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“You’re wrong.” His hand hovering over the handle, his chiselled features set in resolute stone but in his eyes a different story.
“Then explain it to me again, use words a child might understand and then maybe, just maybe I might.”
“You are wrong Emrys.” The sigh from across the room alerted Arthur to the preeminent interruption so he raced on, “When you say it doesn’t matter, you are so very wrong.”
Merlin slumped in to the chair beneath him the hardness jolting through his body but he didn’t care, physical pain felt like a relief after hours going round and round in circles with Arthur. “Don’t call me Emrys.” It came out more of a hiss than the plea he had intended.
“It is your name, Emrys the greatest warlock that has ever lived, the last of the Dragon Lords, a magical being so powerful he can bend time and nature to his will. Care me to go on?”
Merlin let his head fall to the table with a thud, “Not really.”
Still facing the door Arthur let out a forced laugh, “Emrys Camelot’s Court Sorcerer.”
“Stop it!”
The anguish in his voice caused Arthur to turn round, he wanted to go to him, he really did but what would that achieve? They would be back where they started and some how they had to move forward. Eventually he chose to slide down the door, back pressed firm against the solid oak and he couldn’t decide if he was keeping them both in or locking the world out.
“You are my right hand man now; together we will make this Kingdom great.” The blonde haired mans smile weak.
“Precisely.” Merlin lifted his head, turning it to one side before resting it back on his folded arms. “That is what I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense Arthur, not that you often do.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t hey me. Tell me. Because I understand that you being King comes with all this responsibility and duty, I even understand if you can’t keep taking me to your bed.” The low sigh he emitted breathed round the room, aching as it moved towards his lover, “I wouldn’t like it but I’d tolerate it for you and that’s what I’ve been trying to say, I’ve seen the future and the legends tell of you and me working together, building a reign of epic proportions that no other monarch will even come close to. Whether we are lovers or not it will make no difference.”
If he had not known the King so well Merlin would have sworn the sound that escaped him was a choked sob.
By the door Arthur clasped his head in his hands, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair, much the same as Merlin had done only hours ago.
“And that is where you are wrong Emrys.”
Throwing his chair back the sorcerer leapt to his feet, “How many times, I. Am. Not. Emrys. Please not here.”
In four strides he was next to Arthur, kneeling in, desperate to see into those beautiful eyes, hoping to finally grasp what was going on in the clotpoles mind.
“Alright.” Finally he surrendered his gaze, “You are still wrong.”
The green eyes staring back studied him intently, yet for once Merlin remained silent and the stillness was suffocating so Arthur continued,
“Because it does matter, if you are in my bed or not, it will matter to my subjects and my court, well, it will definitely matter to them! But they don’t count.” Reaching up he cupped Merlin’s face in his two hands, all angled and awkward and yet breath taking, “Mainly you are wrong because it matters to me. The though of you not being here when I wake; or you unable to put your hand in mine when it is all going to hell; or you standing next to me on the battlefield whilst I pretend that you are not my everything, it cuts me in two.”
Against his mouth Arthur felt the breathy, “Oh!”
“So don’t tell me it is not important if we can’t be together, don’t act like we could go back to how it used to be because I can’t Merlin.” He gave up. He could deny it all he wanted and keep it entirely professional, everyday, for the rest of their lives together but somehow that felt like a compromise he wasn’t willing to make now. Finally he’d given him self completely all he could hope was that the delightful creature opposite felt the same.
Leaning in Merlin whispered, “Me neither,” before his lips found themselves soft against Arthurs.