Work Text:
Approx. 1609
Galileo Galilei was exactly the man described in history books. He was a proud, intelligent man, who left an impression on anyone who met him.
“My friend, you never tell me your name.”
Merlin thinks to himself. Merlin. He does not know the last time he was called that. Merlin. Emrys. Boy. Idiot. “I do not have one.”
“Ah, come now. All men have names. It is the only thing which makes us distinguishable.”
Merlin laughs. “It is easy for you to say that.”
“Me? Please,” Galileo guffawed. “I am the most common of men. A donkey’s hind would be more impressive than I am now.”
“You are brilliant, my friend,” Merlin smiles. “If you are common, then I fear the rest of us to be imbeciles. I have no doubt in your abilities.”
“My abilities are that of a moron, they will get me killed,” Galileo looks down at his hands. They are in Galileo’s research room, sharing a drink. Galileo is sitting by a table in the middle of the room. The walls are covered in mathematical equations, drawings of stars no other human had ever seen before. Merlin is looking at one of the walls, his gaze focused on each and every sketch. He never quite understood the fascination humanity had with discovery. Galileo’s room smells like paper and ink.
“Yes well, I never said they would not. You do have a penchant for riling a man up.”
Galileo chuckles. His laugh is strange. So different from what Merlin knows. It is deep and guttural, ricocheting inside his body and sending out an unexpectedly playful sound. It makes him younger, makes Merlin long for a boy he never knew, yet in some way did. Arthur was just like that too. Galileo's laugh was more aggressive in its manner, but Arthur was just like him in the way their laughs encompassed their bodies in warmth.
But Arthur is not Galileo, and Merlin will never not be reminded of that. “My friend, come. sit,” Merlin follows his request, sits himself across from where his friend sits. “I must confess something to you,” Galileo looks worried. He looks around the room as if he is looking for someone who is listening in on their conversation. Once he has determined that the room is safe, he continues; “I have come up with something. Something I truly fear will end with my head in the church’s hands.”
“Galileo-” The man cuts him off.
“I will present this thing to the Doge of Venice. As a tool for the military,” Now he is silent. Now he knows he must be. He knows Merlin will protest. He is right.
Merlin sits up in his chair, almost knocking his glass over in the process. “To the military? Have you lost your mind?” Galileo smiles. “You said exploration. When we first met you said your focus was on exploration, and natural philosophy, a-and astronomy. You never once mentioned weapons of war!” He gets up, threading a hand through his hair and pacing around the room.
“I know,” Galileo does not dare to meet Merlin’s eyes, instead he stares into the burgundy-coloured liquid in his glass.
“If I had known- If I knew you were going to do this, I would have never-”
“ I know ,” His voice is loud and booming. It finally makes Merlin stop pacing. They are looking at each other once more. “I know… my friend. But, I must. It is the only thing that can help me climb the ladder of discovery,” He raises his glass to his lips and takes another sip, drinking the remaining alcohol in it. “My friend. I need the money.”
“Well-”
“'Well, why don't you present it as it is .'” Galileo looks defeated. For the first time in the six years Merlin has known him, he looks tired. “Because I cannot. Believe me, my friend, I want to. I do not care for the military. I never have and I never will, but I am desperate. This can all end here, with my stubbornness, if I am unwilling to do things I do not want to do. So, I am compromising. I will present my invention as a weapon, a tool for them to exploit. In exchange, I will get the money I need to further my research,” Merlin sighs. He slumps his shoulders and sits down. And he understands. “You are so young, yet you look so tired. I have a feeling you have lived more than any of us, my friend.”
“You could say that,” Merlin says, filling up Galileo’s cup before they clink their glasses. Galileo purses his lips, lets himself think for a second.
“I do not want you to leave, my friend, but I know you. You have never been able to live in one place too long, yes?” Merlin just smiles. A tired chuckle escapes Galileo. “Stay until I have sorted the money. I will buy you dinner to celebrate and wave you goodbye that same night.”
Merlin, with his lips pressed into a deep line, only nods his head.