Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was instinctual, really, how Merlin used his magic. Even when he was first learning to control it, it all came so naturally to him. Whenever Gaius accidentally bumped into the alchemy table, Merlin caught the tonics and vials before they shattered. If Guinevere seemed sad or put out when he passed her in the hall, Merlin didn’t even think as he revived all the flower vases lining her path. And when Arthur was in danger, Merlin’s only logical thought was protecting him. Of course, protecting Arthur was also an instinct, possibly even more deeply ingrained in Merlin’s head than his magic. So, when that idiotic assassin fired his bolt towards Arthur’s neck, who could blame Merlin for intercepting it?

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“Merlin, I can hear your stomach growling from here,” Arthur complained loudly from his horse. “Did you not eat this morning?”

“It’s not my fault, you prat,” quipped Merlin, who was riding next to him. “Gaius had the day off, and I didn’t want to make him get up because I’m not rude, and Cook never lets me take any pastries.”

“You poor thing, Merlin. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you take home a small spoil from today’s hunt.”

“You’re too kind, sire.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation, cabbage—”

“I said to shut up, you buffoon. I think I heard something off to the left.”

Merlin’s eyes immediately darted to the woods at their left, sending out tendrils of magic to see if he could sense an enemy. Not finding anything, he turned his attention to the right, just in time for his magic to latch onto a disturbance. He felt the air ripple before he saw the bolt fire, in slow motion, aimed directly at Arthur’s exposed throat.

If Merlin had had the time to think the situation through, he’d know that because Arthur was to his right, and looking left, only extreme subtlety would shield his magic from Arthur’s notice. Pushing Arthur out of the line of fire would be of no use, since the bolt had already been fired. There was not enough time. A nonverbal spell would deflect the bolt, but there was always the possibility of an already loaded hand crossbow, prepped in case of a miss. He’d have to be quick, and he wasn’t sure if this was the only attacker. If there were more, he’d have to locate them before they could fire a shot, which was a risky move. Even if Merlin could manage that much nonverbal magic without waving his arms about like a lunatic, Arthur would absolutely notice his golden, glowing eyes. Therefore, the most logical, risk free solution for Arthur was to throw up a shield, which would be more than obvious, even to someone as oblivious as Arthur seemed to be. The best way to protect Arthur was to reveal his magic. Was that worth it? This moral dilemma had kept Merlin up many nights in the past; he wasn’t ready to figure it out right in this moment!

Luckily for Arthur, Merlin didn’t have time to flesh out any of these thoughts, so his instinct took over. His instinct that, above all, he must protect Arthur. Merlin’s eyes flashed as he shouted a powerful shielding spell. Both the regular bolt and a smaller bolt bounced off the shield and were quickly followed by another pair of bolts from higher up in a tree. While maintaining the shield, Merlin growled out another attack that cleared both assassins from their perches, knocking them out.

Merlin tried to calm his breathing as he turned his gaze to Arthur, who was trying to decide if he should stare at Merlin or the spectral shield, but Merlin’s heart was beating too quickly. His vision was swimming, and he remembered too late that doing magic like this on an empty stomach was more than a little dumb. He reached out to steady himself on Arthur’s shoulder, grimacing when his king flinched. He did his best to look Arthur in the eyes to make sure his next words were heard.

“I’m going to pass out now.”

Chapter Text

Merlin awoke with a raging headache and a bad taste in his mouth. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed the late-afternoon sunlight filtering in through his open shutters. In a panic, Merlin attempted to leap out of bed, although it became more of a crash to the floor. How come Arthur hadn’t barged into his room complaining about lazy manservants and how starved the king was? Then Merlin remembered.

How was he in his own bedroom? Merlin couldn’t remember what happened right after saving Arthur. Once, he believed he’d woken up in Gaius’ chambers and felt calloused hands enveloping one of his, but Merlin had immediately passed out again, so that could’ve been a delusion. He needed to talk to Gaius.

Merlin could hear the physician tottering about in the main room, so Merlin silently crept down the stairs, only revealing himself when he was sure no one else was in the room.

“Gaius? What happened?”

“Merlin! You’re awake,” Gaius spun around to face the warlock, worry etched into his face. “How do you feel, my boy?”

“My head hurts, but otherwise I think I’m fine.”

“Good, good. Here, take this bowl of soup and sit yourself down. You’ve been unconscious for an entire day, Merlin.”

Merlin subconsciously took the bowl and sat down at the table. “What happened? How did I get back here?”

“From what Arthur told me, he led your horse back to Camelot and then carried you the rest of the way to me. He said you fainted after he killed a pair of assassins and demanded I figure out what was wrong with you. I told him it was a mixture of fright and exhaustion.”

Merlin took in a shaky breath. “He saw me do magic, Gaius. If he finds out you covered for me, you’ll be in trouble as well.”

“Merlin, if the king was planning on killing or banishing you, he wouldn’t have brought you to me first. He would have tossed you into the dungeons and sent me down there to help you, if he even wanted you to be helped at all.”

“I suppose you could have a point.”

“Of course I do, now since you’ve got the evening off, why don’t you deliver these vials for me?”

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Merlin started with the patients living in the lower town and worked his way back to the castle, as to make sure he didn’t bump into Arthur before the king retired for the evening. After the final sleep draught was delivered, Merlin stood in the hallway and tried to calm himself down. He would have to face Arthur eventually, so he might as well try to continue his usual duties and see what happens. Gaius was right: Arthur clearly didn’t want him dead or gone, because here Merlin was, still standing, and in Camelot. Merlin couldn’t figure out what Arthur was thinking or feeling without speaking with him. It had to be done.

As the last rays of sunlight shone through the tall hallway windows, Merlin made his way up to Arthur’s chambers. He knocked, once timidly, then twice a little louder.

“Come in!”

Merlin did his best to enter confidently, but the façade faltered as soon as Arthur turned around. The pair stared at each other awkwardly before Merlin cleared his throat. “I’m here to prepare you for bed, sire.”

After another brief pause, Arthur appeared to catch up. “You were half dead this morning; I think I’ll manage just fine for tonight.”

“If—if you’re sure, sire.”

“Quite.”

“A-alright then.” Merlin turned to leave. He could wait to talk to Arthur in the morning.

“Wait.”

Merlin spun around hopefully.

“Don’t worry about your morning duties tomorrow, either; you clearly need a lie-in.”

“Arthur—”

“Don’t call me that.”

The room was suddenly full of the thickest tension Merlin had ever felt. He focused all his willpower on opening his clenched throat so he could speak clearly. “Yes, my lord.”

“No, that’s worse.” Arthur wasn’t facing Merlin anymore. He had turned to stand next to the table, his knuckles white where they gripped the back of a chair.

“You want me to just not address you?”

Arthur waited a moment before giving a sharp nod, still facing away. Merlin knew that whatever...confrontation...was happening right now, he had already lost.

“We have to talk about this at some point.”

Arthur spun around so quickly that the chair toppled over with a loud crash. “We will not, Merlin!” His voice was loud and agitated. “This kingdom does not run on your terms! If I wish to talk, we will. Right now, it is my wish not to see you! Do I make myself clear?”

Merlin managed a small nod before he bolted from the room. He barely made it a quarter way down the hall before he collapsed against the wall in tears.

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The next day, Merlin, the stubborn bastard he is, made it his goal to cross Arthur’s path as much as possible. He would bring the knights water during training, help Gwen with the laundry when Arthur used that hallway, and take the same paths Arthur did when wandering the castle. None of his planning mattered, however, because Merlin didn’t manage to cross Arthur’s path once. By noon, Merlin realized the king clearly knew him too well and had changed his schedule and habits purely to avoid Merlin.

Later in the evening, right as Merlin was about to make the trek up to Arthur’s chambers again, a knight entered Gaius’ chambers, informing Merlin that he was to take off the next three days, as well. It was too much. Merlin needed to be smarter, because whatever it was he had tried to do was clearly not working.

The next day, in the late afternoon, Arthur entered his chambers to find Merlin sitting cross-legged in the middle of his floor, picking at his nails. Merlin spoke before Arthur could even form a thought to tell him to get the hell out.

“This has to happen, Arthur. We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Arthur slowly closed the door, then walked across the room to his dresser, giving the seated Merlin a wide berth. Merlin sighed quietly but didn't speak again. He remained seated in the middle of the floor, in the way and unable to be ignored. Arthur did his best to dress himself without Merlin's help, and then climbed into bed, facing away from Merlin.

After a few minutes of silence, "Go to bed, Merlin," came muttered from under the covers. Merlin stayed quiet. His stubbornness might be the only thing to get him through tonight.

An hour passed, and Merlin couldn't hear Arthur's breathing to know if he was asleep or not. Deciding to hell with it, Merlin started drawing faintly glowing lines on the floor to ease his boredom. Another quarter of an hour passed before Merlin heard rustling from the bed. Arthur had turned towards him, but his eyes still appeared shut. Merlin went back to doodling. He became so focused (somewhat hypnotized) by the lights that he didn't notice Arthur getting up and gently padding over until he had sat right in front of Merlin.

Merlin startled from the sudden appearance, but forced himself not to speak until Arthur did. So he just continued his doodle of a glowing dragon. 

"That's a spell?" Arthur's voice was a little croaky, as if he hadn't been aware he was about to speak.

"Um, not really. It's just way to practice focusing my magic." Merlin just barely managed not to trip up on that last word.

A few minutes passed in silence as Merlin drew and Arthur watched. When the dragon was complete, Merlin placed his hands back in his lap and waited, finally looking up at Arthur's face. "Magic can be beautiful, Arthur. It often is."

Arthur's eyes were alight with the glow of the drawings. Merlin tried to read his emotions, but all he could tell was that Arthur seemed to be thinking. He also seemed a little...amazed, maybe. Hopefully he was that rather than fearful. Those two sometimes looked similar on his face.

"Have you killed anyone?" The quiet, stiff question left a heavy silence.

"Have you?" Merlin asked, trying to prove his point. He needed this to go well, but his hands were shaking.

"Merlin, come on. It's not the same." Still stiff, but softer, more unsure.

"Why not? You've used a sword to kill in the same way I've used magic." Arthur looked like he was about to argue, so Merlin continued. "We also use them to protect. We've both saved so many lives, Arthur. Your sword and my magic are the greatest saviors of Camelot."

"How long have you studied magic?" Arthur's eyes had hardened, and Merlin could hear the unasked question, "How long have you kept this from me?"

"Since I was born. My magic is more instinctual than studied. It's like my body runs on magic. It's not something I'm willing to part with, nor do I think I even could." Merlin steeled his gaze incase Arthur tried to argue, but the king seemed thoughtful, not angry. Okay, progress.

Emboldened, Merlin reached out towards Arthur's hands. "Can I show you?"

Cautiously, Arthur extended his hands to meet Merlin's, who cupped his own around Arthur's. Merlin then leaned forward and whispered gewyrcan lif into their joined hands. He let Arthur open his palms, allowing a glowing butterfly to escape and flutter happily around their heads before exiting through the window. Merlin snuck a glance at Arthur's face, bright with awe. But, it quickly fell to scrunched brows and a down-turned mouth. Merlin was very confused. Hadn't it been going well? "What--"

"Why do you serve me, Merlin?" Arthur's face looked distraught. Moisture was gathering in his eyes. "I had thought, before, that maybe it was friendship, but you could be anything, Merlin!" He almost looked angry, now. "Why have you stayed with me?"

"It was friendship, dollop-head!" Merlin looked at his friend incredulously. "I use my magic to keep you alive and with me." He blushed a bit, not meaning for that last bit to be voiced.

The men held each other's gazes for a moment, but then Arthur's glazed over. His eyes then suddenly widened. "You've saved my life. Before a few days ago." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," exhaled Merlin. "More times than I can count."

"But, why? Camelot is so dangerous for someone like you! What the hell were you thinking? Why fight so hard to stay by my side?" Arthur still looked confused. Also, strangely, a little hopeful, possibly. Well. Everything else is out in the open, why not this, too?

"Because I love you."

Arthur sat very still. His expression was carefully placed on his face, trying to give nothing away. "You mean, as friends? As your king?" His face seemed to be experiencing every emotion all at once by this point.

Merlin felt strangely calm as he framed his king's face with his hands. "No, clot pole. Like this."

And he kissed him.

It was a very short, chaste kiss, but it seemed to have rendered Arthur immobile. His face was frozen in a mixture of fear and excitement. Merlin patted his cheek a few times to help reboot his systems, and Arthur blinked away the fear. Now, all that was left was barely-contained glee.

"Oh thank gods that's what you meant." Arthur chuckled awkwardly. 

Merlin grinned. "So are we okay now?"

"Yes, you idiot. Of course we're okay!"

The next morning, a servant found the king and his manservant curled together on the floor. They appeared to have fallen asleep mid discussion. The girl smiled to herself as she set down the breakfast tray: she'd just won so many bets.