bbc merlin| In your hands my heart rests (Ch. 4/a)
Now that Merlin is back in his personal space Arthur feels somehow calmer, even though the thrumming under his skin at the thought of him and Gwaine still is there.
It’s Merlin who wakes him up in the morning and accompanies him to those boring council’s meetings. It feels good to sit with him in the evening, laughing at the ridiculous dress lady Helen wore at the court or complaining about the way his father always scolds him for not trying hard enough.
Still, there are moments when all that Arthur can see is the way Merlin’s Adam apple bobs up and down when he swallows, the soft sloop of his long neck or the way Merlin’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.
Those things have always been there and yet they seem to shine brighter now, to cut through him like a sharp blade, setting the ends of his nerves on fire and leaving him breathing faster and lying awake at night wishing that Merlin could be there.
There also are moments when Arthur finds it really hard to breathe, like the first time Merlin helped him dress, his fingertips brushing softly over his sternum as he buttoned up his tunic, or the first time Merlin drew a bath for him. The both of them blushed up to the roots of their hair; Arthur could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage like a hammer. He faked to need some more warm water so that Merlin would leave the chambers and hastened to dress up without even drying himself beforehand.
*
As he and Merlin go back to the relationship they used to have, Arthur has to spend more time also with Gwaine, who seems to have the unnerving ability to pop out of nowhere when Merlin is finally free from his daily duties.
Even though he can’t help hating the fact that Gwaine gets to kiss Merlin and to make him blush just like that, Arthur can’t deny that the other boy is fun to be around. He is witty and crazy in a good way and a good fighter. He notices one day when Gwaine is sparring with Leon, a boy whom he has known since they were kids and who’s beginning his apprentice to become a knight. Gwaine’s movements are fluid and precise, his eyes focused.
After the two of them stop and collapse on the grass Arthur moves closer.
“Where did you learn that?”
Gwaine shields his eyes from the sun and looks at him, a questioning look on his face. Arthur figures he has never been able to hide the weird resentment that sparks inside him every time that he sees Merlin and him together.
“My father taught me.”
Gwaine averts his gaze and Arthur turns to look at Leon, who’s wearing a concerned expression. Arthur lets the topic drop.
That evening when he is walking with Leon back to the castle after having dropped Gwaine at his house in the citadel, Arthur learns that Gwaine’s father died fighting for Camelot and his family got nothing as compensation from the king. Arthur goes to bed wondering why Gwaine doesn’t hate him when he would have all the reasons to.
The following day he stills Merlin’s hands as he is adjusting the collar of his vest. Merlin blinks, his eyes huge as he looks down at him. Arthur swallows, mentally scolding himself because he is positively sure he isn’t supposed to feel that warm tug at the bottom of his stomach when he realizes that Merlin has overgrown him.
“Y-you should ask Gwaine what he would think about becoming a knight.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea…”
“I’ve seen him sparring with Leon. He is really good.”
Merlin tilts his head to the side. Arthur knows him talking so freely about Gwaine must seem weird but the thing is that he wants to show him that he is growing up; he wants to demonstrate to himself that he can be mature even when his heart is screaming for him to hold onto Merlin and never let him go most of the time.
“Promise me you’ll talk to him.”
Merlin nods before going back to adjusting Arthur’s vest. His fingers keep leaving warmth in their trail.
///
At first Gwaine refuses but Merlin is patient. He remains by the boy’s side even when he shuts himself off, lost in the memories of a childhood without his father, in thoughts of a king that was never grateful for his sacrifice.
He didn’t deserve his life, Merlin. He doesn’t deserve mine!
But you deserve to shine, Gwaine.
*
Gwaine starts practicing to become a knight; Merlin tries not to think too much of how awkward it is to come to get him after practice and see Arthur there, his eyes hard and concentrated as he goes through the moves one time more.
Gwaine tells him the prince always remains on the field longer than the rest of them; he tells him that he thinks Arthur is going to become a great king, that he has changed and no longer is the arrogant prat he used to be as a kid.
Merlin remains silent, his heart swelling with pride at the thought that Arthur is already loved and respected by those who’ll follow his orders in the future.
///
Months roll by and the end of summer draws closer; come fall delegates from the neighboring kingdoms of Glouvia and Cerin are going to gather in Camelot to finally put an end to negotiations that have been dragging on for years now. Arthur knows that he is going to be stuck in the castle, by his father ‘s side, through all of it; he desperately needs to get out of town for a while, to enjoy the woods and the air and the freedom that is becoming something more and more rare already.
Leon, Elyan and Percy greedily agree to come with him on a hunt that will keep them away from Camelot for three or four days. Being all of them seventeen or sixteen they still aren’t as busy with training as they are going to be a couple of years from now. Of course Arthur invites Gwaine along too, they are mates, they are going to cover each other backs and even though he hates it he knows that Gwaine makes Merlin happy.
They leave Camelot on a clear and warm morning; Arthur tries to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead instead than sneaking glances at Merlin who rides a bit far on the left, talking with Gwaine.
Sometimes Arthur wonders how it is possible to feel like he has lost the biggest occasion of his life when he is yet so young.
He is grateful when Leon and Percy move to the front of their small group to ride by his side.
“I’m going to beat you this time, Percy! I swear I’m going to kill the biggest boar!”
Arthur chuckles.
“What? You don’t believe in my abilities, either?”
Leon grins under his cascade of curls.
“Of course I do, Leon. You’re going to be one of my bravest knights, I know it!”
“Hey, I thought we were all going to be the greatest knights of all times!”
Elyan’s voice rings through the warm and still air and mixes with Gwaine’s laugh.
“Don’t worry Elyan, we will! I’m probably going to be a bit more awesome than the rest of you, though.”
Arthur turns towards him, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Sir Gwaine!”
Gwaine makes a face before laughing some more.
“Blimey! It sounds so formal! I don’t know if I’ll be able to withstand it!”
Arthur grins and lets his gaze slide over to Merlin; he is smiling, his eyes two half-moons. He can’t help wondering what Merlin expects from the future, if he still remembers the time they spent imagining trips in faraway lands, just the two of them facing an unknown world without fears.
They stop a few miles from Camelot, the forest unfurls all around them, but Arthur knows that if there was an opening in the walls of threes they would be able to catch a glimpse of the White Mountains laying in front of them.
As the others set the camp Arthur leaves to find something for their dinner, Leon trails after him and Arthur can’t help feeling warmer at yet another display of the boy’s loyalty. He is quiet, has always been, but he is determined and kind and Arthur always feels as though he could tell him everything. He has always had Merlin for that, though, he isn’t truly used to open up to someone else.
Hunting has always done him good and it isn’t different this time. Blood seems to run faster through him, his body thrumming with energy as he concentrates on the prey and balances his spear. Leon is silent by his side, hand on his own spear, so different from how Merlin is when out on a hunt, fumbling and grinning and babbling. Arthur shakes his head to clear his mind from such thoughts and focuses on the deer nibbling at the grass in the clear opening in front of them.
It only takes one shot.
///
Merlin busies himself with unpacking the few supplies they’ve brought with them. It feels nice to be out with the other guys, they are a bit like family and Merlin is happy that they get to share a bit of time together because he knows all too well that his social status won’t allow him to spend as much time as now with them in the future. As Elyan helps him carrying the wood for the fire and Percy smiles at him saying that he sure has grown stronger over time, Merlin knows that they’ll always remain his friends, though, no matter what.
The sun is starting to descend over the horizon when Arthur and Leon come back. Merlin can’t prevent the small lurch his heart does as he takes in Arthur’s face; his futures are calmer and smoother now that he is free to be Arthur the boy and not Arthur the prince.
He is beautiful.
Merlin blinks and focuses on lighting up the fire.
“Then what they say about my manservant is true, you’re not that useless.”
Merlin lifts his gaze only to find Arthur grinning down at him. He fakes an exaggerated sigh.
“You wound me saying things like that, you know?”
Arthur chuckles and crouches down beside him, his hand on Merlin’s shoulder to keep his leverage.
Merlin’s lungs contract as his magic lurches forward, migrating towards the place where Arthur is touching him. He looks at Arthur and a shiver runs down his spine when he notices how wide his friend’s eyes are.
“Y-you are sure you’re alright? Aren’t you too warm?”
Merlin swallows, he is so worried that he doesn’t even realize his fingers are too close to the flames until a sharp pang of pain crawls through his palm and up his arm. He quickly tears his gaze away from Arthur’s face and pulls his hand to his chest letting out an undignified yelp.
Arthur’s hand is around his instantly.
“Let me take a look.”
Merlin’s breath stutters and breaks in his throat at Arthur’s proximity and at the way his magic seems to climb along his bones trying to find a way to get out and slip over Arthur’s skin.
“It’s…it’s nothing.”
Arthur takes his time to check the damage, he holds Merlin’s hand open, his fingers are gentle and careful.
“Go put some salve on it.”
Merlin nods.
“And you know I’m the one who’s Gaius’ apprentice.”
It’s a weak comeback, he knows it, but he needs to say something that could bring things back to normal in the whirlwind that his mind is.
Arthur simply cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head playfully.
As Gwaine helps him applying the salve and bandages up his palm, Merlin can’t bring himself to look at him in the eyes.
///
After having eaten their dinner they all sit around the fire, Gwaine is talking about a time when he and Elyan ended up locked in a cellar when they had sneaked in to borrow, as he puts it, some wine. Arthur barely pays attention, his eyes focus on the way the flames paint Merlin’s pale skin with shadows.
He hates feeling like this, filled to the brim with a longing he is too scared to analyze.
Gwaine slips an arm around Merlin and pulls him closer. Arthur notices the look on Merlin’s face, he knows he is afraid of what the others could think, but no one says anything, as Arthur has imagined. They’ve all grown up together; it has taught them to see past appearances when it comes to each other. A small smile stretches his lips at the thought that he wouldn’t be friends with Merlin if he hadn’t looked past the façade of bravado and arrogance that he used to wear when he was a kid.
As the night trickles by, Elyan starts yawning and Leon drops his head against Percy’s shoulder, eyelids dropping.
“I guess it’s time to go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll have to get up early.”
Arthur offers to be the first to mount guard; he knows he won’t be able to sleep anyway. He looks as Gwaine takes hold of Merlin’s hand and guides him towards the tent; he tries to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.
As soon as he is alone he lets his mind drift. He doesn’t even try to prevent it from trotting back to the thought of Merlin like some loyal dog. Picturing his smile, remembering the stories he used to tell him, reaching through the loneliness that had been his childhood before meeting him, is freeing and at the same time terrifying.
He doesn’t know how much time he has spent looking at the flames growing weaker and weaker when the sound of someone walking snaps him out of his reverie. His hand flies to the hilt of his sword, but his fingers relax quickly as he spots Merlin.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Merlin shakes his head before closing the distance between them and sitting down beside him. Silence falls between them and Arthur wants nothing more than breaking it. Merlin shifts on the log they’re sitting on and their thighs brush sending warmth rippling through the surface of Arthur’s skin.
He shouldn’t feel like this. He does, though.
“You…do you ever think that things have changed between us?”
Arthur turns to look at Merlin and as soon as he does he knows that he has made a mistake because he won’t be able to look away.
There are so many things he could say- of course not, yes I’m sorry for that, yes things have changed because I don’t know what I feel for you anymore.
“I do.”
It’s just a whisper and it’s not enough, but he doesn’t feel brave enough to say anything else.
Merlin lowers his gaze and panic shoots through Arthur at the thought that he might have said the wrong thing.
“Me too…I…I know it’s stupid because we’re together all the time, but I miss you sometimes.”
Arthur clenches and unclenches his hands on his knees, just to give his body a purpose while his heart is trying to fly apart.
Lifting his hand and resting it over Merlin’s feels like the hardest thing he has ever done. It’s worth it when Merlin looks at him, his eyes wide and beautiful and fuck he isn’t supposed to think these things about his best friend, but he can’t help it.
Merlin’s skin keeps radiating warmth and it makes something stutter inside of him.
“Arthur…”
Merlin’s face is all of sudden closer to his, closing off all the rest, not that he would want to look somewhere else.
He raises his hand to cup Merlin’s face, letting his fingers trace the lines of his cheekbone. He searches Merlin’s eyes, looking for a sign that this is alright, even though he shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t allow himself to. Merlin’s eyes are clear and filled with the affection Arthur has always seen in them since that winter day Merlin found him crying in an abandoned room.
The moment his lips touch Merlin’s his senses seem to shut down. There’s only warmth and the dry softness of his best friend’s lips.
It scares him to realize that this is exactly what he has always wanted, the longing always there, at the back of his mind.
///
The way his magic soars almost makes his bones tremble. It’s everywhere, a hot undercurrent enveloping him. For once Merlin can’t bring himself to care about containing it. All he can think about right now are Arthur’s lips, his hands, his warm breath.
He parts his lips and the moment his tongue shyly brushes against Arthur’s for the first time he is sure he has never felt something like this before. It sure isn’t his first kiss, but it is completely new nonetheless. It feels so incredibly right, like the fact that the moon is in the sky at night. A rush of happiness runs through him as Arthur rests his hands on his waist and pulls him closer.
When his lungs start burning because of the lack of air, Merlin tries to resist. He doesn’t want this moment to end; everything is perfect and safe right now, no one can touch them here, they can’t doubt themselves now that they are in the circle of each other’s arms.
Eventually, Arthur starts to pull back, though, and Merlin can’t do anything about it. He isn’t proud of the whimper that escapes his lips, but he can’t help it.
They look at each other; Arthur’s lips are slightly parted, his pupils wide. Merlin is sure that if he tries to hold his breath longer his lungs are going to burst. He sees the instant something shifts inside of Arthur, the exact moment when he decides he has to guard himself. It’s in the way his lips form a thin line and a small crease appears on his forehead.
He wants to say something, to assure him that nothing between them is going to change, but it would mean explaining that things cannot change because he has been thinking about what kissing his first friend would be like for months, because what seeing Arthur’s smile sets into motion inside of him has always been something special.
Arthur’s voice sounds louder in the stillness of the night air.
“Sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”
Merlin’s throat is dry, he rests his left hand on top of Arthur’s right one. His magic retreats, wounded, as Arthur slips it away.
“Arthur…”
He shakes his head and Merlin knows that whatever he could say it wouldn’t reach his best friend’s ears, not now, when all of his defenses are up.
Arthur raises to his feet; Merlin keeps his eyes focused on his hands clenched in fists by his sides, he doesn’t dare looking into Arthur’s eyes.
“Just forget that it has happened, please.”
It’s that last small word, whispered like a secret, like a prayer that gets to Merlin the most. He doesn’t say anything, simply stands up and walks towards the tent. His very bones feel heavier.
*
The following day he wakes up with Gwaine’s arm around his waist, warm and solid. Something twists in Merlin’s stomach and he feels sick. Ghosts of Arthur’s lips and words have hunted him in his dreams and still linger.
This is not as he has imagined his first kiss with Arthur would be. He wills himself not to cry; it doesn’t prevent his magic from buckling behind his sternum and his breath from getting lost in his lungs for an instant.
He has never realized how much he has wanted it, to kiss Arthur, to see himself reflected in the azure of his eyes. He curls up on himself and squeezes his eyes shut, knowing all too well that it won’t fix what has happened.
When Gwaine wakes up and presses a kiss to his cheek, Merlin tries hard to smile. If it doesn’t reach his eyes, the other boy doesn’t seem to notice. Merlin can’t help thinking that Arthur would have noticed.
*
Arthur doesn’t speak much to him during the day. At night he is the first one to mount guard again. Merlin waits for Gwaine to fall asleep and then spends hours simply looking at Arthur sitting in front of the fire from the tent’s entrance.
*
Back in Camelot Arthur seems to relax a bit around him, but he still stiffens when Merlin helps him dress or undress. Merlin’s list of duties gets longer and he wonders if that’s Arthur’s way to keep himself guarded.
He wishes he knew how to guard his own heart, because every time he meets Arthur’s gaze it’s as though something is gripping at it.
*
The memory of that night slowly begins to fade as weeks pass by. Arthur is busy with his father in the council room most of the time; delegates from a few neighbouring kingdoms have arrived and they’re going to remain in Camelot until the end of December. There are people everywhere and more often than not Merlin has to help in the kitchens and around the castle.
Gwaine and the other boys have started their official training. Merlin still has to get used to them wearing Camelot’s red cloaks.
It’s the end of Novemeber when Gwaine touches him for the first time. Merlin is nervous but Gwaine is careful and gentle. His fingers trail over Merlin’s skin almost reverently as he whispers words of endearment and encouragement in his ear. In those moments, with Gwaine all around him finally Merlin feels as though he can breathe again. It doesn’t last long, though. All it takes is for Arthur to smile at him when Merlin pours him a glass of water at a banquet the following day.
*
As for his magic it has slowly become a habit to keep it hidden; it doesn’t weight down on him as much as it did at the beginning.
The first time he has to use it to save Arthur’s life with Arthur right there and not miles away it’s a shock, though. As he sees the bandit running towards the prince his magic simply explodes inside of him, it tries to climb out and there’s only one thought shining at the centre of his mind like a guiding star: protect!
Gwaine and the others are all focused on fighting the bandits back and Merlin knows that he has to act right now. It worms his way out from the centre of his chest along his arms to the tips of his fingers. It collides with the bandit and sends him flying and crashing against a tree. Arthur twirls around after having forced to the ground the man he was fighting with. Merlin looks as he blinks, confusion written on his features.
He quickly lowers his gaze to the ground as Arthur turns around. He wishes he could tell Arthur that it was his doing, that he will always be ready to be there for him, it doesn’t matter how scared he might be.
He can’t; he probably never will.
On the way back to Camelot, Merlin wonders how it would be like to live in a different world, where the magic running in his veins, mixed with his blood, wouldn’t be something to fear and to curse, when he could take Arthur’s hand and promise him forever even though Arthur was a future king and he was a sorcerer.
Chapter 4/b
It’s Merlin who wakes him up in the morning and accompanies him to those boring council’s meetings. It feels good to sit with him in the evening, laughing at the ridiculous dress lady Helen wore at the court or complaining about the way his father always scolds him for not trying hard enough.
Still, there are moments when all that Arthur can see is the way Merlin’s Adam apple bobs up and down when he swallows, the soft sloop of his long neck or the way Merlin’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.
Those things have always been there and yet they seem to shine brighter now, to cut through him like a sharp blade, setting the ends of his nerves on fire and leaving him breathing faster and lying awake at night wishing that Merlin could be there.
There also are moments when Arthur finds it really hard to breathe, like the first time Merlin helped him dress, his fingertips brushing softly over his sternum as he buttoned up his tunic, or the first time Merlin drew a bath for him. The both of them blushed up to the roots of their hair; Arthur could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage like a hammer. He faked to need some more warm water so that Merlin would leave the chambers and hastened to dress up without even drying himself beforehand.
*
As he and Merlin go back to the relationship they used to have, Arthur has to spend more time also with Gwaine, who seems to have the unnerving ability to pop out of nowhere when Merlin is finally free from his daily duties.
Even though he can’t help hating the fact that Gwaine gets to kiss Merlin and to make him blush just like that, Arthur can’t deny that the other boy is fun to be around. He is witty and crazy in a good way and a good fighter. He notices one day when Gwaine is sparring with Leon, a boy whom he has known since they were kids and who’s beginning his apprentice to become a knight. Gwaine’s movements are fluid and precise, his eyes focused.
After the two of them stop and collapse on the grass Arthur moves closer.
“Where did you learn that?”
Gwaine shields his eyes from the sun and looks at him, a questioning look on his face. Arthur figures he has never been able to hide the weird resentment that sparks inside him every time that he sees Merlin and him together.
“My father taught me.”
Gwaine averts his gaze and Arthur turns to look at Leon, who’s wearing a concerned expression. Arthur lets the topic drop.
That evening when he is walking with Leon back to the castle after having dropped Gwaine at his house in the citadel, Arthur learns that Gwaine’s father died fighting for Camelot and his family got nothing as compensation from the king. Arthur goes to bed wondering why Gwaine doesn’t hate him when he would have all the reasons to.
The following day he stills Merlin’s hands as he is adjusting the collar of his vest. Merlin blinks, his eyes huge as he looks down at him. Arthur swallows, mentally scolding himself because he is positively sure he isn’t supposed to feel that warm tug at the bottom of his stomach when he realizes that Merlin has overgrown him.
“Y-you should ask Gwaine what he would think about becoming a knight.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea…”
“I’ve seen him sparring with Leon. He is really good.”
Merlin tilts his head to the side. Arthur knows him talking so freely about Gwaine must seem weird but the thing is that he wants to show him that he is growing up; he wants to demonstrate to himself that he can be mature even when his heart is screaming for him to hold onto Merlin and never let him go most of the time.
“Promise me you’ll talk to him.”
Merlin nods before going back to adjusting Arthur’s vest. His fingers keep leaving warmth in their trail.
///
At first Gwaine refuses but Merlin is patient. He remains by the boy’s side even when he shuts himself off, lost in the memories of a childhood without his father, in thoughts of a king that was never grateful for his sacrifice.
He didn’t deserve his life, Merlin. He doesn’t deserve mine!
But you deserve to shine, Gwaine.
*
Gwaine starts practicing to become a knight; Merlin tries not to think too much of how awkward it is to come to get him after practice and see Arthur there, his eyes hard and concentrated as he goes through the moves one time more.
Gwaine tells him the prince always remains on the field longer than the rest of them; he tells him that he thinks Arthur is going to become a great king, that he has changed and no longer is the arrogant prat he used to be as a kid.
Merlin remains silent, his heart swelling with pride at the thought that Arthur is already loved and respected by those who’ll follow his orders in the future.
///
Months roll by and the end of summer draws closer; come fall delegates from the neighboring kingdoms of Glouvia and Cerin are going to gather in Camelot to finally put an end to negotiations that have been dragging on for years now. Arthur knows that he is going to be stuck in the castle, by his father ‘s side, through all of it; he desperately needs to get out of town for a while, to enjoy the woods and the air and the freedom that is becoming something more and more rare already.
Leon, Elyan and Percy greedily agree to come with him on a hunt that will keep them away from Camelot for three or four days. Being all of them seventeen or sixteen they still aren’t as busy with training as they are going to be a couple of years from now. Of course Arthur invites Gwaine along too, they are mates, they are going to cover each other backs and even though he hates it he knows that Gwaine makes Merlin happy.
They leave Camelot on a clear and warm morning; Arthur tries to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead instead than sneaking glances at Merlin who rides a bit far on the left, talking with Gwaine.
Sometimes Arthur wonders how it is possible to feel like he has lost the biggest occasion of his life when he is yet so young.
He is grateful when Leon and Percy move to the front of their small group to ride by his side.
“I’m going to beat you this time, Percy! I swear I’m going to kill the biggest boar!”
Arthur chuckles.
“What? You don’t believe in my abilities, either?”
Leon grins under his cascade of curls.
“Of course I do, Leon. You’re going to be one of my bravest knights, I know it!”
“Hey, I thought we were all going to be the greatest knights of all times!”
Elyan’s voice rings through the warm and still air and mixes with Gwaine’s laugh.
“Don’t worry Elyan, we will! I’m probably going to be a bit more awesome than the rest of you, though.”
Arthur turns towards him, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Sir Gwaine!”
Gwaine makes a face before laughing some more.
“Blimey! It sounds so formal! I don’t know if I’ll be able to withstand it!”
Arthur grins and lets his gaze slide over to Merlin; he is smiling, his eyes two half-moons. He can’t help wondering what Merlin expects from the future, if he still remembers the time they spent imagining trips in faraway lands, just the two of them facing an unknown world without fears.
They stop a few miles from Camelot, the forest unfurls all around them, but Arthur knows that if there was an opening in the walls of threes they would be able to catch a glimpse of the White Mountains laying in front of them.
As the others set the camp Arthur leaves to find something for their dinner, Leon trails after him and Arthur can’t help feeling warmer at yet another display of the boy’s loyalty. He is quiet, has always been, but he is determined and kind and Arthur always feels as though he could tell him everything. He has always had Merlin for that, though, he isn’t truly used to open up to someone else.
Hunting has always done him good and it isn’t different this time. Blood seems to run faster through him, his body thrumming with energy as he concentrates on the prey and balances his spear. Leon is silent by his side, hand on his own spear, so different from how Merlin is when out on a hunt, fumbling and grinning and babbling. Arthur shakes his head to clear his mind from such thoughts and focuses on the deer nibbling at the grass in the clear opening in front of them.
It only takes one shot.
///
Merlin busies himself with unpacking the few supplies they’ve brought with them. It feels nice to be out with the other guys, they are a bit like family and Merlin is happy that they get to share a bit of time together because he knows all too well that his social status won’t allow him to spend as much time as now with them in the future. As Elyan helps him carrying the wood for the fire and Percy smiles at him saying that he sure has grown stronger over time, Merlin knows that they’ll always remain his friends, though, no matter what.
The sun is starting to descend over the horizon when Arthur and Leon come back. Merlin can’t prevent the small lurch his heart does as he takes in Arthur’s face; his futures are calmer and smoother now that he is free to be Arthur the boy and not Arthur the prince.
He is beautiful.
Merlin blinks and focuses on lighting up the fire.
“Then what they say about my manservant is true, you’re not that useless.”
Merlin lifts his gaze only to find Arthur grinning down at him. He fakes an exaggerated sigh.
“You wound me saying things like that, you know?”
Arthur chuckles and crouches down beside him, his hand on Merlin’s shoulder to keep his leverage.
Merlin’s lungs contract as his magic lurches forward, migrating towards the place where Arthur is touching him. He looks at Arthur and a shiver runs down his spine when he notices how wide his friend’s eyes are.
“Y-you are sure you’re alright? Aren’t you too warm?”
Merlin swallows, he is so worried that he doesn’t even realize his fingers are too close to the flames until a sharp pang of pain crawls through his palm and up his arm. He quickly tears his gaze away from Arthur’s face and pulls his hand to his chest letting out an undignified yelp.
Arthur’s hand is around his instantly.
“Let me take a look.”
Merlin’s breath stutters and breaks in his throat at Arthur’s proximity and at the way his magic seems to climb along his bones trying to find a way to get out and slip over Arthur’s skin.
“It’s…it’s nothing.”
Arthur takes his time to check the damage, he holds Merlin’s hand open, his fingers are gentle and careful.
“Go put some salve on it.”
Merlin nods.
“And you know I’m the one who’s Gaius’ apprentice.”
It’s a weak comeback, he knows it, but he needs to say something that could bring things back to normal in the whirlwind that his mind is.
Arthur simply cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head playfully.
As Gwaine helps him applying the salve and bandages up his palm, Merlin can’t bring himself to look at him in the eyes.
///
After having eaten their dinner they all sit around the fire, Gwaine is talking about a time when he and Elyan ended up locked in a cellar when they had sneaked in to borrow, as he puts it, some wine. Arthur barely pays attention, his eyes focus on the way the flames paint Merlin’s pale skin with shadows.
He hates feeling like this, filled to the brim with a longing he is too scared to analyze.
Gwaine slips an arm around Merlin and pulls him closer. Arthur notices the look on Merlin’s face, he knows he is afraid of what the others could think, but no one says anything, as Arthur has imagined. They’ve all grown up together; it has taught them to see past appearances when it comes to each other. A small smile stretches his lips at the thought that he wouldn’t be friends with Merlin if he hadn’t looked past the façade of bravado and arrogance that he used to wear when he was a kid.
As the night trickles by, Elyan starts yawning and Leon drops his head against Percy’s shoulder, eyelids dropping.
“I guess it’s time to go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll have to get up early.”
Arthur offers to be the first to mount guard; he knows he won’t be able to sleep anyway. He looks as Gwaine takes hold of Merlin’s hand and guides him towards the tent; he tries to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.
As soon as he is alone he lets his mind drift. He doesn’t even try to prevent it from trotting back to the thought of Merlin like some loyal dog. Picturing his smile, remembering the stories he used to tell him, reaching through the loneliness that had been his childhood before meeting him, is freeing and at the same time terrifying.
He doesn’t know how much time he has spent looking at the flames growing weaker and weaker when the sound of someone walking snaps him out of his reverie. His hand flies to the hilt of his sword, but his fingers relax quickly as he spots Merlin.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Merlin shakes his head before closing the distance between them and sitting down beside him. Silence falls between them and Arthur wants nothing more than breaking it. Merlin shifts on the log they’re sitting on and their thighs brush sending warmth rippling through the surface of Arthur’s skin.
He shouldn’t feel like this. He does, though.
“You…do you ever think that things have changed between us?”
Arthur turns to look at Merlin and as soon as he does he knows that he has made a mistake because he won’t be able to look away.
There are so many things he could say- of course not, yes I’m sorry for that, yes things have changed because I don’t know what I feel for you anymore.
“I do.”
It’s just a whisper and it’s not enough, but he doesn’t feel brave enough to say anything else.
Merlin lowers his gaze and panic shoots through Arthur at the thought that he might have said the wrong thing.
“Me too…I…I know it’s stupid because we’re together all the time, but I miss you sometimes.”
Arthur clenches and unclenches his hands on his knees, just to give his body a purpose while his heart is trying to fly apart.
Lifting his hand and resting it over Merlin’s feels like the hardest thing he has ever done. It’s worth it when Merlin looks at him, his eyes wide and beautiful and fuck he isn’t supposed to think these things about his best friend, but he can’t help it.
Merlin’s skin keeps radiating warmth and it makes something stutter inside of him.
“Arthur…”
Merlin’s face is all of sudden closer to his, closing off all the rest, not that he would want to look somewhere else.
He raises his hand to cup Merlin’s face, letting his fingers trace the lines of his cheekbone. He searches Merlin’s eyes, looking for a sign that this is alright, even though he shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t allow himself to. Merlin’s eyes are clear and filled with the affection Arthur has always seen in them since that winter day Merlin found him crying in an abandoned room.
The moment his lips touch Merlin’s his senses seem to shut down. There’s only warmth and the dry softness of his best friend’s lips.
It scares him to realize that this is exactly what he has always wanted, the longing always there, at the back of his mind.
///
The way his magic soars almost makes his bones tremble. It’s everywhere, a hot undercurrent enveloping him. For once Merlin can’t bring himself to care about containing it. All he can think about right now are Arthur’s lips, his hands, his warm breath.
He parts his lips and the moment his tongue shyly brushes against Arthur’s for the first time he is sure he has never felt something like this before. It sure isn’t his first kiss, but it is completely new nonetheless. It feels so incredibly right, like the fact that the moon is in the sky at night. A rush of happiness runs through him as Arthur rests his hands on his waist and pulls him closer.
When his lungs start burning because of the lack of air, Merlin tries to resist. He doesn’t want this moment to end; everything is perfect and safe right now, no one can touch them here, they can’t doubt themselves now that they are in the circle of each other’s arms.
Eventually, Arthur starts to pull back, though, and Merlin can’t do anything about it. He isn’t proud of the whimper that escapes his lips, but he can’t help it.
They look at each other; Arthur’s lips are slightly parted, his pupils wide. Merlin is sure that if he tries to hold his breath longer his lungs are going to burst. He sees the instant something shifts inside of Arthur, the exact moment when he decides he has to guard himself. It’s in the way his lips form a thin line and a small crease appears on his forehead.
He wants to say something, to assure him that nothing between them is going to change, but it would mean explaining that things cannot change because he has been thinking about what kissing his first friend would be like for months, because what seeing Arthur’s smile sets into motion inside of him has always been something special.
Arthur’s voice sounds louder in the stillness of the night air.
“Sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”
Merlin’s throat is dry, he rests his left hand on top of Arthur’s right one. His magic retreats, wounded, as Arthur slips it away.
“Arthur…”
He shakes his head and Merlin knows that whatever he could say it wouldn’t reach his best friend’s ears, not now, when all of his defenses are up.
Arthur raises to his feet; Merlin keeps his eyes focused on his hands clenched in fists by his sides, he doesn’t dare looking into Arthur’s eyes.
“Just forget that it has happened, please.”
It’s that last small word, whispered like a secret, like a prayer that gets to Merlin the most. He doesn’t say anything, simply stands up and walks towards the tent. His very bones feel heavier.
*
The following day he wakes up with Gwaine’s arm around his waist, warm and solid. Something twists in Merlin’s stomach and he feels sick. Ghosts of Arthur’s lips and words have hunted him in his dreams and still linger.
This is not as he has imagined his first kiss with Arthur would be. He wills himself not to cry; it doesn’t prevent his magic from buckling behind his sternum and his breath from getting lost in his lungs for an instant.
He has never realized how much he has wanted it, to kiss Arthur, to see himself reflected in the azure of his eyes. He curls up on himself and squeezes his eyes shut, knowing all too well that it won’t fix what has happened.
When Gwaine wakes up and presses a kiss to his cheek, Merlin tries hard to smile. If it doesn’t reach his eyes, the other boy doesn’t seem to notice. Merlin can’t help thinking that Arthur would have noticed.
*
Arthur doesn’t speak much to him during the day. At night he is the first one to mount guard again. Merlin waits for Gwaine to fall asleep and then spends hours simply looking at Arthur sitting in front of the fire from the tent’s entrance.
*
Back in Camelot Arthur seems to relax a bit around him, but he still stiffens when Merlin helps him dress or undress. Merlin’s list of duties gets longer and he wonders if that’s Arthur’s way to keep himself guarded.
He wishes he knew how to guard his own heart, because every time he meets Arthur’s gaze it’s as though something is gripping at it.
*
The memory of that night slowly begins to fade as weeks pass by. Arthur is busy with his father in the council room most of the time; delegates from a few neighbouring kingdoms have arrived and they’re going to remain in Camelot until the end of December. There are people everywhere and more often than not Merlin has to help in the kitchens and around the castle.
Gwaine and the other boys have started their official training. Merlin still has to get used to them wearing Camelot’s red cloaks.
It’s the end of Novemeber when Gwaine touches him for the first time. Merlin is nervous but Gwaine is careful and gentle. His fingers trail over Merlin’s skin almost reverently as he whispers words of endearment and encouragement in his ear. In those moments, with Gwaine all around him finally Merlin feels as though he can breathe again. It doesn’t last long, though. All it takes is for Arthur to smile at him when Merlin pours him a glass of water at a banquet the following day.
*
As for his magic it has slowly become a habit to keep it hidden; it doesn’t weight down on him as much as it did at the beginning.
The first time he has to use it to save Arthur’s life with Arthur right there and not miles away it’s a shock, though. As he sees the bandit running towards the prince his magic simply explodes inside of him, it tries to climb out and there’s only one thought shining at the centre of his mind like a guiding star: protect!
Gwaine and the others are all focused on fighting the bandits back and Merlin knows that he has to act right now. It worms his way out from the centre of his chest along his arms to the tips of his fingers. It collides with the bandit and sends him flying and crashing against a tree. Arthur twirls around after having forced to the ground the man he was fighting with. Merlin looks as he blinks, confusion written on his features.
He quickly lowers his gaze to the ground as Arthur turns around. He wishes he could tell Arthur that it was his doing, that he will always be ready to be there for him, it doesn’t matter how scared he might be.
He can’t; he probably never will.
On the way back to Camelot, Merlin wonders how it would be like to live in a different world, where the magic running in his veins, mixed with his blood, wouldn’t be something to fear and to curse, when he could take Arthur’s hand and promise him forever even though Arthur was a future king and he was a sorcerer.
Chapter 4/b