Archive of Our Own ^beta

There are many new Merlin’s habit that puzzle Arthur. In the big one, there is the way he now clothes himself. Long gone is the man that would walk into the snow with barely a jacket on. The way he eats, from the food to the ‘fork’. The way he speaks, the way he walks. In the smaller one, there is the way he looks at him. Not with the sorrow Arthur would have expected from someone so old, nor with the hope that a prophesied king could bring.

A small, unmissable, openness flutter in his eyes instead, like a direct path to his heart. It’s there since the day he showed him his magic for the first time.

Yet, there are rare moments where that path closes off to everyone including him. When Merlin thinks himself to be alone, late at night with only the sound of the cracking fire and, sometime, the sleepy breathing of Arthur on the sofa to keep him company; he will pull out a strange metal coin of his pocket.

It’s a strange thing that Arthur only had ever seen underneath dim light and barely open eyelids. The first thing he noticed about it was how thin it’s, yet, it’s not sharp. Its oval form fits quite snuggly into Merlin’s palm, as if it had been made to be held by him. The dented edge welcomie in their embrace perfectly each fingers beside the littless one. Then there is the valley in its center, it’s as if it was mould to be caressed by his thumb. 

He slide it on it always in the same order. It starts at the crease. He follows its path, going so low into it that there must only be a fine, paper thin, metal barrier separating him from the air. The there is a slight bump, barely high enough to keep the whole thing from breaking in two. From there, he sometimes go back into the crease then down again. If he is about to bring it back into his pocket he will go completely south instead, where the metal seems to pour itself like water.

Arthur had seen that routine many times since he came back, yet, unlike any other new thing in this time, he had never dared to ask. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes, an unspoken way Merlin had always used to unconsciously tell Arthur to not wander too far.

He doesn’t even know what push him to ask now.

« What is it ? » his voice breaks in.

The fire crack and neither of them move. Arthur’s way too casual lying into the sofa and Merlin not even looking like he heard him could even fool them into believing no word had been spoken.

There is only one thing betraying the unmistakable change: Merlin unmoving thumb, snuggled into the deepest point. 

His eyes soften, « What do you think ? » when his mouth shape the last word, his thumb goes on its path. So much slower than before.

Arthur frown, his first answer nearly is ‘One of those modern strange thing’ but it doesn’t feel right. His second one nearly end up being ‘Something magical’, yet, it doesn’t fit either.

« Something…old » he says instead.

Merlin hums for only reply, asking him to continue or maybe just lost in thought.

« Something that reminds you of someone ? » his voice trails on, unsure of the ground he is approaching. He would not want to hurt him.

It seems to have been the right answer though, as a gentle smile rises upon his lips. « It does » his voice sound reverent, each words soaked with love. His face turns even so softer and when his eyes rise to met Arthur’s, sweeter than honey, there is no doubt in his heart that he loved them more than anything on this Earth.

« Will you tell me about them someday? » his own heart whisper, he opens his voice does not sound as sick with want as it does to his own ears.

Unexpectedly, this make Merlin chuckle. His head tilts to the side, he looks even fonder than before, which should be impossible (Or, at the very least, illegal). He expected many different things to come out of his mouth Maybe another time was one of them. « They were a down right idiot. » was not.

Merlin looks smug when he looks at him now, his lips barely holding the laugh bubbling up in his throat. Even the way he fidgets with his precious souvenir changed: he rolls it around using his two hands now, both of his thumbs dancing on the uneaven surface.

Arthur does the most adult thing he could do in this situation and throw the pillow he had been resting. At least Merlin has the grace to let himself be hit square in the face.

Arthur nearly regret to have done so as he watches Merlin face slowly morph back into a more melancholic expression once he removes it. He lets the pillow sit for a moment on his thighs, the metal spinning once again in his hands until he does the unthinkable and hold it toward Arthur.« There. »

« Merlin—»

« Take it. »

The silence stretched for a while, until Arthur finally seat up. He only take it from Merlin’s finger when he is sure to be perfectly securely sat. 

Just like he thought, the metal feels fragile into his hands. One wrong move away from breaking into two. He glances toward Merlin quickly before gently passing his index finger on the crease. Unlike what he suspected, the lowest point isn’t only paper thin. There is a small hole, like a pool, forming into it « How old is it ? » his finger passes over the bump, it’s not really a bump as much as it’s one of the rare part that did not sink near oblivion.

« Very. »

« Like this house ? » he passes his finger around the blunt edge as Merlin replies with a negative hums, his body bending towards Arthur’s and his face resting on one of his palm. 

Arthur passes his tongue over his lips, something bubble inside him « Old… like you » It sound like a question. It isn’t. His finger stop next to the center. Then, he slides it fully, comfortly, into his palm. 

And, like he did a thousand time before.

Billions less than Merlin.

He passes his thumb over her sigil.