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Merlin never had time to let the weight in his chest slow him down. He was always running for his life or fulfilling destiny or maintaining his mask in front of Arthur. How could Arthur rely on him if he knew that some days Merlin wanted melt into the earth and watch the day go by as a puddle of mud?
Occasionally, however, Merlin would visit Hunith and take a few extra days to travel there and back so he could waste one or two lying under an oak and letting the earth take his weight for while. He felt bad, of course, to lie to everyone, to take these selfish moments that could be spent helping Gaius, visiting his mother, or protecting Arthur but if he didn’t, Merlin thought he might just collapse under the pressure of it all.
It wasn’t one of those stolen days but Merlin still had to put the weight down somewhere as he finished up gathering herbs for Gaius in the dense woods.
Merlin set down his basket and used his neckerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow as he settled heavily under a large maple. The moss that grew on the south side of the tree made a decent cushion but Merlin preferred the bite of the bark through his thin tunic.
An hour. Merlin thought. Just an hour and I can pick up the weight again.
Merlin sat there under the ancient tree and hardly moved his eyes from the large stone protruding from the forest floor some couple yards away. The buzz of the forest grew dim in his ears and the heat of the afternoon seemed to barely touch him.
An hour passed this way but the weight seemed to only grow on Merlin’s chest as he barely even thought, just sat. After the first hour the guilt began to pile onto the weight as well but by then it was too late, the forest floor had opened up and the as slowly consuming Merlin.
The sun was getting low when a branch cracked to Merlin’s left but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Let the forest bring what beast it may, Merlin was already one with the moss and decay.
“Merlin, the hell are you doing?”
On a better day Merlin would jump to his feet and make up some story about falling asleep or taking a rest, but today Merlin was too heavy to be moved.
Instead, Merlin barely lifted his head to turn to look at the prince as he stood beside him, confusion written plain on his face.
“Merlin, is everything alright?” Arthur asked, the earlier annoyance in his voice fading to poorly concealed concern.
Merlin looked away from the prince. He was too bright today, his golden hair and sun kissed skin were too sharp a contrast to Merlin’s heavy grey.
Merlin nodded a small, almost imperceptible nod.
“Well then get your sorry ass up and go fetch me super, I’m starved,” Arthur said crassly but he stooped low to pick up Merlin’s abandoned basket and offered a gentle hand to the pathetic warlock.
Merlin looked tiredly at the hand the prince had offered, at the callouses, and the pink fingertips, then up at the soft blue eyes that stared at him pleadingly.
Merlin took the hand and stood. He was Atlas after all, and he couldn’t unload his burden.
Arthur pulled Merlin up gently and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, as if he unconsciously had to make sure that Merlin was really there, that Merlin hadn’t fully faded into a phantom. Arthur led the way back to the castle, carrying Merlin’s basket all the while as if it wasn’t completely improper for the Once and Future King to hold the herbs of a melancholy servant.
Arthur led Merlin back to Gaius’ chambers and set the basket of herbs on the physician’s messy table.
Merlin waited for Arthur to send him immediately to the kitchens while the prince himself went back to his chambers to wait on his incompetent servant, but instead Arthur turned back to Merlin, who stood loitering in the doorway and once again offered a hand.
Merlin took it gratefully. Arthur was blissfully unaware of the weight Merlin held in him all the time but somehow he took a portion of it all the same when he took Merlin’s hand in his.
Arthur pulled Merlin to the bench and sat him down gently. He held onto Merlin’s hand as the other reached for his brow.
“No fever,” Arthur said quietly, his voice sounding somehow more concerned rather than relieved.
Arthur’s hand fell absentmindedly from Merlin’s forehead down his cheek and settled on the his shoulder. Merlin looked up then from his shoes where he’d been staring since he’d sat down to Arthur’s face and his chest cracked a little to see the grief there.
“I’m sorry,” was all Merlin could think to say. But what he’d really meant was so many other things. Sorry for letting you down. Sorry I’m so weak. Sorry you have to take care of me.
Arthur’s frown deepened and his brow furrowed further. “Don’t be,” was all he said for a long while before tearing his gaze from Merlin’s face and demanding, “Where is Gaius?”
“The lower town, I didn’t make it back in time for the evening deliveries so he must have took them himself,“ Merlin said, feeling his guilt grow but still feeling distant from his own emotions.
“Well,” Arthur said thoughtfully as a sat next to Merlin on the bench, moving his hand from Merlin’s shoulder so that he now clasped Merlin’s hand in both of his own, “due to near constant assassination attempts I have dealt with my fair share of maladies, perhaps if you confide in me I could help.”
Merlin looked Arthur almost pityingly. “I believe I have the one thing in all of Albion that not even Gaius could cure.”
Merlin turned from Arthur so he didn’t have to see the prince’s heart break further. For all his prattishness, Arthur never could stand to see someone suffer, not even a manservant.
Arthur’s grip tightened around Merlin’s hand.
“When I was young my father had what Gaius called melancholy. He would spend days in his chambers refusing food or company. I was just a bit so I didn’t understand until I was older that during those spells of anguish my father was feeling the loss of my mother all over again. Gaius would bring him medicines and insist that Uther go for walks but sometimes it seemed like my father would never re-emerge from his chambers,” Arthur paused and look at Merlin to see if he understood.
Merlin did and he felt laid bare by the understanding, raw and exposed, but he still didn’t meet Arthur’s eye, even as tears began to fall over the edge of his eyelashes.
Arthur continued, “ Gaius told me when I became of age that sometimes such spouts of melancholy are hereditary, inexplicable, and without provocation. I’ve always feared that the dark mood would come for me as well, that on that day I would fail Camelot. For a long time I didn’t let myself stop moving, lest the darkness catch me. Merlin, I’ve never been ensnared by this feeling before but it seems to have captured you.”
“M’ sorry-“ Merlin choked out as a sob racked his body.
“No,” Arthur said quickly, his eyes growing wide. Arthur pulled Merlin’s head protectively to his chest. “No, it’s not your fault. I just- I think I know what you are feeling and…”
Arthur seemed to pick through his words carefully for a long drawn out moment and Merlin released tear after tear upon his tunic.
“Merlin I- I love you deeply and I want to protect you from this but I don’t think I can. But I can be here for you, I can hold your hand when it feels like too much to bear.”
Merlin flung his arms around Arthur’s back and held him tightly and the weight lifted for a moment. They’d never said anything about the unspoken bond they shared, never acknowledged the lingering hands and aching glances but Arthur had broken the spell. Merlin loved Arthur too, more than he could believe some days.
They sat there, holding each other for an eternity until Merlin pulled away and looked into Arthur’s eyes, noticing for the first time the red that ringed them.
“You love me?”
“Much to my mortification,” Arthur said cracking a thin hopeful smile.
“I love you, too.” Merlin said in small voice.
Arthur raised his hand to cup Merlin’s face once more and held their foreheads together as he whispered, “ I cannot bear your burden but I will love you through it, if you allow me.”
A final tear fell from Merlin’s eye and he nodded feverishly, “that’s all I could ask for.”