Silver crown
We dream of the crowns we could wear
To achieve our dreams, the king´s worthy gear
And many of those achieve we do
But from silver the crown is made for you
Because our dreams they crash with those of others`
And they blend and get scratched by our brothers
-m-
"I hope you like it. Of course I couldn't make it as big as mine is- there would be an uproar - but I´m sure you understand that." Said Arthur smiling happily.
Merlin watched the box he was offered.
"What is it?" he asked, took the box and set it down on the nearby table.
"It´s a crown."
Merlin´s head snapped to face Arthur but his hands still rested on the box.
"A what?" whispered Merlin.
Arthur grinned in clear delight. The King had overcome any embarrassment over such things as shoving gratitude years ago. Merlin should know - he had been The King´s adviser already twice the time he had been the man´s servant.
"A crown, Merlin. I am aware that you do not fancy all the finery that comes with your position but the court deserves to see where you stand - mainly, above them. I hope you will wear it on the banquet in the evening."
Arthur watched his friend´s shocked expression for a while clearly pleased with the reaction he got on the surface.
"I have to go find Sir Leon now. See you later." Said the King after which he turned on his heels and left the room all the while smiling over his accomplished mission.
Merlin blinked at the now closed door and turned his attention at the box. He could hardly believe it - Arthur had got him a crown. Such a token would indeed speak volumes to anyone seeing it - Merlin included.
With faintly shaking hands Merlin opened the box. He even held his breath - only to freeze in his motions and get his breath catching in his throat anyway.
The crown was beautiful. It resembled everything they had built between the two of them over the years - the regard Arthur held for him, the trust, the value, the friendship.
Everything Merlin had ever wanted was to be seen as an equal - only he had never felt as inferior as he was feeling now in front of this great gift - not even during his years as a servant when the gap in rank between them had been so painfully obvious.
It was petty, it was awfully selfish. Merlin took a step away from the crown without ever touching the piece of art. He raised his face towards the ceiling, closed his eyes and for this fleeting moment let his expression crumble.
It was so great and it was so them. He had got so much and he felt so selfish.
But the crown was made of silver.
Merlin´s wish had come true - and yet not, in this twisted world where our dreams mix with those of others´ being, in the end, everything and nothing you wanted.
-m-
No gold will glitter on your hair
But with pride you can the crown of silver wear
So raise your chin, do you hear
You got what you wished now you rehear
-m-
By strings of gold from our crowns
The silver we gather from our playgrounds
World is a puppeteer with pride take the throne
You are worthy of the silver crown
I would really appreciate comments. What thoughts it raised in you? Was my attempt at poetry fitting as a part of this fic?
Yes, the fic itself can be found in my oneshot collection "The Games" but there it holds no poetry and is named The game of your offerings.
I hope you are having a good day!
PS; I´m sorry for the lonely "-m-" signs. For some reason it was the only way to get the site to let me leave spaces between the paragraphs.