The Contradiction of Men
Arthur/Merlin, Even in the future, the more things change, the more they stay the same. (PG)
A/N: Many thanks to oxoniensis for the Brit-pick and quick grammar check. Written for picfor1000
Standing on the highest battlement of the castle, Merlin raised his arms above his head. He didn't try to chant loudly or quietly; he'd learned many years ago that the purpose of incantation was merely to focus the mind. Instead, he let the words draw his energy in, let his will guide the power through him until he could channel it up into the sky. When it reached its zenith, as a bright pinprick in the sky, he released the power and let it spill over Camelot. A shining, golden curtain that shimmered in the sun.
The weight of the spell settled over his shoulders. He stretched his neck from side to side, but the strain was still noticeable.
"I'll never tire of seeing you do that," Arthur whispered in awe, approaching him from the side. His heavy crown glittered in the daylight. Adventure always made Arthur happy and now they were getting ready to embark on the greatest adventure yet, he was practically bouncing on his heels. He slapped Merlin on the shoulders.
"Oy. A little care there," Merlin said grumpily as Arthur almost knocked him over. "I've never tried a spell this large before. If you want me to carry it for the next year while we go gallivanting around in search of your mug, perhaps you should be nicer to me."
Arthur steadied Merlin with a hand on his elbow. "How do you feel?"
Merlin closed his eyes until he found it easier to breathe. "Like I've decided to lift an ox over my shoulders. I don't know why you won't let me stay here. I doubt I'll be able to cast any other spells while keeping this one afloat."
Merlin cracked an eye open to see if Arthur believed him. Merlin usually liked being a part of Arthur's adventures, but this one he wouldn't mind sitting out. Besides the fact they were going into a desert, the very notion of trying to help Arthur find a sacred goblet for the New Religion was a little obscene. The very religion that marked Merlin and all forms of magic as agents of the devil, no less.
"I need you with me, my friend. Besides, with your shield, Camelot will be safe enough," Arthur said chiding him.
True, Arthur had allowed some magic back into Camelot when he'd taken the throne, but he'd done so right along with Christianity. Trading Uther's scorn for that of his priests.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Eyeing the shield, Merlin's mouth twisted in irony. Arthur had agreed to this pilgrimage to appease the priests. Imagining the look on their faces when they saw his shield every day almost made it up to him.
"I don't know what you'd do without me," Merlin said, at least trying to milk the situation.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "More to the point, I don't know how I put up with you. But don't worry. I'm leaving Lancelot in charge of the defences. You know, in case you get distracted, walk into a tree and forget about the shield."
The smile that had started to creep across Merlin's face froze in place. If leaving Camelot exposed while they went on this adventure wasn't foolhardy enough—leaving Lancelot here was just madness.
Arthur ignored his expression and Merlin swallowed his words. Speaking about Gwen and Lancelot was grounds for banishment, as Morgana had found out. She had begged Arthur to remove Lancelot from the castle, to eliminate the temptation and resolve the situation she foresaw coming to pass, but Arthur had refused to hear it. And when she kept insisting, he'd ordered her out of Camelot.
Merlin could make no sense out of it. It wasn't as if Arthur were blind; Merlin had spent too long studying the lines and tension in Arthur's body to believe that. Every day Arthur was at court, watching Gwen and Lancelot dance around each other, his eyes became a little sadder, his smile a little more forced. Merlin couldn't begin to fathom why Arthur would chose to leave Lancelot here now, in the position of his most trustworthy knight.
It was as if Arthur went around his kingdom collecting up contradictions like lost children, just so he could hold them tight against his chest.
Arthur laid his hands on Merlin's shoulders and rubbed hard. Merlin grimaced. "That's not relaxing," he ground out. Neck massages weren't meant to be given while wearing gauntlets.
Arthur stopped and rested his arm on Merlin's shoulder. "I can make it up to you later then."
Looking away, Merlin accepted his own part in the contradiction—the reward Arthur was giving him. It had been too long since he'd shared Arthur's bed. It was a dangerous indulgence, but for the chance to ease the pain in Arthur's eyes, Merlin would take it. Even if it made him no better than Lancelot.
Turning back, Merlin brought his hand up to Arthur's face, touching his lips with his fingers. Arthur shuddered at the touch, smiled and then took a step back. Inclining his head towards the stairs, he said, "If you're done loitering, Merlin, the horses are packed and ready to go. And why are we carting five trunks of lemons? Are you planning to open a market stand?"
It was Merlin's time to roll his eyes. "For that, I should let you all die of scurvy."
Arthur crinkled his nose and pouted. "I hate lemons," he whispered finally in a conspiring tone. "They hurt my stomach. Can't you turn them into something else? For me?"
With a sigh, Merlin summoned a lemon. It flew up from the courtyard below, landing in his hand. With a word and blink, the lemon shimmered and changed into an orange. He threw it to Arthur who caught it one-handed.
Arthur studied the orange and then glanced at him. "You make the impossible possible, Merlin."
Merlin bit his lip. For Arthur, he would continue do so as long as possible.