A Criminal's Burial
Chapter 18
Arthur had been so engrossed in the latest report from Southron that he did not hear Merlin slip into his chambers. Though he was not surprised Merlin had chosen to come to his chambers now that he was free to leave his quarters, he was surprised by Merlin's sudden, insane desire to clean—for once.
"What are you doing?" Arthur asked as he slid back in his chair.
Merlin did not look up at him as he said, "Cleaning."
Worried at the sight of Merlin shakily smoothing over the same part of his bed, Arthur stood and closed the gap between them. "Why?" Arthur asked, concern cut clear in his voice. Though the two had not precisely talked about what Merlin's role should be in Camelot, he thought it was apparent that he had not intended for Merlin to return to being his manservant.
When Merlin did not answer him, Arthur grabbed one of his wrists to stop him. Merlin snapped his attention to the king and wrenched his arm out of Arthur's grasp, his expression wild and distraught.
"Why?" Arthur asked, his tone softer this time.
Merlin shook his head and stared down at Arthur's still unmade bed. "I just need something normal right now," he replied and started smoothing out the next section.
"You know, you don't have to do this anymore. You do know that, right?" Arthur asked.
Merlin paused for a moment before he began smoothing out the next adjoining section. "I just need something normal right now," Merlin repeated. Voice barely above a whisper, he added, "Can I just have that right now, please?"
Arthur swallowed and looked at Merlin's trembling hands with a furrowed brow. It was the "please" that put a lump in his throat. Feeling tears prick in his eyes, Arthur asked, "Did someone attack you outside?" He had been concerned about letting Merlin go unaccompanied in public, despite Merlin swearing that he would be fine.
Merlin shook his head 'no' and started fluffing one of Arthur's pillows.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Arthur asked, "Is this…helping?"
Merlin nodded, though he didn't verbally respond.
Sighing, Arthur shook his head and returned back to his desk, where he still watched Merlin fuss over making his bed. "There's a basket of laundry on the floor near the wardrobe," Arthur supplied.
"Thank you," Merlin said, voice so low that Arthur nearly missed it.
Arthur returned his attention to the report from Southron, but he could not read more than a few words without glancing back up at his servant, whose nervous energy was now consuming him, too. Eventually, he gave up reading the letter and watched Merlin flit about the room, his head hung low as he completed chores that had been neglected in the previous weeks. Though Arthur very well could have gotten a new manservant, he did not feel like replacing Merlin quite yet, nor did he want to deal with someone new in his chambers when he was already up to his neck in work. Gwen had helped him tidy up a bit, but a lot of the minor tasks like dusting and sweeping went on incomplete.
It did not take long before Merlin visibly slowed down, likely exhausted from all the physical activity. When Merlin leaned heavily against one of his bedposts, Arthur stood and walked towards him.
"Come on, Merlin. Let's go back to your room," Arthur suggested as he gently touched Merlin's back to lead him towards the door.
Merlin glanced up at him, eyes reflecting his gratitude for the escort. Surely no one would bother him with the king at his side.
As the two walked out into the halls, Arthur's hand still on the small of Merlin's back, Arthur could see that all eyes were on Merlin. Though no one commented as they passed, Arthur figured this was likely the reason Merlin was so upset.
When they arrived within view of the door to the physician's quarters, Arthur felt Merlin relax. Arthur opened the door for Merlin and gently pushed him inside. Gaius, who was preparing some potion or another, looked up and quirked an eyebrow at the pair, but returned to his work when Arthur started for the stairs to Merlin's bedroom.
Arthur followed Merlin as the younger man slowly climbed the stairs, his hand white knuckled on the banister as he ascended. Merlin opened the door, stepped inside his room, and exhaled at the sight of his bed.
Hanging in the doorway, Arthur watched as Merlin untied his cloak and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. When Merlin sat on the edge of his bed and began pulling off his new boots, he looked up at Arthur and smiled faintly.
Arthur returned the smile, and Merlin did not bother to undress further before turning to lay on his bed facing away from Arthur.
Before leaving, Arthur reassured, "It will be better tomorrow."
As he heard the door close behind the king, Merlin was not sure if he believed him.
By the time that Arthur finished his work, it was already well into the night. Stifling a yawn, Arthur set off on what had become his nightly pilgrimage to the physician's chambers. Though he hoped that Merlin was still sleeping, he thought it was more likely that he would find Merlin staring up at the ceiling in the dark, just like he usually found him when he visited late at night.
Before he left the physician's chambers this morning, Arthur spoke with Gaius about Merlin's unexpected behavior. Both of them assumed that it was a direct result of the last couple months of trauma, but neither were precisely sure about how to help him. Despite Merlin's best efforts to hide his melancholy with jokes and fake smiles, everyone had noticed a change in him. While Gwaine, Percival, and Gwen generally went along with it, primarily selecting only banal topics to give Merlin some reprieve, it was getting harder for Arthur to pretend like everything was alright.
Arthur had grown accustomed to watching Merlin's expressions, looking for the slightest slip up before Merlin caught himself and smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He often thought about how practiced a liar Merlin must have been, hiding his magic for so long, and how much he must be hurting to do such a poor job of it now.
Besides Gaius, whom Merlin was surprisingly guarded around, Arthur was the only one who had consistently seen a more vulnerable side of Merlin. By spending several nights in the last few weeks crammed in Merlin's small bed, he had seen Merlin experience night terrors firsthand. He knew that if he was frightened by them, a scream or a thrash startling him awake in the dead of night, he could only imagine how horrible they were for Merlin. It was not the first time that Arthur had seen a man, particularly after a fight or battle, be tormented by those memories, but Merlin had by far the worst case he had ever seen.
Amongst the knights, it was fairly standard for them to pretend nothing had occurred, and without much conversation, the person with those terrors typically spent a few months on light duty. Some never went back to being a knight. Some never made it back at all.
Arthur was still worried that Merlin might not make it back at all.
Finally at the physician's chambers, Arthur opened the door and let himself in. Gaius was cleaning the small pot he used to boil certain ingredients, and upon seeing the king enter, he quirked an eyebrow at him. "Am I correct to assume that Merlin did not, in fact, go to your chambers about two hours ago?" Gaius supposed as he placed the pot back on his workbench.
"He said he was going to my chambers?" Arthur asked, eyes wide.
Gaius dropped his cleaning rag on the table next to the pot. Sweeping his hair back, the old physician shook his head into his hand.
"Why would he lie? Unless you think…" Arthur said, already fearing the worst.
"—Somebody stopped him? No, I don't think so," Gaius said with a certainty that Arthur wished he could muster.
Wiping his sweaty palms on the bottom of his jacket, Arthur continued, "You don't think he would…hurt himself, do you?"
Gaius shook his head again and answered, "I don't think he could, even if he tried."
Again, Arthur wished he could be so sure. "Why do you think he left then?"
"Probably to take a walk," Gaius replied. "He has been talking about getting some fresh air for days."
"Why would he lie?" Arthur asked again.
"Probably so I wouldn't worry," Gaius replied with a sigh. He knew his constant worrying was frustrating Merlin, but it was hard for him to curb the concern, especially after what had happened with his stab wound.
Arthur pursed his lips and nodded. He was not sure when his heart had started to beat so quickly, but it was now thumping in his ears. "I'm going to go find him," Arthur said as he turned back towards the door.
"I think that would be wise, Sire," Gaius said as he picked up his cloth to resume cleaning his pot. "Please send word when you do," the old physician requested. Though he was still a bit worried about Merlin, he knew his old bones would not be able get around quickly enough to be of much help.
"Of course," Arthur said as he closed the door behind him. Looking around the corridor, Arthur tried to remember where the nearest guards were stationed. Mentally kicking himself for not stationing guards closer to the physician's quarters for situations as predictable as this one should have been, Arthur speed walked to the nearest posted guards. Of course, they had not seen Merlin this evening, and Arthur had to expand his search.
After what felt like manically asking nearly every guard in Camelot if they had seen his wayward warlock, Arthur finally learned that Merlin had walked out of the castle, through the market, and eventually out the southern gate of the citadel. In that moment, Arthur knew precisely where Merlin had gone.
As Arthur looked towards the new hill on Camelot's landscape, he could faintly see a lone figure, sitting on top of the hill in the moonlight. Arthur asked one of the guards to inform Gaius that he had found him, and he set off outside Camelot's walls.
It did not take him long to traverse the distance between the gate and the hill. Funny, how the distance seemed so short in hindsight; it felt like he had been running forever to reach Merlin on that day. As Arthur drew nearer, he could clearly see Merlin sitting alone on the peak of the hill, slouching against his knees and blankly staring towards the citadel walls.
When Merlin realized Arthur had found him, he glanced up at him and straightened his posture.
"Hey," Arthur greeted, sitting on the ground next to him.
As Arthur leaned his shoulder against him, Merlin internally chuckled. Arthur never did give him any space these days.
"Are you ever going to stop worrying about where I go?" Merlin asked with a laugh.
"Probably not—especially now that I know what you get up to when you're alone," Arthur attempted to joke, but his delivery fell flat.
When Merlin turned his head to face him, Arthur saw something viscous trickling down from Merlin's hairline, where his gash had mostly healed. "Are you okay?" Arthur asked, hand immediately reaching out to tilt Merlin's head so he could get a better view.
Allowing the king to angle his face, Merlin admitted, "Tomato" as Arthur went to swipe at the substance.
Arthur's hand returned to his own knee as he leaned back to get a fuller view of the warlock. "Someone threw a tomato at you?"
"Yeah," Merlin confirmed, reaching up to pluck some of the pulp out of his hair.
"Who?" Arthur asked curtly.
"I don't know—it was just some man," Merlin began, shaking his head to loosen what had congealed in his hair. "Another man—a merchant, I think—saw what he did and punched him, though. Before he could get another blow in, I told him to leave it be."
More of Camelot's citizens protecting magic users. Arthur was glad that this protection seemed to extend to Merlin as well. "Did he?"
"He did," Merlin replied and resumed with a defeated laugh, "The man who threw the tomato looked absolutely shocked that I let him go."
"Why did you let him go?" Arthur wondered aloud.
Merlin shrugged. "If these people are so afraid of magic, I think it's probably best I don't give them any real reason to fear me. Besides, it was just a tomato, a fresh one at that. I've had worse thrown at me," Merlin finished with a laugh, recalling all of the times he wound up in the stocks for some reason or another as he picked tomato from his hair.
Arthur chuckled as well. Despite the fact that he now felt a bit bad for sending Merlin to the stocks so often, his servant did often ham it up when he was there.
The warlock sighed, good mood fleeting as quickly as it came. "I don't know…I also don't think he even thought through what could happen after throwing a tomato at, well, me," Merlin finished, gesturing to the field of death surrounding them.
"Why are you up here?" Arthur asked as he brushed Merlin's hand aside and plucked the tomato out of his hair in the meager moonlight.
"I know it's not the best image…" Merlin trailed off, clenching the loose fabric of his thin cloak with his hands. "I'm sure I'll hear some story tomorrow about how I went to relish in my victory or something."
"We both know that's not true, Merlin," Arthur assured as he removed the very last of the tomato from Merlin's hair. "Why are you really out here?"
While Arthur gently wiped his forehead with the end of his sleeve, Merlin explained, "I just felt that I needed to come confront what I did." Merlin paused, and Arthur combed Merlin's hair with his fingers. Before Arthur returned to sitting directly next to Merlin, he noticed the man was missing his signature neckerchief, though he was certain Merlin had a spare. "There's grass," Merlin remarked absently, running his hand over the fresh blades of grass sprouting on the hill beneath them. The crack was still visible, but it was partially obscured by the new growth. "It's bigger than I thought it was—that's why I wanted to come up here: to see how big it was."
Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's knee, and Merlin took that hand into one of his own. The warlock took another moment to appraise the destruction he wrought. "It's also a lot closer to Camelot's walls than I thought it was," Merlin observed, mentally counting how many more steps it would have taken to reach the citadel. It wasn't many. "I think the distance helps me justify it, but I still did it." Merlin's voice broke, and he covered his face with his spare hand.
Squeezing the younger man's hand, Arthur said, "I don't know what else you could have done, and you did try to warn them. Twice."
Merlin shook his head into his free hand. "The problem is that I did do it, that I even could do it." Lip quavering, the warlock elaborated, "I see their faces"—Merlin closed his eyes and pulled away from Arthur to pat the ground beneath him—"Almost every night. I see them falling, their faces frozen with shock and fear as they toppled in waves to their death. I can't stop thinking about how scared they must have been," Merlin finished with a sob. Knees hugged to his chest, Merlin buried his head against his knees and wept.
Arthur gently rubbed circles on Merlin's back. While he was immensely thankful that Merlin had done what he had done, Arthur wished Merlin that did not have to go that far for his own sake. Of course he was devastated—only a monster wouldn't be—and Merlin was still Merlin, inconceivable power or not.
"I can't—I can't…" Merlin trailed off without completing his sentence, sobs still wracking his body. Sniffling, he tried again, "I can't stop thinking about"—Merlin's voice warbled—"the ones who didn't d-die right away, how long th-they were there." Shaking his head into his knees, he took a deep breath and continued, "How they were just…crammed together, some already dead, some slowly suffocating, some crushed by the weight on top of them..."
Merlin paused, and Arthur pulled the warlock in close, his own face set in a deep frown. Fingers clasping the fabric of Arthur's shirt, Merlin cried into the king's shoulder.
The two stayed like that until Merlin released a shuddering breath and pulled away, wiping at his eyes. As Arthur watched on, Merlin returned to hugging his knees to his chest and rested his head on top of his knees, staring towards Camelot's walls. He sat in silence for a moment before continuing, "I know how scared I was, but I could get out. I got out. They didn't."
Taking another deep breath, Merlin said, "And the ones who did get out—the ones who saw—I wonder how many of them are haunted by the memory, too. How many of them wake up at night, seeing their friends falling to their deaths…How many returned home without their friends. How many people stood outside their homes, waiting for their husbands, fathers, sons, brothers to come home, only for no one to come."
"It's unfortunate, but such is war," Arthur supplied. "If it wasn't you, they could have been struck down by any one of us."
Merlin glanced at the king and shook his head. "But they weren't, and it was me," Merlin stressed. "You've also never killed hundreds in a battle."
"Perhaps not," Arthur conceded. "But anyone who dies in service to Camelot—their blood is on my hands."
Though Merlin did not think it was the same, he asked, "How do you deal with it?" Waiting for an answer, the warlock turned to face the king.
Arthur weakly smiled and explained, "I think about how many more would have died had it not been for their sacrifice, and I hope that they died for something worthwhile. I try not to send my men on meaningless missions, selfishly in pursuit of personal gain. That's what Helios did."
Merlin pursed his lips, but retained eye contact as the king elaborated, "Reports from Southron say the people mostly blame Helios for leading them into a pointless battle in the first place. They know you gave them ample opportunity to flee, and they largely blame Helios for marching them towards their deaths regardless."
The warlock glanced down at his hands and said, "They shouldn't."
"But they do," Arthur insisted. "The people of Southron want to join Camelot."
That got Merlin's attention. "What? Why?"
"They didn't like how Helios ruled," the king said with a shrug. "The resentment was already building amongst the common people, and this battle was just the final straw. The most devoted to Helios were the ones who stayed on the battlefield, and well, they returned with significantly fewer of those people."
Merlin frowned, but remained silent as the king continued, "Merlin, I cannot even begin to guess how many people would have died on that day if you didn't do"—Arthur waved his arm around the mass grave around them—"this. You didn't sacrifice your life"—Merlin sucked in a breath—"But you sacrificed a part of yourself to save each and every one of those people."
Merlin nodded in agreement. He had sacrificed a part of himself that day, a part of himself he still feared he would never be able to get back.
The king looked at Merlin and sighed. Here was his servant, still hunched over, still trying to hold himself together like he had the first night he returned to Camelot. Here was a man who would do—and had done—anything for him, even things that crushed his spirit, things that he shouldn't have had to do in the first place.
"But that wasn't your responsibility, Merlin. It's never been your responsibility. It's my responsibility, and I failed Camelot that day." Arthur paused and looked Merlin dead in the eyes. "I failed you that day," he finished, voice softer.
"What? No—"
"—Yes, Merlin. I know you always seem to forget that I'm the king." Merlin huffed a laugh as Arthur continued, "But Camelot and her people are my responsibility. Agravaine and Morgana were planning this for months right under my nose. Had there not been some absolutely insane, pesky servant with incredible—and highly illegal—power, who, mind you, not only spent the last five years under my nose, but was constantly underfoot"—Merlin smiled—"Camelot would have fallen that day, and it would have been my fault. It is my fault that it nearly did."
Merlin's face fell, and Arthur reached a hand out towards the warlock. Though he was still curled over himself, Merlin readily accepted his hand.
"You did what I should have done that day—"
"—Use 'incredible and highly illegal' magic?" Merlin interrupted with nervous laughter.
"No, you protected Camelot. You did what a king should do. You did what I should have done," Arthur said, punctuating his points with small shakes of Merlin's hand. Feeling tears prick at his eyes, he apologized, "And I am so sorry that you had to do something horrible to compensate for my failure." Bending forward at the waist, the king leaned his forehead onto the top of Merlin's hand. "I am sorry that you have to live with that because I failed to protect you."
Merlin looked down at Arthur's head, bowed in penance. He never imagined that he would see his king in such a position before him. Straightening out his legs, Merlin used his free hand to wipe away the new tears that were flowing down his cheeks. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. We share a destiny, Arthur. We're supposed to compensate for each other's weaknesses—and our failures," Merlin said as he placed his hand on top of Arthur's head.
Arthur lifted his head, and Merlin's hand slid back down to hold the king's hand with both of his own. Stray tears sliding down his cheeks, Arthur said, "I know you were the one who physically did this, but please, whenever you blame yourself, blame me, too."
Merlin frowned, but he nodded with affirmation. "Okay."
Wiping at his own face, the king continued, "I don't want you to lose more of yourself to protect me."
"You know I can't promise you that, Arthur," Merlin said, his voice low with remorse. Though the king looked crestfallen, the warlock asked, "Do you know what terrifies me the most about all of this?"
"What?"
"That I would do it all over again if I had to," Merlin admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Taking a deep breath, he pulled away from Arthur and looked around once more, the scene illuminated only by moonlight. Merlin gazed up at the full moon above them; it had only been about five weeks since he fled from Lord Staunton's lands, yet so much had changed in the last month.
Merlin's admission made Arthur's chest hurt; he wished Merlin would prioritize himself first, but the king was not sure if he would ever be able to convince Merlin to do so. "Just know I will never ask that of you," Arthur reassured.
"Thank you," Merlin said softly. Though he was certain that Arthur was not the kind of king that would exploit Merlin's power, it was nevertheless reassuring to hear. With a light chuckle, he added, "Good. We're supposed to unite Albion, not conquer it."
The thought of using Merlin to raze kingdoms for him sickened him. "I would never ask that of you," Arthur repeated, voice full of conviction. "I would never want to do that to you."
Merlin nodded and once again drew his knees to his chest. It was getting colder, and he could see his breath in the air. As he relived the loss of his favorite coat, Merlin wished that he had at least sucked it up and worn his neckerchief despite the discomfort. "At least I don't think anyone will be attacking us any time soon…I think I sent a clear enough message about that."
"I think it will be quiet for a while," Arthur agreed, though he had given considerable thought to the kind of attacks he was expecting to encounter. "But if we are attacked, I think they would try to get you out of the way first."
"Yeah, probably," Merlin replied with a flat tone. That's what he would do. "At least it's hard to get rid of me," Merlin concluded with a shrug. Pulling his threadbare cloak around himself, the warlock settled his head on top of his knees.
While he felt that Merlin was technically correct—he had seemed to have beaten all of the odds to survive—Arthur still was not entirely convinced Merlin was safe in Camelot. "Just today, someone threw a tomato at you. Aren't you concerned that it could have been worse?"
"A tomato in the market is hardly suspicious. Besides, being outside for the first time since all of this is just…overwhelming," Merlin shared, now shivering in his cloak.
"Are you cold?" Arthur asked.
"A little."
"Should we go back inside?"
Merlin shook his head and said, "No." Shivering or not, he was not quite ready to leave yet.
Rolling his eyes, Arthur started untying his own cloak.
"What are you doing?" Merlin asked.
"Giving you my cloak, dummy"—Arthur pulled his cloak off of his shoulders and draped it over Merlin—"You are not allowed to get sick."
"But then you'll be cold," Merlin objected.
"I still have my coat," Arthur reassured as he pulled on his collar, internally adding that he actually had meat on his own bones. "We really need to get you better clothes."
Accepting Arthur's cloak, Merlin wrapped it around himself as well, instantly feeling warmer from Arthur's lingering body heat. "What? I like the way I dress." Though Merlin had lost his coat, he was intending on replacing it with one just like it.
Arthur laughed. If Merlin was anything, it was stubborn. "Fine, but you need some things that aren't threadbare." While Merlin grumbled under his breath, Arthur concluded, "Besides, you're going to need something nicer to wear in court."
"In court?" Merlin parroted with wide eyes.
"Did you really think you were going to stay my servant?" the king asked, amused by Merlin's surprise. "I would like you to serve as an advisor, Merlin."
"Why?" the warlock couldn't help but ask, doubt cut clear in his voice.
"I trust your judgement," Arthur began, intently watching Merlin, who was staring at him, still as a stone. Shaking his head, he continued, "I probably should have always trusted your judgement. I doubt we would be here"—Arthur gestured around them—"if I had trusted it sooner. You have more than proven your loyalty, and I would consider you to be one of my dearest friends."
Huddling in Arthur's Pendragon red cloak, Merlin said, "Please don't make me cry."
Arthur laughed, teasing, "I don't think that's too hard to do these days." Merlin smiled, and the king continued, "Not to mention the fact that I know precisely nothing about magic beyond about thirty years of 'magic bad.'"
When the warlock did not respond, Arthur nudged him with his shoulder and pressed, "So, what do you say?"
"Sounds boring," Merlin said, laughing.
Arthur snorted, hand flying up to cover his nose as it happened, and Merlin laughed harder. He relished in how good it felt to laugh.
"Well, I could always make you the court jester, but I don't think anyone would notice much of a difference," Arthur ribbed with a wide grin.
Merlin curled into his knees and shook with laughter until tears pricked his eyes. "I literally just told you to not make me cry."
"Too bad," Arthur said, feeling lighter watching Merlin laugh—actually laugh. None of that canned laughter he frequently heard over that last month. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he waited to speak until Merlin ended with a few chuckles and reemerged to look at him. "But, yes, being an advisor is probably boring. Being the king certainly can be boring"—Arthur thought of the crop yield reports and internally groaned—"I also think it might be best if we left the adventuring to the younger knights for now…So what do you say? Want to be bored together?"
Merlin smiled at him, but did not say anything. Arthur knew there was something that was making him feel uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"
"It's just…a lot." Merlin paused and glanced up at Arthur, who was still carefully watching him. "Like today, it felt like I couldn't take five steps without someone talking to me, or thanking me, or calling me a 'hero' or a 'savior.' And I hate it."
When Arthur did not say anything, Merlin elaborated, "Every time I hear it, I see this"—Merlin gestured around him—"And their faces, their families, everything." Exhaling with grief, Merlin paused and looked at Arthur, who smiled weakly at him. "I understand why people are so thankful, but it's hard being constantly reminded of the worst thing I've ever done in my entire life."
Merlin planted his face into his knees, and Arthur wrapped an arm around him to gently rub his back. Voice tight, Merlin continued, "And I don't want to be rude to them because I don't want people to think badly of magic solely because of my behavior, but I also don't want to seem like I'm proud of what I did because I'm not. I'm really not." After a short pause, Merlin concluded with a small voice, "What I did was horrific, not heroic."
Pulling Merlin in closer, Arthur sighed. "Look, Merlin, I'm not going to argue with you. This was objectively horrific"—the king felt the warlock tense up—"But because this was the only feasible solution, it just emphasized just how close Camelot was to falling. I know you don't feel like a hero, but that doesn't mean you aren't one to our people."
"Thanks," Merlin said flatly, knowing that the reminder would likely still haunt him every time someone brought it up.
Noticing Merlin's reticence, Arthur asked, "Do you know how many times I came back from a quest after making poor decisions that got people killed, and the people still celebrated my victory?" Merlin shook his head into his knees, and the king continued, "It was a lot. I don't even know how many times I've come home, knowing I didn't deserve any praise, yet I received it anyway. Even if I disagreed, they would insist. I had to learn that even when I felt like a catastrophic failure, the furthest thing away from a hero, that didn't stop the people from regarding me as one."
Merlin's lips thinned, and he took a bracing, shuddering breath in. "How did you deal with it?" he asked as he scooted back to get a better view of the king.
"I just said, 'thank you' and moved on with my day," Arthur replied. "That didn't mean the reminder didn't hurt, but I knew they would eventually stop congratulating me—unless Father held a feast."
Merlin's face fell into mortification. "Please don't throw me a feast."
Arthur laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"Thank you," Merlin said.
"There you go," Arthur encouraged. Merlin looked at him with a faint smile, but seeing the dissatisfaction that lingered on Merlin's face, Arthur gently reminded the younger man, "Merlin, people will stop talking about it, I promise. Just keep telling yourself that."
"Okay," Merlin replied, still not entirely convinced. "But no one used to pay any attention to me. Now, I can't even walk down the hall without people talking to me, let alone looking at me."
"I know it's not what you want to hear, but people will probably stop looking at you with time." Chuckling, Arthur added, "I'm the king, and most of the servants barely bat an eye when I pass in the halls."
Merlin chuckled and joked, "That's just because you like insubordinate servants."
Arthur laughed, maybe there was some truth to that. His father never would have tolerated such behavior from the servants, but Arthur couldn't find it in himself to care. He felt confident enough in his position as king that he didn't feel the need for constant validation of his station.
Sighing, Merlin briefly debated sharing his next thought, "I don't know…I just had to hide for so long, and I don't know how to feel now that I don't—no that I can't—anymore."
"You feel vulnerable," Arthur surmised.
"Yeah," Merlin breathed. "Not like, physically"—Merlin looked over at Arthur, eyes insistent that he not press him on that matter—"It's just…"
"A lot," Arthur finished.
"Yeah," Merlin agreed. "You know, I survived for so long because nobody paid attention to me, but now…" Merlin shook his head, knowing that it did not entirely make sense. "I know that I don't have to anymore, but it just goes against every instinct I have."
Though Merlin's admission saddened him, Arthur bumped into Merlin's side and reassured, "I'm sure once everyone gets it out of their systems, they'll go back to ignoring you. Besides, today was only your first day out and about. I think the people are just happy to see you're alive."
"A lot of them said they were glad that I recovered," Merlin added, mostly to himself. Not everyone had thanked him or called him a hero; a lot of people had just expressed concern for his wellbeing. While he still felt uncomfortable when people were concerned about him, Merlin would prefer that over being thanked. Laughing, the warlock said, "I don't know, I think I still prefer the tomato man."
Arthur knew Merlin was not joking. "Why?" he asked, tone serious as he eyed the younger man.
Merlin exhaled and pulled his knees in closer to himself. "I think there's still a part of me that feels so guilty for lying and hiding my magic for so long. And there's another part of me that sort of…feels ashamed? About my magic." Merlin paused and watched Arthur quirk an eyebrow at him. "I think I just hid it for so long that I somehow built it up as something that should be hidden." Shaking his head, Merlin concluded, "I know it doesn't make any sense."
"No, I think I kind of understand. People don't tend to hide the things they're proud of."
"Exactly," Merlin breathed. "And I know magic isn't bad, but it doesn't help that the only reason everyone knows is because I did something bad with magic. Except it feels like no one but me thinks what I did was wrong." Huffing a laugh, Merlin concluded, "It was the strangest relief, when that guy threw that tomato at me. It felt like someone was finally punishing me for what I did wrong."
"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur began, unsure precisely where to start. "Would you feel better if I threw you in the stocks?" the king suggested, knowing full well that he would not throw Merlin in the stocks.
Merlin laughed. "Maybe a little," he answered.
"I know you feel guilty for doing this," Arthur said, referring to the mass grave beneath them. "Do you feel guilty for lying to me all these years?"
"Yes," Merlin confirmed, nodding into his knees.
"And you feel like I should punish you for lying to me?" the king asked for clarification.
"Yes," Merlin confirmed again.
"Why do you think I should punish you for lying to me?"
Merlin briefly glanced back at him. "Because I lied to you," he replied as if it couldn't be more obvious. "For years. Until a few weeks ago, I lied to you every single day you knew me."
"Sure, you lied," Arthur agreed as he leaned back onto the hand opposite Merlin. "But it was never to hurt me. Far from it, actually."
"I know," Merlin said. "But knowing is not the same as believing."
Arthur sighed and threw his arm over Merlin's shoulders, and Merlin's posture slouched under the weight. "Well, try to believe it, Merlin. I am telling you right now that I am not mad at you for lying, and that I don't want you to keep feeling guilty about it. I want you to tell me if you're worried about things regarding me."
"Okay," Merlin said to the ground beneath them.
The two briefly sat in a pensive silence until Arthur asked, "Wait, is that why you asked what I was going to do to you when you first woke up? Because you felt guilty?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Merlin confirmed, and Arthur felt relieved. Merlin hadn't been scared of him. "I just…I don't know, expected you to at least yell at me or something." Scooting back, Merlin looked over at Arthur and said, "Weren't you mad at me? Aren't you mad at me?"
"I was," Arthur answered, though any shred of genuine anger towards his servant for lying had long passed.
"Why didn't you yell at me?" Merlin asked.
Arthur laughed, the answer seemed so obvious. "When you first put the barrier up, I was too worried that you were about to get yourself killed—again—to be angry. When the barrier fell, I was too worried that you had gotten yourself killed. Then, when you woke up two days later, I was too relieved that you even woke up to stay mad at you."
"Oh," Merlin muttered as he glanced down again.
"Yeah, 'oh.' I told you before that I felt more angry with myself—that's true, I do. I wished I was the kind of person you could have told sooner…I wished that I was the kind of person that Morgana could have told sooner," Arthur admitted, remembering what he said to Morgana's body before burying her.
"When you were mad, what were you mad about?" Merlin asked.
Arthur shook his head and laughed. "You really want me to yell at you, don't you?"
Merlin glanced up with a sly smile. "Maybe."
"Look, if you really want to be punished, I could put you in charge of the crop storage plans for the kingdom," Arthur said. That would be a win-win.
Merlin wrinkled his face. "Math? Ugh. I'll take the scolding, thank you."
Arthur laughed. He was never going to be able to pawn off that critically important but terribly boring job on anyone else. "Fine, you want to know why I was mad. I don't think I was able to feel angry until after I left the physician's quarters that night."
"Gaius told me that you stayed until he stitched me up," Merlin interjected. Gaius also told him that he thought Arthur was about to pass out on him, but Merlin knew he would never let that knowledge slip.
"I did. I was so worried that you were about to die that I probably stayed longer than I should have, since, you know, we had just been attacked on three fronts."
"Fair," Merlin said. Camelot was a lot more important than he was.
"At first, I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I think I was shocked more than anything, but I was more surprised about what you did than you having magic," Arthur said. It all seemed so obvious now.
"You didn't have any idea, did you?" Merlin asked.
Arthur laughed and answered, "I had no idea, absolutely none whatsoever. Even with all of the times someone accused you of using magic, I refused to believe it."
"Why?" Merlin wondered.
"That's a good question," Arthur started and paused for a minute to think. "I think part of it was because I sincerely thought magic was evil and that you were a good person. You couldn't possibly use magic if you were a good person. Then, I think there was a part of me that just didn't want to know. If I didn't know that you had magic, I wouldn't have to do anything about it."
Merlin accepted that answer and stated, "You know, pretty much everyone said that it didn't surprise them that I had magic."
"There was always something about you, Merlin," Arthur replied with a chuckle.
"Back to why you were mad at me," Merlin redirected.
"Fine, fine. At first, it did feel like you had betrayed me, but after what you did to protect us, it was nearly impossible for me to stay mad at you for that. That and the more I thought about you telling a younger me, the worse an idea it seemed. I was still mad at you, but it was mostly for being stupid."
Merlin sputtered into a laugh at Arthur's deadpan delivery.
"Seriously, Merlin, you—a profoundly powerful warlock, born with magic—come to Camelot of all places, where magic use is banned on penalty of death. Then you spend five whole years working directly under the prince, who could have literally executed you at any time. And over these five years, you used that magic constantly under his nose. I don't know if that makes you or me the stupidest person I know," Arthur finished with a laugh.
"I think we can probably tie on that one," Merlin answered, smiling that loonish smile that Arthur had missed.
"Anyway, I did yell at you, unless you've already forgotten," Arthur continued.
"When you caught me back from the speech…" Merlin confirmed. He did remember Arthur yelling at him; in fact, he thought about it often.
"Why was I mad at you?" Arthur asked, wondering what Merlin had gotten out of his lecture.
"Because I am, and I quote, 'A self-sacrificing idiot,' who has 'absolutely no regard for his life or heath,'" Merlin replied.
Arthur pursed his lips and added, "And why would I be angry about that?"
Merlin looked down and muttered, "Because you don't want me to get hurt or die."
"Because?" Arthur pressed.
"Because that would make you sad," Merlin admitted. That answer still slightly bewildered him; part of him never thought Arthur would care if he lived or died, despite years of evidence to the contrary.
Arthur sighed, already knowing the answer to his next question, "But you don't care about that, do you?"
Merlin's silence was telling.
"That is the only reason I'm still angry with you, Merlin. You insist on doing everything alone, even at great expense to yourself. I know you feel vulnerable, not having to hide anymore, but it just means that you don't have to be alone anymore. I know you have been doing everything alone for so long, but you don't have to anymore." Arthur paused before he added, "I don't want you to anymore."
Merlin didn't reply, and Arthur continued, "So every time you feel guilty for lying about the magic, remind yourself why I am actually mad at you." Though Merlin did not verbally respond, he leaned into Arthur's shoulder, and the king wrapped his arms around the disconcertingly thin man. Feeling himself start to tear up, Arthur's voice cracked as he said, "And I'm still so worried about you, Merlin."
"I know," Merlin whispered.
"And I'm not asking you to just be better. I know you try to pretend you are better, but I know you're not. Your smiles almost never reach your eyes, and you rarely actually eat your food," Arthur added, still upset that Merlin had been unable to put much weight back on. "You just push it around to make it look like you've eaten more than you have."
"I know," Merlin affirmed. "It's just…hard." Merlin still could not place why it was so hard, but it was.
"I know," Arthur said, voice softer. "I can't imagine just how hard this last month has been for you." Merlin's arms snaked around Arthur's midsection, and his hands gripped the back of his coat. "And I'm not asking you to get over it. I just…can you just try to take one more bite than you did the day before? I wish you would do it for yourself, but if you can't, can you please do it for me?"
Merlin worried the fabric of Arthur's coat as he listened to the tightness in the king's voice. "Okay," Merlin agreed, and he felt Arthur's body relax.
"And I don't want you to feel like you deserve to be punished. Or that you are bad. You aren't bad, Merlin."
Pulling away, Merlin raised his knees back up to his chest and huddled into himself, still wrapped in Arthur's cloak. Sniffling, he admitted, "It's hard not to feel like a monster."
"You're not a monster, Merlin," Arthur objected with a soft tone.
Merlin did not realize how much that statement would mean to him coming from Arthur until he said it. Burying his head into his knees, Merlin hugged his shins into himself. Arthur threw his arm over his shoulder, and Merlin leaned into the embrace.
"You're not a monster, Merlin," Arthur repeated.
Though Merlin still had a hard time believing it, he lifted his head and rested his chin against his knees. "It's still hard," Merlin admitted, and Arthur remained silent, unsure what to say next. "I liked it when Gwen or Gwaine and Percival would come to visit. We would play games and talk about nothing. It's nice just to feel normal, I guess. It's good to forget, even if it's just for a few minutes."
Arthur rubbed the side of Merlin's arm. "So what you're saying is I need to keep you busy?" the king half-joked.
"Yeah, that would probably be good," Merlin agreed. Having an idle mind had certainly not done him any good. "You know what was nice, though?" he asked.
"What?"
"Aldwin brought his kids to see me yesterday, and I don't know. It was nice to see magic through children's eyes. They were just so…amazed. I hadn't really felt that way about my magic since before," Merlin said, emphasizing the last word. He felt like this event had made him into an entirely separate person from the one he was before. "It was good to have that reminder, that magic can be beautiful."
Pulling his arm up to ruffle Merlin's shaggy hair, Arthur said, "Now you have the opportunity to show all of Albion that magic can be beautiful."
"Thanks," Merlin said with a faint smile, and Arthur lowered his hand back to around his shoulder.
"But you have to believe it first," Arthur concluded.
"I know," Merlin agreed, though he knew that he was not quite there yet. "You know what I never doubted? I never doubted that someday you would be a great king, Arthur."
Arthur laughed. "I don't think I will ever understand your faith in me."
"Neither will I," Merlin teased, and Arthur laughed again. "I know you're probably still mad at me for sneaking out to see your speech, but I'm still glad I did. I got to see the crowd buzz as you spoke, and I was just…so proud. I knew in that moment that 'someday' had come after all."
Arthur huffed a laugh at the praise. "I am still definitely mad at you"—Merlin laughed with no remorse—"But I am glad that you got to see it."
"Me too," Merlin said quietly, pausing for a moment before adding, "I think seeing it made me realize that I have focused on your part of the prophecy for so long that I never really thought about my own role within it."
"Did you think you would always be fixing things alone in the shadows?" Arthur asked, feeling a bit sad at the thought.
"Yeah," Merlin began, "I mean, I always intended to tell you. At some point. Probably. It was just—"
"—Hard?" Arthur interrupted.
"Yeah. I'm still sorry I never told you sooner," Merlin apologized, bumping the side of Arthur's chest with his bodyweight.
Arthur squeezed Merlin's shoulder. "And I'm still sorry I wasn't the person you could have told sooner."
"Thanks," Merlin breathed. Though Arthur had apologized several times, it was still a good affirmation that everything hadn't entirely been his own fault.
"I'm sorry that it had to come to this," Arthur said, glancing down again at their morbid seating choice.
"Yeah, me too," Merlin agreed, gently running his hand over the new grass that had started sprouting out of the crack that he had cleaved into the earth.
The two sat in silence for a moment before Merlin spoke again, "It's almost funny. I used to be so certain about the future—it was destined after all—but now that it's here, I don't know anymore."
Releasing Merlin's arm in favor of leaning back with his palms on the ground behind him, Arthur said, "And I feel like I'm just starting to get a grasp on it."
Merlin actually laughed this time. "Maybe we really are supposed to compensate for each other's shortcomings."
"Perhaps we are," Arthur mused. "Are you uncertain about the future or just your role in it?"
"Maybe the second one," Merlin admitted. "I think I spent so long just taking one day at a time that I didn't bother to make long-term plans. There's also a large part of me that never thought I'd ever get here, so I didn't spend much time thinking about what would happen if I did."
"Well," Arthur began, "You never did answer me, Merlin."
"What?"
"About being an advisor," Arthur answered, shaking his head.
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that," Arthur laughed. "So what do you say?"
Merlin shook his head and said, "I guess."
"You guess? Love the enthusiasm," Arthur teased. "Why not?"
"It's just…overwhelming," Merlin answered.
"It's not like we have to unite Albion tomorrow. We can take it just how you used to, one day at a time, one thing at a time," Arthur reassured and bumped into Merlin with his shoulder.
"Okay," Merlin agreed with a slight smile.
"Good," Arthur said, "You know, I've been planning on giving you your own chambers, for no reason other than how horrible your bed is."
Merlin laughed. "I'm sorry it doesn't meet your kingly standards."
"I don't know how it could meet any standards," Arthur ribbed, stretching his neck at the memory. Merlin chuckled, and Arthur continued, "It does feel weird, though, elevating your position—"
"—Gee, thanks," Merlin interrupted with a laugh.
"—When I feel like I should elevate Gwen's as well," Arthur finished with a pointed look at the warlock.
Merlin laughed, his eyes crinkling as he suggested, "Oh, I can definitely think of one way to do that."
Arthur could feel his cheeks beginning to flush. "You think?"
"I wasn't sure when she would be over losing Lancelot, but I think she's ready," Merlin explained, his conclusion supported by his not-so-secret gossiping old woman senses.
"And you don't think—"
"—She'd object? No, I really don't," Merlin verified with a laugh. He scooted back a bit to catch a better look of the king, but he couldn't see much with Arthur's head tilted down.
Fiddling with his hands, Arthur continued, "I wouldn't want to force her into anything, especially given my position."
Merlin quirked an eyebrow and laughed. "I don't think Gwen would let you force her into anything."
Arthur looked up and met Merlin's gaze. "You made her come with you that day."
"She went for the swords first!" Merlin exclaimed, emphasizing his claim with both hands.
"I didn't know that," Arthur said as he shook his head and chuckled. He knew that she had armed herself that day, but she didn't know that she was the first to do so. "That sounds right, though."
"That's because it is!" Merlin insisted.
Holding his hands up in surrender, Arthur said, "I believe you. I just…wouldn't want to ruin our friendship."
Merlin shrugged. "I don't think loving someone means you stop being friends."
Arthur looked over at Merlin's hunched figure, still wrapped in his cloak, and knew that statement was true. "Hey, when are you going to find someone?" Arthur joked, hoping to shift some of his embarrassment away from himself.
Merlin pulled his knees back up to his chest and looked over at him. "That's a question for another day," Merlin answered cryptically.
Arthur knew that Merlin could have meant that finding someone was not a priority of his, but that lilting sadness in his tone made him think Merlin might have lost someone.
When Merlin saw Arthur's face sour in response to his statement, Merlin attempted to lighten the mood. "Besides, when would I have the time—not when you take all of it," Merlin concluded with a laugh.
Arthur chuckled. Though a small, selfish part of him was secretly glad that he did not have to share Merlin with anyone else, he mostly wished that Merlin would live a little bit for himself. "Would you want to?" he asked.
Merlin paused before shaking his head. He sometimes felt like he wouldn't have a life without Arthur in it. "You're not getting rid of me that easily," Merlin settled on saying.
"At this rate, I don't think I could get rid of you, even if I tried," Arthur teased, despite the topic still feeling a bit sore. When Merlin looked down and remained silent, Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's back to rouse him. "Merlin?"
Merlin glanced over at Arthur and saw that his face was set in a deep frown, his brows creased together. Arthur watched Merlin visibly debate whether or not he should say something. After a minute of struggling, Merlin deflated and muttered, "I don't think I ever could leave you, Arthur."
Arthur knew that wasn't true, the statement instantly riling a slurry of anger and disappointment. Though he wished it wasn't true for literally any other reason, he knew Merlin would do anything for him, up to the point where he would leave him forever. "I wish I believed you," Arthur said with a sigh.
Merlin bumped into Arthur's side, leaning heavily against his sturdy frame, and murmured, "I'm sorry, Arthur."
After a few minutes, Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin's shoulder and held his head against his chest. Merlin could hear how quickly Arthur's heart was beating, and based on Arthur's fidgeting alone, Merlin knew that Arthur was mulling over what to say.
Sighing, Arthur released Merlin and scooted back to look at him. "If we're supposed to share a destiny, why are you so hellbent on being the only one who…" Arthur couldn't complete his thought, voice wavering into silence by the end.
"Is a self-sacrificing idiot?" Merlin supplied with a self-deprecating laugh.
"Yes!" Arthur cried. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Arthur added with exasperation, "Why?"
Merlin paused before answering, "You already know the answer, Arthur, and I know you don't like it."
Mouth set in an angry line, Arthur ground out, "Enlighten me. I want to hear it from your mouth."
Sighing, Merlin shook his head and replied, "Because you're the king, Arthur, and the people need their king. You matter more than I do."
Rolling his eyes, Arthur exclaimed, "You're so fucking stupid sometimes!"
Merlin frowned and looked away, but he didn't disagree.
"What if you matter to me, you stupid fucking idiot!" Arthur cried as he grabbed Merlin's arms to shake him. "What do I have to do or say to get that through your thick skull?!"
Merlin snapped his attention to Arthur, and he watched as the fury in Arthur's face melted into dismay when they made eye contact. Arthur's grasp on Merlin's arms loosened and eventually slid down to the ground, where his hands balled into fists. Head falling to stare at his hands, Arthur's voice lowered to say, "I'm sorry." When Merlin didn't reply, Arthur asked, "I didn't…hurt you, did I?"
"No," Merlin answered. Placing one of his hands on top of Arthur's, he continued, "I'm sorry, Arthur. I really am."
"Not sorry enough to behave any differently," Arthur's voice cracked as he spoke.
Squeezing Arthur's balled up hand with his own, Merlin replied, "I suppose not, no." Arthur sniffled, and Merlin added, "But neither of us knows what the future holds for us. We might be fighting over something that will never come to pass."
Arthur was quiet for a moment, and Merlin felt a few tears fall on his hand. "I just don't think I could lose you again." The two fell into silence, and Merlin took Arthur's shoulders and pulled him into a hug, hands holding the edges of Arthur's cloak to cover both of them. Wrapping his arms around Merlin's too-thin frame elicited a hitched sob amidst Arthur's otherwise quiet crying.
When his tears were spent, Arthur rested his forehead against one of Merlin's boney shoulders and took a few deep breaths. "I wasn't lying when I said losing you felt like I was losing part of myself," Arthur admitted, voice thick but earnest.
"I know," Merlin said, breath hot against the side of Arthur's face.
"Then why?"
"Because I don't know if I could even live without you," Merlin confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "There wouldn't be any point anymore."
Shaking his head into Merlin's shoulder, Arthur said, "Please don't say that, Merlin. There's always a point."
Merlin was not so sure that there was.
Arthur grabbed a fistful of Merlin's shabby cloak and snaked his other arm to the back of Merlin's head to pull him closer. "Shut up, Merlin."
Mouth now partially squished against Arthur's chest, Merlin said, "I didn't say anything."
"Yes, you did, and don't you dare; I will fucking haunt you," Arthur threatened in Merlin's ear.
Merlin barked a laugh.
Shaking his head, Arthur pushed Merlin away to look at him properly. When he made eye contact, he fervently insisted, "We're supposed to do this together—I don't think I can become the 'Once and Future King' or whatever the hell that is without you."
Merlin took a deep breath and nodded to himself. He reached back out to squeeze Arthur's hand, interlocking their fingers. When Merlin looked back up, Arthur saw that his lips were thin and his brow was creased with apprehension. "I never did tell you what that meant, did I?" Merlin asked, already dreading the direction this conversation—a conversation he had been avoiding—was going.
When Arthur shook his head, Merlin explained, "Kilgharrah said that you are supposed to 'rise again' when Albion needs you the most."
Arthur's face contorted in confusion. "What is that supposed to mean? Like I'm going to rise from the dead one day?"
"That's what I always assumed," Merlin said with a shrug.
Still feeling flustered, Arthur's lips thinned as he thought about the implications of returning back to life after dying. If that was the case, he would return to a strange world where everyone he knew and loved was dead. Licking his dry lips, the king asked, "Do you know about what will happen with everyone?"
"As far as I'm aware, returning is only your destiny," Merlin replied, releasing Arthur's hand to pull Arthur's cloak tightly around himself.
"We share a destiny—what about you?" Arthur asked in a strained voice.
"That's…" Merlin began, but didn't finish his thought. Glancing downwards, Merlin gently rocked himself back and forth before saying, "That's something I haven't told you yet."
"What?" Arthur asked, intently staring at Merlin, who was now resting his chin on top of his knees.
Merlin glanced over at Arthur's before he looked away again. "I don't think I can die," Merlin admitted, his voice low and tone uncertain, "Permanently, anyway."
Eyebrows shooting up his forehead, Arthur sat completely upright and sputtered, "What?"
Merlin looked over at Arthur and swallowed before repeating, "I said I—"
"—I heard you," Arthur interrupted. "Why?" Stupidly, he had thought there was nothing else that Merlin could have possibly said that would surprise him.
"Because I'm pretty sure I did die, twice," Merlin elaborated, hugging himself tighter. "Once in Staunton's dungeon and once…after Morgana stabbed me."
"What do you mean you died?" Shaking his head in denial, Arthur insisted, "I saw you alive the next morning."
Merlin sighed. "Gaius told me that when he went to check on me early the following morning, he found me dead."
"Gaius thinks you died?" Arthur asked, completely stupefied.
Merlin nodded, face set in a grim line. "He said that my body was already cold, and that he sat with me a while." Looking away, he added, "I think that's why he's been so…careful with me." While he felt bad that Gaius was subjected to that trauma, his continual fussing had made it difficult for Merlin to create some semblance of normal.
"But you're alive now?" Arthur said, though his voice was filled with doubt. Grabbing one of Merlin's hands, he squeezed his wrist to feel for a pulse.
When Arthur found his pulse and looked up at him, completely dumbfound, Merlin elaborated, "I just…woke up, freezing cold and gasping for air. Gaius had been crying in the chair next to my bed, and when I woke up, he shot up out of the chair and clutched his chest. I thought he was having a heart attack, so I sat up and asked if he was alright. That's when all the color drained from his face and he collapsed onto the edge of my bed. He just started prodding me"—Merlin gestured with the wrist that Arthur was still holding tightly—"And his hands just felt…so warm on my skin. It was like he was on fire. I kept asking if he was alright, but when he lifted up my shirt and pulled off the bandages over my stab wound, I realized what had happened."
"What?" Arthur asked, glancing down towards Merlin's midsection.
"The wound healed," Merlin concluded. Straightening out his legs, Merlin sat upright and pulled the bottom of his shirt up with his free hand. Tugging his wrist out of Arthur's grasp, he took Arthur's hand and guided it towards the scar on his abdomen.
The king took a moment to appraise the scar. He was initially doubtful, thinking that it had to have been old, but after a moment, the image of Merlin bleeding out that day overwhelmed him. That was certainly the location where he had been stabbed. Feeling around the area, there were no other scars save the one thin line. When he removed his hand, Arthur could only see it faintly glimmering silver in the moonlight. "How?" he asked, reaching out to touch it again in disbelief.
"The back's like that, too," Merlin said, pulling the front of his shirt down and guiding Arthur's hand to the entrance wound. Sure enough, it was a thin line, barely even a scar, just as the one on the front had been. "When I woke up that day, all the stitches had popped out, and it was just a red, angry scar on either side."
Arthur was stunned, mouth agape as he stared at the warlock. Merlin fixed his shirt and continued to explain, "And I think that's what happened in Lord Staunton's dungeon." Merlin paused to push down the panic that surrounded the subject. "I think that guard killed me," he admitted lowly, touching his neck where the red handprints had so prominently stuck out on his skin.
Head bowed, Arthur reached for Merlin's hand, and Merlin accepted it. When Arthur did not speak, Merlin elaborated, "I think it—whatever it is—only heals fatal wounds. Gaius also said that he thought it was unlikely with how hard I hit my head that I would be this…fine, I guess." Merlin finished the statement with a weak chuckle at the prospect that he was anything approaching "fine."
Feeling his voice begin to tighten, Merlin concluded, "And I don't know if it was just two weird flukes…or if I just can't die until I've fulfilled my part of the destiny…or if I just can't at all." Merlin grimaced and tears began to prick at his eyes. The thought of surviving everyone he loved or the possibility of enduring terrible suffering only to not be met with a peaceful end were absolutely devastating conclusions.
Arthur's lips thinned before he frowned. Licking his dry lips, Arthur's voice cracked as he said, "Please don't try to verify this theory."
Merlin's eyes widened at the implication. Stammering, Merlin asked, "Do…Do you really believe that I might kill myself?"
Arthur shook his head and glanced down. "I don't know, I just…don't think you're happy anymore."
Merlin squeezed Arthur's hand and sighed. "I suppose I'm not," Merlin mused after pausing for a moment. It felt odd to admit such a thing, especially because he had so carefully cultivated a face to wear to hide his absolute devastation. Realizing the implications of his statement, Merlin backtracked, "I'm not saying that I'm unhappy about you knowing about the magic, and especially not about you legalizing it."
Arthur understood what Merlin meant. "Merlin, I would be horrified if you were just fine after everything that has happened"—Merlin breathed a sigh of relief—"Just…please don't lie to me anymore. I don't want you pretending like you're okay if you're not."
"Okay," Merlin said with an affirmative nod, though he couldn't meet the king's eyes.
Shaking Merlin's hand, Arthur verified, "I'm asking you again, and remember you just said you weren't going to lie to me anymore. You have no intention of figuring out whether or not you can die?"
"No," Merlin confirmed as he met Arthur's gaze.
Maintaining the eye contact, Arthur pressed on, "And if you think this is some excuse to justify you continuing to be a self-sacrificing idiot, it isn't."
Merlin looked at him like he was crazy. "Why shouldn't we take advantage of it if I'm right?"
Arthur shook his head. "What if you're wrong, and you sacrifice yourself and I sit there waiting for you to come back, but you don't?
Shrugging, Merlin said, "Then destiny said my work is done."
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur retorted, anger making its way into his brow.
"No," Merlin vehemently refused. "What if I'm stuck like this forever, and I let you die before it's your time? I don't think I could live with myself, but I'd have to." Arthur frowned, and Merlin concluded, tone softer, "There isn't anything I wouldn't do to avoid that."
Looking downward, Arthur admitted, "I just don't know if I can watch you get hurt again."
Shaking his head, Merlin put his hand on Arthur's knee and said, "Well, that's not your decision. It might not even be my decision."
Arthur sighed. "Just…don't go seeking it out."
Merlin laughed. "Since when have we ever sought anything out?"
"You're right, trouble does seem to find us," Arthur admitted with another sigh.
"No," Merlin objected with a smile. "Trouble seems to find you."
Arthur looked away, chest welling up with grief. Rubbing his chest with broad strokes, he said, "I'm sorry, Merlin."
"What for?" Merlin asked, genuinely confused.
He was not precisely sure what he was sorry for. Everything, perhaps. "You've been alone for so long, fighting unseen enemies without complaint. And that you might…be alone. Later."
Merlin weakly chuckled and said, "I have been trying to not think about that."
"Hasn't worked, has it?" Arthur asked as he glanced up to see Merlin's anxious expression.
Laughing, Merlin raised his hands in surrender and said, "You got me."
"I know I do."
"You do," Merlin agreed with a faint smile and reached out to squeeze one of Arthur's hands.
"Want to talk about it?" Arthur asked, though he himself did not want to talk about it.
Merlin shook his head and replied, "Not today." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "When I'm ready, I'll probably go talk to Kilgharrah to see what he thinks, though I don't think he would confirm anything, that dodgy bastard."
"You're going to go talk…to the dragon?" Arthur asked, still bewildered by the concept.
"Yeah," Merlin confirmed. "I'd invite you, but I still don't think he likes you much. Maybe the next time."
"The next time," Arthur parroted dumbly.
Merlin laughed and repeated, "Maybe the next time."
The two fell into silence, sitting with shoulders pressed against one another, as they stared off to the now lightening horizon.
"I would have lost you," Arthur said, voicing the thought that had newly consumed him. In their silence, he had been feebly fighting off the grief over the knowledge that had it not been a matter of destiny, Merlin wouldn't be sitting here right now. A selfish part of him was relieved that he was.
"But you didn't," Merlin replied with a shrug.
Arthur shook his head. "Just because you came back doesn't mean that I didn't." His throat tightened as the same ache he felt over losing Merlin in Lord Staunton's lands returned.
"I guess you're right," Merlin conceded, remembering Gaius's reaction. Just because he did not stay dead, it didn't mean that he hadn't died.
Meeting Merlin's gaze, Arthur asked, "Can you at least please promise me that you will be more careful?"
"I will," the warlock swore.
"Good"—Arthur slapped both hands on his thighs—"I really don't think I can take it again, Merlin. It hurts. It still hurts."
Merlin nodded. He knew how much it would hurt if their situations were reversed. "I will," he repeated. "I don't want to do that to you again."
"I don't want that to happen to you again," Arthur amended. "I don't want to see you get hurt again because I don't want you to get hurt again."
"I'll try not to," Merlin promised, still meeting Arthur's gaze.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, Arthur said, "This whole time, that's all I've wanted to hear from you. That you'll try."
Merlin laughed nervously. "I may be a self-sacrificing idiot, but I'm not a masochist, Arthur."
"I just needed to hear it," Arthur explained with a sigh as he glanced away.
"Arthur, look at me," Merlin insisted and only continued when Arthur met his gaze, "You trust me, right?"
"Yes."
"Then trust me. I'm not going to automatically select the most reckless option."
"Okay," Arthur agreed, though he did not think this would be end of that conversation. Leaning back on both hands, Arthur looked up at the sky. The sun was now peeking over the horizon, heralding in a new day with sea of light blues and oranges.
Sighing at Arthur's flat response, Merlin said, "We don't have to figure everything out today. We can take it one thing at a time."
"You're right," Arthur conceded and added after taking a deep breath, "That next thing should probably be going to bed."
Merlin stifled a yawn in agreement.
With another deep breath, Arthur stood up. Extending his hand out for Merlin, Arthur said, "Come on, Merlin."
Accepting the offer, the warlock grabbed his hand and hauled himself upright with the king's support. As the two began walking towards the citadel, Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin's shoulders and asked, "How about we start by getting you a better bed?"
End
