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Chapter Text

Arthur did not enjoy Princess Lorelle’s company. In fact, he detested it. 

He had been toting her around Camelot for an obnoxious three days, and he was really starting to despise the sight of her shimmering taffeta gowns bouncing down the courtyard steps toward him. 

It wasn’t that she was ugly. No, she was quite a looker. 

She was insanely kind, incredibly multi talented and had a good mind for those kinds of tricky riddles Arthur could never solve. Arguably, Arthur should be quite taken with a woman like that. He’d certainly had many people tell him as much. 

But she just asked so many questions . 

On and on, ‘ Where are they going? Who is that? How are you? Did you know that-? ’ and forever onward until the king’s head was spinning round and round so fast he thought it might just drop off his shoulders. 

Merlin, of course, was terribly unhelpful about the whole thing. He teased Arthur relentlessly as he prepared him for bed every night. As he pulled Arthur’s sleep tunic over his head, he’d say one thing or another about how, ‘ Isn’t she lovely? Why I’d give my left arm to spend a day with a lady like that. ’ To which Arthur would always counter with the fact that Merlin didn’t actually like women a great deal. 

Merlin would somehow ‘accidentally’ elbow him after that remark. 

However annoying Merlin was, though, his mindless prattle was a welcome familiarity in the midst of all the foreign, equally mindless prattle from visiting ladies. 

Ah, yes. Ladies plural . 

The council had scarcely taken a break in three months, inviting some new noble lady over to stay at the castle nearly every week. 

First it was Lady Mildgyth, then Naida, then Rhoslyn, Wynflaeth, Susanna, Sable, Posy and so on. 

All in an effort to finally get Arthur married. 

Arthur desperately did not want to get married. At least to any of those noble women. They all doted upon him like every word out of his mouth was sent straight from the diary of an angel. It made him extremely uncomfortable and increasingly hesitant to make any of them queen. He wanted someone by his side who would call him out on his mistakes and treat him like a human being. 

That was why he was sitting in a council meeting, trying his best to ignore the hopeful looks shot at him every couple of seconds by his advisors. 

The sun was streaming through the cracks in the curtains, and the window was edged open just enough for Arthur to hear the faint chirps of cheerful birds. It was a fine day. 

Pity that Arthur would be in too sour of a mood to enjoy it. 

“....So...? What does his Majesty think of the Princess Lorelle...?” one advisor piped up tentatively. 

“His Majesty thinks that the Lady will not do for a queen,” Arthur quipped, tapping his nails irritably on the table-top. 

“But sire, this is the eighth lady in as many-”

“And who’s fault is that? I clearly do not intend to take a wife, so I don’t know why you insist on pushing the matter.”

The advisors all squirmed in their seats. “If we may, sire-”

“You may not,” the king interjected.

The advisors continued anyway. “What was so displeasing about the Princess Lorelle? Surely she is a fine enough girl to wife...?”

“The same thing as with the last seven women you’ve made me parade around; She speaks as if I’m always right. How can you honestly expect such a limp sock-puppet of a person to be an effective leader?” 

The advisor’s faces all pinched in like a bunch of agitated toads. Arthur felt a sudden urge to poke them with the nearest stick until they croaked at him and hopped back into their pond. “...Well technically, she wouldn’t be the one doing the ruling,” one amphibious advisor corrected. 

Arthur waved him off. “Nonsense. Any spouse of mine would have an equal hold on the land. They are to live by my side, not under.”

A councilor leaned out over the table, pleadingly. “Think of the realm, Your Grace. There is the matter of a lack of heir. You will need someone to inherit the throne.”

Arthur, who had preferred to sweep the heir issue under the nearest rug until now, was left entirely speechless. He supposed he could name an heir if that’s what it came down to, but he was nowhere near old enough to warrant serious concern, and he was frankly, a little offended. 

The council, mistaking his silence for agreement, began listing off options. 

“We could invite Lady Alba over next. Or perhaps Princess Lavinia would be more to your tastes!” 

“Oh yes, I heard she’s quite the dark beauty!” one councilor espoused. “And such a mind for diplomatic tactics! I believe they put her in charge of all court functions last winter.”

“Countess Sigrid has also been recently widowed. Poor dear, I really do pity her.”

“But she hasn’t been widowed so recently that remarriage would be improper, would it?”

“Oh no, I’m sure she’d be grateful, in fact, to have such a well respected husband. Countess to Queen. A fortuitous match indeed!”

“Ah! If we require another option, another may be at hand! We could host Lady Heloise. If I do so recall, she and Our Majesty were betrothed at one point, in youth. Perhaps it’s time to revisit the arrangement?” 

Over the course of this exchange, Arthur had been clenching the edge of the table cloth tighter and tighter in his fists, and was unsure whether or not his fingers would snap off at that point. He felt as if the room were spinning on an unstable axis. Being talked about as if he weren’t there was making his lungs expand to a painful capacity, pressing against his ribcage like an angry dog raring to get out. He hated, hated, Hated It. He wanted to let the dog burst out of his chest to bite the heads off of every last one of the councilors at the table.

It was then that the coarse beginnings of an idea occurred to him; Something, anything to get his advisors to shut the hell up.

The idea tumbled out of his mouth in its scratchiest form, barely processed, and barely reflected upon.

“I AM ALREADY MARRIED,” he blurted. 

The council did indeed shut the hell up. 

They all collectively glanced at each other and turned back to their king.

A king who was just now realizing the full meaning of his words in their entire, and glaringly obvious stupidity. 

“...And who is it you’ve gone and married yourself to?” one councilor prompted. 

Who was Arthur married to? Now that was a good question.

Certainly not one Arthur could answer at this juncture. 

But Holy Mother of Pearl! Who was he married to?! 

If only Merlin were here. He’d be able to come with up with some clever answer that would have the council’s jaws sealed shut and out of Arthur’s hair for at least a week. That man could put any haughty noble in their place within an instant and made sure to do so to Arthur nearly every opportunity he got. The king certainly had Merlin to thank for the current size of his head; It would have blown up to the size of Kilgharrah if not for him. 

But alas, Merlin had neglected to attend the meeting that afternoon in favor of accompanying Gaius on a house visit. Something about technically being a trained physician or some nonsense.

It was at this moment that Part Two of Arthur’s brilliant plan came into play.

And with all the foolhardy confidence of a man doomed to die, he simply responded with; “Merlin.”

Dear god, what had he done?

His froggy congregation of advisors all turned to each other, mouths opening and closing soundlessly. “Merlin... the servant boy?”

Arthur gulped, nodding. “Yes, that Merlin.”

“He is... your mistress?”

“My husband , yes.”

“...And what, exactly, prompted this marriage?”

Arthur coughed into his sleeve, wishing intensely at that moment that he could evaporate himself into a listless vapor. “ Ilovehim! ” he blabbed, the words dripping off his tongue like jelly off a spoon. “He’s- Yes. I love him. Merlin. Who is my husband.”

One councilor with a particularly stiff looking beard grumbled under his breath. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? You’re going to have to speak up ,” Arthur spat defensively. He didn’t like anyone speaking ill of Merlin, even if he wasn’t truthfully married to the man. 

The councilor winced at the king’s tone, but reiterated anyway, “Sire, Merlin is a peasant. He brings about no useful inter-kingdom alliance. You cannot simply marry for… love .” 

Arthur smacked his hands down onto the table, sitting up a little prouder. “Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. I see quite an advantage to being on his good side, don’t you ?” Arthur raised a scornful eyebrow, not as good as Gaius’, but it would do the trick. “Besides, it’s been done. I’ve married for love, and I’ll have no further commentary about it.”

 The councilors all peered down at their feet like a bunch of scolded children. 

One tried their hand at speaking up again, but Arthur silenced him with a glare. 

“ Dismissed .”

As the council shuffled awkwardly out of their seats into the hall, Arthur stayed stoically in his seat.

How on God’s green earth was he going to break the news to Merlin?

-----------------------

Later that same day, Merlin trudged up to the citadel gates from the Lower Towns with Gaius. 

Mrs. Brooker’s daughter, Leah had come down with a case of typhoid, and he and Gaius had spent the whole day helping her mother learn how to brew a curative for her topsy-turvy stomach. It would have been faster, if not for that same stomach causing the poor girl to toss her cookies every hour or so. Chamber pots full of vomit did not make for very pleasant working conditions...

But now the sun was streaking past the sky in bright orange stripes over the castle turrets, and Merlin didn’t quite care anymore that his clothes reeked off regurgitated chicken and peas. 

...He supposed he’d have to change his clothes before attending to Arthur tonight. 

Once he got to his room, he set his medical kit on the floor and threw himself back onto the bed. In a half an hour, he’d have to get right back up again to fulfill his manservant duties, but he’d be damned if he’d let anybody take that thirty minutes of rest away from him. 

He lay there for a while, listening to Gaius bustling around the outer chambers getting dinner ready. He felt a little bad letting his aging mentor do all the work of cooking, but Gaius would get to go straight to bed tonight, so he felt it an equal enough trade off to carry on resting his eyes. 

Merlin only emerged from his brief hibernation when Gaius called him out to eat. 

He slurped down his stew with haste, and stuffed a couple bread rolls in his pocket on the way out the door. He was already missing inviting warmth of his bed. 

-------------

The journey up to Arthur’s chambers was a strange one.

Usually, Merlin would get a few passing ‘hello’s from the scullery maids and peasant boys flitting around the palace in service of their masters. If someone was feeling particularly chatty, they’d pull him aside to complain to him about work, or ask after his wellbeing, but mostly, everyone went about their business. 

That evening, as he was walking through the hallway, he felt the pin-prick of every servant’s eyes upon him. 

When he passed, they bowed. A little dip of the head, slight and reverential. He tried to say hello to one of the kitchen hands and help her along with the heavy basket of potatoes she was carrying, but she only moved it out of his reach with a polite smile.  He heard her murmur something about how he should be getting along to Arthur anyhow, on her way out. He became even more confused when a servant boy ducked past him in the corridor with a soft ‘m’lord’ before disappearing around a corner. 

When he arrived in Arthur’s chambers, the man was sitting lethargically at the dinner table, picking at the gristle of an almost entirely intact ham dish. He was still wearing his kingly attire, although Merlin spotted his red cape unclasped and strewn unceremoniously over the bed. 

Arthur looked up to notice him at the click of the door closing. The king’s eyes trailed across his face before pulling away. 

Merlin would have thought something of it, but this type of weird, prolonged eye contact was common between him and Arthur. 

The thing he thought strange, though, was the hot blush settled on the king’s cheeks. It was almost as if he were guilty of something... 

“Arthur, what did you do?”

The king winced as his fork scraped painfully on his dinner plate. “Why do you assume I’ve done something?”

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Merlin observed, hanging Arthur’s cape on the pegs next to the wardrobe. “You’re usually ravenous at dinner. Something must be bothering you.”

“But that still doesn’t mean I’m the one at fault,” Arthur huffed. 

Merlin stared him down with hands on his hips, unimpressed. 

Arthur swore. “ Fine! I may have made a spur-of-the-moment decision…” 

“You mean an idiotic decision?”

Arthur mumbled, stuffing a couple slices of ham in his mouth. 

Merlin put a mocking hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

The king swallowed down his food. “...I told the council that we’re married.”

A shrinking kind of horror took up residence in Arthur’s stomach as he watched all the color drain out of Merlin’s face. 

“What the fuck, Arthur.”

The king arose from his seat to lay a placating hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Come now, it’s really not as bad as all that.”

Merlin bucked his hand off in exasperation. “ Why? What was even going through your head when you-”

“You remember Lady Lorelle, right?”

“Yes, but what does she have to do with-” Merlin cut himself off. Then his eyes flew wide.

“OooOOHHH MY GOD!” he exclaimed, flapping his hands wildly in realization. “The council was obviously pushing an unwanted marriage on you again.... You had become just about fed up with that, so you panicked and- And you lied, didn’t you?”

“I did not panic .”

“No, no. You definitely did.”

Merlin’s expression morphed from gleeful to pensive. “ But why then...? ” he hummed, tapping his lower lip. “Why me?”

Arthur twisted up his brow. “Excuse me?”

“Why did you say you were married to me ? ...Is what I mean,” Merlin clarified, rocking nervously on his feet. 

“Well it’s not like I have a whole lot of potential candidates,” Arthur scoffed. “Who else could I count on to play along with the ruse?” 

(He said all this with the utmost confidence that people are wont to have when they’re king, but truthfully, was just now pulling these reasons from off the top of his head.)

“You can, though. Count on me, that is.” 

Arthur cocked his head like a curious terrier, bewildered. “You’ll- You’ll keep the secret?”

Merlin split his lips into a mischievous grin and nodded.

“Well, I always did know you were up for a good ruse,” Arthur laughed, clapping a camraderly hand to Merlin’s back. “Don’t you have two separate fake identities?” 

“I actually have three ,” Merlin corrected. 

“Well why doesn’t my husband stay to tell me about it over dinner?”

Chapter Text

The next day, Merlin awoke to the cold, gray light of early morning with a note on his nightstand. 

It first appeared in the narrow slits of his barely opened eyes; A sheet of thick, folded paper sitting patiently next to him, bearing the scratchy signature of Arthur Pendragon on the front flap. 

He reached out blearily to touch the parchment, blinking back the sleep in his eyes.

What was something like this doing here? Never before had Arthur exhibited such discretion. 

...Well at least not where Merlin was concerned. 

If Arthur wanted something, he usually just barged into Gaius’ chambers to loudly demand it.

Merlin pulled the note close to his chest as if he were reeling in a fish, and dove under the covers with it to escape the brightness of the new day. 

Under this Blanket Cave of Eternal Hibernation, he lifted the flap to find more of Arthur’s unbearably scribbly handwriting. 

“Dear Merlin,” it began.

“You will find a set of clothes placed at the foot of your bed. I sent George in this morning as he is light footed and I didn’t wish to disturb your slumber. I understand you were treating that Brooker girl for her tyfoyd tyfoide  tiphoyd  illness all day yesterday. The clothes are a bit nicer than you’re used to. We can’t have the king’s husband dressing like a peasant. I feel that would look suspitious suspicious. 

Best Wishes, Arthur.”

Merlin tutted and rolled out of bed, dragging the blanket along with him. Sure enough, he spotted a paper-wrapped parcel waiting for him on the floor. 

He trundled over to it, floorboards creaking under the weight of his meandering footsteps. 

Pawing through the package, he found a number of items; two tunics, one purple and one green, a pair of sturdy looking leather boots with less buckles than he was used to, three silky red neckerchiefs, and a garishly embroidered blue jacket that Merlin was afraid to touch, let alone wear.  

He folded it all back into the paper, except for the boots, because honestly, his were finally worn down from all the years of damage and repair, and it would be nice not to have his toes peeking out the fronts for once. 

Decked out in his new shoes, and dressed for the day, Merlin stumbled out into the workshop where Gaius was reading on his cot. 

The old man looked up from his book and gave a prudent nod to the package Merlin was still holding. “Where did that parcel come from?”

“Good morning to you, too.”

Gaius’ dreadful eyebrow twitched as if he were threatening to raise it. 

“Okay, okay!” Merlin relented. “Arthur sent it. He got himself in a bit of trouble which requires a subsequent scheme to get out of. This is my... disguise, I suppose.”

Gaius gestured for the parcel and slowly unwrapped it, glasses perched precariously on his nose. “Merlin, these are uncommonly nice garments... What exactly does this scheme entail?”

Merlin coughed into the sleeve of his jacket. “Well you know how the castle has been hosting so many eligible ladies...?”

“I recall the last twelve visits, yes.”

“And you know why they’re here, right...?”

Gaius pinched his brow. “Because Arthur must take a queen,” he replied. 

“Well what if I told you...” Merlin gently removed the unwrapped parcel from Gaius’ hands. “That he really, really doesn’t want to? ”

  The physician’s fleshy eyebrows shot up with amazing speed. “You mean to say he’s somehow lied himself out of marriage?” 

Merlin sucked in a daring breath through his teeth. “Yes, and no .”

If the wizard weren’t more uncertain at that moment, he absolutely would have laughed at Gaius’ stupefied expression. 

“What do you mean, no? ”

Sweet Jesus, this would be quite the bandage to rip off.

“Arthur... may have told the entire council... that I’m his husband .” When Gaius didn’t respond, Merlin nervously continued, “I mean, that- That’s what I meant about- See, he’s only really avoiding a marriage with those women . That is to say, we’re not actually- He’s not married to me either . He obviously lied about that part, but for all intents and purposes...”

A wheeze erupted from inside Gaius’ throat, and for a second, Merlin thought the news had killed him, but he was-

He was laughing. 

Laughing until he was crying, tears streaming down his face. Merlin was suddenly having flashbacks to the time he told Kilgharrah that Uther had married a troll. Oh god, did that mean-?

“I am not a troll!” Merlin crowed indignantly. 

“Pardon?” asked Gaius, coming down from his high of hysterical laughter. 

Merlin turned a bit pink at his outburst. “N- Nevermind.”

“Now I don’t need to tell you to be careful, do I?” Gaius admonished. His chiding tone was a bit undercut by the fact that he was still fighting off the chuckles.

“I’m always careful around Arthur,” Merlin assured. 

“What are you talking about!? You’ve not once been careful around Arthur! Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter anyways. I meant be careful around the councilors .” Gaius clucked his tongue. “Anyhow, you best be getting to your husband. Breakfast is the rolls from yesterday.”

Merlin, who was eager to leave this bizarre conversation immediately, took Gaius’ advice and ran. 

----------------------------

When Merlin arrived in Arthur’s room that morning, the first thing Arthur did was look him over.

“You’re not wearing the clothes.”

“How perceptive of you, sire,” Merlin chirped, moving to open the blinds. 

Arthur grimaced against the whole and glorious morning shining in his face. “Merlin, put the clothes on. And stop calling me sire! That’s officially not allowed anymore.” 

Merlin, as a way of response, only viciously yanked the covers away from Arthur. Rule #1 of being the king’s manservant is never to listen to anything he says before breakfast. 

Arthur nearly growled at him, but nevertheless, removed himself from the bed to chase after his blankets. (A minor miracle on Merlin’s part.)

“I’m not wearing the clothes, Arthur,” he asserted, once the king had lumbered fully across the room to where he was standing with the blankets. 

“Why not? They’re perfectly fine clothes.”

“That’s the problem!” Merlin exclaimed. “I’ve never worn clothes that nice before. I’m not sure I’d look right in them.”

“Nonsense,” Arthur dismissed, grabbing for his stolen linens. “You’re far too exquisite to look out of place in a brocaded coat or two.”

Merlin moved the blankets behind his back. “You think I’m... exquisite? You do know the definition of that word, right?”

Arthur grumbled, twining his arms around Merlin’s waist to nab at the blankets. 

Merlin’s eyes flashed, and the linens flew up to stick to the ceiling. “It means ‘of rare and appealing excellence,’ if you didn’t.”

“It also means ‘keenly or delicately sensitive,’ so do not test me, Mer lin.”  

The warlock in question didn’t pay Arthur any heed, partly because he knew it was an empty threat, but mostly because Arthur was so unnecessarily close. His hands had migrated from the air behind Merlin’s back, to each side of his waist. The skin there almost burned with Arthur’s touch. 

Merlin hummed and ran his hands from Arthur’s shoulders to the tips of those fingers that were digging into the fabric of his shirt. “...Your breath really does smell bad right now.” 

Arthur bristled with indignation and backed away entirely. “I’ll h- I’ll have you know-!”

“That your morning breath is atrocious? I believe I already know it.”

“Enough of this nonsense!” Arthur spluttered. “Just go put on the clothes. We’re attending the weekly convergence of the court in an hour.”

Merlin flattened his brow into an impressively surly expression. “I will do no such thing.”

Arthur groaned and swung his arms out like a petulant child. “Merlin, why? I thought we resolved this issue.” 

“Arthur, I don’t want to look like a noble. I’m perfectly fine in my baggy tunics and patched up jackets.”

“What can I say to get you to wear them?” Arthur harrumphed. 

Merlin sniffed and pulled his coat tighter around him. “If you want me to wear the clothes, you’ll just have to put them on me yourself ,” he declared. 

“ Fine .” 

Arthur stalked over to the table, where Merlin had set the parcel of clothing when he’d first come in that morning. 

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Take off your shirt,” Arthur commanded, holding up the green tunic above his head. 

“ Arthur .”

“Nope. You said you’d wear them if I dressed you.”

“Arthur, you can’t even dress yourself .”

“Then you’ll just have to bear with me. Take. The shirt. Off .”

Merlin reached down for the clasp of the belt at his waist. He unbuckled it and threw it defiantly to the ground.

Arthur didn’t say anything in return, only raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

Merlin’s fingers curled around the edge of his tunic. His mouth was pressed into an uncomfortable flat line, and his shoulders were stiff, as if he were steeling himself for the task ahead. 

Arthur, noticing this uneasiness in the lines and planes of Merlin’s figure, lowered the shirt he was holding apologetically. “You know, on second thought, you don’t have to-”

With one sharp intake of breath, Merlin pulled the shirt over his head. 

Now there were a few things that came into Arthur’s head at that very moment: 

1. That he should have been making excuses for Merlin to take his shirt off sooner. 
2. The incredibly surprising urge to run his hands all over Merlin’s pale skin, and
3. The reminder from the logical side of his brain to definitely Not Do That because Merlin, at the moment, looked wildly self-conscious.  

“Um, are you going to be… okay like that?” he asked.

Merlin regurgitated an oddly high-pitched laugh. “Well you can understand it’s a bit weird to be shirtless in front of your boss,” he joked, stuffing his hands into his armpits. 

“I can hardly say I’m your boss … I never can get you to do anything, you know.” 

Some of the tension in Merlin’s shoulders vanished at the familiarity of the banter. Arthur hoped his next question wouldn’t put it back. 

“So… Do you always feel this uncomfortable… undressing?”

“No- I mean. Sometimes,” Merlin backtracked. “Most people I’m fine with, but…” 

Arthur stepped closer with the shirt. “But what?”

“...But I suppose you have this critical air about you,” Merlin grinned. 

Arthur grinned back in relief, gesturing for the warlock to hold out his arms. “Do I, now?” he replied, slipping the green tunic over Merlin’s head.

Merlin’s face popped out of the neck-hole with a disoriented expression. His dark hair was wild and generously interspersed with flyaways.  

Arthur couldn’t help himself. His fingers threaded through Merlin’s hair, trying to comb it back in vain. 

Merlin beamed up at him. “You call me an idiot nearly every hour. Forgive me if I’ve drawn the wrong conclusion,” he laughed. 

“ Augh . Is there any way your hair could be less of a bird’s nest?” Arthur lamented, after his third try of neatening it proved unsuccessful. 

Merlin lifted Arthur’s hands from off his head. “ Believe me , if I knew a way, I would have tried it by now.” He retrieved his belt from the floor and buckled it back onto his waist. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was enjoying wearing a nice new tunic. It was softer material than he was used to, and he’d always wanted to wear something green ever since he saw Morgana in her silky green dresses. It had just looked so nice with her dark hair, that Merlin thought, perhaps, it would look nice on him too. 

Arthur moved a hand to Merlin’s shoulder, sweeping his thumb in reverent circles at his collarbone. “ Definitely exquisite ,” he murmured. 

“Keenly sensitive?” Merlin smiled.

“Of rare and appealing excellence.”

Merlin felt something not altogether unpleasant twinge in his chest. 

Arthur coughed and looked away. “Well. I suppose I should get dressed as well.”

------------------------------------------

About an hour later, Merlin was sitting next to Arthur in the throne room, listening to the complaints of minor nobles and castle staff. 

He was sitting in a plain wooden chair someone had pulled up for him, positioned to the right of the throne, because apparently Arthur had sprung the news that he would be attending way too late, and this was all anyone could muster up. Merlin didn’t mind so much. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to sit in a big fancy chair like Arthur’s. 

Merlin picked at the threads of his long, embroidered coat in boredom. (Arthur had eventually gotten him to wear that too.) He didn’t know if he could take one more long-winded speech about inheritance mix-ups before he just fell back asleep. 

Arthur flicked him on the arm. Apparently, he had already begun to doze off. “ Look, I know this is tiresome, but you’re just going to have to stay awake for it ,” Arthur whispered.

“ Well I can’t make sarcastic comments from behind you anymore, so you’ve just made this worse for the both of us ,” Merlin hissed back. 

The lord currently making his case cleared his throat. 

Both king and king-consort startled in their seats with plastered on smiles. Arthur waved a hand for the lord to continue. 

“As I was saying, sire, my brother maintains that our father left him the entirety of the estate, but in section 18, subsection 6 of his final will and testament-” And that was whereabouts Merlin stopped listening again. 

This cycle repeated most of the morning; Merlin would in some way communicate that he wasn’t paying attention, he and Arthur would have a whispered argument in front of the entire court, someone would remind them where they were, and… on until ad nauseum. 

One of the only interesting occurrences that morning was that of the pair of siblings fighting over custody of their goat. 

The two of them had been gifted a pigmy goat by their mother. Each one wanted to keep the goat at their farm and didn’t trust the other one to take care of it properly. They caused a shouting match so loud in front of the entire congregation, that people began pulling their hats over their ears. 

Arthur finally resolved the matter by suggesting that a trusted third party should take the goat. The problem was, he could only deliver this verdict one or two words at a time, seeing as he was losing the battle against the conquering forces of laughter. 

(Merlin would forever be quick to remind him of this, after the fact.)

The second interesting occurrence was an unexpected arrival. 

Towards the end of the convergence of the court, a petite and finely dressed woman showed up in front of the king. She had a lady’s maid and a footman poised behind her, standing respectfully, with their hands clasped at their backs. 

“Your Majesty, it’s an honour to see you again. I am truly humbled to have been invited to stay in such a place as magnificent as this,” she greeted, with a small curtsy. 

Arthur and Merlin shared a look of confusion. “Ummm… the honour is… all mine, m’lady,” Arthur replied, getting up from his throne. Merlin got up with him, assuming they would be shaking hands with the lady, but Arthur took a sharp turn to the left in order to pull the nearest councilman towards him. 

“ Who is this woman and why is she under the impression I’ve invited her here? ” he spat under his breath, making the councilman tremble with a certain fear overlaid by smugness. 

“That is the Lady Heloise. You were previously betrothed to her, remember sire? I don’t believe she’ll be happy that you never revisited that arrangement…”

“So you invited her here.” Arthur pushed the hammy old man away from him with great loathing. “ Figures ,” he muttered. 

The king clapped his hands and twisted his glare into a friendly smile. “Well! It’s nice to see you again, Lady Heloise. It’s been years since you last visited,” he welcomed, coming to stand next to Merlin, who had previously just been hanging awkwardly off to the side. “I’ll admit, your arrival at court was a bit unexpected, seeing as my council failed to notify me of your stay.”

Lady Heloise had the grace to look slightly mortified by this news.

“But no matter! You’re here now, and we have catching up to do.” Arthur reached out to kiss her on her gloved hand. 

She nodded prettily and turned her gaze to Merlin. “And who is this? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“This is my husband, Merlin,” Arthur answered, slipping a not-so-subtle arm around Merlin’s waist. 

Whatever Arthur was bracing himself for, it didn’t happen. A kind of tension that Merlin hadn’t recognized until it was gone, left Lady Heloise’s face. She beamed up at them (for she was indeed very short) with a gooey kind of expression. Like she wanted to gush about how absolutely adorable they were, but wouldn’t do so in front of polite company. 

Instead she smiled most emotionally at Merlin and said, “How delightful to meet you, m’lord. I’m sure His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

Merlin went to correct her assumption that he was nobility, but thought better of it and simply held out his hand for her to shake.

This, apparently, was not the right thing to do. 

Lady Heloise only stared, blinkily, at Merlin’s open palm. After a moment, she placed her hand uncertainly in his. 

Merlin shook her hand quick and firm, expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace. Once the strange, social transaction had been completed, he moved his hands behind his back ditheringly, with the profound sense that what he’d done was a little off. 

It was only after a tenuous couple of seconds that he remembered you’re supposed to give the ladies’ hand a kiss. He turned to Arthur, expecting the usual exasperated look, but Arthur only had good humour and a hint of pride in his eyes. 

Huh.

Weird.

Turning away from his husband friend, Arthur replied, “Indeed I am a very lucky man.”

What was this? Where was the following insult?

“I’m sorry my visit turned out to be such short notice, Your Majesty,” Lady Heloise blushed.

“Nonsense! I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to accommodate you. That shall be rectified immediately,” Arthur assured. 

One very mousy looking councilor popped out of the crowd. “Perhaps you could take the Lady Heloise on a picnic in the picturesque part of the woods?” he suggested. 

Arthur nearly groaned. He had been taking women on picnics about the forest for months now, and some of them had been truly horrific experiences. He suspected he’d never forget the time Lady Wynflaethe refused to eat any of the picnic food, under the entirely irrational suspicion that it had somehow been poisoned. Arthur had spent the entire time trying to convince her the food was safe, and had ended up eating most of the picnic spread. To top it all off, he’d washed it down with far too much wine, and had nearly ended up vomiting that same entire spread back onto an unsuspecting forest shrub. The only benefit to this series of misfortunes was that when Arthur returned to the castle, Merlin was there to lead him up to his room and make him lie on his side. The memory of Merlin stroking his back, and whispering all sorts of jumbled, worried nonsense at him was one of warmth and safety.  

But no, no . Arthur would not be trapped with another lady in the forest, no matter how lovely or polite she seemed. 

Unless…

“I assume I can bring Merlin along with me?”

Chapter Text

Nearly three hours later, Arthur, Merlin and Lady Heloise were saddled up on horses, en route to their picnic destination. 

Merlin was back in his scrubby servant clothes because he ‘refused to dirty anything up that looked like it could pay for four whole cows.’ Nothing Arthur could say would change his mind on this matter.

Lady Heloise too had changed. She was wearing a gorgeously pearl-embroidered, yellow summer dress and a delicate half-circlet perched atop the crown of her hazel locks.

Merlin felt a bit out of place next to the two finely dressed nobles, but he wouldn’t dare share that with Arthur, as the king would only remind him that was his own fault. 

He quickly overcame this insecurity though, because Lady Heloise was just too darling and amicable not to feel welcome around. By the first five minutes of the ride, the two of them were already best friends, and swapping childhood stories back and forth. 

Arthur hid it well, but Merlin could see he was unendingly irritated by this. He kept twitching his lips like he wanted to say something, and his nostrils flared out like an angry bull’s. At one point, Lady Heloise reached across her horse to lay a hand on Merlin’s arm, and Arthur’s eyes flashed with- Was that a hit of jealousy ? 

The king entirely halted their conversation when the two began swapping Arthur stories back and forth. He conveniently spotted a picnic sight just as Lady Heloise was coming to the climax of her account of the time little Arthur caught his pants in a stinging nettle bush. 

The three of them settled at the edge of a sunny clearing, with the shadows of the tree branches dipping over their blanket. Lady Heloise carried down the picnic basket, assuring the two men that she was plenty strong enough despite her small stature. 

When Merlin sat down, he felt Arthur settle behind him and pull him into his lap. “Oh hello, fancy seeing you here,” he smiled, reaching a hand up to comb through Arthur’s hair. 

Arthur nuzzled into him like a rather large and shaggy dog. If this was what having a fake husband was like, Merlin might just be able to stand having a real one someday.

Lady Heloise cooed. “It’s so special, what you two have.”

“Well it’d have to be, for me to love this giant prat,” Merlin remarked, leaning his head back on Arthur’s shoulder. 

She laughed, making Arthur bury his face grumpily in Merlin’s hair. “Oh yes, I remember he was quite, uh… demanding as a child.”

“I’m glad you married him. I’m sure you’re wonderful for him, and I never much liked the prospect of marriage anyway,” she added, opening the picnic basket to retrieve an almond cake with her delicate fingers. 

Merlin leaned forward attentively. “Oh?”

“I’m sure marriage does well for some people,” she assured, waving him off. “But I’ve always wanted to be a daring adventuress, traveling the world in a caravan. I’d fight mythical beasts, and seduce all the strong-armed country lasses with my charm and wit.” 

“And your picnic-basket-lifting abilities?”

“And my picnic-basket-lifting abilities,” the lady agreed, through a mouthful of almond cake. 

Merlin broke out of Arthur’s lap to retrieve the cheese and bread from the aforementioned basket. “Well I can’t say I’ve done much country-lass seducing,” he said, reaching in. “But I’ve fought my fair share of mythical beasts.”

“Merlin, you’re the country lass,” Arthur quipped. “ I seduced you .”

“I’m sorry to say, my love, but I only married you for the prestige. Your marvelous physique is only a side benefit,” Merlin fired back. 

Lady Heloise nearly rolled onto her back, she was giggling so hard. 

Arthur’s stomach twisted strangely. Was Merlin… calling him attractive ? Last Arthur had heard, he was comparable to a toad. 

When Merlin had finally retrieved a hunk of cheese from the basket, he plopped back down next to Arthur and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. 

Arthur’s hands trembled with the sudden need to pull Merlin close to him again. 

“So how is it fighting beasts?” Lady Heloise asked, when she’d come out of her laughter. 

“Hmm, not so fun as it seems. They’re testy and terrible, and often times controlled by some ambitiously vengeful sorceror bent on bringing Camelot to its knees,” Merlin replied, twisting some grass near the edge of the blanket in his fingers. “They all blur together after awhile.”

The lady perched her chin on the back of her hand. “However do you defeat them all?” 

King and consort glanced at each other warily.  

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand from the grass and slipped his fingers through the warlock’s own. 

Merlin took a deep breath. “Um, how to you feel about… magic?”

Lady Heloise blinked curiously. “How do I feel about…?”

She froze in realization. “You have magic, don’t you?”

Merlin pressed his lips into a nervous line and nodded. 

“Oh my god, I’m in the presence of a sorcerer!” she gasped. “I’ve never actually met one before. How’s it like? Can you feel the magic inside of you or is it just such a part of you that you don’t notice?”

Merlin exhaled in relief as he watched a fascinated smile stretch across Heloise’s face. He leaned against Arthur’s side, and the king instinctually braced an arm around his shoulders. 

“I can feel it if I pay attention,” he replied. “It’s like a faint humming under my skin. It’s faint enough that most people don’t notice it unless they’re looking for it.

“And does it-? Is it pleasant?”

That was something Arthur would quite like to know as well. When Merlin came out, he never really talked about what magic was like for him, or how he felt about it. He only reiterated the point that his magic was used to protect Camelot, and only that. 

In hindsight, Arthur probably should have asked. 

“Well it doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Arthur leaned over to place a couple soft kisses in Merlin’s hair; Revenge for his earlier kiss to Arthur’s cheek.  

“It feels… the best word I have to describe it is… pretty,” Merlin continued. “If it had a physical form, I suppose it would be… a butterfly.”

Ah, of course. Even Merlin’s quasi-divine, supernatural powers were girlish in essence. 

Lady Heloise grinned further, her dark, owlish eyes shining with delight. “Can you make butterflies?” she asked hands folded wishfully.

Merlin smiled back and closed his hands together. “ Gewyrcan lif .” 

When he opened them, a jewelish, blue butterfly sat in his palm. Its wings twitched once, twice before it took off into the sky. Lady Heloise reached out to catch it as it flew, laughing. She missed by a couple inches.

“So do you bombard the monsters with butterflies?” she asked.

“No, Arthur usually takes a couple swings at the beast, gets knocked out, and then I come in to finish it off with some kind of magic lightning,” Merlin replied, making Arthur glower two points of absolute loathing into the side of his head. 

“Now hold on. I was the one who plunged my sword into the heart of that troll.”

“Oh, you mean Lady Catrina?” Merlin turned to him, raising both eyebrows. “ I seem to remember you were medically pronounceable as dead until I administered the antidote.”

“ You poisoned me in the first place,” Arthur reminded. 

“Because of the plan that exposed the troll!” 

“It was a bad plan, Merlin. What kind of people jump to the conclusion that the first and only option is to fake someone’s death?!”

“Well you no longer have a troll for a stepmother, so you hardly have room to complain,” Merlin sniffed. 

“Yes, I do!” Arthur threw up his free arm in exasperation. “I was dead for three minutes!”

“You were experiencing death-like symptoms .”

“What ever ,” he replied, bunching a hand up into his hair.  “Nevermind. We shouldn’t be having this discussion in front of a guest.”

Said guest was currently stuffing chicken slices in her mouth, eyes zipping from Arthur to Merlin in an attempt to understand what was happening. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m missing something…” 

Arthur shook his head. “Unimportant. Merlin has saved the kingdom many times over, and I… should thank him for it more often.”

The look the two of them shared was unmistakably of love to any outsider, but each of them only thought it was a moment of understanding, and possibly warm regard. 

“Your wedding must have been quite romantic,” Lady Heloise interjected. 

The lovebirds tore away from each other, caught off guard. Arthur and Merlin hadn’t thought ahead enough to come up with a proper lie about their courtship. 

“I bet it was grand,” she continued, sighing wistfully at the makings of her own imagination. “I’ve been to a couple weddings of the minor nobility, and they were spectacularly lavish. I can only imagine the scale of a king’s wedding.”

King and warlock glanced at each other anxiously. The wedding couldn’t be too big, otherwise the court would wonder why they weren’t invited. 

Merlin coughed awkwardly and spoke up first. “Actually, it was… just us and a witness. We exchanged our weds, and… then we were married.” He paused to raise and eyebrow at Arthur, to make sure he was catching all this. “...I suppose you could call it an elopement, even though we didn’t go anywhere.”

Lady Heloise pursed her delicate, doll-like lips. “If you don’t mind me asking, why an elopement? You’re a charming couple. Surely the court would be supportive?”

Now that question was easier to answer.

“Merlin isn’t…” Arthur hesitated. “Merlin isn’t of noble birth. He’s actually part of castle staff. He is- was ...my manservant.”

The lady, placed a hand over her heart, eyes softening. “...You fell in love with him,” she sighed. “It was forbidden, so you married in secret.”

“Love… I guess it was that, wasn’t it?” Arthur sighed back.

“Don’t worry, I have no room to judge,” she said, patting Merlin’s knee affectionately. “I have designs on romancing country lasses anyway.”

Merlin grinned back at her. His and Arthur’s relationship was so unprecedented and strange, what with the class difference, and in the last few days, it had only gotten stranger. It was nice to have someone fully accept it right from the get-go, even if they didn’t understand the entire situation. 

“Hey, I suppose you really are a country lass!” Lady Heloise added, pouring herself a goblet of wine.

“Well I did grow up in Ealdor before I came here, and that’s about as country as it gets.”

The rest of the picnic, they laughed and talked, and Arthur and Merlin were confident they had found a friend where they had at first expected an adversary. 

-----------------------------------

That evening, Merlin was lacing up Arthur’s sleep shirt as usual. Arthur’s wide, lethargic hands had been fumbling for the tunic laces for a tragic three minutes before Merlin stopped stoking the fire to help him. 

“Here, just- Just stop,” he said, coaxing Arthur’s hands away from his collar. “Leader of an entire country and you can’t even get dressed by yourself.” 

“Honestly, Merlin. I can’t seriously be expected to have the time.”

Merlin shrugged, finishing Arthur’s shirt off with a ridiculous little bow. “Look, I’m your manservant, a physician, and the magical protector of Camelot, and I still find the time to change my own shirts. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Arthur swatted Merlin away from him grumpily. “Stop tying my tunics like that! You make me look a fool at court functions.”

“You do that yourself, love,” Merlin grinned, expertly dodging the onslaught of hands. 

Arthur backed off, trying to ignore the burning in the tips of his ears at Merlin calling him ‘love.’ 

It would be a doomed day when the warlock finally figured out he held certain privileges as the king’s husband and could exclusively call Arthur some terrible moniker such as ‘honey bear’ or God forbid ‘ sweet cheeks .’ Arthur had no faith that this day wouldn’t come, because Merlin was a mischievous scoundrel with a quick tongue, put on this earth for the sole purpose of bringing the nobility down a good couple pegs. 

“Lady Heloise was quite nice,” Merlin continued. “She was incredibly accepting of- of well, everything that I am, I suppose. Did I take up too much of her time? I probably should have let you talk to her more, afterall, it’s you she came to see.”

Merlin was frowning down at his shoes, teeth peeling at the skin of his lip. Arthur lifted the man’s gaze back up with a gentle nudge to the bottom of his chin. “Stop fretting,” he commanded. “I can assure you that I talked to her as much as I wanted to. In fact, it was almost a blessing to have you there. You became better friends with Lady Heloise in an afternoon than I did in two years of visits.”

Merlin smiled lopsidedly, eyes shining not with magic, but something like it. “...Is that a compliment?”

“No, it’s a fact… That has something to do with your positive attributes.” 

Even Arthur knew that excuse was flimsy. 

“Perhaps if you had more of them, I’d actually compliment you for real.”

“Well you keep me around,” Merlin quipped. “So what does that say about you?”

What did that say about Arthur? That he needed a friend? He supposed the knights were his friends. They were by his side in battle. They talked, and joked together. Friendly pats on the back, or cuffs on the arm were common. That’s what friends did, didn’t they? 

But Arthur was never lacking in that kind of comradery and brotherhood fellow soldiers had. From a young age, he’d trained beside his father’s knights, in particular, Leon. Leon, a boy slightly older than him, was always there to cheer for him when he first blocked a blow correctly, and ruffle his hair affectionately.

Merlin wasn’t like that. His touches were not ...brotherly. He’d certainly always been meant to heal. He had physician’s hands; Calloused finger pads, and splotchy, blistered knuckles from grinding herbs to dust with a pestle. His palms were cool and soothing when he’d push Arthur’s hair back from his forehead. Merlin’s touches were safe and soft to Arthur. He figured he loved Merlin the same way as his knights, but then again, he’d never let any of his knights trail their fingers over the tops of his shoulders to silently tell him he should be in bed. He supposed he kept Merlin around because he hadn’t found anything else like him. 

“Arthur?”

Snap, snap.

“Arthur!”

Merlin was snapping his fingers in front of his face, looking none too pleased with being ignored. “If that’s all… am I dismissed?” he asked.

Arthur nodded mechanically, brain still catching up with the rest of his body. 

As soon as Merlin reached the door, though, something occurred to him.

“Wait.”

Merlin turned around expectantly, hand still resting on the door handle. 

“Don’t you think- I mean, wouldn’t it make sense if-”

The warlock crept cautiously back into the room, eyes locked on Arthur as if he were a startled wild animal. “Yes?”

“Sleep with me.”

Godamnit, that was not what he meant to say.

Merlin looked like he had quite a few thoughts, a couple critiques, and more than one objection.

Arthur stopped him before he could voice those thoughts. “I mean here . Sleep here ,” he amended. 

“.....I’m not saying I’m rejecting your offer to sleep in your very large and comfy bed, but…… why ?”

“Well you see, most married couples… share a bed,” Arthur began. “It might strike someone a bit odd that we…”

“...Don’t,” Merlin finished. “I guess you’re right… I still do need to go back down to my room, though. I don’t have any sleep clothes up here.”

Arthur grumbled and sat back on the bed. “Your clothes’ll be in the same place tomorrow. You can just take some of mine from my wardrobe.”

Merlin shuffled over to the wardrobe, increasingly aware of how bizarre this situation was. He began sifting through the tunics and pants awkwardly. He usually wouldn’t have thought much about where things were placed, as he knew the wardrobe’s contents like the back of his hand, but Arthur was watching him from the bed with unwavering focus. He was picking nervously at his nails, almost as if he were waiting for Merlin to decide this was all too much and make a run for it. 

Merlin tossed him a small smile and slipped behind the changing screen.

A couple minutes later, he reemerged in Arthur’s blue night tunic and a pair of soft pants that pooled at his ankles. “It seems you’re quite a bit-” he flapped his arms, making the tunic swish around. “Wider than me.”

“You’re as thin as a rail, Merlin. Morgana ’ s wider than you.”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate you saying that,” he laughed, now flapping his arms about so wildly it looked like he was trying to take off. 

Arthur sank like a sopping puddle of tiredness towards Merlin, and yanked him onto the bed. “It is too late to be acting like a bird.”

Merlin fell on top of Arthur with an oomph . “And it’s not too late to be acting like an ass?”

Arthur smiled up at him, grazing a gentle thumb across his cheekbone. “Donkeys are noble and hardworking creatures. I’ll not have you slandering them.”

“I’ve made fun of the Great Dragon before. Don’t think societal convention will stop me,” Merlin warned, settling onto Arthur’s chest.

“Good. That dragon was a bastard anyway.”

Merlin laughed again, and this time, Arthur felt it rumble in his chest and belly. His warlock was so close. He was-

He was too close.

Arthur rolled to the side, dropping Merlin off of him. 

“I’m- um- We should probably go to sleep.”

Merlin scooted to the other end of the bed, blushing. “Yes. Definitely.”

They both said a meek ‘goodnight’ before shrinking mortifiedly under the covers.

How they survived the night sans spontaneous combustion, no one could ever figure out.

Chapter Text

The next morning started with a rude awakening. 

At an hour far too early to be conscious, none other than Morgana Pendragon herself smacked the door open, startling both Arthur and Merlin in the process. 

“Alright. Chop-chop, brother dear! The council has called an urgent meeting. Best get your butt out of bed and into a decent pair of trousers,” she trilled, sweeping through the room to open the curtains.

Arthur raised a hand to shield his groggy eyes from the blinding rays of the sun. Apparently, at some point during the night, he and Merlin had shifted together. The warlock’s inert form lay tucked into his chest like a warm, drowsy cat. 

Arthur shook him gently by the shoulder a couple times, until he unfurled his neck to blink sleepily up at his husband. “Good morning, gorgeous,” Arthur grinned, from where he’d propped himself a bit above Merlin.

Merlin shoved grumpily at Arthur’s face and sank back into the covers. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

Morgana, who had still been talking about this or that by the window, turned around at the sound of Merlin’s voice. “Oh, look who’s here! Perhaps we have less of a problem than we thought…”

Arthur didn’t feel too good about the way the corners of her mouth upturned in a malicious smirk. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Morgana?” 

Her smile turned down into a look of distaste. “Were you seriously not listening to a word I’ve said?” She rolled her eyes and Arthur could almost see her teenage self standing there with her hands on her hips. “Of course not. You’ve been too occupied gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, or whatever it is you two do in the morning.” 

The two of them scrambled to untangle their entwined legs, blushing madly. 

“What I was saying ,” she reiterated. “Is that the council has called a meeting to break up your marriage. Just thought you should be warned.”

Arthur groaned and slid out of bed with a ker-thunk! “Won’t they just let it alone already? What do they even have this time?”

Merlin kicked off the covers as well, and scuttled sleepily over to Morgana. 

“They want to know if the marriage is consummated,” she replied.

Arthur gouged into his eyes with the bony part of his palms. “ God . Camelot marriage laws. I forgot all about that.”

Merlin had pulled Arthur’s too-big tunic over his nose in an attempt to hide how red his face was. Considering that his rather large, and now also red ears were sticking up from his head like signaling flags of his embarrassment, the attempt had obviously failed. “They want to know if what? ” he squeaked.

Arthur sighed, deeply and mournfully. “There’s a law in Camelot that requires you and your spouse to have… done it in order for the marriage to be legally binding.”

Merlin pulled the tunic back down in frustrated distress. “But why would the kingdom even concern itself with that?! That should be nobody’s business but yours!” 

“It was drafted in an era of high conflict with the surrounding kingdoms,” Morgana explained, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “King… Conan, I think it was? He was ruling at the time the Roman Empire abandoned Albion as a client state. Soldiers were needed to fight off the proceeding invasions of the Picts and Scots, so he wanted to make sure everyone was at least… trying to have children.”

Arthur curled his lip up in confusion. “How is it that you remember all that?”

“ I actually paid attention during all those history lessons,” she sniffed, raising her chin up to a regally degreed angle. “Anyways, the council really doesn’t know how to annul your marriage, so I believe they’re just grasping at straws with this one.”

Merlin and Arthur glanced at each other nervously. 

“I mean, everyone knows you two have probably gotten around to bedding each other far before Arthur was even king.”

Arthur nearly choked on his own spit. “ Everyone knows that?!”

Morgana fluttered a dismissive hand in his direction. “Oh don’t be like that. You practically propositioned Merlin in front of all the castle staff the very first time you both met.”

Ah yes. The ‘walking on the knees’ bit.

“Now you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Arthur scolded, holding up a threatening finger to his sister’s face. 

She pushed it aside. “ Really? Because with the way you were eyeing each other…” she grinned, like a paunchy, satisfied cat. 

“Morgana…” Merlin began, hiding his florid face in his hands. “We haven’t ever- We’ve never actually-”

Morgana raised her eyebrows quite high on her forehead. “Oh, I see. Well you’re going to have to lie then, aren’t you?”

“Wait,” Arthur gnashed. “I can’t just lie about-”

“ Please . Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it at least once. Besides, I don’t think the council will be too keen to press for details.”

Morgana was embarrassingly correct. There had been a couple nights in which Arthur had had… dreams of questionable content. But that really wasn’t his fault. His brain had just decided to string together an improbable scenario where Merlin and he were… a bit closer physically than they were in real life. No need to throw up a fuss about the nonsensical inner-working of his unconscious mind, right?

He felt Merlin’s fingers brush up against his back and he nearly jumped. 

“Do we have any choice?” Merlin asked, leaning against Arthur’s side electrically. 

Morgana snorted an incredulous breath of air out her nose. “I suppose you could skip for today, but they’ll only try to pencil you in for a barely later date,” she sneered. 

Merlin peered up at Arthur with a grim expression on his face. 

“Might as well get it over with, then.”

-------------------------------------

At the end of the council meeting, everyone was thoroughly mortified. Everyone except 

1. Morgana and 
2. Gwaine, who upon hearing what this strange, morning meeting was about, slipped into the back of the room, barely resisting the urge to burst out laughing. 

Later that same day, Arthur was dressing Merlin up for evening dinner. The man still vehemently refused to wear anything too fancy or fine unless Arthur forced him into it. 

Tonight’s ensemble was the purple tunic this time, and a red, embroidered coat Arthur had pulled out of the back of his wardrobe for Merlin. He admitted he’d had more clothing ready for the warlock, but Merlin had reacted with such distress to the first set of clothes, that he’d thought it wasn’t such a good idea to give him the rest.

 Merlin stood sulkily in the middle of the room, shirt very much off, and in the wake of the conversation they’d had that morning, Arthur was beginning to realize how very terrible of an idea this was. 

Merlin held out his arms for Arthur to slip the tunic over his head like last time. “Well at least if I wear this fancy getup, I get to eat dinner in non-leftover form,” he joked, trying to break the room’s strange atmosphere. 

Arthur chuckled weakly along with him, eyes darting about the chamber, trying not to land on the pale expanse of his shoulders, or the sharpness of his collar bones. His hands guided Merlin’s scar-nicked arms through the sleeve holes, and pulled the collar down over his head. 

Merlin’s mussed up hair had exactly the same effect on him as before, but this time, he was determined not to give in and run his fingers through it. 

As he dropped the tunic over Merlin’s torso, Arthur’s hand brushed against the soft skin of his side and came to rest there. This was his fatal mistake. 

Merlin jolted at his touch, but didn’t pull away. “So!” he blurted. “What should I expect from a dinner with nobles anyway?”

Arthur lingered a couple seconds before shaking out of his revery. 

Stupid, stupid . Things were uncomfortable enough as it was. 

He coughed. “Lady Heloise’s father will be there. He was held up, back in his own kingdom, finishing up training season with the castle’s knights. They say Lord Bancroft is quite the master swordsman,” he answered rather diplomatically, trying his best to stare indifferently into the middle distance.

Merlin trailed a gentle hand up his arm. “No, I know that . Loise told me this afternoon.”

“Loise?”

“Lady Heloise,” he clarified. “She asked me to call her that. Says she’s always wanted a nickname.”

Although Arthur very much liked the way Merlin’s fingers were fluttering up and down his arm in a searching manner, he didn’t much like this development for some reason. 

He tried not to let it show on his face. 

“What I meant ,” Merlin continued. “Is how should I act? I don’t want to- I just hope I know what to say.”

Arthur grabbed both of Merlin’s hands in his and squeezed with all the affection he could muster. “The only person you’re not already acquainted with is Lord Bancroft, and I’m sure you’ll win him over within a heartbeat. I’m the king, and I hardly know how to talk better than you.”

Merlin looked down at his fully enveloped hands. “Is this-? Is it a compliment this time?” he beamed.

Arthur brought the warlock’s knuckles to his lips, and planted a firm kiss right in the center. This earned a peal of delighted laughter from Merlin that knocked the breath from the poor king’s chest. 

 “Compliment. Yes,” is all Arthur managed to push out of his mouth. 

Merlin was so beautiful, all shining eyes and bony elbows. He always had been. 

Arthur wanted desperately for Merlin to kiss him down his neck and arms, and talk to him in that lovely, reassuring voice he reserved especially for Arthur; The same type of deeply admiring tone he had when he told Arthur he was a just king, and a good man. He wanted to be worthy of Merlin, in all his messy, jumbly glory. 

Merlin pulled his hands away from Arthur’s to push back the king’s hair. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed... Perhaps we should skip dinner for tonight.”

Arthur tried to shake away this foreign and powerful sense of devotion he felt towards Merlin. “No, you’re not getting out of it that easily.”

Merlin grasped his tunic in mock offense. “How dare you?! I wouldn’t miss this dinner for the world!”

“But you’d… miss it for me,” Arthur replied hopefully.

“I do a lot of things for you,” Merlin reminded. “That’s why I agreed to this whole mess in the first place.”

The two of them stood smiling sillily at each other, like a pair of mirrors in a carnival house. 

Merlin suddenly went silent for a moment, brow knotting with disquietude. “Arthur, what Morgana said... Is it true?”

“...Merlin, which thing are you talking about? Morgana said a lot of questionable things.”

“Have you thought about… us. Together.”

Arthur felt like his lips would slip right off his face, like a drippy smear of oil paint. Because what was he even supposed to say to a question like that?

“ Pfft . No, of course not, Merlin. Quit flattering yourself,” he blabbered, already feeling his melty, waxy lips slide down to his chin. 

Merlin nodded along, looking…. strangely wounded. “Oh, okay then… I just was just wondering, because… your lie to the council this morning was, um. Unnecessarily in-depth.”

Arthur glanced out the window, observing the height of the sun in the sky. “Oh! Look at the time! Best get that coat on, Merlin.”

Merlin slid the coat over his shoulders and slowly opened the door to the hallway.

Did Arthur feel bad that he had lied?

Yes.

Did he really just want to answer every single one of Merlin’s questions?

Absolutely.

Was he afraid what would happen if he did that?

Positively terrified.

--------------------------------

The dinner ended up being a complete disaster. Yes, the kind of disaster that everyone would look back on and laugh, but in the moment was just a series of one unbearable fuck-up after another. 

It started out like this:

Arthur arrived in the dining hall as dramatically as possible, in an attempt to take his mind off Merlin, who was trailing behind him out of habit. 

Lady Heloise, Morgana, and an unfamiliar man who must have been Lord Bancroft stood up to greet him.  

“My liege,” Loise curtsied, along with the solemn nod of her father’s head. 

Lord Bancroft had graying, red hair and the same owlish eyes his daughter had, although his were particularly keen. They darted searchingly about the room, until finally landing dead-center on Merlin.

Merlin mirrored the lord’s earlier nod and stiffly followed Arthur to where they were sitting, at the head of the table.

Morgana, who was at the table corner to Arthur’s left, flashed him a covert grin while the guests weren’t looking.

Soon the servants came out with the first course, and a couple pitchers of wine. 

Now, Merlin had attended many royal dinners standing behind Arthur with that pitcher. He knew the proper etiquette inside and out for this sort of thing. When it was acceptable to talk, which spoon to take, and who to bow to. 

But at the end of it all, he was a peasant. It felt wrong to him to suddenly have to abide by this system of standards as a noble would, when he’d never had to before.

This was where the first mishap occurred. 

When one of the servants leaned over to pour wine into his cup, he instinctively grabbed the pitcher from her hands, and poured it himself. 

Everyone paused.

Morgana was less and less successfully fighting off a smile, Heloise was casting him rather sympathetic glances, and Arthur looked to be experiencing a barely subdued version of sheer mortal terror. 

 As for Lord Bancroft, he only scratched at his white patched beard and raised his chin ever so appraisingly in Merlin’s direction. 

Merlin swiftly returned the pitcher to the cup bearer’s waiting hands with a low and quiet ‘thanks.’ 

“So!” Arthur began, leaning amicably over the table as a desperate attempt at distraction. “How are things back in Mora? I hear you’ve been hired to train the king’s knights!”

Lord Bancroft paused to take a sip of wine and pat his lips with a napkin. “Now, well… I’m sure my daughter’s already told you all about it,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to ring redundant.”

The truth of the matter was, Merlin had done the majority of the talking with Lady Heloise. The only reason Arthur knew anything about her father was because of faded memories, and snippets of information here and there from court. He probably could have stood to talk to the Lady more, but from the very beginning, the council’s intention was to set them up, so he avoided conversation like the plague. 

“It would be no inconvenience, I assure you,” Arthur replied. 

Lord Bancroft dipped his head appreciatively. “I’ve trained apprentices in the past,” he began. “I’ve turned out fighters such as Sir Bavol, Durriken and Irving. This was my first year training the crown’s knights specifically, and in such large numbers.”

Arthur tried to listen. He really did. But it was about at that point all the lord’s words went fuzzy and dim in his head. Occasionally, he’d tune back in when an interesting word caught his notice, (mostly during the part about advanced sword techniques) but for the most part, he only made the perfunctory sounds of an attentive listener while daydreaming about the curve of Merlin’s waist under his palms.

At one point, he snapped back into the conversation when Lord Bancroft began talking about his experiences at mentoring apprentices over the years. 

“You know, Merlin’s an apprentice,” he contributed, sitting up a little prouder. 

Merlin startled at hearing his name. He’d mostly just been wordlessly eating his chicken while trying to keep track of the conversation around him. “Well, I mean- Not anymore,” he amended, gripping at the fabric of his sleeves. “I’ve actually finished my training. I’m now the current court physician’s successor.” 

“Ah, a physician!” Bancroft crowed. “You must be a very smart man.”

“I certainly hope so, m’lord,” Merlin laughed. 

“And modest too. I can see why you brought this one to dinner, Your Majesty.”

Lady Heloise gulped down the bite of bread in her mouth and cleared her throat nervously. “Father, um- He’s brought him to dinner because- Well, they’re married.”

This was when the second mishap occurred. Or could it rightly be called a mishap? Perhaps it was more of a debacle. 

“The king… is married ….. to the court physician…” the lord drawled, parsing out this new information. 

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand from under the table. 

“Yes, father,” Heloise replied. “Arthur is already happily wed.”

Lord Bancroft slowly turned his sharp and inquisitive gaze on the happy couple. “I’m sorry, sire, but I believed the purpose of this social call was to revisit your and my daughter’s previous betrothal.”

“I’m sorry you were misinformed,” Arthur answered in the steadiest voice he could manage. “My only intention was to reconnect with a childhood friend.”

“Ah, I see…” The lord pinched his chin in his fingers. “I was just hoping that… my daughter could get married to a good man like yourself, you understand.”

“I don’t want to get married, Dad.”

Correction. This was the real debacle. 

From this single sentence rose a shouting match that could be heard across the echoing stones of the castle courtyard. Lord Bancroft didn’t look it, but his voice could raise louder and louder with the greater intensity of his rage. But for every decibel raised by the lord, Lady Heloise raised two. It seemed that this argument had been years coming. 

“Heloise! Running away to fight monsters is just your silly, childish dream!”

“Well that just proves I’m passionate about it, if I’ve kept it alive for so long!” she shouted back. 

“I only want what’s best for you!”

“No, you want the most convenient option !”

Arthur and Merlin watched, and winced at the most painful points and jabs. Morgana just kept taking slow sips of her wine, trying not to remember fights she’d had reminiscent of this one. 

The argument blasted on for a solid five more minutes. Lady Heloise was glaring daggers at her father with bitter eyes by the end of it.

Lord Bancroft unfurled his hands from their tight fists and stood out of his chair. “I’m sorry to bring family issues into your peaceful, evening dinner, Your Grace. My daughter and I will be taking this elsewhere.”

Heloise curtsied stiffly and tottered out of the dinning hall after her father. 

Once the door had slammed closed, Morgana set down her goblet. “Well at least it’s not like family issues weren’t a regular part of evening dinner,” she mused. 

Merlin eyed the door anxiously. “Do you think they’re going to be alright?”

Arthur let out a long wuff of air. “Who can say? At least it sounded like they were still willing to talk about it.”

“Uther never let us talk,” Morgana said, cutting up her remaining chicken into aggressive little pieces. “If we had a different opinion, we usually had to apologize for it.”

“Our father was… a man of many flaws,” Arthur agreed. 

Merlin tapped the side of his boot to Arthur’s. “Do you want to go?” he asked. 

“Where to?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Morgana lifted herself heavily from her seat and smoothed out the folds of her dress. “Well, I for one, would like to see my wife, so I’ll be taking up Merlin’s offer.”

She kissed them both on the top of the head and hurried to the door. “Goodnight.”

“Night, ‘Gana,” Merlin mumbled after her. 

After a couple moments, he turned to Arthur and touched their foreheads together. “Should we follow her lead?” he asked, gently cupping Arthur’s cheek.

“ God , yes,” Arthur sighed, trying to breathe in Merlin’s closeness. “Today definitely warrants a good night’s sleep.”

Merlin cracked a smile, and the two of them were laughing until their sides split with a shared, morbid hilarity. The kind you only get when you’ve gone through bad experiences together. 

Arthur sighed one last time before getting to his feet, hoisting Merlin up along with him. “Come on, you pest of a man. We have some becoming unconscious to do.”

Merlin stuck his tongue out at him as they crossed the threshold into the hallway. 

“Ah yes. How very adult,” Arthur shot back. 

“Look, I’ve been doing adult things all week. I haven’t had any time lately to play hopscotch or put toads in your shoes for the fun of it, so you’re going to have to excuse a bit of childishly-based mockery here and there.” Merlin clucked his tongue. “Honestly, Arthur. Show a bit more clemency.” 

Arthur chuckled. “I’ll try.” 

(He also made a mental note to check his shoes for toads before putting them on in the future.)

The two of them ribbed each other back and forth down the corridor, swaying happily towards Arthur’s chambers. At one point, Merlin looped his arm through Arthur’s distractedly, not even noticing through his own thick storm of chatter. 

Arthur’s chest warmed with absolute adoration. He felt as if he were glowing out of his face like a bright and steady lantern. What a ridiculous and intense feeling this was. 

Just then, a new set of footsteps sounded from far down the hallway. 

“ Shit ,” Arthur cursed under his breath. “It’s Councilor Algernon. I really don’t want to talk to him.”

Merlin peered down the corridor at the heavily robed old man. “So what should we do?” he whispered back. 

“Hide before he sees us.”

And with that, Arthur yanked Merlin by the arm into a small alcove next to the wall tapestry. 

The air was tense with the charge of excitement and the danger of getting caught. The two of them hardly dared breathe for fear it would catch the councilor’s attention. 

After nearly thirty seconds of staying as still as absolutely possible, the councilor bumbled past their hiding place, not even looking up from the scroll of parchments he was mulling over. 

Once he’d finally disappeared completely around the corner, Arthur let out a small snort of amusement. 

Merlin looked him straight in the eyes.

And they both burst out laughing again. 

“How-? How did that even work?! ” Merlin managed to say through a painful amount of laughter. 

“ I don’t know! ” Arthur blurted back.

Merlin shook his head, hiding his beaming face in Arthur’s shoulder. “My God, we’re both such idiots.”

It was then that Arthur became aware of the exact situation:

Merlin’s back was pressed into the rough stone of the wall, and Arthur himself was the one doing the pressing. 

“Merlin?” he murmured into the warlock’s hair. 

“ Mmm ?” he responded, pulling back from the king’s shoulder.

Whatever Arthur was about to say was completely thrown out the window.

Merlin looked breathtaking in the dim light of the corridor. His jaw was sharp, and his eyelashes were soft and fluttery. His large, mousy ears were outlined by the flickering orange candlelight glowing in their wrought-iron holders. 

He drifted forward slowly, giving Merlin plenty of opportunity to pull away. Merlin’s eyes only flickered impatiently to his lips. 

Arthur swooped in for the kiss.

The first time their lips met, it was without hardly any pressure. Just a soft, closed touching of mouths that Arthur hoped made clear to Merlin he could still take it all back. 

Luckily for Arthur, Merlin didn’t seem to want to do that at all. 

Once they broke the first kiss, Merlin reeled him in for a second, firmer one. And another, and another. His hand roamed up from Arthur’s arm to the back of his neck, where he brushed his fingers through the short, blonde hairs there. 

Arthur felt the curve of Merlin’s waist under his palms, just like he was dreaming about earlier. 

After a couple minutes more of slow kisses, Arthur finally worked up the courage to part the seam of Merlin’s lips with his tongue. 

Merlin lingered in it for a few seconds before pulling away. “Arthur. Why are we-? Are you sure this is-?” he panted, unable to get the words out. 

“...Do you not want to?” Arthur asked, semi-self-consciously. Maybe he’d went a bit too far adding the tongue. 

Merlin pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “No, no. I really want to… But it just makes everything more… complicated.”

Arthur really had nothing to say to that. Their situation was already so messy. No way they could fit their burgeoning feelings on top.

Merlin slid the hand at Arthur’s neck down to his chest. “...But then again, I really, really want to.”

The two of them kissed, a tad desperately this time. They were dramatic by nature. It couldn’t be helped. Arthur nipped gently at Merlin’s lips, and he smiled, tugging Arthur in closer by the back of his head. 

Arthur moved down to kiss at the column of Merlin’s throat. The warlock hummed in satisfaction, and he felt it reverberate against his lips. 

Arthur felt he’d never loved anyone as completely as he loved Merlin. From day one, the man broke him down only to build him back up again. And through that, he felt each time he was built as a better person. Merlin was intelligent and beautiful, no matter how much Arthur told him otherwise. He was loyal to a fault, to the people he thought deserved it, and Arthur would forever try to live up to the man in him that Merlin found deserving. 

He knew when to be gentle.

And he knew when to be exacting. 

He was precisely the kind of person Arthur would want to rule by his side. Why wasn’t this man married to him for real?

A cough sounded from next to the two lovebirds.

Merlin and Arthur jumped apart to find Sir Leon standing in front of them rather uncomfortably. “Um. I was sent to notify you that. Um.” He paused to clear his throat. “Lord Bancroft apologizes for the, uh… scene caused at dinner, and he would like to… err… train the squires tomorrow in basic sword technique. As recompense.” 

Arthur blinked excruciatingly slowly. “Great…………. Great! His services would be, uh, greatly appreciated. Give him the go-ahead on training tomorrow,” he said, trying his best to sound dignified despite the circumstances. 

Sir Leon gave him a quick nod in the affirmative and backed away. “I’ll just… leave you to your…. What was it you called it last time? ... Poetry .”

Once Leon had vanished, Arthur dropped an exhausted head onto Merlin’s shoulder. “That was so embarrassing,” he mumbled through the fabric of Merlin’s coat. 

Merlin laughed awkwardly and pet Arthur’s soft, blond hair. “I know. How scandalous of us! I feel like a bloody teenager again!”

Arthur smiled and lifted his head. “Do a lot of making out in dark corners when you were younger, eh?”

“Oh, shut up . So what if I did?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said, pecking Merlin’s cheek. “Just explains why you’re so good at it.”

Merlin returned the kiss to Arthur’s lips. As he pulled away, he sighed. “We really do need to talk about this, though... Before we do anything rash.”

“Who says we’re going to do something rash?”

Merlin raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Arthur, you have to admit, our track record is not that great.” 

Arthur groaned. “ Fine .”

Suddenly, he perked up again. “But can we still go make out in my chambers first?”

Merlin grinned wide, like a merry little imp. “Race you there!”

Later Arthur would complain that Merlin had a couple seconds head start, but really, Merlin was just faster. 

Chapter Text

A couple days later found Arthur in front of Guinevere’s house. 

The sun was just starting to sink down towards the earth, and the sky bore splendid orange and purple stretch-marks across its expanse. 

Arthur realized it was a little late in the day to be making a social call, but he’d been too nervous to do it when he’d finally got a break at noon. He was still nervous. So far, he’d just been standing on her front step trying to gather the courage to knock on the door. Hopefully Gwen was at home to see him and he wouldn’t be bothering her too much. 

The door slowly creaked open, and a round, concerned face poked out from behind it. “Arthur?” Gwen said. “You’re welcome to come in, you know. I looked out the window a while ago to see you just dithering around out here.”

She opened the door wider and ushered him inside. 

“Um. I didn’t mean to intrude,” he responded, noticing the pot of stew boiling over the fire. Gwen’s dinner. 

She flapped a hand at him. “No, I’ll have none of that. I made too much anyway. You know how making things without a recipe goes…”

Arthur really didn’t know how that went. Or making things with a recipe, for that matter. He thought it best not to mention it seeing as Gwen was being so accommodating.  

With whip-speed, she pushed him into a chair and set a bowl of stew in front of him. Arthur made sure to thank her very loudly before consuming a huge spoonful with many chunks of potato in it. Even though he’d already had dinner, everybody knew Gwen’s stew was the best and should never be passed up on. 

Once she’d sat down next to him with her own dish of stew, they began to talk. “So what was it you came over here for?” she asked.

“Must there be a reason , Guinevere?”

“Oh, but you looked so worried! No one looks that worried if they’re just stopping by!”

Arthur grumbled and poked at the carrots floating around in his bowl. “...I’m not worried. Just, what I’m going to ask of you is very momentous, okay?”

Gwen glanced under the table at Arthur’s furiously bouncing knee. “Mhmm...”

Arthur gulped and opened his mouth.

And took a few more bites of stew as a means of stalling.

“ Arthur .”

“Fine!” He dropped his spoon shakily, and it clattered to the table. “You know how Merlin and I are… married?”

“Yeeeessss…?” she asked more than said. Her brows suddenly knit together with concern. “Oh no! Are you two okay? Is there trouble in-? Well not ‘ paradise ’ exactly. You do seem to bicker quite a lot, but I just assumed that was…... Oh no! How long has this been going on!?”

Arthur grabbed her by the shoulders and settled her back into her chair, for she had stood up during her great panic. “Get a hold of yourself, Guinevere! Me and Merlin are perfectly fine . It’s just that…”

“It’s just that what? ”

“We’re not technically… in the eyes of Camelot… from a legal standpoint… actually married , per say.”

Gwen tipped back a bit in her chair, looking almost as if she’d been slapped. “You never…? But that- That can’t be true!”

She mumbled on quietly to herself as she bit at her nails.

“I can assure you it’s true,” Arthur replied, as she tore apart a potato chunk with her fork. 

“Were you married by the druids?”

Arthur shook his head. “Were we married by the-? I’m sorry, what? ” 

“Were you married by the druids?” she asked again, becoming more and more sure that she was right. “You said you weren’t wed in the eyes of Camelot, so you must have been married under another religious or legal system, because there’s no way-”

“We were never married, Guinevere. Not under any system.”

Gwen sucked a whole lot of air into her cheeks so that she looked rather like an angry puffer-fish. “But that just doesn’t make any sense!” she cried, bursting the bubble. “Why would you submit yourself to the political difficulties of being married to Merlin without the benefit of actually being married to him ?!” 

Arthur tried to get a word in edgewise, but she wasn’t quite done.

“He’s the love of your life, Arthur! You two have been courting for so long, I assumed you’d gone and gotten married in secret. Now you finally get to openly talk about your relationship, and you lead with a lie? ...I just really don’t understand!” She stuffed a few confounded bites of chicken and celery in her mouth as she tried to sort out this whole crazy situation. 

“Look, you seem to be working under the assumption that… we knew we loved each other,” he observed, sensing this was his opportunity to talk. 

Gwen’s furious chewing slowed down, a signal for him to elaborate. 

“We probably always have had feelings for each other, that much is true,” he admitted, trying not to go red.  “But neither of us knew that, so we never went courting, or… got married.”

“....So why have you got everyone under the impression that you did?” she asked, after swallowing down her food. 

“Didn’t want to be married to one of those damn princesses the council keeps pushing on me. At the time, I figured a lie was the only way out.” 

Gwen sat silent, well aware how stupid of a plan that was, but choosing not to say anything because she knew Arthur was aware of it too.

“Gwen,” he said. 

She perked up to look him straight in the eyes. 

“...I fell in love with him. Well, no. That’s not entirely correct… I realized I’d fallen in love with him… only just a couple days ago,” he said. 

Gwen blinked back an expression of surprise, and then… rolled her eyes. “Only you two idiots…” she groaned, shaking her head with faint amusement. “And have you both declared your affections?”

Arthur thought back to he and Merlin’s conversation in his bedroom. A serious talk indeed, but one generously interspersed with long, lazy kisses and hands traveling up the other person’s tunic.

“Oh….. yes …..” he sighed, mouth ticking up at the corners in a pleased, muzzy grin. 

Gwen snorted through her hands. “Oh, no! This is almost worse than the hopeless pining!” she lamented, though it was by no means sincere. The tension had been just about killing her, and she was glad that the doleful, yearning glances had finally come to an end. “So what is it that you needed my help for?”

“Well, see… Here’s the thing…” he began, skimming a hand behind the back of his neck. “I’m not married to Merlin, but… I want to be.”

“Ah! That’s wonderful, Arthur!” she exclaimed, hopping out of her seat to embrace him. “Does Merlin know?”

He patted her on the back, not knowing exactly how to handle a proper hug. “I haven’t proposed yet, but I’m planning on doing it soon.”

“Can I make the ring?!”

“That’s what I needed you for!” he laughed. 

“Oooohh! I’ll start sketching up some designs!” she squealed, releasing him to wander over to her work table. “It’ll be beautiful, and unique, and magical. Just like Merlin!”

Arthur walked home that night with a bounce in his step and love in his heart.

A nearby village boy narrowed his eyes at the king ambling down the street.

What was he doing looking so happy near Gwen’s house at such a late hour?

---------------------------------

“We’ve called this convergence of the council to address certain issues that have recently come to our attention,” Councilman Grigor said, clasping his hands with a know-it-all smirk. 

Arthur would have punched his smug face in if he wasn’t painfully aware how much worse that would make things for himself. 

“By ‘certain issues,’ of course, I mean our liege’s recently discovered infidelity.”

Merlin, who was sitting next to Arthur at the long table in the council chambers, snuck a glance at his husband. 

There was no way Arthur had actually cheated. Not after the way he’d pressed Merlin into the pillows of his bed and kissed him all over like he was precious. He could feel Arthur’s rough hands stroke his sides and could hear his sharp intake of breath when Merlin left a mark on his neck. 

The warlock resisted the urge to shiver in the middle of a meeting. 

“There has been no infidelity. Discovered or otherwise,” Arthur replied, gritting his teeth.

Councilman Grigor raised his eyebrows, looking very much like he’d trapped the king in a cage of his own making. “Oh? But there is proof .” 

A lanky boy in his mid-teens stepped out from the back of the room. He was twisting his fingers around in his hands. 

“This is Jerod. Jerod, tell us what you’ve seen.”

“Y- yesterday evening,” he began. “I saw Our Majesty… walking out o’ the blacksmith’s house lookin’ pretty pleased about something.” 

Merlin’s nose wrinkled with confusion. Arthur hadn’t mentioned anything about visiting Gwen last night. He’d only pecked Merlin on the lips, said he had to take care of some last minute official business, and came back in time for the both of them to curl up into each other’s arms and go to sleep. 

Arthur, sensing Merlin’s suspicion, winced and grabbed both his love’s hands as he spoke his next words. “There was nothing in it. Guinevere is a dear friend of mine, and the wife of my sister,” he reminded. “Can’t a man pay a visit to his sister-in-law every once in awhile?”

Morgana, who was also in attendance, stood up rather abruptly. “It’s insulting enough that you’ve accused your King of this kind of betrayal, but my wife ? You’re aware that my Gwen is an angel, are you not?”

Councilman Algernon spluttered apologetically. “I’m sorry, m’lady. I know this must be hard to hear.”

Gwen settled Morgana back into her chair and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Please, sir. It was just a simple social call. We sat down and had some stew, and made plans for-” She glanced over at Arthur, who bore a look of half-subdued panic in his eyes. “His new sword,” she finished. “He wanted a suitably ceremonial-looking one. He has tired of the one he currently uses for court functions.”

Arthur thought maybe he should be in cahoots with Gwen more often. She was a surprisingly remarkable lier.  

Although the council seemed to be begrudgingly accepting this as an explanation, Merlin wasn’t so sure. Calling upon Gwen for a new ceremonial sword was official business, but she’d paused in the middle of her sentence to look at Arthur. Almost like she was checking to see if she would have to lie…

Merlin knew Arthur was faithful, that much was abundantly clear, but he definitely didn’t go to Gwen’s house for a weaponry replacement. 

No matter. Merlin would worm the truth out of him later with a couple well-aimed curious looks and plenty of lingering touches. He pressed a covert kiss to the mark on Arthur’s neck, a promise for later. Now it was Arthur’s turn to shiver. 

Unluckily, the kiss wasn’t as covert as either of them would’ve hoped. 

“Now where’d that, erm…. bruise come from?” one of the councilmen asked, uncomfortable but triumphant. 

Arthur sighed, exasperated and deeply embarrassed. “It came from Merlin, obviously. Were you not there for the meeting just a couple days ago?”

The councilor’s mouth turned down with distaste, remembering. “No, no. I was there…” 

They all collectively shuddered at the memory, except for Morgana, who cackled loudly. 

Once Gwen had calmed Morgana down enough to stop laughing, another councilor moved to speak. “Now I know this all seems like circumstantial evidence to you all, and the King will be quick to refute it, but the real clincher on the whole thing is that Our Majesty and Lady Guinevere have been romantically involved in the past. Who’s to say he wouldn’t fall back into her arms?” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits. “Because I care about Morgana and respect Guinevere too much for that. And more than anything else, I love Merlin.”

Merlin’s heart flooded with affection for Arthur, and a sense of potent bravery. The chair legs scraped across the floor as he stood up. “Look, you’ve been trying to force an annulment on us for some time now,” he remarked. “And in your rush to split us apart, you have forgotten, this time, that it is completely our decision to annul the marriage if Arthur were unfaithful. Now, I don’t believe he is , but I just wanted to remind you; It’s most definitely none of your business .”

With that, he sat back down in his seat, beaming from ear-to-ear at his husband. 

Arthur’s heart stuttered as he smiled right back. 

Every time he thought he couldn’t be more in love with this man…

This was the man he’d had in mind that very first council meeting; Merlin, sharply intelligent, immensely powerful, and yet endlessly endearing. Only he could cut down an entire room full of powerful individuals and manage to look like a clumsy, baby deer in the same breath. 

Vaguely, he heard the shocked silence of the room break with Morgana actually starting to clap. 

Everyone broke from their reveries to look at her. 

“What?” she said. “It just felt appropriate.”

Everyone except Arthur, who was now nearly melting into the table with affection. 

Merlin gathered up his mess of a lover and guided him to the door. “Now seeing as we’ve said all that there is to be said about this matter, I think the meeting is adjourned.”

No one dared argue with him. 

----------------------------

“Arthur, what did you go to Gwen’s house for?” Merlin asked, wasting no time once they were far enough down the hallway. 

“For a new sword, like she said,” Arthur replied, swinging his and Merlin’s clasped hands as they walked. 

Merlin clucked his tongue. “Now, see, I don’t believe you.” He released Arthur’s hand and stopped in front of him. “I think you and Gwen are up to something.”

Arthur pressed a couple placating kisses to Merlin’s brow and the side of his nose. “But surely, you don’t think-”

“No, I know you’ve been perfectly faithful, Arthur.”

The king sighed as his warlock traced lines up and down his spine with long fingers. “So why can’t you just take my word for it when I tell you that’s why I stopped by Guinevere’s?”

“Because I know you,” he said, mouthing into Arthur’s neck. “And I know when you’re lying.”

Arthur tapped his fingers anxiously on Merlin’s shoulders. “But if I tell you, then it’ll ruin the surprise… and it’s not even ready yet.”

Merlin pulled back to bump his forehead into Arthur’s. “What? What surprise? Is it for me?” he prodded, going all giddy like a curious child. 

Arthur smiled quite toothily back at him and nuzzled into his cheek. “Yes, the surprise is for you.” He gulped, and Merlin concernedly tracked the motion with his eyes. “And it’s very important to me that it’s perfect before I reveal it.”

“Oh, Arthur… I’m sure whatever it is, it’s already perfect.”

Arthur wanted to do it right now. To propose on the spot and let his wonderful warlock know how special he was. But in the middle of the hallway, right after a meeting in which infidelity was the main topic… not so romantic. The ring was also but a stack of doodles in Gwen’s workshop at the moment. Arthur didn’t want to propose with naught a token of his affections to show of it. 

But…

As Merlin’s lips met his in a sweet and reassuring kiss, he knew he couldn’t keep anything from him for very long even if he tried.

“Merlin, love…” he breathed as they parted. “Let’s find somewhere nice and quiet.”

Chapter Text

A couple minutes later, Merlin and Arthur broke through one of the outer castle doors to step out onto the battlements. Outside, a bright, sunny afternoon was taking place, and they were high enough up in the air that the citadel chatter couldn’t reach their ears. 

Merlin propped himself up against the crenellated stone and looked out over Camelot. He felt Arthur come up beside him, a warm hand on his back. 

“So what’s this about a surprise I hear?” Merlin smiled, eyes still fixed on some indeterminable point on the horizon. 

He felt Arthur’s hand trail shakily up and over his shoulder. “It’s uh- It’s a little rough… Didn’t have time to finish, so… don’t count it against me.”

Merlin caught Arthur’s trembling hands and squeezed them tightly in his own. “Go ahead. I promise I won’t.” 

Arthur took in a long, stalling breath, and set his shoulders back with determination: 

“So I wanted to ask you again- Well, I didn’t really ask you that first time, did I? I just sort of thrust you into it, and honestly, I really am sorry about that but maybe now isn’t the time to apologize- And does that first instance qualify as an indicator of your most likely answer this time? Should I reasonably be able to extrapolate a conclusion from the meager data at hand? Anyways, back to what I was saying; I wanted to ask you if you would perhaps, maybe, possibly consider- uh…… umm…..”

Merlin tilted his head ever so slightly like a curious meerkat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really… catch that. You were talking rather fast.”

Arthur sighed and reached up to cradle Merlin’s face in his hands. He pressed a steady kiss to the ridge of his warlock’s nose. “I know I can do it. It just needs a couple tries.”

Merlin gazed up into his eyes patiently and nodded. 

At his silent little go ahead, Arthur reached into his trouser pocket and produced a small, folded up piece of paper.

Merlin, eyebrows raised in surprise and fascination, took the little paper from Arthur and began to unfold it. 

Arthur watched as his expression morphed with each undone paper flap; First the brow furrowed, then the mouth parted, and finally a smile graced his lips.

“Arthur, this is… sketches of a ring?” he said, running his fingers reverently over the charcoal lines. The center stone was a flat disk of opal, carefully lined by twisting roots of silver. Part of the roots crept over the lip of the opal, almost like the ring was part of the forest overgrowth. Gwen had done fine work. 

“Yes, I- I hoped to be going into this with more than just the designs, but Guinevere didn’t have enough time to make the actual ring…” Arthur grimaced. 

“That’s why you-!” Merlin cut himself off, swiveling his head this way and that, as if looking for someone to share in his revelation. “That’s why you were at Gwen’s house yesterday!”

After a beat of simply smiling down at the drawings in his hand, he looked back up at Arthur, vaguely suspicious. “...And you’ve done this because….?”

Arthur gulped, steadying himself on the battlements. “You know, I think it’s fitting that- That no one ever questioned it when we told them we’d gone and gotten ourselves married. Not our closest friends. Not our family. Not even the council, who’s been trying to break us apart this entire time. So it is with that in mind that I ask….. Merlin of Ealdor, love of my life and other side of my coin, will you-” He screwed his eyes shut tight, steeling himself. “-Marry me?”

Silence.

A beat more.

Arthur wrenched one eye hesitantly open.

He was immediately met with the sight of Merlin standing frozen, a large and enamoured grin slowly creeping over his face. 

“Yes.”

His eyes shined with the beginnings of tears as he pulled Arthur close to his chest. “Yes, of course I will!”

Arthur released a shuddering breath of relief. Of course Merlin would marry him. What’d he even had to be worried about? 

He planted quick and messy kisses into Merlin’s hair, on his forehead, behind his ears. 

Merlin laughed, hiccuping slightly. He pecked at Arthur’s jaw a bit before pressing a zealous, lovelorn kiss to his lips. 

The two of them settled into it for some minutes, hands roaming down to hips and into hair. Merlin liked the way Arthur was holding him; Budging him in close like he was precious and important. 

The two of them only pulled away when Arthur caught the sharp indent of metal in Merlin’s trouser pocket. He fished out the offending item to find a simple, tarnished ring in his palm. 

Merlin glanced up at him sheepishly. “So… I might have also been planning to propose…” he chuckled. “I know the ring isn’t as nice as the one Gwen’s making… I found it in one of Gaius’ junk drawers and I was going to cast some glamours on it to make it pretty. Didn’t end up having the time...”

Arthur began to grin wide as he tilted the ring this way and that, watching the afternoon sun glint off its ridges. “Alright, so ask me then,” he said.

“...But I already know your answer,” Merlin countered, chewing on the skin of his lip.

“Ask me anyway,” Arthur repeated, tucking the ring back into Merlin’s hands. 

Merlin shot a frown of befuddlement down at the copper band lying placidly in his palm. “.....Arthur, will you marry me?” he asked, glancing up at the man with the beginnings of a smile teasing his lips.

“Yes,” he intoned, letting Merlin slide the ring onto his finger. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Merlin snorted incredulously and pushed at Arthur’s shoulder. “Oh stop it, you.”

Arthur cackled loudly at his own joke, nearly folding in half under the weight of his hilarity. “I couldn’t help it! It was just right there .” He fell back against the stone of the battlements, wheezing.

Merlin settled next to him, shaking his head in vaguely amused disappointment.  

When Arthur finally calmed down enough to breathe again, Merlin turned to him, taking his newly ring-adorned hand in his fingers. “Arthur, I do have one question…”

The king turned to face his warlock attentively. 

“How is it that we’re going to explain this to everyone? Will we get married in secret like we said we already did? Or if it’s a public marriage, will we-? How will we pass it off?”

Arthur pursed his lips. “...You know, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“What, you went into this whole thing without a plan?” Merlin chuckled, as Arthur’s ringed hand dropped out of his to pull him in by the waist.

“I had a plan,” he replied. “It just didn’t extend beyond getting you to marry me.”

“Am I to take that as a compliment?”

Arthur heard Merlin laugh as he nosed into his cheek. “I suppose so. You got the king in such a rush to marry you, he didn’t think past hearing your ‘yes.’” 

Once the two of them parted from a quick kiss, Arthur added, “But I was thinking this could be a public marriage. To make up for the secrecy of the, uh… first one.”

Merlin grinned mischievously, his forehead against Arthur’s. 

“You know, that just might work.”

-----------------------------------------

“Merlin, quit squirming! I’m trying to brush your hair,” Gwen commanded, pushing him back down into his chair by the shoulders.

It was a couple weeks later, and the marriage ceremony was finally underway. Morgana and Gwen had insisted they get to fix Merlin up for it, and so they all stood huddled around Morgana’s grand vanity, currently trying to prevent Merlin from standing up out of his seat again.

“I’m sorry, Gwen! I’m just- I’m nervous, alright?” he cried, griping the edges of the chair.

She clicked her tongue disparagingly. “Well you’re allowed to be nervous, but please don’t do it with quite so much motion , alright?”

“It’s not like it’s going to work, anyway…” he grumbled. “My hair doesn’t follow directions.”

Morgana laughed from beside him, where she was comparing the merits of two different tunics against each other.  “That sounds just like you! And we know how to deal with you , don’t we?”

Gwen stopped brushing momentarily to stoop down and give Merlin a small kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Merlin, it’s true. A man and his hair are hardly ever separate entities,” she said. 

Merlin took a steadying breath and tried to relax into his seat. “Fine,” he retreated. “I will allow you to try.”

While Gwen resumed her brushing-down, humming along to some ear-worm of a cheery tune, Morgana thrust one of the tunics in front of Merlin’s face. 

“We’re definitely going with this one. The dark turquoise color goes well with your skin-tone, and it’s got a bit lower of a neck line.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “What’s so important about the neck line?”

“Your collar bones,” Morgana replied, which cleared nothing up. “Arthur won’t stop mentioning them. He’s just pathetically in love with you like that, I’m afraid.”

Gwen looked up from Merlin’s hair to find his reflection in the mirror positively red with embarrassment. 

“Honestly, ‘Gana!” she scolded. “You could’ve just told him low neck-lines were in fashion!”

Morgana shrieked with laughter. “Oh, but the truth is just so much more fun! ”

Merlin pulled down his shirt collar just a smidge to look at his clavicles. He supposed he did have a rather nice set of them… 

Gwen tutted from behind him. “Don’t mind her, Merlin. I love her to pieces, but she’s an absolute pain.”

Morgana, in the most sophisticated and grown-up way that one could, stuck her tongue out.

“Oh, I don’t mind too terribly, Gwen. I am marrying the other Pendragon sibling, after all,” Merlin blushed. 

“True, true,” Gwen agreed, now trying to inflict a part on Merlin’s scalp with the sharp teeth of a comb. “Their lot are so moody, aren’t they?”

“I am standing right here!” Morgana huffed. 

Gwen reached over to plant a kiss on her wife’s lips. “I’m sorry, hon, but you're only proving my point.”

Morgana sniffed and raised her chin indignantly. “...I suppose.”

She strode over to her bed, where she’d laid out a few capes and trousers, while Gwen and Merlin laughed to each other. She picked out a long, embroidered robe, and a red cape from the selection.

A couple seconds later, both articles of clothing hit Merlin square in the face.

“Here,” she said. “Put those on.”

Merlin batted at his face until the clothes fell into his lap. “Hey!” he squawked at Morgana. 

She only snickered at him through her hands. 

It was a long while until he was ready; Their conversations kept devolving into giggle-fits, and at one point, Gwen thought she had lost the ring only to find it already on Merlin’s finger. 

All in all, Merlin couldn’t have been more grateful to the both of them. They were the best of friends, and closest thing he’d ever have to sisters. 

A couple more critiques and once-overs in the mirror later, the two of them assured him he looked very handsome and promptly shoved him out the door. 

-----------------------------

The moment was here, and Merlin was more than a little terrified. 

He was standing in front of the large, double-doors to the throne room, dauntingly alone on the precipice of a new side of life. The hallway was far too cavernous and wide, and he was but a dot quaking in the middle of it. The size of it felt like it had leapt upon him all of the sudden. 

Why did everything always have to be so massively important?

And why did he always have to be the centerpiece?

He heard a doorway down the hall creak open, and his eyes rushed to the source.

“Merlin? Are you all right?”

Gaius padded down the hallway to place a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

“No, no I’m fine,” Merlin spluttered. “I’m sure it’s just pre-wedding jitters.”

Gaius pointed the eyebrow in his direction.

“I’m just-” He wiggled the ring around on his finger. “I’m just really small.”

The old physician glanced up at the towering size of the doors and mouthed a quiet ‘oh’ of comprehension.

“You know? I’m just- Small. I’m small,” he continued. “And all my life is just so consistently…… big.”

“And now is no different…?” Gaius guessed.

Merlin nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed. 

After a moment, he lifted his eyes to his uncle’s again. “Wait. Why aren’t you in there with everyone else yet?”

“Hm. I thought I’d walk you down there. Seems a little intimidating to do it all by yourself,” he replied, as he tucked his arm into Merlin’s. 

Merlin blinked furiously, mouth curling up in the beginnings of a smile. “Oh.”

“Now before we go out there, I just want you to know,” Gaius admonished. “Is that it’s all small.”

He glanced up at the doors again for a brief and groggy second. “Well maybe not physically. But every person is just a person. Small like you. The magnitude of their collective actions can sometimes be daunting, but we must be reminded that it all stems from the decisions of small people .”

Merlin took a deep, steadying breath. “...And?”

“And all the people behind that door are also small,” his old mentor said. “Even the council. Even Arthur.”

He placed his free hand comfortingly on top of Merlin’s. The one that was grasping at the sleeve of his robe far too tightly. “You just have to focus on Arthur’s one simple decision; To love you. And your own decision, which is to-”

“Love him back.” Merlin finished.

Gaius patted his shoulder. “Exactly.”

Merlin’s grip on his uncle’s arm relaxed; Only a little, but it was enough. “...Thanks.”

“Any time.”

 Together they pushed through the double doors and stepped out into the aisle. Courtiers in extravagant clothing all looked back from the throne to find a nervous but determined Merlin standing at the edge of the room with Gaius. 

As Merlin walked, he was pleased to find not just strangers staring back at him, but also the faces of dear friends. 

The knights were all huddled in a group together, wearing their ceremonial chainmail. Their red cloaks rustled as they all pushed each other aside in order to be the first to smile at the groom to be. (Not that it really mattered in the end, but Merlin looked at Lancelot first.)

Morgana and Gwen stood on the other side, holding each other and grinning with pride at both their beloved sorcerer and the work it took to get him ready. He waved to them, a cheerful flutter of the hand, and they waved enthusiastically back. 

Only just next to them stood Lady Heloise and her father. They had made up fully in weeks past, and Lord Bancroft and gifted his daughter a strong and elegant sword as an apology. The two were working together in the mornings in order to teach her how to use it properly. It now lay sheathed at her hip as she whistled and clapped for Merlin.

A little bit farther down was Merlin’s mother. Hunith was wiping her eyes on her dress sleeves when Merlin passed. She was looking nicer than the usual farmer’s clothes she wore; Her dress was red and embellished by crossing cords of thin, golden rope. Her hair fell around her shoulders instead of tied up in a cloth. 

Merlin released Gaius’ arm for a moment to lean over and hug her. He was pretty sure he was just supposed to continue walking, but as a rule, he thought you should always give your mom a hug no matter the circumstance. 

Lastly of all was Arthur. He stood patiently next to the throne, smiling with a blinding and unhideable love in his eyes. The crown gleamed among the strands of his blond hair, and his long, red cape brushed against the floor. 

Merlin loved seeing him in ceremonial clothing even though as a servant, he used to despise the workload that came with festive occasions. He thought the delighted crinkle around his eyes was becoming, and that the fit of his jacket was handsome. 

Meanwhile, Arthur was following much the same train of thought. 

Finally Merlin was dressed with a level of importance that outwardly reflected his importance as a person. And yet amidst the polished appearance of his clothes, his hair still sprang outward, uncontrollable and endearing. His circlet lay uneven on his head. 

No one could ever make him less wonderfully Merlin than he was. 

Arthur’s heart nearly fainted in his chest when the warlock finally turned to look at him. 

He was unsurprised but thrilled when he found that same undeniable love reflected back at him.

He took both of Merlin’s hands in his and they stood smiling at each other in front of the throne. 

“Hello, love. Fancy seeing you here,” he whispered. 

Merlin shook his head and laughed. “Careful. There’s still a few minutes for me to change my mind.”

Arthur smiled cheekily and leaned close to Merlin’s ear. “Funny. I seem to recall you’ve had years to change your mind already. So forgive me if I’m not too concerned.”

Geoffrey coughed from behind them. “Shall we get going, sires?”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “What do you say? Should we get this show on the road?”

“Yeah, I think now is convenient enough,” Arthur shrugged.

Needless to say, the rest of the ceremony was interspersed with the occasional giggle from the altar.