Chapter Text
Merlin strolled through the forest, adjusting the bag at his hip as he weaved through trees and over fallen pines. He muttered incoherently to himself, in search of the ingredients Gaius sent him off into the woods for. Insofar, he had no such luck.
He was straying further from the path he was familiar with, edging deeper into the untouched portion of Camelot land. He was quite close to preserve territory but, despite that, did not hear any echoes of wildlife. Noting the silence, Merlin stopped and debated whether or not to return to Gaius empty-handed. After all, he had many chores to do-- once he got back within yelling distance of Arthur's demands, that is.
Merlin tried to forget the blistering in his fingers he was still fostering from the last time Arthur had tasked him with cleaning. The entire great hall floor glistened like a mirror after Merlin had scrubbed on hands and knees with a rag, without so much as a simple thank you or praise. All he had received was a retort about not forgetting his other duties.
Merlin wiped the sweat from his brow, dirt grinding into the spot from his mucky hands that had been pushing at the foliage. Spotting what seemed to be a perfectly shady tree at a short distance, he consented to take a short break; perhaps even take another look at the sketch of what he was looking for. He was tempted to try to find them with magic but hesitated. He was careless enough, and besides that, didn't know a spell offhand that would help him find some obscure flower hiding within the forest.
Merlin sat under the canopy of the large oak tree with a sigh, taking off his bag to lay it beside him. Closing his eyes and breathing in, he finally felt a moment of peace and exhaled slowly with a smile. However, a pain surged in his right hand and he noticed a few of the blisters on it had popped and now stung with exposure. Merlin rolled his eyes and groaned with pain, cursing Arthur with every word under his breath.
Throwing his head back in frustration against the trunk of the tree, he heard a hollow thud and something fall behind him. Merlin frowned, turned his neck around, and noticed a gap in the tree's roots. He groped around foolishly in the space, curious if something was hidden there. As it occurred to him that he was vulnerable waving his arm and blistered hand like that in such a place, his fingers brushed against the corner of something.
"Interesting," Merlin hummed to himself, getting a grip on the box and taking it out. It looked old, at least a few decades, but the latch gave with the slightest force. The box, no bigger than the size of a hare, held some decayed object in it.
Merlin grasped at the lump and brought it closer for a better look, he nearly vomited upon realizing the lump was a pound of flesh-- a heart, to be exact. He threw it back within the cloth lining of the box, finally noticing the inscription in fading brown on the lid.
He felt as though a burn was coursing through his hand as it was marked with something resembling a set of weighing scales-- a dark shade of mulberry on his white skin.
At this moment, Merlin felt incredibly stupid. Not to mention very unlucky, for the inscription read: Suffer, as I have suffered. Whomsoever takes ownership of this heart will feel my sadness. Anteros, avenge me.
"Why can't I ever just leave well enough alone?" Merlin groaned, stuffing the box in his bag.
The ingredients would have to wait, Merlin reasoned. He hoped Gaius could help him out of whatever mess he'd gotten himself into this time. Not to mention, help wrap his hands with bandages and salve.
"It's a cursed object," Gaius instructed, viewing it from arm's length and careful not to touch it-- or Merlin, for that matter. "Likely, someone with magic did this for revenge."
"Against whom, exactly?" Merlin snapped, not looking up from cleaning one of Arthur's boots with polish. "Not me, surely. It's much too old. The box alone is an antique." He threw the boot down on the floor with a sour expression, then picked up the mate to polish it too.
"The inscription is the only clue we have," Gaius muttered, ignoring Merlin's complaining. "Perhaps it may be best, Merlin, if you stop touching things which do not belong to you. You seem to get yourself into a lot of trouble that way."
"I have kicked myself enough on the way back to the castle, Gaius, thank you. May we return to the matter at hand?" Merlin looked exhausted, taking a moment to put all of his energy into a sigh before slamming down the boot in his hands to the floor with finality. He snagged a cloth from Gaius's medical stash and wrapped his hand with it to hide the mark. He rubbed the salve of herbs Gaius made him on the blistered flesh of his hands.
Gaius spared a look of concern at the blisters before returning to the more important matter of Merlin's newly-acquired curse.
"I really know nothing more than you, Merlin," Gaius admitted, sighing. "I have not seen anything like it before, nor do I know who this Anteros person is. I just know it is cursed, since you clearly broke the seal on it and the message is apparent enough--"
"Mer-lin!" called the familiar voice of the crowned prince, Arthur Pendragon, from a distant hall.
"I am being summoned," Merlin groaned, straightening his back and stretching his arms above his head. He spared one more glance at the hand bearing the cursed mark and plastered on a smile, "I'll figure something out, Gaius. Thanks, anyway."
Merlin stowed the cursed box beneath his bed, then jogged out the door and nearly ran into Arthur waiting outside it.
"Merlin, I was waiting. Come on, I'm going on a hunt. I need you to prepare my things." Arthur instructed, leading the way with the expectation of being followed. He did not spare a glance, merely kept speaking as Merlin's steps shuffled behind him. "What took you so long?"
"I was out, picking herbs for Gaius," Merlin answered. He tried to turn his mind the best he could from the box but was failing miserably.
"Not lazing away at the tavern, then? What happened to your hands?" Arthur asked.
"Thorns," Merlin lied. He didn't want to draw attention by even telling the partial truth that he bandaged blisters thanks to Arthur's orders.
Arthur hummed in skepticism at the lie but didn't press the subject.
Merlin was quiet through most of the preparation and ride through the valley, the conversation of a few of the knights overmodulating the few times Merlin even gave hazard to speak. Due to this, the young warlock's thoughts pegged themselves permanently to the box which lay hidden in his room.
Arthur watched his servant with disdain as Merlin, yet again, was almost clipped by a branch since he did not duck beneath it. This time, Arthur pulled a branch back as he passed beneath so it sprung back square into Merlin's forehead. Merlin hissed in pain and rubbed his brow as they continued.
"Pay attention, Merlin!" Arthur snapped. "Just because this is a routine hunt does not mean you can daydream!"
"Yes, sire," Merlin sighed, not even wanting to argue.
This was the final straw for Arthur, who slowed his horse's pace to match Merlin's mare, "No excuses for me, Merlin? No witticisms you wish to bestow upon me? No whining about your poor, cut hands?"
Merlin felt a nagging sense that the name, Anteros, was something foreign. Meaning, that he would likely find it within the royal libraries if there was anywhere in the kingdom to search that would be the best place. However, it would be impossible to search with no direction of where to begin, he supposed he could hazard asking Arthur. He only hoped Anteros would not be a powerful sorcerer, his regret for opening the wooden box increasing by the moment.
"Arthur?" Merlin asked, and upon seeing Arthur's bored expression at his dismissal of the remark, took that as a means to speak. "Have you ever heard of the name Anteros?"
Arthur seemed struck, both by the odd question and the fact that Merlin had been so deeply thinking about it. After a few moments of silence, looking forward to the other knights to make sure they were within sight, shook his head.
"I don't believe I have heard the name, why?" Arthur rolled his neck, the weight of the quiver on his back somewhat nagging at him. "Where did you hear the name? Perhaps that could give a clue."
Suddenly, Merlin found it better to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to reveal what he found. The last thing he wanted was to reveal he was affiliated with magic, no matter how incidental. No need to arouse suspicions. He made an offhand comment about not knowing precisely where he heard it and made a half-hearted excuse to catch up with the rest of the knights.
Arthur did not think too much of it, and followed suit, catching up with the rest of the hunting party. Inwardly, Arthur wondered if it may have been better to stay back at the castle.
Overall, Merlin was not sure if he found Arthur's lack of knowledge a good sign-- that it was perhaps nothing more than a petty curse that would fade sooner rather than later-- or a sign that he was possibly going to die at the hand of some unknown curse by a great evil completely invisible or ancient, unknown even to Camelot's magic-hating lot.
Merlin didn't even entertain the idea of asking a druid somewhere-- if they knew, Gaius would most likely know too-- so with a quiet sigh, he resigned to a trip to the library after the party returned to the castle.
Arthur saw Merlin's distant expression (and obnoxiously loud sigh) and rolled his eyes. Perhaps someone had caught his servant's eye, he wondered, or some oaf was stupid enough to find to be Merlin a good match. Arthur did not suppress a chuckle as he ushered everyone onward into the forest.
It was a few hours later that Merlin unloaded the saddlebags from their horses, none of the horses encumbered by game-- the entire purpose of their trek.
"Sometimes it is just about the outing, Merlin, not the spoils," Arthur spoke sagely, met with Merlin's sharp laugh.
"I would say that was spoken like a true marksman, that is of course assuming you were able to hit a single target-- which you were not."
"I spared the doe because it was skinny!" Arthur defended, "Not much of a meal."
"The only thing that spared that deer was the embarrassing shot that missed it by leagues. " Merlin could not help smiling mirthfully to himself, glad to have Arthur at the butt of another joke. "No need to lie, sire, it does not suit you."
"You are dismissed," Arthur snapped, taking the bags from his hands.
Merlin gave a mocking low bow, then raced from the stables. Bounding his way across the courtyard towards the tomes hall, he planned to make his way to the records keeper before Arthur could change his mind and his voice carry to meet him. His fingers ached but he pressed on.
Geoffrey, the balding, grey old man had his eyes lazily scanning some sort of ledger. Merlin cleared his throat to get the man's attention, he gestured to speak but did not look up.
"In which direction may I find a... Well, I'm not quite sure what I am looking for. Is there a record somewhere of persecuted magic users throughout Camelot's history?"
Geoffrey seemed skeptical at the request, perhaps he hadn't heard any interest in the subject for a long time. "Yes, of course, even some outside of Camelot's bounds. May I ask what you need it for?" While an innocent enough question, the man was not hiding the snooping tone in his voice, he looked up at Merlin under wild brows.
Merlin was surprised how quickly the lie rolled from his tongue, "Arthur has asked me to look into someone he suspects is using an alias. He asked me to make the task simpler for him."
"Indeed," the man nodded. "It is good work, but he has much more pressing matters to attend to. He was right to put you to it. Go about 30 paces to the right, three shelves over you should find the records. The table is nearby-- and do be sure to put them back, there are many and it is crucial my order system is maintained."
Merlin wanted to respond to the condescending tone in which Geoffrey spoke but stopped, following the instructions without a fuss.
Upon arriving at the particular shelf, he bit the first knuckle of his fist to avoid screaming in anger. There were hundreds of books. Some were so old that the ink had likely faded off the parchment decades ago, with each page needing to be read carefully over candlelight. He wondered if the dragon saw him now-- if it would laugh at his misery.
He chose the most recent looking tome, the length of a gauntlet and the width of an eel, and opened it to the first page. By the tenth page the eye strain he had a splitting migraine-- caused by each handwritten word the size of ants, and the margins so small the writings nearly bled from the page.
Closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the table, he began to lose consciousness from the pain. As he drifted into sleep, he could have sworn he saw a pale hand reaching out to him behind his closed eyelids. He woke fully with a start, a renewed fervor to find at least something.
Merlin scoured his mental picture of the box, trying his best to avoid thoughts of the contents which threatened to make him sick. There had to be something, he wondered, but after going through an entire book-- and losing precious sunlight-- he decided to call it a day and look at it in the morning with fresh eyes.
He did, however, decide to make a point to check Gaius's books for any spells relating to ownership, unveiling secrets, or memories attached to items. There had to be something, somewhere, about this Anteros person-- as well as the magic-user who embedded such dark energy in a box.
Merlin was in the middle of eating his dinner the next day when Arthur opened the door without knocking, "Gaius, may I borrow Merlin a moment?"
"I'm eating!" Merlin protested, a spoon of soup in his mouth.
"It won't take long," Arthur assured, looking unamused. "Hurry up, before I change my mind."
"I would quite like you to change your mind," Merlin jibed, eating another spoonful.
"I plan on helping you, get a move on." Arthur snapped, closing the door.
Merlin gave a knowing and confused look to Gaius before meeting Arthur outside the door. "Come with me to my chambers," Arthur ordered, walking ahead and not waiting a moment for Merlin to match stride.
Merlin caught up but scrunched his face, "What sort of help are we discussing?"
Arthur rolled his head on his shoulders, "I thought about what you said, and it reminded me of a book in my personal collection. It wouldn't be in the library with the rest. I was going to be kind enough to let you look through it."
"Thank you?" Merlin couldn't help the surprise (and distrust) that crept intensely into his voice.
"I got it during my tutoring years, the stories were some of my favorites." Arthur seemed tender when talking about the book, an expression Merlin did not see often-- especially not from Arthur, and even more so not about books. He half-wondered at times if the sod could even read. "So, in that regard, you are lucky I am showing you something so important to me."
Merlin made the uncharacteristically smart decision to not comment on this but probed further in a different direction. He preferred getting help over some unknown curse hanging over his head-- possibly going to strike him dead at any moment. "So what makes you think it's in this book?"
"As I am sure you know, the royal family and their wards are taught many things in preparation for being part of the court. One of them, of course, being lands outside our own-- to learn and enrich our own country from others' culture, successes, and mistakes." Arthur drolled.
Merlin tried not to look bored, especially in the case this lead actually went somewhere. As Arthur closed the door to the room behind them, he walked over to his closet and reached deep into the top shelf, feeling around until he pulled out an old book barely kept together by its bindings. He set the book gently on the table and gestured to it.
Arthur continued, "After thinking about it a while, while I don't know the name the root of it Ant-, the second part -eros rang a bell. I'll tell you more as we look, you'll see." Arthur seemed to be holding something back as he said this, but would never admit to Merlin he was concerned. However, it was not exactly for the reason he normally showed concern.
Regardless, though, Merlin was oblivious and sat down with the book, opening it to the title page.
"Wait, is this a storybook?" Merlin asked, flipping through the first few pages.
"No, it's mythology, from Greece."
"Greece? Where is that?" Merlin looked confused, "I've never seen it on any map."
"Well," Arthur chuckled haughtily. "It's far outside the reaches of this kingdom, I'm not surprised you haven't. It's by the sea but, more importantly, keep looking for this name of yours."
Merlin skimmed pages with his eyes as he brisked through, Arthur's eyes watching over his shoulder.
"So, Anteros, you were saying you recognized--?" Merlin didn't look up from the pages, trying to focus on finding the name he was looking for.
"Right, as I was saying," Arthur sat across from Merlin at the table, hands folded. "Eros was the big thing that stood out to me. That one I remembered, he's a god of love in Greek culture--"
"Found it!" Merlin burst out, skimming it with his eyes.
"Now," Arthur interrupted the reading, putting his hand on the book and blocking the pages, "Tell me the truth about where you heard this name. Clearly, you know something if it's so important that you tried checking the royal library."
"Were you following me?"
"Answer the question."
Merlin closed his eyes and put his face in his hands, after a few moments he looked into a visibly concerned Arthur looking back at him. It made him feel uncomfortable, so he averted his eyes, and decided to just tell him what happened. After all, there was no real way that he could see which could in any way connect him to magic. Not directly, anyhow.
"I, well, accidentally got cursed?" Merlin said with the gritted teeth of a child who broke a treasured vase. After the initial shock of the information, Merlin described how he came upon the box from nowhere, the inscription, and the withered heart inside. It was then he unwrapped his hand and showed Arthur the weighing scales that appeared there.
"That's... disconcerting," Arthur murmured. "You said you found the name, what does it say?"
"If his highness would move his hand, I could tell you," Merlin tilted his head mockingly.
"Just make it quick," Arthur snapped, crossing his arms.
" 'The brother of Eros, and son of Aphrodite and Ares, Anteros is the god of mutual love and punisher of love unrequited.' That's all it says in this particular book. I guess he's the less popular brother." Merlin suddenly felt a flash of recognition, "Wait, are there any other places that might mention this Anteros?"
"There are some poets, philosophers, we may have something in there, somewhere." Arthur thought to himself aloud with an obvious lack of faith, "I can help you search the library."
"I told Geoffrey I was looking for something in your stead, won't he be suspicious if you suddenly join me?" Merlin asked.
"Probably," Arthur pat him on the shoulder, "but who cares what he thinks? Let's get on with it."
"What about my dinner?" Merlin whined.
"I'll have the cook send something to us. Don't be daft, Merlin. We need to rid you of whatever curse this is as soon as possible." Arthur playfully hit the side of his boot against Merlin's calves so he stumbled forward. "Walk, Merlin."
"Yes, sire," Merlin rolled his eyes but smiled. Always felt nice when they were on the same side of a problem, rather than him cleaning up after Arthur's messes. Or vice versa, really.
The search, of course, was a much bigger challenge than expected. It was not as though there was a catalogue of which poems would be where, or their subject matter, or the origin in which they had been transcribed. Moreover, they could not ask Geoffrey for help as he was something of a quidnunc. So, therefore, they pored over books with the fervor of a weary historian and wished to find what they sought sooner rather than later. They had finished their supper and it was long past nightfall when they happened upon it.
Arthur was the one to stumble upon the thing which they sought. It was the smallest portion of a lengthy work by Plato, which stated thus:
"When he is with the lover, both cease from their pain, but when he is away then he longs as he is longed for, and has love's image, Anteros lodging in his breast, which he calls and believes to be not love but friendship only, and his desire is as the desire of the other, but weaker; he wants to see him, touch him, kiss him, embrace him, and probably not long afterwards his desire is accomplished."
Arthur showed Merlin this discovery as they quietly read it again and again in hopes to understand the translated quotation, which was indirect at best. Arthur crossed his arms and stated aloud, rather thickly, "I suppose you have been cursed by someone who has suffered at the hand of one-sided love. This is a strange bewitchment, especially to give to anyone who happened to find the box."
"Only I should be so lucky," Merlin grunted. "But the curse, 'Suffer, as I have suffered', what does that even mean?"
"It doesn't take a fool to figure it out, Merlin." Arthur chided, "It means the spell will make you fall in love with someone who can not or will not love you back. Perhaps, when the curse feels the pain is equal to that of whoever made the curse, it will cease."
"Wonderful," Merlin laughed sardonically, tapping his head against the wooden table, "I shall love again, for the first time since I was a boy, and it will be someone I cannot have... of all the rotten luck."
"It could be worse, Merlin," Arthur sighed dramatically, closing the heavy tome with a thunk of finality, "The curse could have been on me."
"Forbid the heavens," Merlin hissed, rolling his eyes. "There is no one King Arthur cannot have."
The unspoken wound of Guinevere seemed to be either out of mind or healed because Arthur did not comment on the statement, he merely smiled to himself, "That is very true. I am nothing if not a desirable man."
Merlin gagged loudly for comedic effect, "Sire, I suppose now you may tell me you don't have the personality of a lame mule."
"That, I do not, Merlin--" Arthur smiled, helping clear the table of dinnerware. "I am a knight, and a fine king, that alone is personality enough."
Merlin did not retort but secretly wondered to himself if it would be so bad to forfeit his destiny with Arthur of protecting the once-and-future king. Sometimes the prat was so unbearable he wished to pitch him off the nearest cliffside.
He told so much to Gaius as he readied for bed, the old man simply laughing to himself as he ignored the comment and went to sleep. Merlin lay awake, turning over the events in his head. What did he do to deserve such punishment? Why him? Who was he to fall in love with?
The answer took nearly a fortnight to start becoming apparent. It began with little things-- there were fewer demands placed on him on a daily basis; Arthur allowed for more breaks when he used Merlin as a stand-in for knight training; once, he even stopped Merlin in the hall to check his head for a rising temperature-- but the most glaring was Arthur asking him for advice, of all things. The matter itself was a trivial one, but one Arthur could have easily reckoned an answer himself, but yet chose the company and words of Merlin over his own.
Merlin did not have the courage (or stupidity) to assume such a thing outright, he would work his way to it through conversation, he supposed. He went to a patch of a field while picking herbs, acquiring a few meager flowers to present to Arthur, to see what the reaction may be. Were it the normal Arthur, he would scoff at the sudden appearance of weeds in his chambers.
He put the flowers on the table in a cup filled with water, not thinking much about their arrangement. Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin as Arthur patted him on the shoulder. He had not planned for Arthur to know where they had come from, nor the one who brought them.
"Are those for me?" Arthur asked curiously.
"Yes," Merlin answered honestly, "What do you think of them?"
"Did you find them in the lower village?" Arthur asked, dodging the question.
"I did, while I was picking herbs. It was no trouble, I merely thought they looked nice. There are no ladies in the castle to appreciate them, after all." Merlin sounded noncommital, and in fact, he was; however, his expression morphed a little when Arthur began to stare intently at the wildflowers. "Something wrong, sire?"
"I remember asking you once, why the girls received flowers and I did not," Arthur mused thoughtfully. "Better late than never, I suppose."
"Right," Merlin cleared his throat, "I am surprised you remembered such a thing."
"You are a dear friend," Arthur insisted with a conflicted expression, "Though I may not tell you often, I do intend to listen when you speak to me. I also attempt to remember what you tell me."
"Arthur, that's--"
"Sire, Merlin. I am a king." Arthur corrected sharply.
"Alright, then, sire I think that is very uncharacteristic of you. "
"Then perhaps you do not know me as well as you believe you do," Arthur stretched, taking his shirt off and going to his wardrobe to select a new one.
Merlin swallowed thickly, wondering if he presumed wrongly.
Arthur threw the shirt at Merlin's head, hitting him square in the face, "Do not forget to have my washing done by tonight!"
Merlin took the rest of the clothes littering the corner of the room and went to the basin house. Once there, he could curse Arthur's name in peace.
The washing was done early, with such limited tasks to complete throughout the day, and he took the washing to Arthur's room to find him laying on his bed, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.
"Be sure to blink, sire, or you may bore holes in the ceiling. We do not need to repair the roof again," Merlin chastised, putting the clothes away.
"I am thinking, Merlin," Arthur snapped.
"Oh, I am quite sure you are, it smells like something is burning," Merlin teased, hanging the last tunic in the wardrobe.
"After my meeting tonight, I wish to go on a ride," Arthur stated, eyes not pulling from the ceiling.
"I do not--"
"That was not an invitation for an accompaniment or an opinion, Merlin. I am going alone." Arthur's tone was flat, with no room for protest edgewise, but Merlin tried anyhow.
"But, sire--"
"I know I am king, I know it is dangerous, but I wish for time alone."
"More time to think?" Merlin asked, barely able to contain his tone of mocking.
"Have my things ready at nightfall," Arthur stood, straightened the made bed where he had wrinkled it, and pushed past Merlin to attend his meeting.
Merlin had decided no sooner than Arthur said it, that it would be foolish not to follow him. Arthur was a magnet for mayhem. Aside from that, his curiosity was too much to ever ignore.
Darkness fell upon Camelot like a feather floating downward, it came slowly and with anticipation for its resting.
Merlin stood at the stable to see him off and gave a berth of a quarter of an hour before setting off behind on his own horse. Arthur rode deep into the woods, for what seemed like an agonizingly long time. Merlin rode cautiously behind, he had plans to test his theory when Arthur slept, a vial in his pocket.
Arthur set up camp in a small clearing, not bothering to collect firewood on such a warm summer night. The night was bright, full moon beaming overhead, which made any auxiliary light source unnecessary. He simply tied up his horse, laid out his blanket, and stared up at the stars.
Merlin tied up his horse and edged in closer, silent as he crept to the treeline. As he stared, Arthur's breath had gone even, his eyes closed. Merlin tried to hold his breath as he crept the rest of the way in, kneeling upon his knees beside Arthur. He leaned over, about to reach into his pocket, when an arm shot out to catch his arm.
Arthur's eyes were open and Merlin yelped in surprise, "Arthur!"
"You are not very good at sneaking, Merlin. I knew you were following me ages ago." Arthur yawned, looking up at him. "So, what were you planning on doing just now?"
"I don't understand what you mean," Merlin chittered nervously, trying in vain to play dumb.
"You are kneeling beside me, leaning over me, surely this was not for no reason." Arthur smiled, enjoying torturing him. "I know you better than you think I do."
Merlin nearly repeated that he did not understand, before Arthur interrupted, "You worried about me, and came out here to assure yourself that I was alright."
Arthur took a look at Merlin's dumbfounded face and rolled his eyes, sitting up with his face inches from Merlin's, "I wanted time alone, do you not remember this?"
"Yes, sire," Merlin suddenly felt nauseous as he was almost nose to nose with him. He gulped audibly, "I apologize."
"I was counting on you disobeying me, as strange as that may sound to you." Arthur smiled slightly, somewhere between sweetness and apprehension, "As you may remember, that curse which is upon you-- I have a fear I may be the other recipient."
"I was afraid of that," Merlin found himself saying, without quite understanding the repercussions.
"However, I cannot be sure." Arthur's smile faded into something serious. "I think there is one way to be sure."
"Arthur!" Merlin jumped back, wrenching his arm from the other's grip. "It's the curse doing this, don't be daft! We are both men! You are my king, I am your servant!"
"You defy my orders constantly, Merlin. You can with this one too. However, I think it may be the only way to know for sure." Arthur was nonchalant, but something in his countenance had changed.
This made Merlin unsettled, this was not the Arthur he knew. If it was the curse, what else would it warp of Arthur's mind? How was this curse transferred to Arthur when it was supposed to be Merlin who was suffering? However, as he wondered and pondered the implications of prolonging the inevitable, Arthur had closed the distance.
Arthur sat politely in front of Merlin, not impeding upon his personal space, merely residing there, "The only way to break the curse is likely to let it run its course."
"What are you implying?" Merlin asked, already knowing the answer.
"Resistance is futile," he joked half-heartedly, not looking like himself. He pulled Merlin closer by his arms until they were close and released his grip to touch each cheek with his hands. "I believe I should kiss you now."
"Oh, dear L--" Merlin rolled his eyes, nearly cursing as Arthur kissed him on the mouth. It lasted a few seconds, but then they broke apart.
Arthur looked satisfied with himself, but shrugged and laid back down, "Yup, I'm cursed if I think I want to kiss you of all people, Merlin."
Merlin's face cycled through a garden variety of emotions before he settled on a combination of determined and uncomfortable, "While this is running its course, it may be best we keep our distance. I will find some way to cure you of this."
"What if I don't want to be?" Arthur asked coyly, "Curse or not, I like how I'm feeling right now."
"I will repeat this again, sire, we are both men. You are the king of this court. I am your servant! Do not be so stupid as to throw that away over a curse!"
There was quiet defiance in his whisper, "Gwen was a servant too."
"Arthur," Merlin felt pain as he said the name. "You love her. You likely always will. This curse will only bring you pain, do not forget this."
"Actually," Arthur turned on his side, away from Merlin, "I feel quite nice right now. I missed this feeling, even if it is for you, Merlin."
"Right," Merlin groaned but exhaled in defeat and rubbed his head. "Goodnight, sire, I will see you in the morning."
"I know, Merlin."
Soon, Arthur was asleep.
Merlin sat awake, rolling the potion in his palm, he had no use for it now. His desire to find if the curse had affected Arthur was already resolved, the kiss had proven so. He touched his lips absently for the brief warmth he felt there.
Suffer, as I have suffered. Whomsoever takes ownership of this heart will feel my sadness. Anteros, avenge me.
Merlin turned the inscription over and over in his head. He would be the victim of unrequited love. But, as things stood, Arthur seemed to have some feelings for him-- but he had none for Arthur. The concept bewildered and frustrated him. What did it all mean?