Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Merlin was a funny fellow. 

Arthur couldn't quite fathom him, even after two months of service. He'd tried to attribute his strange qualities to being from the country. Perhaps his home town was full of just as rude and useless bumpkins running amok. But then, he'd met commoners before, and none of them were ever nearly as bold. 

The duality of his behaviors was most intriguing. From the moment they'd met, Merlin had shown Arthur the most disrespect he'd ever suffered from a random peasant. Even lords and knights refrained from being untoward in ways so unsubtle, but not Merlin. And yet, when times were dire, he'd shown himself to be quite selfless on Arthur's behalf. Despite how he spoke to the prince publicly, behind closed doors and between cheeky insults, Merlin could, on occasion, say things that might be interpreted as wise. 

Then, Arthur figured, if one talks as much as Merlin does, they're bound to say something meaningful from time to time, just by chance. 

Surely just by chance. 

Lately though, Morgana had been sending him death glares from across the dinner table, her brow knitting together as she watched Merlin pour his wine. It had been distracting him greatly over the past week, making it difficult to keep conversation with his father as he toasted to whatever the most monumental accomplishments for the kingdom had been. 

He couldn't fathom what he'd done wrong to upset her until one day Merlin spilt wine down his front. 

"Merlin!" he growled in surprise, pushing out his chair to escape the residual spill that trickled off the table's edge. 

Merlin started stammering an apology, eyes wide and blinking as though the wine had appeared out of nowhere instead of falling quite obviously from his slippery fingers. 

Uther glared at Merlin, judging his response as the boy hurried to soak up the puddle with a towelette. 

"Father, I'm–"  

Uther waved him off, setting aside his napkin. "It's alright, Arthur. I think we were quite finished." He didn't say this kindly. In fact, the king rather impressively made the pardon sound like an insult. 

They all moved to gather themselves, even as Morgana allowed Gwen to stay behind and aid Merlin in his cleaning. Arthur was ready to stomp out the door, all flustered and red faced, but Morgana grabbed his shoulder before he could leave. 

"What has gotten into you?"

"What?"

Morgana looked like she wanted to punch him. "There was no reason for you to yell at him like that!" 

"What– He dropped the whole pitcher onto me! It's not my fault that Merlin is–"

"You've been working him to the bone. Is it really so surprising that eventually he'd make a mistake?"

"I'd hardly call what Merlin does being worked to the bone," Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms. 

"Are you so pig headed that you don't see how exhausted he's been?"

"What?" Arthur startled, now glancing behind Morgana to try and verify what she had said, but Gwen was kneeling down in front of Merlin, blocking most of him from view. 

"What do you have him doing all day?"

At last, Gwen gathered some of the soiled rags and stood, revealing Merlin hunched over on the floor, scrubbing away. 

"He looks as though he hasn't slept in weeks."

Arthur stared at him. It was true. 

He looked absolutely spent. But it had been a quiet day. There'd been no training, no patrol, and he certainly hadn't sent Merlin to the stocks anytime recently. But there he was, blinking sluggishly with dark circles under his eyes. 

Morgana noticed him frowning and gave him a sideways smile. "You hadn't even noticed, had you?" 

Guilt stirred in his gut and he scowled down at her, before softening and shaking his head. 

"He may be your servant but you're also his master," Morgana warned him. "You had best take care of him. I know Uther doesn't care much for the wellbeing of servants, but I do."

Arthur swallowed as she gave him one last pointed look before striding away, angry clicks of her heels fading down the hall. As much as he feared a Morgana scorned, he also wondered how it was that she seemed to be more aware of the state of his servant than he was. 

Two days later, Arthur was up reading reports and Merlin arrived several hours late, as usual. 

He'd expected him to look better. After all, why else would he neglect to arrive for over three candle ticks if not to sleep in? But no, if anything, it seemed he hadn't slept at all. 

"You're up?" Merlin asked, as though the prince was also expected to sleep in until high noon. 

Arthur grinned. "Yes, Merlin, I got out of bed this morning."

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled, setting the late breakfast on the table. 

No excuse. No explanation. Not even a joke to derail the conversation. He just moved along. 

Arthur watched him, noting how slowly Merlin meandered about as he began his duties. Once or twice, he even paused and looked around, as though lost, before shaking his head and finding his next task.

Goodness, how little was he sleeping? Had Arthur really been overburdening him so much that he didn't have time to rest? Perhaps he should spy on how many duties Morgana gives her maid. 

A thought occurred to Arthur then and he cleared his throat. "You work for Gaius as well, Merlin?"

Merlin looked up, taking a moment to recognize the words. Then, he shrugged. "I help him where I can." 

"Did you help him this morning?"

Merlin shook his head. "Didn't have the time. I'll be out gathering herbs for him this evening though– unless you needed me?" 

"No, that's . . . have you eaten yet today?" 

Merlin looked surprised at the question. "No." 

It made him anxious, Arthur found, to be so openly kind, but he forced himself to do so. He gestured to the plate Merlin had delivered, a silent offer for him to indulge. 

Merlin let out a shy laugh. "No, I couldn't."

"You've never shied away from stealing from my plate, Merlin," Arthur chided. "Now I'm offering. Take a seat." 

Merlin huffed and dropped the laundry he'd meant to fold back into the basket, clambering over to the table and doing as Arthur asked. Merlin too, seemed nervous about the exchange, but that oddly made Arthur feel better about it. They could both awkwardly wade through this dynamic. 

"Thank you," Merlin said belatedly, his mouth full of egg. 

Arthur was confident he was doing a good job managing Merlin. He'd let him eat his food, given him less duties, and even set up the antechamber for him in case he needed to rest closer to Arthur's rooms. He was fairly certain he was giving him even less duties than Guinevere had, surely leaving ample time for him to go home and sleep.

So why did he still look so damn tired?

"How old are you, Merlin?" he asked on patrol one day. Merlin had been half asleep on his horse, and the prince suspected that his question might have just barely saved him from sliding out of his saddle. 

"I don't know."

"What?" He'd asked because he wondered if maybe Merlin was far younger than he had assumed. If he was just a rather tall child, that would certainly explain his sleepy nature, and perhaps even his lankiness and lack of propriety. But here Merlin was saying not even he knew his own age? 

Merlin just shrugged, like it was normal. "We only have one calendar in Ealdor. I wasn't noted, so." 

Was this normal for the outlying villages? For people to lose track of their own age? Their anniversaries? Arthur remembered then that Merlin had a single mother. Perhaps he was omitted from the record intentionally. The notion made his blood boil. 

"Well, do you know how long after the purge you were born then?"

Merlin's face went blank at that, then his eyes stared about as he thought. He hummed curiously. "Around a year or two, I think." 

That caught Arthur off guard. That was older than he had expected Merlin to be. He looked him up and down, realizing that, by all intents and purposes, they were around the same age. Had Merlin been the son of a lord, they'd have trained together, played in the gardens together. 

"Well?" Merlin asked, drawing Arthur out of his thoughts. "How old am I?" 

Arthur swallowed, subtracting the number from his own age quickly in his head. "About twenty summers, I'd wager."

Merlin hummed, seeming surprised himself. Arthur wondered how old Merlin had guessed he was before today. As he turned away, the light hit his cheekbones in such a way that accentuated the hollow of his eyes. Damn it all, he wasn't an energy spent kid.

No explanation for his exhaustion then.

Furious footsteps rhythmically strode down the hall and Arthur grimaced in anticipation. Morgana spun him around, forcing him to look down at her accusatory expression as she began to berate him. 

"You have to stop this!" she seethed.

Arthur looked around incredulously. "Stop what, Morgana?" 

"Merlin! He's fallen asleep about a dozen times in the past week. You know if he gets hurt it's going to be your fault!"

"My– I haven't been–"

"Do you have him up all night polishing your armor? Doing your errands for you? Please! He's hardly got the wits about him to remember his way through the castle; he looks like he gets less sleep than I do!"

"Morgana." Arthur planted his hands on each of her shoulders, forcing her to stop waving her hands about as she ranted. Still, she looked defiantly back at him. "I know." He let her go, standing straighter. He sighed hopelessly. "I've been letting him sleep in, giving him less duties. None of it seems to make a difference."

"Well I hardly think you'd know the appropriate amount of duties. If this is him with a light load, I'd dread to know how much you used to give him."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "He was excused all day, Wednesday. Same with yesterday. He's even slept in the antechamber a few times, I–" He ran his hand through his hair. "Nothing's working. I don't know what's wrong with him but, he doesn't ever seem to get any rest." 

Morgana deflated a bit, expression softening as she realized that Arthur had actually been taking her advice. 

"The last time I've seen him look even slightly energized was when we went on a quest."

"You bring him on quests like this?" 

"He insists. I tried to make him stay home and rest. But that morning, after camp, he actually seemed to have gotten some sleep. I don't know how, with how hard the ground was, but I'd say it was the first good night's rest he'd gotten since . . . well, since the last time we'd been out." 

Morgana hummed. "Perhaps he prefers sleeping on the ground?" She sounded unsure of herself. It was a ridiculous idea, but the only thing that made much sense. 

Arthur shook his head. "He always comments on the luxuries of the city, and his mattress is one of them. As far as I've heard, Merlin prefers his bed. I don't know what's wrong with him." 

Morgana looked back up at that. "Have you asked him?" 

"What?"

"Asked him; what's been keeping him up?" 

"No, I–"

"Well," Morgana said, snideness returning, "he is a person, Arthur, he can talk." 

"Unfortunately, I know."

Morgana frowned at him. 

Arthur sighed. "We don't– I'm not like you. I don't gossip with my servant or ask him how his afternoon was."

"Doesn't he do that with you?" 

"I– Yes, he does." 

"Hmf." Morgan turned away, continuing on to wherever she was headed. "Perhaps it's time you return the decency," she called over her shoulder. 

Arthur's heart sank. This wasn't going to be easy. 

That evening, Arthur returned to his chambers after training to find Merlin slumped over at the foot of his bed, a brush in one hand and a boot toppled out of the other. He snapped his mouth shut, not wanting to wake him if this was the only sleep he'd get for the day, but before he'd even had the chance to get close, Merlin moved. His eyes flew open with a sharp intake of breath and he blinked, looking as though he were trying to fathom a dream. 

"Merlin?"

He looked up at Arthur, hands coming back into his lap to act as though he hadn't stopped cleaning. "You're back," he said, noncommittally, beginning again. 

Arthur's heart began pounding in his chest. It was already a foreign thing to him; to talk so openly like friends would. Why did Merlin have to make it so much more difficult? The idiot never liked to let on that he wasn't doing well and, until recently, Arthur never was keen on letting him know he noticed. It was a sort of silent agreement, a boundary of privacy. 

But dammit, it went to lengths too great. If privacy was keeping Arthur from helping Merlin survive his simple day to day tasks then perhaps they ought to get more familiar with one another. 

Merlin stared at him as he lowered himself onto the floor beside him. Then, he pointedly looked down at his work instead of in his master's eyes. 

He'd thought all day about how to ask, about what the best way to address it was, but he wasn't cut out for this sort of work. So, he figured he'd best just come right out and say it. 

"You haven't been sleeping." 

Merlin glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, but continued to work. "I have."

"Not well, then."

Merlin bit his lip, clearly wishing he wasn't there. 

Arthur sighed. "What is it, then?" 

Merlin shook his head. "Nothing."

Arthur huffed. "Is that why I just walked in to find you sleeping on my floor?" 

Merlin's cheeks heated up and he brushed harder. Clearly it hadn't been the helpful thing to say. A long moment passed as Arthur mentally kicked himself and tried to think of a way to continue. 

"Are you just going to continue staring at me or can I work in peace?" 

Arthur, without really meaning to, placed a hand on top of Merlin's and stopped him working. He cringed when Merlin looked up at him in accusation, but held firm. He needed to follow this through. 

"What's going on?" 

Merlin tried to hold his stubborn stance for a few seconds longer, but it seemed the months-long exhaustion was catching up with him because he sagged with a slight shake of his head. "I don't know." 

Arthur made a noise in disbelief. Here he was trying, for once, and Merlin wouldn't even indulge him in the slightest. 

But Merlin was fast to correct him. "No, really," he said. "I try to sleep but I just . . ."

"What?" 

Merlin shrugged. "Nothing, I just can't."

Arthur frowned at him, inclined to believe the explanation, but Merlin's eyes had slid away, looking off to the side. Then, Merlin reached up to scratch behind his ear. 

He was lying. 

"What is it?" 

Merlin looked back at him to repeat himself, to insist that he had just as little explanation as Arthur, but when he saw the prince's face, it was clear to him that Arthur knew there was something more, and that he wasn't going to let him be until he was told what it was. So, instead, Merlin closed his eyes in resignation, and sighed. 

"I hear . . . I hear voices, when I try to sleep."

That was not what Arthur was expecting. 

"What?"

"Or a voice," Merlin continued, his voice taking on a slightly higher pitch. "It wakes me up everytime I'm almost asleep. It's not– well, it doesn't say much, just sort of enough to irritate me, really."

Gods, he was rambling. "What does it say?" Arthur interrupted. 

"What?"

"The voice; what does it say?"

Merlin shrugged. "Mostly just . . . my name."

A chill ran up Arthur's spine as what Merlin was telling him was setting in. "Have you . . ." 

Merlin stared back at him. He almost looked scared.

"Have you talked to Gaius about it?"

Merlin's face fell, and he pressed his mouth into a thin line as he looked away. 

Ah, that was the wrong thing to say then. 

After a while, Merlin sighed, resting his head in his hand. "Yes," he admitted. "He said it's normal . . . Says it's . . . stress. I don't know . . . He mostly just said it wasn't something I should worry about but . . ." His words caught in his throat, and his exhaustion had never been more apparent. "It won't let me be." 

They sat awkwardly next to one another for a while, Arthur feeling frozen in place as Merlin actually seemed to fight off a sleepy haze as he thought about what he'd just confessed to. 

Now, Arthur wasn't ignorant. He knew the people often cried devil when a man lost his mind, but he'd grown up around Gaius and had it explained to him how the mind works and why people may see and hear things that aren't real. But he'd never met someone who actually went through such a thing. He'd always imagined them being off putting, or perhaps unaware of their surroundings, despite Gaius never claiming that was the case. And Merlin was off putting now, the idea that some disembodied voice could be whispering in his ear unnerved him, and he felt his body tense as if to move away. But he didn't move. He stayed. Because Gaius taught him well and he knew that most mad men were just . . . men. And clearly Merlin had worried about this for countless nights, wary that, if he confided in anyone about this struggle, he may be seen as a lost soul instead of who he really was. 

Who Arthur knew him to be. 

Arthur put his hand on Merlin's shoulder, causing him to tense in surprise. After recognizing the touch though, he relaxed. 

"He said it could pass with time," Merlin mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. 

"Merlin," Arthur said, gripping him assuredly, "it's been months." 

Merlin nodded, looking defeated. 

"Oh."

"What?"

"Is that why you came to Camelot?"

"What?" 

Arthur looked at him like he was dumb. "For Gaius." 

Merlin's eyes widened briefly, before he looked away. "No, uh, it . . . it didn't start until I came to Camelot." He shut his eyes after he'd said it, as though regretting it. 

The chill in Arthur's spine turned to dread as another possibility came to his mind; a memory he had long attributed to being a dream. He gulped, looking Merlin up and down and removing his hand to grip his own knees. "After . . ."

Merlin shrugged, becoming more nervous again. "The stress, I guess . . . Um . . ." 

A flash of dark gold sparked in Arthur's memory; whooshing sounds and warm, beating air against his young face. And a voice. 

"The voice," Arthur said urgently, "do you know where it comes from?"

Merlin gave him a sideways glance. "My . . . head?" 

"No, does it sound like it's coming from a specific direction?" 

Merlin shook his head, still eyeing Arthur like he was afraid he'd get bitten. "No, not . . . Not really, but . . . It does feel like a call. Like it wants me to follow it."

"Where?"

Merlin opened his mouth with a frustrated expression and Arthur braced himself to hear his exasperated declaration of cluelessness, but Merlin stopped before a noise left his throat. His eyes widened and he seemed to think about it for a second. "Oh."

"Oh?"

It looked as though, to Arthur, that Merlin hadn't realized he'd known the direction of the voice until he'd been asked, the answer suddenly becoming clear only as the question came into existence. 

Arthur was about to ask Merlin to elaborate again, when he watched him look down, not at the floor, but past it. 

Heart pounding and mind racing, Arthur stood abruptly, grabbing Merlin's hand to hoist him up. 

"What–"

"Come with me." 

Arthur dragged Merlin through the halls by his wrist, flying down stairs at a speed that had Merlin nearly falling forward more than once. He could tell that Merlin was spooked. He occasionally would slow, try to tug Arthur to a stop, but the prince would just jostle his arm and pull him onward. He led them down and down again, until they were clambering into the dungeons. 

"Arthur."

"You're dismissed," he said to the guards at the far gate, sternly enough that they didn't argue. 

"Arthur," Merlin said again, eyeing the men as they marched away, "what are you doing?" 

"This way."

"Arthur, this is–" 

Suddenly Merlin stopped, causing Arthur to lose his grasp and stumble to a stop a few steps away. He turned to urge Merlin to continue, to insist that he had the answer, but then he saw the look on his servant's face. 

His eyes were wide, staring past Arthur down the steps beyond the gate.

"You heard it again? Just now?" Arthur asked, a frightening sort of excitement bubbling up within him. 

Merlin nodded humbly. "It's so close," he said, breathless.

Arthur grabbed his arm again. "Come on."

Merlin didn't budge. "Arthur, where are we?" 

Arthur gave him a grave look, more sure the closer he was to the bottom of the stairs. 

Numbly, silently, Merlin nodded, allowing him to continue on. 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the air had grown cold and dark. Arthur brandished a torch and ushered Merlin through the rough terrain of a cave. 

"What is this place?" Merlin whispered, eyes darting around wildly in the dark. 

Arthur took a moment to think through his answer. "I used to come here when I was younger," he explained. "I thought maybe it had been a recurring dream but . . ." He looked over his shoulder at Merlin, shooting him a sad smile. "I suppose I was called down here once, as well."

Merlin stared back at him in awe, something akin to hope shining in his eyes. 

"Though, I didn't hear voices in my sleep," he added as a jibe. "I found this by accident. Was just wandering the castle when I'd gotten away from my maid. Father told me I had such strange dreams when I recalled it to him." Pain poked him in the chest. "But he must know this is here." 

They rounded a corner, and the cave opened up into a giant, hollow cavern. Merlin's mouth fell open as he took it all in. All of this? Beneath the city? 

For all the voice had kept him up, however, the space was painfully quiet now. Their ears began to ring in the silence shortly after stepping up to the ledge, their footsteps projecting loudly throughout the expanses of the cave. 

"He's here," Merlin uttered. 

As soon as he'd said it, a loud soaring noise stung their ears and they flinched, hot air billowing over them as a shimmering shadow whooshed past the edge. They staggered back, Arthur planting himself between Merlin and the beast that came down upon them, holding his torch aloft as though it were his blade.

The ground shook as large talons made contact with the overhang across from them, nearly knocking them off their feet. A long, spiny neck rose up above them, a wide, white smile spreading under gleaming, golden eyes. 

A rumble rolled out of the creature's throat, and Merlin and Arthur both flinched at the thought of fire. But no.

The creature laughed. 

"I never thought I would find you here again, little Wart," it spoke, large mouth moving strangely around the human words. 

A breath left Arthur, one he hadn't noticed he was holding. He had forgotten this stupid nickname. "Dragon."

The dragon hummed in assessment. 

Merlin was trembling behind Arthur, gaping his mouth like a fish on deck. The voice that plagued him was the same that rattled his ribs in the imposing cave. Arthur felt Merlin's gaze burn into the back of his head, surely wondering how the prince had befriended a dragon of all things. 

Well, friend was a rather strong word. 

"It appears you have been hearing my calls." 

Merlin nodded, eyes wide and gleaming. Arthur was shocked to see no fear in them. 

"Why have you haunted my servant?" Arthur demanded, still standing between them. 

Another laugh accompanied by falling pebbles. "I have been waiting for his arrival for a long time, Wart. Far before I met with you in this prison." 

"Why? What do you want with me?" Merlin asked. 

Arthur spun to look at Merlin more properly. He seemed eager, awestruck. Dangerous things to be in the presence of such old magic. "Merlin, I'll handle this."

Merlin shook his head, not looking away from the dragon's leering eyes. "Tell me."

The dragon's mouth stretched wide in what they supposed was a smile. "If the prince has brought you here, then I believe the wheels of destiny have already begun to turn."

"Destiny?" Merlin asked, breathless. "What destiny?"

"Merlin." Arthur tried to warn him to be more cautious, to take a step back and let him do the talking, but the boy was transfixed. 

"Arthur is your destiny, Merlin. He is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion." 

Merlin's eyes flickered to Arthur, a doubtful look on his face that Arthur was surprised to find hurt him so deeply. He'd thought they were getting on. 

"What do you mean?" 

The dragon bowed its head, bringing itself to eye level and peering at Merlin with a hungry air. "Your gift." 

This time, Merlin's eyes widened and he stood stiffly, pointedly refusing to look in Arthur's direction as he sent him a questioning stare. He hadn't been aware Merlin had any gifts, unless the dragon was suggesting that the boy use his keen ability to annoy the living hell out of everyone to fulfill some destiny. 

"Merlin?" Arthur questioned, after the tense silence went on for too long. 

The dragon straightened, eyeing Arthur apprehensively as it waited. Arthur fought the urge to squirm under its watch. 

Merlin turned his head towards Arthur, but kept his eyes on the dragon. "So there is a reason– for my . . . gift?" he said carefully. 

Arthur didn't like the look of things one bit. Whatever Merlin had been given, he clearly didn't know what to do with it and was now taking advice from a dragon in order to figure it out! The same dragon that wanted to speak with Merlin of all people so desperately that it had poked at his poor servant's mind incessantly to the point of exhaustion. He wished the dreams he had as a child were just that; dreams. But no, he had found a great big slumbering beast beneath the castle and was only just lucky enough that this big, hulking lizard thought he apparently had a destiny great enough to let him hide down here unharmed. 

A destiny that he apparently shared with Merlin. 

"There is indeed." The dragon smiled. 

"I don't understand," Merlin gasped, clearly overwhelmed by the information. 

"Without you, Arthur will never succeed, for his enemies far surpass his allies, and it is your task to protect him." 

Arthur couldn't help it. "Merlin?" he sputtered, loudly into the echoes of the cavern. 

Merlin glared at him, but quickly turned away to avoid making eye contact. 

If Arthur wasn't mistaken, he'd almost say that Merlin seemed more afraid of him than the dragon. 

"Protect him?" Merlin asked, shifting uncomfortably. "How am I meant to do that?" 

The dragon smiled again, eyes squinting with a golden glint. Then, he turned to face Arthur, not having addressed him directly since they first arrived. "That, it would seem, is up to you." 

Arthur frowned at the beast, not having the slightest idea of what the dragon was talking about. "What?" He stared up at it, waiting for elaboration that never came. Then, he looked to Merlin, who, to his shock, looked the most frightened he'd ever seen him. "Merlin? I–"

"I have magic."

Arthur snapped his mouth shut, the words having leapt from Merlin's mouth in a frantic breath. The dragon moved, and Arthur was shocked to find that even it had sat back in alarm, quick to school its features a second later. 

"Wha–"

"I was born with it," Merlin said, voice shaking but standing incredibly straight. He still had dark circles around his eyes, but his expression was grave and determined as he kept his eyes locked on Arthur's. 

Arthur shook his head minutely. "I don't . . ." He looked to the dragon again, for an explanation that would not come. 

"I used it to save your life already, you know," Merlin continued, struggling to force his mouth to move. "At the banquet, when you fought Valiant." 

"The light?" Arthur asked, a foreign hope rising in him as he questioned his servant. The light that had guided him in those caves when he saved Merlin with the morteas flower, it had felt familiar, like a beacon leading him home. He had dreamt about that living moon many nights since. 

But Merlin looked at him confused, head tilting to the side. 

The dragon interrupted before Merlin could answer, a deep laugh like rolling boulders startling them. "Your powers are far greater than even you know, young warlock."

"Warlock?" they asked in unison. 

"Indeed," the dragon grinned, bright white teeth nearly blinding in the torchlight. "And it seems the bond between you has already begun to tie its knot." It rose up on its hind legs, wings beating hot air into their faces. "You need not know destiny to follow its path. It is a rare fate that has been bestowed upon the two of you. Dare not trespass onto another if you wish for peace and prosperity in Albion." It lifted off of its perch, rising up into the concave of the ceiling. 

"Wait!" Merlin shouted, running to the ledge. "I need to know more!" 

The dragon laughed. 

"Why Arthur?"

The prince felt like he should be offended.

"Why me? I didn't choose this! Why not find someone else?" 

"None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin!" 

Merlin huffed in annoyance.

"And none of us can escape it." 

"No!" Merlin reached forward, grasping at the chain that dangled from the dragon's leg. He horribly misjudged the distance, however, and didn't come close to touching it, instead falling forward as he frantically reached for more answers. 

"Merlin!" Arthur leapt forward, snatching Merlin by the back of his jacket and pulling him back onto the ledge. He practically threw him onto the ground, stumbling with him, but remaining on his feet. 

The sound of the dragon's wings and the rattling of the chain faded into the distance as Merlin rolled onto his back with a groan. Arthur brushed his hands off on his knees as he situated himself, heart still racing from saving Merlin from the edge. When he looked up, however, his heart stuttered to a halt. Merlin was looking up at him with immense trepidation, his fatigue over the past few months seeming to be the only thing keeping him from leaping to his feet and running.

A sorcerer. 

Arthur felt hurt at the thought that Merlin didn't trust him, after all he'd done over the past few weeks to be a good master and look after his wellbeing. The notion startled him. He'd just found out his servant had magic and his first concern was that Merlin didn't trust him? He stared down at him as he caught his breath whilst he just sat there , waiting for him to react. He still had his sword on him from training. Merlin hadn't slept in who knows how long. He was lying prone, belly up and ready to be struck down. 

Merlin flinched as a hand reached towards him, but found that it was offered in assistance and stared down the length of it at Arthur's determined face. Skeptically, he took it, and Arthur hoisted him to his feet and helped to brush him off. 

"Arthur–" Merlin swallowed, not knowing how to proceed. 

"It appears we have much to talk about." 

Merlin averted his eyes, but nodded. "You're not going to–"

"Please, Merlin," Arthur said, stepping back to face him. "I am no friend of magic but . . ." He glanced around at the vast cave. "I did bring you here, didn't I? I've toed the line of sorcery in my time. I've not swallowed my father's beliefs whole, have I?" 

Merlin chanced a shy smile, but only for a second. Then, he shrugged. "I hardly know you."

Arthur put his hand on Merlin's shoulder, about to agree. But he stopped. There's something about you, Merlin. His brow furrowed at the memory. He was Merlin's employer, and he had only been in his service for less than half a year. But he felt as though they'd known one another ten fold. 

Clearly, Merlin could sense that same, strange nostalgic feeling. "But no," he continued, looking back at Arthur with eyes too knowing, "I do know you." 

A shaky breath left Arthur and he squeezed Merlin's shoulder before steering them towards the exit. "Come on," he sighed, picking the torch up off the ground. "Let's discuss this over wine." 

"Wait," Merlin said, looking over his shoulder at him as they walked. 

"What?"

"Did the dragon call you Wart?"

"Shut up, Merlin."