#went through a lot of torture and Percival brought him back to Camelot just in time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suescamander · 5 years

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Cost of the Crown

The stars are very beautiful, above the palace walls,

They shine with equal splendour, still above far humbler halls.

I watch them from my window, but their bright entrancing glow,

Reminds me of the freedom I gave up so long ago.

Arthur stood at the window of his chambers, staring up to the night sky, illuminated only by the bright glow of the stars.

He used to love the stars. When he was still the prince rather than king. But now... Now they made him feel melancholic. They reminded him of nights spend outside, watching the stars, not worrying about anything more than how to improve his fighting skills. They reminded him of moonlight kisses, of happy smiles, being happy in general. They reminded him of how it felt, not having to worry about everything, not having to mourn death and misery.

He still loved the stars, they were beautiful after all. If only they wouldn't bring memories crashing down, memories to compare with how he felt now. Memories who made him crave to turn back time, longing for that much easier life he had.

The Royal circlet of bright gold rests lightly on my brow,

I once thought only of the rights this circlet would endow.

But once I took the crown, to which I had been schooled and bred,

I found it heavy on the heart, though light upon the head.

There was a glimmer visible from his bedside table. Arthur practically felt the light pressure his crown usually put on his head. It wasn't heavy. Not this one at least, it was his daily one, not the big ceremonial crown. And even that one was manageable. Especially if one was used to it. And that he was.

That crown also reminded him of his earlier days. But, opposing to the familiar glow of the stars, his crown brought back memories of how foolish he had been. How arrogant. What a prat he had been, entitled by his, well, title as prince of Camelot. He was lucky, having found someone to show him his bratty behaviour. But still - he had looked forward to being crowned. Once again he wished for the ability to turn back time. To prepare his younger self for the pain that would shadow his coronation, the pain and loss that was about to come.

Although I am the head of state, in truth I am the least,

The true Queen knows her people fed, before she sits to feast.

The good Queen knows her people safe, before she takes her rest,

Thinks twice and thrice and yet again, before she makes request.

For they are all my children,all, that I swore to defend,

It is my duty to become both Queen and trusted friend.

And of my children high and low, from beggar to above,

The dearest are my Heralds, who return my care with love.

He always thought as king everything would go like he wanted it to. He thought he could do as he pleased. But he quickly had to learn that everything he did as king was for his people. He realized that his personal interests always came at last - hence why he waited so long to finally accept that his personal interests were the only thing that mattered in terms of his love life.

In hindsight he knew that he should have made the step earlier, for a happy king leads to a happy kingdom.

He glanced down at his left hand, catching sight of the shimmering silver decorating his finger. The slightest hint of a smile stole itself on his face, only to vanish a second later.

He got his happiness. Others didn't. He, as king, was supposed to ensure the safety of his people. He was supposed to make sure they were alright. It was more or less his job to enable all of them, no matter which social rank they hold, to live their life safely.

But most important to him were his knights. The people who stood with him. Who were his friends, his advisors. Who loved him.

The dearest are my Heralds, swift to spring to my command.

Who give me aid and fellowship, who always understand

That land and people first have needs that I may not deny.

So I must send my dearest friends to danger—and to die.

A friend, a love, a child—it matters not, I know indeed,

That I must sacrifice them all if there should be the need.

They know, and they forgive me—doing more than I require,

With willing minds and loving hearts go straight to grasp the fire.

His knights. His warriors, his insurance. The people who fought beside him, who died next to him. They understood the risks of being a knight. They understood that they might not return from one of the trips, but still came with him, still fought, still died. They understood that the well-being of Camelot was more important than a single life - or hundreds for that matter. His friends still stood beside him, and he might once have to send them to death. The dearest of his knights were the knights of the Round Table. The knights who went through so many dangers with him. And, oh lord, how many did he sent to ruin?

Lancelot. Sacrificed and later used to destroy Arthurs trust in Gwen, who he had been wanting to marry because she knew about him and his secrets. Arthur never wanted to cast her away. She was truly in love with Lance, but had been ready to cover as Arthurs wife. And because of that, her love was ripped away in the most cruel manner he could have imagined. He did not only lose Lancelot, the most loyal out of all of them, he also destroyed one of his dearest friends in the process because he wasn't brave enough to face his council about his love life.

Elyan. Another person dear to Gwen. Died trying to save his sister, who had been captured and tortured to hurt Arthur.

And at last - Gwaine and Percival. Gwaine - Merlins best friend, died because Morgana had tortured him to get go know their location. Died while trying to help Merlin save Arthur. Died believing he failed at it. And died, leaving Percival behind. They hadn't been official, though on the best way to it. Percival wasn't the same, still shocked, for it hadn't been a day since Gwaine passed away directly in front of him.

The worst part of it all, it had been Arthur who sent them, no, led them in the missions that cost them their lives or loved ones. It had been Arthur who had doomed them.

These tears that burn my eyes are all the tears the Queen can't shed,

The tears I weep in silence as I mourn my Heralds dead.

Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my cry—

And if you have compassion—let me send no more to die!

As Arthur stood there, gazing at the stars, re-living all the terrible things that happend to those close to him, tears welled up in his eyes. He spiralled into questions of what if? and tried to cope with everything, especially with the things happening the last days. A lot had happened - he almost died, hadn't it been for Merlin, he lost Gwaine and so many more in Camlann, and Arthur found himself doubting every single one of his decisions as king.

Could he have prevented Morgana from ripping the veil between the worlds to save Lance? Could he have protected Gwen from being kidnapped and tortured at the Black Tower? Could he have prevented Mordred from turning on him? Could he...

A quiet rustle shook him from his thoughts, followed by light tapping of bare feet on the cold stone floor. Arthur didn't turn around. "What are you doing out of bed? You need rest, you just survived being stabbed!" Arthur still didn't react. Arms went around his waist from behind, a chin came resting on his right shoulder. The king glanced down at the hands on his stomach, catching the sight of a thin silver band matching his. He still didn't say anything, but he put his hands on his spouse's, thankful of the constance he provided. His consort gave him a reassuring squeeze, and Arthur led out a sigh.

"It's just... It is my fault. Gwaine. Lance. Elyan. All the others." He finally failed to restrain the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes, and his love was there to steady him. "Shh... It's alright. It's not your fault, Arthur." The king turned around. "It is, Merlin, and you know it! They're dead because of me. It's my fault, my guilt to carry. I send so many good people to die. It's... it's the Cost of the Crown, I think." The sorcerer, his husband, raised his hands to wipe away the tears. "You don't have to carry that weight alone, Arthur. You can share it with me. Just like we do with everything else." Arthur nodded slightly, though still doubting himself. "And please, Arthur, it's not your fault they died. They died for what they believed would grow to be the greatest kingdom to ever exist. They died to make sure you could fulfill your destiny. You can mourn them, you can weep over them, it's alright and simply human, but Arthur, I'm begging you, don't let what happened destroy you." Arthur rested his forehead against his husband's. "You're right. I'll try."

"Good. And now you're coming back to bed and won't move out there until I say so, because I don't want you catching an illness and dying of it, I didn't drag you through the forest for nothing, dear." Arthur let out a small chuckle and let himself be pulled back to the bed and tucked into the sheets, Merlin climbing in and drawing him close.

"Thank you, Merlin. I love you. I always will." Merlin snuggled up further into his chest. "I love you too. And Arthur?" "Hmm?" "It's alright to mourn and grief. You don't need to hide it. We all miss them. But doubting everything you did won't bring them back. It'll only hurt you, and that's the exact opposite of what they would want. Take all the time you need to cope. You can share the weight with my, Arthur. After all, I didn't become Crown Consort for nothing, now, did I?" Arthur draw Merlin even closer after that, pressing a kiss into his husband's hair. "No, you didn't. And I am beyond thankful for that."

#Merthur #Cost of the Crown #canon era #married #angst #hurt/comfort #arthur pendragon #merlin #emrys #loss #established

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