A/N: So about three weeks ago I told my friends that I was cutting myself off from fandoms. Then Halloween came, and I dressed up as Arthur, and my best friend (FlyingMachine1, check out her stuff, it's so feelsy you'll die) dressed up as Merlin. After acting like a prat all day while she flawlessly acted like the witty little sorcerer we all love, well, needless to say I'm back! So here's this little one shot, hope you all enjoy!
Oh, and happy 50th story from me! *launches fireworks*
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
"Rise and shine!"
Arthur groaned. He wondered if his manservant was even capable of saying anything of any variance in the mornings. Hearing the same thing every morning was going to get tiresome at some point. Every morning he said that, it was a way of welcoming another duplicate of the day before. However, after the initial bite of annoyance at the repetition, there was something calming about it. Hearing Merlin say that silly phrase every morning was somehow reassuring to Arthur. It calmed him, as if the simple phrase was really saying, 'everything's alright, everything's normal… Merlin's okay and worthless as usual, but he's still here… It's just another morning, there's a chance that maybe no one will kill you today…' When a person has a whirlwind of a life, where he doesn't know if he'll still be alive to wake up the next morning, it is important to have some sort of constant. And Merlin was just that: constant. Something within Arthur, either from foolishness or some strange premonition, knew that Merlin would always be there. He'd always say "Rise and shine!" every morning, he'd always be terrible at any form of humor, he'd always be a useless servant, he'd always be fatally optimistic, but at the same time always think that any sort of step towards danger would be Arthur's doom. Most important, he'd always be there. Come Hell or Heaven, Merlin would be there, looking at Arthur with such innocent trust that gave the prince more strength than any amount of training ever could or grinning like an idiot at his side.
Wow. Mornings made him think like a girl.
With the sound of Merlin's normal greeting, Arthur was ready to get up and start up another normal day, hopefully void of perils. It was just going to be another normal day... until he opened his eyes and saw Merlin standing at the foot of his bed, his hands behind his back, that stupid look on his face he had whenever he was trying too hard not to smile, and practically vibrating from suppressed excitement.
Arthur raised a brow at the boy. "What's got you shaking like a dog?"
The insult did nothing to dampen Merlin's spirits. Rarely anything ever did. "You know what today is?"
Arthur took in a deep breath, trying to clear his head from the fog of sleep. "...Tyr's Day?"
His answer seemed to just make Merlin giddier. "And?"
"Merlin, you should know by now not to question me this early in the morning."
"Well, it is a pretty important day, I thought you might have known."
Arthur huffed. "Please, enlighten me."
"It's your birthday!"
Arthur blinked. He had completely forgotten. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. Most people loved birthdays; other people made them feel special, they received gifts, it was a day where the world seemed to slow down to revolve around them. A birthday for a prince should be something thought of as nothing short of incredible, what with the banquet, the dance, music… Any boy's dream. But not Arthur's.
Arthur watched Merlin. The way he was practically bouncing with excitement now, how his lips broke into his trademark grin. It had always amazed the prince how excited Merlin could become, especially for other people. It was one of the best things about him; how selfless he was. Not that Arthur would ever tell Merlin that was how he felt.
"So… happy birthday!" Merlin said through his smile. He crossed with sideways strides to the table, carefully keeping his hands behind his back. The table had an impressive display of food upon it. "I got up early and made all your favorites this morning. Thought you could do with a treat."
Arthur didn't want to ruin Merlin's happiness, he didn't want that grin to go away. It was times like these that Arthur needed it most. And the display of food really did look amazing, so he forced a smile onto his face. "Thank you, Merlin."
Another thing about Merlin: he knew Arthur too well. As soon as he spoke, the grin dropped from Merlin's face. "Are you alright?"
"Fine, Merlin," Arthur answered, trying to sound earnest. His heart wanted to see that smile again. He couldn't take another bad thing happening on account of it being the day of his birth. "Honest."
"Are you sure? You don't look well."
"I said I'm fine," that came out a lot sharper than he had meant for it to be.
Merlin's form became still, and his eyes flashed downwards, but just for a moment. He cleared his throat, his body beginning to shake a little again, but this time it wasn't from excitement. "Well, um, if you don't need anything else, I'll let you eat your breakfast in your private council…"
Arthur nodded, even though he didn't want Merlin to leave. But he also couldn't stand to see Merlin so down, especially on his account. At the inclination of his head, Merlin ducked down his own and strode quickly to the door, transferring his hands to his front to keep them hidden, saying "Let me know when you want to get dressed," as he went. When he got a hand on the handle he turned back, offering Arthur a weak smile.
"Happy birthday, Arthur," Merlin said, and in the next moment he was gone.
Arthur fell back on his pillow, and used the other to cover his face. He felt that maybe, if he pressed down hard enough, he could just cease to exist, and not have to worry about putting on a happy face for the benefit of the castle today. Not have to worry about anything else ever again. When he built up the courage to get up, the pillow was wet, and his food was cold.
Just a normal birthday.
.
.
.
Merlin was quiet for the rest of the day. Any other time, Arthur would have been thankful for the silence, but right now, he longed for the sound of Merlin's voice. It would take his mind off of what day it was, what this day meant, and it would comfort him. But Merlin had slipped into his 'I'm a good servant who does what needs to be done and nothing more' mode, and it had always been difficult to get him out of that state of being, and today was no different.
When Arthur walked through the halls of the castle, with Merlin three steps behind him, instead of at his side, the servants were bustling around, trying to prepare for the feast that night. He wished he could make them all stop, hold their shoulders and tell them to go home, to enjoy their families, as a way to try to make up in as little a way he could for what the day of his birth truly meant, but he knew that that was no princely way to act. He should be appreciative of the festivities, excited for them, even, not dreading them. He wished that birthdays worked in reverse, where he could be the one giving gifts and paying attention to everyone else, no one paying attention to him, instead of feeling like he was under one of Gaius's magnifying glasses.
At some point in the day he crossed paths with Morgana, who only gave him a long, knowing look before she retreated down the hall, Gwen trailing behind her. She had been around for enough of Arthur's birthdays to know not to try to wish him a happy day. If Merlin thought this odd, he remained silent.
Uther offered his son good wishes, but remained in a shell of dark gloominess for a majority of the day. Arthur knew from experience that as soon as the festivities that night began that he would be nothing but cheerful. His father had always been good at putting on a mask before his subjects. Years of experience, Arthur supposed. He had had the same amount of years to learn to act happy on this one day a year, but he supposed that the fact that he was half the age of his father meant that he didn't hold the wisdom to practice casting a bright facade over his face.
Arthur tried to view the banquet as any other feast, just to be merry with his knights. He tried to forget that the festivities were in honor of him, in honor of his being brought into the world. He tried to forget that the families in Camelot were celebrating this day as a holiday, drinking and dancing at his expense. But most of all, he tried to forget the families who were crying, mourning this day.
He used anything as a distraction. The laughter of his knights appeared to do nothing for him, so he used other things to keep himself occupied: the drink, the rising of the moon which was visible through the tall windows, the minute details of things around him. In his close observances, trying to find something about the hall that he had never noticed before, he didn't find much, he played that game too often not to know a majority of the details of the hall well enough to be able to draw it blindfolded. He did notice, however, that Merlin was not wearing his neckerchief. He looked naked without it. Arthur wondered if his servant hadn't been wearing all day, and he was just now noticing.
The nobility began to retire at the early hours of the morning. Arthur wanted nothing more than to retire himself, but he was the man they were honoring, so it wasn't until the last of the guests left that Uther gripped his son by the shoulder, his eyes lined thinly with unshed tears, and he left as well. It was then that Arthur was at last able to give Merlin a nod and stride from the dining hall, his servant close behind him. Constant.
Arthur readied for bed with Merlin's help in silence. He bid his servant goodnight, and stood with his shoulder leaned against the bedpost. His refined muscles tightened, a barricade against his closely contained emotions. When he heard the door open, he allowed himself to let a single tear drop. When he heard the door close, two more followed suit. He leaned his head against the post as well, trying to find some source of comfort from the wood. His arms folded across his chest, as if to keep his throbbing heart inside it. The suppressed pants and gasps of his tears echoed off of his chamber's walls.
"Arthur?"
Arthur looked over his shoulder, then swiped his hands angrily over his eyes. "Dammit, Merlin. I thought you'd left."
Merlin's eyes had become round, blue orbs, confusion making his brows contort to make his forehead wrinkle with worry.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Merlin, why wont you leave me be?" Arthur snapped. He tried to stop his tears, but after another year of keeping them locked in, it was too hard to turn it off. Merlin crossed to Arthur's front. His eyes searched his prince's face, as if the answer to his suffering was there.
"Because I'm your friend," Merlin whispered, the tone of his voice as soft as he could make it. "Friends don't walk away."
Arthur looked up at his servant—no, his friend—with red-rimmed eyes. "But I don't want you to see me like this."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm supposed to be the strong one," Arthur answered. Had it been any other day, there would be a voice in his head saying 'And now's the time for you to shut up,' but it seemed like the locks he had inside him had broken, and everything was flooding from the dark rooms he always kept so closely guarded. "I'm supposed to be strong and brave. I'm supposed to be immovable. I'm supposed to be the one looking after you, not the other way around."
Merlin blinked, and Arthur realized his error. His speech up until the last sentence could have just been general statements, but now it was specific to Merlin.
"Whoever said that?" Merlin asked, shaking his head. "I thought that I was your servant."
"I don't know!" Arthur said, exasperated. "I'm supposed to be strong for you." Because that's what older brothers are supposed to be. Thank God he had managed to keep that in his mouth. "Now you've seen me like this and… Well, now I'm weak."
It was silent for a moment before Merlin spoke. "Some times… It takes a truly brave man to be able to cry. Especially in front of his—" his little brother. "—his servant."
"Or a cowardly one," Arthur grumbled, sniffing and looking down.
Merlin shrugged. "Then call us cowards. But at least we have each other. Even the bravest of men are still incomplete without someone to stand beside them."
"Riding out another wave of wisdom, Merlin?"
"You could say that," Merlin answered. Arthur looked up again and caught a fleeting glance of a smile on Merlin's face before it flew away. "What's wrong, Arthur? It's your birthday… You should be happy."
Arthur took a deep breath. "It's nothing, Merlin."
"Oh, yeah. You're crying because nothing."
"Do you know how infuriating you can be?"
"I'm just getting warmed up."
Merlin waited, and it looked like he would wait for kingdom come before he'd let Arthur off without answering him. So, with a shaky breath, Arthur unsteadily began, his voice sounding like a stumbling toddler taking its first steps.
"My birth has brought nothing but grief and hardships," Arthur stated. Merlin looked like he was about to argue, but Arthur held up his hand. "Think about it, Merlin. My mother died giving birth to me. And this year I found out that it was because my father used magic—come on, I'm not an idiot, Merlin, I know what Morgause showed me was true. You're a very convincing liar, though, which is slightly concerning. You could probably be practicing magic right under my nose and I wouldn't even know." Arthur let out his breath, trying to ignore the slight flinch that crinkled Merlin's features for a moment. "Anyway… I've put the pieces together. My father launched the war against magic because it was magic that claimed my mother's life. My birth didn't just cause my mother's death, it caused the death of thousands of men, women, children—"
"That wasn't your fault," Merlin argued. "That was your father…"
"Name one good thing that happened as a result of my birth."
"You're here."
"Oh, yeah, and I'm such a blessing. What have I done for the world in recompense for the lives lost because of my birth?"
"You are going to be a fair and just king, Arthur Pendragon. I don't know how many times I need to say it before you get it through that thick head of yours."
"So the people get to live under another tyranny."
"Just rule," Merlin corrected.
Arthur shook his head, looking down from Merlin's honest eyes. They were much too honest and trusting to bear. What if Arthur didn't turn out to be the great ruler Merlin believed he would be? What if he turned out to be just as terrible as his father? He couldn't bear the thought of letting such a hopeful heart as Merlin's down. Especially Merlin's.
"...I know you probably don't consider this to be a 'good' thing…" Merlin said after a while, shifting on his feet. Arthur looked up, and Merlin looked down. He seemed to be uncomfortable in his own skin. "But if you hadn't been born… I wouldn't have been, either."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're not going to launch into your 'it's my destiny to protect you, Arthur' speech again are you?"
Merlin flicked him on the forehead.
"Ow!" Arthur exclaimed, glaring at Merlin.
"Listen to me, you prat!" Merlin said, now staring straight into Arthur's eyes. "As a result of your father's ban against magic, my father had to flee to the outskirts of Camelot. He came to seek refuge in a village called Ealdor. He met my mother there." Merlin paused, allowing Arthur time to let it sink in. "If you hadn't been born, if your father hadn't banned magic, I wouldn't be here."
Arthur stared at Merlin. At first he was going to argue, then he realized it had to be true. He tried to imagine a world without Merlin, and it looked bleak. 'Bleak,' in all reality, was a massive understatement. Arthur realized, with a sharp jolt in his abdomen, that if Merlin's birth was the only contribution his existence had or ever would contribute, then he had given the Earth a treasure beyond any comparison.
A part of him wanted to say this, but all that came out was "Your father was a sorcerer?"
Merlin opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut with a shake of his head.
"I thought you said you never knew your father."
"I didn't, but now I do—did… I met him for… just a short while before he died but that's not the point!" Merlin huffed. "The point is… Some good things did happen as a result of your birth, Arthur."
Arthur watched Merlin for just another moment, and decided to question him on his father later. Not that he'd care about what Merlin's father had been—Merlin wasn't his father—but he felt that perhaps Merlin had a few suppressed things of his own that needed to come out.
His hand drifted up, trailing through Merlin's raven-black hair. Merlin watched him intently, as if he could read all of Arthur's unuttered thoughts plain on his face. Arthur nodded. What he was accepting or confirming with the gesture, he wasn't sure, but it made Merlin smile. And that was enough for Arthur.
His hand disentangled itself from Merlin's hair, dropping down to his side. He watched Merlin's eyes flit only slightly downward, to another part of Arthur's face. His hand raised slightly, dropped, and raised again, wiping away a stray tear from Arthur's cheek, mumbling as awkwardly as his gesture had been, "There was a… You had a tear… I… Yeah."
Arthur laughed. A pure laugh, the kind he used to have when he was young, before he had any responsibilities to appear perfect. His eyes filled with joy as he watched Merlin, his little brother, his constant. His.
"Hey, where's your neckerchief?" he asked, noticing the nakedness of his neck again.
A light dusting of pink lighted on his cheekbones, and he got a nervous smile on his face. "Oh, no reason, it was nothing."
"Oh, yeah," he said, mimicking his servant. "You're blushing because nothing."
That made Merlin blush more. Which was—though Arthur resented even thinking it—adorable. "It was stupid," Merlin shook his head. "I just… No, it was stupid."
"No, tell me! Come on, Merlin!" he teased, poking Merlin in the side. Merlin was ticklish, a cute little trait he had found out about a little while ago. Merlin laughed, shaking his head.
"Hold on," he said, walking away from Arthur. He went out from Arthur's chambers, turning the corner and bending over, picking something up from the pot that rested there and raising it to his lips, blowing dust from it. He came back, looking down at the object in his hand. "I know, it's probably really stupid, but I didn't have a lot of money to get you anything like the nobility could, so I had to make it… You know what, forget it, it's dumb—"
Merlin had turned to walk back out, but Arthur was too fast for him. He snatched Merlin's wrist, slipping the object from his servant's palm. He held it up to the candlelight in order to see it properly. It was the same red as his knight's cloak, a circle of intricately woven fabric with a round piece of metal woven into the center. It was hammered metal, with a raised design of the Pendragon crest in the middle. Arthur was rendered speechless for a moment, especially when he realized that the fabric it had been so carefully woven into was the cloth of the neckerchief that had hung from Merlin's neck every day since he had first walked into Camelot. He looked up to Merlin, his eyes wide in surprise. Merlin was nervously rubbing the back of his neck, smiling uneasily, the red on his face increasing.
"I guess it's sort of from Gwen, too, she helped me with the crest… I got quite a few burns trying to make that thing," he said, and as he did, he hid his hands behind his back again, trying to hide the small wounds from Arthur's view. "You don't have to wear it if you think it's stupid. I know it's weird. Sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"No. I love it." Arthur said quickly, gripping the thick bracelet tighter. He slid it onto his left wrist, letting it rest there for a moment. It felt wonderful. It was light, but also bold. It was, truthfully, fantastic. He looked back up at Merlin, who was smiling a little bit easier now. "Thank you, Merlin."
Merlin nodded, the smile now honest. "Of course."
From that night on, Arthur never took the bracelet off. He had to buy Merlin another neckerchief, of course, it was just too weird to see him without one. The bracelet was a reassuring weight always beside him, always reminding him that there was a boy out there who he could truly call a friend, who he could fight for, who he could live for, who he could die for. Always there, a gentle symbol of friendship.
Constant.