Archive of Our Own ^beta

How could it have been, that he had hosted a sorcerer within Camelot for so many years? Right under his nose, even! A man he had trusted with his very life, had spoken secrets to that no one else would ever know, had fought alongside and had made love to within the shadows of the night. This person who looked so small and fragile at times, especially collected in his arms asleep as the morning sun streaked through the windows in rays that kissed his pale skin. Those blue eyes, dark unruly hair, too-big ears and the silliest smile that could warm the coldest of hearts—

Merlin sat in a cell in the prison dungeons right now, far away from Arthur’s bed and his arms. The last thing he was doing was smiling, and he yearned for the sun more than ever, having taken it for granted the mornings in which he spent tracing a finger along Arthur’s chest, ultimately dozing to the relaxing sounds of his breath and beating heart. These were thoughts that held him together, as he brought a hand to capture the small slivers of light that managed to sneak through the dusty cell window.  It had all been a waiting game since he had been thrown here, heavy chains binding his wrists together.

There had been no time to think of any other options that would have ensured his king’s life. They had been surrounded by bandits on all sides, separated from the knights, and Arthur, that prideful, stupid man—he was ready to take every single one of them on. He had shoved Merlin behind him, sword held tightly in his hand, and those passionate blue eyes of his were darting between every man ready to leap upon them.

Emotions had taken over logic, heart winning out over mind. It had taken the first piece of blade against skin and Merlin could pretend no more. Internal dialogues warred within as actions took place outside, an almost inhuman voice that ran shivers through Arthur’s body boomed out from behind as he turned to see the transition of blue to gold. Merlin had parted the sea, a bloody path on both sides as he shoved Arthur forward and yelled at him to run before the waves came crashing back down. While it had happened in a matter of moments, it had moved on as if it had lasted hours or more, the two of them escaping the Valley of the Fallen Kings and into freedom. And all that Arthur could hear was the roar of Merlin’s voice echoing in his ears. Except, it wasn’t Merlin’s voice. It was a sorcerer’s voice.

The pain in his eyes, the betrayal, the disbelief—Merlin could see it all when Arthur pressed the tip of the blade to his chest. Merlin held his hands up in instant surrender, could feel the sword tremble because the man holding it was trembling. He had to tear his gaze away, even when Arthur commanded he look at him. He felt the blade pierce through the fabric of his tunic, but he still didn’t look up. He would have sooner let Arthur run him through with the sword because it would have hurt a lot less. Yet Arthur didn’t, as if he knew this would have been a kinder death than to have Merlin burn at the stake, hang, or even be decapitated.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he breathed out, that last word ground out with such contempt.

“Only for you,” Merlin responded with a trembling voice. “I’m only a sorcerer for you, to protect you.”

Arthur was quiet for a time, but he hadn’t lowered his sword. Merlin dared to look up with glassy eyes, unsure of whether to speak and further explain himself, or to run as far away as he could. Truthfully, he wanted to do neither; all he wanted to do was to reassure the emotions shifting on his king’s face. He wanted to embrace him, apologize, kiss away the uncertainties and betrayal and hurt until the only thing he saw was the love that crinkled at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. The love that colored his face and made him smile as bright as the sun. The love they both cried out beneath the blankets as they came together and drowned in a mess of limbs and desperate kisses and promises and carefully tucked away secrets.

“All these years…” It only took those three words to rip apart the fleeting hope of a chance that it would all be okay. Merlin could only decide upon fleeing, or staying.

“You would have had me killed!” Merlin shouted out in a desperate voice full of fear and it was enough for Arthur to snap and throw his sword to the ground in a fitful manner. It took all of three steps and his gloved hands grabbed onto his arms so tightly but it still didn’t amount nearly as close as to the pain in his heart.

“And you think I wouldn’t have you killed now?!” Arthur yelled back in response. “Merlin! God damnit Merlin! You’re a sorcerer! You are a sorcerer!” And he shook Merlin as if somehow he could shake the magic out of him and would have the same, bumbling manservant as he loved so much. If only it were so easy to just rip away the memory of what he just saw, and go back to when they had awoken together that morning when Merlin was toying with a stubborn lock of blonde hair that never seemed to behave no matter how often it was combed. They had peppered kisses along each other’s faces, sharing quiet conversations and plans of after a simple afternoon’s patrol they would go for a ride around Camelot’s borders.

So much for those plans that had been sealed with a kiss.

“You wouldn’t—” Merlin began, and for a moment when Arthur saw the tears in his eyes and felt the tremble running down his body, he had truly considered the thought. Merlin wasn’t attacking him, wasn’t fleeing, wasn’t doing anything but looking at him with a pleading gaze. Any other man with such powers would have probably killed him on the spot, or at the very least sent him flying back enough to flee the scene. But Merlin didn’t. And Arthur just couldn’t piece together that the man who had just murdered a slew of men in the forests was the same man who stood there shaking like a helpless child wanting nothing more than his mother.

He had encountered many a sorcerer in his travels that had never been truly evil. They had died for Camelot’s cause, had saved the life of a knight, his own life, even Merlin’s life. And all these years that Merlin had been by his side, not once had he been in any sort of danger. Merlin could have had countless opportunities to kill him, especially when they shared a bed where Arthur was at his most vulnerable. But every cherished memory now became marred that dirty little secret, the reality that Merlin could have killed him. While it probably should have given the king relief in that knowledge, it only left a sour taste in his mouth. Because he never knew.

“You’ve broken the laws of Camelot,” Arthur began in a quiet voice. “You lied to me, you…betrayed me. Everything…everything we had together, Merlin—I can’t place you above the law—”

“I don’t expect you to,” Merlin replied softly, his voiced sinking to a level of defeat.

Somehow, this only upset Arthur more. “Why?”

And it confused Merlin. “Why—?”

“Why aren’t you running away? Why are you still standing here when you very well could push me away? Could disappear? If you can take out several dozen men with a few words and a sweep of your arms, why are you still here?”

For a moment, Merlin remained quiet. He was flooded with his own whys: why was Arthur asking this of him? Why wasn’t he having him arrested? Why was he looking at him with a gaze that betrayed the betrayal he was expressing earlier? Why? Merlin was terrified to think, let alone answer. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing; he wasn’t sure if there even was a right thing to say.

And the silence stretched too long and Arthur shook him again. “For God’s sake Merlin, this is your chance!” Arthur spoke with desperation, his voice hushed, and eyes wide. “You need to—”

Merlin’s lips covered Arthur’s, and the king stilled in that instant. Arthur stiffened, and his hands became soft in their grip. Merlin watched his eyes fall closed, his own following suit. He needed to wrench these tumultuous thoughts out of his mind, the questions, the doubts, the fears—they all fled when this overwhelming warmth came flooding in. The answer became so clear, shining like a beacon in the center of it all. It was so simple but so deeply rooted within that it didn’t seem possible that it could have been that. Merlin drew back, searched Arthur’s eyes once his king opened them. And he smiled. “Why, you ask…?” He began, their lips so close that Arthur could feel each word against them as Merlin spoke. “Arthur, you’re right. I could run. I could push you away. I could do so many things but I wouldn’t. Because I would only perform magic for you, and you alone.” He paused briefly, Merlin feeling tears slide down their face. “Because, you stupid clotpole of a king, I love y—”

The pain was sudden, and the darkness quick. The blunt hilt of a sword striking the back of his head had silenced Merlin, and he never heard Arthur’s screams. Nor Agravaine’s demand to seize the sorcerer who had made an attempt at manipulating the king with his magic. He also didn’t hear the argument that ensued, and Agravaine managing to convince Arthur that he was merely under a spell that this sorcerer had set him under for years, and that he knew very well that magic was nothing but an abomination. After all, magic killed Arthur’s mother. Magic had also killed Arthur’s father. And magic could have very well killed Arthur too, in the guise of a person that the king had placed so much trust upon.

“Are you really going to accept this, Merlin?” Gaius asked him when he had visited. Merlin so badly had wanted to run to the cell bars, reach out and embrace the physician. He wasn’t even allowed to do that, the chains coming up just short, and Merlin not even sure how to regard Gaius or answer his question. It wasn’t like he really had much of a choice. Well—he did—but the choice that was given to him was not going to yield in a result that he wanted. Not that he wanted to die, either, but above it all, he just didn’t want to leave Arthur.

“There’s no other way,” he finally replied, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“But your destiny—” Gaius began to protest.

“Maybe this is it, Gaius. Maybe, it’s meant to be this way.”

“You could run. You have the power. I could help you.” The physician looked distressed, his aged knuckled turning white as he gripped onto the cells for dear life. Merlin was like a son to him; there was no way he could accept him surrendering like this! “Merlin, do you even understand the seriousness of this? They’re going to put you to death.”

“I know. But Gaius, I can’t leave him. If I run, I can never return to Camelot. If I stay here, if I don’t escape…” Merlin trailed off, because he already knew that either way would have the same result. Escaping would force Merlin to never return to Camelot along with Arthur. Accepting death as part of Camelot’s laws would end Merlin’s life, and Arthur would be forced to watch him leave in the sense of a life being stripped away. It was then did the full weight of realization sink down upon Merlin, and he allowed said weight to buckle his legs and send him to the floor. It didn’t matter either way, did it? Either way, he was going to lose Arthur.

And Arthur was going to lose him.

Arthur was beside himself, pacing back and forth well into the night. He had been seen by people of every position, from friends of Merlin to officials who were as convinced as Agravaine that he had been enchanted by the sorcerer who has disguised himself as a mere serving boy. There was little he could say or do, hands tied and throat closed up. He had given Merlin that chance to run a day or so ago. But Merlin, that stubborn idiot, didn’t move even as Arthur was watching Agravaine’s approach. That stubborn idiot had kissed him instead. Had confessed his feelings to him. Had filled his heart and broke it at the same time because Arthur was forced to pass sentence on the man that was not only his friend, not only his servant, but his lover. And what Merlin had not been able to finish then, Arthur already knew.

Because he loved Merlin just as much.

“Gaius told me that you are to be the greatest sorcerer alive.”

Merlin said nothing. Only watched as the chains around his wrist fell to the ground, his confused eyes looking to Arthur and not understanding what was going on. Arthur didn’t look up, not yet, anyway. He had been busily studying Merlin’s wrists, grasping them within his own and running a thumb across the splotchy red and bruising of the skin.

“That can’t happen if you’re stuck here.”

“Arthur…”

“I don’t understand why you’re making this so difficult on yourself. Why you’re so willing to let yourself die by fire. Why you’re submitting yourself as a criminal, instead of standing up as the hero you should be—”

“Arthur!”

Arthur stopped, and looked up, and Merlin saw the tears that were there and he hesitated. His own eyes were heavy with emotion.

“What…” He managed after a moment. “What are you doing?”

Arthur smiled, and pressed his lips to those wrists that smelled faintly of rusted metal. He closed his eyes, quiet, before he sought Merlin’s gaze, “Doing what I should have made you do in the first place. I’m letting you go.”

“You can’t—I…I mean—how? How are you going to explain this?” Merlin asked him with an incredulous stare. His voice lowered, as if ashamed to explain his guilt, his lies and deceit. “After all, I have mag—”

Arthur silenced him, a finger pressed to the center of Merlin’s mouth. Merlin began to protest with a sound, at least, until his king’s finger was replaced with his lips, and the two shared a kiss with only the dim illumination from the torches to witness this. Merlin’s eyes fluttered shut, and he raised his hands up to cradled Arthur’s face. Nudged back against the wall, Merlin felt Arthur’s strong body up against him, their breaths hot against each other. They kissed until they could kiss no more, Arthur drawing back from Merlin and the two of them panting, eyes meeting each other’s with emotion storming across.

“You don’t.” He began firmly. “The only witness to that is me. Not even my uncle can back up his claims without me, and the only thing I am going to say is that you saved my life. Which isn’t a lie.” He paused, and looked away briefly, before looking to Merlin once again. “I can’t erase what I saw, and I’m not even saying I’m okay with this. But, there’s something more important to me than this damned laws right now. Someone more important.”

“Someone more important…?” Merlin repeated, eyebrows furrowed.

Arthur suddenly laughed, though Merlin couldn’t find what was funny about what he had just said. “Honestly, Merlin? You’re supposed to be the greatest sorcerer alive? Certainly a sorcerer requires some kind of brain to be able to cast his magic.”

“Yeah, well, don’t see how the once and future king being a right genius either!” Merlin huffed with an indignant tone. This only enabled Arthur to kiss him once again, murmuring against his lips.

“You’re more important to me, Merlin. More than upholding Camelot’s laws.” Brief pause. “I don’t want to lose what we’ve built together. Call me selfish, call me hypocritical—”

Merlin smiled. “Okay, you selfish, hypocritical…”

“I love you.” Arthur confessed before Merlin could finish his sentence, and he grabbed Merlin by his hands and tugged him out of the prison cell. “I love you, Merlin. And there’s no way I can stand by and watch you die. I can’t and I won’t. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you’ll live to see the next day and the day after that—until you become that greatest sorcerer that you are destined to be, or die trying.”

Merlin couldn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say. He only held onto one of Arthur’s hands as they made their way from the dungeon, up the stairs, and anyone who dared to say a word—Agravaine included—were quickly silenced by the determination in Arthur’s eyes. The silence stretched, up until Merlin heard the door to his king’s chambers open and close, and he was guided to a bed that he was certain he would never see again, let alone lay in.

The night had passed with pleasures and cries, bodies writhing against one another and tears kissed away. The pyre that Merlin was to be burned at the next day was dismantled, and Arthur held the man closer than ever as the sun rose over to greet Camelot in its new day, with rays kissing Merlin’s pale skin. Merlin stirred and looked up at his king, and he reached up to touch his face gently, Arthur turning his face to kiss upon that palm.

“Arthur?”

“Mm?”

“That day—before…before it all…I wanted to tell you…”

“Tell me…”

“I love you.”

Arthur smiled faintly. “I know.”

“And, I wanted to say that, as much as you are willing to ensure that I will be the greatest sorcerer, I am willing to ensure that you fulfill being that once and future king that you are destined to be.” Merlin paused, then smiled. “Or die trying.”

“Well, hopefully,” Arthur replied, “neither of us will have to die trying.”

As if to immortalize those words, Merlin rose up and kissed Arthur.

Hopefully, indeed.