Hola, everybody! :) Time for drabble five! Disclaimer: BBC owns all… yeah, shocked me too, I know…
Quick info: In this one, Arthur doesn't know Merlin has magic. Uther is dead, Arthur is king, and Gwen is Queen. No specific time, although Morgana is already evil, and Balinor and Freya are already dead.
Drabble 5- No Better Friend
Merlin grinned, drowning another drink in a single gulp. It certainly wasn't the first drink he'd had so far (and the knights and a certain king with him were well past their first drink as well) but he wasn't drunk. Not at all. What kind of all-powerful warlock got drunk? No, Merlin was not intoxicated. The room was just a bit blurry, and Merlin was feeling just a tad giddy for no apparent reason.
All right, fine. He was drunk. Very, very drunk as a matter of fact, and his companions were as far gone as he was.
"Did you see me take down two men at once?" Arthur crowed, a lopsided grin plastered across his face. That was their excuse for consuming so much ale- the recently won war. Normally Merlin didn't come along with the knights on these outing, but this time Gwaine had insisted.
"That wasn't as awesome as me beating a man while I was unarmed," Gwaine bragged, hiccupping slightly.
"I think even Merlin might have taken a man or two down," Leon said (who was considerably more sober than the others.)
"Merlin?" Arthur snorted in disbelief. "Please. Merlin couldn't take down a three-legged dog, let alone a armed soldier!" The other knights roared with laughter, so drunk that they never realized that their disbelief might offend Merlin.
Normally, Merlin would brush off their comments. He'd smile tightly and think; one day they'll know the truth. Normally, Merlin's common sense would stop him from saying anything too stupid.
However, Merlin wasn't normally drunk. Unfortunately for him, all the ale he'd drunk seemed to have buried his common sense, efficiently shutting it up. So this time, Merlin spoke up.
"I bet I took down more men than anyone here," he said loudly, trying to glare at Arthur. It's a little hard to glare when you're drunk, however, and Merlin ended up glaring at a spot just over Arthur's right shoulder.
"That'd be the day!" Arthur cried, roaring with laughter. Once again, the others joined in, and the very drunken Merlin simmered with indignation. He was telling the truth! He'd taken out practically three-fourths of the army, for gods' sake!
"I did!" Merlin insisted. "I'm always saving your lives- not that I get any credit! No, it's always, 'Poor Merlin! The boy really is a bumbling idiot, isn't he?'"
The thought of Merlin being some guardian angel was too much for the knights- Arthur laughed so hard his eyes watered up. Only Leon, the most sober in the group (which didn't really say much) hesitated. Something in Merlin's voice made him pause and turn over what the servant had said in his mind.
He did always emerge battle miraculously alive and relatively unharmed, and he was always present when the knights had an amazing, unexplainable victory. He didn't know how it was possible for one man to make such a difference, but with a jolt, Leon realized that maybe, just maybe, Merlin was telling the truth.
"Uh, Arthur-" the knight began, but was cut off by Gwaine.
"'Course you- hiccup- save our lives," Gwaine grinned. "You make that amazing- hiccup- soup on our- hiccup- quests!"
"That's not what I mean!" Merlin argued, his face growing red. "I can prove I fight as much as the rest of you!"
"Can you now?" Arthur smirked, taking another swing from his mug. "Go ahead, then. Prove it!"
"Arthur-" Leon tried again, but the loud approval from the other knights drowned out his voice.
"I will!" Merlin snapped, swaying slightly as he stood up and took of his jacket.
"Merlin, mate, what're you- hiccup- doing?" Gwaine asked.
"Showing you my scars," Merlin declared, pulling up one of his shirt sleeves.
"Scars?" Arthur snorted. "From what? Gathering firewoo…" The king trailed off as he saw Merlin's arm. The manservant's pale skin was had several long, pale white scars crisscrossing it. Definitely not from collecting firewood.
"How did you get those?" Arthur managed, the sight of the scars sobering him up, as well as the others, who also fell silent.
"I dunno," Merlin laughed, realizing Arthur believed him now. "Morgana, maybe? Or was this one from Morgouse? Hard to remember- too many scars. Oh! I know- did I get it when I tipped over the cup of life? No, that's not right…" The others stared at Merlin in muted shock as he mused to himself. Arthur, to his credit, felt like he was going to be sick. How many scars did his friend have?
"You think that one's bad! You should see the ones on my back!" Merlin laughed again, swaying dangerously. "And then there are the other scars… the ones you can't see…" Merlin sobered up, his eyes unfocused as he remembered something Arthur could only guess at. "Those hurt the worst," Merlin said softly. "The scars on my heart… my mind…" And on that note, Merlin finally passed out.
Merlin trudged toward Arthur's chambers, the king's breakfast balanced on his arm and his head pounding. After passing out from so much alcohol, Merlin wasn't feeling to great. To make it worse, he couldn't remember a thing from the previous night except for shocked and concerned faces of his companions.
For the love of Camelot, what did I say? Merlin wondered for what felt like the thousandth time as he reached Arthur's door. Not bothering to knock, Merlin walked right in, the "GOOD MORNING," dying on his tongue at the sight that greeted him.
Arthur was seated at his table, very awake and already dressed (Merlin wasn't sure what surprised him more- the fact that Arthur had woken up early, or the fact that the king could, in fact, dress himself.)
"You're up," Merlin said, stunned.
"Yes, Merlin, thank you. I hadn't noticed," Arthur said sarcastically, gesturing for Merlin to set his food down. The servant complied, shooting Arthur a confused look.
"Uh… why exactly are you up so early?"
"To talk to you," Arthur said easily, motioning for Merlin to sit down. Uh-oh, Merlin thought uneasily as he sat down. What on earth did I do this time?
"I've been thinking about what you said last night," Arthur began, making Merlin freeze, "and I think you have some explaining to do."
"Uh, actually, I don't remember what I said last night," Merlin admitted sheepishly.
"Let me refresh your memory, then," Arthur offered, the picture of helpfulness. "You said that you constantly saved my life… and that you'd been hurt multiple times in the process," Arthur continued, dead serious now.
"Oh," Merlin gulped. "Did I? Wow. I must have been really drunk. Guess I say some pretty wild stuff when-"
"Merlin," Arthur interrupted. "You showed me your scars."
"I did?" Merlin gaped. "All of them?!"
"Ah, yes, about that," Arthur said, "I need you to take off your shirt."
"What?"
"You said something about the scars on your back," Arthur explained impatiently. "So, I want to see them." At his words Merlin swore under his breath, looking uncomfortable.
"Arthur, I'm not going to-"
"Take. It. Off. Now." Arthur's tone of voice did not leave room for argument. Grumbling under his breath, Merlin pulled his shirt off.
"There. Happy?" Merlin grumbled, shooting a glare at his king. Said king, on the other hand, was staring at Merlin in horror. The man's chest was literally coated with every kind of scar imaginable. Scars from swords and knifes, burn scars- you name it, he had it.
"Good lord, Merlin! How on earth did you get all those?!" Arthur demanded.
"Uh…"
"Merlin…" Arthur said dangerously.
"Depends. Which one?"
"Any of them," Arthur said, looking at Merlin intently.
"Well," Merlin began slowly, resigned to explaining. "This one I got from Morgana, when she left me tied up in the woods. This one I got courtesy of Nimueh, and that one…" the servant trailed off when he noticed the look on his master's face. "Arthur? Are you ok?"
"How did I never notice how often you were injured?" Arthur muttered, more to himself than to Merlin.
"You've been busy," Merlin said uncomfortably as he slipped his shirt back on.
"That's no excuse," Arthur snapped, looking frustrated. "What else have I missed?"
"What do you mean?"
"Last night- you said you'd been hurt in more ways than one," Arthur explained lamely. Merlin got the message, though. His face immediately paled.
"I said that?"
"Yes."
"Oh, gods," Merlin cursed. "I really shouldn't have said that. Arthur, it's no big deal. Just stuff here and there, you know-"
"No, I don't know," Arthur snapped impatiently. "That's why you're going to tell me."
"But-"
"Merlin!" Arthur cried.
"Why do you want to know so badly?" Merlin retorted, desperate to avoid the topic. Arthur hesitated. He couldn't say the truth- because you're my friend and I want to know what you've been through. So he said the next best thing.
"I want to make sure the crown hasn't ever wronged you," Arthur said, expecting Merlin to deny it. When Merlin remained silent, looking like he might be sick, Arthur felt his stomach knot in worry.
"Merlin," Arthur said slowly, feeling uneasy. "I- I mean, the crown- hasn't ever wronged you, has it?"
"Not intentionally," Merlin said, so softly Arthur almost missed it. Almost.
Oh no.
"What happened?" Arthur chocked out. "I need to know," Arthur said (and no, it didn't sound suspiciously like he was begging) when Merlin hesitated.
"Well," Merlin began slowly, like he was trying to find the best way to word something. "My father was, uh, chased by a knight-"
"I thought you never knew your father," Arthur interrupted.
"I didn't. Well, I did meet him, but only briefly. He had to leave us to escape Uth- I mean, the knight." It was too late, though- Arthur had heard his friend's slip up.
"My father ran him out?" Arthur asked, his voice too quiet. Merlin's silence was all the answer he needed.
"What else?" He choked out. Some part of him needed to know what his friend had endured, even though it hurt. "Have," Arthur broke off, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Have I ever done anything?"
Silence. Then:
"You didn't know. I don't blame you."
"Blame me for what?" Arthur asked, almost desperately.
"I really don't think this is a good idea-"
"Merlin, tell me. Please." There. Arthur had said it. The p-word. Merlin looked stunned, but eventually complied (although very reluctantly.)
"A while back, there was this girl," Merlin said softly, staring at the ground intently. Arthur was dumbstruck. How had he missed his friend falling in love?
"Her name was Freya," Merlin continued, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "She was beautiful, Arthur. She had the prettiest eyes…" He trailed off, lost in memory.
"What happened to her?" Arthur forced himself to ask.
"She… she was cursed," Merlin chocked out. "And a knight killed her trying to defend his people."
Horror coursed through Arthur's veins as he recalled Merlin's words.
You didn't know. I don't blame you.
Arthur thought he might be sick.
"Merlin… I didn't… did I…" He asked, not sure how to voice the question.
"I don't blame you, Arthur," Merlin repeated softly.
Oh gods, no. He had killed Freya. Oh no. He couldn't even imagine how he'd feel if someone killed Gwen.
Why didn't Merlin hate him? He should hate him!
"Merlin…" Arthur trailed off. What was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry I killed your only love. Somehow, the king doubted that would help very much.
In the end, he said, "Why do you stay?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you stay?" Arthur repeated. "After what you've been through… why don't you leave?"
"Because you're my friend, Arthur," Merlin said honestly. "And I believe in the future you're going to build."
The answer was short, but it spoke measures.
Arthur really could have no better friend.
Ok… did this drabble leave anyone else feeling depressed? It did for me :/ I'll try to make the next one funny- suggestions are welcome! Until next time! (Oh, and happy early Labor Day!)