Merthur One-shots

Human Ceremony

Merlin’s eyes are growing wet, he can’t help it.  It’s been so long, so long that he’s lived with this secret, lived in fear of what his Prince--his best friend--would think of him if he found out.  Arthur’s eyes soften, and he gently brings his hands up to either side of Merlin's face; he says, quietly, intimately: 

“ You are safe with me .” 

Just like that, Merlin’s knees give out, and he sinks into his Prince's arms, his eyes shedding years of pent up fear, and Arthur's neck is growing wet with the tears, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  

“ But--I--You’re father--” Merlin practically cries, he just can’t believe what he’s hearing.  

Arthur shushes him, rocking them both back and forth a bit.  “ I am not my father.  And you do not belong to him.  You belong to me , Merlin, right?” 

Merlin nods frantically, hopeful Arthur can feel it, because he feels too weak to lift his head properly.  

Minutes pass as their embrace continues, the afternoon sun sinking lower into the sky, and Merlin can see it through the chamber window, over Athur’s shoulder.  He wonders briefly why Arthur had returned to his chambers, during the time usually reserved for council with the King.  But he supposes it doesn’t quite matter right now.  Not when they have to figure out how to move forward with this .  What changes will this bring?  Merlin isn’t stupid, a little shocked right now, sure, but he knows that no matter how much Arthur assures him it’s okay, things are going to be different now.  Starting with this hug.  Merlin and Arthur don’t hug, they never have, that much the servant knows for sure.  And yet here they are, Arthur’s arms tight around Merlin, as close as they can possibly get.  But he isn’t complaining.  Not one bit.  

                                                                                                                                                         -*-

T hings  don’t change as much as Merlin thought they would.  Well, they do, and yet they don’t.  Arthur allows Merlin to do magic around him now, which is a huge change.  He stares in awe when Merlin lights the fire with a flick of his hand, smiles proudly when Merlin uses magic to save one of the knights from a falling tree branch, undetected by anyone but the two of them.  It feels good to have Arthur know about this part of himself, Hell, better than good, amazing !  And yet, there was something else which was discovered that afternoon in Arthur’s chambers.  Something that’s proven harder to talk about than magic, somehow.   

Arthur has become protective over Merlin, more so than ever before.  He stands closer to his servant whenever he can, and he always seems to be seeking the man out with his eyes, whenever he’s not by his side.  He touches Merlin more, too.  Gentle, lingering touches, like a hand on the small of his back, guiding Merlin when they walk together.  And hugs.  So many hugs.  Arthur tugs Merlin against his chest nearly every night, before Merlin leaves to return to Gaius’s chambers, hands on his waist, or carding through his hair, or stroking up and down his back.  Merlin wants it, too, clings to Arthur with fervor, face tucked into his neck, releasing all the day's tension and worry.  And it’s great, wonderful, even.  But Merlin doesn’t know why Arthur is doing all of this, and he’s far too nervous to ask.  He knows what he feels for his Prince, and has known it since the day he met him.  Despite Arthur’s arrogance, prattiness, and just being a dollophead in general, Merlin feels things for him.  Things that make him miss Arthur when he isn’t around, things that make his stomach flip whenever Arthur smiles at him in that goofy, dollophead way.  Things that make Merlin wake in the dead of night, sweat covered and breathing heavy, groin hard and eyes glassy, dreams of Arthur still lingering in his head, images of his strong, gentle hands. . . his face. . . his lips.