Fic: To Kneel Before Your King
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: G
Words: 1600
Summary: The first time Arthur kneels before Merlin.
A/N: Written for The Merlin First Time Fest. Also, the first time I've written non-BB words in ages. \o/
It happened after Merlin told Arthur about his magic. They’d just returned to Camelot, weary and aching and quiet, the memory of the morning’s fight fresh in their minds. It hadn’t been a sorcerer this time, but instead a group of bandits from one of the nearby villages. They weren’t strong, and Arthur’s men could probably have won easily if it hadn’t been the middle of the harshest winter in Camelot’s history. But it was, and so the bandits had brought along every boy who could fight, even the young ones, the ones who needed to use both of their arms to lift their swords. Their faces were thin and pinched, and there was a wildness in them that made Merlin think of hungry dogs rather than young men.
And then he hadn’t thought at all, because the men had swarmed down among Arthur’s men, swamping them, and Merlin thought of nothing but protecting his prince. He’d done it well, as best as he knew how, and it was only when the last of the bandits were driven back that he’d realised that it could just as easily have been him attacking the prince. He’d come from a village just like theirs, and the winter would be just as hard there as it was here. If he hadn’t come to Camelot, he would have been reduced to a fate like this - attacking patrols in the hope of finding something worth stealing.
He’d thought about that all the way back to the castle, but it wasn’t until he’d put away the horses and followed Arthur up to his chambers that he realised. He’d been lying to the prince, pretending that he was like those men in the forest just so that he could remain by the prince’s side. And perhaps it was more than simple food and shelter that drove him to remain there - it was the knowledge that this was his place, and that Arthur was his to protect - but that did not change the fact that, according to the laws of Camelot, Arthur had just as much right to attack him as the bandits. Merlin may not have tried to kill the prince, but he’d sat beside the man and pretended to be something other than himself, and that wasn’t how he’d ever wanted things to be. It wasn’t how things were supposed to be, because Merlin couldn’t believe that this destiny of his was built upon lies. If he was destined to be beside Arthur’s side throughout the man’s reign, it would have to be as a warlock, not as a servant.
After they’d reached Arthur’s chambers, he’d stripped off the prince’s armour quickly, eyes flicking over Arthur’s face. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slightly curved beneath the weight of the chainmail, but his jaw was set in a way that Merlin knew all too well. He had seen that expression on Arthur’s face many times before, and he knew that it meant that Arthur wouldn’t admit he was tired, even if his body was drooping beneath his armour and his gaze was sliding unfocused around the room. Arthur was not one to admit his weaknesses, even if Merlin could read them clearly on every line of his body.
On any other night, Merlin would have blown out the candle and left quickly, because he knew that it was only once he left that Arthur would allow himself to slump against his mattress and slip into sleep. But tonight, Merlin had one more thing to do, and he knew that it had to be now. It didn’t matter that they were both dirt-streaked and shaking, or that Merlin was afraid, so afraid, of what would happen. But it had to be now, because Merlin couldn’t hold back any longer, and because he knew that Arthur needed to know.
“Arthur,” he said, turning to where the man was standing by the window, leaning heavily against the wall. “Arthur, I’m magic.”
Arthur looked away from the window, his blue gaze sliding across Merlin’s face. “Right,” he said slowly, the corner of his mouth flicking up into the shadow of a smile. “Goodnight, Merlin.” Merlin blinked. Arthur thought - Arthur thought he was joking?
“I’m serious, Arthur,” he said. He wouldn’t joke about this. Arthur frowned slightly.
“That will be all, Merlin,” he replied, and Merlin felt something like anger spark inside his chest, because Arthur didn’t know what it was like. He didn’t know that this was something that Merlin would never, ever joke about, because Merlin knew what could happen if he mentioned magic within Camelot. Merlin was confessing, and Arthur was brushing him aside as though he didn’t believe that Merlin could do magic. As though this was just an attempt to make Arthur laugh, because it was funny to think that Merlin could be anything more than a servant, and because it was ridiculous to think that Merlin might have power.
Merlin felt anger curling inside him as he looked at Arthur. The man was so confident; so sure that Merlin had shared everything with him, that Merlin hadn’t been hiding this secret from Arthur since the first day he stepped into Camelot. He felt it heating his chest, mixing up with the edges of his magic, and before he knew what was happening it had ripped out of him, flooding the room with light. Merlin blinked, looking for its source, and realised that there was an orb floating in the centre of the room, blue and silver and pulsing with light. Merlin didn’t recognise it, but something in Arthur’s face suggested that he did. The man stood frozen for a second, his mouth open, looking from Merlin to the orb and back again as though he simply didn’t understand. There was such a look of shock on his face that Merlin felt fear course through his body, because Arthur really hadn’t known. Merlin had often wondered whether he might have, on those occasions when they’d defeated sorcerers together and the prince had stared at him as though he had something he desperately wanted to ask.
But the look on Arthur’s face now suggested that he hadn’t known. Merlin wanted to explain, to say something to wipe that expression off the prince’s face. It was all for you, he wanted to say, because that was the truth. He had magic so that he could protect the prince. He’d protect Arthur anyway, even if all he had was his body and Arthur wasn’t a prince. Merlin’s magic, and Arthur’s royalty - those weren’t the important parts. Those things could change, and their destinies would still run together. But Merlin couldn’t say those things, because the prince was already stepping towards him, his golden skin tinged with silvery-blue from the orb above their heads.
“You’re a sorcerer,” he said, and knelt at Merlin’s feet.
It wasn’t the way Merlin had seen other men kneel, as though they were reluctant. Those men had sunk stiffly to their knees, and their expressions had clearly shown that they didn’t want to lower themselves before another. But Arthur knelt as though he was proud of it, as though he knew how much more his submission meant and as though he was willing to give it. His eyes were locked on Merlin’s as he slid down to the stone floor, and Merlin felt as though he could see the whole world in Arthur’s gaze. There was fear there, yes, because Arthur had been taught all his life that sorcerers were evil, and that magic was the one thing that he should be afraid of, even when he was told to show no fear towards anything else. But Merlin could see something else in Arthur’s face as well, and it was that which caused his chest to flutter with hope. It suggested that Arthur was not kneeling out of fear of his life, but rather as an apology, and as an acceptance. There was something about the orb Merlin had forced out of himself that Arthur recognised, and it was that ball of light which had brought Arthur closer to true understanding than any words that Merlin could have spoken.
So he didn’t say anything more, but instead stood there with the prince of Camelot at his feet, knees pressed hard against the stone floor and his head bowed beneath Merlin’s gaze. Merlin found that he loved him more than anything in that moment, because he could see that the man was curved beneath him not just as a prince willing to submit before his people, but also as Arthur, willing to accept all that Merlin was, and all that they would be together.
And when the blue orb above them had faded away, and Merlin could see the warm glow of the candles reflected in Arthur’s hair, he bent down to the prince and helped him up, his arms curling tightly around Arthur’s waist. The prince's cheek was pressed warm against his shoulder, and Merlin held him close as he walked them both over to the bed. They would talk about this more, he knew, and Arthur would have questions he wanted answered, and he would still think Merlin was an idiot, and Merlin would probably have to clean out the stables a hundred times over as punishment, but none of that mattered now. For now, there was nothing but the warmth of Arthur’s bed as Merlin tucked the prince into it and slid quietly in beside him. For now, Merlin could let himself relax quietly into sleep, safe with the knowledge that Arthur finally knew, that he’d knelt before his servant, and that everything was going to be alright.
The End.