Work Text:
Merlin needed this – the time alone. Time away from Camelot and the people who reside within its walls. Now don’t misunderstand – Merlin loves the kingdom and its people, but being servant to its future ruler and by extension its people was beginning to feel like a weight being stacked on the young sorcerer’s shoulders. His destiny, Camelot, Arthur – all of it becoming a constant thought, buzzing at the back of his skull.
Stepping over a broken log, Merlin switches the basket from his right hand to his left then bends to pick some of the herbs on Gaius’ list. Gaius had probably seen how distracted Merlin had been and decided to give him some time to himself, that or he was just too lazy to venture through the woods himself. Either way, Merlin was grateful. A reprieve from Arthur’s chores is most welcome right now, the sorcerer thinks as he deposits the herbs and scans the list for the next item.
White snakeroot... Merlin has no idea where to even begin looking for that one, so next. Foxglove. That Merlin can do he thinks as he sets off further into the woods, in the direction of the creek. Arthur most likely wouldn’t even miss his presence right now, the warlock thinks almost bitterly. No matter how hard he tries, his thoughts always circle back to Arthur. He should be happy for them, Gwen and Arthur, that is. But it’s difficult. Arthur’s a first rate dollophead, but he has a heart of gold. No wonder everyone loves him. No wonder Gwen loves him.
Merlin doesn’t even bother adding his name to the list. His feelings go without saying.
At the Castle of Ancient Kings, Lancelot had told Merlin he was the bravest of them all, if that were true, Merlin would have already told Arthur just how he felt – or about his magic, funny that someone who would be embarking on a suicide mission the next day was scared of a little heart-to-heart. Surely, what’s facing certain death compared to confessing your feelings to your low key-friend/high-key prince? Merlin shakes his head. No, Lancelot is the brave one. The sorcerer remembers the knight’s face after Arthur had kissed Gwen upon her return to Camelot, devastation. Merlin’s countenance would have been identical had he not mastered hiding his emotions among other things. The difference between Merlin and Lancelot was that the knight had actually made his feelings somewhat known to the maiden, and Merlin suspects that they may have been reciprocated, at least that’s how it looked when they rescued them from Hengist. To have that swept away, well the warlock can understand only to a small degree.
After a short walk, the mage arrives at the spot and scans the area until he spots what he was looking for, dropping the basket. He walks over and picks the foxglove before retrieving the basket and dropping the foxglove in with the rest of his loot. He crosses the creek, heading toward the clearing in the hope of finding some Marigold, the last item on the list.
Who’s he kidding? This errand for Gaius hasn’t helped him clear his head at all. If anything. It’s given him more time to the think about those two.
Arthur who’s selfless, brave and also a prat. And Lancelot. Sweet, gentle Lancelot who put others’ happiness before his own.
Merlin exited the forest, stepping into the gentle breeze caressing the grass and leaves. He finds a spot near a rock and sits, facing the direction of the sun sinking beneath the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful shades of gold, lilac and crimson. He set the basket down next to him and brings his arms to rest on his knees, enjoying his surroundings.
The wind on his face feels like the prince’s words on his skin while cramped in tiny spaces as they planned daring rescues. No, it feels more like the knight’s fingers dancing over his cheek before leaning in and kissing the younger after walking him home.
Even while knowing all Merlin’s secret, he still pulled him closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly.
It ignited a spark that felt like... well, it felt like magic.
The sound of footsteps has the mage looking in the direction of the forest. A figure emerges – he looks absolutely beautiful and Merlin’s torn. He loves him and he loves another.
The other male stops about a pace from Merlin and bends. “Gaius said I’d find you out here.”
Merlin nods while playing with a blade of grass, spinning it between his fingers. “I came out here to think.”
They lock eyes. “And what were you thinking about, Merlin?”
Merlin doesn’t hesitate when he answers. “You.”