The King and His Sorcerer

Part VIII: A Mistake

“Merlin, I need you to write this eulogy for me,” Arthur requested as soon as Merlin step foot into his and Gaius’ chambers.

Merlin skidded to a halt. It was not often that he saw the prince in there, surrounded by the potions and books that Gaius spent most of his time consumed with. It was very odd, indeed.

“Sire, what eulogy?” Merlin asked wearily, slinging his satchel onto a chair in the corner of the room, and proceeding to perch on the surface of the bench at which Arthur was seated. Arthur shuffled in his chair slightly.

“Some old knight of father’s has died, and he wants me to speak at the man’s pyre lighting ceremony. I don’t know how to write it the way he wants to hear it, Merlin. I – I need your help,” the last work spoken in such hushed tones Merlin could scarcely hear it. Arthur was such a proud man.

Merlin swung his legs, and replied: “But I don’t even know who he is, Arthur. How could I possibly help you?”

Arthur looked at him intensely. “Merlin, you help me every day.”

Heat rushed to Merlin’s cheeks. “That’s because I’m your manservant.”

“I was not only speaking of those duties, Merlin.”

Merlin looked everywhere in the room but Arthur’s face, almost afraid of what he would find there. After a few moments of silence, Arthur nudged Merlin’s knee with his fist.

“I know you are more eloquent with words, so just help me write this silly thing, would you?”

It was not in Merlin’s nature to deny Arthur anything, so he could not help but concede.

The two spent the next several hours writing the eulogy, stopping frequently for conversation of all manners of things. From Uther to Camelot’s food shortage, magic to combat, royalty to servitude. Never before had a more easy relationship existed between a prince and his manservant.

“No, Arthur! You cannot say that,” Merlin cried out, laughing.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with ‘I hope your eternal life is filled with more women than this one’?”

Merlin choked back another laugh. “It’s simply not appropriate.”

Sighing, Arthur crossed out the line. “I still think it’s a worthy sentiment,” he muttered under his breath.

“How about ‘I hope your eternal life is filled with bliss and happy reunions’?” Merlin suggested.

Arthur nodded, jotting down Merlin’s words. “Perfect.” Blowing on the ink in order to fasten the drying process, Arthur shook the piece of paper several times. “Done!” he cried, slamming the paper back down on the bench.

The force caused Merlin to nearly fall from his place on the bench, but Arthur’s hand shot out to grab his wrist. Merlin’s eyes met the prince’s, and he was startled by the fire he saw there. His heart did that ridiculous thing where it stopped beating and then raced to all new speeds. Entranced, Merlin watched as his wrist was pulled to Arthur’s mouth, where the prince’s lips then brushed the soft skin of his pulse point. Merlin shuddered at the feeling, his eyes fluttering half-closed.

“Ar…thur…”

Arthur kissed Merlin’s wrist again, and the young sorcerer’s head fell backwards in pleasure.

Suddenly, Merlin was yanked forward, where he found himself on the edge of the bench, legs either side of Arthur’s chair. He looked down on the face of the prince. He is so beautiful, he thought to himself. So very beautiful.

Arthur rose from his seat, and then Merlin was looking up at him, and Arthur’s gaze had him pinned there.

“Arthur,” he whispered, the word choked.

And then Arthur was pushing back from Merlin, running his hand through his hair again and again. Merlin stood, reaching for him.

“Arthur!”

The prince shook his head fiercely. “No, Merlin. That was a mistake. That was all it was. A mistake.”

Merlin could not hide the pain from his face. He could feel his eyes burning under the weight of unshed tears. But he did not make a move or a sound.

“A mistake,” Arthur repeated, and then he was gone.

The chamber felt utterly empty without his presence, and Merlin crumpled to the floor. Hours later, he was still there, the cold from the stone floor not comparing in the least to the pain within his heart.