I was supposed to write and finish up an entirely different fluffy one-shot, but this prompt just barged in without prior notice and wouldn't leave until I was done writing it.
Please leave comments, they make my day.
Merlin never had any trouble with stumbling into the King's chambers without knocking. It all started when he stumbled into the chambers his first day of work all those years ago with hands full of the Prince's food. There was no way to knock on the door, he did not have an extra hand to spare, so all Merlin could do was to subtly guide his magic to slowly open the door and barge in without any other fanfare.
Merlin and the King's doors had a long history between them. On rough mornings, the doors became the one to feel the brunt of flying goblets and mushy fruits that Arthur would throw at him. On good mornings, he would be the one to shut the doors at the King's face, ignoring the royal's annoyed cries of his name. For Merlin those doors became a pillar of support, a place to rest and helped to build up the courage to put up with the life of lies and pretence and ignore the snake pit that he lived in.
Now, those doors were what stood between his life of lies and safety and his freedom and danger.
If he was brave enough, this day would either end with a bloody sword and a broken friendship, or a slap on the wrist if he was lucky. The thing is, luck was never on his side in the last few years.
His hands felt clammy, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead beneath the fringes of his dark hair.
It would be fine.
It should be fine.
Morgana was defeated, Camelot was reclaimed, Gwen was back, Gaius was recovering, Agravaine was dead and Merlin was-
-Merlin was barely holding onto reality.
His hand was half way up to knock on the door, knuckles barely inches away from the wooden barrier.
'He's been consorting with sorcerers. He more or less admitted to it.'
'I've had my heart broken enough already today. I don't want to lose another friend.'
The King's condemning voice echoed in his ears.
Reality hit Merlin like one of those handy goblets Arthur would throw at him on a bad morning, and this time there were no doors to take the brunt of it.
What was Merlin thinking?
Was he really going to confess that he had Magic to the King of Camelot? Right after his kingdom almost got destroyed by a vengeful witch?
Right after there were reports of dragonfire and burnt corpses in Ealdor, the same place that the King chose as a safe haven?
Right after Merlin had killed the King's uncle with his own magic? The same uncle in whom the King placed his trust and followed that man's words as the absolute truth?
Who was Merlin to the King when he was compared to the King's Uncle?
'One more word out of you and I swear to God I will send you into exile.'
Merlin's courage fled and his stomach churned.
Who was Merlin if not just a servant?
What was nearly a decade of companionship, if it could be turned down, forgotten with one accusation?
Would it be worth it to walk up to the pyre after what he had done for the Kingdom? After how he had protected Arthur?
No.
Not this time.
This time, he was allowed to be selfish. Merlin did not want to see the betrayal and accusatory glances Arthur would throw at him after he confessed his magic.
Merlin wouldn't be able to bear to hear his friend ordering his death.
His hand dropped to his side. There was no knock.
He was not bold enough to knock on the door.
Despite all the power at his fingertips, Merlin was still a coward.
With a sigh, Merlin turned around and left the hallway of the King's chambers hiding away the tears at the corners of his eyes.
In an alcove a few feet away from the King's chambers, Arthur watched his friend's internal struggle to knock on the doors that he would usually barge in. He was surprised, but suppressed the urge to call out to the younger man when he walked away with a weight on his shoulders and defeat in his eyes. Arthur did not know why, but he had a feeling he had just missed an opportunity in his friend's life to open a door that he had never realised had been locked in the first place.
THE DOORS WILL BE OPENED TO THOSE WHO ARE BOLD ENOUGH TO KNOCK