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Merlin was about to lose any shred of sanity he had left. Until the wee hours of the night before, and from the moment he woke up that morning before dawn, he'd been running all around the castle and kingdom, running errands.
For Gaius: Delivering medicines, gathering all sorts of herbs, making sure it all got put on record, cleaning the court physician chambers, organizing all their ingredients and supplies.
And for Arthur: Polishing his chainmail and armor, sharpening his swords. Washing, drying, and putting away all of his clothes, bed linen, and even the drapes, tidying his room, scrubbing the floors, mucking the stables, reshoeing his horses, and cleaning their saddles and bridles.
Merlin did just about everything they could think of that needed doing. By dusk, he had finally finished. All he wanted to do was lie down in his bed and sleep for three days straight, but he was afraid that if he set foot back in the castle, someone would find something else for him to do.
So even though he was sweaty, smelly, and so tired he could barely think straight, he stayed in the village. He tried sitting down for a small rest, just against the alley wall of a little shop, but got brushed away by an old lady wielding a broom and a few choice words for the ‘likes’ of him.
He trudged around the village, searching for a place to call his temporary bed, just for a few hours. His eye caught the local tavern. It was a bit seedy, but it was still rather early in the evening; maybe they wouldn't mind him resting his head on the bar for a while.
Well, they did mind. Told him to get a pint or scram. He took a mead he had no intention of drinking and tried going back to sleep.
Merlin began to drift off when he felt the cool mug dripping condensation onto the counter where he lay.
Despite what King Arthur thought, Merlin hadn't stepped foot in the tavern in ages, and the last and only time he did, he didn't even drink anything. Besides the couple of times he'd had a celebratory glass of wine with his mother or Gaius, Merlin never drank.
It had been too much of a risk. What if he drank too much and got careless? What if he revealed his magic? What if he hurt someone?
But now, Arthur knew, and Merlin had better control over his power than ever. There was nothing stopping him from finally indulging in a simple glass of mead. He lifted his lips to the rim and drank, the sweet honey drink slipping down his throat. Before he knew it, he hit the dregs and his face felt warm.
"Say, barkeep," Merlin said, leaning forward. "What else do you have back there?"
Merlin tried the blackberry cider and immediately got another. After that, a tankard of pale ale, a raspberry melomel, a quart of dark lager, and a flagon of wine.
After the second blackberry cider, Merlin noticed the tavern getting busier and found himself among the crowd, laughing and carrying on with the other patrons. He wasn't too sure what he was saying, but he had his audience in tears. They slapped his back and ordered him another round through their loud guffaws.
Merlin kept stumbling and slurring his words, but so did everyone else. He felt right at home. So warm, so appreciated, so free. This is what he'd been missing out on all those years.
His new friends, whose names he didn't quite catch, convinced him to do a little drinking tradition they created. The group all slung their arms over each other's shoulders and formed a circle. They kicked their legs, first left, then right, and over again, chanting some silly song. Then, they all raced to the bar and chugged their drinks as fast as they could, slamming the cup on the counter and whooping when they finished.
Merlin followed suit. His cup was so small, but the alcohol was stronger than anything he’d had so far. It burned his throat. He gagged and coughed, feeling an intense wave of nausea take over him. He put his head down until it subsided, then whipped his head upright and hollered with new fervor.
…
"Where the hell is Merlin?" King Arthur demanded, storming into the physician's workshop. "I have been calling for him for twenty minutes!"
Gaius nearly jumped out of his skin. He stood up from his table as Arthur swept past him, checking his servant's chambers for himself.
Gaius' brow furrowed. "I thought he was with you. I haven't seen him since midday."
The King scowled at the empty room. "Nor I, since dinner. You might think, Gaius, that he would have some semblance of time management at this point."
"Um, sire?" A small voice said.
Arthur and Gaius whipped around to find a young castle guard standing, fidgeting in the doorway.
"What is it? Did you find Merlin?"
"Yes, s-sire."
"Well, spit it out!"
"He's at the t-tavern, sire."
Gaius' brows shot up in surprise. Of all the excuses he had ever conjured to cover for Merlin, that one had never once been true.
Arthur's mouth slowly curled into a sly grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He looked back at Gaius in utter glee. "Oh, I have got to see this."
…
King Arthur stepped into the local tavern, which seemed more lively than usual. It was packed with patrons, most of them bellowing in song together.
Arthur made his way through the crowd, heading for the bar counter. He recognized the song, even through the cacophony, he knew its tune well. An old Camelot nursery rhyme, with a few extra adult verses that are almost a tradition to learn at a far-too-young age.
Arthur hummed along, scanning the crowd for his servant.
He wasn't too hard to find, as soon enough, he was hoisted onto a table, marching and cheering along with the song. He raised his glass with a yell and everyone did the same.
"Please sire," croaked the barkeep behind him. "Get him out of here."
Arthur looked at Merlin, totally making a fool of himself, slurring and stumbling about. He felt a twinge of embarrassment, his manservant making a mockery of castle staff, but he was more entertained than he was annoyed. He'd never seen Merlin drunk before.
As he moved languidly through the crowd, Merlin greeted everyone he passed as the dearest of old friends. Nicknames, inside jokes, special handshakes, all around until he finally came face to face with King Arthur.
Merlin gasped and quickly dropped to one knee and bowed his head. It was a little too fast and he toppled over. After steadying himself, he slurred, "My lord, King Arthur."
The patrons around them began to bow as well.
Arthur quickly waved them off. "Upright, the lot of you. I'm just here for my servant." He took Merlin's wrist and yanked him up. "Get off the floor." He set a strong hand on his wavering frame. "All those times I couldn't find you and you were here. I've finally caught you, red-handed."
Merlin looked at his hands in confusion, then back up at Arthur with surprise, like he just noticed he was standing there. "Arthur! Have you tried the blackberry cider?"
"No, but I'm sure you have had plenty enough for the both of us."
"How did you know?" Merlin asked incredulously.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You reek of it. And you’re stupider than usual. Come now, let's go home."
"But this is my home now!" Merlin protested. "You must meet my friends! Stay for dinner!"
He was quickly losing his patience. "Say your goodbyes. Let's go."
"No!" Merlin wrenched from his grasp and disappeared into the crowd.
The barkeep cleared his throat and slid the bill across the counter. The King inspected the tab and sniffed, taking a deep breath.
"MERLIN!"
Not a moment later, he had his servant by the ear, dragging him back to the castle. But, the man was drunk, tripping over every crack in the stone, every leaf, every shadow they crossed. Bumbling and prattling on incessantly. Arthur was losing any shred of patience he had left.
"Arthur!" Merlin let out a strangled shriek as he was thrown over the King's shoulder like a sack of meat. He kicked his legs. "Put me down!"
"Oh, I intend to. You have caused quite enough trouble today."
Merlin shifted and groaned. "I'm going to cause some trouble all over your back if you don't put me down."
"You had better not," Arthur warned. "But, then again, I'm not the one doing the laundry, am I?"
Merlin swallowed. Only once they reached the doors to the castle did Arthur finally set him down. He immediately pitched over the nearest potted plant and retched loudly.
Gaius appeared from around the corner and rushed over. "Oh my! Merlin! Are you alright?"
Merlin wiped his mouth and gave him a big, cheeky grin and a thumbs up.
Arthur chuckled. "He won't be in the morning."
"My apologies, sire," Gaius said, helping Merlin up. "I shall get him to his chambers."
Arthur watched as the two slowly made their way down the hallway, Merlin chattering on and Gaius patting his back.
It had been a few months since King Arthur had learned of Merlin's true nature, his magic, yet he still knew next to nothing about it. Perhaps out of habit, it wasn't something Merlin liked to discuss, and in turn, Arthur wasn't too sure how to talk about it.
Merlin had always been a mystery to him. He knew his servant well, but he still managed to surprise him. Especially since discovering his magic, Arthur couldn't help but dwell on just how much of Merlin he hadn't seen.
He jogged after them, catching up with Gaius and taking Merlin's other arm.
"I've got him, sire," Gaius assured him.
Merlin struggled against their hold. "Unhand me! I will not be silenced!"
"We're just taking you to bed, idiot.”
"You could at least buy me dinner first."
With his free hand, Arthur pulled the tavern bill from his pocket and inspected it. "I did! You don't remember scarfing down three roast chickens, a whole pie, and a tray of pastries?"
Merlin looked confused. "No." Then, he broke into a fit of laughter. "Wait, yes, the peach pie! Olaf wagered me a round if I could get it to stick to the ceiling!"
Arthur raised a brow. "Is that why there is a clean-up charge?"
"No, most of the pie landed back on him, but he still ate it!" He cackled. And kept cackling, harder and harder, so much so that his body began to go limp and they fought to keep him upright.
Gaius and Arthur exchanged a look behind Merlin's head.
Gaius shrugged. "I have never seen him like this."
"Of course not!" Merlin shouted. After he was promptly shushed, he quietly added, "I have never been like this."
"You have always been a bumbling idiot, Merlin." Arthur quipped.
"Never a drunk bumbling idiot!" Merlin said cheekily. As they entered the physician's chambers, he broke loose from their grasp and immediately bumped into the table, knocking several glass bottles to the floor.
"Merlin!"
He spun around, looking down at the shattered mess. He covered his mouth with his hand. "Gaius... I am so sorry."
Gaius sighed and picked up the broom. "Sit down. Please." He turned to Arthur. "I've got him from here, sire. Thank you for bringing him home."
"It's been a pleasure." Arthur smiled but did not make any moves to leave. Instead, he knelt in front of Merlin, searching his servant's face for a moment. His chin rested heavily in his hand, his blue eyes looking around the room, blinking slowly.
"Merlin," said Arthur. "You have never been drunk before?"
Merlin shook his head like a dog shaking the wet from its fur. "It's quite nice, really, I see the appeal."
Arthur chuckled a little. "You just vomited, less than five minutes ago."
"Right," Merlin remembered with a grimace, smacking his lips. "Gross."
Arthur sat next to him and patted his back. "So, all that time you spent in the tavern... what were you really up to?"
"Saving your royal arse." He replied tiredly.
"Right..."
Merlin just nodded. Arthur glanced at Gaius, who grimaced.
"Sire..." Gaius approached humbly, head bowed. He glanced miserably at the young warlock. “It was I who came up with the, um, tavern excuse.”
Arthur stared.
“Most of the time, if he was missing, he was helping you.” Gaius went on. “Protecting you in one way or another. He’s done so much for you. For the kingdom. But Uther…we had to be careful. I just wish I had been a little more careful with my lie. I’m deeply sorry, your Majesty.”
Arthur was quiet. He thought of all the ways he had punished Merlin for spending so much time in the tavern. He wanted to be upset with Gaius. Couldn't he have thought of a better excuse; one that didn't paint Merlin in such a light?
But if it weren't for his father's war on magic, neither of them would have had to resort to lies to keep their lives, those lives that they had dedicated to the kingdom of Camelot. Gaius just wanted to protect Merlin, and all Merlin wanted was to protect Arthur. And he was punished for it. And he took it all, most nobly.
They had been by each other's sides for ten years.
He wondered how many times he'd wrongfully punished Merlin. How many times he’d stood silent through Uther’s tirades and rampages. Arthur was raised to hate magic, despite being born from it, and Merlin had stayed by his side and supported him through every moment of it.
His stomach twisted.
"You did what you had to do, Gaius," Arthur said, stoic. He stood, still studying Merlin's face. "I have much to make up for."
He went up the small set of stairs, into Merlin's little room. It was mostly used for storage besides his bed, trunk, and desk.
He went to prepare the bed but realized how terribly small it was. There was no way Merlin fit on it. He was smaller than Arthur, but not much shorter. He sat down to see just how far his feet would hang over the edge and winced. It was thin, too. Barely an old bedroll upon a plank of wood. It creaked beneath his weight.
And Merlin slept there, nearly every night, with no complaint, for the last decade.
There were many things Arthur wanted to make up for, but it was late. Tomorrow, a new bed. But tonight, if he could just give him a decent night's rest, especially in his drunken state, then that's what he would do.
He joined them back downstairs.
Gaius noticed him and rose to his feet. "Alright, time for bed, Merlin."
Arthur set a hand on his shoulder. "I shall take care of him."
Gaius looked nervous. "Are you sure, sire?"
"I'm sure. I promise I will do right by him." He said in earnest. He studied the physician's face. He was so worried. Merlin meant a great deal to Arthur, but Merlin was a son to Gaius.
Arthur felt a pang in his heart and set a hand on the old man's shoulder. "I will take care of him. Plenty of water and rest." He took a deep breath. "He told me he'd never gotten drunk before because he was afraid he would reveal his magic. Now that I know...Well, there is nothing to fear. I'll protect him, even if it's from himself."
Gaius stared at him a moment before moving to the shelf, murmuring and poking around until he produced a small vial filled with blue liquid and a flask.
"A remedy he can take in the morning. Should ease the bottleache."
"Thank you."
Gaius bowed respectfully.
…
Arthur regretted making that promise to Gaius, for only ten minutes later, he wanted nothing but to wring Merlin’s neck. He was squirming and pulling, trying to take off down every corridor they passed. Jabbering way too loudly, right in his ear.
When they finally reached Arthur’s chambers, Merlin burst through the door.
“I don’t want to do any more chores!” He called out into the empty room with his arms outstretched. He spun around and knocked himself into a chair, falling into a sitting position, then promptly falling out, tipping and taking the chair to the ground with him, looking around in shock like he wasn’t sure how it all happened.
Arthur shook his head with a small smile. “You are a mess, Merlin.”
Merlin frowned, lifting his arm and smelling himself. He made a face. “Indeed, sire. Shall I have a bath then?” He asked, but already started removing his boots.
“Now?” Arthur asked. “Perhaps you should rest first.” But after he said it, he quickly realized that he hadn’t quite thought through this plan to treat Merlin.
He intended for his servant to sleep in a decent bed for once, but he supposed that meant his own.
They’d shared a bed before, technically, in their travels when they would sleep back to back by the fire for warmth. However, things were different on their quests. Around the firelight, he wouldn’t mention it, but he felt their walls come down. Upon returning to the castle, they would both build them right back up. It was a vicious cycle.
They’d never shared his bed.
Merlin was rather filthy and Arthur didn’t want all that on his nice clean sheets and pillows.
He could get the water himself, but he was nervous his silly servant might make an even bigger mess while he was gone. Instead, he poked his head out into the hallway and called for a guard. The same guard from earlier jogged up.
“Tristan, find a servant and have them bring hot water for a bath. Please.”
“Yes, sire! Right away!”
Arthur helped Merlin fight another wave of nausea as the other servants hurried the water into the bathing chamber.
He stared at the ceiling as he helped Merlin out of his garments and he lowered himself down into the water.
“I can bathe myself.” Merlin insisted.
“Then do it.” Arthur huffed as he turned around, but he did not leave.
A beat of quiet passed, only the sloshing of the bathwater reverberating against the stone walls.
Just as his mind started to drift, Merlin drawled out, “Aaarrrthhurrrr…”
“Merrrrlinn,” He responded, quirking a brow.
“I’m surely going to drown in here.” Merlin slurred back.
“You’re fine,” Arthur cracked a smile. “Even you aren’t dull enough to drown in the bath. Now, wash up. You reek.”
“Not very nice,” Merlin yawned.
“Neither is having to smell you.”
…
By the time Merlin was finished, the water and the night had gone cold. Arthur passed him a towel and some fresh garments and stepped back into the bedroom. The bedding had been replaced and the fireplace was lit.
Merlin had done this for him countless times before. Not that he was some drunkard, but when his life wasn’t being directly threatened and he had a chance to drink, he tended to go a little far. Merlin always managed to get him back to his chambers before he embarrassed himself too much and gave the knights the idea he couldn’t hold his liquor. For that he was grateful.
There was much he was grateful for. Much that he had not acknowledged for the sake of his pride. It was upsetting that it took him getting drunk to realize that, the depth of his loyalty to him.
Arthur told himself that he was simply making up for the past; giving his manservant a comfortable place to sleep for his first drunken night. He couldn’t ignore his heart racing.
He sat on the edge of his bed and waited, tapping his foot, biting his lip, pulling at the cloth of his shirt.
Finally, Merlin emerged, Arthur’s clothes hanging off him like a robe.
“Feeling better?” He asked casually.
Merlin nodded, yawned, and shivered all at once. He shuffled over to the fireplace and his eyes flashed gold, the old wood bursting into flames and roaring to life. He sat down on the floor in front of it.
“Hey,” Arthur warned. “No drunk magic. Come lay down before you catch something, or yourself, on fire.”
“Cold,” Merlin’s teeth chattered.
Arthur stood and gestured toward the bed. “Blankets.”
Merlin began to obey, but once he reached the foot of the bed, he faltered, eyeing the empty sheets. Arthur came around and guided him the rest of the way. Despite his hesitation, once he sat and sunk into the soft mattress, he laid the rest of the way down and cuddled into the linens, sighing contently.
Arthur took the other side of the bed and laid on top of the blankets, stock-still, staring at the ceiling. His whole life, he complained about all the lazy, incompetent, good-for-nothing servants he’d had to deal with. He never thought twice about grouping Merlin in along with the rest of them. However, it had always slightly puzzled him, how Merlin could be so dedicated yet so absent. He remembered wondering so often, “Where could he possibly be?”
Ten years. That sick feeling returned as Arthur thought back on all times his life had been threatened. All the time Merlin had his back. All those times he was so irritated that he was throwing things because he couldn’t find his manservant.
He cringed at the thought of his awful temper.
“Don’t be sad,” Merlin cooed, causing Arthur to jump in surprise. He had rolled over and was staring right at him and he hadn’t noticed.
“Go to sleep!” He clipped, then took a deep breath and corrected his tone. “Go to sleep, Merlin. I’m fine.”
Merlin peered at him skeptically but Arthur ignored him until he saw in his periphery that his eyes had fallen the rest of the way shut and his breathing steadied.
Then the King got up. He gently kissed the top of Merlin’s head, and didn’t return to his bed for the rest of the night.
…
Merlin awoke with a splitting headache. The last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes but something felt…wrong.
The air smelled suspiciously fresh for his stuffy old room. His body was sinking into the bed as if the mattress were melted butter. Upon his cheek, the softest silk covering the fluffiest pillow.
He’d made this bed thousands of times. He was in Arthur’s room. In Arthur’s bed.
He peeked one eye slowly open, half-expecting Arthur to be incredulously staring down at him. Instead, he recognized a familiar concoction waiting on the nightstand and he began to remember the night before.
His head throbbed as he recalled. The tavern, the ciders, the peach pie, Arthur dragging him out by his ear and carrying him back to the castle. He remembered going back to the physician’s quarters and talking to Gaius, but felt a little fuzzy on why he returned to Arthur’s chambers to bathe and sleep.
Merlin’s eyes widened as a thought came to him and he slowly turned over to look at the other side of the bed, finding it empty and cold. He sighed in relief, but also felt an odd twinge of sadness.
He steadily rose and sat up to take the restorative remedy and realized he was also wearing Arthur’s clothes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. What had he done?
Suddenly, he heard Arthur’s irritated voice coming down the hall. “I’ve got it! Finish the task I actually gave you. I want the wardrobe finished before lunch!”
Merlin launched to his feet. The doorknob was turning.
“…Please.” Arthur added before opening the door, bringing in a metal tray. His brows rose and his tone completely changed. “You’re up! Breakfast. Come sit.”
Merlin hesitantly padded over, watching as the King set down the tray, pulled out the chair in front of it, and then took his usual spot at the head of the table. He was wearing the same clothes Merlin had dressed him in the morning before and his eyes were drooping, bagged like he hadn’t slept. He felt a pang of guilt.
“You didn’t sleep.” Merlin found himself saying. They were his first words of the morning so his voice came out cracking and raspy.
Arthur didn’t respond but handed him a cup of water. As he drank, finding he was thirstier than he thought, he stared at the tray, full of food; roast chicken, bread and butter, porridge drizzled with honey, poached eggs, an assortment of dried and fresh fruits.
He set down the empty cup and caught his breath, taking his seat as Arthur refilled his cup with the pitcher.
“How are you feeling?” He asked.
“Hungry,” Merlin responded automatically. “My head hurts.”
“Sounds about right. Dig in.”
He still hesitated, for it all felt too strange, but he didn’t know what to say, and Merlin kept glancing at Arthur to try and read him, but he just looked exhausted.
Until he couldn’t ignore his stomach any longer, then he dug in.
…
When Merlin finished and sat back in his chair, Arthur leaned forward and asked so earnestly. “So…did you have fun?”
“What is happening?” Merlin blurted incredulously. He couldn’t hold back his unsettled confusion any longer, his head hurt enough as it was.
Arthur looked like he was going to roll his eyes, which would have put Merlin slightly more at ease, but then he stopped himself, took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, and answered simply:
“Breakfast.”
Maybe it was the bottleache, but Merlin felt himself get upset and he rolled his eyes instead. “Are you being so coy on purpose? What happened? Why have you brought me breakfast? Why do I remember bathing here?” He found himself lowering his voice. “Why am I wearing your clothes and why did I wake up in your bed?”
“You were drunk!” Arthur defended exasperatingly. “You were making a total fool of yourself. You know that reflects directly on me.”
“You make a total fool of me every chance you get.” Merlin countered. “What do you care if I save you the time and do it myself?”
Arthur cracked a smile, but his tone softened, and he asked earnestly, “Are you angry with me?”
“Yes!” He snapped and noticed the King’s eyes flash with confusion. Hurt. “No, I’m not.” He corrected and sighed, rubbing his temples. “I just—”
“You’re allowed to be. I have been terrible to you.”
“Is that what this is?” Merlin questioned. “Some sort of compensation?”
“I suppose so?” He said, more like a question. “Is that bad?
“It’s sudden…and unsettling. Just last week, you yelled at me about your bread being rock-hard, and then you threw it at me. Now, after a night I can’t quite remember…” He gestured vaguely. “This.”
Arthur considered that for a while. He trained his gaze on the window at the other end of the room and absently chewed his cheek, the bothered look on his face growing with every passing second. Finally, he hastily stood and snatched the bread from the tray, taking a bite, and throwing the rest at Merlin before walking off toward the door and said:
“If this bothers you, well, you are going to abhor the rest of it.”
“...The rest of it?”
They left Arthur’s quarters and walked just down the corridor to the only other door in that hall, which Merlin knew to be a storage room for extra bedding, decorations, torches, and firewood for the royal bedrooms.
Arthur placed his hand on the doorknob, but hesitated, screwing his eyes shut.
“Is something the matter, sire?”
He shook his head and stepped back, motioning for Merlin to open it instead. So with a brow raised, he did, not knowing what to expect.
The windows were open, blue velvet curtains swaying in the breeze, light and fresh air filling the room, which had been completely transformed.
All the old things had been cleared out. It was bigger than he realized, and all that space had been swept and mopped and partly covered with a woven rug. Along the wall, a large wooden wardrobe and matching dresser, several full bookshelves, and small paintings Merlin recognized from around the castle. Pots and bundles of plants and small lanterns had been hung from the high ceiling beams.
The fireplace was ablaze and the mantle adorned with a small wooden dragon figurine that he’d carved himself, a silver hourglass Gaius had gifted him long ago, a bronze astrolabe he had purchased from a travelling trader.
The chest at the end of the large blue feather bed was his as well. He opened the wardrobe and found it to be full of all his own clothes, as well as some new ones.
All of his belongings.
Merlin looked at Arthur, not knowing what to say in the slightest.
“For me?” He ended up settling on, the words coming out softly.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and avoided his gaze. “Um…yes. Do you like it?”
Merlin laughed and moved around the room, getting a closer look and admiring the details of his new room.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “When did you do this? Why?”
“Last night.” Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face. “Look, you started as Gaius’ assistant, but you have never been just that. You have done—I didn’t realize—I think…” He took in a steady breath and spoke firmly. Intentionally. “You deserve your own chambers. It has been a long time coming.”
Merlin stopped. “Why last night?”
“Because the idea came to me last night.”
“A long time coming, eh?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Come try your new bed. Your last one was atrocious.”
“And it took you a decade to notice? Is it as comfortable as the one I slept on last night?”
“I miss you drunk.” Arthur said flatly, laying his head back on the pillow. “Do you like it or not?”
“Of course I do.”
Arthur closed his eyes like he was trying to go to sleep, but asked calmly, “Then why do you tease me?”
Merlin sat down on the other side of the bed, his back to the King, still taking in the room. The idea of it all.
“Because why is the King of Camelot giving his manservant the only other room on this floor?”
“Because I want you closer.”
“Why not Morgana’s old room? Or Uther’s? They are close and empty.” Merlin suggested and then regretted it when Arthur’s eyes flew open and he glared daggers at him.
“I don’t want you in one of their rooms.” He emphasized ‘you’ and spat out ‘their’. “What’s wrong with this room?”
“It’s spectacular. This is the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Merlin tried hard to say earnestly, then tacked on, “For anyone, probably.”
“I’ve saved your life more times than I can count.” Arthur argued.
Merlin laughed. “Who cares if you’ve saved my life four times—” Arthur reached over and flicked his ear but he went on. “—I’ve saved you time after time in ways you can’t even comprehend!”
Arthur’s expression morphed into something shameful. “Yes, I heard.”
“What?”
“Last night,” He shifted uncomfortably. “when I brought you home from the tavern.”
Merlin’s face went a shade of pink. He laid his head down on the pillow but looked away, at the window where the curtains were catching the wind.
Arthur went on, “I was going on about finally catching you drinking, red-handed. Then, you told me you had never even been drunk before…” The words seemed to spill out of him. “...and that is when Gaius admitted that he’d made that up. Once, you had needed a cover story for being gone—for using magic to protect me—and that was the first thing he thought of, and it just stuck. And I never gave it a second thought. I never realized.”
Arthur’s hand touched his and they locked eyes. His brow was upturned, misty blue eyes studying his face intensely. It was then that he realized how close they were, lying in the bed, face-to-face.
“All this time…” He spoke gently, just a weighted whisper between them. “How could I not see all you have done for me? All that you are? Have I really been that blind?”
Arthur pouted because Merlin couldn't help but laugh, thinking back on all the times he thought to himself, ‘Could he really be this blind?’
From the first time they’d met, he had been using magic right under Arthur’s nose. Though he didn’t have the bloodhound sense for it like Uther, Merlin’s attempts to conceal the sorcery were often half-baked and frankly just ridiculous. It was a miracle he made it as long as he did.
“Yes.” Merlin answered. “I did not want to lie to you. But…” He swallowed.
“My father,” Arthur grimaced. “I understand.”
Merlin swallowed. He didn’t understand. Arthur now knew he had magic, but there was so much more to the story. If it had been up to him, he would have told him the day they met, and shown him a thing or two while he was at it.
Indeed, King Uther’s vehement hatred of sorcery and fearmongering was the primary issue, but it felt like each day it grew more complex. Their lives hung in the balance, relying on an intricate web of deceit.
“Arthur…” He felt his heart wrench. There was still so much to tell him. Things he might hate him for.
Arthur gazed into his eyes, holding him tighter and seemingly reading his thoughts. “I could never hate you, Merlin.”
It was strange what they couldn’t hide from each other, despite all the secrets they kept.
“It is all so complex…” Merlin managed to say, his voice washed in shame. Arthur’s blue eyes swam with similar guilt, tears gathering, but he blinked them away.
“Nothing about this Kingdom, my family, or you being a legendary wizard is simple.”
Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle. It was a dragon that first told him that their destinies were intertwined. It was never going to be straightforward.
“We have the rest of our lives to explain.” A beat passed and he added, “And I expect us to.” He cuddled up to Merlin. “Later.”
Merlin relaxed, melting into his embrace, repeating blissfully, “The rest of our lives.”
Merlin kissed the top of Arthur’s head and together, they drifted to sleep.