Work Text:
Merlin's throat felt dry, closed up. He could barely breathe, unable to even fathom what Arthur was about to do.
"You - I can't let you do this!" he exclaimed, finally finding himself, finding his voice, jumping into action. The only thing Arthur did in response was scowl.
"And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?" The tone was indifferent, but Merlin knew him - he knew him - and knew that Arthur was worried too. He was tense, taking Merlin's worrying as an excuse to write off what he was about to do - about to sacrifice.
"I am!" Merlin protested. "You are King now! You cannot just go out there, battle someone like that... You're too important to your people, to your kingdom -"
"And what good am I to a kingdom of dead men? Of burnt crops and murdered children and wives? What am I then?" Arthur snapped angrily, pulling on his cloak.
Merlin swallowed, nibbling on his lower lip in indecision. Arthur ignored him, struggling to latch on his armor.
Merlin stood there a moment more, contemplative. True, Arthur was a fool to sacrifice himself, to possibly die in the attempt to stop outright war...
But still. It was the right thing to do. And Arthur? Arthur had always been righteous; even at his worst, his people and his responsibilities were always at heart.
Merlin looked away, unable to watch Arthur struggle any more.
A moment of silence passed like this, then another -
Then Merlin was walking forward, batting away Arthur's struggling finger. They trembled when Merlin held them, and Arthur refused to meet his eyes.
"I will not let them die." It was soft, a confession, a breath. Rarely did Arthur ever bare himself so.
Merlin swallowed heavily, slowly lowering Arthur's hands and bringing his own up to fiddle with the armor.
Just as quietly, he replied:
"I know."
"I would never lie to you, sire."
It was said with vehemence, with reverence, with a certainty that Arthur had learned to trust, to cherish. It was few and far when he found himself being spoken to so strongly.
Nevertheless, Arthur let his eyes trail on his manservant a moment longer, reading the hardened lines in his face for any trace of a lie, and trace of a falsehood.
To him, though, Merlin had become unreadable. Stone. A force to be reckoned with.
It was chilling, to think that such a jovial man had turned so hard. Charred in the flames of life, of pain and loss and hard decisions.
Arthur licked his lips, looking away from his manservant, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror across from them.
He turned away quickly, unsettled by the same hardened lines on his own face.
"You say you would never lie to me?"
It was quiet, more vulnerable than Arthur would've liked the voice of a king to be. But then again, he had been betrayed so many times thus far -
"Do you promise? Do you give an oath?"
Arthur didn't have to turn to know that Merlin shook his head, only too willing to make such a promise.
"I promise, sire."
Arthur swallowed, a moment more, hesitating. Then:
"Alright. Alright. I trust you... Now which one of the visiting nobles did you say was a traitor?"
"Because I don't trust you!" Merlin yelled, chest heaving as he realized the weight of his words. Arthur looked at him, wide eyed, like he'd been slapped. Like he'd been stabbed.
Like he'd been betrayed.
All the fight drained out of Merlin at this. All the anger and rage solidified, growing icy and volatile, turning into its true nature - fear.
Fear. Fear of rejection, fear of being cast out, being exiled -
Fear of losing his place in Arthur's life.
He couldn't. He just - couldn't -
"Arthur," Merlin whispered, falling to his knees. Throwing himself to the floor, at Arthur's feet. He didn't dare look up, didn't dare meet the other man's eyes. Not after everything they had been through.
"I would never - I didn't choose it. I didn't choose the m-," he choked on the word, sobbing openly now, tearing streaming down his face, nose growing stuffy, voice quivering. "The magic. I would never -"
He couldn't finish it. Couldn't get the words out. Arthur meant everything to him, was his world and then some. The thought of hurting him, of taking his trust and heart and ripping it to pieces, it was too much.
"Do what you will," he whispered, still not daring to look up at his king.
A moment of silence. Merlin didn't breathe, didn't dare let his hopes raise, let his walls crumble. Though, too late for that. His defenses crumbled long ago.
Arthur was everything to him.
A hand suddenly touched his chin, and Merlin flinched.
Looking up, he could see through his watery vision that Arthur -
Arthur was on the floor in front of him. Similar tears streaked his face, eyelashes clumping together, cheeks growing spotty.
"I -" Merlin started.
"I know," Arthur shushed quietly. "I know it's not true. No man trusts me more than you."
And in that moment, something beautiful blossomed in Merlin's heart, crackling and growing like a wildfire, like a swell of seawater that would soon grow to engulf everything, anything, all of him -
Merlin didn't realize Arthur was leaning closer until their lips were already touching.
"I don't need you!" Merlin screamed, tears streaming down his face, blurring the golden glow of his irises. Wind whipped, wild and enraged around him, tossing up leaves and branches and stray rubbish, throwing everything into the air, leaving Merlin's fury with an outlet, a place to destroy and rage and cry and anguish. A place to let out all the emotions he sacrificed so many times, over and over and over again for a man who refused to let him be, to let him exist, to let him take care of problems -
"I don't need you, Arthur Pendragon! I do not need your coddling and your ignorance and disrespect!" his voice clapped around the forest, thrown off the trees like an eerie echo, leaving Arthur, face streaked with mud and his own silent tears, to crane his neck, blinking against the dust in the air and the violent wind, taking in the unholy sight of his manservant - no, Merlin was more than that by now - his friend's anguish.
Arthur swallowed, looking down once more, sinking his sword into the soft earth.
Merlin ignored the motion, instead sobbing, his whole body wracked with the intensity of it. A golden glow engulfed them both, cutting off the outside world even as Merlin's magic destroyed this inner one.
Slowly, oh so slowly, Arthur reached up a hand.
Merlin jerked, but made no move to bat his king away. Instead, he let Arthur's fingers find their way up his palm, reaching his wrist, working their way slowly back down to intertwine their fingers.
A moment, then two, then ten -
Slowly, the wind subsided.
Slowly, the dust settled.
Soon, it was just Merlin and Arthur, isolated in their shared agony.
Isolated in their shared passion.
"I'll never let you go."
It was whispered into the silence, muffled from where Merlin's mouth was pushed into a silent kiss in Arthur's hair. He breathed out and Arthur breathed in, their bodies slowly cooling down, coiled together beyond recognition. Their chests moving in an equal, alternative rhythm.
"I swear, Arthur... I'll never let you go. Not again. Not like that."
Arthur choked up at this, unable to contain the swirling pit of emotions within him, unable to stop the unreadable and undeniable burning in his chest. Naked as he was, vulnerable and in another man's bed - it should've left him afraid, ill at ease.
Instead, he was more comfortable here than he ever remembered being.
Arthur smiled at the thought, letting out a gush of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.
Soon enough, sleep came prying at the edges of his vision, dulling the swirl of emotions in his rib cage, numbing his senses.
"Never," Merlin whispered, a silent prayer, a rippling promise, little more than a falsity falling from his lips.
Arthur, though, ignored what they both knew to be an impossible promise.
Instead, he let sleep take him.
The world fell apart, destroyed with the furies unleashed upon this plane by Morgana. Through the masses of soldiers and monsters, of creatures and weapons and fire and metal and death, Merlin managed to find Arthur, find him on the ground, having been thrown from his horse at some point in time. He was injured, even though the cut was superficial.
Merlin gasped, taking in the blood on his side, the scratch on Arthur's face, wiping away the blood and dirt, looking into his eyes as though they held the secret to the universe's mysteries, as though he could find the answer to this losing battle.
Merlin swallowed, his eyes darting away, absentmindedly golden with the temporary shield he had cast over the two of them. The battle raged around, outside the silky, spiderwebbed bubble.
A losing battle.
"Arthur I -"
Arthur groaned, reaching a bloody hand up to grasp at Merlin's cheek. "Don't. I know you're going to -" he coughed. "You're going to do something. Don't, you idiot."
Merlin chuckled, vision blurring as tears welled up at the edges of his eyes, undoubtedly drawing their own tracks through the mud and speckled blood covering his face.
"Arthur, I will find you. Once this is over, I will come back for you -"
"Don't, Merlin, please," Arthur begged, choking for a moment, holding the cut at his side. Tears, too, were in his eyes now. Tears, as well as a resigned, knowing look.
"Arthur," Merlin begged, feeling as his lover's hand fell from his cheek to instead settle on his Sorcerer's armor. "Arthur, please don't make me do this." His voice cracked, echoing the clashing and roar of battle around them. "Don't make me do this," he whispered again.
"There has to be another way..." Arthur begged, even as he knew.
"The veil, she tore it. The only way we can ever separate the worlds again is if I do this. Otherwise, they'll just keep coming-"
"Merlin," Arthur sobbed, openly crying.
"They'll just keep coming!" Merlin cried out, bringing a dirty hand up to rub angrily at the tears streaming down his face. "They'll just keep coming and our people will keep dying!"
The spiderweb of magic flickered, dimming for a moment. Their time together was coming to an end.
"Please," Arthur begged once more, hopeless, watching as his whole world was ripped away from him.
Merlin looked down, rubbing his thumb across the ring on Arthur's forefinger, then more slowly and carefully across the matching one on his own.
"Arthur," he whispered. "I promise, I will come back to you." But his eyes were still cast downward, his hands still fidgeting with Arthur's own.
A moment, and then a flash, and then they were kissing, tears and dirt and blood and desperation mixing together, making the air toxic and tugging at the edges of Merlin's magic, at the edges of reality.
And then they were pulling away, even as Arthur cried out, trying to follow his lover where no mortal could, trying to stand but too injured, trying to yell and scream and fight his way to where Merlin was at the cusp of the abyss, at the edge of the tear -
Arthur managed to push himself up, grabbing Merlin's hand right as he was on the threshold, golden eyes glowing with tears and power and something more, something less human, even as the liquid darkness of the void licked at the edges of his form.
"Merlin!" Arthur screamed, grasping hard onto Merlin's hand, feeling metal slip into his fingers.
"I love you," Merlin whispered, giving a watery smile even as he twisted his hand, loosening Arthur's grip, letting his body fall backward.
Arthur tried to follow, only to find himself where the portal once stood, a sudden silence pervading the plain.
The war was won. The Witch was dead.
The king, though, was broken.
10 years later
It was sunny, just as lovely as any summer Camelot day could be. The air held the scent of pine and dew and a faint salty hint, laughter and the murmur of humanity floating through it.
Arthur looked out upon his kingdom, taking in the flourishing markets, noting the traveler's tents and festive poles set up for the celebration.
Set up for the anniversary of The Witch's downfall.
At one time, he had known her. Had grown up with her, thought of Morgana as a sister. Now, though, she was only known as The Witch. A myth, a death celebrated.
Arthur swallowed, pulling his gaze away from the window, hand absentmindedly reaching into his pocket.
"Sire?"
He looked up, having not heard the approaching servant, lost in his own contemplation.
"Yes?"
The servant bowed quickly, regardless of how Arthur consistently waved aside such formalities. "They require you in the courtyard soon. The joust is about to begin."
Arthur nodded. "Of course. Thank you." He waved the man away, turning back to take one last look at the kingdom he had built -
No. That was wrong. He had only done so much.
Arthur had only been half of what had made the kingdom whole.
Silently, he reached once more into his pocket, feeling the cool metal at his fingertips, pulling out the small, silver ring.
On the inside, simply, it was engraved:
"For my heart, forever more."
Arthur balled his fist, enclosing the metal.
If only it had been true.
Slowly, he replaced it back into his pocket, then forced his hollow body to move, to go through the acts of a happy king. To go to the festival, and smile among his people.
To play the part of the King.