Archive of Our Own

Arthur leans back against the sloped earth, mind spinning as he contemplates the events of the past day. The Disir, Mordred, Merlin - nothing makes sense. He feels like he's missing something, seeing a glimpse out of the corner of his eye but never knowing what it is. 

Have I not been an honorable king? Have I not made Camelot a fair and just kingdom?

You have denied the Old Religion; dismissed its faith; persecuted its followers, even unto slaughter.

If you wish to save all you hold dear; if you wish to save your kingdom, embrace the Old Religion. Learn her ways. Bow to the Goddess.

He's used magic in the past, has had no qualms about using it for his own gain while condemning others for the same. At best, he is a hypocrite. At worst, a tyrant. He has seen enough to know that magic can be dangerous, is dangerous, but that it can be used for good. But does the good outweigh the bad? 

Morgana had been corrupted by magic, turning against them. He's been attacked by sorcerers more times than he can count. Is it possible to allow magic free, knowing that it has the power to corrupt, to bring destruction? Surely the Old Ways are evil. Gaius has told him of the things the Priestesses used to do-sacrifices, murder, enslavement-the list goes on and on. What good can a religion be that condones such evil? 

On the other hand, he cannot dismiss the faith of an entire people, cannot persecute them for their beliefs as long as they do no harm. There must be good sorcerers, right? Surely, not all of them can be evil? He knows he had promised to respect the Druids, knows he can no longer perpetuate the slaughter Uther had condoned. But can he accept magic? Is Mordred's life worth it?

He hears the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs as Merlin collects firewood nearby, the crackling flames near his feet throwing the woods into shadow. His thoughts turn to Merlin, his strange, wise manservant - nay, friend - who has fought beside Arthur for years. Merlin had grown up with a sorcerer, he remembers. Will, that was his name. Merlin never had a problem with Arthur seeking out sorcery, such as the old man who - according to Gaius, had not - killed his father. Merlin lives with Gaius, who Arthur knows had practiced magic before the Great Purge. So, it follows that Merlin must accept sorcery. 

And yet. And yet, Merlin has showed a strange reluctance to speak about it, has outright turned Arthur against it on occasion. 

Morgause is lying. She's a sorceress. She's tricked you.

That had been the gist of Merlin's argument, one to stop him from killing his father. It had worked, but it had never left Arthur's mind. Every harsh rule Uther implemented, every unreasonable request, it was there in the back of Arthur's mind. What if? What if Morgause was telling the truth?

It would mean that his entire life was a lie. It would mean his father wasn't the man he thought he was. But he knows that now, doesn't he? He'd seen the darkness in his father's ghost plain, when he'd tried to kill Guinevere, when he'd attacked his knights, when he'd attacked Merlin. 

Merlin has-

Merlin has what? What was Uther going to say? 

Lately, he's realizing that Merlin isn't the same person he'd been when they met, and not for the better. Merlin is cold, withdrawn, hardly smiling anymore, a hardness to his eyes that has no place in a servant. There's always been something about him that Arthur can never grasp, inconsistencies and terrible lies that lead nowhere, bouts of strange wisdom interspersed with apparent idiocy. 

Merlin had known this place was sacred. But how?

As Merlin makes his way back towards the fire, kindling in hand, Arthur gathers the courage to ask.

"How did you know this place was sacred?"

"That's obvious," Merlin says shortly. He sets the firewood by Arthur's feet and crouches down next to the fire.

"Pretend it isn't."

"Everything here...it's so full of life. Every tree. Every leaf. Every insect." Arthur raises his head, frowning in confusion at Merlin, who peers out at the clearing as if seeing something beautiful, invisible to Arthur. "It's as if the world is...vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself," he finishes softly, glancing at Arthur.

"You feel all that?"

"Don't you?"

Arthur shakes his head. Merlin's expression falls, face closing off, and he stares into the flames pensively for a moment before getting up and resettling on the other side of the small ravine. Arthur replays Merlin's words, unsure what to make of them. Who can feel that?

"What will you do?" Merlin asks.

Arthur sighs, shifting on his bedroll. "I don't know," he answers honestly. "My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred. But I've seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery." Is that really true? "In my own time, Morgana's used it for nothing but evil." 

He turns his gaze back to Merlin, whose face is unreadable. "What would you do? In my place?"

He knows he rarely admits it, but he relies on Merlin's advice. Merlin is his rock, his support, quite possibly the one person he trusts above all others. In his own selfishness and cowardice he's belittled Merlin, treating him as nothing but a servant after all these years, elevating all others around him without compunction. In truth, he cannot bear to have Merlin leave his side. It's wrong, he knows; terribly wrong. Sometimes he wonders why Merlin stays, why he puts up with Arthur. He does not deserve his loyalty.

"Me?" Merlin replies, something evasive in his eyes. "I'm just a lackey, maker of beds."

That's rubbish, and Arthur knows it. Merlin always tells Arthur what he thinks. Except when it comes to magic, Arthur realizes. 

"Lackeys can be wise."

Merlin seems to struggle for a moment, breaths hitching and eyes flickering. Arthur narrows his own, feeling he's hit something important, something that may be the answer to his questions.

"It's not like you to be silent."

"The kingdom's future is at stake." 

"And a man's life," Arthur reminds, getting that same niggling feeling. This isn't about Mordred. Merlin has never liked Mordred, come to think of it. He'd yelled at Arthur to kill him in Ismere, and Arthur doesn't miss the suspicious glances Merlin throws his way whenever Mordred so much as comes within ten feet of Arthur. 

No, Merlin doesn't care about Mordred. And that's a terrifying thought, that Merlin; kind, gentle Merlin, doesn't care about a man's life. 

"You must protect Camelot," Merlin says after a moment, voice layered with intensity. "You must protect the world you spent your life building. A just and fair kingdom for all." 

Does that include sorcerers? Arthur wonders. 

"You'd have me sacrifice a friend." It's not a question. 

There's the same shifting of eyes, pursing of lips, before Merlin answers. "I would have you be the king you're destined to be."

It's not an answer. Merlin is dodging the question, throwing Arthur off with lines carefully crafted to be evasive. It frustrates him. Why won't Merlin give him a straight answer? Why must everyone lie to him, tell him what they think he wants to hear?

What does Merlin really think about magic? That is the question, he thinks. There is something about magic and Merlin, something he's always known and never quite pieced together. Something he's never wanted to examine too closely, because it whispers betrayal. Or it used to.

He sits forwards, peering intently at Merlin. "If I do save Mordred, all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want?"

Is that what Merlin wants? 

Merlin doesn't respond, still breathing unevenly as if struggling with a great weight. As if struggling with fear. 

Is that fear because of him? Has he caused that look in Merlin's eyes, caused his closest friend to keep secrets from him in terror of what Arthur would do? Is this how all sorcerers feel? He thinks of the sound of screams, of children falling amidst red cloaks. He thinks of Gwen's father. He thinks of Merlin's friend Will, saving his life using magic, only maybe, it wasn't Will at all.

"Perhaps my father was wrong," he says, needing to make Merlin trust him, to show that Arthur will listen. "Perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought."

There's a sheen to Merlin's eyes, suffering carved into the line of his shoulders, the way he shifts with every breath, as if he can't keep still. 

"So what should we do?" Arthur asks. "Accept magic?" Merlin takes a shaky breath, tears glistening in his eyes. "Or let Mordred die?"

It's an easy choice, if he's right. If Merlin really is.....if he's really a sorcerer, then there should be no choice. Accept magic.  

But Merlin blinks damp eyes rapidly, a small grimace of pain flashing across his expression before he looks down, swallowing. He shifts, sitting back, and he's still not answering, still struggling with something, still not looking at Arthur. 

Finally he sits forwards, and there's something resigned in his expression though he still blinks back tears. Arthur narrows his eyes, holding his breath for Merlin's response, and watches the light go out of his eyes as they flick up to meet Arthur's. 

"There can be no place for magic in Camelot."

Arthur keeps his expression carefully neutral and lays back, watching Merlin. Why? he thinks. Why had Merlin said that? Was Arthur wrong? Is Merlin really just a normal servant, albeit a brave one?

No. There is no other way the pieces align, if not with Merlin and magic in the same breath. Maybe Merlin isn't a sorcerer, maybe, but there's still something there, something he's not telling Arthur. There must be a reason why when choosing between magic and Mordred's life, Merlin had been tortured by the decision. And it's not because of Mordred. That leaves only magic.

Whatever else, he knows this: Merlin would never betray him. Not unless Arthur gave him a reason.

He hopes he hasn't.

He hopes it's not too late.

When dawn starts to break, light filtering through the trees and glistening off dew drops that hang on the tips of leaves; when the birds start to sing, heralding the start of a new day, Arthur rises. Merlin is drawn and pale, normally vibrant blue eyes dead and full of sorrow. He follows Arthur like a shadow, trailing behind even as they enter the cave and stand before the Disir.

"You have returned," they say. "Is your decision made?"

"It is." He takes a breath, thinking of Merlin's eyes. "I am willing to learn of the Old Religion. I am not sure if I am willing to accept it, not yet, but you have my word that I will do everything in my power to make sure it receives the consideration it deserves."

He hears Merlin's intake of breath behind him but doesn't turn. The Disir seem to consider, and Arthur wishes he could read their shadowed faces.

"Very well," they finally say. "But beware, Arthur Pendragon. Your time runs short. Fail to embrace the Old Religion in time, and Camelot will fall."

Arthur nods, swallowing. "Thank you." He gives a short bow and turns, exiting the dim cave and emerging into the sunlight.

"What have you done?" Merlin asks from beside him, voice cold as ice.

"I did what was right."

"Are you really going to allow magic in Camelot?" There's bitterness in Merlin's voice, an undercurrent of disbelief that says he doesn't think Arthur will actually do it.

Arthur stops, turning to him. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I can't make a decision like that without considering all the facts. I don't understand sorcery. Perhaps my views, my father's views, were wrong, or maybe not. I won't know until I look."

There's the same struggle in Merlin's face, the same torment in his eyes, but it is not Arthur's place to call him out. He does not want to be an accuser, not to Merlin. He wants Merlin to come to him as a friend, to know that Arthur would never harm him.

That will take time.

"Come on," he says, starting to walk again. "Let's get back to Camelot."

Mordred is alive.

Mordred is alive and well, and Merlin's face is wrought with disappointment and a darkness that sends shivers down Arthur's spine. The first thing he does after getting settled in is saddle Merlin with as many chores as he can think of to keep him occupied while he seeks out Gaius, who it seems Merlin had already told about Arthur's decision. Unlike Merlin, he seems pleased, and is happy to answer Arthur's questions. 

Arthur soaks up the knowledge eagerly, sitting riveted as Gaius speaks of magic and sorcerers and things Arthur had never known. He had never known that magic could be used in such small ways, in such good ways - keeping knives sharp, helping crops grow, warding away sickness and bad luck, making one's home warmer, things he'd never thought of before but open his eyes to the uses of magic. 

Most sorcerers can't do much of anything, Gaius informs him. Maybe light a fire, move small objects, but not much else. Magic takes hard work; years of study, but to some it comes more naturally than others. Some cannot escape their magic. Some cannot control it without practice.

So magic is a choice, but not always. Not always. And if magic isn't a choice, then innocent people have been killed for something they can't control.

A whole religion, a whole way of life, a whole race of people have been unjustly persecuted. 

"I want to make this a fair and just kingdom for all," Arthur says, sitting across from Gaius on the bench. "And that includes sorcerers. Good ones, at least. There must be some out there. Or maybe not anymore." He sighs. "Not after they've been persecuted for so long. They have every reason to hate me, Gaius. How can I ever make it right?"

"You're a good king," Gaius replies. "The people will see that."

It's not the answer he wants. He suspects Gaius is only telling him what he thinks he wants to hear.

He stands, suddenly needing to speak to Merlin. Merlin has always known what to say, and Arthur values his judgement above almost all others. 

"Thank you, Gaius. This has been most informative. Can I count on your help in changing the laws?"

"Of course, Sire." Gaius bows his head. With a nod of gratitude Arthur leaves, heading for his chambers. First he stops by Gwen's chambers, next to his, filling her in on everything that had happened and what he'd learned.

"Do you think I did the right thing?" he asks.

"Oh Arthur," she says, taking his hands and smiling. "Yes, of course. I've often thought the same things. If anyone can figure out how to bring magic back to the kingdom peacefully, it's you."

"Thank you, Guinevere. I will need your support. I fear the council will not like what I have to say."

"No, they won't. But you're the King. They have to listen to you."

"I suppose." He raises her hand to his lips, kissing it briefly. "I must speak to Merlin."

"Merlin?"

"Yes. He's....well, he's not been himself lately."

Gwen nods, brow furrowed. "I had noticed that, but I wasn't sure why."

"Gwen, have you..." Arthur takes a breath. "Have you noticed anything strange, about Merlin?"

Gwen laughs slightly. "Strange? Yes, he is a bit strange."

"I mean..." Arthur shakes his head. "Different. Unnatural, perhaps."

Gwen narrows her eyes, looking wary, and Arthur suddenly is sure. "Arthur, what are you talking about?"

"I think you know."

Gwen swallows, eyes flicking to the side in an obvious tell. "Arthur, you know Merlin would never betray you-"

"I know."

"Do you?" Gwen has a fierce gleam in her eyes. "He loves you, Arthur. I don't think you realize just how much he's done for you. He's given his life for yours, over and over, has stayed by your side for years, and yet you continue to treat him like a servant. He should be sitting at your right at the Round Table, and instead he stands in the shadows. You have made commoners knights, have made a serving girl your queen, and yet you do not show the man you love even an ounce of consideration for all he has sacrificed for you, all he has done, every day he has stayed by your side without complaint. Merlin is the bravest, most loyal man I have ever met, magic or no, and you don't deserve him. None of us do."

She finishes in a rush, breathing heavily, one finger jabbing into Arthur's chest.

"My lord," she tacks on, suddenly blinking in surprise. She takes a step back. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I'll just-"

"Gwen."

"-I shouldn't have said that-"

"Guinevere!"

Gwen's mouth snaps shut and she colors, looking less like a queen and more like the awkward serving girl who he'd first known. He's thankful for the reminder.

"I agree," he says. "Completely. I've been a fool, Guinevere. All these years, I never knew..."

"I think you did," Gwen says softly. "I think we all did."

"Perhaps. Perhaps I just didn't want to believe it."

"I suspected, but I never...I never said anything. It would have made it real."

"Why would he stay?" Arthur asks. "Why would he stay, knowing that I would kill him if I knew?"

Gwen presses her hand to his chest, eyes soft. "Because he loves you, Arthur. And you love him. I think you both know you could never hurt him."

Arthur opens the door slowly, peering into his chambers to see Merlin sat on the furs in front of the fire, slowly polishing a piece of armor. Slipping inside, Arthur crosses over, sinking down onto the furs next to him. Merlin looks up, fingers pausing in their movements, firelight playing over his face in the dim room and casting shadows under his eyes. He looks tired, that same spark missing from his eyes, calloused fingers glistening with polishing oil. They are not the fingers of a sorcerer, of someone who uses power idly. They are the hands of a servant, rough and scarred, telling of hard work for little reward.

Who would do this? Who would be a servant, when they held so much power? Or maybe Merlin simply doesn't hold that much power. Maybe it is only tricks, like juggling eggs that appear from thin air. Still, to stay a servant under a magic-hating king; it is enough to twist the purest man's soul into the image of bitterness. It is not magic that corrupts, Arthur thinks. It is fear.

"You're upset about something," Arthur says, breaking the silence.

Merlin shrugs, starting to rub at the plate again.

"You don't like Mordred."

Merlin looks up at that, something flashing in his eyes before he covers it with a quizzical look. "Mordred?"

"Why else would you condemn magic?"

Merlin swallows, looking away. "Maybe I know how dangerous magic can be."

"So do I, yet I'm going to lift the ban."

Merlin glances over at him, blinking in surprise. "What?"

"I'm lifting the ban," Arthur repeats. "Magic won't be illegal anymore, or at least good magic won't be." He assesses Merlin's reaction carefully, but Merlin gives nothing away except for the turmoil in his eyes. "I spoke with Gaius. He explained everything."

"Everything?"

"That magic can be used for good. That some people don't choose it. That sorcerers have been unjustly persecuted and hunted for years."

"You really believe that?"

"I do." He makes sure to hold Merlin's eyes. "And I know there's nothing I can do to make up for the wrongs I've done. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. But I want to make sure not another innocent sorcerer suffers. And to do that, I need you, Merlin. Whatever your reasons for rejecting magic, I need to know that you're with me on this."

He swears, in the glimmer of firelight, that Merlin's eyes glisten with tears. Merlin swallows and nods, blinking rapidly.

"I'm with you."

Arthur smiles. "Good. Because I'm promoting you."

"Promoting...me?"

"We both know it's long past time you had a seat at the Round Table, Merlin." Arthur reaches out to squeeze his shoulder before standing. "Go. Take the evening off. I expect you bright and early for the council meeting tomorrow morning, where you'll be sitting beside me."

Merlin stands, mouth hanging open. "I-what-you-?"

Arthur nods towards the door. "Go."

Merlin blinks before moving towards the door as if in a trance. He pauses with one hand on the handle, turning slightly.

"Arthur..." His voice is rough. "Thank you."

"You too."

The door shuts behind him, leaving Arthur alone. 

The next morning Merlin seems slightly bewildered as Arthur gestures for him to take the seat to his right, Gwen beaming from his other side. Arthur makes a private note to get Merlin fitted for new clothes, as his shabby servant's clothes really aren't court appropriate. 

The council also seems a bit confused but not shocked at Arthur's decision, and Gaius gives Merlin a proud look from across the table. Arthur's glad for the lack of reaction, knowing what he says next is going to send the room into an uproar. 

He takes a deep breath, and begins.

As he speaks, he watches the faces of the council, cataloging their reactions. Some look appalled, some thoughtful, only Gaius, Gwen, and Merlin staring at Arthur with expressions of pride and happiness. He repeats what Gaius told him, explaining the truth about magic and why the laws need to change, explaining that it isn't evil, and watches as his words seem to sink in, faces shifting from horror to contemplation.

"I propose not an abolishment but an amendment of the laws," he finishes, "one that allows magic to be used for good while also preventing the abuses of magic to ensure the safety and stability of the kingdom. It is time we stopped the hatred and fear of magic that has infected this kingdom like a plague, turning us against one another and creating enemies out of peaceful people. It's time we acknowledged the wrongs of our past and look forward to the future, one in which ever man, woman, and child is free at last."

There's a pregnant pause, and then the room erupts into chaos.

Arthur stands still as Merlin undoes his cloak with trembling fingers, laying it carefully over the chest before helping Arthur pull off his mail. They had been in council all day, only breaking for lunch, and many of the new laws are already under way. Of course, there was much protestation and arguments and strife among the council members, but eventually most, if not all, had acceded to Arthur and at least tentatively supported legalizing magic in some form. All had seen Uther's reign of terror, and most had been alive before the Great Purge, hesitantly speaking up about a time when magic was used freely.

Uther had lied, had told everyone of the chaos and destruction before the Great Purge, but in truth it was a good time. Perhaps there were too little restrictions on magic, and people used it for their own ends, but Camelot was at peace. Arthur's heart aches thinking of all the ways his father had lied to justify his killing of thousands. 

Merlin had sat through it all, face carefully composed but eyes swimming with turmoil, not saying a word in magic's defense. He had looked teary-eyed and proud at Arthur's speech, and glared at those who spouted Uther's hatred of magic, but had remained strangely silent for someone for whom the outcome was a matter of life and death.

"You're quiet," Arthur comments, as Merlin unlaces his gambeson. "I was expecting you to speak up in council."

"Sorry," Merlin replies. "I thought...well, my opinion wasn't necessary."

"Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I am just a servant." Merlin pulls the gambeson off his shoulders, slinging it over the dressing screen.

"Servants can be wise. I made you my advisor, Merlin."

"The council doesn't know me," Merlin points out. "They wouldn't take the word of a servant, especially about something like magic."

"It'll change," Arthur says firmly. "They'll change."

Merlin unlaces Arthur's tunic slowly, so close Arthur can count his eyelashes. "Maybe."

"What's this really about, Merlin?" Arthur asks softly. 

Merlin frowns, eyes trained on the laces. "Nothing. Why?"

Arthur sighs. "I don't understand you. You denounce magic, with tears in your eyes, and won't say a word on its behalf even though it looks like it's killing you. Why?"

Merlin shakes his head, still not meeting Arthur's eyes. "It's nothing."

"It's something. Tell me."

Merlin remains silent, not even keeping up the pretense of unlacing Arthur's shirt. 

"Why are you so upset about this?" Arthur prods. "If I-" He throws his hands up. "If I'm doing something wrong, tell me. I can't fix it if I don't know what it is."

Merlin shakes his head. "You can't fix it."

Arthur wants to shake him. "Why?"

"You just can't."

Arthur grips Merlin's shoulders tightly. "Merlin, look at me."

Merlin's eyes stay firmly fixed over Arthur's shoulder, face drawn in pain. Arthur gives Merlin a slight shake, repeating himself. "Look at me."

Finally, Merlin does, eyes brimming with tears and full of an anguish that takes Arthur's breath away.

"I-" Merlin starts, voice breaking. He takes a shuddering breath, shoulders vibrating with tension under Arthur's hands and soft sobs torn from his chest. He shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut briefly.

"Just tell me."

"I'm a sorcerer," Merlin blurts. He trembles under Arthur's hands. "I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur, only for you."

He is staring at Arthur, face streaked with tears, waiting for a response with hitching sobs. Waiting for rejection. Waiting for Arthur to hate him, to shove him away, to call him a liar. And it would break Merlin, Arthur knows that. Merlin is baring his soul, standing before Arthur terrified and broken, sharing a secret he'd kept for a decade out of fear, and Arthur holds his heart in his hands.

So Arthur lifts a hand and cups Merlin's cheek, thumbing away a tear that slips from his eye.

"I know," he says. "And I'm sorry." Merlin starts to pull away but Arthur holds him fast, feeling his own eyes fill with tears. "I'm sorry that you didn't think you could tell me. I'm sorry that I persecuted and killed sorcerers, that I condemned magic in front of you. I'm sorry for how I treated you. I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I don't deserve your loyalty, but I promise that you will never have to be afraid again."

He takes a shaky breath, seeing disbelief and hope written on Merlin's face.

"You knew?" Merlin whispers, searching his eyes.

Arthur feels the corners of his lips curve up. "I think I've always known."

Merlin sobs, and then he is breaking apart in Arthur's arms, shattering under the force of years of pain and fear and lies as Arthur holds him close, mending the cracks one by one. 

Merlin finally pulls back, wiping at his eyes furiously, and Arthur frowns, still nothing making sense.

"Merlin," he says. "At the Disir, why did you try and get me to reject magic?"

"Because he's going to kill you," Merlin replies, voice like broken glass. "I have everything I've ever wanted, and he's going to kill you."

"Who?"

"Mordred."

"How do you know?"

"I saw it."

"You...saw it," Arthur repeats in disbelief. 

"The Druid, on the way to Ismere. He showed me a vision. You're on a battlefield. Mordred wounds you and you fall." Merlin presses his lips together. "I've been warned about him before, and I can't ignore it."

"So that's why you said that? To try and kill Mordred? On nothing more than superstition." Arthur feels sick. Since when is Merlin willing to take an innocent man's life?

"It's not superstition. Mordred is destined to kill you."

"No. You can't know that. Besides, that's not going to happen now."

Merlin frowns. "What do you mean? Mordred is alive."

"The Disir said that if I rejected magic, I would lose everything, but if I accepted it...." Arthur grips Merlin's shoulders. "You complete idiot. The key to preventing your...vision or whatever was accepting magic."

"But..." Merlin blinks rapidly. "No, that's...it can't-it can't be that simple."

"It is. You idiot, it is."

Merlin lets out a breath. "Oh." He looks up at Arthur. "Oh."

"Now you get it."

"Mordred isn't going to kill you," Merlin breathes.

"Yes."

"You're legalizing magic."

"Yes."

"Oh."

And suddenly Merlin's lips are on his, warm and soft, hands fisted in Arthur's tunic as he crushes their mouths together. He tastes like apples and wine and Arthur is drunk on him, song bursting in his heart and filling him up with a golden glow. 

"You're going to tell me everything," Arthur breathes as he breaks the kiss to press his forehead against Merlin's. "All these years, Merlin."

Merlin nods against him, their breaths mingling in the space between. "I promise."

There will be time. After all, they have the rest of their lives.