Wrap Your Arms Around Me (merdred)

7. Rhythm

    "HEY, GOOD MORNING," Mordred whispered into his ear the next morning, his arms still tightly around Merlin's waist. "How'd you sleep?"

Merlin swallowed and looked at the edge of the pillow on the bed. A frown made its way to his lips and stayed there like the plague. "Fine," he mumbled dryly.

Mordred instantly matched his frown. "What's the matter?"

This was the matter.

Merlin stared at the knight's hands that were clasped together at his stomach. Their legs were, once again, tangled together and Mordred's chin was pressed into his shoulder. He liked his touches. It made him feel safe, and oddly... loved. But it wasn't right.

He was internally conflicted. His heart was yearning to stay, but his mind was telling him to leave, to get as far away from Mordred as possible. Which was he supposed to listen to?

If he followed his heart, that meant he was keeping his guard down. It meant he'd be getting too close to Mordred and he'd be risking putting Arthur in danger.

Alternatively, if he listened to his mind, it meant he had to leave Mordred, which he didn't want to do. The knight was so different than he'd originally thought. He was kind and gentle to Merlin. He was smart and skilled as a knight, especially for a beginner. He was funny and witty, always making him and the knights laugh. And he cared for Merlin just like his mother had. Was that what this was? Mordred was replacing some sort of neglect from leaving his mother.

Whatever it was, it was wrong. He had to be on high alert for whenever Mordred decided to turn against them. Merlin simply could not wear his heart on his sleeve. He had to follow his gut.

Merlin painfully pulled away from his grasp. He missed the man's body heat, his chin pressing into his shoulder. But this was how it had to be. So he got up from the bed, despite all his thoughts. He searched the room for his boots and finally, finding them under the bed, he slipped them onto his bare feet.

"What? Merlin, hold on a second," Mordred exclaimed, jumping out of bed. But the servant stood up and began walking to the door, away from him. "Wait, what's wrong?"

Merlin swallowed a lump in his throat. He turned towards Mordred and shot him a glare. "This is wrong! Stay away from me. And don't talk to me again unless you have to," he picked up his jacket and left the room without another word from Mordred.

He quickly walked down to the kitchen and snatched Arthur's meal up, making his way to his chambers. Merlin barged through the door and slammed the plate on the table louder than he intended. He went over to the side of Arthur's bed and whipped the covers off of him abruptly. "Get up, sire," he snapped.

The king yawned and slowly opened his eyes to see an angry manservant before him. He quirked an eyebrow before Merlin left to get clothes from the cupboard. He snatched something random out of it and walked back to Arthur, shoving them into his chest.

"What the hell is up with you?" Arthur snapped, moving over to his table for a nice breakfast before he got dressed.

"Nothing," Merlin shot back as he prepared his armour for morning training, "and get dressed already so I can get on with my day."

Arthur's eyes widened in shock. Merlin hardly ever talked to him this way. It was concerning.

"Merlin, might I remind you you're my servant and I'm your king. You cannot talk to me that way. Now, explain yourself."

Merlin rolled his eyes and set the armour on the table, it rattled loudly as he walked past it out of the room. "Fine! Get dressed yourself then," he seethed and slammed the door on the king's face.