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“Will you put that down?” Arthur’s voice rang out irritably. “The havoc you’re wrecking in my bedroom is dreadfully loud.”
Merlin’s jaw dropped, and he furiously looked up from the chest plate he was cleaning. “Are you serious? The havoc I’m wrecking in your room is me cleaning. I swear! You’re never satisfied! It’s like you want to get the chance to yell at me for rats in your room!”
Arthur ran a hand through his hair. His head felt like his horse just stomped on it, and gods, he felt exhausted. He hadn’t done much of anything that day, and yet he felt years worth of tiredness. It was peculiar, but he honestly couldn’t get himself care. “You’re dismissed for the day.”
“What?” Merlin squawked. “I—“
“Please.”
Merlin looked gobsmacked. And then he ducked his head, muttered “Sire,” and left.
Merlin made sure to close the door softly, but the sound echoed in Arthur’s head.
Arthur had felt this way once, long ago. When he was young and angry at his father, possibly twelve years of age, his father had a phase where he refused to speak to or even look at Arthur. Sometimes he’d forbid others from speaking of him in his presence.
Gaius told him it was because Arthur reminded Uther of Igraine too much. Arthur always used to beg him for details about his mother, and a little ball of hatred would grow in his chest when Gaius would shake his head sadly, knowing that Gaius was forbidden from speaking about the former queen.
But one night, after Arthur had a long and exhausting week, training with the knights that were three, four times his senior, he collapsed in Gaius’s chambers. As Gaius patched him up, he murmured, “It’s your eyes.”
“What?” Arthur croaked. He was so young, too young, and desperate for his father’s affection. He was working himself to the bone, despite knowing Uther would never be satisfied.
“Your eyes are exactly like hers.”
“Green?” Arthur asked.
“Yes, yes, green. But also so filled with love. Filled with love that could overpower His Majesty. She would never let the King get his way if it crossed her, even if that simply meant switching meals at dinner because she wanted his plate more.”
“Really?” Arthur laughed, his fingers curling around the fabric of his pants. “She would do that?”
“Oh, she would. Especially while she was pregnant with you.”
Arthur’s smile dropped. “I often wish she wasn’t.”
“What?” Gaius placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Prince, what do you speak of?”
“I killed her, Gaius. I am the reason why she’s gone, and it’s unforgivable.”
“Prince Arthur, you did not kill her. The cruelty of fate and limits of the human body had killed her.”
“My father doesn’t think that. He hasn’t even glanced at me in almost a month now.”
“Well.” Gaius inhaled sharply. “I believe I will see him tomorrow, and I will surely bring that up.”
Arthur’s eyes widened in horror. “No, Gaius, please don’t. If he thinks I am complaining about him to others, he’d be so furious!”
An intense emotion crossed Gaius’s face. “My lord, I will simply tell him that I noticed it.” And his hand on Arthur’s shoulder tightened. “I apologize. I should have noticed.”
Arthur looked away. There was a sharp pain in his chest that he had long since associated with Uther. “It is not on your list of many duties, Gaius.”
“But yes, yes, it is.” Gaius smiled softly at him. “I promised your mother. And you are still my prince. You hold the weight of the world, Arthur, and I am honored to have the opportunity to help you carry it.”
Arthur had had that conversation with Gaius almost a decade ago, and little was spoken of his mother after that. He’s sure that his father likely threatened Gaius with a horrible fate upon mention of his name, and so when Arthur met with Gaius the next night, Gaius merely shook his head with a grim face and told him that the king was stubborn.
As if Arthur didn’t already know that.
Much has changed since then, although Uther’s stubbornness never wavered until his very end, and now Arthur was the king. “Long live the king,” he remembered the hall chanting after the crown was placed upon his head.
He had wondered if the people greeted his father with the same cheer and excitement during his coronation. Of course, he remembered that he merely inherited the throne while his father had fought a war for it, as Uther loved to remind him.
His eye caught on a blade that was sitting on his desk. It’s the dagger that his father had given him at thirteen years of age, after a fit of rage in which he was startled awake by a set of hands around his throat, and only when his eyes started to flutter and life slipped away from him, and darkness took its place, his father threw himself away from his bed, collapsing into racking sobs. He could never forget how his father sounded as he hiccuped, wept, and begged for Igraine’s forgiveness. Not Arthur’s, but Igraine’s.
Arthur had clutched at his throat, knowing bruising would soon form.
A week later, his father drunkenly stumbled into his room, tossing this dagger at his feet. He then told Arthur to shove the blade between his ribs if he ever tried to hurt him again. Uther didn’t think Igraine would forgive him if he killed her son.
Arthur was later gifted a red jacket with a stiff standing collar after a lord noticed the bruises and brought it to Uther’s attention. His father only laughed and dismissed it as a result of sparring with the knights, but lo and behold: somebody left a neatly folded red jacket on his bed that night.
It took him half a year of sleeping draughts to sleep peacefully again without startling awake when his blanket would touch his neck.
Arthur fingered the dagger. He imagined what would have happened if Uther had tried to choke him in his sleep again. He had kept the blade under his pillow under Uther’s instructions, but his father never tried again. He wondered if he would have followed his father’s drunken orders and slurred words and stabbed his kin. Or perhaps, he would have simply let it happen and allowed his father to finally get revenge upon the child that had killed the love of his life.
Arthur would have floated into the welcoming bliss of death and perhaps saw his mother for the first time. He would have been free of his responsibilities and his father’s bitter resentment for a deed committed long ago.
But alas, he was alive—a king and not a very good one.
It felt like all he did was make mistakes, as every single decision seemed to spell out the ruin of Camelot until pure luck saved him.
He was beyond unworthy of the throne, and a quiet voice in his head wondered if he should thrust this dagger into his gut and allow his uncle to take the throne.
He blinked. And then dropped the dagger, the clatter ringing in his ears as his hands shook. Such thoughts had never crossed his mind before. Of course, he had sometimes considered letting death take its course, but he had never contemplated doing it himself.
His finger stung, and he trembled as he brought his hand up to his face to peer at the blood dripping from a small cut from when he dropped the dagger.
Arthur wanted to vomit. But instead, he did what he did best and collapsed onto his floor, shouting for Merlin.
He leaned his head on the wall, gasping for breath that never seemed to come. His lungs seemed to stop working, and they burned. His yells for Merlin became breathless, mouthing as his hands tore at his chest, desperate for air.
“Please,” he begged for his life. “I am dying.”
“Arthur!”
He looked up to see Merlin dashing into his room.
“Are you alright?”
Obviously, not, Arthur thought to himself incredulously. Merlin stared at him, and Arthur plastered himself against the wall.
“I can’t breathe,” Arthur gasped, tears at the edges of his eyes.
“Did someone come inside? Have you been poisoned?” Merlin asked, confused. “I’ve been outside the entire time!” He reached out to touch Arthur, which he unconsciously threw himself away from.
“S-sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—“Arthur stuttered before Merlin shook his head. The hurt look in his eyes made Arthur’s chest hurt even more.
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“No, you don’t understand—“
“Arthur.” Merlin said, and Arthur quieted.” Breathe.”
“I’m trying.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re fighting me.” He pointed at himself. “Listen and breathe with me.”
Arthur stared at Merlin’s mouth as he inhaled and exhaled, his lungs struggling to follow, but eventually, it got easier.
“Now,” Merlin said once Arthur calmed down. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
“I,” Arthur began but didn’t finish. “I... I’m so tired, Merlin.”
“Sire?” Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed. “Have you not been sleeping well?”
“I’ve gotten enough sleep. That’s not it.” Arthur sighed. “I just—“He cut himself off and shook his head. “Please take that dagger on the floor with you and remove it from the castle.”
Merlin stared, mouth agape. “What?” His forehead wrinkled as he took in the sight of the dagger on the floor. “Remove it?”
“Yes. Remove it. Are you as deaf as you are dumb?” Arthur’s insult was weak and limp. It sounded wrong and weird on his lips, unlike the comfortableness he usually felt during their typical banter. “Sell it, destroy it, give it to an orphan, for all I care. Just make sure it is out of the castle.”
Merlin picked it up gingerly, peering at it. “Is that blood on it, Sire?”
“Remove it!” Arthur roared.
“No.”
“No?” Arthur repeated. “No?”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on. I saw blood on your hand.” Merlin looked at him with this emotion that Arthur had seen on Gaius’s face many times.
Arthur grimaced. He let his posture slump, and they were surrounded in silence until he spoke. “Do you ever,” his voice cracked, and he shook his head in frustration and started again, “Do you ever not wish to exist?”
“Arthur?”
“Yes or no.”
Merlin exhaled softly. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, Arthur realized how sad he looked. “Yes. Yes, I have.”
Arthur nodded, unsure why he had even asked, but Merlin powered on, “But then I remember that there must be a reason why I am on this Earth. There is a reason why I am on this Earth and—“
“How can you be so sure? How are you so certain that your life isn’t meaningless or worthless?”
“I—I just know.” Merlin stared down at his feet. And then he looked up at Arthur with determination. “But even if I didn’t know that, I do know everyone on this Earth deserves a chance to live. This world we’ve been born into is so beautiful and holds so many mysteries, luxuries, and amazing things that we will only ever get a glimpse of, considering how short our lives are. And because of that, we need to seize every moment we’ve got here.
“Yes, there’s going to be hardships and awful moments that we don’t want to live through, but how are we going to experience the best of life if we let the worst of life blind us and rob us of the little time that we have?”
Arthur stared. “What if I am not worthy of such beauties of life?”
Merlin reached out to grasp Arthur’s hands, and Arthur did not pull away this time. “You are. I swear to any deity, power, or being that we both hold dear and in high regard and promise you that you are worthy. You are King Arthur. You are the Once and Future King of Albion who will bestow peace upon the lands. You are the king who stays true to his word and treats all others equally and with honor. You are the knight who will defend Camelot until your last breath, and all your people know it and adore you for it. You hold the weight of the world and yet stand with your head tall and chin up.
“But above all of that,” Merlin squeezes Arthur’s hands. “You are Arthur. Pure of heart and brave of spirit. A man who is kind and compassionate and forgiving, despite so many chances to become corrupt.
“You are the best of us, Arthur. The best.”
Arthur’s eyes filled with tears despite himself, and he looked away from Merlin’s piercing gaze. “You know, Merlin, you’ve never failed to surprise me.”
Merlin laughed softly. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
“Of course, of course.” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hands back. “Thank you, Merlin. Thank you.”
Merlin looked him in the eye. “I repeat this with absolute sincerity: I am happy, so happy to die in your service. I will serve you always, for as long as I live.”
“You are more than I deserve, Merlin.” Arthur raised his hand when Merlin opened his mouth to argue.” No, you are. You are, and I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. I’m sure I will never truly understand the lengths you have gone to for me.”
Merlin cracked a wry smile. “Now, on that, I can agree. But I regret nothing. Nothing.”
They smiled at each other, understanding one another more than any other person in the world could.
“Well,” Merlin began to pull away. “Would you like me to finish cleaning your armor now?”
“No, please,” Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s hands. “Just stay with me for now. Just for the day.”
Merlin nodded, sitting back down. “Of course. For as long as you’d like.”
And the weight on Arthur’s shoulders seemed to lessen.