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In the empty throne room, Uther’s voice resonated, echoing against the stone to amplify his angry words. Arthur stood frozen, his head bowed. He had failed in his quest. He hadn’t caught the sorcerer his father had sent him to arrest. The man hadn’t caused any trouble, he hadn’t done anything evil with his powers. So, Arthur had allowed him to flee. Of course, he hadn’t revealed that to his father, or he wouldn’t have received only angry words. Arthur had thought he was prepared to face the King’s ire. He really wasn’t. not when Uther was this enraged.
“I loathe the day you were born, Arthur,” Uther said, his voice taking a low and dangerous tone, “your mother sacrificed your life for yours, and now I see that you weren’t worth it.”
Arthur was used to his father’s wrath. He was used to hearing his disappointment. He was even acquainted with the more physical expression of his anger. But nothing had ever hurt more than those words. Arthur held back his tears, knowing he wouldn’t receive any sympathy from the King if he cried. His body was shaking with restrained emotions, and he had to tense his muscles to conceal the tremors. He wanted nothing more than to run out of the throne room and find shelter in his chambers, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave before the King dismissed him.
He didn’t dare looking at his father’s face. He didn’t want to catch Uther’s cold, hard gaze and see his lips downturned in contempt. He didn’t want his father to see his shattered heart on display on his face. Arthur had always hated the throne room. It was resplendent, decorated in heavy red drapes and shiny gold. But it was also cold and merciless. There had never been anyone to defend him, to protect him and comfort him in this room. It had always been Uther standing tall and threatening over a small and quivering Arthur. Arthur hated this room for everything it symbolized. All the deaths that had been ordered between those cold walls, all the cutting words that had been thrown at Arthur, and sometimes at Morgana, too. Arthur had always been on his own as soon as the heavy oak doors closed behind the guards.
Finally, Uther seemed to have got bored of berating his disappointing son and said, “Get out. I don’t want to see your face anymore.”
And although the words stung like a slap on his face, Arthur was relieved to be able to leave. With his eyes blurry with unshed tears and restrained sobs forming a lump in his throat, Arthur walked back to his room. He couldn’t afford to show weakness in the corridors. He was the Crown Prince, he couldn’t simply burst in tears where everyone could see. But in the safety of his chambers, he would at last be granted the right to fall down on his knees and weep. The journey to his room had never seemed so long before, and his wobbly legs threatened to give up on him with each step he took. At least, he had dismissed Merlin when he had been summoned by the King, so his servant wouldn’t have to witness his master falling to pieces.
As soon as the door of his room was closed, Arthur’s knees buckled and he let himself fall to the unforgiving floor, his back pressed against the wood. Tears started streaming down his face before he even noticed, and he distantly heard the pitiful sobs that emanated from somewhere deep in his chest. He was used to his father calling him a disappointment, unworthy of the crown that would one day rest on his head. But never before had Uther said he wished Arthur hadn’t been born. He had killed his mother by coming into this world, and the guilt of that weighed heavy on his shoulders every day. But to hear that his father resented the day he was born, to hear confirmation of his won feelings from his own father’s mouth, that had been too much for his heart.
Arthur startled when a soft hand landed on his shoulder. He had thought he was alone in his room, safely hidden from the outside. He hadn’t even looked around to see if anyone was there. There was a voice whispering in his ear. Arthur was too submerged by his torrent of emotions to understand the words, but the voice was kind, gentle, calming. Lean but strong arms guided his head to rest on a bony shoulder, long fingers running through his hair in a soothing motion. Arthur was still shaking, choked sobs fighting their way out of his chest. He was sure his face was covered in tears and snot. He imagined he made quite a pathetic picture. But the person holding him in their arms didn’t seem to care. They kept whispering gently in his ear, sometimes warm lips would press light kisses on his temple and forehead. Strong arms kept holding him, tight enough to feel comforting but not constricting.
Finally, the sobs subsided, and Arthur’s mind started getting clearer. Clear enough to hear the words that were whispered in his ear and recognise the voice.
“Shhh, it’s alright. You’re going to be alright. Let it all out, it’s okay to cry. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you,” Merlin whispered against Arthur’s temple.
For a few seconds, Arthur closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply bask in the tenderness that Merlin offered him. In any other circumstance, Arthur would have pushed him away, too embarrassed to accept the comfort. But it wasn’t any other circumstance and Arthur felt drained. He felt like Merlin’s arms around his shoulders were the only thing keeping him whole. Arthur turned a bit in Merlin’s arms so that he was able to wrap his own arms around Merlin’s waist and hide his face in the crook of his neck. He breathed a few times, letting Merlin’s smell calm him. He had never felt safer, more loved and protected. Between Merlin’s arms, he felt untouchable.
“Whatever your father told you, he was wrong. You’re amazing, Arthur. You’re kind and caring, you always try to do what is right. The people love you. They trust you. They follow your lead because they believe in you, not because they fear you.”
Merlin always spoke with such conviction, such faith, that it took Arthur’s breath away. To be gifted the trust of this kind, gentle, incredibly strong man, was the best thing Arthur could ever wish for. Merlin made him stronger, surer about himself. He was always there, even when Arthur didn’t want him to be, and he always provided Arthur with the comfort he needed.
Arthur sniffed, frowning as he felt the salt from his tears on his lips. He grimaced as he untangled himself from Merlin, rubbing at his face with his sleeve. He thought of his father’s horrified face if he saw Arthur do that and for some reason, it made him chuckle.
“Thank you for being here, Merlin,” Arthur said. Usually, he would have said something scathing, thrown some insult and acted like a pompous prat. But Merlin had already seen him at his most vulnerable. There was nothing left for him to hide, no pride left to protect under a wall of indifference. He had always thought it would be frightening to bare his heart to someone else’s eyes, and in a way it was. With anyone else, it would be terrifying. But with Merlin, it felt safe. Merlin had seen his broken heart and instead of taking advantage of it, he had gathered it in gentle hands and put the shards back together.
With a wave of his hand and a flash of gold in his eyes, Merlin had a goblet of water in his hand. He handed it to Arthur with a small, uncertain smile. Arthur had had a suspicion that Merlin was a sorcerer, there were just too many coincidences, too many instances of good luck. But he had never seen Merlin do magic before. Merlin had seen Arthur’s heart and now he offered his soul to Arthur in exchange.
“That’s handy,” Arthur said with a small smile, before sipping the water.
They stayed there, in silence, with their backs against the door and their shoulders touching. But after a while, when the sun was low in the sky and their bodies ached from sitting on the cold stone floor, Arthur got up, offering a hand to Merlin.
“I’ll ask a servant to bring us dinner. I’m starving, and you must be too.”
Merlin only nodded, smiling at his prince like he had been gifted the best present ever. And Arthur thought, maybe he had.