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[This time, the recording starts with a long, drawn out sigh. Then, surprisingly, it's still Merlin's voice that rattles off the voicemail in tones of long-suffering.]

Hello, you've reached King Arthur Pr--Pendragon. He isn't here to answer your call because he's incredibly important and busy. If you leave a message here with me, I'll make sure he gets it because I am a good servant--and friend-- [he adds the last bit in a rush, accompanied with a thwap!, an 'ow!' and an 'I heard that,' then forces the rest of the words out through gritted teeth] and will do anything my master asks of me.

[A couple seconds pass, then Merlin speaks again, this time sounding a bit further away, like he isn't speaking into the bracelet anymore.] There, happy now? If you ask me, the other one is still better-- Shut up, Merlin. It's time to do yours next. Wait, what --

[ click! ]

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[Hey, Arthur. Guess who's not in the mood to talk to you?]

go away

[ Arthur DGAF about your ~moods~, Merlin. ]

Where are you?

[Whatever, ~your highness~.]

in Asgard

[Yep, he's being difficult. Deal with it.]

Your endless wit never ceases to amaze, truly. Now tell me where you are.

Wittier than, you at least.

Why.

Why do you think, you --

[ Breathe, sire. Breathe. ]

So that I can find you. Clearly.

[Fine, you prat.]

The park in Baldr. Next to the lake.

[ If he looks a little bit visibly relieved to actually get his location, you're imagining things. ]

I'll be there in ten - [ A pause ] - seven minutes.

[ And because Arthur is a man of his word, but also a bit of an overachiever, he manages to get there within his seven minute promise. But he's not out of breath because he did not very nearly run to get here. No sense of urgency, whatsoever.

Which is why he plops down beside Merlin casually, feet stretched out in front of him and propping himself up on his arms behind him, just close enough to brush his shoulder against Merlin if he wants to.

He doesn't. Not yet.

He doesn't speak for a moment, and when he finally does, it's quietly, softly. Attempting to break the silence with comfort and familiarity. ]

It's nice out here.

[It's such an off-topic thing to say, when they both know what's weighing on their minds, that Merlin can't help but snort in reply.]

Nice enough.

[He selects a smooth pebble from the ground and attempts to skip it across the water--rather awkwardly, since he's still sitting.]

[ The snort chills him more than the brisk air, and Arthur can't even bring himself to poke fun at Merlin's failed attempt of skipping stones. He merely watches as the last ring smooths out into the water before speaking again. ]

It's Freya, isn't it?

[Arthur gets a long, quiet sigh before Merlin gives in and nods. There's no point hiding it when it was terribly obvious already. And he's seen the two of them talking before.]

You guessed it.

[ Arthur stays quiet, eyes narrowing slightly at the water. ]

I didn't know.

[ But it seems there's a lot he doesn't know. Volumes, volumes of volumes, and it feels like Arthur is always one step behind everyone else even though they claim to be following him. He picks up a stone and only manages to skip it twice before it sinks. ]

She told me who she is. Was. Before I -

[ Before he slew the beast she turned into. Before he cut her down, and she was the reason Merlin was so dodgy. She was his sweetheart and he killed her and he didn't know. ]

It's... [Merlin stops himself. No, it's not all right. It's not fair that Freya, one of the kindest people he's met, would have to suffer through the curse and be killed for it. It's not fair that he couldn't even help her when she needed it. It's not fair that Merlin lost his quiet future before it'd even started.

But...it also wouldn't be fair for Merlin to blame Arthur.]

You didn't know. You were just protecting the city.

[ He snorts, a dry and ugly laugh of sorts. ]

I was, and I'd do it again it meant saving innocent lives, but that's not exactly a comfort.

[ Arthur knows he's hurt people that didn't deserve it before - or rather, that only deserved it out of an indiscriminate fear that he doesn't even entirely buy into - but this is different on a thousand different levels, and not different at all at the same time. For all the time he's spent questioning his actions, it seems his time here is spent questioning those questions, and it's nearly unbearable.

But this isn't about him. This was never about him and it shouldn't be about him, because he isn't the one that was wronged. The blood is on his hands and he'll bear that mark forever, but the loss shows on Merlin's where there is nothing in his hands at all.

Because Arthur took it. And Merlin will bear that forever. ]

Did you love her? Or - I suppose, do you still?

[His hands clench involuntarily into fists, and a shiver runs through him. How straightforward and cold of Arthur is it to say that? And yet, perhaps what bothers Merlin the most is that he understands those words perfectly. Because he, too, subscribes to that school of thought.

As much as it had hurt to offer Morgana the poisoned water, it had meant saving innocent lives. It was Morgana's life against the lives of everyone else in Camelot--the choice was a painful, but easy one to make. And he would do it again, if it came down to the same decision.

Doesn't that put him in the same position as Arthur? Knowing he's taken someone precious away, but knowing there was no other way to save the people being hurt?]

I...I understand. [More than he's willing to say right now.] You don't have to explain.

[Merlin bows his head.] I did love her then. She was special and.. [He sighs] she made me feel like I meant something. I still care about her a lot, but it's...it's been over two years.

[It had hurt more than he could say when he lost her, but Merlin had a duty to Arthur and the kingdom, and a destiny to fulfill. With Camelot constantly in danger, he simply couldn't afford to let himself stay down. If he loses someone, he forces himself to get over it, and continues like nothing had happened. Lather, rinse, repeat. What else could he do?]

[ Arthur tells himself to face Merlin as he speaks, to look into the face of that which is his own making as a man should, but. But Merlin has always presented something strange and foreign to the Prince, understanding and acceptance, the truth save for the one place it matters most - and isn't that all for the sake of serving him? Of remaining at his side?

There is loyalty and devotion, and then there is Merlin. This strange man that came here from nowhere and nothing to forge a Sun, burning bright and eternal to light the way for everyone but himself. And Arthur cannot bear to look upon it. ]

I don't understand.

[ Selfless and sincere, always so twice-damned sincere, and for one who is so wrapped up in pretense and propriety and toeing the line of what he is and what he's allowed to be, Arthur just doesn't understand. Merlin has given so much, lost so much, and still stands on all for seemingly no reason other than because he can. Because he wants to, and Arthur just can't bear it.

He can't look and it isn't proper, it isn't right, but Merlin is something different and special and he just can't. ]

How can you stand to remain in my service? How -

[ He stumbles, because he shouldn't, because he is a coward and a fool, but this is important. Merlin is important, and Arthur doesn't understand. ]

- how do you not hate me?

I was angry at first. I won't deny it. [It's just as well that Arthur hasn't managed to look up, because neither has Merlin. His boots scrape against the ground quietly as Merlin draws his legs up, arms wrapping around them and keeping them in place.]

Then I realised you hadn't known. How could you have, if I hid her away and kept her secret? For all you knew, the bastet was just another magical creature hurting Camelot's people, just like all the others before.

I didn't want to believe it when--when Gaius told me. I thought...she was like me, that she thought her magic was a curse because of what she'd heard. [Merlin ducks his head again.] I wanted to help her see that magic could be something great, something beautiful, like Gaius taught me. I didn't think--

[Merlin breaks off, exhaling shakily.] It's not fair, what happened to her, but it wasn't your fault. If anything, the blame falls on the woman who placed the curse on Freya, for using magic like that and destroying someone's life.

So...yeah. I don't hate you.

[ This time, when Arthur breathes out something akin to a laugh, it is not as cold or derisive as the last, but light and airy, like that first gasp of air after being pulled from drowning. Desperate and relieved, but also something terrified.

He knocks his shoulder against Merlin's just a little. ]

That's not ... entirely what I meant. Though I'm glad to know you're as much of a girl as I'd thought.

[ He doesn't smile with the tease, though, because he's too busy trying to find the right words to explain himself. He crosses his legs beneath him and plucks out a few blades of grass to idle his hands. ]

It's not just Freya that I've taken from you, and I know this. What I don't understand is how you've grown to accept that. Men who've suffered half as much have cursed my name to the grave.

[ The grass falls from his hands so he can stare at them, these things that are so very good at breaking things. ]

You said you wanted to show her that ... magic can be beautiful. And I've spent my whole life showing people otherwise. By all accounts, the things I've done and the things I've cost you - I do not deserve the loyalty you give me.

[ He balls his hands and finally looks over to Merlin, brows furrowed. ]

You should hate me.

[ He would. ]

Maybe I should, but I don't. [Why does Arthur keep insisting that Merlin hate him for this? Hating someone for something that isn't even their fault is not something Merlin ever wanted, and he's accepted long ago that it isn't Arthur's fault.] Because I know you. And I don't want to hate--not like that.

[He holds Arthur's gaze, sorrow lining his features.] You're a good man, Arthur. What would be the point of blaming you? I've seen what happens when sorcerers give into their hatred, and I don't want to end up like them.

[Though he doesn't give names, it's almost a given that Morgana would be at the forefront of his and Arthur's minds when he says this. Hatred had twisted someone wonderful, brave-hearted, and loyal into a shell of herself that ran completely on hatred and anger. What kind of life would that be, seeing magic only as a tool for revenge, and not appreciating the beautiful things it could do?]

Edited 2012-06-12 18:58 (UTC)

[ His breath halts a little, mind wandering to his sister exactly as intended. He thinks of their childhood, wildly out of control and fighting good-naturedly just to best each other at every turn. Of their later years, when duty took its place to harden him and she wore him down like stone on steel to remind him of his humanity. Of here, in Asgard, where they are closer than ever by mercy of a second chance and a forgiveness that aches in Arthur's chest when he thinks on it for too long.

He thinks of the cruelty in her voice and the daggers in her eyes when she took their father's crown and sat upon his throne.

And then there's Merlin. Merlin, who is overly eager, painfully honest, too willing to sacrifice himself for - for what, Arthur couldn't say. He is not a soldier, has not been shaped for war and battle, but sometimes Arthur has to wonder if he isn't the stronger between them. His eyes linger on Merlin's face, pointedly everywhere but his eyes before he can bring himself to see the sincerity there, and then Arthur sighs light-heartedly and gets to his feet. ]

One of these days, I will understand what goes on in that head of yours.

[ He brushes the grass from his backside and grabs another smooth stone, skipping it properly and managing five bounces before it sinks on the sixth. Arms folded across his chest as he watches the ripples pan out and vanish, Arthur swallows against something unpleasant building in his throat. He keeps his back to Merlin when he speaks again. ]

I'm sorry. For teasing you. It was not my place.

You mean you haven't fathomed me out yet?

[The pseudo teasing smile drops as Arthur says his next words, and Merlin shakes his head.]

Don't--I told you: you don't need to apologise.

[Apologising means Arthur making a big deal out of what had happened, and Merlin doesn't want that. It's been two years, he's put it behind him, and he doesn't want to look back (too often). He's made too many mistakes, and he spends too much time considering those "what ifs" on his own without Arthur bringing them up, too.]

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