[fanfic] Why We Fight - Part Eleven + Epilogue (Merlin/Arthur)
Merlin was exhausted. After burying Mordred on the Isle, he’d figured out the teleporting spell Morgause had so casually used. It was simple and yet complex, a matter of opening a seam in reality to slip through to another in one’s destination in mind. He just had to make sure he didn’t leave any parts of himself behind. He used the spell to teleport himself back to the room Arthur had given him in Camelot.
Not caring about whatever might be happening elsewhere in the castle, Merlin dragged himself across the room and, after sloppily kicking off his shoes and shedding his jacket, crawled under the bedcovers. It was definitely the best bed he had ever slept in-guest chambers or not-and he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
“Where have you been, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked blearily up at Arthur’s face. He gave him a smile before turning his head back into his pillow.
“Kidnapped by Nimueh and Morgause,” he mumbled.
“What?!” Arthur’s hand was warm and heavy on his shoulder.
“It’s fine. They’re gone.” He would tell Arthur more later, but right now, all he wanted to was stay curled up in bed and sleep.
“And you’re all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Tired. Let me sleep,” he grumbled before rolling over onto his other side, away from Arthur.
He could feel himself just about to slip over the edge into sleep again when the bed dipped behind him. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him against a solid and very comfortable chest. Merlin hummed his contentment but didn’t do much else, letting himself drift back to sleep.
Merlin woke to the mouthwatering smell of warm food. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten last. Eyes still closed, he stretched, luxuriating in the feeling of waking in a soft and warm bed.
Then he remembered what had happened in the hours before he'd slept and opened his eyes, sitting up in bed. Once he'd blinked away the sleep from his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of Arthur lounging in a chair by the table. He had a...fond look on his face though Merlin was sure he wasn't meant to see it.
“Morning,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Arthur snorted.
“It's noon, Merlin,” he said with a smirk. He nodded to the table, where a tray of food rested. “A servant brought some food.”
“Oh. I was tired?” Merlin said with a sheepish smile. He clambered out of bed and sat himself down next to Arthur. On a closer look he saw that the tray held half a small roasted chicken, a plate of greens and potatoes and a bowl of steaming soup.
“Obviously. Eat.” Arthur nudged Merlin's knee with his own. Merlin didn’t have to be told twice; his last proper meal had been back in Stafford. “Where were you, Merlin?” Arthur asked after watching him eat for a few minutes.
Merlin sighed, wiping his fingers on a napkin by the tray. “Morgause took me to the Isle of the Blessed,” Merlin said, and when Arthur gave him a confused look, he explained, “It’s a place of magic. Nimueh used to oversee it before she was exiled. They wanted me to join them. When I refused, we fought.”
“And?” Arthur prompted.
“They’re dead.” Merlin paused and added, “Mordred is too…”
“Did you….?”
“No,” Merlin said with a short humorless laugh, “he saved me.” He ran a hand over his face. “He gave his life to save mine.”
Arthur gave his shoulder a squeeze, seeming to understand Merlin’s desire for no condolences, his uncertainty as to how to feel. Merlin tried not to think about it; it seemed he’d never truly understand the way Mordred had thought. He didn’t know if he wanted to. He decided to change topic.
“So the priestesses won’t be a problem now, but there are still the Northumbrians. What did I miss?” he asked.
“M y father met with the council,” Arthur said, looking resigned. The beginnings of a frown pulled at the corner of his lips. “We’re going to war with Northumbria.”
Merlin grimaced. Thought it came as no surprise considering what Northumbria had been plotting, he’d always disliked the thought of war, even before Carmarthen’s fall. Now, that dislike was reinforced with his own memories of ragged battlefield and bloodied bodies.
“You’ll be fighting then?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. And it meant he would follow Arthur onto the battlefield too.
Arthur nodded and said, “I’m to help lead the army.” He didn’t sound too pleased about it, and it was a testament, if anything was, as to the changes in Arthur, because when Merlin had just started serving him, he had no doubt Arthur would have been proud and enthusiastic at the prospect. “I’ll be going back to the council room soon. Father’s turned it into a war room. We’re to move out to battle before the month’s end.” Arthur shook his head. “Father is furious-at the sorcerers working with Northumbria. If it wasn’t for what you’ve done to help me, I think he might have actually outlawed magic.
“Oh…” Merlin wondered what the king would do once Northumbria was defeated, how the king would treat the sorcerers.
“I won’t let what happened to Carmarthen-what happened to you-happen to others, even if they were planning for world domination. I’ll find a way to stop the Rites, like I promised, Merlin.”
Merlin couldn’t help but give him a smile at that.
“Here, I have a surprise for you,” Arthur suddenly said, breaking into a grin. Merlin watched as Arthur shuffled through a sheaf of parchment on the table that Merlin hadn't noticed earlier. Arthur finally pulled out a sheet and slid it across the table to him.
Merlin read it, and then read it again. And then read it again.
By the decree of King Uther Pendragon of Camelot,
The lands to the southwest of Camelot, formerly known as Carmarthen, have hereby been returned to the people of Carmarthen as thanks for services rendered to the crown and kingdom by Freeman Merlin, son of Balinor and Hunith.
“My mother helped me convince him,” Arthur managed to say before Merlin practically threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck. Arthur chuckled and remarked, “I keep my promises, Merlin.”
“I know. Thank you.” Merlin gave him a firm kiss on the lips. He’d meant for it to be quick, but when he moved to pull away, Arthur grabbed onto his hips, holding him in place. And Merlin chose to forget about Carmarthen, about war, about anything but Arthur for the next few minutes.
Two days later, Merlin stood on the steps to the castle shortly after dawn, Will already down in the courtyard with their two horses loaded with goods. Lancelot and Gwen had said their goodbyes, and it was just Arthur left standing next to him, though they’d already said more private goodbyes to each other earlier. “You’ll be back?” Arthur asked, a hand clamped tightly around Merlin’s arm. Merlin let out an exasperated sigh that was more fondness than impatience, because, really, they’d discussed this several times before.
“In ten days, once I help my people get settled,” Merlin reminded him. Arthur nodded curtly. “Trust me, Arthur, when I get back, you’ll never get rid of me.”
Arthur snorted. “Gods have mercy on me,” he said dryly but gave him a fond smile Merlin was only just starting to get used to seeing.
“Here, hold out your hand.” Arthur gave him a questioning look but held out a hand anyways. Merlin just smiled before whispering a spell under his breath. A small ball of fire sprung into his own hand before twisting itself into a small dragon and leaping onto Arthur’s open palm. To his credit, Arthur didn’t even flinch, instead staring at the dragon-shaped fire. The fire, under Merlin’s golden-eyed stare, turned into smoke before condensing and hardening. Soon, in its place was a dragon figurine made of glass. Merlin touched the figurine with a finger and recited a more complicated spell. “It’ll glow when I’m about to return,” Merlin explained with a shrug.
Arthur let out a short bark of laughter and pocketed the glass dragon. “I’ll be sure not to lose it them.”
“Oi! We leaving sometime before the sun sets?” Will called, and Arthur shot at glare in his direction.
“I better go. I’ll see you soon, Arthur.” Merlin stuck out his hand to shake Arthur’s, though he really wished he could hug him instead.
Arthur nodded and abruptly pulled Merlin into a one-armed embrace. He let go of Merlin shortly and squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “Goodbye, Merlin. Have a safe journey.”
Merlin nodded before descending the last of the steps. Will was grumbling at him when he reached him. When they mounted their horses and urged them into motion, it wasn’t until they’re nearly at the gates that Merlin looked back. Arthur still stood on the steps, the red of his cape bright against the white stone steps and the gold of his hair shining even under the early morning sun. Merlin gave him a wave before turning back around, focusing on the road ahead.
Ten days to help his people re-settle into Carmarthen. Ten days, and he’d be back by Arthur’s side. He wondered if he should be worried that he wished to be in Camelot with Arthur more than he wished to be in Carmarthen. But Arthur was quickly becoming who Merlin’s life focused on, who Merlin seemed to now orbit around, and Merlin didn’t really feel the need to change that anytime soon.
Epilogue
With only the travel bag on his back and no travelling companions, Merlin decided to save himself the three days it’d take him to travel by horse and instead simply teleport back to Camelot. After saying his goodbyes, Merlin took a deep breath, and then stepped forward, out of Carmarthen and into Arthur’s chambers. He wondered if it was a tad presumptuous of himself, but after the first night in Camelot, he’d spent the others solely in Arthur’s. And over the past week, he’d found himself missing Arthur more than he’d expected, the ache to be near him stronger than any he’d felt when separated from Morgana, and his magic had felt it too, if the increasingly impatient characteristic it had taken on as the days away from Camelot had passed was any indication. With a sigh, he let his travel bag plop down on the floor.
Suddenly, he was being hugged from behind. He knew, of course, who it was immediately, and leaned back against Arthur, let him carry the brunt of his weight. It felt good, letting go. In Carmarthen, his people often gaped at him, and Merlin was forced to act confident and strong, to live up to their expectations as Emrys. But he wasn’t a natural-born leader, and he’d spent the last thirteen years as a slave. Many of the Carmarthians had thought he’d ruled over them; he was still reveling over the thought that he was free…and having what amounted to a secret love affair with the prince of Camelot-who was currently close to squeezing the life from him.
“Good to see you too, sire,” Merlin remarked. “I would like to breathe though.”
With a huff, Arthur loosed his hold around Merlin before saying, “Did you get everything settled?” His breath was warm over Merlin’s ear. And yes, Merlin was still unused to intimacy after so long and he couldn’t help the small hitch in his own breathing. Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but he was fairly certain the prince was looking smug. Arthur, Merlin had discovered, was very tactile, and he knew exactly how much that threw Merlin off-kilter.
“Enough,” Merlin said, determined to focus on his words. “Having magic helps.”
“I’m sure it would. Morgana?” Arthur mumbled, and Merlin shivered at the feeling of Arthur’s lips brushing against the back of his neck.
“Gaius told me she fled, after I sent the message that the priestesses and Sigan were dead…and Mordred.”
“Do we have to worry about her?”
“Not for now-at least, I hoped n-” Merlin realized belatedly that Arthur had slipped a hand underneath his tunic, sword-callous fingers running over his belly. Merlin gasped at the shock of heat it elicited shooting through his body, echoed by his magic, and grabbed Arthur’s hand, stilling it. “You’re not making it very easy for me to talk, Arthur.” He took the chance to turn around and finally look at Arthur.
Arthur looked a little worn around the edges, light smudges of darkness under his eyes and hair more mussed than usual, all indications that he’d probably been sleeping as well as Merlin had been. But regardless, Arthur looked good and well enough, eyes bright and skin warm as Merlin reached up and touched his cheek.
“What makes you think I’m trying to make you talk?”
Arthur gave him that slightly ridiculous, suggestive smile of him before leaning in and claiming Merlin’s mouth. Merlin opened his mouth with little urging, and immediately, Arthur’s tongue was inside, rubbing against his own. He groaned, letting his arms wind around Arthur’s neck. Instantly, Arthur was crowding him backwards towards the bed. Merlin grinned and obliged him. When they fall back onto the bed covers, their clothes had melted away with a flash of gold.
Later, when they were both cleaned up and dressed to step into society again, they found themselves holding each other again, Merlin resting his head on Arthur’s right shoulder.
“Would it be horrible of me to say I like this on your face?” Arthur murmured, fingers brushing over the dragon on Merlin’s left cheekbone. Merlin had stopped hiding the brand after the first day in Carmarthen, when he’d felt the need to remind his people that he wasn’t just a magical figure from prophecy. “It tells the world that you’re mine.”
Merlin pulled back slightly and smacked Arthur’s arm.
“You horrible prat!”
He tried to look affronted, but knew, with the smile beginning at the corner of his lips, that he was failing miserably. With a smug grin, Arthur tightened his arms around Merlin’s waist before catching Merlin’s bottom lip between his own. Merlin gave him a hum of appreciation before deepening the kiss, eager even after the two hours they’d just spent in bed. Arthur matched his enthusiasm, hands migrating up from Merlin’s waist to cradle the back of his skull and comb through his hair.
When they separated several minutes later, more than a little disheveled, more than a little breathless, Merlin whispered into the prince’s ear, “I like it too.”
FIN
Not caring about whatever might be happening elsewhere in the castle, Merlin dragged himself across the room and, after sloppily kicking off his shoes and shedding his jacket, crawled under the bedcovers. It was definitely the best bed he had ever slept in-guest chambers or not-and he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
“Where have you been, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked blearily up at Arthur’s face. He gave him a smile before turning his head back into his pillow.
“Kidnapped by Nimueh and Morgause,” he mumbled.
“What?!” Arthur’s hand was warm and heavy on his shoulder.
“It’s fine. They’re gone.” He would tell Arthur more later, but right now, all he wanted to was stay curled up in bed and sleep.
“And you’re all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Tired. Let me sleep,” he grumbled before rolling over onto his other side, away from Arthur.
He could feel himself just about to slip over the edge into sleep again when the bed dipped behind him. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him against a solid and very comfortable chest. Merlin hummed his contentment but didn’t do much else, letting himself drift back to sleep.
Merlin woke to the mouthwatering smell of warm food. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten last. Eyes still closed, he stretched, luxuriating in the feeling of waking in a soft and warm bed.
Then he remembered what had happened in the hours before he'd slept and opened his eyes, sitting up in bed. Once he'd blinked away the sleep from his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of Arthur lounging in a chair by the table. He had a...fond look on his face though Merlin was sure he wasn't meant to see it.
“Morning,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Arthur snorted.
“It's noon, Merlin,” he said with a smirk. He nodded to the table, where a tray of food rested. “A servant brought some food.”
“Oh. I was tired?” Merlin said with a sheepish smile. He clambered out of bed and sat himself down next to Arthur. On a closer look he saw that the tray held half a small roasted chicken, a plate of greens and potatoes and a bowl of steaming soup.
“Obviously. Eat.” Arthur nudged Merlin's knee with his own. Merlin didn’t have to be told twice; his last proper meal had been back in Stafford. “Where were you, Merlin?” Arthur asked after watching him eat for a few minutes.
Merlin sighed, wiping his fingers on a napkin by the tray. “Morgause took me to the Isle of the Blessed,” Merlin said, and when Arthur gave him a confused look, he explained, “It’s a place of magic. Nimueh used to oversee it before she was exiled. They wanted me to join them. When I refused, we fought.”
“And?” Arthur prompted.
“They’re dead.” Merlin paused and added, “Mordred is too…”
“Did you….?”
“No,” Merlin said with a short humorless laugh, “he saved me.” He ran a hand over his face. “He gave his life to save mine.”
Arthur gave his shoulder a squeeze, seeming to understand Merlin’s desire for no condolences, his uncertainty as to how to feel. Merlin tried not to think about it; it seemed he’d never truly understand the way Mordred had thought. He didn’t know if he wanted to. He decided to change topic.
“So the priestesses won’t be a problem now, but there are still the Northumbrians. What did I miss?” he asked.
“M y father met with the council,” Arthur said, looking resigned. The beginnings of a frown pulled at the corner of his lips. “We’re going to war with Northumbria.”
Merlin grimaced. Thought it came as no surprise considering what Northumbria had been plotting, he’d always disliked the thought of war, even before Carmarthen’s fall. Now, that dislike was reinforced with his own memories of ragged battlefield and bloodied bodies.
“You’ll be fighting then?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. And it meant he would follow Arthur onto the battlefield too.
Arthur nodded and said, “I’m to help lead the army.” He didn’t sound too pleased about it, and it was a testament, if anything was, as to the changes in Arthur, because when Merlin had just started serving him, he had no doubt Arthur would have been proud and enthusiastic at the prospect. “I’ll be going back to the council room soon. Father’s turned it into a war room. We’re to move out to battle before the month’s end.” Arthur shook his head. “Father is furious-at the sorcerers working with Northumbria. If it wasn’t for what you’ve done to help me, I think he might have actually outlawed magic.
“Oh…” Merlin wondered what the king would do once Northumbria was defeated, how the king would treat the sorcerers.
“I won’t let what happened to Carmarthen-what happened to you-happen to others, even if they were planning for world domination. I’ll find a way to stop the Rites, like I promised, Merlin.”
Merlin couldn’t help but give him a smile at that.
“Here, I have a surprise for you,” Arthur suddenly said, breaking into a grin. Merlin watched as Arthur shuffled through a sheaf of parchment on the table that Merlin hadn't noticed earlier. Arthur finally pulled out a sheet and slid it across the table to him.
Merlin read it, and then read it again. And then read it again.
By the decree of King Uther Pendragon of Camelot,
The lands to the southwest of Camelot, formerly known as Carmarthen, have hereby been returned to the people of Carmarthen as thanks for services rendered to the crown and kingdom by Freeman Merlin, son of Balinor and Hunith.
“My mother helped me convince him,” Arthur managed to say before Merlin practically threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck. Arthur chuckled and remarked, “I keep my promises, Merlin.”
“I know. Thank you.” Merlin gave him a firm kiss on the lips. He’d meant for it to be quick, but when he moved to pull away, Arthur grabbed onto his hips, holding him in place. And Merlin chose to forget about Carmarthen, about war, about anything but Arthur for the next few minutes.
Two days later, Merlin stood on the steps to the castle shortly after dawn, Will already down in the courtyard with their two horses loaded with goods. Lancelot and Gwen had said their goodbyes, and it was just Arthur left standing next to him, though they’d already said more private goodbyes to each other earlier. “You’ll be back?” Arthur asked, a hand clamped tightly around Merlin’s arm. Merlin let out an exasperated sigh that was more fondness than impatience, because, really, they’d discussed this several times before.
“In ten days, once I help my people get settled,” Merlin reminded him. Arthur nodded curtly. “Trust me, Arthur, when I get back, you’ll never get rid of me.”
Arthur snorted. “Gods have mercy on me,” he said dryly but gave him a fond smile Merlin was only just starting to get used to seeing.
“Here, hold out your hand.” Arthur gave him a questioning look but held out a hand anyways. Merlin just smiled before whispering a spell under his breath. A small ball of fire sprung into his own hand before twisting itself into a small dragon and leaping onto Arthur’s open palm. To his credit, Arthur didn’t even flinch, instead staring at the dragon-shaped fire. The fire, under Merlin’s golden-eyed stare, turned into smoke before condensing and hardening. Soon, in its place was a dragon figurine made of glass. Merlin touched the figurine with a finger and recited a more complicated spell. “It’ll glow when I’m about to return,” Merlin explained with a shrug.
Arthur let out a short bark of laughter and pocketed the glass dragon. “I’ll be sure not to lose it them.”
“Oi! We leaving sometime before the sun sets?” Will called, and Arthur shot at glare in his direction.
“I better go. I’ll see you soon, Arthur.” Merlin stuck out his hand to shake Arthur’s, though he really wished he could hug him instead.
Arthur nodded and abruptly pulled Merlin into a one-armed embrace. He let go of Merlin shortly and squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “Goodbye, Merlin. Have a safe journey.”
Merlin nodded before descending the last of the steps. Will was grumbling at him when he reached him. When they mounted their horses and urged them into motion, it wasn’t until they’re nearly at the gates that Merlin looked back. Arthur still stood on the steps, the red of his cape bright against the white stone steps and the gold of his hair shining even under the early morning sun. Merlin gave him a wave before turning back around, focusing on the road ahead.
Ten days to help his people re-settle into Carmarthen. Ten days, and he’d be back by Arthur’s side. He wondered if he should be worried that he wished to be in Camelot with Arthur more than he wished to be in Carmarthen. But Arthur was quickly becoming who Merlin’s life focused on, who Merlin seemed to now orbit around, and Merlin didn’t really feel the need to change that anytime soon.
Epilogue
With only the travel bag on his back and no travelling companions, Merlin decided to save himself the three days it’d take him to travel by horse and instead simply teleport back to Camelot. After saying his goodbyes, Merlin took a deep breath, and then stepped forward, out of Carmarthen and into Arthur’s chambers. He wondered if it was a tad presumptuous of himself, but after the first night in Camelot, he’d spent the others solely in Arthur’s. And over the past week, he’d found himself missing Arthur more than he’d expected, the ache to be near him stronger than any he’d felt when separated from Morgana, and his magic had felt it too, if the increasingly impatient characteristic it had taken on as the days away from Camelot had passed was any indication. With a sigh, he let his travel bag plop down on the floor.
Suddenly, he was being hugged from behind. He knew, of course, who it was immediately, and leaned back against Arthur, let him carry the brunt of his weight. It felt good, letting go. In Carmarthen, his people often gaped at him, and Merlin was forced to act confident and strong, to live up to their expectations as Emrys. But he wasn’t a natural-born leader, and he’d spent the last thirteen years as a slave. Many of the Carmarthians had thought he’d ruled over them; he was still reveling over the thought that he was free…and having what amounted to a secret love affair with the prince of Camelot-who was currently close to squeezing the life from him.
“Good to see you too, sire,” Merlin remarked. “I would like to breathe though.”
With a huff, Arthur loosed his hold around Merlin before saying, “Did you get everything settled?” His breath was warm over Merlin’s ear. And yes, Merlin was still unused to intimacy after so long and he couldn’t help the small hitch in his own breathing. Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but he was fairly certain the prince was looking smug. Arthur, Merlin had discovered, was very tactile, and he knew exactly how much that threw Merlin off-kilter.
“Enough,” Merlin said, determined to focus on his words. “Having magic helps.”
“I’m sure it would. Morgana?” Arthur mumbled, and Merlin shivered at the feeling of Arthur’s lips brushing against the back of his neck.
“Gaius told me she fled, after I sent the message that the priestesses and Sigan were dead…and Mordred.”
“Do we have to worry about her?”
“Not for now-at least, I hoped n-” Merlin realized belatedly that Arthur had slipped a hand underneath his tunic, sword-callous fingers running over his belly. Merlin gasped at the shock of heat it elicited shooting through his body, echoed by his magic, and grabbed Arthur’s hand, stilling it. “You’re not making it very easy for me to talk, Arthur.” He took the chance to turn around and finally look at Arthur.
Arthur looked a little worn around the edges, light smudges of darkness under his eyes and hair more mussed than usual, all indications that he’d probably been sleeping as well as Merlin had been. But regardless, Arthur looked good and well enough, eyes bright and skin warm as Merlin reached up and touched his cheek.
“What makes you think I’m trying to make you talk?”
Arthur gave him that slightly ridiculous, suggestive smile of him before leaning in and claiming Merlin’s mouth. Merlin opened his mouth with little urging, and immediately, Arthur’s tongue was inside, rubbing against his own. He groaned, letting his arms wind around Arthur’s neck. Instantly, Arthur was crowding him backwards towards the bed. Merlin grinned and obliged him. When they fall back onto the bed covers, their clothes had melted away with a flash of gold.
Later, when they were both cleaned up and dressed to step into society again, they found themselves holding each other again, Merlin resting his head on Arthur’s right shoulder.
“Would it be horrible of me to say I like this on your face?” Arthur murmured, fingers brushing over the dragon on Merlin’s left cheekbone. Merlin had stopped hiding the brand after the first day in Carmarthen, when he’d felt the need to remind his people that he wasn’t just a magical figure from prophecy. “It tells the world that you’re mine.”
Merlin pulled back slightly and smacked Arthur’s arm.
“You horrible prat!”
He tried to look affronted, but knew, with the smile beginning at the corner of his lips, that he was failing miserably. With a smug grin, Arthur tightened his arms around Merlin’s waist before catching Merlin’s bottom lip between his own. Merlin gave him a hum of appreciation before deepening the kiss, eager even after the two hours they’d just spent in bed. Arthur matched his enthusiasm, hands migrating up from Merlin’s waist to cradle the back of his skull and comb through his hair.
When they separated several minutes later, more than a little disheveled, more than a little breathless, Merlin whispered into the prince’s ear, “I like it too.”
FIN