Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (just in case you were confused)
Arthur forced his horse on, faster and faster. He could feel the wind flying past him as he tore through the woods. He could feel Merlin behind him, his arms around his waist clutching on as if his life depended on it. Merlin's presence behind him comforted him, a reminder of where they were going and what they were leaving behind.
Faster and faster, he urged the horse forward, until finally the sound of the knights behind him drifting into nothingness. He began to slow the horse down – not quite to a walk, but enough to let the animal recover from the veracious pace they had been keeping. Noticing the change of speed some of the tension in Merlin's arms loosened, and his head shifted to rest comfortingly on Arthur's shoulder. Neither of the men spoke as they continued on their journey.
And now, the woods open into a green field, and the horse finally slows to a stop. Lazily, Merlin lifts his head, but he keeps his arms tight around Arthur's waist. Arthur moves his hands to cover Merlin's, gently entwining their fingers as he unravels himself from Merlin's clutches.
A sigh from Merlin, and then he dismounts, before turning to give the horse an appreciative clap as Arthur too dismounts. The horse has done well.
Arthur reaches out and grabs Merlin's hand once more, pulling him forward into an embrace. His other hand lifts to gently touch Merlin's cheek before he leans in to steal a kiss. Merlin surrenders fully, leaning into the other man, one hand clutching Arthurs fingers, the other pressed against the muscles of his chest. When they part they are both smiling.
Arthur turns to survey the land before them, one hand still holding Merlin's. The grass is greener than anywhere else in the kingdom, the air fresher and flowers and plants spring up everywhere. It is truly beautiful. At the bottom of the field lies a small cottage, hidden behind tall trees which shield it from view. This place is perfect, Arthur thinks.
He turns to look at Merlin, and he knows, he just knows, that they are finally safe. No kingly duties here, no servants work. No status, no judgement. No father, or uncle – no traitors. And no laws – here Merlin can be free, his eyes can glow as golden as they wish, his smile as wide as it can go, and always, Arthur knows, he will stay here with him.
And in years to come Arthur knows one day someone will ask 'whatever happened to the prince of Camelot?'. But he will be well forgotten and no one will be able to answer.
Arthur turns to look back at Merlin, but suddenly a bright light hides his view. Suddenly distress starts to bleed into his heart, the certainty is gone. The image of the cottage and the grass and Merlin is fading away and Arthur struggles to hold on to it...
Arthur opens his eyes, squinting against the sun. He shifts slightly, and is met by a small moan of discomfort as Merlin is dislodged from on top of him, sliding off his torso. Arthur swiftly lifts an arm to hold Merlin to his side – never wanting to let him go. As he gazes over Merlin's sleeping form he thinks back to the dream which he has just woken from.
One day, he thinks. One day Merlin, I will save you from this life.
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