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"Watch where you're stepping, Merlin!" Arthur grounded out as his manservant nearly tripped on his ankles for the fourth time in the past candlemark.
"Well, I wouldn't have any trouble if it weren't so dark!" Merlin's voice, doused with frustration, drifted to him nearly lost in the whipping wind that lashed around their bodies. "I can hardly even see you."
"Can't you see the path ahead? With magic like that one time when we were outrunning bandits."
A scoff accompanied the answer that came next, "Did I mention that it was eerily dark?"
Arthur rolled his eyes even though it's not as if Merlin could see it. "Stay close, but do make an effort to not trample on my feet. We need to find shelter—and soon. The air is becoming frigid."
The weather had taken an unexpected turn. Earlier that day, the pair were minding their own, trotting with their horses through the forest a couple days' ride from Camelot. Uther had sent Arthur on a private quest, hoping for his son to retrieve yet another lost magical artifact that he would rather see locked and hidden away in Camelot's vaults forever. The prince, of course, had wanted to bring along his manservant.
But with no leads to go on — besides the general direction that it was last seen — the two began wandering aimlessly. They've visited a few villages in the area, but that had been a fruitless effort.
Now, according to Merlin's magical expertise, the prince and servant found themselves lost in the middle of a magical and treacherous tempest. It was said to have three weathers happening at once, but they'd appear in waves — a rare phenomenon that anyone's ever got to witness or experience. Merlin claimed they would be alright for the first wave, but once the second wave settles, it'll get worse. It'll be severe the longer they stay outside.
They had been caught off guard as they were setting up camp, and with the sudden wail of the storm, their horses ran off utterly spooked. It was a good thing Merlin had unbuckled the bags beforehand, otherwise they'd be empty handed and lost.
"Is there any way you can sense a cave for us to wait in? I know you've said you were connected with nature or something. Ask it to lead you to a cave." The prince had stopped walking now, not because he didn't know where he was going, no, but because he needed to give Merlin some reprieve. They'd been trudging the forest nonstop ever since the storm fell upon them.
Merlin paused, a look akin to defeat plastered on his face. "I've tried that earlier, but using magic in this weather disorientates my mind. It's something like a headache, and it gets worse if I try to focus on a spell for too long."
"Nothing painful, I hope?" Arthur frowned. "You should've said something."
"It doesn't hurt, no. I just get a little dizzy, is all. It doesn't matter though, even if I did tell you, because there weren't any places for the both of us to hide nearby at the start."
"Well, there's no way we can stand out here and expect to live. Try once more, Merlin. I'll be here to support you should you stumble."
"No way. If I pass out from trying too hard, you'll become vulnerable. That's not to say that I doubt you as a swordsman, Arthur, but you'll have to carry me and you'll be blinded by night."
"Then don't let it get to that point, Merlin. I'm not asking you to knock yourself out; your head is already as fragile as it is."
Merlin slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes, turning his head as he sighed exasperatedly. "As you say, my lord."
Arthur was about ready to reprimand him about how mockingly he addressed him, much like the second time they met, but he stopped short when he noticed Merlin's irises shifting colors. Molten gold overtook the blue of his eyes like ink in water as Merlin began to seek outwardly with his magic.
The sensation was still relatively new to Arthur, only having the chance to see Merlin perform magic a few handful of times. Most of the time, the sorcerer was using it while Arthur was otherwise preoccupied with fending off enemies who wanted him dead. Whenever he saw those golden eyes up close, as it was all the other times before, it near stole his breath away. He always held it in, stilling his body as to hopefully not distract Merlin from fulfilling his spectacles.
It didn't last as long as he would've liked, however. Merlin's blue eyes returned and settled on Arthur, slightly unfocused. He reached out to the servant, offering his arm in case Merlin would want something to hold onto. He did end up swaying slightly and lightly grabbing Arthur's forearm, but he recovered quickly.
"As luck would have it, there's a cabin northeast from here. It's abandoned from what I can tell, but it hasn't lost its structure to time or weather just yet."
"Excellent. Lead the way, Merlin."
── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ──
By the time they reached the small cabin, the world was hidden away underneath a layer of snow, leaving the forest desolated compared to what it was this morning.
Merlin worried at his bottom lip, which felt frozen by this point. Both he and the prince weren't dressed for the sudden frost, seeing as it was late summer when they'd left the safety of Camelot, so their clothes were damp from the snowfall. Arthur was probably doing worse — he was wearing his armor, and Merlin didn't doubt that he could feel the bitter cold biting away at his wet gambeson.
He allowed Arthur to head in first, knowing that the place was empty and threat-free. He followed him in and shut the door, heaving a heavy sigh while he dropped their bags in some lonesome corner.
"I'm just saying," Arthur continued. Merlin nearly forgot they were having a conversation about his magic on the way here. "If you claim to be magic, how come you can't just… stop this magical storm? Isn't it technically, well, you?"
"It's—" Merlin waved a hand in the air vaguely, "—complicated."
The servant stripped himself of his jacket, letting the wet material fall somewhere near the entryway before he went over to Arthur to help him out of his armor.
"Explain it. I can try to understand."
Merlin pursed his lips in thought. "Well… you know, already, how connected I am with nature: the seas, the sky, the land. But it's common knowledge that using so much power at once comes with a cost. Going against what is natural has been proven to be costly. I can’t just change the weather without expecting some sort of consequence.”
A loud crack of thunder sounded overhead, dragging on for a couple seconds too long for it to be a regular oncoming storm.
"You're saying this is natural?" Arthur raised a brow as Merlin continued sweeping his deft fingers along his figure, unbuckling the straps and knots with a quickness he's gained over the years of serving.
"Magic is natural," Merlin responded without much thought. "I was born with magic, remember?"
"So, logically speaking, this storm shall pass overnight?"
"It might go on a little longer than we suspect, but we should be fine, so long as we stay warm and inside."
Soon, with the two of them putting in the effort, Arthur's armor and gambeson was peeled off, leaving him in a thin undershirt and his breeches — both of which were mildly dampened.
"Start a fire, Merlin. It would do us some good, seeing as it's taken a turn for the worse out there. I'll grab our extra set of clothes from our bags."
Merlin obliged and headed towards the hearth at the far end of the room. Luckily, it was the furthest thing from the door, which made him hopeful that they'll be able to keep warm for the remainder of the night.
Taking a quick look around now, Merlin noted that the cabin itself lacked much furniture; the only thing present was a small table with one broken stool, a bedframe with a singular mattress — big enough for one person — and a dusty fur rug. The hearth was empty of any firewood, but Merlin knew he didn't need it if he was going to use magic to fuel the flames.
Without a word, a tendril of magic curled outward and into the ashy pit of the fireplace, lighting it up with a flash. A fire blossomed and unfurled, seeping warmth into Merlin that relieved the sores and bites of the harsh climate outside.
He didn't stand there basking in the warmth for long before Arthur joined him, staring appreciatively at the glow of the flames. "Well done."
"It's hardly a complicated spell." Merlin smiled, taking the preoffered clothes in Arthur's hands.
"Yes, well—"
In an instant, the light of the fire died, snuffed out as if it was never there. They both stared at the hearth for a couple of moments, confused or expecting the fire to return. It never did.
"What did you do, Merlin?"
"Nothing! Why did you assume that it was me who put the fire out?"
"I don't know, it's your magic! Can you relight it?"
Merlin sent him a pointed look, but he obeyed anyway. This time around, the fire extinguished much quicker than it did initially.
"It must be the storm counteracting any spells that need magic to survive for a prolonged period of time," Merlin concluded. "If we had the wood to start the fire manually, it would probably remain compared to a magical fire."
"All the wood outside is wet and cold."
"It’s not like we can head out dressed as we are anyway. Get changed before you catch a cold."
"I give the orders, Merlin."
"Not if you fall ill, you don't."
Arthur cuffed him once on the back of his head before turning to the opposite corner to change.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
No matter what Merlin has said before, Arthur was fully capable of dressing himself. He'd gone without a proper manservant for a while before Merlin came along and his father had appointed the clumsy oaf as a worker in the royal household. Arthur wasn't that helpless; he can do fine on his own — maybe even better it seems.
Arthur got to finish redressing first, noticing only after he turned, expecting Merlin to be done as well. What he did not expect to see was Merlin's pale skin, bathed in soft moonlight pouring from a singular window, to be displayed so openly. His shirt was pulled halfway down his head, but Arthur took the moment to drink in the line of his back, his eyes trailing slowly along all the visible scars and toned muscles that made up his lithe frame.
It's not the first time he's seen glimpses of those scars — testaments to his loyalty to Arthur for each time he's saved the prince — though the sight is rare. He's seen them on hunting trips when they wash in streams with the other knights, but that was seldom. Merlin always preferred to bathe after he had set up camp, which also happened to be when everyone else was drying off. Arthur understood that there would be fewer questions that way, but it did little to quell the curiosity that stirred whenever Merlin let even a glimpse of that pale, carefully hidden world show.
Unfortunately, just like his magic, the view of Merlin's fair skin didn't last long for curious eyes. The coarse fabric of his tunic fell between Arthur's gaze and the plane of skin, reminding him to look away.
"What shall we do about the sleeping arrangements?" Merlin queried, turning around to collect Arthur's clothes.
Arthur handed them to him, pondering for an answer. "Maybe one of us could take the mattress and the rug as a blanket while the other takes both of the bedrolls?"
"The rug's dusty."
"Dust it off with a spell. It wouldn't take magic to keep it clean, would it?"
"No, I suppose not. The rug's big enough for the both of us though. Shouldn't we share it? The bedroll won't be enough to cover against the chill."
"I guess it would be smart to keep both of our body heat in one place. Get to it then."
After Merlin had cleaned the fur rug from dust and dirt, the pair had a little argument on where they should sleep. Initially, it was thought that they would lay out the bedrolls and sleep on them, but someone had protested and claimed the floor would be too hard on their backs by morning. It wouldn't be like sleeping on the earth during hunting trips.
They settled on sharing the single mattress (after Merlin spelled that clean as well). It would force them to huddle close, but that was the idea. After all, they had to somehow stay warm without a fire for the night.
It felt overly snug as they squeezed onto the bed, limbs crossing and tangling in the process, but they've slept beside one another before, so the proximity wasn't anything new. The only thing that felt unsettling all of a sudden was their mingled breaths in the space inches between their faces.
Blue eyes stared into a matching pair, tentative yet familiar. Their hands rested in the space between them, close enough that their knuckles grazed. There was no sound other than the howl of wind against the rattling window. The silence otherwise accompanied them as they held each other’s gaze.
Moments like these were difficult for the prince to decipher. They’ve shared lingering stares before, whenever Merlin waxed poetic about Arthur becoming a great king, or when they comfort the other after a particularly bad day. Rarely was it in the quiet of night, when it was just the two of them in their own little bubble.
For some years Arthur had accepted his feelings for the sorcerer, obviously never acting upon them in fear of Merlin only accepting out of duty, but he's learned to grow out of that mindset — Merlin didn't care for title and ranks. He wouldn't have to be afraid of a rejection (or acceptance) because of that fact.
"You're thinking too loudly."
"What?" Arthur blinked.
"What's on your mind?"
"Nothing," he replied, a bit too quickly.
Merlin knitted his brows together in confusion. "I thought we wouldn't keep any secrets anymore. What's with you tonight? You've been strangely quiet."
"It's… personal, Merlin. It's not something I can share with anyone, so don't worry about it."
"How could I not? My job is to protect you, Arthur."
The words were spoken so softly, and Arthur had nearly missed them because all he could focus on was the look Merlin made as he said that. It was one so full of devotion, one he's come to eagerly remember.
Arthur half cleared his throat and half scoffed. "It's the other way around. I'm the knight; therefore, I do the protecting."
"That doesn't ever stop me from saving you."
"And I wouldn't be so against that if you would at least pay attention to yourself as well. You're scrawny; you don't know how to wield a sword effectively; you don't even wear armor."
"Are you worried about me?" Merlin teased lightly.
"Yes." Arthur expressed with so much stress that the small smile on Merlin's face faltered. The air about them became vulnerable once more, which Arthur could've blamed on why he started speaking without thinking. Maybe he had hoped that he could say all that was on his mind before he chickened out. "You're important to me, Merlin. Not only because you're my best friend, but because—…"
The words got caught in his throat before he could get any further. He felt his face heat in embarrassment as he let his speechlessness hang in the air. He would have to hope that Merlin couldn't see the flush in the darkness.
"Because? Because what, Arthur? Tell me."
"Because I trust you," he settled on instead. He would try to tell him, even if it was through a roundabout way because he'd never get this opportunity again: away from Camelot and her prying eyes. His heart pounded as he urged himself to continue, trying to find the courage within him. "No matter what, you offer me good counsel. You listen and you have me in your best interest—or so I would hope—and we've known each other for a very long time. Admittedly, I… I keep you close to my heart, Merlin."
Arthur held his breath, feeling the world around him go dead as it narrowed in to watch this moment — this moment where he lay his heart bare for Merlin. Nervousness crept up on him in the end, making him look away so he couldn't read the expression on Merlin's face if there was one.
"And I you, my lord."
The tone of reverence gave Arthur some promise, so he returned his gaze to Merlin.
"But how close?" He whispered in turn.
In the darkness, Arthur felt Merlin's hand grabbing his own where it rested between them. Merlin guided it to his own heart, where Arthur could feel its rhythm matching his own racing one.
"It beats for you alone, Arthur. Everything I do is for you—only you," Merlin said, like it was set in stone.
Arthur felt as though something struck deeply in his heart at Merlin's proclamation. It rang true of what he knew of the servant's loyalty, devotion, and affections. It warmed his own heart, making it swell with a profound feeling of love and pride.
"Merlin…" he breathed, not knowing what to say in the wake of this revelation.
"You must know it to be true, Arthur." Merlin's words came out softly, low as if Arthur wasn't meant to hear this confession. "You must know how much I love you."
Arthur's chest tightened as if Merlin was squeezing all the love from him. He couldn't contain himself as he slowly shuffled forward, using his hand that was already on Merlin's chest to take hold of the tunic to pull him halfway.
Merlin had probably anticipated this and moved to grasp at Arthur's arm, shifting closer until their lips were a hair's breadth away, lingering on the cusp of their restraint. To his credit, Merlin stopped short when Arthur did.
"Tell me again."
"Arthur," Merlin's voice laced with a mix of mild confusion and impatience.
"Tell me."
"I love you—with everything that I was and with everything that I am."
As soon as those words left him, Arthur closed the gap between them, his lips landing on Merlin's clumsily in the dark. They held onto each other tightly, pressing their bodies closely to erase any sliver of space that separated them. The kiss itself was innocent and soft, with both men testing the waters before finally surging forward to explore.
Arthur rolled forward, bringing his upper body over Merlin's, bracketing him between his forearms. Merlin's hands reached up to cup the sides of Arthur's cheek and jaw, and soon it threaded into his hair, mussing it up.
"Arth'r…" Merlin managed between kisses. "Gods, Arthur…"
Their lips continued to slide against each other in a fervent rush, Arthur kissing Merlin deeply each time his lips parted for breath. His train of thought was reduced to very little, filled only with the sounds of heavy breathing and his name being spoken every now and then. They were both growing breathless, but Arthur never strayed from Merlin for long. For as long Merlin would allow it, he would stay glued to him forever.
"Arth—Arthur," Merlin began swatting aimlessly after a couple of minutes, hitting Arthur's face a couple of times. "Let me breathe for a moment, will you?"
"Hnnmf, sorry,” he groaned, kissing Merlin once on the cheek before retreating.
Arthur laid back, falling beside Merlin again as he wiped the saliva from the corners of his mouth. His heart remained a constant beating drum in his ears, pumping his blood everywhere and leaving his body warmed. Merlin was still catching his breath, and Arthur found himself breathing in tandem.
"I didn't think you were so…"
Arthur turned his head to the side to peek at Merlin. He couldn't see too well, but he could see the dark silhouette of his hair sticking up in multiple directions from when Arthur had cradled his head to deepen their kiss. He didn't think his heart would ever stop hammering in his chest, thinking back on it now.
"So what? Bad? Half decent? Spit it out, Merlin.”
“…Eager.”
Arthur raised a brow, knowing Merlin could picture his inquiring expression in the silence that followed.
“Which is… good. You’re a very good kisser.”
“Tell me more.” Arthur simpered, turning on his side to slide closer to Merlin on the already small bed.
“You’re such a prat.” Merlin sighed, the sound of a smile playing into his words.
“Does that mean you won’t kiss me again?”
Now it was Merlin who turned his head towards Arthur’s direction. He fell quiet for a minute, which had Arthur reeling anxiously, but then he spoke up rather lightheartedly.
“I was going to say something nice and sweet, but I think your ego has been fed enough.”
“Not nearly. Come on, tell me more of how good a kisser I am.”
“Why would I do that? Your head is already as big as your waist.”
“Merlin!”
A hearty laugh echoed out of Merlin in response, the sound warming Arthur’s core, and the prince couldn’t help but smile along.
“We should really get some rest, Arthur.”
“Why? I don’t think I can fall asleep after kissing you silly for the first time. I’ve been wanting to for years.”
“We’ll have time to get back to it in the morning. The storm’s not really going anywhere.”
“But—“
Arthur felt a warm hand resting upon his cheek as Merlin’s presence slid closer.
“I’ll offer you a goodnight kiss, how about that?”
Arthur hummed an agreement and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Merlin’s lips, much more gracefully this time around. It held for a couple of sweet and blissful seconds before they both pulled away, each with a sappy grin on their face.
“I love you,” Arthur murmured, closing his eyes. “With everything that I am, and with everything that I will become.”
“And I you, Arthur.”