The Moment of Truth
Title: The Moment of Truth
Parings: Merlin/Will and Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There's real love, fake love, and that in between. Merlin is caught up in the "love" of two men.
Notes: Set during and after the episode of the same name (the title is lazy but it's 4am and eight hours after the episode ended so leave me be xD Plus it kinda fits) made up of scenes we didn't see, and some tweaking and changing of ones we did. Also, full of angst. Also non-beta'd casue my beta went to bed beofre it was done and I really wnated to put it up so apologies for any glitches.
Author comment: I've never written for this fandom before but it rekindled my ficking ability after a VERY long time and I have like four on the go but still, apologies if it's crap ^^
Feeback: Oh please, it does make me so very very happy!
“You abandoned me.”
“I’m here now!”
“Because you followed him here like an obedient dog.”
“That’s not true Will!”
“Yes, it is.” Merlin’s eyes strained in the dark towards his friend. Well, friend was a strong word just now. Will was so furious, and Merlin didn’t know why. He’d been sad to see his friend go, but Merlin was just as sad to be the one going. He hadn’t abandoned Will, he thought furiously. He’d had to leave, and he thought Will had understood that. If his own mother could understand why couldn’t he? He stood up from the low wall he’d been sat on beside Will and went to leave; he couldn’t manage this at the moment, with the impending battle weighing like a stone on his mind.
“Wait, Merlin.” He couldn’t see Will but he could hear the apology in his voice, a little cracked and quiet even in the silent night. He turned but didn’t go back to Will; Merlin might be an idiot but somehow inside himself he knew what this was about, it was about a mistake made years ago and he knew he would never be going back to Will.
“You just... came back here with him and it makes me furious.” Merlin put a finger and thumb to his temples and sighed. Will was making him remember and he didn’t want to. That normal hunting day, the dappled brown ground with dead leaves below and dying ones above, the sunlight patching through them into their bright young eyes, laughter echoing and dying...
The best friends walked quietly through the forest together, ears pricked. They both stopped as one as something rustled. Will raised the village’s single crossbow, body tense. Merlin was a terrible shot so he was just there to cease Will’s boredom and to collect his kills. But then the rustle grew louder and they realised this was no rabbit. A shudder of fear ran through Merlin as a wolf emerged from the greenery. They must have strayed too far from the village in their excitement...
It growled, the snarled. Oh God, it was advancing. Will’s hands shook around the barrel of the bow and Merlin could see it in the corner of his eye. “Shoot it. Will. Shoot it!” He hissed. But as he turned his head for a moment to look at him, Will’s eyes were wide with terror.
“Will!” The wolf growled louder with Merlin’s voice, and Will’s whole body was faltering now. Merlin was going to have to act himself. The wolf grew nearer, and the preparation to spring was obvious in its every muscle. Resigned, Merlin began to murmur words that had never been taught him, eyes fixed on the wolf. He couldn’t look away so he couldn’t see his friend react. He just muttered faster and louder and suddenly his eyes flashed golden. The ground before the wolf rose and an explosion of the dry leaves swirled around it with a bang. It whimpered and took flight, becoming nothing more than disturbed ground and a distant sound of moved foliage.
“You...” Will’ voice broke it. “You’re a sorcerer.” It wasn’t a question and Merlin fell with a crackling flump to the floor. He began to bother one of his thumb nails in his teeth, not speaking for some moments.
“So?” It was an unfeeling sound that came from him and he felt vulnerable when Will didn’t sit, instead stood over him, looking conflicted.
“I knew there had to be something... you put a spell on me!” His voice rose to accusatory and Merlin looked up at him for the first time, stunned.
“No I didn’t!” How could Will be so judgemental? How could he jump straight to the assumption that his friend, his friend since birth, was evil just because he had been born with magic in his mind and enchantment on his tongue?
“You must have! Why would you want me to feel like this? What are you trying to do?!” Will was becoming hysterical, arms akimbo. Merlin was lost, and he searched Will’s face for some clue, but found only fear and revulsion. It tore at his heart to see it and looked back down, his eye level being Will’s kneecaps. Eventually he stood up, trying to look reassuring but probably failing.
“Feel like what? Are you sick?” It was all he could think of; Will thought he had put a curse on him. Because he was a sorcerer and sorcerers did evil things like that, without exception apparently.
“Don’t play stupid Merlin, why would you make me fall in love with you?!” There was a silence thick with bile and forbidden scents for a long time after that. Merlin’s first sluggish thought was a stupid one; his mother had warned him that fifteen year olds didn’t know what love felt like. She’d told him this when she sat him down and had a very awkward and well-meant discussion with him when the stains on his bedding became too frequent to longer ignore.
“I.... I didn’t.” It seemed the obvious response. Will didn’t seem to like it, because he hit Merlin across the cheek with a half-balled fist. Merlin was knocked onto his backside in the dirt, stunned. Now Will was shouting, no one to hear him but the stunned boy on the ground and the squirrels that pattered up and down the great oaks around them.
“You did, you must have!” Will’s face was going flame red and flecks of spit hit Merlin’s brown shirt. “You’re lying this must be why! This is the only way out tell me it was you!” He threw himself on Merlin, haphazardly trying to hit and kick him but Merlin managed to grab out for his arms and hands and hold him from him. Once he had a firm grip and Will could no longer hide his desolate and furious face behind the fight, he stopped. They were laying in the dirt side by side, arms locked.
Will seemed ready to cry. Merlin couldn’t bear to see his friend so wretched, no matter how strange this was. His mother had installed in him a great lack of judgement against anyone; how else could he put up with the ways of Arthur and his sometimes fascist father as well as he did? Will suddenly pushed his forehead against their tangled hands. Merlin, very uncertainly, stroked the side of his forefinger against it. They lay like this for a minute or two, barely breathing let alone moving or speaking.
Will kissed him. Quite unobtrusively, more curious then anything else it seemed. And Merlin didn’t push him off. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the heart to stop him; Merlin could be very stubborn at times, if he didn’t want it then Will would know. Now their hands were just twined between their bodies as they kissed, ignoring the leaves and dirt on their clothes and in their hair...
“We’re not boys anymore, Will. We can say what we really mean.” Merlin’s voice lost all the childishness that it always held at least a vestige of and that was when Will knew he was gone. The boy he’d fought in the dirt of their, now only his, home with was gone. He got up and went into his house.
“He’s not just angry about my being a nobleman is he?” Arthur asked suddenly. Merlin had thought he was asleep, because he could feel the soft steady breath of sleep blowing gently into his hair.
“I don’t know. He really does hate them.” He replied sleepily, half into Arthur’s chest. They had waited until they were beyond certain that Gwen, Morgana and his mother were sleeping before Merlin wriggled round so he no longer had Arthur’s not particularly pleasant feet in his face and was instead in his arms. Like normal. Only Gaius would ever notice and so far Gaius had chosen not to comment.
“Hm. Are you sure?” Yet another lie to Arthur. Yet another lie to his lover. It made him sick to the stomach.
“... I’m not sure. I think he...” Merlin felt Arthur look down at him because his chin became further pressed to the top of Merlin’s head. He turned a bit and leant his chin on linked fingers on Arthur’s chest, looking back. “Well, I know. But it doesn’t matter. He’s my friend.” Arthur looked unconvinced and ran a hand slowly through Merlin’s hair, stroking it.
“Fair enough.” And Arthur tugged the blanket up to Merlin’s shoulders, who slipped back down to the floor to curl himself into Arthur’s side.
“You’re not going to stick your foot in my face to make me tell you the truth again?” Merlin smirked into Arthur’s side. It was funny; he now never stopped to think how they got from trying to mace each other’s faces off to this. It hadn’t been difficult, oddly. There were lots of feasts and celebrations at Camelot and that meant a lot of mead and Arthur’s stance on mead seemed to be ‘waste not want not’. So that sped things along rather well. A few drunken moments, followed in the morning by having to dress Arthur. A few shared smirks. It had taken very little really.
It was funny, he thought his mother could sense it. They way she talked about them, the way she looked at him. He hoped she couldn’t see it, he didn’t even want his own mother to know. This was the one secret in the horrible web he liked having.
Arthur snorted and cuffed Merlin’s head before kissing the top of it. “Only if you ask me nicely.” Merlin wrinkled his nose.
“No thank you sire.” They both started laughing and had to put their fists in their mouths to stop the noise, since the sleeping women were only a curtain away.
Merlin was fighting to hold in the tears. Will was dying. Dying from saving the life of the man who had stolen Merlin from him. His best friend of all his life, his friend no matter what, was slowly being drained of life in front of his eyes and he could do nothing. He couldn’t save him; if he pulled out the arrow he’d be dead in an instant as it ripped out of his chest, and he could do nothing with magic while the arrow was there. The pain was horrific on every line of the young face and Merlin felt less like a man and more like a boy then he had since going to Camelot.
And he took the blame. Years ago Merlin had saved Will only for it to bring bitterness and anger, and now Will was giving his last breath as a defence for Merlin. And his laughter, his sardonic, death-maddened laughter sounded so sick. He had momentary fury at Arthur’s sharp tone but, surprisingly, it took only a single look from Merlin for Arthur to back down and repent.
“Do what you can for him....” There was so much more in those words then the rest of the room would ever know. Merlin tried to tell Arthur something, anything, in that second across the table before he left the room. He didn’t even know what; why should he feel guilty being here alone with Wi- then he realised. He was going to have to lie. He was going to deny everything that Arthur meant to him, to make the dying boy happy.
“M-Merlin...” He could hardly bear it. He wiped his eyes, full of dust from the fight and the beginnings of tears. He leant low, close to Will, who was twitching with pain, his words broken. “I always kn- knew... before I found out what you could do. I knew; there was a magic about you.” Merlin didn’t want to hear these words; so much sweeter to the ear then anything Arthur ever said to him yet at this moment he’d rather have had Arthur bellowing orders in his face then this. The guilt was like being plunged upside down into cold water. Suddenly Will was smiling, before Merlin even began to consider a reply.
“Was right about him. Told you he was going to get me killed.” Merlin couldn’t smile; his face was just not working that way just then.
“You’re not going to die.” It was pathetic. They both knew it to be a lie. He wanted to hold onto Will, hold onto him as he used to do in the dark all those years ago, but moving him at all would only bring more pain for him. He put his hand above Will’s head, stroking the hair and lowered his face closer.
Will struggled for words again. “You’re a great man, Merlin. A great man. And one day, you’re going to be a servant to a great King. Now you can still make that happen.” And Merlin knew the most valiant and noble person he had ever met, knights and royalty and magical beings included, was dying in front of his eyes. He knew he couldn’t be lain out on this table to breath his last and say something like that. He’d be cursing Arthur’s name and very existence if he was in Will’s shoes. Will wasn’t even going to make him lie.
“Thanks to you.” He tried to sound as comforting and grateful as possible; he wanted Will to know this was not in vain, if Merlin’s happiness meant so much to him. “Thanks to you he’s still here.”
“If you weren’t a sorcerer and hadn’t chased the wolf away none of us would be, not even your Prince.” The way he said that, your Prince, with affection and an almost jovial tone made Merlin want to cry even more badly. He couldn’t speak, his throat blocked by a lump that made him want to vomit. “This place’s been boring without you. It was good to see you again.” Neither wanted to say what they really meant. But Merlin’s magic seemed awoken by his impending grief and he was getting tendrils of something that wasn’t quite there, but it was blocked by Will’s voice.
“Yeah you too.” It was all he could manage from his tight throat, and he sniffed. They had one last time together and they’d fought. About Arthur. Yes Will held no grudges and the respect that bloomed in Merlin only redoubled the almost-tears.
It was worth it, dying. Worth it to see you again. That’s all I wanted really.
And it was gone. The words broke Merlin and it seemed Will could hear them too, as if he’d really thought them. His face crumpled like a child’s and a sob was crushed inside him. The sight caused a pain in Merlin’s heart the like of which he could not explain.
“Merlin... Merlin I’m scared.” Just then he almost ripped the arrow out, almost let his magic spill over on a tidal-wave of regret to do what it could for the dying boy. But magic only did so much; it could not.... could not mend a broken heart. The words, thought unwittingly, clenched Merlin.
Will writhed with pain now and Merlin felt tears escape as he tried to reassure him on brittle, broken phrases that meant nothing. He moved nearer, a hand on Will’s chest, the reluctance to hold him faltering a little. It didn’t seem Will could be in anymore pain.
“Merlin...” Suppressed sobs of pain perforated the words that were almost not there. “Merlin... I...” And he was gone. Merlin could take no more of this and buried his face in Will’s chest to cry. He felt a soft, gloved hand on his shoulder and jumped, face tearstained. Arthur was stood there, looking at him with an expression Merlin had never seen him wear before. He wrapped Merlin up in his arms and let him cry until he was almost passed out from it.
Epilogue
He hadn’t spoken to Arthur since the funeral, three days ago. He assumed it was grief and left him to it. But he spoke to other people. Gwen was a comfort, holding his hands and not saying anything. But he wanted Arthur. He wanted him to be the way he had been the moment Will died. But that was not Arthur under normal circumstances. He wanted Arthur to apologise for being so harsh at the funeral, but that would never happen. He wanted him to stop pretending. A cold wind whipped across the rooves of the castle and Merlin felt it acutely from his seat in his window. So cold...
I’m sorry. I know he was a close friend. You knew he was a sorcerer didn’t you? That’s what you were going to tell me. You know how dangerous magic is. You shouldn’t have kept this from me Merlin.
This vile, cold pretence. He’d needed him, as he stared into the fire and watched his friend burn. He’d needed Arthur to stand there and just be beside him, not chiding him about something so desperately unimportant. The wind was even cooler as the memory made his cheeks red with anger yet again.
“Merlin.” It was supposed to be Merlin who came when needed. Not the other way around. He hadn’t even heard him open the door. He still wasn’t going to apologise but he was here, that was enough for him. Arms came around his shoulders, holding onto him. He leant back into the strong body and let out a gusty sigh of relief. He just wanted to forget now. He’d spent two days forgetting that this was the way Arthur was an he’d known that from the start. He’d never have loved Will; just because he was valiant and dead it doesn’t mean Merlin would have seen something new in him to smile about every day of his life. That only happened with one person.
He wanted to forget. He turned his head, offering his mouth like he’d done so many times before. With a brief glance out the window, Arthur claimed it, moving his arms to around Merlin’s waist and pulling him back off the sill and onto his feet. Merlin turned and melted back into the kiss. Every time he lost faith in Arthur this happened and the cycle began again. He couldn’t help it. Arthur wasn’t good to him, he knew that. But somehow he also had the best of Arthur, on the rare occasion he even had a good side.
Arthur pulled Merlin’s shirt off and ran his hands down his shoulders and torso until they came to his hips. Holding them, he pushed Merlin backwards to his low bed, never breaking the kiss and nipping lightly at his lips, turning them red and tender.
Merlin let himself fall backwards onto the bed, catching himself on his hands. Arthur fell after him rather more gracefully, landing on his knees between Merlin’s legs and recapturing his mouth, cupping his face. Arthur was only ever this good to hi when they were like this. When Merlin was... giving him something. Merlin chided himself for thinking like that; reminding himself it was the rest of the time that was full of fakery.
Arthur undid Merlin breeches, always in control, and knelt back to pull them from his legs. He always made Merlin naked before taking off any of his own clothes, he got used to it quickly. He lay back, arms lain on the pillow above his head. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t picked up on what Arthur did or didn’t like, and what drove him to distraction. ‘Submissive’ put a suitable header on the list.
Arthur pushed Merlin’s bare legs up and pressed his hips, still smothered in thin breeches that strained at the front, against his arse. He rocked against Merlin, lips on his chest, exploring well-known territory. Merlin moaned quietly in anticipation, hands around Arthur’s strong battle scarred biceps.
When the hot mouth reached the sensitive skin of his neck and under his jaw, he moaned a little louder and Arthur had to put a hand over his mouth with a little grin that Merlin could feel against his skin.
Arthur sat up and, making a bit more of a show of it them was really necessary, took his own jacket and shirt off, and stood to undo his breeches. All this annoyingly slowly, bright eyes fixed on Merlin’s or roaming up and down his naked body. It made Merlin shiver, that stare. There was a beautiful familiarity about this that chased all of Merlin’s ghosts clean away. He was sure of himself; sure of what to do.
Arthur’s dense, taught body come down on him and as their hips met, all cotton barriers gone, and he had to press a joking hand over Merlin’s mouth again. He retaliated by playfully nibbled Arthur’s fingers, widening the Prince’s lascivious grin.
Merlin rocked himself against Arthur’s solid hips of his own accord now, the skin-on-skin maddening and wonderful at the same time. Arthur took Merlin’s hands in just one of his own and held them against the thin pillow, taking his control to maximum. He parted Merlin’s legs wider by pushing between his thighs, and took hold of his erection, teasing Merlin’s entrance with it. It elicited the same response as always; the writhe, the moan that he could not keep down despite his pride arguing. He hooked his legs over Arthur’s hips, pressing against the taunting touches against the hypersensitive flesh.
Arthur breached him and Merlin had to bite down on his own knuckles to keep his noise down. His breath was hot and edged with broken groans in Merlin’s ear and the sharp pleasure-pain was deepening. He wanted to wrap around Arthur, to hold on, but his hands were still pinned.
Arthur was heavy on him but it didn’t matter as he bent his body to meet the thrusts, both moving for climax quickly. But Merlin’s would not come while his hands were where they were. Arthur seemed to have forgotten, busy searching out the spot inside Merlin that would make him his slave. Merlin barely had time to draw breath before Arthur found it and he was lost. He was crying out, bucking his hips, desperate for more, more, more.
Arthur gave him what he wanted, shifting for a better angle and thrusting his length back inside Merlin, whose whole body tensed and bent beneath his lover. Arthur went up on his knees and gave it to him with a long, guttural, growling moan, sinking into him, sweat shining on his brow. To Merlin he was so, so beautiful; blonde hair slick across his forehead in little sharp locks, eyes deep and the blue seemed to swirl with lust, muscular chest heaving.
Then he pulled almost out and in again to the hilt and Merlin pulled harder on his held down hands, mewling for release. The delicious slide of Arthur’s entire length into him was too much. The Prince finally let go, burying his face in Merlin’s neck and driving into him then arching his spine and throwing his head back, every inch the golden god. Merlin made full use of his freed hands, taking hold of his cock with one and Arthur’s forearm with the other, pulling him back down to him.
They were bound together, limbs wrapped around limbs around torsos, barely moving as Arthur gunned short thrusts into Merlin and the younger boy knew he wouldn’t last much longer under the sweet torture that was new every time. He came with a strangled cry, seed wetting their stomachs and his hand. Arthur still rode against him as his orgasm subsided and he could only whimper for air as Arthur climaxed and came inside him, filling him with describable heat.
He collapsed onto Merlin, panting. “I...” Arthur’s need for air was interrupting. “Needed... that.” So had Merlin, more than Arthur could imagine. But he wasn’t going to tell him that. Arthur was at his most human after sex and Merlin liked being the one with a shell for once, if only for a few minutes. He stroked Arthur’s slightly slick hair absently, other arm close around his back, tracing scars. He had the high ground, but he wasn’t glibly rejoicing in it the way he usually would. Now was different; Merlin knew this wasn’t love. He’d glimpsed real love. This would never be it..
Parings: Merlin/Will and Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There's real love, fake love, and that in between. Merlin is caught up in the "love" of two men.
Notes: Set during and after the episode of the same name (the title is lazy but it's 4am and eight hours after the episode ended so leave me be xD Plus it kinda fits) made up of scenes we didn't see, and some tweaking and changing of ones we did. Also, full of angst. Also non-beta'd casue my beta went to bed beofre it was done and I really wnated to put it up so apologies for any glitches.
Author comment: I've never written for this fandom before but it rekindled my ficking ability after a VERY long time and I have like four on the go but still, apologies if it's crap ^^
Feeback: Oh please, it does make me so very very happy!
“You abandoned me.”
“I’m here now!”
“Because you followed him here like an obedient dog.”
“That’s not true Will!”
“Yes, it is.” Merlin’s eyes strained in the dark towards his friend. Well, friend was a strong word just now. Will was so furious, and Merlin didn’t know why. He’d been sad to see his friend go, but Merlin was just as sad to be the one going. He hadn’t abandoned Will, he thought furiously. He’d had to leave, and he thought Will had understood that. If his own mother could understand why couldn’t he? He stood up from the low wall he’d been sat on beside Will and went to leave; he couldn’t manage this at the moment, with the impending battle weighing like a stone on his mind.
“Wait, Merlin.” He couldn’t see Will but he could hear the apology in his voice, a little cracked and quiet even in the silent night. He turned but didn’t go back to Will; Merlin might be an idiot but somehow inside himself he knew what this was about, it was about a mistake made years ago and he knew he would never be going back to Will.
“You just... came back here with him and it makes me furious.” Merlin put a finger and thumb to his temples and sighed. Will was making him remember and he didn’t want to. That normal hunting day, the dappled brown ground with dead leaves below and dying ones above, the sunlight patching through them into their bright young eyes, laughter echoing and dying...
The best friends walked quietly through the forest together, ears pricked. They both stopped as one as something rustled. Will raised the village’s single crossbow, body tense. Merlin was a terrible shot so he was just there to cease Will’s boredom and to collect his kills. But then the rustle grew louder and they realised this was no rabbit. A shudder of fear ran through Merlin as a wolf emerged from the greenery. They must have strayed too far from the village in their excitement...
It growled, the snarled. Oh God, it was advancing. Will’s hands shook around the barrel of the bow and Merlin could see it in the corner of his eye. “Shoot it. Will. Shoot it!” He hissed. But as he turned his head for a moment to look at him, Will’s eyes were wide with terror.
“Will!” The wolf growled louder with Merlin’s voice, and Will’s whole body was faltering now. Merlin was going to have to act himself. The wolf grew nearer, and the preparation to spring was obvious in its every muscle. Resigned, Merlin began to murmur words that had never been taught him, eyes fixed on the wolf. He couldn’t look away so he couldn’t see his friend react. He just muttered faster and louder and suddenly his eyes flashed golden. The ground before the wolf rose and an explosion of the dry leaves swirled around it with a bang. It whimpered and took flight, becoming nothing more than disturbed ground and a distant sound of moved foliage.
“You...” Will’ voice broke it. “You’re a sorcerer.” It wasn’t a question and Merlin fell with a crackling flump to the floor. He began to bother one of his thumb nails in his teeth, not speaking for some moments.
“So?” It was an unfeeling sound that came from him and he felt vulnerable when Will didn’t sit, instead stood over him, looking conflicted.
“I knew there had to be something... you put a spell on me!” His voice rose to accusatory and Merlin looked up at him for the first time, stunned.
“No I didn’t!” How could Will be so judgemental? How could he jump straight to the assumption that his friend, his friend since birth, was evil just because he had been born with magic in his mind and enchantment on his tongue?
“You must have! Why would you want me to feel like this? What are you trying to do?!” Will was becoming hysterical, arms akimbo. Merlin was lost, and he searched Will’s face for some clue, but found only fear and revulsion. It tore at his heart to see it and looked back down, his eye level being Will’s kneecaps. Eventually he stood up, trying to look reassuring but probably failing.
“Feel like what? Are you sick?” It was all he could think of; Will thought he had put a curse on him. Because he was a sorcerer and sorcerers did evil things like that, without exception apparently.
“Don’t play stupid Merlin, why would you make me fall in love with you?!” There was a silence thick with bile and forbidden scents for a long time after that. Merlin’s first sluggish thought was a stupid one; his mother had warned him that fifteen year olds didn’t know what love felt like. She’d told him this when she sat him down and had a very awkward and well-meant discussion with him when the stains on his bedding became too frequent to longer ignore.
“I.... I didn’t.” It seemed the obvious response. Will didn’t seem to like it, because he hit Merlin across the cheek with a half-balled fist. Merlin was knocked onto his backside in the dirt, stunned. Now Will was shouting, no one to hear him but the stunned boy on the ground and the squirrels that pattered up and down the great oaks around them.
“You did, you must have!” Will’s face was going flame red and flecks of spit hit Merlin’s brown shirt. “You’re lying this must be why! This is the only way out tell me it was you!” He threw himself on Merlin, haphazardly trying to hit and kick him but Merlin managed to grab out for his arms and hands and hold him from him. Once he had a firm grip and Will could no longer hide his desolate and furious face behind the fight, he stopped. They were laying in the dirt side by side, arms locked.
Will seemed ready to cry. Merlin couldn’t bear to see his friend so wretched, no matter how strange this was. His mother had installed in him a great lack of judgement against anyone; how else could he put up with the ways of Arthur and his sometimes fascist father as well as he did? Will suddenly pushed his forehead against their tangled hands. Merlin, very uncertainly, stroked the side of his forefinger against it. They lay like this for a minute or two, barely breathing let alone moving or speaking.
Will kissed him. Quite unobtrusively, more curious then anything else it seemed. And Merlin didn’t push him off. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the heart to stop him; Merlin could be very stubborn at times, if he didn’t want it then Will would know. Now their hands were just twined between their bodies as they kissed, ignoring the leaves and dirt on their clothes and in their hair...
“We’re not boys anymore, Will. We can say what we really mean.” Merlin’s voice lost all the childishness that it always held at least a vestige of and that was when Will knew he was gone. The boy he’d fought in the dirt of their, now only his, home with was gone. He got up and went into his house.
“He’s not just angry about my being a nobleman is he?” Arthur asked suddenly. Merlin had thought he was asleep, because he could feel the soft steady breath of sleep blowing gently into his hair.
“I don’t know. He really does hate them.” He replied sleepily, half into Arthur’s chest. They had waited until they were beyond certain that Gwen, Morgana and his mother were sleeping before Merlin wriggled round so he no longer had Arthur’s not particularly pleasant feet in his face and was instead in his arms. Like normal. Only Gaius would ever notice and so far Gaius had chosen not to comment.
“Hm. Are you sure?” Yet another lie to Arthur. Yet another lie to his lover. It made him sick to the stomach.
“... I’m not sure. I think he...” Merlin felt Arthur look down at him because his chin became further pressed to the top of Merlin’s head. He turned a bit and leant his chin on linked fingers on Arthur’s chest, looking back. “Well, I know. But it doesn’t matter. He’s my friend.” Arthur looked unconvinced and ran a hand slowly through Merlin’s hair, stroking it.
“Fair enough.” And Arthur tugged the blanket up to Merlin’s shoulders, who slipped back down to the floor to curl himself into Arthur’s side.
“You’re not going to stick your foot in my face to make me tell you the truth again?” Merlin smirked into Arthur’s side. It was funny; he now never stopped to think how they got from trying to mace each other’s faces off to this. It hadn’t been difficult, oddly. There were lots of feasts and celebrations at Camelot and that meant a lot of mead and Arthur’s stance on mead seemed to be ‘waste not want not’. So that sped things along rather well. A few drunken moments, followed in the morning by having to dress Arthur. A few shared smirks. It had taken very little really.
It was funny, he thought his mother could sense it. They way she talked about them, the way she looked at him. He hoped she couldn’t see it, he didn’t even want his own mother to know. This was the one secret in the horrible web he liked having.
Arthur snorted and cuffed Merlin’s head before kissing the top of it. “Only if you ask me nicely.” Merlin wrinkled his nose.
“No thank you sire.” They both started laughing and had to put their fists in their mouths to stop the noise, since the sleeping women were only a curtain away.
Merlin was fighting to hold in the tears. Will was dying. Dying from saving the life of the man who had stolen Merlin from him. His best friend of all his life, his friend no matter what, was slowly being drained of life in front of his eyes and he could do nothing. He couldn’t save him; if he pulled out the arrow he’d be dead in an instant as it ripped out of his chest, and he could do nothing with magic while the arrow was there. The pain was horrific on every line of the young face and Merlin felt less like a man and more like a boy then he had since going to Camelot.
And he took the blame. Years ago Merlin had saved Will only for it to bring bitterness and anger, and now Will was giving his last breath as a defence for Merlin. And his laughter, his sardonic, death-maddened laughter sounded so sick. He had momentary fury at Arthur’s sharp tone but, surprisingly, it took only a single look from Merlin for Arthur to back down and repent.
“Do what you can for him....” There was so much more in those words then the rest of the room would ever know. Merlin tried to tell Arthur something, anything, in that second across the table before he left the room. He didn’t even know what; why should he feel guilty being here alone with Wi- then he realised. He was going to have to lie. He was going to deny everything that Arthur meant to him, to make the dying boy happy.
“M-Merlin...” He could hardly bear it. He wiped his eyes, full of dust from the fight and the beginnings of tears. He leant low, close to Will, who was twitching with pain, his words broken. “I always kn- knew... before I found out what you could do. I knew; there was a magic about you.” Merlin didn’t want to hear these words; so much sweeter to the ear then anything Arthur ever said to him yet at this moment he’d rather have had Arthur bellowing orders in his face then this. The guilt was like being plunged upside down into cold water. Suddenly Will was smiling, before Merlin even began to consider a reply.
“Was right about him. Told you he was going to get me killed.” Merlin couldn’t smile; his face was just not working that way just then.
“You’re not going to die.” It was pathetic. They both knew it to be a lie. He wanted to hold onto Will, hold onto him as he used to do in the dark all those years ago, but moving him at all would only bring more pain for him. He put his hand above Will’s head, stroking the hair and lowered his face closer.
Will struggled for words again. “You’re a great man, Merlin. A great man. And one day, you’re going to be a servant to a great King. Now you can still make that happen.” And Merlin knew the most valiant and noble person he had ever met, knights and royalty and magical beings included, was dying in front of his eyes. He knew he couldn’t be lain out on this table to breath his last and say something like that. He’d be cursing Arthur’s name and very existence if he was in Will’s shoes. Will wasn’t even going to make him lie.
“Thanks to you.” He tried to sound as comforting and grateful as possible; he wanted Will to know this was not in vain, if Merlin’s happiness meant so much to him. “Thanks to you he’s still here.”
“If you weren’t a sorcerer and hadn’t chased the wolf away none of us would be, not even your Prince.” The way he said that, your Prince, with affection and an almost jovial tone made Merlin want to cry even more badly. He couldn’t speak, his throat blocked by a lump that made him want to vomit. “This place’s been boring without you. It was good to see you again.” Neither wanted to say what they really meant. But Merlin’s magic seemed awoken by his impending grief and he was getting tendrils of something that wasn’t quite there, but it was blocked by Will’s voice.
“Yeah you too.” It was all he could manage from his tight throat, and he sniffed. They had one last time together and they’d fought. About Arthur. Yes Will held no grudges and the respect that bloomed in Merlin only redoubled the almost-tears.
It was worth it, dying. Worth it to see you again. That’s all I wanted really.
And it was gone. The words broke Merlin and it seemed Will could hear them too, as if he’d really thought them. His face crumpled like a child’s and a sob was crushed inside him. The sight caused a pain in Merlin’s heart the like of which he could not explain.
“Merlin... Merlin I’m scared.” Just then he almost ripped the arrow out, almost let his magic spill over on a tidal-wave of regret to do what it could for the dying boy. But magic only did so much; it could not.... could not mend a broken heart. The words, thought unwittingly, clenched Merlin.
Will writhed with pain now and Merlin felt tears escape as he tried to reassure him on brittle, broken phrases that meant nothing. He moved nearer, a hand on Will’s chest, the reluctance to hold him faltering a little. It didn’t seem Will could be in anymore pain.
“Merlin...” Suppressed sobs of pain perforated the words that were almost not there. “Merlin... I...” And he was gone. Merlin could take no more of this and buried his face in Will’s chest to cry. He felt a soft, gloved hand on his shoulder and jumped, face tearstained. Arthur was stood there, looking at him with an expression Merlin had never seen him wear before. He wrapped Merlin up in his arms and let him cry until he was almost passed out from it.
Epilogue
He hadn’t spoken to Arthur since the funeral, three days ago. He assumed it was grief and left him to it. But he spoke to other people. Gwen was a comfort, holding his hands and not saying anything. But he wanted Arthur. He wanted him to be the way he had been the moment Will died. But that was not Arthur under normal circumstances. He wanted Arthur to apologise for being so harsh at the funeral, but that would never happen. He wanted him to stop pretending. A cold wind whipped across the rooves of the castle and Merlin felt it acutely from his seat in his window. So cold...
I’m sorry. I know he was a close friend. You knew he was a sorcerer didn’t you? That’s what you were going to tell me. You know how dangerous magic is. You shouldn’t have kept this from me Merlin.
This vile, cold pretence. He’d needed him, as he stared into the fire and watched his friend burn. He’d needed Arthur to stand there and just be beside him, not chiding him about something so desperately unimportant. The wind was even cooler as the memory made his cheeks red with anger yet again.
“Merlin.” It was supposed to be Merlin who came when needed. Not the other way around. He hadn’t even heard him open the door. He still wasn’t going to apologise but he was here, that was enough for him. Arms came around his shoulders, holding onto him. He leant back into the strong body and let out a gusty sigh of relief. He just wanted to forget now. He’d spent two days forgetting that this was the way Arthur was an he’d known that from the start. He’d never have loved Will; just because he was valiant and dead it doesn’t mean Merlin would have seen something new in him to smile about every day of his life. That only happened with one person.
He wanted to forget. He turned his head, offering his mouth like he’d done so many times before. With a brief glance out the window, Arthur claimed it, moving his arms to around Merlin’s waist and pulling him back off the sill and onto his feet. Merlin turned and melted back into the kiss. Every time he lost faith in Arthur this happened and the cycle began again. He couldn’t help it. Arthur wasn’t good to him, he knew that. But somehow he also had the best of Arthur, on the rare occasion he even had a good side.
Arthur pulled Merlin’s shirt off and ran his hands down his shoulders and torso until they came to his hips. Holding them, he pushed Merlin backwards to his low bed, never breaking the kiss and nipping lightly at his lips, turning them red and tender.
Merlin let himself fall backwards onto the bed, catching himself on his hands. Arthur fell after him rather more gracefully, landing on his knees between Merlin’s legs and recapturing his mouth, cupping his face. Arthur was only ever this good to hi when they were like this. When Merlin was... giving him something. Merlin chided himself for thinking like that; reminding himself it was the rest of the time that was full of fakery.
Arthur undid Merlin breeches, always in control, and knelt back to pull them from his legs. He always made Merlin naked before taking off any of his own clothes, he got used to it quickly. He lay back, arms lain on the pillow above his head. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t picked up on what Arthur did or didn’t like, and what drove him to distraction. ‘Submissive’ put a suitable header on the list.
Arthur pushed Merlin’s bare legs up and pressed his hips, still smothered in thin breeches that strained at the front, against his arse. He rocked against Merlin, lips on his chest, exploring well-known territory. Merlin moaned quietly in anticipation, hands around Arthur’s strong battle scarred biceps.
When the hot mouth reached the sensitive skin of his neck and under his jaw, he moaned a little louder and Arthur had to put a hand over his mouth with a little grin that Merlin could feel against his skin.
Arthur sat up and, making a bit more of a show of it them was really necessary, took his own jacket and shirt off, and stood to undo his breeches. All this annoyingly slowly, bright eyes fixed on Merlin’s or roaming up and down his naked body. It made Merlin shiver, that stare. There was a beautiful familiarity about this that chased all of Merlin’s ghosts clean away. He was sure of himself; sure of what to do.
Arthur’s dense, taught body come down on him and as their hips met, all cotton barriers gone, and he had to press a joking hand over Merlin’s mouth again. He retaliated by playfully nibbled Arthur’s fingers, widening the Prince’s lascivious grin.
Merlin rocked himself against Arthur’s solid hips of his own accord now, the skin-on-skin maddening and wonderful at the same time. Arthur took Merlin’s hands in just one of his own and held them against the thin pillow, taking his control to maximum. He parted Merlin’s legs wider by pushing between his thighs, and took hold of his erection, teasing Merlin’s entrance with it. It elicited the same response as always; the writhe, the moan that he could not keep down despite his pride arguing. He hooked his legs over Arthur’s hips, pressing against the taunting touches against the hypersensitive flesh.
Arthur breached him and Merlin had to bite down on his own knuckles to keep his noise down. His breath was hot and edged with broken groans in Merlin’s ear and the sharp pleasure-pain was deepening. He wanted to wrap around Arthur, to hold on, but his hands were still pinned.
Arthur was heavy on him but it didn’t matter as he bent his body to meet the thrusts, both moving for climax quickly. But Merlin’s would not come while his hands were where they were. Arthur seemed to have forgotten, busy searching out the spot inside Merlin that would make him his slave. Merlin barely had time to draw breath before Arthur found it and he was lost. He was crying out, bucking his hips, desperate for more, more, more.
Arthur gave him what he wanted, shifting for a better angle and thrusting his length back inside Merlin, whose whole body tensed and bent beneath his lover. Arthur went up on his knees and gave it to him with a long, guttural, growling moan, sinking into him, sweat shining on his brow. To Merlin he was so, so beautiful; blonde hair slick across his forehead in little sharp locks, eyes deep and the blue seemed to swirl with lust, muscular chest heaving.
Then he pulled almost out and in again to the hilt and Merlin pulled harder on his held down hands, mewling for release. The delicious slide of Arthur’s entire length into him was too much. The Prince finally let go, burying his face in Merlin’s neck and driving into him then arching his spine and throwing his head back, every inch the golden god. Merlin made full use of his freed hands, taking hold of his cock with one and Arthur’s forearm with the other, pulling him back down to him.
They were bound together, limbs wrapped around limbs around torsos, barely moving as Arthur gunned short thrusts into Merlin and the younger boy knew he wouldn’t last much longer under the sweet torture that was new every time. He came with a strangled cry, seed wetting their stomachs and his hand. Arthur still rode against him as his orgasm subsided and he could only whimper for air as Arthur climaxed and came inside him, filling him with describable heat.
He collapsed onto Merlin, panting. “I...” Arthur’s need for air was interrupting. “Needed... that.” So had Merlin, more than Arthur could imagine. But he wasn’t going to tell him that. Arthur was at his most human after sex and Merlin liked being the one with a shell for once, if only for a few minutes. He stroked Arthur’s slightly slick hair absently, other arm close around his back, tracing scars. He had the high ground, but he wasn’t glibly rejoicing in it the way he usually would. Now was different; Merlin knew this wasn’t love. He’d glimpsed real love. This would never be it..