No Man, Save One (1/1)
Title: No Man, Save One
Rating: FRT
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Words: ~2500
Spoilers: all aired, just in case
Warnings: Future!fic
Summary: "You once told me that no man was worth my tears."
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine
A/N: I've recently rewatched 'The Last Dragonlord' and I've always loved Arthur's 'no man is worth your tears' line and the episode itself sparked a couple of ideas in my head - this being one of them, based around that line. I'll write the other idea up soonish (I just need to finish my Leverage Marathon, almost at the end of S2). I'm pretty excited about this fic, it was a nice little idea that took root quite firmly yesterday afternoon when I watched the ep =]
I hope you guys like it!
---
NO MAN , SAVE ONE
It had, over the years, become a subject that was avoided, a decision made mutually and silently after yet another close encounter with death. Arthur had heard the rumours of magic being involved in many of his excursions, coupled by a few too many times where Merlin's insistence that the day had been saved by Arthur's sword when he couldn't really remember what had happened. On occasion, he'd even seen Merlin's magic, through half lidded eyes or a haze of pain; times when his servant probably didn't realise he was conscious. Those times would blur in his memory as soon as he woke but they still niggled and churned away in his subconscious.
It went on for nearly a decade, their relationship evolving over the years through all kind of permutations. There had even been a stretch of seven or so months where Arthur had banished Merlin from the castle and sent him back to Ealdor. The order had been given in anger, the final act of a bitter argument that had raged for hours. It had revolved around Uther, shortly after the attack of the Great Dragon, but Arthur had pointedly forgotten the details since then and Merlin gave no sign that he remembered them. It had been an urgent request from Gaius that had brought Merlin back to Camelot, to Arthur's bedside as a magical illness raged through his system. When Arthur had woken to see Merlin lounging back in the chair beside him, the forgiveness had been instantaneous.
Somewhere along the line, they'd become occasional lovers, convenience eventually turning to adoration that only made Merlin's magic more obvious - a flicker of gold at the height of passion or a partly whispered word in a tongue Arthur didn't know. He filed away each and every occasion and kept his knowledge to himself, compiling a personal library available to only him. The snippets of magic use sat alongside the way Merlin's spine curved and the way his shuddered when Arthur bit down on his collar bone. It wasn't until dawn on the fifth day of Arthur's reign that it all became certain.
Uther had been growing steadily more unwell since midwinter and after nearly half a year of battling with his illness, he'd been confined to his bed until he recovered. He only continued to grow weaker, until he could no longer swallow food or water or the now useless medications Gaius produced. All they'd been able to do was watch until the death knell sounded across the citadel.
He was entombed with his forbears on the evening of the fourth day, Arthur standing at the head of the procession, his knights carrying his father's shrouded body in front of him. Merlin had stood faithfully beside him as the tomb was closed and the prayers were cast. Arthur had stood with his hands clenched into white knuckled fists to stop himself from clutching at Merlin, just to find some shred of comfort, some reassurance that his world wouldn't come tumbling down when he next blinked his eyes. They'd retired to bed together early, Arthur finally collapsing his walls and metal armour to be held by the only person remaining who he was truly terrified of losing.
He'd slept fitfully that night, waking up early in a cold sweat, his father's haggard face looming out at him from behind dark and torn veils. He'd clapped a hand across his mouth tightly to stop his ragged breath and dry sobs from waking Merlin, his eyes wide with fear, trying desperately to hold back the tears that suddenly seemed to flood to him. He'd not shed a single one in all the time his father had been ill and the few days since his passing. He'd kept his grief locked as far down as possible and he had no idea why it should surface now, at that precise moment.
Without a second thought, he eased himself from bed and tugged on his hunting clothes, boots and a jacket, leaving the room as quickly as possible. He didn't turn to look at Merlin as he left for he knew he needed to get out for a walk before he broke down completely in front of the man. There was only so much vulnerability Arthur could bear to show at any one time.
Sunlight was barely beginning to show on the horizon, the clouds lightening from the darkness of night to the twilight of the oncoming day. His feet automatically knew where to go and before he was actually awake enough to take in his surroundings, he was standing on one of the castle walls, staring out across what was now his kingdom. His kingdom.
Words from his past flickered in his ears, warnings and musings and sly remarks that his father had delighted in imparting to him. His whole life was filled with the constant reminder that he would one day rule over the land he lived in, but he hadn't expected it so soon - but then, so much of his life was nothing how he'd expected. He'd always assumed he'd be married to a beautiful woman and at least five years older before his father passed him the crown, not struggling to keep his control on his devotion to his male lover.
He brought his hands to his face and rubbed hard at his eyes, feeling the first of the tears break through as the real weight of his future began to weigh on him. He gritted his teeth together, determined to make no sound, but his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. He sucked in shuddering breaths through his nose and tried not to see his father's face behind his eyelids, but none of the tricks that usually calmed him were working. He didn't pay any attention to the time passing by, but he knew it must have been a good while before the sobs died down and he peered through his fingers at the streaked sky.
“You once told me that no man was worth my tears.” The voice behind him was calm and Arthur jumped inwardly, torn between yelling at him to go away and tugging him closer. He settled for wiping his eyes completely and setting his face into one of the stern masks he frequently wore. He folded his arms and glanced over his shoulder at Merlin, who was staring off into the distance, hands clasped behind his back.
“Yeah, well... he was my father.” Arthur said brusquely, turning to look out at the slowly lightening sky again. There was a long beat of silence between them, where the slight chill of the early morning bit into them, before Merlin stepped forward to stand by the wall, a couple of feet away from Arthur.
“I guess you now know how I felt, then.” Merlin's voice was almost a whisper and Arthur looked over at him in shock, the press of tears behind his eyes momentarily forgotten. Merlin shifted his shoulders under his shirt and his eyes flitted everywhere but at Arthur.
“He... The Dragonlord was your father?” Arthur's voice was harsher than he'd expected it to be and he winced the moment he'd spoken, seeing the way Merlin swallowed hard before he nodded. “Why didn't you say anything?”
“How would the son of a Dragonlord be viewed by your father?” Merlin glanced at him them, a humourless smile tugging at a side of his mouth. Arthur grimaced a little and nodded his understanding.
“You always told me you never knew your father though.” This time he was reproachful. He remembered the times they'd discussed their lost parents, finding comfort in another soul who felt the same loss, and this felt a little like betrayal.
“I only found out the night before we left to find him. My mother made Gaius swear never to tell me.” Merlin was staring off again, seemingly lost in the memories of the brief acquaintance he'd enjoyed. Arthur allowed him the memories and forced himself not to dredge up his own memories of his mother's apparition - he'd never fully decided whether or not he believed what he'd been told that night and he refused to dwell on it. The thought of the magic used that night sparked a train of thought that he decided to pursue instead.
“Did you... inherit anything from him?” Arthur asked cautiously, knowing that he was breaking some sort of unspoken deal between them. Merlin looked at him, his face unreadable before he nodded once more, a slow, considered movement that seemed to shift something between them.
“He... died before he could stop the great dragon but...” Merlin trailed off for a moment, his forehead furrowing a little as he tried to gather together the right words. “The skills needed to do the job was something passed through the bloodline, from father to son.”
Their eyes met, in a clash of defiance and resignation, and Arthur did his best to look encouraging and to reassure his lover that he wasn't about to take his head off.
“So, I didn't save Camelot with my strength and steel?” He smiled with genuine humour and Merlin looked a little dumbstruck for a moment before he returned the smile and shrugged.
“No, not really... I do have something to confess though.” Merlin said suddenly, his face slipping back into the drawn, slightly fearful expression of moments ago.
“Only something?” Arthur tried for humour again, but it struck a little too close for comfort and they both heard it ring hollow.
“I didn't kill the dragon.” Merlin muttered, Arthur's jaw dropping in disbelief and anger. Before he could raise a coherent argument, however, Merlin continued. “I couldn't kill him, but I bound him to me. He cannot disobey the orders I gave.”
Arthur snapped his mouth closed and turned back to the horizon, a frown etched deeply into his features. He saw Merlin twisting his fingers into his shirt out of the corner of his eye, finding the familiar nervous habit of some comfort as he digested Merlin's admission and what it meant. For the kingdom and the crown, it meant a great deal in terms of possible future favours to call in and the depth of Merlin's power, but to the Arthur as a man, it made him see his lover no differently. Merlin was still the same loyal and mildly incompetent servant and advisor he'd always been. Nothing would change there, not unless someone suddenly took the man and scraped out the goodness and honesty that seemed to permeate his every fibre.
Arthur reached a hand out and caught hold of one of Merlin's, roughly tugging him to his side and throwing him a smile as Merlin glanced at him. He felt the tension leave the other man's body and in turn, his own seemed to lessen.
“You are full of surprises, Merlin. One day, very soon, I'll give you the freedom to use that inheritance. No more hiding.” Arthur heard his voice as if through a third party, knowing the tone there was not that of Arthur the man but Arthur the King. He found he was not wholly averse to the way it rung in the air and grasped the small bead of hope the thought created tightly. He turned to fix Merlin with a look, ignoring the stiff surprise in his expression. He grinned suddenly, like he used to do when they first met. “Show me something.”
Merlin looked highly suspicious and tried to pull away, but Arthur kept a tight hold on his hand and did his best to look encouraging again. When the vulnerable, reproachful look didn't fade from his eyes, Arthur rolled his own. “Merlin, I could've had you sent to the block a hundred times already - particularly when you were too lazy to mend my drapes by hand.”
“How did you know about that?” Merlin asked with a flush that just made Arthur's smile widen. It was so easy to make this should-be taboo nothing worse than a secret one might keep to save from minor embarrassment and it was something he desperately wanted to do. He'd come to realise over the years just how much Merlin's magic was a part of him and Arthur couldn't refuse anything about the other man, no matter what his opinions on magic might have been.
“You may have fixed the rips but you also fixed a section I burned by accident when I was fifteen.” Merlin laughed at that and Arthur shoved him gently with his shoulder in jest. They settled for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between them easing a great deal, but Arthur began to realise Merlin had no intention of doing anything without further prompting - and he so desperately wanted to see something now. “Go on... show me something.”
Merlin glared at him briefly before sighing in resignation and raising his free hand, muttering a few unintelligible words under his breath. Arthur watched, mystified, as flame flickered to life above his palm, the fire licking up and around until thick white smoke issued from it. He slid his other hand free of Arthur's and murmured some more words, pulling all the smoke into an orb before them, the flame going out as he manipulated the thick white smoke, pulling it and shifting it. He cupped Arthur's hands together and shifted to position them below the hovering shape.
With a final word and an exhalation of breath, the smoke spun away into the air and a small glass figurine fell lightly into Arthur's outstretched hands. He caught it with a slight huff and stared at it. It was a little crystal dragon, standing regally in his palm, the wings folded and the head raised, the whole thing no longer than his index finger. He raised his eyes to Merlin, amazed, finding the other man with a serene, if not slightly sad, smile on his face.
“'No man is worth your tears',” Merlin quoted, looking up to catch Arthur's eye, “No man, save one.”
He leaned forwards, a hand curling around Arthur's jaw from the side as he pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. Arthur turned his head slightly and caught Merlin's lips in a strong, secure kiss for just long enough to feel the smile tugging at the other man's mouth. He broke away with a smile of his own and Merlin nodded slightly.
“I'll make sure something warm is sent to your rooms for breakfast, my lord.” Merlin smiled with that familiar, mischievous glint in his eye and turned to leave the wall, Arthur's laughter ringing pleasantly in his ears.
Arthur stayed staring at this dragon for a few long moments, pondering the dramatic change in his mood and attitude after such a simple interaction. He was intensely glad to have things a little further out in the open with Merlin, though he made a mental note to ask him for details of each and every time he'd saved his royal backside and let him take the credit. All sorts of occasions sprung to mind as candidates and he decided that it would be rather fun to make Merlin own up. With a sly smile, he curled in fingers around the crystal dragon and headed back inside, already wondering how best to make Merlin talk.
---
Fin x. - like it? hate it? take it out a buy it dinner? comments are adored <3
Rating: FRT
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Words: ~2500
Spoilers: all aired, just in case
Warnings: Future!fic
Summary: "You once told me that no man was worth my tears."
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine
A/N: I've recently rewatched 'The Last Dragonlord' and I've always loved Arthur's 'no man is worth your tears' line and the episode itself sparked a couple of ideas in my head - this being one of them, based around that line. I'll write the other idea up soonish (I just need to finish my Leverage Marathon, almost at the end of S2). I'm pretty excited about this fic, it was a nice little idea that took root quite firmly yesterday afternoon when I watched the ep =]
I hope you guys like it!
---
NO MAN , SAVE ONE
It had, over the years, become a subject that was avoided, a decision made mutually and silently after yet another close encounter with death. Arthur had heard the rumours of magic being involved in many of his excursions, coupled by a few too many times where Merlin's insistence that the day had been saved by Arthur's sword when he couldn't really remember what had happened. On occasion, he'd even seen Merlin's magic, through half lidded eyes or a haze of pain; times when his servant probably didn't realise he was conscious. Those times would blur in his memory as soon as he woke but they still niggled and churned away in his subconscious.
It went on for nearly a decade, their relationship evolving over the years through all kind of permutations. There had even been a stretch of seven or so months where Arthur had banished Merlin from the castle and sent him back to Ealdor. The order had been given in anger, the final act of a bitter argument that had raged for hours. It had revolved around Uther, shortly after the attack of the Great Dragon, but Arthur had pointedly forgotten the details since then and Merlin gave no sign that he remembered them. It had been an urgent request from Gaius that had brought Merlin back to Camelot, to Arthur's bedside as a magical illness raged through his system. When Arthur had woken to see Merlin lounging back in the chair beside him, the forgiveness had been instantaneous.
Somewhere along the line, they'd become occasional lovers, convenience eventually turning to adoration that only made Merlin's magic more obvious - a flicker of gold at the height of passion or a partly whispered word in a tongue Arthur didn't know. He filed away each and every occasion and kept his knowledge to himself, compiling a personal library available to only him. The snippets of magic use sat alongside the way Merlin's spine curved and the way his shuddered when Arthur bit down on his collar bone. It wasn't until dawn on the fifth day of Arthur's reign that it all became certain.
Uther had been growing steadily more unwell since midwinter and after nearly half a year of battling with his illness, he'd been confined to his bed until he recovered. He only continued to grow weaker, until he could no longer swallow food or water or the now useless medications Gaius produced. All they'd been able to do was watch until the death knell sounded across the citadel.
He was entombed with his forbears on the evening of the fourth day, Arthur standing at the head of the procession, his knights carrying his father's shrouded body in front of him. Merlin had stood faithfully beside him as the tomb was closed and the prayers were cast. Arthur had stood with his hands clenched into white knuckled fists to stop himself from clutching at Merlin, just to find some shred of comfort, some reassurance that his world wouldn't come tumbling down when he next blinked his eyes. They'd retired to bed together early, Arthur finally collapsing his walls and metal armour to be held by the only person remaining who he was truly terrified of losing.
He'd slept fitfully that night, waking up early in a cold sweat, his father's haggard face looming out at him from behind dark and torn veils. He'd clapped a hand across his mouth tightly to stop his ragged breath and dry sobs from waking Merlin, his eyes wide with fear, trying desperately to hold back the tears that suddenly seemed to flood to him. He'd not shed a single one in all the time his father had been ill and the few days since his passing. He'd kept his grief locked as far down as possible and he had no idea why it should surface now, at that precise moment.
Without a second thought, he eased himself from bed and tugged on his hunting clothes, boots and a jacket, leaving the room as quickly as possible. He didn't turn to look at Merlin as he left for he knew he needed to get out for a walk before he broke down completely in front of the man. There was only so much vulnerability Arthur could bear to show at any one time.
Sunlight was barely beginning to show on the horizon, the clouds lightening from the darkness of night to the twilight of the oncoming day. His feet automatically knew where to go and before he was actually awake enough to take in his surroundings, he was standing on one of the castle walls, staring out across what was now his kingdom. His kingdom.
Words from his past flickered in his ears, warnings and musings and sly remarks that his father had delighted in imparting to him. His whole life was filled with the constant reminder that he would one day rule over the land he lived in, but he hadn't expected it so soon - but then, so much of his life was nothing how he'd expected. He'd always assumed he'd be married to a beautiful woman and at least five years older before his father passed him the crown, not struggling to keep his control on his devotion to his male lover.
He brought his hands to his face and rubbed hard at his eyes, feeling the first of the tears break through as the real weight of his future began to weigh on him. He gritted his teeth together, determined to make no sound, but his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. He sucked in shuddering breaths through his nose and tried not to see his father's face behind his eyelids, but none of the tricks that usually calmed him were working. He didn't pay any attention to the time passing by, but he knew it must have been a good while before the sobs died down and he peered through his fingers at the streaked sky.
“You once told me that no man was worth my tears.” The voice behind him was calm and Arthur jumped inwardly, torn between yelling at him to go away and tugging him closer. He settled for wiping his eyes completely and setting his face into one of the stern masks he frequently wore. He folded his arms and glanced over his shoulder at Merlin, who was staring off into the distance, hands clasped behind his back.
“Yeah, well... he was my father.” Arthur said brusquely, turning to look out at the slowly lightening sky again. There was a long beat of silence between them, where the slight chill of the early morning bit into them, before Merlin stepped forward to stand by the wall, a couple of feet away from Arthur.
“I guess you now know how I felt, then.” Merlin's voice was almost a whisper and Arthur looked over at him in shock, the press of tears behind his eyes momentarily forgotten. Merlin shifted his shoulders under his shirt and his eyes flitted everywhere but at Arthur.
“He... The Dragonlord was your father?” Arthur's voice was harsher than he'd expected it to be and he winced the moment he'd spoken, seeing the way Merlin swallowed hard before he nodded. “Why didn't you say anything?”
“How would the son of a Dragonlord be viewed by your father?” Merlin glanced at him them, a humourless smile tugging at a side of his mouth. Arthur grimaced a little and nodded his understanding.
“You always told me you never knew your father though.” This time he was reproachful. He remembered the times they'd discussed their lost parents, finding comfort in another soul who felt the same loss, and this felt a little like betrayal.
“I only found out the night before we left to find him. My mother made Gaius swear never to tell me.” Merlin was staring off again, seemingly lost in the memories of the brief acquaintance he'd enjoyed. Arthur allowed him the memories and forced himself not to dredge up his own memories of his mother's apparition - he'd never fully decided whether or not he believed what he'd been told that night and he refused to dwell on it. The thought of the magic used that night sparked a train of thought that he decided to pursue instead.
“Did you... inherit anything from him?” Arthur asked cautiously, knowing that he was breaking some sort of unspoken deal between them. Merlin looked at him, his face unreadable before he nodded once more, a slow, considered movement that seemed to shift something between them.
“He... died before he could stop the great dragon but...” Merlin trailed off for a moment, his forehead furrowing a little as he tried to gather together the right words. “The skills needed to do the job was something passed through the bloodline, from father to son.”
Their eyes met, in a clash of defiance and resignation, and Arthur did his best to look encouraging and to reassure his lover that he wasn't about to take his head off.
“So, I didn't save Camelot with my strength and steel?” He smiled with genuine humour and Merlin looked a little dumbstruck for a moment before he returned the smile and shrugged.
“No, not really... I do have something to confess though.” Merlin said suddenly, his face slipping back into the drawn, slightly fearful expression of moments ago.
“Only something?” Arthur tried for humour again, but it struck a little too close for comfort and they both heard it ring hollow.
“I didn't kill the dragon.” Merlin muttered, Arthur's jaw dropping in disbelief and anger. Before he could raise a coherent argument, however, Merlin continued. “I couldn't kill him, but I bound him to me. He cannot disobey the orders I gave.”
Arthur snapped his mouth closed and turned back to the horizon, a frown etched deeply into his features. He saw Merlin twisting his fingers into his shirt out of the corner of his eye, finding the familiar nervous habit of some comfort as he digested Merlin's admission and what it meant. For the kingdom and the crown, it meant a great deal in terms of possible future favours to call in and the depth of Merlin's power, but to the Arthur as a man, it made him see his lover no differently. Merlin was still the same loyal and mildly incompetent servant and advisor he'd always been. Nothing would change there, not unless someone suddenly took the man and scraped out the goodness and honesty that seemed to permeate his every fibre.
Arthur reached a hand out and caught hold of one of Merlin's, roughly tugging him to his side and throwing him a smile as Merlin glanced at him. He felt the tension leave the other man's body and in turn, his own seemed to lessen.
“You are full of surprises, Merlin. One day, very soon, I'll give you the freedom to use that inheritance. No more hiding.” Arthur heard his voice as if through a third party, knowing the tone there was not that of Arthur the man but Arthur the King. He found he was not wholly averse to the way it rung in the air and grasped the small bead of hope the thought created tightly. He turned to fix Merlin with a look, ignoring the stiff surprise in his expression. He grinned suddenly, like he used to do when they first met. “Show me something.”
Merlin looked highly suspicious and tried to pull away, but Arthur kept a tight hold on his hand and did his best to look encouraging again. When the vulnerable, reproachful look didn't fade from his eyes, Arthur rolled his own. “Merlin, I could've had you sent to the block a hundred times already - particularly when you were too lazy to mend my drapes by hand.”
“How did you know about that?” Merlin asked with a flush that just made Arthur's smile widen. It was so easy to make this should-be taboo nothing worse than a secret one might keep to save from minor embarrassment and it was something he desperately wanted to do. He'd come to realise over the years just how much Merlin's magic was a part of him and Arthur couldn't refuse anything about the other man, no matter what his opinions on magic might have been.
“You may have fixed the rips but you also fixed a section I burned by accident when I was fifteen.” Merlin laughed at that and Arthur shoved him gently with his shoulder in jest. They settled for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between them easing a great deal, but Arthur began to realise Merlin had no intention of doing anything without further prompting - and he so desperately wanted to see something now. “Go on... show me something.”
Merlin glared at him briefly before sighing in resignation and raising his free hand, muttering a few unintelligible words under his breath. Arthur watched, mystified, as flame flickered to life above his palm, the fire licking up and around until thick white smoke issued from it. He slid his other hand free of Arthur's and murmured some more words, pulling all the smoke into an orb before them, the flame going out as he manipulated the thick white smoke, pulling it and shifting it. He cupped Arthur's hands together and shifted to position them below the hovering shape.
With a final word and an exhalation of breath, the smoke spun away into the air and a small glass figurine fell lightly into Arthur's outstretched hands. He caught it with a slight huff and stared at it. It was a little crystal dragon, standing regally in his palm, the wings folded and the head raised, the whole thing no longer than his index finger. He raised his eyes to Merlin, amazed, finding the other man with a serene, if not slightly sad, smile on his face.
“'No man is worth your tears',” Merlin quoted, looking up to catch Arthur's eye, “No man, save one.”
He leaned forwards, a hand curling around Arthur's jaw from the side as he pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. Arthur turned his head slightly and caught Merlin's lips in a strong, secure kiss for just long enough to feel the smile tugging at the other man's mouth. He broke away with a smile of his own and Merlin nodded slightly.
“I'll make sure something warm is sent to your rooms for breakfast, my lord.” Merlin smiled with that familiar, mischievous glint in his eye and turned to leave the wall, Arthur's laughter ringing pleasantly in his ears.
Arthur stayed staring at this dragon for a few long moments, pondering the dramatic change in his mood and attitude after such a simple interaction. He was intensely glad to have things a little further out in the open with Merlin, though he made a mental note to ask him for details of each and every time he'd saved his royal backside and let him take the credit. All sorts of occasions sprung to mind as candidates and he decided that it would be rather fun to make Merlin own up. With a sly smile, he curled in fingers around the crystal dragon and headed back inside, already wondering how best to make Merlin talk.
---
Fin x. - like it? hate it? take it out a buy it dinner? comments are adored <3