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“Gaius!” Arthur yells, storming into his apothecary. “Where on earth is that ridiculous manservant of mine? He was supposed to attend to me hours ago!”
Gaius startles, looking up from the potion he was mixing with a frown, “Pardon me, Sire, but I’ve not seen Merlin in hours. I assumed he was with you.”
“Don’t lie to me, Gaius. You’re making excuses for him again, aren’t you? Well, I suppose this one is much better than the tavern excuse. Tell me, where has the insufferable idiot run off too this time?” Arthur grouches petulantly.
“I’m not making excuses this time, Arthur,” Gaius frowns, worry creasing his features. It’s the look on his face combined with the use of Arthur’s first name that causes dread to pool in his stomach.
“You truly don’t know where he is?” Arthur verifies, lips pressing together at the grave expression on Gaius’ face. He turns on his heels to leave but for some reason, the door to Merlin’s room catches his eyes and he changes direction, pushing the slightly adjacent door wide open.
He feels his heart stop for a second as he scans the empty room. For as long as he’s known Merlin, his room has never been clean. It’s always looked as though a tornado has passed through; Merlin’s meager belongings strewn all about.
Now though, the bed is properly made and there’s nothing of Merlin’s to be found. Feeling like he’s about to be sick, Arthur inches forward to open the wardrobe only to find Merlin’s clothes all gone. Desperately, he drops to his knees and peers under the bed, finding nothing but a frayed scrap of cloth.
He pulls it out and dusts off the cobwebs, clenching it tightly in his fists when he recognizes the faded blue of one of Merlin’s old neckerchiefs.
“Gaius,” He calls weakly, his voice barely travelling to where Gaius is standing in the doorway, a hand pressed over his mouth as he reads a piece of parchment Arthur hadn’t noticed before.
Arthur looks up at him from the floor, scared to ask but needing to know, “What is it? What does it say?”
Gaius is somber as he passes the parchment to Arthur and Arthur’s hand trembles as he reads the words written in Merlin’s chicken scratch handwriting.
I’m sorry for leaving like this, Gaius, but I knew if I saw you, you’d convince me to stay and I couldn’t. I can’t stay here anymore, I can’t spend my days like this anymore. It’s been years and I wish things were different but they’re not. The more time passes, the more it kills me that Arthur will never see me as anything more than his servant. I’ve spent years putting him above all else and I can’t go on like this. Please understand. You’ve been like a father to me and I’ll never be able to tell you how much I appreciate all that you’ve done for me. Take care of yourself, you’ve to outlive us all. Please tell everyone I’m sorry.
Merlin
“Damn you, Merlin,” Arthur mutters, voice shaking as he fights to keep his composure. He’s not sure whether he wants to rage in anger or cry in grief and he’d rather not know.
“Sire,” Gaius begins but Arthur shakes his head as he clambers to his feet, storming out of the apothecary similar to the way he had entered.
-
“Get out,” Arthur snarls when he spots George lighting the fire in his chambers.
“Sire?” George’s voice is high and riddled with nerves in a way Merlin’s never is and it only serves to anger him further.
“I said get out!” He yells, grabbing the closest thing he can get his hands on - an empty wine pitcher that Merlin hadn’t yet gotten around to fulling - and throwing it at the wall. It clatters loudly as it makes impact and then bounces on the stone floor a few times. George wisely uses the time to slip out and it’s only then does Arthur collapse into a chair, his elbows on his knees as he holds his head in his hands.
He doesn’t understand. Never in his worst nightmares did he think that Merlin would ever leave him. He always foolishly thought the only thing that could separate them would be death itself.
...will never see me as anything more than his servant.
How could Merlin think that? He was Arthur’s closest friend, his best friend. He was the one person that meant the entire world to Arthur. He was the person he trusted the most. Arthur cherished Merlin’s friendship more than he could ever put into words.
How could Merlin think that he was nothing more than a servant to Arthur when Arthur had seen him as anything but?
Even from the very beginning, Merlin was different. Arthur had let him get away with much more than he should’ve, had given him more liberties than most because he had felt a bond with Merlin that he had never had with anyone else; a bond that had only grown stronger as the years went on.
“Arthur?” He looks up warily at the sound of Morgana’s voice, not in the mood to deal with her.
“My lady?” He questions, voice gruff. He doesn’t know what she sees on his face but her eyes grow softer as she lets herself into his chambers.
“It’s true, then? Merlin really has left?”
Arthur presses his lips together tightly as he pushes himself up from his chair and walks over to his window, gazing unseeingly at his kingdom.
“He has,” He says after a moment, speaking only when he’s sure the uncomfortable tingling in his throat won’t butcher his words.
A long time ago he had told Merlin that no man was worth his tears but the more he thought about it, the more he felt like Merlin might be.
“Oh, Arthur,” Morgana murmurs, her voice filled with sympathy. Arthur tenses, his muscles locking as though bracing himself for battle.
“Don’t,” He demands harshly. He doesn’t want Morgana to be sympathetic, to treat him as though he’s fragile.
“Are you going to send a patrol after him?”
“Why on Earth would I do that?” He spins around to look at her.
“Surely something’s wrong. Merlin wouldn’t just leave without even saying goodbye. He’d never leave you unless-”
He cuts her off with a broken laugh, the sound jarring even to his own ears. “I saw the letter myself, Morgana. He’s left of his own free will.”
He turns his back to her. “Leave me.”
He hears her hesitate but they both know there’s nothing that can be said to fix this. Soon enough, he hears the sound of her footsteps receding and then he’s alone again.
It’s the first time in years he’s truly felt alone.
-
“Sire,” Arthur hears Gwen’s voice from behind him and he sighs, turning from his newfound favorite spot by the window. He’s taken to spending his evenings overlooking the city now, wondering where Merlin is and what he’s doing despite his attempts to cast him from his mind.
“Guinevere,” He turns to face her, wariness tinting his words. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s been three days,” She frowns, disapproval marring her features. “Are you really not going to go after him?”
Artur scowls, dragging a hand over his face and then pinching the bridge of his nose to help his ever-present headache. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? No, I am not. Merlin made the choice to leave of his own free will and there is nothing I can do about that.”
“We both know that’s not true. I’d wager you could have Merlin back here within the next few days if you just stopped feeling sorry for yourself and went after him.”
Artur stares at her, wondering if she’s become deluded without her friend. How was he supposed to bring Merlin back when apparently he was the very reason Merlin left in the first place? “I beg your pardon?”
“I saw the letter, you know. I know that he left because he thought he didn’t mean much to you but that’s not true, is it? It’s clear to me that you care a whole lot about him, don’t you?”
Arthur purses his lips. “What does it matter? It obviously wasn’t clear to him.”
“Yes. And whose fault is that?” She raises an accusatory eyebrow but there’s no bite in her voice the way there usually is in Morgana’s. “I mean honestly, Arthur, how was he to know how you felt about him when all you did was bully him and push him around? Have you ever told him, even once, that you value him?”
Arthur gapes at her, the allegation stinging, “I shouldn’t have had to say it! He should’ve known, the same way you and Morgana do without me ever having said a word.”
Gwen gives him a look, “The only reason Morgana and I know is because we’ve grown up with you and we know firsthand how emotionally-repressed you are. To us, it was clear that you were only pulling on Merlin’s pigtails, so to speak, because you liked him but to him, he probably assumed you were pushing him around because you could.”
Arthur’s eyebrows furrow and he crosses his arms across his chest as he absorbs her words. He bites his lower lip guiltily, “Do you really think so?”
“Just think about it,” She gives his shoulder a slight squeeze and sends him a comforting smile before she leaves.
Arthur moves over to sit on his bed, pulling out the frayed scrap of cloth from its newfound spot under his pillow. He thumbs the threadbare fabric of Merlin’s handkerchief slowly as his mind reels.
He thinks about all the times he wanted to compliment Merlin, to tell him how beautiful he looked in the moonlight or how light Merlin’s smile made him feel. Of all the times he wanted to tell Merlin that if he died that day, he’d have been grateful to have gotten to know Merlin. Of all the times he wanted to thank Merlin for his loyalty and companionship. Of all the times he wanted to hold Merlin close and tell him how much of a treasure he was, of how much he loved him.
Of all the times he didn’t.
He was a coward, too scared that Merlin would see through him and realize Arthur’s true feelings, scared that he would damage their bond beyond reconciliation, so instead he had insulted him and rough-housed with him and now, that very fear had come true.
He had spent so long trying to cover his own feelings so that he could keep Merlin and instead, it was the very thing that made him lose him.
-
The dawn breaks with Arthur already on a horse, riding out of the citadel with one destination on his mind.
-
Merlin is collecting water from the well when he hears the commotion.
“The King is here!” One of the younger children yells excitedly and Merlin furrows his brow in confusion.
“Cenred?”
“No. The King of Camelot. You know him, don’t you?” She eagerly takes his hand and begins dragging him towards where everyone has gathered around Arthur, oblivious to the way Merlin has paled.
It’s been five days since Merlin has last seen Arthur and he catalogues the differences before Arthur can see him. His face is unshaved, stubble dotting the unblemished skin and Merlin remembers with a pang that it's his job to shave Arthur. His cheeks look a bit sunken in and there are more bags under his eyes than usual. He doesn’t look like the golden king Merlin knows, instead he looks tired and beaten down.
“Merlin,” Arthur whispers, breathing his name like a prayer when his eyes finally land on him. His eyes, at least, are just as blue and vibrant as Merlin remembers.
“Sire,” He greets, his tone polite for the first time. “What brings you to Ealdor?”
Arthur blinks, looking a bit wrong-footed, “I have some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
Like the way you left without a word, Merlin’s mind supplies but he dismisses the thought. He can’t think of another reason why Arthur would be here now but he also can’t think of a reason why Arthur would come this far to chase down a servant.
“Um, right. Follow me?” He turns on his heels and heads towards his mother’s hut, knowing without looking that Arthur would be trailing behind him.
“So,” He says when Arthur is seated opposite him at their table. “What was it exactly that you wanted to discuss?”
Arthur’s brows pull together as he frowns down at the tabletop. He takes a deep breath and brings his gaze up to meet Merlin’s. “Your letter. The one that you left Gaius.”
Merlin frowns. “What about it?”
“In it, you said that you left because I saw you as nothing more than a servant,” Arthur’s words are carefully measured but there’s an undercurrent of something that has Merlin on edge.
“I-yes.”
“At first, I was…” Arthur trails off, his gaze drifting downwards. “I don’t know what I was, to be honest. I was angry and hurt and I couldn’t understand how you could think that but then Gwen put some things into perspective for me and I realized that I was the one to blame for your misconceptions.”
“What does that even mean?” Merlin askes with uncertainty as Arthur’s hand settles over his on the table, his fingers gripping the insides of Merlin’s wrist.
“There’s a lot of things I’ve always wanted to say to you, things I held back purposefully. Ironically, after you left, they were the only things I wished I had said to you,” Arthur says, his voice more gentle than Merlin has ever heard it.
Merlin swallows roughly, “Things like what?”
Arthur sucks in a deep breath and squares his shoulders, visibly garnering his courage. He raises his eyes to meet Merlin’s, determination crossing his features. “Things like, you’re beautiful and I’m eternally grateful for your friendship and loyalty. You’re my closest friend and I trust you above all else. I cherish your advice and the way you never mince words around me. I appreciate all that you do for me and the way you’ve always seen me as a man first and a king second.”
“Arthur,” Merlin murmurs, vision blurry at the sincerity coating Arthur’s words but he just shakes his head and continues.
“You mean the world to me, Merlin, and I should have let you know that. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long but if you give me a chance, I promise I’ll make sure you never doubt your worth to me again.”
Merlin’s nodding before he even realizes it and within seconds, Arthur has rounded the table and pulled Merlin into a tight embrace. Merlin squeezes his eyes and holds him close, revelling in the feeling that he never thought he’d ever experience.
“Will you come back home with me?” Arthur questions, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s hair.
“Only if you hug me like this everyday,” Merlin teases.
“Done,” Arthur agrees, pulling back with a grin. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Merlin’s lips.
“I love you, too, by the way. In case that wasn’t clear,” Merlin adds on as an afterthought.
“Merlin, I said a lot of things but I don’t recall saying that I love you,” Arthur makes a face as Merlin shoves him but he doesn’t go very far.
“Fine then, I guess I’ll just stay here and-”
He’s cut off with another kiss. “I love you, even if you are insufferable most of the time.”
“It’s part of my charm,” Merlin wiggles his eyebrows and Arthur snorts but doesn’t disagree.