If Wishes were.... part 4
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: If Wishes were… part 4
Rating: G
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Arthur is being an arse, especially when Merlin explains how long Arthur’s been gone.
Word Count: 1447
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 488, Body language
Author's Notes: unbetaed,
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Merlin was a coward. He knew that facing bandits would be nothing to Arthur’s disappointment, but he kept finding excuses not to go back inside the bathroom and talk to him.
Finally, figuring the bath water had cooled and Arthur would be grumpy from neglect, Merlin brought him a t-shirt, boxers, a soft pair of joggers that would likely fit Arthur, warm socks and trainers.
Still in the tub, Arthur staring down into the filmy water, it was only when Merlin pushed a towel in his hands and muttered for him to get up, that Arthur glanced at him. “Are you lying to me? About the magic? Because if you are, I know I said I never wanted you to change, but this is not what I meant. Magic is dangerous.” Arthur swept his hand around, pointing at all the things he would have never seen in Camelot. “And this may seem harmless, but you know as well as I do how magic can corrupt.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I am corrupt? That I use magic to gain an upper hand somehow? By making your bathwater come out of a spigot? Showing you a self-cleaning chamber pot?” Merlin frowned down at him. “You’re an idiot if you think that.”
“You lied to me for years, Merlin,” Arthur said. “And science or engineering or whatever you want to call this, advanced as it is, wouldn’t have changed the world so much in so short a time.”
Merlin wasn’t sure he wanted to cry or yell at the prat, but biting at his lip, he said, “I know that I kept things from you. So many things that I never got to say in those last desperate days but… no, it isn’t magic. I can show you the boiler and the pump from the well. And the field drains. And… I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything else, but we should talk.”
Looking at Merlin, Arthur was silent, a long drawn-out silence that made Merlin more and more uncomfortable, but finally Arthur said, “Yes, we should.” With that, he stood up, dripping onto the tiled floor, then scrubbed himself dry.
Arthur glowered as Merlin shoved the clothes at him, but put them on anyway. He refused the trainers, though. Too complicated, he said, and Merlin let it go.
Finally, sitting down at the table, a small pasty and a few sausages on Arthur’s plate, Merlin said, “Things have changed a bit since you’ve been… gone.” Merlin looked down at the table, his fingers following the lines of wood grain there, not wanting to see Arthur’s face just yet. “We have running water and electricity and the internet, planes flying round the world, cars and the telly and-”
“What the hell are you rabbiting on about?” As Merlin glanced up, Arthur was scowling at Merlin. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“I’m trying, you know. To tell you.” Merlin gulped down his grief, rasping out, “It’s hard.”
“Just spit it out and stop being such a girl’s petticoat about it. It can’t be that bad,” Arthur snapped.
Arthur was right. Merlin was just prolonging it because he didn’t want to say it. He wasn’t sure how Arthur would react, rage or despair or disbelief. But it had to be said. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever and it wasn’t fair to Arthur, either.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin murmured, “It’s been one thousand, two hundred and fifty-one years, three months and twelve days since you died.”
The air seemed to crystalize, an eternity of waiting for the explosion to come.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You want me to believe that everything I’ve known, everyone I’ve loved is dead and gone? That Camelot is gone?” Arthur spat out.
Merlin felt miserable, but he wasn’t going to lie, not to Arthur. Not ever again. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I had expected you to return within weeks of Camlann, but it’s been so very long. The centuries… gods, it was so hard waiting.”
With every word, Arthur seemed to grow more and more horrified. Finally, he held up one hand, gesturing for Merlin to stop.
Merlin wasn’t sure what to expect, but instead of sympathy, Arthur scrambled up, towering over Merlin. “It’s not possible. You might have magic but living a thousand years? Even the most powerful sorcerers were not capable of such a thing. It’s absurd.”
Fists tight, scowl deep enough to cut through solid rock, Arthur’s whole body was shaking. “Do you think me a fool? What kind of game is this?”
“I’m not lying, Arthur,” Merlin said. He wished to all the gods of the old Religion and the new that it wasn’t true. But he’d lived it, year after lonely year, and denying it was futile anyway. Arthur would find out soon enough. “You have to believe me.”
“You lied to me for years. I thought we were past it.” Arthur turned away, shoving his feet into the trainers he’d rejected only a few moments ago, then pulled Merlin’s coat on. “Are you even capable of telling the truth? I could forgive you if you were ill and babbling nonsense, but to tell me such an absurdity with a straight face and expect me to swallow it, is beyond anything I would have thought of you.”
Merlin wasn’t sure what was happening, but fury was the last thing he’d expected. “Look, Arthur, I know it’s a lot to take in but give it a few days. You’ll see that I’m not lying. I have so much to show you. It’s been…,” Merlin said, then realised that Arthur was heading for the door. “Where are you going?”
“Back to Camelot. I’ve a kingdom to run.” Arthur snapped. “I’ve been away too long as it is.”
Merlin hurried over to Arthur, pulling at his sleeve. “Arthur, you can’t. There’s nothing left. It would be better if you stayed and-.”
“Enough. I won’t listen to any more of this. You have lost your mind,” Arthur said, yanking himself out of Merlin’s grasp. “I will send Gaius to you. Perhaps he can cure you of whatever this is. But I’m leaving.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Merlin snapped. But when Arthur looked as if he truly was about to set out, Merlin tried to placate him. “Fine, you want to go back to Camelot. Go.” His voice sharp, Merlin said, “But think, at least. It’s night, it’s winter, you’ve not eaten, you have no boots nor a cloak. A knight would be prepared for every eventuality, and you are going off without any provisions.”
When Arthur narrowed his eyes, glaring at Merlin, Merlin just threw up his hands in disgust. The prat could be incredibly stubborn at times. “Look, you arse, I’m trying to save your life. You know I’m right about leaving right now. But if you insist, I’ll take you to Camelot. In the morning, after you’ve rested and had a proper meal at least.”
Merlin wasn’t sure he’d got through to Arthur, but finally Arthur nodded, and pushed past Merlin, dropping Merlin’s coat on the floor. Again. The prick.
“I’ll leave in the morning. But I’ll go alone,” Arthur snapped. “I can’t trust you not to lead me astray.”
That hurt, the doubt in Arthur’s eyes. When Arthur lay dying in Merlin’s arms, Merlin thought that they’d finally understood each other but it seemed to be false hope. A lie that Merlin told himself as he waited through the long years.
But even so, Merlin was still Arthur’s, still born to serve a fool, to save Arthur from his own stupidity if necessary.
Trying to keep from shouting or weeping or diving into despair, Merlin pointed out, “Do you even know where you are going?”
When Arthur glared at him, Merlin pressed on. “Think about it. The landscape has changed and there are cars and roads and trucks that would run you over because you’re too much of an idiot to get out of their way. At least let me drive you there.”
Arthur blinked at that, looking confused before turning suspicious again. “Drive? I’m not a sheep to be driven to market. I will find my way. Alone.”
Merlin’s best friend, the man he’d waited to see again through the centuries, was an infuriating, condescending idiot. Throwing up his hands, Merlin snapped, “Fine. But I’m coming anyway. Just to keep you out of trouble.”
Arthur must have seen how determined Merlin was. Finally, frowning, he said, “I can’t stop you, but stay out of my way. And no tricks, Merlin. I won’t allow it.”
Nodding, Merlin mouthed, “Bloody arse.”
Arthur didn’t reply.
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Title: If Wishes were… part 4
Rating: G
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Arthur is being an arse, especially when Merlin explains how long Arthur’s been gone.
Word Count: 1447
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 488, Body language
Author's Notes: unbetaed,
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Merlin was a coward. He knew that facing bandits would be nothing to Arthur’s disappointment, but he kept finding excuses not to go back inside the bathroom and talk to him.
Finally, figuring the bath water had cooled and Arthur would be grumpy from neglect, Merlin brought him a t-shirt, boxers, a soft pair of joggers that would likely fit Arthur, warm socks and trainers.
Still in the tub, Arthur staring down into the filmy water, it was only when Merlin pushed a towel in his hands and muttered for him to get up, that Arthur glanced at him. “Are you lying to me? About the magic? Because if you are, I know I said I never wanted you to change, but this is not what I meant. Magic is dangerous.” Arthur swept his hand around, pointing at all the things he would have never seen in Camelot. “And this may seem harmless, but you know as well as I do how magic can corrupt.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I am corrupt? That I use magic to gain an upper hand somehow? By making your bathwater come out of a spigot? Showing you a self-cleaning chamber pot?” Merlin frowned down at him. “You’re an idiot if you think that.”
“You lied to me for years, Merlin,” Arthur said. “And science or engineering or whatever you want to call this, advanced as it is, wouldn’t have changed the world so much in so short a time.”
Merlin wasn’t sure he wanted to cry or yell at the prat, but biting at his lip, he said, “I know that I kept things from you. So many things that I never got to say in those last desperate days but… no, it isn’t magic. I can show you the boiler and the pump from the well. And the field drains. And… I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything else, but we should talk.”
Looking at Merlin, Arthur was silent, a long drawn-out silence that made Merlin more and more uncomfortable, but finally Arthur said, “Yes, we should.” With that, he stood up, dripping onto the tiled floor, then scrubbed himself dry.
Arthur glowered as Merlin shoved the clothes at him, but put them on anyway. He refused the trainers, though. Too complicated, he said, and Merlin let it go.
Finally, sitting down at the table, a small pasty and a few sausages on Arthur’s plate, Merlin said, “Things have changed a bit since you’ve been… gone.” Merlin looked down at the table, his fingers following the lines of wood grain there, not wanting to see Arthur’s face just yet. “We have running water and electricity and the internet, planes flying round the world, cars and the telly and-”
“What the hell are you rabbiting on about?” As Merlin glanced up, Arthur was scowling at Merlin. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“I’m trying, you know. To tell you.” Merlin gulped down his grief, rasping out, “It’s hard.”
“Just spit it out and stop being such a girl’s petticoat about it. It can’t be that bad,” Arthur snapped.
Arthur was right. Merlin was just prolonging it because he didn’t want to say it. He wasn’t sure how Arthur would react, rage or despair or disbelief. But it had to be said. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever and it wasn’t fair to Arthur, either.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin murmured, “It’s been one thousand, two hundred and fifty-one years, three months and twelve days since you died.”
The air seemed to crystalize, an eternity of waiting for the explosion to come.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You want me to believe that everything I’ve known, everyone I’ve loved is dead and gone? That Camelot is gone?” Arthur spat out.
Merlin felt miserable, but he wasn’t going to lie, not to Arthur. Not ever again. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I had expected you to return within weeks of Camlann, but it’s been so very long. The centuries… gods, it was so hard waiting.”
With every word, Arthur seemed to grow more and more horrified. Finally, he held up one hand, gesturing for Merlin to stop.
Merlin wasn’t sure what to expect, but instead of sympathy, Arthur scrambled up, towering over Merlin. “It’s not possible. You might have magic but living a thousand years? Even the most powerful sorcerers were not capable of such a thing. It’s absurd.”
Fists tight, scowl deep enough to cut through solid rock, Arthur’s whole body was shaking. “Do you think me a fool? What kind of game is this?”
“I’m not lying, Arthur,” Merlin said. He wished to all the gods of the old Religion and the new that it wasn’t true. But he’d lived it, year after lonely year, and denying it was futile anyway. Arthur would find out soon enough. “You have to believe me.”
“You lied to me for years. I thought we were past it.” Arthur turned away, shoving his feet into the trainers he’d rejected only a few moments ago, then pulled Merlin’s coat on. “Are you even capable of telling the truth? I could forgive you if you were ill and babbling nonsense, but to tell me such an absurdity with a straight face and expect me to swallow it, is beyond anything I would have thought of you.”
Merlin wasn’t sure what was happening, but fury was the last thing he’d expected. “Look, Arthur, I know it’s a lot to take in but give it a few days. You’ll see that I’m not lying. I have so much to show you. It’s been…,” Merlin said, then realised that Arthur was heading for the door. “Where are you going?”
“Back to Camelot. I’ve a kingdom to run.” Arthur snapped. “I’ve been away too long as it is.”
Merlin hurried over to Arthur, pulling at his sleeve. “Arthur, you can’t. There’s nothing left. It would be better if you stayed and-.”
“Enough. I won’t listen to any more of this. You have lost your mind,” Arthur said, yanking himself out of Merlin’s grasp. “I will send Gaius to you. Perhaps he can cure you of whatever this is. But I’m leaving.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Merlin snapped. But when Arthur looked as if he truly was about to set out, Merlin tried to placate him. “Fine, you want to go back to Camelot. Go.” His voice sharp, Merlin said, “But think, at least. It’s night, it’s winter, you’ve not eaten, you have no boots nor a cloak. A knight would be prepared for every eventuality, and you are going off without any provisions.”
When Arthur narrowed his eyes, glaring at Merlin, Merlin just threw up his hands in disgust. The prat could be incredibly stubborn at times. “Look, you arse, I’m trying to save your life. You know I’m right about leaving right now. But if you insist, I’ll take you to Camelot. In the morning, after you’ve rested and had a proper meal at least.”
Merlin wasn’t sure he’d got through to Arthur, but finally Arthur nodded, and pushed past Merlin, dropping Merlin’s coat on the floor. Again. The prick.
“I’ll leave in the morning. But I’ll go alone,” Arthur snapped. “I can’t trust you not to lead me astray.”
That hurt, the doubt in Arthur’s eyes. When Arthur lay dying in Merlin’s arms, Merlin thought that they’d finally understood each other but it seemed to be false hope. A lie that Merlin told himself as he waited through the long years.
But even so, Merlin was still Arthur’s, still born to serve a fool, to save Arthur from his own stupidity if necessary.
Trying to keep from shouting or weeping or diving into despair, Merlin pointed out, “Do you even know where you are going?”
When Arthur glared at him, Merlin pressed on. “Think about it. The landscape has changed and there are cars and roads and trucks that would run you over because you’re too much of an idiot to get out of their way. At least let me drive you there.”
Arthur blinked at that, looking confused before turning suspicious again. “Drive? I’m not a sheep to be driven to market. I will find my way. Alone.”
Merlin’s best friend, the man he’d waited to see again through the centuries, was an infuriating, condescending idiot. Throwing up his hands, Merlin snapped, “Fine. But I’m coming anyway. Just to keep you out of trouble.”
Arthur must have seen how determined Merlin was. Finally, frowning, he said, “I can’t stop you, but stay out of my way. And no tricks, Merlin. I won’t allow it.”
Nodding, Merlin mouthed, “Bloody arse.”
Arthur didn’t reply.
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