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Chapter Text

After a hard training session with the knights and a big meal, Arthur was nearly falling asleep in his chair. He was seated at the writing desk in his bedchamber, going over harvest reports. The task was one he had been putting off, but once he began, he was lost in the soothing monotony of assessing grain stores and livestock distribution to the remote villages.

With a huge yawn, he looked up and realized suddenly that the last light of the day had faded and there was barely enough light to see the words on the page. Before he could say a word, Merlin was on his feet and lighting the sconces. Arthur watched him work, lighting the room inch by inch until it was bathed in a warm glow.

He set a candle on the desk last. Giving Arthur a half-smirk, he said, “Should I get you a pillow and blanket as well?”

“What are you still doing here?” Arthur said, too tired to come up with anything more scathing. Merlin grimaced and returned to his seat on the end of Arthur’s bed.

“Darning your clothes.” He said, holding up a worn red tunic and waving it in Arthur’s direction emphatically. “I’m amazed you have anything left to wear at the rate you tear through them.”

“The life of a daring hero,” Arthur said, haughtily.

Merlin snorted. Turning his eyes back to his work, he murmured, “The life of an arrogant ass.”

Arthur smiled despite himself and relaxed into the peaceful air that settled over them. He tried to turn his attention back to the official documents but whenever his mind drifted back down from space he found that he was watching the soothing motion of Merlin’s hands as he worked with needle and cloth.

He wasn’t particularly good at patching Arthur’s clothes, the stitches always crude and crooked. He wasn’t particularly good at any of his duties as manservant to the prince. He was a clumsy buffoon, mostly insolent, and always late. Arthur knew it was his right to have someone better to look after him. He could demand it and have the best servant in the castle in his service within the hour. But there was something about the way those hands moved over Arthur’s favorite tunic, the way he always seemed to know what Arthur needed without words. There was something about Merlin that he could never replace.

He was captivated by the sight of Merlin’s long fingers tangled in the fabric of his tunic. Merlin’s pale skin and the deep red, which in Camelot had become synonymous with the Pendragons. Merlin was perfectly suited to the color. It was a pleasant combination, one that Arthur found he couldn’t look away from.

Realization dawned on him suddenly in the way that he had always known just never acknowledged. Arthur liked Merlin in red. Never wanted to see him in any other color. Never wanted to see another person take his place at Arthur’s side.

It wasn’t shocking, mostly just unnerving, and Arthur stared at Merlin for an entirely different reason. For years he’d been fighting with his father over the right to marry someone of his own choosing, someone he really loved. There was a time when Arthur thought it just might be Guinevere but that had quickly faded and he attributed it to what it was: youthful infatuation. To find himself in love with Merlin of all people. How did that even happen? Merlin was just his stupid servant, the incompetent lackey who washed his dirty socks.

There was a line of noble ladies and princesses clamoring for the chance to marry him, all of them with more dignity and grace in their little fingers than Merlin would possess in his entire life.  

The embarrassment burning in Arthur’s cheeks started to ease as his eyes ran over the sharp planes of Merlin’s face. He had to admit, in the flickering candlelight, that Merlin wasn’t altogether unattractive. There was even something alluring about the way his lip was caught between his teeth in concentration. And he couldn’t be nearly as incompetent as Arthur liked to think if he was able to single-handedly manage the prince’s affairs. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, Arthur told himself, being in love with Merlin. That is until Merlin pricked his finger on the needle, gave a loud curse, and popped his sore finger into his mouth. He really was an idiot.

Merlin glanced up and froze when he caught Arthur staring. “What?” He asked around his finger.

“Nothing.” Arthur snapped, ducking behind his papers and hoping the room was dim enough to hide the Pendragon red in his cheeks.

Chapter Text

Arthur twisted his sword in his loose grip and took a halfhearted swing at the practice dummy. Behind him, he could hear the clash of metal as some of his other knights sparred. He would’ve been sparring himself if he had the attention for it. As it was, he was worried if he tried to take on a sentient opponent, they would cut him down before he even began.

It had been a week since Arthur made his discovery and nearly every waking minute had been spent trying to talk himself out of his feelings. But it was useless.

Whenever he would tell himself all the ways Merlin was not worthy of his affections, his traitorous brain would rally with all the ways Merlin was wise, kind, brave, and strong. If anything, it was making it harder not to love him. And trying to remind himself of all the reasons it could never be only lit a rebellious fire in him.

He’d even gone so far as to request a banquet so he could meet eligible ladies more appropriate for his position. His father had been thrilled, but Arthur quickly declared it a bust as he spent the whole night watching Merlin out of the corner of his eye make ridiculous faces behind the nobility’s back and chat brightly with Gwen.

Never one to give up, Arthur struggled with admitting there was nothing he could do to change his feelings. Surely there was something he had yet to try, something to quiet the thoughts that pestered him constantly since the floodgates opened. But he was at a complete loss as to what to do.

It wasn’t even affection, not in any way he’d ever experienced before. He didn’t want to just kiss Merlin’s hands and do anything to make him smile, Arthur wanted to argue with him, ride into battle with him, change the world for him.

The feeling was stronger than anything he’d ever felt before, and anything he would ever feel again. And if he was being brutally, bitterly honest with himself, he could admit that he didn’t want to change that. With the thought, Arthur’s arms dropped to his sides, all pretense of training forgotten.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” Lancelot asked, approaching him slowly. Arthur’s eyes snapped up to him from where they’d been buried in the dirt.

“Fine,” Arthur said, much too quickly for the casual air he was trying to pull off. “Lead the rest of today’s training. There’s something I need to do.”

He walked away before he could respond but he knew Lancelot too well to think he would argue with the order. He didn’t stop, didn’t allow room in his thoughts for any doubt, until he was in the council chambers.

Uther sat at the head of the long table, flanked by two advisors. He ended the conversation when his son entered the room, dismissing his councilmen at the sight of the wild brightness in Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur appreciated the privacy and his father’s recognition of his need for it, but now that he was alone with him, he almost lost his nerve. “Good Morning, father.” He said, lamely.

“What is it?” He didn’t seem angry, and for that Arthur was grateful. He would need his father in the best mood of his life to even entertain Arthur’s idea.

He took a moment to stall, deliberating between a seat beside his father or further down the table. Eventually, he decided to stand at the end, so he could look him directly in the eye but keep the long stretch of table between them as a buffer. “I came to ask your permission to court a potential spouse.”

Keeping it intentionally vague, Arthur wanted to warm his father to the idea of his marrying someone with absolutely no political advantage before he devastated him further by admitting it was a man.

“So you found a lady at the banquet.” The grin that spread across Uther’s face was bright and rare, one that Arthur cherished and dreaded wiping away with the truth.

“No.” Arthur drew it out as long as he could. “A servant.”

“Arthur.” Uther scolded, his face clouding over.

“Before you say no, I remind you that Lancelot was born a commoner but you let him return to Camelot as a knight because he earned a reputation as one of the greatest swordsmen in the five kingdoms.”

“You wish to marry Lancelot?” Uther asked, confusion quickly surpassing his anger.

“No.” Arthur waved his hand to dismiss the idea and get his thoughts back on track. “My point is that someone not born of nobility can still achieve greatness.”

Uther nodded, conceding but still he argued, “Lancelot was a fighter. What would a commoner know of being queen?”

“Nothing he couldn’t learn,” Arthur said, so distracted by fighting back his laughter at the thought of Merlin being addressed as the queen that he didn’t notice his father’s features darken.

“You wish me to allow a commoner to take the throne? Not just a commoner, a servant who would see the end of the Pendragon line?”

“The Pendragon line would live on through Morgana. Her children could be my heirs and the family name would prosper.” It hadn’t occurred to Arthur just how much he’d really thought about a future with Merlin until then. He’d marched into the room with seemingly no answers but it appeared he’d spent more time coming up with ways it could work instead of trying to dispel his feelings.  

“And the matter of political negotiation? We’d be throwing away one of Camelot’s greatest bargaining chips by wasting your marriage on someone unimportant.”

Arthur’s anger flared. “I’m to be the king someday. I should be held in higher regard than that of a simple pawn. It would not be a waste to ensure I marry for love and not obligation. I can not be a good king to my people if I am miserable.” His father’s blank face reminded him who he was addressing, and he turned his argument toward logic. “And anyone who trusts Camelot enough to marry their daughter to its prince trusts us enough to be won over by a simple treaty.”

He could see his father acknowledge his point, but there was still stubborn refusal in the set of his jaw. He was going to say no because no matter how much logic Arthur presented him with, Uther had made up his mind on the matter before Arthur was even born.

Arthur straightened, and looked his father in the eye, unwavering. He had one last appeal. One last chance, but he didn’t know if it would be enough. “Please, father. Please allow me the chance to have at least a fraction of the happiness that you had with my mother.”

His words had an instant effect on Uther. The man closed off, all traces of anger and denial were wiped away until he was nothing but stone.

When Arthur was sure he’d ruined any chance of his father acquiescing, he said, voice quiet and laced with buried grief. “Very well.”

After excusing himself from the room with gratitude pouring from his lips, Arthur nearly raced to his chambers. He was beaming, on the verge of bursting from his excitement as he crashed into his own bedchamber to find Merlin putting his freshly laundered clothes in the wardrobe. He nearly shouted through his massive grin that Uther had given them permission to marry before he remembered that he was desperately in love with Merlin and Merlin had no idea.

“You’re early,” Merlin said, voice nearly an accusation.

“Um, yes,” Arthur said, closing the door awkwardly behind him.

Merlin’s brow furrowed as they both realized Arthur missed a tragically easy chance to insult him. Arthur’s eyes went wide, so unsure of himself. Suddenly the idea that his love for Merlin could be more than theoretical had him at a loss for what to do.

“And you’re an idiot.” He said, trying to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. Merlin’s furrow deepened, but he stepped forward anyway.

Both hands on the strap of Arthur’s hauberk, Merlin studied his face. “Why are you being so strange?”

Arthur kicked himself internally. He could feel the effects of Merlin’s proximity and his intense gaze immediately. The sweeping rush of warmth under his skin as his heart sped up. And it was never more apparent to Arthur than it was in that moment that Merlin was completely indifferent as he worked the buckle open on Arthur’s armor.

“Actually, I’m not done with training.” Arthur stepped away and refastened the strap as he went.

“Then why did you come up here?” There was a smile on the edge of Merlin’s lips even through his confusion, a small expression of the fond exasperation Arthur could hear in his tone. It lifted Arthur’s spirit a bit to know Merlin wasn’t totally indifferent.

“I came for…my sword.”

“You took it with you when you left.”

“I did. Didn’t I?” Arthur grimaced and bolted for the corridor. On the other side of the door, he heard Merlin bark a single laugh before he was out of earshot.

He returned to the training grounds, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan at how awfully that had gone. He was a prince who could charm warlords and ladies alike but as soon as he was alone with Merlin he turned into a blubbering idiot. An issue that needed to be rectified immediately if he was going to preserve any of his dignity.

Chapter Text

Arthur had never been one to fall in love easily. He wasn’t like Gwaine who loved anything with lips, or like Morgana who’d had a crush on just about every one of his father’s knights when she was younger. He’d always been too focused on his duties or impressing his stupid friends, morons he’d long since abandoned in favor of men who actually had some honor. He didn’t know much about courtship and what he did know went out the window when it came to Merlin.

He didn’t yet know how he would manage it but he knew he had to gain Merlin’s affections or these unrequited feelings would ruin the friendship he knew they both treasured. Now that his attempts at extinguishing his own feelings had failed, Arthur knew it was the only course of action left to keep his own awkwardness from pushing him away. And he was Arthur Pendragon, greatest warrior in all of Camelot and second to none. Whatever he came up with, Merlin wouldn’t even know what hit him.

Returning to the training grounds, Arthur found most of the other knights had gone. Only a few remained and he was glad to find it was the few he trusted above all others. It occurred to him as he came to stand beside Lancelot to watch Gwaine and Percival spar that maybe his best course of action was to trust the wisdom of experience.

“How did you woo Guinevere?”

“My lord?” Lancelot asked. Arthur could see the surprise and tinge of concern in his eyes. It wasn’t long ago that they had both been vying for the affection of said woman and Lancelot must be worried Arthur held a grudge against him for it.

“I don’t mean anything by that. I just…” Arthur cringed at what he would need to reveal in order to get the information he sought. It was more than a little embarrassing to admit he wasn’t sure how to woo anyone, but he reminded himself that even kings need advisors and continued, “meant how would you go about wooing someone?”

The fight in front of them came to a sudden halt and Arthur knew he should’ve had this conversation in private. Gwaine was eyeing him with a smug and excited gleam. “What’s the matter, princess? Finally met a woman who could resist your charms.”

“It’s not that, Gwaine.” Arthur ground out. His whole mind rebelled against the admission of any kind of weakness. Merlin is worth it, he reminded himself. “I’m in love.”

“Oh, that so sweet Princess.” Gwaine barely managed to say through his laughter.

“Keep it up. We’ll see if you’re still laughing after training tomorrow.” Arthur glowered. He turned his scowl to Percival, a challenge in his eyes. Percival just raised his brows innocently, seeming more amused by Gwaine being chastised than Arthur’s embarrassment.

“Who is it?” Lancelot’s question was innocent enough, but Arthur stayed silent. He might’ve answered if it had been just the two of them, but he could trust Gwaine’s big mouth enough to not tell Merlin so he said nothing.  

“Oh come on,” Gwaine whined. Percival elbowed him in the ribs and he pouted. “You are absolutely no fun.”

“We can respect your privacy, Arthur.” Lancelot shot Gwaine a pointed look. Gwaine threw up both hands with an exasperated sigh. “But why the secrecy? Your father hasn’t forbidden it has he?”

“No,” Arthur said, his shock leaking into his tone. “He’s given his blessing or as close as I’ll get to it. That’s why this is so important. Beyond all odds, I’ve found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with and there’s nothing standing in my way but the fact that they don’t love me yet.”

“That is sweet. No, don’t look at me like that. I’m serious.” Gwaine said before Percy could elbow him again. “Why haven’t you gone for it yet?”

“We’ve been friends for so long, I need to do this right. I’m just not sure where to start. A declaration of love is too much to spring on him out of nowhere.” Arthur worried he’d given away too much but Gwaine just smiled.

“You have to show him your virility. Demonstrate your prowess as a man.” Gwaine said, ignoring Percival beside him who snorted his laughter. “Show him your strength and your rippling muscles and he won’t be able to resist you.”

Arthur glanced between Gwaine and Percival who seemed to be sharing a private joke and he could only hope it wasn’t at his own expense. “I told you. It’s not about sex.” It was about so much more than that. The life they could build together, the future.

“So you don’t want to have sex with him?”

Arthur thought about pale fingers tangled in his tunic and coughed. “Well, yes.”

“Then make him want you and he’ll realize he loved you all along.”

Studying Gwaine’s face, Arthur searched for the indication of how much he knew. He already suspected Gwaine had a pretty good idea of who the object of his affection was, but didn’t want to confirm anything by pestering him for information. Still, even the hint that Gwaine might know that Merlin might have feelings for Arthur was enough to make his heart beat faster.    

“You can not win someone’s heart by winning a duel,” Lancelot said. He was right. Arthur had to admit it wasn’t the best strategy.

“Then what would you do?”

“You have to get to know them and let them know you, completely unguarded. When I was courting Gwen,” Lancelot paused, watching Arthur closely for a moment. When he saw Arthur was unaffected, he went on, “we spent hours talking as we walked the castle grounds or watched the sunset. She says that she knew she loved me when I told her about how I lost my family. And when we made love for the first time on the night of our wedding, it was the most intimate experience of my life. We knew everything about each other, every dream, every fear so there was nothing standing between us.”

Arthur ignored the brief apologetic look Lancelot gave him and focused instead on his words and how they made his chest ache. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted with Merlin, he could never imagine the two of them watching the sunset together, but he wanted to be that close to him. It wouldn’t be difficult. Merlin already knew him better than anyone else in the world.

Gwaine crossed his arms and huffed, “I still think my idea is better.”

Chapter Text

As dubious as Gwaine’s advice was, it was the best Arthur had to go on at the moment. Arthur tried to take Lancelot's advice. He really had. Lancelot was the only one of them all that had actually managed to successfully woo and marry a woman. So, Arthur had tried, but one earnest look from Arthur had Merlin checking for a fever. Arthur was too embarrassed to attempt the tactic of sincere emotional vulnerability again.

Instead, he dragged Merlin away from his duties down to the practice field to spectate as he trained the knights.

"Am I being punished for something?" Merlin asked. The edge of a whine in his voice made Arthur push a little harder than he'd intended when he shoved Merlin onto the bench at the edge of the field.

"You're the manservant to the prince and, as such, your duty to attend to me."

"And what? Watch as you show off?" Merlin rolled his eyes because, of course, he saw right through Arthur. He always did.

Arthur stormed away before he was forced to find words to defend himself.

It was a good strategy. Arthur had to admit even though it pained him to say Gwaine was responsible for a good idea. Arthur was in top form, undefeated, and, surely, Merlin had to be bursting with pride and admiration at the sight.

When Arthur glanced back at the benches, just to make sure, his smile dropped. Merlin and Gwen were hunched together, giggling over something probably insipid and not paying an ounce of attention to the strapping men before them.

Arthur stormed over and yanked Merlin to his feet. "Having fun?"

"Yeah, actually." Merlin spared Gwen a smile before turning his confusion back on Arthur.

"Well maybe if you're not going to pay attention over here, then you'll be able to keep your focus on the field. As a target." Arthur knew he would regret it later, but it felt too good to stop at the moment. He dragged Merlin, trusses up in bulky armor, toward the center of the field and enjoyed watching his men knock him around for a little while.
It wasn't until he saw Gwen and Lancelot sharing concerned whispers that he realized how royally he'd screwed up. He'd completely lost sight of his goal of impressing Merlin in favor of torturing him.

He called an end to the training and sent everyone, Merlin included, to clean up and pack for a hunt.

The hunting trip was a last resort. He knew that Merlin hadn’t had pleasant experiences in the past with these sorts of things, but he figured if it were just the two of them and Arthur didn’t kill anything too cute, Merlin might actually be impressed. He wasn’t.

Arthur had his sights set on a doe. Strong and graceful, with a glowing tawny fur that would make a beautiful hide to present to Merlin as a token of his affection. Then he saw Merlin smiling at it, wide and guileless, and Arthur knew he would never be able to kill it without risking Merlin's tears.

Arthur turned away and almost stumbled to keep from crushing the delicate flower beneath his boot. A beautiful white bud amongst the thistle and weeds. It reminded him of Merlin. Tenacious, thriving where it shouldn't. Exposing its beauty almost defiantly.
Arthur plucked and offered it to Merlin before he could talk himself out of it.

Merlin turned away from the retreating doe and his gentle smile dropped. He yanked the flower from Arthur's hand and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Very funny. I'm a girl." Merlin shouldered past Arthur who was too shocked to argue. "I'm sorry I don't enjoy murdering little woodland creatures. We can't all be big strapping heroes who…"

Merlin kept ranting as he stomped away, picking through the underbrush and avoiding low branches.

Arthur almost gave the whole thing up as a lost cause. Merlin was too thickheaded to ever catch on to Arthur's true intentions. He was just wasting his time.
But just as he was about to call off the fruitless hunt, a wild boar came charging at them. Ugly and vicious, stinking and dangerous. There was no way Merlin could weep for the death of this unappealing creature.

Arthur slaughtered it easily, and when they returned to Camelot, he commissioned its head on a mount in secret. It would make the perfect gift. A reminder of Arthur's triumph, tangible proof of his strength and protection. Merlin would never be able to forget that Arthur was a mighty warrior. What better demonstration of his virility?

Merlin was helping Gaius prepare tinctures in his chambers when Arthur cornered him to present his gift.

"Thanks?" Merlin muttered. He held the board by the very edges with careful fingers and eyed the boar's head mounted upon it skeptically. Merlin didn't take his wary eyes off the boar. He had to hold the edge of the board against his leg to support its great weight. "It's just so…"

Arthur waited with bated breath for the words to come. Surely now Merlin would be able to appreciate everything Arthur was trying to give to him. "Wonderful? Glorious?"

"Creepy."

"Merlin! Don't be rude." Gaius chastised lowly. "A gift from the prince is a great honor."

"But it won't stop looking at me," Merlin whined.

Arthur stormed off, yanking the door closed behind him with a slam that echoed through the corridor.

Chapter Text

Arthur hesitated in the doorway to Merlin's chamber, the hide of his gloves at his fingertips scraping over the rough wood of the door. He had planned to burst in, wake Merlin with a start and watch him sputter like an idiot. Gaius even had a mischievous little smile curling on his lips as he watched Arthur from where he sat at his workbench, almost daring him to do it. But when Arthur pushed Merlin's door open that first inch, flimsy latch doing nothing to keep him out, he caught sight of Merlin's sleeping form and forgot everything else.

Merlin was pale in the dark, like a sliver of moonlight splashed across the tangled bedclothes. He looked impossibly delicate as he slept, in a way Arthur had never seen before. Merlin had a way of taking up space, his thoughts and opinions loud even when he didn't speak at all, and he weathered Arthur's playful torture and his harsh moods like no one else had ever managed before. He was impervious, an unshakable fortress of optimism and good humor. Arthur had never once looked at Merlin and seen the fragility in his narrow wrists or soft pouted lips.

Arthur had always known Merlin was strong enough to weather any storm, but for the first time, Arthur wanted to shelter him. The raw protective instinct crashed through him like a wave, almost painful in its intensity. He needed to protect this boy. Even from himself.

Arthur crept through the door and shut it behind him, trying his best to ignore Gaius's curious brow. He knelt at Merlin's bedside placed a soft hand on Merlin's shoulder.
He tried to focus on Merlin's fluttering eyelids, but the inherent wrongness of the position distracted him. A king never kneels. Uther's voice in his head was clearer than Arthur's own mind sometimes. But as Merlin's dark blue eye cracked and he let out a long groan at the sight of the prince, Arthur knew his father was wrong. He would happily kneel for Merlin any day.

"Go away." Merlin pulled the blanket above his head to escape him.

"Come on, Merlin." Arthur shook him a little more firmly.

"It's not even morning," Merlin grumbled. When Arthur didn't pull away, Merlin slapped the blanket away from his face and glowered at Arthur. "The sun's not even up yet. What could you possibly need?"

The answer was simple and much too hard to voice. So instead, Arthur said, "it's important."

Merlin was on his feet in an instant, tugging on his boots. Arthur was amazed. One word and Merlin flung himself into action to be by Arthur's side. He struggled to fight back a smile until Merlin straightened to search for a tunic. His lithe body was a long line of lean muscle that tapered into a narrow waist. Arthurs sudden need to touch was almost enough to wipe his plan from his mind completely.

Here, alone in Merlin's bedroom in the quietest hour of the morning, he could imagine 

He wondered if Merlin would be as responsive to a different word if his loyalty would be strong enough to grant Arthur's wish. But he forced his eyes away and cleared his suddenly thick throat.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted so much more from Merlin than pleasing touches given out of obligation.

When Merlin was dressed, Arthur led him through the darkened corridors to the nearly abandoned North tower. It was dusty with disuse but 

Arthur unlocked the door that led to the ramparts and Merlin broke his curious silence. "What's happening? Are we under attack?"

"What? No. Of course not." Arthur looked over his shoulder at Merlin with all the confusion and disbelief the question brought him. As if he'd be sneaking around dusty corners of the castle with Merlin instead of leading the knights and the royal guard. As if he would wake Merlin before anyone else in the event of an attack like Merlin would be of any use. 

Arthur scoffed and climbed the stairs, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he ascended into crisp dawn air.

The sky was just beginning to lighten from imposing black to a deep blue. Arthur smiled. He'd made it just in time.

Merlin was even more confused when Arthur sat on the ground, with his back against the stone wall, and gestured to the empty place beside him.

Merlin pulled his threadbare jacket tighter around himself and sat. A full-body shiver wracked him when he settled in, and Arthur's smile disappeared.

He'd forgotten to warn Merlin to dress warmly, had forgotten a blanket for them to sit on to protect them from the icy stone beneath them. If he'd given it more thought, he might've even brought a steaming tea with him to warm them. It was bad enough that Merlin was tired, cranky, and confused, but now he was shivering with cold as well. 

Arthur stood and unlatched his cloak, draping it over Merlin before he could try to stand. He almost regretted the gesture when he resumed his seat and the cold from the stone seeped into his bones. But then Merlin sighed and tucked the cloak more firmly around himself, underneath him, and Arthur knew he would endure the cold for a lifetime if it meant keeping that relieved little smile on Merlin's face.

The deep red of his cloak complimented the pink flush in Merlin's cheeks. The aristocratic fabric contrasted with his sleep mused hair and tired eyes. He was a vision better than the sunrise, but Arthur dragged his eyes to the sky before Merlin could say anything.

The peace that found them as the sky burst with color, orange and pink and blue, was a rare thing for Arthur. But sitting there with Merlin, the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world, and enjoying something so simple as the sunrise, Arthur didn't feel like a prince. The weight of his kingdom was a phantom touch, the fear of his father's disapproval quieted, the urgency to court Merlin melted away. In that perfect moment, he was just a man with his love beside him, admiring the beauty of nature.

The sun would rise when he was king, and it would still rise long after he was dead and forgotten. Its enduring power was enough to wash away all of Arthur's troubles for what was he but a man in the face of the eternal universe.

A grating snore shattered the peaceful silence and jolted Arthur's nerves. Merlin's mouth was hanging open, a trail of drool on his chin. Head askew where it had fallen back against the wall. The breath he blew out was quieter but sour as it knocked into Arthur's senses.

Another snore and Arthur was ready to pummel him.

Didn't Merlin know Arthur had brought him here so they could share this moment? How the hell were they supposed to connect romantically when Merlin was snoring like a herd of thundering horses?

Arthur elbowed Merlin harshly, waking him with a shout.

"What was that for?" Merlin demanded.

"Go back to bed," Arthur ordered through clenched teeth.

"Are…" Merlin thought better of questioning him. He rose and retreated to the door.

In his peripheral, Arthur could see Merlin was still sleeping clutching the cloak around him. He should demand it back, but he liked the way it looked curled around Merlin to ask. He was right. Merlin looked breathtaking in Pendragon red.

When Merlin was gone, Arthur slumped back against the wall and scuffed the heel of his boot petulantly.

This was never going to work.
 

Chapter Text

The advice his friends had given him was useless. Arthur wasn't sure if the problem lay with him or in the fact that Merlin was a peculiarity. Arthur was inclined to blame Merlin. It wasn't as if Arthur wasn't a desirable match. He was a skilled warrior, strong, and handsome. He had wealth, and power, not that Merlin cared. He could have anyone in the world just for the asking.

But maybe Merlin wasn't interested because he knew him so well. Oh god, Maybe Arthur's personality was so dissuading that it outweighed all of the things he had to offer. But no, Gwen had known him almost his whole life and had swooned under his kiss once.

How had he managed to win her affection? He cooked her dinner. Well, no. He'd had Merlin fetch dinner from the palace kitchen and had passed it off as his own creation. He'd stolen her bed and made her sleep on a stack of burlap sacks. He'd insulted her home and made her fetch, bucket by bucket, enough water for him to bathe.

What had she ever seen in him?

Arthur found Gwen in Morgan's chambers, fluffing her pillows at the tail end of setting her bedding to rights. He dithered in the doorway for a moment, unsure how to ask gently what needed to be asked. There really was no tactful way to go about, was there?

"You loved me once."

Gwen startled, pillow flying out of her grip and one hand rested on her heaving chest. "Arthur, you scared me!"

"Apologies. I didn't mean…I just needed to ask." Arthur stepped deeper into the room and retrieved the pillow from the floor. He turned it in his hands, studying the silky fabric as he mustered his courage. "You loved me once, but...why?"

"Why?" Gwen asked. There was a furrow in her brow, tight with concern, and on the hand still resting on her chest, her thumb fiddled with a ring on her fourth finger.

"Not why?" Arthur huffed, frustrated at his own inability to voice his proper question. "How? How did I win your love?"

"Arthur…" He ignored the tension in her, the careful way she spoke his name, gentle but wary.

"How do I make someone fall in love with me?" Arthur turned imploring eyes and saw her fear for the first time. She thought he was making demands of her. She thought he'd come to threaten her marriage to Lancelot. He was quick to correct her. "Someone else. How do I make someone else fall in love with me?"

"Oh." The word left her as a sigh of relief and the tension melted away. She took the pillow from him and set it to rights on the bed before taking a seat on its edge and gesturing for Arthur to join her. "I see. Who?"

Arthur hesitated as he considered whether it was best to tell her. She was Merlin's best friend. Though she was a friend to Arthur, he could not count on her discretion. And even though it might make the whole thing a lot faster, he didn't want Merlin to learn of his feelings from anyone else but Arthur himself.

Gwen didn't seem to need an answer. Her lips curled into the same knowing smile as Gwaine and she said, "Have you told him how you feel?"

"Absolutely not." That answer was easy.

"Have you taken any steps to…" Gwen trailed off and when she found the right word, it made Arthur cringe. "To woo him?"

"Many, but he remains as oblivious as ever." Arthur frowned even as Gwen smiled. "I fear no romantic gesture will work because he does not see me romantically."

"Maybe not. I certainly didn't." Gwen's smile turned wry, and Arthur couldn't help but feel her private joke was at his expense. "For a very long time, you were a bully. Rude and entitled. Then you met Merlin and I could see the change in you. When you weren't being such a...I could see the nobility in your heart, the honor. I realized you were a handsome, brave, good man, but I didn't allow myself to see you in a romantic light because of your position."

Arthur sighed, that old familiar disappointment but Gwen was quick to interrupt.

"How could a servant ever see a prince as a viable romantic option? It would be preposterous. It wasn't until you came to stay with me and spoke with me about how you wished titles didn't matter. When you revealed that you wanted to kiss me, that's when I finally allowed myself to realize my true feelings for you."

Arthur hummed, thoughtful. He remembered that moment vividly. His first kiss in the bright morning sunlight. The way Gwen's eyes had widened, the way her breath caught before she leaned into him.

"I don't think you need to worry about making him fall in love with you." Gwen's voice was so warm it made Arthur smile despite himself. "If he knows what's in your heart then it is impossible for him not to love you already. All you need to do is tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"Tell him how you feel. Your intentions. Tell him of your love for him." She must've been able to see the unease in him because she raised her hands placatingly and said, "If you cannot speak the words, try a letter. It will allow you to say it all without having to worry about being interrupted or rejected. I know it's scary, but if you offer your heart to him on a page, there is no way he could refuse you."

"Right." A letter. Arthur could do that. He'd been lost in musings of his feelings for Merlin for weeks. It shouldn't be too hard to write them down. And a letter was infinitely more preferable than saying it to his face.

"Ah, Arthur. To what do I owe this displeasure?" Morgana swept into the room in a graceful wave of silk and ribbons.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to see you."

"Come to gossip with Gwen?" Morgana dropped onto the bed beside her maid. "I love a little gossip, and anything to have you interested would have to be good."

"We're not gossiping," Gwen said, taking one of Morgana's hands in hers. Arthur was distracted at the ease of the gesture. He wondered for a moment if he would ever be able to do that with Merlin. "He just stopped by for a friendly chat. And he was just going because he has important business to attend to."

"Ah yes. The all-important kissing of the king's ass." Morgana gave him a sweet smile that was so at odds with her words. "Don't forget to pucker."

Arthur's eyes rolled again of their own Accord as he rose. "Goodbye, Gwen. It was lovely to chat with you. Goodbye Morgana. I hope father marries you off to a warthog."
Arthur smiled as Morgan's shriek followed him into the hall.

His new destination was his writing desk, and nothing was going to shake him from that now. That was the easy part.

When he was seated, ink at the ready, quill poised over a smooth expanse of parchment, he froze.
 

Dearest

 
He tried, but Dearest Merlin just didn't feel right. He crossed it out and tried again.

 
My love
 

It felt better but was it still too bold. Merlin could take one look at the first line and bolt before he even got to the real stuff. He crossed it out, resigning himself to rewriting a cleaner draft when he was finished composing.

 
Dearest
My love,
My dearest moron,

 
Arthur chuckled to himself. He had to admit it felt better than attempting something heartfelt and romantic. He could almost imagine himself saying it to Merlin in person. 

I have attempted to make my intentions clear, but your stupidity knows no bounds. It is a wonder you are able to find your way around the castle at all given how blind you are. I thought your clumsiness, your laziness, your insolence, were your most annoying qualities, but I was wrong. Your willful ignorance is enough to make me want to fire you, as much as you've tortured me with it over the last days.

You are no less than an oaf, and I've had the misfortune of falling in love with you. A condition I would cure with the vilest of medicines from Gaius if it would free me from this hell. I long to make you suffer the way I've suffered in your presence, but even I cannot dream of creative enough punishment. 

As this curse is unlikely to fade, and I will be stuck loving you for the rest of my life, I demand your hand in marriage as penitence. It is the very least you could do.

Begrudgingly yours,

Arthur Pendragon

 
Arthur had to admit he felt pretty good when the draft was complete. It was the same kind of stress relief he got when he battered Merlin around on the practice field. But on a first read-through, Arthur's smile faded. It wasn't exactly what Gwen had intended. Was it?

This was not the letter that would make Merlin fall into his arms and accept his proposal of marriage without hesitation. No matter how fun it had been to write.
Arthur crumpled up the parchment and cast it aside with the debris from his lunch. It would be disposed of with his other trash and forgotten.

He pulled a fresh stretch of parchment and resolved himself to write a new letter. One where he didn't insult Merlin.

Arthur's quill was still until the light of day faded and Merlin arrived to serve him his dinner. He tossed the quill aside and closed up the ink.

He would not be writing a love letter today.
 

Chapter Text

A week later and Arthur was still trying to pen his feelings. Lord Geoffrey of Monmouth had been indulgent of the amount of parchment Arthur had been using at first. Said he was happy the young prince was finding joy in the written word. Now whenever Arthur snuck into his chamber that was little more than a maze of dusty books, Geoffrey scowled and reminded him that "parchment is not an abundant harvest. It takes time and money to produce." So Arthur had taken to carrying around a gold coin with him, so that whenever the mood struck to try to capture in words the way that Merlin made him feel, he could trade a stack of parchment for a gold coin and spare himself Geoffrey's lecture.

He spent more time at his desk these days than he ever had before. If Merlin noticed, he had yet to make comment. That wasn't to say that Merlin wasn't an unobtrusive presence. He seemed especially intent to disrupt Arthur today, slamming things around and huffing loud breaths of irritation.

Merlin slammed the door of his wardrobe with a bundle of Arthur's finery in his arms and Arthur couldn't ignore him any longer.

"What is it?"

"What?" Merlin affected an innocence too sunny for even his own chipper personality to be real.

"What's with…?" Arthur gestured the door Merlin had just slammed.

"I'm to prepare you for dinner with your father."

"And this offends you?" Arthur creased the page he was working on so it could not be read and covered his well of ink. He would not be able to write anything with Merlin in such a state, buzzing around like a gnat.

"No."

"Then why are you so angry?" Arthur again gestured to the wardrobe.

"I'm not angry," Merlin said. A blatant lie. "Im just preparing your clothes. Your father requested your presence at his table tonight. To speak with you regarding your upcoming nuptials."

Arthur felt the ground drop out from below him.hed missed his chance. He'd dallied too long and Merlin had discovered his intentions and clearly didn't approve.

He cast about for the right words to explain himself, but just as was his habit, he found none.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Merlin asked and suddenly he was no longer angry. His devastated gaze was burning into Arthur as he clutched the studded jacket to his chest like a lifeline.

"I tried. I just couldn't find the words." Arthur admitted. It seemed a pitiable consolation when spoken aloud.

"You could've told me you were engaged to be we'd. You never even told me you were in love." Merlin's next words were soft, spoken to the floor. "I thought we were friends."

"We are." Arthur rose and put himself right in front of Merlin. If nothing else came from this disaster, that had to remain true. "You are my best friend. My closest confidant."

"Then why didn't you confide in me?" A flare of Merlin's anger was back but it was laced with uncertainty. "Why was I not aware that you had met someone new? Why did I have to hear from Uther's man servant that you are betrothed?"

Arthur's apology was derailed by Merlin's words. It took a long moment to untangle the misunderstanding, but when he did, Arthur couldn't help but laugh. Merlin thought he was in love with someone else.

Merlin shrunk back, withering in the face of his laughter. Arthur stopped him before he could slip away too far, hands curling gently around Merlin's wrists.

"I'm not betrothed yet." Arthur said, ignoring Merlin's skeptical look. "I had to ask my father permission to woo and marry because it is not befitting of my station to marry a man let alone a servant."

"A servant." Merlin's brow furrowed. Arthur could imagine him trying to work out which servant could have possibly caught his attention.

"Yes." Arthur nodded. He swallowed the nerves climbing up his throat and steeled himself with the same courage he summoned before a battle. "I didn't tell you because I haven't found the words to tell you that I've fallen in love with you."

Merlin's eyes went wide, mouth gaping. It would have been funny if Arthur hadn't wanted to throw up. Finally, he squeaked out a word. "Me?"

"You. Merlin."

"So that letter you wrote?" Merlin shrugged his arm loose of Arthur's grip and pulled a folded piece of wrinkled parchment from his pocket. Arthur caught the glimpse of his own handwriting, the words my dearest moron, before he saw Merlin's grimace.

"You didn't like it?" Arthur knew he wouldn't. That's why he's spent the last week trying to write something better. Still, he couldn't help the vague urge to pout.

"It's could use a little work." Merlin said.

"You weren't even supposed to read it!" Arthur snapped, defensive.

"You're the one that left it on the table!" Merlin bit back.

"Well I'll be more careful in the future now that I know you go snooping through my rubbish for secrets."

Merlin clenched his jaw and scowled into the distance.

Arthur shook his head. He didn't know when he'd lost control of this conversation but he knew he needed to get it back. And he needed to do better than his meager attempts from before.

Arthur lowered himself to his knees before Merlin and took his hands carefully in his. Merlin gaped at his delicate grip, at the sight of him deliberately on his knees.

It wasn't much, but it was all he could offer. 

"I used to look to my destiny as a king with dread, nearly crushed under the weight of duty and fear. Meeting you changed everything for me. Everything that you taught me...knowing all the good we can do for the world. I'm eager for the future to come. And when I think about the person that I want beside me, in title and in life, there's no one else but you.

You are my dearest friend, my greatest annoyance, the person I trust more than anyone else in the world."

"You've been acting strangely for weeks." Merlin muttered under his breath, almost to himself. There was a distance in his dazed eyes made Arthur frown. He didn't know how to breach it.

"I came to realize all of your best qualities that I had been willfully blind to. Your cunning, your humor, your beauty."

Merlin choked on a gasp, tears shining at the edge of his eyes. Arthur squeezed his hands to force his attention back where it belonged.

"Merlin, you are a precious treasure hiding in front of me all along and I don't intend to ever forget that. Would you do me the honor of being my husband?"

A tear fell, glistening on his cheek, as he choked out a single word. "No."

Chapter Text

"No?" Arthur demanded. In all his fretting, all his planning, and romantic gestures, Arthur had never counted on Merlin refusing. Remaining frustratingly ignorant? Yes. But refusing outright? "But I love you."

Merlin ripped his hands from Arthur's grip and wrapped them tight around himself as his sobs came more freely. He shook his head almost absently as he spoke around his tears. "You wouldn't love me if you knew the truth."

Arthur pulled himself to his feet. Torn between the desire to comfort Merlin and disappear to tend to his own wounded pride. Merlin's pain won out over his own.

He wrapped a careful arm around Merlin's shoulders, unsure if he would allow the touch, but Merlin collapsed against his chest without any further prompting.

"What are you talking about, Merlin? There's nothing that I could possibly learn that would make me love you less."

Merlin quieted, his forehead digging into the meat of Arthur's shoulder as he shook his head. His arms trembled against Arthur's chest, and when he heard the words, Arthur finally understood why. "I have magic, Arthur."

Merlin must've sensed the tension in his body, the way even his heart would've stopped beating if he'd let it because he pulled away. His eyes were wide with fear as he hovered a few feet away.

Arthur couldn't help but notice the way the red from his tears made the blue of his crystal eyes even sharper, the tears making them glitter like sapphires. He was beautiful.

"I didn't choose it. I was born with it. But I only use it for you, Arthur. You and Camelot." Merlin's words started low but grew louder and faster, jumbling together by the end. "I would never hurt anyone. Even you. Especially you. I love you."

Arthur's world shifted a few inches to the left. He swore he could almost hear his understanding settling into place as his memory and his knowledge of the man in front of him came into perfect focus where it had only been blurry before. So many mysteries solved, so many questions answered. 

There was a little fear there, a sting of betrayal, but above it all, overshadowing everything else was awe and gratitude. The revelation made Merlin's loyalty even more remarkable, his patience and lack of recognition.

His whole world shifted in a matter of seconds and Arthur found he loved Merlin even more than he thought was possible.

"It doesn't matter."

"Arthur…"

"Don't you see? You must marry me. If my father ever found out my servant was a sorcerer, he would have you executed, but he wouldn't dare execute a member of the royal household." Arthur insisted. "Your position as Prince's Consort could protect you."

Merlin didn't argue but his doubt was written all over his face. It was in the way he tightened his arms to protect himself, the pinched concern between his brows, the pity at

Arthur's naivety in the curve of his mouth.

"I'll prove it," Arthur swore. Merlin came alive with fear and before his plea could be spoken, Arthur assured him. "I won't expose you. I'll keep your secret."

When Merlin had relaxed enough to listen, Arthur went on. "I'll prove to you that my father would accept magic if it came from someone in the family. You'll see. Then we can be married."

Merlin looked absolutely miserable, but there was a small hopeless smile at the edge of his mouth. It was okay. Arthur would believe enough for both of them. Nothing was going to stand in his way.

|||

Arthur thought dinner with his father would have been a subdued affair. He was prepared to bury his hope, his joy, his electric sense of pride that Merlin loved him, but he didn't have to. Uther and Morgana were bickering when Arthur finally arrived. The energy in the room was lively, and Arthur relaxed his restraining grip on his own bright emotion.

"Arthur!" Uther beamed at the sight of his son even though his next words were meant to be a scold. "You're late."

"My apologies, father. My personal duties held me longer than I intended." Arthur took his seat, eyes drifting through the room to find Merlin with the other servants against the wall.

"Ah!" Uther's good mood made him generous, curious. "Tell me, how goes the courting?"

"Who on earth could you possibly be courting?" Morgana laughed. More quietly, but still, a barb meant to sting, she muttered, "That poor girl."
Arthur ignored her, not ready to bring Merlin into the fold quite yet. He was still pale as a ghost and Arthur could forget the way he trembles with sobs. So he addressed his father instead. "Very well. In fact, we've come to an understanding."

"So, he has agreed to your proposal?" Uther asked, a thread of disappointment lacing his question. Arthur couldn't begrudge him that. If Arthur had been refused by the servant boy, Uther would have been able to marry him off to a Noble Lady eventually.

"No. We seem to have a philosophical disagreement." Arthur raced for a cover to explain his questions that would not leave Merlin open to suspicion now or in the future. He found one when his eyes landed on Morgana, snickering behind her goblet. "My beloved has a great fear of magic. He is worried that should he take my hand and ascend to a position in the royal family, he will become the target of sorcerer's seeking vengeance."

Uther's jovial attitude had vanished at the mention of magic. In the corner of Arthur's eye, he could see Merlin fidgeting and tense, but he didn't dare look at him. "He also seems to have the irrational fear that magic could come from the royal family. I tried to assure him that even if a member of the royal family was a sorcerer no harm would come to him, but he wouldn't be swayed."

"I would not allow the use of magic in my household." Uther's tone was a blade of ice through the warm air.

"I told him as such. I said that even if, say, Morgana turned out to be a sorcerer-" Arthur saw the woman jump at the sound of her name. Saw her eerie eyes grow wide at the hypothetical accusation. Uther cut him off before he could finish stealing his words and the string of his thoughts until he was left staring at his father blankly.

"If Morgana was using magic, I would have ordered her to the executioner's block myself. Your love cannot protect you from the evils of sorcery, and sorcerers are incapable of love at all. I would see every last one burned until their bodies matched their ashen souls even if one had been pretending to be like a daughter to me."

Morgana set her goblet down so delicately that it did not make a sound, even in the pressing silence of the room that followed Uther's words.

"So, you may tell your intended, he has nothing to fear." Uther raised his glass and took a long pull of wine.

Arthur watched, numb. "I will."
 

Chapter Text

Uther was the only one to finish his meal. Morgana excused herself once the discussion of magic was over, begging off due to a headache. Merlin was gone when Arthur finally allowed himself a glance in his direction. Arthur was left alone, trying to find the strength to entertain his father when all he wanted was to chase after Merlin and apologize. He had no idea how he'd gotten it so wrong, how he'd underestimated his father's hatred of magic so badly, but his words would haunt them both.

When the whole torturous affair was over, Arthur rushed to Merlin's chamber but the man wasn't there. Gaius seemed unconcerned over his absence, but Arthur knew better. He decided to check his own Chambers next. Sure, Merlin might be in the kitchen or the stables, but he would pout in Arthur's rooms long before he would volunteer himself for actual work.

When Arthur burst through his door, it was to find a cold, dark, empty room. Arthur sighed, preparing himself for the long search he had ahead of him, but before he could plan his next move, he was under attack.

Rough hands shoved him more deeply into his chamber and slammed the door behind them. Instincts won out over surprise and Arthur had his attacker pinned to the closed door in a second.

"Morgana?"

She scowled and batted away his hands. Ignoring his confusion and gleefully adding to it. "How could you?"

"How could I what?" Arthur wondered how Morgana would know that he'd accidentally hurt Merlin with his carelessness. Did she know about Merlin's magic or that he was Arthur's intended?

"I don't even know how you found out, but you just couldn't wait to tell your father could you?" Morgana's anger faltered into something much more fragile. "It was Gwen, wasn't it? She told you. I saw the two of you talking and-"

"What are you on about?" Arthur demanded.

"My magic!" Morgana hissed. She didn't dare to yell the words but she got as close as she could with a whisper.

"You have magic?"

"You didn't know?"

They stared dumbly at each other for a long moment before the weight of what she had just confessed hit Morgana. Her hands flew up to cover her gaping mouth. Tear-filled eyes widened as she shook her head.

“It’s alright.” He reached for her, but she flinched away before he could touch her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The tears broke free and slid gracefully down her cheeks as she measured his words and everything in them. “But your father…”

“My father is wrong,” Arthur said. The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he had to say them. He had to admit it. “He’s been wrong all along. I just couldn’t see it.”

“All this time, I thought you were just like him,” Morgana whispered.

“I wanted to be.” Arthur sighed and turned toward the window. He could see the edge of moonlight and the glimmering torches of an evening in Camelot. It was so much better than the look of a wounded animal in Morgana. “I thought magic was evil. I thought sorcerers deserved to die. But Merlin and now you-” 

“Merlin has magic?” Morgana gasped.

Arthur spun, heart in his throat. Hearing those words in someone else’s voice stirred a panic in him greater than he’d ever known. A truth Merlin had managed to hide for years, and he hadn’t been able to stay silent on it for a full day. “You can’t tell a soul.”

“I wouldn’t.” She swore, steel in her eyes and her spine.

“Then your secret and your life are safe with me,” Arthur promised.

Something in Morgana softened as she took a step toward him. “Merlin is the one you’re courting.”

“Yes.” Arthur braced himself for her snide remarks. She cut with her words even better than she did with a sword. After half a lifetime with her, he knew better than to leave himself defenseless. But she didn’t say a word. A small genuine smile was his only answer. 

She paused in the doorway as she left. When she looked back, Arthur could see there was something she needed to say, but she stayed her tongue. 

“I will make things right. I promise you.” He vowed. 

Arthur saw the fear in her eyes, shining out behind the tears. It was the same fear, the same weight Merlin must've been carrying for years and he wasn't alone. If magic was something you could be born with, and not just a craft to be studied, how many citizens of Camelot lived with this fear of discovery every single day?

As much as Arthur wanted to chase Merlin down and ease the ache in his own chest, it was becoming increasingly clear that he had a larger duty to attend to. When she vanished, he was left alone in the dark with his thoughts.

Arthur lit a candle and took the now familiar seat at his writing desk. 

Chapter Text

When Merlin found Arthur, he was laboring under the light of a nearly melted candle, forgotten in the growing light of morning. The sound of the door closing made Arthur look up from the tip of his quill for the first time in many hours, his back screaming its pain from being forced to straighten when he had been stooped over the desk for so long.

Merlin didn't try to meet Arthur's eye. He set the table with breakfast and went about tidying the room as if nothing had ever happened. The only evidence of the disaster of the day before was the strained silence. 

Arthur looked down at the draft of the document in his hand. It wasn't completed, wasn't ready to be presented to the public, but Merlin needed to see it. He needed to know.

"Merlin, come here." Arthur called gently. Merlin followed the order without a hint of reluctance or disobedience. It made Arthur sigh. "Read this."

Merlin eyed the parchment in his hand as if it were a snake. "If that's another love letter, I don't want it."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just shut up and read it."

Merlin snatched the page out of his hand. His scowl slowly melted as his eyes skimmed the mess of hastily written and rewritten words. Merlin had only made it to the middle of the first page before he looked up at Arthur, emotion making his eyes shine with unshed tears.

"It's to be my first decree as king." Arthur swore.

"The legalization of magic." Merlin swallowed hard, eyes dropping back to the words. "They'll think you're ensorcelled."

"I'm not."

Merlin’s gaze snapped back up to Arthur’s face at the force of his words. He considered him for a long moment, before he cautiously asked, "How can you be sure?"

Arthur pushed to his feet and closed the distance between them. Merlin shuffled uncertainly on his feet as Arthur approached but didn’t dare run. His eyes were shining with something brighter than Arthur had ever seen even if his mouth was still tensed in a firm line. "I trust you"

Arthur was nearly bowled over when Merlin threw his arms around his neck and crashed into his chest. He could feel the faint trembling under Merlin’s skin even as he laughed breathlessly. A joyfully free sound Arthur had never heard within the walls of the citadel.

Guilt twisted him up inside, but warmth twisted in the other direction. He felt like he was unraveling as he clutched Merlin’s slender body against his. A careful brush of lips against his stole Arthur’s breath. 

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d ever had, but it may as well have been. Arthur felt cautious and clumsy in a way he never had before. Nothing had ever mattered as much as this moment. 

The gust of hot breath Merlin released was a stronger touch than his skin. Arthur shuddered and pulled him closer, claiming Merlin’s lush mouth with his own in a way he hadn’t dared fantasize about. Every glide of flushed slick skin against his sent sparks of warmth across his nerves. Merlin’s shaking hands clutched his shoulders for balance, bunching the fabric uncomfortably against his skin, but the desperate grip only spurred Arthur on.

Their kiss slowed until Merlin dropped his head against Arthur’s shoulder and panted for breath. Arthur understood. He was struggling to breathe around the enormous swelling of affection in his chest, the relief of finally having Merlin in his arms. There was little room in his chest for anything else, let alone air, but he decided he’d be happy if his lungs never moved again. 

"Ask me again." The words were a breath against his neck that made him shiver.

Arthur pulled back far enough to meet Merlin’s deep blue eyes and he realized that all the dread he’d felt before was gone.  He didn’t have to court him or convince him that Arthur was a respectable suitor. He didn’t have to win Merlin. He’s had him all along.

Even when Merlin had been holding back that vital piece of himself, Merlin was his. But now the truth was laid out between them. Neither was holding back, and it had never been clearer. They were never going to end up anywhere else but here.

“Marry me.” Arthur breathed. “When I have righted my father’s injustices. When you’re free. Be my partner, my husband.” 

Merlin’s smile was blinding when he laughed, "Of course I will, you cabbagehead."