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Chapter Text

Arthur had taken to waking up early in the mornings.

When he had been a young prince, blinded in foolish youth, waking up had seemed like the worst thing in the world, second only to watching one of his father’s executions.

But, since then, everything had changed. And that everything came in the form of an excited morning shout: Rise and Shine! The same words had rung in Arthur’s mind in the mornings for years. Ricocheting and spitting like a blade fresh out of the forges flame, when he had drunk too much wine the night before. Waking him up like an angry beast in his bedroom when it had taken him too long to sleep during the night and would still inevitably be drowsy all the way through breakfast.

But only now did he wake up earlier. Anticipating, staring as the sun slid through the curtains and filled the room with warm, brilliant light. For that voice.

His voice.

Perhaps, if not for his, admittedly, weak imagination, he wouldn’t have so looked forward to it. But from the second his mind wondered to the possibility of hearing it whispered into his ear, by that deep, morning voice he had only heard on the occasional trip out to the woods, by the man lying next to him in bed…he had become transfixed by their little routine, in their life of chaos.

And, so, he waited.

And waited.

It was not abnormal for Merlin to be late. When Arthur had been a younger man still, it had royally irritated him. But he knew better now.

Merlin was more than just useless at timekeeping, even if, Arthur was quite sure, he was still abysmal at it. Another magical creature? A sorcerer? An assassin?

Arthur didn’t want to think about it, the creature of anxiety already rearing up in his chest and strangling his insides. He knew he should, he should at least think about it, even if nothing in the world could bring him to voice his worries out loud.

But the monster only seemed to grow, and so he didn’t. He never did.

So, when the door opened quietly behind him, and footsteps padded across the floor, he tensed all of his muscles in preparation, ready to dart for his sword. Merlin never normally allowed people to get that close.

And so, he shut his eyes, despite every possible instinct screaming for him to do otherwise.

He waited for whatever it was to approach the bed, hoping he wasn’t about to get enchanted with something horrifically embarrassing, or deadly. Merlin, he was sure, would not be pleased with either outcome of that situation.

The curtains flew open, and Arthur relaxed completely into the sheets.

“Merlin?” Arthur blinked his eyes open feeling oddly dazed, only aware of the name leaving his lips after he had spoken it.

“Good Morning! A kingdom never waits for a lazy king.” Merlin’s voice was deep that morning, as if he himself had just woken up. Embarrasingly enough, it made Arthur’s bones shiver inside of him.

Merlin was on the other side of the room already, peeling through Arthur’s wardrobe, and throwing a few of Arthur’s more colourful tunics on the floor. To brighten the room up, Merlin normally said. But he didn’t, not that morning.

Perhaps it seemed silly, but without their little routine in the mornings, Arthur could only lie still feeling slightly stunned, even as Merlin had already selected his clothes for that day.

Seeming to notice the obvious fact that Arthur hadn’t moved more than his eyes in the last few moments, Merlin darted over to the bed and grabbed the covering’s in both hands and threw them onto the floor. Arthur tried to thumb up some form of protest as the cold morning air unpleasantly shocked his skin, but only managed an odd, garbled sound, before he himself was also on the floor with an almighty crash.

He should have known better than to play their game holding onto the bedsheets.

But the fact remained that was more like the Merlin he knew, and Arthur could only feel some relief at them being on track for normalcy again.

“Tunic and trousers hung over the screen. I’ll be back with breakfast.”

But that wasn’t normal.

Arthur tried his best not to care, as Merlin near sprinted out of the room, ignoring Arthur’s leaving cry.

Arthur sighed, pushing himself up on his hands. That was one of the other things that had changed more recently, Merlin not dressing him in the morning’s anymore. Merlin now always had something else to get, that he had forgotten, something else to do.

He shook his head. He was being stupid, a real prat like Merlin would say. Of course, his betrothed wasn’t dressing him in the morning’s anymore. He couldn’t even imagine how inappropriate that would have been for another pair, no matter how much the small part of his mind protested that him and Merlin should have been above that.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little bitter at the lack of attention from his lover. He knew it was partially his fault. He still hadn’t announced their engagement to the court, let alone arranged a date for the wedding, or changed Merlin’s position.

Merlin was still a servant. Still Arthur’s servant. Merlin probably just didn’t want to chance anything. It was Arthur’s fault, really.

He thought about all of it, rolling the thoughts round and round in his head as he dressed himself for the day. He would sort it. Sooner rather than later. Perhaps even in the council meeting that morning?

He had learned to dress himself recently, hoping Merlin would rectify the situation himself when the job done was inevitably self-par. Running his thin fingers down Arthur’s tunic until it straightened out, or, on very special days, through his hair to ‘tame’ it, as Merlin liked to put it.

Arthur would be lying if he said he had never deliberately lost his comb for that purpose alone.

Hopelessly, and fully dressed, he threw himself back onto the bed, arranging his legs in a way he hoped looked more sarcastic instead of hopeless. There was also the issue of the fact that, despite being engaged, Arthur had never really taken the time to court Merlin. He seemed to remember his father saying, one night, when Arthur was very young, young enough to be safely forgotten, and when he was very drunk, that the worst thing he had ever done was to stop courting his mother, even just for a few weeks when he had been on a royal visit.

And Arthur hadn’t even really started with Merlin. He could arrange a nice day for them both, a picnic perhaps, away from the watchful eyes of the nobles, where he and Merlin could be in love in peace. He could almost guarantee Merlin would be a right dollophead about it, complaining about the weather, the food, the horses, and anything and everything he could think of, only to give Arthur that small smile of his, and cuddle into his side. The perfect day for both of them.

It was those thoughts that filled his mind when Merlin returned, carrying a tray filled with far more food than Arthur ever remembered receiving.

“Welcome back Merlin,” Arthur tried, pulling as much sarcasm into his tone as he could. Am I welcomed, sire?, he could almost hear Merlin’s comeback. It never came.

Instead, the breakfast tray was plopped, rather unceremoniously, next to Arthur’s bed.

“Finally decided to increase my diet, Merlin?” Arthur said, staring in genuine amazement, at the most food Merlin had ever bought him. Almost as if Merlin was yet to take his portion. Was it a sign? Was Merlin trying to tell him something?

Maybe he wanted to start taking breakfast together, that would be a very appropriate thing for them to do before marriage.

But there was only one plate on the tray, and Merlin spoke, crushing all his wistful thoughts into almost nothing.

“Why, yes, of course,” Merlin said in his most sarcastic tone. “Even dollopheads deserve treat days.”

“Not hungry?” Arthur tried, not quite willing to let the idea of breakfast together go. He grabbed one of the sausages in his hand, and bit into it. Hopefully that would entice the other man to grab something of his own. Seeing Merlin make no move, Arthur tried again. “There are far more sausages on this plate, and nearly a full block of cheese! What an absolute wonder.”

“Well, I’m glad you appreciated it,” Merlin said succinctly, and Arthur gave a silent sigh, as the dream of breakfast together died a bitter death in his mind. Another day, perhaps. Maybe Merlin just wasn’t in a good mood, he had been far more stressed as of recent. It really was nothing to worry about.

“My armour needs doing,” Arthur began casually, “As does my boots and saddles. Sword as well. And mend that broken cape.”

Merlin looked at him dazed for a moment, before walking out, muttering something about Gwaine. It was loud enough that Arthur doubted Merlin knew he was speaking. Muttering aloud when he was stressed was something Merlin always did, and Arthur secretly loved. (Although, as he would only privately admit to himself, he would often prefer for Merlin to do it away from certain members of the court.)

Arthur threw his head back again, reaching for another sausage.

It needed to be that day. That moment, really, if Arthur was honest with himself.

He should have asked Merlin to come with him to the meeting, to argue the case for their love, and to lay down the law that they would be getting married, no matter what the council had to say about it. He wanted Merlin there, next to him, ready to give Arthur a snarky grin to distract him from the ongoing argument in front. His mind whispered that Merlin was the bravest man he had ever met, and that he should be able to take some arguments with ease. But he knew that was stupid. Arthur was the King. He could handle his own nobles.

But, more than that, Merlin didn’t need to hear the true level of objection the court would inevitably have towards their engagement. As powerful as a sorcerer that he was, Merlin, when faced with true disapproval, managed to school himself into something remarkably resembling an abandoned puppy.

He steeled himself.

Arthur would not be leaving without a wedding date, and a signed acceptance of Merlin’s raise in status, to at least a free-man of Camelot, pending to become a noble at the earliest possible chance.

He couldn’t accept anything less. Merlin deserved nothing less.

Maybe, he thought after a moment, he should bring someone with him after all. Guinevere was his first thought, but perhaps that would be another step too far from appropriate for the Lord’s. A servant girl who had once had an, albeit short lived, romance with the King? A recipe for disaster in his situation. Gaius, perhaps? But Arthur doubted that as well. Despite being loyal to Camelot for years, and close to his father, they would say he was biased towards Merlin, possibly even trying to manipulate his own way into a higher station, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

Leon it was then.

Arthur dragged his way down the corridor, realising only part of the way there that he had completely forgotten to put on his boots.

It was going to be a long, long, Merlin-less day.

***

As expected, the meeting was nothing more than pure and utter chaos.

Expecting as such, Arthur had re-arranged the seating on the table, so that knights were on either side of him, no other noble within three chairs of his own. Just in case on of them heard the news and decided that the best way to get them all out of the scenario was immediate attempted regicide.

Merlin would be so mad at him if he got killed during a council meeting, by a noble gone mad with news of their happy reunion. Besides, it was clear that the last thing Merlin currently needed was more stress under his belt, especially after being forced to keep his hands to himself, despite knowing of the love they shared.

Arthur could empathise. Completely. Once he knew for sure Merlin felt the same way, keeping his hands away, keeping everything hidden from the outside world had been the hardest internal battle he had ever had to fight. And he had years and years of court training to aid him.

“Silence yourself, my Lord! You should wait for the King’s further statements on the matter!” He vaguely heard Leon shout from besides him. Briefly shocked out of his own, incredibly distracting, internal thoughts.

Of course, there had been that very confusing time Merlin had tried to return the sigil, Arthur having opened the cupboard next to his bed and finding it there, behind his pot of muscle poltjuice. Arthur, assuming Merlin had almost been caught and had to quickly hide the thing, had it sent back with a guard who he trusted (Sir Leon’s squire, in fact) to watch over Merlin’s room until he could receive his sigil back.

Arthur had placed it on the bedside table himself, stroking the cold metal once with his fingers. He had only been able to smile to himself, stroking the silver. It must have been old silver, passed down through his mother’s line for generations, as it no longer reflected as silver usually did.

But he couldn’t even think of replacing it, even if the quality was sub-par, due to age. Merlin was more the sentimental type than one who valued sapphires, or rubies or diamonds. Merlin liked simple, heartfelt things.

Merlin liked the sigil, enough to protect it with all he had, even if that meant letting go of it for short periods of time. Every so often, when Arthur was lucky, he could see the shape of it under Merlin’s tunic. He dreamed of the day Merlin would wear it on top. Maybe on their wedding, Arthur’s own way of ensuring his mother could join them on their special day.

He had only met the shadow of his mother briefly.

But he was sure, more sure than he had ever been, that she would approve.

Merlin’s own attachment to the sigil showed that.

And it meant more to Arthur than he could ever say. Not that he was particularly talented with words to begin with.

“Which date do you believe would be most suitable for the public announcement. I personally believe it should be no more than a few weeks before the wedding, to avoid too much chaos, but still leaving enough time for various nobles to arrange transportation to Camelot to be in attendance.” Arthur finally spoke up, immediately tuning out again as more angry shouts filled the room.

And when he did tune it all out once more, his thoughts remained with his man’s goofy smile, that haunted the sweetest of his days.

If anything could be for certain, Arthur was destined to be a happy, happy man. 

Chapter Text

Merlin had taken to walking behind Arthur. It was, and Arthur was always careful when he thought about this for getting too far into his own thoughts: decidedly odd. Before anything had ever happened between them, before Arthur had managed to bring up the courage, they had always been side by side.

(Arthur would never admit it out loud, but sometimes he liked to fantasise that Merlin had always seen them as one, much the same as Arthur had. That Merlin would daydream about them always being connected, and that’s why he had stayed close to Arthur. But then again, that also bought up the unpleasant idea that Merlin had been waiting for years for Arthur to ask him out, which was completely unacceptable).

But, as of recently, Merlin had started walking behind him at all times. And not just a little bit behind – the way he should have done as a manservant but never did, just to show disrespect – but all the way behind. So far behind that if Arthur reached out with an arm, he almost guaranteed he wouldn’t be able to pull him into a hug, or even grasp hold of his hand.

Completely unacceptable.

“You know, they’re all going to be talking about this, right? That Gwen didn’t come with us?”

“And that’s an issue because…” Arthur answered with a sarcastic eyeroll, trying to walk faster. He had to admit, he was pretty pleased with the idea of the picnic. He clutched the blanket to his chest as he walked, sniggering quietly as he heard Merlin shift around the basket. He had to admit, no matter how much he loved the idiot, Arthur could be quite petty himself. Give him a reason to walk behind. That would show him.

But then again, he had waited the last half-candlemark for Merlin to ask him to take the basket and carry it like a proper gentleman should. But he never asked.

“Because” Merlin finally hurried his walk to be close to Arthur, “All the castle talk is going to be about how you simply must be courting someone new in secret. And they’ll all be hounding me about your love life.” 

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure, but it almost sounded like Merlin was annoyed with him.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Only you, Merlin.” Arthur shook his head between his – very regal – laughter. He didn’t say the unspoken thing, that Merlin had chosen not to tell anyone he knew about their engagement yet. It made sense, logically. Merlin didn’t know he and Leon had won over (overruled) the council, and brought the proposal through.

It would be a nice surprise, surely.

“This is a good spot!” Merlin pointed to the ground beneath them. “We should stop here.”

Arthur blinked down, staring at the spot Merlin had pointed at.

“Merlin.”

“What? I think this would be a lovely place for a picnic!”

Arthur stared at the ground in disbelief.

“Right on top of stinging nettles and thorns? Really?”

“Well, I didn’t mean right on this exact spot, clearly…”

Arthur shrugged. Well if that was what his future husband wanted – he wouldn’t even pretend to hide the glee that came from that thought – then that’s what he would get. He knew the man he was marrying after all, strange creature that he was.

So, as Arthur moved over, he decided to make that very clear, even as he laid out the blanket.

“Perhaps not the most attractive spot you could have chosen, but I really don’t know why I expected anything else.”

Arthur hopped on the blanket, leaning as far away from the thorns as he could, while also blocking them so Merlin wouldn’t get stuck with them. As he said, he knew his future husband well. And, all-powerful sorcerer or not, he would get injured.

Merlin heaved the basket over, dropping it heavily onto the blanket, and collapsing next to Arthur.

Arthur turned to give him a grin, but Merlin seemed distracted, lost in his own thoughts.

He rolled his eyes again. Merlin always was in his own head, thinking about something important. But at least Arthur had some tact. It could very well be some very important sorcerer thing that he didn’t understand (and it wasn’t like Merlin liked to explain).

So, in an effort to be helpful, he started unpacking the basket, unloading their picnic.

Then, he waited. And waited.

“So I was actually wondering,” Arthur tried, “If you would like to share a bath this evening. It could be really romantic, and I know it’s a little intimate before the wedding, but we’ve shared beds and the like before so it wouldn’t be too weird. Well, not unless you smell really bad.”

Merlin stared out into the distance, completely silent, still and unmoving. Eventually, Arthur leaned forward. Eyes still definitely blue.

“At least eat something if you’re going to ignore me.”

In Arthur defence, he had been very patient.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me. Tonight. Bath. Yes, or no?” Arthur pressed, truly wanting to know.

Merlin wrinkled his eyebrows.

“You had one just last night, I don’t think you need another. And you might prefer to save it until after training tomorrow as you said you were going to make a day out of it.”

If Arthur could have thrown himself off a cliff in that moment, perhaps he would have chosen to do so.

Instead, wincing internally, he handed Merlin the waterskin and watching as he drank.

“I just thought...that we could…well, y’know,” Arthur said, stumbling over his words in a vague attempt to make it all less awkward. He knew straight away that he had failed, and winced more. He’s just not in the mood for anything. That’s fine, he’s probably still…nervous or something. It’s still so new, and you did sort of do the proposal before the courting bit.

That was made even more clear when Merlin spoke again.

“Arthur, I don’t-”

“It was just a thought, Merlin. Don’t make a big deal of it. Just…forget I said anything.”

Thoughts were running through Arthur’s head so fast. How did he fix this?

Then, with joy, he remembered why they – or rather, he – had decided to go on the picnic in the first place.

“The council and I have agreed on a date.”

Merlin’s head shot around.

“A date?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, grinning at Merlin’s shock. (And, something that he couldn’t quite read, but deeply hoped was delight.)

“Of course, Merlin. The wedding date. It’s quite required to have one, even for the peasants as I’m aware. Let alone for the King of Camelot.”

Merlin stared at him in utter silence. But that was okay, Arthur could do all the talking they needed. He was the King after all. He knew how to talk, even if Merlin was the one who wrote most of his speeches.

“Isn’t that great, love?” Arthur tried the pet name, but Merlin didn’t react to it. Maybe not, then. He pushed on anyway. “I really hope your happy, I didn’t fight for us to get rings on our hands for nothing!” Arthur hesitated, that almost made it sound like he had no control over his council whatsoever. And sure, Merlin wasn’t a maiden who knew nothing about the court, he spent more time than anyone else – barring Arthur – in the meetings but still. Arthur had pride. And, also, he didn’t want to risk discouraging Merlin. “But I finally won them over. Told you I could do it, didn’t I?”

Silence, long dreaded silence. Merlin was in shock, that much was clear. Arthur couldn’t complain, he hadn’t been much better when he left the council chamber, so overwhelmed with wonder that he’d had to sit down just staring out of one of the windows for a long time.

Pure euphoria. He understood well what Merlin was feeling – or, at least, so he hoped.

And so, he spoke again.

“You’ll be alright to handle the planning, won’t you?” Arthur grabbed an apple and bit into it.

“The planning?” Merlin sounded utterly baffled, and Arthur stared back.

“Course. I don’t know the first thing about tablecloths or florals.”

“Perhaps you should learn.” Merlin said with a shrug.

“Merlin, I am the king. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“I suppose so.” Merlin reached into the basket and grabbed an apple of his own, rolling it round and round in his hand instead of actually eating it.

Arthur looked closer and was suddenly shocked to see just how pale Merlin had gotten in the last few moment. Something magical? Were they being attacked?

He very carefully didn’t listen to the worried thought that perhaps Merlin was about to change his mind. But never, that could never happen. Merlin was too…good. Too loyal. He had shown Arthur time and time again how much he loved him.

Merlin would never leave Arthur.

He would never.

“What had gotten into you today? You look like the back end of my horse during sickness season.”

“I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night. Or the night before.”

Arthur’s furrowed his brow in worry.

“Why didn’t you sleep?”

“Just, didn’t feel well.”

Arthur fought against a wince.

“If you were sick, you could have come to me you know?”

“What?” Merlin’s speech sounded….harsh. And Arthur sighed internally, not fully blaming him. Arthur had not, in the past, been the best at looking after his fiancé, or caring about what he was doing. Well…he cared. He just didn’t know how to say that. He was ashamed to admit that it had taken proposing to Merlin – where his words just hadn’t rung as romantic as he wanted to – had he gone to Gwen and Gaius and asked them to help him express himself better, to give Merlin the fiancé that he so desperately deserved.

So, Arthur shouldered Merlin’s unspoken constructive criticism. He would just have to show him that he had improved. Every day, until the end of times. Internally, Arthur swooned.

But still. Arthur couldn’t help but be a little bit offended at the disbelief on Merlin’s face.

“Of course! That’s sort of the point of well…us.” Arthur responded, still feeling very, very awkward. A feeling that until very recently, he had almost never associated with Merlin. It’s all still new. You’re still getting used to this new dynamic. Soon, it will all be better.

“Marriage is making you soft.” Merlin finally said, and Arthur relaxed instantly, laughing himself.

“Yes, Merlin, yes I rather think it is.” Arthur gave Merlin a huge smile, and waited for him to return it.

And waited. And waited.

“That’s good, then.” Merlin finally said shifting around uncomfortably and looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

Arthur’s smile dropped at his words.

“Never mind,” Arthur sighed, “Let’s go home then, if your fragile bones can’t handle it.”

More like Arthur couldn’t take another minute of this picnic where thorns were stabbing into his back and Merlin wasn’t even smiling at him.

Arthur would be the first to admit, as he packed everything up by himself as Merlin still sat dazed that he was a little irritated.

He walked the first bit of the way home by himself, before realising that he was being both silly and extremely un-gentleman like. Hadn’t he been the one to just now tell Merlin that he should come to him, and to not hide if he was having a bad day? Arthur felt even more foolish the more he thought about it, and slowed his pace.

“You alright?” Arthur called out to Merlin.

“Perfectly fine.”

Arthur gave him a slight smile in return, waiting for him to catch up.

Eventually, when they got back to the castle, they were forced to separate again. Arthur didn’t want to, his very being protested the idea when Merlin was clearly having a bad day, but perhaps it was one of those times Merlin needed to be alone.

Those didn’t happen very often, usually just after Merlin had saved his life again or something similar. But it was something Arthur had to get used to when they were just friends, and he could do it again now that they were getting married.

This was just a part of Merlin.

This and the spaciness, and the privacy, and the nerves around showing his true feelings, or talking about what was bothering him.

It was all things he knew about Merlin, was used to, long before he asked Merlin to marry him. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much more now. They had both always been the most important people in the other’s life.

And so, Arthur chose to think of other things.

When he got to his chambers, he began to imagine. He imagined Merlin walking down the aisle, massive grin on overtaking his face in the way it sometimes did. And, well, Arthur struggled to imagine from there. Might be better, that way on his wedding day he would be experiencing it all for the very first time.

And, on top of that, Arthur really had no idea what magical wedding’s looked like, hence why he had left it all to Merlin.

Arthur could only hope it wasn’t overwhelming to him. But, then again, Merlin was no longer a servant, and he might appreciate having something to focus on.

Arthur lay back on his bed, smiling up at his ceiling.

Merlin would come to him when he was ready.

That, he was sure of.

Chapter Text

In the end, Merlin never spoke to Arthur.

But, then again, Arthur reasoned, that was probably less because he didn’t want to, and more because the chance never came up.

That, admittedly, makes him feel a little bad. (He knew better than anyone else that for someone to want to stay in his life, he needed to give them as much time and attention as he could, and the idea that they were splitting apart hurt him. A lot.)

But, Arthur reasoned, if it really was that important, Merlin would have told him. He would.

Husbands didn’t need to know absolutely everything that went on with each other, no matter how much Arthur wanted it. Married people needed space. Their own hobbies and interests. (Some parts of Arthur were still very glad Merlin didn’t talk about his magic all that much. Sure, Merlin looked very pretty and powerful and amazing. But, Arthur knew almost nothing more than ‘he talks and his eyes glow gold’ and he would hate to look like a fool if Merlin wanted to talk about it.

Maybe Arthur could do that as a loving gesture.

Surely that would make him smile.

Arthur gave a long sigh, dragging his hand through his hair in exasperation. It was already starting to look completely disbelieved. And no Merlin had turned up to fix it for him.

Because Merlin was always busy. And that was his fault, he knew, having given Merlin all the wedding planning to do, plus Merlin seemed so determined to keep bringing up his breakfast.

Still never ate any. That was a change he would have to put in place quickly. Put his foot down.

(He knew it was hopeless; he never could tell Merlin off. Or, well, he could. But Merlin would just ignore him. Like a prat.)

Eventually, Arthur had received the message. Loud and clear. I won’t be able to hold back until the wedding if we stayed as we were. Let’s keep ourself as busy as possible until then.

And, even though Arthur hated it, he couldn’t help but agree, deep down.

He didn’t know if he would be able to hold back either, given the chance. Merlin was – as much as Arthur hated to admit it, as he should have been the one to think of it in the first place – smart.

So, Arthur started doing other things as well.

“My Lord?” Arthur turned suddenly, Merlin’s name on his lips before he remembered that he would never be called that. Not by him.

“Leon,” Arthur said, feeling incredible awkward.

“The chair is ready, My Lord. For your final approval.”

That brought Arthur mood back up to where it was supposed to be. He nodded firmly at Leon, and the pair took of together, in the direction of the woodsmith.

Getting a chair for Merlin had been…well…a nightmare. To say the very least. The Queen’s throne already existed, and that could be passed on to Merlin easily – having been used for many generations, but the Queen Ygraine’s council chair, not so much.

His father had hidden it for years, and when Arthur bade his knights to fetch it and carry it to the council meeting for Merlin…it just felt wrong. That chair had been made specifically for his mother, while she was pregnant to preserve her posture and help her sore back.

As well as being far more cushioned that Merlin would likely ever be comfortable with. It smelled. Not badly, but it tickled Arthur’s nose with flowers and freshness and vanilla that made him feel ill.

He’d thought for the longest time he wanted Merlin to have everything his mother had, even down to the sigil. And, to an extent, that was right. But the chair was not. And so they had to get a new one.

(It, of course, had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the council members still hated Merlin, and Arthur didn’t want to upset him when he was already so stressed. Not at all.)

“Have you seen it yet, Leon?”

“Not myself. But I’ve heard that they re-created your design perfectly.”

That had been the other problem. Arthur had wanted Merlin’s seat to represent, well…Merlin. Not that Arthur knew anything about Merlin’s magical traditions, and so he stuck with what he knew.

And Arthur knew Merlin.

No matter what recent events seemed to state.

Arthur knew Merlin wouldn’t like anything too fancy, nothing with too much cushion and so that was the design he had given to his woodworkers. But issue after issue peered it’s ugly head.

First the design was a completely different colour from the rest of the room. Arthur had hoped it would be a pleasant clash, but there was a reason he was never in charge of colour pallets. It stood out like an infected wound. And Merlin would have hated it, giving the council members even more of a reason to turn their noses up and question them.

So that was scrapped.

The second had been more promising, fitting into the room perfectly, but when Arthur tried to test it out – with the help of one of his knights (Leon) they quickly discovered that not only would it make holding Merlin incredibly awkward, but that it would be near impossible for Merlin to spring up in the case of an emergency.

Utterly unacceptable.

“My Lord?” Leon questioned, and Arthur blinked back into himself. Ah. Of course.

Arthur reached forward and opened the woodworker’s door.

“Your highness!” the excited woodworker cried, motioning him forward into the back room. Almost like they hadn’t been talking every single day for the last few weeks.

The chair stood pride of place in the centre of the room. And, entirely without thinking, Arthur made his way towards it.

The sides were carved with a dragon on both sides, and a decorative pattern of leaves surrounding it. He hoped, so desperately hoped that Merlin would love it as much as he did.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly to the woodworker. Marriage really was making him soft. “Leon, please make arrangements to move this chair up to the council chamber.”

Today was the day.

The meeting that afternoon.

In a very un-king-like fashion, Arthur gulped. Slightly. Almost unnoticeably.

Today it was.

“I am quite sure Merlin will love it, sire,” Leon said, as the chair was draped in various fabrics to cover it. For security. (And so Merlin didn’t ruin his own surprise by going on some odd walk through the town or something).

“I appreciate that, Leon,” Arthur managed, fiddling with his belt. Entirely too tight. Almost like it needed another-no. Not before his wedding.

He let his hands fall to his sides, just as a few other knights came in, lifting the chair up and out of the door.

Arthur followed them the entire way there, creating a slightly odd, and rather formal procession. He’s going to love it. Of course he’s going to love it.

He better love it.

The chair landed gently on the floor of the hall. After a few more tests, and tilting it back and forth for the best chance of intimacy and also preparation for emergencies. It was perfect.

And not a moment too soon, for the first member of the council arrived. Admittedly, it was only Geofrey, but still, Arthur couldn’t help the disappointment that filled him. Perhaps some part of him had been hoping he could have shown Merlin his new chair in private.

That couldn’t happen now.

“I will return shortly,” he told Geofrey, walking back out the door to find his errant fiancé. “Perhaps you would care to step outside to greet the others?”

Geofrey did as such.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to look far.

As soon as he peered through the crack in the door Merlin was leaning against one of the walls, seemingly staring straight up at the ceiling. Arthur couldn’t be sure, but his eyes still looked blue. Even from so far away.

Weird. Definitely weird.

“Merlin! Job for you!” Arthur called out from the doorway to the council chambers, making an exaggerated ‘come hither’ motion with his hand and head.

Merlin made an odd, choked panting sound, and Arthur couldn’t help the weird look that crossed his face. He would have to – subtly – bet with Leon later that Merlin had decided to chase some magical foe down on foot.

Gods, he was going to have to get Merlin a guard. A guard who was decidedly not Gwaine. Or anyone Merlin knew really.

Arthur opened the doors for Merlin dramatically, placing a hand on his shoulder. He better be excited about this one.

Arthur strode them both over to the chair, giving Geofrey a look out of the corner of his eye clearly saying what he hoped was some variation of stay out there.

They stood in front of the chair for the few moments, Merlin staring blankly at the thing like he didn’t know what it was.

Internally, Arthur winced. A deep wince that crept up his chest.

He’s just being a prat. Maybe he just needs to sit in it.

Still feeling incredibly awkward, with Merlin making no move to do anything on his own, he pushed down on the shoulder in his grasp, pushing Merlin into the chair. He found his own seat soon after.

Still nothing.

Maybe…maybe Merlin just didn’t care about chairs. Maybe a chair like it had been enchanted once at it had left his constantly wary.

But the crushing sadness in Arthur’s chest was almost too much to ignore.

The other nobles flooded into the room, but Arthur couldn’t look away from Merlin. And his blank, uninterested face.

Arthur stared at his own hand, still clutching Merlin’s shoulder like he was trying to balance on something. Not exactly very loving.

He reached over to Merlin and pulled him into his chest, and to his relief, felt Merlin relax and go limp into his grip. A thrill ran through his mind. They were cuddling for the very first time.

Merlin smelt of straw, of herbs, of smoke. He smelt of Merlin, and nothing could be more perfect. It almost worked as a salve to the burn of Merlin’s disinterest in Arthur’s hard work.

But it wasn’t exactly his. Just his design. Maybe Merlin wanted something more…personal?

A noble coughed, and Arthur looked up feeling incredibly embarrassed.

“Lord Henry, your report?” Arthur tried to keep his voice as professional and put together as he could.

The noble started talking about something or another, and Arthur nodded along. None of the nobles bothered to even try and make eye contact with the man curled on Arthur’s chest. So warm. So pokey. So very Merlin.

And they were just…completely ignoring him.

That would not do at all.

“Your thoughts, Merlin?”

The other nobles jumped at Arthur’s harsh interjection, but he’d had quite enough.

Just as Arthur planned, all their eyes turned to Merlin, and he found his own going towards him as well.

This was his moment. To show them why Arthur valued Merlin’s contributions for years. Why Merlin had written most of Arthur’s tax policies, his speeches. That Merlin was a political tactician when he was allowed to be.

Arthur waited with bated breath.

“I agree with Arthur,” he finally made out. Arthur felt his heart sink. He wasn’t disappointed. It was just nerves. He could never be disappointed in Merlin. He was just nervous. That was all.

But Arthur hadn’t said anything.

And everyone knew that.

Lord James gave a look, and started talking about something else.

But Arthur still stared down at his fiancé. Never had he not had the words. Not once in all the time Arthur had known him.

Just tired and stressed, he told himself. He’s just tired and stressed and probably just fought and magical battle and-

Well.

It wouldn’t hurt to check. Just in case.

And, just as he was thinking of calling a mid-way stop (more of a quarter stop, but that didn’t matter) something horrible happened.

A sound filled the room. A groaning, moan that sounded like someone had been punched in the throat.

It took Arthur a few moments to realise that it was coming from Merlin, who he turned to in confusion. What was he supposed to do?

He gestured for the Lord to continue before turning to his fiancé.

Distantly, he waved his hand, and a maidservant appeared with the goblets and jug. He poured Merlin a drink, and almost shoved it in his hands. Drink idiot.

How long had it been since Merlin drunk anything?

But still, Merlin just stared dumbly down at the goblet. A while then. Since he had drunk anything. Or probably slept, knowing him.

Thinking about it, Merlin was swaying a little when out of Arthur’s hold.

Idiot.

Arthur laid a gentle kiss on the top of Merlin’s hair, whispering into it.

“Are you alright?”

The throat groaning stopped straight away.

But it took Merlin a full minute to say anything in response.

“Just a little thirsty,” Merlin sounded a little hoarse when he spoke, but not nearly as bad as Arthur was expecting.

“Well then, drink,” the King replied, lips quirking up in a little smile, finally relaxing a little. “I did give it to you for a reason.”

Mystery solved, then.

Another thing he would have to do when they were married. Pull Merlin back to bed. Properly.

Merlin took a long drink, and Arthur smiled down at him.

The rest of the word seemed to fade away, until it was just Arthur and Merlin, in there own little moment and nothing could take that away from them.

Never again.