Work Text:
Their wedding was scheduled for the coming week. Truly, all of the coming week. Camelot was to host a tourney, several feasts, an ongoing celebration to continue for days. In the scramble of preparation, it dawned upon Merlin in a moment of terrifying realization that he had no idea how to dance.
So here they were, alone in Arthur’s chambers, surrounded by peace and quiet for the first time since Arthur had announced their engagement. The only sound was the harp Merlin had bewitched to play softly as Arthur led him in a slow dance across the stone floor. Merlin was swimming in relief, his every muscle free of tension for the first time in days. All he had to focus on was the music, and following Arthur’s step.
Merlin closed his eyes and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder, heaving a deep sigh, perfectly content just to be, cherishing this moment lest the wind of life take him up again and scatter his contentment on the breeze. Taking in the warmth from the King’s chest, listening to him breathe, taking slow and measured steps....
“Darling, are you alright?”
At first, Merlin hadn’t known it was in Arthur to call him “darling,” or, “my love,” or any of the rest of it. But once he discovered how much Merlin loved the endearments, he said he couldn’t resist.
“Hmm?”
“The harp, Merlin.” Arthur’s feet came to a stop, as he took a hand away from Merlin’s waist and brought it to his chin, guiding Merlin’s face to look up at his own. “Are you alright?”
“I... Oh.” Merlin hadn’t even noticed that the music had stopped. “Sorry, I just–“
“It’s fine,” Arthur cut him off. “You don’t need to apologize. I just think that maybe you need a break.”
“I don’t know if you noticed, Arthur, but we can’t really afford a break—“
“My love, I could afford you anything,” Arthur said, moving his hand from Merlin’s chin to cradle the side of his face. “You need rest. Please? For me?” He stroked a thumb across his cheekbone, looking lovingly back and forth at both of Merlin’s eyes, and Merlin was weak.
“I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of.”
He was always weak when Arthur got like this, this uncharacteristic softness. No snark, no playful bickering. Just the full weight of Arthur’s affection on him. It made him weak, every time.
“Alright.”