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Merlin watched them thoughtfully- father and son: Uther making a rare, comforting gesture of tenderness toward Arthur, and Arthur, on his knees beside the throne, unashamed of his tears - and there was something in Merlin that envied him for this moment of closeness. Aside from Gaius, who tried as best he could to fill that role, there had never been anything like a father in his life.
It was hard to stay where he currently was. He would rather stand by Arthur's side as he had done all along, but he knew this wasn't the place or the moment to give in to that desire.
Merlin glanced at Gaius; then at Sir Leon. He had sent the guard away again and was now making sure that no one entered the room. Like the court physician, he had averted his eyes; giving father and son the opportunity to recover - without being exposed to prying eyes - from the emotional outburst that had almost cost one of them his life. Merlin could still sense the tension vibrating in the air - like a summer day just before a thunderstorm broke out.
His gaze returned to Arthur; wandered over the bowed head that rested against Uther's knee, over the slumped shoulders that spoke of a defeat he could hardly bear; so familiar was he with Arthur that not even the barely visible, subtle trembling of the muscles in his legs escaped him.
He would give anything to see Arthur as he had been before Morgause appeared; not this serious, silent, brooding version of him. He wanted to witness laughter in those blue eyes and the way his mouth twisted into a mocking grin.
Merlin was so absorbed in his contemplations that he almost didn't notice when Arthur straightened up. His hand rested on his father's arm for a moment and Uther placed his hand over it, squeezing it gently before taking a step back. Arthur picked up his sword, shifted away, and left. Merlin shot Gaius a look; half request for understanding, half question; and when Gaius nodded and pointed with his head to the door that was just closing behind Arthur, he gave him a fleeting, grateful smile and hastily followed the prince.
He caught up with him halfway and hurried after Arthur into his chamber, closing the door behind them and sliding the latch forward.
A moment later his back was pressed against the door, sword clattering on the floor and Arthur's arms coming around his waist, Arthur's face pressed hot and wet against his neck. Merlin wrapped both arms around his neck and held him as tight as he could. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against Arthur's temple, feeling fine blond hair move as he exhaled. "I'm sorry." It was hard to say what it was that he was most sorry for... that Arthur had experienced what it was like to have a mother, just to lose her again the next? That Arthur had almost killed his father, and that more lies saved him? That deep down he believed every word Morgause had said about Arthur's mother and the circumstances of his birth was true? He couldn't even explain where it came from, only that he knew with the same certainty that it must continue to be a lie to Arthur. How could a man live with the knowledge that he was the cause of so much bloodshed?
Merlin hugged him tight, ignoring the uncomfortable pressure of the armor against his body and the almost painful squeeze of Arthur's arms around his middle, and let his hands, stroking through blond hair, say all that his mouth wasn't allowed to.
He couldn't tell how long they stood there until Arthur broke away and turned away from him. Merlin stepped behind him and wordlessly began to undo the straps that held his armor in place; laying one piece after another on the table. He took off his chain mail and the tunic he wore underneath and dropped everything on a chair, retrieving the sword and placing it on the table with the other items. While Arthur washed his face and hands, he silently searched for fresh clothes and brought them to Arthur. He lit the candles on the table - for by now night had fallen - and considered getting some food from the kitchen and perhaps wine to help Arthur sleep better. Not that Merlin thought the same applied to him. He was sure the contents of an entire barrel of wine wouldn't be enough to let him sleep tonight.
Before Merlin had made up his mind, he felt Arthur's strong arms around his middle again, body pressed against his back.
"Stay," Arthur whispered in his ear, and a cold shiver ran down Merlin's spine. He leaned back, turned his head, and kissed him. "Stay." It was the first and only thing Arthur said to him that night, but Merlin didn't mind the missing words.
Not when Arthur's mouth on his and warm hands on his skin explained so much more.
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Merlin opened his eyes, wide, to grasp the expression on Arthur's face as he knelt over him in the half-light; and the faint smile that played around Arthur's mouth did little to soften the sadness in his eyes. Merlin lifted his head, and kissed him, slowly letting Arthur's weight press him into the sheets.
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Later, he lay awake, watching the shadows cast on the walls by the dying candles; safe in the prince's arms, or perhaps it was Arthur who slept safe in his arms, face pressed against Merlin's collarbone, one leg wrapped over his as if to make sure he didn't walk away in the night. As if he could leave even if he wanted to.
He rocked Arthur gently as he dreamed and stroked through sweat-damp blond hair; over shoulders that weren't exactly relaxed even in sleep and pressed a kiss to Arthur's temple, murmuring his name and wordless reassurances until Arthur stopped moving restlessly and sank back into deeper sleep. Merlin wished he could follow him into his dreams and keep them from him.
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It was bright but still early in the morning when Merlin awoke - and discovered he was alone in bed. He sat up and caught sight of Arthur standing by the window, already dressed. He didn't stir as Merlin gathered his clothes and dressed.
Only when Merlin began to put away all the things that were scattered around the room Arthur started to speak - and with each word Merlin felt another fine crack opening in his heart; how the moment - which he had thought was finally here - when he could tell Arthur the truth about himself, was growing farther and farther away.
He swallowed down the tears that formed in his eyes against his will and forced a light tone into his voice as he said, "I'm glad I could help." Then, under the pretense of getting Arthur his breakfast, he fled the room.
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Merlin left Arthur alone with his breakfast; explained he didn't want Gaius to worry because he had stayed out all night, and besides, he was still wearing his dusty clothes from their trip. Arthur nodded and dismissed him with a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and the fleeting, perhaps grateful, pressure of fingers against his.
As Merlin stepped into the tower, he hoped Gaius wasn't there. Answering questions or being reprimanded for interfering was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. He shuffled inside and took off the bag - turned around and found himself facing Uther.
Merlin stared at Uther; caught for a moment in the irrational panic that the king knew where he had spent the night, and with whom, and most importantly, with what, and that he was here to single-handedly behead him for it. His panic lasted until Uther thanked him and then changed into hysterical disbelief when he realized that Uther was thanking him for his efforts in the fight against magic.
The irony of the situation left a bitter taste on Merlin's tongue.
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