FIC: Perhaps, maybe
Jul. 19th, 2017 11:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fifty_fiftyTitle: Perhaps, maybe.
Pairing(s): Background Arthur Pendragon/Gwen (Merlin)
Character(s): Merlin with mentions of Arthur Pendragon, Gwen and Mordred.
Word Count: 906
Rating: Gen
Summary: Sometimes Merlin wondered what he was still doing in Camelot.
Notes: Here, have some angst! Written for Prompt #271 on Camelot Drabble. On AO3 here.
Merlin sometimes wondered what he was still doing in Camelot.
Arthur was king, he was happily married to Gwen. He was just and deserving of his subjects. Fair and kind where he could be, yet firm and determined to do the best for his people.
He spent more time in council meetings and with his knights than ever before and with Gwen attending to him in the morning and evenings, Merlin barely spent any time at all with Arthur that wasn’t shared with someone else.
He supposed that was a bit selfish of him to want Arthur to himself. Arthur certainly didn’t seem to mind the change. But then again, he had people vying for his attention left, right and centre. So maybe it suited him that Merlin wasn’t yet another person clamouring for attention and perhaps it shouldn’t matter so much to Merlin either.
He was, of course, used to Arthur’s comments and jibes about him and his appearance, that hadn’t changed. But before now they’d had an element of fondness to them. Of late, he seemed to get the brunt of Arthur’s temper when he was angered and his comments were sharp and had an element of callousness to them. Before now, even through the insults, he’d felt that Arthur might eventually respect him. But now he knew there was no respect there. Merlin was just the idiot who was convenient to have around; who knew how Arthur liked things done. Merlin just longed for Arthur to respect him. Even a little.
He wondered if it might just be better to leave. Surely he was no longer needed here. Morgana hadn’t been seen in over a year. If she were alive wouldn’t she have made her move by now? Plus, Arthur was even more set against magic than he’d ever been before. He was past the point where Merlin could sway his mind. To the contrary, all he’d done was strengthen Arthur’s resolve against magic and the guilt from that was eating him up from the inside.
Maybe Killgharrah was wrong. He wasn’t Emrys and Arthur wasn’t the Once and Future King, they didn’t have this big destiny together. Perhaps the dragon and the Druids were so keen to see magic restored to Camelot that they were reading into things that just weren’t there. Because Merlin certainly didn’t feel that they had a destiny anymore.
There were very, very occasional moments where Arthur still spoke to him as he used to and Merlin drank it up like a field of crops in a drought, even though afterwards he felt rather pathetic to be so easily pleased by the small token of kindness with a brief moment of respect. But still, he treasured those moments as much as he treasured his spell book.
Recently, Arthur had been spending more time with, and practically worshipped, Mordred. Mordred of all people! And that really burned Merlin’s soul. The very person who Arthur should fear most; being in his confidence. Being consulted, listened to, appreciated! He’d even overheard Arthur asking Mordred about the druids and magic. That had cut Merlin so deeply he didn’t think he’d ever heal.
Merlin had long known that his obsession with Arthur wasn’t healthy for him. Arthur had moved on of course, he had Gwen now and his round table knights. Merlin had naively thought that he would have a seat at that table, after all, Arthur had practically forced him into a seat when they were planning how to take back Camelot. He thought he’d finally done enough to earn Arthur’s respect and his heart had soared. But as soon as they got home, Arthur reverted to his true form. He’d always been a bit oblivious and mean towards those who weren’t part of the court or nobility. But Merlin thought he’d helped Arthur move past that, and he had, for the most part. But somehow he’d always overlooked Merlin. At first, Merlin had thought that it was because Arthur always wanted him by his side, so he was happy to overlook the slights too. But it was getting harder and harder.
All he did was for Arthur and while he didn’t do it for reward or recognition, he was getting tired of being seen as silly, weak, idiot Merlin, even if it was the perfect disguise. For no one would ever think him a powerful sorcerer.
And yet, despite all that had come to pass, he would stay and carry on as he had been. Even though it was slowly killing him. Because Arthur needed Merlin, and Merlin had been made for him.
Magic had shaped and sculpted him from the moment he had existed; before he had even been born. He hadn’t understood it growing up; the feeling of emptiness, of not being complete. He had thought himself a monster and wondered if he was missing a soul altogether. Then he had met Arthur and he had realised that feeling had gone. That deep down ache had been because he had been missing a part of himself, magic and destiny had decreed it so.
So he couldn’t leave. He could never leave Arthur. He would continue to wait and continue to hope that perhaps, maybe, one day Arthur will acknowledge him. That he will truly know him and truly accept him and that they will truly be able to reach their potential. After all he had been made for him.
Pairing(s): Background Arthur Pendragon/Gwen (Merlin)
Character(s): Merlin with mentions of Arthur Pendragon, Gwen and Mordred.
Word Count: 906
Rating: Gen
Summary: Sometimes Merlin wondered what he was still doing in Camelot.
Notes: Here, have some angst! Written for Prompt #271 on Camelot Drabble. On AO3 here.
Merlin sometimes wondered what he was still doing in Camelot.
Arthur was king, he was happily married to Gwen. He was just and deserving of his subjects. Fair and kind where he could be, yet firm and determined to do the best for his people.
He spent more time in council meetings and with his knights than ever before and with Gwen attending to him in the morning and evenings, Merlin barely spent any time at all with Arthur that wasn’t shared with someone else.
He supposed that was a bit selfish of him to want Arthur to himself. Arthur certainly didn’t seem to mind the change. But then again, he had people vying for his attention left, right and centre. So maybe it suited him that Merlin wasn’t yet another person clamouring for attention and perhaps it shouldn’t matter so much to Merlin either.
He was, of course, used to Arthur’s comments and jibes about him and his appearance, that hadn’t changed. But before now they’d had an element of fondness to them. Of late, he seemed to get the brunt of Arthur’s temper when he was angered and his comments were sharp and had an element of callousness to them. Before now, even through the insults, he’d felt that Arthur might eventually respect him. But now he knew there was no respect there. Merlin was just the idiot who was convenient to have around; who knew how Arthur liked things done. Merlin just longed for Arthur to respect him. Even a little.
He wondered if it might just be better to leave. Surely he was no longer needed here. Morgana hadn’t been seen in over a year. If she were alive wouldn’t she have made her move by now? Plus, Arthur was even more set against magic than he’d ever been before. He was past the point where Merlin could sway his mind. To the contrary, all he’d done was strengthen Arthur’s resolve against magic and the guilt from that was eating him up from the inside.
Maybe Killgharrah was wrong. He wasn’t Emrys and Arthur wasn’t the Once and Future King, they didn’t have this big destiny together. Perhaps the dragon and the Druids were so keen to see magic restored to Camelot that they were reading into things that just weren’t there. Because Merlin certainly didn’t feel that they had a destiny anymore.
There were very, very occasional moments where Arthur still spoke to him as he used to and Merlin drank it up like a field of crops in a drought, even though afterwards he felt rather pathetic to be so easily pleased by the small token of kindness with a brief moment of respect. But still, he treasured those moments as much as he treasured his spell book.
Recently, Arthur had been spending more time with, and practically worshipped, Mordred. Mordred of all people! And that really burned Merlin’s soul. The very person who Arthur should fear most; being in his confidence. Being consulted, listened to, appreciated! He’d even overheard Arthur asking Mordred about the druids and magic. That had cut Merlin so deeply he didn’t think he’d ever heal.
Merlin had long known that his obsession with Arthur wasn’t healthy for him. Arthur had moved on of course, he had Gwen now and his round table knights. Merlin had naively thought that he would have a seat at that table, after all, Arthur had practically forced him into a seat when they were planning how to take back Camelot. He thought he’d finally done enough to earn Arthur’s respect and his heart had soared. But as soon as they got home, Arthur reverted to his true form. He’d always been a bit oblivious and mean towards those who weren’t part of the court or nobility. But Merlin thought he’d helped Arthur move past that, and he had, for the most part. But somehow he’d always overlooked Merlin. At first, Merlin had thought that it was because Arthur always wanted him by his side, so he was happy to overlook the slights too. But it was getting harder and harder.
All he did was for Arthur and while he didn’t do it for reward or recognition, he was getting tired of being seen as silly, weak, idiot Merlin, even if it was the perfect disguise. For no one would ever think him a powerful sorcerer.
And yet, despite all that had come to pass, he would stay and carry on as he had been. Even though it was slowly killing him. Because Arthur needed Merlin, and Merlin had been made for him.
Magic had shaped and sculpted him from the moment he had existed; before he had even been born. He hadn’t understood it growing up; the feeling of emptiness, of not being complete. He had thought himself a monster and wondered if he was missing a soul altogether. Then he had met Arthur and he had realised that feeling had gone. That deep down ache had been because he had been missing a part of himself, magic and destiny had decreed it so.
So he couldn’t leave. He could never leave Arthur. He would continue to wait and continue to hope that perhaps, maybe, one day Arthur will acknowledge him. That he will truly know him and truly accept him and that they will truly be able to reach their potential. After all he had been made for him.
