Fic - A Quiet Decision (4/4)
Part 4 - Heading in Part 1
“Well, here we are.” Merlin climbed off his horse, wrapping the reins around a nearby branch.
Arthur silently followed suit and continued his Merlin-watching while his manservant studied the ground, looking for the particular flowers he needed.
“Can I help?”
“Um, no?” Merlin gave him an apologetic look. “It’s just that it would probably take longer for me to explain what you’re looking for.”
“Right. I’ll just…” Arthur indicated to the lakeshore. It wasn’t hot this time of year, but some of the heaviness of summer still remained. As he stared at the peaceful water, Arthur got the urge to do something he’d not done in more years than he cared to think about. Leaving his manservant to his plant search, he made his way to the bank and sat down, making quick work of removing his boots and rolling his breeches up far as they would comfortably go. Standing up, he made his way to the very edge, sitting down in what was probably mud that Merlin would no doubt complain about having to wash out, but he didn’t care. He lowered his feet until he was calf-deep in the cool water. It was colder than Arthur anticipated, but not unwelcome. He kicked his feet underneath the water to warm them, hands by his sides and leaning back to enjoy the late-afternoon sunshine. Arthur let his eyes fall shut and breathed in the air, rich with scents from trees sprouting fruit and blossoms; giving the last of their glory before harvest season was upon them. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but after a while he heard the rustling of someone else and opened his eyes to find Merlin removing his own boots.
“How’s the water?”
“It’s fine. Wouldn’t know summer was almost gone, really.” The yelp Merlin gave after dunking his feet caused Arthur to laugh, breaking the silence around them and startling a nearby bird.
“It’s bloody cold!” Merlin gave him a sour look, but made no effort to remove his feet.
“Stop being such a girl, Merlin.” Arthur kicked his feet sending no small amount of water up to soak Merlin’s calves. It had the unfortunately side effect of getting his own legs a bit wetter, but Arthur could live with that based on the look Merlin was giving him. “Be careful. I can have you punished when we get back.”
“Oh, I think it just might be worth it.” The full smile was all the warning Arthur got before Merlin turned slightly, kicking his feet like mad and spraying up water everywhere.
“Oi! Merlin!” He would not let his insane manservant win this war. He scooted back just a bit to give himself room and kicked up his own spray, efficiently soaking them both much faster. And then by unspoken agreement they both slowly stopped kicking; both fairly wet and laughing freely, all thoughts of position and propriety lost as they allowed themselves just a moment to be friends. Well, Arthur allowed it. Merlin seemed to forget his place and all required acts of propriety on a daily basis. As they stopped laughing and drew in great gasps of air, Arthur could see the slight nervousness reflected back to him from Merlin’s features. “I’m glad I came to find you, Merlin. Even if I did have to come up with the plan myself.”
“Getting us both soaked - that was your great plan?!” Merlin gave him an incredulous look.
“Well, you certainly didn’t seem to have a better one.” Arthur was feeling generous enough not to point-out that it had actually been Merlin’s idea to get them soaking wet and cut off any sort of response by getting up and assessing the damage. His pants were a total loss - not a dry spot anywhere. His shirt was soaked through near the waist, but thankfully his chest and shoulders were only wet in spots. It was getting chilly as the sun slowly sank lower on the horizon, but Arthur found he wasn’t quite ready to leave his freedom behind just yet. “Merlin, get a fire started, will you? We need to dry off.”
“Of course, sire.”
Arthur magnanimously chose to ignore the sarcasm in favor of removing his belt and leather vest. The looser his clothing, the faster it would dry. That he was sure of. Merlin didn’t have to look very far for dry wood. The rains had not been heavy of late, but Arthur was glad for it in this case - he was getting a spectacular view of Merlin’s arse without having to actually follow him. The wet pants were doing a nice job of clinging, even as loose as they were.
And though those sorts of thoughts would have bothered him months ago, (and he wasn’t quite sure when that had changed) they did go a long way in, perhaps, explaining why it was he would often throw himself in front of his father, swords, or even ladies that seemed to have Merlin in their sights.
Arthur forced himself to look away from Merlin’s damp backside, in order to evaluate their surroundings. This didn’t look like a well-travelled area, at least for humans, and the trees would easy provide at some bit of shelter if the weather decided to turn against them. Before he even realized he’d made a decision, Merlin had the wood stacked and a fire roared to life in front of him. He watched as his manservant dutifully (and wasn’t that an odd word to describe Merlin) went about securing a log for them to sit upon and removed some supplies from his horse.
“How long did you plan on staying out here?”
“Overnight.” Arthur tried valiantly to make it sound like he’d not just thought that up two seconds before saying it.
Merlin gave him a look, and then made another cursory inspection of their available supplies. Arthur went over to his horse to grab his bedroll, realizing belatedly he hadn’t brought anything but himself on this trip.
“It’s not that cold. You can have one of my blankets.”
It wasn’t that cold, Arthur agreed. It was unlike him, however, to make rash decisions that couldn’t easily be dealt with. Sure - he could order Merlin back to the castle for his bedroll and some dinner; the urge was *right there* under his skin. If he sent him away, then he would have hours alone with which to ponder his apparent acceptance of feelings he’d been valiantly ignoring. He’d be prepared. As he looked over at Merlin, the line of his body and his stance seemed to suggest to Arthur he was expecting that very command. And that made the decision for him.
“Thank you, Merlin. And I suppose you have a pillow, as well?” Merlin shrugged and nodded his head in the affirmative, but he seemed visibly relieved at not being sent on a fool’s errand.
“I don’t know why I bother. Someone else always ends-up with it,” Merlin grumbled under his breath.
“You’re far too nice for your own good, Merlin.”
“Does that mean next time you ask me for something, I can say no?” Merlin gave him a quizzical, almost hopeful look.
“Of course not! I’m the Prince - you’re my manservant. It’s expected. Just, stop being so bloody nice to every other person in the world.”
Merlin gave a soft snort in lieu of a reply that would no doubt have seen him in the stocks.
They fixed their sleeping spots in silence, both choosing to sleep near the fire. Merlin was done first, Arthur following close behind as they returned to the log, thighs nearly touching. Arthur wondered if Merlin took it upon himself to find the shortest log possible. It’s what he would have done, after all. Both of them stretched-out as comfortably as their positions would let them, allowing their clothing to dry and the fire warm them against the growing chill upon the evening air. Eventually, Arthur felt less like he’d taken a bath with his clothes on and more like he’d simply put on some damp pants. Still a bit uncomfortable with the drop in temperature, but not unbearable. Merlin had sat next to him the entire time chatting idly as he most often did. He learned that several staff relationships had apparently shifted since the last time he’d bothered to pay attention to Merlin’s ramblings and the cook was already dreading the Yule celebration feast because evidently there was always a severe shortage of able servants around to deal with the preparations come winter. Arthur often wondered if he would ever know any of these things if it weren’t for Merlin’s presence in his life.
”Oi! You’re not even listening are you?” Merlin was smiling at him with a glint in his eye just daring Arthur to call him on his insolence. He was about to oblige, when a wine bottle presented itself in front of his face.
“Bribery used to be beneath you, Merlin,” Arthur chided.
“No. I’m just usually more subtle.” Merlin was out-and-out grinning, now. Arthur was glad. He wasn’t in the mood for cagey, timid Merlin, tonight. This time, it was Arthur’s turn to snort in reply just before he took a drink of the wine. “Please enlighten me, Merlin; when are you ever subtle?!”
Merlin just kept his grin in place, only breaking to take his own gulp of the wine bottle when Arthur unconsciously passed it back to him. “Manservant secret. Can’t tell.”
Arthur laughed at that, unbidden. This was what he had come in search of. The tight knot of frustration and rigidity that had taken residence in his chest over the last month-or-so unraveled with the hearty laughter that only Merlin could seem to bring forth. “I’m the Prince - I could order you to tell me.”
Merlin chuckled. “Well I suppose if you wanted to prove how much of a prat you are...”
“Hey!” Arthur smacked him, half-heartedly, across his shoulder. “That’s Prince-Prat to you, Merlin.” It took him a moment to realize what he’d actually said, and looking at Merlin’s widest grin he realized it didn’t get past him, either. “No…”
“Oh, I think you have a new title, sire…”
“Merlin, if you ever call me that I will have you thrown in the dungeons for a week.”
“Of course, my prattish Prince,” Merlin laughed.
“Merlin…” Arthur tried glaring his most princely glare but it didn’t seem to have any effect on Merlin, who was still laughing. Arthur grabbed for the wine in a huff, fingers tangling with Merlin’s and causing him to focus on that one part of his body in a split second. Merlin must have felt it, because his laughter ceased and he just stared at Arthur, and then at where Arthur’s fingers met with his on the wine bottle.
“Take it, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was soft, but sure.
He did, drowning anything else he wanted to say by taking a large swig of wine and making a grandiose deal out of swallowing. When he looked back over at his manservant, he decided he needed yet another swig before giving-up the wine again.
Merlin was just staring at him.
Their fingers fumbled together again as Merlin took back the wine bottle without ceasing his study of Arthur. He refused to be the first to break, but Merlin’s staring was definitely making him nervous. He knew he wasn’t supposed to care what someone like Merlin, a servant, thought of him. He had always been taught that servants were expendable and yet here he sat next to the same man he’d risked his life for after only knowing him a few months. He should have known, then. He should have sacked his ridiculous manservant and found someone less… less like someone Arthur could love.
Damn.
He broke the look, then, hoping Merlin couldn’t see the look of shock he couldn’t quite keep off his face.
“I win.” Merlin tried to be light, but the heavy mood that surrounded them squashed any hope of levity.
Arthur wasn’t in the mood to admit to Merlin how true that statement actually was. It was no secret how many ladies of the court and visiting daughters of nobles had tried to win the heart and hand of Camelot’s young prince. Before, Arthur had simply been un-interested in settling down with anyone. The endless parade of suitors that started several years ago amused him. Now, the thought found him un-settled more than not. He didn’t want some pre-arranged marriage for the sake of land or alliance. The idea of finding someone he could love freely among the typical choices, however, seemed like a child’s dream. It didn’t help, of course, that he really wasn’t even looking, anymore. Not since blue eyes and wild, flailing limbs invaded his space. Not since a rather bold new arrival in Camelot challenged him on the street.
“Yes, you did.” Merlin looked at him like he wasn’t expecting the admission. “Long ago, Merlin. I told you I could take you down with one blow and you told me you could do it with less.”
Merlin dropped his gaze - clearly his time in Arthur’s service had at least taught him something. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time Arthur wanted servitude. “You were right. It just took me awhile to see it.”
Merlin looked up at him in genuine confusion and Arthur had enough. “Don’t tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about because I bloody well know you do.” Anger helped, he reasoned. Gave him the energy to say the things he could never say, otherwise. “You know you’re a terrible servant, Merlin, and yet I never really sack you. Ever. I could - a million times over. My father, the King, would be overjoyed if I suddenly decided you weren’t worth the trouble, anymore. Sure, you’re loyal and you keep me out of trouble most times but you’re also insolent, insubordinate and entirely too mouthy.” Arthur had abandoned his seat next to Merlin and was in full pacing, rant-mode now. Staying next to Merlin’s heat and having to stare at those blue orbs would be the death of him at this point. “Have you ever really asked yourself ‘why’? Why does Arthur keep me around? Why hasn’t he actually sacked me?”
“Of course.”
It was quiet but confident, and so unlike what he’d been expecting it got Arthur’s attention.
“I ask myself why I care so much. I often have to ask myself why I willingly do things that will land me in the stocks, again, when I clearly shouldn’t even have this job.” His grin is small, but it’s there. “I ask myself how I can see a great future king in such a royal prat.” Merlin stills for second, gathering courage, perhaps, Arthur thinks. “But then I look at you, Arthur. I see you standing in front of my mum in Ealdor, helping my village to fend-off bandits when it’s not even in your own kingdom. I see you get frustrated because you realize people treat you differently as the prince. I see your amusement, often at my expense granted, when you pull pranks or do any number of things that show me the real Arthur.” Merlin stills, the slight amount of self-preservation he possesses kicking-in. Arthur can tell he’s waiting for his reaction.
“If I wasn’t the Prince. It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?”
Merlin doesn’t say anything, just looks at him. It’s raw and open and Arthur finds the courage to look him in the eyes. Both of them look away - the intensity is too much. “That’s why I came out here. I didn’t want to be ‘Prince Arthur’ for just awhile. But I am, aren’t I. Always.”
“Not with me. Sure, I treat you the way I should, mostly,” Merlin hastily adds at the incredulous look Arthur shoots him “but not when we’re just by ourselves. Not now.”
“Hence you are clearly the worst manservant, ever.” Arthur drones, but there is no heat in it.
“And yet I am still your manservant, to the confusion of Gaius, your father and frankly half the castle.”
Arthur sits back down next to Merlin, still avoiding looking at him. “I can’t let you go.”
Merlin smiles fully, ducking his head and almost laughing to himself. “Figured that out, already.”
“Idiot.”
“Prat.”
They sit in silence for a moment, each wrestling with their own truths. Arthur is grateful when Merlin is the first to break. “Does any of that matter, Arthur? When we’re alone, just the two of us, we can just be. Here, now. This is us.”
Arthur looks over at him, disbelieving. “Of course it matters, Merlin! Everything matters! Everything I say, everything I do - it all matters.”
“Who does it matter to?” Merlin’s voice was soft, gentle and Arthur found a tiny bit of the tension un-winding. “Who is here, Arthur, for it to matter?”
Arthur studied the leaves on the ground, his boots, Merlin’s - anything to avoid looking him in the eye for fear he’d fall apart. “It matters to me,” Arthur nearly whispered. “It matters to you.”
“Then why not,” Merlin whispered, leaning closer on the log, his lips ghosting the shell of Arthur’s ear, close enough to touch, “if it only matters to us?”
Arthur had no response to that. Realistically he knew there would be others involved at some point. He was the Crown Prince and he would never be able to escape certain obligations no matter how much he might wish it. Merlin - Merlin was impatient and pushy and guileless and …kissing him. While he was going over strategy and making plans in his mind, Merlin did what he always did. He just acted on what he felt.
That wouldn’t hold up in his Father’s court, but Arthur had heard Merlin tell him enough times that he would be a great king. Arthur longed for the day when he could stand-up for what he felt and believed in. When the pressure on his own mouth faded, he chased Merlin’s retreating lips, kissing him back with all the reckless abandon he could muster. It was strange still, but as Merlin’s lips parted for him and he tasted the warmth of his mouth and ran his tongue along Merlin’s eliciting a groan - it no longer mattered. He’d seen magical beasts, been put under spells and dealt with the eccentricities of his manservant every day.
Compared to that, loving him would be easy.
“Well, here we are.” Merlin climbed off his horse, wrapping the reins around a nearby branch.
Arthur silently followed suit and continued his Merlin-watching while his manservant studied the ground, looking for the particular flowers he needed.
“Can I help?”
“Um, no?” Merlin gave him an apologetic look. “It’s just that it would probably take longer for me to explain what you’re looking for.”
“Right. I’ll just…” Arthur indicated to the lakeshore. It wasn’t hot this time of year, but some of the heaviness of summer still remained. As he stared at the peaceful water, Arthur got the urge to do something he’d not done in more years than he cared to think about. Leaving his manservant to his plant search, he made his way to the bank and sat down, making quick work of removing his boots and rolling his breeches up far as they would comfortably go. Standing up, he made his way to the very edge, sitting down in what was probably mud that Merlin would no doubt complain about having to wash out, but he didn’t care. He lowered his feet until he was calf-deep in the cool water. It was colder than Arthur anticipated, but not unwelcome. He kicked his feet underneath the water to warm them, hands by his sides and leaning back to enjoy the late-afternoon sunshine. Arthur let his eyes fall shut and breathed in the air, rich with scents from trees sprouting fruit and blossoms; giving the last of their glory before harvest season was upon them. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but after a while he heard the rustling of someone else and opened his eyes to find Merlin removing his own boots.
“How’s the water?”
“It’s fine. Wouldn’t know summer was almost gone, really.” The yelp Merlin gave after dunking his feet caused Arthur to laugh, breaking the silence around them and startling a nearby bird.
“It’s bloody cold!” Merlin gave him a sour look, but made no effort to remove his feet.
“Stop being such a girl, Merlin.” Arthur kicked his feet sending no small amount of water up to soak Merlin’s calves. It had the unfortunately side effect of getting his own legs a bit wetter, but Arthur could live with that based on the look Merlin was giving him. “Be careful. I can have you punished when we get back.”
“Oh, I think it just might be worth it.” The full smile was all the warning Arthur got before Merlin turned slightly, kicking his feet like mad and spraying up water everywhere.
“Oi! Merlin!” He would not let his insane manservant win this war. He scooted back just a bit to give himself room and kicked up his own spray, efficiently soaking them both much faster. And then by unspoken agreement they both slowly stopped kicking; both fairly wet and laughing freely, all thoughts of position and propriety lost as they allowed themselves just a moment to be friends. Well, Arthur allowed it. Merlin seemed to forget his place and all required acts of propriety on a daily basis. As they stopped laughing and drew in great gasps of air, Arthur could see the slight nervousness reflected back to him from Merlin’s features. “I’m glad I came to find you, Merlin. Even if I did have to come up with the plan myself.”
“Getting us both soaked - that was your great plan?!” Merlin gave him an incredulous look.
“Well, you certainly didn’t seem to have a better one.” Arthur was feeling generous enough not to point-out that it had actually been Merlin’s idea to get them soaking wet and cut off any sort of response by getting up and assessing the damage. His pants were a total loss - not a dry spot anywhere. His shirt was soaked through near the waist, but thankfully his chest and shoulders were only wet in spots. It was getting chilly as the sun slowly sank lower on the horizon, but Arthur found he wasn’t quite ready to leave his freedom behind just yet. “Merlin, get a fire started, will you? We need to dry off.”
“Of course, sire.”
Arthur magnanimously chose to ignore the sarcasm in favor of removing his belt and leather vest. The looser his clothing, the faster it would dry. That he was sure of. Merlin didn’t have to look very far for dry wood. The rains had not been heavy of late, but Arthur was glad for it in this case - he was getting a spectacular view of Merlin’s arse without having to actually follow him. The wet pants were doing a nice job of clinging, even as loose as they were.
And though those sorts of thoughts would have bothered him months ago, (and he wasn’t quite sure when that had changed) they did go a long way in, perhaps, explaining why it was he would often throw himself in front of his father, swords, or even ladies that seemed to have Merlin in their sights.
Arthur forced himself to look away from Merlin’s damp backside, in order to evaluate their surroundings. This didn’t look like a well-travelled area, at least for humans, and the trees would easy provide at some bit of shelter if the weather decided to turn against them. Before he even realized he’d made a decision, Merlin had the wood stacked and a fire roared to life in front of him. He watched as his manservant dutifully (and wasn’t that an odd word to describe Merlin) went about securing a log for them to sit upon and removed some supplies from his horse.
“How long did you plan on staying out here?”
“Overnight.” Arthur tried valiantly to make it sound like he’d not just thought that up two seconds before saying it.
Merlin gave him a look, and then made another cursory inspection of their available supplies. Arthur went over to his horse to grab his bedroll, realizing belatedly he hadn’t brought anything but himself on this trip.
“It’s not that cold. You can have one of my blankets.”
It wasn’t that cold, Arthur agreed. It was unlike him, however, to make rash decisions that couldn’t easily be dealt with. Sure - he could order Merlin back to the castle for his bedroll and some dinner; the urge was *right there* under his skin. If he sent him away, then he would have hours alone with which to ponder his apparent acceptance of feelings he’d been valiantly ignoring. He’d be prepared. As he looked over at Merlin, the line of his body and his stance seemed to suggest to Arthur he was expecting that very command. And that made the decision for him.
“Thank you, Merlin. And I suppose you have a pillow, as well?” Merlin shrugged and nodded his head in the affirmative, but he seemed visibly relieved at not being sent on a fool’s errand.
“I don’t know why I bother. Someone else always ends-up with it,” Merlin grumbled under his breath.
“You’re far too nice for your own good, Merlin.”
“Does that mean next time you ask me for something, I can say no?” Merlin gave him a quizzical, almost hopeful look.
“Of course not! I’m the Prince - you’re my manservant. It’s expected. Just, stop being so bloody nice to every other person in the world.”
Merlin gave a soft snort in lieu of a reply that would no doubt have seen him in the stocks.
They fixed their sleeping spots in silence, both choosing to sleep near the fire. Merlin was done first, Arthur following close behind as they returned to the log, thighs nearly touching. Arthur wondered if Merlin took it upon himself to find the shortest log possible. It’s what he would have done, after all. Both of them stretched-out as comfortably as their positions would let them, allowing their clothing to dry and the fire warm them against the growing chill upon the evening air. Eventually, Arthur felt less like he’d taken a bath with his clothes on and more like he’d simply put on some damp pants. Still a bit uncomfortable with the drop in temperature, but not unbearable. Merlin had sat next to him the entire time chatting idly as he most often did. He learned that several staff relationships had apparently shifted since the last time he’d bothered to pay attention to Merlin’s ramblings and the cook was already dreading the Yule celebration feast because evidently there was always a severe shortage of able servants around to deal with the preparations come winter. Arthur often wondered if he would ever know any of these things if it weren’t for Merlin’s presence in his life.
”Oi! You’re not even listening are you?” Merlin was smiling at him with a glint in his eye just daring Arthur to call him on his insolence. He was about to oblige, when a wine bottle presented itself in front of his face.
“Bribery used to be beneath you, Merlin,” Arthur chided.
“No. I’m just usually more subtle.” Merlin was out-and-out grinning, now. Arthur was glad. He wasn’t in the mood for cagey, timid Merlin, tonight. This time, it was Arthur’s turn to snort in reply just before he took a drink of the wine. “Please enlighten me, Merlin; when are you ever subtle?!”
Merlin just kept his grin in place, only breaking to take his own gulp of the wine bottle when Arthur unconsciously passed it back to him. “Manservant secret. Can’t tell.”
Arthur laughed at that, unbidden. This was what he had come in search of. The tight knot of frustration and rigidity that had taken residence in his chest over the last month-or-so unraveled with the hearty laughter that only Merlin could seem to bring forth. “I’m the Prince - I could order you to tell me.”
Merlin chuckled. “Well I suppose if you wanted to prove how much of a prat you are...”
“Hey!” Arthur smacked him, half-heartedly, across his shoulder. “That’s Prince-Prat to you, Merlin.” It took him a moment to realize what he’d actually said, and looking at Merlin’s widest grin he realized it didn’t get past him, either. “No…”
“Oh, I think you have a new title, sire…”
“Merlin, if you ever call me that I will have you thrown in the dungeons for a week.”
“Of course, my prattish Prince,” Merlin laughed.
“Merlin…” Arthur tried glaring his most princely glare but it didn’t seem to have any effect on Merlin, who was still laughing. Arthur grabbed for the wine in a huff, fingers tangling with Merlin’s and causing him to focus on that one part of his body in a split second. Merlin must have felt it, because his laughter ceased and he just stared at Arthur, and then at where Arthur’s fingers met with his on the wine bottle.
“Take it, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was soft, but sure.
He did, drowning anything else he wanted to say by taking a large swig of wine and making a grandiose deal out of swallowing. When he looked back over at his manservant, he decided he needed yet another swig before giving-up the wine again.
Merlin was just staring at him.
Their fingers fumbled together again as Merlin took back the wine bottle without ceasing his study of Arthur. He refused to be the first to break, but Merlin’s staring was definitely making him nervous. He knew he wasn’t supposed to care what someone like Merlin, a servant, thought of him. He had always been taught that servants were expendable and yet here he sat next to the same man he’d risked his life for after only knowing him a few months. He should have known, then. He should have sacked his ridiculous manservant and found someone less… less like someone Arthur could love.
Damn.
He broke the look, then, hoping Merlin couldn’t see the look of shock he couldn’t quite keep off his face.
“I win.” Merlin tried to be light, but the heavy mood that surrounded them squashed any hope of levity.
Arthur wasn’t in the mood to admit to Merlin how true that statement actually was. It was no secret how many ladies of the court and visiting daughters of nobles had tried to win the heart and hand of Camelot’s young prince. Before, Arthur had simply been un-interested in settling down with anyone. The endless parade of suitors that started several years ago amused him. Now, the thought found him un-settled more than not. He didn’t want some pre-arranged marriage for the sake of land or alliance. The idea of finding someone he could love freely among the typical choices, however, seemed like a child’s dream. It didn’t help, of course, that he really wasn’t even looking, anymore. Not since blue eyes and wild, flailing limbs invaded his space. Not since a rather bold new arrival in Camelot challenged him on the street.
“Yes, you did.” Merlin looked at him like he wasn’t expecting the admission. “Long ago, Merlin. I told you I could take you down with one blow and you told me you could do it with less.”
Merlin dropped his gaze - clearly his time in Arthur’s service had at least taught him something. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time Arthur wanted servitude. “You were right. It just took me awhile to see it.”
Merlin looked up at him in genuine confusion and Arthur had enough. “Don’t tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about because I bloody well know you do.” Anger helped, he reasoned. Gave him the energy to say the things he could never say, otherwise. “You know you’re a terrible servant, Merlin, and yet I never really sack you. Ever. I could - a million times over. My father, the King, would be overjoyed if I suddenly decided you weren’t worth the trouble, anymore. Sure, you’re loyal and you keep me out of trouble most times but you’re also insolent, insubordinate and entirely too mouthy.” Arthur had abandoned his seat next to Merlin and was in full pacing, rant-mode now. Staying next to Merlin’s heat and having to stare at those blue orbs would be the death of him at this point. “Have you ever really asked yourself ‘why’? Why does Arthur keep me around? Why hasn’t he actually sacked me?”
“Of course.”
It was quiet but confident, and so unlike what he’d been expecting it got Arthur’s attention.
“I ask myself why I care so much. I often have to ask myself why I willingly do things that will land me in the stocks, again, when I clearly shouldn’t even have this job.” His grin is small, but it’s there. “I ask myself how I can see a great future king in such a royal prat.” Merlin stills for second, gathering courage, perhaps, Arthur thinks. “But then I look at you, Arthur. I see you standing in front of my mum in Ealdor, helping my village to fend-off bandits when it’s not even in your own kingdom. I see you get frustrated because you realize people treat you differently as the prince. I see your amusement, often at my expense granted, when you pull pranks or do any number of things that show me the real Arthur.” Merlin stills, the slight amount of self-preservation he possesses kicking-in. Arthur can tell he’s waiting for his reaction.
“If I wasn’t the Prince. It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?”
Merlin doesn’t say anything, just looks at him. It’s raw and open and Arthur finds the courage to look him in the eyes. Both of them look away - the intensity is too much. “That’s why I came out here. I didn’t want to be ‘Prince Arthur’ for just awhile. But I am, aren’t I. Always.”
“Not with me. Sure, I treat you the way I should, mostly,” Merlin hastily adds at the incredulous look Arthur shoots him “but not when we’re just by ourselves. Not now.”
“Hence you are clearly the worst manservant, ever.” Arthur drones, but there is no heat in it.
“And yet I am still your manservant, to the confusion of Gaius, your father and frankly half the castle.”
Arthur sits back down next to Merlin, still avoiding looking at him. “I can’t let you go.”
Merlin smiles fully, ducking his head and almost laughing to himself. “Figured that out, already.”
“Idiot.”
“Prat.”
They sit in silence for a moment, each wrestling with their own truths. Arthur is grateful when Merlin is the first to break. “Does any of that matter, Arthur? When we’re alone, just the two of us, we can just be. Here, now. This is us.”
Arthur looks over at him, disbelieving. “Of course it matters, Merlin! Everything matters! Everything I say, everything I do - it all matters.”
“Who does it matter to?” Merlin’s voice was soft, gentle and Arthur found a tiny bit of the tension un-winding. “Who is here, Arthur, for it to matter?”
Arthur studied the leaves on the ground, his boots, Merlin’s - anything to avoid looking him in the eye for fear he’d fall apart. “It matters to me,” Arthur nearly whispered. “It matters to you.”
“Then why not,” Merlin whispered, leaning closer on the log, his lips ghosting the shell of Arthur’s ear, close enough to touch, “if it only matters to us?”
Arthur had no response to that. Realistically he knew there would be others involved at some point. He was the Crown Prince and he would never be able to escape certain obligations no matter how much he might wish it. Merlin - Merlin was impatient and pushy and guileless and …kissing him. While he was going over strategy and making plans in his mind, Merlin did what he always did. He just acted on what he felt.
That wouldn’t hold up in his Father’s court, but Arthur had heard Merlin tell him enough times that he would be a great king. Arthur longed for the day when he could stand-up for what he felt and believed in. When the pressure on his own mouth faded, he chased Merlin’s retreating lips, kissing him back with all the reckless abandon he could muster. It was strange still, but as Merlin’s lips parted for him and he tasted the warmth of his mouth and ran his tongue along Merlin’s eliciting a groan - it no longer mattered. He’d seen magical beasts, been put under spells and dealt with the eccentricities of his manservant every day.
Compared to that, loving him would be easy.