Merthur

-Sorry that I had to go-

Merlin returned to Camelot only once, filled with bitter resentment and hurt everytime he thought of doing so. He wasn't expected back either, Gwen had made her peace with Merlin's magic long ago and in no way expected that he would return to a place filled with such hurt. She knew how he felt after all.

He could possibly get away with disguising himself if he'd wanted but anyway he wouldnt be able to fight the urge to see Gaius, the Knights, to act as if Arthur was waiting just behind the door. It was a situation filled with impossibility, a situation that called for one answer. If he was to go, he would go as Arthur's Merlin and as no one else, as the Merlin who had no other role in life but to love, care for and serve. As soon as he knew he had to return one last time, he left and headed straight for Arthur's room. He intended just to get some things to remind him to hold on to him. He had always been good at sneaking around the castle, this time was no different.

The whole place stunk of mourning and death, every echo that had once seemed friendly felt like a whispering spirit teasing him for their very presence. The door to Arthur's room was no different in all, the marks and dents from fights and horseplay still covering it. He traced his fingers over them lightly, feeling the energy seaping through them. How strange, he thought, that even though the world had ended, time and matter payed no heed. It was with a shaking hand that he dared to push it slightly, expecting a lock to have to enchant his way past but it seemed Gwen had the same ideas as him about returning.

He didn't know what he had expected, a room converted in sheets and empty of character would somehow be better than what he was faced with: a room frozen in time. The bed was the same as it had been freshly made by himself four nights ago, clearly Gwen had wanted to preserve that if Arthur were not to return; or she couldn't bear sleeping alone. Clothes were splayed out in a rush of preparing for battle, a book lay open with a bookmark placed in its folds. What a cruel irony to mark a book he would never be able to return to, maybe he would read it to the air by Avalon, finish it for him just incase.

His own calmness shocked him, but as he tried to feel deeper he realised the true extent of what he felt, what he felt was not calm or resolve but simply nothing. As though so much had stung that he found no more use in feeling the pain. Such a cruel world.

Merlin smiled a soulful smile as he smelt Arthur's musky scent over the room. Making his way slowly towards the table as memories of laughs past haunted his eyes. His mind so focused on his life with Arthur that his hands did the work for him, conjuring up sparks into images of Arthur's face. Laughing, outraged, a layer of cheek and a smirk directed to a Merlin who knew happier times. As much as he wished he could ignore it, he so wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him, nestle his face into his skin and tell him everything would be okay. His free hand was fooled by this paupers image of Arthur and drifted as though trying to caress a face he would never see again, causing the sparks to disappear into lonesome bugs floating away. Almost as though the last ghost of Arthur was leaving the space forever. He felt a twinge of pain deep inside and clenched his fist to crush it.

The book wasnt what Merlin expected, there were no military tactics within its pages, but beautifully decorated pages of poetry; forming world's on paper. It was so like Arthur to secretly enjoy poetry, if he had more time then maybe he could actually have helped him. The page it was open to held a surprisingly fitting poem: 'this is not goodbye'. How unsurprisingly poetic. The words seemed to flow out of his mother as he spoke them, as though Arthur had chosen this poem for this moment. "And never lay to rest..." He finished, staring down at the final line with such distain, how dare it force such a feeling upon him, make such a thing of pain appear beautiful.
As he went to discard it and find other things to take his leave, a fresh sheet of parchment floated to the floor from the pressed pages. As a man of curious nature, Merlin picked it up gently from the floorboards and looked it over, not poetry?

Dear Merlin,

I wish that this will find its way to you after I am gone.
I know that this is to be my last fight, of course I hope I am wrong and this will never be read but I know this cannot be true. I hope this will find its way to you, wherever you are.

When facing certain death, you truly think about those things that are important to you, I did not lie when I said you were the bravest man I have ever met. I am truly sorry that I never told you enough, that I was not good e-

Merlin turned the paper away with a whimper, wiping a tear from his eye and scrunching his hand together to gain strength. All those times Arthur had poked fun and fought and joked with him, they had been the only confirmation Merlin had ever needed of Arthur's care for him.

good enough. I trust you will keep this to yourself as I have realised a few things in this moment that make me feel less sadness at death yet also make me spread a foolish and weak king. I know that I treat the people I care for as disposable, especially you and Gwen. The people I care for most.

You will never understand what I have to say and I know that, but as your king, your master and your friend, I have a duty of a truthful last testament. Merlin, wherever you are, I love you more deeply than I can express.

Gwen of course is my wife and is loved so deeply and cared for as much as I thought was possible. I care for you in a way I cannot explain, I do not want your body unless it brings you joy, I do not want your devotion less it takes away the friendship we have created. As I am to die I can do so knowing that I will die with the two people I love most being in full knowledge of that truth. You have such an exquisite beauty to you that you have failed to notice over the years and I know that one day someone else will love you so deeply. So, as my decided last words to the man I could never have, I simply say: 'thank you'.

You are my home, and I could never have wished for more.

Your devoted king,
Arthur

His swooping signature signed at the base, leaving Merlin scratching his mind for more. This had to be some trick, some cruel trick of magic. Maybe just a trick of fate. Merlin let his whimpers flow free, king Arthur, his unknown lover.

How could he ever think he could not have Merlin, if he could not be with him it didn't matter, he had him in every way possible. His doting stares, his careful touches as though Arthur would break, his life layed on the line time again, had it all been missed by Arthur's worries? How could he be so stupid as to never say! Merlin chuckled on remembering every instance of insult to Arthur, of course meant only in jest but in his mind, confirming of the unspoken love they had shared. It was almost as though he could feel Arthur's touch on him as he welcomed wave after wave of emotion. A strong and comforting hold, a passionate and loving touch. He needed no more.

He knew that now he could not stay in a castle with a friend who had been overtaken by himself. He grabbed the book, the paper and a loose shirt to comfort him when nights got cold. He would lie at Arthur's side in his dreams, he would be strong. The wrinkled piece of paper was clutched to his breast, no betrayal, no acceptance of his magic could ever eclipse what Arthur had said, nothing meant more to Merlin. A third tear seaped down his cheek, it was one of sorrow, one of joy and one of comfort to his king, his once and future king.

Long live the king.