Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine. It's owned by BBC. The title is derived from Imagine Dragons' "All Eyes."
Summary: The three instances in which Merlin's soul burns in his eyes.
They Burn So Bright
Part One
Arthur awoke lazily, as he always did when Merlin didn't throw the curtains wide and proclaim it time for Arthur to 'rise and shine.' The covers wrapped warmly around him, and for a moment, he considered just snuggling back down and letting the morning whittle itself away. But while his usual bed partner might do just that, he was king, and he couldn't afford to be so lazy. Trying not to grumble like a petulant child, he stretched until his spine curved, then let his hand fall across the bed.
The empty bed.
His eyes snapped open, but he relaxed almost immediately. Of course Merlin had gotten up and let Arthur sleep in, as usual. He watched as Merlin carefully poured another bucket of water into his bath, even though the idiot could have just filled it with less than a flick of his fingers. But of course Merlin was cautious, even now, and the fool put the bucket down and dipped one hand into the water. Merlin frowned, clearly no impressed with the warmth. Not like the man could possibly have managed to keep it warm as he raced up and down the stairs. It usually took several servants to make certain such a thing happened.
But Merlin didn't need that, and he wouldn't let anyone into Arthur's rooms while he slept. That was also part of who he was. So it came as no surprise when he leaned slightly over the bath water and said, with little more than a whisper, "Onhaetan þé waeter." And his eyes flashed liquid gold. After all this time, he no longer reacted with a warring mix of fear and desire. Now there was no confusion within him.
And in just one moment, steam slowly rose from the water.
Merlin turned, possibly to go to those blasted curtains, maybe to go get Arthur's breakfast. But he caught Arthur looking and stopped. For an instant, those blue eyes blinked, fawnlike, at him. And then he grinned. "Good morning, Arthur."
The man could make those words sound like a homecoming. Arthur sent his own smile back at him. "You're up early. Anything I need to be worried about?"
Merlin frowned nearly into a scowl. "That was only the once."
"And yet that's about how often I see you awake before me." In fact, waking up to find Merlin fighting off an assassin in his rooms had been terrifying. Arthur even had nightmares about it, about sleeping through Merlin's death right beside him. Of what might have happened if Merlin wasn't paranoid enough to put wards around them to ensure no one caught them together, simply because Arthur, back then, had felt it too early for his people to learn just who he intended to be with. Of Merlin being killed simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time – by Arthur's side. Of course, now Merlin always warded their damn bed, even though his people knew. He couldn't even argue about it.
"I'm always awake before you," Merlin said, and moved right over to the curtains to pull them open, as if to prove his point.
"I usually wake up in time to watch you snuffle in your sleep." Arthur grinned at the affronted look on Merlin's face.
"I do not snuffle!"
Finally he rolled his eyes and sat up in his bed. The covers fell away from his chest to pool around his lap. He caught Merlin's gaze as it darted down despite himself, his pupils dilating slightly. Arthur's grin turned a bit more devious. "Of course you do, Merlin. You did it just the other night."
Merlin wrinkled his nose and lifted his chin. "I did not."
For once, Arthur wasn't just pulling Merlin's leg. He really did snuffle. Like a baby bear. And it was adorable. Which was not a word a king of Camelot would ever, ever say. So instead he merely stood and stretched again. His pants rode low on his hips, and when he stopped, he caught Merlin looking again. It served Merlin right, not even waking him up for a kiss. Merlin could suffer with his morning wood. "Do you have my clothes ready?"
Merlin nodded, his eyes a bit too glazed. Arthur would bet Merlin hadn't heard a word he'd said, but as always, the man managed to surprise him, gesturing stupidly toward the screen. A pair of pants and his red shirt lay across the top. Arthur looked at the red shirt and smirked. So Merlin had been thinking along the same lines as Arthur when he'd awoken, then. It was a poorly-disguised secret that Merlin very much liked how Arthur looked in that shirt.
Which begged the question as to why Merlin hadn't woken him up for anything. He sent Merlin a look, his eyebrow climbing as he went to the bath. Only because, if he stayed out, he just might be late for practice with his knights. Like hell he was going to get a new notch in his belt.
"So? What got you up, if it wasn't... anything important?" He shucked off his breeches and dipped himself into the bath. Of course it was the perfect temperature. It was too bad he couldn't stay and soak.
He was certain Merlin had heard his verbal stumble, but he didn't say anything. He'd underestimated, years before, Merlin's ability to be quiet about the things that truly mattered. And so he was unsurprised when Merlin didn't even hesitate, but merely said, "I'm nervous about today."
And of course he was. Even as Arthur scoffed out loud, he understood. While Arthur felt the butterflies that meant he was facing a battle he had to win, Merlin must have been feeling something much worse. "I handled the outing of our relationship just fine. This will be no different."
Of course Merlin snorted as if Arthur had made some sort of joke. "'Handled?' You just threw it out in the middle of council and told your members to deal with it!"
"And it went perfectly," he said, taking the roll of soap from Merlin's hand and quickly working it over his skin. He cast a look over his shoulder to find Merlin's gaze flickering down into the water, toward the line of his chest, then further. His grin widened.
Merlin pretended to clean while Arthur continued to clean himself, then stopped and returned to him when he dipped his head under the water, wetting his hair. Those long, slim fingers sifted into his hair, deftly calling the soap from the edge of the tub without touching the thing. Arthur sighed at the move, but didn't argue. Likely Merlin had once again failed to even notice. And then the soap was being laced into his hair, and he just enjoyed the touch.
Of course, he ended up cutting it short, though it made both himself and Merlin frown. This day, more than others, he needed to make sure he did everything as he should, and not later. Merlin didn't argue. As usual, when it came to Arthur's decisions, his edicts as king, Merlin may complain, but he never argued. He sent Merlin a look to make sure the man was all right before he continued behind the screen to get dressed. He heard Merlin move around some more and wondered if he was just going to make the water disappear like he had a few mornings before. He peeked out, surprised to see Merlin heading, not toward the tub, but instead toward the hearth. The fire had fallen to embers over the night, and the coolness in the room could certainly be felt now that Arthur was still slightly wet from the bath. So of course Merlin would head over to warm the room.
Arthur eased out from behind the screen and watched as Merlin knelt before the ashes of the fireplace. The logs from the night before were still black by the night before, and Merlin moved for a moment to grab one – just one – off the small pile beside the hearth. After putting the thing on the ash from the night before – lazy idiot – he lifted his chin and whispered something. By now, Arthur knew enough to know the word: bryne.
And once again, with the windows open this time, heedless of anyone who might come waltzing in through the door, those eyes flashed golden. The light seemed to be what made sparked the fire in the grate and not the magic that almost swirled around Merlin. It made him look more than just the bumbling manservant tripping over his own shoes. His thin face, large, wide eyes – even the giant ears – it all turned lithe. Fae. He looked like some mythical creature. He belonged in the forest, or a flowering meadow, some creature – and here he thought of the unicorn and its ethereal beauty – standing beside him.
It was too girly a thought to ever be spoken, but he contented himself with walking up to Merlin, interrupting the man's wide-eyed stare to pull his face up and kiss those fae lips. If no other creature was available, then the nuzzling of a king would have to suffice.