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Arthur limped back to his tent, leaning heavily on Merlin the entire way. Merlin, the damn weakling that he was, was huffing and puffing, complaining about Arthur under his breath (but definitely loud enough to be clearly audible to Arthur).
Arthur wasn’t sure why he continued to put up with the incompetant idiot. It was probably because having Merlin around was like having a personal jester around to perform for him 24/7. It certainly didn’t have anything to do with Merlin’s bright blue eyes, or his kind smile, or his sarcastic comments, or the way that his presence made Arthur feel warm and cared for. Definitely not.
But enough about Merlin. The more pressing issue was the intense pain radiating up his entire right arm. It was the biggest tournament of the year and as always, Arthur had been winning with barely a sweat—they didn’t call him the greatest swordsman in the country for nothing. It looked like his winning streak was going to come to a halting end due to this damn injury, though.
Arthur had had many injuries over the years and he knew a broken bone when he felt it. His opponent had gotten in a hit that had Arthur blocking it awkwardly. The combination of the weird alignment of his arm and the force of the strike had broken something important in his sword arm. He had ended up scraping out a victory in the match, but now that the adrenaline had worn off he was sorely hurting.
“The problem’s in your arm, not your damn leg,” Merlin grumbled. “I don’t know why you think it’s necessary for me to basically carry you bridal style back to your tent, you prat.”
“Because I’m the prince and I want you to,” Arthur shot back. “And watch your tongue… If one of the visiting nobles catches you talking to me like that I won’t stop you being thrown in the stocks.”
Merlin snorted. “At least I’d have a reprieve from Your Royal clotpole… and don’t act like you can last more than five minutes without me waiting on you hand and foot.”
“If that were true I’d have perished years ago due to your incompetence,” Arthur went to nudge Merlin playfully but hissed in pain when his shoulder made contact with Merlin’s.
Arthur went suddenly quiet as overwhelming dread filled his body. Merlin kept on shooting concerned looks at Arthur as they walked the rest of the way in relative silence.
Arthur broke the silence once they entered his tent, “I’ll never hear the end of this from my father…”
A look of unconcealed disdain crossed Merlin’s face. “He can’t blame you for a broken bone.”
Arthur slumped down into a chair and buried his head in his hands. “He will though… He’ll see me backing out of the tournament as a sign of weakness.”
Merlin put his hands on his hips, “Well, we’ve known your father is an ass for ages. Fuck him.”
“Careful, Merlin,” Arthur hissed. “That's a treasonous thing to say.” Arthur stared off into the distance before whispering, “But you’re not wrong…”
When Arthur looked up at Merlin he noticed he was looking contemplative and nervous. He was biting his lip hard enough that Arthur was afraid he might break the skin. Finally, Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.
“What if I knew a way to heal you enough to make it to the next round?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I’d welcome it. But it’s going to take more than a splint or a quick wrap to heal this, Merlin.”
“You have to promise me not to freak out if I help you,” Merlin responded, a desperate tone to his voice. Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Merlin look this distraught.
“What are you talking about, Merlin?”
“Swear it!” Merlin practically shouted.
Arthur raised his uninjured hand in exasperation. “Fine, I swear. Now if you actually have a plan, hurry up... I don’t have all day.”
Merlin took another deep breath, shooting one last nervous glance at Arthur, and stepped into Arthur’s personal space. Arthur could feel the heat coming off of Merlin’s body and he shivered.
Arthur was about to tell Merlin to get on with it again, when Merlin put his hand gently on Arthur’s forearm and the blue eyes that Arthur loved so much suddenly turned bright gold.
Arthur’s breath stuck in his throat and he stopped breathing completely as he felt a warm feeling wind its way up his entire arm up into his shoulder.
After a minute that seemed to go on for eternity, Merlin’s eyes returned to their natural color, but Arthur found that he still couldn’t look away.
Merlin smiled shakily. “Remember to breathe,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “I would hate to have gone through all that trouble just for you to pass out and hit your head.”
“... You have magic,” Arthur said dumbly after several seconds.
“I’ve only ever used it for you,” Merlin whispered as he nervously shifted from one foot to another, rocking in place.
Arthur felt a confusing rush of anger, wonder, and disbelief course through his body at Merlin’s revelation. As angry as he was, and he did feel betrayed by Merlin’s dishonesty for so long, he couldn’t find it within himself to take it out on Merlin.
Arthur finally took a deep breath. “Ok,” he said. “Thank you for healing me.”
Merlin blinked at him with growing hope visible in his eyes. “You’re taking this a lot better than I expected… did you hit your head during the tournament as well?”
Arthur locked eyes with Merlin once again. “I am angry,” he said. He saw a flash of fear on Merlin’s face. “And we’re going to talk about this later… but if you had wanted to hurt me you had plenty of chances over the years,” he concluded.
Merlin was now nodding along with his words vigorously. “Yes! Arthur, yes. I’ve only ever wanted to help you… And I’ve wanted to tell you so bad, but you have to understand how much I was scared of your father finding out.”
Arthur took in Merlin’s words with a growing feeling of nausea. “Oh god, Merlin… Why would you ever come to Camelot, you absolute birk! You could be killed!” Arthur grew silent. “You’ve watched me stand idly by and support the killings of magic users who hadn’t done anything wrong be burned at the stake. You must hate me…” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling at his hair in horror.
Merlin lunged to grab Arthur’s hands reassuringly. “Arthur I could never hate you… you have to know that.”
Arthur was struck by just how beautiful Merlin was. And how brave. Merlin had willingly stayed by his side, risking discovery for years, in an attempt to keep Arthur safe.
“I could never hate you either,” Arthur admitted. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make me want to hurt you… and that scares me…”
Merlin swallowed loudly, his mouth suddenly dry as he was overcome by emotion. Without thinking, he placed one of his hands along Arthur’s jawline, cradling his face. His eyes looked down at Arthur’s mouth as he licked his lips. He had liked Arthur for a long time, admired his body, but the dread of Arthur finding out about his magic had hung over Merlin’s head, keeping him from being able to love Arthur. That was gone now, and Merlin was entranced.
“Merlin,” Arthur whispered as he pulled Merlin closer to him. When Merlin looked up, he noticed that Arthur was also staring at his lips. Merlin was just starting to lean in when someone entered the tent.
“Arthur, if you’re going to compete you need to let the judges kn-” Gwaine cut himself off when he saw the position Merlin and Arthur were in. Grinning, he said, “Well I’m sorry for interrupting, but if you’re going to continue, you need to get back to the ring.”
Arthur cleared his throat, his face bright red. “Of course,” he said as he stood up, “I’ll be right out.”
Gwaine nodded and winked at the two of them as he exited the tent. Once he was sure Gwaine wasn’t coming back, Arthur turned back to Merlin. Psyching himself up, he finally grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and dragged him in for a bruising kiss. It was awkward—their noses bumped against each other and their teeth clashed slightly, but soon enough they slotted in together like puzzle pieces.
Arthur pulled back panting. “It would seem we have a lot of things to talk about after the tournament.”
Merlin was equally short of breath. “Yeah,” he whispered awestruck as he gently touched his lips with his fingers.
Arthur turned around to leave, but Merlin grabbed his wrist before he could get far.
“I don’t have time to make out, Merlin,” Arthur huffed.
“It’s not that,” Merlin said, now blushing. “I thought maybe you’d want to wear this… as a token of my luck.” Merlin took his red neckerchief off and handed it to Arthur.
Arthur nodded. “I’d like it if you put it on me,” he whispered. “I can’t openly wear it… it would create too many questions, but somewhere under my armor…”
Merlin smiled and pushed Arthur’s chainmail sleeve up his arm, delicately tying the scarf around Arthur’s bicep.
“No one else may know it’s there, but we will… and that’s what matters,” Merlin said once it was secure. “You better win for me now.”
Arthur laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of losing. I have someone I need to impress now.”
Two days later, Arthur was crowned champion once again and Merlin was beaming at him with pride. There had been a couple of close calls, but Arthur had always come out on top.
The celebration feast that night was long and everyone seemed to want to talk and congratulate Arthur, but around midnight Arthur excused himself. “If you don’t mind, father, I think I’ll be heading to bed.”
Uther waved his hand in dismissal and Arthur moved to grab Merlin. He dragged him up the stairs to his chambers before anyone else could interrupt them.
The minute the door to his room was shut he pushed Merlin up against the wall and kissed him senseless. After a few minutes Merlin pulled back. “Not complaining but I thought we were gonna talk about everything.”
Arthur huffed. “Talking is overrated, we can talk in the morning… for now I want to celebrate my victory.”
Merlin smirked mischievously. “I think I can find time in my schedule to fit that in. Should I try and find some streamers?”
Arthur rolled his eyes and dove back in for another kiss. As Merlin moaned into it, Arthur smiled. As much as he loved Merlin’s wit, he had finally found a way to get Merlin to stop talking when he wanted.