All In The Eyes (Merlin)
Title: All In The Eyes
Author: julesoh
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Word Count: 699
Summary: “I won’t leave,” Merlin insists, but Arthur’s hand presses tightly on his wrist.
Notes: Written for the fifth (I skipped the fourth) challenge at merlin_las which was to write 700 words of an AU - and I chose the prompt involving someone not dying or dying at a different time than is canon. Also, I won! :-) Thank you! </bragging> And also, apologies for my Arthur's useless attempts at Old English.



Merlin wakes in the dark with a strangled cry, his hands gripping the sheets hard enough to tear. He rolls to his side and searches blindly until his fingers encounter skin, and shuffles close, burying his face in a warm neck with a shaky inhale.

Arthur shifts automatically to accommodate him, intertwining their legs and throwing one arm over Merlin’s waist. He seeks out his breastbone with the other, sliding his hand so it rests over Merlin’s racing heart.

“Dreams again?” he asks sleepily into Merlin’s hair.

“The same,” Merlin confirms. “A Camelot where magic is outlawed, where you do not smile so freely, where danger lurks everywhere.” Where Igraine died when you were a baby, he does not add.

Arthur presses his lips to Merlin’s cheekbone, his sharp teeth grazing Merlin’s skin as he smiles. “This is not that Camelot,” he reassures him, pulling him closer. “Licg, mîn lufiend.”

The words do not flow easily from Arthur’s tongue, but Merlin understands the sentiment and relaxes into the embrace, his heart finally beginning to slow.

---

Camelot is a perfect city, with high, strong walls and people who are well-fed and kept safe by King Uther, his golden queen, and their honey-blond son.

Merlin’s mother had told him before he left of the beauty and kindness of Queen Igraine, but no descriptions could have prepared him for meeting her in person. He adores her immediately, and pushes her out of the way of a spooked horse galloping straight for them in Camelot’s sunny streets. His reward is a position as Prince Arthur’s manservant.

Arthur’s smile is as easy as his mother’s, and his strength as impressive as his father’s, and he holds Merlin every night when the nightmares come. Merlin cannot explain them - he does not have the seer’s gift, like Morgana and Nimueh, but the dreams haunt his slumber without fail and leave him edgy and shivery when he casts his spells.

---

Igraine falls ill on a summer’s day, blanching and swooning into Uther’s arms, The king carries her to their rooms, Gaius following, and the rest of them hover by the doorway worriedly.

Gwen holds Morgana’s hand, and murmurs reassurances that it is probably just the heat, nothing more serious. Nimueh watches impassively, a little way further down the corridor, her stare trained on Arthur as he fidgets and stares at the flagstones. Merlin’s stomach coils sickly as it always does under her gaze, and presses himself closer to his prince.

Gaius shakes his head mournfully when the door reopens, and Uther’s face is white as he takes Nimueh’s arm in a vice-like grip and drags his adviser down the corridor.

That night, it is Arthur’s turn to be held, Merlin’s arms stroking over the shivering back, the echoes of Uther and Nimueh’s screaming argument still ringing through the castle. Arthur does not sleep, his eyes lamp-like in the moon’s glow: not grey like Uther’s, not green like Igraine’s, but a dead match for Nimueh’s shocking blue.

---

Camelot transforms quickly, Merlin thinks, as he gazes up at the castle from his hiding place at the edge of the trees - those strong walls dark and menacing against a swirling grey sky that has been the first victim of Uther’s distraught rage - no dragons flying there now.

Arthur appears, face and hair ghostly as he presses a package into Merlin’s hands. “Provisions enough for four days,” he whispers.

“I won’t leave,” Merlin insists, but Arthur’s hand presses tightly on his wrist.

“He'll take your lives for hers - and I will not see you dead, Merlin.”

He is the last to leave; Gaius took a horse last night, and Morgana and Nimueh had fled early this morning, leaving the east wing of the castle burning.

“I’ll come for you. When Camelot is our own once more,” Arthur promises desperately. “I will make it safe.”

Merlin’s heart constricts, and he tugs Arthur close, kisses him hard enough that he knows it will bruise. Arthur pushes back, their teeth clashing as their tongues jostle, fighting for a last taste. “I will be waiting,” Merlin says fiercely when they finally part.

Arthur’s smile is the exact one he wears in Merlin’s dreams, as he pauses in his retreat to offer one last warning: “Keep the magic secret.”

End.