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One of the many duties of the Prince’s Manservant was to provide assistance in dressing and undressing His Royal Highness for the day. It was a high honour, to be permitted so close to the Crown Prince, to see him in one of his most vulnerable states. The manservant was to strip the His Highness bare in the morning, dress him in his best clothes for his daily duties, and repeat the process to ready him for bed in the evening. It was one of the highest forms of trust between servant and royal.
At least, that was what the public believed.
“Arthur, I’ve been in your service for ten years now, if I were anyone else, I would begin to believe you don’t trust me,” Merlin sighed, leaning against one of the posts.
“Are you saying you want to dress and undress me?” Arthur called back from behind the partition as he tugged on his sleeping breeches. “Really, you should be happy I’ve never asked you to—less work for you. But if you wanted to undress me that badly…”
“No—no, I just,” Merlin rushed out, choking on his words. Arthur bit back a smirk. He knew without even looking that his manservant’s face was bright red, just from the flustered tone. “Well, I mean, now, Arthur, you’re twisting my words.”
“I would never,” Arthur swore, voice serious despite the grin tugging at his lips.
There was a small huff from the other side of the partition and Arthur sighed. He let his shoulders relax and his arms fall to his sides, leaving his tunic untied. Then, dressed, and ready to turn in for the night, he stepped out and into sight.
Merlin pushed away from the bedpost and looked at Arthur. His eyes trailed quickly over Arthur’s body, a frown marring his brow as he bit his lip. He looked hesitant. Conflicted.
Arthur frowned.
“Merlin?” he asked, crossing the room to stand in front of him. He rested a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, tilting his head as he looked at him. “Is there something on your mind?”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, deep eyes searching his face. For what, Arthur wasn’t sure. Then, Merlin’s shoulders sagged under his hand, and he locked eyes with him. There was such open vulnerability in his gaze that it almost frightened him. And when he spoke, so hesitant and unsure, Arthur felt like dying of shame.
“Do you trust me, Arthur?” he asked so faintly, so softly.
“Of course, I do,” replied Arthur, honest and full of conviction. “I trust you with my life.”
“But not with dressing you.”
There was a tone of faint irony to his words, a small, sardonic smile pulling at his lips. Arthur grimaced. When Arthur failed to answer fast enough, Merlin let out a sigh and shook his head. Gently, he pulled Arthur’s hand off his shoulder.
“You know, Sire, the littlest things say the loudest words,” he murmured, hurt glimmering in his eyes. The title, spoken genuinely rather than mockingly, felt like a blade to the gut. Merlin took a step back, opening his mouth as if to speak again, before shutting it and shaking his head. “It was really hard for me to tell you about my magic, but I did, because I trust you. I only wish that trust was shared. Goodnight. I hope you sleep well.”
And just like that, before Arthur could even think to call him back—to explain—he was gone. Walking out of Arthur’s chambers with sagging shoulders.
Arthur needed to fix this.
He didn’t fix it the next morning, though. Nor did he fix it the next evening.
Merlin avoided eye contact, refused to return his quick jabs and witty remarks all day. He was perfectly deferential, distant, and didn’t once overstep boundaries. He didn’t even drop a single tray.
It was awful.
And really, how pathetic was that. A perfect servant was Arthur’s worst nightmare.
Any other time, he would have laughed at the irony.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fix it. He did—desperately. He hated when Merlin was upset with him. It was miserable. He hated the unfamiliarity and the forced formality. He hated the perfect meals and subservience.
He hated it all.
He just… Well, he wasn’t sure how to fix things.
Arthur knew there was one thing he could do, but it—well, there was a reason he dressed and undressed himself every day.
A part of him felt guilty for the secret he kept from Merlin, especially as Merlin had been so open with him about his magic…And here Arthur was, keeping such an intrinsic part of himself from Merlin.
Maybe that was why he had accepted Merlin’s magic so fast.
Maybe it was the side of him that understood being forced to hide something like that.
Arthur rolled his shoulders slightly, cringing as the fabric of his shirt rubbed against his back.
His father had gone to such lengths to make sure no one found out about what was hidden beneath his tunic. He had made sure no one would find out… Raised Arthur to be ashamed, raised him to never want anyone to find out…
Yet, Merlin had probably been raised similarly with his magic, hadn’t he? Of course, with more love. Hunith was a darling woman who obviously cared deeply for her son. She would have raised Merlin to make sure no one found out about the fire under his skin.
Out of love and fear for his safety, though, rather than shame and disgust for a curse.
Still, though, he had surely been raised never to speak a word...but he told Arthur anyway.
Because he trusted him…
Maybe it was time Arthur trusted Merlin.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Arthur put his plan into motion. Merlin was still giving him the cold shoulder, treating him like just another noble, and Arthur was going crazy. He dressed himself the evening before, per usual, though, and forced himself to bed with not a small amount of anxiety.
And when morning came, and Arthur stumbled out of bed, he steeled himself before stopping in front of the partition and looking at Merlin.
“Merlin?” he asked, much like he had two nights before.
“Yes, sire?” Merlin kept his eyes low as he spoke, his tone completely void of any of his usual playfulness, teasing, or mocking. It made Arthur’s skin crawl. The way he just acted like they were nothing. They were so much more. They’d been dancing around it for so long, but—they were…so much more.
He took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Ask me again.”
There was a pause.
“What?”
Merlin looked at him—oh, gods he finally looked him in the face—with a raised eyebrow, confused. “Ask you what again?”
Arthur blinked slowly. Did he not remember? No, he had to. He was still treating Arthur like he didn’t know him. He had to remember. Arthur sighed.
“The other day, you asked me…if I trusted you…” he explained. When recognition dawned on Merlin’s face, he quickly repeated himself before he could look away. “Ask me again.”
“Arthur—” he nearly wept at the sound of his name falling past Merlin’s lips in a sigh, “—what are you doing? I’m not going to go through this again with you.”
“No—no, Merlin, ask me again,” Arthur pressed, leaning forward just a touch.
Merlin went silent, his eyes locked critically on Arthur’s face. Then, he huffed out a breath and crossed his arms. “Fine,” he said, “do you trust me?”
“I want you to ready me for my day.”
Merlin stared at him blankly for a moment like he was a fool. Then, he crossed his arms over his chest. “If you think that’s going to make me feel better…”
“I don’t think you understand.” Arthur took a step closer forcing himself to relax. “I want you to dress me.”
Merlin’s eyes steadily widened. “I…oh. Ah, okay. Um, you’re—you want me to?”
“I do…but, you have to know,” Arthur sighed, looking away, “there’s something about me you don’t know—something you will find out… Don’t think me different. I’ll explain, I promise.”
The look his words received him was surely suspicious, he knew without even seeing. Nonetheless, he heard Merlin step forward, before there were careful fingers pulling at the strings of his tunic.
Arthur held his breath and closed his eyes. As Merlin pulled off his tunic, he clenched his jaw, waiting for the inevitable. His tunic fell to the floor, and from his back spread two tawny wings. They weren’t small but they weren’t massive either, their growth having been stunted from years of being forced and cramped under shirts and armour.
Their mere existence filled Arthur with shame.
A soft gasp echoed through his chambers as Arthur stretched out his wings on instinct.
“You were hiding them,” Merlin murmured, then, after a moment’s hesitance, “why?”
Arthur opened his eyes and gave Merlin a look. His heart stuttered when he saw the awed expression on his face as Merlin stared at the wings protruding from his back. At the look, Merlin snapped back to reality and gave him a small, sheepish grin.
“Right. Your father…”
“Right,” Arthur confirmed.
A moment of silence passed, and Merlin started to raise a hand before pausing halfway and dropping it. Confliction coloured his face as he looked from Arthur's wings to his face.
“Can I…can I touch them?” he asked softly.
Touch them… No one had really touched them before—aside from Arthur. The idea sent a thrill through Arthur. Slowly he nodded.
Merlin’s eyes lit up at the silent consent, and he carefully reached back towards the underdeveloped wings. His fingers brushed around the brown feathers ever-so-lightly. Arthur’s breath caught, a shiver running down his spine.
“How did you get them?” Merlin looked at his face finally, meeting his eyes. “Were you born with them?”
Arthur shook his head. “I was cursed when I was only just learning to walk. A sorceress came and cursed me with these wings—and my father… well, he had me hiding them my entire life. This is—you’re the first person I’ve shown them.”
“Arthur…”
“Merlin, I—” he cut himself off abruptly, looking away. “You don’t think me strange?”
“Of course, not!” Merlin gasped, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. Arthur’s heart skipped. “They’re…beautiful. You’re beautiful. I love them.”
“I love you.”
Merlin inhaled audibly, his fingers faltering where they gently stroked the underside of Arthur’s right wing. Arthur glanced back at him nervously. He hadn’t really meant to say it. It just slipped out. The moment—it felt so intimate, and he couldn’t stop the confession from spilling off his tongue.
“I love you, too,” Merlin breathed, and Arthur nearly sobbed in relief.
“Well, that’s a relief, otherwise, that would have been really embarrassing,” Arthur joked, trying to mask the open vulnerability his confession brought. Merlin just hummed, dropping his hand from Arthur’s wing before wrapping his arms around his neck.
“Lucky for you, the only thing embarrassing is that you’re half naked and I’m still woefully dressed,” Merlin teased, mimicking the forlorn sigh of a distressed maiden.
Arthur snorted at the words, shaking his head. He wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist and gently tugged him closer.
“I hope that was a joke,” he retorted with an amused grin, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know I’m not quite that easy.”
Merlin cocked an eyebrow, mirroring Arthur’s expression. “Oh? Shall I court you like a blushing princess, then?”
“Now, hold on—”
“In that case,” Merlin continued as if Arthur hadn’t cut him off, slipping out of his hold and stepping back. A cheeky grin stretched across his face. “I believe you have a council meeting to get ready for.”