What He Needed To Hear
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Merlin could always somehow just seem to tell exactly what Arthur needed to hear. Could tell when he needed to hear that he had done a good job, that he had done everything that he could, that he had done the right thing both for the sake of his people and himself, that he was a good king, that his father would be proud of him, that his people were proud of him, that Merlin was proud of him...
Somehow, Merlin could always just seem to tell what Arthur needed to hear.
He could always just... seem to tell.
And really, truly, the fact that Merlin could look into Arthur's eyes after a particularly hard day—could almost seem to be looking into his very soul—and could see everything that he had been trying to hide from his people and every one around him, the fact that Merlin could see everything he was trying to hide and let his own gaze fall softly upon Arthur in response, reassuring and careful and soft as he said I love you for the first time in so many words just when Arthur feared he needed to hear them most...
It meant more than Arthur could ever convey with the easy—if desperate—way he drew Merlin to himself, kissing him with all the finality in the world, sure that, for once, he was the one saying exactly what Merlin needed to hear.
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