Merlin: Give and Take
::facepalm:: I thought I was supposed to be done writing Merlin fic for a while. Clearly, I fail spectacularly. This is another one of those that happened just as I was falling asleep, but thankfully writing down the title in the dark gave me enough to go off of when I sat down to write it. XD;
This is kind of cheesy. D:
Give and Take
Arthur wakes in the middle of the night, cold air against his face and a warm body beside him. Merlin is still asleep, still breathing soundly, and for a moment Arthur just lays there, breathing in his scent. He thinks about the moments, each and every one, that have brought Merlin to his side, and he smiles in the night.
But the smile is fleeting; heavier thoughts seem to have roused him from his sleep and are loathe to let him return to it. He slides from the featherbed, movements slow and silent like those of a hunter. He doesn’t want to wake Merlin. He winces as his feet hit icy stone, bites back a hiss and gropes at his bedside for a robe. On numbing feet he walks to the window and looks out over a silver-gilded tableau of Camelot. The moonlight is bright enough to make him squint, sharp enough to light the view for miles.
The land is laid out before him in stark relief, bright castle walls giving way to shadowy forests and rolling hills, to rivers and lakes and villages beyond. Arthur looks out over the kingdom and is struck, for a moment, with a great weight that settles low in his stomach. Camelot is Uther’s kingdom, but someday it will no longer be. Someday it will be Arthur’s kingdom, and he must take up the mantle and hope to be a good and worthy king.
It should be easy enough. Arthur has grown up taking everything he is. He was born taking from others; he took his mother’s life to gain his own. He has taken everything given to him: rich foods, the best clothes, the most finely-crafted weapons. He has taken the winning title in every tournament he fights, he always takes home the best kills from the hunt. He has taken every ounce of pride he has been able to wring out of his father, hidden it deep inside himself where no one can take it away.
He has taken pleasure from things he is no longer proud of - it seems so long ago that he found it amusing to humiliate others, to belittle them to show his strength. But then Merlin came, and Arthur took him on as manservant, and since then Arthur has never been the same. Things have changed, shifted from what was to what is, all the while without his notice. But of one thing, Arthur is sure. With Merlin, it isn’t about the taking.
With Merlin it’s about the giving, about the way he makes Arthur want to give of himself until there is nothing left. And so Arthur gives - he gives Merlin everything, he gives and gives until he loses himself, until all he can feel and breathe and think is Merlin, and somehow that makes everything all right again.
Merlin has changed Arthur, made him see what he could not before - that a kingdom is its people and the king must answer to them. Merlin has ignited in Arthur a burning desire to become more than he is, and at the same time a disturbing sense of humility. Arthur is one person, the same as any other. What he does with the power he is given remains to be seen, a test he cannot take until it is thrust upon him. Arthur can only hope he will have the strength to do what is right.
*
Merlin wakes in the middle of the night, cold air tickling his nose and warm sheets empty beside him. For a moment he doesn’t move, simply lays there breathing. He cracks his eyes open, searching for Arthur. He sees a dark shadow at the end of the room, a golden-haloed silhouette against the moonlit window.
He considers going back to sleep, letting Arthur be. It’s hard for the prince to get away, to find time to truly be alone with his thoughts. Perhaps once it was more common, but lately Merlin is seldom dismissed for the night. He watches Arthur in the dark, traces the outline of broad shoulders with his eyes, and thinks about everything that has led them to this place in time. He smiles.
Merlin has given his life to magic, and he has given his magic to Arthur. From the first moment the great dragon spoke of destiny he had given in, though he wouldn’t admit it at first. But then he was given this position, made Arthur’s manservant by way of reward, and from that moment on there was no more use in fighting it.
Merlin has given everything he is to Camelot, to the preservation of its Once and Future King. He has given Arthur his service and his loyalty, his trust and his patience. He’s learned that it’s no easy task to be royalty, no matter what the servants and the poor folk say - no matter even what his aching bones have said, at the end of a mindless day mucking stables. And in return, he has given that knowledge to Arthur, challenging him to rise to the call of his birth. A king is not his title, he is a person, and he must rule his kingdom as a part of it, not from above.
Merlin has given over so much of himself, and still he knows it is not all that Arthur needs. And so Merlin also takes - he takes whatever Arthur has to give, all of the guilt and the hurt and the need and the want, because he is a flask that will never be full. He will take all that Arthur has to give him, and show him that strength is what lies beyond want, beyond taking.
He sees who Arthur is inside, beneath his skin, and he sees what he can become - a king who puts his people first, who gives everything to them without thought for himself. Strength lies in giving; only when Arthur has given himself up will he be strong. And so Merlin will take all he has to offer, until he’s hard-pressed to say where his spirit ends and Arthur begins, and the balance between them is like perfection. Arthur will be a king of the people, and Merlin will be proud to stand beside him.
Here and now, the night is cold and growing more so by the minute; Arthur’s thoughts won’t keep him warm. Merlin slides from the bed, the cold of the stone burning into the soles of his feet as he treads the floor to Arthur’s side. He is not the trained hunter Arthur is; the prince turns as Merlin approaches, his features silver-sharp in the pale light, his expression opaque.
“Come back to bed,” Merlin says softly, taking Arthur by the elbow. It’s freezing outside the blankets and he can almost feel the cold seeping in through the windowpanes.
Arthur stands for a moment, looking into Merlin’s eyes reflected in the moonlight. Merlin wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have let Arthur be, after all. But then the prince smiles, slow and sure, and turns away from the window, towards Merlin. “All right,” he says; his voice is quiet and yet it seems to fill up the room. “But only if you’ll come with me.”
Merlin snorts. “I’m not planning on standing here and freezing to death!” And together the two slip back into bed, wrapping the blankets around them until they have shut out the cold, quiet world. Merlin smiles in the darkness at Arthur, and slides closer to him beneath the sheets.
Their union is a perfect balance, give and take, back and forth. What one needs, the other becomes, completing and adding what the other lacks. And Arthur may yet be a prat of a prince, and Merlin a terrible manservant, but here, together, their powers are infinite.
This is kind of cheesy. D:
Give and Take
Arthur wakes in the middle of the night, cold air against his face and a warm body beside him. Merlin is still asleep, still breathing soundly, and for a moment Arthur just lays there, breathing in his scent. He thinks about the moments, each and every one, that have brought Merlin to his side, and he smiles in the night.
But the smile is fleeting; heavier thoughts seem to have roused him from his sleep and are loathe to let him return to it. He slides from the featherbed, movements slow and silent like those of a hunter. He doesn’t want to wake Merlin. He winces as his feet hit icy stone, bites back a hiss and gropes at his bedside for a robe. On numbing feet he walks to the window and looks out over a silver-gilded tableau of Camelot. The moonlight is bright enough to make him squint, sharp enough to light the view for miles.
The land is laid out before him in stark relief, bright castle walls giving way to shadowy forests and rolling hills, to rivers and lakes and villages beyond. Arthur looks out over the kingdom and is struck, for a moment, with a great weight that settles low in his stomach. Camelot is Uther’s kingdom, but someday it will no longer be. Someday it will be Arthur’s kingdom, and he must take up the mantle and hope to be a good and worthy king.
It should be easy enough. Arthur has grown up taking everything he is. He was born taking from others; he took his mother’s life to gain his own. He has taken everything given to him: rich foods, the best clothes, the most finely-crafted weapons. He has taken the winning title in every tournament he fights, he always takes home the best kills from the hunt. He has taken every ounce of pride he has been able to wring out of his father, hidden it deep inside himself where no one can take it away.
He has taken pleasure from things he is no longer proud of - it seems so long ago that he found it amusing to humiliate others, to belittle them to show his strength. But then Merlin came, and Arthur took him on as manservant, and since then Arthur has never been the same. Things have changed, shifted from what was to what is, all the while without his notice. But of one thing, Arthur is sure. With Merlin, it isn’t about the taking.
With Merlin it’s about the giving, about the way he makes Arthur want to give of himself until there is nothing left. And so Arthur gives - he gives Merlin everything, he gives and gives until he loses himself, until all he can feel and breathe and think is Merlin, and somehow that makes everything all right again.
Merlin has changed Arthur, made him see what he could not before - that a kingdom is its people and the king must answer to them. Merlin has ignited in Arthur a burning desire to become more than he is, and at the same time a disturbing sense of humility. Arthur is one person, the same as any other. What he does with the power he is given remains to be seen, a test he cannot take until it is thrust upon him. Arthur can only hope he will have the strength to do what is right.
*
Merlin wakes in the middle of the night, cold air tickling his nose and warm sheets empty beside him. For a moment he doesn’t move, simply lays there breathing. He cracks his eyes open, searching for Arthur. He sees a dark shadow at the end of the room, a golden-haloed silhouette against the moonlit window.
He considers going back to sleep, letting Arthur be. It’s hard for the prince to get away, to find time to truly be alone with his thoughts. Perhaps once it was more common, but lately Merlin is seldom dismissed for the night. He watches Arthur in the dark, traces the outline of broad shoulders with his eyes, and thinks about everything that has led them to this place in time. He smiles.
Merlin has given his life to magic, and he has given his magic to Arthur. From the first moment the great dragon spoke of destiny he had given in, though he wouldn’t admit it at first. But then he was given this position, made Arthur’s manservant by way of reward, and from that moment on there was no more use in fighting it.
Merlin has given everything he is to Camelot, to the preservation of its Once and Future King. He has given Arthur his service and his loyalty, his trust and his patience. He’s learned that it’s no easy task to be royalty, no matter what the servants and the poor folk say - no matter even what his aching bones have said, at the end of a mindless day mucking stables. And in return, he has given that knowledge to Arthur, challenging him to rise to the call of his birth. A king is not his title, he is a person, and he must rule his kingdom as a part of it, not from above.
Merlin has given over so much of himself, and still he knows it is not all that Arthur needs. And so Merlin also takes - he takes whatever Arthur has to give, all of the guilt and the hurt and the need and the want, because he is a flask that will never be full. He will take all that Arthur has to give him, and show him that strength is what lies beyond want, beyond taking.
He sees who Arthur is inside, beneath his skin, and he sees what he can become - a king who puts his people first, who gives everything to them without thought for himself. Strength lies in giving; only when Arthur has given himself up will he be strong. And so Merlin will take all he has to offer, until he’s hard-pressed to say where his spirit ends and Arthur begins, and the balance between them is like perfection. Arthur will be a king of the people, and Merlin will be proud to stand beside him.
Here and now, the night is cold and growing more so by the minute; Arthur’s thoughts won’t keep him warm. Merlin slides from the bed, the cold of the stone burning into the soles of his feet as he treads the floor to Arthur’s side. He is not the trained hunter Arthur is; the prince turns as Merlin approaches, his features silver-sharp in the pale light, his expression opaque.
“Come back to bed,” Merlin says softly, taking Arthur by the elbow. It’s freezing outside the blankets and he can almost feel the cold seeping in through the windowpanes.
Arthur stands for a moment, looking into Merlin’s eyes reflected in the moonlight. Merlin wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have let Arthur be, after all. But then the prince smiles, slow and sure, and turns away from the window, towards Merlin. “All right,” he says; his voice is quiet and yet it seems to fill up the room. “But only if you’ll come with me.”
Merlin snorts. “I’m not planning on standing here and freezing to death!” And together the two slip back into bed, wrapping the blankets around them until they have shut out the cold, quiet world. Merlin smiles in the darkness at Arthur, and slides closer to him beneath the sheets.
Their union is a perfect balance, give and take, back and forth. What one needs, the other becomes, completing and adding what the other lacks. And Arthur may yet be a prat of a prince, and Merlin a terrible manservant, but here, together, their powers are infinite.