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It had gone too far. Arthur had let himself fall too much. The longings and glances had turned it so much more than that. They didn't stay in the back of Arthur's head to only come out at night in the dark. The masquerade he had put on had crumbled, showing his real face.
His father had once told him to never let the masquerade be damaged, to never show your true face to anyone. Showing yourself at the mightiest, was more important.
Of course Arthur had questioned it, long time ago. He had been thrown into the dungeon and had not been let out until he was able to apologize to the King as the Prince. He had realized how important it was to stay true to the kingdom at all times.
He had questioned the dark nights where he had looked behind his masquerade already. On bright days, sitting in the sun or when he had gotten breakfast. It had been crumbling too much, to early on.
But now he couldn't suppress the thoughts. To wish to kiss those delecate fingers, those full lips at any given time. To let himself sink into those blue eyes of heaven.
He thought about it at the dinner table, at the round table, at his desk. He thought about it while riding a horse or wielding a sword.
He was forbidden to feel something. To act on the feelings he might wouldn't be able to surpress.
His father had told him to never act on weak mercy or whims he might held that day. As King, Arthur had to always be King and never be Arthur anymore.
He was just King Arthur now.
So he asked himself, how to get rid of it. He had tried every method he knew. He had tried to distract himself with young ladies, he had tried to distract himself with fighting, he had tried to distract himself with starting an unnecessary war, that would keep him occupied. Arthur had never stopped thinking about Merlin.
The way he woke him in the morning, the way he dressed him half-heardetly or the way he would run after him when he forgot to tell him something important for the day.
It hadn't worked either, for Arthur to get another servant. It had been even worse, because he had compared those new, different servants to his Merlin. Which had made him linger in the castle to might catch his Merlin in a corridor, and give in those desperate thoughts at more inappropriate times.
Arthur hated himself, when he couldn't be King. When he let his guard down to be alone with Merlin. To languish after his foolish man servant. To steal a kiss from those lips.
He hadn't allowed for it to happen at other places than his chambers. Only at night. He didn't know how Merlin looked when he kissed him or did other, unspeakable things to him. He couldn't look at him the same way.
The King wasn't King in those moments and Arthur knew that this was ludicrous and dangerous. He feared that one day he wouldn't be able to stop. That he would push away the Crown for his manservant.
Yet he yearned for this young man with his raven hair.
He knew that he had to set it to an end.
He was a better King than his Father. He didn't let people from his lands die because they had no food, he didn't judge people based on who raised them. He wouldn't judge anyone.
Regarding the war, it had given him more land. More kingdom to be proud of, that needed his care. A step closer to finally unite the island. Albion.
He felt like Arthur didn't exist. If he thought of himself as a child, he knew that he wasn't a good king. He was a powerful king, and mighty. Those traits that made a king good. Yet this Arthur wouldn't have liked it. He knew it. He had chosen to forget. He was a good king. He was the King of Camelot. King Arthur was enough.
The only thing he did wrong was Merlin. He couldn't live a life with Merlin. In those very, very dark nights, when he breathed in the smell from that raven coloured hair, he wished to not be King. He wished for a farm. To maybe have some animals and crops. That those things would be the only things he had to care for.
But those thoughts were intoxicating. Like magic, posoining his veins and stopping him from being an almighty king to his people. To devote himself fully to the role of their leader.
It wasn't night, when he finally made a decision. It would be the last act of Arthur. The last act of Arthur would be to kill Arthur. So that only the King remained. It was a pretty spring day. Flowers were blooming outside and birds were chirping. And Arthur had decided that the only method he hadn't tried yet, was to distance himself permanently from his Merlin. To never go back. To never have the possibility to go back. The only way he could achieve that, was with Merlin's death.
Arthur allowed himself one last night. It was dangerous, weak. Weak to return to his old self instead of ramming his sword through Merlin’s throat, first chance he'd get. But Arthur was foolish. The King didn't allow that to happen more. So he planned on catching himself at his weakest point to turn it to a strength. The strength to forget and finally ban those inappropriate thoughts. A man could lay with a man, but not love one. That feeling was childlike and insulting to a man his power and status. A king didn't love at all.
“May this be all my Lord?”, Merlin asked. He had his head low in a bow, he had hidden his grin in a masquerade of devotion. This wasn't real. The King knew that this wasn't real.
So Arthur nodded. He pulled the other man by his hand. His skin burned when he touched the other man. His skin was catching fire, yet Arthur held his hand. The candles had been blown out. The fire was burning on his skin, on Arthur's mind instead. The King didn't love.
Merlin nuzzled into Arthur's chest. Comfortably with all trust a servant had to give to his king. Arthur had done this. He had pulled the man in his bed to lay with him. To love him. To caress him. To kiss him.
“Are you alright Arthur?”, Merlins voice came from far, far away. It didn't quite reach Arthur. This was wrong. It was so wrong. The raven hair was spiking in his skin. The feathers poked holes that dared to bleed out any moment. Sharp and dangerous. And lovely.
Arthur wanted to close his eyes and focus on the warmth of Merlin’s skin. The hand that he still held.
“Mmh.” Would he kill? Could he actually kill him like this. Strike him in the back like an enemy? He wasn't his enemy. He was just messing with him. It wasn't his fault. He shouldn't misuse an honest man's trust. If Merlin wanted to love men, that was okay. But the King couldn't love, anyone not another man or woman. Neither himself.
“I think I'll go to bed early.” Foolishly he searched for the other man's lips. The dark was only dark enough to not see the nuances on his face but he could still make out his chin, and ears, and hair.
His father had always punished him when he had started something only to never finish it. It had been worse if Arthur were to not even try.
So he kissed his Merlin instead of killing him. For now. He wouldn't kill him in the dark with a sword. That was unhonorable. Not something a mighty and fair king would do.
His tongue slid into Merlins mouth. To for a last time, get the taste of the forbidden fruit. A king couldn't act so unmanly.
“Well then”, Merlin whispered against Arthur's lips. His hot breath covering Arthur's own crusty lips. He felt the blood running trough Merlins face and for a short second dared to press his skin against Merlins. Their foreheads touched. And the fire was warm, yet harming. He knew it harmed him. This couldn't cause any other thing than harm. “I shall leave now. The guards could get suspicious.”
Smoothly Merlin tapped a rhythm on Arthur's hand and then let go, with a short touch of their lips. Their last touch.
Arthur reached out for another.
“Are you certain you want to sleep now Arthur? We may have miscommunicated?” Arthur could only imagine Merlin’s eyebrows raising. Because he had never seen it actually happen. Had never allowed himself to see.
Arthur almost laughed. “Maybe…”
He kissed Merlin for another time. Kissed his lips, and his cheeks and his chin. He let go of Merlin too and Merlin grinned. He heard the grin. It came with an adorable sound. Like a dagger turning in Arthur's heart, filling the hole it poked itself.
He had to kill him. One way or another.
His finger tips caressed Merlins cheek. “Sleep well, love.”
“Not so sentimental dollophead.” Now he heard Merlin's grin as he spoke. “Good night Arthur.”
As the door closed. Arthur was gone. The King remained, and the King had a plan. He got up with a sigh and lit a candle by his desk. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the little mess they had made in his sheets. But he tried to keep his masquerade on. Set the crumbling pieces back together.
On a piece of parchment he wrote down his plan to have Merlin killed by tomorrow's sunset.
The execution included having Merlin thrown into the dungeon for some time, as well as finding a reason for doing so. The easiest reason to throw someone to the dungeon in Camelot was magic. But Merlin was the least person to have magic. Arthur had never met someone as clumsy and uncoordinated as his Merlin. Sadly no one would believe it either, of someone would accuse Merlin of owning magic.
So the King had to find another way to get Merlin into trial. It was easy once he had thought about it.
Much before sunrise he ordered Leon and Gwaine to go to the physicians chambers to arrest Merlin for treason. He didn't elaborate and reminded them coldly that the King wasn't to question.
They bowed backwards and promised to get Merlin into the throne room for the King to formulate the exact crime and sentence.
Nervously Arthur waited on his throne. He tried for no one to see the way he fiddled on his ring. The plan wasn't soundproof. But no one could dare to question the King anyways. He could've rammed his sword into Merlin and use as an excuse that he had tried to murder him. Although he wouldn't have to give an excuse.
Deep in Arthur's stomach, the fire was still burning, smoking and trying to roam freely. But the King sucked it down, and waited.
When Merlin was brought him, Arthur was shocked by the horror drawn onto his face. Terrified Merlin looked up to Arthur, thrown down onto his knees before him.
“Merlin, I, King Arthur of Camelot, accuse you of treason, betrayal of the kingdom and me the King.“
The King looked at Merlin’s eyes, glancing towards his, searching for Arthur's probably. “With this I shall sentence you to death.”
The hall kept quiet. It was that easy. It could have always been that easy.
“The execution will follow at sunrise.”
The King had gotten up, Arthur allowed himself only a small glance at those blue eyes, before sweeping out of the throne room. As he heard the doors closing, inside the throne room a chatter emerged.
People would have questions, Arthur would have no answers. No proof. No nothing. Just his word. But this would be enough. He was the King. This was right. Merlin had seduced him. Not with traditional magic, with the magic of him. That was to be punished. Erased from earth's surface.
He was a better king than his father. He would be the King of Albion. The best, only important one. His word would be law. Today he would break it one last time.
Over the span of the day, multiple people approached him. Gaius, Gwen, Leon and Gwaine were the most insisted. Arthur considered locking them in, just until sunset for them to cross trough his plans. Merlin’s death was important for the kingdom. The King couldn't be distracted any longer.
“My decision is set, leave”, he told them all.
A guard approached him after lunch informing him, that Merlin wanted to talk to him. Arthur managed to reject him. He wouldn't give in another time. He had already given in enough.
Sunset approached. Merlin was still in the dungeons, he had taken Arthur's heart down there. Now it was for Arthur to proof that all this had been foolish.
The gallow had been build up on the court for everyone to watch. His father had hung so many people here. This was Arthur's first. And last. A king didn't need to kill to display power. This was the only one. Only Merlin. No one would follow. Arthur would die with him. Nothing like this could ever happen again.
Arthur watched from the balcony. His fingers trembling. Merlin was still in chains, no motion on his face. Arthur would like to stroke away the tears.
Everyone held their breath. When Merlin was set up on the gallow, wearing his usual clothes. The neckerchief. Arthur had loved this neckerchief. He still did.
Arthur gave the signal. Almost didn't dare to watch. Merlin glanced up on him, a determined face, a man that was soon to be killed.
“Kill yourself Arthur”, he yelled. For everyone to hear. Then he was hung.
And Arthur did die with him.
But the King shed tears nonetheless.