As Clear As Blood (A Merlin Fan Fiction)

[21]

The sun playfully drenched the sky in effulgent colours, scattering light around like confetti. It slowly pulled away from a kiss with the horizon, gliding gracefully into its rightful place, high in the sky as proud as a king. No one can fight the sun, you just have to let it drag you into day after day, an endless cycle of waking and sleeping. The dark abyss that had been swallowing up the distance, like a hungry beast, had been scared off by the luminous sun and the clouds were driven away still splashed with fading pale pinks and oranges.

Arthur forced his eyes open tirelessly, suspecting the bags under his eyes were permanently dented into his skin like scars. He pressed his unusually cold hand against his face, his sharp cheekbone cutting through him like a blade.

"So it wasn't a dream," Arthur grunted frustratedly, disappointment and annoyance bleeding uncontrollably through his skin, or rather, Merlin's skin.

He deprecated the very thought of having to go to his own chambers, to see himself being controlled by his brainless, puzzling servant.

Merlin had made sure he was dressed early since he didn't want to be in a mess when Arthur came in; he was trying his best to avoid the disapproving glances as Arthur had already managed to rebuke him for 'not taking care of Arthur's body.' It was likely to be a bit weird if Arthur were to enter and see himself, only half dressed. It definitely was not the same as having a mirror.

He sat on Arthur's bed patiently, his thumbs winding restlessly around each other in an apprehensive manner. After some time, he rose from the bed and lingered near it. Bewilderingly he abominated having nothing to do, he strangely craved to tidy up or do some chores as long as it would stop his thumbs from strangling each other.