Rumors Fly

*.*.*.*.*

There was a rumor floating about the castle, whispered by maids and servants and cooks and knights and any and everyone else who was known to have wagging tongues, actually, eyes twinkling, tittering with the secret that they thought only the walls were privy to.

Merlin supposed he wasn't actually meant to hear this particular rumor. Because whenever he came about or down the hall, all talking and whispering would cease instantly until he was gone once again, and he wondered idly about it, what they were whispering about him, what he'd done to cause such stirrings and whisperings and hushed, almost guilty look aways like that.

He did not, however, wonder about it enough to confront anyone or hide around the corner or whathaveyou to find out about it—he did have more important things to attend to, after all, despite what Arthur liked to think and tease.

The whisperings continued for some time, naturally, and Merlin started paying less and less attention to them, grew used to them, actually. Between chores and errands and saving Arthur's life and having to hide his magic every turn of the way—well, he was much too busy to pay much mind to whispers and rumors.

Until, of course, one day when Merlin was in the armory, sharpening Arthur's sword. And all was going well—he was finished, actually, just putting it away and preparing to leave to fetch the clotpole's dinner for him…

When a knight entered—one of the newest to be knighted, actually. And Merlin liked him well enough, he supposed, though he hardly knew him, had never been properly introduced to him or anything of the sort, but he'd heard that he was a fine knight, skilled in battle, honorable, jovial, seemed decent enough, and Merlin was sure they would come to get along just as well as Merlin got on with the other knights, once he started going out with them on patrols and whathaveyou.

Merlin greeted him with a nod and a smile, which he was quick to return as they passed each other. However, rather than that be the end of it, the knight turned around, quickly began, "How long have you been working in the castle, exactly?"

Curious, Merlin stopped in his tracks, turned back to face the man and shrugged, "Long enough, I s'ppose."

Grinning in response at Merlin's answer, he asked, "Then perhaps you could answer me a question?"

"Sure."

"There's a rumour about, and I'm sure you've heard it, actually, but I was just wondering if it was true or not?"

"Well that depends," Merlin replied, "What's the rumor? There are a few of them, you know. Us servants get pretty bored sometimes; it's really not uncommon for someone to start a rumor just to stir up a good bit of entertainment every now and then."

"Right," The man nodded slowly, a confused sort of look on his face for half a moment before he continued, "The one about the Prince? Everyone is always saying that he's in love with his manservant, and I was just wondering if it's true. I've not actually met the servant yet, or see the Prince with him, so I haven't been able to see for myself if it's true, and I've been wondering on it for quite a while now."

Swallowing, Merlin felt his face flush at the other's words, the question echoing in his head, everything clicking into place now. So that was what—

The fact that the whole of the castle—his friends and Arthur's knights—no wonder they always—

Perhaps he would need to start paying just a bit more attention to the rumors going about the castle from now on.

"I, uhm," Merlin cleared his throat. "I don't think I can say, really. You'd have to ask Arthur yourself. Or, well, not, actually; he's really not big on things like feelings and all that, you know." He stuttered, excusing himself by muttering an excuse of needing to go get Arthur his dinner.

It wasn't until he got to the door and glanced back, saw the man's face pulled up in shock and surprise, that Merlin realized he'd just let on that he was the manservant in question.

*.*.*.*.*

With the true nature of that particular rumor sitting in the front of his mind, Merlin began to take notice of, well, everything, it seemed. The way Arthur's eyes came to rest on Merlin when he was doing the most menial of things, gaze soft and careful when he didn't think Merlin was paying attention; the way his fingers always lingered when he touched Merlin for whatever reason, the way his gaze always seemed to trail down to his lips, the way he always seemed to smile at Merlin in a way Merlin didn't think he ever really smiled at anyone else; the way he talked to Merlin—really talked to him sometimes—the way he let Merlin get away with what no other person of royalty would ever dare let their servant get away with, the way he just seemed… different around and with Merlin.

And it sent something fluttering in Merlin's own stomach, made him think about everything, the way his own pulse quickened when Arthur's fingers lingered and his own gaze often found Arthur's lips, the way he would do anything for Arthur, truly—destiny and dragons aside, Merlin wanted Arthur safe and well because he was Arthur…

With the rumor sitting in the front of his mind, with him wondering if Arthur loved him, Merlin was left to wonder if he himself loved Arthur in return…

The answer, he found was much, much too clear, and it really was a wonder that the rumor said nothing about him loving the Prince in return.

Then again, he supposed it was far more interesting for a Prince to love a servant than vice versa.

*.*.*.*.*

Of course, just because Merlin was in love with Arthur and everyone seemed to think that Arthur was in love with Merlin… well, what did it matter, really? Arthur would never admit his true feelings for Merlin, and Merlin could never admit his own feelings for the Prince in return. And that was really all there was to it. So the jubilation of finding how deep his feelings for Arthur ran was cut short and cut harshly by the realization that it truly did not matter.

And Merlin tried to leave the bitter taste that left him with out of his work, out of his attitude and the way he held himself and behaved as he went about his day, but it was… exceptionally hard some days, really, to look at Arthur and not feel a stabbing pain of sorrow and an intense want and bitterness that he could not have or even admit to wanting or loving.

He only became aware that it was spilling over into his actions despite his best efforts, when Arthur called his attention to it one day, cornered him in his chambers as Merlin was finishing up a few chores for the day.

"Come on, out with it," He said, crossing his arms in that stubborn way that Merlin knew all too well, that made the corners of his lips tug up as he looked from Arthur's bed and the meticulous way he was preparing it for Arthur to sleep.

"Out with what?"

"Whatever's been bothering you lately."

"And what makes you think—"

"Don't you think I know you better than that?" Arthur interrupted pointedly. "Don't you think I can tell when something's the matter? And something is definitely the matter, so why don't you just make things easier on both of us and just—"

"Are you in love with me?" Merlin interrupted, looking up from Arthur's bed with the question, the demand bubbling from his lips without thought or foresight of what could come of it. All he really knew was that… he needed to know. Nevermind the fact that it didn't matter if he was or not—because a prince could not be with a servant—because…

Because some part of him had clearly decided that he just needed to know if the rumors were true or not and damn whatever came of his curiosity.

Arthur blinked at Merlin in return, nonspeaking for a moment, mouth opening and then closing as he seemed to consider the question and Merlin, gaze as soft as Merlin had ever seen it before. Arthur lowered his arms then, flattened his lips into a straight line as he shook his head in wonder, "Who… how did you… why…"

"There are… rumors," Merlin began by way of explanation, slowly, shrugging as he let the sheets slip from his grasp. "And…" He shrugged again, turning fully to look at Arthur. "There are rumors."

Arthur nodded slowly in return, eyes falling from Merlin's before coming back up, a soft, wry sort of smile on his face. "Yes. I… yes. I am. In love with you."

"I…" Merlin began hastily, heart skipping a beat with Arthur's admission. "I know we can never… but… For what it's worth, I… am in love with you, too. I don't think there are any rumors about it, but… if there were, they would be true."

Arthur's whole face seemed to relax with Merlin's words, soft as the words themselves had been, and he took a step forward. "I'm not sure who spread those rumors that we could never be, but… it's not true. If you want me, Merlin…" He took another step closer, leaned in slowly until his face was right next to Merlin's, tone low and careful as he said, "I'll be yours."

Merlin smiled softly, closed the rest of the distance and kissed Arthur, arms coming up to encircle his neck as he felt Arthur's come up and around his waist, kissing him again and again and again.

If he wasn't otherwise preoccupied, Merlin was almost sure he would have been grateful for gossip and rumors in that moment.

*.*.*.*.*