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Merlin sighed, picking at his shirt as he sat at the council table. He was bored and tired and nervous. It was really incredible how he could feel so many different things at once. The sorcerer sighed again. He wasn’t ready for the meeting. He’d just barely finished reviewing and adding finishing touches to the new law he and Arthur had been in the process of making.
He wasn’t ready for the council to be shown it…
He wondered if it was obvious that he was about ready to bolt for the door.
“Merlin.”
The warlock stopped fiddling with the hem of his shirt and looked up from the table he sat at. The council meeting was about to begin, they were just waiting for the last members to file into the room. Merlin was sure Arthur was a second away from starting without them. Not that he minded. Less people to present the law draft to…
“Merlin!” His shoulders jumped slightly as he was yanked out of his train of thought by a second call of his name. His eyes moved to look at Arthur to his right, and he tilted his head.
“What, Arthur?” He sighed. The King was frowning in bemusement as he stared at Merlin’s arm—the side of his shoulder specifically.
“Why’ve you got flowers on your shirt?”
Merlin faltered, a light heat rising to his cheeks as he realized what Arthur was referring to. He hadn’t realized he’d grabbed that shirt! He had been so tired…
“I, ah,” he cleared his throat before looking away, trying to appear nonchalant. “I like flowers.”
He couldn’t believe he’d not noticed.
There were forget-me-nots around both wrists! How had he overlooked that?! He just hoped Arthur left the subject be… Oh, how embarrassing. Of all tunics he could have chosen in his half-asleep haze…
“How did they get there?” Ah, he should know better than to have hope.
“What?” Merlin looked to him, frowning at his question.
Arthur just rolled his eyes [quite dramatically, if Merlin said so himself]. “The flowers. How did they get there? They didn’t just appear,” he stated as if Merlin didn’t already know that, “so who did it? It’s excellent work. I have a cloak I’ve been wanting a crest embroidered into a new cloak for some time now, anyhow, perhaps I could commission the woman who did your shirt.”
Merlin blinked a few times, startled by the turn of the conversation. Arthur thought his embroidery was excellent work… Good enough to commission him to do his crest into a cloak… The thought sent a giddy feeling rushing through him, which he quickly shoved down. No. No, Arthur couldn’t know.
He would make fun of him for it, say it’s girlish… He would mean it in good fun, but Merlin needed this one thing to go untouched by Arthur’s teasing. He needed this one thing. It really nearly kept him sane. If Arthur took to teasing him for it, even if just in good fun… It would lose its safety, it’s comfort…
Merlin began to fiddle with the hem of his tunic again. “Oh, no, I don’t think that’d be possible,” he told him, looking to the doors of the council room. “I’m sure they’d be very happy to hear you think their work to be excellent, though.”
He watched as the doors opened and the last of the councilmembers entered the room. Relief flooded him, knowing the conversation would go unfinished because the meeting needed to start. He knew Arthur had realized this as well, when he let out a sigh and rose to his feet to call the meeting open.
He just hoped Arthur would forget about the conversation, the flowers on his sleeve.
He didn’t forget.
It was evening, two days later, when Merlin had just barely enough time to shove his shirt and needle and thread under the duvet piled at the foot of his bed before Arthur saw it as he barged into his room without care. Merlin was beginning to understand why Arthur got so annoyed when he didn’t knock.
He shot Arthur a glare as the king walked in and over to his bed, sitting on the edge without invitation. He was not in the mood for this. He missed his mother, he was stressed, and he was tired. He just wanted to embroider nonsense into his white sleeping tunic and go to bed. He did not want to deal with whatever issue Arthur was bring to him, or whatever nonsensical request he had. As much as he loved him, he needed rest.
“So,” Arthur began, careless of the glare Merlin was giving him. Was he not being intimidating enough? Should he glare harder? Glaring took too much energy. Merlin sighed and let the nasty look fall from his face when he just kept talking. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about the person who sewed the flowers into your shirt.”
He tensed. “What about them?”
“That. That exactly.” Arthur nodded at him, looking curious. “You refer to the person as them, rather than she. Which, is beginning to lead me to believe… The person who did the sewing is a man?”
Merlin looked away, not liking that Arthur had noticed that little detail in his speech. He stayed silent, though, unwilling to incriminate himself as person in question.
“And that is, perhaps, why he cannot take my commission?” Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side just barely. “Because he is a man… And perhaps… Doesn’t wish for his King to know of his work, or hobby, for some reason?”
The warlock began to wonder when Arthur grew so perceptive. Where did the obliviousness go? When did he learn how to read between the lines? What happened to the blindness?
“Maybe he’s…ashamed, of his work?”
“I’m not ashamed!” Merlin snapped back before the words caught up to him. His stomach lurched as he realized what he’d just admitted, and noticed the wide grin on Arthur’s face. He’d known. He knew and he… “You tricked me!”
Arthur just shrugged, looking much too satisfied with himself. Merlin wanted to slap him just a little.
“You weren’t going to tell me. I adapted.”
“I didn’t want you to know!”
“Why not?” Arthur pressed, “Why did you not want to tell me? I know you’re not ashamed, Merlin, but why hide something so innocent?”
“Because…” Merlin faltered, shifting where he sat against his pillows, eyes traveling to the pile of blanket that hid his current work. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. “Because I knew you’d tease me for it and this is… it’s not just some new joke for you. It’s how… It’s how I deal with things.”
The bed moved beneath him as Arthur moved up to sit against the pillows beside him. “I tease you about a lot,” he admitted, “you’re very…tease-able. Really, it’s almost unbelievable how easy you are to tease. I mean, seriously, you are just—”
“Your point?” Merlin interrupted with a huff. Arthur cleared his throat.
“Right, my point,” he muttered, before letting out a breath. “My point is—I tease you about a lot, as you do me, but I wouldn’t—I don’t—Merlin, I won’t. I mean, first of all, I wasn’t lying when I said the work was excellent. And, I’d never want to… I’d never want to genuinely upset you. I promise, I will never make this into a joke.”
Merlin glanced at him, still wary. He sounded, and looked, so serious, though… He couldn’t help but believe him.
“… Thank you,” he finally said, his voice quiet. His eyes flicked back to his works hiding space, and he cleared his throat. “Well, if you don’t mind then… I’m just going to…”
He nodded to the duvet, before pushing it back to reveal his materials. It was almost exciting, to share this part of him with someone. To not hide it. To not feel like he had to hide it, for fear of it being turned into a joke point.
“Can I watch?”
The question took him by surprise. Merlin faltered in his movements as he reached forward to grab the materials. No one had watched him before, besides his mother when she was teaching him.
“I just want to see,” Arthur added after a moment of drawn-out silence. Hesitance.
Finally, Merlin nodded. Agreeing. Arthur let out a pleased him and inched closer to Merlin, their shoulders touching. Merlin couldn’t help but smile softly at the contact. He un-bunched the shirt and picked up his needle again. As his eyes scanned the fabric for where he had been working, he felt Arthur lean against him slightly before he suddenly pointed to a small piece on the chest under the neckline.
“Is that the… Pendragon crest?” He asked, “and a… a bird, next to it?”
Merlin felt his face heat as his eyes landed on the embroidery he was referring to. He cleared his throat. “It’s a, ah, it’s a merlin. And your…crest. Yes.”
“A merlin? You’re a Merlin,” Arthur muttered, before shaking his head, “why do you have my crest sewn into your shirt?”
“Well…” Merlin trailed off. He debated telling the truth about why he’d sewn the bird and Pendragon crest, and he debated lying. Though, he wondered if he’d get a chance like this again… An opportunity to just clear the air and be rid of secrets. Not to mention, the way Arthur stared at him so curiously, waiting for an answer… He couldn’t bring himself to lie.
“I sew things into clothing to deal with things I feel,” he explained softly, looking to and locking eyes with Arthur. “Sometimes I’m angry, and sewing intricate patterns requires patience and concentration, it helps calm me down. It is the same as when I am nervous… Sometimes I’m stressed, and I put the stress I’m feeling into my needlework. It is the same as when I’m… It’s the same when I need to express my affections for the man I love.”
He gave Arthur a pointed look as he said the last sentence.
Arthur stared at him silently, his eyes searching his face. Then, Merlin watched as the realization hit him, watched the recognition slowly creep onto his face. His eyes flicked to the crest and bird on Merlin’s shirt, then back to Merlin.
Merlin stayed still, not daring to move or look away. Not daring to ruin the moment, as Arthur finally began to understand.
“I—you… Me?” Arthur finally asked, almost looking surprised. “I thought I was a prat!”
The sorcerer snorted at this. He shook his head, finally averting his eyes. “You are a prat. One who happens to hold my heart.”
It felt easy to surprisingly easy to say. Though, a touch of anxiety began to creep up in him as Arthur just looked from the embroidery to Merlin and back again repeatedly. He began to wonder if he’d just ruined things between them.
Then, Merlin watched as Arthur visibly fought back a grin. He nudged Merlin in the shoulder, looking at him now rather than the tunic.
“I love you as well, Merlin,” he confessed. Merlin’s heart stuttered and his breath hitched. Oh, gods, he anticipated it and yet still, hearing it was just so…
“Great,” Merlin breathed, blinking a few times. Then, a wide grin broke out on his face slowly. “Great!”
“Great?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow, before chuckling softly. “Great… Does this mean I may court you, then?”
Merlin felt a burst of giddiness run through him at the question. Gods, he didn’t even think he could be this giddy! Yet, he was. Oh, he was so thrilled. Not only did Arthur like his embroidery, but he loved him! And he really wanted to court him!
“Only if your courtship involves gifting me nice materials for sewing,” he found himself speaking before he could filter himself. He didn’t bother apologizing like he normally would have, though, mostly for the amused look it put on Arthur’s face.
“Well,” he sighed, leaning back against Merlin’s pillows to get comfortable. “If that’s all it takes.”
“I want weekly trips to that one gorgeous clearing for picnics, as well,” Merlin added, grinning as he went back to looking for the piece he’d been working on before Arthur came in. He heard a snort from beside him.
“Don’t push it.”
If anyone noticed, a week later, when the Court Sorcerer and the King wandered the castle hand in hand, shirts embroidered with flowers at the hems and dragons and merlins on the upper corner of their chest respectively…
Then, they observed silently, exchanged coin to bet winners, and absolutely did not say a word to either man.
(Well, except for the knights, who made sure to express their relief at the sight.)