Merthur - Forgotten

A Warmth in the Wind

"See how he forgets you, see how his gaze goes right through you." 

"And see how his walls crumble again beneath my fingers." 

___ ___ ___ 

It was true, then. Martin was leaving them and in his place was this... useless man. Useless to Arthur, anyway. Nobody needed a manservant anymore. It just wasn't done. Maybe a bodyguard could help make his life easier, but Arthur would not be seen by his subjects as the king who could not dress himself.

Yet, there was Merlin, tending to all of the things Arthur just didn't have time for. He was there in the morning, arranging flowers in the new light. He was at Arthur's side almost constantly and the prince thought he saw the resemblance between Merlin and Martin. Frustrating as it was to have another man tail him, Arthur was glad for the company. Merlin was a complete dolt.

Noon came and went, leaving heat in the stones of the palace. Arthur found himself lounging in the garden like a tired lion, pressing all that he could against the warm sandstone. Morgana was out in the village again and wouldn't be back for quite some time. Most importantly, however, his father was gone too. Where? That was still to be seen, but for now, he was gone and that meant Arthur had time to rest.

"It's probably warmer inside," Merlin spoke from behind him. Arthur turned and squinted through the already dying sunlight. There was a look on his face that the prince couldn't quite place. It was dull, but... purple. Definitely purple like a saddened passion.

"Are you cold, Merlin? You can go inside. There's no work for you here." Arthur turned away from him as he spoke. He didn't know how he could make it more clear to the servant that his servitude wasn't needed.

There was a scuff of Merlin's boots and a sigh. Arthur didn't have to look at him to know he'd sat down at his feet.

"You know what you are?" he asked, the middle finger of his left hand tapping against the ground. Each time Arthur looked at him, Merlin seemed different. Sometimes he looked like a complete idiot, ears and all. Other times, like just earlier, he looked as if he were battling a profound sadness. Then there were those inexplicable, frustratingly confusing times when he looked so familiar, Arthur thought he would explode.

"What am I?" Arthur responded distractedly.

"A prat."

The sharp look that Arthur gave him would have silenced anyone else except for maybe Morgana. Merlin looked at him steadily, eyes twinkling as if it were all some cosmic joke the prince didn't get.

"Do you want to elaborate, or are you content with a simple kick to the rear?"

Merlin uttered a laugh that chilled Arthur to the bone. "Let's see," he spoke, holding up five fingers, "You're a prat," one finger went down. "But we already know that. You're a dollop-head-"

"What does that even mean?"

"Hush! I've not finished."

Arthur raised his eyebrows at the raven-haired man sitting not inches away from a very kickable position. "I don't think you'll want to finish."

"Oh, I do. You're a clotpole, a toad-faced cabbage, and a turnip head."

Before he knew he was doing it, a thump and a weight against the heel of his boot told Arthur that he had, in fact, kicked Merlin. Not in the rear like he'd promised, but the hip was close enough to be effective. Merlin cried out in a mixture of pain and nervous laughter.

"What the hell are you laughing at, Merlin? I could have you in the tower without a trial by tonight."

Merlin scooted just out of his reach and a cloud drifted to cover the sun. The smile Arthur had mistaken for a nervous side effect lingered on his features for a while longer.

"I was just..." Merlin trailed off, his gaze searching Arthur's expression. He'd seen that look many times before on many different young women. For a moment, his stomach grew cold.

"Never mind, my lord." The purple expression returned to his face and Arthur forced himself to watch as Merlin turned away. A gust of wind blew through the garden and the prince was surprised to find that the first thing he noticed was the rustling of the trees, then the way Merlin's hair moved, then the billowing of Merlin's loose-fitting shirt.

He stood, recognizing the early signs of rain before it came. He couldn't help but think to himself: So much for my sunny day off. And then he was lifting Merlin by the scruff of his collar.

"Get up, you useless baby. You wanted to go inside and now would be the time."

Merlin didn't hesitate to brush away Arthur's hand. That act alone, the simple confidence of it, made Arthur shiver. Who was this man, to so openly defy the prince? Likewise, who did Arthur think he was, letting this idiot treat him with such disrespect.

Then Arthur corrected himself. Chastised himself. This was Merlin and he had every right in the world to treat Arthur this way because Arthur had acted so foolishly when they first met. Instead of trying to force Merlin further, Arthur retreated into the palace himself, knowing his servant wouldn't be so far behind.

___ ___ ___

"I'm thinking of going out tonight, Merlin," Arthur spoke as he scrolled through his Instagram; a boring, but useful commodity. "I know it's your first day, so I don't expect you to wait for me here. I'm leaving in an hour. You can go home."

Merlin had already lit the fire in Arthur's chambers, which hadn't been lit... well, Arthur supposed they hadn't been lit as long as Arthur slept there. It was a different kind of heat than that which flowed through the palace vents. More satisfying, he guessed, though he didn't really know. Now, Merlin was sweeping. Every second was filled with the gentle scraping of the bristles against stone. Arthur wasn't surprised when Merlin didn't answer, but he would be lying if he said it didn't worry him. If only just a little.

"Merlin," he said again.

There was no response.

"Merlin!" Arthur turned to him and saw the unmistakable glistening white of earpods. Merlin jumped and fumbled to take them out. The firelight didn't cover everything, but it definitely was bright enough to show the surprised expression. For a moment, just a moment, Merlin's eyes seemed to glow gold. Another effect of having lit the fire at a dark hour, Arthur reasoned.

"Sire?"

"Go home, Merlin. I don't need you here."

Merlin shuffled on his feet, uncomfortable at the prospect. "You know what I said about you being a prat?"

"This better be an apology."

"It's not."

"Then shut up."

Merlin's grip tightened on the metal broom handle and he let out an exasperated huff. "I meant every word of what I said and do you want to know why?" Merlin didn't give Arthur a chance to tell him no. "I- Martin and I spent a lot of time trying to get me this job and all throughout the day you've been trying to get me to quit. I'm doing everything for you! It's like nothing's changed! I washed your clothes, decorated- and cleaned- your room, got your sorry arse out of bed, cooked and brought you every meal-" Merlin cut himself off with a wave of his hand and a deep breath to calm himself down. Arthur was astounded by his outburst and... remarkably, impressed.

"I don't know how long it will take me to convince you, Arthur Pendragon, that I'm not leaving you, but make no mistake, I'm not."

There were many things about his behavior that struck Arthur as strange, but he could only name one. "You... will have to go home eventually."

All of the frustration that had fueled Merlin's anger seemed to have already melted away. Arthur had been expecting another flurry of insults, but all he got in return was, "For that, sire, I think I'll stay until well after you come home."