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Arthur realized that there was so much between them that would never see the light of day, so many unspoken words and feelings that would die with them, if they had any say in it. He watched as Merlin helped him with his armor, and this was nice, this was familiar, this they had done before. Even if Merlin messed it up, like usual, it was a comfort to Arthur to have Merlin here with him, to prepare him for battle, physically and mentally.
Merlin wasn’t quite present, he kept looking outside, and it was easy enough for Arthur to guess what his friend was thinking about. He wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t nervous about what was nearly unfolding, and as he always was when a battle for life and death approached, he felt the healthy nerves in his belly that kept him focused, kept him on edge, kept him from doing rash things that might cost the kingdom her future king.
Merlin pulled on the strap of his armor and he apologized, muttering under his breath. Arthur was at once faced with the reality that while he had been trained for this since birth, had been taught how to wield a sword and fight like a true warrior, Merlin had grown up on the countryside, aiding his mother with tending to her pigs, perhaps help out on the fields, everything that was the stark opposite of how Arthur had been raised. Merlin knew how to defend himself, but it was mostly by diffusing tension and preventing himself from ever having to actually fight - Arthur had to admit, it was rather effective, if it wasn’t for most of Camelot’s enemies demanding bloodshed.
“It’s not like you to get nervous, is it, Merlin?” Arthur said, in an attempt to diffuse some of the tension that was in the air right now. He did need his friend, even if Merlin couldn’t quite help in the battle, he knew Merlin was often vital in their victory, even if the brunet wouldn’t see it like that.
“I’m not nervous,” Merlin countered, looking at Arthur in that determined way he sometimes managed to carry himself in, unlike the bumbling idiot he usually was.
“No?” Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised. He knew Merlin, and he knew when Merlin was nervous - this situation was not an exception, even if he had every reason to be nervous, and this would be one of the few moments where Arthur wouldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Of course, this was the only time when Merlin would try and put on a brave face, instead.
“Because I trust in your destiny.”
Wait. This was exactly not what Arthur had expected him to say, and he had no idea what Merlin meant anyway. Destiny? What was he talking about?
“Have you been on the cider?”
Merlin remained quiet for a bit, as he unsheathed Arthur’s sword from its place in the belt, and seemed to admire it like it was the most precious thing in the world.
“It is your fate to be the greatest king Camelot has ever known. Your victory today will be remembered, by every age, until the end of time.” Merlin’s voice was quiet yet strong, radiating a wisdom and courage that he didn’t normally show. He handed over Arthur’s sword, and then looked at him intently, like he had never done before. He had looked intently at Arthur, alright, but never like this. And before Arthur knew it, he was feeling how his heart was warming at the words, at the realization that Merlin felt this way about him, that Merlin had this kind of faith in him. He had felt things for Merlin that would never see the light of day, and yet, those feelings had never tried to escape as much as they did in that moment. “Just trust in yourself.”
The little nod that Merlin did, with that determined look on his face, nearly sent Arthur over the edge and into the realm of confessing things he shouldn’t. Nobody had ever said that Arthur. Nobody had ever had the blind faith in him that Merlin had, nobody had ever told him that he just had to have faith in himself, and that everything else would follow.
Nobody had ever told Arthur that he was a good person, not in this way. And suddenly, every atom in Arthur’s body was rising to the challenge, was trying to make everything known, every secret thought he had ever had about his manservant and his best friend - he was in love with Merlin - and it took everything within Arthur to stop the thoughts from tumbling off his tongue.
“There are times, Merlin,” Arthur started, not even knowing himself where this was going, “when you display a sort of… I don’t know what it is. I want to say…” I love you. Nobody ever loved me like you did. Please don’t leave me. “It’s not wisdom-”
Merlin looked at him and smiled faintly, a little mischievously, because they both knew that that was exactly what Merlin was - wise, beyond his years. Arthur had long ago stopped wondering where Merlin might have gotten that kind of wisdom from - he guessed that some people were just born with it.
Please, stay with me. Don’t ever lose your faith in me. Please love me, like you always have, and things will be alright.
“But, yes, that’s what it is.”
Arthur’s heart would have punched him if it was physically possible, but Arthur’s belly simply hurt with the effort that he had had to uphold to make sure he kept all of his private thoughts, well, private. It didn’t help one bit that Merlin’s smile spread across his face, and Arthur had to hide the feelings that he could no longer stop from surfacing by showering Merlin with insults instead.
“Don’t look so pleased, the rest of the time you’re a complete idiot.”
He put his sword in his belt and made to leave the room, decidedly not looking over his shoulder, because he didn’t trust what he would do if he remained standing in this room for much longer, with the heaviness of the upcoming battle hanging between them, and the possible confessions it might draw from either of them.
Arthur wanted to say it, all of it, but he knew he couldn’t. So he had to steel his resolve, and throw himself into this battle - if it was his last one, Merlin would never know about his feelings for him; and Arthur in his turn would never know that Merlin reciprocated every single feeling, in tenfold.