route_1065 | when the world gets too heavy ♪ [closed]

Who:

loveofcamelot
Where: Breedinghaus! (Correct me if I'm wrong, Kamilah—)
When: Backdated horrifically to November 3 or so, l m a o.
Summary: Arthur finally realizes that Merlin's even more different than he seems. Consequences, consequences.
Rating: PG, maybe.
Log:

[ Another night in Johto that Arthur was hoping would be his last, and another morning to disappoint him. He dresses in front of the mirror to avoid any stupid mistakes — something he's still getting the hang of — and lets Gwen out of her ball once he's done. She pats his hand and moves to the window to look out.

Arthur glances out at the city past her. It's growing more familiar by the day, but he still wakes up disoriented, without Merlin's company and his bedchambers around him. He'd rather go home than adjust, but since the former doesn't seem like an option, he'll settle for getting used to the place.

A task that would be made much easier, he reflects, if Merlin would get his lazy self in here already. He turns from the window and leans out the door into the hall. ]

Merlin! Where's my breakfast?

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[The halls of the Breeding House have no problem carrying Arthur's voice to the kitchen, where a lanky form stands, trying to put together his own breakfast. After a second, Merlin drains the water from his glass, and sets it down on the counter with a soft clink. The hand holding the glass trembles slightly.

It had been different, hadn't it? On the road, traveling as they were, neither Merlin or Arthur had had a chance to probe at each other, test the shift in their relationship, the new boundaries. Would their old routine hold up to it? Now that things had settled again after the Samhain festival and ghost pokemon's tricks, Merlin would find out.

He lets go of the glass before his twitching knocks it off the counter, looking toward the staircase with some trepidation. Better than anyone, Merlin knows that he has to go through with it. Too much has changed between him and Arthur already, and even Arthur can't ignore that things are different, if his reaction to Merlin during their first meeting is a good indication.

Merlin doesn't want to lose Arthur, the closest thing to a best friend he had in Camelot. Still, in all fairness, Merlin supposes he must make Arthur accept that they are friends before he can lose him at all. It might take a long time before Arthur sees a friend--a friend, an equal--standing where his servant used to be, but Merlin's willing to wait.

And so he climbs the stairs and finds the door.]

You called? [Merlin purposely leaves out the customary "sire"--this is his first step forward. From now on, he'll meet Arthur halfway.]

[ Arthur's sitting on the edge of his bed when Merlin comes in, watching Gwen putter around the room and clean things up, as if it's her job. She's been a small blessing in a bizarre new landscape, looking after him like her namesake does, and even managing to fill a fraction of Merlin's shoes. It might have been easier to accept if she weren't a portly pink cow, but Arthur's managed to move past that by now.

She totters over to Merlin when he enters and offers her customary bottle of milk — Lord knows where she keeps them, but she's been donating one to the Breeding House's refrigerator every day she's been here. Arthur looks from Gwen to Merlin, half-amused. ]

Breakfast. And take that milk to the kitchen for her.

[Merlin accepts the bottle from her--he still can't believe Arthur named his pokemon after Gwen--and tucks it into his bag. Then he clasps his hands behind his back to hide their shaking.]

Arthur. [His voice comes out quieter, smaller than he'd wanted, so he clears his throat. The urge to laugh this off, fall back into the routine, delay the conversation another day only grows stronger. But he pushes it back, draws strength from the feel of the warm metal encircling his thumb, from the frame of the glasses pressing into his thigh from inside his pocket, and continues.]

What do you expect from me while we're here?

[ His attention is drawn away from Gwen by the uncomfortable hush of Merlin's voice, but it's kept by the question. Arthur examines his friend, searches his face with slightly-furrowed brow, tries to discern what may have prompted this, or what might be wrong. (Because something's wrong — Arthur wouldn't have noticed if Merlin had tried to behave normally, but looking at him now, he's tense, he uneasy. It's not right.)

He straightens his back a bit, sizing Merlin up before he answers. ]

What I've always expected. Half-decent service, terrible jokes.

[ It's a light-hearted answer, but not untruthful. He's not sure what Merlin thinks he expects. Why should he expect anything different than usual? ]

They're not terrible, you've just got no sense of humour. [The response is automatic. Easy. If only he could--but he can't. Merlin knows that even if he did allow himself to give in, it wouldn't be long before he'd start questioning himself, wondering how things might have worked out if he'd taken the other path.

It's fear that held his tongue all these years, fear of change. A fear that things would never be the same between them again. Hasn't he always wanted Arthur to accept him for who he is? Nevermind the magic, what about the person he's become in Johto? Should Arthur push him away here, things would simply be the same when they went back to Camelot, wouldn't they? Back to Prince Arthur and his servant Merlin. There's no better time than now to do this.]

So...half-decent service. [Just like he expected, of course.]

Arthur...it's been a year since I first got here. I've...changed. I know you've noticed, there's no use saying otherwise. [The words are gentle, to soften the blow.] Did you really think things would just...stay the same?

[ A frown creases his face as Merlin speaks, but he holds his gaze. The idiot's not wrong, much as Arthur wishes he were. It would be nice, wouldn't it? To have just a touch of the old routine here, the usual banter, the everyday comforts of home in a place so far removed from Camelot as to be unbelievable? There's a selfish part of him that would love nothing more than to quash this small rebellion where it stands, rope Merlin back into their usual rapport and spare himself.

But it's clear, looking at Merlin, that's not an option he can take. Merlin has changed. He's not the same man Arthur left in Camelot last, and it would be — unfair? Inconsiderate? Irrational, if nothing else — of Arthur to expect him to be, just for his sake. No, after all that's gone between them (drinking poison, braving death, stupid lies, small comforts, standing at the Round Table—), the least Arthur can do is man up and not force Merlin into a mold he no longer fits. (The mold of a servant. He's no longer a servant, is he?)

He can't hide his displeasure in the set of his jaw, the purse of his lips, and his voice is harder than he wants it to be. ]

No, I suppose they won't, will they?

Edited 2011-12-08 19:56 (UTC)

[He would have to be blind to miss the signs of Arthur's displeasure, though his words indicate some acceptance. But how deep does that acceptance to? The crack between them feels like a gaping chasm with just these few utterances, almost as if simply acknowledging the distance between them had widened it all the more.]

Arthur. [The one step forward takes much more energy than it should. He feels rooted to the spot, reluctant to move until he and Arthur have talked this out. He needs to make Arthur understand.]

That doesn't mean everything has changed. I'm still Merlin...just...not your servant any longer. [A wince accompanies that confession, but it needed to be said.]

[ Even if he's already thought it, the words hit like a blow to the chest — dulled through armour and chain, but still heavy enough to feel in his bones. He doesn't flinch or reel, just waits for it to subside along with the slow turn of his stomach.

Not his servant anymore, no. He can see that in the square of Merlin's shoulders, can hear it in the way he says his name: 'Arthur,' just so, as if he has a right.

But he does, doesn't he? They're friends, almost, or sort of, or close enough that Arthur can let a bit of informal address slide. They're master and servant, and they're also friends. They're not friends first, but it seems like they're friends last. When their titles are stripped, when they're left in a land where royalty has no meaning and servants have no purpose, they're still friends. Hasn't he always thought that they could be, if circumstances were different?

His mouth twists, disapproval warring with an attempt at a wry smile that doesn't quite work out. ]

Maybe not, but you're still a big girl.

when the world gets too heavy ♪ [closed]

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ugh sorry this is so late;;

♥