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Chapter Text

Merlin felt something tighten deep inside him. He knew what it was. The vitality of the power resting well underneath his skin was dimming. Magic was dying. And so was he. Oh the great promised land of Albion, of peace, unity, justice, and freedom. As if he's ever been free. But it did not matter anymore — he used to be bitter, now it was far too late for such fanciful feelings. Soon he wouldn't be and he was more than ready. He had been begging to fade away for centuries, so long to think it was impossible for him to meet an end. But then people gradually stopped believing. And if there is no one left alive who thinks a concept is true, how can it be? It becomes an untruth. It ceases to be.

This caused the sorcerer's brow to furrow. He did not want to see magic gone, it was supposed to flourish in the land he sacrificed so much to bring about. It appears he failed. Perhaps there was never anything truly promised. It would certainly explain how come a certain side of a certain coin had remained buried through war after war after famine after epidemic after calamity and disaster. What was Avion had no longer any right to be and that was a fact true for many years now, but he was foolishly convicted that the coin must at some time become whole again if half of it was still breathing. Apparently not, seeing that the said half was at his deathbed.

Perhaps he should visit. The lake had dried and the forest been cut down but perhaps he could find a familiar patch of soil. If familiar could even be a word used in this predicament. The days spoken of are clouded in his memory, and that's being rich. He remembers how it felt to belong, despite not being true to one's self, and the golden smudge of warmth. Of being whole. The shine of the other bookend of his soul. Not features, not his voice, nothing he could dwell on or reminisce. Nothing he could substantially recall. Just the faintest shard of memory which carried a feeling which was something very different from loneliness. It often pained him that his mind's archive has not allowed him more. And yet perhaps it was a blessing. There's only so much a heart can take.

Although he crossed that line millennia ago.

***

First there was the pain. The impossible water in his lungs, the clenching cold and the weight of his limbs. He tried desperately to move. So very desperately. He would have screamed but the air in his lungs was already a long forgotten memory. Ice laced fingers grasped him just under his arms and pulled. Hands so cold he felt them radiating lifelessness through his chainmail and through the already ever-engulfing feelings of a rather arctic nature. And yet they helped him. His feet found footing and he moved forth — the pressure gradually easing from his aching form. Light penetrated the previous utter void of water.

"Take care of him." The voice behind the hands whispered into his ear just as his head broke the surface.

He staggered to the shore and collapsed. There was too much light and air and there he felt sensations he'd forgotten how to register. His body shut down accordingly.

**

His eyelids fluttered open. There was warmth on the skin of his face — that of the sun. Arthur Pendragon gathered his strength and hoisted himself painstakingly into something of an upward position. There was nothing he recognised around him. The wood was unfamiliar, the lake gone, as if he hadn't just crawled out of it a few hours ago. Something tugged at his heart. He started walking.

He wasn't sure what propelled him forward until he saw the figure sat slumped against a tree, a few clearings away from where he had woken up. The man was old, seemingly ancient, and did not appear to be breathing. Arthur crouched beside him and almost jumped away as the avalanche of memories hit his deeply confused mind. He clutched at the man's shoulders desperately. Thoughts were still elusive and feelings overwhelmed him but all he knew was that this could not be. It could not. Arthur took the man's hands in his, eyes closed, searching for a preyer he could not recall.

The fingers between his tightened slightly. A strangled sound of relief escaped his chest.

"You came back."

"The last that is left of Albion was in need... And I have said you'd be useless without me, have I not?"

Tears streamed down Merlin's face, and it was his Merlin before him now — not the form of the ancient, silver-bearded sorcerer, but his wide-eyed and large-eared Merlin.

"...Are you- Are you really here?" His voice was strangled, words barely conceivable and Arthur had to lean in close to hear their corse whisper.

Tears still flowed from those endless eyes of blue and the once and no longer king got too lost in them to form a fitting reply. Merlin in turn took a hand to his cheek. His palm was cold but Arthur did not flinch. The man run his long fingers through his hair, his eyes softening, then withdrew, wrapping them around himself. He got up. The blonde, though slightly confused, followed.

"Was it really this simple all along? Me being in danger?" He laughed and Arthur recoiled at the sound. The pain in it was too reminiscent of Morgana's.

His once so loyal a servant was turned away but he could tell his eyes grew dark. There were thoughts he wasn't voicing but the no longer king did not feel in place to demand them revealed.

"How long has it been?" He ventured. Merlin made that cruel sound again.

"We didn't exactly record time all that well back in Camelot did we? I'm guessing somewhere around a thousand and three hundred years." Arthur stopped dead.

He felt as if he had just been hit head on by a charging lance. All air left his lungs. He staggered backwards. A thousand years. His frail human mind couldn't even comprehend such a mass of space having just... completely passed him by. How did Merlin even remember him. How did he remember the name Camelot. How was he still standing here before him and how did Arthur know he was the last of Albion when he awoke. He knew but he did not understand. Now it was made understood and it was too much. His eyes were unseeing, his ears buzzed as if he had received a blow to the head. He somehow smelled and tasted blood. It felt exactly the same as when he first broke the surface. Perhaps worse. This was the second break from his ageless slumber.

Merlin grasped his shoulder and looked into his eyes. There was the ever so familiar sight of care and worry and slight annoyance and something else entirely in his face. Merlin.

"Breathe." And Arthur did.

They stood there for a while before Merlin withdrew his hand. The ever gallant knight pretended he didn't have to fight the urge to follow the receding touch.

"Come on, we've got a train to catch." And the sorcerer took off.

"A train?? Like that of a dress?" Arthur followed, largely perplexed.

Then Merlin laughed. His true, radiant laugh. And the king felt his heart leap and his face widen into a grin so bright it could conquer with the sun.

Chapter Text

"Merlin?"

"Yes Arthur?" He sounded slightly exasperated. Pushing through the crowd of people at the 'platform' with the king of Camelot clad in full armour behind him might or might not have had that effect.

"What language are all those people speaking in? I rather thought that lakes did not pursue travel very often..." Merlin's features softened.

"It was a magical lake you know~" he grinned.

"Merlin."

"Fine, fine." He huffed a half-laugh, "It's still English just... language evolves. One would think enough time has passed for it to do so." His eyes fell away, losing focus for a moment. "I mean I'm not sure if what we spoke in the era of your reign can be called English but it is not a different ground you're standing upon. Geography wise."

Arthur looked around the carriage. People dressed so peculiarly, almost all of them staring into some form of small glowing slates, like hand mirrors which shone back at you, some of their ears covered or filled with strange devices. It was most certainly a very different ground. He looked back at his, he realised, very much no longer servant. There was a strange quality to him and yet... no one stole suspicious glances at him. They were all directed at the king.

"You fit in."

"I've evolved with them. But I do not fit in. The human body was not built to store this amount of memory. Most things I forget, but I am still nowhere near their level of obliviousness." He looked around the room, "...And I do not believe I am fully human."

Arthur studied him. His face, his hands, his countenance forever hidden beneath a blue shirt and a ref scarf. So different yet identical.

"You were always the most human out of all of us." Merlin's expression twisted.

"You don't know what I've seen."

"Humankind cannot have changed so drastically..." he gently tried a half-smile.

It worked. The man in front of him sighed.

"No." He shook his head, "No they haven't."

"...So. Magic's all right now?" He gestured to the glowing slabs.

To his surprise Merlin genuinely burst out laughing.

"Oh this?" He pulled out a similar rectangle out of his pocket. He left it on the table between them for Arthur to examine. "This is not magic. The exact opposite one could argue. It's uh... science? I'll get you a history book..."

He took the slab in his hands.

"Better get the gloves off first." Ventured Merlin, smiling down at him softly. He looked strangely fond.

The king removed his hand armour, threw it at Merlin's idiot grinning face, and took up the apparatus again.
It was cold against his touch. Cold and sleek and surprisingly light for something which seemed metal and glass. He touched the glass front and it lit up. He would have dropped it but it hovered between his fingers for a moment to then plop onto his lap. He looked up at the owner of this abomination, eyebrows high.

"Sorry, that was me. The uh... hovering I mean. They don't do that normally."

"Merlin we're in public!"

"Don't scream at me then!! It cost money... couldn't just let you drop it. They're not awfully durable..." still he glanced at the people around them somewhat guiltily. He really never did change.

"So you're still poor?"

"You're still clearly an utter prat." His gloves got thrown back at his face with no little force and he couldn't help but laugh.

***

"Hey!" A woman called after them just as they were about to step into the minuscule courtyard.

"Oh hello!" Replied Merlin, changing the course of his steps to face her.

"I am terribly sorry if this comes off as nosy, I just... Mr Emrys was a wonderful neighbour and he looked so frail when he left the house yesterday I- Is he alright?" The raven-headed young man smiled somewhat regretfully.

"He's gone." The lady gasped.

"Oh. Oh no, I am awfully sorry..."

"I'm sorry too, seems like you two were good friends," Arthur could see the change in his features as he went for a wink and then remembered it would probably be largely inappropriate and just couldn't help but stifle a laugh, "I'm his grandson, guess I'll be taking over the place..." he looked onto the house with a wistful shrug.

"Sorry, this is all very sudden... He was a fragile man of significant age and yet... Could I perhaps come to the funeral? Just to say a proper goodbye." Merlin's face grew pained.

"Oh gosh, I am so terribly sorry but there won't be a service. He wished to be cremated and there isn't really any family to speak of other than me... I can get back to you on where he'll be placed once we get there if that's okay?" She sniffed.

"No family? Gosh such a lovely man..."

"Not so much when you break his favourite pot-" Whatever did he say that for exactly?

To Arthur's surprise the woman laughed.

"Yeah... could be a bit of a character. Was genuinely scared of him for the first month or so... But then some crazy person run over my cat and he turned up all vengeful with a tray of home-baked shortbread..." she giggled, still sniffing, "Right, I'm sure you've got a lot of things to get to, I've kept you long enough..."

The not-so-deceased sorcerer held out his hand.

"Glad to be your neighbour Ms...?"

"Call me Katie."

"Right Katie, pleasure to be meeting you, despite the circumstances. I'm Merlin. Family name, don't ask." She smiled, shaking his hand, then turned to Arthur.

"Arthur." He said, squeezing her fingers slightly.

He should have kissed her hand but Merlin clearly shook it as you would a man's and he didn't want to make a fool out of himself. Being clad in full armour in these strange times seemed to be doing this for him already.

Then something terribly loud and large and clearly very heavy rolled out behind them and Arthur jumped around to face it, pulling out his sword.

Merlin covered his face with his palm and mumbled something along the lines of 'and we were doing so well'.

"Don't mind him." He shot a slight too toothy grin at Katie and started physically pulling Arthur towards the door by the rim of his gorget.

"It's a carriage you absolute cabbage-head." He fumbled with the keys for a while, finally pushing the alarmed individual inside.

"It was armoured!! And so mighty the earth shook!" He stuttered.

"You came here by a train. Which was way heavier and also quite entirely made of metal." The man raised an eyebrow.

"It took me by surprise!" Merlin shook his head, exasperated.

"You're adorable but we need to do something about this." He took off to the next room.

"I am NOT-" but Merlin was out of sight and he had to run to follow.

The rooms were tight, cluttered, and yet clean. It smelled rather pleasantly. There were books strewn about, seemingly covering more of the floorspace than of the actual shelves. Arthur stood in the middle of the room, looking around aimlessly.
He put his sword-belt down on the wide soft seating, and started unfastening his armour. It did not appear that he would be riding into battle anytime soon.

Merlin came back into view with a bundle of clothes in his hands. He stared at Arthur for a moment too long.

Then he sighed and dropped the cloths next to Excalibur, moving behind the man lost in time to help him with the chore he never really had to do alone.

He felt the subtlety of Merlin's touch stronger than ever before. Perhaps it was him being hesitant and out of practice, perhaps it was Arthur's cold ridden skin, longing for more warmth than it was receiving. Was it always like this, or has something changed? The silence surrounding them had a thick quality to it. The no longer king closed his eyes and it was as if nothing had changed. For a moment.

He breathed in, the chainmail finally lifted off his shoulders. He put his arms up but Merlin did not go for the under-garment. Instead Arthur felt a soft ball of linen hit his face.

"Oi!" He fumbled a brief leg off the top of his head and opened his eyes to glare at the persecutor.

The man was pale, and shaking slightly. There were the gentle signs foreboding tears in his eyes.

"I am going to make tea. You've proven you can dress yourself just fine in the past. Do that." And he left, not meeting the other's gaze.

Arthur's heart sunk. Did Merlin feel used? He thought that going back to the norm would bring some of the familiarity back. But perhaps for Merlin this was no longer familiar? The princeling couldn't imagine reminiscing the days of being someone's servant with much pleasure. Perhaps he hated to be reminded of it... On the other hand, he did initiate the routine. He was not commanded or even asked.

He clad the clothes. They smelled like the room -- like Merlin. He clutched at the light blue shirt, the fabric soft and stretched with ware.

"We need to get you something red." He heard a voice behind him.

Its owner gazed back at him from the threshold of another room, a ceramic cup in his hands.

"Merlin I-" his voice faltered, "I'm sorry." The target of his words snickered.

"For what?" Arthur felt a pang of uncertainty arise inside his heart.

"...For making you do this- ?" He gestured over the shed armour.

The man smiled.

"You didn't make me do anything Arthur. And it was never an issue. I enjoy serving you. As I said before... I am happy to be your servant until the end of my days."

"But you don't have to. Not anymore."

"No. It seems not." He looked taken aback. "Do you not want me to?"

"No!" His response was so sudden, the raven-haired individual raised an eyebrow, a badly-disguised grin growing on his face. "I mean... I do not technically. I don't-" he looked at the floor, took a deep breath, then looked back into those impossibly blue eyes with some force, "I do not need you to serve me Merlin. I just want you by my side. If you will."

His expression was determined and he could see that of Merlin's soften.

"Always Arthur. And forever. I thought you knew that." Arthur felt the deathly cold grip around his heart lessen, and with it his eyes stung. He held them back more out of habit than necessity.

"I did, I do. But just now... I thought-" The man's expression faltered.

"You were gone so long Arthur." The tears in his eyes were back. "So very long."

He took a few steps to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you for waiting." There was so much emotion in his voice he felt slightly ill when the words left his mouth.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have." Arthur knew what he meant and his hold of the man's body tightened.

"You cannot mean that. I do not want to hear it. Ever." There was so much pain in Merlin's eyes he felt his facade crumbling.

"Would have brought you here sooner." He shrugged, voice was weak, as if he did not in truth want to argue.

"You do not know that."

"You said it yourself -- you came in aid of the last that is left of Albion. Me. I could've just-"

"Merlin!" Both hands on his shoulders now, grasping him so very disparately, it would probably leave bruises. There were tears in his eyes now, while those in front of him were dry.

"Sorry. It's just... It's been too long. I started to believe this was all a lie. I believed I wouldn't see you again. I'm nothing without you Arthur. You are my destiny. There is no other purpose to my existence than being part of yours."

Arthur moved his hands down slightly.

"That is not true." His words were strong and the gaze that met them confused. "You are magic Merlin Emrys. You cannot annihilate yourself for the world would lose its vital part."

Merlin's eyes were wide. He stayed silent for an endless moment.

"I can't believe you've just said that." The lost king smiled.

"People can learn. Evolve, if you will." His companion snorted. "I am sorry I have not arrived sooner." His expression grew serious again for those words.

"It wasn't exactly malleable to your will." Arthur shook his head.

"I do not believe I was even conscious, nevertheless I am sorry."

"Me too." He gave a weak smile and pushed the cup into his hands. "'ve got another one waiting in the kitchen." And he turned to get it.

***

"We've been to the moon?!" Yelled a blonde man clad in a recently thrifted red polo and Merlin's never returned oversized sweatpants.

"Well not us personally." Came an exasperated reply from a man hidden behind a laptop screen on the couch.

"I want to go." Arthur's tone was so set Merlin couldn't help but giggle.

"I thought you've already established I'm poor." The king of the past rolled his eyeballs.

"Why are you poor? One would think you've been around long enough to accumulate wealth."

"Wealth attracts attention. No one pays any mind go the beggar homeless, they are invisible. For a creature of seeming immortality it's better to stay out of sight." The sorcerer shrugged.

"Seeming?" Arthur's gaze shifted away from the book he was reading to his roommate's face.

"...Yes. I was dying before you arrived. Surely you realised that." He stared at him.

"How?" Merlin sighed and closed the device.

"It's not that complicated. I am magic, I cannot exist if no one believes me true. When that comes about I become nothing more than a memory of the past, a hearsay and a myth. I die." He said it in a very 'as-a-matter-of-fact' manner yet the king could see the pain in his eyes.

"All this time spent fighting..." He nodded.

"I've made a choice. Perhaps many choices. I did not understand at the time and when I did it was too late. It couldn't have happened any other way. The golden age of Camelot came about. Gwen lifted the ban but people were scared still and all the priests of The Old Religion have burnt. No one was hanged for having gifts again but after Gwen's death the entirety of the kingdom fell apart out of its own accord anyway and... well. The next conquerers came with their own beliefs. And the cycle repeats itself."

Arthur stayed silent. His kingdom. His people. His wife. All gone. And here he was, keeping Magic alive. Magic surpassed them all. Hidden and suppressed, yet alive. And here he was wishing it could have found room to thrive. Here he was hoping it would never be extinguished.

"Wait." He finally broke the silence. "With this reasoning you're only alive as long as I am. I am the last who believes." Merlin nodded. "How long do we have then?" The man shrugged.

"Kilgharrah is dead I have no one to ask. But I am not sure it matters." Arthur stared in disbelief.

"How can it not matter?" Merlin smiled, not quite meeting his gaze.

"Whatever time I have left, we have left." His expression grew wistfully warm. "If I die tomorrow, I die happy." He met his eye and Arthur could see the unsaid.

And he couldn't help but feel something around his heart tighten.

Chapter Text

The sun on his face was warm and if he closed his eyes, the rustling of the leaves almost made things familiar.

That is until he heard the strange conversations, the traffic, the ever-present slight buzzing of electricity, the sound of passing bikes and rubber-soled shoes hitting concrete.

"Here." Merlin was holding a small rectangle wrapped in plastic.

"What is this?" The man grinned and took a sip out of his paper cup.

"Food. Not very healthy food. But sweet and- Oh you'll see." Arthur took the thing between his fingers sceptically and started peeling the soft packaging away.

It was brown and quite hard. He raised an eyebrow.

"Smell it if you don't trust me." He took a bite.

"Beowulf Almighty-" He managed while his mouth was glued together with this sweet mass of bliss and Merlin tried nodding gravely but just burst out laughing instead.

"Good innit?" The sound he made resulted in another round of snorting from his companion.

"This might be my new favourite thing. Although my teeth hurt." He declared after devouring the thing in a matter of seconds.

"Better than the moon landing?"

"...Okay second favourite. But this at least you seem to afford." In reply he got hit in the arm.

He smiled, folding and unfolding the packaging in his hands. Merlin's eyes were set on the sky, as if deep in thought, so he stayed quiet for a while.

"You know if it's flying you're after we could probably do that... Not the moon obviously but-"

"What." He stopped dead and stared the man down.

"Commercial flights can be affordable. If you don't mind being squeezed into a plastic chair for a few hours..." He abandoned the packaging and took Merlin's shoulders.

"You're telling me we can go fly. That's what you're telling me?" The man glanced briefly at the hands on his shoulders then nodded. "In the sky, soaring above the clouds? In one of those giant metal birds?" He pointed at the sky and the sorcerer laughed.

"Yes Arthur. We could technically. I'd probably have go get a job after we got back but yeah." Arthur's expression must have said a lot of things because he again resorted to laughter. "Gosh, I forget you've never flown."

The long lost king raised an eyebrow.

"Well obviously Merlin, there weren't many airships in Camelot, were they now?" He shook his head.

"Yes, yes, I know, it's just... I've kinda... travelled by dragon once? Maybe a few times..."

"I hate you." Merlin grinned.

He gestured towards a bench and once they were seated he pulled out his not-usually-hovering device. Or a phone as it was apparently called.

"Where d'ya wanna go?" Arthur stared.

"Uppsala." The raven-haired one groaned.

"Literally the entirety of the globe is at your disposal and you want to go to Sweden. It's so cold there..."

"I do not want to gaze upon the Romans." The man laughed so hard he choked on his mysterious paper-clad drink.

"...They do make a mean coffee. And ice cream. And pizza. All the things right with this world-" He tried to reason, still coughing miserably. Arthur hit his back. "Ow! Thanks." The look he gave him had nothing of gratitude in it. "Besides the Roman Empire's not a thing anymore."

"Right. Both of them." The man huffed.

"Fine. We can go to Stockholm. A day trip to Uppsala will suffice." Arthur grinned.

"Why are you so excited about tombs?"

"I once promised Ongenþeow I'd visit. But it always seemed quite the journey..."

"Right. Of course you did. God my students would go nuts if they heard this conversation."

"Your students?"

"Yeah I used to teach medieval history. Before I retired and you came."

"Touché."

"Yes, well. Existence gets tiresome after a while, an easy way is not always a bad one."

"Forgot you could do that." He smirked.

"Do what?" Merlin gave him a suspicious look.

"Be wise."

"Oh shut up dollop-head. You're talking to a literal thousand-year-old wizard." The king laughed.

***

"I am not taking off your belt Arthur."

"Why not?" The man fumbling with their bags near the strange cleansing machine huffed in obvious annoyance.

"People don't get dressed by other people anymore. We've had this conversation. Unless you want to play infant?" Arthur waved him away, ridding himself of the remaining metal on his body.

"The ring as well?" He asked, just before Merlin was about to get ushered into the strange empty doorway.

The man stared at the king's hands a while. And he in turn stared at him. He could see the mist of reminiscence cover those eyes of deep blue. Finally he shrugged.

"Think not. People don't take their wedding bands off so..." Arthur spun it around his finger a few times and nodded.

He was beginning to feel almost at ease with this reality, almost starting to forget he was no part of it. It was a strange feeling, clutching his mother's ancient ring, knowing Excalibur lay somewhere on a suburban kitchen table, armour which has literally seen battle, joining it somewhere in a closet. How could he feel at home so far away from everything he knew. He passed the blinking doorframe and got a clear view of Merlin stuffing things back into a strangely vibrant sack which served as their luggage. And he knew how.

**

"Do those tiny airplanes also fly? I want one." The sorcerer looked ready to strangle him right in the middle of this awfully bright market.

"No. It does not fly. It's a toy. And a bloody expensive one, I'm not getting you a plane figurine."

"You are awful, you know that?"

"Yes sire, I am quite aware of my wickedness. Now please get a move on."

**

"Can we get on the plane now?" His back was beginning to hurt from those dreadful metal chairs and his excitement was reaching a point of near bursting, so he took to pacing before Merlin rather intensely.

"No. We have to wait for the people to clean it and check if it's not malfunctioning and fuel it and things like that." The man's voice was barely audible due to his face being covered by his hands in a gesture of utter exhaustion.

"So they're readying the horses basically?" The mouth between the fingers twisted into something of a smile.

"Yes. But it's one giant horse."

"Couldn't they have done this in the morning?"

"They have to do it before every flight Arthur. Or are you eager to fall from the sky?" He remembered how tiny the loud metal birds usually seemed on their walks and how large they actually were as he now saw them through the port's windows. He swallowed, hard.

Merlin looked up at him.

"Don't worry they don't actually fall from the sky very often. Jousting had a much higher death rate and you've engaged in that plenty. Besides we won't crash with me on board."

"I wasn't scared." He was not quite meeting his eyes when he said that and the sorcerer looked amused.

"Sure you weren't."

**

The machine was more cramped inside than he expected. Or rather it was large, just the seating was arranged in a tight manner. He did not mind, perhaps it was better to feel enveloped by the hard plastic of the seat, it was somewhat anchoring. His companion pulled out a small packet of plastic and stuck it in his pocket while pushing one of the backpacks underneath the seat in front of them with his feet.
Then a men showed up, gazing at them questioningly, looking up at the little number above the chair row and down at Merlin. He flashed his eyes of gold back at him and the individual turned away.

"Merlin." The sorcerer blinked up at him semi-innocently.

"Yes?

"What did you do?" He crossed his arms.

"By whatever do you mean, my most magnificent liege?" Arthur tried to look stern but at that he failed.

"Don't think you can get away with such cheap flattery you village idiot!" He most certainly could but the king would rather not admit it to himself just yet.

Merlin sighed.
"I made him... believe we had swapped seats." Arthur frowned. "You have to pay extra for assigned seating. Like next to the person you're travelling with, unless they're a child in your care." He explained, seeing his confusion.

"You're that cheap." That got his arm punched.

"I wanted to sit next to you in case you started freaking out, you prat! And we can spend the extra quid on food..."

"I will not be 'freaking out' and you are just cheap."

"You really are an entitled brat aren't you."

"Well according to your history books the crown is now held by another name so I am largely unsure about the 'entitled' part of the phrase used..." Merlin kicked his foot with some strength.

This resulted in a bout of rather ridiculous play fighting which lasted up until one of the people in funny uniforms started speaking through the speakers. Arthur wanted to see the other ones which were getting ready to perform some sort of a demonstration in between the rows so he draped himself over the raven-haired individual, immobilising his arms and bringing himself closer to the spectacle at the same time.
Two birds one stone, or whatever the sages say.

He leaned back when they started packing up their little props to 'adjust his seatbelt' and he felt the machine start to roll. Merlin lowered the armrest between them and Arthur noticed the tips of his comically large ears were burning red.

"Why are you doing that?" He pointed at the piece of plastic separating them.

"They've literally just said that you're supposed to unfold the armrests and put up your table."

"What table?" The sorcerer moved the little protruding bit on the back of the seat in front of the largely confused king.

"Ah." He said as the tiny panel unfolded. He put it back up himself.

Suddenly he heard a loud whirling sound and he jumped, as much as the seatbelt allowed him to.

"That's the engines." The man pointed at the metal wing stretching beyond the little window.

Arthur tried to settle down but the intense, almost vibrating noise, and the sight of a straight line of dark road in front of them filled him with anticipation so great it was almost nauseating. His companion picked a small white rectangle from his pocket and started chewing.

"You want one?" He just shook his head, not taking his eyes off the seemingly unmoving wing.

Then the machine started accelerating, and the blonde felt himself being pushed into the chair. He was somehow too afraid to shut his eyes.
Merlin took his hand, gently, as to not startle him. Arthur intertwined their fingers without looking and squeezed a little. The man's warmth was grounding, he breathed in and gasped quietly as the wheels detached from the ground.

The moment he felt the pressure subside a little he clung to the window. For a second everything was so tiny, but he mostly missed that part, what he now saw was them breaking the clouds. All was grey and then... his breath caught in his throat. They were soaring above a floor of the softest texture his eyes have ever gazed upon. Like pillows of moss in the forest, like the insides of a duvet. The painfully clear hemisphere above and the clustered clouds below. His heart skipped a beat. After a while he finally managed to tare his eyes away.

"Merlin." The man was looking at him curiously.

"Yea?"

"You know you were really always my only friend." He saw his expression change. "Sure, there were the knights and the sons of lords I've trained with but... That's a different sort of camaraderie. They were told to like me, or it was purely based on duty, they did not dare try to look at me beyond my name. But you never understood that did you? You looked at people as they were, judging their character not rank. You never cared. You are wise Merlin. And good. Thank you for this. Thank you for being my friend."

The man's eyes were wide and slightly too damp for their natural state. He stared at Arthur for a very long time.

"My pleasure." He nodded, turning back to the window.
"And Arthur?" He glanced back.

"Yes?"

"Remember when you were fighting that guy while blindfolded during training once?" He raised an eyebrow and nodded. "I was lying. I have never seen better. You were amazing." The no longer king grinned.

"Thanks."

***

"A reservation for Emrys?" The woman clicked away on her little keyboard.

Arthur was staring out the large front windows.

"Hm." She said. "There appears to be a mistake with your reservation..."

"Is there really?" She looked Merlin up and down, then flicked her eyes between them a couple of times.

"Most definitely." Was the final verdict. "But I think..." she drew closer to the screen for a while, "yes, we can fix it. All done, here's your key. First floor." A little cardboard envelope was handed in their general direction, Merlin took it with a little nod and headed towards the stairs.

Arthur noticed he was blushing again.

"What was that about?"

"No idea." The man replied, a tad too quickly for honesty.

He scurried up the last few steps, letting those absurdly long legs of his carry him.
Arthur caught up when he was opening the door. Was he falling out of shape?

The room was pleasant, too tidy to have much character and rather small. Arthur walked around, then plopped onto the bed.

"A beautiful country." His companion sighed, throwing the bags onto the floor.

The lost king thought it was a bit of a strange reflection, seeing as he was nowhere near the windows.

"See? And you didn't event want to come." A moment of silence. "Merlin where's the other bedroom?"

"There isn't one." Now he was facing the window, fidgeting with the curtains.

"Miss sleeping on the floor, do you?" He spun around, his arms crossed.

"You book the room per number of people not number of beds. This is accommodation for two. If you want I can bring it up with the reception maybe they can move us-"

"No." Merlin raised an eyebrow, a little smirk playing on his lips. Arthur remembered how the lady at the desk eyed the raven-haired idiot and decided he did not care for that to happen again. "It's fine."

"Is it?"

"It's only what? Three nights? I can manage your stench this long."

"You are truly the master of comedy, my lord."

**

"Up!" Someone tugged at his duvet.

"Noo..." he mumbled into the pillow.

"If we miss the train there won't be no Uppsala sighting you know?"

"It's too early..." he groaned.

"You leave me no choice." Something quite literally ice cold pressed against his stomach mercilessly.

He jumped up, trying to get away.

"There we go!" Merlin moved back, quite self-satisfied.

"Was that your hands??!"

"...Yes?" For a moment the man looked uncertain and slightly bashful.

"What the hell did you do to them to be this cold?! Enjoyed a little ice bath at sunrise? Perhaps a baltic swimming session? Just jumped right into one of those canals??"

The walking iceberg pointed at their little table.

"I went out to get breakfast."

"Oh."

"So get up and move your royal arse or I'll devour all of it, come on!" He made a circular gesture, trying to hurry him along.

***

The day was surprisingly sunny. They walked through the uneven grassland, passing hikers and tourists such as themselves. Yet so different from themselves. Arthur gazed at the tombs, the sweet aftermath of the breakfast's pastries still lingering on his tongue. People he knew, someone he spoke to and laughed with, lay beneath this hill, lost and reduced to not much beyond ash and bone. That's where he should be.

"Why us?" Merlin laughed.

"Oh Arthur. I have lived too long to play this game."

"Do you not sometimes wish to have been something else?" A bird flew above the little string fence keeping them from the mound, the lost king watched its careless stroll through the air with something akin to jealousy.

"No."

"How?"

"We've had a good life, back in Camelot. I've had a few decent lifetimes ever since. There were more of the terrible ones of course and no joy ever rung as sweet without-" he hesitated, "It does not matter. We don't choose to be born. No one wills themselves into existence. It wasn't a decision we made to be as we were and are."

"We could have left. Gotten a farm." The man was quiet a while and if Arthur had turned around he would see the warmth in his face. He did not.

"No. We couldn't have." He sighed, resigned in agreement.

"Duty?"

"It was not simply duty, my friend." The raven-haired individual stepped in by his side and gazed upon the plane. "It was a purpose, a mission. You loved Camelot. You genuinely loved its people. With all your heart and devotion. Even if you did not choose to be born into your kinghood, you dedicated yourself to it completely. There was never such after you." The blonde looked at this man's profile, as he was still focused at something in the distance stretching in front of them.

What did he do to deserve him? How could the universe be so generous to him, and so very cruel to this being of magic, humanity, kindness and wisdom?

"What about you?"

"What?" He looked startled now, still not meeting Arthur's eye.

"You've been very accurate in determining why I've stuck around, why have you? What kept you inside walls which forced you to lie and live in the shadow of shadows. Never recognised, never shown proper gratitude, yet forever expectant of acts of ultimate service."

"You mostly, if I'm honest. The Dragon told me you could not be without me and I could not be without you. And I believed in you and what you would become. Even if you were, and are, an utter prat. And you apparently would not have been crowned without my assistance, who exactly was I to argue with destiny. Not that I didn't. Not that it made any difference in the end."

"But you..." Arthur frowned in confusion, "I remember. I asked you if you thought magic should be legalised or if I should let Mordred die. Now I know it had probably been prophesied that he was to be my bane and you, of course, knew that, so you chose- You chose my life over that of magic, over freedom for yourself and so many others... You could have brought about the golden age in that moment."

"But I chose you." Merlin sighed. "And I'd probably do it again." He looked down at his hands. "Nope. I most certainly would do it again, there is no room for doubt there. I've considered this enough over the years. It was probably the most important and difficult decision of my entire existence, but I will always choose you."

Arthur's own hands were shaking.

"Why?" The man finally looked straight at him. And held that stare for what seemed like literal hours.

"You are the best man I have ever met. You are my friend. You are the reason I am alive. The reason I ever were."

"But is it your choice to be by my side or is it just the strings of destiny pulling us together?"

"Arthur." Their eyes locked with a ferocity unfamiliar to anything at all.

Merlin took the one step forward that was between them and locked Arthur between his arms, pushing his face into his neck.

"If you ever say something like that again I will break your fucking bones."

The no-longer king felt his face grow wet and he clung onto Merlin as if he was a shelf on a cliff.

"Even if it is the bloody threads I am glad for them. You hear me? I'm glad they have tied us because..." the man pulled away slightly to get the words out but they now stuck in his throat as tears overtook him, "I would not ever wish for it to be anyone else. I want you in whatever life I have left."

Arthur nodded. He could not speak. The sorcerer realised he had not seen the king weep like this before. Ever. They held onto each other for some time. A pretty large amount of time.

***

He lay in bed, unmoving, willing himself into unconsciousness. It was somehow different now. He could feel Merlin's warmth beneath the covers even though they weren't even that close to each other. Actually it felt as if they were miles away. The hole between them gaping and empty and cold. And yet every inch of his body, every fiber of his skin, was acutely aware of the man he was sharing this moment of rest with. His stomach churned, his mind aflame. He ached to reach out. But he would not.

**

"You know, I always imagined you'd ask about Gwen more." The raven-haired man remarked as they walked through gamla stan.

"Why?"

"...What do you mean why?" The look he received was rather confused.

"You said you never came back. What position am I in to ask?" He retorted.

"She was your wife Arthur."

"Was she a good queen?"

"The best." There was something akin to pride in Merlin's voice.

"Then that is all I need to know." The sorcerer still looked largely confounded.

"Is it?" He shot him an exasperated glare.

"I valued her as a person and I knew she would make an ideal queen but her heart was never mine Merlin. I think we both know that."

The scent in the air was sweet, the chatter of people pleasantly unfamiliar. It was much chillier than yesterday and Arthur watched his companion burry his nose in a scarf.

"Who did your heart belong to?" He mumbled through the fabric suddenly.

"What?" The knight stopped for a moment.

Merlin looked back, shrugging slightly with one shoulder and they carefully resumed their stroll.

"Camelot." He replied.

"Right."

"So how was Guenoviere?"

"As a person?" The blonde nodded.

"She lost many things precious to her, I can't imagine it to have been easy. She was forced to remarry I think. But overall from what I had gathered at the time she picked herself up as best she could. She had Gaius and Leon. And the support of the people."

"Only two? Only two stayed?"

"Percival did not take Gwaine's death very well, I don't think they had seen much of him after your... departure. So yes, pretty much. I often felt bad for not allowing her the chance bury you."

"Don't. I didn't need anything else." Merlin looked at him for a long time after this.

"You wouldn't have rather lain in Camelot's walls?" Arthur pondered this.

"Perhaps it had taken enough of me." Merlin stared at him again.

There seemed to be something turbulent fighting just beneath his miraculously kept facade.

"You can live for yourself now." They had reached a bank and decided to sit on the stone pavement despite the cold.

"I do not know what that means." Merlin nodded.

"It had taken me a while to understand; this society is very individual-oriented. But you'll get used to it."

"I'm not sure I want to." The man looked up at him, untangling slightly from the scarf. "What am I without a purpose?"

"You can find a new mission. One which will also bring you joy and fulfilment." The raven-hair tilted his head slightly as he said this.

Arthur stared, watching the wind play with those untidy dark locs and the sparkling of those unimaginably blue irises.

"I think I already have."

Merlin gazed at him curiously but nodded, not pressing further.
The king found himself wishing he would.

***

"Oh gosh, I am so terribly sorry!" Could be heard from across the room as Arthur was cutting through a sausage with his fork.

He would recognise that tone anywhere so he didn't have to turn around to know it was his, still idiot, no longer manservant. However having gotten a little bit more sleep that night due to passing out quite quickly after having wasted the previous one, he was feeling quite alert and thus noticed the man was taking much longer than he should with getting his goodbye kanelbullar. So he did in fact glance over his shoulder.

What played before him was a scene of Merlin chatting merrily with some bearded blonde man who kept smiling smugly and moving his eyes very deliberately over different parts of the sorcerer's body while the said individual was gradually reddening.

Arthur turned back to his breakfast, somehow having lost appetite and resulting to stabbing the meat and eggs somewhat viciously.

After a few minutes which felt like literal lifetimes his companion finally joined him, equipped with the said cinnamon pastry, but also a cup of coffee and a small piece of paper.

"Bad sausage?" The man arched an eyebrow at the state of Arthur's plate, clearly in a rather good mood.

"Something like that." There was something deeply unbearable about the sight of Merlin's contentment at the moment and the blonde would probably feel a little bit of an ass for thinking it, if he wasn't so bloody angry. "Enjoying yourself are you?" The blue-eyed wonder hummed. He literally hummed.

"Quite! It's a good piece of sweetness that," he pointed at the bun, "one would think we'd have enough after three days but nope, still good." Arthur made an incoherent grunting sound.

"What's that." He shot a distrustful glare at the blatantly evil paper scrap.

Merlin grinned very stupidly and shyly but also somehow proudly and the hot-headed knight felt his loathsome resolve melt away.

"A number!" He said emphatically but Arthur just blinked. "Like a phone number - contact details, not like a measurement or something." He added in explanation with some fondness in his features.

"Contact to whom."

"That guy." The man pointed at the bearded individual who was actually just leaving and nodded his head at them before heading out the door.

"...Are you going to phone him?" The raven-head smiled.

"No." The king blinked in confusion once again.

He was, for reasons unknown, very glad of this definite and swift answer yet quite at a loss to the reasoning behind it.

"Wha- but. Why? He seemed pretty... taken with you." These words were once again met with a fond grin.

"He was. It was very nice actually. Not often I get randomly hit on, and at breakfast of all things."

"Get what?" Merlin always tried to stay somewhat serious when explaining things to his no-longer lord yet this time not bursting out laughing was simply impossible with the face of honest terror the man was making.

"Wooed, I guess. Although I wouldn't say it gets anywhere near the refinement to deserve this title nowadays..." he managed after several deep breaths.

"He- A man?? Just like this? Here?" He knew there was nothing of innocence in the looks his friend was receiving.

"Yes Arthur, people don't really care who you're romantically interested in anymore. I mean some do. Unfortunately. It depends on the region and beliefs and well, many things. But it's mostly alright." He was looking at him with a pretty high level of scrutiny now.

"Can you marry?" The man choked on his coffee. And quite badly at that, he went into a pretty long coughing fit. "All right?"

"Yeah, sorry, just... caught me off guard." He croaked. "It depends on the country and its laws. Here, Sweden? Yes. Back in the UK, also yes. But there are also many places where you can't. At least not yet. And some which will probably not get there in a while, if ever."

"Ireland?"

"Yeah, it's fine there."

"Gwaine would be happy." Merlin's eyes widened.

"Yeah. He would. Though he uh, fought for both sides, you could say."

"And Morgana."

"Wait, really? I mean I sort of suspected but we weren't that close exactly..."

"She had a big thing for Guenoviere."

"She did? Oh, of course she did. So much makes sense now."

Arthur's eggs grew cold so he gave up on them instead stealing Merlin's unfinished kanelbullar. The man was apparently too overwhelmed by the news to protest much.

"So why won't you contact the guy?" That got him back to the present successfully enough.

"I'm not interested."

"You're not?" He raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise and also felt a pang he did not want to acknowledge at his heartstrings.

"Oh. No. Not like not in- wait." The raven-haired man was bright red now. "Not interested in *him*. Specifically." Ah.

"Why not?" And why not just take the victory, why did he have to be so prattish about this??

"Why are we even discussing this? Enough stalling, we'll miss the plane, come on." He got up and practically bolted away from the table, making sure not to look anywhere near Arthur's vicinity.

Chapter Text

"I'm leaving."

"What?" There was distraught panic in his eyes.

"For work, idiot. I told you I'm staring this Monday." He might have mentioned it...

"The man who is going to get paid for guarding books calls me an idiot?" Merlin rolled his eyes unimpressed.

"Exactly what tangible skill do you bring about yourself that can be forged into any real form of employment, your Majesty? You cannot even begin to fathom how many degrees I've acquired over the years and I had more brain cells than you way before that, so excuse me while I go earn our living." He grinned and slammed the door behind him.

Arthur smiled.

But what was he supposed to do with the rest of his day now? What did Merlin usually do when Arthur went training or hunting or to attend meetings...? Well he mostly went with him. But when he didn't? Probably run errands for Gaius. Not very helpful.

What did Guenoviere do after her duty hours when she was still Morgana's maid? As if he knew. Tended to her house? Cooked? Slept probably, with the hours she was working... How exactly does one 'tend to the house'? Merlin dusted and swept with his magic mostly, so the rooms were always impeccably clean. Cooking it is. How big were the chances that his skills have been miraculously improved by his time in the lake...? Not great, knowing his luck.
He would just... buy something (like ten chocolate bars!) but he had no money, obviously. He could command the Katie woman next door. That did not exactly seem fair. Or probable that she would even listen.

**

The dark-haired woman opened the door.

"Oh! Hello?"

"Can you teach me to cook something?"

"...Sorry?" Her face was incredibly confused.

"Is that a no?"

"No. No that's not a no, that's a 'what on Earth?!'"

"Ah." They stared at each other for a while, "Can I come in?" The woman blinked a few times, then shrugged and stepped back to let him pass.

"...So what do you want to learn?"

"Anything."

"Anything?"

"Dinner probably." Katie blinked again, frowning.

"...You haven't cooked before?"

"No." The absoluteness of this statement made her raise her eyebrows very high.

"Nothing? Nothing at all? How did you survive...? Sorry, that's rude."

"My family had service."

"What, like private chefs? You royalty or something?"

"Yes."

"Oh." She stared at him now, having grown a little apprehensive, subconsciously trying to fix her wrinkled t-shirt a bit.

"Kitchen?"

"Right down there." She pointed into a corridor just past him.

He nodded and took off in that direction.

"I brought this." He dug his hand in the bag he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out some canned beans, a bootle of passata, lasagne sheets, a singular onion and potato, a pear and a block of cheese.

"...I think I've got some meat in the fridge so we can make a lasagne since you brought the pasta." She said very slowly, not taking her eyes off the wild arrangement of products on her countertop.

Arthur was pretty useless but he tried hard to follow the woman's instructions and she found that quite endearing. He was doing his best. Which was admittedly not a lot.

After some time the dish was in the over and the king was quite impressed with it not being an absolute mess. Probably the neighbouring woman's fault.

"Thank you. I did not expect you to actually indulge me." He said after a while of staring at the heat-machine.

"My pleasure!" She smiled up at him, "Why are you even doing this, if I may ask?"

"Merlin's got a new job now, I obviously don't. I wanted to at least have something waiting for him when he gets back..." Which is not the reasoning he stated this quest with, but one that he now realised was the fuller truth.

"That is very sweet of you." He crossed his arms somewhat defiantly, yet looked away to not risk meeting her eyes.

"It's the least I could do after what he did for me."

Katie didn't ask and he was glad since he was never a very good liar. After a moment she went out to grab a book and sat at the table with some tea, which he also accepted.

***

"...You made this?" The look of genuine bewilderment on his face was slightly annoying, even if quite understandable.

"Yes. With the neighbouring woman's help. A lot of her help..."

"Katie?" Arthur nodded.

Merlin reluctantly stabbed the meal with his fork.

"Wait that's actually good!" The blonde couldn't help but grin. "I genuinely can't believe this is edible! Good work, my liege!" He rolled his eyes, smile not dimming a single notch. "Of course now I have to repay poor Katie for having endured you somehow... But I nevertheless appreciate the gesture."

"Why do I even bother?" Mumbled the king, looking around for something to throw at Merlin's head.

"That is a good question, why did you bother?"

He decided upon the poor lonely pear they hadn't managed to implement into the recipe.

"Ow!"

**

"Did you get me flowers?" Merlin rushed in, the door swinging shut behind him.

"And hello to you too."

"Arthur." He blinked up at him from a book, tilting his head innocently.
(The book was on the history of plumbing, as he still found that largely unbelievable.)

"I walk in, a bouquet of freshly picked flowers on my desk. Nora said some blonde guy looking largely lost and determined brought it in. Now you wouldn't happen to know any such specimen, would you?"

"Lost? I never look lost! I knew exactly where I was going." He protested, somewhat untruthfully.

"...Thanks." Merlin was looking at him strangely and blushing slightly at the points of his eats.

Arthur went back to his book, not meeting the man's undoubtedly sparkling eyes.

**

"Arthur?" He smiled knowingly then tried to hurriedly calm his expression.

"Yes?" The words were believably neutral, not a sliver of excitement escaped him while staring at the electric kettle performing its rapid boiling ritual.

"Katie just stopped me outside to thank you for 'the cake'." The man sounded so genuinely appalled that the king had to fight hard not to giggle.

"There's some less successful batches in the fridge, if you're interested." He pulled out two mugs.

One said something stupid like 'I found this humerus' with a picture of a bone on it, Merlin had a lot of those. The second one was red.

"Arthur are you feeling well?" The raven-head was suddenly right next to him, pressing the back of his palm against his forehead. "You've been acting very strange lately." He batted the hand away, pretending not to redden at the touch.

He was probably getting quite pathetic but they hadn't been this close to each other in a while.

"I'm fine, Merlin." The man was studying his face with a look of somewhat endearing worry and confusion. "Here's your tea. Careful, it's hot." He pressed it into the man's hands and walked off to the couch, just to get away.

**

They had been watching a movie. Something with giant lizards that Merlin said he absolutely needed to see. Part of his cultural education. But now the film was coming to a closure and the man by his side was fast asleep. Asleep and leaning heavily on Arthur's shoulder. He didn't really notice at what point the raven-clad head slumped against his arm but now he couldn't breathe. The movie ended so he was allowed to just wake him but Merlin was surprisingly tired throughout this week; something about a new 'digitalisation policy', which sounded absolutely terrifying. Instead he scooped him up and carried him to the bed. His companion was sleeping on the couch ever since the lost king arrived and Arthur wanted to protest at times but... it felt so natural and safe at the beginning and now he just felt embarrassed. But not today. He laid the man down and draped a blanket around him. He was still in his everyday clothes and the blonde didn't trust himself enough to try and change him out of them so... blanket it was.

The man must have been seriously exhausted if all this fussing about didn't wake him. His breath was steady and his mouth slightly ajar, eyelids closed to expose in all range the magnificence of his eyelashes. Arthur stared at those lips for a long bit and with slightly too much intensity. He noticed Merlin's shirt was still buttoned up quite tightly so he reached out to undo the first two. His hand froze at the sight of those bare collarbones and for a second he mourned how much he lost due to his servant's uncanny obsession with neckerchiefs back in the day. The no-longer king brushed his fingers against that patch of pale skin, inhaling sharply and pulled away. Heat was rising in his cheeks so he stole one last glance at the exposed throat and dreamily relaxed brow, turned on his heel and tiptoed back to the living room just to lie on the sofa and stare at the ceiling until uncanny hours of the night.
He planned on making pancakes in the morning, as it was something he managed to perfect over the last few weeks.

**

Merlin stumbled into the kitchen, blushing and bed-haired and soft and sweet. Like a large spoon of honey in a cupful of tea. Arthur's heart nearly gave out as he shakily flipped a pancake.

"Morning." He croaked, trying to respectfully stare somewhere above the man's left shoulder.

"I slept in your bed." Arthur swallowed hard at the thought of what this statement would imply without context.

"It's literally your bed Merlin." He replied as nonchalantly as his shaking hands would allow.

"Why?" The blonde risked meeting his gaze.

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?" The man sounded deeply serious and his expression was lost. Not a 'mildly confused' lost, a 'child abandoned in the middle of market square' type of despairing lost.

"Doing what?" Why was his voice so close to breaking?

"Don't play with me." He inhaled at the harshness of this.

"Merlin you served me with all you are and were for over a decade. You waited to serve me again, which is still pretty much service, for millenia. I can never repay you. But I will try." He sighed. "I know what I'm doing is too small to ever matter and you probably think it's silly, but I'm new to this and I'll do everything in my power to learn b-" he was cut off the something hitting him straight in the chest, pushing all air out.

It was Merlin, currently crushing him in an embrace. Like really crushing him, it was nearly impossible to breathe, who knew this lanky twig of a man had this much underlying strength lurking about. He could smell his soft bed-ridden skin and wonderfully silky dark locks and they smelled of Arthur. The result of spending the night in his sheets, presumably, but it nonetheless turned the lost prince bright red.

"I fucking hate your prattish ass." Was he crying?

"Back at ya sweetheart." The man pulled back to give him a look.

"Come again?"

"Better not." Merlin nodded making one of his remarkable wide-eyed faces and got back to crushing him.

"You're gonna make me burn our breakfast."

"Fuck off."

"All right."

Chapter Text

"I love you." They were on the couch again, watching season 10 of Bake Off as the outside world turned white around them.

Merlin gasped as the impact of the words hit him.

"Have loved you since the very beginning, but, you know. I am very stupid."

He wasn't meeting his eyes, just kept on staring absently at Noel Fielding's shenanigans.

"That you definitely are." His voice was so rich with emotion, so soft and beautifully vulnerable that Albion's promised salvation could not bear to not gaze upon its owner.

He looked so happy. So genuinely and gently happy. Arthur felt tears escape his eyes at the sight. He made him wait so long. It was all his fault.

"I am so sorry."

The sorcerer smiled and nodded. He took his palm go the king's cheek. His eyes grew so much brighter with fondness with every inch of skin and strand of hair his fingers felt.
They were still coarse. After all those years, they were the hands of a worker, a servant, yet so much more.

Arthur took the hand from his face and pressed a kiss onto it. Then another.

He would kiss all the pain and injustice away, gently, diligently, until his last breath.