Freedom
*.*.*.*.*
Merlin didn't have much, had never had much, would never have much. He was a manservant, an assistant, a peasant—that was all he would ever be. He was the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth, sure, but no one could ever truly know about that, could they?
Because of his station in life, because of his job and status, he had so many restrictions by day. So many people telling him what he had to do and when and how to do it and how long to do it for and where to go and who to see and when to be back by—and he was okay with that. It was his station in life and he had come to accept it.
But then, at night, when he was allowed to sleep, to climb into his bed and drift off to sleep—when he was allowed to dream… Oh, it was the sweetest sort of freedom he would ever have!
In his dreams, he could be free to practice his magic in all the corners of the kingdom. He could talk freely about all he had done, all he had lost, all he was, all he loved, all he could do—and to Arthur, of all people. He could finally be himself with his other half, show him all that he was and all that he had at last.
In his dreams, he could be free to do all that he could not in life. And that was the most bittersweet of freedoms there ever was.
*.*.*.*.*