A Different Destiny / Merthur

Night

Arthur had been watching him fiddle with the hems of his sleeves. He seemed to do that a lot. He'd pull at the sleeves until they frayed. It was like a nervous habit. Something subconscious.

"Arthur?"

"It's nothing."

"It's something."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur sighed, flopping down on the bed. Then, glancing up at Merlin, who was still stood beside the door, he added: "you can leave the fire, by the way. And stop standing there like that, you look like a creep."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Where should I stand then?"

"Don't be difficult."

"It's a simple question."

"Just come here," Arthur waved an arm at the empty space beside him. "No falling asleep though."

Merlin stared at him for a moment, half-convinced he'd misheard.  It was only when Arthur moved over a little, making more room, that Merlin hesitantly crawled onto the edge of the bed and lay down beside him.

Arthur chuckled.  "You'll fall off there.  In fact, I'm tempted to push you."

"And why," Merlin huffed, "would I want to be any closer to you when you make comments like that?"

"I'm the Prince, Merlin, most people would love to be this close to me."

"Yeah, well I'm not most people."

"Evidently."

"You're more of a prat than a Prince, actually."

Arthur didn't need to look to know that Merlin was smiling.  He could picture him exactly: stretched across the edge of the bed, arms folded, staring at the ceiling, with a small smile spreading its way across his face.  "Really," Arthur smirked, "is that so?"

"Yes.  You're a prat and you're lucky that I grace you with my presence."

Arthur laughed, and then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth; it was quite late, and he really didn't want to attract the attention of the guards.  Instead, he shoved Merlin's shoulder lightly and, rather than let him fall, Arthur kept a steady grip on Merlin's jacket and tugged him towards the centre of the bed.  "Better?"

It was better.  Being nearer the centre of the bed meant two things: comfort and warmth.  Comfort, because the duvet — though Merlin was on top of it rather than underneath — was softer; and warmth, because despite the slight chill of the room, Arthur seemed to radiate heat.  Being close to him was snug.

"Well?"

"Yes," Merlin smiled, "better."

"Good."

"Arthur?"

"What."

"I need to tell you something."

"Tell me then."

"Do you promise not to be angry?"

"No."

Merlin was suddenly very aware of the room's silence. "I can't tell you why but I, uh," he cleared his throat and dropped his voice to a whisper, "I told Gwen and Morgana about my magic."

"You what?"

"I told—"

Arthur hit him in the face with a pillow.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?" Arthur hissed, "why the hell would you— Morgana is the King's ward!"

"So? You're the Prince!"

Arthur dragged his hands over his face and groaned. "That's— that's different."

"She's not going to tell anyone, and neither will Gwen."

"That's not the point, Merlin."

"Then what is the point?"

"The point," Arthur sighed, dropping his hands to his sides, "is that you cannot keep telling people. It's a secret for a reason, Merlin. If the wrong person found out — if my Father found out — do you have any idea what would happen?"

"Of course I—"

"You could be killed! They'd torture you, for gods sakes, they'd burn you at the stake," Arthur shuddered, "and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened."

For a moment, Merlin lay completely still.  Then, without a word, he reached out and brushed Arthur's hand with his fingertips.  He wanted to whisper that it was going to be okay, and that he was sorry — because really, he never thought that Arthur would be distressed or upset or anything other than perhaps a little angry.  He wanted to reassure him.  He wanted to help calm him down.  But, when Arthur laced their fingers together, his warm hand soft against Merlin's own, he felt all his words fall away.

Even now, with his life potentially at stake, Arthur could tell that Merlin had found a way to worry about someone else: to worry about him.  He truly was a wonder.  It was as if he was incapable of being anything but selfless.  His heart was simply too big.  And all Arthur wanted was to keep him close. 

To hold him.

To keep him safe.

And, lying there in the dark, with Arthur tracing his thumb in slow circles across the back of his hand, Merlin felt more than safe.

He felt at home.

A/N

Not to be a clown, but seeing Bradley post from Tintagel while Eoin makes vague comments about "something" Merlin related has really got me feeling some type of way

I mean, what if they did a small reincarnated!Arthur AU or something... ahahah just kidding... unless ???

~ Kat