Heartquake

Heartquake 15

Merlin lets his hand travel as he turns and ends on his stomach, starting from Arthur’s hair, then downwards towards his cheekbones, then swiping a finger along his lips. Arthur blinks his eyes open and, as if on instinct, his hand grips on the sword lying next to him.

“It’s just me,” Merlin assures him.

“Merlin,” Arthur looks up to him. “Are you alright?”

Merlin intertwines their fingers together, and practically feels Arthur’s eyes poring into his.

“I need you so much closer.”

Arthur says nothing to this, just kicks away his sheets like he’s glad to be rid of them, and lies next to Merlin on the bed, facing him, and one arm around him. Merlin needs him to kiss him, he needs the reassurance that he hasn’t lost him yet but Arthur almost looks scared of the thought, like he thinks that Merlin is so fragile that one kiss could break him.

So Merlin leans forward and kisses him, until he knows Arthur can’t resist anymore, that he’ll have to make contact, and he does, because he knows him. His lips are on him hungrily, desperately, even, as if they’re making a silent point, and Merlin takes it, because he needs to understand.

“I,” Arthur manages between kisses, “fucking, love you. So much. You pathetic, stupid, idiot.”

“I love you, too,” Merlin begins rolling over and straddling his hips, then leans down one more time for another kiss, “you supercilious, condescending, prat of a prince.” He kisses him as his body rocks against Arthur’s, where he wants to live forever.

Arthur wakes up in a few hours, though Merlin is still snug in his arms. He separates himself from the sated, sleeping body and makes sure his chest is wrapped in the sheets before putting on his tunic and going out the door.

The morning’s still new, so no one’s really awake, except for himself, but, the thing is, he usually wakes early. Sometimes he just roams the castle for a few hours then goes back to bed, pretending to be asleep when Merlin wakes him.

It’s silly, of course, but Arthur likes the idea of seeing Merlin as the first thing in the morning. Now, he gets to see him whenever he likes. The idea makes him feel like a child, a bit stupid and a lot naïve.

He brings his sword along, just out of habit, there’s no real harm in Ealdor, after all, and goes out the door, into the sitting room that doubles as a kitchen. He doesn’t expect Hunith to be sitting there, as well.

“Morning,” she smiles.

“Good morning, Hunith,” Arthur says politely. “Where’s Em?”

“Outside, playing. Ellyn’s mother is looking after her.”

“Ah, well,” he says awkwardly. “I was just going out for a walk.”

“Sit a while, I want to talk to you,” she says. There’s a small fear that comes with that request, as he sits down next to her on the wooden bench.

“What is it, Hunith?” Arthur asks.

“It’s about Merlin. With everything that’s been happening to him, Emeline, and Ellyn’s death, he needs someone who can be there for him, someone to look out for him. You understand that, yes?”

“Yes, of course. I’m doing just that.” Hunith looks at him, her eyes judging him, as if he’s lying or not, like any sensible mother would do then her expression softens, like she’s made her decision.

“I see the way he looks at you. His respect, his trust, his adoration, I can see it in his eyes. He’s my son; all a mother wants is for her child to be happy. I want someone to look at him as he does you, sire, and you do.” Arthur is speechless to this.

“Just take care of him, okay? And accept him, for all he is, because, not many people knows this, but love, dear, is about acceptance.”

“Hunith,” Arthur holds her hand, “I give you my word.”

She smiles and pulls his face closer so she can press a kiss on his forehead. It must be like this to have a mother, and one that cares so deeply for you, and he likes the feeling.

This family of Merlin’s, Em, Hunith, Will, even Ellyn, for the millisecond they shared, it’s like he’s been accepted here, loved here.

“Good, now,” she wipes a tear off her cheek, “shall we have some tea?”