Bitter Absolution
Bitter Absolution
Author: echoing_seas / unproductivepeanut
Warnings: Angst, references to torture, OC character death
Rating: PG-13 (for character death)
Spoilers: Merlin 4x10 “A Herald of a New Age”
Summary: 4x10 episode coda - Arthur discusses the raid.
Crossposts: Tumblr / LJ / ff.net
“I was fourteen.”
Merlin looked up from across the room where he was polishing Arthur’s boots, “Hm?”
“When I led the - assault at the camp. You really are horrible at pretending not to be interested, Merlin. You haven’t been prattling away - trying to imagine the past instead? I -” Arthur paused and caught Merlin’s gaze before breaking it, “I’m not sure what you suspect, but I can guarantee it’s not the truth; not all of it anyway. Elyan didn’t get the whole story. In all of Camelot, only a few from my father’s council would know it, and I’m sure they’ve forgotten.” Arthur turned, and his back faced Merlin as he looked out his window, “I was fourteen. I’d disrespected my father in court the week before. I questioned his authority on the sentencing of a sorcerer. He was just a child.” Arthur let out a broken laugh, “A home in the lower town had caught fire, and he put it out. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong at first, but his arrest frightened him quickly enough.” Arthur paused, seemingly entranced by the sight of Camelot at night.
“Arthur -“
The king didn’t acknowledge Merlin, appearing to be lost in the past. “He was crying by the time the guards brought him to the castle. He kept asking when he could go home. My father didn’t even spare him a glance. He ordered the boy to be executed at dawn. I - I asked for him to spare the child, there was no harm done, after all.”
By now Merlin had given up any pretense of working, he simply sat on the floor, heartbroken at Arthur’s tale and what he guessed would follow. He caught Arthur’s gaze in the window pane and tried to convey his feelings. Arthur looked away before continuing.
“You can guess my father’s response. I should have left it, but he was wrong, and I had the rashness of youth. I challenged him openly. Said he was blinded by his hate, that no king garnered respect by killing a child. I said that I had never been more disgusted by my heritage. He struck me, then. I fell before the court, and then he ordered me to be sent to the dungeons - placed in the cell beside the prisoner. The guards took us immediately, of course. The boy was placed in the cell farthest away from the guards. And the light.
He was scared of the dark. So young - in the dungeon he cried because he was afraid the monsters would get him in the dark. My cell got a bit more light than his though, being one closer to the guards - the torches - so I had him lean against the bars that separated us. I told him no monsters could get him there. That the bars would keep them out. It was stupid -“ Arthur cut himself off, blinking rapidly.
Merlin noticed and stood from his spot on the floor, unable to keep the distance between them, yet certain Arthur would not accept any comfort for a perceived show of weakness. Merlin moved to Arthur’s bed instead, drawing the covers in an attempt at appearing busy.
“I gave him my rations, later, and told him stories - nonsense; I’m sure - to distract him from the guards’ comments. He fell asleep leaning against the bars.”
Merlin didn’t look up from the bedclothes, “I’m sure your stories were a comfort for him, Sire.”
Arthur turned, finally, and gave Merlin a slight smile when he raised his gaze. “Perhaps.” Arthur stepped away from the window and moved to stand by the fire.
“I woke him before the guards came at dawn, but he cried again when the guards dragged him from his cell. They seized me too, and took me to see my father on the rampart. He said I was to watch the execution, that I needed to see to understand the dangers of magic. When I told him I would not he said that the future king of Camelot could not be seen as weak. He gripped my shoulders and forced me to face the pyre. To the people it appeared as solidarity: the king holding the prince.”
Merlin forced himself to release the sheets, where his white knuckled grip had mussed them. He had always known that Arthur was a far greater king than Uther ever was, but hearing of Uther’s callous treatment of his own son angered Merlin beyond words.
“He held me in place with that grip on my shoulders. I tried to break away but I couldn’t…I was too weak.”
Merlin fought against the stinging of his eyes, glad Arthur wasn’t watching as he spent a touch too long smoothing out wrinkled bedclothes. “You were only fourteen, Arthur. No boy could withstand the strength of a grown man, even if that boy were a prince.”
Arthur continued on as if he hadn’t heard Merlin’s words, but Merlin saw the slight relaxation in the tense line of his shoulders. “He held my shoulders, but I - I turned my head away once the flames reached the boy’s feet and his cries turned to screams.”
The silence stretched and as it continued Merlin turned to look at Arthur. Merlin thought he saw the glint of a tear on Arthur’s cheek, but it could have been a trick of the weak firelight.
“It’s late, Arthur. We should get you ready for bed.”
“Ordering me again, Merlin?” But the words were softly spoken, and Arthur crossed the room to stand before his manservant.
“Of course. You’d get bored otherwise,” Merlin gave a quick grin as he helped Arthur remove his boots and shirt and then turned to gather the king’s sleep clothes while Arthur moved behind his changing screen.
Now fully changed, Merlin expected Arthur to head for his bed, and was surprised when the king instead turned and sat at the chair by the fire.
“I’m not quite ready for sleep, Merlin.”
Merlin nodded and moved to put away the clothes Arthur had discarded. His steps slowed as he heard Arthur take a breath and begin to speak.
“The smoke choked his screams, but he was small. The fire consumed him relatively quickly.”
Merlin paused in the midst of lining up Arthur’s boots, listening.
“My father had me follow him back to the throne room. I was still angry with him, and he knew it. He reminded me that the law cannot be bent for one person, and that kings cannot be weak, ever, before he ordered for me to be returned to the dungeon.”
Merlin watched as Arthur poured himself some water from the pitcher and took a drink before continuing. “I was put back in the same cell. I don’t know if the guards saw it fitting, or if they simply wanted to lessen the chance I’d overhear their conversations." Arthur turned and gave Merlin a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You’d like this Merlin - apparently even princes can sleep on stone floors after being awake for two days.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m always late; I sleep because I work harder than you, Sire.”
“If only you could blame your tardiness on ‘too much work’ Merlin. Unfortunately, I know exactly what you don’t do day to day,” Arthur’s voice remained soft and fond, however, and Merlin ducked his head to hide his smile.
“I wouldn’t want to lose my title of ‘most useless servant’ by waking up early.”
“No,” Arthur turned away again, “you would never want to lose your title. They’re terribly important, you know.” Merlin looked at Arthur, seeing bent shoulders from the weight of a crown discarded hours ago.
“The next morning, Sir Lionel - the First Knight at the time - woke me and took me to my father. All the knights were in the throne room. My father’s, and mine - the men I was to train. He…my father said that since I assumed to know more than the king, obviously I must be the most skilled man in the room so fighting Sir Lionel in single combat should prove no problem for me.”
Merlin hoped his gasp wasn’t audible, having moved closer to his king after giving up any pretense of work.
“In the armory, I was given my father’s old sword and shield - a parody of honor for the heir apparent. Despite what you may think, Merlin, I have been trained to kill since birth, but I was only fourteen, obviously not grown. The sword was far too long, and gods, I thought the shield carried the weight of Camelot.”
“Arthur - “ by now Merlin had crossed the room, and stood just behind Arthur’s shoulder, but the moment the name crossed his lips he was at a loss for how to continue. He could guess what happened next.
“Everyone knew the outcome before the match even began,” Arthur continued as if Merlin had never spoken, “I lasted only minutes before I lost my shield. But he toyed with me, giving me blows I couldn’t block with my size, striking me with moves I had not yet mastered. He could have beaten me in half the time he took, in the end. Lionel granted no leniency, he ensured that everyone knew - that I knew I was not yet king. I remember hoping that he’d land a blow forcing me to drop my sword, or that he would just end it so I could yield.”
“You hoped?” Merlin had noticed the peculiar phrasing, hoping he’d simply misheard.
A quiet sigh and Arthur continued, “There was another blow to my ribs. Apparently I lost consciousness. I woke hours later in Gaius’ quarters. I found out that Lionel had taken me from the field himself. I was made a fool of - carried off the field like a child.”
Merlin knew better than to tell his king that at fourteen he still was one, but he could not stay completely silent, “You fought admirably.”
“You weren’t there, Merlin. You can’t possibly know -“
Merlin moved to stand in front of Arthur. “You fought admirably, Sire.”
“And the word of a servant is higher than that of the reigning king, of course.” Arthur shook his head and gestured to the empty chair beside him.
Taking the offered seat, Merlin watched as Arthur picked at the leftover cheese and bread from supper (Merlin had neglected to return the dishes to the kitchen) before splitting the remains between the two of them.
“Gaius forbade me from training for four days. I gave him two before I returned to the field. I - I practiced for hours.”
Merlin kept his eyes on his plate, seeing a teenaged Arthur fighting in spite of pain and wounds, desperate to prove his worth behind rapidly blinking lids.
“The reports came in three days later. My father ordered me to investigate with some of my men. Sir Lionel and three of his men were to accompany us. Say what you will of my father, but he was good at playing the people of court. They saw it as a show of trust - the knights saw it for what it was: a test.
“The reports were accurate; we found the camp the next day. I watched them for hours before I planned the assault. There were families there Merlin, children.“ Arthur took a small bite of cheese before pushing his plate to Merlin, “I had to prove myself. To the knights. To Sir Lionel. To my father. When I led the ambush, I told the knights we were to take no prisoners.” Arthur paused and caught Merlin’s gaze, “Sir Lionel asked me about the children - wanted to know if I thought they should be spared. I told him that those that didn’t die by the sword were to be drowned. I sent seven children to their death, Merlin, a week after I’d fought to save another.”
Merlin reached out, laying a hand over his king’s, “It was an impossible situation, Arthur.”
“Would you have killed them, Merlin?”
At Merlin’s silence Arthur swiftly withdrew is hand, “You wouldn’t have, Merlin. But I did! The hypocritical Pendragon killed children and now Elyan almost died because of my actions.” Softer, unbidden, “How many will die for my mistakes?”
Merlin reached out and twined his hands with Arthur’s, ensuring the king could not break the grip easily. “You saved Elyan, Arthur! You saved him.” Merlin tightened his grip before continuing, “But you won’t be able to save them all. And Arthur - Arthur they die in your service. They die fighting for you because you are a fair and just king. Because you show them mercy. They die fighting for Camelot; for King Arthur Pendragon.”
“That’s not good enough!” Arthur stood, bringing Merlin with him when he refused to release his hands. “Do you remember when you drank that poison for me, Merlin? I - I told him I couldn’t stand by and watch you die.” Arthur turned his gaze to the wall behind Merlin’s left shoulder. “He told me not to look. That my life was worth more than yours - than anyone’s - that more people would die on my behalf and I would have to get used to it.“ Arthur broke free of Merlin’s hold, pacing the floor.
Arthur continued to pace even as he spoke, “And they have, Merlin. How many died when Morgause marched on Camelot? When we battled Cenred and the Knights of Medhir?” Arthur’s voice had risen during his outburst, and afterwards his chambers seemed to ring in the silence.
Merlin crossed the few feet separating them and placed his hands on his king’s shoulders, forcing Arthur to look at him. “And how many have you saved, Arthur? Why do you think your knights wear the Pendragon crest? Or your people rally to you at a moment’s notice? Why do you think I’m happy to be your servant until I die? You are OUR King! No matter your mistakes or faults, you are still the one we serve! Willingly! Yes, that means your enemies are ours, and yes, some people will die, but they’ll die honorably in service to you, rather than due to hunger or enslavement under some tyrant!”
Arthur was still, not moving from Merlin’s hold; glassy eyes, bluer now on a shocked-pale face, locked on his servant’s.
“I don’t ask them to. I’d never -“ Arthur’s words, soft and shaking, were audible only due to Merlin’s closeness.
“I know, Arthur. And that’s why we would.”
Instantly, Arthur’s hands came to his servant’s shoulders; a clenching mirror hold, “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t be one of them. You tried once and I managed to get by with help. But don’t offer your life again. Promise me, Merlin.”
Merlin gave a halting laugh and let his eyes wander the dimly lit room, “Me? Really Arthur, I barely tolerate you. I -“
Hands tightened on Merlin's shoulders. “Promise. Me.”
“I,” Merlin looked again at Arthur, seeing his king on the verge of breaking spoke words he hoped wouldn’t turn out to be a lie, “I promise, Arthur.”
Instantly, Merlin was pulled into a crushing hug, the strength reminding him that Arthur was a knight first and foremost. Merlin brought his arms around, completing the embrace, and dropped his head to the space between Arthur’s neck and shoulder.
Some moments later, gentle hands with sword calloused fingers lifted his face, and Arthur’s lips met his in a soft, chaste kiss.
Breaking the kiss, Arthur stepped back far enough to look Merlin in the eye. “Thank you, Merlin.”
“Who am I to deny the King?” Merlin returned the smile as Arthur stepped out of the embrace and clasped his right hand. “It works out since I quite enjoy living,” Merlin added as Arthur used their joined hands to have Merlin cross the room.
“Of course, Merlin,” Merlin could hear the smile.
Merlin gave a slight jump when Arthur pressed a pile of clothes into his empty hand.
“Arthur?”
“Honestly, Merlin. I know you may act like you have some kind of mental affliction, but seeing as how you gave me some earlier I thought you would recognize sleep clothes.”
“Arthur I-“
In the dim light from the fire, Arthur caught Merlin’s gaze, “Get changed, Merlin. It’s late. And you already pointed out how much you need your sleep.”
“Thank you.” Merlin stepped behind Arthur’s screen, quickly throwing his clothes and boots to the side and changing.
When Merlin stepped out, the king was sitting on his bed. At the sound of manservant’s footsteps Arthur gave a closed lip smile and held out his hands in invitation.
“You’re a good friend, Merlin, “ Arthur began as Merlin sat, “I would never - “ For the first time that night Arthur looked uncertain, dropping his gaze to the bedding. “I’m sure your pallet isn’t the softest…and I would appreciate the company tonight.”
Merlin took the admission for what it was, and stood to pull back the bedclothes, quirking a grin when Arthur moved to do the same.
Once settled, Arthur let out a quiet laugh, “I know I may be a prat, but not even kings need this much room.”
Smiling inwardly, Merlin moved until his head lay cushioned on Arthur’s chest, with hands and legs tangled.
“Your father was wrong, you know.” Merlin said quietly in the silence, “Arthur, you -“
“Merlin, I believe I said it was time to sleep.”
“Yes, but - “
“Sleep, Merlin. They’ll be time enough to talk tomorrow.”
Merlin let out a small sigh and closed his eyes, focusing instead on the comfort of Arthur’s heartbeat, letting the familiar scents and sounds lull him towards sleep.
“Goodnight, Arthur.”
Merlin felt the touch of a butterfly kiss to the top of his head, the blessing of the king. “Goodnight, Merlin.”
Author: echoing_seas / unproductivepeanut
Warnings: Angst, references to torture, OC character death
Rating: PG-13 (for character death)
Spoilers: Merlin 4x10 “A Herald of a New Age”
Summary: 4x10 episode coda - Arthur discusses the raid.
Crossposts: Tumblr / LJ / ff.net
“I was fourteen.”
Merlin looked up from across the room where he was polishing Arthur’s boots, “Hm?”
“When I led the - assault at the camp. You really are horrible at pretending not to be interested, Merlin. You haven’t been prattling away - trying to imagine the past instead? I -” Arthur paused and caught Merlin’s gaze before breaking it, “I’m not sure what you suspect, but I can guarantee it’s not the truth; not all of it anyway. Elyan didn’t get the whole story. In all of Camelot, only a few from my father’s council would know it, and I’m sure they’ve forgotten.” Arthur turned, and his back faced Merlin as he looked out his window, “I was fourteen. I’d disrespected my father in court the week before. I questioned his authority on the sentencing of a sorcerer. He was just a child.” Arthur let out a broken laugh, “A home in the lower town had caught fire, and he put it out. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong at first, but his arrest frightened him quickly enough.” Arthur paused, seemingly entranced by the sight of Camelot at night.
“Arthur -“
The king didn’t acknowledge Merlin, appearing to be lost in the past. “He was crying by the time the guards brought him to the castle. He kept asking when he could go home. My father didn’t even spare him a glance. He ordered the boy to be executed at dawn. I - I asked for him to spare the child, there was no harm done, after all.”
By now Merlin had given up any pretense of working, he simply sat on the floor, heartbroken at Arthur’s tale and what he guessed would follow. He caught Arthur’s gaze in the window pane and tried to convey his feelings. Arthur looked away before continuing.
“You can guess my father’s response. I should have left it, but he was wrong, and I had the rashness of youth. I challenged him openly. Said he was blinded by his hate, that no king garnered respect by killing a child. I said that I had never been more disgusted by my heritage. He struck me, then. I fell before the court, and then he ordered me to be sent to the dungeons - placed in the cell beside the prisoner. The guards took us immediately, of course. The boy was placed in the cell farthest away from the guards. And the light.
He was scared of the dark. So young - in the dungeon he cried because he was afraid the monsters would get him in the dark. My cell got a bit more light than his though, being one closer to the guards - the torches - so I had him lean against the bars that separated us. I told him no monsters could get him there. That the bars would keep them out. It was stupid -“ Arthur cut himself off, blinking rapidly.
Merlin noticed and stood from his spot on the floor, unable to keep the distance between them, yet certain Arthur would not accept any comfort for a perceived show of weakness. Merlin moved to Arthur’s bed instead, drawing the covers in an attempt at appearing busy.
“I gave him my rations, later, and told him stories - nonsense; I’m sure - to distract him from the guards’ comments. He fell asleep leaning against the bars.”
Merlin didn’t look up from the bedclothes, “I’m sure your stories were a comfort for him, Sire.”
Arthur turned, finally, and gave Merlin a slight smile when he raised his gaze. “Perhaps.” Arthur stepped away from the window and moved to stand by the fire.
“I woke him before the guards came at dawn, but he cried again when the guards dragged him from his cell. They seized me too, and took me to see my father on the rampart. He said I was to watch the execution, that I needed to see to understand the dangers of magic. When I told him I would not he said that the future king of Camelot could not be seen as weak. He gripped my shoulders and forced me to face the pyre. To the people it appeared as solidarity: the king holding the prince.”
Merlin forced himself to release the sheets, where his white knuckled grip had mussed them. He had always known that Arthur was a far greater king than Uther ever was, but hearing of Uther’s callous treatment of his own son angered Merlin beyond words.
“He held me in place with that grip on my shoulders. I tried to break away but I couldn’t…I was too weak.”
Merlin fought against the stinging of his eyes, glad Arthur wasn’t watching as he spent a touch too long smoothing out wrinkled bedclothes. “You were only fourteen, Arthur. No boy could withstand the strength of a grown man, even if that boy were a prince.”
Arthur continued on as if he hadn’t heard Merlin’s words, but Merlin saw the slight relaxation in the tense line of his shoulders. “He held my shoulders, but I - I turned my head away once the flames reached the boy’s feet and his cries turned to screams.”
The silence stretched and as it continued Merlin turned to look at Arthur. Merlin thought he saw the glint of a tear on Arthur’s cheek, but it could have been a trick of the weak firelight.
“It’s late, Arthur. We should get you ready for bed.”
“Ordering me again, Merlin?” But the words were softly spoken, and Arthur crossed the room to stand before his manservant.
“Of course. You’d get bored otherwise,” Merlin gave a quick grin as he helped Arthur remove his boots and shirt and then turned to gather the king’s sleep clothes while Arthur moved behind his changing screen.
Now fully changed, Merlin expected Arthur to head for his bed, and was surprised when the king instead turned and sat at the chair by the fire.
“I’m not quite ready for sleep, Merlin.”
Merlin nodded and moved to put away the clothes Arthur had discarded. His steps slowed as he heard Arthur take a breath and begin to speak.
“The smoke choked his screams, but he was small. The fire consumed him relatively quickly.”
Merlin paused in the midst of lining up Arthur’s boots, listening.
“My father had me follow him back to the throne room. I was still angry with him, and he knew it. He reminded me that the law cannot be bent for one person, and that kings cannot be weak, ever, before he ordered for me to be returned to the dungeon.”
Merlin watched as Arthur poured himself some water from the pitcher and took a drink before continuing. “I was put back in the same cell. I don’t know if the guards saw it fitting, or if they simply wanted to lessen the chance I’d overhear their conversations." Arthur turned and gave Merlin a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You’d like this Merlin - apparently even princes can sleep on stone floors after being awake for two days.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m always late; I sleep because I work harder than you, Sire.”
“If only you could blame your tardiness on ‘too much work’ Merlin. Unfortunately, I know exactly what you don’t do day to day,” Arthur’s voice remained soft and fond, however, and Merlin ducked his head to hide his smile.
“I wouldn’t want to lose my title of ‘most useless servant’ by waking up early.”
“No,” Arthur turned away again, “you would never want to lose your title. They’re terribly important, you know.” Merlin looked at Arthur, seeing bent shoulders from the weight of a crown discarded hours ago.
“The next morning, Sir Lionel - the First Knight at the time - woke me and took me to my father. All the knights were in the throne room. My father’s, and mine - the men I was to train. He…my father said that since I assumed to know more than the king, obviously I must be the most skilled man in the room so fighting Sir Lionel in single combat should prove no problem for me.”
Merlin hoped his gasp wasn’t audible, having moved closer to his king after giving up any pretense of work.
“In the armory, I was given my father’s old sword and shield - a parody of honor for the heir apparent. Despite what you may think, Merlin, I have been trained to kill since birth, but I was only fourteen, obviously not grown. The sword was far too long, and gods, I thought the shield carried the weight of Camelot.”
“Arthur - “ by now Merlin had crossed the room, and stood just behind Arthur’s shoulder, but the moment the name crossed his lips he was at a loss for how to continue. He could guess what happened next.
“Everyone knew the outcome before the match even began,” Arthur continued as if Merlin had never spoken, “I lasted only minutes before I lost my shield. But he toyed with me, giving me blows I couldn’t block with my size, striking me with moves I had not yet mastered. He could have beaten me in half the time he took, in the end. Lionel granted no leniency, he ensured that everyone knew - that I knew I was not yet king. I remember hoping that he’d land a blow forcing me to drop my sword, or that he would just end it so I could yield.”
“You hoped?” Merlin had noticed the peculiar phrasing, hoping he’d simply misheard.
A quiet sigh and Arthur continued, “There was another blow to my ribs. Apparently I lost consciousness. I woke hours later in Gaius’ quarters. I found out that Lionel had taken me from the field himself. I was made a fool of - carried off the field like a child.”
Merlin knew better than to tell his king that at fourteen he still was one, but he could not stay completely silent, “You fought admirably.”
“You weren’t there, Merlin. You can’t possibly know -“
Merlin moved to stand in front of Arthur. “You fought admirably, Sire.”
“And the word of a servant is higher than that of the reigning king, of course.” Arthur shook his head and gestured to the empty chair beside him.
Taking the offered seat, Merlin watched as Arthur picked at the leftover cheese and bread from supper (Merlin had neglected to return the dishes to the kitchen) before splitting the remains between the two of them.
“Gaius forbade me from training for four days. I gave him two before I returned to the field. I - I practiced for hours.”
Merlin kept his eyes on his plate, seeing a teenaged Arthur fighting in spite of pain and wounds, desperate to prove his worth behind rapidly blinking lids.
“The reports came in three days later. My father ordered me to investigate with some of my men. Sir Lionel and three of his men were to accompany us. Say what you will of my father, but he was good at playing the people of court. They saw it as a show of trust - the knights saw it for what it was: a test.
“The reports were accurate; we found the camp the next day. I watched them for hours before I planned the assault. There were families there Merlin, children.“ Arthur took a small bite of cheese before pushing his plate to Merlin, “I had to prove myself. To the knights. To Sir Lionel. To my father. When I led the ambush, I told the knights we were to take no prisoners.” Arthur paused and caught Merlin’s gaze, “Sir Lionel asked me about the children - wanted to know if I thought they should be spared. I told him that those that didn’t die by the sword were to be drowned. I sent seven children to their death, Merlin, a week after I’d fought to save another.”
Merlin reached out, laying a hand over his king’s, “It was an impossible situation, Arthur.”
“Would you have killed them, Merlin?”
At Merlin’s silence Arthur swiftly withdrew is hand, “You wouldn’t have, Merlin. But I did! The hypocritical Pendragon killed children and now Elyan almost died because of my actions.” Softer, unbidden, “How many will die for my mistakes?”
Merlin reached out and twined his hands with Arthur’s, ensuring the king could not break the grip easily. “You saved Elyan, Arthur! You saved him.” Merlin tightened his grip before continuing, “But you won’t be able to save them all. And Arthur - Arthur they die in your service. They die fighting for you because you are a fair and just king. Because you show them mercy. They die fighting for Camelot; for King Arthur Pendragon.”
“That’s not good enough!” Arthur stood, bringing Merlin with him when he refused to release his hands. “Do you remember when you drank that poison for me, Merlin? I - I told him I couldn’t stand by and watch you die.” Arthur turned his gaze to the wall behind Merlin’s left shoulder. “He told me not to look. That my life was worth more than yours - than anyone’s - that more people would die on my behalf and I would have to get used to it.“ Arthur broke free of Merlin’s hold, pacing the floor.
Arthur continued to pace even as he spoke, “And they have, Merlin. How many died when Morgause marched on Camelot? When we battled Cenred and the Knights of Medhir?” Arthur’s voice had risen during his outburst, and afterwards his chambers seemed to ring in the silence.
Merlin crossed the few feet separating them and placed his hands on his king’s shoulders, forcing Arthur to look at him. “And how many have you saved, Arthur? Why do you think your knights wear the Pendragon crest? Or your people rally to you at a moment’s notice? Why do you think I’m happy to be your servant until I die? You are OUR King! No matter your mistakes or faults, you are still the one we serve! Willingly! Yes, that means your enemies are ours, and yes, some people will die, but they’ll die honorably in service to you, rather than due to hunger or enslavement under some tyrant!”
Arthur was still, not moving from Merlin’s hold; glassy eyes, bluer now on a shocked-pale face, locked on his servant’s.
“I don’t ask them to. I’d never -“ Arthur’s words, soft and shaking, were audible only due to Merlin’s closeness.
“I know, Arthur. And that’s why we would.”
Instantly, Arthur’s hands came to his servant’s shoulders; a clenching mirror hold, “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t be one of them. You tried once and I managed to get by with help. But don’t offer your life again. Promise me, Merlin.”
Merlin gave a halting laugh and let his eyes wander the dimly lit room, “Me? Really Arthur, I barely tolerate you. I -“
Hands tightened on Merlin's shoulders. “Promise. Me.”
“I,” Merlin looked again at Arthur, seeing his king on the verge of breaking spoke words he hoped wouldn’t turn out to be a lie, “I promise, Arthur.”
Instantly, Merlin was pulled into a crushing hug, the strength reminding him that Arthur was a knight first and foremost. Merlin brought his arms around, completing the embrace, and dropped his head to the space between Arthur’s neck and shoulder.
Some moments later, gentle hands with sword calloused fingers lifted his face, and Arthur’s lips met his in a soft, chaste kiss.
Breaking the kiss, Arthur stepped back far enough to look Merlin in the eye. “Thank you, Merlin.”
“Who am I to deny the King?” Merlin returned the smile as Arthur stepped out of the embrace and clasped his right hand. “It works out since I quite enjoy living,” Merlin added as Arthur used their joined hands to have Merlin cross the room.
“Of course, Merlin,” Merlin could hear the smile.
Merlin gave a slight jump when Arthur pressed a pile of clothes into his empty hand.
“Arthur?”
“Honestly, Merlin. I know you may act like you have some kind of mental affliction, but seeing as how you gave me some earlier I thought you would recognize sleep clothes.”
“Arthur I-“
In the dim light from the fire, Arthur caught Merlin’s gaze, “Get changed, Merlin. It’s late. And you already pointed out how much you need your sleep.”
“Thank you.” Merlin stepped behind Arthur’s screen, quickly throwing his clothes and boots to the side and changing.
When Merlin stepped out, the king was sitting on his bed. At the sound of manservant’s footsteps Arthur gave a closed lip smile and held out his hands in invitation.
“You’re a good friend, Merlin, “ Arthur began as Merlin sat, “I would never - “ For the first time that night Arthur looked uncertain, dropping his gaze to the bedding. “I’m sure your pallet isn’t the softest…and I would appreciate the company tonight.”
Merlin took the admission for what it was, and stood to pull back the bedclothes, quirking a grin when Arthur moved to do the same.
Once settled, Arthur let out a quiet laugh, “I know I may be a prat, but not even kings need this much room.”
Smiling inwardly, Merlin moved until his head lay cushioned on Arthur’s chest, with hands and legs tangled.
“Your father was wrong, you know.” Merlin said quietly in the silence, “Arthur, you -“
“Merlin, I believe I said it was time to sleep.”
“Yes, but - “
“Sleep, Merlin. They’ll be time enough to talk tomorrow.”
Merlin let out a small sigh and closed his eyes, focusing instead on the comfort of Arthur’s heartbeat, letting the familiar scents and sounds lull him towards sleep.
“Goodnight, Arthur.”
Merlin felt the touch of a butterfly kiss to the top of his head, the blessing of the king. “Goodnight, Merlin.”