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Chapter Text

The soft clatter of silverware woke Arthur on an early spring morning, startling him out of his half-asleep daze.

His manservant went about his morning routine, humming softly, oblivious to Arthur’s attention. He worked more quietly than usual to allow him an extra few minutes of sleep, although given the cacophony of sound that generally followed in Merlin’s wake, it lacked significant improvement.

When Merlin threw open the curtains with a cheery “rise and shine!” Arthur blinked groggily, a sudden thought fleeting across his foggy, half-asleep mind.

Fully awake he would have deemed the notion too outlandish to consider, and asleep he would have dismissed it as dreaming folly, but in his pleasant in-between state he had the coherency to speak his mind but not the self-discipline to restrain it.

“You’re in love with me,” Arthur announced, drowsy but certain.

Merlin immediately tripped, losing his grip on the water pitcher he’d brought with breakfast. He managed to clumsily catch it again, but not before its contents splashed onto the floor and his clothes. Steadying himself, his irreverent grin vanished, and he shot Arthur an incredulous look, shock quickly transforming into wary suspicion.

“You’re still dreaming, Sire,” he said, on edge. “I’m Merlin. Gwen doesn’t wake you in the mornings, as much as you might wish otherwise.”

Arthur watched with a furrowed brow.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin, of course it's you," he uttered, rolling his eyes. No one else would dare wake him up in such an unnecessarily perky manner, and late, no less. "Why would I be expecting Guinevere?"

Silence reigned, long enough for Arthur to wonder if Merlin hadn't heard him—perhaps he’d been distracted by the food, the idiot—but then his servant answered slowly, as though speaking to someone particularly dimwitted.

"Because you’re in love with her?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arthur demanded. Merlin hesitated, but the prince carried on, paying him no heed. "We're talking about you."

"Me?" Merlin repeated blankly.

Arthur let out an exasperated breath. This shouldn’t be such a difficult concept to grasp.

"You're in love with me," he enunciated, slowly and clearly, so that even an idiot couldn't mistake the words.

The water pitcher, never set down after its initial tumble, trembled as Merlin’s fingers clenched tightly around its handle. A long, heavy pause lingered before his grip finally loosened, and a strange mask settled over his features. Only an irritable twitch of a finger gave away his nerves.

"Well, you’ve caught me," he said, an indefinable twang in his voice, when he finally spoke up once more. His shoulders tensed until he visibly forced the muscles to relax. “Of course I am. There really is no fooling you, is there, Sire?”

Merlin turned on his heel in dismissal, dropping the pitcher onto the table with a clatter and briskly wandering over to the wardrobe. He yanked it open with rather more force than necessary.

Arthur blinked away the last lingering haze of sleep from his eyes, awaiting the inevitable rant. A slighted Merlin was a snarky Merlin, after all.

When none came, he raised an eyebrow. Merlin had shut up unusually quickly. Normally he never missed an opportunity to ridicule his prince or prolong the bantering. Unless, of course, Merlin was too busy hiding his feelings to conjure up any semblance of wit.

Arthur smirked. If he hadn't been confident before, he certainly was now.

"You do," Arthur crowed.

Merlin only pressed his lips into a tight line, knuckles whitening as he held out the prince's coat. Unusually interested in choosing his attire for the day, Merlin avoided his eyes.

"Arthur, I know this might be hard for someone of your intellect to understand,” said Merlin, voice strained. “But I was joking."

Arthur paid him no heed. Whatever Merlin was babbling about, it almost certainly translated to some variation of I-fancy-the-prince (but-I’m-too-embarrassed-to-admit-it), and so idea solidified to fact in Arthur’s mind.

Merlin let out an exasperated huff, evidently reading the thoughts off the prince’s face.

"Do you honestly think I’d be enough of an idiot to fall in love with a prat like you?" he griped, tossing Arthur’s coat onto the bed with a peevish frown.

Arthur’s lips stretched into a triumphant smirk.

"You aren’t denying it," he declared, and Merlin threw up his hands with an aggrieved groan.

"I have better things to do than to indulge your insecurities,” he complained. “Now wake up, you have a full schedule ahead of you. Unsuspecting knights to batter, your father’s councilors to trample... if they don’t bore you to death first."

He reached over and viciously yanking the covers off his master. When Arthur’s skin broke out in goosebumps from the chill, he lunged to pull them back.

"Now I know why you always insist on waking me like this," the prince said with a leer, fingers scrabbling to gain purchase on the linen. “So forward, Merlin. Are you so eager to bare my skin?”

"Only because you fall back asleep otherwise," Merlin retorted. Whatever nervousness that had taken ahold of him earlier was thoroughly replaced by ire at this point. "Lazy arse. Get up."

Arthur pointedly yawned.

Merlin glared.

"You shouldn’t lie to your prince, Merlin," Arthur said, letting his voice drop into a smug, faux-sympathetic whisper. "I know how you feel."

"I definitely feel something," Merlin muttered under his breath, finally dropping Arthur onto the floor in an undignified heap, blankets and all. "Although you shouldn’t want to kill your prince, either."

Arthur ignored him, undaunted by his treasonous words.

Watching Merlin's pale skin flush red from his cheeks to his abnormally large ears, he couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. Arthur idly wondered to what degree anger caused the blush, and what could be credited to Merlin’s embarrassment at having his secret exposed.

The thought fascinated him.

"If that’s all, Sire?" his servant asked waspishly.

Except, Merlin looked more than ready to storm off at this point in time, already halfway to the door, and Arthur couldn't have that.

"A year as my manservant, and you're still incapable of doing your duties properly, Merlin?" Arthur retorted, holding out his arms. "Do I look dressed to you?"

Sullenly, Merlin trudged back.

Merlin could scowl at him all day, but Arthur wasn't about to let him run off before he got what he wanted. Not when Arthur was so close to extracting the truth - Merlin couldn't lie to save his life, after all.

Arthur had ample opportunity to extract a confession, and he felt a sudden, inexplicable giddiness wash over him at the anticipation of it. Merlin had no chance of avoiding him, and couldn’t ignore him when called. Judging from the sour look on Merlin's face, he knew it too.

Arthur felt certain it wouldn’t take long.

Chapter Text

"Why don't you just admit it?" Arthur urged as his steed cantered onwards, heading deeper and deeper through the woods of Camelot. Merlin glanced over sharply before shifting his gaze forward to keep an eye on the rocky path.

"Admit what?" he said coolly. "My distaste for hunting? I thought you already knew. Have you ever paid attention to me when I talk?"

"You know what I mean," Arthur replied, exasperated.

As if Merlin wasn't typically enough of an idiot, he'd now taken to being purposefully obtuse. Sometimes Arthur wondered why he put up with him.

Merlin's face darkened in annoyance, and his hold on the reins tightened as he pulled his horse ahead and free from their side-by-side trot.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

His steed picked up speed, accustomed to taking the lead. A couple steps later, he pulled even with Merlin once more.

"All right, fine. You don't have to answer," he conceded.

Merlin scrutinised him suspiciously. "Really," the servant said, skepticism in his voice.

He peeked over at his prince. A grin stretched across Arthur's lips.

"Of course," the prince nodded agreeably. "For now."

Arthur allowed the horses to walk a little further down the path in silence, then…

"As long as you confess what you like about me."

Merlin shot him a glare. "Arthur!"

"It's a different question," Arthur insisted, grin firmly in place. He maneuvered his steed until he forced Merlin to a halt. "So, come on," he demanded, leaning in as far as his saddle would allow, "how have I charmed you? What do you like about me?"

"I like how you're not an insufferable prat… Oh, wait," Merlin said in faux surprise, as though hit with a sudden realisation. He tugged at his neckerchief in agitation, then fumbled to regain a hold of the reins as his horse tossed its head.

Arthur chuckled with a good natured, patronising shake of his head. "Merlin, Merlin. It's just the two of us. You don't have to worry about anyone overhearing."

"Is that why you dragged me out here?" Merlin demanded, his voice rising an octave in chagrin. "To torment me? I suppose killing hapless small animals just isn't enough for you anymore!"

"I can do both," Arthur retorted with a shrug. "It's called being efficient. Something you never seem able to grasp."

"I never doubted your ability to multi-task," Merlin shot back peevishly. "You certainly have no problem being both stupid and an arse."

He pulled his horse away from Arthur's, continuing down the forest path, grumbling under his breath. Arthur pretended not to hear, and eventually, as he knew it would, the grumbling turned into mindless rambling about one thing or another. Merlin probably thought the matter was dropped. It was pleasant enough, except...

"Aren't you forgetting something, Merlin?" he called out, interrupting him mid-sentence.

His manservant paused. He blinked owlishly at him for a long minute before visibly brightening up.

"Oh, your crossbow?" he asked innocently, slipping the weapon off his back and presenting it to his prince.

"The question," he deadpanned. "You still haven't answered the question."

"Hm? What question?" He shoved the crossbow into Arthur's chest and then abruptly turned to lead his horse down the path and into a commonly-used clearing. Looking up at Arthur, he frowned when the prince didn't follow. "Well? Are you going to kill rabbits or what? I do have other duties to take care of today, as you should know."

"Merlin, who do you think-"

"Deer," he cried, pointing behind the prince.

Arthur's head snapped around, catching a disappearing glimpse of soft fur and hooves. He was thoroughly distracted as he raced to track their vanishing company, forgetting it all in his determination to bring such an admirable catch home.

After an exhausting week of coaxing, Arthur had to admit he'd been wrong; Merlin was much tougher to crack than Arthur initially surmised. His efforts to extract a confession had been...formidable, to say the least, but Merlin held fast.

"Would you stop it already?" Merlin finally shouted after several days of persistent interrogation, having finally been pressed far past the limits of his patience.

Despite noting Merlin had been edgy all week, Arthur blinked, still taken aback by the outburst.

"I just want you to admit the truth," he said defensively. Hoping to goad Merlin into an argument, he allowed himself a smug smirk. "Come, Merlin, it's perfectly understandable. I'm a handsome prince who's saved your scrawny neck more times than I can count. I'm completely out of your league, but I'm sure no one could blame you for pining."

Merlin opened his mouth, and then closed it, his lips forming a hard line.

Arthur suddenly felt a vague misgiving at the harsh expression, and nervously wondered if he'd pushed too far. Nevertheless, he forced himself to hold his smile.

"Look, Arthur," Merlin finally said venomously, fueled by the week of continuous stress. "Let's just suppose you were right, and I'm in love with you."

"You admit it," Arthur declared, although his triumph subsided under Merlin's glare.

"I did no such thing," Merlin hissed. "We're speaking hypothetically."

"All right, Merlin," Arthur agreed.

His voice was condescending, and he really should stop riling Merlin up, but he wasn't sure how to face this sudden anger. He'd never seen Merlin so furious with him before, or with anybody, really. It was a futile hope that by maintaining his normal attitude, Merlin would fall back into his usual patterns as well, because it seemed his servant was truly well and done with his teasing.

"Shut up," Merlin snapped, and continued before Arthur had the chance to scold him for speaking to his prince like that. "Let's just say I did like you like that. So what?"

"What do you mean, 'so what'-"

"I mean, what are you going to do about it?" Merlin cut him off. "What would, or could, I do about it? You aren't in love with me. So why would you need to know?"

"It's good to be honest about this sort of thing," Arthur protested weakly, beginning to feel a trifle guilty under the onslaught of Merlin's ardent mood. Perhaps he'd gone a bit too far with his teasing.

"Why? Because we're friends?" Merlin demanded. "If you're my friend, isn't it rather cruel of you to mock me, when there's no chance that you'd ever be in love with stupid, clumsy Merlin?"

All of a sudden, Arthur felt rather sick from Merlin's interpretation, because that wasn't why he'd done it at all. He hadn't meant any harm by it, he'd just wanted-

He'd just wanted-

"We are friends, aren't we?" Merlin suddenly asked, voice going low, vulnerable, and imploring. Arthur had never felt so put on the spot. Of course they were friends, but he couldn't admit that, because Merlin was-

"You're a servant," Arthur blurted, and he was about to add that Merlin was the bravest and most loyal servant he'd ever had, and that Arthur wouldn't trade him for anything or anyone. Even though Arthur couldn't admit that they were friends, he could certainly imply it.

Unfortunately, caught by the lump in his throat, he hesitated just a second too long in choosing his words. At his silence, Merlin took a step back as though struck.

It was only then that Arthur realized what his previous words would have implied, and oh no, wrong thing to say-

"Wait, Merlin, I didn't finish. I meant that-"

"Never mind, my Lord," Merlin interrupted bitterly, his expression darkening, and then blank. "That was my mistake."

"Merlin, wait-" Arthur caught his arm, holding on tightly even while Merlin roughly tried to shake him off.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Merlin said bitingly, prying at Arthur's fingers and refusing to look him in the eyes. "I'd never be in love with someone who could be such an ass."

"Merlin-"

Gwen came around the corner just then. She was out of Merlin's line of vision, but certainly not Arthur's. The prince's eyes widened at her sudden appearance, releasing Merlin's arm in surprise. He regretted the action immediately when his servant took the opportunity to dart off, slipping past the way in which Gwen had come, barely seeming to see her as he fled.

"My Lord?" she asked uncertainly, watching Arthur with wide eyes that darted between him and the corner around which Merlin had disappeared.

"Guinevere," he said faintly, thrown entirely off balance. He wanted to chase after Merlin; their conversation had gone terribly, but he didn't know what he should say. Nor did he know what he would tell Guinevere, if he suddenly ran off. It was completely improper.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" she asked hesitantly, looking like she wanted to chase after Merlin herself. Propriety stopped her, as she lingered to check on her prince.

"I think," Arthur said, swallowing loudly. "I think I might have done something… cruel."

Gwen stared at him suspiciously. "What did you say to Merlin?"

"I may have been, well, poking fun at him, for being in love with me," Arthur admitted, shamefaced.

"Merlin is in love … with you?" Gwen asked cautiously, carefully watching Arthur's response.

"Well, he never actually said," Arthur admitted hastily. "Of course he denied it, I just wanted him to be honest with me."

"So you just assumed he was in love with you," she said, obviously disapproving.

"Yes?" said Arthur uncertainly.

Gwen paused, taking in the information with an incredulous expression. She looked at Arthur like he was quite dense, a look he was quite familiar with thanks to Merlin, but he wasn't used to seeing it directed at him so blatantly from Gwen. He prickled peevishly.

"Oh, Arthur," Gwen sighed. "It's incredibly rude to just assume these things. And you made fun of him for it?"

"I didn't mean any harm," Arthur said defensively. "I mean, it's Merlin. He can handle a bit of ribbing."

"This isn't just a bit of ribbing," Gwen snapped, taking Arthur aback. Biting her lip, she seemed to remember her place, before taking a breath and gathering her courage.

"If he is in love with you, it would hurt him very much if you mocked him for it," she said. "And if he isn't in love with you, it would still hurt him, because he does care for you, even if it isn't romantic. Either way, he knows now that you don't take him seriously, and that's... It's not a good thing, to know that you can never be anything more than servant and prince, whether it's friends or lovers. By mocking him, you didn't respect him as a person with feelings."

She finished quickly, fidgeting with her dress. "I'm sorry, my Lord. It's not my place, but I think you just reminded Merlin of his place. And... It's not for me to assume, but I'd wager that you didn't intend to do so. I don't mean to overstep-" she continued anxiously, before Arthur cut her off.

"It's all right, Guinevere," he said, to spare her further rambling. She'd gotten better at controlling the nervous habit, but it still reasserted itself on occasion. "You… have a point."

They stood there in awkward silence. Arthur stood with his arms crossed as Gwen eyed him warily.

"Perhaps you should go after him?" she suggested tentatively, when Arthur still didn't react.

"Yes," he concurred, even though he had no idea what he could say to him. He'd never had a friend before. Not like Merlin. And now he'd made a thorough mess of it. "I should go after him."

Still, he didn't move, and now was Guinevere watching him with something approaching pity. "You don't know what to say to him, do you?"

"Of course I do," Arthur said quickly. Silence fell again. Eventually he deflated under her skeptical gaze. "Well. Maybe not," he admitted reluctantly.

"Well," Gwen said slowly. "I don't know about Merlin, but... are you in love with him?"

Arthur gaped at her.

"It's all right if you are," Gwen continued hurriedly. "I really didn't expect you to wait around for me, and I'll be fine, so I don't want you to hold back on my account. Merlin is my best friend—well, aside from Morgana—so I want the two of you to be happy... Not that I don't want you to wait for me, but I'll find my own happiness no matter what. Oh! And I'm not against the fact that you're both, uh, men or anything, that's fine, and oh, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

She cut off her own babbling as Arthur gaped at her in vague panic.

His response might have been slightly belated, and a tad loud, but that was only because of the shock.

"Of course I'm not in love with Merlin," he denied, off-key. To his increasing agitation, it only gave Gwen reason to view his declaration doubtfully.

"I see," she said. She hummed and then continued absent-mindedly, "He might have forgiven you more easily, if you were..."

"What do you mean?" Arthur demanded.

"Well, if you were in love with him, you could have apologized, and explained that was the reason you wanted him to admit his own feelings so badly," Gwen elaborated absentmindedly. She paused, thoughtful. "Why did you want him to admit it so badly?"

"I just-" Arthur began, uncertain how, or if he even could explain. "I just got carried away." Gwen, though, seemed to reach her own conclusions. "Guinevere, I don't want you getting the wrong idea-"

The rest of the words fell into silence as he was struck by a sudden thought.

"Wait. So you think that if I really was in love with him, he'd be more inclined to forgive me?"

"Yes, but since you say that you're not," she said, her brow furrowed warily. "I think you'll just have to apologize."

"But I could say that I am," Arthur pointed out, growing excited at his budding plan.

"Arthur," Gwen said anxiously. "You can't mean to fake feelings for him?"

"It'd just be for a while," Arthur insisted. "He'll snap out of it soon, right? He just has a little crush. I won't need to fake them for long, and besides, I... I do care for him. He's my-" he stumbled for a second, but when the words finally managed to come out, they rang terrifyingly true. "He's my most trusted friend."

The admission made him feel slightly embarrassed, but surely he was man enough that he could admit this much to Gwen. Arthur knew she wouldn't mock him-

Oh.

Suddenly, he felt terribly guilty all over again, because now he finally understood exactly how he'd mocked Merlin. He'd mocked him the same way in which he'd feared it being directed at himself. Even worse, he'd mocked his romantic feelings.

Abruptly panicked that Merlin wouldn't forgive him, Arthur felt all the more dedicated to the new plan. He would be "in love" with Merlin as long as he needed to, so long as Merlin forgave him. He couldn't not forgive him. Arthur couldn't imagine having Merlin hate him.

Well, actually, he could. Their first meeting came to mind. But instead of the amusement he typically felt towards those memories, he felt a deep terror that they would somehow return to that, now that he knew Merlin's impression of him had changed.

"Arthur, this could hurt Merlin very much," Gwen told him urgently. "Even if you care for him, if he finds out-"

"He won't find out," Arthur insisted. "And I'm not mocking him with this. I want to make things right between us, and for that I need him to forgive me."

"He might not ever forgive you if you go through with this," she continued, frustrated.

"It's just a crush," Arthur maintained. "It's harmless. I'll pretend to love him until he's over it, and no one needs to be any the wiser."

"It's not honorable. You're a better man than this, Arthur Pendragon."

"I-" Arthur started, but he stopped quickly, enthusiasm dimming. She was right. He'd been so caught up in the idea, he hadn't even considered the dishonor of pursuing someone he had no interest in.

He just wanted Merlin to forgive him.

"You're right," he relented, his shoulders hunching. "Of course. You're right."

Gwen deflated as well as she frowned in sympathy. "It's all right, Arthur. Just go apologize. I'm sure he'll forgive you when he sees you're sincere."

"Sure. It's Merlin, after all. How long can Merlin, of all people, hold a grudge?" he asked weakly.

Chapter Text

It turned out Merlin could hold a grudge for a very long time.

He hadn’t referred to Arthur as anything but “Sire” or “My Lord” for over a week. No matter how often Arthur tried to lure him into conversation, or even argument, Merlin reacted with perfect professionalism.

His breakfast was on time. It consisted of food he most hated, of course, but nothing was wrong with it otherwise. Whereas before Merlin would sneak in a pastry treat or nab some extra fresh fruit, Arthur now had bland, if not perfectly acceptable, early-morning breakfasts.

There were no more obnoxious “rise and shines!”. Now, he quietly and gradually opened up the curtains and puttered about quietly until Arthur had no choice but to get up or be late. He’d almost been tardy to his first morning practice, the day after their fight.

There were no friendly conversations while he bathed, or while he settled down for the night. There were no knowing smirks when the nobles made their bootlicking just a little too obvious. Nor the quiet camaraderie when Merlin assisted with his armour, the encouraging pats on the shoulder, or touches that lingered just a bit too long to be proper.

Any arguments Arthur finally managed to goad Merlin into ended with Merlin clenching his jaw, and then taking his leave - no snarky retorts, nor blatant disregard for his title.

He’d spoken to Gwen, a few times, for advice. She told him Merlin’s hostility was lessening, but he wasn’t sure he believed it.

So a long week and a half after Merlin’s fateful outburst, he decided it was time to have a candid, heart-to-heart conversation with Merlin, even if it killed him. Although to be perfectly honest, risking death in a fighting tournament was preferable, any day.

He trapped Merlin in his room that night, edging between Merlin and the exit, while his servant was busy stoking the fire - his last of his duties before turning in.

“Merlin,” Arthur began, causing the other man to look up. Merlin narrowed his eyes, his gaze flickering between Arthur and the door.

“My Lord?” he asked cautiously.

“I wanted to apologize again,” Arthur said. He’d already done so the night of the fight, not long after his conversation with Gwen, but perhaps it hadn’t gotten through. There was still a desperate hope inside that maybe if he tried just one more time , he’d finally be forgiven.

Merlin watched him with tight lips, his jaw stubbornly set. He looked more tired than angry, though, and Arthur took this as encouragement.

“I didn’t mean to mock you,” he insisted. Merlin raised a doubtful eyebrow, perhaps an unconscious habit picked up from Gaius, and Arthur’s mouth dried. “I only wanted-” he began once more, only to quickly run out of words.

Merlin was not amused.

“You only wanted what?” he pressed,distrust clear on his tone.

Arthur faltered.

“I wanted… I only wanted you to say you loved me,” he said slowly, carefully. He eyed Merlin, but his servant’s eyebrow was unwavering, and that didn’t bode well for Arthur.

He hastily pushed on. “I wanted it because... because-” Arthur stumbled through his words, horrifically reminded of his conversation with Gwen, when he’d been unable to explain his reasoning. Except he was talking to Merlin this time, and he really couldn’t botch this apology.

“Because why?” Merlin demanded impatiently. He looked a hair away from storming off.

“Because-” Arthur’s mind raced, trying to latch onto to something, anything, that could work as an excuse. Anything to keep him there; to cease Merlin’s suspicious gaze. “ Because I’m in love with you, ” he blurted without thinking, unwittingly repeating the words Gwen had given him.

His eyes widened in horror.

“ What? ” Merlin exclaimed, and Arthur thought he sounded equally horrified. The servant’s eyes were wide, mouth hung open in an undignified manner.

Speechless from his own words, Arthur could do little else but inwardly lament his misfortune.

Granted, Arthur had considered the idea, but, with a little help from Gwen, he had also understood how dishonorable and unbecoming it was of a knight and prince. Though he’d never intended to act on it, he’d lingered on the idea for a long time after Gwen suggested it; maybe too long, for him to blurt it out like this in a moment of panic.

Before him, Merlin’s expression flickered from incredulity, to suspicion, and then rested on angry resignation.

“You’re mocking me again,” Merlin finally spoke, before Arthur could gather his wits.

“ No ,” Arthur said loudly and quickly, then gave a cough to clear his throat, panicked. “I mean … No.”

He tried to appear calm, but internally, Arthur was floundering. He couldn’t say that he’d been lying - not without a good excuse, or Merlin would think that he was mocking him. Arthur wasn’t, but he was at a loss as to how he could explain himself without implicating Guinevere; it had been her fault he’d even considered those words, after all, but he couldn’t very well say that he’d discussed the situation with her. He didn’t need Merlin further angry at him for revealing his secret crush. It suddenly seemed like a betrayal of confidence, no matter how trustworthy Gwen proved.

“I am in love with you,” Arthur said slowly, trying to sound resolute. The words tasted strange on his tongue. “That was why I... I only mean, I didn’t intend to mock. I wanted you to... say it back,” he blurted, half-rambling as he improvised his way through. Suddenly, as he said those words, the reason behind Guinevere’s excuse were finally clear to him. “Yes, that’s it. I wanted you to say it back. That’s why I wanted you to admit it,” Arthur repeated with stronger confidence.

“You pestered me about it,” Merlin summarised doubtfully. “Because you have ... feelings for me.”

“Yes?” Arthur answered weakly.

Merlin paused, seeming to think it over. “No,” he finally announced. “No, I don’t believe you.”

“What?” Arthur said, indignant. He disliked his honor being questioned, even if he was behaving dishonorably at the moment. “Don’t you trust me? Why would I lie about such a thing?”

“To ‘poke fun’ at me,” Merlin said sourly, without hesitation.

“I wouldn’t,” Arthur insisted, agitated, but honest for once. “Haven’t I apologized?”

Merlin mulled over Arthur’s words for a long minute until he finally displayed the first hint of possible belief. It seemed to add an odd vulnerability to his stance.

Arthur, though, didn’t spare a second to ponder about it, quickly seizing his chance.

“I wouldn’t,” he said again, firmly, staring unflinchingly into the depths of Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin watched him with his eyebrows furrowed, and expression pained. An agitated fist drew over his face before it landed over his mouth, pressed against it as if not trusting himself to speak words he wouldn’t regret.

“I’ll prove it to you, Merlin,” Arthur said, more compellingly, trying to fill in the uneasy silence. “Just give me time. I’ll make it up to you. I swear it.”

The expression on Merlin’s face was near unreadable, but Arthur thought he caught a reluctant flicker of hope.

“All right, Arthur,” Merlin said slowly, using his first name for the first time in over a week. Arthur almost could have wept with relief. “But if this is all a joke, you’d best tell me now, or I shan’t forgive you.”

Arthur felt a jolt of indecision, but only a moment.

He’d take this secret to the grave, if it meant having Merlin as a friend again.

“It’s not a joke,” he promised, and he was gifted with the smallest of upward tugs to the corner of Merlin’s lips. In that instant, all lingering thoughts of indecision fled his mind, and Arthur felt victorious.

ooo

Arthur might have said that he’d make it up to Merlin, that he would prove he wasn’t lying about his love towards the other man, but he wasn’t sure how to actually go about it.

With a bit of deliberation, he decided that breakfast was a place to start. Before Merlin arrived to fetch him the next morning, Arthur woke uncharacteristically early to order another servant to bring him his meal.

Merlin came bursting in not ten minutes after it was delivered, slightly out of breath, and carrying his own platter of food for the prince. He drew up short when saw the stocked table, frowning as his eyes flickered up to where Arthur sat, fully dressed, on the sill of the window.

“You’re up early,” he observed, frown ever-present on his face. Arthur felt unusually nervous; even if he didn’t really love Merlin, he still needed Merlin to think he loved him, because Arthur did like Merlin, just not in that way, and wanted Merlin to like him back.

And, perhaps, dealing with Merlin’s love wouldn’t be a terrible cross to bear, either.

“You could’ve sent someone to tell me that you wouldn’t need breakfast,” Merlin said disapprovingly, setting down his own plates so that he could go tidy Arthur’s blankets. He might have dressed himself, but a prince certainly couldn’t be expected to make his own bed.

“But I did need a breakfast,” Arthur said, forcing his voice as casual as he could.

“Another one?” Merlin asked dubiously. “No matter how much extra training you put the knights through, there comes a point where you’ll still need another notch poked in your belt.”

“Not for me, Merlin,” Arthur said irritably. When Merlin looked at him with raised eyebrows, he cleared his throat subconsciously. “You’ve brought me my breakfast. The one already here is yours.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, completely taken aback. Opening his mouth as though to say something, he bit his lip just after, hands reaching up to fidget with his scarf, for a lack of proper words. “ Oh .”

“Yes,” Arthur said awkwardly, clearing his throat again. “What I mean is- Merlin, will you dine with me?”

“Oh,” he said once more, softly. Hesitantly, he glanced between the table and Arthur, then seemed to take heart when he saw that the prince was visibly nervous.

“All right,” he decided slowly, and Arthur’s heart inexplicably stuttered.

Merlin plopped down in the chair across from Arthur’s, before the prince had a chance to come over and pull it out for him, much to his annoyance. Still, Merlin had accepted the invitation. Surely that meant something.

“Well, are you going to join me?” Merlin asked, regaining some of his spirit. Despite having his own breakfast, he reached over and plucked a grape from Arthur’s plate.

Merlin was smiling up at him, though, and Arthur couldn’t bring himself to mind the stolen fruit.

Chapter Text

“Merlin, we’re going out this afternoon,” Arthur announced, as Merlin puttered about in the background of his room .

Merlin had been shooting him peculiar looks ever since his ‘confession’, and that first day when he’d asked him to dine with him. Guarded, but with a growing, underlying uncertainty, as though he didn’t quite know what to expect anymore. Arthur knew it was because he’d been treating Merlin... well, nicely .

It felt strange to Arthur too, but surprisingly not unpleasant. And he supposed sacrifices must be made in the name of friendship.

“Uh, no we’re not,” Merlin said, with a rather condescending smile on his face.

“I’m the prince ,” Arthur began, before remembering that he was trying to make Merlin forget that particular conversation. He continued hastily, “and surely you don’t have anything better to do?”

“I do, actually,” he shot back impudently. “I promised to collect herbs for Gaius.”

Arthur scowled, and then a new idea occurred to him. It was an even better one, actually; it allowed Merlin to see his more compassionate side.

“Very well,” he said decisively. “I’ll help you.”

Yes, he, a prince, would help his manservant collect herbs.

“Really,” Merlin said dubiously, and Arthur bristled at the implication. “ You’re going to help me.”

“That’s what I said,” Arthur glared, daring him to argue. “It’s not like your work could possibly be that difficult if you’re bright enough to do it.”

He’d said it automatically, but then winced at the insult. Disparaging his manservant probably wasn’t the best way to prove his ‘confession’ sincere (especially if it wasn’t).

“Not that you don’t have other charms,” Arthur backtracked hastily, somewhat panicked. “And not to say you’re a complete idiot. I mean, I know I say you are, but perhaps I have been a bit...unfair-” He was starting to sound like Guinevere.

Merlin interrupted his alarmed rambling with a snort.

“Well, you can keep me company, I suppose,” he mused, losing interest in the conversation and restarting his chores. “I don’t know why you’re so keen to come, though.”

“Can’t I want to spend time in your company?” Arthur asked, affronted. While he might have said so for the purpose of his wooing, he found the question surprisingly honest. He did enjoy spending time with Merlin; in fact, he probably preferred his company to anyone else’s.

Merlin gave him an unreadable look, oddly ingenuous at the question.

“I suppose you can,” he said softly, and now Arthur was the one to feel unusually vulnerable. He looked away, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the fact that his mouth felt abnormally dry.

Merlin tended to play the fool, so when he took on a serious demeanor, when Merlin had those moments, those instances of wisdom in which he seemed almost otherworldly , Arthur always found himself at a bit of loss for words.

“Well, good,” he said, clearing his throat to dissipate the strange atmosphere. Merlin gave him a quirky smile, and Arthur caught himself staring.

He looked away.

“Good,” he repeated.

ooo

“You want ones with these types of leaves,” Merlin was saying, as Arthur half-listened to his flowing words. “Make sure they have the four lobes; ignore the ones with three, those will just give you stomach aches.”

“All right, all right,” Arthur agreed absentmindedly, mind on his intentions for the afternoon instead.

Without Merlin noticing, he’d managed to sneak lunches for the both of them onto the side of his steed, hidden among all his usual bags. It was quite the feat, given that Merlin generally took charge of preparing the animals to be ridden. He’d asked the cook to pack their lunches; he knew better than to attempt his own cooking after the fiasco with Gwen. He also knew better than to lie about it this time, as well. If Gwen had seen through him, then Merlin most definitely would.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked doubtfully.

“Yes, Mer lin,” Arthur drawled impatiently. “It’s hardly advanced maths.”

Part of the difficulty laid in the fact that he wasn’t used to being nice to Merlin, and certainly not to sneaking around him. Their relationship wasn’t one based entirely on sweet, honeyed conversations; he could hardly imagine wooing Merlin in the way the bards sang about knights wooing their beloved.

Rather, their relationship was based on trust and a mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. It was a relationship in which Merlin knew everything that Arthur did , and sometimes even what he thought . While that wasn’t something he minded anymore, considering how efficient it made the pair, it was not conducive to surprising Merlin with picnics or fooling him with false confessions.

There was a measure of irony in the fact that Arthur had wanted everything to return to normal, and yet here, he was actively trying to change the status quo so that it could return to normal.

Arthur was certain he must have angered some terrible god, in that he didn’t even have help with the courting this time. With Guinevere, Merlin had assisted him. So who was supposed to help him with Merlin ?

Arthur dumped an assemblage of herbs into his basket with a scowl, unsure if he’d picked the right ones, but not particularly caring either. Did Merlin say to pick the plants with three lobes or four? Merlin could sort them out later.

A cluster of blue flowers in the periphery of his vision caught his attention. Arthur studied them for a moment. It occurred to him that they matched the colour of Merlin’s eyes, and then in the same moment, it also suddenly occurred that trying to prove his confession was trifling with his brain, if such fanciful thoughts befell him even when said confession had been a lie.

Yet, he should be taking the situation seriously, so of course such thoughts should occur to him, especially considering he was staking his friendship on the success of convincing Merlin the sincerity of his feelings. The idea made him uncomfortable, but discomfort was a small price to pay, if it meant earning forgiveness.

Besides, so far it hadn’t been terrible. Having company for breakfast had been pleasant , even, and treating Merlin like an equal felt ... right.

Affirming his resolve, Arthur picked the flowers, feeling foolish as he did so, but they really did match Merlin’s eyes perfectly. He’d be remiss not to take the opportunity, as awkward as it felt.

That did beg the question, however, of why Arthur had been staring at Merlin’s eyes frequently enough that he could match their shade exactly.

Nevertheless, he did favor picking flowers over herbs. He was sure Merlin would like them better anyway, so he set out to find different flowers in a variety of complementary blues. He was about to take his pickings to his manservant, when a pair of golden flowers caught his regard. It didn’t match with the scheme, but he picked them anyway, and he found their addition quite fetching. He was certain Morgana would have something disparaging to say about his flower-arranging, but he doubted Merlin would have such supercilious opinions on bouquets. Arthur chose instead to listen to what he supposed Gwen would say; he imagined she’d think it rather sweet. He could only hope Merlin would agree.

“Arthur, did you finish gathering the plants I—” Merlin drew up short, giving him a mistrustful look when he saw the bundle of flowers in Arthur’s arms. “What are you doing?”

“I,” Arthur began, and whereas before he’d dedicated himself so thoroughly into his flower-gathering task as to not feel any nerves, he felt as though it all crashed down on him at once when faced with the necessity of actually presenting them. Merlin was going to laugh.

“Arthur,” Merlin said slowly, as though speaking to someone extremely dense. “I’m sure you worked very hard, but those aren’t actually herbs.”

“I know that,” Arthur said defensively. “I just thought... these suited you better. Your eyes, I mean. So I thought I’d give you these instead.”

Suddenly, slacking off on picking the herbs didn’t seem like such an intelligent approach, after all. In fact, the whole thing was a terrible idea, and Merlin’s idiocy must be catching that he’d even attempted such a thing—

“You... Did you pick me flowers , Arthur?” Merlin blurted incredulously.

“Yes,” he said uncertainly, then, with more confidence, “no. Yes. May be. I—”

Merlin approached cautiously, gingerly reaching out to touch the petals when he drew close enough. Arthur’s rambling cut off; the blue really did complement his eyes perfectly, and contrasted with his skin in a rather flattering light. Arthur could almost see why a girl—or man, even—might fancy him; Merlin could be quite handsome, if he happened to suit someone’s taste...

“Why?” Merlin asked slowly, and Arthur blinked, having lost track of the conversation in his musings. He fumbled for an answer.

“They matched your eyes,” he managed, and then mentally kicked himself; he’d already said that.

Merlin’s fingers trailed over to the pair of golden flowers, just off center, and looked up with a questioning look, expression guarded.

To his mortification, Arthur felt himself flushing. “I picked those two on a whim,” he admitted in a rush. “I thought they looked nice, but I never had Morgana’s flower-arranging lessons. If they displease you—”

“No,” Merlin interrupted, his expression clearing at Arthur’s explanation. His lips twitched into a smile, as if he had a secret. Arthur’s eyes caught on his mouth as a result. “I like them.”

“Oh,” Arthur said dumbly, blinking out of his daze. A rush of relief overwhelmed him when the words registered. Merlin reached out to gently take the flowers from him, and Arthur swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Oh. ”

Merlin fidgeted with the flowers, giving a slight sneeze, before fidgeting some more. He peeked up at Arthur from behind them, until Arthur could see a hint of blue from underneath his eyelashes, and then quickly looked back down. The tips of his ears were turning quite red, and Arthur found himself assailed by a suddenly jovial mood. He smiled widely.

Merlin glanced up at him again, and his eyes widened when he caught Arthur’s expression.

“Should we head back to the castle for lunch, then?” Merlin blurted, looking horribly, delightfully embarrassed by the whole situation.

“No need,” Arthur said, taking a hold of Merlin’s arm, and tugging him buoyantly towards the horses, bouquet and all. When they reached them, he unstrapped his bags and revealed their lunch with a flourish. “I thought we’d make a day of it, so I planned ahead.”

“You didn’t ask me to get us lunch,” Merlin said, baffled.

“I thought you might like to sleep in, so I told the kitchen staff last night,” Arthur explained, to which Merlin looked even more dumbfounded.

“You actually thought about this,” Merlin said disbelievingly.

Arthur felt slightly offended at that, but his mood was too cheery to ruin so easily. “Unlike certain people, Merlin,” Arthur said imperiously, “some of us are capable of planning ahead.”

Merlin snorted, finally breaking into his own hesitant smile, finding Arthur’s reluctantly contagious.

“Some of us are also capable of counting to four,” Merlin said bemusedly, snatching a three-lobed plant from Arthur’s bag. “But maybe I just expect too much of you, Arthur.”

Arthur reached out to cuff the back of Merlin’s head in response. Merlin ducked out of  the way, laughing brightly. The ensuing chase and impromptu wrestling match resulted in dirtied breeches, ruffled hair, and mildly squashed lunches, but Merlin was breathless and happily flushed, and Arthur suspected he might have looked much the same.

Collecting the herbs took twice as long since Arthur kept distracting Merlin instead of helping. Still, Arthur considered the afternoon a success, and to his astonishment, found that he’d probably enjoyed himself just as much as Merlin. He worried that he wasn’t wooing him correctly, but Merlin still blushed and fell uncharacteristically silent when he went to retrieve his flowers to bring on the trip home.

To Arthur’s dismay, Merlin’s sneezing began and intensified on the ride back; Merlin was most definitely allergic to the flowers. He suggested several times for Merlin to just leave the bouquet, but Merlin only ignored him in between the sneezes.

It warmed him more than he’d like to admit, when they made it all the way back to Camelot, and he could still see the bundle of flowers tucked securely in Merlin’s pouch.

ooo

“What are we doing here?” Merlin asked, looking uncomfortable and out of place.

Arthur had shoved him into a secluded corner of the Rising Sun seconds ago, before quickly waving down the barmaid for two drinks.

“I would expect you of all people to know what people do in the tavern, Merlin,” Arthur retorted cheerfully, pleased with himself for his newest idea. He’d been drawing a blank for new ways to impress Merlin these past few days. In a stroke of genius, he’d suddenly recalled his manservant's love for the tavern.

Merlin eyed the tankard in front of him. “I don’t like ale,” he said.

Arthur scoffed. “After all the times you’ve skipped your duties for a drink? I’m even giving you permission this time,” he drawled, smirk on his face, but the amusement in his tone never lessened.

Slowly, Merlin wrapped his hands around the tankard, bringing it up to his mouth. He glanced at Arthur over his mead before finally loosening with a smile.

“Well … I suppose, if you insist,” he murmured to Arthur’s infectious cheer.

“I’ve got the coin. Drink up.”

And drink Merlin did, until he was spectacularly drunk barely hours into it.

It was embarrassing to see Merlin such a lightweight. How he could spend so much time in the tavern and still be so ridiculously terrible at holding his liquor, Arthur didn’t know.

As he manhandled the idiot out of the establishment, he sighed. It’d only taken a little more than two drinks to reduce Merlin to this state. Arthur didn’t even get a chance to enjoy himself, deciding it would be best to escort him home before a defenseless, drunk Merlin could get into trouble.

“It’s a wonder I’m not required to carry your drunk arse home more often,” Arthur muttered, mostly to himself. Merlin stumbled down the alley.

“I don’-“ he said, before breaking off into a little giggle. “I to-old you I don’t go t’the tavern.”

It was like the muscles in Merlin’s tongue had forgotten how to function. It was surprisingly entertaining to watch. Arthur humoured his manservant by replying.

“Where do you go, then?”

Merlin stopped, swaying in spot. He blinked owlishly for a long second, like he couldn’t comprehend Arthur’s words.

“To save you?” he then finally replied, head tilted and brows furrowed, as if thinking hard. He blinked again and then nodded to himself. “Fo’ my destiny.”

“Really.”

“You’d be dead wi’hout me,” Merlin declared.

“Perhaps,” Arthur conceded. At the very least he’d have died from boredom.

A grin blossomed on Merlin’s face.

Merlin whirled around until he was completely facing Arthur. His face was red from the alcohol, and eyes half-lidded as he tried to stay awake.

There was a distant tone to his voice when he spoke next. “I wish-“ he began, and then tumbled gracelessly.

Arthur shot forwards. His arms slid around Merlin to support his weight, pulling Merlin to lean on him. It wasn’t a particularly cold night, but Merlin shivered in his chest. He patted Merlin’s cheek gently, trying to keep him awake. He didn’t want to lug a limp body all the way back to Gaius’ chambers, after all.

“What do you wish?” Arthur asked encouragingly. Merlin let out a sigh.

“I wish you were real,” he breathed into the material of Arthur’s tunic.

Arthur chuckled, and Merlin splayed his hands across Arthur’s stomach, curiously feeling the vibrating muscles.

“How am I not real?” Arthur questioned. Arthur pushed Merlin’s head until his ear was pressed on top of Arthur’s heart where the rhythmic beating echoed for the manservant to hear. “Isn’t that proof I’m real?”

Merlin leaned deeper into Arthur, as if trying to bury himself there and never leave. Still, he shook his head, frantically like Arthur didn’t understand. “That’s not what I- No, I know-.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said firmly.

Merlin rolled his head until his chin was on Arthur’s chest, glazed blue eyes staring his master under dark lashes. The rumble of his voice tickled Arthur’s skin, and Arthur’s breathing involuntarily hitched.

“You’ll laugh and take it back,” Merlin whispered painfully.

“You’re not making sense. Take what back?” he demanded.

“Your words, your-” he let out a little hiccup.

“Merlin.”

Merlin shook his head on Arthur’s tunic. “Just let me pretend,” he pleaded softly.

“What are you on about?” Arthur demanded once more, but Merlin’s eyes were closed and he was left with an armful of his drunken manservant, fast asleep and oblivious to the world.

ooo

Arthur could do courteous.

Although admittedly, applying all his knightly, chivalrous ways to Merlin, of all people, was an experience like no other.

If he’d known it would be so entertaining, however, perhaps he would have tried it ages ago. Every time Arthur held open the door for him, helped Merlin carry his things, or even pulled out his chair for him during their now-routine morning breakfasts, Merlin would look torn between glaring, flushing in terrible embarrassment, or looking utterly confused.

It was remarkably entertaining, and Arthur found himself actually growing enthusiastic about this ‘wooing Merlin’ business. Even if he’d only confessed out of a desperate attempt to save their friendship, he had to admit that Merlin’s reactions were incredibly amusing, if not endearing - speaking as a friend, of course.

The only challenge was finding new ways to catch Merlin off guard. His manservant seemed to have realized Arthur’s construed entertainment at Merlin’s embarrassment, and so he tried to adopt a graceful acceptance to all of Arthur’s advances. He actually managed fairly well when Arthur repeated his gestures; he did little more than blink in surprise at the breakfasts or the door-holding anymore.

The tavern experience, however, Arthur decided not to repeat. Something about that day had made his chest ache, as confusing as Merlin had been, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to put Merlin in that state once more.

So Arthur sat at his desk, pondering new ways to romance his manservant while said servant sat at the table, polishing his armour. Merlin had been doing the job in the armoury when he’d been angry, but lately he’d begun doing so in Arthur’s room again.

Music filtered in from below Arthur’s window. He’d cracked the glass open, given that it was a beautiful spring evening, and in doing so, they could now hear the sound of a violin drifting up from the courtyard and through the twilight air. The room itself was lit softly in the setting sun’s light, not quite dark enough for candles yet, but glowing warm and intimate.

Arthur was hit with a sudden inspiration at the scene.

Before he knew it, he’d approached Merlin and stood in front of him, impulsively offering his arm.

Merlin glanced up at him, startled. “Sire?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to dance,” Arthur proclaimed, although his confidence waned just after he’d gotten out the words.

Merlin was giving him that look again, the one that said Arthur was being ridiculous and that Merlin was sure that he must be joking, because otherwise, he’d finally drawn enough evidence to conclude that the prince was a complete idiot.

In between the glaring-embarrassed-confused Merlin, his manservant also had a proclivity towards laughing at just as many of his pursuits. Whereas Arthur’s nerves, while present, would largely dissipate in the face of a perplexed in Merlin, in the face of a poised Merlin, Arthur would find himself at twice of a loss.

He’d yet to find a pattern to Merlin’s responses, and somehow he doubted he ever would. Arthur had hence concluded that Merlin was an impossible and unpredictable ninny, due to the fact that no one could comprehend how his irrational mind worked.

“You’re asking me to dance?” Merlin asked, his voice almost a tease. He also had a tendency to repeat what Arthur said, and making it sound positively absurd when coming out of his own mouth.

Still, Arthur could hardly back down now , or else it would be like admitting defeat.

Besides, he’d found that despite Merlin’s occasional apparent mockery, the manservant would usually go along with him, so long as he didn’t back down.

“Are you saying no?” Arthur challenged, still holding out his arm, as though he were escorting someone to a royal gathering. He made sure to keep the apprehensiveness out of his tone.

“No,” Merlin said, and then continued quickly, upon seeing Arthur’s face fall, “I mean, no, I’m not saying no. I just-”

“You just what ?” Arthur asked in exasperation, feeling rather foolish just standing there.

“Are you really offering me to escort me five feet away from my chair?” Merlin asked, looking pointedly down at Arthur’s offered forearm.

“Shut up, Merlin,” said Arthur, especially embarrassed when Merlin burst out into peals of laughter. Still, he hadn’t said no; in fact, he’d said he was not saying no, so Arthur took the initiative to snatch up Merlin’s hand and place it inside his elbow.

Merlin followed along easily, loose-limbed and relaxed, smiling brightly. Feeling his face heat up inexplicably, Arthur glanced away, and he had a feeling he was blushing visibly, if Merlin’s renewed laughter was anything to go by.

They reached the open area of his room. Merlin appeared to take pity on him by loosening his grip so that he could turn and face Arthur, and lean up to murmur in his ear.

“I accept your invitation,” he said, and he sounded so different , when he used that tone of voice. His close proximity caused Arthur’s heart to triple in speed.

It felt unbelievably intimate, until Merlin drew back, laughing again. Despite that, however, Arthur’s heart refused to slow down at all in response.

“Just don’t step on my toes,” Arthur said, trying to cover his agitation. He didn’t understand why he was so flustered; he hadn’t even gotten this bad with Guinevere.

“Oh, I will,” Merlin said cheerfully. “I don’t know why you asked me, I’m just a peasant who can’t tell a waltz from a jig. You will be suffering by the end of this.”

Surprisingly, Arthur was a bit reassured by this information, and built up the nerve to pull Merlin closer and look him in the eye. It was only polite, after all. Taking the lead, he positioned Merlin’s hands as he would for a lady; it wasn’t as though Merlin would be able to tell the difference anyway. He began to move to the distant music, and Merlin followed obligingly. Merlin did step on his foot more than once, but he picked up the pattern quickly enough.

Watching his feet more than he should, and clutching at Arthur’s shoulders for balance, he wasn’t the most graceful partner the prince had ever had. On the other hand, he was perhaps the most entertaining. It was enjoyable, doing this with a friend instead of out of the necessity to build a political alliance.

“I don’t know. This isn’t so bad,” Arthur said honestly, his voice intimate, unable to stop his gaze from drifting down to Merlin’s lips as he leaned in. Their foreheads brushed, and finally, Merlin’s breath was the one to catch.

“Says the one who doesn’t have to dance with a dollophead,” Merlin quipped, but he stepped in even closer, his actions at odds with his words. Arthur tightened his grip and heard Merlin’s breath hitch again in response.

“You don’t ‘have’ to dance with anyone. You want to,” Arthur murmured suggestively; they were barely even dancing anymore, just swaying, pressed together at a most improper distance. “You want to dance with me.”

“I might want to do more than that,” Merlin suggested lewdly. His eyes were cautious at first, as if testing Arthur’s reception, but that only lasted a flicker of a second. Then a mischievous grin discreetly crossed his features as he quickly turned his face, their noses unintentionally brushing at the movement.

Arthur would never live down the fact that, despite years of dancing lessons as a child and adolescent, and regardless that Merlin was the farmboy who didn’t know so much as the basics, Arthur was the one to stumble over his feet.

He hadn’t blundered such a simple dance in years, and yet one salacious comment from Merlin and he turned into a clumsy oaf.

Of course, they were standing so closely together that as soon as Arthur misstepped, their legs tangled and they fell with a crash. Groaning, Merlin lifted his head to look down at Arthur, who he’d toppled on top of. He burst out laughing at the sight, hiding his face in Arthur’s shoulder and not bothering to get up.

Arthur felt affronted at the moment, but Merlin was warm, and the situation was rather ridiculous. When Merlin finally gathered himself, stood, and offered him a hand up, Arthur took it and didn’t bother stifling a laugh of his own.

ooo

“Come along, Merlin,” Arthur called, pulling Merlin through the citadel with a hand clasped tightly on his wrist. Merlin stumbled behind him, eyes wide and clueless, darting around as if trying to catch sight of what had Arthur so excited.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked, huffing breathlessly as he kept up with Arthur’s pace.

His question drew a nervous grin to Arthur’s face. “It’s a surprise.”

Merlin stared doubtfully at him.

“You’ll love it,” Arthur promised.

“Like the impromptu dance?” Merlin’s brow scrunched into a concerned knot. Still, there was amusement in his eyes.

Arthur flushed at the reminder, still embarrassed at blundering a step and sending the two of them to the floor. “You didn’t seem to mind it.”

For a quick flicker of a second, Merlin’s face showed exasperated fondness, before becoming cautious once more. “So, can I at least have a hint?” Merlin wondered warily.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Arthur nodded past the guards as he shoved Merlin up the stairs to the wall of the castle. Each stumble of his manservant drew a twitch to his lips.

Merlin reached the top of the wall before him; considering Arthur had purposefully planted himself a step behind, ready to catch the clumsy idiot should he fall the wrong direction, that was no surprise.

Merlin dithered by the edge, leaning carelessly over to observe the ground below. Arthur’s heart stuttered at the thought of the long drop.

“Merlin, get over here,” he demanded, resisting the urge to pull him back by his collar.

Together they leaned on the parapet, propped by their elbows. The stony walls dug into skin, but surprisingly, Arthur found he couldn’t care less.

The sky was painted in colours of pinks, blues, and oranges that softened the world around them. It was a fitting place, Arthur thought, to haze their sight with the warmth of romance.

Merlin, of course, didn’t notice. He seemed to have his eyes latched on the ground, scanning the forest around Camelot, posture rigid. Arthur didn’t know what he was expecting, an impending invasion?

Arthur bumped his shoulder against Merlin’s. “That’s not why we’re here. Look up,” he murmured, head tilted to indicate far off past Camelot’s borders where the sun was slowly setting

Merlin looked up, then his eyes grew as he took in the sight. The tense stance he’d held himself in quickly relaxed. His body melted into a more comfortable lounge on the parapet, eyes enchanted by the horizon.

Arthur slumped down until they were on the same level, leaning in towards Merlin. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he breathed by his ear.

Perhaps it was just from the glow of the setting sun, but Merlin’s skin flushed red.

There was a choked hum from the back of Merlin’s throat that served as his answer, gaze fixed decisively on the setting sun.

Arthur pursed his lips. “Merlin,” he said lowly.

“Yes?” came his strangled voice.

“Like your surprise?” Arthur asked softly, slinging an arm across Merlin’s shoulders. It was a friendly gesture he’d done many times, and yet somehow, this time it suddenly felt different. He didn’t move, though, finding he liked the contact, even if it felt strange.

Merlin stiffened, eyes wildly peeking glances at Arthur.  

“Er…” He gave an experimental shrug of his shoulder as if testing if Arthur’s arm was truly there or not, before clearing his throat and sharply pulling his eyes back towards the sun. “Much better than the tavern, I suppose,” he said, breathier than usual.

Arthur snorted but grinned, pulling Merlin closer. He didn’t tug very hard, but Merlin still stumbled into Arthur’s chest.

“I thought that wasn’t so bad. You made an affectionate drunk,” Arthur commented nonchalantly, resting his head by Merlin’s. “Just relax, sun’s almost completely set. Don’t want you to get cold.”

Merlin’s form was stiff and motionless underneath the warmth of Arthur’s body draped over him.

“Uh, right. Sunset. Cold,” he agreed, words losing all semblance of English grammar.

The fragmented sentence encouraged Arthur, as for once he wasn’t the flustered wooer, and he resolved to hold Merlin as long as he could. Merlin was finally growing conscious of his presence.

He gallantly refrained from pointing it out, instead focusing back on the setting sun.

Gradually Merlin relaxed, his tense form loosening and finally molding into Arthur’s chest. Eventually he even started to looked comfortable, fit snuggly between Arthur’s arms like he belonged there.

“Merlin,” Arthur said suddenly.

The manservant gave an unintelligible hum.

“Merlin,” Arthur repeated.

Again, there was a hum, this time lilting at the end to signify a question.

“ Mer lin.”

Merlin scowled.

“What?” he demanded, finally turning his head towards him. At that movement, Arthur leaned forwards, capturing Merlin’s lips with his own.

Then, he possibly broke Merlin.

There were two possible scenarios Arthur had been imagining – in the first and most probable scenario, Merlin would reciprocate by leaning into the kiss; and in the second, Merlin would panic and pull back like a startled rabbit, if he was feeling particularly shy.

What actually occurred was: nothing.

Merlin froze the moment Arthur’s lips met his, eyes stuck perpetually wide and unblinking, dazed to the world. He was eerily still, and his breathing even seemed to have stuttered to a halt.

Arthur quickly pulled back, concerned.

“Merlin? All right there, Merlin?” he questioned hesitantly.

There was no answer. The manservant stared at him with wide, slightly wild eyes.

Arthur immediately detached his limbs from around him, worried about the way Merlin was as still as a stone statue, immobilised even while Arthur fussed about.

He thought perhaps if he gave Merlin a moment to collect himself, his servant would say something, so he turned to ostentatiously watch the sunset once more. Even so, most of his focus remained on Merlin out of the corner of his eye. In his periphery, Merlin reach up and touch his lips uncertainly, and then jerkily yank his hand away.

“All right,” Arthur said slowly, after a long minute of continued discreet staring in increasingly tense silence. He wondered if his words were even reaching him anymore. “Merlin, perhaps it would be best if I take you home now. Nod if you understand.”

Merlin stared at him with eyes like a spooked deer looking down the shaft of an arrow.

Arthur frowned anxiously. In all his years with Merlin, he’d never heard him speechless . He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not.

“I’m going to have to carry you,” he announced to the silence, hoping to elicit a response. Merlin had never much appreciated such sentiments.

Still there was nothing.

“Fine,” Arthur said, and then he did the next best thing, manhandling Merlin’s body and dragging him along until they finally reached Gaius’ chambers.

Which, upon revisiting this idea, was perhaps not the best place to return to, given that they ran straight into Gaius.

“My Lord?” the physician asked, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

“Ah, Gaius,” Arthur said, fidgety. He tried not to look guilty, but he couldn’t help as his gaze darted over to peek at Merlin. His ungrateful servant didn’t even have the decency to recover his wits and get him out of this mess.

“And may I inquire as to why the prince felt it necessary to return Merlin personally ?” Gaius asked delicately after it became apparent that he’d need to speak first. Arthur felt about six years old again, as if he’d knocked over one of the physician’s beakers and had to explain why he’d been playing under the table.

Arthur suddenly wondered if Merlin had told Gaius about his confession, and Arthur’s nerves ratcheted up yet another notch.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, Merlin seems to be feeling... remarkably tired right now. Can barely get a word out of him, and didn’t want to find him to fall down the stairs in his daze. He’s clumsy enough on a normal evening.”

“Indeed,” Gaius agreed neutrally, seemingly deciding to let it go. “Well, in that case, I thank you, Sire, for your kind concern. I think I can take him from here—”

“No!” Arthur exclaimed, too loudly.

Gaius halted, looking at him expectantly.

Suddenly struck with a horrible guilty conscious—which was ridiculous, because Arthur hadn’t even done anything to warrant it!—he couldn’t imagine anything worse than Merlin spontaneously regaining his speech and telling the physician about the botched kiss.

It was equally distressing as the case where Merlin didn’t snap out of his strange stupor and was therefore unable to tell Gaius that Arthur, in fact, was not responsible for permanently brain damaging his ward, and thus resulting in Gaius drawing the wrong conclusion and finding some way to seek righteous retribution.

Of course, Arthur was guilty of pretending to be in love with his best friend, but there were some things best left unsaid.

“That is- I only meant, it’s no extra trouble,” Arthur said with a forced smile, sweat trickling down his neck.

“I’m sure Merlin appreciates it, my Lord,” Gaius said eventually, apparently deciding not to press the point. Arthur gave an internal sigh of relief.

With one last winning smile to Gaius, he dragged Merlin back to his room, and managed to dump him onto his bed. He even generously tucked Merlin under his covers, before stepping back and giving himself an approving nod at his handiwork.

“Well then, goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur bid quietly, when there was nothing left to do. He quickly removed himself from Merlin’s room, pulling the door softly closed.

Then, faintly from the other side of the door, there was a feeble, “Goodnight, Arthur?” and Arthur face drew into a relieved smile, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, as he counted the evening as a success after all.

By the time he fell asleep himself, he still hadn’t managed to stop smiling.

ooo

Arthur was in his chambers when a knock sounded on his doors.

“Come in,” he called out.

The door opened to reveal Guinevere, who quickly dropped into a polite, apologetic bow at interrupting his evening. He stepped forward to meet her.

“My Lord,” Guinevere greeted with an uncertain waver in her voice, “May I speak with you?” Despite her tone, however, there was something resolute in her eyes which made Arthur unable to deny her request – not that he ever would. He always appreciated Gwen’s presence.

Gwen slipped inside. She let the doors shut behind her to preserve their privacy before continuing, straight to the point.

“Merlin let slip,” Gwen murmured apologetically. Arthur stared blankly back. “About your confession,” she clarified.

“Oh.” There was a sudden desire to deny her words, because knowing Merlin, he probably painted Arthur as a lovesick fool. But then, staring into Gwen’s concerned eyes, and recalling the conversation they shared previously, Arthur gave a stiff nod instead.  “It’s working out fine. You were right to assume he would forgive me if I confess,” he added, just in case Merlin gave her crazy ideas about Arthur’s supposed confession.

Guinevere’s response was a soft, “Did you mean it?”

“He’s Merlin,” Arthur said, as though that explained everything. As far as Arthur was concerned, it did. Guinevere, on the other hand, only scrunched her brows together in a worried frown, fingers pulling anxiously around the loose edge of her dress. “Merlin’s finally forgiven me,” Arthur continued blithely, refusing to let Gwen’s reaction throw him into agitation. “Do you have any idea how dull it was with him like … that? ”

Gwen’s lips pulled into a strict, disapproving line. Even so, she lowered her head as she spoke, well aware she was talking to the Prince of Camelot.

“Arthur, don’t you think you’re going too far? I thought you understood.”

“It’s just a little lie,” Arthur defended immediately, hating the unease her words struck in him. “I’m not hurting him.”

If anything, it was the opposite. And while it was true that, as Gwen previously alluded, misleading Merlin with false affection was dishonourable, it was only Arthur who could be accused of this dishonourable act, not Merlin. Merlin’s honour remained intact.

Nevertheless, Gwen didn’t look pleased.

“You can’t play with someone’s feelings like that,” she admonished sharply, feelings wrapped so tightly onto her every word that Arthur couldn’t look away. “Loving someone isn’t an idle thing. It affects the heart in a way nothing else can compare. Lies and false hope may seem harmless at first, but they will bring nothing but devastation when the truth is revealed. It’s a cruel thing to do.” She bit her lip. “My Lord,” she tacked on belatedly, after a pause.

“You think I should retract my confession?”

“It would be for the best,” she agreed.

Arthur could understand Guinevere’s concern, but things were working out wonderfully with Merlin. How could he be called cruel if Merlin seemed to be enjoying himself as well, offering Arthur cheery grins each and every day?

“It can’t be that bad. He’s finally forgiven me.”

“Because of a lie,” Gwen argued, her dark curls quivering with verve. “Merlin deserves to be truly loved, and not just for your own gain.” The handmaiden shook her head, fixing a remorseful look on Arthur. “This is deception.”

“Then I won’t let him find out.”

“Be realistic, Arthur,” Gwen pleaded. “Lies cannot last forever. If Merlin were to find out, you’ll suffer more than just his temper. You need to fix this before it gets worse.”

Gradually, a frown marred his face as Gwen’s words sunk in.  He was sure Gwen had mentioned this before, but somehow, only now, did the consequence really sink in. Because now that he had Merlin closer than ever, the idea of possibility of losing him carried a much heavier feeling in his heart than ever before.

“Please understand,” she continued, looking imploringly at him. “It’s not just Merlin I’m worried about. If he doesn’t forgive you…” The words hesitated on her lips. “I don’t want you to hurt as well.”

Arthur deflated at her words. “I understand,” he replied at last. “I do, Guinevere. Thank you.”

She held silent, waiting for him to continue.

Arthur let out a sigh.

He finally did understand, but what she wanted him to do was impossible; it was too late now. It was Merlin’s fault, doubting his confession to the point where Arthur had no choice but to promise his sincerity, and then do so much to prove it. How could he retract all the courting he’d done?

“I understand,” Arthur carried on, “but I still can’t. I can’t take back my word.”

“You intend on continuing to give Merlin false hope?”

“It’s not false if he doesn’t find out. Turning back is impossible at this point, not after all I’ve done,” he argued back with a hint of asperity in his voice.

“How long do you plan to keep this up?”

Arthur could hear the disappointment in Gwen’s frustrated tone, yet he had no answer for her. “ Forever ,” is what he wanted to say, but Gwen wouldn’t like the answer, and to be honest, was it even possible? He knew he shouldn’t keep lying to Merlin, but he also couldn’t retract his confession.

He sighed, deciding to put off the choice; he’ll dwell on deciding how to best handle the situation tomorrow.

Chapter Text

For no reason Arthur could discern, the manservant was in a mood once more. Over the past months, slowly but surely, Merlin had mellowed from the cautious manner he'd been treating Arthur, to the point where the prince was certain he'd even been accepting his advances on occasions.

Arthur had grown accustomed to the lopsided grins that crept onto Merlin's face more and more frequently as of late. It just seemed to make the day so much brighter. He found himself returning it rather dopily once, before catching himself and correcting it to something more regal.

Unexpectedly, tentatively, Arthur even found himself warming up to the feasibility of indefinitely continuing these false affections.

But then, just when Arthur thought things were settling into a familiar pattern, it spiralled out of his control once more.

Suddenly, Merlin had returned to his previous attitude: short, tense, snappy, and so polite Arthur internally cringed every time Merlin spoke to him.

Arthur couldn't see what the problem was. He'd done nothing wrong as of late. He'd been courting Merlin in a manner expected of someone his standing, and he'd even been willing to do things beneath his rank. He'd been unquestionably considerate, so it couldn't have been his fault. He'd made none of the mistakes he'd made with Gwen.

Certainly, this was Merlin being purposely obtuse, the idiot.

Still, the last time Merlin had been so moody, Arthur had successfully charmed his manservant out of it. Relapse or not, he saw no reason why this time should be any different. He quickly acted on his new plan, so as not to give Merlin any time to simmer.

He insisted that Merlin meet him on the training field after the knight's practice, in order to spend more time with him.

It hadn't taken Arthur long to win Merlin over with his wooing previously, and he had quickly observed that the longer Merlin spent around him, the more flustered Merlin would become. Arthur's gentlemanly presence seemed to encourage a certain gracelessness in Merlin, causing the manservant to become even more clumsy than usual. It was unexpectedly endearing to watch. Not to mention, much more acceptable than Merlin's current expression.

It was a surefire way to rid Merlin of that surly face.

"Ah, Merlin," Arthur called out when his manservant finally arrived, crossing the training field to where he stood by his fellow knights.

"Sire," Merlin said courtly. "I've come as you asked. What is it you require?"

The manservant stood demurely in front of Arthur, hands clasped behind his back, as expected of servants, all formality and nothing intimate like Arthur had come to expect.

Arthur winced at the prim words. It sounded so unnatural coming from Merlin's mouth.

"Good," he said, trying to pull a semblance of normality into the conversation. Arthur made sure his tone was teasing. "I thought you might have gotten lost on the way." Although he'd been uncharacteristically nice to Merlin these past months, he'd never had the heart to stop their bantering. He knew Merlin enjoyed it, anyway.

"I apologize, Sire," Merlin replied with a bow.

But not anymore, it seemed.

Arthur held back an exasperated sigh, keeping his irritation from showing. He was supposed to be nice, considerate, and understanding – Merlin seemed to like those traits. Maybe. Possibly. Merlin never did answer what he liked about Arthur, so he could do little else but guess.

"It's fine Merlin, just …" Arthur waved his hand in the air, finding himself at a loss for words. He had mocking taunts at the ready, but there was no point if Merlin planned to ignore all the cues.

Merlin stared flatly at him.

"What was it that you required, Sire?" he asked, tone dry.

What was Arthur supposed to say? He required Merlin to spend time with him, so that he would gush at Arthur's thoughtfulness, and realize that he was being unreasonably irritating with this new attitude.

"I require your … presence," he answered as officially as he could.

"And here I am," Merlin said. He waited. When nothing was forthcoming, he asked tersely, "Was there anything else?"

Arthur rubbed the side of his neck, eyes cast over the field, trying to think of an excuse. In the end, he replied with a reluctant, "No."

Immediately, Merlin dipped his head into a bow. "Then if you'll excuse me, Sire, I need to prepare your lunch."

Arthur perked at the words.

"Let's go together," Arthur said, grasping at the chance.

Merlin only gave him a bland look. "I wouldn't wish to impose on your precious time, Sire. It will be laid out for you when you reach your chambers." He bowed once more. "Now if you'll excuse me."

In an instant, Merlin was gone, halfway across the field before Arthur even noticed. It was like the manservant couldn't stand being in his presence for even a second more than necessary. Of course, that was ridiculous; Arthur had done nothing to deserve that kind of reaction.

There was nothing to do but stare—somewhat forlornly—after Merlin.

"What's wrong with him?" Arthur finally allowed himself to wonder aloud, actively trying to stop himself from groaning the words. "What's got him all up in arms like that?"

Even though practice was over, a few knights still lingered on the field, either cooling down or taking it upon themselves to do extra training. So it came as little surprise that someone overheard Arthur's question.

"Like what, my Lord?" Sir Bedivere asked from where he was taking gulps from his waterskin.

Arthur spared him a glance before staring back towards where Merlin had disappeared off to. "Like … that," he muttered, waving his hand in front of him as if it could convey everything.

Sir Bedivere blinked cluelessly. "He was a most proper servant, my Lord. Very diligent."

"Exactly," Arthur exclaimed. He shot a disgruntled look at the uncomprehending knight before he sought out one who would understand. Sir Leon stood a little further off, but Arthur could tell a conversation with him would be much more productive. He was staring much like Arthur had, confusion and disbelief on his face.

Leon slowly made his way over.

"Was that Merlin?" he asked, troubled. If it weren't for the fact Merlin's attitude was so unusual, Arthur wouldn't have bothered to answer that obvious question. Instead he cringed and nodded.

"Is there a dispute between the two of you, Sire?" Leon asked carefully.

Arthur resisted the urge to throw his arms up in exasperation, because even though he'd grown up with Leon, it still did not bequeath him to behave in such an unprincely manner.

"How should I know?" he tensely muttered instead. He ran a hand across his face. "Merlin never makes sense."

"It is rather odd to see him so deferential."

Sir Bedivere looked between Arthur and Leon in bewilderment. Although Merlin was friendly to all, there were still some who only saw him from afar and knew him as nothing more than 'The prince's personal manservant'. Not to mention Bedivere was only a recent addition to Arthur's knights.

Never knowing Merlin's true personality in the first place, Sir Bedivere clearly proved unable to follow the conversation.

Leon took pity on the knight.

"Merlin," the man began, trying to find the proper words without needing to go into detail about the Prince and servant's unnatural relationship, "is a capable servant, but has his own … quirks. He doesn't normally act like that."

"If that's the case, then should my Lord only insist, he would act however you wish him to," Sir Bedivere offered his advice to Arthur, still obviously yet to grasp the problem. "He is a servant. He will obey your orders."

That, Arthur thought, was the least helpful advice he heard all day. Arthur wanted Merlin to not act however Arthur wished. He wanted the actual Merlin who was insolent and irritatingly cheeky.

He wanted the Merlin who was the worst manservant ever – the one who listened to Arthur only half the time and obeyed his orders even less. That Merlin had his instances of obedience, of course. Arthur wouldn't say it was pleading, but if he asked persistently enough, Merlin often relented, recognising Arthur's stubbornness and knowing that he could either concede or be forever nagged about it.

Arthur froze suddenly at that thought. Abruptly, an appalling realisation formed.

Merlin would obey if Arthur pressed him long enough. That was true. That had been proven multiple times before.

Scenes from the last few months flickered before his eyes, each one making Arthur dread a little more as it provided additional insight. Arthur recalled his persistent asseverations of love and his numerous attempts to curry favor, all to force Merlin's acceptance to his proclamations. He'd tried again and again, regardless of the results, because he was certain that Merlin was only being shy and he would accept it in the end.

But now, with his sudden realisation in mind, Arthur was suddenly struck with the possibility that Merlin had only played along because of his role as servant.

But no, that couldn't be it; Merlin loved him. That was what had started the whole mess. Merlin was hopelessly in love with him but refused to admit it because he was so horrified at having his feelings found out.

…wasn't he?

For a second time that day, Arthur froze in his tracks, a new realisation barreling him over.

His breath left him in a deep gasp; Merlin had never once said he loved Arthur this whole time. It had only been Arthur who'd uttered the words, never Merlin.

Did that mean Merlin actually didn't love him?

Arthur wandered back to the castle, dazed, mind cast back to the previous months. He tried futilely to remember any instances where Merlin explicitly reciprocated his attentions, but drew up blank.

The thought triggered a new idea, equally worrying; what if Merlin genuinely thought Arthur was the one in love?

Merlin hadn't stopped Arthur from courting him, but he hadn't encouraged it either. Now that Arthur thought about it, Merlin had been watching him carefully the whole time, scrutinizing his every effort with a wary eye.

Was this because Merlin had been searching for cues from Arthur in order to act accordingly? Merlin would do just about anything for him, Arthur knew that. Did his loyalty stretch so far as to include feigning affection for his master's sake?

But then why the sudden change in attitude; why was he suddenly so petulant?

Arthur made his way into his chambers. On the table was his promised lunch, still warm from the kitchen. Merlin stood to the corner of the room, waiting for Arthur's arrival.

"Merlin," Arthur greeted, feeling relief at the sight of his manservant.

He didn't know why but he'd been worried Merlin would escape after leaving the food in his chambers. Seeing him here, though, waiting, even when the prince hadn't told him to, Arthur wondered if perhaps Merlin had finally realised he'd been overreacting by unwarrantedly giving him the cold shoulder.

Upon his approach, Arthur anticipated Merlin to re-adopt his usual meaningless prattling, with maybe an apology or two. Instead his servant reached for the buckle of his armour.

His armour. Merlin was here for his armour. Something in him wilted at the realisation.

Merlin was silent as he worked to pull off the heavy metal plates and chainmail, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to fill the silence – mostly because he didn't know what to say. It seemed as though Merlin could be quick and efficient if he put his mind to it, because it took only half the time it normally did to undress him. Not enough for Arthur to think of a topic.

Then, the moment Arthur was slipped into his tunic and everyday wear, Merlin swept off, whisking the bundle of armour into his arms and heading out with a jerky bow.

Arthur couldn't have that.

"Merlin," he called out. Merlin's pace faltered into a stop, but he didn't turn around, staring resolutely at the closed door in front of him. "Where are you going?"

"I have your armour to polish, Sire."

Striding to the table, Arthur patted his chair emphatically. "Sit."

"And I still have yet to muck the stables," Merlin insisted, still refusing to budge.

"Sit."

"And your laundry-"

"Sit. That's an order," Arthur demanded. Why was it that even when Merlin attempted to be a proper, boring servant, he could still be a pain? "Surely you can leave those for later. When have you ever been that efficient?" he sniped.

There was a paused before Merlin slowly, reluctantly, turned around. His movements were tense as though he was forcing himself to move.

"I live to serve," Merlin intoned, finally dropping into the chair. The armful of armour dropped on the table in front of him with a hefty clang.

Arthur leaned on the tabletop, shifting his weight until he was half-sitting on it. He picked idly at his food, appearing interested in each article of his lunch, but really, his whole attention was focused on Merlin.

Merlin was livid. Arthur could see it in his posture and the hard lines of his face. But the clearest confirmation was from his belligerent glare. The brewing storm in Merlin's eyes darkened any hopes Arthur had of resolving the issue between them.

Had the act of pretending to love Arthur really been so abhorrent? Had it caused Merlin's aggravation to accumulate so strongly that it finally could no longer be contained and materialised so obviously to the world? The thought sent a jabbing pain through Arthur's chest.

And he hadn't even noticed Merlin's act up until now. Merlin couldn't act - Arthur used to be certain of this fact. Now he wasn't so sure. Arthur used to think that even if the whole world betrayed him, Merlin was the one constant he could always trust, but now he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Forget love; had Merlin ever even liked him, or had he been lying blatantly to Arthur from day one? Were they even friends?

Arthur couldn't help but remember the first day they met. He'd belittled him, almost killed him, threw him into the cells, and then the stocks, all within the first couple days.

Merlin hadn't even asked to be Arthur's manservant; it was a job thrusted to him by his father in a manner Merlin couldn't refuse. He was stuck doing the chores for a person who'd tried to humiliate him the moment they'd encountered each other.

Even the most forgiving man would likely hold a grudge. Arthur had to wonder if Merlin's hate for him had been building since then.

He must have finally crossed the line recently, for Merlin to spoil his years of acting without another thought. Casting his mind back to his most recent exploits, Arthur finally recalled the likely culprit.

He still clearly remembered the catatonic state he'd reduced Merlin into when he'd impulsively pulled his manservant into a kiss. Later on, Arthur had assured himself that Merlin's condition had been due to becoming overwhelmed with shock and joy, rendering him unable to form a proper reaction.

Arthur had been so pleased at himself, thinking he was finally succeeding his attempts to court Merlin.

Now it was obvious he'd pushed Merlin too far.

Arthur felt nauseous at the thought. He clenched a grape in his hands, staring mindlessly at the dripping mess, unable to stomach another bite of his food.

In a fit, he shoved his lunch from the table with a solid push. Even the sound of the platter crashing into the floor, which should have been loud enough to shake his mind free from the ensnaring truth, didn't do as desired.

It was Merlin's voice that jolted him, startling him to laboured breaths. He'd completely forgotten Merlin's presence.

"More work for me to do, Sire?" Merlin asked dryly, pulling himself up from the chair.

Arthur's eyes lowered onto the soiled lunch, before snapping upwards to lock on the manservant. Merlin's lips were pulled in a thin line, stretched so tightly like he was forcing himself not to make a retort he would regret. It wasn't the first time Merlin had done this either, and Arthur cursed himself for being so blind.

Mouth open, uncertain of what to say to convince Merlin it wasn't on purpose, Arthur wondered once again why it was so difficult to accept his sudden revelation. If he'd been inadvertently doing these kinds of things to Merlin all this time, it was no wonder he would hate him.

"No," Arthur said quickly, pulling Merlin up from where he was kneeling, where his hands were already sweeping the food. "I'll get someone else to take care of that."

Merlin stared warily at him but abandoned the task as requested.

"Well, er," Arthur floundered for something to say. He grabbed the discarded armour from the table, all but shoving it into Merlin's unsuspecting arms. "Here. Polish this. I'm sure you have plenty to do," he rambled, eager to send the manservant off so he could wallow in his grief in private.

It almost hurt how little work it took to get Merlin to scamper off. If anything, Merlin looked glad to get away from Arthur.

Arthur buried his face into his hands at the undeniable proof.

He'd always noticed something about Merlin, but had never been able to place his finger on it. It seemed in his dream-riddled haze he'd managed to grasp at it – incorrectly, but close enough. Unconsciously, it seemed, he noticed the crucial detail that finally allowed him to see Merlin's true character; the detail that Merlin had hidden so deeply beneath his grins and endless chattering.

The only problem was that, since he was half-sleep, he'd guess the complete opposite.

Arthur had asked the wrong question. Rather than 'Do you love me?', it would've been quicker to ask 'Do you despise me?'. Then, perhaps, he would've gotten the affirmative answer he'd expected.

Arthur was sat in an alcove of the courtyard when Gwen came up to him. He'd hidden himself in the shadows, in a secluded corner, back pressing against stone arches for comfort. He had been easily overlooked by passersby, who would never expect to find the prince shying away from attention in a fit of self-pity. Gwen, however, knew Arthur better than most, and noticed him immediately.

"Arthur?" she called out to him, worry in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur forced a smile, but Gwen looked utterly unconvinced.

She eyed him cautiously before focusing on the prince's attire. "Should I fetch you your cloak, my Lord? The courtyard can be chilly this time of the year." There was no answer so Gwen continued on, "Or perhaps I can call Merlin to-"

"No," he blurted out, before he could censor himself. He bit his lip. "Not Merlin."

He groaned as thoughts of his manservant spiraled his mind once more.

Gwen was understandably confused. "Did something happen again? I noticed Merlin seemed a little irritated, but surely it's not something that can't be sorted. Whatever you've done, Merlin-"

"Merlin hates me," Arthur blurted out, refusing to listen to Gwen wax poems about the leniency and virtue of his manservant. Not when it was so obvious Arthur was the exception to Merlin's otherwise compassionate nature.

"That's nonsense," Gwen declared incredulously, staring worriedly at Arthur. "There's no reason Merlin would hate you,"

Arthur sent her a smile that was more of a grimace. The handmaiden shook her head.

"But Arthur, didn't you say that Merlin loved you, earlier?" Gwen pushed on. The unchanging expression on Arthur made her falter for a second, but she carried on determinately. "You were convinced Merlin was in love with you. Certainly you trust your own judgement."

Arthur's teeth grinded together. It hurt him to admit it, especially out loud, but Guinevere deserved to know the whole story. She'd been diligently advising him so far.

"I was wrong."

"Oh," Gwen murmured sympathetically, not necessarily a sound of agreement, but at least she finally seemed to grasp the severity of the situation. "What happened now?"

"I was so blind," Arthur said, staring blankly at his feet. "I thought I'd given him an opportunity to finally express his love to me, but it turned out he'd only been doing it for my sake."

Gwen blinked.

"He doesn't love me, but thought I loved him," Arthur clarified.

Gwen blinked again, eyebrows furrowed this time, like she couldn't fathom the words he was telling her. Arthur didn't understand why it was so hard to comprehend.

"Well," Gwen began slowly, carefully, "if you think Merlin actually doesn't love you, and you actually don't love Merlin, then isn't this a good time to tell him the truth about your confession?"

Arthur's heart leaped at the thought.

"I can't."

"I realised you had set it upon yourself to hold this deception forever, but clearly there is no more need for it if Merlin truly has no affections towards you, Sire," Gwen pointed out reasonably. "Merlin will understand if you explain the reasoning behind your actions."

"I can't," Arthur insisted. "You don't understand. Merlin hates me."

"I'm certain Merlin doesn't-"

"He does," Arthur stressed, as much as he hated the thought himself. Spending all evening trying to deny the words hadn't made things easier.

Arthur slid down the stone wall, back scraping across the jagged edges through his tunic. He ended up crouched at the foot, curled in miserably on himself.

There was no possibility Arthur would ever retract his words. Not anymore. Right now Arthur's 'love' was the only link holding Merlin and him together. Without it, there was no connection; without it, there would only be hatred left, and it was too easy for that hatred to sever their ties.

A cold chill, capable of taking away even the warmth of his beating heart, fell over his body at the thought of that loss. It was like the cold that spread through those of the dead - and wasn't that just telling? Death was comparable to a life without Merlin, and Arthur couldn't bear to imagine it.

He couldn't give Merlin more reason to hate him.

He couldn't give Merlin more reason to leave.

Arthur lowered his face into the crook of his arm, speaking muffled words, more to himself than Guinevere.

"I can't lose him. I don't care if the truth is that he hates me. I can't," Arthur said, and maybe the crack in his voice wasn't only imagined, but Arthur found himself unable to care enough to deny it.

Standing above him, he never noticed the way Gwen's eyes widen at his confession, drawing a conclusion that he himself had still yet to realise.

Guinevere was a perceptive woman. She'd spent years as a handmaiden, observing others unseen and unheard, as was expected of servants. She'd seen drama unfold in the castle, and had been privy to the love affairs of those residing.

It wasn't difficult to see the budding relationship between Arthur and Merlin. Gwen saw the way the two acted together when no one else was around. Merlin was a private person, but if one took the time, he was easy enough to read. Especially by his friends - except Arthur, Gwen supposed, but he was a Pendragon, emotionally repressed and ignorant, since things such as 'feelings' were a sign of weakness. She couldn't blame him. Much.

In the beginning, admittedly, Gwen never noticed either, too blinded by Merlin's presence, and then Arthur's. After Arthur had told her that Uther would never approve a relationship between them, she'd kept her love for Arthur to herself, quietly trying to suppress her feelings. It was only because of Merlin, so understanding and encouraging, that Arthur had even tried to pursue her, regardless of social class. It had only been because of Merlin that she'd accepted those advances. It had been Merlin's belief in her that had given her confidence.

Only after elevating Merlin to the rank of best friend, and subsequently noticing the man behind the clumsy demeanour, that she'd finally realised. Now, she caught so many little instances between Arthur and Merlin that she didn't know how she'd missed them in the first place.

She could see the soft glances and shy smiles that Merlin sent to Arthur as they carried on through the day. Always following half a step behind his master, the prince never saw it. Gwen, however, caught it every time she walked past the two.

It took Gwen too long to recognise that Merlin was much too considerate. If Gwen knew anything about Merlin, it was that he prioritised everyone else before himself. Despite being enamoured with Arthur himself, Merlin had never failed to support her. And perhaps he would never do anything else but support if Gwen didn't intervene.

All Merlin needed to do was ask, and she would willingly return the favour, and aid Merlin the best she could. However, Merlin never did, and for the longest time, Gwen only had her suspicions of Merlin's affections and no excuse to act on them, lest she seemed intrusive.

But by now, Gwen knew that if she didn't take matters into her own hands, Merlin would never find happiness, too ready to give it away to someone else instead.

She'd overlooked the matter for a long time, but finally she couldn't avoid it any longer - not with Arthur's and Merlin's fight ruining years of friendship between them. Even worse now that Arthur undeniably loved Merlin back, and that it wasn't simply an ill-thought scheme.

It'd saddened Gwen to accept that Arthur would never be anything more than a friend to her, but she also recognised that their relationship would never match whatever he and Merlin had. She cared deeply for them both, and resolved to never ruin such a love story because of something so petty as jealousy.

Merlin loved Arthur, and it was apparent Arthur loved Merlin back. Now, the only problem was a misunderstanding that Arthur had most likely caused; as their friend, Gwen took it upon herself to aid their reconciliation. Their happiness was her happiness.

And so, with those thoughts, Gwen found herself currently dithering before Merlin's room at the back of Gaius's chambers, hesitant to enter. The thought that Gaius could be back at any minute spurred her on, and so she raised a fist to knock lightly on the door.

She pushed it open at Merlin's call.

"Merlin?" she greeted tentatively.

Sprawled out on his bed, he sat up straighter upon her entrance.

"Gwen," he exclaimed, before noticing the cautious look on her face. "What's wrong?"

The manservant had a rag in his hands, and a piece of Arthur's armour in this lap, busy at work. Her determination faltered.

Merlin blinked up at her, worry blatantly showing every minute she held her silence. With a purposeful breath Gwen quickly pushed on. "Sorry, I was wondering if you had a moment."

Merlin studied her for a second before answering.

"I'm just polishing Arthur's armour," he finally said. There was a grimace as Arthur's name passed his lips. "It can wait."

"Oh, no, please don't stop on my account. We can talk while you polish," Gwen said. If anything, she preferred to talk without Merlin's eyes boring into her. She rambled at the best of times, and it only worsened when she was nervous - she didn't want to give away something she didn't intend to.

Merlin, oblivious to her thoughts, cast a dark look at the metal plated armour instead. She felt uneasy at the sight, because no matter how much Arthur and Merlin might argue and insult one another, their fights never lasted long, and Merlin always forgave him in the end. Arthur must have hurt Merlin badly, for him to still show so much disdain at the mere mention of his name.

"He deserves to have rusty armour," Merlin muttered under his breath. Even so, Merlin's hands moved religiously, polishing thoroughly.

Gwen watched him work, eyes softening at the sight. No matter what he said, Merlin would never allow Arthur's armour to rust and fail on him. Merlin could complain about Arthur, could hate Arthur, but in the end, he looked after his prince, even if it gave him no pleasure to do so.

And while Merlin often vocalised his complaints, this time differed from usual, because his words held no humorous undertone, and his eyes utterly lacked their mischievous sparkle. Only cynicism remained.

What had Arthur done, and why hadn't she tried harder to stop him when she'd spoken with him? Guilt squirmed in Gwen stomach, knowing she was at least partly to blame for Merlin's acrimony.

"I know it isn't my business. I won't interfere if you ask me not to, but I'm worried," Gwen said softly, moving towards the bed. She took a tentative seat beside Merlin, who'd all but abandoned his duties by now and had his hands clenched into fists on his lap. "You and Arthur are wonderful friends, even if he won't admit it. I know better than anyone Arthur can be oblivious at times, but he really does care about you. Whatever he's done, remember he cares."

When Merlin finally looked up at her, his expression was nothing she expected.

There was a tight smile on his face that carried no cheer. It was forced on like the painted face of a jester. "Does he?" Merlin retorted, trying—and failing—to speak the words lightly. They prickled sharply instead.

Startled, the word dropped out before Gwen could think. "What?"

"Does he really care, or is he just having fun at my expense? It doesn't matter to him if he lies to me, does it? I'm just a servant. Just stupid Merlin, who cares how I feel. He has plenty of other people to serve him," Merlin spat venomously. Then he seemed to catch himself and lower his head in a silent apology for directing his tone at Gwen.

Gwen's eyes widened. Surely Arthur wasn't so horrible as to deserve this much resentment? She had no idea how things had gotten this way, when just weeks ago Arthur and Merlin were getting along better than ever.

"That's not true. Merlin, please," Gwen said, urging him to see sense.

Merlin only shook his head. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but don't lie for my sake."

Gwen tried to make sense of Merlin's self-deprecation, but she remained clueless despite her best efforts. Then, Merlin he spoke up once more, and she finally understood.

"I- I heard," Merlin confessed lowly, the words thick. Merlin trundled through the simple words so reluctantly, Gwen could tell Merlin had been actively avoiding to think about it for a while now. Now spoken, however, he had no choice but to accept them, and if anything, it only made Merlin grow more bitter.

Dread filled Gwen.

"What did you hear?" she asked, helplessly praying she was wrong.

Merlin's eyes were filled with wrath.

"Arthur was playing with me," he said acerbically, torn between self-deprecating and mocking. "With my 'feelings'."

"Oh no," Gwen whispered. Arthur would never talk about his deception with anyone, and he hadn't even with Gwen until she'd brought it up and pressed him. There was only one time Merlin could've have overheard that. "Oh, Merlin, what did you hear?"

She hadn't meant for her question to be answered, breathing the words almost unconsciously in her dismay, but Merlin heard and did so anyways.

"I heard everything I needed to," he said in an agonizingly controlled voice, "when you confronted Arthur, on my behalf. You're a good friend."

Merlin gave a grateful nod to Gwen that she didn't feel she deserved. Then, he let out a long sigh, air escaping him until he hunched in place, looking defeated.

His next words were so quiet Gwen knew they hadn't been intended for her ears, but she heard them nevertheless. "I just- I thought I could trust him."

If a confrontation with Arthur was all Gwen had done, maybe she wouldn't feel so guilty. But she'd been the one who'd put that ridiculous notion of a fake romance in his mind; the idea that had started this whole mess in the first place.

Gwen tried to remember the exact words that had been exchanged, but couldn't. Had Arthur honestly seemed as cruel as Merlin had perceived?

Perhaps Merlin hadn't heard the whole conversation. Gwen was certain that if it had been the whole thing, he would have heard the unease Arthur felt about his own decision as well. Or perhaps Gwen had only noticed because Arthur had been right in front of her. They'd been in Arthur's chambers at the time, and it was possible his sturdy wooden door had filtered the heaviness out of Arthur's voice until it was indistinguishable to Merlin outside.

"It may not be my place to say, but Arthur-" Gwen began.

"No." Gwen startled at the harshness in Merlin's voice, and even Merlin himself seemed a little taken aback. Nevertheless, Merlin composed himself, shaking his head. "Please. I don't- I can't."

"What can Arthur do to make it up to you?" Gwen questioned pleadingly.

Merlin gave a bitter, hollow laugh. "He'd had plenty of chances, but he chose to continue lying."

Merlin looked away, fingers reaching for his polish rag. He pulled the armour closer to himself and scrubbed at it for a long quiet minute before shaking his head once more. His words were distant and heavy.

"He's lost my trust."

It had always been undeniable that Arthur held two absolute things of Merlin's. His trust and his loyalty. How long would it take to lose the other if Arthur didn't make things right, and how would it affect both of them?

Gwen didn't want it to come to that.

"Sometimes, when you start telling a lie... The longer you tell it, the harder it is to tell the truth, until you'd rather keep up the facade," she said quietly.

Merlin paused at her words. There was a strange look in his eyes as he regarded her carefully, then he shook his head.

"That doesn't make it all right," he said sharply. His face pinched before continuing quickly, "not in this case."

Something about that last part that seemed so much more significant than Gwen could understand, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it and carried on regardless.

"No," Gwen agreed. "He hurt you. Nevertheless, he does care. He just behaved selfishly and took advantage of your feelings."

Merlin's gaze showed disbelief.

"If he cares about me, how could he lie like that?" Merlin shot back.

"You can care about someone and still lie to them," Gwen pointed out logically, and Merlin's fingers froze, the polishing cloth unmoving. His teeth bit into his lower lip. "In fact, sometimes, the more you care about someone, the harder it can be to tell them the truth."

Merlin didn't say anything, fidgeting with the polish rag. Gwen took the opportunity to press on.

"If he hadn't cared for you at all, he wouldn't have struggled so much to tell you the truth," she insisted. "He would've told you and then laughed at your expense. Yet when I spoke with Arthur, he swore he'd never tell you because he thought it was a betrayal you couldn't forgive."

"Maybe it is," Merlin said, his voice choked. His words sounded oddly heavy, as though the topic held some deeper, greater meaning for him than it did for Gwen. There was conflict in his eyes. "Maybe some betrayals can never be forgiven, no matter how much one cares for the other."

That didn't sound quite right, and Gwen wavered, confused.

"I think," she said slowly. "That you should trust his intentions. If your positions were reversed... if you'd lied to protect something important to you, wouldn't you want Arthur to forgive you? Your friendship is very important to him, Merlin. He wouldn't have lied for any other reason."

Merlin was quiet for a long time, looking more wistful than angry now. Gwen was uncertain if this was a good sign or not. She decided it was best to refrain from disturbing him. She smoothed her skirt, as she rose to her feet, quietly moving to the door in order to let Merlin think things over alone.

Merlin's polishing cloth and armour were laid on the bed, forgotten.

"Gwen?" he said, making her pause before she could reach for the door.

When it became obvious he wouldn't elaborate without encouragement, she prompted with a soft, "Yes?"

"Do you think," he started, before drawing up short. He tried again. "Do you think, if our positions were reversed, that Arthur would forgive me? If I'd lied and betrayed him, but I'd done it to protect him and our friendship... Do you think he'd ever forgive me?"

Gwen's eyes widened, wondering at the implications. Still, she had great faith in Merlin, and decided not to press. Perhaps he'd tell her in his own time. Whatever it was, she was sure that he wouldn't have done anything so terrible that she couldn't forgive.

She couldn't speak for Arthur, but she suspected he'd feel much the same.

"I don't know what could possibly have you so worried," Gwen said gently, "and I can't promise anything. But I can tell you that Arthur does care. Even if he was angry like you are now, I think in the end, he'd want to get through it with you by his side. Just like I think that you'll forgive him now, because you're just as scared of losing him as he is of losing you."

Merlin didn't look like he believed her, slumped as though bearing a weight far too heavy for his lanky shoulders. He looked terribly sad and lost, and the contrast was so great from his normal chipper demeanor, Gwen felt like crying.

"Oh, Merlin," she said, taking a few steps towards him and drawing him into an unplanned hug. She didn't care how improper it was, to hug him like this when they were alone in his room. She knew he wouldn't make any indecent assumptions, and right now, he was a friend who needed comfort, and she'd be damned if she didn't provide it.

"I-" he began, voice cracking and cutting off. He buried his nose in her shoulder. "I don't know what-"

"You don't have to tell me," Gwen said, squeezing him tight. "But I want you to know that you can, if you want, and that you're the best friend I have, and Arthur's too. No matter how poor he is at showing it sometimes."

They stayed like that for a while, Gwen rubbing his shoulder, and Merlin sniffling despondently while Gwen pretended not to notice. He finally quieted, perking up and drawing away when they heard a thump of the front door; Gaius had returned.

Merlin drew away, and Gwen stepped back as well, giving him space to recover. Scrubbing at his cheeks, he avoided her gaze, keeping his head down to allow his hair to cover up his red-rimmed eyes.

"Thank you, Gwen," he said, nevertheless sincere, despite his apparent embarrassment.

"It'll be all right, Merlin," she reassured him softly.

When he nodded, she slipped out the door, uncertain what had happened, but hoped for the best.

Chapter Text

“Gwen,” Morgana said, seemingly out of the blue, “is it just me, or are Arthur and Merlin behaving very... oddly.”

She pulled her lips into a darling smile, playing her part as Uther’s ward and leaving more than one man at the feast staring dazedly in her direction, before turning her gaze to her handmaiden.

Gwen fidgeted guiltily under her stare.

From that alone, she could discern that Gwen knew more about this than she’d shared, and Morgana’s amused smile only grew wider. She turned away again, feigning disinterest in the conversation and giving Gwen a chance to consider her answer. In the meantime, she offered a coy smirk to a passing handsome knight - Sir Cadogan, if memory served.

It was late evening, and she was smiling through the king’s feast, in honour of the recent knighting of Lord Godwyn’s son, Uther’s longtime ally. The arrival of Lord Godwyn was always a cause for celebration, and the knighting of his heir cause for a lavish one.

Naturally Arthur attended, as per Uther’s request-nay-command. The real curiosity at all was the fact that he’d tried to get out of it. He normally enjoyed such feasts, not the least because he could dress Merlin up ridiculously, and tease him in a place where a servant most definitely could not talk back.

Yet to Morgana’s intriguement, and admittedly sadistic delight (and perhaps slightest worry), Arthur looked positively miserable.

He appeared to be trying to catch Merlin’s eye, but instead of a wink, glare, eye-roll, or whatever whimsical reaction the boy typically offered at occasions such as these, his servant stared stonily ahead.

From the looks of it, they appeared to be fighting; or rather, Merlin appeared to be giving Arthur the cold shoulder. It was a grave contrast to the previous week, in which they’d been smiling and whispering and appearing closer than ever.

It presented quite the mystery.

Morgana would admit to more than a little amusement at Arthur’s distress. That, however, didn’t detract from the flicker of anger simmering beneath her mirth at the thought of what Arthur could have possibly done. Merlin was a dear friend and deserved better than Arthur’s pigheaded nonsense. If Merlin was angry, it was likely justified, and depending on how cruel Arthur had been, she might have to pay the prince a visit.

“What did Arthur do this time?” Morgana asked, sending Gwen a glance.

Her handmaiden returned her look, pursing her lips, before sighing. “It’s rather complicated, my Lady,” she told her, topping her glass with wine.

“Sounds fascinating,” Morgana replied, and despite her sincerity, her tone held a slight mocking lilt. Arthur’s predicaments were always interesting, much in the same way as watching a child set fire to his own room might be. Gwen’s lips quirked unwillingly at her insinuation; that was why Morgana liked Gwen, always so perceptive. “Tell me more.”

“Well,” Gwen said slowly, eying the Arthur and Merlin cautiously. She’d been anxiously watching the pair earlier; it had been what originally drew Morgana’s gaze to their table in the first place. “Arthur didn’t take Merin’s feelings on a subject with due consideration, and now Merlin is rather … upset.”

“Arthur has a way of dismissing the feelings of those around them,” Morgana said sourly. The last of her diversion died with a flare of bitterness as she recalled him laughing in the face of her nightmares.

“Well,” Gwen said again, helplessly, but she could say nothing to deny it, so she fell silent once more.

Morgana smirked vindictively, and then urged the conversation along.

“What was it, then? You know I’ll find out if you don’t tell me,” Morgana persisted, and it was true. Gwen knew it too.

She sighed in resignation.

“Arthur might have, um, assumed that Merlin was in love with him, without Merlin ever suggesting such a thing himself,” she said faintly, and just a bit rushed.

Morgana narrowed her eyes. This was sounding more and more familiar by the second; she could still recall the times Arthur had accused her of fabricating her nightmares, and for presuming she only disliked Sophia out of jealousy and a supposed crush on him.

Her rage fluctuated, unconsciously forcing her hand to clench her cup so tightly that it trembled in her grip, and her drink spilled over the rim. With a distinct coldness, she watched as wine dribbled down her wrist in red rivulets, before carefully calming her temper.

“Yes, that would do it,” she agreed darkly, even while she kept a smile plastered on her face for the sake of Uther’s courtiers. At least with Gwen, she could show the smallest bit of what she truly felt.

“Hmm,” Gwen agreed non-committedly, wincing.

“There’s more?” Morgana asked in surprise.

Gwen bit her lip. “It’s not really my place to say, my Lady.”

“Really,” Morgana murmured, portraying nothing but polite regard.

Wiling information out of Gwen had grown more challenging over the years, but she had yet to fail. Any hesitation she’d felt at pressing Gwen for answers had quelled in the onslaught of fury she felt on Merlin’s behalf. Her worry for Arthur faded quickly in the face of the vicious satisfaction she found in his misery, considering this was likely all Arthur’s own fault anyway.

“Well,” Morgana began carefully, slowly forming possible ways to garner the information she wanted. “Merlin doubtlessly has developed a thick skin to deal with Arthur’s thick-headedness, so that alone probably wouldn’t have been enough to get him quite this angry.”

She watched Gwen for clues, smiling beatifically as the girl squirmed. Normally she didn’t enjoy making Gwen so uneasy, not when they’d been friends for such a long time, but Morgana’s desire to know won out, and Gwen knew better than to keep such things from her.

“So he must have humiliated Merlin somehow,” Morgana continued musing out loud, fingers tapping elegantly on her glass. Gwen squirmed some more, but didn’t respond. Morgana pressed steadily on. “Perhaps he called out Merlin’s affections in front of Uther’s court?”

“Arthur wouldn’t do such a thing,” Gwen blurted out, appalled. She then quickly bit her lip, but it was too late; inspiration had struck, and Morgana suddenly knew exactly how to procure her answers.

“I daresay he would,” she declared with faux certainty, even if she felt no such thing in truth. She hadn’t heard any rumors of the like whispered within the castle walls, and she doubted that even Arthur would be so crass. It certainly served to agitate Gwen, however, and that was what she was aiming for. “I daresay he would announce it to all of his knights, so they could all have a merry laugh at poor Merlin’s expense.”

“Arthur didn’t mean to hurt him,” Gwen insisted defensively, before adding a quick, “Excuse me, my Lady,” to fix her tone when she caught Morgana studying her from the corner of her eye.

So whatever it was that Arthur had done, Gwen had forgiven him. Some of Morgana’s anger towards Arthur dulled for her sake, and she supposed the prince did look rather miserable, so perhaps he was already receiving his own form of penance.

“Not at all,” Morgana answered graciously. Despite her calming temper, she maintained a careful level of disgust in her tone to keep up her act. “Arthur rarely means harm, but that doesn’t keep him from being an insensitive, intolerable pillock at the best of times.”

After a deliberate pause, Morgana spoke up again, as if struck by sudden inspiration, continuing her game. “Oh, I know what happened.”

“My Lady?”

“Perhaps Arthur didn’t tell his fellow knights at all,” she continued. She didn’t truly believing her own train of thought herself, but was steadily enjoying the fabrication of the story instead. It was rather amusing, casting Arthur in such a shameful light. “Perhaps a lovely town girl had her sights set on Merlin, but Arthur thoughtfully informed her that she stood no chance, because Merlin was madly in love with his prince. Arthur wouldn’t want her to waste time on an unrequited love, after all.”

“Morgana,” Gwen said, scandalized, looking torn between genuine affront and a desire to laugh.

“Or perhaps,” Morgana continued, her smile dropping a bit, as she reached a surprisingly more plausible deduction. “He thoughtfully assumed it prudent to reject Merlin before he ever confessed, and warned his poor servant not to look above his station. Perhaps he thought he was doing a kindness by telling Merlin that towards a prince, he would never be good for anything but cleaning his boots and mucking his stables.”

“Arthur considers Merlin a very dear friend,” Gwen disagreed, rankled. “He may have said something of the like, but he didn’t mean it. And he only did what he did after that because he wanted Merlin to forgive him, but now Merlin’s misunderstood and thinks that the fact that he did what he did only proves that he didn’t-”

“How would Merlin know that he did what he did did prove otherwise if Arthur said what he did before?” Morgana followed the nonsense with ease; she had to listen to Uther’s imbecilic advisors pander about all day, and Gwen’s rambling was nothing if not an improvement.

“Even Arthur wouldn’t confess his love just to mock someone!”

Morgana paused, turning to look at her maidservant with wide eyes.

Gwen clapped her hands over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that,” Gwen said weakly.

Morgana would have smiled in victory, if she hadn’t felt so shocked.

“Arthur confessed his love for Merlin?” she reiterated, a little too loudly.

A passing noble sent her an odd look, but thankfully, he appeared too drunk to be of any real concern. He was likely to forgot the whole evening by the morn.

Gwen shushed her as subtly as she could.

Looking around, checking for eavesdroppers, she whispered, “Oh, you mustn’t tell. I wanted to tell you, but it’s all my fault, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Your fault?” Morgana asked, and to her dismay, she saw Gwen looked close to tears. She felt a surge of compassion for her friend, and the last of her anger finally trickled away. Whatever had happened, it seemed that all participants had already suffered plenty.

Except perhaps Arthur. He could suffer just a little bit more; Morgana wouldn’t mind.

The evening was drawing to a close, most of the guests turning in for the night or too drunk to pay her any mind. With a concerned expression, she hooked elbows with Gwen, and led her towards the door so that they could head back to her chambers.

It reminded her of old times, back when she and Gwen had been closer. She’d missed this more than she’d like to admit. Perhaps it was an opportunity to regain the closeness they’d shared.

She walked with Gwen, ignoring the look Uther sent her for the impropriety of walking arm in arm with a servant. No one else saw them anyway, and even if they did, as far as she was concerned, they could go jump in a lake.

“Tell me everything,” Morgana demanded.

And much to her satisfaction, Guinevere did.

ooo

Morgana ran her brush softly through her hair; she’d always enjoyed the soothing motions, no matter how much Arthur mocked her for it. Trailing down her shoulders, her dark locks were more flat and defined than Gwen’s pretty curls, but still simple to brush on her own.

Her maidservant had yet to return, still out finishing her chores for the morning, and although Morgana would have appreciated the company, especially given their recently reestablished rapport, she also appreciated the time to think. She stared into the mirror, meeting her own gaze, as if searching her expression for some sort of sign.

Morgana would admit—or rather, she wouldn’t—to the smallest bit of jealousy, when she found out that Arthur loved Merlin. Not so much because she cared for Arthur himself; no, she pitied whatever poor fool who ended up stuck with that foolhardy oaf. Rather, she was jealous he’d found “the right person to love”, when she’d still yet to find her own.

She didn’t even truly wish for a romance. It simply infuriated her, the knowledge that Uther would likely sell her off, like a piece of cattle, to secure some political alliance. It fueled her ever-growing hatred for him; the hatred that conflicted so greatly with her love for the king, and yet grew even more because of that love.

She hated that she still had affection in her heart for the man who’d killed so many of her kind.

Yet, by that logic, she had no right to be jealous of Merlin. She owed him. She wouldn’t have even known that she belonged to her kind, if not for Merlin’s bravery in showing her to the druids.

With time to sort her thoughts, any jealousy of Arthur and Merlin finding solace in each other quickly diminished. Not gone, but eased from a flame to a soft ember.

Morgana snorted humorlessly. In all honesty, she should pity the two. A servant and a prince, and both men at that. They had less hope of being together than Morgana did of choosing her own husband.

And she should certainly pity Merlin, for being in love with that insufferable, brainless lump of muscle.

But then, Arthur couldn’t really help being brainless, so maybe she should pity him as well, for making a right mess of the situation because he could manage little else.

So perhaps Merlin and Arthur weren’t destined to be together, or to unite Albion, or any of those typical grand romances of the age. But at the very least, they might find comfort with each other in the shadows, instead of moping around the halls and pining after one another.

Let it never be said that Morgana didn’t help her friends.

She could put aside her dark thoughts, and ensure that they found this little bit of happiness, at the very least. It was the least she could do for Merlin after he’d helped her, and as begrudging as her affection for Arthur was... well, he was still like a brother to her. One she might resent for upholding Uther’s rule, but as close to family as she had left.

Mind made up, she stood from her vanity’s stool, taking one last glance at her reflection. Her lips curved up into a smile, before she purposefully changed it to a more severe expression, her chin lifting proudly. Only her eyes hinted at the mischievous determination she felt.

Morgana slipped out of her room, striding down the hallway with a purpose. Servants doing their morning rounds hastened to give her a quick bow before scurrying off as she passed by, constantly on the move. She kept an eye out for Gwen amongst them, considering to ask her handmaiden along if they crossed paths. She dismissed the idea when she reached Arthur’s chambers without catching sight of her.

Morgana rapped on the door. Amusement grew when it hastily burst open just seconds later; if Arthur had been sitting at his desk, or even his table, he must have scrambled to reach it so fast.

“Since when do you knock, Merli- oh,” Arthur cut off. His face fell upon catching sight of her. She’d have been offended in any other circumstances, but she’d make allowances for lovesickness. “Morgana.”

“Arthur,” she said imperiously, striding forward so that he was forced to step out of the way. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“There appears to be little need,” Arthur said sardonically, scowling as he went back to the window. He perched on the sill, drawing up a knee and crossing his arms. “I’m really not in the mood for a social call, Morgana.”

“Nonsense,” she replied sweetly. “I find your current disposition no more disagreeable than usual.”

Arthur snorted, but didn’t rise up to their usual banter. His sigh dissipated whatever short-lived humour he’d found.

“I hear you’re having trouble with your manservant,” Morgana observed casually, adopting an expression of genteel concern. “I thought you might appreciate some company.”

“If you came here to laugh at me, Morgana-”

“Of course not,” she said, her face dropping the facade, taking on a more neutral mien. “Unless, you are, in fact, as dense as I suspect.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Arthur questioned. His face twisted with confusion.

“I mean that you’re obviously upset,” Morgana said, calculating quickly how to go about this without implicating Gwen. “I just came to see if you’ve realised why you’re so upset, and to offer my guidance if not. You can hardly accomplish your goals if you don’t even know what you’re aiming for.”

“And you’d do this, why?” Arthur asked suspiciously, knowing better than to interpret her assistance as any form of altruism. Save for finding himself in a life-threatening situation, Morgana always had her own agenda.

“I owe Merlin a favor,” Morgana admitted readily. Arthur opened his mouth, but she cut off the question preemptively. “And no, I’m not telling you what for.”

“I still don’t understand what a favor to Merlin has to do with me,” Arthur said, scowl deepening. “Shouldn’t you be off with him, gossiping about my atrocious misconduct and planning your revenge?”

“I don’t need Merlin to do that,” Morgana said, smiling wickedly. It fell just as quickly as it appeared.

Insufferable he might be, he didn’t deserve any more heartache. Seeing Arthur so vulnerable didn’t sit well with her.

Arthur was a spoiled prince, too much of a fool to understand his own feelings and to fix his wrongs. He had always demonstrated a perturbing lack of self-awareness, but most of the blame for that rested squarely on Uther’s shoulders.

The fact that Arthur felt guilty and distressed, and admitted fault in the face of what he’d done, showed that he was growing up. He’d been changing for the better since Merlin had come to Camelot.

Who knew, if Morgana didn’t help Arthur, he might grow even more emotionally stunted, and permanently this time. She didn’t want Arthur to return to the insensitive fool he’d been before Merlin.

“Tell me what you want,” Morgana cut right to the point. She didn’t have the spirit to talk circles around Arthur when he was like this.

“I don’t have to tell you anything-”

“Tell me,” Morgana repeated sharply. Lifting her chin, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not leaving until you do.”

Arthur glared at her mutinously for a moment, but sighed in defeat when she demonstrated no signs of relenting.

“I want Merlin to forgive me so we can go back to how it used to be.”

“Yes and no,” she determined, cocking her head thoughtfully. “Care to try again?”

“What do you mean, ‘yes and no’? You can’t demand that I tell you, and then say that my answer is wrong,” he said indignantly.

“You do want Merlin to forgive you,” Morgana allowed, “but you don’t want things to go back to how they were.”

“And you’re the expert?” he asked incredulously.

“Compared to you, anyone would be,” she drawled. “Of course I am. Think about it. Do you want Merlin to go back to treating you like a prince? I know he treats you more like a person than a servant would, but wouldn’t you rather he treat you as... say, a friend? Perhaps something more?”

“I don’t-”

“What would you call him?” Morgana interrupted. “A servant or a friend?”

“He’s obviously my servant,” Arthur scoffed pompously. Morgana waited, and he drooped. “But he’s also my... As much as he can be, he’s...”

“You can’t even say it,” she observed, but not unkindly. She walked over to him, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She used her soft voice, her comforting one, the one that she rarely used on Arthur anymore. “Wouldn’t you like to be in a relationship where you could admit how much he means to you?”

“It’s not possible,” Arthur started.

“Not possible with anyone else, perhaps,” Morgana agreed, and Arthur deflated, as if he’d hoped that she could somehow change reality, “but with Merlin, wouldn’t you like to be able to say it? Wouldn’t you like it if he could say it back?”

Arthur drew away, turning again towards the window. “Little chance of that happening now. He hates me and he has every right to.”

“Hate is a passionate feeling,” Morgana noted, trailing her fingers over his desk as she moved away. “So is love. If his love had so easily transformed into hate, it wouldn’t be easy to fix, but I have a feeling Merlin’s not one who’s so quick to turn. I doubt he hates you, even if he thinks he does.”

“He doesn’t... He never loved me,” Arthur informed her gloomily. “I was wrong. Gwen was right, I never should have assumed... How do you know about that, anyway?”

Morgana ignored the question and his seeding suspicion. “Really? I always got the impression that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him, if not more.”

“That’s not... But I don’t...”

“Don’t you?” Morgana asked delicately, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t I what?” Arthur asked, irritated.

Morgana stifled a huff of exasperation; she wondered if she should just state it outright. Her point clearly wasn’t penetrating his thick skull.

“You’ve risked your life for him, you’ve defied your father for him,” Morgana listed off plainly. “You’re always complaining about him and yet you never fire him, and you smile like a fool when you see him. Do you love him, Arthur Pendragon?”

Morgana was gifted with a very satisfying view of the crown prince gaping at her stupidly, as that was his immediate and only response. She couldn’t help but dearly wished for a portrait to immortalize the moment forever.

Five seconds, ten seconds. Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, resembling a pet goldfish she’d caught, kept, and ultimately inadvertently killed as a little girl, and her smirk widened. She’d worried briefly that she’d overloaded his admittedly left-for-wanting mind, but dismissed the thought as unlikely and not worth the effort.

There was a rap at the door.

Arthur continued to sit frozen in place. Amused at his state of distress, Morgana rose to answer the knock for him, since it was apparent that Arthur wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. At the sight of who was waiting on the other side, her amusement only grew.

“Lady Morgana,” Merlin said in surprise.

“Since when do you knock, Merlin?” she asked, smirking. As tempting as it was to stay and watch Arthur fumble their interaction, it would probably be best for her to take her leave. Behind her, Arthur still appeared speechless and unable to do much of anything, let alone breathe.

“Um,” Merlin said uncertainly.

“Go easy on him,”  Morgana said with a parting smile, head inclined towards Arthur ever so slightly. “He hasn’t had to deal with feelings since he traded his brain in for a sword. I’ll be very upset if you break him. You’d leave nothing for me.”

Arthur shot her another panicked look as she turned to leave, doubtlessly at a loss of what to do in the face of his new revelation. She offered him a saccharine smile - one she knew he would recognize from the time he’d called Lady Elaine a hobgoblin without realizing that said lady was right behind him. Morgana had smiled ever so sweetly as he’d tried to talk his way out of that one.

With a clear conscience, Morgana could enjoy Arthur’s suffering once again, as it should be. She was perfectly within her rights to relish his pain, so long as she knew it would be all right in the end.

There was always the chance Merlin wouldn’t forgive him, but knowing them, Morgana felt rather optimistic.

There was just something about those two, she couldn’t put her finger on it.