IV.
"Silence is the most powerful scream."
- Anonymous.
"Master Emrys. You have to wake up, please. Master Emrys!"
Merlin slowly came to, senses focusing on the voice in front of him. It was Gwen.
What was Gwen doing? Merlin made to sit up, and the sudden sound of splashing water made him look down. He was in a bathtub full of water. Why was he in the bathtub? He looked back up at Gwen, his thoughts slow and still sleep-fogged. He was naked in a bathtub.
Merlin gestured for a towel, feeling as if his hand alone weighed a few hundred pounds. Too heavy. He could barely curl his fingers around the fabric when Gwen handed it to him, her face full of worry.
"You've been in here all night," she babbled, while Merlin stood up slowly on shaky legs. "Your lips are blue, oh my god, you need something warm to drink right this minute!" Merlin swayed unsteadily as all the blood left his head, making his vision swim. Gwen helped him out of the tub, draping another white towel around his shoulders and hurrying him into his room. It was a strange sensation, walking and not feeling the ground. Merlin sat on the bed, casting about for his clothes.
He was past shivering.
Gwen was opening and closing drawers, and she handed him a set of clothes, as well as a woollen shirt two sizes too big.
"Go on, put these on while I fetch you something to drink. What were you, I mean- it's not my place but you're going to catch a dreadful chill, and-"
Merlin tried to smile at her, tried to reassure Gwen that he was alright. He was fine, actually. But the expression made his jaw hurt, and he touched it tentatively with one hand.
"And something for the bruise," continued Gwen, going through the wardrobe for an extra quilt, "I'll be right back," she promised and darted out of the room, closing the door behind her. Merlin put on the clothes, fingers stumbling over the buttons. His skin was wrinkled from being in the water, and when he accidentally knocked into the sharp edge of the bedside table, he could only feel a vague bump on his hand, no pain at all. The wallpaper patterns were brighter today.
It was all rather surreal.
Merlin sneezed.
In no time at all, the door reopened and Gwen returned, this time with Morgana, who opened the door for her. Gwen was carrying a large silver tray, laden with something that steamed in a bowl. It smelt savory and hot and made Merlin's mouth water as she set the food down on the bedside table. Morgana came rushing to his side, throwing herself onto the bed.
"Papa!" she exclaimed, hands coming up to touch Merlin's cheek. She gasped. "You're so cold!"
Even gesturing was slower than usual, as if it were taking longer for his limbs to process what his brain wanted them to do.
I'm fine. Did you sleep well?
Morgana nodded, clambering up the bed next to Merlin. She leaned on his shoulder, hooking her arm through his. She felt warm by his side.
Gwen set out the cutlery on the tray, then lifted the small table until it was by Merlin's knee.
"Here. Eat all that, then stay in bed and rest. You'll catch pneumonia, otherwise."
Merlin nodded up at her, still encased in that strange bubble which separated him from his senses. Gwen smiled back, then backed out of the room again, worry sparkling in her kind brown eyes. A moment passed in silence after she had gone.
"It's chicken," offered Morgana, poking at Merlin's soup with a silver spoon. "I think it's leftovers."
Merlin took the bowl in two hands, feeling the heat of it in his palms. It was almost scalding hot, but he didn't put it back down, instead picking up the spoon and starting to eat. Every time he swallowed, Merlin could feel the hot soup travel down his throat and into his stomach.
"Gwen says you caught the flu," said Morgana, watching him eat. Her hair was plaited today, twisted in a complicated knot at the back of her head, intertwined with gold ribbon. Her dress was also new, with expensive lace around the collar and sleeves.
In moments, Merlin had finished the bowl of soup. He set it back on the platter.
Maybe. Nothing too serious.
Morgana huffed and gave him a hug around the waist.
"Maybe you shouldn't go out so often," she said, and Merlin heard the edge in her voice. He didn't answer, instead pushing the small table back so he could stand. Morgana watched him with a calculating gaze.
"If you didn't go out so much, maybe Father wouldn't be so angry."
Merlin froze, stock still.
"I heard shouting," continued Morgana, and Merlin could feel her gaze on his back. He turned, giving her a tight smile.
It's not that, he gestured, fingers and palms forming patterns.
"He doesn't like you visiting Mister Pendragon," said Morgana, looking at him steadily, and Merlin felt all the blood drain from his face at Arthur's name. He stared at her, shocked.
What do you mean?
"He hasn't found out. Yet. But he still doesn't like you leaving the house so often."
There's nothing to find out. Morgana-
"I'm not stupid!" Morgana burst out, eyes flashing. "I'm not a little child either. I know what you're - "
Merlin pressed a finger to his lips desperately, glancing towards the door.
Morgana gave him a disapproving sort of look, little lips curved downwards in a frown. Then her expression softened and she came forward to hug him again. Merlin didn't move, uncertainty thudding painfully in his chest.
"Just don't make Father angry, okay?" she asked. "I hate the shouting."
Merlin nodded, numb, and watched her go.
:i:
Love is a slow and sudden thing.
It sweeps you up like a wave and takes you to sea, where the water is deep and there is no hope of touching the bottom.
It is slow in the stillness of the cove, where the very air speaks of his absence, the unblemished sand marking where he should be standing next to you.
It is like a piano, of ivory keys and an impossible combination of sound, which without a pianist, without him, remains as silent as those without voice.
:i:
Merlin studied his reflection in the window while rain pattered softly outside.
There was an ugly bruise along his jaw, the blue and purple standing out against pale skin. Merlin traced the places where the bruises were most severe, where the fingers had dug hardest. The morning passed by slowly.
Merlin debated whether or not he should see Arthur. The rain was nothing, but he didn't want Arthur to see the bruises. It would lead to questions, and even though Arthur had let the matter go in the past, he would press for answers this time, Merlin was sure of it. And if Merlin told the truth-
He let his hand drop to his side.
Arthur could confront Valiant - he would. But Merlin didn't even want to speculate about Valiant's reaction, didn't want to find out what he would do if he discovered that Merlin had been visiting Arthur every day ever since he had arrived here. And even if Merlin did tell Arthur the truth, Valiant would be no doubt so angry at the deception that he would throw Merlin and Morgana out of the house. That wasn't an alternative at all; Morgana needed a home, somewhere familiar. She already saw Valiant as a second parent figure, even if the thought made Merlin feel a little nauseous.
Yet Valiant was good to Morgana - spoiled her, even.
No, Merlin mustn't be selfish.
The rain tapped out a tuneless melody on the windowpane, and it lulled him slowly to sleep.
:i:
That night, Arthur was woken by the sound of silence.
:i:
When Merlin woke again, it was dark in the room. Someone had closed the curtains, and he was in bed, the covers heavy and suffocating on top of his chest. His skin was covered in goose pimples and a layer of cold sweat, making him shiver. There was something uncomfortable lodged in his throat, in his nose, and Merlin found it difficult to breathe properly. Each breath wheezed painfully, and he tried to prop himself up on his elbows, coughing wetly.
A figure shifted in the chair next to his bed.
"About time," said Arthur.
Merlin jerked upright so fast he felt nauseous. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out Arthur's face, defined lines in the darkness. Merlin stared. Perhaps this was an illness-induced hallucination.
"You've been asleep for almost an entire day, according to Gwen," said Arthur, moving forward. It was a moment before Merlin realised he was offering a glass of water, and he took it with shaky hands. Not a hallucination then.
The liquid felt wonderful going down parched throat. Merlin almost choked, trying to gulp it down in one go. He felt Arthur's hand prising the cup away, the sinking of mattress as the man sat down next to him on the bed. A large, warm palm at his back rubbed comforting circles. Something was worrying at the back of Merlin's mind. Arthur. Arthur here.
"Easy," said Arthur, "You have a fever."
Merlin gestured frantically.
"More water?" asked Arthur, confused. Merlin shook his head, and when Arthur still didn't get it, Merlin tried to slip out of bed, hands pushing at Arthur's shoulders.
"Wait. Look- wait," said Arthur, fumbling in his jacket pocket. He brought out an unfamiliar pad and pen, flipping to a clear page and pushing both objects into Merlin's hands. "Here."
Merlin could barely see anything past his nose, but he wrote down the message as clearly as he could.
You can't be here.
Arthur took the pad.
"What?" he said, brows wrinkling. "I most definitely can."
Merlin thumped the bed covers with a frustrated fist before snatching back the pad and writing:
You must leave before Valiant finds out you've been here. Please.
Arthur's face darkened.
"Actually, I'm planning to stay right here until he returns," he said, reaching to brush a gentle hand against the bruise on Merlin's jaw, the soft touch at odds with the tone of his voice. Merlin flinched. "I need to ask him why he feels the need to beat his ward."
You don't understand. It will be worse if he sees you here. You have to go now.
"Merlin," started Arthur, but Merlin could feel panic welling up inside him. He couldn't lose Arthur as well.
Please, Arthur.
"Only Gwen knows I'm here," said Arthur "I came because you didn't show up. I thought my dinner invitation must have scared you off for good, but I couldn't- Merlin, I couldn't stand not knowing. I had to see you."
Warmth blossomed in Merlin's chest at Arthur's words, but the panic didn't ebb.
I'll explain later. You have to leave.
Arthur shook his head, but Merlin fisted his hands in Arthur's shirt, forcing the man to look at him. Something of Merlin's terror must have shown on his face, because Arthur stilled. One hand came up to circle around Merlin's wrist.
"I can't just -" Arthur broke himself off, eyes searching, locked with Merlin's. His voice sounded as raw; an interrupted cadence. "That bastard can't be allowed to hurt you, I won't let him."
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. He knew nothing he could say would persuade Arthur to leave, so he wrote:
I don't want to see you. Leave now.
When Arthur didn't move, Merlin pushed against his chest, punched him, face turned away so Arthur wouldn't see the tears. There was deafening silence, like a scream.
After a long moment, Arthur finally, finally stood. He bent down to brush a kiss on Merlin's temple, then stepped away, straightening his jacket. Merlin handed him the notepad and pen, and Arthur's hand lingered over his. Merlin could feel Arthur staring at his back for another minute before turning abruptly. Footsteps. Then the door opened, closed. He was gone.
Merlin sank back slowly onto his pillow and uncurled his fingers around the object Arthur had pressed into his hand just before he'd left. It was a single piano key.
It was a promise.
That night, fever made Merlin dream.
/EMBED THE HEART ASKS PLEASURE FIRST
:i:
Merlin's fever lasted three days before it broke.
Once, he thought he saw Valiant at the foot of his bed, face blank as he watched Merlin toss and turn in delirium.
Morgana brought in lavender flowers that filled the room with their scent, heavy and feminine.
Arthur didn't return.
:i:
"I don't get it," said Morgana.
"What do you mean?" asked Gwen, closing the story book.
"What if Snow White didn't want to live with the stupid prince?" asked Morgana, her eyebrows contracting in a frown. "I mean she just woke up. It wasn't like she was in a clear state of mind."
Gwen raised an eyebrow.
"He's a prince," she said, as if that explained everything. Morgana shook her head, curls bouncing.
"But she's been living with the seven little men!" protested Morgana, "It's not like she hated it there, right? They took her in and treated her like family. It doesn't make sense that she would just abandon them to go live with a stranger that she doesn't even know properly. A stranger who kissed her without permission, too."
"They're in love," said Gwen indulgently. "People can do strange things, when in love."
"You can't just do that," said Morgana, face solemn and eyes dark. "It doesn't make sense."
:i:
"You're not well enough to go riding," said Gwen, too worried to care about propriety.
Merlin waved her off, shrugging on a heavy jacket and hauling himself into the saddle. He fed the mare a piece of apple from his hand, and she nuzzled his palm affectionately. Merlin made a few complicated gestures, pointing at himself and at his watch, then mimed eating.
"You better be back before supper," said Gwen, and she smiled at last. Merlin smiled back, the fresh air already filling him with thoughts of Arthur and everything being alright once more. It was like hope.
Digging his heels into the mare's side, Merlin set off down the forest track at a trot. Soon he disappeared out of sight.
Morgana closed the curtains and stepped away from the window.
:i:
"Merlin," said Arthur, looking surprised at the figure in the doorway. Gaius quietly disappeared into the shadows. "You're here?"
It was a cold day; there was a gentle fire crackling in the hearth. Papers were strewn about one of the desks, and the library glowed with warmth. Arthur had glasses on. He looked as if he hadn't expected Merlin ever to set foot here again, and the thought made Merlin cross the room in three strides.
Arthur rose to meet him - then hands, warm and careful and safe - andMerlin found himself enveloped by the scent of coffee, polish, and Arthur Arthur Arthur, his hands fisted in Arthur's shirt, Arthur's own running up and down Merlin's sides, one arm looped around Merlin's waist in a tight embrace. Arthur's face was buried in Merlin's hair, Merlin's nose in the crook of Arthur's neck, breathing him in like a perfect cadence.
EMBED /HURRICANE
"You're alright, you're alright," Arthur was murmuring over and over. "Idiot, idiot, the last few days you have no idea. Merlin."
Merlin clung on. He could feel the rhythm of Arthur's heart beneath his palm, anchoring him. He breathed out, slowly.
It was a long minute before they broke apart.
"I thought you didn't want to see me," said Arthur, tone light and only half joking. Merlin bit his lip in apology and shook his head, reaching up to trace the dark shadows under Arthur's eyes.
"God," Arthur bit out, as if unable to stop himself, "I was so wor- But you're safe now. You're safe now."
Merlin reached for his notebook, almost dropping the pen in the process. Arthur's eyes never left his face, even as he wrote.
Forgive me?
"There's nothing to forgive. Even though I did think, for a moment… but it doesn't matter now," said Arthur. His eyes lingered on the bruise still visible on Merlin's jaw. Merlin saw Arthur's own jaw tighten, and he tensed. He was relieved when Arthur didn't say anything and only led them over to two comfortable chairs next to the fire.
Merlin sneezed.
Arthur shot him a scandalized look.
"What the hell were you doing, out riding so soon after your illness?" he said, half shouting.
Merlin gave him a baleful look and rolled his eyes.
He scribbled a sentence down. I thought you'd have kittens if I didn't see you for an entire week.
"I wouldn't-! That's just-!" spluttered Arthur. Merlin wondered if the comment was too much of a blow to Arthur's masculinity. He chewed on the tip of the pen, watching Arthur's reaction. It was all very endearing.
He tried to push Merlin into a chair by a side table holding the remnants of tea. Merlin dug his heels into the carpet, eyes straying toward the piano. Arthur snorted. Merlin was relieved to see the quirk at the edge of his mouth – a smile, almost.
"I missed the music," said Arthur. "The house was odd without it."
Merlin heard: I missed you.
Later, when Merlin's fingers were sore from playing and the light was beginning to sink into late afternoon, when they had kissed by the French windows, lingering kisses that left Merlin dizzy, when Arthur had pulled them both into a soft armchair and they were sitting, side by side – he said,
"You know. You could stay here."
It took a moment for Merlin to process what Arthur had said. His nose was still buried in the nape of Arthur's neck, in the soft golden hair, lips touching skin. Arthur's arms were around him, warm and solid and safe. Chopin played on the gramophone in the background, soft and lovely, hazy like a dream. Merlin stared back into Arthur's face, tilting his own head to one side in question.
"With me," said Arthur, and one of his hands closed around Merlin's own, fingers drawing patterns on the smooth skin of the palm. "You would be safe here, you and Morgana both – "
But Merlin was pulling away, shaking his head and searching for his notebook. The pages were nearly all filled up now, heavy with ink and secrets and hope.
No, wrote Merlin.
"I won't let that brute-"
Merlin silenced Arthur with a finger to the lips, because Arthur had to understand. He had already come too close; last time had been too close. Merlin had heard the maids whispering hours after Arthur had departed. He had spent the next few days tense and sleepless, waiting for Valiant to find out, to deal out some terrible retribution against Merlin or his daughter. Then Arthur would be out of reach forever.
No.
I can't.
"Why?" persisted Arthur, leaning forward when Merlin averted his eyes. "You wouldn't have to worry about anything, here. He won't be able to touch you again."
Arthur raised a hand tentatively, the movement gentle for one such as he. The pad of the finger traced over the lingering colour of a bruise, and Merlin caught Arthur's wrist, pushing it away. There was a constriction in his chest, an ache that had been lodged there ever since he met Arthur. It made Merlin feel weak.
"This can't go on," he said, fingers tightening around Merlin's hands when Merlin tried to pull away once more. "I won't let this go on."
:i:
Despite everything, Merlin kept seeing Arthur.
He couldn't stop himself. And something in his mind told him it was because, somewhere, sometime, he had stopped caring. He loved the piano, he loved Morgana, but …it wasn't the same. Until now, until Arthur, Merlin had never known the exhilaration of being truly loved.
Everything else paled in comparison.
"I will be back in a few days," said Valiant. He was speaking to Morgana more than Merlin, so he didn't notice the sudden stillness of the hand, the sharp intake of breath.
Morgana, however, did.
"A few days?" she asked, glancing at Merlin. "Why?"
"Business, sweetheart," said Valiant, dropping a kiss to her forehead. "But I promise to bring something back for you."
Morgana huffed, but she smiled also.
"Fine."
Merlin said nothing.
:i:
"Papa, you can't."
Merlin was sick of that word.
"Are you going to see Mister Pendragon again?" asked Morgana, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. When Merlin did not answer, she said, "Papa? Are you?"
Merlin tightened the horse's stirrups, wrapping the leather reins around one hand. The mare whickered softly, nuzzling his pockets for carrots and sugar. Merlin patted her nose fondly.
"You are!" accused Morgana, eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "Daddy will be cross!"
He's not here.
"He might find out!" said Morgana, throwing up her hands. Merlin wondered when she had grown so much.
He won't.
Morgana did not answer.
:i:
"You're here early," said Arthur, laughing as Merlin nearly fell from his horse in his eagerness to get into the house. He steadied the mare with one hand, helping Merlin off the saddle with the other.
"I swear," said Arthur, amusement flickering through his blue eyes, "how many months? And you still can't ride properly."
Merlin rolled his eyes.
Arthur handed the reins of Merlin's horse over to a young boy who appeared at his elbow. He slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders.
"Come, I've got something to show you," he said, leading them into the house. Merlin raised an eyebrow.
Really.
Arthur only shot him a smug look and walked on. They passed through now familiar corridors, up a flight of carpeted stairs and through a small dusty room, which led into another corridor. The lights flickered on with a disused crackle when Arthur flicked the switch, and Merlin had never seen so many light bulbs in one place.
Arthur opened a plain wooden door at end of the corridor, and Merlin stepped through.
Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Merlin realized the space was larger than it had first seemed. Octagonal in shape, the room was covered on one side in long, ceiling to floor drapes. There was a large, polished wooden display case on the west side of the room, and on closer inspection, he saw all sorts of things on the shelves, arranged haphazardly. Picture frames, glass bottles, china plates with pale blue patterns. There were half-open boxes on the floor as well, full of books and dark folded cloth. Merlin thought he saw a brown, worn bear in one of the boxes, half buried. The room was a treasure chest.
Behind him, Arthur was pulling a dark, rectangular case from behind a dusty vanity. With a tug, Merlin pulled the bear free, and it stared at him with dark button eyes, fur soft with wear and love. Something warm swelled up in Merlin's chest.
EMBED/ SCENT OF LOVE
Crossing over to the windows, Merlin curled his fingers in the gap of the curtains and pulled. Sunlight streamed into the room, transforming the glass on the shelves into glittering panels, bouncing off the crystal ware and plates. It made Arthur's hair glow.
"Here," said Arthur, squinting a little in the sunlight, "hadn't had a chance to fetch it." He blew on the case, laying it out on a blank piece of floor.
Merlin came closer, and Arthur drew up two chairs, which looked as if they had never been used. Merlin sneezed again, and decided to kneel down next to the case instead. When Arthur turned to look at him, his eyes fell to the bear clutched in Merlin's hands.
Merlin's smile widened at the blush on Arthur's cheeks.
"Where did you find him?" asked Arthur gruffly.
Merlin pointed to the box at the end of the row.
"Well. You can put him back."
Merlin pretended to think, a thoughtful expression on his face, before he shook his head and tucked the bear beneath one arm. He pulled out the notebook with his other hand.
But he is lovely. Was he yours?
Arthur glared at the bear.
"No."
Merlin pushed the bear into Arthur's face and pulled the case towards him. Arthur spluttered, muffled by fur and fabric. Merlin ran a hand down the length of the case, the hard leather cracked at the edges. The silver buckles had rusted, and it was with some difficulty that he popped open the catch, lifting the lid of the case with a creak.
When he pulled aside the velvet cloth, Merlin's breath caught in his throat.
It was a violin.
Merlin glanced up at Arthur, seeking permission. Arthur shrugged.
"I thought you might like it," he said casually.
Merlin lifted the instrument from its cradle. Unlike everything else in the room, the violin's body was polished and free from grime. A slender neck and a whole-piece back - Merlin recognized it as a ladies' violin, and the grooves worn into the fingerboard told him it was an instrument that had been loved, once. The strings still sat tight upon the bridge, out of tune and beautiful.
Merlin set it down in his lap, undoing the braided latch which held in place the two bows, whose hairs were loose with age. Rosin stuck to Merlin's fingertips, the smell reminding him of the home he used to have in London. He stopped, staring at his own hands.
The strings were out of tune, pegs stiff with disuse, and Merlin was scared of breaking the strings. He had never played a violin before, but he had seen enough people do so to mimic the position. He propped the instrument under his chin, hand twisting a little awkwardly to hold the neck of the violin. Arthur took the bow from him, tightened it, and handed it back.
"I should have known you could play it," said Arthur, a hint of a smile on his lips. He looked pleased with himself, happy. Merlin blushed and shook his head.
Hesitantly, he placed the bow on the string, curling his fingers around the base of the bow as he had seen once, up close in a painting. The bow wobbled. Merlin pulled it down, careful only to touch one string.
What was meant to be an A came out as a croaky note, flat and rather sulky. Merlin winced, lowering the violin.
"No," said Arthur, chuckling, "Keep going. You need more weight in your arm, I think. Don't be afraid."
Doubtful, Merlin raised the instrument once more, trying to balance it under his chin whilst his left hand reached for the pegs. He twisted experimentally – and to his astonishment, the string did not snap or explode but made a strange, twanging sound that slid upwards from a doubtful F to C. The peg wanted to go back in the other direction, and Merlin twisted again, until it grudgingly went up to A.
He tried again. The violin gave a long, sour note, clearly not happy with being played by Merlin at all. The piano and violin didn't get along that well, not yet, anyway. Merlin ran a finger along the 'f's beside the bridge, the gold trimming along the tailpiece.
Perhaps he could learn, thought Merlin, excitement bubbling up inside him.
"It was my mother's," said Arthur.
Merlin looked up from the violin. The question must have been evident in his expression, because Arthur went on, tone indiscernible.
"She died when I was very young. That's -" he gestured at the violin "- it was her's. My father had all the photographs and paintings burnt before her funeral. All her dresses, everything she owned. But this I managed to salvage."
There was a long moment of silence.
"I think she wouldn't have- she would have wanted me to keep it safe for her," said Arthur, the raw edge to his voice making Merlin ache in his heart. He did not know what had prompted this, what had made Arthur open the door and let Merlin into this dusty room full of childhood and grief.
"I used to play, my mother, she taught-" said Arthur, stopping and starting like impromptus, unfinished. His eyes were fixed on the instrument in Merlin's hands. "But I haven't for…for a very long time."
He looked up, and their eyes locked, seeking each other on instinct, like the progression of a cadence coming home. Merlin stayed very still. Arthur still had the bear in his hands, and he put it down beside them, leaning, reaching slowly forwards until the two of them were so close that all Merlin could hear were their breaths, just the two of them, bracketed in the shaft of warm sunlight through the curtains.
Merlin placed a hand over Arthur's heart just to feel it beat underneath his palms. Arthur's breathing stuttered.
"I never noticed the silence until I met you."
Merlin wished for a voice.
He opened his mouth to speak, to say I never noticed it either, to say Arthur, to listen to what it would sound like, his love formed into words, the shape of them – Merlin wondered how it would taste on his tongue: sweet or bitter or both? But then Arthur's arm was pulling him closer by the waist, one hand cupping the back of Merlin's neck. He kissed, pressing softly on Merlin's mouth, his own opening in an exhale of breath, and Merlin wound his hands through Arthur's golden hair, closerclosercloser.
Arthur's kisses reminded Merlin of Brahms, a lullaby, something sung, at once desperate and gentle. He bit down on the corner of Arthur's jaw line just to hear him groan, arms tightening around Merlin's body in retaliation. Breathing was secondary. Merlin had to pull back, pushing with both hands just to gasp a breath before Arthur dove back in, tilting their bodies so Merlin was leaning back, throat bared in a pale arch.
"Merlin," Arthur was saying, "you make me - gods - "
The sunlight bathed Arthur in gold, face aglow, and Merlin drank in his words, feeling hot inside his throat, almost too painful to bear. He could feel the muscles of Arthur's back through his thin jacket, taut beneath Merlin's hands, and Merlin smiled into another kiss, the scent of Arthur's hair filling him like semiquavers, sending shivers up and down his spine.
He jerked when Arthur's hands, calloused and smooth all at once, touched his bare skin, sliding beneath his shirt and jacket and pushing up. Merlin's own hands fisted in Arthur's hair, and he gasped out loud, their breaths as one, Arthur staring into his face with something darker in his eyes.
"Too many clothes," he said, wrenching Merlin's jacket off roughly, and then Merlin was unbuttoning Arthur's shirt, fingers deft. He got distracted when Arthur's collar fell open, revealing smooth skin and collarbone, and Merlin sucked a kiss there, nose in the dip of Arthur's neck. Arthur's hands were running up and down the expanse of Merlin's back, now jacket-less, warm palms dipping past hips.
"Not here," Arthur managed to say, each word punctuated by a hasty kiss. "Bedroom."
He pulled Merlin bodily upwards, not letting go, and Merlin laughed. They managed to make it out of the room, wrestling with door handles and knocking into side tables as Arthur hauled them into another room, their progress significantly hindered by hands and kisses and Arthur saying:
"You've got the bear? Jesus, Merlin!" And then Merlin dropped the teddy bear as Arthur pushed him onto the bed covers, kissing a hot trail down Merlin's neck.
At some point, Merlin flipped them over, hooking one leg between Arthur's and unbalancing him. Arthur looked a little surprised, splayed out on the bed, shirt somewhere on the floor along with Merlin's own. The laughter on his face made Merlin kiss him again, then again, steadied by Arthur's hands on his hips, and Arthur said, amused,
"Is the piano playing?" He cocked his head to one side, listening to the notes flowing through the door, left ajar. "It is!"
Merlin shrugged, too occupied with the topography of Arthur's chest to be bothered with the piano at the moment. Arthur pulled him up to eye level and kissed him deeply, tongue swiping across Merlin's teeth.
"Do I inspire you, then?" he asked, definitely sounding amused now, fingers undoing the fastening of Merlin trousers. Merlin scowled at the interruption.
You Prat.
Arthur laughed, a burst of sound that Merlin could feel rumbling through his own skin, and he smiled. The notes of the piano swirled about them, following the tempo of Merlin's heartbeat. The sense of touch, intimate, the hot slick heat of it all - there was nothing else, nothing.
The world was the sound of Arthur, saying Merlin, Merlin, Merlin and the piano answering in kind.
:i:
"And we'll recall, when time runs out,
That it only took a moment to be loved."
:i:
Gwen found Morgana outside on the veranda, near nightfall.
"Sweetie," she said from the threshold. "Dinner."
Morgana turned, her profile shadowed by the light spilling from the doorway. Gwen couldn't see her expression properly, but the eyes reflected the light. It made her look eerie.
"Papa's not home."
"I'm sure he's alright," said Gwen, hands clasped together in worry. She peered out into the darkness, the trees blocking the path from sight with their long-hanging shadows. Merlin had always returned before dark.
"He isn't," said Morgana and jumped off the veranda. She stalked past Gwen, face unreadable, and Gwen felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool night breeze.
:i:
Arthur woke without realizing.
Dreams bled into reality like slowly seeping ink, staining the sheets and leaving marks on bare skin.
There was the warmth of sunlight on the back of his neck and the heat of another body pressed up against his own. His arm was rising and falling with the other's steady breaths as it lay draped across chest, ribs, back. Arthur cracked open his eyes slowly, blinking to clear away the haze of sleep.
The first thing he saw was the shell of Merlin's ear. He slept with his face angled towards Arthur, one hand curled up so it rested in a loose fist on Arthur's chest. Merlin looked peaceful in sleep – the constant tension gone, smoothed out around the eyes. Arthur had never seen him this relaxed while awake, aside from the times that Merlin laughed. There was something terribly vulnerable in the arch of his eyebrows and the fan of dark lashes on pale skin. His mouth, still kissed red from the night before, was parted slightly. Arthur listened to the little puffs of breath for a long time, counting them and trying to match his own breathing. The shaft of sunlight fell across Merlin's face, golden, and Arthur reached out to brush the skin there. He cupped Merlin's face and leaned over to brush a kiss on his lips, chaste.
Merlin stirred and smiled in his sleep.
Arthur kissed him again, and Merlin made a small noise of content, turning onto his side until his face was buried in the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur let his arm fall farther, bringing one palm up to caress the dip in Merlin's back, drawing lazy patterns there like a memory.
When he next looked back up to Merlin's face, it was to find two blue eyes staring back at him, still unfocused and half asleep.
"Hey," said Arthur quietly, smiling. He leaned in for another kiss.
Merlin kissed back, slow and languid, fingers unfurling to press against Arthur's skin – warm. Then he froze. Arthur felt his entire body go stiff beneath his hands, and he pulled back slightly, bewildered. Merlin was staring over Arthur's shoulder at the window.
"What's-"
And then Merlin was pushing away, sitting upright and scrabbling for his clothes. His face was scrunched up in panic, colour draining from previously flushed cheeks. Arthur sat up also. Merlin was pulling on his trousers, and Arthur saw that his fingers were shaking at the laces.
"Merlin - calm down. Hey - " Arthur reached out to put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and the latter reluctantly allowed himself to be turned around.
"Valiant's not back until tomorrow, remember?" said Arthur, voice low and soothing. "Calm down." He slid his hand along Merlin's shoulder, still sleep-warm, to cup the back of his neck. Merlin blinked at him, hands stilling in his lap. No words. Arthur summoned up his courage.
When he spoke, he hated the uncertainty in his own voice.
"Won't you stay?"
Merlin's squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. Arthur could see the outline of Merlin's ribs as he breathed in and out shallowly and fast, like a bird caught in a trap. Finally, he looked up. They stared at each other for a long minute, before Merlin shook his head jerkily and went to pull on his shirt. Arthur sighed and drew his hand back, feeling sick to the stomach.
The golden euphoria that had filled him upon waking was slowly fading from Arthur's chest, cooled by reality and Merlin's scared expression. He began pulling on his own clothes in silence. Merlin swung his legs from the bed with a wince, and Arthur watched as he padded over to the chair to pick up his jacket. It had been tossed there en route to the bed last night, whilst Merlin had been busy sucking a bruise on Arthur's jaw. Merlin shook out the coat and pulled his arms through it, movements careful and deft like everything about him. His worn-out shoes were on opposite sides of the room, and he retrieved them, all the while keeping his eyes averted from the bed.
You shalt not covet.
Had Arthur been swept away by music and naïve passion like the kind of sentimental fool he had always despised? He dug his fingernails into his palm and struggled to keep a blank expression as Merlin pulled out the notebook Arthur had given him and set it down at the foot of the bed. This was reality, for heaven's sake! Merlin had never been his! Solitude had worn down his barriers. Arthur would have never made such a mistake in London, where emotion had been only something to be exploited, to be used in intrigue and politics. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Merlin had walked through all that, straight into Arthur's heart. And now -
Merlin paused on the threshold, eyes flickering to Arthur's face, then darting away, then back again. He offered a faint smile. Arthur didn't smile back.
- now, he was walking out again.
:i:
Arthur breakfasted a little later than usual, but everything else he kept the same. He spread strawberry preserves on thinly sliced toast; Earl Grey steamed gently by his elbow. He was interrupted by Gaius, who hesitated at the door of the morning room. Arthur saw his eyes dart around the room, taking in Arthur's solitude.
"Has Master Emrys left already?" he asked.
"Yes," said Arthur curtly, slicing the crust from his bread. He didn't like crusts.
Gaius was studying him with those eyebrows of his. Arthur could feel the disapproval of them burning into the top of his head, but he continued eating as if oblivious. Gaius shuffled farther into the room, placing a silver tray laden with letters and envelopes on the edge of Arthur's table. Arthur paused, one particular letter catching his eye.
Putting down his knife, he plucked the cream envelope from the top of the pile.
"This is from London," said Arthur, examining the stamp in the corner, flipping the envelope over.
Then he froze. Arthur had not seen this handwriting in three years, but it was seared into his memory, familiar as his own. He ripped open the envelope.
"Your father wants you to return to England," said Gaius.
:i: