Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arthur fought the urge to fidget with his mother’s ring.

It was all going to be over soon, judging by his father’s short clipped words. Uther Pendragon might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t one to take kindly to being treated like an oblivious idiot, not in his own kingdom. Arthur knew that and wasn’t anticipating his uncle’s polite words of apology to change that one bit. Still, Arthur couldn’t shake the tiredness that gripped his heart in a fist of iron. He felt like he hadn’t slept in months, heavy with the knowledge that this might as well be the last time he would ever set foot in his mother’s childhood home for a very long time to come.

He couldn’t understand it, what possessed Agravaine to tell Uther what he’s been doing for months especially now; what possessed him into doing it in the first place. It was borderline treason; to publicly use sorcery even in such a manner. Arthur wondered how his father would see fit to deal with Agravaine once they were home, probably an increase in taxes, or some kind of public humiliation only Uther would think of concocting. All he knew was that it wasn’t going to be subtle, not even Ygraine’s memory would help with that fact.

Experimenting on controlling Druids magic.

Arthur felt a surge of anger going through his veins as he remembered his uncle’s words. He wondered how Agravaine had managed to lure the poor Druids into his castle, how he had managed to trap them in his dungeons where whatever he meant by “experimentation” was being done, and how long this had been going on before his father had caught wind of it. Arthur certainly hadn’t, not a single report he had received over the past months mentioned anything of similar nature, but then again, most reports Arthur received were of a military nature, informing them of patrols and any trespassing on their borders, not of peaceful people who had done nothing being hunted and tortured for entertainment, or to better protect Camelot, as Agravaine put it.

Arthur released his almost painfully clutched grip on his cup. He briefly fought the urge to snap at the servant standing behind him, fidgeting with his feet for what felt like the hundredth time that evening and drawing Arthur’s attention to him away from his uncle’s explanations every few moments. The man was supposed to be out of Arthur’s eyesight and earshot, as all servants were supposed to be. He was supposed to stand back and anticipate Arthur’s needs, make sure his cup never ran dry. He was supposed to be a shadow, not to be seen. Except, the man was anything but unseen to Arthur. He had been a restless presence of energy behind Arthur the entire evening, attempting to ignore him felt like attempting to cover the sun with a sieve, insane and absolutely futile. Arthur wondered if the man had ever served anyone before, let alone the Prince, if he was already getting restless this early in the feast. Arthur supposed he never paid a mind to it before, but now that he thought about it, servants must be used to standing at their masters’ side for however hours these things tended to stretch. What was it, the man’s first day on the job? And he was made to serve Arthur, because of course everything about this visit had to be a disaster. Why not add a distractingly vexing servant to the mix?

So far, the supposed shadow in the dark has been a maddening presence in Arthur’s mind more so than anything he’s seen or anyone he’s met that night.

It was driving Arthur slowly mad.

Tuning his concentration back to the feast, Arthur wished he didn’t; Uther’s words felt like lead getting attached to Arthur’s limbs, weighing him down to the ground by the second. Arthur wished he hadn’t spent years training his senses to listen intently to every word his father spoke, because hard as he might, he couldn’t ignore their hidden meaning; that this wasn’t only going to be the last time Arthur was going to see Ygraine’s home again, but that her home was bound to suffer due to his uncle’s carelessness. Agravaine hadn’t publicly confessed to meddling with magic, but to also having hid the fact from Uther for months, possibly longer.

Still, the presence behind Arthur easily drew his attention back every moment or so. With every passing second, it was getting easier to let his attention drift to it. Arthur listened to the shuffling of feet behind him, saw the mob of soft raven hair out of the corner of his eye as the man bent forward to refill the cup Arthur didn’t realize he had emptied. Arthur tried to lean away, but found himself instinctively leaning in, chasing the scent of the odd combination of herbs and a distinct scent of the woods after rain. It instantly brought forth an image of the outdoors in Arthur’s mind, of the woods after a hard day’s hunt, when Arthur would sit by the fire as the sun sat behind the hills surrounding Camelot. During that time when everything turned into an almost otherworldly version of itself. 

Engulfed in the warmth of the memory, Arthur barely had the time to turn and catch a glimpse at the piercing blue eyes that hadn’t looked down from Arthur’s earlier that afternoon. Arthur had been tired from riding all day, and the man had been introduced to him as his servant for the length of his stay, looking like he was trying his hardest to stand still. Arthur remembered thinking how he had never seen eyes with such a distinct shade of blue before . 

Arthur drew a breath through his nose in attempt to calm his thoughts. He must’ve been getting drunk, no wonder he couldn’t remember when he had emptied his cup. He was getting dangerously close to composing a ballad about a servant. Without thinking, he moved his hand, but was a moment too late covering his cup, wanting to indicate he didn’t wish for more, and ended up with the wine all over his hand and some on the table.

Arthur’s first instinct was to snap something cruel to the soft offhandedly given word of apology that caught his ear. He needed to demand another servant to attend him for the rest of their stay, but he was tired and didn’t have energy left in him to turn it into anger. Or, that was what he told himself as he silently waved off the servant’s hands, having reached over with some kind of cloth to dry the spilt wine. For a moment, Arthur almost took it back as the servant retreated back into the darkness upon Arthur’s wave, taking the warmth that engulfed Arthur’s entire side with him and leaving Arthur weary and cold again.

Arthur wished his uncle would stop talking .

He shook his head at his thoughts. He needed to get control over himself, it wasn’t due for him to make a scene because he was feeling like a child again; mourning a mother he never knew.

Ygraine’s spirit had been with him since the moment he had set foot into her home. Arthur had always had a sense of her since he was a child, even if all he knew of her could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Here the sense was stronger. Ygraine grew up here, in this castle and on these grounds, had met his father here, she had breathed and walked and smiled in these halls. It was tangible evidence that she had existed more so than anything Arthur’s ever had of her before. It was intoxicating to walk these grounds where the mention of her wasn’t hushed or talked of in fear. Arthur had asked to be shown to her old rooms as a young girl the moment his father got distracted with something or the other. He had been planning to sit with his uncle later, or anyone who was willing to talk of Ygraine with him, to ask about every detail about her life there. He wanted to know how she spent her days, what foods she liked best, if she had had friends that were here still. He had planned to inhale everything he could find of her here and take it home with him, a small comfort for when he felt the weight of everything crushing him and needed a hand to ease the burden of it all.

Little did he know that their return to Camelot was going to be a lot sooner than he had anticipated, and with even more unknown mysteries of his mother’s life before Camelot to dwell uselessly on than before.

Arthur had puzzled over his father’s decision to come here for the longest time. He could hardly believe it when Uther had announced that there was going to be a visit to Ygraine’s homeland three days prior, even assumed Uther was going to send him alone at first. Officially, the reason for the visit was social, but Arthur was almost positive there was another motive for his father to not only hint of the fact that Ygraine had ever existed, but to decide a visit to her home was due after so many years.

Now, at least, that reason was coming to light. If what Agravaine was saying was true, Uther must’ve been informed of what was happening and had intended to confirm it himself. Arthur didn’t know if it was a genius or a stupid move of Agravaine to come clean about what he's been doing. Maybe he thought telling Uther outright would make it look like it was his plan all along. Arthur could think of how whatever Agravaine was doing could be seen as something in full alignment with Uther’s policies, but Arthur knew his father, knew he wouldn’t see this experimentation as something that would benefit them in the long run, but as an indirect disobedience to have even thought about coming close to magic in any form.

…

Arthur asked to be excused from the night’s festivities once it was appropriate to pretend a headache was ailing him to the point he needed to retire early.

Uther didn’t seem bothered, which wasn’t a very good sign. Normally, he disliked it when his son left early from such occasions, insisting on Arthur’s staying until he deemed it appropriate to leave. Tonight, he only gave a nod in Arthur’s direction as Arthur pushed back his chair and exited the room.

It was out in the hallway, standing barely a few steps outside the doors to the castle’s great hall, that Arthur realized he wasn’t alone; the servant in the shadows – Merlin , his mind sharply supplied, he was too tired to pretend he hadn’t memorized the name the moment he had heard it that afternoon – was standing barely a few feet away. He must've followed Arthur out.

Feeling lightheaded, probably the fault of the drink he'd been slowly ingesting and the lack of food he couldn’t stomach down, Arthur closed his eyes and caught the wall next to him to steady himself.

Merlin was a warm presence at his side at once, not touching but close enough to, and Arthur caught his eyes just in time to see the concern there, open and unguarded, yet another thing servants weren’t supposed to show. Arthur was too tired to pretend he didn’t feel steadier, safer, by it. For a moment, his choice of words puzzled him; safer? What did he need to feel safer about? Since when did he need to feel safer by someone’s presence or concern?

Something like vertigo swept over him and he closed his eyes tightly against it. What was he doing?

“Sire?” the gentle concerned voice reached through Arthur’s thoughts, like the first touch of warmth after being caught in a snowstorm all day. “Are you alright?”

Arthur almost scoffed. He wasn’t a child and servants didn’t get to use soft secretive tones with their masters. Either this Merlin was entirely daft or had some motive Arthur was too tired to decipher.

“I'm fine, Merlin ,” he snapped, regretting it almost immediately when Merlin flinched away from him at once, his eyes narrowing in annoyance and his lips pressing in a thin line as if to stop himself from snapping something back. Arthur wondered once again how Merlin ever survived serving nobility with his inability to maintain a neutral expression to save his life. Arthur wanted to ask, wanted to know what Merlin had stopped himself from snapping at Arthur.

“Show me to my rooms,” Arthur ended up ordering instead, barely holding back the insanity that was about to roll over his tongue. It was the fault of the drink that was all.

Merlin looked like he was about to strain a muscle with how hard he was trying not to roll his eyes, and the of course, sire that followed sounded a lot like of course, you arse that Arthur debated cuffing the back of Merlin’s head as he turned around and began walking in front of Arthur, leading the way and not looking back.

…

The sound of crash from the direction of the hearth pulled Arthur out of his thoughts.

He had been standing by the open window for a while, trying to make sense of the dark unfamiliar view he could barely make out from where he stood. It was a warm summer night and the breeze felt good on his overheated skin as he watched the tree branches in the distance moving with it.

When Arthur looked over, Merlin was standing by the hearth, a mess by his feet from where he dropped a basket he's been holding.

“Are you totally incapable of doing one thing properly?” Arthur snapped before he could stop himself.

Merlin looked up from the dropped basket and at least had the decency to look chastised at his clumsiness. He ducked his head slightly. “Sorry,” he said but Arthur could hear the “at least I’m not capable of snapping at everyone as if it's their fault I'm in a sour mood” breathed under his breath just the same.

Arthur gaped at Merlin’s turned back. He had the sudden urge to laugh or throw something at the back of Merlin’s head. It was one thing to end up with the worst servant in the five kingdoms, it was completely another to end up with the most insolent as well.

Did he think Arthur couldn’t hear him? Or see the way he was huffing and mumbling under his breath as he picked up Arthur’s clothes from where they were scattered on the floor?

Merlin must've seen the murderous look Arthur was sending his way as he stood up from where he turned to look at him. What Arthur hadn’t expected, however, was the defiant look he got back before Merlin had the sense to lower his eyes in the worst parody of obedience Arthur’s ever seen in his life.

“Is there anything else you need, sire?” Merlin’s question somehow came out so polite and so impertinent at the same time that Arthur genuinely had a hard time deciding if he should yell at him or laugh.

Apparently, Arthur’s brain had opted for the later because the sound of his chuckles filled the room, startling even himself. Merlin’s barely neutral expression betrayed his surprise, eyeing Arthur carefully like he was wondering if the prince’s lost his mind. Arthur was wondering the same thing.

“You can’t address me like that,” Arthur ended up saying when he couldn’t stop smiling.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed at him, in concern this time. “Like what?” he asked, his voice genuinely puzzled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, still smiling faintly, but not dignifying that with an answer. He went to the freshly made bed and sat, before he noticed Merlin standing there by the hearth still, fidgeting and shuffling his feet. Arthur couldn’t see his expression well from where he sat, but he was willing to bet it wasn’t that of anything resembling respect.

Oh yes, Arthur hadn’t dismissed him yet. He supposed even Merlin had the sense to wait for that.

“How long have you worked here?” Arthur asked.

There was a long pause where Merlin’s fidgeting stilled. “Not long,” he answered, voice careful.

Arthur fought the urge to throw something at him. “Define not long.”

“A week.”

I should've known, was Arthur’s first thought and he let out a soft chuckle at the idea of any person of nobility standing that level of servitude for any period of time. He didn’t know her then, was his next. He tried not to be weighed down further by the fact. Even if Merlin had worked here since he could walk, he couldn’t have known Ygraine. He looked younger than Arthur himself.

“They needed more servants for the arriving royal party,” came Merlin’s explanation when Arthur didn’t say anything.

“So you volunteered?” he didn’t know whether to put the emphasis on you or volunteered , but it came out more teasing than questioning anyway.

“I needed the work,” Merlin’s voice acquired the - by now - familiar annoyance once more. “Not all of us have the luxury of choice in the matter.”

Arthur pushed the sheets away and laid back on the cool pillows before he noticed he was smiling. Gods, he must be losing his mind. He rubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to sober up a little, but he didn’t feel drunk, just tired beyond belief. He turned to his side, watched Merlin fidget more in the moonlight that came from the window. He hadn’t noticed when Merlin had moved to blow out the few candles left lit in the room, but he must've, for now the room was fully cast in darkness and Merlin was almost an eerie figure standing by the unlit hearth, half illuminated by the moonlight, his raven hair shining like silver where the light hit it, and half concealed in darkness.

The breeze was gently moving the trees outside the open window when Arthur looked out of it for a moment.

“Like the Druids in the dungeons?’ Arthur asked the darkness outside, his voice losing all humor. “They were lured here with the promise of help and work, weren’t they?”

There was no answer from Merlin. Arthur waited a second before looking in his direction, he couldn’t see Merlin’s expression from where he was, but he could see his mouth hanging open. Arthur supposed he couldn’t blame him. The Prince of Camelot bordering on speaking treason. And yet, Arthur found himself not caring, but simply feeling lighter as the words left his mouth. His heart was far too weary and his mind was still a little foggy from the drink. What was the worst a servant whose word held no power could do anyway? Arthur was most likely to never see the man again.

The last thought that crossed Arthur’s mind loosened his tongue further. “They’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

No response from Merlin still and Arthur wasn’t expecting one. He closed his eyes and tried to chase away the images of a camp of similarly peaceful people who had done nothing to deserve a raid that imprisoned and killed and burned their homes down either, images of a young boy with a sword in his hand and desperate need to please his father, and images of a mother who would have felt ashamed to call him a son.

There was the sound of shuffling feet on the floor that came closer and closer until Arthur knew Merlin was standing by this bedside.

“She would've hated it,” Arthur murmured to his pillow.

A long pause. “Who?” Merlin asked softly, curious.

“My mother,” Arthur hesitated for a moment before half opening his eyes to look at Merlin’s dark figure, now fully cast in shadow, leaning over him as his hand was reaching for the sheets still pushed aside to pull them over Arthur, he supposed. “I never knew her, you know, but she wouldn’t have approved. I know she wouldn’t.”

Merlin gently pulled the sheets on top of Arthur at that and his voice was a lot closer when he spoke next. “You should sleep, my lord.” There it was again, the gentle secretive tone again, like he knew something Arthur didn’t.

Arthur was suddenly too tired, the weight of everything that happened that night finally pulling him into sleep and he didn’t feel like fighting it anymore.

“You can't tell me what to do, Merlin.”

A soft chuckle Arthur almost missed was Merlin’s response. Arthur remembered seeing stars twinkling in the dark before he closed his eyes and finally surrendered to unconsciousness.

…

Arthur woke up disoriented.

He knew the bed he was in wasn’t his, but also instinctively knew he wasn’t in danger. He needed a moment before the events of the night came back to him and he sat in the bed, blinking into the dark room.

His head was pounding and he groaned into his hands. 

He heard the warning bells next. They must be what woke him up. He was bursting out of his rooms with a sword in his hand before the guards, clearly headed to alert him, found him in the hallway.

Arthur was charging in the direction of the dungeons before the guard who informed him of what was happening finished his sentence, right in the opposite direction of all the commotion.

…

Arthur’s first thought was that he should've known.

The dungeons that were being used to hold the captive druids were deserted with no one around but a few guards checking the place once more.

These particular cells that the dungeons contained were separated from where other normal prisoners were usually held on the other side of the castle. They were dimly lit with a few torches that lined the hallway connecting the cells together and were at the moment very empty, every single one, each one’s metal door pulled off its hinges as if by some kind of force. M agic, if Arthur had to guess.

However it was when Arthur made his way to one of the cells nearest to him that he had to stop at the doorstep. He felt a shudder run down his spine where he stood as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

He swallowed hard. He was standing on the threshold of a torture chamber. There was no other way to describe it. Arthur was looking into an actual torture chamber.

The cell was dark, no source of light illuminating it except from the torches behind Arthur, which, he supposed, would be totally useless once the metal door was closed, but that was the least disturbing thing about it. Arthur walked in further and approached the shackles he saw hanging from the ceiling, the robes and the torture machines on the ground that have been definitely not being used to experiment on anyone but most probably into torturing them into cooperation. 

Arthur felt like he was going to be sick. He was out of the cursed dungeon once he could get his legs to work.

In a moment of sudden clarity, Arthur knew exactly what he needed to do. He gripped his sword tighter in his hand as he headed to the only logical place his mind could think of. This castle might not be Camelot’s, but Arthur studied the design of similar ones before, he knew every in and out of a castle of such design, the problem resided in having keys for such ins and outs.

With magic at one’s disposal, Arthur supposed they didn’t really need them, did they. 

…

He saw Merlin first.

Arthur didn’t know why he wasn’t too surprised, but seeing Merlin at the end of the dark dungeon with about thirty druids at his back, heading in the opposite direction of where he needed to lead them to escape, didn’t surprise him one bit. He should've known the most useless servant he's ever seen wasn’t really just a servant. Arthur didn’t know if he felt stupid or relieved, he opted for the later when he came closer to where Merlin stood with a ball of light floating near his open palm. That made Arthur trip on his own feet.

Merlin was the first to notice him. He turned around and his eyes, instantly widened in surprise when he recognized Arthur standing frozen a couple of feet away.

“You have magic,” Arthur said, not helping the awe in his voice as the ball of light over Merlin’s palm moved to hover between them. For some reason, he wasn’t scared that it, or Merlin for the matter, would hurt him. 

“How did you find us?” Merlin asked, purely curious, not having the decency to show the least bit of fear or anger in his voice, as if he wasn’t the one attempting to escape with thirty prisoners with every guard and soldier in the castle searching every corner for them.

“I see your inability to do anything probably wasn’t an act,” Arthur interrupted him, forcing his voice to remain calm. “That’s the wrong way to go. You're leading them to the dungeons on the other side of the castle.” He pointed behind Merlin.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed at Arthur and he raised a firm hand between them when Arthur attempted to move closer. “Stay back,” Merlin commanded, his voice dangerous.

Arthur felt a chill at the warning in Merlin’s voice. “I want to help,” he said and sheathed his sword, raising his hands in the air in surrender, mimicking Merlin’s. “I know the way out. I can lead you there.”

Merlin was silent for a long moment, his face giving nothing away, but Arthur could see that he was thinking about it, could sense the moment Merlin was starting to lower his hand. That was, at least, until someone from the shadows stepped forward between where Merlin and Arthur stood.

Merlin’s eyes never left Arthur’s as who turned out to be a young woman spoke, “You’re the bloody Prince of Camelot! Why would you help us?” she all but shouted at Arthur.

“Because I'm your best chance at getting out of here alive,” Arthur replied calmly. “The fire you started in the kitchens will only distract them for so long,” he said to Merlin, whose eyes widened as if he thought Arthur wouldn’t catch on his basic escape maneuver. “They already know you broke out. If I meant you harm, you'd all have been captured by now.”

“You could be luring us into a trap—”

“We don’t have time for this, Kara.” it was Merlin who interrupted the girl, Kara , still looking in Arthur’s direction, his eyes measuring him up, as he said, “we need his help.”

Kara fell silent and Arthur nodded in Merlin’s direction, acknowledging his trust. He glanced pointedly at Merlin’s hand until the latter rolled his eyes and pushed his ball of light in front of Arthur so he could see where they were going. Arthur nodded to him and began to lead the way, Merlin falling into step beside him, and so he could hear it perfectly when Merlin hissed to Kara, “I promise explaining this to his father will be the last of his problems if this is a trap.” in a voice that promised hell to be paid if any of this went wrong.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well, at least you have a plan,” he mumbled so only Merlin could hear.

Merlin gave Arthur’s shoulder a subtle push as he hurried ahead.

It was ten feet away from the exit Arthur was leading them to, and after almost having ushered everyone out except a few, that Merlin lifted his hand at Arthur to stop. Arthur’s eye caught the movement and he looked back at where Merlin stood a few feet away from them, his eyes closed and his head half turned back as if hearing something no one else could.

“What are you doing—” Arthur hissed and then swore under his breath when he could hear it too, the shouts . 

Guards were near and they had caught someone.

They were all doomed if they stood there and waited, or worse, tried to turn back.

“Mark,” Merlin said in realization and as if on cue was turning to walk back.

Arthur pushed the ball of light, which Merlin had earlier deemed safe to touch, away into the darkness beyond the gate he had been standing by and charged after Merlin without a second thought. Everyone was almost out except them anyway and he’d be damned if he let Merlin ruin this by getting himself caught. 

It took a moment, but Arthur finally caught up to Merlin. He had to practically throw himself over him to manage to hold him just in time before he stepped into the light and exposed them all. He held Merlin firmly against him, his hand flying to Merlin’s mouth, silencing him as they looked out into the light, barely hidden and watching a couple of guards cornering who must've been Mark in a corner of the dungeon ahead, demanding he let them know of where the other prisoners had gone.

Arthur could practically feel the moment Merlin was going to cast some kind of magical spell before the words left his lips.

“Merlin, don’t be an idiot . There are definitely more nearby, if you draw attention we won’t be able to take them all by ourselves,” Arthur hissed into Merlin’s ear, watching with him as the guards walked Mark further into the corner. Merlin’s response was to thrash more violently against Arthur’s grip on him, Arthur held on to him harder. 

“One is less than many,” Arthur whispered. The sentence had been something that had been drilled into Arthur’s brain since he was a boy who had been being taught to hold a real sword for the first time, being taught how to use it to kill. One is less than many. One life lost is better than a thousand lost. It was the only comfort he could offer to the man stilling in his arms in defeat, mirroring the Druid who attempted to fight his captures back and ended up with a sword planted in his chest, stilling on the ground, feet away from where Arthur and Merlin watched.

Arthur felt Merlin tense under his hands before he stilled once more. He gave the guards moving away from the body a few more minutes’ head start before he released Merlin from his grip.

Merlin stood frozen for a moment too long, his back to Arthur and staring at the body laid a few feet away from them. For a moment Arthur debated physically pulling him away so they could move. He watched Merlin draw his shoulders back and turn around towards Arthur, his eyes red but his stance and expression the picture of resilience. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand before he drew a breath and looked Arthur in the eye.

“We need to get to the others,” Merlin said, voice hoarse, but chilling in its stillness, so cold and practical after what transpired only a moment ago. He was walking around from Arthur before he finished his sentence.

Arthur stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Someone needs to drive the guards the other way.”

Merlin needed a moment to catch on, shaking his head. “No, if they catch you—”

“They won’t be able to do anything to me,” Arthur tried for a small smile saying that, but knew he was failing, so he clenched his jaw instead against the lump that formed in the back of his throat. It felt ridiculous, getting emotional over saying goodbye to someone he hardly knew. “I can hold them back until you're a safe distance away.”

Merlin’s eyes held entire paragraphs of arguments in them, but was nevertheless silenced from voicing them by sounds of marching feet nearing them. The guards must’ve been back. It wouldn’t be long before they were found out if they stood where they were any longer.

Arthur took a deep breath and turned from where he could see the shadows of guards on the wall nearing them. Before he could think himself out of it, he gave Merlin a hard push with his hand to Merlin's chest back into the darkness. Merlin staggered, but still hesitated. 

“Go!” Arthur barked just when the voices neared them. Something in his face must’ve had Merlin’s brain catch on because he moved at last.

The last thing Arthur saw before turning around was Merlin’s eyes looking back at him one last time as the dark engulfed him.

…

The gardens looked like they were made out of marble under the moonlight. Arthur breathed in the cool breeze that hugged him once he stepped into them.

The feast was still going strong. Uther was busy, listening to Agravaine’s promises of finding whoever was responsible for the prisoners breaking out and sending them to Camelot once they were captured. No one noticed Arthur slipping out, chasing some quiet from the festivities inside.

They were due to leave the next day. Uther was yet to inform his son with his plans for Agravaine. Arthur had no doubt they were coming, his uncle hadn’t only meddled with magic, but had let his captured sorcerers escape his grasp as well. If Uther was ever to forgive the first, he certainly wasn’t going to forget the second.

Arthur took a deep breath at his thoughts. He would deal with that when it was time to do it. It was a dangerous game he was playing, especially after what he’d done the night before. He should enjoy small victories where he could find them.

The sight of Merlin’s eyes gleaming with magic flashed before his eyes at his last thought. How could he have missed it? Merlin’s magic had been right there before him the entire night and yet, it slipped him completely. Merlin was good at hiding like that, perished in darkness until one thought he belonged there, until you saw him, then you couldn't forget him.

Arthur tried not to sulk over the fact that he hadn’t seen Merlin since he pushed him away into the darkness beyond the castle. He had informed the castle steward that he had sacked him, to avoid any suspicion Merlin’s absence might arise, and hadn’t heard from the man himself since he had nodded at Arthur as he slipped into the dark, eyes full of stars as he magicked the gate closed after they smuggled the prisoners out. 

Arthur ventured out further into the balcony overlooking the garden upon his last thoughts, trying to chase away the idea that he would never see Merlin again, never get to see his eyes full of defiance or stars ever again, when he spotted the lonesome figure standing a few feet away from him in the shadows.

Out there, by the stone ledge overlooking the garden, and against all logic, stood Merlin with his back to the party inside. Arthur couldn’t see his face, but he was sure it was him. He wouldn’t mistake that mess of raven hair and tall narrow shoulders on anyone else.

Arthur held his breath and moved closer, feeling as if he was approaching a spirit that would vanish the moment he blinked or breathed or neared him.

“Here to turn me in, your highness?”

Arthur startled at the question. Spirits and apparitions didn’t speak, did they? That was Merlin, Arthur would know that voice in death by now. Merlin wasn’t even looking in his direction, his back to Arthur and his eyes trained on something far away in front of him, although Arthur doubted he could see anything through the darkness.

Arthur came closer until he was inches away from Merlin’s turned back, his hands clenched into fists behind his own. It was the only thing he could do not to reach over and touch. He lent his back on the stone ledge to Merlin’s right, separating them from the garden, and grabbed the stone railing to find something to busy his hands with.

Merlin took a moment longer before he turned his head to look at Arthur, smiling secretively. Arthur watched the shadows play on Merlin’s face, casting half in darkness and half in light, making the striking blue of his eyes shine sharper, before he dared to speak.

“I thought you'd be long gone by now,” Arthur said softly.

“I still have a job to do,” Merlin smirked and something flickered in his eyes. “Or at least I thought I did, until I was informed that I have been sacked .”

Arthur snorted. “Who would've thought you would with your reputation as the most competent servant in the five kingdoms.” He heard Merlin snort in response. He hesitated for a moment, looking down at Merlin’s hand on the cold stone between them as he whispered, “you should've left, Merlin.”

“I couldn’t,” Merlin’s eyes lowered when he answered in a similarity soft whisper in the dark. “Not yet.”

“Merlin—” Arthur started but Merlin stopped him.

“How did you know I wasn’t going to hurt you?” 

Arthur was caught off guard for a moment. He blinked, his mind going back to the events of the night before, of how every instinct in his body had told him he could trust Merlin, how he knew he had to help those people who were unfairly imprisoned escape, whatever the cost. 

“You wouldn’t have.”

Merlin smirked before he looked up at Arthur through his lashes, all mischievous. “I could’ve,” he countered with a raised eyebrow. They both knew he was right.

Arthur nodded. “If you had wanted me harm, you would’ve had plenty of time to do it earlier that night, but you didn’t.” Arthur was silent for a breath, “how did you know I wouldn’t turn you in?”

Merlin smiled to the ground. “You wouldn’t have.”

“I could’ve.” Arthur repeated Merlin’s words from earlier at him. 

Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes for a moment, and Arthur was reminded of how Merlin had looked at him all secretive that night outside the castle’s great hall, centuries ago. “Not you. Not after what you’ve told me.” 

Arthur wanted to argue, was taking a breath to do so, but thought better not to dwell on things that didn't change anything when Merlin dropped his eyes from his, looked away into the dark garden once more. 

Merlin shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake his own thoughts. “What happened last night; you helped us. If your father finds out—”

Arthur couldn’t resist letting his hand reach over and trail his fingers softly over the back of Merlin’s hand, still on the cold stone between them, he could feel the shudder going through Merlin’s body at the touch.

“He won’t,” Arthur answered with finality, lifting his eyes from where they had been fixed on Merlin’s hand. The worry in Merlin’s eyes pushed the breath out of his chest in one strong wave until Arthur was entirely breathless by it. He knew he hadn’t imagined that from the other night. Merlin was worried about him and for the life of him, Arthur couldn’t figure out what he had done to deserve it.

Merlin still looked like he wanted to argue.

“Do you dance?” Arthur asked, both as an attempt to stop Merlin’s protests from coming, and because touching Merlin’s hand felt not nearly enough to how close he wanted to be to him at that moment.

That took Merlin aback. “Dance?” he asked, like Arthur just suggested they should take part in some foreign ritual of human sacrifice.

“Dancing. Moving to music. Are you honestly that daft you don’t know what dancing is?”

“I know what dancing is, you arse, I just—”

“Very good, Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, intentionally letting his condescending tone become more apparent, feeling delighted at how the concern in Merlin’s eyes turned to annoyance. “Now that we’ve established that, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Dance.”

Merlin scoffed.

“Is that a yes?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I knew you were really that daft.”

Merlin gaped at him. “Are you really trying to insult me into dancing with you?

“Depends,” Arthur shrugged. “Is it working?”

Merlin turned his head away, to hide a smile Arthur caught anyway. “You princes think too highly of yourselves.” He spoke that to the garden, but Arthur could hear the smile in his voice.

“Got a lot of princes asking you to dance then?”

Merlin turned to Arthur at that, his eyes wide with disbelief, openly grinning now. Arthur’s heart fluttered in his chest stupidly. “No, just the one and he's being a bit of a prat about it.”

Arthur grinned. There was something really wrong with the delight he found in Merlin’s insults. “Dance with me, Merlin.”

Merlin was still chuckling softly as Arthur picked up his hand from where it laid between them on the stone railing. When Merlin didn’t protest, Arthur stepped into Merlin’s space and waited until Merlin turned to face him to move closer still, pulling Merlin closer too. 

Merlin who was now not meeting Arthur’s eyes but looking at his feet. He stepped on Arthur’s foot before Arthur realized why.

“It’s been a while since I last danced with someone,” Merlin said, voice challenging Arthur to say anything about it. The lovely flush coloring his cheeks, however, totally betrayed the confidence he was trying to project.

Arthur only smiled back, too afraid to open his mouth lest all the ridiculous fondness he was feeling would pour out, so he waited until Merlin looked up at him, his eyes childlike in their wonder at whatever he was seeing in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur pondered how much Merlin could see, from the way his eyes softened, Arthur suspected he bared all the fondness he felt towards a man who could control the entire world with a thought but would still flush at not being able to dance well.

Arthur was leaning halfway towards Merlin before the latter had met him halfway and kissed him. It was soft and gentle. Merlin kisses him like Arthur was something fragile and precious. It took Arthur a moment to realize he was shivering with it, like he's never been kissed before. It was absurd, how much something as simple as a kiss from someone he knew for less than two days could affect him so.

“Come to Camelot with me,” the sentence fell out of Arthur’s mouth as a whispered wish against Merlin’s lips before he could move away or open his eyes.

Merlin’s chuckle was a soft breath against Arthur’s lips. “You princes do think a lot of yourselves,” he said when he was far enough to look Arthur in the eye.

Arthur smiled, holding Merlin tightly against him. “No, not a prince, just me, Arthur, asking you, Merlin, to come to Camelot with me.”

Merlin’s eyes widened like he just realized Arthur was being serious. “And do what?”

“You could be with me,” the answer came out a lot more honest than Arthur had intended, but he didn’t care for how desperate he sounded. He wanted Merlin to come with him, wanted to get to know him. If he didn’t try, he knew it would be the mistake of his life and he was done having no hand in those happening to him.

Merlin didn’t mock his answer, instead genuine affection shined in his eyes. “I have responsibilities, Arthur,” he said softly. “People who count on me. I can't just drop it all and leave with you because I—” Merlin stopped and let out a barely there sigh, shaking his head at what he was going to say and looking down from Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur swallowed. “Because you what, Merlin?” his voice came out tight and hopeful. He wanted to wait for Merlin to say it on his own, but he needed to know.

Merlin sighed softly and brought his eyes back to meet Arthur’s. “Why do you want me to come with you anyway? You hardly know me.”

“I want to know you, if you let me.”

Merlin’s eyes searched Arthur’s for a moment as the last few notes from the music drifted to where they were still holding each other and another began. Arthur could hardly hold back his smile at seeing the understanding in Merlin’s eyes, except now engulfed in the genuine warmth that was just Merlin.

Merlin smirked. “I can't believe I'm letting a handsome prince charm me away like a damsel in distress.”

Arthur laughed, not even Merlin’s attempt at changing the subject taking away the happiness rising in his chest. “While being able to control things with a thought is impressive, walking in a straight line is still a feat you yet need to conquer and I'm only volunteering some help in that department.”

“How? By being the biggest royal prat in the five kingdoms?”

Arthur smirked. “I thought I was a handsome prince?”

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Arthur," Merlin sighed, but it didn't feel like he was taking offence, more like he was halfheartedly arguing. It was the first time Arthur heard his name from Merlin's lips. It was the most delightful way Arthur's ever heard his name being spoken to him. Merlin's smile grew grim as he stared at something over Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s not that easy, Arthur.” His voice grew serious. “They execute sorcerers in Camelot.”

“Not when I’m King,” Arthur’s answer didn’t only surprise him with its readiness, but also Merlin judging by the way his eyes snapped back in surprise to Arthur’s, they softened at whatever he saw in there. “Then I look forward to that, but until then—”

“Until then you can be with me,” Arthur interrupted his voice firm in its conviction. “We can help each other. You can teach me about your people, about how magic can be used for good. You can help me understand. We can bring peace back, together .”

The last of Merlin’s anxiousness melted at that. It was frightening how strongly Arthur felt about this, about Merlin, in such a short time, about how he could read him so openly.                        

“You really are serious about this,” Merlin said thoughtfully, then his cheeks reddened a bit before he added. “About magic, I mean, with all your father’s ideas about it,” Merlin wrinkled his nose in disgust at the words. “You still want to change things.”

“I do,” Arthur answered, knowing it was truth. “Magic can be used as a weapon just like any other and in order to protect my people from it, I need to understand it to know how to wield it, how to stop it, if needed.”

“So that’s it? You only wish to know how to control it so you can protect your people?” Merlin asked in a small voice, honestly curious.

“Things can't stay the way they are, Merlin. Innocent people being murdered for being born the way they are. Things have to change, we can change them.” He was silent for a moment, letting his words hang in the air between them for a moment. For the first time in his life, Arthur felt the weight of the crown he was yet to wear on his head. He had never been sure about anything in his life like he was this. “I want things to change, Merlin and I want you by my side as I do it, is that too hard to believe?”

“So you do have an ulterior motive, your highness.” Merlin smirked with a crocked brow, but it wasn’t a no either, so Arthur smiled just the same.

“Not saying I don’t,” he admitted.

Merlin looked away for a moment. “I was supposed to come to Camelot, you know, a long time ago,”  he sighed.

“You were?”

“Yes,” another sigh and Merlin’s eyes were back to his, still far away, reminiscing. “Years ago, my mother wanted me to go live with an old friend, but things got complicated and I couldn’t. I found the druids instead, they helped me understand myself and who I am.”

Arthur was silent, unsure of what Merlin was trying to say.

“I want to try,” Merlin finally said. “I want to help.”

The words seemed meaningless for a long moment before Arthur understood them.

“You'll come with me?” he couldn’t help the way his voice had risen in question at the end of that.

“Yes,” Merlin answered, his voice sure.

Arthur knew that whatever they had just agreed to being to each other hardly changed anything yet. He knew there was so much wrong that needed to be righted, too many horrors he couldn’t hope to erase, but having Merlin agreeing to it, not only seeing the peace Arthur was hoping to bring about, but also believing it, believing in Arthur, made Arthur believe he could turn back time, shape entire kingdoms if he wished, only with Merlin at his side.

Chapter Text

“Come to Camelot with me,” the sentence fell out of Arthur’s mouth as a whispered wish against Merlin’s lips before he could move away or open his eyes.

Merlin’s chuckle was a soft breath against Arthur’s lips. “You princes do think a lot of yourselves,” he said when he was far enough to look Arthur in the eye.

Arthur smiled, holding Merlin tightly against him. “No, not a prince, just me, Arthur, asking you, Merlin, to come to Camelot with me.”

Merlin’s eyes widened like he just realized Arthur was being serious. “And do what?”

“You could be with me." The answer came out a lot more honest than Arthur had intended, but he didn’t care for how desperate he sounded. He wanted Merlin to come with him, wanted to get to know him. If he didn’t try, he knew it would be the mistake of his life and he was done having no hand in those happening to him.

Merlin didn’t mock his answer, instead genuine affection shined in his eyes. “I have responsibilities, Arthur,” he said softly. “People who count on me. I can't just drop it all and leave with you because I—” Merlin stopped and let out a barely there sigh, shaking his head at what he was going to say and looking down from Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur swallowed. “Because you what, Merlin?” his voice came out tight and hopeful. He wanted to wait for Merlin to say it on his own, but he needed to know.

Merlin sighed softly and brought his eyes back to meet Arthur’s. “Why do you want me to come with you anyway? You hardly know me.”

“I want to know you, if you let me.”

Merlin’s eyes searched Arthur’s for a moment as the last few notes from the music drifted to where they were still holding each other and another began. Arthur could hardly hold back his smile at seeing the understanding in Merlin’s eyes, except now engulfed in the genuine warmth that was just Merlin.

Merlin smirked. “I can't believe I'm letting a handsome prince charm me away like a damsel in distress.”

Arthur laughed, not even Merlin’s attempt at changing the subject taking away the happiness rising in his chest. “While being able to control things with a thought is impressive, walking in a straight line is still a feat you yet need to conquer and I'm only volunteering some help in that department.”

“How? By being the biggest royal prat in the five kingdoms?”

Arthur smirked. “I thought I was a handsome prince?”

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Arthur," Merlin sighed, but it didn't feel like he was taking offence, more like he was halfheartedly arguing. It was the first time Arthur heard his name from Merlin's lips. It was the most delightful way Arthur's ever heard his name being spoken to him. Merlin's smile grew grim as he stared at something over Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s not that easy, Arthur.” His voice grew serious. “They execute sorcerers in Camelot.”

“Not when I’m King,” Arthur’s answer didn’t only surprise him with its readiness, but also Merlin judging by the way his eyes snapped back in surprise to Arthur’s, they softened at whatever he saw in there. “Then I look forward to that, but until then—”

“Until then you can be with me,” Arthur interrupted his voice firm in its conviction. “We can help each other. You can teach me about your people, about how magic can be used for good. You can help me understand. We can bring peace back, together .”

The last of Merlin’s anxiousness melted at that. It was frightening how strongly Arthur felt about this, about Merlin, in such a short time, about how he could read him so openly.                        

“You really are serious about this,” Merlin said thoughtfully, then his cheeks reddened a bit before he added. “About magic, I mean, with all your father’s ideas about it,” Merlin wrinkled his nose in disgust at the words. “You still want to change things.”

“I do,” Arthur answered, knowing it was truth. “Magic can be used as a weapon just like any other and in order to protect my people from it, I need to understand it to know how to wield it, how to stop it, if needed.”

“So that’s it? You only wish to know how to control it so you can protect your people?” Merlin asked in a small voice, honestly curious.

“Things can't stay the way they are, Merlin. Innocent people being murdered for being born the way they are. Things have to change, we can change them.” He was silent for a moment, letting his words hang in the air between them for a moment. For the first time in his life, Arthur felt the weight of the crown he was yet to wear on his head. He had never been sure about anything in his life like he was this. “I want things to change, Merlin and I want you by my side as I do it, is that too hard to believe?”

“So you do have an ulterior motive, your highness.” Merlin smirked with a crocked brow, but it wasn’t a no either, so Arthur smiled just the same.

“Not saying I don’t,” he admitted.

Merlin looked away for a moment. “I want to try, but,” he paused and his lips thinned until his brilliant smile was a ghost of itself, his eyes turning too serious. “I won’t be able to stand aside and watch my kin get killed for existing, Arthur. I won’t be able to take it.”

The words seemed to mean nothing for a long moment before Arthur’s brain managed to absorb them. They hung in the air for a moment, coming down swiftly to crush Arthur’s heart into dust before he registered it. He hung his head, tried not to look Merlin in the eye.

“I'll come to you,” Merlin promised, forcing Arthur to look back at him. There were tears sparkling in his eyes as he spoke. “When you're King, when you bring justice to this land, as I know you will, I'll be there, helping you with everything I can, everything I am.”

Arthur nodded, afraid he’d say something desperate like beg Merlin to reconsider. He held on to the warm spark of hope Merlin’s words ignited in his chest, that someday, they would meet again, someday he would right this wrong properly like he intended, and that someday Merlin would be his side. But it did nothing to alleviate the way the pieces of his shattered heart moved against each other every time he tried to take a breath, stinging and bringing tears to his eyes, at what he was letting go of, what could’ve been. Someday, Merlin would be by his side. He could hold on for a little longer until that day. He had spent his entire life until that point unsure, questioning everything around him, now that that veil of confusion had been lifted, he couldn't give in. His world was in focus for the first time in his life and he needed to hold on to that. For now, he had Merlin in his arms for a just a few moments longer and he knew what he needed to do, he could hold on to that to get him through forever if he must.