Work Text:
Merlin's incantations were melodious, enigmatic like an arcane language Arthur couldn't decipher. He remained close by watching him work. Fascinated by the golden glow of his eyes, his control and competence.
He called upon the earth for protection, asked the fire and wind to cleanse and safeguard.
"It's done," Merlin said facing him. "We'll be safe now. Only good may enter here."
The modest cottage–their new home–was hidden, concealed by the darkness of the forest and its secrets. Merlin gave the wooden door a tap, it creaked open welcoming them. Arthur didn't move, ran a hand down his face.
"I know this is no life for you. Laying low, always on the run," Merlin said sounding remorseful.
"Merlin–"
Merlin sighed, shook his head. "You're not used to this. I'm sorry I dragged you with me." Merlin stroked his fingers down Arthur’s cheek, brushed his bottom lip with his thumb. Arthur closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.
They'd left in the middle of the night. Rumours of his magic had begun circulating, whispers and speculation followed them when they were out and about in the village. Running away before the Hunters could come after Merlin had been the only option. Merlin is wrong to think Arthur could ever resent him for that. He'd gladly follow Merlin to the last corners of the world as long as they stayed togehter.
He touched his lips to Merlin's, skin on skin, contact. He knew both needed to feel the other. Their closeness.They were safe. They remained within reach, their foreheads pressed, breaths mingling. "You don't ever have to be sorry. The only future I see is one with you," Arthur whispered. "Don't be scared, I won't leave. You're my favourite kind of magic. The best I've known."
Merlin gave a small laugh, nodded, buried his hands in Arthur's hair. "I'm not afraid. Not anymore."