Author's Note: Just so you know, I am not naturally attracted to slash. In fact, I avoid it most of the time. But this fandom, if I don't multiship basically everyone, what am I to do? First time writing slash. So, yeah. And it doesn't really count as real slash. More pre-slash. Anyways, hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or anything associated with it.
When All's Right in the World
by Katako-Chan
Merlin wonders when it all went wrong.
Maybe it began when he stopped seeking out the Dragon, knowing his destiny but shaping and achieving it with his own two hands.
Or maybe, he thinks, it began when he realized, one day, that he couldn't hate Arthur. He'd been walking through the corridors with an armload of smelly prat clothes when it had dawned on him. He'd almost expected time to stop dramatically and unexplainable glowing lights to appear. But nothing happened. People kept walking; he kept walking. It just came and felt right and completed his world in ways he couldn't describe.
Merlin doesn't want to think that Morgana or Gwen played a hand in their falling down. The little voice in the back of his head points fingers at them both, at all of them, but he can't bring himself to acknowledge their part. They both lead such sad lives now, and he feels like his heart would break if he let his accusations come to pass. But, still, the voice seethes and pokes at Morgana's visions and increased hysteria; Gwen grasping fame in a pure, simple way and then throwing it all down (not on purpose, he reminds himself).
He'd give everything for the days when things were easy again: when Arthur and Morgana bickered and he and Gwen looked amused. When the four of them would save lives and go on adventures, as ridiculous as it sounded, and they all knew each other inside and out, but some more than others. When they understood what happened between them: what was left unsaid.
But then, he sees Arthur upon the throne and is torn. Would he throw away all of this now for all of that then? No. Yes. No. He desperately wants things to be simple again yet relishes in the present, somehow. He knows it's wrong, and some days it breaks him in ways he doesn't completely understand. Some days, he remembers Morgana, now gone, and sees Gwen as more than the living ghost she's becoming and then everything just breaks.
And he cries, because things will never be the same.
And then Arthur, beautiful Arthur, beloved King Arthur, plain old pratty Arthur comes and comforts: holds him close and tight until the tears run dry, kissing away the wet droplets upon his cheeks. And when his breathing calms to slow, sorrowful gasping he leans back a little and takes Arthur in.
He is beautiful. A different Arthur now, but still the same. The same soft, soft blond hair and square jaw perfect for planting kisses under. He is older, because they all are, and his eyes are tired, but underneath Merlin knows there's a fire of passion. Here is where the unexplainable magical forces chose to lavish their glowing splendor: upon the King who freed them.
Their world is falling apart, and they both know it. Camelot crumbles as they stare hard at each other. But then Arthur kisses him hard and soft and angry and loving and everything is right.