Complement (Two Halves of a Whole) Part 2 (Arthur/Merlin)
Title: Complement (Two Halves of a Whole) Part 2
Author: greymantledlady
Rating: G
Warnings: Just hurt/comfort and fluff and kisses :)
Summary: There’s a long moment where they look at each other, and Arthur’s hand is still warm and protective on Merlin’s shoulder, and Arthur has that deep serious wonderful look again, like he’s looking right inside him. And Arthur is moving closer, and his eyes are very tender and his lips are parted-
-And the door rattles, and they leap apart.
AO3: Complement (Two Halves of a Whole)
Back to Part 1
Things are different after that. Sometimes it feels as though Merlin can feel Arthur under his skin, so close, so opposite in nature, but so perfect. As though the tiny seed of each of them lies in the centre of the other’s very soul.
Merlin uses his magic, now, in Arthur’s sight; little bits here and there, the lighting of a candle, the warming of a jug of water. The first time, Arthur looks at him with a white face, and then grabs him and pushes him into a chair and lectures him for a long time about being reckless and stupid and endangering himself.
‘Can I not do magic in front of you, then?’ Merlin asks quietly, when Arthur pauses for breath; and Arthur groans and closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair.
‘You’re going to turn my hair grey with worrying about you,’ he says in a low voice.
After a moment he reaches out and takes Merlin’s shoulder in a warm grasp, giving it little shakes to punctuate his words. ‘You can do magic when you’re with me, alone, with the door locked. Only then. And I warn you, Merlin, if I hear or see even a hint - a whisper - of reckless behaviour from you, I will make you sorry - you - were - ever - born. Am I understood?’
His face is implacable. Merlin swallows and meets his eyes. ‘I understand,’ he says meekly, and Arthur relaxes a little. There’s a long moment where they look at each other, and Arthur’s hand is still warm and protective on Merlin’s shoulder, and Arthur has that deep serious wonderful look again, like he’s looking right inside him. And Arthur is moving closer, and his eyes are very tender and his lips are parted-
And the door rattles, and they leap apart. Merlin’s shaking all over, and he twines his fingers together and looks pleadingly at Arthur, who’s smiling rather ruefully. ‘You look like a startled deer, Merlin,’ he says, and touches Merlin’s face very briefly with his hand. ‘You’d better go for now.’
Merlin quivers, and goes, peeping back at Arthur when he reaches the door. Arthur’s just standing, watching him, his eyes warm and soft, and smiling a very little bit.
Merlin takes a deep breath, and flees.
~
Merlin is innocent, and gentle, and very idiotic, for all his magic.
Arthur loves him. He has known it since Merlin had looked at him with tear-wet eyes in the forest, his face tipped up to be dried off. Perhaps even before that, when Merlin had slipped from his horse and waited in terror for Arthur’s judgement, and Arthur had known that if Merlin were to die, Arthur might as well jump into the flames to join him. Because a life without Merlin in it was unthinkable.
Arthur is honourable and chivalrous, a knight of Camelot, although perhaps not quite so innocent. Merlin must not be scared, or made to get the wrong idea; Merlin deserves more than to be Arthur’s secret in the dark, to be put aside when the next visiting princess or political match arrives in Camelot.
(When Arthur is King, he can change things, if Merlin wants it. He has a vague idea of marriage, or some sort of equivalent union. He’s not sure what precedent there is, but there must be something, and if there’s not, he’ll make something.)
Perhaps it had been the wrong time, before. Merlin had been frightened, perhaps; he had certainly been shaking, beneath Arthur’s hand. Next time must be better.
So Arthur plans it all very carefully. He does nothing more than smile at Merlin, and ruffle his hair, the next time he sees him, though Merlin keeps shooting him little wistful glances that make hope rise up high in Arthur’s throat.
But when Merlin’s finished his tasks (adorably clumsy and flustered, because Arthur’s been watching him) and turns to leave the room, Arthur stands up and stops him with a hand on his arm. Merlin’s cheeks are flushed pink and his lips are quivering; it’s all Arthur can do to stop himself from kissing him then and there.
But Merlin is an innocent baby, and deserves for this to be done properly. Arthur caresses his arm, a very little bit, with his thumb. ‘Merlin,’ he says, ‘I wish to go riding in the forest tomorrow. Will you come with me?’
Merlin looks at him with wide startled blue eyes, because Arthur, it must be admitted, has never really asked Merlin to accompany him anywhere, just ordered it or assumed that he would be there. Arthur holds his eyes with his own, smiling slightly, and Merlin swallows. ‘Yes,’ he whispers.
~
They go riding, and Merlin’s so jittery and jumpy that it’s a wonder he doesn’t spook his horse. Arthur decides not to take them too far, because Merlin looks like he might bolt at any moment.
‘Do you like this?’ Arthur asks, and Merlin bites his lip and nods, looking rather as though Arthur has grown an extra head.
They dismount, and tie up the horses - at least Arthur ties up his horse, and then looks over at Merlin, and Merlin’s head is bowed over the straps and he seems to be having trouble. Arthur moves up behind him, and says ‘Need some help?’ in his ear, and Merlin jumps violently and swings around.
‘No! I mean, no - yes!’ he stutters, and then says desperately, ‘Why are you acting like this?’
‘Like what?’ Arthur asks.
‘Like - like you’re under - some sort of spell!’ Merlin blurts, and he looks upset and worried, his brow furrowed up and his fingers twisting and pulling in his own hair.
Ah. Arthur begins to understand. ‘Has that happened before?’ he asks.
‘Yes!’ Merlin says miserably, ‘and you’re acting weird and too nice and not insulting me or ordering me about - and - and I don’t know what to think.’
‘Not ordering you about?’ Arthur says lightly. ‘Or insulting you? Well, then. Merlin, you suspiciously minded idiot, I’m ordering you to sit down here, right now, and shut up and listen while I talk some sense into your thick skull.’ He waits, watching Merlin’s face.
Merlin makes a funny little sound. It might be a sob, but it probably isn’t, because he’s starting to smile, joyful and relieved, and the smile spreads all the way to his eyes and his adorable ears.
Arthur ties up his horse for him, shaking his head at the tangle Merlin’s made of it all. Then they sit down together on the soft pine-needled patch that Arthur has chosen; and Merlin hugs his knees to his chest and smiles happily at Arthur over the top of them.
‘Now,’ Arthur says. ‘I suppose you think I’m under a love spell. I assure you that I’m not. My head’s clear, there are no gaps in my memories and I still think you’re the worst manservant I’ve ever had. I was merely trying to be nice, but it has become obvious that you’re seriously disturbed and enjoy being insulted.’
Merlin’s face is an adorable combination of delighted and confused; he’s flushing and looking down at his knees, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Then he peeps at Arthur from under his eyelashes, and says softly, ‘Prat!’
Arthur wants to reach for him, so badly. Perhaps Merlin isn’t the only one who’s seriously disturbed, because Arthur thinks that he rather likes being insulted by Merlin, too. They smile at each other, and then Arthur remembers something, and jumps up, pointing a finger at Merlin. ‘Stay there.’
He’s back in half a minute, holding his hand behind his back. ‘Part of the reason I chose this spot,’ he says, ‘was this.’
Merlin looks at him inquiringly, and Arthur grins and proffers the blue periwinkle he’s holding in his hand. ‘I want to give you flowers,’ he says quietly.
There’s a long pause, and then Merlin - Merlin is pressing his knuckles into his mouth, hard, and blinking rapidly, and sniffing; and Arthur reaches for him.
And Merlin is scrambling and coming to him as though he belongs there, nestling into Arthur’s chest and flinging his arms around his neck. It’s like all the other times they’ve held each other, and yet different, gentler. Waves of tenderness are rolling over Arthur, and Merlin keeps sniffling, and there are tears on his face.
Arthur cradles Merlin’s head, and places the periwinkle at his neck, tucked in the folds of the red scarf. And then - and then, Merlin’s face is close, and his lips are soft, so soft; and Arthur leans forward and kisses him.
It’s incredible, and amazing, and worthy of a love song that Arthur has no capability at all to write. Merlin’s quivering in his arms, making little contented sobbing noises, and his lips are even softer than Arthur had imagined, and trembling against Arthur’s own. Arthur kisses away the doubt, and the worry, and the fear of Merlin’s magic being discovered; he kisses away the ache of Merlin’s long-kept secrets.
And he kisses Merlin because he loves him, and he always will love him, and they belong together, like two opposite halves of a whole being. And the kiss is a promise between them.
~
‘I want you to marry me,’ Arthur says. They’ve just broken the kiss, and Merlin’s in a dizzy euphoric daze, half-lying against Arthur’s chest, which is warm and comforting and blessedly solid. Arthur’s arms are strong and reassuring around him, and Merlin snuggles into them, and Arthur laughs softly. ‘You’re an innocent little baby, aren’t you?’ he says.
Really, that’s going too far. Merlin’s tongue feels heavy and slow, but he manages to murmur, ‘I am not.’
‘Of course you are,’ Arthur says firmly. ‘Will you marry me?’
‘Is that - even possible?’ Merlin asks sleepily, frowning.
‘It will be,’ Arthur says, and there’s that mulish, implacable look again, the one that says that Arthur will have his sweet way, if he has to turn half the world to fire to do so. ‘It will be, when I am King. I promise you, Merlin.’ He pauses, and looks into Merlin’s eyes. ‘You’re not going to be my secret in the dark. I’m going to marry you, or nothing.’
Merlin’s heart feels full and light, like it’s going to burst out of his chest; and he turns his face into Arthur’s neck and rubs his nose softly against the skin there, smelling Arthur’s nice warm safe Arthur-smell.
‘I sometimes - sometimes wondered if, if all that honour and chivalry stuff was really true to you knights,’ he says, rather unsteadily, into the hollow of Arthur’s neck, and feels Arthur bend his head to listen. ‘I guess it is. To you.’
Arthur’s hand smoothes up and down his back, gentle. ‘It is,’ he says firmly.
~
They go back to Camelot, and to anyone else’s eyes go on as they always have, the Crown Prince and his manservant.
Except now there are long soft glances between them, and lingering touches that they can’t quite hold back when they’re in public. And in Arthur’s rooms, behind the barred door, there are sometimes long sweet kisses, and sometimes gentle nestling embraces that go on, and on, and on, and give both of them strength to carry on with everything, day after day.
~
Sometimes, Arthur falls into a black mood. ‘This will drive me out of my mind,’ he mumbles into Merlin’s neck. ‘This hiding. Lying.’
They’re cuddled up in a pile of blankets by the window, watching rain drip coldly off the stone, and Arthur’s expression has been tight and drawn all day. Merlin runs gentle sure fingers over his face, smoothing out the wrinkles in Arthur’s forehead, running his hands through Arthur’s soft hair. ‘Shh,’ he says, and pulls Arthur in closer to kiss his temple softly. ‘Don’t be a dollophead.’
That makes Arthur grin a little bit. ‘That’s not even a word, Merlin.’ He shifts round a bit, disturbing Merlin, who’s nuzzling his cheek like a baby deer, and takes Merlin’s chin tenderly, and kisses him.
~
Sometimes it’s Merlin who goes quiet and miserable, and it takes a lot of coaxing from Arthur before he will talk it out with him.
‘Come on,’ says Arthur gently, after a dismal morning of council meetings, where Merlin has had to stand quietly behind Arthur’s chair and listen to the King outline new plans for the suppression of scattered magic users, and drop veiled hints about ‘strategic alliances’ with one eye on Arthur.
‘Merlin.’ Arthur bolts the door behind them and reaches out; Merlin’s stiff and chilled and taut, like a spear of ice. ‘Oh, come here.’
He wraps warm strong arms around Merlin, and for a moment Merlin stays rigid and unbending. The next, he’s shuddering and melting and grabbing onto Arthur’s shirt as though he wants to burrow into his chest, and Arthur holds him and makes small soothing sounds and rocks him a little to calm him.
‘I’m sorry, so sorry. It won’t always be like this,’ he murmurs against Merlin’s dark hair.
‘I know,’ Merlin mumbles into his shoulder, and they hold on to each other for a long quietening moment. And their lips seek each other and meet softly, and everything seems somehow brighter, though the sky is misty grey outside the window.
~
Other times, lovely times, they sit together in the sun, and laugh and tease and talk about all the things they’ll do, one day, together.
Arthur finds that Merlin wants children, someday, and also that he blushes most adorably when Arthur brings the subject up. They end up wrestling on the grass over it, which inevitably leads to Arthur pinning Merlin helpless beneath his body while Merlin fires breathless laughing insults at him, the both of them surrounded by a happy haze.
Merlin, for his part, coaxes out Arthur’s dreams of ruling with Merlin as his Consort and Court Warlock at his side, and it takes a little while for him to become accustomed to the thought of such worryingly high rank. ‘But Arthur! I’ve no idea how to act like a - a Consort or anything! And what kind of awful clothes will I have to wear?’
Arthur’s eyes gleam.
‘Oh, no,’ Merlin says warningly. ‘Oh, no, you don’t, you prat.’
‘Oh, yes, I do,’ Arthur says in a voice of soft velvet; and he drowns Merlin’s objections in another kiss, one that leaves Merlin dizzy and happy and incoherent and quite unable to form any more protests or defy Arthur’s authority in any way.
And so they build their shining dream-castles in the air, for the future and the kingdom they’ll make together. King and warlock, sun and moon, night and day - two halves of a whole, complete, connected, in complement.
And hope is in the very air they breathe, and a promise.
~
Next: Part 3
greymantledlady's fic masterlist
Author: greymantledlady
Rating: G
Warnings: Just hurt/comfort and fluff and kisses :)
Summary: There’s a long moment where they look at each other, and Arthur’s hand is still warm and protective on Merlin’s shoulder, and Arthur has that deep serious wonderful look again, like he’s looking right inside him. And Arthur is moving closer, and his eyes are very tender and his lips are parted-
-And the door rattles, and they leap apart.
AO3: Complement (Two Halves of a Whole)
Back to Part 1
Things are different after that. Sometimes it feels as though Merlin can feel Arthur under his skin, so close, so opposite in nature, but so perfect. As though the tiny seed of each of them lies in the centre of the other’s very soul.
Merlin uses his magic, now, in Arthur’s sight; little bits here and there, the lighting of a candle, the warming of a jug of water. The first time, Arthur looks at him with a white face, and then grabs him and pushes him into a chair and lectures him for a long time about being reckless and stupid and endangering himself.
‘Can I not do magic in front of you, then?’ Merlin asks quietly, when Arthur pauses for breath; and Arthur groans and closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair.
‘You’re going to turn my hair grey with worrying about you,’ he says in a low voice.
After a moment he reaches out and takes Merlin’s shoulder in a warm grasp, giving it little shakes to punctuate his words. ‘You can do magic when you’re with me, alone, with the door locked. Only then. And I warn you, Merlin, if I hear or see even a hint - a whisper - of reckless behaviour from you, I will make you sorry - you - were - ever - born. Am I understood?’
His face is implacable. Merlin swallows and meets his eyes. ‘I understand,’ he says meekly, and Arthur relaxes a little. There’s a long moment where they look at each other, and Arthur’s hand is still warm and protective on Merlin’s shoulder, and Arthur has that deep serious wonderful look again, like he’s looking right inside him. And Arthur is moving closer, and his eyes are very tender and his lips are parted-
And the door rattles, and they leap apart. Merlin’s shaking all over, and he twines his fingers together and looks pleadingly at Arthur, who’s smiling rather ruefully. ‘You look like a startled deer, Merlin,’ he says, and touches Merlin’s face very briefly with his hand. ‘You’d better go for now.’
Merlin quivers, and goes, peeping back at Arthur when he reaches the door. Arthur’s just standing, watching him, his eyes warm and soft, and smiling a very little bit.
Merlin takes a deep breath, and flees.
~
Merlin is innocent, and gentle, and very idiotic, for all his magic.
Arthur loves him. He has known it since Merlin had looked at him with tear-wet eyes in the forest, his face tipped up to be dried off. Perhaps even before that, when Merlin had slipped from his horse and waited in terror for Arthur’s judgement, and Arthur had known that if Merlin were to die, Arthur might as well jump into the flames to join him. Because a life without Merlin in it was unthinkable.
Arthur is honourable and chivalrous, a knight of Camelot, although perhaps not quite so innocent. Merlin must not be scared, or made to get the wrong idea; Merlin deserves more than to be Arthur’s secret in the dark, to be put aside when the next visiting princess or political match arrives in Camelot.
(When Arthur is King, he can change things, if Merlin wants it. He has a vague idea of marriage, or some sort of equivalent union. He’s not sure what precedent there is, but there must be something, and if there’s not, he’ll make something.)
Perhaps it had been the wrong time, before. Merlin had been frightened, perhaps; he had certainly been shaking, beneath Arthur’s hand. Next time must be better.
So Arthur plans it all very carefully. He does nothing more than smile at Merlin, and ruffle his hair, the next time he sees him, though Merlin keeps shooting him little wistful glances that make hope rise up high in Arthur’s throat.
But when Merlin’s finished his tasks (adorably clumsy and flustered, because Arthur’s been watching him) and turns to leave the room, Arthur stands up and stops him with a hand on his arm. Merlin’s cheeks are flushed pink and his lips are quivering; it’s all Arthur can do to stop himself from kissing him then and there.
But Merlin is an innocent baby, and deserves for this to be done properly. Arthur caresses his arm, a very little bit, with his thumb. ‘Merlin,’ he says, ‘I wish to go riding in the forest tomorrow. Will you come with me?’
Merlin looks at him with wide startled blue eyes, because Arthur, it must be admitted, has never really asked Merlin to accompany him anywhere, just ordered it or assumed that he would be there. Arthur holds his eyes with his own, smiling slightly, and Merlin swallows. ‘Yes,’ he whispers.
~
They go riding, and Merlin’s so jittery and jumpy that it’s a wonder he doesn’t spook his horse. Arthur decides not to take them too far, because Merlin looks like he might bolt at any moment.
‘Do you like this?’ Arthur asks, and Merlin bites his lip and nods, looking rather as though Arthur has grown an extra head.
They dismount, and tie up the horses - at least Arthur ties up his horse, and then looks over at Merlin, and Merlin’s head is bowed over the straps and he seems to be having trouble. Arthur moves up behind him, and says ‘Need some help?’ in his ear, and Merlin jumps violently and swings around.
‘No! I mean, no - yes!’ he stutters, and then says desperately, ‘Why are you acting like this?’
‘Like what?’ Arthur asks.
‘Like - like you’re under - some sort of spell!’ Merlin blurts, and he looks upset and worried, his brow furrowed up and his fingers twisting and pulling in his own hair.
Ah. Arthur begins to understand. ‘Has that happened before?’ he asks.
‘Yes!’ Merlin says miserably, ‘and you’re acting weird and too nice and not insulting me or ordering me about - and - and I don’t know what to think.’
‘Not ordering you about?’ Arthur says lightly. ‘Or insulting you? Well, then. Merlin, you suspiciously minded idiot, I’m ordering you to sit down here, right now, and shut up and listen while I talk some sense into your thick skull.’ He waits, watching Merlin’s face.
Merlin makes a funny little sound. It might be a sob, but it probably isn’t, because he’s starting to smile, joyful and relieved, and the smile spreads all the way to his eyes and his adorable ears.
Arthur ties up his horse for him, shaking his head at the tangle Merlin’s made of it all. Then they sit down together on the soft pine-needled patch that Arthur has chosen; and Merlin hugs his knees to his chest and smiles happily at Arthur over the top of them.
‘Now,’ Arthur says. ‘I suppose you think I’m under a love spell. I assure you that I’m not. My head’s clear, there are no gaps in my memories and I still think you’re the worst manservant I’ve ever had. I was merely trying to be nice, but it has become obvious that you’re seriously disturbed and enjoy being insulted.’
Merlin’s face is an adorable combination of delighted and confused; he’s flushing and looking down at his knees, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Then he peeps at Arthur from under his eyelashes, and says softly, ‘Prat!’
Arthur wants to reach for him, so badly. Perhaps Merlin isn’t the only one who’s seriously disturbed, because Arthur thinks that he rather likes being insulted by Merlin, too. They smile at each other, and then Arthur remembers something, and jumps up, pointing a finger at Merlin. ‘Stay there.’
He’s back in half a minute, holding his hand behind his back. ‘Part of the reason I chose this spot,’ he says, ‘was this.’
Merlin looks at him inquiringly, and Arthur grins and proffers the blue periwinkle he’s holding in his hand. ‘I want to give you flowers,’ he says quietly.
There’s a long pause, and then Merlin - Merlin is pressing his knuckles into his mouth, hard, and blinking rapidly, and sniffing; and Arthur reaches for him.
And Merlin is scrambling and coming to him as though he belongs there, nestling into Arthur’s chest and flinging his arms around his neck. It’s like all the other times they’ve held each other, and yet different, gentler. Waves of tenderness are rolling over Arthur, and Merlin keeps sniffling, and there are tears on his face.
Arthur cradles Merlin’s head, and places the periwinkle at his neck, tucked in the folds of the red scarf. And then - and then, Merlin’s face is close, and his lips are soft, so soft; and Arthur leans forward and kisses him.
It’s incredible, and amazing, and worthy of a love song that Arthur has no capability at all to write. Merlin’s quivering in his arms, making little contented sobbing noises, and his lips are even softer than Arthur had imagined, and trembling against Arthur’s own. Arthur kisses away the doubt, and the worry, and the fear of Merlin’s magic being discovered; he kisses away the ache of Merlin’s long-kept secrets.
And he kisses Merlin because he loves him, and he always will love him, and they belong together, like two opposite halves of a whole being. And the kiss is a promise between them.
~
‘I want you to marry me,’ Arthur says. They’ve just broken the kiss, and Merlin’s in a dizzy euphoric daze, half-lying against Arthur’s chest, which is warm and comforting and blessedly solid. Arthur’s arms are strong and reassuring around him, and Merlin snuggles into them, and Arthur laughs softly. ‘You’re an innocent little baby, aren’t you?’ he says.
Really, that’s going too far. Merlin’s tongue feels heavy and slow, but he manages to murmur, ‘I am not.’
‘Of course you are,’ Arthur says firmly. ‘Will you marry me?’
‘Is that - even possible?’ Merlin asks sleepily, frowning.
‘It will be,’ Arthur says, and there’s that mulish, implacable look again, the one that says that Arthur will have his sweet way, if he has to turn half the world to fire to do so. ‘It will be, when I am King. I promise you, Merlin.’ He pauses, and looks into Merlin’s eyes. ‘You’re not going to be my secret in the dark. I’m going to marry you, or nothing.’
Merlin’s heart feels full and light, like it’s going to burst out of his chest; and he turns his face into Arthur’s neck and rubs his nose softly against the skin there, smelling Arthur’s nice warm safe Arthur-smell.
‘I sometimes - sometimes wondered if, if all that honour and chivalry stuff was really true to you knights,’ he says, rather unsteadily, into the hollow of Arthur’s neck, and feels Arthur bend his head to listen. ‘I guess it is. To you.’
Arthur’s hand smoothes up and down his back, gentle. ‘It is,’ he says firmly.
~
They go back to Camelot, and to anyone else’s eyes go on as they always have, the Crown Prince and his manservant.
Except now there are long soft glances between them, and lingering touches that they can’t quite hold back when they’re in public. And in Arthur’s rooms, behind the barred door, there are sometimes long sweet kisses, and sometimes gentle nestling embraces that go on, and on, and on, and give both of them strength to carry on with everything, day after day.
~
Sometimes, Arthur falls into a black mood. ‘This will drive me out of my mind,’ he mumbles into Merlin’s neck. ‘This hiding. Lying.’
They’re cuddled up in a pile of blankets by the window, watching rain drip coldly off the stone, and Arthur’s expression has been tight and drawn all day. Merlin runs gentle sure fingers over his face, smoothing out the wrinkles in Arthur’s forehead, running his hands through Arthur’s soft hair. ‘Shh,’ he says, and pulls Arthur in closer to kiss his temple softly. ‘Don’t be a dollophead.’
That makes Arthur grin a little bit. ‘That’s not even a word, Merlin.’ He shifts round a bit, disturbing Merlin, who’s nuzzling his cheek like a baby deer, and takes Merlin’s chin tenderly, and kisses him.
~
Sometimes it’s Merlin who goes quiet and miserable, and it takes a lot of coaxing from Arthur before he will talk it out with him.
‘Come on,’ says Arthur gently, after a dismal morning of council meetings, where Merlin has had to stand quietly behind Arthur’s chair and listen to the King outline new plans for the suppression of scattered magic users, and drop veiled hints about ‘strategic alliances’ with one eye on Arthur.
‘Merlin.’ Arthur bolts the door behind them and reaches out; Merlin’s stiff and chilled and taut, like a spear of ice. ‘Oh, come here.’
He wraps warm strong arms around Merlin, and for a moment Merlin stays rigid and unbending. The next, he’s shuddering and melting and grabbing onto Arthur’s shirt as though he wants to burrow into his chest, and Arthur holds him and makes small soothing sounds and rocks him a little to calm him.
‘I’m sorry, so sorry. It won’t always be like this,’ he murmurs against Merlin’s dark hair.
‘I know,’ Merlin mumbles into his shoulder, and they hold on to each other for a long quietening moment. And their lips seek each other and meet softly, and everything seems somehow brighter, though the sky is misty grey outside the window.
~
Other times, lovely times, they sit together in the sun, and laugh and tease and talk about all the things they’ll do, one day, together.
Arthur finds that Merlin wants children, someday, and also that he blushes most adorably when Arthur brings the subject up. They end up wrestling on the grass over it, which inevitably leads to Arthur pinning Merlin helpless beneath his body while Merlin fires breathless laughing insults at him, the both of them surrounded by a happy haze.
Merlin, for his part, coaxes out Arthur’s dreams of ruling with Merlin as his Consort and Court Warlock at his side, and it takes a little while for him to become accustomed to the thought of such worryingly high rank. ‘But Arthur! I’ve no idea how to act like a - a Consort or anything! And what kind of awful clothes will I have to wear?’
Arthur’s eyes gleam.
‘Oh, no,’ Merlin says warningly. ‘Oh, no, you don’t, you prat.’
‘Oh, yes, I do,’ Arthur says in a voice of soft velvet; and he drowns Merlin’s objections in another kiss, one that leaves Merlin dizzy and happy and incoherent and quite unable to form any more protests or defy Arthur’s authority in any way.
And so they build their shining dream-castles in the air, for the future and the kingdom they’ll make together. King and warlock, sun and moon, night and day - two halves of a whole, complete, connected, in complement.
And hope is in the very air they breathe, and a promise.
~
Next: Part 3
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