Arthur was there when Merlin first met her.

It was the winter of their senior year, fifth of January, the air thick with the smell of ice and smoke from chimneys miles away, all students returning from their Christmas holiday. In the courtyard the students were gathering, chatting up a storm about what they'd done and who'd they'd been with, laughing about everything and nothing. Arthur and Merlin were no exception, despite the fact that they'd met up a few times over the extended break.

Arthur and Merlin had been best friends since the last year of junior high. What had started out as a mutual dislike for one another slowly burned into a mutual respect that somehow ended up as a full blown friendship. To think it had all started with Merlin's miraculous spur of courage, when he decided that standing up to Arthur and his prat-like ways, even daring to throw a punch when provoked, was the beginning of it. (Of course, they both ended up in detention for said punch, even though no one actually hit anyone.) After that, they'd been nearly inseparable. Wherever there was Arthur, there was Merlin, and if you messed with Merlin, you messed with Arthur. On the other hand, if you were friends with Merlin, you were friends with Arthur, and vice versa. It was never just Arthur or just Merlin, it was Merlin and Arthur, and everyone respected it just like that.

Despite the nippy weather outside, most students mingled at the front gates, not wanting to yet go inside to start their days. The school was still covered in a thin layer of snow, footprints quickly appearing with each step every student took. The two had just found themselves heading for the door, when Merlin saw her first.

Freya Waters was her name. It wasn't hard to tell that she was new—she looked so out of place, off by herself in some corner of the front stairs, gazing around helplessly, obviously needing some sort of assistance but unsure of who to ask for said assistance. Her eyes were anxious and her hands were knitted together in a frantic matter, hair tied back messily with strands hanging in her face. Pretty, dark hair, Arthur had thought when he'd first seen her. She looked so terrified, and Arthur actually felt bad for her. Though he himself never knew the pain of feeling helpless (Pendragons didn't feel helpless), it must've been pretty awful. That was when Merlin went over, waving his hand, conveying his intentions.

It was evident to Arthur from the start that Merlin had seen something in her. Something he couldn't put his finger on. Something that had sparked. For once, that boy had no doubts, or reservations, and was all confidence. It was a good look on him, Arthur would later think. He went straight to her and gave her his best charming smile, similar to the cocky smile he'd first given Arthur when they'd met, only, it was a great deal softer. He introduced himself, and offered a hand, and when she took it, that was where it began, without a doubt.

Arthur was there when Merlin first fell in love with her.

It wasn't hard to tell. He listened to Merlin babble excessively about all the things he'd learned about her in a short time, which Arthur found hard to believe she'd even opened her mouth to him. She'd seemed so quiet and shy—he felt like it would've taken Merlin longer to get something out of her, but then again, the boy did have that particular feeling to him. He radiated something that was comforting, welcoming, and it made people want to trust him. (It had worked on Arthur of all people. Eventually.)

Apparently her father was in the army, and they moved around a lot. She never had a lot of friends because of moving around a lot, but she'd been grateful for Merlin's presence entirely. She loved reading and writing and nature, and swimming and everything that was so Merlin as well that it was almost as if Merlin was talking about himself. He'd never heard Merlin talk this much about anyone, and to be frank, no one talked about anyone as much as he was now unless they liked them. A lot. It was one thing to be pleasantly curious about someone, it was another to want to talk about them all the time.

It was in his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes, Arthur could see it. Merlin was completely smitten with the girl and to be honest, he really didn't blame him.

It wasn't unknown to Arthur that he had his own feelings for Merlin. He'd come to terms with them over a year ago, mere days after their first encounter. At first, it had only been a mere attraction, a fascination with someone who didn't worship the ground he walked on, who had the courage to stand up to him when no one else would, but of course, getting to know him, who wouldn't fall for him, all of him? Despite all his faults, the bumbling, lovable idiot was truly a work of art.

Arthur didn't blame him because if had eyes for anyone other than Merlin, he could've fallen for Freya, too.

Arthur was there when Merlin first kissed her.

It had been a few months since she'd first come, and there was a steady friendship between the two. Even Arthur had grown fond of her. She honestly was a sweet, caring, and loving girl and Arthur couldn't hate her if he tried.

Freya made Merlin happy, and keeping that adorable smile on Merlin's face was really all that Arthur cared about. Freya helped to plaster it there. So Arthur welcomed her into his circle of friendship. After all, he had his own friends other than Merlin, therefore Merlin should be allowed to have friends of his own. Everyone was practically mutually friends with one another, therefore, Freya should've been included, and for Merlin, he went out of his way to make sure she knew that.

The rest of the group: Leon, Lance, Gwen, Morgana, amongst everyone else—they'd all taken to her with relative ease. They invited her out regularly to spend the spectacular Friday nights with. Freya's more talkative side finally reared its head after a while, and it was a bit of a relief. It used to be as though one was having a conversation with a wall when speaking to her, having her so lip-locked.

They were at Arthur's place that night, the Friday after the midterms when it happened. There had been a lot of alcohol, courtesy of Gwaine and Leon, though Arthur knew Merlin was smart enough not to drink any, evident from how he seemed to stick to the cola that night. (Merlin was a lightweight, anyway.) Arthur himself had a few shots but nothing that could have made him drunk, and honestly, he almost wish he had been drunk.

He stood by the window opposite from them, watching how Merlin and Freya sat on the couch, chatting, laughing, and then a pause. The two locked eyes, and Merlin reached out, tucking a stray stand of her dark hair behind her ear. She watched him intently before he finally cupped her cheek, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.

Arthur watched against his better judgment. She didn't push him back and that was when he knew.

Damn it all, Freya loved him too.

Arthur was the one Merlin went to when they went on their first date.

Merlin was hopeless when it came to dressing himself. He had no idea what looked good on him and what looked bad, what brought out his eyes or even what complimented his complexion. Arthur, on the other hand, was relatively decent at it, contrary to anyone's belief. Living with Morgana, it was hard not to learn a thing or two about fashion. So naturally, Arthur had some pretty good advice.

Merlin had been frantic that night, calling him an hour (only an hour!) before the date, panicking and swearing and saying something along the lines of, "Arthur, Arthur oh my god you have to help me I have no idea what I'm doing and—is green a good color on me, do you know?"

Arthur had laughed at him at first, telling him no, green was definitely not his color, and to come over so he could properly assess him before his big date. Merlin was over at the house in less than twenty minutes. ("Seriously Merlin, there was no need to break the speed limit!" "You're allowed to break the speed limit on emergencies." "Is it really that big of an emergency?" "Arthur, this is my first date ever. Of course it's an emergency." "All right, all right. You big girl." "Prat.")

He dressed him up the best he could, offering him some of his old things that Merlin could actually fit into. The poor boy was helpless at tying a tie for heaven's sake, but overall pulled off a decent look. If anything, he was certain that Freya wouldn't be disappointed.

Arthur forced Merlin to comb his tangled mess of hair and brush his teeth, and by the time that was all over, he was nearly late so Arthur shoved him out the door with one of the roses from Morgana's room (not that he'd ever tell her he stole one), telling him distinctly not to fuck it up.

He didn't.

Arthur was the one Merlin came crying to when they broke up for the first time.

Freya and Merlin were in a steady relationship after their first date. It was actually a very well, very suited relationship, so Arthur was surprised when it happened. They complimented each other in a sickeningly sweet way, almost like Lance and Gwen. (Though no one could be as disgustingly made for each other as those two.)

Four and a half months the relationship had gone on, four and a half beautiful months for Merlin and torturous ones for Arthur (unknown to Merlin, of course). Arthur wasn't even sure what had happened, only that Merlin had come banging on his door at God-knows-what hour (he later discovered that it wasn't nearly as late as he'd suspected it'd been, and that Arthur was just a very tired and very sad man for thinking it so), his face a mess of tears, looking breathless as if he'd ran the entire way there (which wasn't true, obviously, since Merlin's car was in the driveway. How reckless had he been driving, Arthur wondered later.)

But being the best mate he was, Arthur took him inside with no questions, set him down on the couch, wrapped a blanket around him, and went into the kitchen to make tea. When he emerged later with a steaming hot mug, Merlin's sobs had subsided, and he reached out for the mug like a child.

Arthur sat down with him in silence, letting him sip the liquid slowly, letting it coat his throat. This was a routine for them, whenever one was upset, there was silence until they decided they wanted to talk, and if they didn't, it was never spoken of and they ended up watching movies the whole night away.

Finally, when the mug was drained, Merlin spoke.

"Freya broke up with me."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, a tight frown on his lips. "What happened?"

"I don't know, I..." Merlin's voice cracked. "We were out on our date, and I took her home and she just...told me. Said that she loved me but...we should give it a break. That we should see other people..." he took a sharp inhale of breath.

He continued to recollect the events of the evening, and even further back then that, as if trying to pinpoint when he'd messed up so bad that she wanted to break it off. Arthur rubbed smooth circles in his back as he spoke, and finally, Merlin choked out, "I don't know what I did wrong..."

"Merlin," Arthur drew out the first syllable of his name in a familiar way, as he always did. "You didn't do anything wrong, you hear? You're a brilliant boyfriend and any girl would be lucky to have you. She doesn't know what she's letting go of."

Merlin looked at him skeptically, so Arthur elaborated. "I mean, come on. You were her first friend when she got here. You gave her love and appreciation when she wanted it and gave her space when she needed it. You didn't cheat, which I would've killed you for if you had, you invited her willingly into your own circle of friends, and you did your best to make her feel welcome when no one else passed her a second glance. If that doesn't scream perfect boyfriend, nothing ever will. Now if you please, wipe that kicked puppy look off your face or I'll be forced to take drastic measures to remove it."

At that, the boy let out a soft chuckle, running his slender fingers up and down the ceramic of the mug. He sighed, nodding his head just faintly. "Thanks, Arthur."

He punched him affectionately in the arm. "You'd do the same for me."

Arthur was the first to know when they got back together.

It was a late night, or at least, it felt like it. The sky was dark, overcast with grey cloud that rumbled overhead. It was clear a storm was on its way, and Arthur was eager to get home to avoid it.

He got into his car and drove the same route he always did, which was past the park. The drive was his way of purging his thoughts in a way—just sort of a rhythmic beat that emptied his mind. He scarcely thought when he drove home, almost as if he just shut down his mind completely. It was pure chance that he caught sight of the familiar tall and lanky figure standing there, a smaller, petite brunette in his arms, holding each other as if they'd never let go again.

The rain started to come down, dripping onto the windshield as he watched them, slowly, for just a minute. He thought about offering them a ride but it didn't seem like they'd be moving anytime soon.

And Arthur was pretty sure that even if he offered, they wouldn't hear him anyway.

Arthur knew that Merlin would propose before Merlin knew.

Graduation finally came after what felt like decades of time. As relieved as he should have been, Arthur casually reminded himself that he still had university to get through, and no matter how much it would help him get a decent job later, he really wasn't looking forward to it.

The summer day was hot, as always, and all of the seniors were dying to grab their diplomas and "blow this joint", as Gwaine so lovingly put it. The chatter on the grounds was even louder than usual, and everyone donned their robes when time for the ceremony came.

One by one, the names of his friends, not so friends, and Merlin were called. At one point, his own name was called, of course, and he took his diploma, shook the administrator's hand, then retook his seat.

Merlin gave him a thumbs up, and he returned to clapping for the other students.

He watched as Freya took to the stage, received her diploma, gave the crowd a very hesitant smile, and stepped down. Merlin, who had no shame at all, it seemed, stood for her, and met her half way, not caring who happened to see, and kissed her fully on the lips. When he pulled back, she was blushing furiously, but smiling, looking relieved, and he hugged her, pulling her closer against him.

Arthur continued to clap, ignoring the tug in his chest.

Arthur picked out the ring that Merlin would use to propose to her.

University was a bitch, Arthur realized during their second year. The first year had been swell enough to get through, almost like freshman year all over again—more like getting used to the surroundings. But second year seemed to be a bit more challenging, which meant less time for fun and more time for work.

The work somehow helped Arthur ease his mind. Merlin and Freya were still together, of course, even at different universities. Merlin was at a different university than he, even, but they'd made plans almost all the time to keep in touch, and emailed regularly. He assumed it was the same for the couple themselves. Arthur, though he dreaded it, waited for the day Merlin came to him and told him he wanted to propose.

It came sooner than he'd anticipated.

Merlin had come over to his dorm one Saturday morning, deeming it "an emergency of the utmost importance", a sort of code they used, which really meant I'm hopeless and I need help. Arthur was out of bed in less than ten minutes.

Arthur, without question, took him to all the jewelry stores around town, sifted through gemstone after band after price—Merlin had to have the best, the perfect, the one that would fit just right on Freya's finger. Arthur had no issue with it, felt no malice towards the girl—if she had charmed Merlin, then Merlin she should have, would have, could have.

It took hours for him to decide. Merlin used nearly all of his savings to buy it, but without a single regret. If he hadn't had enough, Arthur probably would've gotten it for him. They would've bickered over it a lot, Merlin insisting he didn't need Arthur's charity, but he would've done it. It would've been one more stab to his heart, but he would've done it, in an instant, because Merlin deserved it. Freya deserved it.

It was perfect for her, anyway.

Arthur was the one Merlin called first when she said yes.

He knew she would, really. No one could resist Merlin. (At least in his eyes, and it was apparent the rest of the world agreed, most of the time.) Merlin was everything a girl could want—charming, sweet, could cook, creative, gorgeous. He was as close to perfection as the world would ever get, to Arthur. Anyone who didn't agree with him was obviously blind.

It was late, around ten o' clock, and Arthur knew that, of course, he'd taken her out first, flattered her and spoiled her like crazy, until he finally popped the question. So when the phone rang, he didn't even look at the number before pressing 'talk', and waiting.

"She said yes! She said yes!"

He could hear the relief, excitement, and weariness all mixed into one voice. He allowed himself to smile faintly, only for Merlin, he thought, only for Merlin did he smile.

Arthur proceeded to tell him of how happy he was for him, about how he knew that they would be very happy together, how glad he was that Merlin had found someone. (With a teasing tone, of course. Can't have Merlin thinking he'd gone soft, even if he had, just a bit, just for him.) Merlin prattled on about how it went down, and how he was already imagining how the wedding would be. Arthur hummed occasionally in confirmation, but honestly, couldn't bring himself to listen.

"You'll be my best man, won't you? Oh, say you will, Arthur, say you will!"

When the words were spoken, his heart was screaming, begging him, say no, say no! But the way Merlin's tone was, the hopeful, playful tone that disguised the real, genuine question, he knew what his answer was before it even left his lips.

"Of course," Arthur said jokingly, then portrayed a haughty, mock-hurt voice. "I'd be offended if you didn't ask me!"

"Prat!"

The sound of Merlin's warm laughter was the only thing that kept him from crying.

Arthur was the one that helped Merlin plan the wedding.

He wasn't the official wedding planner, of course, (that was Morgana's job) but his opinion was highly valued by Merlin, and surprisingly, by Freya. Freya didn't hold him in the high regard that Merlin did, but he could tell that his input was important to her. Whether for Merlin's sake, or just for her, he'd never know.

It wasn't as though Arthur and Freya were enemies—no, quite the opposite. As always, he thought of her as a friend. They were friends. They had bonded over their mutual like for Merlin, if anything else. Whether or not Freya knew of Arthur's true feelings for her fiancé was a mystery, but Arthur would always be suspicious of that sad look she always gave him, every now and again, the one of pity that made him sick to his stomach every time he saw it.

"Arthur, is it suitable for us to just elope, already?" Merlin whined to him one day, plopping down on his bed, curling up in an adorable little ball that made Arthur ache even in the very dark corners of his heart. "This is madness."

But instead of relaying that, he snorted. "Of course not. Your poor mother would be crushed. And I'm not sure Freya would approve."

"She would!" Merlin protested. "She's just as sick of all this wedding nonsense as much as I am. She would so go for eloping."

"Well, don't," Arthur muttered in reply. "You're halfway through wedding preparations. Would be a waste to throw it all away, now. Not to mention Morgana will likely castrate you if you do elope."

Merlin hummed lightly in response, lips curled in a slight pout as he closed his eyes. Arthur looked down at him, realizing he was like a child, worn out and weary from the stress of the world. He wanted nothing more to take him into his arms and keep him sheltered from that world, to keep him safe.

But instead, he just retrieved a blanket, putting it over him.

Merlin made a small grunt of disapproval, surprisingly. "Work to do," he slurred, but Arthur huffed in response.

"Sleep, idiot. Work can wait."

And it could.

The wedding was beautiful.

There was no question about it, really. It was as beautiful as anyone could've ever hoped it to be. It was small, simple, but glorious, like the couple. Music enveloped the room, the light murmur of the guests waiting in anticipation for the bride to arrive.

Merlin fidgeted at the altar, constantly wiping his hands on his pants. Arthur told him to stop worrying and his hands would stop sweating, to which Merlin laughed, telling him exasperatedly that he couldn't help it.

"I feel like the luckiest man alive," he told him, eyes alight. "I never thought that...I could ever be this happy. It's perfect, everything is perfect right now, right here. Don't you think?"

No, no! Arthur's mind was screaming. It's not perfect because you're not mine.

Instead, he smiled faintly."Yeah, it really is..." he then cleared his throat, watching Merlin raise a brow in question, before letting out a sigh. "Listen, Merlin, I know now's not the best time to tell you this...and also, I will be giving a seriously embarrassing speech at the reception," he said, his smile twisting to a more real one, to which Merlin gave him a disapproving tut, but was still smiling anyway. "But I wanted to tell you that...I really am happy for you. You're my best mate and you've made my life a hell of a lot more fun. I want to thank you for that. I want to wish you all the luck in the world."

It took all Arthur had not to choke on the words. Merlin gave him that grin he loved so much—full of sunshine and everything he thought was right in the world. "Arthur, I'm getting married. I'm not running away and leaving you behind forever. But...I'm glad. That I've made you happy. You deserve it! I want to thank you, too. You mean a lot to me. Without you, I don't know what I'd do."

Live, he thought. You'd live on.

The doors opened then, and the voices died down, then stopped completely. Merlin's breath hitched, and his face flushed as Freya and her father walked down the aisle. She looked as stunning as ever, all dressed in white, her father looking sad, but proud, just as Arthur felt. Her father handed her off, and Merlin took her hands into his own. His eyes were already a little red, and Arthur could imagine that he was struggling not to cry.

"You look beautiful as ever," Arthur heard Merlin whisper to her, and even beneath her veil, Arthur knew she was blushing as furiously as he was.

The priest beamed at the happy couple, then opened his book, and began to recite the normal wedding speech. He then asked them to take their vows, which the couple recited back to one another, the ring bearer stepping up to hand them their rings. They slipped them on with ease, perfect fits for both of them. Both Merlin and Freya were beaming like lunatics.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Arthur wanted to look away, but he couldn't. No, he wouldn't. This was one of the most important days in Merlin's life, and if he didn't watch it unfold, what friend would he be? He'd probably regret it for the rest of his life if he looked away now. He loved Merlin, he loved him so much he was willing, no, wanted him to be happy. Even if being happy meant being happy without him to make it so.

So he watched, and he clapped, just as everyone else. Merlin lifted her veil and leaned down, kissing her tenderly on the mouth. Arthur smiled tightly, and caught Freya's gaze. She looked at him, lips curling upwards in a soft smile, and he gave her a look that was unseen to anyone but her.

Take care of him.

She gave the faintest nod, and Arthur knew somewhere deep down, it would be okay.

Arthur gave his speech at the reception.

It was full of nonsense, a bit (overly) exaggerated, but full of laughter and tears. Embarrassing as it was, it was still full of memories, taking everyone back to the time they'd first met, which was, without a doubt, a pleasant memory. Arthur raised a toast to the now Mr. and Mrs. Emrys, and everyone chorused in response, drinking themselves silly.

Late into the night, Merlin came out and caught Arthur outside, wrapping his arms around his neck in a warm embrace. Freya was occupied with her bridesmaids and family, so Arthur knew that this moment could be taken for them, just the two of them, alone.

Arthur bit his lip, taking a deep breath before wrapping his arms around him, too. The cool metal of Merlin's new ring rested on the back of his neck, and Arthur closed his eyes. There wasn't any need for words, because Arthur could hear what Merlin was saying loud and clear. Thank you, old friend. Arthur replied just the same, you're welcome, you're welcome. In all the time he'd known him, in every crazy second he'd spent with this man, never once did Arthur regret anything he did for Merlin, walking with him to this moment in his life.

With Merlin in his arms, like they were, Arthur knew clearly one thing; even if Merlin didn't love him, didn't love him as Arthur did, he could be okay with that.

Because in his own, very silly way, Merlin did love him, and would always, without a doubt, be there for him when he needed it.

And that was enough for Arthur.

This is probably the saddest thing I've written for Merlin and Arthur. Oops.

I don't know, I wrote this a while back. I've seen so many fics where Arthur is the one who falls for someone else, and Merlin is the one who watches miserably from the sidelines. I have a thing for Role Reversals, so I figured that once, just once, I wanted to see Arthur being the one left behind (in a sense).

Plus, whilst I ship Merthur to death, I have a tiny soft spot for Merlin/Freya.

Anyway, despite all the sadness, I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!