Ficlet: Everything and Then Some
Everything and Then Some | Merlin/Arthur | Futurefic | PG
Some spoilery material from S2 trailers, but more speculation than anything | A public outing lets some things end and others begin. Set during Arthur's reign as king.
Everything and Then Some
It's a coincidence, one of the universe's little jokes, that they find each other in this dusty room, both so desperate for time alone. Merlin smiles even though it feels hollow and warped, a grimacing mask of that once easy emotion. She sighs then, coming to a decision, and closes the door behind her.
"Merlin," Gwen greets, and motions to sit beside him on the window sill.
Merlin nods and makes a space for her, feeling like that's what he's been doing for years. It's unfair to think of it like that, unfair to blame her for problems that are all his own making, but the truth of it is undeniable.
He says, "I'm sorry," without looking up. He can feel the soft hum of acknowledgement from her.
"I am..." she starts, but hesitates and shakes her head. "No. No, I'm not sorry, not really."
Merlin looks at her and he must have a frightful expression because she scrambles to explain in her peculiar fountain of tangled phrases. Merlin sighs and tugs his legs close to himself. "I'm not angry with you," he says at last.
He should be angry with her. If he were angry it would be so much easier to hate her or condemn her for what she's done, but all he feels is hollow and alone. He likes to think he's managed to love well in the years since he's come to Camelot, both passionately and humbly, and that he's been a good man. But he's been tending a resentment in his heart, a tiny flicker of possessive jealousy that's grown into the vines choking all the soul out of him now. He is only angry with himself.
Gwen has made all her choices in good faith, with nothing but the best of intentions. It's not her fault that Arthur loved her.
"I did love him," she says, a little wistful, a little lost. Merlin's anger feeds on it and a small, vicious part of him is glad that she's hurting. And yet, before Arthur was anything more to him than an enormous prat, Gwen had been his friend. He owes her honesty, at least.
"I still do," he says. "Always."
She must find something in those words, some meaning that is hidden to himself, because she grabs his hand and squeezes hard. "Oh, Merlin."
Shaking his head, Merlin tries to clear his blurred vision. "I wasn't going to say anything to him if it meant losing my place at his side, I couldn't take that risk. You know how he was about the magic." Those days had been the worst. She frowns, clearly remembering what they have all tried so hard to forget. The space at their tables and in their hearts that can never be filled again.
But Merlin isn't prepared at all for the speculation in her gaze as their eyes meet. "You pushed him to marry me," she says, her frown deepening. "You insisted that we were meant for each other, he told me that when he... gods, Merlin, how is it possible that you didn't know?"
"What are you saying?" he asks. A feeling of dread creeps up his spine and he's suddenly grateful for her hand in his. And then it occurs to him, that she did love Arthur, but maybe never like that until he asked. He remembers her words when they'd all been so very young.
Who'd want to marry Arthur?
I like much more ordinary men.
Ordinary men like Lancelot, who had asked about Gwen that first week when Merlin had tried so hard to shape destiny for a friend and failed miserably. Was it any surprise that they would find each other again?
It occurs to him that, in all his self-sacrificial posturing, he'd never once considered if she would welcome his intervention. Of course, she accepted Arthur into her heart - how could she not? Merlin himself certainly didn't know how to turn off the part of him that loved Arthur with such horrible, fierce abandon.
"Merlin," she says and her voice wavers with the weight of tears. "We have wasted- oh, so much time. How- no, I can see how this happened, but Merlin, you don't understand."
Outside there are voices passing by, the sound of boots crushing small pebbles into the marble floor. Guards. He flicks Gwen an alarmed glance, but she just shakes her head and holds a finger to her lips.
"What?" he asks in a whisper.
"The knights want my head," she says lightly, like it's a game. "I think they are more hurt than he is, for some reason."
He thinks of the adoring, protective Gawain and the boys who've grown into men loving a beautifully vibrant queen from afar, safe in their knowledge that she belonged to their equally beloved king. It must feel like growing up all over again, learning that their parents - and now their queen and king - are simply human after all. Worse yet that one of their own has caused the rift and Merlin spares a thought for all the things Lancelot has lost in this.
"What did you mean," he says, "when you said we've wasted all this time? We did the right thing, didn't we? We made Camelot great."
King, Queen and Sorcerer. They had been magnificent.
Gwen looks lost for a moment, her thoughts chasing darkly across her face like black clouds across the sky outside. The weather is surprisingly suitable for the day their world ends. She shakes her head and grants him a tiny smile, something that reminds him of the people they used to be.
"Merlin," she says, solemnly like she's speaking her last goodbyes at a funeral. "Remember this. Arthur's heart is big enough for Albion, it's always been big enough for more than one person. We all made our choices, and we all loved foolishly."
Then she kisses him, a chaste touch of lips on lips. "Watch out for him, will you?"
Before Merlin can say anything the doors burst open and admit the harried Lancelot with two cloaked figures at his back. Dread steals across Merlin's skin and he doesn't dare breathe. There is magic in the air, more powerful than his own for the fact that there are two sources and hotly familiar - Morgana and Mordred. He should kill them both before they can escape, but it is Morgana throwing off her hood that stays his hand. She looks almost happy, older, and still incredibly beautiful.
She smiles at him, a darkness and depth lurking behind those eyes that makes him want to hide. "Merlin," she says. Gwen takes Lancelot's hand, touches Morgana's shoulder with the other, like she's grounding herself.
He nods at Morgana, unable to put into words all the things that need be said. Traitor. King-killer. Heart-breaker. "Morgana."
Her grin is sharp like a knife. "Why do you still cling to the words of an old, overgrown lizard?" The others disappear behind her, thieves in the night. Merlin thinks it might be for the best.
"He was never wrong."
Morgana snorts, unladylike, but then she hasn't been a lady for years. "He was right because you made him so. Destiny is what we make it, Merlin."
If only he could believe that. "That was always your problem, Morgana." His anger comes back in full force and he can feel his magic under his skin, itching to get out. He can take her now, without Mordred to back her up. He should.
He can't.
"You were always so proud, always so sure that you were right." His voice breaks, just a little. "But not all of us can just take what we want." He's almost yelling now. "We have to live in the real world."
She gives him a tired, worn smile, the one she would give Gaius when he handed her the potion that made her sleep. It's the kind of smile that comes before the flash of a knife. "We're taking Gwen and Lancelot. If you change your mind," she says, "you will know where to find us." She turns and stalks out the door, her parting words more thought than whisper, but he hears them loud and clear.
"Do not come alone."
Merlin takes one deep, shaking breath when the tip of a sword digs into the soft place between his shoulders. If the sword were driven through him, it would skewer his heart, but he can feel the glow of its magic. Excalibur can never hurt him. He breathes once, twice, and waits.
"Are you going to leave me, too?" Arthur's voice comes weary and edged, rough as if he's been screaming for hours. Maybe he has.
As the pressure of steel drops from his back, Merlin turns to Arthur. He looks... destroyed. His eyes shine with unshed tears, but there is an emptiness in them that freezes Merlin to the spot. Words fail him, except for one.
"Never."
The truth of it hurts. Arthur loves him in his own way, but that doesn't sate the beast raging in his chest. He wants, always has. Whatever they can do for each other, it will not be enough. Merlin reaches out and Arthur lets him touch his shoulder without flinching. It might be a good sign. It might be exhaustion.
"You're not happy here," Arthur says, his voice as hollow as Merlin's heart. "You should go with them." He makes to turn away, but Merlin won't let him. Not now, maybe not ever. He steps close and wraps himself around Arthur in a desperate embrace.
Arthur's hair tickles the side of his face as he says, "I told you before, I'm happy to be your servant - and your friend - until the day I die."
Arthur begins to tremble. Merlin doesn't dare look at him, for fear of triggering all of Arthur's defenses. "Friend," Arthur says, like the word itself is wrapped in jagged broken glass.
Merlin sighs. "I am your friend, you must know that." They're still standing in the dark, curled into each other, and Merlin has no idea how to let go. Then again, that has always been his problem, hasn't it? "I would do anything for you."
They're like children in the night, clinging to each other for warmth and the illusion of shelter. Arthur's breath hitches. "Anything? Don't say something like that if you don't mean it." When he speaks, Arthur's breath ghosts over the skin of Merlin's neck, raising hope like goose bumps.
"Anything."
Arthur pushes him away and Merlin doesn't resist, even though he wants to stay right where he can feel Arthur's heart beat against his chest. Arthur looks at him, frowning, searching for something in his face. "Why did you tell me to marry Gwen?"
Merlin clenches his teeth. If Arthur wants to blame him, he can take that burden too, and he will. "I'm sorry-"
Arthur seals his mouth with the palm of his right hand. "No. None of that. Tell me what you were thinking." The hand disappears and Merlin feels its loss.
Back then they were all friends, back then they all believed in happy endings. He thinks of Morgana and Mordred in the South, at the head of an army. He thinks of them here, saving their friend from heart-broken knights. Perhaps it is just him and his ridiculous, amazing king that don't get to partake in the happily ever after.
"I wanted you to be happy, that's the only thing I ever wanted."
In the silence that follows, Merlin can hear the frustrated yelling of the knights. It sounds like Lancelot and Gwen have managed to escape. And quite suddenly, Arthur bursts into laughter laced with an edge of hysteria.
Merlin blinks.
Arthur doubles over, gasping, trying to speak and failing utterly. "I-" gasp "I can't even-" giggle "you-" undignified snort "such an idiot-"
Maybe he is an idiot, because he's absolutely lost and Arthur appears to have lost his mind and there's a war coming for them and their friends are all traitors to the crown who want them to live in the forest with them and their druid allies and the dragon. He doesn't get it, doesn't understand what this is and why Arthur is grinning at him.
"Merlin," Arthur says, looking up from where he's fallen to his knees. Merlin tries not to think about the position too hard.
"Arthur?"
"Come down here, would you?" Arthur sounds amused and a little winded. Merlin is confused. He feels every bit the naive country boy he used to be, so for once he doesn't argue and sits down on the cold stone floor.
Arthur smiles, and even though the lines of his grief are still visible, they seem somewhat subdued. "Years, Merlin," Arthur says, reproach in his voice. "Years."
That's all Arthur says before he leans close - closer, they were mere inches apart to begin with - and brings their mouths together.
Oh.
It's not a coincidence that they find each other here, on the floor of a dusty room, desperate not to be alone. The dragon would call it destiny, but Merlin knows better. It's what they make it.
Some spoilery material from S2 trailers, but more speculation than anything | A public outing lets some things end and others begin. Set during Arthur's reign as king.
Everything and Then Some
It's a coincidence, one of the universe's little jokes, that they find each other in this dusty room, both so desperate for time alone. Merlin smiles even though it feels hollow and warped, a grimacing mask of that once easy emotion. She sighs then, coming to a decision, and closes the door behind her.
"Merlin," Gwen greets, and motions to sit beside him on the window sill.
Merlin nods and makes a space for her, feeling like that's what he's been doing for years. It's unfair to think of it like that, unfair to blame her for problems that are all his own making, but the truth of it is undeniable.
He says, "I'm sorry," without looking up. He can feel the soft hum of acknowledgement from her.
"I am..." she starts, but hesitates and shakes her head. "No. No, I'm not sorry, not really."
Merlin looks at her and he must have a frightful expression because she scrambles to explain in her peculiar fountain of tangled phrases. Merlin sighs and tugs his legs close to himself. "I'm not angry with you," he says at last.
He should be angry with her. If he were angry it would be so much easier to hate her or condemn her for what she's done, but all he feels is hollow and alone. He likes to think he's managed to love well in the years since he's come to Camelot, both passionately and humbly, and that he's been a good man. But he's been tending a resentment in his heart, a tiny flicker of possessive jealousy that's grown into the vines choking all the soul out of him now. He is only angry with himself.
Gwen has made all her choices in good faith, with nothing but the best of intentions. It's not her fault that Arthur loved her.
"I did love him," she says, a little wistful, a little lost. Merlin's anger feeds on it and a small, vicious part of him is glad that she's hurting. And yet, before Arthur was anything more to him than an enormous prat, Gwen had been his friend. He owes her honesty, at least.
"I still do," he says. "Always."
She must find something in those words, some meaning that is hidden to himself, because she grabs his hand and squeezes hard. "Oh, Merlin."
Shaking his head, Merlin tries to clear his blurred vision. "I wasn't going to say anything to him if it meant losing my place at his side, I couldn't take that risk. You know how he was about the magic." Those days had been the worst. She frowns, clearly remembering what they have all tried so hard to forget. The space at their tables and in their hearts that can never be filled again.
But Merlin isn't prepared at all for the speculation in her gaze as their eyes meet. "You pushed him to marry me," she says, her frown deepening. "You insisted that we were meant for each other, he told me that when he... gods, Merlin, how is it possible that you didn't know?"
"What are you saying?" he asks. A feeling of dread creeps up his spine and he's suddenly grateful for her hand in his. And then it occurs to him, that she did love Arthur, but maybe never like that until he asked. He remembers her words when they'd all been so very young.
Who'd want to marry Arthur?
I like much more ordinary men.
Ordinary men like Lancelot, who had asked about Gwen that first week when Merlin had tried so hard to shape destiny for a friend and failed miserably. Was it any surprise that they would find each other again?
It occurs to him that, in all his self-sacrificial posturing, he'd never once considered if she would welcome his intervention. Of course, she accepted Arthur into her heart - how could she not? Merlin himself certainly didn't know how to turn off the part of him that loved Arthur with such horrible, fierce abandon.
"Merlin," she says and her voice wavers with the weight of tears. "We have wasted- oh, so much time. How- no, I can see how this happened, but Merlin, you don't understand."
Outside there are voices passing by, the sound of boots crushing small pebbles into the marble floor. Guards. He flicks Gwen an alarmed glance, but she just shakes her head and holds a finger to her lips.
"What?" he asks in a whisper.
"The knights want my head," she says lightly, like it's a game. "I think they are more hurt than he is, for some reason."
He thinks of the adoring, protective Gawain and the boys who've grown into men loving a beautifully vibrant queen from afar, safe in their knowledge that she belonged to their equally beloved king. It must feel like growing up all over again, learning that their parents - and now their queen and king - are simply human after all. Worse yet that one of their own has caused the rift and Merlin spares a thought for all the things Lancelot has lost in this.
"What did you mean," he says, "when you said we've wasted all this time? We did the right thing, didn't we? We made Camelot great."
King, Queen and Sorcerer. They had been magnificent.
Gwen looks lost for a moment, her thoughts chasing darkly across her face like black clouds across the sky outside. The weather is surprisingly suitable for the day their world ends. She shakes her head and grants him a tiny smile, something that reminds him of the people they used to be.
"Merlin," she says, solemnly like she's speaking her last goodbyes at a funeral. "Remember this. Arthur's heart is big enough for Albion, it's always been big enough for more than one person. We all made our choices, and we all loved foolishly."
Then she kisses him, a chaste touch of lips on lips. "Watch out for him, will you?"
Before Merlin can say anything the doors burst open and admit the harried Lancelot with two cloaked figures at his back. Dread steals across Merlin's skin and he doesn't dare breathe. There is magic in the air, more powerful than his own for the fact that there are two sources and hotly familiar - Morgana and Mordred. He should kill them both before they can escape, but it is Morgana throwing off her hood that stays his hand. She looks almost happy, older, and still incredibly beautiful.
She smiles at him, a darkness and depth lurking behind those eyes that makes him want to hide. "Merlin," she says. Gwen takes Lancelot's hand, touches Morgana's shoulder with the other, like she's grounding herself.
He nods at Morgana, unable to put into words all the things that need be said. Traitor. King-killer. Heart-breaker. "Morgana."
Her grin is sharp like a knife. "Why do you still cling to the words of an old, overgrown lizard?" The others disappear behind her, thieves in the night. Merlin thinks it might be for the best.
"He was never wrong."
Morgana snorts, unladylike, but then she hasn't been a lady for years. "He was right because you made him so. Destiny is what we make it, Merlin."
If only he could believe that. "That was always your problem, Morgana." His anger comes back in full force and he can feel his magic under his skin, itching to get out. He can take her now, without Mordred to back her up. He should.
He can't.
"You were always so proud, always so sure that you were right." His voice breaks, just a little. "But not all of us can just take what we want." He's almost yelling now. "We have to live in the real world."
She gives him a tired, worn smile, the one she would give Gaius when he handed her the potion that made her sleep. It's the kind of smile that comes before the flash of a knife. "We're taking Gwen and Lancelot. If you change your mind," she says, "you will know where to find us." She turns and stalks out the door, her parting words more thought than whisper, but he hears them loud and clear.
"Do not come alone."
Merlin takes one deep, shaking breath when the tip of a sword digs into the soft place between his shoulders. If the sword were driven through him, it would skewer his heart, but he can feel the glow of its magic. Excalibur can never hurt him. He breathes once, twice, and waits.
"Are you going to leave me, too?" Arthur's voice comes weary and edged, rough as if he's been screaming for hours. Maybe he has.
As the pressure of steel drops from his back, Merlin turns to Arthur. He looks... destroyed. His eyes shine with unshed tears, but there is an emptiness in them that freezes Merlin to the spot. Words fail him, except for one.
"Never."
The truth of it hurts. Arthur loves him in his own way, but that doesn't sate the beast raging in his chest. He wants, always has. Whatever they can do for each other, it will not be enough. Merlin reaches out and Arthur lets him touch his shoulder without flinching. It might be a good sign. It might be exhaustion.
"You're not happy here," Arthur says, his voice as hollow as Merlin's heart. "You should go with them." He makes to turn away, but Merlin won't let him. Not now, maybe not ever. He steps close and wraps himself around Arthur in a desperate embrace.
Arthur's hair tickles the side of his face as he says, "I told you before, I'm happy to be your servant - and your friend - until the day I die."
Arthur begins to tremble. Merlin doesn't dare look at him, for fear of triggering all of Arthur's defenses. "Friend," Arthur says, like the word itself is wrapped in jagged broken glass.
Merlin sighs. "I am your friend, you must know that." They're still standing in the dark, curled into each other, and Merlin has no idea how to let go. Then again, that has always been his problem, hasn't it? "I would do anything for you."
They're like children in the night, clinging to each other for warmth and the illusion of shelter. Arthur's breath hitches. "Anything? Don't say something like that if you don't mean it." When he speaks, Arthur's breath ghosts over the skin of Merlin's neck, raising hope like goose bumps.
"Anything."
Arthur pushes him away and Merlin doesn't resist, even though he wants to stay right where he can feel Arthur's heart beat against his chest. Arthur looks at him, frowning, searching for something in his face. "Why did you tell me to marry Gwen?"
Merlin clenches his teeth. If Arthur wants to blame him, he can take that burden too, and he will. "I'm sorry-"
Arthur seals his mouth with the palm of his right hand. "No. None of that. Tell me what you were thinking." The hand disappears and Merlin feels its loss.
Back then they were all friends, back then they all believed in happy endings. He thinks of Morgana and Mordred in the South, at the head of an army. He thinks of them here, saving their friend from heart-broken knights. Perhaps it is just him and his ridiculous, amazing king that don't get to partake in the happily ever after.
"I wanted you to be happy, that's the only thing I ever wanted."
In the silence that follows, Merlin can hear the frustrated yelling of the knights. It sounds like Lancelot and Gwen have managed to escape. And quite suddenly, Arthur bursts into laughter laced with an edge of hysteria.
Merlin blinks.
Arthur doubles over, gasping, trying to speak and failing utterly. "I-" gasp "I can't even-" giggle "you-" undignified snort "such an idiot-"
Maybe he is an idiot, because he's absolutely lost and Arthur appears to have lost his mind and there's a war coming for them and their friends are all traitors to the crown who want them to live in the forest with them and their druid allies and the dragon. He doesn't get it, doesn't understand what this is and why Arthur is grinning at him.
"Merlin," Arthur says, looking up from where he's fallen to his knees. Merlin tries not to think about the position too hard.
"Arthur?"
"Come down here, would you?" Arthur sounds amused and a little winded. Merlin is confused. He feels every bit the naive country boy he used to be, so for once he doesn't argue and sits down on the cold stone floor.
Arthur smiles, and even though the lines of his grief are still visible, they seem somewhat subdued. "Years, Merlin," Arthur says, reproach in his voice. "Years."
That's all Arthur says before he leans close - closer, they were mere inches apart to begin with - and brings their mouths together.
Oh.
It's not a coincidence that they find each other here, on the floor of a dusty room, desperate not to be alone. The dragon would call it destiny, but Merlin knows better. It's what they make it.