, but all I did was mess things up even more."
Arthur wanted to console him, reach out and reassure him that everything would be okay. Only, it wouldn't be, not with Morgana missing in wake of Camelot's destruction, not with her vow of revenge, not with everything Merlin had told him. To say everything would be okay was a lie, a stupid, foolish lie, and Arthur wouldn't.
"You did what you could," he said instead. "Merlin, you can't know everything. You thought you were helping her, doing what was right. Did you tell her to seek revenge against Camelot?"
He needed Merlin to understand this. If Merlin understood it, then maybe he could begin to understand it too, understand what Morgana had done and why she had turned her back on them.
"No," Merlin sad, sadly, without looking up. It was enough for Arthur to lean forwards, pushing against personal space boundaries, until he was staring at Merlin's hair, close enough to see individual strands, even in the darkness.
"Then you can't blame yourself," he replied and Merlin looked up slowly, eyes hesitant.
They stayed like that for a few moments, simply staring at each other. The world moved around them still, birds and animals living their lives while the trees rustled in a slight breeze. They were unaffected by what Morgana had done, did not care for the conversation that was taking place near them, and it was strange to think of that.
What had these trees seen? How many conversations (life shattering ones at that) had they witnessed? They stood tall, proud almost, impartial to Uther's rule or Arthur's realisations. They didn't care for the crimes of magic or the punishments of sorcerers, instead they cared about the sun and the rain, roots seeking what they needed.
Much like a tree's root, Arthur's hand sought Merlin, fingers tangling upon instinct. He'd never held hands with someone before - at least not properly - but Merlin was what he needed now. And, by the way Merlin's shoulders drooped slightly, he'd wager Merlin needed him too.
"You don't think you're to blame, do you?"
Arthur didn't know how to answer the question and it lay heavy about him. No, he didn't blame himself, but there was something there. Should he have seen the signs? Were there any signs to see? Apparently there had been plenty of incidences, but none he'd been privy to.
"No," he said, looking over Merlin's shoulder. He could see the vague outline of a bush and then nothing, only darkness.
"I don't blame myself, but I can't help from wondering." Merlin squeezed his hand encouragingly, shifting against Arthur's legs as he moved forwards a little. Their foreheads were a short space apart, improper for a man of Arthur's stature and a servant, but they'd thrown titles out of the window hours ago.
"She'd been betraying us since she returned," and Merlin nodded to the almost-question, clarifying it for him. "How can one year take away a lifetime with us? I know she was scared and Morgause accepted her but..."
He couldn't say the rest, letting the words fall out with a sigh. He wanted to ask why Morgana was happy to turn her back on her family and trust the word of someone like Morgause so easily. It had taken Arthur years before Morgana had trusted him properly, but Morgause could do it in under a year?
"Morgause gave her a bracelet, back when she challenged you to a duel. Gaius told me that the bracelet seemed to have a healing charm on it, one that prevented her nightmares." Merlin paused, his mouth twisting into something unsavoury. "I've seen the future and it's enough to drive you to insanity. If that was what Morgana went through every night, I can't blame her for wanting some kind of solace from the visions."
Did that mean Merlin forgave Morgana for abandoning them and joining Morgause?
"That doesn't mean I think she was justified with what she did," he said hurriedly, turning Arthur's hands over in his own. "It's just once she found Morgause, I suppose there wasn't much reason to look for another answer."
They should have been there. Arthur had wondered about Morgana for weeks, wondering what drove her to Morgause in the first place. Even knowing now that Merlin had poisoned her hadn't explained everything - for why had the enchantment been placed on her in the first place?
If they had been there though, what could they have done? Morgana would have still had her nightmares (and Merlin agreed they were horrible things) and what else could they have done? Nothing, was the answer.
Besides, it wasn't as if they could go back and change the past. Not even magic could do something like that, Arthur was sure, or else Merlin would have certainly used that power.
(Or maybe not, because this was Merlin and Merlin wouldn't abuse his power in such a way... but another sorcerer then. Or had it been done and they just didn't know?)
"Can you go back in time, change things?" Arthur decided to ask, looking to Merlin for an answer, something that seemed so natural.
The look he received made his stomach lurch. It was one of sadness, of consideration and one that told Arthur his answer without the words being spoken.
"No," Merlin said anyway. "I don't think I'd do something like that even if it were possible though."
He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side.
"I wouldn't try for Morgana," he said, the words only just audible. "Never for her, but..." Arthur knew the words next. "But for you... maybe."
The words weren't a comfort in any sense. Instead, Arthur grit his jaw, moving his head back and pushing back on the log slightly. He didn't untangle his hands, but Merlin's motions stilled at his intent, at his clear disapproval at the answer.
"Never." Arthur said firmly. "Not for me, not for anyone." He forced his jaw to soften, forced himself to look Merlin in the eye. "Whatever happens in the future, never even try."
Merlin looked at him, a frown creasing his brow as if there was a question he couldn't comprehend. But why didn't he get it? Maybe to Merlin turning back time wasn't that much of a feat, but for the rest of the world...
If, for Arthur, Merlin reversed his death, what then? If, for Arthur, Merlin reversed someone dying, or someone killing or someone doing something at any time of the day, when did it stop?
But, mostly, the thought of Merlin going against the power of time itself scared Arthur. He said there had to be a balance with the Old Religion, and if he changed a time line, what then? If he rewrote a day of the world, did the time get taken from him?
Merlin thought that he wouldn't be able to go on without Arthur, but he hadn't quite realised yet that it was Arthur who wouldn't be able to live without him. And maybe, now, amongst the bitter betrayal of Morgana, it was time he told Merlin.
"What did you think of me when we first met?" Arthur asked, still leant away from Merlin. The words were considered before Merlin shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose that you were a massive prat and a bully." He paused. "But you've changed a lot since then," a smile tugged at his lips. "At least on the bully subject, the prat one, not so much."
Arthur fixed him with a stare, "Careful now, or you'll be sleeping in the mud tonight while I take both bedrolls."
Merlin rolled his eyes and it was almost as if they were in another time, any other day, any other hunting trip. Merlin nudged him with his foot and Arthur gave a reluctant smile, shaking his head slightly, enjoying the break in their conversation.
"I thought you were an idiot," he said and noticed the smile slip off of Merlin's face. "When I thought about it later though, I guess there was a bit of admiration." Arthur glanced to Merlin, who was watching him raptly now.
"It's not every day someone comes up to you, practically tells you you're a bully and then has the audacity to try and throw a punch..." he smiled a little at the memory, so long ago now. "Then I thought you were a big simpleton when Gaius asked my father if you could be let out of the dungeons. He told him you have a mental affliction," Arthur added on the end with a smirk.
"Oh so Gaius is the one responsible for that is he? Mental affliction," Merlin muttered, frowning.
"It's come in handy in the past though," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow. He didn't know all the times Merlin had used magic, but now that he knew most of the idiotic behaviour was probably covering up from a life-saving event, Arthur was quite happy to keep up the 'mental affliction' business, at least to his father.
Well. Not that Uther would probably think of anyone but Morgana and Morgause if anything magical happened, and that was supposing, too, that he was still fit enough to rule and didn't delegate it all to Arthur.
"I suppose it has." Merlin looked away for a moment, off into the darkness around.
"What is it?" Arthur asked. He could do that now, could ask Merlin what was going on and Merlin would tell the truth.
"Nothing," was the quick reply, and Arthur didn't believe him for a second.
"It's obviously something." He shuffled forwards, tilted at the waist, until he could see Merlin's eyes clearly, even in the dim light offered by the fire.
Merlin didn't look at him though, at least not at first. His gaze was fixed down at the ground, down by Arthur's boot. There was nothing fascinating down there (they both knew that, after a conversation like the one they'd both had, the ground had become a fixture in their lives. Arthur knew this ground now, knew that by his boot was just a patch of drying mud and a pathetic clump of grass), but Merlin looked at it for a while before he spoke.
"I just..." He stopped again and Arthur felt impatience swell up, ever so slightly. After all, Merlin had revealed a secret that could have had him killed and other instances following that line, what could be so hard about what he had to say now?
"I didn't like it. I don't like it," he amended quickly, "When you call me an idiot."
Arthur was silent for a moment, digesting what had been said. Nobody liked being called an idiot (especially when they weren't one), but what he'd said was more loaded than just a simple dislike. How many times had Arthur called Merlin an idiot unjustifiably? Yes, there were times when Merlin had been an idiot, but he was willing to wager that they were far outweighed.
He had a choice now. To cross a bridge and say how he really felt about Merlin (not that he knew, but he could talk and think), or to simply apologise and cut the cord before it was formed. The latter was more appealing, despite how cold hearted it sounded. Arthur didn't talk about feelings, he didn't think about feelings and he certainly didn't show his innermost feelings.
But... this was Merlin.
That, Arthur had realised, was a reason all in itself.
"I know," he began, fingers catching on the bark of the log again, nails sliding under a patch, trying to work it loose. It was something to do, something to think about while he bared himself.
"You've never been an idiot. I mean, you've done stupid things," he gave a brief smile of all the times Merlin had tripped or spoke out of turn - to name just two. "But you're not an idiot."
He swallowed, throat strangely dry all of a sudden. And now he was looking at the ground - mud and grass combination still the only thing around - while Merlin's stare pressed against his cheek.
"You're brave. Even though you have your magic, you've never been trained for conflict other than the sessions we have." A wry smile wormed its way into the open then, settling between them, memories of Arthur literally beating training into Merlin. "And yet you're still always there aren't you?"
Arthur gave a small shrug of his shoulders. There was a reason why he didn't talk about 'feelings' and that reason was because he was crap at it. But he'd already started now and Merlin had finished his story, so why should Arthur be allowed to stop?
"I also think that you're clever." He risked a glance to Merlin at that point and saw his wide eyes, as if he as amazed to hear what Arthur was saying. Had he really been so careless towards Merlin before this?
"You sort a lot of things out, don't you? And you always know the right thing to say to me when I need to hear it. Amongst the inane babble of course," he tagged on, feeling a little too exposed, a little too raw.
Was that how Merlin felt every time he'd revealed his magic? Raw, open, too open? It was a strange feeling because Arthur desperately wanted to keep these feelings hidden (like a Prince was supposed to; Princes don't wear hearts on their sleeves for they're to be Kings), but there was an itch, an urge, to say them. For Merlin to finally know, for Arthur to finally say.
He shifted on the log, nudging Merlin's legs as he did so. They were resting almost limply now, as if all the energy Merlin contained was focused solely on what Arthur was saying, as if they were the most important words he'd ever heard.
"I've always known those things about you though," he said, returning to digging his nails under the bark of the log, to pressing the soles of his feet into the mud and to focusing on the hiss of the fire. To do anything else (to focus on Merlin) and he'd lose the already frail words.
(It was silly, really. He was supposed to be a brave Prince, scared of nothing and conqueror of all. Only, words were the backbone of fear, weren't they? To be afraid of words - with all the things they could imagine up, all the stories, all the lies, all the truths - was a more righteous fear than that of magic, or that of sorcerers, but Uther would never understand that. His father had always seen it as a weakness, not the display of emotions, but the fear they might bring. For Uther, fear was more corporeal, embodied in the flesh of anyone who even dared think of magic.)
"I just..." he broke off, digging furiously under the small gap the bark had let up. It eventually gave, suddenly, and his hand slipped a little, scraping against the bark. He curled his lip at the sting of pain and started when Merlin took his hand carefully.
"Look what you've done now," he muttered, head bent over their hands, inspecting the scrape. "What did the poor log ever do to you?"
Arthur smiled and Merlin looked up, curiously. It was almost as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle, or that he was wondering if Arthur would continue.
He would.
"I've never told you about it." He paused. "I never talk to anyone about stuff like this, as you know, but... it's come to the point where I have to tell you, hasn't it?" Merlin's hand gripped a little tighter, his gaze shifting as if he had no idea what Arthur was about to say.
"The truth," Arthur began, stopping to regain his stride. Why was something like this scarier than fighting bandits? Well, he thought, facing bandits was a given and he'd trained for it. Saying this to Merlin - with those horrifying, terrible words - and needing him.
"The truth is that..." he could still turn back, even now. "I... Need you," he grated out, looking out into the settled darkness. "I need you to... be by my side. I need you to tell me when I'm being a prat, I need you to be there when I need someone to tease." It was easier now, now that he'd found his stride and Merlin hadn't torn himself away in disgust.
"I need you to help me build my kingdom, to be there for Camelot, for her people - our people," he amended quickly, gritting his jaw. "So all the times you've said you're going to be there for me, and all the times you said that you'll help me... it's my turn now."
He grasped Merlin's hands, pulling him closer. Their noses were a fraction apart, eyes locked together as Arthur placed one hand on Merlin's shoulder, curled against his neck.
"I'm going to be there for you. When the world is against you and you need someone to talk to, when the pressure of Camelot is too much, when Gwaine gets drunk and forgets that he's not staying in Gaius' quarters and you need someone to kick him out, even." Merlin smiled at the last point, his free hand coming up to rest on Arthur's wrist at his shoulder.
"I'm going to be by your side, just as you're going to be by mine, and while I can't promise I won't be a prat, I trust you more than anyone else." From the widening of Merlin's eyes, Arthur guessed that he hadn't expected that. Trust was an important thing for Merlin, that much was clear. He'd spoken of his secrets, but never once begged for Arthur to simply just trust him. He'd asked him to, but never begged.
Not that he'd needed to ask in the first place. Arthur had always trusted him, though they'd had their hiccups.
"You've got more to learn from Gaius," Arthur carried on, against the frown that appeared on Merlin's brow at the mention of his teacher. "But when I'm King, I want you to sit by me and... advise me."
Merlin struggled with a smirk then and they both knew that what Arthur really meant was for Merlin to keep him from being too much of a prat, being someone who could turn into Uther (when he was on the case of magic), being someone who wouldn't care.
"So I need you. Just like you need me." He swallowed thickly. "What do you say?"
For a horrible, frightening moment, Arthur thought that Merlin would pull away, laugh and shake his head. His thoughts were unfounded though as Merlin smiled, dropping his eyes and nodding.
"I say whatever you need to hear," he said softly with a twitch of his lips. His words were sincere, with the subtle edge of mocking Arthur had come to expect and enjoy, that Arthur missed whenever he hadn't seen Merlin for the day.
He couldn't say when Merlin had become a needed fixture of his day. Perhaps it was when Uther had appointed him as his manservant, or perhaps after the tenth time they'd saved each other. Maybe it was when Merlin had faced bandits, dragons, beasts and humans all set to maim and kill, or when Merlin was ready to put his life on the line for his friends again and again.
Between Lady Helen (or at least the witch) throwing a knife at him and Merlin dropping all of his guard out here in the clearing, Arthur's life had consumed Merlin, making it impossible to live without him.
He was annoying, loud, idiotic and far too kind for his own good sometimes, but those weren't bad things. Never bad things when Merlin would storm into the room, blinding grin in place to turn the day upside down, never awful when he'd rouse Arthur with the same thing again and again, never evil despite his magic.
Neither had spoken for a while now, bathing in the dying embers of the fire and looking at each other, mapping out the flecks and blemishes in the other's face. The darkness smoothed away some of the lines, but the important marks (all the smiles, the memories of the good times) could be traced, small lines and wrinkles Merlin had earned.
As he had smoothed over the scars earlier, Arthur ran his thumb over Merlin's cheek, dipping ever so slightly into the crinkles by Merlin's eye. He stilled his hand, resting the bridge of his palm on Merlin's cheekbone, gaze softening as he noticed the look in Merlin's eyes.
It wasn't devotion. Devotion made it seem as if Arthur were some god, some ethereal being who should be worshipped, but he was only a man. Merlin wasn't devoted to him (not like the people of Camelot were, but he was a prince - future king - above all to them) and never would be, because he took Arthur as he came, saw him behind the crown and the false words. He knew that Arthur could feel fear and horror, that he could bleed like any other man or woman and that he could love and care, both for a kingdom and individuals.
There was respect, but Merlin had always held him in respect, especially when he (they, because Merlin had always been there too) had made the right decisions. Decisions such as giving townspeople back their money in hard times, sitting with a soldier who was gravely injured and had no one else on the battlefield, caring for his people in ways Uther had never quite managed.
It wasn't that Uther was a bad king - on the contrary he had brought peace to Camelot and continued to rule justly and fairly (for those without magic at least). He genuinely cared for his subjects and was willing to lend aid to those who needed it, or at least offer suggestions when it was impractical to send direct aid.
It was different for Arthur though. His father was half-blind, executing magic users and ignoring the issues closer to home. And Arthur had wanted to blame Morgana's decisions on Uther at first (because she could have had it all; a brother, a father, a kingdom to love just as her kin did, but instead she'd been left with nothing), yet he couldn't. Uther did what he'd believed right and so had Morgana.
That didn't mean what they believed was right was right for the rest of the world. In trying to eradicate magic, Uther had caused so much pain and suffering. He'd ripped families apart on a quest for revenge, turning into the very thing he loathed the most, turning into someone who did what had been done to him, albeit in a different form.
Merlin sighed, his breath fanning against Arthur's cheek. He smelt of fire smoke, rabbit and mud, much like Arthur himself probably did. There was no announcement of his magic, no distinct smell or odd body feature. Uther hadn't been good at finding sorcerers, he'd simply been lucky and picked on the weak and scared, moving to suspicion and deeper fear and hatred later on.
"Thank you," Arthur said, hoping that Merlin could see everything in his eyes, of the choices he'd made over the evening and the time that would dawn with his coronation. He wasn't thanking Merlin just for his reply, but for everything they'd said, everything that had passed between them.
Merlin's lips opened slightly and at their proximity, Arthur heard the curious little sound they made as they parted and he glanced down. A ghost of a smile appeared as the hand at Merlin's cheek jerked a little, against the other man, and Arthur met Merlin's eyes again, burning full of questions.
It wasn't Arthur, though, who negated the space between them, pressing the smallest of kisses to the corner of Arthur's jaw, at the juncture of his neck. It was barely even a touch of lips, but it sent a shock though the whole of Arthur's body, caused his heart to beat furiously as he glanced sideways to Merlin.
Merlin began marking a trail, leaving a ghosting touch from tiny kisses, along Arthur's jaw with a pause at his lips, turning his attention to the other side of Arthur. His nose left a smooth line, a constant compared to the peppered kisses, so Arthur waited, knowing that even when Merlin stopped this wouldn't be over. Between them, it was more than casual, simple touches. Every finger pad held a shared story, each kiss told of the truths they had shared. A million ways to repeat their promises, cast them in stone to last forever; their promises of each other, forever.
"You mean so much," Merlin whispered, resting his forehead against Arthur's temple, the angle awkward but not uncomfortable. Arthur could feel the flutter of eyelashes and the slight brush of lips on his cheek so he closed his eyes, wondering what he'd ever done to deserve this, to deserve someone such as Merlin.
.
but I'd understand that the world does what it does
.
| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten |
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
.
to the world that never let you be
Part Seven
.
The words hurt, Arthur could see that. The hand that hadn't been tracing Arthur's neck slipped from his shoulder, slowly, to rest next to Arthur's on the bark. It was just a twitch of the hand really before Arthur joined their hands again, smoothing over knuckles and the dorsal.
There still hadn't been time to mourn Morgana, not properly. During their stint between leaving Camelot and returning to conquer, Arthur had played Morgana's betrayal through his mind, but he'd never really accepted it. Merlin had made him realise that he could think of her later, but so far the only 'later' he'd been able to have had been at night, by which time he was too tired to do anything but fall onto bed.
He took a deep breath, knowing that the conversation would become painful. Merlin's revelations, while the idea of them may have stung (or rather that Arthur hadn't been privy to Merlin's secrets and Merlin had suffered so much, so alone), what Merlin had done hadn't cause pain, hadn't been hateful, hadn't done anything to hurt Arthur.
Morgana on the other hand... Arthur remembered how Uther had encircled his arms around him, in private two days after returning to their Kingdom. Morgana had planned to kill him, publically, told Uther as much.
Where had the woman he'd loved as a sister gone? How ironic was it that, the moment she realised she had a full blood tie to the name she'd (perhaps secretly) acquired in relation to Arthur, she became a traitor to them, solidified in her need (and was it a need?) for revenge.
The only person in the world that would understand was here, hands seeking for Arthur as Arthur sought for his.
"Can we talk about Morgana?"
It hurt, to say her name, but Merlin nodded. This time, it wasn't just for Arthur, not just for the truth. Merlin needed this too and, for the first time, Arthur could be there for him, properly, exactly how it should be.
"She suffered for years," Merlin began, his head falling forwards until all Arthur could see was dark hair, ruffled slightly at the back. "Gaius suspected she had some power, due to her nightmares."
Arthur could remember the nights when he and Morgana's rooms had been closer together, soon after she'd moved to Camelot. He'd heard her calling out into the night, pitiful sounds, frightful and sad, but everyone had simply muttered how the poor love was missing her father. Her cries had chilled Arthur's nights and he'd simply laid there some nights, listening to her sobs as he tried to figure out what sort of person this Morgana was.
(By day she was a cold, stoic girl, pale and commanding, but by night she was a fearful child, wanting nothing more than the end to her tortuous nights.)
"He forbade me from telling her about my own magic and..." Merlin paused, his fingers stilling against Arthur. The silence stretched between them and Arthur tucked their fingers together a little more, as if his mere presence could destroy the memories.
"I think I had the chance, more than once," he said softly, eyes reflecting their fire and the stars. Merlin looked as if he was miles away, planets away. "To tell her that is. I could have," he added, looking away from Arthur as if ashamed.
What should Merlin be ashamed of? Arthur didn't know what it was like to carry a deadly secret around from birth, be told to keep it secret and live with the fear of execution over his head from dawn to dusk, but he could hardly imagine it was easy to divulge such information. He knew, too, that if he had not sought Merlin out, backed him up and told him that there was no room for lies (not any more, never again), then Merlin's secret would still be his own, hidden and locked away from Arthur until... when? Whenever Merlin deemed necessary it seemed, but that could be years away yet.
But to be ashamed of not sharing something you'd held like a second skin, well that was ridiculous. Though it was easy now to say you should have done something, should have been there, should have told Morgana and maybe, just maybe, you could have prevented all this, Arthur knew that, at the time, Merlin had made a decision following his instincts. And who knows if Merlin revealing his powers to Morgana would actually have helped, and he said as much, softly.
Merlin nodded, "I know." He looked down, eyelashes casting feathered shadows over his cheekbones. "But I can't help but wonder... I have a horrible feeling," he paused again, the words caught in his throat.
Arthur waited. Whatever it was that Merlin wanted to say, it was clearly difficult for him. It sounded as if it was a newly fledged idea, something that perhaps Merlin hadn't had time to think over for himself yet, and to be telling someone else about it, particularly if you had spent the evening baring your soul for them. It was hard and Arthur respected Merlin greatly for what they'd gone through.
"There were times when I ignored the Great Dragon," Merlin began tentatively, sounding the words out as if he hadn't thought them over, played with them in his mind. "But for the most, I listened to his counsel. He told me about our destiny, of how, even if I chose to ignore it, we'd still find our paths crossing."
Merlin smiled briefly, his thumb resting on top of Arthur's hand as he tapped it gently. "I wonder if the dragon only called it destiny to make it sound more appealing. No matter what, we were never going to be forced together, by a spell or fate or something like that, but we'd always end up merging somehow." Merlin shook his head, smile slipping. "But the fact is, I listened to him. We had our disagreements and there's a lot I needed to know, but I listened."
The last word was stressed with a meaning Arthur couldn't quite grasp, but he ran his fingers over Merlin's hand, tilting his head a little to brush against the hand that lay at his neck.
"He suspected Morgana, told me that she'd end up betraying Camelot. I didn't believe him, but I wonder if that was part of the reason I never told her about my magic." His voice was almost torturous, a thousand different regrets and questions floating out into the night air.
"It sounds terrible, but part of me must have agreed with the dragon." Merlin removed his hand from Arthur's neck to run through his hair, head bowed. "But she was my friend and I tried to be there, but all I did was mess things up even more."
Arthur wanted to console him, reach out and reassure him that everything would be okay. Only, it wouldn't be, not with Morgana missing in wake of Camelot's destruction, not with her vow of revenge, not with everything Merlin had told him. To say everything would be okay was a lie, a stupid, foolish lie, and Arthur wouldn't.
"You did what you could," he said instead. "Merlin, you can't know everything. You thought you were helping her, doing what was right. Did you tell her to seek revenge against Camelot?"
He needed Merlin to understand this. If Merlin understood it, then maybe he could begin to understand it too, understand what Morgana had done and why she had turned her back on them.
"No," Merlin sad, sadly, without looking up. It was enough for Arthur to lean forwards, pushing against personal space boundaries, until he was staring at Merlin's hair, close enough to see individual strands, even in the darkness.
"Then you can't blame yourself," he replied and Merlin looked up slowly, eyes hesitant.
They stayed like that for a few moments, simply staring at each other. The world moved around them still, birds and animals living their lives while the trees rustled in a slight breeze. They were unaffected by what Morgana had done, did not care for the conversation that was taking place near them, and it was strange to think of that.
What had these trees seen? How many conversations (life shattering ones at that) had they witnessed? They stood tall, proud almost, impartial to Uther's rule or Arthur's realisations. They didn't care for the crimes of magic or the punishments of sorcerers, instead they cared about the sun and the rain, roots seeking what they needed.
Much like a tree's root, Arthur's hand sought Merlin, fingers tangling upon instinct. He'd never held hands with someone before - at least not properly - but Merlin was what he needed now. And, by the way Merlin's shoulders drooped slightly, he'd wager Merlin needed him too.
"You don't think you're to blame, do you?"
Arthur didn't know how to answer the question and it lay heavy about him. No, he didn't blame himself, but there was something there. Should he have seen the signs? Were there any signs to see? Apparently there had been plenty of incidences, but none he'd been privy to.
"No," he said, looking over Merlin's shoulder. He could see the vague outline of a bush and then nothing, only darkness.
"I don't blame myself, but I can't help from wondering." Merlin squeezed his hand encouragingly, shifting against Arthur's legs as he moved forwards a little. Their foreheads were a short space apart, improper for a man of Arthur's stature and a servant, but they'd thrown titles out of the window hours ago.
"She'd been betraying us since she returned," and Merlin nodded to the almost-question, clarifying it for him. "How can one year take away a lifetime with us? I know she was scared and Morgause accepted her but..."
He couldn't say the rest, letting the words fall out with a sigh. He wanted to ask why Morgana was happy to turn her back on her family and trust the word of someone like Morgause so easily. It had taken Arthur years before Morgana had trusted him properly, but Morgause could do it in under a year?
"Morgause gave her a bracelet, back when she challenged you to a duel. Gaius told me that the bracelet seemed to have a healing charm on it, one that prevented her nightmares." Merlin paused, his mouth twisting into something unsavoury. "I've seen the future and it's enough to drive you to insanity. If that was what Morgana went through every night, I can't blame her for wanting some kind of solace from the visions."
Did that mean Merlin forgave Morgana for abandoning them and joining Morgause?
"That doesn't mean I think she was justified with what she did," he said hurriedly, turning Arthur's hands over in his own. "It's just once she found Morgause, I suppose there wasn't much reason to look for another answer."
They should have been there. Arthur had wondered about Morgana for weeks, wondering what drove her to Morgause in the first place. Even knowing now that Merlin had poisoned her hadn't explained everything - for why had the enchantment been placed on her in the first place?
If they had been there though, what could they have done? Morgana would have still had her nightmares (and Merlin agreed they were horrible things) and what else could they have done? Nothing, was the answer.
Besides, it wasn't as if they could go back and change the past. Not even magic could do something like that, Arthur was sure, or else Merlin would have certainly used that power.
(Or maybe not, because this was Merlin and Merlin wouldn't abuse his power in such a way... but another sorcerer then. Or had it been done and they just didn't know?)
"Can you go back in time, change things?" Arthur decided to ask, looking to Merlin for an answer, something that seemed so natural.
The look he received made his stomach lurch. It was one of sadness, of consideration and one that told Arthur his answer without the words being spoken.
"No," Merlin said anyway. "I don't think I'd do something like that even if it were possible though."
He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side.
"I wouldn't try for Morgana," he said, the words only just audible. "Never for her, but..." Arthur knew the words next. "But for you... maybe."
The words weren't a comfort in any sense. Instead, Arthur grit his jaw, moving his head back and pushing back on the log slightly. He didn't untangle his hands, but Merlin's motions stilled at his intent, at his clear disapproval at the answer.
"Never." Arthur said firmly. "Not for me, not for anyone." He forced his jaw to soften, forced himself to look Merlin in the eye. "Whatever happens in the future, never even try."
Merlin looked at him, a frown creasing his brow as if there was a question he couldn't comprehend. But why didn't he get it? Maybe to Merlin turning back time wasn't that much of a feat, but for the rest of the world...
If, for Arthur, Merlin reversed his death, what then? If, for Arthur, Merlin reversed someone dying, or someone killing or someone doing something at any time of the day, when did it stop?
But, mostly, the thought of Merlin going against the power of time itself scared Arthur. He said there had to be a balance with the Old Religion, and if he changed a time line, what then? If he rewrote a day of the world, did the time get taken from him?
Merlin thought that he wouldn't be able to go on without Arthur, but he hadn't quite realised yet that it was Arthur who wouldn't be able to live without him. And maybe, now, amongst the bitter betrayal of Morgana, it was time he told Merlin.
"What did you think of me when we first met?" Arthur asked, still leant away from Merlin. The words were considered before Merlin shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose that you were a massive prat and a bully." He paused. "But you've changed a lot since then," a smile tugged at his lips. "At least on the bully subject, the prat one, not so much."
Arthur fixed him with a stare, "Careful now, or you'll be sleeping in the mud tonight while I take both bedrolls."
Merlin rolled his eyes and it was almost as if they were in another time, any other day, any other hunting trip. Merlin nudged him with his foot and Arthur gave a reluctant smile, shaking his head slightly, enjoying the break in their conversation.
"I thought you were an idiot," he said and noticed the smile slip off of Merlin's face. "When I thought about it later though, I guess there was a bit of admiration." Arthur glanced to Merlin, who was watching him raptly now.
"It's not every day someone comes up to you, practically tells you you're a bully and then has the audacity to try and throw a punch..." he smiled a little at the memory, so long ago now. "Then I thought you were a big simpleton when Gaius asked my father if you could be let out of the dungeons. He told him you have a mental affliction," Arthur added on the end with a smirk.
"Oh so Gaius is the one responsible for that is he? Mental affliction," Merlin muttered, frowning.
"It's come in handy in the past though," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow. He didn't know all the times Merlin had used magic, but now that he knew most of the idiotic behaviour was probably covering up from a life-saving event, Arthur was quite happy to keep up the 'mental affliction' business, at least to his father.
Well. Not that Uther would probably think of anyone but Morgana and Morgause if anything magical happened, and that was supposing, too, that he was still fit enough to rule and didn't delegate it all to Arthur.
"I suppose it has." Merlin looked away for a moment, off into the darkness around.
"What is it?" Arthur asked. He could do that now, could ask Merlin what was going on and Merlin would tell the truth.
"Nothing," was the quick reply, and Arthur didn't believe him for a second.
"It's obviously something." He shuffled forwards, tilted at the waist, until he could see Merlin's eyes clearly, even in the dim light offered by the fire.
Merlin didn't look at him though, at least not at first. His gaze was fixed down at the ground, down by Arthur's boot. There was nothing fascinating down there (they both knew that, after a conversation like the one they'd both had, the ground had become a fixture in their lives. Arthur knew this ground now, knew that by his boot was just a patch of drying mud and a pathetic clump of grass), but Merlin looked at it for a while before he spoke.
"I just..." He stopped again and Arthur felt impatience swell up, ever so slightly. After all, Merlin had revealed a secret that could have had him killed and other instances following that line, what could be so hard about what he had to say now?
"I didn't like it. I don't like it," he amended quickly, "When you call me an idiot."
Arthur was silent for a moment, digesting what had been said. Nobody liked being called an idiot (especially when they weren't one), but what he'd said was more loaded than just a simple dislike. How many times had Arthur called Merlin an idiot unjustifiably? Yes, there were times when Merlin had been an idiot, but he was willing to wager that they were far outweighed.
He had a choice now. To cross a bridge and say how he really felt about Merlin (not that he knew, but he could talk and think), or to simply apologise and cut the cord before it was formed. The latter was more appealing, despite how cold hearted it sounded. Arthur didn't talk about feelings, he didn't think about feelings and he certainly didn't show his innermost feelings.
But... this was Merlin.
That, Arthur had realised, was a reason all in itself.
"I know," he began, fingers catching on the bark of the log again, nails sliding under a patch, trying to work it loose. It was something to do, something to think about while he bared himself.
"You've never been an idiot. I mean, you've done stupid things," he gave a brief smile of all the times Merlin had tripped or spoke out of turn - to name just two. "But you're not an idiot."
He swallowed, throat strangely dry all of a sudden. And now he was looking at the ground - mud and grass combination still the only thing around - while Merlin's stare pressed against his cheek.
"You're brave. Even though you have your magic, you've never been trained for conflict other than the sessions we have." A wry smile wormed its way into the open then, settling between them, memories of Arthur literally beating training into Merlin. "And yet you're still always there aren't you?"
Arthur gave a small shrug of his shoulders. There was a reason why he didn't talk about 'feelings' and that reason was because he was crap at it. But he'd already started now and Merlin had finished his story, so why should Arthur be allowed to stop?
"I also think that you're clever." He risked a glance to Merlin at that point and saw his wide eyes, as if he as amazed to hear what Arthur was saying. Had he really been so careless towards Merlin before this?
"You sort a lot of things out, don't you? And you always know the right thing to say to me when I need to hear it. Amongst the inane babble of course," he tagged on, feeling a little too exposed, a little too raw.
Was that how Merlin felt every time he'd revealed his magic? Raw, open, too open? It was a strange feeling because Arthur desperately wanted to keep these feelings hidden (like a Prince was supposed to; Princes don't wear hearts on their sleeves for they're to be Kings), but there was an itch, an urge, to say them. For Merlin to finally know, for Arthur to finally say.
He shifted on the log, nudging Merlin's legs as he did so. They were resting almost limply now, as if all the energy Merlin contained was focused solely on what Arthur was saying, as if they were the most important words he'd ever heard.
"I've always known those things about you though," he said, returning to digging his nails under the bark of the log, to pressing the soles of his feet into the mud and to focusing on the hiss of the fire. To do anything else (to focus on Merlin) and he'd lose the already frail words.
(It was silly, really. He was supposed to be a brave Prince, scared of nothing and conqueror of all. Only, words were the backbone of fear, weren't they? To be afraid of words - with all the things they could imagine up, all the stories, all the lies, all the truths - was a more righteous fear than that of magic, or that of sorcerers, but Uther would never understand that. His father had always seen it as a weakness, not the display of emotions, but the fear they might bring. For Uther, fear was more corporeal, embodied in the flesh of anyone who even dared think of magic.)
"I just..." he broke off, digging furiously under the small gap the bark had let up. It eventually gave, suddenly, and his hand slipped a little, scraping against the bark. He curled his lip at the sting of pain and started when Merlin took his hand carefully.
"Look what you've done now," he muttered, head bent over their hands, inspecting the scrape. "What did the poor log ever do to you?"
Arthur smiled and Merlin looked up, curiously. It was almost as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle, or that he was wondering if Arthur would continue.
He would.
"I've never told you about it." He paused. "I never talk to anyone about stuff like this, as you know, but... it's come to the point where I have to tell you, hasn't it?" Merlin's hand gripped a little tighter, his gaze shifting as if he had no idea what Arthur was about to say.
"The truth," Arthur began, stopping to regain his stride. Why was something like this scarier than fighting bandits? Well, he thought, facing bandits was a given and he'd trained for it. Saying this to Merlin - with those horrifying, terrible words - and needing him.
"The truth is that..." he could still turn back, even now. "I... Need you," he grated out, looking out into the settled darkness. "I need you to... be by my side. I need you to tell me when I'm being a prat, I need you to be there when I need someone to tease." It was easier now, now that he'd found his stride and Merlin hadn't torn himself away in disgust.
"I need you to help me build my kingdom, to be there for Camelot, for her people - our people," he amended quickly, gritting his jaw. "So all the times you've said you're going to be there for me, and all the times you said that you'll help me... it's my turn now."
He grasped Merlin's hands, pulling him closer. Their noses were a fraction apart, eyes locked together as Arthur placed one hand on Merlin's shoulder, curled against his neck.
"I'm going to be there for you. When the world is against you and you need someone to talk to, when the pressure of Camelot is too much, when Gwaine gets drunk and forgets that he's not staying in Gaius' quarters and you need someone to kick him out, even." Merlin smiled at the last point, his free hand coming up to rest on Arthur's wrist at his shoulder.
"I'm going to be by your side, just as you're going to be by mine, and while I can't promise I won't be a prat, I trust you more than anyone else." From the widening of Merlin's eyes, Arthur guessed that he hadn't expected that. Trust was an important thing for Merlin, that much was clear. He'd spoken of his secrets, but never once begged for Arthur to simply just trust him. He'd asked him to, but never begged.
Not that he'd needed to ask in the first place. Arthur had always trusted him, though they'd had their hiccups.
"You've got more to learn from Gaius," Arthur carried on, against the frown that appeared on Merlin's brow at the mention of his teacher. "But when I'm King, I want you to sit by me and... advise me."
Merlin struggled with a smirk then and they both knew that what Arthur really meant was for Merlin to keep him from being too much of a prat, being someone who could turn into Uther (when he was on the case of magic), being someone who wouldn't care.
"So I need you. Just like you need me." He swallowed thickly. "What do you say?"
For a horrible, frightening moment, Arthur thought that Merlin would pull away, laugh and shake his head. His thoughts were unfounded though as Merlin smiled, dropping his eyes and nodding.
"I say whatever you need to hear," he said softly with a twitch of his lips. His words were sincere, with the subtle edge of mocking Arthur had come to expect and enjoy, that Arthur missed whenever he hadn't seen Merlin for the day.
He couldn't say when Merlin had become a needed fixture of his day. Perhaps it was when Uther had appointed him as his manservant, or perhaps after the tenth time they'd saved each other. Maybe it was when Merlin had faced bandits, dragons, beasts and humans all set to maim and kill, or when Merlin was ready to put his life on the line for his friends again and again.
Between Lady Helen (or at least the witch) throwing a knife at him and Merlin dropping all of his guard out here in the clearing, Arthur's life had consumed Merlin, making it impossible to live without him.
He was annoying, loud, idiotic and far too kind for his own good sometimes, but those weren't bad things. Never bad things when Merlin would storm into the room, blinding grin in place to turn the day upside down, never awful when he'd rouse Arthur with the same thing again and again, never evil despite his magic.
Neither had spoken for a while now, bathing in the dying embers of the fire and looking at each other, mapping out the flecks and blemishes in the other's face. The darkness smoothed away some of the lines, but the important marks (all the smiles, the memories of the good times) could be traced, small lines and wrinkles Merlin had earned.
As he had smoothed over the scars earlier, Arthur ran his thumb over Merlin's cheek, dipping ever so slightly into the crinkles by Merlin's eye. He stilled his hand, resting the bridge of his palm on Merlin's cheekbone, gaze softening as he noticed the look in Merlin's eyes.
It wasn't devotion. Devotion made it seem as if Arthur were some god, some ethereal being who should be worshipped, but he was only a man. Merlin wasn't devoted to him (not like the people of Camelot were, but he was a prince - future king - above all to them) and never would be, because he took Arthur as he came, saw him behind the crown and the false words. He knew that Arthur could feel fear and horror, that he could bleed like any other man or woman and that he could love and care, both for a kingdom and individuals.
There was respect, but Merlin had always held him in respect, especially when he (they, because Merlin had always been there too) had made the right decisions. Decisions such as giving townspeople back their money in hard times, sitting with a soldier who was gravely injured and had no one else on the battlefield, caring for his people in ways Uther had never quite managed.
It wasn't that Uther was a bad king - on the contrary he had brought peace to Camelot and continued to rule justly and fairly (for those without magic at least). He genuinely cared for his subjects and was willing to lend aid to those who needed it, or at least offer suggestions when it was impractical to send direct aid.
It was different for Arthur though. His father was half-blind, executing magic users and ignoring the issues closer to home. And Arthur had wanted to blame Morgana's decisions on Uther at first (because she could have had it all; a brother, a father, a kingdom to love just as her kin did, but instead she'd been left with nothing), yet he couldn't. Uther did what he'd believed right and so had Morgana.
That didn't mean what they believed was right was right for the rest of the world. In trying to eradicate magic, Uther had caused so much pain and suffering. He'd ripped families apart on a quest for revenge, turning into the very thing he loathed the most, turning into someone who did what had been done to him, albeit in a different form.
Merlin sighed, his breath fanning against Arthur's cheek. He smelt of fire smoke, rabbit and mud, much like Arthur himself probably did. There was no announcement of his magic, no distinct smell or odd body feature. Uther hadn't been good at finding sorcerers, he'd simply been lucky and picked on the weak and scared, moving to suspicion and deeper fear and hatred later on.
"Thank you," Arthur said, hoping that Merlin could see everything in his eyes, of the choices he'd made over the evening and the time that would dawn with his coronation. He wasn't thanking Merlin just for his reply, but for everything they'd said, everything that had passed between them.
Merlin's lips opened slightly and at their proximity, Arthur heard the curious little sound they made as they parted and he glanced down. A ghost of a smile appeared as the hand at Merlin's cheek jerked a little, against the other man, and Arthur met Merlin's eyes again, burning full of questions.
It wasn't Arthur, though, who negated the space between them, pressing the smallest of kisses to the corner of Arthur's jaw, at the juncture of his neck. It was barely even a touch of lips, but it sent a shock though the whole of Arthur's body, caused his heart to beat furiously as he glanced sideways to Merlin.
Merlin began marking a trail, leaving a ghosting touch from tiny kisses, along Arthur's jaw with a pause at his lips, turning his attention to the other side of Arthur. His nose left a smooth line, a constant compared to the peppered kisses, so Arthur waited, knowing that even when Merlin stopped this wouldn't be over. Between them, it was more than casual, simple touches. Every finger pad held a shared story, each kiss told of the truths they had shared. A million ways to repeat their promises, cast them in stone to last forever; their promises of each other, forever.
"You mean so much," Merlin whispered, resting his forehead against Arthur's temple, the angle awkward but not uncomfortable. Arthur could feel the flutter of eyelashes and the slight brush of lips on his cheek so he closed his eyes, wondering what he'd ever done to deserve this, to deserve someone such as Merlin.
.
but I'd understand that the world does what it does
.
| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten |