Summary: Merlin ponders where his place is
Word Count: 335
Author's Notes: Thanks, issy5209 for the beta!
This was one of Merlin’s favourite places. Sitting on a fallen tree, he could look over all of Camelot and the citadel in the distance. This was the place he went when he needed some time to think. He made a small fire and conjured animals from the flames like he had done so many summers ago when he first arrived here. Back then he had been foolish enough to believe there was a chance for Arthur and him but now…
Merlin sighed and noticed that the creature he had conjured was the dragon from Arthur’s crest. Of course, everything he did always came back to the king and Merlin knew it would never be. His feeling weren’t returned, not even acknowledged, so what was he still doing in Camelot? Arthur ruled and magic was, if not allowed, at least tolerated and not outlawed anymore. He could leave and find all the magic users and teach them to use their abilities. That would be so much better than staying here, pining for Arthur while shining his boots.
Dark clouds moved in without Merlin even noticing. He stared into the flames of his little camp fire. If he left now, he might never come back, never see Arthur’s face again and he didn’t know if he could do that.
The first raindrops started falling but Merlin didn’t move. He needed to reach a decision and it was just water from the sky, right? By the time the rain had extinguished the fire, Merlin was wet to the bone. He didn’t care. His heart belonged to Camelot, but there was no place for him anymore.
Through the thunder, he didn’t hear the man approaching and startled when Arthur stood next to him.
“Merlin,” he called out softly.
Merlin looked up and noticed that Arthur wasn’t in his chainmail and armour, not even in his cloak. The white shirt clung to his strong chest and the rain had plastered Arthur’s hair flat on his head.
“Come home, Merlin.”