Heartquake

Heartquake 19

She smiles and it’s almost expected, as if he’s always known it would happen in this context, when she leans in and gives him the chastest of kisses on his lips.

“You and I both know love isn’t easy, Merlin,” she says softly. They press their foreheads together then Morgana leaves him in that corner alone.

In the hallway, he can see, is Sir Leon, who beams when he sees her. As they walk on, he can see their hands touching.

Morgana leaves soon, mumbling about something she has to do, and leaves Arthur with his thoughts. She’s right, about all of she said. Merlin doesn’t lie; he should know that, too.

Arthur has grown up thinking the worst of sorcerers and people with magic, even if they did no actual harm to others. He grew up thinking all those with magic will just destroy him. But Merlin, he did nothing to destroy him. He protected him.

Merlin has magic, has power beyond his wildest imaginations, yet he doesn’t rampage the kingdom and make the walls shake from his power, no, he stays behind and mucks the stables and polishes Arthur’s chain mail. Surely a sorcerer that powerful would not be stuck just being Prince Arthur’s manservant.

His father tells him that sorcerers will destroy them, but all Merlin ever did was destroy all those that wanted to destroy him.

When he goes to Gaius’ chambers, it’s empty. Arthur’s heart grows heavy with the thought that Merlin and Emeline have gone already and he’s too late and they’ll never know…

But the door to Merlin’s room opens and Em looks at him warily. “Em,” he breathes out in relief. “Em, come here.”

She does, with slow, cautious steps, walk towards him, until he can see, clearly, her face. Her sweet, adoring face, that once looked to him with love and care and he’ll do anything to have that again. No more stupid mistakes. No more.

“I want to say that I’m sorry. Really sorry, for everything I did to you, and Merlin. I hope you forgive me,” he says.

He doesn’t expect her to jump into his arms and say that he’s forgiven, but he does expect something. There’s nothing, though, her face is blank and he wonders if she understood. Merlin’s not here right now, and he’s said what he had to, to Em. Perhaps, if he just turned right now and left…

“You can’t leave!” Emeline appears at his feet as he turns. “You can’t leave again!”

“I wasn’t…”

“You can’t leave again because, then, Daddy will cry again. You can’t leave because, then, I will have to bite you ‘cos Daddy’s still mad at you! You can’t leave again!”

“Hey, Em, it’s alright,” Arthur says and gives her a smile.

The door opens, revealing a very perplexed-looking Merlin. When he plants his eyes on Arthur, however, his expression changes from confused to just pissed off.

“Arthur!” Merlin says angrily. “What the fu-I mean, what on earth are you doing here?”

Arthur can’t think of something witty to say, nothing more than an apology, so what he does instead is kneel down at Merlin’s feet. He’s never bowed to anyone except for his father, because he never met someone with enough power to command over him but his king.

But Merlin, he has the power to rewrite destiny’s words, to make a new world, with him, if he’ll let him, and, most importantly to him, Merlin has the power over Arthur’s own heart. Merlin has the command over his very soul, to melt it with his smile, to rebuild it with his touches, to make it stronger with his words.

So he bows, places his sword on the ground. For a moment, his eyes are on the ground but they look up to Merlin, expecting some sort of action. A slap, a kiss, a hug, a magical spell; anything. But, like his daughter, his face shows no such expression.

Then his mouth goes slack-jawed and opens to answer but Arthur won’t let him.

“Before you do or say anything,” the prince says. “I want to apologize, for all I’ve done to both of you, and to let you know I accept you both wholeheartedly, and also that I love you, Merlin, and you, Emeline, and will do so until the day I die, and all days after that. I hope you can forgive me.”

He bows his head again for good measure. “Pick up your sword,” Merlin says. Arthur does so without contest. “Stand up, Arthur.”