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“And what about this one?” Arthur traces a long, thin white scar on Merlin’s back with his finger.
“Bandits. The Kings pass.”
“This one?” He presses a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder.
“From the dragon.”
“This one?” Arthur’s fingers come to rest on a deep purple scar right over Merlin’s heart. Merlin doesn’t respond. He just puts his hand over Arthur’s.
Days later, they stand in the council hall. His father’s throne room. On opposite sides.
The sunlight through the stained glass is purple on the floor.
Uther’s voice is rich and authoritative and it demands a certain attention as it fills the room.
Arthur hasn’t heard a word of it, instead he watches Merlin tuck and re tuck his scarf, adjusting it around his neck. Eager to hide the scars beneath it. At a word from Gaius he finally stills.
Merlin looks up, first to Arthur and then to his king. Their eyes meet, for a second. His gaze doesn’t linger.
In the silence of the camp, with only the crackling of the fire, Arthur watches Merlin sleep fitfully. His fingers are clenched in the blanket, sweat sticking his hair to his skin, eyes racing beneath the lids. Arthur reaches over to brush the dark hair away.
“We could leave then, you and me. To hell with my father.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. It could be you and me, Merlin, think about it.”
“It can never be us. It’s not your destiny.”
“To hell with destiny! She doesn’t get a say. This is between you and me.” Arthur reaches for Merlin, but the warlock draws back.
“No-one escapes destiny.” Merlin’s eyes flash with pain and his voice becomes so suddenly soft. “I know that too well.” he whispers.
Sunset sits on the horizon, stubbornly grey. Darker clouds roll in. The air is heavy and cold. Merlin wonders if it’s going to rain. He kisses Arthur’s brow, which has become hot and feverish and sets about making a shelter.
He lights a fire. It’s all he can do.
It doesn’t rain. But the thunder comes close. The wind rattles against the trees and makes a sound like bones in a graveyard jangling. Lightning flashes.
Merlin keeps the fire going. It’s all he can do now.
All he can do.
Dawn comes.. or does it? It doesn’t come for Arthur. Still tucked up against Merlin’s side. They’re by the lake now. It’s gotten colder. The trees are bare. The sky is grey. It rains all day and into the night.
“To hell with destiny.” Says Arthur. He leans and kisses Merlin.
For that one moment, everything is as it should be.
Everything is okay.
But as it turns out, destiny is a petty bitch.
When Merlin wakes he knows Arthur is gone. And he knows grief like he’s never felt.