Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Get out of here!” Arthur ordered through gritted teeth, grabbing Merlin by the jacket and pushing him away. Odin’s men could pounce on them any second. 

“No,” Merlin refused, shaking Arthur’s hand off. 

Whirling around, Arthur’s face was furious as he strode into Merlin’s space. 

“This is really not the time for your backtalk, Merlin!” he snarled, eyes wild and urgent. “Get. Out. Of here. We’re too vulnerable in the open. Hide deeper in the woods, stay low. I’ll come find you later.”

He hoped the authority in his voice covered up his uncertainty. The rest of their group had scattered around, heeding Arthur’s orders. He knew it was the sensible thing to do, but he still hated not knowing where the others were. If they were safe.

He hadn’t meant to lead them so close to the clearing - he’d only intended to go in the opposite direction from where Leon and Geraint had led their own groups. He should’ve paid more attention. There was little that could be done now. 

But Merlin was here. And Arthur absolutely had to make sure the idiot would get out of this alive. If anything happened to him, Arthur would never forgive himself. 

It was Merlin’s fault they’d lost their horses. If Merlin hadn’t let himself be thrown off and knocked unconscious from the force, Arthur would have never had to run to his rescue and abandon his own horse to make sure his daft manservant was still among the living. 

The horses were Merlin’s fault, but it was Arthur’s actions that had led to Merlin being here in the first place - following Arthur everywhere, never leaving his side. Arthur never even had to ask him to do it. Merlin did all of that of his own volition. Did so many things that went beyond his line of duty, as though he was a knight who'd pledged himself to Arthur instead of a servant. 

Yes, Merlin had a knight’s loyalty. He was the bravest man Arthur’d ever known. 

But he couldn’t swing a sword to save his life. And Arthur knew that, and he had ignored it. And now Merlin’s life was in danger because of him. 

Arthur eyed the - thankfully - dry trickle of blood staining the hair on the right side of Merlin’s head and behind his ear, some of it smeared over his neck. His stomach churned, heavy with guilt. 

“Now, Merlin,” he said with finality, pushing him again with a hand to his chest. 

“I’m not leaving you!” Merlin argued fervently, jaw set in determination. “We’ll get through this together.” He squared his shoulders. “I’m staying.” 

Driven to the edge of his sanity, Arthur shook with frustration, fingers tingling with the urge to reach forward and curl into the lapels of Merlin’s jacket, drag the idiot away to safety himself. He resisted that urge, mainly because he feared he would end up kissing that ridiculous, irritating, self-sacrificing dollophead senseless. 

This was so not the time to fantasise about defiling your servant while trying to keep both of you alive. 

“I swear to God, Merlin-” Arthur started, all but ready to knock Merlin unconscious again and hide him somewhere in the bushes if it came to it. 

Merlin’s alarmed expression cut his complaint short.

“Arthur, watch out!”

Spinning around, Arthur gripped his sword in both hands, instinct taking over. 

The man was on a horseback, approaching fast, but Arthur was ready. It was just one man, armed with only a sword. It hardly took any effort on Arthur’s part to charge, throw him off, and dispatch him. The horse continued forward, stopping several yards behind Merlin.

“Merlin!” Arthur turned to him. “Take the horse. Get out of here.” 

The resolute shake of Merlin’s head didn’t come as a surprise, but it still made Arthur want to scream in frustration. 

“No,” he replied solemnly. Then, “Arthur!”

Arthur spun around, seeing another man approach in the same fashion as the first. 

Arthur faltered when two more men rode out from opposite directions, heading towards them. Shooting a concerned look at Merlin over his shoulder, Arthur ran forward, hoping to stop them before they got to Merlin. 

He took care of the first one fairly easily, giving him the same treatment he bestowed upon the last one. 

He almost missed the last one, only barely managing to bring his sword aloft before the man got too close for Arthur to react. 

In his peripheral vision, Arthur saw the third man was further ahead, giving Arthur plenty of time to prepare for the final strike. 

His relief didn’t last long. Unlike his companions, this man was equipped with a crossbow in addition to a sword. A crossbow that was already drawn tight, the man’s finger pressing the trigger. 

Arthur heard the whirring sound of the bolt piercing through the air, his stomach sinking as he realised it was too late. He still drew himself tall, standing his ground and clutching his sword in a death grip. He could almost feel the metallic taste of the bolt on his tongue even before it hit him. 

But the pain never came. Instead Arthur watched, incredulous, as the bolt froze in the air only inches from his chest. A second later, the man screamed as he flew off the horse, struck down by an invisible force. 

Even through the foggy whirlwind of his mind, he heard a sobbing hitch of breath behind him. 

The bolt fell to the ground.

Turning swiftly around, Arthur stared, disbelieving, as the golden glow of Merlin’s eyes bled out and gave way to the usual blue of his irises. 

Merlin’s expression mirrored Arthur’s - eyes wide with panic, mouth hanging open and sucking in gasping breaths. 

This couldn’t be-

Merlin couldn’t be-

Arthur would know. This wasn’t real. There must be an explanation. Merlin couldn’t-

A painful scream was torn out of Merlin’s throat. Paralyzed, Arthur watched him stumble backwards, Merlin’s gaze dropping in confusion. 

Following his gaze with his own, Arthur felt his heart come to a stop, body rigid with shock as red seeped through the blue fabric of Merlin’s tunic around the bolt embedded in his stomach.

“Merlin!” Arthur found his voice, his first instinct to run forward and catch Merlin in his arms. The instinct was overridden by logic, prompting him to identify and deal with the source first. 

The same man who had initially aimed at Arthur was now sitting on the ground, still holding the crossbow, sneering victoriously. 

His vision turning red, Arthur marched towards the man, wanting nothing more than to run the sword through his chest.

Before he got a chance, the man’s neck suddenly snapped to the side, the crossbow sliding from his hands. He crumbled backwards like a ragdoll. 

Understanding slowly dawning on him, Arthur whirled around, just in time to see another flash of gold behind Merlin’s drooping eyelids. And then, Merlin’s knees gave out, and Arthur rushed forward, dropping his sword so he could stop Merlin’s body from crashing to the ground. He fell into Arthur’s arms instead, sagging against his chest. 

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, blood rushing in his ears. “Merlin, no. No.”

He lowered himself to his knees, dragging Merlin with him and laying him sideways across his lap to avoid jostling the bolt. Cradling Merlin’s head in his hands, he gave him a gentle shake.

“Merlin, stay with me,” he pleaded. “Don’t fall asleep.” 

Merlin blinked his eyes open, seeking Arthur’s face. He smiled weakly, his breathing shallow.

“I saved your royal arse again.” 

Arthur gave him the best, disapproving glare he could muster.

“You idiot,” he pressed out through gritted teeth. “I told you to run.”

“I’d never leave you,” Merlin said simply, his eyes filling with dread. “Please, don’t make me leave you.” 

“Never,” Arthur said without hesitation, surprising himself. 

Merlin was… he was a sorcerer. 

Merlin had magic. And he’d lied to Arthur for… possibly since they’d met. 

But it was Merlin. Still Merlin. His Merlin. His goofy, no-manners-at-all Merlin. Merlin, who'd been willing to drink poison to save Arthur’s life after mere weeks in his service. Merlin, who ran his mouth without a single thought but somehow always knew the right thing to say. 

Because he was Merlin.

Arthur would never ask him to leave. 

Body sagging with relief, Merlin’s eyes began to flutter shut, his breath coming shallower by the second. 

“Merlin!” Arthur shook him again. 

Merlin sucked in a sharp breath, trailing his hands to where the bolt was stuck in his stomach. He let out a painful hiss.

“Don’t,” Arthur chastised, fingers curling protectively around Merlin’s delicate wrist.

“I need to get it out,” Merlin said, trying to reach for the bolt while Arthur batted his hands away. 

“Are you mad?! You must not remove it!” Arthur was no physician but he’d been injured plenty of times to know this. “You’ll bleed out.”

“I’ll be okay,” Merlin said dismissively, attempting to pull the bolt out.

“For God’s sake, Merlin!”

“I’ll be okay,” Merlin repeated, so bloody calm Arthur nearly cried from sheer powerlessness. “You need to press on the wound.”

“Merlin, no-” 

Once again, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, even more frightening and breathtaking from up close. In the next second, the bolt tore itself out of his body. Merlin’s anguished scream followed, prompting Arthur into action. With one hand still cradling Merlin’s head, his other one pressed firmly against the bleeding wound, drawing a sob from Merlin.

“You idiot!” Arthur yelled, clenching his eyes shut to ward off tears. Why couldn’t Merlin listen for once in his life?!

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Merlin said, looking at Arthur guiltily. 

Sorry for what? 

For trying to get himself killed? 

For not listening when Arthur had told him to run?

For being a sorcerer?

For lying to Arthur?

“Don’t talk,” Arthur ordered, looking away. “Don’t strain yourself.”

Merlin’s lips quirked up, head lolling to the side, his cheek cradled in Arthur’s palm. 

“Who knew the Prince of Camelot had such a soft side.” 

Despite the situation, Arthur laughed, although it came out a bit hysterical. 

“Maybe he's just frustrated with his mentally afflicted manservant,” he grumbled, but it sounded weak to his own ears. “Merlin." His chest constricted as though it was being crushed by an iron fist. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin repeated, voice thin. The undertone of resignation was so out of character that Arthur’s panic started rising again, transforming into a raging tempest. 

“Stop,” he ordered softly, willing his voice not to quiver and failing. “Just…” 

Merlin’s eyes had never left Arthur’s face, filled with regret and something else Arthur couldn’t - wouldn’t - name. His eyelids started to droop, his features smoothing out. He looked so beautiful like this, and Arthur didn’t remember ever being this scared. 

“No. Merlin,” he whispered urgently, patting Merlin’s face to keep him conscious. “Stay with me.” 

Merlin’s eyes blinked open again, a crease forming between his brows as they drew together. 

“Arthur.”

“You said you wouldn’t-” His breath hitched. He tried again. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.” 

Merlin’s lips parted, a silent sigh escaping them. The corner of his mouth twitched, as though attempting a smile. He placed his hand on top of Arthur’s where it was dutifully pressing on the wound, blood streaked and trembling. He squeezed Arthur’s fingers gently.

“Never,” he replied, so full of conviction Arthur would be tempted to believe him if he wasn’t feeling the life seeping out of him. Sensing Arthur’s doubt, Merlin said, “I’ll stay with you for as long as you want me to. I promise.” 

“Idiot,” Arthur chastised, making Merlin smile. He squeezed his fingers in return. “I always want you to.” 

Merlin made a sound between a sob and a whimper. It cut through Arthur like a knife. He held Merlin tighter.

Slowly, Merlin lifted a quivering hand, cupping Arthur’s jaw. His thumb brushed over Arthur’s chin, and Arthur wished his hand wouldn’t be so cold so he could revel in it instead of being acutely reminded of how quickly the warmth was leaving his body. 

Merlin scanned his face inquiringly. “Always?” he asked hopefully, holding Arthur’s gaze. 

“Always.”

A tear spilled from the corner of Merlin’s eye, running down his temple. His lips moved and Arthur leaned down to hear him. It wasn’t until his eyes flickered, gold glowing brighter than before, that Arthur finally understood - Merlin was reciting a spell. 

He held his breath, too stunned to be afraid. Words kept tumbling from Merlin’s lips, foreign and beautiful when spoken in such a low rumble, so different from Merlin’s usual voice. 

Arthur let out a surprised gasp as warmth spread throughout his body, making the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand. Merlin shuddered in his arms, squeezing Arthur’s fingers almost painfully. Arthur didn’t let go, tightening his hold in return. 

It felt like eternity before Merlin’s shuddering subsided and he sagged back into Arthur’s arms. His head lolled to the side, forehead pressing to Arthur’s stomach. His face going slack, just as the hand still clutched in Arthur’s own. 

Arthur’s panic came back full force. 

“Merlin? Merlin!” 

This time, Merlin didn’t respond and remained lying limply in Arthur’s arms.

Arthur’s fingers danced over the pale skin of Merlin’s neck, trying to find his pulse. The flutter under his fingertips was barely noticeable. Arthur knew it wouldn’t be long before it disappeared altogether. 

“You promised,” he spat accusingly, the sharp sting of his voice turning into a sob. 

He brought their foreheads together, finding Merlin’s cold as ice. 

“You promised.”

***

“How is he doing?” Leon asked as they slowed down, breathless from the tempo they’d set. 

Arthur’s arm around Merlin’s waist tightened instinctively, palm pressed firmly over the wound. He swallowed around a dry throat. 

“He’s stopped bleeding.” 

His hand was sticky, Merlin’s tunic soaked through. 

“That’s...good, right?” Leon questioned, unsure. 

Arthur had noticed the blood had begun trickling instead of gushing shortly after he propped Merlin on the horse, climbing up behind him and pressing Merlin against his chest to keep his limp form upright. It had been the least unfavorable of options. He couldn’t possibly have Merlin lay sideways over the horse - he would have died in minutes from blood loss. If the idiot had only listened to Arthur and kept the bolt where it was. 

“Maybe,” Arthur replied with the same hesitancy. 

This could mean two things; either the bolt had missed the vital organs (somehow, Arthur doubted that), or Merlin was on the brink of death. 

Arthur was too frantic to properly check his pulse again, but having Merlin’s body pressed against him this tightly, he was able to detect shallow but definitely-there breaths, his chest rising and falling infinitesimally. Merlin was still alive, but only just.

“I think we’re safe,” Geraint called from the far back. 

Arthur had nearly forgotten they might still be followed. It was unlikely - they were too close to Camelot, and for all his faults, Odin wasn’t a fool. 

Or maybe he was. After all, risking a war just so he could get his revenge wasn’t becoming of a king. Although he had almost succeeded.

“Let’s stay alert regardless,” Leon said, always prepared. He turned his attention back to Arthur, regarding him contemplatively. 

“My Lord,” he started reluctantly, and Arthur already knew what he was about to ask. “Do you think we might have been set up?”

When Uther had received the news about a group of bandits terrorizing a village two hours' swift ride from Camelot, he hadn’t hesitated sending Arthur and his Knights out to deal with the nuisance. It had been a fairly simple task and Arthur hadn’t thought twice about it. He should have.

As they’d approached the village, puzzled about the lack of signs of an attack, it had become apparent the village had been safe and intact. They had spoken to a few villagers just to be sure. When their assumptions had been confirmed, they had set off for Camelot with a queasy feeling in their stomachs. 

It hadn’t taken long to realise the gut feeling had been founded. 

“It would seem so,” Arthur replied bitterly. It was one thing to send an assassin to kill Arthur, but orchestrating an ambush that put the lives of his knights at risk was a different story. They could’ve been killed because of the King of Cornwall’s quarrel with Arthur. 

And now Merlin was dying. 

It had been sheer dumb luck that Leon had found them not long after Merlin had been injured. Leon had been able to reunite with Geraint’s group beforehand - just further proof that Odin’s men must have been given explicit instructions to get rid of the Crown Prince and not bother with the rest unless necessary. 

Arthur startled when Leon placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Arthur.” 

Was he that obvious? He must have been - Leon scarcely ever addressed Arthur by his name.

“No one could have predicted this.”

“I should have,” Arthur argued, grinding his teeth. “I should have made sure the information we received was legitimate.” 

Sighing, Leon withdrew his hand from Arthur’s shoulder.

“That would have taken time, and if it had been legitimate, it might have been too late for the villagers.”

“And now it’s too late for Merlin.”

Leon dropped his gaze, peering at Arthur from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not too late,” he countered, voice careful and soft. “It’s Merlin.” He let out a weak chuckle. “You know how stubborn he is.”

That he is, Arthur thought, equally fond and exasperated. 

“We need to hurry,” he said out loud, prompting his horse to pick up the pace.

Just hold on for me, Merlin, he prayed silently. Just hold on.

***

Arthur dropped everything and rushed Merlin to the physician's chambers. He barged in, not bothering to knock - and unable to with Merlin in his arms.

Gaius let out a loud yelp, pressing a hand over his heart as the sound of the door flying open made him jump. No doubt preparing a complaint, he clamped his mouth shut when his gaze landed on Merlin.

“Gaius,” Arthur began, voice already trembling. Pull yourself together. “I need you.”

Unwavering, Gaius strode forward - as fast as a man his age could - grabbing Arthur by the shoulder and leading him towards the cot by the potion cabinet.

“Lay him down here,” he instructed, unbelievably calm. 

Letting go of Merlin was harder than Arthur anticipated, his whole being screaming at him in protest. 

Immediately, Gaius’ hands roamed over Merlin’s body, assessing. Setting his lips into a thin line, he reached for a small knife on the table behind the cot, tearing the fabric of Merlin’s tunic apart to reveal the wound. 

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath. The hole in Merlin’s stomach looked enormous. 

“Gaius,” he said, alarmed. 

Gaius shook his head. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Arthur doubted that. “It’s mostly just dried blood. It will look much different when it’s all cleaned up,” he explained but didn’t make a move to do so. Instead he skimmed two fingers over Merlin’s neck, then proceeded to put his right ear to Merlin’s chest, watching Merlin’s face. 

Arthur waited with bated breath for the verdict. He couldn’t understand how Gaius remained so unaffected by seeing his apprentice - the boy who was like a son to him - in such a state. 

It felt like eternity when Gaius finally drew upright, nodding subtly to himself. “His pulse is very weak, but it’s steady.” 

Arthur’s breath left him in a rush. “I was worried. He stopped bleeding not long after he was wounded and I thought-” He swallowed audibly. “I thought it was because…”

Gaius nodded again. “It’s not looking good.” 

Arthur sputtered. “But you said-”

“He might be bleeding internally. I need to inspect the wound to determine which organs have been affected.”

Arthur scanned his gaze over Merlin’s front, replaying Gaius’s words that it looked worse than it was. 

“How did this happen?”

“It was a bolt.”

Gaius frowned and Arthur knew what he must be thinking.

“I know you’re not supposed to remove the object when something like this happens, but Merlin pulled it out before he lost consciousness. I don’t know why.”

The memory of Merlin’s eyes flashing gold reminded Arthur what he’d learnt about his manservant. He gave Gaius a sidelong glance, wondering how much the physician knew. 

“That is correct,” Gaius agreed. “But riding back to Camelot with a bolt embedded in his ribs would have made it much more difficult. Taking it out was actually better in hindsight.”

Arthur gave him a confused look. “I thought it was his stomach.”

Gaius shook his head, pointing towards the wound as though Arthur had missed it.

“You see how high this is above the navel? And to the left?” 

Arthur cocked his head, given a reluctant nod upon closer inspection. It was rather high, but Arthur’s knowledge of anatomy was quite limited. 

“The bolt went between his ribs. At an angle as well, you see?” 

Arthur didn’t, not really, but he gave another nod regardless. 

“My guess is that it pierced the spleen, but I’m going to need time to make sure.”

“What does that mean for him?”

“The spleen he can live without. It’s the internal bleeding that worries me. There’s very little that can be done about that.”

Arthur felt his eyes sting.

“And if he’s not bleeding inside?”

Gaius sighed, and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. 

“He’s still at high risk of infection.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face, exhaustion settling in his bones. 

“I told him to run,” he pressed through gritted teeth. “Told him to hide. He wouldn’t listen to me.”

Gaius smiled sadly, brushing a short strand of hair from Merlin’s face. 

“He wouldn’t, would he.” He turned to look at Arthur, a stern expression on his face. “Don’t you go blaming yourself, Your Highness. This was not, by any means, your fault.”

Arthur barked a humourless laugh. “If you were there, you would know it was all my fault.”

It looked like Gaius was about to say something else when the door swung open, revealing Gwen’s tear-streaked face, Morgana at her side.

“Oh my God,” Gwen sobbed, rushing towards them, dropping to her knees by Merlin’s side. “Merlin.”

“Arthur, what happened?” Morgana asked from behind him, voice trembling. 

Arthur gave her a fleeting look. She’d managed to keep the tears at bay, but couldn’t hide her crestfallen expression.

“We were ambushed. By Odin’s men.” 

“But-”

“I’ll explain after I’ve spoken to Father.”

Morgana wasn’t happy but didn’t push further. Instead, she ran her hand briefly over Arthur’s arm, then rested both hands on Gwen’s shoulders, rubbing small circles with her thumbs. 

“H-how is he, Gaius?” Gwen asked, wiping at her cheeks. 

“It’s too soon to say,” Gaius replied evasively. It made Gwen cry harder - everyone knew what that meant. “For now, the best thing we can do is to let him rest and hope he doesn’t hemorrhage further and the wound doesn’t get infected.”

“Can’t you give him something to make sure he doesn’t?” Arthur reasoned. “Some herbs?”

Gaius shook his head regretfully. “I can’t give him any liquids until I’ve determined the extent of the injury. I can use some herbs externally, but it will only do so much.”

It came as a shock when Arthur’s initial reaction was to ask “What about magic?!” and he only barely stopped himself from blurting it out. 

He would find out how much Gaius knew - if he knew. But he must know, right? Merlin had lived with him for years, there was no way he would have been able to keep his magic secret for that long.

He kept it from you, Arthur’s internal voice supplied. 

“I need to report to my father,” Arthur said sternly. “I’ll be back soon. See how he’s doing.” 

He knew there was nothing he could do, but he hated the idea of leaving Merlin all the same. 

“Hopefully, I’ll have more to tell you by then,” Gaius replied. 

“We’ll stay with him until you get back,” Morgana reassured, trying for a smile. 

“Thank you.” 

He left Gaius’ quarters with a heavy heart, feeling something inside him twist and clench with each step that took him further from Merlin. 

***

Uther was, predictably, livid. 

“How dare he! Within Camelot’s borders!”

Arthur closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Is this what he’s upset about? He chose to stay silent after describing the incident without much detail, letting Leon do the talking. He had been worried about explaining what had happened when Merlin was injured, but he should have known his father would barely spare him a single thought. 

“We assume the incident was a result of Odin’s old grudge against the Prince.” 

“I knew I should have dealt with him after what happened at the tournament,” Uther spat, turning to glare at Arthur. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

Arthur tensed, jutting out his chin. “It would only make it worse. I didn’t want to risk a war.” 

“It would seem Odin has no such qualms.” 

“Father,” Arthur said warningly. “This is between me and Odin. I won’t have innocent men die because of it.” He paused. “On either side.”

Uther looked positively appalled. 

“Arthur, this will be addressed. Odin must suffer the consequences of his actions.”

Trying to quell his panic, Arthur replied, “I will deal with Odin. Eventually.” He already felt sick at the thought. “At the moment, there are more pressing matters at hand.”

“What matters?”

“Merlin is wounded. He might not survive.”

Uther bristled. “A servant? What difference does it make if he dies or not?”

It took all of Arthur’s self-control not to lash out at his father. The dreadful thought of what Uther would do if he found out about Merlin's magic was nearly paralysing. Father must never know.

“He saved my life.”

“You are to be King, Arthur,” Uther explained exasperatedly. “You have to get used to others laying down their lives for you.” 

Arthur bit back a retort. This was not the time to argue with Uther about the wrongness of that statement. 

“I’m not King yet,” he said instead, voice carefully level. “And right now, my friend is dying. And I’ll do whatever I can to help him.”

Uther inhaled sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Arthur-”

“I believe Sir Leon will be able to answer all your questions, Father,” he interjected, wincing internally at Uther’s incredulous expression. God, what was he doing, speaking to his father like this? 

“I will,” Leon said, shuffling his feet. 

Arthur shot him a grateful look before bowing his head and fleeing the throne room before Uther could gather his bearings. 

***

“Any news?” Arthur enquired once he was back in the physician’s chambers. He approached the cot with apprehension. Even now, the sight of Merlin, ashen and unmoving, had his stomach roiling with nausea. 

“I haven’t found any signs of internal bleeding,” Gaius replied, tucking the blanket over and around Merlin snuggly. 

Arthur perked up. “Really?” 

“Yes.”

“How’s that possible?”

“The human body is full of wonders.”

Arthur didn’t know much about the limits of the body’s ability to heal, but he knew Gaius was hiding something. 

Arthur stared at Merlin’s expressionless face, trying his best to not let it deter him from the good news. Gaius had put a bandage around his head, probably to keep the gash above Merlin’s temple clean. Arthur knew it was nothing - Merlin had been fine even after he’d hit his head - but it just made Arthur’s guilt burn stronger.

“You look tired, Gaius,” he observed as he watched Gaius lower himself carefully into a chair. 

“Worry tends to do that.”

“Why don’t you rest, then?” he suggested innocently, hoping it sounded natural. 

The cot didn’t seem to be the sturdiest piece of furniture Arthur’d ever seen. Unwilling to risk damage - to Merlin, not the damned cot - he sat himself down on the floor by Merlin’s side.

“I’ll stay with Merlin. Keep an eye on him.”

Arthur meant it - Gaius needed to rest, and Merlin needed to be looked after. But Arthur also needed Gaius to be gone for a short while, and if not gone, then at least asleep. Arthur had questions, and it was time he found some answers. 

“That’s very kind of you, Arthur, but it’s not nec-”

“I insist,” Arthur said firmly. “Merlin will need you to be at your best.”

Gaius hesitated only for a few seconds before he stood up again and shuffled towards his bed. 

“Well, I could use a short nap.”

***

Arthur listened closely as Gaius made himself comfortable, settling on his side, facing the wall. It took but a few minutes before the tell-tale snoring sounds of Gaius being fast asleep reached Arthur’s ears, but he remained put for a while, making sure Gaius wasn’t going to wake up at the slightest disturbance. 

With another worried look in Merlin’s direction, Arthur rose to his feet, cursing himself a little for not having had the hindsight to remove his armour before he’d come here. Every move he made echoed in the room, and he could only hope that Gaius’ hearing was at least slightly impared due to his age.

He made his way to Merlin’s room, shaking his head at the state of it - clothes strewn everywhere, the bed unmade, a book discarded on the floor partially covered by a dirty shirt-

A book.

It could be any book, lLogically Arthur knew that. But after the recent revelations, something was telling him this was not the case. 

He left the door open so he could keep an ear out for Gaius’ snoring and stepped further into the room. 

He crouched down, holding his breath as he slid the shirt off the book, only to choke on his next inhale as he read the title.

Spells and rituals

It felt as though he wasn’t in control of his body as he grasped the spine, equally shocked and relieved. He didn’t know what he’d expected exactly - maybe to spontaneously combust, or to be hit by lightning. But the book felt like any other book in his hands, heavy and solid and real. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t imagining this. 

Even though he knew Merlin was a sorcerer - having witnessed his magic with his own eyes - holding blatant, physical proof still shook him to his core. It wasn’t the confirmation that he wasn’t delusional, that Merlin indeed had magic, that was making him feel so overwhelmed - it was the absence of fear that made him falter. 

He'd been afraid before, when he’d seen the blue of Merlin’s eyes overtaken by the golden light. Of course he'd been afraid - his manservant had magic for crying out loud! Except, as hours had passed, he had been forced to admit that it wasn’t Merlin having magic that scared him. 

Sitting down on the edge of Merlin’s bed, he hauled the book into his lap, flipping it open with quivering fingers. Even had he tried telling himself that the title was just a joke, the page he’d opened would have slapped him back to reality. 

This was no joke.

This was an actual spell. A spell for-

Arthur stared, frowning. He read that again.

It was a spell for…making your hair grow?

What the actual f-

“Your Highness?”

He would deny the sound he made to his dying day. He slammed the book shut, his rounded eyes finding Gaius standing in the door - the wide open door that Arthur had left wide open to keep an eye on him.  

His tongue was heavy in his mouth, unable to form words. It felt like being eight again, caught red handed by his father when he’d sneaked out to the stables in the middle of the night to talk to the horses. 

“What are you doing, Your Highness?” Gaius demanded way too calmly for Arthur’s liking. He regarded Arthur with carefully concealed distrust, waiting patiently for him to speak. To defend himself, maybe?

Finally finding his voice, Arthur said raspily, “What does it look like?” and was relieved when it didn’t come out shaky. 

Gaius pasted on a thin smile, stepping inside.

“If you want to learn more about the power of various herbs, I’m happy to teach you.”

Arthur blinked.

“What?”

Gaius raised an eyebrow, pointing his chin in the direction of Arthur’s hands. 

“The book?”

Arthur’s gaze flicked between the physician and the grimoire. Was he going insane?

“This,” he said irritably, standing up. “Is a book of spells, Gaius.” He held the book in the air, as though Gaius had missed it. 

For the first time since he'd found him snooping around, Gaius looked terrified.

“I’m sorry?” 

“It says right here!” Arthur pointed at the title frantically, flinching at the volume of his voice. 

Gaius gaped at him, face drained of colour.

“Sire, I-”

“You know, don’t you?” Arthur accused. “About Merlin?” 

Gaius didn’t speak, a series of conflicting emotions flashing in his eyes. Okay, then. Arthur would spell it out for him if he had to.

“He’s a sorcerer.”

Gaius’ shoulders sagged. 

“You know,” Arthur breathed, feeling stupid for having thought for just a minute that Gaius might have not been aware he’d been harbouring a sorcerer. 

“Yes,” Gaius said, ducking his head, ashamed.

“You’ve known all this time.”

“Yes.”

Arthur's jaw clenched. How many more had known and kept the truth from him? How many had known, laughing behind Arthur’s back that the Crown Prince was such an oblivious idiot that he hadn’t even noticed his manservant had magic ?

“Arthur,” Gaius said tentatively. “How do you-”

“Does it matter?” Arthur barked, tasting the bitterness of the words on his tongue. 

Setting his mouth into a thin line, Gaius cautiously stepped forward until Arthur was within reach. 

“This book.” He grazed a finger over the cover. “Merlin cast a glamour on it.” 

Arthur made a face.

“A what?”

“To anyone who doesn’t have magic, the book appears to be a collection of information on herbs and their use.”

It took a long moment before the words finally sank in.

“I- I-” Arthur stuttered, looking at the grimoire as though it might still set him on fire. “I don’t have magic.”

“No. I know,” Gaius reassured, studying Arthur’s face. “And yet, you’re able to see through the glamour.”

Arthur didn’t ask if Gaius could read it, too. He knew that Gaius used to practice magic before the Purge. He briefly wondered if that qualified Gaius as a magic user, but didn’t bother asking.

“Arthur,” Gaius began gently. “What happened out there?”

Arthur’s thumb brushed the spine, the memory of the golden light and Merlin’s terrified face flashing in his mind. 

“Merlin saved my life.”

Gaius nodded.

“He took the bolt for you.”

“No.” Arthur shook his head. “Not really. He stopped the bolt from hitting me.” He hesitated. “With magic. I saw his eyes turn gold.” 

Another nod. “Anything else?”

“He used magic to take out the bolt. And… then once more, but I don’t know why.” He scoured his memory for as much detail as he could recall. “He said some foreign words. His eyes glowed. And t-then he fell unconscious.”

“And you have no idea what it might have been for?”

“No.”

He'd hoped it'd been a healing spell - not that he knew what that would sound like, nor what it would entail - but it'd still come as a shock when, instead of healing himself, Merlin’s body had sagged in his arms, almost lifeless. 

“All right, my boy.” Gaius’ voice brought him to the present moment. “Why don’t we sit down and I’ll try to explain as best I can.” 

“Explain what?” Arthur said broodingly, even though he was eager to learn more. He just wanted - needed - to understand. “That my friend of three years has lied to me all this time.”

He hated the pitying way Gaius looked at him. 

“It was for your own good, Arthur.”

“He lied to me!” His knuckles turned white around the book. “I trusted him!”

Gaius kept his voice down.

“It’s not my place to speak for him. I can tell you some things, but Merlin is the one you need to hear it from.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Merlin was lying. “I just hope that when he wakes up, you’ll let him explain.” He turned back to Arthur with a pleading expression. “There’s so much you don’t know, Arthur. So much he’s done for you.” 

Arthur swallowed heavily, feeling his eyes burn. As much as he wanted the truth, he wasn’t sure how much he could handle.

“If he wakes up,” he corrected weakly.

Gaius squeezed his shoulder, trying for a smile.

“Have faith.”

Arthur didn’t reply. He still let Gaius lead him to the main room, bracing himself for what he was about to learn.

They needed more than faith. 

***

“You think it’s magic that’s helping Merlin heal?” Arthur summarized after Gaius had been explaining who Merlin was and how his magic worked for the better part of an hour.

Gaius was under the impression that the reason Merlin’s condition wasn’t worsening was due to his powers. They’d gone over the event of the ambush over and over. 

It was obvious that Merlin had stopped bleeding consequently to having cast the last spell (although neither of them knew what it had been for). Furthermore, the fact he wasn’t bleeding internally was a miracle in and of itself. Gaius had warned him Merlin could still develop an infection, it was too soon to tell. But as of now, Merlin’s temperature remained within an acceptable range. 

“It’s possible,” Gaius confirmed. “He’s very powerful.”

Arthur’s brows shot up. His stomach fluttered and he wasn’t sure why.

“He is?”

Gaius nodded wordlessly.

Arthur knew Gaius hadn’t told him everything, not by a long shot. There were too many loose ends, and even after all he’d been told Arthur had more questions than answers. But he knew this:

Merlin had been born with magic.

The only other person who knew was Lancelot (Arthur had squished down the sudden, inexplicable surge of rage the information had invoked).

He’d spent all those years in Arthur’s service saving his life (Arthur didn’t even dare think on how many occasions he’d had to do that).

“Maybe we could help,” he suggested, hardly believing what he was saying. Magic was still illegal! And he was a bloody Pendragon!

“Neither of us know magic, Arthur,” Gaius said with remorse.

“You do.”

“Those times are long gone. I was never very good beyond mixing potions.”

“But the book-”

“Is like a sword. It’s useless to you unless you know how to wield it.”

“I can learn.” Arthur’s eyes bulged out when he registered what he’d said. 

Gaius’ expression mirrored his. “Have you forgotten your father’s stance on magic?!”

Arthur laughed humourlessly. “Believe me - I haven’t. But if it saves Merlin’s life…”

“Arthur,” Gaius said with thinning patience. “It’s not that easy. Healing spells are incredibly complicated and not even talented sorcerers can cure everything.”

“But you said Merlin’s magic is strong. If we can give it a little nudge-”

“Arthur.” Arthur snapped his mouth shut, taken aback by the harsh tone. “I know this is hard for you. If I knew a way to use magic to save Merlin’s life, I would do it. But I’m afraid this is all in Merlin’s hands.”

“So what can we do?” Arthur asked begrudgingly. There must be something he could do. 

Gaius’ answer only angered him further. “Be here for him.”

“You should get some sleep,” he continued before Arthur could argue further. “It’s been a trying day.”

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Arthur raised the grimoire to Gaius’ eye level. "Can I keep this?” 

Gaius hesitated, deep lines creasing his forehead. 

“No one else will know what it is,” Arthur added in a rush. He didn’t know what compelled him to want to keep the book, he just knew he was meant to have it. He didn’t tell Gaius that, of course.

“Arthur-”

“Please? I’ll give it back.”

Gaius let out a resigned sigh, hunching his shoulders.

“Very well.”

Arthur did an internal fist pump.

“Thank you.” He gathered the book and stood up before Gaius could change his mind. He still stopped by the cot, resisting the urge to run his fingers over Merlin’s cheek. 

“I’ll be back in the morning.” 

Gaius didn’t reply, and Arthur wondered if it was because he thought the words weren’t meant for him.

Arthur didn’t even know anymore. 

***

Eric crumbled to the ground like a sack of grain, letting out an undignified yelp when Arthur pressed the tip of his sword against his throat. 

Arthur rolled his eyes, removing the sword.

“Break time!” he announced grumpily. Months and months had passed and he wasn’t getting anywhere with the new recruits. He’d started to think he would be more successful with the kitchen staff. They, at least, knew how to use a knife.

“You’re not going easy on them,” Merlin pointed out with a nervous smile, taking the sword from Arthur for polishing.

“How else are they supposed to learn?” Arthur shot back.

“Observation.”

Arthur guffawed. “There’s only so much you can learn in theory.”

“I know plenty in theory.” Merlin shrugged. “Just by watching you fight.”

Arthur leveled him with a challenging look, suppressing a grin. “If you enjoy watching me fight so much, maybe you could pick up a sword and learn a thing or two.”

Merlin scrunched up his nose. "No, thank you.”

Arthur nudged his shoulder with his, earning an unimpressed scowl. "Come on, Merlin.”

“Not interested.”

“Not interested,” Arthur parrotted mockingly. “You need to know how to defend yourself. I can’t keep saving your useless backside all the time.”

He felt heat rise to his cheeks and hoped Merlin hadn’t deciphered the hidden meaning behind his nagging. 

“My useless backside?” Merlin demanded, affronted. “I’m the one who keeps saving your royal arse.”

“Well, you can’t keep doing magic everywhere you go,” Arthur reasoned. He couldn’t risk Merlin putting himself in even more danger. If anyone found out… “You need to lie low, learn how to fight.”

The sword slipped from Merlin’s grip. He stared at Arthur in shock, frozen in place.

“You-”

“What?” Arthur asked, uncomprehending. 

“You know?” Merlin breathed, incredulous. 

“What?”

“That I-” The words seemed to get stuck in his throat.

“You’re a sorcerer,” Arthur finished for him, unfazed.

Merlin’s expression only turned more alarmed. “H-how-” he started, coming to a halt. "Oh,” he breathed, shoulders relaxing and the skin of his face smoothing out. “I’m dreaming.”

It was Arthur’s turn to gape.

“What?”

And then, like snuffing out a candle, the world went dark. The reality - the dream? - shifted, and when colour returned, Arthur found himself in different surroundings. Familiar surroundings.

His heart raced, panic rising as recognition sank in.

No, it couldn’t be-

“Arthur.”

Suddenly, Merlin was there, standing in front of him, eyes big and scared as he stared at Arthur. 

“Merlin!”

Arthur reacted even before the circumstances of the situation dawned on him. He charged forward, tackling Merlin to the ground unceremoniously, nearly knocking the breath out of him. There was a swishing sound as the bolt pierced through the air somewhere above them. 

“Oof.”

He landed heavily on top of Merlin, mildly apologetic.

“Are you alright?” he asked, scanning Merlin’s face frantically for any sign of injury.  

“Yeah. I-” 

Arthur lifted himself off so he could inspect the state of Merlin’s stomach, feeling faint with relief when he found the blue tunic intact.

“Arthur?”

The relief was short lived, Merlin’s words coming back to him.

“This isn’t real, is it?” Arthur suppressed a quiver. “You’re dying.”

Something akin to realisation flickered across Merlin’s eyes, his gaze softening.

“Arthur, I-”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur blurted. His vision started to blur and he buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder, pressing his nose into the fabric of his neckerchief. “I’m so sorry.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said hoarsely. Arthur was quite sure that if he looked up, he would find him crying. 

He stifled a sob when Merlin’s fingers slid through his hair, his other hand snaking around Arthur’s back. 

Arthur clung to him, wishing he could turn into a ball of golden light and bury himself in Merlin’s chest. 

He turned his head, pressing his lips to the patch of exposed skin of Merlin’s neck, and whispered, “Stay with me.”

***

Arthur jolted awake, heart racing like he’d just fought a half-dozen men. The remnants of the dream started to fade, slipping through his mind like sand between fingers, leaving him with a gaping pit in his stomach.

He blinked blearily, the familiarity of his chambers both reassuring and disappointing. 

A soft knock on the door startled him. It slowly occurred to him that that was what must have woken him up in the first place.  

“Come in.” 

The words scratched his throat, as though he’d been screaming himself hoarse for hours. 

The door cracked open, revealing Gwen’s soft face and reluctant smile. The ache in Arthur’s chest reminded him of Merlin’s absence and the reason for it.

“Guinevere,” he greeted, hoping she hadn’t detected the crack in his voice.

“Arthur.” Her smile widened. “Good morning.” 

She stepped into the chambers, carrying a silver tray overflowing with a variety of foods. She walked to the table, nudging it in Arthur’s direction before placing it on top.

“I brought you breakfast since you- um. While you...”

She gnawed at her lip, seemingly at a loss for words, and Arthur decided to take pity on her.

“You didn’t have to,” he said meekly, then added, more firmly, “Thank you.”

Gwen curtsied ever so subtly, her smile turning sad. She looked to the door, then back at Arthur like she wasn’t sure whether to stay or go. 

“Have you been to see him since yesterday?” Arthur heard himself ask. 

Judging by the amount of sunlight that had entered the chambers, it was later in the morning than Arthur usually woke up. Or rather, was woken up. 

“Just before I went to the kitchens,” she replied, and Arthur’s heart sank at the flat tone. 

“Is he-”

A sudden sob interrupted his question, and when he looked up, Gwen was covering her mouth, her cheeks tear-streaked.

“Arthur, what if he doesn’t-”

“He will,” Arthur said resolutely. He knew Merlin would get better. He would. He had to. “He will. He has to.”

Gwen wiped her cheeks dry with the sleeve of her dress, hiccupping softly. 

“I wish there was something we could do.”

Arthur’s mind conjured the memory of the grimoire, Gaius’ words ringing in his ears like an echo. 

“Me too.”

Silence stretched between them, and then Gwen said, “Oh. Is this-” She walked over to Arthur’s desk. “Are you studying herbs?”

Arthur tensed, a wave of panic washing over him before he remembered the glamour. He watched Gwen pick up the book from where he’d left it last night on the desk, a lump in his throat even though he knew she couldn’t see it for what it truly was. 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, and it was the truth. Despite Gaius’ warnings and claims, Arthur refused to believe there was nothing he could do. Refused to give up. Merlin wouldn’t. If it was the other way around, Merlin wouldn’t, Arthur was sure of that. “It’s a good skill to have.”

Gwen nodded, flipping through the pages with slight fascination. “Definitely.” She closed the book, ran her palm over the cover and turned to Arthur.

“Merlin is very lucky to have you,” she said. “You care about him so much.”

She didn’t mean anything by it, surely, but Arthur still choked on air, ducked his head, and sputtered, “H-he’d do the same for me.”

“For any of us,” Gwen agreed, oblivious, and Arthur let out a deep exhale.

She stepped away from the desk, stopping by Arthur’s bed. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said, smiling again and Arhur tried to return it. 

“Thank you, Guinevere.”

She curtsied again and took her leave. 

Arthur shot from the bed as soon as the door clicked shut behind her and stripped with lightning speed. Putting a fresh pair of trousers and a tunic on proved to be slightly more difficult but he managed, because despite what everyone - mostly Merlin - thought, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. 

He gulped down a goblet of water, grabbed a chunk of bread and rushed from his chambers, taking the stairs down to the physician’s quarters. Once there, he knocked, but didn’t wait for an invitation to enter. 

“Gaius,” he greeted, giving the man a nod.

Gaius looked up from where he was changing the bandage around Merlin’s head.

“Morning, Arthur. How did you sleep?”

“It was alright,” Arthur lied. He approached the cot, standing beside Gaius. “I had some strange dreams.”

“No wonder, after the day you had.”

“Guinevere told me there was no change.”

Gaius sighed deeply. “Unfortunately, no.”

Even though he’d already known, hearing it first hand hit hard.

“Is that normal?” he asked, harsher than he’d meant to. There was no reason to take his frustration out on Gaius. “Why is he not waking up?”

“I’m not sure,” Gaius said regretfully. “There are still no signs of any more hemorrhage and his temperature is within acceptable range. I meant to ask you about this, though.” He ran a single finger over Merlin’s bandaged forehead. “How did this happen?”

“He was thrown off his horse.” Arthur didn’t really see why that was important. “Lost consciousness for a moment. I had to scoop him up, and then we ran after he’d woken up. He was okay until-” He let Gaius fill in the blank. 

“I see,” Gaius said, a look of intense contemplation on his face. 

“Does that mean anything?”

Gaius’ shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “I thought the impact might have caused swelling in the brain. But if he was conscious for a period of time, enough that he was able to run, that’s unlikely.”

“No,” Arthur confirmed. “No, he was coherent after he’d regained consciousness.”

“Then I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to why he’s not waking up.”

There was something in the way he said it that didn’t sit well with Arthur.

“There’s something,” he conceded. “Tell me.”

Gaius hesitated, probably wondering if he should lie or not. To Arthur’s relief, he eventually replied with, “I have a theory.”

Arthur had a feeling he might know what the theory was about.

“Does it have anything to do with your previous theory that Merlin’s magic is healing him?”

His assumption was proven correct when Gaius nodded. “Maybe his body has shut down temporarily, letting magic do its work.”

Arthur raked his gaze over Merlin’s body, a blanket pulled up to his neck, face pale - paler than usual. The only spark of life was the barely perceivable rise and fall of his chest. 

“But he’s not showing any signs of waking up,” Arthur voiced what Gaius wasn’t saying. His tongue felt heavy, sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

Gaius didn’t reply. He didn’t need to - his expression said it all. 

Arthur closed his eyes, digging his nails into the meat of his palms. 

“How do we know that’s what it is and that he’ isn't just slowly dying in front of our eyes?”

He’d already guessed the answer, and yet Gaius’ words still felt like a bolt running him through - as it should have in the first place. 

“We don’t, I’m afraid. Not for now, anyway.”

***

Training was one of the last things that interested him right now, but Uther was already displeased by Arthur’s not so little outburst the day before. Arthur didn’t want to push his luck and risk aggravating his father further. And maybe strenuous, physical activity would do him some good, take his mind off the powerless situation he'd found himself in. 

Bloody Merlin and his bloody sacrificial tendencies. This could all have been avoided if he’d just listened to Arthur for once in his life. 

As he glared at his armour, resigning himself to having to call Gwen to help him because there was absolutely no way he could put all that on by himself, there was a knock on the door. He huffed a small laugh. Maybe Gwen could read minds?

“Enter.”

It wasn’t Gwen.

“Morgana,” Arthur said with obvious surprise. Morgana rarely showed herself in his chambers. 

“Hello, Arthur,” she replied, uncharacteristically gentle. Arthur wasn’t used to seeing her this way. Her hair was brushed and styled perfectly, as usual, and she was wearing a beautiful, emerald dress. But her cheeks had lost their peachy colour and the spark in her eyes had dimmed.

“What is it?”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing and-” She took one look at the armour splayed out in front of him, and chuckled slightly. “If you needed any help.”

“I was just about to ask Guinevere to help me with that,” Arthur admitted.

“I can do it.” 

Arthur blinked at her, nonplussed. Of course Morgana would know what to do with armour, but in the long years they’d spent together, she’d never done it for him. 

“That would be…nice,” he said, feeling strangely out of place. 

Morgana smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

They didn’t speak as she worked to put the armour on him, her hands smaller than Merlin’s and not as gentle during the process. Arthur couldn’t help but compare the two experiences, a feeling of intense longing rippling through him almost violently. He stared into the vast space of his chambers, trying to keep his expression blank. 

“You truly are hopeless without your manservant, aren’t you?” Morgana broke the silence, teasing. 

Arthur was grateful. 

“Shut up, Morgana,” he shot back with no heat. 

Morgana laughed quietly, finishing with the fastenings and handing Arthur his gloves. 

“He’ll be okay, Arthur,” she said with conviction, squeezing Arthur’s fingers reassuringly. 

“I know.” 

He didn’t. But he refused to think of the opposite. 

Morgana gave him a thin smile - Arthur suspected she understood what he wasn’t saying out loud - and went to fetch his sword. 

A sharp gasp made Arthur whirl around, finding Morgana standing at his desk, eyes wide and face pale as she stared at the grimoire.

“Morgana?”

“What is this?” she barked, the sharpness of the question betrayed by the quiver in her voice.

There was a terrifying moment when Arthur felt his heart leap to his throat, but he quelled it down immediately. There was nothing to be worried about. The glamour worked - Gwen was proof. There must have been an explanation for Morgana’s peculiar reaction.

“A book about herbs,” he said carefully. “Gaius let me have it. I thought I could-”

“What are you talking about?!” Morgana glared at him, grabbing the book and holding it in front of herself like a shield. “Arthur, this…this is a grimoire!”

Ice cold dread ran through his veins, causing him to freeze on the spot. “What?”

“Can’t you read?!”

“M-Morgana.”

God, this couldn’t be happening. Gaius had said so! It was impossible. Only those who had magic could-

Oh.

“Why do you have it?” Morgana demanded, shaking Arthur from his momentary paralysis. He hadn’t noticed her moving closer, standing only a couple feet away now.

“I-I told you-”

“Don’t lie to me!” she cried, her face turning red with righteous fury. “If someone-” She shot an alarmed look to the door, as though she expected someone to barge in any second. “If Uther found it, he would have you thrown in the dungeons.” 

Arthur’s vision tunneled, Morgana’s words sounding distorted to his ears, then gradually sharpening. And finally, the meaning sank in.

“Are you listening?!” Morgana yelled, eyes brimming with tears. 

“Morgana,” Arthur said as calmly as he could, incongruous with the way he felt. “Gaius said only people with magic can see through the glamour. For an ordinary person this is just a book about plants.” He took in her confused expression, dreading the answer but asking anyway. “How did you know?”

Emotions flickered in her eyes as she processed the question. Arthur knew when she finally realised, because her panicked expression transformed into something almost.... hopeful.

“How did you know?!” she shot back, closing the distance between them, the book acting like a barrier. “Do you- Do you have magic, too?”

Too. 

“Do you-”

“Yes,” she all but screamed. “Yes, God. Arthur. Arthur,” she chanted, eyes frantic and wet but sparkling with something akin to relief. “I thought it was just me,” she choked out. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. Had no one to tell. Oh, God.”

And there it was, clear as day. 

The room spun around him and he shook his head. He couldn’t let panic get the better of him. Morgana needed him.

She needed him.

Because she had magic.

He had to think quickly, before Morgana broke down completely and dragged Arthur with her. 

“Morgana,” he whispered, careful as he gripped her by the arms, hoping the contact would ground her. She was shaking like a leaf, clutching the grimoire in her hands like it was her anchor.  

“Morgana, I… Father will have my head if I skip training,” he said with a frown. He hated to do this, but he had to be reasonable. “Can you meet me at Gaius’ around lunchtime?”

She sniffled, blinking rapidly. “Y-yeah.”

“We’ll talk about this, okay?” he promised. 

He hesitated only for a second before pulling her into his arms, hugging her tightly, feeling the book press into his abdomen. It couldn’t be comfortable, with Arthur already clad in his armour, but he thought Morgana appreciated it nonetheless.

“Okay?”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, sniffling again. 

He took a step back, prompting Morgana to look him in the eyes. 

“It will be alright.”

He had no idea what he would do. The rug had been pulled from under him twice in the span of two days, leaving him breathless and lost. 

But, somehow, there was also this curious, inexplicable feeling, like puzzle pieces slotting into their rightful place.

***

Arthur could hear the knights whisper frantically among themselves, shooting him peculiar looks. None of them had ever been able to beat him, not even Geraint who was the best of them. But Arthur had been so distracted by Morgana’s revelation that he had been knocked down twice, by two different men. He just hoped Father hadn’t seen it. 

He decided to call it a day, slapping everyone’s shoulder for a job well done, and rushed to Gaius’ quarters fully clad in his armour. 

His stomach dropped to the floor when he didn’t find Morgana there.

“Arthur,” Gaius said, seemingly unbothered by Arthur’s habit to barge in without knocking. “I just checked Merlin’s vitals.”

“Nothing?” 

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur shook off the sinking feeling of disappointment, focusing on the other matter at hand.

“Is Morgana here?” 

“The Lady Morgana?” Gaius asked, confused. “No. Why?”

On cue, there was a soft knock on the door before it opened a crack. Morgana peeked inside, wide-eyed and fidgety.

Arthur let out a long, relieved breath. “I was worried you’d changed your mind.”

She smiled fondly, stepping inside and shutting the door. “I didn’t want to come here without you. I watched until you finished your drills.”

Arthur felt his heart go out to her. Morgana had always felt a little too much, a little too deeply, but it was usually expressed by temper tantrums and relentless nagging.  Seeing her like this, remembering how her composure had crumbled as she'd revealed her secret, was all kinds of peculiar. 

“That was smart,” he said, giving her an encouraging smile which she returned reluctantly. Arthur beckoned for her to come stand next to him and grasped her elbow when she was within reach, hoping it was as reassuring as he intended it to be.

“Gaius.” Arthur turned to the physician. “We have something to tell you.” 

He felt Morgana stiffen next to him. He sought out her eyes, silently asking for confirmation that they were doing this. Morgana’s nod was subtle, her eyes clouded with apprehension. She shifted her elbow out of Arthur’s grasp and took his hand in hers instead. 

Arthur tried to not let his shock show. He nodded back and turned to Gaius. 

“Morgana can see through the glamour.”

Gaius barely blinked, his expression betraying nothing. He flicked his gaze between the two of them, fixing it on Morgana.

“Is that true?” he asked calmly.

Morgana replied with a shaky “Yes.”

Gaius hummed, then said, “I see.”

“You’re not surprised,” Arthur pointed out. 

He knew Gaius was level-headed, it was part of his profession to keep calm at all times, but this was a little too calm considering the circumstances. 

“Gaius,” he said lowly. “Did you know?”

“I had my suspicions,” Gaius admitted, like it was nothing to get worked up about. 

“You had-” Arthur sputtered, indignation rising inside him with alarming speed. “How could you not inform us?!”

Morgana was gripping his hand like a vice, and Arthur squeezed back with the same ferocity. 

“I didn’t want to put you in danger. You know how Uther feels about magic.”

“You knew?” Morgana said accusingly. “And you didn’t- I thought I was going insane!”

“I’m so sorry, my Lady,” Gaius replied ruefully. “I didn’t mean to cause harm. Keeping you unaware of your powers seemed to be the lesser evil.”

“I had no one to talk to!” she cried, her grip on Arthur’s hand tightening to the point of being painful, but Arthur kept silent. “I thought I was alone! If I knew that Arthur was like me-”

“No,” Arthur interjected. 

“What?” 

“I… I don’t have magic.” 

Morgana staggered backwards. She snatched her hand back, betrayal flashing across her face. “But you said-”

“It’s complicated,” Arthur said, apologetic. “We still don’t know what caused it.”

He held her gaze, praying she believed he was telling the truth. The moment of quiet staring stretched between them, the air in the room thick with tension. 

“Are you sure?” Morgana eventually asked. 

“Quite,” Arthur said, then added in a rush when Morgana curled in on herself, closing herself off. “It’s alright, Morgana. You can still talk to me. I want you to talk to me. Your secret is safe with me. You’re not alone.”

“I am,” she sobbed. “I am alone. There’s no one else who-” She sniffled. “Who’s like me.”

The words were out of Arthur’s mouth before he knew what he was saying. “That’s not true.”

“Arthur,” Gaius said, voice laced with warning. “I need to speak with you.”

Arthur gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Just a moment.” 

Gaius led them to Merlin’s room.

“Gaius-”

“You must not tell anyone!” Gaius said fiercely. 

“But Morgana-”

“No one,” Gaius insisted, his face all hard lines and furrowed brows. 

“Gaius,” Arthur said pleadingly. “She’s afraid. And Merlin must be too. Why would you keep them in the dark? They can have each other. Learn from each other.”

Did Merlin know about Morgana? Had he been keeping quiet on purpose? Gaius had said the only other person who knew about him was Lancelot, and he had been gone for years. Apart from Gaius, Merlin had no one to talk to about his powers. And he lived in a kingdom where magic was punishable by death. How lonely was that? How scary? 

“Merlin’s and Morgana’s powers are vastly different,” Gaius explained.

Arthur didn’t see the difference. “It’s still magic.”

“Arthur,” Gaius said threateningly.

“Please,” Arthur begged. “Gaius. Maybe… maybe Morgana could help.”

“That’s unlikely.” Gaius was quick to disagree, a shadow falling over his face momentarily. “She has no understanding of her powers.”

“Then let’s change that.” At seeing the protest on the tip of Gaius’ tongue, Arthur added a desperate “Please.”

It felt like ages of withstanding Gaius’ calculating stare, but Arthur didn’t look away. Finally, Gaius let his eyes slide shut, exhaling the deepest sigh. He didn’t say anything but Arthur knew he’d come to a decision.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at Gaius’ annoyed huff. 

They returned to the main chamber, finding Morgana kneeling at Merlin’s cot. 

“Arthur?” Morgana startled, her eyes jumping nervously between him and Gaius. 

Arthur approached her slowly, lowering himself to the floor next to her, his armour clinking as he did. 

“There’s something you should know,” he started, sharing a look with Gaius. “But you must not tell anyone. No one can know about your magic.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Morgana barked irritatedly. 

“Right. Sorry,” Arthur said sheepishly. He inhaled deeply, sparing a fleeting glance in Merlin’s direction. “Merlin. He- He has magic, too.” 

God, it was still so strange to say it out loud. He’d thought he was over it already, but evidently he was wrong. His world had been flipped upside down with the first flash of gold in Merlin’s eyes. And he hadn’t even had the chance to talk about it. There were still so many questions, so many secrets to unravel. Hell, Arthur had a whole list. But all that could wait. Merlin’s survival was a priority. So was Morgana’s safety.

Morgana eyed him like he’d grown a second head, then turned her gaze to Merlin, just as wide-eyed. “He does?”

Arthur nodded, but Morgana sought confirmation from Gaius. 

“It’s true, my Lady,” Gaius said, more than a little apprehensive. 

Morgana’s hands came up to cover her mouth. She let out a sob. “Oh my God.” 

Arthur shuffled closer, sliding an arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him with something like realisation. 

“Since when-”

“Since he got injured,” Arthur replied, feeling his eyes sting at the memory. “He saved my life, using magic.”

“Oh, Arthur.”

“His condition is not worsening, but he’s not getting better either,” Arthur went on before Morgana could start talking about feelings. “Gaius gave me the grimoire-” Gaius coughed pointedly. “Let me borrow the grimoire to study it,” Arthur corrected. “I don’t know if there’s something that magic can do to help, but I want to find out. He saved my life, Morgana. I can’t let him die.”

She nodded vigorously, eyes glistening but determined.“We’ll find a way. You and I, and Gaius, we’ll find a way to save him.”

It surprised Arthur how much he liked the sound of that. He’d do anything to save Merlin, but knowing he didn’t have to do it alone quelled his fears considerably. 

Morgana leaned in to hug him and Arthur didn’t even try to protest, letting himself be comforted in return. 

She pulled away and ruffled his hair, laughing at his scowl. She patted his cheek, smiling gently. “It’s our secret.”

 ***

Merlin was in the middle of one of his rants, as per usual. Arthur wasn’t even listening. He’d heard it all before - sparring was stupid and violent; horseplay wasn’t a real thing, it was just a euphemism for bullying; all the fighting was only because they were insecure in their masculinity - and so on and so forth.

Merlin also never forgot to complain about the damage Arthur’s armour had suffered, and how it would take ages to repair it again. 

Arthur was more interested in the mesmerizing way Merlin’s hands were working on pulling said armour off him, his long, deft fingers undoing the fastenings with remarkable speed. 

Arthur loved those hands, large and warm, calloused by years of hard work. Still, they were so much gentler than Morgana’s smaller, delicate ones. It shouldn’t be possible - Merlin’s hands should be rough and ruthless, and yet they were anything but. Arthur was never letting Morgana’s hands near him again. 

Why had he let her in the first place?

The realisation hit him like a bucket of cold water. 

He was dreaming again. 

And suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to listen to Merlin’s relentless prattle, painfully aware that when he woke up, it would be gone. 

“I don’t care if you lot think it’s honourable,” Merlin carried on, speaking so fast the words almost blended together. “You’re just making yourself stupid with getting your heads bashed in repeatedly. Soon, you won’t have any-”

A wave of longing washed over Arthur, suffocating in its intensity. He grasped Merlin’s wrist, stilling his movements. Merlin frowned at their joined hands, lifting his gaze to Arthur’s with a silent question. 

“Arthur?”

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, exasperation and affection battling for dominance. He pulled at Merlin’s wrist, and Merlin went wide-eyed, stumbling into Arthur’s chest with a not-at-all cute yelp. “Shut up.”

And before he could change his mind, Arthur surged forward, claiming Merlin’s lips in a desperate kiss. He swallowed Merlin’s startled gasp and released his wrists. He snaked one arm around Merlin’s waist, his other hand grabbing Merlin by the neck, keeping him in place, keeping him close. 

He moaned into Merlin’s mouth, or maybe it was a sob. He didn’t know, but he knew that a dream had no right to feel this good, this real. Merlin’s body heat seeped into him, warming him to his core more than any fire. Arthur could even smell him - the familiar scent of dried herbs and fresh sweat attacking his senses. 

This time it was definitely a moan that escaped him, and this time Merlin returned it. Hands that had been trapped between their bodies curled around Arthur’s neck, those long, slender fingers carding through his hair. 

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath when Merlin’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip, licking into his parted mouth like he was dying for a taste. Arthur shuddered against him, running the tip of his tongue experimentally over Merlin’s lips in return, pleased when Merlin hummed his appreciation. He did it again, and again, until the dream faded away and the only thing that remained was this moment - Merlin in his arms, clinging to Arthur with the same desperation Arthur had kissed him with. 

Something wet ran down Arthur’s cheeks, and he realised he was crying only when Merlin pulled away, frowning in concern and wiping the salty streaks away.  

“Arthur?”

Arthur let out a whimper, burying his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck. 

“Merlin. God, Merlin. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he panted. “I’ll find a way, I promise.”

“What-”

“I miss you,” he said rushedly. He didn’t have the courage to say it in the real world, and even if he did it was too late. He’d missed his chance, so many chances. “I miss your mindless chatter and your insolent mouth. When I wake up, I’m going to make this right. I’m getting you back, whatever it takes, however long it takes.” 

But God, he hoped it would be sooner rather than later. How much time did he even have?

In his arms, Merlin grew taut like a bow, pushing Arthur away in panic. “Arthur!”

“What’s wrong?” 

Merlin stared at him in disbelief, a reluctant smile stretching his lips. “Is that you?”

Arthur squinted at him. “Are you daft?” God, was he really going to argue with a figment of his imagination? Apparently, yes. 

“Oi. You’re such a prat.” Merlin scowled. “Arthur. I think… I don’t think this is just a dream.”

“What?”

“It’s me,” Merlin said, pointing at himself with a trembling finger. “I’m not… I’m not just a product of your imagination. I’m really here.” 

Arthur huffed a humourless laugh, but Merlin’s somber glare shut him up.

“How could you- That’s impossible.”

Merlin’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again but nothing came out. He looked around himself frantically, and stilled. 

“Oh, Arthur,” he said slowly, remorsefully. “There’s something I have to tell you. Something I did.” 

Arthur held his breath, dread settling heavily in his gut. “What is it?” 

Merlin’s face twisted into a tortured expression. “Please, don’t be mad.”

“Merlin. Tell me,” Arthur ordered, softening his voice. “Whatever it is, if it helps me save you, I need to know.”

He forgot to breathe at the way Merlin gazed at him with complete, undisguised adoration. His hands cradled Arthur’s face, as warm and gentle as Arthur had imagined them to be. Merlin brought their foreheads together, blue boring into blue. 

He ran his thumb over Arthur’s parted lips, and whispered, “You already saved me.”

And Arthur was falling, darkness swallowing him, cold seeping into his bones. 

“Merlin!”

“Arthur.”

“What-”

His eyes shot open, adjusting to the light. Morgana was leaning over him, the space between her brows pinched with worry. 

“You were screaming Merlin’s name.”

“Oh.” He ran his hand over his mouth, fluttering his eyes shut at the memory of Merlin’s lips against his, soft, and warm and… real. “Morgana,” he said with urgency, lifting himself to a sitting position. “There’s something I need to tell Gaius.”

“What?” She angled herself to sit on the bed, but Arthur ushered her away, swinging his legs over the edge. 

“I’ll tell you both when we get there.”

***

“So,” Gaius said slowly. “You had a dream about Merlin.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He went through the description of his not-dream briskly, not stopping until he was finished, and Gaius hadn’t interrupted him. But evidently, he didn’t get it. 

“No. I had a dream and Merlin was there.”

“I’m…not sure I understand.”

“Merlin!” Arthur cried, pointing erratically in Merlin’s direction. He looked the exact same as he had yesterday, but Arthur knew what had happened. He knew what he’d felt. What Merlin had felt like. “Actual Merlin was there! Not a part of my imagination. But Merlin!”

Gaius exchanged a look with Morgana, who sat quietly next to Arthur, a thoughtful but conflicted expression on her face. 

“I know some dreams may seem very vivid, but-” Gaius started. 

“No. It was him, I’m certain,” Arthur said resolutely. “He said something. He said he’d done something and begged me not to get upset.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I woke up before he could tell me.”

Morgana stiffened in her seat, shooting Arthur a guilty look and Arthur hurried to comfort her. 

“It’s okay. Not your fault.”

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t argue. 

“Nothing?” Gaius asked. 

Arthur shook his head. “I told him I wanted to save him.” He blushed, looking at his hands. “And he said…he said I’d already saved him.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it meant.”

“If you’re right, you’ll get another chance to ask him tonight,” Morgana offered, giving him an encouraging smile. 

“I can’t wait that long. I need to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I still haven’t looked through the whole grimoire.”

“That will take days,” Morgana pointed out. 

“The sooner I start, the better,” Arthur replied and stood up, intending to get the grimoire from his chambers. He had to think of an excuse to avoid training today. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. 

“I can’t stay much longer. Uther wanted me to join him for a ride,” Morgana said, voice laced with fear, as though she expected Uther to find out about her magic out of nowhere. 

“That’s okay.” Arthur squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Arthur-”

“Don’t worry about me.”

***

Arthur muffled a frustrated cry into the grimoire, then let it drop to the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed at his temples. He’d had his nose buried in the damn book the whole morning and most of the afternoon, his headache intensifying with each word he read. 

Pulling his knees to his chest, he dropped his head into the cradle of his arms. He leaned back against Merlin’s cot, curling himself into a ball. It’d been days and he’d achieved nothing. He was no closer to bringing Merlin back, not even with the help of magic. He was useless. 

There was a squeaking sound as the door opened. Arthur didn’t lift his head, but judging by the clapping sound of shoes on the floor, it wasn’t Gaius. 

A gentle hand swept briefly through his hair, and Morgana dropped to the floor next to him. She pulled at his hair, prompting him to look up. He blinked at her, unfocused. She raised her other hand, holding out a plate of bread and cheese. He accepted it without protest. He wasn’t hungry, despite not having eaten since last night. Morgana knew that, but experience said it was bound to be less painful if he just did what she wanted. 

“Thank you,” he said, tearing off a chunk of bread and popping it in his mouth. It tasted of nothing. 

“How is it going?” she asked, eyeing the grimoire laying at Arthur’s feet. 

At Arthur’s lack of reply, she leaned against him, the corners of her mouth curled downwards. 

“Arthur…”

“Morgana, what if-” Arthur choked. “What if I can’t-”

“Don’t,” she said, voice like steel. “We’ll figure this out. You’ll get your annoying manservant back. I promise you that.” 

Arthur almost laughed, he felt it itching at the back of his throat but it never made it out. Morgana ruffled his hair again, snickering when he batted her hand away. 

She reached for the grimoire, picking it up gingerly. It reminded Arthur of the first time he’d touched the book, expecting to go up in flames at the contact. 

He let Morgana flip through the pages, starting where he’d left off. He shoved the food in his mouth absentmindedly, merely interested in filling his stomach. 

He set the empty plate on the floor and twisted his body around. He’d been avoiding looking at Merlin the whole day. It was getting harder to avoid the feeling of tremendous guilt, or - even worse - desire. Now that he knew that the dream hadn’t been a dream at all - or maybe it had, but Merlin had been real - that Merlin hadn’t pushed him away, that Merlin had wanted it just as much, he could hardly control himself. 

Even in his current state, Merlin looked ethereal, like a creature of myths. Looking back on it, Arthur couldn’t believe it had never crossed his mind that Merlin was a sorcerer. Everything about him screamed magic , from the unusual, mesmerizing features to his inexplicable charm. Now that Arthur knew, it was unmistakable.

“Arthur,” Morgana said, and the tone of her voice had Arthur brace himself. “Did you say Merlin murmured a spell before he lost consciousness?”

Arthur had told Morgana the truth about the ambush and what had happened after their group had been separated. He had hoped that she might think of something neither he or Gaius had, but no such luck. 

“I think that’s what it was,” he agreed, turning back to face her. “Nothing happened, though. His eyes just glowed and then…”

“What?”

“I felt something.” He frowned, struggling to remember. He’d been so freaked out he couldn’t tell if he hadn’t just imagined it. “A rush of warmth. And then it was gone and Merlin was…” He trailed off. 

Morgana was frowning at the book, biting her lip. 

“Could it be that Merlin bound himself to you?”

“What?” Arthur blurted, nonplussed. 

In lieu of a reply, Morgana turned the book to show him the page she'd been looking at. Arthur scanned over the words swiftly, breath hitching the further he read. 

“That’s… why would he do that?”

It might have been a sign when Gaius chose that moment to return, carrying a tuft of plants. 

“Gaius!” Arthur yelled, startling the old man.

“What happened?” Gaius turned towards them, rushing to Merlin’s side. 

“I think we found something,” Morgana said, offering the grimoire to him. 

Releasing a relieved breath, Gaius reached for the book, squinting. His eyes gradually widened and he started to nod. 

“Of course. Yes, that…that could be it.”

“But how?” Arthur demanded. “Doesn’t a bond go both ways? If he’s bound to me, I’m bound to him, right?”

The idea wasn’t as scary as it should be. He’d always felt connected to Merlin in a way. Maybe not in a magical sense, but there was something between them, something Arthur couldn’t put his finger on.

“That’s right,” Gaius agreed, walking to the table with the book. Arthur and Morgana followed him, sitting down in their respective chairs.

“Wouldn’t he need, like…my consent or something?” Arthur wondered. 

He trusted Merlin. Despite having been lied to for years, he still trusted him. Merlin had saved his life, sacrificing himself in the process. But the possibility that magic could do something like this without his knowledge was unnerving nonetheless. If it had been anyone but Merlin...

“Yes. But it doesn’t need to be verbal. You might have accepted the bond on a subconscious level.” 

“That would explain why you can see through the glamour!” Morgana pointed out excitedly.

“Does it…” Arthur faltered. “If that’s true, does it mean I have magic?” God, his father would have him hung!

“No,” Gaius replied, and Arthur could breathe again. “I doubt Merlin would be able to perform such a spell.”

“Well, he performed this one.”

“It’s rather simple. All he needed was your permission.”

“I didn't-” Arthur started, and froze. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I’ll stay with you for as long as you want me to.”

“I always want you to.” 

“Always?” 

“Always.”

He was such a giant clotpole. All this time, the explanation had been staring him in his face!

“I might have given it. In a way,” he admitted sheepishly. “Why would he bind himself to me, though?”

Why would anyone bind himself to Arthur? 

“To stay alive,” Gaius offered. “It’s…” He hesitated, peering at Arthur tentatively. “Not unlike soulbond.”

“Soulbond?” Arthur gawked. “That exists?”

“Of course. But that’s way more complicated and might result in unforeseen consequences. This is different.” He tapped his finger against his chin. “The nature of this bond is more…mental than spiritual. And my guess would be that as long as you live, Merlin doesn't die.”

A mental bond. That would explain the dream-sharing. Arthur wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, but if it gave him a chance to talk to Merlin, he would take it. 

“So he doesn't die but he’s not going to wake up, either,” he conceded with open dislike. 

Gaius shook his head.

“What’s the point then?!” Arthur yelled, throwing his hands in the air. 

He glared in Merlin’s direction, fighting the urge to go over there and shake him awake, make him explain how his stupid brain worked. 

“I think you’ll need to ask Merlin that,” Gaius suggested. 

Great. Communicating through dreams. How convenient. He was so going to give Merlin a piece of his mind. 

“I’ll need some of that sleeping draught of yours,” Arthur announced without preamble.

Gaius’ expression darkened, a warning in his eyes. “Arthur, I don’t recommend-”

“Just to deepen my sleep,” Arthur interrupted. “I don’t want to wake up before I’ve figured out how this works.”

He returned Gaius’ stare determinedly. So far, his dreams had been over before he could get a proper answer. And the sooner he spoke to Merlin and found out how to save him, the better. 

Finally, Gaius’ shoulders slumped in resignation. He walked over to the cabinet filled with vials and jars, picking up one filled with clear liquid. 

Arthur opened his mouth to protest when Gaius offered it to him. Surely he needed more than that. But at Gaius’ raised eyebrow, the complaint died on his tongue. 

“I’ll give you this and no more,” Gaius said with finality, and Arthur begrudgingly accepted the tonic. 

“Thanks.”

This would have to do.

***

Behind him, Geraint told an old, sexist joke that made all of the knights chortle, while Leon only laughed nervously. Arthur was sure that if he turned around, he would find him flushed to the tips of his ears. 

Thinking about ears made him think of Merlin. Merlin, who was riding beside him, nose scrunched up in distaste at the inappropriate joke. He looked at Arthur, long-suffering. 

“See? I told you.”

“Told me what?”

“That all that so-called horseplay would turn your brains into mush. Even your jokes are weak.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin could be so dramatic. The knights had their own kind of humour. Of course Merlin, a simple village boy, wouldn’t understand. 

Arthur was about to tell him as much when Merlin’s words made something in him click. He squeezed his thighs together, gripping the reins, and his horse came to a sudden stop, Merlin’s following suit.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, astonished.

“What?” Merlin’s brows were drawn together in worry. He looked at Arthur, then around like he was checking for any signs of upcoming danger. His eyes bulged out and he stuttered.

“Where did they go?”

“What?” Arthur twisted in the saddle to look over his shoulder, only momentarily baffled before he reminded himself this was just a dream. Well, most of it.

“We’re dreaming,” he said to Merlin, who was still gaping at where the knights had been riding behind them, finding nothing but a vast expanse of trees.

“Oh.”

His gaze shifted to Athur, just as wide and more than a little anxious. 

He was scared. Of Arthur.

Arthur ignored the stabbing ache in his chest, and said, as calmly as he could, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Merlin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, taking staggering breaths through his mouth.

“I suppose we do,” he said, defeated. 

Arthur didn’t want to do it like this. Not on horseback. Not when he couldn’t reach over and pull Merlin to himself, to make sure he wasn’t going to disappear on him.

But this was Arthur’s dream, he realised. He must have some control over it, right?

As if answering his thoughts, the scenery shifted around them, and they found themselves on their feet, a lake stretching in front of them. Arthur didn’t recognise the place, but couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been here before. 

He turned to Merlin, who was staring dumbstruck at the lake.

“You bound yourself to me,” Arthur said. It wasn’t a question. 

Immediately, Merlin froze. He looked at Arthur guiltily, dropping his gaze. 

“How did you find out?”

So they were right. 

“The grimoire,” he said. “And with Morgana and Gauis’ help.”

Merlin’s jaw practically hit the ground. “How do you know about the grimoire?”

Arthur frowned. He’d thought Merlin would know. “I can see through the glamour.” 

Merlin let out a bark of hysterical laugh.“You can’t. You-”

“Don’t have magic? No,” Arthur confirmed. “But you do. And there’s a bond between us, yeah?” 

“I didn't know,” Merlin said, sounding genuinely confused. His eyes snapped back to Arthur, wide and disbelieving. “Wait. Did you say Morgana?”

It was only fair that Merlin knew, since Arthur had told Morgana about him, right? “She has magic. And she knows about you,” he confessed, a little sheepish. 

Merlin bit his lip, troubled, and Arthur rushed to reassure him.

“She’s trying to help. Merlin, you’re dying.”

“I’m not,” Merlin replied. “I’m just-”

“If you’re not waking up you might as well be dying,” Arthur snapped, taking a step closer. Merlin went slightly cross-eyed. “Why would you do this? You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

Merlin’s chin dropped to his chest, and that was an answer in and of itself. 

“I didn’t know the specifics,” he said pleadingly. “I’ve never used the spell before. I didn’t know my magic would affect you like that.”

“You knew you would stay alive but never wake up, though.”

The nod was subtle, but it was there. Arthur couldn’t control himself. He grabbed Merlin by the shoulders, the furthest from gentle, shaking him like a ragdoll. 

“You idiot!” 

“It was the only way!” Merlin defended, eyes full of righteous anger and shining with tears. “I just wanted to stay with you!”

“You should have listened to me,” Arthur argued, even as he felt the anger bleed out of him at Merlin’s defeated expression and broken-sounding words. “You should've run.” 

Merlin’s shoulders loosened under his hands, the hard lines of his face smoothing out into a woeful smile. 

“I’d never leave you,” he said, quiet. 

“You need to wake up, Merlin.” Arthur sniffled, blinking back tears. “You need to… I… I need you.”

Merlin let out a low chuckle, incongruous with the way he looked at Arthur like he was watching a sunrise. 

“Can’t get yourself dressed, huh?”

“Shut up,” Arthur shot back, but something inside him unclenched. “I’m perfectly able to get dressed, thank you very much."

Merlin chuckled again, then whimpered, “Arthur-”

“Don’t,” Arthur ordered. “We’re not talking about this now.”

Arthur wasn’t ready to face the truth - actually face it. Face Merlin. He may not hate magic, but Merlin had been lying to him. They would have to talk about it. But not now. Not when Merlin’s life was hanging by a thread.  

“When you wake up, when I get you back, you’ll get an earful for lying to me for years. And I’ll have you do so many chores your hands will go numb and you’ll beg for my forgiveness. But not now.”

Merlin looked adequately chastised, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that looked a lot like hope. 

“What do we do now?” 

“Well, first,” Arthur said. “You shut up.”

Merlin’s mouth quirked up, the movement barely perceivable. He licked his lips, peering up at Arthur from under his eyelashes.

“And then?” he asked with a quiver, and it didn’t sound like it was from fear.

“And then…” Arthur took the final step, his armour pressing against Merlin’s chest. He felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath. “I’ll kiss you.”

“Okay.” Merlin didn’t seem to be able to stop the slow stretch of his lips. “That sounds like a good deal.”

“You’re impossible,” Arthur huffed, feeling warmth in his cheeks despite his indignation.

“You’re a prat,” Merlin shot back, his grin unwavering.

“Merlin...”

“Shut up?”

“You guessed it.”

And finally, Arthur kissed that infuriating, breathtaking smile away. 

***

“I could stay like this.” Merlin’s voice was muffled from where he was resting his cheek on Arthur’s chest, threading their fingers together. 

“Absolutely not,” Arthur said resolutely, despite everything in him screaming Yes! “Merlin, you need to wake up.”

Merlin sighed, burrowing his face in Arthur’s tunic. His armour had long since disappeared into nothing. 

“I know. Need to look after you. You wouldn’t last a day without me.”

Protest on the tip of his tongue, Arthur faltered, replaying Merlin’s words. “What do you mean?”

Merlin stiffened in his arms, hesitating. “I’m just teasing you.”

“I don’t think so.” Arthur pushed himself up onto his elbows, earning a disgruntled whine from Merlin. “Gaius told me some things, but not a lot. He said I should hear it from you. There’s something neither of you are telling me.”

“It’s not important.”

“I think it is.” Arthur propped a finger under Merlin’s chin when Merlin stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. “Merlin.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Then make it short.”

“Clotpole.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said exasperatedly. He wasn’t about to take the bait and engage in their usual banter, though Merlin was doing a good job of trying to steer his focus away.  

“Gods, you can be a right pain in the arse, you know that?” Merlin groaned, pouting. 

“You won’t get a rise out of me. Tell me the truth.”

Merlin pushed himself up until he was sitting cross legged, picking on a blade of grass. Arthur mirrored his position, running a hand soothingly over Merlin’s arm.

“There’s this…prophecy,” Merlin started with great reluctance. 

“About?”

“You. Me.” He caught Arthur’s gaze. “Us.”

“Yeah?” 

Prophecies never meant anything good, but for some reason, Arthur’s stomach fluttered excitedly. He’d probably always known on some level that this…whatever this inexplicable yet undeniable connection between them was, it was more than met the eye. 

“You’re supposed to achieve great things,” Merlin continued with a smile in his voice. “And I’m supposed to protect you while you do it.”

“Protect me,” Arthur echoed, unimpressed, the pleasant flutter ceasing at once, replaced by a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. This is not what he’d thought of when Merlin had mentioned a prophecy. “That includes giving your life up for mine?” Merlin opened his mouth, but Arthur didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Did you- So that’s why you do it? That’s why you stick around?” 

“What?” Merlin said, alarmed. 

“You… you feel obligated to stay?” He felt bile rise in his throat, burning in its wake. 

“No! Arthur, no.” Merlin scrambled over, his hands cupping Arthur’s clenched jaw. “Never. I mean, in the beginning, when we first met. I didn’t want to believe it. You were so full of yourself and I couldn’t understand how such a pompous prat could be my destiny.” There was a wry curl to his lips as he recalled the memory, and it sent a tendril of warmth through Arthur’s veins. “But I stayed anyway, because… I guess I just wanted to have a purpose. Wanted my magic to have a purpose. But then it changed. It all happened so fast. One minute, I couldn’t stand you and the next I…”

“What?” Arthur asked, breathless.

“I couldn’t stay away from you,” Merlin said with a quake in his voice. “I’d do anything in my power to protect you, always. Whatever it takes.” His eyes were hard as they fixed on Arthur’s, his voice all steel now. “But I’m not doing it because of the prophecy. Not anymore.”

Somewhere deep inside, Arthur already knew the answer, but selfishly he couldn’t not ask, “Why are you doing it?” 

And Merlin must know that Arthur knew, because he just smiled indulgently, whispering into the space between them, “Because I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Arthur made an indecipherable noise in the back of his throat, gripping Merlin’s arms and pulling him closer, into his lap. “Merlin,” he whispered against his neck. “You need to tell me how to save you.”

Once more, Merlin tensed. “I don’t-”

“You’re lying. You know, you just don’t want to tell me. Why?”

“Arthur.” A plea. 

“Why, Merlin?”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Merlin said. It was probably meant to sound authoritative, but came out desperate. “I won’t.”

“Is it…some form of sacrifice?” The thought made his stomach churn, but at the same time, he knew there was very little he wouldn’t be willing to do, no matter the consequences. 

“No. Yes.” Merlin’s arms wrapped around him, holding onto him. “Arthur, please, don’t- There must be another way.” 

“Why would-”

“Arthur!” Merlin cried.  “Just…don’t. Please, don’t.”

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, a plea of his own. 

Merlin’s eyes widened and before either of them could say anything, darkness enveloped them, and Arthur was falling, falling...

“Merlin!”

***

Arthur’d had enough. He was getting Merlin back, uncaring whether he had to let himself be bled dry to satisfy the Gods or whatever ridiculous sacrifice was required of him. 

After he’d called Leon to his chambers to ask him to take over today’s practice and inform his father that Arthur was unwell and wanted to rest, he made his way to Morgana’s chambers to pick up both Morgana and the grimoire. 

He doubted Morgana had found anything useful after she’d borrowed the book from him yesterday - to Gaius’ chagrin - because if she had, she would have been banging- no, barging through his door even if it was in the middle of the night. But Arthur was sure the answer lay in the book. Why else would Merlin beg him not to do something? 

Reaching the hallway leading to Morgana’s chambers, he made an embarrassing noise when someone flew past him, crying and sobbing. 

“Guinevere?” He looked at her incredulously, getting only a tear-filled glance in return before she ran down the staircase. 

“Gwen!” Morgana stormed out of her chambers, panicked and running towards him - after Guinevere. “Gwen, please, wait! Gwen!”

“Morgana.” 

She stopped abruptly, like she'd just noticed him standing there.

“Oh, God, Arthur.” She put a hand over her mouth, looking at Arthur pleadingly. “I… I messed up.” 

“What happened?”

“She saw me doing magic.” Before Arthur could ask, she continued, frantic, “It was just a harmless spell. I was trying to change the colour of my dress and she walked in.” 

Alright. This was a rock in the road Arthur hadn’t seen coming. But it was just Guinevere. Sweet and kind, loyal to Morgana to a fault. She wouldn’t tell Father, Arthur was sure of that. They would get through this. They just had to explain. 

“It’s going to be okay, Morgana.”

“It won’t! Arthur, she-” She shook her head. “You didn’t see the way she looked at me. She was scared of me!”

Arthur wondered if he’d ever looked at Merlin like that. He didn’t think so, but what did it matter what he thought? He had no idea what Merlin had seen in Arthur’s eyes when his magic had been revealed. 

If there was something Arthur knew for sure, it was that he’d never been afraid of Merlin. Of Merlin having magic? Maybe. But only because of what it meant for them. Where did they go from here? 

“She just didn’t know what was happening,” Arthur said, speaking from experience. “We’ll talk to her. You will explain. It will be alright.” It surprised him how much he believed it. But if he and Merlin could work this out, so could Morgana and Guinevere. 

Though doubtful, Morgana nodded her assent and dutifully followed Arthur to Gaius’ quarters. 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that out of all people, Guinevere had come to Gaius.

Arthur spared a woeful, yearning glance for Merlin, before turning his attention elsewhere. 

“Gwen!” Morgana threw herself inside, coming to a halt when Guinevere took a step back, towards Gaius, her expression guarded.  

“M-my Lady,” she said hollowly. 

Arthur saw Morgana flinch and went to stand by her side. 

“What’s the matter?” Gaius asked calmly, resting a hand on Guinevere’s back. 

Taking a shaky breath, Morgana replied, regretful, “Gwen saw me do magic.” 

Guinevere’s eyes widened, maybe from Morgana’s blatant admission, maybe from hearing the confirmation out loud. 

“I see,” Gaius said, stoic as ever. 

Guinevere whipped around to look at him. “Gaius?”

“Why don’t you take a seat, my dear?” he said placatingly, taking her by the shoulders and nudging her into the closest chair. 

“Guinevere, you have nothing to be afraid of,” Arthur said, feeling that he should. He was the Prince, after all. Uther’s son. If anyone should be wary of magic, it was him. “You have my word.”

Although Guinevere’s confusion had only grown, she gave a single nod, curling in on herself. 

“Please, Gwen?” Morgana said softly. “Let me explain.”

Arthur saw Morgana hold her breath, waiting for an answer, then watched as a heavy weight dropped from her shoulders with Gunivere’s reluctant “Alright.”

“Shall we leave you to it?” Arthur asked, feeling out of place. 

Morgana nodded, then spun around to face him. “But I’d rather you stayed close by.”

“Just across the room,” Arthur assured. He hesitated, peeking at Guinevere from the corner of his eye. “Morgana. Maybe don’t…don’t tell everything.” 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Guinevere, but he had no right to reveal Merlin’s secret. Morgana had been an exception, because they needed her. Arthur needed her if he was to save Merlin. And he’d told Merlin, and although the news hadn’t been enthusiastically received, it hadn’t seemed like Merlin was angry about it. 

“Of course,” Morgana agreed easily, probably thinking the same. 

Arthur wished her good luck and nodded to Gaius to move to Merlin’s room, giving Morgana and Guinevere some privacy. 

“How did you sleep, Your Highness?” Gaius asked casually, though it wasn’t.

“We were right,” Arthur said. “It’s a binding spell. And Merlin knows a way for me to wake him up, but he won’t tell me.”

Gaius blinked at him, perplexed. “Why not?”

“I think it comes with a price,” Arthur replied with a sigh. “Something he’s not willing to pay. Something he doesn’t want me to pay.”

Gauis’ gaze nearly burned holes into him. “And you?”

“I don’t care,” Arthur said, confident. “I’ll do anything.” 

“If you’re sure,” Gaius said vaguely, but didn’t share his opinion. 

“I am. I think the answer lies in the book.” Which Arthur still needed to retrieve from Morgana’s chambers. “He begged me not to do it. Which implies I’m able to find out on my own.” 

“What if Merlin has a good reason to not want to do it?”

“Then he should have thought about that before he took a bolt for me,” Arthur growled, feeling his irritation spike. He took a deep breath, then said, much calmer, “I know about the prophecy.”

A pause. “Oh.”

“I don’t care,” Arthur went on, unprompted. “I don’t care about prophecies, or destiny, or what it will cost to bring Merlin back. I only care how I can save him.”

He couldn’t tell whether he only imagined Gaius’ proud, approving expression - not that his disapproval would change anything. But it felt good to have support from at least one sensible person. 

When there was nothing left to say, Arthur let his curiosity win and peeked into the main room, finding Morgana kneeling in front of Guinevere, grasping her hands between both of her own. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he heard Guinevere ask in a broken voice. 

“I was afraid,” Morgana replied. “I still am. No matter that I'm the King’s ward. Being magic? I would be burnt at the stake.”

“Morgana.”

“I wanted to tell you, Gwen. Of all people, you’re the one person I’ve always wanted to tell. You are…” She trailed off, gazing at Guinevere earnestly. “You must know how important you are to me. Gwen, you do know, don’t you?”

“I- I think so,” Guinevere said, ducking her head. Arthur wondered if he’d see her blush if he came closer.  “I… You’re important to me too. Like that.”

Morgana let out a brief, watery laugh. It sounded happy. “I’m so very sorry.”

“No. I am sorry,” Guinevere argued, sliding one hand out only to place it atop Morgana’s. “For how I reacted. You must have thought I hated you.” She sniffled. “Forgive me, my Lady.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Gwen.”

And just like that, they were hugging, sobbing and laughing into each other’s necks. 

Arthur took a minute to process what he’d just seen. It would seem there was another reason for Guinevere’s unshakable loyalty. It would also explain how she managed to tolerate Morgana on a daily basis. 

Arthur should’ve seen it. They were rather perfect for each other. 

He felt a pang in his chest, both from happiness for his two friends, and from the hollow ache left behind by Merlin’s absence. 

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Gauis said next to him. “What love can do.” He looked at Arthur knowingly. 

“It can’t bring Merlin back,” Arthur said, gritting his teeth. He didn’t even have the strength to counter Gaius’ unspoken statement. 

For the first time, Gaius smiled. “How do you know?”

And before Arthur could reply, Gaius pushed past him, entering the main room, Arthur trailing behind. 

“Your Highness,” Guinevere said bashfully, standing up with her head hanging low. 

“Guinevere,” Arthur said with a light-hearted warning. 

Guinevere bit her lip. “Arthur,” she corrected. “The La- Morgana told me what you’re trying to do. Is it safe?” She looked over to where Merlin remained unmoving on the cot. “Using magic to heal Merlin?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Arthur replied tiredly. “That’s why I need Morgana’s help.”

Guinevere nodded, drawing herself tall. “Is there anything I can do?”

Arthur smiled, grateful. “We’ll be alright.”

“I could bring you food,” she suggested, speaking to Morgana. “Using magic must be exhausting.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Gwen. Thank you,” Morgana said sweetly, pushing a stray curl of hair behind Guinevere’s ear who indeed blushed fiercely.

Arthur felt like he was intruding on a private moment. 

Thankfully, Guinevere left after that - after she'd hugged Morgana for a whole minute - and Arthur jumped swiftly into what he’d learnt last night. 

“He didn’t tell you?” Morgana gasped, then scowled. “What an idiot.”

Arthur snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“It would seem we have a lot of reading to do,” Morgana conceded, already standing up and on her way out, no doubt to retrieve the grimoire. 

Arthur turned his head towards Merlin’s supine form, and swept his fringe off his forehead. 

“Indeed.”

***

“I… I think I found it.” Arthur stared dumbstruck at the page, feeling oddly disconnected from his body. The words staring at him were nothing like he'd expected, and yet, when he thought about it in retrospect, this was exactly what he should have expected. 

Next to him, Morgana stirred from her light slumber. Over the past few hours, they had taken turns going through the grimoire, one of them resting when their vision had started to blur. 

“Show me,” she prompted, oblivious to Arthur’s rigid posture, and took the book from his frozen hands. 

Her eyes flicked rapidly over the page, and the further she read, the more the pinch between her brows smoothed out, replaced by surprise. “Oh,” she breathed, tilting her head. “That’s…very romantic.”

Arthur huffed in response, but didn’t have the strength to outright protest. 

Abandoning his task of checking Merlin’s vitals (even though they all knew it was rather unnecessary), Gaius turned to them. “May I have a look?” 

Unlike Morgana, Gaius’ face didn’t give anything away. It was a long, eerily silent minute before he announced, “Ah. Now it makes sense.”

Arthur woke from his apathetic state. “What?” 

“Why Merlin would be apprehensive about this.”

Oh, God, was there an actual sacrifice?

“Is it dangerous?” Arthur asked, turning around to look at Merlin’s serene face.

“Well…” Gaius hesitated. “You might end up in the same situation Merlin’s in.”

“What?” Arthur stared at him. “How’s that supposed to help?!” 

“It’s a soulbond, Arthur,” Gaius explained patiently, with a gentleness that Arthur didn’t usually associate with the old physician. “Remember what I told you about soulbonds?”

Arthur’s heart stuttered against his ribcage at the word.

“That they’re complicated. And may have unforeseen circumstances.”

Gaius nodded, continuing to study the spell. 

“In this case, the circumstances might be that the bond either saves Merlin’s life or destroys yours.” 

Morgana grabbed Arthur’s elbow, eyes wide and scared. He hoped the look he gave her was more comforting than nervous.

“I don’t understand,” he said, mind reeling. Why couldn’t magic be straightforward? 

Gaius sighed, like he was expecting Arthur to back out. “Arthur. This spell…if it works, you’ll be connected to Merlin for life. If one of you dies…”

“But Merlin’s not dead,” Morgana interjected, frowning deeply.

“But he was dying. The only thing keeping him alive is Arthur.” 

Yeah, because we have some sort of a mental connection, Arthur thought sardonically. “The soulbond is stronger, though, right? Doesn’t it mean he’ll wake up?” 

“This spell would cancel the first one,” Gaius said, and Arthur’s stomach dropped. “There can’t be two bonds in place. The stronger magic will undo the inferior one. There’s no telling what will happen when the first bond ceases to exist.” 

“So, if Arthur does this, his and Merlin’s lives will be forever tied together,” Morgana concluded, and now she sounded almost pleased. 

“I imagine if one of you is injured, the other will share the wound. Like an echo,” Gaius continued, squinting at the book. 

“You imagine…” Arthur parroted with open disbelief. Was he going to risk his life based on a hypothesis? 

Yes, he was.

“I’ve never seen the spell at work,” Gaius replied, sounding a little offended. “But that would be my guess, based on the description.”

Raising an eyebrow in true Gaius' fashion, Arthur looked at Morgana. “Still think it’s romantic?”

Morgana shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. “It’s not unlike a marriage.”

“Morgana!” Arthur gasped, horrified. He felt his face burn and knew there was no way it would escape Morgana’s attention. 

“What?” Morgana laughed, eyes sparkling with what Arthur had come to recognise as mischief. “In marriage, you bind yourself to the other person. This is just…a little more literal.”

Arthur scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Great. Bloody wonderful.”

“You don’t have to do this Arthur,” Gaius reminded him, his voice weak. 

Rolling his eyes, because he couldn’t not, Arthur said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Gaius. Of course I will do it.”

“You will?”

It should be insulting that Gaius seemed genuinely taken aback.

“Of course I will,” Arthur repeated, trying not to sulk. This was Merlin, for crying out loud. Arthur had yet to find something he wouldn’t do for him. 

It was equal parts mind-blowing and scary as hell. 

Arthur groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “God, Father will have my head.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Morgana said, resolute, “He won’t find out.”

“I bloody hope not,” Arthur grumbled, refusing to imagine what fate he would face if Uther did find out. “Gaius. What do we need?”

Another brief look at the book and then Gaius said, “You. Merlin.” He turned to Morgana. “And a sorcerer.”

Drawing herself tall, as much as she could while sitting on the floor, Morgana said, “I’m ready.”

Gaius nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. “And something to seal the bond.”

Arthur frowned. “Like what?”

Leaning into his space, Morgana whispered all too loudly, “Like a wedding ring.”

“Morgana!”

“Could be,” Gaius said, as if the notion wasn’t appalling. “You will need something of Merlin’s and he will need something of yours. Those items will be blessed with the union.”

Ignoring his heated cheeks - because he wouldn’t give Morgana the satisfaction -  Arthur asked, “What happens if they get damaged, or broken?”

“They won’t. Not unless…” 

Not unless one of you dies , went unsaid, but the solemn silence suddenly growing around them confirmed they all knew. 

“That’s it?” Arthur asked. It came out only a little sarcastic.

“Morgana will have to perform the spell.”

“My pleasure,” Morgana said with feigned seriousness. “We have gathered here today-”

“You’re a right pain in my backside, you know that?” Arthur growled, which only made her laugh. Of course it did, the little harpy. 

Shaking his head - and he did not smile - Arthur rose to his feet. “Let’s do it.”

“Now?” Gaius asked, baffled. 

“Now. I don’t want to waste any more time.” He turned around to face Merlin, the feeling of being utterly lost slamming into him all over again as he watched Merlin’s expressionless face. “What should I do?”

“It doesn’t say,” Gaius asked, and Arthur imagined him squinting at the book. 

“Maybe hold his hand?” Morgana suggested. Arthur answered her with a scolding expression. “I mean it! You’re going to be connected for life. Might as well hold his bloody hand.”

Arthur hated that she was right. She didn’t even know what had happened in the dreams, and Arthur didn’t want to imagine how unbearable she would become if she found out.

But yes, she was right, Arthur had to admit. And though no one knew what he and Merlin had got up to in the dreams, Arthur’s steadfast determination to save Merlin regardless of the consequences must have given him away either way. 

“Fine,” he said snappily, shoulders slumping in defeat. He lowered himself to his knees, reaching for Merlin’s hand. He pressed his lips together at the unnaturally cold feel of it. All of a sudden he wanted nothing more than to feel the heat of Merlin’s body again, revel in the warm, slick slide of Merlin’s mouth against his. 

“And the tokens?” Gaius reminded him. “To represent the union?”

“Oh.” His gaze fell on the naked skin of Merlin’s neck. It felt strange. “Merlin’s neckerchief.”

Morgana snorted. “Of course.”

Glaring at her from the corner of his eye, Arthur remained silent, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the top of Merlin’s hand. 

Gaius had disappeared to Merlin’s room, coming back a minute later and carrying one of Merlin’s red neckerchiefs. 

Arthur reached out before Gaius had even offered him the garment. 

Arthur wrapped the scarf around his left hand, suppressing a shiver at how good, how right, it felt to have something of Merlin’s, knowing it would be his forever. 

If the spell worked. 

And if they both survived it.

Scouring his mind for what he could give Merlin in return, Arthur’s eyes shifted from the scarf to his thumb. His heart skipped a beat at what he knew he was about to do, but the sense of right remained, buzzing under his skin. 

“Arthur,” Morgana gasped, watching, perplexed, as Arthur slid the ring from his thumb, placing it on Merlin’s right one. “That’s-”

“My mother’s ring, yes,” Arthur said grouchily, making peace with the fact that his face had turned permanently red and would never regain its normal colour. “Now, would you kindly get on with it?”

Rolling her eyes as though Arthur was being the difficult one, Morgana beckoned for Gaius to hand over the grimoire. Taking it from Gaius, she shifted bodily until she was directly facing both Arthur and Merlin. 

Looking at her with the open book in her hands, Arthur shook away the stray thought that she indeed did look as though she was about to marry them. 

Thankfully, that was when she cleared her throat, and, with a deep breath, she began the incantation.

“ Be þæm sunnan ond þæm monan, be þæm lyfte ond þæm sæ, an sawol bindaþ sawle, gangan ætgædere, feran ætgædere, orþian ætgædere, swa swa þam eaggemearc, twegan an gewierþ, þa hwa bið an nu oðres hæfþ.” 

At some point, Arthur had closed his eyes, thinking it would help him focus on any changes, however subtle, in Merlin’s condition. Maybe he would feel the spell work physically, like he had when Merlin had cast the first binding spell, though he hadn’t known back then what it meant.

But nothing happened - there was no rush of warmth, no tingling sensation. 

“Do you feel anything?” Morgana asked, watching him curiously. 

“No,” he said, voice thick. “I don’t think it worked.” 

It was obvious nothing had changed, but Arthur still pressed two gentle fingers to Merlin’s neck, unsurprised but still defeated when it was as faint and slow as before. 

“Gaius?” Morgana called, turning the grimoire towards the physician. 

Gaius stepped forward. “A moment.” It was longer than a moment, but eventually, he said, “Oh, my mistake. You need to give your permission.”

Wait, hadn’t Gaius said before that it was enough to give permission subconsciously? And anyways, Arthur had already given his permission, why did he need to do it again?

“But-”

“This is different from the first spell, I told you before.”

“Fine.” Arthur huffed. Was there nothing logical about magic at all? “I give my permission to be bound to Merlin.” He paused. “For life.” 

His words echoed in his ears, and in that moment, the reality of what he was doing finally crashed into him. 

It was the most peculiar thing when instead of feeling himself be overcome with resentment and apprehension, he felt something inside him shift into place. As though Merlin was the missing piece he’d been looking for all his life without knowing something had been amiss. 

And for once, he didn’t care what he looked like, what Morgana or anyone else would think. Reaching out with his left hand, Merlin’s scarf wrapped snugly around it, he brushed the back of his fingers over Merlin’s pale cheek. 

“I accept the bond.” Then in a whisper. “I accept you, Merlin.” 

Spinning the book to its previous position, Morgana repeated the incantation. 

“ Be þæm sunnan ond þæm monan, be þæm lyfte ond þæm sæ, an sawol bindaþ sawle, gangan ætgædere, feran ætgædere, orþian ætgædere, swa swa þam eaggemearc, twegan an gewierþ, þa hwa bið an nu oðres hæfþ.” 

Arthur kept his eyes open this time, and though they were fixed on Merlin, he couldn’t help but notice the golden light filling Morgana’s eyes. Not just a flash, but a steady, burning light - golden, yet different from Merlin’s. 

How far had he come, being able to tell apart different tones of gold in sorcerers.

Morgana’s eyes had regained their grass-green colour, but Merlin’s state remained unchanged. 

“Damn,” Arthur cursed, feeling himself welling up. “Why is it not working? Do I need to do a blood oath?! Or kiss him like a princess?!”

“Well-” Morgana started, but Arthur cut her short, absolutely not in the mood.

“Don’t.”

“I’m afraid we will need Merlin’s consent as well,” came Gaius’ reply. 

“How the hell are we going to do that?!”

“In your dream,” Morgana said, like it was obvious. “When you fall asleep, I’ll perform the spell again. Meanwhile, you’ll find Merlin in your dreamscape and get his permission by any means necessary.” She gave Arthur a meaningful look.

“I can’t exactly make him give it,” Arthur protested. It wasn’t that easy. And Merlin was bloody stubborn. 

“You can be persuasive,” Morgana said suggestively, making Arthur want to scream in frustration. Did he have to do everything by himself?!

“Gaius,” he barked, uncaring that he was being rude.

“Yes, yes, the sleeping draught.” Gaius gave a deep sigh, obviously as exhausted by the whole ordeal as Arthur. “Right away, my Lord.”

“You should lie next to him,” Morgana said when Gaius handed Arthur the small jar of clear liquid. 

“The cot hardly fits his skinny bottom, how am I supposed to do that?” 

“Merlin’s bed-”

“No way. And it’s just as narrow, anyway.”

“The floor, then.”

“The fl-” Arthur stared, mouth agape. “You must be joking.”

Morgana rolled her eyes, glaring at him condescendingly. “Is your royal backside too sensitive?”

Biting the inside of his cheek to hold back the cascade of colourful names he wanted to call Morgana, Arthur turned to Merlin pleadingly. “You better wake up, Merlin. We both better do.” 

They worked together to move Merlin gently to the floor, stuffing a pillow under his head and throwing a thin blanket over him. 

Arthur downed the potion at once, then stretched himself out alongside Merlin, settling on his left side. He ran his hand down Merlin’s arm until he reached his hand. His fingers swept over the ring, making Arthur smile despite the dire situation. 

Threading their fingers together, Arthur gave Morgana a stiff nod.

“You’ll be okay. Both of you,” she said, uncharacteristically fond. “Trust me on this.”

“I trust you,” Arthur found himself saying, shocked at how true it was. 

“Sweet dreams,” she said, patting Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur let his eyelids slide shut, not feeling particularly tired but willing to try. Sure enough, it was only a few minutes before he felt his body grow heavy, his mind drifting, jumping from one nonsensical thought to another. 

His eyes fluttered open and he squinted into the direct sunlight. Raising his arm to shield his face, he turned to his side, finding Merlin smiling dopily at him.

“Merlin.” 

The world around them was an endless plane of green, like the meadow on the north side of the castle, just incomparably larger. Merlin looked incredibly good burrowed in the blanket of grass, flowers blooming around him. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said with a smile in his voice, and before Arthur could collect himself, he had an armful of Merlin and Merlin’s lips moving against his, slow and sweet and perfect. 

There was something he needed to do, though he couldn’t remember what. But that could wait. Merlin fit perfectly against him, like he belonged in Arthur’s arms. 

“I could stay like this forever,” Merlin whispered against Arthur’s lips, like sharing a secret.

Arthur gave an affirmative hum, before something registered in the back of his mind, like an itch making itself known. It sounded familiar and it was accompanied by a disconcerting feeling of wrong. What could possibly be wrong about this?

“Merlin.” Arthur drew in a sharp breath, his memories coming back full force. “Merlin,” he said again when Merlin ignored him in favour of mapping Arthur’s face with his lips. 

“Hmm?”

“We’re dreaming, remember?”

Merlin abruptly stopped his ministrations (Arthur already missed it) and pulled back to look at Arthur confusedly. 

“Oh, right,” he said after a while, his face falling.

Arthur held himself back from kissing that solemn expression away. 

“Merlin.”

“What is it?” 

“I found the spell.” 

Predictably, Merlin went taut in a span of a second.

“The one you didn’t want me to find,” Arthur clarified unnecessarily. 

Merlin’s face blanched and he pushed away from Arthur. “No.”

“Merlin-”

“You’re not doing this!” Merlin said resolutely, scrambling to his feet. “I won’t let you.”

“Why not?” Arthur shifted to his knees, slowly pulling himself up. “Why won't you let me save you?”

“It's going to kill you!” Merlin yelled, hands clenched into fists. 

Arthur’s heart swelled at the display of protectiveness. Merlin could be so foolish sometimes. Most of the time. 

“You don’t know that,” he said gently, crowding into Merlin’s space.

“No, neither of us knows anything that might happen.” Merlin wriggled away when Arthur made an attempt at taking his hands. “And I’m not risking it.” 

Pulling back, Arthur let his hands fall by his sides. He took in the tight clench of Merlin’s jaw, the storm raging in his eyes as he stared Arthur down with determination. 

Arthur had never been more sure that he couldn’t go on, didn’t want to go on with his life if Merlin wasn’t in it. Didn’t want to imagine waking up in the morning and Merlin’s face not being the first thing he saw. 

“Who’s going to look after me, then?” he asked, watching Merlin’s glare melt away like the snow under the direct sun, replaced by devastating resignation,

“That's a low blow, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice cracked on Arthur’s name.

“It’s true, though.” Arthur stepped forward, giving Merlin no choice but to look at him. He raised his hand and cupped Merlin’s cheek in his palm, his insides turning into warm honey when Merlin leaned into it instinctively. “Merlin. I need you.”

Merlin made a low sound, like a whimper, shaking his head. “The spell is irreversible.”

“I don’t want it reversed.” I never want to be separated from you, is what he meant to say. But he thought Merlin might have understood anyway, given how his eyes grew twice their size, filled with genuine shock and reluctant hope. 

“You don’t know that. In a few years, you-”

“Will feel the same way I do now.” 

A conflicted expression settled on Merlin’s face, as though it was physically painful to let himself believe. Arthur wanted nothing more than to kiss it away, make Merlin stupid with it. 

Morgana’s distorted, muted voice carried through the air, making Merlin whip his head around in bewilderment.

It was time.

“What-”

Collecting himself, Arthur slid his hand from Merlin’s cheek to behind his neck, his other joining the first, and together they started undoing the knot on Merlin’s scarf. 

“Arthur?” Merlin croaked, perplexed. “Arthur, what are you doing?”

Arthur only smiled indulgently, silently removing the scarf and wrapping it around his hand as he’d done before he’d gone to sleep. 

Merlin watched him with confusion, an adorable crease between his brows that gave way to pure, undiluted disbelief when Arthur slid his mother’s ring off his finger and reached for Merlin’s hand. 

“I accept the bond. I want my life to be bound with yours. Whatever may come.” 

Merlin let out a hiccuping sob, trying and failing to pull his hand away. “Arthur.”

“I’m already yours.” Arthur paused with the ring hovering above Merlin’s thumb. He looked at Merlin in askance, uncertain for the first time. “Are you mine?”

And then, to his dismay, Merlin laughed, a brilliant, addictive sound that set his face alight. 

“Always have been,” he said, like it was supposed to be obvious. 

And Arthur thought of all the times Merlin had stood by his side, had fought by his side with staggering courage and unwavering loyalty. Not as someone who was following his destiny. But as a friend. As someone who would follow Arthur to the gates of hell if he asked. 

“I accept the bond,” Merlin said, nudging his hand towards Arthur of his own accord. 

Arthur’s exhale was shaky with relief as he slid the ring onto Merlin’s thumb, feeling an undeniable sense of right settle in his belly, warm and soothing. 

Merlin looked at his hand, then lifted his stunned, glassy gaze to Arthur, and smiled that brilliant, knee-buckling smile again. “I want to be with you forever.”

“Merlin.” 

Merlin closed the miniscule distance between them, breathing again Arthur’s lips, “I love you.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, desperate, almost pleading. His heart felt as though it was being cracked open in the most wonderful, terrifying way possible. He swayed on his feet, Merlin’s hands on his arms steadying him, pulling him impossibly closer. Arthur leaned on him, into him.

“Arthur, I-”

“ Mer lin,” Arthur said with the last remnants of coherence. 

Merlin made a snorting noise, lips pressed together in a thin line like he was suppressing a laugh. 

“Shut up?” 

Arthur huffed, the short, low sound punched out of him. “Precisely.”

Merlin’s would-be laugh turned into a blinding grin, nearly sending Arthur to his knees with the sheer beauty of it.

Before that could happen, Arthur voiced his frustration with a guttural growl, fit Merlin’s perfect face between his rough palms and pressed his lips to Merlin’s with the force of a wave crashing against a cliff. 

There was a short, exquisite moment of absolute bliss, and then everything went up in a burst of golden light. 

***

Arthur woke to a pained groan. It took Morgana’s frantic chanting of his name and her surprisingly strong hands shaking him to full consciousness to realise the sound had come from him.

“What-”

“Arthur! Arthur, are you alright?”

Another pained groan, louder this time as Arthur tried to shift, the movement sending searing pain through his side.

“What the-” 

He blinked his eyes open, taking in the familiar setting of the physician’s chambers. There was another pained groan, but it hadn’t come from him. His gaze turned left, following the source. 

“Merlin!” he yelped, trying to turn to his side and promptly falling back. 

“Arthur?” Merlin said weakly. 

Arthur was ready to cry with relief. 

“Merlin. Thank God.” Having learnt his lesson, he braced himself on his elbow and gingerly twisted to the side, hissing as the pain pierced through him again, though this time far more bearable. “Are you okay?”

Merlin looked decidedly different than in the dreamscape, paler and more sickly, his irises more grey than blue, but God , he was alive . 

“I’ve been better,” he said, licking his chapped lips as he attempted a smile. 

“Yeah,” Arthur huffed. “Same.”

“Hey!” Morgana slapped his arm harmlessly. “Don’t ignore me, you two!” Her seething glare didn’t last long, softening almost immediately when her eyes met Merlin’s. “Merlin. It’s good to have you back. His Highness has been unbearable without you to keep him in line.”

Arthur sputtered, but before he could come up with a saucy reply, Merlin said, laughing softly, “Can’t have that, can we.”

“Arthur. Merlin,” came Gaius’ voice, the man suddenly hovering above them. 

“Gaius,” Merlin said, face split into a wide smile. 

“Let me see.” Gaius motioned for Merlin to pull up his tunic, revealing his still bandaged stomach. Gaius crouched next to him, removing the bandages and nodding as he studied the wound.

Arthur followed the motion of Gaius’ hands, heart lodged in his throat with dreadful anticipation of the worst. To his utter dismay and incredible relief, the wound left by the bolt was nothing more than an uncomfortable-looking, inflamed spot. 

“Arthur, I need to have a look at you too.”

Arthur made an unidentifiable sound, somewhere between a displeased grunt and an assent, and let Gaius pull up his tunic. 

“Oh.” 

Morgana let out a sharp gasp. “Gaius, how- He’s obviously in pain.”

Confused, Arthur dared to peek down, finding himself bereft when he only found unblemished skin.

“It doesn’t mean there has to be a visible wound.” Pulling the tunic back into place, Gaius caught Arthur’s eyes. “Remember what I told you about it being like an echo?”

Arthur nodded, remembering the conversation vaguely. “Merlin’s injury looks much better, though.”

“Because we’re sharing it, you cabbage head,” Merlin snapped next to him, glaring at Arthur like an angry puppy. “I told you not to do it.”

“Merlin.” Arthur was so done with Merlin’s perpetual martyr tendencies. “Shut. Up.”

“But-”

“ Mer lin.” He fit a palm over Merlin’s mouth, making him hold his gaze. “I’m glad. I told you I’m not going to change my mind.”

Merlin’s eyes softened almost immediately, then annoyance overtook them and he batted Arthur’s hand away. “Stubborn oaf.”

“Insolent bumpkin.”

“Just kiss already!” Mrogana cried, throwing her hands in the air. 

Merlin gaped, then wiggled his eyebrows, smiling at Arthur tauntingly. “I like the way she thinks.”

Arthur’s initial instinct was to smack both Merlin and Morgana for their ill-mannered timing, but his indignation died when something guarded and reluctant flickered across Merlin’s eyes.

Instead he found himself leaning into Merlin’s space, before he caught himself.

“Turn around. Both of you!” he ordered, glaring daggers until both Morgana and Gaius (although the physician didn’t have to be told twice) did as asked. He ignored Morgana’s muttered mockery, focusing on Merlin instead.

And there it was. The heart-stopping smile. 

“Playing coy all of sudden?” Merlin teased. 

Squinting in a mock-threatening manner, Arthur shuffled closer, snaking a hand around Merlin’s waist, careful of his injury. 

“Don’t leave me again,” he whispered, although he knew Gaius and Morgana must have heard. It didn’t even bother him as much as he'd thought it would. But he guessed that agreeing to bind his life to someone else’s was rather self-explanatory.

Merlin lifted his hand, slow and shaky from a few day’s worth of disuse. He brushed his thumb over the edge of Arthur’s jaw, trailing up his cheek, sliding through his hair. If Arthur could purr, he would.

“I think you made sure I won’t be able to,” Merlin said, voice low and husky, full of awe and unconcealed longing. 

Arthur hoped with everything he had that Merlin would never stop looking at him like that. 

“Good,” he said, the word mostly breathless, and leaned in for their first, real kiss, tasting sunshine and Merlin and forever.

Epilogue

Avoiding suspicion, especially from his father, proved easier than Arthur had anticipated. Gaius seemed quite sure that their shared injury wouldn't take longer than a week to properly heal and he took it upon himself to deliver the news to the King, saying that Arthur was incapacitated with a mild case of food poisoning. Making up an excuse about Arthur needing his undisturbed rest, Uther didn't set a foot in Arthur's chambers for the upcoming week. Nobody but Gaius did, in fact. 

And of course, there was Merlin, all but having moved into Arthur's chambers without actually moving.

It was the best week of Arthur's life. 

“Promise me you’ll never do something so stupid again," Arthur said the first night they lay together in bed, an arm thrown protectively over Merlin's waist.

Merlin's eyeroll was almost audible. “It’s not like I jumped in front of the flying bolt for you.”

“You might as well have." He raised a speculative eyebrow. "Are you saying you wouldn’t, given the opportunity?”

“Nope," Merlin said, enunciating the 'p'. His grin was cheeky. "That’s what my magic is for.”

“A whole lot of good it did," Arthur grumbled, yelping when Merlin pinched the soft skin of his belly none-too-gently. “Oi!”

“Don’t badmouth my magic. It has feelings, you know?”

“Oh, forgive me. How shall I repent?”

Mischief flashed through Merlin's eyes before they darkened, his voice following suit as it dropped impossibly low.  

“Well, since you asked…”

And before Arthur could gather his bearings, he was pushed onto his back in a surprisingly gentle manner, held captive within the cage of Merlin's body. 

"You're injured," Arthur stated. We both are.

Merlin's grin only widened and he wiggled his fingers in front of Arthur's face, tiny, golden sparks spurting from his fingertips.

Arthur's mouth fell open, eyes growing with gradual understanding.

"You-" He trailed off, swallowing around his tight throat.

"Oh, yes," Merlin said raspily, grinning like a madman.

Arthur knew he was truly, utterly fucked. 

***

“Besides Lancelot, did anyone else know?” Arthur asked as they sat down for dinner three nights later.

Merlin stopped mid-chew, shaking his head. “No.” It was hesitant, not as though he was lying, but like he was unsure.

“Will?” Arthur dared a guess.

Merlin sighed, wiping his hands on his trousers. “We grew up together.” 

“I’m sorry." Arthur reached for his hand. "That you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”

Arthur might have promised Merlin he'd chew him out for all the lies and deceit, but at the end of the day, after he'd woken up from their last shared dream and found Merlin alive and healthy (mostly), it had all seemed rather petty. Although Merlin still carried an unhealthy amount of guilt and self-deprecation inside him, Arthur had no interest in adding insult to injury. That being said, he'd never stopped asking himself what had led Merlin to believe he couldn't have confided in him. 

“That’s not it, Arthur," Merlin disagreed earnestly, squeezing his hand in return. "I didn’t want you to have to choose. Your father can’t know.”

“I guess not." Arthur knew that. He'd long since given up hope that Uther would see reason, let alone change his mind. But he'd be damned if he let any harm come to the people he cared about. "But I’ll do anything in my power to keep you, and Morgana, and anyone who has magic safe. I promise you things will change when I’m King.”

Merlin's eyes glistened, gazing at Arthur like he was a wonder. God, the things Arthur would do just to see that look for the rest of his life. 

“People won’t be as accepting," Merlin said dejectedly. 

“We’ll have to show them how good magic can be.” 

“Like what?”

“You can demonstrate how you cheat when cleaning my chambers.”

Merlin snatched his hand away, scowling at Arthur before he surged forward, planting a quick, exasperated kiss on his lips.

“Prat.”

***

Uther hadn’t forgotten about Odin, and despite his best efforts, Arthur was forced to hit back with the same ferocity that had been paid to Camelot.

Capturing Odin cost them countless lives, filling Arthur with bitterness towards his father. Arthur didn't want this. This wasn’t the Once and Future King Merlin had been telling him about. 

It felt like standing on a precipice when Arthur defied Uther's order to kill Odin on the spot. Odin was perhaps the most surprised by that development.

“I can’t give you your son back,” Arthur said, remorseful. “But I can give you my word that I'll do everything I can to prevent something like this from happening again. I don't want anyone else to die because of our feud. And I believe you don’t either." Odin didn't contradict him, so Arthur continued. "There’s been enough bloodshed. Let’s end this. Now. You have my word that things will be different when I'm King.”

And to the utter shock of everyone present, Arthur included, King Odin shook Arthur’s offered hand. 

If Arthur felt a growing pit of doubt in his stomach as he watched Odin ride away, unharmed, it took one look at Merlin’s face, full of love and pride for Arthur, to banish it like it'd never been there. 

***

The first time it happened, Merlin was knocked onto his back, the enemy's sword ready to descend on him. Arthur watched the scene with growing terror, seeing Merlin's head flop uselessly to the ground from the impact. 

He didn't remember much apart from a deafening roar that he later realised came from him. He only remembered his vision tunneling, unaware of anything but the horror unfolding before him. Then a sensation like something was ripped out of him, and in the next moment the man standing above Merlin flew through the air, screaming in either pain or shock or both.

It took a while for Arthur to come back to himself, for the ringing in his ears to stop. He didn't remember ever being so exhausted. 

He trotted over to Merlin's supine form despite his swimming vision, dropping to his knees and cradling Merlin's face between his hands.

Merlin's eyes blinked open slowly, and when he registered Arthur hovering above him, his lips stretched into a sweet, lazy smile. It disappeared as he took in Arthur's most likely alarmed expression.

"Arthur?"

"Merlin. Merlin, I… I think…"

Lifting himself onto his elbows, Merlin swept his gaze over their surroundings, probably noticing the man who’d meant to run him through lying limply further back.

"You did magic," Merlin said, voice filled with wonder instead of panic. 

That was so very, very messed up.

***

They experimented, trying to coax magic out of Arthur in multiple ways. Gaius helped a lot, although he was enjoying himself all too much if Arthur said so himself. 

Arthur was more relieved than disappointed, unlike Merlin and Morgana, that it seemed he could only perform magic in Merlin's close vicinity, and under extreme distress (or excitement, as he and Merlin learnt one night).

Arthur was happy with those facts. 

***

It was on Uther's deathbed six years later that Arthur learnt the truth about Morgana. 

Morgana's outrage lasted all of five minutes before she broke down in tears and begged Uther not to go now that everything finally made sense. 

Finding out Morgana had magic had already pushed her and Arthur closer, as had working together to save Merlin - and, by extension, Arthur. But learning Morgana was his sister put everything into a completely different light. For one, Arthur couldn't believe that such a little, mischievous, manipulative harpy could be related to him. 

For her part, Morgana refused to admit that any sibling of hers could be such a spoiled peacock. 

Despite that, Morgana was among the ones clapping the loudest when Arthur was crowned King. The loudest one by far was, of course, Merlin. 

The truth was Arthur couldn't hope for a better successor than Morgana if anything were to happen to him. It was for that reason that Arthur decided to include Morgana in all his decision-making, much to Merlin's chagrin.

And that was how Arthur found out about the rest of the prophecy and the role Morgana was supposed to play. He tried to soothe Merlin's fears, but the beautiful idiot wouldn't listen. So Arthur decided to do the one thing no one had thought possible.

And finally, nearly three decades after the Purge, the ban was lifted and magic returned to Camelot's lands. Not without hurdles, of course, but Morgana and Merlin's faces were worth all the trouble. 

So was Merlin’s dumbstruck expression when Arthur named him the court sorcerer and promptly introduced him as his Consort.

That time, Morgana was clapping the loudest and making annoying kissy faces. Arthur could barely hold back his stupid grin. And anyway, he would get back at Morgana the next time he walked in on her and Guinevere all over each other (because the two just didn't have any inhibitions).

“The prophecy isn’t about me," Arthur told Merlin that night when Merlin commented on Arthur becoming everything the prophecy spoke of. "It’s never been about me. It’s about us." He took Merlin's hands in his, stepping into Merlin's space, relishing the sharp intake of breath. "You’re my destiny. And you’re my choice.”

It was hard to tell if Merlin was laughing or crying, but he was throwing himself at Arthur, wrapping him in a hug so tight it nearly squeezed all the air from his lungs.

“I’m so glad I took that bolt for you.”

Arthur made a disapproving sound but couldn't bring himself to chastise Merlin properly, not when it felt so good to be held like that. 

And if he was being honest with himself, part of him was also glad that Merlin had taken that bolt. Because there was no telling how long it would've taken Arthur to pull his head out his royal arse - as Merlin liked to put it - if things had played out differently.

***

Arthur'd been devastated (not that he'd tell Merlin) when it turned out the shared dreams were a byproduct of the first binding spell and the actual soulbond didn't include them.

Fortunately, Merlin'd been just as bummed and it hadn't been long before he perfected a spell for dream sharing. 

At first they'd only indulged in those occasionally, when the real world seemed like too much, but as years had gone by, especially after Arthur had become King, it had almost become a necessity. It had become the only way to spend uninterrupted quality time together.

They fell into bed together after an exhausting day filled with never ending speeches, training new recruits and arguing with Morgana over decoration for the upcoming banquet - a celebration of Camelot's alliance with Cornwall. 

Arthur didn't need to ask, he only needed to give Merlin one look for him to understand, lean in and kiss Arthur sweetly, then whisper the familiar spell.

“See you when you fall asleep," he said, kissing Arthur's brow.

“See you when you fall asleep," Arthur returned, burrowing his face in Merlin's neck.

He must have been out the second his eyes slid shut but it was always hard to tell. Time was a very strange phenomenon, after all, especially when it came to dreams. Or magical dreams.

Slowly, Arthur opened his eyes, finding himself in the same position as before he'd closed them. 

Except they weren't in bed anymore, a sea of green spreading out all around them.

Arthur blinked up at Merlin, finding him already looking back, eyes soft and fond.

Merlin ran his hand through Arthur's hair. Arthur was positive he'd never get used to how incredibly good it felt even though it was just a dream. 

He sighed happily. “Missed you."

Merlin chuckled, a low, heart-stopping sound that had Arthur shifting impossibly closer.

Merlin's finger was under his chin, tilting his head up so he could place a tender, butterfly kiss on Arthur's mouth. 

“Missed you, too.”