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Arthur caught the light in the sky before he felt the shuddering it caused in the earth, the whole of Camelot would have, but only those in the castle were privy to its meaning. He was quick to move, as were those of his closest knights, and Gwaine was the first by his side as they hurried. Arthur recognised the stony expression on his knight, assuming it mirrored his own as he watched his step.
“I saw him ride out with Aldwin this morning,” Gwaine’s voice vibrated as they were quick down the stairs, “didn’t get a chance to ask why.”
“He told me they would be practicing spells,” Arthur huffed as they reached the door, catching Leon ready and waiting.
“Sire,” the knight nodded, either ignoring the surprise at his readiness or not catching it in their haste. “the light was not far,” they walked towards the ready horses as Leon was speaking, “we can reach him soon enough.”
They found both Merlin and Aldwin on an open plain out of the way, the perfect place for practice away from prying eyes that had yet to fully accept the return of sorcery. Merlin was shaking; Arthur was kneeling at his side instantly, almost falling from his horse before his hands found the warlock’s breath. As soon as he did he felt his own escape him, his hands moving just to touch the man lying on the ground, his colour blending with the white sky.
“Dead,” a knight shouted from behind, across the field. In a moment of fear Arthur blinked, the thought that he was referring to Merlin clutching at his heart, but no… he can’t. Then Merlin shivered in his arms again, and Arthur was reminded that there were two on that field, the other body belonging to Aldwin. The young sorcerer had joined Merlin as an apprentice months before; Arthur never truly cared for him, but Merlin always spoke fondly of the boy, so Arthur spared one glance over after the knight had pronounced him.
He felt Merlin’s fingers clutching at him, nails trying to break through armour, and his eyes were back to now open ones as dull as the pale winter grass. Arthur tried to settle him as he gasped.
“Aldwin,” Merlin tried.
Arthur felt awful, but he shook his head, “he’s dead.”
Merlin blinked, swallowed, and Arthur was prepared to battle him to rest again before he shook his head, “no. I know.” He gasped, “I did it.”
Arthur blinked, pulling back fractionally, “Merlin-”
“He- he attacked me.” He explained, and Arthur felt his heart go cold for the second time as those nails dug into him. “We were practicing, I thought we were…” he trailed off, flagging, and Arthur tried to grip him, to calm him. “But then I could see, I saw – he was aiming to kill me, he said-”
“Merlin,” Arthur found his voice, unable to bear listening to the betrayal through the pained gasps of the warlock. “Merlin, it’s alright, be calm.” Before there was any time for argument, he took a look around, spotting just the knight he needed after a second, “Gwaine!” the man was already coming over, had only been waiting for the signal, “help me.” Arthur’s gaze switched back to Merlin, going limp in his arms, “we need to get him back to Gaius.”
Arthur could be impatient at the best of times. At the worst… well, he got under people’s feet. He did try his best, but Gaius continued to huff when his feet unconsciously stepped closer to the body lying on the bed; the tremors that had begun to wrack Merlin’s body on their mercifully short journey back were still pulsing through his frame that it was almost hard to watch as Gaius woke him to find out which spell had been cast against him, but Arthur could not take his eyes away for a moment.
The king bit a nail too hard and he frowned, dropping his hand but bearing it no mind as he tried to watch Gaius and keep an eye on Merlin at the same time. He did not register asking the only full sentence he could form before Gaius was answering him, “yes, Sire, he will recover.”
Arthur already knew that was the answer, because he had already asked, but Gaius was quiet about it and the king let the sigh of relief leave him as if it had been the first time.
“His magic is stronger than Aldwin’s,” Gaius continued, “but, of course, Merlin has been training him.”
Yes, a thought Arthur was trying not to think about just yet. “He must have known Merlin was stronger, why would he even try?”
“I cannot say,” Gaius paused his administrations to look to Arthur, “I can only surmise that there must have been some urgency, otherwise he might have waited for a more opportune moment.”
Another thought that had crossed Arthur’s mind that he had resolutely ignored. He simply grimaced, “he caught him by surprise.”
Gaius hummed, “I imagine that is why Merlin was unable to block the spell. He will recover, as I said, but his magic is weak.” He stepped closer to the king, “the magic that hit him was nothing as powerful as that which Merlin can wield, but it was still strong; he would have exhausted a lot of his energy defending himself, as well as sending out the signal.” Gaius turned his attentions back to the bed, where the tremors were cooling, and Arthur followed his line of sight. “Add that with all the work he does, and right now his magic is too weak to heal him.”
“I’ve noticed now just how much he does.” Arthur whispered.
Gaius nodded along, “I’ve told him to rest a thousand times, but he takes his new position very seriously, especially now, only a year since the ban on magic was lifted.”
“I understand,” Arthur tried, feeling the guilt for not doing something sooner. “I’ll make sure he rests.”
And those old eyes were back on him, rounded as he spoke as a guardian, “you are not to blame for this, Arthur, I know how you care for him.”
Another time and he might have tried to deny it with a joke, but most in the castle were already aware of their relationship. His lips curled up fractionally as he nodded, feeling comforted by the reassurance.
A groan from the bed grabbed both of their attentions, and Arthur’s brief smile morphed into his most imploring, pitying looks; the physician rolled his eyes, “you may sit with him now.” He made a point to sound exasperated, but Arthur had known him far too long that he could hear the fondness in his words. “I’ve done all I can for now, he needs rest.”
Arthur dropped his head as he sat by Merlin quickly, reaching out for a hand to stroke as his eyes trailed up from the tips of the warlock’s fingers to his face which continued to contort in pain. “Is there nothing more you can give him?” he asked, though he knew the answer to that, too.
“I am afraid not, Sire.” The king felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, “he will rest easy soon, we must give him time.”
Arthur shifted in his seat, prepared to wait however long it would take.
People came and went, though fewer than once would have, some still yet to accept Merlin for who he was. Arthur saw the power Merlin could wield and sometimes almost understood their anxieties, but he hoped they would come around to realise he was still the same man.
Gwen had brought some food with her when she visited late that evening, handing it to Arthur whilst her other hand found his shoulder, though her eyes were on the warlock. The king mumbled his thanks before turning his own attention back to Merlin, worry lines setting in permanently as he still waited for a positive sign.
“How is he?”
Arthur tilted his head, “more peaceful than before,” was all the reassurance he could offer; he was happy to remain in silence as she stood by his side. It was times like these he truly appreciated her support, and he was glad to have her friendship as well as her counsel.
He picked at the meal she had brought him, the plate as full as it could get, not wanting to appear ungrateful despite his lack of appetite.
“You don’t have to eat it all.” She must have been watching him. “But don’t starve yourself.”
He looked up to catch her half-stern stare and he did not want to disappoint, so he picked up the smallest piece to make some effort.
The king rested his elbow on the arm once he had finished with his small meal, ignoring Gwen assessing the plate. Bringing a hand up to his chin he sighed in a helpless sort of way, his eyes lost themselves before he said, “I love him, Gwen.” He had admitted it so many times before that now it easily rolled off his tongue, but never had it sounded so morose. The hand on his shoulder stroked him in a soothing motion. “I can’t lose him.”
He heard Gwen let out her own breath before she knelt, brushing her dress out of the way as she looked up to face him with kind brown eyes. “You won’t. Gaius has reassured us he will make a full recovery, no matter how long it takes.”
“No,” Arthur shook his head, waving a hand dismissively as he looked up at nothing in particular, anywhere but her gaze. “No, it’s not that I worry about so much. I know he’ll recover physically, but…” he swallowed, blinking.
Gwen’s hand was on his, he felt the skin brush against it, clutching at his fingers as desperately as he had held Merlin’s. He looked down at her, eyes tired and brimming with what he did not want to acknowledge. “What is it, Arthur?”
He blinked again, finding the words. “Aldwin did this.”
Gwen nodded politely, as if it was not completely vague.
“I just…” he ducked his head, “I don’t know how Merlin will react, when he wakes.”
“What do you mean?” she frowned, searching him for answers before he could speak.
He looked her in the eyes as he settled on the words, “I’m sure you’ve noticed Merlin has changed over the past few years. Less and less I see him open up to people, to anyone.”
Gwen hummed, “yes, I’ve noticed.” Her eyes slid over to the warlock, lying so quietly and so still that he had for the moment lost his ability to distrust. “I worry about him, but he tells me little anymore.”
“Sometimes he’ll confide in me, but others,” he sighed, shaking his head helplessly. “I think he’s so used to keeping secrets that he doesn’t know how to tell the truth, sometimes.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I understood why he kept the magic from me, but I don’t think he’s realised how far we’ve moved on since then.”
“I know he trusts you, Arthur, more than anyone.”
“I know.” Arthur paused, stretching his neck to stare at the ceiling, “but he’s still so worried. It is bad enough that some have still not accepted who he is, and now I worry what this has done to him – he was finally coming back to himself, I thought, and now…”
“He will again, I am sure of it.” Then she held her head high, “you just need to find a way to get through to him.” She decided, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Arthur looked at her with puzzlement and a hint of admiration as she finished, “we all will, even if it takes time.” She smiled resolutely; Arthur knew her well enough to see the frailty of it, but he knew she was right, and he knew she would stand by her word.
When Merlin woke on the second day, it was barely anything. It was so brief, in fact, that Arthur wondered if he had simply dreamt those pale blues catching his own tired eyes, though he was certain he felt Merlin’s fingers wrap into his hand when the lids slipped closed.
The second time, on the second night, was longer; long enough for Arthur to know it was not a dream. It was enough time for Arthur to whisper Merlin’s name, but not quite long enough for any focus to replace the dazed look in the warlock’s eyes. The king sighed, but sunk into his seat and waited.
The third and longest time, Arthur was asleep. Fortunately, it was not a deep enough sleep for him to miss the weak prodding of fingers in his hand, or the croaked call of his name. Any other time and he would have been irritated for the interruption of his sleep, but on this occasion, he was happy to make an exception, sitting up straight with his hair askew.
“Merlin,” he breathed a smile, leaning forwards. Merlin tried to mirror the expression, but there was pain still etched in his features.
“Here,” Gaius’ voice made Arthur jump, and Merlin did smile then as the physician handed him a drink. Arthur allowed it, grateful for the sight.
Merlin’s hands were shaking too much, and Arthur knew what was going to happen. He reached out a hand instantly and held the warlock’s steady, resulting only in a small spill. Merlin’s eyes travelled very slowly from their hands to Arthur’s eyes, but when they finally settled Arthur nodded, lifting the cup gently to his partner’s lips.
Once he had had a few cooling sips, Merlin pulled away and Arthur set the cup down quietly as Gaius asked, “how do you feel?”
Merlin blinked a few times and Arthur wondered just how awake he really was, before he finally croaked, “like I ran into a wall.” He swallowed, “twice.” He huffed a breath that was as close to a laugh as he was likely to get and smiled that grin that reached his eyes even with the little energy he possessed.
Arthur found his own lifting, as if the warmth of the sunshine had just hit him, though he could not begin to describe the true feeling of it, of being granted that smile he had lost for three days. The smile that meant Merlin was still there.
“Only you would be so clumsy,” he quipped after his own delay.
“Do you remember anything?” Gaius asked, not too forcefully; Arthur imagined Gaius too noticed the lids at half-mast, just waiting for the order to fall.
“Hm?” Merlin smacked his lips together dozily, tilting his head to Gaius with so little effort he missed the man almost completely, but his eyes still narrowed in thought. “I can’t…” he yawned, “my magic… feels…” he blinked for a second too long, “I don’t know.” He finally settled, closing his eyes for good as he burrowed his head into the pillow.
Arthur’s smile was soft and sad as he stroked his thumb across the back of Merlin’s hand in the same rhythm of the past few days.
“Rest,” Gaius whispered, giving the command whilst putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder for a moment. Merlin leaned into the touch with a sigh, appearing more peaceful than he had since their return. Maybe even before then, Arthur wondered. Unfortunately, that peace was fleeting.
Arthur woke with a start, sitting almost straight as the sheets fell off his chest and his heart banged against it from the inside. He swallowed as he breathed, focusing his eyes as his mind supplied the answer to the question he did not need to ask after three days of the same. His eyes traced the old scars on Merlin’s back, following up the body one after the other, some fainter than others that might never fully disappear. The warlock’s back was shaking, his body moving in and out as he was unable to catch his breath as quickly as Arthur had, although he would be trying to do just that so Arthur might not notice. As every morning had gone. The king wondered if Merlin even realised he had woken with him.
When Merlin had woken properly on the fourth day of his return home, seeming much more aware, Arthur had made the offer to move him to back to his chambers which had, he assured him, been neatened. Of course, he had given orders for nothing of importance to be touched, even if it was thrown somewhere ridiculous, as Merlin often left such lying around, but the bed had at least been made.
The offer had only met with a weak hand grasping his arm and a firm, “no.” Arthur had been stared down with an energy the ill man did not have, almost being stunned into silence. He found enough of his voice to offer instead his own room, since Merlin spent most of his nights there anyway; the warlock agreed, neither appearing put off by the prospect nor happy about it.
At first, Arthur had willed himself to simply put it all down to Merlin’s condition; his silence, his refusal to look at anything but the ceiling all day, his sudden wakes. As he called out Merlin’s name this morning, though, he heard the lie of normality dress his concern. He could not ignore the way his heart gave in when Merlin tensed at his voice, and he admitted he already knew there were issues that had to be faced.
“Merlin?” he tried again, hesitant to reach a hand out. The first morning in Arthur’s rooms they had woken in the same way and Arthur had reached a hand out, but Merlin had moved away from the touch; Arthur could not take the rejection again, or face what it meant, and so he kept his hand away, but his eyes looked on.
“I’m fine.” The words came right on cue, in that same, emotionless, empty tone Merlin had taken to speaking in since he had come around.
Arthur sighed, “this is the third time, Merlin.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “You are not fine.”
The warlock kept silent for a while, but his shaking had stopped, and eventually he simply threw himself back into bed. Arthur watched without surprise as he closed his eyes, draping an arm over them lazily, just in case Arthur might just be able to catch a glimpse of the vulnerability he used to wear on his sleeve.
“It was another nightmare, wasn’t it?” he tried to sound sympathetic, rather than confrontational, but when he got nothing it was hard to sit still. “Do you want to talk about it?” desperation crept into his voice as he stared down at this stranger lying beside him.
“No,” he was granted a grunt.
Arthur sighed a breath filled less with frustration and more with hopelessness as he thought about Gwen’s words nights ago.
“How are you physically?”
“No better than yesterday,” he mumbled at least. “My head hurts, my body’s aching, but my magic feels less weak.”
Arthur was grateful Merlin at least knew now not to hide this sort of thing, perhaps because he knew his appearance gave him away anyway.
I’m worried about you, Arthur wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat and he tried to swallow them down. He wished he could just fall beside Merlin in the hopes the closeness might encourage him to speak, as it once had. It was either that, or he would wake up from this awful dream himself.
It had been bad enough finding Merlin lying on the field, wondering if he would die as he trembled in Arthur’s arms on the way back to Camelot, waiting for him to wake and reassure him he was alright. Then Merlin had woken, but he had been quiet, and Arthur was still missing the chatting fool he knew so well.
The most Merlin said was to relay the details of what had transpired between him and Aldwin, though even that he was reluctant to divulge in front of Arthur, still not used to being able to share such secrets. When he had told them, it was short and to the point, without the usual… Merlin.
The physician and Arthur had all too hopefully put it down to tiredness, but Arthur saw his fears in Gaius’ old eyes. Those fears were only confirmed as the days passed by and the chatter Merlin was well known for seemed to have been eradicated by this empty shell. Arthur was wracking his brains to figure a way to see that smile again, but every day brought the same problem.
A knock on the door brought him from his reverie, and he called for his servant to enter to a sight George was now used to as much as Arthur was.
“Breakfast, Sire.” George walked perfectly with the tray in his hands, knowing by now to just place it on the table before he should take his leave.
Arthur nodded his thanks, spotting the quick glance his servant spared for the body beside him, yet to acknowledge the intrusion. It was something Arthur had found humorous initially, that George was someone Merlin actually began to tolerate and even entertain. Then one day he walked in on them discussing something animatedly but in hushed tones, well, Merlin at least was openly enthusiastic – George was yet to be encouraged to completely give up on decorum. Arthur had seen a flash through the crack he was peeping in before he noticed the butterfly flutter out of Merlin’s hand, a trick he had once called Merlin a girl for, even if his own expression had betrayed his awe; George had a similar expression, and it all hit Arthur with full force.
When Merlin had revealed his magic to the kingdom, things changed all too quickly, but George had never seemed to treat him any differently. So, Merlin tolerated his unlimited, awful jokes on brass while Arthur laughed at him in privacy, whilst George came out of his pompous shell for a few minutes a day to speak to Merlin as if nothing had ever changed.
Now, Merlin did not even offer thanks when the breakfast for two was set down and George was dismissed, and Arthur could not ignore how disconcerted his new servant appeared by it. The king wondered how a warlock so powerful could not see it all. He pushed down the accompanying thought that perhaps he did, but it was too late.
Arthur watched Merlin breathe for a moment longer, before shrugging the blanket off his legs. “I’ve got a council meeting soon,” he announced almost conversationally, trying not to look at Merlin as he kicked his feet out of bed. His hands gripped the edge of the mattress as short nails dug in, “I can only delay them for so long.” His laugh was not a laugh at all, but a nervous sound he did not recognise.
When Merlin still did not respond Arthur couldn’t help but turn his head a little over his shoulder, just to catch a glimpse, although when he saw what he had expected – Merlin lying as he was before – he knew he shouldn’t have as his chest ached.
There was a time he could pester Merlin to tell him what was bothering him, to laugh with him just to see a smile brighten his mood for a while, but Arthur was resigned to the fact that this was no such time, even if he had no idea how to approach this new scenario.
Standing with his toes curling into the cold floor, he rolled his shoulders, “Gwaine would like to see you, though.”
“I don’t need a watchman,” a mumble of irritation escaped the dry lips.
Arthur tried his luck, fixing on a grin to force his cheeriness, “Gwaine does.”
Unfortunately, his attempt fell flat with a clattering only he could hear ring through his ears, Arthur unable to even elicit a chuckle; they both knew that whilst Gwaine truly did want to visit, Merlin was right, he would be keeping an eye on him.
Merlin stared up at the same brown spot his eyes had fixated on for who knew how long, flexing his fingers as the thought of changing it briefly crossed his mind. Then he considered which Arthur would find more frustrating, that he used his magic when he knew it was weak, or the colour Merlin decided on. Perhaps the king would just be grateful to see Merlin occupying himself with something other than his thoughts.
Unfortunately, with Gwaine at his bedside chatting away about… something, all Merlin could do was think. Guilt waved over him as he thought of Arthur, and of Gwaine, who must have known he was wasting his breath. Still, Merlin had other things to consider, and chose to seize the moment just as Gwaine began another thought.
“I’m starving,” he spoke clearly, cutting into the tale.
He chose not to turn to see the knight’s expression, but the silence was quick and short, before it sounded as if Gwaine slapped his hands on his knees. “I’ll see if George can bring something up.” Merlin heard the smile in his voice, and again the guilt hit him.
He blinked, ignoring it as he waited in the anticipating silence that lasted seconds too long, before he heard Gwaine suck in a breath. “Right,” the knight cleared his throat, “I’ll go see if I can find him.”
Merlin was well aware of where George would be at that moment. Still, as his ears caught the soft steps towards the door, he swallowed, “get something good, Gaius’ medicines are disgusting.” He was surprised by the shakiness of his voice as he said words that once would have come without force.
It seemed to give Gwaine pause, though, as Merlin had yet to hear the door shut. “Right you are,” he heard, not missing the tone of relief. The warlock stared at that brown intensely, waiting again with anticipation to hear the click of the door.
Once it came, he waited a moment before letting out the breath of air he had been holding as he released the blankets from his clutches, all while ignoring the ache in his body before sliding his legs from the bed. He had wandered around the room several times since he had been cooped up in there, but he sat on the edge of the bed as he considered his journey. His breathing was slow as his mind nagged at him to reconsider.
His own chambers were not far from Arthur’s – something uncoincidental and not lost on anyone in the castle – so, he knew there would be no real physical effort required if he took it carefully; in fact, he liked the idea of stretching his legs for a while and getting out of this stuffy room.
With that in mind, and a complete disregard of any other thoughts he might have had, he stood slowly and stretched as if his muscles had not been used at all. In the narrow corridors he trailed the stone walls with his hand, adamant he would not fall, but taking the precaution anyway. Each step was slow and small, but at some point he made it to his room, his beating heart a heavy contrast to his pace when he came to the door.
It opened with a light push, giving a low creak as the dust from within hit his eye. Papers were scattered around in his own orderly way, artefacts and objects thankfully left untouched by whichever servant had been tasked with the cleaning of the room; it appeared all that had been neatened, as Arthur had told him, was his bed, one which he rarely slept in even before the incident.
Once his eyes had roamed over it all and his feet scratched the floor, he stared down at them with the realisation he was yet to cross the threshold. There was nothing inherently wrong with the room, he knew, but still he hesitated. It was where he had done most of his work, and he rarely did that alone. He gulped, feet shuffling closer but not daring to go over, his knuckles white with his grip on the doorframe. When he heard voices further down the corridor, he wondered how far away Gwaine might be, though, and with a final breath, pushed himself into the room without a thought.
As soon as he had made the leap it was easier to step further in, fingers tracing sheets of paper he came across, breath hitting some of the artefacts he kept from long ago. Others, which he refused to look up at, were newer gifts. It was not long, though, before the friend that had gifted them confronted him, in the form of a scribble of words on a sheet of paper he had shown Merlin once. Some spell he had heard, something he wanted to learn, which Merlin had not hesitated to show. His lips fell even further at the once fond memory, others coming just as quickly.
Aldwin had come to him when others had turned their back on him, either in fear or in disgust; he had smiled and told him how he wished to learn magic. Merlin had been cautious, but he appeared harmless, and with the ban on magic lifted, what maleficent motive would he have? Merlin scoffed at the thoughts as he crumpled the paper in his hand, hating that he might have believed things would truly change. Perhaps in years to come, but not for him.
He grabbed at more sheets with the same scrawl and stared at them with a cold heart, thinking just how many had done the same, would do the same. He did not notice the flame in his hand before the papers he held turned to ash, falling between his fingers as if they were nothing. The feeling drained him a little, but his eyes brightened and he let out a gasp; he felt his body radiating more with anger, feet planting firmly into the floor with strength he was only borrowing, as clouds formed outside.
His breath picked up as he found more sheets, unable to stop himself even when he groaned bending to grab them. With each one burning away he felt the memories leaving with them, his heart feeling inexplicably both heavy and light, whilst the sky rumbled around him. He heard something snap in him as he burned without control, as the flame flittered in front of his eyes before it was nothing more than dust at his feet.
It was difficult to decide if it was satisfaction he felt as he watched the paper burn in a flash of gold, but he continued with a rhythm, hearing the pounding of his heart grow over the rain hammered against the castle walls. With each moment he felt weaker and stronger somehow, and he ignored the voice in his head – sounding so much like Arthur – telling him to stop it, now.
When the papers were gone but the room still so full of memories, Merlin roared with emotion, scratching his throat as the anger raged through; chairs and pots and those objects he dare not look at were thrown over as if with his breath. There was no control in it and his mind was so clouded he only just heard the thunder rumble with his shout before his hand was on his head and the room stopped in a second.
The magic was gone, the thrashing rain now only pattering more naturally against the castle, and voices filled his ears as he closed his eyes with the pain. He was sure someone called his name, but he could not answer, clutching at his head as he fell on his knees.
Hands were on him, then, he could not be sure how many, but they were still calling his name. They were asking him something, but when he was able to open his eyes, he stared out of the window at the falling rain. It was peaceful, as each drop blurred into one, before everything simply went dark.
Merlin woke to that same brown spot above him, still unchanged, though he was sure now he did not have the energy to change it.
“You’re awake,” an old voice said at his side.
He frowned before it was followed by the voice he had been expecting, attempting tonelessness but Merlin heard the anger. “You were told to rest.”
Merlin did not have to turn away from that brown spot to know the expression each man wore, so he decided to keep his eyes front; he simply lay, worn out by his own work and the memories that were evoked by each ache in his body.
He briefly heard shifting and Gaius sighed, muttering an excuse that even Merlin’s tired brain could figure out was simply to leave the two to have their space; Merlin wanted for a moment to call him back, knowing he could take Gaius’ anger over Arthur’s. Probably.
When the door clicked and the only sound was the quiet of their breathing, Merlin tried, “you don’t have to stay,” even if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted the other man to leave.
Arthur scoffed, and the unnoticed grip he had on Merlin’s hand tightened. Whether in anger or in concern, Merlin wasn’t sure he wanted the answer, though he imagined it was both, and his guilt returned quickly and with a vengeance.
“Besides the fact that these are my chambers, I’m not leaving your side.” Merlin could not help but look then, to turn and face the king who was trying hard to keep his warring emotions at bay. He was sure he saw a look of surprise cross Arthur’s face once they were finally looking at one another, and the guilt continued to sweep over him, even as Arthur made his promise.
“Maybe you should,” Merlin mumbled.
“What?”
“I’m no good, Arthur.” And he saw with Arthur’s eyes falling that the king heard the truth in his words. The grip on his hand was tighter, though, so he said, “nobody else thinks so.”
“They are wrong,” Arthur said immediately and without hesitation, evoking the first reaction from Merlin in days as his eyes widen. “They don’t know you.”
Merlin blinked slowly, watching Arthur scratch his nose and understanding its meaning; he wasn’t sure if he was ready for this yet, but that grip on his hand would be difficult to shake out of, and Merlin was enjoying the support it offered for the moment.
“Merlin, I know what Aldwin did, it was unforgiveable.”
“Yes.”
Arthur stared at him, “but… I don’t want this to… affect you,” he put lamely, clearly unimpressed by his own words as he pulled a face. Still, he stared at Merlin as if they should make sense, despite the empty look the warlock offered in return. “I’m worried about you,” he elaborated after too long a pause, “I never really realised how much you changed until I saw how happy you were with Aldwin. Probably because I didn’t want to see it. You used to be so open, now you question everything.”
Merlin realised he was holding his breath once he let it go, transfixed on Arthur’s sad sort of smile that he put there. “Arthur,” he tried, but was interrupted before he might cut the conversation short.
“You don’t smile like you used to.” It was a simple statement, but said so seriously that Merlin frowned, “I like it when you smile. I miss it.” Arthur took his own breath and Merlin blinked at something caught in his eye, watching Arthur do similar before asking almost desperately, “please, talk to me.”
Merlin’s thin armour cracked there and then, his resolve to stay quiet and on guard crumbling with each moment this man stared into his soul like he needed to know him inside and out. “I’m happy… with you,” his eyes dropped to his fingers fiddling in Arthur’s own.
“I know,” he is assured after he broke for too long. “But it’s only me.”
Merlin looked up briefly, “why can’t it be?”
Arthur almost rolled his eyes but could not commit, “because I see how sad you are; you want it to be more, I know it.”
Merlin’s eyes went back to his fingers, as if it was easier to confess to them his secrets, somehow. “Sometimes, I feel lonely.” He admitted quietly, “even now, with magic legal, I… I feel,” he struggled, but Arthur waited silently. “Disconnected. Like I don’t belong. It’s like I can’t belong with those who practice magic, but I can’t belong without them, either. I don’t know,” he shrugged against the soft pillow beneath him.
“I understand.”
Merlin scoffed then, “no. No, you can’t.” His voice worked through tears he hadn’t noticed, “you can’t know, Arthur, what it’s like to see people who… who are like you, but feeling like you aren’t one of them, because you’ve been away so long. But then you’re shunned from everyone else, feared.” He fell into a whisper, cheeks reddening, “I thought things might have changed more quickly.” He shifted, turning back to that brown spot that never changed, “I feel as if I’m drifting and I’ll never get to settle. Aldwin, he… he made me feel connected to that part of myself,” closing his eyes, he sighed. “And now I feel a fool for trusting him at all.”
“No,” Arthur’s voice sounded wet, but there was a ferocity to it that he had always had. “You are no fool.” He sounded so filled with fury that Merlin almost believed him.
Instead, Merlin said as he faced him once more, “I trusted him, I’ve trusted others… I keep making the same mistake.”
Arthur held his head high, “a wise man once told me trusting isn’t a weakness, but betraying that trust is.”
“Sounds like an idiot,” Merlin mumbled.
Arthur’s laugh was soft and not all there, “he is,” he said softly. “But even they can be right, sometimes.” The way he stared at Merlin made the warlock want to believe him, even as his mind raced.
“How can I trust anyone again?”
“You must,” Arthur’s jaw clenched in determination, grounding Merlin as the only thing that might stand a chance. “Because you trust me, and Gwen, and even Gwaine. There are others, Merlin, who won’t turn their backs on you.”
“What if I can’t?” his own jaw clenched in desperation.
“I’ll make sure you do,” he received as reply, as if it were so simple. “Because you’re always by my side, and I’m always by yours, even when you feel you’ve drifted too far.”
Merlin closed his eyes, letting out a sigh, pushing himself further into Arthur’s reach as he gave in.
“But don’t do anything stupid,” Arthur’s voice warned in his ear as the man held him tight. “I can’t lose you.”