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The fire in the great hall had long since burned low.
Most nights, Camelot quieted quickly after supper. Knights retired to barracks, servants drifted home half-asleep, and even the corridors themselves seemed to settle into silence. But tonight laughter still echoed faintly through the castle.
Arthur blamed Gwaine.
Merlin blamed the wine.
Either way, the Round Table had refused to disperse.
“You’re cheating,” Leon said flatly.
“I’m winning,” Gwaine corrected, grinning as he tossed another carved game piece onto the board.
“That is not the same thing.”
“It is when I’m prettier than you.”
Percival barked a laugh from where he sat sprawled beside the hearth. Elyan nearly choked on his drink. Gwen shook her head fondly from Arthur’s chair while Morgana leaned lazily against the table, smiling in a way she rarely had in years past. Warm. Easy. Home.
Arthur looked around the room and felt something unfamiliar settle inside his chest.
Peace.
Not the fragile kind won after battle. Not the wary silence before another kingdom threatened war. Real peace.
Camelot alive and safe and full.
Merlin stood near the hearth, sleeves rolled to his elbows as he passed out fresh mugs of cider. His ears were pink from the heat of the fire.
Or perhaps from Arthur staring at him.
Again.
“You’re doing it again,” Morgana said quietly beside him.
Arthur blinked. “Doing what?”
“That thing where you look at Merlin as if the sun personally rose for you this morning.”
Arthur nearly inhaled his own tongue.
“I do not.”
Morgana lifted a brow.
Across the room Merlin laughed at something Gwaine said, bright and unguarded, and Arthur’s chest gave a traitorous ache.
“Oh,” Gwen whispered beside Morgana. “He’s got it bad.”
“I hate all of you,” Arthur muttered.
Leon looked up immediately. “Your Highness, respectfully, we’ve known for years.”
Arthur froze.
The room went silent for precisely one heartbeat.
Then:
“Years,” Elyan repeated.
“Absolutely years,” Percival agreed.
“You once rode three days without rest because Merlin had a fever,” Gwen added gently.
Arthur pointed at her in outrage. “He was dying.”
“He had a cold,” Morgana said.
“A very aggressive cold.”
Gwaine grinned wickedly. “Remember when Arthur banned anyone else from polishing his armor because Merlin ‘does it properly’?”
“You did say that,” Leon added helpfully.
Arthur turned slowly toward Merlin, who had gone completely still beside the fire.
“…You all knew?” Merlin asked weakly.
“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen said. “We thought you knew.”
Merlin stared at Arthur.
Arthur stared back.
The silence stretched.
Then Merlin said, very carefully, “You’re in love with me?”
The entire Round Table leaned forward.
Arthur considered throwing himself into the moat.
Instead he lifted his chin with as much dignity as possible and said, “Unfortunately.”
To Arthur’s horror, Merlin’s eyes immediately filled with tears.
“Oh no,” Arthur said at once, panic replacing every coherent thought in his mind. “No, no, don’t do that. I take it back.”
“You cannot take back being in love with someone,” Morgana informed him.
“I can certainly try.”
But Merlin was smiling now. Softly. Wonderingly.
“You absolute idiot,” Merlin whispered.
Arthur frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You really didn’t know?”
Arthur opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Gwaine made an offended sound. “I refuse to believe the king of Camelot is this stupid.”
“Careful,” Leon warned. “That is still technically treason.”
Merlin crossed the room before Arthur could think another thought. The firelight caught gold in his eyes.
“So,” Merlin said quietly, “just to be clear… you love me?”
Arthur looked at him for a long moment.
At the servant who had become his closest friend. At the man who had stood beside him through wars and grief and destiny itself. At the person Arthur trusted with every fragile part of himself.
“Yes,” Arthur said simply.
Merlin’s breath hitched.
Then, to the delight of every knight in the room, Merlin grabbed Arthur by the front of his tunic and kissed him.
The hall erupted immediately.
Percival nearly knocked over the table cheering. Elyan whooped loudly enough to wake half the castle. Gwen buried her face in Morgana’s shoulder laughing while Leon looked deeply exhausted, as though he had personally waited ten years for this moment.
Arthur barely heard any of it.
Merlin kissed like honesty felt. Warm and careful and real.
When they finally pulled apart, Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin’s and laughed softly under his breath.
“You could’ve said something sooner.”
Merlin looked deeply offended. “Me? You’re the king.”
“Yes, but you’re terrifying.”
“That is true,” Gwaine nodded solemnly.
Merlin rolled his eyes, though his cheeks remained pink.
Arthur reached for his hand beneath the table without thinking. Merlin threaded their fingers together instantly.
And just like that, it felt natural.
As if it had always been meant to happen this way.
Around them the Round Table slowly returned to noise and teasing and laughter. Camelot breathed on, warm and alive.
Arthur glanced around the room once more. His knights. Gwen. Morgana smiling freely at last. Merlin beside him.
Family.
For all the prophecies spoken about him, for all the legends destined to remember his name, Arthur thought perhaps this was the greatest thing he would ever build.
Not a kingdom.
A home.