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Arthur’s heard rumours, whispered in the dark corners of Camelot where Uther’s law is yet to tread, of the bond of true love stitching a pattern of your lover’s wounds on your body. He hadn’t dared believe them. He hadn’t hoped until Merlin nicked his finger slicing an apple for Arthur one day and on Arthur’s thumb bloomed a fiery red line. Then he had rejoiced; then he had given in.
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done
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cant even blame arthur for ths misunderstanding ouu ive alr read the og fic n yet i too MISUNDERSTOOD 😭
“I love you,” he mumbles into Merlin’s neck. “I love you. I love you, Merlin. If only you wouldn’t smile so much, if only you wouldn’t fiddle with your hands in front of me, if only you would remember your station and keep your mouth shut I wouldn’t adore you as much as I do.”
“You really are utterly pissed,” Merlin says, laughing. “Fuck’s sake, Arthur—I love you too, okay? You’re my friend and I would gladly die for you.”
Arthur grins and slowly pulls away from Merlin to look at him.
Merlin flushes a bit and ducks his head. He says, “I need to ask you permission for something.”
“You can have anything you want,” Arthur promises, cradling Merlin’s face in open, drunken devotion.
“I want to get married to the person I cherish. Tomorrow, if possible,” Merlin says, the gentlest quirk to his mouth.
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啊好甜
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