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Chapter Text

"Are there really that many settlements?"

"And Kilgharrah suspects there may be some more in the lusher parts of the Darkling Woods and Gedref. The treetops block his view from the sky so we would have to check on foot."

Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"And if we add to this the visits to Nemeth and Caerleon..."

"Yeah, it would take me at least three months," Merlin concluded.

Arthur closed his eyes. Three months. Gods.

"And are we sure it's absolutely necessary?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Arthur, you know it is." 

Arthur grunted. 

"Come on, Arthur. You won't even notice I'm gone."

"Don't be an idiot. I am concerned for the safety of Camelot. To deprive our citadel of its Court Sorcerer for so long..."

Merlin chuckled.

"You didn't have a Court Sorcerer before and you never were worried about not having one," he noted.

"I guess you've got me used to it."

Merlin smiled softly.

"I will put magical defences and protective spells on every stone in the castle, don't worry."

Arthur frowned. How could he not worry? Merlin was going to be travelling all over Albion for three months, sleeping out in the open for many days, and Arthur would have no way of knowing how he was doing. He would have no way of arriving in time to protect him if he encountered any danger along the way. You know I can fend for myself, Merlin would say if he gave voice to his fears, but even knowing that Arthur would never be at ease. Merlin could fall ill and bleed like any other human being, Arthur had witnessed it too many times. 

"I wish I could go with you," he couldn't help confessing, running a hand through his hair.

"And I would like you to come. But we cannot deprive Camelot of its king for so long," Merlin pointed out without losing his sweet smile.

Arthur shrugged in an ambiguous gesture, not wanting to give in yet. He wanted to say something else, but he didn't quite know what. He wished he could put a name to the strange ache he felt in the centre of his chest every time Merlin spoke of leaving, but he didn’t know of any. He settled for looking Merlin in the eye, where he discovered a glimmer of understanding. 

His friend stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you too, Arthur," Merlin simply said.

Of course. Merlin always guessed what Arthur felt even when he didn't understand it himself. Arthur's own heart spoke to him in a language he did not know, but Merlin... Merlin had long since mastered it.

But despite that superpower of his that had nothing to do with his magic, this time his interpretation didn't seem as accurate as on other occasions. Missing hardly came close to the emptiness he felt at the prospect of three months away from Merlin.

Three months away from that smile, from those sharp and sweet eyes, from that boundless devotion. 

Three months without Merlin.

Arthur brought his right hand to his shoulder, to Merlin's hand, with the intention of gently withdrawing it, but something compelled him to leave it there and squeeze his friend’s fingers. 

There was something almost symbolic in the way his hand covered Merlin's protectively, something that almost communicated all that Arthur was feeling and did not know how to express. 

Merlin smiled at him and Arthur thought he understood.

Merlin studied the map Arthur had given him with a concentrated expression. His finger traced the route he would follow and Arthur watched attentively, making a suggestion here and there. 

If Merlin stopped to think about it, he could scarcely believe how easily they had both adapted to this new dynamic. They had taken to their new roles as if moving from being a servant to Court Sorcerer and Royal Advisor was not a drastic change but a natural step. He and Arthur now spent the day together as equals, making plans, discussing strategy, listening to each other. Talking about magic and druids and dragons as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if they had been doing it all their lives, as if they had been born to do exactly that.

And perhaps, if they heeded legends and prophecies, they really had.

In any case, magic was now part of their daily lives in Camelot and Merlin, despite all he had been through to get to this point, saw it now as another part of his routine. 

Maybe it was because his routine hadn't really changed that much. 

By some unspoken agreement, Merlin would still wake Arthur in the mornings with one of his made-up proverbs that Arthur so pretended to hate, and then they would sit down to have breakfast together and go over what they had scheduled for the day. Then they would go to some council or Round Table meeting together, and then Arthur would train while Merlin went over armour and weapons, repairing those that needed fixing and adding magical enhancements here and there. After training they would have lunch together again and then the afternoon, depending on the day, would drift into games, walks, more meetings, audiences or even a visit to the tavern with the knights, and they would do all of this together. Then they would dine, sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with Gwen and Lancelot, sometimes with all the knights, and after a glass of wine they would wish each other goodnight with more or less insults in between, depending on their moods and how watered down the wine had been. Merlin would then lie on his large and soft bed in his new chambers, and marvel at all that he had and had never dared to dream he would have: Arthur, knowing the truth, knowing him at last, and accepting him. 

"What do you think?"

"I can't raise any objection," Arthur admitted. "All that remains now is to agree on the day of departure."

Merlin bit his lip.

"In three days, at most. The time needed to prepare everything and pack. I think it's better to just… do it."

Arthur sighed.

"Good. You take Llamrei."

"Okay," Merlin agreed with a smile.

"And Gwaine."

"What? No way, no..."

Arthur raised a hand and looked at him sternly.

"I will not argue," he warned. "Gwaine is going with you. Period."

Merlin folded his arms and frowned, accepting defeat. 

"And believe me, I'm not adding Lancelot because it wouldn't be very considerate of me to send him on a three-month mission when he's just got married."

"Oh? Since when are you considerate?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

"When I'm not around you'll miss my chatter."

Arthur pouted and Merlin laughed heartily.

***

The next night Merlin noticed Arthur was quieter than usual. There was that wrinkle in his forehead that indicated he was deep in thought, and Merlin had to bite his tongue to keep from making a comment about how much he was worried that Arthur would hurt himself with all that thinking, considering he had no practice at all.

"Come on, what is it?" He couldn't hold it in any longer when he saw Arthur begin to undress without varying the gesture. "You've been thinking about something all evening. I'm beginning to worry."

Arthur glowered at him.

"You're an idiot."

"And you're a prat. But that's nothing new. So, what’s the matter?" asked Merlin, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the bedpost with his arms folded.

Arthur rolled his eyes and then sighed.

"I was thinking about Camlann," he said at last, and Merlin gasped at the name of the place that continued to haunt him in his worst nightmares. His demeanour softened instantly and he approached Arthur, concerned. "About the night before the battle," Arthur specified. "Don't freak out.”

Merlin took a deep breath. It was easy to say, and yet incredibly difficult to shake off the panic that he still felt at the memory of those days, the worst days . Merlin wanted to yell at him for reminding him of them at a time like this, as if he wasn't already worried enough at the prospect of spending so much time so far away from Arthur. 

"We defeated Morgana, you saved me, I'm fine and I'm not traumatised, can I go on now?"

"Clotpole," Merlin mumbled, but he had to make an effort to hold back a laugh. "Go on."

"You were in that cave and I was angry because you had left me alone."

Merlin shifted the weight of his legs uncomfortably.

"Yes."

"And I still remember perfectly well why you couldn't be with me, so I forbid you to feel guilty."

"Ugh, stop patronising me. What are you getting at?"

"What I mean is... you were miles away and yet you were able to contact me. You spoke to me and I heard you in my dreams. I was thinking it would be very useful. To have that possibility. Now that... You're going to be away and all that."

Merlin cocked his head to one side, weighing Arthur's words.

"I was trapped in the Crystal Cave and I used one of the crystals to communicate with you," he explained. "I could see you. I could see that you were fine, and..." 

He stifled an exclamation.

"Arthur! It's brilliant! You're a genius!"

Arthur grinned.

"Now you realise...?"

Merlin gave him a quick hug and Arthur mumbled something, red as a tomato, but Merlin paid him no attention.

"Come with me," he said, taking Arthur by the hand and dragging him behind him. 

"Merlin, may I remind you..."

"Yes, that you're the king and you give the orders, whatever. Come on," Merlin said, tugging him eagerly. 

Arthur grumbled something and followed him without resistance, and at some point Merlin registered that he had not let go of his hand, but he chose not to dwell on that detail, not when he was about to leave Camelot to spend three months away from Arthur. 

"Ah!" he said with satisfaction when he finally found the Crystal of Neahtid among the treasures stored in the vaults of Camelot. 

"The crystal that druid stole?"

"He wasn't exactly a druid. And he didn't actually steal it, Morgana did."

"Right."

"It comes from the same cave where Morgana trapped me. This one once showed me the future, but I bet it has the same properties as the one I used in the cave."

He closed his eyes and channelled his magic. The crystal drank from it and Merlin concentrated on his goal: to see Arthur.

The king gasped behind him, and Merlin opened his eyes. In the crystal he could see himself, standing beside Arthur, both of them staring intently at the crystal. Merlin smiled.

"See?" he said contentedly, and Arthur put his hands over his ears.

"Merlin! Don't talk so loud!" he complained. 

"I'm not talking loud," Merlin retorted and Arthur groaned.

"I can hear you inside my head too," he protested. "Bad enough I have to hear you with my ears, without having to hear you in my brain too. Cut that out."

Merlin laughed and retired his conscience from the crystal.

"Better?"

"Thank you."

Merlin's smile widened.

"With this I’ll be able to see and talk to you," he said, pressing the crystal to his chest. 

Arthur frowned and all hope evaporated from Merlin's body.

"You don’t want me to take it?" he asked in a whisper.

"No, it’s not that. It's just... I won’t be able to see you as well, will I?" said Arthur, and it was impossible not to notice the disappointment in his voice.

Merlin felt his heart melt against his ribs.

"I'm afraid not. I'm sorry Your Highness is going to be deprived of all this beauty but, well, this is better than nothing, isn't it?" Merlin joked in an attempt to cheer him up and, as he expected, Arthur snorted and gave him a little shove.

"Merlin,"

"Idiot," he completed.

"Exactly."

Merlin gave him a goofy grin and then, out of inertia, took his hand again. 

"Come on. I'll walk you to your chambers," he said gently. 

"Yes, Sire," Arthur mocked, but he squeezed his hand and began to walk without adding anything more.

***

The remaining day passed all too quickly, and before he knew it Merlin was standing by the stairs at the entrance of the castle, Llamrei saddled and loaded with provisions and Gwaine already mounted on his horse, vibrating with excitement at the prospect of an adventure with Merlin.

Merlin took his time in saying goodbye. He clasped the forearms of Percival, Leon and Elyan. Gwen, leaning on Lancelot and barely holding back tears, hugged him tightly and made him promise to be careful and return as soon as possible. Lancelot gave him a quick hug and wished him luck. Gaius hugged him as well and gave him a sack full of remedies and medicinal herbs. 

Then Merlin squared his shoulders and walked on shaky legs to Llamrei's flank, where Arthur was waiting holding the reins. 

Merlin counted to five, took a deep breath and gathered his courage before finally looking up at Arthur. The morning sun bathed his king, making his golden hair glow and painting his eyes the colour of the sea on a summer's evening.

Majestic. Beautiful. Arthur.

"Three months, then?" Arthur coughed.

"Hardly a season," Merlin smiled faintly. 

"You'd better be here on Samhain then, or I'll go after you myself and drag you back," Arthur warned. 

Merlin laughed and then sighed. Llamrei was growing impatient, but he did not feel able to move. His gaze was locked on Arthur's. His heart was pounding. There were so many things he would like to say to him... 

Arthur cleared his throat again and parted his lips as if to say something, only to seal them again. He let out a sigh, clenched his jaw, and pulled Merlin into a quick embrace with one arm.

"Be careful. And use that damned crystal once in a while," he murmured against his neck.

Before Merlin could react and return the hug, Arthur had already stepped back and was looking ahead solemnly. 

Merlin climbed into Llamrei's saddle with difficulty; his heart suddenly seemed to be several pounds heavier.

"Arthur," he said hastily as Gwaine spurred his horse. "You'll be alright, won't you?"

The corners of Arthur's lips twitched in the hint of a smile. 

"Of course I’ll be alright. I'm not the one who's going to spend three months living in the forest," he said, rolling his eyes.

Merlin took a deep breath.

"If you need me I'll be back as soon as possible."

"I know."

"I'm going to miss you," Merlin said, looking at Arthur intensely.

Arthur smiled slightly.

"Well, I’m not. I've still got George and his jokes about brass."

Merlin stifled a laugh.

"And now go already. I'm a very busy king."

"A very bossy prat, you mean."

"Get out of my sight, you idiot."

Merlin gave Arthur one last smile and followed Gwaine, leaving Camelot and Arthur behind for the first time in many years.

Chapter Text

The first time Merlin spoke to him through the crystal, two nights after his departure, he almost gave Arthur a heart attack. It was late at night and Arthur had just gone to bed, and he was just about to fall asleep when...

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice rang in his mind as clear as if the warlock were standing beside him.

Arthur jumped so hard he almost fell out of bed.

"Merlin?" he called, startled, looking around with wide eyes.

Merlin's sing-songy laughter bounced around his head. 

"I'm not there, dollop-head! I'm using the crystal."

Arthur dropped his head back on the pillow and covered his eyes with his forearm.

"I thought the crystal was for checking I was fine, not for committing regicide from afar," he growled, and Merlin laughed again.

"Don't be dramatic. How's it going?"

"Good." 

Gods, he really hoped the guards couldn't hear him talking alone from outside.

"How was the meeting with the council?"

"It was fine." Arthur could almost see Merlin's grimace of protest. "Alright, they tried to take advantage of your absence to criticise the legalisation of magic."

Somewhere in the back of his head Merlin cursed.

"Don't worry, I told them to sod off very tactfully."

Merlin chuckled and Arthur suppressed a sigh. 

"It's really weird to hear you in my head, you know?"

"You're certainly making a funny face."

"I bet yours is as ridiculous as ever."

“Not as ridiculous as yours though. From this angle you look a bit like a toad."

"Merlin."

Merlin just laughed.

"So, where are you?

"Somewhere in the forest. Tomorrow we will meet the first group of druids."

"Do you think you can give me a report in the evening?"

"I think so," said Merlin's voice, two tones livelier.

"Good luck then. See— no; hear you tomorrow."

"Sleep well, Arthur."

As sleep claimed him, Arthur wondered if Merlin was still seeing him through his magic crystal. The possibility should be unsettling, perhaps, but it gave Arthur a strange sense of security. 

Somehow, the thought of Merlin watching over his sleep was comforting. 

***

The following night Merlin spoke to him again, at about the same time, and Arthur got happily engaged in a conversation that was more an exchange of affectionate taunts and insults than an actual report. 

The same thing happened the next night. And then the next. And the next. 

Those late night conversations with a now invisible friend soon became routine and his favourite part of the day. Arthur looked forward to them. For a while, Merlin's voice would transport him into a little bubble that was just the two of them, where the world was reduced to their easy banter and became a kinder and better place. 

***

Even though he could hear his voice, Arthur's heart still ached. Arthur longed for Merlin's sparkling eyes and beaming smiles, for his funny ears and tousled hair. 

As the days went by, he perfected the art of differentiating the different nuances of Merlin's voice and imagining their corresponding expressions. He would close his eyes and see Merlin's eyes light up with a mischievous twinkle when he made a sarcastic remark, or the two dimples that adorned his cheeks when his voice revealed a goofy smile. He could see his gaze, as soft and warm as his voice when he wished him goodnight. He could see his smile, small and wistful, when they said goodbye until the next night. 

***

Sometimes Arthur remembered that Merlin did see him, and then he wondered whether he should dress up a little and sit regally at his desk and wait for Merlin to speak to him. He brushed the idea off as soon as it appeared. There was something intimate and special about the way he spoke to Merlin in whispers in the dark of night and in the comfort of his bed, neither of them the least bit concerned that his voice sounded slurred or his hair was spilled across the pillow. Arthur had never wanted Merlin to see him only as a king, and in those hours of the night Arthur was just a man who desperately missed his dearest friend. 

He would never have wanted anyone else to see him like that. But Merlin... Oh, Arthur wanted Merlin to see him like that every day and every night and every morning when he woke up, always.

If only he could see him too.

***

The days passed, slow and tedious, and then the weeks, lazy and interminable. Arthur felt like a caged lion. He paced the castle like a lost soul, in permanent battle with a growing frustration he didn't know where it came from, and not even the best intentions of Gwen and Lancelot could do anything to improve his foul mood. Most days Arthur had to make a great effort not to saddle Hengroen and gallop off to meet Merlin and Gwaine. 

At night, when Merlin's voice slid into his mind, soft and sweet as honey, Arthur feigned indifference and spoke lightly, and only allowed himself to complain jokingly about how much fun Gwaine and Merlin were having while he had to do politics, deal with council members and write speeches, and all that without Merlin's help. Merlin always replied that it was about time he learned to manage on his own, and that he was more than capable of doing all that without his help anyway, but then, when the conversation had moved on to other topics, he would make up travel anecdotes into which he subtly slipped suggestions and brilliant ideas. ‘You know? The other day a druid told me about how chores were divided up in the camp, and that got me thinking about…’ ‘A couple of nights ago we were in a tavern and we met this herald. He was pretty drunk, but he told us that his secret when it comes to writing speeches and attracting the attention of the public is to begin with…’

Arthur clasped his hands under his head and smiled, thinking how ridiculously adorable Merlin was. He liked to think he was so smart and sneaky, but to Arthur he was as transparent as water. A lifetime of covering up his magic with well-crafted half-lies had turned him into quite the raconteur, and Arthur was greatly amused to hear tale after tale, each one more implausible than the next. And perhaps it should offend him that Merlin thought him so fragile, so innocent, but above all it touched him that Merlin wanted to help him even when he was far away, always taking such great care of his self-esteem, as if he wanted to protect Arthur even from himself. So Arthur played along. ‘You know, that just gave me an idea. Do you think we could do something similar with...?’ ‘Mmm, he may have been drunk, but it doesn't sound that bad. I'm tempted to try it in my next speech.’

He could almost see Merlin's satisfied smile.

***

Sometimes he would look out of the window and watch the flight of the birds. A pair of swallows had nested under the battlement of one of the towers, and they used to frolic in the shreds of wind at sunset, chirping merrily, and for some reason they reminded Arthur of Merlin and him. And he thought that, if he had wings, he could go to Merlin every night and return in time to do his kingly duty every morning. 

***

A whole month passed. And just when Arthur was missing Merlin so much that he felt he was about to go mad, his friend's voice broke into his mind in the middle of a Round Table session.

"Sir Leon's reports are even duller when heard through a magic crystal."

Arthur jerked awake and startled Elyan, who was trying not to fall asleep next to him. Arthur looked around, almost convinced he would see Merlin in his servant's robes, leaning over his chair to whisper another irreverent remark in his ear, but he only heard his laughter.

"No, dollop-head, I'm still not there."

Arthur bit his tongue, knowing it was not a good idea to be seen apparently talking to himself in the middle of a meeting.

"I like talking to you when you can't talk back. I think I'm going to do it more often."

A smile spread over his face, irrepressible and broad. Sir Leon kept talking. The knights continued to doze. 

But Arthur's heart beat with renewed energy.

***

That was how Merlin got into the habit of sneaking into his mind when Arthur least expected it. The idiot apparently spent the day checking the crystal to try to catch him off guard, because there was no way to predict when he was going to make a comment. He would pop up here and there, at different times of his day. There were days when he would make just one comment, a single brilliant and hilarious observation, as if he had reserved all the wit of the day to condense it into a single smart remark, and then there were days when he would barely shut up, prattling on without actually saying anything and distracting Arthur from all his tasks.

"Mmm, Sire, are you aware that it's almost noon? Rise and shine, lazy daisy, up and at ‘em!"

"Lord Goldwyn is getting more and more stooped over. I’m telling you, he's going to trip over his own beard one of these days."

"Tell Gwen I love that dress. The Dolma would offer you at least three spells in exchange for a dress like that."

"You see that nobleman's daughter, the one in the pink dress? That one. She hasn't taken her eyes off you all through the reception. I'd watch your goblet if I were you. Seriously, Arthur. If I come back and you're married because of a love potion there's nothing I’ll be able to do but say 'I told you so'. And believe me I will. Many times over."

"Arthur, you're wearing your shirt inside out. Honestly..."

"Another banquet? I don't even want to think about how many holes I'm going to have to add to your belt when I’m back."

Sometimes it was sheer torture not to be able to answer him. And trying to contain the laughter every time was simply impossible. Arthur soon gave up and settled for trying to disguise his chuckles as coughs, sneaking in an insult whenever he could. On one occasion, Gaius asked him worriedly if he had caught a cold and offered him a cough potion, and Arthur struggled to remain straight-faced as he waved off his concerns and Merlin laughed uproariously in his head.

It was irritating and insufferable, so genuinely Merlin, that just like that his days stopped being so dull. He secretly loved not knowing when to expect Merlin's voice. He was constantly on edge, giddy with excitement, waiting, waiting, waiting. It was awful. It was great.

He still missed him, of course. His absence felt like a missing limb. But Arthur was immensely grateful that his friend had found a way to still be there with him, even if it was as a kind of ever-present, ever-annoying guardian angel. 

He would not tell Merlin how much it meant to him though. Instead, when Merlin contacted him at night, Arthur would retaliate, spouting curses and strings of insults, and Merlin would laugh out loud and say —and Arthur could see him, doubled up with laughter, hugging his stomach, his face congested, his eyes reduced to half moons, tears rolling down his cheekbones— ‘ You should have seen your face!’ And Arthur would pretend to be offended and insult him for at least five more minutes. 

Sometimes he worried that Merlin would take his complaints seriously, and he woke up in the mornings praying that he hadn't managed to convince Merlin to stop bothering him. 

As if Merlin would ever listen to him. 

***

A month and a half. 

A month and a half without Merlin. It struck Arthur that there were people in his kingdom who didn't even know Merlin was away. There were people who didn't even know Merlin existed. It was an inconceivable thought. How could people live without Merlin? How come they managed to breathe, day after day, without that inexhaustible source of life by their side?

What would his life have been like, if Merlin had not crept into it so shamelessly? Would he have always lived with an undefined emptiness in his chest, always incomplete, always miserable? Would he have been Arthur, without Merlin?

He preferred not to know the answer.

***

Two months. Sixty-one days. Day sixty-two found Arthur staring out of the window, his eyes fixed on the swallows. As if his melancholy had summoned Merlin, in some corner of his mind someone who was definitely not his own conscience took a loud gasp of air with a considerable dose of drama.  

"Is that a grey hair?"

It was a stupid remark, like so many others, and yet for Arthur it was like a divine revelation. He was suddenly aware of the passage of time, of how young he had been when he first met Merlin, of how much they had grown together since then. And he realised that he wanted to continue maturing and growing old by Merlin's side. He wanted Merlin to be there to be the first to discover each and every one of his grey hairs, and he wanted to hear everything he had to say about them. He wanted, he wanted... He wanted Merlin.

His heart filled with a feeling that Arthur had never before experienced with such intensity and which could be nothing other than… love . Arthur had been unsuccessfully searching for years for a name for that warm and overwhelming feeling that always appeared in the company of his former servant, and at that moment it simply came to his lips as a simple and indisputable truth.

Love. The feeling was there, clear as day, rooted in his heart and blooming for the first time in his mind, intimately linked with a proper name. Merlin .

Arthur leaned his head against the pillar framing the window. Outside, the leaves of the trees were beginning to turn various shades of brown. It was more than halfway through the season, and the swallows would soon be leaving. The world was painting itself in the colour of melancholy, and his love was far away.

But he would be back soon. And Arthur could wait a little longer. 

For Merlin... For Merlin he would wait a thousand years.

Chapter Text

Merlin had thought that being away from Arthur would be difficult, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer agony that it actually was. It wasn't just the constant worry, the fear that something would happen to him and Merlin would be unable to get there in time to save him. No, it was much more. 

Merlin had always believed that it was Arthur who, after ten years of depending on him, did not know how to live without Merlin. Merlin had always thought himself more independent. After all, even though he loved him to bits, Arthur had a tendency to be insufferable, so Merlin had taken it for granted that the distance would be partly a respite that would do their relationship good. He would never have imagined that he would feel Arthur's absence as a physical wound.

He missed him so much it hurt. Every hour, every minute, every second of the day. He missed him. So much. So damn much.

***

The first day of the journey he managed to stay away from the Crystal of Neahtid because there was no reason to use it so soon. They made camp at nightfall and Gwaine told him of all the taverns they would encounter on their journey, pointing out the ones they should avoid —the reasons were varied: 'bad ale' or 'they aren’t very fond of me’ or 'I'm a little worried about the possibility of finding out I have a bastard child there'— and the ones they could not miss —in this case the reasons were invariably 'a delicious apple pie' or 'an equally delicious barmaid I have not yet had the pleasure of tasting'. Merlin listened to his anecdotes with amusement, and then he recounted the occasion when he and Arthur had stayed at an inn where there was only one room with one bed. Arthur had said that he would sleep on the floor, because everything was so filthy that he was sure there would be bedbugs in the sheets, and Merlin had got crossed and told him that if he found the idea of sleeping with him so horrible he should just say so. Arthur had lain on his bedroll and Merlin had appropriated the bed, both giving each other the silent treatment. But it turned out that there really were bedbugs and Merlin couldn't stop scratching, and Arthur eventually told him to stop being so proud and sleep with him on the floor. Merlin had soon given up and jumped out of bed to scratch himself furiously, and while he was painting his skin red with his nails, Arthur had silently prepared his bedroll and placed it right next to his, and when Merlin finally lay down Arthur whispered to him that he did not mind sleeping next to him, Merlin, how can you be such an idiot, and Merlin replied that he had to admit that his company was slightly better than that of the bedbugs.

When he finished his story, Gwaine said nothing, just looked at him with a smirk.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That smile definitely means something."

"I just find it funny."

"What?"

"That you only have one topic of conversation."

"Which is…?"

"Arthur."

Merlin blinked several times and then snorted.

"Well, obviously. Since I entered his service I’ve had no life of my own."

"Yes, that’s obviously it," Gwaine said as his smile widened.

Merlin tossed him the bone of the piece of dried rib he had just gobbled down, and Gwaine laughed. Then he let out a yawn, lay down and fell asleep almost instantly. 

Merlin lay awake for much longer, staring into the flames and thinking of Arthur sleeping next to him on that hard and cold floor.

***

It was the second night, Gwaine was snoring happily, and Merlin tossed and turned in his bedroll, wondering how the council meeting had gone in his absence. It occurred to him that perhaps that was a good reason to contact Arthur. After all, he was now a council member, and should be informed of everything that went on there. Arthur would still be awake; he usually went to bed late, because he liked to dine calmly and enjoy a few hours of peace and quiet before bedtime. 

Merlin crept to his feet and moved a little away from Gwaine and the campfire. Leaning against a tree trunk, he pulled the crystal from its bag with trembling fingers and bit his lip, nervous. What if Arthur was angry? What if he had only agreed to let him have the crystal for emergency use only? What if he was worried that Merlin would use it to spy on him?

Then he was assaulted by the memory of Arthur's warm breath against his neck, of that ‘ Use that damned crystal once in a while’ and he didn't give it a second thought. He focused, thought of Arthur and when he opened his eyes there was his friend curled up in his bed, blinking sleepily, soft, warm, Arthur.

"Arthur?" Merlin whispered, almost breathless.

Arthur jumped to his feet and looked around him with wide eyes.

"Merlin?"

Merlin couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm not there, dollop-head!" he said with a chuckle. "I'm using the crystal."

They talked. And in the end Arthur asked him in his own way to contact him again the next night, and Merlin's heart skipped a beat because yes, of course, of course he wanted to speak to him again the next day, and the truth was that he was already counting the hours until he would see him again.

They wished each other goodnight, but Merlin was still slow to retreat his consciousness from the crystal. Arthur fell asleep with a placid smile on his lips, and Merlin looked at him, watching over his sleep like a guardian angel.

***

Merlin used the crystal again the next night, and the next, and the next. They didn’t really talk about anything relevant. They just... talked. He would always find Arthur in bed, his torso bare and his soft hair scattered across the pillows, and Merlin would have to suppress countless sighs. Sometimes he felt a little guilty, being able to see Arthur like this, in such an... intimate way, but then he remembered that Arthur didn't seem to mind in the slightest, and a warm feeling spread through his chest. 

***

Gwaine found out about the crystal not long after. They were staying at an inn and the knight had disappeared some time before behind the bar with one of the barmaids. Taking advantage of his absence, Merlin had contacted Arthur from the quiet of their shared room, and just as Arthur had fallen asleep, Gwaine stumbled into the room.

"Gwaine!"

"What the hell is that?" he said with surprising sobriety.

"Nothing."

"It seems like something to me."

"It's a crystal. See?"

"And why are you gawking at a crystal with that besotted face?"

"What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the night with that girl."

"Well, we had a lovely time together but I very much prefer spending the night here with you. What's this, then?" He snatched the crystal from his hands and Merlin let out an alarmed cry. "Is it magic?"

"Yes, Gwaine, and it's very dangerous. Can you give it back to me, please?"

"Of course. What does it do?" asked Gwaine, holding the crystal out to him nonchalantly.

"Many things." Gwaine raised an eyebrow and Merlin sighed. "Alright, I can use it to see things that have happened, things that are happening, or things that are going to happen."

"Oh," Gwaine squinted at him and then gave a crooked smile. "I see. Let me guess. You were using it to spy on Arthur."

"What? I don't spy on Arthur! For one thing, he knows I have it. And I use it to talk to him."

"Really? Hey, that's cool. How does it work?"

"Well... with magic."

"I should have seen that coming," Gwaine chuckled. "Tell me, how is it going in Camelot?"

Merlin shrugged.

"Fine, I guess. There's no news."

"And how is our dear king doing? Hey, can you tell him something for me?"

"Well… Not right now. He's already asleep," Merlin admitted.

Gwaine laughed.

"Oh, Merlin. Do you watch him while he sleeps?"

Merlin blushed.

"No. Yes. I mean. We talk and sometimes he falls asleep. It's not like I can help it."

"No, of course you can't," smiled Gwaine, lying down on his bed. "You miss him, don’t you?"

"Yeah," Merlin sighed, putting the crystal in its pouch. "I've been protecting him for so many years that it feels weird not being there to look after him. I need to know he's okay. Is that weird?"

"No. I guess it isn't."

***

Merlin saw Arthur every night. But through a crystal. Sometimes he hated it. 

Seeing him was not enough. Merlin was used to Arthur's constant presence, to feeling him in a physical way. His hands missed the firmness of his shoulders, his fingers longed for the softness of his hair, his nose missed his scent. Merlin had spent ten years dressing and washing Arthur and combing his hair, he had spent ten years tending to his body as if it were part of his own, and even when he had ceased to be his servant he had continued to do some of those things because neither of them had wanted to say goodbye to their little sacred routines, and now he felt something was missing.

Now he had to settle for caressing the surface of a crystal with care and longing.

Some nights were especially difficult. Arthur would complain about all his  responsibilities lightheartedly, but Merlin could tell that he was genuinely upset about something. There was this small wrinkle between his eyebrows, this grey hue in his blue eyes that spoke of misery and that Merlin never failed to notice. They usually meant that Arthur had got lonely or that he was doubting himself again, and so, whenever he spotted them, Merlin tried to cheer him up and then he came up with silly stories with which he subtly offered Arthur some practical ideas he thought that could help him in his duties, and all without risking making him feel any less capable.

It was awful, seeing Arthur hurt and not being there to offer him his comfort.

But at least Arthur always smiled with his stories and then he extracted from them all the suggestions Merlin had carefully planted in them as if they had just occurred to him, and when Merlin wished him goodnight he always looked happier.

***

The meetings with the druids went well. He and Gwaine were always welcomed with open arms and invited to sit around their fires. Merlin explained that Arthur wanted to try to make amends for all the wrong that had been done to their people for so long. In addition to giving them immunity and protection, he planned to give the Druid people a large territory within the boundaries of Camelot so that they could settle permanently and cease to be nomads if they wished to do so. Merlin showed them maps: ‘You would have access to the forest, this esplanade is perfect for building or pitching tents, here is the river and this part even borders the lake of Avalon, where you could perform all kinds of rituals…’

The druids listened, nodded, smiled politely. Sometimes they asked questions. Sometimes they refused the offer, claiming they were too used to their way of life. But the youngest druids welcomed the offer cautiously, with hopeful looks on their faces. They thanked him profusely, but Merlin only bowed his head and reminded them that he was only the emissary. It was Arthur, only Arthur, who made all those tired faces glow with happiness.

***

The first time he stopped to look at his reflection in a stream, he didn't recognise himself. They alternated nights out in the open with nights in inns where spending a few extra minutes in a real bed was always more appealing than shaving, so Merlin had decided to follow Gwaine's example and not worry about the length of his hair or his beard. Seeing his new look now, he couldn't help but smile. He imagined Arthur, looking at him irritably and asking, ‘Merlin, what the hell is that on your face?’ and adding haughtily afterwards, ‘As Camelot’s emissary, as my emissary, you must maintain a respectable appearance, Merlin, really, I leave you alone with Gwaine for a month and you can think of nothing but copying his utter lack of decorum? Shave that beard, for all the gods.’

Merlin decided not to shave again for the rest of the trip. He would only use a little magic to slow the growth of his beard. He told himself he did it for comfort —though it itched, and sometimes crumbs got caught in his beard when he ate— but the truth was that every time he ran a hand over his face and was surprised to feel all that hair, he thought of the annoyed look Arthur's face would get if he saw him and smiled. His king had never been fond of changes.

Was Merlin still doing things to annoy Arthur even when he was far away? Yes. Of course he was. It was an intrinsic part of who he was. 

***

Sometimes he wished Arthur could see him through the crystal too, and not just to listen to his complaints about his beard.

Part of him feared that Arthur would get used to his absence. Or that he would forget what he looked like. Merlin had never considered himself graceful. He had eyes that were too big and cheekbones that were too pronounced, sticking-out ears and lips that would fit better on a more feminine face. Gwen had once told him that his was a strange beauty. She had tried to explain it to him, blushing and stuttering in that endearing way of hers. ‘At first, when I met you, I didn't think you were particularly handsome. I thought you looked funny, you know? But then, as I got used to looking at you... I realised that you have very nice features. Your beauty is like... like that of a sunset. Or like the beauty of the moon. It’s special. I don’t know how to explain it, but you are really pretty, Merlin.’

Merlin had never come to believe her, but he had always had the impression that despite his funny appearance Arthur liked to look at him. What if he came back now and Arthur looked at him strangely? What if he never got used to his gangly figure or his ears again? What if he stopped looking at him? 

***

Merlin was lucky to have Gwaine as a travelling companion. With Gwaine there was no room for boredom, no room for thinking too much. Sometimes they had to run out of a tavern or even escape an entire village on the run, but they always had a great time. Gwaine had fun and dragged him along in his diversions. He was the epitome of freedom. Gwaine spoke his mind and did what he wanted, without explanations or excuses. Nothing frightened him, nothing, not even expressing what he felt. He was honesty in its purest form, transparent, unfiltered. He was the opposite of Arthur, or Merlin.

"You look awfully handsome with that beard, Merls. If Arthur sees you he'll be unable to function. I can hardly function myself, and that's without being deeply in love with you."

"Don't you think that girl is the prettiest girl you have ever seen? Oh, gods, she definitely is. Hold the jug for me; I'm going to tell her."

"I miss Percival. We spend the night together from time to time and we have so much fun. And he's a good listener. He's not all muscle, you know? I like him. My life has been better ever since I met him."

"Merlin, I love you so much. You are my best friend. And I would die for you."

How easy it would be to be Gwaine. How liberating it would be to wear your heart on your sleeve for all to see. How wonderful, to be able to say ‘I love you’ without fear of rejection. 

But no, it could never be easy for Merlin.

***

Sometimes he was glad Arthur couldn't see him. What would Arthur think if he saw his dreamy expression, his wistful smile, his eyes brimming with that feeling that sometimes seemed so intense he didn't think the word love could do it justice?

***

One morning, as Merlin gathered his things, he could not find the crystal. They had spent the night in one of the druid camps they had found in the depths of the Darkling Woods, in a small tent that Merlin had turned upside down in an instant. He unpacked all his bags, rummaged through all his clothes, went through Gwaine's belongings frantically, but there was no trace of his crystal. Then he remembered that it was magic. He had been looking for it like a madman for half an hour and it hadn't occurred to him to resort to his magic. Arthur would have laughed at him, after calling him an idiot about ten times.

The crystal was at the other end of the camp, among the toys of a little girl. The crystal had called to her at night, the girl said, and when she looked into it she saw herself as an adult. Later she had discovered that if she looked at her friends through it she could see what they would look like when they grew up, and she had had so much fun with it that she had forgotten to return it. 

After spending the morning thinking that he would not see Arthur again until he got back to Camelot, Merlin was so relieved that, as soon as he had the crystal in his hands, he poured his conscience into it and sought out his king.

Arthur was in the middle of a meeting at the Round Table. Sitting gracefully in his chair, dressed in chainmail and his red cloak, his golden hair bathed in the morning light streaming through the windows. And he had such a miserable expression that Merlin couldn't help but make a stupid comment:

"Sir Leon's reports are even duller when heard through a magic crystal."

Arthur jumped as if he had been poked in the backside and looked around with a startled look on his face. Merlin laughed.

"No, dollop-head, I'm still not there."

Arthur tried to regain his composure, but he kept looking around discreetly, as if he expected Merlin to appear and a part of Merlin wanted to scream, gods, how he wished he could show up there just for Arthur. Arthur's lips were pressed together, as if he was struggling to remain silent.

"I like talking to you when you can't talk back. I think I'm going to do it more often , " Merlin said, for he had almost forgotten how much he missed seeing Arthur as king and realised that seeing him for a little while at night was not enough, that he wanted to see him more often. He wanted to see him in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. He wanted to see him whenever he could. 

But he needed Arthur's approval.

He stared at the crystal, wanting to see a nod of acquiescence but expecting a frown and a grimace of displeasure.

Arthur's face broke into a dazzling smile.

***

That was how Merlin succumbed to the temptation to look at Arthur from time to time and make a comment to let his king know he was watching. Whenever they stopped to water the horses, whenever they finished setting up camp, whenever they lay down under a tree for a nap after a meal; he and Gwaine had no timetable, so any quiet moment was good to pick up the crystal and take a look. 

"Aren't you worried about catching him in a compromising situation?" Gwaine would ask every so often, and Merlin would shrug. He knew Arthur's routines by heart. He had seen him naked, body and soul. There was nothing he could see that he hadn't already seen.

"He doesn't care," he replied.

And, just to make sure it was true, he would tirelessly tease Arthur and try to make him laugh in awkward situations only to see Arthur's lips curl suspiciously upwards every time.  

At night Arthur complained endlessly, but Merlin could clearly see the amusement that wrapped every insult.

And if he was ever assaulted by doubts or regrets, he only needed to see the spark that lit Arthur's eyes every time the king heard his voice to know that his intrusion was welcome.

***

More than two months had passed. The leaves on the trees were changing colour, and Merlin would swear Arthur's hair colour was changing too. Three months wasn't that long. People don't grow old in three months. And yet… Merlin had sworn to himself that he would always be by Arthur's side, that he would discover with him every grey hair, every wrinkle that graced his skin, and he felt he was breaking that vow.

He had an idea.

"Gwaine, would you like the horses to go faster?"

His friend looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, by magic," Merlin said, wiggling his fingers.

"That was an option from the beginning? What are you waiting for?"

Their horses started galloping so fast that they began to cover the distances in half the planned days.

***

They spent two pleasant days in Nemeth in the company of Mithian, who was more than aware of Camelot's new policy on magic and supported it fervently. She had even appointed her own court sorcerer, a boy who regarded her with more than a little admiration.

"Is it a requirement to be a court sorcerer to have a crush on the monarch?" asked Gwaine with an amused grin, and Merlin elbowed him in the ribs.

Then there was Caerleon and its Queen Annis and, frankly, Merlin didn't understand why Arthur had been so concerned about the queen's opinion. As soon as Merlin and Gwaine entered the throne room Annis looked Merlin up and down and grinned.

"From fool to court sorcerer. Who would believe? I hope this time you'll give us a real magic show at the banquet tonight."

Merlin felt a mixture of terror and admiration for Annis, so he accepted with a smile and a bow. Annis sat him beside her at the banquet and focused her full attention on him, looking at him with clear curiosity and a spark of amusement in her light eyes. There was a wonderful mixture of elegance and mischief about her, something that reminded Merlin of Arthur and made him feel at ease. He performed some magic for her, filling the room with brightly coloured butterflies and dragons made of embers, and Annis laughed and applauded. The wine was flowing, Gwaine had his head buried in the lap of one of the queen's daughters, and at some point in the evening Annis told Merlin that Caerleon fully supported Camelot's new policies and that if he ever got tired of Camelot, Caerleon would welcome him with open arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I'll never leave Arthur," said Merlin, slurring his words somewhat.

The queen smiled.

"I guessed as much."

Annis took a sip of wine.

"You know, Merlin... If we ever wanted to unite the five kingdoms once and for all, we would need a common ruler. A king of kings."

"Mmm."

"When the time comes, your Arthur will be that king. And he will have my support."

And then there was more wine and more magic and more applause and the whole room was spinning.

Merlin saw red cloaks and golden dragons, the colours of Camelot decorating every corner of Albion. He saw a young king who was admired and adored by everyone, a king who sat on a golden throne and had sapphire eyes. The king was looking at him, and his lips curved into a tender smile as he spoke his name lovingly.

Merlin...

Merlin awoke with a start and looked around. He was in chambers as luxurious as Arthur's in Camelot. The sky was lightening and Gwaine was dozing at the foot of his bed. Merlin did not even remember arriving there the night before.

The night before. There had been wine and laughter and magic and the party had gone on for hours and hours and Merlin hadn't wanted to leave early so as not to offend Annis and...

"Oh, no."

Arthur. He had forgotten to talk to Arthur. 

He leapt out of bed and stumbled over the blankets, but quickly got up and lunged for the bag in which he kept the crystal.

"Arthur!" he called out loudly. The crystal responded to his wishes quickly.

Arthur was in his chambers pacing in circles, his hair dishevelled and dark circles under his eyes, but he was fine. Merlin let out a relieved sigh.

Arthur stopped abruptly.

"Merlin?" he called, his voice cracking, almost fearful.

"Yes, that's my name."

Arthur dropped onto the bed and covered his face with his hands.

"Merlin! Where the hell have you been? I waited up for hours last night, but you didn't show up. Gods, Merlin, I thought something bad had happened to you, I..."

"Were you worried about me?" Merlin completed, mockingly.

"Yes! You idiot! Don't ever scare me like that again!"

"Arthur..." 

"And I don't even know where you are, because instead of using that crystal for useful things, like letting me know where you are or what your plans are for the next day, you use it to drive me crazy! To get inside my head and talk to me when I least expect it and remind me how much I miss you and..."

"Arthur!"

"What!"

I love you!

No. No, he couldn't tell him, not like that. 

"I'm fine. We are in Caerleon."

"In... In Caerleon? Already?"

"Yes. We leave for Camelot today."

"Today?" 

Arthur's voice sounded shaky. 

"Today, Arthur."

Arthur let out a weak laugh, and then a more genuine one, and then a thunderous one.

"Today!"

Merlin lifted the crystal to his lips and kissed it gently.

His Arthur. His King.  

When he was finally in front of him, he would be honest, like Gwaine. 

He would try to put words to everything Arthur made him feel.

Chapter Text

Arthur could not stand still. He kept bouncing his legs during the council meeting. He paced in circles in his chambers. He walked from end to end of his castle aimlessly, looking out of every window anxiously. 

Gwen looked at him sympathetically, as if she knew exactly what was going on in his head, and Arthur was almost tempted to ask her to explain. What is it, Gwen? What is it? What's wrong with me?

Deep down he knew he didn't need Gwen to understand. He knew very well why he was like this. 

Merlin and Gwaine were returning. They could be there at any moment. He would have Merlin by his side for the first time in so, so long.

He didn't know how he would react. Would he know how to convey how much he had missed him, how glad he was to have him back, or would he just stand on the stairs, frozen, arms glued to his body, a stiff smile on his face? Would they have to get used to each other's constant presence again, or would it be as if Merlin had never left?

Arthur was a nervous wreck.

He knew he might not be able to express the emotion he felt, but Merlin had to know how glad he was to have him back. Arthur was the King, and Merlin was none other than the Court Sorcerer. They could receive him with honours. 

He called for Leon and ordered him to see that everything was in readiness to prepare an official welcome for Merlin.

"I want the same reception that we would give to a royal from another kingdom," he requested.

So when the first trumpet of the first sentinel sounded, the whole castle was in motion. Arthur almost tore the wardrobe door off in his haste, and tying his cloak was an arduous task with the way his fingers trembled. But he put it on. Ceremonial cloak, chainmail, crown. 

‘I'm dressing up for Merlin,’ he thought, and his face smiled foolishly at him from the mirror.

Before long he was at the top of the steps to the main entrance of the castle, struggling to keep his feet still and his back straight, as his father had taught him. All the inhabitants of the citadel had gathered in the streets and in the courtyard to welcome their beloved Merlin, and the knights formed a red-cloaked aisle for the newcomers. At last, through the archway came Gwaine's horse, and then Gwaine himself, looking tired but smiling, waving and shaking his mane with a mixture of cheek and elegance. And behind him —Arthur's heart skipped a beat— came Llamrei, ridden by... a man. Arthur frowned. From the distance he could only make out an indigo coat of good quality, curls of rich black hair falling over the rider's forehead, and a fair-skinned face framed by a bushy beard of the same charcoal colour.

Arthur watched blankly until the two riders approached and he could clearly see the man's eyes, which were deep blue and reduced to bright crescent moons. A much-loved smile was visible through the beard, which did not quite cover the two dimples in his cheeks.

Merlin.

Arthur came to his senses and descended the steps without tearing his eyes from that apparition, almost spellbound. 

"King Arthur! Oh, Sire, I am almost glad to see you."

Arthur paused and teared his eyes away from Merlin to look at Gwaine. Arthur smiled and patted his horse's neck.

"Likewise, Sir Gwaine. Welcome home."

His knight winked at him and leapt down from his horse. Arthur slowly approached Llamrei and gazed in wonder at Merlin, who gave him the brightest, broadest smile he had ever seen on his face.

"Merlin."

"Arthur."

Merlin made to climb down from Llamrei and Arthur reached up to take him by the waist and gently help him down. Merlin's smile softened as his feet came to rest on the cobblestones of the courtyard, and now that he was level with him and so close Arthur could not take his eyes off him. Merlin looked different, with his hair so wavy falling over his forehead and that beard so implausible and so attractive, and yet he was the same as ever: his eyes were just as Arthur remembered them and his smile made him feel the same way, and his ears, thankfully, were not completely hidden under all that hair. 

Arthur was suddenly aware that his hands were still resting on Merlin's hips, and that he had received him like a princess in front of all Camelot, and he pulled away from Merlin swiftly, reddening furiously. 

"Merlin of Ealdor, our Court Sorcerer!" he announced solemnly, and the crowd clapped and cheered, and Merlin blushed in turn. Arthur invited him to join him with a wave of his hand, and Merlin walked up the stairs beside him, stopping to politely greet all the knights, Gaius and Gwen, and Arthur was surprised that he managed to control himself and not jump on each and every one of them as he would have done when he was only a servant. As they reached the top step they turned and waved to the crowd again, and then entered the castle. 

They took a step, two steps, and then, when no one could see them, Merlin let out a giggle of pure happiness and threw himself on Arthur.

"Arthur!" he said, and wrapped his arms around his neck.

And Arthur didn’t stop to think that this was something they had never done before, he didn’t stop to consider whether it was right or wrong, whether he should feel ashamed or overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Merlin, pulled him close, buried his face in his neck, and breathed him in.

They stayed in each other's arms long enough for the castle to stop being just a castle and become a home again.

Merlin had feared he would pass out the moment he set foot on Camelot. The streets were crowded, and people were chanting his name, as if he were a hero coming home from war. He couldn’t quite believe that Arthur had arranged all of that just for him, and he didn’t know if he should feel irritated or profoundly moved, so he had settled for overwhelmed. The cheers, the colours, the joy… it was all intoxicating, and his nerves had kept escalating more and more until they became almost unbearable.

But then he had seen Arthur, the very source of all his inner turmoil, and the world had abruptly come to a stop. The crowds vanished, the noise silenced, and there was only Arthur, waiting for him on the top of the stairs; Arthur, coming to greet him; Arthur, looking at him with that bemused smile; Arthur, helping him down; Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. 

Merlin hastily greeted all his friends, anxious to be alone with his king, to have him all to himself. And then, unable to contain himself for much longer, he jumped on Arthur and held him close, relishing in the feeling of having his warm and firm body pressed against his at last. 

After that, their first evening back together had passed quickly and Merlin only had time to sketch out for Arthur everything he had learned from his journey before he had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion on Arthur's desk. In the morning he had awoken in his own bed, in his own chambers, and had a vague memory of Arthur carrying him in his arms as if he were a bride and tucking him in with great care.

He spent the day with Arthur, relaying in detail all the conversations he had had with all the druid groups, but he wasn't sure Arthur was paying much attention.

Arthur kept staring at him. He looked at him all the time, intently, as if he couldn't help it. And Merlin could not decipher the expression on his face, for it was new. There was no irritation in it, no annoyance, no amusement. Not even the fondness he was used to. It was something else, something different, something… more. 

"Is there something on my face?" Merlin asked at last, raising an eyebrow.

The corners of Arthur's lips curved upwards.

"Actually, there is," he said, running a hand along his own jaw.

Oh. The beard. Finally.

"Oh?" Merlin stroked his face as if he didn't know what Arthur meant. "Ah, yes, I've grown a bit of a beard these past few months. I'm so used to it by now that I didn't even remember I had it."

"I really didn't think you could grow a beard."

"Arthur, I'm almost thirty years old.”

"And you have the face of a girl."

Merlin snorted.

"Well, if it bothers you so much I'll shave it when I have some time," Merlin said with a shrug, and he had to suppress a smile as he imagined the faces Arthur would make every morning when he saw that Merlin still hadn’t shaved. Oh, how much fun it would be to pretend he had just forgotten to do it again and again.

"It doesn't bother me. You don't have to shave if you don't want to."

"No, of course it doesn't bother you. And that's why you've not been looking funny at me all day."

Arthur tilted his head.

"You look different, that's all."

"Different."

"Yes. You look older. More... respectable."

"Respectable?"

"I wonder if I should grow a beard too. I'm worried I look like a kid next to you."

"First, you always look like a child next to me, but that's because of the way you are, not the way you look. Second, I don't think it's a good idea to add even more weight to that head."

"Mpff, Merlin!"

Merlin laughed heartily, and it took him a few moments to realise that Arthur was not laughing in return. He was just looking at him with eyes full of this new emotion, this new level of affection that was so overwhelming.

"Sire?"

Arthur reached up and gently brushed his knuckles across Merlin’s cheek, taking his breath away.

"You look good with a beard, Merlin, and you look good without it. I like you anyway, no matter what you look like."

Arthur's cheeks were flushed when he finally withdrew his hand.

"Arthur?" Merlin stammered, stunned.

"Yes?"

I love you.

"I've missed you."

"And I you."

Arthur couldn't take his eyes off Merlin. It was as if he had spent three months in the shade and now he couldn't stop marvelling at the sunlight. Merlin realised he was looking at him too much, but Arthur no longer cared. 

He would look at him, and look at him, and look at him, just because he could. Because Merlin was there, and Arthur could see his soft blue eyes and those long elegant fingers and that curly black hair and that dazzling smile and those lovely ears and that new beard that looked so good on him and, oh, Arthur wanted to caress it.

And he did so. And he felt embarrassed afterwards, but Merlin told him then that he had missed him, and Arthur decided that he could not bear to be parted from Merlin ever again.

It was ridiculous. Merlin had spent all day with Arthur and yet there he was, lying on his very comfortable bed and missing his nightly conversations with Arthur. They had been his most cherished routine for three months and now he couldn't help but miss them. He felt a nervous tingling in his fingers. He felt the crystal, calling to him from the drawer of his bedside table. 

Before he knew it he had it in his hands and there was Arthur, lying awake on his bed and looking longingly at the canopy. 

"I just remembered that I didn't call you clotpole even once today."

Arthur smiled automatically. His eyes lit up, as if he had been waiting for Merlin to speak to him, as if he had been missing him too.

"And you couldn't fall asleep without remedying it, I suppose."

"No, I couldn’t. Clotpole."

As happy as he was to have Merlin by his side again, Arthur had dreaded the first few nights after his return. He knew he’d dearly miss his nightly conversations with him. He didn't know if he could ever get used to falling asleep again without listening to Merlin's voice growing softer and softer, lulling him to sleep.

But to his surprise, Merlin's voice had been there the second night —the first he’d been so exhausted he had fallen asleep on Arthur’s desk—, and then the third, and then the fourth. 

On the fifth night, Arthur got up and walked barefoot down the short stretch of corridor that separated his chambers from Merlin's.

"What...?"

Before Merlin could finish his question, Arthur had entered his room.

"The truth is," he started to say, trying to mask his nerves by leaning casually against the doorframe, "I just think it's silly to keep doing this."

The surprise on Merlin's face faded, giving way to a crestfallen expression.

"I mean. We're both here, there's only a wall between us. We don't need any crystal. And besides, it doesn't seem fair. I want to see you too. Why don't you come with me and we'll do the same thing in person, face to face?"

"I..." Merlin's eyes were wide and he stammered. "Okay?"

Arthur reached out his arm without thinking and Merlin took his hand. They walked together to Arthur's room, and Arthur did not stop or let go of his hand until they reached his bed. He lay down on his favourite side and tapped on the mattress. Merlin lay down beside him and gave him an uncertain and, perhaps, hopeful look.

"So, is there anything you forgot to tell me today?" Arthur began, smiling.

"I..." 

Arthur sank his head into the pillows, making himself comfortable.

"So? What is it this time? Have you forgotten to call me a prat? A dollop-head? Or have you come up with some ridiculous story to sneak into it some of your surprisingly wise pieces of advice?"

Merlin's eyes widened even more and Arthur smiled to himself. He rolled over and lay on his side so that he could stare at Merlin, only because he could now. He could hear him and see him at the same time, and if he reached out he could even touch him.

"Why did you take out the crystal today, Merlin? What were you planning to tell me?"

Merlin's gaze came back into focus at last. His eyes lit up with a special glow.

"I... I wanted to tell you something."

"Something important?"

"Very important."

"Mmm. It’s a new insult, isn't it?"

"Well..."

"No, wait. You're going to tell me that you forgot to shave because for some reason you think it's so funny to pretend you're not doing it on purpose."

"I… What? Ugh, you're infuriating."

"Oh, was that it? Infuriating. Mm. Could be worse. I don't even think it counts as treason."

"Arthur."

"Although, if you want, I could get you some time in the stocks."

"Arthur."

"We’ve had a surplus of vegetables since you left."

"Arthur."

"Did you know that…?"

"I love you."

Arthur stopped in his tracks and looked at Merlin with a start.

"I love you," Merlin said firmly, his unwavering gaze fixed on him. "That's what I wanted to tell you. I love you."

It took Arthur a few seconds to remember how to make his lungs work.

"Oh."

"And I've missed you every day. Every minute. Every second. And I never want to be apart from you again."

"Ah."

“I love you, Arthur.”

“You- I- I- Hmm.”

Merlin frowned and looked at him with concern.

"Arthur?"

There was not a single coherent thought in his mind.

"Don’t worry, you don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know."

"Look at me," Arthur demanded hoarsely, pulling Merlin to him. 

He couldn't find the words to answer that confession, but Merlin had always been able to read him. So he brought Merlin's face close to his and looked into his eyes, trying to convey all that he felt.

And Merlin's eyes filled with tears of emotion. His lips curved into a trembling smile, and his fingers found Arthur's face and gently caressed his cheeks.

And Arthur knew he understood.

"Merlin," Arthur muttered, reverent.

"Arthur," Merlin replied with equal devotion.

Arthur cradled Merlin's face tenderly, letting his thumbs run through his beard and his fingers tangle in his hair. 

They closed the distance that separated them at once, and their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss. Then they found each other again, firmer, and once more in a deeper, more desperate kiss.

"I wanted to ask you something too," Arthur said panting when they finally broke for air.

"Mm?" Merlin muttered absently as he ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur inhaled deeply and tried to steel himself. Merlin loved him. He could do this.

"I’ve been thinking… How would you like to add one more title to the ones you already have?"

Merlin frowned.

"What, another one? Court Sorcerer and Royal Advisor aren’t enough already?"

"And don’t forget Royal Idiot," Arthur grinned. "And no, I don’t think they are enough."

Merlin let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. Surprise me."

Arthur's smile softened.

"What do you think about... Consort?"

A million different emotions flashed across Merlin's face and Arthur looked at him intently, trying to decipher each and every one of them. Surprise, bewilderment, disbelief, giddiness, joy, hope, happiness, love.

As if all that storm of emotions had exhausted him, Merlin collapsed on top of Arthur, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in his bare shoulder.

"Sounds like a dream to me," he mumbled against his skin. 

Arthur pinched his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Not a dream," Arthur replied with a smirk.

Merlin sighed.

"I don't know why I love you. I must have a mental affliction."

"We agree on that.”

"So. Consort?"

"Yeah."

"Mmm."

Merlin's breath was warm against his skin.

"Is that a yes?"

"As if you didn't already know the answer."

"Is it yes?”

"Pff."

"If we had that damned crystal in between you would clearly say yes to me."

"Because then you couldn't see my face, you prat. And don't talk bad about my crystal. I don't know how I would have survived these three months without it."

Arthur nodded and placed a kiss on the crown of Merlin's head.

"Me neither. I would have gone mad if it hadn't been for that thing."

Arthur knew that somehow it was thanks to the Crystal of Neahtid that they were now like this, cuddled together on his bed. He knew that somehow it was thanks to those almost three months of distance and longing. 

And yet...

"But I never want to use it again, Merlin. I don't want you to go away ever again."

Merlin raised his face and fixed his blue eyes on him.

"Never again, Arthur. I'll never go away again." Then a playful spark lit his eyes. "After all, it is frowned upon for a consort to travel about alone without his king."

It was as close to a yes as he was going to get that night, and Arthur would not have wanted it any other way. So he pulled Merlin back to him and kissed him again and again and again until he counted eighty-six kisses, one for each day they had been apart.