The King and His Sorcerer

Part XII: Death

Nothing particularly changed after Arthur’s admission. Merlin's attitude returned to normal; well, as normal as it could be around Arthur, and it was as if nothing had ever transpired between them. Merlin’s heart still twisted in his chest whenever Arthur and he had a moment. But Arthur still refused to admit that they were anything more than friends. And on his bad days, he refused to admit even that.

Nothing changed until the day Uther died. Even though Uther had never been a particularly kind father or king, Arthur had still loved him as much any son. Merlin knew he would be devastated; knew that he wanted to be there for him in a way that the prince, now king, would never allow.

So instead, Merlin waited. While Arthur payed his respects in the mausoleum, Merlin waited outside of the doors. He spent one day and one night there, simply waiting for Arthur to emerge. It did not matter that Arthur was not privy to his presence. Merlin wanted to be there, just in case.

Gwen brought food and water to him, but Merlin refused both, just as Arthur was.

When the heavy doors finally parted, and a dishevelled Arthur emerged from the depths of the cold room, Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. He’s okay.

Arthur startled when he saw Merlin on the stone floor. “Have you been there this whole time?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Merlin nodded. Arthur opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead just thrust his hand out to Merlin. Merlin took it, and Arthur pulled him up from his place on the floor.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “But I am starving. Bring me food to my chambers immediately.”

Merlin smiled slightly. At least Arthur was still there under the layers of grief.

When Merlin finally walked into Arthur’s chambers, arms filled with comforting food, Arthur was face down on his bed, sleeping. Sighing, Merlin placed the food on the dining table anyway, grabbing a chicken wing and biting into it.

“That’s mine.”

Merlin jumped. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was trying to. But sleep just won’t come to me tonight.”

Merlin nodded, getting ready to leave.

“Can you stay?” Arthur asked him.

Merlin turned, taking him in. He couldn’t remember a time when Arthur had looked so vulnerable.

“Of course. Of course, my king.”

Arthur’s eyes filled with tears at the title before he closed them again. Merlin settled into a chair, pulling a rug around his shoulders. He would stay as long as Arthur wanted him to. He had nowhere else he’d rather be.