Title: The Way of Kings, Present and Future 1/1
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I disclaim. Merlin belongs to BBC/Shine.
Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for episodes 4.01 and 4.02 only.
Characters: Arthur, Merlin, talk of the knights (Arthur's POV)
Summary: This is an episodic tag (more of a filler) to ep. 4.02.
The Way of Kings
TTT
Year to year he was taught the way of nobility, the essential rules. You do not cry for the wounded or dead. You do not grieve the lost. You move on with honor.
And so now, even as his soul twisted, he kept it mostly in check.
Silently observing Lancelot covering the thin pale man with his rustic roughened blanket, that befitting a servant, the prince chilled at the frozen look upon his manservant's face. Years ago, it was, Merlin first came to Camelot. Even as he irked Arthur terribly he also made him wonder with the strong curiosity of a cat. Something about him.
Then it happened. Pulling him away from a flying dagger that had been directed straight at his heart, Merlin preserved the future king.
Merlin, who with his queer freakish right-at-the-moment abundance of strength, pulled him out of the way again just last night, this time instead of scattering away, permitting his body to line up with doom.
Merlin, silly idiot brave Merlin.
Frozen.
Merlin was propped up against the stone now. It was as if his muscles and bones had crumpled into liquid limpness. His expression, so lost in some kind of depthless hell, sent shivers down Arthur's spine, and filled his throat with dread. He truly hated seeing Merlin like this. Hung between the world of the living and the so pursuant dead. Tarnished with that…
Pale ghostly expression.
Arthur looked away. Another lesson he was taught was that kings and nobility do not shudder. They do not vibrate into trembles of sympathy and agony.
And so Arthur, battle bred, harshly fought the threatening fear.
By royal command his official title was still Crown Prince, but physically he was already carrying out the duties of King. His father was too weak to handle it, maddened and broken after Morgana's attempt to take the throne. So now Camelot's sanctity was Arthur's burden and responsibility.
His. Not his manservant's.
Idiot Merlin had no right to jump into that spirit and let it ravage his body, leaving his master to a sleepless night of horrific recall.
When it happened, the collision with the spirit made Merlin's body writhe in the air like a flag being torn to bits in a violent windstorm. The Dorocha had given no mercy, pummeling the manservant's thin lanky body, sending him punishingly against the stone. It took agonizing seconds before Arthur's vocal chords found their way out in shrill shouts.
His mind shouted beyond…
Not your duty. Mine. Not yours to make me watch you assaulted. Not yours to flood my insides with guilt for it should have been…
Me.
Not you simple servant. Not you.
Truthfully, Merlin was more than the common servant. He most definitely affected emotions. Not a single knight's expression now was mundane. Each and every one showed true sadness. For this was Merlin. Always following along, keeping spirits up and laughter wry, Merlin.
Now so alarmingly cold. By the spirits that had endeavored to take him to their icy lair. And yet so far…they failed.
Of course Merlin survived while all others perished.
Queer conundrum Merlin.
Arthur wanted to abandon the mission now, but Leon and Lancelot were right. He couldn't. Merlin's life. Lives of all in Camelot. Each was as precious. Now Arthur wanted to be the one who brought Merlin safely to Gaius to be healed. He shivered deep inside at the thought of letting Merlin go. So weakened. So close to death.
But kings, present and future, do not abandon their mission. So he had no choice but to trust Lancelot, who he knew well was a strong friend of Merlin's.
It was daylight, time safe from the Dorocha. Lancelot should depart right away and get as far as possible before night commenced again.
Percival volunteered his strength without anyone having to say a word. It was the true measure of loyalty and camaraderie between Merlin and this honorable group of knights. Arthur wanted to assist, but for the moment he just watched as Percival lifted Merlin up too easily. Too skinny limbed Merlin.
Arthur often enough saw the boy eating, but small meals. To anyone else they probably wouldn't be sufficient, but Merlin didn't seem to mind. Eternally he would be skinny.
Arthur watched tensely, disturbed in his soul, as in Percival's strong grip Merlin's head lolled downward. Swung. Much too easily. Like a ragged doll. The blank look was still there in his eyes, bruised around the lids by ice and weariness. It made Arthur fight hard to not react strongly.
Future kings do not show feelings for a servant. If it was his father in his place, Arthur knew sickeningly that Merlin would be left to die. A feeble unable-to-do-his-job servant is a dead one. Easily replaced.
The thought of another in Merlin's place, made Arthur's stomach churn disgustedly. It was his fault anyway. He never should have allowed Merlin to pull him back. He should have fought him somehow. If Merlin hadn't gone with him to gather the firewood, he wouldn't be there. If Merlin had not been taken on the mission at all, he'd be safe in Camelot now. Like any other servant. Taking one on a risky life threatening mission? Arthur never did that before. He always left them to clean out his things.
But Merlin. Something about Merlin. Arthur liked having him…
There.
Percival came to the horse, gently draped Merlin across. Arthur's eyes felt heavy with unsatisfied denial of release. His lids burned as his servant's were discolored. Not just lazily opening and closing, like sometimes happened when he took Merlin on a dawn trek.
Silly Merlin would slump over when woken too early for a hunt or whatnot and just gracelessly fall out of his saddle. Most would yell out with shock as the ground met them. But not Merlin. Oh no. He'd just take a nap, smiling with closed eyes at the ground's bed. Always controlled. Always able to somehow enough cushion his fall.
But not now. Not this frozen Merlin. Arthur watched his lifeless form hang there, arms limp. As Percival respectfully, but reluctantly moved away, Arthur gripped the leather holds. A fraction of bareness on his wrist grazed Merlin's skin. It was as icy as the Northern River. It chilled him immediately as Arthur thought horridly, how can you even survive this Merlin?
Your body is literally a river of ice.
Shaking away his uncomforted thoughts, Arthur bound Merlin tightly to the saddle. He would make sure the young servant did not fall off. At least he could do that. Protect him from the harsh ground as now Merlin had no control of his limbs.
Of course Merlin opened his mouth, parted his icy stained lips, telling him he wanted to stay, actually pleading with his prince. Weak, desperate. Arthur fought away the emotion swelling within his heart and strongly negated his manservant. As he marveled at how Merlin still wanted to help.
Silly idiot Merlin Arthur wanted to say. You already saved my life you brave fool. Now it's my turn to keep you safe. If I could, I would take you back myself. Make certain the Dorocha do no more harm.
But I can't do that...manservant that years ago my father made you to be, not realizing you'd be the one servant to actually last. Baffling everyone, me included. Merlin. I trust Lancelot will get you to Gaius in time. So just shut up now. Rest. Close your mouth. And trust me in this. You will not die.
Not saving my life. You will not-
Camelot, I don't want another manservant. None are as bullish-stubborn-headed-outspoken-belligerent as clumsy as him. And I want no other.
Merlin.
You. Will. Not. Die.
Arthur gripped Merlin's shoulder. Let that be a hug from the future king who does not give them.
Standing there as the two departed, he was watchful of the second horse and most importantly its rider, until all he could see was a ghostly glimpse of Merlin's limp hand. Arthur's eyes burned like they were filled with flickers of flame. But soon he turned away resolutely.
Merlin needed to heal, and he had to perform his duty. As Lancelot would endeavor to save his manservant, Arthur would save Camelot.
His mind raged with purpose. Hard. Calculated. Persevering.
No time for tears. One lesson of many, he was taught long ago.
TTT
Days later, when Lancelot came announcing that it had been bad, Arthur felt the dread creep up his back. Lancelot could not mean it. He told him to take Merlin. He was trusted with the honor, duty and need to bring Merlin to Gaius. Why was he here? How could he say Merlin no longer fared? Merlin no longer-
And then Lancelot cracked the smile. He teased. And Merlin, idiot brave Merlin, was there, with that silly grin.
Just walking towards them like nothing of consequence ever happened. Like he hadn't been nearly frozen to ice days ago. Limp and lifeless of bone and muscle.
This Merlin was vibrant and in total awkward control. Arthur let out a long contained breath with relief. He heard his knights call out his manservant's name and embrace him. Arthur moved to Lancelot, thanking him gratefully as the others hugged Merlin. Because they could. They were not raised by a king who swore you to little affection and little emotion. And they were not as geared as Arthur was to always keeping the mission foremost in mind. In soul. In heart. He had to save Camelot. Arthur was tied, bound to that now. As he had been since this trek started. At the Isle of the Blessed he would sacrifice himself for the sanctity of and wellbeing of his people.
But as Merlin was before him now, Arthur couldn't help but crack a smile or two. His manservant was walking. Not hanging limply. His eyes were shining, not dull with ice of cold. Merlin was Merlin again. Healed. Somehow strangely healed. Arthur clasped his shoulder, cuffed him on the back of the head. And then it came. His version of a hug. Arthur wrapped his arm solidly around Merlin's shoulder, bringing him to the circle of the knights.
Where he belonged.
TTT
As the fire burned in the middle, the knights on one side sleeping, Arthur talked to Merlin on the other. A log was between them. Arthur leaned on one part, as Merlin leaned across the opposite. Merlin gave his selfless reassuring. Arthur smiled wryly at it and teased as Merlin tried to talk him out of the sacrifice the prince had already decided to take. Arthur importantly asked Merlin to protect Guinevere, the woman he loved. Even though Arthur knew the knights had more brawn, there was something about Merlin in his awkward bravery. He trusted that to keep happily, safely, his Guinevere.
As the hour grew later, Arthur nudged Merlin with his voice. "Go on. Get some sleep. You'll need it with the trip we'll be making tomorrow."
"You'll need it too."
Merlin's voice. Arthur wondered at it for a moment thinking that only one of them needed to keep watch. "Sleep Merlin."
"You sleep."
Belligerent. Stubborn. "You never do what you're told."
Seconds of nothing. And then, the truth spoken so casually, "Nope."
Talking happy silly idiot Merlin. Good to hear his voice again, without the weakened chill of the Dorocha attack. "Merlin." He said plaintively now, looking his servant strongly in the eye, quietly pleading with him to understand.
With a long sigh Merlin seemed to finally get it. Showing he was wearied in part, he lay down on his bedroll. Arthur watched protectively as the man turned a bit to be more comfortable. And then. What he had neglected to do so far.
"Thank you."
Merlin stirred slightly, giving a blurry look as he half lifted his head. "What?"
Arthur smiled.
"You know what for Merlin. Thank you…
For being the worst servant I ever had."
Merlin let out an unhappy grumble. Screwed his eyes with irritation.
Arthur smiled a tad more. An irked manservant always amused him.
"The worst…"
The manservant looked even more agitated. Arthur was sure if he gave it enough time the insults of prat and clotpole might come out.
Arthur thought further,
Stop frowning Merlin. I'm not done. Told you…you'd live. Good thing. Because you're not
Replaceable.
You can't be. You're my best friend. There I said it. Not out loud, but I said it. And meant it.
Merlin gave a queer look, unaware of Arthur's thoughts.
"The very worst…"
Arthur grinned, before sobering.
His thoughts, and these words, broke a couple of those vital rules he'd been taught since he could comprehend language. But perhaps they were meant to be broken.
Each future king had to find their own way. Quietly accepting his manservant as his most vital friend, was part of Arthur's. Echoed in the words he now spoke honestly, gratefully…
"And the bravest."
TTT
The End
With the tiniest scenes Bradley and Colin showed so much depth. They made the Merlin Arthur friendship even more vital for me. I had to write this.
Hope you enjoyed. Feedback as always loved and appreciated.