((It’s so sweet of you all to run such a lovely blog! Thank you for all your hard work. You all make me smile, so I thought I’d write something. This is based on a couple of the drawings on here. c: ))
Quivering fingertips clung onto the cloth as a faraway Merlin polished Arthur’s sword. He hadn’t really been able to take anything in all day; he had dreamt of Arthur, the memory of the previous day lingering in his subconscious, and even now he couldn’t quite banish him from his mind.
The recollection of winding his arms around Arthur and holding him tightly was almost tangible; he could remember how strong Arthur felt in his embrace even when silent tears treacherously escaped his eyes.
He desperately wished he could make him feel better, even make him act like a prat. That was better than such a desolate, lonely Arthur. But magic couldn’t resurrect the deceased without consequences, painful ones, and magic couldn’t bring a smile to Arthur’s face when he was mourning. Merlin couldn’t stop Arthur from grieving and he wasn’t sure how; he’d never really stopped pining for his lost friends. Even during happier times, surrounded by laughter and chatter in the hall, sometimes he could only wish for Will’s presence.
The bittersweet sting of memories distracted him from the sharp pain in his hand, and he let out a yelp when it finally set in. The cloth fell and he gripped his arm, grimacing at the sight of fresh blood sliding down his skin like the tears on Arthur’s face yesterday.
“Merlin!” he heard Arthur call sharply, but he was focused more upon suppressing the pain in his arm. Bloody hell, he knows the spell for healing something like this, but his frantic mind can’t find the words when Arthur’s voice keeps calling his name. And then Arthur’s beside him, scowling at Merlin’s arm and mumbling under his breath before sending him a small smirk. “You’re useless on times,” he said. He sounded irritated, and perhaps it wasn’t directed at Merlin, but he still felt incredulous and tired and angry at the careless remark.
“I’m not useless,” he snapped, wanting to tell the self-centred assbutt how often he saved his life and how often his own was put in jeopardy for it. But he couldn’t spill a confession like that, not now, not when Arthur’s so morose and Merlin has to protect him.
Arthur paused after tearing off a shred from his tunic, and then met Merlin’s eyes, seeming to soften slightly. “As a servant, you are,” he insisted, before tying the wound with his cloth, roughly before he caught Merlin’s wince, and then muttering a derogatory slur comparing Merlin to a girl, before looking at his hands. “As a friend, you… Well, you’re not useless at that.”
And for the first time in days, they both smiled.
Thank you so much for this! Publishing so everyone can see. ♥
