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There's so much blood.
Arthur's face is an angry shade of red, all of the heat rushing to his cheeks, and there's sweat glistening in the disheveled hair hanging around his eyes.
It's a frightening sight really.
Merlin's never seen him like this before. Not amidst a battle when he's been so absorbed, killing with every stroke of his sword, blood staining his forearms and drops of it on his face. Not that day out in the rain when they had been sure Morgana would not wake again, blood in her brain. Not even when he'd charged Lancelot on that dreary night of betrayal.
There is more than hate in his eyes. They are dark with rage, with a burning fury so fearful, one might cower under just his stare.
His muscles tighten and Merlin winces himself, as Arthur's fist delivers another blow. The noise crackles through the room and the useless man on the floor whimpers.
He'd given up the fight long ago.
The once powerful and determined knight had been reduced to nothing more than a motionless heap of broken bones. A low fire glistens in the pool of blood that has formed from the man's nose or mouth. Merlin's not really sure where it's all coming from.
Another kick to his abdomen. He curls in on himself and moans, a string of bloody drool hanging from his mouth.
"Plea-please," he tries again for maybe the hundredth time, hoping that Arthur will come to his senses. Merlin is wondering when that will be as well. He wants to talk the king down. Wants to convince him to relent, but his vocal chords aren't agreeing. It's like fire to get any sound out at all and he can barely pick up his head from the cold ground to look away. Arthur kicks the man again.
It's getting hard to watch.
"Look at you sniveling for forgiveness. The fight is different when the challenge is unequal now isn't it?" Arthur snarls from behind his clenched teeth. He kneels, turning the man onto his back and pressing down on his ribs. They're most likely fractured if not broken.
He cries out in pain. The sound is one that Merlin cannot get out of his ears. His agony keeps ringing loud and clear.
"Pathetic," Arthur grits out between breaths. He's panting hard. He's been at it for a very long time now. "This is how it feels to not have the advantage. To be victim to your position. Your standing. Your strength. Do you like it?"
Merlin does not think he knows this man. The person that he would call his closest friend. He is a stranger. Not a hint of Arthur's golden glow flickers through now. Merlin's chest constricts. There's a feeling of loss or homesickness from being stuck in this room with a psychopath and a vile man who is possibly going to die tonight.
The knight shakes his head. You'd have to be insane to argue with someone on a psychotic rampage.
"That's what I thought," Arthur coos. "Now you'll think twice before harming someone," He stands and sticks the fire poker into the embers of the hearth, watching it turn orange. "because you think," he strides back to his prey, poker in hand. "you'll be able to get away with it."
Merlin gulps and closes his eyes.
When the screaming is over, several guards rush into the room, frenzied looks darting over the sorry sight in the Knight's chambers.
Arthur is not fazed. He's the king after all. He waves a lazy hand. "Guard the door. Nobody is to enter until I say otherwise."
"Yes my lord," one of the guards says shakily.
"Oh, and you will not say a word about Sir Pellion when you leave this room."
Pellion. Merlin had forgotten his name. He doesn't make a habit of remembering the names of visiting knights that believe themselves to be greater than anyone below them.
The guards swiftly bow and leave.
Arthur turns, and for the first time, his gaze lands on Merlin. There in his face, is a flicker of himself. But it's muddled with something else. Worry and anguish.
"Are you okay?" He asks as he wipes the sweat from his brow onto the back of his wrist, smearing some of Pellion's blood across his forehead.
Merlin gulps and nods. Even if he could speak, there are no words that he can think to say.
Arthur goes to him and it takes everything to fight his urge to flinch away from the king as he examines his injuries.
Merlin shudders as fingers brush across his collarbone to work the knot of his neckerchief. When it's removed, Arthur traces the skin of his neck where he suspects there are ugly bruises of the hands that had been wrapped around his throat.
His movements are gentle, and it's strange how those same hands had just been beating a man senseless moments ago.
"How does it look?" Merlin tries to say but he only gets the first word out before swallowing hard and trying again.
"Shh, don't try to talk."
He does anyway, because he's never followed orders before.
"Is-"
Arthur presses a thumb to his lips, forcing the rasping noises he's making to stay in his throat.
Merlin briefly wonders what Arthur would do if he slipped his tongue through parted lips and tasted the skin of his thumb. Then he recoils at the idea of tasting the dried blood of the motionless man just feet from them.
"I'm going to get you to Gaius. Should've done that first. I wasn't thinking straight."
Arthur moves his hands down Merlin's narrow body. First his chest, searching for broken ribs. There are none, Merlin already knows. He remembers what that would feel like. There are a few bruises on his back from where Pellion kicked him, but Arthur can't see those and he intends to keep it that way. He's clearly unhinged and has proved tonight, the rash decisions he'll make to defend his friend's honor.
Then, Arthur moves on to legs, where he discovers that Merlin has a sprained ankle by moving it and eliciting a wince from him. Pellion had shoved him to the ground and he figures that's when the damage had been done. Arthur moves it this way and that, asking if he can move it himself and there are tears in Merlin's eyes from the pain.
"Where else hurts?" Arthur asks, smoothing his dark hair with tender fingers.
Merlin points to his wrist. Pellion's bone-crushing grip had made it so that he couldn't move it without sending sparks up to his elbow. Then he points to his head. Concussion probably, judging by his violent headache.
Arthur nods and helps him stand. He only has one good foot and he's lightheaded and woozy, so Arthur takes on the burden of his weight, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other on his chest.
Merlin cannot think of a time when they had been pressed this closely together or maybe it's just that usually, he'd be the one wrapping his arms around the king, holding him steady amidst a battle instead of the other way around.
Pellion is unconscious, most likely knocked out from the pain of his burning flesh. Merlin can see the mark that the iron poker left on his right cheek. It won't be one that he'll be able to forget. Perhaps Arthur marked him there intentionally so that each time the knight looks into the mirror, he'll remember why it's there, who left it.
Merlin's stomach churns. It's not something that Arthur would do. He never sought to humiliate his enemies before.
When they've made it across the room to the door, Merlin's grip on his shoulder tightens, signaling him to a stop.
"What?" Arthur follows his eyes to the man on the floor and grunts. "Don't worry about him. You're the priority here."
But Merlin's scrutiny does not break.
"Please Merlin, he's going to be just fine, I promise."
He does not believe Arthur's promise in the slightest.
~~~~~~~~~~
"What in the holy gods above?" Gaius says as he's already getting his supplies out to treat and diagnose. "What happened to you, Merlin?"
Arthur doesn't even bother helping him up the stairs to his bedroom, just scoops him up under the knees and carries him the rest of the way to his little bed.
"One of the knights visiting for the tournament felt the need to put my smart-mouthed servant in his place. I forget that other nobles don't let their servants talk back as I do. I should've known better than to put mine under Sir Pellion's service."
Merlin only glares in his direction.
He hadn't expected to be beaten right then and there for making a snarky comment. The stocks maybe or more chores. Definitely not this.
As much as he hates to admit it, Arthur is kinder and more forgiving than most visiting nobles. Merlin knows this, but it doesn't stop him from testing their limits, knowing Arthur would never fire him after all these years.
Gaius gives him a scolding look and then begins his examinations.
Surprisingly, Arthur stays to help bandage and splint his ankle and wrist, carefully following each order that the physician gives to him.
And Merlin watches his focused demeanor as he works. There's still blood on his face and he's in the loose night shirt Merlin had put him in just hours before.
How did Arthur know Pellion was choking him from halfway across the palace?
Arthur doesn't look up from his careful fingers. "How long will it take for his vocal chords to heal?"
Merlin turns to Gaius expectantly, desperate to know when he can start interrogating the king on his display in Pellion's quarters just then. He needs answers and Arthur is not offering them freely.
"It could be just a few days, or a couple of weeks depending on the damage."
Merlin watches his jaw tighten, that dark look return to his eyes and he catches Arthur's arm with his good hand before he can rush back to finish what he'd started.
He gives Arthur a pleading look that he hopes asks, please leave it. I'm fine.
But Arthur seems to mistake it for, please don't leave me, because he pushes Merlin back down and says, "Hey, don't worry. I'll be back later. Now stop being stubborn and get some rest."
Then he's leaving and there's no way to convince him not to go back to Pellion. Maybe he's just going to get the knight help, Merlin tells himself. Arthur's not a monster. He's just protective, that's all.
Merlin can still recall the first time he'd stood up for him in this way.
" Halig !" He'd shouted just before the witch hunter's fist could make an unfortunate mark on his friends face. "What do you think you're doing?"
"We caught the boy behaving suspiciously, sire." Halig's breath had been sour and hot on Merlin's face.
"Merlin?"
"He could be harboring the girl and he's going to tell us where." He growled and pulled his fist back, readying his blow.
Arthur caught his arm and pushed him away roughly, saying,"Leave him alone." then pulled Merlin ungracefully to his feet. "Merlin is my servant. He has my absolute trust."
Halig had been fuming, unable to argue with the crowned prince. Merlin on the other hand, had been wide-eyed in shock because of this newfound trust and the way Arthur folded his arms as if asserting his dominance and daring the other man to touch his servant again.
"If you have a problem with him, you come to me. Understand?"
"Sire," Halig reluctantly complied, making his way out of the dungeon cell.
The memory is a warm one. It had been one of the many times Arthur let some sort of fondness slip into his steel exterior. Merlin likes to keep track of them, remembering that even though he rarely shows it, he does care. Especially when Merlin is in any sort of danger.
But this isn't like that. Arthur hasn't been himself ever since he caught Gwen and shade Lancelot kissing before his wedding day. He's been cold and at the edge of an outburst almost every day.
Gwen refuses to see him, saying that they were never right for each other anyway, so she isn't able to work for the royal household anymore. Instead, she makes a living as a blacksmith for Camelot as her father had in his time.
It hasn't been the same without her.
Merlin wishes he could wrap Arthur up in his arms and bring the smiling idiot he knows best back to himself, but he's not sure Arthur would even allow it. They don't hug. It's a strict rule Arthur has established that he wishes he could tear to shreds.
"Get some sleep my boy," Gaius' voice soothes and he realizes that his eyelids had begun to droop with fatigue.
Merlin is more than willing to obey.
~~~~~~~~~~
When he wakes, light from outside streams into his room, bathing it in warm oranges and yellows. Arthur is by his side again. This time, skin and golden hair clean of Pellion's blood.
He smells of lavender and blossoms, and his hair is still wet from a supposed bath.
"Merlin!" He exclaims brightly, dropping some of Merlin's things he'd been rooting through in surprise.
"Morning," Merlin says, pushing himself up to a sitting position. His voice comes out croaky and hoarse but he's thrilled it's coming out at all.
"Afternoon actually. You've been asleep for quite a while. Gaius says it's good though. For your brain or whatever."
"That explains why I feel like a corpse rising from it's grave." Merlin yawns, then asks, "How long have you been in here, waiting for me to wake up?"
Arthur shrugs and looks away bashfully. "I've just been around, that's all. It's not like I've been sitting here with nothing better to do. I am the king Merlin, you do remember that don't you?"
"You were worried about me."
"No," He sputters defensively. "I was thinking that Giaus might need extra hands."
"Of coarse," Merlin croaks painfully and takes a sip from the cup of water Arthur offers him. "Because it's not like there are any other capable people to help when you just have such a busy schedule."
"Shut up. You'll damage your vocal chords."
Merlin raises an eyebrow instead of commenting any further. It is rather painful to be talking this much.
"Alright, fine! I was worried okay? I hate to see you hurt. It's like watching a puppy in pain."
He doesn't exactly know how to feel about being compared to a baby animal, but the rest of Arthur's confession makes him blush and say, "really?"
"Yeah, your eyes go all big and you whimper just like a scared dog too. The resemblance is uncanny."
Merlin hits him and immediately regrets it, cradling his fractured wrist to his chest and groaning.
He expects Arthur to make another joke about him whimpering like a puppy but he doesn't. His eyes are searching Merlin's with poorly hidden concern.
"I'm fine Arthur. You can stop looking at me like that. You and I have both had injuries worse than this."
He scoffs as if covering up for his earlier show of emotions. "I hardly think you've enough battle wounds to brag about, always cowering behind a tree."
Merlin rolls his eyes. "You don't have to be a mighty warrior to have a couple of stories to tell. How about when I almost died after drinking from your poisoned chalice? Or when I almost died protecting you from the dorocha. Or when Morgana's men captured me and I almost died again. Have you forgotten those times?" There are others of course. Occurrences that Arthur doesn't even know about.
"Of course I remember. Each time you were in pain, I remember. It's hard to forget.
"But those times," Arthur continues. Merlin isn't saying anything, partly because his throat is recovering from his rant and partly because he hasn't the slightest idea how to respond to that. "I didn't have control over them. You acting like a buffoon and offering to sacrifice yourself in my place wasn't something I could stop. Or the rockfall that separated us.
"I could have prevented this. I knew that Pellion was a pompous prick who takes delight in degrading others. I knew it and yet I still put you under his service. I thought that because you were my personal servant, he wouldn't touch you, but I was wrong.
"Arthur, it wasn't your f-"
"No it is," Arthur cuts him off. "It is my fault because I'm supposed to look out for you. I've been so involved with myself and my own troubles that I couldn't even spare a thought for your well being." Then he looks down into his palms that lay open on his lap, tracing the lines of his warrior's hands as he says more quietly this time, "I'm supposed to look out for you."
Merlin is still gaping at him with a troubled expression. He's never been so open with these things before. The scene he'd walked into last night must've shaken him up pretty badly. Merlin can imagine the fright that he must've felt seeing his friend pinned to the wall, two big hands wrapped tightly around his throat. His toes had been barely touching the floor at that point and he'd been opening and closing his mouth frantically, trying to gasp in any little bit of air for his lungs.
In those moments when black spots began to swim through Merlin's vision, he didn't know whether Pellion's intent was to kill. He'd refrained from using magic for as long as possible, but things were beginning to turn desperate and he'd much rather be accused of sorcery than murdered.
But before he could destroy Pellion with a flash of his eyes, the chamber door had burst open and sweet sweet air had begun to rush back along with his vision.
Merlin comes back from the memory to gather enough of his thoughts and say, "I can look after myself. You already have a kingdom to take care of."
"I wish I didn't," Arthur mutters.
Merlin asks, "what was that?" Because surely he'd misheard. Arthur loves Camelot more than anything and anyone.
"Nothing."
"Arthur?"
"Sometimes," Arthur begins, exasperatedly. "I wish that I had less responsibility. Less restrictions. Regular people are allowed to live their life the way they want to. Be with who they want to. I'll never be able to have that."
Merlin assumes he's talking about Gwen again. The way he couldn't be with her and even when he finally could, he couldn't be what she needed him to be. Someone who loved her more than his kingdom.
He says in an effort to comfort, "Things just didn't work out with Gwen, that's all. That happens to regular people all the time. You will find happiness with someone again."
Arthur meets his eyes again and whispers, "who?" It's not a rhetorical question. It's inviting. He's waiting for an answer.
"Whoever you want," Merlin says even though he wishes he had the courage to say, Me. You can have me, you fool. I'm yours, I always have been.
"I want-"
Merlin never finds out what he wants because Gaius bursts in, a look of glee on his face.
"Merlin, you're awake! How are you feeling, my boy?"
"Like I've died," Merlin gets out just before having a violent coughing fit.
He can tell that it's hard for them to watch and when it's over, Gaius pats his shoulder as if it will help calm the shaking.
"I made you a soothing elixir for your throat if you want it."
Arthur doesn't give him a chance to answer, just hops up from his spot and into the main room, calling, "What does it look like?"
Gaius calls back, "it's the small one on my desk next to the bestiary!"
Then he turns to Merlin, speaking in tones that Arthur won't hear. "It's a miracle that you're even speaking only hours after the incident. Did you heal yourself?"
Merlin shakes his head.
"Odd. Your magic is getting stronger. I suppose you could've healed yourself in your sleep."
Merlin shrugs.
"Well, don't do it anymore for a couple of days or it's going to look suspicious."
"What's suspicious?" Arthur says, taking his seat on the little wicker stool again.
"The state of Sir Pellion, sire," Gaius covers cleverly. "You said that he fell down the stairs briefly after you found Merlin but there is a fresh burn on his cheek and two of his ribs are broken."
Arthur doesn't answer. He inspects the green-tinted vial of liquid instead. Guilty but not wanting to admit it.
"Can I see your hands my lord?" Gaius quickly tacks on his title at the end, remembering his place even though he's scolding the king like he would Merlin.
And the king listens without hesitation, holding out one of his hands palm up, the other gripping the elixir tight enough that Merlin thinks it might shatter.
Gaius gives him one last disapproving look, one eyebrow raised, lips pursed, before snatching his hand and turning it over.
He tuts, tosses Arthur's hand back, and folds his arms one over the other, waiting for an explanation.
Merlin can see now, what Gaius had seen there on his knuckles. Ugly red and purple bruises all along his fist.
The bright colors are all it takes to send him back into the memories of the night before.
" Pellion ," Arthur's low voice warned. "Take your hands off of my servant."
Merlin was sagging against the Knight's hold still on his neck. Not so much force that he couldn't breathe anymore, just there keeping him in place.
"My lord." Pellion's courtly voice appeared, as if he hadn't just been whispering foul threats into Merlin's ear moments ago. It was formal now, smoothe as leather. "This serving boy has no respect for his betters. I was merely teaching him a lesson so that he remembers his place. I'm surprised that you yourself have to put up with such insolence."
"I said," Arthur disregarded his excuses, "Let him go."
"Of course," Pellion said with a sweeping bow and releasing Merlin at the same time. He collapsed to the floor with nothing holding his weight. He'd been so so dizzy.
That was when Arthur's composure snapped.
"He hurt Merlin, Gaius. I couldn't just let that slide. Besides, I only got in a couple of good punches. He can't be that bad off."
Arthur marched forward, grabbing the front of his posh tunic and threw him against the wall with a loud thud.
"Please Arthur, is this entirely necessary? You've known me since we were boys. He is just a servant."
Arthur answered him with a punch to the gut.
When Pellion recovered, he seemed to decide that negotiating wasn't his best play. He swung a fist at Arthur's head, but his opponent smoothly ducked it and returned with his own fist smashing into Pellion's face.
The knight pushed him away and stumbled back, cupping his jaw and moving it back and forth to asses the damage. "So this is who you are huh?" He mused, voice still dripping with arrogance even though he'd just received two good blows. "A man who leads with a fist rather than his head. I did always think more highly of your father than his simpleton son."
When Arthur lunged at him this time, he was ready, ducking out of the way and reaching for his sword that was leaning up against a side table. He pointed it at the king and Arthur barely had time to pull his own from his belt before Pellion brought it down.
This went on for several minutes. The clanging of swords and grunts of exertion. Knight of Gawant against the king of Camelot.
Finally, Arthur was able to knock the blade out of Pellion's hand and drive him back until he was against the wall, the point of his sword pressed dangerously into the hollow of Pellion's throat.
"Do it," the knight breathed out. The movement caused the blade to pierce the surface of his skin, a drop of blood rolling down his pale throat. "Prove to me you're not as noble as they say you are."
Arthur clenched his jaw, hesitating. He pierced the skin just a bit further, more blood seeping out.
In the few moments of Arthur's hesitation, Merlin could see the glint of something metal in Pellion's hand. He took his chance and plunged the dagger forward.
Merlin acted just as fast and with a silent spell, the blade missed and flew from Pellion's grip.
He'd secretly wished that that would be it. That Pellion's defenselessness meant that he would meet a quick death. That Merlin could go back and have Gaius heal him while he told the tale of another of his and Arthur's adventures.
Arthur apparently had other plans.
"I'm not as noble as they say I am. Otherwise, you'd be dead already." He carelessly threw his sword to the side, the sound of metal hitting the floor rattling through the chambers. Then Arthur punched him square in the nose. Then his ribs. His stomach.
Again.
And again.
And again.
"A couple of punches? Arthur, there's burn marks all of the way down his back! You tortured the boy!"
Merlin blinks back the memories to the present. "Burn marks down his back? But Arthur didn't-"
He cuts himself off, looking at his friend who's biting down so hard on his lip that he's drawn blood. And that's when he knows. Arthur did.
He went back last night after bringing Merlin to Gaius and tortured the knight who nearly killed his friend for who knows how much longer.
Arthur. Sweet Arthur who laughed at his jokes and had a smile so bright, it could light up a room. He had listened to a man scream in agony and gone back for more.
It was horrifying thought, him pressing that hot metal poker into Pellion's back again and again until he'd made a neat row of marks. Merlin was supposed to be the one with ambiguous morals. The one who chose Arthur's safety over everything else no matter what he had to do, who he had to get out of the way.
Arthur was supposed to chose Camelot, to be king Arthur the lionheart. Brave and honorable and worthy.
"Why did you do this? Your reputation-"
"Doesn't matter." Arthur is finally brave enough to meet his eyes.
Gaius silently excuses himself, not wanting to get caught in the middle of one of their rows.
"It does!" Merlin shouts. And the words come out hoarse and wrong, not the way he wants them to sound. He coughs but the pain doesn't ease.
"Shut up Merlin." Arthur scolds somehow, almost fondly. As if politely asking, would you please stop hurting yourself and be quiet for a goddamn minute? "I'm going to handle everything. You need to stop worrying about things that aren't in your job description. Now drink this."
Merlin takes the bottle from him, unsuccessfully attempting to open the cork with one splinted hand.
Arthur takes it back from him and pops it off, sniffing the insides. He throws his head back in disgust. "Glad it's not me drinking this goop. Open up."
He doesn't know why he listens. He's completely capable of tipping the elixir back into his mouth himself, but he opens his lips anyway.
Then the cold glass is pressed to his lips and Arthur's hand is in his hair, holding the back of his head. Merlin shivers. He wishes Arthur would touch him so tenderly more often. Preferably when he doesn't feel like shit.
And he's right. The mixture smells like Arthur's sweaty socks after training and the potion Gaius made him taste when there was a troll on the loose. He turns his head to the side to compose himself.
"Don't be such a wimp. Just drink it." Arthur puts the vial under his nose again and Merlin vigorously shakes his head. He's not ready yet.
But one of Arthur's defining traits is that he's impatient, so he kneels on the bed to get a better angle and with the hand in his hair, he turns Merlin's face toward him.
Arthur is beautiful in the warm sunlight, towering over him like that and the intensity of Arthur's eyes burning into his makes Merlin's breath catch in his throat. He subconsciously licks his lips.
He realizes what he's done a split-second too late and immediately regrets it. But Arthur's stunning eyes have dropped lower, gazing without shame at where Merlin's tongue left a wet mark on his bottom lip.
Suddenly, he doesn't regret it anymore.
"Arth-"
"Shhh." Arthur's fingers cover his mouth before he can figure out what he'd been attempting to say. Merlin doesn't know if he's being hushed because of his lost voice or because they're having a moment, but he hopes it's the latter.
His fingers leisurely drag down until they're just pressed to Merlin's lower lip, lightly easing his mouth open.
When Arthur replaces his four fingers with just a thumb, tracing along his flushed lip, something completely foreign to them and also sort of daring, Merlin does something even more daring that he'll probably regret. He darts his tongue out and tastes the tip of Arthur's thumb.
A jolt goes through Merlin when he doesn't pull away. There's definitely something happening, he just doesn't understand what.
Arthur tilts his chin up and presses the elixir to his lips again and as much as he wants the stuff as far away as possible to him, he also doesn't want Arthur to move, so he drinks all of it as it's poured into his mouth no matter how foul it is going down.
"See? That wasn't so hard."
"Bastard." Merlin quips back. But the mixture is already starting to help, so the insult is half-hearted.
Arthur sets aside the empty bottle and sits back. There's a few tense seconds of silence, neither of them knowing what to say, how far they can press the limits of their friendship.
"How did you know that I needed you?" Merlin hesitantly asks, because Arthur seems to be in his own head, working something complicated out. "When Pellion was beating me, how did you know? You were sleeping in your chambers."
He just asks, "Why didn't you try to defend yourself?"
"Answer the question."
"You answer mine first."
Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes. "I did try to defend myself. He's a knight, I'm just a servant. Your turn."
"I don't know how I knew you were in trouble. It's. . . Hard to explain."
"Can you at least try?"
Arthur says, "I have to know something first. To be sure."
"Okay?"
"Are you hiding something from me Merlin?"
Merlin's face goes slack for a moment of panic before regaining his earlier look of curiosity. Arthur must not know. It isn't. . . It isn't time yet. He shakes his head and adds a shrug of his shoulders for good measure. "I don't think so. Unless it's that Gwaine and I have been sneaking out of the palace to visit the tavern on a regular basis."
"Gwaine and you-" Arthur starts before he realizes that he's fallen for the change in topic. "Don't try to distract me. I'm being serious."
"I'm being serious too! There's nothing I've been keeping from you!" The blunt denial makes his cheeks pinken so he scoots until he's laying down. Though the blankets aren't nearly long enough for him to cover his face, so he turns onto his side away from Arthur. "You can leave now. I'm sleeping."
"Merlin please."
"No, I'm very tired."
"You just woke up," Arthur reasons.
"I'm resting my eyes. You're disturbing my peace."
There's a blanket of silence after that and Merlin thinks that perhaps he will leave after all, but there are no retreating footsteps or a click of his bedroom door.
Instead, there is a hand on his arm and a weight thrown over him as he's pushed onto his back, held in place with no way of hiding away from interrogations and eyeful scrutiny.
Merlin screws up his face in pain because of the bruises on his back. Arthur, who had been previously straddling him, lets his weight off in alarm.
"What happened? Is it your ribs? I didn't hurt your ribs did I?"
"No." Merlin opens his eyes to find Arthur above him on all fours, brilliant eyes looking back at his, wide with worry. Suddenly it's hard to breathe or speak for that matter and not because of his sore throat. He stutters out, "Not my ribs. It's. My back. My- I didn't tell you. . ."
"Merlin," he scolds lightly, because he obviously feels bad for being the one to inflict the pain. "Why don't you tell me things?"
"I didn't want to see you hurting that man anymore. If I had told you that he'd kicked me, you would've killed him."
"I still might," Arthur admits darkly. His warm breath carries down and tickles Merlin's nose. "How many times did he kick you?"
"It isn't important."
"It is to me."
"I don't know. I lost count."
Arthur drops his head, so Merlin cannot see what expression his face holds.
Merlin grips his wrist tightly, afraid that he might go running back to Pellion's beside and actually strangle him to death.
He doesn't. He looks at Merlin's hand, then at Merlin. His face is pensive as he says, "He shouldn't have hurt you. You understand why I had to do what I did."
"No I don't understand. I've never seen you that way before. I don't want to see you like that ever again. Promise me I won't have to."
"I promise."
"You're above torture and humiliation alright? You need your people's trust. Don't sacrifice that for me."
"I'm sorry," Arthur relents. He doesn't mock or assert his power by reminding Merlin that he's the king and can do what he likes. "I made a snap decision. I forget that I have a kingdom to rule sometimes."
"It's alright. At least you knocked his pride down quite a few levels. That was satisfying."
"It was," Arthur admits and becomes serious once more.
His opens his mouth to say something. Shuts it. Opens again.
"Can you do magic?" He asks it shyly, as if he might be wrong and made to look like a fool. It's a random question that allows no time at all for preparation.
There is no escaping. No way to wriggle his way out from under Arthur's body and waiting stare. Perhaps he knew that when he'd wanted to ask the question. He knew that Merlin would try to run or hide because he's such an awful liar.
There is no other way to get out of this situation except to be completely honest. He'd pictured a thousand different scenarios, different battles, different accidents in which his magic might be revealed. Never would he have thought it would happen with Arthur mere inches from him, hovering so close that he could memorize every line of the king's face. Every divot, dimple, and bone that is so distinctly Arthur.
"I was born with it." He tries to say the words with confidence as he had with Agravaine. With Uther just weeks ago. They come out as a whisper. Ashamed and meek, as if he'd admitting to an unforgivable crime.
For so many years he'd listened to Arthur talk about the evil nature of sorcery and those who practice it. To imagine all of the foul things he'd said about them running through Arthur's head and associating them with Merlin now, makes him feel like a traitor and a fraud.
Arthur nods. An understanding nod or a contemplative nod, he can't be sure. He doesn't jump away in horror or draw his sword to defend himself. He doesn't shout or spew hurtful names.
He sinks down onto his forearms and looks. Merlin doesn't know what exactly he's looking for, but his eyes dart this way and that, studying him. For any sign of evil? For regret? Secret motives?
The tip of Arthur's nose brushes his when his eyes finally land on Merlin's, locking there. It's seems as if the gaze holds a thousand different moments shared between them, all of the harmless insults passed and loyalty made known.
"Would you give it up?" Arthur's fresh bath smell is more potent now and his breath is sweet and warm. Merlin's lips ache with a want he didn't know needed to be filled so badly. "For me?"
This time, confidence comes easy for him as he says, "I cannot give up something that isn't mine, Arthur. My magic, me, all of it is yours. It has been since the day I opened my eyes. Everything I am." because he's never been more sure of something before.
Arthur is dumbstruck, his eyebrows furrowed in awe and confusion. "I don't know what to do with that Merlin."
"You'll figure it out. It is your destiny to be the greatest king, Camelot has ever known and it is mine to be right by your side. And I'll willingly keep to that. Banishment or otherwise."
"I don't want to banish you," Arthur admits.
"Good." Merlin is relieved before he asks with some very poorly hidden concern, "Are you going to anyway?"
"I don't know." He hangs his head in frustration, his forehead resting on Merlin's chest.
"It would be rather difficult to protect you from so far away. I could refuse to leave but then you'd have to put me in a cell. You know what? I'll just pretend to leave and hide somewhere in the palace instead. Or-"
"You're not going anywhere."
"Really?" Merlin says and tentatively reaches up to pet Arthur's golden hair. His muscles relax just a bit, so he runs his fingers through it as a comfort.
"You made your point very clear that you'd never actually leave so why even try to banish your stubborn ass?"
Then there is nothing but the sound of Arthur's heavy breathing. There will be more questions, Merlin knows. But not right now. Not when they're both still trying to recover from the shock of it.
Right now, he curls and uncurls Arthur's hair between his fingers in a steady rhythm, unspoken words of trust communicated just through that gesture.
"Do you think I'm evil?" Merlin asks because it's something he has to know.
Arthur lifts his head and without hesitation, declares, "No. There are many things about you that are still a mystery to me Merlin, but the one I know without a doubt to be truth is that you are nothing less than good and honorable."
"What if I told you I killed people?"
"I'd say that you probably had a good reason."
"Arthur?"
"Yeah?"
"How did you know I had magic?"
"It reached out to me."
"What did?" Merlin urges.
"Your magic. Last night I had a feeling that you needed me. It was like being startled awake and having a horrid weight on my chest because I knew something was happening to you."
It is an odd thing that he has no recollection of doing any magic. Even odder that he hadn't done any involuntary sorcery since he was a boy. "You couldn't have known that that was my magic."
"There were wisps of blue smoke tugging at me, urging me to get out of bed. Your magic put on my sword belt and brought me my sword. It was as if you were there, but you weren't. Like you were getting me ready for battle yourself. Every touch of the blue wisps felt like the feathery tingle of your fingertips."
"You have my touch memorized?"
"No, I-" color rises high on Arthur's cheeks as he tries to explain. "I don't know how to explain it. I just knew it was you okay?"
"Arthur?" Merlin interrupts his rambling. Talking has become dull and tiresome.
"Yes?"
"Will you kiss me?"
He can tell Arthur's breathing has sped up because he can feel every puff of it on his lips. Somehow, the pink of his cheeks becomes even darker.
"Yes," He sighs. Arthur sounds relieved in a way that is as if he'd been waiting years for that question.
He doesn't have to move far, he just crooks his head to the side and closes the few inches between them.
At first, Arthur is slow and inquiring, the press of his lips soft and the caress of his fingers along Merlin's neck faint, not really there at all. It's like he's waiting for Merlin to push him away and leave him lonely and empty as so many have before.
He wraps his arms around Arthur, assuring him that he'll never do that, that he wants to keep all of these new feelings for as long as he can. .
Then Arthur's kisses become more wanting and uncontrollable. Merlin's breathing becomes heavier each time he finds the strength to wait a few seconds before reconnecting their kiss-swollen lips.
Why had they let time slip past so quickly when they could've been sharing this kind of vulnerability years ago, when they had just been boys with little responsibility and no kingdom to run? He feels completely satisfied. Like there had been something missing before and now he is whole.
Every brush of Arthur's tongue sends something crackling through his veins.
Every one of Arthur's touches makes him feel like a god.
Arthur pulls away and there's a sharp intake of breath. "Merlin open your eyes."
When he does, they widen in amazement.
The room is alight with the color blue. Wisps like the ones Arthur had talked about, dance through the air and swirl in the golden light from the window like fish in a pond.
Blue butterflies float dreamily above them and light up the corners of the room that had been dark before.
But the most beautiful sight is Arthur. He glows with an aura that matches the summer sunlight. Merlin's magic curls around him and through him in a tight embrace, creating golden butterflies that dance around the blue ones over his head.
He smiles and Merlin smiles and when Arthur laughs his genuine two-syllable laugh, Merlin laughs along with him until those sounds are replaced with the sounds of their sloppy kisses.
"Your eyes are pretty when they glow." Arthur's whisper is accompanied with a besotted grin.