Sweet Sundays; Merlin
Title: Sweet Sundays
Author: mydoctortennant
Warnings: Spoilers for up to 2x10
Pairing/s: Arthur/Gwen
Disclaimer: not mine etc etc
Summary: Sometimes there are things that you wish you had said or did for the person you loved.
Notes: This comes to you un-beta'd so if there are spelling mistakes or whatnot they are all my own, and if you want to point things out to me, go ahead XD
My Merlin Prompt Table
They say if it doesn't kill you it'll make you stronger.
Oh, but I can't be without you any longer.
Everytime I let it go, baby it's you.
Nothing compares to you.
Nothing compares to you.
I'm running fast, as fast as I can, to get you back, just to get you back again.
I can not wait, I can not wait, if we can be, we can be us again.
I cry at night, cry at night, I'll cry for all the words, all the words I didn't say.
Sweet Sundays, sweet Sundays.
-- Pixie Lott; Nothing Compares
Sweet Sundays
That look, in that second, that damn near killed him. To see her smile like that at somebody who wasn’t him, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and die. Sleeping it off was about as close as he could get and when he woke up the receiver of the look was gone. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t glad but now he could see her hurting and there was nothing he could do about it.
But he still hurt inside.
He wanted her more than anything, more than anyone. But he couldn’t have her and he knew it. They both knew it. Maybe that was why she was looking at Lancelot in that way. She had decided that she wouldn’t wait for Arthur. She had another man she could turn to, she didn’t need him. But, by God, he didn’t think he could survive another second without her.
He would just have to learn to deal with it. Merlin was wrong, she wouldn’t wait for him. He was a fool to think otherwise. He had to let it go.
He could try and fool himself, move on, but no matter how hard he tried it always came back to her. She who told him he has a good man, to never change. She who had faith in him and the thought of her made him a better man. He wanted to be more like her, and in wanting so acted with such a manner that brought the people to his side. Arthur Pendragon, he was a good man.
He hadn’t let her. Lancelot had.
Merlin had never divulged the information that Lancelot had told him. Not to the true extent. He couldn’t tell Gwen that he left because he could see that Arthur was in love with her. He hadn’t told Arthur that either because, well, he’d been told that if he spoke about it again he’d kill him. And Merlin rather liked being alive.
He couldn’t help but tease his ‘master’ though when it came to Lady Vivian’s visit. He had managed to get Arthur to blush before his threats had started being hurled in Merlin’s direction.
Arthur on the other hand didn’t mind so much that he was blushing. He minded that he was being reminded about something he could have. Never in a million years. Well, not until his father was gone at least, but even then Guinevere would probably be married to some other so-in-so, and he didn’t need reminding of that.
No matter how much he love still stood.
Then he couldn’t really remember. All he knew is that something felt strange. He knew now that he had been ‘in love’ with the Lady Vivian. Merlin had told him, more like laughed at him about it. Arthur would have chased his retreating form and hit him if he hadn’t needed to get elsewhere so quickly.
He ran.
He ran through the corridors of the castle, passing a vase on the way with fresh red roses. Red roses. Morgana had always told him when they were younger that red roses meant love. He knew he was in love with Guinevere. He had to show that to her. He didn’t want her to give up on him, he needed her.
He picked out the nicest rose, with perfect petals and the greenest foliage and he carried on running. He didn’t know that he had delivered the very same flower to ‘his love’ the night before. But he didn’t know what he was doing then, he thought he was in love, but his mind knew what it really wanted again now, and nothing was going to stop him from getting it.
Apart from her.
He had never thought, in all the times the scenario had played out in his mind, that she would turn his words around on him. Even though he had as good as told her ‘I love you’. In his round about way. Merlin would probably have hit him upside the head for his words, but he had told her the truth all the same, he had never loved another, he couldn’t see how he ever would.
Yet she didn’t believe him. She told him that one day he would. One day he would marry a princess, somebody who wasn’t her. For she couldn’t be his Queen. He tried to tell her otherwise. But her words, her actions, they told him that she would not wait for things to change. An that killed him on the inside.
There were so many things that he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to do. He had wanted to kiss her, tell her he would find a way to make it right. When he was king, when he was king he would banish all laws that got in their way.
He wanted to reassure her that he loved her. But short of telling her those words when she had just told him he had to move on didn’t seem right.
Guinevere was more a Queen than any Lady he had ever met. He wanted to tell her that too. Just by telling him that he couldn’t be with her, she proved that she could think logically, and that sort of thinking made a great leader. A great Queen. A great wife.
He laid in his bed, sat p against his pillows staring into space. Something he hadn’t known he had done when pining after Vivian. Something he wouldn’t have known had Merlin not told him so.
“I would start to think this was becoming a habit, sire,” the manservant jested, pouring some water into a goblet for the Prince.
“What are you talking about, Merlin,” Arthur ordered, looking at his servant.
“Only when you were pining after the Lady Vivian, you did exactly the same thing.”
“I am not pining,” he said sternly, looking away from him, concentrating on the spot on the wall again.
“Of course not, Arthur,” he could hear the laughter in Merlin’s voice, a low growl sounded in his throat before he turned to him.
“Get out,” he ordered. Merlin knew not to anger him further and scuttled away. He could do with reading up on some more spells anyway.
Arthur continued to stare at the spot on the wall. All those things he hadn’t said to her. All those things that he could have told her that would have made it all alright. If he couldn’t stand up for himself, what sort of a King would he be? If he couldn’t follow his heart he would just end up like his father, bitter and alone.
It wasn’t until he turned to blow out the candle by his bedside that he realised that tears had been tickling down his cheeks. Another sign of weakness, he scowled himself, wiping furiously at them and blowing out the flame.
There was nothing Arthur could do tonight to make her change her mind. He would simply have to think of another way to convince his queen that that was who she was destined to be.