Merlin was always an observant person. He was also quiet as well, but no one noticed all those hidden qualities. No one really noticed him at all, actually. Never noticing his agony or his pain. It was either "Merlin, please do this!" or "Merlin, how could you?" but never "Merlin, how are you?" Over time, Merlin pounded down and sifted through his wrangled mess of what he called feelings, breaking them apart and picked out the chunks where he was not allowed to show to anyone but himself. He was always ignored and seen as there to serve. When people had called him more or less of an idiot, they really just didn't see the true him. He wasn't the bumbling fool of a clutz people thought he was, but an intelligent, quiet man who watched over everything. He watched the little girl around the creek crying for her sick brother, skipping stones, wishing on each leap. He watched the ladies sewing all the little scraps of hard-earned, frayed fabric to cover their rooftops in desperation of shelter. He saw the desperate looks for affection Gwen gave at Arthur when he was the most arrogant. He saw the sadness and merciless gaze in Uther's eyes when he ruled the kingdom. He saw Morgana's hatred for Uther, and the blazing passion to bring back magic and overthrow him.
But most of all, he saw all Arthur's lovers. And that put Merlin into the most unrecognized pain of all. Of course, no one noticed.
*.*.*.*
Amethyst.
That was what Merlin thought of Meridia, Arthur's first. Although she was not as regal as the Dutchess Irene, she was just as fair. She had fiery red locks and lips as pink as snapdragons in Gwen's garden that her father took pride of. Her eyes were a warm dark hazel, skin fairer than Morgana's even. However, she was not noble or rich. Their relationship was hidden from others. She was the daughter of a shepherd and a cook. She was a feisty girl as well. If you were to get her mad, she would do anything to make you suffer. Other than that, she was more or less average.
Merlin remembered dressing the girl in satin gowns and delicate silver. Arthur had ordered Merlin to stay quiet about her. He had doubted Merlin, though even Merlin knew that he would do anything for Arthur no matter what. So he fetched whatever she asked for- dresses, jewels, gloves, perfumes, shoes. Each morning she asked for her hair brushed and braided and coiled like how Uther's ward Morgana's was the day previous. She would wear the same dark teal cloak and violet skirts every day, she would eat the same meals- a light pastry from the downtown bakery in the morning, light chicken and a few scraps of bread and vegetables for lunch, and whatever Arthur was having for dinner she would have.
Arthur would sneak her into the castle and into his room. There, they would make passionate hours of love on the red canopy bed while Merlin was forced to keep guard outside. When dinner had come, they would eat together as well, feed each other- undoubtedly fool around under the table- touch, playing, stripping. Merlin readied the baths for them, provided them with towels, and cleaned the messed up bedsheets.
She had the voice of an enchantress, really. It was soft and alluring, as if she was always singing a lullaby or crooning to a shy animal. Meridia had a slight accent, however. Merlin very distinctly remembered her pronouncing her "R" more like a "V" which drove Morgana insane. Merlin was happy to know that he wasn't the only one who hated the shit out of her. Morgana claimed it was too sweet and always called her a "Disgusting hog who sounds like it's trying to impersonate Lady Helen singing soprano." Merlin roared in laughter at this, though she did think it was a bit cruel to Meridia. Sure, it seemed like she was trying to hard, but she couldn't help it after all. No one could have chosen their own voice before they were born. However, it was quite hilarious and he did find it that the king's ward had a sense of humor that was so improper and local. Morgana was very likable, he decided.
Soon, however, things had broken off. Meridia soon began to think that Morgana also sought for Arthur's love and planned to end her. So she stole two vials from Gaius' chambers while she pretended to suffer from devastating headache: One containing the petals of the Devil's Cherry and the other one holding the seeds of a young larkspur plant. The larkspur gave the consumer nausea, muscle twitches, and paralysis while the belladonna root cause dilated pupils, headache, rash, urinary retention, hallucinations, delirium, and convulsions. Merlin watched her grab the two vials. While she was walking up the stairs of the west tower, Merlin purposely made her trip and bump into Arthur. She dropped the two glass bottles, shattering at Arthur's feet. Arthur saw this and demanded her to tell him why she carried the plants. When she had finally admitted what she planned to do, Arthur went into rage. She begged for Arthur's love and forgiveness back, but it was a battle long lost.
It was a tradition for noblemen to give their past lovers the flowers they thought the other associated most with. Meridia Denver's was a bouquet of marigolds and oxeye daisies. The riches she was given were also taken back, as then Arthur decided she was not worth them. They were burned in the fire of the room Arthur slept in. Their relationship didn't last long. What was to say about something that did not even manage to surpass two months? Merlin and Arthur never spoke of Meridia ever again.
*.*.*.*
Opal.
She was a beautiful maiden. Her name was literally Opaline, which was part of the reason why Merlin chose to resemble her with the stone. Opals were known for their flashing rainbow colors- a play of color.
And that was exactly what Opaline was. She was a play. She presented herself as a pure white, but in reality she was cunning scarlet red, sickening green, and even the softest pink. She had so many little bits of how she presented herself to others that eventually, she was just a mess. A beautiful mess, at that, but still, a mess. She would be pure white in front of Uther and the nobles of Camelot, green and cruel to the servants and peasants, and red to people who threatened her relationship with Arthur, and a soft pink for everyone she believed could help her.
Opaline had the palest blue eyes- periwinkle, some would say. They were so blue that they sometimes looked silver. Her father took pride in them, though she hated her father more than she could hate Merlin. Somehow, she saw something in Merlin that was dangerous to her. She had thick, eerily white hair- not platinum, surely not, but not exactly blonde either. It was as if she was stripped of color and had been born from the winter itself. She was slender and was pale, too. Merlin always thought she needed more time in the sun but wouldn't dare do such thing- he didn't want to sacrifice his friendship with Arthur now did he? Even with her hair tied up in a simple tail on her head, it still came down to her knees- below, if it weren't such a hassle.
Arthur and Opaline did not have much of a sexual relationship. Sure, they kissed, but it was more so looks of longing and idle chatter that based the relationship. Her smiles never reached her eyes, however. Arthur never noticed this. She normally was dressed in a black skirt with a modest sweetheart top rather than the laced up velvet gowns that others wore. There was a choker on her neck, with a choker that never came off. Arthur never knew why, but never pressured it. It was a strip of black satin with a gem droplet hung in the middle. She held it like it was her lifeline. Merlin saw that it was far more dear to her than Arthur was, but said nothing.
Then, one day, while they were in the tavern, Arthur spotted Opaline in the far corner- the corner
where everyone knew was for acts of intimacy and was mostly vacant- normally, people did not show public affection in Camelot, but there were some cases. She was touching- kissing- another man; grinding, scratching, moaning, biting. Merlin wished he had never seen Arthur's face that night. He looked as if his world had shattered beneath him and his eyes were filled to the brim with tears and hurt. Then was anger.
When they had gotten back to Arthur's room- Merlin led him there, holding his hand gently and eased his sorrow with soft words- Arthur collapsed on his canopy head and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, clenching Merlin's hand tightly. Soon, he had fallen asleep but only out of pure exhaustion. Merlin kissed the prince's forehead sweetly and looked after him over the night, calming him in his sleep.
The next morning, when Opaline came back to the castle as if nothing happened to meet Arthur, she was not let in. "A royal request," said the guard. However, she was cunning. She formally came through the door left from Uther and went up to Arthur's rooms expected to be welcomed in open arms. She was greeted by stony-eyed Merlin. He quietly bade her farewell and warned her calmly to never come back and face the closed doors of the future king of Camelot or she would deeply regret it. Opaline took this lightly. She merely shoved Merlin off with a few words as if that could make him back off. "Oh, shush. Where is Arthur? I'll have you that when I become queen, you would be the first one banished from Camelot."
When she entered the room, she was again greeted with stony blue eyes. Opaline blinked innocently, fluttering her pale lashes. Arthur only raised an eyebrow and slammed the door in her face. The guards appeared right then, restraining her and eventually throwing her in the dungeons.
Different flowers were given this time. The bouquet sent white and purple anemones, and blood red wildflowers. Merlin was sent to give them to her down in the cellars. He wasn't shy to spike the scent of the flowers with a spell that physically tortured Opaline so much that she eventually ended her own life.
Arthur spent another night dazed in his room. Merin comforted him again, this time holding his other hand.
*.*.*.*
Cobalt.
Killian was Arthur's first male lover. He had dark blue eyes that looked as if they were painted on and scruffy black hair that was so untameable he had given up long ago. He was also the first one Merlin actually got along with- or at least long enough that they didn't entirely ignore each other and send pointed looks every other time they did value the existence of the other. The acknowledgment was a start to understanding that Arthur would never be his. Now that struck him hard. Hard and painful. He plastered on a smile and went on, however.
Arthur met Killian at one of his father's ridiculous parties. He was a knight from the lands north from Camelot. They hit off immediately, bonding over sparring and training sessions. Soon enough, they had fallen what they believed was love and Arthur publicly announced that he was, in fact, bisexual and was dating Killian. The public did not oppose to this, and their relationship lasted quite long.
They had a schedule. Breakfast alone in their private rooms in the morning, then sparring down in the arena. After the sparring, they would visit the town and visit the hounds. When the sun reaches the point of the sky and beams down on Camelot, they would head back for a brief lunch and follow on by taking places and guard the castle- giving Gwaine and Leon a break. When Gwaine and Leon return, they head back and enjoy the evening- either in the gardens, eating dinner, or sparring again. Merlin had this schedule etched into his brain.
Strangely, it was probably the most miserable time of his life. He quickly dismissed this, however. Why should he be mad about Arthur being happy? He deserved to be happy, he deserved to feel complete, he deserved this. He deserved a relationship that would actually suit him. Killian and he got along perfectly. Arthur was never going to be his, and he should accept that. Killian was more worthy of Arthur's love more than any other one of his other relationships. Why shouldn't they belong together?
But when Arthur had announced that he was- well, gay, he couldn't help to have a flicker of hope- a flicker that died out quickly, but still a flicker. So Merlin found himself longing for Arthur even more. There was more staring, more thinking, more dreams. Sometimes he thought that Killian noticed them and pitied him, which just made him feel worthless and angry. At this point, Morgana had already switched sides and Merlin was now even more desperate to have someone to rant on. But Gwen loved Arthur and Merlin could not lose someone as dear to him as Gwen or he feared that it would truly be his end. Every smile Arthur casted Killian hurt him. It felt like someone was pounding into his heart with a hammer. All Merlin needed was one last fatal blow that would finally destroy him. Merlin lived in the fear that Arthur would find out and end their friendship. If it wasn't Arthur's love that Merlin craved, it was the promise that he made to himself that he would never hurt Arthur. He could never live with the fact that he hurt the man he desired more than the world.
And then Merlin's darkest desire came true. Killian broke up with Arthur. And strangely, Arthur took it better than Opaline though he was much happier with Killian. Arthur wasn't exactly happy about the split, but he didn't even come close to being half as heartbroken as when he broke off with Opaline and Adeline. Soon, Merlin began to feel guilty. He blamed himself for wanting Arthur for himself. He blamed himself for being so selfish and thoughtless.
Killian approached Merlin the night before he left. Merlin remembered talking in a dark path with him, talking softly in the moonlight. They looked over Camelot in the night, the silver cloak of the Northern cities billowing in the wind. Merlin had all sorts of questions for the night, but one in particular. Why had he left Arthur? Arthur was undoubtedly the most desirable man of all the lands but Killian had broken up with him. Merlin envied him for being able to let him go.
The answer to his question hurt more than he expected.
Merlin's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Sir? Of all the times he has been in love with someone, of all the times he has been in a relationship with someone, you were definitely the one that was by far the most promising. He seemed to love you the most out of all of them. Why would you break from someone who loved you that much? Is it because you don't love him anymore?" How could someone not love Arthur Pendragon? Sure, he was a prat, but he had a good heart.
Killian smiled sadly. "Why. You have no idea. I see why Arthur has gotten so attached to you. You're quite innocent," he said wistfully. "You see, he's already in love with someone else. Completely, utterly, smitten. And he has good taste, at that. I think I was really more of a distraction to ease his hunger for the one made for him, really."
Merlin remembered his world-shattering when he heard those words. If Arthur had already told Killian that he loved someone else- no, if Arthur had already given himself up for that person, then he had no chance. It wasn't much of a surprise that he had no chance, but that Arthur was gone.
He thanked Killian and prepared a horse for his journey, along with a pack of food and a canteen of water. After the knight had ridden off into the sunrise and into the musky air of the woods, Merlin set off to prepare Arthur's breakfast.
(Neither of them knew how much they loved the other.)
*.*.*.*
Yes, I'm bitter about Julian Blackthorn. No, they won't get a happy ending. And they NEVER WILL. BECAUSE HI, BCC. THAT'S THAT YOU DID TO US.
Hi. Unbeta'd.