Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun was steadily rising. A line of amber slowly bleeding out from the horizon chasing away the vast indigo surrounding it.

As the sunlight slowly lit up the Camelot countryside; warming all it touched, Arthur felt his mood improve fraction by fraction. Granted no amount of sunlight was going to chase away the crick in his back that he had gotten from riding for the past twelve hours nor the cut across his forehead that he got from insisting that they ride through the night to make it to Camelot by morning.

But then when all was said and done he was glad to be home after a long week of riding from village to village checking on any grain shortages or potential bandit problems.
Camelot was now a silhouette, a black shape contrasting against a vast sea of deep oranges and rich yellows.

As Arthur bounced along at a steady canter he could only just hear the sound of numerous hooves from the horses carrying his knights and Merlin clacking against the well-used road.

Arthur’s glum mood for the last part of the trip had fiercely deterred any conversation and so he hadn’t heard a word from anyone save a hushed whisper here and there since nightfall.

Due to the sun, there was finally some visibility so he chanced a glance back to his manservant.

Merlin looked run ragged, his thin fingers tightly gripping the reins on his mare. His face was flushed from the cold and there were smears of mud under his eyes and across his cheeks. His body seemed to sway along with the horse offering little resistance and Arthur worried that he might fall off of it entirely.

That however was when Merlin’s eyes, once glazed over, seemed to snap to life. Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s and they were like clear cut cerulean glass. They seemed to contrast with everything else around him, from his muddied clothes and dusty skin. They were a bright beacon and as Arthur held their gaze he saw a small smile form across Merlin’s lips.
It was tired and weary but warm and it caused a flutter in Arthur’s stomach and heat to bloom across his cheeks and crawl up along the back of his neck.

Arthur flicked his head around to face Camelot once more and bore his stallion onto a gallop determined more than ever to make it back to Camelot, his mood still sour, his body sore but his heart; try as he might to stamp it out; still fluttering.

-------

When they arrived at the courtyard of the castle, it was still the early hours of the morning. However it was not nearly as deserted as Arthur had suspected it would be. While Arthur was vaguely aware the servants were always up earlier than the nobility, he supposed he never really thought about it in depth. But now as he rode in slowly past the gates towards the stables he saw a side to the castle he never had before.

The air was crisp and cold like it always was in the cool of the morning but there was also faint smell of freshly baked bread which made much more sense when he saw the baker who had just passed them carrying his load of freshly baked bread down into the town to sell. There were maids wearing flowers in their hair like Gwen did sometimes, walking along with baskets of laundry in their hands smiling and giggling, and stable boys making their ways to the stable with rickety carts full of hay.

It seemed more peaceful at this time somehow, it was quieter and simpler and Arthur wondered if the servants much preferred the time in the morning before the knights and nobles of the court woke and demanded for this and that. Arthur thought that if he were them he might rather fancy it as well.

When they reached the stables Arthur quickly dismounted from his horse, giving him a quick pat with the grain of his fur down his neck in apology for riding him that hard all night with very little rest before handing his reins over to the stable hand.

“All right men,” Arthur addressed his knights, “it was a long journey and a hard nights ride but we made it. Check your weapons in the armoury and take the day, catch up on some sleep and we will resume training and our regular duties tomorrow. Dismissed.”

The knights all turned their attention from Arthur and began climbing the steps to castle before turning down the hallway leading down towards the armoury. Merlin much to Arthur’s ire was following them presumably heading towards his chambers, still Arthur called out…

“Merlin and just where do you think you are going?”

Merlin stopped and spun around his face a mask of confusion.

“Um... bed?”

“Oh I see, you presume that while I have to go and take inventory and give a report to my father and finish up my duties that you are allowed to take a respite from yours and have a nap?” Arthur asked mockingly.

“I just thought…”

“Yes well there’s the problem see, thinking has never really been your forte.”

There was a spark of flint in Merlin’s eyes and his shoulders tensed before Arthur saw Merlin rein in his anger, or his weariness won out, most likely a mix of both. Merlin’s eyes went downcast, his jaw clenched and tone clipped.

“No… sire.” Merlin pushed out through his teeth.

Arthur was tired and that made him angry, angry and annoyed. He knew he had no real reason to be but he was.

“Just go to my chambers and get it ready for me. I will be there in an hour or so, then you can go when dismissed. Got that Merlin.” Arthur waited for a curt nod from Merlin before he bounded up the stairs and started down the hallway towards the armory.

He was halfway down the deserted walkway; his muddied boots echoing in a way more similar to thunder at this time in the morning than the usual clack it would make at midday, before the feelings of regret and guilt started to seep into the corners of his consciousness. He had been unfair to Merlin, he was weary and only wanted rest and Arthur knew Merlin had worked just as hard as any other man on their trip, probably harder if Arthur was being honest.

Merlin tended to always see Arthur at his worst, when he was tired after a long meeting or on the days when his temper was short but that was no excuse. Arthur would apologize when he next saw him. Or the closest thing to an apology that Arthur tended to manage.

------

Arthur opened the door to his chambers, he had finally finished his duties including giving a full report to his father who had listened with a disinterested look on his face as he broke his fast. Arthur was tired, the kind of tired that seeped into your bones, bordering on exhaustion tired.

When he entered his chambers everything was still and quiet. His fire had been banked, his sleeping clothes laid out on his prepared bed, the curtains were drawn and Merlin was there waiting in a chair next to the dining table.

“Merli-“

Arthur started before he realized, Merlin wasn’t waiting at all, he was asleep. Arthur slowly and quietly walked over to where Merlin was sleeping on the chair, one leg gently dangling over the chair arm and his head slumped lightly to the side resting on his shoulder.

His breathing was deep and even and Arthur noticed his face and hands were clean from the dirt of the road. His skin was pale and smooth and Arthur noted how soft Merlin’s face looked like this, with no quirk of his lips or crease in his brow. There were no worry lines and all the stress of the day was gone. Any and all traces of anger or annoyance evaporated from Arthur and he thought about how he liked Merlin when he was like this, when he was safe and warm and content.

Arthur reached down and placed one arm around Merlin’s lower back before he scooped up Merlin’s legs with his other arm and lifted him up off the chair bridal style. Merlin stirred, quietly grunting in protest at the sudden moment, half between sleep and the world of the awake.

“Shh Merlin, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.” Arthur whispered, softer and fonder than he had ever said anything else before.

“Mhmm.” Merlin hummed, before nuzzling deeper against Arthur, his head resting against his chest.

Arthur doubted Merlin knew what he was doing, but Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to care. Arthur didn’t even know what he himself was doing.

Arthur slowly carried Merlin across the room over to his bed before gently placing him down careful not to jostle him.

He sat down on the side of the bed next to him and gently unlatched the buckles on each of Merlin’s shoes before pulling them off and placing them at the foot of the bed. Arthur then reached down and pulled the sheets up over Merlin body before tucking them in around his shoulders.

Merlin rolled over in his sleep, his face turned towards Arthur, his lips slightly parted and his fringe falling down over his eyes.

Arthur felt a beat in his chest, it was pleasant and felt warm. It made Arthur think of summer and fresh fruit and mulled wine, Arthur thought he could spend a lifetime feeling this feeling even though he knew that this was only a small part of the depths of it, like dipping a toe in the ocean.

Arthur’s fatigue caught up with him and it washed over his body, his limbs like lead and his eyelids heavy. Arthur reached his hand over and brushed Merlin’s fringe out of his face.

“Sleep well Merlin.” He whispered before pressing his lips against the top of Merlin’s head, it was the lightest of touches, so small it was barely there before it was gone, leaving no trace or sign that it had even been there in the first place.

Arthur dragged his feet over to the other side of the bed and grabbed a pillow. He placed himself in the chair in front of the fire sparing one last glance back at Merlin in his bed.

He had already taken too many liberties tonight in regards to Merlin and he felt it best to not share the bed. Arthur rearranged the pillow to his liking, his body sinking lower and lower into the chair, his vision blurring. His eyes were closed and he was asleep before he had the chance to think about anything, not his father, not Merlin and certainly not his rapid heartbeat and its implications.

------

Merlin woke later in the evening the kind of way where he was awake before he realized he was. It was so uncharacteristic, because usually he would be woken by a loud rap on his door and Gaius telling him he would be late. But today he seemed to drift in between sleep and waking. His bed was softer and warmer than it had ever been, his body still ached from riding but it was a low thrum in his muscles like a pleasant burn.

As the events of that morning and their arrival at Camelot slowly stretched out before him, Merlin heard a low sound coming from across the room. Everything then clicked into place. Small signs fit together and Merlin’s bed turned into Arthur’s bed, Merlin’s room to Arthur’s. Unexpected quietness to explained quietness and vague annoyance at Arthur for his rudeness earlier turned into something akin to fondness as Merlin recounted his blurry memories of being carried to bed.

Merlin knew this was Arthur’s way of showing his apology. The prat never had been good at expressing himself after all.

Merlin slowly opened his eyes and stretched his limbs against the crisp white sheets careful not to make too much noise or disturbance. He slowly raised his body and swung his bare feet around and over the bed placing them on the cool stone floor. He grabbed his boots in one hand from where they lay on the floor before sweeping his eyes around the room.

Merlin’s eyes fell on a body sitting slumped in an armchair next to the fire. He walked over towards the chair, almost reverently, each step measured before he fully took in Arthur’s sleeping form.

Merlin was reminded of the irony that a few hours ago Merlin assumed Arthur had found him in a similar state.
Arthur’s neck was bent and Merlin was sure it couldn’t be comfortable. There was a chill in the air since night had fallen so Merlin grabbed a spare blanket from a nearby chest and draped it over Arthur’s body.

A small smile gracing his lips before he quietly left the room to get the Prince his supper.

Chapter Text

After the first ten minutes Arthur had stopped listening to his father. He picked up key phrases here and there but more of the words than not just slipped right past him. He would grunt when the other council members did and maybe hum in agreement with the councilors who had his trust spoke up, just to make it seem like he was interested or at the very least focused.

At around the thirty minute mark Arthur gave up any and all pretense of listening and sat at the council table with a bored expression on his face and let his mind wander.

Merlin was standing across the table in the corner of the room with his hands behind his back. Arthur liked to have him around during the meetings in case he ever needed something.

Not to mention it was fun, Merlin had the tendency to roll his eyes at laws or judgments he thought were stupid. It was a habit that was both hilarious for Arthur to watch and harmless so long as it was only Arthur who noticed.

Arthur half thought Merlin did it for his benefit or at the very least to force Arthur to hold back his smile after a particularly long and dramatic eye roll.

It wasn’t as fun when they discussed the punishment of sorcerers or the ban on magic however. Arthur hated when they discussed it, he could picture in his mind the way Merlin’s jaw clenched and his shoulders set. It reminded Arthur of the way men look before you lead them into battle, the ones who try to be brave knowing they might die.

His eyes always look empty and Arthur knows Merlin doesn’t think magic itself is evil, he knows that where Merlin was raised magic wasn’t banned but he can’t really know the horrors of magic. Not that Arthur’s entirely sure what he himself believes anymore.

Arthur knows Merlin doesn’t talk about magic in front of him, tries to keep his opinions to himself. Arthur supposes Merlin thinks it is kind, and in a way it is. He doesn’t want to make Arthur uncomfortable or to put him in a position he doesn’t want to be in. But Arthur has always liked that Merlin could be himself.

Arthur wonders why Merlin cares so much about those with magic, he guesses that’s just what Merlin is like. Always kind and caring, never wanting anyone to suffer.

Then Arthur wonders why he cares so much about why Merlin cares. That’s when Arthur realizes that Merlin is probably the closest thing he has to a real friend, not that he would ever tell Merlin that, or his father that, or anyone that.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks.

Arthur rapidly looks around, all the chairs are vacated and Merlin and he are the only people left in the room.

“Are you ready to go? You need to get ready for dinner with your father and Morgana.”

“Yes, of course. Let’s go.”

Arthur got up from his chair and begins walking to his chambers.

“Hmm, I think you should wear your red tunic, you always look nice in red.” Merlin stated as they walked down an empty corridor.

Arthur refused to turn to look at him as he felt his cheeks heat.

‘Merlin always looks nice in blue.’ Arthur thought followed by ‘What the fuck.’

“I look nice in everything Merlin.”  

------

Ever since the time a few days ago when Merlin woke up in Arthur’s bed, something about Arthur had been off. The first few days after, Arthur had been strangely quiet and a little distant and if not that then he had just been acting outright odd. This wasn’t all that uncommon but when Arthur was like that, there was usually a clearly discernible reason at the very least.

Merlin asked what was wrong as par their usual routine and Arthur played his part by feigning nonchalance and saying some variation of… “Nothing Merlin, don’t be an idiot.” Or “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

After the fifth or so day however, Merlin was beginning to be slightly concerned when he walked into Arthur’s chambers in the morning and found Arthur already up and dressed, staring broodingly out the window down into the courtyard.

“Wow I didn’t think you were capable of dressing yourself.” Merlin mocked lightly in an attempt to cheer Arthur up.

“Yes quite capable, thank you.” Arthur responded, tone dry and eyes locked fiercely out the window.

“Well maybe from now on I should leave you to polish your own armor, seeing how capable you are and everything.” Merlin replied, a bright smile on his face.

Arthur didn’t so much as grunt in response leaving Merlin standing in the middle of Arthur’s chambers sheepishly. Merlin sighed inwardly a deep lull of disappointment colouring his chest and a dull stab of hurt laying underneath it.

Merlin resolved himself to get on with his duties and an awkward silence descended upon the chambers. Merlin began preparing the table for breakfast, the clattering of plates and cutlery serving to slice through the quiet before fading away seeming only to amplify the desolate and empty feeling filling the room rather than diminishing it.

“Oh,” a thought popped into Merlin’s head, “Did you hear, apparently Uther is holding a festival here in Camelot for Beltane.”

“Of course I knew Merlin, I am on the council.” Arthur said dismissively.

“R-right of course… it’s just so exciting though. We would hold one in Ealdor annually before I came to Camelot and it was always the highlight of the year. To tell you the truth it was kind of disappointing the first year I was here when I realized that Camelot wasn’t-“

“Yes well, I’ve heard quite enough of your asinine conversation this morning, please go make yourself useful.”

Merlin stood there silently for a few seconds trying to stamp out the hurt at Arthur’s harsh tone and dismissive words.

“Arthur, is something the matter?” Merlin asked carefully.

“You know Merlin, I have grown rather tiresome of you constantly asking me if I am okay. I am fine but I would be a lot better if I didn’t have to put up with you day after day. Now get out.” Arthur replied unkindly.

“Arthur I am just-“

“I said get out.” Arthur spat loudly, his face bunched up in rage.

Merlin stepped back instinctively from the force of the words.

“I… Of course sire.” Merlin pushed out the words from behind the lump that formed in his throat. The words came out choky and not at all as strong as he would have liked.

Merlin turned refusing to meet Arthur in the eye and all but ran to the door, swinging it open and shutting it gently behind him before anything else could be said.

------

Arthur sat hunched over in his chair, his legs apart, elbows resting on the tops of his knees and hands clasped as he fixed his gaze on the floor. What was it about Merlin that agitated him so much recently? Merlin was the same as ever but there still seemed to be something about him that had burrowed underneath Arthur’s skin. Something that wasn’t there before or at least, wasn’t out in the open.

Ever since their return to Camelot Arthur had been sullen and any attempt to help on Merlin’s part only seemed to worsen Arthur’s state to annoyance or even anger. Arthur took a deep breath to steady himself. He felt the air swell around his lungs and he pushed away all niggling thoughts into the back of his head.

Arthur lifted himself up and out of his armchair and out of his room. He was the crown prince after all and as such had duties to attend to. He made his way down a stairwell and moved silently through the corridors of the main floor. The hallways were empty save for him until he rounded the corner and was greeted by the sight of Gwen and Morgana.

The two girls were walking side by side in a way that was most unbecoming for a lady of the court and her handmaiden. Their shoulders and sides were pressed together as they walked with each other. Morgana lent in towards Gwen’s face, whispering something lightly in her ear, Gwen’s answering smile was bright and warm and her giggles echoed out through the vacant hallways.

Morgana’s eyes widened for a fraction upon seeing Arthur before her features schooled, no doubt taking in Arthur’s manner before settling into her usual smirk.

She took a few rapid steps towards Arthur, seeping elegance and poise almost as if she were dancing more than walking. Her dark green dress billowing out behind her as she approached. Gwen dropped her eyes and took a few slow steps remaining behind Morgana as she would were they at court.

“Ah well that answers that.” Morgana said with a playful tone but a ravenous glint in her eye. It unsettled Arthur because it seemed to him that it almost looked as if she were a wolf who had found its prey.

“What are you talking about Morgana?” Arthur replied feigning boredom.

“Well you see I was wondering what on earth could have put Merlin in such a bad mood when we saw him just before and judging from the expression on your face, it was you.”

“I did nothing to Merlin.” Arthur answered, too quickly he thought. From the look in Morgana’s eyes she thought so as well.

“Hmmm,” Morgana replied. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Morgana’s eyes bore into Arthur, the cold green iris’ felt like they cut through his layers and facade as they always had. Morgana had always been able to see right through Arthur, see through the excuses and bravado in a way no one else could. No one but Merlin, Arthur supposed.

They both saw through him, never let him get away with anything, most of the time he hated it but he knew that every now and then it was necessary. They seemed to do the same thing but in very different ways, Morgana’s gaze was cutting and harsh, she told him the truth and was blunt and harsh. It was hard and unrelenting but it was not unkind. Merlin’s felt warm, if Morgana cut through Arthur’s layers Merlin peeled them back. It was understanding and firm and gentle and everything about Merlin that Arthur liked.

“Just try to take Merlin’s feelings into account.” Morgana’s words snapped Arthur out of his reverie. Morgana seemed to be speaking to Arthur on a deeper level than it may have outwardly appeared, speaking into his body and soul, deeper than he liked.

“Why should I care about the feelings of a servant?” Arthur’s words were cruel and mean and not his own, they sounded more like his fathers than his and there was a twist in his stomach as he felt them slither out from the gaps between his teeth.

Gwen’s head snapped up from where it was lowered, her eyes boring into his with such ferocity that he lowered his gaze to his feet.

“Because he is more than just your servant,” Morgana said lowly, the words small and quiet yet seemingly taking up all the space in the corridor and all the space in Arthur’s chest. “And that’s okay.”

Arthur did what he did best, he deflected and hide behind the armor he had forged from his skin.

“More than just a servant? Morgana what on earth are you talking about?” Arthur bleed in as much sarcasm as he could.

In the back of his mind he knew it made no difference but it was almost as if, if he could just make the words snarky enough, make them dripping with sarcasm and facetiousness then maybe they wouldn’t ring as true. Maybe they wouldn’t make him feel a pang of sickness in his gut.

Morgana seemed to take pity on him the only way she knew how, she turned her cutting words that rung too true and hit too hard into mocking jibes. It was a ground that the two of them knew well and Arthur felt his shoulders ease as Morgana let up, however even in her mocking there was a call back to the truth, an echo that let Arthur know that she knew what he was thinking.

“Why that you are friends of course,” Morgana replied. “What on earth did you think I meant?” Morgana said, words drenched with innocence, her mouth quirked up in a smirk.

“Regardless Arthur, I have no more time to deal with your emotionally stunted arse.”

Gwen giggled, badly covering it up behind a fake cough but Arthur thought it was sweet nonetheless and very like Gwen to try to spare his pride.

“Gwen and I are going to the stalls in the lower town, do make sure you make it up to Merlin somehow, Arthur dear.” Morgana said with a quick pat on the shoulder and a brief kiss on the cheek before scooping Gwen’s arm up in hers and dragging her down the hallway.

“Sire.” Gwen bid farewell over her shoulder before she was dragged out of sight.

Arthur was left standing there, a sinking feeling in his chest as he thought about Morgana and what she said, he thought about Merlin and his smile and the feeling rattling around his rib cage that he spent the last few days ignoring lest he feel sick with the implications and consequences that it brought.

Chapter Text

Merlin’s eyes watered at the smell, it was musty and damp. He thought that after the first hour perhaps he would get used to it. But here he was elbows deep into cleaning Gaius’ leech tank and he was still breathing heavily through his mouth.

The tips of his fingers were raw and red from scrubbing all along the glass. Splotches of green dabbed up along his arms, dried mouldy water staining his pale skin.

Merlin’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbow and his forehead covered in a light layer of sweat. He was in this state because after the disaster that was yesterday with Arthur, Merlin had decided to do whatever was necessary to ensure that he would not think about it. Even if that meant voluntarily cleaning the virtual swamp that was Gaius’ leech tank.

Gaius himself had been puzzled when Merlin volunteered to do the job, asking “You don’t have a fever do you Merlin?” as he placed his palm on Merlin’s forehead. He must have been happy with the results because he then quickly left the chambers to do his duties as court physician leaving Merlin to get started.

That however was hours ago and while Merlin was trying very hard not to think about it he was aware that sooner rather than later Arthur would be done with his training and would need Merlin to attend to him.

“Stupid moody prat, if he doesn’t want a friend then fine by me. Not like I asked to be his bloody babysitter anyway.” Merlin murmured to himself as he slowly made his way out of the chair and to the training field.

Normally he would at least attempt to clean himself up before attending to Arthur but the prat could just deal with it today, even now Merlin could picture Arthur’s face, his nose scrunching up, his mouth pouting in the way it does whenever Arthur is vaguely displeased.

As he exited the castle walls a light breeze hit Merlin’s skin, it was cool and fresh and felt good against his dirtied arms and face. The air was clean and Merlin himself felt almost like he was cleaner because of breathing it in. It circled through him and was pure and cleaned out the stale damp feeling in his chest.

The air almost tasted sweet and would have caused Merlin to smile if only he wasn’t fast approaching seeing Arthur again.

As he got closer Merlin saw Arthur across the field talking to Leon, his hair was plastered with sweat across his forehead and he had a small smile spread across his lips at something Leon had said. Arthur waved off his knights before turning towards Merlin, slowly walking over to him.

The sun hit Arthur from behind, the light framing him. Making his hair glow brighter and more golden than it already was. The brightness encircled him forming a halo. Merlin found that it took his breath away, his eyes stayed locked onto Arthur and he had to remind himself to breathe. Each breathe a conscious effort.

Perhaps more interesting than that however, was that it felt right and familiar as if he had always seen this. As if he went to bed at night and woke up every morning in a world in which Arthur was always golden and bright and warm. Merlin realized that he did.

Merlin was so lost in thought that it took until Arthur was almost right in front of him before he realized that his shoulders had become tensed and his smile tight as he approached Merlin. Merlin felt something that he might call upset at the thought of Arthur not wanting to see him and Arthur’s earlier words rang in his head.

“I would be a lot better if I didn’t have to put up with you day after day.”

He thought about apologizing but he was annoyed at Arthur more than he was upset and in that moment he had more pride than he did grace.

Arthur halted in front of him momentarily, eyes dragging up and down his form. Arthur’s nose scrunched up and he pouted his lips as he took in Merlin’s stained arms and messed hair. Merlin could have sworn he saw a slight smile tug at Arthur’s lips before he walked past Merlin up towards the direction of the castle.

“Come.”

“Yes sire.” Merlin replied voice dripping with stoicism and professional curtesy.

Merlin followed a few steps behind Arthur as they wound their way through the corridors and up the stairwells towards Arthur’s chambers, stopping only once when Arthur gently grabbed the arm of a passing maid and whispered something in her ear before she smiled, nodded and walked off.

The closer they got to Arthur’s room the more any lingering anger he felt melted away and was replaced with anxiety and tension.

When they reached the door to the prince’s chambers, Arthur pushed open the door before pausing with his door still on the handle and turning around.

“I need you to go get my meal from the kitchens.” Said Arthur, not meeting Merlin’s eye.

“Of course sire.”

Merlin turned around and walked away.

-----

Merlin made his way through the crowded hallways, dodging maids walking briskly past him with buckets of water in each hand, past nobles of the court talking lightly to each other and knights on their way to training or patrol.

Merlin walked slowly, not eager to return to Arthur’s side, not if he was going to be as irritated or indifferent as he had been the past few days.

Merlin balanced a silver tray on either arm, one containing ripe fruits, with a selection of nuts and cheeses and the other a variety of cooked and smoked meats alike.

He saw Gwen coming towards him, no doubt on her way to Morgana’s chambers. He lifted the tray of fruits out towards her and raised an eyebrow. Without even missing a beat, Gwen plucked two grapes from the bunch and popped one into her mouth before doing the same for Merlin.

“Thank you.” Merlin yelled walking backwards, the sound muffled by his chewing.

Gwen giggled before winking at Merlin.

“Anytime Merlin.” She laughed as she made her way around the corner.

Merlin continued his pace until he was in front of the door to Arthur’s bedchambers.

He quietly opened the door and made his way over to the dining table, sure to keep his eyes solely on the ground in front of him.

Merlin placed down the trays of food and arranged the cutlery before stepping back and raising his eyes to scan around the room for Arthur.

Merlin noticed the bathtub steaming in the center of the room and Arthur sitting hunched over his desk, his eyes unfocused wandering listlessly over the surface of the parchment in front of him.

“Your meal is ready sire.”

Arthur reached across and picked up a quill before dabbing it into an inkwell and writing something on what Merlin assumed would be a grain report or a report of the latest patrols, there was even a chance that it was a speech Arthur was working on for an upcoming event or visiting nobility.

Arthur usually asked Merlin to help him with his speeches, or just got him to write them entirely but Merlin supposed that Arthur wouldn’t be asking that of him this time.

There was dry scratching as Arthur dragged the quill across the parchment, the sound piercing through the eerie and heavy silence.

Arthur stood up and turned his head towards Merlin, their eyes met from a fraction of a second before Merlin lowered his gaze and Arthur walked over to the table and took his seat.

Merlin went around the room, picking up Arthur’s spoiled clothes from training and tidying the bed while Arthur sat, pushing the food on his plate back and forth with his fork.

The silence was thick and awkward and everything Arthur did he felt hyper sensitive to. He noticed every sigh and intake of breath, unable to help himself but to sneak glances every now and then to only see Arthur’s eyebrows pushed together and his forehead furrowed.

He would occasionally catch Arthur looking at him when he stole a look every few minutes as he cleaned and he could see even from afar how pained Arthur’s expression was. Merlin found that he had forgiven Arthur for yesterday, Merlin doubted there was anything that Arthur could say or do that Merlin wouldn’t forgive him for.

Merlin willed himself to be brave, he could be brave for Arthur, he had done it in the past to save his life but somehow this always scared Merlin more and he knew that him and Arthur were alike in that way. Merlin broke the silence.

“Did you need assistance with your bath sire,” Merlin was sure to keep his tone careful and pleasant as he gestured to the tub. “Or shall I just go and polish your chainmail.”

Arthur replied without looking up.

“Actually Merlin… the bath is um… for you.”

“O-Oh… I, thank you sire. That’s very kind.” Merlin said, his voice croaky and deeper than normal.

Arthur’s head snapped up and his eyes met Merlin’s.

“Yes, well look at you. You are disgusting.”

Merlin looked down at his arms to see the green murky stains covering his arms, and lifted his hand to his hair to feel the dried flaky algae stuck in his fringe.

“Also really it’s more for me than you, I really don’t want to have to smell you all day. Not to mention the prince’s manservant must at least look like he didn’t just crawl out of a swamp, we do have appearances to maintain after all…”

Arthur paused.

“Besides, I am nothing if not a benevolent leader.” Arthur finished, a slight smirk on his lips.

Try as he might to stop it, Merlin felt his lips stretch into a grin, if for no other reason than the fact that he and Arthur had exchanged more than twenty words without them turning hostile. However Merlin knew and took this gesture from Arthur for what it was, a peace offering.

Arthur kept eye contact with Merlin and his eyes were brighter and happier than Merlin had seen them in days.

“So I should just bathe… now?” Asked Merlin.

“Mhmm.”

“Okay.”

Merlin waited. Arthur stood there, a small smile on his face, looking Merlin directly in the eye.

“Um can you…” Merlin trailed off, gesturing down at himself with one arm and towards Arthur with the other.

Arthur’s face widened with realization.

“OH… right of course, sorry.” Arthur said as he turned around to sit at the table to give Merlin his privacy.

Merlin quickly undid his boots and stripped out of his clothes, glad to be free of the rough texture and soiled fabric before he rather gracelessly slid into the bathtub.

The water was hot and permeated through Merlin’s skin and muscles. Soaking deep into his joints and bones and eased the aches and strains of the past few days.

Tendrils of steam rose from the surface of the water dancing around in front of Merlin’s eyes and slipping under and around his fingers as he ran them through the air above the water.

It reminded Merlin of his days before he came to Camelot, when his world was only made up of Ealdor and Will and his Mother. It reminded him of the way the chickens they owned would slip and slide around under his feet as he did his chores in the morning, hoping for an extra scrap of meat or morsel of grain.

His world back then was always simple, he could deal in absolutes and in black and white, in a way that he couldn’t here in Camelot. To do so here was not the mature thing to do and not the smart thing to do. Merlin had learned early on in his stay at Camelot that the moral course of action was not always the right one. That to fulfil his destiny and protect Arthur that perhaps a modicum of deceit was required and that sometimes his hands would have to be sullied.

Which currently, Merlin’s hands were. Sullied that is, quite literally. He submerged his hands and pushed all deep thoughts to the back of his mind as he begun scrubbing at his arms. Figuring that testing Arthur’s new found patience by simply relaxing and not cleaning himself would perhaps be a tad presumptuous of him.

“Gosh you really are an idiot aren’t you Merlin. You don’t even know how to clean yourself properly,” Arthur said from behind him, closer than Merlin remembered him being. “Here I’ll do it.” 

Arthur’s hand fell on the top of Merlin’s head and quickly pushed him under the surface of the water. The hot clean liquid rushed up through Merlin’s nose and ears and as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

Merlin spluttered and coughed when he remerged, turning his head around sharply to look Arthur in the eye with the intent of scolding him or yelling at him or anything. But when he saw Arthur, Merlin noticed his face was soft and his eyes were warm and full of affection. He fought against a smile by biting his lower lip and his shoulders silently shook with mirth.

Merlin found he could only offer Arthur a shy smile when his laughter won out and Arthur threw his head back, barking out a laugh more like a donkey bray than a princely chuckle. It was loud and obnoxious and annoying but Merlin decided it was his favourite sound in the whole world because it was real. 

Merlin realized Arthur’s hand was still firmly placed on his head gently rubbing the water through his hair and he turned back around to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks.

“Royal arse.” Merlin muttered, tone betraying the fondness he felt.

He heard Arthur let out a low and quiet chuckle in response as he continued to gently rub his fingers through the raven strands of hair.

Arthur dipped his hands into the water before bringing them back up to Merlin’s head and gently massaging his scalp as he drew his fingers through the nest of black hair that was matted with sweat and dirt.

Merlin let out a small moan of appreciation as Arthur reached over to the small table and grabbed a small vial of scented oil before pouring a small amount into the palm of his hands. He rubbed his hands together before returning to run the oil through Merlin’s hair.

It smelled sweet to Merlin, sweet like fruit but still earthy and familiar from all the times Merlin used the exact same oil for Arthur’s baths. Merlin knew it was Arthur’s favourite and his chest felt warmer at the thought of Arthur choosing that particular scent for him.

Merlin reached his hand out the water gently and ran his fingers gingerly across the bronze rim of the tub and let his mind wander as Arthur twisted and worked his fingers deeply pressing against Merlin’s temples before running them up through his fringe.

The role reversal should have felt odd and Merlin supposed it did in some ways. Merlin was used to attending to Arthur’s needs and having to do everything for himself. But in a way it was the same as ever, it was a familiar feeling while still being new and uncertain territory.

Merlin realized it felt the same because this was just Arthur taking care of him the way he always seemed to when he needed it, or more often when Arthur deemed it needed. The only difference was this was more earnest and gentle, showing a side of Arthur which he always seemed to keep under lock and key. A side which Merlin always wished he could see more of.

Arthur’s voice snapped Merlin back to the present and Merlin realized he had closed his eyes.

“I know you need as much beauty sleep as you can get Merlin but I think it’s time to get a move on.”

Arthur passed Merlin a towel and a pile of clothes which Merlin was fairly certain were Arthur’s old ones but Arthur made no comment so Merlin just took the clothes with a knowing smile on his face.

Arthur turned to afford Merlin some privacy so Merlin quickly rose out of the bath and ducked behind the changing screen.

Merlin was drying himself when Arthur cleared his throat.

“So Merlin, yesterday you were talking about the Beltane festival… yes?”

Merlin paused whilst drying his chest, breath hitching before answering uncertainly.

“Um… yes?”

“Well I thought- uh, that- perhaps on the night of the festival we could- um perhaps go into the town to enjoy the uh festivities… and such.”

“Together?” asked Merlin.

“Unless you would rather-“

“No, No. I would lov- um yes, that would be fun.”

“Are you sure? There’s a feast at the castle the same night so you don’t have to humor me Merlin.” Arthur said annoyance clear in his voice, masking something that Merlin thought might even be hurt.

Merlin stepped out from behind the screen in clean breeches a little too loose for him and a plain white tunic. His hair was damp and curled around his ears.

Arthur was facing away with his back to Merlin so he took a couple of quick steps and gently placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder causing him to turn around so they were face to face.

“Arthur, of course I want to spend the festival with you. I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Merlin said quietly, every word bleeding sincerity.

Arthur’s expression was open and soft before his lips turned up and his eyes turned smug.

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m the prince, of course you want to spend time with me.”

Merlin sighed and half turned to walk away before Arthur gripped both of his shoulders.

“There. Much better,” Arthur said as he ruffled Merlin’s freshly cleaned hair. “Now you almost look presentable… Almost.”

“And you were almost not a prat for once… Almost.”

Arthur’s answering smile was blinding.

Chapter Text

Merlin isn’t sure what made this one so much worse than the others. Maybe it was that she was only fifteen, maybe it was because her eyes were blue like Mordred’s and her hair was curly like Gwen’s.

He had been sitting with Morgana talking about something light and inconsequential when they heard the warning bells. It took three hours for the pyre to be built. Three hours in which Morgana’s screams could be heard throughout the castle as she screeched at Uther, begged him.

Arthur had stood in the corner of the room with his eyes fixed solely on the floor beneath him.

“Aren’t you going to do anything, Arthur? She’s a child.” Morgana had yelled, but even then Arthur refused to lift his head.

Uther summoned everyone in Camelot to watch. The courtyard was filled and people lined up all along down past the portcullis and into the town. The faces of the villagers were all the same, a herd of terrified yet passive men, women and children.

She wasn’t a girl in Uther’s eyes only an example.  A precautionary tale like so many before. Merlin didn’t know why this one girl was so important, that she should be a spectacle and not the others before or the ones yet to come. Perhaps it was the severity of it, perhaps it was to show that no one was exempt.

The girl had been walking by herself on the road to Camelot when a group of three older boys jumped her, they branded pitchforks and kitchen knives, Merlin had heard from a couple of old women walking the halls of the castle as she was brought in.

The girl had used magic to protect herself when the boys tried to take her possessions, she broke their pitchforks and the boys ran away screaming.

But one of them had an elder brother who was a guard. They only lived down the street from the girl and when she went to bed that night they came for her.

Merlin had seen her mother crying at Uther’s feet pleading for her daughter’s life. She promised that they would leave Camelot and never return but Uther would not be swayed.

By the time they lit the pyre, Morgana had been locked in her chambers to teach her respect. Arthur stood on the balcony next to his father as his instructions, his face was devoid of any emotions but his eyes shined with sorrow, maybe even regret.

Merlin didn’t know what to do, he was scared and he kept telling himself he would cast a spell, that he would save her, he told himself that he would do something right up until he heard her screams cease.

Now he stood in the middle of Morgana’s room, she was laying on the bed with her head in Gwen’s lap as Gwen slowly stroked her hair through the tears. All Merlin could smell was smoke.

“I hate him Merlin, I hate him so much.” Morgana pushed out, course and scratchy through the sobs.

Merlin stepped over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Morgana as she sat up, Gwen joining in as they held her, held each other.

“It’s okay, shh, it’s okay.” Gwen reassured.

“Things will be different when Arthur is king. They have to be.” Merlin told her. Told himself.

------

When Merlin opened the door. Arthur was standing in front of the window. It was his usual place for being pensive and it almost brought a smile to Merlin’s face before he remembered that Arthur must be looking at the smoking husk of a pyre.

Merlin’s footsteps echoed loudly across the stone floors but Arthur didn’t so much as flinch, he was a statue, cold and unflinching as he had been since the girl had been brought in.

The room was a mess, because Arthur for all his proper upbringing and dutifulness seemed to think it was his right, even his role to provide Merlin with more work than he already had. So Merlin grabbed the washing basket, balanced it between his hip and one hand and roamed around the room collecting discarded jackets and soiled tunics alike.

“It wasn’t right.” Arthur broke the silence.

Merlin knew what he meant, he knew what he was talking about. But he never wanted to presume with Arthur, never wanted to be careless. So he asked anyway.

“What wasn’t right?”

“That girl, she… Gods, she was fifteen years old, Merlin.”

Arthur sounded tired, he sounded defeated and Merlin felt an ache in his bones at the words, he didn’t like the hollow ring in Arthur’s cadence or the slump in his shoulders.

“I mean she was a fucking child, Merlin, it wasn’t fair.”

Arthur spun around and walked over to Merlin, filling the distance with five quick strides before grabbing Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin dropped the basket in shock causing the clothes to spill across the floor but his focus was only on Arthur.

“It… it wasn’t right Merlin?”

Arthur was asking, he wanted confirmation that what he thought wasn’t wrong, that he wasn’t wrong for feeling this way. For not the first time and Merlin doubted the last, he felt his chest tighten at the thought of this boy being twisted up so tightly in knots because of what his father taught him his whole life to be right, being different from what he felt in his soul. 

The silence stretched on and Merlin and Arthur searched each other’s eyes. They breathed in and out together and Merlin felt the warmth seep into his body from where Arthur’s hands were tightly grasping his shoulders, almost like they were a life line. The only connection left between them. Then Merlin broke the silence.

“No,” he answered. “No, it wasn’t right.”

He poured all the certainty and absolution that he had in his body into those words and they broke something in Arthur. Arthur pulled Merlin into an embrace, it was intimate and secure and healing.

Merlin could hear the chokes in Arthur’s throat and the emotion in his voice as he asked.

“How could he do this? How could my Father think this is right? He is wrong, Merlin. My father is wrong.”

Merlin wondered if this was the first time Arthur had voiced more than just doubts about his father, if this was the first time Arthur had allowed himself to disagree with his father’s fundamental ideals and not just a situation and decision here and there. Was that even what Arthur meant now? Merlin wasn’t sure and didn’t care. He just hugged Arthur tighter and held him closer and wished that he could take all the hurt from Arthur’s body with only words but he knew he never could.

They clutched at each other and leant on each other and held each other until Arthur had stopped shaking and Merlin’s eyes were red and sore from tears, then they just stood there and held each other a little longer.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“Yes?”

“You are going to pick those up aren’t you?” Arthur nodded towards the basket of clothes on the floor.

Merlin erupted into sudden laughter and thought truly for the first time that everything was going to be alright.

Chapter Text

There had been weeks of planning and days of preparation for the Beltane festival tonight. The last three days at least, the castle had been thrumming with energy as servants ran to and fro preparing and setting up the banquet hall for the feast as well as the streets and the lower town for the festivities.

Arthur had enjoyed walking through the winding corridors and endless hallways of the castle because of the excitement that permeated through the air.

Young serving girls stood against the banisters of walkways draping ivy across the top and down the beams. They would giggle and chat but instead of blushing and averting their eyes like they usually did when Arthur neared, they simply carried on.

They were absorbed in the excitement and anticipation and it made Arthur feel almost normal, that same feeling he got when he bantered with Merlin or had his usual back and forth with Morgana.

A group of young servants ran down the halls, trailing behind them rich red fabric. One boy had it over his shoulders like a cape and as he ran Arthur saw the fierce golden dragon of the Pendragon household furl out from beneath the folds of the cloth. They danced around each other and spoke of being kings and knights and dragons.

Arthur couldn’t help but smile as the boys were reprimanded -by the steward overlooking their work- for playing games with the Camelot flag.

“Let the boys have their fun, no harm done.” He assured the steward when his eyes warily regarded Arthur as he passed.

Arthur enjoyed looking through the windows and watching as the squires prepared for the tournament, working hard in padded tunics with blunt swords. There were no grudges, or bloodshed but plenty of pats on the back and triumphant smiles. They would laugh and roll around in the dry grass and Arthur remembered when he did the same.

He passed Morgana and Gwen carrying baskets of flowers down to the lower town stalls, maybe for decoration, maybe to sell. They talked and smiled and laughed and Arthur was glad to see Morgana truly smile, not the one she wore when they were with Uther. The smile that was pulled tight over her face and never quite reached her eyes.

Gwen plucked a small white flower from her basket, reached a hand over and brushed a raven strand of hair from Morgana’s face before placing it behind her ear. If Arthur didn’t know Morgana better he could have sworn she had blushed.

He would wonder through the kitchens in the middle of the day; even approaching the doorway into the kitchen, the heat could be felt radiating out. The aroma of the food made Arthur’s mouth water and he enjoyed watching the cooks dance around each other. They held platters of mushroom and rabbit pies, cauldrons of venison stew hung on hooks above a fire, there were fig and walnut cakes cooking on the hot stones of the stove and plum tarts cooling by the window sill. 

This was Arthur’s favorite thing about being prince and about ruling. It was only times like this when there was a festival or a tourney, when there were visiting royals from another kingdom that he really got to enjoy it, when he could roam through the castles all but unnoticed, when he could see his people doing what they enjoyed and living their lives.

Arthur wandered the halls aimlessly, appreciating the serenity and lack of urgency that due to his position was rarely afforded to him when he saw Merlin. Merlin was walking along smiling happily in the courtyard below as he talked to a middle aged woman. He bent down and pulled a sack of vegetables from her hand before hefting it over his shoulder and walking along beside her.

A small girl ran over to Merlin and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. Merlin lent down as the girl whispered something in his ear to which he smiled and nodded heartily in response. He got down on one knee and lifted the girl up onto his shoulders, careful to hold onto her leg with one hand and the vegetables with the other before quickening his steps to keep up with the woman who was smiling back at them.

Arthur could hear the little girl’s laughter echo out in the open courtyard and bounce around off the stones. Even from a distance Merlin’s smile was felt like a physical blow to Arthur’s stomach and took all the wind from his lungs.

Arthur caught the feeling fluttering around in his chest, the same feeling that had been there for months unknown, for weeks in the back of his mind. He caught it in his hand and turned it over. What was it about Merlin? What did he feel about Merlin? He was an idiot for certain. He was also a friend, he was the closest friend Arthur had, but there was something different, maybe something more. A possibility of something deeper, a question that Arthur needed an answer to.

------

The food had been prepared, the decorations set and the sun was about to set meaning the bonfire would be lit and the feasting and making merry could begin. But first Arthur had to get dressed.

He didn’t know why he was taking so long, he had seen Merlin earlier today, he knew for a fact Merlin had seen every single item of clothing Arthur owned. But for some asinine, illogical reason, Arthur stood in front of his cabinet door in breeches and barefoot.

He stared at his tunics the same way he might an enemy soldier or Morgana, because really weren’t they the same thing. He stared as if, if he stared hard enough they would give him the answers he needed. Answers to questions like… What outfit should I wear? Which if he was completely honest was more realistically, which tunic would Merlin like? But that was a bit too pathetic to even put into thoughts, for Arthur anyway.

Arthur’s pulsed raced and his nervousness bubbled up under his skin, it was not something he was used to in day to day life, but it was not completely unpleasant. It was hot under his skin and almost felt electric in nature.

“Your majesty.” Gwen opened the door slowly.

Gwen turned to face Arthur and her eyes gradually widened in shock and embarrassment as she regarded a shirtless Arthur.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Gwen quickly spun around. “I had no idea, I should have knocked first before coming in. I really am sorry believe me that was the last thing I wanted to see…” Gwen stammered.

“Oh not that you are unpleasant to look at I mean, quite the opposite in fact. You are indeed very handsome and um… fit… Sire.”

Arthur smirked as he imagined Gwen’s eyes widen impossibly further and as she begun to stammer out another apology that Arthur had no doubt would end up with her rambling even further, he decided it best to take pity on her.

“Guinevere, please what have I told you about calling me by my titles. Please just call me Arthur, I do like to consider you a friend after all.” Arthur said as he shrugged on his white sleeping tunic before turning Gwen around so they were facing each other.

“Of course.”

“Was there something you needed Guinevere?”

“No… I just saw Merlin bounding down the halls before,” a small smile spread across her lips as she recalled the memory. “I just wanted to say I think it’s nice of you to… spend time with him. He’d never say it but he admires you really.”

Arthur chuckled. “No, I imagine he would call me a clot pole instead, or some other abhorrent excuse for an insult.”

“Maybe an arrogant twat.” Gwen suggested before snickering.

“Or a royal arse.” Arthur laughed.

Arthur and Gwen chuckled breathlessly for a few seconds, pausing meeting each other’s eye before starting again.

“You know, you’re good for him I think… he’s never as happy as he is than when he’s around you.” Gwen raised her eyes slowly up to Arthur’s, as if she were unsure where she stood or if she had crossed a line.

“We drive each other mad, Gwen.” Arthur offered in resistance, eye brow raised.

“Sometimes,” Gwen conceded. “But it’s rarely serious… You know I think he is good for you as well. He makes you less of a… prat.” She replied, mirth in her eyes, playfully mocking Merlin.

“Well it’s not as if his company is a chore or completely unenjoyable.”

Gwen smiled at Arthur’s admission; sometimes Morgana’s smile could be cruel or mocking and sometimes Merlin’s could be defiant or cheeky but Arthur realized that Gwen’s were only ever really, at their core, kind.

“Of course, if you tell him that I will deny it till I am dead in the ground and have you placed in the stocks until you are an old woman.” Arthur towed the line between joking and seriousness as best he could.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sire.” She smiled to herself. “I need to get dressed for Beltane, can’t keep Morgana waiting. I’ll take my leave if it pleases your majesty.”

Gwen waited for a nod from Arthur before she turned around and walked to the door. Gwen had grasped the door handle and was holding it half open when Arthur called out.

“You’re good for her as well you know… it’s been years since I’ve seen her this happy. There was a time when I thought I would never see her actually smile again. Not like she used to.” Arthur refused to look up from where his eyes bored down into his cupboard.

“Wear the red tunic,” Arthur’s eyes snapped up at the sound of Gwen’s voice. She still faced the door and the setting sun cast her side profile in shadows but Arthur could she her lips curling into a happy smile. “Merlin always gets a vacant happy look on his face when you wear red.”

Gwen pulled the door open.

“Arthur.” She nodded in farewell before closing the door behind her.

Arthur grabbed his favorite red tunic.

Chapter Text

“Come on, let’s go this way.” Arthur pointed towards a set of stalls in the lower town before taking off in their direction.

The setting sun was casting a warm and golden light on the streets of Camelot. The light cast long shadows across the cobbled road and lulled Merlin into contentment as Arthur dragged him from stall to stall, vender to vender.

Each stall was decorated and impressive in their own rights, there were everything from weapons, to flowers, freshly baked pies and pastries. There were merchants who sold trinkets from other lands, maps or jewellery.

There were iron braziers periodically down the streets, slowly burning, ready to provide warmth and light to festival-goers and shoppers through a no doubt, long night.

Merlin gaze drifted between the items on the table in front of him, a small silver ring that reminded him of the one Arthur wore on his index finger, a pair of green earrings the colour of Morgana’s favourite dress.

He reached his hand out and trailed his fingers gently along the edge of a small wooden amulet, it had ornate carvings detailed into the side and around the edges. They were swirls and leaves and they crept into the centre of the pendent before forming a circle just in the middle.

Arthur used his upper arm and bumped into Merlin. Merlin turned to look at Arthur badly covering his smile with a glare before raising his eyebrows in question.

“Let’s keep going Merlin, all the good stuff is this way.” Arthur pushed Merlin away from the stall and towards the road.

“How could you possibly know that? You haven’t even been to a Beltane festival before,” Merlin said accusingly as he kept walking. “I should be the one deciding where we go.”

Arthur scoffed as he ran to catch up with Merlin and they continued walking down the street. “Now that’s just ludicrous.”

“And why is the idea so preposterous exactly?”

“My, that’s a big word for you Merlin.”

“Don’t avoid the question you pillock.” Merlin punched Arthur lightly in the arm.

“It is preposterous Merlin… because… well because, I always decide where we go.” Arthur replied.

“Just because something always happens one way doesn’t mean its right you know. I happen to think you could benefit from listening to someone else every once in a while.” Merlin said as they rounded a corner and came across a different set of stalls.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Merlin and Arthur turned around to see who had spoken. Morgana and Gwen were walking hand in hand. Morgana had on a relatively simple dress for the king’s ward and her hair was done in a long braid. She had flowers weaved throughout the braid and they spread out into the back of her hair, stopping just behind her ears.

Merlin thought she looked softer, but even all the flowers in the world couldn’t take away from the sharpness of her features or the mischievous nature of her smirk.

Gwen was dress in a rose coloured dress, with her hair loose unlike in the bun she usually donned for her duties. Gwen also had flowers but unlike Morgana’s they formed a full circlet around her head. 

Before Arthur could reply indignantly to Morgana’s slight, Merlin jumped in by complimenting the ladies and appealing to Arthur’s chivalry.

“You both look beautiful… don’t they Arthur?”

Gwen blushed. Morgana smirked knowingly and Arthur swallowed painfully before replying.

“Why yes, Guinevere you look radiant as always. Morgana you look… floral.”

“Thank you Arthur, Merlin.” Gwen replied. “You both look rather dashing as well.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t clean up completely terrible does he?” Arthur joked as he reached over and ruffled Merlin hair causing Merlin to scowl, Arthur to laugh, Gwen to giggle and Morgana to get a glint in her eye that Merlin entirely did not like.

“Almost perfect… Just missing on small thing.” Morgana said as she plucked a small blue flower from her hair and reached over to place it behind Merlin’s ear.

“There, now you’re perfect.” Morgana smirked. Why was she smirking?

Merlin must have had a strange look on his face because he felt a reassuring hand on his, before Gwen said. “You look very handsome Merlin.”

Merlin turned around to Arthur expectantly, ready for a mocking jibe calling him a girl or Arthur asking Morgana if Merlin was the only one that got a token of her affection. But instead he found Arthur looking at him with a soft smile on his face, it was gentle and calm and unguarded.

Merlin felt his cheeks heat and his chest begin to beat harder. He pulled his gaze down before offering a shy hesitant smile in return.

Arthur’s smile grew into a large grin, the grin splitting his face and showing off his teeth, they were slightly crooked and gave character. They made the prince, with all his diplomatic smiles and well-tailored tunic; they made Arthur, with all his chivalrous nature and self-sacrificing nature, seem a little more real, a little more raw. They aligned the Arthur who was constantly messy and threw goblets at Merlin, with the Arthur who defied his father to cure his servant or willingly drank a goblet of poison for his friend and kingdom.

Arthur turned to Gwen and Morgana. “If you will excuse us ladies, Merlin and I have a festival to see and Merlin has promised to show me all the sights.” Arthur turned back to Merlin expectantly.

“You… I’m deciding where we go?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Arthur asked.

“I mean you do hate giving up control to be honest.”

“Merlin…” Arthur sighed. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Morgana’s laughter pierced through the conversation, reminding the boys that they weren’t alone.

“Well I hate to interrupt but we are leaving… I want to see if I can get Gwen drunk.” Morgana waggled her eyebrows at the last word. “You boys go have fun.”

“Oh Morgana.” Gwen playfully tapped Morgana on the upper arm before the girls bid farewell and walked off into the night.

There was a few beats of silence before Arthur broke the silence.

“Shall we then?” Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes.

Merlin felt his face stretch into a grin.

“Lead the way, Merlin.” Arthur extended his elbow out towards Merlin for him to take.

Merlin looped his arm around Arthur’s and pulled him a step closer before dragging him towards where beating drums could be heard just in the distance.

------

Arthur let himself be dragged along by Merlin. Merlin’s fingers firmly wrapped around his wrist, five warm digits that radiated warmth out but zeroed Arthur’s world down to that small space between the cuff of his tunic and his own hand.

Arthur had walked the streets of Camelot far longer than Merlin, he didn’t need to be led by his hand like a child but he found himself not wanting Merlin to let go. He found himself willing to go anywhere, he found himself smiling when Merlin would look back at him as if to check he was still there, felt his heart go warm when Merlin would point and smile at things he found interesting.

Merlin pushed them through the crowds towards the tavern, he sat them down at a table in the back, it was crowded and hot but people were laughing and dancing. Arthur saw people betting gold on who would pass out first in drinking contests between knights and peasants and friends.

He heard singers and bards and minstrels as they sang songs and told tales, tales about brave knights and fair maidens, witches and wizards, kings and dragons and magic. Some sang of betrayal and heartbreak but Arthur decided he preferred the ones about love and honor, if for no other reason than because those were the ones that made Merlin smile the brightest.

He even heard some tales of his own heroism and mighty deeds and he realized Merlin was there for every single one, he found himself wishing that the storytellers would tell it that way.

They drank spiced wine and ale and ate fruit pies and chicken that had not enough herbs and seasoning for Arthur’s taste but he enjoyed it enough. They ate to keep up their strength because Merlin assured Arthur it would be a long night and they would need it.

Merlin brought Arthur to the outskirts of the town, the villagers had gathered on mass and there where all kinds of games and contests, many Arthur knew from his childhood and some he didn’t.

There were people playing Knucklebones and Nine Man’s Morris. Tables where people played dice and bet on wrestling matches and duels with quarter staves.

The matches took place on a wooden beam resting on top of two barrels, with a makeshift fence of rope tied around sticks place in the ground designed to separate the cheering crowd from whoever was dueling. 

Arthur fought and won against a drunken villager but to be fair he had hardly even needed to do anything, the man practically fell off the beam on his own.

Merlin and Arthur both played a game of Horseshoes, trying to hit the target with as many horseshoes as they could. Merlin, for being the clumsiest person Arthur had ever met, did remarkable well. Arthur however did better and got a wooden pendent with a craving of the Camelot dragon in the middle and vines circling the outside.

Arthur turned to Merlin with a smug smile as he slipped it over his head and proudly beamed at his reward. Merlin, as it turned out, was a sore loser and responded with a petulant pout.

“Well if you are going to be a baby about it.” Arthur said as he reached into his satchel and pulled out the pendant he bought earlier after he saw Merlin looking at it.

“I- Uh… When did you even?” Merlin was asked in surprise his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Oh when you had your back turned.” Arthur answered flippantly. “Here, this one’s for you.”

Merlin shook his head as Arthur reached his hand out to give it to him.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.” He tried.

“Merlin, don’t be an idiot… I am a prince, I have much nicer amulets than this.”

“But I-“

Arthur interrupted. “Merlin, shut up.” Merlin smiled. “Just… just take it.”

Merlin made no comment but slowly nodded his head, keeping his eyes locked with Arthur’s and a shy smile on his face. Arthur slowly reached up and brought the string of the amulet over Merlin’s head before letting go and regarding the pendant now resting around Merlin’s neck.

“There… now we have matching pendants to remember this fine day.” Arthur joked as he grabbed his own trinket hanging around his neck.

But when he looked up from his hand he saw Merlin’s face was soft with affection. It made him look warm and understanding, empathetic and clement and sweet and everything that Arthur already knew him to be.

The way Merlin was looking at him made him feel like Merlin was seeing everything Arthur had spent his entire life hiding, the part of him that was always striving for better, to be loved, to be accepted, the part that scared him with how far he would go and what he was willing to give to finally be everything expected of him. Arthur cleared his throat.

“Where to next?” he asked, eager to go.

Merlin smiled and grabbed his hand, they weaved through crowds of people and Arthur could see the glow and feel the heat of a giant fire. The orange glare bleed through the cracks between the masses of swarming villagers, between boys playing games and girls dancing to the solid beat of drum piercing through the chatter and murmur of the festival. 

They pushed through to the front of the crowd and there Arthur saw the two biggest bonfires he had ever seen sitting side by side. They were as tall as some of the buildings in the lower town and Arthur watched as villagers of all types led their cattle and livestock between the two fires to bless them for the oncoming year.

Musicians playing drums and lyres and flutes sat in the grass and played songs that sounded sweet and made Arthur think of summer. The younger townspeople were dancing around near the bonfires and the elderly sat around the edges and chatted amiably and laughed and pointed.

Arthur saw Gwen dancing around with a handful of children, she held hands with two young girls and span around in circles and laughed with them. She kissed a young boy no older than four when he present her with a flower and allowed him to take her hands and step on her feet as she danced him around.

Morgana sat on the outskirts, her dress folded underneath her like a lady and laughed with a group of older women, she smiled wistfully as she watched Gwen dance and after a time went to join her.

Beyond the fires where the cornfields and beyond that Camelot’s vast farmland. There was a warm gentle wind blowing and as it swept through the cornstalks swayed and looked as if they were dancing.

Merlin bumped Arthur in the shoulder. “Come on, let’s see what you got eh?” He gestured towards the dancing.

“Oh you have got to be kidding.” Arthur replied dryly.

Merlin’s eyes crinkled around the edges as he laughed and Arthur decided that was his favorite of Merlin’s laughs.

“What afraid you might lose..? Cabbage head.” Merlin mocked as he slowly walked backwards towards the dancing.

“Oh I’ll show you who’s afraid.” Arthur ran after Merlin.

They ran to Gwen and Morgana but eventually lost them to the crowd, the beat pulsed through Arthur’s bones and he felt it in his blood. He danced and laughed and drank with Merlin. They circled each other and danced with children that ran up and maids and friends and other knights but the two always stayed within arm’s length.

They looped and ran around the bonfires more times than they could count and the night slowly stretched on, the children fell asleep and their parents carried them to bed, the elderly tired and then home leaving the night and the making merry to the young.

Merlin danced the way he lived his life, it was a little clumsy, his limbs a little too long but it was endearing and drew you in and Arthur thought it enchanting and made his pulse race. He smiled and laughed as he danced and his fringe plastered to his forehead with sweat and Arthur noticed that he never seemed to want to stop.

It was still pleasantly warm - hot even with the fire – into the early hours of the morning. Even with the late hour the music was still loud, the dancing energetic and the drinks flowing.

Arthur paused his dancing as he looked out at his subjects and smiled to himself thinking about his people and their fortitude and spirit.

Merlin lent in towards Arthur’s ear and whispered. “Slowing down already old man?”

Merlin’s breath ghosting over the shell of Arthur’s ear sent a shiver down the back of his spine and maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was Merlin but the words took longer than normal to sink in.

Merlin was wearing an idiotic smirk on his face that Arthur was equal parts annoyed and amused by. Arthur playful shoved Merlin and laughed before Merlin shoved him back, hard enough to make Arthur fall back onto the ground.

Merlin thought that was hilarious and doubled over, clutching his stomach as his laughs came out breathless and airy.

“Oh I am going to enjoy this.” Arthur said as he started to push himself off the ground, a malicious grin on his face.

Merlin raised his head, and as soon as he saw the look on Arthur’s face, stopped laughing and bounded off the other direction and through the cornfield.

Arthur gave chase the heat and light of the fires fading away into the distance. They sped through rows and rows of corn, each zooming past. Arthur realized Merlin was faster than he looked but Arthur had training and wasn’t weighed down by his chain mail as usually happened when they were running.

Arthur could hear Merlin’s breathless laughter as he dodged and wheezed until finally Arthur reached out and tugged on the back of Merlin’s tunic.

In a flash of limbs and dust they were both tumbling on the dusty ground, their tired limbs faintly aching and their diaphragms fit to burst from the loud guffaws and giggles bringing life to the silent cornfield.

Arthur ended landing on top of Merlin, their bodies pressed against each other as Arthur pinned Merlin’s hands above his head.

“There… got you.” Arthur whispered in between gaping breaths filling his lungs with much needed air.

Merlin chuckled and smiled as he wriggled underneath Arthur in vague insincere attempts to escape.

As he stretched his head to the side and looked around the tendons in his neck pulled tight, moonlight streamed in from above and glowed on his pale skin, hitting his sharp cheekbones and Arthur found himself breathless for an entirely different reason.

“Yeah...” Merlin turned his head to face Arthur and looked him straight in the eye. His lips fell from a wild untamed grin to a small quiet smile, more private and serious. “You got me.”

They were whispering even though they were in a world completely alone, entirely theirs.

The music was a quiet murmur in the distance, barely noticed as they stayed laying, faces inches apart.

Arthur didn’t know how he had never put it into words, how he had never noticed. But looking at Merlin now, his eyes gleamed blue or cerulean or teal or every other colour Arthur could think of, one moment they were the sky and the next they were the sea. One moment they were the colour of Merlin’s favourite shirt then the next they were the colour of the flowers that Merlin would pick and put in Arthur’s room whenever Arthur was feeling alone, not that he ever mentioned it.

He knew Merlin could be somewhat handsome, or dashing or good looking, but this was the first time he saw him and thought it, the first time Arthur realized Merlin was beautiful. It wasn’t a beauty he had ever seen, it was ethereal and sharp, it was all hard lines and softness and every other paradox and contrast he could think of.

Merlin’s lips were full and parted and looked warm and plaint, they made Arthur breathe heavy and his heart beat faster and he wanted nothing more than to press his lips up against Merlin’s. They laid still for an eternity, their breathing and heartbeats louder than the festival that seemed so long ago. Merlin’s eyes were open, his pupils wide and Arthur wanted so much to know what he was thinking.

Arthur’s voice was hoarse and thick when he broke the silence.

“You’ve ah… got,” Arthur brought his hand up to Merlin’s face and ran his thumb along the line of Merlin’s cheekbone, rubbing at a smear of dirt. He smiled at the small flower still in Merlin’s hair after all this time.

“… Some dirt there.” Arthur finished after a heavy gap.

Arthur moved his face almost imperceptibly closer and Merlin’s breath hitched. Arthur pulled back.

“I should retire.” Arthur’s voice sounded thick and choked and forced. “I have duties to attend to in the morning.”

Merlin’s face fell and his smile was sad before it pulled tight.

“I…” Merlin sighed. “Yes, of course. As do I.”

“Indeed you do, my room as it happens is a right mess.” Arthur said as haughtily as he could. He wanted Merlin to smile again. It worked, Merlin’s face lit up.

“Of course it is… ‘Good ole Merlin will clean it up, don’t you worry. Let’s just leave all this mess to Merlin.’” Merlin used his Arthur impression as he spoke, which consisted with him putting on what he called a ‘posh voice’ and pouting his lips out. Arthur loathe to admit it thought it was a little adorable and not completely inaccurate.

“Typical prat mentality.” Merlin finished.

Arthur stood up before offering a hand to help Merlin up. They walked slowly back towards the castle, they fell back into their dynamic and if Merlin blushed and Arthur smiled when they brushed hands or bumped shoulders, neither of them let on. They insulted and laughed right up until they were outside the doors to the physician’s chambers.

Merlin wrung his hands in front of him and scuffed his boots against the floor, blatantly not looking Arthur in the eyes.

Arthur realized that while Merlin never had any trouble telling Arthur when he was being unreasonable or unfair and always wanted to talk about what Arthur was feeling or being upset by, he never seemed to willingly talk about what he thought or felt.

Arthur supposed they might be more alike in that way than he thought. He knew Merlin kept things close to his chest, that he had secrets. But Arthur knows Merlin, knows who he is as a person and wants to know everything there is to know about him.

Merlin raised his head and looked at Arthur.

“Thanks for tonight… It was the most fun I’ve had since… well probably ever if I’m honest.”

“I didn’t ruin it by being a… dollop head?” Arthur asked.

“Shockingly no.” Merlin smiled. “I guess you were on your best behaviour.”

“I guess so.” Arthur conceded.

“I mean hey if you want to extend that beyond tonight, I would be very grateful, not even me, the whole world would be grateful really.” 

“Merlin.” 

“Shut up?” Merlin guessed.

“You guessed it.” Arthur turned to walk away.

“Arthur.” Merlin called out. He hesitantly walked up to Arthur and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, when he pulled away he was blushing furiously and Arthur was speechless.

Merlin walked back to the door to Gaius’ and pulled it open before turning back around.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Merlin.” Arthur responded with a smile pulling on the corner of his lips.

Merlin walked through the door and quietly pulled the door close behind him.

Arthur beamed all the way back to his chambers.

Chapter Text

Merlin was in a good mood, a shockingly good mood if one were to look at the facts. His limbs were sore from dancing, his body slow from lack of sleep and his head throbbed. On any other morning this would be the perfect recipe for Merlin having a perpetual scowl on his face, a sharp comment ever ready on his tongue and a figurative rain cloud over his head – he would conjure a literal one but seeing as sorcery was illegal he usually decided against.

This morning however he just couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than happy, the day was warm, he had a hearty breakfast, and Arthur had smiled at him in the morning and blushed when they stared too long.

Even now as Merlin sat on the floor of Arthur’s chambers, washing the floor, Merlin whistled lightly to himself. He whistled a song he recognized from last night that his mother used to sing to him as he dunked a cloth rag into a bucket of water and then dragged the wet cloth across the smooth stone floor. He drew patterns with the moisture and hummed along as he went.

Merlin marvelled at how one night could seem to change so much when outwardly nothing had changed at all.

He wondered about how his chest could feel lighter than it had in years, before the destiny and pyres and Arthur. Sometimes he thought about whether he would trade his life for the one he used to hold. He would ask himself on nights when he could feel Morgana slipping ever so slightly towards Morgause, the days when Uther cut off the head of someone whose only crime was existing. It was in those times he would question if he would be happier and more content living in Ealdor. He always found his answers in moments like now, in quiet chores and Gwen’s smile, in the fire inside Morgana and in the times Arthur was unguarded, that Merlin knew he would never give up this life, these people, Arthur. Not for anything.

“You look much too chipper for someone cleaning floors.” A voice rang out through the silence.

Merlin craned his head over his shoulder to see Morgana close the door to the corridor behind her and make her way over to a chair by the table. She seemed to glide as always and slide down into the chair before turning her attention to Merlin.

“What can I say? It’s a marvellous day.” Merlin smiled in return, placing his rag in the bucket and climbing off his knees.

Merlin walked over to Arthur’s closest, retrieved a clean tunic and used it to wipe his wet hands and forearms before folding it back up and placing it back inside the cabinet. He looked at Morgana who had her eyebrows raised and brought his finger to his lips to make a shushing motion before walking over and sitting down next to Morgana.

“Yes well, we all know why you think it’s a marvellous day.” Morgana stated.

“Morgana I-“

“And before you even think about playing dumb, Arthur had the exact same idiotic grin on his face so don’t think you’re fooling anyone but yourselves.” Morgana interrupted disinterestedly, but Merlin could see the affection in her eyes and creeping in at the corner of her lips.

“Morgana… you know we’re just friends.” Merlin denied, until yesterday he whole heartedly believed it, now he was less sure. Merlin had always felt strongly for Arthur, but the feelings he had, he always equated to destiny, a kinship born of fate and a need to protect him. Granted the appreciation of Arthur’s physical form over the years, had been somewhat harder to assign as a by-product of fate and always seemed to err more on the side of humanity than destiny.

“Merlin, I actually am not here to talk about you and Arthur’s obliviousness…” There was a heavy silence. “I have to tell you something.”

Merlin knew she was serious, he could feel the crackling in the air around him, her magic wisping off her skin in licks, usually airy, now dense. His magic felt solid and thick in his veins in anticipation as he slowly nodded for her to continue.

Morgana set her shoulders straight and looked him straight in the eye when she told him, because that was who she was. “I’ve decided to tell Arthur about my magic.”

Merlin thought he should feel surprised, but in the moment she told him he felt more than anything worried for her and for himself, remorse for Arthur at the revelation he was likely going to face, and a small part of him was relieved that Morgana was going to be the one to break Arthur’s trust first, his trust and likely his heart.

“Morgana… I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Merlin’s body and voice felt stiff and stifled, even to his own ears.

“Perhaps it would be best if you waited-“

Morgana scoffed.

“Waited? For what? I can’t wait anymore Merlin. I won’t. When Morgause asked me to help overthrow Uther, I said no because you and Gwen promised me, we would work this out together. That I just needed to be patient and wait. But I won’t do nothing anymore.” Morgana stood from her chair and began pacing back and forth across Arthur’s chambers.

“It’s just such a risk Morgana.” Merlin tried to reason.

“I’m not going to tell him about you. Your precious secret is safe, if that’s what you’re so worried about.” Morgana’s voice turned to venom as it always.

“I’m worried about you.” Merlin said more forcefully. “Why now? Why not wait for when Arthur is king?”

“Because Merlin we have a chance to change Arthur’s mind on magic before he becomes king. If he won’t accept me now then he won’t accept me when he is king either.” Morgana’s voice became deeper and Merlin looked down at the table in front of him, tracing the knots in the wood with his eyes.

“I can’t sit by and wait for a reality that might not come to pass. Not when magic users everywhere are suffering at the hands of tyranny.”

She paused.

“And if he doesn’t accept you?” Merlin asked.

Morgana walked over to the window and peered down, she stood there with her back to Merlin, silent for so long that Merlin almost asked the question again.

“If Arthur can’t accept me… then at least I know not to sit around wasting my time, hoping he will be a better man than his father. If he won’t accept me, then I’m leaving.”

She didn’t need to say it, Merlin already knew, he had always known.

“You’ll go to Morgause.” It wasn’t a question.

Morgana nodded, her back still to Merlin.

“And what about me? What about Gwen? What about your friends here in Camelot? You would turn against all of us as well?” Merlin hadn’t meant to sound bitter but it seeped in through his teeth and burrowed out through his tongue.

“If Arthur can’t accept magic, the same way that Uther can’t… then more drastic measures are required.” Her voice sounded cold and remorseless.

‘Drastic measures’, the term almost made him laugh from how idiotic it seemed. That was until he imagined burning villages, friends fighting friends in the name of freedom and good people losing themselves to a fight that started out for all the right reasons before they drowned their homeland in blood.

“I will always be grateful to you Merlin, you showed me my magic wasn’t something to be ashamed of. You will always be my friend. And Gwen… I- I love Gwen. She means more to me than anyone.”

Merlin knew Morgana felt this way, knew Gwen felt the same. Even if neither one had ever said it to him, he still knew, but the admission made him smile either way. Morgana and Gwen weren’t destined to be together, they had simply found each other, throughout everything else in this world they chose each other and in some ways Merlin thought that more precious than destiny.

“But I can’t let what I want get in the way of the needs of an entire people.” Morgana turned around, tears in her eyes and Merlin knew she had made up her mind.

“I can’t do nothing, Merlin.” She sounded desperate, like she needed him to understand.

He stood up and grasped her hand.

“I know. It’s okay.” He pulled her into a hug. “I understand.”

But he needed her to understand something as well. Morgana was kind and brave and a thousand other things. Morgana was Merlin’s friend. But for everything that Morgana was – beautiful and clever – Arthur was more, and if it ever became a choice between the two… well there wasn’t much of a choice.

He felt sick saying the words. “Morgana… If it comes down to it… I will stop you.”

Morgana chuckled.

“I know... You’ll try anyway.”

Merlin laughed as they pulled apart from their embrace. He wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Come on Merlin, do you really have so little faith in Arthur? He may be an idiot but he’s a kind one.” Morgana joked.

Morgana was right, Merlin knew she was right. But he had lived his whole life with secrets, his own and others. The implications of them being free made his stomach drop and his heart beat faster. He prayed that everything would be okay.

------  

Merlin did this sometimes, he would mindlessly hum as he did his chores. Sometimes when Merlin would get caught up in what he was doing, or when it seemed to be unusually tranquil and quiet, Merlin would forget himself and sing… Those were Arthur’s favorite times.

Merlin was sitting at the dining table polishing Arthur’s chainmail, his deft thin fingers darting back and forth over the links with a rag. The tune he was humming was something familiar to Arthur and it made him feel calm, he hid his smile whenever Merlin’s eyes darted up, almost if to check that Arthur was still sitting by his desk reading.

Arthur thought back to the night of the festival and specifically the end of the night. Was that kiss on the cheek just a farewell? Did it mean something? Could it mean something? Should it? A few weeks ago Arthur’s answer would be no, but now he found himself wishing it could, wishing it would.

Merlin found his way into Arthur thoughts more than he ever had before, more than anyone ever had. More than was seemly for the Crown Prince of Camelot. But for all the breaches of conduct and potential faux pas, he found himself unable to care as he thought he would.

Arthur needed to talk to Merlin about the night of the festival, about everything that followed. He resolved himself to speak when there was a sharp rap at the door before it was swung open.

“Arthur, I need to speak to you.” Morgana stated, foregoing a greeting.

“Well hello to you as well Morgana.” Arthur replied without lifting his head, saying it only to be contrary.

Morgana ignored him and turned to Merlin.

“Merlin could you leave us alone for a minute.” She sang in a sweet voice seemed reserved for only Merlin and Gwen.

That caught Arthur’s attention. What could Morgana wish to discuss that Merlin couldn’t hear, if it was about his father, Morgana would be shouting it from the rooftops, uncaring of who overheard about her grievances.

Merlin cast a fleeting worried glance towards Arthur before dropping his voice and saying to Morgana, “Now?” when she nodded he asked, “Are you sure? I can stay if you’d like?”

Now that was interesting. Did Merlin know what was going on?

“No, that’s fine. I’ll catch up with you later, Merlin.” There was a reassuring softness in her tone and a pleading in her eyes that was uncommon but not out of place for Morgana, and it seemed to placate Merlin.

He left the room in silence, casting an anxious expression over his shoulder, first on Morgana, before settling on Arthur, and then shutting the door behind him.

Then they were alone, there was a strange tension in the air and it set Arthur slightly on edge, it felt like the whole world had shifted minutely on its axis, small enough so it wasn’t overtly noticeable but just left the world feeling slightly different from before.

“Well,” Arthur broke the silence. “We’re alone. What did you want to discuss.”

Arthur didn’t look up, still at his desk, almost afraid of what he would see.

“Arthur I have something I need to tell you.” Morgana said carefully.

“Go right ahead then.” He fiddled with the corners of a parchment.

“Arthur… I-I have, magic.” Her voice as calm.

She had gotten him, set him on edge for a joke, he should have known. He got up from his chair and walked over to the table as he spoke.

“Oh ha ha, Morgana. Okay, you got me.”

“Arthur…” her voice was choked.

Then he turned to look at her for the first time. Even through all of Morgana’s layers, all her walls, Arthur could see the tension in her body. It was in the stiffness of her limbs and the badly concealed fear in her eyes. He felt his stomach drop.

“Don’t- Don’t be stupid, Morgana.”

Morgana stood there motionless.

“You’re not a... a witch, that’s stupid.”

Still Morgana said nothing. But she looked at Arthur with a look in her eyes that he hadn’t seen since they were children and Morgana had ruined her favorite gown and thought Uther was going to be mad, or when she broke her arm falling off her horse, or when she first realized that her father was never coming back for her and climbed into Arthur’s bed and cried. It was then that he knew it was true.

His eyes widened and on reflex he grabbed for his sword laying on the table behind him. Before he could realize what he was doing, Morgana’s eyes flashed gold and his sword was thrown across the room. There was no denying the truth now, Arthur’s mouth tasted bitter and he looked at his own hands in shock and disappointment.

“A sword Arthur? Really?” Morgana might have meant to sound patronizing but all that came out was hurt and anger.

“I know, I’m sorry… I wouldn’t have, I didn’t mean to.” He paused. “Why Morgana all these years? You know what magic does.” He was angry, and hurt but mainly sad, for who he didn’t know.

“Magic is a tool like anything else. There is no evil in magic, Arthur, only in people.” She sounded so sure it shook Arthur, but his whole life he had seen magic, seen its horrors. But magic was much more than a tool. A sword could be put down but those with magic carried it with them, every day of their lives. It could do more than any weapon ever could, strip others of their freewill, bind them forever, inflict widespread suffering and unimaginable pain.

“You have seen just like I have Morgana, magic is a blight, it curses those who wield it, and it corrupts the soul. It killed my mother! Why would you do this to us?” Arthur felt tears well into the corner of his eyes. He repeated the speech he had been taught his entire life. Magic was bony fingers creeping up your spine and into your skull, it was dark, murky and poison in your mind. It was the mantra he said in his head at every execution, every burning. It served as a reminder why such extreme measures were needed. An excuse. 

“You don’t really believe that, Arthur!” She accused, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.  “I didn’t choose magic, Arthur. I never sought it out. I’ve had magical dreams for years, I cast magic in my sleep. It is who I am. It’s who I have always been!”

She was angry, Arthur couldn’t imagine living how she must have, knowing her life would be forfeit if Uther were to discover her secret. Arthur kept remembering the day a few weeks ago when that young girl was burnt at the stake. That was wrong, he had been so sure. She was a child, she hadn’t hurt anyone. But that wasn’t enough, she may have been innocent, Morgana might be innocent but so many others weren’t.

Magic was power and power of any kind corrupted. But then what was the difference between the power of a king and the power of a sorcerer. His father wasn’t infallible, he committed crimes and condemned innocents, why was his head not on the executioners block.

One thing came back to Arthur over it all. Why couldn’t she trust him?

“You have lied to me for years Morgana. Why did you never tell me? We are like brother and sister.” Arthur tried not to, but the hurt bleed into his tone and he cursed himself for not maintaining his composure.

“How could I?” she seemed so tired, tired to the bone and in her soul, but Arthur knew she would never not fight. It made Arthur sad to think of how tired she must be.

“You were raised by the same man as I, Arthur. You were taught the same lessons and believed the same things.” She looked at him and he could feel the pain in her eyes, it was so unlike the girl he knew and loved that it made him feel sick. “At first I couldn’t tell you because how could I when I couldn’t view myself as anything but a monster.”

God he wished he could move, could do anything, run away, but his body pulsed with bone deep sickness and his stomach cramped.

“By the time I realized that who I was, was okay. I was scared, of how you would react, if you would tell Uther, I was afraid of how you would look at me. I mean, do you really think I deserved to be executed for who I am?” She had her hands curled in a fist, shaking by her sides.

“Morgana…” he said quietly. “I- No.”

The silence dragged on and Arthur’s mind was racing, it was filled with what Morgana had gone through, how she had suffered, the lies and deceit, he fought with pain and guilt and anger but most of all he knew he needed time.

“Morgana, I-” He looked into her eyes. “I will never turn you in to be executed. I could never, I need you to know that.”

Morgana bite her lip and glanced away as she fought with tears and Arthur knew she had needed to hear those words, probably for years, she just needed to know that those closest to her wouldn’t want her dead for who she was. Her body began to shake and she brought her hands to her face to wipe away tears. She then wrapped her arms around herself and looked at Arthur.

“Thank you, Arthur.” It was open and earnest but Arthur only felt cold.

“I need time… to figure things out. Where I stand with… sorcery and the lies and everything. I just need to process it. I need you to leave.”

Morgana nodded slowly, she looked hurt and Arthur felt glad for it. He realized he didn’t really know her, not the way he thought he did. That thought made the anger inside him rush back up, he spent so much time being honest with her and being her friend and it all felt cheapened and fake. She thought him untrustworthy and unreasonable and just like his father and that hurt more than anything else.

Morgana bid him farewell and made to move to the door before Arthur called out.

“Morgana, why now? Why tell me now after all this time?” He knew he sounded bitter but he didn’t find it in himself to care.

Morgana paused by the door.

“Because I believe that you can be the king that Camelot deserves, and because you have a choice to make.” He didn’t like the underlying accusation in her words but it just blended in underneath everything else he was fighting with and against and before he realized it Morgana was gone.

Arthur stood there motionless well into the night.

Chapter Text

The days since Morgana told Arthur pass in a blur. They are monotonous and dull and grey, which isn’t something Merlin would ever think to describe life when Arthur was around. The mornings are quiet and Arthur spends most of his time staring off into space. He completes his duties but even they are a bare minimum, not up to Arthur’s usual standard. Arthur delegates the work he can and spends the remaining time alone in his chambers.

The first time Merlin walked in on Arthur two days after, he was sitting in the dark on his bed. He had the curtains closed and his head buried in his hands. Merlin could see his mind working, running over all the details he knew, thinking of the things he missed and how he feels. Merlin has never seen Arthur look as tired as he did or as stiff and lifeless.

He wants to blame Morgana, wants to hate her for hurting Arthur but he knows he can’t, not when he has lied more than anyone and it will be him who will hurt Arthur more than anything else. Isn’t that ironic, Merlin has spent years protecting Arthur, keeping him from harm, giving up his life, his friends and family, even his humanity if need be, just to keep him safe. But in the end it will be his doing, his acts that will likely break Arthur’s trust forever.

At first Merlin was scared to speak to him, it was almost as if talking would invite Arthur’s wrath over to him. As if reminding Arthur of his presence would make everything shift and click into place in Arthur’s mind, revealing Merlin’s part in all of this.

Merlin’s fears were dispelled when he accidentally dropped a fork and their eyes met. Arthur smiled for the first time in days, it was weak and small but it made Merlin smile bigger than he ever remembered smiling.

Arthur spoke only when needed and Merlin kept quiet, no longer out of fear of his anger. But because he wanted to give Arthur the time and space he needed. Maybe recent events should make Merlin feel more at ease with eventually telling Arthur the truth. He now knows that Arthur is at least willing to think before he acts, to give magic a chance and not dismiss those he cares about outright the way Uther would. But all Merlin feels is sick, his insides turn cold and churn around, twisting and writhing like a mass of snakes whenever he sees the look on Arthur’s face when they pass Morgana in a corridor. He doesn’t want to be the one responsible for that look. He has carried unimaginable burdens, been responsible for hundreds of lives and deaths, he has made choices that were not his to make and had to live with the consequences but the thought of being hated by the one person that means more than anything. That thought makes him feel like he is ripping apart at his seams.

That’s not even the worst of it, the worst comes later. It comes when Merlin is bringing Arthur his breakfast and like every morning he slides the plate full of food in front of where Arthur is sitting. Instead of the nod Merlin has come to expect in the past few days, Arthur reaches a hand out and grabs Merlin's. He holds Merlin’s hand there for a second before he intertwines their fingers. His hands are warm and rough from sword fighting and Merlin can feel the callouses on his fingers graze against his skin. Arthur squeezes Merlin’s hand and locks eyes with him, Arthur doesn’t even have to say anything, and Merlin can feel it all. Arthur squeezes his hand in gratitude, it’s in thanks for giving him the time he wanted, the space he needed. Its thanking him for his honesty and openness and it makes Merlin’s heart stop and he can feel his stomach grind along his insides because he doesn’t deserve any of this. Because he lies more than anyone, but it’s not even that, it’s that he has lied to Arthur more than anyone. It’s that Arthur has been lied to by everyone he loves his entire life. By his father, by Morgana, by Gaius, and Merlin is just one more name on that list.

Merlin thinks he is going to be sick when Arthur brings Merlin’s hand up and places a small kiss to the top of his knuckles. They haven’t even talked about it, about them, but they both know something is there, something more. They are there, in his head, chances and possibilities Merlin knew he couldn’t imagine before he couldn’t think of anything but. Feelings he knew he couldn’t name unless they break his heart.

This was all so much easier before Morgana had told Arthur, because back then it was just something in the back of his mind. The guilt was easy to shove under the rug or lock up somewhere Merlin never went. But now it was impossible to ignore, it was a hulking black mass that Merlin had locked up so long ago, he had forgotten how big it really was.

But Merlin has had years of practice, so when Arthur looks up at him, Merlin’s hand still grasped tight in his own. He swallows down the bile rising up his throat. He wills his hands to stop shaking and he fits a smile over his mouth, a smile, he prays Arthur will believe because he just wants one more day, always just one more day before he loses Arthur for good, before they can’t go back.

Merlin excuses himself and walks on unsteady legs out the door, the halls all blur together, and passing bodies are nothing more than faceless masses. He walks until he finds a deserted alcove in a quiet wing of the castle. He walks until he stumbles onto his knees and retches the contents of his stomach up. He stays there shaking and silently sobbing, he wants desperately for someone to find him and comfort him but his pride and his logic know that’s unwise, so instead he stays quiet.

He quietly shakes until he feels a reassuring hand carding through his hair and is gently pulled into an embrace. He accepts it without thought or struggle and recognizes Gwen’s quiet voice whispering in his ear.

“Oh Merlin… you need to tell him.”

But he doesn’t think he can.

------

The blade sliced through the air, ringing out before it bit into the straw target in front of him. Arthur pulled his sword free and stepped onto his back foot, using it to push off and drive his weapon straight through the chest. 

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. The sun was hot and beating down on the training field. Arthur could feel the ache in his limbs and beads of moisture on his forehead and sweat trailing down the line of his spine. 

He pushed his fringe off of his forehead and stood quietly. He listened carefully to the sounds of his knights training and joking around. Arthur walked over towards the edge of the training field where he left his supplies earlier. He grabbed his water skin and brought it to his lips. The water trailed across his lips and down the hollows in his throat as he struggled to quickly quench his thirst.

"Sire." 

The voice was quiet and gentle and Arthur didn't need to turn to know it was Gwen. He reached down and placed his water skin down as he replied. 

"Guinevere," he greeted. "Is there something I can do for you?" 

Gwen looked around, almost as if to see who was near before she took one step closer. 

"I thought we might take a short walk." 

That was uncommon. While Arthur appreciated Gwen's company, at the minute he had been enjoy some time alone, even from Merlin. 

"Uh... I really do need to be getting back to my training." 

Gwen's fixed her eyes into him before they softened and she spoke. 

"Arthur... please." 

Her face was gentle and her tone smooth. Arthur knew she wouldn't push if it wasn't important. Regardless even if he had wanted to say no, he doubted that he could after she looked at him like that. 

"Of course. Shall we?" 

Gwen smiled and Arthur smiled back at her. They walked a slow gradual pace, around the training field, through the lower town and the outlying fields. He let the sun soak into his skin and enjoyed the sounds of nature. He felt at peace and it was a welcome respite. It wasn't until they were nearing the outskirts of the forest that Gwen chose to speak up. 

"So did you want to talk about what Morgana told you?" she asked not turning to meet his eye. 

Arthur's head snapped around to look at her. 

"You know!?" he asked, shock clear in his voice. 

In response Gwen simply turned and raised in incredulous eyebrow at him, before turning back to face the road.

"Right... of course you knew." he sighed.

Gwen turned to look at him at him, clearly expecting more.

"I don't know what you want me to say Gwen. She lied to me for years, I mean I can't trust her. I feel like I barely even know her and as much as I want to, I can't just forget everything I have seen about magic overnight. I have a right to be wary." He knew he sounded defensive but he was right, he knew he was allowed to feel this way. 

"You're right. You do have a right to be wary but come on Arthur. Do you really think that Morgana having magic means you don't know her? You have known her for years beforehand. Is she really that different from when she was young?" 

Arthur sighed. "No, I suppose she isn't a completely different person. She is more of a nuisance now days though."

Gwen laughed and Arthur felt a smile press against the corner of his lips.

"I get that you're hurt Arthur, and believe me I understand. I was still wary of magic and still am nowadays, I was raised in Camelot just like you. But seeing it, experiencing it firsthand helped me see that its not all black and white or good and evil." She smiled at the thought and Arthur wondered what magic she had seen that could have made her smile so warmly, he found himself wishing he could see it as well.

"Not only that but I felt hurt just like you when I found out, granted they didn't lie quite as long to me as to you but still it hurt." Gwen finished.

'They?' Arthur thought. He stopped walking.

"What do you mean they?" he asked and it was as if the world fell silent around them. 

Gwen stopped dead in her tracks a few steps in front of him and her body froze. Her shoulders bunched with tension until a second later it seemed to slipped away. 

"Oh I thought you knew." She turned around a hesitant look in her eyes. "G-Gaius, he was the one who told Morgana that he thought she had magic. He helped her hide it."

That made sense, it sounded like something Gaius would do, but for some reason Arthur could still see the tension set, lingering in Gwen's body and the unease in her breath. Could she be hiding something? First Morgana and Gaius, now Gwen all lying to him. Arthur shook the thought out of his head, he was being paranoid because of recent events.

Part of him wanted to blame Gaius as well, the same part that blamed Morgana and wanted to blame Gwen. But he knew that wasn't fair, Gaius only did what he could to protect Morgana and ultimately would only do what she asked him to do.

He took Gwen's arm and continued walking. 

"I don't blame Gaius for keeping Morgana's secret. Or you for that matter. It was her secret to tell." he said, and as he spoke the words he saw the tension leave her body, maybe that was what she was afraid of. Afraid of being blamed or punished, or of causing Gaius to be blamed or punished. 

When Gwen spoke next she almost sounded sad. Just a tiny edge of sorrow, almost as if she were trying to hide it, maybe to preserve the image they all held of her, kind and happy or maybe to make sure he didn't feel judged, but the sadness was there still. 

"But you still blame Morgana for keeping the secret." 

"I don't know." He replied honestly. 

Gwen seemed to steel herself for the next sentence and it was that, that reminded him of his position, that they weren't just friends, they were a prince and his subject and that she felt it too. 

"Can you just... please try. Try to forgive her. Try to talk to her. She would never say it but I can see that she just wants you to accept her. She's been through so much Arthur." 

Tears start to well up in the corner of her eyes and Arthur reaches across to wipe them away. Maybe it's unfair of Gwen to do this, he thinks. Maybe its emotionally manipulative to put this onto Arthur, to cry and beg for him to be the bigger man. Maybe it is. But he knows that is not how Gwen meant it, and once again, even if he wanted to, he isn't sure whether he could say no to Gwen when she looks at him that way. 

Later that night Arthur meets Morgana's eyes from across the room and smiles for the first time in weeks. He feels lighter than he has since the fesitval and decides its a good start.

Chapter Text

Merlin gathers the remaining cutlery off of the table and piles them onto the plate in his hand. He notices that Arthur barely ate any of his food and casts a glance over towards him, only to see him peering down at a parchment on his writing desk, a slight frown forming on his lips. 

It's not an uncommon thing, Arthur not really eating, in these past few weeks especially and Merlin makes a brief comment about taking the dishes down to the kitchens. Arthur murmurs some affirmative noise and Merlin opens the door with his foot and makes his way down.

Merlin counts his steps as he goes. His eyes remain downcast and he focuses his attention on his boots as they wind and weave their way through the halls. Merlin has walked these corridors more times than he can count and its almost as if his legs walk themselves. They know which turns to take and glide without effort or thought, Merlin is content to listen to them because they seem so sure and its easy.

It makes Merlin wish that he knew what to do, that he was so sure of himself and of his destiny, that he could just let his body take him where it may. That the knowledge that everything would resolve itself would wrap around him with every decision he made. Merlin has never had that unwavering belief in himself, that constant confidence or reassurance that he was in control and what he thought was the best course of action, was really what would be the best.

Belief in something was hard to come by, it was slow to form and broke so easily and Merlin had found precious few things to believe in, in his life. Fewer still in recent years, it seemed the older he got, the more childish and reprehensible the idea of believing in anything seemed. But as much as it felt foolish to place belief in things, Merlin, as the years went on, found that he couldn't help it. That a life without belief, in an idea, a way of life, or even in a person, felt hollow. 

Merlin believed in him, in Arthur. He believed in his destiny and his fate and him as a person, even when he knew Arthur didn't. If Merlin told the truth, he and Arthur's shared fate set him on edge. It made a sickness settle in his bones, seeing the reverence the druids had for him, the fear and disdain others held. He thought that it was a dangerous thing, to view a person as so much more than just a person. To hold them to a higher standard or on a pedestal. He understands why they do it, but Merlin knew Arthur better than that.

A world without belief is grey. It's grey and bleak and colorless most of the time. But Arthur's eyes are blue and his hair is gold. Arthur is the sun, golden and warm and kind, and you can't always see its light, sometimes it sinks behind the horizon and its dark. Sometimes its burning and blinding and hurts to touch but he is the sun. Merlin forgets sometimes that behind the bravado and distance that Arthur is just a boy, a boy who got strapped into his armor before he knew how to be himself. A boy who thinks if he fights hard enough that he can paint this grey world with color. If he punches hard enough he smear the blood from his battered knuckles and coat the world red. He fights so hard he forgets there is a world of grey. Arthur is the sun, he is golden and bright and he is all the color in a grey world but more than anything he is Arthur. He can be angry and petty and childish and they are both the man that Merlin believes in, in the depths of his heart, believes will lead Albion into the Golden Age. He believes, just as much in Arthur as the Once and Future King. 

'I believe in him but can't even be honest with him.' he thought bitterly.

The clattering of plates and cutlery broke Merlin from his thought as he entered the kitchen. He ducked and weaved through the maids washing and sweeping, placing Arthur's plates onto a large pile of dirty dishes before hastily making his way back towards the Prince's chambers. 

Merlin pushed open Arthur's door without knocking on instinct and a brief flash of worry shot through his bones before he saw Arthur hadn't even reacted to his entrance. Arthur sat on the end of his bed with his hands buried in his head, elbows resting on the top of his knees. He seemed to be staring at the floor. 

Merlin wondered around the room, looking for something to do before he settled down in front of the fire. He poked at the logs with a iron prod, watching them burn. Each poke sent sparks flying up into the air dancing around. He continued to prod at the fire, shifting the logs back and forth for no other reason then to fill in time, to have something hold his attention rather than the seemingly and illogical deafening silence. 

"You knew." Arthur broke the silence. Merlin's back tensed and he waited. 

"When Morgana came to tell me, you offered to stay. You offered because you already knew. Didn't you?" Arthur's tone sounded hollow and his voice was even. 

Merlin's pulse quickened and he could hear the blood roaring through his veins. 

"Yes. I knew." he turned as he spoke and saw that Arthur had raised his head and was staring straight at him. Arthur had a look in his eye that was equal parts tired and angry and wistful, and it made Merlin's chest ache. 

Arthur sighed. "You as well huh? You also lied to me. Didn't think I was trustworthy either." he barely even tried to hide the hurt in his voice. 

Merlin stood up. 

"Arthur, you know that's not true. It wasn't my secret to tell. It wasn't my place." 

"Did you even try to convince her to trust me?" Arthur asked, the look on his face told Merlin he already knew the answer. 

Merlin pulled his gaze away refusing to look Arthur in the eye. 

"It is your duty to protect Camelot. You should have told me. You are a servant and I am your prince." Arthur replied more forcefully, but even Merlin could tell he didn't believe in his own arguments, didn't believe Morgana was a threat and didn't believe that to be the extent of what they were to each other. 

"And Morgana is my friend!" Merlin's voice rose and he saw Arthur's jaw clench. 

"So am I!" Arthur rose to his feet and he balled up his fists by his side. 

Merlin didn't understand how Arthur couldn't see it. He had forgiven Gwen and Gaius for the same thing. Maybe it was the final straw, maybe all the lies combined made Arthur feel untrustworthy and alone. Maybe he held Merlin in higher regard, trusted him more. It was likely a mix of both. Either way it wasn't fair, that he was held at a higher standard, that he was condemned and held accountable for actions that others weren't. Merlin knew he didn't have the moral high ground, that he had lied to Arthur everyday since he met him. Merlin's guilt mixed with his anger, defensiveness rising out and into his actions and words before he could stop himself. 

"You have no idea what those with magic face everyday, Arthur! You have no idea what it's like!" Merlin yelled, bitterness seeping into his words. 

Arthur matched his volume. "Oh and you do?" he questioned mockingly. 

Merlin felt his stomach drop out from under him, his rage dissipating right before his eyes and replaced with a low bubbling panic that was accustomed and usual and second nature to him now.

The seconds dragged on and Merlin saw Arthur's eyes narrow, accessing, before Merlin pushed the words out of his throat. 

"I..." Merlin turned his head away from Arthur looking down at the stone tiles. "No." 

Merlin kept his eyes fixed on the floor, he could only hear his heart hammering inside his chest, banging against his ribs. He tried to move his fingers but they were stiff and unfeeling, they felt like not his own, as if they were the fingers of a dead man sewed onto his hand. He shut his eyes and willed this not to be the day. Just one more day. Arthur had believed worse, seen more and not questioned. The silence stretched so long that Merlin almost raised his eye line before he heard Arthur speak. 

"No." it was a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard across the room but the disbelief and pain in it made Merlin's head snap up. He knew.

"No, it's not true... Not you as well." Arthur was shaking his head, his eyes watery with tears as he walked steadily towards Merlin. 

Merlin backed up as Arthur approached until his back pressed up against the wall, the cold stone bleeding through his tunic. Arthur's voice rose in volume and the tone slowly turned vengeful. 

"Tell me it's not true!" Arthur all but yelled as he bracketed his hands against the wall on either side of Merlin's head, causing Merlin to flinch.  

Merlin's breath was coming in rushes, heavy waves commanding the majority of his energy, starting too soon before the last breath stopped. They were overlapping and building up bit by bit, wave by wave until Merlin's lungs were fit to burst. 

His mind was racing with thoughts about what he should do or say. But they were coming to fast and he had no answers. His thoughts speeding past his comprehension until they were nothing but long chains of letters stringing listlessly along after each other, bouncing around in his skull until his head rung and his vision blurred. 

Merlin tried to push the words past the lump in his throat but it came out hoarse. 

"I-I'm sorry." he sobbed. 

It wasn't until he brought his hands up to his face that he felt the tears rolling over down his cold hands in rivulets that he realized he was crying. 

Arthur's eyes usually cool orbs of blue were aflame, his face filled with so many emotions Merlin couldn't hope to name them all. 

"Say it. I want to hear you say the words." Arthur spat, his words more acid and toxic than Merlin ever thought they could be. 

Merlin looked him straight in the eye, through the blur of his tears, and he saw a stone cold face, the face of a statue of the kings of old, unflinching and uncompromising and Merlin for the first time in his life, truly felt scared of Arthur, because this man wasn't the prat who punched his shoulder to cheer him up or ruffled his hair affectionately. This was the stoic empty prince who watched from behind the parapet as sorcerers burned.

"I'm a-" his throat seized around the words, choking them out of existence. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I..I'm a sorcerer, I-I h-have magic..." Merlin paused, tears cascading down his face, the words scraped out past his tongue, half marred by gulps for breath and sobs. "and I use it for you Arthur... only for you." 

When Merlin saw the look on Arthur's face he knew that it would never leave him, and that he would never forgive himself for being the one who caused it. 

Arthur pulled his hands away like they had been burned, he turned around and slammed his fist into the table screaming in frustration and anger and so many other things. 

All feeling drained from Merlin's limbs and he fell to his knees before he realized what was happening. He gripped at the stone tiles, scratching and clawing for something to hold onto until his fingers were raw and his nails chipped and bled. Merlin felt the words rush out of him as he tried to explain. 

"I- I'm sorry Arthur... I didn't m-mean for this." Merlin pleaded. "I was born like this. I'm sorry I never meant for- I just... I never wanted to lie, I hated lying to you. I wanted to tell y-you everyday." The words were breathed out between chokes and sobs. 

"But you didn't do you!" Arthur interrupted Merlin's apologetic rambling. Merlin looked up at Arthur, fear running rampant in his chest. 

"You have lied to me for years Merlin! I mean did you think I would execute you!? Do you think me no better than my father!?" Arthur paced back and forth as he yelled. 

"You of all people!" Arthur turned to face Merlin, his face was bunched up in rage, but the tears rolling down his cheeks betrayed his hurt. 

A silence fell on the room but for the sound of Merlin's whimpers and sobs as he waited for Arthur, for his judgement, or punishment, or in his wildest dreams that he never let himself indulge in, forgiveness. 

Arthur whispered. "I mean for gods sake, I thought that we were... we had..." Merlin remember dancing at the festival and a shy kiss on the cheek.

Arthur sighed. "I at least thought I knew you." 

"We were and you do, Arthur," Merlin tried. "I'm the same as I've always be-" 

"No!" Arthur screamed. "The Merlin I know... My Merlin, wouldn't have lied... not like this." 

Pity and regret about who he was and the things that had led him to this point, that Merlin never even knew he had welled up in his throat at Arthur's words. They threatened to choke the life out of him. His throat was hoarse from crying and his eyes were stinging and red.

Merlin looked to Arthur's face for a clue, of what? Merlin had no idea. Anything, everything. A sign of what Arthur wanted, what he wanted Merlin to say or do, whatever it was that could make this all better, because Merlin would do it, would do anything for Arthur, he always had. But he feared that deep down that there was no one thing that could fix this.

The way that Arthur stared down at Merlin, with hurt and anger and like he didn't even know him at all. It made Merlin feel small and worthless, made him feel wrong and cold like ice covered his skin. 

"I'm sorry Arthur, but I did... I had to." Merlin replied, tired of fighting and the excuses. 

Arthur stood unmoving for longer than Merlin could bear. Merlin's shoulders shook and he couldn't feel his legs. 

"I need you to get out." There was no emotion in Arthur's voice, it was hollow and empty and devoid of the anger and hurt.

Merlin thought this was the end. A sob, guttural and wet, pushed out past the hurt in his throat at those words. The words felt like pain, deep cuts all across Merlin's body and he knew that by the end of this day he would have more scars than skin. 

"Arthur please... don't." Merlin whispered, pleaded, his eyes wide and full of hurt, brimming with tears. 

Arthur turned, refusing to look at Merlin, looking anywhere but at him. 

"Y-You heard... just leave me." Merlin doesn't think he had ever heard Arthur sound so... alone. 

Merlin pushed himself up on unsteady legs, holding in the sobs and cries in his throat as he made his way to the door. He cast one last glance back at Arthur before he shut the door behind him and ran.

Chapter Text

Merlin pushed one foot in front of the other, away from the door. It was late and the hallways were deserted, deserted but for the labored breathes and the shakes wracking through his body. He stumbled his way through endless corridors and hallways, the moon once shining now covered by dark, thick, grey clouds.

Words, spoken mere minutes ago, burned into his consciousness, they leap and bounded and as fast as he ran he couldn't get away from them. Merlin felt like they were writing themselves on his skin. 

'You have lied to me for years Merlin.' 

'I at least thought I knew you.' 

'I need you to get out.'  

Merlin's eyes blurred and his limbs felt like dead weight. He used his hand, running it along the wall, trying desperately to keep himself from falling apart. His shoulders bumped into door frames and side tables, tripping over himself, messy and desperate in a frenzy to get back to his chambers. To get as far away from 'there' as he can. 

He flung himself down the long winding stairwell, telling himself over and over, repeating the mantra in his head. 

'Don't think about it. Don't think about him. Don't think about it. Don't think about him.' 

He couldn't think of the name, wouldn't think of it, because he knew he was barely holding himself together and if he thought about those crooked teeth or that index finger that always wore his mother's ring then he knew he would fall to pieces. So many pieces that he would never be able to pick them up again. 

Merlin's foot caught on the very edge of a stair on the last flight. Through a blur of pain and hard edges, he tumbled down the stone steps and slammed into the floor at the bottom of them. 

He laid motionless. His mouth tasted like copper and his back was stiff and bruising. He wanted so much to stay there, to lie on the solid ground and let his pain permeate through his limbs, let his melancholy settle in his body, his cries dampened by the floor, but he knew that if he started he couldn't stop. He knew that 'he' wouldn't want to find Merlin here, shaking and bleeding, in the morning.

Merlin dragged himself up and limped, quietly through the corridors, quiet enough to not wake Gaius as he slumped through the physicians chambers and closed his bedroom door behind him.

He had expected tears and pain and heartbreak when he was alone, but he never expected to feel, empty.

Merlin moved to his cupboards and drawers, he put everything he owned into his pack and then he sat at the foot of his bed. He found it funny how all his time in Camelot could be added up and put into one bag.

He sat with his arms wrapped around his knees and waited. Waited for the sound of ringing bells, the sound of muffled whispers and clanging footsteps of boots on cobblestone, the sound of chain mail swishing through the evening breeze and swords being pulled from their sheaths. The sound of Arthur realizing he didn't want him anymore, the sound of them coming for him. 

He waited until he figured they weren't coming and he left. He crept past Gaius and out to the courtyard. It was the early hours of the morning and when he looked up to 'his' window from at the edge of the courtyard there was the faint glow of light creeping from behind the curtains. 

Merlin made it halfway out of the lower town before turned back and started walking to his chambers. He stopped outside Gaius' door before he turned around again. He walked all the way out of Camelot to the edge of the forest before he sat down by the side of the road. 

He looked back to Camelot, it's tall spires and tyrannical king and beautiful prince. He looked out to the forest with its harsh seasons, and duality and promises of freedom. He found he couldn't stay and he couldn't go. He had no place in Camelot if not for 'him', not even Gwen and all her kind smiles or Morgana and her fierce eyes or Gaius and his fatherly advice could be enough for Merlin to stay. Not even his destiny. Not when he could be free elsewhere, be free and be himself. But 'he' had been enough, 'he' would still be enough. 

He sat and watched and waited until he saw the sun slowly rise over the top of Camelot, it reminded him of returning to Camelot months ago, of riding through the night and being tired in his bones but it was okay because he looked in front of him and 'he' was there. Golden and winsome and everything Merlin thought was worth protecting in this world. 

He walked back through the lower town, past the portcullis, in through the courtyard and crept into his chambers. He closed the door behind him and fell onto his bed. 

'Arthur.'  

Merlin cried. 

------ 

Merlin slept late into the morning, uttering something about feeling ill when Gaius probed. He shut the small wooden door covering his window, cutting off almost all source of light. 

He laid in bed and drifted in and out of sleep, never fully asleep nor awake. He watched the small trickle of light that crept in from under his closed door, he watched the shadows dance on the floor with dead eyes, hollow and glazed over. There were murmured voices and quiet footsteps, the sounds of animal cries and children laughing but none of it seemed to penetrate through his bubble. None of the world outside of the four walls around him existed, he didn't allow them to.

Merlin laid in his bed until the air was stagnant and stale and fetid. One day stretched into two. He recalls cold limbs and Gwen begging him to eat something, to say something. Two days became three. He remembers Morgana's stern tone and vague accounts of being made to sit up and watched as he was forced to drink and eat and change.

He spoke to Gwen on the fourth day, Gwen who hadn't left his side since she found him, Gwen who held him as he cried when he told her two words.

"Arthur knows."

If he had any illusion of making it through telling Gwen without crying, all of those were shattered when he saw her face upon hearing those words. She smelled of vanilla and flowers and he drifted off to sleep in her arms. 

On the fifth day he got out of bed. Merlin spoke them through how it happened. Gaius and Morgana and Gwen and Merlin all huddled around a table in the physicians chambers. Gwen was all pitying and sympathetic looks, Morgana was fiery expressions and barely concealed ferocity, and Gaius looked contemplative and more than anything else, tired. Merlin told them what he could, what he wanted, leaving out the parts that hurt too much or cut too deep. 

On the sixth day he heard the door to the physicians chambers swing open, even through a door he could hear Arthur's muffled voice. 

"Tell him if he doesn't complete his duties tomorrow, I'll have him put in the stocks." 

Merlin felt a sense of dread at facing Arthur, of seeing the disdain or hatred or hurt on his face. His stomach clenched violently, it churned and spasmed and cramped until he was sick. 

Morgana made him laugh for the first time since and Gwen agreed to wake Arthur in the morning so he wouldn't have to. Merlin didn't sleep until the early hours of the morning.  

Merlin got up in the morning and went to the armory, he spent the first hours of the day sharpening Arthur's sword and oiling his chain mail, he hammered out dents in his pauldron and cleaned his boots.

He waited until he knew Arthur was in a council meeting before he went to the prince's chambers. The floors were covered in days of old clothes, a fine layer of dust had settled over the tables and cabinets. Had Arthur not even bothered to get a replacement servant? Merlin gathered the clothes and went to the kitchen to wash them. He busied his hands wringing the water out and scrubbing his fingers over grass stains so he didn't think about anything else. 

He hung the wet clothes outside on a washing line and if he listened closely he could hear Arthur shouting from the training field just around the bend of the castle walls.

Merlin opened the curtains of Arthur's chamber and dusted around the room, he redressed the bed and swept the ashes from the fireplace and tried to forget. He tried to let himself drift into his work or fade back into the days when he would be cleaning Arthur's room and counting the seconds until he would come through those doors, instead of dreading them. 

Merlin would be gone before Arthur gets back, he decided. At that thought the doors crashed open and Arthur strode in. Merlin didn't even catch his eyes flicking nary a glance towards him before he turned his back to Merlin, looked down at a parchment on his desk and coldly said, "You're dismissed." 

Merlin raised to his feet, dusting the ash from his knees. He looked at the solid line of Arthur's back and nodded sadly. Merlin left without a word.

Chapter Text

Arthur stood on the battlements of Camelot, the sun had long since sunk beyond the horizon. A darkness, creeping through the canopies of oaks and redwoods, travelling down roads and through villages, covering streams and fields alike, casting all of his fathers kingdom in a mysterious veil. 

Arthur knew that he should retire to his chambers, that he should have long ago, but Merlin would be there. Arthur had never been one to hide from challenges, not his entire life. The way he was raised and trained was to overwhelm his enemies, to exploit weaknesses and seize advantages. The idea of a problem that he can't overwhelm, or fight with a sword has never been one that Arthur was comfortable with. They turn him from being Camelot's brave and strong crown prince, into the person that he knows himself to be. The person he has spent his whole life ensuring that no one sees him as.

It twists him up into knots, trying to decide right from wrong and friends from foe in a world that time and time again has proved itself to be more nuanced and complex than he was raised to believe, with black and white morals being a lofty ideal and a large grey area being a harsh reality. 

It has been two long weeks since Merlin told Arthur the truth. The days all seemed to drag on into a monotonous, drab mass. The started as they ended with little to no variation in between.

Merlin would wake Arthur in the morning by placing Arthur's breakfast on the table and opening the blinds, he would excuse himself with a barely audible "sire." and wouldn't come back to clean and fulfill his duties until Arthur had left. He attended to his training and his duties, he sat in on council meetings and went on patrol. Arthur wouldn't see Merlin again until nightfall, Merlin would be waiting in Arthur's chambers with his face downcast until Arthur curtly dismissed him and readied himself for bed. 

Any days that they were forced together for longer were cold responses and avoiding eye contact. They didn't speak, they didn't laugh and Arthur found that when Merlin was in the room was when he missed him the most. He missed that Merlin used to be there with him. Arthur missed being woken up by a wide smile and cheerful greeting, playful banter and a cheeky glint in Merlin's eye when Arthur was particularly sour in the morning. He missed when Merlin would roll his eyes at pompous noblemen in meetings to make Arthur laugh. Or how Merlin would always try to find time to watch Arthur train, and if Arthur looked over towards the grassy slope leading to the castle, he could see Merlin sitting down in the sun, watching Arthur and twisting daises together to make a chain. Merlin would always give them to a blushing maid until one day Arthur asked. 

"Why do you always give them away to a different girl. Leading them on a bit don't you think?" 

Merlin had turned his head to Arthur with an eyebrow raised. 

"Arthur, are you jealous?" 

Arthur scoffed at that and felt a blush rise on his cheeks. 

"Hardly, what even is there to be jealous of?" 

Merlin laughed. 

The next day Merlin presented Arthur with a chain of daisies and Arthur tried not to blush when Merlin rested them atop his head and all the knights laughed and cheered. 

Patrols without Merlin felt lonely, Arthur found that he wished there was someone there who would whistle to the birds they passed or point out strange looking clouds. 

"Look that cloud looks like you, Arthur." 

"Don't be stupid that is clearly a donkey, Merlin."

"Yeah, that's what I said." 

More than anything he missed Merlin being there in his chambers, when it was just the two of them. When Arthur would tease him and Merlin could tease him right back without concern for the wrong people overhearing. How Merlin would draw patterns with a sponge when scrubbing the floor or how he would launch into stories about village life in Ealdor at a moments notice. Arthur missed rough, calloused fingers unlacing his tunic after a long day and how Merlin would constantly bump into furniture. 

Arthur didn't know what to do. Merlin thought him untrustworthy and hateful, he thought that Arthur was his father's son in more ways than one. Arthur thought that of all people that Merlin could have, should have known him better, seen him as someone who wouldn't have someone killed for magic alone. That he understood that his father was an extremist. He had told Merlin as much, allowed Merlin to hold him as he called his father wrong and unjust. 

How could he trust a man who lied to him from the first moment he met him? Did Arthur even know the real Merlin at all? 

Arthur told Merlin everything, he trusted him more than anyone else and the thought that all of that, that everything they shared and had was nothing but in Arthur's head made him feel ill. He couldn't quite bring himself to forgive Merlin, but he could no more execute him then he could send him away.

The cold air began to bite through his clothes into his skin. Chattering teeth seemed thunderous in the eerie silence almost as if the world itself quietened down for the prince's thoughts. 

Arthur didn't want to go back to his chambers, to see Merlin and what became of him after Arthur left what must be only an hour before. Arthur supposed that it was only a matter of time, he was shocked that it hadn't happened sooner or that he hadn't noticed earlier. 

Arthur was sitting at his dining table leafing through parchments when it happened. He shifted his elbow to rest on the corner of the table and as he did sent a knife clattering to the ground. Merlin sprung up from where he was lighting the fire. His breathing rapid as he scrambled away from Arthur, the look of panic in his eyes so vivid that Arthur felt his stomach drop out from under him as he realized that Merlin was afraid, afraid of him and what he might do. Merlin for weeks had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Arthur to decide to call the guards and watch as they chopped off his head. Arthur hadn't noticed, not the wary eye on passing guards, not even the flinch when Arthur unsheathed his sword.

Merlin's body shook as he calmed his breathing. Arthur pushed his chair back as he stood and Merlin instinctively stepped back and Arthur felt the wind be knocked from his lungs. He slowly reached down and picked up the knife before muttering something about needing air and then he found himself on the parapets ever since, dreading having to go back. 

Arthur stared out into a dark blank canvas before him, long enough until he couldn't see anything then let his feet carry him back towards his chambers. The hallways were all but deserted and it wasn't till he stood in front of the door to his own chambers, staring at the soft light ebbing through the gap at the bottom of the door that he felt anxious. 

Arthur slowly opened the door and closed it behind him before turning around and settling his gaze on raven hair. 

"Morgana? What are you doing here? Where is Merlin?" Arthur asked glancing around the room. 

Morgana sat at the head of Arthur's table, her legs draped over each other. She held a goblet of wine in one hand and lightly leafed through a book by candlelight. Looking very much like she owned the place but Arthur supposed that Morgana always looked like that. 

Morgana took a final sip from her goblet before placing it on the table and closing her book. She brought her elbows up unto the table and cradled her face in her hands before lightly gesturing for Arthur to take a seat. 

Arthur sucked in a retort and slowly walked over to the table, standing behind the chair a few places away from Morgana. 

"Honestly Morgana it's late and I-" 

"I know you don't want to talk to me Arthur." Morgana interrupted. "I know you still haven't forgiven me completely, but I've given you time and space and I need you to, for once in your life, just listen." 

She gestured again to the seat in front of him and he slowly pulled it out, the scrapping of the wooden legs echoing in the silent room. Arthur sat down heavily, huffing and a gesturing his arm for Morgana to go on. 

Morgana rolled her eyes before starting. 

"Merlin is with Gwen... he's upset." 

"Like I care." Arthur mumbled. 

"You do and we both know it, Arthur." Morgana snapped back, ire burning in her eyes, Arthur supposed he had already worn her patience thin. 

Arthur tried to keep his voice steady as he repeated the only thing that seemed to come back to him, time after time, day after day. 

"He lied to me for years Morgana." 

"And you know perfectly well why he did that. Not only that but you forgave Gaius and Gwen and you have even begun to forgive me so why not Merlin?" 

"Because it's different!" Arthur slammed his fist onto the table as he rose. 

Morgana stood in response. 

"How is it any different?" Anger and disbelief clouded her words. 

"Because it's Merlin! He... We..." Arthur sighed and ran his forefinger and thumb over the bridge of his nose. "I trusted him more than anyone else and it's just... different!" 

Morgana squared her shoulders before talking next. 

"Merlin forgave you, why can't you forgive him?" 

"Forgave me?" Arthur yelled in disbelief. "What could he possibly have to forgive me for? I have done nothing!" 

Morgana burst forward, towards him, Arthur planted his feet as she approached yelling. 

"Nothing! Exactly! You did nothing while people like him were being butchered in the streets of your own kingdom, by your father!" 

"I never supported my father's actions." Arthur defended. 

"Oh but you followed his orders didn't you? Lead attacks on druid camps, arrested magic users. You act as if your neutrality makes you exempt from blame, but in actual fact all it means is that you stood by passively as hundreds were murdered.” Morgana's words burned in scars Arthur long thought healed and he stepped back from the weight of the words. 

“It’s not my fault! I didn't do this.” Arthur felt bile rise up in his throat and he felt like Morgana could see him shrinking. But he was a Pendragon and they did not shrink or cringe or falter, not for anyone. 

“No, it’s not. But you didn’t help them either. You claimed to care as you did nothing and watched the helpless and oppressed be punished for merely existing.” Morgana inched closer and closer with every word and Arthur felt the resentment buried behind them. 

“You tried to help and what good did it ever do?” Arthur tried to reason, but even as he said the words he knew them not to be true, that just because the right course of action may not result in the desired outcome, doesn't mean you don't still do the right thing. 

“At least I tried, at least I made my opinion known. At least I did something!” Morgana retorted. 

“Well, what would you have me do then Morgana?” Arthur asked, half rhetorically, half hoping she could give him an answer that would stop him from restless nights and tiresome days. 

“Anything! You could do anything, and you can start by not judging Merlin for keeping a secret when it was his life on the line and not yours.” Morgana seemed to calm at the mention of Merlin, maybe she remembered why she was really here. Either way it didn't matter. 

"You have no idea, how much that boy has given for you Arthur." Arthur looked into Morgana's eyes and she looked so sad that Arthur felt his bones ache. "He has done so much for you, unthinkable things, all to protect you and help you and you have no idea... worse you blame him and hate him for it." 

'I use it for you Arthur... only for you.' 

"I don't hate him... I could never." Arthur whispered.

Morgana matched his volume and as she spoke Arthur felt his heart break. 

"If you don't do something Arthur... He will leave and you will never forgive yourself. He thinks that you view him as a monster." 

Arthur tore his gaze away from Morgana as tears threatened to spill. He willed his breathing down. 

How could Merlin think that. He could never be a monster. Not to Arthur. Arthur knew now that Merlin had done monstrous things, that underneath all that tender skin was bony fingers. That fire could run through his veins and darkness could settle in his eyes. That was the terrifying thing about Merlin really, he could do anything, be anything. He could be cruel and ruthless if he wanted to -Arthur had seen it- if he needed to be, and Arthur was sure he would have had needed to be. But the next day he would be that clumsy, adorable big eared boy, Arthur didn’t think he would ever be able to see him as anything else. Even if Merlin was a monster. Is a monster really a monster if you love it. And if there’s one thing in this world that Arthur loves, it’s Merlin.

"I don't... I could never. How could he think that?" 

Morgana sighed and held her hand out to Arthur. He rubbed the tears from his eyes and reached out to clasp it. He held it tightly and felt the tension in his stomach unwind, the knots that had been forming for two weeks. Arthur led Morgana back to the table and they sat side by side hands still grasped together.

"Morgana. Tell me everything. I'm ready to listen." 

So Morgana did, she told him about Merlin and his lies and destiny, about all the magic and dragons, trolls and sidhe and everything in between. She told him things Merlin had done that made him beam in pride and things that made his blood curdle. How he saved her and how many times he had saved him and at the end he only had one question.

"Why? Why did he do all this? For some supposed destiny?" Arthur asked unbelieving.  

Morgana chuckled to herself. "I asked him the same thing actually and he said that at first he did it because of destiny. He said that you were a prat and he almost let you die a handful of times out of spite." 

Arthur laughed despite himself. That did sound like something Merlin would say. 

Morgana continued. "But then after awhile he said you surprised him, that you proved yourself to be a good man and a just prince." 

Merlin had told Arthur this himself on one or more occasions. 

"He said that before he realized it, he was doing everything he could not because of destiny but because of who you are, and because he couldn't bear to lose you." 

Arthur's head shot up and Morgana was smiling warmly at him. 

Arthur stood. 

"I need to go find him, I need to talk to him." He explained as he moved towards the door. 

"Arthur, it's almost morning." 

"I don't care... I need to go see him. I have to thank him and tell him that I care about him." Arthur pulled the door open and looked back to find Morgana grinning at him. 

"Then go!" 

Arthur ran out the door. 

"And don't screw it up!" Morgana yelled down the hallway.

Chapter Text

All of his life, Merlin had never felt reckless. His mother used to tell him that he did what he wanted, that he didn't think things through. She said that he was born and he knew how to run before he learned how to walk. He would say things he probably shouldn't and stick up for others if they needed it, even if it wasn't the smart thing to do. 

When he met Will it felt like fate because Will said what he wanted as well, didn't much care about the consequences of offending someone because if anything that he said offended them, then they probably had it coming he reckoned. Hunith said they were a match made in hell because one of them was trouble enough and together they ran in headfirst. 

Hunith had warned him in the weeks coming up to his journey to Camelot that he would need to be on his best behavior, to mind his manners and hold his tongue and keep himself out of trouble. 

Merlin never minded that part of him, not in Ealdor and certainly not in Camelot. Not when it was his - Arthur called it stupidity - bravery that caused him to meet Arthur in the first place. Maybe not under the most friendly circumstance but Merlin would be damned if it wasn't the perfect first meeting for them. It was anger and outrage and bickering, followed by piqued interest and maybe even begrudging respect. It made Merlin smile when he thought about it and Arthur would always laugh whenever he brought it up and that at least, was something.

These past few weeks, Arthur finding out about Merlin, had been difficult, maybe even the worst of his life. Merlin didn't think he would actually live to see the day where he would prefer to be forced to deal with an enchanted and besotted Arthur wooing a noble's daughter. 

Merlin had wandered the halls for awhile after Arthur left his own chambers in a daze, he went to Gwen and Morgana, he stayed with Gwen after Morgana left. But he wanted air or space or something. It seemed to him there was only one place he wanted to go and maybe it was the romantic in him, or his dramatic side but he found himself walking through the night towards the fields surrounding the lower town. 

Merlin's footsteps were silent, they sunk into the ground where he and Arthur danced and he weaved through the rows of crops until he sat down in the dirt where Arthur pinned him to the ground that festival night. 

It was almost morning and Merlin ran his fingers through the dirt. He raked his digits back and forth just to give his hands something to do as his eyes wandered. The serenity of the landscape seemed to speak to Merlin, it ebbed and flowed off of everything around him so much that it was almost distracting. It pulled at the knots in his magic and unraveled them before his eyes. 

Ever since Arthur found out about his magic, Merlin didn't know what he wanted to do. He toyed with the idea of leaving, passed it back and forth in his head until the words seemed to lose all meaning. He thought about going to Ealdor, for a day, a week, a month, forever. He thought about running somewhere no one had even heard of. Somehow it was when the sun just peaked above the horizon - a slow line of amber light bleeding out against the landscape, chasing away the indigo of the night before, obstructed by stalks and crops, lines of black cutting through gold - that made him realize. 

He wasn't leaving, he never would have. There were very few things that he would not do for Arthur, even if Arthur would never want, expect or ask him to do half of them. There was almost nothing that he wouldn't give. Even if it meant that he had to stay in Camelot with a man who reviled him for his lies. A man he would do anything for. 

Merlin wonders when this happened to him. When he stopped caring about the world and instead started caring only about Arthur. When he realized that he would do unthinkable things and break his own heart for good if it meant protecting Arthur. When he would take his soul and smash it up against all of the bad things in this world until it was black and torn and bruised and beyond repair if only it meant that Arthur would be saved from the hurt and pain all around him. 

Merlin loves Arthur. 

"You think those ridiculous ears would make you easier to find." 

Merlin smiles, because he is exhausted of being afraid but mainly because for the first time in weeks that sounds like his Arthur. 

Merlin turns to look at Arthur. He is wearing the same clothes he was earlier, they are wrinkled from wear and the bags under his eyes are prominent but he has a small and hesitant smile. 

"Yes well, we can't all be princes... some of us are just ordinary." Merlin rolls his eyes, with every second passing feeling more glad to be back on familiar territory. 

Arthur rolls his eyes as he sits next to Merlin and says. 

"Oh please Merlin. If there is one thing we have established it's that you are hardly ordinary." 

There isn't really any bite to the word but even the reference of the past few days set him on edge and he pulls his gaze from Arthur to watch the sunrise. 

"Sorry." Arthur sighs. 

"No, you have every right to be upset. I understand." 

Arthur sighs again and Merlin looks at him through the corner of his eye, he's looking at the sun rising as well and Merlin thinks he could stay here with Arthur forever. 

"Maybe." 

This makes Merlin turn to look at him. The words spill out of his mouth before he can alter them or think better of it. 

"Maybe?" Merlin fails to mask the hope in his voice. Hope that maybe Arthur is beginning to accept him or god forbid forgive him. 

"I talked to Morgana," Arthur explains "She informed me about a lot of things, magic and trolls and dragons..." 

Arthur pauses and looks Merlin dead in the eye as he finishes his sentence, a playful smirk ghosting his lips.  

"...and destiny." He finishes. 

"Arthur... I-" 

"Merlin. I understand why you felt you had to hide it but... why from me? Am I really so like my father that you felt you couldn't trust me?" Arthur's words went soft and quiet as he spoke. 

"What? Arthur no, never." 

Merlin reached over to Arthur and placed one hand on his shoulder as he used the other to gently turn Arthur's face towards him. 

"You are a better man than your father and I have never doubted that fact. I just... I didn't want you to have to choose between your father and I. I never wanted to be the one to put you in that position." 

Merlin dropped his hands from Arthur's body. He looked up towards the sky. How could Arthur ever think he was anything like Uther?  

Arthur gathered Merlin's hands in his and when Merlin looked he saw Arthur's eyes were wide with disbelief. 

"That's... That's what bothered you? You didn't want me to be put in an uncomfortable position?" 

"I mean I didn't exactly feel like getting my head chopped off either... but yes." Merlin smiled softly. "I thought you hated me." he whispered, more to himself than Arthur. 

 Arthur huffed out a breath as he gently ran his thumb along the bone in Merlin's wrist.

"I don't even think I could, if I wanted to." Arthur replied softly. "Think you are annoying... now that I can do in my sleep." 

Merlin chuckled despite himself but quickly sobered as the quietness and tenderness of the situation settled back in.

Merlin watched their hands conjoined and felt the warmth from Arthur's palm. They were hands that killed men in battle and rubbed their knuckles in Merlin's head and shook nobleman's hands and Merlin was glad that he got this part of them, the soft and tender part of them. 

"Morgana told me what she thinks... but I want to hear it from you. Why? Why did you do all this? Risk your life and your freedom for me? I mean god knows I didn't always treat you kindly Merlin. All these years and you never once sought any credit." 

Merlin intertwined their fingers and shook his head slowly. 

"That's not why I do it." 

He raised his eyes from their hands to look Arthur in the face. He felt tension build in his stomach and his breath hitch but Arthur made him brave, he made the insurmountable and monumental seem entirely possible. Arthur deserved the truth, for once in his life. 

"I do this Arthur, because I believe in you. Not because some dragon said so but because I have seen the man you are and I know that you will be the greatest king that this land will ever know." Merlin paused affection swelling in his as he watched Arthur. "Don't get me wrong, you're arrogant and rude, you treat me like a slave and are maybe the biggest arse I have ever met..." 

Arthur smiled and breathed out a chuckle. 

"But..." Merlin continued. "You are also kind and brave and have a good heart. Camelot is nothing without you, Arthur, and I will stay here by your side like I always am... for as long as you will have me." 

Arthur looked at Merlin as if he was everything important in the world. 

"Forever then." Arthur whispered, and Merlin felt his face break into a grin.

The sun fully broke out from the horizon, chasing away the last remnants of the night. The sky was shining and brilliant and gold and Arthur slowly reached out and pulled Merlin's lips against his own. Arthur's lips were dry and soft and Merlin reached his hands to grip at Arthur's shirt and brace against his chest as he kissed back. The kiss was quiet and tender, before it became labored breaths and roaming hands. Arthur snaked his hands up into Merlin's hair, carding his fingers through and holding onto tufts of it before sliding a hand down to cup the side of his face. 

The kiss grew more desperate and open as Arthur tongue ran along the seam of Merlin' lips. Merlin's head buzzed and rattled, his lungs fit to burst. Blood rushed through his veins and his heartbeat thundered in his own ears. 

Merlin gripped at Arthur' back, grabbing fistfuls of his tunic. Their mouths slid together, hot and wet and messy, and as their teeth clacked and their noses brushed Merlin felt something inside of him break. It broke and cracked, because of the kiss and because of Arthur. It ripped apart at the seams before it sewed itself back together, a little more open, a little more loving than before. It fit inside his chest in a way it never had. 

They pulled apart, foreheads pressing together, panting heavily into the quiet morning air. And Merlin knew that if this was the happiest moment of his life, that if this was the best it got, he would be okay with that. That he would be more lucky than most.

Time seemed irrelevant to them in that moment, it seemed archaic or otherworldly. 

Arthur ran a hand in soothing circles around Merlin's back and gripped Merlin's hand with his other. 

"You know, on second thought, forever is a long time. Who on earth could tolerate you for that long." Merlin could practically hear the smirk in Arthur's voice. 

Merlin pulled back to look at Arthur's face, who was wearing a smug and expectant look. 

"Hm, I suppose that's fair... I can't even put up with you for-" 

Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin's, holding the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away. 

"Would you look at that... We finally found a way to shut you up." Arthur grinned. 

Arthur stood up from the ground, brushing off the dirt on his trousers before reaching a hand down towards Merlin. He reached up and clasped Arthur's hand, planting his feet on the ground for balance as Arthur hefted him up to stand. 

Arthur didn't let go of Merlin's hand, dragging him along behind him until Merlin took a few quick steps to match Arthur's stride. 

They walked the long way to the castle through the fields and down deserted roads as Arthur ran his thumb, up and down along Merlin's knuckles. 

They were walking down the road heading towards Camelot when Arthur spoke, his words clear and meaningful.

"When I'm king... things will be different. I'm going to change things. I'll-" 

"I know." Merlin interrupted, not turning to look at Arthur. 

Arthur paused. "Merlin... I lov-" 

"I know." 

Arthur rolled his eyes and let out a huff. 

"Would you like to stop interrupting me?" he drawled. 

Merlin turned to Arthur and smiled, it was all teeth and dimples. 

"Nope." Merlin replied cheekily.

Merlin pulled his hand away from Arthur's and started to run towards Camelot, turning back to look at Arthur and laughing at the pout on his face. 

"Do you at least want to say it back?" Arthur yelled after Merlin. 

"Nope." Merlin grinned. 

It wasn't until late in the night, when Merlin laid next to Arthur in Arthur's bed, Merlin's head on his chest when he said. 

"I do, you know." 

Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin questioningly. 

"Do what?" Arthur asked.

"Love you." Merlin answered. 

Arthur placed a small kiss on the top of Merlin's head as he fell asleep, content and knowing that he and Arthur would be like this, be happy and free and together, no matter the odds, or consequences or implications of doing so.