b l u e b e l l s
i n
w i n t e r
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{ g o s a n g o k u }
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It's times like this that he allows himself to indulge, only for a moment, and lets his hands linger on Arthur's broad shoulders. He inhales, breath hitching as he does so, as he imagines Gwen resting her head on Arthur's shoulder and breathing in his scent every night, and he quietly entertained the fantasy of being Arthur's loved one. Not a friend, not a brother, but…
He couldn't think that way though. He couldn't afford to yield to his desires: he would ruin the course of their destiny. That word resonated bitterly in his mind, echoing ominously whenever the dragon spoke it, and he was beginning to abhor the word as much as Uther had loathed magic.
But he was… grateful. Even if there was a constant dull ache resonating in his heart whenever Arthur confided in him his feelings for Gwen, he was still thankful to be a part of Arthur's life. Even – even as a friend. And that should have been enough, shouldn't it? To be considered more loyal to Arthur than even his knights; for him to be the first person that Arthur called a friend; for him to remain by Arthur's side throughout everything… It should have been enough.
It almost was, really. It was… hard, to maintain his smile when Arthur and Gwen exchanged kisses and whispered words and when the kingdom spoke so fondly of their king and queen. Arthur pressed Merlin about finding someone, or had done before Merlin had spilled a secret of how he had loved and lost a woman and couldn't do anything to save her and how he couldn't bring himself to do it again—to give away such a large park of himself, one that was already fractured and ready to break, only to be shattered and irreparable.
But that had already happened, hadn't it?
As he stood behind Arthur, his king, his… friend, deftly putting on his armour, he basked in the sound of silence, filling it with unspoken words that had been said in his dreams many a times – Merlin,weshouldn't… butIwantyou.Ineedyou,onlyyou… – until everything was in place. He sighed again, pursing his lips and shaking his head minutely as his trembling fingers slipped from Arthur's shoulders.
"Merlin."
He almost didn't look up, knowing he would regret it, being in such close proximity, close enough to gaze right into Arthur's eyes which were always unguarded around Merlin, trust and fondness lingering within the blue depths, but being unable to be close enough. But he did. He always did, always tortured himself by giving into Arthur's whims, into his own, even though it would mean locking himself away later and remembering everyone he had lost, everyone he'd let himself lose.
"If I die out there…"
"No," he said firmly, surprised by how steady his own voice was as he stared determinedly into Arthur's eyes. "Don't hypothesise about how you'll die. Every time there's a battle or a tournament or - or anything, you always turn to me and say that. You are not going to die today, Arthur. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. Not while I'm around." And gods, he'd said too much again. He'd always given one-word answers, evasive questions, and now he had just… given more of himself away.
"There's something about you, Merlin," Arthur had said after a prolonged silence, punctured only by Merlin's self-deprecating thoughts, and he looked up again. Arthur's gaze was steady, unwavering, but so was his own despite how exposed he felt. Then Arthur lifted an arm, and Merlin steeled himself in preparation for a friendly punch on the shoulder, only for the strong hand to rest gently on it. He inhaled sharply as if he hadbeen hit, pleased that Arthur had chosen to show affection in this way instead, disappointed that it hadn't been more, furious with himself for hoping. Again.
"That you can't quite put your finger on?" Merlin finally ventured wearily, with a half-smile, pained, feeling choked, and Arthur returned it. Merlin only wished he could read into it just as people seemed to be able to in books, but Arthur, ironically, was more like one of his spell books: bewildering, astonishing, something to be worked out in mystical ways with different results each time.
"If I need a – friend in my next life…"
Merlin started slightly, heart thudding restlessly in his chest and eyes stinging as he forced his smile to remain intact. "You can count on me for that," he whispered, and Arthur's smile was real, full of love and devotion that would forever remain unspoken, that would never be the sort of love and devotion Merlin felt for him. But – it was enough. Like a bittersweet ending, a twisted fairytale where the beautiful girl and the heroic prince fell in love, only Merlin had ruined it, deprecated it with his own bloody feelings. But it was enough that he was wanted, that his friends were happy, that he could at least be by their sides…
And then Arthur was gone, vanishing through the flaps of the tent to ready for the next battle, and Merlin swayed where he stood, the phantom touch of Arthur's hand on his shoulder. He covered it with his own, shutting his eyes and imagining Arthur's hand intertwining with his own, only for the illusion to shatter at the shrill sound of a battle cry.
With a broken noise that almost wasn't audible, Merlin left the tent, magic coursing through his veins and conjuring itself in his heart and in his fingertips while his shoulder still tingled from the feeling of Arthur.
And he felt the little shards of broken heart inside of him crumble to dust.
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Merlin belongs to the BBC.
Bluebells are associated with gratitude, constancy, and everlasting love. I incorporate a lot of symbolism in many of my fics. Perhaps my English teachers influenced me.
I like Gwen and I know historically she did marry Arthur and then there was the Lancelot mess, but this is just hypothetical. I've seen a few people saying that they think Merlin's secretly in love with Arthur, or he's been falling in love with him while Arthur sees him only as a friend or brother, and whilst I logically know that it isn't canon—on script, anyway—I just… had to write for it. It seems plausible to me, even if I wish they were together with reciprocated feelings.
Nevertheless, I didn't want to alter their entire personalities and have them act out of character. Merlin's sacrificed a lot to protect Arthur. "Everything I do is for him." He's terrified of revealing his magic in case Arthur rejects him and banishes him or has him killed and then he won't be able to help Arthur; he became the last dragonlord after his father died and couldn't speak of it to anyone; he's always trying to save Arthur and can't take credit for it and so Arthur knows of hardly any instances in which he's saved his life. Merlin's seen as weak when he's had to overcome so much and keep smiling and saving, and he can'tspeakofit.
He's good at hiding things. It's a practiced art, and he's perfected it.