The King and His Warlock || Merthur Prompt

The King and His Warlock

A breath was caught in Merlin's throat.

  He couldn't believe it.

  They lost.

  Camelot lost.

  Albion is gone.

  Morgause is in the reign now.

  Arthur struggled to prop his own body against a nearby tree, his sword on his lap, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.

  "We. . . lost?" The unbelieving undertone of his questioning statement was hard to listen to. It broke the warlock's heart to see his once-prince turned king look so disheveled and anemic. The fight was stripped away from his being. He looked borderline soulless.

  The blue eyed sorcerer wanted to drop on his knees and release the pent up anger and sorrow, for both him and Arthur, all built up in his system. He had a job to do, however -- and that was to successfully make Arthur the Once and Future King who would unite Albion without a hitch.

 Limping his way to Arthur's side -- his betrothed's -- and fell down on his backside, wrapping them both with his Pendragon Red cloak that would only belong to the court sorcerer of Camelot. He laid his head on Arthur's built shoulder and felt a calloused, rough hand slip behind and rake through his hair lovingly, another cupping his face and the thumb caressing his pale cheek. Merlin's glimmering, blue eyes, the gold swimming in the ocean pools of his soul like an illumination of the southern lights gazed into Arthur's crystal blue ones, like a precious jewel. 

  Soft lips pressed against his own and they moved slowly, uncoordinated but the connection was still there, then pulling away gently, their hands -- limbs -- were now a tangled, desperate mess. In the setting sun, the exposed rings -- their engagement, that was irritably postponed because of trouble in the lower towns, that pulled them even closer than they were before, a gold band that had a small, Pendragon red gem embedded on its cup, intricate dragon-like designs snaking around with their names engraved inside with grace -- glistened.

  "Arthur." The fallen king raised his dulled eyes to face his beloved. "If we could -- you could -- redo what we've wronged. . . would you do it?" A minuscule smile graced his lips and he leaned back, cradling the magic warlock in his strong arms. 

  "In a heartbeat. Would you?"

  Merlin's eyes widened and then eased into a knowing look. "Yes, I would."

  Then a ruffling of clothes, Arthur sat upright against the trunk, "Could you?"

  The young -- or not so young -- dragonlord followed suit. He turned towards his king and then offered a lopsided smile, "I could. But under some conditions."

  "What are those conditions you speak of?"

  Merlin chuckled, "We musn't tell anyone that we're from the future. Adding to that, we cannot overdo out prowess in the future past." 

  Arthur nodded, "Yes, that is. . . agreeable to terms. Mayhaps a bit troublesome, but we'd make do."

  Brown hair bobbed as the warlock shook his head .

  "As you wish, sire." Merlin grinned, "My love." He stood up, grasping the cloak and throwing it over his shoulder, clasping it, afterwards holding his hand out for the blond to take it. The King stood tall, hand gripping Merlin's like a vice. "Let us set off?"

  "Yes, of course." Blue jewels met glimmering gold, like molten sunlight, and then an embrace. "I love you."

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[567 words]