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Silence cut the air like a scream, their angry, defensive and pained words having long since run out minutes, maybe hours, ago. Neither man could be sure, but now the fire burned low in the grate and full night had settled over Camelot.
Arthur’s blond head lay against his forearms as he sat, knees propped up, back pressed firmly to the door.
Merlin took up a similar position over by the prince’s bed.
Finally a sound drifted to Merlin's ears, barely a sound, the shadow of a whisper- “Why?”
Merlin’s head rose, his arms tightening around his bent knees. “Because you kill sorcerers. You believe we’re all evil,” his own voice only just audible. His eyes closed and his voice trailed off even further as he spoke, “You kill magic.”
“I am not my father,” sadness and pain marred his words.
Merlin cocked his head to the side, “No, you’re not,” he said in near normal, slightly scandalized tones- how could Arthur even think he thought of him that way. “Why do you think I told you?” his voice once again trailing off becoming weaker the more he spoke.
Arthur’s voice held an edge of pleading as he asked, “I don’t know, Merlin, why?” Why had he told him- that’s what he’d wanted to know from the beginning- why? “Why did you tell me?” he heard himself repeat the words in his head so soft he wasn’t even sure Merlin could hear.
He looked up and hesitantly sidled towards the prince. “Because I trust you.” It was the simplest thing to say and it was the truth; Merlin trusted Arthur with his life and that included his secret.
Arthur’s sapphire eyes peered out at Merlin, trying to read the man and his words. He took a heavy laden breath, “Come here,” his voice a hushed whisper and anything but a command, “please,” he added softly.
Merlin studied Arthur for a few moments before slowly shuffling over until he was within arm’s reach of the blond.
They sat there, toe to toe, but not quite touching as they sized each other up; this wasn’t a new concept, on more than one occasion each of them had cause to reevaluate the other and their relationship, yet this time it meant so very much more. Two sets of brilliant blue eyes bore into each other seeking for something, finding each other open and exposed their raw emotions no longer hidden by bolstering and fear. The silence hung in the air, but it was different now, a soft hum wrapping snuggly around the wordless conversation they seemed to be having encouraging it, protecting it.
Eventually it dawns on them, the angry words shot back and forth were nothing more than a veil for the fear of loss they both felt.
Merlin’s eyes widen when he realizes, and he sucks in a breath, at the same time something changes, softens in Arthur’s sea blue eyes and he holds his arm out waiting, hoping Merlin will understand.
He does. He’s still afraid, afraid Arthur will change his mind and hate him for what he is and he’ll lose what friendship he had with the him, but Arthur’s arm doesn’t move, and he slowly scoots around until he’s resting with Arthur’s arm draped around him.
Arthur squeezes Merlin to him, and as the sorcerer, his sorcerer, curls into him, Arthur nuzzles his raven hair. His thoughts turning to what he was so afraid of, it wasn’t the magic that he could handle, but his father that was another matter. The thought of his father finding out, of what would happen, caused a vice to grip like iron around his lungs making his breath hard to come by and impossible to catch. He buried his face in Merlin’s mop of hair, pulling him closer still, relaxing slightly when he felt Merlin’s arms wrap around him. With every rise and fall of Merlin’s chest the iron vice around Arthur’s loosens until it’s just them, unspoken promises and fears exchanged and allayed. When it’s only them, Arthur pulls away enough to lift Merlin’s chin, their lips a hair’s breath apart as he whispers, “Nothing will ever happen to you.”
He feels the quiet, “I know,” ghost over his lips as he swallows Merlin’s words in a kiss.