Just one more moment
That's all that's needed
Like wounded soldiers
In need of healing
They stood, side-by-side, perhaps a little closer than propriety dictated, and looked out over the field of battle. Survivors moved through the haze, as wraiths balancing on a line between the living and the dead. Not far from where the King and his manservant stood, the Pendragon banner flapped on the bloody breeze, moving like Death's sigh across the field.
"We need to move" said Arthur then, his voice choked and rough from shouting. Merlin glanced sideways at him. There were tears nobody would ever hear the King shed streaking through the grit and ash that darkened his golden features.
"Just one more moment, sire. Take a deep breath" Merlin said, softly, looking away to give him this time. Arthur, unthinkingly, drew in a long, burning inhalation of smoke and blood and hot steel. The rush of air into his lungs, as rancid as it was, was just enough. He looked at Merlin and Merlin looked back, his dark blue eyes bloodshot and dark with anger and emotion. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder and almost smiled. He wanted to say something; there was so much he needed to say to this young man, who had been with him, who had stood by his side, who had kept him sane in his own idiotic way. Merlin watched his King, his friend, his….his Arthur, struggling to find the words and shook his head.
"Go to them, Arthur. They need you"
More than me, he added silently in his head as Arthur removed his hand and nodded crisply. With a slight limp that Merlin noted sharply, he walked down the rise to greet his tired and wounded men. With a few words, a nod, a simple touch, he walked through the depleted ranks and healed in ways the scurrying physicians could never dream of.
Time to be honest
This time I'm pleading
Please don't dwell on it
Coz I didn't mean it
"Get out Merlin! Get out and stay out! Stay out of my damn sight!" Arthur roared, grabbing Merlin by the scruff of the shirt and throwing him from his chambers. Merlin tripped, as he was prone to do, and slammed to the unforgiving stone floor hard. With his hands caught up, he had no protection as the side of his head slammed to the ground. The skin split and a hot rush of blood followed. Pushing himself onto his hands and knees as the door slammed behind him, he pressed his hand to the cut and stared blankly at the blood smearing his palm.
Gaius was wide-eyed when Merlin stumbled into the room with his neckerchief pressed to the blood rushing from his temple. When the crimson stain was cleaned away, the wound itself wasn't too bad, but the principal of the situation made the old man's blood boil.
"Some King he is! Bloodying his manservant! And you! Why, if that little toad had any idea what people like you have sacrificed for him! What you have sacrificed for him!-"
"Gaius, for God's sake! It's a scratch! Don't get so overdramatic!" Merlin laughed it off.
The next morning he found another manservant for Arthur and set about doing chores for Gaius, cleaning out Arthur's stables and attending to his tack. He figured that as long as the prat didn't see him, he was technically still working for him.
When night arrived, there was a knock at the door as Merlin was clearing the dishes from dinner. Gaius stood and went to it. A moment later, the young warlock heard an intense discussion and his mentor sounded utterly ropable. Whoever it was arguing with him was risking the wrath of a very dangerous man. Merlin turned to save the unsuspecting stranger from the old man and then froze.
The King of Camelot stepped past the court physician and crossed his arms, narrowing his blue, blue eyes at Merlin.
"Where the hell were you today?" he demanded. Merlin, hands behind his back like a model subject, raised an eyebrow in a way that made Gaius nearly explode with pride.
"You made it clear that I was not to return to your chambers, sire. I trust you were well attended-"
"I was attended, but not by you. I have said this time and time again, Merlin that for all your obvious faults and disrespectful idiocy, I have become accustomed your foolish ways" Arthur snapped. Merlin said nothing, just continued to stare at him and Arthur glared right back. Gaius slipped out the door as the heat in the room began to rise, hoping they wouldn't break anything, or each other, in his absence. Arthur broke the staring contest to glance backwards at the door and when he turned again, Merlin was standing very close to him. He hadn't heard the other man move, but he'd crossed six or seven feet in a heartbeat to stand before him, reading his expression like a book. Arthur swallowed.
"I didn't mean it" he said finally.
It wasn't much of an apology, but it was enough for Merlin.
I can't believe I said I'd lay our love on the ground
But it doesn't matter coz I made it up
Forgive me now.
Every day I spend away my soul's inside-out
Gotta be some way I can make it up to you now
Somehow…
Merlin remembered when Uther discovered his only son and heir pressing the lean, pale manservant against a dark wall, illuminated only by a single torch. There had been Arthur; still smelling of sweat and fire and blood of their most recent skirmish, and then there had been anger, rage, fury, blazing hatred and pain.
He'd given up. He'd given up on them. The realisation, the words transforming into blades and cutting on Merlin's heart over and over, had pained him long after Arthur had left with Uther.
He should have known better.
The first letter arrived in Ealdor before Merlin did. Arthur's words on the parchment, secret, forbidden, delicious, had ignited a fire in Emrys that nothing and nobody would ever be able to extinguish.
Arthur watched the messenger hawk becoming nothing more than an insubstantial dot in the endless blue sky and felt his heart tear from behind his chainmail to fly with it, carried in a roll of parchment. Gwen, beautiful, sweet Gwen, appeared beside him, and smiled encouragingly.
"How is he?" she asked. Arthur shrugged.
"As well as can be" he said, looking longingly after the bird. Neither of them quite knew how they were going to be together again. Merlin feared Morgana and Arthur feared anything that would make Merlin fear at all. A dark storm was gathering around Camelot. The day Merlin awoke with the feeling deep in his chest that something terrible was about to happen he borrowed a horse and rode as fast as the sway-backed brood mare could carry him back to Camelot.
So it was that midst the pain of Morgana's betrayal, Merlin's agony that he had to continue keeping this secret, his secret, from the man he loved more than life itself, there was a joyous reunion behind locked doors.
"I'm sorry, Merlin. God, help me, I am so sorry" Arthur whispered into the pale column of his neck, marred with their passion. Merlin stroked his hair and smiled against his kiss as the King's lips found his in the dark.
"Don't be. Don't ever be sorry" he murmured.
By now you know that
I'd come for you
No one, but you
Yes I'd come, for you
But only if you told me to
I'd fight for you
I'd lie, its true
Give my life for you,
You know I'll always come for you.
"Don't be stupid, Arthur. How many times before this have I come for you? Now get up. We need to move" Merlin dismissed Arthur's dazed, pained words of gratitude, eyes on the unconscious enemy mercenaries that had thought a Knight of Camelot would be a decent prize, never realising that the 'Knight' was the King himself. Queen Guinevere had been very wise indeed to send a small, trusted party from the Round Table in pursuit of the King and spread the word that His Majesty was suffering from a fever.
As Arthur staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on his lover, images flashed before his eyes; of the shining blue orb guiding him through caverns and dangers to the golden flower holding his friend's life in its delicate yellow beauty. Of dragons and swords and strange coincidences that Arthur always attributed to having Merlin there; his lucky charm. There was the look on Merlin's face before he turned and ran from the wrath of Uther Pendragon and his mad vengeful quest against magic. When Arthur awoke, Gawain's voice was rousing him and Merlin was hovering over the other Knight's shoulder, relieved to see him awake. He looked at the pale man and shared a smile; he'd lied for Merlin, he'd fought for Merlin, and he realised that Merlin would do the same from him. It was a powerful talisman to carry.
I was blindfolded
But now I'm seeing
My mind was closing
Now I'm believing
I finally know just what it means to let someone in
To see the side of me that no one does
Or ever will
So if you're ever lost and find yourself all alone
I'd search forever just to bring you home
Here and now, this I vow.
Arthur remembered when Merlin had been forced to reveal his magic before them. He remembered, later on in retrospect, that he had felt lust and pride when Merlin's eyes rushed over gold and the hag with claws in Gwen and Gawain had simply imploded. Merlin had though Arthur was still unconscious; the young King would never really forgive himself for the black fear that engulfed his incandescence when he turned and found the other man staring straight at him sword in hand and shock on his face. They'd fought. Of course they'd fought; that's what they did, because apart from Merlin only the Queen and the Knights dared to argue with the King. Arthur had been enraged and broken three chairs when he discovered that there were three Knights on the Round Table and himself that didn't know of Merlin's magic. His pride had been severely wounded when, between Gaius and Gwen, he learned of the hundreds of times that Merlin had saved his life, saved Camelot, defeated overwhelming odds, and then directed the glory to luck, chance and Arthur.
He'd taken Merlin and they'd ridden for a full three days and it had turned the tide upon magic in Camelot. Where Arthur had been hesitant, still fearful, still a product of his father's prejudices, Merlin was strong, confident, direct, wise well beyond his years.
From the day of their return onwards, they were King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot and Dragonlord Emyrs. Tales were sung of them and the legend was born; at least, one breed of the legend was born. There were no songs written of the night that Arthur took Merlin's hands and swore to him a vow of love and fidelity before the Round Table. There were stories whispered of Gwen's betrayal of the King, but nobody ever spoke of the King, his arm around his Dragonlord, as they waved to the old Queen and her lover, riding into a new life together.
No matter what gets in my way
As long as there's still life in me
No matter what, remember
You know I'll always come for you
Bloodied so badly he could barely see, Arthur burst through the doors and beheaded the Druid raising a hand to slay him. Curled in the corner, wounded and weak, Merlin raised his head and smiled at him through bloody teeth.
"Aren't we a sight?" he choked as Arthur collapsed, Excalibur clanging to the ground. He coughed out a laugh and gathered Merlin into his arms.
"I knew I'd find you" he whispered in Merlin's damp hair.
Yes I'd come for you
No one, but you
Yes, I'd come for you
But only if you told me to.
Arms and breath and skin and sweat and pleasure; they tangled and flew and hissed and whispered and sobbed with the beauty of it all. Bathed in moonlight, Merlin was silver skin and black hair, where Arthur was gold, all gold. Writhing together, the lines blurred; good, evil, pleasure, pain, beauty, fear, hatred, love, passion. Arthur was Merlin as his blonde hair turned silver in the reflections from the sheets and glimmering flight from the window and Merlin was Arthur as his eyes swirled gold and his cheeks flushed red.
"Come for me. Now" Arthur gasped against Merlin's neck.
"Only because you told…me…to!"
So they flew.