Say You'll Stay for paintedpigeon
Title: Say You'll Stay
Recipient: paintedpigeon
Author: oestentia
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: The jar itself looks old. Something he would’ve more likely seen in history class back in school instead of the real world. It’s made of delicate glass, foggy and wheatish; with a lid sitting on top. Will lifts the lid, and carefully places it on the table.
The parchment inside is relatively modern. No meat or skin for Will’s vegetarian stomach. He picks it up and unrolls it.
Dearest Merlin
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1965 words
Author's Notes: As always, I'm extremely late. A huge thank you to my beta Archer for patiently waiting for me to finish this fic. And a big thanks to the mods for running this fest this year. Happy Holidays!
Written for Camelot Drabble: Holiday Exchange Fest 2023
Disclaimer: Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Don't send us to the dungeons.
“So, what is your last name?”
Will pauses from where he’s hanging his coat on the rack. Contemplating.
“Me?”
“No, the other William that’s applied for apprenticeship. Much better manners, I must say. Yes, you of course! Which other Williams do you think I’ve been hanging about with, eh?”
“Oh, nobody really. And it’s Smith. My surname. It’s Smith.” Will starts rambling then, “I know, I know. You’re gonna laugh. Everybody does. Oh, are you related to The Will Smith? The one who slapped-”
He stops abruptly. Merlin has turned around and is giving him a stink eye-like his whole face has turned into one big question mark. Who knew thousand year old sorcerers could be so disgruntled? Maybe Merlin’s pop culture knowledge was as non-existent as Will's ability to hold a job. So, he backtracks.
“-Nothing. It’s nothing. My name is Will Smith and I’m from Pylle.”
“Ah. Why didn’t you say so before?” Satisfied, Merlin swivels and continues to putter around.
“Can I ask a question of my own?” Will’s got nothing to do, so he wrings his hands while his brain decides to play twenty-questions.
“Yes. Ask away. Not like you will stop if I say No.”
Merlin has now moved to the kitchen. Will still doesn't know what he’s trying to do or find, though he hopes he finds it soon. They still need to go over the basics of his new duties. He can also feel the rain oncoming. And this is his new jacket; he'd like to not ruin it on Christmas Eve.
He inhales. “Am I your first apprentice in a thousand years?” and finishes out in one sentence. Hah. That needed balls. Will mentally pats himself on the back. Good job.
But maybe he was too early to congratulate himself, because Merlin’s gone still. His back is stiff next to the counter, and he’s staring into a jar longingly.
“Erm. Mr Emrys? Sorcerer Supreme? Did I say something wrong? I mean I have a big mouth and my mum always says that it runs away from me sometimes. But I really didn’t intend to, I promise.”
Merlin puts the lid back on the jar and turns around. Looks at Will hopelessly. He’s sniffling. “Eh. You’re good. And to answer you, I’ve had many. First there was Gilly, then there was this young fellow called Sandro. Knew him during the renaissance. Marvellous painter, that one. Then we had Lady Whistledown and oh, I even knew most of the Featherington clan! But, they were all close friends, none of them apprentices, unfortunately. Or, fortunately for you. Perhaps you can say after all that you’re the first one I’ve taken under my wing in a very long time.
Merlin puts the jar aside and beckons him with a finger, “Come here. Keep an eye on this, just remembered something” he says pointing to the bubbling cauldron tucked in the corner. He looks out the door and into the foyer. “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything!”
“I won’t! I… promise!” Will stammers.
And that was that. Merlin’s off somewhere, leaving his jar to act as bait to Will’s prey. It was only a few feet away. Will’s fingers itched.
If Will were his most sincere, honest self, he would’ve taken Merlin’s advice and wouldn’t touch a thing. But he only does that on Christmas, and last he checked, today wasn’t Christmas. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’ll return it and plead for forgiveness. But today he’s going to let his inquisitiveness get the best of him.
Will inches towards the jar, carefully so as to not bump into anything, lest he manages to break it. With his luck, he’d actually end up doing just that, and get thrown out before his apprenticeship even began.
The jar itself looks old. Something he would’ve more likely seen in history class back in school instead of the real world. It’s made of delicate glass, foggy and wheatish; with a lid sitting on top. Will lifts the lid, and carefully places it on the table.
The parchment inside is relatively modern. No meat or skin for Will’s vegetarian stomach. He picks it up and unrolls it.
Dearest Merlin,
Inside, the elegant calligraphy sticks out to him. Must be quills. Or a fountain pen. Will keeps on reading:
I hope this letter finds you well. Your last letter arrived to me in the midst of a charity gala in Poland, therefore I’ve attached my pictures of the night for you to find and cherish. Seeing the masses during the gala, hand in hand, filled with merriment and joy made my heart ache for you. I wish you were there to see it, my love. Our love realised, at long last.
It reminded me of our first winter together. Do you remember? A hundred lifetimes could not make me forget it. We were thick as thieves, and oblivious. Your magic still a secret kept close only to yourself, and Gaius. Oh, how I longed to be in your inner circle. To be closer to you, to have a piece of your heart because you certainly had mine. The day you almost died? Arthur had assigned me to be your protector. We were herb picking in the garden when an arrow lodged itself in your chest in front of my eyes and I was helpless to do anything. I had never been more terrified. At least until you started blabbering spells in your sleep and Gaius had to tell me about your powers, then I had never been more worried.
And then you were up the next day, all healed and having a snowball fight in the citadel with Gwaine and the others. Showing not a sign of the terrible injury that threatened to take your life mere hours prior.
I’ve never told this to anyone before, not even you, Merlin-but I was enraged. Beyond belief. I had to see for myself that you were well. I needed to feel you. I needed to kiss your chapped lips. I needed something to tell me you were alive. Most of all, I needed to be the one you always came to. Not Gwaine, not Gwen, not Arthur. But me. I do not remember what came over me when I stormed into the citadel until my lips were already on yours and my palm on your heart.
The day after, you took me back to the garden and showed me your magic and I had never been more filled with wonder as I was then.
The rest, as they say nowadays, is history.
I’ve made arrangements to be home by the holidays. Shooting has wrapped up for the holidays, though I have yet to discern the day of my arrival. I hear it is colder in London this year. Cold enough that we might get some actual snowfall. We can even fulfil your wish of having more snowball fights in the garden, just like in olden times.
Take care of yourself, Merlin. I am counting days till we are together again.
Yours,
Leon
Will puts the parchment down and carefully rolls it back up. A knock.
“Coming!”
Will grabs the jar, fully intending to restore the letter to its rightful place, when he gets a bad case of flailing limbs, and knocks it over. The jar tumbles through the air, graceful as it plummets to its death a whole two feet below and shatters on the floor.
“Shit!”
Oh, no, no. He’s only had the job for a few hours now. Will mentally says goodbye to his apprenticeship as he tucks the letter into his pocket. He quickly sweeps the shards off the floor, kicking them under the sink.
Another knock. “Merlin? Are you home?”
Perhaps it’s the delivery guy. Does Merlin get delivery? Who’s even sending mail to a thousand year old sorcerer? But Will didn’t have time to mull over inconsequential things-his job was on the line!
What to do?
More noise outside. Then, “Merlin? Oh, Merlin! It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you, love.”
“How are you?” Merlin sounds choked. Kind of like what Will is currently feeling, minus the panic.
“I am fine. It’s been too long since I last saw you. You’ve got some new hairs-”
“Oh, why are we standing outside? I’ve got a new apprentice, and I want to show him off.”
“Oh, is that who you’ve been hiding inside?”
“Yes. He also does more chores than you. Or, will do, I suppose.”
“But does he love you better than me?”
“Ah, haha. Good one-” The door clicks, then opens. Will takes a deep breath. Pulls the letter out of his pocket and places it on the table.
Footsteps.
“William, I want you to meet-”
“I’m sorry I broke your jar! You and Mr… Lord Featherington?”
The pause that follows is long. Long enough that Will could probably get some tape and re-attach all the pieces of the broken jar currently lying on the floor. Merlin stares at him, then to the letter and then to the empty space on the shelf where the jar was supposed to be. Will gulps.
Then, like some miracle, “Ha! Ah haha ha haha!” Lord Featherington laughs. And, like an even bigger miracle, Merlin joins in.
“What?”
“You’ve got yourself a jester, Merlin. You ought to relax, man. Merlin here is a big softy. He only looks grumpy from outside. You have nothing to worry about.
“Nah, I wouldn’t exactly say that. That was personal. No manners! And this jar was given to me by young William himself.”
“Uh. William, as in?” Will asks.
“William the conqueror, of course.” Lord Featherington replies.
“I swear, I will…” Merlin all but gets in his face then, grumpy and even more disgruntled than before. He looks back at Lord Featherington once, then at Will again. “Oh, I suppose it was just some jar. A very precious jar. But just a jar.”
Will’s having trouble believing his ears. This is turning out to be a great Christmas eve. “So, I’m not fired?”
“No, you can keep your job. But, one more mistake, I mean it! One more!”
“Yes! Yes! Thank you Mr Emrys!” He goes to hug Merlin, who makes a face, then gives a quick hug to Lord Featherington. “Thank you, Lord Featherington!”
Lord Featherington starts cackling again. “The name’s Sir Leon. But, you can call me Leon.”
“Wait- You’re?” Will gapes. It was him. The man in the letter. Merlin’s Leon.
“I see you’ve read the letter I sent. I am. A knight of the round table. I’ve been with Merlin all these years, through thick and thin. I have his back and he has mine. I’m also an actor, though I go by Rupert these days. Mind you, it’s Young, not Grint. There is a distinction.”
Will smiles, “Oh man! I loved you in Bridgerton! And my mum’s a big fan of Larry Murphy! Oh, she’d love to meet you!”
“Well, it’s a good thing that you’re interning at Merlin’s then! I think I’ll enjoy telling you all about our youth.
Merlin harrumphs, but there is a tiny smile on his face. “Come on then, you too. Time for dinner. And you will stay for supper, then?” Merlin asks Will.
“I think so? Should I?”
“Eh, you’re good. Wash up, then. The bathroom is that way. Just don’t break anything else.”
Merlin isn’t what Will thought he’d be. And being in a relationship with Sir Leon? A Knight of the Round Table? That’s enough to blow Will’s mind. They’ve both treated him like family. And from what little Will saw, and managed to discern from the letter, he can safely conclude they really love each other. Gods, Will can’t wait to start his new job.