Merlin One Shots

Secret (Part 2)

The sky had darkened considerably by the time Arthur felt steady enough to push himself off the floor. He wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks, and drew in deep breaths, attempting to calm his erratic heartbeat. With tentative steps, he made his way over to his window, gazing out at the slowly approaching dusk.

The twilight sky seemed serene; painted with streaks of pink, orange and crimson, as the sun dipped lower to hide behind the mountains standing tall in the distance. The atmosphere seemed so peaceful and enchanting, that he never would have guessed that such a horrific crime against nature had taken place only hours before, had he not witnessed it with his own eyes.

He sighed tiredly, and turned away from the beautiful scene, that seemed to mock the complete chaos in his head. A shiver ran through his body, and a glance at the empty fireplace told him why. With a sudden jolt, he realised that Merlin would be arriving soon to light it and fetch his dinner. Merlin.

Gods he hoped the poor boy hadn't watched the execution. He hoped Merlin had been far far away from the castle looking for herbs or practicing magic or whatever scocerers did in their free time. Not that Arthur would ever ask him that question, though he supposed he already had a pretty good idea.

He had always felt that there was something strangely special about Merlin, and he had also been curious about the way his magic even seemed to reach out to the other boy at times. His suspicions had been confirmed, the night that Merlin had commanded the Great Dragon to cease his attack on Camelot; apparently under the impression that the prince was unconcious. He was no longer blind to the fact that many of the threats to him and Camelot had been thwarted by none other than his manservant. He had followed Merlin plenty of times on his nighttime escapades, soon after he had discovered his friend's secret; and despite popular belief, he wasn't incapable of putting two and two together.

He wasn't angry. In truth, he had no right to be. He had felt a small stab of betrayal and hurt at first, but that feeling had disappeared as soon as it had arrived; replaced by guilt and shame. He understood why Merlin was lying to him. Even he wouldn't tell himself the truth if he was in the warlock's position. What had he ever done to make Merlin feel safe enough to reveal himself? Nothing.

What Arthur didn't understand was why? Why was Merlin doing all of this for him, for Camelot? Hell why was he even in Camelot in the first place? Arthur had tried and failed many times, to think of a single thing that he'd done over the past couple of years, that had warranted such trust and loyalty from the other boy. And yet....there he was. At the prince's side, where he clearly plans to remain for the foreseeable future.

Groaning, he rubbed a tired hand over his face. His limbs had turned to lead, and his eyes were most likely bloodshot. He was exhausted. He glanced at his large, soft bed that appeared to be inviting him into its comfortable embrace. He knew better than to trust the deceitful beckoning. As soon as he hides under the covers and closes his eyes under the illusion of security, the events of the day would attack with a cruel vengeance. Nightmare after nightmare. Memory after memory after memory, of past mistakes.

A loud knock violently startled him out of his thoughts, and he whipped around to eye the closed door wearily. Had Merlin finay arrived?

"Arthur?", called a hesitant voice.

The prince raised an eyebrow at the sound; Merlin never knocked.

"Why is the door locked?"

Ah.

"Oh- uh...hang on" He replied quickly, walking towards the door, while fitting his usual mask of confidence firmly on his face.

He swung it open, to be met with Merlin's frown and questioning look.
Arthur ignored it.