Antithesis
First Merlin fic! XD OK. I have only seen two episodes so far, because Australia is six months behind everyone else in the universe, so if anything is OOC let me know! Beta'd by and dedicate'd to the always superlative Joys, whose editorials make me giggle. XP Don't own. Thank goodness.
Merlin.
Arthur stops, pen nub poised, and glances at the door. Locked.
Good.
The fire cackling merrily beside him, he lowers the pregnant drop of ink to the white parchment, letting it blot for a second before carving it into words.
Have you realised how often my thoughts return to you? It is bad enough that I spend a good twelve hours of each day in your company, only to return to my quarters to contemplate you for another twelve.
I refuse to think of you as the bane of my existence, because that would imply that I would not be able to exist without you.
Which I very well can.
He pauses, contemplating. Trying to structure thought, separate fact from fiction, black from white.
To distinguish between heart and mind.
Of course, he has never been particularly eloquent, much favouring the poetry in motion that is duelling or sword fighting, but he crafts the words as best he can.
Although, I must admit, you are something entirely different to anyone I've ever met before. Intolerable, yet intriguing. I can't quite place it. Place you.
You are not a stranger, since it seems like you have been beside me for years.
You are not my friend, for no friend treats me the way you do.
You are not my enemy, because you seem incapable of-
Of what? Of evil?
Arthur frowns slightly, picturing reflective eyes set within an artfully carved face.
Incapable of doing harm... to people other than myself.
Which is true; he has had many cuts and bruises from their fights, be it fists or swords. But somehow, Merlin's actions seem to have no malice in them. Only pure, lithe power.
It is Arthur's own fault if he steps in the way.
You are not a great many things, Merlin. Which makes me wonder exactly what you are.
You are... My antithesis.
My opposite.
Not just in appearance, Arthur thought bitterly, placing down his pen to massage his palm. In almost everything else.
We are contrasts, as different as the sun and moon.
There was Merlin with his mesmerising visage; Elvin face, slender frame, ebony hair, elegant fingers. A knowledgeable man, quick-witted and amiable. But he had a shadow around him, like he was holding something back. And then there was Arthur; broad shoulders, golden blonde hair, chiselled features. He was fiery, arrogant and abrasive. But he was passionate for justice, always noble.
Just as the sun and moon pass briefly each day, we share only split seconds of common thought, of friendly gestures.
And, no matter how hard Arthur fights it, he finds himself wishing that he could have them again.
And again.
Forever.
But he can't.
I shouldn't want those instances as much as I do. The astrologists tell of balance, of alignment within heavenly bodies. The sun and moon cannot co-exist in the sky, for they would destroy each other.
Which is what he truly fears. Not rejection, not scorn, but the decay that would purse him at every turn, even with Merlin by his side.
Jealousy within lust. Hatred within love.
An unholy union doomed to fail. By chance, or by force, but it will fail. Mark me.
Arthur places his head onto his knees, staring at the fire, parchment clenched in his hand. After the tremors stop wracking him, he smooths out the paper again, and continues.
The only complete thing in the world is this. Camelot. A unified city in times of war and conflict. These people need me to rule them, to keep them safe from the many dangers that surround us every day. You, of all people, would know of them; you always seem to get caught up in the goings on. And even though it is a thankless, gruelling position, it is the greatest requirement of me. To continue the rule of the Pendragons.
I cannot just grin and say 'Sod it' and disappear into the forests outside the walls, seeking adventure where there is only danger and death. I have responsibility. And honour. And after my father passes away, I will ascend the throne and rule justly.
But...
But it doesn't seem all that attractive to me. Not...
Arthur lets his eyes close as he scrawls the familiar words that have marked his letters of late.
Not without you.
He can't write those words while looking at them. They cause his hand to seize and his head to spin, as though warning him against the boy with the inky hair and easy smile.
Which is why, instead of sealing this letter, putting on my cloak and boots and heading over to the House of the Physician, to present it to you, I am going to throw it into the fire beside me, and watch it burn.
Merlin...
He sighs, and ploughs on.
I'm sorry that I can't. But it doesn't mean that I don't.
Arthur.
The ink has barely sunk into the parchment before Arthur crushes it in his fist and throws it into the hearth. Blue eyes wide and empty, he watches the flames lick at the blackening letter. When he is sure that the fire has consumed his offering, he leans against the wall, gathering himself.
He breathes out. Unlocks the door. Gets into bed, and tries to sleep.
A fruitless gesture, but worth an effort.
Much like love.
So? What is the general consensus?
I'll know if you review!
XD