“Brought Peace at last.“

Then Merlin says he is willing to die for Arthur, who's "more important than anything."

merthur TEXT post pt 3 + morgwen sneak

all materials from pinterest

BBC Merlin (2008-2012)

Arthur,

They tell me you're looking for me.

Your knights have crossed villages I once saved, questioned people whose names you never learned, ridden roads I walked alone. Every rumour becomes another trail. Every shadow becomes another possibility.

I almost admire the effort.

Do you remember when we hunted together?

You always rode. I followed because someone had to notice the broken branches, the bent grass, the frightened birds taking flight. You looked for prey. I looked for signs.

You never understood that difference.

You think a hunt ends when the quarry is cornered.

Mine ended the day I realized Camelot had made me into something that could never go home.

I spent years teaching myself how to disappear. Every lie I told was another footprint erased. Every smile was another false trail. Every "yes, sire" was another layer between the man you knew and the one who survived.

Do you know what's funny?

You spent years wondering how I was always there before disaster struck.

Now you'll spend years wondering why you're always one step behind.

You'll search the forests first because you remember how much I loved them. You'll search Ealdor because you'll think grief drives a man home. You'll search the taverns because Gwaine always found me there. You'll search every place that meant something.

And every place that meant something stopped being home the day I left it.

You could search every kingdom from Albion to the sea.

You could question every druid, every dragonlord, every old woman who remembers my name.

You could fill the roads with red cloaks until the earth forgets the color of grass.

You still wouldn't find me.

Because you are hunting the boy who polished your armour, argued over your neckerchief, tripped over his own feet, and smiled every time you laughed.

He died long before I ever walked away.

The man writing this letter is merely what remained.

You can't hunt a man who no longer exists.

Merlin had made an enemy of the nighttime—or perhaps, more accurately, the nighttime had made an enemy of him.

He used to love the way the castle quieted to only the last murmuring embers in the grate, and the distant clatter of the dice the guards played on night duty; now, he longed for the bustle and chaos of morning. At least, during the day, he was often too busy scrubbing floors or polishing armour or fetching Arthur’s dinner to pay any mind to the thoughts that had been racketing around in his brain for the past few weeks.

With nothing to distract him now except for Arthur’s deep breathing, Gaius’s words echoed resoundingly in his head.

 He is the prince, Merlin. He has a responsibility to Camelot—to his people—to marry a princess and produce an heir. I know that you care greatly for him. But, well, might it be wise to put an end to your, er, dalliance? Before someone gets hurt?

Merlin rolled onto his back and stared sullenly up at the ceiling.

“You’re not sleeping,” Arthur mumbled into Merlin’s shoulder.

“Mm. Can’t.”

Arthur lifted his head a fraction, blinking sleepily at him. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Merlin said, and stroked a reassuring hand down Arthur’s back. “I’m fine.”