Merthur - The King and His Guardian Angel

Chapter 19 - His Kingdom

Arthur has to drag himself through the hall, face sunken and hollow after what he was forced to watch. He ignores everyone that tries to talk to him: his knights, his uncle, Gaius, everyone. He knows what they'll say. His uncle would tell him he did the right thing, that Merlin was dangerous and a criminal. Gaius would look at him with that disapproving stare, the one that has always managed to crawl its way into his conscience. The physician would tell him that he was ashamed, that he thought Arthur was a better man before walking away. His knights would glare at him while conversing. They would pretend that nothing was wrong, but he'll be able to hear the slight edge in their voices, hear the venom in each word that poisons his heart with guilt.

He heaves a heavy sigh, causing the servants around him to give a wide berth as they scuttle past the grieving king. And for almost the tenth time since he left the balcony has he been reminded of his manservant. Merlin wouldn't have cared if he were in a bad mood. The idiot would have run up to him anyways, calling him a prat or a clotpole at the sight of his grumpy expression as he walked along side him back to his chambers.

Arthur enters his room quietly, first noticing that his chambers seemed significantly cleaner, and then looking up to find Merlin standing by the wardrobe with a frown on his face as he inspects one of Arthur's tunics. The warlock gives him a warm smile when he sees his king enter, bundling up the tunic in his hand and tossing it towards the laundry basket in the corner of the room. The smile drops though once he sees the expression on Arthur's face. "Did Agravaine find out?" he asks, a little urgently.

Arthur ignores the question. Instead, he walks over to the servant, wrapping his arms around the boy's thin shoulders in a tight embrace. Merlin doesn't say anything, simply brings his own arms up to return the action. Arthur tugs him in closer, basking in everything that is Merlin and holding onto him so he could never leave again.

He can feel Merlin running a gentle hand up and down his back, trying to calm the man in his arms. He can feel the warlock's breath against his cheek, can catch the scent of herbs in the servant's clothes as he presses in closer. Arthur runs his fingers through the servant's hair, caresses the boy's cheek with the back of his hand just wanting to touch him, to feel the boy's smooth skin against his own, to know that he was here and safe in his arms.

Merlin pulls back slightly a few moments later, brushing his lips against the king's momentarily before he lets go. He smiles up at the man in front of him, giving a small chuckle as he uses his fingers to comb through Arthur's hair. "I told you I'd be fine," he says, "It was only an illusion spell. None of what anyone saw was real."

The king reaches up and grabs Merlin's hand, bringing it down to his lips so he could kiss the knuckles. "I know..."

"Then what's wrong? You aren't your usual prattish self."

Arthur tightens his grip on Merlin's hand. "It's hard to watch. It all seemed so... real. To be able to smell the smoke and fire, to hear your screams and then knowing that Gaius, your friends, and..." he swallows thickly, "...Hunith are seeing everything that I see, hearing everything that I hear except they don't know what I know. They don't know that all of it is faked. An image created out of your magic."

Merlin stiffens at the mention of his mother's name. He pulls his hand from Arthur's grip, staring down at the floor in shame for having lied about his own death to his mother.

Arthur shifts his gaze away as well, eyes filled with guilt for a different reason. Those sorcerers that have died by his father's hand... they all had families as well, each and every one of them. Was this what all those families felt as they stood and watched their loved ones die? Was this the pain that his father subjected those innocents to?