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It’s the week after yet another attack by Morgana during one of Kay’s weekly duty listings that Arthur decides he needs a short break.
“…Repairs in the lower town are taking longer than expected and they need more supplies, Sir Percival would like to leave on another quest for the Holy Grail—he says he’s almost sure of it this time— and you need to approve the mission, the Druids would like to arrange a meeting to discuss the potential plans for integrated Druid and non Druid schools, the counsel has refused your new revised budget, Beltane is in a few days and you need to have a speech ready, Sirs Lancelot and Leon wish to talk to you about some of the new knight recruits, Lord Bors is visiting next week and—”
The door slams open with an unnatural burst of force and Merlin walks through nonchalantly, face buried in a book.
“Hullo, Kay. It never ends, does it Arthur?” He says before flopping on the bed, still not looking up. Arthur mentally gives thanks for Merlin’s impeccable sense of timing (it somehow always allows him to be in the right place at the right time to either avoid work or help someone else avoid work, and while at times that’s irritating at other times that’s a godsend).
“You don’t know the half of it.” He turns back to Kay. “For today—send a messenger to the Druids to tell them I’ll meet with them first thing tomorrow. I’ll meet with the knights and the council today. Tell the kitchens to prepare something special for my dinner with them—they’re usually more, ah, open to my ideas when venison is served. I’ll deal with the rest later.”
Kay gives a curt nod before exiting the room. He’s always a little more formal around Merlin. Arthur suspects that that’s partially due to the fact that Merlin was his predecessor and partially due to his general disapproval of him. As Arthur’s manservant, Kay must notice that Merlin stays the night in Arthur’s chambers far more often than Gwen does. Luckily, it’s one of Kay’s better traits that he doesn’t voice his disapproval and he doesn’t spread gossip. Arthur knows Kay is loyal to him, and he’s thankful for it.
To the side, he sees Merlin put down the book and stretch out on his bed with a yawn, so he says, “I’ll have you know that invasion of the royal bed is a punishable offense.”
Merlin doesn’t miss a beat. “Funny, that wasn’t what you were saying last night.”
“Well you’re not doing any of the things you were last night, now are you, Merlin?”
Another yawn, this time longer. “Nope. But I am resting, which, last time I checked, was what a bed was supposed to be used for. And since you’re obviously not using it…”
He closes his eyes, and Arthur thinks that perhaps Merlin’s getting a little too comfortable talking back to him (and also, more pettily, if he has a lot of work to do so should Merlin) so maybe a punishment of some sort is in order. Resting as Merlin is, he doesn’t notice Arthur approaching until it’s too late. There’s enough time for him to let out an undignified yelp before Arthur pounces and they end up tussling until he’s got Merlin in a headlock. He grins triumphantly. “Say you’re sorry and I’ll let you go.”
“The only thing I’m sorry about is that you’re such a prat.” Merlin’s eyes glow golden, and in the next instant Arthur’s on his back and Merlin’s leaning over him, his arms bracketing Arthur’s head. “Nice to know that your sense of humor is still as infantile as ever, Arthur. You’re lucky I’ve discovered that putting me in a headlock is just your emotionally stunted way of saying ‘I love you’.”
Arthur fakes an offended expression. “Why then, I guess I’d better put you in a headlock every day.” He gets an eye roll in response, but it comes along with a grin so stupidly fond that Arthur can’t resist the urge to close the distance between them and kiss it off.
For a few moments it’s perfect, but then thoughts of his to-do list fill his mind and he collapses back on the bed with a groan.
“Merlinnn I need a short break. If I hear the word, ‘meeting’ one more time I’m going to punch something.”
“What a change from the way things usually are, sire. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you do that before.” The flippant comment is to be expected, but then Merlin seems to look at him carefully and a more serious look crosses his face. As much as he wants to rest, Arthur doesn’t want to be pitied, so he tries not to look too pathetic. Unfortunately, he really hasn’t gotten very much sleep in the last several days and he might have skipped a couple meals to help rebuild the lower town and he hasn’t been able to spend much time with Merlin or Gwen recently to recharge emotionally and there’s still so much to do…
Merlin seems to reach a conclusion. He holds out his hand, palm open. “Actually I think I know just the place. If you’ll allow me?”
Arthur hesitates for half a second before taking it. The world explodes in color and light, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s still holding Merlin’s hand but they’re leaning up against a large tree in the middle of a grassy field. The sun is shining and a light breeze is passing through the grass in a way that makes it look like it’s rippling. Somewhere above them a bird is chirping.
They must not be too far from the kingdom. “Where are we?”
“I used to come here to gather anise for Gaius and, ah, take short naps. I’d almost forgotten about it, but I do remember it was always a good place for resting.”
And Arthur can see what Merlin means. This place, still largely untouched by people, makes him feel almost nostalgic for the days when he was younger and Camelot was green and everything was new and undiscovered. In many ways, this meadow represents the best of Albion—the pristine, wild, land that Arthur loves with all his heart.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, and is surprised at the amount of emotion in his voice.
Merlin smiles, leans back against the tree, and closes his eyes. “There, you can’t say I don’t do anything for you.”
Arthur snorts but lets his head fall back against the tree as well, and they lapse into a comfortable silence. Soon Arthur finds he’s almost in a meditative state, breathing in and out deeply and watching the grass move.
There’s a strange sort of timelessness about this moment—the sunlight glinting off of the edges of the leaves, Merlin’s chest rising and falling softly, the air clean and quiet. Maybe if neither of them move, they can stay like this forever. Just Arthur and Merlin and a summer afternoon that stretches on indefinitely. He wonders, for a brief second, if it could. If he could ask Merlin to stop time for the two of them so they could live out their lives in this sunlit second, and Arthur would never have to deal with stubborn counselors or Morgana or the magic protestors or Holy Grail quests or a million other things ever again.
But Arthur is a warrior and a king by nature, and it has never been in his blood to rest for long, not when there were important things to be done (and there were always important things to be done). To shrug the mantle off onto someone else is out of the question. It’s his duty—to his knights, to his family, and to his people. It’s a duty he wouldn’t give up for the world for it’s one born of love, and so it’s one he will follow to whatever end it brings. Arthur may be idealistic, but he’s not naïve. He knows that there are prophecies and unlike Uther, he listens. Albion will someday fall, and he along with it. Merlin though… His gaze rests on the man besides him. If he could take Merlin out of this somehow, he’s not sure how far he would go to do it. He’s unsure of what Merlin’s role will be when the end comes, but he wonders if it could be avoided. Perhaps there’s some way in which Merlin can live out to an old age, peaceful and content and far, far away from Camelot.
But no. Arthur is a selfish man and of all the things that he can’t allow himself to have, Merlin has never been one of them. He’s always let himself just be with Merlin, and whether that’s been good or bad, Merlin’s always accepted it. Perhaps he’s tried to change him, but he’s never resented Arthur for it. He can always trust Merlin to feel the same way as he does—whether it’s loyalty or exasperation or love. To even suggest the idea would get him one of those withering looks that somehow manage to convey I love you but you’re an idiot because they both know Merlin will always be by his side every step of the way, during battles and rests alike.
And Arthur is so grateful.
The trees rustle above them, and he brings their entwined hands up to his lips to lay a light kiss on Merlin’s fingers. When he glances over at Merlin again, Merlin’s eyes are open. He hasn’t moved an inch, but his gaze is steady and bemused.
“Getting sappy in your old age again?”
“Something like that.” He squeezes Merlin’s hand. “Thank you for this.”
Merlin grins and reaches over to pluck a leaf out of his hair. It’s carried away by the breeze, and something light flutters in Arthur’s chest, like his lungs are expanding with air and they may never stop. There’s still so much to do but he knows he will do it and more— meeting with counsellors and Druids and neighboring lords included.
He looks out at the valley and says, “This kingdom is still young in so many ways, isn’t it Merlin?”
“Mm,” Merlin hums, a small smile on his face. “You have no idea what we still have yet to accomplish, Arthur.” He tucks his head against Arthur’s shoulder and follows his gaze.
The fields stretch out before them in seas of green, and in the distance Camelot gleams, its towers tall and proud.