Drabble: Three Times (Merlin, Arthur)
Title: The Three Times Merlin Almost Tells Arthur He Has Magic and The One Time He Does
Author: sarahyyy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character: Merlin, Arthur
Word Count: 1719
Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how much I wish.
------------------------------
i.
“What’s this room up here?” Arthur asks curiously.
Merlin answers him, “Uh, it’s mine.” He hopes Arthur doesn’t also include supersonic hearing in his overflowing list of things he can do and is brilliant at because at that moment his heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might actually leap out from his mouth.
He knows.
“And what do you expect to find in there?” Gaius interjects and Merlin thinks that he sounds suspiciously protective.
“I’m looking for material evidences suggesting the use of enchantments,” Arthur supplies, walking towards the room.
“What have you done with the magic book I gave you,” Gaius whispers in an undertone just as Arthur walks into Merlin’s room and Merlin feels his heart skip a beat and his palms begin to sweat and then his eyes fly towards the direction of his room, alarmed.
Before he is able to say anything, before his mind is even able to react to the fact that he is about to be ousted by Arthur and sent to the gallows for his treachery, he hears Arthur call his name and he can only spare one more pleading look at Gaius before Arthur says, “Look what I’ve found.”
Oh no, he knows.
Merlin jogs up the short flight of stairs to his room, the words, “I can explain” at the tip of his tongue. He isn’t sure how exactly he can explain, but he thinks that it is worth the try. Better to at least try to explain before Arthur stabs him with something sharp and kills him on the spot or something.
He is in his room and he is facing Arthur before his brain can process more and just as he is about to open his mouth to defend himself, Arthur sends him a glare to shut him up.
God, he knows.
“I found the place where you can put things,” he says as he opens a cupboard, annoyed, “it’s call the cupboard.”
And Merlin swallows the words he was about to say and he laughs, though it sounds strained to him.
He is safe and Arthur doesn’t know.
--
ii.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur apologizes as Merlin approaches him, “if it were up to me, we’d be on our way there now.”
Merlin offers him a small smile. He thinks he is taking this somewhat too lightly, really. “Well, you tried,” he offers, “And thank you for getting an audience with the king.”
Arthur is uncharacteristically silent at that. “I wish that Camelot was able to help the people regardless of how far they lived.”
It is in moments like these that Merlin admires Arthur for who he is. It is also in moments like these that Merlin wants to look Arthur in the eye and tell him that he is a sorcerer.
“I’m going back to Ealdor,” he blurts out instead.
Arthur only nods. “Of course,” he says.
Merlin thinks that he should tell him. Arthur has shown trust in him, it’s only right that he does the same. But it’s no ordinary secret he is thinking of telling Arthur - he could die for it. He bites the insides of his cheeks.
“It’s been an honour serving you,” he says. And he means it.
Arthur gives him a look before, “You’ll be coming back.” It wasn’t a question, not really.
Merlin looks away from him. “She’s my mother,” he explains, “I’ve got to look after her before anyone else. You understand?”
Arthur nods, just once. “I’ll do exactly the same.”
There is a long pause in which Merlin looks at Arthur, studies him and tries to etch every single detail of him into his memory. The chances of him coming back to Camelot are slim at best and if this is the last time he is going to look at Arthur, he is going to see him.
Arthur, though, is quite evidently not used to dealing with situations as such for he lets out an awkward cough before he attempts to lighten the situation by saying, “Well, you’ve been terrible. Really, I mean it. The worst servant I’ve ever had.”
Merlin knows he means anything but that and he can feel the words that he has spent nights preparing bubbling up his throat. But he forces them down and settles for a smile paired with, “Thank you, sire.”
He turns to leave. He should leave before Arthur says something to make him feel so guilty that he blurts everything out.
“Merlin,” Arthur suddenly calls and Merlin turns back to face him. Arthur’s eyebrows are drawn, solemn, “good luck.”
And Merlin turns to leave without a single word, not trusting himself to say anything except, “I’m a sorcerer, I’m sorry I lied.”
--
iii.
Merlin adjusts Arthur's chain mail and sighs. Arthur, in turn, gives him a look.
“What is it?” Arthur finally asks, exasperated, when he realizes that Merlin isn’t going to say anything, “I know you have something to say. You’re wearing your ‘if-I-say-this-I’ll-get-thrown-in-the-stocks’ look.”
Merlin lets out a slow grin. “Will I?” he asks, “Get thrown in the stocks, that is.”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “I am but a commoner now, am I not?”
Merlin frowns and makes a face. “I don’t know why you even bother doing this,” he admits, “You’re good at what you do and being good at jousting makes you win your opponents. Your rather id-” he cuts himself off suddenly, searching for a word that means ‘idiot’ in a much nicer way, “strange way of thinking that you’re winning because you’re the crown prince is…” He chances a glimpse at Arthur, who isn’t looking particularly pleased.
“Is?” Arthur prompts, the word coming out from him lips almost in a hiss.
“Is well, pardon me, sire,” Merlin crosses his hands at his back, “Rather idiotic, sire.”
Arthur glares at Merlin. “You have no idea what it’s like to be the Royal Prince,” he says solemnly, “Everyone lets me have my way, jousting opponents or not. Take Leon, for one. I’ve seen him train with the other knights and I know how good he is. But he deliberately let himself lose grip of his lance the other day just so he wouldn’t hurt me.” Arthur sighs and turns away from Merlin to look out of the tent. “Sometimes I feel like just because I’m the prince, everything I do is right. But it isn’t and it shouldn’t feel that way.”
Merlin snorts because that isn’t what he is used to hearing. Not from Arthur, at least.
Arthur glares at Merlin but it doesn’t really stop Merlin’s grin.
“It’s not funny!” Arthur exclaims, “It’s not fair that I have such advantage over others.”
“Most people would tell you that you’re being an ungrateful prat right now,” Merlin murmurs with a roll of his eyes.
“Most people aren’t my manservant,” Arthur retorts promptly, “And most people wouldn’t even dare to dream of saying something like that to me. Most people generally don’t show themselves to me.” Arthur sighs sadly and looks Merlin the eye. “I’m glad you’re not like most people, Merlin.”
Only he is.
Merlin’s smile dies almost immediately and he feels a lump at his throat. He thinks he should tell Arthur, he thinks Arthur at least deserves to know.
“Arthur, I am-”
A loud ring of the bell signals Arthur’s turn now and cuts Merlin’s words off. Arthur is still looking at him expectantly and Merlin manages to swallow his original words down and replace them with, “Good luck.”
--
iv.
Merlin is sitting in his cell, staring at the chains on his feet. He’d always known that there would be a day when someone -Morgana, for one- ousts him out as a sorcerer, but he never expects it to be Gaius.
He knows Gaius didn’t mean to, he knows Gaius was drugged into speaking nothing but the truth, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. Knowing that Gaius is at the cell next to his, locked up for being his accomplice, for harbouring a sorcerer, doesn’t help to numb the pain at all, too. If anything, it just makes him hate himself more.
He has been sitting there for quite some time now. There aren’t any windows to his cell so he cannot really estimate what time it is or how long he has gone without sleeping. His body feels numb - the result of the potion that was forced down his throat, a potion that is supposed to restrain his magic.
A rattle of keys tells him that someone is walking his way. Merlin doesn’t look up. There isn’t really anyone he wants to see now. From the corner of his eye, he sees feet outside his cell but he makes no effort to look up at all.
“Merlin.”
The voice is familiar and it sends a sting down Merlin’s entire body. He pulls himself up and walks to his visitor, dragging the chains as he walks, knowing that Arthur deserves at least an explanation.
“Arthur,” Merlin greets. His voice is hoarse. The last thing he had to drink was that potion they made him take. He doesn’t look into Arthur’s eyes. He cannot.
“Is it true?” Arthur’s voice is hushed but firm, “What they’re saying about you, all the accusation…is it true?”
Merlin can hear the hurt and the betrayal in Arthur’s voice and pain grips his stomach. He has betrayed Arthur’s trust in him.
He nods, just once.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur hisses and Merlin cannot help it, he laughs and it sounds so foreign, so detached, that even he pauses to wonder if it were really him that emitted the noise.
“Would you have understood?” he asks Arthur and this time he looks right into Arthur’s eyes.
Arthur doesn’t answer. It is enough for Merlin.
Merlin walks back into his cells and faces the wall. He doesn’t hear footsteps. Arthur isn’t leaving.
Then there is a metal clang and Merlin’s head snaps back to see a silver key on the ground, in the middle of the both of them. He looks up at Arthur whose face is stoic and fists are clenched tightly.
“Don’t come back.” It isn’t a warning, but more of a friendly reminder. And then Arthur is gone, his footsteps, firm and steady, leading away from the dungeons.
Author: sarahyyy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character: Merlin, Arthur
Word Count: 1719
Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how much I wish.
------------------------------
i.
“What’s this room up here?” Arthur asks curiously.
Merlin answers him, “Uh, it’s mine.” He hopes Arthur doesn’t also include supersonic hearing in his overflowing list of things he can do and is brilliant at because at that moment his heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might actually leap out from his mouth.
He knows.
“And what do you expect to find in there?” Gaius interjects and Merlin thinks that he sounds suspiciously protective.
“I’m looking for material evidences suggesting the use of enchantments,” Arthur supplies, walking towards the room.
“What have you done with the magic book I gave you,” Gaius whispers in an undertone just as Arthur walks into Merlin’s room and Merlin feels his heart skip a beat and his palms begin to sweat and then his eyes fly towards the direction of his room, alarmed.
Before he is able to say anything, before his mind is even able to react to the fact that he is about to be ousted by Arthur and sent to the gallows for his treachery, he hears Arthur call his name and he can only spare one more pleading look at Gaius before Arthur says, “Look what I’ve found.”
Oh no, he knows.
Merlin jogs up the short flight of stairs to his room, the words, “I can explain” at the tip of his tongue. He isn’t sure how exactly he can explain, but he thinks that it is worth the try. Better to at least try to explain before Arthur stabs him with something sharp and kills him on the spot or something.
He is in his room and he is facing Arthur before his brain can process more and just as he is about to open his mouth to defend himself, Arthur sends him a glare to shut him up.
God, he knows.
“I found the place where you can put things,” he says as he opens a cupboard, annoyed, “it’s call the cupboard.”
And Merlin swallows the words he was about to say and he laughs, though it sounds strained to him.
He is safe and Arthur doesn’t know.
--
ii.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur apologizes as Merlin approaches him, “if it were up to me, we’d be on our way there now.”
Merlin offers him a small smile. He thinks he is taking this somewhat too lightly, really. “Well, you tried,” he offers, “And thank you for getting an audience with the king.”
Arthur is uncharacteristically silent at that. “I wish that Camelot was able to help the people regardless of how far they lived.”
It is in moments like these that Merlin admires Arthur for who he is. It is also in moments like these that Merlin wants to look Arthur in the eye and tell him that he is a sorcerer.
“I’m going back to Ealdor,” he blurts out instead.
Arthur only nods. “Of course,” he says.
Merlin thinks that he should tell him. Arthur has shown trust in him, it’s only right that he does the same. But it’s no ordinary secret he is thinking of telling Arthur - he could die for it. He bites the insides of his cheeks.
“It’s been an honour serving you,” he says. And he means it.
Arthur gives him a look before, “You’ll be coming back.” It wasn’t a question, not really.
Merlin looks away from him. “She’s my mother,” he explains, “I’ve got to look after her before anyone else. You understand?”
Arthur nods, just once. “I’ll do exactly the same.”
There is a long pause in which Merlin looks at Arthur, studies him and tries to etch every single detail of him into his memory. The chances of him coming back to Camelot are slim at best and if this is the last time he is going to look at Arthur, he is going to see him.
Arthur, though, is quite evidently not used to dealing with situations as such for he lets out an awkward cough before he attempts to lighten the situation by saying, “Well, you’ve been terrible. Really, I mean it. The worst servant I’ve ever had.”
Merlin knows he means anything but that and he can feel the words that he has spent nights preparing bubbling up his throat. But he forces them down and settles for a smile paired with, “Thank you, sire.”
He turns to leave. He should leave before Arthur says something to make him feel so guilty that he blurts everything out.
“Merlin,” Arthur suddenly calls and Merlin turns back to face him. Arthur’s eyebrows are drawn, solemn, “good luck.”
And Merlin turns to leave without a single word, not trusting himself to say anything except, “I’m a sorcerer, I’m sorry I lied.”
--
iii.
Merlin adjusts Arthur's chain mail and sighs. Arthur, in turn, gives him a look.
“What is it?” Arthur finally asks, exasperated, when he realizes that Merlin isn’t going to say anything, “I know you have something to say. You’re wearing your ‘if-I-say-this-I’ll-get-thrown-in-the-stocks’ look.”
Merlin lets out a slow grin. “Will I?” he asks, “Get thrown in the stocks, that is.”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “I am but a commoner now, am I not?”
Merlin frowns and makes a face. “I don’t know why you even bother doing this,” he admits, “You’re good at what you do and being good at jousting makes you win your opponents. Your rather id-” he cuts himself off suddenly, searching for a word that means ‘idiot’ in a much nicer way, “strange way of thinking that you’re winning because you’re the crown prince is…” He chances a glimpse at Arthur, who isn’t looking particularly pleased.
“Is?” Arthur prompts, the word coming out from him lips almost in a hiss.
“Is well, pardon me, sire,” Merlin crosses his hands at his back, “Rather idiotic, sire.”
Arthur glares at Merlin. “You have no idea what it’s like to be the Royal Prince,” he says solemnly, “Everyone lets me have my way, jousting opponents or not. Take Leon, for one. I’ve seen him train with the other knights and I know how good he is. But he deliberately let himself lose grip of his lance the other day just so he wouldn’t hurt me.” Arthur sighs and turns away from Merlin to look out of the tent. “Sometimes I feel like just because I’m the prince, everything I do is right. But it isn’t and it shouldn’t feel that way.”
Merlin snorts because that isn’t what he is used to hearing. Not from Arthur, at least.
Arthur glares at Merlin but it doesn’t really stop Merlin’s grin.
“It’s not funny!” Arthur exclaims, “It’s not fair that I have such advantage over others.”
“Most people would tell you that you’re being an ungrateful prat right now,” Merlin murmurs with a roll of his eyes.
“Most people aren’t my manservant,” Arthur retorts promptly, “And most people wouldn’t even dare to dream of saying something like that to me. Most people generally don’t show themselves to me.” Arthur sighs sadly and looks Merlin the eye. “I’m glad you’re not like most people, Merlin.”
Only he is.
Merlin’s smile dies almost immediately and he feels a lump at his throat. He thinks he should tell Arthur, he thinks Arthur at least deserves to know.
“Arthur, I am-”
A loud ring of the bell signals Arthur’s turn now and cuts Merlin’s words off. Arthur is still looking at him expectantly and Merlin manages to swallow his original words down and replace them with, “Good luck.”
--
iv.
Merlin is sitting in his cell, staring at the chains on his feet. He’d always known that there would be a day when someone -Morgana, for one- ousts him out as a sorcerer, but he never expects it to be Gaius.
He knows Gaius didn’t mean to, he knows Gaius was drugged into speaking nothing but the truth, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. Knowing that Gaius is at the cell next to his, locked up for being his accomplice, for harbouring a sorcerer, doesn’t help to numb the pain at all, too. If anything, it just makes him hate himself more.
He has been sitting there for quite some time now. There aren’t any windows to his cell so he cannot really estimate what time it is or how long he has gone without sleeping. His body feels numb - the result of the potion that was forced down his throat, a potion that is supposed to restrain his magic.
A rattle of keys tells him that someone is walking his way. Merlin doesn’t look up. There isn’t really anyone he wants to see now. From the corner of his eye, he sees feet outside his cell but he makes no effort to look up at all.
“Merlin.”
The voice is familiar and it sends a sting down Merlin’s entire body. He pulls himself up and walks to his visitor, dragging the chains as he walks, knowing that Arthur deserves at least an explanation.
“Arthur,” Merlin greets. His voice is hoarse. The last thing he had to drink was that potion they made him take. He doesn’t look into Arthur’s eyes. He cannot.
“Is it true?” Arthur’s voice is hushed but firm, “What they’re saying about you, all the accusation…is it true?”
Merlin can hear the hurt and the betrayal in Arthur’s voice and pain grips his stomach. He has betrayed Arthur’s trust in him.
He nods, just once.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur hisses and Merlin cannot help it, he laughs and it sounds so foreign, so detached, that even he pauses to wonder if it were really him that emitted the noise.
“Would you have understood?” he asks Arthur and this time he looks right into Arthur’s eyes.
Arthur doesn’t answer. It is enough for Merlin.
Merlin walks back into his cells and faces the wall. He doesn’t hear footsteps. Arthur isn’t leaving.
Then there is a metal clang and Merlin’s head snaps back to see a silver key on the ground, in the middle of the both of them. He looks up at Arthur whose face is stoic and fists are clenched tightly.
“Don’t come back.” It isn’t a warning, but more of a friendly reminder. And then Arthur is gone, his footsteps, firm and steady, leading away from the dungeons.