It's All About Self-Control
Merlin could move objects before he could talk. He knew how to slow down time so he wouldn't end up spilling everything for so long he didn't know if he had starting doing it because he was clumsy or if he was clumsy because he did it so often. He could transform paintings and statues into living animals, he could make flames higher, he could stand up to dragons and had mastered the power over life and death.
What he couldn't control, though, was how he felt around Arthur – or how his magic reacted to him. She seemed more than a bit in love since the first time he set his eyes Camelot's Prince, and grew bolder every single day. His magic didn't seem to mind that he might get caught and killed, as long as it got to flash around Arthur.
This, of course, had no relation whatsoever to how Merlin felt about Arthur. He was a prat, and a clockpole, and so arrogant that he honestly believed everyone's biggest wish in life was doing his will. Well, except for his father, that is. He had grown to respect Arthur, alright, and they were sort of friends, sure, but that didn't mean he actually liked him.
Because he really didn't. He had liked Will, and he liked Lancelot, and Gwen that was so adorable, and even Morgana a while back. He surely liked Gwaine, that respected and trusted him, and Gaius, who was like a father for him. He felt nothing like that about Arthur, it was all destiny and compromise.
When Arthur was around he was never laid back and relaxed as when his friends were around. Arthur got him thinking, and looking everywhere, and noticing things. Arthur had that smell that made hard to think, and even harder to make complete sentences. And those annoying habits of him, and the mess in his room, it was a miracle that Merlin could save him at all with all his complaining and all the chores Arthur gave him. He felt like he was living each day for Arthur and he hated it.
Sure, the was some pride too, for it was clear that Arthur was growing more like the kind of King he would love to support. He was still unsure and a bit rash at times, not to mention absolutely blind when it came about magic, but that didn't mean he actually cared for Arthur, the person – it was all about the prince, as usual.
Arthur was a problem in so many ways, especially when that completely sentient sense that was his magic took notice on him. It seemed to happen more often when they were alone, or when they were too close. Merlin had to struggle to keep it from bursting out and making a firework show out of… Well, he honestly had no idea what it would be like, and had no wish to known, he would like to stay alive, thank you very much.
It was just this agitation and this feeling, it made his stomach go funny, full of knots and his skin go sensible, giving him shivers at the slightest touch, and his knees got all weak and untrustworthy, and since he had to fight thrice as hard to control his magic, it wasn't a good thing, it made him clumsier and he couldn't avoid things from falling in front of Arthur. It was very unpleasant, all things considered, and he hated Arthur – and his magic willingness – for it.
It was all about self control, right? It was all about the shown and wanting Arthur to see all the wonderful things magic could do, and convince him to accept it, to accept Merlin as he was and his people for his gifts. It didn't mean he liked the guy. It meant nothing. He should just keep his self control in check and his magic under control and nothing would ever go wrong.
Not, of course, that it was important to keep Arthur safe for Arthur's own sake. He had no feelings for Arthur, after all.
(Keep telling yourself that, it might even sound true).
A/N: Here I am, yet again, writing Merthur instead of sleeping. I hope you do enjoy it, for this fic got me out of bed one more time just to spread the merthur love.
