Chapter Text
"Why did you never tell me?"
"I wanted to, but..."
"But what?" Arthur lifted his head to look at him, searching his face for any hint that might give away what he was thinking. Scrutinizing every muscle movement in his expressions, like it might reveal the person who was really in front of him, wearing his friend’s skin. Betrayal, shock, and grief wrestled in his mind and weighed on his chest. He half expected to see a new face or hear a different voice, an off tone, a misplaced phrase, anything to signal a spell or possession or reveal some reality that wasn’t this. He sought a reality he could scramble to fix but not this one. Not one where his closest companion, the only other to ever witness his vulnerability, the only one who ever got to glimpse his soul, was a liar.
It was all too overwhelming.
"You'd have chopped my head off." Merlin ended with a half-hearted laugh, feeling every bit as scared and uncomfortable as he was sure he looked. He tried to relax his features and retreated his hands to his lap, despite desperately wanting to fuss over Arthur and his wounds, emotional and physical, to regain the years-long connection that feels like it’d completely blown up in the past hour, but knowing that a bit of space was likely the best course of action.
Arthur blinked. His spiraling thoughts silenced by Merlin’s words. He thought he would be executed. By my father... by me. He knew if he was found out that he could be killed, and he still chose to stay.
A new wave of grief pulled on Arthur’s heart, his stomach sinking. He looked again at his friend sitting in front of him, studying his features once more but still finding the same Merlin he’d become so fond of. That same Merlin who’d spent a third of his life treading cautiously through every interaction, always just one hiccup away from certain death.
All these years..
"I'm not sure what I'd have done." His head began throbbing harder. Arthur cast his eyes down where his open palms rested on his knees. Guilt pierced through him, the pain rivaling that of his pulsing wound. As the realization of this reality settled in, Arthur tried to focus on his outstretched fingers, watching everything he thought he’d known slip through them. All of the assurance he'd held in his actions and decisions over the years vanished more and more. He saw Merlin’s face in every proud memory. He could still recall each counsel, still hear the passion in Merlin’s voice when he had delivered particularly inspiring speeches. Words that Arthur still clung to in moments of darkness and doubt.
This is really happening, Arthur thought.
His dearest companion had torn his soul in two in a matter of moments and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate him. His anger and betrayal now dampened by guilt and shame. He recognized the same broken heart that beat fainter by the minute in his own chest was too carried by his friend. If anything, he couldn’t understand how he hadn't seen it sooner.
He had always suspected he'd had a guardian angel watching over him. Or maybe some type of divine luck. All of the conveniently clumsy bandits, sturdy tree limbs breaking at the perfect time, expertly covered tracks, rarely getting lost... Merlin never succumbing to a fatal blow. He never even wore armor into battle. Except when he insisted on being used as bait when we ... Arthur lightly shook his head, pushing that ill timed thought away and reigniting the growing headache behind his eyes.
He always made it. We always made it. Have I really always been so blind?
"And I didn't want to put you in that position." Merlin said, meeting Arthur’s eyes with his own. His nervousness had vanished and shifted into something more solid and confident. He stared back at Arthur with a look of fealty and fondness.
Arthur drew a sharp breath at Merlin’s gaze, intense and familiar. His brows creased, his expression full of wonder as his friend's words dawned on him.
"That's what worried you?" All of this time... execution looming over your shoulder and you didn't want to put ME in a difficult position. You didn't want me to bear your burden..
Merlin eyes remained fixated on Arthur’s face, the face of his king, staring with admiration. "Some people are born to plough fields, some live to be great physicians, others... to be great Kings." The corner of his mouth gave away a faint smile as he continued, "Me, I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I wouldn't change a thing."
Arthur's jaw fell, blown away by the man staring back at him, the spitting image of devotion. Arthur felt at that moment that the air between them was the most familiar it’d been since Merlin had first uttered "I'm a sorcerer". Better even, he’d thought, because this crushing distance he’d felt between them finally started to close. Merlin's words were comforting. His indisputable passion and loyalty even more so. And this time, something was different. Something between them felt more open, more free. He felt like he was really seeing Merlin. He felt steadied by the fiery blue eyes that spoke of pride and devotion, flicking between his hair, eyes, nose, and lips, never once leaving his face, like he was taking him all in. Studying him as if this were his last chance.
And didn't that thought hit like a blow to the chest... Arthur's expression faltered, but for only a moment. He didn't want his impending doom, nor his lingering emotions, to sour one of their best and maybe last moments.
No , he thought. Let him remember us as this.
He held Merlin's gaze, blinking away the burning sensation in his eyes so that he could see Merlin clearly. So that he could study him too, to commit his every feature to memory. He thought of the boy he met all those years ago as he looked at the man who sat in front of him now. He'd never spent too much time thinking about his future with Merlin. Never allowed himself to think long of dreams when he had duties. But he had always seen Merlin with him anyways, wherever that may be. After the first few years of his service, Arthur had stopped worrying that Merlin might move back to Ealdor. He'd heard Merlin call Camelot his home. Over time, Arthur had begun to view Merlin as much a part of Camelot as he saw himself. Maybe he should feel naive to think so, since Merlin didn't have the noble status, but after all they’d done together, status had become mute to Arthur. The two of them were a package deal.
All the places I've been, all the situations I've found myself in, I've always felt at home when I'm with him.
Arthur’s smile grew, soft and sincere. He let himself admire the way Merlin's raven hair shone in the sun, outlining the contours of his face, a stark contrast to his light skin. Arthur noticed the way Merlin's neckerchief, sporting Camelot red, shifted to the side, disturbed by the breeze, and he dropped his gaze to Merlin's neck. His eyes followed the soft pink blush that began to creep up the pale stretch of skin, dotting along his jaw, traveling all the way to the tops of his sharp, pretty cheekbones. Arthur met his eyes again, allowing himself to stare as long as he pleased this time, until he could spot the few golden flecks scattered among the deep blue.
He is beautiful. Arthur thought to himself, or said, he wasn't sure.
Once he realized that this moment could be one of their last, he stopped worrying how he might be perceived. Stopped caring if his feelings might be written all over his face.
It seems all of the worrying never protected me anyways.
For the first time in his life, his walls were all down and he let his thoughts roam. All ties of duty and honor and expectation that have always been so tightly wrapped around him, binding him to a life he didn't choose, loosened and fell away until it was just this moment, this space, just him and Merlin. He wanted to live in this moment as long as possible.
He felt a warm breath over his nose and lips and realized he’d been leaning into Merlin’s space. He felt his own cheeks warm as his pulse jumped. He tilted his head to look at Merlin's mouth, his neck, his broad chest that was moving up and down rather quickly now, before dragging his eyes slowly back up to his mouth again.
I want him. Gods how I want him.
He felt high with how free he was being with himself. Free and honest and without bounds even if it was just with his own thoughts.
Finally , he thought. At least for a moment, I can finally have this.
Arthur watched Merlin’s tongue swipe over his bottom lip, leaving the rosy skin there glistening. His breath caught and he bit down on his bottom lip. He wanted to be sure, he had to be. Arthur dared to meet Merlin’s eyes once more and saw undeniable desire reflected back at him. Relief and excitement let out a surprised huff of breath as he dropped his gaze to Merlin’s parted lips once more and leaned forward, his shoulders just lifting off of the tree that’d been keeping him upright… he immediately hissed at the pain he felt shoot through his abdomen where his wound was deepest, slicing through the private, intimate bubble they'd shared. Arthur doubled over blinded by pain, his head hitting Merlin's shoulder.
Merlin grabbed Arthur by his shoulders trying to prop him upright where they sat, a worried expression returning to his flushed face from the moment cut short. He wasn't sure what to think of what had just passed between them, all he was sure of was that his brain was a scrambled mess. His heart still felt like it was pounding against his chest. Because only a moment ago, Arthur had been leaning in closer to him. Merlin had felt his cheeks were on fire. Because Arthur was staring at his mouth and his neck , looking at him like he wanted to eat him. He knew they had... moments before, but never so... palpable. Never so raw. And besides, he couldn't let himself dwell on them. He was Arthur's servant and friend, of which Arthur had few he could really trust. So it made sense that Arthur would be so close sometimes before being pulled in a thousand different directions by the entirety of the kingdom. That's what Merlin had always told himself anyways. Arthur definitely wasn't part of the reason he hadn't pursued anyone else since Freya, even though he'd had quite a few offers. But they weren't what he wanted. Weren't who he wanted, and that's as far as he would think on that. There was no use dreaming about things that could never be when he had a destiny to fulfill. But now…
No , he thought grimly. There will be no dreaming to do if Arthur dies today anyway.
Merlin took a calming breath and tried to speak softly, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "We need to continue on, Arthur,” his voice still sounded more rough than he’d hoped.
Arthur tried to breathe through the pain, trying to come back to himself, focusing on Merlin’s hand on his shoulder and the comforting circular motion of his thumb. After another moment of trying to catch his breath, Arthur spoke.
"Alright. But it's only because I'm saying so," was all he could manage, his weakened voice not quite landing the playful jibe he’d been aiming for to ease Merlin's concern. He couldn't see Merlin's face from where he had his forehead pressed against the crook of Merlin's neck, but if his tense muscles were anything to go by, worry was written all over it. So Arthur focused all of his energy on trying to stand up and hold his own weight, but with little success in the state he was in.
"Of course, sire." Merlin said with a small, sad smile on his lips as he helped lift his king to his feet, leaning Arthur's weight fully along his side, wrapping an arm around his King's waist and pulling Arthur's arm across his shoulders. Merlin began to guide him to their horses quickly yet cautiously so as to not send Arthur into another fit of pain.
I can feel it inside him, Merlin thought, panic rising in his throat, killing him slowly. Ripping him on the inside. I need to come up with something else, and fast. I cannot lose him. I will not.