Archive of Our Own

The Beginning

It was a shock to his family and friends. A wedding invitation is usually something that is expected in advance; or at least somewhat anticipated. It is treasured. An event to look forward to. Something mothers wait for and are overwhelmed by.

Instead when he came back from the hospital Merlin was greeted by an angrily blinking answering machine. The bunch of concerned and agitated messages from his closest friends and family members fitted the occasion. He knew he had it coming, that they would wonder why. Hell, he would give anything to be able to provide them with an easy explanation.

His mother was the first.

“Merlin, it's Mum. I know you are busy with your internship and all at the hospital…but are you alright? We got this invitation, and we were wondering …”

Then Gwaine. Of course.

“You crazy? What shit did you smoke when you sent that stuff? Call me. I seriously need to speak to your drugstore clerk. And Freya? How did you come up with that stoned name, seriously, man…“

Morgana.

“You do not seriously expect congratulations or anything do you? You know I hate practical jokes.”

Gwen.

“Merlin, I know you have been unhappy. Especially lately, with Sophia coming into the picture and all. But this? This has gone too far. You know he wouldn't… he has never once…

Have you even talked to him yet? What did he say? Never mind. But this, this isn't a solution. Please call me.”

And then there was this one call. From an unknown number. The caller didn't say anything. There was just this eerie silence.

So Arthur did get his invitation. Good to know.

Freya asked him four days ago. It was uttered in a whisper. A request, not a demand. There was no threat of things being thrown at him. No blazing blue eyes daring him to say no.

“I would like you to say yes, of course. But I would totally understand if you said no.”

“I am gay.”

She smiled at him then. Not with regret, though, but with fondness. It made him feel strangely warm inside.

“I am aware. And I am dying. But besides these rather unlucky circumstances… I would love to be your wife.”

Still that smile. Merlin was sure he would still be able to call her his friend even if he refused. This was no one-way street. He had a choice. And he said yes.

Merlin had met Freya for the first time but two months ago. It was her third attempt at chemotherapy. And if it didn't work, it would be her last.

Doing his internship in the cancer ward of a hospital was hard enough on normal days, but on the day he met Freya Merlin was downright depressed. He had just learned about Sophia. Arthur had proposed. That  conversation had not been pleasant.

“You look worse for wear than half of the patients in here.”

He came into the room fully prepared to see another dying person, another hopeless case. But he was met by inquisitive brown eyes and that smile.

Merlin had never felt drawn towards a woman before. Even in his school days he was sure about his sexuality. Angular features, broad shoulders, golden mop of hair - this did it for him. Freya didn't look pretty that day. Nobody in the critical stages of cancer does, lying in a hospital bed. But undoubtedly Merlin felt a pull towards her that day and it had stayed with him ever since. They talked. They played chess. And then somewhat later she proposed.

Family Dinners

Pendragon Sunday family dinners were never fun. They never would be fun. So much was sure.

It was like the critical scene in an old western movie, just in an infinite never-ending loop. Two bad-ass scoundrels waiting for the clock to strike 12. Or a Roland Emmerich movie. You just waited for the apocalypse to happen. And it would, you knew it would, you just had to wait long enough. Usually it lasted up to three hours for the shit to hit the fan. For his father to start lecturing him on his faults. Not this time.

“So, your gay best friend is actually getting married before you. To a girl. I guess this mother of his will also have grandchildren before I do.”

Arthur just stepped into his father's country home. It was not the reception he had expected.

“Good morning, father.”

“It's not that I am particularly fond of this Merlin person, you know that. He always struck me as a dumb, clumsy fool. But this, Arthur? This is ridiculous, and I don't mean that country boy's marriage.”

His father was seated in the old chair in the reception hall. On the coffee table besides him Arthur spotted it. The invitation. He had examined his own copy often enough by now, so a short glance was sufficient to know what it was. Why would Uther get an invitation to his friend's wedding?

But that wasn't what this was really about – this was about him. About Arthur.

“You know father that I am also engaged to be married…”

“Don't be sarcastic. You will never marry this girl, Sophia or whatever her name. I had my private eye dig around a bit. Another gold-digger. “

Uther was waving around a brown envelope. Photos probably and not the best kind. Arthur was also familiar to that kind of envelope. The likelihood of one of them appearing grew steadily with the seriousness of his personal relationships. It was a shock anyhow.

“Congratulations, son. Your knowledge of human nature is really impeccable. ”

“Father, I…”

“You didn't know. I am sure. I am also tired of your childish antics Arthur. Now I will join Morgana for drinks in the drawing room. You on the other hand have 10 minutes. Clean up your mess. Look at these photos. Be an adult about it and make the two or three necessary phone calls. I hope for your sake that this disaster won't cost me one penny.”

It was a good thing Arthur wasn't actually in love. Otherwise the photos might have broken his heart.

After his father left the room and a not very thorough examination of the contents of the envelope he called his secretary on auto-pilot. New locks on the doors. No gift purchasing for Valentine's day necessary. Call the movers. It wasn't the first time she did this. She knew what to do.

Then he called Sophia. She was upset of course, but not overly emotional after she realized this approach wouldn't work on him. More like the CEO of a rivaling company that had just lost a business deal. It was a short conversation. And Arthur allowed himself to relax a bit after it was over.

He should have known really. He was warned. Multiple times by all his friends. By Merlin. He didn't listen, he was too besotted with his dream of being the ideal son for once. Of doing the right thing. Of making father and the company people happy.

His eyes were drawn to the invitation on the coffee table. An upcoming wedding, a cause for celebration. Merlin hadn't answered any of his calls and Arthur never left a message. He knew Morgana had visited the two "lovebirds" in the hospital. Just to check the girl existed at all.

His sister wasn't the romantic type, it wouldn't suit her. But afterwards she called him and said it was real. That there was something akin to love in Merlin's eyes, at least adoration. That the girl wasn't a mad sick fool who wanted to make fun of Merlin or exploit him. This Freya person genuinely cared for Merlin. Morgana guessed that they had a chance to be happy for whatever time period the girl would continue breathing.

When Arthur left the hall to join the others, he was sure that the pang in his chest was envy for Merlin's upcoming nuptials. He was sure in his belief that the tugging at his heart was fear to face his father's wrath.

Stag night 

Merlin had a girl sleeping in his bed. Well, his fiancé. It should be weird one day before their wedding, but considering the rather exceptional circumstances of the whole affair it wasn't. It was rather comforting.

Maybe, he wondered, a girl had slept in his bed before. One of Arthur's girls during the time they had shared a college dorm room. Merlin had probably been studying in the library or been preparing an essay for either himself or Arthur. It hadn't been unusual at the time – there was a reason Lance used to call him Arthur's personal servant. A pre-Med writing essays for an economics student. Utterly ridiculous. Merlin had been head over heels in love then. Not that he could be sure he wasn't now.

Freya was lying in his little single bed, curled into a ball. A thin strand of her regrowing brown hair was spread out over her eyes. She had a tiring day. The Senior Physician had only agreed to release her this morning. And as a poor excuse for a hen night she had tea with his mother, Gwen and Morgana. He seriously hoped that Morgana did behave herself this time around.

When Morgana had visited Freya in the hospital for the first time a few weeks ago, Merlin hadn't been there. He did an internship at the hospital, he couldn't possibly sit at Freya's bed 24 hours a day. When he came into her room at lunch break he witnessed their quarrel, or rather Morgana shouting at Freya.

“Honestly, who do you think you are? What a selfish, self-indulgent person would marry a poor bloke like Merlin knowing she will die? He will be downright miserable.”

“I…”

“Don't give me that shitty ‘I am dying and I deserve some happiness’ excuse. I swear I will punch you square in the face.”

“I just wanted to say… He is already miserable. Merlin, I mean.”

“Excuse me?!”

“As his friend Morgana you must know this, right? Merlin isn't happy, and yeah, I'm not happy either, but that's not the point. Merlin is great, but something is constantly pulling him down, making him depressed like hell. I don't know what it is and I don't pretend to. But I know that as his friend, you must surely see this, too. And I swear to you, Morgana, I will try anything in my power to make Merlin happy. I already am trying. And I honestly think we really have a chance at this…making each other happy.”

Merlin had interrupted the two then. The two girls had pretended they were just having a normal conversation, but Merlin knew better. Later when Morgana had left, she seemed quite amiable, even giving Freya a kiss on the cheek. They had promised each other they would go shopping. Morgana was really something. It seemed though, what Freya had said had gotten to her.

Since that moment Merlin knew, this wedding was also no piece of cake for Freya. She took it seriously and she did it not only for herself but also for him. That made Merlin smile. He lightly caressed her cheek, and put the unruly strand of her hair behind her ear. He had a stag night to go to. He bet Lance, Gwaine and the others were already waiting. Arthur was invited, but no one knew if he would come.

“See you tomorrow.”

With a last peck on her cheek he left the room.

Pub

It was a Saturday, the pub was full, the crowd loud and happy. As soon as he entered Merlin began searching for his friends. He found them at a corner table - Gwaine, Elyan and Percival were by the looks of it already nursing their second pint.

“Hey mate, so how is your wifey?”

“ Gwaine, shut up! “

Elyan punched Gwaine in the chest. It didn't look all too loving in Merlin's eyes.

“She has cancer.” Elyan hissed . “You don't ask these things of a girl who has fucking cancer!”

“But they are getting married tomorrow!! Am I not allowed anything? I wasn't even allowed to invite a damn stripper, because you weren't sure any longer if Merlin prefers tits or cock!”

So maybe it was the third pint. You could never be sure with his mates.

“Good evening to you, too. “

Merlin took a seat and smiled at his friends' childish play. They were all really good mates and he loved them. Even Gwaine who never thought before he talked. They were promptly joined by Lance who brought another round to their table.

“Freya is fine, just a bit exhausted really. Mum, Gwen and Morgana talked to her about this blue, new and old thing in the afternoon. And I think afterwards she was dog-tired from all the girly talk. She didn't get much of this in the hospital.”

“Where are her folks anyway? Isn't it their job to take care of her before the wedding?”

“She is an orphan, her parents died in a car crash.”

“Shit, man. Cancer and orphaned. That sucks big time.”

That earned Gwaine an under-the-table- kick from Lance. Merlin had talked with every one of his friends separately about the wedding. Elyan and Lance had already met Freya. They didn't understand him completely, but he guessed they sympathized with his reasons. They all knew the tragic tale of woe that was his love life.

“So, let me propose a toast to the groom and the bride to be. May their marriage be happy and fruitful!“

Merlin gave a Lance a sideways look at this, but didn't speak up. Instead he took a big gulp from his beer. The others did as well and all tension that might have been created by Gwaine's opening remark was quickly forgotten.

 Sometimes he was just glad that he had a group of such easygoing friends. Nobody gave him a hard time about tomorrow. Well, nobody who was present. Merlin was still not sure if he wanted Arthur to show up or not. He might have to ask Gwaine though, to be his best-man, if Arthur really chickened out.

Arthur arrived about one hour later. The dark long coat and the fashionable scarf did not distinguish him from most of the other patrons. But Arthur strolled in like he owned the place, so all-encompassing self-secure. Merlin thought – not for the first time - that you could fill a palace with the man's ego.

And of course, exactly at this point of the evening Gwaine gathered his liquid courage to broach a subject Merlin had dreaded.

“So the wedding night, Merlin. Any kinky plans for your first man-on-girl experience?”

“Yeah, Merlin, the mates and I want all the horrid details.”

That familiar hand on his shoulder. The light squeeze. As a greeting it was far too familiar and far too much all at once. It would all be so much easier if Arthur had stopped all this ages ago. Then Merlin could have started to put his brain, and his heart, back on track.

“Hey Arthur.”

Merlin turned his eyes to look directly into blue ones. There was something unusual in them, maybe phony cheerfulness. But if Arthur hadn't wanted to come, he shouldn’t have. And anyways he shouldn't stare into Arthur's eyes now, he should enjoy the awkward conversational topic.

“Wedding night….yeah, Freya and I have talked about that…”

“Not just talking man, acting! If you now swing that way, you should damn well act on it!”

Merlin was sure he was red like a tomato by now, but he still managed to shoot Gwaine a short glare.

“It's not that easy, guys. Come on, I mean, yeah we cuddle, and I enjoy that…”

“You are not honestly considering this, are you? To sleep with ... this woman?”

Arthur's tone was icy. Like Merlin had just proposed to have somebody killed. Everybody at the table was suddenly quiet.

“You mean my future spouse…”

“Nonsense. You are gay. You can't possibly be so daft to have forgotten that. You do this out of pity, this farce of a marriage. You know nobody will hunt you down if you don't consume this joke.”

Arthur looked at the other guys, probably expecting approving nods or something. He smiled like his patronizing ways didn't hurt anyone. But they did. Merlin couldn't afford to live by Arthur's standards anymore. He couldn't constantly look for his true love or make a new attempt at finding it every other weekend. He had found true love in his gorgeous college roommate, who was in the habit of constantly smashing his vulnerable heart into tiny, tiny pieces. And because he couldn't bear that any longer, he took a chance with Freya. So sod it, he had longed for a chance at happiness for far too long.

Merlin didn't answer right away. To tell the truth there wasn't anything he could come up with besides calling Arthur a self-righteous prat or whimpering that if Arthur didn't want him, he should damn well leave him alone and try not to destroy Merlin's big attempt at het romance. And it was really not like Freya had much of a sex drive anyways so shortly after the chemotherapy.

So Lance stepped in. Knight in shining armor and all, he tried to defuse the situation.

“Come on guys. No hard words. This is a stag party. We should have fun, right? Arthur you should get yourself a beer. Merlin, how is the hospital stuff going, besides you know…?”

“I quit.”

This was met by a chorus of excuse mes, whats and whys. Merlin thought the mood of the evening was destroyed after Arthur's little speech anyways, so to hell with it.

“Because of Freya. We want to travel a bit. You know, to make most of the time. London's Moloch has never helped anyone recover. Her parents left her a summer home on an island in Loch Lomond. So we are off to Scotland after the wedding.”

“How long do you plan on staying there?”

“Well, I don't know…. I guess for as long as long as we can.”

Merlin tried in vain to fake a smile. He had actually loved the idea of him and Freya spending an extended vacation somewhere. Of Freya not having to lie in a sterile hospital bed all the time. Of her being truly comfortable once again. He had never seen her truly happy and he wanted to put as many smiles on her face as he could. She had a positive emotional connection to that lake, so it was the logical choice of a destination.

However, he knew his friends would not be ok with him quitting his internship. He saw some understanding in their faces, but mostly confusion. Why would he sacrifice his career for girl who would most likely only have a few months left? Of course Arthur now had the perfect excuse to totally blow a gasket.

“Get. Up. We are taking this conversation outside. “

Arthur roughly pulled at Merlin's sleeve. The other man knew better than to resist. He was never Arthur's physical equal. Outside, the cold evening air hit his lungs much at the same time as Arthur's fist connected with his chin.

“Good. I hope that has helped to clear your mind.”

Merlin struggled to get up from the pavement, but didn’t look like he was willing to spare one second on thinking of helping him

“Arthur, what the ...”

“How can you let this girl destroy your career? The level of your stupidity is unbelievable. How can you let her do this to you?”

“Let her do what exactly?”

“She is dragging you away from everyone, your job, your family and your friends. You have not even bothered to call in ages.”

“Is that what this is about? Me not calling you? Me not doing the expected groveling in the dirt before you?”

“What are you talking about? Don´t be an idiot.”

Merlin and Arthur hadn't spoken since they had the clash about Arthur's own engagement to Sophia. Merlin had learned that it was now dissolved for some reason, but that didn't change that fact that he had begged Arthur to reconsider his intentions. Because something had been shady about Sophia, because Arthur had not loved her and because Merlin did damn well love Arthur and had loved him for years. Merlin hadn't said all of this and not in so many words, but the message had come across. Arthur had called him a complete tool, made fun of his emotions and left him standing in the middle of some upscale restaurant. Unpaid bill and all.

Usually when something like that happened Merlin would seek Arthur's forgiveness for his ‘apparent’ stupidity not soon after. He would talk Arthur into talking to him. Bake him his favorite muffins or something. But that's not what happened this time. This time he met Freya.

“Freya isn't destroying our friendship, Arthur. You have been a total prat the last time we met and you know it. You have only yourself to blame. And for the record, in spite of your horrible behavior I still want you to be my best man tomorrow.”

“What an honor.”

“It actually is. And my career is my business alone. I can still start a new internship next year or the year after that. It's not important. I never wanted to be a professor. I want to be a doctor. To take care of my patients. I can still do that when I come back.”

“But you can't go.”

“Why not?“

“Because you can't, ok? It's stupid! You don't even love that girl!”

“Yeah, maybe, I don't … but why should I stay?”

For a split second Arthur looked shocked, apparently he had expected denial and declarations of love for Freya. But although Freya was very, very dear to him, Merlin wasn't in love with her. Not yet in any case, maybe he would fall in love someday, there was a definite chance with Freya. But he wasn't now. Merlin knew about love, he had suffered enough from its gifts.

He had thrown himself repeatedly at Arthur, over and over, again and again. When Arthur wanted to go on a world tour with Morgause, when he wanted to elope against his father's will with Vivian, and now once more when he told him about his engagement to Sophia.

Just friends, Merlin, we are just friends. Arthur had said and that repeatedly like a mantra. And Merlin had believed him. So what was Arthur having this fit about? As his friend, shouldn't Arthur be happy for him?

“Why should I stay Arthur?”

Arthur was looking anywhere but directly at Merlin - at the pavement, the pub door, everywhere. But Merlin really wanted to hear his answer. For what reason should he stay? If Arthur wanted to tell him anything, this was the opportune moment.

“I have to go.”

And with that Arthur Pendragon vanished into the night.

The morning after

Everyone around him was going bonkers. It was really the only logical conclusion, if there ever was any. Morgana believing in romance, Lance and the mates celebrating a real life version of the “Corpse Bride”, Merlin happily marrying said Corpse Bride, it all made sense under that premise. And if the only sane person left – that was himself by the way – called the airheads out on their nutty ways, one got shouted at by the most docile person in the world.

Gwen had called him when he was still fast asleep in his bed. The ringing hadn't stopped until he’d picked up. Lance had told her, of course, he could never lie to his wife. Gwen had called Arthur an aggressive dollop head, called him blind. If Merlin attended his own wedding with a black and blue bruise on his chin, Arthur would never hear the end of it. And if Arthur wasn't attending the wedding, she wouldn't speak to him ever again. Nuts, totally utterly nuts, the lot of them. He could simply not go to this “wedding.”

Arthur took a sip of coffee and flipped restlessly through the pages of his newspaper. He knew he shouldn't have punched Merlin. Hitting Merlin was like kicking a cute defenseless puppy. Well, a puppy with rather huge ears, but nonetheless one shouldn't do something like that. It was cruel, inhuman.

But he hadn't known what else to do with Merlin proposing such madness. And it was madness.

When Arthur had arrived at the pub the night before he had still believed - despite of the growing evidence to the contrary - that this “marriage” was a big joke. Or one of Merlin's selfless, self-sacrificing charity stunts. Gullible, sweet Merlin. Anyways, it had to be something Merlin could be easily talked out of given the right arguments. Arthur had worked very hard on making himself believe his own reasoning; he could make Merlin see sense as well. There was no real love between Merlin and the girl, Merlin was gay. Morgana was just a great actress; she had been fooling Arthur with her tales of schmoopy romance. There was no romance. Period.

The girl must have tricked Merlin into this somehow, must have persuaded him, appealing to Merlin's stupid notion of “helping people” and “doing the right thing”. She also persuaded Merlin to not call Arthur for two months. Arthur had definitely not waited for Merlin to call after their fight over his engagement to Sophia. Delusional Merlin had made that up that last night. Clearly, Arthur had also not expected a call after he got the wedding invitation, although a call would have been nice. Arthur was a hard working man - he didn't think about Merlin 24/7. But Merlin would have called him under normal circumstances. Arthur knew that much for sure. Merlin always had, always would call Arthur in such situations. And Merlin hadn't called, so logically it was the girl's fault.

Essentially, Arthur had firmly believed that there wouldn't be a wedding the next day, or if there was it would be a ceremony devoid of any meaning. Afterwards, Merlin and Arthur would go back to being as they were before the appearance of that girl. Because Merlin didn't love her. He simply couldn't. But a honeymoon? Loch Lomond? Cuddling? That was something else. So Arthur had hit Merlin.

If Arthur wished he had done something different last night, it was this action alone. Nothing else. Because why should Merlin not leave? Simple. Because it was madness to leave in the first place. To go away. It was like not calling Arthur. Something Merlin wouldn't, couldn't do if he were in his right mind.

But then Merlin had asked this rather stupid other question. A typical Merlin question. 'Why should I stay?' he’d asked. What a stupid question. And Arthur hadn't known an answer. Not a sound one, anyways. Arthur's brain had shouted 'Because you can't leave!´. And his heart might have added a little 'me' at the end of the sentence. But that was not something a Pendragon could say. So Arthur had fled.

The ringing of his cell phone interrupted Arthur's musings.

“Hello?”

“I hope you're wearing your best suit. You are being picked up in 15 minutes.”

“Good morning father. And how are you doing?”

“Don't be so jovial. I'm not in the mood. We have to be in Ealdor at 11 o'clock sharp, so I suggest you get yourself presentable if you not already are.”

“For what if I may ask?”

“That stupid wedding, of course. I hope you haven't forgotten. You being the best man would imply a certain importance of your person.”

“Merlin's wedding? Why are you…I mean I don't understand why you would be interested in it.”

“Have you even bothered to learn the bride's name, Arthur? It's Freya McAllister. Sole heiress to McAllister Industries, one of our biggest business partners in the Scottish oil trade. That boy caught himself a goose that lays golden eggs. So hurry up.“

With this his father hung up. Arthur didn't want to go to the wedding. However he also knew his father. And if his father considered this wedding even remotely business relevant, he would drag Arthur there with force if necessary. Arthur didn't have time to think about the girl now having a name and money. It wasn't important. Not really. Money didn't hold any real relevance to Merlin. His friend had never cared for it.

But just the same Arthur would now attend the wedding. What was he to do? He would have to face Merlin. It was then that Arthur realized he might have one more chance to convince his friend to give up his stupid plan. It was daring but it might work. Arthur could pretend to be understanding of Merlin's motives, maybe even apologize for hitting him - because he really was sorry about that - and these actions in themselves would convince Merlin to hear him out, hear him out properly this time. Merlin would listen. His father used to say that you either enter a battlefield or you don't, but after you have entered it you have to fight. And after all Arthur was still right - this whole marriage plan was still an awful idea. And so he would fight.

On the plus side Gwen would probably not stop talking to him. On the other hand Arthur had no idea what he should actually say after what had transpired last night. Merlin would expect a good answer to his question. So, Arthur should better come up with a noble-prize winning answer. And that rather quickly.

When Arthur entered the black limo, he was met by his father's appraising gaze.

“Good, you managed to dress yourself appropriately. I began doubting my upbringing.”

“Don't you mean the nannies you hired to do that for you?”

Arthur couldn't help himself, he was in a foul mood. He still had no convincing answer to Merlin's question. Well, not anything he could speak out loud.

“Sit, Arthur. John?! I think we can leave for this Ealdor place now. And hurry, the sooner we get there the sooner this is over.”

Instead of ignoring his son throughout the ride – a habit Uther had picked up, when he had to take Arthur to school every morning – his father continued to look Arthur straight in the eyes. So after a few blessed seconds of silence, the inquisition started.

“So you didn't realize, did you? The business connection?”

“No I didn't.”

“So you were completely oblivious? Interesting. Your friend managed to win the jackpot and you are oblivious.”

“What do you mean?”

“The girl, of course. She comes with more than a few million pounds. And as I have learned he might soon be rid of her altogether. How very convenient.”

“Merlin would never do something like that. He could never be that cold-blooded and calculating.”

“Maybe you're right. Maybe he wouldn't. This Merlin has always been such a peculiar sort of idiot. “

“Don't call him that.”

“Why not? I remember you called him worse and that to his face.”

“Just don't. Ok? And just to be clear, Merlin might do this for stupid reasons, but never for monetary gain.”

His father looked at him with honest surprise. He wasn't used to the defensive tone in his son's voice. His words had apparently struck a nerve.

“If you say so. I just wanted to point out that I have been wrong about the boy before. So I could very well be now.”

“What are you referring to?”

“Well, when you started university I was kind of concerned about the boy and well, your relationship with him to be honest. He was always following you around like an adoring puppy, making goo-goo eyes at you, acting as if you were the King of England himself. If you had told him to jump off a cliff, he would have. And you, Arthur? You were feeding off of that adoration. I assumed the obvious.”

“Which was?”

“That you two were in love. I was afraid he was a gold digger. But I guess that assumption was wrong then and might be wrong now, because the boy has been glued to your side since that time without any gain for himself. Maybe he just is a naïve well-meaning…what did you call him? ah, yes…an idiot.”

“I.SAID.DON'T CALL HIM THAT!”

For a moment you could hear the tires moving on the asphalt. The passing cars. The driver humming to the music on the radio. Arthur knew his father had tried to antagonize him on purpose. It was his game. Arthur should never have gotten so angry, let himself be played like that. Even so he had let it happen.

“Strange how quickly you are to defend the boy's honor, when you were so lenient when it came to your past fiancé's. You never tried to defend her.”

Silence.

“Maybe I wrongly assumed who was in love with whom.”

Final confessions

Arthur opened the door and stormed out of the car as soon as the driver announced their arrival. His father would probably find some business associate to talk to or Morgana. He had other things to worry about, especially now that his father had managed to further mess up his emotions.
The stumpy little church was actually quite quaint for lack of a better word. A medieval brick church set in the British country side. It was romantic. Arthur was disappointed. He had hoped it would be overly decorated with silly ornaments or too pretentious or too modern. Gathered before its entrance Arthur spotted a few guests he knew –Gwaine, Lance and Gwen, Merlin's mother Hunith and his uncle Gaius, but no Merlin to be seen.

Arthur was heading for the group when he spotted two lonely figures slowly walking between the gravestones behind the church. As they stopped in their tracks not facing Arthur, he had seen enough to be sure. One was dressed in white; the other with a mob of black hair had been stumbling instead of walking. Merlin.

He changed direction, took a path towards the two instead. He heard Gwaine call after him, his father maybe too, but he didn't listen. The two figures were standing close. Too close. The girl was half leaning on Merlin, her head on his shoulder; they were standing there hand in hand. She should be more cautious, she would be crushing the bones of Merlin's hand, make him loose balance, make him fall over. But instead, Merlin turned towards her. Arthur was close enough to see the smile on Merlin's face, the warmth in his eyes.

He realized that he knew that particular look on his friend's face: Now that his father had reminded him, Arthur suddenly understood what he was seeing. Merlin's loving “goo-goo” eyes, as Uther had put it. Arthur had been on the receiving end of them too many times, so that he would usually brush them off when they made an appearance. Merlin was able to give his whole attention to just one person for a moment of time. To make that person the centre of his existence. To pour his love into one gaze. And when Arthur now saw how his friend looked upon that girl and when he so clearly knew that look was not destined for him, something cracked inside him. What if that marriage was not madness? What if Merlin chose not to listen to him? What if Merlin would never ever look at Arthur that way again?

Arthur was not very familiar with jealousy, it wasn't a common feeling for him. But what he felt now was the emotion in its purest form. There was also angst and panic to lose something, he had taken for granted for a long time. And also there were the strong stirrings of feelings far more tender, which might always have been there, but he resolutely chose to ignore so far. These feelings, the feelings his father suspected, might lie at the heart of the turmoil Arthur was experiencing at this moment when he looked at bride and groom.

Still transfixed Arthur stared on as the girl whispered something in Merlin's ear. Merlin turned and his gaze fell upon Arthur. Something went cold in Merlin's eyes. Arthur hated that look on his friend's face.

A kiss on her cheek. Some hushed words. The girl walked slowly towards the church, leaving Merlin and Arthur alone.

“Arthur, you have come. I'm…”

“You're not happy about it. Don't lie to me, I can see it in your face.”

“I won't lie. I've all the right reasons to be angry at you.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have punched you.”

“Good that you realize that. Your therapist will be proud. But you also shouldn't have left the way you did last night. Being left like that was far worse than your punch.”

Merlin turned, for all appearances ready to follow the girl's tracks.

“Don't do it.”

“Arthur, we have been there.“ Merlin sounded exasperated.

“We had this argument only last night, if you care to remember. And it ended with me getting punched and you making a run for it. I don't care for a reprise.”

When Merlin tried again to walk away Arthur stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“But it's different now. Now I can tell you why you shouldn't leave…why you should stay.”

That apparently got Merlin's attention. Was that hope in his eyes? Nervousness? Merlin bit his lower lip then and Arthur knew this was the moment, if there ever was one.

“You should stay. You should because, because you shouldn't go….because I might be falling in love with you, idiot.”

In a spur of a moment Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin's. He had never even considered kissing another man before. It was different sure, he felt the stubble on Merlin's chin, but then again it was also better. Merlin's lips were plush and soft, everything a partner's lips should be. Arthur put as much desperation and want into the kiss as he could. Gleefully he soon realized Merlin wasn't exactly resisting his advances. He was even starting to reciprocate. When they parted, Merlin's cheeks were reddened and his breathing had become ragged.

“Say you will stay. Say you will not marry her. I can't bear you going away. I can't bear loosing you. Stay.“

Merlin blinked a few times, but then fixed his gaze back on Arthur.

“Why now? Why on earth now, Arthur? I have loved you for so many years. Why now?

“The timing is off I know, Merlin. But haven't you heard me? I am falling in love with you. Isn't that what you wanted for all these years? Isn't this a good reason not to marry her?”

“Why do you think you are falling for me?”

“Sorry?”

“You heard me. Why do you think you are falling for me, Arthur?”

“Because you're always there. Always at my side. The way you love Merlin. It's wonderful. I now see that over the years you have always been there for me. When I wanted to elope with Vivian, the thing with Sophia. You never left me. The two months you didn't call were horrible.”

Merlin was silent after Arthur's declaration. When he spoke again, he sounded strangely sad.

“Arthur that sounds, …honestly that sounds like you are in love with me loving you. That you are in love with my presence, and not me as a person.”

“That's not…”

“Arthur, please. Think about it for a second, why is it that you realize on this day, my wedding day, that you might possibly be falling for me?”

“I…”

So maybe Arthur's reasons weren't entirely selfless. Him wanting to be Merlin's world again, his panic to lose Merlin, the jealousy. But did all love have to be noble?

“I have loved you all my life Arthur Pendragon. Well, at least it feels like it. And as you said I loved you through it all. When I go into that church and say 'I will', I won't stop loving you.”

“But I'm just starting to fall in love with you. This is unfair! You can't marry her.”

“And it wasn't unfair that I waited for god-knows-how-man- years for you? That I pined, that I suffered?! And that in silence as I might add, not once complaining about your endless row of female lovers. There is a girl waiting in that church for me, Arthur. She is a wonderful sweet person, whom I promised to marry. Isn't this between us unfair on her too?”

“Leave her out of it. She is just your excuse for leaving.”

“Is she? Or is she your excuse for finally confronting your feelings? You say you are falling in love with me now, less than five minutes before my wedding. But will you still be falling in love with me tomorrow or the day after that? What happens if Uther's Christmas party is coming up? What about Valentine's? Will you walk with me in the Gay Pride Parade next year?”

“Don't call me fickle. I know what I want!”

“Do you? Because I'm not so sure. Are you really ready to be with me? To love me for more than my presence and devotion? To come out to your father, to your colleagues? Arthur, I do love you. Your pratty ways, how you can throw things at me in the morning and be all knightly and righteous in the afternoon. But please, don't do that to me. Don't give me hope to have you, to be happy with you and then destroy it.”

Arthur hadn't considered their future. What would happen after Merlin did not marry the girl. He was wavering, unsure if he could provide what Merlin wanted. Could Arthur make Merlin happy? He was good at making sacrifices for the sake of his work, his father…never for lovers. He didn't want Merlin to leave, but did Arthur have the right to make Merlin stay after the man had endured years of unrequited love? After what Arthur had done to him? Maybe the girl could make Merlin happy. In the end Merlin mistook his silence for an answer.

“Be my best man.”

“You're cruel.”

“I'm sorry, but I can be selfish too and I want you there standing next to me.”

After a few moments of consideration Arthur gave in.

“It would be an honor.”

Being the best man

“Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony….”

It was so easy to zone out. Arthur's feelings were a mess. Had Merlin just rejected him? Had Arthur just rejected Merlin? In the face of what Arthur was starting to feel for Merlin, everything else had become a mess. Maybe this would be for the best. This marriage would save Merlin from another heartbreak from Arthur's hands. Arthur couldn't hurt him any longer, when he was in Scotland.

“Into this holy union Freya McAllister and Merlin Emrys now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace.”

Peace. He would never know peace. Not now. Merlin's face. So serene. So fixed on Freya. Did he even know Arthur was there still? Did he even care? Was this what torture felt like?
Arthur could shout, could scream, could make a scene. But that would surely not make Merlin happy.

The celebrant turned to the couple. Arthur was released. He paid his dues. He felt like the fact that he had managed not to say a word had just qualified him for sainthood.

“I require and charge you both, here in the presence of God, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God's Word, you do now confess it.”

The groom turned just slightly. A quick look over his own right shoulder to his best man. Their eyes met. Arthur's resolution faltered. If Merlin doubted, it might be ok. Ok, to grab his man and run away. In front of everyone, it would be ok, if Merlin did not truly wholeheartedly want this, if Merlin believed this would not truly bring him happiness. Arthur thought there was love in Merlin's eyes for a second. Love for him? Merlin's gaze returned to the celebrant.

“Freya will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

“Yes, I will."

“Merlin will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

“Yes, I will”

“Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?”

“We will.”

Arthur could not bring himself to join the congregation in saying these words. He was too busy with keeping himself from not falling down on his knees showing the world his misery. Merlin und Freya were now lawfully wedded husband and wife.

A dance

Arthur had to confess that he had simply tried to forget about the girl so far. Well, the bride he corrected himself. No, that was also not true anymore. He hadn't paid attention to Merlin's wife. He had done his best to ignore her, back in the cemetery, during the wedding and now at the party. She was simply nonexistent for him, interchangeable except for how her actions had wreaked havoc on Arthur's life and emotions. That was until he was approached by Hunith. She mercilessly hauled him away from his father and his business associates, where he had been successfully hiding himself and his misery for the last minutes. But with a quick reference to Arthur's “important” position, Arthur was unglued from the group.

“You gotta dance with Freya.”

“Who?”

“Freya, the bride, Arthur. You can't tell me you have forgotten her name after talking financial figures and profits with your father's friends.”

Hunith laughed nervously as if she wanted to say that Arthur could not possibly be so stupid as to forget the bride's name. She was right, Arthur guessed, a good best man wouldn't have. But considering the events of last night and a few hours ago, Arthur had probably proven himself to be the worst man imaginable for the job.

“Why should I dance with her?”

Hunith blushed lovely at that. Well, as lovely as a woman in her 40s probably could. The blush somehow reminded him of Merlin. The coloring, how it extended towards her neck.

“See, the thing is I always wanted to have …It's pretty ridiculous really for a grown woman and very American and all and Merlin will be embarrassed. Really embarrassed. But I don't care. I always wanted a mother-son dance, and I guess now is my only chance. And weddings are also for mothers, right?”

Arthur could just nod stupidly at that.

“But see, Freya doesn't have anyone. Like noone. I mean she has these people who manage her trust.“ Hunith was roughly pointing in the direction of his father and the business associates.

“But they are cold fish really. So you have to dance with her, while I can dance with Merlin. So she won't be alone and feel left out or anything or orphaned. I am horrible, aren't I? But anyways, no woman could say no if she was asked to dance by you, Arthur.”

These pleading eyes, the incomprehensible ramblings. So much like Merlin. Arthur couldn't say no.

So the first time Arthur looked at Freya in earnest was when he took her to the dance floor. The dress didn't suit her, she didn't fill it out in the right places and was nearly constantly in danger of tripping over it. The bright white made her even paler, although Mogana had obviously tried to distract people from noticing by putting wild flowers in Freya's hair. Her face was totally unremarkable, if one asked Arthur, maybe it had been pretty once before the illness. Only her brown eyes sparkled. So this was so much better than him?

The dance started and Arthur sought out Merlin's eyes involuntarily. He was beaming at his mother, his expression somewhere between happy and bashful. Hunith had chosen wisely, if one can embarrass one's child one must make the most of it. The Beatles with “In my life”.

But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one that compares with you.

And Arthur should have realized earlier in his life how gorgeous Merlin was when he was happy. How bright his eyes were.

“Ok, wow. So, I will allow you to send my husband love letters.”

“Sorry?”

Freya was so fragile in his arms when he led her along to the music. Nothing but skin and bones, so unreal, he had not expected her to speak.

“Love letters. No emails, mind you. They can be so easily deleted by pressing a button. Letters have to be burnt or shredded, so much more significance.”

Arthur should have asked her at that point what she was talking about. He should have refused to answer, called her a mad woman, denied everything about him, Merlin and the l-word. He should have scolded this girl for making presumptions, for meddling yet again.

“The cancer doesn't affect my eyes you know. I'm not blind.”

Then you shouldn't have married him, Arthur thought bitterly. You should have let me keep him, if you saw. Now Merlin could hide, would never think of Arthur again. But that wasn't what Arthur answered.

“I wouldn't know what to write.”

“Start with easy stuff, work your way up from there. Don't use to many “I's”. Use enough “You's”. And don't bash the wife, it's not very attractive.”

She smiled at him. And Arthur realized she looked at him with pity but not schadenfreude. It was how a mother would look upon lost child. When the song ended and Arthur brought Freya back to her chair, she said goodbye with a kiss on his cheek. And somehow Arthur didn't find this action revolting or distasteful, he was somehow grateful.

“I will make him read them sooner or later, I promise you. I love him but I know you could love him more. “

In times of dying

Loch Lomond was beautiful. The house was more of a cottage, set behind large trees, directly at the lakeshore. Freya told him how when she was a child, she was afraid of the huge waves on the lake in winter, afraid that they would swipe away the small house. But in summer the hue of the waters changed with the increased light and created the most perfect spot on earth for her and her family. Young Freya had spent hours at the lakeshore, watching the smallish and even waves during the summer months, enjoying the wind in her hair.

That had changed after her parents had died. She had never felt like visiting the lake again on her own. But now Freya and Merlin returned to the cottage for their honeymoon. Everything had been prepared. There was no dust from the years of non-use. The kitchen stocked with food, new furniture, even two large lounge-chairs on the little terrace overlooking the lake. Merlin knew by then that Freya's family had money. Freya's lawyers had him sign so many papers before and after the wedding, he had gotten dizzy. He was now her “health care proxy” able to make any medical decisions on her behalf when she was incapacitated. Under normal circumstances that was nothing special for a husband: but considering Freya's current state of health and the relatively short term they had been married…the lawyers decided to leave no legal loophole. As husband, he was also her only heir.

“Everything is prepared and in order. Events can go forward as the Almighty and you see fit.”

That's what the lawyer had said to them. Freya had only smiled knowingly.

On the day they arrived Merlin looked around the cottage for the first time, while Freya took a much needed nap on the couch due to exhaustion. Only then did he finally understand what the guy had meant: He found artificial respiratory equipment, a heart defibrillator and more pain meds than he had seen during his time in the cancer ward. A tiny note addressed to him notified him that the only other inhabitants of the island were Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, the gardener and his wife, who just happened to be a retired intensive care nurse. Really, everything had been prepared. And there was no doubt what for.

In order to not have to think about it Merlin went back to the living room. He laid down behind Freya on the sofa, closed his arms around her and hugged her tight. Thinking to himself ever and anon that it was not yet time.

“I will look after you, I promise.”

His eyes were full of tears, although he didn't shed them then. He had buried his nose deep into her hair when she finally answered in a whisper.

“Thank you.”

As it often is with grave illnesses – one gets better before one gets worse. Freya felt better in the coming weeks. Maybe because of the new pain meds or the stopping of chemotherapy, maybe because she was feeling like herself again for the first time in a long while. She smiled more, she bantered with Merlin. It was as if the nearly constant state of tiredness and physical exhaustion which Freya had gotten so used to in the last years nearly vanished. Sometimes after a tickle fight with Merlin her cheeks even flushed and took a light red color

They enjoyed these times and pretended to be like any other newly married couple on a honeymoon. They went to see Edinburgh castle and visited the museums in Glasgow. They even went to see Ben Nevis and had their first real fight when Freya insisted she could very well climb it and Merlin insisted she could not. He heard an old couple snicker as they passed them at a leisurely pace. The old woman leaned over to her husband and said something or other about young love.

And indeed some degree of affection came naturally between them: a kiss during a picnic on the lakeshore, holding hands while strolling through Merchant City in Glasgow, cuddles on the couch. Other aspects were never talked about.

Even without sex, Merlin had to admit, it still was the happiest and most loving relationship he'd ever been in. It might be sad, but due to his commitment and yearlong underlying love for Arthur he'd never had such a stable and solid relationship before. Always being ready to jump if his best friend as much as called had not endeared Merlin particularly to his past boyfriends.

It would be wrong to say that Merlin never thought of Arthur during that time. He didn't speak of him, so much was sure. Freya had looked like a princess on their wedding day and then Arthur had entered the scene like a hurricane. His words had left wounds. It would have been so easy to believe Arthur's words, to believe in that promise Merlin had so long hoped for. But wanting to believe wasn't believing. And falling in love wasn't loving.

The morning Merlin found the first letter on the kitchen counter, he was dumbstruck. He held it in his hands, recognizing Arthur's regal handwriting, turning it around again and again and not knowing what to do. Forsaking all others would surely mean not reading it?

“Hey, everything ok with you?”

Freya still had sleepy eyes and was in her PJs. She looked downright adorable.

“It's a letter from Arthur. And I don't know what to do with it.”

He had told her everything. Keeping secrets wouldn't serve any purpose. Hidden agendas didn't really fit into the relationship they shared.

“Mmh…what about reading it?”

“No. It will just hurt again.”

“Ok. Give it to me then. I'll keep it safe in case you change your mind.”

“What if I never do?”

“Then do me a favor. Read it anyways.“

She smiled that smile. Somehow after the hospital, when everything was forgotten at moments like these she was nearly playful.

“I don't….”

“Then read it after I'm…”

He didn't let her finish the sentence. Instead he enclosed her in his arms. He didn't want to hear about that. It was not yet time. Later he gave Freya Arthur's letter, and even later every other letter that arrived after the first.

Freya died on a warm summer day. She had cheated death for a longer time than any of her doctors had predicted. Still, their marriage hadn't even lasted six months. She had grown weaker over the last weeks, life slowly leaving her body after it had returned to her for a last grand show. Merlin had spotted the signs in her eyes, in the way she held herself. He never left her side, he barely slept.

When she grew even weaker and it became hard for her to open her eyes, Merlin carried her to the lakeshore and laid her down on one of the lounge chairs. He brought blankets and pillows so she wouldn't be cold.

“You remembered.”

One could hear the waves, there was wind in Freya's hair.

“You made me feel loved, Merlin. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She was so pale, so fragile. He pleaded with Freya not to go. He cried big unmanly tears and clutched their hands together. There wasn't much energy left in her limbs, and moments later there was none.

Ignoring all his medical training he still sat with her long after she was already gone. Finally Mrs. Wilson came and led him back inside and sat him down on his bed. His and Freya's bed. For reasons he later could not recall, he opened his bedside drawer and got his phone out.

He simply typed “she died” and sent the message to Arthur.

The days following Freya's death were a confusing mess. Merlin hadn't imagined there would be so much paperwork involved in dying on private property in Scotland or if one wanted to bury a person on private property in Scotland. Especially if one had to officially inherit said property first. He still didn't know how he had managed it all, except for that he was certain he hadn't managed anything personally, because that was what Arthur had done.

One moment Merlin had been sitting blissfully numb on the bed where Mrs. Wilson had put him, a second later Arthur had been there. The other man had bear-hugged him, no awkwardness in it at all, had babbled something about hijacking his company's helicopter and that Uther simply had to understand. When Merlin hadn't reacted to that, Arthur had said he was sorry. And then Merlin had cried. Like a baby in Arthur's arms he had cried and Arthur had let him.

After that Arthur took everything in hand. He guided Merlin through it all, the legal stuff as well as the organizing of the ceremony. Whenever there was a lawyer present or a too interested relative to handle Arthur was glued to his side and dealt with it for Merlin. And Merlin didn't mind a bit, didn't question it. So Arthur even commissioned the inscription for Freya's tombstone, when Merlin couldn't come up with anything coherent in his pain. Under her name and the dates it read

What will survive of us is love.

Back in London Arthur came to his flat every Wednesday and every Friday. Always uninvited, always bearing food, movies or other gifts. Always providing distraction. It was strange and unusual for Arthur, whose Fridays were normally spent partying at the best clubs in London and whose Wednesdays were typically set aside for working late in his office.

But that had been before. And as Merlin came back to himself a bit more and the daze of loss was lifted a little, if not dispelled wholly, he realized that this was new. Arthur did not usually do such things, had never done such things before.

All of his friends had been there for him and offered their support during the time after Freya's death. But Arthur’s help was so immediate, so unasked for and so constant and unchangeable, it hit a nerve. Merlin had thought they had not parted on the best of terms, even if he had managed to convince Arthur to be his best man. Arthur's pride was usually excessive, and to be rejected by Merlin should have resulted in him never talking to Merlin again. But this was new, the friendship and companionship Arthur offered was without condition. He had not even once mentioned the letters.

Other aspects of Merlin's life had also changed after the funeral of course. There were fewer worries over money and new responsibilities. The trust lawyers only consulted with Merlin if a pivotal decision was needed, the details were left for them to figure out. However, Merlin still dreaded these meetings, especially since Arthur, the CEO of a major partner company couldn't accompany him there.

The meeting this Wednesday had been over contract options. Should one enter into a privileged partnership with the Pendragons or another competitor? Or should one stay unattached to a single-competitor and aim to sell more to the Chinese? There were a lot of good arguments to consider, a lot of statistics an aspiring doctor like Merlin was not used to. However he was put off by the vibe he got from the lawyers. Apparently, it was pretty clear to them that a partnership with the Pendragons would be the thing Merlin would favor. Considering his personal connection to the CEO and everything. Merlin was fuming when he left the meeting room.

When Arthur came around this night, Merlin barely waited for him to put the pizza he had brought on the table.

“Is this about my money, Arthur?”

“What?”

“Is this about the money and the trust Freya left me? This whole thing…”

Merlin was gesturing manically around with his arms, trying to make Arthur understand. He had to know the truth; he had to know if Arthur was playing him yet again.

“Is your father pushing you at me?”

“No! I mean …Merlin what are you talking about?”

“I want to know Arthur, if this, all you have done for me, after Freya's death…was that you angling for the privileged partnership deal with Freya's company?”

Two pairs of blue eyes met and Merlin realized that his presumptions had shocked Arthur. He could read it in his friend's face. He could also see the hurt.

“No, I am not angling for a stupid company deal, I am angling for you, you idiot”

“What?”

“I know I have been dumb, I know I have been blind. I should have treasured your gifts more. I should have seen you for what you are and….Merlin, since that day, your wedding day, the day you left, I have been terribly, horribly alone. God, how I missed you. But that was all strangely ok, when I knew you were happy with Freya. As long as I knew you were happy, I could live with it. But as soon as I got your text I knew I had to be there for you, I had to be there to help you.”

“Arthur, I …”

“I love you Merlin. And I just want to be with you.”

There was so much earnestness in the way Arthur said this, that Merlin could never have doubted that his friend was sincere. Arthur had looked Merlin directly in his eyes and told him he loved him and Merlin believed it immediately. Arthur had put himself out there this time around without any armor, he had made his confession without making assumptions about Merlin's feelings. Merlin realized Arthur wasn't pushing him. There was no passionate kissing; there was no pleading with Merlin for him to do this or that. There was just Arthur. And Merlin was sorry that his own feelings had become cloudy and so messed up.

“Arthur, I…I'm not sure I can at the moment. I'm…Arthur, it's still too…maybe…if you can…but even then I …”

The hand on his shoulder again. Once eeriely possessive, now comforting. Arthur didn't squeeze, he rubbed Merlin's stiff muscles, urged him to relax.

“I know. It's ok. That's why we will be eating pizza now.”

Arthur led Merlin to the couch. Then he got the pizza and they ate while watching a movie. The subject was not brought up again by Arthur. There weren't any pressuring looks. Just Arthur enjoying their conversation, Arthur smiling at Merlin whenever he spoke.

And Arthur did keep coming to Merlin's flat after that day, although at first Merlin was afraid that he wouldn't. Every Wednesday and every Friday. And if Merlin read the letters Arthur had sent during his time in Scotland he didn't say so. Even when it were pretty good letters (with some notable exceptions), detailing what Arthur liked and adored about Merlin, how he imagined Merlin happy. It started out rather awkwardly in the first letter

Dear Merlin.

How are you? I am absolutely miserable. I miss you.

Arthur

And if that had been the only letter, Merlin would probably not have spoken to Arthur ever again. But as time progressed it seemed that absence actually did make the heart grow fonder and Arthur more eloquent.

Dear Merlin,

I remembered your red scarf today. Do you remember the one you always wore in college? You used to wear it all the time and I teased you relentlessly about it. But in fact I must say I liked you wearing red. It suited you and pronounced your cheekbones. Never mind, you used to pull it over half of your face, so only your enormous ears could be seen. You looked so adorable. It was cute how you were never quite sure how to put it on, if you had to bind a fashionable knot or something. It was so endearing. You lost the scarf during our last winter in college. I remember how you looked for it for nearly a week and how you called your mother, apologizing for losing her present. I called the janitor of our old dormitory today and later some other people. End of story: I'm holding your red scarf hostage now. Come and get it.

Arthur

There were many more letters that retold old stories, some of them far too late apologies for stuff Arthur had done sometime in the past and Merlin had already forgotten about. Not all the letters were beautifully written, not all of them were equally important. But the last one, well the last one, was something else.

Dear Merlin

I awoke last night from my sleep thinking you probably have forgotten me for good now, that you now consider me a thing of the past. Lately I am immersed in depressing thoughts like these.

But my worst mistake – and sure I have made many and am prone to commit many many more- was never telling you how I really feel about you. I know I told you I was falling in love with you on that day at the cemetery. I think I was wrong. I feel like I have been in love with you forever. All the times I have called you an idiot I should have told you 'I love you'. You deserve to be told every day and every hour of your life. And it's not just that I love the way you loved me, although how you love is so extraordinary. Your love is a gift and has to be treasured. But I also love my best friend Merlin, the one that makes a face after I throw a pillow at him and calls me out on my bullshit. The one that changed how I perceive and treat people. The one who smiles and raises his eyebrows when I act foolish or just do something to impress my father. You made me a better person. And even if I never see you again I hope you will be happy.

But my dearest hope is that one day you call me your friend again.

Arthur

Merlin kept all the letters neatly piled in a box in his bedside drawer; he only carried the last one with him at all times. They never talked about the letters, but Arthur never missed a Wednesday or a Friday; he never made excuses or was late.

One year later

Arthur and Merlin were standing together on the lakeshore, at the site where exactly one year ago Freya had been buried. Merlin missed her still, her laugh and strange insights. But he could also see that Freya would have loved this day, the wild flowers were blooming around the island and you could clearly see the hills and small mountains that surrounded the lake. Merlin could take a deep breath, thinking of her didn't result in him choking on the pain.

“We should go out sometime.”

“Yeah of course, what do you have in mind?”

Arthur looked at Merlin with a big smile on the face, obviously happy that Merlin was not too distressed. He had glanced at Merlin anxiously during the entire journey there, and Merlin knew Arthur was probably still worried about how he was holding up. So it was not unexpected he had missed Merlin's true intention.

“Like on a date, Arthur.”

“A date?”

And this time it sounded like Arthur was chocking. But Merlin put his hand in Arthur's and squeezed lightly with his eyes still locked on the waves and the grave before him. He didn't say anything more but kept Arthur's hand in his and started rubbing tiny circles with his thumb on the back of Arthur's hand. And a while later he got his answer.

“It would be an honor.”

Merlin Emrys got married twice during his lifetime. First to a brown haired girl, the second time to a boy with a golden mop of hair. Taking into account his sexual orientation and other things, people said he got married for the right reasons only once. Well, Merlin maintained that he got married for love both times, once to a princess and then to a prat. And without his first marriage his second would probably never have occurred. Both marriages were exceptionally happy till death did eventually part them.