The Measure of a Good Man
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Summary
Arthur could never remember the exact moment he fell in love with Merlin. Maybe because he always has been. Or maybe it was such a gradual fall, he didn’t even notice until he’d hit the bottom.
And here he is, Crown Prince of Camelot, pining after his own manservant like a blubbering fool.
The truth is Arthur had been up for half an hour. But he knows by now, if he waits long enough, Merlin will start tugging on his arm, dragging him out of the bed.
It’s stupid. It’s a stupid thing to want. It’s a stupid thing to look forward to each morning. A small, nimble hand around his wrist, pulling him into the cold of the day, and usually, onto the floor.
But Arthur doesn’t get the privilege of touch very often. That’s what it is, isn’t it? A privilege?
Series
- Part 1 of The Measure of a Good Man
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From the time that Merlin wakes, he can feel his magic. It hums under his skin, like a snake slithering over his bones. It follows him, as it always does. As it has his whole life. He used to find it a comfort. A blanket of magic, protecting him from the coldness of everything else.
These days, though…Merlin almost prefers to be in Arthur’s company, rather than those who know the truth, because he can still pretend. Although Arthur has always been too forgiving. His jabs and insults have always been in tease. Sometimes Merlin needs to be reminded. Needs to be reprimanded.
Would Arthur forgive him so easily for his complaining and tardiness and mistakes if he knew the truth? Merlin doubts it.
Merlin can’t even look at himself in the mirror the same way he used to. He’s not the excited boy he had once been, that first day in Camelot.
Series
- Part 2 of The Measure of a Good Man