Merthur One Shots

Here With You

Date Published: November 20th, 2022
Word Count: 2158
A/N: I have so many one shots in the works that are way longer than this, but I was getting frustrated with not having anything to post, so I wrote this one in the meantime!

Merlin's hands moved on their own, knowing what to do without his mind having to tell them. They took Arthur's right arm and began to unbuckle the clasps to his wrist guard. His fingers were precise and accurate. There was no struggle with the strap. It came loose, allowing Merlin to pull it away. He placed it gently on the table so he didn't make any loud noises; then he repeated the action with his left arm.

This was a routine they did often. Arthur would finish some quest or win a battle, coming home exhausted and emotionally drained; of course, he wouldn't admit that latter bit. It was always Merlin's job to get the king out of his armor, but there was something different about these moments.

The sky outside was dark and the stars had already started to sparkle. Merlin had started a fire in the fireplace, which bathed the room in an orange glow, provided warmth, and offered its soft crackling as ambiance. It was the only thing in the room making noise, other than the soft rustling of Merlin's actions. There was a gentleness in the air that relaxed him. It let his mind empty of worries, focusing purely on the movements of his hands. He did not rush, but did not dawdle either. He worked at a perfect pace that maintained the calmness of the moment. The shoulder pieces he'd been working at joined the wrist guards on the table.

Merlin could only describe these moments as intimate. This was the closest he got to Arthur on a semi-regular basis. He could hear his deep breaths standing directly behind him. He undid the clasps to the chest plate. As the heavy piece of metal was removed, the king inhaled noticeably. The weight of the armor being lifted likely allowed him to breathe more deeply. He placed the chest plate on the table and turned around, waiting expectantly.

Neither of them needed to say anything as Arthur lifted his arms up. Merlin took ahold of the hem of his chainmail, expertly gathering enough of it to lift it off of the king in one smooth motion. Its links clinked together musically as he folded it and placed it with the rest of the armor. As he did so, Arthur sat down in one of the chairs. Merlin followed him and knelt down in front of him. He carefully unlaced his heavy boots, sliding them off.

Most servants likely hated this part of their job. Dressing and undressing someone was a chore, especially when armor was involved; yet it was relaxing to Merlin. Perhaps it was the methodical nature of their routine or how it provided a distraction from the stresses of the kingdom.

The king stood back up, padding over to stand in front of the fireplace. Merlin walked the opposite way to the small drawer beside his bed. This wasn't part of their routine every time, but after a quest or a fight like this, it was an added step. He retrieved a small bottle from the top drawer. He double checked its label, confirming it was the ointment Gaius had prepared for the king's pain.

Merlin nodded to himself as he walked over to where Arthur was standing. Setting it down on the mantle, he turned back to the king. His eyes were cast downward. Arthur was always distant after a tough fight; his body was still wired and prepared to defend itself, while his mind was trying to convince it the threat was over. The fresh memories of his knights dying or getting injured didn't help either. He wasn't exactly vulnerable, or open, but he wasn't as guarded as he typically was either. It was part of what made these moments feel intimate.

The raven-haired young man inhaled calmly, reaching up to undo the ties at the top of Arthur's shirt. They repeated the actions they'd done of the chainmail with more ease. The air of the room changed but only slightly.

Arthur was exposed now. His skin glowed as the light of the fire hit it. His torso was littered with past scars, but fresh bruises covered him too. Merlin's stomach swirled with something he compared to concern. It felt deeper than that, but there was no other word he would think of. He didn't like seeing his king injured, even though he should be used to it after all these years.