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Chapter Text

   Merlin's lung were burning, his legs screaming at him to stop, but he keeps moving. It had been foolish of him to leave his Prince in the small room above the tavern to go talk with Kilgharrah. He had known that it would be a long shot, the dragon helping them with the journey they were on, but he had still hoped. While making his way back, he had spotted a fire. A camp of burly and dangerous looking men. Men apparently with a vendetta against the Royal Family of Camelot. How they had heard that Arthur was there now, in this small village, Merlin did not know. All he was sure of was that, if they managed to find him, they would undoubtedly try to kill him. If he had been able to sneak away from the camp undetected, he may have been able to get to Arthur, and have them both gone by the time the men ever stepped foot in the village. Instead, he had tripped magnificently, drawing too much unwanted attention, and had to run.

   His legs nearly give out in sheer relief as the village comes into view, but he forces himself to keep sprinting forward. He can hear the sounds of the men and women inside the tavern as he approaches, laughs and shouts and off-tune singing. He pays all of it no mind as he careens into the door, nearly knocking it right out of place as he falls through. He narrowly avoids falling again, lungs heaving in deep breaths as he steadies himself. All eyes are again on him as he rushes into the room. Disgruntled shouts, and rather rude names, are tossed at his retreating back as he weaves his way through the crowded floor to the stairs at the back. He bumps into some poor soul, and gets a shove to his back in retaliation. He stumbles into the wall, barely taking a second to shake himself off as he moves for the stairs. The angry shouts die down as he takes the rickety stairs two at a time. They groan threateningly under his feet as he charges up them.

   As soon as his feet reach the upper floor, he's moving quickly in the direction of the room he had left Arthur behind in. He is keenly aware of his pulse racing in his chest as he nears the door. He doesn't have many options available to him. As good a warrior as Arthur is, there are too many highly skilled men for the Prince to handle alone. The room is too small for Merlin to risk using his magic to defend him, and he doesn't have time to grab Arthur, and their things, and leave before the men get here. His only option, really, was to hide Arthur. Disguise him long enough for the men to move on. But how?

   Arthur snaps his head up in surprise when Merlin bursts through the door. "And where exactly have you been? And why do you look like you've just come from a rather arduous training session? What's the matter with you?"

   Merlin ignores the Prince's questions, instead asking one of his own. "Arthur, do you trust me?"

   The Prince's face contorts slightly. "What kind of question is that? What's going on, Merlin?"

   "I don't have time to explain." Merlin replies in a rush, taking a step closer, keenly aware of the door to the tavern banging open again downstairs. "Do you trust me? Yes or no?"

   For one heart stopping moment, Arthur doesn't reply. Merlin almost asks again, more urgently, when the Prince finally says in a soft voice, "Of course I do."

   With a sigh of relief, Merlin angles his body so he is between Arthur and the door, then steps close enough to cradle the Prince's jaw, keeping him steady as he leans in and kisses him soundly on the mouth. Arthur makes a muffled sound of surprise, hands coming up to rest on Merlin's wrists, and for a moment, Merlin is worried that Arthur is going to pull away and yell at him, effectively giving them both away. Instead, he starts to kiss back, fingers settling over the pulse point in Merlin's wrist.

   Merlin's head swims for a moment, but he quickly comes back to himself as he hears heavy footfalls on the stairs, ascending to the second floor. His heart very nearly gives out as he suddenly remembers the ring bearing the Pendragon crest adorning Arthur's finger. If anything now was going to give them away, it would be that.

   Easily enough, he pulls his wrist away from Arthur's grip, moving his hand to run gently over the back of Arthur's. Deft fingers grip the cool metal, and slide it from the Prince's finger unnoticed. Under the disguise of gripping the Prince's hips with both hands to walk him forcefully backwards into the wall, he slips the ring into the small pouch hanging from Arthur's belt. Just in time, too, as the multitude of footsteps reach the upper floor and start down the narrow hall, opening doors roughly as they go.

   As Arthur's back connects with the hard, unforgiving stone wall behind him, he separates from Merlin's mouth with a soft, breathy gasp. Startled blue eyes fix on Merlin's face before sword calloused fingers curl into the hair on the back of his head, and pull him back in for a much more heated kiss then before. Merlin makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he realizes just how much Arthur seems to want this.

   He lets his attention wander to the footfalls approaching the door he so stupidly left open. Not that it would have made much of a difference. Arthur must hear them too, because he tenses in Merlin's hold, and again Merlin fears that Arthur will push him away. He tightens his grip on the Prince's hips. A warning. A plea.

   "Hey, you there!" A gruff voice growls out. Merlin's heartrate explodes, and he presses closer to Arthur, trying to make their embrace look as passionate as possible in a desperate attempt to make whoever these men are feel awkward and want to leave. He hears one of them take a step into the room, and he fears that they're about to be made, when he hears a snort of disgruntled disgust behind them.

   "Damn bloody kids." The gruff voice snaps, before footsteps lead back out of the room. Merlin keeps his mouth firmly against Arthur's until all the footfalls from all the men have passed the door. When they're gone, he pulls away, but only far enough to catch his breath. There is only one way to and from this floor, and the men will have to pass by again on their way back to the stairs. Arthur is again staring at him with wide, shocked eyes, looking slightly dazed. Under any other circumstances, Merlin would revel in his ability to render the great Prince of Camelot speechless.

   He tenses as he hears the men returning. He presses his face closer to Arthur's letting their noses brush, but their lips remain separate. He hears grumbled curses shot their way in several different voices as the men all pass. Merlin closes his eyes tight, and prays that none of them decide to approach them after all. He doesn't realize that he's held his breath until he hears all the men descend the stairs back into the tavern below. Arthur noticeably shivers as Merlin's breath ghosts across his still slightly parted lips. He stays where he is, pressed close to the Prince, until he hears the men leave.

   "Right." Merlin says, pushing away as he steadfastly ignores his body begging him to kiss Arthur again. "We need to leave."

   Arthur blinks at him. "What?"

   'Gods above, he even sounds dazed.' Merlin thinks as he takes another step away, turning to survey the room, and what of Arthur's belongings had been unpacked. Thankfully, there's not much there, so he moves to the bed to repack everything into Arthur's bag. When he turns, both his and the Prince's bags slung over his shoulder, he finds Arthur exactly where he had left him, leaning against the wall, blinking owlishly at him.

   "Arthur, come on. Those men are here, looking for you. We need to get out of here before they come back." Merlin says, bordering on slightly desperate. Honestly, what was the matter with him? Merlin waits with bated breath as Arthur blink again, then seems to give himself a little shake.

   "Right." He says, finally pushing away from the wall. Merlin heaves a relieved sigh, and heads for the still open door, peeking out to look both up and down the hall to make sure none of them were still lingering in wait. They were completely alone, so he steps out, leading them carefully to the stairs.

   "Merlin." Arthur says, close behind him, sounding alarmingly more coherent.

   "Not now, Arthur. We need to leave first." Merlin snaps back. There's an annoyed and irritated huff behind him, and he knows that he's walking the line between pushing Arthur too far and coming off as his normal, insolent self.

   He treads down the stairs slowly, ears strained to hear anything out of the ordinary from the crowd downstairs. He can feel Arthur behind him, much closer than normal, if the heat along his back is anything to go by, but resolutely refuses to think about it. He won't let himself linger on the feel of Arthur's lips pressing back against his own until they are completely clear of any and all immediate dangers.

   When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Merlin casts an uneasy look around the room. He doesn't see any new faces from when he burst inside earlier, but he remains tense and on guard. Who knew what these people did for a living, or in their spare time. Any number of them could have been bought off by those men. They heard of Arthur's whereabouts somehow, after all. Deciding to lead them around the perimeter of the room, so as to avoid the people scattered over the tables throughout the center of the room, he grabs Arthur's wrist and tugs. Arthur huffs behind him again, but surprisingly allows himself to be lead forward. Several hard glares are sent their way, the patrons still unhappy with Merlin's rather rushed entrance earlier.

   Merlin gasps in a breath of fresh air as they make it outside. There's no one around, but seeing through the quickly fading light is difficult, and far from accurate. There was an almost vibrating tension underneath Merlin's skin, and he just wanted to get out of this village as soon as possible.

   "We need to get to the horses, and ride as far from here as we can." Merlin whispers to the Prince, now standing beside him.

   "Good idea. You get them, and meet me back here." Arthur replies. A jolt of panic runs through Merlin's body at the thought of them being separated again.

   Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "No!"

   Arthur looks at him, eyebrows raised. "No?"

   "We should stick together. We'll be safer that way." Merlin says, not wanting to give away just how little he likes the idea of being apart from his Prince when he knows that danger was nearby. He holds his breath as Arthur looks him over with an unreadable expression on his face.

   "Of course. How could I forget how useless you are at protecting yourself. Very well, Merlin, we'll go get the horses together." Arthur replies, but something about the tone of his voice tells Merlin that Arthur actually does agree with him, he just doesn't want to admit it.

   Without another word, Merlin leads them off in the direction of the stables nearby. He keeps his eyes and ears trained for any sounds that could alert an attack, but everything around them is quiet. Where did the men go? Before he can take another step, Arthur grabs his shoulder and pulls him around the corner and out of sight, just as two men appear out of the stables, grumbling about royalty and spoiled princes. They wait for several beats after the voices have faded to nothing before ducking back out onto the narrow street, and jogging the rest of the way to the wooden building.

   Merlin's usual mount nickers softly as they slip inside, and he brushes his fingers gently over the mare's nose before hurrying to grab their tack from the wall. To his surprise, Arthur grabs his own, easily getting his own stallion ready by himself. If they weren't so pressed for time, Merlin would allow himself the opportunity to stop and gawk at Arthur actually doing something for himself. As it is, he rushes through dong up buckles, and settling their bags behind his mare's saddle, as Arthur leads his mount to the large doors. Merlin leads his own over as Arthur slowly opens them.

   With no one in sight, still, they lead their horses out into the fading light, being sure to close the door behind them. No need to announce their presence, or their sudden departure. They both swing up into the saddle easily, making eye contact as they settle on their mounts. Through wordless agreement, they decide to head west, out of the village away from Camelot, and closer to the border of the kingdom. Arthur naturally takes the lead as he kicks his horse forward, the stallion shaking his head in disapproval before surging forward. Merlin's mare follows close behind, happy to let Arthur lead. They hear a few shouts as they gallop through the village streets, but hear no signs on pursuit.

   Arthur doesn't slow until he reaches the tree line, and even then, he only slows enough so neither horse trips as they move through the dense foliage in the coming darkness. Merlin remains tense until he feels that they're far enough away from the village, still with no sounds of pursuit, that they're out of danger. His magic stops prickling under his skin, ready to burst forth at his command. His shoulders drop from their previous tense line, and he takes a deep breath, to properly fill his lungs since before he found the men to start with.

   "What were you doing?" Arthur asks, and Merlin startles at the sudden noise in the otherwise quiet forest around them.

   "I'm not doing anything." He says, confused. Arthur gives him a look, easily telling him that he's an idiot by the expression on his face alone.

   "No, I mean before. You left. What were you doing?" The Prince clarifies. Merlin's heartrate picks back up again, the tension returning to his shoulders. He couldn't exactly tell Arthur that he was consulting the supposedly dead Great Dragon about the reported magical disturbances along the border of the kingdom. Not yet, anyway.

   "When we passed through earlier, I had noticed some herbs that Gaius was running low on. They're notoriously hard to find, so I thought I'd go back and try and find them." He lies smoothly, internally wincing at how dirty he felt to have to continue to lie to his Prince.

   Arthur hums thoughtfully. "And did you? Find them?"

   Merlin grunts. "I found something, but it wasn't herbs." He replies. When Arthur raises an eyebrow, barely seen through the dark, Merlin elaborates. "I came across the camp of those men. They had a grudge against your family, and had heard you were there. They wanted to kill you. I couldn't let them."

   "So," Arthur starts slowly, "instead of just telling me that before..." He drags off, and Merlin's cheeks redden, either from embarrassment or annoyance, he isn't sure.

   "In case you didn't notice, I didn't have a lot of time to explain anything to you." He grouches. "Besides, if I had, you would've just wanted to fight your way out, and there were too many of them. Even for you."

   The Prince merely hums again, and Merlin would give anything to be able to read his thoughts. Memories of kissing the man rise back to the forefront of his mind, and he finds himself wanting to make more of the same memories. The feel of Arthur pressed so close to him had been intoxicating, in a way, and he desperately wanted to know if Arthur felt the same way. He had kissed back, after all. Despite the questions burning in his mind, he holds his tongue, obediently following after his Prince in silence.

   They ride for another hour or so before Arthur deems them safe, and they stop to make camp for the night. Again, to his vast surprise, Arthur takes care of his own horse, avoiding looking at Merlin at all costs. Merlin feels the sting of that particular rejection strongly, and mumbles about going to find firewood before slipping back out into the quiet solitude of the trees. When he returns with an armful of dry kindling, he finds Arthur seated on the ground, back to a tree, staring thoughtfully ahead of him. He blinks back to the present as Merlin approaches and drops the branches on the ground.

   They remain quiet, much to Merlin's fraying nerves, as he sets the branches up properly, and sets them alight. He sits back for a moment, wanting to rest for a second before laying out their bedrolls. His muscles were protesting his long sprint from earlier, and he just wanted to sleep. He's just about to force his body up to continue setting up their camp, when Arthur inhales deeply, readying himself to speak.

   "Was there any other reason?" He asks, voice quiet. Merlin stares at him, body freezing still as images of having to confess his magic here and now flood his mind. When Merlin doesn't reply, Arthur look directly into his eyes, and adds, "For kissing me. Did you only do it to hide my identity from those men?"

   Merlin stares at him, trying to keep his mouth from falling open, as he registers the almost vulnerable way in which the Prince had voiced his question. Was there another reason? Yes. Simple as that. Merlin had been fighting back feelings for the Royal Prat since shortly after everything with Valiant happened. When Merlin still fails to reply, Arthur flushes slightly in the firelight, and looks away, mumbling something under his breath that could be, "Nevermind."

   "Did you want there to be another reason?" Merlin blurts before he can really think of a proper response. Arthur's eyes snap back to meet his. Merlin meets the scrutiny head on.

   "If there were... other reasons," Arthur says slowly, "I wouldn't necessarily be opposed to them."

   That was not the answer that Merlin has been expecting. He had long ago resigned himself to the fact that his frustratingly growing affections would always be unrequited. The fact that this assumption may not actually be the case has him staring mutely at the Prince again. When Arthur shifts uncomfortably, so subtly that no one but Merlin would notice, Merlin forces himself to speak.

  "What exactly would you do if there were other reasons?" Merlin asks, heart in his throat. Arthur studies him intently for a long moment before nodding to himself, seemingly coming to a decision.

   "I would tell you to do it again." He replies, voice sure, and face even more so. There are absolutely no hints of uncertainty or indecisiveness anywhere around him. He means every word. Merlin inhales sharply, eyes dropping to Arthur's lips without him consciously doing so. Arthur seems to notice, as he shifts slightly, leaning ever so slightly closer. Merlin forces his eyes back up to Arthur's as he swallows thickly. Intense, deep, blue eyes are already looking back at him. Practically boring down into his very soul.

   "Kiss me." The Prince orders, voice low and sure and commanding. Merlin's body obeys before he even fully realizes that he's doing so, crawling forward to straddle the Prince's outstretched legs. Arthur exhales heavily as he leans back against the tree trunk behind him, hands on Merlin's waist pulling him closer.

   "Kiss me." He says again, quiet this time, so only the air around them gets disturbed by the words. Merlin has to swallow thickly again before complying with the Prince's command.

   This kiss is even better than their first. There is no outward sense of urgency to it, no looming dangers to them. It's just them, and the crackling of the fire next to them. The distant sounds of forest life, and the horses munching contentedly on grain. Merlin's heart flutters madly in his chest as he focuses solely on the feel of Arthur's lips pressed willingly to his own.

   When they slowly break apart, Arthur looks up at Merlin in his lap, eyes sparkling in a way that Merlin has never seen before. He smiles back, soft and shy, keenly aware of the red flush to his cheeks.

   "Your other reasons are permissible." Arthur says, in as much of a royal tone as he can muster. Merlin barks out a delighted laugh.

   "Good to know, Sire." He says, leaning in to kiss him again languidly.

Chapter Text

   It had been a few days shy of a fortnight since Arthur had last spoken to Merlin, and he was still angry. How could he not be after the conversation they'd had? Merlin. His clumsy, insolent, idiot of a manservant had magic. Had always had magic, apparently. The sting of being lied to for nearly an entire decade was still fresh and raw. Arthur had trusted Merlin with even the most private parts of himself, but the other man had never deemed him worthy enough to return the favour. Instead, he had lied, continuously.

   'My magic is yours, Arthur! I only ever use it for you. To keep you safe!' Merlin had said that day. In fact, it was one of the last things he had said before Arthur had sent him away. And he had stayed away, just like Arthur had asked him to. He needed space to think, to go over what he knew of magic, what he had been told his whole life, and what he truly believed it to be now. In almost ten years, Merlin had never once tried to harm him. That had to say something. Didn't it?

   A sudden need to get out of the castle, out of the city altogether, arises, and he gets to his feet. Though he was still loath to do so, he needed to find Merlin. Twelve days should be long enough, and they needed to talk. Privately. Where no one could interrupt them. He spends the next half an hour scouring the Royal Household in search of his servant, who, for the first time in possibly his entire life, had taken Arthur's orders seriously and was frustratingly impossible to find. By the time he finally found him, walking into the courtyard in dusty clothes, with a laden down bag of herbs over his shoulder, the King was frustrated and annoyed all over again.

   Merlin looked wary as Arthur approached, dark storm clouds practically visible over his angry set face. The lingering hint of fear in Merlin's eyes brings Arthur pause. Thinking back over their rather heated conversation before, Arthur realized that he had never actually said anything regarding Merlin's fate. The laws of Camelot still called for Merlin's execution for possessing and performing magic within the kingdom. Merlin's current expression clearly spoke of this thought at the forefront of his mind, and it very nearly makes Arthur flinch. Merlin didn't actually think that Arthur would have him executed. Did he?

   "Merlin." He says, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. "You need to pack our things."

   "Why?" Merlin asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

   Arthur huffs an aggravated sigh. "Because I told you to." When Merlin doesn't move to obey, Arthur huffs again. "We're leaving to go on a hunting trip, and we need supplies in case we stay out over night."

   Merlin looks him over shrewdly. "I don't recall seeing a hunting trip on your Royal Schedule, Sire." He says.

   Arthur glares at him. "Well, it is now. Now stop questioning the orders of your king, and go do as I asked."

   As Merlin scowls and walks away, muttering under his breath about having to do everything for the spoiled prat, Arthur rubs at his face wearily. Almost two weeks of barely seeing each other, two weeks of no words spoken between them, and it gets broken with an argument. He glances around the crowded courtyard surreptitiously, hoping that they hadn't drawn any unwanted attention to themselves. Despite his being the king, no one seems to have paid them any attention. Thankfully.

   He makes his way back into the castle, being sure to avoid all pathways Merlin might be using to gather their supplies. He winces outwardly as he thinks about Merlin's future annoyance over packing their hunting equipment, and then Arthur not making use of it. It really couldn't be helped, however, as Arthur knew well enough that if he had merely asked Merlin to leave the city with him to talk, the man would've undoubtedly had questions, or started yelling, or even flat out refused. Being the king clearly made no difference to Merlin when it came to him being as stubborn as a mule.

   "There you are!" Merlin says loudly as he bursts through the Council Chambers' doors. Arthur startles and looks up at him. He quickly schools his features back to something more uncaring and aloof.

   "Here I am. Are you finished doing as I asked, then?" He replies, a harsher edge to his tone than he had intended. He was still angry, after all, he reminds himself.

   "Yes." Merlin bites back. Arthur lifts an eyebrow. Merlin huffs a breath out through his nose, flaring his nostrils in frustration. "Yes, Sire."

   "Good." Arthur replies in faux cheerfulness. "What are we waiting for? Let's go then."

   Merlin opens his mouth to retort, most likely about how it had been him who had been avoiding Merlin and therefore holding up their departure, but wisely closes his mouth and silently follows the King out of the room. The eerie and unusual silence follows them all the way through the stone halls, to the heavy wooden doors leading them outside. As promised, two horses are awaiting them in the sunshine, one laden down with all manner of supplies, the other standing regally and waiting for the King. A warm breeze picks up, ruffling the horses' manes as they chomp on the metal in their mouths. Arthur nods and descends the stone staircase toward them.

   "I'm assuming everything is as you desired, my Lord?" Merlin says from beside him as he quickly checks over the various buckles holding his mount's tack in place. The King grits his teeth in frustration. This was not going to be an enjoyable venture out of the city. However, it was unfortunately necessary.

   "Yes, it's fine, Merlin." He replies, brushing Merlin aside as he settles a foot in the stirrup and swings up onto his horse's back. The mare senses his agitation and shuffles on the spot uneasily, snorting her disapproval. Arthur soothes a hand down her gleaming neck to calm her, glancing over his shoulder to see Merlin settling upon his own mount, a trusty old gelding that Arthur himself had practically learned to ride on. Merlin meets his eyes and gives him a nod. Arthur nods back and nudges his horse forward. She immediately breaks into a trot, heading for the entrance to the courtyard automatically. The King hears Merlin following behind, and feels himself relax. At least the man was still willing to go wherever the King led.

   The stilted and frosty silence remains as they manoeuvre through the streets of the Lower Town. The people of Camelot all respectfully move out of their way, the younger ones crowding along the edges of the streets to watch their king ride by. Arthur smiles at them politely. He may be angry with Merlin, and that anger may still be festering under his skin, but he wasn't going to take that out on his people. If the children wanted a king that they could look up to, and stare at with awe, then that is what he would give them. Nevermind how Merlin always said it made his head too big for his own crown.

   Arthur breathes a sigh of relief as they finally step free from the city. It had started feeling suffocating there. All the people. All the laws demanding Arthur make a very specific decision. He glances over at Merlin, sees him looking up at the clouds in the sky, of all things, a hint of a smile playing at his lips, and he just knows. As angry as he was now, he wouldn't stay that way. However, the potential for things to get a little more heated between them is still there, as Merlin drops his gaze to meet Arthur's, and his face hardens noticeably. Arthur feels how own expression go stony before he looks away. Yes, they still had a long, potentially on fire, road ahead of them before they could go back to the way they were.

   One deep breath later, after deciding it was time to start down that dangerous path, Arthur says, "Merlin, I believe that it's time we have a talk."

   "Oh, that's rich," Merlin snaps, "coming from the man who's refused to so much as look in my general direction for nearly a fortnight."

   Arthur slowly counts to ten in his head. "I've needed time to think, and I couldn't do that with you around."

   "Am I really so much of a distraction that you honestly can't think when I'm around?" Merlin retorts. Arthur has to try and swallow his tongue before he responds to that statement with something stupid and damning.

   'Yes, you are. And it's not just the betrayal and the lies. It's the truth behind how close we're grown. It's the feelings I've never felt before rushing to the surface whenever I see your blue eyes. It's the temptation I feel every time you open your mouth and speak.'

   Instead, he says, "Forgive me if I didn't want a further reminder of your treason every time I tried to figure what to do with you."

   His snapped words have their desired effect, Merlin instantly shutting his mouth, screwing up his face like he had tasted something overly sour, or vile. Arthur feels a flare of regret over his harsh words, but doesn't speak again. He takes his time, regulating his breathing, focusing on the scenery around him, the things he can reach out and touch, the smells filling the air around them, the taste of the forest air on his tongue.

   "We were never coming out here to hunt, were we?" Merlin says, breaking the tense silence between them.

   "No." Arthur admits.

   Merlin nods. "You brought me out here to, what? Pass your sentence in private? Wanted to spare me the humiliation of being sentenced to death or exile in front of the entire Royal Court? My friends?"

   "What? No! Of course not!" Arthur exclaims, scandalized. "Gods above, Merlin, why on earth would you even think that?" He adds with a frown.

   Merlin raises his eyebrows incredulously. "Oh, I don't know, Arthur, you tell me. Maybe the countless number of executions I've had to witness since stepping foot in Camelot has something to do with that." He drawls sarcastically.

   "No one has been executed for sorcery since I took the throne." Arthur argues. Merlin snorts out an unamused laugh at the King's words.

   "The laws are still there, Arthur. How am I, how are any of the people like me, supposed to know that our magic isn't going to ultimately end with our execution?" Merlin shoots back angrily.

   "It isn't fair to assume the worst of me, Merlin. I am not my father, and those laws were not put in place by my decree. Do not take my father's shortcomings out on me." Arthur replies through gritted teeth. This was certainly not going as well as he had hoped.

   "Maybe not, but they're still there. Can you really blame me for thinking I wasn't safe?" Merlin's clipped words have the King's eyes snapping back to his.

   "You could have talked to me. I can't read your mind, Merlin, how was I supposed to know that you didn't feel safe around me?" He snaps. Merlin's mouth drops open for a moment in shock, and Arthur goes back over what he had said, and winces slightly.

   Very softly, Merlin says, "I did try to talk to you, Arthur. You know what that got me? Nothing. You can barely stand the sight of me." His voice grows in volume as he continues. "You know how hard it was to decide to finally tell you my deepest and darkest secret? And all I got in return was you turning your back on me. You sent me away with hatred in your eyes, assuming the worst of me, and replaced me without a second thought. I'm not even allowed to bring you breakfast and wake you in the morning anymore. George is doing all that!"

   "That's not true!" Arthur argues. "I did not replace you. I just needed space to think over what you had told me! Is that really so big a crime?"

   Merlin huffs another unamused laugh before shaking his head and looking away. "I don't know why I expected anything different from you." He spits harshly, as if ever having any faith in his king was the dumbest thing he's ever done.

   "I was waiting until I was less angry with you before trying to talk with you, but you are so infuriating. I don't know why I ever thought that, that could happen." Arthur snaps.

   The man riding along next to him shifts cold, hard eyes back his way. "If you hate me so much, then why are we even having this conversation? Why not end it now and be done with it?"

   Merlin's words push Arthur over the edge. He reins his horse in so sharply that the mare throws her head back to try to escape the harsh pull in her mouth. Rage is bubbling hotly in Arthur's stomach, rising up his chest, as he dismounts, pushing away from the mare's side to land heavily in the dirt beside her. He tosses the reins onto her neck, walking around her to grab Merlin's mount's reins and pulling him to a stop as well. Merlin glares down at him as Arthur steps closer, eyes opening wide as Arthur reaches up to grab a fistful of the front of his tunic. He lets out a yelp as Arthur tugs, pulling him from the saddle, and very nearly depositing him on the ground in a heap. Only the King's strong grip on his clothing keeps him upright.

   "Arthur, what the hell?!" Merlin yells as he steadies himself. Arthur doesn't answer, just uses his grip on Merlin's tunic to pull him close enough to angrily claim his mouth with his own.

   Merlin grunts in surprise, lifting his hands up to settle over Arthur's ribs, as if moving to push him away. However, he pauses for a moment, hands resting on Arthur's body, and then he presses closer, matching the angry intensity of Arthur's lips with his own as he slides his hands around to the King's back. One hand splays across his lower back, as the other moves to take a handful of his tunic between his shoulder blades. Arthur lets his other hand settle on Merlin's hip, fingers practically bruising through the cloth of his trousers.

   Merlin's reciprocation of his embrace spurs Arthur on, and he growls low in his throat as he bites at Merlin's lower lip, licking into his mouth as Merlin meets his challenge head on. From there, it devolves into a hot tangle of tongues and a clash of teeth as they both fight to win over control.

   As abruptly as he dove in, Arthur retreats, breathing heavy and harsh. He only pulls away enough to see Merlin's eyes. He can't tell if they're dazed, shocked, or angry. Perhaps a mix of all three. He lets his own eyes flick back and forth between Merlin's before trying to speak.

   "I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, do you understand? Don't you ever think that I hate you." He spits venomously before roughly shoving Merlin away from him. The man stumbles back a few steps, his grip on Arthur's clothing pulling free. Arthur glares at him from this new distance for a few beats before turning his back on the man. Fury still curling in his chest, he grabs the reins from around his horse's neck and strides angrily away on foot, leading the mare behind him.

   The farther from Merlin that he gets, the more his anger cools, and the more realization of what he had just done fully hits him. Gods, what had he just done? Why had he done that? He had just been so angry, so hurt that Merlin could ever think so low of him, that he had simply stopped thinking at all. His body had completely taken over, and had done that. Now what was he supposed to do? He buries his head in his hands and huffs softly. What a mess he had truly made of things.

   "Arthur?" A soft, tentative voice says by his side, a few paces farther away that it normally would be.

   Arthur grunts into his hands, refusing to look up. A very hesitant step brings Merlin a little closer.

   "Arthur, I'm sorry. I know you don't hate me, and I know you would never sentence me to death. I shouldn't have assumed the worst of you, that wasn't fair." Merlin says, voice still soft and giving, not as harsh and unyieldingly stubborn as it had been before.

   "Then why continue to lie?" Arthur asks, dropping his hands, but still refusing to look at the man beside him.

   Merlin inhales deeply. "At first, I had to lie, because I didn't know you. Then, I didn't want to make you choose between me and your father. After that, it was me and your kingdom. It wouldn't have been fair of me to put you in that position."

   Arthur frowns. "Merlin, that doesn't make any sense. Even when my father was alive, I could have helped you. I would have kept you safe. How could you not know that?"

   A gentle hand settles on his forearm, finally making Arthur look up to meet Merlin's eyes. Even his face has gone soft and open. Vulnerable in a way that Arthur hasn't seen for nearly a fortnight.

   "I should have told you sooner. I wanted to. There were so many times I just wanted to blurt the words out, but I was scared. I was scared of hurting you, of pushing you away, of ruining whatever it is that we have between us. It was foolish, and I am sorry." Merlin says earnestly. Arthur believes him. He's still hurt, but the anger is gone, the familiar sting of betrayal from someone close to him is gone. It rushed out of him as he had harshly staked his claim to Merlin's lips.

   Arthur nods slowly. Once. Twice. Opens his mouth to quietly say the words, "I could never hate you, Merlin. Never you."

   Merlin gives him a small, crooked smile. "I know. Just as I could never hate you, no matter how much of an arrogant prat you can be."

   A surprised huff of laughter leaves Arthur's lips, and it makes Merlin's shy, tentative smile break out into something brilliant and dazzling. The sunlight catching his eyes almost seems to light up flecks of gold in his eyes, and the sight makes the King's breath catch. Beautiful. He was beautiful.

   Arthur steps closer again, more questioning this time. Where he had taken what he wanted last time, he now wanted to ask permission. Merlin's sunny smile sobers back down to the merest curl of his lips as he reads Arthur's unspoken intentions. Reaching out, Merlin ghosts his fingertips along the King's jaw, making Arthur close his eyes as he sighs softly. He doesn't flinch as slightly parted lips brush over his own, just a little damp from a pink tongue.

   While their first kiss had been rough and demanding, this one is soft and pure. Arthur revels in the slow slide of Merlin's lips upon his own, the taste of him lingering as he slowly pulls away. Arthur opens his eyes a few seconds after Merlin leaves, finding blue eyes already looking back.

   "There's something I want you to look at." Arthur says. "New laws on magic that I had begun drafting before you ever even told me about yours. I don't want any of my people to have to live in fear. Especially not you."

   Merlin huffs a watery laugh. "You are unbelievable, you know that?" He asks, smiling at the King so lovingly that it makes Arthur's stomach flop. "You are already a much better king than your father ever could've hoped to be."

   The words make Arthur's blood sing, and he smiles back hopefully. Merlin leans in again, this time simply letting their foreheads come to rest together. Arthur watches as Merlin closes his eyes, and sighs happily. Maybe this hadn't all gone terribly wrong after all. They really did still need to talk, but at least he knew that they were on the right track now.

Chapter Text

   Merlin was a very careful person, and a worrier by nature. He always says that he gets it from his mother, who raised him alone as an only child. He was the type of friend who wanted you to text him when you got home safe, and would text you first if you forgot to. He was the kind of friend who always reminded you not to text and drive whenever you went somewhere. Out at the club with friends, he was the one always double checking that no one was drinking from a glass that they had left unattended for any length of time.

   His best friend, on the other hand, was not. Arthur Pendragon was impulsive, a result of his father's strict upbringing as a child. For starters, he owned and drove a motorcycle, practically everywhere. Sometimes without a helmet, especially if he was taking Merlin anywhere, as he only had the one and always insisted that Merlin take it instead. He was the kind of person to jump into situations first, and then think about them later. He would pick fights in bars, usually with the biggest bloke in the room. He would cross the street without looking both ways first. He drove Merlin crazy. And Merlin was head over heels in love with him.

   Merlin's morning had started just like any other as of late. With his alarm failing to go off, resulting in a mad scramble to shower, get dressed, snag a coffee, and make it to his Uncle's small book shoppe in time for work. While the usual disapproving eyebrow was waiting for him when he half ran, half fell through the door, the little bell above happily singing his entrance, he knew that Gaius didn't really mind. He'd always had a soft spot for his nephew, and Merlin knew it. Obviously, he didn't take advantage of it, but it certainly came in handy from time to time. Times such as this.

   "Good morning, Merlin." Gaius says from the counter, eyes going back down to the paperwork temporarily spread over the surface. "Shall I be investing in a new alarm clock for you for the holidays this year?"

   Merlin laughs good-naturedly. "Morning, Gaius. You can blame Arthur for my alarm never going off. He was the one who got mad at it for going off too early the other day, and throwing it clear across the room. I don't know why the prat couldn't have just turned it off like a normal human being." He says in explanation. He's too busy shedding his coat to notice the interested look in Gaius' eye as the man looks up to study him.

   "Arthur stayed the night?" He asks innocently. Merlin pulls a face.

   "Yeah, a few days ago. He, uh, had gone on another one of his borderline benders with his footie mates. I had to haul his drunk arse back to my flat, cause I didn't trust him not to choke on his own vomit in the middle of the night. The bloke really needs to just settle down." Merlin says, a tinge of worry lacing his tone.

   Gaius hums non-committally, knowing exactly what would settle Arthur's behaviour down, but not wanting to say anything. He was well aware of his nephew's feelings for his best friend, even if Merlin didn't know that he knew. He also knew that it was a touchy subject for the young man, if his rants of meddling friends were anything to go by.

   "He is young, Merlin." Gaius says. When Merlin opens his mouth to argue that he is young, too, and not drinking himself into oblivion every other night (a bit of a wild exaggeration, and Merlin knows it), Gaius continues, "And he is experiencing true freedom for the first time in his life. I know his father, and I know what a tight leash he kept on that boy. He'll get it out of his system soon."

   "I hope so." Merlin mumbles, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of his long sleeved shirt. "He's going to give me an ulcer at this rate, the way he stresses me out."

   Gaius doesn't bother pointing out that most friends, who are only friends, don't worry themselves quite this much over their mates. Instead, he merely nods, gathers his paperwork into a neat pile, then disappears into the back office, telling Merlin to fetch him if anything comes up. Merlin watches him go, then sets about straightening up the book shelves a bit before going to turn the open sign on over the door at promptly nine o'clock.

   Pulling his phone from his pocket, he frowns at the empty screen. Arthur had usually texted him by now. He knew he wasn't out somewhere, recovering from a long night of booze and partying, because they had FaceTimed last night, and watched a movie together from their separate flats. Arthur had ordered a pizza, while Merlin had ordered in Chinese take-out, and Arthur had passed out on his sofa before the movie had even ended. He was home last night, and therefore should've had time to text him before heading to work this morning himself. Merlin bites his lip, worry filling his chest, and debates sending him a text first (to which Arthur will undoubtedly tease him for later, he did that kind of thing whenever Merlin openly worried about him), but before he can so much as hover his thumb over the screen, a customer walks in. Merlin shoves his phone in his pocket, and smiles politely.

   "Hello, welcome to Albion Books. Can I help you find anything specific?" He asks. The young woman smiles at him, cheeks reddened from the chill in the air outside. She politely shakes her head, informs him that she's only browsing, then moves off to wander past the shelves housing a surprisingly large array of books and genres. Merlin lets himself think briefly of Arthur one more time before pushing thoughts of the blond aside. Arthur was fine. He always was. This time was no different, and there was no evidence to support Merlin working himself up over it. Arthur had just been running late this morning.

~~~

   When Merlin's lunch hour break comes around, and he still hasn't heard from Arthur, he lets himself feel worried. Merlin can count on one hand the number of times Arthur hasn't contacted him in any way, and they all involved him being disgustingly sick, and one memorable time when he had broken his foot falling down the stairs and the hospital nurses had taken his phone away because it was messing with their equipment.

   "I'm sure he's fine, Merlin." Gaius says reassuringly as he sets a cup of tea down in front of the younger man. Merlin only frowns. "What exactly do you think has happened to him?"

   "I don't know." Merlin finally replies. "He's not exactly the most careful person in the world, is he? He attracts trouble, and when he doesn't, he goes looking for it." Merlin lifts a stricken face up to his Uncle. "What if something serious has happened to him this time, Gaius?"

   Before Gaius can say anything to ease his fears, Merlin's phone starts ringing from where he had placed it on the table earlier. Merlin's blood runs cold when he recognizes the number for the local hospital. He stays frozen in fear and dread for so long that the call nearly rings all the way to voicemail before he finally lunges for it, nearly knocking the device to the hard floor.

   "Hello?" Merlin answers the call breathlessly.

   "Hello. Is this Merlin Emrys?" A pleasant sounding voice on the other end of the line asks.

   "Uhm, yes. Yes, that's me." Merlin stumbles over the words.

   "Mr. Emrys, I am calling you because you are the emergency contact on file for a Mr. Arthur Pendragon. Do you know this man?" The woman asks. Merlin almost throws up.

   "Yeah, he's my best friend. Is he okay?" Merlin asks.

   "Mr. Pendragon was involved in a traffic collision this morning, and brought in for..." Merlin zones out as the woman keeps speaking. Arthur was hurt. Badly enough that they were phoning Merlin for him. He could be lying dead or dying in a hospital bed, could've been all morning while Merlin was telling himself that the man was fine.

   "Mr. Emrys?" The woman's voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts.

   "Uhm, I'll be right there." Merlin says, having no clue as to what the lady was actually talking about, or if she had asked him anything specific. He hangs up before she can say anything else, heart racing in his chest, and hands trembling violently.

   "Merlin?" Gaius says softly, clearly concerned, and Merlin vaguely wonders just how many times his Uncle has called his name before he'd even heard it. When he looks up to meet his gaze, the man raises his eyebrows in question.

   "Uhm, it's Arthur. He's in the hospital. Was in an accident this morning. I need to go." Merlin's voice sounds weird to his ears, emotionless and toneless. He's in shock. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that.

   "I'll drive you." Gaius offers, already rising to his feet to fetch his jacket and keys from his office. Merlin nods idly, already reaching for his coat to pull it on. He follows Gaius out the back door to his car in a daze. It was all a joke. It had to be a joke. Any moment now, Arthur was going to text him, complaining about his boss. Only he doesn't, and Gaius is starting the car and backing out of his parking spot behind the shoppe, and turning to drive Merlin to the hospital. Where Arthur is. After being involved in an accident that morning. Oh, God, what if he really wasn't okay? Why hadn't he paid attention to what that woman had been telling him on the phone?

   His stomach curls again, and he thinks he might be sick after all. Breathing deeply through is nose, he presses his fist to his mouth, blinking back tears as he stares unseeingly out of the window. He jumps violently when a sudden hand lands on his shoulder. He jolts his head around to look at Gaius in the driver's seat, and only then realizes they've stopped moving.

   "Would you like me to come in with you?" Gaius asks softly. Merlin nods mutely, desperate for the support at the moment. If anything terribly serious had happened to Arthur, he really didn't know what he would do.

   Merlin doesn't move to get out of the car until Gaius does, and he follows his Uncle out. He continues to follow all the way to the main hospital entrance. As the scent of disinfectant assaults his nose, he feels the distinct need to vomit again. As they approach the desk, Gaius takes a step back, and Merlin knows he needs to do the talking.

   "Hi." He says as a smiling brunette lady looks up at him. "My name is Merlin. I got a call about my friend?"

   Recognition sparks in the woman's eyes. "Ah, Merlin. Yes, we spoke on the phone. Just take a seat, and I will go grab Arthur's attending physician for you."

   Merlin nods numbly, and moves robotically to take a seat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. There's only two other people in the waiting area with him, a couple who is clearly expecting a baby. Unlike him, these two don't look tense or scared at all. If only everyone could be so lucky. Gaius sits down beside him, a calming and constant presence at his side.

   "Mr. Emrys." A male voice pulls Merlin out of his thoughts again. He jumps to his feet to shake the Doctor's outstretched hand. "I'm Doctor Bayard, I've been looking after your friend."

   Merlin swallows. "How is he?"

   Doctor Bayard chuckles. "I'm sure he's had much better days than the one he's had so far today. He has suffered a fairly significant concussion, has three cracked ribs, and two breaks in his right tibia and fibula, which make up the bone structure of the lower leg."

   "So," Merlin says slowly, blinks a few times, "does that mean he's okay? Or, going to be okay?"

   "Mr. Pendragon will make a full recovery, yes. It will take time, but you seem like the type that will keep him under control as he rests and heals." Bayard replies, a slight twinkle in his eyes. Merlin curses himself as he feels his cheeks flush.

   "I don't know about that, but I'll do my best." He bites his lower lip uncertainly. "Can--can I go see him?"

   Bayard smiles kindly at him. "Of course. He is still resting after his surgery, we had to set and pin the bones in his leg before casting them, but he should wake soon. You can wait for him in his room. I'll have one of the nurses take you while I go over some of the finer details with..." He drags off as he looks at Gaius.

   "I'm Gaius, Merlin's uncle." Gaius says. The Doctor nods, then gestures to a young woman who's just appeared at the front desk.

   "Yes, Sir?" She asks as she approaches.

   "Sefa, would you take Merlin here to Mr. Pendragon's room, please?" Bayard asks.

   "Of course." Sefa replies. "Right this way." She adds, smiling brightly at Merlin. Merlin smiles wanly in return as he shifts his focus to her, and follows her into one of the halls. The smell of disinfectant is even stronger here, and Merlin grimaces. White fluorescent lights shine from the high ceiling, and Merlin can feel a headache brewing behind his eyes from everything that has happened today.

   "It's this one." Sefa says, gesturing to the closed door to their right. "I must say, he's a lucky man to have his boyfriend drop everything to come see him."

   "Oh, we're not--" Merlin starts, but the nurse has already bid him goodbye and started down the hall to see to her other patients. Merlin stares helplessly after her for a moment before squaring his shoulders and turning to face the closed door. Never has slate grey looked so imposing to him before. With a deep breath, he reaches out to grasp the handle, closing his eyes as he slowly opens the door.

   When he opens his eyes, he isn't fully prepared for what he sees. Arthur's right leg from the knee down is bound in hard plaster, lying above the blankets covering his other leg and the rest of his body. Merlin can imagine the multitude of bandages wrapped around his ribcage right now. His skin is pale, much more so than Merlin has ever seen it. His usually gleaming, golden hair even looks dull.

   "God, Arthur. Look at you." Merlin breathes as he steps fully into the room. Closing the door softly behind him, not wanting to disturb his friend, he moves to sit in the equally uncomfortable chair by the bed. As he settles down, his fingers itch to reach out and touch a pale hand, or brush the hair from the man's forehead. He keeps his hands to himself, even as his heart stutters as he looks over the various machines hooked up to his friend.

   'It could have been worse.' He thinks to himself. 'I could've lost him. God, I could have lost the man I'm in love with.'

   He has no idea how long he sits there, waiting for Arthur to wake up, but the stress of the day, all the adrenaline that had been pumped through his body, eventually catches up with him, and he finds himself feeling exhausted. He fights against them, but his eyelids droop, even seated in the hard plastic chair. Deciding to rest his eyes for a moment, he lets his chin fall to rest against his chest. Yes, he'll just close his eyes, keeping his ears fixed on his companion in the room to hear when he wakes up.

   His eyes get startled open by the sound of a weak chuckle, and a raspy voice saying, "Merlin, you look like hell."

   Merlin stares at Arthur, awake and alive and mostly whole. His usually bright blue eyes are more grey now, matching his other pale appearance. But it's him, and he's okay, and Merlin is so relieved that he could cry. In fact, his eyes are a little misty at the edges as he leans closer and carefully kisses Arthur on the lips.

   Before he even has a chance to overthink anything, he pulls away and yells, "What were you thinking? You scared me half to death, Arthur! You know how much I hate that bloody motorcycle! Don't you ever even think of scaring me like this again!"

   Arthur stares at him wide-eyed, still reeling from the sudden kiss from his best friend. Merlin stares back, wondering if its maybe the pain medication no doubt coursing through Arthur's veins that has the man looking vaguely like someone hit him over the head. Merlin blinks as he slowly realizes what he had done, then promptly bushes bright red.

  "If it'll get me more of those, I might just have to make this a habit." Arthur finally says, a bit more of his normal mischievous gleam back in is eyes. Merlin brandishes a warning finger at him.

   "Don't you dare. One more call from the hospital like the one I got earlier, and I'll march right down here and finish you off myself." He says, voice still shaking slightly from sheer relief. Arthur was alive. He was okay. He was awake, and talking, and okay. Tired, yes. In pain, undoubtedly. But he was okay. As that knowledge fully hits home, he crumples back down onto the chair, unaware of when he had even gotten to his feet, and buries his head in his hands. He's aware of his entire body shaking as he slowly breathes in through his nose, and out through his mouth. He hears the steady beeping of the machine next to him, counting every strong beat of Arthur's heart.

   "Hey." Arthur's soft voice makes Merlin peek back up at him. "I'm going to be fine, Merlin. Nothing to worry about."

   "Nothing to worry about?" Merlin replies weakly. "Arthur, I got a phone call from the hospital, saying that you had been involved in an accident, and I thought they were calling me to tell me that you were dying. Do you have any idea what that  felt like?"

   Arthur winces slightly. "No, I'm sorry. I never meant to scare you. I'll do my best to stay in one piece from now on."

   Tears well up in Merlin's eyes again. "You better, you prat. I love you too much to lose you for good."

   A sharp inhale makes Merlin freeze. Had he just admitted that out loud to his best friend? He had, hadn't he? Now would be a great time for that nurse to come back to check on Arthur. She doesn't, leaving Merlin to very reluctantly lift terrified eyes up to meet his best friend's.

   "Do you really mean that?" Arthur asks hesitantly. Hopefully? Merlin slowly nods, heart pounding in his throat and blocking off any words that might've been there. Arthur stares at him silently for a moment before breaking out into a breathtaking smile. Merlin can almost imagine the expression adding more colour to his pale complexion.

   "I do, too, you know." Arthur says. "Love you."

   His words take a moment to fully register in his brain, but when they do, Merlin stares at him wide-eyed, looking for any hint of a joke or insincerity on Arthur's face. There's nothing but genuine and fond affection staring back. It makes his heart flutter madly as his stomach flip flops nervously. Where did they go from here? Arthur seems to read the expression on Merlin's face, and reaches a weak hand out to him. Merlin huffs a watery laugh and leans closer, kissing him gently again.

   Pulling away, Merlin says, "You're an idiot. Why didn't you just tell me how you felt?"

   "Why didn't you?" Arthur retorts.

   Merlin chuckles softly. "We're both idiots, then." The words make Arthur huff a laugh, then wince slightly.

   "Come back and kiss me again. I'm in recovery, and I think your lips might be just the prescription I need." Arthur says. Merlin barks out a laugh.

   "You're going to be insufferable, aren't you?" Merlin asks, already moving to do as Arthur had asked.

   "You wouldn't have me any other way." Arthur replies, Merlin close enough now that their lips brush over the words. Merlin just properly kisses him again in response, because he was right. He really wouldn't want Arthur any other way than who he always was. Insufferable.

Chapter Text

   The previously sharp pain in his side was fading to a dull ache that Arthur could almost ignore if he tried hard enough. He knew that wasn't a good sign. He knew he was dying, and that Merlin, for all his gifts and power, could not save him. He had been holding on for as long as he could for Merlin, not wanting to cause him any more pain than he already had. Already was. But he knew. The moment Morgana had shown back up again, scaring the horses away, he knew. He would soon be joining his half-sister's fate, and there was nothing Merlin could do to stop it. Of course, that didn't stop Merlin from trying, and that didn't stop Arthur from letting him.

   Merlin half carried, half dragged him toward the water, but his strength was quickly leaving his body, and he knew they wouldn't make it. Merlin kept going, kept pulling him along, until he could go no farther. He feels his legs buckle under his weight, dragging them both down to the grass beneath their feet.

   "We're not going to make it, not without the horses." Arthur says, wishing for all the world that he could tell Merlin something else. He could hear Merlin's heavy breathing in his ear as the man held him close. "It's too late, it's too late, too late." He repeats, voice growing soft and quiet. "We almost made it, Merlin. You almost saved my life."

   He feels Merlin's hands on his body, trying to haul him back to his feet, and he settles his hand over the one the man has on his chest. He knew how hard this would be for Merlin, how badly he didn't want to let go, to say goodbye, and Arthur would do everything in his currently limited power to ease this passing for his friend.

   "No." Merlin says, trying to sound certain and sure of himself. "I'm not going to lose you."

   "Just, just," he takes a breath, "just hold me, please." He feels Merlin's hold around him tighten, and he pats Merlin's hand gently. He could already feel more of his strength leaving, and he knew that he had a limited amount of time to say to Merlin everything he had always wanted to.

   "There's," Arthur has to stop again to swallow. "There's something I want to say."

   "You are not going to say goodbye." Merlin says in his ear, and Arthur's heart twists with pain for his friend.

   "No. No, Merlin." He says, looking up into Merlin's strained face. He just looks for a moment, trying to memorize the features of his face, the exact shade of blue of his eyes in the fading light, the slight curl to his black hair. Merlin looks back, his pain evidently etched over every feature of his face. This was going to break Merlin more than it ever has before, losing someone, and Arthur feels guilty that he's doing it to him.

   "Everything you've done," he starts again, "I know now. For me, for Camelot, for the kingdom you helped me build." His voice is strained, struggling to get out past the lump in his throat. He feels more short of breath than he ever has, and it feels like the biggest struggle of his life, the biggest fight, just to get his words to come out at all. 'Not long now.'

   "You'd have done it without me." Merlin says, trying to get back to their old banter. His desperate need for their old normalcy makes Arthur's heart twist more painfully in his chest than before. He had never wanted to hurt Merlin. Not like this. He huffs out a weak laugh, trying to give Merlin the smile he so desperately wanted, but he's sure it comes across as more of a grimace than anything resembling a real smile.

   "Maybe." He says, letting his eyes drift up to look at the sky above them. It felt peaceful here, like they were somehow hidden away from the rest of the world, cloaked by a shroud that kept out prying eyes and listening ears. Merlin pulls him closer, jostling him from his thoughts, his breathing coming out a little more rushed, a little more panicky, in his ear.

   "I want to say... something I've never said to you before." He twists his head around where it's cradled in Merlin's arm, wanting to be properly looking at him. He grunts a little with the effort, stopping to try to catch his breath once he's looking up fully into Merlin's face. Merlin looks close to tears, and there is nothing Arthur wouldn't do to be able to wipe them away prematurely from his face. He can feel the dark tugging more insistently at his mind now, urging him to let go. He fights it still, futilely trying to hold on for Merlin. Always for Merlin.

   "I love you." Arthur says, with more heart and passion and sincerity than he has ever said anything in his whole life. Merlin continues to stare down at him, close to tears, and nearly shaking with the effort of staying strong for his King. He always had been the bravest and strongest man that Arthur had ever met, and he regrets ever telling Merlin otherwise before leaving for Camlann. That had been unfair of him, now that he has all the facts.

   With his last bit of strength left in his body, he lifts his hand to brush through Merlin's hair, wishing desperately that they had more time. They were supposed to have more time. There were so many things left unsaid between them, so many things left undone. He hadn't accomplished everything that he had set out to do as king. The kingdoms were still only precariously at a cease fire, magic was still forbidden. Gods, Merlin would never know what it was like to perform magic in Camelot without the threat of execution looming over him. He would never know what it was like to stand beside his King as a free and recognized man. Arthur's heart aches as he looks into his eyes, even as his vision goes blurry and dark around the edges.

   His body goes weak, his hand slipping from Merlin's hair even as he begs it to stay. His vision swims, the darkness encroaching further, but he can still hear. Can still feel.

   "Arthur. Hey. No." Merlin says, voice low and almost gentle, but Arthur can still hear the pain clearly evident in his voice. Wants nothing more than to bundle him up in his arms and tell him that it's okay, that everything will be okay. He'll be fine, with or without his King, he will be fine.

   "Arthur." There's a little more desperation there now, and Arthur feels his cool hand grip the side of his face, fingers sliding down his neck to feel for a pulse that Arthur knows is weak, and only growing weaker. He wishes for his heart to pump more strongly, if even only for Merlin's sake, but he can feel the organ rapidly betraying him. The fluttery beats are slower, and farther apart, barely keeping his consciousness fighting to stay, for Merlin.

   "Arthur!" Merlin yells, and Arthur's eyes blink open. He wasn't even sure when they had slipped shut. He catches the briefest hint of an encouraging smile on Merlin's lips. Hopeful. Always so hopeful. Merlin cradles his head closer to his chest as he breathes, "Hey. Stay with me."

   Arthur wants to. Gods, does he want to. He would want nothing more than to stay here, with Merlin, forever. But he knows that he can't. Even now, he can feel the darkness chastising him for holding on, tugging on his mind more forcefully. It's time to let go, no matter how badly they both want to just hold on.

   He can feel Merlin shifting his grip on his body, can hear him yelling his name, can practically feel the pain coursing through the man's body in his own weak pulsing veins as Merlin cries. He wants to tell him he'll be okay. That he is grateful for everything Merlin has done for him. To tell him again that he loved him, just so he could see his sunny smile one last time.

   Merlin falls back, Arthur's heavy weight slipping closer to the ground. He hears a broken yell, then Merlin's voice roaring words out in a language he couldn't hope to understand, more powerful and commanding than he had ever heard him. All that pain, clear as day in his voice, and it was all Arthur's fault.

   He's shifted to the ground, but he's only barely aware of Merlin moving, shuffling out from under him to lay him on his back in the grass, moving to press their foreheads together. He feels drops of water land on his skin, and he realizes that Merlin is crying for him, over him, and he dearly wishes that he could remind Merlin that no man is worth his tears. Least of all himself.

   In a very broken voice, he hears Merlin whisper, "I love you, too, Arthur. I always have."

   Shaky, chapped lips press against his, the wetness of Merlin's cheeks smearing across Arthur's own cold and pale skin. A warmth starts to build from their intimate point of contact, slowly seeping into his skin, and tingling. He can feel it spread, even as Merlin reluctantly pulls away, letting their foreheads rest together again, more tears landing on his cheeks. That warmth slowly creeps past his mouth to his throat, filling his lungs with an unnatural, but not altogether unpleasant, feeling of being full. It diffuses through his entire body until he can feel it hot and prickly in his fingers and toes. His side burns white hot where steel had pierced his skin, leaving behind shrapnel that was intent on killing him. The heat was scorching and searing, and yet, it did not hurt.

   Arthur fights to stay awake, to understand, but his thoughts were slipping away faster now. He only distantly hears Merlin's cries, his pleads for Arthur to come back, as if he were hearing his voice from underwater. The last thing he is truly aware of is his heart beating, then stopping. After a quiet moment, it gives a small, fluttery, shaky pulse. Another moment later, a slightly stronger beat. He slips away, every sense going black and dark as his heart gives one mighty pound in his chest.

~~~

   He had failed. His destiny was to protect Arthur, to bring about a golden age of peace, and he had failed. Merlin wrapped his arms around his lifeless King again, desperate to hold on, not ready to let go yet. There had to be something. Some way to bring him back. This couldn't be it. Not yet. Not like this.

   The sound of beating wings makes him look up, and he sees Kilgharrah swooping in low over the trees. He lands gracefully for a creature his size, and stares down at Merlin, dead King held tightly in his arms.

   "Please." Merlin chokes. "You have to save him. Please, I'll do anything, just help him."

   The dragon looks down at him, eyes narrowed as he tilts his head. "There is nothing more that I can do, Young Warlock."

   Merlin shakes his head, unwilling to accept that eventuality. "No. There has to be something. Some type of magic to bring him back. I can't lose him."

   "You misunderstand me, Young Warlock." Kilgharrah says, making Merlin look up, tears still glistening heavily in his eyes.

   "What do you mean?" He asks, voice thick with barely withheld emotion.

   "I mean," Kilgharrah starts, "that there is nothing left to be done. You have already done enough."

   Merlin's head spins as he tries to make sense of the words. How had he done enough? Arthur was dead. Merlin had been unable to save him. Surely that couldn't be it. There had to be something more.

   "But I didn't do enough!" He yells up at the dragon in anguish. "I couldn't save him!"

   The dragon's eyes soften slightly. "But you already have, Merlin. Look deep within yourself, and you will see the answers."

   Merlin grits his teeth in frustration, but does as Kilgharrah says. Closing his eyes, he feels for his magic, his life source. Something feels different. Not wrong, per se, but almost like it isn't quite completely there anymore. He opens his eyes with a gasp, first looking at Arthur, still lifeless in his arms, then snaps his eyes up to Kilgharrah.

   "My magic." He says, thoughts split and splintering. "What did I do?"

   "Your soul and your magic are bound together, Merlin. One cannot truly exist within you without the other. However, in your pain, both reached out to your young king and entwined with his." Kilgharrah says softly. Merlin still doesn't understand.

   "What does that mean?" He asks, trying to fight back the flare of hope trying to ignite in his chest.

   "It means, that you have bound your life source with your king. You have bound your two separate souls together. As long as you have breath in your lungs, and a beat in your chest, your king will live. You merely need to wake that dormant magic that you imbued him with." The dragon replies.

   Merlin chokes on the lump in his throat, looking back down at Arthur's pale skin. "How do I do that?"

   "You must take him to the Lake of Avalon, and submerge him in the water. Only there will the ancient magics of the earth combine with yours enough to return your king to you." Kilgharrah says.

   The long way to the lake lingers in Merlin's mind, the journey seeming so close, yet so far. As if reading Merlin's unspoken request, Kilgharrah lowers his head to the grass beside them, staying steady and silent as Merlin scrambles to his feet. He hauls Arthur back up into his arms, nearly toppling over backwards as he strains to manage the weight of not only the King, but also his armour. He struggles Arthur up onto the dragon's neck, scrambling up after him to hold him close as Kilgharrah takes off up into the night sky.

   The lake looms larger, until Kilgharrah gently settles down along the shore, dropping his head to allow Merlin to slide down, Arthur tightly held to his chest. As his feet hit the ground, his knees buckle, and both he and the King sink to the ground. He lets his eyes linger on Arthur's slack face only for a moment before looking back up at the dragon.

   "What do I need to do?" He asks, voice so strained that he hardly recognizes it as his own.

   "You need only put him in the water. The magic here will do the rest. You must be patient, Young Warlock. Wait for your king to be given back to you." Kilgharrah says before spreading his wings and taking off into the sky. Merlin watches him go until he can no longer see him, then settles his eyes back on Arthur.

   Removing the King's armour without him conscious to help is a difficult task, but he manages with a little help from his magic. Steeling himself, he hauls Arthur back up into his arms as best he can, then takes staggering, halting steps toward the water. A chill fills his boots as he slowly walks deeper, waiting until the water is reaching his waist before slowly lowering Arthur down.

   "Come back to me." He whisper harshly, so desperate to just have Arthur returned to him. With a soft press of lips to the King's sallow forehead, he lowers him fully until he is submerged, then forces his arms to let go. A powerful pulse of magic ripples through the lake immediately, pushing Merlin forcefully back to the shore. As Merlin's boots fully leave the water, the surface settles.

   "Now, I wait." Merlin mumbles to himself as he drops down to the ground, eyes fixed on the point where he let Arthur go.

~~~

   He was cold, that much he was aware of instantly, but it was different than it had been before. Whereas the earlier cold had felt all consuming, like it had been brewing from deep within himself, this one felt external. And wet. His lungs burned, but something told him to wait. To not breathe in just yet, so he held on, felt himself being twisted around endlessly, until something pushed him up. He felt his head break the surface of wherever he was, and he gulped in a deep lungful of air, somehow knowing it was safe to do so now.

   Arthur's eyes snapped open, lake water immediately running into them. He reaches an equally wet hand up to rub the droplets from his face, still sucking in great lungfuls of air. He hears a splash behind him, and turns sluggishly to look. Merlin. Merlin is surging through the water toward him, hair wild, and eyes even wilder. His cheeks are red and tear stained, eyes bloodshot and puffy. Like he'd been crying.

   Suddenly, everything comes rushing back. Meeting Mordred. The bite of steel. Merlin's confession of his magic. The long trip to the lake. Morgana dying by Merlin's hand. Not making it, and just asking Merlin to hold him. Telling him he loved him. Then darkness and nothing. Nothing except an overwhelming warmth. Nothing except Merlin. He doesn't know how he knows that, but he recognizes it now. He can feel Merlin with every strong beat of his heart.

   "Arthur!" Merlin cries, throwing himself into Arthur's arms, clinging to him even as he shakes so violently that Arthur fears he may shake apart right then and there.

   "Merlin." He breathes, curling his arms around Merlin's back, turning his head to bury his nose in Merlin's hair. "You did it."

   Merlin coughs out a breath. "How do you know it was me?"

   Arthur pulls back, holding Merlin away to fully see his face. He studies every feature, watches how the light from the golden sunrise plays almost magically across his face. He feels himself smile, knows deep in his bones that somehow he and Merlin are connected now, much stronger than they ever were before.

   "Because I can feel you, Merlin. I know it's you. I would recognize you anywhere, in any form." He replies. Tears well up in Merlin's crystal blue eyes, and he chokes out a sob.

   "I thought I had lost you, Arthur. I thought I was too late. Binding you to me was the only way to save you. I'm sorry." He rambles, slightly manic.

   Arthur silences him with a soft kiss, feeling that same warmth flood into him as before. It infuses into his muscles, clears more of the fog and lethargy from his brain and body. As he pulls away, he lifts his hands to brush away the tears streaming down over the man's cheekbones.

   "No. Don't apologize. My heart already beat for you. Now I can feel you in every one of those beats. You gave me a gift, Merlin, to always have you so close. Do not apologize for that." He says sincerely.

   Merlin chokes out another sob, then presses their lips together desperately. Arthur breathes him in, feeling such a sense of clarity as Merlin pulls away, that he smiles at him. He can feel it, their connection, thrumming along with his pulse. It feels a lot like love, only stronger.

   "When we return to Camelot, you will be free, and everyone will know what you have done for them, what you have done for me. I love you, Merlin, and I want everyone to know that." Arthur tells him, tone full of promise.

   "I love you, too." Merlin says, voice still shaky and choked.

   "Let's go home, Merlin. There is much to be done." He lifts one of Merlin's hands to kiss his knuckles softly. As his eyes drop to the water, he frowns. "Let's at least get out of this blasted lake." Merlin huffs a watery laugh, and kisses him passionately instead.

Chapter Text

   Since coming out as bisexual, a few things in Arthur's life had changed. For starters, his list of friends and acquaintances had severely shortened, all his old school mates from when he was younger wiping their hands clean of him and walking away. Arthur didn't mind that too much, as he had always thought they were only around because of the weight his last name carried. He enjoyed spending time with the handful of supportive and loving friends he had met in Uni, and the deserters didn't really matter. What did hurt, was his father. Uther Pendragon was strictly conservative. He believed in old and outdated traditions, practices, and customs. He had fully expected his only son to marry a nice young woman befitting his social status, and have a son of his own to carry on the Pendragon business dynasty. When Arthur had finally plucked up the courage to tell him that he was sexually attracted to both genders, but did prefer men, Uther had lashed out. He had threatened to sack Arthur from his position as Head of his department in his company, and probably would have if an irate Morgana hadn't stepped in.

   So yes, his life had changed, but this? This was terrifying, because although he knew in his heart that he preferred the look of men, he had never actually so much as kissed one. If Gwaine didn't have such a strong grip on his left arm, and Morgana on his right, he would've turned and ran. To hell with his promise to go out with them, and Lance and Gwen as moral support, to finally celebrate being true to himself. He had a pack of M&M's and a laptop with Netflix waiting back at his flat, and those didn't make him want to puke. The club looming ahead of him, did.

   The thumping bass from what he already knew would be unbearably loud music could be heard from halfway down the block. There wasn't a line snaking out from the door, which settled him a bit, but there did seem to be a steady stream of men and women in various stages of dress and undress walking in and out of the doors. His steps falter, and both Gwaine and Morgana tighten their grip.

   "Come on, Princess." Gwaine says, using his ridiculous nickname to try and rile Arthur up. "All you have to do is walk in, have a drink. If you don't like it that much, we'll go."

   "Exactly." Morgana chips in. "The Arthur I know would never chicken out from anything."

   Arthur grits his teeth, rising to their bait. "I'm not a chicken, I just... This is new." He kind of hates the slight quiver in his voice.

   Gwen, who's walking arm in arm with her boyfriend Lance a few steps ahead of them, turns around to smile reassuringly. "It's alright, Arthur. You'll have all of us there with you, and you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

   He tries to smile at her words, but isn't sure that he is successful, if Gwaine's chuckle beside him says anything. By now, they've reached the bottom of the short flight of stairs leading up to the vibrantly red doors. He falters again, this time his escorts letting him come to a halt. He swallows thickly, trying to imagine what exactly he will see when he steps inside. Despite his hatred at looking vulnerable, he turns uncertain eyes to his half sister. Her own eyes soften as she sees how scared he truly is.

   "If you really don't want to, we won't force you, but I promise that nothing is going to happen to you in there. I don't know what crap Uther has filled your head with, but there is nothing wrong with who you are. Don't you want to truly explore that part of yourself?" She says.

   Arthur swallows again. He did. He had never felt anything, really, with any of the women he had kissed over the years. He wanted to see if the problem was them, or himself. Would he kiss a man and still feel nothing? He sets his jaw, squares his shoulders, and nods his head. He could do this. He didn't squeeze himself into these ridiculously tight skinny jeans that Gwaine had forced him to wear for nothing.

   "Okay. Let's do this." He says, and his friends actually all cheer, drawing a few weird looks from the other people out on the street. Arthur has the distinct urge to bury his head in the sand, or just simply walk away, but before he can do anything, he's being marched up the stairs toward the main door.

   Just as he had guessed, the music inside is almost deafening. A large group of people is already packed onto the flashing dancefloor in the middle of the room. Gwaine and Morgana thankfully bypass this, and lead him to one of the tables lining the wall. Gwen and Lance makes their way to the bar to get the first round, both chuckling at Arthur's wide-eyed look as he surveys the place. There are couples kissing in the deeper corners, and pressed together on the dancefloor. People of such a varying array of looks and styles all mingling so happily together. He feels some of the fear ease in his chest. He was welcome here. No one would judge him for his sexual preferences.

   As soon as a pint is placed in front of him, he's grabbing it and draining it in a few gulps. Morgana raises her eyebrows at him, but Gwaine cheers from his place across the table, drains his, then jumps up to get them both another round. Lance leans across the table and gestures to get his attention.

   "Take it easy, Arthur." He says, as friendly and worried as always. He generally took on the Mother Hen role whenever he was out with any of his friends, and although Arthur usually teased him for it, he was always grateful to have his calming influence around.

   "Here you go, Princess." Gwaine says as he slides a new pint in front of Arthur. This one he takes and merely takes a sip. Lance nods once, then allows himself to be pulled to the dancefloor by a giggling Gwen.

   As Arthur sips on his second drink, slowly draining it. He chats with Gwaine and Morgana, the tension slowly leaving his body until he is completely relaxed. He laughs at something Gwaine says, ducking away from the good humoured swat that Morgana aims at him. As he straightens up, he glances over at the dancefloor to try to spot Gwen and Lance, and that's when he sees him.

   The man is about Arthur's height, if not just a little bit taller. He was lean, with pale skin and dark hair. He had what should have been the most ridiculous looking ears, but for some reason Arthur found them almost endearing. They somehow balanced out the man's sharp cheekbones, accenting his almost fae like features. As if sensing Arthur's eyes on him, the man looks up, locking gazes for a moment before Arthur blushes and looks away. He is eternally grateful that neither Gwaine or Morgana had noticed anything, both already having moved on to a new topic. They do, however, both look up as footsteps approach their table.

   Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking up to greet exactly who he had feared it would be. He wasn't expecting the twinkling, amused blue eyes, and nearly inhales his next gulp of beer. The man's amusement only seems to grow as Arthur splutters for a moment. Gwaine and Morgana look on in their own amused silences. Traitors.

   "Hi, I'm Merlin." The man says, shooting him a sunny smile. It makes his eyes scrunch up a little, and a bit more of Arthur melts.

   "Uhm, Arthur. I'm Arthur." He replies, and nearly closes his eyes in embarrassment.

   “Well, Arthur, would you like to come dance?” Merlin holds out a hand politely, facial expression clearly telling him that there was no pressure. Arthur flounders for a moment, panic once again creeping in. He glances at Gwaine, only to be met with the suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Morgana is watching him with interest, no doubt having seen his utterly disastrous reaction to this Merlin bloke actually speaking to him. When he looks back at the man, he looks even more amused.

   Arthur opens his mouth, on the verge of letting panic win and telling him ‘no, not this time’, when he feels a hand between his shoulder blades give him a shove. He nearly topples off his chair with a yelp, cheeks flaming as Merlin’s hand settles on his wrist to steady him. Arthur has half a mind to twist around and glare at his half sister, but Merlin is even prettier up close, and his annoyed words die in his throat.

   “Perfect, let’s go.” Merlin says. He shoots his traitorous friends a grin. “I’ll look after him for you. I promise that he’s safe with me.”

   Gwaine grins back. “He may look like a delicate princess, but you definitely don’t have to be careful with him. You should see how rough he likes it on the football field.”

   Arthur splutters again, half turning to launch at his poor excuse for a mate, but Merlin is laughing next to him, and it’s such a lovely sound that Arthur forgets his previous mission, and allows himself to get pulled away in a daze. When they reach the dance floor, Merlin turns to face him, smiling softly and reassuringly. For some reason, Arthur finds himself trusting him. He even allows himself to laugh slightly with the man as bodies around them press them closer together.

   “So, Arthur, I’ve never seen you here before!” Merlin calls over the music as his hands settle politely around Arthur’s waist.

   “I’ve never been here before!” Arthur replies loudly.

   Merlin looks at him thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side, as if trying to fathom Arthur out with one single glance. Maybe he manages it, as he pulls Arthur closer, forcing Arthur to match the movements of the other man’s body as he jumps and moves with the crowd. Merlin must feel Arthur relaxing in his grip, because as he does, Merlin allows his hands to move over Arthur’s body more. Arthur definitely doesn’t find it unpleasant, even leaning into the touch.

   Merlin pulls him closer, and Arthur lets him, letting out a slightly shaky sigh as he feels Merlin’s nose brush against the hair behind his ear. His heart is starting to beat faster, but he isn’t sure if it’s from the movement, exhilaration, or fear. His father’s words ring in his head again, loud enough that the man could practically be standing right next to him. He tries to push it aside as he feels Merlin’s warm breath stirring his hair, but he feels an odd mix of comfortable and not, and he isn’t sure what to do.

   That warm nose trails from his hair, down across his cheekbone, and he decides that his racing heart is from fear. Definitely fear. Still, he doesn’t pull away. He isn’t sure it it’s because he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want his father to win, or if it’s because he simply can’t. Either way, Merlin pulls away and looks at him in concern.

   “Arthur, are you okay? You’re shaking!” He says. Arthur tries to answer, but the words stick, so he just gulps in as deep a breath as he can, and shakes his head no. Merlin’s face creases with a worried frown, and he steps back instantly, wrapping his hand loosely around Arthur’s wrist and pulling him from the crowd. Arthur doesn’t realize where he is being lead until Merlin pushes open the doors and leads him outside.

   Arthur gulps in a breath of fresh air, allowing himself to be lead down the stairs, and around the corner into the secluded alley behind the building. For whatever reason, he still feels safe with Merlin. Like he can trust him. He continues to breathe, leaning back against the wall behind him, until his hands stop shaking. Merlin stays where he is, not too close, but not too far either. He still looks concerned.

   “Are you okay?” He asks once it’s obvious that Arthur has calmed down.

   “Yeah, I just...” Arthur drags off and looks away, ashamed.

   Gentle hands guide his face back around to look at Merlin. “Hey, don’t. We all have our stories. This isn’t going to make me think any less of you.” Merlin says earnestly.

   "I just, I've never-- My father, he-- I was never allowed--" Arthur cuts off and grunts in frustration. "Let's just say that I've never been allowed to have this before. Never been allowed to want this. It's all very new."

   Merlin nods in understanding, face free from any kind of judgement. "I get it. I haven't lived it, but I've seen enough who have. You're scared to be you, afraid that you're going to be punished even more for having something, instead of merely wanting it. You already feel like a disappointment, and don't want to think you've let down anyone else. How am I doing so far?"

   Arthur stares at him. "How do you know all this?"

   Merlin shrugs. "I come from a small town. My mother always supported me, but I did my best to help anyone else who was like me, that didn't have that support from their family. There's nothing wrong with you, Arthur. I promise. Being nervous of something new doesn't make you a coward, it makes you human."

   Warmth floods Arthur's cheeks again, but Merlin's gentle grip on his face still prevents him from ducking his head away. He forces himself to meet Merlin's genuinely caring eyes, and practically melts the rest of the way. There was just something about this man, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was. If he believed in destiny, or fate, or in something as soppily romantic as soulmates, that's exactly what he'd say they were. Soulmates.

   "I-- I think I'd like-- with you." He stammers, not even sure he's making sense. Merlin merely smiles and shifts closer to let their foreheads rest together. He feels Merlin's breath fan out over his mouth, and he shivers in anticipation. The panic is gone. All that was left was a sense of right. Everything about being here with Merlin felt right.

   His breath hitches as Merlin finally leans that little bit closer and softly seals their lips together. He feels hot and cold at the same time, wanting to shiver, but also wanting to pull Merlin closer and melt in the heat of his body. Much too soon, Merlin pulls away, smiling as Arthur whines slightly.

   "How was that?" He asks, almost cheeky. Arthur stares at him for a moment before huffing out a laugh.

   "It would be a lot better if you weren't treating me like I was made of glass." He retorts. Gwaine's words from earlier come back, and he blushes again. Merlin must remember them too because he laughs softly.

   "I do seem to remember hearing something like that about you." He says with a grin. Arthur seriously contemplates ending Gwaine. Before he can get too in-depth into his plan, Merlin cuts off his thoughts with another kiss.

   Arthur relaxes into it, letting Merlin step closer as he leans more heavily on the wall behind him. He's essentially trapped between the brick at his back, and the solid warmth of Merlin's body along his front, but he's never felt safer in his life.  He lets his thoughts wander to realms of where soulmates might just be real, but he gets pulled back by a warm tongue licking at his bottom lip.

   A moan tumbles unashamedly from his mouth as he lets Merlin lick past his lips. He very happily hands control over to the other man, a wholly new experience for him, and revels in Merlin's ability to already read him and take care of him. When Merlin pulls away the second time, Arthur is breathless, and dazed, and more than a little worried that he could very easily see himself falling in love with this man. Merlin smiles softly at him, only cementing that thought.

   "Let me take you on a date, Arthur. Treat you the way you should be. Make you see that you have nothing to fear." Merlin says, eyes hopeful. Arthur very nearly laughs at the look. How could he ever say no to this brilliant human being?

   'He could ask me to marry him, and I'd say yes.' Arthur thinks, blushing as Merlin barks out a surprised and delighted laugh, and he realizes that he said those words out loud. God, he really was a mess.

   "I'll keep that in mind." Merlin says with a grin. "For now, let's start with a date."

   Arthur nods, smiling bashfully. "Yeah, okay. I think I'd like that. I know I'd like that. There's just--" He stops, hesitating, wondering if he should say it.

   "What?" Merlin asks, eyes curious.

   Arthur inhales deeply. "There's just something about you. I don't know how to explain or describe it, I just... feel safe with you."

   Merlin smiles softly at him, hands on his shoulders pulling him away from the wall, and wrapping him up in a warm hug. Arthur can't remember the last time he had a real hug, and leans into Merlin's chest, savouring the feeling of being cared for, cared about.

   "I'm glad you feel that way." Merlin says. "I'd be a little worried if you felt the opposite."

   Arthur laughs, squeezing Merlin tight around the waist. Merlin chuckles in his ear. He holds on for as long as Arthur wants him to, not letting go until Arthur pulls back. Arthur lets Merlin just hold him close for much longer than he had planned to, but one look at the man's face washes away any embarrassment he may feel.

   "Thank you, Merlin." He says. Merlin nods, leaning close to press another short lived, chaste kiss to his lips.

   "Give me your phone, I'll put my number in." Merlin says. Arthur reluctantly pulls back enough to fumble in his tight jeans pocket for his phone. Seriously, how does Gwaine wear these every day? When he finally manages to wrangle it out, he passes it to an amused looking Merlin. He gives the man a half-hearted glare, merely getting an already fond chuckle in reply. Merlin taps away at the screen before hitting Call. His own cell goes off in his pocket.

   "There." Merlin says, handing Arthur's phone back to him as he pulls out his own and adds Arthur's name as a contact. "Now you can text me to set up that date. Or I could text you. Doesn't matter."

   "Or," Arthur says, "we could ditch my friends and go get some fries, have that date now."

   Merlin blinks. "Well, I was hoping to treat you to something better than fast food french fries." He says, looking uncertain. Arthur leans in to kiss his enticing lips again, realizing that they were quickly becoming his new favourite thing.

   "You've already treated me better than anyone else ever has." Arthur says, blushing as he accidentally admits just a bit too much.

   "Well, I guess it can't get worse than a kiss in a back alley. All right, let's go." Merlin relents. Arthur tangles their fingers together as they leave the alley, shooting Morgana a text to say he's left. He ignores her reply, more content to just be with Merlin.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from disneyintrovert on Tumblr: Truth or dare canon au by the fire, probably heavily influenced by Gwaine.

   Being king was, frankly, exhausting. Caring for his people, that was easy. Continuing to train his knights was enjoyable. Listening to petitioners complain about nonsense, or having to actually pay attention to council meetings, unlike his younger days as Crown Prince, was painful. He felt twitchy by the end. He hated sitting still for long periods of time like that. Couldn’t understand how his father managed to do it for so long. Arthur was a warrior, through and through, and although he knew being king was more than just leading his army, he was much better with a sword than he was with court affairs. At least on the field, he didn’t have to fake it. 

   That was why he found himself riding through the forest, trusty manservant at his side, and a few of his most trusted knights following behind. That morning, when Merlin had so unceremoniously pulled him out of bed, quite literally, Arthur had informed the man to clear his schedule. He was going hunting instead. Merlin had spluttered indignantly, trying to tell him that he had important business to attend to that day, and that it really wasn’t that easy to just change the King’s plans at the drop of a hat, but Arthur had ignored him. He needed to get out of the castle for a bit, and he was the King. What was the point if he couldn’t just decide to take a day off every now and then? Merlin had left, muttering not so under his breath about working for a prat, and Arthur had smiled. Today, was going to be a much better day.

   As expected, the day is beautiful. The weather the previous night had been drab and grey, but the skies had cleared and promised a perfect day for a good hunt. A few white clouds drifted lazily across a crystal blue sky, the colour of which reminded Arthur of Merlin’s eyes. He shakes that thought from his head almost as soon as it pops into it. Observations such as these about his manservant had been creeping in with alarming frequency, and Arthur was starting to get paranoid that someone was going to notice. To compensate, he orders Merlin around the courtyard, having him check over all the Knight’s horses before letting any of them mount. Despite his frosty glares, Merlin obeys. He does, however, share a few whispered words with Sir Gwaine that makes the knight laugh, and Merlin smirk in the King’s direction. Arthur notices, how could he not when he kept such a close eye on the other man, and feels decidedly ruffled. He had always known that his knight and his manservant were close, but did they have to display it so openly? People might start making assumptions and asking questions.

   “If you’re at all ready, Merlin, I’d like to leave now.” He says, keeping his voice haughty and aloof. Gwaine almost glares at him, only settling when Merlin meets his eyes and shakes his head. Gwaine looks at his friend, then back at the King, and smiles to himself. Arthur feels... uncertain about the look. A smile like that on the Knight’s face usually only spelled trouble for anyone else involved. Still, he was the king. What could Sir Gwaine do to him, really?

   “Yes, Sire.” Merlin replies, somehow managing to make the title sound like an insult. Arthur would never understand how Merlin could always sound so insolent, even when he was trying to be submissive. It really was a talent. Or a gift. Or maybe a curse. Arthur never had decided which.

   “Good. Lets go then. We’re wasting daylight.” He replies curtly, already hooking his toe in the stirrup and swinging fluidly up onto the back of his stallion, Hengroen. The knights all mount up behind him, Merlin following suit. Metal shoes clattering on stone alerts Arthur to Merlin’s presence beside him. Arthur glances at him quickly, sees the small smile there reserved only for him. Sees the question in the other man’s eyes. ‘Are you okay?’

   Arthur nods again, not bothering with a verbal reply as he nudges his stallion’s sides, and leads the troupe out of the courtyard. He can feel the stress, the weight of ruling a kingdom, shed off his shoulders as they step out of the city. He feels free for the first time in weeks. Less like the king, and more like just himself. Just Arthur. He glances beside him and catches Merlin’s wide grin. His manservant had always had a knack for reading him, and now was no different. Merlin could easily see the easy grace with which he moved now, absent in the heart of city where he had an image to uphold at every second. Merlin liked this version of him, Arthur knew that. He was less abrupt when they were outside the city walls. More quick to smile, and less quick to throwing things at him. Although, the latter Arthur usually did out of... he guesses one could call it affection. In a way.

   “So, Princess.” Gwaine says from beside him. “Are we actually hunting, or was this just an elaborate scheme for you to let loose?”

   Arthur tries to scowl, wanting to look offended that his knight would assume such unkingly behaviour of him. “Of course we’re hunting, Gwaine. How else are we to eat tonight?”

   Merlin splutters from beside him. “Tonight? Arthur, you didn’t say anything about this being an overnight trip.”

   “Didn’t I?” Arthur asks, keeping his tone as uncaring as possible. He did, indeed, know that he hadn’t said a word of his actual plans to Merlin. If he had, the man surely would have protested even more, and Arthur honestly just didn’t want to deal with that.

   “No!” Merlin says indignantly, glaring at him ferociously. Arthur thinks he looks vaguely like an angry puppy. Or, well, more like one of the puppies in the kennels looks when they’re growling at each other, while also wagging their tails and tumbling through the grass and dirt as they play. And nope. Arthur wasn’t going there. He was going to compare Merlin to one of the puppies from the latest litter one of his hunting dogs had a handful of weeks ago. The puppies were cute. Merlin was... well, Merlin was Merlin.

   “Well, now you know.” He replies with an easy grin, the boyish one that he knows always makes Merlin give him whatever he pleases.

   “Arthur.” Merlin groans, ignoring Gwaine’s impish grin as he watches the two fight it out. “You’re the king, you can’t just disappear whenever you want to.”

   Arthur screws up his face. “Actually—“

   “No.” Merlin interrupts. “Absolutely not. We’re going back tonight.”

   Arthur now turns to look at Gwaine. He cocks his head to the side as he meets the man’s eyes. Gwaine looks back steadily. Then, he shifts to look behind them at Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Lancelot. They all look back with mild confusion and curiosity. They can no doubt hear Arthur and Merlin arguing ahead of them, but since the king and his manservant argue almost all the time, it’s not too big of a shock for them.

   “I think,” Arthur starts slowly, “that a nice, relaxing night out of the city, away from all our duties, could be good for morale. A little rest for all of us.”

   Merlin glowers. “A nice relaxing night? That sounds horrible.”

   Arthur barks out a laugh. “And why, pray tell, is that?”

   “Because while you lot are just relaxing, I’ll be busy doing all the work!” Merlin snaps. Arthur grins at him again, the same grin that he knows Merlin never refuses.

   “Well, someone needs to cook dinner and keep the camp running. Who better for the job?” He asks cheekily. Merlin opens his mouth to yell at him, no doubt, so Arthur kicks Hengroen forward, leading the group into a fast canter. He can feel Merlin’s glare on his back as he breaks away, and laughs. Yes, this was a very good idea.

   Once he feels like he’s far enough from Camelot, Arthur settles back into a comfortable walk. The knights and Merlin all pull back around him, smiles and, in Merlin case, exasperation, clear on their faces. The sun was slowly rising, warming them comfortably. Arthur knew that before long the heat would get nearly unbearable, being the height of summer. He signals them all to stop. If they were going to hunt, now would be the best time, while their potential quarry was up finding food and water to properly start their own mornings.

   “Merlin. Crossbow.” He instructs. He hears Merlin mutter under his breath, hears Lancelot stifle a soft laugh, but ignores it. A moment later, his crossbow is practically slapped into his hand. He grins at Merlin, knowing it’ll just irk him further, and definitely isn’t disappointed. “Thank you.”

   He swiftly dismounts, tying Hengroen’s reins to a nearby branch. “Merlin, you can stay here with the horses. The rest of you, we have lunch and dinner to catch.”

   “Wait, you’re all going and leaving me here?” Merlin asks. He doesn’t look afraid, but he does look decidedly unhappy with being saddled with seven horses to look after all by himself.

   “What’s the matter, Merlin? A few horses too much for you to handle?” Arthur teases. Merlin clamps his jaws shut and glares. Arthur grins back, knowing he’s won. Without waiting for a reply, he turns and starts leading the knights into the trees farther on foot. Merlin keeps muttering rude things at his back as he leaves him behind, and he grins wider. Yes, today was already a good day.

~~~

   “You know,” Gwaine starts conversationally some hours later, “I once met a couple in a tavern in... let’s say Mercia. Fought like cats and dogs. Two of the most dedicated people to each other that I ever met, though. Loved each other more than life itself.”

   Arthur quirks an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

   Merlin side eyes them from where he’s busy setting up a fire. The sun had already reached its highest point, and was now starting to recede from the sky. Soon, the blue hues above them would turn to pinks, and oranges, and golds. They were no longer remind Arthur of Merlin’s eyes, and yet, the sunset sky still somehow reminded him of his manservant. He could just never really put his finger on why. 

   “Yes. They always say opposites attract, you know? Sometimes you just need a push to figure out that the one making you want to rip your hair out, is actually the one you’re supposed to be with.” Gwaine adds nonchalantly.

   A sudden choke makes Arthur glance up sharply. Merlin is coughing into the crook of his elbow, eyes watering slightly. Arthur wants to ask him what the problem is, but holds his tongue. Gwaine, however, grins at the other man’s reaction. Merlin tries to glare back, but the whole effect gets ruined by another hacking breath.

   Ripping his gaze away from his manservant, who has gotten his breathing a little more under control now (not that Arthur was actually worried, of course not), he asks, “Is there a point to this story, Sir Gwaine? Or is this more of your inane chatter?”

   Gwaine merely grins, refusing to properly answer. Arthur feels himself frown slightly. A grin like that, again, usually spelled trouble for whoever was on the receiving end. Still, he looks away, intent on pretending like he doesn’t actually care. He glances at Merlin again, who has by now gotten the fire going, but is shifting almost nervously on the spot, refusing to look at his friend. Which is odd. Usually by now, Merlin and Gwaine would be egging each other on. Feeding off the other’s energy until Arthur wanted to just walk away.

   “Doesn’t matter, Princess.” Gwaine says offhandedly. “Come on, Merls. Once you have dinner ready, I brought dessert.” Out of his bag, he impossibly pulls two sealed jugs of mead. Arthur stares at them, half wanting to ask how he got them here, but also half wanting to just not know. Merlin eyes them equally as suspiciously, but nods his head. As he turns back to the fire, Gwaine meets Arthur’s eyes and gives him a wicked grin. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, then smoothly rises to his feet and walks away. Arthur watches him go with trepidation starting to tingle down his spine. Maybe today wouldn’t be such a good day after all.

~~~

   Merlin had left with their various dishes to wash them in the stream he swore was nearby. Arthur was sceptical, as he hadn’t heard any running water, but let him go anyway, telling him to shout if he needed help. Merlin had given him a cheeky grin and informed him that he, despite being king, really wouldn’t be much help with washing out a pot. Arthur had thrown a stick at him, then watched him walk off between the trees, arms laden with dirty dishes. He watched until the night swallowed him up, then kept looking. He always felt unsettled whenever Merlin went off on his own like that. Especially at night.

   The fire crackles merrily beside him, his knights settled around it in a roughly shaped circle. There’s an empty spot reserved for Merlin, in between Arthur and Lancelot. Gwaine sits across from the King, and is continuing to give him borderline maniacal grins. Arthur feels himself get more and more uneasy as the minutes tick by. Seriously, where was Merlin? He always seems to be the only one who can handle Gwaine at any given time. 

   A crash sounds in the trees nearby, and Arthur’s hand immediately heads for his sword, laying on the ground beside him. His knights all tense, hands reaching for various weaponry, but then Gwaine guffaws, and everyone else relaxes. Arthur twists around to look behind him into the forest, and there’s Merlin, sheepishly picking up what used to be clean dishes, leaves and dirt in his dark hair. Arthur’s lips quirk up into a smile as Merlin meets his eyes, and he’s worried that his face looks horribly fond. Merlin doesn’t give any indication, though, just continues to smile back bashfully as he collects the things he dropped when he tripped. Once everything is back in his arms, he carries them to where they left the horses tethered. He packs them away with little care, they were dirty again already anyway, then turns back to look at the group of men assembled around the fire he started.

   Gwaine gestures to his reserved spot, which Arthur had absolutely nothing to do with. “Take a seat, Merls. We were just about to break out the good stuff.” 

   Merlin eyes the sealed jugs again, his uncertainty flickering across his face and betraying his real thoughts on the idea. At least to Arthur, anyway. Still, he obediently moves to sit next to Arthur. The King resolutely doesn’t think about how his manservant sits a little closer to him than to Lancelot.

   “Now, a nice night like this, after a successful day hunting, requires more than just some celebratory mead.” Gwaine says. The group chuckles, except for Arthur who studies them with intent interest. He rarely got to see this side of his men.

   It’s Elyan who pipes up with, “How about truth or dare?”

   Arthur can’t help but silently roll his eyes at the suggestion. He was well aware of the game, as he and Morgana had played it often when they were younger. It had always landed them in trouble, whether it be with his father or one of the various maids tasked with their care. It was a child’s game. Nothing more. However, he was agreeable to his men letting off some steam, and making mildly poor choices, as long as they didn’t take it too far. He leans back against the fallen log he had nonverbally taken as his own, and looks away.

   The knights are all agreeable to Elyan’s suggestion, as is Merlin. They start tamely enough, simple truths that end in lewd stories (that Arthur is sure are not entirely true) on Gwaine’s part, and flustered replies from the others. Dares are tamer still, trying handstands or jumping over the flickering flames in the makeshift fire pit. Arthur let’s himself zone out slightly, watching, but also not. His men are enjoying themselves, and he felt at peace and relaxed for the first time in weeks. 

   He doesn’t come back to the present until he feels slender fingers tap his arm insistently. He follows the fingers to a hand, up an arm, and into Merlin’s face. He blinks. Looking around, he sees all his men staring intently at him. He blinks again. Had he missed something?

   “Uhm.” He says, and Merlin grins. The King can practically read the man’s jibe of ‘eloquent as usual’ written across his face. “Yes?”

   Leon grins politely. “I believe you were asked truth or dare.”

   The King flounders for a moment. He honestly hadn’t expected his men to include him in their game. He looks around at the men again, and they are all looking back seriously. A glance at Merlin tells him that even he expected a response from their sovereign.

   “Uh, truth, I suppose.” Arthur says, hoping it’s the safer option. When Gwaine grins savagely in his direction, he begins to see that maybe there is no safe option here.

   “Alright. Truth it is. Who here would you rather have a good snog with?” Gwaine says.

   Arthur’s jaw drops involuntarily. That was a bit personal, wasn’t it? Besides, who says he’d even want to kiss anyone gathered here. He looks around at his men, hoping to see some kind of... pity maybe, but finds none. They all appear to want an answer. Even Merlin, the traitor.

   “I’m the King, I don’t have to answer that.” He says haughtily, but he can still hear the slight quiver in his voice as images of full lips against his rush to the surface. He avoids looking at Merlin until the thoughts recede back to where they came from.

   Gwaine pouts. “Don’t be like that, Princess. You’re among friends!”

   The King opens his mouth to say something snappy in reply, when Merlin says, “Come on guys, you know how private Arthur is about his love life. Leave him alone.”

   Arthur looks at him in shock. A moment ago Merlin had expected an answer, but like the best friend he was, he had jumped to Arthur’s rescue. Arthur could kiss him he was so grateful. He immediately stamps down on that thought, shoving it aside where no one could ever find it. He gives Merlin a grateful smile, but it slips when Merlin smirks at him.

   “Besides, we all know it’d be Lancelot. He is the noblest of us all, isn’t he?” Merlin’s words have Arthur staring at him in something akin to betrayal. Did Merlin seriously think that? When he makes no move to reply, or refute his manservant’s words, the rest of the group laughs. Lancelot sends him a smile, but he can see the question in the man’s eyes. Almost like he’s asking why he let Merlin lie for him. Arthur feels taken aback, wrong-footed, trying to figure out how his knight could possibly have seen the truth that’s safely locked away inside Arthur’s head.

   The game carries on, and Arthur once again finds his mind slipping elsewhere. This time, it inevitably drifts to Merlin. He always did his best to hide these thoughts when he was around other people, Merlin especially, but that question had thrown him. He felt oddly exposed, when nothing of consequence had actually been said. He is once again torn from his thoughts, this time by his name being called.

   He startles and looks up to meet six pairs of expectant eyes again. “Oh bugger it.” He mutters under his breath. “Fine. I know what you want, and you’ll get it. Dare.”

   Uncertainty burns in his gut as five of those six faces huddle as close together as they can. Merlin looks at them, eyebrows raised in amusement. When the knights all sit back, Gwaine is grinning manically again, Lancelot looks satisfied, Leon looks like all his suffering is about to end, and Percival and Elyan look curious as what is about to happen. None of these expressions sit well with the King.

   Naturally, it’s Gwaine who opens his mouth and says the words that leave Arthur feeling like he’s been knocked over the head. “We dare you to kiss Merlin.”

   “You can’t be serious.” Arthur wheezes slightly. He can feel Merlin’s eyes on him, but refuses to look his way. Not yet. 

   “Very.” Percival says, and Arthur shoots him a wounded look. Betrayed. He’s been betrayed by his best knights. Damn it all to hell. He can’t very well say no, though, can he? Backing down from such a challenge would make him appear weak. What if word got back to his people? No, he unfortunately had to do this.

   Reluctantly, he forces his eyes in Merlin’s direction. The man is looking at him, unreadable expression on his face. Arthur swallows thickly, unsure how exactly to proceed. He makes sure he has Merlin’s full attention, meeting his eyes as he tilts his head slightly in question. He gets an almost imperceptible nod back in return. Merlin was okay with this. It wouldn’t ruin anything. Nothing between them would change. Merlin would still be the closest friend he’s ever had, even after this. He swallows again nervously, and curses himself. He was the King. He wasn’t supposed to get nervous.

   “Come on, Your Highness.” Gwaine goads, and Arthur shoots him a nasty look. Steeling himself, and sending a silent prayer up to whoever may be listening, he shifts closer to Merlin until their thighs are pressed close. Merlin looks up at him, eyes soft, and lips undoubtedly softer. He flicks his tongue out, wetting said lips, and Arthur’s eyes track the movement. A spark of something flares to life in his chest, and he reaches a slightly shaky hand up to cup Merlin’s cheek. Merlin doesn’t move a muscle as Arthur studies his face, eyes flicking over every feature until they again land on his slightly parted lips. They look glossy in the firelight, shadows flickering over his face and pronouncing his sharp cheekbones even more. He’s honestly never looked more ethereal than he does in this very moment, and Arthur can’t help but lean in. Dare or not, his body wanted to taste that enticing mouth.

   A shiver runs through Arthur’s body as their lips touch softly. He hears Merlin’s breath hitch slightly, feels a hand land on his lower back, out of sight of the rest of the group, and the touch spurs Arthur on. He presses his lips closer, opening them just slightly against Merlin’s, and feeling the moisture on his lower lip. It sets his head spinning, and without thinking, he reaches a hand up to curl into the hair on the back of Merlin’s head, holding him steady as he kisses him with more purpose. Merlin melts against him, matching the movement of the King’s lips with his own. As Arthur’s lips open again, completely of their own volition, Merlin does the same, sneaking his tongue forward to tease at Arthur’s. The feeling startles a groan from the King, and he immediately pulls back, cheeks flushing red. 

   “It’s about damn time.” He hears someone mutter. It could’ve been Leon, but he can’t really tell. His ears are ringing slightly, and his body is thrumming with so much energy that he can no longer sit still. Letting go of his grip on Merlin’s dark locks, he swiftly gets to his feet and half stumbles away from the fire. His heart is pounding in his chest, reverberating around inside his skull, as he thinks about what just happened. His sole focus is on the feeling of Merlin’s soft lips sliding willingly against his, a warm tongue teasing his own.

   “Arthur?” A soft voice makes his legs stop moving. Now that he’s motionless, he can tell that they’re shaking. The voices from around the fire are distant now. He hadn’t known that he had moved so far away from their camp. Turning his head, he spots Merlin, looking at him from a few paces away, uncertain.

   “I’m sorry, Merlin. That went a little further than I had intended.” He says, feeling oddly breathless. To his surprise, Merlin smiles at him.

   “Trust you to apologize for the one thing I don’t want you to.” The man retorts, and Arthur stares at him stupidly. What? Merlin gives him a crooked smile.

   “What do you mean?” Arthur asks, voice strained. Merlin chuckles fondly.

   “You always have been a bit thick, haven’t you?” He asks, shaking his head almost pityingly.

   “Hey!” Arthur splutters indignantly.

   Merlin steps closer until they’re only an arms length apart. “It’s no secret that I’ve been in love with you for years.” When Arthur chokes, Merlin adds, “Well, to no one but you, apparently.”

   Arthur stares at him mutely for a moment. He had to have heard that wrong. Why would Merlin, of all people, be in love with him? He was always ordering him around, throwing things at him, hurling insults his way whenever he felt the desire to see him scowl in his direction. Teasing Merlin, riling him up, was one of his favourite pastimes, and while he did do it out of misplaced affection, he never once thought about what Merlin may be feeling as well.

   “You’re in love with me?” He asks, needing to verify that particular thought. Merlin nods, eyes starting to look... worried. Arthur wouldn’t stand for that, so he steps closer, closing the short distance between them, and lifts his hands to bury his fingers back into Merlin’s soft locks as he kisses him again. No dare needed this time. Merlin whimpers slightly hands coming up to grip at his tunic, trying to pull him even closer. Arthur allows himself to get manhandled wherever Merlin wanted him, losing himself in finally being allowed this. He never thought he’d get this. Not with Merlin.

   When he pulls away, Merlin is breathless and looks dazed. Arthur smiles at him, knowing his expression is once again horribly fond and soppy. He leans in again, this time to gently nuzzle Merlin’s nose with his own. From there, he rests their foreheads together.

   “I love you, too.” He breathes softly into the air around them, slowly growing chillier as the time gets later. He almost feels more than sees Merlin smile. He’s rewarded with a chaste press of lips to his. He has to force himself not to chase after Merlin’s mouth as he retreats. When they can properly meet eyes again, Merlin’s are brimming with affection, and Arthur wonders how he had ever missed it before. He smiles back.

   When they return to the fire, hand in hand, no one says anything. The game has moved on, and the mead is all gone. Everyone is pleasantly warm and tired, and soon they all start to retire for the night. If Merlin and Arthur settle down closer than they ever have before, snuggled close enough to practically share one bedroll, no one comments on it.

   Arthur decides he had been right the first time. Today really was the best day of all.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from KYAAAA on AO3: A scene in which Merlin is just so fed up with Arthur he pins him against the wall. (I don’t know if this is quite what you had in mind, but it’s what came out when I started typing. I hope you enjoy it!!)

   Merlin had always known that Arthur was a bit of a prat. How could he not when his first impression of the Prince was the blond throwing knives at his poor servant at the time? While Arthur did have a softer side to him, he usually had his figurative armour on. The mask he always had to wear thanks to his father. He tended to come off as aloof, inconsiderate, and haughty. While Merlin had seen glimpses behind said armour, he was struggling to remember why he had ever believed it ever existed in the first place.

   Cedric had been bad news from the start. Merlin had seen that, had tried to warn Arthur, and he had gotten nothing in return. Well, nothing but being brushed off and nearly replaced. He knew better than to expect the Prince to admit that he had been wrong. He even knew better than to expect him to say thank you. He sometimes did say that, just not as often as Merlin would like. All he wanted, really, was for Arthur to tell him that maybe he wasn’t such an idiot after all. All he got for his troubles was a verbal beat down about his behaviour for the past couple of days, a warning to never do it again, and a list of chores as long as he was tall to top it all off. 

   To say he was merely ruffled and disgruntled was an understatement. Truth be told, he was exhausted. Defeating Sigan, and therefore Cedric, had taken a lot out of him. At the time, adrenaline had fuelled his actions. He had kept going purely on instinct, and the need to keep Arthur safe. Once it was all done, a deep rooted feeling of being tired settled in his bones, the likes of which he had never felt before. He had been hoping for a chance to rest. Instead, he received barely a couple hours of sleep, and then a lecture, followed by this. At that very moment, he wondered why he had ever bothered to save Arthur’s sorry, royal backside at all.

   A noise from the doorway makes Merlin look up. Gwen is silhouetted in the doorway, giving him a sympathetic smile. He smiles back, grateful that his friend had come to check on him. He was currently bent over the floor, washing the stone until it shone. It was only a few items down his list of chores and his back was already protesting.

   “Hello, Merlin.” Gwen says as she slips inside, after a quick look over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming.

   “Hey, Gwen.” He replies, dropping his rag into the soapy bucket with a splash. “How’s your day going?”

   Gwen chuckles softly. “Much better than yours, I’m sure. Morgana never assigns me such petty tasks.” She smiles apologetically, and Merlin shrugs in reply.

   “S’all right. Not like I was expecting anything different, really.” His words make Gwen cock her head to the side, eyes curious, and Merlin internally winces. He often wishes that Gaius would allow him to confide in his friend. It would make these little slips of the tongue easier to deal with.

   Footsteps down the hall draw their attention, and Gwen backs toward the door. She shoots him another apologetic smile, but Merlin waves her off. They both knew it would look odd for Gwen to be lingering in Arthur’s chambers, even if Merlin was here as her reason for doing so. It would look equally as odd, or even suspicious, for her to be seen leaving his chambers alone. As the footsteps draw nearer, she opens the door and ducks out. The door closes shut behind her softly, and Merlin reluctantly fishes in the bucket for his rag. With a sigh, he squeezes some of the excess water out onto the floor, then starts back to scrubbing. He seems to recall Arthur saying he wanted the floor clean enough to eat off of. As if His Royal Highness would ever stoop so low. 

   The footsteps grow louder, and for one moment Merlin is worried that it’s Arthur returning, but then they pass by the heavy wooden doors and keep going. Probably a guard on duty. Merlin sighs again and swishes the rag back and forth, eyeing his limited progress so far. He had a long way to go.

   The longer he stays hunched over the floor, arms starting to ache, the more his anger from before settles in his gut. How dare Arthur nearly throw him away, just to waltz back and demand his service like nothing had happened. Honestly, he is done letting the Prince do whatever he pleases, station be damned.

   “You almost finished yet?” Arthurs voice from the doorway makes Merlin jump. His teeth set on edge as he focuses on the floor, ignoring the man at the door. He hears Arthur huff at being ignored, but doesn’t make a move to acknowledge him. Let him see how it feels. He lets his anger simmer, content for now to merely continue on with his chores like Arthur wasn’t even there.

   “Oh, come on. You’re not still upset about Cedric, are you?” Arthur asks, advancing into the room, and crossing the freshly washed floors that Merlin had just slaved over. Granted, he wasn’t done yet, but Arthur didn’t know that. Yet again, here he was, striding across Merlin’s hard work without even a single thought for the man himself. It sets his teeth further on edge.

   When Merlin fails to reply yet again, Arthur crosses to his desk, sitting down heavily as he mutters, “My god, you are such a girl. Morgana is less broody than this.”

   Merlin snaps his head up, eyes latching onto the Prince. He could turn him into a toad, right now, and he wouldn’t regret it for a second. Even if Arthur decided to chop his head off once he was returned to his pratty prince form, he could at least die with a smile on his face. He can practically see the holes he’s burning into the side of Arthur’s head, and hurriedly drops his face back to the floor. No sense in accidentally setting the Crown Prince of Camelot on fire.

   “Merlin.” Arthur’s voice makes Merlin reluctantly look up.

   “Yes, Sire?” He asks as petulantly as he can manage. Arthur looks over at him then, a glare on his face. It was a warning, that Merlin needed to back off before he landed himself in even hotter water. Merlin never heeded warnings well, and continues to glare right back.

   “When you’re done there, I would like a bath drawn.” The Prince says it so casually that Merlin again contemplates making him a toad. Perhaps he could think of something even worse. A rat maybe. Or a dung beetle. That would suit His Royal Pratness quite well.

   “A bath?” He repeats. Arthur furrows his brow further, and nods. Merlin drops his head to hang between his arms, still pressed against the hard stone and supporting his body, and groans. “You can’t be serious.”

   He hears Arthur huff again, but doesn’t bother looking up. Let the Prince throw his little power play tantrums. He was too bodily tired to care.

   “Yes, Merlin, if it’s not too much trouble for your delicate build. I would like a bath after a hard morning’s work on the training field. Not that you were even there to help, mind you.” Arthur retorts. Merlin looks up at him, fully aware that his mouth was hanging open. Arthur could not be serious right now.

   “I wasn’t there to help? And who’s fault is that?” Merlin splutters indignantly once he’s found his voice. Arthur narrows his eyes threateningly. Merlin barely even blinks at the frosty look.

   “Merlin,” Arthur starts, voice low, “need I remind you that you are my servant? It’s your job to do as I ask.”

   “Do as you ask?” Merlin repeats, anger riling up further in his chest. The consequences of magicking Arthur into something else were becoming less and less of a deterrent. He had saved the Prince’s life, again. Was a little acknowledgement for his work really that insane to ask for? Or at least a day off?

   Arthur purses his lips, eyes fiery. “Yes.”

   A snort involuntarily leaves Merlin as he shakes his head. “More like demand.” He mutters, going back to his scrubbing and trying his best to ignore Arthur’s existence altogether. It doesn’t work, though, as Arthur rises to his feet and stalks over. Rough hands grab at his tunic, hauling him to his feet so master and servant are eye to eye, both glaring ferociously.

   “What?” Merlin snaps. 

   “Need I also remind you that you’re currently being punished for your behaviour as of late?” Arthur says, tight lipped and irritated. Merlin’s scowl deepens.

   “Oh, of course. I save your life and get punished for it. Maybe I’ll just let you die next time.” He snaps, knowing full well that he doesn’t mean a word of it. He would never knowingly leave Arthur in danger, and he knew that. There was a small issue of... attraction involved. But it was more than that, too. As much as Merlin fought it, his attraction toward the prat currently curling fists into his tunic had shifted into the realm of actual affection at some point. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when he had developed these pesky feelings for the Crown Prince of Camelot, but he mourned that day heavily. His life would be much easier if he had simply stayed a servant. Not a servant in love with his master.

   Arthur raises his eyebrows. “You saved my life? That’s laughable at best, Merlin.”

   “Ungrateful git.” Merlin mutters, not even caring that Arthur is close enough to catch his words. The Prince’s expression darkens, and Merlin feels a curl in his stomach. He had pushed a little too far, and he knew that. Still, he didn’t exactly regret his words. If Arthur got mad enough, maybe he would send him away, not wanting his servant to be in his sight. Of course, “sending him away” usually meant a trip to the stocks, but at least he wouldn’t have to clean the Prince’s disgusting socks down there. His back was already sore from what little of the floor he had washed, combined with his showdown with a very powerful sorcerer. How much worse could the stocks really make it?

   “Watch your tongue, Merlin.” Arthur warns. “Or it’ll be a trip to the cells instead of the stocks.”

   The warning was meant to cow Merlin into obedience, but all it does is make his frustration flare brighter and hotter. He desperately wanted Arthur to appreciate him, and what he did day and night to keep him alive. He wanted Arthur to look at him, and really see him. He was tired of running after his friend (although he sometimes used that term very loosely, like right now), doing all the work while Arthur got all the credit. He keeps his mouth shut, though, the voice in the back of his mind, that always sounded suspiciously like Gaius, telling him to wait. To be patient. The Prince wasn’t quite ready to hear the truth yet.

   Merlin huffs out a disgruntled sigh. “Naturally. After all, I’m just the toy that you pick up when you’re bored, and throw away when I stop being the thing that holds your attention.” He snaps the words harshly, relishing in the brief look of shock that flashes across Arthur’s face.

   The Prince opens his mouth, words ready to tumble out, then changes his mind and snaps his jaws closed with an audible click. Merlin can see the punishment for his words already brewing in the other man’s eyes, and almost deflates. But not quite. Honestly, his impromptu reprimand of the Prince had felt... not good per se, but necessary. Right. Like he had spoken at least an ounce of truth, and the pressure in his chest had lessened.

   He feels Arthur hands clench harder around his clothes, and knows that Arthur is about to haul him out of his chambers and down to the cells, just as he had threatened. Before he even has the chance, Merlin closes his eyes, pulling on his magic just enough to give him the strength to overpower the Prince, then shoves him backwards. Arthur’s hands still holding fistfuls of his tunic end up pulling him along, and he ends up tumbling them backwards into the wall, where he pins the Prince with his hands on the man’s shoulders. Arthur opens his mouth indignantly, ready to verbally lash out at him, so Merlin does what he needs to do. He shifts his grip on Arthur’s shoulder to instead press his right hand flat against his chest to keep him pinned, and uses his left to cover the man’s mouth, effectively cutting off anything the Prince might have been about to hurl his way. He nods, satisfied, secretly loving the feeling of his magic coursing through his veins and helping him pin the prat against the wall.

   Arthur glares back at him, silenced, and equal parts angry and shocked that Merlin had a managed to overpower him at all. Merlin takes a deep breath, using the moment to try and organize his thoughts. He truly hadn’t quite intended for this to happen, exactly, but he was going to use the opportunity presented to him to try and make Arthur just listen, for once in his life. However, as he slowly realizes what he had just done, the closeness he and Arthur were sharing, and the mildly compromising position in which they shared it, his thoughts derail.

   Snapping his eyes up to meet Arthur’s again, he readies a flimsy explanation. The words die in his throat long before they even reach his mouth, however, when he takes in the Prince’s face. There’s a soft flush to his cheeks, tinting the skin a pleasant pink. Merlin had seen Arthur flushed from exertion before, on many occasions, but never had he looked quite this delicate. His eyes, though, are what capture Merlin’s attention the most, because they are no longer looking back at him reproachfully. Instead, they are decidedly fixated on Merlin lips, mere inches from his own. 

   As if sensing Merlin’s full attention, Arthur snaps his eyes back up to meet his, almost looking guilty. Definitely looking caught out and slightly panicked. Merlin opens his mouth slightly, but closes it again when no words come out. His tongue peeks out past his lips, running uncertainly along the bottom one. Arthur’s eyes follow the movement before snapping back up to Merlin’s eyes instead. His pupils have dilated slightly, the blue of his eyes slowly being swallowed up by black. Merlin’s heart stutters in his chest before setting up a pounding rhythm beneath his ribcage. 

  Slowly, as if dealing with a frightened and wounded animal that he doesn’t want to scare off, Merlin lowers the hand covering Arthur’s mouth. Arthur’s ragged breathing fills the space between them, more audible now that Merlin’s hand wasn’t muffling the sound slightly. Merlin expects a fight, now that he only has one hand holding the Prince back, but Arthur seems to have gone almost boneless, leaning back against the wall out of his own free will, seemingly content to let Merlin hold him wherever he wants. Merlin’s heart stutters again as Arthur eyes slip back down to his lips. And stay there.

   Merlin had long ago accepted the fact that his attraction to the Prince was one sided. Any feelings he may have developed over time were unquestionably unrequited. He had woken up every morning and told himself that. It was the only way he could get through hauling the man out of bed and dressing him without practically swallowing his tongue every time. The heat currently residing in Arthur’s eyes, took every one of those previous thoughts and chucked them out the proverbial window.

   Slowly, very slowly, so as to give Arthur the chance to stop him should he want to, Merlin leans in. He lets their noses brush together first, shivering as Arthur exhales heavily over his mouth. A tingle runs up and down his spine, feeling not unlike his magic, but wholly different at the same time. He pauses where he is, feeling stuck in that fraction of time, unsure if he should proceed or not. Another shaky exhale, barely concealing a soft whine from deep in the Prince’s chest, is all it takes for Merlin to fall forward completely, finally, finally, learning what Arthur’s lips feel like when they were pressed against his own.

   To his surprise, Arthur responds immediately and enthusiastically. He groans almost helplessly as Arthur kisses him back with a fervour, hands loosening their hold on his tunic and instead travelling low to his hips, pressing hard enough to potentially leave bruises. Merlin pulls back with a soft gasp, not expecting Arthur’s reaction at all. Dark eyes are looking back at him as he lets his own flutter open. 

   “I—“ He says, still slightly unsure how this had even happened. Arthur tilts his head a little to the side, reminding Merlin of the inquisitive puppies down in the Royal kennels. He bites his lower lip, holding back a fond smile at the thought, and meets Arthur’s eyes unflinchingly. 

   “You know,” Arthur says, voice rough and unlike Merlin had ever heard it before, “if this is how you’re going to handle our disagreements from now on, I might just have to rile you up on more occasions.”

   Merlin rolls his eyes, pushing back as far as Arthur’s grip on his hips will allow. “You’re the absolute worst, you know that?”

   Arthur sobers immediately. “I know, and I’m sorry, Merlin. I’ve been unfair to you, and that was wrong of me. I should’ve listened to you about Cedric, and I shouldn’t’ve taken my frustrations with myself at trusting the man out on you.”

   Merlin gapes at him. Sure, he had always wanted to hear Arthur say those words to him, but he had never really expected him to. He was unsure how to even really process them. Before he can really think of a proper response, however, Arthur continues.

   “I want you to know that I do trust you, Merlin. Your opinion and judgement on matters has been helpful and almost invaluable in the past. Even when I don’t show it, I do rely on you.” Arthur can’t quite look in him the eyes as he says the words, feeling too vulnerable with the truth in them to feel comfortable enough to project them as confidently as he usually would.

   Again, Merlin feels blindsided. He can’t think of a halfway decent verbal reply, so he just presses back in and kisses the Prince softly on the mouth. Arthur relaxes immediately into the embrace, and Merlin can practically feel the tension and stress flood from his body. 

   “Does this mean that I can have a day off?” He asks. As much as he appreciates Arthur finally acknowledging him, and his efforts when it came to their fights against the latest threat to Camelot, he knows they’ll both be more comfortable once they get back to their usual back and forth bantering.

   As predicted, Arthur scoffs. “Not a chance. Only competent servants get days off, I’m afraid.”

   Merlin grins at his words. “Fine. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for company all day long.”

   The flush on Arthur’s cheeks deepens, turning a more red colour than their previous tasteful pink. “A punishment for us both, I’m afraid.”

   A laugh bubbles up in Merlin’s throat, escaping his mouth as he crinkles his eyes with a delighted smile. Arthur smiles back, it slipping past his defences, though he tries to hold it in. Merlin is still laughing softly as Arthur claims his lips again. Yes, Arthur was a prat, but he was Merlin’s prat, and he loved him. Some day, maybe even soon, he’d be able to tell Arthur that. He’d be able to tell Arthur everything.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from Silvermoon19 on AO3: Anything stupidly soft that has to do with a coffee shop, a library, or a museum. (I hope this does the trick for you!!)

   Arthur remembers very clearly the day he met him. He and Leon had gone out to their usual cafe, gotten their usual drinks, and sat at their usual table. Their usual barista, Percy, had helped them with his usual bright smile and sparkling eyes. What wasn't usual was Leon pointing out, as they sat down, that Arthur’s hand was clutched around a medium cup instead of a large. They had been so engrossed in their conversation that Arthur hadn't even noticed the man handing him the wrong size. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. When things got crazy busy, he sometimes mixed up a few things. It was never a big deal, and he was always very apologetic about it, generally dropping whatever he was doing to make Arthur, or Leon, a new one.

   With a sigh, Arthur pushes his chair back and gets to his feet, informing his best friend that he would be right back. Leon smiles with a good natured eye roll. As Arthur makes his way back to the counter, he notices that Percy is gone. In his place is a man with raven black hair and what should've been the most ridiculous ears, with his back currently to the cafe as he wiped down one of the cappuccino machines.

   "Hey, sorry, but I ordered a large." Arthur says, lifting his coffee cup and placing it down in view. The man turns at his voice and Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. He looks roughly Arthur’s age, but that's basically where any and all similarities end. He has soft looking porcelain skin, cheekbones that could cut glass, and the most shocking blue eyes Arthur has ever seen. He looks down at the to-go cup and picks it up into his hands. 

   "What did you order?" He asks, finally properly looking into Arthur’s eyes. Arthur think his insides melt at the eye contact. 

   "Uhm, I, uh, uhm..." The man quirks an eyebrow and Arthur blushes in embarrassment. "A large coffee, with two cream and two vanilla bean flavour shots." The man nods and turns his back to refill Arthur’s order.

   Arthur chances a look behind himself at Leon, and finds him watching the exchange and snickering. He flips him off, but quickly turn back as he hears the drop dead, ludicrously gorgeous barista clear his throat. He once again blushes red as his meet the man’s amused eyes. 

   “Oh, uh, sorry. Th-thanks." Arthur’s eyes widen in horror. He can tell that the man is fighting back a laugh, and honesty wishes that the God he isn’t really sure that he believes in would just strike him dead right then and there. "Oh, God." He groans, now taking his large coffee and slinking away, but not before trying to discreetly read the man’s name tag. Merlin.

   Leon bursts out laughing as Arthur sits down and immediately buries his face in his arms on the table. "Smooth, mate. So smooth." Leon chortles. 

   Arthur merely groans, not even bothering to tell him off. In this moment, all he wants to do is die. Or at least disappear. 

   "Please tell me that he isn't looking at me." Arthur pleads, voice muffled from where his face is still safely hidden. 

   Leon snorts before replying, "Sorry. Can't do that. I can lie if you like." 

   Arthur reluctantly sits up and throws a look over his shoulder, immediately looking back at his best friend when his eyes lock with the other man’s for a split second. 

   "Please kill me." Arthur groans. Leon just laughs harder.

~~~

   For the next week Arthur tries to find him again, to no avail. It seems that no matter when he goes to the cafe, Merlin is working a different shift. If he goes in for morning coffee, then Merlin is working the afternoon or evening shift. If he goes in at four o'clock, then he's already off for the day. He once tries to cover both, and goes in twice, only to find out that Merlin apparently had, had the day off entirely. It isn't until nine days after his complete disaster of a first impression that he gets a chance to try and redeem himself.

   His heart and his stomach both jump as he catches sight of that heavenly mop of black hair though the cafe's windows. Merlin looks up as the small bell above the door rings as Arthur pushes the door open and steps inside. Recognition seems to spark in his eyes as Arthur walks toward the counter. He smiles as Arthur comes to a halt. Looking up at the menu, Arthur pretends to think about what he wants, as if he wasn't just going to order what he did all the time. However, his eyes are pulled down to Merlin as he hears his angelic voice for the first time in nine days.

   "Large coffee with two cream and two vanilla bean shots?" Arthur looks at him with wide eyes and Merlin giggles. Arthur swears that he almost faints at the sound. "You make an impression." Merlin informs him, trying to get control of his laughter and be professional. Arthur can feel his blood rush to his face. Merlin remembers him. 

   ‘Oh God, he thinks of me as the stupid customer that struggles to sling two coherent words together in a simple sentence.’ Arthur thinks despondently. Before he can actually reply, though, Merlin is already busying himself with making Arthur’s drink. Arthur thinks his stomach falls out of his arse as Merlin turns back and slides the drink over to him with a grin on his face. He has the most beautiful smile that Arthur has, hands down, ever seen. 

   “On the house, Cutie." Merlin tells him, shooting him a wink before going back to wiping down the counters with a yellow rag.

~~~

   The next time Arthur sees him, he’s with his sister, Morgana. As Merlin glances up and sees Arthur walking through the cafe doors, he immediately smiles, then quickly schools his expression back to bored. Arthur watches him punch something into the till before looking up at Arthur’s slightly older sister. Morgana hums before finally ordering a peppermint mocha with a double espresso shot. Merlin nods, adding it to the order, then tells them the total. Morgana looks surprised, and points at Arthur beside her.

   "Uhm, he wanted something, too. A lar-" But she gets cut off by Merlin himself. 

   "A large coffee with two cream and two vanilla bean flavour shots? I already got it." Morgana raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and looks over at her brother. Arthur tries to look innocent, but he already knows that he is unfortunately blushing like crazy.

   Thankfully, Morgana lets it slide, for the moment, as she pulls out her debit card and pays for their drinks. It's her turn this time, after all.

   As she’s putting her card back into her wallet, Merlin asks, "Names?" Morgana glances at Arthur from the corner of her eye before focusing her attention back on the barista behind the counter. 

   "I'm Morgana, and my handsome, and conveniently single, younger brother here is Arthur." Arthur’s mouth drops open as Merlin’s eyes flick to him and a smirk breaks out across his face.

   "Okay." Is all he says. Morgana turns to look at Arthur triumphantly, not even flinching as Arthur glares back at her ferociously. Arthur keep his mouth shut until Merlin returns with their drinks and hands them over with another wink in Arthur’s direction.

   "What the hell was that?" He demands as he leads Morgana to the table farthest from the counter. Morgana tries to look innocent. 

   "What was what?" She asks. Arthur wants to reach across the table and smack her, but he manages to resist the urge. Barely. Instead, he opts for a very unimpressed look, and giving her a well placed and discreet kick to the shin under the table. Morgana hisses in pain and pulls her legs closer to herself. 

   “Try to help my brother out and this is the thanks I get?" She grumps. Arthur sighs with exasperation. 

   "Help with what?" He demands, still unbearably unimpressed with her. She smirks and gestures to his cup. 

   "Take a look for yourself." She tells him smugly. Confused, Arthur turns his cup around to inspect the other side. His eyes widen as he reads what Merlin had written on the side.

'Arthur, give me a call sometime -Merlin.'  

   It's followed by about three 'xo's and his phone number. Arthur look up at the barista to find his eyes already on him. He looks unsure, but visibly relaxes as Arthur smiles shyly. Morgana chuckles across from him, pulling his attention back to her. 

   “You don't need to thank me. It's okay." She smirks. Arthur just kicks her again. "Ouch! Bloody hell, Arthur!"

~~~

   Arthur’s leg is bouncing nervously as he stares at Merlin’s contact on his phone. His thumb is hovering over the call button as he chews on his bottom lip nervously. Gwaine glances over at him briefly before focusing his attention back on the video game he’s currently playing on Arthur’s TV. 

   “Just call him, mate. It's been, what, a day? He's probably worried that you aren't gonna call him." Gwaine says offhandedly. Arthur grimaces and wipes the sweaty palm of his free hand on his jeans. 

   "It's not that simple." Arthur whines. Gwaine pauses his game and turns to face him. 

   "Yes, it really is." He informs Arthur before reaching over and pressing the call button before Arthur can stop him. 

   "Gwaine!" Arthur yells, but doesn’t have a chance to say anything else as he hears the phone ring once, then a soft, "Hello?"

   Arthur fumbles with his phone, almost dropping it as he brings it up to his ear. He glares evilly at Gwaine’s self-satisfied smirk as he stutters out, "H-hey, Merlin?" 

   There's a pause on the line before Arthur gets a reply. “Yeah. Who's this?"

   "Uhm, it's Arthur. You, uh, you gave me your number yesterday." 

   "Oh, yeah! Hey, how's it going?"

   "Good. It's going good. You?"

   "Bored, but you know, that's life. What are you up to?"

   Arthur glances over at Gwaine who is madly motioning at him to put the phone on speaker. Arthur vehemently shakes his head no, and tries to wave him off. "Nothing really important. What about you? Anything interesting?" 

   There's another short pause before Arthur hears a nervous intake of breath. “Uhm, not a whole lot, honestly. Hey, uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab dinner and maybe a movie with me tonight? If you aren't busy, that is."

   Arthur’s heart is racing in his chest, and he lets his nerves take over, which only makes him blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Which also just happens to be stupid. 

   “Like a date?" He’s blushing before he even hears Merlin’s chuckle over the line.

   "Yeah. That's kind of what I was aiming for."

   Arthur is still blushing madly as he flips Gwaine off for laughing at him. Even if he is somehow managing to stay silent. "Y-yeah." Arthur stutters. "I'd like that."

   "Perfect! Does six work? You can text me your address and I can come pick you up."

   Arthur glances at the clock on the wall, seeing that it's already three o'clock. "Yeah. Six works fine. How fancy do I dress?"

   "Casual is fine. I'll see you soon, Arthur."

   Arthur stumbles through a goodbye, then hangs up the phone. "Oh, God! Gwaine, I need help with what to wear." 

   Gwaine lets a loud chuckle slip past his defences, and he soon dissolves into loud laughter. “I think you need help with more than just your outfit, mate!"  

   Arthur shoots him a dirty look, and Gwaine tries to control himself as he lifts his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll help." He smiles, getting to his feet as Arthur does. Arthur doesn’t reply, just gives him a grateful smile, and drags him down the hall to his bedroom.

~~~

   Arthur starts to get fidgety the closer six o'clock gets. "Calm down, Princess. You're going to be fine." Gwaine instructs as he scrolls though Netflix, massive bowl of popcorn perched precariously on his lap. 

   ‘Looks like he's going to be holding my flat down for me while I'm gone.’ Arthur muses. Sometimes Arthur wonders why the man doesn't just move into the spare room. He's there often enough. Arthur jumps as the clock hits exactly six and there's a knock on the door. He and Gwaine share a look, Gwaine’s eyebrows shooting up. 

   “Punctual. I approve." Gwaine remarks with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only because he suddenly feels like he might vomit.

   Arthur shakily get to his feet and makes his way to the door. When he opens it, he almost gets knocked flat onto my arse. He had thought that Merlin was attractive in his work uniform, but in his normal everyday clothes? Holy crap. Arthur looks him up and down, taking in his Green Day tee, with the sleeves cut off, down to his legs adorned in basically skin tight, black jeans that hug his legs all the way down to his ankles. And on his feet are a pair of classic black and white, low-top Converse. 

   "Wow." Arthur breathes, blushing as he realizes too late that he’s said it out loud. Merlin chuckles softly before smirking at him. 

   "I could say the same to you." He says darkly, biting on his bottom lip, eyes obviously roaming up and down Arthur’s body. 

   "Hey!" They hear from the living room. "Get a move on!" Merlin lifts an eyebrow as Arthur steps out into the hall and locks the door. 

   "Flatmate." Arthur answers simply. Merlin nods before reaching down and taking Arthur’s hand in his. Arthur’s cheeks burn as Merlin laces their fingers together and starts leading him outside and over to his car. Merlin opens the passenger door for him, waiting until he’s seated inside before closing it and rounding the front of the vehicle and climbing in behind the wheel. He even shoots him a flirtatious grin before starting the car and driving off.

   Merlin takes him to a nice restaurant, but not too nice. Just the right hint of sophistication without trying to look like a posh snob. They eat dinner without breaking the bank, making easy conversation throughout. Arthur relaxes the more he’s with Merlin, and much to his delight, he loses the stammering nervousness that he had, had every other time that they had ever talked to each other before. It also helps to learn that Merlin is just as much of a music loving, video game playing, Netflix bingeing dork as he was. Or well, as much as he could be, when his strict work schedule allowed it. 

   Once dinner is finished, Merlin insists on paying, and won't take no for an answer, despite the fact that he works in a cafe, while Arthur works in a upscale technology firm. As they leave the restaurant, the easy decision is made to veto the movie and instead find a peaceful park to walk around, to continue talking and getting to know each other. They hold hands the entire time.

   Sadly, though, the night comes to an end and they slowly make their way back to Merlin’s car. He once again opens and closes Arthur’s door for him. Arthur is surprised when he doesn't have to ask for his address again, just takes the familiar streets back until they are parked out front of Arthur’s apartment building. He can see a light on, even from all the way down in the carpark, and knows that Gwaine is still inside. When he turns to look at Merlin, the other man is already studying him intently. Arthur blushes under his scrutinizing gaze. 

   "I had a lovely time. Thank you for everything." Arthur says as he smiles softly, reaching out to once again take Merlin’s hand in his. 

   "I should really be thanking you." Merlin replies. Arthur’s eyes drop to their laced hands as he blushes again, mortified that he was such a flustered mess in front of Merlin. He usually wants quite this hopeless when out on a date. Or just talking to a cute guy, in general. Merlin’s soft fingers brush his cheek, gently pulling his attention back up to him. Their eyes lock, the atmosphere growing thick as Merlin shifts closer. Arthur’s own eyes drop down to Merlin’s lips, subconsciously licking over his own as Merlin exhales heavily. 

   Next thing Arthur knows, Merlin is crashing their lips together, hand that was previously on Arthur’s cheek now sliding further into his hair and gripping his golden locks. Arthur breathes out shakily through his nose and presses their lips together more firmly. He fleetingly thinks of running his tongue along the seam of Merlin’s lips, but Merlin pulls back, breathing heavily.

   "Damn." He breathes. "I've wanted to do that since I first saw you, goddamn." Arthur huffs out a breathless laugh at Merlin’s words, and the earnest way in which he says them. 

   "I take it that there's going to be a second date?" Arthur asks cheekily. Merlin laughs and nods his head before reconnecting their lips fervently. Arthur sighs contentedly against Merlin’s mouth, adding a bit more pressure to their kiss before pulling back. 

   “I'd invite you up for a drink, but I currently have a leech waiting for me." Arthur says, deadpan. Merlin laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and bloody hell, how can he be so hot, and sexy, and adorable, all at the same time?

  "It's fine. I'll come up another time." Merlin replies easily. Arthur grins and moves to leave. Merlin’s voice makes him pause as he steps out into the cool night air, door poised to close. "I'll see you tomorrow?" 

   Arthur pokes his head back in and gives Merlin a cheeky smile. “Absolutely. I always need my coffee."

Chapter Text

PROMPT from Lemon_Mist on AO3: Something set in the episode ‘Servant of Two Masters’. Like when Arthur finds Merlin in the bog, he goes to kiss him or something, and Merlin just sorta pulls away.

   Guinevere was just as worried about Merlin as Arthur was, and the King knew that, but he still found her hesitance to have him leave to look for him frustrating. While Gwen was a trusted friend, and a valuable confidante, Merlin was important. To both of them. He was more than just Arthur’s manservant. He was Arthur’s best friend. His most loyal subject. The one that Arthur relied on the most for input on judgement. But it was also more than that, still. Arthur loved him, in every way possible, not that he had ever admitted it to anyone other than himself (and only then, late at night when the moon was shining in through his curtains that Merlin had neglected to close). He was going to find him, and nothing was going to change that. He wouldn’t rest until he had scoured every inch of that forest floor.

   “At least don’t go alone.” Gwen persists. Arthur turns to look at her, hands stilling on the buckles of his horse’s saddle. Gwen looked worried. No doubt she was thinking about how Arthur was the King, and one without an heir to speak of. If anything happened to him, what would become of Camelot?

   Before Arthur can reply, he hears someone say, “He won’t be going alone.”

   Looking over his shoulder, he sees Gwaine riding up, armour on and red cloak draped gracefully across his horse’s rear. He fights the urge to groan, or roll his eyes. Perhaps both. He looks back at Gwen, hoping that maybe if he looks pitiful enough she’ll tell Gwaine to stay here. Maybe Lancelot could join him instead? To his utter disappointment, however, the woman nods gratefully.

   “Now you’ve condemned me to a day of mindless chatter.” Arthur grouses. Gwen gives him a stern look.

   “Good. Now, go bring Merlin home.” She says, giving him a soft smile. These barely there smiles always reminded him of their failed romance. He didn’t mourn it, necessarily, but he wished he could have given her something more. They had split amicably, both deciding that they did love each other, but more like a sibling would love another sibling. She was happy with Lancelot, and that’s all Arthur could ever ask for. For her happiness.

   He nods once, then turns away. He swings up on his horse, only mildly getting caught in the velvety red cloak clasped around his shoulders. He hears Gwaine snicker somewhere to his right, and shoots him a glare. He gets a toothy grin in reply. Deciding the best way to deal with Gwaine is to simply ignore him, he nudges his horse forward. As he leaves the square, he feels a strong determination fill his bones. He would find Merlin, even if he had to fight off every bandit in Camelot to do so. He wouldn’t leave the man out there to die.

   As expected, Gwaine picks up his mindless chatter as soon as they leave the city behind. As the dull sound of various voices in conversation melts away into the chirp of birds and the buzz of insects, Arthur starts straining his hearing to catch any sounds out of place. A little difficult with Gwaine nattering away in his ear, but doable. He catches a few things that Gwaine says, mostly only perking up when he hears the man’s lips form the word Merlin, but for the most part, he ignores him entirely. It’s one of these moments that he simultaneously hears his friend’s name tumble from his Knight’s mouth and the snap of a branch up ahead.

   Reining his horse in, he holds out a hand to silence his companion. Gwaine, for all his attempts at lightheartedness and fun, is a good solider. One who obediently stops talking and peers ahead up the trail. Arthur dismounts, reaching for his sword. He is distantly aware that Gwaine is doing the same, but he isn’t paying too much attention to the knight. Something else is tingling at the back of his mind, telling him that whoever is out there, they aren’t a threat.

   Striding forward, he holds his sword out. “Declare yourself.” He calls out, authoritative, but not threatening. Whoever it was, he didn’t necessarily want to scare them.

   More crashing in the underbrush sounds, before someone suddenly appears. They’re covered head to toe in muck, and very clearly disoriented. As they turn to look at Arthur and Gwaine, they smile, letting out a bubble of laughter. Relief so strong it makes Arthur’s knees weak, washes over the King. He’s walking closer before he even fully realizes that he’s moving.

   “Merlin!” He laughs, hoping his relief isn’t too obvious. “I thought we’d lost you.”

   Once close enough, he pulls Merlin into a hug, muck and all. The man really does smell awful, but Arthur finds himself curling his nose into his hair all the same. He has this borderline desperate need deep in bones to make sure that Merlin is whole. That he’s okay, and actually here. Real and alive in front of him. The warmth radiating from his body soothes some of the tension from Arthur’s shoulders, and he pulls back slightly, smile on his face.

   “Gods, Merlin, it’s good to see you.” He breathes, his relief so strong that he can hardly think straight. He blames his next actions on that, as he’s suddenly leaning in to press a kiss to Merlin’s lips. Just when they’re about to make contact, Merlin pulls away. He’s frowning and giving Arthur an odd look. Arthur steps back, face flushed, and suddenly feeling mortified. Had he really just done that?

  He coughs awkwardly once before saying, “Right. Best we get you home to Gaius. He’ll want to look you over.”

   Merlin nods agreeably, still looking at him funny. Arthur averts his gaze, cheeks still horribly red, and makes his way back to his horse. Gwaine is grinning from where he’s holding the reins of both horses, whether at seeing Merlin, or if he noticed Arthur’s little mishap, the King can’t be sure. He certainly hopes his little slip went unnoticed.

   “Merlin, my friend.” Gwaine says, also tugging the man into a hug. Arthur tries not to clench his teeth at how much more willing Merlin seems to be in Gwaine’s arms than his own. Pushing the ugly feeling aside, he mounts his horse, turning to reach for Merlin. Merlin, however, is already clambering up behind Gwaine instead, lithe arms snaking around the Knight’s waist to hold on. Arthur frowns, a pit forming in his stomach. When Gwaine turns to look at him, the man inexplicably has an apologetic look on his face. Arthur scowls, and roughly pulls his horse around to return to Camelot. Merlin had just been through quite an ordeal. There was nothing to worry about.

~~~

   There was something to worry about. Ever since his return that morning, Merlin had just seemed... off. Arthur couldn’t really place why, he was just acting differently. For starters, he had gone to see Gaius, then never returned to Arthur’s side, as he usually always would. The King had grown used to Merlin’s constant presence beside him, and he felt oddly bereft without him there. Cold, too, like Merlin’s very existence fuelled the heat from the sun.

   It’s Gwen who brings him lunch, and it occurs to Arthur that if anyone has noticed Merlin’s odd behaviour, it would be her. As she settles the dishes down on his table, he thinks of possible ways he can broach the subject with her, without outing his feelings for the other man. His chances of that are, unfortunately, slim. Gwen always had been a perceptive woman, and she would likely see through him with relative ease. Still, he had to try.

   “Guinevere,” he starts, “have you noticed anything different about Merlin since he came back?”

   Gwen wrinkles her nose in thought. “Well, he hasn’t been back long, and I actually haven’t seen much of him, which is weird in itself, but I don’t think so. Who knows what he went through, you know? He probably just needs time to recover. Why? What have you noticed?”

   Arthur shakes his head, distracted. It’s true, Merlin hadn’t been back in Camelot long, but the fact that he had neglected to check in with Gwen upon his return was odd. He and Gwen had become thick as thieves almost since his first day in Camelot. Why change now?

   “Nothing.” Arthur finally replies, voice distant. “It’s just... he’s usually here, you know?”

   He gets a knowing smile in return, and visibly winces. If Gwen hadn’t suspected anything before, she certainly would now. She pats his arm a few times, before stepping back, lunch fully spread out before the King.

   “Give him time, Your Majesty. Merlin will settle back in on his own time.”

   Arthur wants to believe her, he really does, but something unpleasant is niggling at the back of his mind. Almost like something is telling him that Gwen is wrong. Before he can really focus on the feeling, pull it out into the open and pull it apart, analyze it to figure out what it means, there’s a loud bang as his chamber doors burst open. Merlin stands in the doorway, smile slipping into a scowl as he surveys the room. Arthur fights against the flutter of his heart in his chest at seeing Merlin cleaned up, and walking around like nothing had ever happened to him.

   “What’s this?” Merlin demands. Arthur and Gwen share a confused look before both looking down at the table.

   “Uh, lunch?” Arthur says, voice lilting up at the end to make the statement more of a question than a fact. Merlin’s scowl deepens. It’s then that Arthur notices the laden plate of food held in Merlin’s hands.

   “I thought you might like the help, Merlin, so I brought Arthur lunch myself.” Gwen pipes up, friendly smile on her lips. Merlin’s glare shifts to her, and she falters slightly. Arthur studies Merlin intently. The man had never been so protective over his duties before. He had also never displayed such animosity towards his friends in the past, either. That niggling feeling starts to take root and grow larger.

   “I just want to return to my duties. My old routine. I just want normalcy back in my life.” Merlin argues, striding closer. He snatches the plate from in front of Arthur, and puts the one in his hands down. “I’ve always brought you lunch, Sire, I don’t see why it should change now.”

   Arthur looks up at him, terribly confused. Gwen looks taken aback, and worried now as well. They share another quick look, then Arthur is reaching for the plate of food that Gwen had already set for him.

   “I believe there’s just been a misunderstanding. Gwen is not trying to take your job, she’s merely trying to help a friend. Surely you can appreciate that, Merlin. Besides, you’re meant to rest.” Arthur says firmly, switching the plates back, and handing the one Merlin brought back to him. Merlin’s eyes harden as he accepts the plate back into his hands. 

   “Of course you would take her side, wouldn’t you.” He snaps. Arthur’s mouth involuntarily drops open.

   “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” He asks, more confused now than he ever had been before. The other man just shrugs moodily.

   Turning his back abruptly, Merlin stalks back to the door. He pauses, looking over his shoulder to say, “I’ll just feed this to the other pigs, shall I? At least they’ll appreciate it.” Then he’s gone, door banging shut behind him.

   Gwen and Arthur share a stunned look. “Yes, Arthur, there’s something wrong with Merlin.”

~~~

   Arthur walks down the hall with a shroud of purpose, marching toward his chambers. He wasn’t actually all that busy (unless you counted having to change in order to properly bestow a knighthood later), he was just thinking about other things, and didn’t want to get bothered by anyone. He found if he had a certain look on his face, people generally left him well enough alone. His mind was torn between two subjects. Merlin, and the traitor that was currently residing in the castle. Two very troubling topics, that required equal amounts of attention. Neither of which were receiving the right amount of attention, cause he was too busy focusing on one when he should’ve been thinking about the other. His mind was a mess of swirling thoughts, half formed ideas, and worry. And he was getting a headache.

   He walks unseeingly into his chambers, and hears a snap, not unlike a cupboard closing, then a frantic shuffle of cloth. He looks up, and spots Merlin, leaning against one of the bedposts. His steps slow, until he stops altogether, and he looks at the forced ease with which Merlin is standing. Then it dawns on him that this is the first time he and Merlin have really and truly been alone since his failed attempt at a kiss upon finding him. Sure, Merlin had been in that morning to wake him, but he had been in and out so fast, Arthur had barely had a chance to shout a morning greeting at his back as the man fled.

   “Merlin.” Arthur says. Merlin lifts his eyebrows. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for before. I clearly made you uncomfortable, and it was wrong of me.”

   A shadow of confusion settles over Merlin’s face. “What are you talking about?”

   Taken aback, Arthur just stares at him. Did he not remember the King going in for a kiss? Did he not remember pulling away and giving the King a look? Maybe he had hit his head, and actually didn’t remember Arthur and Gwaine finding him in the forest at all. With a split second decision, Arthur changes tactics. If Merlin didn’t remember, he wasn’t going to remind him.

   “You know, carrying you around over my shoulder. Letting you get abducted by those men.” He says. He feels a weight leave his chest that he hadn’t even known was there. He had felt so guilty about losing Merlin, and now that he had somewhat apologized to the man, he felt better. At least a little.

   “Oh.” Merlin’s confusion clears, and he shoots the King a smile. It looks wrong, though. “Don’t worry about it. Here I am, alive and well.”

   “Right.” Arthur says, taking a few steps more into the room. Deciding to move on, he asks, “I need a change of clothes. Something more appropriate for a knighting ceremony.”

   He turns away from Merlin and tugs his tunic off over his head. He hears muffled movement, but doesn’t catch the telltale sound of Merlin clicking open his wardrobe. Once his tunic is crumpled up between both hands, he turns, but finds Merlin nowhere in sight.

   “Merlin?” He calls. When he gets no reply, he huffs and moves to the wardrobe himself. He knows where his best tunic is, hung up on the left, the closest to the wooden side of the wardrobe. Still looking for Merlin, confused and starting to get more worried, he blindly reaches for his tunic. When his fingers brush the soft cloth, he grabs it and pulls it out. Clicking the door back shut, he pulls the tunic on and turns to survey the room. He nearly jumps as Merlin materializes out of nowhere, a frown marring his features.

   “Where did you come from?” Arthur asks. “And where did you go?”

   Merlin doesn’t answer, just approaches the wardrobe, palpable irritation rolling off of him in waves. Arthur steps out of his way, staring at Merlin like he’s been possessed. As Merlin stops in front of the closed wardrobe doors, looking at them like they’ve personally offended him, Arthur turns to grab his long, leather coat. As he shrugs it on, he swears he hears the telltale whoosh of a crossbow releasing an arrow, but when he turns around, the wardrobe is closed, and Merlin is standing there, hands behind his back. That feeling of weird rushes back full force. He forces himself to shrug it off.

   “My ceremonial sword, Merlin.” He says, distracted by all the things he has going on. Merlin mutters something under his breath that Arthur doesn’t quite catch, and moves off to grab Arthur’s sword. The King buckles his sword belt securely around his waist, turning to the doors as they burst open again.

   Gwen and Gaius tumble in, and Arthur barely manages to hold back his eye roll. “I know I’m late, but you really didn’t both need to come fetch me. I’m on my way. Merlin, my sword!”

   A crash sounds behind him, and he spins around, finding Merlin flat out on the floor, sword in hand. He feels a strong urge to settle on the stone beside him, and make sure that he’s okay. Merlin groans faintly from the floor, and Arthur reluctantly stoops to grab the hilt of his sword from Merlin’s lax hand. He wants to ask if Merlin is okay, but he still feels awkward about their almost kiss, the kiss that Merlin irrevocably shut down, and he really is running late.

   Turning to Gwen, he says quietly, “Make sure he’s all right.” Gwen nods, but there’s something hidden in her eyes that he doesn’t like. He spares one last glance at Merlin, only just now raising his head to look at him, then leaves through the doors. As he walks through the stone halls toward the Great Hall, his mind shifts relentlessly from one topic to another. He needed to find out who had betrayed their plans. He needed to figure out what was wrong with Merlin. And he needed to know if Merlin actually didn’t remember their almost embrace, or if he was just trying to spare the King’s feelings. He only just barely manages to resist the urge to stop and beat his head against one of the stone walls.

~~~

   After talking with his Uncle, Arthur wanted the old Merlin back more than ever. He had never had cause to question Gaius’ loyalties before. The physician had been loyal to Camelot and to Arthur ever since he had taken the throne, and to his father before that. Merlin would’ve told him that there was more going on. That he shouldn’t blindly trust what Agravaine had to say. He would’ve had some words of wisdom for him, inexplicably coming out whenever Arthur needed to hear them the most. He might have even been able to let his guard down and give Merlin one of those rare hugs the man always seemed to want. Now, he felt unwelcome whenever he got too close to the man. Like he wasn’t allowed to be in Merlin’s space anymore. It shook him to his core, much more than he wanted to admit.

   Pushing the doors open, he feels a spark of normalcy as he spots Merlin filling the tub with hot water. Merlin glances up and grins at him. Arthur feels himself smiling back, chest going warm, as it always did when Merlin looked at him like that. It was times like these that Arthur always desperately wanted to be closer to him. Before, he had thought it might be a possibility. Now? Well, he felt hollow without Merlin where he was supposed to be.

   “I figured you’d like a hot bath. You’ve been stressed all morning.” Merlin announces as Arthur approaches. Arthur’s betraying heart flutters in his chest.

   “Thank you, Merlin.” He says quietly, already moving to slip behind his changing screen to shed his clothes. An amicable silence fills the room and Arthur’s layers slip from his body. Again, it strikes Arthur as odd. Merlin was usually so talkative, especially with Arthur. He liked to complain about this or that, pass on small stories from one of his knights. This new silence between them felt like an open and oozing battle wound, no matter how amicable it may seem.

   He opens his mouth, starting to ask Merlin his thoughts on the traitor in their midst, ready to ask him if he had any suspicions, but when he rounds the changing screen it isn’t Merlin waiting for him, but Gwen.

   “Guinevere.” He all but yelps, lunging for one of his pillows to cover up everything he didn’t want the woman to see. Gwen blushes awkwardly and looks away. 

   “Uhm, Merlin had to leave. There was an issue with the bath water.” Arthur look down at it in confusion. It looked okay to him. Warm and bubbly and as aromatic as usual. He reaches out to touch it, to see if maybe he was wrong about the warmth (despite the appearance of steam coming off it) but jumps back when Gwen abruptly yells, “You can’t have a bath today!”

   Arthur opens his mouth to reply, then decides to just cut his losses. It’s not like he had really needed the bath anyway, it had just been an observant favour on Merlin’s part. “Right. Well. Right.”

   He disappears back behind the changing screen, mind whirling. What the hell was going on in his castle right now? Had everyone but him lost their minds?

~~~

  Merlin had disappeared. Again. Arthur was going half out of his mind with worry, and it only made it worse that no one else seemed as concerned as he was. What if he was off dying somewhere? He had checked the tavern, where Gaius said the other man was, and he hadn’t been there. In fact, he had checked it several times, just in case Merlin was hiding somewhere and hadn’t wanted to be found. The man was nowhere, and Arthur was a hairsbreadth away from leaving the city to tear the whole forest apart looking for him.

   After two days had passed, Arthur decided enough was enough. He had to find Merlin. Again. After pulling on the change of clothes set out by George, he makes his way down to the Physician’s chambers. He wanted to have any medical supplies packed that he may need if he found Merlin and he was injured. He pushes the door open without knocking, taking a few steps in before really taking in his surroundings. In the room, were three people. Naturally, Gaius was there. Gwen was standing by his side, looking a little guilty, but otherwise normal. And sitting there, straddling a chair backwards, was Merlin.

   Arthur practically stumbles to a halt as he meets Merlin’s eyes, and gets this overwhelming sense of right. He holds back a gasp as Merlin smiles at him. It’s a barely there curl of his lips. A mere tug of one corner of his mouth upwards. But it’s enough. This is Merlin. His Merlin. He was back. He didn’t know how, or what had happened, or when it happened, but he was back.

   “Merlin.” He breathes, and he’s fully aware of how much his voice shakes over the word. Gwen and Gaius share a look, not as discreetly as they’d like to think, then quietly announce other duties requiring their attention, and all but flee from the room. Once it’s just Merlin and Arthur left, silence settles heavy over the room.

   Getting to his feet, Merlin stammers out, “Arthur, I can explain everything, I pro—“

   He doesn’t get anything else out, as Arthur crowds into his space, and covers his lips with his own. Merlin squeaks in surprise, and Arthur knows he’ll be pushed away any moment, so he commits the feeling of Merlin’s lips pressed warmly against his own to memory while he has the chance. He nearly jumps away himself when he hears a breathy, muffled sigh leave Merlin’s covered mouth before he starts kissing him back. Hands come up to clutch at the back of his tunic, slender fingers curling around fistfuls of the cloth as Merlin presses closer, almost greedily kissing the King back.

   When Arthur finally manages to make himself pull away, he stares at Merlin in wonder. Was this really him? As if reading his thoughts, Merlin smiles softly, releasing one hand from his tunic and bringing it up to cradle his jaw gently.

   “Arthur, I don’t know what happened before. The last thing I truly remember is Morgana. She was behind all of this. Whatever happened after that, whatever happened between us, just know that it wasn’t me. Not really.” Merlin’s voice is soft, and soothing, and earnest. Arthur believes every word.

   “So it wasn’t really you pulling away after I found you in that bog?” The words leave Arthur’s mouth before he can stop them, and he blushes, despite his best efforts not to.

   Merlin huffs a soft laugh. “Do you really think I would ever pass up the opportunity to finally kiss the man I’ve been in love with for years?”

   Arthur opens his mouth in shock. “I thought you didn’t remember anything.” He all but wheezes out. Merlin’s grin widens.

   “Gwaine may or may not have filled me in on a few things. Apparently he was very disappointed that I didn’t return the gesture at the time.” Merlin’s voice is laced with amusement, and something so unbearably fond that it makes Arthur’s stomach squirm.

   “You really love me?” He asks. He can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed at how vulnerable and insecure he sounds. Not with Merlin.

   Merlin doesn’t answer verbally, just ducks in closer to press their lips together again. Arthur practically melts at the feeling. He’d never get tired of it. Truly. There’s a twinkle in Merlin’s eyes as he pulls away. Arthur grins back, aware of how soppy and lovesick he probably looks.

   “Well,” Arthur murmurs softly into the limited space between them, “it’s a good thing I love you back, isn’t it?”

   Merlin barks out a surprised and delighted laugh. It quickly becomes Arthur’s favourite sound, and he vows to make sure Merlin laughs just like that at every opportunity that he can. He pulls Merlin into a tight hug, burying his nose in Merlin’s hair, just as he had when he had found him the first time. He smells much better this time around. Arthur closes his eyes and just breathes him in. Merlin was finally back. Actually back. And right where he had always belonged. Where he would always belong. And by the Gods, he loved Arthur back. Arthur’s heart gives a mad flutter in his chest, and he squeezes Merlin tighter. He be damned if he ever lets Merlin go again.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from aeonthedimensionalgirl on Tumblr: A fairytale true love’s kiss.

   Once upon a time, there was a vast kingdom called Camelot. The king of this kingdom was a ruthless tyrant named Uther Pendragon. While the people feared him, and his shortsighted views on magic, they all loved his son, Arthur. Arthur Pendragon had a good heart, but he was also foolish and arrogant at times. It was this arrogance that landed him in trouble with the powerful sorceress, Nimueh, disguised as an old woman. 

   While on a hunt, Arthur taunted Nimueh, refused to give her food and fresh water when she asked. Nimueh, who had been quite familiar with Arthur’s mother Ygraine, was saddened by the boy’s behaviour, and so cast an awful curse upon him. No longer would he have the fair looks from his mother. Instead, he would transform into a monstrous beast. Arthur drew his sword at the threat, but Nimueh vanished with a tinkling laugh, leaving the Prince and his knights sharing worried looks.

   That very night, after returning to the castle, the curse took hold. Large, curving horns sprouted from the Prince’s head. His golden locks grew and tangled together, knotting themselves beyond recognition of the Prince’s usual put together appearance. Savage looking teeth grew in his mouth, cutting his lips and tongue whenever he tried to speak. Long claws replaced his fingernails, tearing holes in his clothes and everything else he touched.

   In a fit of rage, Uther sent him far away, where no one who knew him would ever find him. No son of his would look like that. The heir to the throne had to ease the peoples’ worries, not create more. The next morning, Uther addressed the people sombrely, spoke of an evil curse that took their Prince away from them. The people mourned the loss of their Prince, and feared for their future without his kind soul.

   Many years passed for Arthur, alone in an abandoned and forgotten castle. He grew wary of people, learning early on that any man who crossed his path only wanted to kill him. They no longer saw a man, they only saw a monster. He stayed secluded in his new home, using a thick, oversized, hooded cloak to cover his body whenever he had to venture out to get food. Life was lonely. Up until the day it wasn’t.

   On the day that Arthur barely remembers as his twenty second birthday, there comes a knock on the old wooden castle door. As wary as ever, Arthur leaves the relative safety of his chambers, and approaches the main doors. The knock comes again, raising his heart rate. Who was on the other side? A friend? Someone else seeking refuge from the weather, only to try and kill him upon seeing his beastly face? With growing trepidation, he throws his cloak on, hung as ever beside the door, and opens the door a crack.

   “Who’s there?” He growls. He can hear the howling winds outside, the rain pouring down in thick, heavy torrents.

   “Please.” A man’s voice calls out. “I just need shelter from the storm. I need only stay until the weather passes, then I can continue on my way.”

   Arthur is unsure. Maybe if he keeps himself hidden away while this stranger was inside, he would be okay. He opens the door a little more, wanting to see this man that requested shelter. He was barely a man, at that. He could be no older than Arthur himself, and was clearly not dressed for such severe weather. He only had a thin jacket, already soaked through and clinging to his lithe, shivering frame. Thin trousers were tucked into boots, buckled all the way down. A mop of black hair was plastered to his forehead, drips of rain running down his sharp cheekbones. Big, blue eyes peered up at him pleadingly, and Arthur’s heart stutters a bit.

   “Please.” The boy says again, helplessly.

   Decision made, Arthur opens the door fully, allowing the boy entrance to his home. “Very well. But you must be gone when the weather clears. Strangers are not welcome here.”

   The boy dashes inside, relief rolling from his shivering frame in great, palpable waves. Arthur slams the door closed behind him, cutting out the cold that had started to drift inside. The boy stands in the once grand entrance, curious eyes looking around, taking everything in. Something about this boy, here in his home, made Arthur nervous. Not nervous in the way he was used to being around strangers. This was a new, fluttery feeling that was strange, and different, and not entirely unpleasant.

   “Do you really live here?” The boy asks, face screwed up now in confusion. Arthur huffs as he brushes past.

   “Yes.” He growls, not even bothering to look at him as he passes.

   “I didn’t mean to offend!” The boy calls after him. “It’s just, it’s not very homey, is it?”

   Arthur turns to eye him from under his hood, confident that the boy can’t see his face. The boy looks sincere enough, foolish though he may be. 

   “I haven’t had a home for many years. My home cast me aside. I was unwanted.” Arthur says, surprised at the truth he has freely given this intruder into his life. The boy’s eyes soften, and Arthur feels his walls slam back up. He didn’t need or want pity. He wanted to be left alone.

   “I’m Merlin.” The boy says, holding out a still trembling hand to shake. Arthur eyes it with something akin to disgust, and doesn’t move to grasp it. He knows what his claws look like, how threatened this boy will feel upon seeing them. He would brace the storm, and flee, no doubt bringing armed men back to his doorstep to try and slay the great beast hidden within. When it becomes apparent that Arthur has no desire to touch this Merlin, he slowly lowers his hand.

   “What’s your name?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. Arthur merely grunts, and turns away.

   “There is no need to know me, if you are going to be gone by morning.” He replies gruffly, already striding towards the stairs that lead him to his chambers. When he hears no movement behind him, he pauses, looks back. Merlin is still standing in the entrance where Arthur had left him. He’s staring after Arthur with an unreadable expression on his face.

   “Come!” Arthur yells, making the poor boy jump slightly. “I will show you to the chamber in which you will be staying.” He has no idea what makes him say that, he only knows that he doesn’t want this Merlin snooping around his home. He wants him contained. He wants to know where he is. 

   Changing paths, he leads Merlin to the far side of the castle from his own chambers. There’s dusty, old sheets still on the moth eaten mattress. Arthur gestures at it, face hard, even from under his hood. Merlin nods, like he honestly expected nothing less. This ruffles Arthur, makes him unsure how to deal with this enigma of a boy that he’s suddenly found himself sharing his space with. 

   “Remember that I want you gone in the morning. The storm should have broken by then.” Arthur says, before turning sharply and leaving the room. He closes the door with a bang behind him, hoping that conveys his message of ‘Stay Here’ strongly enough. 

   He feels uneasy walking back across the damp, draughty castle to his own personal chambers. There was something about Merlin, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

~~~

   As he had expected it to, the next day dawns bright, without a single hint of a cloud in the sky. Gone is the lashing rain, and the whistling wind. In its stead is a beautiful sunrise, the sky a soft pink, with swirls of orange and splashes of gold. The sight makes Arthur’s heart ache for his old life. He and Morgana used to slip up onto the castle battlements just before the sun rose, and watched it as it gracefully arched through the sky, painting the sky with such a varying array of colours that it never failed to take Arthur’s breath away.

   With a grunt, he pushes his nostalgic thoughts aside, and gets out of bed. The castle around him is silent, and he can almost pretend that he didn’t get an impromptu, and unwanted, visitor the night before. Chances are he’d be gone by now, anyway, and the thought makes Arthur breathe a little easier. As he enters what passes for his kitchen now, that breath gets stolen from his lungs.

   There was Merlin, peering through various cupboards and drawers, looking for something to eat. There wasn’t much, as Arthur hadn’t had a chance to slip into the nearest town to get supplies. He had been putting it off, not liking the feeling of dread that filled his bones whenever he left his relative safety inside. 

   “What are you doing here?” Arthur snaps, making Merlin startle violently and smack his head on a cupboard door in his haste to turn to look at him. “You were supposed to be gone with sunrise.”

   Merlin twists his face up, and if Arthur’s heart wasn’t berating his ribcage, he might even laugh at the sight. It only grows worse, however, when the boy opens his mouth to speak.

   “Look, I know you’ve been cursed. I can see it. Can feel it. I can help you.” He says the words so simply that they make Arthur’s blood boil with rage.

   “You know nothing, boy. You are to leave. Be on your way before I make you.” Arthur snarls. He rarely had to make use of the beastly change to voice as well, he so rarely interacted with anything else, but the tone seems to do very little to deter the boy standing in front of him.

   “Please, trust me. I can help.” He protests. Arthur snorts derisively. No one could help him. Who was this boy to come into his home, and then declare himself of service, anyway?

   “I trust no one. Now leave.” Arthur says, tone commanding and leaving no room for argument. Merlin however, seems to find some.

   Quick as a flash, he darts forward, pushing back the hood of the cloak that Arthur had only barely remembered to slip over his shoulders. He can feel the fabric sliding from his curved horns, feel the early morning sunlight shine upon his tangled, golden mess of hair. He bares his sharp teeth and growls at the boy menacingly, clawed hands already reaching to grab the hood from where it now rested upon his back. Gentle hands curl around his wrists, stopping his movements, and when did Merlin get so close to him anyway?

   “No.” Merlin says softly. “You do not have to fear me. Let me help you.”

   Arthur glares at him, wrinkling his nose in distain. “No one can help me. Now leave. And do not even think to bring back an army of men, for I will kill them all.” He threatens. He knows that last part is a lie. He may be strong, and have a wicked set of claws, but he could not defeat that many men. Not that this idiot knew that. This idiot that still refuses to let go of him. He keeps staring up at him, eyes soft and earnest.

   “Someone with magic could help you.” Merlin replies. “Someone like me.”

   Arthur pulls back as if he’s been burned, wrenching his wrists from the boy’s grasp. Magic. This intruder had magic. How was Arthur to know that he wasn’t in league with the sorceress who had cursed him in the first place?

   “Magic is not welcome here.” He spits ferociously. “Now. Leave.”

   That manages to do the trick, making Merlin flinch slightly. Yet, he still doesn’t move to exit the room. He stays right where he is, stubbornly looking at the cold, stone floor.

   “If you won’t let me help you with your curse, you can at least let me help you with other things. I can bring food and supplies. I can clean.” Merlin says weakly.

   Cocking his head in surprise, Arthur studies Merlin from their short distance apart. Who was this boy? Who even after seeing Arthur’s monstrous appearance, asked to stay? Asked to help? Why?

   “Have you nowhere else to go?” He asks, voice rumbling in his chest.

   A quick glance up reveals Merlin’s eyes to be slightly teary before they duck away from view again. “No. I have no where to go. I’m alone.”

   For some reason, Arthur’s heart goes out to the boy. Perhaps he, of all people, knew loneliness like Arthur did. Perhaps he, too, had no one in his life. Maybe, just maybe, they could help each other.

   “If you make a solemn promise to never bring blood thirsty men knocking at my door, you may stay for a few more days. But there will be no discussion about magic. No one can help me.” Arthur says, surprising himself. He had fully intended to force the boy to leave come morning. But, as he had felt last night, there was just something about him.

   Merlin nods. “Very well. Shall I go to town, collect supplies?”

   Arthur nods, waving him off with a vague gesture of his hand as he turns to leave. Perhaps having Merlin around would prove useful in the end.

~~~

   A few days turns into a fortnight, and still Merlin is there. Arthur has grown almost used to his presence now, no longer fearing him. He had stopped draping the heavy cloak around his shoulders a few days prior, and was surprised when Merlin looked at him every time and never hinted at flinching even once.

   The boy, however, proves to be a nuisance. He follows Arthur around, bombarding him with questions. What was his name? Where did he come from? Who was he before? Who had cursed him? Why had he been cursed? They were all questions Arthur either didn’t want to answer, or simply didn’t know. After reluctantly divulging his name, he flat out refused to answer any more questions. Of course, that didn’t stop Merlin from asking them anyway.

   It’s at the end of that fortnight, and halfway through the next that news of his father’s failing health reaches Arthur’s secluded castle. Merlin had just been in the village, purchasing food. When he returns, he’s withdrawn and uncertain in ways that Arthur had never before seen the man (he no longer viewed his strange visitor as a mere boy anymore). The two had, against all odds, grown closer over their time together. They often read the limited selection of books that Arthur possessed together in the same room. They ate their meals together. Told stories, reminisced. Not that Arthur ever gave away too many details. Still, Merlin seemed hesitant to share his news upon his return to the castle.

   “Merlin, what is it?” Arthur asks. He hardly even noticed his own beastly appearance when he was around the other man now.

   Merlin shrugs. “It’s probably not important, it’s just... there were whispers in the village. Rumours about Camelot, and the King.”

   Arthur grows unnaturally still as Merlin’s words wrap around him like a too snug chain. He swallows several times, each time more difficult than the last due to the lump forming like a frog in his throat.

   “What about the King of Camelot?” Arthur forces himself to ask, voice strained and almost unbearably vulnerable. Merlin gives him a look, one that is entirely too knowing for Arthur’s comfort.

   A short pause, then, “He has fallen ill. The physician does not think he will recover.”

   Arthur reacts to the news with a fit of anger. He growls and snarls, nothing in the castle safe from his swinging claws. Old, threadbare tapestries get shredded, and chipped dishes get smashed, thrown viciously into unforgiving stone walls. Throughout it all, Merlin never falters, never once worried that Arthur will turn his anger onto him. And, of course, Arthur doesn’t. He would never hurt this man that he had come to know, to even grown mildly fond of. He was the first person Arthur had ever met that didn’t take one look at him, and run. How could he ever hurt that?

   As his anger recedes, the guilt sets it. He storms his way through the cold stone halls to his chambers, barring the doors before sliding to the floor at the base of the farthest wall. He buries his head in his hands, sharp clawed fingers wrapping around thick, curving horns and he cries for his father. For his old life. For his kingdom.

   He should be there. He can’t help but blame himself for not being there. He never once had blamed his father for sending him away. The King had, had to do what was necessary to keep his people safe. In this form, Arthur was a threat to that. He had no ill will toward his father for what he had done. He only had ill will toward himself for letting it happen.

   Arthur knows that there was little chance that his father ever had another son, and even if he had, the boy would be just that. A boy. Not yet fit to rule an entire kingdom. He feared what would happen to Camelot. Would one of his father’s many enemies finally strike while the kingdom was in upheaval? Would Camelot finally fall?

   The sound of the doors’ hinges creaking open announces Merlin’s arrival. Arthur doesn’t look up, too listless to care about how he had managed to get in. Soft footsteps bring the other man closer, and then a gentle hand settles on his shoulder. He doesn’t realize that he’s shaking, until Merlin’s touch settles his body. 

   “You’re Arthur, aren’t you? The Arthur. The Prince that was thought to be dead years ago.” Merlin words make Arthur look up at him.

   “They all think me dead?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. Merlin nods sadly.

   “It is what the King told everyone the day you disappeared.” Merlin informs him sagely. Arthur blinks and looks away. His father had lied to the people about his own son’s whereabouts. He had spoken of him like he had passed from this world entirely.

   “Perhaps things would’ve been better if his words had been true.” Arthur replies, voice even, but toneless. A sharp inhale makes him look up again, meeting Merlin’s shining blue eyes. When Merlin catches his gaze, he shakes his head vehemently.

   “No. Don’t ever think that. Your kingdom needs you now, more than ever, Arthur. You must return to Camelot. Claim your place as heir to the throne. Before it’s too late.” The man says earnestly. Arthur huffs an unamused laugh.

   “Look at me, Merlin. I’m a monster. How could I ever go back?” His voice cracks slightly near the end, and he clamps his jaws shut and looks away again, not wanting Merlin to see the glisten of tears in his eyes. Gentle fingers cradle his jaw and bring his face back around.

   “You are not a monster, Arthur. Never once have I looked at you, and seen a monster. I merely see a man. A strong, and proud, and fierce man.” His words are so sure and undeniable that Arthur almost believes them.

   He struggles to look away again, but when Merlin’s hands don’t allow him to, he says, “I don’t know who exactly you’ve been looking at, Merlin, but it’s certainly not me if you can’t see me for who I currently am.”

   A sad smile stretches across Merlin’s mouth. “Arthur, I told you, I have magic. I can see beyond whatever curse that sorceress put on you. I can see down into your soul, and all I see is a pure heart. You are not a monster, Arthur. You are not your father.”

   Now it’s Arthur’s turn to inhale sharply. He looks back into Merlin’s eyes, and for the first time sees something else lingering there. Something that could almost be called affection under any other circumstances. The man’s words from that first morning come back to Arthur. “I can help you.” Not for the first time, Arthur wonders how. Would he have cast another spell? A counter-curse perhaps? Would it have worked? Would Arthur have been able to stride back into Camelot, apparently back from the dead, to retake his place at his father’s side?

   “Let me help you.” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s ear, the words exhaled on a mere breath. Arthur tenses, still so uncertain about magic, but feels himself nod all the same. “Close your eyes.”

   Arthur does as he’s told, let’s Merlin’s slender fingers cradle his jaw, move him wherever the other man, his friend, needed him. Slightly chapped lips press against his, and his own lips part on a surprised gasp. How could someone like Merlin ever want to kiss someone as beastly as him? Still, Merlin presses closer, pouring affection into his embrace, until Arthur hesitantly kisses back. Unsure fingers reach out to grasp at Merlin’s waist, needing something to hold on to. To ground him. When Merlin pulls back, he has a smile on his face, and tears in his eyes.

   “Arthur.” He breathes softly. Arthur blinks, sees his own reflection in Merlin’s eyes, and he gasps. Gone are the horns, and the tangle of golden locks, and the sharp teeth. His fingernails have returned to way he only merely remembered them to be. With a burst of gratitude, and dare he say it, love, he dives back in for another kiss, groaning as Merlin reciprocates just as enthusiastically. ‘True love.’ Something in the back of his mind whispers to him, and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t scoff at the idea.

~~~

   The trip back to Camelot takes nearly another sennight. His arrival at the gates causes a stir, as he knew it would. The Prince of Camelot, returned from the dead when the kingdom was in most need of him. Crowds line the streets and he and Merlin march up to the citadel hand in hand. He gets escorted up to his father’s chambers in a timely fashion, as befitting his station in Court.

   Uther Pendragon is much weaker than Arthur ever remembered seeing him before. He looks small and frail, and when he smiles at his son, it’s weak. Still, he reaches out a pale hand, ushers Arthur closer.

   “Arthur.” He murmurs. “You’ve come back to me.” Arthur feels himself nod, any questions about his lies gone at the sight of him. Frail hands clasp his own strong ones weakly. “You must take care of her, Arthur. She’s yours now.”

   The next day dawns just as bright and clear as that first morning back in his old, secluded castle, when Merlin had refused to walk away from him. The sky is an array of lush brushstrokes of colour. Pinks, and yellows, and golds, and reds. As the colours fade to blue, reminding Arthur of Merlin’s eyes, he stands before the people assembled in the Great Hall, once again hand in hand with Merlin. He solemnly accepts the crown, and all the weight it carries, Merlin beside him accepting his own golden circlet to be placed upon his dark curls.

   As the crowd breaks out into chants of “Long live the Kings!”, Arthur turns to smile at his Consort. Even at his worst, Merlin had never viewed Arthur as a beast. The newly crowned King vowed to always live up to those views. He would never let Merlin down. Although he hadn’t known him long, he still felt as though Merlin had changed him for the better. And he would always strive to continue to be better. For Merlin. For his people. For himself. Knowing this, he smiles secretly to himself, as his first order as King would be to rescind the ban on magic his father had placed over the land. He just hadn’t informed Merlin of this decision yet. He knew deep down that they would live happily ever after. 

And indeed they did.
The End

Chapter Text

PROMPT from disneyintrovert on Tumblr: A fake marriage au where Merthur feel the need to kiss to prove to whoever is being fooled that ‘yes, my lord, we are actually married’ and realizations follow.

   “Merlin, I need you to be my husband.”

   Merlin looks up at his best friend, walking through the front door of his flat like he owned the place. He blinks, trying to process the words that the blond had just hurled his way. He had known Arthur for the better part of a decade, but never before had he ever said something quite like this. It was usually Merlin spouting off nonsense.

   “You know, I never imagined someone would propose to me quite like that. Could be worse, I suppose.” He replies. Arthur wrinkles his nose as he turns to close the door behind him.

   “I’m being serious, Merlin.” The man retorts, turning back to face the dark haired man sprawled across the sofa, laptop perched precariously on his lap.

   “So am I.” Merlin replies, eyes already drifting back down to the screen. Arthur was prone to bouts of being rather over-dramatic. Merlin found it was usually best to just let him get it out of his system. Whilst doing so, Merlin usually zoned out. Though Arthur didn’t know that.

   Arthur approaches the sofa, grabbing Merlin ankles and lifting his legs, sliding down into the spot vacated on the sofa. Once settled, he lets Merlin’s legs rest over his lap. Merlin can feel his best friend’s eyes burning holes into his head, but tries to resist the urge to look up and meet them. He really didn’t want to get involved in whatever Arthur had gotten himself into. Seriously, what situation would require a husband, of all things?

   When it becomes apparent that Merlin is not going to give Arthur what he wants, he huffs indignantly, and says, “Please, Merlin. It would only be for a few days.”

   Merlin looks up at that, finally, with a confused frown on his face. He isn’t entirely sure that he wants to ask, but he knows that he has to. Arthur is looking back expectantly, as usual.

   “Why exactly do you need me to be your temporary husband?” Merlin asks over a sigh. Arthur scowls at Merlin’s put-upon tone.

   “The annual ‘Pendragon and Co’ family reunion is coming up soon, and I need to bring someone to finally get everyone off my back.” Arthur says, like it should be obvious. On one hand, it is. When Arthur had come out as gay a handful of years ago, no one had really believed him. They all told him it was just a phase. However, on the other hand, why on earth did he need a husband when a boyfriend would work just fine?

   “And you need a fake husband for that, because...?” Merlin asks slowly, really not comprehending Arthur’s reasoning. Arthur screws his face up again, and he looks vaguely like he has just eaten something particularly sour.

   After a short pause, Arthur says, “Because, even after all these years, they don’t believe me. They still think it’s a phase. It doesn’t matter how many boyfriends I introduce them to, they all think I’ll work it out of my system and eventually settle down with some nice girl. If I show up with a husband, a life long commitment, maybe they’ll finally believe me.”

   His tone is more vulnerable than Merlin has probably ever heard it, and his heart goes out to his friend. He knew very well the struggles that Arthur went through with his family, both before coming out, and certainly afterwards. His father in particular was quite demanding. He’d had a clear vision of what his son would become when Arthur was born, and was severely disappointed when, at every turn, Arthur took more after his mother than his father. Where Uther was logical and co-owned a prestigious law firm, Ygraine loved the arts. She loved the fluid motion in dancing, and the emotional experience of listening to classical music live. 

   Arthur, somehow, was a curious mix of the two, but definitely more in tune with his mother. He was a serious artist, had stacks of mere doodles that were better than anything Merlin would ever hope to even come close to, no matter how much effort he put into them. His serious pieces, the ones he had actually put time and effort into, had easily gotten him a spot at the best art school in London, something Ygraine had gushed about for weeks while Uther had simmered angrily about for months.

   “Fine.” Merlin says, not sure if he’s going to regret his decision or not. “I’ll be your husband for your reunion.”

   Arthur grins at him, all slightly crooked teeth and boyish glint in his eyes. “Thank you, Merlin. You’re the best, you know that?”

   A huff leaves Merlin’s lips. “If we’re gonna do this, we need to do it right. We can’t just show up and announce that we’re married. Your parents, and Morgana, all know me. It’s going to take some convincing, especially for Morgana, to get them to believe that the man who was previously only your best friend is now your life long partner.”

   A scheming grin replaces the boyish one on Arthur’s face. “Don’t worry, Merlin. I’ve got it all figured out.”

   Merlin had the distinct feeling that he really did need to worry.

~~~

   The Pendragon family reunion was scheduled over two and a half days, starting on a lovely Friday afternoon and set to end on Sunday evening. Friday finds Merlin and Arthur in the latter’s car, driving to the Pendragon’s countryside abode (which Merlin insisted was a bloody mansion, and Arthur insisted was not). Merlin is starting to feel the nerves over what they are about to do. While he had been best friends with Arthur for a very long time, never once had either of them ever tried to cross the line over to something more. Now, they were about to blur those lines, while trying to convincingly fool everyone around them, and Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what the consequences to their friendship were going to be.

   “Relax.” Arthur says from the driver’s seat, eyes still fixed on the road. “It’s only two days, and then everything will go back to normal after.”

   Merlin rolls his eyes. “And what exactly are you going to tell your family after this reunion when they ask about your beloved husband?” Merlin shoots back, starting to get even more twitchy and fidgety. This was such a colossally stupid idea. He glances over, and finds Arthur chewing on his bottom lip nervously. The sight does little to quell Merlin’s concerns.

   With a shrug, and forced ease, Arthur replies, “That’s an issue that can be dealt with later.”

   Merlin glowers out the passenger window. He couldn’t help the empty pit opening up in his stomach. What the hell were they doing? No one was going to believe them, least of all Arthur’s immediate family. This was a doomed operation, already set to fail before it had even begun.

   The silence lasts all the way to the Pendragon countryside estate. Merlin’s legs start to jiggle up and down with pent up nervous energy as Arthur parks his flashy sports car beside all the other ridiculously expensive, luxury vehicles. It seemed they were one of the last to arrive. Merlin’s fault really, as he hadn’t been able to get the afternoon off from work, forcing them to leave after he had finished his shift. Cutting the engine, and pulling the key out, Arthur turns to look at his friend.

   “Okay, we both know the plan. Hand holding, soppy looks, secretive smiles, the whole act.” Arthur says quietly, even though there’s no one around to overhear them. Merlin nods mutely, startling slightly when a hand lands on his thigh. He glances over at Arthur, sees a soft smile there waiting for him.

   ‘I guess we’re starting with the lovesick looks already. Getting the practice in before we really need them.’ Merlin thinks.

   “We’re gonna be fine, Merlin. Trust me.” When Arthur’s hand disappears as he turns and opens his door, slipping out into the chilly evening air, Merlin feels slightly empty. He shakes the feeling off, chalking it up to merely preparing for his soon to be needed performance.

   Merlin tumbles out of the car, just as Uther and Ygraine appear in the mansion’s doorway, and start to make their way over.

   “Arthur, Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you!” Ygraine calls as she gets closer, immediately tugging her son into a warm hug once she’s close enough. Arthur chuckles, mumbling some kind of greeting into her shoulder. When she pulls away, she turns to Merlin, giving him an equally brilliant smile.

   “And Merlin. It’s been much too long since we’ve seen you, Dear.” He, too, gets pulled into a nearly bone crushing hug, and, not for the first time, truly appreciates just how strong Arthur’s mother actually is. 

   As they pull apart, he smiles at her sheepishly. “I know, Mrs, Pendragon. Life has definitely been a little crazy lately.”

   Ygraine smiles. “Don’t you worry a hair on your head about it. And I told you, it’s Ygraine.” Turning back to Arthur, but keeping a hand still on Merlin’s elbow, she says, “Now, Arthur, you said you were bringing someone special.”

   To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur blushes bright red in the evening light. He fiddles nervously with the cuff of his jacket as he says, “Uh, yes, and I did. Mother, Father, I’d like you to meet my husband.” He steps closer, grabbing Merlin’s free hand with one of his, curling his fingers around the back of Merlin’s hand and pressing their palms firmly together. Merlin startles a little at the contact, turning his head to look at Arthur, only to suddenly have Arthur’s lips press shakily to his own. It’s a fumbling kiss, and only lasts for a second, but it’s enough to empty all thought out of Merlin’s whirling head. Uther’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, while Ygraine just smiles broadly.

   “Oh, I always knew there was something there between you two. You’ve been so close for so long, I have to say I’m really not surprised.” Ygraine says, a twinkle in her eyes. Merlin pulls his gaze away from Arthur’s mildly panicked one, and turns to stare at Arthur’s mother instead. She pats his cheek fondly, then loops her arm through her husband’s. “We’ll see you two lovebirds inside. Arthur, you’ll be staying in the same room as usual. Make sure you bring your new husband down to talk properly once you’re both settled.”

   Merlin watches them go mutely. When he turns to look at Arthur again, once his parents have disappeared back into the house, he sees the same dumbfounded expression on his friend’s face. What exactly did Ygraine mean by she wasn’t surprised?

~~~

   Arthur seems to have recovered by the time they get their bags inside. The room is comfortable enough, though Merlin refuses to think about the fact that there is only one bed. Not yet, anyway. That was definitely a future-Merlin problem. When he turns to look in Arthur’s direction, he finds the man looking back at him intently, scrutinizing him.

   “What?” He asks, mildly defensively. Did he have something in his face? To his surprise, Arthur strides closer, crowding into his space. Their close proximity sets Merlin’s heart beating double time, which only confuses him more.

   “That kiss was terrible. Not convincing enough.” Arthur says matter of factly. Merlin is honestly inclined to agree. It had been hasty and awkward. Not a kiss two people would share who had supposedly been dating and been in love long enough to get married. With a decisive nod, Arthur announces, “We need to practice before we go back down there where everyone is.”

   Merlin’s jaw drops open. “Excuse me?”

   Arthur’s brow furrows. “Yes. Clearly we didn’t think that part through. I don’t know why I never thought about the kissing part of a relationship. Everything else we’ve got down just fine, but the kisses need work.”

   Poor Merlin’s brain has short circuited, still stuck on a loop of: ‘Arthur wants to kiss me. My best friend wants to kiss me.’

   When Merlin fails to respond in any way whatsoever, Arthur just shrugs and loops his arms around Merlin’s shoulders. He smiles smugly at his friend as Merlin’s arms automatically move to wrap around his waist. Merlin blinks owlishly back at Arthur, surprised at his body’s almost instinctual movements. His heart stutters in his chest as Arthur slowly leans in.

   This kiss is much better than the hurried one they had shared down by the car. For one, there’s no audience. Second, they’re both expecting it to happen. To Merlin’s surprise, he easily melts into it, responding almost enthusiastically to the alternating pressure of Arthur’s mouth. When they finally deign to break apart, Merlin’s cheeks are flushed, and Arthur is breathing noticeably heavier.

   With a nod, Arthur hastily steps back. “Good. Good. I think we got it.” His voice is rough and strained, and Merlin is more confused than he ever has been. He wasn’t even sure if what they were doing was merely blurring the lines anymore. It felt a lot more like they were taking the lines, and erasing them altogether. This weekend was going to be a disaster. 

   Arthur’s finger once again reach out, lacing with his, and Merlin looks down at their clasped hands. When he looks back up, Arthur has a soft look in his eye, that he hastily covers when Merlin meets his gaze. He tugs on Merlin’s hand. 

   “Come on. Time to go face the music.” Arthur grins, but there’s something else there too. Some new quality that Merlin had never seen in one of Arthur’s carefree smiles before. He ponders the look all the way to the ornate staircase, only coming back to himself as they start down. He was notoriously clumsy, and really doesn’t fancy a tumble down the stairs when he was trying to impress his “husband’s” entire extended family. They follow the hushed murmur of several conversations going on at once to the large sitting room. The massive bay windows, taking up almost one entire wall let in the glowing sunset light. The sky is so beautiful, that Merlin almost can pretend that what he’s about to do doesn’t make him want to vomit from nerves.

   “Arthur.” A very familiar voice calls. They both look up to see a fair skinned, dark haired woman striding toward them. She had a calculating glint in her sharp eyes as she looks over her brother first, then Merlin, then eyes their clasped hands with interest. Merlin notices how Arthur’s palm starts to sweat under the intense scrutiny.

   “Morgana.” Arthur chirps cheerfully. She breaks out into a cat-like grin, easily pulling him into a one armed hug once she’s close enough. Morgana was two years Arthur’s junior, but as smart and sharp as a whip. If anyone was going to doubt their little charade, it would be her.

   “Merlin.” She smiles easily at him, pulling him into a gentle hug as well. “I hear congratulations are in order.” She gestures to their hands as she pulls back. “When did this happen?” She eyes the cheap gold coated bands they had purchased before coming out here, adorning their fingers on their left hands.

   “Five months ago, now.” Merlin replies with an easy grin. Despite his nerves, he was generally the better actor, especially under pressure. “Can you believe I’ve put up with the man for that long?”

   “Hey!” Arthur huffs indignantly beside him. Merlin turns to grin toothily at him. When their eyes meet, something flutters in Merlin’s chest, and he’s suddenly leaning closer to press a soft, chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips. When he pulls away, Arthur’s startled blue eyes are boring into his. Merlin pulls his gaze away to once again look at Morgana. She’s studying them intently, a knowing spark in her eyes.

   “Well,” she says, “better someone like you who won’t smother him in his sleep, than anyone else. Honestly, it’s about time.” 

   As Morgana shoots them a smile, then saunters off, Merlin again feels blindsided. It was about time? What exactly had Arthur’s family been thinking about him, and his relationship with Arthur, for all these years?

   Close to his ear, he hears Arthur murmur, “Good job, Merlin. We might have managed to convince the harpy.” Arthur’s warm breath against his skin, ruffling the curls around his ears, makes a shiver tingle down his spine. He turns his head slightly, just enough that he can catch Arthur’s gaze from the corner of his eye. Arthur looks pleased, and so he should. If they could convince Morgana, they would be able to convince everyone else assembled under the estate’s roof.

   “Come on.” Arthur adds, already taking steps away from Merlin, who instantly mourns to loss of his body heat radiating against him, and tugs his hands. “My parents wanted to talk more.” He has a grin on his face, like for the first time he actually thinks they’ll be able to pull this whole thing off, and Merlin’s insides squirm at the sight. He’s surprised by the feeling. Being close to Arthur had never had this kind of effect on him before. Granted, they had never held hands before. They had never kissed before. Shaking himself of those thoughts, of those pesky feelings, he allows himself to be pulled along behind him friend, going off in search of Uther and Ygraine.

~~~

   Thankfully, the rest of the night is short lived. After a proper conversation with his parents, Arthur manages to slip them away mostly unnoticed by the rest of his relatives, claiming that the long drive from their London flat had left them both exhausted. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Merlin doesn’t realize how nervous he is until they’re stepping into their room for the weekend, and the door is closing behind them. They ratchet back up, however, when he remembers their sleeping arrangements.

   Merlin and Arthur had shared a bed before, on many occasions. Never before had it made Merlin’s heart rate spike, and his palms sweat. Arthur is already crossing the room, pulling his designer tee off over his head. Merlin swallows and looks away, unsure as to why the sight of Arthur’s bare back, his muscles flexing and shifting under his skin, suddenly makes him want to squirm. Arthur shoots a look over his shoulder, face creasing in a slight frown when he spots Merlin still by the closed door.

   “Are you okay?” He asks, rummaging in his bag and pulling out a soft, threadbare tee, and tugging it over his head. Once the expanse of golden skin is covered, Merlin feels like he can breathe properly again.

   “Yeah, I’m fine. You sleep on the left, from what I remember?” He replies, crossing the room on slightly shaky legs. Arthur grins at him.

   “I’m touched that you remember that, Merlin.” Reaching down, he unbuttons his jeans and tugs them down and off, leaving him in just his sensible black boxer briefs. Merlin again averts his eyes, trying his best to fight down the flush trying to creep up his neck. He slowly sheds his own clothes, pulling on his soft flannel bottoms, and an old tee of his own. Turning back to the bed, he finds Arthur already settled between the sheets, looking up at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

   Ignoring the look, Merlin slides between the sheets, settling on his back. He stares up at the ceiling, acutely aware of how close Arthur is beside him, even if they aren’t touching. He has never felt more grateful for a room having a king size bed in his life. A soft rustle pulls his attention over, and he meets Arthur’s eyes.

   “Thank you, Merlin.” The man says, voice soft and quiet, and Merlin’s heart gives another faint flutter. 

   He smiles back. “You’re welcome. You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t make you do something like this on your own, or with some stranger.”

   He gets a soft smile in return before Arthur murmurs, “Good night.”

   “Good night, Arthur.” Reaching over, Merlin clicks the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. He feels the mattress shift as Arthur turns, settling in the for night. Merlin holds his breath for a moment, before turning onto his side, back facing his friend. Something was tingling through his veins, and he didn’t necessarily dislike the feeling, but it definitely made him nervous. This was going to be a very long weekend.

~~~

   The sunlight streaming in through the partially uncovered window, wakes Merlin the next morning. In his hazy state between sleep and being awake, he snuggles closer into the warmth beside him, sighing softly when said warmth shifts slightly to better accommodate him body. He blinks blearily up at the soft blue of the sky outside the window, and is struck by how close to the same shade of blue as Arthur’s eyes it is. Something about that thought makes another tickle at the back of his mind, but it takes another few blissful moments of peace for him to remember exactly where he is, and who he’s with.

   His eyes snap open fully, landing on Arthur beside him. His friend is sprawled on his back, chest rising and falling evenly with each slow and steady breath. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, blinking slowly in time with each strong heartbeat in his chest, which Merlin can hear from where he’s snuggled into Arthur’s side. His head is pillowed on his shoulder, with Arthur’s corresponding arm draped loosely around his shoulders, gently holding him close. Even their legs are tangled together beneath the sheets, Merlin’s flannel clad ones pressed tightly between and around Arthur’s bare ones. How long had they been like this? How long had Arthur been awake, and continued to let Merlin use him as pillow, instead of the perfectly good one lying behind Merlin’s head?

   “Morning.” Arthur says, voice rough and sleep addled, before Merlin has a chance to say anything, or perhaps start to panic. Merlin honestly isn’t sure which, himself.

   “Morning.” Merlin replies, slightly breathless.

   They lapse into silence, both lost in their own separate thoughts. Merlin would give just about anything to know what exactly his best friend was thinking at that moment. He feels Arthur shift under him, moving his arm slightly, and Merlin realizes that his limb is probably going numb from Merlin’s weight. That thought kicks Merlin into action, and he gets up, untangling himself from Arthur’s body. He feels oddly cold as soon as they’re no longer touching.

   “We should probably get up. Breakfast must be soon.” He says, glancing out the window again. The colours of the sun rising have long since changed to blue, and knowing Arthur’s family, they would all be up by now. Arthur was the only one in the entire family (including his entire extended family of cousins) who had missed the ability to wake with the sunrise.

   Arthur grunts behind him as he leaves the warm of their bed, and Merlin resists the urge to turn around and look back at him. Instead, he stoops to grab a change of clothes from his bag, and crosses the room to the door of the ensuite bathroom. Once inside, he closes the door, creating a real and solid barrier between himself and his best friend. His heart is racing in his chest, and he has to take a moment to simply lean against the counter in order to get his breathing under control. Turning on the cold water, he cups his hands underneath, then scrubs his face, shocking a gasp out of himself as the cold water makes contact with his flushed skin. What the hell?

   Once he feels a little more balanced, he strips out of his pyjamas, and pulls a fresh pair of briefs on. He tugs his best jeans on, the ones his friend Gwaine always says make his arse look great, then a snug fitting black tee with a tasteful v-cut in the collar. He smooths his hands through his hair, eyeing the mop of black critically in the bathroom mirror. Once he deems it tamed enough, he brushes his teeth, and re-emerges into the bedroom itself, only to find Arthur still in bed.

   “Get up, Arthur. I’m not bringing breakfast back upstairs for you.” He says, tossing his pyjamas onto the bed where he had fallen asleep originally. Arthur groans.

   “You’re the worst husband ever.” He mumbles, still sounding half asleep.

   Merlin snorts out a laugh. “And yet, you still proposed.”

   Arthur lifts his head indignantly, but the faux scowl on his face get downplayed by the tufts of golden hair sticking up in various places around his head. The entire sight, tufts and all, makes butterflies erupt in Merlin’s stomach, fluttery around madly while he tries not to squirm. When Arthur just grunts again, dropping his head back to the pillows, Merlin crosses back over to the bed and pulls the warm covers off. As Arthur starts to complain, he grabs one of his wrists, and tugs hard. The resulting yelp as Arthur all but tumbles from the bed could probably be heard downstairs.

   Getting to his feet, Arthur gives Merlin a betrayed and wounded look. Merlin shrugs, grinning madly. “Come on, husband, I’m hungry.”

   Something flickers across Arthur’s face, but it’s gone before Merlin can truly place what it is. He watches Arthur grab a change of clothes before disappearing into their bathroom, suddenly feeling almost lightheaded. When Arthur reappears, dressed in dark wash jeans, a practically skin tight red tee, and his hair artfully tousled into obedience, Merlin’s mouth goes a little dry. He has to swallow thickly before walking with Arthur to the door. As his friend twists the knob and pulls it open, he reaches down to tangle their fingers together again.

   “Ready to go play happy couple?” Arthur asks, and Merlin nods mutely, not sure that he even had the ability to talk. Arthur gives him a weird, fleeting look, before pulling him across the threshold and out into the hall. Merlin stumbles along behind him, mind blank and a strange buzzing in his ears.

   The conversation as they near the small dining room off the kitchen is just as muted and droning as the night before. The only difference now, being everyone’s eyes locking onto them as soon as they step into the room. Most of the people arranged around the undoubtedly expensive table are faces Merlin has never even seen pictures of. He swallows heavily and lifts his free hand in a pathetically small wave. 

   Ygraine’s brother, Agravaine (Merlin knew him), looks Merlin up and down before looking at Arthur. “My sister said you had arrived with a husband.” Merlin honestly can’t tell if he means it as an accusation, or merely an innocent observation. Either way, he feels Arthur tug him closer, soft lips pressing to his cheek in a blatantly open display of affection, making Merlin’s cheeks flare red. 

   “Yes. This is my Merlin.” Arthur replies cheerfully. Slightly startled at his wording, Merlin glances beside him. Arthur has that boyish grin back on his face, but his eyes have gone soft, kind of like they do when he sees a particularly adorable puppy. The sight makes Merlin’s cheeks flood red even more.

   “Oh, he’s just adorable, Arthur.” An unknown woman sitting closest to them says. She smiles warmly at Merlin, and he manages a weak smile back.

   “Come sit down, Arthur. Merlin.” Uther says, almost reluctantly gesturing to the two empty seats beside him. Arthur lets go of his hand, letting it instead rest on the small of his back as he leads him through the room, guiding him to sit down. He even goes so far as to pull his chair out for him. He hears a faint murmur of “adorable” from somewhere, and he thinks it might be Morgana, but he can’t be sure.

   Conversation picks back up once the apparent shock of their entrance wanes. Merlin tries to keep his eyes down, focusing solely on his meal, but he’s aware of several pairs of eyes looking at him. When he finally dares to look up, he sees Agravaine, and the woman seated beside him, openly staring at him. Slightly panicked, he turns to look at Arthur, only to find Arthur already looking back. To his surprise, Arthur leans closer again, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his lips. He tries not to focus on how his friend tastes like strong coffee, pancakes, and maple syrup. Still, the taste lingers, even as Arthur pulls away with a soft smile, and he finds himself almost craving more of it. Looking back down at his own plate, Merlin resolutely ignores the feeling of eyes on him. He can’t, however, ignore the hand that Arthur briefly places on his knee, squeezing reassuringly before pulling it away.

   The rest of the day passes much the same. There is the usual annual game of golf, which Merlin and Arthur thankfully don’t have to take part in, a grand lunch set up outside on the enormous back patio, a tour of the stables on the property in the afternoon, which Merlin makes Arthur go on even though Arthur has seen all the horses before, and ending with an evening of cocktails outside in the warm evening air. By the time dinner is served, shortly after cocktails, Merlin is a nervous ball of energy. He has spent the entire day pressed up against Arthur’s warm side, with either their hands clasped tightly together, or one of Arthur’s distractingly muscled arms wrapped around his waist. He’s wound up so tight, and his head is so foggy with confusion, that he almost cries with relief when they finally get to eat, and he doesn’t have to talk anymore.

   A live band has been hired to play as dinner wraps up, playing soft music on the corner of the wooden area. Some couples get to their feet, swaying along to the music, wrapped in each other’s arms. When Morgana looks across the table at him and Arthur, raising her eyebrows expectantly, Merlin nearly deflates.

   “Well?” She says, catching Arthur’s attention as well. When he looks over with raised eyebrows, she continues, “Are we going to get to see the happy couple share a dance?”

   Merlin desperately wants to say no. It’s not that he doesn’t want to dance, or that he doesn’t want to dance with Arthur specifically. It’s more that he has felt more confusing emotions in the last twenty four hours than he has in potentially his entire life. The thought of being pressed up snugly against Arthur, swaying in each other’s arms to dreadfully romantic and slow music, makes Merlin’s body both tingle with anticipation and shiver with dread. Seriously? What the hell? Being close to Arthur had never been a problem for him before. Granted, they’ve been exactly this close before.

   “What do you say, Merlin? Can I have this dance?” Arthur asks, already holding a hand out to him. Merlin sighs, knowing that he can’t exactly say no. That would raise too many questions. Reluctantly, he takes Arthur’s hand, skin immediately buzzing where they’re touching, and allows Arthur to haul him to his feet, and lead him to where the other couples are dancing and staring sickeningly sweetly into each others eyes.

   Arthur spins Merlin to face him, taking his arms to wrap them around his shoulders, as his own hands settle hotly over his hips. At first, Merlin feels awkward. It was one thing to share a few chaste kisses in front of Arthur’s relatives, but this felt undeniably intimate. A sudden breath of air over his ear makes him startle slightly.

   “Relax, Merlin. Remember, this needs to look natural.” Arthur’s soothing and reassuring tone helps Merlin to loosen his muscles, swaying more easily with Arthur’s much more graceful movements. He watches his feet for a bit, trying to make sure he doesn’t step on Arthur’s toes, but looks up when he hears Arthur huff out a laugh that could only be described as fond.

   “What?” He asks, curious.

   “Nothing.” Arthur replies, shaking his head. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “You’re just terribly cute when you’re concentrating like that.”

   Merlin’s heart stutters in his chest, and for a second, he almost asks him if he really means it. Then he remembers the other couples around them, and realizes that Arthur’s words are no doubt for their benefit, not his. His lungs constrict at the thought, and he nearly gasps for breath, only managing to settle when Arthur gives him a gentle kiss. The stressful thoughts leave his head entirely as their mouths slide together. His breath hitches audibly when Arthur’s tongue peeks out to tease at his lips, but before things can go too far, he pulls away. Averting his gaze, he tries his best to stay loose and relaxed. When people start leaving, however, and it’s not considered rude for them to flee as well, Merlin pulls away entirely.

   “I’m tired. Think I’m gonna head back up to our room.” He mumbles, not looking Arthur in the eye. He can feel the man’s eyes on his as he turns and walk away, but stubbornly keeps his gaze on his moving feet as he makes his way inside. He doesn’t breath properly until he’s safely inside their room.

~~~

   He’s been snuggled under the blankets for about half an hour when Arthur finally joins him. His skin is warm, and Merlin flinches slightly when he realizes that all Arthur is wearing are his briefs. He forces his mind to not linger on the expanse of skin lying close to him, and tries to pretend that he’s already asleep. Clearly with Arthur, he’s not as good of an actor.

   “Merlin, I know you’re awake.” Arthur says. Merlin sighs, and rolls onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling. He feels Arthur shift onto his side to face him. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

   “Honestly?” Merlin whispers, his voice still sounding unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room.

   “Of course.” Arthur replies.

   Taking a second to organize his thoughts, and just breathe, Merlin says, “I don’t even know. It’s just, being here with you, and with what everyone thinks we are to each other, I just. I don’t know.” He frowns at his inability to properly voice his thoughts and feelings.

   Silence follows, before Arthur shifts closer. “I think I know what you mean.” He murmurs, tentatively reaching a hand out to brush over Merlin’s, resting on his stomach.

   Merlin turns his head to look at him, Arthur’s face barely visible through the dark. “You do?”

   He sees Arthur’s silhouette nod. “I think so. This, what we’re pretending to be, feels less and less like a lie every time we say it. It feels less like we’re trying to fool everyone else, and more like we’re trying to fool ourselves.”

   Merlin swallows thickly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He manages to choke out.

   Another silence. “I’m saying, that in every relationship I’ve ever had, it hasn’t felt as natural as this fake one with you has. I’m saying, that maybe we’ve been more than just each other’s best friend for a long time, and we’re only just realizing it now.”

   Merlin breath catches in his throat. He wants to reply, wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what, and isn’t sure he could even if he did. He stares back at Arthur in the dark, heart racing, and breathing fast. Did he actually have feelings for his best friend? The mad fluttering of those pesky butterflies in his chest tells him that yes, maybe he does after all. He thinks back over the past few days, ever since Arthur told him about this crazy plan of his. Maybe he had thought it wouldn’t work, because he was scared that it actually would? Maybe pretending to be close and intimate with Arthur would only wake him up to the feelings, ruining any chance of them ever going back to the way things were before.

   “Yeah?” He says, the word coming out more like a question than anything else. “Uhm, how— where do— what—“ He groans in frustration again. Why wouldn’t his stupid brain just work? Even that thought disintegrates as Arthur rolls closer, moving to hover over him. The vague moonlight shining in through the window catches in Arthur’s eyes, making them sparkle. Even in the dark, he was beautiful. Merlin loses his breath again, and tries valiantly to get it back.

   His efforts prove fruitless as Arthur leans down and kisses him again. No one is around to fool, there’s no reason to keep up their charade. No reason, except that it isn’t a charade at all. Fireworks explode in Merlin’s head and he kisses back, melting back into the mattress and going boneless under Arthur’s weight as Arthur licks into his mouth. After what feels like an eternity, Arthur pulls away.

   “I think,” he says, breathless and hesitant, “that we might actually be able to do this.”

   “Yeah?” Merlin asks, not even caring at how hopeful he sounds. Arthur leans closer, letting their noses brush together.

   “Yes, Merlin. If you’ll have me, would you continue to be my boyfriend after you’ve finished being my husband for the weekend?” Arthur asks, making Merlin let out a joyous laugh.

   “I think I can manage that. After all, I might already be in love with you.” He replies. He can feel Arthur’s shaky exhale ghosting over his slightly parted and spit slick lips. The feeling makes him shiver.

   “Good.” Arthur breathes, sounding honest to god relieved, like a part of him had still been expecting Merlin to reject him. “Cause I definitely think I’m already in love with you.”

   Merlin surges upwards, trying his best to kiss away that self-doubting voice in Arthur’s head. As they settle in the for night, Arthur’s chest pressed snugly to Merlin’s back, arms curled around him protectively, and legs entwined, Merlin marvels at how stupid and blind they had both been for so long. How had he ever missed the fact that the love of his life had been right in front of him the entire time? 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from dyingbetweenthepages on Tumblr: Canon universe au. Arthur loses a bet to Gwaine, and Gwaine dares him to kiss Merlin.

   Arthur knows better than to accept any kind of bet with Sir Gwaine. However, his notoriously competitive side doesn’t let him back down from a challenge, at least not very often. This time was no different. The second he sees his knight swaggering towards him, he knows he is going to be in for trouble. The wicked grin on the man’s mouth screams that said trouble is going to be endlessly fun for Gwaine, and maybe the few bystanders around, but certainly not for the King himself.

   “Gwaine, what can I do for you?” He asks, looking back down at Merlin readjusting his armour. His servant was muttering nonsense under his breath as he fiddles with the uncooperative buckles.

   “I’m here to offer a challenge.” Gwaine announces. Arthur look back up immediately. Even Merlin stills his fingers for a moment, before continuing on with his task. Arthur tries not to think of the man’s hands holding his arm steady as he curses violently at the leather and metal covering the King’s arm.

   “Is that so?” He asks absently. Gwaine’s eyes flick between Arthur and Merlin, his grin growing even wider.

   “One on one fight. Whoever loses has to do whatever the winner wants them to.” Gwaine says. Arthur notices that he pitches his voice louder, letting his words carry. He purses his lips and eyes his knight carefully. What exactly was the man up to?

   With a derisive snort, the King replies, “Please, you couldn’t beat me in a one on one fight, even if I was blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back.”

   He feels Merlin’s fingers still on his arm again as Gwaine’s grin grows savage. “Are you willing to bet on that?”

   The King turns, properly looking the other man up and down. He wasn’t sure what Gwaine was playing at, but he knew the Knight’s skill level, just as well as he knew his own. He was relatively confident enough in his abilities to risk taking this bet, this challenge, but the uncertainty was still there. If he lost, then what? He wasn’t too worried about losing the respect of his other knights, or his people. After all, he would be severely compromised during their fight. However, doing whatever the other man wanted? That was a little more worrisome for Arthur. With Gwaine, you really never knew what you were going to get.

   “Come on, Princess. You’re not scared are you?” Gwaine taunts, clearly taking pleasure in Arthur’s hesitation. Arthur frowns at his words, eyes flicking back to glance at Merlin. Merlin was already looking back at him, eyebrows raised. Clearly he, too, was waiting to see what the King would do regarding such an open and public challenge.

   “If you win, what will you have me do?” He asks. Gwaine shrugs.

   “It ruins the fun if you know in advance.” He replies, trying to be mysterious, but only making Arthur grit his teeth. He chances a look around the training field, sees all eyes fixed on them.

   “Fine.” He huffs. “Merlin, finish my armour and grab my sword. Then fetch something to cover my eyes, and we’ll need use of your magic to keep my arm behind my back.”

   “Are you sure about this?” Merlin asks softly, eyeing Gwaine suspiciously. Arthur grits his teeth harder and nods. He had already said yes. He would be damned if he backed out now. Merlin nods reluctantly, shooting Gwaine a warning look, before finishing up with the buckles on Arthur’s vambrace. He pats the side of Arthur’s arm once before pulling away.

   “I think I have some bandages down here already, Sire, if that’ll do the trick.” He says, already moving to where he keeps small bag packed with physician’s supplies. It was easier to have something right there to immediately patch up small wounds during training than it was to inundate Gaius in his chambers afterwards with superficial wounds.

   Arthur nods, watching Merlin walk away. He rips his gaze away, however, as Merlin bends down to grab the bag, one hand holding it open while the other rummages around inside. He look back over at Gwaine, sees a knowing smirk on his face, and promptly looks away. He had made it this far without anyone becoming aware of the pesky feelings he harboured for his manservant, he wasn’t going to start letting people in on his secret now.

   “Here we are.” Merlin says, bringing Arthur’s attention back to him. He’s setting the bag back down, haphazardly rolled up bandage in one hand. He glances at Gwaine again as Merlin starts to walk back to his side.

   “This is your last chance to withdraw this challenge, Gwaine. You know I’m not going to take it easy on you.” The King says. Gwaine merely smiles at him. 

   “I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess. Don’t worry about me though, I won’t be taking it easy on you either.” Is the man’s reply. Arthur wants to respond, something snappy about the knight showing his king some respect, but Gwaine is already sauntering away toward the others. A group of them have assembled, larger than usual, with the new prospects amidst them as well. There’s pats on the back and words of encouragement for Gwaine, and Arthur wonders what exactly he’s going to be getting out of this. 

   His attention gets pulled back to Merlin by a soft touch to his arm, and his voice asking, “You good?”

   Nodding, Arthur turns to face him. “I’m fine, Merlin. Besides, it’s him you should worry about. Now, get that thing on, so I can be done with this.”

   Merlin purses his lips, but gestures for Arthur to bow his head slightly. The King does, making Merlin’s job a little easier as he securely wraps the bandage around Arthur’s eyes, knotting it tightly at the back of his head. Some sunlight still filters through, but he most definitely can’t see anything.

   “How many fingers am I holding up?” Merlins voice asks from in front of him, and slightly to the left. Arthur growls slightly and swats his hand out, successfully slapping Merlin’s hand away. The other man chuckles, and the sound makes Arthur’s stomach swoop slightly.

   “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin. Now come on, finish the job.” Arthur says, keeping his tone more on the grouchy side to cover up the butterflies still fluttering madly around in his gut. He obediently shifts his left arm around behind him, pressing the back of his hand to the small of his back. He doesn’t need to be looking at Merlin to know that the man has a pinched look about his features. He didn’t approve of this challenge set by Gwaine, didn’t think Arthur should do it, but Arthur didn’t care. It certainly wasn’t a matter of life and death, so he could happily ignore Merlin’s concerns without any terrible and unwanted consequences falling into his lap later.

   Arthur’s heart rate picks up as he catches Merlin’s voice muttering a spell, the words falling from his mouth incomprehensible. He imagines the flash of gold in his manservant’s eyes, and has to force himself not to react. The sight always made him a little squirmy. Once the words stop, Arthur tugs on his left arm, but finds he can’t move it at all. Just like it was supposed to be.

   “Perfect.” Arthur says, flashing a smile in the direction of Merlin’s shifting feet. “Thank you, Merlin. It’s probably best if you have that emergency medical bag at the ready. Gwaine might need it.”

   He flashes a grin, knowing he’s gotten an eye roll in return. Strong hands grip his shoulders and needlessly guide him to the middle of the training field. He misses them as soon as they slip away and he and Merlin are no longer making contact with each other. As Merlin backs off, he hears Gwaine approach, though the knight tries to keep his steps light. With his vision cut off, his hearing is sharper. He pays even more attention than usual to the sounds of boot soles flattening grass, the soft scuff of a toe brushing over the ground. He adjusts his grip on the hilt of his sword, twirls the blade around a few times to get a feel for the balance of it, then settles into a fighting stance, and waits.

   He tilts his head as he listens to Gwaine’s feet moving around him. When the knight gets around behind him, he surges forward. Arthur spins on his feet, raising his sword to block the swing. The sound of metal clashing on metal rings out, officially starting whatever showdown this was that Gwaine wanted.

   For a while, Arthur easily fends off every one of Gwaine’s attacks. He meets him strike for strike, and even manages to push the knight back across the field. However, his compromised ability soon makes itself known as Gwaine darts in closer, much closer than he had previously, and stomps hard on the King’s foot, keeping it pinned to the ground. Arthur hears the swoosh of the other man’s sword through the air, and lifts his own sword up to block easily enough. What he isn’t counting on, however, is for the knight to keep their blades locked as he swings his other hand up to connect roughly with Arthur’s bottom jaw. His head snaps back, Gwaine removing his foot to allow the King to stumble backwards, subsequently tripping over his own feet, and landing hard on the grass below him. The sharp tip of a blade presses lightly to his throat, forcing him onto his back, left arm trapped awkwardly between his back and the ground.

   “I win.” Gwaine pants, and Arthur is at least a little appeased that the other man sounds so out of breath. Despite Arthur clearly being at a disadvantage, he at least had managed to work the other man hard. 

   “You didn’t exactly play fair, but yes, you win.” Arthur grouches, pride stinging at having lost. “Merlin!”

   The warmth that had previously been wrapped around him like a hug, disappears, and Arthur wriggles his arm out from underneath his body. It aches a bit at having been held back for so long. Letting go of the hilt of his sword, he reaches up and pulls at the bandage, growing frustrated when the knot refuses to come undone.

   “Here.” Says a voice in his ear, and Arthur jumps slightly. He had been so focused on what his own fingers were trying to accomplish, that he hadn’t heard Merlin approach. Slender fingers bat his own away and take over undoing the knot behind his head. A second later, the bandage is pulled free, bright sunlight streaming back into Arthur’s eyes.

   Squinting up at Gwaine’s smug smirk, Arthur says, “A bet is a bet. What do you want me to do?”

   To his horror, Gwaine merely shrugs. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something.” Arthur watches him go, dread pooling in his gut. A nonchalant Gwaine was a dangerous one. Getting to his feet, Arthur waves Sir Leon over. He did have knights to train, but he was much more interested in going back up to his chambers and licking the bloody wounds inflicted upon his ego.

   “Yes, Sire?” Leon asks, face impassive despite the display he had just witnessed.

   “Leon, you can take over training for the day. I have other business to attend to.” Arthur says. The other man nods, not commenting on Arthur’s real reasons for wanting to leave. Merlin stifles a snort of laughter beside him, and Arthur reaches out to swat at the back of his head without breaking eye contact with his knight.

   “Of course, My Lord.” Leon bows his head slightly. As he turns to walk back to the group of knights assembled and waiting, Arthur turns back toward the castle.

   Reaching out, he wraps his fingers around Merlin’s slim wrist. “Come on, Merlin. You can draw me a bath.”

   As soon as they are safely out of earshot of the training grounds, Merlin bursts out into gleeful laughter. Arthur wants to snap at him, but finds his mouth curving up into a slight smile instead.

~~~

   It’s been two days since Arthur had lost to Gwaine, and the man had so far not uttered a word about it. Naturally, a part of Arthur would love to believe that the man had forgotten all about it. The rational side of him, though, knew that Gwaine would never forget about something like this. Arthur owed him something, and he knew better than to believe that Gwaine wouldn’t make him pay up.

   He’s sitting at his desk in his chambers, poring over parchment with various details concerning grain reserves, the gold in the coffers, and how the crops around the city were fairing. The words were dull, and held little interest for him, but with the weekly council meeting coming up in a few days, Arthur had to know what was going to be spoken about. The more he knew, the better the decisions he could make. 

   His attention is pulled away from the slightly blurring words when there’s a perfunctory knock on his door, followed by the hinges creaking slightly as the door is pushed open. He knows right away that it isn’t Merlin, since the man never knocked before entering. Glancing up, he feels a wave of cold dread wash over him. Gwaine was approaching his desk, clearly fighting back a pleased smile, and failing.

   “Gwaine, what can I do for you?” He asks, leaning back in his chair, and trying to look like he wasn’t just going cross-eyed over paperwork.

   Once he’s a few arms lengths away, Gwaine says, “We made a bet, you and I, and I’ve decided how you’re going to pay up.”

   Arthur narrows his eyes, trying to read the man’s plans, but comes up empty. With Gwaine, you really never knew what you were going to get. Setting his quill down, he laces his fingers together on the desk, and offers the man his full attention.

   “Go on.” He says, trying to hide the growing trepidation in his chest.

   The knight pauses, for probably dramatic effect, before announcing, “I want you to kiss Merlin.”

   Arthur’s jaw drops open against his will. He’s fully aware that he staring stupidly up at his knight, but he really can’t help it. His heart starts to race in his chest, as a flush starts to creep up the back of his neck. Had he heard that correctly? Why on earth would Gwaine want him to kiss Merlin? Had the man figured out Arthur’s secret?

   “Kiss Merlin?” He asks, voice clearly strained. “Why on earth would you choose that, when you could have me do anything you want?”

   Scrutinizing eyes look him over before Gwaine steps closer, bending down just enough to lean his hands against the edge of Arthur’s desk. “Because the two of you are drowning in sexual and romantic tension, and I’d like to be able to breathe for once when the two of you are around.”

   Now Arthur’s eyes widen. He has no idea how to respond. Gwaine doesn’t give him the chance to recover, merely pushes away from Arthur’s desk with a smug smirk on his face. He turns to leave, Arthur staring at his back as he goes. Pausing at the door, Gwaine turns to look over his shoulder.

   “A bet is a bet, Your Majesty. I expect you do uphold your end.” Then he’s slipping through the doors and is gone.

   Silence reigns over the room once Arthur is alone. There’s a faint ringing in his ears. He had really landed himself in it this time. As the King, and a knight, he was a man of honour. He always kept his promises, and always stayed true to his word. He knew very well what could happen if he made that bet with Gwaine, and he knew that he would do whatever task the man set him in payment should he win. He had just never expected this to be the task set for him. He briefly tosses about the idea of just saying he had done it, without actually kissing his friend, but pushes it aside relatively quickly. Gwaine would know if he lied. Maybe not right away, but eventually. And there was still his honour to think of. No, he had given his word, and he would stick to it. He had to kiss Merlin.

~~~

   He vows to himself that he will just get it over with quickly, when Merlin returns to attend to him that evening. Except he doesn’t. A medical emergency arises, and Gaius is in more dire need of Merlin’s help than Arthur, so it’s George who brings him dinner. When the man asks if he requires anything else, Arthur gives him a smile and a polite shake of his head. He could ready himself for bed.

   The King stays awake much longer then he normally would’ve, and he absolutely refuses to admit out loud that it’s because he’s hoping Merlin will finish whatever Gaius needed him for, and then swing by to check on him. The hour grows late, then even later, and when it becomes apparent that Merlin is not going to show, Arthur reluctantly climbs into bed. As he settles between the sheets, he tells himself that he’ll just do it first thing in the morning.

   Except he can’t, because it isn’t Merlin waiting for him when he blearily blinks awake, it is once again George. Whatever emergency had come up apparently hadn’t been resolved overnight. Arthur moodily eats breakfast and change into the clothes the servant already has set out for him. Once again, when asked if he requires any further assistance, he says no. He had paperwork to finish, preferably before training later that morning, anyway, and he didn’t need George’s help with that. The servant bows low, promising to return to get Arthur into his maille and armour, then grabs the full laundry basket and slips from the room.

   Perfectly on time, throwing Arthur off a bit, George returns. Arthur stands still obediently as George does up buckles and snugs up his armour professionally. There’s no banter between them, only silence. Arthur finds it a bit stuffy, and he’s relieved when George is finally done, and he can go. He dismisses the man, something in his chest hoping that Merlin will be available to finish the rest of his duties once training was finished. George again bows low and slips from the room silently.

   Arthur absolutely does not sulk as he makes his way through the stone halls. The burst of sunlight makes him blink quickly several times as he steps outside, and he’s so preoccupied with where Merlin could be, and what he could be doing, that he notices little else as he approaches the field. He only looks up when someone clears their throat. 

   At the edge of the field, is Gwaine. His eyebrows are raised expectantly, the ghost of a self-satisfied smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Arthur wrinkles his nose in confusion. Confusion which quickly gets cleared up when Gwaine gestures toward the field with his head. There, where he always was, is Merlin. He’s sorting through an array of weapons, not paying attention to anyone else around him. Something seizes in Arthur’s chest, and he momentarily forgets how to breathe. This was it. He had vowed to himself that he would just get it over with at the first available opportunity. He just hadn’t expected that opportunity to have quite the assembled audience.

   Squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, he strides regally forward. Gwaine thumps his shoulder as he passes, no doubt trying to reassure him, but only serving to make Arthur’s heart squeeze in his chest even worse. As he gets closer to where Merlin is still bent over, his footsteps make the man look up. He smiles at the King, straightening up and opening his mouth to probably explain his earlier whereabouts. Arthur doesn’t give him the chance.

  Stepping close, crowding into Merlin’s space, he settles his hands on either side of Merlin’s lower jaw, and kisses his unspoken words away. Merlin stills against him, and Arthur doesn’t think he’s even breathing. He holds their kiss for another moment longer, before pulling away.

   “That was for Gwaine’s stupid bet.” He says.

   Diving back in, he kisses Merlin again. He feels Merlin’s breath hitch at the contact, and he feels him hesitantly kiss back for a moment before Arthur pulls way again.

   “And that was because I like your ridiculous face, and I’ve been wanting to do it for ages.” The King tells him. Merlin stares at him, slack jawed and silent. They merely look into each other’s eyes, neither one daring to break the silence, or even entirely sure how to.

   Then, without breaking eye contact, Merlin calls out, “Leon!”

   Arthur hears the man approach, hears him say, “Yes, Merlin?”

   Merlin still doesn’t look away from the King as he says, “You’ll be taking over training again today.”

   The pleased smile on Leon’s face is evident in his tone when he replies, “Of course, Merlin. Whatever you need.”

   Arthur doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at Merlin, wondering what he is up to, as he listens to Leon walk away. A hand reaches up, pulls one of his away from Merlin’s jaw. Their fingers tangle together, making Arthur’s skin flare with heat. 

   “And you,” Merlin says softly, “are coming with me.” He tugs on Arthurs hand, pulling him forward into another brief kiss before pulling away. He spins on his heel, and all but drags Arthur back towards his chambers. The knights, more specifically Gwaine, start cheering and catcalling behind them as they leave. A pleased flush rises up in the King’s cheeks, and for once, he finds that he doesn’t really mind.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from myrddinthewizard on Tumblr: Gwaine flirting with Merlin, plus jealous Arthur.

   It started shortly after Gwaine’s return to Camelot. The jealousy, that is. Not that Arthur ever actually admitted to feeling jealous. Admitting he felt jealous, meant admitting why he was jealous. And he wasn’t quite ready to admit that just yet. Not even to himself. Still, the feeling sat hot and heavy in his gut, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

  It starts slow, and at first, Arthur barely even notices it. It was early morning, a fresh layer of dew still coating the grass, when Arthur steps out onto the training field. The knights are all there already. Most of them anyway. They all look tired, given the early hour, but none look quite as exhausted as Sir Gwaine as he comes stumbling into view. His hair is a mess, armour and maille slightly crooked, and he’s blinking blearily. As soon as he sees Merlin, at Arthur’s side where he’s supposed to be, he smiles. Arthur frowns, but ignores it. He had drills to work on, and footwork to sort out, and Gwaine smiling flirtatiously at Merlin was not very high on his list of things to think about.

   After showing the men what he wanted them to work on, he takes a step back and merely watches. He walks through the group, scattered across the open field, and gives out pointers here and there, stepping forward to physically move men into proper position when it was required. It’s about halfway through, when he looks back up at Merlin.

   His manservant is sitting at the edge, like he usually does, but this time he isn’t alone. Gwaine is standing close to him, looking down with a grin as he sips from a waterskin. Arthur cocks his head and watches as Gwaine says something and Merlin chuckles in reply. He studies Merlin’s expression, finding him easily smiling, but more indulgently than anything else. Something about that observation makes Arthur’s stomach settle a bit. He wasn’t responding to Gwaine’s blatant flirting. 

   “Gwaine!” He barks, feeling satisfied when the other man startles slightly. “If you don’t mind, stop harassing my manservant and continue with the drills.”

   “Sorry, Merlin. The Princess has spoken.” Gwaine says, making Arthur’s teeth grind together as Merlin laughs.

   “Now!” He says, voice stern and unwavering. Gwaine shoots him an easy grin, and practically swaggers back over to where Leon was waiting for him. Arthur watches the pair with a keen eye, picking apart Gwaine’s stance and footwork, shooting orders at him until the man is gritting his teeth with frustration. By the time training is finished, the knight is cranky and sore, and Arthur feels satisfied. He had sufficiently taught the man a lesson, he was sure.

   As the knights leave the grounds, Arthur turns to approach Merlin. When he gets closer, Merlin asks, “What was all that about?”

   Arthur quirks an eyebrow. “What was what about?”

   Merlin gives him an look, and gestures towards the knights now disappearing into the armoury. “That. With Gwaine.”

   The King shrugs his shoulders moodily. “He’s a knight, Merlin. He needs to behave like one, and that includes putting in the effort in training. How can I rely on a solider who refuses to put in the work?”

   Merlin doesn’t reply, just keeps giving Arthur a calculating look. Arthur ignores it, as well as the irritated feeling in his gut. He had absolutely no other reason for pressing so hard on his knight today. Gwaine needed to learn dedication. He needed to be serious. That was all Arthur was trying to instil in him. Nothing more.

~~~

   One day shy of a sennight later, Arthur is walking through the stone halls of the castle, Merlin trailing after him as usual. As they turn a corner, heading down a new hall, Gwaine comes into view. The man immediately grins, all flashing eyes and white teeth, and Arthur realizes that he’s smiling at Merlin. He twists his head to look back at his companion, and is honestly a little surprised to see Merlin smiling back. He never smiled at him like that, he was sure of it. 

   “Merlin!” Gwaine calls as they get closer, and Arthur turns back around to look his knight up and down. Something cold twists in his chest as he spots the knight shooting Merlin a blatant wink. He hears Merlin chuckle behind him, turning just in time to see Merlin rolling his eyes fondly. Merlin never did anything fondly when Arthur was involved. 

   “Hello, Gwaine. How’s your head this morning?” Merlin asks as he slows his steps and stops in the hall, like the King isn’t standing right beside him. Gwaine grimaces a bit in answer.

   “Let’s just say that I’ve had better mornings.” The other man complains pitifully. Arthur wants to say something, preferably something snarky and witty that will get the man to continue on his way, but Merlin speaks before he has a chance to.

   Digging in his pocket, Merlin extracts a small glass vial, handing it over with a smile as he says, “Here. One of Gaius’ hangover remedies. I had him make one this morning, just in case.”

   Gwaine grins widely at him, reaching out to grab it from his hand. Arthur’s lip curls a bit when their fingers brush lightly as the vial is passed from one hand to the other. Gwaine pops the small stopper out, and downs the contents in one go. Arthur is grudgingly impressed when he doesn’t even pull a face. Gaius’ remedies are notoriously foul tasting. He wrinkles his nose as Gwaine presses the now empty vial into Merlin’s palm, patting him good-naturedly on the shoulder. The touch looks way too familiar for Arthur’s liking.

   “Thanks, Merlin. You’re a real life saver.” He says. He then turns to Arthur, and says, “You really ought to appreciate what you have here a little more, Princess. Before someone else does.”

   The words leave Arthur flabbergasted. He simply stares, eyebrows raised and eyes wide as Gwaine thumps Merlin on the shoulder again, then continues on his way. Arthur stares after his retreating back, absolutely not thinking of all the ways he could have the man flat on the ground before he even realized he was being attacked.

   Gentle fingers on his arm pull him out of these thoughts, along with a soft voice asking, “Arthur? Everything all right?”

   Nodding his head curtly, he replies, “Yes, of course it is, Merlin. Let’s go.”

   They continue along their way, no clear destination in mind, Arthur had simply wanted out of his chambers and away from his mind-numbing paperwork for a little while. As they go, however, he finds that his mind is still resolutely stuck back in that hallway, Gwaine’s flirty wink and familiar touches unsettling him.

~~~

   The more Arthur looks now, the more he notices. The next thing to appear between his knight and his manservant are small and constant touches. It seems like every time he glances in Merlin’s direction, Gwaine is there with a hand on his arm, or fingers gently brushing Merlin’s wrist. Their conversations always seemed to be littered with soft touches and even softer smiles. It rattles Arthur to his core, much more than he’d like to admit.

   It’s once such conversation that he happens to walk right into on his way back to his chambers after a particularly dull council meeting. Merlin had been otherwise occupied with Gaius at the time, so Arthur hadn’t had him there to share looks with behind the backs of droning councilmen. He had hoped, deep down, that Merlin would finish with whatever the Physician needed him for early enough that he could sneak into the Council Chambers late, but every time the King glanced at the doors, they were firmly shut.

   Turning a corner, he nearly runs right into Merlin and Gwaine, both deep in conversation. Gwaine is standing much closer to Merlin than Arthur really deems necessary. No matter that he and Merlin constantly stood close enough to one another to be practically touching as they quietly swapped insults about this or that visiting noble. He scowls when neither one even glances up at his appearance. Honestly, he was the King. Was is so far fetched for him to expect at least an ounce of respect from his subjects?

   Clearing his throat loudly, he says, “Merlin, there you are. Is Gaius finished with you?”

   Merlin looks at him, and Arthur feels slightly ill at the flush to the man’s cheeks. He has a pleased little smile on his face, like he’s actually happy with the attention he’s receiving from Gwaine. Gwaine looks up too, eyes sparkling and grin infectious. Arthur narrows his eyes, but his look of disapproval seems to do little to quell the contented air around the two other men.

   “Yea, I was just coming to find you, actually.” Merlin replies, and he even sounds happy. Arthur’s scowl deepens.

   “Really? Cause it looks like you two are canoodling in the hall instead.” He spits out, his mouth going off before his brain can fully catch up. As the words hang in the air between them, the King nearly blanches. Why on earth had he said that? Merlin is giving him a confused look, and Gwaine is studying him intently, an expression that makes Arthur feel decidedly uneasy. The knight rarely ever looked that serious, and Arthur didn’t like the look being sent his way under these circumstances. He forces himself to stay tall, and rigid, and regal. He would not falter under their gazes. He was the King, and he intended to act like it.

   “What?” Merlin finally splutters. Arthur very nearly winces, only just managing to catch the expression in time.

   “Nothing.” He bites out, annoyed with himself for speaking out so stupidly, and with Gwaine for so openly pouring affection down on Merlin, and with Merlin for apparently enjoying it.

   “Right.” Merlin replies, but he doesn’t sound like he really believes him. Arthur huffs, latching onto Merlin’s wrist and tugging him away from Gwaine as he marches down the hall. Merlin calls a goodbye to his friend over his shoulder, only giving Arthur a weird look again as the King hauls him away from his previous conversation. Arthur doesn’t say anything, and remains tense and snappy for the rest of the day. By the time Merlin leaves that night, after extinguishing all the flickering candles in the King’s chambers, they’re both in a foul mood and are barely speaking a word each other.

~~~

   Despite the tension between them, things go back to normal relatively quickly. It helps that Arthur tries his best to keep Merlin as busy as possible, either in his chambers or following him around for this or that reason. The only times he ever seems to catch Merlin and Gwaine talking now, is during training. As irritating as that is.

   The sun is high in the sky, the temperatures well above comfortable, by the time the council meeting is done and Arthur can get out onto the training field. The knights all start out in full armour, working on their swordsmanship, but the heat soon becomes too oppressive, and even Arthur sheds the heavy metal and his sweat soaked tunic. They switch to simple strength building exercises, working on keeping their heart rates up and their muscling working, without the threat of passing out from the heat. As usual, Merlin sits at the edge, watching the men run drills over the parched grass.

   Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, brushing the strands of his golden hair away from where they had become plastered to his skin, Arthur glances at Merlin. He grits his teeth, nearly growling with frustration, when he sees Gwaine there, sprawled out on the grass at Merlin’s feet. The man’s chest is heaving, and he’s probably only taking a much needed break, but something still curls unpleasantly in Arthur’s chest when he sees Merlin looking down at the man, talking to him in low tones. The King has half a mind to march over there and drag Gwaine back to his feet, but forces himself to stay where he is. He watches like a hawk as Gwaine pushes himself up onto his elbows, saying something to Merlin, which makes the other man throw his head back and laugh. Arthur scowls and looks away, still not wanting to think about the dark and creeping feeling working it’s way through his veins. He wasn’t jealous. He merely wants his knight to take things seriously. That was all. If he told himself that enough, would he finally start to believe it?

   The King allows the other man to rest for a few minutes longer before shouting at him to get back to work. Gwaine huffs a displeased sigh, says something to Merlin, which makes Merlin laugh again. The sounds makes butterflies flutter in Arthur’s chest (which he resolutely ignores) as well as makes his stomach curl tighter, leaving him with the feeling that he might vomit right then and there. He’s just starting to look away, when he catches Gwaine leverage himself to his feet, then reach out to smooth Merlin’s hair away from his forehead. Arthur once again finds himself imagining ways to force Gwaine flat on the ground and away from Merlin.

~~~

   That evening, when the heat finally starts to break slightly, Arthur’s men manage to convince him to go to the tavern with them. Arthur usually avoided entering The Rising Sun, especially with his knights, as he knew that after a long day they only wanted to unwind. Having the King in their midst often kept the people from fully relaxing. It was sometimes lonely, but Arthur had resigned himself to the fact that sometimes, as King, he had to be lonely.

   Dressed in his simplest cloths, Arthur enters the tavern with his men, thankful that everyone doesn’t stop to openly stare at him. He was sure that they were aware of his presence. Even in a simple tunic and breeches, he stuck out. Gwaine would tell him it was the stick he had up his arse, but Arthur told himself it was because he had been born and raised as a Royal. He had spent his childhood learning how to properly carry and behave himself. That upbringing often left him sticking out glaringly in simpler environments.

   Merlin presses close to him as they all sit at a table. The wood is slightly sticky with old food and ale stains. The floor was equally as mucky, and the air had the distinct scent of alcohol lingering with every inhale. It wasn’t quite what Arthur was used to, but he didn’t wrinkle his nose at it. A tavern was a tavern, and the barkeep could only keep it so clean. Arthur swallows down the jittery feeling in his throat at Merlin’s close proximity, instead focusing on the barmaid approaching their table.

   Pulling a rag from her belt, she starts wiping at the wood. “What can I get for you, Your Majesty?”

   Arthur smiles at her politely. “Just some of your best ale, and please, don’t worry the table. It’s fine.” He settles a gentle hand on her wrist, stilling her near feverish movements to wipe the sticky and stubborn stains off the tabletop. The woman smiles shakily, but nods, retracting her hand as her cheeks flare pink at bit from Arthur’s touch.

   As she slips away into the crowd to fetch their drinks, Merlin is suddenly grabbed from beside him and hauled to his feet. Arthur whirls around on his seat, ready to jump up and save his friend, when he sees that it’s just Gwaine. The man wraps an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and steers him around to the other side of the table to sit beside him, and across from Arthur. The King’s side feels cold without the other man’s heat pressed snugly against him.

   Before he can say anything, the barmaid is back, settling a fully laden tray down on the table and passing tankards around to everyone seated. She gets large smiles from everyone, except Arthur, who’s smile is more strained and taut than anything else. She blushes from all the attention and scampers away. The men around him fall into easy conversation, and he grabs the nearly overflowing tankard in front of him and takes a long drink. Across from him, Gwaine leans close and says something into Merlin’s ear. The man laughs, and Arthur downs the rest of his ale. Without a word, he pushes to his feet and makes his way through the crowd to the bar along the back. He’d need a sufficient supply of alcohol to get through the night.

   As the hours pass, and the ale flows heavily, Arthur finds himself in an odd mix of relaxation and frustration. Leon, especially, draws him into conversation beside him, but he can’t help but let his eyes wander to the pair across from him on an alarmingly frequent basis. Gwaine has slipped closer as time goes by, and they’re pressed close together now, talking and laughing and sharing inside jokes. Arthur has to bite his tongue on several occasions to stop himself from snapping at them. Eventually, though, things come to a head, as they always do.

   There’s a lull in his conversation with Leon, and Arthur just happens to look across at Merlin, only to find Gwaine whispering something in his ear. Merlin flushes red, smiling bashfully as he looks away. Gwaine grins at him, a terribly flirty thing that might even make Arthur weak in the knees under different circumstances. He watches, frozen and transfixed, as Gwaine uses gentle fingers to bring Merlin’s face back around. He wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously, and Merlin laughs again. When Gwaine shifts just that much closer, Arthur finally has enough.

   Shoving away from the table, Arthur rounds to the other side, gripping the shoulder of Gwaine’s jacket and roughly pulling him to his feet. Merlin says something indignantly, but Arthur ignores him in favour of glaring ferociously at the man held fast in his iron grip.

   “Back off, Gwaine.” He hisses, only serving to make Gwaine smirk at him.

   “What? Am I stomping on your territory, Your Majesty?” The man asks, emphasizing the title in a way that makes it sound as sarcastic as possible.

   Arthur curls his lip in a snarl. “Watch your tongue, Gwaine.”

   “Or what? You’ll have it removed?” Gwaine asks, his tone clearly broadcasting that he knows very well that Arthur wouldn’t have it in him to follow through with such a threat. “I don’t know why you feel so threatened, Princess. It’s not like you’ve staked yourself claim to anything.”

   Anger swirls in Arthur’s gut as he imagines all the particularly nasty things he could do to his insubordinate knight. The crowd around them has by now silenced, and are all staring at the two men, waiting on bated breath to see what was going to happen. A few have twitchy fingers, as if expecting a bar brawl to break out. The silence breaks through Arthur’s rather violent thoughts, and he flicks his eyes around the room. Making a scene now would not be in his best interests. With a decidedly disgusted sniff, he shoves Gwaine roughly away from him. He glares daggers at the man as he straightens his jacket, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw almost aches. 

   “What’s the matter with you lately?” A voice hisses in his ear, and he turns to see Merlin glaring ferociously at him. Arthur blinks, not sure how to even answer that. He knew what was wrong with himself. He had grudgingly admitted it to himself about an hour ago, after watching Gwaine shamelessly flirt with Merlin, right in front of his face. He hated seeing someone else paying Merlin any kind of attention that wasn’t purely platonic. It made his gut feel heavy, and his blood surge with something hot and unpleasant. He wanted to be the one giving Merlin attention that made the other man blush and smile, not anybody else.

   “Nothing.” He growls, shooting Gwaine one last scowl. “I’m leaving. I’m sure you’ll have a much better time without me.” He shoves past Merlin, ignoring his calls to just stop being a prat. The crowd behind him is still silent as he bangs through the tavern door. 

   The air outside has cooled significantly since the heat earlier that day, and it feels good on his angrily flushed skin. Hands balled into fists, he makes his way back toward the castle. He wanted nothing more than to sit by his lit fireplace and brood over a goblet of cool red wine. Perhaps he could find a servant still around to fetch him an entire jug. That should last him all night.

   He’s about halfway to the castle when footsteps behind him make him pause. He’d recognize those particular footsteps anywhere. Screwing his eyes shut, he allows his body to stop in order to let Merlin catch up. His shoulders are still hunched up around his ears with tension, his brooding mood bubbling hotly throughout his entire body. If he had to have this conversation with Merlin, he really didn’t want it to be here. However, it seemed that what he wanted really wasn’t much of a factor at the moment.

   Slender, but deceptively strong, fingers curl around his right bicep and forcefully turn him around. Merlin’s fiery eyes are there waiting for him. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been in a foul mood for much longer than I’m willing to put up with, and I want answers.”

   An unamused laugh passes Arthur’s lips. “You’re demanding answers from your King? That’s mighty bold of you, Merlin.” He sneers. Merlin’s lip thin into an even more angry line.

   “You’re being a right prat, for no reason that I can see. Seriously, what is your problem?” Merlin demands hotly.

   Gritting his teeth, Arthur tries to take a deep breath to calm down. When he meets Merlin’s flashing eyes again, any semblance of calm that had washed over him vanishes is a fiery pit of frustration.

   “Maybe you’re my problem, Merlin.” The King all but snarls in the man’s direction. Merlin flinches back slightly, clearly not expecting that answer, or the tone of voice in which the words are delivered.

   Finally, after taking a moment to sort out his thoughts, Merlin replies, “I’m your problem? That’s rich coming from the man who’s had a stick shoved up his arse for the past couple weeks.”

   “Merlin,” Arthur starts, keeping his voice low and threatening, “go back to the tavern now. I will see you in the morning.”

   Merlin raises his chin defiantly. “No.”

   “No?” Arthur parrots back, frustrated and highly unimpressed.

   “That’s right. I’m not going anywhere until you behave like a decent human being and just tell me what’s wrong. Is it Gwaine? Are you angry because one of your knights has stooped low enough to be friends with your servant? I’d have thought you’d be better about that, all things considered.”

   The King’s eyes narrow. “All things considered?”

   “Yes.” Merlin snaps in irritation. “If the King can be friends with his servant, I don’t see why the knights can’t be.”

   Arthur sneers at him. “Friends is pushing it a bit, don’t you think?”

   Merlin face goes blank for a moment, and Arthur immediately feels guilty. He hadn’t meant that. Of course he hadn’t. Merlin was the closest thing to a real friend that Arthur had ever had. He was the only one who treated him as an equal. He had never given a damn about station, and never shied away from telling Arthur exactly what he thought about any given situation. Merlin was invaluable to Arthur, and more important than he could ever know.

   “Now you’re just being cruel.” Merlin says in a quiet but firm voice. Arthur bites his tongue to stop himself from apologizing. 

   “Go back, Merlin.” Arthur says, trying to sound as commanding as possible. Before the man can reply, Arthur spins on his heel and starts to continue on his way back to the castle. His steps feel heavier now, jealousy and guilt now warring in his chest. He’s not sure which one he’d rather have win.

   Insistent fingers once again clamp down on his arm, jolting him to a halt. Arthur seethes for a moment over the fact that the insolent man would just not do as he’s told. His control on his temper slipping, Arthur spins back around to face his manservant. 

   “What do you want, Merlin?” He shouts. Merlin glares at him. He works his jaw furiously, likes he spitting words up into his mouth, then chewing on them and swallowing them back down. Arthur continues to glare silently back, refusing to say another word until Merlin finally decides to speak up. Eventually, Merlin, too, seems to lose his grip on his anger. Arthur watches as his eyes cloud over, his face growing stormy.

   “Why are acting like such a prat, Arthur?” Merlin yells back. “Just tell me that one thing! Why are you being like this?” 

   The words bubble up in Arthur’s throat before he can stop them. They reach his lips and tongue, poised to tumble out of his mouth before his filter can kick in and shut them down. His heart pounds in his chest in equal parts anger and fear at what he knows is about to come out of his mouth. But he can’t stop them now.

   “Because I’m bloody well in love with you, you stupid idiot!”

   Silence rings around them following the King’s words. Merlin just stares at him blankly. If Arthur hadn’t just spewed out his deepest, darkest secret he would almost feel proud of himself for finally managing to shut him up. He grits his teeth, and turns his head away, looking over to one of the flickering torches to his right.

   He’s startled from his brooding thoughts by Merlin moving. He snaps his eyes back to face his manservant properly, and nearly yelps when he realizes how close the man has gotten in a short amount of time. He opens his mouth, ready to ask what Merlin thinks he is doing, tell Merlin to go back to the tavern, make up some excuse to just get out of the messed up situation, anything, but he never gets the chance. 

   Merlin’s mouth covers his, ripping Arthur’s ability to even think, let alone talk, completely out of his grasp. After a shocked moment, Arthur’s body starts to kiss back on its own, pressing closer to Merlin’s front and sighing into his mouth. Merlin’s restless hands gather up fistfuls of his tunic, manhandling him closer, and Arthur’s head spins. Teeth nip gently at his lower lip, startling a moan from Arthur’s mouth, and Merlin uses the opportunity to lick past the King’s lips, greedily swallowing the groan that follows. Arthur tangles a hand into Merlin’s hair without even realizing that he’s moving, pulling on the strands and sparking with interest when it makes the man whine softly in the back of his throat.

   When Merlin reluctantly pulls back to breathe, he’s panting heavily. However, he still manages to get out, “You love me?”

   Arthur nods mutely, aware that his clothes are rumpled thanks to Merlin’s fingers, and that his mouth is bitten and red and kiss swollen.

   “So that’s it?” Merlin pants incredulously. “All this time, you’ve just been jealous?”

   The tone of his words makes Arthur scowl. “Don’t patronize me, Merlin.”

   “I’m not. It’s just...” Merlin drags off his sentence, wrinkling his nose. “You’re a bit of an idiot.”

   Throwing his hands up in defeat, Arthur turns and starts to leave. He really didn’t feel like being insulted right now. He doesn’t get far before Merlin’s hands on his arm once again jolt him to a halt. He spins back around, exasperated.

   “What, Merlin?” He demands. “What do you want me to say? That I’ve hated watching Gwaine paw all over you like an energetic puppy? That every time you seem to bask in the attention, I want to hit something? Is that what you want?”

   Again, Merlin seems to struggle for words. “Arthur, I know Gwaine’s been flirting with me, but trust me what I say I’m not interested in him like that. We’re friends, that’s all. Maybe I did like the attention, but that’s only because no one has ever really given me that kind of attention before.” He shrugs helplessly, cheeks reddening slightly at the confession before softly adding, “Maybe I liked it because the person I wanted the attention from never seemed interested.”

   He glances up at Arthur shyly, staring at him through his thick, dark lashes. Arthur’s stomach somersaults as his heart beats double time in his chest. Merlin couldn’t mean him, could he? The flush to Merlin’s cheeks, and the longing look in his eyes, seem to tell otherwise.

   “You’re an idiot, Merlin. Why didn’t you just say something?” He huffs. 

   Merlin’s smile grows slightly. “Why didn’t you?” He easily retorts. Arthur grins crookedly, knowing that he really doesn’t have a counter argument to that. Instead, he just leans in closer, letting his forehead press gently against Merlin’s.

   “Does this mean I won’t have to watch Gwaine flirt with you anymore?” He asks.

   Merlin laughs softly, making Arthur’s heart flood with warmth. “I can’t promise that, but I can tell you that you won’t have to worry about me reciprocating. After all, my heart already belongs to someone else.”

   A mad flutter takes up residence in Arthur’s chest. “Is that so?” 

   “Mhmm.” Merlin nods as best he can. “But between you and me? He’s a bit of a prat. Spoiled and entitled, too.”

   The words startle a laugh out of Arthur, and Merlin smiles bright enough to rival the sun. As Arthur settles back down, Merlin leans closer to seal their lips together again. Arthur is acutely aware of the fact that they are still out on the street, and that anybody could look out their window or pass them by, and see them, but he’s finding it distinctly hard to care. Now that he knew he had Merlin, he wanted everyone else to know it too.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from tenaciouspeacesandwich on Tumblr: Merlin is cursed to die a slow and painful death unless he gets true love’s kiss, and everyone is devastated, since they know that Merlin’s never had any relationship that could give him what he needs. Arthur spends every waking moment beside his friend, and kisses him on the forehead once, and Merlin wakes up.

   The day dawned hot, the air almost heavy around the group as they readied their mounts for morning patrol. Merlin flittered between his horse and the King’s, muttering under his breath about how the prat should just stay here. As King, it wasn’t required for him to patrol the kingdom anymore. That’s why he had knights and guards. Of course, that didn’t stop him. The citadel was getting stuffy, according to His Royal Highness, and he just wanted to get out for a bit. Merlin couldn’t exactly begrudge him that, but he still had an uneasy pit in his stomach that refused to go away. That feeling that something bad was going to happen lingered in every single bone in Merlin’s body.

   “Are we ready yet, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice rings out across the courtyard as he appears at the top of the stone staircase. Merlin looks up from the last buckle he had to check, and nods.

   “Yes, Sire.” As Arthur descends the steps towards him, Merlin swallows. Once he’s deemed close enough, Merlin asks, again, “Is there nothing I can say to make you just stay here, Arthur?”

   He gets an unsavoury look from the King as he replies, “Your worry for my personal well being is touching, but no. I’m going, and that’s final.”

   Merlin sighs and steps back, allowing Arthur the room to gracefully swing up onto his mare’s back. The red cloak, golden dragon stitched expertly and flashing in the sun, drapes over Llamrei’s hindquarters. They truly do make a stunning sight. The King is all golden hair and flashing blue eyes, and the mare is all lean muscle and coiled power. Not for the first time, the duo nearly takes Merlin’s breath away.

   Turning, he mounts his own horse, an old gelding that was trustworthy and patient. Merlin had formed an easy partnership with the animal, and rarely rode anything else. Once everyone is settled on their horses, the King signals them to move out. Merlin rides up closer to Arthur’s side, unwilling to leave him unprotected while his gut is still writhing with uncertainty. Arthur glances at him long enough to shoot him an indulgent but reassuring smile. It does little to soothe Merlin’s nerves, but it does make his heart flutter like a fool.

   As they leave the citadel behind and become surrounded by trees and fresh air, Merlin starts to let himself think that maybe his worry is all for nothing. There wasn’t a branch, or a flower, or a bird out of place. Arthur seems to be thinking the same thing, because he turns to grin smugly at Merlin beside him, but he never gets the chance to say anything.

   “King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot!” A woman yells as she suddenly appears in their path ahead. “You are the legacy of hatred, and blood, and fear. You will pay for the the tyrant Uther Pendragon’s sins!”

   The ground shakes around them as her words are bellowed. Her eyes are flaring yellow, her face livid as she reaches both hands up towards the sky. As she starts chanting, the air around them sizzles and pops. A glowing light circles around her hands as she continues, her voice rising in pitch until she’s screaming the word at the sky. As she drops her gaze, locking lethal eyes on the King, Merlin knows she’s about to kill him. She finishes her spell with one last roared word, and stretches her hands out forward. Arthur stares at her, shocked and frozen, and Merlin does the only thing he can think of. He launches himself off his horse’s back, tackling Arthur to the ground. Arthur tumbles off Llamrei’s back, the mare shying violently away from him, as a blast of light connects with Merlin’s chest, sending him flying backwards.

   The sorceress roars in outrage, hands raised again, but she doesn’t get any further than that. Lancelot’s sword thrusts through her chest from behind, and she slumps to the ground wheezing and coughing her last breaths. Arthur pays her no mind, only having eyes for Merlin, still crumpled on the ground at the base of a thick tree.

   “Merlin?” He calls, scrambling to his feet and rushing over to his friend. As he drops to the ground at his side, Merlin groans.

   “I’m fine. I’m fine.” Merlin wheezes as he struggles to push himself upright. He manages to get himself seated, looking around the area is a bit of a daze. He spots the lifeless body of the sorceress quite a distance away, and only then realizes how far her spell had thrown him. His head is throbbing where it had connected with the tree behind him, and his body aches from his fall to the ground. What worries him, however, is the slight tightness in his chest. He had never felt anything like it, but he chalks it up to adrenaline, and from being tossed through the air.

   “Can you ride?” Arthur asks, worry bleeding through his tone. Merlin nods numbly. He’s sure he can. Maybe.

   Getting to his feet proves to be more difficult than he expects, and although he wants to shake off Arthur’s helping hands, he forces himself to accept them. Still, the touch leaves him feeling jittery, and he hopes that Arthur doesn’t notice how his heart rate has picked up. The knights are all on the ground now, holding their horses’ reins, concerned eyes tracking his and the King’s movements to where their own horses stood waiting for them. No one says a word, and for that, Merlin is grateful. 

   He struggles up onto his horse, heavily aided by the King, and only barely manages to stay on as they turn around and begin to make their way back to the city. He steadfastly ignores the worried glances that Arthur shoots his way. He offers his friends a taut smile each, hoping it’s enough to get them off his back later. The men with him all purse their lips unhappily, but say nothing.

   As they clatter noisily into the courtyard, several servants and guards rush to meet them. The King is off his horse first, moving swiftly to help Merlin down. Even with his steadying hands, Merlin’s legs nearly buckle and send him to the ground as his feet hit the stones. Arthur curses in his ear, wrapping his arms tighter around Merlin’s body, which only makes his shaking worse. A guard approaches them, and Arthur tosses him a quick look.

   “Get word to Gaius now that he’s needed immediately. And assemble the councilmen necessary to discuss a potential threat to the city.” He says. The guard nods and rushes off, two more going with him. Merlin watches them go listlessly. The tightness in his chest and spread to his gut as well. His breathing is shaky and hurried, but Merlin tells himself it’s just a reaction to what had happened. Arthur had nearly been killed, he had been sent flying, he very well may have a concussion, and Arthur was still pressed against his side, strong arm wrapping around his waist to help support his weight. He was fine, it was just shock.

   It takes a while to get to the Court Physician’s chambers, and by the time they burst through the door, Merlin is out of breath. Gaius, however, is waiting for them. He pales slightly when he sees Merlin, practically hanging off of the King.

   “Come, set him down here.” Gaius says, gesturing to the cot set up and reserved for patients. Arthur crosses the room quickly, Merlin protesting their fast movements feebly. As he’s settled gently down, though, he feels marginally better. Still, his head is pounding, and his eyes hurt now, making him blink in the light steaming in through the windows. “What happened?”

   Merlin isn’t sure if Gaius is asking Merlin himself, or Arthur, but it’s the King that replies. “We ran into a sorceress on patrol, one who tried to no doubt kill me, and Merlin here shoved me aside and took the entire brunt of the spell to the chest. Sent him flying.”

   The physician tuts softly as he begins looking Merlin over. He checks Merlin’s eyes, looks in his mouth, feels his pulse, asks him to flex his fingers. Merlin loses track of everything Gaius has him do, too focused on the dark feeling growing in his chest. It felt oily and slick and painful. The sensation fills him with dread. Whatever curse he had taken on, it wasn’t a walk in the park.

   “How are you feeling, Merlin?” Gaius asks. The warlock is acutely aware of Arthur watching him intently, waiting to hear Merlin’s reply as well.

   “I’m fine.” Merlin lies easily. “Just a little shaken up. Nothing to worry about.”

   The physician looks at Merlin, studying his face for any hint of a lie, and Merlin schools his features into his best innocent look as possible. He needs to fool Gaius. If Gaius has concerns, he will tell the King, and if Arthur has concerns, then he will never leave Merlin alone about them.

   With a sigh, Gaius straightens up. “I don’t see anything obvious, Sire.” He tells the King. Arthur adopts a decidedly pinched look. “I’m afraid we’ll just have to keep an eye on him. For now, though, I don’t see why he can’t return to his duties as usual.”

   Arthur nods, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. Thank you, Gaius.” The physician nods respectfully, then moves to pack up his supplies. When Arthur turns to Merlin, Merlin swallows down the pressing feeling in his chest, and looks back impassively.

   “You’re to return to my chambers, Merlin. You can start on you’re regular duties while I go inform the council of what happened, and think up necessary measures in case there are more disgruntled sorcerers on the loose.” He says. Merlin nods weakly, too tired to try and argue. When he tries to get to his feet, a lance of pain shoots up his legs, and he gasps. His hands reach out to grasp at the nearest thing to help keep himself upright, which just so happens to be the King’s outstretched forearms.

   “Merlin?” Arthur asks. Gaius looks up from where he had been pulling books from various shelves, eyebrow raised as he assesses the situation. Merlin grits his teeth.

   “‘M fine.” He mumbles. “Just stood up too fast. A little achey from my fall.”

   Arthur doesn’t look like he believes him, but he lets it slide. Instead of replying, he just wraps his arm snugly around Merlin’s shoulders again and helps lead him to the door. They pause in the open doorway, and Arthur shares a look with Gaius over his shoulder. Merlin ignores them, focusing on his breathing and trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Something was wrong. He could feel it deep inside himself. He keeps the knowledge to himself, however, simply letting the King help him up to his chambers.

~~~

   By that evening, it becomes more apparent to Merlin that something is wrong. He aches all over, and his chest feels even tighter. Walking up one flight of stairs has him short of breath, and desperate for a break. He isn’t in fighting shape, like Arthur and the knights, but he is in better shape than this. Still, he says nothing. He doesn’t want to worry anyone needlessly. He probably just needed a good rest, and he’d be fine by morning.

   Getting back to Gaius’ chambers is difficult, and takes much longer than it normally would. He stops for breaks what feels like every few steps, and by the time he makes it through the door, the hour is late and his nerves are frayed.

   “Did Arthur keep you?” Gaius asks as he looks up from his book open on the table. A bowl of stew is waiting on the table across from him. Though he feels bad for lying, Merlin nods.

   “Yeah. Just some last minute things he needed me to do.” Merlin crosses the room and slowly sinks down onto the bench across from his mentor. He feels Gaius’ appraising eyes on him, but he ducks his head and focuses solely on eating. Even that is a chore, his shoulders aching every time he lifts the spoon to his mouth. He eats as much as he can, but when the exhaustion becomes too much, he pushes the bowl away.

   “I’m gonna head to bed now. I think I just need to rest, and I’ll be fine tomorrow.” He lies. He knows he won’t be fine in the morning. He doesn’t know how he knows, perhaps it’s his magic picking up on something that the rest of him hasn’t yet, but there’s something in the back of his mind telling him that he needed to worry.

   “Of course, Merlin. Rest, and I will clean this up.” Gaius says softly, and Merlin realizes then and there that Gaius suspects that Merlin isn’t telling him the truth. Merlin shoots him a wan smile and shakily gets to his feet. He barely makes it up the short flight of steps up into his room, and practically collapses into his bed. The last thing he knows before he slips into a fitful sleep, is that dark and oily feeling spreading further out from his chest.

~~~

   Come morning, Merlin’s condition has not improved. His body feels just as weak as it had before, if not moreso, and his lungs feel like they have shrunk in size. A noticeable barb feels, like it’s been wrapped around his heart, extending down to twine around his insides, and his hope deflates. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to go away on its own.

   After struggling through his duties all day, earning himself quite a few worried looks from not only the King, but also from the knights and Gwen, Merlin returns home feeling ragged and worn. When Gaius looks up from where he’s preparing their dinner, a concerned crease has taken up residence on his brow. Merlin knows he wants the truth, and for the first time since the curse hit him, he feels inclined to give it.

   “Gaius,” he says, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounds. “Gaius, I don’t think I’m okay.”

   It felt like both a relief and a burden to admit those words out loud. Gaius merely nods and leaves the pot still bubbling over the fire in favour of moving across the room to a stack of books.

   “Merlin, I need you to tell me everything you remember from yesterday, and exactly how you are feeling now.” The physician orders gently.

   Merlin nods mutely. He doesn’t actually remember a whole lot from the previous morning. He was too focused on keeping Arthur and his friends safe, that he missed pretty much everything the sorceress had chanted. He screws his eyes closed and tries to focus, which is a feat in an of itself, given the way his head feels like its spinning. Slowly, he tells Gaius about what the woman had said before she started casting her spell. How Arthur was the legacy of all things bad, and how he would pay for the wrongs his father had committed. He vaguely remembers the woman yelling her words at the sky, a light forming around her outstretched hands, and that’s it. All that was left in Merlin’s mind after that was an intense pain, then Arthur helping him back to the castle. As they had journeyed home, the pain had receded, and Merlin had hoped that his own magic had protected him from whatever ill effects the curse was meant to produce.

   “And now?” Gaius prods. “How do you feel now?”

   The warlock swallows. “Now, I feel like my lungs are shrinking, and my heart is being squeezed. Every muscle in my body aches, and my head is pounding.”

   The physician purses his lips, then grabs the nearest book and starts to read. Merlin resigns himself to a long night of research, and pulls another book closer until it rests under his nose. His vision swims for a moment, and he blinks furiously to clear it. Once he can make out the inked words, he slowly starts to read.

   It’s several hours later that Gaius inhales sharply, and snaps his head up to look Merlin over. Merlin raises tired eyebrows. “Please tell me you found something.”

   “The curse that woman cast on you, is one of a handful of dark, death curses, once only used by the highest of sorcerers in the Old Religion.” Gaius replies.

   A groan slips past Merlin’s lips. “That really doesn’t sound promising. What kind of death are we talking about?”

   “A slow and painful one, I’m afraid.” Is the response he gets. He wrinkles his nose in distaste.

   “Naturally.” He replies listlessly. “How do we break it? What’s the counter-curse?” When only silence lingers in the air, Merlin properly looks up at his mentor. “Gaius?”

   The man sighs. “The only thing that can break this particular curse, I’m afraid, is true love’s kiss.”

   The words settle hot and heavy in Merlin’s heart. True love’s kiss. It couldn’t have been something simpler? Something attainable? He swallows, and blinks, and lets his eyes fall back down to the book below him. The words have once again blurred, but he doesn’t care. They no longer matter, after all, because it seemed that nothing could be done.

   Forcing himself to look back up at Gaius, he says the words quietly. “I’m going to die, Gaius.”

   The man exhales heavily. “Is there truly no one?” He asks. Merlin flinches slightly, and looks up at him with sad, resigned eyes. Gaius’ features soften, and he looks back at him knowingly. “Oh, Merlin. Perhaps if you just talked to—“

   “No.” Merlin replies. “No. It wouldn’t work, Gaius. You said yourself, it has to be true love. A kiss out of pity won’t work.”

   Silence reigns over the pair as they both contemplate Merlin’s words. Gaius wants to argue the point, Merlin can tell, but he doesn’t. Merlin is grateful for that.

   “In that case,” Gaius replies sadly, “we must inform the King.”

   At that very moment, Arthur chooses to burst through the physician’s door. His eyebrows are pinched together, and he has an oddly concerned scowl on his face. He eyes the two of them almost warily as he slowly approaches. Gaius looks back, sadly resigned, and Merlin feels like he’s going to vomit.

   “Inform me of what?” Arthur asks, when neither one speaks up. Merlin shares a look with Gaius, and subtly shakes his head. Yes, they needed to tell Arthur about what was happening to Merlin, but the warlock didn’t want Arthur to know that there was a cure. Gaius nods almost imperceptibly back, though his eyes spoke volumes on his opinion of the matter.

   “The curse the sorceress put on Merlin yesterday, it’s meant to bring death.” Gaius announces emotionlessly. Arthur pales, eyes darting to Merlin’s face.

   “Death? So, you’re...” He trails off, unable to say the words. But Merlin can hear them clear as day.

   “Yes, Arthur. Eventually, I’m going to die.” Merlin keeps his voice low, but his words still seem to ring and reverberate through the room. Arthur pales further, looking desperately at Gaius for any sign of hope.

   “Is there no cure?” He asks, an edge to his voice that Merlin had never heard before. Merlin’s stomach twists into a knot as Gaius silently studies the young king.

   “No, Sire. I’m afraid there is nothing that can be done.”

   Merlin doesn’t hear whatever Arthur says in reply. He’s surely demanding that Gaius keep looking. Merlin ignores his raised voice, and merely studies his face. The curve of his jaw, the line of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. Even his mouth, downturned into a frown now, catches his attention, imprinting in Merlin’s mind. If he had to die, he at least wanted to try and remember what Arthur looked like for as long as possible.

~~~

   Arthur tries to make Merlin rest, but despite the pain growing every day, Merlin refuses. If these are to be his last days, he wants to spend them in as normal a way as possible. He wants to continue spending time with Arthur, listening to him talk, and laugh. He wants to see him smile as much as he can before the curse inevitably takes his life.

   It’s Lancelot and Gwen who find out Merlin’s secret first. They corner him on his slow journey back to his and Gaius’ chambers a few nights after telling Arthur, and then his closest friends, about his fate. He doesn’t know how they found out about the cure for his cursed demise, or how they found out who Merlin loved, but they desperately plead with him to talk to Arthur. When he refuses, they demand to know why. In a soft, broken voice, he tells them that he wouldn’t be able to stand the look of pity and guilt on Arthur’s face when the King told him that his embrace wouldn’t work. That he didn’t love Merlin back.

   A day after Lancelot and Gwen, Gwaine learns the truth. He offers up a kiss of his own in desperation, but Merlin just smiles sadly. As much as Merlin adored Gwaine, he didn’t love him. Not in the way needed to save his life. It doesn’t take long after that for everyone to learn the truth behind Merlin’s illness. Everyone, except Arthur. After each encounter, Merlin begs them not to breathe a word of the truth to the King. Each one fights the soft plea from their weakening friend, but eventually they all agree.

~~~

   A little over a sennight later, Merlin ends up bedridden. He grows too weak to rise to his feet, or even force himself to eat or drink anything. The barbs around his heart dig in tighter, and he can almost imagine the sharp points cutting into him. He has a steady stream of visitors throughout the days, but it isn’t one of the knights, or even Gwen, who remains unfailingly by his side. It’s the King himself, always seated by the bed, ready with a cool cloth, or some ice for when Merlin needs water but can’t properly drink. The matters of the court are passed to Leon, whom Arthur trusts explicitly to make decisions in Arthur’s and Camelot’s best interests.

   Merlin’s heart, though suffocating as it was, still stutters in his chest as Arthur’s fingers gently brush through his hair. He tries to give the King a smile, but it feels pained and delicate and everything that a proper smile is not. Arthur’s answering look speaks volumes, but no words are passed between them. Words, at this point, were useless. Words would not save Merlin’s life, and they could not turn back time and stop the sorceress from ever hurting him in the first place. As Merlin feels the curse dig itself deeper into him, he contemplates the idea of coming clean to Arthur about his feelings for him. Would his state prevent the King from getting angry about the affections that had grown in Merlin over time?

   “Merlin, is there truly no cure?” Arthur’s desperate voice asks again. There’s a hint of something else lingering in his tone as well, but Merlin is too out of it to truly analyze what it could possibly be.

   He shakes his head slightly from side to side. “None that can be done, Arthur.” He croaks back in reply. When Arthur looks up sharply, Merlin winces. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

   “You’re sorry for what?” The King demands weakly. 

   “For letting this happen. For lying to you for so long about my magic. For putting you and our friends through this. I’m just... sorry.” His voice weakens as he speaks, and he can feel it. It won’t be long now. Thick tendrils of heat and darkness have worked their way around his insides, twisting around them until he can’t tell where they end and he begins anymore. 

   The King huffs a watery laugh. “Trust you to apologize for dying, Merlin.” His voice cracks on the warlock’s name, and it sends a jolt of new pain spiralling though Merlin’s heart. 

   Merlin coughs slightly, and his chest constricts around his lungs, preventing him from taking a proper breath. “I want you to know something, Arthur.” He wheezes. Arthur’s eyes look suspiciously glassy as he nods for Merlin to continue. “I—I want you to know that. I love you.”

   Arthur inhales sharply, sitting back in his seat with wide eyes. Merlin blinks his eyes closed, losing his ability to talk as he tries to just breathe. Even that becomes a chore. He coughs again, his entire chest protesting and heaving, and his body shudders. Not long now.

   Darkness is pulling at his mind, whispering soothing words in his ear, when he feels a shaky pair of chapped lips press to his sweaty forehead. The reaction in his body is immediate, and he gasps heavily. A different kind of heat courses through his body, tangling with the slick tendrils curling around his heart, his lungs, his gut. It pulls, and pulls, and heaves the dark and oily fingers way, rushing in to soothe the pain away. Merlin coughs and chokes as air rushes unhindered into his lungs, and he shoots up in his little bed, hand pressed tightly to his chest as he tries to regulate his body’s sudden need to fill itself with life. Meanwhile, Arthur sits back and watches in shock.

   Finally, Merlin looks over at him with watery eyes. The King is looking back with barely concealed hope in his eyes, but also fear and confusion. Merlin really can’t blame him for that. What he had just witnessed must have been quite a shock.

   “Merlin?” Arthur finally manages to get out. “What exactly just happened? What did I do?”

   The warlock’s face colours crimson. “I may have lied about the cure.” He mumbles.

   A moment of silence passes between them before Arthur says, “Meaning what, exactly?”

   “Meaning,” Merlin starts, unable to meet Arthur’s eyes, “that there was one, but I didn’t tell you about it.”

   “Why?” Arthur splutters out incredulously. “If there was a chance to save your life, why not tell me?”

   The warlock shrugs helplessly. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated.” He breathes out. One look at the King’s confused face, and he elaborates. “The only cure that Gaius could find was... was true love’s kiss. There was only one person in Camelot who that could be for me, but I didn’t think it would work.”

   A deathly quiet settles over the room, and Merlin feels like he’s suffocating all over again. His words and ringing in his ears, incriminating. When he chances a look at Arthur again, his face is unreadable. His jaw is working, like he’s clenching and unclenching his teeth. Chewing over words carefully before ultimately choosing the ones he wants to say.

   When he can no longer stand the silence, Merlin drops his gaze and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

   Arthur, however, shakes his head. “No, Merlin, it is I who should be sorry. You were dying, and had only one way to prevent it, and you felt that you could not come to me.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “The truth is, Merlin, that you are much more important to me than just a servant, or advisor, or a friend. You mean a great deal to me, and I know that I don’t often show it.”

   Merlin looks up with wide eyes. “What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice.

   “I mean,” Arthur says softly, catching Merlin’s eyes and not letting go, “that you told me that you loved me, and it nearly broke me because I thought I had finally gotten what I had always wanted, only to have to watch it slip through my fingers like smoke.”

   He leans closer, and takes Merlin’s hands tightly into his. Neither one comments on how Merlin’s are shaking slightly. “I mean, that I love you, too. With all my heart.”

   Merlin can’t help the gasp that slips out past his parted lips. Had Arthur really just said that? He flicks his eyes over the King’s face, looking for any hint of a lie hidden somewhere on his features. When he finds none, he finally lets himself dare to hope.

   “Yeah?” He breathes, and he can’t quite bring himself to feel embarrassed at how hopeful he sounds. He had just been about to die, after all.

   Arthur doesn’t answer. Not verbally, anyway. Instead he leans closer still and presses a gentle kiss to Merlin’s lips. The warlock sucks in a shocked breath before melting into his King, squeezing the hands still held tightly around his own. He kisses back with something akin to desperation. He had never let himself even dream of what kissing Arthur would feel like, knowing that it would hurt too much later when he remembered that he could never have it. 

   When Arthur slowly pulls away, Merlin blinks open his eyes and finds Arthur’s blue ones already staring back with a firm kind of seriousness. “Next time you’re dying, please tell me all the facts, you idiot. I will not let you almost slip away from me again.”

   The words bring tears to Merlin’s eyes, and he surprises himself by choking on a sob. Wrestling his hands free from Arthur’s, he allows himself to fall forwards into him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he buries his nose in Arthur’s neck. He shudders as Arthur wraps him up in his arms, pulling him closer. Merlin has never felt more safe, or secure, or protected than he does in that moment. He knows that he needs to get up, go see Gaius and his friends. He needs to talk to Arthur properly about everything, about where they were going, and what they wanted to be to each other now that the truth was out. For now, though, he relaxes in his love’s strong arms and simply breathes him in, marvelling at how much easier it was to breathe now than it ever had been before.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from Donts on AO3: One of them is in a rush, or tired, and not really thinking and ends up kissing the other as like a “goodbye” kiss before leaving for work or a “thank you” kiss for like cooking breakfast or something. There’s a second before they realize what they’ve done and just like 👁👄👁

   When Merlin and Arthur first met, they mixed about as well as oil and water. They hated each other. It was right out of high school, and Arthur was going straight into university. Despite his father’s assurances that he could stay at home and commute to campus, Arthur had decided to stay on campus in their Residence building. He claimed it was to make it easier for him to get to and from class, when in reality he just wanted a taste of what freedom was actually like. Naturally, he had requested to have a room to himself. He didn’t want to share his space with someone he had never met. He was assured that his request would be honoured.

   The day he was meant to move in, he walked into his room, only to pull up short when another boy was already there. He had ended up applying for housing late, and the extra room in Arthur’s dorm was the only room available. Arthur’s first impression of Merlin was that he looked ridiculous. While Arthur was all solid muscle from years of playing football and rugby, Merlin (seriously, who named their kid that??) was lean and lanky. He had long arms, and sharp angles, and two ears that could practically be considered satellite dishes coming off either side of his head. And Arthur hated him on sight.

   Arthur vowed to himself that he would get Merlin gone by the end of the day. When that didn’t happen, he took his frustration out on his new roommate. When he wasn’t ignoring Merlin’s existence entirely, he was hurling insults at him. What was supposed to intimidate Merlin, only made him angry. Arthur learned very quickly that Merlin could give just as good as he got. He refused to like the boy, however.

   Late one night, after staying behind after footie practice to work on drills on his own, Arthur was returning to the residence building when he heard students shouting. He had a sinking feeling in his chest when he realized that he recognized one of the voices. He hurried his steps, following the angry words being tossed about. Rounding one of the buildings, he found a group of four guys. One of them was being pinned to the brick wall by two big, burly, no doubt brainless, idiots. The fourth was sneering in the first one’s face.

   “Hey!” Arthur had shouted, startling everyone. He was running before any of the other boys could move, grabbing the collar of the fourth boy’s shirt, and acquainting his face quite closely with his balled up fist. He had managed to get a few good hits in on the other two before all three were scampering away like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs.

   “Are you okay?” He had asked Merlin, panting hard from the exertion and adrenaline. He had never been in a real fight before. 

   “You didn’t have to do that.” Merlin had replied, in a bit of a daze. “Why did you do that?”

   Arthur had just levelled him with a look. “I’m the only one allowed to rough you up, you understand? Anyone ever tries to mess with you again, you tell me. If they want you, they have to go through me.”

   From that moment on, Merlin and Arthur were inseparable. They were rarely seen without the other. They walked to class together. Shared lunch together when their schedules allowed. Merlin went to every one of Arthur’s football games, always cheering the loudest from the stands. They studied together, Merlin helping quiz Arthur on different topics, and Arthur returning the favour. Arthur taught Merlin basic self defence, so if anyone ever tried to come at him again when Arthur wasn’t there to protect him, he could fend for himself. In theory anyway. 

   At the end of their first year, they agreed to return to student residence the following term, and requested to room together. Their routine held for their second year as well, and when that one came to an end, they found a two bedroom flat nearby, and moved in together. 

   Their remaining years at university passed by in a blur of going to class, doing homework, studying for exams, and going to parties. Even those, they attended together. It was common knowledge that when one was invited somewhere, the other was sure to follow. There were a few tense moments from time to time, when one would bring home a casual hook-up that had turned into something more than just causal, but those relationships rarely lasted more than five or six months. They were told that they were too “codependent”, too “involved in each other’s lives”. They simply refused to pick someone else over their best friend.

   After they graduated university, they both went out into the world, but they never left their shared two bedroom flat. It was just as much home to them as the other one was. They shared the cleaning duties, took turns cooking, started weekly movie nights. They each had their own group of friends, people they either met at work or they had kept in touch with from school. But they never replaced each other. Merlin and Arthur were very much MerlinandArthur, and nothing was ever going to change that.

~~~

   The sunlight is streaming softly in through the crack in the curtains, somehow managing to fall directly across Arthur’s face. The sun was how far away? And it still manages to get in his eyes through a closed curtain. With an unhappy grunt, he rolls away, intent on going back to sleep until his alarm went off. He settles on his stomach, arms under his pillow, and face buried in it. It only takes a moment after that for his head to shoot up. It was Monday, therefore he had work today, and his alarm always goes off before the sun has a chance to assault his eyes. 

   In a panic, he flops onto his back and scrambles for his phone. He’s praying that he’s wrong, that he’ll see 6:15 on the screen, instead of something else. His stomach doesn’t just sink, it practically disappears when he sees 7:03 instead.

   “Shit!” He yells, scrambling to get out of the sheets twisted around his legs. He nearly makes it, but still takes a tumble onto the floor. He barely even registers the ache blooming in his arse as he hauls himself to his feet and makes for the closet. He wrenches the doors open, pulls out the first business causal clothes he sees, and tosses them on the bed. Leaving the doors open, he hurries across the room to pull a fresh pair of briefs from out of a drawer. He tosses those onto the bed too.

   He very nearly tumbles to the floor again as he strips his pyjamas off, and hastily pulls his work clothes on. His heart is pounding in his chest, each beat seeming to say, “You’re late, you’re late, you’re late.” When he finally has everything on, he wrenches the bedroom door open, quickly doing up the buttons of his shirt as he steps out into the hall. A quick stop in the bathroom has him trying to tame the wild bedhead of golden locks on his head, and then he’s practically running for the door.

   “Oi, Arthur!” Merlin calls from their small kitchen. He doesn’t really have the time to stop and chat, but he follows his friend’s voice anyway. Seeing Merlin in the morning was one of the only things that ever had his day bearable sometimes.

   “I’m running late, Merlin.” Is all Arthur says as he ducks into the kitchen quickly. He spots Merlin at the counter, placing an expertly made breakfast burrito in some tinfoil, and wrapping it up carefully.

   “I know.” Merlin replies, picking up the wrapped burrito, and grabbing a travel mug. “That’s why I made these for you. I didn’t hear your alarm go off, and I knew you wouldn’t have time to eat on the way to work. You’re insufferable in the morning without breakfast and coffee, so here.”

   He holds the items in his hands out with a grin. The sheer force of Arthur’s sudden gratefulness for his best friend is so strong, that his knees go a little weak. He steps fully into the kitchen, reaching out to take his breakfast from his friend’s hands.

   “Thank you, Merlin.” He says sincerely. “You are honestly the best.”

   Without thinking, he steps closer still, and plants a chaste kiss on Merlin’s lips. It only lasts a second, just long enough for Arthur to suddenly know what Merlin’s mouth feels like, and then he’s pulling back and rushing for the door again. He carefully sets his breakfast down, pulling on his shoes and shrugging his jacket on over his shoulders. After a quick check to make sure that he has his keys, he’s grabbing his food back up into his hands, and half turning back to the rest of the flat.

   “I can’t get to my keys right now, Merlin, you’ll have to lock up behind me!” He doesn’t get a reply, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it. Instead, he fiddles with the door handle until it swing opens, and practically jumps through. It’s as he’s fumbling the door closed behind him, trying not to drop anything, that what he just did inside fully hits him. He freezes in place, mouth falling open. Had he— He just— No. But yes. He had just kissed his best friend. And for what? Making him breakfast? 

   As panic starts to seep into his mind, he hears movement in their flat behind him. He nearly yelps, and jumps forward. If Merlin was having the same realization as he was, he really didn’t want to be here when Merlin opened the door to see if he had left yet. He races down the hall, silently apologizing to their neighbours. He all but crashes through the door leading to the stairs, not wanting to risk waiting for the elevator. By the time he’s made it out of the apartment building doors, he’s panting, and feels hot and sweaty. His heart is pounding in his chest, although he isn’t entirely sure if that’s from his mad dash to leave, or from what had happened in the kitchen. 

   He slows his steps marginally as he walks down the sidewalk towards the Tube station. He had a car, and a perfectly good license, but trying to park the damn thing anywhere in London was more trouble than it was worth. All he could hope for was that he hadn’t overslept so much that he missed his morning commute altogether. With that thought in mind, he speeds up a bit. He’s not running, or even jogging, but he’s speed walking enough that the sweaty feeling clinging to his back grows stronger and more noticeable. He grits his teeth, and pushes on.

   He makes it to the station just in time to jump onto the train, stumbling down into a vacant seat just as the doors close behind him. Heaving a sigh, he carefully peels back some of the foil, and starts to eat the breakfast that Merlin had so willingly made for him. It tastes amazing, as Merlin’s cooking usually does, and he has to bite back the moan of appreciation as he takes another bite. His coffee, similarity, is perfect. Just on the right side of bitter, and he makes a mental note to text Merlin later and thank him. Or maybe he should wait, after what he had done. His cheeks heat up at the memory, and he balls up the empty tinfoil and shoves it in his coat pocket.

   When his stop finally arrives, he leaps to his feet and jumps off the train. He keeps his steps quick, but not too hurried as he makes for the tall building where he worked. Some of the tension rolls off his shoulders as he steps through the main doors. Smiling politely to the receptionist, Sophia, he makes his way to the elevator doors. The woman smiles back, a flirty glint in her eyes. Arthur resolutely avoids her gaze. When the elevator doors ding open, he steps on, spinning to push the seventh floor button. He relaxes a little more once he’s on his way up to his office.

   Leon looks up as Arthur approaches his desk. He raises his eyebrows at him as he says, “It’s not like you to not be the first one here. Everything okay?”

   Arthur pales, slumping into the chair on the other side of Leon’s desk. “Please kill me.” He mumbles as he drops his head dramatically to the mahogany wood.

   “I don’t think arriving just on time is quite worthy of such a punishment, Arthur.” Leon replies pleasantly. Arthur shifts his head so his chin is resting on the desk instead of his forehead. He looks up at his friend through his eyelashes pitifully. 

   “That’s not why.” He whines. “Leon, I did something really stupid this morning.”

   The man raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I’m sure whatever you did is not that bad.” His reassuring tone just makes Arthur whimper slightly, and bring his arms up to wrap around his face. He knows his cheeks are flaring red again, and he really doesn’t want his friend to see them.

   “I kissed him.” He says, the words horribly muffled by his arms.

   “Arthur, you know I didn’t hear that.” Leon replies. 

   With a reluctant and heavy sigh, Arthur lifts his head, but keeps his eyes downcast. “Leon, I kissed him. Merlin. It was an accident, but I still did, and now I don’t know what to do.”

   Silence meets his words, and he grits his teeth and forces himself to look up at his friend. To his surprise, he’s met with a pleased smile. His brow furrows as he looks back. What about his admission made Leon look at him like that? 

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks a little defensively. Leon just shakes his head slightly, his pleased smile turning almost fond, with just a hint of something that could be long suffering. Or maybe an end to his long suffering. Arthur couldn’t really tell.

   “Arthur, I know you’re panicking about this, but I really don’t think it’s a bad thing.” Leon says softly. Arthur frowns.

   “Well, I don’t see how it’s a good thing. You know how long Merlin and I have been friends? What if I screwed everything up?” He protests weakly. Leon just shakes his head again, already turning back to his computer.

   “Like you said, you and Merlin have been friends for a long time. If this changes anything, I firmly believe it will only be for the better.” 

   Arthur’s mouth drops open, but when Leon doesn’t say anything else, or even look at him again he pushes himself out of his chair, and makes his way to his own office. His mind is a whirlwind of half formed thoughts. Did he have feelings for Merlin? Sure, he thought the man was attractive. His first impression of the man’s looks from when they first met had been made out of misplaced maliciousness. He had often looked at his best friend over the ears, and just contented himself with gazing fondly at his sharp cheekbones, or the black locks curling around his ears when he was in desperate need of a haircut. His eyes often left him feeling a little fluttery, especially when they were crinkled with a smile. And Merlin’s laugh? 

   It feels like a cold wave washes over him as the realization hits him full force. He had a crush on his best friend. More than that. He very well might be a little bit in love with him. He drops his head into his hands and groans pitifully. Now what?

~~~

   The day seems to crawl by, and by the time he’s stepping off the train at his stop, he feels like he might be physically sick. Shaky legs carry him toward their apartment building, and he once again opts for the stairs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s futilely hoping that the exercise will work off some of his nerves. How did he face Merlin again after what he did this morning? Or after that he had figured out at work?

   “Merlin?” He calls softly as he unlocks their door and steps hesitantly inside. He almost feels relieved when there’s no immediate reply. Perhaps Merlin was out. Grocery shopping, maybe. Or meeting up with one of his work mates. Those hopes get dashed when a wild haired Merlin suddenly appears out of the kitchen. He looks a little mad, his eyes wide, and his hair sticking up in angles like he had been running his hands relentlessly through it all day.

   “There you are! Finally!” He says, then stalks forward. Arthur splutters nonsense, backing up until he meets the solid wooden door behind him. A very real part of him is worried that Merlin is about to deck him in the jaw. Maybe teaching him those self defence moves all those years ago was a bad idea, after all.

   “Look, about this morning, I’m sor—“ He doesn’t to finish his hasty apology. Merlin’s hands settle on his hips, pinning him to the door behind him. They feel like hot irons on his body, branding him as Merlin’s. That startling thought makes Arthur gasp slightly. He looks directly into Merlin’s eyes, sees them darken slightly, and he really has no idea what to expect anymore. A very manly squeak leaves his mouth as Merlin surges forward and captures his lips with his own.

   After a second of frenzied thought, Arthur’s body relaxes completely, leaning heavily back against the door as he kisses Merlin back. His own hands reach up to bury themselves in Merlin’s hair, making his friend shiver slightly and press closer. Arthur’s brain fully short circuits as he feels all of Merlin snugly fit along his own body. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

   Merlin pulls away with a soft gasp. “Bloody hell, Arthur.” He pants out between heavy breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that? Or how much I’ve been going out of my mind since this morning? You can’t just kiss and run like that without giving me a chance to respond. It’s not fair.”

   “Wait, what?” Arthur asks, feeling a little slow and a lot stupid. Was Merlin saying what he thought he was saying?

   His friend shakes his head fondly, leaning closer to nuzzle at his nose, a huff of laughter spreading out over his mouth. Arthur shivers again, going a little more boneless than before.

   “I forgot how slow you can be sometimes.” Merlin murmurs fondly. “So I’ll spell it out for you.” Pulling back, he meets Arthur’s eyes, his face suddenly very serious. “I have been in love with for longer than I can remember, I just never thought I’d have a chance with you so I never said anything. I was happy to just be your best mate, you know? But when you kissed me this morning...”

   He drags his sentence off as he looks over Arthur’s stunned face carefully. “Oh.” He wheezes slightly. “Oh. You didn’t mean to, did you?” He steps back hastily, panic and dread flooding his features. “Oh, bugger.”

   Arthur reaches out for him before he can go too far. “Wait, Merlin. Wait!” He says in a rush. “Yes, it was an accident this morning, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the same. It just took a little... soul searching to figure it out. And maybe a little push from Leon, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I feel the same. And I probably always have, I’ve just never been in love before, not really, so I never recognized it for what it was until I kissed you this morning.”

   Merlin is staring at him, lips slightly parted as he works through the rambling jumble of Arthur’s words. Arthur blushes again, embarrassed at the verbal vomit he had just spewed out. Merlin opens his mouth, inhaling as if to answer, then stops. Shutting his mouth again, he merely smiles. He steps back into Arthur’s space, Arthur’s body instantly heating up pleasantly again as Merlin’s warmth is again pressed flush against him. His joyous eyes look over Arthur’s face for a moment, before they slip shut and he presses short, soft kisses to Arthur’s lips, his cheeks, his jawline, his forehead. Arthur does not giggle, but it’s a close thing.

   “So, does this mean that I now live with my boyfriend, instead of just my best friend?” Merlin asks against Arthur’s lower jaw. Arthur shivers at the words, his body tingling in a way he’s never felt before.

   “Absolutely.” He groans, once again curling his hands into Merlin’s hair, and using his hold to pull Merlin’s lips off his jaw and back to his own mouth where he belongs. That shiver of delight travels up and down Arthur spine again, and he mentally grins. 

‘What a happy accident this morning turned out to be.’ He thinks, right before Merlin does something with his tongue, and his brain well and truly shuts down.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from dyingbetweenthepages on Tumblr: Leon and Co convince Arthur to go ice skating with them, except Arthur can’t skate. There he notices Merlin who, despite being super lanky and fragile looking, skates like a beast.

   If you had asked Arthur at that very moment if he liked his friends, his answer would be no. He hates the whole lot of them, and desperately needs new ones. Still, there isn’t much he can do as he stands and stares forlornly ahead of him. The large outdoor rink was relatively quiet at this time of the morning. Another reason Arthur hates his friends. They had hauled him out here at practically the crack of dawn (a mild exaggeration, but he didn’t care) so they could skate before everyone else showed up. Scowling, Arthur crosses his arms and wonders if he could be stubborn enough that they would just leave him here, with his feet planted safely on ground that didn’t try to kill him with every step.

   “Come on, Arthur. It’ll be fun.” Leon says as he claps a hand roughly onto Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur grimaces in reply.

   “Besides,” Gwen’s soft and sweet voice pipes up from his other side, “you’ll have all of us there with you.”

   “Exactly.” Comes Gwaine’s voice behind him. His words don’t settle Arthur’s nerves in the slightest. In fact, they do the exact opposite. If he was going to die today, it would be because Gwaine was trying to help him skate.

   “I don’t know, guys.” Arthur admits, not proud of the way his voice shakes slightly. He had been raised to be stronger than that. He had also been raised sensibly. Meaning he had kept his feet on firm, solid ground, and had never strapped knives onto his feet to run around on large patches of frozen water. He wasn’t crazy, unlike his half-sister who had delighted in learning how to skate. She had drug Arthur along just enough times for the blond to learn that he was absolute rubbish at it, and he really didn’t want to repeat his performances from when he was younger. He can still recall the aches and pains, not only physical, but also to his ego. There had always been someone around laughing at him every time he landed heavily on his arse, and he wasn’t keen on it happening again now that he was older.

   “Trust us, Arthur. I’ll even stick with you until you feel comfortable.” Gwen replies, giving him a reassuring smile. Arthur’s smile in reply is strained, and taut, and slightly on the ill side. If he turned and ran now, would he be able to outrun everyone standing with him?

   Leon lets his hand slip from his shoulder, and Gwen gives him another smile, and then everyone is walking past him toward the office to pay. Arthur stands there and watches Leon and Gwen lead the group. They are all here. Percy, and Elyan, and Lance. Even Morgana was going to meet them in about half an hour. Surely they wouldn’t notice if Arthur was missing from their ranks.

   “Come on, Princess.” Gwaine says from beside him, where he has latched onto his elbow. Arthur glares at the offending hand holding him there. His friend must have known that Arthur was thinking of bolting. The bastard. With an insistent tug, the man leads Arthur forward. The closer they get to the edge of the rink, the more Arthur feels like he’s going to vomit. Or pass out. Maybe both.

   “Listen, Gwaine, I’m sure this is fun and all, but it’s really not my scene. Why don’t I meet you lot for drinks down at the pub after, and I’ll buy you all a round instead?” He tries desperately. Gwaine look over his shoulder at him, and for one brilliant moment, Arthur thinks he’s going to accept. But then he’s shaking his head.

   “No way, Princess. You’re getting on that ice, even if we have to drag you kicking and screaming.” The man grins savagely at him, like he throughly loves the idea of having to force Arthur to do something that he really didn’t want to do.

   “You’re terrible, you know that? All of you.” Arthur grumbles, glowering at his friend’s man-bun. He’s tempted to grab it and pull it out, making Gwaine’s carefully pulled back locks tumble down into his face, but resists the urge. He would be the mature one in this situation. No matter how much he was secretly plotting his revenge.

   Gwaine gives him an easy shrug, flashing him another toothy grin, with unfairly straight and white and perfect teeth. He gets steered all the way to the counter set up near the solid wooden boards separating the ice from the patchy, dead grass surrounding it, and he reluctantly pulls out his wallet, already mourning the sore muscles he will have tomorrow. He pays the man, who is kind enough to give him a sympathetic smile before handing him his rental skates. He didn’t own his own pair, seeing as he would never use them, but the thought of pulling on skates that other people had already worn makes him wrinkle his nose. What was this? A relative of a bowling alley? 

   He sits down heavily on the bench, moodily sitting a short distance from his so-called friends. They are all evil, he is convinced of that. He tugs his boots off, pulling the skates on quickly after to keep his toes from freezing. His heart starts to pound faster in his chest as he laces the skates up nice and snug. Once finished, he just sits there, fingers clutching the bench on either side of him so hard his knuckles turn white. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. He couldn’t do this.

   He starts reaching down to unlace the skates, he doesn’t care if he looses the money he paid for his time out on the ice. He couldn’t do this. His trembling fingers are just starting to tug on the tight double knots he’s made, when Gwen’s hands still his desperate movements. He looks up guiltily into her softly smiling face.

   “It’s all right, Arthur. You’ll be fine, I promise.” She says, standing up gracefully and holding out her hands for him to take. He doubtfully grips them tight, surprised when she does, indeed, pull him to his feet. He wobbles dangerously, not even on the ice yet, and tightens his grip on Gwen’s hands. She laughs softly, and squeezes his hands tightly in return. “Come on. You might even enjoy yourself.”

   Arthur scoffs, but allows his friend to help him slowly to the entrance leading onto the rink. He hesitates in the gap, staring at the ice like it’s going to reach up and bite him at any moment. Swallowing hard, he inches closer. He glances up, already sees all his friends out on the ice, skating expertly around and laughing. He also notices someone else, a man. He’s gliding effortlessly and smoothly around the rink, seemingly without a care in the world. He’s going forwards and backwards, and dipping into slow spins, and arcing through turns. A bubble of jealousy builds up in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he lifts a foot, and steps out onto the ice.

   The second his skate makes contact, his foot slips, and he squawks as he flails to grab the edge of the rink. He hears a friendly laugh, immediately recognizing it as Gwaine, and he grits his teeth. They weren’t laughing at him. They were his friends. They wouldn’t make fun of him. Not seriously, anyway. He keeps the words chanting in his head, going over them almost hypnotically like a mantra as he slowly straightens up. He keeps his hands on the edge, but at least he isn’t trying to hug the wood anymore. He looks a little more composed. At least, he hopes so anyway. 

   “Good.” Gwen says from behind him. “Now just move your feet. You can hold onto the boards for as long as you need to.”

   Gritting his teeth, Arthur slowly slides one foot ungracefully in front of himself, before sliding the next one. He moves painstakingly slowly around the perimeter of the rink, Gwen following him faithfully, offering words of praise and encouragement. He feels marginally better, but he still desperately wants off the ice. He wants to feel his feet on solid and unslippery ground. He also doesn’t want his friend to waste her time with him, when she could be having fun actually skating with everyone else.

   “Gwen, I appreciate the support, but you don’t have to stay here with me. Go have fun, I’ll be okay.” He tells her. She bites her lip uncertainly, glancing over at the rest of their group skating in loops around the rink, showing off their skills and laughing together. When she glances back at Arthur, he can see the longing in her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.

   “Are you sure?” She asks. She already sounds guilty, so Arthur gives her a genuine smile.

   “Yes, I’m sure, Guinevere. Stop hanging out with me, and go.” He tells her sternly. She gives him one more uncertain look. When he nods again, she hesitantly takes a few gliding steps away from him.

   “I’ll keep my eye open in case you need any help.” She tells him. He smiles and nods again, then watches as she gracefully sweeps away across the ice. Now alone, he turns back to the boards and tightens his grip. 

   With a deep breath, he takes a few more unsteady strides forward. After one more full lap around the perimeter, he lets go with one hand. As he slowly makes his way around, he merely trails his one hand along the top of the wooden boards. The longer he goes, the more comfortable he feels, and he finally dares to let go entirely. He makes it a few sliding steps forward, and smiles. Thinking he’s finally got the hang of it, he tries to speed up. His foot slips too far forward, however, and he flails desperately as he starts to lose his balance. When he can’t reach the boards in time, he lands in a heap with a yelp. With a groan, he lays back on the ice and stares forlornly up at the sky. There’s no way he’ll be able to get up on his own. Resigning himself to his fate, he closes his eyes against the bright sunlight overhead. 

   A shadow cuts across the sunlight trying to get past his closed eyelids, and he thinks that maybe one of his “friends” has finally noticed him, and come to help. When he squints an eye open, however, he sees an unfamiliar face looking down at him with a soft grin. It’s the same man he had been watching skate earlier, and his cheeks promptly flush a little pink.

   “Do you need help?” The man asks. Arthur grimaces, but snorts out a laugh.

   “Nah, mate.” He replies. “I routinely come here to just lie about. It’s good for the soul, you know?”

   The man laughs, open and full bodied and beautiful. Arthur opens both his eyes fully to properly take in this kind stranger offering him a hand. He honestly can’t tell much, what with the thickly knitted toque pulled down over his ears and the matching scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, but he does notice pale skin with hints of red dancing on his cheeks from the slight nip in the air, and dazzlingly bright blue eyes that perfectly match the equally bright smile. 

   “Come on. Up you get.” The man says, manoeuvring around to stand by his feet instead of his head and reaching both hands down. Arthur looks the man over, and even from down here he can tell that he’s lanky and, well, just doesn’t look strong enough to help Arthur to his feet. Still, it’s the only option he has, seeing as his friends are still nowhere to be seen.

   Reaching up, he latches onto the man’s hands. With surprising strength, the man tugs him up onto his feet. He doesn’t even falter as Arthur wobbles dangerously. Instead, he shifts his hands to Arthur’s waist to steady him. His movements are so natural, it’s like he does this all the time. He grins widely at Arthur as he lets go of him completely. Arthur shoves down the faint disappointment as his hands fall away.

   “I’m Merlin.” The man introduces himself. Arthur widens his eyes.

   “Seriously?” He lets slip out. The other man, Merlin, just laughs and nods vigourously.

   “Yep.” He shrugs easily, like he’s used to people doing a double take at his given name. He probably is. He looks back at Arthur, raising an expectant eyebrow. Arthur’s cheeks deepen their flushed pink colour.

   “Arthur.” He replies. Merlin breaks out into another wide grin, and Arthur nearly loses his ability to breathe at the sight. How could one human being be so unbelievably stunning?

   “I take it you don’t know how to skate?” Merlin asks, but he doesn’t sound mocking about it. It sounds like a simple, innocent question. For some reason, Arthur finds himself inclined to answer.

   Ducking his head slightly, he says, “Uhm, no. Not really. I didn’t even want to come today, but that lot of traitors over there forced me to.” He gestures to where his friends are all huddled in a group, giving him wide eyed looks. He gives them a nasty one in return, hoping it conveys his message of, ‘Thanks for nothing, you tossers.’

   Merlin shrugs with an easy grin again. “I can help you if you want. I know a little about skating.” He says the words with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Arthur cocks his head slightly as he studies his face. There doesn’t seem to be anything malicious about him, however, so Arthur decides to trust him.

   “If you want to spend your time with someone as utterly untalented as me, then sure. I will warn you that you won’t be getting much actual skating in, though.” He replies. For some reason, he’s hoping that Merlin still keeps his offer on the table. He wants to spend some time with him, get to know him. To his relief, Merlin shrugs again, that mischievous glint now spreading to his smile. The curl of his lips looks decidedly cheeky, and the sight draws Arthur into Merlin’s orbit further. 

   “That’s all right.” Merlin replies. “I only came to have fun and unwind, anyway.”

   Arthur nods. “Okay. Lead away.” He gestures forward, and Merlin chuckles softly. To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin swings around to stand beside him, looping his arm tightly though his own, and starts easily gliding forward.

   Tension fills every muscle in Arthur’s body as he’s pulled along. His movements are stiff, and he worries his bottom lip as he concentrates on his feet. While Merlin beside him moves over the ice with a grace that Arthur had not fully expected, Arthur’s movements are strained and jerky. They make it one whole lap around the perimeter before either of them speak again.

   “You need to relax, Arthur.” Merlin says softly. “The more tense you are, the more likely you are to fall.”

   Arthur clenches his teeth and tries to relax, but it seems like the harder he tries, the more tight and tense he becomes. Merlin chuckles beside him, clearly noticing the same thing. After another minute or two he seems to have enough. Expertly, he swings around in front of Arthur, hands once again on his waist to stop him, as his skates dig into the ice and halt their movement.

   “Close your eyes and just breathe.” Merlin instructs. The last thing Arthur wants to do right now is close his eyes. You never take your eye off the enemy. “Trust me.”

   Something in Merlin’s tone makes him comply. He closes his eyes, but holds his breath. That gets startled out of him as feels Merlin’s hands shift from his waist to his hands. It then hitches as he feels Merlin start to move again, pulling Arthur along by the hands. He scrambles to move his feet in an effort to follow, and Merlin chuckles softly again.

   “Stop, Arthur.” His voice sounds almost disgustingly fond, and a part of Arthur wants to peek open an eye to see what his face looks like in that moment. He keeps them tightly shut, though, just as instructed. “Just focus on breathing, and feel the ice under your feet. Let go of that idea of needing to control everything. You need to follow the movement of your feet, not force it. Just let go. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

   Arthur does as he’s told, breathing in deeply, and letting it out slowly. As he takes deep breath after deep breath, his muscles start to relax, and his legs start to move more fluidly over the ice. His hammering heart starts to slow, and he feels himself start to smile. Merlin leads him like this for a few minutes in silence, just long enough for Arthur to think that maybe this whole skating thing isn’t so bad after all.

   “Very good.” Merlin’s voice sounds much closer than Arthur had been expecting, and his eyes snap open. He’s met with Merlin’s sunny smile, and his feet slip under him. His entire body tenses, and he starts to wobble again. Merlin reacts quickly, letting go of his hands to wrap his arms around Arthur’s ribcage, under his arms. Once steadied, Arthur laughs slightly hysterically.

   “Can we go somewhere safe now?” He asks, telling himself that it doesn’t count as pleading desperately. Absolutely not.

   “Of course.” Merlin replies with an easy grin. Once again, he skates expertly to the edge, leading Arthur to the gap leading back onto safe land. Arthur lurches out, and stumbles unsteadily over to a bench. Sinking down to sit, he heaves a weary sigh. To his surprise, Merlin sits beside him. 

   With a startled look his way, Arthur says, “You don’t have to sit here with me. You came to skate, after all.”

   That mischief is back in Merlin’s eyes. “I don’t mind. I’d like to get to know you better.” Arthur blushes slightly at the words, and dearly hopes he can play it off as his cheeks just flushing from the chilly outdoor air. 

   To his surprise, Merlin is easy to talk to. They strike up a comfortable conversation, full of normal get to know you questions, and then some out of the ordinary ones from Merlin. Arthur honestly couldn’t remember ever being asked that if he had to choose between being cursed into being a rat or a pigeon, which would he choose. He also couldn’t remember ever having laughed so hard in such a short period of time. He wasn’t even noticing his friends’ incredulous looks anymore.

   They get interrupted from their conversation when a young girl timidly approaches them. She’s holding a piece of paper and a pen, both of which are shaking slightly as her hands tremble.

   “Uhm, excuse me, Mr. Emrys?” She asks in a soft voice. Merlin looks up at her with raised eyebrows and a small, friendly smile.

   “Hi, what can I do for you?” He says pleasantly. Arthur cocks his head as he watches the interaction.

   “Can—can I have your autograph? It’s just... your such a huge role model for me, and the reason that I actually started skating myself.” The girl blushes a deep red, and ducks her head shyly. 

   “Of course.” Merlin says earnestly, already reaching out to take the pen and paper from the girl. “What’s your name?”

   “Aubrey.” The girl replies in a soft and flustered voice. Merlin nods, the scribbles an illegible signature on the paper, followed by a heart and, ‘Work hard, Aubrey, and you will shine! Merlin :)’

   As he hands it back to the girl, who blushes even more but is smiling brightly, Arthur can’t help but ask, “Who exactly are you?”

   It’s Aubrey, much to Arthur’s surprise, who replies. Rather incredulously, in fact. “How can you not know him? He’s Merlin Emrys, the Olympic gold medalist figure skater!”

   Arthur’s jaw drops as Merlin smiles bashfully. The girl just shakes her head, as if Arthur was a great travesty in the world, and merrily slips away, autograph held tightly to her chest. Arthur blinks a few times as he allows the new information about the man sitting next to him really sink in. He supposes that it did explain a lot of things. How well he managed with Arthur, for one. The wide eyed looks from his friends, for another.

   “Were you ever going to tell me you were an Olympian, or were you just going to wait until I figured it out?” He asks. To his surprise, Merlin blushes.

   “I mean, I knew you were going to find out eventually, but I just... I thought you were cute and didn’t want to intimidate you.” He replies bashfully. His admission makes Arthur bark out a surprised laugh. An eye crinkling, nose wrinkling, full body laugh. 

   “You are something else, Merlin Emrys.” He says fondly. Merlin looks up at him through his lashes and smiles. “But you do realize that I’m still going to be intimidated now, even if I do still want to ask you out on a date. It’s not every day you get to mingle with a celebrity.”

   Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the delighted red flush colouring Merlin’s cheeks. “If you’re actually asking me out on a date right now, my answer is yes.”

   Studying Merlin intently, Arthur makes a snap decision, leaning closer to kiss the other man softly on the lips. He hears whoops and whistles from the rink, no doubt from his friends, but he ignores them. He’s much more interested in the way that Merlin is readily kissing him back.

   As he pulls away slightly, Arthur says, “What do you think of ditching those idiots I call friends that are out on the ice, and having that date right now?”

   Merlin’s answering grin practically lights up Arthur’s entire world. He decides right then and there, no matter how terrifying the thought or feeling is, that he wants that smile in his life for the rest of it. Merlin nods enthusiastically, and Arthur huffs out an already fond laugh. The man may be an Olympic gold medalist figure skater, but he was just as sweet, and dorky, and real as anyone else. With a flutter in his chest, Arthur finds himself hoping that this first date turns out to be the last first date he ever goes on.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from illiterateowl on AO3: A visiting noble makes some moves on Merlin and he’s so terrified of him that Arthur gets all protective while simultaneously being livid with jealousy. (So I had intended for this to just be lighthearted and fun, but then it turned into this monstrosity instead, and I’m very sorry. I hope you enjoy it anyway!!)

   Merlin yawns widely from his spot behind the King. The early morning chill to the air is doing little to wake him up, much as he has hoped it would. A delegation of lords and other minor nobles from the far reaches of Camelot’s borders was arriving today, and early. For all of Arthur’s quiet grace and easy smiles now, he was practically a bear a few short hours ago. Merlin had actually feared for his life. Now, the prat has the audacity to shoot him a look over his shoulder as he hears Merlin yawn again. Merlin glares back, not cowed by empty threats of time spent in the stocks or the cells. Arthur frowns, and he almost looks ready to turn around and cuff Merlin around the head, when a trumpet sounds just outside the square. They have arrived. Merlin grins smugly as Arthur turns back to face forward. He yelps softly under his breath as Arthur reaches a foot back to stomp on his.

   “Prat!” He whisper-yells. He distinctly hears Arthur snort in amusement in front of him, and he can’t help but grin. He always enjoyed making the King laugh. He was far too serious these days.

   A cacophony of clattering hooves, and the patter of bootsteps makes Merlin look back up where he’s supposed to, instead of the back of Arthur’s golden head. Ten horses are striding in, eight with riders and two carrying supplies. Around the riders are an array of men and women in much simpler clothing, all carrying various bundles and bags. It strikes Merlin, not for the first time, that not every noble lets their servants ride horses as well, as Arthur allows Merlin. His heart goes out to the poor souls forced to travel such a long way on foot.

   “Lord Carac and Lady Isabelle.” Arthur says with his most pleasant, attending-to-court-affairs tone. The man and woman in question elegantly sweep off their horses and greet the approaching King.

   “Your Majesty.” Lord Carac says, bowing deeply. Merlin wrinkles his nose at the sight. The prat’s head was going to grow three sizes, at least, by the time these men and women were gone. “You remember my son, Tybalt?” 

   A younger man, almost a carbon copy of his father, steps forward. He’s about Arthur’s age, maybe a year or two his junior. While Carac has that dignified look about his features, Tybalt’s are softer. He’s quite striking looking, actually, if one liked silky brown hair and big liquid brown eyes. 

   “Of course.” Arthur replies with a smile. “We certainly spent enough time on the training field, trying to prove ourselves, as youngsters.”

   Tybalt grins, but something about it makes an unpleasant shiver run down Merlin’s spine. “I hear now that your the best swordsmen in all of Albion, Your Highness.” 

   Merlin doesn’t have to be looking at his King to know that the man is preening under the praise and attention. “Perhaps you would care to join me on the field while you’re here. Test your steel.”

   Merlin tunes out of the conversation, already bored with the prospect of having to run around after Arthur while he tried to impress every living soul currently residing in the Royal Household. He’s vaguely aware of Arthur moving on to greet his other guests, and it’s then that he feels eyes on him. Looking up, he finds Tybalt staring right at him. Merlin frowns slightly, unsure why he, a simple servant, would capture the attention of a Lord’s son. Still, he has, and the attention doesn’t quite feel like the kind he wants. Not wanting to cause a scene and anger his King, he drops his eyes to the stones by his feet. It takes a while, but eventually he feels the searing stare shift away. He only realizes that he had been holding his breath, until he feels like his lungs aren’t being constricted anymore. 

   When he glances up, the family has assembled with the other Lords and Ladies, and Arthur is discreetly giving him a weird look. Merlin almost never stood so deferentially. Merlin lets his eyes meet the King’s very briefly, before looking away again. He has little doubt in his mind that Arthur will be questioning him about it later, in the privacy of his chambers, but Merlin doesn’t really know what to tell him. That the son of a visiting noble was giving him the creeps? Arthur may know about his magic now, and his funny feelings along with it, but this hadn’t been a feeling involving his magic. He has no idea how to explain it.

   Arthur says something that Merlin doesn’t catch, and then everyone is heading toward the stone steps. As the King passes, he grips Merlin’s elbow and tugs him along. As inconspicuously as possible, he leans closer, so as to whisper in his ear.

   “You have that look on your face. What is it?” Arthur’s breath gently stirs the hairs on Merlin’s head slightly, and he tries on to shiver.

   “I don’t have a look.” He says back, equally as quietly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

   The King huffs slightly. “I know you’re lying, and we will be discussing it later.”

   With that, Arthur lets go of his arm, and leads the group of nobles regally into the citadel itself. Merlin drops back to let the nobles pass, waiting for the other servants to enter before he does. He feels a light touch to his arm as someone passes, and his eyes snap up. Tybalt is smiling back at him wolfishly, and Merlin feels decidedly unsettled. He glances around, but no one else seems to have noticed, and when he looks back, the man is gone. Taking a deep, slightly shaky breath, Merlin pushes his thoughts aside and strides into the citadel with the other servants.

~~~

   Arthur had, had this bitter taste in his mouth ever since catching Tybalt eyeing up his servant like Merlin was a particularly savoury cut of meat. It had only gotten worse when he had seen Merlin’s reaction to the attention. Never before had Arthur seen Merlin slip into the typical role and mannerisms of a servant so thoroughly. It threw him off, and he didn’t like it. Even now, Merlin was back with the other servants, not as his side like he usually was, and he felt oddly bereft and cold without his friend’s warmth and steady presence beside him.

   After quick introductions, their guests for the week are shown to their chambers. The guest chambers were all in one wing of the castle. Something in Arthur’s chest purrs at the thought that they were all on the opposite side of the grand stone structure from his chambers, and Merlin’s. He would still have Merlin all to himself in the evenings. As Lords and Ladies make their way out of the Great Hall, Camelot servants keeping their gazes respectfully downturned as they lead them through various halls, Arthur looks around for Merlin. He frowns when he can’t spot him.

   Snagging Lancelot as he passes by, he asks, “Have you seen Merlin?”

   He gets an almost knowing look in return, and he bristles slightly. “I believe I saw young Tybalt snag him to show him to his chambers.”

   Arthur’s feels his hackles lift at the news. Merlin was his servant. His personal servant. He was not on loan to visiting nobles of any kind, let alone ones who enjoying publicly eyeing him up as if he were a tasty treat. Lancelot’s answering chuckle pulls Arthur from his downward spiralling thought. He glances up sharply.

   “You have nothing to worry about, Sire. Merlin will be back at your beck and call soon enough.” He pats the King on the shoulder in a friendly gesture, then moves to leave. He was no doubt going to see Gwen. Their budding romance left a tension in Arthur that he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t... wasn’t jealousy. Not really. But it might’ve been close to it.

   He moodily makes his way through the stone halls alone, barely even noticing passing guards and servants. His chambers doors loom ahead of him before he even fully realizes that he’s made it this far. A bubble of hope rises in his chest as he approaches. Maybe Merlin was already finished showing Tybalt to his chambers, and was waiting for His Majesty to return to his chambers. 

   With that thought in mind, he strides toward the closed wooden doors, steps almost light. He immediately scowls when he pushes the doors open and finds the room solemnly Merlin-less. Nothing has been moved since he left early this morning. His sheets are still a tangled mess from the previous night, and the breakfast dishes are still laid out on the table. With a roll of his eyes, and a weary huff, he steps inside. He would have to have words with Merlin about skiving off his duties to fraternize with guests. And noble ones at that.

~~~

   “So, you’re the King’s manservant?” Tybalt asks as Merlin leads him through the castle halls. Merlin hums in reply, knowing better than to openly talk to visiting nobles. Not everyone of noble birth liked actually having their servants (or anyone else’s servants) actually verbally answer questions. For a moment there’s blessed silence between them. Merlin still feels tense, being essentially alone with the man. He could still feel the appraising gaze sweeping over him from top to bottom, bottom to top. It made his skin itch, and crawl, and feel slimy.

   “What’s he like?” Tybalt questions further. Merlin sighs inwardly. This wasn’t a yes or no question, meaning he would actually have to talk to the man. For some reason, he felt reluctant to do so.

   “He’s not so bad.” Merlin replies quietly. 

   Tybalt cocks his head in interest. “I’ve heard that most Royals can be hard to deal with. Don’t treat their serving staff well. My family has always been kind to our servants.”

   “Like I said, he’s not so bad.” Merlin replies, a slight edge to his voice now. Tybalt may have known Arthur when he was younger, but he didn’t know him now. While Arthur had been pompous and spoiled and arrogant in his youth, he had changed. He had humility now. Respect as well. He valued everyone’s opinion, regardless of station. He may not always take advice to heart, but he at least would listen, no matter how reluctant he may seem to do so.

   Tybalt laughs heartily. “He must have changed then.” He says with amusement. “From what I remember of the King when he was a mere Prince, he sorely needed an attitude adjustment.”

   Gritting his teeth, Merlin mumbles, “Well, maybe he got one.”

   A hand on his forearm pulls him to a stop. He wants to recoil at the touch, but forces himself to stay where he is. “I mean no disrespect to our King. It is admirable that he has changed his attitude so much.”

   He seems genuine and sincere enough that Merlin relaxes slightly. He gives the man a wan smile, and turns to continue leading him to his chambers. He wanted away from this man’s company. He couldn’t put his finger on why, he just felt as if he were in danger. Tybalt follows slightly behind Merlin as he walks, setting Merlin’s frayed nerves further on edge. He almost audibly breathes out a sigh of relief when he spots the guest chamber doors which Tybalt will be staying. 

   “Here you are, my Lord.” Merlin says, bowing his head as much as he dares. He doesn’t like exposing himself like this to the man. A hand on his shoulder makes him almost jump.

   “Thank you, Merlin.” Tybalt says, a subtle glint in his eyes. Merlin almost frowns, but then remembers what Arthur had told him yesterday about respect and manners. Not everyone will treat Merlin’s cavalier attitude toward station as leniently as Arthur did. The memory almost makes Merlin roll his eyes.

   He turns to leave, but the fingers on his shoulder tighten, holding him in place. He turns back with a question in his eyes. His heart is racing in his chest. What did this man want with him? He had shown him to his room, and he now had a master to return to. He never should’ve left Arthur’s side in the first place. Showing the guests to their rooms was the job of the other serving staff, not Merlin.

   “Yes, my Lord?” Merlin asks, trying to keep his voice even.

   Tybalt grins wolfishly again. “I hope we will be seeing much more of each other over the next few days.”

   Merlin swallows thickly, and manages to paste an insincere and shaky smile on his face. He bows his head in reply, not wanting to speak in case it got him into trouble. The man grins wider, squeezes his shoulder tightly, nearly making Merlin gasp out loud, then lets go and sweeps into his chambers. Merlin takes a moment to compose himself before spinning on his heel, and all but running through the now empty halls to the King’s chambers.

   As he bursts unceremoniously through Arthur’s chamber doors, he hears the man in question drawl, “Ah, Merlin. Finished having fun, and decided to return to work, have you?”

   Confusion wrinkles Merlin’s nose. “What are you talking about?”

   Arthur sniffs derisively, but doesn’t reply. He seems to drop the subject, sweeping it away into the corner of his mind where he intends to never touch it again. Merlin is all too familiar with this particular action to miss the expression on the King’s face. He wants to push it, to find out why exactly Arthur is lashing out this time, but the look in the blond’s eyes makes him stop. He looks oddly... not quite vulnerable, but something very close to. It’s a look Merlin has rarely seen in Arthur’s eyes, and he knows to tread carefully when it appears.

   “I was showing one of the guests to their chambers, Sire. They did not realize that I had other duties to attend to. I finished as quickly as possible so I could return here.” Merlin replies placatingly. Arthur’s face still looks pinched, and Merlin wants to sigh in frustration. He’d just had to deal with Tybalt, and whatever the man wanted from him, and now he had to deal with one of Arthur’s infamous moods? What had he done lately to deserve this as a punishment?

   Without a word, he steps farther into the room, already zoning in on the bed that required tidying. He’s acutely aware of Arthur’s moody eyes on his back as he works, but whenever he tries to sneak glances in his direction, the man is resolutely looking in the other direction. 

   Not wanting to play into whatever game the King is playing, Merlin steadfastly begins to ignore him completely. He moves about the room, picking up clothes to be laundered, and putting those away which did not require cleaning. Once he deems the room tidy enough, he balances the laundry basket on his hip while grabbing for the half full breakfast tray on the table. He again feels the King’s eyes on him, and when he glances in Arthur’s direction, he manages to catch his blue gaze. Quirking an eyebrow, he gives the blond a chance to speak. He remembered his words from earlier, how he wanted to talk to Merlin about the supposed look that had been on his face earlier, but Arthur’s expression just shutters closed, and he looks away with a clenched jaw. Huffing an irritated sigh, Merlin picks up the tray and walks to the door.

   With a little help from his magic, he opens the door and then closes it again behind him. Let Arthur be a moody prat. Merlin has other things to do. There was to be a banquet that evening to properly welcome Camelot’s guests, and everyone was needed to prepare for it. Merlin included. Being the King’s personal servant didn’t get him out of such tasks. For the first time, Merlin actually feels relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with His Royal Highness until later when he was needed to get Arthur ready for the feast. He dealt with enough of Arthur’s moods, he didn’t want to deal with this one. Not when he still felt dirty from his interaction with Tybalt. He didn’t know why, but he felt that the other man’s intentions towards him were decidedly less than pure. It sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine.

~~~

   The feast was in full swing, the guests all eating merrily, and drinking Camelot’s finest wine. Arthur should feel relaxed and content with how well his people had come together to welcome their guests. However, as he watches Tybalt whisper something to Merlin as his servant ducks in close to refill his goblet with wine, all Arthur feels is bitter. He’s used to being the only one who murmurs into Merlin’s ear when the man is close, fingers itching to brush over his arms, his waist, his hands. Watching Tybalt so openly talking to Merlin, stray touches actually lingering on Merlin’s lower back, makes Arthur’s stomach twist itself into tight knots.

   Before he can be caught glaring, Arthur drops his angry gaze to his plate. The food was good, great even, but it all tasted like ash in his mouth. Still, he forces himself to keep eating, no matter how hollow his actions were. He didn’t want to raise unwanted questions about his well being. He was fine, he was just... used to having Merlin all to himself. That was all.

   “Everything okay?” A soft voice asks in his ear. He startles slightly, not having heard Merlin approach. He watches idly as Merlin reaches for his half full goblet, filling it to the brim with more wine. “You’ve barely touched your food, and you haven’t been finished one cup of wine yet.”

   Sometimes Arthur forgot how observant Merlin was. How in tune he could be with Arthur’s normal habits and behaviour. He couldn’t very well explain to Merlin why he felt off. How did he tell Merlin that he felt blindsided by the man’s apparent interest in another man? There was no way he could tell Merlin what he was feeling when he didn’t even know well enough himself.

   “I’m fine, Merlin. Don’t you have other things to be doing?” He replies, a little more harshly than he had intended. He can feel Merlin’s eyes on him, but refuses to meet his gaze. He knows what he’ll see there. Questions, and frustration, and maybe even a little hurt. He didn’t often snap at Merlin so obviously anymore. His complaints, and insults, and dismissals were often wrapped up with something akin to fondness now. This time, however, it was decidedly not.

   He lets out his breath as Merlin walks away. He lets his eyes trail after his movement, noticing the tense set to his shoulders, and the short, choppy quality to his steps. He was being an arse, and he knew that. He just, for some reason, couldn’t stop. It only gets worse when Tybalt flags Merlin down again. Arthur watches as the man briefly glances in his direction before leaning closer to Merlin and whispering something. Merlin’s brows dip slightly, his lower lip coming between his teeth. Arthur rips his gaze away, something unpleasant burning in his gut. 

   The night drags on for Arthur. He sits regally, watching as his guests run the wine dry. The food is removed from the tables, and fanciful and decadent desserts laid out in their stead. Even those get picked almost clean before people start to retire for the night. Arthur sits with clenched teeth and an aching head as he bids his guests goodnight one by one. Tybalt is still seated, heavy gaze locked onto Merlin. Merlin fidgets under the scrutiny, and Arthur swallows thickly around the bitter lump in his throat. He had no idea that Merlin was craving such attention.

   Rising to his feet, he calls out, “Merlin!”

   His servant turns, a flicker of something flashing momentarily across his face. “Yes, Sire?”

   “I believe it is time to call it a night.” He tells him through gritted teeth. Merlin nods, quickly setting the few plates he had picked up back down onto the table. The King required his services, and therefore the cleaning could be left for the other serving staff. 

   Without waiting for a reply, Arthur turns and sweeps from the room. Something is bubbling in his stomach, and he’s slowly starting to admit to himself that it’s jealousy. He doesn’t like seeing other people pay such close attention to his servant. Granted, Merlin deserved it. He was loyal, intelligent, even funny at times. There had been many a council meeting that Arthur had only survived thanks to Merlin pulling ridiculous faces behind the council men’s backs. He was also, admittedly, nice to look at. He had grown since his arrival in Camelot all those years ago. Gone was the scrawny boy who swung an easily dodged fist at him. Now, Merlin was all lean muscle and easy confidence. Except, apparently, where Tybalt was concerned. Merlin had seemed almost submissive around the other man.

   Arthur hears Merlin’s hurried steps behind him as he rushes to catch up, but he doesn’t slow his steps. Just because he was admitting to himself about feeling jealous, did not mean that his foul and testy mood was lessening at all. If anything, it just made him bristle even more. He didn’t like feeling jealous. He’d never had much experience with the emotion, and it was so hot and heavy in his gut at the moment, that he felt thrown off balance. Almost vulnerable. He despised appearing weak in front of others.

   He waltzes into his chambers, letting the doors bang open. He certainly doesn’t miss the huffed sigh behind him, but he chooses to ignore it. Instead, he fiddles with the clasp of the velvety cloak around his shoulders, undoing it, and tossing the red material to rest over the back of chair. His sword belt follows soon after, the ceremonial sword still sheathed into in clattering against the table top.

   “Stop.” Merlin bursts out, appearing in front of him and stilling his fingers as he reaches to pull his chainmail off. “I don’t know what crawled up your arse and died, but just let me do my job before you wreak something.”

   Arthur has a scathing reply ready on the top of his tongue, but it never makes it any further than that as Merlin grips the maille and pulls it off over his head. He takes extra care to make sure it doesn’t catch any of Arthur’s hair on the way off, and Arthur is grudgingly grateful for it. His previous servants, all those years ago, had been less careful, and Arthur had lost many a chunk of hair throughout his formative years.

   As Merlin turns to deposit his chainmail safely on the table, Arthur says quietly, “Thank you, Merlin.”

   Merlin gives him a slightly startled look. “You’re welcome?”

   The King nearly snaps again at how hesitant his servant sounds, but bites his tongue. Instead, he stays still as Merlin finishes readying him for bed. As he turns to crawl beneath the soft sheets and warm blankets, he decides that Merlin should have some time to himself. If Tybalt had caught Merlin’s eye in return, then he would certainly enjoy the opportunity to... How did he put it politely? Let off some steam?

   “Merlin.” He says, stopping the man in his tracks as he made his way for the door.

   “Yes, Sire? Was there something else you needed?” He asks.

   Arthur shakes his head, swallowing the bile trying to creep up his throat. “No. I just wanted to let you know that you can be relieved of your duties for the day tomorrow. You can do as you wish, with whomever you desire to do it with.”

  He nods to himself, feeling that he had handled that as diplomatically as his station requires. He was polite and vague, but still clearly showing Merlin that he had no ill will towards the man enjoying himself. The twist in his chest says otherwise, though. He doesn’t mind Merlin enjoying himself, he just wanted to be the one that Merlin wanted to join him. He pushes the thoughts and bitter feelings aside. This wasn’t about him. It was about Merlin. He deserved a break. Their guests would only be around for a few days, and then they’d be gone, and everything would be back to normal.

   To his surprise, Merlin looks vaguely ill. “What if I don’t want the day off? What if I just want to continue on like nothing unusual is happening?”

   Arthur quirks an eyebrow. “Nothing unusual? Has something happened that you wish to tell me about?” He asks, remembering Merlin’s look from before. Merlin ducks his head and blushes slightly, just making the pit in his stomach grow in size. Ah, there it was. Arthur grits his teeth and looks away before he says something scathing that he’ll regret later.

   “No, Sire.” Merlin all but mumbles. Something feels off about Merlin, but Arthur honestly can’t think of any reason why that should be the case.

   “Very well.” He replies. “Take the day tomorrow. I’m sure George won’t mind standing in to fill your duties for a day.”

   Merlin grimaces, still looking slightly sick, but nods. He turns to leave without another word, his shoulders tense again. Arthur watches him go, and stay where he is, even after the doors have closed behind the other man. Something tickled at the back of Arthur’s mind. There was something going on that Merlin wasn’t telling him, but why? He had thought that once Merlin came clean about his magic, that there would be no more secrets between them. Not that he was exactly honouring that, but Merlin didn’t know that. The less he knew about Arthur’s blooming affections for him, the better.

   With a weary sigh, Arthur turns and all but falls into bed. He could contemplate Merlin’s odd behaviour tomorrow. For now, he was tired, and just desperately wanted to sleep.

   He stays staring blankly up at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning, sleep teasing at his mind, but remaining frustratingly elusive. His eyes only slip closed when he can no longer physically keep them open. His dreams that night are plagued by pale skin and blue eyes being pulled away by faceless forms and bodiless hands

~~~

   Despite being given the day off, Merlin stills finds himself hovering at the edge of the training grounds as Arthur schools his knights. A few of the more daring of the visiting nobles have joined them, decked out in their own armour that had been brought just for this purpose. Among the group of nobles is Lord Carac’s son. Tybalt looks the part in his gleaming armour and shining chainmail. With his helmet off, and his hair curling in loose, short waves around his ears, he looks every bit the nobleman’s son. He still sets Merlin’s nerves on edge, makes his stomach clench unpleasantly.

   The man looks up, as if feeling Merlin’s gaze on him, and smiles. It’s not an unpleasant smile, but is is filled with future intent, and it makes goosebumps erupt across Merlin’s skin. There was just something about that heavy gaze that made Merlin’s toes curl in his boots. Even after a long, sleepless night of pondering it, he still couldn’t place why he didn’t like the attention. It’s not like people haven’t looked at him that way in the past. Hell, Gwaine had given him that look on many an occasion. But while Gwaine’s looks had been respectful (as respectful as a lustful stare can be), Tybalt’s was almost predatory. Like he knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it, regardless of what Merlin may want or not. 

   Merlin briefly catches Arthur looking in his direction, and tries to force himself to relax. Arthur wouldn’t let anything unsavoury happen to him. The King was his friend, no matter what the man liked to say at the height of his temper, and Merlin trusted him. As long as Arthur was around, Tybalt wouldn’t be able to hurt him. Or so he hoped.

   “Tybalt!” Arthur calls out, loud and clear. His voice carries, ringing through the late morning air. The nobleman forces his heated gaze away from Merlin, focusing on the King.

   “Yes, Your Majesty?” He asks politely.

   Arthur beckons him forward with a lazy hand. “Come. Put your skills to test. Unless you fear you cannot defeat me.” 

   Merlin narrows his eyes suspiciously as he studies Arthur. He knew that Arthur was aware of his skill with a sword. With any weapon, really. He knew that Arthur could get a little full of himself on occasion. However, it had been a long time since Merlin had heard Arthur speak so arrogantly. His chest was puffed out obnoxiously, and he even had an air of pompous pride lingering in the air around him. The entire sight is so foreign to Merlin now, that he isn’t really sure what to think. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Arthur was jealous. But of who, and why, Merlin didn’t have any idea.

   Tybalt meets Arthur’s challenge head on, striding forward confidently as he lazily twirls his sword in his right hand. Arthur visibly clenches his jaw at the display, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword, practically glaring daggers at the other man. Even from his distance, Merlin could tell from the hard set of Arthur’s armour clad shoulders that he wasn’t going to be taking it easy on the visiting nobleman. He almost feels bad for the other man. Almost.

   The fight begins swiftly, and ends just as quickly. Arthur had an uncanny ability to find any opponent’s weakness, and immediately take advantage of it. He has the sword flipping from Tybalt’s grip, and the man’s legs flipping out from under him, embarrassingly quickly. He stands above the man, sword tip at his throat, looking down at him without even breaking a sweat. His breathing is heavy, but more from pent up energy and emotion than any real effort involved in the fight. Tybalt stares up at him, a hint of a frown on his features that he doesn’t dare let show through. To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur glances up at him, making direct eye contact, before turning and stalking away moodily. Almost like he was checking to make sure that Merlin had seen his victory over the other man competing for his attention.

   “Leon, you’ll finish training for the morning!” Arthur barks over his shoulder. Leon nods, already stepping forward to take charge. Merlin stares after the retreating King with puzzlement. What was going on with him?

   A voice beside him makes him jump slightly. “I hope that little display didn’t deter you at all. I assure you that I am a much better warrior than that. My prowess is actually quite impressive.”

   “Uhm, don’t worry about it.” Merlin replies tensely. “Arthur is the best swordsmen in all the five kingdoms. No one can beat him.”

   Tybalt grins at Merlin’s reply, nearly making Merlin shrink away in return. “I heard you have the day off from your duties with the King. Perhaps you would be so kind as to show me around your beautiful home.”

   Desperately, Merlin looks around them to find some way out of Tybalt’s suggestion. He tries to meet someone’s eyes, find someone else to give Tybalt a tour of the castle and grounds instead. There’s no one around, however, and he’s forced to turn to Tybalt with a reluctant and taut smile.

   “Of course. I’d love to.” He hopes his reluctance doesn’t bleed through into his tone too much. The last thing he wants is a formal complaint about him given to the King. Arthur was testy enough right now, for whatever reason, and Merlin didn’t want to give him more reasons to yell at him.

   “Perfect!” Tybalt grins enthusiastically. “Let me change out of my armour. I’ll meet you outside my chambers in half an hour.”

   The man strides away, but not before letting a hand brush over his waist, lingering in a way that makes Merlin’s skin crawl. He forces himself not to shy away from the unwanted touch. However, his stomach rolls queasily as the man shoots him a flirty wink over his shoulder. Looking around, Merlin sees that no one had been witness to their interaction, and he honestly isn’t sure if he’s thankful or regretful for that.

   With a growing pit in his chest, he makes his way back toward the citadel. Maybe he should tell someone where he was going, and who he was going to be with. Gwen, perhaps. Maybe even Arthur himself. He decides against it, however, not wanting to create issues amongst the citizens of Camelot. If the staff and residents of the Royal Household started having animosity towards the visitors from near the borders, things for Arthur could become quite difficult, and Merlin doesn’t want to add anything else to Arthur’s plate. It was already full enough.

~~~

   By the time Arthur gets to his chambers, his foul mood hasn’t worn off as he had hoped it would. Beating Tybalt down into a semblance of submission had been satisfying for a brief moment, but it had waned pretty quickly when Arthur remembered that Merlin would not be heading to his chambers along with him. For all Arthur knew, he could he going to Tybalt’s instead to help the man lick his figurative wounds. Maybe Arthur shouldn’t have given Merlin the day off. He should have kept him right beside him, where the man belonged. Trying to be selfless was exhausting, and infuriating, and Arthur honestly hated it.

   Entering his chambers, Arthur tosses his sword down, then starts trying to wrangle his own armour off. After a moment of struggling, there’s a knock at the door.

   “Come in!” Arthur calls through gritted teeth. He looks up briefly as the hinges creak, a small part of him hoping it’s Merlin come to see if he’s okay, and he deflates when it’s only George. The man doesn’t say anything, just steps closer and begins expertly undoing buckles and straps, removing Arthur’s armour piece by piece until it’s only his chainmail being pulled off over his head. Arthur just barely manages to hold in the grunt at his hair catching slightly.

   “Do you require anything else, Sire?” George asks, bowing low. Arthur waves him off dismissively.

   “No, that’ll be all.” He replies curtly. George bows again, then slips out the door as silently as he had entered. Arthur grits his teeth at the sudden quiet, desperately wanting Merlin’s incessant and inane chatter to fill the space. Deciding that he as other nobles to entertain, and other duties to perform, he strips out of his sweaty clothes, tossing them roughly in the direction of the laundry basket that Merlin always begs him to just use for once. 

   Crossing to his wardrobe, he opens the doors and ponders his choices inside. There’s an array of colours and soft fabrics, and for a moment, Arthur feels overwhelmed. He could pick his own clothes, and dress himself. Of course he could, he wasn’t a child. However, he did often rely on Merlin’s observant eye to pick out the best clothes for specific situations. For instance, right now, he wanted to look regal and respectful, without looking too uptight and unapproachable. Heaving a sigh, he reaches in and grabs the red tunic that Merlin seemed to favour him wearing, and a pair of plain dark brown trousers. They would have to do.

   After dressing, Arthur wraps his sword belt around his waist, sheathing one of his plainer swords inside. He shrugs his shorter brown leather jacket on over top, and looks down at himself. Approachable, but still noble. With a nod at his achievement, he opens the doors and heads for the back garden where he knows the Ladies will be congregated. He had just as much duty to entertain them as he did the Lords.

   As he walks through the halls, two Camelot serving girls pass by him, going the other direction. As they pass by, he hears one giggle slightly, the other whispering quite loudly about Tybalt. He was handsome, according to them, but it was such a shame that his eyes had been caught by another. Wasn’t is unfair how it was always Merlin who caught the attention of the pretty ones?

   Arthur grits his teeth, the jealousy already swirling around in his stomach, bubbling up to higher extremes. He forces himself to take deep breathes, trying, and failing, to calm the anger coursing through his veins. He was practically vibrating with the need to go find Merlin, and make sure that both he and Tybalt knew he was Arthur’s. He belonged to the King, and no one else. The thought was ridiculous, even to Arthur’s seething mind. Merlin was not an object that could be owned by anybody. He was a person, with his own free will to do whatever he wanted with whomever he desired to do it with. That didn’t stop Arthur from burning with unpleasant heat every time he thought of Merlin and Tybalt together.

   Knowing that he undoubtedly looked ferocious, and that it would unsettle the delicate sensibilities of the Ladies, he pushes those unsavoury thoughts aside. He could ruminate on Merlin’s off duty activities later. For now, he had to be the King.

~~~

   Tybalt currently has a hand wrapped tightly around Merlin’s forearm as Merlin leads him through the castle. He’s sure that to some, it merely looks friendly, albeit a little suggestive and flirty. To Merlin, it feels controlling. Like Tybalt is subtly steering him where he wants to go, and not actually just following wherever Merlin takes him. He tries his best to keep Tybalt to the more populated areas of the citadel, but gets steered away when the man asks what was down a particular hallway.

   The hallway in question leads to pretty much nowhere. It’s a more underused portion of the castle, where few people go. Gwen had discovered that it was actually a shortcut between certain parts of the palace, making for easier passage from one side of the palace to the other, but no one else really knew about it. That thought makes Merlin nervous. He knows that if Tybalt tries anything, he’ll be relatively powerless to stop him. Yes, he has his magic, but he didn’t like using it against people. It wasn’t there for that purpose. Not anymore. Still, the knowledge that Tybalt could easily overpower him with muscle alone makes him wary.

  “So, you’re saying no one ever comes through here?” The man in question asks, eyes looking over the eye appealing tapestries, and hollow suits of armour on display. Merlin had, had a similar reaction the first time Gwen had brought him through here, but he’s guessing that his reaction was much purer and innocent than Tybalt’s currently was.

   “Yeah. It’s a shame really. I always thought it was rather lovely down here.” Merlin replies, a faux cheerful quality to his tone. He doesn’t want to give away his nervousness. That would only end badly for him.

   “Hmm. I agree, to some extent.” Tybalt replies, and there’s something in his voice that makes Merlin’s heart rate explode. He looks around, praying to find some way out of this situation, but none comes. “Say, Merlin, I know you saw me looking at you, and I know that you know that I saw you looking back.”

   Merlin sucks in a breath. “Uhm, what? I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen anything.”

   “Come now, you don’t need to be shy. What are you afraid of? That the King won’t approve? He doesn’t have to know.” The man purrs as he steps closer. Under other conditions, with someone else, Merlin would be quite receptive to these advances. Now, though, something was telling him no. 

   “I honestly don’t know what you mean.” Merlin replies, voice getting tense and uncertain. Tybalt cocks his head to the side, studying him intently. 

   The pair are so focused on each other, that neither one notices Gwen turn the far corner, only to stop, stare ahead in shock, and then turn and silently bolt away.

~~~

   Arthur was in the middle of conversing with Lady Helena, when movement from the corner of his eye makes him look up. Gwen is standing at the corner on the garden, staring intently at him. When she notices that she has his attention, she discreetly beckons him over. Arthur frowns, unsure as to what could he so important that she would need his assistance at that very moment, but politely excuses himself anyway. A flutter of girlish giggles follows him as he leaves, and he’s convinced they are all staring at his arse as he walks away.

   “What is it, Guinevere?” He asks as he gets closer. She looks almost panicked, and it instantly puts him on edge, hand subconsciously going for the sword sheathed at his waist.

   “It’s Merlin, Sire. I think he’s in trouble.” She says earnestly. The words make a wave of cold dread wash over the King, and he immediately gestures her to lead him to wherever Merlin is. She nods, and turns, practically running back toward the castle doors. Arthur follows behind her, too many emotions battling out for dominance in his chest to even begin to figure out what they all were.

   Once inside, she leads him down familiar halls, until she turns to head down ones much less travelled. Arthur dutifully follows every step of the way. As they make their way farther in, he catches voices in the near distance. The words aren’t discernible, but one of the voices is unmistakably Merlin’s, and Arthur speeds up his steps. Gwen slows to a stop at the corner leading around into another hall, and pauses, face stressed. Arthur rounds the corner without a word, eyes landing on the hall’s other occupants. The sight makes his anger and jealousy burn hotter.

   Merlin is pressed against the wall, leaning back as far as he can to avoid Tybalt pressing closer. The attempt is futile, and even from his distance, Arthur can see the fear slipping into Merlin eyes. Without stopping to think, Arthur barrels forward, right hand unsheathing his sword as his left reaches for the collar of Tybalt’s fancy jacket.

   “Hey!” The man squawks as Arthur tugs back harshly. He flails his arms as he gets roughly pulled away from Merlin, who is still pressed into the wall. In one smooth motion, Arthur inserts himself between his guest and his servant, sword held aloft.

   “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He demands, glaring in Tybalt’s direction. The man looks panicked for a moment before smoothing his features out into a smile.

   “I was merely getting to know Merlin here. As he had the day off, graciously given him by you, I figured you wouldn’t mind sharing.” Tybalt replies innocently. There’s something lurking in his tone that Arthur doesn’t like.

   Taking a single threatening step toward him, Arthur cooly replies, “It didn’t look like Merlin is enjoying himself. Perhaps it’d be better for you to leave him alone.”

   Tybalt has the nerve to scowl slightly. “Come now, Your Majesty, don’t be so greedy. I’m sure there’s plenty of Merlin to go around.”

   The sharp inhale behind him makes Arthur pull his lip back in a snarl. “Merlin is not a commodity to be passed from person to person on a whim. He is mine, and you will do well to remember that. Now go, before I change my mind and stop being so merciful.”

   Something flickers across Tybalt’s face, and he pales slightly. He nods once, and scrambles backwards a few steps. “Of course, Your Majesty. I apologize for my behaviour. I didn’t fully realize.”

   Arthur fumes as he watches the man scurry away, his temper only cooling slightly when he feels a hesitant hand land on his elbow. Turning around, he finds Merlin standing closer to him, no longer leaning against the wall, and looking at him with something almost like awe or wonder. Arthur inhales deeply, trying to calm the buzzing in his veins.

   “I’m sorry for that, Merlin. Are you all right?” He asks. Merlin nods shakily.

   “Yeah. I, uh.” He stops to swallow. “Did you mean it? What you said about me being yours?”

   Arthur feels his cheeks flush as he realizes that he had, indeed, said that in front of his servant. He had always felt a certain protectiveness over the other man, he could just never figure out why. As his affections for him grew, he slowly came to realize that Merlin meant a great deal to him. Much more than just a servant, or even just a friend, should. He had never voiced those feelings, those protective instincts towards him. Now, apparently, he had spit them out in anger for several witnesses to hear.

   He flounders for a second, before signing in defeat. “Yes, Merlin. I did. You are more than just my servant, you’re my friend. I care very deeply for you, and I didn’t like seeing you in that position.”

   Merlin stares at him wide eyed for a moment, and Arthur shifts slightly under his practically unblinking eyes. Just when he’s worried that he’s perhaps made Merlin uncomfortable, the man steps closer, and presses their lips together softly. Arthur inhales sharply, hands immediately gravitating to Merlin’s waist. At his subtle touch, Merlin crowds closer, sighing contentedly into the King’s mouth. As Merlin starts to move his lips with more purpose, Arthur kisses him back firmly. His entire body feels light as a feather, as that jealous beast in his chest begins to purr. Maybe he wasn’t so wrong after all. Merlin was his, just as he was Merlin’s.

   Merlin pulls away slowly, letting their foreheads come to rest together as their breaths mingle between their tingling mouths. “Thank you, Arthur. For coming when you did. I didn’t hate the attention, it’s just— it was coming from the wrong person.” He pulls back more, so he can look into Arthur’s eyes properly. “You’re right, I am yours. And not just cause you said so. I’m willingly and happily yours. I have been since the beginning.”

   Arthur smiles genuinely for the first time in what feels like days. The weight on his shoulders falls away instantly, replaced with the feeling of being wrapped continuously in a warm hug. He sways closer and kisses Merlin again, because that was something he could do now, a jolt running through him as Merlin groans appreciatively.

   He chuckles low in his throat as he pulls away and Merlin whines slightly. “We will talk more in depth once our guests from the borders leave, but I do want you to know one thing, without question.” He pauses, and Merlin looks at him curiously. “I love you, Merlin.”

   Merlin breaks out into a dazzling grin. “I love you, too.” He replies softly. He’s just leaning closer, to kiss his King again, when a sudden squeal of delight makes them startle apart.

   “Sorry!” Gwen calls. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I’m really excited that it’s finally happened! I’ll leave you two alone now!”

   As Gwen’s retreating footsteps eventually fade, Arthur and Merlin turn to face each other again. As soon as they make eye contact, they both snort out a laugh. Insistent hands reach out to gather Merlin back up into equally insistent arms, pulling him flush against the King’s chest. He leans in closer, nuzzling their noses together gently.

   “Now.” He breathes. “Where were we?”

   Merlin huffs out a soft laugh. “Somewhere around here, I think. You jealous prat.”

   Before Arthur can reply indignantly, Merlin seals their lips together. With his heart beating a happy rhythm in his chest, and his blood singing in his veins, Arthur really doesn’t care to interrupt with his prepared snarky retort. He would let Merlin win this time. After all, there were plenty of other opportunities for Arthur to get his revenge on Merlin for his affectionate insolence. Each one makes him internally smile more than the last.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from disneyintrovert on Tumblr: Criminal/law enforcement Merthur, where Arthur is hunting Merlin for some reason, and despite all the odds they end up kissing.

   Arthur idly flips through the case file sitting in his lap. His plain cruiser is parked along the side of the road, lights off and engine cold. He had been there for just under two hours already, and he’s starting to question the legitimacy of the intel they had received. They had gotten an anonymous tip earlier that morning that the infamous magic user, Emrys, was currently staying in a nondescript, rundown apartment building near the edge of the city. Arthur, being the Chief-of-Police’s son, was briefed and stationed outside the building as soon as possible, with a stern warning not to fail. So far, nothing has happened.

   Emrys. The name was probably meant to invoke fear in those who heard it, or so Arthur assumes. It did little to strike terror in his heart, but not a lot did. Everyone in the city of Camelot know the name Emrys. Hell, Arthur had heard whispers of the man’s name in cities that were hundreds of kilometres away. He was clearly well known throughout the magical community, even if few people knew who he truly was. That is what has Arthur stuck at the moment. If no one knew his true identity, his real name, then how did this anonymous tipper actually know that the man staying in this particular building was actually Emrys?

   What people did know, was the man’s extracurricular activities. He used magic, blatantly in public places. For that, he was a criminal. Magic was outlawed in the whole of Camelot, and most of the surrounding area. What puzzled Arthur, was the nature of these rumours. Most people he met, swore up and down that Emrys saved their lives. That they wouldn’t be standing there if not for the man and his magic. If he was so evil, why would people say that?

   Closing the file, Arthur rests his head against the cool glass of the car window. How could someone he inherently evil, Most Wanted Number One, but save lives at the same time? He knew what his father would say. That this Emrys had clearly put an enchantment on those people singing his praises. He must have twisted their minds until they would only say the words he wanted them to. Arthur isn’t so sure that’s the case. These people didn’t seem enchanted. And even if they were, what was this Emrys getting out of it anyway? Nothing in his file said anything about murder, or robbery, or any other form of illegal activity. Only possessing and wielding magic. However, years of being raised to hate magic makes Arthur hesitant to believe that Emrys was merely only saving people. Everyone wanted something.

   Movement at the entrance of the apartment building draws Arthur’s attention. A man walks out, hood pulled down low over his head, and shoulder hunched up around his ears. There’s something oddly familiar about him, but Arthur can’t place where he could possibly know him from. He didn’t personally live in this part of town, and constantly trying to prove himself to his father limited any kind of social life that he may have had when he was younger. His only friends were work mates, and he honestly wasn’t sure they even counted as real friends.

   The man starts to walk calmly down the sidewalk, not too slow, but not too fast either. He seemed to have a destination in mind, but was in no worry to get there. Arthur pulls the door handle, and slips out of his cruiser silently. He needs to follow whoever this is. He may be their guy. Then again, he may not, and leaving his post would land him in hot water with his father, but Arthur was sick of sitting and waiting. He was a man of action. He despised waiting for things to happen.

   Arthur keeps his body relaxed, moving with an easy grace that he had learned back in the academy. He was often told that his good looks and boyish charm made him approachable and unthreatening. He’d never had to make use of these observations much in the past, but he feels like they may very well come in handy now. Especially if he gets caught tailing this guy, and he wasn’t their man. 

   As he goes, that feeling of familiarity grows in his chest. There was just something about the way the man moved, the way he held himself, that plucked at a still open wound in Arthur’s chest. He chastises himself for thinking of his ex again, now of all times. If his father knew, he would get quite the severe tongue lashing, for sure. He couldn’t help it though. When he and Merlin had split ways seven months ago, he had never really truly recovered. The pain of losing him was still there, even if pushing the man away had been Arthur’s own decision. He had been the one who held the proverbial scissors and cut the ties holding them together. 

   Shaking his head violently to try and dislodge the thoughts, he soldiers on. He manages to get his head back in the game just in time, too, as the man chooses that exact moment to shoot a discreet glance over his shoulder. His body tenses more, and he picks up the pace. Arthur curses under his breath quietly, speeding up his steps as well. Once he does that, the man ahead of him breaks out into a run.

   “Shit.” Arthur curses, hand reaching to double check that his standard issue pistol was holstered on his hip where it was supposed to be. Feeling the familiar grip, he speeds up. He was fairly confident that he had the right man now. An innocent citizen wouldn’t run like this. He briefly thinks about yelling the company line, but figures that announcing himself as a cop, and telling the man to freeze, would be useless at this point. The man clearly knew who he was, and had no intentions of stopping for a chat. 

   Arthur is proven right when the man picks up his pace more, now almost sprinting down the relatively deserted sidewalks lining the equally deserted street. Luckily for Arthur, he had dedicated himself to keeping fit. He was used to running, and running hard and fast. He kept a diligent daily workout regiment. He falls back on this training now as he weaves around the various obstacles on the street. The man running away from him clearly does not have the same kind of fitness background, and Arthur can tell, even from his short distance away, that the man’s energy is flagging steadily. He pushes his legs to move faster, breaths heaving in his chest as he pumps his arms.

   Suddenly, the man swerves, heading down an alley. Arthur swings around after him, his speed nearly making him collide with the brick wall of the building to his left. His shoulder brushes it slightly, sending him a little off balance, but he soon regains his footing and keeps running. Now that they’re off the main street, he pulls his gun out, holding it with both hands, down by his right hip. This particular alley was essentially a dead end. The man had ducked down an escape route that had proven to be his downfall instead.

   “I know you’re here!” Arthur calls. In his brief struggle with the wall, he had lost sight of his quarry. “Look, I just want to talk, that’s all. We’ll go down to the station, have a little chat. There’s no need for all this fanfare.”

   There’s silence for a moment, before he hears a scoff up ahead. His blood runs cold in his veins, because he knows that scoff. It had been shot in his direction on way too many occasions for him not to know it off by heart. He takes a few more stilted steps, hands on his gun faltering a bit.

   Movement up ahead makes him stop, planting his feet solidly underneath himself, just in case. He tries to settle his breathing, but it still rushes out of his lungs as Merlin steps out of the shadows. His heart pounds beneath his ribcage, trying to break free. This couldn’t be right. Whoever had given them the tip must have gotten it wrong. Arthur knew Merlin. Of course he did. Right? Except...

   “Merlin?” He breathes. He’s aware that his voice is shaking slightly, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He hadn’t seen or heard from Merlin in seven months, and seeing him again like this was puncturing holes into his already fragilely put back together heart. 

   “Hello, Arthur.” Merlin greets, tone guarded. He’s holding himself guarded too. The fact that he’s wary to let Arthur close twists Arthur’s heart further. He nearly gasps around the feeling, but manages to hold it in.

   “What— why— Merlin?” Arthur stumbles over his words, unsure what he even wanted to say.  He simply stares across the dark distance between them, trying to take in as many of Merlin’s features as he could through the shadows enveloping him.

   Very slowly, Merlin takes a step forward. “How did you find me?”

  Arthur blinks, still slightly in shock. “Uhm, we got a tip on the whereabouts of Emrys. Clearly it was wrong, since it only got me here with you. Unless I did get the wrong man.” He glances over his shoulder, back towards the entrance of the alley, uncertainly. Maybe he should go back to his car and wait longer.

   A sharp inhale snaps his gaze back around. Merlin is staring at him intently. Now that he’s slightly closer, Arthur can make out more of his face. What he sees makes his stomach twist and tie up into painful knots.

   “Emrys.” Merlin says softly. “I should have known that your father would eventually stick his best officer on my tail to try and track me down. You always were too damn good at you’re job, Arthur.”

   Arthur hears the flat humour in his tone, and shakes his head desperately. “No. No there has to be some kind of mistake. You can’t be him. He’s a criminal, Merlin. He’s breaking the law.”

   A few more hesitant steps brings Merlin even closer. Arthur studies his face, frantic for some shred of evidence there that will tell him that Merlin’s lying to him. This couldn’t be true. Merlin and Emrys had to be different people. Merlin, his Merlin, couldn’t be the most wanted criminal in all of Camelot. However, all he sees is a tense set to Merlin’s jaw, a haunted look in the man’s eyes. He wasn’t lying.

   “Arthur, I’m sorry.” He says softly, and Arthur’s stomach curls tighter.

   “You’re sorry?” Arthur splutters. “How long? Is it an alias passed from person to person? Were you him when we were together?”

   He doesn’t miss the way Merlin winces before he replies, “Arthur, I’ve always had magic. It wasn’t a choice for me, it was just the way I was born. I tried to hide it, took the magic suppressors that my uncle Gaius made up for me, but after a while I didn’t want to deny who I was anymore. It was too hard.”

   “You didn’t answer my question.” Arthur says quietly, a hard edge to his voice that he isn’t used to. Merlin visibly winces again. At the subtle movement, Arthur’s stomach sinks deeper into his boots.

   “For as long as the rumours about Emrys have been around, the name has belonged to me.” Merlin says, resignation lacing his tone. His shoulders slump in defeat as Arthur takes a shaky breath. 

   “You must have been one hell of a liar to fool me for over a year.” Arthur says without thinking, mind whiplashing back in time. He had never gotten the feeling from Merlin back then that he had been lying to him. They had been close, both physically and emotionally. Arthur remembers it feeling huge and important to him, as he hadn’t connected with anyone quite like that before. Or since. It wasn’t until the end, when Merlin had started cancelling plans, arriving home late, making up excuses, that Arthur had ever had reason to doubt him. A sudden, painful thought flits through his mind, and his lips part on the words before he can stop them. 

   “Were you always just using me? Having a cop as your boyfriend, and the son of the Chief of Police at that, would’ve made eluding arrest that much easier. Was I just a tool for you? An unknowing accomplice, feeding you information without knowing it?”

   Merlin pales, shaking his head frantically. “No! Arthur, how could to ever think that? I loved you! It was you who ended things, remember, not me.”

   A scoff leaves Arthur’s lips. “No, you wouldn’t have wanted to end things if I was useful to you.”

   Real pain settles over Merlin’s features, and despite everything, Arthur feels a tinge of guilt creep into his chest. He never could stand hurting Merlin. Taking his heart back from the man’s hands, watching him crumple before him, had been the single hardest thing Arthur had ever done in his entire life.

   “Then why never tell me?” Arthur asks. He’s surprised at how raw he sounds now, the pain from everything that happened seven months ago rushing back to the surface like no time had passed at all.

   Looking away, Merlin hugs his arms protectively around himself. “I wanted to tell you, Arthur. You have to believe me. I just... I couldn’t.”

   “You couldn’t?” Arthur says tonelessly. “Please forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

   “If I had told you, what would you have done?” Merlin bursts out, eyes wild. “I know how important your career is to you, and I know who your father is. If I had told you, you would have felt duty bound to turn me in.”

   Arthur reels back slightly. “You actually think I would’ve betrayed you like that?” He wheezes, slightly breathless.

   Another shaky step forward brings Merlin almost within touching distance. “No, of course not. I trusted you, Arthur. That wasn’t the problem.”

   “Then what was?” Arthur snaps.

   Merlin’s eyes soften slightly, “I didn’t want to put you on a position where you had to choose between me and your career. I know you have a rocky relationship with your father, and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

   “That’s what you were worried about?” Arthur asks. “Me?”

   At Merlin’s subtle nod, Arthur’s head spins. He’s suddenly second guessing every decision he’s ever made, and he can feel a dull throb starting up behind his eyes. Was Merlin telling him the truth? If he was, what did it mean? Where did he go from here? He had been sent to bring Emrys in. If he failed, what would his father do? He knew that his father would never lay a hand on him, but he did have the ability to destroy Arthur’s entire life with the merest strokes of a pen.

   Before he can spiral too deep into his thoughts, Merlin settles a hand on his arm. The touch is light, barely even there, but it still sets Arthur’s body on fire. He can still feel Merlin in his bones, remembers what he tastes like, what he feels like under his hands. He looks up into familiar blue eyes and suddenly feels short of breath.

   “Arthur, do you know why I’m being hunted?” He asks softly. Arthur looks back confused. 

   “Because you use magic.” He replies hoarsely.

   Merlin smiles sadly. “Yes, I have magic. I use it to help people, Arthur. I’ve only ever used it to save people’s lives. I was given something that I thought was a curse for so long, but now I know it’s a gift. It’s a tool for good. Why have all this power, if I can’t use it to change the world for the better?” 

   Arthur doesn’t know what to say. He just stares at Merlin. In awe or in wonder or in just plain confusion. He’s not even sure anymore. A thought tickles at the edges of his mind, and he reluctantly lets it in. Lets it take root in his mind. Lets it flourish and grow and bloom.

   “All those times you weren’t around, that you cancelled plans, and I thought—” He says, his voice dragging off, unable to say the words at first. “I accused you of— and you were actually—”

   Merlin steps closer again. “Yes, Arthur. I was never cheating on you. I was out helping people, using what I was given to benefit other people.”

   “Why—” Arthur chokes off, having to swallow heavily before continuing. “Why didn’t you stand up for yourself? Why let me think the worst of you?”

   The man shrugs slightly. “I know you, Arthur. Once you have something in your head, it’s very hard to shake out. There was no way for me to explain what was happening without exposing myself to you. I didn’t want to bring you fully into my mess, and it felt like the easier option for both of us to simply let you hate me.”

   The sound of his voice, the pain still so clear as day in his words, makes Arthur’s chest constrict painfully. He had accused Merlin of so many things, and for what? He had hurled insults at him, broken them both, and all for what?

   “I’m so sorry, Merlin.” He breathes brokenly. “I— I should have listened to you. I loved you, and I still assumed the worst of you, simply because of the way I was raised. My father instilled in me this distrust of people, and instead of working with you, I just cast you aside. I— Merlin.”

   He has no idea what he really wants to say. He has so much swirling around in his chest, built up from seven months of not seeing Merlin’s face. There’s so much unsaid between them, still broken, and for the first time in seven months, he desperately wants to cross that bridge. He wants to make it better, extend a hand out to Merlin to see if the other man is willing to reach out and grasp it.

   Sirens sounding in the distance makes Arthur jump. He looks behind him, and curses under his breath. Turning back to Merlin, he looks at him with slightly panicky eyes. “Someone must have seen me chasing you and called the cops. They’ll be here soon.”

   Merlin doesn’t say anything, just steps closer and kisses him softly. It sends Arthur back the chaste kisses goodbye, and lazy smooches in the morning. He’s yearned for this ever since he and Merlin said goodbye all those months ago. His heart stutters in his chest as he kisses back desperately, not sure when he’ll ever get the chance again.

   “I love you, Arthur.” Merlin murmurs. “My heart never stopped loving you.”

   Arthur nearly chokes on a sob. “Me too, Merlin. I love you, too.” The sirens are getting closer, and Arthur feels an ache in his chest where he’s pretty sure his heart is supposed to be. “You need to go.”

   “What?” Merlin asks, confusion screwing his face up.

   “You need to go.” Arthur repeats firmly, no matter how badly his body is screaming for Merlin to stay. “They’ll be here any moment, and they’ll take you away. You must go. Run, hide, whatever you need to do to stay safe. You just can’t stay here where they will find you.”

   Merlin looks conflicted. “But what about you? What happens when they learn that you had me, and let me go.”

   A hollow smile tugs at Arthur’s lips. “Don’t worry about me, Merlin. If there’s anything I’m used to, it’s getting lectures from my father.” When Merlin still hesitates, he adds desperately, “Please, Merlin! I can’t watch them take you! I can’t watch them suck the life out you!”

   Merlin presses closer and kisses him again, full of intent and promises and passion. When he pulls away, letting their foreheads press together firmly, Arthur’s breathing is shakily and his entire body feels heavy with loss. Merlin hasn’t even left yet. Could he really watch the man disappear again?

   “I’ll find you, Arthur. Somehow, I will contact you again. I promise.” Merlin whispers fiercely into the limited space between them. Arthur doesn’t know why, but he believes him. He nods numbly, as best he can, feeling his heart beat hard in his chest. 

   “I know. Now go.” He replies, just as quietly, but no less heavy with emotion. Merlin takes one last long look over Arthur’s face as he pulls fully away, then nods. Turning, he runs toward the the imposing brick wall at the end, then impossibly starts to climb it.

   ‘Magic.’ Arthur thinks, watching as Merlin disappears from view. It’s like he had never been standing in front of Arthur at all. He blinks a few times, swallowing heavily against the bile creeping up his throat.

   The sound of approaching footsteps makes Arthur take a step back from where Merlin had been standing. He trips over some debris in the alley, arms flailing out through thin air as he tries to catch himself. He lands heavily on the damp asphalt, the breath momentarily leaving his  lungs. His tailbone throbs in complaint as the telltale sound of those footsteps entering the alley reaches his ears.

   “Sergeant Pendragon, are you okay?” One of the constables calls as they get closer.

   Arthur winces slightly. “Yes, I’m fine.” He grits out.

   “What happened?” Another asks, curious eyes glancing around. Arthur quickly tosses about ideas, trying to come up with any way to get Merlin out of trouble. He spots a dark doorway off to the side, and latches onto it as an excuse where Merlin could’ve gone should these men ask.

   “Nothing much. I wasn’t in uniform, so the man I was following thought I was actually trying to attack him.” His voice is even and smooth. When did he become so good at lying?

   The men all nod, not even questioning his words. Arthur knows that he should feel bad for lying to them, when they clearly have so much trust in him, but the emotion won’t come. Not when Merlin is safe. For now, at least. They help him to his feet, his body already aching from his tumble to the unforgiving ply hard ground. He was going to have some bruises tomorrow. 

   As they walk with him from the alley, asking a few follow up questions, Arthur discreetly looks over his shoulder, back where Merlin had disappeared. He didn’t know why, but he just knew that he would see Merlin again. They definitely had a few more things to discuss, but he had a strong feeling that they would work things out. After all, he had never felt so close to someone as he had to Merlin. That had to count for something, right? 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from dyingbetweenthepages on Tumblr: Merthur kissing in the library.

   The sun is dipping low toward the horizon, the torches inside the castle, and out, being lit. The day is slowly coming to an end, and most people were finishing up the last of their business for the day before heading home to retire for the night. The guards slotted with the night watch shifts are heading to their posts, the ones they’re relieving walking through the castle halls with the sluggish steps of one who’s been on their feet all day. The guards and serving staff are not the only ones walking the castle halls at this late hour, however. The King is also prowling along, eyes searching high and low for his wayward Court Sorcerer.

   Arthur had promoted Merlin to his new position only a month prior. Merlin had resisted, not wanting to give up his old duties as servant to His Royal Highness. Arthur had assured him that he could remain as his servant, as long as his added duties didn’t wear him out. He didn’t want Merlin wearing himself thin, and working himself to death. Merlin had, of course, promised him that he would be fine, and grudgingly accepted his new role with flushed cheeks. Arthur knew this shift in Merlin’s life would change a few things between them, namely less time spent together, but this was the first time that he hadn’t been able to find Merlin at all.

   He systematically goes through every place he can think of where Merlin might be. He isn’t in his new chambers, conveniently placed as close to Arthur’s as the King could manage. He isn’t in his old chambers with Gaius, either. The physician hasn’t seen him, or so he says. He had spent the past many years covering for the boy, so who knew if he was actually telling the truth or not. He isn’t in the kitchens, or the armoury, or the Council Chambers, or even the stables. Arthur is just about ready to storm down into the Lower Town to pop into The Rising Son when he spots Gwen.

   “Ah, Guinevere!” He calls, catching her attention before she can slip away. She stops and turns to look at him, sweet face creased with curiosity. 

   “Yes, Your Majesty?” She asks, dipping into a very small curtsy.

   The King has half a mind to tell her that, as his friend, she doesn’t really need to act so deferential when there was no one else around, but he brushes the words aside. There were other things he needed to say, and he knew that Gwen would remain respectful in all situations anyway. It was just ingrained in her from working in the Royal Household under the rule of his father. Up until Merlin had burst unceremoniously into his life, he had enjoyed the almost reverent way people treated him. Now, he usually just wanted to be treated like everyone else. Just a man, and not a king.

   “Have you seen Merlin? I can’t find him anywhere.” He says, his eyes roaming the hall to prove his point. Gwen smiles at him, and although it’s a friendly smile, it also has hints of something else in it too. Almost like she wants to tell him that he’s an idiot, but just doesn’t want to actually say the words to his face. 

   “You should check the library.” She tells him. “He’s been there late most nights recently, once his duties for the day are over.”

   Arthur wrinkles his nose in confusion. The library? What on earth would Merlin be needing to do in the library so late in the evening? Surely any kind of research he needed to do could be done during the day, when there was actually light to see the inked pages by.

   “Is there anything else, Sire?” Gwen’s soft voice pulls him forcibly back to the present. He looks at her, only now seeing the exhaustion creeping in around her eyes. He immediately feels guilty for stopping her. She must be tired after a long day of work. Merlin was always complaining about how exhausted he was by the end of the day. Gwen would never so openly voice her weariness to the King.

   “Yes, of course, Gwen. I’m sorry for keeping you. Thank you, I will check the library.” He offers her a smile, one which she easily returns. There’s something knowing in her eyes though, secretly pleased, but Arthur doesn’t dwell on it too long. He was only just now letting himself accept the obvious feelings he had for Merlin. He simply didn’t have the energy to accept that other people knew about them as well.

   “You’re welcome, Arthur. Have a good night.” She replies, turning and taking easy steps away down the hall. Arthur watches her go, surprised that she had used his name instead of his title. Once she disappears from view, Arthur shakes himself. He still had a warlock to find before retiring for the night himself, after all. 

   The library. Confusion still riddles Arthur’s mind as he makes his way back through the castle toward the room on the other side of the castle that Geoffrey ruled over. Why would Merlin be there, of all places? Obviously he knew that Merlin had gone there to read. Why else would one be in a library? He just couldn’t figure out why? And why not tell Arthur? The two of them were so used to going everywhere together, that they often always told the other where they were going be now that their separate duties sometimes required them to be in different places at the same time. Was Merlin hiding something from him? The thought makes Arthur feel a little ill, a sour and bitter taste lingering on his tongue.

   The library doors are closed, but unlocked, and Arthur pushes through inside. The room is dark, Geoffrey nowhere in sight. He must have left for his chambers already. Meaning that he took the key with him, so Merlin used his magic to get inside. Not illegal anymore, but questionable. Why not just ask Arthur for the other key? A soft, blueish-white light is glowing in one of the farther corners of the room, so Arthur heads in that direction, hoping that it is Merlin he finds hiding away between the shelves, and not someone else.

   Just as he had hoped, he finds Merlin tucked away between two of the imposing bookshelves. A glowing white orb hangs suspended in the air beside him, just like the one that Arthur remembers from the Caves of Balor all those years ago. Even now, knowing that it had been Merlin who sent the light, seeing it again still makes his breath hitch just the tiniest amount. Shifting his focus from the light to the man himself, his breath nearly leaves his lungs entirely when he sees the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Since when did Merlin wear glasses to read?

   “Merlin?” He says softly, not wanting to startle the man. However, Merlin must’ve missed Arthur’s approaching footsteps, and jumps anyway. He looks up, wide eyed. After a second, he fumbles the glasses off, stowing away in his jacket pocket.

   “Arthur? What are you doing here?” He asks. His voice is a little high pitched and strained. Maybe not noticeable to people who merely knew Merlin in passing, but unmissable by the King.

   “I was looking for you. Gwen pointed me in this direction. What are you doing here?” He replies nonchalantly. Truth be told, he honestly didn’t even really remember what he had needed Merlin for in the first place. It had taken so long to find him, that his original purpose had faded into just wanting to make sure that the man was safe.

   Merlin glances down at the books strewn around him. “I’m reading.”

   The King huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I can see that, Merlin.” A smile tugs at the corners of Merlin’s mouth, making Arthur grin slightly. “What exactly are you reading?”

   The warlock chews on his lower lip uncertainly for a moment, and it occurs to Arthur that he’s trying to decide whether to tell the King the truth or not. That realization makes a pit form in Arthur’s stomach. After all this time, did Merlin still not truly trust him?

   Finally, after what feels like an eternity of tense silence, Merlin says, “I’m looking for a spell.”

   Cocking his head slightly to the side, Arthur steps closer. His eyes rake over the various books spread about the floor. A few have been cast aside, like they hadn’t had what Merlin was looking for and were thrown away in frustration. Nothing about the haphazard mess surrounding his Court Sorcerer gives any clues as to what spell he was searching for.

   Quirking an eyebrow in question, he asks, “What kind of spell?”

   Again, Merlin chews on his lower lip, eyes shifting away to drift over the books as well. Arthur studies him intently, trying to fathom out why he was suddenly being so closed off, when he hadn’t been before. Had Arthur unknowingly done something to anger him? To upset him? If he had messed up in any way, he wanted to know what, and how to fix it. This avoidance business wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere.

   “Fine.” Merlin sighs wearily. “I’ll tell you.” Arthur nods, clearly some books away so he can sit down across from Merlin and look at him expectantly. Merlin shifts ever so subtly backwards, but Arthur catches the movement, and almost bites his tongue. What had be done to make Merlin behave this way?

   “Well?” He pushes, when no more words are forthcoming.

   Merlin looks away, avoiding eye contact. “I’m looking for a spell that can mask emotions. Not necessarily make them disappear, but just hide them so they aren’t felt as strongly.”

   The words float around Arthur, not making any sense. Why would Merlin be looking for a spell like that? Did he have unrequited feelings for someone? Something that Arthur is fairly sure is jealousy stirs in his chest. 

   “Why?” The word tumbles out of Arthur’s mouth unbidden. He just couldn’t help himself. He needed to know what Merlin was up to.

   The warlock shrugs slightly. “You’d be surprised how many maidens I have coming to me for help with their undying love for you.” He quips. Arthur only cracks a small smile, detecting Merlin’s humour for what it was. A way to try to change the subject. To reroute Arthur’s attention away from the issue at hand. As much as he didn’t want to cause Merlin any undue stress, leaving it be would only fester the problem.

   “Must be a real hardship.” Arthur replies. “But Merlin, what’s the real reason?”

   Merlin’s eyes shutter closed, the emotion that had been starting to show through suddenly being cut off. A wrinkle forms on his brow, and his eyes flick over the area around them, never focusing on one thing for too long. Almost like he was afraid that if he kept still for too long, that Arthur would be able to see right through him. Deciding that Merlin needed to be reassured that everything is okay, Arthur shifts closer to lay a comforting hand on his arm. Merlin tenses under his touch for a moment before slowly relaxing to his previous state.

   “Merlin?” Arthur prompts gently. 

   With a deep sigh, Merlin says, “Do you remember the Lady Vivian?”

   Arthur frowns. Of course he did. That had been one of his first experiences with love spells and magic, and he hadn’t enjoyed the experience. He looks at Merlin oddly. After that whole fiasco had been averted, they hadn’t spoken about it again. Arthur, however much he mourned it, hardly remembered the kiss at all. He had the vaguest memory of lips pressed to his briefly, but that was it. Merlin never brought it up, steadfastly pretending like it had never happened. Arthur, although feeling oddly bereft, never pushed it.

   “Yes, you know I do, Merlin.” He tells the man. Merlin nods tensely.

   “I just— I couldn’t help thinking about her the other day. The way she had just been left the way she was. The enchantment on you was broken, but what if it hasn’t for her? What if she’s still pining away for you?” Merlin nods once, and finally meets Arthur’s eyes. “I was thinking, if I could find a spell that could mask those feelings, then she could get on with her life, to an extent, until she did find true love for herself and was cured.”

   The King studies Merlin’s face. Part of him believed what he had heard. The other part felt that Merlin still wasn’t telling him something. While it may be a gallant reason to look into such a spell, why now after all these years? No, there had to be another reason, something else driving his intentions. But what?

   Instead of deciding to push the matter, Arthur just reaches for the nearest book, and pulls it closer. He opens the cover, eyes roaming over the unfamiliar words scrawled across the page. He blinks, and turns the page. As much as he wanted to help, he was unfortunately going to be of little use to Merlin.

   Sure enough, Merlin clears his throat, and says, “Arthur, what are you doing?”

   Without looking up, Arthur replies, “I’m helping. What does it look like I’m doing?”

   Hands reach out and gently pull the book from his grasp. When he looks up, Merlin has a fond smile on his face. Fond but mildly exasperated. Arthur was well acquainted with the look. 

   “What?” He asks defensively. He knows he isn’t much use in this situation, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to help. He wasn’t used to not being equipped to help someone with their problems. Helping his people was part of his duty.

   “Arthur, these texts are all written in a language you can’t read. As much as I appreciate the effort, there’s not much that you can do here.” Merlin’s voice is soft, bordering on affectionate, even, and it makes Arthur’s blood sing.

   Huffing a sigh, he asks, “Then what can I do? This seems like a fairly large task to undertake on your own.”

   Merlin eyes him critically, appraising what he had said. He stares back, not wanting to back down in any way. He wanted to help, and he wanted Merlin to know that. To believe it. Arthur may not understand magic. He really only knew enough to create new laws, repeal the ban, slowly bring magic back into the kingdom. That was as far as his knowledge went, however. After all, he had Merlin by his side more often than not to answer any questions he may have.

   “Fine.” Merlin says, leaning back to sort through an unsteady pile of books. “You can read these.” He shoves three large books into Arthur’s lap. The King stares down at them mutely for a moment.

   Flipping open the cover of one, and noticing that he can actually read the words inked on the page, he asks, “What exactly are these?”

   “History of magic tomes. They won’t hold any actual spells, but they might speak of sorcerers who may have come up with what I’m looking for. Once I know who created an idea, I’ll have a better idea of where to look.” Merlin replies. He’s eyeing Arthur warily, like he’s expecting Arthur to shove the books aside, and ultimately decide to leave. The King shifts two of the books onto the floor, settling back against the shelf behind him to open the one in his hands. If Merlin wanted him to read these, then he would do his best to take in every word. 

   After a moment of startled silence on Merlin’s part, they lapse into an easy quiet, filled only with the turn of a page every now and then. Arthur finds the book he’s immersed in both fascinating, and horribly dull. He wanted to learn more about magic, if not for his sake, then definitely for his people. Definitely for Merlin. However, history had never been his strong suit, even as a child. He knew the importance of history, the lessons it taught, but he finds the way it is presented to often be flat. It was usually just straight facts, written in a basic format. It didn’t hold his attention for very long, no matter what kind of history was being learned.

   When the words begin to blur into each other too much, Arthur sets the book aside, and studies Merlin. He knows that Merlin is aware of his intense gaze, he’s squirming slightly, though trying to to show it. However, he doesn’t look up. He keeps his gaze resolutely downwards, studiously flipping pages. Eventually, Arthur gets tired of the silence, and decides to push his friend for a little more information.

   “Merlin, why are you doing this?” His voice is soft and quiet, but it still feels like it shatters the silent stillness around them. Splinters it irreparably.

   “I told—” Merlin starts, but Arthur cuts him off.

   “I know what you told me, and as admirable as those intentions are, I don’t believe that they’re the whole truth. Now, why are you really doing this, Merlin?” He makes sure to sound as open and approachable as possible. He wants Merlin to feel like he can tell Arthur anything that’s on his mind. Not because the King demands it from him, but because he wants to share. To confide in his friend. 

   Merlin slowly closes the book in his hands, setting it off to the side with the others. Instead of answering, though, he pushes himself up to his feet and starts walking away. Arthur splutters for a moment, not expecting that reaction at all, and scrambles to his feet as well to catch him.

   “Merlin!” He calls, taking long strides in order to stop the other man from reaching the door before he can get to him. Reaching out, he wraps his fingers loosely around Merlin’s wrist, pulling him to a stop. He watches with confusion as Merlin reluctantly halts his movement, still refusing to look at him. “Are you just going to walk out of here and leave all those books for Geoffrey to put away tomorrow?”

   “Yes.” Merlin says emotionlessly.

   Arthur’s at a loss for words for a moment. “That’s not like you, Merlin.”

   “What, Arthur? I’m tired, and just want to go to bed.” Merlin says softly.

   “Just tell me what’s actually going on. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t fix something if I don’t know what it is I’m mending.” The King replies quietly, the words demanding the softer tone as they leave his mouth. Merlin heaves a silent sigh, Arthur can tell by the way his shoulders rise and fall dramatically.

   “Why?” The warlock retorts. Arthur’s brow creases with a frown.

   “Because you’re my friend, and I care about you.” He replies.

   Very slowly, and reluctantly, Merlin turns around. He looks up into the King’s face, meeting his eyes almost stubbornly. He swallows thickly, Arthur forcing himself not to stare at his throat. After a deep inhale, Merlin squares his shoulders and nods slightly.

   “The spell is for me.” He says calmly, but Arthur can see the fear lurking in his eyes. 

   “For you?” Arthur repeats, feeling a little lost. “Who would be stupid enough to not love you with everything that they have?”

   Merlin’s eyes drop away immediately. He looks vaguely panic stricken, and Arthur just stares at him for a moment, processing his words and his body language. Merlin rarely ever looked so shifty, so caged in. Whatever he had just admitted was difficult for him, that much Arthur could tell. Slowly, it all starts to click into place in his brain, and then it dawns on him.

Oh.

   Moving slowly, so as not to scare him, Arthur reaches out to gently cup Merlin’s jaw, guiding his face around to look at him again. Merlin feels a little resistant, but looks where Arthur wants him to. What Arthur sees makes his heart hurt. Merlin looks ashamed. Like the feelings he has are dirty, and unwanted. Arthur lets his eyes flick over very feature of Merlin’s face, before settling on his lips. With a soft smile, he slowly leans in, his eyes slipping shut as he finally feels what Merlin’s mouth feels like against his.

   Merlin exhales shakily, but kisses him back. The embrace is slow and chaste. There’s no further intent there, just fondness and affection. Arthur kisses Merlin for a bit longer before slowly pulling away. Meeting Merlin’s eyes, he smiles wider, eyes going unbearably soft.

   “Did that help solve your problem at all?” He asks cheekily, the smile slipping into a full on grin. Merlin heaves a shaky breath, and then steps closer. He curls into Arthur’s body, wrapping his arms tightly around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur’s own arms snake around Merlin’s waist, pulling him in as close as possible. Merlin is warm and pliant in his arms, and he can’t help but press his nose into Merlin’s soft, dark hair, and leave a lingering kiss against the side his head.

   “I love you, Merlin.” He breathes gently in Merlin’s ear. He feels the man shudder in his arms, before a muffled reply comes.

   “I love you, too, Arthur.” Merlin’s lips graze the bare skin of Arthur’s neck as he speaks, sending a shiver down the King’s spine.

  Closing his eyes, he murmurs, “How about we head to bed? We’re both exhausted. We can talk further in the morning.”

   With a sniff, Merlin pulls back. He’s smiling, but his eyes are suspiciously glassy. Arthur doesn’t comment on them, just lets his hands fall from Merlin’s body, instead taking one of his hands in his and squeezing gently. He gets a squeeze back, and then he’s leading Merlin out of the library. He marvels at the feelings of Merlin’s hand in his as they walk through the halls back to Arthur’s chambers. When Merlin tries to pull away to go to his own, Arthur tightens his hold, earning him a confused look from the warlock.

   Arthur simply pulls Merlin into his chambers, leading him across the floor to his large bed. Letting go of his hand, he gestures to the bed in invitation. Merlin had changed into his looser sleeping clothes before heading to the library, so Arthur scoops his up into his arms and disappears behind the changing screen. When he steps back out into the room, Merlin is still hovering uncertainly beside the bed, although he has shed his jacket.

   “Get in, you idiot.” Arthur orders fondly, slipping beneath the sheets and blankets himself. He pats the mattress beside him, and Merlin finally climbs in as well. He settles a fair distance away, and Arthur huffs before sliding closer. He wraps himself around Merlin’s body, curling Merlin’s back into his chest protectively. Merlin tenses for a moment before going boneless in his arms. It doesn’t take long after that before he’s asleep in Arthur’s warm and strong hold. Arthur buries his nose in Merlin’s hair and breathes him in. As sleep slowly pulls him under, he feels completely content for the first time in his life, like the piece of him that had been missing was finally back in place where it belonged. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from illiterateowl on AO3: Arthur is somewhat obsessed with Merlin’s magic and Merlin has no idea why Arthur gets weird when he uses it. Maybe there’s some lighthearted chaos like some spells gone wrong because Merlin’s concentration is broken by Arthur’s attention.

   Arthur clearly remembers the first time he ever saw Merlin using magic. It had been shortly before his father passed, when he had been rushing back to his chambers to grab some sheets of parchment that he had forgotten to take to the council meeting that morning. As Prince Regent, it was his duty to deal with court matters, and therefore his responsibility to bring the necessary paperwork. In his hurry, he didn’t bother giving Merlin any notice that he was going to come bursting into his chambers. Merlin was his servant, and he was supposed to be down with the laundresses at that point in the morning anyway. He had slowed his steps once he got closer, not wanting the guards to see him so harried, and calmly opened the door. What he saw nearly made him faint.

   Merlin was standing in the middle of the room, holding one of Arthur’s dirty tunics up in front of him. It was the one he had accidentally spilled red wine on, when he had knocked Arthur’s goblet over at dinner the previous night. The large red stain was in plain view, but then Merlin muttered a few unintelligible words, and the stain vanished right before Arthur’s eyes. The Prince just managed to catch the fading flicker of gold in Merlin’s eyes, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Merlin was a sorcerer. His trusted servant had magic. His friend possessed something that he had always been told was evil. And it was... beautiful.

   Taking a step back, he had closed the door. He cared little for what the guards would think of his weird behaviour as he opened the doors again, much louder than he had the first time. Merlin had jumped slightly, fumbling the now clean shirt behind his back, and looking up at the Prince as innocently as possible. Arthur had merely muttered about the reports of grain stores and various patrol sightings, swept into the room to grab the stack of parchment off his desk, then all but ran from the room. All without a single proper glance in Merlin’s direction.

   For a week afterward, he had felt oddly adrift. By the laws of Camelot, he was duty bound to bring Merlin’s crimes to light, to order his execution, but he could not. Merlin was very special to him, in more ways than a man, and certainly a servant, should ever be. Despite his feelings toward the man, however, he still felt the twinges of betrayal in his chest. He pushed them aside for as long as he could, but one night they became too much. In a fit of anger, he ripped his chambers apart, some petty side of him satisfied that Merlin would have to clean it all up. And clean it up he did, with Arthur sitting there the entire time to prevent him from using magic even once to help aid the task.

   In the end, after his anger had passed, he had decided not to say anything at all, not to Merlin, or to anyone else. It was not his secret to share, and he would not force Merlin to reveal himself when he was not yet ready to do so. Arthur just had to have faith that Merlin would eventually feel safe enough to tell him. After all, with everything that Merlin had done for him, and continued to do for him, he certainly wasn’t using his magic to try and undermine him. That much was obvious. It wasn’t a betrayal in the way others had done in the past.

   After that, Arthur noticed Merlin’s magic nearly everywhere. Honestly, how had the boy survived in Camelot this long? When out on a hunt with a few of the knights, he had used magic to help him light the fire when the branches were damp with past rainfall. After a cursory glance around, he had ducked his head to better hide his eyes, and whispered some kind of spell. As the flames roared to life, to the applause from the knights who insisted it couldn’t be done, all Arthur could see was the flare of rich gold in Merlin’s eyes. It could easily have been passed off as a reflection from the now dancing flames, if one didn’t know any better. Arthur did know better though, unbeknownst to Merlin. It truly was one of the most beautiful things the Prince had ever seen.

   It was after the king passed, and Arthur took his place on the throne, that Merlin finally came clean to him. He had been nervous, twitchy, and flighty. Arthur had sat calmly through the confession, donning an attitude of aloofness. He didn’t want Merlin to think this was a big, bad thing. Instead, he had simply nodded, told Merlin that he appreciated the honesty, and then continued on like nothing had happened. Merlin had been odd for a few days afterward, but then slowly settled back into their routine. Or, rather, some semblance of their routine.

   Merlin did his chores as usual, only he slipped some magic into some of the tasks. He always made it horribly obvious, and always made sure that the King was watching first. He’d set the bedsheets to straightening themselves out. The hearth would sweep clean without a touch from Merlin’s hands. Clothes would fold themselves and fly into the wardrobe. It was all very benign, and small, and unthreatening, but stunning all the same. 

   Arthur had a keen interest in watching Merlin do magic. He couldn’t help it. Merlin, at the best of times, was as graceful as a newborn foal. He tripped over his own feet, fumbled dishes and trays, and could barely keep his own tiny room clean, let along the King’s grand chambers. However, when he used magic, there was a quiet sort of power about him. He was calm and confident. The air around him seemed to almost shimmer as he bent reality to what he wanted it to be. Not to mention the way his eyes turning into glowing pools of liquid gold. It truly was a sight to behold, and Arthur was finding himself more and more drawn in. He almost couldn’t get enough of it.

   Of course, he couldn’t very well reveal how in awe and obsessed he was with Merlin’s magic. That would please Merlin way too much, and give other people the wrong idea (not that their assumptions would actually be wrong, but as King, Arthur had a certain image that he had to grudgingly adhere to. Pining after his servant would certainly displease the council). Instead, he kept a mask of impassive disinterest on his face, and made sure to never let it slip. This had the added benefit of having Merlin use his magic in his presence more, no doubt in an effort to change his attitude towards it. However, with every spell cast, every flash of golden eyes, every flicker of quickly hidden disappointment, Arthur felt his mask slipping. His resolve to keep his affections for the man waned with every passing day. Maybe he didn’t care as much as he had thought about what the council deemed correct behaviour for him.

~~~

   There was something off about Arthur. Not in a ‘he was sick way’ or even a ‘he had a lot on his plate and was stressed’ way. No, he was just acting differently. Deep down, Merlin knew it was because of his magic. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew. The man had been raised his whole life to view magic as the epitome of evil. It had been foolish of Merlin to hope that he could convince him otherwise with one nearly heartstoppingly terrifying confession. Still, the King wasn’t quite acting the way Merlin had expected. Weird, yes, but not defensive. Not wrathful. If anything, he appeared to be unimpressed.

   In an effort to see how far he could really push the King, Merlin had started using magic all the time. When he was doing his list of duties, he let his magic run wild. Every time, he made sure Arthur was there, and that he was watching. And watch Arthur did. Only, he stayed stony faced. Every now and then, Merlin would catch a gleam in his eyes, but he could never tell what exactly it meant. It was simply there one second and gone the next.

   He even went so far as to talk to the knights, asking what they thought of the situation, and of Arthur’s behaviour. They all said the same thing. “Give him time. He’ll come around eventually.” What they didn’t understand was that every time Arthur watched him do magic, then look away like he didn’t care, hurt Merlin more than he would ever truly admit. His magic was a part of himself, and to have the man that he had slowly fallen in love with brush it aside like it mattered very little was painful. He wanted nothing more than to have the King say something about it. Even if all he did was get angry and yell, at least it would be a reaction. Not this weird limbo they seemed to have found themselves in.

   About the time he starts to think about confronting the King, is when he notices his attitude change. It’s subtle, nearly not even there, but it’s enough for Merlin. They’re out in the forest, Arthur having insisted on heading out for a routine patrol, and as usual, Merlin is in charge of setting up camp. He is bone tired from rising with the sun, and riding hard all day. Arthur hadn’t been out of the castle in quite a while, so he had wanted to make the most of his limited freedom. Merlin, being unable to ever really deny the man anything he truly wanted, had indulged him. Now his muscles ached and his body was screaming for rest. With the daunting tasks of finding firewood, building a fire, laying out their bedrolls, feeding and watering the horses, and cooking something for dinner, Merlin had simply let his magic loose.

   Arthur stills beside him, watching as their supplies merrily danced through the air, setting themselves wherever they need to be. The horses are being brushed and properly bedded down for the night, the fire is flickering to life, the rabbits that Arthur had caught are preparing themselves to go on the spit, and the bedrolls are laying themselves out on the least rocky parts of the ground. Using his magic almost seems to rejuvenate Merlin somewhat, it having been pent up all day. He breathes a sigh of relief, the feeling akin to stretching out a sore muscle after strenuous exercise. When he looks over at the King, he sees barely concealed wonder in his eyes, which are trained on him. Not on what’s going on around them, but on his face. His eyes, specifically. 

   He blinks self-consciously, half turning away. He had grudgingly grown used to the lacklustre way the King had reacted to his magic in the past. This? This he had to idea what to do with. It was obvious that Arthur was trying to mask his reaction, and Merlin couldn’t figure out why. As their things settle down, stopping their movements as they finish their tasks, Merlin decides that once they return to the castle, he will speak to Arthur about it. After all, if he couldn’t talk to his best friend about his concerns, then was he really his best friend at all?

~~~

   It takes another week before Merlin plucks up the courage to talk to Arthur. A week of Arthur reverting back to how he had been before, only now he was fidgety. Whenever Merlin used magic around him, his fingers would twitch, and his foot would jiggle on the floor. If he was holding something, he’d twist it around in his hands restlessly. All the while though, his eyes never strayed from Merlin. They’d flick over the features of his face, sometimes slip down to his hands, depending on what he was doing. Every now and then he’d glance around at the empty air around Merlin, as if expecting to see something there. The undivided attention often made Merlin a little nervous. A little on edge. What exactly was Arthur thinking? Was it good? Bad? It was killing him to not be able to read the King’s mind.

   The day he decides to confront Arthur, dawns bright and warm. It’s as good a time as any to speak with the King, especially since Merlin knows that there isn’t anything pressing on Arthur’s schedule for the day, and if the King ends up in a foul mood, no one will suffer because of it. With his heart in his throat, he makes his way to Arthur’s chambers, breakfast tray in hand. It only rattles a little in his slightly trembling hands.

   Pushing the door open, he peeks inside. Arthur is still fast asleep in bed, tufts of blond hair the only visible part of him above the blankets. With a fond roll of his eyes, Merlin settles the tray on the table, then moves to rip the curtains open.

   “Rise and shine!” He yells obnoxiously. A groan comes from the bed before slight movement brings Arthur’s face into view. He’s blinking blearily, and looks less than enthused about being awake already. Merlin just grins, trying to be as normal as possible, but he can see the exact moment that Arthur sees how fake his grin is. 

   Sitting up, the blankets pooling around his waist, Arthur asks, “Is everything okay, Merlin?”

   It’s the first sign of concern that Merlin has seen directed towards him for longer than he can even remember. That thought makes his chest squeeze a bit, but he pushes it aside. There were other, more important, things to worry about at the moment.

   “Actually, Sire, I wanted to talk to you.” He says, his voice losing its faux cheeriness and slipping into something more serious. Something flashes in Arthur’s eyes before he nods solemnly.

   “Of course. Has something happened?” He sounds genuine enough, but Merlin is wary. As soon as he broached the subject of his magic, Arthur’s good mood was likely to turn into something much more difficult to deal with.

   Gesturing to the table, Merlin replies, “Perhaps you would like breakfast first?”

   Arthur purses his lips. “Merlin, this is clearly something important to you. I can eat after. Now, what is it?”

   Now that the time was here, Merlin had no idea what to say, or how to start. It was such a delicate subject, he didn’t want to mess anything up. Chewing on his lower lip, he lets his eyes wander the room. For some reason, he found that he simply couldn’t look at Arthur. Not for too long, anyway.

   “Actually, it’s about my magic.” He starts slowly. Sometimes the best way to deal with something, was to just get right to the point. “I know it bothers you, I can see it on your face every time I use it. You haven’t really talked about it, and I figured you just needed time to adjust, but this dancing around it is hard for me. I realize that you have a lot of decisions to make, and that they’re not easy ones, but I need to know where we stand. Which way you’re leaning towards. I mean, if you’re going to try and kill me, I’d like fair warning so I can disappear first. Not that I think you would, it’s just, that’s what the law wants you to do, and I know how serious you are about upholding what you believe to be right in your kingdom. Following the law is obviously part of that.”

   He stops to breathe, and takes a moment to look Arthur over. He looks a little blank, a little like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights. He blinks a few times, his jaw slack, lips slightly parted. When it appears that he isn’t going to speak, Merlin tries to push onward. 

   “Look, I know how you feel about magic, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you watch me whenever I use it. I haven’t been able to really figure out why, yet, but I’ve seen you looking. I’ve tried to show you that magic is harmless, that it’s just a tool, like anything else.” He stops to swallow thickly again. “But maybe I need to show you something else. Can I show you something else?”

   Arthur nods mutely. When Merlin nods back, however, Arthur gets to his feet. He approaches him slowly, as if worried that Merlin will startle and run. The whole sight makes Merlin even more confused than he had been before. If Arthur was so disgusted by his magic, his reactions so far told of nothing else, then why try to handle him with such care now?

   “Before you do anything, Merlin, I want you to know that never once did I ever think about hurting you.” He comes to a stop when he’s about an arms length away. “Whatever you’ve been thinking, it’s wrong. You’re my friend, Merlin, and I would never seen anything awful happen to you. Do you understand?”

   Merlin nods shakily. Their sudden close proximity, the seriousness in Arthur’s eyes, his earnest words, they all have him a little on edge. His brain feels a little scrambled, and he desperately tries to clear it. Being anything less than focused usually meant disaster when it came to magic and casting spells. 

   “Right.” He replies, then adds, “Okay.”

   Shaking himself off, he closes his eyes and tries to focus. He can feel his magic coursing through his body, thrumming and alive and tingling under his skin. He breathes deeply and pulls on it, coaxing it to where he wants it. When he opens his eyes to look at Arthur, a spell forming in his head and already on its way to his mouth, he sees the King watching him intently. This early in the day, and so soon after waking, Arthur is still soft and pliant, and his usual stony mask is gone. Instead, Merlin can see the clear wonder on his face, the unbridled awe in his eyes. 

   The sight makes Merlin stumble over the words a bit as he speaks them, and he winces slightly. It wouldn’t be the first time he had messed up a spell, and he just readies himself to try again, expecting the incantation to fail. However, his magic seems to pick up on his emotional upheaval, and floods out of him. What was supposed to be a single flower conjured in his hands, ends up being a field of wildflowers springing up all around them, shooting up through the stone floors as if they were in a grassy meadow out past the city walls. He stares, a little red in the face, as Arthur surveys what’s become of his chambers. 

   “Merlin, that’s... quite lovely.” The King says, a little uncertain. Merlin flushes deeper.

   “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” He admits sheepishly. “Here, let me try again.”

   Once again, he cups his hands in front of his mouth, and tries to focus. He makes the mistake of glancing up at Arthur again, finding the King looking back at him, head tilted in curiosity. The boyish intensity in his eyes makes Merlin’s heart stutter, and when he casts the spell, he feels his magic leap to life a little too enthusiastically. With a wince, he opens his hands cautiously.

   A single blue butterfly appears in his hands, flying on silent wings up into the air. Merlin almost heaves a sigh of relief when another one appears and cuts it off. He watches with mounting horror as dozens of butterflies appears, swarming around the room until almost every surface in the King’s chambers has blue butterflies sitting on them, fluttering their delicate wings. There must be at least a hundred of them, if not more, by the time Merlin feels his magic settle.

   He looks around, redder than he had ever been in his life. The entire room smells of sweet flowers, and moves with the rippling of small wings. When he chances a look at Arthur, he promptly bursts out into slightly hysterical laughter.

   “I’m sorry.” He manages to get out. As he looks around, his magic almost purrs in his chest, and that’s when he realizes what had happened. The King’s openly eager attention had pleased his magic enough that it wanted to show off for him.

   “What exactly happened, Merlin?” Arthur asks, looking around with a twinkle in his eyes.

   Merlin swallows. “My magic, I think it might have a crush on you.” He admits bashfully. The King breaks out into delighted laughter at the words. When he finally calms enough to look at Merlin, he has a soft smile on his face. He slowly approaches, careful not to step on any of the butterflies which flutter into the air around him with each step. The sight looks almost ethereal to Merlin, and his breath catches in his throat.

   “Is it only your magic that has a crush on me?” He asks cheekily once he’s close enough to reach out and touch Merlin’s arm. Merlin winces slightly and ducks his head to look around the utter chaos of the room. Gentle fingers land on his chin, forcing him to look back at the King. “Merlin, you misunderstand the attention I’ve given your magic. It does not bother me, it fascinates me. Even when this happens.” He gestures to the room with a sweep of an arm, a chuckle passing his lips.

   “It is?” Merlin asks quietly, not daring to hope.

   “Yes, Merlin.” Arthur replies earnestly. “I have tried to... cover up how much I enjoy your magic, and that was wrong. I should’ve known that you’d notice my attention and take it in the wrong light.” He pauses for a moment. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, with nothing coming out, he lets go of Merlin’s arm and walks to the window. More butterflies erupt around him as he goes. Merlin watches with confusion as Arthur pushes the window open. 

   “The truth is, Merlin,” Arthur says, turning back to face Merlin, and holding out a hand, “that I find your magic quite beautiful. I find almost everything about you beautiful. I will admit that I was conflicted at first, and instead of sorting though that, and letting myself openly show you how I felt, I hid it. I shouldn’t have, and I promise that I won’t anymore.”

   He wiggles his fingers, silently telling Merlin to approach. Merlin does hesitantly, letting his hand come up to tangle with Arthur’s. His breath nearly leaves his lungs as Arthur pulls him closer. The King chuckles again, his eyes roaming around the room.

   “This is utter chaos, Merlin, and I love it just as much as I love you.” He says softly. Merlin blinks at the confession. The magic around them almost seems to shiver, the butterflies growing restless with Merlin’s pounding heart, the flowers seeming to blow in an invisible wind. 

   “You do?” He asks. Arthur nods, leaning closer to bump their noses together. Merlin huffs a relieved laugh, and surges forward, kissing his King with everything he has. There’s a whoosh around them, the nearly silent sound of hundreds of wings beating around them, and Merlin knows that it’s the butterflies all circling around them before disappearing out of the open window. He vaguely wonders if Arthur had planned, or expected, that to happen. 

   When he pulls back, the room is devoid of any and all traces of his wayward magic. Arthur grins at him, letting his hand slip off Merlin’s waist, to instead gently brush at Merlin’s cheekbone. Something inside Merlin settles at the contact. Arthur wasn’t disgusted by him, he didn’t want to see him executed or exiled. He had simply been overwhelmed by his emotions over something he had always been told to fear. He supposed that he could forgive that.

   “So, are you going to start treating my magic normally now, or are you going to continue to act weird about it?” He asks.

   Arthur huffs out a fond laugh. “If it continues to be as beautiful as it has so far, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to normal. However, I will refrain from acting so cavalier about it in future.”

   Merlin cheeks blush profusely. He wasn’t entirely convinced that, that was a much better option (considering what had just transpired), but it seemed like he wasn’t going to get anything better. When the King ducks in closer, stealing another languid kiss, he finds that he doesn’t much care after all. As long as Arthur kept kissing him like this, he could be as weirdly obsessed with his magic as he wanted to be. When Arthur pulls him closer, pressing their bodies flush together, he doesn’t just stop caring, he stops thinking at all.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from Lemon_Mist on AO3: In the episode Excalibur, there is a moment when Merlin is desperately trying to convince Arthur not to fight the knight and Arthur nearly hits Merlin with his sword. 

   Arthur is in his chambers, where he had gone, and stayed, after his father tried to make him back out of the fight he had challenged the black knight to. His father’s lack of faith in his abilities stings a bit. He was the best warrior in Camelot, everyone knew that. Why, then, was the King willing to sacrifice other knights, other men with people in their lives who love them and will miss them, instead of just letting Arthur defeat the mysterious knight once and for all? 

   In his frustration, he twirls his sword in his hand, lowering himself into a fighting stance to run through various drills that he does with the knights. He stops, however, when he notices movement from the corner of his eye. Looking up, sword stilling in the air, he sees Merlin approaching him. His irritation with his father is still bubbling insistently under his skin, and the sudden appearance of Merlin, which usually helps settle him, only serves to make him feel more on edge. He didn’t feel like dealing with his jumbled emotions regarding his servant at the moment.

   “Merlin, you know that conversation we had about knocking?” He drawls, lifting his eyes from the table, to study the other man.

   “You have to pull out.” Merlin replies, completely ignoring the Prince’s reprimand.

   “And why is that?” He asks, dropping his eyes back to the table. He had already had this conversation with his father, he really didn’t want to have it again. 

   Merlin response is immediate. “Because he’ll kill you.”

   Arthur’s irritation burns hotter in his chest. Did everyone in this kingdom think him incapable of defeating whoever this black knight was? Did they just offer him the title of best swordsmen because he was royalty? Did they not think he actually deserved it?

   “Why does everybody think that?” He can’t help but ask. He had hoped that at least Merlin would’ve had something resembling faith in him.

   “Because they’re right!” Merlin retorts. Arthur grits his teeth and looks away, eyes dropping back down to the table. If even the man he dared to call a real friend didn’t think he could win, then who would? After a moment, Merlin continues, “Just pull out. You’re the Crown Prince. No one wants to see you die over some stupid challenge.”

   As Merlin talks, Arthur lifts his sword, looking it over intently so as to avoid looking at the man beside him. He almost sounded worried, which ignited a small flicker of something in Arthur’s chest that he really wasn’t ready to acknowledge just yet. 

   Without looking at him, Arthur replies, “I’m not a coward.”

   “I know that!” Merlin argues, the words bursting out of him like he, too, is growing frustrated. This only serves to fray Arthur’s nerves further. “I’ve stood there and watched you overcome every fear you’ve ever faced.”

   “That’s what’s required of me.” Arthur replies, quickly becoming done with the conversation. He turns his back, focusing on the weight of the sword in his hands. If he could just tune Merlin and his arguments out, then perhaps he could even properly focus on the impending fight looming on the horizon.

   “But you’re more than that.” Merlin continues, much to Arthur’s mounting annoyance. “You’re not merely a warrior. You’re a prince, a future king! You’ve proved your courage, but you must prove your wisdom.”

   He tries to ignore him, he really does, but the part of him that always seems to be perfectly in tune with Merlin refuses to completely block him out. He holds his sword up at the ready, staring straight ahead of himself. He knows that Merlin only means well, that in his own weird way, he’s just trying to protect him. This does little to cool Arthur’s ever growing temper, however, and he just wishes that Merlin would back off.

   “I’m not backing down.” Arthur replies, teeth clenched and tight lipped. He twirls his sword, hoping the small movement will help release some of his pent-up energy. 

   “Please, Arthur, listen to me. This is no ordinary knight.” Merlin begs, and Arthur finds that intriguing. He’s never heard Merlin beg for anything before. Before he can ruminate on it too much, however, Merlin continues. “Look at him. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, he just... stands there.”

   By this point, Merlin has left his side and walked over to the window, peering down at the knight below. Arthur knows that the man is just standing there. He had watched him earlier, after first arriving to his chambers, and it was indeed odd. Most men preparing for battle would be practicing their skills, or perhaps eating a healthy meal, getting some sleep. This man, was doing none of those things. He was standing there in the dark, not moving, despite the slight chill to the air that evening.

   Arthur does his best to continue to futilely ignore Merlin. He turns away, so his back is facing the man as he swipes his sword through the air a few times, stepping forward as he thrusts the blade into an invisible enemy. The movement feels natural, as all battle drills did now. He, at least, was confident in his skills enough to know that he stood a very good chance of winning. Only a fool would think they would win without a challenge, though, and Arthur was no fool.

   “In complete silence.” Merlin adds, a little softer, from the window. Arthur can feel Merlin’s eyes on his back, but refuses to turn and look at him. Instead, he swipes his sword through the air a few more times, cutting down imaginary foes, before once again thrusting his sword forwards. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

   He brushes him off with an uncaring, “No one is unbeatable.”

   “If you fight him, you will die.” Merlin replies, voice firm and unaffected by Arthur’s verbal brush off. A small voice in his head tells him to think about Valiant, how Merlin had warned him of the same thing back then. Hadn’t he been right that time?

   Arthur decides he’s had enough of Merlin’s worrying and incessant talking. “I’m not listening to this.” He turns around to face the wall, sees Merlin at the window from the corner of his eye. The other man is practically vibrating with frustrated energy. Arthur knows exactly how he feels. His hurt at no one believing in him, his irritation at people constantly telling him what to do, his anger at the mysterious knight who had slain two of his men, all starts to become too much. They’re all pulsing too strongly through his body with every beat of his heart, and he just wants Merlin gone. 

   “I’m trying to warn you, Arthur.” Merlin says firmly, leaving the window to once again approach Arthur’s side. His riled up emotions quickly bubble over, and Arthur loses his flimsy grip on his temper. 

   “And I’m trying to warn you, Merlin!” He retorts, spinning around the face the other man. Without his meaning to, his sword comes up with him, stopping just shy of Merlin’s shoulder. He watches as Merlin flinches back, staring back at him for a moment in shock. There’s a flicker of betrayal there as well, then barely concealed anger. He clenches his jaw, looks like he might say something for a split second, then shakes his head and takes a step back. That’s all it takes for Arthur’s temper to cool somewhat, and his guilt to rush to the surface.

   Before he can utter a word, Merlin is turning around and walking away. He watches him go, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and preventing him from calling out to him. He wants to tell Merlin to stop, to wait, that he’s sorry. He didn’t mean to threaten him, he had just wanted Merlin to stop. He understands worry, and fear, and wanting the ones he cares about to remain safe. He knows that Merlin’s words are coming from a place of friendship, not from a total lack of faith in him and his skills. That doesn’t lessen the sting of them, however. 

   As soon as Merlin is gone, the doors of his chambers falling closed with a resolute click, Arthur drops his sword on the table, and moves to rest his hands on the wood. He leans heavily against the edge, letting his head fall forward, chin practically resting on his chest. He knew he could be an arse where Merlin was concerned, but this felt like a whole new low. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to properly apologize to him.

   He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually he moves to the window. Just as before, the knight is standing there. He hasn’t changed positions since Arthur last saw him. Something cold trickles down his spine, and he lets himself ponder over Merlin’s words. Maybe he had been right. Maybe there was something different about this knight. Arthur wasn’t able to say what, exactly, but there was something there. 

   He’s staring out the window when he hears the doors to his chambers open quietly. He internally perks up, hoping it’s Merlin come back to continue his argument against Arthur fighting tomorrow. He wants a chance to try and apologize. Saying sorry for anything has never been one of Arthur’s strong points, but for Merlin he’s willing to try. His hope deflates pretty quickly when it’s not Merlin, but Morgana that appears next to him.

   “Arthur?” She asks softly. Arthur sighs softly. Did he really need this conversation for the third time in a row?

   “Yes, Morgana?” He replies, trying to be as polite as possible.

   “I’ve just seen Merlin, and I— I don’t know what happened between you two, but he’s quite upset. Perhaps you should go speak with him?” She says hesitantly. Arthur pushes away from the window, ripping his gaze away from the unmoving knight below, and looks at the woman properly.

   “Excuse me?” He asks. He can’t really help himself. After all, this was not at all what he had been expecting when she showed up in his chambers this late. He had been expecting another plea to not fight, to back out of the challenge. She had begged him to interfere before, had watched the black knight slay two knights of Camelot. Why change her tune now?

   Morgana huffs slightly. “Look, Arthur, I know you have a lot of stress on you right now, and I’m not faulting you for potentially losing your temper, but you need to talk to him. He’s good for you, and I don’t want to see you throwing all that away for no reason.”

   Arthur stares blankly at her for a moment. “You mean you’re only here for Merlin? You’re not here to try to talk me out of fighting?”

   “I know a lost cause when I see one. I also know you’re too hardheaded to listen to reason at the best of times.” She stops for a moment to take a deep breath. “Just, go find him, and fix whatever it is you broke. Please.”

   Saying what she had come to say, she turns and starts to walk away. She pauses by the door, looking over her shoulder. “For the record, I don’t want you to fight. We may be at each other’s throats half the time, but that does not mean I wish to see you hurt, and certainly never dead.”

   Alone again, Arthur suddenly feels conflicted. Stay here and rest for the fight, as he should, or go find Merlin? In the end, his moving feet make the decision for him. He is at the door before he’s even really realized that he’s made a decision, and fully out the door a moment later. If what Merlin said was true, if this fight tomorrow was to be his last, he didn’t want his last conversation with Merlin to be an argument. He didn’t want Merlin’s last memory of him to be him threatening him with a blade.

   The stone hall is mostly dark and deserted, only a few interspersed torches, casting small circles of flickering light, set here and there in the wall. The guards usually stationed outside his chamber doors at night are not yet there, which Arthur is thankful for. If he had tried to sneak out with them present, there would have been awkward questions, and his father would most certainly be informed.

   Naturally, Arthur goes to Gaius’s quarters first. Surely if Merlin was anywhere at this time of night, it would be with his guardian, at home. However, when he knocks politely on the door, and enters a moment later, it’s only Gaius visible in the room. Arthur glances at the closed door in the back surreptitiously, before looking at Gaius intently.

   “Sire, is there something I can help you with?” Gaius asks politely, looking up from the book spread out across his worktable.

   “I’ve come to see Merlin.” He announces. Gaius merely raises an eyebrow.

   “I’m afraid that Merlin isn’t here.” The physician replies. Arthur frowns. Where else could he possibly be?

   “Do you happen to know where I could find him?” He asks. He watches as Gaius’s eyes shift away for a moment. Arthur gets the distinct feeling that the man knows very well where Merlin is, but doesn’t want to say. Either because Merlin asked him not to, or perhaps because Merlin himself doesn’t know that Gaius is aware of his whereabouts, and the physician wants to keep it that way for now. “Please, Gaius. I need to speak with him.”

   His softer tone seems to do the trick, because the physician sighs. “I believe he went to the library to find a way to defeat that which is already dead.”

   Arthur screws his nose up in confusion. “If something is already dead, why would it need killing again?”

   “That is surely a question better brought up with Merlin.” Gaius replies. He was keeping something from the Prince, Arthur could tell, but he wasn’t overly worried about it at the moment.

   Nodding, Arthur turns to head to the door. “The library. Thanks, Gaius!”

   The physician replies with something, but Arthur doesn’t hear what he says. He’s already moving out the door and down the halls leading towards the library. However, when he gets there, it’s only old Geoffrey, and he doesn’t look particularly happy about seeing Arthur at such a late hour.

   “I’m only here for Merlin. Gaius told me he was here.” He says, holding his hands up placatingly. The old man just frowns and shakes his head. 

   “I’m sorry, Sire, but he left not five minutes ago.” The man’s reply makes Arthur deflate a little more. If Merlin wasn’t here anymore, then where else could be possibly be? Morgana had said she had seen him, presumably even talked to him, so he had to be around. Surely the woman wouldn’t have sent him on a wild goose chase for nothing.

   “Right. Thanks.” He turns on his heel, and heads for the main castle doors. If he wasn’t anywhere in the castle, which Arthur wasn’t entirely even sure was the case, then maybe he was outside. He passes a few guards on his quick journey to the large wooden doors, brushing off questions and concerns as he goes. He doesn’t even really stop to breathe until he’s bursting out into the night chill. His eyes flit around the dark square, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar figure coming in from the direction of the town.

   Arthur jogs down the steps, heading to meet Merlin. When he gets closer, Merlin recognizes him and stops. He looks awfully wary of the Prince, and it makes Arthur’s heart twinge painfully in his chest. 

   “Merlin.” He says. Now that he was here, in a situation where he could apologize for how he had behaved earlier, he wasn’t really sure where to start. 

   “What? Come to yell at me some more for only trying to save your life?” Merlin asks. He sounds defensive, and normally Arthur would reprimand him for his tone, but this time he lets it slide.

   The Prince shakes his head. “No, of course not. I— what are you carrying that around for?” He interrupts as he notices the distinctly sword shaped bundle in Merlin’s hand.

   “Oh this?” Merlin says, eyes shifting away a bit. “It’s a, uh, sword.”

   Arthur holds back an amused grin. “Yes, I can see that. That didn’t answer my question. What do you have it for?”

   Merlin heaves a sigh. “Fine, you already know about my magic, so you may as well know about this.” He pauses and squares his shoulders, looking up to meet Arthur’s eyes defiantly. “The knight isn’t an ordinary knight. He’s a wraith, sent here for revenge. This sword needs to be turned into a blade that kill the dead.”

   The Prince’s head spins slightly. Merlin was doing all that for him? That went way beyond his duties as a servant. It went way beyond any loyalty Arthur had ever encountered from his people before. The pesky feelings he was always pushing away rush to the surface, nearly choking him.

   “Why?” He asks. Not consciously. It just kind of slips out before his brain can stop it.

   Merlin’s face softens as he replies, “Because even though you’re a massive arse, I care about you. You’re my... friend, and I don’t want to see you die. Not when I can do something to save you.”

   The Prince catches the way Merlin stumbles over the word friend, the way he pauses before saying it, almost like he was about to say something else instead, and only just caught himself in time. His heart flutters with hope in his chest, a sensation wholly new to Arthur. He had never felt anything like it before in his life. He blames this for his next actions. 

   Instead of verbally replying, he steps forward, slides a hand along Merlin’s jaw, and tips his head up slightly as he leans in and kisses him slowly. He expects Merlin to pull away, to push him away, to yell and curse at him. He doesn’t do any of those things. No, he kisses the Prince back, eagerly. This enthusiasm makes Arthur groan softly against his mouth, his stomach squirming in the most peculiarly pleasant way. 

   Pulling back, Arthur says quietly, “I’m sorry, Merlin, for how I treated you before. I hope you know that I would never actually hurt you.”

   Merlin nods slightly, making Arthur’s hand, still on his jaw, slide over his warm skin. “I know. I forgive you. Thank you, I guess. For apologizing. I wasn’t expecting you to.”

   The words feel like a punch to Arthur’s gut. Merlin hadn’t been expecting him to apologize. He winces slightly, vowing to himself to try to keep a better handle on his temper in future. 

   “Now. The sword.” He says, making Merlin chuckle.

   “Do you trust me?” Merlin counters.

   The Prince scoffs. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

   A grin spreads over Merlin’s face, making Arthur feel decidedly uneasy. “If I introduce you to someone, do you promise not to freak out?”

   “Depends on who it is.” The Prince replies, even more wary. Merlin just chuckles, stepping back and taking Arthur’s hand in his right, shifting the sword to his left instead. 

   “Come on. I’ll bring you to the one who’s been helping me keep you alive ever since I got here.” Arthur stumbles along beside Merlin for a moment, more in shock about the events of the past couple minutes than anything else. He had kissed Merlin, successfully apologized, and was now going to meet one of Merlin’s friend. He honestly didn’t know Merlin even had any friends, other than himself and Gwen. Maybe perhaps even Morgana. 

   Little did the Prince know, that he was about to meet the Great Dragon his father always liked to boast about. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from dyingbetweenthepages on Tumblr: That episode in which Arthur is enchanted to fall in love with an arrogant blonde princess, except Merlin is the true love’s kiss that snaps Arthur out of it. Maybe Merlin goes for Gwen’s help first, but it either doesn’t work or Gwen says, “I’m not sure MY kiss would help.”

   The peace talks being held in Camelot had been in the works for quite a while. Arthur had spoken of little else for the week leading up to the arrival of all the Kings and Lords in the city. Merlin was well aware that he had to be on his best behaviour at all times, to which he had rolled his eyes and assured Arthur that he was always on his best behaviour. This had earned him a pillow thrown rather aggressively in his general direction. He knew Arthur was just stressed, that his father was putting more responsibility on his shoulders this time around, and he desperately wanted to prove himself to be the man his father wanted him to be.

   The arrival of their guests caused quite a stir in the city, citizens of all ages lining the streets to watch the processions pass by. There were excited whispers and murmured rumours amongst the people, but the passing nobles paid them no mind. They made their way stoically to the castle itself, where the Royal family was waiting for them. Of course, Uther was out front and centre, being the King. Off to one side was Arthur. Merlin had positioned himself right behind his Prince, instead of with the other servants. Uther had given him a glare when he had dared to be seen, but Arthur was the one thing Merlin was most stubborn about. He refused to leave Arthur alone when he knew his friend needed him.

   The usual greetings are passed around as each party from each kingdom dismounts and organizes their entourage. Arthur has his usual courtly smile plastered on his face, but Merlin can see the stress hidden in his eyes. He gently brushes his fingers over Arthur’s elbow when no one is looking in their direction, hoping to convey his reassurances that the Prince would be fine. He’s rewarded with some of the tension leaving Arthur’s shoulders. Not a lot, but some, and that was enough for Merlin.

   “King Olaf!” Uther greets cordially, clasping hands with the man in question. The other man smiles back.

   “King Uther. I trust you have been well?” The man replies. Uther nods with a grin.

   “Yes, yes. As you have, I’m sure.” Letting go of the other man’s hand, Uther steps back and gestures to Arthur at his side. “You remember my son, Arthur?”

   King Olaf steps forward, clasping Arthur’s arm in much the same way he had Uther’s. “Of course. You have grown into a fine young man.”

   Arthur smiles politely, if not a little uncomfortably. Before anyone can say anything else, Olaf steps back with a polite smile. Merlin tilts his head as he watches him approach a young, blonde woman astride a beautiful horse. Olaf holds up his hands, helping the woman down. She smiles at him, before turning to face everyone else, and all pleasantness slips from her face like water off oil.

   “My daughter, Vivian.” He introduces. The woman, Vivian, wrinkles her nose as Arthur bows his head slightly in respect. Merlin immediately feels defensive. No one disrespected Arthur like that. Well, no one except himself. 

   “Pleasure to meet you, m’lady.” Arthur greets, politely enough, but still very much tense.

   “I’m sure it is.” The woman says, clearly brushing the Prince off. “Father, I wish to go to my chambers.”

   Her father nods agreeably. “Of course. We are all tired, and I’m sure we have some lovely chambers waiting for us.”

   Uther nods, silently waving. Servants appear seemingly out of nowhere, keeping their heads down as they mutely beckon various nobles to follow them. Gwen ends up approaching the Lady Vivian, shooting Merlin a discreet look that seemed to scream, ‘Help me!’ Merlin winces in sympathy, unable to do much else. The Lady looks Gwen over, then curls her lips slightly. Arthur and Merlin watch almost incredulously as they pass by and enter the castle. 

   “Well, she seems like a handful.” Merlin says quietly, so only the Prince will hear.

   Arthur scoffs. “That’s an understatement, Merlin. The King is extremely protective of his precious daughter. Won’t let any men near her. It’s rumoured that the last one to try ended up run straight through.”

   Merlin wrinkles his nose. In his opinion, the Lady Vivian is vile. He guesses that he can kind of see why some men would find her beautiful. However, her deplorable personality negated any physical attraction that he may have otherwise had. He truly feels sorry for Gwen, having to put up with the woman for the duration of her stay in Camelot. He, himself, had his hands full with Arthur. The Prince was always a little more testy when important matters of court were in occurrence, and this time was surely to be no different. However, even Arthur at his worst was more manageable than the behaviour he had just witnessed displayed by the Lady.

   “Right, well, we best keep you away from her then.” He jests. Arthur gives him an unimpressed look, making Merlin blush. He was well aware of the fact that he and the Prince had been toeing a very fine line lately. He knew about all the long looks, the lingering touches, the soft smiles. Neither one had so far dared to cross that line yet, though, and Merlin wondered if either of them ever would. He wanted to, surely, but he couldn’t help but let fear hold him back. What if he was wrong, and Arthur didn’t actually want him in the same way that he wanted Arthur?

   “That really won’t be an issue, Merlin.” Arthur says, sounding decidedly bored already. “I will have my hands full all week.”

   Merlin sneaks a look at the King, currently greeting Bayard. His stomach curls a bit. He hated how much the King put on Arthur’s shoulders. Yes, his son was his heir, and was to be the future king of Camelot, but he still seemed so young. Looking back beside him at Arthur, he studies him as intently as he can get away with in public. Out here, where he had an image to uphold, Arthur looked every bit the Crown Prince of Camelot. He held himself regally, standing tall and confident. He looked sure of himself. He realizes then that he may very well be the only one who has ever seen Arthur vulnerable, seen him sitting by the fire late at night, loose and pliant with wine. No one else has probably ever seen the boyish gleam Arthur gets in his eyes when he talks about something he’s truly passionate about. He always has to hide those sides of himself around his people. To show emotion of any kind, was to show weakness. That’s what he always told Merlin, but Merlin knew those were not Arthur’s words. They were his father’s.

   “Come on, Merlin.” Arthur tugs on his jacket sleeve impatiently, like he had already tried to get Merlin’s attention at least a few times. “We have a banquet to prepare for.”

~~~

   The morning after the banquet, finds Merlin in Arthur’s chambers on time, waking him early so the Prince can properly attend the peace talks. He’s rather surprised when Arthur jumps out of bed almost eagerly. He hadn’t gotten the impression from his friend that he had been exactly looking forward to these talks. He had been stressed, grouchy, and much more abrasive than usual. Seeing him so cheery eyed this morning confuses Merlin. Not that he’s going to complain. He’d much rather put up with this than the alternative. Meaning Arthur venting and ranting to him every evening, because apparently if he had to be miserable all day, then Merlin could he miserable all night. 

   “Merlin, I need your help.” Arthur says suddenly while Merlin is straightening out his tunic. Merlin hums, briefly glancing up at Arthur’s face before looking back down at what he’s doing. The Prince had to look his best for the next week, and that was Merlin’s job. Arthur’s next words make him stop fiddling, however. “I need your help to woo.”

   Wrinkling his nose in confusion, Merlin asks, “To woo? What on earth are you talking about?”

   “Yes, Merlin. To woo.” Arthur replies. “You know, impress someone. Offer my hand in courtship. That kind of thing. Honestly, Merlin, you do know how to woo, don’t you? That’s pathetically sad if you don’t.”

   “Of course I—” Merlin starts to reply, then stops, takes a deep breath. “Why do you need advice on how to woo someone, Sire?” He asks the question innocently, but his blood has started buzzing. Was Arthur finally ready to stop circling one another tentatively? Was he finally ready to cross that already blurred line, and just put Merlin out of his misery?

   “Because, honestly, I see myself as more of a man of action, a warrior. You, on the other hand, seem much more in tune with your feminine side. Therefore, you are the one who clearly has the answers I seek.” Arthur replies breezily. Merlin blinks in mild surprise. 

   “Right.” He says slowly, not entirely sure what was happening. Why on earth was Arthur asking him on how best to woo... him? “Well, that depends on who you want to woo, I suppose.”

   Arthur’s eyes widen, like Merlin’s just spoken something divinely insightful. He snaps his fingers, nodding his head enthusiastically. The next words out of his mouth, however, give Merlin an uneasy feeling.

   “Yes, Merlin, you’re right. Now, I just need to figure out what they like.”

   Merlin’s eyebrows crease together. “Sire, who exactly are you trying to woo?”

   The Prince looks at him like he’s a little slow. “Why, my love, of course.”

   “Of course.” Merlin replies with a smile. When Arthur gives no more information, he prompts, “And that would be?”

   “The Lady Vivian. Merlin, where have you been?” Arthur replies, confused. He turns away from Merlin’s stunned face, rambling on about pretty things he could get the blonde lady. Merlin tunes it all out as he feels a sudden wave of cold wash over him. His heart felt like it was cracking into little pieces inside his chest, and his lungs felt like they were constricting.

   “Merlin!” Arthur’s snapping fingers in his face pull Merlin forcefully back to the present. “What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be helping me. What do you know about flowers?”

   “Uhm, a bit. Yeah, a little. I’m sure I could, uhm, find something suitable for you to give your lady.” His voice sounds choked and hoarse. He barely even recognizes it as himself. 

   “Good. See that you do, and deliver them as soon as you have them. I need my lady to know of my affections.” He claps Merlin on he shoulder, like the friend he apparently only is, then strides from the room without a backwards glance. The door closes with a dull, resounding thud. 

   It breaks Merlin’s trance, and he tries to take a shaky breath. When the attempt fails, he stumbles blindly toward the table and leans heavily on the edge, desperately trying to get a handle on his roiling emotions. There’s tears stinging at the backs of his eyes, and he tries to force them aside. How could he have been so wrong? How could he have read every one of the signs incorrectly? 

   After a few painful moments, he slowly pushes away. Scrubbing at his face, he takes another deep breath. He had work to do, and there was no point in stalling the inevitable. If Arthur found out that his flowers had not been delivered, as per his request, Merlin knew that there would be hell to pay later. After all, he was Arthur’s servant, nothing more. He was required to do whatever the Prince told him to, and nothing else.

~~~

   The flowers are a bust. So is the dinner that Arthur unceremoniously steals from Gwen and tries to hand off to Vivian himself. Merlin suffers through comforting a confused and bemoaning Prince Arthur all evening, and well into the night. It sets his teeth on edge, only making things worse when he has to assure the man that he is wonderful, and his love is blind not to see it. The truth of the words stings his tongue, and pricks at his eyes again. He swallows his emotions back, however. Now is not the time. 

   He lies in bed that night, heavily confused, and even more heavily heartbroken. He had been foolish to ever think that Arthur would ever feel anything strongly for him. Still, that ill flamed hope had been there, and having it snuffed out left him feeling empty inside. He also couldn’t help but wonder why Arthur was behaving the way he was. His previous thoughts on King Olaf’s daughter had been that she was trouble. Trouble that was not to be looked at, let alone touched. Why suddenly change his mind? Unless he had been hiding his true feelings and intentions from Merlin in an attempt to keep Merlin from preventing him from courting the woman. As Merlin surely would have done. What a rotten time to try and find love.

   His suspicions arise the next morning, when Vivian’s previous attitude towards Arthur switches to that of eager reciprocation. It’s he who stumbles upon them in Arthur’s chambers. He’s running a little late due to his wish to just stay in bed and not face Arthur’s love for someone else again, and therefore doesn’t bother to knock to announce his arrival. His feet grind to a halt when he sees them, passionately lip locked on the Prince’s grand bed. The sight makes bile rise in his throat, and he knows he needs to break them apart, needs to get the woman out of Arthur’s chambers, but he’s frozen. He can’t do anything but stand there and watch the man he has unfortunately gone and fallen in love with, kissing someone else.

   The pair break apart when there’s a commotion in the hall outside, followed by the doors banging open. Merlin flinches, scrambling out of the way as several people storm into the room. He recognizes the outraged yells as King Olaf’s, but he can’t make out words. He can barely make out the people currently in the room. His ears are ringing, and his vision is blurry with unshed tears. This couldn’t be happening. 

   He snaps back to full attention, however, when Olaf pulls off a leather glove in outrage and throws it aggressively onto the floor at Arthur’s feet. Arthur stares at it for a moment, arm still snugly around Vivian’s slim waist. Merlin feels like the world slips into slow motion as Arthur stoops to pick the glove up. His stomach curls unhappily and he looks away. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots King Alined and his jester, both watching the proceedings with joy on their faces. That particular emotion had no place being here in this situation, and his magic tingles warningly under his skin. 

   Waiting behind as Uther grabs Arthur’s arm and hauls him angrily from the room, Olaf escorting his daughter out, Merlin decides to look around Arthur’s rooms. Something about the glee on the jester’s face makes Merlin even more suspicious. Crossing the floor to the bed, Merlin starts pulling the blankets and soft sheets back, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Finally, in the midst of pulling the pillows off and tossing them on the floor, he finds a lock of hair. It was blonde, yes, but he knew immediately that it wasn’t Arthur’s. The golden shade was off. It could only belong to one person.

   Running from the room, Merlin goes in search of Gwen. He finds her in Vivian’s guest chambers. She looks up as he enters, giving him a confused look. 

   “What’s happening, Merlin? I heard that Olaf apparently challenged Arthur? I wanted to find out more, but Morgana warned me to stay out of it.” She says.

   “I don’t have time, Gwen, I’m sorry. I need you to do something for me.” At Gwen’s nod, he continues. “Look through that bed and see if there’s a lock of Arthur’s hair hidden somewhere. When you’re done, come find me in Gaius’s chambers!”

   Running from the room, trusting Gwen to do as he asked, Merlin runs through the stone halls back to his little home with his guardian. He’s praying that Gaius is still there, and not wherever Uther is not doubt verbally laying into his son. Bursting into the room, he nearly drops to his knees in relief when he sees the man, packed bag on his shoulder and apparently preparing to leave.

   “Merlin?” Gaius says, tone slightly chastising.

   “Arthur’s behaviour, it’s not what you think!” He breathlessly replies. “I believe he’s been enchanted to love Vivian. The jester from King Alined’s court, he’s done it, I’m sure of it.”

   There’s silence for a moment before Gaius sets his bag down. “If you’re right, Merlin, we have a big problem.” 

   “We have many big problems at the moment, Gaius. Which one are you referring to?” Merlin asks, even more dread already filling his chest and weighing him down.

   “If Arthur is under a love enchantment, we need to know which one it is before we can find the cure.” Giaus’s words have Merlin looking over the numerous books lining the shelves in dismay.

   “We don’t have time for that. The challenge has been set, there’s no backing down. They’re probably out there readying things as we speak.” Merlin says.

   Footsteps approach the door, and Merlin glances over just in time to see Gwen come running in. “I found it, Merlin! It’s right here!”

   She skids to a stop beside him, holding out a lock of what is undoubtably Arthur’s hair. Merlin pulls the lock of Vivian’s out and lays them side by side on his hand. Looking up at his mentor, he finds Gaius studying the strands thoughtfully. A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, the man was already familiar with a enchantment that required locks of hair from each party.

   “Please tell me you have something.” Merlin practically begs.

   Nodding, Gaius takes the hair from Merlin’s palm. “I think I know where to look. You two had better get down to the tournament grounds. Merlin, you had better bring Arthur’s armour with you. Finding the cure to this spell could take a bit, and Arthur may very well need it.”

   Nodding, Merlin turns to leave. Gwen stops him outside in the hall. He looks at her, confused and expectant, but she just gives him a sad smile. He tries to smile back, but finds that he can’t. Without a word, he turns and heads back to Arthur’s chambers where the Prince’s armour is kept. Being kept there prevented anyone from ever trying to tamper with it. Once he has the armour laden in his arms, he makes his way back through the castle to the doors, his heart in this throat. Gaius had to find something, and quickly.

~~~

   They’ve gone two rounds, both of which Arthur has lost. Spectacularly. He’s not focusing, that much Merlin can tell. Whatever enchantment was scrambling his brains was clearly reducing his fighting ability. He was losing, and if they didn’t do something quick, his ineptitude may very well get him killed.

   “Merlin.” Gaius’s voice makes Merlin look up from where he was standing watch outside of Arthur’s tent. The Prince was inside, resting before the next round with King Olaf was to take place. 

   “Oh, thank the gods, please tell me you have something.” Merlin replies. 

   Gaius purses his lips for a moment before saying, “Yes, but you’re not like it. It’s true love’s kiss. That, and only that, will break Arthur out of whatever state he’s been put into.”

   Merlin’s stomach falls to his boots. True love’s kiss? How was he supposed to know who the Prince loved? He remembers the kiss that Arthur and Gwen had shared after his brief stay with her, back when he had hidden his identity to take part in a jousting tournament. He also remembers Arthur telling him about it after, how it had felt like he imagined kissing a sibling would be like. Like what kissing Morgana would feel like. Gwen had agreed with him, thankfully,  and they had become quite good friends ever since. It wasn’t ideal, but it may be the only chance he’s got.

   “Right. Can you stay here and keep an eye on him? Make sure he doesn’t leave, and no one enters. I’ll be right back.” Merlin replies, trying to keep his tone firm and unaffected. He can hear the pain lacing his tone, though, and he knows that Gaius can as well. The man nods, taking his place as Merlin heads off in search of his friend. 

   When he finally spots her standing behind Morgana, who’s sitting next to Uther, he frantically waves to get her attention. When she looks up, he beckons her over. Nodding, she leans closer to Morgana to whisper something in the Lady’s ear. Morgana nods, waving her off, and Gwen gets to his feet and disappears into the crowd. Merlin waits, body buzzing with pent-up energy.

   Finally, she appears beside him, asking, “What is it, Merlin?”

   Gripping her elbow, he says, “Come with me.”

   They make their way back to the Prince’s tent as quickly as possible. When Gaius sees them approaching, he nods and moves off. Merlin’s grateful for the action, really not wanting the man around for this next part. It was painful enough that he was aware of Merlin’s misplaced affections. It would be even worse if he was around for Gwen’s kiss setting Arthur right. The Prince was always hopeless when it came to anything regarding accepting his feelings for someone, so Merlin resignedly hoped that he had been initially wrong about Gwen, and that Gwen was his true love. He could handle it being his friend.

   “I need you to kiss him. True love’s kiss is the only way to break the enchantment.” Merlin says, pulling Gwen inside. Arthur is sitting right where Merlin had left him, leaning back in his chair and staring rather forlornly up at the tent roof. 

   “What? Why me?” Gwen asks, giving Merlin a rather significant look. A look that speaks of her own knowledge of Merlin’s feelings for the Prince. Merlin closes his eyes and swallows.

   “Because it needs to be somebody, and I’d be okay with it being you.” He replies softly, tensely. When he dares to open his eyes again, Gwen’s facial expression has softened with understanding. She lays a hand on his arm and gives a reassuring squeeze.

   “Are you sure it’s my kiss he needs?” She asks softly, not daring to speak too loud, in case someone were to walk by. Merlin’s heart launches up into his throat and threatens to choke him.

   “Please, Gwen.” Is all he manages to get out. She sighs softly, but nods her head. Merlin watches with watery eyes and bated breath as she approaches the Prince. He tunes out whatever brief conversation they have, heart clenching slightly as Gwen leans closer to quickly kiss the Prince solidly on the mouth. Arthur doesn’t react, except to pull away and ask the girl what on earth she thought she was doing.

   After an apology and a curtesy, Gwen turns to go. As she passes Merlin, standing by the tent entrance, she says, “We both know who Arthur really needs right now.”

   Silence follows Gwen’s departure, broken only when Arthur announces, “Merlin, I believe I’m needed back in the arena.” He gets to his feet, looking for all the world like the golden Prince he is, and Merlin’s heart stutters. 

   “Yeah, just one thing first.” He approaches Arthur, appearing much more confident than he actually feels. Heart threatening to beat right out of his chest, he stops in front of the Prince, who looks back at him curiously. After a deep breath, Merlin lifts his hand to settle on both sides of Arthur’s jaw, keeping him steady as he slowly leans. 

   A delighted shiver runs down Merlin’s spine as their lips meets. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, Arthur’s hands reach up to settle on his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses him back. Merlin inhales sharply through his nose as he feels Arthur return the embrace, and from there, the kiss turns slightly desperate. After all, Merlin may never get this chance again. He wants to always remember what kissing the love of his life feels like.

   Arthur pulls away first, gasping in pain as he lets go of Merlin’s waist to settle a hand over his ribs. “Merlin? What is going on? Oh gods, why do I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of horses?”

   “You’re in a fight with King Olaf over his daughter, and you’re losing. I don’t have time to explain, you’re already overdue in the arena.” Merlin replies in a rush. Now that Arthur was cured, he felt the need to escape. True, he desperately wanted to remain here with the Prince, in this little bubble they had found themselves in, but reality was calling. 

   Arthur scrutinizes him for a moment before taking one of his hands into his own. “We will talk later, Merlin. I promise.”

   Merlin watches him leave the tent, and closes his eyes. He takes a few shaky breaths, trying to control the swells of emotions rising and falling in his chest. He feels short of breath, chest too small, and heart whirling. They would talk later? Merlin honestly wasn’t sure that he wanted to have that talk. It had the potential to go either way, but Merlin feared he could walk away from it even more battered and bruised than he already was. 

~~~

   Arthur diplomatically ends the next fight, and therefore ending the challenge. He promises King Olaf to never again put hands on his daughter, and scurries off to find Merlin. Despite Arthur’s words beforehand, Merlin pulls his armour off, then immediately looks for an excuse to leave. He gets one in the form of Uther, demanding to talk with Arthur in his chambers. Head down, Arthur follows after him, very reminiscent of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. Merlin knows he should go to Arthur’s chambers and wait for him. He knows that the Prince will likely need his support after his father is finished with him, but he just can’t do it.

   He avoids returning to Arthur’s side until it’s late, and he’s already overdue to bring dinner. Without knocking, he pushes the doors open, gaining Arthur’s attention as he enters the room. He silently places the tray on the table, rearranging the dishes until they’re more spread out. Stepping back, he clasps his hands behind his back, and slightly lowers his head.

   “Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, “I promised a talk later.”

   Merlin looks up to catch Arthur eye. “I know. My apologies, Sire. Gaius needed my assistance with something important that came up.”

   A vague wave of Arthur’s hand brushes off Merlin’s apology. “No matter. We can talk now.” 

   “It’s really not necessary, Sire. You were under an enchantment. You didn’t know what you were doing.” Merlin says. Arthur’s eyes widen for a moment, and it occurs to Merlin then that no one had told Arthur exactly what had happened. Of course they didn’t, because only he, Gaius, and Gwen really knew the truth.

   “Well, besides the obvious conversation we need to have about that, I still feel as though I should apologize. I know it couldn’t have been easy to watch me be with Her like that.” Arthur replies. Merlin shakes his head.

   “No, really, it’s fine.” He argues weakly. Arthur looks at him, like he can see inside Merlin’s head, and knows for a fact that it is not fine. It never was. He slowly approaches him, stopping right in front of him, toe to toe, and eye to eye. Reaching up, he slides his palms over Merlin’s lower jaw.

   “Merlin.” He says, almost fondly, as he smooths his thumbs over Merlin’s cheekbones. Much softer, he repeats, “Merlin.”

   Leaning closer, Arthur brushes his lips over Merlin’s once, twice, before pressing closer and kissing him properly. It’s gentle and slow and sets Merlin’s head spinning. The Prince pulls away slightly, only to press back in and lay two more small, chaste kisses on his mouth.

   Pulling back again, he meets Merlin’s dazed eyes as he says, “You are the only one I feel anything for, Merlin, and I feel everything for you.”

   Deciding that, that was as close to an ‘I love you’ as he was going to get at the moment, Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist, sinking into his warm chest and pressing his nose into his neck. Arthur shifts his arms to holds him back, letting one hand gently run up and down the length of Merlin’s back. 

   “Are we okay?” Arthur asks quietly in Merlin’s ear. 

   Merlin nods against his shoulder. “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re better than okay.”

   Arthur hugs his tighter, pulling him impossibly closer. “Good.” He breathes. “Stay here tonight. Not for... that, I just— after what’s happened, I don’t really want you to leave yet.”

   Taking a step back, but not letting go of his grip on the Prince, Merlin meets his eyes and smiles softly. He doesn’t reply verbally, just nods his head. He’d love to stay here with his Prince, his love, his everything. His heart flutters madly as Arthur smiles back, large and happy and innocent. He didn’t know what he and Arthur had in store for them. The future could be unpredictable and cruel, but somehow he knew they would be fine. As he lay in bed that night, Arthur curled warmly around him, chest to his back and arms wrapped around his waist, he just knew. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from disneyintrovert on AO3: Totally based on the idea that Arthur is the token straight friend who is actually a repressed gay/bi, and everyone in the group (we got the knights, Gwen, Morgana and of course Merlin who is a flaming homosexual) is not Heterosexual™ in some sense. So they (not including merlin) go through the process of trying to get Arthur to realize, probably because he is so repressed and thus unhappy and they don't like that. The tactics range from sensible to, like, “how is this bitch actually still not getting it” and eventually it turns into them just shoving Merlin in Arthur’s face in various different ways and somehow that leads to a kiss.

   It was common knowledge throughout the kingdom of Camelot that the King was in love. Unless, of course, you were the King. Arthur Pendragon was woefully unaware that he was head over heels in love, and with his personal servant no less. His repressed feelings often made themselves known in fits of “pigtail pulling”. He insulted Merlin, threw various objects at him (always small so they were either easily dodged or didn’t hurt too much upon contact, or larger objects such as pillows that wouldn’t hurt in the slightest), and called him an idiot in as many different ways as possible. Merlin never seemed to mind, though. He always just smiled, or pretended to act offended, but in reality he could see the fondness behind Arthur’s actions. He could see how much Arthur liked having him around, how much they needed each other. Even if Arthur never felt comfortable enough with himself to admit it, Merlin would take the easy comradery they had. 

   Their friends, however, were not so willing to settle. It was clear to them that Arthur was never going to realize who he truly was without some kind of intervention. After all, he had been raised his entire life with only one clear path ahead of him. He was to become King, marry a lady of the finest nobility in order to strengthen Camelot’s alliances, and sire an heir to follow the same path he had. It had become so ingrained in Arthur’s head, that the thought of doing anything else, something that would actually make him happy instead of just benefiting the kingdom, would honestly never occur to him. Therefore, Morgana and Gwen, along with Arthur’s closest knights, decided that it was up to them to get the King to admit to himself who he truly was, once and for all.

Morgana

   Morgana, as the one closest to Arthur (after Merlin, of course), could see just how unhappy Arthur truly was, no matter how well he tried to hide it. Now that she was queen, they spent much more time together now than they ever had before. Three years past, Arthur had brought up the idea of Morgana becoming queen. As the daughter of Uther, Arthur had argued that she had just as much of a claim to the throne as he did. As a result, they had agreed to rule by each other’s side as siblings, not through marriage. It had taken a while to convince the Royal Court that it was a good course of action, but eventually they had gotten their way. The prosperity that had followed, what with Morgana openly having magic, had not been seen in Camelot for more years than anyone could remember. In fact, many changes had come to the kingdom since Morgana’s ascension to the throne, magic being freely welcomed only being one of them.

   Their ruling arrangement left them free to romantically pursue whomever they desired, instead of who they were obligated to. Not that Arthur ever took advantage of that, unlike Morgana who had immediately started courting Gwen. The fact that she was a servant, and a woman, made little difference to the Queen, and therefore it made little difference to the people. Morgana often caught Arthur’s longing gaze lingering in their direction when she was with Gwen, and she could easily read it for what it was. He wanted to have what they had. It was even more obvious if they were dining together, to go over various court affairs, and both Gwen and Merlin were in the room serving them. Whenever Morgana reached for Gwen’s hand, a loving smile fixed on her lips, Arthur’s fingers would twitch. His eyes would flick to Merlin before stubbornly sliding away. If it hadn’t carried on this long, Morgana might have actually felt sorry for her brother. It was after one such dinner that she decided to talk to him.

   Gwen and Merlin have just left, promising to be right back with fresh wine and pastries from the kitchen, when Morgana turns to look Arthur in the eye. “Brother dearest, I have something of great importance to talk to you about.”

   Arthur raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Is that so?”

   “Yes.” She replies, choosing to ignore his tone. “I have noticed that despite our arrangement, you have remained unattached.”

   A groan emits from Arthur’s side of the table as he raises his hands to rub at his eyes. “Not you, too, I get enough of this from the council.”

   Morgana shrugs her slim shoulders. “I’m merely making an observation. Is there truly no one special in your life?” 

   She watches intently as Arthur’s eyes flick to the door where Merlin and Gwen had disappeared. They appear to do so subconsciously, like Arthur isn’t even aware that he’s doing it. The poor fool honestly had no inkling of the feelings he harboured for a certain raven-haired servant. Their father had made him push that side of himself so far down that he didn’t even know it existed.

   “No.” Arthur replies, and while he’s trying valiantly to sound unaffected, Morgana can hear the melancholy lacing the words. “I have not had the time to seek out love. You know that better than anyone, Morgana.”

   The Queen tilts her head slightly as she studies the King thoughtfully. “Ruling a kingdom is not easy, that much I will agree with. As far as having the time to find love, well. I managed it quite well.”

   “It’s not really the same, is it?” Arthur replies. “As King, it is my duty to strengthen the kingdom. Letting you rule at my side was one thing, but finding a life partner, a wife, is another altogether. I need someone that I trust explicitly to produce an heir with.”

   A frown mars Morgana’s fair features. “Why must you produce an heir? Can you not simply appoint one?”

   Arthur frowns back, like he had never even considered that as a possibility. “How would that continue the Pendragon line in any way?”

   Morgana shrugs again. “It wouldn’t. Not in name, anyway.” Narrowing her eyes, she continues, “Why must our name be carried on? What would happen if you were to have only daughters instead of sons? Would the Pendragon name still not die out eventually that way?”

   Arthur heaves a sigh. “That’s not the point, Morgana. Why are we even having this conversation? I have not met a lady to which I harbour any kind of feelings for. I do not wish to continue this discussion.”

   Morgana almost smiles. Arthur’s words were not a confession, per se, but they were a step in the right direction. He had freely admitted to never having any feelings for a woman, romantic or otherwise. If he could admit that, then surely he could eventually admit to having feelings for men. Or, at the very least, one in particular. It would just take a little time and effort on all their part. Morgana notices Arthur’s suspicious gaze, and flashes an easy grin as she raises her goblet to her lips and takes a sip of her wine. Before either can say another word, the doors open and Gwen and Merlin reappear. Morgana takes an interested note on how Arthur’s eyes linger on Merlin a little longer than usual before shuttering closed. 

Percival

   Percival was the newest of the knights, and also the most quiet. He wasn’t necessarily shy, he just didn’t talk about his himself very much, and only added to a group conversation when he had something noteworthy to say. He was quite observant, and being such, he saw the signs in Arthur that the man clearly did not see himself. After all, he had spent much of his youth figuring out who he was. He was no stranger to internal crises, and feeling overwhelmed with emotions and wants that he didn’t understand. 

   They are out hunting when he decides to talk to the King personally. Morgana had informed them all of her discussion with her brother, and what he had unknowingly admitted. Percival knew it wasn’t enough to just admit something small like that, but perhaps if he told the King of his own experiences, it could help the man along on his own journey to self discovery. 

   He waits until they are alone, Merlin off finding firewood, Elyan and Lancelot tending to the horses. Leon and Gwaine had stayed back in the city, as they both had other obligations. Arthur is sitting in the dirt, back against a fallen tree, staring sightlessly at the spot where Merlin had disappeared between the thick tree trunks. 

   “Sire.” He greets as he sinks down onto the ground beside his King.

   Arthur nods at him. “Percival. Is there something I can do for you?” He rips his gaze away from the trees and looks beside him at his knight.

   “Nothing important, I merely wanted to talk.” Percival replies. Arthur nods again, and then waits patiently while Percival organizes his thoughts. This was a delicate topic to discuss, he knew that from experience, and with Arthur’s known temper, he had to tread carefully.

   “When I was a boy, I always knew I was different, I just couldn’t really place why.” He finally starts. Arthur sits up a bit more, realizing that this was actually important, no matter what his knight may have said to the contrary. Percival had never opened up about his youth before, so clearly there was a reason for it now. “As I grew older, it became more obvious. In my village, us boys would sit out behind the barn and talk about the girls. I joined in, finding a few of them pretty myself, but I still felt out of place. Like I was telling the truth, but not the whole truth.”

   He pauses for a moment, lost in his memories. “It wasn’t until I was about fourteen that I started to realize why I always felt different than my fellows.” He turns to look at Arthur properly now, making sure he as the King’s full attention. “It wasn’t only the girls in the village that I didn’t mind the idea of courting. It was also the boys.”

   The King inhales sharply, but Percival doesn’t take it as a bad sign. He so seldomly opened up about himself, that people were often surprised by what they heard. Gwaine had, had a similar reaction as Arthur, only he had immediately followed it up with a roguish grin and casually asking if he fancied a snog. 

   “I never would have guessed that about you.” Arthur says quietly. He doesn’t sound uncomfortable, but Percival hadn’t thought he would. After all, his own sister, the queen no less, was in a very public relationship with a woman. If the King had no qualms about that, then knowing that Percival enjoyed the company of both men and women would surely not be an issue. The knight sits quietly, merely watching Arthur process the information. When he doesn’t appear to have anything else to add to his statement, Percival decides to maybe add a bit more to his.

   “It was quite freeing for me, admitting to myself what truly made me happy. Living in a village as I did, they weren’t many opportunities to explore that new side of me, but it was liberating all the same.” As he finishes his piece, silence lingers. Arthur doesn’t say anything, has an unreadable expression on his face. Percival doesn’t push, however, just in case the King was actually contemplating his words seriously.

   After a few minutes of silence, Arthur gives him a friendly pat on the back. “I’m happy for you, Percival, and I hope that Camelot offers you more than your village did. If anyone ever gives you problems, let me know. No form of bigotry is tolerated in my kingdom.”

   That’s not exactly what Percival had wanted Arthur to take away from the conversation, but before he can say anything else, perhaps push a little more, Merlin returns. He drops half his armful of firewood on the ground, and curses profusely under his breath. The King looks up at him, and laughs. It’s a carefree, genuine sound, and Percival smiles discreetly as he watches Arthur get to his feet and cross the short distance to his servant to help. Maybe his words hadn’t had the intended effect he had originally gone for, but they had given the King something to think about, at least, and the knight hoped that Arthur did think about them. For all their sakes.

Leon

   The air that morning is cool, a breeze picking up and threatening rain later. Leon is out on the training grounds, with his fellow men, running through whatever drills Arthur feels like throwing at them that particular morning. He’s thankful for his armour, and the strenuous activity, as it keeps him relatively warm. Unlike Merlin, who’s clearly shivering at the edges of the field.

   “Sire.” Leon says, catching the King’s attention. 

   “Yes, Leon?” He asks as he approaches. The knight gestures in Merlin’s direction.

   “Merlin looks rather cold.” He says innocently. Arthur narrows his eyes, tilting his head slightly as he studies his manservant. Merlin’s shoulders are hunched up around his ears, arms wrapped around himself to try and conserve heat. For a moment, Leon thinks that the King is going to head over there. 

   He takes a shuffled half step forward, which he quickly aborts, before shouting, “Merlin!”

   Merlin looks up at his name, sees Arthur beckon him over wordlessly, and obediently gets to his feet. The closer he gets, the more obvious it is that he’s cold, even if he seems to be trying his best to hide the fact. 

   “Yes?” The man asks through slightly clenched teeth. Arthur smiles, but it’s not exactly friendly. Merlin lifts a decidedly wary eyebrow.

   “You look cold.” Arthur states calmly, eyeing Merlin intently.

   Slowly, Merlin nods. “I am a bit, yeah. Why?”

   The King’s grin grows, making even Leon feel uneasy. Stepping closer, Arthur plants a hand between Merlin’s shoulder blades, and shoves him towards where the extra swords are kept. Merlin takes a stumbling step forward, then looks back at him in confusion. 

   Arthur gestures forwards again as he says, “Go on, pick one. You can work with Leon, since I trust him not to slack off just because you’re his friend.”

   Merlin does as he is told. After grabbing the hilt of one of the swords, he turns and makes his way towards Leon. The knight gives him a sympathetic smile, one which Merlin returns as a grimace. Leon feels a little bad, seeing as this is his fault. It hadn’t been his intention, of course. He had been hoping that Arthur would give Merlin his cloak which he had worn down to the field, and was no longer using. 

   As they settle in to run through the drills together, Arthur approaches again. To Leon’s surprise, the King gets quite close to Merlin, setting hands on him to physically shift him into proper position. Leon honestly can’t remember the last time that the King had ever helped guide anyone into form. He gave pointers on how to get there, but he never so gently pushed and prodded someone into perfect form. With Merlin, he’s constantly settling a hand on his lower back to push his hips forward, saying that he’s sticking his little bottom out too much. He’s grabbing his shoulders and pulling them back, saying he’s leaning too close towards the enemy, and could get his head chopped off. He’s gently gripping his wrists and moving his sword into proper position, nudging his foot into Merlin’s lowers legs to try and widen and stabilize his stance. Leon has never before seen Arthur act as such. 

   “Are you warmer yet, Merlin?” Arthur asks teasingly, patting the man’s shoulder.

   Merlin looks at Leon as Arthur strides away, and mutters, “I hate him.” Leon merely laughs in response.

   When the session is over, Leon hangs back as the other men head to the armoury. He wants to talk to Arthur, about what he just witnessed, but he isn’t entirely sure how. It was clear as day, with how tenderly Arthur had manoeuvred his servant into place, that he cared a great deal for the man. He apparently just didn’t see it himself. He’s broken from his thoughts when Arthur appears beside him.

   “Leon, was there something you wished to discuss?” The King asks. Leon looks over at him, only to find Arthur gazing off in the direction of where Merlin is gathering his various equipment.

   “How long as we known each other, Arthur?” He asks. His use of the man’s name, instead of his title, brings the King’s attention fully to him.

   “Since I was old enough to hold a sword, if not longer. Why?” Arthur asks, curious, but also suspicious.

   Leon nods. “And you trust me to always have the best interests of both you and the kingdom at heart?”

   A puzzled frown takes over the King’s features. “Of course I do. I know I can always rely on you to have my back, to stand by my side. Why? Has something happened?”

   The knight takes a moment to deliberate his answer. Both Morgana’s and Percival’s failed attempts at getting Arthur to clearly see their point, had made it obvious that they need to be more blunt, but not offensively so. There was no point in angering the man, not when it would be Merlin he would undoubtedly take his frustrations out on.

   “You know that there are... certain decisions you could make, that not only I, but your people as well, would support wholeheartedly.” He finally decides on. When Arthur just looks at him blankly, he adds, “For example, if you were to find someone special who wasn’t necessarily befitting your station, or that your father would not have approved of, no one would care.”

   Arthur’s face screws up distastefully. “You’ve been talking to Morgana, haven’t you? I really don’t understand everyone’s sudden fixation on my love life.”

   The knight smiles slightly. “We merely want you to be happy, my Lord.”

   “And what if I am happy?” Arthur retorts. “I have never once said that I was unhappy. Where are you all getting this information from?”

   “Sire, Arthur, as you said, I’ve known you since you were old enough to hold a sword. I may not know you as well as some, but I can tell when you are genuinely happy, and when you are trying to fake it.” Leon says gently. “Look at all these changes you’ve brought about since taking the throne. Why should they apply to everyone else, but not to you? You deserve to have what you want, just as much as your people do.”

   He punctuates his sentence with a pointed look in Merlin’s direction. Arthur follows his gaze, and watches Merlin thoughtfully. Leon waits in silence, willing to let the King sort his own mind out before offering a reply. Eventually, Arthur takes a deep breath, and turns back to look at Leon. He gives him a smile, and claps him heartily on the shoulder. 

   “Thank you, Leon, for your support. I will consider what you’ve said, and should I meet a girl that’s not of nobility, but is otherwise perfect for me, you shall be the first to know.” He smiles wider, then moves off to where Merlin is patiently waiting for him, various swords and maces and shields weighing his arms down. Leon watches him go forlornly. The man had completely missed the point he had been trying to make. He supposes that he should at least be grateful that the King wasn’t as obtuse as this in all aspects of his life, or gods above, they would all be doomed.

Gwen

   The annual banquet and ball for Yule was approaching quickly, and Gwen decides that maybe she could use that to her advantage. After a quick discussion with Morgana about her plans, the Queen eagerly steals Merlin under the guise of needing some help moving things about her chambers. Gwen, in Merlin’s stead, brings the King’s laden lunch tray to his chambers. 

   She knocks politely on the closed doors, receiving a confused, “Come in!” Gwen pushes the door open, smiling innocently at the blond as she steps inside.

   “You’re not Merlin.” Arthur says. Gwen has to bite back a smile.

   “No, my Lord. The Queen requested Merlin’s service to help with some heavy lifting, and sent me in his place to take care of whatever chores he had left for the day.” Gwen replies, respectfully keeping her eyes down. No need to make Arthur suspicious right off the bat.

   The King snorts a laugh. “Merlin and heavy lifting? My dear sister would’ve been better off with you helping her, I’m sure.”

   Gwen grins, all sparkling eyes and friendly blush to her cheeks. “Perhaps. Still, I’m more than willing to finish off whatever Merlin has left undone.”

   Arthur looks around his chambers as Gwen approaches the table and lays the tray down gently. Truth be told, Merlin had left nearly everything undone. Even after years of service, he was still the worst servant the King had ever heard of. He looks back at Gwen with an apologetic look. Gwen meets his eyes, easily reading the unspoken words, and merely chuckles. Still, she doesn’t start doing anything. She won’t make it that easy on the King. 

   “Erm, truth be told, Merlin really hasn’t done anything today except eat half my breakfast and criticize my early attempts at writing a speech for the Yule banquet. However, if you wish to take over, be my guest.” He offers up a genuine, polite smile, like he truthfully doesn’t care whether Gwen decides to finish up Merlin’s work, or not.

   Gwen bobs into a curtsy, then moves further into the room. Arthur goes back to scratching his quill over blank parchment, occasionally grunting in frustration, as Gwen moves about the room. She picks up stray clothes littered on the floor, grinning to herself as she recalls each and every one of Merlin’s rants about how sloppy the King of Camelot is. She sorts the clothes into ones that need laundering, and ones that don’t, then quietly sets about folding what needed folding, and hanging up what needed hanging up. 

   Eventually, when she deems Arthur relaxed and unsuspecting enough, she asks, “So, the Yule banquet. Have you decided to take someone with you this year?”

   Arthur groans. “Not you, too.” Gwen looks up, keeping her smile at bay as she looks at Arthur curiously. “I’ve already told Morgana, and Leon, that I have no one special in my life, and nor do I need one. Even when my father was on the throne, I never took someone as my guest to the ball, and I don’t see why that needs to change now.”

   The woman nods, understanding. Arthur nods back, apparently deciding that, that was all that would be said on the subject, and looks back down at his parchment. He writes a few more lines, scratches a few more out angrily. 

   “What about Merlin?” Gwen suddenly asks, making Arthur startle slightly. He looks up at her with wide eyes.

   “What about Merlin?” He asks.

   “Well, if he’s only going to be attending as your servant, why don’t you just take him with you as your guest?” She asks innocently. Arthur makes an interesting, strangled noise in the back of his throat. He blinks a few times, coughs once or twice, clears his throat, and sets his quill down.

   “I’m not sure what that harpy, which I so stupidly made the Queen of Camelot, has been filling your head with, but Merlin and I are just friends. That’s all.” Arthur says, but his voice is strained, and his eyes look almost panicky. Gwen had to force herself not to smile.

   Instead, she blinks in mock confusion, and says, “Of course, I know that. I meant attend the banquet together as friends. Surely that is something that can be done, as not everyone is inclined to romance, and merely seek close friendships with people. What did you think I meant?”

   The King goes decidedly red, and fidgets in his seat behind his desk. “I just assumed— you know what, it doesn’t matter.” He looks away, ears now red too. “If I were to take Merlin, what would people assume? I’d rather not put him in that position.”

   Gwen very nearly loses her composure. The King was so oblivious to what was right under his nose, that it was almost endearing. Silently, she finishes sorting Arthur’s clothes, and sets them away in their proper places, then turns back to the King. He is staring blankly at the wall, and doesn’t notice her approach the side of his desk. When she lays a hand gently on his shoulder, he jumps slightly, looking up at her with slightly dazed eyes.

   “No need to overthink things, Arthur. I’m sure Merlin would love to go with you as your friend, especially considering how close you two are. He won’t care what other people think, I’m sure of it. Although, were you to ask him to accompany you in a romantic sense, I doubt he’d be opposed. Just as I know your people would not be opposed. They all adore Merlin.”

   Arthur clears his throat awkwardly. “Asking Merlin would not be right. It could give off the wrong ideas, and I do not wish to hurt him. I know of his preferences, and I do not judge him for them, I just... don’t... uhm.” He trails off, dropping his eyes back to the scribbled on parchment on his desk. “Share them. Those preferences.”

   He pushes away from his desk abruptly, causing Gwen’s hand to slip from his shoulder. He straightens his tunic unnecessarily before running a hand back through his hair. He swallows thickly a few times before giving her a tense smile. 

   “You may go, Gwen. Have the rest of the day off. I’m sure you could use it, what with dealing with my sister all day, every day.” He says in a rush. His cheeks are redder than before, and his eyes look flighty, darting around the room without settling on one thing for too long. Gwen mentally pats herself on the back. He still wasn’t admitting his true feelings yet, but perhaps they were starting to make themselves known, and that was certainly a step in the right direction.

   Dipping into a curtsy, Gwen says, “Thank you, Sire. Shall I go fetch Merlin for you?”

   “No.” Arthur replies, much too quickly and forcefully. “No, that’s fine. I’m sure I can manage without help for the rest of the day. Besides, knowing Morgana, if I take her help away, I’ll be paying for it for a fortnight, at least.”

   “As you wish, Sire.” Gwen replies easily. “Don’t forget to eat your lunch before it gets cold.”

   With that, she turns and leaves the room. She can clearly hear Arthur’s footsteps start pacing his chamber floors as the door sweeps shut behind her. She grins openly, now that she’s out of view of His Royal Highness, and nearly skips down the hall towards Morgana’s chambers. Merlin would be curious as to her sudden appearance, but she would just tell him that Arthur requested some time alone to work on his speech, and that Merlin was to go see if Gaius required his services instead. She smiles wider as she thinks of the conversation she’s about to have with her partner. They still had a ways to go before Arthur finally realized where his affections lay, but she firmly believed that they were making progress on breaking down the walls guarding his heart. And that in itself was cause for celebration.

Elyan

   The idea of hanging mistletoe strategically throughout the castle in every doorway, stairwell, and hallway, comes from Elyan. The whole group applauded the idea, and quickly set about making it happen. However, at the same time, Arthur decides to lend Merlin to the Head of Serving Staff in the castle, to better help prepare for the upcoming Yule celebrations, and the influx of guests that will be arriving in a fortnight’s time. This sudden act of selfless generosity means that the two of them are rarely ever in the same place at the same time anymore, much to the frustration of their friends. 

   One morning, Elyan hears from his sister that Arthur had requested Merlin’s presence for the day. With bubbling excitement, the knight sneaks through the halls towards the King’s chambers. He would follow them until he got what he wanted, or at least for as long as he could. He’s almost there, when he hears Arthur’s voice carrying down the hall towards him, and he ducks into an alcove silently. He listens intently as footsteps approach, peeking out as they pass. He frowns when he sees Merlin trailing quite a bit behind Arthur, instead of beside him as he usually is. Their current positions would make the mistletoe useless, since they’d never be under it at the same time.

   Creeping out of his hiding place, Elyan follows them along discreetly. Every single bunch of green leaves and white berries goes unused as they pass through the halls, and Elyan grits his teeth in frustration. This was almost worse than the two of them not being together. They were so close to subtly shoving Merlin in Arthur’s face, but so far at the same time. In a last ditch attempt to just get Arthur to wait long enough to Merlin to catch up, Elyan jogs up beside the raven-haired servant.

   “Merlin, do you have a moment?” He asks, not entirely sure what to follow up with. Merlin looks at him curiously, but stops all the same.

   “Yeah, what’s up?” He asks. Elyan opens his mouth to reply, but gets cut off before a word gets out when Arthur realizes that Merlin is no longer following him.

   “Merlin! What are you doing?” Both the servant and the knight look over at their King, and Elyan bites back a smile when he notices exactly where the man is standing. Or more precisely, what he’s standing under.

   “Relax, Sire!” Merlin calls back, glancing at Elyan and rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Elyan needs something quick. Just be patient and I’ll be right there.” He returns his attention to Elyan beside him, raising his eyebrows to silently tell him to carry on. They both ignore Arthur’s irritated huff from farther on down the hall.

   Elyan flounders for a moment for a plausible reason for stopping Merlin, then decides to just spew out nonsense when nothing better comes to mind. “I though I’d warn you that I overheard some of the serving girls talking. They’re plotting to try and catch you under the mistletoe as often as they can. Apparently they’re quite upset that you prefer men, and want at least one chance to kiss you.”

   Merlin’s eyes widen for a moment before he bursts out a surprised laugh. Half turning toward Arthur, he calls out, “Did your hear that, Sire? Apparently I’m quite sought after in this castle.” He has an embarrassed, but delighted, flush to his cheeks as he continues to chuckle. Settling a hand on Elyan’s shoulder, he says, “Thank you for the heads up. I’m sure a few platonic smooches with the serving girls won’t traumatize me too much. Maybe I’ll get lucky and have a few of the serving boys try for a chance as well.” He shoots Elyan a wink, then turns and continues on his way down the hall towards the King. Much to Elyan’s delight, Arthur stays where he is, arms crossed, and glaring at his approaching servant. 

   When Merlin comes to a stop beside Arthur, he pointedly clears his throat. Elyan watches on as Arthur just looks at him uncomprehendingly. With a theatrical sigh, Merlin looks up and points. Arthur follows his eyes up, promptly flushing red when he notices the festive decoration hanging above them. He grumbles something too low for Elyan to fully make out (though he does catch the words ‘blasted’ and ‘sister’), which only makes Merlin laugh. 

   The knight watches with bated breath as Arthur scowls ferociously, then huffs a forceful sigh out through his nose. That breath rushes out of him in disappointment as Arthur lifts his right hand to his mouth, and presses an obnoxiously loud kiss to the tips of his fingers before patting Merlin on the cheek several times.

   “That’s all the kiss you’re getting from me. If you want a real one, you’ll have to work a lot harder than you currently do.” Arthur announces. Elyan swears that he sees a flicker of disappointment on Merlin’s face before he grins goofily. They both turn and continue on their way, leaving Elyan standing there staring after them. It wasn’t quite what he had been going for, but wasn’t what Arthur said interesting? Sure, it had been spoken out in jest, but even the knight could hear some truth underlying the sarcastic words.

Gwaine

   The mistletoe has been up for about two days when Gwaine decides he’s tired of waiting on a chance encounter between Arthur and his servant. Especially after the mock kiss they had shared in front of Elyan. Gwaine knew that more desperate and blunt measures were in order. So, he starts following Merlin around everywhere. He disguises it as just missing his friend, and wanting to spend some quality time with him, but he makes sure that whenever Arthur is looking in their direction, he’s touching Merlin in some way. When that doesn’t get the desired effect, he moves on to sloppy kisses on the cheek.

   He’s walking down the hall, deep in conversation with Merlin, when he spots Arthur suddenly turn the corner ahead of them, and start making his way towards them. Gwaine, though still listening to what Merlin is saying, pivots gracefully and plants his lips on Merlin’s cheek.

   “Ugh, Gwaine!” Merlin complains lightheartedly, shoving him away playfully as he wipes at his cheek. Gwaine glances surreptitiously in Arthur’s direction and grins when he sees the King frowning.

   The knight is walking into a Council Chambers, and as he passes Merlin, reaches up to affectionately run his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Merlin tries to duck away, but doesn’t make it in time, his cheeks reddening as Gwaine’s fingers run through his locks. When Gwaine chances a look in Arthur’s direction, the man is glaring at him. He continues to glare for the duration of the council meeting.

   Out on the training grounds one mid-morning, the wind picks up, and is brutally cold. Seeing Merlin curling tighter into his thin jacket, Gwaine abandons his sparring partner, and leaves the field to stand behind Merlin, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him back into his chest. He knows he doesn’t have much body heat to share, what with his armour and chainmail on, but he does angle them both so he’s blocking the wind from Merlin’s body. When he looks back at the others, Arthur’s dark stare would make weaker men cry.

   He continues these antics for three days. He continues to get fowl looks from the King, but it never goes much further than that. Deciding that he needed to step up his game, he comes to the conclusion that he must actually kiss Merlin. Properly, and in front of the King. It was a risky move on two accounts. One, Merlin could react badly (though that wasn’t too likely, it was still something that could happen), and two, Arthur could very well try to run him through with his sword. 

   He puts his new plan into action that very same day, down at the training grounds. They meet in the afternoon, when the sun is higher in the sky, and the air is slightly warmer. The cold winds have continued, much to everyone’s dismay, but the King insists on training anyway. A battle was not going to be put on hold because of nasty weather. Gwaine had rolled his eyes at that reasoning, but had joined in eagerly enough. If training today meant finally getting Arthur to open his eyes properly, then it would be worth the wind burn, and the hair unfortunately blowing into his mouth.

   Halfway through their drills, Arthur calls for a short break, in case anyone needs water at all. He may be demanding, but he didn’t want any of his men working themselves to exhaustion. Spotting his chance, Gwaine saunters over to Merlin, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his side playfully.

   “Say, Merlin, what have you thought about all that mistletoe, eh? I’m sure there’s been lots of people around the castle wanting to plant one on you.” He says jovially.

   Merlin snorts. “Mostly women, wanting to have a go at least once. It hadn’t been too bad, though. I’ve had a few shared embraces that were more enjoyable.” He replies, eyes flicking briefly over to Arthur, who is watching them discreetly, but trying to make it look like he isn’t.

   The knight grins suavely. “Well, it’s a shame I haven’t caught you under it yet.”

   “Like you need the excuse of mistletoe to kiss anyone you want.” Merlin says through a laugh. Gwaine hums thoughtfully, pretending to deliberate over what Merlin had just said.

   “You know what,” he says, pulling away slightly to better see Merlin’s face, “you’re absolutely right.”

   Without another word, he leans in closer and presses his lips to Merlin’s. He expects Merlin to laugh, to shove him away and pretend to berate him, but he doesn’t. To Gwaine’s surprise, Merlin actually kisses him back. He’s so shocked, that he doesn’t pull away when he had intended, and just keeps kissing him until he hears someone very close by clear their throat. Pulling away, he sees Arthur standing there, scowling at him. He flashes him an easy grin in return, only making Arthur’s eyes narrow further. 

   “Sir Gwaine,” the King says through clenched teeth, “what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

   Gwaine looks back at Merlin beside him, takes note of his slightly red cheeks, and replies, “Why, I’m just giving Merls here the love he deserves. It’s about time someone appreciates how much he does. It’s not like he’s attached to anyone, and he doesn’t mind, do you Merls?”

   He glances beside him at Merlin, who’s blushing like mad now as he ducks his head. Gwaine still catches sight of a bashful smile though as he subtly shakes his head no. Gwaine looks back at the King, dramatically shrugging one shoulder in a ‘see, what can you do’  motion.

   Arthur grits his teeth, and Gwaine thinks he might even be able to hear it from where he’s standing. “This whole mistletoe business has gone far enough. The last thing I need is everyone starting to canoodle without the excuse of it.” Gwaine raises his eyebrows, forcing back a grin.

   “Ah, come on, don’t be like that, Princess.” Arthur’s expression darkens, and Gwaine sees his hand, clutched around his sword, tightening its grip on the hilt. Before he can say or do anything rash, however, Gwaine says, “You know, if you’d like a go, I’m sure Merlin here wouldn’t mind, would you Merls? There’s plenty of him to go around!”

   Dropping his hand to the small of Merlin’s back, he shoves him forward. Merlin opens his mouth to tell him off, but his words get cut off by a yelp as he’s suddenly tumbling forward. Arthur instinctively drops his sword, hands reaching out to grip Merlin’s waist to keep him from stumbling forcefully into him, and causing them both to tumble onto the hard ground. Merlin’s arms flail up to Arthur’s shoulders, gripping tight out of self preservation. 

   When they both finally come to a stop, they’re almost nose to nose, eyes wide with shock as they stare silently at each other. Gwaine watches intently, waiting to see what they’ll do. His heart leaps when he sees Arthur’s eyes clearly drop down to focus on Merlin’s lips. He even swears that he sees the blond lean in just slightly, before rearing back and shoving Merlin away until he’s arms length away. Once his servant is settled and steady on his feet, he lets go and takes a step back. 

   “Gwaine, I suggest you go do what you’re supposed to be doing.” Arthur says emotionlessly. Gwaine would almost be less worried had Arthur continued scowling and snarling at him. As it is, Arthur gives him one last blank look, before flicking his eyes to Merlin. The knight is sure that he sees something akin to hurt in Arthur’s eyes as he turns away and walks back to the group. He glances at Merlin, only to find him staring after Arthur almost wistfully. With a sigh, he claps Merlin on the back, then makes his way back onto the field. That hadn’t quite gone as he had hoped, but he had to feel some sort of satisfaction. He was sure that they were one step closer. Arthur was this close to finally just admitting his feelings for Merlin, Gwaine could feel it.

Lancelot

   Lancelot decides that when it comes to Arthur, bigger is not always better. Three days out from the Yule banquet and ball, he approaches the King with a question. Arthur is in his chambers, thankfully alone, going over last minute paperwork. He calls for Lancelot to enter when he politely knocks, and looks up inquisitively as he enters.

   “Ah, Lancelot. What can I do for you?” The King asks. He has a slight frown on his face, more just a stressed crease between his brows. Lancelot nods his head respectfully before voicing his request.

   “Sire, I have come to seek your permission.” He states simply. Arthur wrinkles his nose slightly, before offering the knight a tired smile.

   “Permission for what?” He asks. Lancelot looks at him intently, but passively.

   “Sire,” he says, stepping closer, “I wish to take Merlin to the banquet as my guest, but only if I have your blessing to do so.”

   Silence falls over the room as Arthur stares at his knight blankly. Lancelot waits patiently, willing to let the King think over his request, and how, exactly, he felt about it. Lancelot didn’t actually want to take Merlin to the ball, but he was hoping that if he expressed an interest, then Arthur would step in before it was too late. As Lancelot waits, watching his King mutely, several different emotions flash across the man’s face, each one more unreadable than the last. Finally, he sets his quill down and leans back in his chair.

   “What is it lately with my manservant and everyone in this blasted castle?” Arthur grouches. Lancelot tilts his head, pretending to be confused. Arthur huffs in frustration, then says, “My answer is no.”

   “No?” Lancelot repeats. Arthur nods. “If I may, Sire, can I ask why?”

   Arthur chews on his lower lip for a moment before carefully saying, “Because he is already going with someone.”

   The knight takes that in, and nods. He knows very well that Arthur isn’t telling the truth. At least, not the whole truth. He had spoken to Merlin just that morning, and the raven haired man had told him that he was serving at the banquet, as far as he knew. Obviously, Arthur’s new plans for him hadn’t quite reached their intended recipient yet. 

   “Well,” Lancelot says, spreading his hands slightly in front of him, “I guess I missed my chance. Whoever is lucky enough to accompany him, I wish them all the best.” Arthur narrows his eyes slightly. “If he is attending the banquet as a guest, who is going to be attending you?”

   The King shifts slightly. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.” He mumbles, probably unintentionally out loud. Still, the knight just bobs his head in a respectful nod.

   “Very well. I’m sorry to have disturbed you for nothing, Sire.” Lancelot says, already taking a step back to leave. Before he can go too far, the King gets to his feet.

   “Lancelot.” He says. Lancelot stops and looks at him placidly. “I— Uhm. Do you think Merlin—” He makes an odd, strangling, choke of a sound in his throat, then looks away. “Never mind. Have a good night.”

   Lancelot nods his head again, then turns and leaves. As soon as the doors are closed behind him, he breaks out into a grin. His steps are light as he travels through the halls towards the Queen’s chambers. He had some very important news to pass along.

   After knocking once, Gwen answers the door. She smiles as soon as she sees who it is. Even now that she was with Morgana, she was still quite close with Lancelot. Opening the door wider, she lets him in. Morgana looks up from her perch at her table, and grins.

   “I think I quite like that look, Sir Lancelot. Tell me, have you just been to see my dear brother?” She asks.

   Lancelot nods. “Indeed I have, m’lady. I asked for Arthur’s permission to take Merlin to the banquet as my guest.” Morgana tilts her head in interest.

   “And?” She prompts.

   “And he said no.” Lancelot says, smile slipping wider. “Apparently our dear friend Merlin is already going with someone.”

   “That can’t be right.” Gwen pipes up, crossing the floor to sit my Morgana’s side. “I talked to him just this morning, and he didn’t mention anything.”

   Lancelot nods again. “I believe that Arthur is trying to pluck up the courage to ask him, but hasn’t found the right words yet. I think we should back off for now, and wait to see what the ball brings.”

   Morgana’s grin turns wolffish. “Very wise of you, Sir Knight.” She grips Gwen’s hand, almost subconsciously. “Tell the others. We are all to leave our dearly beloved King alone until after Yule. Perhaps a little Yuletide magic will actually happen this year.”

   It doesn’t take long for word to be spread to everyone that Arthur is to he left alone, as per request of the Queen. Lancelot’s news is also spread, and everyone eagerly awaits the ball, and what could possibly come from it.

Merlin

   At long last, the day before the banquet comes to an end. Merlin is exhausted. He’s spent the better part of the last three weeks helping to decorate and organize for the annual Yule festivities. He honestly had no idea how he had gotten roped into it. He was supposed to be Arthur’s personal servant, not on loan to anyone who bats a pathetic eyelash in the King’s direction. At least after tomorrow, it would all be over. Unless he also got manhandled into helping take everything down and clean it all up.

   After just barely making it in time to bring the King supper, he gets dismissed early. Confused, he leaves Arthur’s chambers and slowly makes his way back to Gaius’ chambers, and the little room he called his own. As he goes, he can’t help but think about how odd Arthur had been behaving. He had seemed nervous. Which, needless to say, was not an emotion he was used to seeing on his King.

   Gaius looks up as he enters their shared quarters, but doesn’t mention his early arrival home. For this, Merlin is grateful. He’s still trying to figure out if he had done something wrong or not. He can’t think of anything he might’ve done to anger the King, but he ponders it all throughout dinner. He magics the dishes clean, then moves off to his room without a word. He can feel Gaius’ eyes on his as he goes, but he’s too drained, both physically and emotionally, to discuss anything with his guardian.

   He enters his room blindly, moving to pull off his neckerchief and jacket. He’s halfway out of said jacket when he notices the bundle sitting on his bed. Frowning, he shrugs the other sleeve off, leaving the garment in a pile on the floor, and approaches the small bed. Sitting on top of the messily wrapped bundle is a folded note. Reaching out, he picks it up and carefully opens it, immediately recognizing Arthur’s handwriting. 

Merlin,

You have been working very hard these past few weeks, and I want you to know that I appreciate it, even when I don’t always tell you. For that, I want you to have tomorrow off. You are to attend the banquet and the ball afterwards as a guest, not as my servant. I will survive with George, and his dreary brass jokes, for the day. You are to simply enjoy all the hard work you’ve put into this.

I do not want to see your face until the feast. You are to be relaxing, not working.

Arthur

   Merlin reads and rereads the note several times. He doesn’t have anything nice to wear to a banquet, and Arthur knows that. He has the one jacket that he wore to Arthur’s coronation, and he had deemed that fancy enough to wear whilst serving his King, but it certainly was not worthy enough of attending the actual celebrations. 

   With a frown, he sets the note aside, and reaches for the bundle. He holds his breath as he opens it, not even sure what he’s expecting to find inside. What is inside makes him inhale sharply. Folded, and set in a neat pile, are three very beautiful, very expensive sets of cloth. Reaching out, he grabs the darkest. As they unfold, he realizes that they are a pair of new trousers, in a rich dark brown. Setting them aside, he reaches for the next one, which turns out to be a new tunic, in a crisp white. Beneath that, is a navy blue jacket, made of the softest velvet that Merlin has ever felt. Along the collar, in a tasteful pattern, are ornate silver stars. It’s quite possibly the most beautiful jacket that Merlin had ever seen.

   With shaking hands, he pulls it on. It fits perfectly, almost like it was tailored to fit him exactly. Looking at the other two garments on his bed, he has a sneaking suspicion that they’ll fit just as nicely as well. Biting his lip, he pulls the new jacket off and moves to hang it, as well as the tunic and trousers, lovingly up in his cupboard. He really didn’t have an excuse now not to attend, as per the King’s wishes. 

   As he slips into bed that night, his heart flutters slightly. He had no idea what to expect the next day, but he could certainly hope, and dream, that perhaps the King felt the same as he did. Those thoughts fall away, however, as he thinks about what their friends are up to. He isn’t stupid. He knows what they’re doing. That’s why he kissed Gwaine back. He just hopes that they haven’t all pushed Arthur too far.

~~~

   The next day dawns much nicer than the ones previous, and Merlin can’t help but smile. He has the entire day off from having to do chores for Arthur. Not that he minded spending time with the King. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. He had, after all, been pining helplessly after the golden king for years, since shortly after they had met and Arthur had first defied his father just to save his life. He hadn’t even been the king yet, back then. 

   Having an unexpected day off from Arthur does not mean that he has a day off from Gaius, however, so he spends his morning cleaning their chambers (he uses his magic for the leech tank), then grabs his bag and heads off into the forest to gather herbs. He had always enjoyed this part. Being out in nature, with no one around to disturb the quiet, was always so peaceful. He used a little magic to keep himself warm as he traipsed through the underbrush, humming to himself joyfully. 

   His joy soon turns to panic when he realizes that he’s spent a little too much time out collecting herbs, and has ventured a little too far away. Securing his bag, no sense in losing what he’s gathered, he turns and makes a run back for the city. He couldn’t be late tonight. He didn’t know why, but there was just something telling him that he could not be late. 

   He bursts into their chambers a short time later, very much out of breath. Dropping his bag on the worktable bench, he rushes off back to his room. With slightly shaky hands he pulls his new clothes out, smoothing them out on the bed for one last careful look first. They still seem to be fine, so he sheds his old clothes, and dons the new. 

   Just as he had expected, they fit perfectly. He has no idea how Arthur managed it, but he isn’t going to question it. It’s a thoughtful and lovely gift, and it’s left his chest feeling all light and fluttery. With one last deep breath, he opens his door and ventures back down into the main room. Gaius looks up and raises a curious eyebrow, and Merlin flushes under the look.

   “They’re from Arthur. He told me to attend the banquet tonight as a guest instead of a servant. He left these for me on my bed.” He explains bashfully.

   “Did he now?” Gaius replies. He looks like he’s trying not to chuckle over something that’s a good joke, and Merlin doesn’t understand why. “You best be on your way, then. You don’t want to be late.”

   Merlin shakes his head, then speed walks over to the door. He pauses, turning back to look at his guardian. He opens his mouth, but stops, unsure what he wants to say. Gaius seems to understand, though, and smiles at him gently. With a simple nod of his head, he puts Merlin at ease. Turning back, Merlin marches out the door.

   The trip down to the Great Hall, where the feasts are usually held, is short. Merlin is let in without a second glance, and as soon as he steps in, his mouth drops open. The entire place truly does look beautiful. Some work has clearly been done today, while he was doing chores for Gaius, and the end result is quite stunning. After a look around, he scans the crowd for Arthur, but doesn’t see the King anywhere. However, he does spot Morgana, Gwen faithfully by her side, and heads over to say hello.

   “Merlin!” Morgana purrs as he gets closer. “You do clean up rather nicely, don’t you. Just wait until my brother sees you.” She sends him a lascivious wink. Merlin wrinkles his nose in confusion. What did Arthur seeing him have to do with anything? Before he can ask, Morgana gets to her feet and grips his elbow. “Come, you’ll be sitting on Arthur’s other side tonight.”

   Merlin gets pulled to the empty seat at the King’s right, and pushed down to sit. He looks around, relatively stunned, but everyone acts like this is completely normal, like he belongs in this seat. He glances around again, trying to spot Arthur in the group of people inside the vast hall, but still can’t see him anywhere. He screws his brows into a frown, and chews nervously on his lower lip.

   It isn’t until all the guests are settling down into their seats, the servants bringing out the first course of the feast, that the King finally arrives. He’s as stunning as usual, but the sight still takes Merlin’s breath away. Arthur’s eyes immediately lock onto him as he approaches, and Merlin’s blushes under the intense gaze. He’s so focused on the man’s strong profile that he completely misses the short speech that Arthur has prepared, only snapping back to reality as Arthur sinks down into his seat regally.

   “I see the new clothes fit well.” He says softly, so only Merlin can hear. The words make the warlock blush even more.

   “Uhm, yeah, they’re great. Thank you, Arthur.” He says earnestly. To his surprise, Arthur actually flushes a little pink, but he ducks his head away to hide it.

   “It’s no problem, Merlin. You needed banquet worthy clothes. I couldn’t very well be seen with you here in those ratty rags you usually wear, could I?” He snips back, but he sounds so fond beneath his words that Merlin merely grins. It’s things like this, that made him love his King even more. 

   The banquet passes quietly enough, though Merlin notices that Arthur seems quite antsy. He’s almost acting nervous and shy, and Merlin has no idea what to do with it. He jokes with him, as he usually does, making rude comments about the snobbier looking nobles. Arthur jokes back the same as always, but there’s an almost uncertain edge to it that Merlin has never noticed before. He doesn’t question his King about it, however, not wanting the man to slam his walls back up. Showing this much vulnerability is difficult for the man, Merlin knows, and he doesn’t want to cause Arthur to shut out everything he’s currently letting in. No matter what it is that’s making him fidgety.

   It only gets worse as the dessert course gets cleared, and Arthur stands to announce that the ball is about to begin. Morgana gets to her feet with a grin, theatrically waving her hands. With a flash of gold eyes, the long dining tables disappear. As the guests all stand, they’re chairs get moved to the fringes of the room, where smaller tables suddenly appear. Merlin watches with a smile. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to how freely magic was used and welcomed in Camelot now. It never failed to leave an overwhelming flutter of emotion in his chest. 

   That flutter of emotion gets cut off, then shifted into an absolute hurricane, as Arthur gently touches his elbow and asks, “Would you care to dance?”

   Merlin blinks, and looks beside him. “With me?”

   “Yes, Merlin.” Arthur drawls, sounding a little more like himself. “With you. After all, the King should dance with his own guest as the ball.”

   Words leave Merlin as he takes in what the King has just said. He wasn’t just a guest here, he was the King’s guest. A swarm of butterflies takes up residence in his stomach as he nods mutely. Arthur sighs in relief, like part of him had been expecting Merlin to say no, then holds out a hand for the warlock to take. Merlin curls his hand around the King’s, and allows himself to be lead to the middle of the floor. Arthur shifts the grip of their hands as he turns to face him, other arm reaching down to wrap snugly around his waist. Merlin drapes his other arm around Arthur’s shoulders, then lets the man lead them in a gentle, swaying dance.

   “Arthur, can I ask why I’m here as your guest?” Merlin asks. Arthur twists his face up slightly, before smoothing his features out diplomatically. A mask. One in which Merlin desperately wished Arthur didn’t think he needed.

   “It has recently been brought to my attention that you mean a great deal to me. You are much more than just my servant, Merlin, and I feel as if I never show you how much I truly appreciate you.” Arthur replies softly. Merlin nods with a smile, acutely aware of the blush rising to his cheeks. 

   “Thank you, Sire.” He says, when he looks up, Arthur has an odd look on his face.

   “Please don’t call me that. Not tonight.” Arthur says so quietly, Merlin almost doesn’t hear him. Before he can question the king more on that weird request, the man continues, “I care about you, Merlin. A lot. You make me happy, happier than I ever was before you stumbled so gracefully into my life. I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for that.”

   “So you invited me here to dance with you?” Merlin asks, getting more confused now.

   Arthur looks vaguely pained. “It’s more than that, Merlin. I— These last few weeks I’ve had quite a few interesting discussions, about everything. But the main point from each one, has been me being happy, and accepting my happiness. That I don’t need to live the life my father expected of me, not anymore. And maybe I never did, but I can’t change the past. What I can change, is my future, and in my future, I want you there.”

   Merlin thinks his heart is either about to stop entirely, or beat right out of his chest. “What are you saying, Arthur?”

   “I’m saying,” Arthur says slowly, carefully, “that I think— well, it’s quite possible— Merlin, I—” He stops, grunting in frustration. Merlin waits him out, knowing how difficult this is for him. “The truth is,” he finally starts again, “that I’m a little bit in love in you. A lot bit, actually. I still feel like I’m figuring everything else out, but I’m sure about you. I love you, Merlin.”

   Merlin stares back in shock. Never had he ever actually thought that Arthur would say those words. Sure, he had dreamed of it plenty. The Arthur in his dreams had always whispered the words in his ear so confidently. This one, though, felt more real. It was more unsure, and vulnerable, and raw. It was Arthur, through and through, and it made Merlin’s chest flip incessantly.

   “Gods, Arthur.” Merlin breathes, not trusting his voice to speak any louder. “I love you, too. I’ve always loved you.”

   The stress on Arthur’s face from Merlin not yet replying melts away into a dazzling smile, and Merlin can’t help himself but lean in closer, and taste those enticing lips for himself. As Arthur readily kisses him back, arm around his waist tightening and pulling him flush against the King’s chest, Merlin feels the whole world shift into its proper place. He was meant to be here, had been created to be by this man’s side, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Arthur’s eyes are brimming with affection as they slowly pull apart, and Merlin gives a watery laugh. He had never enjoyed a banquet this much, and he doubted he’d ever enjoy another quite like this.

   The night passes pleasantly, the King and Merlin both stealing kisses whenever they felt the fancy. Morgana, Gwen, and their group of trusted knights, watched on with pride. An aura of happiness and contentment hung around the pair as they danced, and laughed, and sipped wine. When they slip out of the hall early together, no one makes a comment. And if Merlin never comes home that night, well, who is Gaius going to tell?

Chapter Text

PROMPT from N/A: Soulmate AU where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soulmate’s skin as well. (This showed up in my Facebook memories a week or so ago, and so here it is.)

   Arthur was sixteen the first time anything ever showed up on his skin. He had been eating breakfast before school, when he glanced down at his arm, and froze. There, written in a messy scrawl, was ‘dr appt’ with ‘3:45’ written below it. He had stared at it long enough for his cereal to start going soggy. Before heading out, he had run back up to his room and grabbed a hoodie to pull on over top his t-shirt. He didn’t want anyone to know that his soulmate had finally made themselves known.

   After that, more dates and times and reminders were written up and down his arms and hands. He got in the habit of always wearing long sleeves. There wasn’t much he could do about anything hastily noted down on the backs of his hands, but on those days, he made sure to walk with his hands firmly on his pockets as often as possible. He didn’t want anyone noticing and asking difficult questions.

   The thing was, Arthur had no interest in meeting his soulmate. Of course he knew he had one. Everyone knew about soulmates. He knew that he was cursing his soulmate to a life without him, and he felt a little guilty about that, but he honestly didn’t care. Well, not too much, anyway. He had seen what had happened to his father when he lost his soulmate. Arthur’s mother had died young, much too young. Arthur had been eight, Morgana just shy of six, when Ygraine had gotten sick. Losing her from their lives had changed their father. He had been shattered for two weeks after she passed, then he became emotionless. He no longer gave his children hugs. He no longer smiled, or laughed, or spent any real time at all with them. The only times they saw their father were family meals, and if one, or both, of them had disappointed him in any way. Arthur didn’t want to risk becoming like his father. He didn’t want to risk finding his soulmate, and then losing them.

   As the years went by, Arthur continued ignoring his soulmate. It’s not like they ever asked any questions. All they ever did was write down various appointments and reminders. Arthur concluded that he obviously had the most forgetful soulmate ever, which he knew would undoubtedly drive him crazy. His friend Lance at least had an artistic soulmate. His arms were constantly covered in elaborate works of art, ranging from flowers to animals to landscapes. Arthur often caught his friend sitting and just watching the lines appear on his arms. He supposed he could he in worse shape though, like his friend Elena. She constantly had renderings of male genitalia all over her skin, in various places depending on the day. He sincerely mourned her future.

   He managed to successfully ignore his soulmate until the morning after his twenty-first birthday. He had been out late with his mates, hopping from pub to pub, and enjoying a pint at each. Somehow, he had kept his arms covered all night, but the next morning, hungover and just desperate for some water, he had staggered into the kitchen with just his flannel bottoms on. After Morgana had berated him about not wearing a shirt in public areas of the house, she had marched over and grabbed his arm. Looking down, Arthur had felt sick. Written, clearly not by his hand, were the words, ‘dentist/11:45.’ He knew then, as Morgana had given him a stern look, that the charade was over.

~~~

   Three weeks after his birthday, he’s sitting in a booth in his favourite pub, Elena sitting across from him. He had known the blonde for basically his entire life. At one point, their father’s had, had an agreement that should they not find their soulmates by the time they both reached twenty-one, they’d be wrangled into an arranged marriage, soulmates be damned. This had been shortly after Arthur’s mother had died, and Arthur got the distinct feeling that his father had just wanted him gone. After all, he looked much too like his late mother. Thankfully, Elena had met her soulmate a year and half ago, a rather distasteful (in Arthur’s opinion) Irishman named Gwaine, effectively putting an end to their fathers’ plans.

   “Well, you are going to try and find them, aren’t you?” Elena asks. She’s holding Arthur’s arm, inspecting the new reminder that showed up that morning. ‘Vet/2:30.’

   “No.” Arthur replies uninterestedly. His friend looks up at him sharply.

   “Why not?” Elena demands. “Its not just you that’s going to live alone, you selfish brat. It’s also whoever your soulmate is. That’s not very fair.”

   Arthur frowns. “I know that, Ellie, but it doesn’t change my mind. I’ve never had any interest in finding my soulmate, and I don’t see why I need to change that now.”

   His friend huffs and drops his hand. She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. Arthur knows that look. It’s the ‘you’re being a terrible person, stop now’ look. Usually, it’s enough to make him back down, but not now. Not on this. This isn’t something to take lightly. It’s his entire future. Meeting his soulmate would irrevocably change his life forever, and he didn’t want change. He didn’t like change. Things were fine just the way they were.

   “There’s no harm in just looking for them. They’re your soulmate, how bad can they really be?” Elena argues. Arthur groans and rubs at his face tiredly.

   “That’s not the point.” He mumbles into his palms.

   “Then what is?” Elena pushes. Arthur loves his friend dearly, he really does, but she could be quite nosy. She had a habit of not knowing when to back off sometimes. Like right now.

   Shaking his head, Arthur drops his hands. “Look, I’m not arguing with you on this. I’m not looking for them, and that’s final.” 

   Elena frowns at him for a moment longer, before softening her features slightly. This was why she was Arthur’s best friend. While she was nosy and pushy, she was also very good at accurately pinpointing whatever issues Arthur had. 

   “Arthur,” she says gently, “you know I love you, and it’s from love that I say you can’t let fear hold you back. You deserve to be happy, and I firmly believe that your soulmate can do that for you.”

   Nothing else is said on the subject after that, for which Arthur is grateful, but he spends the rest of the day thinking about what Elena had said. Maybe she had a point, however small of one it was. He still didn’t necessarily want to meet his soulmate, but he had to admit that some part of him was curious. What were they like? What did they look like? And of course, the most dangerous one of all, were they a boy or a girl? Maybe reaching out just once wouldn’t hurt anything, he decides as he goes to sleep that night.

   The next morning, he berates himself, tells himself that it was a moment of insanity. Of weakness. However, when he glances down at his arm while brewing his morning coffee, he spots what can only be a grocery list. ‘Apples, milk, potatoes.’ He stares at it for a long while, the sound of percolating coffee in the background. After a long internal debate, he grabs a pen and writes ‘red wine’ at the very bottom. Capping the pen, he tosses it on the counter, then goes about mixing his coffee to perfection. 

   He doesn’t think about his actions again until later that evening when he has come home from work. The writing catches his eye as he sheds his coat. His addition to the list is scratched out, and underneath is scrawled ‘you prat’. He had to bite back a smile as he wanders into the kitchen. Without thinking, he grabs the same pen and writes, ‘fine white wine’. It’s an hour later that he happens to glance at his arm again, only to find that addition scratched out too, and ‘NO’ written in felt pen below. He cracks a grin, but doesn’t add anything again. 

~~~

   A week later, Arthur finds something new on his arm. Instead of an appointment, reminder, or some kind of list, it’s rather an option. ‘Peppermint or cinnamon.’ He looks at it questioningly. Why would his soulmate write that? It didn’t make any sense. Were they asking for his opinion? Was it simply something they had to pick from later? Biting his lower lip, he grabs a pen and carefully circles cinnamon. It’s a few hours later that the word ‘thanks!’ appears underneath.

   The next day, to his even greater surprise is, ‘dogs or cats.’ Why would his soulmate suddenly be changing what they’re writing? It hadn’t changed for the last five years. Except, of course, that he had responded once. He had reached out. Shown an interest, as it were. Heart beating fast and heavy in his chest, he circles dogs before he can talk himself out of it, then all but runs to his room and grabs a sweater to shrug on. He keeps it on and avoids looking at his arm for the rest of the day. 

   From there, things just seem to go downhill. He never should have interacted with his soulmate to begin with. After a week, he’s had to choose between burgers and pizza, coffee and tea, summer and winter. As much as he doesn’t want to, he always ends up circling his preferred choice. It’s almost like he can’t help it. It had seemed easy enough to ignore appointment reminders, since they weren’t a direct interaction with him. They weren’t intentionally put there to talk to him. These ‘this or that’ questions seemed to demand an answer, no matter how badly Arthur may want to just ignore them again.

   Unsurprisingly, it’s Morgana who catches him answering another one of his soulmate’s mindless and stupid questions. He’s in the kitchen late one Saturday morning, deliberating between his options of ‘football or rugby’ when he hears someone walk into the room. He jumps, hastily tossing the pen back onto the counter, and tugging his sleeve back down. It’s too late, though, and he knows it. Morgana is grinning at him, smug and satisfied.

   “So, when are you meeting your mystery soulmate?” Morgana asks as she continues on her way into the room. Opening a cupboard, she takes out a mug, and sets about pouring coffee in, mixing in small amounts of cream and sugar. Arthur glares at the side of her head.

   “I’m not.” He growls, fully aware that’s he’s a little red around the ears. He can’t believe that he’d been caught communicating with his soulmate. Especially after the stink he’d thrown about not wanting to find them in the first place. 

  Morgana gives him a shrewd look. “That didn’t look like you were planning to ignore their existence forever. Why not just put you both out of your misery?”

   “You know why.” Arthur lets slip, sounding much more vulnerable than he had wanted to. His sister looks at him carefully. Something seems to soften in her, and her eyes turn more gentle. Leaving the coffee mug on the counter, she approaches him, settling her hand on his arm, right overtop where the newest bit of writing is on his skin.

   “Arthur,” she says, “you can’t live your entire life afraid that you’ll turn into Uther. That behaviour is exactly what will turn you into him. You are a much better man than our father could ever hope to be, but if you let your soulmate suffer just because you’re scared, then I might actually have to kill you.”

   Arthur flinches slightly. He always hated talking about their father. It wasn’t that he was worried the man would suddenly appear in the room, not when he spent almost every waking hour at the office. Even weekends. It was more that it was just a very touchy subject. Uther Pendragon had been grooming his son to take over the entire Pendragon business dynasty since he could talk in semi-full sentences. Trying to please his father was all he had really ever known. This whole soulmate business had just made everything complicated, even before he started communicating with them. Whoever they were.

   “It won’t kill you to just meet them.” Morgana says matter-of-factly. When Arthur opens his mouth to argue, she continues, “People meet their soulmates every day, brother dearest, and they don’t have any issues. Just because Uther is an awful example doesn’t mean the same will happen to you.”

   Without waiting for a reply, she turns on her heel and swipes the mug off the counter and into her hand. Arthur watches her leave the kitchen silently. Just like Elena, Morgana had made some valid points. He scowls and grabs his own mug, lifting it to his lips to drink. He goes to take another, but instead, sets his mug down rather forcefully, almost making the coffee inside slosh over the edges, and picks the pen up again. He tugs his sleeve up angrily, sloppily circles football, and viciously throws the pen back onto the counter, grabs his coffee, and storms from the room. When had his life become such shambles?

~~~

   His laptop dings with an incoming email from Lance. Arthur frowns at it, not used to getting emails from his friends instead of texts. Still looking at the screen curiously, he pats his pockets to find his phone, only to discover that he doesn’t have it. It’s not in any of his pockets, and he groans. He must have left it sitting on the table where he had, had a speedy breakfast before heading out to work. His father didn’t tolerate tardiness, and as the head of his department, Arthur had to set a good example for the employees under him. 

   With a sigh, he opens the email and reads it over. His friend had recently found his soulmate, a lovely woman named Gwen, and he wanted them to meet up for drinks later that week. He wanted to introduce them officially. To his surprise, Arthur feels a pang of longing in his chest. He quickly pushes it aside, and replies that he was free that evening. After sending the email, he goes back to looking over the pile of paperwork on his desk. He looks up again as his laptop dings again. All the new email from Lance says is, ‘The Rising Sun, tonight @ 6. Bring Elena if you want.’

   Arthur sends a quick reply, telling him that he’ll be there, then sends Elena an email. He briefly apologizes for not texting, as he seemed to have forgotten his phone at home, and that if she absolutely had to bring Gwaine along, he was grudgingly welcome to join them. After hitting send, he grabs a pen and writes, ‘Ris. Sun @ 6’ on the back of his wrist. He usually put such things in his phone, but without it, he had no other choice. Elena replies that she’ll be there, and yes, Gwaine was coming. With a roll of his eyes, Arthur goes back to work, not sparing a single thought over the words he had inked onto his skin.

   It’s past six o’clock when Arthur finally steps into the pub. He had gotten held up at work for much longer than he had anticipated. His father had gotten a hold of him right before he was going to leave, demanding that he see him at once. He’d been unable to say no, and had therefore been roped into an impromptu, hour long meeting with his father. 

   “Arthur!” Elena calls. Glancing around, Arthur spots the blonde waving frantically from the corner booth they usually claimed as their own. Gwaine was sitting beside her, arm around her shoulders, and grinning as madly as ever. Lance and Gwen were there, too, snuggled into each other. Arthur thinks he might be sick. As he gets closer, he spots someone else at the table as well. A man he’s never seen before. He’s slender, with short dark hair that looks artfully tousled, curling around his substantial ears, and the sharpest cheekbones that Arthur has ever seen. 

   “Hi. Sorry I’m late. Got hung up at work.” Arthur says as he slips into the empty seat, which just so happens to be across from the new man in their group. Ignoring him, and his startlingly blue eyes, for now, he turns to Gwen and Lance, who are seated beside him. “You must be Gwen. I’m Arthur.” 

   “Hello, Arthur.” Gwen says, extending a hand to shake. Arthur does so, glancing at Lance quickly. The man is smiling, and he looks so happy that Arthur feels a burst of his own happiness for his friend. He knew how much Lance had wanted to find his soulmate. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

   Arthur laughs. “All good things, I hope.” He replies with a wink. Gwen chuckles, sharing a look with Elena across from her.

   “Of course.” She replies cheekily. Arthur rolls his eyes. Why was he friends with these people, again? “Anyway, this is Merlin. He didn’t have any plans for the night, and I didn’t think anyone would mind if he tagged along.”

   Arthur looks back at the man across from him as Gwen gestures in his direction. He smiles shyly at Arthur, which makes Arthur’s heart flutter oddly in his chest. Arthur was no stranger to finding people attractive, but never before had he felt so... drawn to someone he had never met. It felt like more than just a simple appreciation of someone’s good looks.

   “Arthur. Pleasure to meet you.” He says, extending his hand to shake Merlin’s. 

   “Merlin. Likewise.” Merlin reaches out, gripping his hand firmly. As they shake, Arthur notices his sleeve has pulled up a bit past his wrist, showing off the reminder to meet here at six. Before he can let go of Merlin’s hand and tug it back down, Merlin glances down curiously to see what has suddenly captured his attention. As his eyes land on the words, he inhales sharply, promptly letting go. Arthur looks up, curious as to Merlin’s sudden weird behaviour. He has a question poised and ready on his tongue, but it never makes it any further than that. 

   Merlin is staring at him in shock, and Arthur is acutely aware that everyone else at the table is intently watching them, silently bearing witness to whatever was unfolding. Without a word, Merlin pulls his sleeve up. There, written in Arthur’s handwriting, in the exact same spot as he had on his own arm, is ‘Ris. Sun @ 6’. Arthur feels suddenly out of breath. He blinks once, swallows thickly, then wordlessly gets to his feet and all but runs from the building. 

   He’s halfway down the block when he hears footsteps racing after him. His head is spinning, and everything feels both too close and too far away at the same time. Too loud and too quiet. Too blurry and too sharply in focus. 

   “Arthur!” He flinches as he registers Merlin’s voice calling his name. A hand on his arm pulls him to a stop, turning him to face his soulmate. Apparently. The man is looking at him with wide eyes, and an hesitantly hopeful smile on his lips. Arthur stares back mutely. He has no idea what to say, or what to do. He had never wanted to meet his soulmate, but the world clearly had other plans.

   “Arthur?” Merlin repeats his name questioningly. He’s starting to sound worried. Arthur looks away, suddenly feeling guilty as well. He had spent the last five years pretending that Merlin didn’t exist, after all. What do you say to a person after that?

   “I’m sorry.” He blurts out, not even realizing that he was even about to speak.

   Merlin frowns in confusion as he asks, “Sorry for what?”

   Shifting his eyes to stare down at their feet, he replies, “For ignoring the fact that you existed for so long.”

   Silence wraps around them, and Arthur wants to know what Merlin is thinking, but he doesn’t dare look up. He isn’t even sure that he could. He feels frozen in place, unable to move, barely able to even blink or breathe. His stomach flip flops as gentle hands caress his face, easing his eyes up until he’s once again looking into Merlin’s endlessly blue eyes. To his surprise, the man is smiling. He doesn’t look upset or hurt at the fact that Arthur had been pretending he wasn’t his soulmate for so long. If anything, he looks almost amused. 

   “What?” He asks. Merlin’s smile merely grows. He continues to look over Arthur’s face, eyes flicking over every feature, almost like he’s trying to memorize what Arthur looks like. He lets his thumbs glide smoothly over Arthur’s cheeks, and Arthur involuntarily shivers as one swipe glides over the corner of his mouth. 

   At last, Merlin quietly says, “Arthur, I don’t blame you. We’re told our whole lives that finding our soulmate is the most important thing we can ever do, but we’re never told how terrifying it is when you do find them. It doesn’t matter that you were created to be perfect for that person, you still have this fear that you won’t be good enough. That they won’t like you, or you won’t like them. Love isn’t something that can be hunted down, and forced. It’s better if it happens by accident. If you just bump into them on the street, or in a pub when you’re out with your friends.” 

   Arthur watches Merlin grin at him, and feels his chest constrict then relax completely. Something about Merlin put him so at ease that he couldn’t help but smile back. His fears are still there, but they sound muffled in his head, like they’re trying to make themselves known, but Merlin’s words from just now are drowning them out. As Arthur stares at him, Merlin’s grin softens to something smaller, but just as open and friendly, and Arthur just can’t help himself.

   As he leans closer and presses a kiss to Merlin’s lips, he feels a bolt of electricity shoot through him, settling under his skin and buzzing though his veins. It tingles hotly in his fingertips as he reaches a hand up to curl into Merlin’s hair, pulling gently on the strands and making Merlin groan softly into his mouth. He catalogues the reaction in his mind as he slowly pulls away. Merlin keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer than Arthur does, making Arthur’s entire being flutter insistently as he watches those blue eyes slowly open. 

   “What do you say we go back and hang out with our mates?” Merlin says. Arthur wants to  argue, but Merlin just smiles. It’s goofy, and dopey, and fond. And Arthur already adores it. “Maybe we can grab a pint or a bite to eat, just you and me, afterwards?”

   “Yeah, okay.” Arthur agrees. That spark of uncertainty is still there, still trying to make him pull away, still warning him against fully becoming his father, but he manages to ignore it as Merlin leans closer to softly kiss him again. Arthur breathes him in, and slowly breathes out his worries. Not all of them, but enough to mute his insecurities for the moment. Merlin tangles their fingers together, giving his hand a brief squeeze before leading him back the way they had come. 

   Glancing beside him, Merlin grins as he says, “I’m awfully glad that, for once, it wasn’t me who was the forgetful one.”

   Arthur can’t do anything but laugh and agree. How strange it was that everything could change in one single moment, with one single action. And yet, he found that he didn’t want to change a thing. Not one single detail.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from disneyintrovert on Tumblr: A low key angry but mostly emotionally charged ‘Jesus Christ I thought you died’ kiss from Arthur, but it’s just after Merlin’s revealed his magic. Arthur is totally distraught, and Merlin would just be confused as to why he hadn’t been run through yet.

   Arthur usually prides himself in always being ready for anything. He’s always on his toes, ears tuned into the sounds around him, and eyes searching for any potential dangers. This time, however, he’s caught completely off guard. One moment, he had been stepping carefully through the forest, Merlin faithfully trudging along behind him (and subsequently scaring away any potential game), and the next, they’re suddenly surrounded by a dozen men. They attack with such a vicious desperation that Arthur feels blindsided. He hadn’t seen or heard them approach, but they certainly made themselves known now.

   Dropping his crossbow, he pulls his sword from where it’s sheathed at his waist, and immediately engages the man nearest him. A metallic clang rings out as their swords meet, and Arthur grits his teeth as he pushes the other man’s blade away. A second man comes up beside him, swinging hopefully at him, and he has to jump back a step in order to bring his own sword around to block the blow. As he locks blades with this new opponent, the first one jumps back in again.

   Arthur can hear the sounds of Merlin defending himself behind him, and he desperately wants to look back, to make sure that his friend is okay, but he knows that if he takes his eyes off the enemy currently swiping viciously at him, he’ll probably end up dead. Gritting his teeth, he pushes back against the men, successfully managing to get a decent blow in on one of them. As the man stumbles back, holding the now bleeding wound on his side, another man takes his place. 

   Arthur growls in frustration as he continues to fight two men at a time. All he wants to do is get back to Merlin, but the bandits, or whoever they are, seem to have successfully cut them off from each other. Something in the back of his mind tells him that they did this on purpose. They didn’t want Arthur and Merlin to be able to have each other’s back as they so often did during a fight nowadays. His heart lurches as he hears a clang behind him, followed by a string of curses that would normally make him swat his servant over the head. Taking a deep breath, he forces his opponents back, then chances a look behind him.

   Merlin is still fighting his own enemy valiantly, but his arm is bleeding. It’s not bleeding enough to be serious, more a simple superficial wound, but it undoubtedly stings and aches. Arthur’s heart thumps hard in his chest at the sight of Merlin‘s blood, but doesn’t have time to help him. Once these men are dispatched he can see to Merlin’s wounds. Turning back, his stomach drops. 

   Out of the trees stream another half a dozen men to join the ten or so that have already made their presence known. The King grumbles under his breath as he continues to parry blow after blow, new men jumping in every so often in an attempt to exhaust him. He’s not too worried about it working on him, but he is worried about Merlin. He isn’t a trained fighter. He isn’t a knight. He complains when he has to carry several buckets of bath water up the stairs. 

   Another shout behind him makes him look back. Thankfully, this time it isn’t Merlin. Instead, it’s the man he can been fighting. Merlin looks up at him and smiles. It’s a short moment, barely even a second long, but it’s just long enough for one of the bandits to jump in and slice ferociously at Arthur’s leg. The King shouts, more in surprise than pain, and lifts his sword to force the man back. He doesn’t get the chance, however, because Merlin chooses that moment to let out a yell of anger.

   “NO!” The man’s voice is loud, and booming, and powerful. It’s unlike anything that Arthur has ever heard come from his servant before. He turns shocked eyes his way, and as he settles his gaze on the man, he feels his breath leave his lungs. 

   Merlin is holding his hand out, stringing nonsensical world together in an unintelligible sentence, and then his eyes are glowing gold. The men surrounding Arthur are thrown backwards, some hitting trees, others simply landing in heaps on the ground. None of them get back to their feet. Arthur stumbles back a few steps in shock, and trips over his feet. He lands hard on the unforgiving ground, the impact jarring up his spine and making his teeth clack together loudly. He shakes his head, reorients himself, and looks back at his servant. 

   The man is standing here, not moving. He’s merely staring back at Arthur helplessly, eyes so incredibly sorry that it twinges Arthur’s heart. That twinge turns into a painful twist as one of the last few bandits left on their feet approaches Merlin from behind.

   “Filthy sorcerer!” The man roars, lunging forward with his sword held out steady. The world seems to slow down as Arthur watches the scene unfold before him. He’s frozen in place, barely able to even breathe, as he helplessly watches the man get closer, watches the tip of his sword connect with the back of Merlin’s left shoulder. Merlin’s eyes widen as he feels the impact, face going pale as the blade keeps going until it’s completely through his shoulder. He looks up at Arthur, meeting his eyes again, for a brief moment before everything whiplashes back into full speed.

   “That’s what you get.” The man growls near Merlin’s ear before stepping back and lifting his booted foot. Placing the sole on Merlin’s lower back, he shoves Merlin away as he pulls his sword back. Merlin stumbles forward, tripping over his feet and landing on his hands and knees. His left arm gives out under his weight, and he lands in a heap in the dirt with a pained yelp. The man looks triumphant as he takes another step back, gazing down at Merlin with a crazed sort of hunger in his eyes. The smug look is what spurs Arthur back into movement.

   He’s back on his feet, sword firmly in hand, before the man even realizes that he’s moved. Arthur has him run through before he even has a chance to lift his sword in defence. He stares at Arthur in shock as the King glares ferociously back at him. He looks confused, like he doesn’t know why the King of Camelot should be this furious over a sorcerer. He doesn’t know that Arthur’s heart is currently breaking into pieces in his chest. If Merlin was...

   Arthur shoves the man away, quickly turning to dispatch any of the men left. Those who had not been hit by Merlin’s spell had left pretty quickly, especially once Arthur was back on his feet. Arthur takes a short moment to catch his brief before making his way over to Merlin. 

   The man is lying on the ground where he had fallen, but Arthur can hear his fast and restless breathing. Blood had already soaked through the back of his tunic and jacket, and the sight makes Arthur feel sick. Kneeling by his servant’s side, he slowly places his hands on him, and tries to help him roll over onto his other side. No sense letting him lay in the dirt on his injured shoulder. Merlin groans as Arthur moves him, blinking blearily up into the sunshine as Arthur turns his head slightly. 

   “Hey, idiot.” Arthur says, something inside his chest just wanting to see Merlin smile. Merlin trembles slightly, giving him a wan smile. It barely even counts as a smile, but Arthur still takes it, locks it away inside his mind to remember later. 

   “‘Rth’r.” He says, speech a little slurred through his gritted teeth. “You’re okay.” 

   Arthur glances down at his leg, still smarting somewhat. It’s nothing compared to the still oozing wound on Merlin’s shoulder. His own wound has pretty much stopped bleeding, just down to the merest trickle. Merlin’s, however, was still bleeding quite badly. He had to get back to Camelot, Arthur just isn’t sure he can make the trip. He’s already so pale, brow glistening with sweat slightly. 

   The King wants to reply, he really does, he just doesn’t know what to say. His mind is running a mile a minute. He feels angry, hurt, scared. He feels so many things that he isn’t even sure where to start with unravelling them and figuring out what they are. Merlin’s smile slips from his face as he groans in pain. Arthur’s heart twists in his chest again, pulling thin and throbbing. 

   “Merlin.” He says as the man’s eyes slip shut. When he gets no response, he repeats his name louder. “Merlin!”

   He takes a moment, holding his breath as he allows Merlin a chance to respond. When he doesn’t, he shakes his good shoulder. All that does is make Merlin huff out a long breath. Dread trickles down Arthur’s spine as he pats Merlin’s cheek gently, then a bit harder when he still gets no response. No retort. No complaint. Nothing. 

   “Merlin!” Arthur shouts, voice starting to sound more panicky than Arthur could ever recall hearing it in the past. There’s still blood pooling from the wound, collecting in the dirt underneath him. He rears back, hands reaching to tug at his own tunic. He rips strips off, dropping them in the dirt in order to pull at Merlin’s tunic. As the fabric pulls free from the wound, he realizes just how soaked they are. Bile rises in his throat, and he has to swallow thickly before grabbing the strips of his tunic and placing one balled up strip on both the entry and exit points of Merlin’s wound. He settles Merlin onto his back, and presses hard on the front of his shoulder, simultaneously putting pressure on both parts of his bleeding shoulder.

   “C’mon, Merlin.” Arthur mutters under his breath, pressing firmly even as his hands shake with something he knows is fear. He can’t lose Merlin. Not like this. Not when they clearly had so many things to talk about. He shifts his eyes from his hands to Merlin’s face. He’s still so ghostly pale, and for a moment, all Arthur can do is stare at him. 

   Suddenly, from one moment to the next, Merlin is inhaling sharply, hands that were previously lying limp by his sides rising to push forcefully at Arthur’s chest. The movement surprises the King, and as Merlin’s insistent hands keep shoving him backwards, he allows himself to fall back into the dirt. 

   “What are you doing, you idiot? You’re bleeding!” Arthur yells, even as he starts to scramble back to push Merlin back down. However, now that he’s no longer being held down, Merlin sits up, wild eyed and panting. Arthur watches as the bloody strips of his ruined tunic fall free from Merlin’s shoulder, and he once again stares in shock. There’s still smeared blood across his skin, his tunic and jacket damp with it. There’s still a ragged hole through the fabric. However, where there was previously an open wound, there’s now only a faint, white line of a scar. ‘Like magic.’

   Arthur rears back again, mouth falling open as he lets his eyes stare, fixated on Merlin’s skin. Merlin is silent, except for his heaving breaths, but he’s alive. He’s upright, and breathing, and blinking, and staring at Arthur like he isn’t sure if he should get up and run, or not. 

   The sight of Merlin mostly okay has Arthur moving before he even fully realizes that he’s doing so. He shuffles closer through the blood splattered dirt, curls his hand around the back of Merlin’s head, and kisses him firmly on the lips. He hears Merlin squeak in surprise at the contact, and merely presses closer, kissing his friend with a sort of desperation that he’s never felt before. Relief boils over in his chest. A sudden release of fear that has him feeling shaky and out of sorts. As Merlin tentatively starts to kiss him back, Arthur pushes even more of his overwhelming emotions outwards. Hurt, anger, confusion. He licks past Merlin’s lips, letting his tongue curl hotly with his servant’s for a moment longer before pulling away. 

   Scrambling to his feet, Arthur takes several steps away. As abruptly as he had left, he turns back and glares at Merlin. The man is staring back at him, a little slack jawed, and eyes a little dazed. He says nothing, just looks up at his King from his spot in the dirt, blinking slowly every now and then. 

   “What is wrong with you, throwing yourself in danger like that?” Arthur finally yells. He runs his hands back through his hair, taking handfuls and tugging harshly on the strands. “I thought you were going to die, Merlin! And then you just conveniently magic yourself all better? Why didn’t you start with that, you utter imbecile?”

   He turns again and stalks away a few paces. When he turns back, Merlin is still just sitting there, looking up at him mutely. Arthur grits his teeth, closing his eyes and counting to ten slowly in his head. When he’s done, he counts to twenty instead, his unruly emotions still bubbling hotly in his chest. Images of Merlin lying motionless on the ground flash behind his closed eyelids, the pool of Merlin’s blood in the dirt making him feel queasy. He snaps his eyes open.

   Finally, still sounding utterly dazed, Merlin says, “My head is still attached to my shoulders.”

  Arthur stares at him incredulously for a moment. “Is it?” He bursts out, making Merlin flinch slightly. “I really wasn’t sure that it was, considering you don’t appear to be using it at all!”

   Whirling around, Arthur lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, eyes closed against the looming headache. He tries to steady his breathing, regulating the inhales and exhales until he feels less shaky. At least a little, anyway. He hears Merlin slowly getting to his feet behind him, but doesn’t move. His heart is still racing in his chest, his senses slowly alerting him to the fact that he had, in fact, kissed his friend, rather forcefully, and he really didn’t mind the idea of doing it again.

   He startles slightly as a hand settles on his right shoulder, a soft and familiar voice saying in his ear, “I’m sorry. About scaring you, and about my—” Merlin’s voice seems to stick in his throat, and he clears it loudly. “About my magic.”

   Arthur shoulders slump, in defeat or relief, he isn’t sure. He has to assume that Merlin’s has been hiding his magic since the day they met. He knows he should feel angry about that, and in a way, he is. However, he mostly feels hurt. Hurt that Merlin didn’t trust him. Hurt that maybe it was more just that Merlin never wanted to tell him. Hurt that he cares for Merlin more than Merlin cares for him. 

   “I wanted to tell you, Arthur, really, I just—” He stops. Arthur slowly drops his hand, turning his head to meet Merlin’s glistening eyes. 

   “You thought I would turn you over to my father.” He says tonelessly. To his surprise, Merlin shakes his head vehemently. 

   “No! Well, maybe at first, but not for a while. I hated lying to you, but I knew that telling you would hurt you, and I didn’t want to do that.” He breaks off for a moment as he looks away, chewing on his lower lip anxiously. “I realize that by lying I’ve hurt you anyway, but I just didn’t want to put you on a position where you had to choose between me and your father, or your people. I’m not worth that. All I’ve ever wanted to do was just keep you safe.”

   Arthur exhales shakily. The longer he sees Merlin upright, and walking, and talking, the more his constricting chest relaxes, the easier he can breathe. He looks around at the men still lying motionless around them, and wonders vaguely if they’re dead, or just unconscious. He honestly isn’t sure which one he would prefer. Finally, he looks back at Merlin, still looking so worried and unsure of himself. 

   “Merlin, like it or not, when you stepped foot in Camelot, you became one of my people. Granted, the magic makes things a little more difficult, and we will be having a very long conversation about that, but, to me, that doesn’t make you any less worthy of being protected.”

   Merlin smiles, a little wobbly. “Does that mean you’re not angry?” He sounds so pitifully hopeful that Arthur snorts out an involuntary laugh.

   He grips Merlin’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes as he replies, “I’m furious, Merlin, for many reasons. Right now, I want to know what exactly happened here.”

   To his surprise, Merlin blushes as his eyes flick around them. “Yeah, my magic is a little overprotective of you. It saw you bleeding, and just, didn’t like it.”

   “Just your magic?” Arthur asks, head tilted slightly. Merlin huffs.

   “Fine, I didn’t like it either.” Merlin admits, his light flush deepening to a darker red. Arthur looks it over with keen interest. His heart flutters in his chest, and he has to forcefully stamp down on the feeling before it bubbled over completely. Merlin still had a lot of explaining to do, and Arthur would insist on getting answers to all of his questions, but that could wait for later. For now, he was okay. His colour was quite obviously returning. The cold sweat that had broken out on his brow is gone. His blood soaked clothes, and the ragged strips of Arthur’s tattered tunic, are all the evidence that’s really left from what had happened here. Arthur is almost surprised at how relieved he is about that. He didn’t know what he would do if Merlin had gotten seriously injured. He would clearly have to take numerous careful steps to keep Merlin safe once they returned to Camelot, at least until he could potentially do something about the ban on magic.

   “Hey.” He says, gaining Merlin’s attention again. “I want you to know, that to me, you are worth it. You said you weren’t, but— you’re wrong.” He clears his throat awkwardly, already moving to take a step back from him. He doesn’t get far before Merlin wraps his fingers around his wrist, and pulls him closer again. He opens his mouth, ready to ask why, but his words get kissed away before he has a chance to speak them. 

   Pulling away slowly, Merlin rests his forehead against the King’s. “I have a lot of things to tell you. You may want to hold judgement on your opinion until after I’m finished.” 

   Arthur shakes his head as best he can in their current position. “Nothing you say will change my mind. Of course, I reserve the right to load you up with as many chores as I can think of for the foreseeable future, though. Punishment for lying to me, and all that.”

   Merlin snorts, mutters “prat” under his breath, and pulls away fully. His eyes are still anxious, but he’s smiling hopefully. Arthur returns it, at least he thinks he does. He’s still feeling a little uncertain, but the flickering light in his chest is telling him that they’ll be okay. He can only hope that it’s right. 

Chapter Text

   Every morning, at 6:30 sharp, Merlin's alarm would blare out into the room. Gwen, his best friend, had tried to convince him to use a fun alarm tune, or a song that really got him motivated, but Merlin has gone for the simple, default tone instead. His argument being that he didn't want to use a song he enjoyed, only to learn to associate that song with waking up and end up hating it. Gwen has merely rolled her eyes and called him a buzz-kill. 

   After silencing his alarm, he would never hit snooze, he would roll out of bed and stretch out his still sleep infused muscles. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he would change into his jogging clothes then head out for his daily 5k run. Gwen thought he was crazy. 

   This particular morning was no different than any other before it. He'd had the same routine for roughly nine months, and nothing at all had ever changed. Slipping out into the early summer morning, he locked his front door and made sure to put his key in the special zippered pocket in his shorts that he had paid extra for. Key secure, he pops his ear buds in and makes his way down to the sidewalk. He glances at his watch quickly before taking a quick breath and starting to jog past the still dark homes along his street. Few people, he's discovered, are ever up this early.

   The man has a set route that he always takes, and he sets off in that direction. It had taken him a few different routes early on to find the perfect one. This one runs along the river that cuts through town, meaning that it's generally a lot greener than the other paths around the area. Merlin loves being surrounded by the greenery. He finds it relaxing and rejuvenating. 

   A small smile pulls at the corners of his lips as he steps off the sidewalk and continues on under the bridge. The brief moment in the shade, instead of the early morning sun, causes a dusting of goosebumps to erupt along his forearms. He ignores the cool breeze and keeps moving. After emerging on the other side, he follows the winding path, grateful for the growth of the tall trees to help block the sun rising directly in front of him. The run back is always more pleasant due to the fact that he isn't getting blinded incessantly. At least, that's how Merlin feels. The one and only time that Gwen had ever accompanied him, she had exclaimed that the way back was the worst cause her lungs and muscles felt like they were on fire. Merlin had never really minded the burn that came with a good, hard run.

   Merlin makes sure to stay to the right hand side of the path as he rounds the blind corner just after the bridge. He had never run into anyone else before, but there was always a first time for everything. This particular morning happened to be that first time. As he rounded the corner, a large, fluffy, panting golden retriever came careening toward him. Merlin had never been afraid of dogs, but he did have a healthy respect for them. As soon as his eyes land on the golden blur, he slows to a halt, not wanting to give the dog a reason to chase him. He expects the dog to stop, but instead, it charges right into him, at just the right height to smack right into his knees and send him tumbling backwards and onto the pavement.

   He hisses as his tailbone connects roughly with the solid ground. The dog, now at eye level, promptly crawls onto him and starts frantically licking every inch of his face that it can reach. Merlin lifts a hand to ward off the slobbery attack just as he hears a man's voice call out, "Aithusa!"

   The dog's ears perk up as it pulls away from Merlin's face. He takes the opportunity to catch his breath, also looking up as he hears the same voice call out the dog's name once again. Instead of following the call, the retriever sits down beside Merlin, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. It's intently watching the small hill ahead, though, so that's where Merlin focuses his attention. Sure enough, about a minute later, a man comes rushing over the top, steps faltering as he catches sight of the dog beside Merlin. Even from this distance, he can see the relief of finding his pet rush through him.

   As the man hurries over, Merlin picks himself up off the ground, dusting off his palms and backside. "Bloody hell, Aithusa!" The man pants as he slowly comes to a halt in front of the pair. Merlin raises his eyebrows at the man's choice of words. Reaching down, the man clips the leash in his hands to the collar around the dog's neck. "Sorry, mate." He says, turning to Merlin. "I am so sorry! Morgana never told me not to let her monster off the leash. Bugger! Are you okay?"

   Merlin is still reeling slightly from the discovery that this mystery man's eyes are bright blue, so blue they should be fake, that he almost misses the question. "Uhm, yes. Yes, I do believe I am alright. No lasting damage." He finally replies, trying to offer up a reassuring smile. The man runs a hand over his face as he huffs out a breath. Merlin notices that his chest is still heaving, most likely from his chase after his dog.

   "Damn. You sure? I am so giving Morgs a piece of my mind when she gets back." His voice fades into an annoyed growl at the end that Merlin finds way too attractive. He must notice the confusion on Merlin’s face, because he takes a deep breath before launching into an explanation. "This is my little sister’s dog. She had to leave for a couple weeks for some school thing, I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention, and who better to look after her mutt than her big brother?" He stops to huff in annoyance. "Course, it wasn't till last night when she dropped Aithusa off that she informed me that the damn thing needed, and expected, a run every morning." He once again pauses to glare down at the practically grinning dog. "I'm Arthur, by the way." He adds, holding out a hand to shake. Merlin grips it firmly and feels his skin tingle.

   "Merlin." He replies. He notices Arthur’s eyebrows shoot you to his hairline. "Trust me, I get that a lot. I guess my mother had a sense of humour when she named me." Arthur nods, and blushes in embarrassment as he realizes that they're still holding hands. Merlin feels a small jolt of disappointment as Arthur pulls away. He watches Arthur shift slightly, and has a sudden desire to not let their interaction end just yet. "I have just started my morning run if you would like to join me."

   Arthur’s eyes snap up to meet his at the suggestion, and he's about to apologize before Arthur breaks out into a toothy grin. "Yeah, I'd like that." Merlin feels himself return the bright smile with one of his own. Being polite, and because he honestly does want to talk to Arthur, he pulls his earbuds off from around his neck where he had draped them when Aithusa had sent him flying. He carefully stuffs them into his pocket with his iPhone, then turns to Arthur and nods. 

   "Okay. Let's go." The pair starts off, Aithusa immediately pulling off ahead of the blond. Much to Arthur’s dismay, Merlin speeds up to match the dog's pace. It's not that he isn't in good shape, cause he is. He works out six ways a week at the gym down the street from his place. It's more that he doesn't run. His sister had been trying for years to get Arthur out running with her, and was always unsuccessful. Leaving the dog with him had clearly been a clever way to get him out to meet his much needed cardio requirements, and before bumping into the insanely hot, dark haired man now running beside him, it hadn't been that bad. He could curse at the dog, tell her to slow down, and not feel bad about himself because there were no witnesses. Now there was. And he'd be damned if he let himself look weak in front of Merlin. 

   They've only been going for about seven minutes when Arthur’s lungs and leg muscles start begging for him to stop. He tries to push through it, but starts to find it increasingly more difficult, especially when Aithusa catches the scent of something up ahead in the distance and speeds up. 

   "Bugger!" He groans, digging his feet in as best he can and jarring the dog to a stop. Merlin slows down much more gracefully and turns to look behind him, finding Arthur hunched over with his hands on his knees, panting worse than the dog. He looks up, blue eyes meeting blue, and grimaces. "Sorry." He wheezes out pathetically, wincing at the weak sound of his voice. 

   "You don’t need to apologize, Arthur. Are you alright?" He inquires as he backtracks to stand beside the other man. Arthur nods determinedly before straightening up slightly. 

   “Yeah, yeah, I'm good." He replies breathlessly. Merlin arches an eyebrow, clearly not believing him, and damn, if that doesn't make him even more attractive. He blushes at the thought and averts his gaze to the dog, who is now sitting patiently and gazing back at him in curiosity. Merlin shuffles restlessly beside him, and he immediately feels guilty over ruining the other man's run. 

   "Look, mate, I'm sorry. You can go on ahead if you like. You're clearly better at this than I am." He gives Merlin a sheepish look. Merlin bites his lip and looks on ahead, up the path, and debates his options. Reaching a decision, he looks back at Arthur, and gives him an inquiring look. 

   "I have the day off, so I can finish my run later. I merely got up early out of habit." Arthur is giving him a horrified look that makes him chuckle. "How would you feel about packing it in and going out for coffee instead?" He asks. He glances around for a moment to get his bearings before levelling his gaze back on the still panting blond. "I know a dog friendly cafe nearby. One of my good friends owns it." He adds, grinning slightly at the thought of Gwaine’s reaction to the golden retriever now whining just slightly.

   Arthur gives him a startled look before recovering quickly and nodding enthusiastically. "Sure. That sounds awesome, actually. Lead the way." He straightens up fully and takes one more deep breath. Merlin smiles shyly, a light pink blush spreading over his cheeks. Arthur takes in the sight and marvels at how beautiful Merlin looks all flushed like that.

   "It's this way." He finally says, gesturing back the way they had come. The two walk side by side in a comfortable silence, Merlin turning them down a dirt trail cut through a sparser patch of trees. They emerge on the other side and find themselves in an empty parking lot. Across the street is an empty, but cozy looking cafe with cartoon dogs hand drawn in the windows. The only sign of life inside is the lone barista, dancing around to music only he can currently hear. Merlin smiles widely at the sight of his friend. Arthur starts to move forward, but Merlin stops him with a hand on his arm.

   "I must warn you, Arthur, that I don’t often show up here with other people. Gwaine is likely to get very... overbearing." Arthur’s eyes flick over Merlin’s face before simply shrugging with a smile.

   "I think I can survive." He says cheekily, once again starting toward the street. The minute the pair step through the doors, Gwaine launches toward them. Before even saying hello, he drops to his knees and ruffles the dog's ears. Aithusa basks in the attention, lifting a paw to bat at his legs as he straightens up. 

   "Well, well, well. Merls, you never told me you had a new boy toy." He grins, eyes looking over Arthur as they both blush furiously, sneaking quick glances at each other. Merlin clears his throat, cursing the burning in his cheeks, as he squares his shoulders and looks his friend in the eyes.

   "Arthur is not my boyfriend. We only just met this morning." Gwaine opens his mouth to reply, but Merlin cuts him off before he can. "Can I get my usual, please?" He asks. "And whatever Arthur would like." Gwaine frowns slightly, but nods all the same before taking Arthur’s order. As he reluctantly leaves to go make their drinks, Merlin leads them to a corner table. Arthur hooks the leash to the clip on the wall, then settles his arms on the table, hands clasped tightly together. 

   "So, you have interesting friends." He jokes. Merlin groans and covers his face with his hands. He can feel his embarrassment coursing through his whole body, and settling even hotter in his cheeks. "Hey, it's okay. You did warn me." Merlin pulls his hands away and gives Arthur a grateful smile. It disappears, however, as Gwaine approaches and places two steaming mugs of coffee on the table.

   "There you go, lovebirds. It's on the house." He gives them an obvious wink before slinking away, wearing a shit-eating smirk. Merlin glares daggers after his retreating back. Arthur pulls his focus back by placing a hand gently over his on the table. Merlin’s head whips around to face him again, eyes flicking between their hands and Arthur’s face.

   "Like I said," Arthur says with a soft smile, "it's fine." Merlin feels himself relax at Arthur’s reassurances and lets himself smiles shyly back. From there, they slip into easy conversation, interrupted only by Arthur getting up to get a bowl of water for Aithusa. They ignore the smug smirks that Gwaine shoots them consistently, and only get up to leave as the brunch rush arrives. They walk closer together as they exit the building, shoulders and arms brushing slightly.

   "So," Arthur says as they step fully out into the now decidedly warm summer morning, "I'm kinda hoping that was a date, and I'd really like to see you again. How about dinner tonight?" He turns a hopeful look in Merlin’s direction. There's a hint of fear in his eyes that disappears as Merlin smiles broadly.

   "I would very much enjoy that, Arthur." The blond grins back, and before really thinking it through, steps forward and presses a chaste kiss to Merlin’s lips. He pulls away just as fast, suddenly realizing what he did, but Merlin chases his mouth, sliding a hand behind his head to keep him there as their lips work slowly against each other's. When they finally separate, Arthur feels out of breath again. Merlin grins widely before taking a step backward. 

   “I'll see you tonight, Arthur." He says as he takes another step. Arthur grins back.

   "Text me your address and I'll pick you up. Don't dress too fancy." Merlin nods, already feeling an excited buzz in his veins. His grin is still firmly in place as they part ways and he pulls his phone out to text the man. They had already swapped numbers in the cafe. His lips are still tingling as he follows the sidewalks through town back home. His smile grows even wider as his phone buzzes and he sees a text from Arthur.

From: Arthur, 10:46 AM
👍 see you tonight, Merlin

   Normally, Merlin likes to run alone, and when everyone else is still in bed, but he can't help but be happy and grateful that he had run into Aithusa and Arthur this morning. Maybe he'd be able to make a permanent running partner out of the blond in the future. The thought makes his heart flutter. Yes, today was well worth the early morning.

Chapter Text

   Merlin didn't usually do this. And by ‘this’ he means waking up in a stranger's bed after a night of heavy partying. His close friend, Gwaine, had just gotten the promotion he'd been working so hard for, so naturally they had to celebrate. What started as a small get together of friends quickly turned into a nightclub with bass heavy music and sweaty bodies pressed together on the dance floor. Now normally, Merlin wouldn't dance. However, once he had a few drinks in his system, he found himself persuaded. That led to meeting him.

   Merlin had been attracted the moment he laid eyes on the man. At first, he had been disappointed because he had been with an elegant, dark headed girl for quite awhile. This changed, though, when he caught sight of said girl making out passionately with a petite brunette in the corner. That left Blue Eyes (that's what Merlin referred to him as in his head) all alone at the bar. He had taken a deep breath, then marched over with fake confidence to talk to him. That led to the dance floor again. 

   The two men ended up pressed together by the other gyrating bodies around them. Neither had minded, especially not Merlin. The music was too loud to talk, so they had skipped the names and merely proceeded to dance. That led to heavy grinding, hot neck kisses, and later full on making out right there on the dance floor. They had left together shortly after that.

   The pair managed to control themselves as they waited for a cab. Once one got hailed, the blue eyed man had breathlessly given his address, and off they went. A few kisses were shared, but something about kissing in front of the sober cab driver had kept Merlin a little more contained. That went out the window as soon as the apartment's front door was securely closed and locked behind them.

   "I'm Arthur." The man said roughly, voice muffled from where his lips were currently attacking Merlin’s throat. Merlin had let out a wanton moan, before struggling to reply.

   "M-Merlin." He managed to get out. Arthur hummed in reply, to show he had heard, before once again attaching his lips to Merlin’s. From there, things went as expected, which led to Merlin waking up naked in another man's bed. And not just that. Said other man was spooning him from behind, arm wrapped around his waist and securely pinning him to the bed. There was no escape. Not that he necessarily wanted to. The guy was hot.

   He's pulled from his thoughts as he feels the man behind him start to stir awake. 'Arthur.' Merlin reminds himself. He hears a deep groan from behind him before the weight around his waist disappears along with the warmth along his back. Merlin takes the chance to roll over onto his back, turning his head more to study the man beside him. Arthur still has his eyes closed as he furiously rubs his face. Soon, though, he opens them, and those bright blue orbs meet Merlin’s own rich blue ones. He was blessed with a radiant smile.

   "Morning, Merlin." Arthur said, and holy crap his rough morning voice should be illegal. Merlin has to take a discreet, deep breath before being able to reply.

   "Good morning, Arthur." He was rewarded with yet another white, toothy grin. To his surprise, Arthur leaned closer and sealed their lips together in a short, sweet kiss. His cheeks were tinted pink as he pulled away.

   "You want breakfast?" He inquires, readying himself to get up. Merlin contemplates the offer for a moment before smiling gratefully and giving Arthur a soft nod of his head.

   "That sounds lovely, Arthur. Thank you." He watches shamelessly as Arthur throws back the covers and sits up. His eyes roam over the naked expanse of his back, and he blushes slightly at the deep, red, angry looking scratch marks that he had clearly left there last night. Arthur must somehow sense Merlin’s uncomfortableness, because he shoots a sly grin over his shoulder.

   "Don't worry about it. I like it rough. Hate it when people treat me like a fragile doll." With that said, he gets to his feet, obviously taking his time in finding clothes to pull on. Eventually, he settles on the jeans he was wearing last night, no underwear and no shirt. He pauses at the bedroom door to look at Merlin properly. "Meet me in the kitchen when you're ready." With that, he's gone and closing the door behind himself. 

   Merlin falls back onto the extremely plush bed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes as he groans. He doesn't have many 'one night stand' experiences, but he's fairly certain that this is not how they are supposed to go. However, it's not like he's exactly complaining. It's more that he's in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. Seriously, who the hell catches feelings for the guy they just met and had sex with?

   With one more deep breath, Merlin slowly sits up, pushing the covers down to pool around his lap. He surveys the room, trying to find his discarded clothing that had been scattered in haste the night before. Merlin heaves a sigh as he gets to his feet properly, stooping to grab his briefs and tug them up over his hips. Next come his jeans, followed closely by his shirt. One last fortifying breath later, and Merlin opens the door, thanking the 'powers that be' that the hinges don't shriek as the door opens. He makes a quick stop in the bathroom, where he makes a futile attempt at taming his hair, before following the enticing smells to the kitchen.

   As he rounds the corner, he spots Arthur at the stove, cooking bacon and scrambled eggs. Merlin’s mouth practically waters as he takes in the smell. And the scene. Arthur is swaying his hips a little, in time with the song he is humming ever so softly. Merlin can feel the smile tugging at his lips while something tingles in his chest. He slowly approaches the other man, making sure to clear his throat to avoid startling him by his presence.

   Arthur looks over his shoulder and shoots Merlin a big grin. "I hope you like bacon and eggs." He says. "It's kind of one of the only things I know how to cook." His smile turns apologetic, only making Merlin’s own smile grow, now fully reaching his eyes.

   "Bacon and eggs sound delightful." Merlin assures the blond, who once again flashes a smile before turning back to the stove. He continues his humming, but keeps his hips still now that he knowingly has an audience, much to Merlin’s dismay. Not too long after, Arthur is dishing up breakfast, turning the stove top elements off, and bringing the two loaded plates to the table. He sets one down in front of Merlin, along with a fork and knife, doing the same at the spot across the table from him.

   "Do you want something to drink? I can put coffee on." Arthur offers, hovering by his chair, but not actually sitting yet. Merlin is torn between really loving the idea of a hot cup of coffee, and simply being polite and refusing so Arthur can sit and eat. Before he really has a chance to decide, Arthur moves toward the counter again. "I'll put coffee on."

   Merlin once again finds himself watching Arthur’s every move. He is still confused as to why Arthur hasn't simply thrown him out, the way most one night stands generally go. After a heated night of mind-blowing sex, one does not usually offer breakfast and coffee the next morning. He snaps out of his thoughts as Arthur returns to the table, finally sinking down into his chair and shovelling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Merlin blushes slightly as their eyes lock, fully aware that he was caught staring. Averting his eyes, he takes his own, much smaller, bite of eggs. He moans his appreciation as flavours explode in his mouth. Arthur chuckles from across the table. 

   "I make a mean batch of scrambled eggs, eh?" He asks with a cheeky grin. Merlin can only bring himself to nod as he takes another bite. A few minutes pass in easy silence, the two men satisfied with just filling their empty stomachs. Soon enough, the coffee finishes brewing and Arthur gets back on his feet. 

   "How do you take your coffee, Merlin?" He asks from where he is pulling two ceramic mugs from a cupboard. Merlin has to quickly swallow a mouth-watering bite of bacon in order to reply.

   "A small spoonful of sugar and a little cream." Arthur nods and proceeds to make both mugs the same way. Merlin gives him a grateful smile as the man hands him a warm mug. Arthur returns it easily.

   "Thank you, Arthur." Merlin murmurs as he brings the mug to his lips and blows softly on the steaming liquid. Lifting his eyes, he locks gazes with Arthur as he takes a cautious sip. Sighing in satisfaction, he sets the mug down. Looking over his now empty plate, Merlin takes a deep breath to ask the question that's been really burning on his mind since the blond first offered breakfast.

   "Arthur." He starts. Arthur hums in reply, shifting his gaze back to Merlin. "Why are you doing this?" Merlin lifts his eyes, only to find Arthur’s confused ones. He gestures to the table to help clarify. "Why cook me breakfast and make me coffee, which is perfect, by the way. I just don't understand. Why not simply kick me out with a hollow promise to call me later, like most people?"

   Across the table, Arthur narrows his eyes in thought, chewing on his lower lip as he studies Merlin intently. "Because you're different." He finally replies. "Because, from the moment I laid eyes on you last night in the club, I knew that I wanted more than one night with you. Something about you makes my whole body scream to not let you go." By the time Arthur finishes, he has a thoughtful look on his face while Merlin can feel his cheeks burning bright red. 

   "R-really?" Merlin chokes out, not sure if he should believe the blue-eyed beauty or not. No one has ever said anything remotely similar to him in all his twenty-six years of existing on this Earth. Arthur now breaks out into a shy smile, a faint pink now flooding his cheeks as well. 

   "Yes, Merlin. Really. Something about you is very special. I can feel it every time I look at you." The blond’s voice has lost it's earlier confidence. How he sounds unsure, and vulnerable, even bashful. Merlin doesn't think he's ever seen something so perfect in his life. Reaching across the table, he takes one of Arthur’s hands in his, pulling the other man's gaze back up. He feels butterflies explode in his stomach as blue eyes once again meet blue.

   "Thank you, Arthur. That really does mean a lot to hear you say that. No one has ever said such kind things to me before. For the record, I feel the same about you." He feels his heart flutter madly as Arthur once again flashes him a 1000-watt smile. It's all white teeth, flushed cheeks, and adorable eye crinkles.

   "Really?" Arthur breathes excitedly. Merlin nods, making the blond once again bite down on his lower lip to try and control the strong grin wanting to break his face in two. "In that case," he adds, voice sounding almost rushed, "how about going out for dinner with me tonight? I knows it generally customary to have dinner before sleeping with someone, but it's a little late for that."

   Merlin laughs, eyes twinkling as he takes in Arthur’s hopeful expression. "I would enjoy that, Arthur. Very much. What time shall I meet you, and where?" Arthur gets a mischievous grin on his face as he rises to his feet, rounding the table to take both of Merlin’s hands in his. Pulling him up, he leans in to whisper in his ear. 

   "Why don't we just go together?" His voice is low and hot, and want immediately pools in Merlin’s gut as he takes in the true implications behind Arthur’s words. He struggles to keep his voice even, but his body betrays him as he trembles slightly.

   "That sounds like a much better idea." He replies roughly, before angling their faces together and kissing Arthur’s still red lips. Arthur moans softly against him, bringing his hands around Merlin’s hips to pull them flush against each other. 

   Merlin has to admit that this is the best non-one night stand he's ever had. Forever.

Chapter Text

   A soft whining pulls Merlin from his sleep. Groaning, he looks over at the time. 4:27. "R’th’r." He mumbles, reaching over to shake his shoulder. Much to Merlin’s dismay, the blond stays fast asleep. The whines sounds again, and Merlin reluctantly throws the covers off and slides out of bed. The puppy bounds out ahead of him, racing down the stairs to wait for Merlin at the door. 

   When Merlin comes into sight, he lets out an excited bark. "Rupe, shush!" Merlin softly scolds him. He barks again. Rolling his eyes, Merlin reaches out and unlocks the back door before pulling it open. Rupert rushes outside and disappears into the darkness. Closing the door again, Merlin turns around and leans against it. Footsteps sound down the stairs as he rubs at his eyes. 

   “Hey, Love, I got this. Go back to bed." Arthur’s sleepy voice frustrates Merlin. 

   “No. It's fine." He snaps, turning around to glance out the window on the door. The small Rottweiler pup still isn't back yet. 

   "Merls, come on." Merlin feel Arthur start to wrap his arms around his waist, but he twists away.

   “I said it's fine." He snaps again before moving into the kitchen. He roughly pulls out a coffee mug and places it in their Keurig. Now that he’s awake, he’ll unfortunately be staying awake. 

   “Merlin." Arthur sighs from the entryway. 

   “Arthur!" Merlin yells, slamming his hand down on the counter. The blond jumps and looks at his boyfriend, only breaking eye contact when they hear a soft yip from the door. 

   When he doesn't move, Merlin huffs a sigh in frustration. "Just let the dog in and take him back to bed with you." He waves his hand dismissively as he turns back to his coffee, which is now pouring into his mug. He feel eyes on his back for only a moment before he hears Arthur’s feet shuffle to the door. He listens to it open, and to the sound of nails running back inside. 

   “Rupe, come on, Bud." Merlin relaxes as he hears the two of them make their way upstairs. He only leaves the kitchen once he hears the bedroom door close.

   The sitting room is pitch black, and he whacks his shin on the coffee table. "Bugger!" He whisper-yells. Groaning, he sinks down onto the sofa and fumbles for the tv remote. When he finally find it stuffed between the cushions, he flicks the tv on. Turning the volume down low, he starts looking through the channel guide. Nothing sparks any interest, so he shrugs and leaves it on the news station that's playing. It's not even local. 

   Sighing, he brings his mug to his lips and takes a small sip, testing the temperature. When he doesn’t burn his mouth, he takes a larger drink, savouring the warmth slipping down his throat. Merlin continues to stare mindlessly at the tv, sipping his coffee until it's gone. He debates getting up and making another cup, but decides against it, simply setting his mug on the table. 

   Merlin can feel his eyes growing heavy, and curses the fact that he’s not up in bed right now. A part of him honestly wishes he had taken Arthur up on his offer to deal with the dog. Despite being on the sofa, he feels his eyes slip closed, the dull drone of the tv slowly making him drift off to sleep.

~~~

   Merlin’s eyes flutter open, but immediately snap closed again against the sun shining in through the windows. He tries to reach a hand up to block the light, but finds that his hand is tangled in a blanket that's been wrapped around his body. 

   "Arthur?" He calls out. When no answer comes, or even the sound of footsteps or scrambling paws, he opens his eyes again. 

   “Arthur?" He calls out again. Throwing the blanket off and getting to his feet, he slowly stretches. Before leaving the sitting room, however, he spots a note sitting on the coffee table, held down by his empty mug. He picks it up and instantly feel guilty.

'Hey Merls, I went out for a bit and took Rupert with me. I had a feeling you didn't want to see my face for a little while. Don't know when I'll be back. Sorry about this morning. I love you so much. -Arthur'

   Merlin sits back down heavily, scrubbing at his face with his left hand. "Damn." He mutters. Sometimes he really believed that he didn’t deserve Arthur. He was so good to him and at times Merlin felt he could just be such a drama queen. Especially when he was tired.

   Still sitting on the sofa, Merlin wallows in self pity for a while before getting to his feet again and slowly making his way upstairs. The room is empty, as he had expected. The bed is made, the dog bed pushed out of the way in the corner, and a small bear holding a plush heart is sitting on his pillow. He smiles slightly, involuntary tears pricking at his eyes. He’s seen this bear many times. It's the one Arthur always makes him snuggle with when he’s upset with him. He calls it the 'apology bear'. Merlin had laughed the first time Arthur had given it to him, telling his boyfriend that maybe he should just stop being such a prat.

   Merlin gets dressed, slipping his phone into his pocket, before grabbing the bear and holding it close to his chest. Arthur must've snuggled it too because it smells like him. Making his way back downstairs, he moves back into the small sitting room and wraps himself up in the blanket again before sitting down on the sofa. He debates on calling his boyfriend, but doesn’t bother in the end. He know he won't answer. Arthur likes to give him space when they argue. 

   His stomach grumbles loudly as he hug the bear even closer. He doesn’t move, though. Doesn’t have the energy. Closing his eyes, he silently wishes that Arthur comes home soon. The only thing that happens, however, is his stomach growling loudly again. With a sigh, Merlin gets up and make his way to the kitchen, keeping the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

   He slowly sits at the table with a bowl of cereal and another cup of coffee. He’s just taking his first bite when the sound of a dog barking grabs his attention. When it doesn't happen again he shrugs and continues eating. Two bites in and he hears a key in the lock on the front door. He jumps to his feet —breakfast, coffee, blanket, and bear forgotten— and runs to the door. The minute Arthur is inside, Merlin jumps on him, wrapping his legs around his waist for support, and his arms around his neck as he gives him a big kiss. Arthur stumbles slightly in surprise, but catches himself quickly before kissing Merlin back. All too soon, they pull apart and look at each other. 

   “I'm so sorry, Arthur." Merlin says softly, those annoyingly persistent tears once again springing into his eyes. He was only ever this emotional when he was tired, and with a new puppy in their lives, he was always tired these days. 

   “Hey, hey, none of that." Arthur says, gently kissing Merlin’s cheek as a tear runs down his skin. 

   “I just... I didn't mean to make you leave. I missed you." He murmurs as he buries his face in Arthur’s neck. 

   Arthur hums in reply. "I missed you, too." He whispers in Merlin’s ear. 

   Rupert whines softly from beside them, making Merlin pull back with a giggle. Loosening his grip with his legs, he slides back into the floor. With one last kiss, he pulls away completely and bends down to ruffle their puppy's ears. He practically grins up at Merlin, if a dog could do such a thing. Merlin’s stomach chooses that moment to protest loudly again, making Arthur chuckle. 

   "Come on," Arthur beckons, "I'll make you something to eat." 

   Merlin flushes slightly. "I, uh, have a bowl of cereal on the table." Arthur scoffs at that. He's always been the cook in their relationship, surprisingly. 

   “I'm not letting the love of my life eat soggy cereal." With that, Arthur laces his fingers with Merlin’s and pulls him into the kitchen. 

   Lifting him up, Arthur sits Merlin down on the counter, giving him a quick kiss before he starts pulling pots, pans, and ingredients from various cupboards. Rupert comes over and sits below Merlin’s feet, looking up at him every now and then. Arthur keeps up a steady stream of talking, making Merlin laugh. The next words out of his mouth are unplanned and unexpected. He has nothing prepared but somehow that seems ok. 

   “Arthur, will you marry me?"

Chapter Text

   Something has changed. Merlin doesn’t know what, but he can feel it. When he looks at Arthur, he can feel it. His heart skips a beat when the blond smiles. The way his eyes light up when he talks about things he’s passionate about. Even the way his nose wrinkles when he scowls. Merlin has ignored it for years, but it's never been this bad before. Before, it would be a twinge in his stomach when their eyes met. Then it changed to full on butterflies when he so much as saw his friend. But Arthur has been Merlin’s best friend since they were in preschool. He can't possibly have feelings for him. Could he? 

   "Merlin!" Arthur waves his hand in front of Merlin’s face, making him blink out of his thoughts. "Have you even listened to a word I just said?" He asks, pretending to be angry with him, but Merlin can see the amusement lurking behind his eyes.

   "Sorry." Merlin replies bashfully, feeling his cheeks start to burn as he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. "What were we talking about?" 

   Arthur rolls his eyes dramatically. "I was saying, that girl Guinevere from The Rising Sun texted me again today." Merlin feels his heart sink, despite him trying to stop it. Arthur has never shown any interest in guys whatsoever. Merlin has kept a discreet eye on that fact. Or, well, he has ever since things changed. Hell, he’s never even shown any interest in any guys before. 

   "Merlin!" Arthur cries in exasperation. 

   “What? Oh, sorry, Arthur." Merlin rubs at his face harshly with both hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he see stars. 

   “Is everything okay?" Merlin jumps as Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, body suddenly buzzing harshly.

   “Yeah." He tries feebly. "I'm fine." He saved from further conversation as they step up to the counter and place their order. Merlin takes a step back away from his touch and Arthur frowns. They wait in silence for their drinks, turning to find a table once they arrive.

   As Arthur opens his mouth to talk, Merlin interrupts with, "So are you finally gonna go out with Gwen again? She's been desperate since last time." Something flashes in Arthur’s eyes, but he only runs his free hand through his hair, pulling harshly on the golden strands. 

   “I don't know. I mean, she's beautiful but... I don't know. What do you think?" Arthur turns such confused, desperate eyes Merlin’s way that his heart stutters.

   “I can't make that decision for you, Arthur. You know that." God, he just wants to try kissing him. Tangle his fingers in his hair and feel him melt against his body. 

   ‘No. I can't. I won't.’ He mentally berates himself. Arthur still just shrugs helplessly. 

   “That's not very helpful, Merlin." He pouts. He always manages to make Merlin feel guilty even when there's no reason for him to. 

   "If you like her just see her again." Merlin’s heart actually cracks a little as the words run so effortlessly off his tongue. Rehearsed lines. 

   “You think so?" Arthur meets Merlin’s eyes and for one paralyzing moment, Merlin thinks he can read his mind because his face changes. Not in an obvious way. A subtle way that only people who have known him forever could notice. His right eyebrow raises slightly, his lips thin just a tiny bit, his hand holding his coffee mug tightens ever so slightly. 

   "Yeah, I do." Merlin replies firmly, dropping his eyes to his own cup so he doesn’t have to look into his friend’s eyes any longer. 

   “What if—" Arthur ponders aloud, "What if there was someone else? I like Gwen, but what if I like someone else even more? What do I do then?" 

   Oh, well then. "Does this other lucky lady know?" Merlin asks. Arthur shakes his head softly. "Well..." He stops to think over his situation. "Do you have a chance with this other girl? It'd be a shame to let Gwen down for no reason, you know?" 

   Arthur scratches his cheek as he thinks. “Honestly," he starts, "I have no idea." 

   Merlin takes in this new information as he raises his cup and takes a long, calming drink of tea. Needless to say, it doesn't help. His hands still shake as he lowers his cup back to the table they’ve sat down at. Arthur notices, Merlin knows he does by the way his eyes follow his hands on their way down. He doesn't say anything though. 

   "All I can tell you is to go with what your heart wants more. If that's Gwen then let her know that. If it's not, then you also have to let her know. She's quite enamoured with you, you know." Merlin says softly. The words burn on his tongue. 

   Arthur sighs, briefly closing his eyes. "I know. Believe me, I know. And I think I'd be very happy with her, but a part of me is always gonna wonder 'what if', you know?" Merlin nods, trying to picture who this mystery girl is that Arthur likes so much. 

   “So, do I know Miss Mystery?" He asks with a playful, yet very forced, wink. Arthur flushes red. 

   “Uhm, y-yeah. You do." He stumbles over his words. Merlin runs through all the women they both know, but can't come up with anyone who seems like Arthur's type. 

   “Well, can I get a name?" He prompts. Arthur fidgets uncomfortably across from him. 

   “Just tell me what I should do." He replies with instead. 

   “Why can't I get her name?" Merlin pushes for an answer. 

   “Because I want your opinion first." Arthur argues. 

   “Well, how am I supposed to know if she's good enough for you if I don't know who she is?" Merlin bites back. 

   Arthur flinches slightly at his words. "Look, I just don't want you to know yet." He snaps, crossing his arms petulantly across his chest. 

   “Then I'm not giving you any advice, you prat. Figure it out yourself." Merlin replies crossly before getting to his feet. "I'll see you later." He grumbles before turning away and leaving the small outdoor cafe, cursing himself as he realizes that he left his nearly full $5 tea behind. He’s not going back to get it. 

   The farther away he gets, the more he expects Arthur to come running up to apologize, but he doesn't. ‘Well, screw him and his list of women that he can't decide on, and his stupid face that I fell in love with.’ He thinks bitterly. He stops in his tracks as those words roll around in his head again. His whole body shivers as he realizes that it's true. That’s what has changed. Next come the angry tears that blur his vision. ‘Why? Why my best friend?’ He lifts a frustrated hand to his eyes and brushes his unshed tears away angrily. 

   His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it as he continues on his way back home. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now. It buzzes again persistently, but he doesn’t touch it. ‘I’m in the middle of a life crisis right now people. Please leave me alone.’ 

   Merlin looks up as he nears his apartment complex and spot Arthur's car parked out front. ‘Oh great. Just what I need right now when all I really want to do is curl up in my bed and cry.’ With a defeated sigh, Merlin enters the building and take the stairs to the third floor. 

   Arthur isn't outside the door, meaning he used his key to get in already. Maybe Merlin should've rethought giving him a key to his flat. He's left the door unlocked, so Merlin just walks in. Arthur’s pacing the living room, nearly jumping out of his skin as he hears Merlin enters. 

   “What do you want, Arthur?" He asks tiredly. "I really just want to be alone right now." He slips his coat off, letting it fall to the floor where he fully intends to leave it until he needs it to venture outside again. 

   "Look, Merlin, I'm sorry about earlier. I'm just terrified. I've never been in this position before, and I'm just confused and don't know what to do." Arthur says in a rush. Merin rolls his eyes as he passes by him on his way to his bedroom. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t change into something comfier. 

   “What is so difficult about telling a girl that you like her? I don't remember you ever having this much trouble in the past." Merlin scoffs harshly. He hears Arthur groan loudly from the living room. 

   “Please, just come here, Merlin!" He calls. Merlin rolls his eyes again and takes his time stripping his skinny jeans off and slipping into sweatpants, just to annoy him.

   Arthur is still pacing around the living room as Merlin reenters, leaning against the wall facing him. "What is it, Arthur? What are you not telling me? Cause I'm done with all your cryptic talk!"

   He finally stops pacing and meets Merlin’s eyes. He definitely wasn't kidding when he said he was scared. He does indeed look terrified, which makes Merlin feel a little guilty, but he refuses to show it.

   "It's not what you think.” Arthur replies meekly. "This other person that I like... they're not a girl, Merlin. He's not a girl." 

   Merlin’s mind reels with this new information, suddenly feeling quite dizzy. He brings his left hand up to rub at his temple as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

   “Look, I know that's a lot to take in, and I'm sorry, but you're my best friend and I needed to tell someone. Please tell me you're not mad. Please don't hate me." Arthur explains almost desperately, nearly making Merlin laugh. How hypocritical would that be of him? Not that Arthur knows that, of course.

   "Who?" He finally manages to get his voice working again, opening his eyes to look at his friend. "Who is it?" 

   Arthur drops his eyes to his shoes again as he fiddles with his fingers. "I don't know if I—" 

   Merlin cuts him off with a groan, now dragging his hand across his eyes. "Just give me a name, Arthur!" His voice cracks slightly with emotion, because this was really not the conversation that he wanted to be having right now. 

   "It's you, Merlin." Arthur's soft voice barely makes it to his ears, but he hears him. His whole body freezes as he takes in Arthur’s words, letting them roll around in his head as he processes their meaning. There's soft footsteps approaching him, but he keeps his left hand over his eyes. He’s waiting for the punchline, or to wake up, but all he feels is Arthur's soft breath on his face as he gently takes his hand and pulls it away from his eyes. 

   "It's you." He repeats, a little louder this time, but Merlin can still barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. 

   “Me?" He chokes out, barely recognizing his own strained voice. 

   “Yes. You." Arthur chuckles, gently brushing his fingers across Merlin’s cheek. "How do you feel about that?" He asks, nervousness now taking over his face as he pulls his hand away. Merlin flicks his eyes back and forth between Arthur’s before giving him a small smile. 

   “I love you." Merlin murmurs into the space between them. 

   Merlin’s stomach does a somersault as Arthur grins, eyes sparkling before they close and he leans slightly closer to kiss him. Merlin sighs softly against the other man’s mouth as he readily kiss him back, letting his hands find their way to Arthur’s hips, Arthur’s fingers tangling into his hair. Arthur tugs gently on his dark locks once before pulling away. 

   "So, do you think I have a chance with this guy I like?" He asks cheekily. 

   “Oh, hell yes!" Merlin replies enthusiastically, diving back in to kiss his best friend again.

Chapter Text

   Arthur has worked in the same God forsaken office building for three years. He knows everyone who works there. He can put names to all the faces, even the ones who he only exchange a smile and a nod with. There are others, a small handful, that he talks about his weekend with. They discuss recent sporting events and chat about spouses. Well, he doesn’t. Sometimes he feels like he’s the only single one who works there. There is only one person there who he would consider a friend, and a bloody great one at that, and that's Gwaine. That's why he’s so surprised to find a new face that he’s unfamiliar with.

   Arthur smiles politely at Kay, lifting a hand in a wave as he passes by the man’s office on his way to the copy room. He lifts a hand in greeting back before focusing again on his phone conversation. Arthur rolls his eyes as he watches the man pull a notepad closer and start doodling on it. He’s so lost in thought that he don't see the person leaving the copy room until he’s bumping into them and sending their armful of papers fluttering across the entirety of the room. 

   "Oh, bugger! I am so sorry!" He exclaims, falling to his knees to start picking up the papers scattered across the floor. It isn't until he hears a giggle that he looks up at the poor person he so ungracefully bulldozed into.

   "It's okay. Honestly." The man replies. Arthur’s brain forgets how to function as he takes in the guy before him. He's not much taller than Arthur himself, but has a very slight, almost feminine build. Ebony locks cover his head, falling a little over his forehead as he looks down at Arthur. He lifts a hand to brush it aside, somehow bringing to the most beautiful and hypnotizing blue eyes that Arthur has ever seen. His pale porcelain skin looks soft to the touch, and so inviting looking that Arthur just wants to rub his fingers over it and feel it's warmth. But he doesn’t. That would be creepy.

   Arthur knows everybody that works here. Except him.

   "You're new." Arthur say in place of his previously planned apology. "I know you're new because I know everyone, but I don't know you. Are you not new? Oh, God, have I completely missed and ignored your existence for the past three years? I am so sorry!" He staggers to his feet, fallen papers now forgotten as he studies this man that he’s never seen before. He giggles again, cheeks turning a rosy colour that highlights his sharp cheekbones. 

   "It's okay. I'm new. It's only my third day." He replies. Arthur watches in fascination as he looks up at him through his black-as-night eyelashes and bites on his lower lip nervously. He really should stop doing that, though. It's not like he really needs to draw more attention to his pretty mouth. Arthur gawks at him in silence for another minute before what he said really registers in his brain. 

   “Oh, God!" He blushes. "It's only your third day and I've dumped all your stuff all over the floor. Damn. I am so sorry!" He promptly drops back to the floor and resumes picking up the things scattered across the carpet. The man giggles again before crouching down and helping. Soon enough, all of his papers are safely back in his arms, albeit a few are a little crinkled. Arthur offers to redo them for him but he refuses. 

   “Once again, I am so, so sorry." Arthur says. The man smiles bashfully and just shakes his head. 

   "It's fine. Really." He looks up at Arthur shyly again, lower lip tucked between his teeth distractingly. Arthur clears his throat and looks away, cheeks heating up. 

   "I'm, uh, I'm Arthur, by the way." He finally has the sense to introduce himself as he looks back. The man smiles even wider. 

   "Merlin." He responds. Arthur looks him over, deciding that his name is just as beautiful as he is. "Well, I gotta go. I'll see you around?" He asks, voice almost hopeful. 

   Arthur grins. “You bet." 

   Merlin ducks his head as he blushes. “Okay. Bye, Arthur." 

   Arthur stands in the copy room doorway and watches Merlin as he scurries out of the room and down the hall. By now, he’s completely forgotten why he even came in here in the first place. His mind is practically consumed with Merlin, and with that on his mind, he marches out of the copy room empty handed and goes in search of Gwaine. 

   It takes longer than he’d like to hunt him down. Naturally, he tries Gwaine’s office first, groaning in annoyance when he finds it devoid of any and all human life. Next, he tries the break room, but only a couple of the older staff, that have been here even longer than himself, are there. Arthur honestly has no idea how they've lasted here that long without going absolutely crazy. Which he very well might if Gwaine doesn't make an appearance soon. He finally finds him in the bathroom, perched on the counter between the two sinks as he scrolls through his phone. Arthur knows for a fact that he isn't on break.

   "Hey, Gwaine.” Arthur greets. Gwaine looks up with a grin. 

   “Ah, Princess. What’s up?" He nods before furrowing his eyebrows. "I'm probably lucky that it was just you who came in, aren't I?" Arthur chuckles and nods as he approaches, leaning against the counter beside his friend. 

   "Yeah. I don't think the boss would be too thrilled about you slacking off in the loo." He says matter-of-factly. Gwaine looks contemplative for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. 

   "Meh, whatever. Bayard hasn't fired me yet." Arthur shakes his head at Gwaine’s aloofness. Although, he does have a point. He's been caught going worse and still somehow has a job. Arthur knows that Bayard is a relatively relaxed employer, but come on. Everyone has limits. But that isn't important. Arthur didn't come here for that.

   "So, have you heard about new staff lately?" He asks, trying his best to sound innocent. He guesses that it doesn't work because Gwaine turns his phone off, slips it into his non-regulation skinny jeans pocket, then turns a devilish grin his way. 

   "Ahh, so you've finally met the new meat. I was wondering how long it would take. First second I saw him, I just knew he was your type. Had it written all over him." He replies with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Arthur gapes in shock at the man beside him. 

   "You mean to say that you knew about Merlin, had already met him, and didn't bother to say anything? Come on, Gwaine, I thought we were friends!" Arthur complains, giving him his best deeply wounded look. Gwaine just chuckles as he jumps off the counter and heads for the door. 

   "What would be the fun in that?" He asks, throwing Arthur a smirk over his shoulder as he pulls the door open. He quickly checks both ways before stepping out and motioning Arthur to follow. Arthur has to admit that he’s glad that they’re moving this conversation out of the bathroom. The Men's room on this floor always smells suspiciously like vomit and cat pee. 

   They make their way down the hall to Gwaine’s office. Gwaine shoots their boss, Bayard, a cheeky grin as they pass by. Arthur smacks his arm once they’re out of his line of sight, but doesn’t comment. Gwaine’s job security is not high on his list of priorities. There is only one thing currently on that list, and that's to find out absolutely everything he can about Merlin. 

   Gwaine closes his office door behind them before crossing to his desk and sitting down. Arthur sits down across from him, resting his arms on the desk as his leg bounces nervously.

   “So, you met Mr. Emrys." Gwaine states, nodding his head approvingly. When Arthur just gives him a blank look, he huffs a sigh and rolls his eyes. "That's his name, you idiot. Merlin Emrys." Arthur soaks up the tidbit of information like a sponge, looking to Gwaine for more. He is so desperate for more. However, Gwaine just shrugs. 

   “I don't know what to tell you, Princess. The guy is really shy. Doesn't give you his life story five seconds after meeting him." Arthur feels his face fall, not even bothering to hide his disappointment from his friend. "How did you meet him anyway?" Gwaine adds, and Arthur almost bursts out laughing, cheeks burning red at the memory from earlier. 

   "I, uh, I ran into him in the copy room. Literally." Arthur wave his hands, miming an explosion, making Gwaine tip his head back and full on belly laugh. 

   "Wow. You sure know how to make an impression." He chuckles. Arthur shrugs bashfully in place of a vocal reply. 

   "What can I say?" He finally adds once his voice has returned. "It's a gift." Gwaine continues to snicker across from him. Arthur lets him have his fun for another minute or so before fixing him with a stern gaze. "Okay, but seriously. Like you said, this guy seems really shy, but also, like, 110% my type. I don't want to scare him off, so I need some ideas on how to woo him a little bit. Just asking him on a date isn't going to work." 

   Gwaine hums in reply, chewing on his lip as he screws up his face in thought. Arthur doesn’t find the action distracting. Not like when Merlin did it. 

   "What about flowers? I got Elena a bouquet of roses on our first date." He suggests weakly. Arthur rolls his eyes and waves off his suggestion with a shake of his head. 

   "Nah. Sorry, but roses are for quitters. I need something big and memorable." They sit in silence for a moment before Gwaine’s entire face lights up. 

   "Okay, you want big and memorable?" He clarifies. Arthur nods his head, eyes shining with interest. "Well, then I've got just the idea."

~~~

   Arthur’s heart is pounding wildly in his chest. Today is finally the day that they put Gwaine’s plan into action. It took about a week and half to set up, and in that time Arthur has spoken to Merlin about seven more times. He always seems relatively happy to see him. And not like forced happy. Genuinely happy. Arthur hopes this doesn't flop entirely, or he may have to quit and become a homeless bum. He looks over at his fellow employees who have agreed to help him out. They look back, waiting for the signal to go. He gives it with a single nod, and just like that, the plan is in motion.

   Arthur sits in his office, tense beyond belief as he pretends to work on his computer. In reality, he’s keeping a eye on Merlin’s office across and down the hall. Six coworkers in total are helping him out today, and each one of them have to approach Merlin before he can. Arthur holds his breath as he watches the first guy walk by. Held tightly in his hand is a helium balloon, pink with a white letter D on it, weighted down at the bottom by a small baggy of chocolate. He watches him enter Merlin’s office and hand over his gift silently before leaving. Merlin looks from the balloon to the man with confusion.

   One by one, Arthur’s fellow coworkers approach Merlin and hand off their balloons, all identical except for the letter printed on them. They all leave their gifts on his desk with no explanation, and leave just as silently as they came. Arthur watch as the last one, Kay, hands his over, a letter E printed on his balloon. He shoots Arthur a discreet smile and a thumbs up as he passes him by. Arthur’s heart is hammering wildly as he smiles back. Now, he just has to wait for Merlin to organize the balloons into their proper order.

   He watches as Merlin looks them over, brows furrowed in confusion. He can see his mouth moving silently as he tries to figure out what they're supposed to say. At last, he lines them up in their proper order, mouthing the words 'DATE ME' to himself. He looks up, and Arthur quickly drops his gaze. Merlin’s eyes are only away from the balloons for a moment before they are trained once again on the pink overload in front of him. They slip down to the small baggies of chocolate holding each one down, and he smiles appreciatively. Now it's Arthur’s turn. He grabs the single sheet of paper he printed that morning and gets to his feet.

   Merlin doesn't look up as Arthur starts down the hallway, too fixated on the confusing display in front of him. Arthur is hoping that he can clear up Merlin’s confusion for him. Merlin finally looks up as Arthur steps through his doorway. 

   "Oh, hey, Arthur. What can I do for you?" Merlin asks, eyes on him but continuously flicking back to the printed letters beside him. Arthur doesn’t say anything, just lifts the paper up into Merlin’s field of vision. He looks at it, confused for a moment.

   “Arthur, I don't— Why is there only a question mark on—” He cuts himself off as his eyes widen, looking back and forth between the ‘DATE ME’ spelled out on the balloons and the single question mark held nervously in Arthur’s hands.

   "Was this you?" He asks quietly, eyes wide. Arthur forces himself to nod nervously. 

   "Er, yeah. I was wondering, obviously, if you'd maybe like to go on a date with me? I was thinking that we could get dinner and then maybe go see a show? The local theatre is currently putting on a play right now, and I've never been to live theatre before, but I'd really love to go with you." Arthur blushes as he realizes that he’s rambling, flushing even more red at his use of the 'L' word. Merlin is staring at him speechlessly with his mouth hanging open.

   "Arthur, I— I'd love to!" He finally says, bringing a wide smile to Arthur’s face as he finally puts him out of his tense and nervous misery. Merlin gets to his feet and crosses the short distance between them before pressing his lips firmly to the blond’s. Arthur drops the paper in his hands, letting it flutter to the ground at their feet, as he grips the front of Merlin’s white button down and pulls him closer. He gets lost in Merlin’s embrace, momentarily forgetting that they are, in fact, at work. 

   They get brought back to reality as a sudden and loud chorus of cheers erupts behind them. Pulling apart, they both look up, very much startled. Merlin looks over Arthur’s shoulder, grinning sheepishly. Arthur turns around, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist as he looks over at their coworkers. Nearly the entire floor is crowded around Merlin’s open office door.

   Gwaine is front and centre, giving Arthur a lewd wink. The six men who had helped him out are cheering loudly, high-fiving as if it was them that got together with their work crush, not Arthur. Yes, Arthur will admit that he has a massive, high-school-girl reminiscent, crush on the man currently blushing beside him. 

   Merlin turns to look at Arthur as everyone finally leaves. “I've been kinda hoping you'd ask me out ever since I saw you on my first day." Arthur grins at his shy cuteness. "But you know that you could've just gotten me flowers, right?" 

   Arthur scoffs at his words. "Flowers are too overdone. You're too special to get something so normal." He kisses Merlin firmly on the mouth again as the man blushes bashfully.

Chapter Text

   How does Arthur begin to describe the whirlwind that is Merlin Emrys? First of all, he is Arthur’s best friend. He's witty, charming, funny, sweet, caring, extremely selfless, stubborn, intelligent. Arthur could literally go on and on until he ran out of breath, and then keep going. He is one of the greatest people that Arthur has ever met. However, above all else, he's a prankster.

   Arthur and Merlin met in their first year of Primary School. Back then, the first year classes were split into Morning and Afternoon. They both had the same morning class. Their first interaction was Merlin trying to glue a crayon to Arthur’s hand. He had sneakily covered the yellow crayon with glue, but unfortunately they only had non-toxic glue sticks. What was supposed to become adhered to Arthur’s hand merely made his hand sticky. Arthur grudgingly remembers crying about it, the sweet teacher they had (Mrs. Alice, if he recalls correctly) coming to his aid and helping him wash the sticky, gluey mess off his hand. She never found out who did it. Later, Merlin came up to him and sincerely apologized. From that moment on, they became inseparable. 

   Growing up with Merlin, Arthur learned to be very observant and cautious about his surroundings. He was, after all, his best friend’s guinea pig. Any idea for a prank that Merlin got, he tested out on Arthur first to make sure it would work. He didn't want a repeat of his gluey crayon failure. After a while, Arthur just got used to it. People often commented on his uncanny ability to swiftly move his head out of the line of fire, or step over things that they hadn't even seen yet. Truth is, Arthur got to know Merlin Emrys so well that he became predictable. To Arthur, at least.

   What Arthur didn't predict was the way his feelings would change for Merlin in their second to last year of school. Arthur started looking at his best friend as not only a friend, but as someone who he wanted to view as a love interest. Initially, he brushed the feelings aside, burying them deep so as not to ruin a friendship that he had come to depend on so much. He wasn't worried about Merlin not accepting him. After all, Merlin was the first one Arthur had told when he figured out that he was bisexual, and inversely, Merlin told him that he was gay. Arthur just assumed that his friend never thought of him the same way.

   They both applied to the same college when they graduated school, and both got their acceptance letters at the same time. Naturally, Merlin had suggested that they try to get a dorm room together. Arthur had faked his enthusiasm, then made every effort he possibly could to make sure it didn't happen. There was no way that he could share a room with Merlin and continue keeping his steadily growing feelings a secret. In the end, they ended up in different rooms on two different floors. Merlin had been upset, but Arthur had pointed out that at least they were in the same building. This had only slightly mollified his friend.

   Arthur ended up getting paired with an American exchange student named Sam Wesson. He was a decent enough guy, and as long as they kept their respective sides of the room tidy they got along great. Merlin often complained about how his roommate, a guy named Edwin Muirden, snored loudly every night. The dark circles under Merlin’s eyes told Arthur that he was telling the truth. This is when Arthur made his first crucial mistake in college. He had gotten another key, pretending that he had lost his somewhere in the room and couldn't find it no matter where he and his roommate looked, and given it to Merlin. 

   “You know. If it ever gets too much, you can come crash in bed with me." He had said as he pressed the key into Merlin’s palm.

   Rule number one in college: never, ever, under any circumstances, do you ever give a known prankster a key to your room.

   Things started small, like when Merlin switched Arthur’s and Sam’s toothbrushes in their tiny, cramped excuse for a bathroom. Arthur had been halfway through brushing his teeth when Sam had walked in to do the same and his eyes bugged out. When Arthur took the toothbrush out of his mouth and saw it wasn't his, he promptly spit in the sink and handed it over, apologizing profusely and demanding to know why Sam had switched them in the first place. Sam insisted that he hadn't, and wouldn't, before tossing it in the trash and opening his spare one. Merlin’s smirking face popped into Arthur’s head, and from that day onward, Arthur made sure to continue checking the room thoroughly every time he entered.

   Arthur couldn't exactly tell Sam that it was Merlin who was messing with them, because he knew that Sam would refuse to let Merlin into the room. Despite Arthur’s wish to keep his feelings unknown, he did enjoy the nights that Merlin would sneak into the room and slip into bed with him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling his back flush against his chest. Arthur also couldn't say anything to Merlin, because he knew that his friend would just make sure that he was sneakier, and Arthur didn't feel like hunting down booby traps even more than he already was.

   So, all in all, college was going smoothly. Even if Arthur was still Merlin’s go-to prank guinea pig. The blond did feel bad that poor Sam was now too, just by association, but there wasn't really a whole lot that he could do about it. Things didn't really take a turn for the worst until about two months after Merlin got his key to Arthur’s room.

~~~

   A shrill shriek pulls Arthur from his peaceful sleep. The once warm spot beside him that Merlin had occupied is now cold, leaving a frown on his face. However, his focus is brought back to the present as Sam comes careening back into the main part of the room, still screaming his head off like a little girl. Arthur jumps to his feet, now wide awake, and grabs the hysterical man by the shoulders. 

   Spinning Sam around to face him, Arthur yells, "Sam! What's wrong?” Sam thankfully stops screaming and stares at Arthur in utter horror with tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

   “They're everywhere." He breathes, leaving me baffled. 

   "Huh? Sam, you're not making any sense. What's everywhere?" He doesn't speak, just lifts a trembling hand and points in the direction of the room door, and also the bathroom. Arthur lets go of him and turns to face the direction he pointed. Sam scurries for his bed behind Arthur, diving under the covers and proceeding to turn into nothing more than a quivering lump on his mattress. Arthur sucks in a tense breath and takes slow steps toward the bathroom. He pauses for a moment outside the door, looking at the light pouring out onto the floor next to him. Then, he jumps out, looking into the bathroom with his fists raised.

   He drops them as he initially finds the bathroom empty. "What?" He steps closer, now standing directly in the doorway. Upon closer inspection, he soon learn what Sam meant by "they're everywhere". On every single available flat surface sits a rubber or plastic spider in varying sizes and colours. Arthur almost bursts out laughing, but refrains from doing so as he realizes that such an action could, and probably would, hurt the poor guy's feelings. 

   "Sam!" He calls, looking back over at him. "Sam, it's okay. They're all fake." There's a moments pause before his head emerges from under his covers. 

   "Fake?" He asks in a trembling voice. 

   "Yeah. Fake. They can't hurt you. I'll take care of it." Arthur spends the next forty-five minutes scouring every inch of the bathroom and removing every spider, cursing his best friend’s existence the entire time.

~~~

   Their room remains incident free for about two weeks after that, but Arthur doesn’t let it lull him into a false sense of security. That's why he’s am not at all surprised when he gets a text from Sam, telling him to go to their room immediately. He has no idea what Merlin did this time, but he’s sure that whatever it was, it was most likely meant for him and not his perfectly pleasant American roommate.

   The dorm room door is wide open as Arthur approaches, making his heart sink. Whatever happened can't be good. With a deep running feeling of dread, he peeks into the seemingly empty room. It isn't until he takes a closer look, once again, that he realizes what's amiss. There's a string of some sort, cleverly attached to an empty bucket, laying across the floor like a thin, limp snake. But that's not all. Arthur groans as he steps onto the carpet and his shoes make an awful squish as water pools up around them. An infuriated Sam then steps out from the bathroom, madly towelling off his hair.

   Once again, Arthur finds himself desperately wanting to burst out laughing. He probably would, too, if the man didn't look like he was going to kill him. His entire top half is absolutely soaked, his hair hanging down around his face and making him vaguely look like a wet puppy. He throws the towel down on the carpet and fixes Arthur with a glare. 

   "Did you do this?!" He gestures wildly to himself and the floor. Arthur vigorously shakes his head. 

   "No! Of course not! Why would I want to soak our own floor?" Arthur defends myself. Sam narrows his eyes. 

   "Do you know who did?" He demands. Now Arthur is in a tough as hell position. Does he admit that, yes, he does know who is behind this and the spider incident? Or does he remain ignorant and possibly save Merlin’s life? Cause honestly, Sam looks about ready to murder someone right now. Arthur goes for silently shaking his head 'no'. Sam studies his face, looking to see if he’s lying, and Arthur desperately tries to look innocent. 

   Finally, Sam relents. "Fine, but if I find out who it was, they're dead. Got it?" He points a warning finger at Arthur, and Arthur nods.

   He and Sam spend the next hour or so on their hands and knees as they try to dry the carpet out. Sam leaves him, blow dryer in hand, and goes to let the dorm advisor know what happened in case the carpet needs to be pulled up and replaced. Arthur hears a chuckle nearby and looks up to see Merlin. 

   “I'm assuming that it wasn't you I got?" He pouts childishly. 

   Arthur glares up at him from his spot on the floor. "No!" He hisses. "And you need to stop! Sam is ready to kill whoever keeps messing with our room. It was one thing testing your pranks out on me, but it's another to do it to my roommate." 

   Merlin lifts his hands in surrender, smirking as Sam comes back into view. “I'm not done just yet." He whisper-yells before waving to Sam and disappearing with a wink in Arthur’s direction.

~~~

   For the next few weeks, Arthur tries his best to always enter their dorm room before Sam has the chance. His best friend may be an idiot with a death wish, but he’s still madly in love with the dollophead. Despite what Merlin had said, however, nothing is ever waiting for him in their room at the end of the day. Even the little things had ceased, and Arthur thought maybe, just maybe, Merlin had taken his warning into consideration and stopped. It seemed doubtful, but a guy could wish, right?

   Arthur was halfway to his first class when he realized that he had left his textbook sitting on his desk. He and Sam were walking to class together, since his first class was in the same building, when Arthur came to a grinding halt. 

   “Bugger!" He curses, making Sam turn back and look at him. "I forgot my textbook. Keep going, I'll see you back at the dorm later." Sam nods and waves before continuing on his way. Arthur turns back and runs to the dorm building.

   He’s in such a hurry that he doesn’t even hear the noise coming from inside the room as he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door open. He rushes blindly inside, intent only on grabbing his textbook and running back out to avoid being late to class. What really happens, however, is Arthur rushes in, and collides face first with an aluminum step ladder. He crashes to the floor, cursing and swearing bloody murder, recovering in time just to have another body fall and land roughly on top of him.

   "Bloody hell!" He yells, bringing a hand up to hold his surprisingly not bleeding nose as he squeezes my eyes shut. He expects the weight on top of him to leave as whoever it is gets up, but they never do.

   “What the hell?!" He yells again, opening his eyes, only to come face to face with none other than Merlin Emrys. He looks startled and panicked, and is very clearly immobile out of shock. 

   "A-Arthur?" He stammers out. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back yet!" Arthur groans as he shifts on top of him, pointy elbow digging harshly into his ribs. 

   "It's my room, you ass, I forgot my textbook!" He retorts. They fall into silence, only broken by the sounds of their breathing. At some point, Arthur’s eyes had closed again, probably in pain when Merlin had assaulted his ribcage. However, they spring open as he feels Merlin’s breath wash over his lips. His body jolts as he realizes just how close Merlin really is, heart starting to beat madly when he notices that Merlin’s eyes aren't locked with his, as he had expected them to be. They are instead fixed on his mouth. 

   "Merlin?" Arthur breathes out, voice coming out shaky as his brain catches up with the situation. He opens his mouth to ask what exactly Merlin is doing, but he never gets the chance to get the words out. Merlin prematurely silences him with a kiss.

   Arthur’s reaction is instant, lips pressing back as his arms circle Merlin’s waist. Merlin’s hands find their way into Arthur’s hair, tugging on it experimentally. Arthur involuntarily groans against Merlin’s lips, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur lets him explore every inch before curling his own tongue with Merlin’s and fighting for dominance. Merlin tightens his fingers in Arthur’s hair, pulling harder, and Arthur surprises himself by instantly submitting to him, melting as he happily takes charge over their steaming hot kiss.

   They get interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and Arthur jumps so badly that his teeth sink down into Merlin’s tongue. He groans in pain as he pulls away. They both look up to see who had interrupted them, Arthur being a little more than cranky because this was finally happening! Sam is smirking down at them. 

   "For the record, I totally saw this coming." He announces. "Also," he adds, eyes flitting over to Merlin, "I knew it was you who kept pranking and booby trapping the room. I just wanted to see how long Arthur would cover for you. It really is quite pathetic how in love you two are. And Arthur," he says, eyes now fixing on the blond, "don't you have a class to get to?"

   Arthur watches him walk away with bright red cheeks. When he looks back at Merlin, he's already smirking down at him. "This isn't quite how I expected this prank to go, but I am more than okay with the turn in events." He grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

   "Oh, could you just not?" Arthur groans, smacking the back of his head. Merlin laughs, finally moving to sit up. Arthur follows him up, meeting his inquisitive eyes. 

   "So, how about we skip the awkward first date and just go right to boyfriends?" Merlin asks, lacing the fingers of his left hand with Arthur’s right. Arthur leans forward and presses another kiss to his enticing lips. 

   "Sounds absolutely perfect to me, boyfriend." Arthur murmurs as he slowly pulls away. Merlin simply grins, a fond look taking the place of the usual devilish glint in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Thursday Night

  Arthur shifts restlessly in Merlin’s room, waiting for him to return. They have this thing, an agreement of sorts. Whenever one of them has a date, the other helps them get ready, then waits at their house until they get back. If they don't come back, they would simply stay overnight. Arthur has been staying overnight at Merlin’s a lot this year. And it's slowly killing him. 

   Arthur Pendragon has been in love with one Merlin Emrys for the better part of three years. Ever since his last "steady" boyfriend Lance broke up with him and Arthur took him to the local carnival to cheer him up. Merlin had told Arthur he loved him that night, and while Arthur knew what he had meant by it, it didn’t mean that it hadn’t made his heart flutter and his stomach practically drop out of his arse. 

   Arthur is startled out of his thoughts as Merlin’s door bursts open, his friend stumbling in. He's laughing, and grinning, and seems so genuinely happy that it makes Arthur’s heart both flutter madly and squeeze painfully in his chest. Most of all, though, Arthur thinks another part of his already frail heart withers and dies. 

   “Oh, hey Merlin." He says, trying his best to sound nonchalant and happy. Merlin smiles widely at him as he dances over and drops onto the bed beside Him. "So, how did it go?" Arthur forces himself to ask. 

   Merlin sighs dreamily, dropping his head to rest against Arthur’s shoulder. "Did you know Gwaine was such a good kisser?" He muses, blushing and giggling like a school girl. "I mean, holy crap." He subconsciously brings his fingers up to ghost across his lips. Arthur watches every movement he makes, his gut aching to kiss those lips. To find out what they feel like pressed to his. What they taste like after sharing one of those sugary sodas he likes so much. As he stares at Merlin’s happy face. He tells himself, then, that he would do anything in the world to have Merlin smile like that because of him. 

   “Uhm, no, I didn't." Arthur replies quietly. Merlin giggles again. 

   “Well," he says as he pokes Arthur’s nose gently with his finger, "you should try it sometime." He winks before getting up and walking over to his closet. 

   Arthur swallows thickly as Merlin pulls his shirt off over his head. "He said he wants to go out again. I think I'd like that." He says casually. Arthur’s heart drops further. He know what second dates usually mean with Merlin. They mean he’ll most likely be curled up in his best friend’s bed, alone and crying silent tears as he waits for him to come home, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be walking through the door. 

   “I, uh, I gotta go." Arthur chokes out, forcing back the onslaught of emotions threatening to overtake him, and getting to his feet before the universe adds insult to injury and makes him cry in front of his best friend. He hated showing weakness like that in from of people. Even Merlin.

   "Arthur!" Merlin calls after him, but he’s already out the door and halfway down the stairs. He ignores Merlin’s insistent voice as he hurries to the door. 

   “Bye, Hunith!" Arthur calls out to Merlin’s mother on his way out the door. She calls a farewell back but he’s already closing the front door firmly behind himself. He speed walks the few blocks separating their homes, something clawing at his chest and trying to make its way up his throat. He swallows against the lump cutting off his air.

   Once through the door of the Pendragon household, Arthur runs up the stairs, slamming the door of his room behind him. Collapsing on his bed, he buries his face in the pillows, and ignores his half-sister’s surprisingly concerned voice outside the door, asking if he was okay in a much gentler voice than he’s ever heard come from her before.

Monday Mid-morning

   Arthur had always been thankful for long weekends, but never quite this much. He has stayed in his room all weekend, the only exception being quick trips to the washroom across the hall. He has ignored all Morgana’s requests to talk, all meals offered to him, and every phone call and text from his best friend. In short, he feels awful. Both physically and mentally. He misses Merlin terribly. He misses talking to him, and laughing with him. He misses his face. Not seeing or talking to Merlin for this long feels like he’s suddenly missing a limb. However, he knows that it always only hurts more afterwards. 

   Knock knock knock. 

   “Oh my god, go away!" Arthur’s voice is once again muffled by his pillow. 

   “Please, Arthur, I just want to talk." Comes the reply. Arthur’s whole body tenses up at the sound of Merlin’s voice. He wants to say no. Wants to just yell at him to just leave him alone. To go snog Gwaine and forget all about him. Instead, he heaves a sigh and tells Merlin to come in. Remaining where he is, he listens with growing dread to the sound of the door being opened and closed.

   “Hey, Arthur." Merlin murmurs. Arthur can feel the tears, that he still refuses to let fall, stinging at the backs of his eyes again. 

   “What do you want?" He asks, thanking everything that is good and holy that Merlin can't see his face. 

   “I just want to know what I did. Why are you ignoring me? I don't understand." Merlin sounds so small and upset that it makes Arthur’s stomach roll queasily.

   Reluctantly, Arthur sits up and looks at him. He looks so crest fallen. "You didn't do anything." He mutters. 

   Merlin huffs out an unamused laugh. "Yeah, all the ignored phone calls and texts really let me know that." He retorts sarcastically. Arthur forces himself to finally meet Merlin’s eyes. "Just tell me the truth." He whispers. Practically begs.

   “Fine." Arthur snaps, getting to his feet and walking to the other side of his room. Wrapping his arms around his body protectively, he reluctantly opens his mouth to speak. 

   "The thing is, Merlin," he slowly starts, "is that I'm— I'm in love with you." He hears Merlin’s small gasp behind him, but tries his best to ignore it. "I have been since that night when I took you to that carnival to cheer you up after Lance broke your heart. The way your eyes lit up, and the feel of your arms wrapped around me when you saw what I had done. I can’t explain it, it just made me feel complete. And I know it's stupid. I know we're best friends and that's all we'll ever be, all you’ll ever see me as, but I can't help it. It kills me watching you go out time and time again and come back so happy. Happier than I've ever made you. Than I'll ever be able to make you. I don't want to lose you, Merlin, because being your friend is better than not having you at all, but I just need time." 

   Finally, Arthur slowly turns to face his friend, and sees the tears streaming down his cheeks, and instantly hates himself. "Great.” He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. "Now I've gone and made you cry." Merlin sniffs and furiously wipes at his eyes. 

   “I'm just gonna go." Arthur says dejectedly, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Stay if you want. Or leave. Whatever is best for you. That's all I've ever wanted." He slips past Merlin, opening the door to his bedroom, and leaves without a second look back.

Monday Evening

   Arthur shivers slightly as a cool breeze picks up, ruffling his currently unruly mess of golden locks. He thankfully hasn’t cried, has somehow managed to stave off all persistent tears. He simply sits here, in their spot, completely numb. He couldn’t believe he had told just Merlin everything. The last look on Merlin’s face before he had left is etched in his mind. Each tear on his perfect face cuts a new slice through Arthur’s heart. His throat constricts but no tears come. Honestly, he didn’t feel like he deserved to be this upset. This was all his fault, after all. He was the one who had gone and fallen so foolishly in love.

   A twig snaps behind him, making his heart race. As far as he knows, the only people who knew about this place were him and Merlin. They had found it years ago, when they were both six or seven. A small path, so overgrown that they had to belly crawl for what felt like minutes, but lead to a tiny, beautiful meadow. The place must only be about fifteen feet wide. A beautiful tree grows right smack in the middle. They never had found out what type of tree. Neither of them had cared very much. The older they got, the higher up the tree they would climb. At each level, their initials were carved into the thick bark. At the current moment, they were about halfway up, and that's where Arthur is right now.

   "Arthur?" Arthur turns his head, keeping his body still so he doesn’t fall off his branch, and looks down. Sure enough, Merlin is standing there, staring up at him. "Can— can you come down? I want to talk." 

   Arthur’s body runs cold at his words. That phrase almost always lead to heartbreak. He had seen it happen times in the school halls, or in grassy parks, or on the telly. Still, he makes his way down, jumping and swinging effortlessly from branch to branch until his feet hit solid ground. He reluctantly turns to face Merlin, only to find him already there, right beside him. 

   “Yeah?" Arthur asks in a small voice, mentally preparing himself to lose his best friend.

   "I just wanted to let you know that I wasn't crying earlier because you said you loved me. Well, I was, but not in the way you're thinking. I missed you so much this weekend, it felt like a part of me was missing. I couldn't function without you." Merlin admits. Arthur frowns slightly and looks down, immediately feeling guilty. He had never thought about how his absence would affect his friend. 

   “No, please, don't be upset." Merlin rushes out, reaching out a hand and brushing gentle fingers over Arthur’s cheek. Where his skin touches Arthur’s flames hot. 

   "I never want to see anything but a smile on that beautiful face." Merlin murmurs earnestly, slipping his other arm around Arthur’s waist and pulling him into a hug. Arthur tries to memorize the feeling of Merlin’s body pressed to his. The way his arms wrapped perfectly around his waist and shoulders. He chokes on a breath. 

   “Shhh, don't cry, please, there's nothing to cry about. I love you, too. I love you so much it hurts." Merlin’s soft voice says in his ear. Arthur pulls back and looks into his blue eyes in shock. Merlin smiles softly at him, arms sliding back so his hand is now resting against the back of Arthur’s neck. 

   "Yes, Arthur, I love you, too. I always have. I just needed that little push to finally let myself tell you." Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but Merlin shushes him quietly. 

   “Enough talking." He says quietly, before leaning his forehead against Arthur’s. "We've wasted enough time talking already." His breath fans across Arthur’s mouth, making the blond’s skin erupt in goosebumps. Arthur’s breath hitches as Merlin runs his thumb gently over his cheekbone. 

   “I'm going to kiss you now." Merlin murmurs. Arthur tries to reply, but then Merlin’s lips are on his, and he forgets whatever it was that he had been about to say. It didn’t seem important anymore. He melts against Merlin, moving his lips fervently against his friend’s. Merlin sighs softly against Arthur’s mouth, parting his lips to let Arthur in. Arthur’s blood buzzes with electricity at the feeling of Merlin’s tongue gliding smoothly against his own. 

   Slowly, almost like he doesn’t really want to, Merlin pulls back, panting heavily. Arthur barely even registers that he’s much the same. "God, Arthur, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that." He breathes. 

   Arthur grins at him. "I never want anyone else touching you but me. You're mine." 

   Merlin grins back. "Possessive prat.” He laughs, before adding, “I kinda like the sound of that." Pulling back a little further still, he says "Now lets go home. It's getting dark and cold."

   Stepping back more, he takes Arthur’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together snugly. Arthur smiles at the sight, his entire body warming at the sensation. 

   “Okay. Boyfriend." He says, making Merlin smile. He squeezes Arthur’s hand firmly. Reassuringly. 

   “Boyfriend." He murmurs back. "Forever and always."

Chapter Text

PROMPT from epic-sorcerer on Tumblr: Arthur pulls on Merlin’s neckerchief to kiss him.

   Arthur had never really noticed it before. Merlin’s neckerchief, that is. Of course, he knew it was there. It was almost always part of Merlin’s usual wardrobe, it had just never captured his attention quite like this before. Arthur often found himself staring at, wondering what it felt like. Was is soft to the touch? Or was it the usual rough material most people of Merlin’s station had? Did it smell like Merlin? All earthy with a hint of herbs, and maybe something that could be lavender? Or did it smell like the usual soap that people not of noble blood could afford? The Prince realized that these were not things he should be thinking about. Not only was Merlin a servant, but he was also a man. What would his father say should he ever learn of his son’s wandering thoughts? 

   It all starts on a hot, humid morning, some weeks prior. Arthur is up early, hoping to get through training with the knights before the sun is at its highest, and the heat at its most oppressive. As usual, Merlin is running a little late, and is flushed and panting by the time he bursts into Arthur’s chambers, breakfast tray precariously balanced on one hand.

   “You’re up.” Merlin says, stating the obvious as he was so prone to do. Arthur raises an eyebrow at him, keen eyes watching him as Merlin steps farther into the room and places the tray on his table. There was something different about him today. He’s so focused on studying his servant, that he almost misses the next words out of his mouth. “You got yourself out of bed successfully, but you still couldn’t dress yourself?”

   “Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur retorts, but it’s half-hearted at best. The Prince forces his eyes away from his servant as Merlin crosses the room to Arthur’s wardrobe. His mind is still firmly stuck on Merlin’s appearance however, and it bothered the blond. Merlin looked the same, for the most part. He was still tall and lean, black hair and large ears. He still had the same brown trousers, and buckled boots. He still wore the same tunics as usual, and his neckerchief was in place. 

   “Arthur!” Merlin’s exasperated voice pulls Arthur from his ruminating thoughts.

   Snapping his eyes up, Arthur replies, “What?” He tries to keep his tone as irritated as possible. It wasn’t right for a servant to speak in such a way to their master. Not that Merlin had ever adhered closely to the standard rules of the court. Arthur had long since gotten used to Merlin’s back talk, and snarky comments, and cavalier attitude towards his Royal person. 

   Merlin rolls his eyes as he huffs slightly. “I said, are you going to come here and get dressed, or just stay in your bed clothes all day? I really don’t think the king would approve of you appearing out in public dressed like that.”

   Arthur frowns as he looks down at himself. His current clothes, while being used exclusively for sleeping, were still made from the highest and richest cloths in the kingdom. For all intents and purposes, they were still far nicer clothes than Merlin was wearing at the current moment. However, his frie— servant did have a point. The Crown Prince of Camelot certainly had an image to uphold. He couldn’t possibly be seen out of his chambers dressed as such. Still, that doesn’t stop Arthur from crossing the room haughtily.

   “Stop trying to tell me what to do, Merlin. I’m the Prince, remember?” He drawls lazily as he comes to a stop. Merlin gives him a decidedly unimpressed look as he steps closer, nimble fingers reaching up grip the hem of his tunic.

   “You’re the prat, more like it.” Merlin mumbles under his breath, knowing full well that Arthur can hear him. Arthur raises his eyebrows.

   “What was that?” He asks, giving Merlin the chance to take the insult back. Not that the man ever did. He was cheeky, and liked to push all the boundaries set in place by their forebearers. 

   Sure enough, Merlin shoots him a grin as he says, “Nothing, Sire.” Arthur doesn’t comment on how Merlin manages to make Sire sound like an insult all on its own. 

   After that, the two of them lapse into silence, Merlin working the Prince’s bedclothes off, and his usual clothes that he wore under his armour when training, on. He tightens the laces of Arthur’s tunic just enough to be considered acceptable, leaving a much larger portion of skin showing than Arthur ever had before Merlin barged into his life. Merlin hands him his trousers, letting Arthur pull them on, but reaches out to tie the laces on the front. The Prince has to hold his breath as the man’s fingers brush lightly against his stomach. 

   “There, all set.” Merlin says, much too triumphantly for what had been accomplished so far that morning. “Now, breakfast. Before it gets cold.” 

   He steps to the side, allowing Arthur to approach his table, and his breakfast. As the Prince sits in his usual chair, pulling his food closer, Merlin goes about straightening out the bed linens. As Arthur slowly eats, he finds his eyes once again drawn to the man as he moves through his chambers, picking up clothes here, and tidying up random things there. As he watches, it suddenly dawns on him. His jacket. Merlin wasn’t wearing his usual jacket over his tunic. He opens his mouth to comment on his discovery, then quickly shuts it when he remembers that he isn’t supposed to notice such things. To prevent his words from crawling up his throat and tumbling out of his mouth anyway, he stuffs his breakfast forcefully into his mouth.

   As Arthur finishes eating, pushing away from the table to get his chainmail and armour out on, he notices that the air inside his chambers has already gotten warmer. Glancing out the window, he sees the rays of the sun already shining out strongly over the square. No matter what he did, they were all going to suffer in the heat that day. With a grim sigh, he settles his shoulders. There was nothing to be done.

   Merlin slips his chainmail on, taking care not to catch his hair, then sets about putting his armour on. He buckles each strap with care, making sure they were snug enough, but not too tight so as to limit his movement. His fingers linger on the Prince much more than they should, and they both know it, but neither one comments on it. Arthur almost mourns the loss of Merlin’s touch once his servant finishes and steps back. He takes the sword held out in Merlin’s palms, and tucks his helmet under his arm. He has the distinct feeling that he wouldn’t be using it much that day. The heat already prickling at him insistently wouldn’t allow him to have his head covered for long.

   The trip through the castle halls isn’t a long one, but by the time they reach the doors, Arthur is already sweating. He doesn’t say anything, however, knowing that it was distasteful and frowned upon for the Prince to complain of such things. The air is warm as they step outside, making Arthur grimace discreetly. It may be un-Princely to complain about the heat verbally, but he could express his dislike for the conditions in the solitary safety of his head. Merlin catches his eye and smiles sympathetically. Arthur looks away. His servant was much too intuitive to Arthur’s thoughts and moods than any servant had a right to be.

   The knights are already assembled when they reach the training grounds, Leon leading the group through a series of stretches to prevent any major injuries from occurring. Merlin splits off, heading to the side to sit and watch as he usually did, as Arthur makes his way over to his men. They greet him as they should, with respectful bows of their heads and greetings of ‘My Lord’ and ‘Sire’.

   Training starts off well. The men work through the drills with the Prince despite the growing heat. It isn’t until Arthur glances over at Merlin that things so slightly downhill. At least, they do for Arthur. Merlin is still sitting where he always does, but in the heat, he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. If the unusual amount of skin now on display wasn’t enough to make Arthur falter, his servant also grips the bottom of his neckerchief and lifts it to wipe at his face, clearing the glistening sweat already forming there. All he was doing was sitting there. He had no right to be as hot as the knights currently running through drills. However, the glistening sweat on the knights’ brows was not nearly as tantalizing as Merlin’s. 

   With his attention fixed so strongly on Merlin’s neck, his fingers, and his damned neckerchief, the Prince misses the well aimed sword coming at his back from Sir Leon. The hit jars him forward, and he stumbles to one knee. Everyone in the vicinity stops and looks at him incredulously, Merlin included. Gritting his teeth, Arthur gets to his feet properly. 

   “That’s enough for today. The last thing I need is a bunch of men passing out from the heat.” He announces, pretending that he wasn’t the only one to land in the dirt that morning. His men all nod, politely not mentioning that fact either. He strides moodily over to Merlin, grabbing his upper arm to manhandle him back to the castle. His servant grumbles under his breath, something that could be ‘I can walk on my own, you prat’, but allows himself to get pulled along. Arthur ignores his servant, tugging him along beside him until they reach the castle.

   “Fetch water for a bath, Merlin.” He says, letting go and pushing Merlin slightly in the direction of the kitchens, where the water was generally heated. Merlin looks at him, an unreadable expression on his face, but does as he’s told. As Arthur turns and starts to make his way up to his chambers, his mind is elsewhere. Namely, on Merlin’s bare arms on display and his hands lifting that stupid neckerchief up to wipe at his brow. If he stumbles going up the stairs, no one is around to see it. 

~~~

   After the episode with the knights, Arthur does his best to ignore Merlin and his dressing habits. It proves difficult though, as his eyes are constantly drawn to Merlin’s neck, and the bit of cloth covering it. What was it about Merlin’s weird choice of dress that had so suddenly captured his attention? 

   A week and half passes relatively smoothly. The night following the tenth day, the heat wave finally breaks, a refreshing rain falling. A cool breeze picks up, and Merlin makes sure to leave the Prince’s windows open to cool out his chambers before he leaves for the night. For the first time since Camelot was plagued by sticky heat, Arthur sleeps soundly. He found it awfully difficult to sleep in the heat, constantly tossing and turning on his bed, cursing the weather ferociously in his head. He sleeps so well, in fact, that he’s still fast asleep when Merlin shows up to bring him breakfast, for which Merlin is thankful, since he was running late after being up extra early to go pick herbs for Gaius. Gwen had joined him, wanting to pick some fresh flowers for Morgana.

   “Rise and shine!” Merlin’s happy voice pulls a very reluctant Arthur from his slumber. He groans, burying his face in his pillows and mumbling nonsense that he knows is supposed to be a plea for a few more minutes of unconsciousness. Merlin, as usual, ignores him, and grips his arm firmly, pulling him with surprising strength. Arthur manages to stop himself before he hits the floor, and glares up at his servant. It falls from his face, however, as he comes eye level with the man’s throat. There, tucked in amongst the various folds and ruffles of his neckerchief, is a flower. A daisy, to be exact (not that the Prince would ever admit to knowing such a thing). 

   “Sire?” Merlin asks when he notices Arthur staring.

   “What is that?” He asks, voice still a little thick with sleep. Merlin looks down, confused. It soon clears from his face as he realizes what the Prince is referring to.

   Fingers reaching up to pluck the flower from the fabric, he replies, “Oh, Gwen gave it to me. I was out early gathering herbs for Gaius, and she joined me to get flowers for Morgana. She thought it looked good.” 

   Arthur looks up at that, wanting to see Merlin’s facial expression. To his surprise, the man is blushing slightly. For someone as in touch with their less  than masculine side as Merlin is, Arthur had never seen him blush all that often. His sleep addled brain tells him that he looks quite delicate when he blushes. It’s a very tasteful dusting of pink over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. 

   Merlin’s fingers tuck the flower back into his neckerchief as Arthur slowly sits up. He watches his servant as the man bustles away to his wardrobe, throwing it open with unnecessary force before riffling through the various garments to pick out his clothes for the day. Looking at Merlin’s back, where the cloth around his neck is wrapped and tied, he notices that the flush on his cheeks is also apparent on the skin of his neck. Tilting his head, Arthur studies the man until he starts to turn around, and he rips his gaze away, looking off across the room guiltily. 

   He ignores Merlin’s strange look as he approaches, simply getting to his feet instead. As Merlin gets closer, stepping right into his space, his eyes once again fall to the flower tucked in against his throat. It smells sweet, and for one inexplicable moment, Arthur wants to lean closer to see if the neckerchief it’s nestled in smells the same. He feels his body starts to shift closer, and forcefully rears backwards once he realizes what he’s doing.

   “Stay still!” Merlin chastises him, completely missing what the Prince had just done. Or almost done. Arthur, still a little shocked at his body’s obviously lacking self control, does as he’s told. He stays utterly still, barely daring to even breathe as Merlin pulls his tunic off, slipping the new one on over his head. Arthur refuses to even look at him as Merlin does up the laces at his throat, and brushes him aside to pull on and fasten his own trousers. He gets another odd look from the man for his behaviour, but he doesn’t say anything. For that, Arthur is grateful.

   Sitting down for breakfast, Arthur tries to occupy his mind with other things, but his thoughts always invariably return to Merlin’s neckerchief, and the flower currently scenting it. His fingers, already tightly curled around his cutlery, are itching to reach out and touch, to bring the fabric closer for a more serious inspection. 

   Deciding he’s had enough, Arthur shoves his dishes away, and says, “Take these down to the kitchens, then you can muck out my horses. When that’s done, I’m sure my laundry needs doing, then you can see to tidying my chambers.” He’s planning on being far away from his rooms by the time Merlin returns to do his chores.

   “Okay.” Merlin replies, drawing out the word slowly in confusion. “Is everything alright? You don’t usually leave any breakfast behind.”

   Arthur eyes his half eaten meal. “I’m fine, Merlin. Just do as you’re told.”

   He pushes away from the table, turning his back on the man as he moves to his desk. He had some reports to look over before the council meeting his father wanted him to attend that afternoon. He can feel Merlin’s eyes on him, but refuses to look up. He refuses to even breathe until Merlin slips out of the room, tray of breakfast leftovers balanced on one hand, and laundry basket perched on his other hip. Burying his head in his hands, Arthur groans. He had known his servant for at least a couple years by now. Why was he suddenly so distracting? Why did he suddenly capture Arthur’s attention, and refuse to let it go?

~~~

   Wanting to clear his head, Arthur decides to leave for a hunt a week later. He clears his schedule for the next two days with his father, the king being surprisingly willing to allow his son to leave the city. He must’ve noticed how out of sorts Arthur had been lately. Merlin doesn’t comment on the Prince’s sudden change of plans, but Arthur can see the knowing look in his eyes. He honestly hopes that Merlin doesn’t actually know what was plaguing him. How mortifying would it be if Merlin knew the extent to which he was distracting his master?

   They ride out in silence that afternoon, Merlin taking longer than usual to ready the horses and pack their supplies. Arthur manages to hold his tongue, priding himself on his ability to not insult his servant for once. The day is warm, but not as oppressively warm as it had been before. It’s a pleasant heat that warms Arthur’s back, and does wonders on his mind. The fresh air and sound of birdsong help clear his head beautifully, and he gives himself a mental pat on the back for having such a good idea.

   He has a relatively successful day hunting, managing to catch several rabbits for dinner. He narrowly misses a large stag, blaming Merlin’s bumbling ways for him missing his shot. He finds he doesn’t mind all that much when Merlin grins goofily at him in faux apology. 

   After a few hours of moving through the trees, Arthur notices the sun dipping closer to the horizon, and deems it time to set up camp. They make their way back to where they had left the horses, and Merlin immediately sets about setting up camp. As he lays out their bedrolls, collects firewood, starts the fire, and sees to the horses, Arthur sets about skinning the rabbits and preparing them to cook. His hands move methodically, more from muscle memory than any actual thought on Arthur’s part, allowing his mind to wander somewhat. He had prepared many animals to eat on patrols in the past. This time, however, his inattentiveness costs him. 

   As Merlin sits down across the fire from him, Arthur glances up. The flickering firelight catches Merlin’s eyes, making them shine. The ever changing shadows play across his cheekbones, making him look almost ethereal. His distraction causes his hand to slip slightly, the knife currently being used to prep the rabbit on the ground in front of him cutting into his other palm. Hissing, he drops the knife and their meal on the ground, lifting his bleeding hand up to his face for inspection.

   “Here.” Merlin says, jumping up to his feet and swiftly untying his neckerchief. Arthur stares up at him, dumbfounded, as he steps around the fire and crouches down in front of him. With deft fingers, he wraps the cloth around Arthur’s hand, expertly covering the slice across his palm. He squeezes his hand slightly as his fingers slip free from his skin. Arthur stares down at his now bandaged hand.

   Merlin’s neckerchief is still warm from being so close to the man’s body all day. It’s also softer than he had imagined it would be. It’s not made from fine fabrics, such as he is used to as a member of the Royal family, but it’s well worn and washed, the usage it’s gotten limbering up the rougher fabric. 

   “I’ll finish this.” Merlin says, stopping to grab the one rabbit left to prepare and Arthur’s knife, moving back around to his spot across the fire. Arthur glances up at him silently as he goes, but his eyes fall back to the cloth tied securely around his hand. As discreetly as possible, he lifts his hand, wanting to take advantage of the opportunity to finally settle his curiosity on what it smells like. He certainly was correct in his assumption that it would smell like Merlin. Not that he knows what Merlin smells like, of course not. It just has the scent that he expects Merlin to have. Earthy, and various herbs, and fresh morning air, with a hint of something flowery. Like the bath oils he always slips into Arthur’s bath water when he thinks the Prince isn’t looking. 

   Merlin expertly gets their dinner ready, and on the spit over the fire. Arthur splits his attention equally between his bandaged hand and the man who had done the bandaging. His servant looks relaxed and happy, leaning back against a fallen log as he stares into the fire. Every now and then, he’ll reach forward and lazily twist the branch holding the rabbits so they cook evenly. He looks way more at ease out here, surrounded by nature, than he ever has in the city, surrounded by stone and armed guards. 

   When they settle down for the night, Merlin leaves his neckerchief wrapped tightly around the Prince’s hand. If Arthur sleeps with his nose buried in the cloth, well, he’ll keep it a secret, buried deep down where his other quickly growing secret is held.

~~~

   Arthur slumps into his chambers after a long lecture from his father. Apparently Arthur had failed to look after some reports that he had been tasked with, and the king had been less than impressed. Arthur had stood there, allowing his father to berate him viciously, only leaving once the man was satisfied that Arthur would never dare to make a mistake again. Arthur would love to blame Merlin for distracting him so much lately, but knows that isn’t fair. Arthur was the Prince, and therefore, he should know better. Do better. Be better.

   Merlin looks up from sweeping the hearth as Arthur lets his chamber doors bang shut. He winces sympathetically as he takes in Arthur’s drawn and weary face. He knew that the king had summoned his son to his chambers, and had rightfully guessed that is wasn’t for anything good. 

   “That bad, huh?” He asks, getting to his feet and brushing off his knees. Arthur doesn’t even bother looking at him, knowing that the man would be able to read his emotions from just his eyes alone.

   “Don’t you have something to be doing?” He asks listlessly, already moving to his desk to complete the task he had forgotten to do. He only gets about halfway across the room before Merlin intercepts him.

   “Arthur.” Merlin says, not continuing until the Prince grudgingly looks up. “Whatever your father said, he’s wrong.”

   Arthur scoffs, looking away again. “You have no idea what my father said. You couldn’t possibly know if it was wrong, or not.”

   Brushing past the man, he moves to continue his trek to his desk, but Merlin’s hand latching around his bicep stops his again. “I know that you’re a good man, Arthur. I know that your people love you. I know that you’ll make a great king when the time comes, much better than your father is.”

   The Prince frowns, turning to look at Merlin again. He fully intends to tell him off for talking so lowly about the king. However, Merlin’s eyes are shining with something. Arthur isn’t quite sure what, but he’d almost say that it was adoration. He opens his mouth, but no words come. After a moment of standing there mute, he finally snaps his jaws shut with an audible click.

   “When you become king,” Merlin continues softly after a moment, “you’re going to change everything. And I’ll be right here beside you, helping you and supporting you.”

   The Prince inhales sharply at the words. Merlin looks so sincere, so open and trusting and loving, that it takes Arthur’s breath away. His eyes flick over Merlin’s face, taking in every feature, every emotion flashing through his liquid blue eyes. When his eyes catch on the man’s mouth, however, they refuse to look away.

   His fingers itch to reach out and touch again, so he lets them, his right hand coming up to curl around Merlin’s ever present neckerchief. It doesn’t take much of a tug to pull Merlin closer, his mouth willingly seeking out Arthur’s. The world seems to slow down and stop, the air around them becoming silent, as he relaxes into the embrace. Arthur presses his lips languidly against his friend’s, memorizing the feel of Merlin kissing him back. A shiver runs up and down his spine as he pulls Merlin closer, fingers still wrapped tightly around the soft material tied around Merlin’s throat. When he finally, reluctantly, pulls away, he feels more at ease than he ever has before.

   Blinking his eyes open, he looks serenely into Merlin’s somewhat dazed face. He feels a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he rests his forehead against his friend’s, his eyes drifting shut again. He inhales deeply, letting it out over a contented sigh. 

   After a long moment, he murmurs, “Thank you, Merlin.”

   Merlin leans closer and brushes his lips lightly over the Prince’s again. “Anything for you, Arthur.”

   For once, there’s no hint of teasing in his tone, no cheeky playfulness evident anywhere. He sounds earnest and sincere. Arthur smiles, keenly aware that he probably looks a little lovesick and dopey. He finds that he really doesn’t care. 

   Pulling away, he gives Merlin a chaste kiss on his cheek, right below his left eye. He lingers for a moment before stepping back out of Merlin’s comforting arms. When he makes his way to his desk, he feels much lighter than he did before, his father’s harsh words all but forgotten. As he sits, pulling parchment and ink pot closer, Merlin goes back to tidying his chambers. Everything feels much the same as it had before, and yet so vastly different. For the first time in his life, Arthur doesn’t mind different. In fact, he finds that he rather likes it. Quite a lot. 

   That night, as he slips beneath the bed linens and light blankets, he feels something hidden beneath his pillows. Something not usually there. With a frown, he fishes it out, a smile forming on his face as he recognizes the neckerchief Merlin had been wearing that day. He has no idea when Merlin left it there, but his heart flutters at the sight of the fabric. Holding it close to his nose, he inhales deeply, feeling his body involuntarily relax. 

   For the second time in a fortnight, Arthur falls asleep with Merlin’s neckerchief wrapped snugly around his hand, held close to his face where the scent can reach his nose. As slumber pleasantly tugs on his mind, Arthur finds himself thinking that maybe secrets were a little overrated. Maybe he really shouldn’t keep that one overgrown secret of his hidden away. Maybe he’d be a little bit happier with it out in the open. His lips tingle at the thought, still remembering the feel of Merlin’s mouth pressed his his. It’s a good memory. 

Chapter Text

   At six A.M. sharp, Arthur’s alarm goes off. Just like every morning. After fumbling to turn it off, he rolls over and presses a kiss to his sleeping husband's shoulder. Just like every morning. He slips out of bed carefully and quietly, so as to not disturb the sleeping angel, and pulls his uniform on. Just like every morning. Once in the kitchen, he cooks breakfast, wolfing his down with a cup of lukewarm coffee and puts the leftovers in the fridge so his husband has a good breakfast already made when he wakes up. Just like every morning. Then he grabs his jacket and keys and leaves their penthouse flat and makes his way to work. Just like every morning.

   Arthur walks through the doors of the Precinct at seven A.M. sharp. The other officers all look up and stand up a little straighter. He waves off their formality as he steps further into the building. 

   “Good morning, Captain Pendragon." A passing rookie greets as Arthur passes by. He smiles politely. 

   "You too, Officer King." He gets flustered that Arthur knows his name, but manages to hide it well enough. Arthur continues on to his office, closing the door behind him before moving on to his desk.

   The desktop is bland and uncluttered, just how Arthur likes it to be. The other men and women always find it strange that he doesn’t even have a photo of his husband on his desk. He always tell them that he likes to keep his personal and work lives separate. That also explains why his husband never comes by to visit or to even say hi. If only they all knew the truth. Arthur throws his jacket around the back of his chair and settles down, pulling his current paperwork closer to the edge of the desk.

   Time passes quickly enough, and soon Arthur finds it to already be close to one o'clock. That's when his typical every day routine gets broken. Officer Greene bursts into his office without so much as a knock, looking panic stricken. 

   “Sir, sorry to burst in, but this is urgent. You requested to be notified about any Dragonlord gang activity." He says in a rush.

   Arthur’s ears perk up, making him shove the papers still unfinished away. "They've been spotted?" He asks, heart now hammering in his chest. The younger officer nods his head. Arthur moves to get up, checking that his holster and gun are in place before throwing his jacket on and heading for the door where Officer Greene is currently standing. "Let's go. Tell me the details on the way."

   The Precinct outside the Captain’s office is a bustle of quick and hurried activity as people get ready for whatever is about to go down. "Okay. Give me the quick version." Arthur tells Officer Greene. He nods, and begins giving him the run down of the situation. 

   "We got an anonymous tip about half an hour ago that Emrys was planning on moving some big ammunition this afternoon. I guess he decided that a midday move would be less expected, so therefore safer. It took us about twenty minutes to verify that the source was correct, then we started to make our move against him. There's an abandoned warehouse on the corner of Taylor and Sixth that is supposedly the site where it's all going down."

   Arthur discreetly rolls his eyes at the code name, or nickname, that the leader of the Dragonlord gang goes by. Emrys. What did it even mean? And what did it have to do with dragons? Or lords? "Okay. Let's get our men down there. You're with me." 

   They rush out to the cars, the others following around them. Arthur slides behind the wheel of one of the brand new cruisers and starts the engine. He can't help but to grin as it roars to life. Officer Greene buckles up as he does before Arthur flicks the sirens on, pushes the shift into reverse, and speeds backwards. Shifting into drive, Arthur floors the gas and shoots off to the abandoned warehouse where the most elusive criminal mastermind is doing some kind of business deal.

   Sure enough, as Arthur slams on the brakes, shoving the gearshift into park, people scatter. Other cruisers pull up as he flings his door open and steps out. He pulls his gun out, holding it up at shoulder height, but stays behind the open car door for safety. 

   "Police! Stop moving!" Okay, so maybe that wasn't completely official wording, but he has to shake things up sometimes, or else things just got stale. There's a frenzy of movement as people run for cover, the other officers following Arthur’s lead.

   “Time is up, Emrys!" He calls. "Give it up, we've got you!" Arthur hears a faint laugh, but it's muffled and hard to discern properly.

   “Do you actually?" It then calls, distorted by something.

   Next thing Arthur knows, a shot rings out. "Shit!" He curses, signalling to his men to return fire. "We can't let them get away!" About fifteen or so officers break out into return fire. The blond joins in, aiming carefully before pulling the trigger each time. A bullet shatters the glass of his car's windshield beside him, making him instinctively duck. 

   “Dammit!" He growls, swapping his gun out for the one stuck tucked into his ankle holster. Looking over at Officer Greene on the other side of the vehicle, he motions that he’s okay.

   He looks over his shoulder, through the car door window beside him, and sees a familiar figure starting to run to the warehouse door, and therefore safety and escape. Emrys. Standing up, Arthur brings his arm out in one fluid motion, then squeezes the trigger. Time seems to slow down as he watches the figure jolt, stumble, then fall, disappearing out of sight. 

   His blood runs cold as he hears a distinctly familiar voice call out, "Fuck!" His heart is roaring in his ears, vision zoned in on the figure getting up, holding a now visibly red shoulder. He shoots a look over his shoulder before making another break for it, and now disappearing inside. One by one, his men follow until all of them are inside. Arthur’s officers follow them in, but it's no good. They're long gone. 

   'Bugger.' Arthur thinks. 'I'm not gonna hear the end of this now.' 

~~~

   Arthur is dreading going home by the end of the day. He half-heartedly finds any reason he can to prolong his time at work, but he eventually runs out of excuses to stay. With reluctant steps, and an impending sense of doom, he slowly makes his way to the Precinct's elevator and pushes the button. Once it arrives, he pushes the button for the underground parking garage. He takes equally as reluctant steps to his car once he reaches the garage level. Other than the cruisers and the few night shift officers, it's the only car left in the vast lot. With a heavy heart, he climbs in and starts it before making his way back to his flat that he and his husband own. Much too soon for his liking, he’s parking in their spot outside.

   The flat is quiet as he unlocks it and pushes the door open, but he knows that Merlin is home. There's a distinct smell of food that is much too strong to be anything other than freshly made dinner. A smile makes its way onto Arthur’s face. Maybe this won't be as bad as he thought. Unless he’s poisoned Arthur’s plate, which sometimes Arthur wouldn't put past him. They love each other, really, but Merlin can sometimes be a force of nature. And a force not to be reckoned with at that. 

   "Hi, Love." Arthur calls out, voice shaking slightly as he steps further into their home. He jumps as Merlin suddenly appears before him. Arthur focuses on his face, which is currently impassive, but his eyes are flashing with annoyance. 

   "Hi, Love." He says mockingly. "How was your day at work, Love?" He asks. 

   Arthur flinches a little and mumbles, "It was okay, I guess." Merlin tilts his head to the side and huffs in annoyance. "Uhm..." Arthur stops and clears his throat, dreading asking the question that he knows Merlin wants him to ask. He shifts nervously, toes of his right foot scuffing against the dark carpet.

   “How-how was your day?" He finally asks meekly, getting ready for the onslaught that's about to come his way.

   "Oh, it was just fantastic." Merlin gushes sarcastically. "Except for one little thing. You know, HOW YOU SHOT ME!" He yells. Arthur flinches away, cheeks reddening in shame. He looks up bashfully. 

   "I know, and I'm so sorry!" Arthur cries, wanting nothing more than to take Merlin into his arms, but staying where he is. He look over the bandages across Merlin’s shoulder now and winces. "I aimed to the left of you, but then you moved or something. I don't know! You know that I'd never actually aim to hit you!" Arthur stumbles through his explanation, Merlin’s eyes shooting daggers at him. He doesn’t bothering trying to lie and saying it was one of the other officers, cause they both know that, that bullet had come from his gun. 

   “I'm sorry." He says again, voice dripping with sincerity. 

   Merlin sniffs haughtily before spinning on his heel and marching away toward the kitchen. "I bought your dumb ass dinner. Come eat it before it gets cold." 

   Arthur stumbles forward, getting to the kitchen just as Merlin is sinking stiffly into his seat. On the table are two plates, already loaded up with spaghetti and meatballs. Arthur approaches the table and sits meekly down into his usual spot across from his husband. Merlin starts eating in silence, eyes trained intently on the middle of the table to avoid looking at him. The blond sighs heavily, then grabs his own fork and starts eating.

   Halfway through the meal, Merlin starts to relax. He finally looks up at the man across from him, meeting his pleading and very apologetic eyes. He doesn't say anything, but his facial features soften a little. Arthur knows that Merlin is now on his way to forgiving him. 

   "So." Merlin’s voice clears through the tense silence. "How did you know that I was doing my move and drop today?" He asks, eyes now curious. Arthur shrugs. 

   "We had an anonymous tip that turned out to be legit. Sounds like you have a rat in your ranks." To Arthur’s surprise Merlin just smirks at his words. He chuckles slightly as he takes in his husband’s shocked facial expression.

   "Please." Merlin scoffs. "I sent out that narc to rat us out." Silence takes over the table once again as his words process in Arthur’s brain. 

   "Wait, what?" Arthur splutters. Merlin grins wider, trying to not laugh and jostle his shoulder. "Why?" He asks incredulously. Merlin controls himself, but his eyes are sparkling with amusement as he meets Arthur’s eyes. He winces slightly as he moves his shoulder, making guilt well up in the blond’s stomach again. However, it quickly passes and Merlin is once again smirking across the table. 

   "You know I love seeing my sexy ass husband in his uniform. Gets me all hot and bothered." He says, voice low and husky. Arthur’s eyes flick down to the table as a blush creeps over his cheeks. "However, if I knew that said sexy ass husband would shoot me, I wouldn't have."

   Now Arthur’s cheeks redden further in shame. He looks up apologetically again, opening his mouth to apologize again, but Merlin holds up his hand to stop him. "Yeah, I know. You're sorry. That doesn't heal the painful wound in my shoulder. You're lucky I have a ridiculously high pain tolerance. And that I love you so much." 

   He pushes his chair back and gets to his feet, face registering his discomfort. Leaving his plate on the table, he exits the room. Arthur stays sitting, the faint sounds of the TV drifting in from the sitting room. Groaning, Arthur rests his head in his hands, massaging his temples in a desperate attempt to ward off his incoming headache. It doesn't work. 

   Now, Arthur knows what people would think if they knew the truth about his love life. How does the Captain of a Precinct have a husband who just so happens to be the most notorious criminal this city has had for decades? The answer isn't exactly simple.

   Merlin and Arthur had met when Arthur was a new detective in Camelot, trying to work his way up the ladder of command. Merlin had been funny and charming, and that paired with his amazingly good looks? Arthur didn't even stand a chance. He had heard of the infamous Dragonlord gang, but didn't think anything of it as he and Merlin started to get to know each other. That quickly changed to dating, and before long the blond was starting to fall in love with the black haired, blue eyed beauty. 

   About a year and a half into their relationship, Arthur noticed Merlin's odd disappearances. He always came back fine, but Arthur couldn't help being suspicious. Naturally, he immediately jumped to the conclusion that he was cheating on him. He didn't want to sound like the jealous, controlling boyfriend, though, so he never brought up the subject. Merlin never came home smelling like another man, or a woman for that matter, so Arthur left his concerns unvocalized. 

   However, that changed about a few months after Merlin’s strange behaviour started. He stumbled into their meagre apartment, they had lived in a more shady place back then, with a few bruises littered over his face and a hand pressed to a still bleeding gash over his ribs. In a panic, Arthur had scooped him up and taken him to the nearest hospital.

   Obviously, they had asked him what had happened, and Merlin said that he had been mugged on his way home from work. They bought it. Arthur didn't. First of all, Arthur knew that Merlin had, had the entire day off work, and even if he hadn't, he never worked past five o'clock. Merlin had stumbled into their home at about half past nine. Second, when one lived with someone, and knew them as well as he and Merlin knew each other, one knows when the other is lying. 

   Arthur manages to kept his mouth shut, though, allowing the nurses to whisk Merlin away to patch him up. He was discharged the next day, and as soon as the front door was closed and locked behind them, Arthur had demanded the truth. Merlin had looked so torn, which had confused the blond. But mostly, he'd looked terrified. 

   "Please don't hate me." His words had cut right through Arthur’s heart. He could never hate Merlin. His boyfriend hadn’t look reassured, however. No, instead he just looked sick as he pulled Arthur over to their ratty sofa and made him sit down. He had then proceeded to pace nervously in front of him as he told Arthur everything. How he had been a part of the Dragonlord gang even back when they had first met. How he had been given a bigger role in things a few months ago (that's where he was always disappearing off to). Finally, he told Arthur that last night an op had gone wrong, and he'd been caught in the middle.

   Arthur sat in stunned silence as he had taken in his boyfriend’s story. Merlin had lied to him about who he really was for the entire time that they had known each other. Arthur had asked if he had lied about his feelings for him too, but Merlin had insisted that he hadn't. He loved Arthur, more than anything, and had never lied about it. He even assured the blond that he hadn't used his position in the police force to his advantage. That the gang didn't even know that his boyfriend was an officer. Arthur had thought about leaving him, but by then he was already so head over heels for the man that he couldn't bear the thought of losing him forever.

   Fast forward to now, and they’re married. Secretly, course. At least for now, anyway. Arthur is the Captain of his own Precinct, and Merlin is the leader of his gang. Things are— how would they put it in the simplest terms? Complicated? 

   Sighing heavily, Arthur pushes away from the table, grabbing both now empty plates and carrying them to the kitchen sink. He places them in the stainless steel basin and runs water over them, letting them soak, and vowing to wash them later. Then, he follows his wounded husband out to the sitting room.

   Merlin is sitting stiffly on the sofa, face contorted in pain. "Would you like some painkillers?" Arthur asks softly, not liking seeing his love in such a condition. Merlin looks over and nods appreciatively. Arthur makes his way down to the bathroom and pulls back the mirror, revealing the medicine cabinet behind. He grabs the heavy duty painkillers from when he sprained his ankle badly last summer, chasing Merlin down an alley while on duty, and goes back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

   "Here you go, Darling." Arthur says, handing both items over to him. Merlin takes them gratefully, putting two pills into his mouth and washing them down with water. When Arthur makes no move to sit down, Merlin glances up at him. His eyes soften at the hesitance practically oozing from every pore of Arthur’s body. 

   "C'mere." He says, patting the spot beside him. Arthur pauses for a moment longer before doing as he says and sitting down, being careful of his shoulder as he cuddles up against him. 

   "I'm sorry for shooting you." Arthur says again, just really wanting to make sure that his husband doesn't think he had done it on purpose. 

   "I know." Merlin says. "And I also know that you didn't do it on purpose. Stuff happens so fast out in the field, and that's not your fault." The younger man turns his head to look at Arthur’s still sorrowful face.

   “You know that I love you, right?" Merlin asks quietly. A soft smile makes its way to Arthur’s previously worried face, heart still fluttering at the words, even after all this time. 

   "Yes." Arthur smiles softly. "And I love you, too. More than anything." Merlin leans forward and presses a kiss to Arthur’s lips before hissing in pain and sitting back against the sofa. 

   "Bugger, that hurts." He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. Arthur winces, knowing that Merlin’s only in this state because of him. He knows that he really shouldn't feel guilty, seeing as he was only doing his job. But still. He had shot his husband. A snicker passes his lips the more he thinks about it, causing Merlin to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

   "I can't believe I shot my husband." Arthur says with a chuckle. Merlin cracks a smile, laced with pain, as he tries to hold back a laugh of his own. 

   "Honestly," Merlin replies, "I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner." Arthur nods in agreement, trying in vain to calm his laughter. It isn't really funny. Truth be told, a little more over to one side and he could've killed him for God sake. 

   "I'm glad you're okay." Arthur adds more sombrely. Merlin meets his eyes and smiles softly. 

   "As long as I have you, I'll always be fine." Merlin says sincerely. 

   Yeah, their relationship is complicated, but they make it work. Somehow.

Chapter Text

   Merlin sighs happily, stretched out on his back with the sun on his face. There’s a light breeze ruffling his hair, and pulling slightly at his loose tunic and open jacket. The grass beneath his head is lush and soft, the perfect place to simply lay down and relax. Arms behind his head, he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. The last bit of tension bleeds from his body as he practically melts into the ground. 

   “Hello, Merlin.” A familiar voice says, smile evident in the tone. Merlin cracks an eye open.

   “Arthur?” He asks, fully opening both eyes as Arthur’s soft grin shines down at him.

   The blond slowly sinks down onto the ground beside him. “It’s been a while.”

   “Yeah.” Merlin says, sitting up himself. “You could say that.”

   They lapse into silence as Arthur nods slowly, eyes never straying from the warlock beside him. Merlin looks him over, his magic prickling under his skin at the sight of his king again. It really had been a while. Merlin had missed him dearly.

   “Where’ve you been?” He finally asks, voice slightly strained past his emotion clogged throat. Arthur hums thoughtfully, twisting his mouth slightly as he chews over his words. 

   “I’m not really sure.” Arthur slowly replies. “It’s hard to explain.” He smiles apologetically, shrugging one shoulder up to his ear. Merlin’s heart flips in his chest. Tears prick at the backs of his eyes, and all he really wants to do is crawl into Arthur’s lap and feel his warmth against his body, but he doesn’t.

   “Gods, Arthur, I’ve missed you.” He rushes out over a shaky breath. Arthur smiles at him, a small tug at the corners of his lips. Much softer then he had ever smiled at Merlin in the past.

   “I know.” The blond replies. “I’ve seen you, waiting for me.” His blue eyes fill with pain. “I’ve missed you, too, Merlin.”

   A sob crawls it’s way up Merlin’s throat, and he reaches out for man beside him. He wants to feel him, to brush his hands over his jaw, run his fingers through his hair, feel the steady beat of his heart through his tunic. Arthur doesn’t move to meet his reaching hands, though, just stays where he is with a sad kind of resignation in his eyes.

   “Just wait a little longer, Merlin.” The king says, making Merlin frown in confusion.

   “What? Arthur, what are talking about? You’re here already.” He says, making Arthur’s eyes flash with more pain. “Arthur?”

   Merlin sits up in bed suddenly, gasping for breath. His entire body is shaking uncontrollably, and there’s a tightness in his chest that he doesn’t remember being there for a long, long time. It’s the crushing weight of loss, and it’s so strong that he feels like he can’t breathe. Lifting a trembling hand, he settles his fingers over his chest. His heart is pounding beneath his ribcage, blood rushing through his veins. 

   “Arthur?” He breathes, looking around the empty bedroom of his flat. He’s alone, as he usually is these days. He feels different, though. He can’t really describe it, but if he had to, he’d say there was something else inside him. Something other than just himself. It’s an odd feeling, and for the first time in months, he lets his magic out a little bit, probing at his body in an attempt to figure out what it was. His searching brings forth no answers, and he’s left sitting in bed, sweating and still struggling to catch a full a breath. 

  This wasn’t the first time he had dreamed of Arthur. His hours spent asleep were often plagued by memories of his king, his friend, the man he loved more dearly than anything else. However, he usually dreamed of memories. Times spent in the armoury, or out on hunts, or sitting in his chambers and sharing a jug of wine. He sometimes dreamt of other memories, less happy times. When Arthur was bitten by the Questing Beast. When he had drunk a chalice full of poison to save Arthur’s life. Watching Arthur drink the goblet full of sleeping draught, that they had both believed to be poison. On really bad nights, he’d dream of holding Arthur’s failing body close to his chest, feeling the life leave his friend. 

   This dream was different. It wasn’t a memory. He and Arthur had never shared a conversation like that back in Camelot. He could recall every single moment they spent together, and this one wasn’t familiar. How he had dreamt it, and why, was beyond his current grasp. 

   Swinging shaky legs over the edge of the bed, Merlin leans his head in his hands, elbows braced on his knees. He scrubs at his eyes furiously, both hoping and dreading the potential of seeing Arthur’s face behind his closed eyelids. All he sees is stars. Getting to his feet, he slowly makes his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. Or perhaps something stronger. 

   After downing two full glasses of tap water, Merlin eyes the nearly full bottle of red wine on the counter top. He almost grabs it before shaking his head at himself and moving to fill the coffee pot instead. He rubs blearily at his eyes as the machine whirs to life, slowly heating up the reservoir. Merlin can still clearly see Arthur’s face in his mind, hear his voice ringing in his ears. 

   “Just wait a little longer.” He had said. How much longer did Merlin really have to wait? Had he not waited enough already?

   The sound of the coffee finally brewing, slowly filling the pot, pulls him from his thoughts. He didn’t know what kind of dream he had just woken from, but part of him desperately wanted to go back. The other part wanted to avoid ever seeing his king like that again. Maybe he was finally losing his mind? Slowly spiralling into insanity? He had been around long enough. Maybe he was entitled to a foray into madness.

   Shaking his head at himself, he pulls a mug from the cupboard, then cream and honey from their respective places, and brings them back to the now full coffee pot. His hands are still shaking slightly as he pours the hot liquid into his empty mug, splashing some over the counters. He curses softly, reaching for the cloth draped over the faucet as he sets the pot back down. After wiping up his mess, he mixes in the cream and honey, putting them away before swiping the mug off the counter and unsteadily making his way over to his sofa.

   The world outside is still dark, everyone no doubt sleeping soundly. He has no idea what time it really is, but it has to be early. A yawn nearly cracks his jaw, and he takes a fortifying sip from his mug. He had crawled into bed last night late as it was. His body was certainly not appreciating the early morning wake up call. Trying his best to empty his mind of all coherent thought, Merlin stares out the half covered window and simply sips his drink. 

   By the time he’s finished his second mug, there’s a hint of light at the horizon. With another yawn he gets to his feet. It was close enough to his usual time getting up that he may as well just start his day. 

   Leaving his mug unwashed in the sink, he makes his way back to his bedroom. He doesn’t look at the queen size bed, the sight only bringing back memories of his dream. Crossing the room to his dresser, he pulls open various drawers, tugging out clothes for the day. Once his arms are full, he leaves his room. He swears he can hear something in his head, telling him to go back. He ignores the subtle voice, choosing instead to drown it out with a cold shower. 

   He makes his way to the small, cramped bathroom lethargically, his lack of sleep already weighing heavily on his body and mind. Once inside, he dumps his armful of clothes onto the counter, and strips out of his pyjamas. Kicking them into the corner of the small room, he twists the water on, testing the temperature to make sure it’s only just barely warm at all. Satisfied, he steps under the stream of water and scrubs at his face. The cold water jolts his system, and he feels marginally more awake. 

   After quickly scrubbing his hair and body down with soap, he rinses himself off, then cranks the temperature to as hot as he can stand it. He stands under the stream, letting it pour over the back of his head, run down his shoulders and back, before caressing his legs. As the water starts to run cold again, he twists it off. 

   Grabbing his towel, he ruffles his hair then half-heartedly dries himself off. Tugging his clothes on, he retreats from the bathroom, leaving his pyjamas on the floor to be picked up later. He stops in the kitchen again to make another cup of coffee, and pours himself a bowl of cereal. His mind tries to wander back to Arthur, back to how at ease he had seemed in his dream, but doesn’t let himself ruminate on it for too long. It makes his heart twist too much. Again, he is overcome with an urge to simply crawl back into bed, to see his king again. Instead, he pushes away from the table, and makes his way to the door to pull his shoes on. He didn’t start work for another couple hours, at least, but getting there early was better than being here.

   His trip to the small bookshop where he works isn’t normally a long one, but it takes twice as long as usual with how slow his limbs are willing to move that morning. By the time he finally pushes the front door open, the little bell tinkling above the door as the heavy wood swings open, he’s already ready to just go back to bed.

   “Merlin? You’re here early, aren’t you?” His coworker, and friend, Genevieve says. 

   Merlin offers her a wan smile as he moves to join her behind the desk. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well last night. Woke up early, and being here was better than being there.”

   The woman gives him a shrewd, assessing look. “Is everything all right? You look a little spooked.”

   “Yeah.” Merlin says, sounding terribly distracted, even to his own ears. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

~~~

   “I forgot how beautiful the stars were.” Arthur says conversationally. Merlin sits up, the stones of the castle battlements still radiating warmth around him. 

   “Arthur? When did you get here?” He asks, looking around at the otherwise empty portion of the city wall he had been previously lying on. 

   The blond looks at him. “I haven’t left since last time. I’ve been waiting for you.” The King replies. Merlin wrinkles his nose in confusion. 

   “Waiting for me?” He asks. “What do you mean?” 

   Arthur doesn’t answer, just smiles at him slightly. It looks sad, and for some reason, it sets Merlin’s blood buzzing in his veins, and his skin tingling hotly under his clothes. He watches as Arthur looks back up at the dark sky. The stars did indeed look beautiful that night. They were bright against the black backdrop of the night sky. A few even appeared to twinkle above them, almost like they were laughing. When Merlin decides that he isn’t going to get an answer from his friend, he turns his head to look up as well.

   The silence between them stretches on, and Merlin finds himself actually relaxing into it. It felt  easy. Like it always had between them back in Camelot. Back here. The steady presence of Arthur beside him felt so natural that he found himself not even questioning it. Instead, he merely enjoyed it. 

   Turning his head, he finally says, “The stars really are nice tonight, aren’t they?”

   Arthur looks at him with a wider smile. “They are. It’s peaceful here. I like it.” He nods as he looks around, like he’s surveying his old kingdom. Merlin looks around, too. While there’s no one else up with them, high above the city, there are vague signs of life below. The houses stretching out away from them all have flickering lights in their windows. Thin wisps of smoke rise up into the air here and there, signifying fires. No one is out, though. There’s no people walking around, heading home, conversing with friends.

   “Arthur, I—” Merlin starts, but Arthur cuts him off.

   “Patience, Merlin. You need to keep waiting.” The blond says. His voice is casual. Unhurried. It makes Merlin frown.

   “What do you mean, Arthur? Why?” He asks, just wanting a straight answer. Why could he never get straight answers from anyone?

   “Soon.” Is all Arthur says, before he slowly gets to his feet. Merlin scrambles up after him, reaching out to grab his arm. His hand falls through thin air as Arthur steps back just out of reach.

   “Arthur?” Merlin whispers. The man looks back at him, with those same pained eyes as before. He opens his mouth to speak, but never gets the chance to say the words.

   Merlin inhales sharply as his eyes snap open. His heart is once again thundering in his chest, his breathing fast and slightly ragged. The image of Arthur is still so vivid in his mind, his senses so overwhelmed, that he can almost still sense his presence beside him. Still catch a hint of his familiar scent. Looking around, he sees his room empty. The alarm clock beside him reads 1:53. Groaning, he reaches up to rub at his tired eyes. One dream he could count as a coincidence. Even two. But this? Not so much. It had been a week already, and still there seemed to be no end to his dreams of Arthur.

   Slowly getting out of bed, Merlin pads out of his room on bare feet. The kitchen tiles are cold against his skin, but he doesn’t really mind too much. The sensation has the added benefit of waking him up a little more. As he reaches the sink, filling a glass with cold water from the tap, he debates his options. Stay awake, and pay for his decision dearly later, or go back to bed. Back to his dreams of his king. 

   His heart twists a little in his chest, and he has to lay his free hand on the counter to steady himself. He desperately wants to see Arthur again. He wants to hear his voice, his laugh. See his eyes sparkling with amusement, his golden hair reflecting the sun and giving him a halo of light. He squeezes his eyes shut as longing builds up inside him, tasting bitter on his tongue.

   After draining the glass, he sets it down and turns around to lean back against the counter. Sighing heavily, he runs a hand back through his messy hair. Sleep is tugging at his eyes, coaxing him back to his comfortable bed. If he followed its enticing call, what would he find upon closing his eyes? Would he see Arthur again? Would he finally be able to touch him again, as he had been denied up to this point? With a groan, he rubs at his tired eyes. The middle of the night was much too early to be awake, much less stay awake. Dropping his hands to his sides, he looks at the hallway leading to his bedroom. There was nothing else to be done. If he wanted to be able to function at all later, he needed to try to rest now.

   Shaky legs take him back to his room. His heart starts up a fast rhythm again as he steps through the doorway. The sheets and blankets are still tangled where he left them, his alarm clock now reading 2:02. Closing his eyes for a moment, he takes two big, deep breaths, letting them out through his nose slowly. As he starts across his bedroom towards his bed, his magic tingles in his fingertips. It grows, climbing up his arms, as he slides back into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. By the time he closes his eyes again, his entire body is buzzing like it’s full of electricity.

   Sleep comes quickly, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s no longer in his room, but out in the forest surrounding what used to be Camelot. There’s a wind whistling through the trees, but it’s not cold. In fact, if anything, it’s quite warm, bringing the promise of hot summer days, and lazy summer nights. A smile works its way across Merlin’s lips as he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The smell of fresh flowers and sapling trees fills his nose, warming him from the inside out.

   “Back again so soon?” Asks a voice behind him. Merlin keeps his eyes closed, and let’s his smile grow. 

   “Of course.” He replies easily. Almost too easily, considering his trepidation before crawling back into bed. Something about Arthur’s presence, even now, put him at ease. “If I was gone too long, you’d get bored.”

   The answering laugh has him turning around, eyes fluttering open to take in the sight of his beloved king laughing. He always had a great laugh, Merlin thought. He laughed with his entire being, letting it fill him up until it overflowed. It was contagious, and Merlin had often found himself fighting back a smile when Arthur had laughed all those many years ago, quite often at his expense. The prat.

   Eyes still sparkling merrily, Arthur replies, “Well, things would certainly be a lot more dull. I can’t quite remember what life was like before you so gracefully showed up.”

   Merlin’s smile turns into something more resembling a goofy grin, and Arthur looks at him almost fondly. The wind picks up again for a moment, ruffling their hair, and Merlin turns his face into it. The leaves on the trees seem to whisper amongst themselves as their branches get stirred by the breeze, the sound wrapping around Merlin and invading his senses. He had missed the forests around Camelot. They had always been so peaceful. Many good memories had been created here, with many different people. Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, Gwen. Even Morgana, before everything went sideways. He feels his magic mourn the loss of his friends, and forces his mind to happier things.

   “This is really you, isn’t it? I’m not just remembering past events wrong.” Merlin says. He slowly turns his head to look at Arthur. The blond is already looking back, that old familiarly serious expression on his face.

   “I don’t know how, but I know this is real.” Arthur replies. “This is the only way I was allowed to see you.”

   Merlin frowns slightly. “So, what, the Sidhe decided to let you visit me in my dreams? I can see you as long as I’m unconscious?”

   Arthur nods mutely in reply. Merlin looks away, chewing on his lower lip as he thinks that over. He gets to see Arthur every time he’s asleep, but that also means he has to say goodbye every time he wakes up. How many times can he leave his love behind in this world before he can’t take it anymore? When he looks back at Arthur, looks over his regal form, the curve of his jaw, the line of his shoulders, he feels torn. He wants to stay here, with Arthur, forever. But how could he when he needed to wake up in the real world to stay alive? To keep waiting?

   “Merlin,” Arthur says, taking a step closer, “don’t overthink it. At least I get to see you again. You get to see me. After all our years waiting, we can talk again.”

   Tears prickle at Merlin’s eyes. “But it’s not really the same, is it?”

   “No, but it’s the best we’ve got.” Arthur replies, a sad smile pulling at one side of his mouth. Merlin bites down on his lower lip harder, feeling himself nod in agreement.

   “Yeah.” He breathes. “It’s the best we’ve got.” He lifts slightly misty eyes to meet Arthur’s equally sad ones. “Let’s make the most of it then.” 

   The King smiles back, nodding encouragingly. Merlin inhales deeply, and let’s it out slowly. How long would he be able to do this before he eventually lost his mind?

~~~

   His friends are worried about him, Merlin can tell. They thought he missed their furtive looks and concerned whispers, but he doesn’t. He simply ignores them, though, not having the emotional energy to discuss his current state of mind to them. He goes about his usual routine as always. Gets up for work in the morning, has a meagre breakfast and a cup of coffee. He goes through the motions at work, too. He greets the customers, is pleasant as he helps them. He even goes out for drinks now and then, conversing with his new friends. But he is closed off. He never goes into too much detail about his days anymore. He rarely adds anything of great personal importance to their conversations. He knows that they simply wouldn’t understand. How could he explain to them that he saw his lost love in his sleep, without sounding crazy?

   “Merlin, mate, you okay?” His friend Thomas asks. The man strongly reminded Merlin of Lancelot. That’s what had drawn Merlin to him in the first place. And just like with Lancelot, Merlin always felt bad about lying to him. It really couldn’t be helped sometimes, though.

   “Yeah.” Merlin replies, rubbing at his face with one hand. “Just... having some issues with sleeping right now.”

   Thomas nods understandingly. Except he doesn’t understand. There was no way he could. Not really. Still, Merlin appreciates the effort, the support, and he smiles at his friend. The man still looks worried, though, his eerily familiar chocolate brown eyes studying Merlin intently. 

   “Why don’t we call it a night?” He suggests, pushing his mostly empty pint glass away. Merlin glances down at his own empty glass guiltily. He had agreed to meet with his best friend to hang out, as he had felt like he had been neglecting his modern friends a bit too much lately. However, the pull towards sleep, and Arthur, and the dread at having to wake up again, is too strong. He can’t focus, can’t sit still. He keeps restlessly running his hands through his hair, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, letting his eyes drift to the large clock on the pub’s wall.

   “No, it’s fine.” He weakly protests. Thomas gives him a knowing, and rather unimpressed look.

   “Merlin,” he says, “you know you can’t lie to me. I can see how out of it you are. Go home, and get some rest, my friend.” He reaches across the table and punctuates his sentence with a firm squeeze to Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin smiles weakly, but his magic stirs in his chest at the thought of heading home and crawling into bed. He can already feel sleep and exhaustion tugging at his mind slightly. 

   “Fine.” Merlin reluctantly huffs. “I’m sorry, really. We can make new plans for another day.” He promises as he gets to his feet. Thomas does the same, smiling at him, worry hinting at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

   “Don’t worry about it, Merlin. Just feel better.” He clasps Merlin on the shoulder again, then steers him toward the door. Once outside, they split off with another goodbye, and Merlin is on his own once again.

   He makes his way to his nearby flat in silence, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. He’s chewing on his lower lip as his mind shifts from one topic to another restlessly. He’s unlocking his door before he’s even fully aware that he’s even made it home. An empty quiet greets him as he pushes open the door. 

   Toeing off his shoes, and shedding his jacket, he leans back against the now locked door. Letting his head fall back with a thunk, he closes his eyes and tries to just breathe. His fingers feel twitchy, pulling mindlessly on his long sleeves. His legs want him to move, but he isn’t sure if he wants to give them what they desire. With one final breath, he pushes away from the wood behind him and makes his way to the kitchen instead of his bedroom.

   He pulls an almost full bottle of white wine out of the fridge, setting it on the counter as he goes off in search of a glass. Once he has one in hand, he grabs the bottle and pulls the stopper out with his teeth. His trembling hands fill his glass, spilling a bit out onto the counter below. Shaking his head at himself, he sets the bottle down and lifts his glass to his lips. As he takes his first sip, he closes his eyes and tries to relax. By the time the glass is done, he feels marginally better. 

   Sleep is still calling at his mind, so he trudges down the hall to the bathroom. The minty toothpaste tastes weird after his drink, and he focuses on the taste as much as he can to avoid letting his mind stray to what he and Arthur will do once he’s asleep. He’d had a bit of a rough day, and was looking forward to venting to his friend about it. If he could. Rinsing his mouth out, he leans against the sink and hangs his head. He had been seeing Arthur every night for the past two and a half weeks. As elated as he was at being about to talk to his friend again, it was hard, and only getting harder. He hated having to say goodbye every single night, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could manage it.

   Pushing off, he turns and leaves the bathroom, making his way to his room. He strips off his clothes, leaving himself in just his briefs as he crawls into bed. The sheets are cold against his skin, and he revels in the feeling for a moment. So many things now felt almost fake when he was awake. He often found his mind drifting between the reality of his world while awake, and the reality of his world while asleep. Every physical sensation, whether it be good or not, was welcome. In his dreams, he never felt anything. He could never touch Arthur, and Arthur could never touch him.

   Sleep pulls him under sooner than he had anticipated. When he opens his eyes, he isn’t back in Camelot at all. There’s no castle, or stone walls. There’s no lush, old forests, or men and women walking around in simple clothes. Instead, he finds himself in a park just down the street from his flat. Men and women jog by, or stroll past holding hands. Children are laughing, and talking, and running every which way. The distant sound of vehicle traffic drifts closer on the slight breeze. Merlin frowns as he takes in his surroundings. Would Arthur be here?

   “You may have written me off as oblivious back in Camelot, but I actually can tell when something is bothering you. Are you going to tell me?” Arthur’s voice suddenly comes from right next to him. Merlin jumps a little, swinging his head around to peer at the blond. Arthur looks unperturbed at the sights around him. He looks around with interest, but not fear. Not confusion. 

   “How are you okay with all this?” Merlin can’t help but ask, waving his arm around him vaguely. Arthur shrugs. 

   “I feel like I’ve seen it all before, somehow. Not through my own eyes, but through yours. It’s familiar, and yet not.” He answers with a shrug, then quickly changes the subject back to what he wants to talk about. “Now, tell me what’s on your mind.” 

   Merlin huffs. “Nothing. It’s just been a very long day.” He replies, not wanting to give in and tell Arthur everything. It was always so easy to fall back into their old routines when they were together like this. When Arthur gives him his full attention, however, looking so damn sincere, Merlin can’t help but let it all spill from him in a flood. He’d had to deal with rotten customers all day, one old woman even going so far as to insult him. Repeatedly. He’d nearly been late for work, spilled his coffee all over his jacket in his haste to get there in time. Not to mention how exhausted he was mentally nowadays. He doesn’t tell Arthur this particular fact, though, because in a way, it’s his fault. It’s these visits while Merlin is asleep that are wreaking havoc on his mind.

   Arthur muses over Merlin’s rant for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry you’ve had such an awful day, Merlin. If I could make it better, I would.”

   Merlin looks down at his feet. “You could make it better.” He says. Swallowing thickly, he lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s hesitant ones. “You could, Arthur. All you have to do is come back. Please. I want to have an actual conversation with you, face to face. I want to be able to tell the people in my life about you, without them thinking I’m crazy. I want to stop lying to people when they ask why I’m so tired, and so off, all the time.”

   The man looks away, making Merlin’s heart clench a little more. “We’ve talked about this, Merlin. I can’t. Not yet.”

   “Why not?” Merlin bursts out. The people around them carry on as if they haven’t heard a thing. The benefits of talking in a dream, Merlin supposes.

   “I’ve already told you that you have to wait. Just a little longer, Merlin. Be patient.” Merlin gets to his feet, burying his hands in his hair as he mulls over Arthur’s words. He’s heard them before, every other time he’s begged Arthur to return to him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. 

   “I can’t.” He finally says softly. His voice sounds hoarse and choked, and he squeezes his eyes closed. “I can’t wait any longer, Arthur. I can’t do this. Seeing you every night, and having to say goodbye every time, I—” He drags off and hangs his head. “I can’t. Please, Arthur, either come back, or leave me alone.”

   There’s a sharp inhale behind him, but he refuses to turn around, refuses to open his eyes. If he looks at Arthur now, his resolve will crumble. He won’t be able to pull away. He won’t be able to stand by his request for Arthur to go. There’s shuffled movement now, footsteps approaching him. His heart launches into his throat as he feels Arthur’s presence behind him.

   “I’m sorry, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice says, soft and filled with pain. Merlin inhales shakily, chest constricting around his lungs, making him feel as if he can’t quite catch a full breath. A stronger wind blows through the park, and Merlin shivers, for the first time feeling the cold in his dreams. When he opens his eyes and turns around, Arthur is gone.

~~~

   After that night, Merlin refuses to sleep. He doesn’t want to slip back into his dreams and see Arthur, waiting for him as he always had been for the past few weeks. Even worse, he didn’t want to fall asleep and not find Arthur at all. So, he pushes his body to stay awake. He drinks cup after cup of coffee, keeps himself moving so he can’t chance falling asleep by accident. He goes through the motions every day, and nothing more. He refuses to meet his friends, he barely responds to texts and phone calls. He’s on his third consecutive day without any rest whatsoever, that he sees Arthur again.

   Merlin is walking home from work numbly, the crowd of people hurrying home around him just starting to thin. As Merlin nears the intersection just before his flat, he sees Arthur standing on the other side of the street. He’s standing tall and regal, chainmail and armour shining in the sun, red cloak billowing out behind him. No one around him seems to notice he’s there at all. Merlin comes to a dead halt in the middle of the sidewalk, a few people cursing at him as they push past. Across the street, Arthur smiles. 

   “Merlin.” He says. It’s quiet, like he had somehow it whispered directly into Merlin’s ear. Merlin blinks. When his eyes reopen after their split second shut, Arthur is gone. Merlin blinks again, hoping he’ll return, but he doesn’t. The street is empty of his king, even as he spins in place, eyes frantically searching the slowly thinning crowds. With no Arthur in sight, Merlin reluctantly makes his way to his flat, heart hammering in his chest.

   As soon as he’s through the door, something pulls at his chest. Something telling him to move. To go. Without thinking, he spins on his heel, and marches right back out the door. His feet carry him down to the carpark. His small car is still there, old and battered and relatively unused. He unlocks the door and slides behind the wheel on autopilot. Starting the engine, he shifts it into gear, then pulls out onto the road. He isn’t even aware that he’s driving to the Lake of Avalon, until he’s leaving the city.

   The Lake of Avalon is much changed from its former glory. It’s smaller, shallower, murkier. There’s more evidence of people visiting than before, well worn footpaths cut in and out through the trees. The falling sun still shines off the water the same though, glinting across the calm surface at the same angle. It still makes Merlin’s stomach heave as much as it did the last time he was here. It still makes his throat clog up and his eyes sting.

   Merlin’s footsteps sound loud in the otherwise quiet, stray branches snapping under every other step. There’s no one else around at this time of day, with the sun sinking below the horizon and painting the sky in pinks and oranges and golds. It’s a beautiful picture, but Merlin doesn’t take it in. He’s never been able to see the beauty of this place since that day, all those hundreds of years ago. 

   The closer he gets, the more he feels like something is different. Something had changed since the last time he came here, screaming for Arthur to return, to be given back to him. There’s a shift in the energy radiating throughout the place, the world humming beneath his feet to a different rhythm than it had previously. Eyes narrowed, he approaches the edge of the lake with caution, senses and magic straining to pick up anything out of the ordinary. When he hears a snap behind him, he whirls around to face the potential threat. What he sees makes his heart sink into shoes.

   “No.” He says hoarsely. “No. I tried so hard to stay awake. No.” 

   Arthur takes a step closer, raising a placating hand. “This isn’t a dream, Merlin.”

   Merlin shakes his head ferociously. “It has to be. You aren’t coming back. You never were. You’ve been haunting me in my dreams for long enough, just go!” He’s telling by the time he’s done speaking the words, he’s practically yelling, demanding that Arthur leave him alone with his words, but begging him to stay with his eyes. The conflicting emotions swirl together in his gut and nearly drop him to his knees.

   The blond takes another few steps closer, droplets of water on his armour reflecting the vast colours in the sky. “Merlin, this is me, I promise. I wouldn’t lie about this.”

   Another shake his head has Merlin turning away. “No. I don’t believe you.” His body is screaming for him to run to his king, to fall into the arms of the man he loves, but his head tells him it’s all a lie. He never gets to touch Arthur. He never gets to feel Arthur’s arms wrapped warmly around his waist, his lips against this ear as he whispers that things are going to be all right.

   “Merlin.” Arthur says firmly, striding closer. Merlin goes to back up, but Arthur snakes his hands out and grips his wrists. “Merlin, this is real. Look. Did I ever touch you in your dreams? Could you ever lay a hand on me in return?” He pulls Merlin’s arms closer, pressing his palms against his armour clad shoulders. Merlin stays still, eyes wide as he stares at his cold fingers, registers the feeling of familiar armour under his hands. He scarcely dares the breathe as he runs his hands down the front of Arthur’s body, sliding over his chest and down to his waist. His eyes track the movement of his hands as they go down, then keep following them as they slide back up. 

   He wants to feel Arthur’s pulse, wishes he could press a hand to his chest and feel a strong and steady heartbeat under his palm. With armour on, however, that isn’t an option. Instead, he continues sliding his hands up until they reach Arthur’s neck, stopping just below his jaw on either side. Merlin exhales heavily as he feels the beat in Arthur’s blood, just below his skin. He blinks, body starting to tremble slightly. Arthur’s hands are still curled around his wrists, no doubt picking up his own racing heartbeat. 

   Flicking his eyes up to meet his king’s, Merlin lets his hands wander farther. They reach up, feeling the curve of Arthur’s jaw, the smooth skin of his cheeks, the jut of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. He goes farther still, brushing fingers gently over his brow, his forehead. He tangles his fingers in Arthur’s hair, feeling the familiar soft slide of the strands between his fingertips. He hasn’t touched Arthur, hasn’t felt him, in so long, that the sudden sensation of such a familiar body under his hands again makes him nearly collapse in a heap.

   “Merlin.” Arthur breathes, and it’s then that Merlin realizes how close he’s let them become. He shifts his eyes down to meet Arthur’s, taking in the shades of blue that he had never quite seen ever since Arthur closed his eyes for the last time. The colour is just as breathtaking as it had been before. Letting go of Merlin’s wrists, Arthur slides his hands down Merlin’s shoulders, settling them low on his back. 

  “Arthur.” Merlin replies, unable to think of anything else to say. Not that he needed anything else. His relationship with Arthur had always been more strongly based on actions and looks, than on anything resembling spoken words of affirmation.

   Arthur’s lips quirk into a small smile. The slight curve catches Merlin’s eyes, and he feels his body subconsciously lean closer. Before he can catch himself, force himself to retreat back to where he always had, where it was safe for him to be, Arthur pulls him closer. Merlin goes willingly, shuddering as Arthur’s lips connect with his. His fingers in Arthur’s golden locks tighten in reaction, holding his king close as he kisses him with a desperation born of hundreds of years of being apart. Arthur doesn’t back down, or pull away. He gives back just as much emotion as Merlin offers him, restless fingers clenching and unclenching on Merlin’s waist.

   When they slowly pull apart, Merlin’s breathing is ragged and heavy. His cheeks are streaked with tears, and his eyes are burning. He removes his hands from Arthur’s hair, instead wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders, and curling into his body. The armour between them digs into him in various places, but he doesn’t care. It reminds him that this is real. This is Arthur, his king, and he’s alive and warm under all his outward protection. Arthur’s strong fingers dig into his back, holding him close, and refusing to let him go any time soon. 

   “It’s been a while.” Arthur murmurs into his hair. Merlin huffs a watery laugh.

   “Yeah, you could say that.” He replies, his mind wandering back to that first time he had seen Arthur in his dreams. 

   “I’m so sorry, Merlin.” Arthur says quietly. Merlin buries his face in Arthur’s neck, exhaling shakily against his skin.

   “No. You’re back. Don’t apologize now. Just promise me that you’ll never leave me again.” He says, voice muffled slightly by Arthur’s body.

   Arthur’s arms tighten around his waist. “For as long as both shall live, I will be by your side.” He whispers back, nose pressed into Merlin’s hair. Merlin feels the pressure of a kiss against the side of his head, and the tightness in his chest loosens. He takes his first full, deep breath in weeks. 

   Pulling away just enough to see his beloved’s face again, Merlin feels his magic settle. Not quite dormant, but close enough. With his king back, he doesn’t need it anymore. Not like he once did. In its place, love and devotion surge up, the likes of which are reflected back to him in Arthur’s eyes. It doesn’t need to be spoken, though, this emotion they’re both feeling. They both already know. Merlin leans closer, kissing his king on the lips again, simply because he can. It’s as easy as breathing, and Merlin greedily inhales his king, his love. 

   A cool wind blows through the trees, drifting over the lake beside them. When Merlin draws back and opens his eyes, Arthur is still there, eyes sparkling and lips tugged into a soft smile. Merlin curls back into his body, craving his touch. He never wants to leave the safety and familiarity of these strong arms ever again. Something tells him that he won’t have to, not really. Arthur is here to stay. For good. He won’t ever have to say goodbye again. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from disneyintrovet on Tumblr: Arthur is about to compete in a tournament and Merlin is preparing him, and kisses him as a good luck thing without even realizing it before shoving him out of the tent because he's just be announced or something? Then because he's so dazed, Arthur loses or gets hurt lol (bonus points if the opponent is, like, Gwaine) and Merlin is like the hell was that performance and Arthur is just like bro.

   Arthur tracks Merlin’s movements as he flits from spot to spot in the small tent pitched next to the arena. He’s sitting in his lavish chair (according to Merlin, anyway) while waiting for this next turn to compete. The council, his knights, even Merlin, had all tried to convince him to sit this tournament out. He was the King now, he no longer needed to prove himself. Arthur had argued that being King meant he absolutely had to keep proving himself, his worth, his ability to protect. His people would soon lose faith in a King they no longer trusted. Merlin especially had been unhappy with his decision, spouting off all the times something had gone wrong while Arthur was competing, which seemed to be every single one since he came of age shortly after Merlin’s arrival in Camelot. Arthur, of course, had ignored his ramblings, much to Merlin’s annoyance.

   “Merlin.” He now says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You do know that I need to compete again today, right?”

   Merlin shoots him a dirty look. “Yes, Sire, I am well aware. I’m making sure your armour is still okay after that hit you took in the last match.” The King would always marvel at his servant’s ability to make his title sound like an insult. 

   “I’m sure it’s fine, Merlin. It probably won’t make much of a difference anyway.” He replies, brushing off his next match already. He was the best swordsmen in all of Albion, after all. What was a lucky blow to his pauldron, anyway? Merlin is hunched over the shoulder piece, trying to polish out the scuffs, and work out the dents as best he can on such short notice.

   Blue eyes raise to his in a glare. “Don’t write off the next match already, you pompous prat.” Merlin replies. He always seems to get mouthier the more stressed he gets. 

   Arthur laughs, looking away from his servant’s intense gaze. “Please, Merlin, even you have to have more faith than that in me. How many times have you ever seen me lose?”

   “You know as well as I do that Gwaine is a good fighter. He’s smart, and quick on his feet. You need to be paying attention.” Merlin retorts, looking back down to what his hands are doing. Arthur cocks his head slightly to the right, watching as Merlin’s eyes suddenly flare gold in annoyance, and a particularly stubborn dent works itself back outwards. He has to take a minute to sort his thoughts out before he can reply. Merlin doing magic always had that affect on him.

   With a dramatically scornful scoff, Arthur says, “It’s Gwaine, Merlin. I can handle him, trust me.”

   Merlin glares at him again as he gets to his feet. He mutters under his breath, too quiet for Arthur to properly catch the words. He assumes that it’s something unsavoury about his person, definitely an insult of some kind, and maybe even a jab at his intelligence. He rolls his eyes, holding back a grin as Merlin approaches him. Getting to his feet, he holds out his arms and allows Merlin to fit his armour back in place over his chainmail. Merlin works around him, deft fingers doing up straps and buckles, making sure everything is in place, but not too tight. As he steps back, Arthur catches sight of his face, and the legitimately worried expressions painted across his features.

   “Merlin.” He says, reaching out to grip his wrist firmly with his left hand. “You have no need to worry. As you said, it’s Gwaine. He won’t hurt me, I’m in no danger.”

   Merlin worries his lower lip and looks away. “It’s not him I’m worried about. Not really.” Arthur nods slowly. He understands what his friend is getting at. If he defeats Gwaine, then he’ll face whoever wins the other semi-final match, both contenders being unknown to them. They had never seen them fight until yesterday, had never spoken to them until they showed up in the city for the tournament. If anyone was going to harm him during a match, whether it was accidental or intentional, it would be someone unfamiliar.

   “One step at a time, Merlin. I’ll be fine.” He says softly, surprising himself at how almost tender he sounds. Merlin looks back at him, his blue eyes meeting the King’s and holding. He had always met Arthur’s gaze when other servants wouldn’t. He had never quite learned his proper place under his master, and Arthur was growing more and more happy that he hadn’t. Every passing day, his feelings for his servant changed. They were growing more into dangerous territory, and if Merlin acted as a proper servant did, he would feel much more inclined to be ashamed of his developing affections for the man.

   “I know.” Merlin replies, equally as soft. “I just worry.” Arthur’s heart gives a betraying little flutter in his chest. Now was certainly not the time to be dwelling on such frivolous things as feelings. Not when he had to be concentrating on a looming sword fight.

   The sound of approaching footsteps brings them both out of whatever moment they were getting sucked in to. Lancelot ducks his head into the tent, smiling and nodding at Merlin before looking at his king. He bobs his head in a respectful nod.

   “Sire, you are almost needed in the arena.” He says. Arthur nods back.

   “Thank you, Sir Lancelot. We’ll be right there.” The knight nods back and disappears. Arthur turns back to Merlin. “Is everything in readiness, Merlin?” He asks.

   Merlin again chews on his lip as he looks Arthur over. The action was becoming quite the distracting habit lately, always drawing Arthur’s attention down to Merlin’s pretty mouth. It’s not like he needed the extra help to get Arthur’s thoughts to spiral out of control. 

   “Yeah, I think so.” Merlin says with a nod. There’s still a concerned gleam in his eyes, and Arthur steps closer, intent on wiping the look right out of existence.

   “Merlin—” He doesn’t get to finish his thought. The bells out in the arena go off, signalling that the match is about to start. He had to be there, now. Merlin steps closer, double checks all the buckles of Arthur’s armour, making sure everything is okay. When he deems it satisfactory, he nods his head, leaving to grab his helmet and sword from the table set up inside the tent. He pushes them into Arthur’s arms making sure he has a strong grip on them before letting go. Then, he does the unthinkable. He leans closer, and brushes a soft, chaste kiss to Arthur’s mouth. The King’s mind reels as he registers the feel of Merlin’s lips pressed to his, the warmth of his breath against his cheek. Then he’s gone.

   “Good luck, Arthur. I’ll be waiting for you.” He says, as if he hadn’t just tipped Arthur’s entire world upside down. Arthur nods dumbly, and Merlin frowns. He doesn’t say anything, though, just grips his arm and tugs himself from the tent. Arthur stumbles along behind him. When they reach the arena, Merlin gives him another strange look, then grabs his helmet from his arms and shoves it over his head. The sword hilt gets pushed into his palm, and then strong hands on his back are shoving him into the arena. 

   The crowds lining the perimeter of the barrier break out into wild, raucous cheers. Everyone always loved watching Arthur compete. The King valued swordsmanship as an art form, and he was quite proficient with his brush and paint of choice. Today, however, is different. He can feel it even as he takes slightly unsteady steps towards Gwaine, already ready and waiting for him. His head is still spinning, his mind firmly stuck back in that blasted tent, Merlin’s lips pressed gently to his. Did Merlin even realize he had kissed him? Did it mean anything? Did Merlin want to do it again? Part of him is screaming at him to turn around and walk back to the man, pull him into his arms, and snog him senseless. He forces his feet to continue resolutely approaching his knight.

   Gwaine nods at him as he settles into position. Glancing quickly over at the section reserved for members of the royal household, he sees Morgana looking at him shrewdly. He fidgets slightly under her intense gaze. His half sister looking like that never ended well for him. He settles his gaze back on his opponent as Morgana stands, readying to start the match. At her words, the fight begins, but Arthur still feels anything but ready. 

   Gwaine attacks fast, darting in and swiping his sword out. Arthur just barely manages to parry the blow, staggering back a step as Gwaine swings again, connecting with his shield hard. He forces his sword arm up, meeting blades with his knight, but it’s a weak swing and it’s easily blocked. He continues to try to fight normally, tries to get into the rhythm, exploit the weaknesses that he knows Gwaine has, but he can’t seem to get his limbs to work right. He trips over his feet, makes weak attempts at an offence that are easily dodged, and let’s Gwaine land hits that he would otherwise parry in a heartbeat. In short, he’s losing.

   The knowledge, stirs something in the back of his mind, and he manages to get a few good blows in, but his valiant attempt at redeeming himself falls flat when he gets too close and Gwaine slams his shield into the King’s, sending the blond tumbling backwards. He lands heavily on his back, helmet falling from his head, and has to let go of his shield and roll quickly out of the way as Gwaine steps down on his previous protection and swings his sword. Scrambling to his feet, he reorients himself, giving himself a good shake to try and clear the fog blurring his mind. It doesn’t help much, and when Gwaine swings hard again, he only barely blocks it. 

   They manage another minute or so, Gwaine pushing the King back with every well aimed swipe of his blade. Arthur continues to stagger over his own feet, completely forgetting the hours and hours of work he had put into his footwork ever since he was a young boy. Gwaine seems to notice, had probably noticed long before now already, and uses it to his advantage. He goes in for a feint, first stepping one way, then lunging the other. He gets in behind Arthur, wrapping his free arm (he had dropped his shield when Arthur had, just to be fair) around his neck, and tapping the flat edge of his sword against Arthur’s chest.

   “I win, Princess.” He crows smugly in Arthur’s ear. The King huffs, shoving him away ferociously. Morgana is smirking at him from her place, and the crowd is utterly silent. He doesn’t dare look at Merlin. Gwaine tugs his helmet off, holding it up in victory. Only then does the crowd start to cheer, if not a little confusedly. They had never seen Arthur beaten so badly and easily. Ever.

   Without waiting for anything else, Arthur turns on his heel and marches over to where his shield and helmet are lying in the dirt. He swipes them up into his hand, and leaves the arena with as much dignity as he can muster. As expected, Merlin is waiting for him just outside the entrance, mouth open incredulously.

   As Arthur passes, Merlin splutters, “What was that?” He gestures back at Gwaine, who is still smiling triumphantly, just in case Arthur didn’t know what he was talking about. The King ignores him, continuing on his way to his tent to lick the wounds inflicted to his pride. He hears Merlin’s footsteps behind him, following him back. For some reason, that simple fact has Arthur’s blood buzzing in his veins.

   Arthur strides into the relative privacy of his tent, dropping his sword, helmet, and shield down onto the table with a clang. Merlin steps in moments after him, intense eyes burning holes into his back. The King closes his eyes and takes a fortifying breath before turning around.

   “Well?” Merlin demands, already stepping closer to look him over needlessly. He hadn’t gotten hurt at all. Not physically, anyway. Arthur scowls at his question. When he doesn’t answer, Merlin raises expectant eyebrows at him.

   “Oh don’t stand there and give me that, Merlin, like that wasn’t all completely your fault.” Arthur snaps harshly. Merlin’s eyes widen almost comically, and then he glares at him, eyes narrowed almost dangerously.

   “I fail to see how you forgetting how to even swing a sword is my fault. I could’ve done a better job out there, Arthur! I thought the whole point behind you absolutely needing to compete was to put your peoples’ minds at ease. What part of that performance put anyone at ease? Except maybe Gwaine. Morgana looked pretty happy with it, too.” Merlin retorts heatedly. Arthur clenches his teeth. The idiot went and horribly distracted him moments before he had to compete, and he didn’t even realize it! He had no idea what he had done to shake the King’s concentration so badly.

  Making a split second, no doubt foolish, decision, Arthur narrows his eyes and says, “Well, maybe this will spark your memory.” He snakes a hand out, gripping a handful of Merlin’s tunic, and pulls him forward harshly. Merlin stumbles closer, mouth open to berate him for manhandling him, but Arthur seals his lips over his before he ever has the chance to utter a word. Merlin’s hands land on his shoulders, squeezing the muscles in surprise. As quickly as it began, Arthur backs off, panting heavily and still glaring.

   “There. Does that ring any bells?” He demands, taking two large steps back. Merlin is staring at him slightly open mouthed, eyes a little dazed. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at Arthur as if the King had two heads, and his silence starts to worry Arthur. What had he just done? Had he gone too far? Had Merlin perhaps not meant to kiss him earlier? Had it all just been one huge mistake? Had he just ruined the first true friendship he had ever had?

   Merlin takes a step toward him, then another. Once he’s close enough, he rests his hands on Arthur’s shoulders again, and pushes him back. The King stumbles backwards in confusion, eyes fixed on Merlin’s intent and serious face. What was he doing? He continues to push Arthur back until the backs of Arthur’s knees hit his chair, and he very ungracefully sits down. Before he can question anything, Merlin climbs into his lap, straddling his thighs as he stares down at Arthur with heated eyes. Arthur stares up at him blankly, his turn to look and feel a little dazed now.

   Fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head, pulling his head back as a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips claim his. He whines slightly in the back of his throat, hands reaching to rest low on Merlin’s hips. Merlin kisses him with a purpose, demanding and forceful. He licks at Arthur’s bottom lip, nipping lightly with his teeth when Arthur doesn’t immediately comply with his wishes and grant him entrance. Arthur groans at the feeling, Merlin slipping his tongue between his lips, taking what he wants when Arthur proves to still be too stunned to keep up with what was happening. The sensation of Merlin’s hot tongue curling with his own has Arthur’s fingers digging into Merlin’s hips. Merlin rumbles deep in his chest, the sound not unlike what Arthur would imagine a dragon would sound like, and kisses him with even more fervour.

   In their distracted state, they don’t hear the approaching footsteps, but they do hear Leon’s voice as he says, “Sire?”

   Merlin pulls back with a yelp, scrambling backwards off the King’s lap. His feet tangle with Arthur’s as he tries to rush away, and he ends up toppling over backwards, landing hard on the ground. Arthur stares after him for a moment, marvelling at just how quickly the man’s domineering behaviour could give way to his usual clumsy, endearing ways. His eyes don’t stay on Merlin long, quickly flicking away from the man’s quickly reddening features to look at Leon. The Knight’s eyes are shining with mirth, and possibly relief, even as his face stays impassive.

   “Yes, Sir Leon?” Arthur asks, as if the man hadn’t just caught him and his servant sharing the best snog of his life.

   “Your presence has been requested before the final match starts. It is tradition for the hosting king to oversee the deciding match of the champion of the tournament.” Leon replies, a small smile slipping past his mask, lips quirking up on one side.

   Arthur nods, getting to his feet swiftly, if not a little shakily. “Of course. Let them know I will be there shortly.”

   Leon nods, then ducks out of the tent opening. Arthur closes his eyes and takes a moment to breathe. They were both incredibly lucky that Gwaine was competing in the final match, and that it had been Leon who had come to fetch him. Otherwise, the entire kingdom would know about the event that just occurred, and been witnessed, by sundown tomorrow.

   Opening his eyes, Arthur looks down at Merlin, still sprawled on the ground, and very much red in the face. Even the tips of his ears are a dark shade, and the sight is so endearing that Arthur cracks a fond smile. Reaching out a hand, he waits for Merlin to take his offer. When Merlin’s warm hand curls around his, he hauls the man to his feet. Merlin is a little wide eyed once they are once again face to face. 

   “Unfortunately, duty calls.” Arthur says, voice suddenly sounding oddly loud in the small space. Merlin nods, kiss swollen lower lip getting snugged between his teeth again. It’s terribly distracting, and Arthur sways closer to press a quick kiss to Merlin’s mouth. 

   “You should probably go.” Merlin mumbles as they separate again. Arthur nods, lifting a hand to smooth over Merlin’s cheek. The skin under his palm is warm and soft, and it makes Arthur’s chest flutter madly that Merlin is even allowing him to touch him so intimately. This was a line they had never really dared to cross before, but it was making excitement well up in his stomach. Sliding his hand down Merlin’s cheek, he runs his fingers under his chin, and lightly taps him there, making Merlin lift his head a little higher.

   “Chin up, Merlin.” He says with a grin. “I believe we are in need of a much longer, and more proper, conversation later. If you are agreeable to such things.” He ignores the sliver of worry lacing his tone, instead choosing to focus on the dazzling smile breaking out across Merlin’s lips. It lights up his whole face, all white teeth and dimples and creased eyes.

   “I would be very much agreeable.” He replies, something lurking in his voice that makes Arthur’s toes curl in his boots. He leans closer, intent on kissing him again, but Merlin’s flat hand on his chest stops him. “You need to go, Arthur, before Morgana herself marches down here and kills you for making everyone wait for your entitled arse.” 

   Arthur pulls back reluctantly, nodding. “That’s very sensible of you, Merlin.” He says, already forcing himself to take a step back. As he goes, he lets his hand fall to Merlin’s shoulder, fingers trailing down his arm until they curl around Merlin’s fingers, palms pressing warmly together. The look in Merlin’s eyes softens, and he squeezes Arthur’s hand firmly. Arthur nods before letting go and leaving the tent. As he makes his way to the arena, and to a most likely irate Morgana, he hears Merlin’s faithful footsteps behind him. He smiles to himself as he silently vows that one day, those footsteps will be proudly beside him instead, for all the kingdoms of Albion to see.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from Ave107 on AO3: Can you do one where their relationship is established but a secret, and Merlin (being the prick he is) tries to tease/get Arthur to snap in public. (I hope this does the trick!!)

1)

   Arthur liked to think sometimes that he was James Bond, or Jason Bourne. After all, he was living two lives at once. In truth, though, he simply saw himself as a coward, nothing more. He had been dating Merlin for just over six months, but no one knew. None of his friends were even aware that he liked men. They were all still under the illusion that he was decidedly straight, and exclusively went on dates with women, snogged women, liked women. He wanted to tell them, he really did, and it wasn’t like he was the only one in the group who wasn’t straight. Gwaine was pan, Merlin was gay, his own half sister was bisexual. For some reason, he felt different than them in his head. He felt that he would be the exception to their inclusive, non-judgemental ways. And that irrational thought terrified him.

   “Arthur, you ready to go?” Merlin’s voice says, the man himself poking his head into their room. They had already been flatmates when they got together, and best friends for even longer. Moving into one room together hadn’t been a conscious decision on their part, it had just gradually kind of happened, one article of clothing at a time.

   “Yeah.” Arthur replies, saving the document he’s working on, and shutting his laptop. Merlin smiles at him as he gets to his feet and approaches him, pulling him into a soft kiss once he’s close enough. Arthur hums contentedly against his mouth before pulling away. “Let’s go.”

   Merlin curls his fingers around Arthur’s as they make their way through their flat, but once they reach the door, he lets go, taking one large step away from him. Arthur heart pangs in his chest, his usual guilt rising up into his throat at the knowledge that he was forcing Merlin back into the closet, and all for him. At least partially. Merlin may still be out and proud, but he was hiding his relationship, all for Arthur’s benefit. He had been very understanding when they discussed it, the same night Arthur had finally tangled his fingers in Merlin’s hair and kissed him to within an inch of his life. Growing up, Arthur’s father had made his views on homosexuality very clear, and those views had stuck with Arthur even after he had left home to go to university across the country, Morgana following shortly after when she graduated. Still, Arthur was acutely aware that Merlin’s understanding and patience would only last for so long.

   They make their way down to the carpark, climbing into Arthur’s overly flashy vehicle. It had a larger boot, and they had put off grocery shopping long enough that they would undoubtedly need to make use of it. As Merlin buckles beside him, Arthur starts the engine, the radio coming on automatically. Merlin reaches out to twist the dial, choosing another station as Arthur pulls out of the lot and heads towards their favourite grocery store. Merlin had wanted to frequent a different one when they first moved in together as friends, complaining that this one was too expensive. Arthur had rolled his eyes and said money wasn’t an issue, and that he preferred quality over price.

   Once the car is parked at the grocery store, they both get out. Merlin gravitates a little closer to Arthur’s side, but remains far enough away that if they run into anyone they know, they won’t get any difficult questions. Even when they were merely best friends, they had always been invading each other’s space, standing too close, lingering touches too long. Walking side by side in the grocery store won’t throw anyone they know off. Arthur’s hand itches to reach out and take Merlin’s hand in his. He craves physical contact with his boyfriend, even when he won’t allow himself to have it. He roughly shoves his hands in the pockets of his peacoat to prevent any wayward movement.

   Stepping into the store, Merlin leaves his side briefly to grab a cart, returning a moment later. Arthur pulls the list they had made out of his jeans pocket, smoothing out some of the creases from folding it, and looking it over. Merlin steps closer, peering over his shoulder to read what had been written down. He always does this. They make the list, Merlin forgets something, and then he has to reread the list in the store before he remembers what he forgot to add. 

   “Oh, you two are just the cutest couple.” A lady’s voice says from behind them. Arthur jolts slightly, spinning to face the speaker. It’s an older woman, possibly in her late sixties. She’s grinning at them fondly, like seeing two men in their mid-twenties huddled together over a shopping list is the best thing she could’ve witnessed all day. Merlin grins beside him, even as Arthur’s heart rate explodes in his chest.

   “Oh,” Arthur splutters nervously, gesturing between him and Merlin, “we’re not together. Just best mates.”

   The woman’s face falters for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

   “It’s fine.” Merlin says, a cheeky edge to his voice. “I keep telling him that we’re the cutest best friends in England, but he keeps denying it. Glad to get some outside opinions.” He steps closer, sliding his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “Told you we were adorable.” He croons in Arthur’s ear. Arthur feels his cheeks go decidedly red. The woman just looks confused.

   “Right. Well, sorry again. Have a good day, you two.” She gives them one last weird look, then continues on her way. Arthur shrugs Merlin’s arm off his shoulders, and shoots him a half-hearted glare. He gets a smug grin back.

   “You hear that? We’re adorable, Arthur. Nothing to worry about.” He says matter-of-factly, as if whether or not they made a good looking couple was Arthur’s problem. The blond scowls. 

   “Let’s just finish here and go home, Merlin.” He mutters, already turning back to face the cart. With a huff, he pushes it forward, intent on just getting their groceries and making a run for it. His eyes wander the aisles, double checking that no one they knew had witnessed their previous interaction. He isn’t sure if he feels better or worse that not even any strangers seemed to have seen it.

2)

   After a long week for everyone, the entire group decides to meet at Lance’s flat for a small get together Friday night. Booze flows fast through the kitchen, and before long, Arthur is feeling decidedly tipsy. Merlin sits beside him, snickering into his half full glass as Gwaine regales the group with an overly dramatic story from earlier that week. Arthur merely rolls his eyes, not believing half of what the man says. 

   “I know!” Morgana says as Gwaine finishes with raucous laughter. “Let’s play a game!”

   “A game?” Arthur drawls, unimpressed. “What are we, twelve?” This earns him a ferocious glare from his sister.

   “A game sounds like fun.” Gwen pipes up. Morgana smiles openly at her friend, and Gwen chuckles as Arthur groans. He was always having his friends team up against him.

   “How about truth or dare?” Leon suggests, making Arthur roll his eyes again. Now they really were acting twelve. He hadn’t played truth or dare since he was in primary school.

   “Truth or dare sounds fun.” Merlin adds in, making Arthur shoot him a betrayed look. Even his own boyfriend was choosing the opposite side. Merlin merely grins back. Morgana smiles triumphantly as everyone around them agrees enthusiastically. Arthur grumbles under his breath, and tries to sink into the sofa cushion behind him. He hates this game. Always had. He’d been the unfortunate victim of too many horrible dares, and far too many overly personal truths to ever enjoy the prospect of the game again. 

   As his friends eagerly start, he lets his head fall back, eyes slipping closed. Maybe if he pretended that he was asleep, or better yet, not even there, they’d forget to include him entirely. He has no such luck, however, and gets pulled in against his will.

   “Arthur, truth or dare?” Gwaine asks, an evil glint in his eyes.

   Arthur bites his lip uncertainly. “Dare.” 

   Gwaine narrows his eyes before getting to his feet, holding up a finger to tell everyone to just wait a moment. Arthur watches with growing trepidation as he disappears into the small kitchen. They all hear the sounds of bottles being opened, and glass clinking against glass. When Gwaine returns, he’s holding a nearly full glass of liquid.

   “I dare you to drink this.” He says, handing it over. Arthur unwillingly takes it, staring at it with an eyebrow raised, and lips slightly curled in disgust.

   “What is it?” He asks. 

   Gwaine grins savagely. “A little bit of everything.” Arthur groans. “Come on, Princess. Unless you’re going to chicken out.”

   Arthur’s glare hardens, and he stubbornly raises the glass to his lips. He won’t let Gwaine hold this over his head. He’s no chicken. Well, not entirely, anyway. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath in, then tips his head back and starts to swallow as the mystery drink fills his mouth. He can feel the burn of it down his throat, the awful taste already starting to linger on his tongue. He nearly gags at the end, but manages to get it all down successfully. Leaning forward, he coughs harshly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

   “That was foul, Gwaine. Thank you.” He chokes out. Gwaine guffaws and everyone else applauds. Arthur glances at Merlin beside him, his chest flip-flopping as he catches sight of the man’s eyes fixed firmly on his wet lips. He subconsciously flits his tongue out, licking over his lower lip. Merlin’s eyes track the movement, eyes darkening slightly, before ripping his gaze away. The heat from his stare lingers in Arthur’s chest.

   After he slams the glass down on the large coffee table, the game continues one. Arthur lets himself get lulled into a false sense of security as no one calls on him again. He’s just starting to think he’ll make it out free and clear when Merlin nudges him.

   “Hey, Prat, truth or dare?” He asks. Arthur startles slightly, not having expected the question to come from his secret boyfriend.

   “Erm, truth?” He answers hesitantly. Merlin nods slowly, tucking his lower lip between his teeth as he pretends to think.

   “I got it.” He says triumphantly. “Who, out of everyone here, would you most enjoy having a good snog with?”

   Arthur feels the blood leave his face at Merlin’s question. His eyes are glinting slightly, everyone else looking at him expectantly. What on earth was he playing at? He works his jaw, trying to think of a way out of answering at all, but can’t come up with anything. If he ran off to the bathroom, he’d just have to answer when he came back. If he flat out refused to answer, they would know something was up. Unless, he made up an good excuse for not answering. An idea forms in his head. Not a great one, but it was a way out.

   “I’m not answering that, Merlin.” He drawls lazily, pretending like his heart wasn’t threatening to beat right out of his chest. “After all, Morgana is my sister, so that’s just wrong, and I don’t want to have to tell one of my best mates that I’d have to choose his girlfriend to snog.” He gestures at where Lance and Gwen are cuddled together in the over large armchair in the corner. Everyone laughs, Lance playfully wrapping a protective arm around Gwen’s shoulders. Only Arthur notices the brief flash of hurt in Merlin’s eyes. He suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

   The game goes on, but shortly after Arthur’s answer, Merlin excuses himself to get another drink. Arthur follows after him once he has waited a long enough amount of time for his departure to not seem suspicious. He finds Merlin in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as he takes long gulps from an already half full bottle of beer.

  “Merlin.” He says, making the man look up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Merlin shrugs.

   “S’all right. Not like I didn’t already know what your answer would be.” He looks so damn miserable that Arthur just wants to pull him into his arms and never let go. He stays where he is.

   “Still,” he says, “I clearly hurt you, and I’m sorry.” When Merlin just offers up a wan smile, Arthur chances stepping closer, right into Merlin’s space. “I promise to make it up to you when we get home, show you just how much you are my first choice, and only choice, for a good snog.” He whispers secretively. Merlin’s eyes darken slightly.

   “You’re lucky I like you so much, Arthur Pendragon.” Merlin replies. Arthur feels a stone settle in his stomach. 

   “You’re right, I am incredibly lucky.” He agrees. Merlin’s expression softens, and he glances around before quickly swaying closer and kissing Arthur lightly on the lips. 

   “I’ll meet you back out there.” He says, sliding out from between the counter and Arthur’s body. Arthur miserably watches Merlin leave the kitchen. He turns away after Merlin is gone from view, opening the fridge to grab another beer. He opens it, and chugs the entire thing, stomach coiling tightly in agitation. How much longer could he do this to his boyfriend?

3)

   “Arthur.” Merlin groans. The blond can feel the rumble of his name in Merlin’s throat where his lips are pressed to his skin. “We’re going to be late.” Arthur hums noncommittally, making Merlin wriggle slightly.

   Reluctantly pulling away, Arthur says, “Why can’t we just not go? I’d much rather stay here with you.”

   Merlin smiles at him. “As much as I’d love to do that, we have to go. We made these plans with our friends over a week ago. We can’t back out now.” 

   Arthur whines slightly. “Why not?”

   “Because I’m here to keep you from being a complete prat.” Merlin replies with a chuckle, settling warm hands on Arthur’s shoulders and guiding him back a step. “Now let’s go.”

   Arthur grumbles under his breath, but does as he’s told. Pulling his shoes on, he thinks over their plans for the night. They were all going out for dinner as a group, and then hitting up the cinema to see if anything good was playing. It had been Percy’s idea, his reasoning being that they had all been so busy as of late, that they barely saw each other. Making plans to go out as a group, to take a break from their rigorous school schedules, would be a nice respite from the hectic weeks behind them, and the ones looming ahead. Arthur hadn’t thought twice about agreeing, but now all he wanted to do at the current moment was ravage his boyfriend.

   As always, as soon as they leave the seclusion of their flat, Merlin takes a step away. It may not be large in physical distance, but every time it happened, Arthur felt like the metaphorical distance between them got greater. He was torn between the fear of coming out to his friends, and having his father find out, and losing Merlin entirely. There was no way they could go back to being just friends after what they had shared these past six months.

   The walk to the restaurant they had all agreed to is a short and uneventful one. As soon as they push open the doors, greeting their assembled group waiting for them before being seated, Arthur feels faint. Standing there with Morgana is an unknown woman. She’s admittedly beautiful, but Arthur had a very sinking feeling about why she’s here.

   “Ah, Arthur.” Morgana says with a smile. “This is Mithian.” 

   The woman in question reaches out a hand to shake his. Arthur does so numbly. “Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Mithian greets warmly.

   “Really?” Arthur replies, not entirely sure what to do or say. He senses Merlin shift beside him. Arthur flicks his gaze over to his sister. She’s still smiling.

   “I thought I’d bring her along to meet you, dear brother. I know you haven’t been on any dates for quite some time, so I thought I’d help you out. Mith, here, is just your type.” Morgana explains, sounding so utterly proud of herself that Arthur wants to smack her. He was doing just fine in the dating department, had been ever since he and Merlin had confessed their feelings and tumbled into bed together. Not that any of his friends knew that, of course. He opens his mouth to tell his sister off, but surprisingly, Merlin cuts him off.

   “Oh, Arthur isn’t lacking in a love life at all. He goes on dates all the time.” Merlin says. Morgana’s eyes spark with interest.

   “Really?” She asks, gaze flicking over to assess her brother.

   “Oh, yeah. Definitely not lacking at all. You should hear the sounds he makes at night, almost every night. Seriously, worst flatmate ever.” Arthur stares at Merlin incredulously as he listens to his boyfriend vaguely describe their sex life. He knows his ears are reddening, and he seriously wants to just shut Merlin up, but he doesn’t know how without spilling the beans. He winces slightly as he accidentally catches Mithian’s eyes. To his surprise, however, she doesn’t look hurt. Instead, she’s looking between Arthur and Merlin calculatedly. The knowing look on her face makes him uneasy.

   “Well, Arthur, I didn’t know you were doing so well. Good thing Mithian enjoys a man with experience. You two will be a good fit.” She says with a rather lewd wink. Arthur opens his mouth to protest again, but again, Merlin cuts him off.

   “I’m sure they will be, won’t you, Arthur?” He cocks his head slightly as he studies Arthur, the blond trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. All he wants to do at that moment is turn and run. He doesn’t get the chance, though, because an employee of the restaurant chooses that exact moment to appear. They all get shepherded off to a large table in the back, and Morgana makes sure to position Arthur between Merlin and Mithian. Arthur wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

   What ensues is one of the most uncomfortable dinners of Arthur’s life. With his sister’s intense glares, Arthur is forced to make small talk with Mithian, pretending to be politely interested, all the while with his boyfriend sitting right next to him. Merlin acts oblivious, talking with Gwaine and Lance, and joking with Gwen. Arthur is acutely aware of his presence, however. The brush of his arm against his whenever Merlin moves a certain way. The way Merlin’s foot every now and then reaches out to nudge at his ankle. Arthur has never felt so tightly wound up in all his life.

   Things don’t really improve when they get to the cinema. As they settle down to watch the latest action thriller, Arthur once again stuck between Merlin and Mithian, the woman leans closer. At first Arthur thinks she’s going in for a quick kiss, but then his heart stops as she whispers in his ear.

   “It’s okay, Arthur. I know you’re not interested, and I’m not offended. You and Merlin are quite cute together, even if your friends can’t see it.” Her voice is low enough, thankfully, that only Arthur hears her.

   “What?” He asks, startled. Mithian just smiles at him.

   “Call it an outsider’s unfiltered eyes. You need to tell them soon, though. If not for them or you, then for Merlin.” She says, then sits back in her seat, eyes going back to the screen. Arthur stares at her for a moment before turning back forward as well. Movement from his other side catches the corner of his vision, and he glances over at Merlin. He’s giving Arthur an intense look, maybe a touch worried. Arthur just gives him a strained smile, and looks away. He spends the entire movie mulling over Mithian’s words. By the time the credits roll, he has no idea what the movie was about, and feels like he might puke at any moment.

4)

    A week later finds Arthur and Merlin out at their favourite pub with Gwaine, Lance, and Leon. As usual, Gwaine is entertaining them with outrageous tales about his various exploits, some of which can certainly not be true. He mostly tunes out the conversation as he nurses his pint. He hasn’t stopped thinking about what Mithian had said in that movie theatre, and it still makes him feel vaguely ill. 

   He doesn’t snap back into the conversation until Gwaine says, “Just for curiosity’s sake, which one of us do you think is the better lay?”

   Arthur chokes on his drink, eyes watering as he looks up at his friend. If he even wanted to call him that right now. “What?”

   Gwaine grins. “You heard me, Princess. Come on fellas. Me, Lance, Leon, Merlin, or Arthur. Who’s the best between the sheets?”

   Arthur’s mouth falls open incredulously, even as the others laugh. Why was he friends with this man again? He continues to just stare dumbly around the table, even as the other begin to debate it playfully.

   “Well, it wouldn’t be Lance.” Merlin says with a shake of his head. “He’s only ever been with one person. No varied experience at all.”

   Lance just shrugs mildly. “When you meet the love of your life early, that tends to happen.” He replies, smiling fondly as he, no doubt, thinks about Gwen. Arthur feels a pang of longing in his stomach. He wishes he could talk so openly about his relationship. 

   Gwaine hums. “Not Leon either, I reckon. He’s too proper.” He nudges Leon in the ribs gently with his elbow. Leon grins as he shoves Gwaine away.

   “Just because I don’t like to experiment heavily in bed like you, Gwaine, does not make me rubbish.” He retorts, no heat or malice in his tone. Gwaine just laughs.

   “Never said you were rubbish, just that you weren’t the best.” The man replies, making Leon simply shake his head. Seriously, why were they friends this man?

   Merlin looks at Arthur thoughtfully, making the blond squirm. When he opens his mouth, his words make Arthur freeze. “I’d say it’s Arthur.”

   Arthur stares at Merlin, as Gwaine shifts his gaze to assess him. His eyes flick over his face, then down to his shoulders, and over his chest, down to where the table covers the rest of his body. He looks calculating, like he picturing what Arthur would be like in bed, and the thought makes Arthur squirm. He never wanted to envision himself and Gwaine together. Dear lord, no.

   “Why do you say that, Merls?” He asks, finally looking away from Arthur. Merlin shrugs mildly.

   “Well, look at him. I know when to appreciate good looks. He’s fit, he has good stamina from playing footie. I mean, he looks like he’d be the whole package.” Merlin says thoughtfully, like he doesn’t actually know what his boyfriend is like in the bedroom. Arthur flushes brilliantly red. 

   “If we’re using that logic, I’d be just as good.” Gwaine says, making Arthur finally look up from where he’s clutching his pint glass so hard that his knuckles are turning white. Merlin hums.

   “Maybe. Maybe not.” Merlin shrugs. “I guess I’ll just have to find out, then, eh?” He jokes. Arthur recognizes the joking tone, but his hackles still rise at the thought of Merlin with anyone but him. He wants to claim his territory, tangle his fingers in Merlin’s hair and show everyone at this table just how off limits his boyfriend is. He doesn’t though, just clenches his fingers tighter. He’s so busy glaring down at his nearly empty drink, that he misses Lance’s and Leon’s appraising looks. All he hears is Gwaine jokingly telling his Merlin that if he ever fancied a go, Gwaine would promise no strings attached, and no damage to their friendship. 

5)

   Lance and Gwen are sitting on the sofa in Arthur and Merlin’s flat, sipping glasses of wine after eating dinner. Merlin had cooked, and as usual, it had been mouth-wateringly good. Arthur is sitting in his favourite chair by the window, while Merlin is curled up in the overly plush armchair across from him. He’s conversing happily with the couple, going over details on how school was going, if he was ready for their upcoming exams. Arthur listens idly, happy to just sip his drink, and let his boyfriend talk with his friends.

   “Arthur.” Gwen pipes up, pulling the blond’s attention back to the conversation. He hums in reply, looking at her expectantly. “Have you seen Mithian again? You two seemed to be hitting it off quite well.”

   Arthur tries not to choke. “Oh, no I haven’t. She’s a nice girl, I just don’t know that she’s really my type.” He says, hoping that’ll be the end of the conversation. Unfortunately, fate isn’t being kind to him, because Gwen continues.

   “Oh, what is your type, then? Maybe if we know, we can find someone more suitable for you.” She sounds so sincere, like the just genuinely wants to help him, and Arthur doesn’t know that to do. He swallows thickly several times, debating his options. Did he lie? Or did he finally tell the truth? He could trust Lance and Gwen, could he not?

   Merlin once again answers for him, opening his mouth to say, “He likes them tall. Dark hair, blue eyes. Sweet, but with a little spunk. Life is boring without a little fire. Am I right, Arthur?”

   Arthur swivels his head to look at him. He tries to reply, he really does, he just doesn’t know how. Merlin had literally just sat there and described himself. A part of him is telling him to agree, to just look at Lance and Gwen and gesture at Merlin and say, “Yes, he’s right. That’s my type, and that type is Merlin.” The other part of us is screaming at him to play it off, to agree in jest, and roll his eyes, and then let the conversation go elsewhere. 

   “So,” Gwen says slowly, “your sister?” She asks, making Arthur actually choke on his drink. Merlin snorts a laugh. Lance looks between him and Merlin with an unnervingly knowing eye.

   “Or Merlin, if Arthur played for his team.” He says mildly. Arthur very nearly falls out of his chair as he meets his friend’s eyes. He’s panicking, and he knows that it’s obvious, but he can’t seem to stop. Everyone has fallen silent, all looking back and forth between each other. 

   Finally, Arthur says, “Sure. If I played for his team. There you go, Gwen. That’s my type, I suppose.”

   He gets to his feet, excusing himself to the bathroom as his friends start up a new conversation. He can feel their eyes hot on the back of his neck, though. Feels the heat of Merlin’s gaze especially prickling at his skin. He couldn’t do this anymore. Something had to give. Either he stopped lying and came out to his friends, or he broke up with Merlin. He couldn’t keep this up, not when Merlin deserved so much better. Both options make him feel sick, and he nearly vomits in the toilet when he reaches the bathroom.

+1)

   The opportunity to come out to their friends presents itself much sooner than Arthur is expecting. It’s three days later, at Morgana’s lush flat, that Arthur finds himself sucked into a mangled version of some form of truth or dare. Again. This time, though, it’s like the two are mashed together. Arthur keeps his drinks decidedly non-alcoholic. While the liquid courage might be nice, Arthur doesn’t want anything clouding his judgement. He doesn’t want Merlin thinking that he’s only doing this because his inhibitions are lowered. 

   As the game goes on, Arthur starts to think that this will be the one time he doesn’t get called on. The one time he actually wants to answer his friend’s prying questions, but never gets the chance. Eventually, though, Lance turns contemplative eyes his way, and Arthur’s stomach explodes in a nervous flurry. He remembered the last time Lance had been over at his and Merlin’s flat. He remembers the look in Lance’s eyes as he had looked between himself and Merlin. The gears turning in his head as he successfully connected all the dots. 

   “Arthur,” Lance says, “what is one thing you’ve always wanted to do, but never have?” He tilts his head slightly as he ponders the rest. “Whatever it is, do it now.”

   Arthur chews on his lower lip as he thinks over what he is about to do. He feels everyone’s eyes on him as he remains quiet. They all probably assume he’s trying to think of something. Only Merlin’s eyes, holding steady on him, seem to already know what he’s thinking. And that was the thing. Merlin always seemed to know what he was thinking, what he wanted or needed. Arthur half expects him to pipe up in Arthur’s defence, spew out some random thing that he knows Arthur has always wanted to do. He would save him like that, Arthur knew, so he doesn’t give him the chance.

   With a deep breath, Arthur twists in his spot to face Merlin, ever present beside him, and swiftly reaches out both hands to cup his jaw as he leans in and kisses him tenderly on the mouth. Merlin doesn’t tense up, doesn’t overly react at all. He kisses back calmly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, the two of them kissing in front of their friends. His lack of reaction puts Arthur more at ease. This wasn’t a big deal. This was okay. Slowly, very slowly, Arthur pulls away.

   Without looking away from Merlin, Arthur says, “Merlin and I have been dating for the last six months, but we’ve kept it quiet because I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. But that’s not a fair way to treat the man I’m in love with, so I’m not hiding anymore.”

   Merlin gasps softly, making Arthur’s already wild heart beat get even worse. They had never exchanged those three words yet. Arthur had sensed that Merlin had been close a few times, but they had never crossed that line in their relationship. Until now. He can see in Merlin’s eyes that he desperately wants to kiss him again, do anything, really, so Arthur does it for him. He dives back in, kissing Merlin soundly and firmly. He doesn’t pull away again until he remembers that they are very much not alone at the moment.

   Lance is looking at him approvingly as he pulls away again. He’s aware of his cheeks glowing red, but meets Lance’s eyes briefly all the same. Gwen is smiling widely, cuddling into Lance’s side as she nods at Merlin. Gwaine is a little wide eyed, but looks admittedly impressed. Morgana is smirking, Leon looks relieved, and Elyan and Percy exchange almost knowing grins.

   “That’s it. That’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m not straight, I’m bi, and I’m madly in love with my best friend.” He says, looking from one set of eyes to the next, until he’s looked at each of his friends in turn. There are no hints of animosity anywhere. In fact, they all look very happy for him. For them.

   “You know, suddenly their living arrangements make a whole lot more sense. I accidentally stumbled into their room once when I was drunk and looking for the bathroom, and could’ve sworn it looked like both of them slept in there together.” Gwaine says, making Merlin laugh and Arthur splutter. Merlin’s warm hand intertwines with his own, squeezing firmly. Arthur looks over at him, and finds Merlin’s blue eyes shining with adoration and devotion.

   “Thank you.” He murmurs. Arthur’s heart flutters in his chest as he presses another chaste kiss to Merlin’s pretty mouth. 

   “I don’t want to keep us a secret anymore. I’m proud to call you boyfriend, and as terrifying as it may be, I want the whole world to know that, too.” Arthur replies quietly, trying to keep a modicum of privacy within the crowded room. Merlin smiles dazzlingly bright, then kisses him again. They don’t pull away until their entire group of friends groan practically in unison, and tell them to knock it off.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from dyingbetweenthepages on Tumblr: Modern setting. Morgana persuades Arthur to finally come with her and a bunch of her friends (one of which is Merlin) hiking. Arthur reluctantly agrees, but finds out that dragging a heavy rucksack for days is worth it for more reasons than just the scenery and the marshmallow around the fire.

   Arthur Pendragon wasn’t pouting. Absolutely not. He didn’t pout. He was just less than enthused about his current circumstances, which were three long days of hiking and sleeping outside in the elements. He doesn’t go camping. He doesn’t enjoy hiking through the woods, or sleeping on the cold, hard ground. He doesn’t like being limited to whatever he can cook fully over a fire, or what he can eat cold. He doesn’t like have to suffer through campfire smoke, or insects, or any other of the thousand unpleasant things about being outside. He liked his plush bed, and moderately easy to make meals, and unlimited access to functional plumbing. How Morgana had ever been able to talk Arthur into this, was honestly beyond him.

   “Oh stop, Arthur.” Morgana scolds from the drivers seat of her SUV. Arthur scowls out the passenger side window even more. He was, by no means, going to enjoy this. His sister may as well know that early. “You might even surprise yourself and have fun, if you give it a chance.”

   Arthur can’t help the unamused laugh that bubbles up his throat. Fun was not what this weekend had in store for him. Hanging out with his sister, who was three years his junior, and her group of equally young friends, did not strike Arthur as an overly fun way to spend his time. Still, there wasn’t much he could do about it now. Except, of course, stare out the window moodily, and wish he was anywhere but where he currently was. 

   All too soon for Arthur’s liking, they are pulling into a parking lot. Tall, green trees surround them on practically all sides, and had the circumstances been different, Arthur may have actually found the beauty in his surroundings. As it is, he merely scowls, and curses the very existence of nature. As they come to a stop in the gravel carpark, several people, all huddled in a group, look over and grin. Morgana grins back as she throws open her door, and jumps out.

   “Sorry we’re late!” She calls as she approaches what is obviously her group of friends. “Arthur was being a pain in my ass, as usual.”

   Arthur rolls his eyes, climbing out of his sister’s SUV much more sedately than she had. He rounds the back of the vehicle, and reluctantly approaches the group. They were all a couple years younger than him, at least. In number, it really didn’t make much of a difference. In age, however, Arthur suddenly felt very old, and very out of place.

   “Everyone, this is my older brother, Arthur.” Morgana says, gesturing to him. Arthur nods his head politely, smiling as much as he can. “Arthur, this is Gwaine,” she gestures to the bloke with long hair and scruff on his jaw, “my friend Gwen, but you know her,” the woman in questions waves hello, “her brother Elyan,” the dark skinned man beside Gwen nods in greeting, “and Elena.” Morgana finishes, gesturing to a blonde woman who grins and waves enthusiastically. 

   “Hi.” Arthur says, stiltedly lifting a hand to wave. Morgana turns to peer at Gwaine.

   “Where’s Merlin?” She asks, and Arthur can’t help the splutter of laughter that leaves his lips. Everyone turns to look at him as one. 

   “Merlin?” He asks incredulously. “Someone actually named their child Merlin?”

   Morgana screws her nose up in mild confusion. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. Plenty of times.” She muses. She doesn’t get anything else out, as that moment, a beat up sedan pulls into the gravel lot and comes to a shuddering stop next to the rest of the parked vehicles. Morgana beams in its direction.

  “I’m assuming that’s Merlin?” Arthur asks, clearly unimpressed. Why would anyone want to ever show up anywhere in a vehicle like that?

   It’s Gwaine who answers him with a grin. “Yes, mate, that’s Merlin. You’re going to love him.”

   Arthur sincerely has his doubts about that. However, he keeps his mouth shut, waiting for this Merlin to make an appearance. When he does, Arthur thinks, for a very brief moment, that he’s swallowed his tongue. Merlin is tall, and lean, with milky skin, and a shock of dark hair. Even from his distance away, Arthur can see the sharp line of his cheekbones, the snug fit of his hiking clothes. When Merlin grins in their direction, it’s so blinding, that Arthur momentarily forgets how to breathe. 

   “Hey, everyone!” Merlin calls, opening the boot on his car, and pulling out his pack. Everyone calls greetings back to him. Everyone except Arthur. He simply stares at the newcomer, mind racing a mile a minute, even though it feels likes it’s still stalled somewhere around Merlin’s chest. How was this man a friend of Morgana’s?

   “Merlin!” Morgana calls happily, stepping out of the little group to go over and pull him into a friendly embrace. The sight somehow, illogically, makes Arthur’s stomach curl. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

   Merlin grimaces. “Yeah, I would’ve been here sooner, but Aithusa wasn’t happy about me leaving, and I had to save Lance once or twice.”

   The name falling so easily from Merlin’s lips, pulls Arthur’s attention back to where it is supposed to be. How did Merlin know Lance, Arthur’s mate from his footie team, and not to mention, five months older than Arthur himself? He doesn’t get the chance to ask, because Morgana is already nodding sympathetically, and gesturing the group to get ready to set out. Merlin glances up briefly, looking directly in Arthur’s direction, and the blond swallows heavily. The man has the brightest and bluest eyes that Arthur has ever seen.

   As everyone else starts to leave, Merlin instead approaches him. “You must be Arthur.” He says. When Arthur nods, Merlin grins, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m Merlin.”

   “I gathered as much.” Arthur replies, making Merlin grin wider as he reaches out to grip the man’s hand. His skin tingles and here it touches the brunet’s, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from reacting outwardly. 

   “We’ve all heard a lot about you. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” Merlins eyes flick over his face, something appreciative sparking in his blue eyes. Arthur tries his best not to let his cheeks flood with heat. 

   “All great things, I’m sure.” Arthur replies sarcastically, making Merlin laugh. Something satisfied and pleasant buzzes in Arthur’s body at the sound. He suppresses a shiver as Merlin slides his hand away from his, pointing his thumb over his shoulder toward where the others are already disappearing onto the trail.

   “Shall we?” He asks. Arthur very nearly groans. With the appearance of Merlin, he had temporarily forgotten why he was even out here in the first place. Merlin grins widely at whatever face had slipped past Arthur’s mask, making Arthur’s cheeks redden just slightly, and starts to turn away. Arthur takes a moment to settle himself (and absolutely not to snatch a quick peek at Merlin’s backside as he walked away), then dutifully follows.

   To Arthur’s surprise, as they reach the trail head, Merlin doesn’t speed up to catch up with his friends. Instead, he stays faithfully by Arthur’s side, engaging him in conversation, and doing his best to pry out as many details about Arthur’s life as he possibly can. At first, Arthur is hesitant to tell Merlin too much. After all, he doesn’t really know him. He’s only just met the man today. However, something about Merlin loosens his tongue. He feels comfortable with him, more comfortable than he has ever felt with someone he’s never met before. Something about Merlin tells Arthur that he can trust him. And trust him he does. 

   As they walk along, Merlin being surprisingly clumsy as he trips over tree roots and errant rocks, Arthur almost completely forgets how unpleasant he finds this activity. Walking through the trees with Merlin beside him, laughing at his jokes, and just simply smiling at him, made the effort of hiking through the trees, heavy backpack on his back, and the distinct feeling of sweat seeping through the back of his shirt, almost worth it. By the time the whole group stops for lunch, Arthur is actually starting to mildly enjoy himself. Not that he’d ever let his sister know that. She’d never let him hear the end of it.

   Lunch passes unremarkably. Morgana shoots Arthur appraising looks throughout, but never approaches him to question why Merlin is still, even now, by his side. Merlin’s other friends are giving them thoughtful looks as well, especially the one Morgana had introduced as Gwaine. Seriously, what was with the names of these people?

   As everyone starts packing up, readying to continue on to their campsite for the night, Arthur turns to Merlin and says, “You know, if you want to talk with your friends, you can. You don’t have to hang back with me.”

   Merlin looks puzzled for a moment. “Do you not want me walking with you?”

   “What? No!” Arthur blanches. “That’s not it at all. I just... if you’d prefer the company of your real friends, I’d understand.”

   Merlin breaks out into a beautiful smile. He doesn’t say anything, but shrugs one shoulder up close to his slightly oversized ear, and turns to finish stuffing his food into his large pack. Arthur chews on his lower lip, watching Merlin for a moment, before doing the same. Once his pack is again on his back securely, the whole group starts off again. Merlin stays right beside him the entire time.

~~~

   Making camp is much more difficult than Arthur had ever imagined it. The tent poles don’t want to stay up, and the ground is littered in sharp rocks that keep digging into Arthur’s knees as he struggles. He’s acutely aware of Morgana sniggering with Gwen from off to his right. He bites back a groan of frustration when he hears footsteps approaching.

   “Need help there, Princess?” A voice asks. Arthur looks up, scandalized at the name, and sees Gwaine grinning down at him. “I could give you a hand. Or, if you prefer more delicate models, I can get Merlin.” He gestures to where Merlin is expertly finishing up his tent and laying his sleeping bag down inside. Arthur scowls at the man in front of him.

   “Firstly, don’t call me Princess.” Arthur all but snaps, only making Gwaine grin wider. “Secondly, I don’t need help.”

   Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

   “Yes.” Arthur replies bluntly, nearly stabbing himself in the eye with a tent pole. Honestly, why did people find this fun? Who decided to hike out into the woods and sleep under a tarp, and then scandalously call it an enjoyable activity to do? Arthur wanted to have word with them.

   “Suit yourself. I’m sure if you bat those eyelashes of yours, Merlin will come running.” Gwaine jokes. Arthur bristles at his suggestive tone, but before he can reply, the man is sauntering off. Arthur huffs at his retreating back, glancing in Merlin’s direction yet again. The man is already look back at him, almost sympathetically. Arthur hurriedly looks away as Merlin rises to his feet.

   “Here, let me do it.” Merlin’s voice says as his crunching footsteps get closer. Arthur looks up, equal parts helpless and stubborn. “Don’t be a prat, and just let me help you.”

   Arthur’s mouth drops open in shock. Why did these people keep calling him such insulting names? What had Morgana told them about him? Still, he does as he’s told, inching backwards over the dirt as Merlin settles in his previous place. Within minutes, his tent is up, Merlin grinning victoriously. Arthur stares at him in wonder. Who was this guy?

   “Thank you.” He says, Merlin nods with a smile.

   “Can’t have you freezing out here in the elements. It’d be a shame to ruin that perfect face.” Merlin replies with a wink, rising to his feet and walking away before Arthur can reply. Arthur is left staring after him, mouth slightly agape.

   Once all the tents are up, everyone gathers around the fire. Elena pull out hot dogs, Gwaine somehow wrangling a roasting stick of his pack. Everyone takes turns using it, while the others make s’mores with relatively clean sticks scattered about. Arthur settles back near the fire, letting its warmth heat his booted feet, as he listens to the group converse and joke amongst themselves. Unsurprisingly, Merlin captures his attention the most. He has a dark sense of humour, completely opposite from his otherwise delicate look. His laugh is contagious, though, and Arthur finds himself cracking smiles, even when he doesn’t fully understand the joke yet. Everyone else finds him equally as entertaining.

   Eventually, the hour grows late, and the flames die down past the point of properly reviving them, and everyone slowly breaks off to sleep. One by one, people leave, tents being zipped up behind them. Once it’s just Merlin and Arthur left, Arthur feels his heart rate pick up in his chest. The way the flames are flickering shadows over Merlin’s face is truly enchanting. He looks ethereal. Otherworldly. Captivating. Arthur can’t seem to make himself quite look away. When Merlin catches him staring, he blushes and finally manages to duck his head.

   “I’ll see you in the morning, Arthur.” Merlin says softly as he rises to his feet. Arthur hums in reply, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He was too worried that he’d say something damning. Like how he wanted to know what Merlin’s pulse felt like under his lips.

   He doesn’t get up to make his way to his tent until he’s heard Merlin zip his own shut for the night.

~~~

    Arthur groans as he slowly wakes up. The hard, unforgiving ground beneath him has made his back sore overnight, and he silently curses Morgana’s very existence. The early morning light shining through the thin tent walls effectively cuts off any chance of him falling back asleep. Fumbling his hand out of his sleeping bag, he pats around until he finds his phone. The screen lights up, telling him that it’s just before 5:30 in the morning. He rolls onto his back, and groans again.

   When laying on the cold, hard ground becomes too much, he reluctantly rises to his feet. Pulling on his clothes for the day, he unzips his tent, and all but falls out the small opening. Cursing profusely under his breath, he makes his way out into the bush, far enough away that he can safely relieve himself, before slowly making his way back. He stops mid-yawn and mid-step when he sees a familiar form sitting by the remnants of last night’s fire.

   Merlin is dressed in an oversized jumper, the sleeves hanging down past his palms, and making little sweater paws over his fingers. His boots are hastily pulled on, but unlaced, and a woollen toque is pulled down over his ears. Clearly he was feeling the slight chill to the early morning air. He’s blinking blearily as he looks up at the early morning sky, his Adam’s Apple bobbing every time he swallows. He appears to be the only other person awake just yet, and Arthur can’t seem to find any envy for his still sleeping companions anymore. 

   Arthur takes another step closer, and promptly trips over a stray branch. Merlin’s head snaps around to look at him, a smile blooming across his face as his eyes land on him. Arthur smiles back, cheeks slightly red. He lifts a hand in a small wave as he gets closer, slowly sinking down to sit on the upturned log beside him.

   “Mornin’.” Merlin says lazily.

   “Morning.” Arthur replies. Merlin grins wider.

   “Sleep well?” He asks. Arthur shakes his head vehemently.

   “Not at all. I seem to have set my tent up over some particularly large and pointy rocks.” He grumbles in reply. Merlin continues to grin openly at him. “I hate this whole hiking and camping thing.”

   “Oh, I don’t know.” Merlin says easily. “It has its perks.”

   Arthur looks at him incredulously. “And what, pray tell, are those?”

   The man blinks once, cheeks colouring slightly. Arthur watches in mild fascination. “I don’t know.” Merlin says. “I finally got to meet you this time, didn’t I?”

   Arthurs heart jumps in his chest. Did he really just say that? Was Arthur’s ridiculously one-sided attraction not so one-sided after all? Merlin’s smile turns bashful, and he turns his head away slightly. Arthur swallows thickly.

   “True. That’s one hell of a perk.” He finally replies. Merlin looks back with a wide grin, eyes looking almost relieved. He watches as Merlin seems to mentally formulate an answer, sorting through his words carefully before ever uttering a verbal reply. Arthur waits in silence, not entirely sure what he wants his reply to actually be.

   “Yeah?” Merlin finally asks. Arthur’s eyebrows quirk slightly. That was it?

   “Yes, Merlin.” Arthur drawls. “Or did you actually think I was starting to enjoy myself yesterday because I was suddenly awoken to my secret love of the great outdoors?”

   Merlin blushes further. “Well, I mean, I guess I was hoping somewhat, I just didn’t want to read too much into things. That usually just brings disappointment.” He says it so naturally, like he was used to people leading him on, stringing him along with carefully placed words and looks, only to crush his hopes of something real in the end. The thought makes Arthur’s heart lurch so painfully in his chest, that he does the only thing he can really think of in that moment. And oh, how unthinkable it still is.

   Merlin gasps against his lips as Arthur kisses him firmly on the mouth. A second later and slender fingers are digging into his hair, twisting around the locks and pulling just the right amount. Arthur has to bite back a moan as he sinks closer, hands reaching forward of their own accord to grip at the man’s slim waist. He pulls, inching Merlin closer, revelling in all the places where they are touching fully. A burst of warmth erupts in his chest, followed closely by a flurry of nervously flying butterflies, and he pushes as much of the feeling as he can through his mouth into Merlin’s. The man whines softly, hands clutching the back of his head somehow pulling him closer.

   Just as Arthur is happily licking into Merlin’s quite willing mouth, someone clears their throat behind them. Arthur startles, pulling back so quickly that he topples off his log, and ends up in the dirt. He blinks up at his sister’s smug face. Merlin blinks owlishly above him. 

   “We were just—” Arthur stumbles. 

   When it looks like Arthur isn’t going to be coming up with anything else, Merlin adds, “Talking. Just talking.”

   Arthur blushes as Morgana grins. “It looked like a very important conversation. I must say, I’m sorry to have interrupted. I’ve only been trying to introduce you two to each other for four months. Arthur is such a stubborn arse when he wants to be.” Morgana says to Merlin, acting as is Arthur wasn’t sitting right there. He flushes even redder, mind grinding practically to a halt as he realizes the meaning behind his sister’s words. She had been trying to set them up for months. Trying to introduce Arthur to basically the man of his dreams for months. Of course, Morgana had never mentioned Merlin by name, which was why Arthur hadn’t recognized the significance when Merlin showed up yesterday. She had only said ‘a friend’. If only he could go back and kick his younger self’s stupid ass.

   “No matter.” She winks. “I’m glad you’ve finally acted on all that tension between you two. The rest of us were placing bets on when it would happen. I said you two wouldn’t last much past the ‘early morning, soft and sleep rumpled’ phase. Looks like I was right.” With that she spins on her heel, and makes her way back to her tent. Arthur is fairly certain that he hears Gwen giggling from inside as Morgana disappears from view. Merlin clearing his throat from beside him makes him look back over.

   “So, uh—” Merlin rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “When we’re back to civilization, would you maybe like to go on a date with me?”

   Arthur chuckles warmly. “I suppose I could make some time for that.” He replies, breaking out into a grin. “If you come back here and snog me some more.”

  Arthur practically gets the breath knocked forcibly from his lungs as Merlin jumps on him. As their lips once again connect, soft and warm and intoxicating, Arthur again wishes that he could go back in time to knock some sense into his younger self. He could have been doing this months ago! Merlin seems to sense his lack of complete focus, and nips at his lower lip. Arthur groans, the action effectively shutting his brain off. 

   They don’t come back up for air, sheepishly pulling apart with kiss swollen lips and flushed faces, until Gwaine crawls out from his tent, and promptly starts cheering as loudly and obnoxiously as he possibly can. Merlin merely rolls his eyes fondly, then helps Arthur to his feet, offering to help him pack up his things, all the while ignoring Gwaine’s voice in the background. Arthur agrees, heart fluttering madly in his chest. He honestly couldn’t wait until he was back in the city. Back to his plush bed, moderately easily cooked meals, and unlimited access to functional plumbing. For more reasons than one, now. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from Gianegomez on AO3: Canon era, Merlin is being so fucking cute/adorable that Arthur can’t resist kissing him, and could you include a little jealous Arthur too? (So, I think I got the jealous Arthur down pretty good. Not too sure about the adorable Merlin?? Hopefully this fulfills what you were looking for, and if not, then I am very sorry!!)

   Arthur knew that he really should know the name of the visiting King’s son. He was a Prince in his own kingdom, after all. But in reality, all Arthur could truly focus on was Merlin currently standing by the other man’s side. It had been by his father’s orders, Merlin suddenly abandoning Arthur to temporarily work for this visiting Prince, but that didn’t mean that Arthur had to like it. And like it, he did not. In fact, he hated it with every possible part of his body. He was almost scarily accustomed to Merlin’s steady presence beside him now, considering how much he just wanted the man gone when he first showed up. Suddenly seeing Merlin tripping after another prince did not sit well with him. 

   For starters, Merlin was his manservant. His personal manservant. Arthur did not like to share his things. Especially not the things closest to him. Secondly, from such a distance, he could truly see how endearing Merlin’s oddities really were. The way he somehow managed to trip over nothing, the way he dropped nearly a third of what he carried in any given day, the small smiles he’d give in apology, the dimples that showed when he smiled genuinely. It made Arthur’s heart race, similar to the way he felt before a tourney, but completely different at the same time. 

   Currently, Arthur is sitting at the large banquet table, next this father. Directly in his line of sight is their esteemed guests of honour, King Turent (from a faraway land that Arthur admittedly had little knowledge of) and the Prince (Arthur was somewhat sure his name was Garrett). Merlin is standing behind Prince Garrett obediently, hands clasped behind his back, and face impassive. He would almost look the picture of a perfect servant, except for the fact that Arthur can tell Merlin is rocking back and forth between his heels and toes. It’s a discreet movement, barely noticed unless you knew what to look for, but it was there all the same. Something about it makes Arthur’s stomach flutter. 

   Prince Garrett turns around and gestures to Merlin, who immediately steps closer. He bends down a bit, so the Prince can speak into his ear. Arthur grits his teeth at how close the other man leans in. He isn’t a nasty man. If anything, he is the exact opposite. Prince Garrett is a fair man, well liked by his people (or so he says). He is caring and empathetic, much like Arthur himself (at times). However, that is where any similarities between the two stop. While Arthur is all golden hair and striking blue eyes, Garrett has deep rich brown locks that curl just so around his ears, and eyes to match. While Arthur has the muscles developed from hours upon hours of training with every weapon he can get a hold of, Prince Garrett is more lean. There’s still muscle there, but not from lifting heavy swords all day. He is also, much as Arthur is loathe to admit it, a few inches taller than the Prince of Camelot. And to make matters worse, Merlin seems to have already taken a liking to him. (“He doesn’t throw things at me. Maybe you should take some lessons.” “Shut up, Merlin.”)

   A small smile flickers across Merlin’s face at whatever Prince Garrett whispers to him, and he fights it back valiantly. The resulting tug at the corners of his mouth, while his lips press tight into a thin line, makes Arthur grip his cutlery harder. He can feel the bite of metal into his palm, but he doesn’t much care. Watching his servant enjoy someone else’s company that much was more painful than anything physical could do to him. Merlin’s eyes flick over to him, and he drops his gaze, cheeks flaring a little red at the fact that he had been caught. A soft chuckle makes him discreetly look over again, and Merlin is straightening up, cheeks also a little pink, and Garrett grins. Arthur promptly scowls. This was going to be a very long week, and it had only been a day so far. 

   As the feast comes to a close, Arthur tries to catch Merlin’s attention. He wants to talk to him. He’s never gone this long without speaking with the man since he stumbled into his life, and he finds that he sorely misses the company. However, Garrett immediately gestures Merlin’s closer, and leaves the hall with a nod from both his father, and Arthur’s. The two kings watch as Garrett sweeps from the hall, Merlin in tow. Arthur watches blankly as the pair disappear from view.

   “He’s a fine young man.” Uther says to Turent. The other man chuckles and nods.

   “That he is. Much like your own son, I’m sure.” King Turent replies agreeably. Uther glances in Arthur’s direction, and, to the Prince’s surprise, smiles. “And quite the servant you’ve gifted us with for the week, too, King Uther. Bright young lad.”

   Arthur frowns. Merlin? Bright? He has to suppose that Merlin isn’t actually as much of an idiot as Arthur always says he is. He can read and write. He sometimes has very well timed words of wisdom when Arthur needs them most. But he’s atrocious at his job. Well, maybe not that bad anymore, but his services often leave a little to be desired. He’s also mouthy, and insolent, and has no regard for station, or matters of the court. He’s not typically what one would consider “servant material”. But maybe he’s only like that with Arthur. Maybe, he’s much better for anyone who isn’t a certain blond haired Crown Prince. That thought wiggles into his brain, and settles down to fester. Maybe Merlin isn’t happy here with him. Something that Arthur suspects as jealousy flares to life inside his chest. 

~~~

   The next morning dawns bright and early, with George waking him promptly on time, and providing a lavish breakfast for Arthur to feast on. He barely eats any of it. His thoughts are stubbornly stuck on Merlin, thus ridding him of any appetite he may have otherwise had. He slowly chews on a piece of bread, thinking over the borderline cute way Merlin had grimaced and smiled and made other interesting faces with Gwen at the feast the night before. He had to keep these pesky feelings, that he’s resigned himself to labelling as affection, hidden, until Merlin was back beside him like he was supposed to be. Beside him, Arthur couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see his expressions, or mannerisms, or anything else. If he could just hold on till King Turent and his entourage left, then he should be okay. 

   Armour on, he makes his way through the castle halls alone on his way to the training grounds. He feels bereft without Merlin at his side, where he’s supposed to be. Soldiering on, he finally gets to the double doors leading out to the square, and pushes them open. Early morning sunshine is filtering through the slight cloud cover, promising a perfect morning for hard training with his men. A half smile curls his lips as he takes the steps down and continues on to the field. He pulls up short when he spots someone else already there as well. Prince Garrett is standing on the edges of the grounds, Merlin fluttering about him as he does up buckles and checks straps on the man’s fancy armour. Arthur nearly rolls his eyes. He’s no stranger to having nice things, but armour should be more practical over pretty. One saved your life, the other did not. 

   Merlin glances up as Arthur slowly starts to approach again. He says something to the other Prince, getting a nod in return. With permission given, Merlin turns and starts to head towards Arthur, managing to trip over an uneven patch of ground on the way. He throws his arms out for balance, taking a few stumbling steps before righting himself. Once he’s fully righted himself he glances up at Arthur with a somehow sheepish and toothy grin on his face. Arthur grits his teeth against the fond flutter in his stomach.

   “Sire, do you want me to check your armour? I know that George tends to tighten the buckles a bit too much.” Merlin offers. Arthur wants to say no, wants to tell Merlin to run off and see to his new prince, but the problem was that Merlin was right. George had tightened the buckles a bit too much. Not to the point that they hurt, but definitely to the point that he felt them a lot more than he usually did.

   “Fine, but do it quickly, Merlin. I have knights to train.” Arthur replies haughtily. Merlin gives him a funny look, but moves to do as he offered all the same. Arthur very nearly shivers as he feels Merlin’s fingers fiddling with the various buckles and straps, for what feels like the first time in months, instead of merely a couple of days. 

   “There you go, Sire. Will there be anything else?” Merlin asks as he steps back. He looks so genuinely curious as to whether Arthur has more for him to do, that is actually brings Arthur pause for a moment. Merlin was never quite this accommodating. 

   Arthur narrows his eyes as he replies, “No. Go back to your temporary new master, Merlin.” Merlin nods, albeit almost reluctantly, and turns to leave. Arthur looks away, but not before he sees Prince Garrett giving them a curious look. Something defensive curls in Arthur’s chest, and he fully spins away, marching onto the training field and barking orders at his men. They all hurry into positions and begin running through the drills methodically, listening to further instructions as Arthur gives them. 

   About halfway through, Arthur stops to give them a short break. As his men wander off to the edges of the field to get water, Arthur stays put, twirling his blade, and running through more complicated manoeuvres on his own. He glances up as he catches a movement from the corner of his eye, looking over to see Prince Garrett approaching him, with Merlin nodding encouragingly behind him. The other man glances back at Arthur’s manservant, and Merlin’s grin widens even more as he lifts a thumbs up. Prince Garrett turns back and continues approaching Prince Arthur. 

   “Prince Arthur,” the man inclines his head slightly, “would you be so kind as to run through some drills with me? I’ve heard many tales about your swordsmanship, and I would like to receive from pointers to bring back to our own Knights back home.”

   Arthur’s eyes flick back to where Merlin is now helping his men get water. They all seem rather fond of Merlin. Laughing and joking with him. Making him smile wide enough that those little dimples appear in his cheeks. He’s flushed slightly, but whether that’s from exertion or otherwise, Arthur can’t tell. A soft cough brings his attention back to the visiting prince.

   “Of course.” Arthur nods. He gestures to the rack of spare swords set near the men crowding around Merlin, but to his surprise, Prince Garrett pulls his own sword out. It’s fancy, and gleams in the sunlight. Ornate and regal, there was no doubt. However, something so flawless often meant it never saw much use. Arthur does his best not to frown. He had been raised thinking that a Prince’s duty was to protect their people, and he protected his people the best with steel. Clearly, Prince Garrett did not share his same views. 

   For a very brief moment, Arthur contemplates going hard on the man, but decides in favour of not. This was a prince, after all, and the prince of a kingdom that his father was working hard to achieve peace and partnership with. It would only serve to make matters more difficult if Arthur were to show Prince Garrett exactly what he was truly capable of, no matter how badly he may want to. It wasn’t that he disliked Prince Garrett. He just disliked how much his manservant had seemed to settle into his new role with someone else.

   The two royals end up sparring for longer than Arthur had originally anticipated, and by the end, Prince Garrett is panting heavily and flushed red, but grinning. The knights of Camelot are gathered around, watching their own prince intently as he goes through the easier drills with their visitor. Merlin is there, too, watching both Arthur and Garrett with an easy grin on his face. He’s leaning back, looking entirely too comfortable, and when Arthur catches his eye, he grins wider. Something about the almost borderline affection written on the man’s face makes Arthur mentally stumble a bit. He catches himself, just as Merlin looks like he starts to chuckle to himself, and tears his gaze away.

   “That’s enough for today.” He announces, to both the prince he’s meant to be entertaining during the duration of his visit, and to his own men. He’s tired, and inexplicably cranky, and just wants to get out of his armour and continue on with his duties for the day. He feels a modicum of self-satisfaction as he watches Prince Garrett slowly walk off the field. It soon disappears as Merlin moves to meet the man, clear sympathy written across his face. Arthur turns away with a scowl, refusing to let himself think about the fact that Merlin used to only look at him that way. 

~~~

   Two days pass in much the same way, the only difference being the stifling heat growing. Council meetings are nearly unbearable, and Arthur only just manages to get through with his sanity intact. It doesn’t help matters that his usual escape, in the form of Merlin sneaking close enough to whisper rude things in his ear about the councilmen, or discreetly shooting Arthur funny looks from across the room, isn’t there. Instead of waiting for Arthur by the door or behind him, like he usually would, he is now stationed behind the visiting prince. 

   Arthur glances in Merlin’s direction a few times throughout the duration of that afternoon’s meeting, and Merlin obligingly shot him varying degrees of rude looks. However, his ease of behaviour with their royal visitor was showing, as more often than not, Merlin was ducking close in the guise of refilling Prince Garrett’s goblet with water and whispering in his ear discreetly. On more than one occasion, the prince had to cover a snort of laughter hastily with a cough. Merlin always backed away looking smug, and the expression was so endearing, that Arthur often found it difficult to tear his eyes away. Was this how Merlin looked after nearly making Arthur burst out laughing during council meetings in the past? How had he managed to stay undetected for this long?

   Finally, King Uther and King Turent decide to call it enough for the day. Everyone rises to their feet respectfully, waiting to file out until the kings were gone, followed by the princes. Arthur’s gut churns unpleasantly as Merlin follows Prince Garrett obediently out. He was never quite so obliging with Arthur. Looking away, Arthur turns the opposite corner, and makes his way to his chambers the long way around, not wishing to see how comfortable Merlin suddenly was with his new temporary switch in master. 

   His chambers are hot, even with the windows wide open. Arthur sheds his ceremonial cloak as he goes, leaving it to rest draped over a chair at his table. Next to come off is the circlet over his golden locks, which ends up sitting on his desk. His doublet ends up on the floor by his bed, leaving him in only his dark trousers and off-white tunic. He stands by the window, looking out over the city as the sun slowly sinks closer to the horizon. The sky is still blue, but Arthur knows that it’ll soon be streaked with pinks and oranges and golds. This was always his favourite time of the day. The time when the world was just a little more beautiful, and everyone just seemed to be in less of a hurry. 

   Heaving a sigh, Arthur turns. It was too hot here to stay for much longer. Leaving the window open, he moves back to the doors to his chambers and tugs them open. Slipping out into the hall, he makes his way through the lesser travelled parts of the castle to reach the entrance leading out into the gardens back behind the castle. Though he had never met his mother, he always felt somehow closer to her out here than anywhere else in the entirety of the city. For this reason, he always ended up here whenever he felt the need of his mother’s love and approval.

   As he steps out into the gentle evening breeze, he glances back up at the sky. As he suspected, streaks of sunset colours are making their way across the bright cloudless blue of the hot summer sky. He heaves a deep sigh, slowly feeling the stress and tension of the past few days leech out of his muscles. After a brief, peaceful moment, he opens his eyes and continues on his way into the Royal gardens. 

   People are rarely out here at this late hour of the evening, so Arthur is surprised to hear voices floating over on the breeze. Interest piqued, he slowly makes his way closer, keeping his steps light and airy to avoid detection. Turning a corner, he spots Gwen and Merlin sitting on the ground, chatting and laughing together. They both look so at ease, that Arthur stops moving and simply watches from a distance. Merlin is slowly twining flowers together into a chain, nimble and deft fingers pulling more over abundant flowers from their beds and twisting them together until he’s made a crown. Gwen giggles as Merlin places it over her dark curls. She says something softly, making Merlin throw his head back and laugh. Arthur feels himself smile at the sight.

   Merlin’s fingers reach for more flowers, different colours this time, again twisting and twining the stems together, such a practiced ease to his motions that Arthur wonders how many times he’s done this before. He hadn’t struck Arthur as the type to play with flowers, but the proof was sitting right in front of him, clearly making another crown of aromatic flowers, all soft colours and even softer petals. His servant looks so concentrated on his task, his tongue poking slightly out the side of his mouth, that Arthur is reminded of the children in the Lower Town as they carry out more complicated daily tasks. He looks innocent, worry free, totally at ease. ‘Cute.’ Arthur’s betraying mind supplies. 

   There’s a pull of longing in his chest, and he almost steps forward, when the sudden appearance of someone else interrupts his lurching movement. Arthur frowns as Prince Garrett gets closer, Gwen smiling politely up at him, as Merlin visibly grins. The other man smiles back, soft and open, and Arthur takes a hasty step back. Merlin gestures to the flower crown on Gwen’s head, then lifts the one he’s working on before gesturing fumblingly toward the other man. Prince Garrett smiles, clearly pleased that this peasant had offered to make him a girly crown. Arthur takes another step back, several emotions warring for dominance in his chest.

   As he starts to turn around to leave, deciding that the heat of his chambers was better than whatever torture this was shaping up to be, Gwen glances over at him. She had an unreadable expression on her face, and Arthur doesn’t stick around to puzzle it out. He continues turning, refusing to look back, even as he distinctly feels Merlin’s eyes burning holes into his back.

~~~

   The day King Turent and Prince Garrett leave, has Arthur feeling an odd sense of anticipation. The meetings with the King and his entourage went well, and Camelot had struck up a fairly steady relationship with their new friends, and everyone was parting ways satisfied. That was not why Arthur was feeling somewhat excited, though. No, he was finally getting Merlin back. And he was never going to let him be lent out to someone else ever again.

   As the visiting entourage slowly fades from view, Arthur turns away from the rampart wall, and looks at his father.

   “That went well.” He says. Uther nods.

   “It did. I feel we have built up a strong relationship.” The King replies. Arthur nods, waiting for his father to tell him he can go. He wants to find Merlin, who had suspiciously been absent while their visitors had been preparing to leave. He doesn’t get a formal dismissal, but the King himself turns away and leaves, silently telling Arthur he is free to go as well. The Prince all but runs through the stone halls towards his chambers. If Merlin was hiding out anywhere, it’d be there.

   Sure enough, when he swings the door open, Merlin is kneeling on the floor, polishing Arthur’s boots. The Prince lifts an eyebrow as he stands in the doorway, the heavy doors swinging shut softly behind him. Merlin briefly looks up, nods slightly, then goes back to work. Arthur continues to stare incredulously.

   “Are you pouting, Merlin?” He asks, a hint of his slight amusement showing through. Merlin looks up again, and blinks twice.

   “Of course not. Why would I be pouting?” He asks. Arthur scoffs, and steps farther into the room.

   “Oh, I don’t know,” Arthur waves a careless hand around vaguely, “because your new best friend just left? And who knows when we’ll be seeing them again?”

   Merlin furrows his brows slightly in confusion, and Arthur vehemently tells his fluttering heart that the look isn’t that endearing, so it should smarten up and behave properly. The servant slowly scrambles to his feet, boots and cloth forgotten. Only once he’s eye level with Arthur, does he speak.

   “What?” Is all he says. Arthur narrows his eyes slightly.

   “Don’t think I didn’t notice how pleased you were to be rid of me for the last week, Merlin. I’m not an idiot.” Arthur snaps. Merlin almost looks like he’s about to say ‘what?’ again, but manages to bite his tongue before he does. 

   “Arthur,” he says slowly instead, “I was only spending time with Prince Garrett because I had to. Yes, he was nice, and yes, he treated me well, but there’s a reason I turned him down when he offered to take me with him.” 

   This piece of information is news to Arthur, and he can’t quite fight back the shocked expression forming across his features. Prince Garrett had wanted to take Merlin away from him? For good? And Merlin said no?

   “Why?” He asks. Merlin just tilts his head slightly to the side, reminding Arthur slightly of the puppies one of his hunting dogs once had. He grits his teeth, and turns away, walking towards his table instead. He stops about halfway there when he spots something lying on the otherwise empty surface. A small chain of flowers, all twined together to form a crown.

   “What is that?” He asks, pointing at it. Merlin steps closer to see what the Prince is talking about. As Arthur stares at it, he realizes that it looks vaguely like the one Merlin had been slowly making when Prince Garrett had shown up in the Royal gardens. The flowers, upon closer inspection, are a mix of blue and golden yellow, woven together with such care that it looks more like art than anything else. Merlin must have somehow managed to keep them alive and healthy with his magic, despite the lack of water and nutrients available to them. But why keep something like that? A memento of his time with his new prince? 

   “Oh.” Merlin says. “Yeah, that.” He takes another few shaky steps closer, passing Arthur on his way. The Prince glances over and looks at him, takes in his obviously flushed cheeks. The nervous edge to his movements. “I, uh, I made it. For you.”

   “But you made that one for Prince Garrett.” Arthur blurts out, snapping his mouth shut in mortification as his cheeks flush red. Merlin half turns and looks at him.

   “No, I didn’t.” He disagrees.

   “Yes, you did. I saw you.” Arthur argues. 

   A soft, (dare Arthur say it) fond smile pulls across Merlin’s lips. “I know what you saw, but it wasn’t for him.” Merlin says, flush rising to his cheeks even more as he drops his eyes to their boots. “It was for you, and I was merely asking him if he thought it was fit for a prince. Seeing as he was one himself, I thought him the best candidate to ask.”

   “Right.” Arthur says, like he understands what Merlin is saying, when he actually doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. All he can focus on is the colour in Merlin’s cheeks. 

   “They reminded me of you. The flowers. I saw them in the garden when I was with Gwen, and they were just so eye catching and beautiful that I— it was stupid. I’ll throw it out.” He stumbles over his words. He makes a lurching movement to do just that, and Arthur shouts to stop him.

   “No!” The Prince takes a step forward, reaching a hand out as if to grab it himself, even though it was much too far for him to actually touch. 

   Merlin looks at him curiously as he repeats, “No?”

   A deep breath into his lungs has Arthur taking another step forward. “No. I— I like it.” The pair stand in silence for a moment before Arthur starts to grin. 

   “You think me beautiful?” Arthur finally asks, breaking the silence.

   “W-what?” Merlin stutters guiltily. Arthur cocks his head as he studies his manservant. His friend.

   “You said, you saw the flowers and thought they were beautiful, and that they reminded you of me. So, you must think me beautiful.” The Prince replies, stomach squirming happily as Merlin fidgets in front of him. That pull of longing tugs on his chest again, making Arthur take another step closer.

   “So,” he breathes as Merlin looks up, “do you?”

  Merlin looks equal parts excited and terrified. He licks his lips nervously, then tugs the lower one between his teeth as he nods sheepishly. Something warm and bright and ridiculously happy unfurls in Arthur’s chest, and he smiles wider as he takes yet another step closer. Merlin inhales sharply as he registers Arthur’s sudden close proximity, eyes flicking up to meet the Prince’s questioningly. 

   “Well, lucky for you,” Arthur says softly as he leans closer, “I find you beautiful, too.”

   Merlin doesn’t get the chance to reply as Arthur sways closer, unable to stop himself any longer. He feels the man’s breath hitch in his lungs, and he presses closer, hands greedily reaching out to grip Merlin’s waist, wanting to feel as much of him as he possibly can. Merlin kisses back readily, willingly opening up for his Prince and letting him in. Arthur eagerly takes everything he can, only reluctantly pulling away when his lungs start fiercely calling for breath. 

   Resting his forehead against Merlin’s, he keeps his eyes closed, and sighs happily. He pulls back, however, eyes snapping open, as Merlin speaks.

   “Wait, is that why you’ve been such a cranky prat this whole week? Have you been jealous?” Something about Merlin’s tone makes it sound like this prospect just may be the best thing that Merlin has ever heard.

   “No, of course not. Don’t be an idiot, Merlin. What could I possibly have to be jealous of?” He denies vehemently. Merlin’s face only lights up more.

   “Oh, you so have been! Gods, that explains so mu—” Merlin starts to crow happily.

   Arthur silences the rest of his sentence with another kiss, taking pleasure in the way Merlin instantly melts into him. He was definitely going to be using this method to shut Merlin up on much more frequent occasions in the future. It was most pleasant and effective, indeed.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from SL5 on AO3: (Post Magic Reveal) Arthur and Merlin are in a dangerous forest full of magical monsters. They find a hut/cave to stay in maybe and get into a fight and Merlin storms out. Arthur starts thinking Merlin had enough and left him there (not sure how to rationalize this). Merlin catches on to that when he comes back and is horrified.

   To say that Arthur is merely angry would be a vast understatement. He is furious, and it wasn’t even necessarily the magic he is furious about. No, it’s the endless lies, the lack of trust, the absence of communication, that is fuelling his seething mood. However, they didn’t have the time to talk properly at the moment. Not if they wanted to stay alive, that is. First, they had to seek shelter, then Arthur could question his servant as much as he liked. Though, even then, there was no guarantee that Merlin would actually answer his questions. That thought shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

   The forest they found themselves in is dark and dreary. A thick blanket of fog hangs the the air, just above their heads and shrouding the tops of the thick trunked trees in foreboding mystery. Anything could be lurking up in the higher branches, and neither man would ever know until it was too late. The day had been bright and warm enough when they had come across the thick forest, but the second they had ventured past the tree line, darkness had descended early upon them. The trees almost seemed to swallow them up, and when they turned back to leave, an endless expanse of dark trunks met their eyes. A damp chill hung in the air, their lightweight summer clothing doing little to combat the cold now nipping at their skin.

   All this, Arthur ignores as he slowly takes careful steps forward. His keen, warrior-sharp eyes scan the forest floor for loose branches, or dead leaves, making sure to avoid everything that could produce noise, and therefore give them away. Merlin, behind him, is being surprisingly silent, considering his utter failure to do so whilst hunting. Clearly he was more gifted in that department than he had let on. Yet another lie.

   Gritting his teeth, Arthur shoves all thoughts concerning Merlin aside. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted both of them to survive, and make it out of this forest in one piece, he had to stay sharp. He had to keep his senses solely tuned into everything going on around him, not just on his servant creeping silently along behind him. 

   A loud snap from above, makes Arthur halt, craning his head back to stare up at the fog, desperate for any kind of sign of what was lurking up there. The fog remains heavy and opaque. The snap sounds again, and just as something seems to move above him, Merlin shouts something incomprehensible, and rushes forward into his back. The pair go tumbling forwards, landing a good ten feet from where they had just been. In the place where Arthur’s feet had stood, is a large branch. Large enough that, had it landed on his head, he’d probably be dead. Merlin is panting heavily beside him.

   “How did you see that coming?” Arthur asks incredulously, once again looking up at the heavy fog. He sees nothing. Not even a disturbance from where the tree may have fallen.

   Merlin looks away as he mumbles, “Magic. My magic warned me.”

   Arthur feels a sting in his chest, and looks away. Of course it was his magic. What else could it have been? Clenching his jaw, he rises to his feet, Merlin following behind. Once back on his feet, Arthur warily looks around. They had to get out of here. Or at least find somewhere safe until they could figure out a better plan. The problem was, the fog was slowly descending closer (Arthur guessed that night was probably starting to approach), and it would soon prove impossible to see. 

   Merlin clears his throat beside him, and when Arthur glances over, he says, “If you just trust me long enough, I can find us somewhere safe to go.”

   He doesn’t say how he’s going to manage to do that, but he doesn’t really need to. Arthur already suspects that he’s going to use his magic. As much as he’s loathe to agree, not that he hates magic, more that he doesn’t like being made to look like a fool for over a decade, he’s faced with very few other options. 

   “Fine.” He huffs in aggravation. “Do what you have to do.” 

   Merlin’s brow creases with a frown, but he steps forward all the same, staring ahead with intense concentration. Arthur watches, flinching back slightly as Merlin’s eyes glow gold. The man doesn’t even blink, just cocks his head slightly to the side as he studies the surrounding forest. When he does eventually blink, he leans back, focus fading from his face as the gold bleeds from his eyes. All that’s left is the familiar blue that always seems to catch Arthur’s wandering attention.

   “This way.” He says, gesturing for Arthur to follow him as he starts to venture into the forest. Arthur doesn’t bother to ask where they’re going, or how exactly Merlin knows. What spell he used to discern the way. He merely follows, biting his tongue until he tastes blood in his mouth. His swirling thoughts have time to ruminate and fester now that he doesn’t have to make all the decisions as to which way to go. A curious mix of emotions rises up in his chest. Some he recognizes, and understands. Anger. Betrayal. Hurt. Others, are more perplexing. A weird sense of loss, like he had lost a limb. A painful sensation of longing deep inside his bones. A desire to reach out and touch, to see if Merlin still felt the same under his fingers now that he knew the full truth about him. Would Merlin flinch back from his touch? Would he be repulsed by his King trying to return the normalcy between them? Would things ever be normal again? Were they ever normal to begin with?

   “Up there. That should be a safe enough sanctuary for the night.” Merlin says. Arthur pulls himself back to the present, peering ahead to see what Merlin was referring to. There, just barely discernible through the thickening fog, is a small hut. It looks weak, like it’s barely staying upright. Arthur looks at Merlin dubiously. The man shrugs.

   “It’s either that, or we stay out here. That I can at least properly protect. Out here, we’re pretty much fair game. Structures are easier to fortify than people.” Merlin says it so easily, like he’s done such things before. Arthur narrows his eyes. Had he? Had Merlin tried to cast protective spells on Arthur before he stepped foot in the tourney arena? Or onto a battlefield? Had he fortified Camelot’s walls against magical attacks, all without Arthur ever suspecting a thing?

   Arthur takes a moment before huffing out, “Fine.”

   Merlin nods, and starts to lead them forward. The sudden shift in control makes Arthur grit his teeth. He was the king here, out of the two of them. Not Merlin. He should therefore be the one making the decisions and leading the way. Frowning at Merlin’s back, Arthur follows him one step behind. 

   As they get closer, Arthur becomes more on edge. He scans their surroundings, peering through the thickening fog as best he can. He searches for any movement of any kind. Anything signalling this was a trap, or that something nasty was nearby. Lurking and waiting for them to get just close enough to attack. He sees nothing. That doesn’t appease him, however. If anything, it only serves to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up more, sharp tingles racing up and down his spine. He didn’t like this at all. 

   Reaching the small hut, Merlin moves to open the door, only Arthur shoves him aside. He receives a glare for his actions, but ignores it as he draws his sword and slowly inches the door open. The old, half rotted wood groans as it moves, not exactly instilling any shred of confidence. Arthur slowly makes his way inside, one step at a time, eyes darting around the cramped interior. He sees and hears nothing, so he proceeds farther, Merlin entering behind him. The sound of the door groaning shut makes Arthur look behind him. Merlin has his hand pressed to the wood, lips moving silently over unknown words. His eyes flash gold, and Arthur flinches slightly again, but nothing outwardly happens. Still, Merlin seems satisfied, and he turns back around to face the King. Arthur sets his features in a hard glare.

   “So.” Arthur says, haltingly. “Magic.”

   The man that, until recently, Arthur had thought of as his best friend, winces and looks away. Arthur continues to stare, trying to read the man’s mind through his actions and expressions alone. He is convinced that Merlin hadn’t intended for his magic to become known. Not yet, anyway. And certainly not the way it had. Arthur shivers as he remembers the sounds of trees crashing, and of loud, harsh, hissing breaths. The stench of death and rot had been overwhelming, clogging up Arthur’s nose to the point that he could barely breathe. He hadn’t even been able to get a proper look at whatever was bearing down upon them. One second he had been sure they would die, and the next, Merlin was striding forward, hand held up as he roared words in a tongue Arthur couldn’t hope to understand. There had been a flare of white light, and intense heat. Arthur had felt disoriented as it all passed, and when he had blinked back to something resembling normalcy, it had just been him and Merlin. Him and a sorcerer.

   “I know you’re angry—” Merlin starts, and Arthur cuts him off with a harsh, unamused laugh. 

   “Angry doesn’t even begin to come close, Merlin.” He snaps. He expects Merlin to wince again, or shrink away. What he doesn’t expect is for the man’s expression to harden, eyes darkening almost threateningly as he sets his jaw and squares his shoulder. This is a side of Merlin that Arthur has never before encountered. A side that the man has clearly kept hidden rather well. From him, at least. 

   “You’re angry.” Merlin says. He spreads his hands wide. “Cause I have magic?”

   “Yes!” Arthur retorts. “For starters.”

   Merlin’s expression shutters further, and Arthur fights back an unpleasant shiver. Something about this Merlin looked wrong. He wasn’t scared of him, though, despite the man being a sorcerer. The flurry of emotions building power inside him is such a jumbled mess that Arthur isn’t even entirely sure what he is feeling. He is still angry, sure, but that is slowly fading as the shock of Merlin’s unintentional confession wore off. What is emerging beneath that anger is nameless. Arthur has never felt it’s like before. It’s pain, and guilt, and confusion, and a strong need to just understand. And yet he felt like he never would understand. Not this. Not properly. And certainly not without Merlin.

   “It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.” Merlin replies emotionlessly. “I was born like this, Arthur. I can’t change that any more than you can change the colour of your eyes.”

   Arthur feels a sharp pain in his chest. Merlin had, had a choice. Of sorts, anyway. He had chosen never to tell him. That sharp pain fuels the sneer that pulls at his lips, the frown that mars his brow. 

   “No one is born with magic, Merlin. That’s never been heard of before.” He drawls. Merlin glares at him.

   “Just because something has never been heard of before, doesn’t make it wrong. Why would I lie about this?” Merlin snaps, eyes flashing angrily.

   Arthur looks at him, unimpressed, as he says, “For the same reason that you’d lie about the rest of it. To try to keep your head attached.” The words feel wrong in Arthur’s mouth, sharp and foreign and bitter. They feel twisted and cruel, and above all else, a lie. Arthur would never hurt Merlin. He’d never lay a hand on him with an intent to cause real damage.

   Merlin flinches back slightly, eyes dropping to the ground as they grow misty. That guilt rages back up in Arthur chest. A soft huff of a laugh escapes Merlin’s parted lips. It’s an unhappy sound. Full of pain, and sorrow, and hidden suffering. It claws it’s way into Arthur’s ears and sears at his brain. It’s a sound that Arthur wishes to hear from no one, least of all Merlin.

   “You think you have the moral high ground here, Arthur?” Merlin says quietly. There’s something dark lingering in Merlin’s tone, hiding behind and between his words. “You think you’re better than me because I lied to you? Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me?” He finally lifts his head, meeting Arthur’s gaze. Arthur narrows his eyes. Slowly, step by small step, Merlin advances towards him. “For years, I lived under your father’s rule, knowing that one small slip would mean my death. For years, I had to watch you follow his every order, hear his words of hate tumble out of your mouth too. I’d had hope that once you became king, things would change. That you’d create your own views on things regarding the kingdom, but in the one area I wanted you to change, you never did. I have stood by your side, defending you, keeping you alive, supporting you, even as you openly condemn the very thing that I am.”

   Arthur feels a little blindsided by Merlin’s words. “I never would have hurt you, Merlin. You could have trusted me. You could have shown me.” 

   “Your previous actions and your words don’t always coincide, Arthur. Do you sure any idea how many executions I’ve seen since coming to Camelot? Do you have any idea how watching those made me feel? Seeing you stand back and without ever raising a hand to stop it?” Merlin stops to take a deep, shaky breath. “Still, there were times that I almost did.” Merlin continues. “A few times where you stood up to your father about some poor soul charged with magical treason. A few times when you seemed to turn a blind eye to someone charged with using magic. But those times have been few enough that I couldn’t risk it. If I was dead, who would be there to help you? To keep you out of harms way?”

   “I’m not a child, Merlin!” Arthur snaps back angrily. “You speak of me like I need someone watching my back at every second of the day, like I need to hold someone’s hand or else I’ll get lost. I’m the King! I can very well look after myself!”

   Merlin’s eyes narrow. “I have saved your life more times that I can even remember. Everyone is out for your blood, Arthur. For your father’s crimes, for your crown, for misguided revenge. No King is safe, Arthur, and least of all you.”

   The King pinches the bridge of his nose, taking several deeps breaths in and out. This was getting them nowhere. The frustration building up is just getting stronger, more intense, and that coupled with the blunt pain that Merlin simply didn’t trust him, clearly only saw the worst of him, was making him feel sick. He wanted to resolve this, but he didn’t know how. His world felt like it had been upended, and roughly shaken. All the pieces were scattered about, some completely out of sight, and he needed time to gather them all back together. He needed time on his own, without Merlin standing there and making the pain and confusion that much worse. 

   “Were you ever going to tell me?” He asks, voice edged like a steel blade. Merlin clenches his jaw, eyes flicking away for a moment before coming back. That’s all the answer Arthur really needs. Taking a step back, he says, “You weren’t, were you? You were always just going to leave me in the dark. Continue lying to face every day. I— I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think we were close, that we were actually friends.”

   The other man seems to quietly seethe for a moment. “You’re wrong, Arthur. I was eventually going to tell you, when I felt that it was the right time, that you were ready to hear it.”

   “Shouldn’t I be the one to determine if I’m ready to hear something or not, Merlin?” Arthur interrupts.

   Silence passes between them, Merlin shaking his head, a twisted smile curling one side of his mouth. He slowly reaches up, brushes a hand back through his hair. He grabs the strands and tugs, closing his eyes briefly as he heaves a deep breath in and out. 

   “This back and forth is getting us nowhere, Arthur. It isn’t solving anything. We’re merely pointing fingers and trying to shift blame.” Merlin says slowly. Arthur huffs, agreeing, but also not. He wasn’t necessarily trying to shift the blame for the situation. He was merely grappling at a shiny smooth surface, and trying to figure out how to climb out.

   “You said you didn’t have a choice, earlier.” Arthur says, eyes on the floor between them. He slowly looks up to meet Arthur’s eyes. “But you did. You chose to not tell me. To not trust me. To only see the parts of me that you view as cruel, to see me as my father’s son alone. That wasn’t fair.”

   Merlin is silent and still for a moment. He stares back, face an unreadable mask. His fingers on his right hand twitch at his side, catching Arthur’s eyes. As he looks back up, Merlin’s mouth has thinned even more. His cheeks look a little flushed, possibly with anger. He blinks once, his gaze drifting away. Another tense moment passes before Merlin steps closer. He continues to advance, until he’s passed Arthur entirely, and pulling open the door to step outside. Arthur watches him go, not really sure what he’s doing. He stares at the door after Merlin has left, watches as the wood groans shut, watches as it glows gold. Arthur doesn’t know how he knows, but he suspects that Merlin has done something to the door so Arthur can’t follow him out.

   Sure enough, when he strides forward and pulls at the worn handle, the door doesn’t budge. The King steps back and stares. Merlin had left. He had simply walked out, without uttering a single word. The quiet around him seems to close in, and he can almost feel it mocking him. ‘Look what you’ve done now. The one person you truly trust, that you truly and wholly care for, is gone. You’ve finally pushed hard enough that even he can’t see past your flaws. You’ll be lucky if he even comes back. You know that you wouldn’t if you were him. You’d let yourself rot here for the rest of your unworthy life.’

   Arthur squeezes his eyes shut against the silent words somehow ringing through the air. The sing-song tone wraps around him, pulling tight. They continue to sweep around him, curling through his consciousness. He gasps a breath as he recognizes the voice. He could swear that it sounds like Morgana. He doesn’t want to believe her continuous chant of cruel words, but the longer they play through the air, the harder it becomes to brush them aside as fallacy. 

~~~

   Merlin fumes silently as he steps out into the thick fog, shivering slightly as the cold seeps through his clothes. He had felt bad for lying to Arthur for so long, and he had known deep down that once Arthur did find out, it probably wouldn’t so as smoothly as he had always hoped. Still, the man had frustrated him. King or not, Arthur didn’t have the right to place all the blame squarely on Merlin’s shoulders. Would Merlin have continued to lie to him if he had been given sure evidence that Arthur would accept him? Of course not.

   Trying to clear his mind, freeing it of all his negative emotions, Merlin continues to walk away. He has every intention to go back, to continue and hopefully finish their conversation, but he knows that both he and Arthur need a chance to calm down and collect their thoughts. Arguing wasn’t going to help them get anywhere, and as long as they were in the same room together, emotions would continue running high. The sheer number of emotions bubbling up and overflowing in Merlin’s chest was exhausting. He felt angry that Arthur wasn’t even appearing to try to see things his way. He felt guilty for keeping such a huge part of himself a secret from his friend. He felt hurt that the man he had considered his friend couldn’t seem to accept him now that he knew the truth. He felt heartbroken, because he dearly loved that same man, and he clearly could never love Merlin back.

   Merlin’s chest constricts painfully, cutting off his air supply for a brief moment. Pressing a hand to his chest, he slows his steps to a stop, and takes deep breaths. They’re shaky as they leave his lungs, and take way more effort than he’s used to. His magic prickles under his skin, buzzing in his fingertips, as it senses his distress. He feels like he’s on high alert, for more reasons than just one. The eerie sounds filtering through the thick forest don’t do anything but heighten his senses, adding almost more strain to his already overloaded mind than before. 

   Shaking his head, he turns back to face the small hut. It’s silhouette is barely visible through the fog now, but he can see it clearly with his magic. He can feel it, almost. Arthur is in there, probably still angry, probably still cursing his name and his very existence. What was he planning to do with Merlin now? Would he call for his execution? Simply banish him? Could he ever look at Merlin the same way again? With that borderline fondness and affection poorly hidden that always made Merlin’s skin crawl and pleasant shivers to run up and down his spine? 

   The warlock heaves an exhausted breath, and runs his hands back through his dark hair. How could he properly explain to Arthur that he meant no harm? He never had. Even as a child, when he had been learning to control his magic, he had never intentionally hurt anyone. Of course, accidents always happen, and even since coming to Camelot, he had made some mistakes. He had chosen the wrong path, and made the wrong decisions. But that was just a part of life, not only because he had magic. Hasn’t Arthur made mistakes too? Hasn’t the King made the wrong calls in situations, and suffered the consequences after? Neither of them had a high ground over the other. They were both just as guilty as each other. 

   Several long minutes pass as Merlin continues to stare at the small hut. It’s slowly becoming harder and harder to see as the white fog thickens, curling around everything in its path with a vengeance most unnatural. Merlin had never before experienced fog quite like this, but he had also never experienced a forest quite like this, either. A loud crash behind him makes him stiffen. Several weird roars and groans follow, and Merlin starts to make his way back to the hut. He can take care of himself, of that he is certain, mostly, but he’d much rather not put himself in the position where he has to defend himself. His nerves grow larger, more insistent, with every step he takes towards the hut.

   The hut is silent as he stops outside the door, and Merlin isn’t sure if that’s because Arthur is silent within, or because something magical is blocking any noise from filtering out through the small cracks in the exterior walls. Muttering a spell to undo the sealing spell he had cast on the door, he slowly opens the door and steps inside.

   “Arthur?” He calls, brow creasing into a frown when he doesn’t see or hear anything. “Arthur?” He calls again, louder this time. He steps fully into the interior room, the door falling shut behind him with a groaning thud. His eyes scan the area around him, trying to pinpoint where Arthur is through the gloom. The fog surrounding the windows certainly doesn’t help matters. 

   Somewhat against his better judgement, Merlin holds his palm out, muttering, “Leoht.” A white-blue orb of light appears, suspended in mid-air above his open hand, and illuminating the entirety of the hut. 

   When an initial sweep doesn’t show where Arthur is, Merlin takes a few more steps. As he’s passing what probably used to be a small table, now dilapidated and far beyond any reasonable use, he finds Arthur sitting on the floor, legs curled in close to his chest, and hands buried in his hair. Anxiety swells in Merlin’s chest as he crouches down in front of him.

   “Arthur?” He urges again, softly. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

   Blank blue eyes lift to meet his. Something vague sparks in them as he quietly says, “Merlin?”

   “Yeah.” Merlin replies, alarm bells ringing and reverberating around in his head. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

   Arthur shakes his head slightly for a moment, before screwing his nose up in confusion, and nodding. Merlin narrows his eyes in confusion. It’s not like it was a difficult question. The man had either heard Merlin calling out for him, or not. It couldn’t possibly be both.

   “You’re not making any sense, Arthur.” Merlin says when the man still doesn’t add anything. Arthur blinks, looking slightly more alive now.

   “You came back.” He says instead, only making Merlin more confused.

   “Of course I came back.” He replies heatedly. “I was only gone for maybe twenty minutes. That hardly constitutes as me leaving.”

   Confusion fills Arthur’s eyes. “Twenty minutes? Merlin, you’ve been gone for hours.” He slowly uncurls, his previously emotionless mask starting to slip, his usually so well guarded vulnerability starting to show through. “At first, I thought you had just stepped out to gather your thoughts. But then I kept waiting for you to come back, and you never did. I thought—”

   The King cuts off his sentence, eyes flicking away. Realization slowly dawns on Merlin, and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach. He should have suspected that a magical forest would have other magical properties, not just weird and grotesque creatures lurking about. Clearly, time inside the hut had passed differently than time outside. What had felt like only a hand of minutes to Merlin, had been much longer in here. 

   “You thought I wasn’t coming back.” Merlin chokes out, his lungs constricting as the words force themselves out. “You thought I abandoned you here.”

   “She told me that you had finally left for good, and I knew better than to trust her, but then I kept waiting and waiting, and the longer you were gone, the more her words made sense.” Arthur replies, eyes now firmly fixed on the dirt floor. 

   Merlin frowns in confusion. “Who are you talking about? There’s no one else here. The door was sealed, no one could get in.”

   A moment a silence passes between them before Arthur replies, “Morgana. It was she who told me that you were gone. Forever.”

   Merlin sits back, mind reeling. He should have guessed this whole thing was somehow spun from Morgana’s hands. He fights back a shiver at what could potentially be waiting out there for them, now that he knew who was behind it all. He glances at the walls around them, feeling his magic rush out and strengthen the protection spells he had cast upon the place when they had first stepped inside. Satisfied that they were at least safe for the moment, Merlin looks back at Arthur. 

   “Arthur, look at me.” Merlin urges softly. The blond reluctantly rips his gaze away from the floor, hesitantly meeting Merlin’s own blue eyes. “I’m right here. I don’t care what anyone tells you, I will always return. I will never leave you behind.”

   The words even hurt as they come out of Merlin’s mouth. Never did he think he’d ever have to reassure his friend in such a way. The pain that lances through his chest as Arthur continues to just stare back at him, eyes unsure, nearly makes him double over. He needed to find a better way to reassure Arthur that he wasn’t going to leave him. No matter what Arthur did, Merlin would never walk away. He’d never decide that he’d had enough, and simply leave. His resolve has nothing to do with destiny, and everything to do with the fact that he loves his king, fiercely, in every possible way. 

   “Why?” Arthur suddenly asks. When Merlin frowns in confusion, he elaborates, “Why would you never leave? After everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve suffered from not only my father’s hand, but mine too. Why stay? Why not go somewhere where you could be free?”

   Merlin inhales deeply. He has a few options here, but the most obvious one is tickling at his mind. The thing is, it’s tricky. Arthur has never shown any romantic inclinations towards anyone, really, unless you count the few short months that he had loosely harboured some feelings for Gwen. The pair had since decided they made better allies, friends, than anything resembling an actual couple. Since then, Arthur had remained closed off emotionally. Whether it was his conscious decision, or an after effect of the way he was raised, Merlin didn’t know. What he did know, or at least fear, was that Arthur’s reaction to Merlin’s reason for staying could range from mild to severe. He has no idea which way Arthur would go.

   “Merlin?” Arthur prompts, making Merlin realize that he has delved into his own thoughts for too long. He needed to answer, and he had to do so now, or he never would.

   “I’d never leave you, Arthur, because for me, it’s only you. It’s only ever been you, and it only ever will be.”

   Arthur’s brow furrows in confusion. “What are you trying to say?” 

   Merlin flicks his eyes over Arthur’s face. The deep sadness was finally gone from the blond’s eyes, now replaced with something more curious, but cautious. He breaths in deeply again, letting it out as he runs a hand back through his hair. Rocking backwards a bit, he puts some distance between them. If he was finally going to come clean to Arthur, spill his one last secret, he needed more room to do so.

   Finally, looking back at the King’s questioning eyes, he admits, “I mean that I love you. As my King, as my friend, as my everything. Every piece of me, belongs to you, Arthur.”

   Silence follows Merlin’s confession. A silence in which his heart nearly explodes in his chest. He feels nervous and jittery now. The urge to get up and move around is strong, but he forces himself to stay put. He forces himself to hold his breath, and meet his King’s eyes. Arthur’s eyes flick back and forth between his own, studying him intently. Merlin feels laid bare before him, every part of him now on display and awaiting judgement. Arthur blinks a few times, swallows thickly, opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it without uttering a word.

   Just as Merlin’s about to push back farther, to give in to his longing to get up and move away from the situation, a hesitant hand reaches out to brush softly over his cheekbone. Tentative fingertips trace his jaw, outline his lips. Those same fingers finally settle on his chin, and pull him slightly closer as Arthur leans forward. As their lips softly connect, Merlin gasps. The sound gets lost in Arthur’s mouth as he presses closer, hand on Merlin’s chin now sliding around to the back of his head instead. After another shocked moment, Merlin melts into the embrace, kissing his King back fervently. 

   Arthur slowly pulls away, keeping his eyes closed as he presses his forehead to Merlin’s. Merlin let’s put a shuddery breath before speaking, his words hanging in the limited amount of space between them. 

   “I’m going to get us out of here safe in the morning, and when we return to Camelot, I will tell you everything. Whatever you decide to do with me, I’m won’t fight it.” His voice comes out stronger than he had expected it to.

   “Merlin,” Arthur starts quietly, “I’m not angry about the magic, and I will not hurt you for it, or for anything else.” He pauses to swallow. “But I need you to promise me something.”

   The warlock snaps his eyes open, finding Arthur already looking back. “Whatever it is, I promise.”

   The King smiles slightly, one side of his mouth curling fondly before dipping back down seriously. “No more lies, from here on. From you, or from me. We’ll be honest with each other in all things.” 

   Merlin nods. “Of course, my King.”

   Arthur’s eyes slip shut again, a soft fight leaving his slightly parted lips. A shiver runs through Merlin’s entire body, and he presses closer to capture those lips in another kiss. Arthur kisses back readily, and Merlin loses himself in the feeling. His heart swells in his chest, though the ache of Arthur thinking he’d left him is still there. It’s still prickling at the corners of his mind. He’ll do everything in his power to eradicate those thoughts entirely from Arthur’s mind. Never again will Arthur Pendragon ever have to fear that Merlin has left him. 

   Merlin knew he would get them back to Camelot safely, and when he did, they would talk. They’d probably argue some more, emotions would run high, but in the end they’d come out stronger. In the end, nothing would ever be able to try and tear them apart again, because, in the end, there would be nothing left unsaid between them. Nothing left to use as ammunition. All that would be there, would be trust and strength and love. No one could ever take that away from them. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from disneyintrovet on Tumblr: Merlin and Arthur are about to go into battle (probs against Morgana rip) as equals, the moment has been building up as they’ve been planning for weeks on battle strats and how to utilize Merl’s magic, etc. but they have to split up, and as it all kicks off they share an "I know" and an in case we don't survive kiss? Would be cool if they then reunited at the end of the battle and just snogged each other senseless with relief that they’re both alive.

   Despite Arthur’s protests, it’s Merlin who attends to him the morning of the battle. It’s Merlin who does up the various buckles and straps of his armour. No words are exchanged between the two, however. Arthur seems withdrawn, distracted, and Merlin has no idea what to say anyway. He merely goes about his duties, flicking quick glances up at Arthur’s solemn and serious face, his heart hanging heavy in his chest at how familiar this routine is. How it could be the last time they ever experience it. 

   Merlin takes a step back as he finishes snugging up the last buckle. He looks Arthur over, visually double checking that everything is in place, and that his King is as safe as he can possibly be. Not that a battlefield is ever really safe. His heart lurches in his chest, lungs constricting as he thinks about what’s waiting for them outside of the tent. They had been planning this battle for weeks. Strategizing with the knights to create the best plans of attack, the best way to lure Morgana to Merlin, instead of to Arthur. The best way to keep Merlin’s magic hidden until the very last moment, so their enemy could be taken by surprise. Now, the moment had come. Nothing would be the same after today.

   “Merlin.” Arthur finally speaks. His voice is soft, quiet, so unlike the way he usually spoke. Merlin’s heart rate picks up. “There’s something I need to say to you.”

   Merlin immediately shakes his head, knowing what was coming. “Don’t, Arthur.” He pleads. “Please don’t say goodbye.”

   The King’s eyes grow sad. “This has to be done, Merlin.” He argues gently. Merlin blinks several times, ripping his gaze away so Arthur doesn’t see the glassiness blurring his vision. 

   “Why?” He asks.

   “Because,” Arthur says, and he sounds closer than he had previously been. Merlin still doesn’t look back. Not yet. “Because if anything should happen out there today, I need you to know what you mean to me. How much you’ve changed me for the better. How I couldn’t have possibly come this far without you.” When he pauses again, Merlin finally forces himself to look back at the King. Arthur is smiling at him, but the expression is tinged with sadness. “Merlin, I—”

   He seems to choke on the words, like they’re right there on the tip of his tongue, but they refuse to come out. Merlin doesn’t need to hear them, though. He already knows. He’s known for a while. Arthur’s eyes never lied. His fond smiles, and affectionate touches, and lingering looks spoke louder than any words ever could. 

   “I know.” Merlin replies. “I know. Me too.”

   The King takes in a shaky breath, nodding as he slowly lets it out. Merlin stays where he is, just a step away, and watches him. There was more that Arthur wanted to say, he knew that. He also knew that his friend was struggling to say it. Taking pity on him, he steps back into Arthur’s space, lifts a hand to run over his lower jaw. Arthur eyes settle on his before slipping lower, and Merlin’s blood sings in his veins. He and his King had been dancing around each other for years. What better time to finally cross those lines, to blur them beyond recognition, than right now?

   Mind made up, Merlin slowly leans closer, settling his parted lips over Arthur’s. Strong hands settle on his waist, fingers curling into his body as he’s pulled closer still. His own fingers press into the chainmail at Arthur’s back, desperately trying to hold on. His heart pounds in his chest, the back of his mind trying to warn him that this may be the first and last kiss he ever shares with the man he so hopelessly loves. He steadfastly ignores the words, instead letting himself fall apart in his King’s arms. His friend’s arms. His love’s arms.

   As they slowly separate, Merlin surges forward and wraps himself around the blond, pressing as close as he can. He can almost imagine that he feels the man’s steady and strong heartbeat, even through his armour. He presses the side of his head closer to Arthur’s, trying to memorize the feel of the man pressed close in his arms.

   “Promise me,” Merlin whispers fiercely, “that you’ll be okay. Promise me that you’ll return to me.”

   “Merlin—” Arthur starts, voice pained but resigned.

   Before he can get too far, Merlin interrupts with, “No, Arthur. Promise me.”

   Arthur sighs softly, a somehow sad sound, and replies, “You have my word, as long as I have yours.” 

   Merlin nods as best he can. “Of course. Always.”

   Reluctantly, they both pull away, settling an arms length away from each other. Arthur slides his palms down Merlin’s arms, settling their hands together, fingers laced at an awkward angle. Merlin blinks rapidly as he stares at their connected hands, taking a few futile breaths to steady himself before looking back up at the King. Arthur smiles sadly at him, and Merlin heart lurches in his chest. He may never see this man again, after today.

   “Go.” Merlin whispers. “Go be the King. Go lead your men to victory. Leave Morgana to me.” 

   Slowly, Arthur nods, squeezing Merlin’s hands firmly. Merlin squeezes back. As Arthur lets go of Merlin’s hands, he settles one on the man’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. 

   “Be careful, Merlin. You may be more powerful than my sister, but I still don’t want you getting hurt.” Arthur practically orders. Merlin smiles back crookedly. He knew very well that he wasn’t going to be walking out of this battle unscathed. Neither was Arthur. All he could hope for, was that they both walked out alive. That they both remained okay after their victory. That they both lived long and happy lives once this threat was gone. The warlock nods slightly, his eyes silently begging Arthur to be careful as well. The King nods back, just one small bob of his head, then they step apart fully, losing all physical contact. Merlin’s body yearns to reach out and touch the other man again.

   In silence, they turn and exit the tent, Arthur striding forward regally, looking every inch the king that he is. Merlin feels pride rise in his chest, mixing with the uncertainty and anxiety. He knew that if anyone could lead these men to victory today, it was Arthur. He was a born leader, a born warrior. Merlin only hoped that, that would be enough. 

   Merlin holds back, letting Arthur walk away from him. His eyes linger on Arthur’s form, the easy grace with which he moves, the calm confidence he seems to exude. As the King settles before his men, preparing some kind of speech, Merlin turns away. Part of him wants to stay, to hear Arthur’s voice for potentially the last time, but the other part, the part currently trying to rip himself apart from the inside out, is telling him to move. To leave. He listens to that part, briefly catching Arthur’s gaze before slipping past the rest of the men waiting to defend Camelot, defend their beloved king. His heart aches as he thinks about the number of them that won’t see tomorrow. That won’t see that very evening. His feet carry him over the hard ground before he can linger on those thoughts for too long. To face Morgana, he needed to be clear headed. He needed to be ready to fight for his life, no matter what that entailed. He would do everything he could to keep his oath to return to Arthur, just as he knew Arthur would do the same.

   As he walks, he takes deep breaths, reaching out for his magic. He pulls it up inside himself, feeling it surge to the surface. His fingertips feel like they’re sparking with energy, his blood buzzing just beneath the surface. He can feel the power coursing through his body, radiating out into the air around him. He focuses on that feeling, letting it grow and grow until his magic fills every one of his senses. 

   He’s vaguely aware of the sounds of the army behind him. The men roaring out “For the love of Camelot!” as they repeat their king. A shudder runs through Merlin’s body. It was time. He closes his eyes and takes another breath, inhaling deeply and focusing on the feeling of his lungs filling with air. 

   When he can breath in no more, he opens his eyes and calls out, “Morgana!”

   Nothing happens for a moment, but Merlin isn’t too worried. He knows that his former friend will show. She’ll be too curious not to. Sure enough, after another minute or so of silence, he hears a snap behind him, and a small, but harsh, laugh.

   “So,” he hears Morgana’s voice, “you have magic. After all this time, and you’re still following after my brother like a puppy? When he would see you dead if he knew the truth?”

   Merlin slowly turns to face the woman. She looks gaunt, and pale. Her hair is wild as it cascades down her back, her black robes catching the mild wind around them. He wishes desperately that he could have saved her. That he could have avoided all of this. But maybe she had always been past saving. Maybe nothing he could have done would have made any difference.

   “Morgana, you don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do this.” He all but begs. Morgana cocks her head to the side in interest, studying him intently.

   “Does Arthur know that you’re here? Or does he still think you’re off hiding somewhere like a coward?” Her voice is mocking. “You would’ve been better off staying out of the way. Once I claim my rightful place on the throne, we’ll all be free. As long as Arthur is king, you’ll always have to hide who you really are.” She spits the words out venomously, hatred dripping over Arthur’s name.

   Merlin slowly shakes his head. “You’re wrong. He’s a better man than his father, Morgana. He deserves a chance.”

   Morgana throws her head back and laughs, a grating, hateful sound. When she looks back, her eyes are flashing dangerously, her lips pulled back in a sneer to show her gritted teeth. Merlin clenches his jaw, fingers flexing by his sides. His magic swirls in his chest protectively, not liking the words being spoken out against his King.

   “What did you think you would accomplish by being here, Merlin?” She snaps. “You can’t possibly hope to defeat me!”

   “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Merlin counters sadly. “You may know me as Merlin, but the druids, they have a different name for me.” Morgana’s eyes flash with fear for a brief second. “I am Emrys, Morgana. I am destined to protect Arthur, to help him bring about a golden age for Albion. I am destined to be your end.”

   Morgana’s face morphs into one of ferocious rage, even as the fear lingers in her eyes. “Emrys.” She grits out harshly. “I’ve always known you to be a traitor to your kind, but now I know you’re even worse than that.” 

   Merlin hardens at her words, his magic prickling more insistently in his fingertips. He hadn’t let himself hope that he could talk Morgana off the ledge, and yet, the sting of her hatred and resolve is still there. Underneath all that, however, is pity. He feels sorry for her, that she was so consumed with revenge that she couldn’t see past her own anger. He knew her fears, he understood them. Yet he hadn’t let himself fall prey to them. He had hope for a brighter future, one with Arthur as the true Once and Future King. Morgana had no such hopes. She only saw destruction.

   “You’re wrong, Morgana.” He says, a sadness in his tone that makes the woman sneer at him. “It is not me who has betrayed my kind. It’s you. You seek to destroy only. You wish for death and blood and vengeance. That path only leads to darkness, and you’re dragging everyone around you down into that spiral with you.”

   “Enough!” Morgana roars, eyes blazing. “If you want to side with the enemy, then so be it. You shall fall right alongside your precious king!”

   “You’re not going to touch Arthur, Morgana. I won’t let you.” Merlin replies calmly, even as he tenses and prepares for a fight. 

   Morgana seethes, throwing out a hand as she yells, “Forbærne ácwele!” A large fireball forms in the air before suddenly hurtling through the air towards him. Merlin’s magic reacts instinctively, racing out around him as he lifts a hand, stopping the attack in midair. Morgana glares as the fire dissipates in the air before her eyes. 

   “Ablinn ðu, forlæte ðu nu!” Merlin counters. Morgana gets lifted off her feet and tossed through the air, landing hard on the unforgiving ground. She groans slightly, but rises to her feet quickly enough, angry and ready to retaliate. 

   “Forþ fleoge!” She cries, eyes flaring deep yellow. Merlin tries to dodge, to jump out of the way, but the spell still hits his shoulder, sending him flying backwards. He lands hard on his back, gasping for breath. “Gewseorc, hine beclyppe!”

   Merlin chokes, struggling to draw a breath as she tries to cut off his air. She twists her hand, and pain flares through Merlin’s chest. Unable to speak, he focuses on sending Morgana tumbling backwards, anything to get her to stop. His magic reacts accordingly, lashing out and shoving her backwards. Before she has a chance to regain her footing, it curls in around her again, tightening around her and squeezing. She yells in fury, struggling against the invisible bonds that Merlin has unintentionally created. However, she is strong enough that she manages to break the bonds after another few moments of intense struggling. 

   Morgana snarls, eyes full of hate, “Þurhdrif hie ecg!” The dagger concealed in her robes lifts into the air and shoots out towards him. Merlin sees it coming, but is still trying to properly catch his breath. He manages to get out of the way of a killing blow, but the blade still pierces his upper arm. He grunts at the impact, stumbling back a step. He doesn’t glance down at it, as he can already feel blood rising to the surface and leaking through the sleeve of his jacket. However, he does a quick calculation, and decides that keeping it there will hinder his movements more than the risk of potentially losing too much blood from the wound. Gripping the hilt, he pulls, baring his teeth as he feels the cold slide of steel. Dropping the dagger onto the ground beside him, he turns back to face his former friend. 

   “Why can’t you just die?” She screams in fury. Merlin narrows her eyes. The short dagger he has hidden in his boot almost seems to burn against his skin. He knew the only way to defeat Morgana was a blade forged in the dragon’s breath, but a sword would be much too obvious. Kilgharrah had agreeably made a dagger for Merlin, on the warlock’s word that he deal with Morgana once and for all. Now all he had to do was get close enough to use it. 

   “Forþ fleoge!” He yells. Morgana gets lifted off her feet, landing in a heap on the ground. She lays still for a moment, and Merlin darts forward, feet sure over the uneven ground. The woman starts to stir, slowly pushing herself up on shaky arms. As Merlin draws closer, she twists, rising to her feet as she turns to face him. The sunlight catches the new short blade in her hand. Merlin’s own fingers wrap around the hilt of his own dagger as he ducks down mid-step to grab it. He pulls it out as he straightens back up, just in time to dodge to the left as Morgana steps closer and swipes at his throat. 

   The pair step around each other in a sort of macabre dance, blades flashing in the intermittent sunshine. Merlin gets closer a few times, but Morgana always ends up twisting away at the last second. He grits his teeth in frustration. He needed to end this. He needed to keep Arthur safe. Once again, his magic reacts instinctually, reaching out towards Morgana and wrapping tightly around her legs, pulling down so her feet refuse to move. She howls in anger, and Merlin takes his opportunity.

   Leaping forward, he catches her right shoulder, preventing her from pulling away as he slides the dagger home under her ribcage, wrenching it up at the last minute so it pierces her heart. Her mouth falls open on a small gasp, her body stiffening momentarily. The next, she’s going limp, and Merlin’s magic is retracting from her, letting her start to fall backwards. Merlin steps closer, securing her enough that he can lower her to the ground gently. He kneels by her head, her rapidly blinking eyes looking up at him.

   “I’m so sorry, Morgana, for what happened to you.” He whispers. She swallows thickly. “I’m sorry that you felt the need to come to this, but I forgive you. For all of it.”

   Morgana’s breathing increases in pace, but it’s shallow. Merlin’s eyes mist over as he watches his former friend slowly leave this world. She swallows thickly again, opening her mouth. All that comes out is a gasping cough, and she screws up her face like shes frustrated with herself. Swallowing heavily, she tries again.

   “I’m sorry, Merlin.” She wheezes. A tear slips past Merlin’s defences. He had never wanted it to come to this. “My brother is lucky to have you.”

   The warlock can’t help but smile at the mention of his golden king, somewhere out there, fighting for his kingdom. A jolt of anxiety rushes through him as he thinks longer about how Arthur is doing. Is he still alive? 

   “He would’ve been lucky to have you too, old friend.” He replies solemnly. She gasps again, body going more limp than before. Her breaths are even shallower than previously, her eyes now fluttering. “Rest easy, Morgana.”

   Almost as if she was waiting for permission, Morgana stills. Her chest stops moving, her eyes flutter closed for the last time. Merlin’s throat seizes slightly, and he feels like he’s choking on the emotion building up pressure inside him. He hated this. The killing. As he leans back, he glances down at his hands, his right one stained with Morgana’s blood. Bile rises in his throat, and he swallows heavily against it. He wipes his palm on the sparse grass beside him, but it doesn’t help much. Gritting his teeth, he wipes his hand down his jacket instead. When he found Arthur again, he didn’t want to unnecessarily smear blood all over him. 

   Rising to his feet, he looks back down at the fallen High Priestess. She looked innocent in her rest. The lines across her face are smoothed out, the hatred no longer evident in every feature. She looked as she had been when Merlin had met her. Before she had become to misguided. He stares for a moment longer, remembering who she used to be, how kind she had been, how caring. At last, he nods once, then turns away. He needed to find Arthur. The battle still needed to be won.

~~~

   News of Morgana’s death spreads quickly, and before too long, the Saxons that had not fallen on Camelot Knights’ blades, either willingly surrendered, awaiting judgement, or fled. Merlin flits from tent to tent, eyes searching for a familiar flash of golden hair, only he doesn’t see one. Naturally, he checks the King’s tent first, but finds it unnervingly empty. When he checks the Physician’s tent, Arthur is also absent from there. Dread rising in his chest, he starts walking around the entire army’s camp, searching.

   “Leon, have you seen Arthur?” He asks the passing knight. Sir Leon looks at him sombrely, making Merlin feel nauseous. No.

   “I haven’t, Merlin.” The man shakes his head. “If I see him, I’ll be sure to let him know that you’re looking for him.”

   Not feeling appeased in the slightest, Merlin rushes away. Someone here had to have seen their King. Except, no one has. None of the knights closest to Merlin have seen him, each giving him a sad shake of their head, eyes brimming with their own concern and worry. If no one has seen Arthur, then the worst could possibly be true. Even as he tries to ready himself for that eventuality, Merlin can feel it ripping him apart from the inside out. Arthur can’t be gone.  

   Stumbling slightly, someone’s hand snaps out to catch him. He feels a thrill of hope in his chest, that falls flat as he follows the hand, and comes face to face with Sir Pellinore. The Knight’s face looks pinched, and he has blood splatters across one cheek. A wound on his upper left arm is bandaged, and he seems to be favouring his right leg a bit. 

   Merlin opens his mouth, ready to ask if he’s seen Arthur, but the knight beats him to it. “I haven’t seen him since, but the last I saw the King, he was going toe to toe with Mordred.”

   Fear seizes Merlin’s heart in his chest as he croaks, “Where?”

   Sir Pellinore points. “Near the base of that ridge there.”

   Merlin nods, already turning away. He breaks into a run as soon as his way is clear. His heart hammers in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. His lungs feel frozen, and he struggles to catch a proper full breath past the fear and dread climbing up his throat. He has to be okay. He has to be okay. Merlin knew when Mordred had left, that things were going to get more complicated. There was no way that Merlin could forget what he had seen that one fateful day, before Mordred had stepped back into their lives, the image of a now grown Mordred sliding a blade in between Arthur’s ribs. Merlin chokes on a pained sound as it slips past his lips.

   He skids around a rocky corner, nearly falling to his knees. When he regains his balance, he frantically looks around. This was roughly where Sir Pellinore had seen Arthur last. Desperate eyes search the surroundings, looking for anything familiar. Anything telling Merlin that Arthur had been here. Was still here. Slowly, he advances, limbs shaking slightly with each step he takes. He’s just about to give up, when he spots a flash of silver amongst the grey rock.

   “Arthur?” Merlin calls weakly. The figure shifts slightly, but doesn’t answer. Merlin continues onwards, cautious. That caution slips away entirely when the figure moves again, and blond hair gets lit up in a sudden ray of weak sunshine. “Arthur!”

   Merlin breaks into a run again, skidding to a stop when he’s close enough to make out Arthur’s profile. The man turns his head at the sound of Merlin’s approach, eyes more grey than blue blinking at him blearily. There’s an obvious cut on the King’s head, red blood mixing with blond hair and staining it rust coloured. A trickle has run down his forehead, and a dark bruise is already blooming across his lower jaw. Recognition flickers in the man’s eyes.

   “Merlin?” He asks, like he doesn’t quite believe what his own eyes are telling him. Merlin takes another few steps closer, slowly sinking down to his knees beside his King.

   “Yeah, Arthur, it’s me.” Merlin murmurs, lifting a tentative hand to brush over the angry looking bruise, his other hand moving to wipe the trail of blood from his brow. 

   “He—” Arthur starts, stopping to breath in shakily before continuing, “he told me that you were dead. That you and Morgana had ripped each other apart.”

   The warlock frowns in confusion, looking around to see who Arthur meant by he. He gets his answer in the form of Mordred, lying not far away, staring unblinkingly up at the grey clouds slowly winning out overhead. Arthur follows his gaze sombrely, looking at his former knight with pain in his eyes.

   “I didn’t want to, but he gave me no choice.” Arthur says quietly, mourning the loss of the man he had once considered a friend. Merlin feels a stab of regret as he looks over Mordred’s still form. He felt like he had failed him, just as he had failed Morgana. 

   “I know.” He replies, just as quietly. He turns his head to look back at Arthur, finding the King already looking his way. The blond lifts a gloved hand to brush over Merlin’s cheek, eyes following the movement. 

   “You’re not dead though.” Arthur says. “He lied.”

   Merlin nods gently, placing his hand over Arthur’s, stilling its movements and keeping it pinned gently to his cheek. “Yeah, he lied. I’m here. I’m okay. I had a promise to keep after all.”

   Arthur’s eyes flit over his face. “Are you hurt?”

   The warlock shakes his head. “Nothing I haven’t felt before. You?”

   The King struggles to shrug, wincing slightly. Clearly he is more banged up than Merlin is. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

   The matter-of-fact way he says it makes Merlin break out into slightly hysterical laughter. The emotions that had been brewing in his chest ever since that morning finally bubble over and spill out. Tears well up in his eyes, and the relief of having Arthur back in front of him is so strong that he falls forward into his body, curling his arms around the man tightly enough that his armour digs into his chest. He has little care for that, however, just buries his nose in Arthur’s neck, feels the rhythm of his pulse through his skin. He starts shivering as Arthur embraces him back. Arthur was warm and alive in his arms. Everything was okay.

   Pulling back, Merlin shifts just enough to align their mouths, kissing his King’s sweet and enticing lips. Arthur kisses him back, a desperation to it that was similar to that morning, but also wholly different. Merlin clings to him, opening his mouth and accepting the King’s tongue in to curl with his own. A shiver runs up and down his spine as a hand runs up into his hair, tangling with the strands and tugging gently. 

   When the need for air becomes too much, Merlin pulls back with a gasp, settling his forehead against Arthur’s, eyes closed as he pants for breath. Arthur’s own heavy breaths fan out across Merlin’s kiss swollen lips, and he shudders slightly against Arthur’s muscular frame. Solid arms settle around his shoulders, a thumb rubbing soothing circles against the skin on the back of his neck. 

   “We should get back to camp. Your men are probably eager to know that you’re alive.” Merlin murmurs. He doesn’t add that everyone was worried sick when he had left in search of the King, but he doesn’t really have to. The sheer panic that had been clear on his face when he had found Arthur surely told the King all he had to know.

   “Yeah.” Arthur breathes. Merlin blinks open his eyes, leaning back slightly to meet Arthur’s own gaze. Arthur looks over his face for a moment before continuing. “When we get back to Camelot, things are going to change. You said that we would bring about a golden age for Albion, and I intend to do that. With your help, of course, if you’ll stay by my side.”

   Merlin quirks a crooked grin. “What about the last day has made you think I would ever leave your side?”

   “No, that’s not what I meant.” Arthur counters gently. “I mean, I want you by my side. Where you belong. Where you’ve always belonged. I’ve just been too much of a coward to do anything about it.”

   Merlin’s breath hitches. He knew what Arthur meant, even if the man was struggling to actually say it. He nods slowly, watching as Arthur’s face relaxes. Some of the strain leaves his shoulders, and he nods back. 

   “Good.” The King says. He slowly pushes away, getting to his feet shakily. “Let’s get out of this godforsaken place.” He adds, glancing quickly in Mordred’s direction. Merlin shivers slightly as a cool wind picks up. Arthur steps closer, reaching out a hand to grasp Merlin’s firmly. A gentle tug is all it takes to get Merlin to start following him back to Camelot’s camp. As he gradually leaves that place behind, he starts to feel more at peace. Arthur was okay. They were both okay. There were struggles ahead, for both of them, but something in the back of his mind tells him that everything will turn out fine. A wave of contentment washes over him, and he gets the briefest flash of Kilgharrah smiling in his mind. As Arthur pulls him closer, Merlin can’t help but think of the dragon’s words all those years ago. Their paths truly did lie together. Now, in every way possible. 

Chapter Text

PROMPT from harmlessbuttercup on Tumblr: Canon era. Maybe series 1. Gwen flirts with Merlin but Merlin is oblivious™, Arthur is jealous. Maybe Morgwen, too.😳

   Arthur looks across the hall at Merlin and Gwen, and frowns. The woman, Morgana’s maid, is smiling up at Merlin shyly. The boy, who so recently tumbled unceremoniously into Arthur’s life, doesn’t seem to notice. Not really. He is grinning stupidly down at the table where’s he needlessly rearranging the dishes to look more pleasing. The girl says something, and Merlin laughs, louder than an servant should be, and Arthur winces slightly. He has half a mind to march over there and tell him to keep it down, lest his father throw him out, or worse, stick him in the dungeons. The king had been rather testy lately. 

   Before he can make a decision, Morgana appears beside him. “They seem quite friendly.” She says. Her tone is anything but conversational. Arthur hums slightly.

   “Yes, it appears the fool can make friends.” He replies, adding just enough softness to his tone for it to come out sarcastic and not too sharp. 

   Gwen smiles wider as Merlin says something to her, her eyes delighted, and his dimples appear in his cheeks. Something flares up inside Arthur’s chest at the sight. He knew what the sudden feeling was. He was jealous. Which is just absurd, because he didn’t get jealous. He rarely had cause to feel jealous. He was the Prince, the best fighter in Camelot, whatever he wanted, he got. Except, or course, what was occurring right in front of him.

   Arthur cocks his head to the side as he watches. ‘Perhaps I’ve noticed Gwen more than I thought. She’s been around for what feels like forever. She’s clearly grown into a lovely young woman.’ He thinks to himself as he watches the pair interact. For whatever reason, Gwen has chosen Merlin of all people to bestow with her affections. That ugly feeling rears up in his chest again, louder and more insistent. 

   “I hadn’t realized that they had gotten so close, so soon.” Morgana says, but there’s something unpleasant and almost territorial lacing her tone. Arthur looks at her, surprised. Was she jealous too? Of... Gwen? Did the King’s ward harbour feelings for Arthur’s new useless manservant? He very nearly snorts at the idea, the absurdity of it. His father would have Merlin’s head if Morgana ever showed the slightest bit of interest towards him, especially if he ever returned that interest. Arthur’s stomach churns at that particular thought, and he creases his brow in puzzlement. 

   “I suppose it makes sense.” Arthur says, even as his mind races. “The two of us have to attend so many Royal goings-on together. The two of them would have ample opportunity to get to know each other better.”

   Morgana turns a calculating gaze Arthur’s way, and he nearly squirms under the appraisal. “Does it not bother you?” 

   The Prince mulls over his answer for a moment. Did it bother him? Well, of course it did. Obviously. He just couldn’t really figure out why. He had never noticed Guinevere before, so why would she suddenly catch his attention now? Perhaps because someone else has captured hers?

   “Guinevere is perfectly well able to fancy anyone she likes. Why she would choose Merlin, of all people, is beyond me, but it’s not really my choice, is it?” He replies. The words feel all wrong leaving his mouth, but the annoyance at Gwen choosing Merlin specifically burns hot and heavy in his gut. 

   Morgana narrows her eyes in a glare. “Yes, she can.” The woman bites out. Arthur looks at her in surprise, ripping his gaze away from where Gwen is currently laying a hand on Merlin’s forearm and giggling at something he said. Most likely at Arthur’s expense. That thought doesn’t make him as angry as it ought to.

   “Yes?” He replies, confused as to her sudden anger. Morgana snakes a hand out, gripping Arthur’s wrist so hard that it’s almost painful.

   “You will stay away from Gwen, do you hear me?” She snarls. Arthur blinks back in shock. He had learned early on, when she first came to stay in the castle with them, that Morgana could be quite possessive over her things, or things she considered hers, even if they weren’t. Never before had he ever seen her like this over another person, however. He glances back at where Gwen and Merlin have parted ways, now slipping through the crowd of nobles, doing as they are bid until their masters require their services again. Arthur’s eyes stray to Merlin as the boy moves with surprising grace. He flicks his eyes to Gwen, but after a moment, the pull to look for Merlin becomes too strong again, and his gaze flickers back to his manservant. 

   “Why? Do you not trust me?” Arthur asks of Morgana, just to rile her up. His plan works, and she scowls at him, taking a threatening step closer.

   Leaning in, so as to whisper against his ear, she says, “Whether or not I trust you has nothing to do with it. You will keep your distance, she is mine.”

   Morgana’s words make Arthur reel back with shock. He merely blinks at her fiery eyes, again unsure as to what to say. Her choice of words, and the tone with which she had so vehemently spoken them, made her meaning quite clear. Arthur’s mind spins at a mile a minute, recalling all the potential suitors Uther had tried to flaunt past his ward as of late. Every one of them the woman had shot down. Now, Arthur knew why. It was not because she did not seek love, or crave love. It was simply the matter of it being the wrong kind. The Prince cocks his head in interest as he watches Morgana’s face. Her mask of possessive anger slips just a bit, allowing a sliver of uncertainty through. Clearly, her maid did not know of Morgana’s affections, and therefore was pursuing Merlin. Arthur feels a flare of sympathy for the woman. How could he, in good conscience, ever allow any feelings for Gwen to develop when it would hurt Morgana so?

   “You have nothing to fear, Morgana.” He replies. The words don’t make him feel as nauseous as he had thought they would. To so willingly allow his own feelings to be ignored and pushed aside. His eyes once again seek out Merlin, finding him closer to the outer walls now, clearly skiving off his duties. Something flickers slightly in his chest, and he frowns. Ignoring the feeling, he looks back at Morgana, who is staring quite obviously across the room at Gwen, who is pouring a goblet of wine for a nobleman. The man is completely ignoring her, even as she steps back once the cup is full. When Arthur looks back at his companion, Morgana is frowning. 

   “Hey,” he says, getting her attention, “I didn’t realize how you felt. Would you like me to talk to Merlin?”

   Morgana once again glances over at Gwen, and Arthur follows her gaze. The two friends have once again met up, and Gwen is wearing that shy smile again. She says something to him, leaning close to whisper it so only Merlin can hear it. Merlin grins, eyes flicking around the room. They settle on Arthur briefly, and then he nods. When he replies, smile cheeky, Gwen deflates just slightly. She still smiles, but it’s flat, compared to how it had been earlier. 

  Arthur hears a huff from beside him, and turns just in time to see Morgana walking away. Her stride is tense, stilted. He catches movement from the corner of his eye, and looks back to see Gwen pushing her jug into Merlin’s hands, and then hurrying away after the woman. Merlin watches her go, but not forlornly. His expression is more one of wishing a friend luck, not anything resembling losing the companionship of someone he held feelings for. Soon enough, the man looks back around the room, blue eyes fixing on Arthur himself. As the man smiles, the Prince feels that flutter in his chest again. It’s brief, very short lived, and the blond quickly pushes it aside as nothing. Instead, he gestures the boy over, fixing an expression of annoyance over his features. 

   “Yes, Sire?” Merlin asks as he gets closer. Arthur will always marvel at the boy’s ability to make his title sound like an insult. 

   “If you’re done ignoring your duties, Merlin, my cup has run dry.” He waves his goblet around, as if Merlin couldn’t figure out what he meant on his own. Merlin smiles at him, a different smile than the one he had given Gwen. He steadies Arthur’s hand, keeping the goblet still as he slowly pours in the sweet red wine from his jug. Their eyes meet as Arthur lifts his goblet to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. He’s sure he imagines the way Merlin’s eyes linger on his wine stained lips as he lowers the goblet back down. He definitely imagines the flare of heat in his gut at the thought.

~~~

   It’s two days later that Arthur again stumbles upon the pair, this time in the courtyard. Merlin appears to have been running an errand for Gaius, a bag slung over his shoulder with obvious greenery sticking out at odd angles. Gwen is standing beside him, chatting away, bucket of water held in front of her with both hands. As Arthur watches, Merlin says something, making Gwen laugh. Arthur frowns at that, the frown deepening as Gwen lets go of the bucket handle with one hand to rest her palm on Merlin’s forearm. When Merlin just grins back, apparently oblivious to the obvious flirty vibe of the gesture, Arthur decides to intervene.

   “Merlin!” He calls as he strides over. The two before him turn as one to look in his direction, and while Merlin’s face lights up with a smile, Gwen takes a hasty step back. Arthur narrows his eyes slightly, but something in his chest purrs at the movement, glad that the two now have more space between them. Arthur grits his teeth, annoyed that, despite him telling Morgana that he would respect her feelings, he still seemed irked over Merlin and Gwen getting closer. Or at least, irked about Gwen trying to get closer to Merlin. Merlin seemed rather oblivious to the whole thing. 

   “Yes, Sire?” Merlin replies, he quickly glances sideways at Gwen, frowning slightly when he spots the new distance between them. The Prince feels something curl in his chest slightly, but it soon smooths out when Merlin’s attention is once again on him.

   Gesturing to the bag on Merlin’s shoulder, Arthur replies, “Surely Gaius didn’t send you out here to talk. Bring him the herbs he requested, and then get back to your regular duties.” He sounds irritated, even to his own ears, and his tone makes Merlin tilt his head slightly as he studies his master. Arthur suddenly feels stripped bare, and takes a step back. “Now, Merlin!” He snaps.

   Merlin narrows his eyes for a moment, before nodding his head, and turning to Gwen. “I’ll see you ‘round.” He says conversationally. Gwen nods, eyes flicking between Merlin and Arthur with something akin to keen interest. Something shivers up and down Arthur’s spine, and he turns away from her calculating gaze. Something about it reminds him altogether too much of Morgana. 

   Merlin falls into step beside Arthur as the Prince starts to make his way back to the castle. As they walk, and therefore get farther away from Morgana’s maid, the more relaxed Arthur feels. The tension bleeds from his shoulders, and his steps feel lighter, springier. He chalks it up to averting a crisis with the King’s ward and his manservant, and simply lets himself enjoy the sound of Merlin chattering away about nothing. Something niggles at the back of Arthur’s mind, but he ignores it. Surely it isn’t important.

~~~

   Later that week, after a rather arduous training session with the knights, Arthur is making his way up to his rooms alone. Merlin had been called away to assist Gaius with something, and as his duties as the Physician’s assistant were more important that his duties to Arthur, the boy had left. Arthur is absolutely not sulking as he makes his way up to his chambers alone, wondering if Merlin will be there waiting for him or not. As he turns a corner, he hears Morgana’s voice, and a soft, almost tinkling laugh. Interest piqued, he peeks around the corner.

   At the end of the otherwise deserted hall, is Morgana and Gwen. While that isn’t a particularly interesting sight, the fact that they’re holding hands, and that Morgana is staring at Gwen like the other woman has hung the moon and the stars just for her, certainly is. His mouth drops openly slightly, and he expects to feel a pang of pain at the sight, given that he suddenly has developed feelings for Gwen (why else would he suddenly be so jealous whenever she was flirting with Merlin?), but he feels nothing. Nothing except something close to happiness for the woman he considered his sister. 

   He purses his lips, letting his brow crease into a frown, as he turns away. The two ladies were clearly sharing what they thought was a private moment, and Arthur could take another way to his chambers in order to give them at moment. Granted, it was longer, but perhaps the extra time it took would be enough for Merlin to return to his side. The sight of Morgana and her maid is stuck in his mind like a rather persistent leech, refusing to leave even as he pushes his chambers’ doors open.

   “There you are.” A sudden voice nearly makes him jump. “I was beginning to think you had gotten lost in your own castle.”

   Arthur looks over towards the hearth, spotting Merlin standing up from where he had been sweeping. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. I never get lost.”

   Merlin snorts. “I don’t believe that for a moment.” He smiles easily, moving forwards to start undoing buckles and straps. Arthur obediently holds an arm out, giving Merlin easier access to his armour.

   “Very funny.” He says, but he sounds distracted. He is distracted. How was he supposed to tell Merlin about Morgana and Gwen? His manservant hadn’t seemed overly interested in Gwen’s previous advances, as subtle as they were, but maybe where he came from, they didn’t court quite the same. Perhaps his obliviousness was his own weird way of showing his interest back. Arthur hated to be the one to break such news to the boy. He hated the thought of seeing Merlin upset. 

   “Is everything all right, Arthur?” Merlin asks, dropping his title, as he so often did when they were alone. It doesn’t irritate Arthur as much as he thought it would. As much as he thought it should. 

   “I saw Gwen today.” He says. Merlin quirks an eyebrow, fingers still fiddling. 

   “Yeah?” The boy replies, finally looking away to focus on what he is doing.

   Arthur nods. “Yes. She was with Morgana.”

   Merlin perks up at that. “Really?” He sounds decidedly interested now, and his fingers still their movements. Arthur gives him a moment to refocus, and when he doesn’t, he huffs in irritation and nudges Merlin with his elbow. He pretends to not see the eye roll sent his way, as Merlin’s fingers continue their fiddling.

   “Yes.” Arthur finally replies slowly. Why did Merlin sound so excited about this? Shouldn’t he be upset that the woman who had previously shown interest in him, no longer did? And why didn’t he, himself, feel more upset by the news?

   Merlin nods. “It’s about time, really.” He says, and it slips out so easily that Arthur actually takes a step away from him, twisting his half undone armour out of Merlin’s grasp, so he can gawk at him. Merlin frowns. “What?”

   “What?” Arthur repeats incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, jealous, or something?”

   “I don’t know.” Merlin replies, confusion written across his face. “Am I supposed to be?” He tilts his head, something shuttering closed in his eyes. “Are you?”

  Arthur gapes at him, opening and closing his mouth for a moment, before clenching his jaws closed firmly. He didn’t need to look like even more of an idiot. Merlin is staring back at him, eyes narrowed as he almost seems to peer directly into Arthur’s soul, his heart. The Prince’s heart starts to pound in his chest. He had felt jealous. He should feel jealous. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t now. Why develop feelings for someone, but have them be so fleeting? What had it been about Gwen that had captured, and then lost, his attention so quickly? Surely matters of the heart could not be so easily changed. 

   “You are jealous, aren’t you?” Merlin asks. His voice suddenly sounds loud in the room, and Arthur swallows thickly. He tenses as Merlin takes a step closer. “But are you jealous of Morgana, or someone else?” He continues another step closer. “Come to think of it, you have been even more pratty that normal lately, especially whenever me and Gwen are together.”

   Arthur bristles at his words, and he tries to convince himself that it’s the insult that annoys him. “Well, she’s been flirting with you.”

   Merlin looks momentarily surprised. “Has she?”

   “Yes!” Arthur says. He should feel surprised that his idiot of a manservant could actually be so unobservant, but he sadly isn’t.

   “And that bothers you?” Merlin asks. Arthur rolls his eyes. Did he really have to spell all this out for him?

   “What bothers me is the fact that had things progressed, I would need a new manservant, seeing as Morgana would have murdered my current one. Not that it would be much of a loss, seeing as he’s utterly hopeless at best.” Arthur retorts. He expects Merlin to scoff, or to shoot a jab back at him. What he doesn’t expect is for Merlin to grin at him. 

   “Were you jealous of me, for having Gwen’s attention, or were you jealous of Gwen, for supposedly having mine?” Merlin asks. Arthur takes a moment to fully interpret what Merlin had said, and when he does, he feels his entire body freeze. He had never thought of that before. It not being Merlin he was jealous of, but Gwen. He lets his mind run through the idea, and the more he thinks on it, the more sense it seems to make. Albeit a strange kind of sense. 

   “Well?” Merlin’s voice asks, from much closer than he had been before. The Prince forces his eyes up to meet his, blinking almost owlishly when he realizes they are nearly face to face, toe to toe. He swallows thickly, his eyes wandering from Merlin’s, against his own will. He watches Merlin’s lips quirk into a smile, and it’s different than the grins he gives Gwen. It’s softer. Fonder. It fills Arthur’s chest with something light, and his stomach squirms in a weirdly pleasant way. 

   In answer to Merlin’s question, Arthur lets his body sway closer, a shudder passing through him as their mouths connect. Merlin’s breath audibly hitches at the contact, moments before he melts into him, fingers coming up to grip the front of Arthur’s tunic as he leans closer. Arthur’s own hands stray to Merlin’s hips, gripping tight and subconsciously pulling him closer. Merlin happily goes wherever Arthur directs him, and they end up pressed chest to chest, Merlin’s hands slipping around the Prince’s neck, and curling into his hair. A surprised moan gets pulled from Arthur’s mouth as Merlin pulls just the right amount. 

   Much to Arthur’s dismay, Merlin pulls away breathlessly. “I think that answered my question.” 

   Arthur preens at how dazed and flushed Merlin now looks. The jealousy that had been building up in his chest is now curled up happily, purring deep inside him, where he knows it won’t bother him again. Not until Merlin catches someone else’s eye. A smile stretches across Merlin’s lips, and he ducks closer to press another quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Arthur’s mouth. The Prince just barely manages to withhold an irritated grumble as he pulls away again.

   “You’re a prat when you’re jealous. Or, even more of one, anyway.” He grins, that same goofy grin he always seems to be giving Gwen, but something sparkles in his eyes differently. “Lucky for you, I have a soft spot for blond prats who are surprisingly possessive.”

   Arthur frowns in confusion at his statement, then glances down to see his hands still held tightly to Merlin’s waist. He shrugs his shoulders, uncaring. Keeping his hands where they are, fingers practically branding themselves into Merlin’s skin through his clothes, he pulls him closer. Morgana and Gwen slide back to the forefront of his mind for a moment, and he feels a spark shoot though him. He could have what they had. He did have what they had, apparently. And when he became king, he would make sure that none of them would ever lose it. He seals that thought with another languid kiss to Merlin’s enticing lips, hands on Merlin’s hips grounding him as his chest and stomach flip madly.

Chapter Text

PROMPT from aeonthedimensionalgirl on Tumblr: Prince Merlin meets Prince Arthur in the peace talks between their kingdoms and fall in love.

   The whole city of Camelot was abuzz with energy. Excitement and nervousness alike mingled in the air, causing the citizens to flit about their day with an unusual haste to their steps. Children ran to and fro in the streets, their mothers uselessly calling after them. It was a big day for Camelot. For today, was the day that the entourage for King Balinor, his wife, Queen Hunith, and their son, Prince Merlin, would be arriving for the first ever peace talks between the Royal family of Camelot, and that of the magical community. While magic was allowed in the city, it was highly distrusted, thanks in part to the King himself, King Uther. The Queen, Ygraine, was much more welcoming of the art of magic, instilling that open-mindedness in their son, Prince Arthur.

   The Royal family is awaiting their guests’ imminent arrival outside the castle, gathered on the steps leading up to the large wooden doors. King Uther, naturally, is front and centre, standing proudly at his full height, shoulders back and chin up. His ornate crown catches the sunlight and glints regally. The fairer Queen Ygraine is standing to his left, much more subdued crown on her own long, blonde locks. The jewels inlaid in the gold still catch the sun, but they almost seem to halo her head in an array of colour, bringing even more life and joy to her face than usual. The Prince stands to Uther’s right, and a few paces back. His own silver circlet is settled among his blond locks, and he’s clearly trying to mimic his father’s stance, but his shoulders are slumped more, an air of resignation hanging about him. 

   “Arthur.” The Queen’s gentle voice floats over to her son, and he glances up, face set in a moody pout, despite his best efforts to change it.

   “Yes, Mother?” He replies. He gets a fond smile in return, and he can’t help the twitch of his own mouth in response.

   “Chin up, my son. You may have been tasked with accompanying our visiting Prince, but you may find that you actually make a friend.” Ygraine says. Arthur pulls a face slightly, causing the Queen to chuckle, as Uther turns back to look at his son. 

   “Arthur,” he says, making the Prince snap to attention, all traces of irritation flooding from his face, “I want you to take this seriously. Making a solid relationship with the Prince now could greatly benefit Camelot in the future, when you wear the crown in my stead. You are the Crown Prince of Camelot, and my heir, and I expect you to act like it.”

   Arthur nods stiffly, lifting his head up higher. He misses the soft look his mother gives him, the sympathy buried in her eyes that she only ever seems to give him. He keeps his eyes ahead, watching the entrance to the courtyard with rigid attention, hands clasped behind his back. His face is impassive, void of any emotion whatsoever. The Queen shakes her head sadly, and turns back to face the same way as her husband. 

   The sound of hooves clopping on stone catches all their attention, and Arthur feels curiosity well up in his chest, despite himself. What was this Prince Merlin like? Would they ever get along? Would he be the same arrogant royalty as Arthur had been faced with in the past? Those were always the hardest to entertain for days on end. Arthur found them entirely insufferable. 

   A group of various men and women enter the square. Arthur counts seven horses, four laden down with various bags and supplies, and the other three surprisingly riderless. The visiting King, Queen, and Prince are all walking on foot, reins in hand as they apparently lighten their mounts’ loads over the harsh cobblestones. King Balinor is obvious. He has a particular air about him, demanding attention and respect. He has shoulder length, dark hair, that’s greying just slightly, matching the well trimmed beard over his chin. He’s wearing fine clothes, but not overly flashy like most nobility and royalty tend to go with. His wife, Queen Hunith is similarly dressed, clothes of obvious quality, but not overtly expensive. She’s shorter than her husband, with long dark hair, and a friendly face. Merlin, however, is the one who captures Arthur’s attention. 

   Prince Merlin is tall and lean. His dark hair contrasts with his pale skin, giving him an almost ethereal glow. Sharp cheekbones and distinctive ears compliment his other features, giving an almost boyish look to him, despite being only a year or two younger than Arthur himself. He is dressed in plainer clothes. Still high quality fabrics, but much more normal design. Plain brown breeches cover his legs, down into very normal, buckled boots. A fine, navy blue tunic covers his chest, belt buckled around his waist, and a red neckerchief tied around his long throat. A thin rose gold circlet curls through his hair, twisting around in the shape of vines and leaves. Arthur nearly shudders at the thought of what his father would do to him if he ever dared to wear such plain clothing in public, and especially when visiting other kingdoms. 

   “King Balinor.” Uther says, voice loud and carrying. “It is a pleasure to welcome you, and your family, to Camelot.”

   Balinor inclines his head politely. “It is an honour to be here, Your Majesty. I hope the days to come will be nothing but beneficial for us both.”

   By then, Ygraine has approached Hunith, giving her a similar welcome. Arthur pulls his eyes away from his father, looking in Prince Merlin’s direction, and feels a flash of something in his chest when he catches the other man’s eyes already looking his way. The dark haired man smiles as Arthur looks his way, and Arthur can’t help but mirror the expression slightly. 

   Merlin steps forward as he says, “You must be Prince Arthur. I’m Merlin.” 

   Arthur doesn’t miss the way that the other Prince leaves off his own title, or the way he holds his hand out as if to shake Arthur’s. What a weird display for a member of royalty. Arthur muses over this fact as he settles his hand in the other man’s, giving it a firm shake. He ignores how his skin tingles and flares with heat where it’s touching Merlin’s. 

   “It’s an honour to meet you, Prince Merlin.” Arthur replies, making sure to use his courtly manners, or else suffer his father’s sharp tongue later. Merlin grins at him, boyish and carefree, and Arthur’s heart thuds in his chest. He lets go of Merlin’s hand, taking a half step back, so he can feel like he can actually breathe again. Merlin either doesn’t notice, or simply doesn’t comment. 

   Arthur’s attention gets drawn back to his father as the King of Camelot turns, proceeding to lead their guests into the castle itself. With one last glance in Merlin’s direction, Arthur turns and follows obediently. He feels a buzz in his veins as Merlin falls into step beside him. His hand itches to reach out and take Merlin’s again, an odd craving for the feel of Merlin’s skin against his own again. He feels heat flare in his cheeks at the thought, and aims his next step forward a little to the side, putting some more distance between them. 

   As they reach the doors to the throne room, Arthur feels a touch to his shoulder. Looking over, he sees his mother smiling fondly at him. He very nearly frowns in confusion, only just remembering to catch himself and smooth out his expression. They had guests after all. It would not do to show such unpleasant facial expressions.

   “Yes, Mother?” He asks softly. 

   Ygraine’s eyes almost seem to sparkle as she says, “Perhaps you would like to show our visiting Prince around the castle and the grounds a bit, just to get him acquainted and comfortable before the banquet tonight.”

   Arthur chews on his lower lip for a brief moment. Part of him was inexplicably dying to spend some more time with Merlin. Some alone time, even more. The other half was violently shying away from the myriad of intense feelings he’d just experienced in the span of a few short minutes in the other Prince’s company. When he looks back up into his mother’s eyes, his heart rate picks up again. He can see understanding, and something simply knowing, in her gaze. Like she was able to look into his mind, his soul, and read exactly what was in there.

   “All right. If he is interested, of course.” He replies, excitement and nervousness warring in his chest. Ygraine smiles.

   “Don’t worry, my dear son. I’m sure Prince Merlin will enjoy your company.” She pats his shoulder gently, then moves off to join her husband in the throne room. When Arthur turns to watch her go, he spots Merlin lingering in the doorway. The other man is looking inside, watching his parents interact with Arthur’s, with an almost uneasy air about him. Sucking in a deep breath of air, Arthur strides forward.

   “Perhaps you would like to see the castle while we wait for the feast tonight. Give you a chance to learn your way around before things really get started.” He offers, pleased at how steady his voice sounds. Merlin seems to relax slightly, a smile lighting his face back up.

   “I’d like that.” He replies, already moving to leave the doorway. Arthur glances over, catches his father’s gaze, and to his surprise, gets a nod of approval. Arthur sets his jaw, squaring his shoulders, as he turns away. If his father approved, then this must be important. If the King thought that Arthur should spend time with Merlin, show him around, forge some kind of allied relationship, then he would do his damned best to not let him down.

   The pair are quiet, for the most part, as Arthur leads Merlin through the castle. He points out the Council Chambers, the kitchens, the guest room where he will be staying, and (against his better judgement) his own chambers, on the other side of the castle from where Merlin will be staying. He’s decidedly red cheeked as he casually points out his rooms, not looking in Merlin’s direction. Merlin merely hums in acknowledgement, and Arthur isn’t sure if that makes him feel better, or worse. 

   When Merlin asks if he can see the kennels, where Arthur keeps his best hunting dogs, Arthur is helpless but to accept. He finds himself standing near the fence, watching with growing fond amusement as Merlin sits on the ground, quite unprincely, and pets and dotes on the animals, despite that fact that they were dogs that had a job, a purpose. They weren’t merely pets. Still, Arthur allows it, knowing that he, himself, had snuck down here on many occasions to cuddle his dogs when he felt the need for close companionship. 

   After the kennels comes the stables, where Merlin takes an equal amount of time acquainting himself with every animal in the stalls. Much to Arthur’s surprise, even his stallion Hengroen warms up to Merlin fairly quickly. Seems like even the animals could feel that something about Merlin. There was a definite pull towards him, not necessarily demanding attention, but demanding closeness. Something about his proximity made Arthur feel things he never had before. 

   Not wanting to part ways yet, now that they were together, Arthur offers, “Perhaps you would like to see the Lower Town? Your arrival has been quite exciting for the citizens of Camelot, and I’m sure the marketplace will be quite spectacular today.”

   Merlin breaks out into an enthusiastic grin. “I’d love to. Thank you.”

   Arthur feels a brief flutter in his chest, and he bites back the smile that wants to spread across his face. Instead, he merely nods and turns away, ready to lead his guest down further into the city. Merlin falls into step easily beside him, exuding such an air of relaxation and contentment, that Arthur feels himself subconsciously ease as well. 

   As expected, the marketplace is teeming with life, and colour, and smells. Vendors are out selling various fruits and baked goods. Others are selling rich fabrics and fancy jewellery. Still others are selling practical things, like bowls, and knives, and other necessary utensils for the normal day to day. Arthur glances at Merlin, only to see the other man looking around with wonder and awe on his face, and Arthur can’t help but wonder what his home is like. Do they not have a marketplace like this? Granted, it usually isn’t quite this fancy here. There’s not usually so many people lining the streets, so many children rushing about and laughing. It was quite the display, all thanks to the visiting prince at his side, and his family. 

   Merlin leads the pair of them from stall to stall, chatting with the vendors excitedly, and casually dropping gold coins into everyone’s palm. Arthur notes that he rarely walks away with anything, despite leaving coin behind, and marvels again at the wonder that this prince was. He was animated, charming, generous. He was the exact opposite of every other prince or nobleman that Arthur had ever met, and he feels himself quickly being drawn towards him. He was divided between wanting to give in to that feeling, and wanting to pull away stubbornly.

   A little girl shuffles forward timidly, hands clasped behind her back. Merlin spots her immediately, face creasing into a soft smile as he ducks down to be at her level. Arthur stands back, intrigued as to what the man had in mind. The girl whispers something, much too low for Arthur to catch, and the smile on Merlin’s face grows. He nods his head, leaning further down, and tucking his chin in closer to his chest. The little girl brings up her hands, a flower crown clutched in her tiny palms, and places it over the curving design of Merlin’s circlet. When he lifts his head again, he’s grinning widely. Arthur distinctly hears him thank the child, before bringing his hands up to his mouth. He mutters under his breath, and his eyes flash gold, momentarily taking Arthur’s breath away. When he leans back, opening his hands, a single blue butterfly flutters up, landing on the girl’s outstretched hand. She laughs in delight, face lighting up with joy and wonder, and then she leans closer and presses a shy kiss to Merlin’s cheek. Arthur’s heart squeezes in his chest as Merlin’s smile softens again, his eyes turning gentle. The girl trots off, butterfly still alighted on her finger.

   Rising to his feet, Merlin turns to looks at Arthur properly. The slowly dimming sunlight shines down just right, bathing the man in an ethereal glow. His hair is tinged with gold. The blue of the flowers highlighting his eyes. He looks happy. Content. Arthur’s breath catches in his lungs, and his heart once again stutters in his chest. 

   Swallowing thickly, he manages to say, “We should be heading back. My father will expect me to not be late to the feast tonight.”

   Merlin nods. “As will mine.”

   Arthur merely nods back mutely. Merlin approaches him, and once he’s by his side, Arthur turns and begins the walk back to the citadel. They walk in silence, both lost in the vastness of their own thoughts. Arthur’s are stubbornly set on the man beside him. On the way his eyes had flared the most pure gold that he had ever seen. On the look of joy and delight on that little girl’s face. On the fondness that had been written across all of Merlin’s features. His stomach flip flops in a way that it never has before. His heart rate spikes at the thought, at the entirely new feeling. There was simply something about Merlin. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

~~~

   Arthur spends the entirety of the feast watching Merlin, but trying not to. His father had given Merlin quite the look when the young prince had walked in still wearing his crown of woven flowers, but Balinor never said anything, so neither did Uther. However, the sight Merlin made was quite distracting for Arthur, and he continuously had to scold himself for staring so blatantly at their guest. He could only hope that no one else noticed.

   The feast is a joyful affair, and draws late into the night. Arthur is happy to be able to retire for the night. Sleep had been pulling insistently at his heavy eyelids for the better part of the past hour. As he stands, Merlin catches his eye. Arthur watches him lift his eyebrows, and something compels him to wait. Just for a moment longer. He is rewarded by Merlin excusing himself, and rising to his feet. He strides across the floor, Arthur turning to leave the vast room once he’s beside him.

   “Will you be in the meetings tomorrow?” Merlin asks, voice so casual that it’s almost like they’ll all be gathering together to talk of something inane, like the weather, or the upcoming tournaments, and not the most likely stressful business of solidifying the currently tenuous peace between their people. 

   “Not in the morning.” Arthur replies. “My father has graciously given me leave from our important business to continue training with the knights. I will hopefully be able to join you all after I’m finished out on the field.”

   Merlin hums thoughtfully, drawing Arthur’s attention to him fully. “Perhaps I’ll come out to join you. Something tells me that will be more fun than whatever is going to be happening between our kings. How much input will we be expected to share, anyway?”

  The Prince of Camelot studies his companion with interest. Merlin was certainly unlike anyone he had ever met. Even he, himself, was often drawn to council meetings and petitions with his father, out of duty or to please the king. Merlin seemed to have no such ideals. He was the oddest prince that Arthur had ever met. 

   “I’m sure we would all enjoy your company, should you be able to join us.” Arthur says politely, ignoring the way his stomach squirms at the thought of Merlin watching him training. A pleased feeling shoots trough him, settling in his chest, and taking root. Merlin shoots him a grin, making him smile back. 

   “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Prince Arthur.” Merlin says, bowing slightly. The sudden respect throws Arthur a bit, but his cheeks burn as Merlin rises back up, cheeky smile in place.

   “Yes.” Arthur replies, still inwardly battling back the odd feeling that wants to make a permanent home in his chest. “I hope you find your accommodations adequate.”

   “I’m sure I will, thank you.” Merlin replies. Arthur nods, small smile still stubbornly tugging at his lips. Merlin’s gaze lingers for a moment longer before he turns away (seemingly reluctantly), and slowly starts to make his way to the chambers that Arthur had shown him earlier. Arthur stands there, watching him for for a minute before forcing himself to turn away, and walk the other way. He distinctly feels Merlin’s gaze suddenly burning into his back. A warmth suffuses him, and he gets a flash of a memory of golden eyes in his mind. The liquid pools of gold still manage to take his breath away. Excitement rises in his chest, along with trepidation.

~~~

   The next day dawns clear and with the hint of heat to come later. Arthur groggily gets up, his servant pulling out clothes for him, hanging them over his dressing screen, before setting out breakfast. The Prince’s feet feel like lead as he crosses the stone floor to his changing screen, stepping behind and slowly pulling his nightclothes off. As he’s pulling his new clothes on, he hears a knock at the door.

   His brow creased with confusion, he finishes pacing up his trousers, then steps out as he says, “Enter!”

   Moments later, the door swings open, revealing none other than Prince Merlin. Arthur’s heart immediately picks up in his chest as takes in the other man. He’s still dressed more simply than most nobility, and certainly than most royalty. Over his chest, and down both arms, is leather armour, and the sight makes Arthur’s mouth run dry.

   “Prince Merlin,” Arthur says, voice a little strained, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

   Merlin shrugs. “I thought we could have breakfast together before heading down to the training field.” Arthur nearly swallows his tongue.

   Nodding, he manages to get out, “Sure.” He waves a hand, inviting Merlin in farther. Nodding at his servant, Morris, he silently asks for another try to be brought up. The man nods back, and silently rushes from the room. When Arthur turns back to Merlin, he finds the man walking around his room, interested eyes keenly taking everything in. Arthur’s fingers start to nervously play with the hem of his tunic. 

   “So, did you sleep well?” He asks, simply for something to say.

   “I did, thanks.” Merlin replies. He shoots Arthur a brief look, playful trouble in his eyes. “Could’ve been better, though.”

   “Oh.” Is all Arthur can think of to say. He had never stayed in the guest chambers before. He had no idea as to what comforts they provided. Or what comforts Merlin was usually used to. Was his home even more lavish than Camelot?

   Merlin waves him off with a dismissive hand gesture. “Everything was fine, Arthur, I assure you. Nothing to worry about.” 

   The comment takes Arthur aback a little. Was he suddenly that easy to read? He’d had years and years of practice masking his emotions. His father didn’t believe in showing the outside world your true feelings and weaknesses, as they would just be exploited. Something his mother was often telling him was nothing but folly. Showing heart showed caring, and the people valued that. Still, his father’s disapproving glances when he dared let something slip were enough to keep Arthur locked up tight. How was it that Merlin could read him so easily?

   “Right.” He replies, bringing a hand up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. He’s saved by Morris, the servant coming in quietly and placing another try on the table, across from where Arthur usually sits. Arthur nods his thanks, and the servant nods back, immediately turning to duck out. Usually he could stay and clean whilst Arthur ate breakfast, especially when he had training so soon after. Now, though, Arthur is glad he’s left. The less witnesses there are to his strange, new feelings, which are apparently readily on display for Merlin, the better. Morris would be back in plenty of time to help him into his armour, he had no doubts.

   They both eat mostly in silence, Arthur chancing quick glances up at the man across from him. Merlin looks every bit as beautiful and ethereal inside as he did outside with the setting sun backlighting him. He desperately swallows back the words trying to claw their way up his throat, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth to further choke off the verbal vomit. Merlin glances at him too, Arthur can feel the burning of his gaze every time those blue eyes lift to settle on him. He doesn’t look back, no matter how badly his heart is begging him to. He keeps his own eyes stuck stubbornly on his plate, or his goblet, until the burning sensation goes away, and he can breathe again. Only then does he flick his eyes upwards, taking in Merlin’s soft smile, the way his dark hair falls over his forehead slightly. The way his leather armour moves with each breath he takes. His own breath catches in his throat again.

   “Sire.” Morris says softly, startling Arthur out of his reverie. He feels his face flush slightly as he looks over expectantly. His armour is waiting for him, shining in the early morning rays of sunshine filtering in through the window. He shoots Merlin a quick apologetic smile, then rises to his feet, and goes to meet his servant. Morris makes quick work of Arthur’s armour, sliding the chainmail over his head and arms, then buckling everything in place. All the while, Merlin keenly watches. His steady gaze makes Arthur flush, and he has to fight to keep his hands still. Instead, his foot fidgets in place. 

   Once ready, Arthur gives Merlin a nod, and they leave his chambers together. As they go, Arthur again looks Merlin over discreetly, taking in the leather armour strapped in place. Only now does it strike him as odd. 

   “Were you planning on joining us for training?” He asks. Merlin grins at him, easy and carefree. Arthur can’t remember ever having a time when he looked as such. The weight of his future duties to Camelot had always been too strong for such ease in day to day life.

   “Perhaps, if you approve. Although, my skills do not lie with the sword.” Merlin replies, a definite cheekiness lingering in his tone. Arthur feels a smile of his own tugging at his lips, and he again marvels at how easily Merlin manipulates his moods for the better. 

   “Perhaps at the end you can try your luck against the best fighter in Camelot. There’s not many who can beat me, no matter what weapon they wield.” Arthur can’t help but brag a little bit, some small part of his brain wanting to impress the visiting prince walking next to him. To his delight, Merlins eyes sparkle merrily.

   With a shrug, Merlin says, “I’ve heard many stories of your prowess in the arena and on the battlefield. However, I doubt you’ve faced many magical foe before.”

  In truth, Arthur hadn’t. Not really. And certainly not directly, one on one. He wasn’t one to back down from a challenge though, and a deep rooted stubbornness and need to prove himself rears up in his chest at Merlin’s words.

   It’s this feeling that makes Arthur turn to Merlin as they push out through the door, “Perhaps not, but I still like my chances.” He grins toothily as Merlin laughs openly. The sun again alights on his hair, bathing the tips of each strand in gold. Arthur rips his gaze away, willing his chest to settle again. He clears his throat, and begins to make his way down the steps and across the courtyard. He’s keenly aware of Merlin’s presence by his side, but he steadfastly ignores the way it makes his blood sing in his veins. No one had ever effected him like this by sheer proximity before, and it scares him a little. To become so attached to someone so quickly. It was the exact definition of weakness in his father’s eyes, despite the king’s devotion to his wife.

   The knights are all assembled on the field, awaiting their prince, when Arthur and Merlin arrive. There’s a few raised eyebrows at the appearance of their royal visitor, but no one says anything. They simply move into line at Arthur’s request, proceeding to work through the drills he assigns them. Sir Leon steps forward, as usual, engaging Arthur in their own drills. Arthur focuses on his footwork, on the movement of the familiar blade in his hand. He keeps his attention on anything but the man currently watching his every move. If he stopped to think too long on who was in his current audience, he feared he’d make a wrong move, and mess up spectacularly.

   He only lets himself look over at Merlin as their training comes to an end. He’s tired, and a little achey (he may have pushed himself a little too hard today, but that had absolutely nothing to do with Merlin watching), but he had told Merlin that if he wanted a go, he would be more than willing to face him. Merlin is already striding over casually, soft smile on his face. 

   “Well, I can safely say that the stories live up to the real thing.” The prince says, a hint of warmth in his eyes. Arthur’s lungs squeeze at the sight, and at the praise. 

   “Still want to test your skills, then?” He asks, proud of the way his voice doesn’t shake at all. He sounds pompous, cheeky, and Merlin grins in return.

   “Of course, your highness.” He says, sarcasm dripping off the title. The sound makes Arthur’s insides squirm, and he isn’t sure that the feeling is entirely unpleasant. Certainly not as much as it should be. 

   He nods in response, lifting his sword and twirling it in a couple circles, warming his arm up slightly. Merlin’s grin grows as he takes a few steps back. Arthur adjusts his grip on the hilt, settling down into a ready stance, holding his shield up perfectly. Merlin catches his gaze, lifting an eyebrow, and he nods once. Merlin nods back, and then suddenly, his eyes are flashing molten gold, and Arthur only has a chance to again take in how beautiful they look before he’s lifted off his feet and deposited on the grass behind him. He rolls to his feet quickly, spinning to face Merlin again. The man’s eyes flare gold again, and Arthur dives to the side, landing and rolling back gracefully to his feet. 

   Their battle carries on, Arthur alternating between getting knocked off his feet and successfully dodging fireballs. He can tell that Merlin isn’t actually trying to hurt him, and he is both thankful and offended by that. On one hand, he’d rather not die, but on the other, he didn’t want the other prince to think he had to take it easy on him. After narrowly dodging another spell meant to fling him back, he gets close enough to swing his leg out, swiping Merlin’s out from under him, and sending him crashing to the ground. 

   He takes his chance to point the tip of his sword at Merlin’s throat, but the man’s eye flare gold again, and his sword is ripped from his hands. His momentary shock leaves him open enough for Merlin to kick out, landing his feet solidly in Arthur’s stomach, and sending him stumbling backwards with an ‘oomph’. Merlin leaps to his feet, spinning back around to face his opponent. Arthur grits his teeth and charges in, ducking right, then leaping left. He tosses his shield to the side as he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist, and sending them both crashing to the ground. They struggle for a moment, both trying to gain the upper hand. In the end, Arthur ends up straddling Merlin’s thighs, managing to catch both of Merlin’s wrists in one hand and pinning them above his head, as his other hand snakes down to pull the dagger from his waist. He holds it loosely against Merlin’s exposed throat, and the other man goes limp beneath him. 

   Arthur stares down at Merlin below him, flushed and panting. Merlin’s own chest is heaving with exertion as he stares back up. Slowly, a grin cracks across Merlin’s face, lighting up his eyes as a chuckle bubbles up in his throat. Arthur immediately smiles back, feeling more carefree than he ever has. A lightness fills his chest, the likeness of which he has never felt before. He’s only vaguely aware of the applause ringing out from their gathered audience.

   It’s with great reluctance that he backs off, scrambling off the man’s body and getting to his feet. Holding out a hand, he pulls Merlin to his feet. Merlin lets his hand linger for longer than is strictly necessary before slowly pulling away. Arthur immediately mourns the loss.

   “So, did I still live up to the stories?” He asks once he’s caught his breath properly again.

   Merlin had an interesting look in his eye as he replies, “Oh, yes. You certainly did.”

   Arthur preens at the praise. Unintentionally, of course. The knights slowly leave the field, now that their entertainment is finished for the day. Arthur looks around, the weight of the world crashing back down on his shoulders. It was back to reality again. He had meetings to attend this afternoon, as soon as he was cleaned up from training. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but if he was to be king someday, he had to get used to the monotony now. Although, if Merlin would be there too, maybe the monotony would be interrupted. The other prince seemed to have a knack for spicing things up. 

   “I’ll see you later?” Merlin asks, pulling Arthur from his thoughts. Arthur nods his head, forcing his eyes to stay on Merlin’s face, and not wandering over his leather armour clad body.