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“Have you ever flown?”
Merlin’s hands fumbled over the duvet at the question, as he tried to make Arthur’s bed. He took a deep breath and looked over to where he stood by the window, an eyebrow cocked in question.
Arthur glanced back, and presumably noting his confusion, waved a hand vaguely at his back. “You know—with your wings. Have you ever flown?”
“Oh, right.” Merlin frowned, returning to making the bed. He’d told Arthur about his magic two fortnights ago, and subsequently, his wings. The big, but not massive, leathery, dark wings that he still hid behind a glamour despite being appointed Court Sorcerer and magic being lawful once more. It was easy to forget it had all been real, when he still brought Arthur his food and made his bed and dressed him, as he had before…
“You know you don’t have to do that anymore,” Arthur sighed, almost as if reading his mind. “George is my new servant, and he gets quite distressed when he discovers you’ve done his work.”
“Habit, I suppose,” Merlin muttered, before giving up and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “No, I’ve—I haven’t flown, before.”
“Why not?”
Merlin shrugged, laying back against the mattress and staring up. He heard Arthur’s footsteps approaching and suppressed a smile when he felt the bed shift from his weight as he sat beside Merlin.
“My wings…they’re not the flying kind,” he explained vaguely, “I mean, and they didn’t even exist before my father—um, before my father died…” Merlin paused, falling quiet for a moment, before shaking his head and sighing. “They’re about as big as they’ll get now—that’s what Kilgharrah says, at least, but they’re more…a symbol of status, a visible brand that I’m a dragonlord. Supposed to make me special and revered.”
“Do they not?”
“Arthur.”
“Right, right, Camelot.”
Merlin snorted softly, closing his eyes.
“So, what’s the point of having them, then?” Arthur pressed. Merlin watched him roll onto his side to face him, out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, you must be able to fly to some extent. You wouldn’t…grow? I assume you grew them—you wouldn’t grow wings, that are unable to let you fly. That just sounds, well, pointless! You have to be able to fly a little.”
“Boy, do I have news for you…”
“What? What does that mean?”
“Arthur, have you not—you do know chickens don’t fly, right?” Merlin asked, sitting up and looking down beside him at Arthur.
“I mean, well, but that’s different,” Arthur insisted. “They do sometimes…Whatever.”
When Merlin just snorted, amused, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, when we’re alone, you really don’t need the glamour, Merlin.”
He knew he didn’t. He just… “I’m still getting used to that,” he mumbled.
Arthur eyed him for a moment, silent. Then, he nodded and clapped his hands.
“Right, then, let it down,” he ordered, “shirt off, wings out. I’d like to see them.”
Merlin blinked a few times, startled. Then, at Arthur’s expectant expression, he let out a sigh and stood up. He ignored the way Arthur’s eyes locked onto him as he pulled off his tunic and let it drop to the floor.
“I never would have guessed you’d have a thing for wings,” Merlin hummed as he let his glamour fall. Slowly, two large, leathery, dark wings glimmered into sight. They were blue—but it was just barely possible to tell unless light was glinting off them, they were such a deep shade.
“I do not have a thing for wings,” Arthur muttered, despite his eyes tracking each flutter of movement as Merlin stretched them out. “You just…look so gorgeous…”
Merlin’s face burned at the compliment.
“Lay down,” he ordered, clearing his throat. Arthur raised an eyebrow but moved so he was in the center of the bed and laid down.
Merlin stared at him for a moment, then climbed back onto the bed himself and sat beside Arthur. He pulled Arthur into a sitting position for a moment, just long enough to wrap his arms and wings around his body, then, he laid down on the mattress with Arthur wrapped securely in his embrace.
Arthur hummed, snuggling into his hold. “And this, I like this.”
“This what you wanted, right?” Merlin questioned.
“Yeah…” Arthur nodded, pressing his face into Merlin’s bare chest. “Always like this.”
Merlin snorted softly but didn’t tease him. He loved him so much… He wouldn’t do anything to risk not getting to see his vulnerability from Arthur. It was endearing and sweet and a side that no one else got to see—he felt special. “I love you…”
A moment passed, then Arthur looked up to his face. “I love you, too,” he murmured.
Comfortable silence fell over them. Merlin relaxed, wings a safe guard around them both, and let his eyes fall shut. Then, just as he began to fall asleep, Arthur spoke again, insistence in his tone,
“Are you sure you can’t fly?”