[Prompt] The revelation
Arthur was sulking, not that he'd ever admit it. He was the king, and kings didn't sulk. Especially not over something as trivial as a break up, if that was what this was. Especially not when he was supposed to be happily married to his Queen. Still, he was sulking, all because he’d told Dean he loved him and received the cold shoulder in return. Now he was back to sleeping alone, his own hand his only means of release.
His heart “belonged to someone else”, Dean had said to him, whatever that was supposed to mean. Arthur thought he’d know if he was in love with somebody else, thank you very much, and he was damn sure he wasn’t. There was Gwen, of course, but Dean was a complete idiot if he honestly believed Arthur loved her like that; he hadn’t thought of a woman in that way for many years, and had spent most of those same years silently lusting after Sir Gareth. Not that he was his supposed other love, either. There was a difference between lust and love, after all.
To make matters worse, when Arthur had challenged Dean’s words, tracking him down and demanding an explanation out of him in the middle of the main town courtyard, Dean had just given him some stupid sort of smile and told him the answer was “right in front of him”. Before he’d had a chance to demand a better answer, Merlin had appeared and bothered him for an audience, and Dean had managed to slip away.
That afternoon, the day after his confrontation with Dean in the courtyard, Arthur was moping restlessly around his chambers. He couldn’t keep his mind on anything, switching every few minutes from gazing out the window to collapsing into his chair, head in his hands. Frustration mounting, hurt from Dean’s refusal and angry with himself for giving Merlin such short shift yesterday (he had all but told his dearest friend to shut up and go bother somebody else), he ended up kicking one of the table legs purely in order to let off steam, succeeding only in stubbing his toe and angering himself further.
Huffing out a sigh, he finally accepted that there was only one way to make himself feel at least a little bit better. He needed to go and find Merlin and apologise. After that, maybe he’d go and demand an explanation out of Dean, but Merlin was his first concern. His friend had done nothing wrong, and hadn’t deserved yesterday’s wrath. Stomping out of his chambers, letting the heavy wooden door bang shut behind him (not that he was sulking), he headed off in the direction of Merlin’s chambers.
The king did not find his friend there, only a hastily scrawled list of spells left on the wooden table, seemingly discarded in a rush. For the first time that day, Arthur cracked a fond smile, imagining Merlin rushing to his next class and leaving a trail of paper in his wake. Holding onto the scrawled notes for no explicable reason, he wandered down to the classroom he had had converted from an old store room for Merlin’s use.
Hearing a lesson in full swing inside, and not wanting to interrupt Merlin in the middle of something he knew he loved, he instead chose to slip surreptitiously into the room, leaning against the wall and watching the class until Merlin was ready to talk to him. Some of the kids towards the back of the class paused and gawped at the sudden arrival of the king in the middle of their lessons, but Arthur quickly pressed his fingers to his lips and nodded towards their teacher; he didn’t want to be noticed so soon. Full of respect for their sovereign, the children did as they were told and turned their attention back to their studies. From the looks of things, they seemed to be attempting to light the candles placed in front of each student.
Merlin stood at the front of the class, stooped over the front bench and avidly watching the attempts of the children there. He was so lost in his teaching he was still yet to notice Arthur’s arrival, and that suited the king just fine.
Truth was, he liked watching Merlin like this. Enjoyed watching the man he had become... no, the man he had always been. It had just taken Arthur a long time to notice. He was so at ease, teaching these kids, the smile across his face as the youngest child in the class managed to produce a flickering flame so bright and eager that Arthur’s own frustrations all but melted away. In fact, he could feel a mirrored smile tugging at his own lips, and he had to fight not to echo Merlin’s delighted hand clap as yet another student illuminated their candle.
“Your majesty!” Arthur was rudely awakened from his happy reverie by the shriek, jumping to attention and looking into the startled and terrified face of a young girl. “Your majesty!” She squeaked again. “Please, forgive me! Your... your cape!”
Frowning, Arthur looked back over his shoulder at his red cape, embroidered with Camelot’s crest. The very end, just touching the stone floor, was smoking, flames quickly spreading across the material. Acting fast, he pulled the garment away from his neck, dropping it to the ground and taking a large step away. Over his shoulder, he heard Merlin’s voice yelling out words in magic’s strange language and saw the flames scorching his cape dissolve into harmless smoke. Next to him, the girl responsible was beginning to cry, ashamed and terrified.
Not needing to think twice, Arthur bent down to look her in the eye, offering a reassuring smile as he clapped a hand to her small shoulder. “No harm done,” he promised her, before looking up as he felt another set of eyes on him. Opening his mouth to apologise to Merlin for disrupting his class so, ready to suggest he just come back later, his words died in his throat as his eyes met his friend’s. He had no idea what caused the sudden revelation in his mind, would be none the wiser five years later, but it happened all the same.
He looked up into Merlin’s face, and he suddenly realised just who his heart belonged to. The answer was right in front of him.
His heart “belonged to someone else”, Dean had said to him, whatever that was supposed to mean. Arthur thought he’d know if he was in love with somebody else, thank you very much, and he was damn sure he wasn’t. There was Gwen, of course, but Dean was a complete idiot if he honestly believed Arthur loved her like that; he hadn’t thought of a woman in that way for many years, and had spent most of those same years silently lusting after Sir Gareth. Not that he was his supposed other love, either. There was a difference between lust and love, after all.
To make matters worse, when Arthur had challenged Dean’s words, tracking him down and demanding an explanation out of him in the middle of the main town courtyard, Dean had just given him some stupid sort of smile and told him the answer was “right in front of him”. Before he’d had a chance to demand a better answer, Merlin had appeared and bothered him for an audience, and Dean had managed to slip away.
That afternoon, the day after his confrontation with Dean in the courtyard, Arthur was moping restlessly around his chambers. He couldn’t keep his mind on anything, switching every few minutes from gazing out the window to collapsing into his chair, head in his hands. Frustration mounting, hurt from Dean’s refusal and angry with himself for giving Merlin such short shift yesterday (he had all but told his dearest friend to shut up and go bother somebody else), he ended up kicking one of the table legs purely in order to let off steam, succeeding only in stubbing his toe and angering himself further.
Huffing out a sigh, he finally accepted that there was only one way to make himself feel at least a little bit better. He needed to go and find Merlin and apologise. After that, maybe he’d go and demand an explanation out of Dean, but Merlin was his first concern. His friend had done nothing wrong, and hadn’t deserved yesterday’s wrath. Stomping out of his chambers, letting the heavy wooden door bang shut behind him (not that he was sulking), he headed off in the direction of Merlin’s chambers.
The king did not find his friend there, only a hastily scrawled list of spells left on the wooden table, seemingly discarded in a rush. For the first time that day, Arthur cracked a fond smile, imagining Merlin rushing to his next class and leaving a trail of paper in his wake. Holding onto the scrawled notes for no explicable reason, he wandered down to the classroom he had had converted from an old store room for Merlin’s use.
Hearing a lesson in full swing inside, and not wanting to interrupt Merlin in the middle of something he knew he loved, he instead chose to slip surreptitiously into the room, leaning against the wall and watching the class until Merlin was ready to talk to him. Some of the kids towards the back of the class paused and gawped at the sudden arrival of the king in the middle of their lessons, but Arthur quickly pressed his fingers to his lips and nodded towards their teacher; he didn’t want to be noticed so soon. Full of respect for their sovereign, the children did as they were told and turned their attention back to their studies. From the looks of things, they seemed to be attempting to light the candles placed in front of each student.
Merlin stood at the front of the class, stooped over the front bench and avidly watching the attempts of the children there. He was so lost in his teaching he was still yet to notice Arthur’s arrival, and that suited the king just fine.
Truth was, he liked watching Merlin like this. Enjoyed watching the man he had become... no, the man he had always been. It had just taken Arthur a long time to notice. He was so at ease, teaching these kids, the smile across his face as the youngest child in the class managed to produce a flickering flame so bright and eager that Arthur’s own frustrations all but melted away. In fact, he could feel a mirrored smile tugging at his own lips, and he had to fight not to echo Merlin’s delighted hand clap as yet another student illuminated their candle.
“Your majesty!” Arthur was rudely awakened from his happy reverie by the shriek, jumping to attention and looking into the startled and terrified face of a young girl. “Your majesty!” She squeaked again. “Please, forgive me! Your... your cape!”
Frowning, Arthur looked back over his shoulder at his red cape, embroidered with Camelot’s crest. The very end, just touching the stone floor, was smoking, flames quickly spreading across the material. Acting fast, he pulled the garment away from his neck, dropping it to the ground and taking a large step away. Over his shoulder, he heard Merlin’s voice yelling out words in magic’s strange language and saw the flames scorching his cape dissolve into harmless smoke. Next to him, the girl responsible was beginning to cry, ashamed and terrified.
Not needing to think twice, Arthur bent down to look her in the eye, offering a reassuring smile as he clapped a hand to her small shoulder. “No harm done,” he promised her, before looking up as he felt another set of eyes on him. Opening his mouth to apologise to Merlin for disrupting his class so, ready to suggest he just come back later, his words died in his throat as his eyes met his friend’s. He had no idea what caused the sudden revelation in his mind, would be none the wiser five years later, but it happened all the same.
He looked up into Merlin’s face, and he suddenly realised just who his heart belonged to. The answer was right in front of him.