for @merthurmicrofic prompt stars, 573 words
“It is strange,” Arthur admitted. They were lying on their backs, a thick, soft blanket beneath them, on a grassy hillside. The city was far behind them; miles and miles they’d gone in just an afternoon, into the setting sun as far from any settlement as Merlin’s roaring metal carriage could take them; and the sky stretched wide and cloudless up above, aglimmer with stars in the way water caught even the tiniest speck of light and reflected it a thousand times.
And it was darker, even here, even so, than it used to be.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. Or, rather, he more like choked it, a horrible noise like his throat was closing up. Arthur whipped his head around to see Merlin staring straight up, his every muscle locked in place like a body on a bier, his eyes, too, swimming with stars.
And Merlin said, “It’s the lights. The electric. They’re so bright, and even when there’s no clouds, the light bounces off water and dust in the air and makes a sort of cloud itself that we can’t see past. I—didn’t even notice, you know? When it was getting so bad, I—couldn’t stop it. So now it’s—ruined.”
“That’s enough,” Arthur said sternly. He rolled onto his side to face Merlin, propped up on one elbow. “What would you have done? Stopped the invention of electricity to preserve the night sky the way it was in the time of Camelot? Such a thing would be impossible, even for you, and even if it was possible, you wouldn’t.”
Merlin stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Arthur shifted closer. He would force Merlin to look at him if he had to. “To read your books long into the night; to speak to people instantly across incredible distances; to power all the magnificent inventions of these past centuries: tell me it isn’t worth it, and I’ll call you a liar.”
Shaking his head, Merlin started to tremble, a minute shivering Arthur never would have noticed if he hadn’t come so very close.
These centuries had, among their other miracles, offered Arthur an endless wealth of books through which he learned about the world and all that had been discovered in his absence. Within their pages he learned of the Sun, the Moon, the Earth, all between them and all beyond. He learned of the great knowledge which had been unfurling even in his own time in another part of the world, which he would never have reached in life: but now Merlin would take him. They would see the world together, in all its splendor. Arthur had been learning about atoms of late; with infinite time he would take the world by particulates. As king, he had been a big picture sort of man. Now, he was something else: transformed.
Arthur took Merlin’s hand, pried it from his side. He wove their fingers together, then he cupped Merlin’s cheek and turned it towards him.
“Merlin,” he said, as kindly as he could, “The sky would have changed anyway.”
For a few seconds, Merlin only stared at him, shock keeping all other feelings at bay. Then, he crumbled. A rippling breeze across still water broke into a storm; the smallest tremor broke into shaking shoulders, shaking hands, great wracking sobs that Arthur bore upon his shoulders.
Above them, the North Star twinkled on, at the crown of Ursa Major.
