fic: heartquake (merlin; m/a) PART THREE
heartquake
part three
He wakes to the clatter of metal. For a moment, he thinks that Em is having one of her episodes again, and then worry seeps through because he’ll have to explain that to Arthur and that won’t be good and…
But Em is sleeping soundly next to him and the metal is coming from Arthur’s room. The prince is dressing himself in his chain mail when Merlin comes to his side to fasten the last fastenings.
“Honestly, when did you start getting up so early?” Merlin asks. “It’s a hazard for the rest of us that are trying to sleep.”
“You should wake Em soon,” Arthur says. “It’s gonna be a long ride to Ealdor.”
“You meant that?”
“Of course, you idiot. Who’s going to protect Emeline otherwise? It surprises me that you’ve managed for four years,” Arthur shakes his head.
“Oy! Are you questioning my parenting skills, Pendragon?” Merlin hits him on the arm.
“No, just merely questioning your protecting skills.”
“I take care of her, and you, just fine, thanks,” Merlin puts on his stern face but Arthur doesn’t buy it.
“I’ll be back later this morning. You’d better be packed and ready to go then.”
“Bossy.”
“You secretly love it.” Without warning, Arthur plants a kiss on Merlin’s cheek like it’s normal and goes off to training.
Light is leaving them, slowly but surely, until there is only dark purple in the skies. Em rides with him on one horse, while Arthur and their bags are on the other.
They’ve covered quite a bit of distance and there will only be just a few more hours of riding after they’ve woken up tomorrow because they need to sleep. He can see Em’s eyelids drooping, and his legs are tired from riding.
Arthur seems to notice this and says, “We might as well make camp here,” when they are in the presence of a few trees in the woods. They make a fire and, soon after, Em is fast asleep in Merlin’s jacket on the ground.
“You should sleep, as well,” Arthur says. “I’ll keep watch.”
The two of them end up staying awake together in the glow of the fire and, slowly, they begin drifting towards each other. It’s a cold night and the heat radiating from Arthur is tempting.
The prince looks solemn, throwing bits of grass to the fire absent-mindedly. He looks more than that, he looks sad and Merlin has this ache in his gut from seeing it, like this is Em on one of her sick days and all he wants to do is make her some hot soup and lie in bed with her all morning long.
But this is Arthur, he probably can’t make hot soup for him, mostly because there are no resources at the moment. As a consolation for lost soup, Merlin closes his hand over Arthur’s and kisses the tip of his shoulder.
“You take care of everyone, Merlin,” he says. “Gaius, Morgana, Gwen, Em, even me. You take care of everyone.”
He has nothing to say to this but he’s right. He doesn’t mind it, doesn’t mind caring for others, even if, more times that he’s actually proud of, there are no thanks that precede the gesture.
“Question is, Merlin, who’s taking care of you?”
“Why? Would you like to?” Merlin smiles.
Arthur does, too, and that ache disappears, as if by magic. As if, all this time, the magic he has in his veins, that pulses through his being at any moment, isn’t the one that really matters. The magic that matters is the one that comes when he’s with the people he loves; Em, and Arthur, especially.
It starts off slow, their kiss, as if this is their first and they want to make it count, with Merlin’s lips so casually brushing against Arthur’s, until Arthur, the impatient little bugger, brings them closer together by wrapping an arm around Merlin’s waist. He begins sucking on Merlin’s bottom lip, that makes him moan and Arthur snickers at this.
“Oh, shu…” the rest of Merlin’s sentence fades along with his common sense as Arthur plants his kisses on the side of his neck, licking and biting along the flesh and Merlin positively writhes.
Soon, he has his hand under his manservant’s shirt, devilishly snaking up to Merlin’s chest and tweaking a nipple that makes him gasp at the contact.
“Arthur…Arthur…” Merlin keeps saying. “Arthur!”
“Hmm?”
“Not here,” he puts a stern hand on his chest. Arthur’s eyes bulge open, as if he’s just realized Merlin’s daughter is sleeping a few feet away from them, thankfully, facing the other way.
The prince stands up, holding Merlin’s wrist and tugging him away from the campsite. As he’s being pressed against a tree, Arthur presses heated kisses everywhere, his lips, his neck; even a small one on his nose and Merlin can feel in it his bones.
He wants everything, he wants his body pressing closer, he wants more kisses, he wants this, and he wants Arthur, for as long as he’ll have him.
Arthur’s hand is still under his tunic as he says, “Off.”
Merlin separates himself long enough for Arthur to pull the useless fabric off him, and, before he knows it, Arthur’s own chest is bare, as well. He can’t resist himself, honestly, he can’t, and rubs his fingers over any bare skin he comes in contact with, and one of them snakes around the waistband of Arthur’s pants, teasing the prince until he gasps at the touch of Merlin right there, over the wet stain in his breeches. Arthur growls from the back of his throat and the sound makes Merlin’s world shake.
“Arthur, please,” Merlin says, putting his hand on his shoulder. “I’m not having sex against a tree.”
Arthur laughs and presses their foreheads together, his laughter mingling with his breath. The kisses grow tenderer as Arthur slowly leads them to the ground. Merlin manages to lean up a little to kiss Arthur a little bit more before he pushes him slowly to the hard ground that’s covered by their tunics.
“Let me take care of you, yeah?” Arthur’s eyes are half-lidded, dark with lust, but there’s no mistaking the feeling behind those blues, the care and compassion Merlin has seen him have for others these past two years, the same one that he wishes time after time was for him.
This time it is, this care, this love, Arthur’s giving it to him, for the reward that Merlin will do the same.
“Yeah,” he answers, because he will.
When Merlin wakes up, he’s wedged between Arthur and Em.
Em is curled up against his stomach, wearing his jacket, that is much too big for her, and makes her look like the most adorable midget and Arthur has his arm around his waist, some of the hair on his forearm tickling the bare skin that Merlin’s tunic doesn’t quite cover, his fingers barely around Em’s body.
While Arthur stirs in his sleep, and Merlin feels his breath on his neck, he decides, there’s no harm in staying like this for a little while longer.
Emeline wakes up the moment they arrive in Ealdor. It’s as if she can smell the scent of her former home, and that is enough to rouse her from her slumber against Arthur’s chest.
“We’re here!” she claps her hand excitedly.
“Will you hold on, Em?” Arthur asks, but he’s laughing nonetheless.
Merlin picks his daughter off of the horse, and has the stolen moment of sharing a fond look with Arthur as Em runs off to Hunith’s house. He helps the prince of his horse and brushes his fingers against his and he can see the smile on Arthur’s face he can’t hide.
“Grandma!” Em is enveloped by Hunith’s welcoming arms, and, soon, so are Arthur and Merlin.
“Good to see you again, Hunith,” Arthur says politely.
Hunith puts a hand on Arthur’s cheek and says, “It’s always a pleasure, sire.”
They step into the cozy home that once housed Merlin’s childhood. “I don’t know how long you’re staying but Em can sleep with me tonight and Arthur, Merlin,” Hunith says, looking at the two of them, “Merlin’s old room should suffice for the two of you.”
Hunith goes off with her granddaughter, leaving them alone in the house. Merlin and Arthur share this odd look between them, before Arthur asks, “Do you think she knows?”
“My mother knows everything,” Merlin shakes his head.
“Even what I’m thinking of doing to you right now?” Arthur raises an eyebrow.
“I’d rather you tell me yourself,” Merlin snakes his arm around Arthur’s waist. He doesn’t, though, tell him, just press a loving kiss on Merlin’s lips, as if saying that he won’t say it, he’ll put it to action.
Arthur insisted on accompanying Merlin to Ellyn’s house. Merlin didn’t protest, he figures he needs the company before reuniting with the mother of his child.
Em is already there, probably talking in fast tones to her mother about her new life in Camelot, while Ellyn is too tired and cannot make more of her enthusiasm save for the nodding and smiling and stroking of her daughter’s hand. He knows her too well, he figures.
Merlin taps on the door and a happy voice he recognizes as Ellyn’s says “Come in!”
Arthur gives Merlin a weak smile and a shrug as he opens the door and sees Ellyn sitting up in her bed, with Em at the side of her bed, cross-legged and smiling.
“Merlin!” Ellyn practically beams.
She still looks beautiful, her straight blonde hair, her green eyes, her smile, but the sickness shows. Her eyes look tired and red, her face is thinner, and her smile, it looks as if it’s her last resort. She can do nothing more than smile now.
“Hey, Ellyn,” Merlin gives a small kiss on her cheek.
“Em, can you leave Daddy and me alone for a bit?” Ellyn says to their daughter.
“Go on with Arthur,” Merlin says.
She does, kisses her mother on the forehead and rushes to Arthur’s side. He says nothing, the prince, just pulls Em closer cautiously and gives Merlin a reassuring smile, as if to say, I’ll be here when you need me . Merlin sits on the side of Ellyn’s bed, still holding her hand.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Better now,” she nods. “Em seems to love it over there.”
“Yeah, I guess. She misses you, though. I do, too. It’s hard without you sometimes. We always had each other and now…”
“You need to cope, Merlin,” she grips on his hand tighter.
“I am. I am.”
“With Arthur?” Ellyn smiles. Merlin laughs.
He should’ve known; Ellyn had always been the observant type, perhaps it was the smile that gave it away, or the small bruise on Merlin’s neck, he should’ve known.
“That obvious?”
“Just to me. I’ve known you your whole life, anyway. Will would’ve noticed, too.”
“Yeah, but Will would’ve teased me mercilessly and asked Arthur about his intentions towards me,” Merlin laughs. “You’re okay with this, right?”
“Of course I am, Merlin,” Ellyn smiles like only a mother can smile. “I just like seeing you happy.”
“I just like seeing you well,” Merlin kisses her knuckles lovingly.
“Merlin, no,” Ellyn says sternly. “Don’t you even dare using your thingy to cure me. I know you’re thinking about it, just don’t do it. Just don’t.”
“I have to save you. I love you,” Merlin’s close to crying now.
“I love you, too, M. always will,” Ellyn runs her fingers through his hair. “Take care of Em. Whatever you do.”
“Of course,” Merlin nods. “I should probably send her in again.”
“That would be nice.”
He gets up from the bed but turns back for good measure and kisses her hair and keeping one hand on her cheek. “I’ll always love you, too.”
Emeline enters the room, all the while; Arthur pulls Merlin in for a hug, a strong hand on his neck and the other around his waist.
A scream is heard, pulling the two lovers apart. Then a whimper, then a cry, then silence as he turns around, back into the room
He feels his heart growing heavy, then an arm around him, then oblivion, then pure, there was no other word for it, sadness.
There’s a numbness around him, like he can’t even feel leaving Ellyn’s room, that now occupies the mother of his child, her eyes closed like she’s sleeping, or walking to his own house, or being settled into bed like a child, because, the next thing he knows, it’s the late hours of the night, one arm directed downwards, where his hand nearly touched Arthur’s, who was sleeping in mismatched sheets on the floor.
The light from the small window hits him perfectly, and Merlin watches the sight. Arthur with his hair, lit by the blue moon, his mouth slightly parted, eyelids covering those eyes that are so blue and ones he can look at for hours on end. His Arthur, his destiny, his everything.
Merlin lets his hand travel as he turns and ends on his stomach, starting from Arthur’s hair, then downwards towards his cheekbones, then swiping a finger along his lips. Arthur blinks his eyes open and, as if on instinct, his hand grips on the sword lying next to him.
“It’s just me,” Merlin assures him.
“Merlin,” Arthur looks up to him. “Are you alright?”
Merlin intertwines their fingers together, and practically feels Arthur’s eyes poring into his.
“I need you so much closer.”
Arthur says nothing to this, just kicks away his sheets like he’s glad to be rid of them, and lies next to Merlin on the bed, facing him, and one arm around him. Merlin needs him to kiss him, he needs the reassurance that he hasn’t lost him yet but Arthur almost looks scared of the thought, like he thinks that Merlin is so fragile that one kiss could break him.
So Merlin leans forward and kisses him, until he knows Arthur can’t resist anymore, that he’ll have to make contact, and he does, because he knows him. His lips are on him hungrily, desperately, even, as if they’re making a silent point, and Merlin takes it, because he needs to understand.
“I,” Arthur manages between kisses, “fucking, love you. So much. You pathetic, stupid, idiot.”
“I love you, too,” Merlin begins rolling over and straddling his hips, then leans down one more time for another kiss, “you supercilious, condescending, prat of a prince.” He kisses him as his body rocks against Arthur’s, where he wants to live forever.
Arthur wakes up in a few hours, though Merlin is still snug in his arms. He separates himself from the sated, sleeping body and makes sure his chest is wrapped in the sheets before putting on his tunic and going out the door.
The morning’s still new, so no one’s really awake, except for himself, but, the thing is, he usually wakes early. Sometimes he just roams the castle for a few hours then goes back to bed, pretending to be asleep when Merlin wakes him.
It’s silly, of course, but Arthur likes the idea of seeing Merlin as the first thing in the morning. Now, he gets to see him whenever he likes. The idea makes him feel like a child, a bit stupid and a lot naïve.
He brings his sword along, just out of habit, there’s no real harm in Ealdor, after all, and goes out the door, into the sitting room that doubles as a kitchen. He doesn’t expect Hunith to be sitting there, as well.
“Morning,” she smiles.
“Good morning, Hunith,” Arthur says politely. “Where’s Em?”
“Outside, playing. Ellyn’s mother is looking after her.”
“Ah, well,” he says awkwardly. “I was just going out for a walk.”
“Sit a while, I want to talk to you,” she says. There’s a small fear that comes with that request, as he sits down next to her on the wooden bench.
“What is it, Hunith?” Arthur asks.
“It’s about Merlin. With everything that’s been happening to him, Emeline, and Ellyn’s death, he needs someone who can be there for him, someone to look out for him. You understand that, yes?”
“Yes, of course. I’m doing just that.” Hunith looks at him, her eyes judging him, as if he’s lying or not, like any sensible mother would do then her expression softens, like she’s made her decision.
“I see the way he looks at you. His respect, his trust, his adoration, I can see it in his eyes. He’s my son; all a mother wants is for her child to be happy. I want someone to look at him as he does you, sire, and you do.” Arthur is speechless to this.
“Just take care of him, okay? And accept him, for all he is, because, not many people knows this, but love, dear, is about acceptance.”
“Hunith,” Arthur holds her hand, “I give you my word.”
She smiles and pulls his face closer so she can press a kiss on his forehead. It must be like this to have a mother, and one that cares so deeply for you, and he likes the feeling.
This family of Merlin’s, Em, Hunith, Will, even Ellyn, for the millisecond they shared, it’s like he’s been accepted here, loved here.
“Good, now,” she wipes a tear off her cheek, “shall we have some tea?”
Barely anyone’s awake, still. He can see a few figures trudging through the small village but, still, barely anyone. He can feel the sadness, though, as if Ellyn’s death had shadowed the happiness of the villagers for the day. Her funeral’s today, Arthur remembers sadly.
The breeze whips his hair away from his face, as he walks towards the edge of the woods, the trees that start the path for more and more. He sees something through the green, though. Something red.
Apples. Floating around in mid-air, being navigated by an invisible hand, stacking them upon another, until they made an outline of a stick figure in between the trees.
Magic. There’s a rustle in the tree and Arthur withdraws his sword.
“Come out, sorcerer. Reveal yourself before I cut you down,” Arthur orders. There’s no response. “COME OUT!”
A floating figure emerges from the tree, a small figure, oddly familiar. She lands on the ground, her body wracking and crying, her hands up. Arthur’s sword is still pointed at her; he can’t quite put it down.
“Emeline…Emeline,” he keeps saying incoherently.
“ARTHUR!” a voice breaks through, as Emeline, the sorceress, the sorceress, this little girl he cares for more than he does himself, faints. Merlin rushes to her side like any good father would do, and holds her in his arms.
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, ARTHUR? YOU POINT YOUR SWORD AT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION!” Merlin bellows.
“I…”
“YOU WHAT?”
“She has magic!”
Merlin, who’s had his back to Arthur before, turns to face him but he’s different, his eyes, they’re inhuman, they’re golden, they’re magic.
“So do I!” Merlin yells, tears running down his cheeks in earnest. “Who do you think’s been protecting your royal arse for these past two years? So, unless you want to point your sword at me, as well, you better leave. NOW.”
“Merlin.”
“GET THE BLOODY HELL AWAY FROM ME AND MY DAUGHTER NOW! Or I swear, it won’t matter you’re my destiny or not because you’ll be dead, Arthur Pendragon. JUST GO.”
Merlin has magic. Merlin has magic and he’s never told him. Merlin has magic and he loves him. Arthur should feel betrayed, angry, mad, filthy, that he ever loved a sorcerer, as he rides his horse back to Camelot.
But, no, he doesn’t feel any of this. He just feels empty. Without Em, without Merlin, all he is, is just empty.
PART FOUR