Title: No Rest for Love
Category: Slash (canon)
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating:T
Summary: based on an Ancient Greek love poem called "No Rest for Love." The translation can be found at poetryintranslation dot com/PITBR/Greek/Greeklines
Arthur asks Merlin to expand on the poetry excuse from 5x03 "Deathsong of Uther Pendragon"
AN: For Vaughntronic, my sweet little snuggle bunny of the chat room and the Heart of Camelot 2014 wishlists
I don't own the poem or Merlin. Reviews and feedback are apreciated! Happy Holidays!
"Poetry? You honestly couldn't come up with anything better than that?"
Merlin rolled his eyes and sighed for the fifth time. He wiped a dirty, calloused hand across his weary face. He was used to long days and saving Arthur, but facing Uther's ghost and almost having his secret revealed had taken its toll. "It wasn't that bad of an excuse. Sir Leon seemed to buy it."
Arthur flung himself backward on his bed and laced his hands under his head. "So, out with it."
"Out with what, Sire?"
"Some of this poetry. Let me hear some of this girlish drabble. Maybe I can use some of it on Guinevere."
It had been no secret to Merlin that the royal couple were having issues with their marriage. More often than not, the queen had been taking to her own chambers when it came time for bed. In the public's eye, everything seemed copesetic, but the lack of an heir had the nobility whispering.
The queen was feeling the strain of her office and her inability to conceive. Although Arthur tried, lately his advances had been rebuffed, and the strain was beginning to show in the king's face.
Merlin watched Arthur stretch out alone in the extravagant bed, covered with silk sheets and a down comforter. He wanted nothing more than to comfort his friend, but he knew it was not his place.
He was not well versed in poetry, but he did enjoy his occasional meanderings into the royal library. Geoffrey would glance at him through hooded eyes, knowing the exact section the servant would scuttle off to, but he never said a thing. Sometimes Merlin would find a new book he knew that the court historian had laid out just for him. Recently, there had been one that had caught his attention so completely he had committed it to memory in one night.
The lyrics were like the spells he studied, as they would flow silently from his lips. Words came almost of their own volition from his mouth.
The time
for the river-watered quinces
in the gardens of the chaste virgins
and
for the blossoms beneath the shady vine shoots
to burst is
Spring
Arthur's eyelids opened half-way and he found himself intrigued by his servant's voice.
Merlin stepped closer to the bed with each syllable, unable to stop himself. He wanted Arthur to not only hear the words, but feel them as he felt them.
But as for
Me,
Eros leaves me no time for resting
Merlin was standing at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked with those of his king. For so long he had wanted Arthur to see him as more. More than just a lackey and a dogsbody; more than just a bumbling idiot.
and,
Arthur propped himself up on his elbows, drawn in by the magnetism the dark-haired man was displaying. He'd never seen his servant so in control, so dark and deep it was almost frightening.
His mind drifted to the events of the previous evening, when he'd sent his father's spirit back into the afterlife.
"Merlin has..." Uther had never gotten the chance to finish that sentence. Even if he had, Arthur doubted he would have believed a word of it. He had seen for himself in that one experience more of the man and less of the father he had loved.
For too long, Arthur had closed his eyes and his ears to the failings of those around him. He wondered now if he had also shut himself off to the best parts of those who were closest to him.
Merlin had always seemed more than what everyone saw...more than what Arthur had ever seen. It was always there. Something intangible and hypnotic that drew him in like a moth to a flame.
Bursting with the fires of lightning
He rushes from Aphrodite's isle
inside northern gales
Leaning over the bed, Merlin knew he was pushing his luck. He'd never been closer to Arthur. Physically, he'd dressed and bathed his king as his position demanded, but there was something more - a closeness and desire he'd hidden away from the world.
His eyes held Arthur's as he pressed in closer, the edges of the bed dipped under the weight of his hands.
Crazed,
He knew it was crazy, but with the queen giving Arthur the cold shoulder Merlin wondered just how far he could go.
Scorching,
His blood pounded in his veins and his hand brushed against the king's leg.
Cavernous and
The lust in his servant's eyes mirrored his own. Arthur could feel his heart racing in his chest. He knew he should look away, instead his leg pressed against Merlin's hand. Desire rose like an untamed beast between them.
Bold
Merlin was feeling bolder than he had ever felt before. His lips were barely a hair's breadth away from Arthur's. Those red, pouting lips trembled. From his peripheral vision he saw the tip of the king's tongue peek out and moisten the chapped skin.
His hand moved up Arthur's calf to the king's knee. He felt the sharp intake of breath and gave the king a coy smile.
Dropping his eyes, he finished the poem in a voice that was so deep and low that Arthur barely heard the words.
and keeps a guard's firm hold of my
heart.
It seemed like hours that they stayed there. Arthur perched on his elbows and Merlin gently stroking his sovereign's leg. It was a spell neither of them wanted to break.