[ the days without merlin have been quiet, to say the least. under any other circumstances, it might be appreciated, but arthur finds himself wishing for more and more excuses to have merlin by his side, to have merlin wake him in that obnoxious way he does, to have merlin be with him at every turn of the day. maybe he's become too dependent on him, but mostly he just misses having someone to talk to -- and occasionally throw something at. elena certainly doesn't have merlin's charm (if it can even be considered charm and not dumb luck and idiocy); they go riding together when arthur isn't in council meetings or training with his men, but arthur finds himself bored more often than not. he never thought he'd miss merlin's jokes or any of his other oddities -- but perhaps it's the need for formalities around elena that makes arthur miss merlin the most. merlin has never quite grasped the concept of treating arthur like a prince, but it's exactly that irreverence, the intolerance on most occasions, that leaves arthur feeling empty, yearning to be just arthur instead of my lord. ]
[ at least he can count on merlin for one thing. there's a hint of a smile at arthur's lips when merlin speaks his name. it's a relief to hear it, and not from his father. it lights something in him that can't be named, a fire of passion he never wishes to put out. there's guilt in it, he knows, for he'll never feel this way about elena -- but there is some small reassurance in knowing she'll never feel this way for him, either. it doesn't make it right, but when has choosing merlin ever been wrong? ]
Merlin. [ it's gentle, almost, like he's speaking to a scared child. it isn't at all like it normally sounds, ripe with condescension; for once, it sounds like he cares (he always has). ] When have I ever been cruel to you? [ unappreciative, maybe, but never cruel. merlin would surely have said so before if he thought that were true. he rests his forehead against merlin's, closing his eyes just for a moment. he can feel the subtle thrum of merlin's pulse under his fingertips, a rhythm that makes him feel more alive than he's felt in months. ] I've missed you, that's all.
[ it's not all, exactly, but it's as much as arthur's willing to admit. how can he say i want you out loud? even if he is a prince, there are some things he knows he shouldn't want, merlin included. his father would have a fit if he knew, if he ever found out arthur was consorting with his servant like this. arthur's sure uther would call it sorcery, that merlin of all people must have enchanted him -- but it's ridiculous, the idea that merlin could ever be a sorcerer, or that he would ever enchant arthur. for what reason? for what gain? truthfully, he wouldn't need to, anyway. whatever arthur feels for him is as real as merlin's hand at his wrist, cementing them together, and it has been since before this night. ]
[ it's merlin's downcast expression, the way he says you know how i and arthur assumes he meant to say feel, that has arthur hesitating once more. why would merlin ever feel anything for him? he doesn't ask. maybe he can't bear the thought of knowing he isn't alone in these feelings, in this attraction -- it's far more dangerous when it's mutual, after all, isn't it? is he afraid of what this might be? of what they might become? he can't say. merlin has always been a source of comfort, of safety, in a way, even if merlin would be more likely to accidentally stab him with a sword than protect him with one. but he's always been there, no matter what, no matter the peril, and that's the kind of courage arthur has always admired about him. he can't imagine either of them running from this, not when they've faced worse together, but -- ] You have my permission to leave, if you'd rather.
[ he isn't going to force merlin to stay with him. his request had been simply that -- a request, not an order. stay with me, he'd said, because he can't bear to be alone right now. even with elena sharing his bed, there's been a loneliness that creeps under his skin, a yearning for someone that isn't her and never can be. he isn't sure why it's now he longs for merlin to stay, to share his chambers, when before he was content to let him leave. maybe it's because he always had the opportunity then, and you only want something once it's taken from you. arthur can't let this opportunity slip through his fingers again, not when he's already given up guinevere -- and not when merlin is the one person who makes him happy over anyone else. hasn't he given up enough already? ]
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[ at least he can count on merlin for one thing. there's a hint of a smile at arthur's lips when merlin speaks his name. it's a relief to hear it, and not from his father. it lights something in him that can't be named, a fire of passion he never wishes to put out. there's guilt in it, he knows, for he'll never feel this way about elena -- but there is some small reassurance in knowing she'll never feel this way for him, either. it doesn't make it right, but when has choosing merlin ever been wrong? ]
Merlin. [ it's gentle, almost, like he's speaking to a scared child. it isn't at all like it normally sounds, ripe with condescension; for once, it sounds like he cares (he always has). ] When have I ever been cruel to you? [ unappreciative, maybe, but never cruel. merlin would surely have said so before if he thought that were true. he rests his forehead against merlin's, closing his eyes just for a moment. he can feel the subtle thrum of merlin's pulse under his fingertips, a rhythm that makes him feel more alive than he's felt in months. ] I've missed you, that's all.
[ it's not all, exactly, but it's as much as arthur's willing to admit. how can he say i want you out loud? even if he is a prince, there are some things he knows he shouldn't want, merlin included. his father would have a fit if he knew, if he ever found out arthur was consorting with his servant like this. arthur's sure uther would call it sorcery, that merlin of all people must have enchanted him -- but it's ridiculous, the idea that merlin could ever be a sorcerer, or that he would ever enchant arthur. for what reason? for what gain? truthfully, he wouldn't need to, anyway. whatever arthur feels for him is as real as merlin's hand at his wrist, cementing them together, and it has been since before this night. ]
[ it's merlin's downcast expression, the way he says you know how i and arthur assumes he meant to say feel, that has arthur hesitating once more. why would merlin ever feel anything for him? he doesn't ask. maybe he can't bear the thought of knowing he isn't alone in these feelings, in this attraction -- it's far more dangerous when it's mutual, after all, isn't it? is he afraid of what this might be? of what they might become? he can't say. merlin has always been a source of comfort, of safety, in a way, even if merlin would be more likely to accidentally stab him with a sword than protect him with one. but he's always been there, no matter what, no matter the peril, and that's the kind of courage arthur has always admired about him. he can't imagine either of them running from this, not when they've faced worse together, but -- ] You have my permission to leave, if you'd rather.
[ he isn't going to force merlin to stay with him. his request had been simply that -- a request, not an order. stay with me, he'd said, because he can't bear to be alone right now. even with elena sharing his bed, there's been a loneliness that creeps under his skin, a yearning for someone that isn't her and never can be. he isn't sure why it's now he longs for merlin to stay, to share his chambers, when before he was content to let him leave. maybe it's because he always had the opportunity then, and you only want something once it's taken from you. arthur can't let this opportunity slip through his fingers again, not when he's already given up guinevere -- and not when merlin is the one person who makes him happy over anyone else. hasn't he given up enough already? ]