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Chapter Text

It was early spring in Ealdor. A time for new blossoms, new beginnings and, for Hunith, for a long-due conversation with her son. It was a conversation she had put off for as long as she could, but it had to be had. And she knew Merlin suspected as much. He couldn't stay for much longer, the people were growing suspicious. And, as much as it would pain her to send her son away, she feared it would be more dangerous for him to stay.

Merlin was just returning from the forest with his friend Will to collect firewood, as they had done every day in the past months. Will was a sweet boy, and a good friend to her son, but she knew that if he stayed, he would only be the first of many to find out about her son’s gifts. 

So she put the kettle on and led him inside, asking him to take a seat by the fire.

“Mum, is everything alright?" He asked, caught off guard by her serious expression. "Did I do something wrong?" He guessed. "I had nothing to do with the fallen branch incident, I swear.”

And she sighed, rubbing his hand fondly. She hadn’t heard anything about the fallen branch incident, but she suspected she soon would. These days, it seemed the neighbours would blame anything on her son, even if he was nowhere to be found when it happened.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart," she reassured him. "There’s just something I wish to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” He promptly asked.

“Do you remember Uncle Gaius?” She began, trying to broach the subject.

This wasn't the first time they sat down to have this conversation, and she suspected it wouldn't be the last.

“Of course I do, he writes to us every season," Merlin recalled with a bright smile. But then his smile faltered a moment later. "Did something happen to him? Has he fallen ill?”

It was a fair assumption, after all Gaius already had grey hair the one time he visited them when Merlin was still a little boy. But thankfully, his job seemed to preserve his health as well as the health of his patients.

“No, Gaius is alright," she reassured him. "I was just thinking that perhaps it would be good for you to visit him for a while, maybe you could take up healing or find some other job in the city,” she suggested.

“You want me to go to Camelot?” Merlin asked, surprised.

She had to admit it didn't sound very promising to send her son to a city where magic was outlawed, but it was still a big city, and it would be easier for him to hide there than in a small village where everyone knew each other's business. Besides, she knew spending more time with Gaius would be good for him, too. He could teach him, guide him to find a real purpose for his gifts.  

“Just for a while,” she tried to soften the blow.

“When you say for a while…” Merlin stood up, tears prickling at his eyes.

“Merlin…" She lifted a hand to caress his face gently. "You knew this day would come. I won’t be around forever to protect you, and the people are growing suspicious.”

“I can’t leave Ealdor, I can’t leave you. I have Will, I have…my whole life's here,” he pleaded, pulling away from her touch.

"I know, sweetheart," she attempted to comfort him. "But this is a small village. There’s only so long until someone can keep a secret like yours. I wouldn’t ask you to go if I thought you’d be safer here.” 

“Is this because Will knows?" He tried to change the subject. "He promised not to tell anyone.” 

They had had a fight about Will before. She had to admit she was fairly angry when she found out, but now she took it as a warning sign. Merlin couldn't stay much longer. 

“This isn’t just about Will, Merlin. The people already suspect you. You seem to be the one to blame for everything that happens around here these days.”

"I don't care. I can take the blame. It's always been like that for me," he retorted back and she nearly cried at the pained look on his face.

"But it's getting worse. I know you can feel it too, and it's affecting you," she confessed. And at that, Merlin finally broke into tears. She knew he had been unhappy for months, and she hated seeing that change in him. He barely smiled these days, and she missed it, she missed her boy. "Oh, Merlin, I hate seeing you like this," she said as she rushed to embrace him.

“I don’t want to leave, Mama," he whispered in between sobs. "Please don't make me go.”

“Oh, my sweet cariad…" She murmured as she rubbed his back in soothing circles. "It’s alright, it’s going to be alright. You’ll find your place in Camelot just as you did here,” she reassured him.

A part of her understood what he was going through, having dealt with visions from a young age. A touch of a hand and she could glimpse entire lifetimes, happiness and gloom. It was a blessing and a curse. But it was different from Merlin's. Because her visions troubled no one but herself. It was for the best, she knew. Even if she would miss him dearly. 

Still, as she helped him pack for his journey, she couldn't help but reach out for his hands, seeking reassurance, validation that she was making the right choice, that he would be safe there. But as she held his hands, always too cold for his own good, she saw anything but that.

She glimpsed the future that place would bring him and she couldn’t help but flinch. Her visions were usually vague at best, but this one was clear as glass. She saw her son alongside a blond prince. She saw him serve him, love him and lose him all in the span of a few seconds. She watched his sweet smile fade as he lost everyone and everything he held dear. And at last she saw him by the shore of a lake, his heart forever broken, never to be the same again… Tears threatened at her eyes at that sorrowful sight. The vision went as swiftly as it had come, leaving her breathless. This wasn’t the future she wished for her son. He was a sweet boy, he didn’t deserve to live out such a cruel fate. 

“Mother? Mother, are you alright?” Merlin asked after a while, grounding her back in reality.

“Yes,” she reassured him as she planted a soft kiss on the back of his hands. “I do love you, my son. And I don’t wish any harm to come to you. So just…be careful.”

“I-I am. I will be, I promise,” he replied, concern evident in his eyes. “If I promise to be careful, do I still have to leave?” 

"No," she reassured him. "You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. You'll just stay right here and I'll watch over you, like I always have."

Perhaps destiny wasn't set in stone, perhaps she could still save her boy by keeping him close, by keeping him safe. 

“You don’t have to do that," Merlin said flustered, shifting under her embrace. "I’m not a little boy anymore, I can look after myself. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I know, but you’ll always be my precious little boy,” she said fondly, holding him closer.

That night, she watched over her son sleeping peacefully from her wooden desk, writing to Gaius that he wouldn’t be arriving on Wednesday after all. Was she selfish? Perhaps. But still she watched over him, hoping, praying that Destiny would not come for her son, that the Gods would let her keep him, safe and tucked away, just as he was… 

Chapter Text

She had hoped that would be the end of it, that her son had escaped the cruel hands of destiny. But destiny had other plans, and they seemed to be more stubborn than a mother’s will. And surely enough, the next morning Merlin and Will came back from the forest, brewing more trouble than usual. 

“Mother! Mother!” Her son called out from the edge of the forest. He was struggling to carry something, or rather someone, with Will's help.

“What is it, Merlin?” She rushed to them, worried. 

“An injured knight. We found him while we were searching for firewood.” 

And as she caught a glimpse of the knight they were carrying, she slightly flinched as she was faced with the sight of the man she had seen just last night in her visions. A man, who would live and die beside her son. And she was instantly hit by a wave of guilt. What if in trying to save her boy, she had condemned the other? She couldn’t live with herself if she let him die and, by the looks of it, neither could Merlin.  

"Quick, get him inside so I can have a look at him," she said as she ushered them in.

“Will he be alright?” Merlin asked as they laid him down on the pallet. 

Now she was no experienced healer, but she had picked up enough healing from her brother that she knew how to tend a wound. 

“I don’t know," she replied honestly, "I’ll have to check his wound. But first, we have to get him off this armour.”

Once they managed to sort out all the straps and buckles of the armour, she could finally have a real look at the damage. He had a nasty wound on his shoulder - probably the work of a spear or an arrow aimed for his heart - and his legs were also covered in minor bruises. Thankfully, his armour seemed to protect him from the worst of the damage.    

“Is he one of Cenred’s men?” Merlin asked as he passed her a clean cloth. 

“No, Camelot,” she answered promptly. She would recognise the crest on that red cape anywhere. She had learnt it by heart, first to protect his father, then to protect her son. 

“What would a knight of Camelot be doing in Ealdor? Surely, he knows this is Cenred’s land,” Merlin wondered aloud as he watched over the knight with concern.

“Asking for war, that’s what he’s doing," Will answered for her, always quick to bad-mouth nobles. "That’s all nobles like him know how to do. It’s his own fault for playing soldier on a kingdom that isn’t his own.”  

“Perhaps he strayed too far on a patrol, or maybe he came on some diplomatic mission,” she offered a more ponderate explanation.  

“Yeah, that’s why he came armed to the bone,” Will retorted as he glared at all the weapons they had uncovered hidden in his armour.

It was true that the prince carried an astonishing amount of weapons with him, but that was probably not uncommon for a knight of his standing. He was a prince in a foreign land, after all. It would be unwise to come unprepared. Even so, it didn't seem to aid him much in whatever he was fighting. 

After she cleaned his wound, she applied to it a mixture of honey and herbs she had seen Gaius use before to prevent infections. All the while, Merlin watched her every move intently. He had never taken much of an interest in the healing arts, but he couldn't seem to leave the stranger's side.   

When she was finally done, she sat by the fireplace, cleaning the sweat off her face.

That was it. She had done all she could for the boy. She hoped that it was enough, but now only time would tell. Still, she couldn't help but feel guilty for putting him in this position. Maybe if she had sent her son to Camelot, all this would've been avoided, his life wouldn't have been at risk... But who could say what would have happened then? The thing about visions is that they never give you the full picture.   

Of course, her son, attentive as he was, was quick to notice her inner turmoil.

“What’s wrong, mother?” He asked as he sat beside her by the fireplace.

“I fear I’ve put him in danger…” She said, looking warily at the young prince.

“Why would you say that? He was already injured when we found him,” Merlin reassured her innocently. 

He couldn't have known. But she knew, she knew this would happen.

“I fear I’ve put us all in danger…” She confessed, more to herself than to him.

“Mother…” He uttered softly as he reached for her hand.

“Merlin, if they find him here, if they find out about your gifts-”  She voiced her fears aloud, squeezing his hand tightly.

“They won’t. We’ll be safe. And he’ll get better. I can feel it,” he assured her, and, not for the first time, she wondered if his powers were telling him something hers were not. "Now, you should get some rest. I'll stay and watch over him."

And so she did, too tired to argue with him.

His magic had called to him ever since they found him in the woods. He could feel it buzzing, prickling under his skin, eager to come out, perhaps recognising something in him familiar to itself. For a wistful moment, he wondered if the blond stranger was like him, if he had magic just like his. But that couldn't be. After all, he was a knight of Camelot, he chased people like him for a living. Still, he couldn't help but wish that he was different, that he was there for a reason.

He had certainly suffered a great deal to get there, to get to him. When they found him, he was breathing in shallow breaths, shaking with a fever, and he instantly felt an overwhelming urge to protect him, to take him home. They couldn't just leave him out there, despite Will's claims to the contrary. Will had argued that bringing him in would just be asking for trouble, and it probably was, but then again maybe he was looking for trouble. Nothing ever happened out here, and perhaps he had hoped that maybe, just maybe...this was a sign that things were finally starting to change. 

As for the blond stranger, now he wasn't shaking anymore and his breathing came in in more even breaths, but his face still contorted into a pain-filled frown even in sleep. And more than anything, he wanted to soften it, to rid him of all his pain. He thought perhaps if he was better at magic, then he would be able to heal him, spare his mother the trouble...but there was no use dwelling on that.

So he kept dabbing at his forehead with a damp cloth, hoping that that would be enough for him to see another sunrise.

And as he tossed and turned, Merlin repeated the soothing motion, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he did so.

"It's alright...you're going to be alright. I'll keep you safe..."

When morning came, Merlin was still by the prince's side. It would be heartwarming how invested her son was in healing the boy, were it not for the future she had glimpsed for him. A future of loss, grief, of sacrificing everything he had and everything he was for that boy.

Still, she walked towards him with a warm smile, greeting him with a soft kiss on the top of his head. Merlin was easily startled by the gentle movement and quickly turned to blink up at her.

"Is it dawn already?" He asked wearily, sleep lacing his features.

"Yes, cariad," she whispered softly. "You should try to rest. You don't have to worry, I'll watch over him."

"It's alright. I'm not tired," he said, though his sleepy expression betrayed him. And suddenly she saw him as a little boy again, begging her for five more minutes of play before going to bed. 

"You really care for him, don't you?" She asked fondly, scared at how easily she could see it in his eyes. 

"I know it's foolish to but…I feel…connected to him somehow,” he confessed. “Like I was always meant to help him."

"Maybe you were," she replied with sad smile, knowing destiny's cruel plan was already in motion.

But even then she knew that she couldn't keep her son away from the boy, any more than she could keep him away from the magic within him. They had been brought together by forces stronger than she could understand. And Destiny made it clear that that's how it was meant to be. 

"Oh, my sweet cariad…" she murmured into his hair as she pressed yet another kiss in it.

All she could do now was lead him to the path that would lead to less heartbreak, and pray that just this once, he would follow it. 

Chapter Text

His mother had gone out to gather some supplies, so he was left to watch over the blond knight. It was a strange feeling. To feel so connected to someone he had never met. Someone he had never even spoken to. And yet, he knew he was important. He could feel it in his bones, see it in the way the sunlight danced around his golden hair like a halo and in the way the morning breeze rose to meet his lungs. As if the universe itself was whispering something his magic already knew, something akin to 'He is important' and 'He must be protected'.  

Maybe it was foolish, but ever since he was little, he had always felt that something had been missing, that there had to be a greater purpose for his gifts. There had to be. (Otherwise, why would it feel so much like a curse?) And maybe he would show him the answer, the calling he was supposed to take. He just wished he would wake up so he could know his name.

And just then, the blond knight stirred in his sleep.

“He’s waking up," he shouted, calling out for Will. "Quick, Will, fetch my mother. Tell her he’s waking up.”

“Where…where am I?" The blond man asked, holding onto his head. He was clearly disoriented, and understandably so.

“You're in Ealdor, my friend," he told him with a warm smile. "I'm sorry you didn't have the warmest welcome,” he added apologetically, staring at the wound in his shoulder. 

”Who-who are you? Do I know you?” The blond knight replied confused.

Oh, right. With all the excitement, he had forgotten to introduce himself. 

“I’m Merlin," he said, extending his hand with a smile. "My mother is treating you.”

“Treating me?” He asked, only vaguely acknowledging his hand with a suspicious glare. It was honestly rather rude, but the man had lost a lot of blood, so he gave him a pass.

“You were injured when we found you in the woods,” he explained.  

"Ah." He looked down nonchalantly as if feeling his injury for the first time.

“Where-where are my knights? Are they alright?” He asked promptly, not sparing another thought to his own injury.

Merlin supposed that it spoke highly of his character that he was more concerned about his fellow knights than his own condition, but still he feared that he was taking all this too lightly. 

“I don’t know. You were alone when we found you,” he replied anyway, knowing he would probably be disappointed by his answer.

“I…I have to go back…" He decided then, as if his injury was nothing more than an inconvenience. He didn't think he was being serious until the man tried to sit up, barely reigning in the pain as he held onto his side.

"What are you doing? You should stay still, you've lost a lot of blood," Merlin advised, but the knight promptly ignored his warning.  

"I need to report back to my father…” He insisted, still trying to get off the bed with an unnerving urgency.

Merlin didn't care what he had to report or why he felt the need to report it to his father of all people, but it would have to wait. 

“Don’t be foolish, you can’t go anywhere like that,” Merlin said, trying to get him to see sense. 

“Oh, yeah? Just try and stop me,” he replied with a defiant look that was impossibly annoying. 

So Merlin took that as a challenge, promptly climbing on the bed and tackling him to make him see sense. But the man was as stubborn as he was strong, barely having trouble countering his weight even despite his injury.

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt yourself," Merlin warned again, not wanting to put pressure on any sensitive muscles. "My mother is going to be home any minute. At least wait for her before you rip your stitches and fall unconscious on the floor.”

"Get off me, you idiot!" He ordered, now struggling a little under his weight, and Merlin had to suppress a triumphant grin.  

But, of course, that was the moment his mother chose to come home.

“Merlin!” She scolded from the door, anger flashing in her eyes. "Get off him this second!"

"It's not my fault. He was being a prat!” He said defensively.

“You can’t address me like that!” The blond replied with a haughty look. 

“And why is that?” Merlin retorted back, barely fighting the urge to stick out his tongue.

It was astounding how he managed to get on his nerves so quickly. 

“Because I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot,” he revealed with a smug grin, and in that moment he never wanted to punch him more.  

Somehow his mother didn't seem surprised by the revelation, but it made him stop in his tracks. Suddenly, he was seeing him for who he was. Not the mysterious stranger they had found in the forest, but the pratish prince that had woken up in his mother's bed. His demanding attitude, his arrogant look. It all made sense now. Will was right. He was just another pompous noble like the rest of them. 

He slowly climbed out of the bed, suddenly ashamed for ever thinking there was more to him than that.  

“Merlin, why don’t you go fetch some firewood with Will?” She asked as she fixed him with a disapproving look. 

It was clearly an excuse to get him out of the house, but he gladly took it.

“Yes, mother,” he muttered before heading out the door.

He felt so stupid. It served him well for thinking he was special. Never mind that about a calling. He was just an arrogant prat. 

Hunith hadn’t expected to return home to find her son tackling a prince, but then again, when one’s son is of the magical kind, you get used to finding him doing much stranger things.

Her son's immediate disliking of the prince didn't do much to soothe her worries about the future either, because she knew him well enough to know this was likely just the beginning of a long-suffering affection.

Still, she watched over him with sympathy. Now that he was awake, he didn’t look as much as a soldier or a prince, but just a boy - far too young to be putting on the weight of armour. And she wondered if, much like her son, he carried the burden of a destiny that was too heavy for his shoulders to bear. 

“I’m sorry about my boy, he’s not usually like this,” she said apologetically, and she meant it. For all the odd things Merlin did, tackling strangers wasn't one of them. And the prince sent her a benevolent nod, perhaps pleased that she was giving him the reason. But she wouldn't have that. “But you must know that he is right. You can’t possibly go back to Camelot in the state you’re in."

“But I have to get back to my men, I have to report back to my father,” he protested, shifting on the pallet.

"That is, if you'd even be able to get to them," she reasoned. For as much as he seemed to value his responsibilities, he didn't seem to value his life very much. She figured that was also what landed him here. "Tell me, your Highness, how would it look if the prince of Camelot was spotted limping around a small village in Cenred’s kingdom? His guards would be here within the day,” she emphasised in an effort to make him see sense. 

"I see," he conceded, realising how foolish he sounded. 

“But if it will put your mind at rest, we can send a messenger to Camelot to let your father know that you’re safe," she offered, hoping that would comfort him.

But as she reached to touch his hand in sympathy, she saw it wasn’t worry that he felt about his father, it was fear. Fear of his reaction, fear of the consequences. And then she saw it all…The abuse he was forced to endure, the father who couldn’t bring himself to hold him when he needed most, the father who failed to praise and encourage him in anything but the art of war… 

It instantly dawned on her how scared he must feel, not just of his new surroundings but of the storm that awaited him back home, and more than anything she felt compelled to hold him close, to take him in and to shoulder him from the burdens of his world.  

So she approached him again, gestures softer, tender, as one would approach a wounded animal.

“Look, I know you don’t like this any more than I do, but for some reason, you ended up in my home and I’m going to take care of you while you’re here. Understood?" She told him, her tone firm but warm. She needed him to know that he was safe here.

And at that, the boy blinked at her a few times as if being cared for was a foreign concept to him. He probably wasn't used to being spoken to in that way as well.

"You can stay here for as long as you need,” she added, hoping to get through to him.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he finally replied, overly polite.

"Just Hunith will do," she said with an amused smile. The boy was far too tense, but she didn't blame him. After all, Merlin hadn't exactly made a good first impression of them. “And, don’t worry, I’ll talk to Merlin as well. I’ll try to get him to be more…civil in his approach. He's not a bad boy. He just cares a lot, you know?”

Arthur just gave her a slight nod. Though it was unclear whether it was because he agreed with her, or because he was too tired to speak. Either way, she should leave him to rest.

"I'll get you some more blankets and some clean clothes if you wish to change. But in the meantime, you should try to rest. You've been through quite an ordeal."

And as she leaned down to give him a light goodnight kiss on the forehead, she noticed by his surprised reaction that no one had ever done that to him before, and she pitied the poor boy forced to grow up without a mother's love.

"So, what's he like?" Will asked once they were past the edge of the forest, disguising his curiosity by kicking a branch in the way. 

"Disappointing," he replied drily. To say that Arthur was not what he expected was an understatement. Will raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. "He's a complete prat. From the moment he woke up, he started acting like an ass."

"And? Why is that surprising? I could have told you that much."

"I don't know. I just thought he would be different," he admitted.

"Don't fool yourself, Merlin. These knight types are all the same. They're born with a silver spoon in their mouth and all they care about is the honour and glory of battle, nothing more," Will started on his familiar rant. "What we should be worried about is our safety." 

"Our safety?" Merlin asked confused. 

"I mean, think about it, we know nothing about this knight. Did he seem dangerous to you?" Will asked. 

He knew Will had become more protective of him ever since he learned of his magic, but he usually didn't pay him any mind. Because he was already used to it - staying alert, watching over his shoulder - and Will clearly wasn't. Most of the times, he was just being paranoid anyway. 

"I don't know, he seemed pretty harmless to me," Merlin replied honestly. "He couldn't even get out of bed by himself."

"Yeah, but can we trust him? He came all the way from Camelot, after all. For all we know, he could be here to spy on us," Will thought aloud.

"Yeah, cause Camelot is really interested in you and how long it's been since you've cleaned your socks," he teased, shoving him playfully. 

"I'm just saying we should be careful, especially you," Will advised. "Who knows what he'd do if he found out about your secret?"

Perhaps he should have been more careful, but he was so busy arguing with Arthur that his magic hadn't even registered him as threatening, just decidedly irritating. 

When they got home, his mother was waiting for them by the door with an unreasonable request. 

"No, absolutely not. I'm not apologising to that prat," he protested.

"Merlin…Arthur is our guest here, and you'd do well to be nice to him," she reminded him with a disapproving tone.

"I've been nothing but nice to him and he's been a prat to me from the moment he woke up," he retorted.

"Merlin…" She scolded again. "Arthur is injured and away from home, it's normal that he feels…agitated. It's our job to make him feel welcomed and safe until he gets home. After all, he will only be with us for a few days. Do you think you can be civil until then?" She asked, buttering him up with a soft kiss on the cheek.     

"Of course, Mum," he replied as if he could've said anything else.  

"Great," she beamed at him. "Now, come inside and apologise." 

So he sighed and followed her inside, embracing his fate. 

He could do this. After all, he was used to apologising even when he wasn't to blame.

But when he got there, Arthur was already asleep. He looked so peaceful with his blond fringe draping over his eyes that he could almost forget the prat beneath it. He looked like he could really use the rest, too. God knows, what he went through before he ended up here.

But then he stirred as he sensed him approach the pallet. 

"You're not going to tackle me again, are you?" He asked lazily, barely opening his eyes to look at him.  

“No," he said reluctantly, swallowing the remark on his lips. "I’m…sorry. I’m afraid we started on the wrong foot.”

He tried his best to make it sound sincere, but Arthur saw right through him.

“Did your mother tell you to say that?” Arthur asked with a smug grin.

God, he was infuriating.

“Just… shut up and take it," he said through gritted teeth, glancing behind to check if his mother was still looking, "because that's the only apology you're going to get from me."

"She can be quite persuasive, can’t she?" Arthur threw in, ignoring his last remark, perhaps realising it wasn't the greatest idea to make an enemy of the man who was going to be tending to him.  

"Tell me about it,” he agreed with a light chuckle. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her, even if he had to pretend to get along with someone as intolerable as Arthur. “I assume she talked you into staying, too?”

“Just until I get back on my feet,” Arthur conceded. 

“Good," he relished his small victory. Though it wasn't really a victory for him now that he knew he had to spend more time with Arthur. Still, he couldn't resist teasing him. "Though, even if she hadn’t, you still wouldn’t have been able to get far. You couldn’t even get through me.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been trained to kill since birth. If I wasn’t injured, you’d be on the floor by now,” Arthur bragged, trying to sound threatening. But it wasn't working.

“Oh yeah?” Merlin replied defiantly.

“Yeah. I could take you apart with just one blow,” Arthur said with a cocky grin.

“I could take you apart with less than that,” he retorted back.

And at that Arthur snorted in a way that was totally indignified for a prince and resembled more a dying donkey, and yet it was an oddly compelling sound and he just wanted to hear more of it. 

“That’s settled, then," he replied, amused. "Once I get better, I’m going to own you up to that and then I’m going to march back to Camelot and never have to see you again.”

“Sounds good to me,” Merlin replied.

God, this was going to be a long few days.

Chapter Text

Arthur woke up in the worst mood. For starters, his bed felt bumpier than usual. Not only that, but his body ached all over, especially around his chest and shoulders. And to make matters worse, his stupid servant must have left his curtains open, causing him to be blinded by the morning sun.

"Rise and shine!" Came Morris' voice, more cheerful than usual, which was odd because the only time his servant displayed any sort of emotion was when he was throwing weapons at him during target practice. 

His servant had also never woken him up by mercilessly pulling up his covers, which honestly was rather rude and no way to treat a prince. 

"Why on earth did you do that?" He asked, barely opening his eyes to glare at the figure. 

“Breakfast’s ready,” he announced carelessly as if that was a reasonable excuse for waking up a prince like that. 

"Just leave it on the table, Morris," he grumbled into his pillow, which was also not as soft as he remembered. 

"Who's Morris?" The cheerful voice asked, completely shattering his illusion. 

For a moment, he had been under the blissful illusion that he was back in Camelot being woken up by Morris after a restful night, but then the messy head of dark curls and the throbbing pain in his shoulder reminded him of his surroundings. So it hadn't been a dream. He was still stuck in a small village with an injured shoulder under the care of a kind woman and her crazy son.

"It doesn't matter," he sighed in resignation, still rubbing sleep off his face. He supposed it was better than being dead, though whether he had died or not and this was hell, was still waiting on a verdict. 

“What’s that?” He felt compelled to ask when he saw Merlin come towards him with a suspicious plate of food. 

“Breakfast,” Merlin said in way of an answer.

Arthur eyed its gowy contents with an apprehensive look. 

"You can't expect me to eat that," he declared, despite his rumbling stomach, after a closer examination.

“Very well,” Merlin said as he shrugged, promptly taking a spoonful for himself without warning.

And Arthur just gaped at him for a moment. Never in his life had he been so rudely treated. From his rough awakening to his appalling 'breakfast', Merlin's treatment of his guests left much to be desired. Not even his servants dared to wake him up so crudely. No servant of his had ever dared to steal his food from his plate either, but that was beside the point.

"Hang on," Arthur protested once he regained his ability to speak, doing a poor job at hiding his outraged expression.

“What?" Merlin asked unbothered. "If you’re not going to eat it, I will.”

The boy had a complete disregard for who he was or his royal status, which he found both insulting and intriguing. 

“Look, I’m sorry if my mother's cooking is not up to royal standards, your Highness. But we’re not really in a position to waste food,” Merlin spelt it out for him, once it was clear he wasn't getting it.   

Oh. It hadn’t occurred to him that in such a small village, food might be hard to come by. Now he felt like a proper jerk.

He didn't know why but it felt wrong for Merlin to look at him with such disdain. And he immediately wanted to make it right by him. He felt the urge to say something to defend himself or apologise, but Merlin was out of his sight with the plate before he could think of something remotely intelligent to say.

He was convinced then that, if he had indeed died, then Merlin must have been some sort of demon sent to torment him.

His mother, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of him, an angel on earth.

“Here,” she said as she handed him another plate, this one bearing no trace of the gowy substance. Instead, it contained a modest display of bread and cheese. “I know it’s not what you're used to but…”

“It’s perfect,” he replied, and that earned him a warm smile.

"How are you feeling today?" She asked as she sat by his bedside. 

"Better," he said around a mouthful. In truth, he was feeling like hell, but he didn't want to seem ungrateful. She was already doing so much for him. "Thanks again for all your kindness, Hunith," he felt compelled to add. 

"It's nothing. Anyone would have done the same," she said modestly, even though he knew it wasn't true. A lot of people would've fetched the handsome reward Cenred was sure to give to anyone turning over the Prince of Camelot to him.

"If you'd like, I could redress your wound for you after you finish, to check how it's healing?" she offered after a moment. 

"That would be great," he replied with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Hunith."

"I've also found you some ink and parchment, in case you wish to write to your father," she added. 

That, however, was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

"Right. Thank you, Hunith," he said anyway. 

Once he was done with breakfast, Hunith made quick work of removing his tunic and bandages to have a look at his wound, always careful to avoid touching any injured or sore muscles. 

"It seems to be healing well enough. It's not infected, which is good," Hunith commented after a quick examination.

"I'm glad," he replied awkwardly. 

She smiled and then proceeded to redress the wound.

Without his armour or tunic, he felt rather exposed. But he still felt safe around Hunith. Her gentle hands, tended him, nurtured him, in a way he wasn't sure if he deserved. Still, he would take any small kindness he was offered until he was well enough to leave this place.

Despite that, his mind kept going back to his interactions with Merlin, and he wondered how there could be such a contrast between mother and son.  

“Your son…is he always like this?” He couldn't help but ask. 

"Usually not. You must have made quite an impression on him," she answered, chuckling lightly. "But don't worry, he'll soon warm up to you. Deep down, I think he already has. You should've seen him when he first brought you in, he was worried sick." 

"He was?" He asked, surprisingly touched by it. 

"Yeah, he wouldn't leave your side," she recalled, gazing at him fondly.

And though he was hearing this for the first time, deep down, he knew it to be true. He could remember someone talking to him, telling him he would be alright. At the time, his subconscious thought it had been a guardian angel, assigned to him to keep him safe. Now, he knew that angel had sounded suspiciously like Merlin. Of course, he would rather fall on his sword than admit this to him, but still he knew some form of 'thank you' was in order.  

So when Merlin came in for lunch, hair sticking to his face with the sweat and grime of his morning chores, he knew he couldn't miss his chance.  

"Hey, I guess I never got the chance to say thank you…for saving my life. I probably wouldn't have made it if you hadn't found me that day," he said earnestly. But still Merlin eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you trying to charm me like you did with my mother?" Merlin raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I know she gave you the good cheese."

"No, really, I mean it," he tried to sound sincere, despite the smile playing at his lips.

"Well, it was nothing," Merlin said, suddenly flustered by the unexpected praise. "If I didn't, probably some other cheeky peasant would."

"Yeah, probably," he chuckled lightly as he gazed into his eyes.

There was something about Merlin, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

“I have to leave to run some errands," Hunith announced, breaking the moment away. "Are you two going to be alright?” She asked, turning to Merlin. “You’ll stay out of trouble until I get back, won’t you?” 

“Yes, Mum,” Merlin replied, clearly embarrassed that she was doing this in front of him. 

It wasn’t difficult to gather that Merlin was a troublemaker. But still, there seemed to be something else there other than motherly concern. An unspoken secret, an understanding, something that he probably shouldn’t wish to be a part of, and yet he did. 

“What are you staring at?" Merlin asked defensively once he caught him staring. "Don’t you royal types have worried mothers as well?”

No, not all of them do. He thought.

But he didn’t reply, he didn’t want to give Merlin something to pity him about.

"So…I'm going to be out with Will," Merlin announced awkwardly once Hunith was gone. "Just…try not to be a dollophead while I'm gone, yeah?"

"A what?"  He asked perplexed. He was sure Merlin was just making up words at this point. 

But Merlin was gone with a winning grin before he could ever find out what that was. Still, he couldn't help but feel offended by that, already thinking of his next comeback. 

After they both left, Arthur figured there was no more point in delaying the inevitable. He had to tell his father about what happened before he sent a search party through all the five kingdoms and a war declaration to half of them. So he reached for the paper and ink that Hunith had supplied and readied himself to tell his father of the unsuccess of his mission.

This was the part he hated the most about returning home after a failed mission. But at least, this time, he wouldn't be there to be shouted at in person. Small blessings, he supposed. 

Still, he couldn't find the words to tell him, the ink drying in his quill before ever meeting the parchment. The fact that he had one arm immobilised didn't help matters either. If he was any less proud, he would ask Merlin to write it, but he didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Besides, Merlin had gone out with his friend and who knew when he would be back.

In an effort to distract himself, he wondered what Merlin and his grumpy friend were doing at the moment, what he did when he wasn't too busy torturing him. He seemed to spend most of his days with that boy - Will, it seemed - which was none of his concern really, but he didn't like to feel excluded. He also missed having someone around his age to talk to, no matter how lacking Merlin's conversational skills may be. 

He really thought that having Merlin out of the house would finally allow him to concentrate on his writing. But turns out the peace and quiet did nothing to help him focus and, before he knew it, half an hour had passed and he still hadn't written anything on the parchment. 

Of course, that was when Merlin chose to come in. 

"What are you doing?" Merlin peeked over his shoulder. 

"Writing to my father," he replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant.  

"You don't seem to be doing much writing," Merlin pointed out. "Are you sure you know how to write?" He teased as he sat on the stool across the bed, because apparently he had nothing better to do. 

A normal person would've offered to write it for him because of his injury or status, but he had already established that Merlin wasn't a normal person. In fact, he was unlike anyone he had ever met. 

"Shut up, I'm concentrating," he retorted, only pretending to be annoyed. 

And Merlin did. For a whole of three seconds, before clearing his throat and chiming in again. 

"I'm sure he'd just be glad to hear you're safe," Merlin said with a sympathetic smile. He could tell he was just trying to be helpful, but he really didn't know what he was talking about. 

"Yeah, that's because you don't know my father," he let out with a dry chuckle. That came out wrong. "He's not that bad, he just…has a lot of expectations for me, for Camelot," he felt the need to clarify. 

And that seemed to shut Merlin up for a while, which was a shame because he found that he quite liked Merlin's prattle. He should've never brought up his father. Thankfully, Merlin didn't seem able to keep quiet for very long.  

"How is it like? Camelot?" Merlin asked after a while.

"You've never been there?" Arthur asked, glad for the change of subject.

Merlin shook his head. "I've never been further than these woods."

It was hard to imagine Merlin not knowing the world beyond his small village, but with his mother and livelihood secured here, he supposed he never had a reason to leave. So he made sure to paint him a nice picture of Camelot, one that would make him travel there.  

"Oh, I'm sure you'd love it. The citadel is beautiful. Every building, every street, has a life of its own. And when the sun sets, it reflects in the white towers, illuminating the whole city in a golden glow," he recalled, already longing for home.

"It sounds lovely," Merlin said with a spark in his eyes he had never seen before.  

"It is," he confirmed, suddenly eager to tell him more. 

"Do you miss it?" Merlin asked earnestly, catching him off guard. 

"Oh, every minute of every day," he admitted. Though he didn't mention how he often felt trapped there, like he could hardly breathe under the expectations everyone had for him. "But I travel a lot on missions and patrols. It's what's needed to keep the kingdom secure, what's expected of me."

"I see." Merlin's gaze shifted to his wound. "That's how you ended up-"

"Yeah," he confirmed, trying his best not to wince as he shifted on the pallet. "Cenred's patrol must have caught right on to us before we even crossed the border."

Merlin looked like he was about to say something but then he trailed back, his eyes lingering on the wound. He suddenly felt rather exposed under Merlin's gaze, like he would see right through his tough act and start pitying him again. He couldn't have that. He needed to say something, anything, to take that look off Merlin's face.  

"What about you? Have you always lived out here?" 

What kind of question was that? Of course, he had. He was a peasant, it's not like he had a choice. Although, he couldn't say he had much of a choice either. Luckily, Merlin didn't seem too offended by the question. 

"Pretty much," Merlin replied plainly, eyes finally leaving his wound.  

"It must have been…hard?" Arthur tried to gauge for a reaction, suddenly remembering his comment about the food from earlier. 

"Not really," Merlin replied. "I never knew any different. Life's simple out here. You eat what you grow and everyone pitches in together. As long as you've got food on the table and a roof over your head, you're happy," he explained.

"Sounds…nice," he replied, surprised that it actually did.

Arthur had never thought of himself as the farmer type, but maybe he would find joy in a simpler life.

"You'd hate it," Merlin retorted.

"No doubt," he replied, thinking better of it.

They both chuckled, finally agreeing on something.

And that conversation with Merlin gave him the courage he needed to start working on his letter.

~

Dear Father, 

I regret to inform you that our mission to the western border didn't go according to plan, for we were ambushed by Cenred's men. As for me, I have found myself retained in the small village of Ealdor in the border of Cenred's kingdom by a shoulder injury, but I am safe. I've been taken in by kind people, who have offered me the shelter and medical attention I need, and I plan to return home as soon as I'm physically able to.

Your dutiful son,

Arthur 

~

"I'm all done," he announced after he was finished with the letter. It took him quite some time without his good arm, but he would take that over asking Merlin for help any day.

"Great, I will take it to our messenger first thing in the morning," Hunith told him with a warm smile. "But now you should rest," she advised him. After all, he would need to do a lot of that if he wished to return home any time soon.

"Goodnight, Arthur," she said as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. 

And there it was again. That unfamiliar warmth of a kiss to his forehead that made him feel all fuzzy and soft inside. It felt so natural for her, but he didn't understand why she was doing this. Why was she being so kind to him? He was just a stranger. He didn't deserve this.

"Goodnight, cariad," she said as she repeated the same gesture to her son.

And for a brief moment, he felt almost jealous, that Merlin got to grow up with this, that he never knew what it was to live without.   

"Goodnight, mum," he replied, sleep already clinging to his tone.

"Goodnight, dollophead," Merlin then turned to him unexpectedly.

This was all new to him. Goodnights and forehead kisses. But he could get used to this.  

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Arthur tried his best to be the perfect patient. He had slept, he had rested, he had even eaten the slop Merlin served him without complaining. And his shoulder was improving, slowly but steadily.

But he wasn't used to this, to standing still. And the slow exercises Hunith had recommended for him to regain motion in his right shoulder weren't enough anymore. He needed to feel the hilt of a sword in his hand, the thrill of twirling it at the wrist. Without the weight of it in his right hand, he felt uneven, unbalanced. 

So he discreetly reached for the sword hidden with the rest of his armour and tentatively fiddled with it in his hand, relishing in the feeling of it, in the balance of the blade. Hunith wouldn't be back for a few hours, and Merlin had gone out with Will, which should allow him a fairly decent time to practise alone.

Unfortunately, his shoulder wasn't being cooperative, and the smallest twirl of his wrist sent a jolt of pain running up his arm, forcing him to let out an audible groan. And that's when Merlin decided to come in.      

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked pointedly. 

"Nothing," he replied, sheepishly hiding the sword behind his back. 

He knew that if Merlin caught him with it, he would never hear the end of it. 

Unfortunately, that movement also elicited a small groan, leading Merlin straight to the cause of the problem. 

"I thought my mum had hidden that away," Merlin said after coming behind his back and confiscating his sword. 

"Yeah, like I'd only bring one sword," he retorted without thinking.

"Arthur…" Merlin fixed him with a disapproving look he had come to respect for some reason.

"That's the only other one, I swear," Arthur said as he raised his hands in mock defeat.

It wasn't. But Merlin didn't need to know that.

"So I take it that means you're feeling better?" Merlin asked, eyeing him suspiciously. 

"Yeah, I should be able to return home in no time," he lied, straightening himself. His short practice run had awakened some deeper pain in his shoulder, but he would die before letting Merlin know that. "Ow!" He yelped as someone pinched his shoulder from behind.

"Liar," Merlin said drily. "Come on, let me spread some salve in that."

"You don't have to do that," Arthur replied, feeling suddenly sheepish. 

"My mum is away running some errands today, she won't be home until sundown. Just…let me," Merlin insisted. And so he did. 

He raised his arms and Merlin swiftly removed his tunic with the easied practice of someone who had been doing it all his life, instead of just the past few days. It felt almost natural, to be touched by Merlin like this. Each touch lingering, the cold balm spreading a chill against his skin. And, although his words were harsh, Merlin's hands were gentle, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder and back. Usually he was able to quip back at him, but not when they were like this. He always felt too vulnerable, too exposed, to be anything but honest. 

"Why do you have to make everything so difficult for yourself?" Merlin whispered as he applied the balm up and down his shoulder in a soothing motion. "Why can't you just stand still?"

"Because…I'm bored," Arthur replied in earnest, knowing full well Merlin would laugh at him.

"You're bored?" Merlin asked amused. "Of lying around?"

"Yeah," he admitted with a huff. "I'm a battle-hardened warrior, I'm not meant to stand still. I should be fighting bandits, slaying beasts…not lying away in a cottage all day."

"And you will get to do all those things again," Merlin reassured him in a surprisingly tender tone.

"Yeah, but now I can't even hold a sword. I just feel so…useless," he confessed, more honest than he intended, as Merlin kept rubbing soothing circles down his shoulder and back.

"Well, there's plenty of chores to do around here if you ever want to feel less…useless," Merlin reminded him, probably tired of hearing him feeling sorry for himself. He didn't blame him, he must sound awfully privileged.

"Like what?" He indulged him.    

"Collecting eggs, tending the sheep, toiling the fields, fixing up fences…" Merlin supplied.

"I could do that," he thought out loud. 

"Yeah, right." Merlin chuckled. "Have you ever done a day's work in your life?" He asked amused.

He had been working practically all his life, thank you very much. Just not farming work. Though he had always imagined, in his inner most thoughts, that he would be good at it, would even enjoy it, someday when he retired, if kings did such a thing.  

"Come on, how hard can it really be. If you can do it, anyone can," he teased him instead.

"Very well. Where do you want to start?" Merlin asked promptly, taking him seriously for once.

"Where would you start?" He quipped back, never one to back away from a challenge.

"Alright," Merlin began, actually giving it some thought. "I suppose I would start by collecting the eggs from the chicken, bright and early. That should be easy enough for you, right? How familiar are you with chicken?"

"Oh, I love chicken," he replied with a cocky grin.

"Good, then you will get along great," Merlin replied amused. "All you have to do is go into the coop, collect the eggs and put them into that basket."

"That doesn't sound that hard," he said, picking up the basket from Merlin.

As it turns out, once he got into the coop, it was an entirely different story, and he soon found that chickens were vicious creatures. 

"I should have warned you, they're pretty protective of their eggs around nesting season. Do you still think you can manage alone?" Merlin asked from outside.

"I've fought gryphons, Merlin. I'm sure I can handle some chicken," he replied struggling.

But as always he emerged victorious, and those chickens would rue the day he entered into their coop.

“I did it!” He said as he emerged from the coop moments later with a triumphant grin.

He was also covered in feathers and yolk stains but that was beside the point. 

“Congratulations, Arthur. Next time just try not to scare them off so much. Or you might end up becoming one of them," Merlin teased as he plucked a feather from his hair. 

And, as Merlin gently plucked the rest of the feathers from his hair, he thought that maybe he could do this, maybe he could become a farmer. Not that that was in his immediate plans, but if he ever got the chance to buy some land in a far-off place, then he wouldn't be completely helpless. Obviously, he'd take Merlin with him. He could do most of the hard work. 

"So what's next?" He asked when Merlin was mostly done. 

"A wash, probably?" Merlin teased.

"I mean it, I want to help," he said earnestly. 

A part of him was doing it simply because he wished to repay Hunith's kindness, but deep down, he longed for something more. He would never admit this to Merlin or to anyone, but sometimes he longed for the kind of life he had, to be able to sow the fields and watch them grow, to be…just Arthur.   

"You're serious about this?" Merlin asked in disbelief.

"It's better than lying around," he retorted.

"Alright, come with me then," Merlin replied still somewhat surprised.

To his surprise, Arthur was genuinely invested in learning more about his tedious daily chores. He supposed they would be rather interesting to someone who didn't have to do them every day. Or ever. Arthur seemed to be so out of his element that it was almost pitiful, but still he approached each task he gave him with a childlike curiosity. He was still terrible at them, but in a way that was almost endearing. 

"What's he doing?" Will asked when he saw Arthur herding the sheep in the direction of the pen. Or at least trying to.

"Helping…I think," he replied amused. For most of the day, he just stood and watched, only intervening when Arthur's pride was wounded enough to ask for help.

"And you let him?" Will asked with an outraged expression.

"He was complaining about being bored," Merlin explained, knowing Will would instantly understand.

"Oh," Will nodded, his face changing into a mischievous grin. "Tell him to clean the pigpen next, then."

 Arthur was halfway started with the pigs, when his mother got home and shot both of them a disapproving look. 

"Merlin…" She called in a disapproving tone. 

"Yes?" He replied, doing his best innocent look. 

"Did you trick Arthur into doing your chores?"

"He was the one who said he wanted to help," he attempted to defend himself. Behind him, Will did a poor job at hiding an amused grin. "In my defence, the pigsty was Will's idea."

"Come on, Arthur, you don't have to do this," she said as she ushered Arthur inside.

"It's alright, I don't mind," Arthur replied, his trousers half-covered in mud.

"Still, you shouldn't be abusing your shoulder. Come on, let's get you inside," his mum ushered him in, casting the two of them a disapproving glare. "You can help me prepare dinner, if you'd like."

But that wasn't the end of Arthur's farming endeavours. As the days got warmer and Arthur started feeling better, he began helping around a lot in the village. Tending the sheep, repairing fences,... He had even started playing swordfighting with the village children, which was... impossibly sweet for some reason. And almost everyone was grateful for the extra help of their mysterious guest. Well, everyone except Will.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t think this is a good idea?” Will asked as they looked at the scene.

“He’s just helping around. What’s the harm in that?”

“He’s getting too involved and putting us all in danger. If these people knew who he really was, then we’d all be charged with treason for harbouring him here.”

“Then it’s a good thing they don’t know, isn’t it?" Merlin said, raising him an eyebrow. "Look, Arthur is only going to be here for a short while, so in the meantime, why don’t you try to be friends? He’s not as much of a prat as he looks.”

“Yeah, like he’d ever be friends with the likes of us,” Will retorted.

“He’s my friend,” he defended, surprising himself a little bit.

“Is he? So he knows about your secret, then?” 

“It’s not that simple,” he tried to explain.

“Face it, Merlin, you're living a lie. Do you really think he’d still be your friend if he knew your secret?”

But he didn't reply, he just lowered his head. Deep down, he knew Will was right.

“That’s what I thought." Will took that as his answer. "Trust me, Merlin, the sooner he's on his way, the better it'll be for all of us.”

Chapter Text

Arthur was finally finding his place in Ealdor. He helped the villagers tend the fields, he fixed whatever needed fixing, he had even started hunting in the nearby forest with some rudimentary traps. And he felt like he finally understood what Merlin was talking about in one of those first nights, about pitching in and the happiness that came with leading a simple life.

For more than once in the past week, he wished that he didn't have to leave. But he knew that wasn't possible, his duties in Camelot were far too important to ignore and sooner or later he would have to go back. Perhaps it was foolish of him to get so attached to these people, but he couldn't help it. It felt good to be a part of something. 

“I caught rabbit today,” he announced with a grin as he got home. 

“Oh, that's great, Arthur," Hunith praised him, and he couldn't help the way it made him feel soft inside. "I'll start preparing it right away,” she said, reaching helpfully to take it away from his hands and start preparing the meat for lunch. But, for some reason, he felt compelled to stop her. 

“No, there's no need. I'll cook for you today,” he said, suddenly overly confident in his nonexistent cooking skills.

“Are you sure?” She asked surprised. 

“Yeah," he replied, also trying to convince himself. "You've already done so much for me since I got here, you deserve the rest. Maybe go for a nice walk or something? Lunch will be ready when you return,” he told her, once again overselling his cooking skills.

“Oh, that's very kind of you, Arthur,” she replied, still somewhat unsure as he ushered her towards the door.

Minutes later, Will came inside, bearing a catch of his own. It was quite modest, but he couldn't blame him. These woods didn't seem to have much game, and maybe he wasn't an experienced hunter. 

"I brought some pigeon for lunch," he told her as he came through the door.

It wasn't as good as rabbit, but any meat seemed to be a rarity around these parts. 

"Oh, that's great, honey, but Arthur already took care of lunch," she informed him with a tight smile. "Maybe we can have those for dinner?" She suggested, trying to keep the peace. 

"Sure," Will replied, slightly glaring at him.

He was becoming more and more obvious with his glares. Arthur would offer to give him some hunting tips, but he didn't think that would help. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get Will to like him. It was annoying, actually, because back home even when people didn't like him, they at least had the decency to pretend that they did.   

But Will didn't stay for long - he never did when he was around the house - and Hunith soon followed.    

Before he knew it, it was just him and the rabbit. Now, he just had to figure out how to cook a rabbit. 

Merlin had barely been out of the house for a couple of minutes, and already his mother was walking towards him with a troubled expression.  

“Ah, mother. Where's Arthur?” He asked, somehow sensing he had something to do with it.

“He's…cooking us lunch,” she replied with an appropriately alarmed expression. 

Unbelievable, he had left Arthur alone for five minutes, and he was already threatening to burn down their kitchen.

“Arthur's cooking?” He asked surprised, and they immediately shared a look of understanding. “I’ll go check on him.”

“Good," she said, her shoulders dropping with relief. "Just don’t tell him I sent you."

Merlin nodded, turning to head home. 

"And Merlin?” She called out when he was already on his way.

“Yes?” He replied, turning back.

“Be nice to him?" She asked him. "He's really trying to do something kind for us.”

“I know,” he replied with a fond smile. That dollophead, really was trying, wasn't he?

But despite Arthur's best intentions, he feared what he might find once he walked through that door. Maybe it was already too late; he had already burned down the house. They would have to move out, find another home, maybe even move to another village. But, as he approached the house, he didn't smell smoke, so he took that as a good sign.

Instead, when he got there, Arthur was staring at the rabbit, holding up its legs as if he was doing some elaborate number of rabbit gymnastics. It would actually be more funny if Arthur didn't look so clueless. Merlin could bet he had never cooked anything in his life. He could actually see the cogs turning in his head.

"Careful, don't think too much, you might hurt yourself," Merlin teased as he walked in.

“Ah, Merlin!" Arthur turned to him with a grin, not even bothering to return his insult. "Thank God, you’re here!”

“My mum told me you were cooking,” he said with a judgemental look.  

“Yeah, about that-” Arthur began, but he didn't have to finish that sentence.

“You don’t know how to cook, do you?”

“No,” Arthur confessed with a sheepish expression.

It shouldn't be adorable how incompetent he was. 

“I figured,” he said dryly. “Just…pass me the knife, will you?" He asked, and Arthur did it right away, which was new because he rarely did what he was told. He must have really needed help. "So you actually have to skin it and take off the insides first before you cook it,” he explained, driving the knife under the skin under Arthur's watchful gaze.  

“Of course. I knew that,” Arthur scoffed. 

"Of course you did," Merlin teased, sending him a cheeky grin.

Unsurprisingly, Arthur turned out to be a danger in the kitchen, and he thought it best to keep him away from all sharp objects unless he was in a training field. That didn't mean he wasn't going to keep trying to sneak knives from him, though, so he settled on putting Arthur in charge of cutting the carrots so he would feel important. He figured if he lost a finger, that wouldn't be much trouble.  

They were fighting over who got to peel the potatoes for the stew when Will came in. 

"Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go-" Will began asking as he came through the door, but then stopped in his tracks after seeing Arthur.

"Oh, I'd love to," he replied, not really knowing what he was saying no to, "but I have to help Arthur out. You know, so he doesn't burn down the house." He gestured towards Arthur's appalling cooking skills, promptly being elbowed in response. "Ow!"

"Of course, you do," Will retorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, sensing some hostility from Will.

"Nothing. Just…go back to Arthur," he replied, getting ready to leave. But then, for some reason, he set his eyes on the rabbit they were cooking. "Where did you catch that?" He asked, suddenly turning his attention to Arthur. 

"I caught it just across the river. Pretty cool, huh?" Arthur replied with an excited grin, foolishly thinking that Will was taking an interest in his hunting skills.   

"We're not allowed to hunt on that side of the forest," Will informed him none too gently. "It's called poaching, you know? People get arrested for that."

"I didn't know," Arthur replied sheepishly, all his excitement gone. 

"Of course you didn't. Because you're just used to doing whatever you want," Will began his usual anti-noble spiel, this time with an added passion. "But guess what? Here we have rules we have to follow. So, unless you want to draw attention to yourself, which I'm sure you don't, I wouldn't do that." 

Arthur, of course, felt called out, as he always did when Will went on one of his rants, but this time Will was taking it too far. 

"He got it, Will," he spoke up to defend him. "Let it go."

Not that Arthur needed defending, he just looked like a kicked puppy each time it happened, and he couldn't bear to look at him like that.

But Will seemed to get the message and left shortly after that. 

"He really hates me, doesn't he?" Arthur asked quietly after Will left. 

"He's…not your biggest fan," Merlin tried to put it nicely. "But Will hates a lot of people. Believe me, you're probably not that high on the list."

"I'm pretty sure I'm number one," Arthur replied dryly as he kept working on the carrots. 

"Oh, he'll get over it. He always does," Merlin reassured him, though he wasn't so sure of that.

Will was just returning from a morning working the fields, the midday sun already burning at his head and making him eager for a comforting meal. That's when he entered the house and remembered exactly who had been cooking it, realising he was more likely to get food poisoning than anything resembling comfort. Still, he glanced at the food on the table, contemplating how hungry he really was. 

"If he cooked it, I'm not eating that," he declared for self-preservation. 

"Don't worry, I did most of the cooking. He just cut the carrots," Merlin gladly informed him as he poured him a plate. 

"Hey, the carrots are a very important part of the dish!" Arthur protested because, of course, everything had to be about him. 

Will couldn't say that the reason he had started taking up more work in the fields on the far side of the village was to avoid the self-centred prat.  

"Of course, they are, sweetie," Hunith patted him on the back.

Great, now even Hunith was pampering to him. He was almost contemplating taking his plate outside and eating on the go, when he realised where Arthur was sitting. He had done his best to hold his tongue so far, but this was enough. 

"You're in my spot," he said through gritted teeth, glaring at Arthur sitting at the head of the table. The spot that had always been his, the spot they had carved for him in their home, ever since his father died and he started coming around for dinner.

Merlin sent him an apologetic look. He hadn't even noticed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Arthur replied, and he truly sounded apologetic.

But he hadn't let out all his anger yet.

"You never know, do you? You just assume everything is yours," he snapped. He had spent years carving out this space for himself, building a home here, and now he was just taking it all away. 

"I can move if you want," Arthur offered. But that wasn't really the issue, was it? He needed him to leave. 

"That's alright, I'm sure Will can sit in this stool for today, right?" Hunith asked patiently, patting the stool by her side. 

"Right," he conceded, taking the seat. 

Just a few more days, he thought. Then that prat would be on his way.

After lunch, Merlin barely looked at him. He was too busy fawning after Arthur as they did the dishes. He was being ridiculous. Laughing at his stupid jokes, splashing water on his face...He was behaving like a lovestruck girl. But the worst part was they were both so oblivious that even if he pointed it out, they probably still wouldn't see it. So he decided to test it out.

"Hey, Merls, when you're done flirting, I need help with the barn roof."

And, just like he suspected, Merlin didn't hear a word, didn't even bat an eye at him.

Instead, Arthur was the one to reply, "I can help."

"Of course you can," he muttered under his breath. 

Great. Now he had just condemned himself to at least half an hour with the pompous prat.

Arthur had volunteered to help Will in an effort to keep the peace, but it didn't seem to be working, seeing as he kept tossing wooden planks and tools at him. 

"Here," he said, tossing him some planks of wood, "Hold this." 

“I’m sorry, do you have some kind of a problem with me? Cause I'm starting to get the feeling that you don't really want me here,” he finally confronted him. 

"Oh, really? What gave you that impression?" Will retorted.

"Cut it off," Arthur replied. "Just tell me, have I done something to you?" He asked earnestly.

And that seemed to be the trigger Will needed to come down on him.

“Merlin actually used to be my friend before you got here, you know that?" He blurted out, giving him the feeling that he had been holding that in for quite some time. "Things were actually great before you showed up. Now, even when he’s not with you, all he does, all he talks about is… Arthur," he continued, accentuating his name with a roll of his eyes. "And he's not the only one. You think you can just do a couple of jobs around town and then suddenly everybody likes you?" He asked, not really waiting on his answer. "You don’t belong here,” Will reminded him as if that wasn't clear enough.

And, no matter how harsh Will was being, he knew he was right. He knew he would eventually have to leave. He just didn't know what that had to do with Merlin. 

“I don’t understand. What does this have to do with Merlin?” He asked aloud.

"You really don't see it, do you?" Will asked, looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

"See what?" He asked oblivious.

"God, you're even more hopeless than he is," Will said exasperated, which still didn't answer his question. “Look, you may have him fooled, but I know what you are… you’re just a pompous noble like the rest of them, and eventually you're going to get tired of hanging around people like us. So why don't you just spare him the heartbreak and go home?" 

Heartbreak? What was he talking about?

"I don't understand what you're still doing here anyway. You’re well enough to ride a horse," Will pointed out, glancing at his shoulder. "Shouldn’t you be on your way to Camelot by now? Or are you just enjoying playing peasant too much?”

“I’m not playing peasant," he snapped. "I’m just…trying to give back.”

But deep down, he knew Will was right. There was something, or rather someone, keeping him here.

He just couldn’t help it, he had never met anyone like Merlin before. Anyone that talked back to him, that didn't bend over backwards to adhere to his every word. And it was refreshing. Here, he could be just like everyone else; he could be just Arthur.  And he feared that if he went back to Camelot, there would be no escape; he’d just be Prince Arthur again. And he wasn’t ready to stop being Arthur just yet.   

“Admit it, you’re just here because of him," Will confronted him, and his silence spoke for him. He couldn't deny it. "But, listen, you may think you know Merlin-” 

“I know Merlin,” he cut in, of that Arthur was sure.

“You don’t, you really don’t," Will stressed. "And when you do, you’re just going to break his heart, so why don’t you get your noble ass on a horse and ride back to Camelot already?” Will said on edge, clearly about to reveal something he shouldn't. 

But he didn't press him. It was clear it was something important by how serious he was. 

Still, he couldn't help but wonder, What could someone like Merlin possibly be hiding?   

After living in such close proximity with him for days, he really thought he knew Merlin. But maybe he was wrong about him, maybe he was wrong about a lot of things.  

"Alright," he said in a small voice. 

"Alright? That's it? You're leaving?" Will asked shocked.

"Look, I don't want to cause any trouble. This is your village, if you think I should leave, I'll leave," he said defeated. He had fought enough battles to know when to quit one.  

"Alright, ride safe, then," Will said, still somewhat surprised. It seemed like he was about to walk away, but then he turned back. "Just…do me a favour, will you? Don't tell Merlin about this. He would hate me forever if he knew I had something to do with you leaving."

There was a silent pleading in Will's eyes; he knew he was asking for too much.

"I won't," he promised. He had always considered himself a good sportsman.      

Still, he couldn't quite face Merlin when he got back into the house, Will's words echoing in his head. 

"How did it go?" Merlin asked brightly as he saw him come in.

"Fine," he said dryly, not meeting his eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Merlin asked, concern suddenly flooding his features. And in that moment, he hated himself for being so easy to read. "Is it your shoulder? Let me take a look."

"No, I'm fine. I'm just…tired," he lied. He was getting too comfortable around him, around Merlin's touch. "I think I'll lie down for a bit."

"Alright, then. Let me know if you need anything."

So he lied down and stared at the ceiling as he contemplated his future. Maybe Will was right. Maybe he had overstayed his welcome and it was time for him to leave. After all, his shoulder was recovering nicely and there was no rational reason for him to stay. Not to mention the duties he had been neglecting back home for days because he was too busy 'playing peasant', as Will put it. Tending sheep, mending fences...what was he thinking?  He was a soldier. He had a kingdom to defend, people who depended on him. He couldn't afford to be out here...enjoying the sun. He needed to get back. 

So he set out to tell Hunith that evening. He prepared her a nice dinner - well, Merlin did most of the cooking, he wasn't really allowed near the kitchen anymore - and afterwards he offered to help her with the dishes as he laid out the groundwork for their conversation.

"Are you sure about this?" She asked once he was finished. "You know you can stay for as long as you need," she added, which only made it harder to leave.

"I am," he said undeterred. He knew he couldn't impose on her for much longer. "I've already abused your hospitality for long enough."

"Nonsense. It's no trouble, really," she reassured him, and bless her soul because she actually seemed like she meant it. In fact, she seemed almost sorry to see him go/leave.

But even if she meant it, he knew it couldn't have been easy to have an extra mouth to feed for these past days.  

"Besides, my father should be expecting me soon."

"Alright, if that's what you wish. I'll start preparing provisions, and I'll speak to Matthew about securing you a horse for your journey."

"Thank you, Hunith. You've helped me in more ways than you know."

Now, he just had to tell Merlin, then he could be on his way. Or perhaps it was best not to tell him, to ride in the night before his courage deserted him, and he took one look at him and decided to stay. Or even worse, do something foolish like ask him to leave with him. But before he could make up his mind, the clatter of armour was heard through the village. Soldiers, he knew instinctively. A dozen of them by the sound of it.  

"Quick, hide! Merlin will show you the way," Hunith ordered, suddenly serious, and he followed, knowing all too well the consequences of not following such an order.

If Cenred discovered him there, he wouldn't be coming home anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Merlin led him to the back of the house, and pulled up a curtain hanging in the middle of the room, creating a makeshift backroom that would keep them hidden from view, but was still close enough to the back door if they needed to escape. He didn't know why, but he got the feeling that Merlin was used to doing this.

“Who is it?” Merlin whispered as he ushered him inside. 

One glance at the small window above them confirmed his suspicions. The soldiers outside marched proudly with the symbol of a dark snake on their chests. Arthur would recognise that crest anywhere.

“Cenred’s men,” he replied, anger flaring up. Even here, they had managed to find him. “He must have gotten word of my stay here.” 

"Arthur's right," Hunith peeked through the curtain. “I don't know what business they have in Ealdor, but it's probably best if you delay your leave,” she advised mindfully.

“Of course.” Arthur nodded, only later realising his plans to leave had just been exposed to Merlin.

“You're leaving?” Merlin turned to him with a pained expression. 

Arthur swallowed. He knew he shouldn't have kept this from him. 

“Well, obviously not now,” he said dryly. There was no point in having this conversation now.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Merlin asked, still feeling betrayed.  

“Now is not the time, Merlin,” Hunith cut in, saving him from answering. “You stay hidden, the both of you. I’ll handle them.”

“But mother-” Merlin protested. 

“Stay, Merlin!" She said sternly. "Look after Arthur. They'll be out of here before you know it.”

And, with that, Hunith left them, abandoning their conversation in favour of remaining vigilant by the door. But, as much as he would like to think that was the end of it, he was lucky if he thought being hunted down would get him out of this conversation.

"When were you going to tell me you were planning on leaving?" Merlin whispered into the cool evening air, arms crossed. He was clearly still upset. 

"Look, I was going to tell you I was just…waiting for the right time," he attempted to brush it off. 

"The right time?" Merlin snapped. "Was that going to be in the middle of the night while you were halfway to Camelot? Why were you in such a hurry to leave anyway?"

"Because, despite what you may think, I have duties to fulfil, people who depend on me…not that you would understand that, Merlin," he snarled back, immediately regretting how harsh he had been. "Besides, some people made it clear that maybe I had overstayed my welcome," he said, a little softer.

"Who? Will?" Merlin took an easy guess. 

"It doesn't matter," he shrugged it off. 

Will was right. If he had left sooner, none of this would have happened. 

"You shouldn't mind what Will says. He's just jealous that now I've got another friend," Merlin said, offering him a weak smile. 

Arthur recognised it for what it was - a truce, a peace offering - but he couldn't take it, not when he was the one to blame for their situation. 

"But he's right," Arthur admitted, lowering his head. "I've caused you nothing but trouble."

"That's not true." Merlin placed a soft hand on his knee, beckoning him to meet his eyes. And when he did, he found nothing but fondness there. "You've done lots of good around here."  

"But I also brought Cenred's men here," he countered. "I've put you all in danger."

"We've dealt with them before, and we will do it again. It will be alright, Arthur. Trust me," Merlin said with unwavering confidence. 

And he didn't know why, but he did. In that moment, he realised that he would trust Merlin with his life.  

Then, a persistent knock was heard at the door, and they both fell into silence. Merlin's hand hadn't left his knee yet, so he raised one of his to meet it, gazing softly into his eyes. If they were discovered, he hoped that at least Merlin would be spared. 

They were going door to door inquiring about Arthur's whereabouts, and she knew that anytime now, they would come knocking at her door. She had her cover story rehearsed; she always had. It almost felt ironic that the one time Cenred's soldiers came knocking at her door, it wasn't about her son. Still, she didn't want him to go through the same thing she did with Balinor, so she would do anything to protect the boy. 

Finally, the dreaded knock came.

“Good evening, soldiers,” she greeted them, summoning all her courage, despite her racing heart. 

“Good evening, Ma’am," one of the soldiers spoke. "We’ve received word that Prince Arthur has been spotted injured around the woods. He has short blond hair, fair skin and blue eyes. If you or anyone you know has seen him, you should report him immediately.” 

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help. It’s just me and my boy here,” she said, attempting to look meeker. 

“You should know that anyone harbouring the prince will suffer grave consequences,” the knight warned, none too gently.

“As I said, it’s just me and my boy, and he’s already asleep," she stated firmly, praying that the boys wouldn't make any noise in the back. "But good luck on your search, soldiers,” she said in an attempt to send them off. If she had seemed convincing enough, they would have no reason to prolong their visit. 

"Very well," the older knight spoke after a moment. "Goodnight, Ma'am," they said before continuing on their way. 

It was only when they were out of her sight that she could finally breathe again.  

When Hunith returned from the door, Arthur was still holding onto Merlin's hand, only to soothe him, of course. He didn't want him to be scared. But he quickly pulled away under Hunith's attentive gaze.

"It appears you're safe for now…" She told them, visibly more relieved. 

But even Hunith knew that didn't mean he was out of danger just yet. Outside, Cenred's men were still inquiring about him to the other villagers. And he had been seen walking around; people knew what he looked like. It was only a matter of time until someone matched him to the knight's description. So, even if Hunith covered for him, he couldn't be sure someone else wasn't going to rat him out. 

"It will be alright," Merlin whispered, sensing his distress. 

He really hoped Merlin was right. Because if Cenred discovered him here, it would be the end of him. 

But to his surprise, the villagers seemed to be dismissing the knights. Each house they passed by would send them off empty-handed. They knocked on every door, and every single villager denied ever recognising the blond stranger they were describing. The conversation went the same every time, until they eventually stomped out of the village. 

It didn't make any sense. These were poor people; they would surely win a handsome reward if they turned him in to Cenred. 

“I don’t understand. Why would they cover for me?” He asked Hunith, once they were out of sight. 

“We’re a small village, we stick together to protect our own,” Hunith replied with a fond smile.

He was astounded by that. He had only been here a short while, and these people already accepted him as one of their own.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” he said, still a bit dumbstruck.

“You can start by saying thank you,” Hunith suggested with a smile, gesturing to the small crowd gathered around their house.

“Come on, you don’t want to keep your fans waiting,” Merlin said, ushering him out the door once it was safe to come out.

Merlin was sure he had never seen that many people outside their house before. And they were all there because of Arthur, because they saw in him the same thing he did. But for a prince, Arthur seemed awfully shy to suddenly find himself surrounded by that many people. Though, he had to admit some of their attention was intimidating.

“I can’t believe Prince Arthur has had one of my famous pies,” Aubrey said.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t had some of mine. Your Highness, you must come to dinner sometime. Matthew and I would love to have you,” Mary offered.

“Of course, I’d be glad to,” Arthur replied to her, flustered.

But as amusing as it was to see Arthur overwhelmed by the sudden attention, he had other things to do. A suspicion he needed to clear out.  

Because, besides him and his mother, Will was the only other person who knew about Arthur's presence here. He was almost certain Will wouldn't be so petty as to alert the patrol on him, but he needed to be sure. So he headed towards Will's house, where he knew he would be hiding from all the Arthur-centric commotion.

“Can you believe these people? They will do anything for a crumb of Arthur's attention,” Will started as he walked in, rolling his eyes.  

“Was it you?” He went right to the point, cutting off his Arthur slender.

“What?” Will asked confused.

“Was it you who alerted the patrol?" He asked bluntly. "I know you don’t like Arthur, but that was a bit too far. He could’ve been in serious danger.”

 “You really think I would do that?" Will asked back, and suddenly he realised he might have been a bit too rash with his accusation.

“Arthur told me about your conversation earlier,” he replied defensively, all his confidence gone. 

"Of course, he did," Will said as he rolled his eyes. "Sure, I wanted him gone, but I wouldn’t be stupid enough to put Ealdor in Cenred’s radar. I care about you, even if you no longer care about me,” he said earnestly, heading outside.

“Will…” He called out, hoping he would turn back, but he never did.

He had made a big mistake, and now he may have lost a friend. The only friend he had here before Arthur showed up. 

Arthur, however, seemed to be making quite a few, he thought as he saw him surrounded by the village mothers. 

“It seems you’re getting quite popular,” he couldn't help but tease when things settled down and they went inside.

“Tell me about it," Arthur scoffed. "In the span of a few minutes I was invited to 4 dinners, 3 lunches and 2 breakfasts.”

“I thought you’d like that, being popular,” Merlin assumed.

“Not really," he replied, sitting on the bed. "I get enough of that back home. To be honest, I was quite enjoying being just Arthur.” 

“Oh, give it a few days," Merlin said, leaning back in bed as well. "Come harvest time, they would’ve all forgotten about the dashing Prince Arthur.”

And he found it adorable how Arthur flushed a little at that.

“Let’s hope you’re right, because I’m not sure if my stomach can take it,” Arthur chuckled lightly as he settled into bed.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't think he could forget Arthur that easily.  

Chapter Text

After the visit of Cenred's men, Arthur had been keeping a low profile, trying his best to stay hidden despite the recent attention. A part of him still resented Arthur for planning to leave without saying goodbye, but deep down, Merlin was glad to have him around just for a little while longer, even if the circumstances were, well, not ideal. Despite that, everything seemed to be slowly coming back to normal. That is, until one morning, a commotion was heard outside. 

Arthur immediately went into high alert, jolting up at the breakfast table.  

“Are those Cenred’s men again?” He asked, trying his best to keep the panic from his voice.

“No, they’re Kanen’s,” his mother replied from the door, though that wasn't any more reassuring.

“Is he back again?" Merlin asked, fearing her answer. 

They had been circling the village for some time, but he didn't think they would be coming back so soon. 

“I’m afraid so,” she replied warily.

"I thought they wouldn’t be coming back after last year.”

Last year, they'd had a particularly bad harvest, even more so after Kanen's visit. They had left practically empty-handed, leaving them to face one of the harshest winters in Ealdor. But still, they insisted on coming back to feed off their hard work.

“We’ll just have to try to reason with them,” she said, not fully convinced by her own words. 

“You know, there's no reasoning with them," he reminded her. No matter how much they pleaded, Kanen and his men were ruthless. "If you're going out there, I’m coming with you,” he said as he rushed to her side, taken over by a sudden urge to protect her. 

“No, you two should stay hidden. I don’t want either of you to get into any more trouble,” she said in a tone that told him there was no use in protesting. Her decision was final.

So he stomped to his familiar hiding place, dragging Arthur along with him. He knew she was right, but he was tired of hiding, tired of cowering away when he knew he could scare Kanen's men off with a flick of his wrist. Well, he didn't know that for sure - his magic was still a bit unpredictable as it was - but he could at least try to hold them off for a couple of days.  

Maybe he was just growing restless. He had been hiding a lot more recently, and it wasn't just because of Arthur's constant presence here - he actually didn't mind that. No, his mother was becoming more protective of him, too, and he didn't understand why. He hadn't done anything irresponsible in days, well, other than bringing Arthur here, but he stood by that.

“Who is Kanen?” Arthur asked curiously, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“He’s been pillaging our village for a few years now,” he told him. "He always turns the place around and doesn't leave until he gets the very last of our harvest."

"That's horrible," Arthur replied, actually sounding appalled by that. "Shouldn’t Cenred do something about that?” 

“We tried to appeal to him, but Cenred cares little for the outlying regions. He's never going to help.” 

“But maybe my father will,” Arthur offered, suddenly hopeful.

“You really think so?” He asked surprised. He didn't know much about Arthur's father, but Uther wasn't actually known for being a benevolent king. 

“Yes," Arthur replied, his confidence unshaken. "I’ll write the appeal myself and stamp it with the royal seal. He won't say no to that.”

“You’d really do that for us?” Merlin asked astonished, realising just how far Arthur was willing to go for them. 

“It’s the least I could do after all you've done for me,” he replied earnestly.

And in that moment, he could see in his eyes just how good a king he would be. Because if he was willing to do so much to help a village that wasn't even in Camelot's territory, then he had no doubt he would move worlds to protect people in need, no matter how far away they lived.  

But before he could say a proper thanks, the tumult increased outside.

They were going through every house, every haystack. Tossing and turning everything they found in the way. The men were trying to protect any food they had left, and the children were taking cover close to their mothers. 

They soon found the stash Matthew had hidden for emergencies, as well. If Kanen's men took that, they would be starving next winter.

"I only kept back what we need to survive," Matthew pleaded, but Kanen's men wouldn't listen. They never did.

They just rode through the village and took what they came for. And he could bet this wasn't the only village they were doing this to. 

Other than Matthew, the village head, no one was standing up to them.

That was, until he heard his mother's voice through the rumble. 

"You can't take our food! Our children will starve! I won't let you do this!" She shouted as she tried to grab the bags of food that Kanen had already taken. "You're not taking any of it!" 

And then he hit her, Kanen hit her, and she fell to the ground. 

Rage instantly filled up his vision. Kanen was going to pay for this. He could feel his magic thundering, prickling under his skin as it coursed through his veins, eager to come out, to turn him into dust. And before he knew it, his vision was blurring and his whole body was beginning to shake in barely controlled rage. It was overwhelming, the surge of power taking over him, and he wouldn’t be able to hold it in for much longer.

He was almost certain he could hear someone calling his name in the distance, but he couldn’t be sure. It didn't matter now. One flick of his wrist, and it would all turn into ash.

But then, a steady hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, soothing him, anchoring him. It was only when he slowly came back to himself, that he realised it was Arthur.

For a moment, he just froze, horrified by what he had almost done. 

And then he feared that Arthur had seen it, the monster inside he had so desperately tried to keep at bay ever since he arrived.

But, as he turned around, in Arthur's eyes he saw nothing but care. So he hadn't seen it, then. 

Instead, he just saw the scared boy frightened for his mother. 

A part of him was glad for that, but another just screamed to be seen. Even if Arthur might not like what he saw.

"It's alright, Merlin," Arthur reassured him, his hand still lingering on his shoulder. "Stand back, I’ll handle him.”

And before he knew it, Arthur pushed him to safety as he launched for the door, pulling a dagger from his boot and aiming it towards Kanen.

It hit the post behind Kanen, but it was still an impressive shot considering he had thrown it with his left hand. 

“Touch her again, and you’ll die,” Arthur threatened as he advanced towards Kanen. 

And in that moment, Merlin was sure he couldn't love anyone more. Arthur had just risked his life to protect his mother, and there wasn't a single trace of fear in his eyes, just fierce loyalty.

"You're going to regret that!" Kanen warned as he dodged the post. "Kill him!" He ordered his men.

But Arthur remained unshaken, making use of a sword that was abandoned on the floor. He was taking one, two men at a time, and all with his less-favoured hand.

Arthur's courage soon inspired him to join him, and before he could think better of it, he was grabbing one of Arthur's swords and stepping out of the house, charging into one of Kanen's men.

Now, Merlin's swordfighting skills were weak at best, but still he charged at them with the confidence of a swordsman. And confidence was half the job, right? 

Wrong. Soon enough, Merlin found himself cornered against a door by a man much larger than him. There was only one thing he could do now.

"Forbearne," he whispered, not really knowing how that ancient word had come to him. 

And before he knew it, the bandit's sword was hitting up, forcing him to drop it. 

When his mother caught sight of him, she vaguely gestured for him to go back inside. But this time he wouldn't listen. He needed to get her out of there first.

Will eventually joined them too, and although they were still vastly outnumbered, they seemed to have put up more of a fight than Kanen was expecting. So he ordered his men to retreat. 

"You'll pay for this with your lives! All of you!" Kanen issued his last threat to the village before he took his leave.

“Does it hurt?” He asked softly as he cleaned his mother's wound. Anger still bubbling inside him at the sight of the bruise. 

“It's just a scratch. It’s no reason for concern, really," she tried to reassure him, but he could see the way she recoiled at the contact of the cold compress. "I could’ve walked away with much worse.”

And the reminder of that only made his blood boil. 

“He can’t get away with this…he just can’t,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“We could track him down, find out where he’s setting up camp, how many men he has…that way we’d be better prepared when he comes back,” Arthur immediately started strategising, and he suddenly felt extremely grateful for having him on their side.    

“No, Arthur. You shouldn’t get yourself involved," his mother quickly put an end to their plotting. "Who knows what they would do if they learned of your identity…" 

"They wouldn't turn him in," Merlin chimed in. "Something tells me they wouldn't want to get into trouble with Cenred as well." 

"Either way, he already said they’d be back in a week's time, there's no reason for us to go seek out trouble,” she said sensibly.

"Then we must be ready to fight back when they do," Arthur replied. 

Once again, it astounded him how ready Arthur was to fight for them, but he was more than willing to join him in that fight.

“I’m gonna make him pay for what he did to you…” He said darkly, a vengeful rage growing inside him.

“Merlin, no," his mother was quick to turn it down, sending him a meaningful look. "It’s too dangerous. I don't want you to fight.”

It was clear she was talking about his magic. She knew it was prone to outbursts when he was in situations of high stress or high emotion, and what had almost happened earlier was just proof of that. He didn't want to do that, he didn't want to use his magic to kill. So he slowly lowered his head in a silent agreement. 

Of course, Arthur had no way of knowing what she meant.

“Maybe for one man…but how many do we have?" Arthur interjected. "In the village, I mean?”  

“About 20, I think," she replied. "But that's without counting in women and children.”

“And how many does Kanen have?” He asked next, already looking like he was hatching some kind of plan. 

“I’m not sure, maybe as many as forty,” she answered.

“Then, we still have a fighting chance,” Arthur said with an optimistic grin. 

And Merlin cursed himself for being so easily won by a set of crooked teeth. 

Now, all that was left to do was pitch Arthur's plan to the villagers, and of course, Will would be the only one to speak against it. 

“No, absolutely not. That's just going to make things worse," Will protested. "And you shouldn't have fought back just then. Now, when Kanen comes back, he'll just be looking for revenge.”

"He saved my life, Will. At least hear him out," his mother pleaded.

"We can't fight against Kanen. He has too many men," Will argued nonetheless.

"So what would you have us do?" Arthur asked, open to suggestions.

"Give him what he wants. Then he'll go away," Will posed, not entirely convinced.

And the villagers promptly showed their disagreement.

"Only until next year," Arthur pointed out. "Those of you who don't starve to death will face him again next harvest! And the harvest after that. The only way he can be stopped is if you stand up to him," Arthur affirmed as the villagers cheered him on.

But still, Will couldn't be persuaded.

"Look, if you want to fight, then go home and risk the lives of your own people, not ours!" Will retorted back.

"He knows what he's doing, Will. We have to trust him," he said, trying to sway him to Arthur's side.

“No thanks. Enjoy playing soldiers, Merlin. When Kanen comes, I'll be out of here,” Will said as he stormed off.

"Will…" He called after him as he followed him into his house. 

Will always did this. Ever since his father died fighting for Cenred's army, he shied away from anything resembling fighting. He was convinced the only reason Will joined them earlier was because he saw how much he was struggling to hold his own.   

"Look, I get it, Will," he started once they were inside the familiar cot, "when I first met Arthur, I was exactly like you. I hated him. I thought he was pompous and arrogant," he told him in hopes of finding common ground.

"Nothing's changed there, then," Will delivered the expected quip.

"But, in time, I came to respect him for what he stands for, what he does," he said with a little more devotion than he intended.  

"Don't fool yourself, Merlin," Will scoffed, rolling his eyes at him. "I've seen how you act around him, like he's the sun. But he's not. He's just a prat with blond hair, and he's going to get us all killed."

"Maybe he isn't. But there's something about him," Merlin told him with an unwavering certainty. He could feel it in his bones, the same feeling he had when they first found him in the woods. "I believe in him, I believe he will be a great king."

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with you?" Will asked. 

It was a perfectly reasonable question. He just wasn't sure if Will would understand the answer.

"I don't know yet," he felt compelled to answer.

It didn't make much sense. And it felt presumptuous to think that someone like him would have any sort of role in Arthur's future, but somehow he knew, deep inside his bones, that it was true. 

Will didn't question it, he just fell silent. He probably thought that he was mad in the head. 

"But I know he can help us," he went back to pleading his case. "He has sent an appeal to his father."

"And you honestly believe Uther will help?" Will scoffed.

He knew the chances were slim, but maybe if Arthur was the one to write it, then he would be able to get through to him. 

"All I'm saying is for you to give him a chance," he tried one last time. 

And, even if his efforts weren't entirely successful, he felt Will's resolve weaken as he mentioned the appeal to Arthur's father. Now, only time would tell. 

Not two days later, Uther's answer arrived. 

Arthur was pacing the cottage back and forth with the letter in hand and a frown that didn't bode well for them.  

“What is it?” Merlin asked, sensing the tension in his shoulders.

“My father’s help isn’t coming,” Arthur reported defeated. “He isn’t sending any weapons, any men, nothing." 

“Why?” He asked, not entirely surprised.

"He says that sending any men to Cenred’s kingdom would be seen as an act of war," Arthur replied, running his hands through his hair. "In fact, he says that me being here would also be seen as such, and he’s sending two of his men undercover to get me back to safety before Kanen gets here.”

“You’re leaving?” Merlin couldn't help the heartbreak in his voice. 

He knew that probably wasn't the main takeaway from Uther's message, but it still stung him the hardest. He couldn't believe Arthur was leaving. 

“Apparently yes, not that I have much choice in the matter," Arthur replied, resentment filling his voice. He then turned to them with the most apologetic expression. "I’m sorry. If it were up to me, I would’ve stayed to help you fight for your village,” Arthur swore, as he knew he would. 

And his mother was quick to reassure him. "We understand, dear, but you must do what your father thinks is best," she told him. "I'll tell you what - why don't we all have a nice dinner tonight, and I'll start preparing some sweet treats for you to take on your journey?"

Merlin smiled. He saw how fast Arthur devoured his mother's honeyed cakes the last time she made them. 

"I'd like that," Arthur said with a fond smile, "I'd like that very much."

"Come on, then. You can help me bake them," his mother said as she headed towards the kitchen, and Arthur followed after her.   

Merlin smiled at the sight of them. It was going to be strange, not having Arthur in the house. And he was going to miss it, he was going to miss it all. Waking up by his side, helping him dress (even though he no longer needed it), fighting in the kitchen, even calling him a dollophead. Especially calling him a dollophead. 

Chapter Text

They were coming to get him today, whatever knights his father had deemed worthy of escorting him back to Camelot. It was insulting, really, that his father thought it at all necessary. He was no longer a child coming home from hunting; he was more than capable of getting on a horse and riding home. Why he hadn't done so already might be the reason for his unwanted escorts, now that he thought about it. Nonetheless, they were coming, and he could almost see them on the horizon.

But when he spotted them in the distance, he couldn't help but feel offended. Instead of two, there were three riders, only two of them wearing proper armour. Had his father really thought that he needed three men to escort him back home? And poorly equipped at that? 

It was only when they got closer that he realised that might not entirely be their mission.   

"Are those your knights?" Merlin asked curiously as he peeked from behind him. He had been hovering over him all morning with the excuse of doing one chore or another, when really he was just curious to see the Camelot party arrive.  

"Hardly," Arthur let out, spotting an exasperated Leon, a fully-armoured Morgana and an apologetic Gwen. 

Merlin was probably wondering if Camelot allowed Lady Knights. It didn't, no matter how many times Morgana had pitched his father the idea. In fact, her being here was probably part of some rebel act in an argument he was too injured to be involved in.    

“Morgana!" He scolded once she was within hearing distance. "What on earth are you doing here?”

“Well, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I?” She replied while taking off her helmet, revealing her perfectly braided hair. She always loved to make an entrance.

“Father is going to kill me when he finds out,” he grumbled, already anticipating the scolding he would get when he got home. Because, of course, he would be the one dealing with the consequences. 

“Not if you get killed by bandits first,” she retorted, dismounting from her horse. 

Feeling hopeless, he turned to Sir Leon then, who was just dismounting as well. “How could you allow this? You were supposed to be in charge until I got back.”

“I warned them not to come, Sire, but the lady insisted,” Leon replied sheepishly.

But he didn't blame him; he knew all too well how persuasive Morgana could be. And deep down, he was just happy to see one of his men unharmed.  

“Well, if you get yourself killed, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he quipped back to Morgana as he greeted Sir Leon with a friendly handshake. He then moved to help Gwen dismount her horse. It wasn't bad enough that she had come, she had also roped Gwen into this. 

“Oh, please, if I’m dead, you’d be dead long ago,” she retorted carelessly, patting him on his good shoulder as he tried his best not to wince.

Oh, she was going to be insufferable the whole time she was here, wasn't she? And just when he was starting to have a nice time… 

But the worst part was that she made him look bad in front of Merlin. That treacherous bastard had been grinning in amusement through their whole interaction.   

“So, the Lady Morgana…” He began later when they were tying in the horses, and he could almost guess where Merlin was going with it.

Despite their many squabbles, he knew Morgana was a beautiful lady, the envy of all the court, and he couldn't deny that. He also knew that, living in a small village, Merlin probably would've never come across such a pretty lady, so she was bound to catch his attention. But she was way out of his league, and it was up to him to remind Merlin of that.  

“Don’t even think about it,” he put a stop to it before Merlin could embarrass himself.

“I wasn’t,” Merlin replied as he raised his hands innocently. “I was just wondering…is she your sister?”

“No," he blurted out, scrunching up his nose. But then he trailed back. "Well, she’s certainly annoying enough to be my sister. But she’s my father’s ward,” he explained. 

“I see,” Merlin replied, though he suspected he didn't see it at all. “It was pretty nice of her to come all the way out here to help, though.”

Of course, Merlin, naive fool that he was, would see it that way. 

“Or pretty foolish," Arthur grumbled, more to himself than to Merlin. "My father will never let me hear the end of this when I get home.”

“But she was the one who decided to come,” Merlin said, understandably confused. Of course, that was the way things were supposed to work, but alas, his father had a different perspective.  

“Yeah, but she’s always pulling up stunts like this, and then I am the one who has to reason with him," he explained. "Just before I left, she tried to smuggle a druid boy out of the dungeons and then, of course, I had to get involved or she would be the one ending up there. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was doing this just to spite him.”

“Don’t be daft, she’s doing this because of you,” Merlin said, and once in a while, he happened to say a wise thing. 

“Yeah, maybe," he conceded. "It was still pretty foolish of her, though.”

Nonetheless, he was grateful that she was here.

"Come on, Morgana, out with it. What are you really doing here?" He asked her once he caught her alone.

Merlin was helping Gwen and Leon unload their supplies, and, despite everything, he was looking forward to catching up with her, hearing some news of home. 

"I've told you, I'm only here to help," she said, keeping her story, but he could sense there was something else there. "Besides, Uther has been insufferable without you home lately." So there it was.

He sighed, foreseeing the storm that awaited him when he got home. 

"Is he mad at me?" He asked sheepishly, too afraid to admit that was part of the reason he wasn't too eager to return home. 

"For getting injured? Come on, Arthur, not even Uther could be that cruel. He's more furious at Cenred for what he did to the patrol."

"I see," he replied, slightly relieved. "I take it the treaty with Cenred no longer holds?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"As if it ever did," she retorted. They both knew Cenred had always wanted Camelot's throne, and no piece of parchment was going to change that. "I'm surprised he didn't come out here looking for you. He knows you still haven't arrived at Camelot." 

"He actually did," he told her. "Just the other night. But the people, they…protected me," he recalled, still shaken by what happened. 

"You must really be liked around here, then. And I see why you like it here, too. The peace, the quiet, that handsome dark-haired friend of yours," she threw in unexpectedly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he brushed it off with a slight flush.

"Come on, Arthur, you've been staring at his lips ever since we got here," she teased.

"No, I haven't," he said, flustered.

"Yes, you have," she insisted.

"Haven't."

"Have," Morgana said, ending their routine bickering. "It's alright, you don't have to pretend with me. I knew there was a reason you kept rejecting every princess Uther threw at you. Frankly, I'm happy for you. You deserve to have a little fun."

"I'm not- We're not- It doesn't matter. Nothing could ever happen between us," he told her with a sudden sadness.

"Why not?" She asked innocently.

"Because my father-" 

"Your father isn't here, Arthur," she rolled her eyes at him. "And you also won't be here for long. Why not enjoy it while it lasts? Do something for yourself for once. Give him a night he'll really remember."

"Morgana!" He chided her.

 Judging by her vulgarity, no one would say she was a lady of the court. But of course, she only spoke like that when she was alone with him.

"What? I would do it. He's quite charming for a country boy, isn't he?" Morgana commented.

"That he is," he replied, allowing himself to admire him from afar.

But Merlin was much more than that. He couldn't do that to him. Merlin deserved someone loving, someone who would stay, and he couldn't be that for him.

Surprisingly, Merlin was quite enjoying helping them unload their things. Just in a few minutes he had already learned so much about Camelot from their visitors. The people seemed to all be nice as well, especially Gwen, Morgana's maid, whom he had just met.    

"We've brought pauldrons, vambraces, anything we might need," she explained kindly as she was walking him through all the pieces of armour they had brought. 

"Wow, how do you know the names of all that stuff?" He asked amazed.

"Oh, my father's a blacksmith. I know pretty much everything there is to know about armour, which is actually kind of sad," she said sheepishly.

"No, I think it's brilliant!" He said excitedly, eliciting a smile from Gwen.

“So," he began, striking up a conversation, "it was pretty kind of Arthur to send for help even if Uther ended up not allowing it to come. Does he usually do this, help out other villages and people in need no matter how far they live?” He asked purely out of curiosity, of course. 

He knew that it must be the truth, of course, because that was just the kind of man Arthur was. But a small delusional part of him hoped that perhaps he was also doing this for him.

“Oh, yes, he’s always doing this heroic, save-the-world kind of stuff," Gwen confirmed. "He may act like a spoiled child sometimes, but he’s going to be a great king one day,” she added, showing great faith in him.

And that shattered the illusion for him. The very firmly cemented illusion in his brain that Arthur wasn’t just passing by, that he was here to stay. But that was just what it was - an illusion. Because Arthur had a destiny, he had people who depended on him, a role that he was expected to fulfill. And though he didn’t envy the responsibilities Arthur would face as a king, he longed for that too - to have a destiny, and preferably one that would keep him close to Arthur’s side. But that was wistful thinking, he knew there was no such destiny in store for someone like him.   

“Yeah, he will,” he agreed wistfully, staring at him in the distance. “If someone ever teaches him how to stop being a prat,” he quipped, because he couldn't help it.

Gwen chuckled. “Come on, he’s not that bad. He seems awfully nicer since we got here,” she observed.

"It's true, I think my mother's manners might be rubbing off on him," he explained.

"Actually, I think it might be you," she said surprisingly. "I've never seen him talk so freely with anyone," Gwen said, but he couldn't quite believe her.

Surely Arthur would have other friends back home he could talk to like that. Otherwise, he would be quite lonely.

Merlin had been helping them unload their weapons and provisions all afternoon, and now he was off to have tea with his mother. 

"Are they all settled?" She asked as she set out the cups for them. 

"I believe so," he replied while she poured him some tea.

Morgana and Gwen were staying with them on the pallet, while he and Arthur slept on the floor, and Leon was staying in another pallet at Matthew's. He had argued that Arthur should stay on the pallet, as he was still recovering, while they looked for another lodging for the girls, but Arthur being as chivalrous as he was had been firmly against it. 

"So, what do you think of our new guests?" She asked as she settled down herself.

It had been a while since they gossiped over some tea, and he had to admit that he missed it.

"I don't know yet. It's nice to see someone finally sticking it up to Arthur, though," he quipped.

"The Lady Morgana certainly does that," she chuckled in agreement.

"Gwen seems nice too, though Sir Leon seems more guarded," he commented.

"He has been sent here to bring Arthur home safely. It's no wonder he's more focused on the mission at hand," she reminded him.

For a moment, he had almost forgotten that was why they were here. When this was all over, Arthur would have to return home just like the rest of them.

"You're right," he replied, overtaken by an unexpected sadness.

"Still, I see no reason why they shouldn't enjoy their time here," she said more brightly, picking up on his change of mood. "They're doing a great service to our village."     

He supposed she was right. He would have to make the most of it while they were here.

Chapter Text

Arthur began training the men the next day. They had been gathering wood all morning, so they could use the sticks as makeshift swords, and Arthur was now guiding the men through the basic movements. 

"Strike! Parry! Retreat!" Arthur instructed as the men attempted to follow his directions. And then again, "One! Two! Three!" 

It was like seeing Arthur in his natural habitat. Sword in hand, hair gleaming under the morning sun. It was clear he was in his element, teaching the other men to fight, and Merlin wondered how many mornings Arthur had spent like this. Always training, always fighting, never enjoying the sun that lit up his face in the most impossibly flattering way.

He couldn't look away. He had been tasked with sharpening swords and handing out water to the fighters, but he wasn't doing much of that either. He just couldn't help it, Arthur's frame called to him like a moth to a flame. He knew he would get burned, nothing good could come of it, and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. In a moment of weakness, he wished he could just rush over to him, clean the sweat off his forehead, and kiss him gently to ease the burden off his shoulders. But that was a bad idea. Lately, he had been having a lot of those.  

He was almost done with the sword he had been sharpening for the past half hour, when Arthur suddenly started walking in his direction. He immediately panicked. Maybe he had caught him staring, maybe he just needed a break.

Either way, the mischievous look on his face meant trouble. 

“Merlin," Arthur called over to him.

He swallowed hard before replying. “Yes?”

"Come here a second. There’s something I want to show you,” Arthur said suspiciously.

He was heading for the barn they were keeping the weapons in, beckoning him to follow.

“What is it?” Merlin asked once they were inside. 

“Payback,” Arthur said with mirth, not really answering his question. But he soon clarified. “You said you could take me apart with just one blow. Prove it.”

There it was. Arthur had been looking for his chance to prove him wrong. Because, of course, he always had to be right. 

“Arthur…” Merlin shook his head fondly. He knew he couldn't fight him. Well, he could, he just wouldn't win without his magic.   

“Look, I know your mother doesn’t want you to fight, but surely she won’t mind if it’s just us two, right?" Arthur asked, a soft pleading in his eyes. He didn't understand why this was so important to him, but he supposed he had no reason to deny him.

"Now, pick up the sword," he beckoned one last time. "Unless it was all talk…” Arthur teased, because God forbid if he was being vulnerable for more than two seconds. 

Now, Merlin was never much of a swordsman, if the few times Will tried to teach him were anything to go by. But for some reason this was important to Arthur, so he took the bait and picked up the sword against his better judgment.

And surely enough, Merlin was on the floor in seconds. He had to give it to him, though. He had been able to put up some fight before Arthur inevitably knocked him down.

Now, he was sure that, despite his earlier boasting, Merlin was in desperate need of swordfighting lessons. And, even if his mother was against it, Merlin ought to know how to defend himself. After all, he didn't want anything to happen to him when the bandits arrived. 

"Come on," he said, offering him his good arm to help him up. "Let me show you how it's done." 

"It's unfair," Merlin grumbled as he reluctantly took his hand. "You train for this every day."

"Come on, you’re actually not half that bad,” he said in an encouraging tone. The truth is he fared better than some of Arthur's recruits. "It's just a matter of stance," he added, moving in behind him. 

"You see, when you stand like that, you're giving your opponent an advantage," he told him, gesturing at his stance. "What you want to do is…" And before he knew it, he was standing unbearably close to Merlin, guiding his arms and legs into the perfect fighting stance. He didn't know why he was doing this. Most of his knights didn't need a hands-on explanation, and he was not exactly one to believe in special treatment, but Merlin seemed to have an effect on him. So he cleared his throat and pulled away before he could do anything stupid. "Is…something like that."   

"Yeah, but that's if I had a sword. If I didn't, I could totally just strike you where you stand," Merlin began, trying to be contrarian. 

"Oh, yeah? Try me," Arthur dared.

"Arthur…" Merlin tried to call him to reason.

"Come on," he insisted, trying to rouse the fight out of him. If he wanted to prepare Merlin for the attack, he needed to get those survival instincts going. "If you're such a good fighter, prove it." 

And to his credit, Merlin actually launched forward towards him, managing to make him stumble.

Even without his sword, Arthur was quick to get him on his back, only later realising the compromising position that put him in. From this angle, Merlin looked even more gorgeous, and he had to fight every urge not to lean down and kiss him. Thankfully, Merlin beat him to it. It was just a gentle peck, but it was enough to undo any resolve Arthur may have had in winning the fight, leaving him utterly defenceless. Suddenly, he was no longer the hunter; he was the prey, an unwilling victim to a cheeky grin and a pair of blue eyes.

Merlin, of course, seemed pleased at his distraction and took advantage of it by twisting his arm and moving on top of him. Only later, stopping in his tracks when he noticed his hesitance.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what came over me," he said, suddenly flustered.

He didn't know why, but the fact that Merlin was competitive enough to resort to such a move just to beat him, only made him want him more. So he quickly regained control of his motor skills and made quick work of turning him on his back again.

"That's quite alright…as long as you're alright with me doing this," he whispered as he moved swiftly and closed the gap between them, mimicking Merlin's move. 

And that made Merlin instantly relax against his lips, enthusiastically returning the kiss. Maybe it was the rush of battle or the thought that he was going to die, but God, Merlin was a good kisser. 

He smelled of hay, lavender and promise, and Arthur was eager to get him out of that stupid neckerchief he had been wanting to tear off the moment he caught a glimpse of his collarbones.

But of course, these things never came without guilt for him.

“Merlin…You should know that I can’t give you- that we can’t- be together,” Arthur pointed out the obvious.

“Shh…I know. Can you stop being honourable for one second and kiss me?" Merlin grumbled into the kiss. 

And Merlin didn't have to say more.

Everything was going smoothly until they heard a knock on the door. 

"Fuck," Arthur said, pulling away from Merlin's lips. 

"Boys?" Hunith's familiar voice rang through the door. "Enough with the sword practice, dinner's ready!"

"We'll be right up, Mum!" Merlin answered shamelessly as he picked out the hay from his hair.

"You're unbelievable," he scoffed under his breath, but he couldn't afford to keep a straight face for long, and soon he broke into laughter. 

"You look happy," his mother commented after dinner as he helped her with the dishes. "Anything I should know about?"

"Not really. Just...happy to help," he replied, struggling to hide his grin.

Maybe it was the way things had gone earlier, or Arthur's tantalising offer to do it again, pick up where they left off...just to brush up on his swordsmanship skills, of course. Either way, it didn't seem like he needed to tell her anything right away. Although he probably wouldn't have to. He was never able to keep secrets from her for very long.

"Well, whatever it is," she fixed him with a knowing look, "just...be careful."  

Maybe he was being careless, maybe he was playing with fire, but then again he had been doing it his whole life. It’s not like he had done this a lot, making out with boys in barns, apart from awkwardly experimenting with the baker's son some years back. But with Arthur, it was different. It was more urgent. Like the world would stop moving if they pulled away from each other.

“Merlin…Merlin…" Arthur called to him inbetween kisses. "We should stop. Go back to training. Your swordmanship skills are still appalling.”

“It’s a good thing I have other skills, then,” he continued unbothered. 

“I mean it," Arthur said, oddly concerned. "I don’t want to see you hurt.”

And, although Merlin was touched by how concerned Arthur was, his warnings fell on deaf ears. And by the next day, Merlin didn't even bother bringing a sword.  

“You don't even have a sword,” Arthur was quick to realise, not feeling it on his waist.

“I don't need one,” he said, because they really weren't doing much training. 

“Merlin, I'm supposed to be teaching you swordfighting. What do you expect me to say if someone barges in here?”

“That I'm a forgetful country boy and you were trying to teach me a different kind of lesson?” Merlin replied cheekily. 

“Merlin…” Arthur chided him.

“What? I was talking about poetry,” he said, playing innocent.

“I'll teach you some poetry!” Arthur retorted, tackling him to the ground again.

Of course, Merlin's fantasies had a way of coming true. And when a horrified Leon barged through the door to inform Arthur of some strategy developments, there was only one way this could go. 

"Sire, everything is set for the-" Sir Leon barged in, instantly falling silent as they hastily pulled away.  

"Sir Leon," Arthur addressed him with as much dignity as he could muster. 

"Is everything alright, my lord?" Sir Leon asked nonetheless.

"It's perfectly fine, we were just…" Arthur began, not really knowing what to follow it with. 

"Come on, Sire, tell him what we were doing," Merlin whispered amused.

"I was just…teaching him some poetry," Arthur said through gritted teeth. He was so going to kill Merlin later.

"Poetry?" Leon asked surprised.

"You see, the poor guy doesn't really get it. But he's had this crush on a village girl, and he's trying to impress her before the big battle," Arthur conjured up on the spot, which was kind of impressive. "You see, Merlin, it's all about the enunciation."

"Ah," Merlin played along, "I get it now."

"Alright. I'll…leave to your poetry then, my lord." 

"I hate you," Arthur whispered in Merlin's ear as soon as Leon left.

By the third night, they had learned their lesson and placed a wooden board barricading the door. They would not be interrupted tonight. Arthur would be mortified if anything like that happened again. 

“You know, you’re not so terrible at this,” Arthur admitted as they fell into the hay together after another very good practice run. 

“Falling down? I’ve been practising my whole life,” Merlin said cheekily, trying to be funny. 

“What did I tell you about trying to be funny?” 

“I shouldn’t do it?” Merlin guessed.

Arthur chuckled. "You guessed it."

“Hey, there's a hole in the ceiling,” Arthur noticed after they had been lying for a while. 

It was actually big enough that they could see some stars through it.

“Oh yeah, Will and I were supposed to fix that," Merlin replied awkwardly. "He had been nagging me about it for days because he's secretly afraid of heights, but I never got around to do it."

“Is he still upset?" Arthur asked, not really knowing if he should intrude. 

He felt bad for causing the rift between them. But he couldn't blame Will, because he knew he would be angry too if someone tried to pull Merlin away from him. 

"I think so. But I think that's on me," Merlin tried to absolve him of the guilt as usual. "I haven't exactly been the best of friends lately, have I?” 

But Arthur didn't reply. It wasn't his place to reply. After all, Merlin had been a great friend to him lately, more than a friend even.

“There are so many stars in Ealdor,” he commented in an attempt to change the subject. 

“Are there not many stars in Camelot?” Merlin asked surprised.  

“I don't know. I never noticed,” he replied sadly.

When he was there, he was always so worried about his people, about what was right in front of him. He never had much time to look up. The only chance he got was when he was out camping, and even then, he always had to stay on guard to protect his fellow knights. But being here with Merlin was different. He had time to see things, think about things he had never considered before.

"You know, when I was younger, I liked to make up constellations," Merlin confessed with a childlike gleam in his eyes. 

"How?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Look," he pointed at the hole in the ceiling, "that one looks like a little dragon. Oh, and that one looks like a bear,” Merlin said excitedly, pointing at constellations that definitely had proper names, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that right now. 

Merlin was so endearing when he was like this. So much so that he couldn't stop the most foolish things from coming out of his mouth.

“Come with me to Camelot,” he whispered to the ceiling.

He knew it was foolish. Merlin already had a family, a life here. But he couldn't bear the thought of being parted from him, of not having this.

“What?” Merlin instantly broke into laughter.

But he was serious, he meant it.

“When this is all over…come with me to Camelot,” he asked again, turning to face him.

He knew the moment they crossed those white walls, things would change…but maybe, maybe they didn’t have to. Maybe with Merlin by his side, everything would be…easier, they could be…happy.

“Arthur, I can’t," Merlin denied right away, hurting his feelings more than he would like to admit.

“Why not?" He asked, perhaps a little desperate. "If it’s because you’re afraid of leaving your mother alone, she could come too. I’m sure I could help her find a place," he offered.

He was being ridiculous now, but it was worth the shot. 

“Arthur…” Merlin tried to call him to reason again, and this time he had to listen.

“Just…think about it, alright?” Arthur asked, still a little hopeful.

“Alright,” Merlin said hesitantly, and he had a feeling there was something else holding him here.

“How are your sword lessons going?” Will confronted him one night after he saw him leave the barn.

“Good. Great, actually. Arthur is an excellent teacher.”

“I bet he is,” Will retorted under his breath.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, sensing some hostility again.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Relax, we’re just having a little fun, what’s the harm in that?”

“Since when do you need a sword anyway? If you just used your magic…”

“Will…we’ve talked about this,” Merlin said, tired of their recurring argument.

“What are you so afraid of? That he’d find out? He’s going to find out sooner or later,” Will reminded him.

Deep down, he knew Will was right. Maybe he was taking this too far, maybe he shouldn't be giving Arthur hope. Because there was no hope for them, was there? No. There was no place where the two of them could be together, least of all in Camelot. Because Arthur didn't know who he truly was, and if he did, he'd probably never speak to him again. 

Chapter Text

They spent the next following days devising a plan, a trap that would limit their attackers' mobility and be sure to give them an advantage. It seemed everything was all set for the return of Kanen's men in two days time. Everything was going great…until it wasn’t. 

It happened in the middle of the night. Over the last couple of nights, they had started sleeping closer together, entirely giving up on the pretence of sleeping opposite each other. And though that meant sometimes he woke up with half of Merlin's limbs on top of him, it was all worth it when he got to fall asleep with his face buried in the soft crook of Merlin's neck. 

That night, however, Merlin had been particularly shifty in his sleep. He thought it was just his nerves, a harmless nightmare in anticipation of the incoming battle. But as he heard a suspicious noise outside, he feared the danger might have been more than Merlin's imagination. 

Had Kanen's men returned earlier? Had they planned an ambush at night when the villagers least expected it? 

That would throw all of Arthur's planning away. They would have lost before the battle even began.

He had to warn Merlin. If that was true, they had to flee the village right away.  

“Did you hear that?" He asked softly, shaking his shoulder. "Merlin? Merlin, wake up!”

But despite his best efforts, Merlin startled awake, and in a matter of seconds his entire world shifted. Because when Merlin opened his eyes, he was not met with the familiar blue, but with a warm, unnatural, gold that threatened to burn his eyes if he stared at them for too long. It was a stark contrast against the darkness of the room, the only light coming from a nearby candle that had just light up, seemingly unprompted. And suddenly any worry about bandits or danger coming from outside of the house vanished from his mind, because the real danger was here, behind those eyes. They made him wonder what sort of man Merlin was, what manner of creature he had been sharing his bedroll with. He thought he knew him, now he wasn’t so sure. 

“Merlin?” He asked tentatively into the night, hand reaching for his sword. He had to know if it was still him. His heart was racing madly in his chest and Merlin must have heard it too, because the next time he spoke, his voice was coated with concern. 

“Arthur? Arthur, what is it?” He really didn’t see it, did he? The Merlin-shaped creature moved towards him, placing a tentative hand on his arm, but he pulled away.

It sounded like Merlin, it felt like Merlin, but still he couldn’t be sure who was the man in front of him. Had he been lying to him all this time?

So this was the secret Merlin was hiding, the treacherous truth that threatened to rip his heart in half. 

“You…you have magic!” Arthur said in the most coherent way he could put it. 

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin tried to deny it.

“Your eyes…they turned bright gold,” he uttered, still shocked.

“It must have been just a trick of the moonlight. Just…go back to sleep, Arthur,” Merlin tried to brush it off, and if he had been more sleepy, maybe he would have fallen for it. But he knew magic when he saw it. 

“No, I know what I saw. You just lit up that candle without even uttering a word." Merlin didn't deny it, then. He just looked...frightened for some reason, as if he wasn't aware of his own power. "How did you do that?” He demanded. 

“I…I don’t know. It just happens,” Merlin claimed, clearly playing innocent.

“Did you enchant a spell in your mind?”

“No, I…I don’t know any spells.”

“You’re lying!" Arthur spewed back. Everyone knew sorcerers needed spells to channel their magic, and the fact that Merlin kept pretending he didn't know any of this only made him more angry.  

"I'm not. Arthur, please-"

"How could you do this? I know you wish to protect your village, but this isn't the time to turn to sorcery," he tried to reason with him.

After all, he was there to help. Did Merlin not trust him? Apparently not. 

"Arthur, I'm not turning to- anything. I…I was born like this," Merlin claimed, lying again.

"Stop lying!" No one was born like that. They wouldn't punish people for something they're born with. No. Magic was a choice, an evil that was learned, studied, and Merlin had gone and used it behind his back. "I…I trusted you. How could you keep this from me?" 

"Arthur, I-I wanted to tell you but-"

"From your own mother?" He asked outraged. But then a thought crossed his mind. Maybe Hunith wasn't entirely innocent in this as well. "Did she know about this? Or did you enchant her as well?”

“Of course, she knows, Arthur. She's my mother," Merlin replied, suddenly angry by the implication. "And, I didn't enchant her or anyone else."

So Hunith was complicit, too. She had been harbouring a sorcerer under her very roof. It didn't make any sense. These were good people. Why would they turn to magic?  

"You didn't enchant me?" The question flew out of him next, bitter and raw, before he had the chance to stop it. 

"No…" Merlin whispered softly with a newfound sympathy in his face. He must look so pathetic, asking for reassurance, for proof that what he felt was real. And before he knew it, Merlin's hand was reaching up to wipe tears he hadn't realised had fallen. "Arthur, look at me." He met his eyes then, as soft and blue as they had always been. "Do you really think I'd be capable of that?"

And at that, he pulled his face away as if it had been burned. The truth was he wasn't sure, he didn't really know what Merlin was or wasn't capable of. All he knew was that he had betrayed his trust, that he had lied to him from the moment they met. 

"I don't know. I don't really know who you are anymore," Arthur said bitterly. "I thought I knew you…" he lamented, his voice a little more broken. Tears threatened at his eyes again, but he wouldn't let them fall. He had already had his moment of weakness. 

"I'm still the same person," Merlin cried, chasing after him as he turned his back. "Arthur, please…Can't we talk about this tomorrow?"  

“No, I can’t stay here…not anymore.”

“Arthur…” Merlin called out after him, but he wouldn't turn back.

So he took his bedroll and headed out the door, not really sure where he was going, he just knew he couldn't be here.

Thanks to some ill-advised decision, he ended at the barn where they used to meet. He settled his bedroll on the hay and attempted to sleep, but he kept tossing and turning, Merlin's golden eyes ingrained on the inside of his mind. 

So he quickly gave up on sleep and looked up at the hole in the ceiling instead, at the stars they had looked at so fondly just the other night. The same stars now seemed to mock him, and he cursed them for conspiring against him and making him end up here in this wretched place, for making him fall in love with that damned boy with the golden eyes. 

The next morning he woke up with the same feeling, except now he was also covered with hay. How could he have been so foolish? His father had warned him that a sorcerer could take on any figure, any form that it pleased. He should have suspected it. He should have seen right through him. He should have noticed. His eyes were just a bit too blue, his cheekbones just a bit too sharp, his smile just a bit too alluring and his lips...God, his lips were just too sweet.

He shook his head. No, he wouldn't fall for it again. He had to be careful. He had to protect his head, if not his heart.

Still, he should head back for breakfast. He didn't want Hunith to worry. 

Almost as soon as he walked in, Merlin came in through the door, with puffy eyes and his hair all tousled. It was clear he hadn't slept much either. Still, he wouldn't skip the niceties. 

"Morning," Merlin greeted him, voice hoarse. But he didn't reply, he couldn't bring himself to speak to him.

"Arthur, about last night…" Merlin began, nudging him, touching him in the arm as if nothing had changed, and that was the cruellest torture. 

"Merlin, don't," he finally spoke, pulling away from his touch.

"What? Now, you won't even speak to me?” Merlin asked, heartbroken.

“Merlin, I-I can't consort with sorcerers. You must understand that,” he replied, voice harsh. That's how it had to be. It was best to cut all ties completely.

“Do you realise how childish that is?” Merlin asked bitterly.

“I mean it. You don’t understand. If we were in Camelot, I would have to have you arrested,” he tried to make him understand.

“But we’re not," Merlin argued. "Can’t you just let this go?" He begged softly. "I’m still the same person.”

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I-I can’t do this. This can’t go on.”

“Why not? Because I’m evil, because I will corrupt your soul?” Merlin asked, and now he just looked sad. He couldn't bear to see him like this.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, but the harm was already done.

“You didn’t have to. I know that’s how all you knights think. And here I thought you were different…Guess I was wrong,” he said, storming off with the most desolate face he had ever seen. 

“Merlin…” He called after him, but he knew he didn't deserve him to turn back.

He had spent the night crying at Will's. After what happened, he knew Arthur would never look at him the same way again. He just didn't expected him to be so cold. He returned to the kitchen barely holding back tears. If this was how Arthur wanted it to be, then so be it. At least now he knew how he truly felt about him. 

"Did something happen?" His mother asked as she put away the dishes. She hadn't properly looked at him yet, and he knew that when she did, he wouldn't be able to hold it in. "I noticed Arthur didn't sleep in tonight."

And that was what made him break down into tears again. 

"Oh my sweet cariad…" His mother rushed to hug him.

"He found out and…and now he hates me. He hates me, Mum, and I don't know what to do," he cried into her shoulder. 

“Don’t say that, love. He’s just scared," his mother tried to reassure him. "He's just never met anyone like you before."

"You should have seen the way he looked at me, like I was…like I was a…m-"

She knew the word that was coming, she had fought against that word for a long time. 

"You're not," she reassured him. "You have a good heart and a kind soul, and with time, Arthur will see that too. He just needs a little more time," she told him, and he hoped more than anything that that was true. 

Chapter Text

From that evening on, everything started to go wrong. Arthur kept training the men, as he promised he would, but they somehow only seemed to be getting worse. 

"Looks like the battle's already fought and lost," Morgana commented after a particularly harsh session.

The men looked exhausted after only sparing amongst themselves. If this was how they fared in training, how would they fare when they were faced with a real opponent who wouldn't stop until he saw them dead? They didn't stand a chance.  

"They'll toughen up," he replied half-heartedly as he reached for a cup of water to cool off.

"They need to," Gwen warned him, looking over at the men with concern.

He knew they were right. They would have to toughen up, or they would have no chance to defeat Kanen.

"How are we doing for weapons?" He asked in an effort to divert the conversation. 

"There isn't much, but we should be able to scrape together what you need," Morgana replied, sharing a look with Gwen. 

"It's not the weapons that worry us. It's having enough people to use them. We think the women should be allowed to fight," Gwen spoke out. 

He knew they must have been thinking it for some time, and it was brave of them to bring it up with him, but still, he couldn't allow it.

"It's too dangerous," he replied firmly. He already had too much on his mind as it was. He couldn't have more lives on his conscience, especially not those of women and children.

In a moment of weakness, he looked around the field in search of Merlin, but he knew he wouldn't be there. Naturally, he had stopped coming around for practice after their disagreement. So he turned back to the men instead. 

"Come on, let's go! Back on your feet!" He commanded.

Maybe he was being harsher on them because of his temper, but that would only make them toughen up quicker.

The men were as hopeless at the second half of training as they were at the first, and with the villagers well and truly exhausted, Arthur was starting to need another outlet for his anger. So he headed to the barn to find something he could swing his sword at. He had managed to find a promising-looking pole when Morgana walked in, presumably to hammer in their point about the women fighting, but he wasn't really in the mood for one of their arguments.  

“Not now, Morgana,” he brushed her off. He really didn't want to deal with her right now.

“What happened?" She asked as she came in anyway. "Did you and Merlin have a fight?" She guessed, not entirely wrong. 

"Nothing happened," he lied, still attacking the wooden pole with his sword.

"Come on, Arthur, I know you well enough to know something happened when you start swinging your sword at things. It's usually after a fight with your father,” she replied, annoyingly right as usual. And then, something must have caught her attention because she stopped berating him for a second. "Gods, Arthur, have you been sleeping here?" She asked after she spotted his bedroll in the hay.

He had. It was itchy and uncomfortable, but he just couldn't bear to sleep next to Merlin, not after that night.

"Whatever happened, just say you're sorry," she advised, unhelpfully. If only it was that simple.

"Just go away, Morgana," he said, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“I was only trying to help," she said, raising her hands in defeat. "But fine, I'll just leave you to your brooding, then."

And just like that, he had also pushed her away. He was always doing this, pushing people away, even when they meant a lot to him.

“Wait. I’m sorry," he said before she had the chance to leave. "I just- have a lot on my mind,” he confessed.

Between his fight with Merlin and preparing the men for battle, he barely had time to process his own feelings.

"Tell me, what is it?” She asked softly, leaning against the door.   

“You couldn't possibly understand,” he said cryptically, turning away from her.

They couldn't talk about this. Although if anyone would understand, it would be Morgana.    

“Try me,” she pressed.

After he remained silent, she went in with the teasing.

"Whatever you've done, it can't be that bad," she taunted.

And though he knew she hadn't meant to, that triggered something in him. He wasn't the one at fault here. Merlin was the one committing treason.  

"It wasn't me!" He snapped, throwing away his sword. "I didn't screw it up, I didn't get the chance to," he admitted, revealing more than he meant to. 

"Then what did he do?" She asked perplexed. It seemed he wasn't the only one fooled by his innocent demeanour. "Surely you can find it in yourself to forgive him."

"I don't know if I can," he admitted conflicted. "What he's done, what he's (risking/dealing with) is…unthinkable."

"Are you sure you're not exaggerating it?" Morgana asked him unconvinced. "He seems pretty harmless to me."

“He's using magic, Morgana,” he was forced to say out loud.  

Just to speak of it made his stomach clench.

“That doesn't mean he has caused any harm," Morgana said after a while, taking his side. "So what if he has used it to grow fields, or protect his family? Wouldn't you do the same thing if you had it?” 

“It doesn't matter what he used it for. He's still using it," Arthur countered. "It could corrupt him…I don't want it to corrupt him,” he said distressed.

Even if things had gone badly between them, he still cared about Merlin. And Morgana seemed to understand that. 

“Maybe he can't help it," Morgana suggested in an effort to ease his mind. "What about the druid boy you helped escape? He couldn't help it too,” Morgana brought up, and he knew that would come back to bite him in the future. 

“That's different. He was just a boy. Merlin knows what he's doing. And he still chose to do it,” Arthur pointed out, though he tired of coming up with arguments against Merlin's side. 

“What makes you so certain he has? What if magic wasn't something he chose, what if it chose him?” She foolishly asked.

“Don't be ridiculous, Morgana. Everyone knows no one is born like that,” he was quick to disprove it, his father's lectures always present with him. 

Merlin did claim that he was, but if he had lied about the magic, why would any of it be true? He couldn't take his word for it. He had to trust what he knew to be true.

Morgana was looking at him with a glare him, but before she could say anything else, screams were heard from outside, and they both turned to follow the commotion. The villagers were gathered around something, or rather someone. 

It was Matthew, the man he had assigned sentry duty just a few hours ago, slung over a horse with an arrow on his back. 

"Get him down from there!" He ordered immediatly, a chill setting in his bones. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for him. He should never have asked him to stand guard on his own.

And the village men were quick to pull him down, allowing him to read the note that was stuck to the arrow on his back.

"What does it say?" Merlin asked over his shoulder. It was the first time they had spoken since their brief encounter at breakfast, and he regretted that these was the message he was forced to deliver.

"Make the most of this day, it will be your last," he read aloud. 

"Look what you've done," Will said as he came in through the crowd. "You did this, you've killed him!" He spat, with more venom than necessary.

But he didn't blame him. He knew this was about more than what happened to Matthew. This was about Merlin, about how he had treated him, and he was only trying to stand up for his friend.

Merlin, however, didn't seem to appreciate it.

"It wasn't his fault," Merlin defended him unexpectedly, even if he saw no reason why he would.

"If he hadn't been strutting around, treating us like his own personal army, this would never have happened!" Will snapped, storming away from the crowd. 

He vaguely registered Merlin following after him, but everything was a bit of a blur after that. 

He was still in shock after what happened to Matthew. He had had dinner at their house just two days ago. These people had welcomed him into their home, and now this was happening because of him. Maybe Will was right. Maybe he was just putting them all in danger.

After a while, he could feel Merlin, sitting beside him by the campfire. 

“Don’t mind what Will said. You’re doing a good job,” Merlin reassure him.

He didn’t deserve this, he didn't deserve his compassion, not after how he treated him.

“Merlin, you don’t have to-”

“I mean it,” Merlin said earnestly.

“I'm treating these men like soldiers, and they're not. You've seen them fight. They...they haven't got a clue! Maybe Will is right. It would be best for everyone if they just left the village before Kanen returns.”

“He’s not. He may wish to leave, but the rest of us are staying. We're going to fight, and we're going to win.”

“Merlin, it can't be done. The odds are too great,” he reminded him.

“It can. We're going to make Kanen rue the day he ever came to this village. All you need to do is get the men ready for battle, and the rest will take care of itself,” Merlin said with an unwavering certainty.

“How?” He asked desperatly.

There was an answer there, one Merlin seemed to have at the tip of his tongue. But he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want him to turn to sorcery, not now, not ever again. But he didn’t want to say it and Merlin didn’t want to make him say it. 

“You've just got to believe in them," Merlin said instead, sparing him the lecture. "Because if you don't, they'll sense it, and the battle'll be lost before it's even begun.”

He knew Merlin was right. But belief alone wouldn't be enough. They needed more training, more weapons, more time... There were a lot of things he could do with more time. But that didn't matter now, so he'd better work on his motivational speech for the village gathering later.

After that, they sat in silence for some time - Arthur sharpening his sword because it helped him think, and Merlin carefully watching him. A small truce, he thought. And he was glad for it. For a moment, he could pretend that nothing had happened between them, that Merlin was still the same lovable fool he met weeks ago. At least until Merlin stood up to tend the fire.

To anyone else, it would seem like a normal gesture, but after witnessing how easily Merlin could light a candle without as much as lifting a finger the other night, it baffled him why he did it. 

"Why don't you use magic?" He asked, all his anger gone. Because now he needed to know, he had to know, why he was still pretending.

Merlin seemed surprised at the question. And he could understand why. It was the first time he used that word since their fight.

"Habit, I suppose," Merlin finally answered, looking shifty. He glanced around to confirm that they were alone and then at Arthur in a silent plea for permission. And he granted it with a nod. Only then did he use his fire to fuel their own, gold dancing beautifully in his eyes in a way he wasn't ready to acknowledge. 

It hit him then how scared Merlin must feel. How guarded and vigilant he has to be all the time. Even more so, during the days Arthur was staying with them. All that time, Merlin must have been on edge, forced to hide even in his home. And he suddenly felt terribly guilty for the way he reacted, for making him feel unsafe where he should feel protected. 

“I’m sorry about how I reacted," he whispered to the flames, not able to meet his eyes. "I know you don’t mean any harm.”

It was as small a concession as he could make, but he meant it. Deep down, he knew there was no evil in Merlin's heart.

How could there be? He was so full of light.

“It's alright," Merlin replied in a meek voice that was so unlike him. No mirth, no banter, just quiet resignation.

Arthur didn't know what he had endured from the villagers before he got here, but now it made him wonder if that was why he was so guarded in the first place. Hunith did mention Merlin never had many friends here, now he wondered if this was why.

"You know, sometimes I think you’re right, that they’re all right…I am a monster,” he confessed after a while, talking to no one but the flames. 

“Don’t…don’t say that,” Arthur rushed to say. He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong for Merlin to say it. "Look, I've dealt with my fair share of monsters, and I can tell you're not one of them. You have a good heart," he reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his arm and squeezing it lightly. 

Merlin's eyes turned to look at him then, blue as they had always been, only now he could also see some specks of gold, reflected by the roaring flames. He felt as if he was seeing him, all of him, for the first time. And it was frightening, to be faced with someone you should hate and find nothing but love in your heart. 

"You know," Merlin said after some time, "there's a way to change the tide, to make sure Kanen and his men never set foot in this land again."

And that's when he knew it went too far. He didn't want Merlin to mistake his reassurance for encouragement.

"Merlin, don't," he said firmly. Better be harsh now than have Merlin suffer the consequences of using magic. 

"But it could save lives-" Merlin insisted with a spark in his eyes. He sounded so hopeful, too.

Couldn't he see that doing that, using magic like that, would risk his soul? His heart? 

"But it would risk yours. I can't have that," he blurted out, tired of this argument. He knew he had to leave before he ran the risk of exposing himself more than he wished to. "I must go now. I must prepare to address the villagers. See you then."

So he grabbed a hold of his sword and stepped away from the fire, from Merlin and from all the questions burning inside his chest. 

After Arthur left, he remained sat by the flames for some time. He really thought Arthur was understanding or at least starting to. There was no fear in his eyes this time, no anger, just…a misguided concern. For his soul, for his heart, whatever part of him Arthur thought he was protecting by telling him not to use his magic. But he didn't care what Arthur thought. He knew that if it came to the choice between saving people's lives and risking his own, he would use it. That reminded him of Will.

So he passed by Will's house to convince him to walk with him to the meeting.

"I'm still not fighting," he said as he reluctantly stepped out the door.

"I know. But at least you get to see what all the fuss is about. And hey, if Arthur makes a mistake in his speech, you can always mock him behind his back," Merlin said as encouragement.

After supper, the villagers gathered in the old barn for a final meeting before the battle. This was the moment that would make or break the battle. If Arthur managed to convince them that it was possible, that they could actually win, then half the battle would already be won. He just had to believe in them, and in himself.

Arthur eventually agreed to allow the women to fight, as he knew he would, and now he was about to begin his big speech, the one he had caught him adorably rehearsing a few hours ago.  

"Look around. In this circle, we're all equals. You're not fighting because someone's ordering you to, you're fighting for so much more than that. You fight for your homes. You fight for your family. You fight for your friends. You fight for the right to grow crops in peace."

And as he addressed the villagers, Merlin could see in him glimpses of the great king he would one day be. He was a natural leader, a spokesman. And he understood then why knights would follow him into battle, why he too was willing to lay down his life for him if it came to that. 

"And when you're old and grey, you'll look back on this day, and you'll know you earned the right to live every day in between! So you fight! For your family! For your friends! For Ealdor!" He continued his speech to emerging cheers from the crowd.  

"For Ealdor!" He echoed the rest of the villagers. 

After the village gathering, Merlin returned home with a renewed sense of hope. Arthur had stayed behind to work out some final details with Sir Leon, but his encouraging words had stayed with him. But that same hope couldn't be found in his mother's face when he found her sitting by the fire as he came in.  

"Mother? Is everything alright?" He asked as he closed the door and hung up his jacket. 

"Come here," she called for him, and he followed. "I do love you, my boy," she said as she caressed his face, which usually spelled trouble.

"What's wrong?" He asked concerned.

"I know what you're planning to do," she said, reaching for his hands. 

And he sighed. He must have heard him talking to Arthur about the magic.

“You can’t do it, Merlin,” she warned him.

“I have no choice. If I don’t, then Kanen will win,” he said conflicted.

But little did he know that she wasn’t talking about the magic. 

Chapter Text

It was the morning of the battle, and like before every battle, he felt exhilarated, adrenaline rushing out of his every pore. But today it was different; today he also felt a slight sense of dread at the back of his throat. Because if they were to succeed, if they managed to drive Kanen and his men away from the village, then he would be leaving it the next day. He would be leaving everything and everyone he met behind.

Merlin's face instantly sprang to mind. It felt wrong not to see it first thing in the morning; it felt even more wrong that the face in question had barely smiled at him in the last couple of days. He decided then that it was time for this feud to end. If this was to be the last time he saw him, he didn't want to leave things unfinished. He just wanted to...well, he didn't know what he wanted, he just knew he needed to see him. 

So he marched onto Hunith's cottage with intention, only to be rendered soft at the sight that greeted him. Merlin was wearing a thin armour, looking too precious for ever being allowed into battle, as he struggled adorably to put on his vambrace. He just wanted to protect him, to hold him close and prevent him from ever entering a battlefield. But he couldn't do that, so he settled for the next best thing - helping him with his armour.           

“Let me,” he said softly as he helpfully grabbed hold of his vambrace. 

“If you’re here to tell me not to use magic, don’t bother,” he replied defensively, pulling away. 

"I wasn't," he said earnestly. Merlin raised a skeptical brow. “I think you should use it.”

It wasn't just the fact that they were largely outnumbered and would likely lose if he didn't, but more than anything, he wanted Merlin to know that it was alright, that he could trust him with this part of himself. 

“But I thought-” Merlin said surprised.

“Listen, I know what I said, but I was wrong. This is your home, you have every right to defend it the best way you can. It was foolish of me to tell me you shouldn’t," he tried to explain himself. "And for the record, I don’t think all magic-users are evil. Certainly not the cheeky ones,” he added, eliciting a laugh from Merlin.

Merlin was smiling again, and for a moment, it felt like they were picking up where they left off. So he reached for the vambrace again, and this time Merlin didn't pull away, not even when his fingers flumbed and when his touches lingered.  

"You ready?" He asked once he was able to let go of Merlin's wrist.  

"My throat's dry," Merlin confessed with a sheepish smile. 

"Me too," he admits, because for the first time it actually is.

After that, they stared at each other for a long while, a thousand words and silent pleas being exchanged in a matter of seconds. They both knew what was about to come, but none of them dared to speak of it.

"It's been an honour," he finally said as he held out his hand, acknowledging the tension hanging in the room. And he truly meant it. It had been a strange and unexpected honour to get to know this man he had unexplicably grown so fond of.

“Arthur…” Merlin muttered in a quiet plea. All he had to say was 'don't go' and he would find a way to ditch all his royal obligations and stay here, or better yet, to add Ealdor into Camelot's territory so he could provide for them and visit whenever he wanted. He was sure Cenred wouldn't mind all that much.

But before Merlin could say anything else, they were interrupted by Morgana. 

"They've crossed the river," she informed them as she came in. 

After they were interrupted by Morgana, he followed Arthur outside to meet with the rest of the villagers, the air around them thick with the tension of things unsaid. But they didn't have time to dwell on that now. Kanen's men were already on their way.

Arthur greeted the line of men outside with the ease of someone who was used to sending men into battle, offering them firm handshakes and comforting words when needed. And that still didn't sit right with him, that Arthur was so familiar with all this.  

Still, he assumed his hiding place next to Arthur, his heart hammering in his chest. 

They were waiting on Morgana's signal to come out. She was the one in charge of lighting up the fire that would entrap Kanen's men once Gwen pulled up the gate. But Morgana seemed to be having trouble with the flints.

"What's taking her so long?" Arthur grumbled under his breath.

He could sense Arthur was starting to get nervous now. He knew that if they didn't light the fire on time, then their whole plan would fall through. So he rushed off to help Morgana. If all else failed, at least he knew his magic would light up a flame.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted after him, but he couldn't stop running now. Kanen's men had caught sight of him. 

"There's one. Get him!" Kanen ordered, and in an instant there were arrows and bolts flying at him.

Thankfully, his magic's awareness was able to help him dodge the paths of all of them, leaving him unscraped. 

When he got to Morgana, he could see that she was struggling with the flints.

"Pass me the flints," he asked, and she did.

He tried it himself a few times, but it was no use. He would have to use his magic.

He looked around nervously, waiting for Morgana to be distracted.

But then he felt a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Merlin. You can use it,” she said with a knowing look, nodding her approval. 

So Arthur had told her. His shoulders instantly dropped in relief, and he got to work. 

"Forbaerne," he uttered in the ancient tongue, and fire instantly lit up, lighting up the straw path in its way.

Morgana marvelled at the flames, speechless. 

"Pretty handy, huh?" He quipped in an effort to lighten the mood. 

Morgana huffed out a laugh. "You could definitely say that."

"Alright, I have to leave now. Arthur's probably freaking out," he said, getting ready to head back to his post.

But before he could do so, Morgana held onto his arm firmly.   

"Merlin," she called back, worry flooding her features, "be careful." 

Her gaze was so intense then, that he couldn't bring himself to do anything but nod. He was used to these types of warnings from his mother, but this felt like something different, like Morgana knew something he didn't.

Still, he ran in Arthur's direction, dodging bolts and arrows as he did so.  

"What were you thinking?" Arthur snapped at him once he got back.

"I was helping Morgana with the fire," he replied innocently.

"Don't run off on me like that again," Arthur asked earnestly, holding him close. 

Then he turned to the villagers behind them.

"Now!" He signalled them to come out after it was clear Kanen's men were trapped. 

From then on, the battle began in full swing. Whether on horse or on foot, everywhere he looked, there were Kanen's men charging at the villagers with all their might. But the villagers weren't ready to throw the fight, using swords, brooms and everything they could to fend off the attackers. And they were being able to hold them off, at least for now. 

Even he was actually faring quite well with a sword, knocking one, and then two opponents. It seemed he had picked up something from Arthur's lessons, after all. From his left, Arthur sent him a proud look as he knocked out an opponent of his own. 

Everything was going great, until one of Kanen's men charged at him on a horse with a mace in hand. He had barely seen the man behind him when Will jumped off a nearby roof to unhorse him. He was wearing his father's armour, and he knocked out the man with no trouble.    

"I didn't think you were coming," Merlin said impressed.

That really would have been his end, if Will hadn't shown up. 

"Neither did I," Will admitted with a dry chuckle. 

They both shared an amused look. Even after all these years, it was good to know Will would always have his back. 

But the battle around them didn't stop, so they quickly turned back-to-back to take on new opponents.

Still, no matter how many opponents they took on, there always seemed to be more men coming their way. 

"There's too many of them," Arthur reached the same conclusion as he fended off another one of Kanen's men.

"Not for me there isn't," he said confidently, sharing a look with Will. 

Then Merlin raised his hand, and the wind picked up around them, steadily growing into a windstorm that swept the village. All around them, Kanen's men struggled against the wind, having trouble remaining on their horses. And that quickly turned the tide of the battle to their side.   

With his heart hammering in his chest, he turned to his side, fearing Arthur's reaction.

But he found nothing but quiet amazement on his face. Of course, when he caught him looking, Arthur quickly brushed it off.

“God, Merlin, you didn’t need to cause such a stir,” Arthur retorted.

“That’s just what I do,” he quipped back.

“Show-off,” Arthur scoffed, but he could see the smile curling on his lips.

With a renewed energy, they took care of the few men who hadn't fallen or fled to the woods yet. It was exhilarating fighting next to Arthur without having to keep his magic hidden, without having to pretend he was a fool for once. And they quickly handled every opponent that stood in their way, leaving the few who had escaped with their lives to flee to the woods with the rest.  

For a moment, it seemed the battle was already won. But then Kanen rose from the ground, charging at them. 

"Pendragon!" Kanen called out to Arthur in challenge. 

And Arthur promptly turned to face him, taking on his blade. 

It was a single combat now, but Merlin had faith in Arthur's swordsmanship skills. He knew he would win. 

Still, Kanen charged viciously against him, hitting him with blow after blow, until he began to tire himself. That was when Arthur switched to the offence, striking him when his blows got sloppier, his reactions slower. And it wasn't long before Arthur managed to run him through, piercing Kanen's armour with his sword.  

"You did it!" Merlin congratulated him. And Arthur soon ran to hug him. 

He was sweaty, and his armour was heavy against him, almost knocking him down, but it didn't matter. They had won. Kanen wouldn't be tormenting them anymore. 

Or so he thought. 

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Kanen reaching for his crossbow with the last of his strength. He was aiming it at Arthur.  

And suddenly, Morgana's warning made sense. He knew what he had to do, and he would do it again, because this was Arthur, and Arthur couldn't die, not on his watch. His life was too precious to be lost like this. He was destined for great things, no doubt greater things than he was.

So, without a second thought, he pushed Arthur out of the way and took the arrow in his place.

"Merlin!" He heard Arthur scream as it hit his chest. He was feeling dizzy and struggling to breathe, but it was alright, because Arthur would live.   

“You just saved my life,” Arthur said in shock, picking him up from the ground. 

He hadn't realised he had fallen, but his head was resting on Arthur's lap now, and it felt nice. He wanted to be close to him now. 

As his vision began to blur, he couldn't help but notice how distressed Arthur looked. He knew he should be flattered, but he didn't want to go without seeing Arthur's smile one last time. He had to say something to lighten the mood, to let him know that it was alright, he was happy to make this sacrifice.

He smiled at him, quipping back with the last of his breath, “Yeah…I don’t know why I keep doing it.”

And then everything went dark.

Chapter Text

When Merlin went rigid in his arms, Arthur could feel his entire world spin. He didn’t know why it felt so monumental - like he was losing a part of his soul - but it did. He had seen men give their lives for him before. After all, that was the grim reality of being Crown Prince. But this …this felt wrong. Merlin wasn’t a soldier. He was a commoner, a healer’s son, he was kind and he was good, so good to him, despite him always behaving like a prat. He had no real reason to help him, and yet he always did. Because it was the right thing to do, because he cared for him, the real him. He always had, from the moment he brought him into this village. He didn’t deserve to die like this. 

"Quick, get him inside!" He heard Hunith's voice in the distance.  

His father had always told him that no man was worth his tears, but that didn’t seem to apply to Merlin, because he hadn’t stopped crying(/shedding them) from the moment they took him away from his arms.

From then on, everything was a blur. Around him, people were shouting for bandages and clean water. And there was blood, so much blood coming out of him. Arthur wished he could have been more help, but he couldn’t quite move; he was using all his strength to not to ()/stuck into place.

Morgana tried to shake him out of his () state(/stupor) a few times, but he(/his eyes) couldn’t quite focus on anything else, not while there was still blood coming out of Merlin’s chest.

Moments later, the door opened with a loud bang.

“Where is he? Where is that reckless bastard?” 

It was Will, coming into the house/barn like a hurricane, possibly heading towards him to demand recompense/vengeance for his friend's life. But instead he made a turn for the cot/pallet where Merlin laid unconscious.

"Damnit, Merlin, I knew I should've kept a closer eye on you," Will grumbled as he held Merlin's lifeless hand, tears staining his face as well. "You're not going to die on me, I won't let you."

After he was finished with Merlin, he turned to him.

“How could you let him do this?” He asked. He sounded more pained than angry, which was somehow worse. 

Arthur tried to speak, but no words seemed to come out. Nothing he could say would make this better.

“This is all my fault," he leaned into Merlin again, "I should’ve been there to look after him. It should’ve been me!”

“Come on, don’t say that, Will," Hunith rushed to his side. "You know he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself," she reassured him.

"That's right," Will said calmly at first, but then turned his head towards him. "I should be blaming him! He's the one who convinced him to fight,” he spat out, a new anger flaring in his eyes.

“What? You’re just gonna stand there and say nothing?" Will asked, impatient. "He did all this for you, you know?" 

“I never asked him to,” he said at last. He didn't mean to sound that he was blaming Merlin for being selfless, but it came out that way. 

But it was true. He never asked anything of Merlin, and yet he gave and gave everything of himself.

“You didn’t have to," Will blurted out, "And you knew that, you knew he would do anything for you.”  

He, in fact, didn't know that until now, but Merlin had just proved it. He just wished that didn't mean he wouldn't have Merlin by his side right now.  

“Will…” Hunith cut in with a warning tone, silently advising him to not go any further.

Even now, she was just trying to keep the peace. She was also being awfully calm about all this, like she expected it somehow, which only made it worse.

“No, he deserves to hear it," Will went on anyway. "He really loved you, you know that?” Will said unexpectedly.

But that was the worst part, wasn’t it? That the one person who had loved him just for who he was, was about to be buried because of it.

“He used his magic for you, we had won…and for what? For him to just throw his life away over some blond prat? You better be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen, because he lost his life because he believed in that stupid crap," Will spat out in a fit of rage. 

“Come on, Will, that’s enough!” Hunith pulled him away, but the damage had already been done. 

Because Will's words kept echoing in his ears. Had Merlin really sacrificed himself because of that, because he believed he would be a great king? 

That thought made him ill. And it couldn't be true, because Arthur was sure he would be a worse king without him.

Just in the short time he was here, Arthur already felt like he had become a better person because of it, because of him.  

"And you know what the worst part is?" Will continued, despite Hunith's protests. "Tomorrow, you get to walk out of here a hero, and he will never get to walk out of here again. He never even got to see anything beyond this rotten place," he reminded him. 

And that hit him even harder. He was going to ask Merlin to leave with him. 

They were supposed to return to Camelot together. There was so much he wanted to show him. And now he would never get to see it. 

Arthur was feeling ill again, like he might faint. He needed to get some air, he needed to get out of there. 

"What? You're just going to leave now?" Will confronted him as he headed towards the door. 

But he didn't answer, which probably didn't help his case.

He vaguely registered Will spewing something at him as he followed him outside. He also registered the punch to his face that followed, and the blood rushing off his nose, but it didn’t feel big enough to acknowledge. If anything, he deserved it; at least that way, he got to feel an ounce of the pain Merlin was feeling. 

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Morgana said as she ushered him away, concern written in her face. She briefly exchanged a glare with Will, but he didn’t care. Because it was all true, he was the one to blame. Not Will, not Kanen, he had roped Merlin into this, into fighting back. And that had only earned him a funeral pyre with his name on it.

As soon as he felt like he could breathe again, he walked back inside. He didn't want to leave Merlin alone. But when his eyes landed on the fragile figure lying on the pallet, Merlin somehow looked even more pale than before. That didn't bode well. And for the first time in his life, Arthur was truly terrified. He couldn't stand to watch Merlin die. 

He had seen countless men die on the battlefield before, but this was different. This was Merlin. Foolishly selfless, ridiculously brave Merlin. He wasn’t a soldier, and he should never have tried to make him into one.

As he saw Hunith pass by with yet another bowl of clean water, he felt compelled to apologise. 

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice, feeling guilty all over again for doing this to her. 

“What for?” She asked, forcing him to state the obvious.

“If I hadn’t insisted we fight back, if I hadn’t stayed-”

“-then we would have been slaughtered by Kanen. You saved us, Arthur,” she told him softly. And she wondered how she did it, how in the midst of all this, she could be the one comforting him.

“Yes, but I couldn’t save him,” he insisted. Because that was really what it was, wasn't it?  

No matter what they had done, no matter what they had achieved, it counted for nothing if he couldn't manage to save him.

“He’ll be alright," she reassured him after a while. "I know he will. He’s a brave boy,” she said, looking at him softly. 

“The bravest I have ever met,” he agreed with a fond smile.

Merlin was certainly braver than most of his knights, perhaps even braver than him. But that didn't make him invincible, no matter how strong he believed he was.  He just hoped his (tendency to be) foolish bravery wouldn't cost him his life. 

He was about to drift off, lulled by the slow rise and fall of Merlin's chest, when someone sat beside him.

It was Will, looking much calmer than before. He hadn't noticed anyone coming in. Had he been here all this time? 

"Relax, I'm not going to punch you again," Will said in way of a greeting.

"I'm glad," he replied as he chuckled dryly.

“Look, I’m sorry," Will said in a barely audible tone.

“You don’t have to-” Arthur shook his head at him. His outburst was more than justified; he would've said similar things if Will was the one responsible for his friend lying on that cot. 

“No, I do," Will continued anyway, because when had he ever done anything he was told? "You see, Merlin is pretty much the only friend I've got here, and sometimes I tend to get a bit…overprotective of him," Will admitted as if that wasn't obvious. "You know, he’s always been like this. Always jumping headfirst into trouble, he just can’t help but get involved. It was the same when we found you; he just had to help." 

Arthur chuckled lightly. That did sound like Merlin. And he briefly wondered if the instinct that drove Merlin to help him that day was the same that had led him to do what he just did for him.

"Everyone here thinks I’m the village's troublemaker, but the truth is, most of the time I just go along with whatever he's doing to make sure he doesn't end up dead," Will continued with a fond smile. In an odd way, he actually felt glad that Merlin had someone like Will watching over him. "My point is, he's been like this long before you showed up, and he’ll be alright, he always is. I’ve seen him fall off a roof and come off with just a scratch. If anyone can make it, it’s him.”

Now Will was the one reassuring him, which was surprising, but he would take it. He needed all the reassurance he could get. 

"I shouldn't have tried to blame this on you. There's nothing you could have done."

"I know. But I still feel responsible, like I should have stopped Kanen somehow, looked after him better," he confessed.

"Me too," Will admitted. "I guess it was easier to blame you than to blame myself," he conceded. "For the record, I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

"Oh, you didn't?" Arthur blinked. It certainly didn't come off that way.

"Maybe just a little bit." Will chuckled dryly.

And he huffed out a laugh, the first genuine laugh he had since all this happened to Merlin. 

After that, they just sat in silence and watched over him. He bet Merlin would have a laugh too. Of course, it would take Merlin nearly dying for them to get along.

Hunith watched over the boys as they stood by Merlin's bedside. They both cared a lot about him, and she was glad that they were finally seeing eye to eye. But it was late, and sleep would eventually catch up with them. Will was already snoring lightly in the corner, and Arthur was about to drift off as well. 

So she took the quiet moment to sit closer to her son. Her good, self-sacrificing son, who had just given his life to save a man he didn't know just a few weeks ago. This had always been his fate, she knew that now. The pull of destiny was too strong for him to ignore. But still she wished he would have been more careful.  

In an effort to find some solace, she reached for his hands, always too cold for his own good, now colder still. His pulse was weak like that of a wounded bird, and his breath came in with great effort. This time she could only glimpse his future in a gold, nebulous haze, but she could still glimpse it. And that meant there was still hope. She wouldn't lose her boy; she couldn't lose him. 

"Arthur…Arthur…" He mumbled in his sleep as he tossed and turned. 

His fever must be getting worse. Still, even in his sleep, he worried about him.

"He's alright, Arthur's alright," she reassured him as she glanced at Arthur sleeping on a chair on the other side of the bed. "You've saved him, my bird, now try to rest," she said as she stroked his forehead, reaching for another cold compress to soothe his fever.  

That seemed to ease his worries, but as soon as Merlin's sleep got deeper, Arthur startled awake. 

"Did he wake up?" He asked, rubbing sleep off his face.

"No, not yet," she told him.

"I could've sworn I heard his voice," Arthur said, still quite disoriented. 

Maybe Merlin was trying to reach him in his dreams. It wouldn't be the first time he did something like that.

Shortly after that, Morgana came into the room as well, glancing at Arthur with concern. It was clear he hadn't left Merlin's side all night.

“You should get some rest, Arthur. You’ve been up for too long," she told him. For all their bickering, she did care about him. "He’ll be alright.” 

“I can’t. He needs me,” he said determined, his words ringing familiar in her ears.

She saw in him a mirror of Merlin that first night; no matter how much she tried, she couldn't persuade him to leave Arthur's side. It was clear to her then that he needed Merlin just as much as Merlin needed him. They were two sides of the same coin, and from the moment they met, they could never be apart again. And she knew what that meant - when Merlin woke up, she would have to let him go. 

Chapter Text

When Merlin slowly opened his eyes again, he vaguely registered that he was lying down somewhere that wasn't his mother's cot. The last thing he remembered was a bolt coming in Arthur's direction and him stepping in front of it because it was the most natural thing for him to do. Now he ached all over, and yet he was smiling, because Arthur was here, watching over him…just like he had been a few weeks ago. 

Only Arthur wasn't doing a great job at that. He was sleeping in his chair with his head on the bed, a sleepy frown playing on his face. It was such a shame he had to wake him, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. 

"Rise and shine!" He heard a familiar voice say. 

"Merlin!" He instantly jolted up, rushing to hug him where he stood, breathing, alive. "I thought I'd lost you!"

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Merlin chuckled, though it was clear he was still in pain. 

"How…? How did you…?" He asked as eloquently as he could put it.

"I don't know. I came back from the dead, I suppose," Merlin joked. 

"You sure look like hell," Arthur said, which was a totally appropriate thing to say to the man he supposedly loved after he nearly died. 

"I feel like I've been there too," Merlin chuckled again, and he couldn't believe how relieved he was to hear that sound. 

"Merlin…" He called out his name, not really knowing what to follow it with. And Merlin instantly locked eyes with him. There was so much he wanted to say to him. He wanted to call him an idiot for what he had done, to tell him he loved him, to kiss him senseless... Instead, the only words that came out were, "…Thank you."

Merlin seemed shaken by that.

"You would've done the same thing for me," Merlin said with an overwhelming certainty.

And if he wasn't sure before, after Merlin said it, he knew it in his bones to be true.

But before he could say anything else, Hunith barged into the room with the most contagious smile.

"Merlin!" She ran up to hug him in tears.  

"Mother!" He replied, also sharing in her tears.

"You can't believe how happy I am to see you, my boy!" She said as she held him close. "Don't ever do something foolish like that again!" She scolded him, but her lips were still curved into a smile.

And Arthur couldn't help but break into a smile too at the sweet reunion. 

A part of him was glad for the interruption, because he wasn't sure if he could fight the impulse to kiss him for much longer. And that wasn’t what Merlin needed right now. They needed time, they needed space, to mend each other's wounds, to get to know each other again with no secrets and to figure out what was there between them.

So he decided to let Merlin and his mother have a moment alone while he spread the good news to the village. 

The villagers were not as thrilled with the news of Merlin's not-death as he thought they would be. After all, the village was still turned on its head after the battle, and there was much to be done. He offered to help with what he could, covering for any loss that could be repayed, but the next few days would still be filled with hard work for the villagers.

Unfortunately, it seemed he wouldn't be there to see to it.

"Sire," Sir Leon called out as he was done helping an old woman looking for her cat, "I've heard that Merlin's awake."

"Yeah," he confirmed. "It seems he will be recovering quite nicely."

"I'm glad to hear it," Leon said with a smile, knowing, perhaps too well, how important he was to him. But his smile soon faltered as he was about to deliver the devastating but much-expected news. "I'm afraid we can't delay our journey for much longer. Your father is already growing impatient."

"I understand," he said stoically. There was no delaying the inevitable. "We will ride for Camelot at dawn."

"Very well, Sire," Leon nodded at him. "I'll make sure we have everything we need."

And with that, he left him alone, with nothing but the sinking feeling in his chest. He wasn't looking forward to telling Merlin the news.

When he returned inside, Merlin's mother was just redressing his wound, and he got to see up close the mark his foolish act of bravery had left on him. It would no doubt leave a nasty scar, and all because of him. To think that he would leave, and Merlin would remain with that scar forever there, just felt wrong. As a knight, he had been taught that a scar was a badge of honour, the mark of a battle well-fought, but on Merlin it just looked like a stain on his perfect moonlight skin. 

He had also never seen him look so fragile, struggling to put on a shirt even with his mother's help. 

At some point, Merlin must have caught him staring, and now he wouldn't meet his eyes.

He was probably feeling self-conscious about the scar, but he wouldn't let it show.

“Hey, look, now we have matching wounds,” Merlin joked as he lifted his shirt to show it off proudly. But Arthur failed to see the humour in that.

Somehow, after all that, he still thought he was invincible. 

“It’s not funny, Merlin," he retorted, more harshly than he meant to. "You could be dead by now.”

By all accounts and purposes, he should be dead. But he didn’t feel like wasting much time thinking about why that was not so. For now, he was just happy that he was alive. 

“But I’m not," Merlin said defiantly, talking about death as if he was somehow above it. "I guess that means you'll still be seeing a lot of me."

He wished for that more than anything, but it would be cruel to get his hopes up. Sooner or later, he would have to deliver him the bad news. So there was no use waiting for the right moment.  

“Actually, Merlin, I’m leaving,” he blurted out before he lost his courage. 

“What?” Merlin asked, heartbroken, all his mirth gone. 

“Leon’s party is returning to Camelot tomorrow, and I'll be returning with them," he announced sorrowfully. "My father is already growing impatient. I have no choice, Merlin, I have to go," he said, almost begging him to understand. 

“I see,” Merlin said, not really able to hide how sad he was. “So, this is goodbye, then?” Merlin asked at last. 

And that stirred something in him. He always knew that this wasn't meant to last, that he would have to leave eventually, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Merlin just yet.

“It doesn’t have to be," he said, foolishly hopeful. He had to at least try. "You could come with me to Camelot.”

“Arthur, I can’t," Merlin replied, and he was sure that he could almost hear his heart shattering into pieces. "My whole life is here.”

“You could start a new one in Camelot," he said, knowing that it was too much to ask but not willing to give up just yet. "You’d love it there, I know you would. And I could even get you a position in the royal household. We would see each other all the time,” he added, perhaps a little too hopeful. 

“Arthur…I can’t leave my mother here alone. And Will, he needs me," Merlin argued. "Besides, you know as well as I do that Camelot is not a place for someone like me,” he reminded him.

For a moment, he had almost forgotten how different Merlin was. He hadn't considered that asking Merlin to come with him would also be asking him to live in constant danger. But he could change that. He could make it safer for people like him.  

“Perhaps it could be," he countered. "Look, I can't promise you things would change right away, but with time I'm sure I could…we could…find a way…together," he said, holding onto his hand a little too strongly. What was he thinking? Merlin had a peaceful life here, he didn't need the trouble. "Nevermind, that's foolish.”

“No, I believe in you. I believe in the world that you will build," Merlin said, looking into his eyes with so much faith that it was almost overwhelming.

“So you will join us, then?” He asked brightly, a faint glimmer of hope returning to his heart.

“Arthur...” Merlin said, begging him to forgive him.

So that was his answer then. 

“I understand. Well, if you ever come to Camelot, you know where to find me.”

“You’ll be the pratish prince in he big white castle, right?” 

“Yeah, just about,” Arthur replied with a fond grin.

It was only when Arthur headed out the door that he could finally give up the pretence and let the tears fall. He couldn't believe he was crying over that stupid prat. He had been so hopeful, too. Inviting him, asking him to be a part of the new kingdom he seeked to build. A place where those who practised magic wouldn't have to hide, where they would be free. Merlin wanted nothing more than that. But he didn't belong there; he belonged here with his mother. Who knew what could happen if someone like Kanen showed up in Ealdor again? No, he had to stay, he had to be there to protect her. He couldn't bear it if anything happened to her.  

"Merlin…" His mother called to him after she found him crying.

"I'm fine…I made my choice. I'm staying here with you," he said, cleaning off tears.

"You have to go, Merlin," his mother said unexpectedly.

“No, I can’t leave you. I can't leave Ealdor. What if anything like this happens again? If anything were to happen to you I…”

"I know where to find you," she reassured him. "But you no longer belong here. You belong at Arthur's side. I’ve seen how much he needs you…how much you need him," she said, ever attentive to him. "You're like two sides of the same coin,” she added.

And he suddenly found that that description fit them perfectly. He couldn't be apart from Arthur, because if he did, he would lose a part of himself as well. And he grinned, because it finally made sense. His purpose, his destiny, lied in Camelot, and if that destiny happened to include Arthur, well, he wasn't entirely mad about that. 

"Go on, then," his mother said amused, giving him permission to run off. “Oh, and Merlin?" She called before he was too far.

“Yes?” He turned back.

"Look after Morgana. I have a feeling she’ll need a friendly hand to hold onto,” she advised.

And he nodded along. That didn't make much sense to him now, but he suspected that it soon would. 

For now he was just content to run to Arthur with the good news.

"Wait for me!" He heard a familiar voice racing towards him from a distance.

They were almost about to mount their horses when a rough-looking Merlin came up to them, breathless. 

"Merlin!" He couldn't help his grin.

"I'm coming with you," Merlin said with the biggest grin. 

And in that moment he almost believed his heart would soar. Those were the best words he could ever hope to hear. 

But just because he wouldn't have to say goodbye to Merlin, it didn't mean there were no more hard goodbyes.

He talked with Hunith about leaving before, but he never imagined it would be so hard to say goodbye to her.

He thought the best way to go about it would be with a polite kiss on the cheek and a grateful formal goodbye, but Hunith soon threw that out of the window by pulling him into a strong yet tender hug. 

“Oh, I will miss you, my boy," she said fondly, still holding him tight in a way that made him never want to leave. And he would miss her too, more than she knew. "Just know that you can visit anytime," she added. "And I do expect to hear from you. You will write to me, yes?” She asked, surprising him. 

“Of course!” He replied excitedly. He wanted nothing more than that.

“Good, cause my son always forgets,” she took a quip at Merlin, who was just saying goodbye to Will. 

“And if you ever wish to visit Camelot, there’s a guest room with your name on it,” he assured her, hoping she would take on the invitation.

“I might take you up on that offer,” she chuckled lightly, giving him one last warm hug. 

And he really didn't know how Merlin did it. If he had a mother who gave out hugs like this, he would gladly be trapped here forever. He felt tempted to ask her to come along as well, but he thought Will would kill him if he did that. He was already pretty tempted to do that as it was.    

“You look after him," Will said to him after he was done saying goodbye to Merlin.

"I will," he promised to keep doing his work.

"And if anything happens to him, I’ll march down to Camelot to drag him back myself,” he added in a vaguely threatening tone.

And that made him turn his attention back to Merlin.

"You ready?" He asked, still somehow fearful that Merlin would regret this.

After all, he was taking him away from his family and everything he knew. 

"Yes, I think I've been ready for some time," he said undeterred. 

And that gave him the strength he needed for their journey.   

"Come on, let's go, then," he said excitedly, heading for their horses. 

They were heading for the path beyond the forest now, this was the furthest Merlin had ever been from home. He knew Camelot would be very different from everything he had known, and yet he knew something greater lied there, waiting for him.

With a hopeful smile, he took one last look back at his mother in the distance and then stared straight into the horizon.  

“Everything alright back there?” Arthur asked, sensing him move in the back of the horse they were sharing.  

“Yeah, I'll be alright,” he realised, staring at the silhouette of the white castle in the distance. 

With Arthur by his side he felt like they could conquer the world. 

Chapter Text

Dearest Mother,

I’ve been eager to get back to you for some time - and not because Arthur’s been nagging me to, despite what he may say - it’s just that a lot has happened since your last letter.

Gaius has been keeping me busy as usual, and on top of that I somehow landed a job as Arthur’s manservant after saving his life again at court - I really have to stop doing that! 

But other than that, I've been careful. I've been studying Gaius' book at night and having magic lessons with Morgana and the druids in a secluded clearing Arthur takes us to. Lately, he even lets me practice late at night in his chambers when it's just the two of us. 

I'm sorry to hear that about the cow, I hope Daisy gets better soon. In other news, I'm glad to hear that Will has been getting on with the butcher's girl - he's been pining over her for years now! - and I'm eager to hear more developments.

Love you dearly,

Merlin

~

Dearest Hunith,

Things in Camelot have been going great. After all, the festival season was just upon us and the people are still in high spirits. The citadel is vibrant at this time of the year too, with garlands and decorations hanging in every corner. I've once again been crowned champion at this year's tournament! It was a tight final between me and Sir Pelinor, but I pulled through and, though Merlin will deny it, he was cheering for me. He even wrapped his neckerchief around my arm for safekeeping, but I'm not sure what that meant. 

Other than that, I've been keeping an eye on Merlin like you asked me to, but he doesn't exactly make it easy. He's always sneaking away to the woods or doing magic in plain sight. Just the other day at court- 

~

"No, no, scratch that. She's not supposed to know about that," Merlin chimed in, reading over Arthur's shoulder.

They had a deal about the letters. Merlin didn't tell her about the unicorn, the questing beast and the million times a week Arthur's life was in danger, and Arthur didn't tell her about the dragon, the poisoning, or anything else that would have her run straight to Camelot to drag them both back to Ealdor. 

"If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't be telling her," Arthur retorted with the same logic of a two-year-old. "Besides, if I don't tell her that, I'll have nothing new to tell her about."

"It's not my fault you write to her every week," Merlin replied, rolling his eyes in mock-annoyance. He actually found it quite sweet. 

Arthur rarely missed a week, sometimes even writing to her before replying to some of the more important royal correspondence.  

"That's called being a considerate s-," Arthur quickly cleared his throat, covering for the almost slip-up, "pen pal," he rephrased it.

But he didn't mind it. He was pretty sure his mother had taken to calling him son in her letters as well. 

Still, that didn't mean he was going to stop teasing him about it.

"Tell me this, then," he began, leaning closer to his desk, "if you're so good at writing, why do I always have to write your speeches?"

"Because that's a part of your job, Merlin," Arthur replied, not missing a beat.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

They were pretty set into their routine bantering when a knock was heard at the door.

"A letter for you, Sire," the royal messenger announced, and they both raced to the door. 

"Ah, mine!" Arthur gloated as he got to the messenger first.

It shouldn't be such a big deal for Arthur to pick up his own correspondence, but alas, this too had become a sort of competition.

“Give me that!” Merlin said as he tried to snatch it from him. 

“And why would I do that?” Arthur teased, shaking it in the air. 

“Because it’s for me!” Merlin claimed, still trying to take it from him.

“It most certainly is not,” Arthur replied with a smirk and his most annoying tone of self-importance. He was enjoying this far too much. 

“No, the last one was for you, so this should be for me," he pointed out, trying to be rational as he practically climbed on top of him. "I am her son after all.”

"Yes, but I write to her more," Arthur countered, still holding the letter out of reach, "so I think that evens it out."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

They had fallen back into that familiar rhythm again, but he still really wanted the letter, so he knew he had to bring out his next moves.

"It doesn't matter. You're going to give me that letter," he said confidently, because this strategy hadn't failed him yet.

 "Oh, really? And why is that?" Arthur replied with a cocky grin. He never saw it coming. 

And then he pulled his haughty lips into a kiss, so tender that Arthur instantly melted into it, his knees buckling a little, and the letter soon forgotten on the floor.

He almost felt sorry for pulling this trick when he saw how smitten Arthur was.

"That's not fair!" Arthur complained, feeling betrayed after he pulled away.

Still, he couldn't help his cheeky grin as he picked the letter from the ground.

However, his victory was short-lived.

“My dearest Arthur…" His smile instantly dropped as he started reading it aloud.

"Ha!" Arthur cut in triumphantly, and he begrudgingly handed it to him. "I told you it was for me.”

“That’s not fair! The last one was for you as well,” he grumbled as he busied himself with some laundry.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t write to her just once every fortnight, she would reply to you more often.” 

“Maybe if I didn't have to clean your dirty socks, I’d have time to sit around and do some writing,” he retorted back, taking on the laundry basket.

But he knew it wasn't just that. Between his magic lessons, his apprenticeship under Gaius and saving Arthur's life, he barely had time to sit down at all. But he wouldn't trade it for the world.

His life was so full here, he couldn't believe there was a time he thought there was nothing out there for him beyond Ealdor. There was so much he had seen, so much he hadn't seen. And throughout it all, he had met some amazing people, too. Well, at least those who weren't trying to kill Arthur, or him.

And yes, loving Arthur was a full-time job in itself, but one he would do gladly.

“Maybe…” Arthur said with an amused grin as he settled in his desk again to read it. And just as he was about to leave for the laundry room, “Wait. Don’t you want to hear what’s been happening in Ealdor?”

He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but stayed anyway. He knew Arthur liked to have an audience. 

“What else, despite the fact that my mother loves you more than me?” He indulged him as he pretended to clean around the room.

“Well, Little Mary has finally learned how to ride," he began retelling with the sweetest enthusiasm, "and it seems Little Tom has been getting into more trouble with Old Man Simmons. That old crow," Arthur commented, sounding a lot like Will. "It also seems they’re quite happy with the new cow I sent them," Arthur beamed.

He was pretty sure he would bring Ealdor into Camelot's territory, if it wasn't such trouble. 

"Oh, and your mother is thinking about coming for a visit.”

Uh oh. They both exchanged a panicked look. That was not going to go well.

They would be marching back to Ealdor in no time and, knowing his mother, Uther may not even get a say in that.