[ there are days when arthur regrets his decision to marry elena, days when he looks at guinevere from across the hall and wonders if he should have pushed harder against his father. should he have married for love? should he have stayed true to himself, instead of giving into his father's demands? is this what is truly right for camelot? he can't say. no one can, really. only time can tell if the unhappiness arthur feels, the dissatisfaction, will pass or if he has made a grave mistake. what good is a king if he's unhappy? what good is arthur if his unhappiness turns him into his father? but i don't love her echoes in his mind every time he fakes a smile, every time he shares a glance with his father, knowing that his union with elena is built on a lie. but uther doesn't care about love. he's proud of arthur for making the right decision, even if arthur isn't proud of himself. how can he be when he looks at elena and sees right past her? ]
[ there are nights, of course, when he regrets it, too. nights when he lies awake thinking of guinevere and the life he hopes she'll find without him, nights of restlessness and frustration that make him want to do something stupid (would it be so bad to be with guinevere, if no one knew? but, no, he could never do that to her, condemning her to the likes of a common whore -- he loves her too much to be that selfish, and he knows her too well to think she would ever agree, even for one night). then, there are the nights he spends with elena, most of which result in nothing. elena is kind, understanding (and he's noticed something distinctly different about her since she last came to camelot) -- he might even go as far as saying she's beautiful. but she isn't guinevere. she never will be. there's no passion in the way arthur makes love to elena, there's only expectation. the pendragon line must continue. it wouldn't be a true union without a child to show for it, anyway, but arthur wouldn't want to burden elena with a child he's not sure he'd know how to love. why would he want to bring another life into this world purely for the sake of duty? ]
[ and yet, through all of this, somehow ... somehow merlin has been a constant source of reassurance and guidance. arthur would be decidedly more miserable without him, despite how miserable merlin is at actually doing his job. arthur isn't sure what it is, but he's begun to see merlin in a different light, like maybe there is more to his bumbling and his foolishness. he's been the only person arthur's had to call a friend, though he could never express as much out loud. princes and servants aren't supposed to be friends, or much of anything, but merlin has always been more than just a servant. uther would never see it that way, would always believe merlin to be expendable if anything bad were to happen to him -- but he doesn't know merlin like arthur does. behind all the laziness and general idiocy merlin posesses, there's an extreme loyalty arthur can't quite comprehend, a faith like nothing he's ever known. maybe arthur was just destined to fall in love with his servants; maybe it's fate that leaves his gaze lingering when merlin isn't looking, that keeps him up knowing what might be, that insists merlin stay with him one night. ]
[ elena has gone to visit her father, accompanied by some of camelot's finest knights. arthur attempted to protest he go with her, but she'd been very insistent he stay behind. maybe he should have argued more, convinced her as her husband he should be the one by her side, but he can't deny the time apart is refreshing. he assumes it's the very reason she'd wanted to go without him in the first place. if he were her, he would have insisted on the very same thing. consequently, his chambers are empty that night, aside from merlin, whose company arthur craves now more than anything. he craves some part of merlin he's never known, the secret part of him that no one else can know, that no one but arthur should ever know. he craves to know what merlin feels like inside and out, and it's a craving he knows is inappropriate but he can't be bothered to care. he's allowed one happiness, one selfishness, after giving up his true right to be happy. ]
[ is there anything else, sire? becomes nothing more than an echo as he stares at merlin, eyes searching him as if he does truly have all the answers in the world, as if he is more than what he lets on. merlin is many things, but the only thing arthur wants him to be now is his. he reaches out to draw them closer, a hand settling at merlin's neck in a way he's never dared before. his heart pounds against his chest, for a moment afraid that this is already a mistake -- but arthur has never been a coward, so their lips touch in a collision of grace and wanting, in a moment of hesitance and desperation. never has arthur wished so badly something could last forever. ] Stay with me.
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[ there are nights, of course, when he regrets it, too. nights when he lies awake thinking of guinevere and the life he hopes she'll find without him, nights of restlessness and frustration that make him want to do something stupid (would it be so bad to be with guinevere, if no one knew? but, no, he could never do that to her, condemning her to the likes of a common whore -- he loves her too much to be that selfish, and he knows her too well to think she would ever agree, even for one night). then, there are the nights he spends with elena, most of which result in nothing. elena is kind, understanding (and he's noticed something distinctly different about her since she last came to camelot) -- he might even go as far as saying she's beautiful. but she isn't guinevere. she never will be. there's no passion in the way arthur makes love to elena, there's only expectation. the pendragon line must continue. it wouldn't be a true union without a child to show for it, anyway, but arthur wouldn't want to burden elena with a child he's not sure he'd know how to love. why would he want to bring another life into this world purely for the sake of duty? ]
[ and yet, through all of this, somehow ... somehow merlin has been a constant source of reassurance and guidance. arthur would be decidedly more miserable without him, despite how miserable merlin is at actually doing his job. arthur isn't sure what it is, but he's begun to see merlin in a different light, like maybe there is more to his bumbling and his foolishness. he's been the only person arthur's had to call a friend, though he could never express as much out loud. princes and servants aren't supposed to be friends, or much of anything, but merlin has always been more than just a servant. uther would never see it that way, would always believe merlin to be expendable if anything bad were to happen to him -- but he doesn't know merlin like arthur does. behind all the laziness and general idiocy merlin posesses, there's an extreme loyalty arthur can't quite comprehend, a faith like nothing he's ever known. maybe arthur was just destined to fall in love with his servants; maybe it's fate that leaves his gaze lingering when merlin isn't looking, that keeps him up knowing what might be, that insists merlin stay with him one night. ]
[ elena has gone to visit her father, accompanied by some of camelot's finest knights. arthur attempted to protest he go with her, but she'd been very insistent he stay behind. maybe he should have argued more, convinced her as her husband he should be the one by her side, but he can't deny the time apart is refreshing. he assumes it's the very reason she'd wanted to go without him in the first place. if he were her, he would have insisted on the very same thing. consequently, his chambers are empty that night, aside from merlin, whose company arthur craves now more than anything. he craves some part of merlin he's never known, the secret part of him that no one else can know, that no one but arthur should ever know. he craves to know what merlin feels like inside and out, and it's a craving he knows is inappropriate but he can't be bothered to care. he's allowed one happiness, one selfishness, after giving up his true right to be happy. ]
[ is there anything else, sire? becomes nothing more than an echo as he stares at merlin, eyes searching him as if he does truly have all the answers in the world, as if he is more than what he lets on. merlin is many things, but the only thing arthur wants him to be now is his. he reaches out to draw them closer, a hand settling at merlin's neck in a way he's never dared before. his heart pounds against his chest, for a moment afraid that this is already a mistake -- but arthur has never been a coward, so their lips touch in a collision of grace and wanting, in a moment of hesitance and desperation. never has arthur wished so badly something could last forever. ] Stay with me.