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“Let’s run away.”
Merlin’s eyes snapped to his face, when the words left Arthur’s mouth—so casually, so conversationally. Arthur made no move to change what he’d said or explain that it wasn’t as bad of a thing to say as it sounded, because it was, and he wouldn’t lie to Merlin. Not after all they’d been through.
“Arthur, as the prince, I think Camelot would notice if you suddenly disappeared,” Merlin retorted from where he sat a few paces from Arthur’s desk cleaning the floor, once he found his wits again.
Arthur simply shrugged and looked down to his desk, where his half-written speech mocked him. “I could name a few who wouldn’t,” he murmured.
He didn’t need to look up to see the worried frown forming on his servant’s face.
“Anyway,” Arthur cleared his throat loudly, picking up his quill and dipping it in the ink. He ignored the way his hand trembled as he did. “What are you still doing on the floor? You should have finished that a candlemark ago. The fire still needs stoked, the bed made, the curtains drawn, my sword polished—”
“You know, you order me around a lot when you’re ignoring your problems,” Merlin cut him off, though his voice held no playfulness or annoyance. It was gentle and concerned.
Arthur just scoffed and pressed his quill to the parchment harder than necessary. “I order you around a lot because you’re my servant.”
There was a moment of silence, then a soft sigh followed by the sound of Merlin pushing himself to his feet, then light footsteps approaching him.
“Arthur…” Merlin started, hesitant. Arthur looked up from his speech and turned in his chair slightly, to see him kneeling at his side. Merlin stayed quiet for a few seconds, his eyes scanning Arthur’s face. Then, gently—so gently—he asked, “Arthur, is everything okay?”
Arthur’s breathing hitched slightly, and he quickly cleared his throat again to cover it up. “Of course,” he assured Merlin, traitorous eyes beginning to sting.
“Of course, everything is fine. Why—" he looked away, blinking rapidly in hopes Merlin didn’t notice the tears, as his voice caught in his throat, “why would you presume otherwise? I’m just…busy, is all. Contrary to popular belief, Merlin, even princes get bored.”
“Arthur,” Merlin pressed, his tone firmer but still soft. He reached up and cupped Arthur’s cheek, slowly turning his face so Arthur was looking at him again. His brows were furrowed in that cute way that normally sent butterflies loose in Arthur’s stomach. Now it just sent guilt stabbing through his chest, knowing he was the cause of such worry.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re alright,” he ordered.
Arthur tugged his lip between his teeth, worrying it gently as he steadfastly avoided making eye contact with Merlin.
“Oh, cariad,” Merlin whispered at his lack of response.
“I’m fine, Merlin,” Arthur insisted, ignoring the way his voice broke. Ignoring the tears that slipped down his face. Ignoring the way, they both knew he was lying through his teeth.
“You’re not, but that’s alright,” Merlin told him, raising his other hand and gently wiping away Arthur’s tears. “We can’t always be alright. Come here…”
Merlin dropped his hands from Arthur’s face and stood up. Arthur looked up to him, frowning slightly. Then, Merlin pulled him up out of his chair and began leading him across the room to his bed.
“Merlin… I have to write my speech, it needs to be ready in two nights,” Arthur protested weakly, despite letting himself be dragged across the room. Merlin just hummed and pushed him onto the bed.
Arthur groaned as he was shoved onto his back, absolutely not pouting. Merlin grumbled something under his breath about Arthur and taking care of himself, but Arthur ignored him, sniffling quietly as he tried to pretend he wasn’t crying. Merlin knelt on the floor in front of the bed and tugged off Arthur’s boots, tossing them aside, before standing again.
“Come on, under the duvet we go,” he huffed, patting Arthur’s arm until he moved to lie properly on the bed against the pillows. Arthur rubbed the new tears off his face as Merlin pulled the covers over him, leaving one side untucked.
“You Pendragon’s and your absolute refusal to feel is ridiculous,” he muttered, but Arthur knew it was only out of love and worry.
“You’re the one who agreed to court me,” Arthur joked weakly, duvet up to his chin.
Merlin sighed softly and walked around to the other side of the bed. Carefully, he tugged off his own boots, then slid under the covers next to Arthur and wrapped them both in the duvet. “You’re right,” he conceded, before adding, “which means, you have to talk to me, when you’re feeling bad, so I can help you.”
“I’m…” Arthur trailed off, looking away as Merlin pulled him into his arms. Merlin just hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“I know, you’re learning,” Merlin murmured, “it wasn’t something you could do growing up, but now it is… I’ll never leave you, Arthur, I'll always be here to listen when you need it.”
“I know,” Arthur sighed, honest.
Merlin pulled him close, pressing their chests together, then their foreheads. Arthur let his eyes slowly fall shut, the tears finally done flowing. Merlin trailed a hand up from his waist to his face, brushing away the drying tears from moments earlier.
“Will you talk to me now?” He whispered.
Arthur knew he wanted to know what was wrong. He knew Merlin wanted Arthur to open up and confess everything that ailed him, and Arthur wanted to. Gods, he wanted to. And so, he did. For once, he finally did.
“I’m just tired,” he finally replied, “need a break. From it all, being a prince it—it’s exhausting. The weight of being the perfect heir is…crushing, and I wish, sometimes, I could get away from it all.”
Merlin nodded slowly, moving his hand back to his waist. “You don’t have to be that with me, Arthur.”
“I know.” And he did, and he was grateful. “I love you, Merlin.”
“I love you too, Arthur, I always will.” Merlin leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s lips. It was just a sweet, chaste kiss, but it still brought a smile onto Arthur’s face. “So, where would we run away to?”
Arthur hummed softly, shifting slightly in Merlin’s hold to get more comfortable, before swinging a leg over Merlin’s hip and sighing,
“I thought we could have a farm…”