Silent as the Grave

“Bet you want me to muck out your stables, don’t you?” Merlin’s voice barely even quivered as he waited for Arthur’s reply. The king was uncharacteristically silent and Merlin frowned in confusion. Normally, Arthur had a list of chores ten miles long waiting for him, especially when Merlin was the one who had brought the topic up in the first place.

“But I’m telling you, I did do them yesterday. I know you never believe me when I say that, but the horses are the ones who mess it all up again, not me, I swear. I know that you have no reason to trust me now, not after you found out that I was lying to you for so long. But please, Arthur. Trust me now, it’s really not my fault…”

For a few moments, Merlin continued to speak. But then the wind through his hair gently coaxed him to turn back around and face his monarch. His gaze stretched out across the lake and Merlin felt a sob catch in his throat.

Arthur wouldn’t answer him.

Arthur would never answer him again.

Yet the silence was even more mocking than any of the king’s scathing remarks had ever been. Merlin knew that he was never going to get used to the silence.

“…and then I’ll polish your boots, you always moan about that.”

He couldn’t get used to the silence.

He refused to.

Arthur was going to rise again, and until he did so, Merlin was going to make sure he filled those silence.