Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Arthur’s breath was shallow as prickles moved across his gut. He was twisting a stick in his hands, over and over again, when Merlin sat next to him by the fire.

‘What was your mother like?’ He asked softly.

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering. The prickling subsided somewhat.

‘I never knew her.’ He said, keeping his head down and poking the stick at the campfire. ‘She died before I opened my eyes.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Merlin responded gently.

‘Barely know anything about her.’ Arthur continued, still trying to focus on his breathing.

‘Can’t you ask your father?’

Ah Merlin, he was so innocent. Arthur’s last interaction with the King had involved a fair amount of yelling. He wouldn’t listen to a thing Arthur was saying. He just kept speaking over him, repeating himself like he always does. Father didn’t need to listen to him, he needed Arther to shut up for long enough to agree with the same point he’d been repeating. Uther had even confined Arthur to his room, as if he were a child to be dealt with and not his adult heir and the future king. Well, if Uther was intent on treating him like a child then he couldn’t be surprised when Arthur snuck out like a fucking child. Arthur felt himself frowning and took a deep breath again.

‘He refuses to talk of her,’ he began, meeting Merlin’s eyes. He remembered trying to ask about her when he was small. He’d looked up at Uther’s face, powerful and warm as the sun, not because he was King, but because he was Father. ‘Arthur, I beg of you,’ he’d said, shaking his head, ‘do not ask of her again.’

But Arthur had. Many times. The response had varied over the years. Sometimes sad, sometimes angry, always short, never enlightening.

‘Must be too painful for him.’ Arthur said. ‘Sometimes it’s as if she never even existed.’

Arthur didn’t know he felt that way until he’d said it, but it rang true. A childhood full of big halls, surrounded by nobles and his Father. Many, many powerful men and very few women that weren’t servants or Morgana. Even before he could name it, he knew something was missing.

There was a moment of quiet, with only the crackle of the fire and the familiar sounds of the wind and forest as Arthur and Merlin sat together in silence.

‘But I still have a sense of her,' Arthur said, 'almost as though she’s part of me.’

It felt good to talk about this stuff. Arthur hardly ever did. He’d only ever really spoken like this with Morgana before, and she generally pushed him to do it. Women are the ones who can understand feelings, who can sort them out and order them. It would be nonsense, dangerous even, to try and talk like this with Father, or with many of the knights. His Father needed his Prince and heir to be a strong, future King Camelot could depend on. The knights also were supposed to trust his strength when he commanded them. He couldn’t show them weakness like this.

But Merlin was his manservant.

‘It’s the same with my father.’ Merlin began, looking into Arthur’s face with recognition in his eyes. ‘I never knew him, and my mother’s barely spoken of him.’ The words tumbled out of him as he picked at the ground.

Arthur was struck with the familiarity, with the resonance of Merlin’s words. To think they could come from such different places and yet share this.

‘I’ve got this vague memory, Merlin continued, his voice developing an edge, ‘it’s probably just my imagination.’

Merlin pegged what he was fiddling with into the fire.

‘I’d do anything for even the vaguest memory.’ Arthur said after a pause.

Merlin’s face softened. ‘Is that why you’re so determined to find Morgause? See what she knows about your mother?’

‘Is that so wrong?’ Arthur asked.

‘No.’ Merlin replied. He shifted closer to Arthur. The two sat and watched the fire. Arthur moved closer to Merlin too. He felt relieved. He hadn’t realised how tense he’d been. It was nice to feel like someone else understood. To be seen.

‘We’ll need to be careful though,’ said Merlin, ‘she could be a sorcerer.’

Arthur felt a dam of frustration burst inside him, and the words came out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

‘And what if she is?’ Replied Arthur. ‘We’re in Odin’s lands.’

Merlin looked at Arthur, mouth agape.

‘She-she could be dangerous, we don’t know what she wants with you or-or why she’s done what she’s done-’

‘Merlin-’

‘Which so far includes challenging you to a fight to the death-’

‘-she didn’t kill me-’

‘-asking you to meet her in a mystery location-’

‘-she said I’d know the way when I needed to-’

‘-we don’t know what she’ll ask of you-’

‘-I gave her my word.’

‘Oh go ahead and get murdered then dollop-head.’ Merlin retorted.

‘Has any point you’ve raised so far been solely due to sorcery?’

Merlin looked up at Arthur, his expression hard to read. It looked like confusion mixed with… something? Hope? That wouldn’t make sense.

‘Look, I’m not saying we shouldn’t be careful, but what if my father’s attitude to magic is wrong?’ Arthur frowned, remembering how vehemently his father was against him learning anything about his mother.

‘You really think that?’ Merlin asked quietly.

‘Perhaps it’s not as simple as he would have us believe. Surely not everyone who practices magic can be evil.’

‘Maybe.’ Merlin conceded. He hugged his knees into his chest and continued staring forward at the fire.

Arthur moved closer still and gave Merlin’s shoulder a squeeze that he hoped was comforting. Poor sod must be worried about him.

Merlin turned to look at him. They were very close now, the sides of their bodies almost touching. Arthur always noticed things like that. He noticed any time anyone did or almost touched him. He knew that a part of him yearned for it.

‘I promise, I’ll be careful.’ Arthur tried to assure Merlin.

It was easier to notice how beautiful Merlin was, for a man, up close like this. His blue eyes set with an intensity against his pale features, contrasting with his dark hair. Arthur wanted to reach up and touch him so, so much. To hold his face, to run his hand through that hair. But he kept his arm at his side.

‘I know,’ Merlin said, ‘but you’ll also have me to protect you.’

He often insisted on that point, despite not being able to swing a sword to save his life, (or apparently Arthur’s).

‘Oh, sure you will,’ Arthur smiled and gave Merlin a noogie.

‘Hey, stop it!’

Arthur ended up getting to touch Merlin’s hair after all.