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“Penny for your thoughts,” asked Merlin, though he knew. Arthur’s eyes were on the newly-wed Guinevere and Lancelot as they sat, beatific, at the Round Table. The sickening joy on their faces made Merlin’s gut roil with anguish.
“As king, I live in splendour and my riches are vast,” Arthur mused. “And yet I have nothing.”
“Such maudlin words.” The stench of tavern-quality ale rolled off Arthur in waves; it was a miracle he hadn’t collapsed like the rest of the revellers. “C’mon, it’s your bedtime.”
“Oh, shut up.”
But he obeyed, leaving alongside Merlin. They walked until the corridor grew dark, and then he suddenly pinned Merlin against the wall and kissed him, hard.
“Tell me you won’t leave,” Arthur breathed, his terrible loneliness a tangible heat between their mouths. Merlin nearly wept.
“I could never leave you,” Merlin promised.
“Will you always love me?”
“Always.”
They kissed again.