Fic: Nevermind what I said, just don't go (Merlin; PG)
Author/Artist: shadecat
Title: Nevermind what I said, just don't go.
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Merlin, Arthur
Rating: PG
Summary: Merlin's secret is revealed and Arthur may have reacted badly. Can he somehow convince his friend and confidant to stay?
Warnings (if any): N/A
Total word count: 1,676
Original prompt number: 15
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC. No money is being made (boo) and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): This fic was dragged out of me. I'm SO sorry on the lack of substance AND porn... I kind of failed with this. Also, I haven't seen season 3 of Merlin yet, though I've seen/read spoilers - so I couldn't be as up to date with this as I wanted.
Beta(s): M, M and I.
If I shackled your feet so you couldn’t leave-
Would you try and run?
“You can’t go.” Arthur’s mouth was a thin line as he glared at Merlin.
“You told me to.” Merlin answered softly, voice barely a whisper as he stared back at Arthur.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “And now I’m telling you that you can’t.”
Merlin’s voice stayed steady as he asked, “What are you going to do, throw me in the dungeons? Shackle me to the wall so you can deal with me at your leisure?”
“If I have to.”
Merlin closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall. “Arthur...”
Arthur had Merlin pressed against the wall of Merlin’s room, hands bracketing his shoulders. His face was a mix of hurt and rage, confusion and pain; each emotion flitting over his face as Arthur tried to process Merlin’s revelation. He settled on angry confusion, brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down as he asked, “Why?”
The list of ‘whys’ was long and varied - why tell me, why now, why you, why not tell me earlier, why here, why are you leaving me... Merlin wasn’t sure which to address first, so he asked. “Why what, Arthur?”
Arthur pushed off from the wall and walked away, stopping and turning back to Merlin when he reached the far wall. “Why are you a sorcerer?”
“Warlock, actually.” Merlin corrected, making Arthur frown. Sighing, Merlin reached up and ran a hand through his hair, almost as if he was trying to soothe himself. “I didn’t choose it. I was born like this.”
Arthur snorted. “Nobody’s born magical, Merlin.” Merlin quirked a brow at Arthur and he dropped his eyes. “That’s different.”
“Is it? Is it so hard to believe that I could be born this way? Born after you to help you become the man you’re meant to be?” Merlin’s eyes felt heavy on Arthur.
“And how do you know what kind of man I’m supposed to be?” Arthur folded his arms across his chest.
It was Merlin’s turn to snort. “I’ve practically had it thrust in my face since I first set foot in Camelot.” He went over to the bed and continued with what he was doing before Arthur had burst into his room; packing.
“You know what will happen when my father finds out,” Arthur said, voice heavy with regret.
Merlin’s eyes turned sad. “Again, something I’ve known since I set foot in Camelot.”
Anger burned in Arthur. Anger at Merlin, for being so pigheadedly stupid as to stay in the one place that guaranteed a death warrant if he was ever found out. Anger at his father, for being so steadfastly afraid and set against anything magical. Anger at himself, a lot of anger at himself, for not seeing it sooner; for not being able to tell that he had a magic user working right next to him for years. “Then why would you stay?” Arthur shouted.
“For you, you pretentious prat. Because every time I turned around, there was always someone trying to do you in. Usually a magic user. What was I supposed to do, stand aside and just let them kill you?” Merlin’s hands stopped bundling clothes into his rucksack. “Actually, that might have made the last few years quite a bit easier.”
Arthur squeezed his arms with his fingers as he forced himself to stay leaning against the far wall. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “Then why are you leaving now?” He mentally flinched at the pleading tone he’d used.
Merlin sighed and gave Arthur a reproachful look. “You know why.”
Arthur’s mind went back to the scene in his own room - him questioning Merlin about seeing his eyes change colour as an attacking mercenary had been toppled by a dropping candelabra before he’d been able to impale Arthur; Merlin dropping his eyes and mumbling that it was nothing and Arthur finally putting the pieces together. Him accusing Merlin of treason and trying to get close to the royal family to kill them off; Merlin saying that if he’d wanted to do that, he could have before he’d ever been forced into Arthur’s service. Throwing a goblet at the wall beside Merlin and watching the contents splash against the wall, a small spray falling over Merlin’s shoulder as he screamed at Merlin to leave; Merlin flinching, eyes hurt as he gave a small nod of his head and said that would probably be best.
If I was sincere, whispered my fears-
Would you still be here?
“You can’t go,” Arthur stubbornly repeated.
“I have to.” Merlin fiddled with a loose tie on his rucksack, eyes still firm on Arthur.
“No.” Arthur unfolded his arms and dropped his fisted hands to his sides.
“Is that an order, sire?” Merlin’s chin angled out.
Arthur wanted to say yes. He wanted to scream and hit the wall. He wanted the last few hours to have never happened. Looking at Merlin - at his friend - Arthur couldn’t bring himself to lash out like he wanted. He saw the way Merlin’s eyes flinched with every movement of his hand or body, like he was expecting a blow. He saw the defensive posture as Merlin waited for more insults to be hurled at him. Arthur had none. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to stand on the other side of Merlin’s cot. “You can’t go,” Arthur’s voice was low.
“Why?” Merlin’s eyes held a silent pleading in them, give me a reason, they said.
“Because I need you, Merlin.” Arthur’s tongue felt heavy saying the words - admitting weakness of any sort to anyone was not an easy task.
“There are plenty of servants in the castle to take up where I left off. You might manage to get one capable of doing a decent job.” The smirk didn’t quite reach Merlin’s eyes.
“I don’t need a servant. I need you.” Arthur’s face burned with his admission, but he refused to lower his eyes. “I need someone to tell me when I’m being an ass.”
Merlin’s smirk grew. “True.”
“I need someone who I can talk to, someone I can trust. I need someone who’s willing to put themselves in harm’s way just to call me a prat to my face. I need someone who-,” Arthur’s throat was suddenly dry, “I need someone who cares enough to live with the threat of death every day just to keep me from bumbling into danger; something I hadn’t thought I’d been doing until I realized how often you were there.” Arthur took another breath. “You were there, Merlin. You can’t not be there.”
“Your father-,” Merlin started.
“Doesn’t need to know,” Arthur finished. “You’re not going to suddenly turn evil and try to kill any of us, are you?”
Merlin shook his head.
Arthur lowered himself until he was sitting on the edge of the cot, back to Merlin. “Everything’s gone and changed so much recently. I don’t think I could deal with you being gone.”
“I wish you’d make up your bloody mind. Stay, go, stay, go...” Merlin sat on the opposite side of the cot, body sliding back into the dip Arthur was making.
Pushing himself against Merlin’s back resting on his, Arthur said, “I can’t lose you, Merlin.”
Would you stay-
Would you stay with me?
“You say that like you ever had me.” Merlin nudged back.
Turning sideways on the bed, Arthur stared at Merlin. “Stay. Please.”
Merlin mimicked him, turning so they were mirror images of each other - one knee bent, one over the edge of the cot. His eyes traced over Arthur as though he were measuring him, searching through him for something. Arthur thought maybe he was. He tried to make everything he was feeling right then visible in his eyes, in his face. When Merlin’s hand came up to rest lightly on his shoulder, he knew he’d succeeded. “I’ll stay,” Merlin said, lips barely moving.
Arthur lifted his own hand and placed it over Merlin’s on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Merlin’s lips quirked up. “I would like a few conditions, though.”
Arthur forced his smile down. “Such as?”
“No more trips to the stocks. Ever.”
“I can agree to that.” Arthur smiled.
“No more sparring sessions, otherwise known as ‘Let’s beat on Merlin’ sessions.” Merlin’s grin widened.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You were a lousy sparring partner anyway.”
“No more calling me an idiot.”
“But you are an idiot.”
“And you’re a prat.”
“Merlin...” Arthur warned.
“With a padded arse - wholly suitable for riding horses for long periods without causing yourself pain, unlike most people.” Merlin’s eyes were lit with impish glee.
“Merlin...” Arthur shrugged off Merlin’s hand and stood beside the bed.
“I’m just telling it like it is, sire. I’d hate for your head to get big enough to match your arse.” Merlin eyed Arthur’s head, then peered at his arse as though judging the difference.
“Right,” Arthur gritted out as he took a swing at Merlin.
Merlin ducked and jumped up quickly, backing towards his door with a grin plastered on his face. “Oh, getting slow in your old age, sire. Maybe you should cut down on the feasts.”
Arthur stalked after Merlin. “We’ll see who’ll be getting cut down, you impertinent clod.”
Merlin let out an ‘Eep’ before turning tail and running out the door, Arthur on his heels.
~
And so they went on, much as they always had; Merlin using his magic for the good of Camelot with mostly no one being the wiser. And if he perchance used it to give Arthur a good pinch or steal a sweetmeat here or there, could he really be blamed? Especially if Arthur was so willing to turn a blind eye in return for steaming hot baths on order or a few days of practice and training being cancelled on account of the sudden torrential downpour or blizzard. They’d reached an agreement and they’d settled contentedly into it - bar the occasional tussle... Not that either of them was really complaining.
Title: Nevermind what I said, just don't go.
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Merlin, Arthur
Rating: PG
Summary: Merlin's secret is revealed and Arthur may have reacted badly. Can he somehow convince his friend and confidant to stay?
Warnings (if any): N/A
Total word count: 1,676
Original prompt number: 15
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC. No money is being made (boo) and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): This fic was dragged out of me. I'm SO sorry on the lack of substance AND porn... I kind of failed with this. Also, I haven't seen season 3 of Merlin yet, though I've seen/read spoilers - so I couldn't be as up to date with this as I wanted.
Beta(s): M, M and I.
If I shackled your feet so you couldn’t leave-
Would you try and run?
“You can’t go.” Arthur’s mouth was a thin line as he glared at Merlin.
“You told me to.” Merlin answered softly, voice barely a whisper as he stared back at Arthur.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “And now I’m telling you that you can’t.”
Merlin’s voice stayed steady as he asked, “What are you going to do, throw me in the dungeons? Shackle me to the wall so you can deal with me at your leisure?”
“If I have to.”
Merlin closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall. “Arthur...”
Arthur had Merlin pressed against the wall of Merlin’s room, hands bracketing his shoulders. His face was a mix of hurt and rage, confusion and pain; each emotion flitting over his face as Arthur tried to process Merlin’s revelation. He settled on angry confusion, brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down as he asked, “Why?”
The list of ‘whys’ was long and varied - why tell me, why now, why you, why not tell me earlier, why here, why are you leaving me... Merlin wasn’t sure which to address first, so he asked. “Why what, Arthur?”
Arthur pushed off from the wall and walked away, stopping and turning back to Merlin when he reached the far wall. “Why are you a sorcerer?”
“Warlock, actually.” Merlin corrected, making Arthur frown. Sighing, Merlin reached up and ran a hand through his hair, almost as if he was trying to soothe himself. “I didn’t choose it. I was born like this.”
Arthur snorted. “Nobody’s born magical, Merlin.” Merlin quirked a brow at Arthur and he dropped his eyes. “That’s different.”
“Is it? Is it so hard to believe that I could be born this way? Born after you to help you become the man you’re meant to be?” Merlin’s eyes felt heavy on Arthur.
“And how do you know what kind of man I’m supposed to be?” Arthur folded his arms across his chest.
It was Merlin’s turn to snort. “I’ve practically had it thrust in my face since I first set foot in Camelot.” He went over to the bed and continued with what he was doing before Arthur had burst into his room; packing.
“You know what will happen when my father finds out,” Arthur said, voice heavy with regret.
Merlin’s eyes turned sad. “Again, something I’ve known since I set foot in Camelot.”
Anger burned in Arthur. Anger at Merlin, for being so pigheadedly stupid as to stay in the one place that guaranteed a death warrant if he was ever found out. Anger at his father, for being so steadfastly afraid and set against anything magical. Anger at himself, a lot of anger at himself, for not seeing it sooner; for not being able to tell that he had a magic user working right next to him for years. “Then why would you stay?” Arthur shouted.
“For you, you pretentious prat. Because every time I turned around, there was always someone trying to do you in. Usually a magic user. What was I supposed to do, stand aside and just let them kill you?” Merlin’s hands stopped bundling clothes into his rucksack. “Actually, that might have made the last few years quite a bit easier.”
Arthur squeezed his arms with his fingers as he forced himself to stay leaning against the far wall. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “Then why are you leaving now?” He mentally flinched at the pleading tone he’d used.
Merlin sighed and gave Arthur a reproachful look. “You know why.”
Arthur’s mind went back to the scene in his own room - him questioning Merlin about seeing his eyes change colour as an attacking mercenary had been toppled by a dropping candelabra before he’d been able to impale Arthur; Merlin dropping his eyes and mumbling that it was nothing and Arthur finally putting the pieces together. Him accusing Merlin of treason and trying to get close to the royal family to kill them off; Merlin saying that if he’d wanted to do that, he could have before he’d ever been forced into Arthur’s service. Throwing a goblet at the wall beside Merlin and watching the contents splash against the wall, a small spray falling over Merlin’s shoulder as he screamed at Merlin to leave; Merlin flinching, eyes hurt as he gave a small nod of his head and said that would probably be best.
If I was sincere, whispered my fears-
Would you still be here?
“You can’t go,” Arthur stubbornly repeated.
“I have to.” Merlin fiddled with a loose tie on his rucksack, eyes still firm on Arthur.
“No.” Arthur unfolded his arms and dropped his fisted hands to his sides.
“Is that an order, sire?” Merlin’s chin angled out.
Arthur wanted to say yes. He wanted to scream and hit the wall. He wanted the last few hours to have never happened. Looking at Merlin - at his friend - Arthur couldn’t bring himself to lash out like he wanted. He saw the way Merlin’s eyes flinched with every movement of his hand or body, like he was expecting a blow. He saw the defensive posture as Merlin waited for more insults to be hurled at him. Arthur had none. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to stand on the other side of Merlin’s cot. “You can’t go,” Arthur’s voice was low.
“Why?” Merlin’s eyes held a silent pleading in them, give me a reason, they said.
“Because I need you, Merlin.” Arthur’s tongue felt heavy saying the words - admitting weakness of any sort to anyone was not an easy task.
“There are plenty of servants in the castle to take up where I left off. You might manage to get one capable of doing a decent job.” The smirk didn’t quite reach Merlin’s eyes.
“I don’t need a servant. I need you.” Arthur’s face burned with his admission, but he refused to lower his eyes. “I need someone to tell me when I’m being an ass.”
Merlin’s smirk grew. “True.”
“I need someone who I can talk to, someone I can trust. I need someone who’s willing to put themselves in harm’s way just to call me a prat to my face. I need someone who-,” Arthur’s throat was suddenly dry, “I need someone who cares enough to live with the threat of death every day just to keep me from bumbling into danger; something I hadn’t thought I’d been doing until I realized how often you were there.” Arthur took another breath. “You were there, Merlin. You can’t not be there.”
“Your father-,” Merlin started.
“Doesn’t need to know,” Arthur finished. “You’re not going to suddenly turn evil and try to kill any of us, are you?”
Merlin shook his head.
Arthur lowered himself until he was sitting on the edge of the cot, back to Merlin. “Everything’s gone and changed so much recently. I don’t think I could deal with you being gone.”
“I wish you’d make up your bloody mind. Stay, go, stay, go...” Merlin sat on the opposite side of the cot, body sliding back into the dip Arthur was making.
Pushing himself against Merlin’s back resting on his, Arthur said, “I can’t lose you, Merlin.”
Would you stay-
Would you stay with me?
“You say that like you ever had me.” Merlin nudged back.
Turning sideways on the bed, Arthur stared at Merlin. “Stay. Please.”
Merlin mimicked him, turning so they were mirror images of each other - one knee bent, one over the edge of the cot. His eyes traced over Arthur as though he were measuring him, searching through him for something. Arthur thought maybe he was. He tried to make everything he was feeling right then visible in his eyes, in his face. When Merlin’s hand came up to rest lightly on his shoulder, he knew he’d succeeded. “I’ll stay,” Merlin said, lips barely moving.
Arthur lifted his own hand and placed it over Merlin’s on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Merlin’s lips quirked up. “I would like a few conditions, though.”
Arthur forced his smile down. “Such as?”
“No more trips to the stocks. Ever.”
“I can agree to that.” Arthur smiled.
“No more sparring sessions, otherwise known as ‘Let’s beat on Merlin’ sessions.” Merlin’s grin widened.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You were a lousy sparring partner anyway.”
“No more calling me an idiot.”
“But you are an idiot.”
“And you’re a prat.”
“Merlin...” Arthur warned.
“With a padded arse - wholly suitable for riding horses for long periods without causing yourself pain, unlike most people.” Merlin’s eyes were lit with impish glee.
“Merlin...” Arthur shrugged off Merlin’s hand and stood beside the bed.
“I’m just telling it like it is, sire. I’d hate for your head to get big enough to match your arse.” Merlin eyed Arthur’s head, then peered at his arse as though judging the difference.
“Right,” Arthur gritted out as he took a swing at Merlin.
Merlin ducked and jumped up quickly, backing towards his door with a grin plastered on his face. “Oh, getting slow in your old age, sire. Maybe you should cut down on the feasts.”
Arthur stalked after Merlin. “We’ll see who’ll be getting cut down, you impertinent clod.”
Merlin let out an ‘Eep’ before turning tail and running out the door, Arthur on his heels.
~
And so they went on, much as they always had; Merlin using his magic for the good of Camelot with mostly no one being the wiser. And if he perchance used it to give Arthur a good pinch or steal a sweetmeat here or there, could he really be blamed? Especially if Arthur was so willing to turn a blind eye in return for steaming hot baths on order or a few days of practice and training being cancelled on account of the sudden torrential downpour or blizzard. They’d reached an agreement and they’d settled contentedly into it - bar the occasional tussle... Not that either of them was really complaining.