"Your life is based on pleasing old ladies, Arthur" Merlin deadpanned. No, he wasn't completely expressionless. His lips were pursed into a worried line on his face, and then that judging but still forgiving look in his eyes Merlin always wore whenever he was offering Arthur advice. Advice he knew Arthur didn't like. Not expressed like that, Christ, it made him sound like some kind of boy-toy with a thing for old… respectable, ladies.
"Merlin" Arthur shook his head and blinked, wishing Merlin hadn't put it like that, wishing he'd never gotten those images in his head. No, not okay, not respectable. "What if it is? Is it really that bad?"
"It is" he sighed, "for me it is." Merlin looked sad now, and his mouth formed into an unintended pout, and Arthur guessed Merlin might be biting the inside of his mouth nervously. Bad habit, Arthur thought.
"I can't help it – It is what I was born to do" Arthur sighed at the thought of this great burden, looking down at the empty ashtray between them. They were at a quite common, quite shady café that Merlin had picked without thinking. Arthur was wearing both a NIKE-cap and a pair of dark pilot-shades. He looked ridiculous.
"Can't we go somewhere else? I want to be able to see your eyes" Merlin said quietly, his fingers creeping over the table but stopping before they reached Arthur's.
Now it was Arthur's lips that formed into that hopeless line. "No, no one can hear us anyway, that's most important" he simply decided.
"Could always go to my place…" Merlin tried to seem indifferent, but it was clear that he was being shy. His eyes revealed him as he looked to the side and leaned his chin in his hand, thrumming his fingers against his cheek absently. A beautiful habit, Arthur thought.
"No, I don't want to" Arthur wasn't sure if he was lying or not anymore, and judging by that smile Merlin gave him, he certainly knew Arthur was lying.
He was Prince Arthur, of the still late monarchy - Sweden. He had little influence on anything, really, except the life of old ladies who read those magazines about royalty. At least that was how Arthur viewed it after listening to Merlin.
They had met in the palace, as master and servant, but even under such harsh circumstances their friendship grew like weeds in summer - playful, beautiful but hated by a large part of the Swedish population, at least when it developed into something more than friendship. It wasn't that Swedes were particularly homophobic – no, they proudly claimed to be the most accepting country in the world. But Arthur was sure that the idealistic asshole who'd said that hadn't counted with the old ladies that owned Arthur's life. Okay, so perhaps he'd been a little too hard on the kind ladies - many men and children would find a homosexual prince quite offending as well. Because they owned Arthur, like he was a member of each and every family who gave a shit about the royal household. He was supposed to represent them, to be godly, kindness and greatness personified into one smiling, blond prat. At least that's what Merlin would say, Arthur thought and smiled.
"I have a tough destiny, Merlin… what can I say" Arthur said after a while, hopelessly stirring his now cold cup of tea.
"It's not your destiny, I know" Merlin said seriously, his blue eyes fixed on Arthur's.
"Oh, so what is it then?" Arthur asked with an uninterested voice, expecting yet another one of Merlin's ill-timed jokes.
"Us" Merlin smiled sadly at him.
Arthur had to look away, it hurt too much. "I want to leave" he mumbled, and Merlin nodded, and they left quietly.
Arthur followed Merlin without any objections, even if he knew where he was leading him. He hadn't been there too many times - in Merlin's lonely flat, but it was the only place Arthur whole-heartedly thought of as home, somewhere he could always go without any fuss.
Merlin closed the door behind them and gently removed Arthur's disguise, letting his cap and shades fall onto the carpet. He cupped his face, kissing the red mark the glasses had left on Arthur's nose with all the love and care in the world. Arthur wrapped himself around him, sighing into the crook of Merlin's pale neck as they stood there in the still hallway. Merlin whispered his love into Arthur's ear, and he was soon lost to him, splayed on his bed, flush and breathless. Some spots on Merlin's neck were still glistening discretely after Arthur had spent what seemed like all afternoon kissing it, listening to Merlin, having lost all words himself.
"I should leave…" Arthur murmured when they were still lying in bed, emotionless words that had to be said, because he was Prince Arthur and had to return his life to those who owned it.
"No, stay…" Merlin yawned, tiredly l etting his hand rest on Arthur's chest, as if it would stop him from leaving. "Let me… just for now" he whispered.
Arthur smiled, he knew what he meant, and he let Merlin keep him to himself until the sun set and the night came.
Merlin and Arthur had always been a thing. First they'd hated each other, but then Arthur had realised Merlin was the only one who ever spoke to him as he pleased, and soon his words had started to please Arthur as well, sometimes turning into those whispers of love that made Arthur forget he was Prince of anything. Their feelings grew faster than they could notice, but their actions remained rather non-existent until Merlin came into Arthur's bedroom one night, kissed his cheek and then left like an idiot. Arthur had lain there, feeling awkward and confused, but not able to stop dreaming about what else he would want Merlin to do with those lips.
Next morning he confronted him, and Merlin had grinned childishly and teased Arthur. Something Merlin always did – he transmitted his own embarrassment onto Arthur, and then he was the one feeling like an idiot. It usually ended up with Arthur chasing Merlin, shouting threats at him, and being absolutely not respectable. They laughed, and everyone around would sigh say "Well that's just Merlin and Arthur".
This morning their little unit was eating breakfast together, in the palace of course, since it wouldn't be respectable for Arthur to stay at Merlin's flat.
"How do you live, Arthur?" Merlin asked as he was literally breathing cereals. Okay, maybe not but pretty close.
"In a palace, it's nice" Arthur countered.
"No, I'll tell you." Merlin finally swallowed and stopped breathing cereals. "Tax, which I gladly pay for society, is used on maintaining your life in luxury - I actually provide for you. So you should give me your toast, I'm the one paying all this." Merlin reached out his hand, ready to snatch Arthur's beloved toast that he'd just spent all morning on covering in butter and cheese.
"You little communist" Arthur laughed, swatting Merlin's hand away.
"And you're a conservative aristocrat, who knows nothing about communism" Merlin grinned. "How do you live though?"
Arthur sighed, "Ignorance and denial" he answered, and Merlin knew he'd gone too far.
"It's not your fault…" Merlin started.
"No, but I can't do anything about it either. I told you they own me." Arthur was upset now, "If the people and government decide they don't want me anymore then I'm out of here. I won't die on the street of course, and I'd actually gladly leave. But I can't, I'm state property, like a damn library-toilet" Arthur spitted out, and Merlin couldn't help laughing at that horrible metaphor, and Arthur wanted to strangle him.
"Then run away with me" Merlin grinned, half teasing him, half testing him.
"We can't" Arthur sighed. Merlin could never be nice during breakfast, never.
That was also the day the broke up. What defines a break up anyway? Officially they hadn't even started anything - perhaps Merlin and Arthur had never existed. It would be for the best anyway, Arthur thought, but soon regretted it. In Merlin's presence Arthur was Arthur and not the Prince. It had made him uncomfortable and nervous around Merlin at first, but soon they had both discovered that Merlin was the only one who could put Arthur at ease. That was one of the things he loved about spending time with Merlin, though it wasn't the reason he loved him.
"Maybe you just don't love me enough" Merlin had said out of nowhere. But Arthur knew it was because of what he'd said this morning.
"No, I just can't run away with you. You know that" he replied coldly. He was sitting on his bed, back turned against Merlin, just about to remove his socks and go to bed.
"But you won't marry me either" Merlin sighed, and Arthur heard the creak from behind him as Merlin got onto the bed, leaning his head against Arthur's shoulder.
"Are you asking?" Arthur grinned, and he could feel Merlin smile against his back, muffling a quiet chuckle.
"You wish…" he said, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist.
"I do" Arthur whispered, shocking himself. And Merlin went quiet, frozen like stone, and Arthur was horrified. Why had he said that? He can't marry Merlin - they both knew it was even more insane than running away.
"Let me ask you," Merlin said softly, breaking the silence as Arthur held his breath, "would my Arthur want that?"
"If I were yours… but I'm not" he replied sadly.
That's when Merlin grabbed Arthur's shoulders and pinned him onto the bed, his grip almost painful. Merlin was angry and his eyes were stormy and bluer than Arthur had ever witnessed in any light before. He towered himself over Arthur, possessive but weak, his eyes revealing his inner turmoil. He forced his hand between Arthur's thighs and kissed him, biting his lower lip and mumbling "Mine" repeatedly, breath sharp and desperate against Arthur's lips - as if he could prove to Arthur that he belonged to him, as if he could take his title away by using force.
"Merlin…" Arthur pleaded quietly, closing his eyes, "not like this… not like this" he whispered. And Merlin stopped. He was shaking, and Arthur tried to wrap his arms around him but then Merlin got up, leaving Arthur alone on the bed. He was red-eyed, clenching his jaw, and it was he who left Arthur.
Merlin was still working for the royal family, for Arthur, and it made everything feel more absurd and unreal. He was acting like the other staff, like furniture, service-minded, professional and without personality. Everything Merlin was not. Arthur saw him walking around in the palace, passing him in corridors, but never reaching out to him, never saying anything more than necessary. No ill-timed jokes, no cheeky comments, no teasing, no Merlin, and as a result to that – no Arthur.
Why do you have to make choices in life? He was a good diplomat, and had been taught for many years how to compromise and find a solution that avoided conflict, avoided making hard decisions and sacrifices. He hadn't been taught what was right and what was wrong, how could he possibly know?
It was the night of Arthur's birthday, which had during the day been celebrated and broadcasted on TV. He had smiled, been polite and talked to children, held a speech and everything had gone according to plan. It hadn't felt hard, he'd practiced for a long time and mostly it had just felt like putting up a theater. However, it was now evening passing to night-time, and people were chatting rather tiredly at the pompous banquette that was being held in his honour. Arthur had spotted Merlin a while ago, serving another table, looking busy and handsome in his formal clothes. Merlin wasn't like the rest, he wasn't like anyone else in this room - even if he pretended and tried very hard to be. Arthur followed him with his gaze, waiting for the right moment to talk to him. But it never came. Instead Merlin would find a note, or a very small letter, lying on the hallway floor in his flat much later that night.
I've been thinking the whole day and night, about right and wrong, and I've learnt something that I need to confess, something you once told me.
I love you because it is my destiny.