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“Arthur.”
“What now?”
“Well, you ungrateful prat, I was just about to point out that there’s a nice clearing, just over there. I’ll keep it to myself next time,” Merlin laughed. They’d been riding for hours, out on a standard patrol with the knights. Merlin suspected Arthur scheduled them far more often that was strictly necessary, but he didn’t mind. He liked the chance to spend time with his friends, he liked to spend time out in nature where his magic could recharge, and he loved to see the more relaxed Arthur that came back out when they were out of the main city.
Arthur, the clotpole, just rolled his eyes and signalled to the knights. Merlin assumed he was telling them to stop in the clearing. He didn’t actually know, seeing as the bloody hand signals were a waste of time and he had never been taught them, anyway.
“Good man, Merlin!” Gwaine called as he slowed his horse. The horse was a newer one, and Merlin hadn’t named it yet. It had become a tradition that he gave names to all of his friends’ horses, ever since Arthur found out he had been doing it secretly all along. He hadn’t meant to whisper the names out loud. It was embarrassing, for a bit, but Arthur seemed to find it ridiculously endearing.
That was another reason Merlin liked to get away. Arthur was much slightly free with his words when there were fewer ears around to listen in. It made sense, Merlin supposed. The official statement of their engagement hadn’t been made, yet. They wanted to wait a little longer, until magic was fully embedded into Camelot, to avoid the rumours of enchantment. It didn’t bother Merlin, the need to be discreet - he’d definitely had secrets that he found harder to stomach. But that evening was not an evening to regret time wasted, so there would be no dwelling on secrets spilled and upsets caused and new kings realising they had a lot to learn.
Instead, Merlin thought of how Arthur had felt terribly guilty that he couldn’t tell the kingdom of their love. His phrasing, not Merlin’s. He had announced that, the day after he proposed. Merlin thought he was being awfully dramatic, and told him so. His words were probably undermined by the way Merlin had no choice but to kiss the pout off his face, though. With a shrug, Merlin had suggested that they go to the druids and ask them for a secret handfasting - not in the place of the marriage Arthur longed for, but as a promise to themselves. Friends had come to watch - Gwen holding onto Lancelot’s hand happily, Gwaine making lewd comments throughout. Gaius even shed a tear. For all of Merlin’s surety that he didn’t need a ceremony to tell him what he knew already, he could admit that the day was one of his happiest.
“This’ll do, for the night,” Arthur said. Merlin turned his thoughts away from the past, and back to the horses. He gave Dandelion (who belonged to Elyan) one last nose rub, before heading off to go and find sticks for the fire.
“Need any help?” Lancelot called over. Merlin turned round with a smile.
“If you’re not busy,” he answered.
“Hardly. I think Percival’s about to skin a rabbit. I’d rather not watch,” Lancelot sighed, once he reached Merlin in the trees.
“Fair enough, that. Go on then sir knight, grab the driest logs you can and chuck ‘em back.”
They worked quietly, for a moment. Merlin paused, throwing his head up to the sky. He opened his magic up to the vibrations of the earth and shut his eyes, content.
“You alright?” Lancelot laughed.
“Mm. Everything feels so alive.”
Lancelot rolled his eyes and ruffled Merlin’s hair. “C’mon magic man, let’s get back. Make sure Gwaine hasn’t fallen into a trap.”
Merlin blinked, pulling his thoughts back to himself. He had started letting his walls down more often, once Arthur told him to.
“Always be you,” Arthur had said, once. He had found Merlin sitting against a tree in the early morning, as the birds started to wake up and sing their songs. Merlin had been absentmindedly teaching tricks to water in a puddle. He panicked, when Arthur turned the corner. As willingly as he accepted magic, Merlin knew that being comfortable seeing it was another thing entirely. But he had frowned when Merlin stopped. “Always be you,” he said. Merlin hadn’t stopped smiling for the rest of the week.
Lancelot led the way back to the clearing, which had been set up with furs and shelters in a ring. Merlin piled the logs high in the middle and held a hand out to start the fire. He flicked his eyes over to Arthur, and smirked to see Arthur was watching, blushing slightly, eyes wide.
Merlin went over to him, pulling a fur over the both of them and leaning back slightly against Arthur’s chest. It felt solid, calming. Like home.
“I love you,” Arthur whispered.
“Course you do,” Merlin nodded. “Same. Obviously.”
Gwaine was trying to teach Percival and Elyan some sort of tavern song on the other side of the fire. Elyan was joining in enthusiastically. Percival was definitely only even bothering because of how he felt for Gwaine.
“I got a letter,” Arthur burst out, quietly.
“Oh?” Merlin muttered, paying far more attention to the rowdy chorus.
“From Morgana.”
Merlin spun round in disbelief, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. “Shite. Really?”
“Yeah. She said… well. She said she’s heard about the ban being lifted. And that she’s. She’s sorry for lumping me in with Uther. Said she wants to come back for a visit, if I can forgive her.”
“Wow, Arthur. Was it definitely her?”
“Without a doubt,” Arthur said, and paused before carrying on sheepishly. “We used to have a secret code when we were young. She used it. So I knew it was real.”
Merlin nodded, slowly, processing.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It didn’t quite seem real until I had a chance to think about it.”
“Don’t be daft, love. I don’t blame you. This is big.”
Arthur shrugged, and neither of them spoke for a moment more. Lancelot had joined in with the singing by then, although he gestured for rescue when Merlin caught his eye. Merlin pouted in mock sympathy and turned back to Arthur.
“Do you? Forgive her, I mean?”
Arthur seemed to consider it. “Well, not yet. She did murder my father, and lots of innocent people, too. But I do believe she deserves another chance. And she wasn’t exactly wrong, you know? Father wasn’t the best of men. He was an even worse king. And I didgo along with it, a lot of the time. I did her wrong. I think that forgiveness will be a two way thing.”
Merlin frowned. “I did worse, Arthur. Sometimes, I think it might be my fault she left in the first place, you know? I knew she was getting magic. I knew she was scared, but I didn’t do anything. ‘S no wonder Morgouse got to her, really. Most supportive person she ever spoke to.” They’d spoken about Morgana before, never really sure when exactly everything went wrong, never fully agreeing on why.
“What would you do, if she came back?” Arthur asked.
Merlin shrugged. “Give her a chance.”
“Bullshit,” Arthur laughed. “There is no way you would let her out of your sights any time she even looked at me.”
“Fair,” Merlin conceded. “Still. I think you should ask Gwen if it’s ok with her, but if Gwen doesn’t mind, say she can come, I think. I miss her.”
“Gods, so do I.” Arthur agreed.
Leon looked up from where he had been polishing his sword. “Sorry. I know this is private. But I think anyone who knew her... before does too.”
Merlin watched Arthur’s face, watching as it flickered from fear to hope. That was all the sign he needed that it was going to work out okay.
“No more big talk, Princess!” Gwaine groaned. “Sing along - listen.”
Gwaine broke into his song again. Merlin swore it was getting cruder every time. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud when Gwaine got up from the log he sat on and pulled Leon into a dance.
Later that night, Merlin lay under thick furs, the Prat King of Camelot resting his head on Merlin’s stomach. He lay and listened to the occasional hoot of an owl and the fire cracking as it burned on happily - aided by his magic, of course. He was fairly sure he heard Percivial singing in his sleep, and Gwaine was tapping out a tune as he sat, taking his watch. He was surrounded by the people he had come to love as brothers, and he knew that back in Camelot, everyone was happy, too. Maybe this really was a golden age.He sighed in contentment, ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair.
The way Merlin saw it, destiny could do one.
Everything was going just fine.