#BBC's Merlin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raviolifabbrioli · 2 years

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Sleep Well, My Love

Someone was in Arthur’s room.

He wasn’t sure what originally woke him, but he was awake now, and there was no mistaking the sound of footsteps slowly making their way to where he was lying in his bed. Arthur listened intently to try and gauge how far away this person was. Their footsteps sounded heavy and slow, but the sound against the stone sounded less like shoes and more like skin. Arthur knew because sometimes when he couldn’t sleep he’d pace barefoot at the edge of his bed, trying to clear his head.

Things have been a mess since his father died, Arthur sometimes drifting off into a daydream during the day, having to be brought back by Merlin. His manservant seemed more attentive to his mood lately, like he knew Arthur was suddenly carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, not making any jokes since the funeral. It wasn’t like Arthur was in the mood for jokes anyway, but it was odd having Merlin be so serious. The boy never smiled anymore.

The footsteps sounded closer now, the person was definitely barefoot. Arthur wondered briefly if this was some kind of pathetic assassination attempt and considered calling for the guards, but decided he’d deal with his battles himself, just as he had been trained. He wasn’t sure if this person was looking directly at him or checking around, so instead of trying to be sneaking and possibly failing, not that he’d ever been good at sneaking, Arthur shot up from under the covers and reached for his sword hanging by his bed, unsheathing it in one swift motion. He spun on his mattress, bringing his sword down in one clean motion only to be met with a familiar face.

Merlin.

His face was slack and expressionless, nothing like what he looked like when Arthur was waving his sword in his face. This alone is what made Arthur stop. The quick realisation that it was his friend at the end of his very sharp weapon.

Merlin had stopped walking, now standing at the edge of Arthur’s bed, and made no move to continue on. Arthur lowered his sword slowly, still confused.

“Merlin?” Arthur spoke softly, his voice sounding oddly strange to his ears. “What’s wrong?”

Merlin showed no sign of hearing him. Arthur sheathed his sword and clambered around his covers to stand next to Merlin. He leaned close to look at his manservant, noticing how pale his skin truly is, and how unmarred it is. It was almost beautiful, like a girl’s. “Merlin?” Arthur called softly again. Maybe in the past he would have shouted, but he was just tired now. He reached out and touched Merlin softly on the shoulder, shaking him gently.

Merlin snorted like you did when you breathe in too suddenly, and his head straightened out, eyes seeming to focus. A wave of emotions rolled across his face, finally ending in confusion. He looked around, taking in Arthur’s room, before finally turning to look at Arthur himself.

“I suppose now would be a good time to tell you that I happen to sleepwalk,” Merlin mumbled out, looking extremely embarrassed. Arthur scoffed.

“Yes, Merlin. Now would be a good time to tell me that, considering I almost cleaved you in half with my sword,” honestly, Arthur should have expected this. If anyone under his command was weird enough to walk in their sleep, it would be Merlin. “Go back to bed, we have a busy day tomorrow.” And with that, Merlin trudged silently from Arthur’s room, not complaining about how cold the stone was under his bare feet.

Arthur wished he could say that was the one and only time that happened, but unfortunately he seemed to be cursed.

The next time Merlin came strolling into Arthur’s bedchambers he was still awake, burning a candle low and reviewing maps and treaties. He took one look at Merlin and shouted at him, stressed and tired beyond control, startling his manservant so badly he fell over, seeming more shocked that he was on the floor than in Arthur’s chambers. Arthur growled lowly at him to get out, and Merlin did so, scuttling quietly away, ears red with embarrassment.

The third time it happened, Arthur was still asleep. Merlin made it all the way across his room and into his bed, settling under his covers before he woke. Arthur only woke because of the sudden warmth of another person so close to him. Since his father passed, he’d taken to sleeping with his windows open, letting the chill of the air bite at his bare skin. It made him feel something, the only thing he really felt lately. But those few moments before Arthur woke up, when Merlin was laying next to him and slowly warming him up, Arthur felt something stir in his chest. Something warm and familiar, and very very dangerous. He hesitated before kicking Merlin out of his bed, the warmth almost too addicting. Merlin had the decency to apologise that time, seeming shocked that he had made it that far.

Up until that point, the two had avoided discussing Merlin’s late night strolls, but the next morning Arthur strangely had the courage to ask him.

“I usually lock my door, my first night here I ended up down in the kitchens.” Merlin shuddered at the memory, and Arthur decided not to ask. “Some nights I forget to lock it,” he shrugged. Arthur didn’t press it any further.

The fourth night it happened was almost three months later, and startled Arthur so badly he knocked a book off his desk. He had been reviewing the expenses books when Merlin had appeared from behind the curtain that separated Arthurs private quarters from his table he ate at. Merlin had been looking drawn and pale lately, and tonight was no exception. The skin under his eyes was dark and puffy, and his skin seemed more pale than usual. Arthur hadn’t been working him particularly hard lately, but they have had a few nights, and he had noticed that Merlin seemed more troubled than usual. He didn’t walk towards Arthur, like he usually did, instead heading right for Arthur’s bed and climbing in, settling beneath the covers. It was almost cute how he did so.

Arthur just watched him, taking in how peaceful he looked laying there. Arthur had noticed that lately he had a sort of pinched graveness to him, like he was on edge about something bad happening soon. Arthur wanted to ask him about it, but there was never any time for a proper discussion. Arthur would never admit it out loud, but Merlin was the most important person to him, and he hated seeing his best friend so weighed down.

Arthur was shaken from his thoughts by movement. Merlin was turning over and over in his bed, his arms waving around like he was looking for something. Arthur frowned, not sure what was happening. Then Merlin started to mumble in his sleep.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed out, sounding worried. He had that same pinched tone that he used when he was awake, nothing like what he sounded like when he first came to Camelot. “Arthur!” Merlin sounded more urgent now, the worry apparent. He mumbled a few more words, too incoherent for Arthur to understand, before finally he sat up awake. “Arthur?” Definitely awake.

“What do you dream about, when you walk, Merlin?” It had been bothering Arthur for a while now. Why did Merlin come here so often? Was it because it was a part of his regular routine? Or was there another reason? It kept Arthur awake some nights, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking any longer.

Merlin looked at his lap, quiet for so long Arthur thought he would have to repeat his questions.

“I dream about you, sire.” Merlin was still talking to his lap. Arthur blinked. “Well,” Merlin corrected. “I don’t dream, I have nightmares. Nightmares of not being able to find you, or you being in danger. Of you dying.” Merlin looked at him now, and the raw emotion on his face was enough to crumple Arthur’s heart.

“Stay here tonight,” Arthur spoke gently. “And every night you have a nightmare. I don’t mind.”

And thus a new routine was born. Every time Merlin slept walked his way to Arthur’s room Arthur would lift the covers for him and let him slide in to sleep next to him. It still didn’t happen often, but often enough. In the mornings, they carried on as if nothing happened. Slowly Arthur began to notice Merlin gaining some colour back to his skin, the darkness under his eyes fading a little. Merlin seemed more awake during the days, not like he was simply carrying on through them. He seemed to have a bigger appetite, and Arthur could have sworn he almost saw the boy smile at one of Gwaine’s jokes. Arthur felt like he had gotten his best friend back.

Then came the worst night of Merlin’s life.

Arthur had been sitting at his desk like he did most nights, burning a third candle down and reviewing expenses for the coming winter. It had been so quiet in his room that Arthur had almost forgotten that Merlin had come into his room hours earlier. Merlin had cried out so loudly and suddenly that Arthur accidentally kicked one of his table legs and cursed because of the sudden pain. His eyes watered with the dull throb of pain, but he turned his eyes to Merlin and watched him, trying to gauge what kind of night this would be.

Merlin’s face was scrunched up, as if in pain, and one of his hands was hanging limply by his side, while the other was clawed as if he was holding something round. His shirt was starting to stick to his chest, sweat seeping through the cloth, and Arthur watched as a glowing ball of light appeared by his hand, exactly like the one that had guided him towards a certain flower years ago.

It was then that things about Merlin made much more sense to Arthur.

The ball of light hovered by Arthur’s hand for a brief moment before shooting off through the air towards Merlin, landing in the palm of his clawed hand. If Arthur couldn’t see that sign then he was blind. He stood in one smooth moment and hurried across the stone floor to Merlin’s side, noticing that Merlin seemed to be mumbling under his breath. It didn’t sound familiar, so Arthur filed it away for another time. As Arthur approached, the ball of light brightened for a moment, as if to tell Arthur he made the right choice, before winking out, leaving Merlin’s hand empty.

Rather than reassure Merlin, that seemed to make his nightmare worse. He thrashed under the covers, both arms whipping around now, and he started talking louder, definitely not in the common tongue.

Arthur reached out and brushed some hair out of Merlin’s face and he instantly stilled. Arthur moved his hand away, and Merlin whimpered, as if Arthur’s touch was healing and it was suddenly gone. Arthur quickly touched his fingertips to Merlin’s forehead again, watching in fascination as Merlin again instantly stilled.

Arthur could accept that Merlin had magic, could accept that his manservant had nightmares of his king and friend dying, but somehow found it hard to believe that Merlin somehow knew it was Arthur who was nearby. Arthur wanted to test this out more, wanted to prove to himself that Merlin knew it was him there, but couldn’t stand to see Merlin’s face scrunch up in pain again. So he kicked off his boots and pulled off his shirt, clambered quickly over Merlin into his bed, tugging the covers over him. In the short time they weren’t connected, Merlin’s face had contorted into pain again, but he had turned to face Arthur in the bed, curling in on himself.

Arthur hesitated for a few seconds before pulling Merlin towards him, wrapping his friend in his arms. Merlin sighed and relaxed, whispering out a soft “Arthur” before his breathing evened out and he fell into a deep sleep. Arthur found himself pressing a kiss to Merlin’s brow, holding him close in his grasp.

“Sleep now, my love.”

In the morning, Arthur woke before Merlin. He was laying on his back, with Merlin’s head pressed into the space between Arthur’s shoulder and neck, still breathing deeply. Everything about this boy was silent; how he walked, how he breathed, and even how he spoke as of late. Arthur craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Merlin’s face, but was only able to see the corner of his face, noting that Merlin apparently slept with his mouth open. Cute.

Arthur dropped his head back onto his pillow and thought about last night. So Merlin has magic. Arthur had been angry at first, but then he remembered who he and Merlin were, and realised that even if his friend wanted to tell him, he couldn’t have. Arthur could ignore the signs if there was no proof, but with his father’s laws, he would have had no choice but to have Merlin executed.

Now that Arthur was king, things were different. Things could be different. Things would be different. Arthur would make things different.

Moving slowly so as not to wake Merlin, he disentangled himself from his arms and the covers, padding softly over to his desk and wetting his quill, writing definitively on a fresh piece of parchment. He wrote for a long time, sometimes starting over on a clean piece of parchment, needing to get this right the first time. He could wake Merlin and ask his opinion, but this was mostly for him, so he wanted it to be ready by the time he woke up.

Two and a half pieces of parchment and a full inkwell later, Merlin woke. As he did every morning, he yawned and stretched, rising from the bed before putting on his shoes and making Arthur’s bed. He cleaned the floor of Arthur’s boots and shirt, apparently not noticing their position different than usual. He silently went about his morning chores, either not realising or ignoring the fact that Arthur was openly staring at him.

It was only when Merlin approached Arthur at his desk, presumably to clean it, that he noticed. “Sire?” Merlin’s face was a mixture of confusion and wariness, like he was expecting Arthur to be upset with him. “Is there something wrong?” Merlin was testing the waters, trying to guess before Arthur gave him a hint as to what was wrong. Arthur just silently held out the piece of parchment he had finished working on, guarding his expression and watching Merlin’s carefully. His expression grew grave as his eyes darted across the words, realising what he was holding in his hand. He put it back on the table, refusing to look at it. “As I’ve told you before, sire, there can be no place for magic in Camelot.” His voice was stiff, and Arthur wondered if it was because he truly believed that, or because he was afraid of giving himself away.

“I’ll not have laws in my kingdom that would see you dead,” Arthur said coolly, still trying his hardest not to give anything away. He watched as Merlin’s face changed to realisation, a wonderfully wide and open expression, then to something akin to resignation, with a touch of fear. “Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, “Please.”

“I had a nightmare last night,” Merlin spoke suddenly, less of a question and more of a statement. Arthur nodded. Merlin cursed and stepped backwards, leaning heavily on the nearest bed post. He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, making Arthur wince. “I only ever used it for you,” Merlin began, his eyes wide and pleading. Arthur stood and walked over to him, tugging his hand away from his head and holding it tightly.

“Stop, Merlin,” Arthur was still speaking quietly, hoping his tone would at least get through, if not his words. Merlin stilled then, looking somewhere on Arthur’s face, but not his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so opposed to being free, but I will not stand for it anymore. I will not have you risking your life to protect mine.” Arthur had a lot of time to think before Merlin awoke. There had always been things that didn’t add up about his manservant, and now they did. It also started to make sense as to why Merlin insisted on accompanying him everywhere, and somehow managed to come away unscathed. Merlin had always been protecting him, and risking his own life at the same time.

“Arthur,” Merlin was beginning to panic, he realised. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand!” Arthur exploded, stepping back from Merlin and raking his own hands through his hair now. “Since you’ve arrived in Camelot you’ve been protecting me, all while I’ve called you names and thought you were useless. I can understand you not wanting me to know, but it’s too late now, and you’re too important to me for these laws to continue.”

Merlin blinked, seeming to understand something then. “You want to change these laws, because of me?” Arthur nodded. “Arthur there are so many things and people out there who would see you dead, most of them using magic, and you would still legalise it because you don’t want to lose me?” Arthur nodded again. “You clotpole,” Merlin murmured. It sounded less like an insult this time and more like a term of endearment. Arthur stepped closer again and took Merlin’s hands.

“I don’t understand magic, and I might never, but I trust you, and I know you. It doesn’t matter who wants me dead, you’ve done a good job this far of keeping me alive.” Arthur smiled crookedly, trying to draw a smile from Merlin. “Think of how much easier it’ll be to protect me when you don’t have to hide a part of yourself from me.” Merlin was still stone faced, looking down and chewing on his lip. Arthur brought a hand up and with one finger tilted Merlin’s face up to look him in the eye. “Merlin,” Arthur breathed. “This is going to happen, with or without your help. Although, we both know it’ll go better if you are a part of it.” Merlin did smile then, and Arthur finally felt relief.

“There are things I can’t tell you, things you won’t understand, and there are things you need to know right now.” Merlin began. There was pain in his face, and Arthur knew what he was going to say.

“I know, my love,” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hands. “I know you did what you could to save him. There are things even magic can’t change.” Merlin was still filled with pain, with guilt, but he looked lighter now that he wasn’t carrying such a heavy load alone. He had Arthur now, and always would.

After that day, Merlin used his magic publicly, protecting Arthur from those who would see him dead. The new laws Arthur set in place saw magic return to Camelot slowly, and watched carefully by the Knights of the Round Table. With time, the people of Camelot came to trust their new king. There were still those who sought to destroy the last of the Pendragons, and with it the reign of terror Uther had brought about, but they were no match for Merlin.

Except, Morgana. Even though she had technically gotten what she wanted, hatred and rage still boiled raw under her skin, and she still swore to destroy her half brother and take the throne for herself. She made many attempts from far away to kill Arthur, but nothing that ever came close, thanks to Merlin. It wasn’t until a year after magic had returned to Camelot that Arthur rode out with an army to meet Morgana and hers. While Merlin was distracted with the dragon, Morgana managed to land a fatal blow on Arthur, before being struck down herself by Leon.

Merlin felt sick. His heart felt like it was trying to claw his way up his throat as he called for Kilgharrah. Leaving the other knights to deal with the aftermath of the battle, Merlin pulled Arthur onto the old dragon’s back and commanded him to take them to Lake Avalon. He held on to Arthur tightly, never wanting to let him go. When they arrived, Kilgharrah watched on with mild interest, waiting to see what Merlin would do. He dragged Arthur towards the lake, cursing himself for being too slow, being distracted, being too weak.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered. “Merlin, please.” Merlin collapsed with Arthur in his arms, unable to force his legs to carry them any farther. He started to wiggle across the grass, but stilled as soon as he felt Arthur’s hand weakly against his arm. His face felt cold and wet, but he dared not let go of Arthur to wipe away the tears.

“Just,” Arthur breathed in shakily. “Just hold me.” Merlin bit back a sob, and leaned down to press a kiss to his king’s brow.

“Sleep now, my love,” Merlin whispered.

He stayed like that, holding Arthur until long after he passed, crying for his friend, crying for his king, crying for his heart.

#merlin #arthur #bbc merlin #merthur #they're in love and i'll die on this hill #i die on too many hills lol #bbc's merlin #magic #angst #fluff #sleepwalking #fic #fanfic #this is on ao3 too #canon compliant #sorta but not really #ending is the same but the in between i had fun with #enjoy

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