Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

From the time that Merlin wakes, he can feel his magic. It hums under his skin, like a snake slithering over his bones. It follows him, as it always does. As it has his whole life. He used to find it a comfort. A blanket of magic, protecting him from the coldness of everything else.

These days, though…Merlin almost prefers to be in Arthur’s company, rather than those who know the truth, because he can still pretend. He can still pretend his mistakes were not his own.

Of course, they were. He carries so many senseless deaths on his shoulders, so many failures in his wake, it’s a wonder Merlin is still standing at all.

It doesn’t make him any less cheerful. He may be troubled, and a little worn down, but Merlin always tries to keep his spirits high for those around him.

As with every other day, Merlin’s morning begins in the kitchens, beside Gwen.

“Good morning, Merlin!” She called out to him. Gwen knows about his magic. Does she pretend to be his friend, or is she really so forgiving for it all that her smile is genuine? Merlin isn’t sure, but he appreciates her friendship all the same.

“Morning, Gwen,” He responded with a grin.

The cook gives him a big smile and throws him an apple, which Merlin catches. Everyone in the kitchen is always giving him extra food. Merlin bites into it as he and Gwen talk about the duties the day will bring. Gwen has always informed Merlin of Arthur’s schedule, every morning, without fail.

“Arthur has to go to Council, then training with the knights, then lunch with the visiting King and his Lady.”

“And the King?” Merlin always liked to double check. He enjoys the relaxed face Arthur makes when he realizes he isn’t forced to eat with his awful excuse of a father.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Gwen whispered. She’s always been such a gossip. Merlin likes having her around. “Then he has to lead the patrol. Around nightfall, there will be a banquet which he’ll be expected to attend.”

“How boring,” Merlin teased. Gwen giggles in return, chatting about Morgana’s busy day.

“ —And you’ll never believe how rude that Queen has been!” She gossips, hands indignant on her hips.

“No!”

“Yes! She keeps ordering me around, poked fun at my hair, glares at Morgana, too. I don’t like the pair of them, not one bit.”

“Well considering her looks, it’s not surprising she’s so jealous of your beautiful curls, Gwen,” Merlin said, hoping to cheer up his friend.

“Oh, please, I’m a mess.” Gwen denied, though he could see she was flattered.

After Merlin finishes his apple, he gives a deep bow to Gwen, as always. In return, she does a ridiculous curtsy, and off they go to deliver their trays.

The trip from the kitchens to Arthur’s room is long, and in his boredom, Merlin grabs the biscuit from Arthur’s tray to stuff into his mouth. He’s still chewing it when he opens the door and calls out to his friend.

“Alright, wake up, sunshine!” As is the usual lately, Arthur does not stir. “Your royal pratness, you’ve got a busy day.” Merlin continued in his sing-song voice. He dropped the tray at the desk, then went to open the curtains.

The view from this room in particular is his favorite. The sunrise is gorgeous, highlighting the town, and the walkways, and the passerby. Even the garden far down below comes alive with the sun. He takes a moment to soak it in.

Eventually his gaze returned to a still sleeping Arthur.

“C’mooon,” Merlin drawled out, “Your people will start to think you’re a rock if you don’t start moving.” He sighed as Arthur showed no reaction to his pleas. He’s been sleeping in so much lately. But Merlin has developed a quick fix to this: He throws Arthur’s blankets off him, grabs the Prince’s wrist, and pulls him to the floor.

Which should be treason, really. But somehow Merlin knows he’ll get away with it.

“Ugh, hasn’t anyone told you I’m the Prince? You’re supposed to respect and fear me,” Arthur grumbled. Merlin laughed, because he couldn’t help it.

Arthur is his dearest friend. Even if he doesn’t know about Merlin’s magic, he still knows him so much more intimately than anyone else. And he always knows how to cheer Merlin up, always somehow able to make him laugh. What a wonderful thing it is, to have such a good friend by his side.

“Clearly not, because I don’t fear you, and I most definitely don’t respect you,” Merlin responded sarcastically. This, as Arthur knows already, is not true. Arthur is easily the person Merlin respects the most in the world. But Merlin doesn’t really have to say this, and it’s much easier to insult him.

“I saw you snacking on my breakfast, clotpole. Go fetch me more bread,” Arthur commanded. This particular voice of Arthur’s always makes Merlin laugh, because really, who does he think is in charge here? Merlin heads for the door anyway though, because bread does sound like a good idea.

He makes his way to the kitchens first, to grab another biscuit. He tucks it safely into his pocket, before making his way to his next chore.

It used to annoy Merlin, having to go all the way to the well to obtain water he can just as easily conjure. Even worse, having to carry two full pails all the way back up to Arthur’s room. But nowadays, Merlin doesn’t like to use his magic much. Not unless he has to. It’s just not worth it.

“Merlin, you idiot, I asked for bread,” Arthur greeted him upon his return.

In response, Merlin took the fresh biscuit from his pocket, looked directly at the Prince, and shoved it in his own mouth. Arthur gaped. Merlin reveled in this.

“I forgot it. Sorry, Sire.” He tried not to smile, but the look on Arthur’s face made him want to double-over, or ruffle his pretty hair.

Which is a perfectly normal thing to do to friends.

“You are the most incompetent servant in the entire castle!” Arthur yelled. Of course, from his tone of voice, Merlin can tell Arthur is only joking. He practically encourages Merlin to steal food. “Only my manservant would steal my bread. Twice.” Arthur threw some grapes at Merlin. He managed to catch a few in his mouth.

Merlin loves this. He loves being by Arthur’s side. He loves this easy banter, this teasing. He loves—

“Get in the bath while I tend to the fire.” Merlin said somewhat stiffly, cutting off his thoughts. He’s known Arthur for too long, really. It used to be simpler. Nowadays it’s like he’s having to keep his own thoughts on a chain.

He dumps the water into Arthur’s small basin, and quietly enchants it to be Arthur’s favorite temperature until he’s done. He only uses his magic he has to, but Arthur would notice if after all these years the bath suddenly had the ability to become cold. Obviously.

Merlin repeats everything Gwen had told him of Arthur’s schedule, getting somewhat bored and trailing off near the end.

“And for a second there I thought you were actually doing your job!” Arthur teased after Merlin had finished with a ‘blah, blah, blah.’

“It’s almost exactly the same as always! You shouldn’t always need me repeating it,” Merlin complained.

“There is nothing more important than a prince knowing his schedule, Merlin. If I had a more competent manservant this wouldn’t be such a problem,” Arthur shot back. Merlin gave his most dramatic sigh in response.

As Merlin passed the bath that Arthur now sits in, he couldn’t help but reach down and ruffle his hair. It’s just so blond. And soft. Should hair be that soft? Merlin doesn’t think so. But he’ll take any opportunity he can to ruffle it.

To bother Arthur, of course.

Merlin hums a tune as he moves around the room, completing his chores. His mother used to sing him this song, when he was much younger. He can’t remember the words now, but the tune is always in his head. Merlin, as he always does, finds focus in anything other than Arthur bathing, because if he pays attention to Arthur’s tense back, then he’ll want to go and give him a massage.

Which is a perfectly normal thing to want. What a good friend Merlin is, to see a back that needs massaging and want to help! But he doesn’t know how Arthur feels about those things. In the years that they’ve been friends, Merlin is always the one to initiate any sort of contact.

Not that Merlin has noticed.

When Merlin finishes picking out Arthur’s clothes for the day, however, he turns around to see Arthur, leaning back, eyes closed.

Which is fine. Except that sometimes Merlin has this absurd urge to compliment Arthur, for no reason at all, and so he can’t really stand Arthur looking so beautiful when he is supposed to be bathing.

“AYE!” Merlin leaned down next to Arthur, and screamed in his ear. Arthur threw his eyes open and turned to Merlin. He looked so surprised that Merlin couldn’t help but smile. “Stop sleeping on the job.”

Merlin ruffled Arthur’s hair again, because his hand was already so close. But he’d already done that today, so maybe it was too much. Except now he’s left his hand on Arthur’s head for a moment too long, overthinking it. In a saving stroke of genius, Merlin gripped Arthur’s head and shoved him completely under the water. He let go immediately and stood back up, cackling. Arthur resurfaced, coughing and sputtering. Yes, just regular, friendly banter. The same he’d do to Gwaine, really.

“Oh, you little—” Merlin is almost doubled over from laughter now, because Arthur has fully stood up from the tub. In a flash, Arthur is chasing him around the room, but Merlin is far too nimble for him.

“Oh, put some clothes on, prat!” Merlin called, still unable to control his laughter. He grabs the long cloth he set out for Arthur to use after his bath, and throws it behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin sees Arthur reach for the now empty breakfast tray and Merlin dropped to the ground, reaching to grab the clothes he’d laid out for Arthur.

“You’re supposed to dress me, you buffoon!” Arthur whined, laughing, as Merlin tossed the clothes at Arthur.

“Well, stop throwing things at me and I might be nicer to you.” Merlin answered. He assumed it was safe by now to stand up, and he put his hands on his hips as Arthur crossed the room.

Merlin dried him off and dressed him. Arthur never seems to care about when he’s naked. The first few times it happened it used to really throw Merlin, because who looks like that? But after a while, it just became another aspect of their friendship. Merlin almost doesn’t mind it when he’s naked now.

It’s all in good fun.

Merlin dresses Arthur in record time, and can’t help but sweep dust off of Arthur’s shoulders. There isn’t usually any dust. It’s just habit now. He’s been doing it for years.

“Alright, let’s get you to your meeting, prat,” Merlin said finally. He tried very hard not to reach for Arthur’s drying hair, but in the end he couldn’t help it. He tugs the pretty blond strands into place, annoyed at himself for touching Arthur’s hair on three separate occasions today.

Not that he’s counting.

Merlin's least favorite part of the day is going to Council. It’s all he can do to stand still, and perfectly upright, and not be allowed to say a single thing. Every once in a while, Arthur will glance at him with a knowing smirk or an annoyed eye roll, which helps.

Merlin wishes Morgana would be allowed to attend, so that he’d at least have Gwen beside him.

Instead, he stands, annoyed and alone, waiting for the minutes of Council to tick slowly by.

In fact, a lot of his daily duties consist of just standing. Watching. Merlin can’t imagine how awful it must be for normal servants, to stand all day and not even be allowed to complain. Luckily for him, Arthur never seems to mind.

Arthur just listens, sometimes teasing back, sometimes begging Merlin to shut up, which of course he doesn’t.

Today, as Merlin dresses him for training with the knights and complains about how absolutely awful one of the councilmen smells, Arthur is just quiet. Which is fine. Merlin refuses to let himself learn the spell to read minds, because with those big blue eyes staring back at him all the time, how would he ever be able to resist? And Arthur would never forgive him for it, anyways.

For any of it, probably.

On the training field, Merlin stands to the side, and watches. As he always does. He doesn’t mind this part of the day quite as much, for whatever reason. He supposes the entertainment is much better. Just as he convinces himself of this, Arthur pushes one of Uther’s knights to the ground. They hadn’t even been battling long. Arthur can easily beat every knight on the field, but Merlin knows a cheater when he sees one.

He recognizes that knight, too, one of the especially rude ones.

When Merlin had first started as Arthur’s servant, things were different. Merlin had been so much more callous with his magic, and just as flippant with his tongue. This spelled trouble. Uther’s knights were the majority back then, and most of them were rude, if not a little pushy.

Merlin isn’t sure when that all stopped. It couldn’t have been more than half a year in. The knights just began to realize that he was, for all intents and purposes, protected. The chubby one that Arthur had just knocked to the ground would still sometimes say an off-handed remark. For a while, Merlin had simply said a remark right back, knowing Arthur would approve. These days he doesn’t mind a jab or two.

Arthur has always been too forgiving. His jabs and insults have always been in tease. Sometimes Merlin needs to be reminded. Needs to be reprimanded.

Would Arthur forgive him so easily for his complaining and tardiness and mistakes if he knew the truth? Merlin doubts it.

Not that Arthur would kill him! Or even report him, really. But could Arthur ever really look at him the same?

Merlin can’t even look at himself in the mirror the same way he used to. He’s not the excited boy he had once been, that first day in Camelot.

Arthur battles each knight, winning each time. Which is no surprise at all. Arthur exceeds everyone, in every category. Anyone with eyes and ears would agree, Merlin thinks. It’s just an observation.

When Arthur is finished with his training, he returns to Merlin’s side.

“Not bad today. For a prat.” Merlin croaked out. He cleared his throat. Why did he sound so ridiculous when he tried to be nice?

“Am not!”

“You are. A royal one, too,” he teased, relieved for some reason that the joke had been the part Arthur paid attention to.

They trudge back toward Arthur’s quarters. Merlin can tell by the tenseness in Arthur’s shoulders that he is not excited about the lunch they must dress him for. When he asks Arthur about it, though, Arthur only dodges the question by asking what Merlin thinks of the visiting King and Queen.

“Haven’t seen them much around the castle.” Merlin replied. Then, after thinking for a moment, “But Gwen says Aviana is—”

“Queen Aviana.”

Merlin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at this. What does it matter? Especially in here, where a Prince is just Arthur, and a manservant his best friend?

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Aviana has been especially rude to Gwen.”

“Well, that’s never a good sign, is it?” Arthur said, which makes Merlin smile. Arthur is, above all else, kind. He’s so thoughtful, and considerate, and he would save anyone in the castle, even if it cost him his life. Arthur has always been like this, contrary to popular belief. Gwaine is convinced Merlin ‘softened him up.’ But this isn’t true. Arthur has always been kind. The only thing that has changed is his ability to hide it.

Arthur smiled at Merlin then. Which is fine. Except for when Arthur is so close, and he smiles like that, like Merlin is the only person in the world…Merlin doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t understand why he can feel his own heartbeat, as though terrified. Which he’s not, because there is nothing scary about Arthur at all.

“Are you coming?” Arthur asked, and Merlin blinked to realize he’d already made it to the doorway. “To stand, I mean?” Merlin can’t find his tongue, can’t find a single logical reason why he’d spaced out, and so Arthur continues, “I think Gwen will be there.”

Merlin smiled, and forced his legs to cross the room to return to Arthur’s side.

“Of course I’m coming. How could you possibly handle yourself without me around?” Merlin’s tongue finally cooperated as he forced himself to form words.

At the feast, Arthur looks completely bored. Merlin wishes there was something he could do, some way to cheer him up. He’s in the middle of hoping to catch Arthur’s eye when Gwen elbows Merlin in the side.

“Hey!” Merlin whisper-yelled.

“Stop drooling. It’s indecent,” Gwen chastised, her tone sarcastic.

“I, I wasn’t!”

“You always are,” Gwen giggled.

“The only one drooling is you, whenever you’re near Morgana.” Merlin glared, trying not to smile. Ever since Gwen had confided in him her feelings for her Lady, he’s taken pleasure in badgering her about it. It’s nice, after all these years, not being the only one made fun of. The knights call Merlin and Arthur ‘the married ones’ when they think neither man is listening, but Merlin has overheard it. Once, Arthur had fallen under a love spell, and Merlin had rushed to Gaius for help, only to be accused of being the one Arthur had fallen for! It’s exhausting, repeating for years and years that nothing is going on.

It’s exhausting that nothing has been going on for years and years.

“Sh!” Gwen crossed her arms. “I should’ve never told you!”

Merlin smiled cheekily, until Gwen swatted him.

“Are you ever going to tell her? Or do I get to make fun of you forever?” He whispered.

“Probably the latter. She’s so busy, and so sad sometimes, and I don’t know if she would have any room for silly little me,” she answered, looking at the floor.

“I think she’d make room, Gwen,” Merlin said earnestly. “I only ever see her smile when you’re around.”

“I wish more things would make her smile,” Gwen replied, somewhat dreamily. “She has the most lovely smile.” Merlin rolled his eyes, and hated himself for glancing at Arthur. Morgana having the best smile? Debatable.

Either way, Arthur had yet to be allowed to say a word. He looked up just in time, and Merlin fought the urge to look away. Arthur rolled his eyes and made a face, and Merlin smiled and scrunched his nose.

“Yeah, sure. Like I’m the only one of the two of us with a crush,” Gwen said, arms crossed again.

Merlin ignored that.

The topic at the table was certainly an interesting one, at least for Merlin. When Uther made a joke about ‘killing those druids’, Gwen gave a squeeze to Merlin’s arm.

Which is sweet, he supposes. It’s a nice gesture. But after all this time of living in Camelot, after all this time of hiding, of convincing Arthur that magic is evil in order to save his life, well. Maybe the druids should just hurry up and die, so he can stop worrying about them. So that he can stop worrying about how any day he could have to watch Arthur kill the people like him, kill the people who once believed in him. So that he can stop losing and mourning the druids, one camp at a time.

According to the table, that day would come very soon. Apparently, druid camps had been found on the border of the two Kingdoms, and people would have to be sent to wipe them out. Probably Arthur.

Which is fine.

Arthur is kind, except that Arthur hates magic. And if Arthur hates magic, what would he think of Merlin? Merlin, who can feel his magic pumping through him. Merlin, who was born with this swirling of sorcery under his skin where his blood should be. Merlin doesn’t think Arthur would hurt him; Arthur is kind. But Merlin could never ask him to make that choice.

Everything is fine, really.

Merlin waits until they’ve returned to Arthur’s room to ask about the feast he’d just suffered through.

“You didn’t say much at the table today?”

“Didn’t have much of a chance, did I?” Arthur answered gruffly. Merlin lets a beat pass, letting Arthur catch his breath. Usually when he’s this angry, he really just needs a few moments. When Arthur sat down at his desk, Merlin sat nearby, taking to polishing Arthur’s sword.

“I would’ve liked to hear your opinion on what they were discussing?”

“About the druids?” Arthur asked. Merlin already sort of regretted asking, bracing himself to wince.

“I think both troops would be a ridiculous amount to send to investigate a report in the first place. The decision they came to was the right one. Camelot’s knights are more than enough.”

Merlin looked back down to the sword, pretending to polish as he nodded quietly. He had hoped, at least, that Camelot's knights wouldn’t be the ones sent, because he already knew who would be leading them.

“Can I tell you a secret, Merlin?” Arthur continued. His quiet, serious voice made Merlin look up. “You can’t tell anyone.” Merlin didn’t bother saying anything. He’s good at keeping secrets. “We shouldn’t need to have forces in the druid camps anyway.”

Merlin can’t breathe. He can only wait, wait, wait for Arthur to finish.

“I know, I know, magic corrupts. But…” Arthur trailed off for a moment, looking at the ground. Merlin can feel his magic in his fingers, trembling with hope. “The druids are peaceful people.”

Merlin tries desperately to regain the ability to breathe. Has it finally come? Would Arthur still let him stay, if he knew the truth?

“Do you.” Merlin could feel tears making their way to his eyes. “Do you really think so?” He hated how quiet and broken his voice sounded. Surely, Arthur would know the truth by his reaction alone!

Of course, Arthur had never been perceptive when it came to Merlin’s magic.

“Oh, whatever.” Arthur seemed to backtrack. Wait, no— “You say treasonous things all the time! And it’s not like I can do anything about it, anyway.” Arthur’s voice is angrier than it had been, as though he’s upset by his own thoughts. “No need to hate me for it, clotpole.” Arthur stands.

“No, no, I’m just surprised.” Merlin swallows, his face too red, his voice too raspy. “I thought you hated magic.”

“I do.” Arthur spat. There it is. Just as usual, all that bottled up hope, squashed back down, deep into Merlin’s chest, waiting for another chance to pretend. “Finish that sword and make sure my armor is polished. Clean out the stables, too, before we head out for patrol. Don’t forget to pack the horses. And I expect this room to be spotless!” Arthur all but yelled, before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Merlin sat on the floor longer than he should, considering all the chores he’d just been assigned.

Merlin wants to cry. He doesn’t cry, though, and he doesn’t pretend to be surprised. He doesn’t wonder why he wants to cry. He knows why.

Because even after all these years, even after all this time, he’s still waiting for Arthur to tell him that it’s alright. Merlin is still waiting for Arthur to accept his magic. He’s been waiting for it since the day they met, and he’ll be waiting until the day Arthur dies.

Merlin hates himself for that. Almost as much as he hates his magic.

Chapter Text

Merlin does not dream. His magic has always been there, sleeping beside him, attempting to keep him warm. Merlin doesn’t want it. He wishes he could sleep alone.

His dreams are gray. There is nothing. He isn’t sure if this is supposed to be haunting, or relaxing, or something else entirely. All he knows is the purr of sorcery, buzzing under his skin until he falls asleep, and buzzing louder each morning when he wakes.

Merlin wants to dread the ride to the druid camps, but with Arthur skulking around like a kicked puppy, Merlin can’t bring himself to do it.

“How are you feeling today?” Merlin asked, when the day had finally arrived. Today, Merlin must ride out with the knights, and watch them burn druid camps. Who knows how many they’ll find. He is asking Arthur how he feels because he cares about the answer, of course, but also because Merlin really wants someone–anyone–to ask how he’s doing with all of it.

“I’ll be fine. Stop worrying. You sound like a girl, Merlin.” Arthur’s words have a bite to them, and he doesn’t return the question to Merlin. Because why would he? By anyone’s standards, Merlin should be completely fine with the events of today. He let out an inaudible sigh.

“Oh, someone has to worry about you. Might as well be me.”

Arthur’s expression changed for a moment, but then his stone-like exterior returned. Merlin wished it wouldn’t.

“Well, you’ll be glad to hear you won’t have to ride out with us. My father said there were more than enough servants for the journey, and my own personal manservant wasn’t necessary.” Arthur said. His tongue no longer held any bite, and the words almost came off as sad.

“What?” Merlin has to go. He has to! Who will protect Arthur, if he is not there?

Arthur is capable of taking care of himself, of course. But sometimes the bandits are too quick, or the sorcery unexpected, and Merlin steps in just in time. Arthur doesn’t know it, but he’s come to rely on Merlin’s magic, slower to turn around, as if knowing something would be there to protect him. Merlin has noticed. What if he doesn’t come, and something happens?

“Sorry. I wish you could come.” Arthur said in consolation. Merlin felt his cheeks warm. This always happens when Arthur compliments him, or says something sweet. Merlin doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Are you sure I can’t come?” Merlin asked, embarrassed to sound almost like he was begging. He tried to cover it, “Someone has to look after your royal backside. Can’t very well do that from here.” This made Arthur smile a tiny bit. This is one of Merlin’s favorite looks from Arthur, when he’s so soft and still contemplating.

Not that he has a favorite look.

That would be insane.

“I’ll be fine, Merlin. I’m not sure how well you’ll do without me, on the other hand.” Arthur teased.

Whenever Arthur said something like this, Merlin never quite knew what to say. It was almost laughable.

He’s the strongest person in every room, but he’s made himself into a fool.

Merlin knows from Arthur’s voice and smirk that he’s only teasing, of course. But sometimes Merlin wishes he could grab Arthur by the shoulders and shake him; Can’t you see?

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Merlin said eventually, without really meaning to. Merlin tries to clear his thoughts. “I’d better go get your horse ready then.”

Merlin left the room in a rush. As soon as the door closed behind him, a new idea popped into his head.

He doesn’t have to go!

He actually doesn’t have to go! He doesn’t have to watch his friends, his protectors, be killed. How lucky is this? He always has to ride alone, and now, just this once, he won’t have to.

Merlin passes Gwen on the way to the stables. As soon as she spots him, her face morphs to something sympathetic.

“How are you doing?” She asked, already knowing the events the day will bring.

“Actually good! Really good. I mean, the druids will still die. And Arthur will still be the one killing them. So that’s not great. But Uther said I don’t have to go! Gwen, I won’t have to go!” Merlin is talking fast, faster than usual, his brain running laps to catch up with the turn of today.

“What?” Gwen’s face is full of concern.

“What?” Merlin asked defensively.

“Merlin, isn’t it your sworn duty to protect him? I know it must be tiring, but Arthur needs you.”

“But Uther said I didn’t have to go!” Merlin crossed his arms. Gwen has a knack for looking sensible and disappointed at the same time. Merlin thinks she’ll make a great mother some day. For now, though, he is only annoyed.

“But Arthur—” She starts.

“I know I need to look after him, but c’mon. You know how hard it would be for me.” Merlin pleaded. He saves Arthur each day so that the druids have to die? How is that just? How is that fair? And why does he always have to be the one explaining and defending his decisions?

“He’s meant to be gone for more than a fortnight, Merlin.” Gwen said, softer now. She puts her hand on Merlin’s arm. “Won’t you only worry the entire time he’s gone?”

Merlin sighs.

Yes. Obviously, yes. Merlin worries about Arthur when he’s in a different room, let alone when they are separated by an entire forest!

But thinking about going with him, about witnessing all those deaths…Merlin thinks that has to be worse.

“I’m not going.” Merlin decided, once and for all. Yes, this is what he must do. Just this once. “I can’t,” He explained, “I’ve been dreading it all week, and now? It’s like I’ve been let out of a bad deal. It’s the most I could’ve hoped for!”

Any argument Gwen had seemed to leave her, and she nodded, pulling Merlin in for a hug.

“I know it’d be hard for you, Merlin. I just want to make sure you won’t regret letting him go without you.” She said after she pulled away, her soft voice matching her worried face. Merlin nodded, but looked down at his feet.

“I can’t go, Gwen.” He nearly whispered. “I just can’t.”

Gwen nods and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Does this mean you’re going to do half my chores while he’s gone?” She teased, “I feel like it’s only fair.”

“How?!”

“Oh, c’mon Merlin, help a girl out!”

Gwen and Merlin laugh as they walk down the hallway. At the corner they separate, because Gwen is still needed in the castle, and Merlin has to go prepare Arthur’s horse.

“Hello, there, good boy.” He said, as he reached the beautiful mane. Merlin loves this horse. It’s Arthur’s, and it really only behaves for Arthur. Which is understandable. Why accept anything but the best? Arthur’s horse has always been good for Merlin too, though, probably since he’s always sneaking it extra snacks. Technically, as a servant, he shouldn’t have his own horse, but the gray one beside this dark brown is never used by anyone but Merlin. He has a suspicion that Arthur forbade anyone from using it, but they’ve never spoken about it. He pets both of them in greeting. He takes extra care in brushing out Arthur’s horse’s mane, because he won’t be there to do it later.

Should Merlin be going?

Has he made the wrong choice?

“Oh, hey, Merlin!” Bruno, the usual stableboy, called to him.

“Morning, Bruno.” Merlin answered. “Busy day?”

“It’ll be less busy once a few of the horses are gone.” The boy chuckled.

“Fair enough!” Merlin laughed back. Bruno handed him a few apples.

“We all know how much he loves ‘em.” Bruno said, in reference to Arthur’s horse. Merlin nodded and thanked him.

Secretly, this majestic horse, its dark brown coat and black speckled spots, is called Chestnut. Arthur had told Merlin once, when they were up far too late, that he’d long since named the horse. But royal horses aren’t supposed to have names, especially in Camelot, because Uther hates fun, apparently.

Merlin thinks Uther refuses to let them name the horses for the same reason he hates Arthur going into town: Uther does not want Arthur to form connections. Not with anyone. The same way that everyone knows Uther’s name, yet he knows none. It is not a Kings’ responsibility to remember the name of a servant.

Even if the servant had been serving his son for years.

Merlin begins packing the bag on the horse, putting the supplies in one by one, checking and double checking that Arthur would have everything he’d need. Merlin fed Chestnut an apple, giving the other to his own horse, who is secretly called Meadow.

“Now, you’ve got to be very nice to Arthur, alright?” Merlin said to Chestnut, after Bruno had left. “He won’t have me around to look after him. But you’ll take good care of him, won’t you? Won’t you, good boy?”

The horse gave a whinny. Merlin figured that was about as much of a promise as he’d get, and continued stroking his mane. Maybe he should be going along with them, just in case…

“What, did you get lost on your way to Gaius?” A familiar voice called as he approached. Merlin turned to see a smiling Arthur, and realized he’d already been dismissed. He wasn’t supposed to be waiting here for no reason at all, since he’d already made Arthur’s pack.

“Just came to say goodbye, knobhead.” Merlin answered, after he’d come up with a good enough reason. And then, after a moment, “And to wish you luck.” Luck in his travels. Not in his kills.

Merlin looked down.

“I wish I were coming.” He said, knowing that that was as true as him not wanting to go at all.

“I’m sure we won’t need any luck, Merlin.” There’s a pause, and Merlin can feel his magic rippling through him, a push and pull like a current. “Rest while we’re away. And don’t forget to eat.” Arthur’s voice is soft, and Merlin’s magic is doing cartwheels. He can’t even nod. Arthur clears his throat. “You’re beginning to look more like a twig than a manservant.”

Merlin smiled, already missing him.

“Take care of yourself.” Merlin answered. Without thinking, he puts his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, far too close to his neck, his thumb nearly on Arthur’s jaw. As soon as Merlin had seen what he had done, he wanted to pull away, but then Arthur smiled, so confident and sure, and Merlin let it rest there for a moment.

Merlin’s magic kept thrumming beneath his skin, beating like a heart in the hand touching Arthur.

Can you not feel it?

Merlin gives a squeeze, without really meaning to, and pulls away. Unable to stop himself, though, he went ahead and brushed imaginary dust from Arthur’s shoulders.

He stepped back to let Arthur mount his horse. Leon gave him a huge wave and smile, which made Merlin smile back. Leon has always been kind to Merlin. Even after he found out about Merlin’s magic. Then again, Leon is kind to everyone.

Merlin stands at the gate, watching them ride away, for much longer than he means to. Watching Arthur ride off, all alone, without him. It’s better this way, Merlin tries to convince himself.

It’s strange, because it is only when Arthur is far away that Merlin realizes just how much he needs him. How he doesn’t know how to be, when he isn’t around. Not in the same way, at least. It’s not a want, like a favorite food. It’s a need, a necessity, a hunger that’s lasted years, that’s been eating at him for far too long.

Merlin swallows, and forces himself to turn away from a now empty horizon, Arthur and his knights long gone.

Merlin is always waiting for something. He is waiting, waiting, waiting. He doesn’t really know what for, anymore. He supposes it doesn’t really matter. His magic ties itself loosely around him, a noose hanging around his neck, waiting for Arthur to come home.

Chapter Text

Merlin enjoys his days the most when he spends it with Arthur. He wishes, at the very least, that when Arthur leaves, he would get some time off.

Thanks to Gaius, this is never the case.

“Hello, Gaius!” Merlin called as he returned to their small home after finishing helping Gwen with a few of her chores that morning. She’d been entirely joking before, but it’s always nice to talk with her, so Merlin didn’t mind helping her out.

“Oh, hello, Merlin. I take it Arthur has left then?” Gaius asked as he rounded the corner, raising an eyebrow. Merlin nodded.

“Yesterday. Had to finish my chores.” Gaius’ eyebrow arched higher.

“You are certainly keeping yourself busy.” Merlin rolled his eyes at this.

“No, I just have duties, even after he’s gone.”

“Hm. And you’re sure it’s for no other reason?” Gaius pushed. Merlin crossed his arms.

“No other reason, Gaius.” He huffed. Gaius nodded slowly at this and seemed to relent, instead listing endlessly each ingredient and herb he’s out of, supplies he needs from town, and which areas of the house Merlin needs to clean today. Merlin waited until he was outside to grumble to himself.

Merlin decides to start by going into the woods, hoping to find and gather all the ingredients before it gets too dim. The sun is still high, so this shouldn’t be a problem.

Even so, Merlin certainly takes his time, enjoying finding different colored pansies among the brushes. He gathers each herb and plant with care, setting them softly in his small burlap sack.

As he wanders near a stream in search of ginger root, Merlin decides to take off his shoes and enjoy the walk in the shallow water. It’s become quite a hot day in Camelot, the sunshine uninterrupted by clouds. Merlin jumps and hops, laughing as he kicks up splashes. Suddenly a frog leaps out of his way.

“Ah!” He called, nearly stumbling in his surprise. Once he recovers, he leans down closer to see the creature. “Why, hello there. Aren’t you a cutie?”

The frog only stares in return.

Merlin sighs, sitting in the grass beside the frog, who doesn’t seem to mind.

“Ya know, I know a certain someone who would totally freak out, seeing you. I could put you in a little bag, and give it to him, ha! I’d die laughing.” Merlin said aloud, a smile on his face at the thought. Then his smile slipped. “He’s gone, though. Just for a little while. But, still.”

Merlin turns to the frog.

“So I guess you can stay, and enjoy your stream.” He decides, then lays on his back, feet still in the water. “This isn’t a bad place you’ve got here, Troy. Can I call you Troy?”

The frog remains silent, which is starting to worry Merlin.

“You know, I used to have a really pretty place, like this, but…” Merlin trails off. He hasn’t been to his meadow in a long time. He hasn’t earned it.

Shouldn’t frogs croak more than this?

Merlin sits up again, taking a longer look at the frog.

“You don’t say much, do you, Troy?” Merlin said. The frog finally croaked, right on time. “Fair enough. Good point.” Merlin sighed, pushing himself back up to his feet. “Thanks for being such good company. I’ll tell Arthur you said hello.”

Merlin turned away from the frog to return to his path, then thought for a moment. It might be a nice thing to do, and it’s such a simple spell….

As soon as Merlin has the idea, he can feel his magic sizzling and crackling in excitement. This is why he hates doing it. It’s like his magic is always pushing him, always wanting more. This is why Merlin decides to do as he always does, and wait.

He stands there in the river, waiting for the wind to give him direction, waiting for his magic to push him hard enough that he’ll do the spell.

And it is a simple, harmless spell. But what if it’s the gateway? What if this is the thing that breaks the dam on his self-control?

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

Then Merlin turns back to the frog.

“Gairm leòmainn." Merlin casted the spell with a closed fist, opening it to reveal a few moths flying out. The frog jumped once in excitement, his tongue shooting out to catch them.

Merlin swallowed and turned away. His magic, now content, returned to a soft buzz.

But it’s always there.

When Merlin returns to the edge of the wood, bag full, the sun is on its way down. He decides to stop in town quickly, hoping to be home before the sun sets fully.

He always enjoys seeing the people in town, enjoys the smell of the baker’s small shop, enjoys the quiet chatter of passersby. But Merlin prefers to visit town when he’s with Arthur. Who wouldn’t? The way the townspeople light up when their Prince remembers their names, or pays them more gold than he should? The way he is always trying to get gifts for the people he cares about, trying to find something wonderful and meaningful for each person? The way he laughs a little louder here, breathes a little easier, the way his eyes shine a little brighter…

Not that Merlin has noticed. Obviously.

Merlin wanders tstreet, finding the tools to replace Gaius’ worn ones.

“Merlin!” Benny called out as Merlin walked up to him. His real name is Benjamin, but no-one calls him that. He’s far too joyous, far too kiddy, to have a name so serious. He’s an older gentleman, hair beginning to disappear, but it’s barely noticeable in comparison to his beaming smile and round cheeks.

“Benny!” Merlin returned his friend’s smile.

“Where’s his Majesty this afternoon?” He asked casually. Merlin froze for a moment, not knowing if Uther wanted the townspeople knowing the Prince was away.

“Off chasing his own tail!” Merlin lied with a laugh. Benny joined in. If Merlin is the one making the joke, the townspeople have learned it’s not treason to laugh. Unless Uther finds out. In which case they’d all be dead. Including Arthur, probably.

“What can I get for you today, my friend?”

“Got any more rags or sponges for Gaius? He said they’re getting a little worn.” Benny nodded, turning to his crates to find them. In a blink, Benny returned to Merlin, hand full of cloths.

“Look alright?” He asked.

“How much?”

“For you? Half off.” Benny said with a smile. Benny always does this. Once, Gaius had gone to get some, and came back confused when he paid twice what Merlin does. Merlin doesn’t know why Benny lets him off easy each time, but he’s not one to complain.

“This is why you’re my favorite, Benny.” Merlin teased. Benny did his big laugh, the kind where he throws his head back and puts a hand on his stomach. Merlin left the coins for him and put the rags in the bag. He laughed when Benny ruffled his hair and told him to stay out of trouble.

Merlin goes from shop to shop, collecting the supplies. He is about to head home when he spots one of his dearest friends.

“Gwaine!” He yelled out in excitement.

“Merlin!” Gwaine yelled in return, waiting for Merlin to catch up to him, and then giving Merlin a quick hug.

“Where are you headed to?” Merlin asked, even though he already knows the answer.

“The tavern, my friend! Care to join me?”

“Oh, I dunno…”Merlin trailed off, trying to decide.

“Oh, c’mon! What’s the harm?” Gwaine seemed to sense his continued pause. “I think Percy will join us later. Please?” Merlin relents with a laugh, and lets Gwaine drag him to the tavern.

“I need to get a bottle of wine for Gaius, anyway. Running low on the disinfectant.” Gwaine nodded in a way that makes Merlin think he hadn’t been listening.

“Two, please!” He yelled out, dropping the coins on the counter. The bartender serves them, and the men take their drinks to the table. Merlin sets the bag at his feet. “Got any presents for me in there?” Gwaine asked. Merlin shook his head.

“Not unless you like a bunch of weeds.” He shrugged, and Gwaine sighed dramatically.

“You know,” Gwaine said, lowering his voice, “It’s strange to see you in town when the princess isn’t.” Merlin doesn’t really know how to respond to this.

“Guess so.” He answered.

“You two in a fight or somethin’?”

“What? No!”

“Sorry, sorry. Just guessing, anyways.” Gwaine said, hands raised in surrender. Merlin laughs a bit, then drinks a little too much of his mead.

“He’s off to kill ‘em.” Merlin said. “Didn’t want to see it.” Gwaine’s eyes softened and he nodded.

Gwaine figured out Merlin had magic all on his own, ages ago. He barely blinked, and never said a bad word to Merlin about it. He’s just nice that way. Years ago, when Merlin used to do magic more often, he’d ask for funny party tricks. Lately, Gwaine probably knows the answer will be, ‘not tonight.’

“You know what’s real strange? You never come to watch training if Arthur’s not in it.” Gwaine whispered conspiratorially, taking a gulp of his drink.

Merlin hates himself for blushing.

“Well, I’m not required to, so.”

“Oh, and you go because you’re required to?”

“Yes!”

Gwaine looks unconvinced.

“What?” Merlin asked defensively.

“Nothin’, nothin’. Just losing a bet, is all.” Gwaine shrugged.

“What bet?” Merlin asked. Gwaine seemed to pause for a moment too long, before:

“Betcha can’t do THIS!” And then Gwaine proceeded to stand, climb onto their table, chug the rest of his drink in a half-second, and slam it back onto the table. Merlin laughed.

“Oi! What have I told you about climbing onto my tables?” Gretchen, the barkeeper snapped, walking up to them. Gwaine sits back in his seat in record time.

“...Not to.”

“That’s right! Don’t make me tell you again!” She half-yelled. Merlin’s pretty sure Gwaine is one of her best customers, so he can never tell if her threats are serious. “Oh, Merlin! Hello, dear. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good, yeah.” Merlin answered, a little surprised and squirmy from the direct attention. “And how are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, honey. I am just fine. Tell you what, let’s get you another round, on the house.” Gwaine let out a whoop. “You,” She looked to Gwaine with her hands on her hips, “Pay full charge.” Gwaine let out a much sadder whoop, which made Merlin laugh.

“Thank you, Gretchen, but you really don’t have to—”

“Nicholas!” She interrupted, yelling behind her, “Get our Merlin another drink!”

“Thanks, Gretch.” Merlin said with a grin and a blush.

“Oh, anything for you, dear.” She said, then turned to start yelling at a different rowdy patron.

Merlin doesn’t often come to the tavern, but over the years, Gretchen and Nicholas have always been sweet to him. Everyone loves Gretchen, though. She seems tough, but everyone knows she’s just a big sweetheart.

Gwaine sighs dramatically again.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“I forgot how hard it is being around you. You’re everyone’s favorite!” Gwaine complained, even though he was smiling. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Maybe she just likes me more because I don’t stand on her tables.” Merlin pointed out, which only made Gwaine laugh.

By the time Percy finally came round, Merlin had already finished his second drink. Since he rarely comes to the tavern, despite what Arthur thinks, he can’t handle much more. So he grabs his bag, patting Gwaine’s shoulder, and gives a hug to Percy on his way out. Percy is renowned for the best hugs. He’s like a giant stuffed bear.

Merlin wanders his way back home, a little bit tipsy. The streets are empty now that the sun has set. Merlin looks up to the sky.

“Hope you’re having a nice day, prat.” Merlin whispers.

Chapter Text

Merlin doesn’t know why he’s so anxious this morning.

Well, alright, Arthur is set to arrive home in a few hours.

But that’s beside the point.

Merlin wakes earlier than he’d like, finding himself altogether too idle. He thoroughly cleans and re-cleans Arthur’s chambers, finding that after both, barely half an hour has passed. So, Merlin makes his way to the armory, polishing Arthur’s second sword and daggers until he can see his reflection in them.

It’s really only been a few days since Arthur left. So Merlin doesn’t know what to think when he finds himself nervously wiping his clammy hands on his pants, or tugging at his neckerchief because it is altogether too tight.

Finally it’s breakfast time for the royals. Even though Merlin doesn’t technically have anyone to serve today, he heads to the kitchens to find his friend.

“Gwen!” He called out. Finally, someone to keep him busy!

“Good morning, Merlin.” She responds with a smile, then looks him up and down and raises an eyebrow. “Been busy, have you?”

“I’m just bored.” He grumbled, embarrassed. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Come with me to deliver my tray?” She asked. Merlin quietly thanked the Gods for Gwen’s kindness. Or perhaps her pity. Either is fine by Merlin, as long as he can find something to do to pass the time.

“So, you’ll never believe what Morgana said to me last night.” Gwen gossiped, smacking Merlin’s hand when he tried to steal the biscuit from the tray.

“What’d she say?”

“Goodnight, love. LOVE. Can you believe that? What do you think she meant by that?” Gwen screeched. Merlin swallowed his laugh.

“Probably she just loves you.” He answered, to which Gwen sighed dreamily.

“Do you think?”

“What did you say back?” Merlin asked, taking the tray from Gwen’s hands as they walked. He just needs to keep his hands busy, otherwise they are fidgeting at his side for no reason.

“Ugh, it’s so embarrassing!” She answered, covering her face with her hands.

“It can’t be that bad.” Merlin tried to console.

“I screeched and left the room.”

“What?!”

“I did a little ‘eek!’ and left without another word.” Gwen said, hands still covering her face. Merlin cackled, even after Gwen swatted his arm. “It’s not my fault! She can’t just say things like that with no warning!”

“So you haven’t spoken since last night, huh?” Merlin clarified.

“Why do you think I’m making you come with me?” Gwen answered with a grin.

“Wow!” Merlin responded, making Gwen laugh. “And here I thought it was because you wanted to chat.”

“Alright, maybe that too.” She giggled. As the pair turned the corner, they quieted down, knowing Morgana’s quarters lie at the end of the hall.

“Are you gonna say anything about it?” Merlin whispered, earning a glare from Gwen.

“No! I don’t know! Gah!” She stammered as they arrived outside the door. Merlin watched as Gwen wiped her hands on her dress, much like he’d been doing all morning.

For different reasons, of course.

Gwen opened the door and Merlin marched in.

“Good morning, my Lady.” Gwen said a little too loudly. Which sounded very strange, because she hasn’t called Morgana ‘my lady’ in years. “Merlin’s here too.”

“Hello!” Merlin called out with a smile.

“Good morning Merlin.” Morgana said warmly. “Guinevere.” That was a little less warm, but had a teasing note to it.

Merlin dropped the tray at Morgana’s desk, quickly deciding that going back to being bored was better than this awkward silence.

“Well, alright, goodbye.” He said. “Thanks for letting me help, Gwen. I’ve been going mad.” Gwen smiled softly at this, and Morgana seemed to look a little relieved.

Alone in the hallway once again, Merlin sort of just finds himself wandering around.

At some point he ends up at Arthur’s quarters.

Which doesn’t matter, because Arthur isn’t home yet.

Merlin forces himself away from the room, picking corners to turn into at random. This is how he comes to find Arthur, home early after all, leaning against the wall.

For a moment, Merlin feels a rush of excitement and relief at seeing him. Then he takes a few steps closer.

“Arthur?” He called out. Arthur looks terrible. He has dark bags under his eyes, and he is so pale, and his lips seem to match the rest of his face, not that Merlin is looking at his lips, and Arthur is quite literally held up by his arm against the wall. “Arthur? Are you alright?” Merlin reaches Arthur just in time, and steadies him by his waist as Arthur begins to collapse.

“I’m fine, I’m just…” Arthur trails off, but his eyes finally focus on Merlin, and he puts a hand oto Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m just fine.” Merlin knows Arthur is absolutely not fine, because his words are less like an answer and more like a shaped breath, and other than that, his breathing in general is rigid and far too fast. Merlin brings a hand to Arthur’s forehead. He doesn’t seem to have a temperature.

“You are far too pale,” He diagnoses, “Have you eaten? Are you poisoned?” Arthur seems to try to shake his head, but it sort of just wobbles back and forth as his eyes shut tightly. Above anything else, Arthur looks overwhelmed. Merlin decides to deal with that first, and tries to speak slower. “Hey, how about we get you laid down, yeah?” He asked, backing off to give Arthur as much space as he could without letting the man fall down.

Merlin should have gone along. Why hadn’t he gone? How could he let this happen?

Merlin half-carries Arthur back to his chamber, Arthur leaning most of his weight onto him, probably without meaning to. Once there, Merlin makes quick work of removing Arthur’s chainmail and heavy boots. He leads a now whimpering and shaking and sweating Arthur to bed, tucking him in and sitting beside him.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Merlin finds himself saying, realizing too late that his hand is petting Arthur’s hair. Arthur seems to relax from it, though, so Merlin leaves it. “Sh, sh, it’s okay, it’s alright.” He tries to slow his voice down, to sound less scared than he is. Please be alright, he prays. “You’re okay Arthur, you’re okay.” Arthur’s eyes flutter closed, but his breathing sounds more steady, so Merlin allows it.

“I have to report to my father.” Arthur mumbles, eyebrows furrowing despite his closed eyes.

“I’ll go tell Leon to do it.” Merlin decided. “I’ll have him tell Uther you were on watch last night. You just need some sleep, that’s all.” Merlin pet Arthur’s hair until his face relaxed again. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Get some rest.”

Merlin knows he has to find Leon, but Arthur’s life is far more important.

”Org draoidheachd.”

The spell is a simple one, to reveal any magic or potion or poison residue. It reveals none. Is Arthur really only tired?

“Alright. Alright. I’ll let you sleep.” Merlin whispers, then: “Love.” He leaves the room as quietly as he can.

He races to find Leon, knowing he is working against the clock. The longer Uther waits for a report, the angrier with Arthur he’ll be. He found Gaius first, checking over the knights for any injuries, as he is supposed to.

“Gaius! Arthur’s room. Be discreet, and don’t wake him unless you have to.” He said quietly. Gaius raised an eyebrow, but nodded and left quickly. This did nothing to settle the nerves in Merlin’s stomach, but he ignored it. Finally, he found Leon. The scene was a little disturbing, because usually Leon is the loudest in the room. Today, he sits alone in a corner, staring daggers at a group of knights.

“Leon?” Merlin called, hesitant. But as soon as Leon saw Merlin, his glare dissipated, a small smile replacing it.

“Merlin!” He greeted, a little softer than usual. Merlin waved him over, and Leon got up, following him to a far more quiet room.

“Arthur looked really unwell when I found him—” Merlin began.

“Found him?”

“Gaius is with him now, I think he’s just tired. Did you all not sleep?”

“No, I mean, we…we tried.” Leon answered evasively. Merlin glared at him, but knew he didn’t have time to interrogate.

“He didn’t have time to report to Uther. You’ll need to deliver it. Tell Uther that Arthur took a shift last night—”

“He never wants Arthur to take a shift!”

“Oh? And is it better to say, ‘your son collapsed in the hallway?’” Merlin asked sarcastically. Leon went silent after that. “Just tell him Arthur demanded he have a shift, and then he was too tired upon arrival home. Alright?”

Leon nodded.

“Alright. Keep me updated on Arthur’s condition, will you?” Leon asked. Merlin promised he would.

Merlin returned to Arthur’s quarters just in time to catch Gaius on his way out.

“So?” He asked, his heart still pounding in his chest, magic thumping against it, loud enough he could hear the echo in his ears.

“You were right. He’s exhausted. I’d say a moderate case of sleep deprivation. A few more days of it, and he’d have stopped functioning altogether.” Gaius informed. Merlin nodded.

“So we’ll let him sleep, and he’ll be okay?”

“He should be just fine. Try not to worry, Merlin.” Gaius pat Merlin’s shoulder and left. Merlin couldn’t bring himself to leave Arthur, and decided to take a small nap on his chair, waiting for him to wake.

Except Arthur didn’t. The sun began to set, and Merlin decided he might as well go and get Arthur’s dinner on a tray, in case he wakes up hungry.

“Merlin!” Gwen chastised. “Where have you and Arthur been all day?” Merlin furrowed his eyebrows. He’d expected the news to travel from Leon to Morgana to Gwen.

“Leon didn’t say anything?” He asked. Gwen looked confused, shaking her head. “Arthur returned exhausted. Put him to bed right away, and he still hasn’t woken.” He explained. Even describing it made his stomach tangle with his magic uncomfortably.

“Oh! That’s awful. Is he alright?” She asked softly. Merlin shrugged, trying to appear calmer, when really, he hadn’t been able to catch his breath all day.

“Gaius says he just needs sleep.” He answered, and grabbed the tray. “I’d better get back.” Gwen nodded, still looking concerned. He didn’t know how to console her, though, so he turned away, and returned to Arthur.

Arthur is still soundly asleep when he returns with the tray.

But Merlin can’t leave.

So he restarts the fire, without sorcery. Scrubs the floor. Replaces the candles that are getting low. Cleans the windows, even though he’d already done that today. Twice.

Waiting, waiting, waiting for Arthur to wake.

It’s right when Merlin is beginning to get sleepy that Arthur seems to stir. Or, for a moment, Merlin thinks he is.

“Am sorry.” Arthur whispered, so quiet Merlin almost didn’t hear it. “Sorry…..please. Please, sorry.” Arthur mumbled, which sounded more like pleading than Merlin had heard from him, probably ever. Arthur continued mumbling apologies, and Merlin went toward the bed. Should he wake him?

Arthur seemed to settle, and Merlin sat himself gently on the side of the bed.

Then Arthur surged awake, sitting up in the same moment, breathing heavily, staring ahead, unblinking.

“Arthur?” Arthur slowly turned his attention to Merlin, seeming to realize for the first time that Merlin was there at all. His eyes are too wide, but at least his lips have returned to a normal color.

“I’m…” Arthur seems to shake himself. "I’m fine, I’m fine.” He coughed and looked out the window. “What time is it?”

“This is usually the time I’d be putting you to bed, Sire.” Merlin doesn’t know why he said that so formerly. He is suddenly reminded of Morgana and Gwen, although that conversation feels like a lifetime ago. Had it really been only this morning? “I was just finishing my nightly chores and…” Merlin trailed off when he realized Arthur didn’t seem to care why he was there.

“I’m fine. It was just a dream.” Arthur sounded a little too afraid and shaky for this to be true, but Merlin nodded to placate him. Arthur must not believe his nod, though, because he continues defending himself. “No need to worry, Merlin. Everyone gets them sometimes. Even princes.” Arthur looked to be attempting a smile, but it mostly only worried Merlin. Arthur took in a huge heave of breath. “Do you know if my father is awake?” He questioned, talking fast and frantically. “I’m sure Leon’s report was satisfactory, but I’d like to give my own.”

Merlin tries not to let his deep hatred for Uther show on his face. If Arthur had a better father, he wouldn’t be so concerned with leaving his bed, after collapsing, just to give the same report that someone else already gave. Arthur deserves rest. And love. And a father that cares for his well-being.

“The whole castle is asleep, I think.” This is a lie. Uther is surely still awake. But Merlin does not care. “I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.” To prove his point, Merlin put a gentle hand on Arthur’s chest, pushing him softly down until he’s laid back again.

Except then his hand didn’t want to leave. He wanted to offer Arthur some sort of comfort, in case his bad dream returns. Merlin settles on petting his hair, like this morning. Once again, Arthur visibly relaxes just moments later, and Merlin decides that it’s more than fine with him.

“I was reading,” This is another lie. But he doesn’t want Arthur to feel worried that Gaius knows something he shouldn’t. “And I think you might’ve been sleep deprived earlier. I’m surprised you woke up at all today.”

“Sorry.” Arthur mumbles, making Merlin frown. What in his dream made him feel so apologetic?

“What for?” Merlin pressed. Arthur hummed for a moment.

“Oh, I dunno….done something, am sure.” His eyes are fully closed, and his words come out in a bit of a jumble, but Merlin decodes it easily enough.

“No, no, you’re just fine.” Merlin tries to reassure him, suddenly desperate that Arthur knows he is always forgiven. “Just a prat. But that’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Merlin keeps softly brushing at Arthur’s hair, blond strands between his pale fingertips, for a little too long.

“You just rest, alright? You just get some rest.”

Merlin’s magic hisses as Merlin swallows the word ‘beautiful’ because really, who is that pretty asleep? Merlin thinks it’s ridiculous.

It’s only when Merlin begins nodding off that he forces himself to leave Arthur’s side. He makes the walk back to his own much smaller room, and falls asleep with Arthur’s apologies lying heavily on his mind.

Chapter Text

Merlin wakes from a troubled, gray sleep, eyes open before he even realizes it’s already morning. He half-stumbles out of bed, changing slower than he should, then makes his way to the small table.

“Morning, Gaius.” Merlin said sleepily.

“You were certainly out late last night.” Gaius responded, raising an eyebrow. Merlin yawned.

“Had to make sure Arthur was alright.” Merlin shrugged. Maybe he didn’t have to be by Arthur’s side over a bit of exhaustion, but Merlin was too tired to mind.

He ate quickly, maybe quicker than he should, especially with Gaius sitting opposite him, raising his eyebrow in silent judgment. But Merlin didn’t care. How could he have stayed home, while Arthur was away, not sleeping?

He arrives at the kitchens earlier than he should, Gwen having not yet arrived. Merlin finds himself feeling so cranky and out of it that he almost wants to grab Arthur’s tray early and leave rather than wait for Gwen. But she has Arthur’s schedule, and she’ll want to know how he’s doing anyway.

Merlin doesn’t even know why he’s so upset. He can’t place the upset stomach, or nerves, or shaky hands. And the beating of the magic in his ears is only distracting.

Merlin leans against the wall, letting the back of his head tilt against the cold stone. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, trying to calm himself. What’s his problem? Seriously. Arthur came home a little sleepy and Merlin can’t seem to catch his breath; How does that work?

“Merlin? Are you alright?” Gwen spoke, making Merlin’s eyes abruptly open. He forces himself off the wall, straightening up.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine.” Merlin answered.

“Is Arthur alright?” Gwen asked, softer.

“He slept all day yesterday. Gaius says he’ll be fine.” Merlin answered carefully. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘yes’.

“Oh! Oh, good. I’ll let Morgana know.” Gwen answered, looking relieved. She told him Arthur’s schedule, and she must sense Merlin’s bad mood, because she doesn’t try joking with him. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Merlin nodded, feeling numb. Then he grabbed Arthur’s tray and went to his quarters.

When Merlin arrives, Arthur is still fast asleep. He doesn’t seem to be having a nightmare, like before, so Merlin decides not to wake him. Not yet, at least. The world can wait. Arthur deserves to rest.

Merlin places the Prince’s tray as quietly as he can, and opens the curtains just enough for the sun to peek through. His stomach finally feels settled now that he can see Arthur, safe and breathing, sleeping easily.

Merlin wants to stay in the room, but when he nearly trips over the chair, he decides he’d better let Arthur sleep in peace. Merlin leaves, but he remains in the hallway, sitting quietly, back against Arthur’s door.

He wants to do something to cheer Arthur up. He thinks it over, glad at least he’d left the bread on Arthur’s tray, just this once.

Oh! The tray!

He looks both ways in the hallway, hoping no-one is around to report him as he stupidly does magic out here in the open. Not that it matters, really. If it cheers Arthur up, it’s worth it.

Pluma airson mo ghràidh!

He had said the spell as quietly as he could, but surprised himself with the words he’d chosen for it. But it’s just a spell. It doesn’t mean anything.

A good sized plum appears in his hand, and his magic seems to sigh contentedly.

Plums are Arthur’s favorite. Not that he’s ever said, really. But in the spring, when the plums are ripe and arrive on his tray, he always comments on them, and eats them first. And he always gets this kiddish smile on his face when he sees one. Like a small piece of happiness has arrived on his tray each morning.

Merlin gets up and enters Arthur’s chambers once again, as quietly as he can. This is all for not when he looks over to see his friend already sitting up.

“Oh, you’re up!” He exclaimed, hiding the plum behind his back. Arthur looks around and furrows his eyebrows.

“Did you let me oversleep?” He asked.

“Only for a few minutes!” Merlin defended, feeling sheepish. He walked toward Arthur’s tray, dropping the plum on it as sneakily as he could. “We’ll skip the bath until after training. No big deal.” Merlin paused, then added, quieter: “You needed the sleep.”

Arthur seemed to accept this, and went to his desk for breakfast. Merlin watches him carefully, pretending to tidy, and can see the visible change in Arthur when he spots the plum. He seems to physically fight and swallow a smile, but he sits up straighter, and grabs the plum to hold.

“Is this a plum?” He asked, voice a little higher than usual.

“Looks like one.” Merlin said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“But…These are out of season!” Arthur exclaimed, a bewilderment in his voice. “Where did you get it?”

Whoops.

“I dunno. It was just in the kitchen.” Then, more sarcastically, “Why? Do you have a problem with plums?”

“No, no,” Arthur’s grin grew, which made Merlin’s stomach unravel with bubbles. “Plums are fine.”

Merlin tried to hide a content smile as he began to actually do his chores. He let Arthur eat in peace for a little while, but eventually informed him of his schedule for the day. He couldn’t help the scowl that crossed his face when he had to inform Arthur that his idiot father had asked for him. Arthur didn’t seem to have a reaction, however. He only nodded, finishing his breakfast in silence.

When Arthur allows himself to be dressed, Merlin notes immediately how shaky he is on his legs. Merlin wishes he could just put him back to sleep, just for a little while longer. But he knows Arthur would never allow it. Sleeping in is already crime enough. Merlin holds back an eye roll as he pretends to wonder who would have taught him that.

The best Merlin can do is change Arthur’s clothes slowly, and so he does, taking his time on the ties. When Merlin dusts Arthur’s shoulders he leaves his hand there, perhaps a moment too long, but how could he help it? Merlin puts Arthur’s drying blond hair into place, wanting to kiss his forehead.

The way one does, when a friend is sick.

Nonetheless, at that abrupt thought Merlin forces himself back. He watches, as if seeing through glass, as Arthur takes a deep breath and leaves to go see his father.

Merlin has never hated anyone, not really. Except for Uther.

King Uther is a coward. Blinded in his hate and his fear, awful towards Arthur, downright evil towards Morgana. Merlin sees the way she flinches when Uthur slams a fist on a table. And Gwen has told him, quietly, the way Morgana would be summoned from her room late at night when she was younger, the way she’d return hours later a little more broken and bloodied. Arthur doesn’t seem to know this. Merlin wishes he didn’t. He hates looking at Uther, having every reason to kill him, even having the power to do so, but unable to hurt him without also hurting Arthur.

No, Merlin can do nothing but watch as Uther berates and degrades his own son, somehow standing tall with the shadows of his sins on his back. Merlin is trapped in a state of silence with Uther.

It kills him.

To avoid this, Merlin rushes from chore to chore, hoping to keep his mind busy, wishing Uther would just hurry up and drop dead. Gwen runs into him in the laundry.

“Gwen!” He called out. She smiled.

“You seem to be feeling better.” She commented. Merlin crossed his arms, but didn’t have any defense. He is feeling better. Arthur seemed mostly alright, and he will be in training in a matter of minutes. “How's our Arthur?”

Merlin informed her of Arthur’s condition. He went a little more into detail that he should, but can’t seem to stop talking about him. “ —But he ate everything on his plate this morning!” By the end of his speech, Gwen seemed to be holding back a laugh. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She shook her head, and went back to her chores. Gwen gossiped about the servant Uther had fired and banished last night, for whatever reason he chose. Gwen claims it was because he had been so upset about Arthur not going to see him. Merlin rolls his eyes. “Hey,” She defends, “I’m not saying he cares about Arthur. I don’t think him capable of that. Only that he had a fit when he heard the Prince had gone to bed.”

Merlin shrugged in response. He could stop Uther’s heart from here, if he wanted to.

See? Even with that thought, his magic wraps itself around Merlin’s fingers, as if urging him to do it. It doesn’t matter who it is, does it? His magic wants to explode. Merlin worries, maybe even knows, that it wants to kill. Knows that he was meant to be something evil.

Which is why he really should stop using it.

If he could cut it out of him altogether, he would. Merlin used to enjoy magic, the easy help of it, the way it came so naturally. But now, as he grows older, it seems to dampen and darken. The longer Merlin has lived here in Camelot, the louder and more overbearing the ring of his magic became.

The truth is that Merlin has found himself in a field of flowers. Everyone around him is so beautiful, each different but perfect, naturally lovely and worthy. For a while, Merlin can fool himself. After all, he looks like a flower. He can act like a flower. But deep down, Merlin knows he is a weed.

It doesn’t matter how hard he pushes against it, or how much he lies to himself. There is no way to cut it out of him. The druids have already confirmed it all too often: Merlin is magic itself.

What a horrific thing to have to be.

“Merlin?”

“Sorry?” Merlin realized he’d been steel-gripping one of Arthur’s shirts, and blinked to realize he’d been staring at it, even though his eyes hadn’t been focused on anything at all. He looks to Gwen to see that she’s already standing in the doorway.

“I was just saying that I’m sure Arthur is on the field waiting for you…Are you alright?” Gwen looked concerned.

“Good, yeah. Nevermind. Let’s go.” Merlin said. He smiled as he joined her, that easy-lie sort of smile that comes to him all too often.

Gwen almost looked like she was going to push, so Merlin walked ahead of her, knowing that at the corner of the hallway they’d have to part ways. Merlin loves Gwen, which is why this is something he’ll never be able to explain.

“Goodbye, Gwen!” He called over his shoulder, heading for the training field.

“Well, alright, goodbye, Merlin.” She called back, soft and maybe a little disappointed.

Merlin keeps walking.

“Merlin! Where have you been?” Arthur exclaimed, when Merlin arrived to help him into his armor. Merlin shrugged. “Alright, well, I have training, and then I’ll need to meet with Sir Gwaine, Sir Percival, and Sir Leon quickly afterwards.”

“How have you been feeling?” Merlin answered.

“Just fine, Merlin. Stop worrying, you sound like a girl!”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but their conversation dropped off, and Merlin dusted his shoulders, and watched as Arthur went onto the field to train his knights. Merlin waved at Gwaine and tried not to look at Arthur more than anyone else would, because why would he? He’s just like everyone else. He can act like everyone else.

Except Arthur fights with the sort of vigor of when he’s battling an enemy. His swings are with more force, and he knocks down the opposing knight in minutes. Which is impressive, considering that particular knight is usually knocked down much sooner.

Merlin doesn’t actually know most of the knights, especially most of Uther’s. He’s always found it best to steer clear of anyone who would willingly choose to praise Camelot’s current King.

Arthur seems to go easier on some knights than others, but he’s fighting mad all the same. Merlin has only seen it a handful of times, but this is definitely one.

“You were trying much harder today.” Merlin commented after training was over, helping Arthur out of his armor.

“What?” Arthur asked, confused. Why had he noticed? It was a ridiculous thing to think and even more ridiculous to say.

“Seemed like they were actually trying to win.” Merlin mumbled, trying to backstep. “For once.” He added, as if trying to make his sentence sound more believable.

“Well, I gave them good incentive.” Arthur answered. Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Sir Frederick will replace you in cleaning the stables today.” Arthur said matter-of-factly. Merlin nearly dropped Arthur’s chestplate.

“What? You can’t…You can’t do that!” He thought for a moment. “Can you?”

“Sure I can. He deserves it.” Arthur nearly growled, and Merlin looked to him to see a nervous swallow. Merlin had a feeling he shouldn’t ask why.

“Well, I suppose that’ll teach them to stop going easy on you.” Merlin turned to the now full table of Arthur’s armor, looking down at it, and said, without really thinking: “Which I always think is silly. You’re the best swordsman of them all.”

Several seconds passed before it actually occurred to Merlin what he had said.

“Better than Gwaine?” Arthur teased. Merlin laughed, louder than he should’ve.

“Oh, good point. Second best swordsman.” Merlin backtracked, then tried to laugh some more.

It turned into a real laugh when he saw Arthur’s pretend disappointment.

“I’m off to polish these, unless you want me in that meeting?” Merlin asked, picking up Arthur’s armor.

“No!” Arthur yelled out. Merlin took a step back. “I mean. No. That’ll be fine.”

Merlin wonders if Arthur can see his magic. If he can feel it, even though they are standing so far apart now. Suddenly he’s very ready to be away from Arthur for a moment, where everything suddenly feels like some sort of test.

“Alright. I’ll see you at lunch!” Merlin raced out of the tent, wishing his magic could stay behind.

Wishing that somehow he could outrun it.

Chapter Text

Merlin is filling Arthur’s bath, having carried the buckets of water upstairs. He is calmer now, having taken a little too long in a dark corner heaving deep breaths and convincing himself that he is just like everybody else.

This is when Arthur enters, probably having finished his meeting with the knights, and he stops abruptly upon seeing Merlin.

“Oh.” He said, his brows furrowed.

“Just in time for your bath,” Merlin greeted with a smile. “Meeting went alright?”

“Oh.” Arthur said again. “Yes. Just fine.” His brows are still knit together, so Merlin doubts this. “We leave on the morrow.”

“Sorry?” Merlin asked. “Where are we going?”

“Not…Not you, Merlin. Sir Leon, Sir Percival, Sir Gwaine, and I are going to hunt and destroy the remaining camps on the border.” Arthur seems to stand up taller, and he seems older somehow, a little worn down.

This had not occurred to Merlin.

That they’d have to keep going out, and clearing out the camps.

Merlin tries to keep his face in check, even though he feels like he’s been punched in the gut, for a number of reasons.

“Oh.” Merlin answered. “Are you sure? I…I can come along.” Even as he offered, he felt the words dry up and shrivel on his tongue. He didn’t want to ever see a camp burned. But he couldn’t let Arthur go out alone again. No answer seemed right.

“No, that won’t be necessary, Merlin. It must remain a stealthy party, so as not to alert the druids before our arrival.”

Merlin felt his magic rush up to his head, hiding behind his eyelids, threatening to spill out, even though there was no proper reason for this. There’s no proper reason why Merlin suddenly feels like crying.

“I can’t believe I get more days off already!” Merlin tried to sound cheerful. Arthur climbed into his bath.

“Yes, well, you’d better not allow my chamber to gather dust.” How long would Arthur be gone, that his chamber would become dusty?

“Oh, it’ll be in perfect condition, you prat.” Merlin teased. He isn’t sure if it sounds as much like teasing as it should. He swallows his disappointment and fear and the hint of relief. It’s not easy to do, because Arthur won’t meet his eyes, and Merlin doesn’t know what to do with that.

“It better be.” Arthur snarked unconvincingly, then leaned his head back.

Merlin whisked about the room, feeling as undone as he had this morning.

“You alright, Sire?” Merlin asked when he looked over to Arthur, still sitting in the same position, eyes unblinking.

“Yes. Just fine.” Arthur answered. Except there is a tremble in his voice, and he doesn’t bother lifting his head, and he still hasn’t blinked.

Merlin turns toward him fully, looking him over. He’s not as pale, but Arthur is wearing that same expression he had been when Merlin had found him collapsing in the hallway.

“Alright.” Merlin said slowly, forcing himself to turn away and do absolutely anything else.

“Merlin?” Arthur called from the bath, voice small, body unmoved. “Would you…” He swallowed. “Would you hum? The way you do sometimes? I can’t,” Arthur’s voice seemed to get even quieter and more broken, “I can’t stand the quiet this morning.” Arthur shifted his head, slightly, to look at Merlin.

Merlin could do nothing but oblige his friend’s request, who is suddenly so sad and quiet. There are only a few steps between them, but Arthur feels years away.

Merlin hummed that familiar tune, the one that reminded him of his mother, the one that made him remember that younger boy, and his first day in Camelot.

Arthur seemed to take a deep breath.

It was lucky that Merlin naturally enchants Arthur’s bathwater each day, or else it would have gone long cold. Ages pass as Arthur just sits in the tub, staring at his ceiling. It only takes so long before Merlin breaks, and absolutely can’t help himself. He needs to cheer up his Arthur.

His friend.

His friend, Arthur.

So Merlin goes to stand behind Arthur, and takes a deep breath. He’ll have to get clean somehow, after all.

“C’mon, lean forward.” Merlin said. Arthur’s eyes landed on Merlin as he towered over. Arthur’s eyebrows furrow. Merlin wants desperately to smooth out his knit-together expression, and smiles at the thought. “C’mon, you haven’t all that much time.” Merlin sits behind Arthur as the Prince begins to scrub his head. It makes Merlin want to giggle, for some reason. “Oh, stop it, prat. I’ll do it.” Merlin said simply.

Arthur froze, and Merlin realized he had stopped humming. He started back up again as he wet his fingers in the water and scrubbed softly at Arthur’s head. Arthur finally seemed to relax, and he closed his eyes.

Merlin had never done this before. Because, is this something friends should do? He’d really only pour water on Gwaine, and that is only if he’s too drunk to wash up himself. But this? This feels almost…intimate.

So Merlin fights every inch of himself, the parts that are screaming to run, and he stays there as long as he can. His magic seems to rip away from him and sprint down the hallway, and it feels for a moment that Merlin can finally breathe. How is it that he already misses Arthur, and he hasn’t even left yet? He misses Arthur, and Arthur is here, closer to him than he’d ever been before.

Eventually Arthur is clean, and he has duties, and Merlin must pull away.

“That’s better.” He said softly, his voice more rough than he’d expected. “Come on then, time to get you dressed.”

Arthur nods and allows Merlin to help him stand, but doesn’t open his eyes fully until Merlin has finished drying him. Merlin is confused, now, because part of him wants to ask Arthur what’s wrong, and the other part is whispering wait, wait, wait.

Arthur doesn’t say anything as Merlin clothes him. Merlin doesn’t know how to ask. So he brushes imaginary dust from Arthur’s shoulders, hoping it conveys everything without conveying altogether too much.

Arthur leaves the room, still silent, a goodbye still waiting on Merlin’s lips. Merlin blinks as the door closes.

How did it all become this? When did it get like this? Here, in this awful place, where Merlin is only pretending to laugh when they bant, and Arthur looks more tired than he’d ever been. How can Merlin rid Arthur of phantom pain? How can he protect him from things that he won’t share? And how can Merlin tell him that he wants to help, without sounding overbearing and awful and a little too much like the boy he’d once been?

Somewhere along the lines, Merlin had gotten lost and disappeared. And here he is, still wondering which part of him came back.

Merlin stands there, in the empty room, wondering the last time he’d found himself to be happy. When was the last time Arthur had been happy? Simply happy? Not happy but still stressed, not smiling in distraction, but happy?

What even is it, to find that? What is it to be happy?

Merlin doesn’t remember. If he ever knew at all.

But Arthur should. Arthur should know only joy and laughter and love, because Arthur is made of those things. Arthur is flowers personified. He is the sun, when there are no clouds, and the birds are singing, and everyone breathes in the warmth like air. Then again, there is no daylight quite like Arthur. Merlin has been waiting for a day to come by that will change his mind, but Arthur need only smile, and Merlin is sure. Arthur has golden light shining from him.

Arthur should only have beautiful golden things happen to him, things that are worthy of him.

Merlin wonders, as he often does, if he and the magic whispering in his ear would make that cut.

Either way, thinking on it for too long knocks the wind out of Merlin, and his knees are wobbly, and hands clammy, and Merlin can’t come up with one single logical explanation for any of it.

Merlin finishes his chores quietly, his mother’s old tune stuck floating around his head.

When he’s finished, he should return home, to Gaius, to see if he needs anything.

He doesn’t.

Instead he walks. He doesn’t know why, or where exactly he’s going. He wanders around the castle, until he runs out of hallways. Then he finds himself outside, walking away from Gaius, and the kindness that might one day run out. He walks away from Gwen, and the smiles that he does not deserve. But mostly he walks away from the castle, and from Arthur, even though he feels so far away already.

Merlin is wandering with a purpose, with the hope of an escape that he’ll never commit. He finds himself in the forest, and yet even here he is too close to the man he wishes he were. To the man he pretends to be, inside the castle walls.

And so he walks further. He treads heavily, snapping branches and scaring animals, until his feet ache and the sky darkens. He should return to dress Arthur for bed, but he doesn’t. His feet lead him away, and he can only follow, numb and hollowed out.

He passes nothing, or maybe he’s just not paying enough attention. The night darkens deeper still, as if the stars are shielding themselves from him. Or, perhaps, his darkness is tainting the sky, and dimming its brightness.

Merlin tries not to compare this to Arthur. It doesn’t work very well, out here in the woods, where there is nothing to distract him. He takes bigger strides, walking faster as if this thought would stop chasing him, eating at him. He turns at random, not sure where he is going or why he is going at all.

When was the last time he did this? Merlin does not run away. Merlin stands his ground and smiles and nods and pretends everything is just fine. Merlin pretends that he is just fine.

And yet tonight, when his fears creep into his eyes, so that he can only see his own failures, there is nothing else to do but run. Tonight, when Arthur cannot sleep and will not tell him why. Tonight, when Arthur does not want him to ride along tomorrow because perhaps he can finally see the outline that surrounds Merlin at all times. Perhaps Arthur has finally realized that Merlin is dirtied by his magic, a sickness that he will never be rid of.

Merlin walks, and his legs ache, and he cannot stop.

Eventually he falls upon a meadow.

Well, not just any meadow.

This is a place he created, a very long time ago. Sometime between the child he’d been when he arrived in Camelot and the carved up man he pretends not to be now. He’d found a refuge of dirt and dying grass, and made it something beautiful. He’d used his magic to redirect the nearby stream, to plant made-up flowers. He’d grown this place to be something lovely, an escape where he could feel safe, away from Camelot and the secrets he’d held onto for so long.

Merlin hasn’t been here in years.

The moon is high in the sky. Merlin hasn’t been here in years, and he does not want to be here now.

Merlin blinks once, trying not to remember, and turns around, and walks, slowly, begrudgingly, back to Camelot. With every step, another layer of fear and hurt and disappointment and failure and dread lands on his shoulders, until the normal weight on his back has returned. He doesn’t report to Arthur, and he doesn’t speak to Gaius.

Merlin returns home, to the confines of his room, and lies in a bed he has long since outgrown.

Merlin doesn’t sleep long, because he had gone home far too late. He wakes with an exhausted sigh, his magic buzzing all too loudly in his ears, but when he stands he forces himself to take a deep breath and smile. He can do this. Merlin can be alright. Maybe Arthur will talk to him today, trust him the way he used to, and maybe Merlin will not have to work to smile, and maybe he’ll be invited along today after all.

To see the druids killed.

There really is no winning in Camelot, is there?

Merlin pretends to be interested in whatever Gaius is saying at the table that morning, and smiles and laughs as Gwen gossips in the kitchen. He steals the bread off Arthur’s tray, and greets him with a laugh when he walks into his chamber. He tries not to act as concerned as he is to find Arthur clutching a pillow and waking with a gasp and a heaving chest, because Arthur claims he’s fine.

Merlin can’t help the small smile that crosses his face when Arthur stumbles over his words when he spots the plum on his tray, however. That’s a smile he doesn’t have to force, the kind of smile he couldn’t stop if he tried.

Merlin opens Arthur’s curtains, and tries to look like he’s doing some sort of chore, and not openly staring at and worrying about his dear friend.

“So you’ll be riding out just after breakfast.” Merlin said, when the silence had stretched too long. “To…hunt those druids down.” Merlin feels a spike of gratitude at not having to see it, but it’s squashed by his worry for Arthur.

Arthur only nodded, looking at his tray but staring at nothing in particular.

Because Merlin is not actually working at all, he catches the moment that Arthur rolls his shoulders, can see the discomfort on his face.

Merlin truly can’t stop himself when he says, “I can help, if you want.” He walks towards Arthur. He thinks of all the acupressure he’d done for Gaius’ patients, and hates himself for feeling like this is different somehow.

“I work with Gaius, Arthur, I promise I know what I’m doing.” Merlin finished, trying to sound like he was teasing and not completely desperate to help Arthur in any way he could. He left his hands just above Arthur’s shoulders, waiting for a response. “It could help?”

Arthur nods, but it’s so slight that Merlin worries he only feels pressured to do so. Perhaps he could hear the tremble in Merlin’s voice.

“You sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind.” Arthur’s soft whisper of a response finally came. “If you think it could help.”

And so Merlin softly places his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. He finds the knots in Arthur’s shoulders slowly, working each one as gently as he can. Arthur’s eyes seem to close for a moment, but then he stiffens once again. It reminds Merlin of the bath, yesterday, and so he begins to hum.

His magic trembles in his fingers, but not in the greedy way he so often feels. Then again, his magic has never been greedy with Arthur. Merlin often feels his magic is more Arthur’s than his own. And so he allows it to seep into Arthur’s skin, casting a quiet protection spell, weaving it into his bones. It won’t last long, really, no more than a few days. But his magic settles, content, and Arthur seems to relax.

Merlin stops after a long while, but can’t bring himself to remove his hands from Arthur’s shoulders. He can’t bring himself to pull away. He wishes he could make Arthur stay here, safe with him, always. He wishes he could make Arthur understand, and wishes he could convince Arthur that magic isn’t so bad, even if Merlin has long since stopped believing that to be true. He wishes that Arthur would tell him why he suddenly seems so much older and so much more worn.

“Where have you gone?” Merlin whispered, without really meaning to.

He misses his best friend. Arthur had always been the one to bring him sunlight, when Merlin was feeling especially dark. And now it feels as though Arthur is drowning, and Merlin is suffocating, and they are so far apart that nothing can be done.

“Please, I…” Merlin heard himself say. He wants to tell Arthur that he misses him, and that he is so worried for him, and to please come home to him. Instead, he says, “We used to talk more than this.”

Arthur is silent. He doesn’t hear nor answer Merlin’s silent wishes. Merlin can feel him take a deep breath, and lets his hands fall from the finality of it.

Arthur stands. Merlin splits in half.

Half of him screams to wait, wait, wait.

Instead, Merlin pulls Arthur to him by the waist, holding him as closely as he can manage, hugging him and feeling like it is the most natural thing in the world.

To his relief, Arthur hugs him back before even a second has time to pass, his arms reaching up and around his neck, pulling Merlin deeper into the hug.

And Merlin wonders, for only a moment, why he had thought happiness was so hard to achieve.

“Please stay.” Merlin mumbles. Except his head is tucked into Arthur’s neck, whose head is in turn snuggled into his chest.

“Hm?” Arthur said, pulling back a bit. Merlin wonders if he had heard him, wonders if he’s chosen to ignore it, wonders if he knows how much Merlin needed this hug.

“Gonna be late.” Merlin spoke, louder now.

Arthur is the one to pull away. Which is understandable. Merlin could never let go, even if he wanted to. But Arthur doesn’t move away from him, doesn’t step back the way Merlin expects him to. It feels a little like progress.

“You don’t have to tell me whatever it is now.” Merlin said. This is true. He doesn’t need Arthur to tell him now. He just needs to know that Arthur still trusts him. He needs to know that Arthur will tell him, one day, maybe. The same way Merlin needs to know that he can share his own secrets, one day, maybe. Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s, and Merlin can’t name the feeling of staring into the sun that is the bright blue of Arthur’s eyes. “But I want you to know I’m here. And whatever it is, I’m not leaving. Even if it’s something bad. Even if it’s causing you nightmares.”

Arthur takes a step back. Merlin hopes that’s not the answer he thinks it is.

“Thank you. I—I’ll be better. I can be better.” Merlin wonders how that is possible. He wonders how this is an answer at all. “I’m just…Tired.”

Merlin can’t help but snort, and for a moment he feels a little younger.

“Yeah, I got that bit.” An idea popped into his head. It’s almost embarrassing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Gaius might have something for that, though. To help you sleep better.” Arthur was shaking his head before Merlin had even finished his suggestion.

“I’ll be okay. On my own.”

Merlin feels a piece of him break, a little, at this, and closes his eyes with the heaviness of this glass window of hope shattering at his feet. How did it get like this? Why are they standing so close and still so far apart? Merlin can feel his lip quiver.

“You don’t have to be though.” Merlin whispers, begging. He tries to swallow the sob he feels rising in his throat.

“Princess!” Gwaine’s voice called loudly through the door. “We’re all waiting for you!”

And for a moment, Merlin can pretend like this conversation hadn’t gone so horribly wrong, because both of them answer together.

“ON THE WAY!” They yell out together, and giggle afterwards.

But as soon as the moment is over, the uncertainty returned. Merlin dressed Arthur quickly, but made time to dust his shoulders, feeling the shimmer of the protection spell he’d casted.

Then Arthur hugs him.

This is the first time Arthur has ever been the one to reach to him, to initiate contact, to hold him back. Merlin treasures it, soaks it in like sunlight.

“Please forgive me.” Arthur whispers. Merlin wants to return the phrase back to him, yearns to beg for forgiveness he does not deserve.

“Be careful.” Merlin replied.

Arthur nodded, grabbed his sword, glanced at Merlin one last time, and left.

Merlin does not follow him. His feet are planted to the floor.

Instead, he sinks down to his knees, and wishes he could cry. He doesn’t, though. He just sits there, numb, wishing Arthur would return and trust him the way he used to. Wishing Arthur wasn’t about to kill druids. Wishing he was anyone else at all.

Chapter Text

Merlin is returning home to Gaius, bag full of supplies, another quiet day of Arthur being away, when he feels it.

It’s like the air has left his body for a moment, like someone has punched right through him.

Merlin drops the bag as he falls to his knees in pain. His magic feels far away. Merlin can’t explain this. He blinks rapidly in an attempt to clear the black spots that dot his vision. He feels as though he’s been snapped in half.

And then his breath returns, and his pain eases. His magic feels cold. Dimmed, perhaps. As if it’s not entirely with Merlin.

He wonders what in the world this could’ve been. He rushes home to Gaius, and asks his advice. But Gaius can’t come up with anything either.

It’s not until the hour passes, and Merlin stands by the gate with Gwen, ready to greet the incoming knights when he sees it. Or, more specifically, sees Arthur.

Somewhere far away, he hears the gasps of the people around him. Faintly, he registers Gwen’s hand tightening on his arm. But Merlin can not see or hear or feel anything, really. Arthur is collapsed and bleeding, being carried by Gwaine on his horse. Merlin can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare and pray and beg the Gods. The world goes blurry as Merlin’s feet rush him toward Arthur, and he realizes he’s crying.

“Arthur!” He shouts out as he reaches Gwaine. “Is he...Is he…?”

“He’s still alive, now help me get him to Gaius!” Gwaine rushes back. Merlin can feel Arthur’s skin under his fingers more-so than he remembers moving to pick him up. Leon and Percival clear the way and help them carry Arthur, who has not stirred. Arthur’s head falls back and he looks closer to dead than Merlin has ever seen him.

“Oh dear.” Gaius said as he saw the group enter. “Put him on the table.”

They did so, and the knights backed up, but Merlin remained hovering over him, trying to gasp for air, or for some sense that Arthur is breathing.

“Merlin, help cut his clothes. Sir Gwaine, what happened here?”

Merlin wishes he could scoop the images of Arthur being attacked by bandits out of his mind, after Gwaine informs them of the arrow. Merlin could’ve prevented that.

“I’ll need you all to leave us, you can wait outside but we’ll need the area for now.” Gaius commanded.

Merlin is pretty sure that was Gaius. But everything is stained in Arthur’s blood, and Merlin can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t…

“Merlin.” Gaius spoke firmly. “You need to focus, my boy.” Merlin looked up to meet his gaze, swallowed the bile coming up his throat, and gave a stiff nod.

“Strange.” Gaius murmurs to himself, after the knights had gone.

“What?”

“I don’t mean to worry you, but…” Gaius took a deep sigh. “He should be dead. This is a fatal hit. Nearly cut him in half.” He murmured.

Merlin remembers the invisible punch he’d received an hour ago. It physically pains him to know the exact moment Arthur had gotten hit.

“It was the protection spell I’d cast on him.” Merlin whispered aloud as he realized. “Must’ve been. My magic dealt me the extra damage.” Gaius looks Arthur over again.

“Well, it’s a good thing you did it, but I’m not sure it’s enough. He’s lost a lot of blood, my boy.”

Merlin nearly growls at him. Gaius quiets, and goes to begin working on Arthur.

It’s a long process of removing the fragments of wood in Arthur’s wound, and disinfecting him, and Gaius stitching him up, and bandaging him. All the while, Merlin is passing Gaius his tools, and carefully placing as many healing spells as he can remember. Usually he’d help more, but Merlin’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Is that it?” Merlin asked, once Gaius pulled away. “He’s not…he will wake up, won’t he, Gaius?”

Gaius shook his head.

“I’m not sure.” He answered evasively.

“What does that mean?” Merlin demanded. Gaius went to wash his hands. Merlin did not leave Arthur’s side.

“It means I’m not sure, child.”

Merlin glowered at him, clutching Arthur’s hand.

“I am not a child.” Merlin snarled. Gaius takes a deep breath.

“If he wakes soon, there is hope.”

Merlin sits beside his dearest friend, watching his slow, unsteady breathing, waiting for him to wake up. Faintly, Merlin notices the sun has moved. His magic is exhausted from the hours of healing spells, but Merlin can’t stop. How can he? Arthur cannot die here, now. He can’t.

He just can’t.

Merlin’s heart has not stopped racing since he first spotted the knights at the gates. He can barely remember what air in his lungs feels like. All Merlin can do is sit, crumpled, beside Arthur, praying to Gods he no longer believes in.

“Merlin.” Gaius’ voice is quiet, calling to him from the doorway of his bedroom. Merlin stumbles toward him. “I’m so sorry, my boy. I don’t think…”

“He’ll wake up soon!” Merlin exclaimed, his face contorting, a sob rising in his throat.

“It’s been too many hours, Merlin. There is nothing to be done.”

“That’s not true!” Merlin’s words rip out of him, and Gaius reaches to him. “Don’t touch me! You aren’t even trying to save him!”

“Even your magic could not help, Merlin. I’m afraid he won’t make it through the night.”

Merlin has never been burnt alive. He has never been gutted, hollowed out, all while standing. And yet here he is, feeling every bit of that invisible pain. Merlin feels his heart literally stop beating.

“No, no, no, no, he is fine, he is fine,” Merlin repeats and repeats and sobs and Gaius tries to calm him down, but he truly can’t hear a word the older man says. “I don’t even know what you’re saying that for!” He yells out. Merlin’s sadness boils into rage. How could he have not gone with Arthur? How had the knights let this happen? Why is Gaius just letting him die? “He is going to be fine, Gaius!”

“It isn’t looking well, and I just want you to be prepared—” Gaius tries again, louder, so that Merlin could hear him through his crying. Merlin wants to kill him.

“He is going to be fine!” He screams, and stomps back to Arthur, and sits at his side once again. He hears Gaius sigh, and his bedroom door closes behind him. Merlin takes Arthur’s hand gently. He can feel the calluses of the experienced swordfighter, the years of hardened skin. Arthur’s hand is rough, huge in comparison to Merlin’s much smaller, dainty hands. “He has to be.” Merlin whispers, staring at their entwined hands. “He has to be.”

Merlin falls asleep beside Arthur, comforted in being able to hear his ragged breathing.

He’s still breathing.

At some point Gaius shakes Merlin’s shoulder to wake him.

“I’ve just made my report to the King. He wants Arthur moved to his chambers.” Gaius said quietly.

“What? We can’t move him! He’s barely breathing as it is! Tell him no!”

“It wasn’t a request, my boy. Will you fetch one or two of the knights? I will check his bandages.”

Merlin feels his heart drop. What if he leaves Arthur’s side, and he wakes all alone? What if he leaves Arthur’s side, and he dies?

Merlin places a gentle kiss to the knuckle of Arthur’s hand, which he’d been holding for hours, and runs out the door as quickly as he can, hoping to return before anything happens at all.

He doesn’t have to go very far to find Gwaine, Leon, Percival, Gwen, and Morgana all sitting together, looking solemn. They all look to him with horrified expressions. Morgana looks stricken, and stands.

“Oh, Gods, no.” She whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.

“He’s still alive.” Merlin said rushedly. Morgana sobs again, louder. “We need to carry him to his chambers. Uther said.” Leon and Gwaine nod, and Percival agrees to stay behind. Gwen follows them, and back to Gaius’ they run.

Leon and Gwaine hold Arthur as steady as they can, but they’ll have to carry him up flights of stairs. Merlin hates Uther more than he’d ever thought possible.

He feels Gwen’s hand on his arm as they follow the men up to Arthur’s room.

“Will he…?” She whispered, looking faint.

“Yes.” Merlin said sternly. He has to. He has to. Then, quieter, “Gaius said he might not.”

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

“He is going to be fine.” Merlin responded.

She waits to speak again until Leon and Gwaine have successfully carried Arthur up the stairs and placed him on his bed. She waits until they have all heard him breathe.

“I can watch him for a while, let you get cleaned up.” She offered softly.

“What?” Merlin asked. She seems so much more gentle than she had ever been, as if Merlin might break. She guides him to the mirror in the corner of Arthur’s room.

Merlin realizes why Morgana had assumed he’d died upon sight. Merlin cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are teary, his hair nearly torn out. He wears Arthur’s blood on his shirt. Had he really bled this much?

“Oh.” Merlin said. “No. I’ll stay by his side until he wakes. I’m sure it will be soon.” Gwen nods, and they all stay awhile, but eventually depart to tell the others of Arthur’s condition. Merlin carries Arthur’s chair from his desk to his bedside, and sits in it quietly.

He can’t help himself when he reaches for Arthur’s hand again, clasping it with both hands, holding on for dear life.

Merlin calms himself enough that he can cast more healing spells. His magic shrivels, weakened. He ignores it.

He waits for Arthur to wake up. He waits, and waits, and waits.

Eventually he falls asleep beside Arthur, grasping his hand, unable to sleep anywhere else.

Merlin wakes up in the morning.

Arthur does not.

But he’s still breathing, and so Merlin hates Gaius for lying to him earlier, and loves Gaius for being wrong.

He leaves Arthur’s side for only a moment, to open the curtains. He stands beside the window, looking over Arthur. He looks much more alive in the sun than he had in the dark. There is more color in his face, at least. He lies so still, but Merlin can make out the small rise and fall of his chest. Merlin has often seen Arthur sick, or injured, or poisoned, or even dying a few times over the years. But it’s never been like this. There has always been something he could do, some way to stop it, some way to help. Instead it feels like his healing spells are only keeping him on death’s door, rather than him going through it.

And so Merlin just watches Arthur for a while. Admiring the ridge of his nose, and his ridiculously sharp jawline, and the way his light lashes look almost golden in the sunlight.

For no reason at all, Merlin starts bawling.

He goes back over to his chair, crumpled in on himself, and sobs.

“Do you want the truth, Arthur?” Merlin whispered, sometime after he’d calmed down. “I don’t care for anyone the way I care for you. Or look at anyone the way I do you. If you die, darling…I won’t survive it.”

Merlin has tried so much to push it all down. But looking at Arthur, really having the time to look at him, Merlin knows what a lie it had been. What a fool he’d been to have ever believed it.

This is, and has always been, love.

There is no escaping it, or running from it, or pushing it down. There is only pretending and admitting.

Merlin brushes the hair from Arthur’s eyes.

“Please live through this.” Merlin begged.

Sometime later, Gwen came in with a thin soup.

“How is he?” She asked. Merlin shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

In her free hand, she rubs Merlin’s back.

“He’ll be alright, Merlin. I can tell.”

“Can you?” Merlin raised an eyebrow. Gwen nodded. Merlin could tell she still looked sad, and very very afraid.

“Yes. He’ll be just fine.” She puts the soup on Arthur’s bedside table. “Let’s move him a bit upright, and see if he’ll take any?” Merlin nods, and helps her.

Merlin’s hands are still too shaky. Gwen takes the spoon from him and feeds the smallest bit to Arthur. He swallows, and Gwen and Merlin both smile, relieved.

Merlin has watched some of Gaius’ patients die on the table from starvation. Those are the ones who spit up their food, even in their deep slumber. Merlin is pretty sure he knows a spell to fill Arthur’s stomach without making him eat anything though, in case something changes.

“He’s lucky to have you, you know.” Gwen said softly. Merlin blinked.

“Is he? I couldn’t even be bothered to go with him.” Merlin answered, his voice rough and tired.

“He told you not to.” Gwen reminded.

“And since when has that stopped me?” Merlin spit back.

“Maybe. But maybe this was going to happen anyway. Either way, we both know he is alive because of you. Stable, because of you.” She said, voice still so gentle and kind.

“He has to live, Gwen. I don’t know what I’ll…” Merlin’s voice breaks. Gwen puts down the soup to embrace Merlin in a hug. Merlin whimpers into her shoulder. “What if he…What if he…”

Gwen doesn’t say much. She just rubs his back and waits for Merlin to catch his breath. This doesn’t happen, though. Merlin hasn’t caught his breath since yesterday. Eventually he does calm down, but she doesn’t pull away.

“I…I love him.” Merlin whispers. He needs to tell someone, because what if Arthur never knows?

“I know, dear, I know.” She seems to say this to be comforting, but Merlin pulls away from her.

“What do you mean, you know?”

“Oh, Merlin, everyone knows.” She explains.

“How could everyone know? I didn’t even know!”

“What do you mean, you didn’t know?” She asks.

“I mean, I didn’t know!” Merlin exclaims, exasperated.

“What? Really?” Merlin glares at her. It’s more of a tease though, and the smallest of smiles sits on his face. Only Gwen could cheer him up at a time like this.

“Who else knows?” Merlin demands. Gwen shrugs.

“Everyone.” She answers. Merlin goes pale.

“Does…Does Arthur know?” He realizes slowly how pitiful he must seem, to have Arthur know—

“Oh, Gods, no! He is the last to know everything, it seems.”

This makes Merlin bark out a laugh.

He sits back in his chair.

“I miss him.” Merlin said quietly.

Gwen nods, and they talk a little more, but Merlin has a feeling he’s done laughing for the day. She feeds Arthur the rest of his soup, and tries to cheer Merlin up a bit. She really only succeeds on the former, though.

“You stay here with him. I’ll bring you some fresh clothes and food, alright?” She said eventually. Merlin nods, and she takes the empty bowl with her.

Gwen returns with food and clothes and reassurances, and leaves again.

Merlin waits, and waits, and waits.

He stays by Arthur’s side the rest of the day, feeling completely useless. Gwen comes by again with food for Arthur. Gaius comes to check on the patient. Arthur doesn’t wake up.

Merlin falls asleep by his side.

Until Arthur stirs. Merlin, tuned into the sound, hears the mumble and jolts upright.

“Arthur?” He said quietly. Except Arthur’s eyes are still closed.

“No, no…” Arthur murmured, brow furrowed.

Merlin instinctively reached for him, only to feel a sheen of sweat on his face. Arthur’s eyes move beneath their eyelids, but he doesn’t open them. He only quietly calls out an apology, or mumbles for help.

“Sh, sh, Arthur, it’s alright.” Merlin said, but he wouldn’t calm down. His head shakes back and forth, but his body doesn’t move at all. Merlin remembers the way Arthur had tensed in the bath and at his desk, and begins to hum. He pets Arthur’s hair slowly, and watches as Arthur seems to settle. Merlin hums like that for a long while, one hand holding Arthur’s, the other smoothing his hair. He does this until Arthur’s brows unfurrow, and he relaxes back into sleep.

“There you are, darling.” Merlin whispers to a now peacefully asleep Arthur. “You just rest. You’re safe. I’ll protect you, I promise.”

Merlin hums his mother’s song for a long while, watching the moon rise in the sky.

His mother had always sung him this song when he’d been hurt, or when the older kids would pick on him.

Merlin had never fit in anywhere, really. But he always felt most comfortable beside Arthur. He isn’t even really sure when that started, because when they first met, he’d been convinced Arthur was an arrogant oaf. Which he was. But somewhere along the way Merlin shut up long enough to realize that Arthur was also someone gentle and kind and thoughtful, and so deeply courageous. He’d saved Merlin more than a few times, despite the fact that he is only a servant. His father screamed at him for it everytime, but Arthur never hesitated. Never once. And they just talked, all the time, really. They learned each other on journeys and in dungeons and chasing down whatever offender was attacking. And now it’s been years, and Merlin prefers Arthur’s company to everyone else’s.

Merlin’s unbelievably embarrassed that he hadn’t known to call that love. Or maybe he was just too caught up in himself to be able to admit anything at all.

Eventually Merlin forces himself out of his chair, leaving the room in search of a wet cloth to put on Arthur’s forehead. He supposes, halfway down the hallway, that he could just conjure one. But Merlin needs to stretch his legs, and look at something that isn’t his dying best friend.

Merlin decides that the kitchens are his best bet for already warm water, and is glad to see that the bin of cloths is full and clean. He takes one and dips it in water, checking that it’s the right temperature.

He misses Arthur. But not just because he’s injured. Not just because he isn’t waking up. He misses his best friend, and the feeling of wanting to tell him the truth. When had Merlin given up on telling Arthur his magic? When had he finally swallowed the words he’d held on his tongue for so long?

Merlin can’t pinpoint the day, but he is sure that that moment is when their friendship began to drift. When he had given up hope of it ever growing anymore, he’d stopped it from expanding at all.

Merlin admits a hard fact to himself, here in the empty kitchen: Arthur wouldn’t have burned those druid camps if he’d known about Merlin’s magic. He just wouldn’t have. It’s not in him. At the very worst, he would have banished Merlin for his own safety. But at the very best, he’d have to face his father. Arthur would win physically, but emotionally? Merlin couldn’t ask that of him. How long could he live before he began resenting the person that made him a killer?

And so Merlin has never known what to do. What is the right answer?

Is it selfish to tell him?

Is it spineless to not?

Merlin brings the cloth back to Arthur, folding it and placing it on his forehead. Merlin puts a hand on Arthur’s chest, feeling it rise and fall. Merlin’s heart can only really calm down when he is sure that Arthur’s is still beating.

The days begin to blur together. Merlin doesn’t leave Arthur’s side very much. Once, Gaius comes in to check Arthur’s wound and mentions that he will need a cane, when he wakes up.

Gaius has stopped saying ‘if’ he wakes up. Merlin doesn’t know if it’s because he’s finally sure or because he was sick of being on the receiving end of Merlin’s unblinking glare.

Either way, this is how Merlin spends his time. He weaves the cane from the embers in the fireplace, crafting them together. He takes his time, often scrapping his design and starting over. Besides occasionally calming Arthur from his nightmares, there isn’t much else to do. Merlin has discovered it’s not hard to help ease Arthur’s nightmares at all.

“Sh, sh, darling, it’s alright. Everything is alright.”

Gwen comes with food and clothes and a comb for Merlin. Merlin thanks her profusely on the third day, when he’s remembered his manners. She only pats his shoulder and tells him that everything will be alright. She is often accompanied by flowers from the servants and townspeople, telling stories of how deeply everyone loves the Prince.

On the fourth day, Morgana comes to visit Arthur. Merlin moves to the fireplace, to give her the illusion of being alone. He switches to polishing Arthur’s sword, unsure if Morgana knows of his magic.

Morgana paces for a little while, then eventually sits beside Arthur, talking so quietly Merlin can’t make it out.

Morgana and Arthur aren’t actually related, but they might as well be. Arthur doesn’t revere anyone as highly as he does Morgana. Once, on a late night, when Merlin was reviewing a document Arthur had drafted, they’d gotten distracted in laughter and a long conversation. Merlin remembers the candlelight as Arthur had told him the happiest pieces of his childhood, most of which consisted of Morgana. In his exhaustion, he’d even called her his sister.

He hopes Arthur can’t hear her quiet sobs. He’d really only blame himself for them.

After that, people visit more often. Gwaine comes frequently, though more to check on Merlin along with Arthur. Leon and Percival visit too. Percival tears up a bit, and Leon can only stare.

Merlin opens Arthur’s curtains each morning. He closes them each night. He doesn’t know why. It doesn’t matter much.

He talks to Arthur often. Very often. He worries sometimes that Arthur could hear him, but eventually decides he doesn’t care. He calls Arthur ‘darling’ flippantly. He tells him about his magic. He tells him he loves him. Merlin confesses his fears and insecurities and the way he’s been so mad at himself for so long. And then he goes back to whatever chore he’s working on.

Sometimes, when Gwen comes in to make him leave the room and stretch his legs, Merlin goes to polish Arthur’s armor. He polishes and re-polishes. And then he returns to Arthur’s side, humming quietly and working on the cane.

He decides to keep it that dark ember color. It looks wooden though, and carved fantastically. At the top, the wood spawls over, leaving space for Merlin to encase crystals in glass. He makes up gems, or re-creates the ones he can remember.

Then Gaius begins to visit more often.

“How is he looking to you?” Merlin asked, on the eighth day.

“Better. I do think he’ll make it.”

Merlin sat straight up.

“Really?”

“Yes, I think so. He’s still got some fighting to do, but his wound is healing nicely, and he’s strong.”

Merlin waits until Gaius is gone to cry, just a little.

Since Arthur returned to Camelot on his deathbed, Merlin has cried three times. That’s more than he has in the past year, maybe two. He isn’t sure why. Something in him just kept pushing it down, down, down. But now he can’t. He feels so fragile, so cracked and open and waiting.

Merlin is always waiting.

On the twelfth day, Gwen forces Merlin on a short walk. Gwaine promises to post himself outside Arthur’s door, and reminds Merlin that he needs to try out his homemade cane anyways. So Merlin relents, and tries to breathe in the fresh air.

“I must really need a bath.” Merlin commented. Gwen snorted.

“I’ve been trying not to mention it.” She giggles. “Gaius said he’ll make it.” After he’d informed Merlin, Gaius had gone straight to Morgana and the King. Merlin nods.

“Well, I wish he’d hurry up so I could stop worrying so much.” Merlin answered. In truth, he is beyond relieved each time he thinks of Gaius’ prediction. But he can’t really say that without bursting into frantic, frenzied tears, so he doesn’t. Gwen laughs good-naturally.

“Honestly! How rude of him. We’re all worried sick. Morgana’s barely slept a wink.”

“Poor thing.” Merlin said earnestly. Gwen only nods. Merlin aches to return to Arthur’s side, so Gwen allows them to turn around, and slowly get back to the castle. They stop by Gaius’ to put the finished cane away, then finally, Merlin is back in the castle. Gwen gives him a hug goodbye, and Gwaine gives him a hug hello, and Merlin is back in the room he’s spent the last twelve days in.

Merlin spends the following morning polishing Arthur’s sword by the fireplace. He’s gone about his usual routine of opening the curtains, and redoing long done chores, and his usual “Good morning, Darling.” He’s settled in for another day of waiting, waiting, waiting.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to.

“Where’s my breakfast?” Arthur’s voice is weak. Merlin jolts his head up to see Arthur with his eyes open for the first time in far, far too long.

He jumps upright, ignoring the sound of the sword clashing to the ground.

He longs to hug Arthur, to hold him close, but suddenly worries it will cause him pain. He settles for placing a hand on his cheek. He ignores the chair in favor of sitting on the bed beside Arthur, facing him.

“Finally.” Merlin whispers, choked up. Finally, he’s sure. Finally, Arthur is safe beside him once again. Finally, he can see the light blue of Arthur’s eyes, enjoy the way he looks about the room, breathe in the way he blinks. Finally, Merlin can breathe. “Gods, I…” Merlin chokes a little. “We were so worried. Wait till you see how many bouquets arrived for you. All of Camelot has been praying for you.”

“Even you?” Arthur asks. He seems to drift off for a moment, his eyes closing, and Merlin forces himself to stay calm. He’s alive, that’s all that matters.

“Especially me.” Merlin admits. He’s pretty sure the whole castle knows that’s true. He found himself reaching for Arthur’s hair, the way he has so often these past days. He allows himself to continue reaching out, petting Arthur’s hair, just as he has been.

“Missed you.” Arthur says, eyes still closed. Merlin has to physically swallow a sob.

“Missed you too. So much, Arthur.”

Merlin is about to start humming when Arthur seems to shoot up. He wears his sudden pain plainly on his face, and Merlin’s hand falls to his side.

“Did you say all of Camelot? Why would all of Camelot be worried? How long have I slept?” Arthur rapid-fires. Merlin tries to ease his stresses best he can, knowing he’d be worried about the knights he’d traveled with.

“Calm down, Arthur. It’s all okay.” He can’t help the hand that reaches for Arthur again, and places it on his shoulder. “Everyone is safe. Even you, now.” Arthur seems to calm at this.

“How long have I slept?” He asks again, voice less rushed. Merlin takes a deep breath.

“Thirteen days. It was touch-and-go for a while. Gaius had just about given up on your lazy arse.”

“Is everyone else alright? Leon and Percy—” Arthur began, but Merlin couldn’t help but smile and squint.

“Since when do you call them that?” Arthur rolls his eyes. It’s the most beautiful thing Merlin has ever seen. “They’re fine.” He answered, as calmly as he could. “You were attacked by bandits. Archers. But your knights saved your life, raced back to Camelot in record time after they’d fought them all. You should’ve seen the look on Uther’s face. Bet he was real sorry for ever trying to execute Gwaine.” Gwen had told him this story. Merlin doesn’t know how much he believes it. Uther hadn’t even come to see his son. The imbecile.

Arthur started coughing, and Merlin kicked himself for not thinking to keep water at Arthur’s bedside.

“How about I get you some soup, hm? Kitchen’s been preparing it fresh for the past eight days, just in case you woke up.” Arthur nodded.

Merlin tried to look calm as he exited the room, but didn’t bother in the hallway. He ran all the way to the kitchen, his joy radiating from him, burrowing into him, filling him up. Finally, finally, finally. Merlin is nervous to stay away from Arthur too long, but takes a moment to look around for Gwen. It’s almost lunchtime, so she should be—

“Merlin?” Merlin spun around, his huge smile unmissable on his face.

“He’s awake, Gwen! He’s awake!” Merlin nearly yelled. Gwen matched his smile and held out her arms. Merlin hugged her more tightly than he’d ever hugged anyone, and spun her around. They broke apart when Merlin realized the whole kitchen was cheering and hugging.

Gwen hadn’t been lying about the servants.

Everyone had been desperately worried about the Prince.

Everyone whooped and cheered and the cook herself handed Merlin the bowl of stew with a smile, patting his cheek. Merlin beamed right back and raced to return to Arthur. He only stopped for a moment to turn to Gwen.

“I’ll come get Morgana when he’s more awake, but go ahead and tell her, yeah?” Gwen broke into a huge smile, and nodded.

Merlin rushed to return to Arthur’s side, having to take several deep breaths to catch his breath from all the running. He returned to his spot on Arthur’s bed. Arthur smiled as he walked in, and Merlin thought he might die from his pure, radiating, uncontrollable joy.

Arthur tried to take the bowl from Merlin’s hands, but Merlin held it out of his grasp.

“Oh, hush. I’ll do it.” Merlin commanded.

Even feeding Arthur soup made him overcome with joy. It’s as if Arthur’s golden sunshine quality had finally rubbed off on Merlin, knitting itself into his skin, sewing his smile on. He couldn’t stop smiling if he tried.

Arthur only took two mouthfuls before he pulled back to speak.

“Gwaine said that I should ask you…about magic.” He said slowly, nervously.

Merlin’s temporary moment of elation and easy breathing is squashed. Gwaine had ratted him out, and hadn’t even told him?

“What?” He gasped. No, that can’t be right. Gwaine wouldn’t do that, surely.

“I was telling Gwaine how you hate magic,” Arthur started. What? What is happening? Merlin’s head is spinning from the whiplash that is this conversation. “And he said you could never hate anything. I figure if you can put up with me, he might have a point.” That makes some sense, Merlin supposed. He forced himself to breathe.

“But why did you tell him I hate magic?”

“Because you do.” Arthur answered plainly.

“What? No I don’t!”

Well. Did Merlin hate magic? No, because he doesn’t mind the druids. Merlin really only hates his own magic.

“Yes you do!” Arthur exclaimed.

“What made you think that?” Merlin’s head has finally caught up to this conversation and he decides that he’s been very, very stupid.

“You said so!”

“When?” Merlin defended, exasperated.

Arthur blinks rapidly. Merlin almost asks him to lie back down, but Arthur’s barely touched his stew.

“I…I thought you said…” He said finally. Merlin takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s time.

“I definitely don’t hate magic.” He whispered.

“Good. Me neither.” Arthur said.

And now Merlin has whiplash again.

Merlin has always known Arthur hates magic. That’s a fact. That’s just a fact. Merlin couldn’t tell Arthur, because Arthur hated magic, and cared for Merlin, and it would crack him in half.

And now…he doesn’t?

Arthur doesn’t hate magic?

Merlin’s relief at seeing Arthur awake absolutely outshines the confused relief he feels now.

“Really?” He heard himself asking.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

Merlin looked down to his lap. Arthur had just burned druid camps. These two things cannot coexist.

“The other knights won’t tell me what happened on your trip. But their report to Uther…” Merlin trailed off.

“You’ll have to keep a secret, Merlin.” Merlin nearly laughed at this, and looked back up to see Arthur staring at him seriously. “There was a plan.”

Merlin has no other warning for the information overload he receives next.

“I rode with Uther’s knights to the first camp. With Leon.” Arthur began. “I’ve been against my father’s laws for over a year now, but when I was there…being against it morally, standing aside…It wasn’t enough. So Leon and I helped druids escape.” Arthur eyes water and his voice trembles. “We didn’t save many, though…Not many at all. Not enough. Uther’s knights laughed and murdered and burned down that village and I couldn’t do anything to stop them. ”

Merlin wipes away the tear that slides down Arthur’s cheek.

“That’s what the nightmares are of. I watch them die. Over and over again. The ones I couldn’t save. The ones I let be slaughtered by my knights. I see them when I sleep, but I hear their screams in the daylight. I can still smell the ash of their homes. Their faces are carved into my ceiling. And I deserve it. I am soaked in their blood. I led the raid on their homes. Mine was the last face they saw. And I couldn’t save them.

“But I could tell everyone to return to Camelot. So we did. I knew my father would send knights out again, to murder the rest of them. So I convinced him to let me lead a stealth raid. With my knights.” Arthur smiled at this. “We weren’t going to kill anyone. Not this time. But I was fine with letting him believe otherwise. Percival and Gwaine agreed without a second to think, and Leon…Well. Leon had seen the first camp.”

Merlin tried to swallow his questions, to let Arthur dump it all on him. It was refreshing to hear from his dearest friend again. He watches as Arthur’s face takes on that natural golden hue as he comes to life with good memories as he continues.

“So instead, we went to visit the next nearest camp, to give my apologies and swear my allegiance to them. And they were all so lovely, Merlin, it was unbelievable. Elrand, the leader of the camp, showed us such kindness and hospitality. She let us stay the night there, and enjoy their food and company. It was so wonderful, I can’t even explain it. The way they danced and sang, and the way the children played. Gwaine was their favorite, but there was a little girl, Melian. She spoke to me in her mind! And she was so sweet, and she turned out to be Elrand’s granddaughter! Can you believe that? And they fed us soup, and we ate by the campfire, and looked at the stars. And they’re all safe, too.” Arthur takes a visible breath. “They’re all safe.”

Merlin doesn’t realize he has tears in his eyes until Arthur’s brows furrow in worry. He can tell him! Merlin can finally tell Arthur of his magic, and be free of this years-long weight on his shoulders! Arthur doesn’t hate magic, and this will just be another secret he can lie to his father about, and everything is alright after all!

Merlin is about to open his mouth, to lay his truth bare, when Arthur beats him to it.

“Can I tell you another secret, Merlin?” Merlin nodded, still excited, but happy to wait. He’d waited years for this moment, what’s another few minutes? Wait, wait, wait.

“If you have more soup first.” Merlin teases him. He reheats the stew silently, knowing it had long gone cold, then feeds it to Arthur. He eats enough of it to please Merlin, so he sets the bowl down and waits to hear the rest of Arthur’s secrets.

“Morgana has magic.” Arthur said finally. This is a surprise to Merlin. He’ll have to talk to her about it later. “And that’s fine. Really. Except that she only just told me about it. All this time I’ve known her, and sworn by her. And it’s only been going on a few months, but it feels like…Like I was just lucky she told me at all. How long would she have kept that from me? How long could someone call me their friend but still fear me?” Arthur stares ahead at the wall, tears in his eyes.

Merlin begins to shrivel.

“It makes me hate myself, more than anything else. More than the druids. More than the deaths. How can I ever live with myself, knowing I caused someone I loved so much fear?”

Merlin had waited too long to share his secret, and he had missed his chance.

“I’d die to protect Morgana, or Leon, or Percival, or Gwaine, or you, or Gwen. And the thought that even one of you haven’t known that, truly known that, all this time? I think it will break me.”

Oh.

Yes.

Of course.

Merlin has to tear his gaze away from Arthur, has to look down at his hands, has to remember how to breathe.

“I think I’ve been forced to live with many burdens, but this is by far the worst. I mean, could you imagine? If after all this time, Gwaine turned to you, and told you he had magic? Admitted that before, he’d always been a little afraid of you? All this time, he’s silently wondered if you’d see him killed?”

Merlin couldn’t imagine.

Had he really deeply been afraid of Arthur all this time? He doesn’t think so. Really, he hadn’t wanted Arthur to be afraid of him.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? Morgana’s magic is tearing him apart. What will the revelation of Merlin’s do to him? And Merlin’s top priority has always been Arthur’s well-being.

Merlin feeds Arthur the rest of his soup. He tries to remain expressionless. Tries not to wear his sick, deep, disappointment on his face.

“I can’t imagine it, Arthur. I truly never have thought of it that way before.” Merlin choked out, after he worried that too long had passed.

He’d never thought that Arthur’s acceptance of magic wouldn’t be enough. Now, every day that goes by that he waits, Arthur will be only more hurt. Morgana only discovered her magic months ago, he said? Merlin has been lying to him since the day they met.

“I’m sorry for dumping all that on you,” Arthur answered. “But it was eating me alive.” Merlin pets his hair in response, and Arthur smiles and relaxes, his eyes beginning to close.

For a moment, Merlin ignores the magical part of their conversation and enjoys that Arthur was awake at all, trusting him again, smiling again, safe again.

“Get some rest. I’ll come check up on you later. I’ll have someone report to Uther that you’ve finally stirred.”

Arthur nods, eyes still closed.

“Thank you, Merlin. You’re my favorite.” Arthur mumbled. Merlin feels nothing and everything at once.

“You’re my favorite too. Don’t tell Gwaine.” Merlin responded, petting his hair a little while longer, until Arthur finally fell asleep.

After he was sure Arthur was out again, he took the bowl and left the room. Dropped it off at the kitchens silently.

Finally, after fourteen nights slumped in a chair, Merlin goes home.

He stopped to talk to Gaius, to alert him of Arthur’s condition. Someone would have to tell the King.

Gaius hugged him and went to make a report. Merlin went to his room.

Arthur is alive. Arthur is safe. And Arthur can never ever know that he has magic.

That’s really the only solution, isn’t it? Any other way, Arthur gets hurt.

He’s stuck living with this secret, always.

Merlin screams out, filled with the rage and the grief and the worry and the fear of the last thirteen days, and every day of every year before that since his arrival in Camelot. He lashes out around his room, knocking things off his table, throwing his books to the ground. His magic reflects his anger, swinging about the room wildly. He breaks everything in sight screaming and thrashing and hating the body he is forced to live in.

Because if he wasn’t fucking cursed with this magic, he could sleep. He could be celebrating Arthur’s updated condition. Instead, he has to know for every day for the rest of forever that he can never tell Arthur. Never, at all, when fifteen minutes ago, he’d finally thought he could.

Merlin eventually collapses on his bed, which his magic must’ve cut up, and stares at the ceiling.

And he feels everything and nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Merlin feels better as the days pass. Arthur drifts in and out of consciousness, unable to hold a proper conversation for a week. It gives Merlin time, which is something he desperately needed. Speaking to Arthur had been so overwhelming and emotional, and Merlin had walked away unsure of his place in Arthur’s life.

Merlin had always been more than one thing to Arthur, and Arthur more than one thing to him. They were servant and Prince. Unexpected, sarcastic, best friends. Arthur acts as Merlin’s knight, keeping him safe, caring more than he should about a servant. And Merlin, in return, is Arthur’s protector. Arthur is introspective, and Merlin is secretive, and Arthur teases, and Merlin laughs.

Merlin has always balanced his lie on a tightrope, risking more than he should on days when he wishes Arthur would know, leaning back on days when Arthur is already too overwhelmed or stressed to handle even one more thing. Convincing himself that one day Arthur would know and forgive him for it, understanding that maybe that day would never come.

When Merlin left Arthur’s bedside seven days ago, when Arthur had finally woken up after almost two weeks of slumber, Merlin had been engulfed in his emotions. He was relieved to see Arthur safe and awake. Relief really is the only word for it. It was the feeling of having been pulled underwater, and then suddenly drawing breath from fresh air. A sense of safety after believing the fear would never end. Arthur was safe, and therefore so was Merlin.

But Merlin had only just begun to realize the depth of his love for Arthur, and begun to realize the trepidation of what that could mean in the future. (Truly, how many more secrets could he continue to keep?)

Then Arthur had come to, and confessed that he’d been fine with magic. For a year. And that apparently, Merlin had been a much better liar than he’d thought. Arthur had believed, for who knows how long, that Merlin hated magic. So Arthur saved druids, and lied to Merlin about it. Merlin can’t help but laugh when he thinks about it all for too long.

And then, as if the complexity of it all could not become more tangled, Arthur had stopped Merlin on the heels of the confession he’d waited years for, and explained the guilt of the truth that pained him. Morgana had magic, and had told him first, and it had broken him.

Over the week, Merlin nursed his wounds of disappointment, and the death of the notion of ever telling Arthur the truth. He could help Arthur protect magic, and help him heal, and protect him. Maybe that’s the best Merlin could do. And as for the understanding of his…deeper attachment to Arthur?

Maybe Merlin could…

Well, he doesn’t know what to do about that.

Gaius said, after Arthur had woken, that Arthur’s infection wasn’t healing exactly as it should. Merlin ignored him. He casted more healing spells, but he already knew. Arthur would be fine.

One good thing about the week that passes is Merlin’s sudden closeness to Morgana. It only takes him about two days to gather the courage, and the anger, to confront her. She had opened the door to his loud and unrelenting knocking.

“You have magic?!” Merlin exclaimed, “AND YOU TOLD ARTHUR?!”

Morgana only smiled, which really just riled him up more.

“Didn’t take him long to tell you, did it?” She teased lightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me first, Morgana?” Merlin’s voice wavered a little. He could’ve helped her, he could’ve taught her, he could’ve…

“Why would I tell you? Arthur’s convinced you hate magic.” Merlin rolled his eyes at her whisper of a smirk.

“Ugh,” He sighed, “We both know Gwen told you about my magic ages ago.” Morgana giggled, which made Merlin smile, just a little bit.

“Oh, don’t blame her!” Morgana defended lightly.

“I don’t! I blame you! You should’ve told me.” Merlin said, much less harsh than he had been. Morgana smiled softly and sat on her bed, gesturing for Merlin to join her.

“I didn’t want to push you.” She said softly, after Merlin had taken his seat. “I wanted you to come and tell me, when you felt ready. And then when I realized I had magic too, I wanted it to be a fair exchange of secrets.” She looked down at her dress, smoothing it out. “It wasn’t fair that someone else had told me your deepest secret. Even if it was Gwen. Just like it isn’t fair that someone else told you mine, even if it was Arthur.”

“Oh.”

“Are you…angry with me?” She quietly asked.

“No, no!” Merlin exclaimed, because any anger he’d walked in with had drained out of him. He took her hands in his own. “Of course I’m not angry. I just… I knew you knew about me, and I thought you must really dislike me to not come to me or even Gaius for help. Hiding and practicing magic in Camelot? I’ve sort of been at it for a very long while.” He ended with a smile.

“I would love your help, Merlin.” Morgana smiled back. “If you’re still offering?”

After that, Merlin’s week mostly consists of going out into the forest with Morgana, and sometimes Gwen, and teaching her new tricks and new ways of shaping and using her magic.

He tried his best to help ease her nightmares, ease her premonitions, but that was one thing Merlin really had no experience with. When Merlin dreams, he dreams of gray. He dreams of nothing at all.

Between the giggles of practicing magic with Morgana and the sleepy half-conversations with Arthur, Merlin’s week crawls by, and by the sixth night, he feels reset somehow. Arthur doesn’t have to ever know about Merlin’s magic. Merlin wishes he himself didn’t have to know. Things will be alright. Having Arthur on the side of magic? That is more than enough. More than enough.

Everything will be alright.

Merlin finds himself in Arthur’s room, as he has the past five nights. He likes to check on Arthur before he goes to bed, just to see. Just in case.

It’s not a strange thing for him to do, really, Merlin being his servant and all. He comes in each morning to open the curtains and put Arthur’s breakfast on his bedside table, and returns again at midday and dinner. And Merlin comes in a few times throughout each day, just to check in on him.

And each night, Merlin comes in and fuddles with fire, scampering around for longer than he should. He isn’t waiting for Arthur to wake up, he just wants to be here.

He doesn’t want Arthur to feel alone.

He’s seen all too often the subtle shift of Arthur slipping into a nightmare, and he’s easy to settle, really. But only if Merlin is here to settle him.

Merlin is just at the door when Arthur starts to mumble. Merlin pauses; sometimes he stops on his own. But Arthur’s eyebrows furrow together, his neck tenses, and Merlin can hear his harsh breathing.

Merlin walks over slowly, quietly glad he’d been here.

“Sh, sh, sh, it’s just a nightmare,” Merlin sits beside Arthur, sweeping his hair out of his face, “It’s alright, you’re alright. Sh, sh, you’re alright, darling.” Merlin continued, lightly stroking Arthur’s cheek.

Instead of calming down, Arthur’s eyes opened.

Merlin pulled back reflexively, eyes wide. Had Arthur heard what Merlin had said?

“Do I have nightmares often?” He asked with a smile, his voice rougher than usual. Arthur probably wouldn’t be so relaxed if he had heard Merlin calling him a pet name and brushing his cheek so he must have only just come to. Thank the Gods.

Merlin decidedly places his hands in his lap.

“Sometimes.” Merlin answered. “I don’t think anyone else could tell. You just sort of start to murmur nothing to yourself, and you look…” Merlin trailed off. What is it that always alerts Merlin to Arthur’s distressed state? It’s a subtle change, and yet Merlin can always pick it up. “I dunno. Lost.”

“Am I getting any better? Will this ever end?” Merlin blinked, surprised at the rawness of the question, of the scared look in Arthur’s eyes. Merlin hadn’t really thought of it from Arthur’s perspective. How awful it must be to constantly fight a losing battle to sleep, coming into consciousness for only a few minutes at a time.

“Yes, yes. Soon.” Merlin said firmly. “You’ll be just fine.”

“Sorry.” Arthur whispered in return.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve gone with you.” Merlin admitted finally. While Gwen has tried on many occasions to convince Merlin that this was not his fault, the only forgiveness Merlin could truly accept would be Arthur’s. But Arthur doesn’t know why Merlin having been there would have made a difference, and Merlin can’t explain it, and the plea for forgiveness dies on Merlin’s lips.

“What could you have done?” Arthur answered, just as Merlin thought he would. “I had my best knights with me, and none of us saw the arrow coming. Even if you’d been there, I still would’ve taken the hit.” Merlin can’t look up. Arthur reaches, so that his hand covers Merlin’s. Merlin finally looks up at him. “I’m glad you were here, safe. Wouldn’t want you doing anything stupid to cover my royal arse.”

Merlin can’t help but chuckle at this, because of course that’s his whole job. Doing stupid things to cover Arthur’s royal arse.

Arthur hasn’t even started falling asleep yet, but Merlin already misses him. Arthur is Merlin’s favorite everything.

“How is everyone in the castle?” Arthur asked abruptly, and Merlin realized he’d been staring too long.

Merlin does his best to recite everything that had been happening in the castle, even though he’d mostly been in the forest with Morgana.

He knew Arthur would want updates on his knights, and training, and the Council, and Morgana. When he’s finished, however, Arthur seems discontent and gives a sigh.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Merlin defended with a smile. Arthur seems to think for a moment, his eyes blinking more slowly than they would have two weeks ago.

“I want you to pet my hair and tell me stories.” Arthur answers eventually, voice quiet. Merlin tries not to look surprised, and does as he’s told.

He’s relieved that Arthur enjoys having his hair played with as much as Merlin enjoys playing with it.

Merlin doesn’t say it, but the story he tells is one his mother used to tell to him, when he was sick. It’s something about a beast and a mouse, and something about heart and kindness.

A mouse enters a cave, and there lives a beast. The beast should want to eat the mouse, but the beast doesn’t. The longer the beast ignores the mouse, the hungrier the beast becomes. Still, the beast refuses. Then the mouse begins to bring food to the beast, and in turn the beast provides shelter, and they become unlikely friends.

As a child, Merlin had always wondered why the beast had not eaten the mouse. If he had the power, why not use it? He had also always wondered why the mouse had kept coming back. Why doesn’t he just run? Why had the mouse been so courageous?

Merlin doesn’t stop telling stories until he is sure that Arthur is asleep. He gets up slowly, putting Arthur’s hair into place one last time before moving away, quietly returning home as the rest of the castle joins Arthur in his slumber.

When Merlin returns the following day, Arthur is, unsurprisingly, asleep. Merlin places his breakfast tray on the desk, and moves to open the curtains. With a sigh, he reminds himself to move the tray to the bedside table, so that Arthur could reach it from bed. Just as he moves to do this, he sees Arthur whip upright in bed.

He doesn’t even have time to react before Arthur is shifting his legs onto the floor.

“No, no, no, Arthur,” He calls out, racing to Arthur’s side. Arthur shakes his head and seems to be trying to get up onto his feet. “Arthur, no, you need rest—” Arthur stands up.

As predicted, Arthur basically folds in on himself when he does, his legs too weak and shaky to hold him. Merlin catches him quickly, one hand wrapping around his waist and the other on his shoulder.

“Arthur, please, let’s sit you back down.” Merlin said. Arthur ignored him, and Merlin watched him as he attempted to walk to his desk for breakfast.

“No,” Arthur answered breathily, “No more bed.” Merlin half-carried Arthur over to his desk as Arthur ranted about how men must be strong or whatever backwards thinking had made him get out of bed early.

Merlin tried to make sure Arthur’s descent into the chair was easy, but Arthur’s heavy body made his flailing impossible to avoid.

“See?” Arthur said, still trying to catch his breath, “Told you.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, but seeing Arthur sitting at his desk, alive, rushed color back into Merlin’s blood. He hadn’t known he’d been frozen in black and white, until now.

“Such a prat.”

Arthur smiled, and then, as if trying to make Merlin’s heart stop from worry, said:

“So? Aren’t you going to inform me of my schedule for the day?”

“Schedule!” Merlin scoffed unbelievingly. “Sure, I’ll tell you your schedule. Get back into that bed and rest, clotpole!”

“No, no, no more resting,” Arthur whined, “It’s time for me to be better.”

“You’re not going to be all better overnight!” Merlin exclaimed, exasperated.

“It’s certainly been more than a night.” Arthur replied with a pout.

“Arthur—”

“No, I’ll at least go to Council, surely.” Arthur cut him off.

“Ha!” Merlin scoffed again, “You can talk to your pillows, if you’re that bored.”

“Merlin.” Arthur begged. “I have to get out of that bed. I can’t stand it anymore.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, really looked at him. He did look better. And his words the previous night had felt so hopeless and hollow, as if Arthur was beginning to believe he’d never escape the bed.

“Fine, fine. But nothing strenuous. And I’ll be there the whole time. And I’ll fetch you a walking stick. And if I say you look too pale, you’re going back to bed.” Merlin ordered. Arthur nodded, seeming relieved.

“Deal.”

Merlin left Arthur to eat breakfast and nervously went to collect Arthur’s cane, which was waiting with Gaius. The cane he’d made. Suddenly he isn’t sure Arthur would like it.

When he handed Arthur the cane, he inspected it closely. Merlin felt nervous for some reason, suddenly wishing he’d just grabbed a normal walking stick from Gaius’ spares.

“Where did you get this?” Arthur whispered.

“Oh, I dunno,” Merlin said, nervous, “Just something Gaius had lying around.”

Merlin helped Arthur up, who seemed a little too keen on testing it.

“Did you steal it?” Arthur teased. Merlin scoffed.

“I would never!”

Arthur sat back down, satisfied with Merlin’s answer, and Merlin watched as he set the cane gently against the desk. Merlin excused himself to fetch Arthur water for his bath.

“You’re trying to get me to go to sleep again by having me bathe!” Arthur accused, upon his return.

“I’m trying to get the stink of pigs off you. I’ll let you walk around the castle, but not smelling like that.” Merlin defended, quietly casting a spell to make the water Arthur’s preferred temperature.

Merlin dances about the room, pretending to do chores. Really he’s near-constantly glancing at Arthur, as if he were made of glass.

Eventually Arthur finishes half his meal, and claims he’s full. This makes sense. He hasn’t had more than a few solid foods in the past twenty days. Merlin tries to help him to the bath, but Arthur shoos him. This leads to Merlin standing behind him, awkwardly air-hugging him, so that if he were to fall, Merlin could catch him. He doesn’t fall, though. Arthur makes it to the tub all by himself, and wears a proud look from it. When he’s in the bath, Merlin tries to wash his hair, but Arthur refuses that too. Merlin doesn’t know if this means he’d only asked for Merlin to pet his hair last night because he’d been so drowsy, or if it means that he’s just trying to do everything on his own. Either way, Merlin steps back.

He convinces Arthur to let Merlin help him out of the bath, then re-bandages him and helps him change. Merlin can’t ignore the pained look on Arthur’s face by the time these tasks are done, and forces him to sit down for a while.

Eventually Arthur looks fitedgy, and Merlin relents, allowing him to stand up again as they begin their walk. Merlin has half a mind to put a hand on Arthur’s back to steady him as they walk, but knows this is something Arthur wants to do on his own.

As they leave his chambers, Merlin picks up on the surprised look of the guards outside Arthur’s door. These are Arthur’s daytime guards, and a different pair switch out at night. Gwaine calls them Benny and Walter, and they seem nice enough. Always jovial, and good-natured to Merlin.

“Good morning, Sire!” Benny greeted, a huge smile on his face. Merlin catches the way Arthur lights up at it.

“Good morning, Sir Benjamin. Don’t let Merlin know, I’m finally escaping!” Arthur joked in return, obviously putting the guards at ease. They laughed, and Merlin gave a dramatic and fond eye roll.

“Won’t tell a soul!” Walter answered.

After they’d passed the guards, Merlin turned to his friend.

“Where are we even going, Arthur?”

“We are going out to the field!” This worried Merlin. Arthur was not going anywhere near training. Swords are heavy, and Arthur can barely stand as it is. Arthur seems to sense Merlin’s hesitation. “I want to cheer Leon on as he trains today.” Merlin pursed his lips but allowed it.

As Merlin had told Arthur last night, Leon had taken charge of training the knights in Arthur’s absence. He’d been doing a great job. But then, he’d always been good at things like that.

Before they’d even reached the field, Gwaine began rushing toward them, causing quite a stir.

“You’re alive!” He bellowed happily. Merlin and Gwaine hadn’t seen each other much in Arthur’s absence. Merlin reminds himself to take Gwaine out for a drink later, now that Arthur is finally up and about.

Nearly all of the remaining knights followed suit, circling around Arthur to see with their own eyes that their Prince was all right.

“Careful, careful, he’s still healing.” Merlin said, and almost everyone took a big step back. Leon, Percy, and Gwaine all remained, which is fine. Gwaine’s pat to Arthur's shoulder was considerate and careful, just as the other two were.

“Thought we’d lost you for sure.” Said Percy.

“He’s a fighter, this one.” Added Leon.

Almost all of the remaining knights chimed in with something similar. This is not surprising.

Merlin has always thought Arthur will one day be a great King. But he is not the only one to think so. The townspeople treasure Arthur–He hadn’t been lying about the bouquets–and the knights respect and believe in him. Not just Gwaine, or Percy, or Leon. But the others too. Even the ones Merlin doesn’t know the names of, even the ones guarding Arthur’s chambers, even the ones who switch out patrol…Arthur knows all of their names, and they all admire him in return.

There’s just something about the way Arthur holds himself. Something about the way he remembers the details of each person in his Kingdom, the way he tries to help those in need. Everyone sees it, and everyone worships him for it.

He’ll be a great King, they say, better than Uther.

Merlin wholeheartedly agrees.

The knights continued catching up with their Prince, but somewhere in their conversation Merlin noticed the glance Arthur subtly shot his way. It was time to take their leave.

“Alright, enough chit-chat. Back to training! Arthur’s got other duties today.” Merlin said coolly. Everyone dispersed. Gwaine gave Arthur one more pat to the shoulder, and hugged Merlin.

“Drinks tonight?” Merlin asked his friend. Gwaine gave a surprised smile when he pulled back, and a nod.

“If you’re buying!” He laughed.

Merlin helped Arthur back inside, and onto a bench as soon as they were out of sight from the other knights. He’s still healing, which is perfectly understandable, but Merlin knows Arthur doesn’t want to appear weak.

“Alright, let’s get you back to bed.” Merlin said.

“No, no. Please, I’m really feeling very well. I just need a bit of rest here for a moment, and then we can walk some more.” Arthur begged. Merlin sighed in defeat.

“Fine, fine.”

Eventually Arthur looked a little less pale, and seemed ready to walk again, and Merlin helped him up.

“Where to next, you royal prat?”

“I want to go check on Morgana. I heard her, at my bedside. I don’t want her to worry anymore.” Arthur said. Merlin felt his heart stop.

“Heard her?” Merlin questioned, trying to sound casual, trying to sound less afraid than he felt suddenly. Had Arthur heard? Had Arthur heard his confessions of love and magic and lies?

“I was half-awake, most of the time. I heard most of the people who came to see me. Or, at least, bits and pieces of it.” Arthur answered. Merlin’s brows furrowed. No, he couldn’t have heard. Otherwise he would have said something this morning, or last night, or last week. Right?

“Oh.” Is all Merlin could manage. His tongue felt dry.

“Oh, don’t worry Merlin. I heard you—” Merlin tripped over his feet as they walked, “—shuffling around my room, coming up with things to do.” So he doesn’t know. “Just to bother me!” Arthur finished. He doesn’t know.

Why does Merlin feel so disappointed? He shakes it off with a scoff.

Everything will be alright.

“Psh! Gaius made me!” Merlin teased.

“Arthur?” Morgana appeared as they turned the corner, and Merlin could make out the tears finding their way into her eyes. She rushed toward him, only to stop.

Both parties seemed to freeze for a moment, Morgana clearly worried about hurting him. Eventually it was Arthur that reached out to her and pulled her into a sweet half-hug. Merlin adores the sibling relationship they seem to have. Especially now that he reached out to her, even though she has magic.

See? Everything will be alright.

“I’m so glad to see you’re alright.” Morgana smiled as they pulled away. Merlin reached to steady Arthur as he shifted his weight back to his cane. “I came to check on you a few times, but you just looked so ill…” Morgana trailed off.

“I’m fine, I promise.” Arthur said. This seemed to calm her. “Merlin’s been taking good care of me.”

“Oh, I bet.” Morgana teased, looking between them. Merlin scowled. Gwen’s teasing at his recent discovery came back to the forefront of his mind. He wondered if Gwen had been the one to tell Morgana, or if she’d figured it out on her own. Either way, her remark had him glancing at Arthur nervously, as if this was the moment he’d figure out the truth as well.

“Goodbye, Morgana!” Arthur said abruptly, leading Merlin away. Morgana laughed, until Arthur shouted behind him: “Tell Gwen I said hello!”

Her sudden silence made Merlin chuckle.

As they walked away, Merlin turned again to Arthur.

“Please, can’t I get you back into bed? You’ve done plenty.” He begged. Arthur looked hesitant. “Please?”

Arthur sighed, and nodded, and Merlin celebrated quietly. Arthur just seems so fragile, and Merlin doesn’t want to push him, worried he may break.

Merlin helps him strip to his underclothes, and puts his hair into place. He pulls up the blankets to Arthur, making sure he would be warm enough, even though the air was already plenty warm. Arthur looked much less pale lying down.

“Will you wake me for dinner?” Arthur asked, just as Merlin was about to turn away. “Please?”

Merlin doesn’t want to. If he wakes Arthur for dinner, Arthur will want to go! But Arthur’s pleading face reminds Merlin that he really is just trying to get better. And dinner consists of mostly sitting down anyway.

Merlin nods, and Arthur smiles softly.

He falls asleep almost immediately. Merlin almost goes to say his usual ‘Goodnight, darling’, but he bites his tongue, swallowing the words.

Instead he slips out of the room, finding himself alone for the day.

Merlin goes first to find Gaius, to report Arthur’s updated condition. Gaius looks relieved.

“The worst of it is behind him.” He says. “There is only healing to deal with now.”

He was the one to report to the King of Arthur’s well-being. Merlin told Gaius to inform Uther than Arthur would be joining him at dinner.

Merlin spends the rest of his day with Gwen and Morgana, all of whom are clearly in the best of spirits.

Gwen had been saying Arthur would be alright for ages. Merlin had believed it for a week. But Arthur got out of bed today, he went about the castle! He will be alright.

And so the three of them celebrate, snacking on bread and helping Gwen with her chores.

In fact, the whole castle seems to return to bright life, the kitchen preparing a special feast of Arthur’s favorite foods after Merlin informs them Arthur will be dining with the others tonight. They buzz with excitement, and as Merlin leaves, he can hear them hoot and holler behind him.

Everyone really does love their Prince.

When the evening rolls around, Merlin begrudgingly goes to wake Arthur, as he promised he would. He would prefer to let Arthur sleep, having more than earned the rest, but if it’s something Arthur wants, Merlin must help. That’s his life’s work. Help Arthur.

“Morning, sunshine!” He calls out, somewhat sarcastically. Although Arthur really does remind Merlin of the sun.

There is a grumble from the bed as Arthur stirs.

“Time for dinner, as promised.” Merlin continues, opening the curtains he’d closed when he had put Arthur to bed. At this, Arthur seemed to startle. Even so, Merlin went beside him and pulled him up by the wrist—Lighter and more gentle than he used to.

“Merlin!” Arthur laughed as he accepted the help into sitting up.

“C’mon, prat, lots to do.”

Merlin guided Arthur back to a standing position. Arthur leans on the cane heavily, which makes Merlin wish he was safe, back in bed.

Merlin changes Arthur’s clothes and combs his hair. He fights the urge to comment on how soft it is. He dusts Arthur’s shoulders. He wants to give him a hug. He doesn’t.

Then they walk together to the dining hall, where the rest of the table has already gathered. Merlin wants to walk Arthur to the table, but he goes to stand with the other servants. Although his magic is at the ready should Arthur fall.

“Hey!” Gwen whispers, grabbing Merlin’s arm as he joins her side. “He’s really here!” Merlin beams back at her.

“My son.” Uther’s words boom out. Merlin feels a shiver of his magic crawling up his back. He really hates that man. Everytime he talks, Merlin wishes he wouldn’t. Even that. What should have been an endearment to Arthur sounded cold, practiced, calculated.

Arthur gently sits down, and Morgana turns her head slyly to face Merlin with a small smile. He returns it. It does feel nice, seeing Arthur here again.

The talk of the table resumes, and the mood feels lighthearted.

Until Uther opens his big mouth, that is.

“You did not come to see me, when you were certainly able to.” This is quieter than before, and Merlin barely catches Arthur’s response.

“Nor you, me.”

Merlin knows immediately what he means. It had been late one night, when Arthur had managed to drink broth in between moments of sleep.

“Has my father come to see me?” He’d asked. His voice was weak, but it was hopeful. Merlin hadn’t known what to say, because Uther had not even asked about Arthur’s health, let alone come into this room. By the time Merlin had looked up from the floorboards, ready to remind Arthur how often Morgana had come to see him, Arthur had fallen back asleep.

Merlin really hates Uther.

He especially hates the way Uther now looks almost offended by the truth that Arthur has spoken.

“It is your duty as Prince to report to your King, boy.” Uther said, louder now. At least half the table had gone quiet. Merlin longed to see Arthur’s face, but his back was to Merlin.

“And it is your duty as Father to care for your Son, and yet here we are.” Arthur spat. Merlin nearly jumped. He’d known Arthur had been disappointed with his father not coming to see him, and angry with the massacre of the druids, but this…Arthur never spoke to Uther this way. Never.

“Take care in how you speak!” Uther pushed on the table as he stood up, shouting louder than he should at a man not more than three feet from him. Merlin couldn’t help noticing the dog-like slobber at the corners of Uther’s mouth.

“Care?!”

Arthur surprised Merlin, and probably everyone, by standing up himself. He was a little hunched, having to lean so much on the cane, but this was unprecedented.

“Is that the word you truly wish to use? You dare to sit there and preach to me about CARE?!” Arthur’s voice sounded so full of rage, it was a voice Merlin had rarely heard, if ever at all. It is only because Merlin knows him so well that he could make out the twinge of sadness underneath. Uther seemed to relax at this.

Then he raised his hand up.

And slapped Arthur across the face.

Merlin heard himself gasp and started forward, but Gwen tightened her grip on him and pulled him back.

“Don’t.” She whispered. Merlin tried to swallow his anger, but found he couldn’t stomach it. He could feel it, his magic rising up, reaching out to protect his Arthur—

Is he alright? Merlin messaged Morgana, desperate, glad he’d taught her how.

I…I don’t know. I…I’m not sure. She messaged back.

Arthur seemed to answer this all on his own.

“You’d strike a wounded man? I suppose I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am.” His words are eerily calm. It makes Merlin proud, and terribly terribly sad. He can feel it from here; whatever was left of Arthur’s youth, of his childish hope for a father’s love, has left him. Merlin tries again to step forward, to comfort Arthur, to kill Uther, but Gwen again stops him, pulling him back to her.

“You should take your leave, Arthur. Clearly the fever has more control than you tonight.” Uther’s face was beet red, and his words were far shakier than his son’s. Merlin’s gaze lands on Leon, who is looking between the King and Merlin with a growing look of concern. When he sees he has caught Merlin’s eye, his brows shoot up, as if to ask, what should we do?

Merlin doesn’t know what to do. He considers dropping the chandelier on Uther’s head. He wonders if people would call it an accident, or if he’d be found out. Gwen tightens her grip on his arm.

And then Arthur sits down.

He sits down, and he grabs a roll, and he turns away from his father.

He turns away from his King, and he asks his sister about her day.

It’s only when Arthur turns toward Morgana that Merlin can finally make out his face. It’s not red, it doesn’t look like he’s fighting off tears. He just looks tired. Merlin wishes he could go and give him a hug.

Is he alright? He asks again.

He seems alright. She says, I’m proud of him.

Me too.

Arthur’s gaze finds Merlin’s once, and Merlin freezes. Arthur shrugs, which brings Merlin back to reality. He gives an awkward smile and a hidden thumbs-up. Arthur’s smile, which had been tight and closed off, seemed to relax.

The table’s chatter is quieter after the outburst, each person worried they might set Uther off again. Leon glares at his plate and Merlin has a feeling that Leon wishes he could be openly glaring at the King.

After the feast ends, Merlin has to help pick up dinner, and Arthur doesn’t wait for him.

However, when Merlin is done, and returns to Arthur’s chambers, he finds that Arthur is not there.

“Arthur?” He calls out around the room, then again in the hallway.

He wanders around until he hears the murmurs coming from the throne room. He ducks in the hallway, unable to be seen from the room.

“—A coward and a fool, but never thought you foolish enough to defy me like that.” Uther. He must be grilling Arthur about what happened at dinner. “I will allow this to pass, as you are still ill. If it happens again, you’ll find yourself in the dungeons.” Merlin nearly growls.

He remembers Gwen’s stories of Morgana in the dungeons. Her bloodied back, the marks from the cuffs on her wrists…That will never happen to either of them while Merlin lives in Camelot. It is forbidden.

Merlin slides into another hallway just as Arthur rounds the corner. He waits a while in an attempt to calm himself, then goes to join Arthur in his quarters.

“Where have you been?” Arthur asked snarkily when Merlin walked in. Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur sat atop his bed, teasing Merlin about how he’s late to everything. Merlin walked straight toward him. Arthur stopped teasing when he saw the serious look on Merlin’s face.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked.

“What?”

“With everything that happened tonight, I…” Merlin took a breath. “I’m sorry your father didn’t come to see you. He should have.”

Arthur looks down at his lap.

Merlin wishes there was something he could do to help. He feels like driftwood on a river, unable to do anything at all.

“I’ll be alright. Thanks Merlin. Help me change, will you?”

Merlin recognizes this as a command and does as he’s told. He changes Arthur as quickly as Arthur can handle, knowing he will probably want to be alone. Knowing he will probably want to cry, alone.

When he’s done, as predicted, Arthur dismisses him. Merlin almost goes to give him a hug, but pulls back. Merlin hates that he knows about his own love for Arthur. It makes him second-guess things that had once come naturally to them.

On Merlin’s way out of the castle, he passes Morgana on her way to see Arthur.

“How is he?” She asked. Merlin shrugged.

“He won’t talk to me about it. I heard Uthur yelling at him though.” Morgana nodded, and went for Arthur’s door.

Merlin went to the tavern.

When he arrived, Gwaine scooped him into a big hug.

“Longest day in the world.” Merlin said as he sat down.

“I’ll toast to that.” Gwaine answered cheekily, pushing one of the ales on the table toward Merlin. Merlin smiled in thanks. “How’ve you been, my friend?”

They had not caught up since Arthur’s half-dead return to Camelot. A lot has happened since then.

“I’m alright. How have you been?” Merlin answered, taking a sip of his ale. Gwaine tells him of training with Leon, and a pretty bar-maiden who is unfortunately not working tonight, and how worried he’d been for Arthur. He mentions tonight’s dinner from Leon’s perspective. How all of Arthur’s knights stand with him.

“How’ve you been, really?” Gwaine said, after he’d answered all of Merlin’s questions about the girl and training and the knights.

Merlin shrugs.

“Overwhelmed, I suppose. I’m glad Arthur is alright.”

“Oh, I knew he was gonna be, with you looking after him and all.”

“Gwaine!” Merlin half-yelled, half-whispered, glancing around the bar despite the small corner they were in, tucked away from everyone else. Merlin leaned toward the middle of the table.

“Didn’t even say anything!” Gwaine defended quietly, leaning in too, and continued his whisper. “Do you know about a certain someone else that has, ya know? Figured it out on my own, too, but I’m not telling you unless you already know.”

“What?!” Merlin whispered. How did Gwaine know about Morgana’s magic? Then again, he’d figured out Merlin’s magic. “You are the one who told Gwen about me! And I know I said I forgave you for it, but I was lying, so you have to tell me as punishment.” Merlin said. Their voices are so quiet now that no-one but them could hear the conversation. Gwaine rolled his eyes.

“Morgana. Has to be. Arthur is a terrible liar.”

Merlin leaned back, and they resumed their normal voices.

“Ugh. I already knew about that. Thought maybe you’d had someone new.” Merlin said, glad he could have someone to talk about the Morgana-has-magic-and-Arthur’s-upset-but-not-really situation with.

“How’d you already know?” Gwaine asked, exasperated. For a second, Merlin wants to act sarcastic and funny, and lean back and cross his arms and say, because I know everything.

Instead, he finds himself burying his face in his hands, because he’s keeping more secrets from more people than he’s ever had to and as much as he keeps convincing himself that it’ll be alright…everything will be alright…it won’t.

It’s not alright. Nothing’s alright. But he has to pretend like he’s alright because if he doesn’t then everyone falls apart.

Merlin doesn’t cry, but he does wipe the dust from eyes, staring down at the table.

“I thought, for a moment, that I could…tell him.” He said eventually, looking up to a confused Gwaine.

“Merlin, he supports it! You could!” Merlin shakes his head.

“I can’t. Ever.”

“What? Why?”

“Morgana beat me to it.” Merlin answered with a sigh. “You should’ve seen it. She’d only known for a few months, and he was heartbroken over it. The lying and all. Imagine how he’d feel if he knew about the lying I’ve been doing all these years.”

“It won’t be so bad.” Gwaine tried to console him. Merlin shook his head.

“Since the day we met. How could I ever go about undoing it? How could I ever hope for him to trust me again?”

“Everything you’ve done was for his good,” Gwaine said harshly, “You are not some villain, Merlin. Don’t let him make you one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, maybe put yourself first for once! I know you…care for him, and all—”

“Yes, it seems I’ve been in love with him and no-one’s told me.” Merlin admitted. Gwaine chuckled.

“Finally figured it out, did ya?”

Merlin rolls his eyes.

“What do I do?”

Gwaine leaned back.

“I keep moving to hug him, or touch him, the way I used to, except now I know why I’m doing it, and I can’t have intentions like that.” Merlin went on. “What would you do?”

Gwaine seems to think for a while. Merlin gets antsy.

“Are you really so afraid of hurting him? Or are you afraid of him hurting you?” Gwaine asks wisely.

“Hurting him is pretty much the only thing I’m afraid of, these days.” Merlin answers, taking another sip of his ale.

“He’d forgive you, if you explained it all to him.”

“And what about my…my…” Merlin trailed off. Took another sip of ale. “It’s evil, Gwaine. It’s always…lurking.”

“That’s not true, Merlin.”

Merlin has had this debate with Gwaine before. Sometimes he thinks the only reason Gwaine is friends with him is because he doesn’t understand the danger that is Merlin. After all, he certainly doesn’t look dangerous. But he is.

Merlin can feel it.

It’s darkness, and it’s crawling on his back.

That’s why he must pull back when he reaches for Arthur. All that sunlight? Merlin would only taint him.

“You don’t know, Gwaine! It’s,” Merlin quiets his voice, “It’s immoral. I am a walking sin waiting to happen.” Gwaine is already shaking his head before Merlin has even finished talking.

“That’s not true! You are kind! You are inherently good. I’ve seen it. You always save others over yourself. You’ve the heart of a knight, my friend.”

Merlin shakes his head. No-one else can ever understand. No-one else can feel it, the way he can. The wickedness, the corruption. It’s always there. Always waiting. It’s eating away at him.

“So, what? You’ll never tell him? Any of it?” Gwaine asked. Merlin sighed, exhausted.

“How could I? It’s all lies, all of it. He’d be heartbroken. He might forgive me, but he’d never look at me the same.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m drowning in it, Gwaine! I have a secret, can’t tell Arthur, but everyone else knows. I have a secret that I just found out was a secret, can’t tell Arthur, but everyone else knows. I have a secret from Arthur, can’t tell Morgana or Gwen. I have a secret from Morgana, can’t tell anyone but Arthur and Gwen. And you, weirdly enough. I have more secrets, too, even ones I keep from you. You only know about the good parts. But I’ve made mistakes, Gwaine. And if you knew them, you wouldn’t forgive me either.” Merlin’s whisper is harsh and it sounds like one of the rants he makes when Gaius and Arthur have been running him too much.

“We’ve all made mistakes, Merlin.” Gwaine says gently. “And you wouldn’t have so many secrets if you started telling people about them.”

“In this city? You want me dead after all, huh?” Merlin teased, trying to lighten the mood from his complaints.

“You know what I mean.” Gwaine laughed, but it felt forced.

Both men took long drinks of their ale.

After a while, Gwaine spoke up, eyes fixed on the table.

“So there’s nothing I can do to change your mind? You are going to lie about it all, forever?”

Merlin shrugged.

“Then, do me a favor.” Gwaine’s eyes are still downcast. “Don’t lead him on. Don’t hug him and touch him and keep on half-lying. You’ll just hurt him. He deserves the truth, the whole truth. And until you can give him that, you won’t be doing anything but making it worse for when he finds out. Because Merlin,” Gwaine leans forward, looking almost angry, “He will find out. And that will hurt him far more than whatever you’ve conjured in your head.”

Gwaine finishes his ale and slams coins on the table.

“On me, old friend.” He says, then walks out.

Merlin sits at that table, in the corner of the bar, for a very long time.

Sipping away at his ale.

He’s always waiting for something, it seems.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

He doesn’t know what for.

Chapter Text

Merlin spends the following week more numb than he had been when Arthur was dead-asleep. At least then, Merlin could convince himself that it would be alright. But now that Arthur is awake, Merlin has to make constant, conscious efforts to keep a distance from his own best friend.

Because Gwaine is right. Arthur is kind, and soft, and courageous. He is the sun itself. And if Merlin cannot give him everything…If Merlin cannot ever tell Arthur his secrets, then he’s no good for him.

He’s no good.

Arthur has noticed, no doubt in that at all. He flinches when Merlin backs away, glances at Merlin to see what’s wrong.

He’ll get over it eventually.

Merlin though…He feels this loss deep within himself. His magic, the darkness and loneliness and emptiness of it, settles in his bones where Arthur’s smile used to be.

He walks to the castle, an idle heaviness on his shoulders that he can’t seem to shake. There’s an exhaustion to him now, as if he hadn’t slept. But Merlin had closed his eyes last night, and woken up this morning. He feels a little like a bird trapped in a cage. He can’t ever reach out to anyone, but he must remain here, in Camelot, to protect Arthur.

It seems Merlin is doomed to live a half-life forever. This is the best he can do.

Merlin stops by the kitchens to grab Arthur’s tray. He and Gwen are still on good terms, and he thanks her for Arthur’s schedule. Gwaine on the other hand, hasn’t spoken to him all week.

When Merlin enters Arthur’s room, he begins his normal greeting.

“Good mor—” He cuts himself off when he spots the empty bed.

Arthur sits at his desk, cane gently propped against the table on which he is writing busily.

“Oh. Good morning, Arthur.”

“Hello, Merlin.” Arthur greeted, his smile natural and lopsided, but tired-looking. Merlin can easily see the bags under his eyes. He can guess what’s causing them, but doesn’t know how to help.

“You’re up early, aren’t you?” Merlin said, walking to deliver Arthur’s tray to him. He forces himself away from Arthur, noticing the space between them. He notices always now.

“Things to do, you know. Busy, busy.” Arthur responds. Merlin goes to open the curtains, hesitating at the window. He looks down at the garden and tries to remind himself not to be so dramatic. His emotions are exhausting.

“What are you working on?” Merlin asked.

“A revised tax plan that my father will probably refuse.” Merlin heard Arthur sigh, “Would you take a look?”

This happens often between them, Arthur having Merlin review his documents and ideas. Merlin has never minded, often staying up into the night to help write his speeches. He always enjoyed those nights, looked forward to them even. Quiet laughter and chatter by the candlelight, Arthur’s golden glow in the alit by the fire…

Merlin must have been really stupid to not have realized how deeply in love with Arthur he is. And was. And will always be.

“You’re trying to lower the taxes of the farmers?” Merlin asked after he’d finished reading the plan. Arthur’s kindness. He’s kind, kind, kind. It makes Merlin’s stiff stance soften. He can’t help it. This is just the sort of thing that makes Arthur so unbelievably good.

“The winter hit them with more force than in previous years.” Arthur responded intently. “They are struggling to get through the seasons. It will be no good for anyone if they do not have the money and supplies they need to get through this years’ harvest.”

Merlin really can’t help but stare at Arthur for a moment, mesmerized by his compassion. How did he manage to have such a warm, good heart, when Uther is the one that raised him? Once, in one of those nights under the firelight, Arthur had talked quietly of parts of his childhood. His father’s use of his backhand when Arthur spoke out of turn. Even the other night, at a hint of insubordination...How had Morgana and Arthur grown to be so merciful, when Uther had shown them nothing but cruelty?

When Merlin finally blinks, he realizes the way he’s automatically gravitated toward Arthur, the way he used to. He makes himself look away from him, and his stupid lopsided smile, and steps back again.

“It’s well put, and clearly and cleverly thought-out.” Merlin said formally. “I think if Uther were a smarter man, he’d know to implore it immediately.” Uther wouldn’t, though. Uther shows the same care to his townspeople as he does his son and his ward. That is to say, he shows them none.

Merlin has to stretch his arm out to put the paper back on the corner of the desk, and even then steps away to go and begin on his chores.

“Thank you.” Arthur answered.
Merlin went for Arthur’s bathwater, and took longer than he should to return.

Being around Arthur is hard, when he can’t look at him or go near him or talk with him properly. But how can he, when in the end all Merlin could do is hurt Arthur?

Even so, putting some distance between them really shouldn’t be this difficult.

When he finally returns, he helps Arthur into the bath. Then he helps dress him.

It’s a little hard to breathe because Merlin had already promised himself last night what he would stop doing.

Today, for the first time in what must be years, Merlin does not brush the imaginary dust off of Arthur’s shoulders. There’s something about this, more than anything else, that hits a note of finality. Arthur is still here, right in front of him, but he might as well be on the other side of Camelot. The distance between them is palpable, and suddenly Merlin realizes there really is no going back. This will be their new normal. Merlin already hates it.

He doesn’t realize he’s glaring at the ground until Arthur speaks.

“Merlin? Is everything…Are you alright?” He asked slowly, gingerly, ever so carefully.

“Fine, yeah.” Merlin looked up as he responded, exhausted and upset and horribly, irretrievably alone.

“You can talk to me, you know.” Arthur said, taking a step forward. Merlin’s step backward was automatic, and the look of betrayal on Arthur’s face spoke volumes.

“No, I…” Merlin tried to answer. But what could he say? Nothing but another lie. There is nothing left but his lies and his darkness and Arthur’s sad, betrayed face. He walked forward, trying to fix the surprised, pained look that Arthur wears, and dusted his shoulders. But it felt different somehow. It felt like he hadn’t done it at all. “I’m fine. Just tired, is all.” Merlin said finally.

Just as Merlin was wishing he could be alone, Arthur seemed to read his mind.

“You can have the day off. If you’d like. It’s not like I’m exactly busy these days anyway.”

Merlin felt air return to his lungs for the first time all morning.

“Thank you, Arthur. I—” Merlin cut himself off. He sounded far too excited, but in all honesty, this is just too much. He hates it. “Thank you.” Merlin finished, more calmly. He left Arthur immediately, which made him feel awful. But anything is better than the silence that has begun to stretch its way between them, sitting uncomfortably where their conversations used to be.

Merlin should spend his day off helping Gaius. He knows this.

Instead, before he even really sees what he’s doing, he’s grabbing his horse from the stables, fitting it, and galloping out of Camelot.

It’s only when Merlin has left the gates that he takes a deep breath and really sees his location and surroundings.

“Oh, what’ve I done now?” Merlin whispers harshly to himself.

He should go back. Return the horse before anyone notices.

But he can’t. He just can’t. He needs a break.

He needs to get out of here.

So he rides.

Merlin hides often. Sneaks around casually. But he never runs, not when it means leaving Arthur behind. What does it mean that today, after all these years, he’s running away like a coward while his best friend is limping all alone? What does it mean that Merlin can feel nothing but relief with every inch he puts between himself and Camelot?

He feels his magic washing off of him in waves. Not that it’s leaving him, really. He’ll never be truly clean of it. Here, however, he risks letting it off its tight leash. Flowers grow tall from the ground or sprout on bushes or pop up on trees, leading a path of beauty dancing alongside the road. He lets his magic be as vibrant and loud as it begs to be in his ear. It zig-zags off of him, whistling notes from a tune he’s never heard, or shaking with what might’ve been laughter. Some trees droop from the weight of magic sitting on its branches. This is his magic when it’s not on a noose. Merlin doesn’t give it any energy, doesn’t perform any spells. He simply lets the never-ending buzzing inside of him out. It pours out of him, and he finds freedom in a way he’ll never be able to find near Arthur.

In Camelot, his magic wraps itself so tightly around Merlin that at times he can’t breathe. There is nowhere else for it to go. If it sprawls out even a bit, and someone catches it…

If Arthur catches it…

No, it must always stay with him, tucked under his shirt, choked in his throat. Merlin can never slip up, never let loose, never laugh too hard or drink too much, for fear that someone might realize what he truly is. Gwaine’s right though, one day Arthur will notice. It’s been years. Has enough time passed to stop worrying, or is he always just one day closer to the truth?

Arthur, in the abstract, is kind. Merlin could talk about this for hours. Could think about it for days, months, forever. Arthur just has that homely, golden sort of soul. The kind that others pick up on right away, and try their best to stay close to, for fear of never feeling such warmth again. Since the very first day, whether he admitted it or not, Merlin’s world has always been filled with Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.

The day may be blue, or gray, or raining. But the sun is always there. Arthur is the sun in Merlin’s sky.

Merlin’s brows furrow in frustration.

No, not the sun in his sky. That doesn’t make any sense. What a nonsensical analogy. Merlin wishes he were better with his words. With his thoughts.

With everything, really.

Merlin just wishes he were better.

As his thoughts darken, so too does his magic. There is only ever darkness, really. The flamboyance of earlier was only a small celebration of being let out. But the deep parts of Merlin’s magic, the parts that dig into his soul and his bones and his heart, those are the parts that seep out of him, even on a leash. Those are the parts he’s truly afraid of. Those are the parts that whisper kill Uther, run and hide, rage, rage, RAGE.

Life really would be so much simpler if Merlin were something else. Something more, maybe, or something less. He and Arthur would still have met, in the square. Someone else would have to be Arthur’s protector and have to spend years worried about secrets, but maybe Merlin would still have a place in Arthur’s life. Maybe not. But at least Merlin would be able to sleep better at night.

But then he thinks of Arthur’s stupid face. And his stupid bravery and his stupid laugh and his stupid soft hair and all of Merlin’s wishes for a different life crumbles, because what else is there?

What else is there, but this?

Merlin doesn’t really know what to call Arthur, when he thinks about it. “Best friend” no longer fits, considering the mess that has been this past week. “Prince” will never be right, for reasons Merlin doesn’t know how to explain. “Unrequited love” perhaps, although the realization of this is recent, and Merlin doesn’t really know what to do about it. There isn’t really a word for it.

Arthur is the thing Merlin can’t ever give up.

Is there a word for that?

Merlin rides further and further, watching the sun rise higher and higher into the sky. He doesn’t know how far he has come. He doesn’t know where he is going.

It’s at this point that Merlin tries to think of anything but Arthur, because Gwaine is right. Except there is nothing else.

What should he do? How can he protect Arthur without hurting him? What should he do?

Merlin wonders for a moment if he should maybe go to Ealdor for a while, and return home to his mother…

The thought snaps him so deeply that he stops the horse.

Leave Camelot?

When did this come about?

Is he really so unhappy now that he would leave Camelot?

He had thought the words ‘for a while’ but he’d been hoping for ‘forever.’

Does it matter so much what Gwaine says? Yes, Arthur will one day find out. Yes, it will kill him. Yes, he will be horribly betrayed and hurt and probably will never forgive Merlin. But for now he needs a protector, doesn’t he? Until the day that Arthur tells him to go, Merlin will never leave, and maybe not even then. So why not be here, and be here fully, while he can?

When Arthur finds out, it will kill them both.

And until then?

Merlin wants to talk to Gwaine, wants to explain that it doesn’t matter; whether Merlin leaves now or Arthur finds out later, there will be nothing left. Merlin wants to prolong that as much as possible.

He wonders if Gwaine will understand. He has to. Surely, he can understand the delicate balance that Merlin suffers, the tightrope he walks. In love but in friendship, with magic in Camelot, protecting the Prince he will one day lose.

There is no question left to ask. Merlin promises himself he will never cause that distraught look on Arthur’s face again. Not from stepping back. He’ll stay as close as Arthur will let him, for as long as he can. Gwaine will either forgive him or he won’t.

Merlin turns the horse around.

It’s time to return to Camelot. He guesses he’ll arrive by late afternoon. But he won’t arrive home until tomorrow morning, when he’s waking Arthur and opening his curtains and feeding him breakfast.

Merlin’s ride back is quicker by far. Maybe he hadn’t traveled very much, or maybe it was because he felt so much lighter. His magic still shivers and shrinks away when he passes the gates, tucking itself back under Merlin’s ribs, but this is to be expected. This is the sort of hiding that Merlin has been doing his whole life.

Chapter Text

Merlin puts the horse in the stables and waits for the sun to set to go find Gwaine. Once he explains, maybe everything will be okay.

He needs Arthur, and he thinks Arthur needs him, too. Even if it’s just for a little while longer. Even if it will never be enough.

Merlin checks the tavern, and alas, across the bar is Leon, Percy, and Gwaine, laughing together. Gwaine sees him first, and Merlin gives a soft wave and a raised brow, hoping to ask across the distance if it’s okay if he joins them.

Gwaine answers this by walking across the bar and enveloping Merlin in a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, it really wasn’t my place.” Gwaine said quietly. They pulled apart and Merlin wondered if Gwaine’s glassy eyes were a trick of the light.

“No, no, it’s alright.”

“It’s not—”

“It is! And I tried, I did. But I just think, whatever we have now, for as long as we can have it; That’s the best we can do.” Merlin said, then added: “The best I can do.”

Gwaine nods even though Merlin doubts he made any sense at all.

“So we’re alright, old friend?” Gwaine asked as they joined the others.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, good. The boys were so mad that I interfered—”

“You told them?!” Merlin exclaimed.

“Oh, you know we have no secrets!” Percy interrupted, catching the end of their conversation. Merlin smiled.

“How’s Arthur?” Leon asked. They often ask Merlin this, even before his injury. This would bother Merlin, if he didn’t enjoy talking about Arthur so much.

“He’s healing alright. We’ve been taking walks. He looks tired though. Always looking like he hasn’t slept.”

Gwaine chuckles at this.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“Well, have you seen yourself recently?” He answered, as if it had been obvious.

“I’ve been sleeping fine.” Merlin replied, more gruffly than he’d meant to.

“No-one’s attacking you,” Percy chimed in, “It’s just. These days you always look dead on your feet.” His voice was gentle. It’s strange for someone so large to have such a soft, gentle demeanor. But Percy has always been this way, it seems. He and Gwen both have this calming presence, as if they were holding a baby bird in their hands.

“Well, Arthur gave me the day off, so maybe I’ll finally get some rest!” Merlin jokes, which lightens the mood at the table drastically.

“Why’d he give you the day? Especially since we’ve got visitors tomorrow?”

The ‘visitors’ were the royals that had come from a neighboring village to celebrate the deaths of the druid camps. Which of course weren’t actually burned. Besides the first one, at least. But they don’t know that, and here they are to celebrate.

“I dunno, just asked if I wanted it. Said he wasn’t busy anyways.” Merlin replied casually. Each knight wears the same shocked expression.

“Why’d you want it?” Leon asked, looking genuinely confused.

“What?” Merlin said.

“Since when do you want a day off?” Percy chimed in.

Merlin glanced at Gwaine, who was staring guiltily at his drink.

“Just needed to think things over, I suppose. Like Gwaine was telling you lot.” Merlin said finally.

“Was it my fault?” Gwaine asked. “Is he angry with you because of me?”

“No, no, no, everything’s alright. And it’s not your fault if it wasn’t.” Merlin answered firmly. Gwaine was right to be worried for Arthur’s well-being. Caring about his friend, about his Prince, is not overstepping. “He just seemed so sad, I dunno. Just can’t do it.” Merlin doesn’t really even know what he’s saying, doesn’t know how to explain the importance of his fragile relationship with Arthur.

Merlin lowers his voice considerably.

“I don’t think anyone else shows him enough love, besides us. Not even Morgana. Which isn’t her fault, given the way she was raised.”

The knights look around the bar nervously.

“What do you mean?” Leon asked.

“I mean, we’re his closest friends in the world. I don’t think stepping back would ever be any good for him, because who else is going to take care of him? Certainly not,” Merlin looks around again, “Certainly not Uther. He’s the one who’s all but convinced Arthur he can’t rule.”

The knights all nod in agreement.

Anyone paying attention can see where Arthur’s insecurities stem from. Any self-loathing Arthur’s ever voiced aloud, Merlin had heard verbatim from Uther himself.

Merlin’s magic whispers a quiet, kill Uther in his ear, but he ignores it.

“That’s a fair point.” Gwaine said, “Can you believe it’s been years, and he only just began calling us by our first names?!”

The whole table breaks out in laughter. This is true. Up until the very last journey, before he’d been horribly injured, Arthur had always called the knights a ridiculously formal ‘Sir Knight’ or ‘Sir Gwaine.’ It was distressing, to say the least. After all this time, they’ve finally wormed their way into his heart and convinced Arthur that they are his friends. Not just his knights.

It takes a lot to convince Arthur he is loved.

The rest of the night is less intense, and soon the joint laughter from the little table in the corner of the bar is filling up the space. Merlin orders an ale of his own, and the four friends cheer and sip away and smile. Merlin smiles more than he has all week. But soon everything will be back to normal! And then he’ll be with Arthur, and they’ll both be smiling, like they used to.

Merlin goes to bed that night hopeful. Maybe he sleeps, but he wakes up just as tired as he always does. It’s lying with darkness and dreaming of nothing.

He eats a quick breakfast with Gaius and doesn’t mention the events of yesterday. Because if he did, Gaius would only chastise him for taking the day off, because something could’ve happened to Arthur, and chastise Merlin for not returning home to help in his free time. Since Merlin does not care to hear either of these things, he keeps his day off a secret.

Soon, Merlin is off to the kitchens to grab Arthur’s tray. Gwen isn't here yet, so he says hello to the cook.

"Morning!" He greeted. She passed him a well-made tray for Arthur and greeted him in return.

"You tell your Prince that plums are out of season, no matter how sweet he asks for 'em.

Merlin can't help but blush at this. He must have come down here yesterday morning, and since Merlin had been lying about the plums...

Gwen entered the kitchen, brows creased.

“Good morning, Gwen!” He called out, wrapping a friendly arm over her shoulders. She grabs his waist with urgency.

“Have you talked to Arthur yet this morning?” She asks quietly, but harshly.

“No, came to grab his breakfast first. Is he alright?” Merlin’s mind begins to race with concern. Imaginary Gaius’ scolding was right, Merlin should’ve been here!

“He is! Or, well, he should be. He’s supposed to talk to you about it.”

“Talk to me about what?” Merlin asked. Gwen glances around the busy kitchen nervously.

“It’s too crowded here. Go talk to him, he’s meant to explain it all anyway.”

“But he’s alright?” Merlin begs.

Gwen seems to calm down when she sees his worried face. She gives his cheek a gentle pat.

“Oh, yes, dear. Everything will be alright, I’m sure.”

Merlin nods and walks to Arthur’s room as quickly as he can, one hand gripping the tray, the other clutched in a nervous fist.

Merlin relaxes naturally as soon as he sees Arthur, awake and safe, sitting atop his bed.

His posture is oddly formal, sitting upright at the end of the bed, rather than on the side where he usually sleeps.

“Good morning, Sire!” Merlin greeted with a smile. Arthur smiled back, but Merlin had all his smiles memorized, and this one didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good morning, Merlin.” Merlin went to place the tray on the desk. “Feeling any better?”

“Loads.” Merlin answered honestly. His feet were steady on the ground, unlike the past month or two. He knew where he and Arthur stood, and he accepts his place. “I really needed the day. Thank you.” He went to open the curtains.

“Of course.” Arthur’s voice sounded a little rough, more gravelly than his usual freshly-woken tone.

Merlin meant to go about his chores, but when he turned to Arthur he saw he hadn’t moved at all. A perfect statue.

“You don’t want breakfast?”

Arthur blinked slowly, then finally replied, “The cane rolled under the bed.”

It’s only here that Merlin realizes how upset Arthur is. Merlin doesn’t really know what tips him off to it, but Arthur is having a bad morning. He just sounds sad.

Merlin taking the day off yesterday had really surprised the knights. Had it surprised Arthur as well? This last week had been off for the two of them, and Merlin wonders if Arthur thinks he’s upset with him.

“Oh!” He replied, his voice overdramatic, maybe a little too loud. But what can he do? He has to cheer Arthur up somehow. Merlin goes to the side of the bed and looks beneath it. “Well, how’d you get it under there?” He asked, teasing. Arthur gave no response. He finds the cane and reaches it, but some of the crystals have broken off. As quietly as he can manage, Merlin casts a repair spell, then stands to return it to Arthur.

“Thank you.” Arthur says, showing real emotion on his face for the first time all morning. The look of relief as he spots the cane warms Merlin for some reason, and he watches as Arthur examines it and holds it to his chest briefly.

Merlin makes himself turn away, because the sight of Arthur holding so gently to something Merlin had made him gives Merlin far too many emotions.

“So, Gwen said you’d fill me in on some plan?” Merlin asked, remembering the strange conversation with Gwen for the first time since he’d walked in.

Merlin was looking away from Arthur, so it might’ve been just where he’d been standing in the room, but Arthur’s voice sounded so quiet and hollow that he almost didn’t catch it.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a better one.”

“Well…Alright. Gwen sounded really worried, though.” Merlin turned around to face Arthur.

“It’s all okay.” Arthur responded, putting his cane to the floor and moving toward his breakfast for the first time.

“Alright…” Merlin trailed off. Arthur felt so fragile, and Merlin didn’t want to press him. “I’ll go fetch your bathwater then.”

When Merlin returns to see Arthur poking at his breakfast without really eating it, he makes up a story about how he’d fallen on the way down. This livens Arthur up for a moment, and he laughs.

“How could you do that?!” Arthur jokes. A natural smile falls onto his face and Merlin cheers inwardly.

“I blame you!” Merlin teased, “I’m used to carrying all your weight now, I’m off-balance without it!”

Arthur laughs and gets into the bath. Merlin wants to offer to wash his hair, and let Arthur relax, but he can’t think of a good enough reason. Oh, sorry, Arthur, you just seem so sad and your smile is the most important thing in the whole world, d’ya mind?

Yes, Merlin is sure that would go great.

Instead he settles for humming as he attends to his chores around the room, and as he helps Arthur out of the tub, he repeats a joke Gwaine had told the night before. Arthur laughs loudly for a moment, and then all the air in him seems to deflate.

“So you’re not even going to tell me what Morgana had said?” Merlin asked as he helped Arthur into his clothes. This is a bit trickier than it used to be, because Arthur sometimes has to lift the cane to readjust. He’s better at it today than he has been, though.

“No. I had time to think it all over last night, and I think my idea is better. Except for it to work, you’ll have to stay in the dark about the whole thing.” Arthur answered. Then, after a moment, “And stay clear of Gwen and Morgana, or it’ll look suspicious.”

Merlin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at this, but Arthur gave him an intense look and Merlin couldn’t help but agree. “Alright, alright, I promise.” He made a point of dusting Arthur’s shoulders, but Arthur didn’t seem to have any reaction to it.

“You look a little better, but still more tired than usual. What’s going on?” Arthur asked so casually and out of the blue that Merlin hadn’t been prepared for it.

Does everyone in Camelot think he looks tired? Why is he only just now hearing of this?

Merlin takes a step back, trying to come up with a clever response, because he can’t confess the real reason everything had been so awful.

“Oh, I’m fine really. Maybe your bad dreams have rubbed off on me!”

Merlin knows immediately this was the wrong thing to say because Arthur’s entire face goes completely pale. His eyes widen and he looks as if he is about to cry.

Merlin tries to take a gentle step towards Arthur, arms reaching out to him, as if he were about to scare him off.

“Arthur?” He said quietly, genuinely concerned for his friend. Arthur’s features seemed to tense up in the same way they do when he’s having a nightmare. “I was only joking, darling.”

The pet name slips out before Merlin can stop it. It was as if his tongue had been itching to spit it out, and here he was, calming a fully awake Arthur. Well, it’s all out now, isn’t it?

“Sorry, I…I don't know where that came from.” Merlin quickly tried to cover. What had he done? Arthur would hate him, surely.

It feels as though Merlin is watching from outside, waiting for Arthur to respond. It feels as though he’d always stuck waiting, waiting, waiting.

“You’ve called me that once before.” Arthur states. It has no emotion or sentiment to it, as if he were completely detached from the conversation. Merlin, on the other hand, feels as though he could collapse onto this floor any minute from fear and worry and embarrassment.

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

“Well. It’s…” Merlin tries to grasp at anything else. What possible defense could he have for this? “It’s something that I usually say to everyone.” He swallows but his mouth is dry. “Just ask Gwen. I call her that all the time. I just don’t say it with you, because you’re…” Merlin tries desperately to fix what has gone so wrong in this conversation. “… just Arthur. We’re barely even friends.”

What?!

What had he done?

Now Arthur would never believe him! They’re obviously the best of friends. He’s done for! Arthur knows for sure!

Arthur holds his spare hand to his stomach and looks as though he’s going to be sick.

“Leave me.” That same detached voice leaves Arthur’s mouth. But Merlin’s feet are glued to the floor. Is he losing his job over this?

Maybe he can convince Arthur it was just some fleeting crush, maybe there’s a way to salvage this friendship still…

Merlin takes a step forward, which only makes Arthur back up. He looks horrified. He won’t even go near Merlin now.

Merlin can feel his magic bubbling up, shrieking out around him. He clenches his hands trying to grasp it under control. How foolish he’d been! Arthur would never forgive him for any of it. The love, the magic, the lies. Arthur would come out the other side just fine and Merlin would be cracked and broken and never the same again.

“Get out, Merlin. I mean it.” Arthur warned him, voice and face matching like stone.

How can he be so detached, how can he care so little? Does Merlin really disgust him that much? One nickname and Arthur throws him aside like trash?

Merlin can’t breathe, and his magic is threatening to flare up again, and he really just wants to cry, so he follows Arthur’s orders and leaves.

One ‘darling’ and he’d completely lost Arthur forever.

As soon as he’s out of the room, he’s racing down the hall, but his magic is erupting along with his tears and he knows he won’t make it home in time. He slides himself into a small room. It’s used for spare things, and is so small it could only fit one other person inside. He slides down against the wall, pulling his knees up to him, trying to hold himself together.

He doesn’t cry out, but his magic certainly does. It bounces invisibly off the walls and hits him. Colorless bruises form as he allows his magic to punch and cut at him. It hurts, but at least he feels something. Anything at all. Is this all he is? Is this all he will ever be?

He is the Gods’ worst mistake. Protect Arthur?

What a fantastical lie he’d been fed, all those years ago. He was made all wrong, everything backwards and slanted and altogether too awful. How the Gods must hate him, to make him live this life.

Arthur’s response really had thrown Merlin. He hadn’t been prepared for his brashness, for his ability to make such a cold, snap decision. Arthur had always allowed so many exceptions, and maybe Merlin had convinced himself this would be another mistake overlooked.

Every time Merlin thinks he has a plan, or even a notion of how to live without living in pain, he gets pulled under icy water with a wake-up call.

Merlin doesn’t know how long he sits there, in that cupboard of a room.

He replays the morning in his head over and over and over again. What he could’ve done differently, what defense he should’ve had.

Somewhere along the line he daydreams about what might’ve happened if Arthur hadn’t been so accusatory and angry after he’d said the word. Maybe they would have still been friends. Merlin daydreams about a world in which Arthur loved him too, and everything would be alright.

Merlin hates the world he lives in now. He’ll be stuck here for always, remembering the days where they were still Arthur and Merlin.

It’s only when the door creaks open that Merlin startles. There is nowhere to hide. Whoever is opening the door will find him crumpled on the floor like an idiot.

“Merlin?” Merlin looks up at the familiar voice.

“Gwen?”

She looks like she’s about to laugh, until she sees the state of him.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. She steps into the closet, closing the door behind her, and sits across from Merlin. The space can barely fit them both, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I…told him how I felt, it was an accident, and he brushed me off, he…he told me to leave.” Merlin said. The words feel strange leaving his mouth, as if he hadn’t really accepted the truth of what had happened until now.

“What?” Gwen asked, as if confused.

“He told me to leave, and he’ll never forgive me now, and—”

“No, no, I heard you the first time. I just don’t understand.” Gwen interrupted.

“Me neither. I never thought he’d be so…so cold about it.” Merlin sniffled. He felt broken, but he hadn’t cried. It all still feels too shocking and surreal. He’s sure he’ll cry about it later.

“No, no, I mean, you told him you loved him and he turned you away?” She asked.

“Yes!” Merlin exclaimed, upset that she isn’t hugging him and lying to him about how everything will be alright yet. “Well, no. I accidentally called him ‘darling’ and then I tried to backtrack it but he could tell, and then he told me to leave.”

“Awe, that’s cute! I didn’t know you called him that.” Gwen said, as if that would help anything at all.

“Gwen!”

“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just.” She sighs. “Look, Merlin. He’s madly in love with you. He has been since the day you two met. It’s ridiculous how long all this is taking, really. I don’t know what he thought you said, or maybe he’s just so upset about the plan for tonight, or maybe he thought you were teasing him. But I promise with all of my heart, that boy loves you.” Merlin is so taken aback by this that for a second he forgets how to do anything but breathe.

“Really?” Merlin hears himself asking, quietly, as if he were a child. Gwen reaches forward and lightly slaps the top of Merlin’s head.

“Yes! You are both such idiots about it!”

Merlin’s hands tingle as feeling returns to his numb fingers.

“Really, really? Or is this just a guess you have?” Merlin presses, because of course he can’t help it.

“This isn’t a guess, Merlin. It’s the most obvious thing in the world. And whenever Morgana teases him about it he turns into a blushing, stammering mess.”

Merlin remembers the other day, when Morgana had joked about what good care Merlin had been taking of Arthur, and the way Arthur had turned away immediately…

Merlin’s head begins to spin. He feels like he’d collapsed in on himself, seeing moments of their past over and over again, trying to make sense of this new angle.

Arthur noticing when he’s tired, or offering the day off, or cheering him up when he’s down. Letting Merlin ride beside him on journeys when he should be in the back. Those nights when they stay up too late, those mornings when Merlin can’t stop touching Arthur’s hair and the way he never seems to mind. Merlin can’t help but compare this to the delighted face Arthur makes when he sees a plum, or the way he’d cradled the cane this morning. Are those not parts of Merlin, too? Pieces of him that Arthur inherently seems to care for?

Merlin releases a deep, shaky breath.

This, however improbable it seems, makes more sense to Merlin than the impossible reality of Arthur hating him for something so out of his control. Arthur not loving him back, he’d expected. Arthur stepping back in horror and forcing Merlin to leave? Impossible. Arthur is, above all else, kind.

Merlin stands, brushes himself off, and then helps Gwen to her feet. When they exit the tiny supply room, Merlin notices immediately how dark it is.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Almost time for dinner.” She said, looking at him curiously. “How long have you been in there?”

“This morning.” Merlin answered. Gwen gave a sympathetic look. “I have to talk to Arthur.” Gwen nods at this and wishes him luck, reaching to grab whatever she’d actually gone to the closet for.

He sprints off towards Arthur’s room, but stops short at the door.

What if Gwen was wrong?

No, he can do this.

Even as he thinks that, Merlin is walking away from the door.

He can do this!

Merlin compromises. After dinner, he’ll say what he needs to say. It can’t get any worse, can it?

He goes to join Gwen in the great hall, where the feast with the visiting royalty is being held. He shakes his head at her raised eyebrows.

“Couldn’t do it. Got nervous.”

“He was probably just really worried about the premonition, Merlin. I’m sure you two will work it out.” Gwen says gently, and this cuts through Merlin’s complicated thoughts.

“Premonition? What premonition?” Merlin asked, a scary realization crawling up his back.

“That’s why you arrived without him, right? He’s with Gaius?” Gwen asked slowly, but Merlin could make out the fear creeping into the edges of her voice.

“I didn’t go into his room. Why would he be with Gaius, Gwen?” Gwen’s eyes go wide. “Gwen,” Merlin says again, much harsher, “Why would he be with Gaius?” She shakes her head and nods toward Morgana.

Is Arthur supposed to be with Gaius? Merlin asked. Morgana’s head whips toward him.

Is he not with Gaius? Why are you here without him, then?

Why is he supposed to be with Gaius? What premonition?

He didn’t tell you?

Merlin shakes his head slightly, and Morgana nearly gasps. That’s when she finally fills Merlin in on everything he’d missed yesterday.

Apparently, Morgana had had a premonition of Arthur the night before last. She’d seen him choking to death here, in the great hall. She’d told him the following day, yesterday, and together they’d decided the best way to stop the premonition was for Arthur to avoid the great hall altogether. Uther would never allow Arthur to miss such an important dinner, so he was supposed to pretend to fall down the stairs, and Merlin was meant to take him to Gaius’.

Why had he not told Merlin any of this?

“I’ve got a better one,” He’d said. “I had time to think it over last night.”

Merlin had completely missed it, overlooked it. But Arthur had been cold and hollow before he’d even walked in, hadn’t he?

Something must’ve happened last night. Maybe Uther yelled at him, or perhaps a particularly bad nightmare, or maybe he’d just decided.

But Arthur had not told him for one reason. He was planning to come to this dinner. He was planning to die.

Just as Merlin had come to this conclusion, Arthur made his grand entrance.

“What are we going to do?” Gwen asked. Merlin shook his head. He’d never felt so many emotions in one day, but suddenly he was boiling over. Arthur, walking into the mouth of a dragon. For what? Why had Merlin cared so much about anything else, when clearly Arthur was suffering more than he’d ever let on. He doesn’t know how to help, though, doesn't know how to protect Arthur now. He doesn’t know how to protect him from this.

He can see Arthur and Morgana arguing, but can’t make out what they’re saying.

After all these years of hard work, and Arthur was just planning to throw it away without even saying goodbye?

His calm demeanor this morning…He’s convinced he’s doing the right thing.

Merlin won’t let it happen. He will not let Arthur die here. He won’t let him die without being truly convinced of his place in Merlin’s life. His place in Camelot.

Arthur reaches for his glass.

And suddenly Merlin knows what Arthur’s hoping for. He thinks the drink is poisoned!

Merlin practically runs to his side, pushing the drink downward, away from his mouth. It splashes all over Arthur’s tunic, and for one horrible second Merlin is worried it’s acid. But it seems like regular wine, and Merlin can barely contain his relief.

“Oops. Sorry. Clumsy me. Allow me to clean you up, Sire.” Merlin said, never looking away from Arthur’s face.

Arthur laughed.

“It’s alright Merlin. It’ll take me far too long to hobble my way upstairs.” Arthur joked through clenched teeth. “Let me finish my meal, and then I will bathe.”

For a moment, Merlin wonders what he’ll have to do to get Arthur away from this hall. Will he have to use his magic?

Then Uther interrupts, and for one shining millisecond Merlin is glad he hasn’t killed him.

“I raised you with more manners than that, Arthur. Go and change your tunic.” Uther said. “And then we’ll see about finding you a more competent manservant.”

The last bit made Merlin roll his eyes, but overall he was grateful for Uther’s interruption. He practically hauled Arthur up, dragging him behind as quickly as he could.

“Come on, Sire. I’m sure we will be quick.” Merlin said. It takes everything in him to not just grab Arthur and run. Out of this room, out of the premonition. Safe.

Arthur is silent for most of their walk.

“You’re not gonna push me down these, are you?” Arthur joked nervously when they reached the stairs.

“I might. Then at least you’d be forced to go to Gaius.” Merlin answered. He’s just so angry. After all these years, Arthur is still convinced he’s all alone! Wasn’t Merlin just celebrating with the knights about Arthur’s newfound informality? How did it slide to this so quickly?

Mostly though, Merlin is angry with himself. He is meant to be protecting Arthur. And sometimes, occasionally, that includes from himself. He should’ve seen this. The exhaustion must be no help to the intrusive thoughts he is surely suffering from.

Finally, they reached Arthur’s chamber, and Merlin slammed the door behind them.

“Arthur, what were you thinking?” Merlin demanded. His voice came out more harsh than he had meant to, but his heart is still pounding from the scare. Arthur wouldn’t speak. He just stared at the ground, unblinking. “Answer me!”

Still, Arthur had no response. His shrug was almost a shiver. Merlin was still yelling but he wasn’t angry. He really just wanted his friend to be okay.

“How lost are you? Truly? You could have reached out to any of us for help, and we would bend over backwards for you.” Merlin caught the slight shake of Arthur’s head at this. “Leon. Percival. Gwaine. Morgana. Gwen.” Merlin paused, then added, quieter, “Me.” He pushed forward, “Anyone in town. Why is it that you are the only one who hates you, and the only one who doesn’t see it?” Arthur only shrugged again. “We need you, Arthur! This kingdom needs you!”

Merlin couldn’t stop himself, all the fears of this morning had only washed away in the fear of losing Arthur after everything. “I need you!” Merlin yelled, because if he didn’t yell, his voice would surely crack.

“This kingdom deserves better!” Arthur yelled back, looking up from the floor for the first time. Merlin could see the tears beginning to form in his eyes. “You deserve better!”

Merlin was affronted by this. How could anyone be better than Arthur? In what world could Merlin ever deserve anyone that good?

“Isn’t that my choice to make?” Merlin felt his voice go hoarse.

“Haven’t you already made it?” Arthur pointed. “Wasn’t it just this morning that you reminded me how we stand?”

Merlin thought about this for a moment. How we stand?

Unless…

Unless he’d believed the last ditch effort of Merlin covering his misstep. Unless he’d believed Merlin thought they actually weren’t friends.

No wonder he’d told him to go! Arthur had believed the most unconvincing lie, and must have felt so terribly hurt and betrayed from it.

Years of friendship swept away in a bad word. No matter. Merlin would spend the rest of his life making it up to him.

“I just misspoke, Arthur.” Merlin said, trying desperately to explain. “You know you’re my closest friend in the world!”

Unless Arthur didn’t know. Unless, after all this time, he really didn’t know.

“I’m bad for you. I’m bad for this Kingdom.” Arthur’s cheeks were stained in tears, and Merlin could hear his voice catch as he spoke. He tried to step forward, to comfort him, but Arthur only backed away.

“Surely you know that’s not true.” Merlin said, because he hadn’t known how bad it was. How deep this self-hatred went. Arthur would voice it sometimes, but this…Merlin hadn’t been paying enough attention. “Surely you know how needed you are, Arthur. Not just as a prince, or a knight, or a crown. But you.”

“I am a coward and a fool, Merlin.” Arthur spit the words like they were poison, like they were facts written in a book.

But Merlin had overheard that last reprimand between Uther and Arthur. Uther had called him that very thing.

“Are those your words, or your father’s?” Merlin asked, crying himself without really knowing why.

“What?” Arthur’s cheeks and nose are red and his eyelashes look longer somehow. Merlin wishes so much he could offer some sort of comfort. He decides honesty is the best he can do.

“Your father is more cowardly and more foolish than you have ever been, Arthur, despite what he’s drilled into you.” Arthur shakes his head so rapidly that Merlin wonders how young these words had been ingrained into him. “He’s been degrading you for so long I’m not sure you know how to tell the difference between his thoughts and yours.”

“That’s not true.” Arthur whispered.

“Really? Because I look at you and see someone who would lay down his life for an entire kingdom, without having ever been asked. Uther rules us to ruin without an ounce of regret.” Merlin tries to be clear. Tries to finally voice the thoughts echoing around his head. The few reasons of many that he wishes Uther Pendragon would just drop dead. “You saved hundreds of druid lives, simply because you saw an injustice. Uther kills with ease, because he only sees hatred.” Merlin pauses, then adds, “You allow me to walk beside you, as a friend. Uther would have me killed for it.”

Arthur tries to wipe his eyes and nose but he hasn’t stopped weeping.

“C’mon, Merlin.” Arthur cried out, “You’re the kindest person in the world, and even you can barely stand me.”

This past week really had been awful for the both of them, hadn’t it? Never again, Merlin promises himself quietly. Never again.

“That’s not true! Why would I keep coming back to you, if I didn’t want to?” Merlin wants to add, Why would I risk life in Camelot, if it weren’t for you?

Arthur holds his head in his hands, and bawls as he crumples into himself. He looks so much younger, like this, and Merlin’s heart hurts for him. How often has this boy been taught to cry silently, or not cry at all? How many years has this been building for?

“I won’t, hurt, you,” Arthur sobs between each word, making it nearly impossible for Merlin to understand what he’s saying. “I killed, druids, and, ‘cause of me, and I ruined things.” Arthur’s knees give out and Merlin watches helplessly as he collapses to the floor, cane falling alongside him, as he cries out false confessions. “I ruin things.” Arthur takes deep breaths between each sentence, or perhaps just hiccups between each sob. “I ruin things. I’ll ruin you. And I can’t. I can’t ruin you, too.” Arthur is inconsolable, completely broken there on the floor. “I can’t.” He wails, over and over and over again. He won’t stop, and Merlin feels himself crack in half from it.

He sits on the floor and pulls a shaking, crying Arthur toward him. He doesn’t stop crying at this, but at least he stops repeating his “I can’t,” so Merlin figures it is at least a little better. Arthur clings to Merlin’s tunic, and Merlin pulls him closer. Distantly Merlin recognizes that he’s crying too, but the important part is that Arthur is everything, and Arthur is crying, and Arthur needs a really good hug.

So Merlin holds him. He holds him as tight as he can, and Arthur just curls up into him, whimpering and whispering how sorry he is, and how he killed the druids, and how he’s a killer, and how he should be dead, and how he’s tired, and how he’s sorry. He says that one the most. He is so sorry. Merlin hates it.

Arthur begins to calm down, but Merlin doesn’t let go. He whispers that everything will be alright, and he throws a ‘darling’ in a few times because Arthur really need only take one good look at Merlin to know how loved he is. Arthur is loved by everyone, but by no-one more than Merlin.

After a very long while, Arthur’s cries die out and all that remains are his stained cheeks and hiccups. Merlin recalls yesterday morning, and how far away Arthur had felt. It’s in such contrast to now, where Arthur is so close to him that it feels deeper than a hug. Arthur’s name is scratched into his magic, and it surrounds them, and Arthur doesn’t notice but Merlin always does.

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.” Merlin continues to whisper. “It’s okay. You are so loved. How can you not know how loved you are?” Arthur doesn’t say anything, but Merlin knows he is listening. “I haven’t told you enough.” He said decidedly. “But I’ll remind you until the day I die, darling. You are so loved. You are needed, here.” He wants to say, I need you here. But Merlin is afraid to break the fragile thing hiding in his arms. “You make me better. You make everything you touch better.”

He feels Arthur shake his head against his chest. Merlin laughs lightly, because of course Arthur disagrees with everything Merlin says. Not this, though. Never again.

“No? You don’t believe me?” Merlin pulled Arthur closer to his chest, if that were possible. “Take your cane, for example.” Merlin reaches for the cane Arthur had dropped, glad his mending spell from this morning had kept it intact. “I made it for you, and it was pretty nice looking. But you next to it, wearing Camelot’s colors, standing tall?” Merlin conjures this image in his head as he speaks and decides it’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Of course, this happens with Arthur often. Pretty much every day he is a new level of beauty. “You make that cane better. You make things more beautiful all the time.”

“You,” Arthur sniffles, “You made the cane?”

Merlin faintly realizes that he isn’t supposed to be able to make canes. He tries to recover, but doesn’t want to lie or backtrack. He’d done plenty of that this morning.

“Yeah, I did. Took me a little while. I had a lot of days off, while you were asleep. Plenty of time to get it right.” Merlin explained, then after a shuddered breath of remembering, “I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as when you were stuck in that bed. I stopped breathing the moment I saw you slumped in Gwaine’s arms on that horse and I didn’t start again until you walked to your desk, twenty-one days later.” His voice was nearly a whisper by the end of the sentence, because this is the most true thing he’d ever said. He continued admitting things, even though maybe he shouldn’t. “You kept having nightmares, and I couldn’t pull you from them. You would sniffle and even call out sometimes. And I would just sit there, useless, working on a cane. I kept talking to you. Sometimes I thought you could hear me, but once you woke up I knew you hadn’t.”

Merlin feels overwhelmed with the memory of it. He had hoped that sometimes the humming or the ‘darlings’ were enough, but Arthur was always asleep, and he could never tell how much he was actually helping. And he had just been waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“What did you say?” Arthur whispered.

“Told you all my secrets, is all.” Merlin ducked his head onto Arthur’s, talking into his hair. It’s soft and so blond and if it wasn’t for Arthur crying he’d be reveling in how he wishes they could be like this all the time.

“You won’t tell me about them now?”

Merlin can’t. He just can’t.

“You know I trust you with my life, don’t you?” Merlin dodged. “More than anyone else in the world. I worry now that maybe you don’t have any idea at all how desperately important you are to me.” Merlin took a deep breath, resting his chin on the top of Arthur’s head. “Anything I don’t tell you is because I believe that it’s just better for you that you don’t have to carry it. It’s not because I don’t trust you.”

This alone might be too much, but he can’t backpedal. He doesn’t want to stumble into hurting Arthur, the way he had earlier today.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Merlin.” Arthur half-whined. Merlin smiled even though Arthur couldn’t see it. Gods, he loves him.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Merlin answered him.

“It’s okay. If you think it’s better for me not to know, I believe you.” Arthur paused. “But you’ll tell me one day, won’t you?”

Merlin froze for a moment, but couldn’t deny Arthur this. Not now, not like this.

“I promise.” Merlin swore.

“Okay.” Arthur whispered. “I trust you.”

Merlin relaxes as Arthur, his Arthur, looks up at him. Merlin decides right then that he’ll tell Arthur how in love with him he is. Merlin realizes now that the worst case scenario is that Arthur won’t believe him. Which is fine. Merlin will happily spend the rest of his days convincing Arthur it’s true.

Arthur tucks his head back into Merlin’s chest, and for a while they just enjoy each other’s company. Merlin whispers comforting things for a bit but he falls silent when he sees Arthur falling asleep. He holds him tighter, if possible, as if to keep him safe from the nightmares.

A pounding at the door seems to wake Arthur and makes Merlin jump. Merlin squeezes Arthur as tightly as he can before pulling away and helping Arthur to his feet and returning his cane.

When he opens the door, he inwardly sighs upon seeing Uther’s red, blubbering face. Merlin wants to tell him to go away. To stay far from this boy that he had hurt so much, this man that holds far too many scars because of Uther.

“What, son, could you have possibly been doing that caused you to miss dinner?” He spits out. Merlin glances at Arthur to see his unreadable face.

“I apologize, father, I was…” Arthur trailed off, seemingly giving up on finding an explanation.

“He was yelling at me for spilling on him. Really letting me have it, really—” Merlin rambled out. Uther turned around to face him.

“Did I speak to you, servant?” Merlin went quiet at this, though his magic only grew louder. “Come, Arthur. It’s time you and I have a long overdue conversation.” Uther commanded, and then left the room, expecting his son to follow.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.” Arthur whispered to Merlin as he passed. Merlin nodded and went to go sit on the bed.

The door shut behind them and Merlin sat. Merlin decides that when Arthur comes back, he’ll tell him.

“I love you.” He said aloud, practicing the words on his tongue.

He sits for a while before he decides he should light the candles, seeing as the sun had set a long while ago. At least it gives him something to do. “I love you, Arthur.” He said as he worked. The fire had begun to dim, too, so Merlin spent his time working on that. “Arthur, I love you.”

Soon he’d finished his chores and returned to the bed.

“I love you.” He practiced. It felt scary. But Arthur needed to know. He needed to be told, and then he needed to be reminded. “I love you.”

The things he’d said earlier…about Merlin deserving better, or that he thinks he’ll ruin Merlin.

When had these backwards ideas creeped into Arthur’s mind? Why wasn’t Merlin there to stop them?

“I am in love with you. Always have been, probably.” He said. That one sounded nice, if a little unsure.

Merlin wonders what Arthur and Uther had been doing all this time. It feels like a very long while has passed.

He hums to himself, kicking his feet as he sits patiently on the bed. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Maybe he should’ve gone. What if Uther is there, demeaning him once again, undoing the bit of progress they’d achieved tonight. His magic seeps out across the room protectively.

“It’s alright. He’ll be back. And then I’ll tell him.”

And so Merlin waits, and waits, and waits.

Chapter Text

Merlin has been waiting for Arthur to return for far too long. Really, how long does it take for a father to demean and demoralize his son? Just as Merlin has made the decision to go off and find Arthur, the door opens.

Merlin looks up, ready to blurt his prepared confessions.

Except it’s Gwen that stands there, looking rushed and sweaty.

“Hurry!”

Merlin pounds off the bed, his heart dropping.

Gwen guides him out of the castle without saying a word, both rushing away. They pass the great hall as they exit and Merlin stops short.

On the floor of the great hall lies Uther. He could be asleep, if it weren’t for his neck bones situated the opposite way of his head. His neck had been snapped. No other way around it.

“Is…is he…” Merlin stammered.

“Yes.” Gwen said, staring at the body with him.

“Is Arthur…?” Merlin asked, because he couldn’t help it.

“With Gaius. Come on.” She answered, grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward. After they passed the room, the urgency returned to Merlin and he fled ahead of her. If Arthur is with Gaius, he’s not alright.

He slammed the door open to see Arthur already on the table. Again. He looks worse than last time, blood erupting from the stitches on his chest and gushing from what appeared to be a broken nose. His eyes are bloodshot and there are bruises already forming around his neck.

“Arthur!” He rushed toward him, taking a hold of his hand without hesitation.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, it looks worse than it is.” This is clearly a lie, because even his voice sounds gravelly. Merlin looked to Gaius, who seems to agree with Arthur’s assessment. Merlin can’t help but put his forehead to Arthur’s. Checking his temperature or maybe listening for his heart or maybe he just wants to be as close as he can.

Morgana’s premonition of Arthur choking to death…Merlin hadn’t stopped it at all. Merlin had been waiting in his room, like an idiot.

“I can’t believe I let you get hurt again, I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m so sorry.” Merlin can only grasp his hand, waiting for Gaius’ instructions on what to do.

“It’s alright. I’m fine, really.”

It’s not fine. Nothing about it is fine. Uther is finally dead, which is great, but he’d hurt Arthur, which is horrible, and Merlin hadn’t been anywhere near to help, which is unbearable. Once again he’d let Arthur go off on his own, and once again Arthur had gotten hurt.

And now, all Merlin can do is help stitch Arthur back up, trying not to shake, and grasping Arthur’s hand when he can.

The rest of the room is silent, Morgana and Gwen waiting quietly against the far wall. But Merlin has no time for them. Arthur had been hurt far too much tonight. Merlin swears he will never allow it again.

He should’ve killed Uther when he had the chance.

Now, Arthur had to do it, so clearly in self defense.

Even so, Merlin waits until Gaius retires to his room, announcing Arthur stable and safe, to ask about it.

“I…We saw the dead body.” Merlin couldn’t help but look to Arthur, waiting to hear the confession of what he’d been forced to do.

“It was me.” Morgana called out from the corner that she and Gwen were cuddled in.

“Oh.” Merlin replied.

Good for Morgana, he can’t help but think. She’d suffered more than anyone at Uther’s hand. If anyone deserved to kill him after all these years, Merlin was glad it was her.

Strange though, how quick she’d made it. A snapped neck? He isn’t judging her, of course, but even Merlin wouldn’t have let him die so fast, if he’d had the chance. Nobody would have blamed her for letting him bleed out.

“You better thank the Gods she was there. I was totally useless.” Arthur joked. Merlin is glad he’s not judging her either. He wonders how much Arthur knows of Morgana’s awful childhood. Sometimes Merlin wonders if Arthur shared it…but he doesn’t think so. Arthur would’ve told him. And honestly, Uther seems more sexist than anything else. Arthur was always raised to be King, while Morgana was raised to be quiet.

“You better thank the Gods she was there, because if I’d seen you in this condition, he’d be dead by my hand instead.” Merlin responded. This was true. If he’d wandered down after them, and seen this, Arthur would’ve known the full force of his magic, then and there. The voice inside him whispering to kill Uther would have won out after all this time. It would have been a bloodbath.

Merlin can’t help but be eternally grateful Morgana had been there, instead of him. Merlin would have single-handedly convinced Arthur that magic is evil. Morgana had saved them both tonight.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Gwen whispered to Morgana. Merlin turns to see them holding hands almost as tightly as he and Arthur are. “Never doubted you for a moment.” Morgana rests her head on Gwen’s shoulder.

“I’m glad that you’re here.” Morgana whispered back, quieter.

“Morgana, could I ask you a favor?” Arthur croaked from the table.

“Always.”

“Uther told me…He said the druid camps were burned. The ones we saved. I supposed he'd had no reason to lie, since he was going to kill me anyway, but…” Arthur trailed off, his eyes pinching shut. It reminded Merlin of the face he makes when he’s in a nightmare, and so Merlin’s hand went immediately to his hair. Arthur relaxed some, but when his eyes reopened they were glossy.

“I’ll ride out in the morning.” Morgana answered without a thought. Merlin pictured her among the druids, exploring her magic in ways the self-taught Merlin couldn’t hope to help her with…It’s a sweet thought. Merlin doesn’t belong there, but Morgana? She has that same goodness and peace as they do. She’d fit right in.

“You can if you like, but I was hoping you’d have my knights go. I need someone to run the castle while I heal. I am in no condition.” Arthur offered.

Merlin realized for the first time that Arthur is King, now. His bedrest would not go unnoticed. There is a castle to run, and Uther is no longer around to run it.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” She decided.

“It’s probably for the best,” Arthur consoled her, “If it’s true, I doubt they buried the bodies.” Arthur’s voice became almost faint. “The knights will have an awful task ahead of them.”

“Yes, that’s…I’m not sure if I could handle that.” Morgana admitted.

“That’s alright. I couldn’t either.” He whispered. “I’ll have to repeal the ban on magic. I’ll begin the draft in the morning.”

Just like that?

Merlin supposes he’s still getting used to Arthur’s newly revealed opinions on magic. How long had it been, believing he thought otherwise? It’s something to celebrate, of course, but when Arthur says it so freely Merlin finds himself unprepared.

“Won’t that cause problems in our alliances?” Gwen spoke up. She’s always so wise. She’d make a great Queen, if it ever fell to Morgana to rule.

“I’m not sure. I might have to renegotiate terms of treaties, but surely it’s nothing worth going to war over.”

“Unless you’re Uther, of course.” Morgana joked. Merlin couldn’t contain his laugh. He understands Uther just died and all, but he was the worst, so it’s easy to laugh over him. He would easily send Camelot into war if he thought one of his allies supported magic. The insane old bat.

“Oh, yeah. He’d definitely go to war over it!” Merlin giggled. He glanced down at Arthur to see a faint smile on his face. A beat passed, then Arthur spoke into the darkness.

“I’m really alright. You two should go to bed. Especially you, Morgana. A heavy weight lies on your shoulders, come tomorrow.” Arthur said.

“Absolutely not, Arthur. I’m staying here by your side.” Morgana replied sternly.

“No, love, he’s right. You’ve had a day. You need sleep.” Gwen chimed in, standing up and smoothing her dress.

“I don’t!” Morgana grumbled, despite allowing Gwen to pull her up. “I am not leaving.” Gwen used their clasped hands to drag her out of the place.

“See? Gwen’s always been the smartest one in this duo.” Arthur teased as Gwen led Morgana away. She turned to stick her tongue out at her brother.

“Not going to tell me to go to bed?” Merlin joked lightly, hand still playing with Arthur’s hair.

“Oh, I know there’s no convincing you.” Arthur replied, a small smile on his bruised face. The blood had been cleaned off, but in the dark it’s easy to reimagine where it had been. “Plus, it’s not exactly like you’ll have to work much tomorrow, seeing as I’ll be stuck in bed once again.”

“Hey!” Merlin defended, “I work hard always, thank you very much! Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.” This makes Arthur laugh lightly. Merlin celebrates for a moment before Arthur then begins coughing.

“Sure, sure.” He teased, after his throat had calmed down.

“It’s true!” Merlin giggles.

“Does that mean you need to go to bed, then?” Arthur asked, even though they both knew the answer.

“Oh, not a chance.” Merlin responded. Remembering the awful morning they’d had, he added, “You’re stuck with me, I think.”

“Thank you,” Arthur answered after a while, “For holding me earlier. For not letting go.” Merlin cups Arthur’s cheek in his hand, stroking it softly.

“Are you doing okay? Tonight was…very eventful.” Merlin asked softly. Arthur fell quiet and Merlin let him think through his emotions. It had been an emotional day for Merlin, so he can’t imagine how complex and awful it had been for Arthur.

Arthur doesn’t respond to this, though. He pivots the subject when he eventually speaks.

“I think you were the first person to give me a hug. I think you were the first person to hold me at all.” Arthur said finally.

Arthur. His Arthur. Merlin, who has heard bits and pieces of his childhood, has imagined the neglect he’s had to endure. But for some reason, he’d never pictured this.

Merlin has always had enough love. He grew up in a small house, with just him and his mother and a stray cat that would sometimes wander in. But even when it was only the two of them, Merlin felt loved. His mother would sing to him when he was sick, tell him stories at nighttime. And her hugs always came naturally, and right when he needed them. He doesn’t remember having a ‘first hug’. They’d always just been there. He’d grown up with Will, too, and they’d shared hugs and childhood laughter and freedom. They’d explored meadows and ignored bullies and ate homemade soup from vegetables they’d helped collect. He’s dead now. But that’s beside the point.

Even in Camelot, Merlin often reaches to hold Gwaine or Gwen, or even Leon and Percy. He receives hugs freely and often, has never really had a loss for them. Merlin can’t imagine it.

Morgana, from the knowledge that Merlin has collected, grew up abused and terrified. Since the time Merlin arrived in Camelot, Morgana had been quiet around Uther, sitting up perfectly straight at dinner. From the stories Arthur tells of her, this is not how Morgana used to be.

Arthur’s mother died during childbirth. Who knows what Uther was like before that. He has the same eyes as Arthur, and Merlin wonders if he used to be kind, so very long ago. But after his wife passed, Uther went cold. That’s what Gaius says, at least. So for all of Arthur’s life, Uther ignored and tolerated him, attempting to mold Arthur’s warm soul into his own stone-cold one. Maybe Arthur had enjoyed slivers of childhood with a ward he now considers his sibling, but she has probably experienced the same lack of love that he had. Neither had enough to spare for the other.

Merlin has known Arthur for years. He thinks back to the few “almost” hugs they’d had, where Arthur had pulled back or defensively asked what Merlin was doing. He thinks of the knights, who can’t openly hug a Prince. Merlin accepts the fact that he was Arthur’s first hug. But the fact that it took them so long…All the years Merlin has known him, and they hadn’t properly hugged until recently.

“I didn’t know that.” Merlin answered him. “I suppose I should have guessed, though.” His words feel empty. He doesn’t know how to fix this. He wishes he could rewind Arthur’s life, go back and redo, give him the love he deserved.

“I like them.” Arthur said absently. “Hugs. I hug Morgana now, too. But yours are my favorites.”

This shouldn’t take Merlin by surprise, but it does. This morning really had thrown him, but hadn’t he been preparing a love confession only an hour or two ago? It feels wrong to say now, though. Arthur has probably had enough surprises for one night.

“Well,” Merlin responds, grateful for the darkness to hide a blushing smile, “You’d better expect them a lot more often, then.”

“Gladly.” Arthur said.

This is good, because now Merlin couldn’t stop hugging Arthur if he wanted to.

They fell into silence for a little while, Merlin petting Arthur’s hair and holding his hand. Arthur is the one to break the silence.

“You were right, by the way.” He said.

“I’m always right. You’ll have to be more specific.” Merlin joked.

“I heard it, when Uther was trying to kill me. The things he was saying. They’re things I say to myself all the time. Things I’ve never spoken or written down, and yet he said them word for word. Because they had been his thoughts. Not mine.” Arthur confessed. He sounded so distraught over it. Uther is dead, but Merlin sort of wants to bring him back to life just so he could kill him again.

“He’s the only one who’s ever thought a bad thing about you.” Merlin answered. “He managed to convince you of it all, but it’s not true. Everyone else sees how wonderful and competent you are. Everyone in Camelot loves you.” I love you, Merlin wants to add, but he doesn’t. “Even the kitchens were telling me today how adorable you looked asking for a plum.”

“Well, where are you getting them from, then?!” He exclaimed. Merlin laughed, because he couldn’t give a proper response.

They fall into silence again, and Arthur stares at the ceiling. Merlin wants to ask him what he’s thinking, but with the whirlwind that had been today, he could probably guess. Arthur’s eyes squint closed for a second before he reopens them and turns to Merlin.

“Are you magic, Merlin?” Arthur whispered in the dark. Merlin gasped aloud. He was sure that alone had confirmed Arthur’s suspicion, but the question had come so out of the blue that he hadn’t expected it. It had caught him completely off guard and he found himself at a loss for what to say. This had not been Merlin’s guess as to what Arthur was thinking at all. Now Merlin’s mind is racing too fast, he can’t keep up—how does he respond, should he lie, what to do, what to do, does Arthur hate him, help, help, help.

“Yes.” Merlin admitted, before he could change his mind. He stared down at Arthur, awaiting anger or disappointment or sadness.

“Alright.” Arthur responded calmly. His face relaxed and he closed his eyes again.

Merlin still could only inhale air, his chest too tight to allow him to regulate his breathing. He felt tears welling up in his eyes from the pure stress of it. Years and years and years he’d carried this secret and now he’s forgotten how to let go.

“Is that it?” Merlin asked, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

“I mean, it doesn’t really change anything, does it? You’re still my favorite person in the world.” Merlin wants to cry, but it feels unfair given what Arthur has been through tonight. Even so, he feels completely blindsided, as if he’d been cut open and ripped apart. “As long as you keep giving me plums, that is.” This small joke made Merlin bark out a laugh without really thinking about it. Merlin loves Arthur. And Arthur doesn’t mind Merlin’s magic. Arthur knows…and everything is fine. Arthur isn’t hurt by all the lying.

“Sure. Plums for the rest of forever.” Merlin promised. He still felt raw, but this is a promise he intends to keep.

“Will you…” Arthur trailed off, then swallowed. “Can I see?”

Yet again, Merlin is so stunned by this that for a moment he doesn’t understand what Arthur is asking for. See? What does he want to see?

Merlin realizes after far too long that Arthur means his magic. Arthur wants to see his magic. For the first time in a long time, though, his magic is quiet. It feels almost…shy.

“When you’re better.” Merlin answered him, trying to sound confident despite how shaky and unmasked he felt. “Although now I suppose I could heal you while you’re awake.” He thought aloud. He honestly tried to summon up his magic, but when he opened his mouth nothing came out. Arthur had figured out his big secret, but his secret was not ready to come out. Merlin had become too used to hiding. “No, it’ll probably be easier when I’m not nervous. I won’t risk any mistakes on you.” He said honestly. Healing spells are hard enough, and forcing one is not a good idea.

“Okay. I guess I’ll have to heal quickly, then, so I can see.” Arthur answered. Distantly Merlin realizes how clammy his hand had become. He wants to wipe it on his pants, but Arthur is still holding so tightly to him that he doesn’t dare pull away. As if that will be the thing to break the patience Arthur has, as if that will be the thing to make Arthur realize how evil Merlin might be.

“You’d better, you prat.” He answers, his voice far too shaky to sound like a joke.

Sometime after this, Arthur falls asleep. Merlin can’t help but place a kiss to his knuckles, the way he had the last time Arthur had been on Gaius’ table.

“Thank you, darling. I can’t believe…” He trails off. What is it that he can’t believe? That Arthur attempted suicide only a few hours ago? That Uther is finally dead? That Merlin had been Arthur’s first hug? That Arthur knows of Merlin’s magic, and isn’t heartbroken because of it?

He can’t believe any of it, really. Tonight has been too much.

Merlin’s magic isn’t nervous now that Arthur is asleep, but he only has the energy to cast two healing spells on him before he becomes drowsy and lies beside Arthur, still holding hands.

He wakes far earlier than Arthur, at the sound of an awkward cough in the doorway. He sits upright in surprise.

“Hi.” Percy whispers. Leon gives an awkward wave. Merlin yawns in response. He gets up slowly, forcing himself to gently let go of Arthur’s hand, and walks toward the knights. He waves them to come outside with him.

“Morning.” He greets with another yawn.

“Morgana told us what happened.” Gwaine said, his voice serious.

“I’d kill Uther again if I could. But Gaius says Arthur will be fine.” Merlin answers. The knights nod and seem to relax.

“Give him our best, will you?” Leon said. At Merlin’s confused look, he continues, “Morgana is sending us off. She said the druid camps,” Leon chokes up a bit and coughs to clear it, “They might be in trouble.” Merlin remembers Arthur’s conversation with Morgana last night and nods his head.

“Be safe.” Merlin said. Gwaine gives Merlin a hug and he wonders how he’d feel without it. Leon and Percy give him half-hugs, rushing to check on the camp they’d become so fond of.

Merlin returns to Arthur’s side. Hours pass, but he does’t bother trying to fall asleep again. His back hurt from leaning onto the table all night. Gaius comes out at one point to check Arthur’s wounds, and deems him well enough to return to his own quarters.

It’s only a little while after Gaius leaves them that Arthur seems to stir. Not awaken, though, and instead seems thrusted into a nightmare.

“Sh, sh, it’s alright, darling. Everything is alright, I promise.” He whispers to him. But Arthur keeps murmuring to himself, brows furrowed, eyes pinched closed. “Arthur, love, you’re safe, everyone is safe.” Merlin tries again, to no success. Arthur starts crying, and Merlin has no choice but to shake him awake.

Arthur doesn’t say anything, and barely seems to register where he is. He can only sob and whimper nonsensical words. Merlin holds him as much as he can without disturbing his wounds. He tries to wipe his tears, but it’s really no use until Arthur stops crying. So Merlin settles for attempting to comfort him.

Once Arthur has finished, he isn’t calm. Instead he attempts to sit up, rushing with an urgency he hadn’t had the energy for last night.

“Has Gaius said I’m allowed to move yet? I have to go, Merlin, I have to—”

“You are not going to those camps, Arthur.” Merlin cut him off, reaching his hands toward his friend as if he were a scared animal.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Arthur began, but Merlin refused to let him finish.

“I know that’s what you were just dreaming about. I know you’re worried.” Arthur looks so terribly upset that Merlin can’t help but cup his cheek. “The knights left at dawn. They’ll be home as soon as they can to report back to you.” Merlin glances down to Arthur’s wounds and back up to his eyes. He’d seen the anxiety on the knight’s faces this morning. He hopes for their sake that they do not show up to find bodies. “What good could possibly come of seeing it all in person?”

Arthur looks down at his lap.

“C’mon, Gaius said you’d be alright to move to your chambers if I helped and you used your cane.” Merlin said. He tried helping Arthur up, but he seemed hesitant. He squinted his eyes at Merlin.

“You know I’m in charge, right?” Arthur said slowly. Merlin raised an eyebrow. Yeah, sure. We can pretend if you like, Merlin thought.

“Yes, of course.” Merlin agreed, trying not to laugh. “Ready? Let’s go.” He said authoritatively, knowing Arthur would follow.

Eventually, after ages of helping Arthur rediscover a balance on his cane, they walk slowly back up into the castle.

Merlin hears Morgana laughing loudly before he even sees her. He realizes that this is the first time he’d ever heard her laugh in an open hallway of the castle.

“Arthur!” Morgana hugs Arthur as soon as she spots him, and he reaches his free arm around her. It suddenly clicks for Merlin that he had only seen them hug one other time. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” When she pulls away, Gwen hugs Arthur too, wrapping her arms softly around his waist. Merlin notices the surprise on Arthur’s face fade as he smiles and hugs her back.

“Yes, yes, stop fawning over me. Clearly I’m unkillable.” Arthur teased, after Gwen had pulled away. Everyone laughs.

“Only because I’ve been saving your royal be-hind!” Merlin teases back. “And Morgana!” He adds. Gwen and Morgana look sharply at Merlin, who is still laughing, and then to Arthur, eyes-wide.

They seem to wait a moment, expecting a reaction. Merlin finally stops laughing to see their struck expressions. He realizes that this is the first time he’s joked openly about his magic in front of Arthur. Merlin looks to him to see him smiling. Well, they’d both gotten used to this new dynamic fairly quickly, hadn’t they?

“It’s alright, he figured it out all on his own.” Merlin calmed them, patting Arthur on the arm. He enjoyed the glare Arthur gave at their surprised faces, as though they never expected this outcome. Which is fair, given it’s been years of ignorance.

Really though, had it been? What are the chances Arthur figures it out the night his maniac father dies?

Merlin doesn’t think it would’ve been purposeful. The moment Arthur realized, he’d asked. Even still…It’s odd timing.

“You two knew?!” Arthur gasped.

“Gwen told me.” Morgana shrugged.

“Gwaine told me.” Said Gwen.

“Wait, GWAINE knows?” Merlin glances nervously at Arthur, but he is doing that mouth-half-open smile that he does once in a blue moon when he’s teasing. Merlin lets out a breath and tries to lead Arthur away, but he stays put.

“Oh, honestly Arthur,” Morgana said, “I think you’re the last person to not know.” Merlin’s eyes go wide at her blunt honesty. It’s true, of course, but what a way to rat him out!

“It’s Gwaine’s fault!” Merlin blurts after Arthur smiles at him with a raised brow. “He figured it out and told Gwen, who told Morgana, who told LEON of all people, who then of course told Percival. And Gaius always knew. It is not my fault!”

Arthur’s laugh rings out and Merlin feels more at home then he’s been in a very long time. The girls join in and even Merlin manages to chuckle despite his embarrassment.

“Can you believe that my manservant still hasn’t fed his poor, unwell King breakfast yet?” Arthur teased after they’d calmed down. “Incompetence, I’m telling you!” Merlin rolled his eyes but the girls giggled.

“Oh, come on, you.” Merlin said, dragging him along.

“Morgana,” Arthur called back as Merlin forced him away, “When you find the time, could you meet me in my quarters? I would like your counsel.” Merlin hears a squeal behind him and looks back to see Morgana and Gwen with linked arms, quietly celebrating together. Finally, a King in Camelot who isn’t trying to shut her up.

Merlin helps Arthur into his desk chair. He suddenly has an urge to ask if they’re really alright, or if perhaps Arthur is hiding his feelings, the way he had with Morgana.

Instead, he excuses himself from the room with a joke and goes to fetch Arthur’s breakfast.

Chapter Text

It’s not until he’s down in the kitchens that Merlin finally finds out the full story of what had happened. Or most of it, anyway. The parts that Gwen and Morgana had heard, when they’d arrived at the servant’s entrance of the great hall. The door must have been locked or obstructed, and since Morgana didn’t know a spell for it, they had no choice but to shove their way inside, and overheard the end of the conversation.

Apparently, King Stephan and Queen Aviana had found several druid camps on their travels to return to Camelot. The camps that Leon and Arthur had reported to have found and killed. Just as Morgana and Gwen broke through the door, Uther had Arthur up against the wall, choking him and claiming that he had never planned for Arthur to actually take the throne. Morgana stopped him, and Uther had begged for his life like the coward that he was, and she snapped his neck anyway. Morgana took Arthur to Gaius, and Gwn ran to fetch Merlin, luckily passing Leon on the way, telling him to remove the body and they’ll explain when they can.

Gwen and Merlin gossip outside the kitchens, where Gwen had caught Merlin and pulled him aside, away from the doorway.

“Do you know why she chose to snap his neck?” Merlin asked. Gwen had shrugged, seeming surprised at his question.

“She said what she needed to say, I think. After that, she probably just wanted to be done with him.”

“Fair enough.” Merlin agrees.

“He was so horrible to Arthur, the things he was saying…” Gwen trailed off. This is something Merlin could easily imagine. But Arthur being beaten to death as his father screamed the usual insults? He has a feeling this will stay with Arthur for a long time.

“Oh!” Gwen exclaimed after a moment of silence. “Arthur’s first act as King was to promote Morgana! On the way to Gaius, in fact. She’s his Advisor now!”

“Oh! Hey, that’s great. Give her my congratulations!” Merlin said with a smile. Gwen looked around, making sure the hallway was still empty.

“And after Arthur officially removes the ban on magic, she’ll also be Prophetess to the King!” Gwen looks so excited that Merlin can’t help but hug her, both of them jumping in celebration.

“So…What is that?” Merlin asked after they separated.

“Oh. I’m not sure. But she knew he’d be choked, and had a feeling we should return to the great hall even though he was supposed to be safe with you. Seems like a good tool for a King. Especially if he follows the plan next time.” She shrugs. Merlin chuckles.

“Arthur? Doing as he’s told? Good luck with that.”

“She’ll have her hands full!” Gwen laughs. Then, calmer, “How is Arthur doing?”

Merlin thought about this for a moment.

“He’ll be better when we know if the druids are safe.”

“I sure hope they are. Percy was so worried about them. I think they are all pretty attached.” Gwen said. It makes sense that Gwen and Percy are so close. They both have that calm, sweet demeanor.

Gwen and Merlin finish their gossip and hug, celebrating and mourning and wondering all at once, before entering the kitchens and taking their respective trays.

“Bye!” Gwen called over her shoulder as they went separate ways.

“Give Morgana my love!” Merlin called back.

He waited until he was just outside Arthur’s door to create the plum and put it on his tray. The knights assigned to his door while he was in a comatose state have since been reassigned, seeing as he’s up and walking again. Maybe they should return, now that he has new injuries, but so far Uther’s death is a well kept secret.

When Merlin walks into the room, Arthur doesn’t look up. He is staring at his lap, unblinking, hands folded together. He waits for Arthur to say something, but he doesn’t seem to realize that Merlin has even returned. Merlin places the tray as carefully and quietly as he can, not wanting to startle him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Merlin asked, barely above a whisper. He’s surprised when Arthur nods. Merlin is relieved. He doesn’t want Arthur to hide his thoughts away, the way he’s apparently been doing for a long time. He wants Arthur to be able to talk to him.

“Do you think me a bad person, Merlin?” Arthur questioned, after a moment of thinking. He looked up to Merlin.

“No.” Merlin answered firmly. This was why he hadn’t wanted to tell Arthur of his magic! Now he’ll never believe that Merlin had been worried for him, not about him. And now here is Arthur doubting himself anyway. Merlin goes to open the curtains, but doesn’t bother with the rest of his chores. He sits cross-legged on the rug, facing Arthur.

“If they are dead because of me, I…” Arthur trailed off. Merlin frowned. What? So this isn’t because of Merlin’s lies, but because of the camps? Merlin can’t make sense of how Arthur could possibly be blamed.

“How would it be your fault, Arthur?” Merlin asked him. Arthur buried his face in his hands.

“I let them die, Merlin.” Arthur sighed.

“How?” How is everything always Arthur’s fault? Merlin can’t imagine having to live in Arthur’s mind, blaming himself for things he has no control of, things that were handed to him and he’s been made to deal with.

“I should have moved them!” He confessed.

“Where? Uther said they found several camps. You only knew the location of the one. You protected them. You fooled Uther into letting you go and seek them out, only so that you could apologize and treat them with dignity and respect. How are their deaths now on your shoulders?” Merlin realized how accusatory and intense his voice had become, the way it always does when he is defending Arthur’s actions. He tries to sound more gentle, “I’m not trying to be harsh. I just want to understand.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, but his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.

“I just think you were about as helpless in the situation as you possibly could’ve been. You couldn’t walk on your own, you hid the camps to the best of your ability, Stephan and Aviana were already on their way when you were still unconscious.” Merlin can’t help but continue. It’s impossible for it to have been Arthur’s fault.

Arthur gives a barely perceptible shake of his head, looking back down to his hands.

“I’m not saying you’re a perfect man, Arthur. If you want to blame yourself for the events at the first camp I understand. I don’t agree, but at least you were awake and around for that one. This one had nothing to do with you, as far as I can see.” Merlin finished. Arthur looked up, that sad teary eyed look from last night returning to his face.

“I keep watching the druids die.” Arthur said finally, barely above a whisper. “All the time. Every night. Always in new, twisted, awful ways. I saw their camp last night, and it felt so real, Merlin.”

“I’m sorry.” Merlin whispered back, wishing there was something he could do to help. “I couldn’t imagine being haunted the way you are. I’ve killed, and lost sleep over it, but not like this.” As Merlin speaks, he tries to ignore the immediate flashbacks of the people he’s killed, the deaths he’s caused, the mistakes he’s made. “Have you gotten any proper sleep at all, since the first druid camp?”

“At the second druid camp, with Elrand, and my knights.” Arthur answered with wide eyes. “They all seemed so safe and happy and I was there to protect them, and I slept so soundly.”

“Oh, Arthur.” If the camp has been destroyed, is there nothing Merlin can ever do? Will that have been the last sound sleep Arthur ever has? Merlin gets up and reaches for a glassy-eyed Arthur, who immediately leans into the embrace. Merlin stands over him, and Arthur leans his head against Merlin’s stomach. Merlin feels such relief when Arthur’s arms wrap around his waist. Maybe he can’t fix it, but there is this. He can convince Arthur he is not alone. “I’m so sorry, darling. Maybe…maybe they’re okay.” Merlin had meant to sound convincing, but why would Uther have lied?

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to forgive myself or not.” Arthur mumbled into Merlin’s tunic. “I don’t know if I should ever be able to live without their ghosts to haunt me, without the memory of it all.” Merlin wants to say he should move on, but who is he to argue? Merlin thinks of his ghosts constantly. His failures and the deaths that they caused. Maybe to live without ghosts is to live without remorse. And Arthur is too kind to live without remorse. Instead of an answer, Merlin pets Arthur’s hair.

Arthur doesn’t spend very long in Merlin’s arms, pulling away and running his hands across his face.

“I can’t…I can’t focus on this now.” Arthur said suddenly, reaching for his cane and ignoring his breakfast. “I am King of Camelot. I need to focus on that, for now.” Merlin nods and steps back. “Would you draw me a bath, please? I can still feel some of the blood caked on.”

Merlin does as he’s asked, rushing to get the water. It’s silly, but now he’s afraid to leave Arthur alone for too long. When he returns, heart pounding from fear created in his mind, he finds Arthur, still sitting at his desk, waiting for the bath.

Merlin gives him a nod and forces himself to take a deep breath. As quietly as he can manage, he heats the water to Arthur’s preferred temperature. He helps Arthur into the bath, softly putting the cane down next to him. Merlin leaves the tray for now, hoping he can convince Arthur to eat something later in the day, and slowly goes around the room, beginning on his chores for the morning.

He understands that the druids’ fate is bothering him, but what about everything else? Morgana and Merlin have magic. His father tried to kill him. His father is dead. The Kingdom is his. Is he proccessing it all? If he is, he hasn’t said as much to Merlin.

“Merlin?” Arthur called out, startling Merlin from his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Would you…I know it sounds silly, but would you hum? Please?”

It’s such a soft request, but Arthur asks it as if Merlin will say no. Merlin is tempted to go and hum and wash Arthur himself and kiss the top of his head, but he can’t, so his response matches Arthur’s quiet tone.

“Of course, darling.”

When Arthur is out of the tub, it is as if he has transformed. His eyes still look a little too tired, and he leans heavily on his cane, but aside from those small, unnoticeable details, he looks much better. His eyes are more focused, his back less defeated and hunched over.

“I’ll need to be dressed in royal garb. The crown included. I’ll need to announce the passing or Uther’s death, but I’d like to speak with Morgana about it first.” Arthur’s voice is more firm and sure. “We’ll need to make funeral arrangements for him.”

“And a coronation for you.” Merlin added. Arthur, who had been looking at him, looked away for a moment.

“Yes, I…” He coughed, “I suppose that’s true.”

Merlin picked out Arthur’s best looking clothes, and helped change him slowly. He put his hair into place before placing the crown carefully atop. It’s not a crown, really. A silver circle with gold and white gems, placed like a band around the top of his head. It’s more of a royal headpiece, in Merlin’s opinion. When Arthur is crowned officially as King, it will be fancier, although Merlin doubts Arthur will wear it. The same way that he rarely wears this one.

Merlin finishes adjusting Arthur’s clothes and sweeps imaginary dust from his shoulders.

“Well? How do I look?” Arthur asked with a raised brow.

“Oh, gorgeous sire! So handsome and—” Merlin started, teasing.

“Oh, shut it. Let’s go find Morgana, hm?” Arthur cuts him off, but a small smile creeps on his face. Merlin nods and walks alongside him through the halls, to Morgana’s chambers.

Gwen answers it immediately with a smile.

“Oh! Come in, she’s just finishing breakfast.”

Arthur and Merlin walk in to see Morgana seated at her desk.

“Good morning.” She greets. She seems about to say something more, but holds her tongue.

Everything alright? Merlin asked.

I thought of perhaps calling him ‘your royal highness’ but. If he’s not doing well about the whole thing…

Merlin nodded, although it seems Arthur is embracing his position wholeheartedly.

“Good morning, Morgana. I was wondering if you could accompany me to the throne room?”

She’s standing in a moment, and an excited smile crosses her face before she puts on a more professional one.

“Oh! I mean, yes. That would be just fine.” She answers, although she shoots a look to Gwen before taking Arthur’s arm.

Morgana and Arthur walk ahead, and Gwen and Merlin trail behind, half-listening to their conversation.

“What do you suppose we should do about the announcement?” Arthur asked. Morgana responded, but Merlin was too busy gossiping to hear it.

“He’s really taking her seriously, then.” Gwen whispered.

“Of course he is! Her opinion is the only one Arthur ever believes in.” Merlin whispered back. Gwen seemed to blush on behalf of Morgana.

“It’s sweet. I think between the two of them, Camelot really will be better.”

“I think so too. Arthur was just working on a tax reduction for the farmers, and he wants to repeal the ban on magic.” Merlin said, looking at Arthur as he walked. He’s just so goodhearted, something about him that always rings out as the most absolute and real thing in Merlin’s life.

“Yes, that would be best. Better not to start worrying the Kingdom with theories of overthrow.” Arthur was responding.

“Oh, stop looking at him like that!” Gwen whispered with a laugh.

“I’m not doing anything!” Merlin defended, “Why don’t you stop drooling over Morgana, hm?”

“Hey!” She said, elbowing him. Merlin elbowed her back, and soon they were both in the middle of a pretend cat-fight.

“What are you two doing?” Arthur said. Merlin looked up to see that both Arthur and Morgana had turned around and seen them batting at each other.

“Nothing.” They responded at the same time, straightening up. Gwen smoothed her dress, and missed the fond look Morgana gave her before turning around again to continue their walk.

“That was your fault.” Merlin said.

“No, it wasn’t!” Gwen scoffed.

“Would you two behave?” Arthur reprimanded, though his voice was hiding a laugh. Gwen and Merlin went quiet for a while.

Morgana and Arthur decided to announce that Uther’s death was a heart attack. After all, the only ones who saw the body were the ones Arthur trusted most in the world. Morgana approved of his new tax plan, and an overturn of some of Uther’s knights. The ones they could spare, for now.

Morgana stopped the party for a moment.

“No-one will believe us when you’ve got fresh bruises like this.” She says, holding Arthur still. It’s a simple healing spell that Merlin had taught her, one that’s mostly meant for the obvious, skin-deep wounds. Papercuts and bruises, mostly. “There. That’s better.” She said, and they continued their walk.

“Didn’t we already see you two in the hallway this morning? Why was Morgana still in her room when we came to get her?” Merlin whispered to Gwen.

“She’d refused to bathe or eat until she’d gone to see Arthur’s condition. She was relieved to catch him in the hallway.” Gwen whispered back. “I think she felt awful about having been nearly too late to stop her premonition.” She added.

“She can get in line for that. I wasn’t even in the room!”

“That’s not your fault. I should’ve told you that morning, but Arthur was supposed to explain it—” She cut herself off. “Is he…How’s he feeling, by the way?”

“Better, I think. Between what his father had said to him, and our fight yesterday morning, I think it was just a bad day. I think he must have had a nightmare, too. He’d been so odd that morning.”

“I’m just glad he’s alright.” Gwen responded. “He’ll make a good King.”

Merlin didn’t respond, because his agreement was obvious. The Once and Future King of Camelot had arrived. And he’ll be not just a good King, but the greatest of them all. Not because of some prophecy, but because that’s who Arthur is. He’d been born to rule Camelot. Merlin sees it in the way he respects Morgana, and knows every servant’s name, and cares for the farmers. The way his instincts tell him who he can and can’t trust. Is Arthur good because of the prophecy? Or is the prophecy true because Arthur is good? Merlin thinks, and has always thought, it’s the latter. It’s very obviously the latter.

They reach the throne room.

“Gather the knights, Merlin, if you don’t mind?” Arthur asked as he sat on the throne. It had always looked altogether too big for Uther. But as Arthur sits in it, Merlin realizes how perfect a fit it is. As if the throne had been fitted for him. “They’ll probably be waiting on the field.”

Merlin nods. Arthur certainly is more commanding as King, his voice more sure. But Merlin doesn’t feel intimidated by it. Mostly he just feels proud.

“Merlin! We were just beginning to think Prince Arthur was skipping out on us!” Elyan called as Merlin approached. Merlin enjoys Elyan’s company. He’ll sometimes come out to the tavern with Gwaine or Percy. He and Leon are very good friends. He’s young compared to the rest, but a strong soldier. And he’ll always think highly of Elyan for the time he barked at knights who were messing with Merlin. It had been years ago, before the knights had learned how important he was to Arthur, and so Elyan had only done it out of kindness.

“Actually, he’s still inside. I need you to gather up all the knights. Into the throne room, if it can hold them all.” Elyan looks worried, but doesn’t ask further questions. He follows Merlin’s directions, and the knights walk toward the castle, two by two.

When they return, Merlin is unsure of where to stand. He usually stands behind Arthur, in the smaller chair that was deemed fit for a Prince. But now Morgana sits where Arthur used to be and no-one has ever stood behind the King—

“Merlin.” Arthur called out quietly, as the knights shuffled in. Merlin looked up to see Arthur waving him over. “Don’t leave me?” He whispered, voice unsteady for the first time since the bath.

“Never.” Merlin answered easily, standing beside his chair. Gwen stood behind Morgana’s.

“Good morning, all.” Arthur’s voice boomed out after the knights had settled. He stood, and Merlin could tell he was trying not to lean on his cane very much. “Last night, King Uther Pendragon suffered an attack of the heart. He went in his sleep, peacefully. He died as he deserved.” That line is clearly meant for Morgana, rather than the knights. If she had any questions about it, Arthur is clarifying for her. She is forgiven. “Burial arrangements will be made shortly, and an official coronation is in order. However, I have gathered you all to announce that I am now King of Camelot.” Arthur finished.

There is only a half-beat before the knights are chanting loudly.

“Long live the King! Long live the King!”

Merlin makes note of the knights who don’t seem relieved, the ones who seem reluctant to chant for Arthur. It’s all of the ones he’d expected.

“Training will be led by Sir Elyan for today, and I will elect a knight officially tomorrow.” Arthur said, then paused for a moment. “Also, Morgana Pendragon is now the official Advisor of the King. If I ever leave the castle, or am unavailable, all rulings will be made by her hand. She has my complete trust.”

He doesn’t say too much more, and dismisses the knights soon, informing them that speaking of this new change is encouraged. This makes sense. How many announcements of his dead father does he really want to make?

“How’d I do?” He whispered, after the knights had left. Gwen and Morgana are busy talking in the corner.

“You don’t need to ask me,” Merlin answered, “You should already know. You were born to be King.” Arthur nodded solemnly. “But you really were great.” He added, putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Really?” Arthur asked with a smile, like a child receiving a present.

“Yes, you dollophead!”

“Hey, I’m your King now!”

“Maybe,” Merlin responded, “But you’ll always be a prat.”

“That’s treason!” Arthur exclaimed, and Merlin laughed.

Arthur laughs, too, and it’s the biggest smile he’s seen on Arthur in days. Merlin’s hand does not leave his shoulder.

Chapter Text

Merlin’s days are busier after that. He and Arthur don’t see as much of each other, or at least, they don’t talk much. They can’t ever seem to find the time. But Merlin doesn’t mind, because he’s looking after Arthur from afar. It’s as if he’s seeing Arthur come to life for the first time.

Within a matter of days, Arthur has taken care of the knights, promoting Elyan, at least until Leon returns. He has stacks of new drafts; some to repeal old and unfair laws, some to instate new rulings for the protection of the people. He liberates prisoners who were tried unfairly, puts Morgana in charge of the Council.

Arthur has been rushing around the castle tackling everything that needs his attention without breaking a sweat. He writes draft after draft, coming up with new ways of helping his people. He usually tries to ask Merlin to read them, if he can spare a moment to wait for it. Therefore, this usually occurs altogether too early in the morning. Nowadays Arthur is already up and writing away at his desk when Merlin walks in, refusing breakfast and rushing his bath. Sometimes it happens late at night, when Arthur stays up far later than he used to.

Merlin wants to tell him to slow down, to breathe, but he knows Arthur can’t. He knows that Arthur won’t be able to find steady ground until his knights return with news of the camps. All of this needs to be dealt with, anyway. The best Merlin can do is be around at all times. Arthur hasn’t really acknowledged this. In fact, Merlin isn’t sure Arthur has even noticed. His tunnel vision only really includes the tasks at hand, the checks on his to-do list. Merlin doesn’t mind this, either, though. It’s nice watching him work so diligently, watching him trust his instincts and act on good values. Watching him fix up the Kingdom that Uther broke.

Camelot’s energy has been transformed seemingly overnight. The castle feels lighter, busier. The town feels livelier. It’s as if everyone is matching the optimism that Arthur has thrown into his leadership, rather than the hatred Uther used to rule with.

Morgana is easier to reach at this point than Arthur. Merlin continues helping her practice magic in the hours they can spare. She gets better at communicating in her mind when they’re further apart.

After a few days, Arthur calls a particular meeting with only a few knights in the room. Merlin recognizes them; They’re the ones who seemed resentful of Arthur being crowned. And a few of them are the ones who picked on Merlin, his first year in Camelot.

Arthur explained calmly, if not menacingly, that their titles have been stripped and that they are no longer royal knights of Camelot. Arthur had mentioned that this was a duty for today when Merlin had been helping him change, but he hadn’t expected it to be so brash!

One of the angrier knights, Frederick, attempts to challenge Arthur.

“You can’t just…strip our titles!” Frederick said.

“No? Well then, it’s a good thing you’re here to remind your King of his duties.” Arthur looked almost confused for a moment. “Oh, no, wait, I can just strip your titles! So I suppose you are not needed after all.” Merlin has to physically hide his startled laugh. Being King really has brought out Arthur’s sarcastic side.

“How dare you? Your father—”

“Is dead.” Arthur cut him off, and stood from his throne. He is leaning on a cane, but he stands tall and looks older, rougher, than he once had. The knight looks downright terrified. “My father is dead. I am now your King, and you will obey as such, knight or not. Speak another word out of turn and it’ll be banishment instead.” Merlin can’t hide his surprise. Not that Arthur being strong is surprising. But it seems the timid Prince he’d once been, the one scared to rule, is gone for good.

Merlin waits until they’re alone, later that night, to finally say something. He has to choose his words carefully, because Arthur doesn’t seem to have much time for conversation anymore. Even so, Merlin can’t help but tease him.

“You’re almost scary, as a King!” He said. Arthur pouts, which makes Merlin giggle. He goes back to polishing Arthur’s sword. He sits by the fireplace, and Arthur sits, unsurprisingly, at his desk.

“I am always scary!” Arthur argued, folding his arms. He leans back in his chair, seeming to relax for a moment. Merlin laughs. Arthur smiles, which Merlin hasn’t seen all day. It’s nice. It makes Merlin feel warm. Warm in a different way than the fire burning near him.

“Right, right. Whatever you say, darling.” Merlin conceded half-heartedly. Arthur returns to his usual, hunched over position, looking at the papers that scatter over his busy desk. He doesn’t actually start writing, though.

“When did you start calling me that?” Arthur asked, without looking up. His pen is still frozen above the paper, but his hand is trembling. The question takes Merlin by surprise, because he’d assumed the conversation had already ended. “And don’t bother insulting me again, I asked Gwen and she said you’ve never called her such a name.” Arthur looked up from his papers with a smile, as if to let Merlin know he was only teasing.

Except now this room is too small, and Merlin is remembering how crushed he’d been that now far-away morning, the feeling of being rejected. Don’t backtrack, he reminds himself. Just wait. Wait it out.

He ducks his head down, trying to think, trying to wait, trying to clear his head.

Arthur doesn’t seem to be moving on. So Merlin just takes a deep breath and confesses. Some of it, anyway.

“I…I would say it sometimes when you were asleep. When you were unconscious.” Oh, good, that doesn’t sound creepy at all! Merlin insults himself as he continues, “You seemed to calm down a little more when I was calling you that or petting your hair. It didn’t always work, because you were always having those nightmares, but it did sometimes. And I guess now that you’re awake it’s hard for me to shake it.” Merlin said. In truth, it’s more than one thing to Merlin. It’s a pet name, a term of endearment for someone he loves but cannot reach and will never stop waiting for. But it’s also a compliment for someone who deserves to receive more compliments.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Merlin is still staring at the sword in his lap but he can feel Arthur’s eyes on him. He waits for him to look away, to return to his paperwork, but he doesn’t.

“Well, good.” Merlin said finally, looking up for the first time. “Have to find some way of reminding you how loved you are, darling.”

Merlin is immediately glad he looked up when he did, because it’s an absolute joy watching Arthur’s face light up, his eyebrows shooting up and his eyes going wide. This is the face of someone who simply does not receive enough compliments. And…could it be? Could Gwen have been right? Is this the face of someone who might love him too?

Arthur clears his throat awkwardly and finally his gaze returns to his desk.

“Good. Alright. Yes.” He stuttered out in short, confused sentences.

They don’t say anything for a while after that, and Merlin forces himself to look busy polishing the sword. Even though what he really wants to do is stare at Arthur as he writes.

Merlin temporarily abandons the sword and walks around the room, finishing his nightly chores. Arthur does not make a move to go to the bed. Which is fine with Merlin. He can wait.

“Alright, Arthur, you have to eat your dinner.” Merlin had said as he folded Arthur’s clothes. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Please?” Arthur eats, albeit slowly, as he works.

Merlin speaks again when he’s polishing the window.

“Have you seen these stars?” Merlin asked. “They look so bright tonight.” Arthur looked pleasantly surprised, leaning back to look out the window.

“I’ve always liked the stars.” Arthur said quietly.

“Yes, I know, silly.” Merlin answered.

“What? How?”

“Because I know you.” He said simply. Arthur gave a wide smile and returned to his writing. Merlin returns to his seat by the fire, polishing an already cleaned sword.

Every once in a while Arthur will look up with a question or two, asking what Merlin thinks of a certain proposal or sentence. But overall their usual chatter has dissipated into working quietly.

Then, out of nowhere, after hours of barely interrupted silence, Arthur speaks.

“Will you show me your magic?”

Merlin’s head shoots up. Why would Arthur want to see it? Oh, that’s right. Because Merlin has been hiding the monster behind his smile, and Arthur doesn’t know any better.

Minutes pass as Merlin forgets how to do anything but stare at Arthur. He feels trapped in this eternal, frozen moment.

And then Arthur smiles, and Merlin melts.

“If you’d like.” He hears himself responding. Arthur nods and moves to sit across from him on the carpet. Merlin moves the sword away, placing it beside Arthur. Just in case.

For a moment Merlin doesn’t know what to do. He wants to show him something beautiful. But whenever Merlin thinks of beautiful, he thinks of Arthur.

Then Merlin remembers once, a very long time ago…He’d been in a cave, maybe, or by some rocks. And he’d summoned a butterfly from nowhere, and it was soft and sweet and simple. That was years ago, when Merlin hadn’t been so worn down. Back when genuine smiles were easier to come by. He tries to remember the spell. Except it hadn’t been a spell, really, but a manifestation. It had been a feeling.

Tha gaol agam ort. Seo mise. Seo cò mise.

He doesn’t cup his hands the way he once had, and so the magic finds another source to arrive from.

The fire sways to Merlin’s command, and it grows as it pours out over the room. Not in an evil way. Not to be destructive. Just to exist. Flaming butterflies and birds and fairies and snowflakes. Merlin feels his magic swirling around them, magnifying and vibrating with unabashed joy. Tiny dragons and arrows and stars made of fire dance around them, and Merlin’s body relaxes for the first time in what feels like years. The life doesn’t go out of him, the way one would expect when outputting so much energy. Instead his breaths become easier, his heart beats steadily. His magic laughs, giddy, drunk on the feeling of being free. Being fully, completely free. This has never happened before. Not once. Never had he performed useless magic inside the castle. Even inside Camelot's walls, really! Always trapped, smashing down a part of himself he has grown to hate. But now, Arthur, his Arthur, asks to see it! Arthur wants to see this dark, dangerous part of him. His magic spreads its wings with the birds it creates, and for the first time in a long time, he feels…Merlin doesn’t know the word for it. He can’t place it. The only word that comes to mind is happy. Merlin feels happy.

This part of him that he has forced down has come to the surface, and Arthur accepts him for it. Merlin glances at Arthur, as if checking to see if this assumption is still true.

The magic fades, disrupted as he catches Arthur staring at him, eyes-wide.

Merlin is about to start apologizing, but Arthur talks first.

“You’re lovely.” He said.

Merlin doesn’t know what to do with this. His two deepest beliefs are colliding. That Merlin is evil, and Arthur is so inherently good. But if Arthur is good, he cannot love someone that is evil. He would not allow someone evil to exist in his life. And so these two things cannot exist together.

Arthur returns to his desk and Merlin fights the urge to ask him to stay. But Arthur has to attend to his duties, and so the dream-like moment is broken.

Even so, Merlin doesn’t leave. Arthur still refuses to go to bed. But that’s okay. Merlin really doesn’t mind waiting.

And so he waits, and waits, and waits.

He doesn’t really know what for. But Merlin has often found himself waiting for something.

When Merlin finally coaxes Arthur to bed, he receives a faint calling in the back of his mind. Morgana. Must be. He’s pretty far from her room, so the voice is faint. But she’s definitely getting better at it.

Merlin finishes tucking Arthur into bed, swiping his hair into place and blowing out the candles. He bids Arthur goodnight and maybe throws a ‘darling’ in there for good measure. Then he walks to Morgana’s room and knocks on her door quietly.

“Was that you?” He asked, when she opened the door.

“It worked?” She asked excitedly. “Yes!” Morgana cheered a little with a punch of her fist.

“Yes, yes, ever so proud of you. I’m tired. What did you want?” Merlin teased. Morgana rolled her eyes.

“How is Arthur doing?” She asked.

“I think he’s doing wonderfully as King.” Merlin answered honestly.

“Obviously. I just mean, he’s looking a little unsteady on his feet.” Merlin scratched the back of his neck.

“He’s up before dawn every morning, and stays up late at his desk. He only just went to bed a few minutes ago! But I think he’ll be better when the knights return.”

Morgana nodded.

“Been more than a few days now, hasn’t it?” She said, a bit of worry creeping into her voice.

“I’m sure they’ll be here tomorrow morning.” Merlin responded. He doesn’t know if he believes this, but he’s told Arthur so a half-dozen times over, so his voice is steady.

“If they’re not, try to convince him into a break, will you?”

“Why me?” Merlin half-whines. Morgana rolls her eyes again.

“You’re the only one he ever listens to!” She responds.

“Are you sure? Little birdie told me you’re his official advisor now…” Merlin said. Morgana breaks out into the biggest smile he’d ever seen her wear.

“I am!” She squeaked, “Can you believe it?! Advisor to the King!” She coughed and lowered her tone several octaves, as if trying to sound bored: “Advisor to the King.”

“You deserve it. You know this castle better than anyone else.” Merlin congratulated.

“I’m going to tell Arthur you said that.” She bragged. Merlin laughed and gave her a fake punch to the arm.

“Can I go to sleep now, Madame Prophet?” He answered.

“Hmm…I’ll allow it.” She joked.

“Oh, how gracious of you!”

He turned away, exhausted and entirely too ready for bed.

Goodnight, Merlin!

Get out of my head, witch!

Merlin hears her laughter echoing down the hallway as he leaves.

He falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, and the grayness of his dreams are interrupted by flashes of firelight, echoing in his mind like a favorite memory.

Chapter Text

Arthur has refused to sit down all morning. Merlin doesn’t miss the disappointed look Arthur wore when they checked to see if Leon, Gwaine, and Percival had returned.

They hadn’t.

Merlin can barely tear him away from a window, and when he isn’t at one, he’s pacing. Merlin has rarely seen him like this. He remembers the conversation with Morgana and knows she’ll take care of the castle. Merlin decides in a moment that it’s time for Arthur to get out of the castle.

“They will be home soon, Arthur.” Merlin said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“It’s just hard for me to focus on it all, when I’m still wondering.” Arthur admitted, eyes still focused on the window. “They can’t be dead. They just can’t be.”

Merlin tugs Arthur away from the window, then moves his grip from Arthur’s elbow to his spare wrist, the other steady on the cane. Arthur barely seems to register it. Merlin is determined to center him.

“C’mon. I know how we should spend our day.”

The fact that Arthur barely protests tells Merlin how much he needs the escape. He needs a moment away from worry. Morgana can handle the castle. Arthur is still healing, and his wounds are deeper than ever.

Merlin leads Arthur out of the castle, empty basket in hand, heading down to the people.

“We’re going to town?” Arthur asked. Merlin smiled.

“No-one to stop you now, hm?” That sounded insensitive, even though it was true, so Merlin added, “The people should see the kindness of their new King. They all adore you, but going to say hello now will show them your heart.” Everyone is excited to finally have Arthur take the throne. Anyone with eyes can see what a great King he’ll be. And maybe even the ones without eyes, too.

Arthur stops walking, staring intensely at the ground. Merlin gives him a moment, watching as Arthur works through something in his mind. When he looks up, he looks younger. Lighter. Arthur gives that boyish, child-like smile and they continue their walk into town.

Arthur gives a long glance to the stonemason’s shop, so Merlin pulls him there first.

“Well, good morning, Sire!” A lanky older man greets them as they open the door. Merlin looks at Arthur to see a wide smile crossing his face. Merlin can’t place a name to the man in front of them, but Arthur greets him like an old friend.

“Good morning, Mr. Jameson! How are you on this fine day?”

“Oh, I’m just fine, Sire! It’s been a busy morning, always is on a sunny day like this, really. But I never mind the business.” The man, Mr. Jameson, stutters a bit, but seems almost relaxed. “And the Mrs. is doing well, too! She’s just resting.”

“And what of the baby? How’s the little one doing?” Arthur asked. The man answers, but Merlin has stopped listening to the conversation and spends his time staring in awe at Arthur. Merlin can’t help but swoon. How does Arthur remember the names of every person he meets? How does he know this family has a baby? This is what makes a great King.

“But anyway, Sire, I am pleased to have you personally in my shop once again. We were all so worried to hear you had fallen ill.” Mr. Jameson looked genuinely worried.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.” Arthur stammered, his surprise evident. “I’m getting much better now.”

“So, what can I do for you, Sire? Another stone, like last time?” Last time? Merlin can’t remember a time when they’d stopped in for a stone.

“No, no, just stopping by.” Arthur said quickly, “I won’t bother you with anything today. I only wanted to stop in and check on how the baby is faring.”

“Oh, thank you Sire! Thank you! We really are quite well!” Arthur nodded. “Oh! Here,” Mr. Jameson moves to the back of his shop, disappearing for a moment before reappearing with a small stone ring in his hand. He holds it out to Arthur with a shy smile, “Take this, if you would, Sire. As a token of good luck.”

Merlin glances at the beautifully carved stone ring, but the far more beautiful thing is Arthur’s baffled expression and almost teary eyes. Merlin watch as he looks from the ring to Mr. Jameson with bewilderment and surprise.

“I took a bit of inspiration from the stone you commissioned. I engraved it for you when we were all praying for your wellness. I assumed you like those flowers, to have asked for them specifically.” Mr. Jameson said nervously. Merlin could hear the words unsaid, too. The words everyone quietly agreed on. Thank you for being good to us, Merlin could hear, you’ll be a great King.

“Thank you, Sir.” Arthur’s voice cracked as he spoke, and Merlin caught the way Mr. Jameson looked shocked at the title. “This is beautiful. I do not deserve such kindness. We must be on our way, but please know you have my thanks.” Merlin gave a deep nod as Arthur gave Mr. Jameson more gold than he needed to.

Outside, Arthur twisted the ring that now sat on his pointer finger. Merlin could make out the tiny, detailed flowers on it.

“You gonna tell me about that?” Merlin asked.

“These are the flowers of the druids.” Arthur explained, holding his ring out. “Commonly used in their medicines and herbs and such. I doubt he knew that, of course, and just thought I liked them. Which I do.”

“Oh.” He waited for Arthur to continue, to explain how the stonemason knew which flowers Arthur liked. Or maybe explain the “stone” that Mr. Jameson had been referencing, but Arthur doesn’t say another word about it. “Well, it suits you.” Merlin said finally. Which is true. Arthur now wears two rings, one more silver, and one thin and made of stone, handcrafted. Merlin looks at Arthur’s hands for a little too long.

The next shop is Benny’s.

Merlin greeted the man with a smile.

“Merlin! Was beginning to think you forgot about me!” Benny said, his dimples accenting his round cheeks.

“With your prices? Never, old friend!”

"Morning, Sire!” Benny’s voice calmed a little as he greeted the King, but only slightly.

“Hello, Benny.” It took a long while to convince Arthur to refer to Benjamin so informally, but the shopkeeper really did prefer it, and this eased Arthur’s mind.

“Can I getcha something?” Benny asked.

“Oh, we were just popping in to check on you.” Merlin answered.

“Well, I’m glad to see ya! If you would wait one moment, my lord,” Benny went to a drawer and took out a small box, “This is for ya, if you wanted it…” Benny opened the box to reveal a red and gold handkerchief, with the Pendragon crest on it. Merlin watched Arthur take in a deep breath.

Ha! Merlin knew the people loved him, of course, but he has a feeling every place they stop will have similar presents for Arthur. What a great way to remind Arthur how loved he is. Not just by Merlin. By everyone. (Although by Merlin most of all. But that’s beside the point.)

“Oh, Benny,” Arthur looked up, “Thank you. Really. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s an honor, Sire.” Benny responded formally. Although he sent a wink Merlin’s way when Arthur looked down. Merlin chuckled. This is going to be a great day.

The flower shop had a carefully crafted bouquet, with Acanthus, Purple and Blue Irises, Amaryllis, White Camellia, and Goldenrod. They explained something about the language of flowers, but Merlin doesn’t really keep track of that stuff anyway and is far too busy enjoying the blush on Arthur’s cheeks.

The woodcarver gives Arthur a small, carved, wooden token as a piece of good luck. The baker has a fresh loaf that he refuses coins for. Arthur leaves a few on the counter when he isn’t looking. The ironsmith had crafted a few new daggers.

As the day goes on, Merlin’s basket gets heavier and heavier. New quality candles, a waterskin, horseshoes, a new belt, a silk pouch, more and more. Each merchant has gifts for the new King, explaining how they’d made it when he was ill, or in preparation for the coronation, or as tokens of good luck. Arthur and Merlin have gone into town often, and every once in a while a merchant will offer something or another, but never like this. Arthur seems completely taken aback by each gift, and that youthful smile of his only grows as the day goes on.

They decide to end their day in town because the sun will be setting soon and Arthur is starting to run out of gold coins. They make one last stop at the jeweler. Lisa is the name that pops into Merlin’s mind, but he isn’t sure and doesn’t want to test it. He only ever comes here with Arthur, and Arthur is never asking something for himself.

Arthur instead describes a charm bracelet he’d like commissioned. By the description of the charms, and from past orders, this is clearly meant for Morgana. Arthur has been giving her ‘anonymous’ gifts for years. Merlin is pretty sure she knows exactly who’s sending them, but everyone finds it very sweet. Morgana has never had anyone give her presents before, and Arthur just wants her to know that she is loved. So everyone stays quiet about Morgana knowing, and Merlin teases Arthur about what a big softie he is.

Merlin is teasing Arthur about this very thing as they leave the shop, only for Arthur to stop their walk. He looks at Merlin, really looks at him, and it makes Merlin almost squirmy under his gaze.

“Do you want anything? Before we go. Anything you like.”

It doesn’t really sound like a question. More like…like Arthur is asking something else entirely. Although Merlin doesn’t really know what that might be, so he stammers out the first thing he can think of.

“Bread. Gaius said we need bread.”

And so back to the baker they go. Although Arthur stops in the flower shop again, too, asking for pansies, and stops at the bronze mason for a small pin that Merlin had glanced at earlier. Merlin wonders if Arthur had seen Merlin staring at this pin, or if Arthur knew that pansies were Merlin’s favorite flower. Merlin wonders if perhaps it was just Arthur’s intuition. Both things feel far fetched. And then, finally, they buy another loaf of bread from the baker. Arthur hands all three things to Merlin.

“Here you are, darling. Bread as promised.”

Merlin’s heart picks up. Darling. This is the first time Arthur has ever said it back. In fact, Merlin had never even thought of it as something Arthur could say back. And yet here he is, ripping the air from Merlin’s lungs so gently that Merlin would gladly never breathe again. How can Arthur be so…so…Arthur? Merlin wishes he were better at words, better at conveying how deeply this one name has settled into his soul. Is there a better way to say thank you? Is there a way to say thank you with the outline of I love you?

Merlin nods because can’t convert his thoughts into words. He places the pin carefully on his neckerchief.

Merlin looks at Arthur as they walk back to the castle. He just looks and looks. Merlin doesn’t really know what he’s looking for. Maybe for some flaw. Maybe for some sign that Merlin hasn’t gone mad.

The truth is, of course, Merlin doesn’t mind being mad about him. He loves Arthur, more than anything, more than anyone. Arthur could fail or fade or grow or wither and Merlin wouldn’t care. He would gladly go mad with tenderness at the sight of him.

Chapter Text

Arthur is, yet again, already at his desk when Merlin enters with breakfast. The bags beneath his eyes are getting worse and Merlin doesn’t know if it’s his worry for the camps, or his nightmares, or the stress of being King. It feels as though there’s nothing Merlin can do to help.

“Please eat your breakfast, darling.” Merlin said, not bothering to greet him.

“I will.” Arthur answered, not looking up from the parchment on his desk. Merlin frowned, and decided that enough is enough.

“Alright. That’s enough.” Merlin pulled Arthur up as he spoke, carrying most of his weight since he hadn’t bothered to grab Arthur’s cane. He placed Arthur on the side of the bed that faces the window, and then went and grabbed his breakfast tray, ignoring Arthur’s protests. “You are going to sit here with me. You are going to eat your breakfast. You are going to enjoy the sunrise and shake your bad dreams off. Everyone else can wait, alright?”

Arthur’s annoyed look softened the longer Merlin spoke, and by the end he gave a little nod, reaching for the plum.

“How’d you know I had another nightmare?” Arthur asked as he ate.

“I know all your faces.” Merlin answered, looking over at Arthur with a small smile. Arthur doesn’t return the look, though, too busy staring out the window.

“Merlin! Merlin, it’s them! It’s them, look!” He said, attempting to push himself off the bed. Merlin looked out to see three figures about to reach the castle walls. It was them. It had to be. He raced to the desk to grab Arthur’s cane.

“C’mon, then!” Merlin exclaimed, helping Arthur get up properly from the bed.

Arthur raced out the door, down the stairs, and out of the castle as fast as he could. Well, as fast as a man with a limp and a cane can. He completely ignored Merlin’s warnings to slow down, but Merlin understood why.

Gwaine is the first off his horse, racing toward them with a huge smile on his face. Merlin immediately felt a rush of relief. For the druids, of course, but more so for Arthur.

“They’re alive!” Gwaine shouted, his arms outstretched in celebration. Leon and Percy dismount their horses a little more calmly.

Merlin put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he watched him process this. He’s pretty sure Arthur had assumed them dead. Why wouldn’t they be?

“Every single camp lives, Arthur.” Leon said as he joined them. “Elrand contacted each that she knew of, all alive and well.” Arthur places his free hand on his shoulder, on top of where Merlin’s rests. Merlin looks down at it and can’t hear anything even though he should be focusing on what everyone else is talking about.

Percy says something, and Arthur moves his hand over his heart. Merlin could feel him shaking a little, but released his shoulder as Gwaine moved to give Merlin a hug.

“Arthur?” Gwaine whispered in the hug.

“He’s alright. Promise.” Merlin whispered back.

“And look at you! Last we saw you, princess, you were napping on Gaius’ table.” Gwaine teases as he pulls away, though Merlin can hear the shake in his voice.

“Yes, yes, I’m alive, and I’m King, and Merlin has magic, and Morgana does too. A lot of changes have come to Camelot while you four have been on your little stroll.” Arthur said everything so calmly and jokingly that Merlin had to take a moment to process it. His mouth drops at the same time as Leon and Percy’s.

“About time you figured it out, princess!” Gwaine answered, seemingly unaffected by the news.

“I didn’t know about Morgana.” Leon half-questioned, and Percy nodded in agreement. Sorry, is Merlin the only one shocked by how casual Arthur just announced everything that’s been going on? What’s next, Merlin admitting that he’s secretly darkness embodied and also that he’s madly in love with Arthur?

Well, according to Gwen, everyone knows that last bit.

“Better to discuss these things in private.” Arthur said in a hushed tone. Merlin looked around nervously and they all retreated to the great hall.

“Merlin, would you fetch Morgana, and Gwen, too, please?” Merlin nodded and sat down with a confident smile.

Morgana! They’ve returned! Merlin called out in his mind. His magic stretches far, across the castle and up to her room. Morgana’s response is a little weaker, still working on the ranged responses.

Are they…is everyone…

The druids live. We are waiting for you and Gwen in the great hall.

“She’s on her way, and has Gwen with her.” Merlin said to Arthur, after a whisper of agreement from Morgana.

She must have run all the way to the great hall, because she arrives within the minute, a panting Gwen behind her.

Morgana immediately goes to shake the hands of Gwaine, Leon, and Percival.

“I am so glad to hear they’re alive. Thank you. Thank you.” She said, relief evident in her voice as she looked at each of them, before taking her seat to Arthur’s right. Gwen sat beside her.

“How did you…” Gwaine began, but Arthur smiled as an idea struck him.

“Like Melian!” He said. Merlin raised an eyebrow, trying to recall the name. Melian…The little girl from the camp he saved. The one where Arthur slept well. “You’ve been talking in your minds!” Arthur finished. Merlin laughs alongside Morgana. Arthur doesn’t have any judgment in his voice, because he’s Arthur, so why would he?

“So, you’ve got magic too, then?” Leon asked, looking at Morgana.

“Indeed, Sir Leon. And I’m not sure if Arthur got the chance to tell you, but I’m the one that killed the King.” Morgana said calmly. There is only a beat of silence before Gwaine lets out a whoop. The whole table turns to look at him.

“What?” Gwaine shrugged, “He was the worst.”

“Off his rocker.” Percival added.

“And trying to kill Arthur, right? That’s how you ended up back on Gaius’ table?” Leon questioned. Arthur nods. “Why?”

“He said that they had found the druid camps we claimed to have burned, and that they tortured the druids, and that the druids called me their Once and Future King.” Arthur said. Gwen hadn’t mentioned this in her recap of the events, and Merlin can’t help the sound of surprise that leaves his throat.

“You never told me that bit, Arthur.” Merlin said.

“Which bit?” Arthur asked.

“Your title! I didn’t know you knew it.”

“I didn’t know you knew it, either.” Arthur shrugged.

“I’m magic, clotpole. Of course I know it.” Merlin cuffed Arthur over the head lightly.

Arthur. The Once and Future King. He doesn’t seem to have any opinion on the title. But maybe it’s true for Arthur in the same way that it is true for Merlin: Glaringly obvious and undeniable, because that’s just who Arthur is.

Merlin takes a quiet but deep inhale at the sudden realization of how easy it was to joke about his magic with Arthur. How lightly the words had slipped off his tongue. For a moment, it was as if there wasn’t anything wrong with him. For a moment, Merlin’s hands were filled with fire—The kind that warms children telling ghost stories, the kind in lanterns used by lovers meeting in the dark, the kind that dances around a room because a Prince had asked to see. Not dangerous, not evil. Something simple and beautiful and good.

The conversation that follows at the table is intense. More questions are asked than answered. If the camps are alive, why would Uther lie? Why had the visiting King and Queen lied about finding them? How did they know Arthur’s true title, if they hadn’t found the camps? If it had been orchestrated by the visiting royalty, why turn Uther against his son? Surely they’d need to kill both Arthur and Uther in order to take the throne.

There is a point in the conversation where Arthur explains a piece of Uther’s final revelations. His admittance that he had never planned to give Arthur the throne. Merlin reaches for Arthur’s hand under the table. Arthur holds tightly to it, as if it is all that keeps him grounded. When the table begins to wonder if Uther had been charmed, Arthur makes a light joke about how little convincing it would’ve taken. Merlin would have chuckled along, if it hadn’t been for the deathly tight grip Arthur had on his hand under the table.

Arthur hasn’t said anything about it, but Uther’s final insults are eating at him. Arthur had sometimes admitted, what feels like forever ago, how he might never be ready to rule. It must be painful to know that his father agreed. Of course, Merlin knows that Uther was the one to put such ideas in Arthur’s head in the first place.

Merlin doesn’t say this, though. Arthur has suffered enough. Instead he holds Arthur’s hand, as tightly as he can, until Arthur is ready to let go.

Merlin doesn’t interject much. He’d barely seen the King and Queen the few times that they’d visited the castle; he can barely recall their names. On top of this, Merlin hadn’t seen or heard anything that had happened in the great hall that night. If he’d have been there, he could probably confirm whether or not Uther was charmed. He has far more experience than Morgana in this particular area, seeing as how many attacks on Arthur’s life have had that variable. Charmed or possessed. Sometimes it was just for revenge. Merlin has gotten pretty good at figuring which of the three it is.

After a while the conversation, which did nothing more than compile theories, begins to dwell. Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s hand and stands, leaning on his cane.

“Before you all take your leave, a few announcements are in order.” Merlin doesn’t know what Arthur is about to say, although he can guess, based on their late night conversations these past few nights.

“Firstly, Leon, I no longer have the time to train the knights each day. You will now act as Commander of the troops, and lead their training as you see fit. You will be able to appoint your seconds as you so choose, although the two men beside you are the best I know.” Leon looked overjoyed at the promotion. He deserved it, too. He’s always been Arthur’s most loyal follower. Not that Gwaine and Percy aren’t loyal, of course. But Gwaine had defied Arthur a few times, standing against the crown for causes he believed in. Usually for magic and sometimes for Merlin. This is fine for a higher level knight, fine for a friend, but not for a Commander, who must be in step with the King. And as for Percy…he seems content as is. Unlike Leon, he’s never shown any desire to obtain a higher rank. It was by chance that he became so close to the now King, and it seems he’s perfectly happy as is.

“Thank you, Sire.” Leon said professionally, despite the huge smile that could not leave his face.

“Gwen.” Arthur continued, turning his attention to her. She blushes at the attention, unprepared. “I have no intention of removing you from Morgana’s side, but I think your days as handmaiden are done, if you don’t mind. I would hope for you to help her in any and all documents and doings, as Aid to the Advisor of the King. Does that sound alright?” Morgana had mentioned this idea when they’d been practicing magic together, on a day when Gwen had been busy. Merlin had agreed, even though his opinion didn’t mean much. She must’ve talked to Arthur about it. Good. Gwen is clever and so very smart. Her gentleness has not dampened her cunningness or bravery.

“Also, everyone sitting at this table is considered my equal, and should be considered as each other’s. No one is above another, and as such there is no need to refer to me as my title. I trust each of you with my life, and your opinion holds much weight with me.” Arthur glances at Merlin, which catches him off-guard. At the end of the day, he’s still just a servant. A friend, a confidant, a protector, yes. But still just a servant. Which Merlin doesn’t mind. Someone like him probably shouldn’t be in a position of power. “Everyone here has my utmost respect and trust. Do not take this lightly.” He seemed to stop a moment, then added, “Also, and this is important, if you ever can’t find me, ask Morgana. She’s always second in charge.”

Merlin looks at Morgana to see her small, surprised smile. She looks down a little, at her lap. Arthur had already publicly appointed her, but this felt different. More important, maybe. A reassurance of trust between the two.

Arthur bows deeply as they all depart, and Merlin walks beside him.

“No new special title for me, then?” He teased as they headed for the throne room.

“Not yet.” Arthur responded simply. Merlin looked over at him.

“Yet?” He asked. Arthur returned his look, their eyes meeting for a moment too long. His brows furrowed for a moment, and then he gave a small, almost sad smile, turning away.

“No. Not yet, darling.” He said.

Nothing as eventful happens for the rest of the day. Arthur sits on his throne for a while, but eventually they retire to his room. He works on his many papers, and Merlin pretends to do chores for a while before Arthur asks him to review something. Merlin brings Arthur’s dinner up to him, and makes him take a break to eat it. It isn’t as hard to coax food into him now that he knows the druids are safe.

Merlin doesn’t see Gwen until the following morning when they are fetching their breakfast trays.

“Weren’t you promoted?” He teased, “What are you still doing down here?”

“Oh, like I’d skip out on our best time to gossip!” She answered, although he sensed something behind it. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, alright, fine,” Gwen admitted, “I don’t want her to replace me! What if she starts letting someone else brush her hair, and help her out of her nightmares? What if she starts calling someone else ‘love’ and what if she doesn’t need me at all anymore?”

Merlin starts laughing, the way Gwen had when he’d been having a meltdown in the supply closet.

“You silly thing. She loves you! She’s in love with you. Anyone with eyes can see it. Someone else will be doing the chores, but no-one could replace you, Gwen.” He said.

“Gah! I don’t know. One moment our hands are brushing and the next she’s on the other side of the room saying she can prepare for bed on her own!” Gwen said.

“What? Did that really happen?”

“Last week! We didn’t talk about it after. We never do. But she started this, by calling me ‘love’ and saying I’m pretty and telling just me and no-one else about her premonitions.”

“Wow, is this how I sound when I talk about Arthur?” Merlin wondered aloud. “How embarrassing.”

“Hey, we’re focusing on my thing right now!” Gwen said, crossing her arms.

“Sorry, sorry. You are very pretty though.” Merlin said. Gwen gave a small smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Fine, I forgive you. I don’t know, though. If I can even be a…whatever it’s called.”

“An Aid to the Advisor.” Merlin said, even though he’s sure Gwen had it memorized by now, running the title over and over again in her mind.

“Aids can still pick up breakfast trays! And besides, without me here how are you ever going to know Arthur’s schedule?” Gwen stalled.

“Oh, that’s a good point. Never mind all the other stuff. You’ll have to stay a handmaiden forever.” He said sarcastically. Gwen nodded as if making her mind up. “I was teasing, Gwen.”

“No, no, I’m meant to be a handmaiden. I don’t even know how to be…whatever it is!” She declared, reaching for the breakfast tray.

“Aid to the Advisor.” Merlin said again. “You should really just talk to her.”

“Oh, like how you talk to Arthur?” She asked, a little too sweetly.

“I thought we were talking about your thing!” He defended. She sighed.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll talk to her.” She promised, walking away.

“Liar.” Merlin answered, making her turn her head to glare at him. He stuck his tongue out in return and she turned away again with a smile. Merlin picked up his tray, grateful for Gwen. Their friendship doesn’t feel forced or fake. And now that Morgana has magic, he’s finally sure that Gwen really hadn’t been pretending to be his friend all this time. It’s a little sad that he had never been sure of it before.

Merlin creates the plum before entering Arthur’s chambers. He expects to see him at his desk, but Arthur is still in bed. Good. Merlin tiptoes to the desk to place down the tray. He almost doesn’t want to risk opening the curtains, but Arthur has slept through the sunlight plenty of times. Merlin sits at the desk awhile, letting Arthur sleep. He needs it. He’s been up too early and stayed up too late these past few days.

Arthur says something in his sleep and Merlin looks up from his hands. From where he sits he can make out Arthur’s shift from calm, and Merlin is sure that his brows have knit together.

“Arthur?” Merlin calls out softly, walking slowly toward him..

“No. No. No, please…” Arthur murmured. Merlin sits on the bed beside Arthur.

“Arthur, darling, it’s alright. Everything is alright.” Arthur neither quiets nor wakes. Merlin pets his hair, but Arthur shows no reaction. Merlin leans forward, trying more desperately to wake him now.

“I should’ve woken you. Everything is alright, I promise.” Still nothing. Merlin lightly shakes Arthur now. “Darling, it’s alright. It’s okay. You’re alright.” Finally Arthur seems to stir, and after a moment his eyes open.

Merlin realizes how close he’d gotten in his worry. He pulls back a little.

“Oh, hey, there you are.” He said, still lightly ruffling with Arthur’s hair.

“Hi.” Arthur said, clearly still trying to wake himself from whatever horrors he’d seen.

“Bad one last night?” Merlin asked, even though he already knew the answer. Arthur gave a small nod, frowning, and then buried his face in his hands.

“Count to three, will you?” Arthur asked. His voice was rough, as if he’d been yelling, but his tone was so gentle Merlin wanted to hold him and cradle him back to sleep. Merlin nodded, realizing a moment later that Arthur couldn’t see him, eyes still covered with his hands.

“One.” He said softly. He heard Arthur take a deep inhale.

“Two.” Arthur sighed, finally removing his hands, although his eyes were still tightly shut.

“Three.” Arthur’s eyes opened and he launched upward, and Merlin, unprepared, jerked back.

“Thank you, Merlin. I know you seem to do that a lot.” Arthur said softly, now fully upright. He reached for his cane.

“Oh, it’s really no trouble.” Merlin said. This is true. He really doesn’t mind. He hates that Arthur has nightmares at all, but he’s glad he can be here to soothe or wake him. Arthur stands with the help of Merlin and his cane. Merlin waits until they’ve made it to his desk to continue. “Are you alright?”

Arthur blinks at him, expression unchanged. He looks down at his tray, but doesn’t reach for anything.

“We’ll need another meeting today of everyone in attendance yesterday. I’d prefer it just after Leon finishes with training. Would you let everyone know?” Arthur asked, his tone empty. Not sad, but hollow. “Please.”

Merlin wishes he’d open up, tell him about the nightmares, or let Merlin help with sorting through the whiplash that had been this past week. But Arthur’s tired eyes are the only answer Merlin receives.

“Sure. I'll leave now to let everyone know and return with water for your bath?” Merlin asked, giving up. He’s not angry or disappointed. It isn’t his place to demand Arthur tell him about everything. He just wishes he could help him somehow.

The trip to get water is quiet, but quick. Merlin doesn’t waste any time. He doesn’t want to leave Arthur all alone with his thoughts. Mostly he doesn’t like leaving Arthur alone at all. He’s been absent for far too many attacks these days.

“Can I ask you something?” Arthur said, after Merlin had finished pouring the pails into the tub.

“Of course.”

“Why do you still carry up the water? Why go fetch my breakfast tray?” Arthur asked. Merlin tilted his head. It’s still his job, isn’t it? Arthur holds up the now eaten plum. “If you can conjure it from nothing, why not do everything that way?”

“Oh.” It’s an innocent enough question. Merlin has too many answers to this question, but couldn’t possibly begin to explain them.

“Habit, I suppose.” He answered finally. This much is true. He isn’t used to doing magic around Arthur. He doesn’t know what to do with the freedom it fills him with. “And energy, perhaps. You’re always nearly getting killed, I’d rather save my magic for that.” He tried to tease, hoping to move the subject away from this, hoping to talk about anything else.

“So it’s limited?” Arthur pressed.

“No, not…limited. Not really.” Merlin answers honestly, going to sit on the end of Arthur’s bed. “I was born with magic. It’s not something I always mean to do. It’s sort of always just…there. Under my skin, a piece of me.” He said quietly, admitting something he probably shouldn’t. His next words are quieter, and he can’t look up from the floor. “I’m not sure I could ever really run out of it.”

Except he is sure. There is no running out of it. There is no running away from it. It’s here, always, waiting.

Arthur nodded, then returned to the many papers that now live on his desk. Merlin, almost emboldened, stretches out a hand to cast his spell. He never has before, of course. He tries to make a show of it, but the words come out quiet and timid, barely louder than his previous secret spells.

Blàth. He said simply. It’s all he could manage, the bravery he’d had a moment ago dying in his throat.

“What was that for?” Arthur asked, looking back up just as Merlin lowered his arm.

“Heating the water the way you like. It’ll stay like that ‘till you’re done.” Merlin answered, feeling naked under Arthur’s gaze.

“Would you do it again?”

“What for?” Merlin asked, finally looking at Arthur.

“I missed it the first time.” He responded, sounding disappointed.

“I only heated the water, darling. It’s not all that impressive.” Merlin said, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“But I missed it!” Arthur whined.

“Missed what?” Merlin asked. There’s nothing special about it.

“I missed your—” Arthur cut himself off. There’s nothing special about it. There’s only something dark and—“I missed your eyes. They turn gold. It’s the best part.”

Merlin’s endless internal loathing falls silent. He didn’t know there was a ‘best part'. He didn’t know Arthur had already decided on a ‘best part’. He doesn’t know what to do with it. His tongue feels dry but his lungs feel as though they’ve been filled with hope. He blinks and feels tears forming in his eyes. He doesn’t know why such a short sentence made him feel whole.

“Thank you.” He tried to sound firm, but his voice cracked. “You’ll see them all the time though, if you pay attention. I really use it for most of my chores.” He consoled.

“Sounds pretty lazy to me.” Arthur teased.

“It’s called being resourceful!” Merlin teased back, simultaneously relieved and disappointed that this part of the conversation had ended.

Merlin helps Arthur into the bath and tries to sort through why the conversation had affected him so much.

It takes a while, but on their way to the great hall, he figures it out.

For the first time, probably ever, his magic made him feel something new. Arthur’s compliment had made him feel pretty. Like his magic, and Merlin, were something beautiful.

Chapter Text

It is decided that the King of Camelot would extend a vague invitation to the royals that visited the night of Uther’s attack, sure that they are somehow involved. Because they left before Arthur was even off Gaius’ table, they don’t know that Uther was the one to die—That their plan had failed. So the letter was sent out, the trap was set, and the truth about Queen Aviana and King Stephan—Gwen made Merlin memorize the names—would be found out at the end of the week.

The days fly by, Merlin glued to Arthur’s side. He’s still busy, but time seems to have finally caught up with him. He’s stopped rushing so much, and Merlin can guess why. He doesn’t have to though, because Arthur tells him one night when they’re reviewing documents together.

Dinner has been eaten, the sun has long since set. The fire rages on but as the hours pass the candles grow smaller and smaller. The desk was too crowded for all of the pages, so Merlin and Arthur face each other, sitting cross-legged on opposite sides of the bed.

“What do you think of this one?” Arthur would ask. Merlin would read them and make notes and Arthur would have to redraft, and Merlin would read the whole thing again. Neither of them complained though. Merlin wouldn’t dare, because these late nights will always be his favorite thing.

Their work only stopped when Merlin yawned.

“Tired?” Arthur asked, clearly stifling a yawn himself.

“No. You?” Merlin said, too casually.

“You can go to bed, clotpole. I know it’s late.” Arthur offered.

“No.”

“I’ll only be up a little longer anyway. Really, Merlin, get to bed.”

“No.” Merlin said again. Arthur gave an exasperated look.

“Fine. Then I’m done now.” Arthur said. His voice was staggered and unsure and he made no move to organize the papers into a pile to return to his desk.

“You are such a bad liar!” Merlin exclaimed at Arthur.

“What?! No I’m not!” He retorted.

“You really are. Remember the time we ate those strawberries, and—”

“Oh, that was not my fault.” Arthur interrupted. What is now referred to as The Great Strawberry Incident occurred once when the kitchens were having a shortage, and Arthur and Merlin went to go and just take a few. Well, alright, more than a few. They snuck into what looked to be the empty kitchen and that’s when Merlin discovered what an incredibly loud walker Arthur is. When someone heard all the commotion, they’d appeared from the back only to see the Prince and his manservant, hands full of strawberries.

“It was! They asked what we were doing and you said we were lost! In your castle! You idiot!”

“It was your fault for tripping over the ladle and alerting them in the first place!” Arthur half-yelled back, “I wouldn’t have had to lie if we hadn’t been caught.”

Alright, fine. Merlin may or may not have tripped over a ladle and then fell backwards into some pots. But really, why was there a ladle on the floor?

“I don’t recall that…I’m pretty sure you’re remembering it wrong.” Merlin shrugged unconvincingly. He was rewarded with a pillow being thrown at him, which he expertly dodged. Merlin stuck out his tongue in return.

They both began to calm, looking down at the papers once again. But only a beat passed before Arthur looked up again.

“I’m really glad they’re alright.” Arthur said, twisting his stone ring around his finger in thought.

“The druids?” Arthur nodded.

“I just…Between you and Morgana, and Elrand, and Melian, I just. I just want to keep everyone safe.”

“I know. But they’re safe. We’re safe. You can rest now.” Merlin answered.

“It’s definitely easier to,” Arthur admitted, “Now that I know for sure. It was hard being unable to help. I just couldn’t sit and spend a moment doing nothing.”

“I understand.” Merlin said.

Arthur nodded, then looked down to his papers. He still looked a little sad, and because Merlin can’t help but try to fix it, he summons some strawberries.

“Midnight snack?” He asked. Arthur looked up, not having heard Merlin’s quiet spell.

“I missed it again!” He exclaimed. Merlin shrugs, but he still feels warm all over from the disappointment in Arthur’s voice. From Arthur wanting to see this part of him.

“It’s all right. I’m really no good at making strawberries.” Merlin said, looking at the bowl to see half-full of red flowers. He’s really got to learn the difference.

“Well, it’s good to know you have flaws.” Arthur teased.

“Yes, I’m sure it makes someone like you feel better.” Merlin teased back. Arthur’s mouth gapes in that open smile he does sometimes. He reaches for another pillow to throw, but he’s all out.

“How dare you say that to your King!” Arthur said, in his deep, King-like voice. Merlin laughed.

“Oh, get back to work, you prat.”

The only other interesting part of the week is when Arthur asks Morgana to show him her magic, and she asks Merlin to come too because she’s nervous. Which is fair. All Arthur knows about Morgana’s magic so far is that she can predict his death and kill his father.

They sit in Merlin’s kitchen, Arthur being checked over by Gaius. Gwen and Merlin cheer as Morgana grows some flowers in the cracks of the walls and floorboards. It’s a new spell for her, but Merlin thinks she’s doing extremely well. Magic is a part of her. Merlin can feel it emanating from her even when he’s across the room.

Morgana picks a tall daisy from the masses and puts it behind Gwen’s ear. When Morgana turns around, Gwen shoots a wide-eyed look at Merlin, who returns with a thumbs up.

Later, when Arthur falls asleep at his desk after dinner and Merlin forces him into bed, Merlin passes Gwaine in the hall.

“Up late, aren’t you?” Merlin asked.

“Was looking for you! Up for a night at the tavern?” Gwaine pouts and intertwines his hands in an effort to beg. Merlin pretends to think for a moment.

“Alright, fine, you’ve convinced me.” He said. Even though he didn’t really need any convincing, he added, “If you’re buying the first round.”

“Happy to!” Gwaine wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they left the castle. “I’ve been promoted.”

“Oh! Gwaine, that’s great! Congratulations, my friend.”

They enter the bar to see Elyan, Percy, and Leon waiting in their usual corner booth.

“Look who I found!” Gwaine shouted across the bar. He’d meant to only tell their booth, but most of the bar cheered. Merlin smiled sheepishly.

“Honey, we were wondering how long it’d take you to come in again.” Gretchen said, appearing at the table as Merlin and Gwaine sat down.

“I was here yesterday.” Gwaine pointed out.

“Not you.” She glared teasingly at him. “Merlin, honey, can I get you an ale? On the house.”

“Oh, Gretch, you don’t have to do that!” Nicholas, who usually stays in the back, appears by her side with a drink.

“Here you go, Merlin.” He said softly, placing it down on the table.

“Thanks, Nicky.” Merlin blushed. “Love you, Gretch!”

“Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest.” She patted the top of Merlin’s head as she walked away.

“Looks like you’re off the hook, Gwaine.” Merlin teased. “My first drink was free.”

Gwaine’s glare only made him smile more.

“So, Leon, firstly, a proper congratulations on being Commander. I’m really proud of you.” Merlin said, enjoying the way Leon’s face lit up.

“Well, you should also praise Gwaine and Percy, who are my seconds in command.”

“Sir Gwaine, Sir Percival.” Merlin said dramatically, doing a little bow.

“Ugh, you sound like Arthur!” Percy said. Everyone laughs. “You should also give a round of applause to Elyan, who fills the former place of Gwaine and Percy.” Everyone claps for Elyan, who only laughs.

“Oh please! All they do is drink and nap!” He jokes. Gwaine elbows him, pouting. The rest of the table agrees though, including Percy.

“So how was your journey?” Merlin had barely greeted them when they returned, so it’s nice to finally be able to catch up.

“Well the first bit was awful. Traveling there…We were under the assumption we’d be burying the bodies of friends.” Leon began.

“But they were alive!” Percy cheered. “And we got to stay the night, and keep watch over them.”

“Yes, Gwaine and Percy danced while I did all the work.” Leon complained.

“That’s why you got promoted,” Gwaine teased, “You don’t know how to have any fun.” Leon pretends to be offended.

“Part of the task was checking on the other camps!” He defended.

Elyan, who sits at the end of the table, claps a hand on Leon’s shoulder.

“Don’t listen to them. You’re only half as boring as they say.”

“Hey!” Leon exclaimed, while everyone else laughed at him.

Overall, the week is a busy one, filled with little moments of joy and comradery here and there. Merlin can still feel it. That energy, the one that fills each person in Camelot. The lightness of what used to be a gloomy Kingdom. It’s all because of Arthur. It’s the effect he has, the thing that has always made him a good man, a good leader. And now he is a great King, and everyone is glad to follow him.

Chapter Text

At the end of the week, King Stephan and Queen Aviana arrive. Usually Arthur and Merlin would be greeting them, especially so since he’s King now. But Stephan and Aviana don’t know that Uther was the one to die, and the grand surprise will be revealed at dinner.

Merlin is supposed to wait until everything is set: guards at each entrance to the room, truth potions in the goblets of Aviana and Stephan, Morgana sat at the table, ready to use magic if need be. But truly, Merlin hates this plan. How can he leave Arthur alone in his room, when there are intruders in the castle? Merlin’s heart is beating out of his chest as he waits in the great hall, longing to return to Arthur’s side and make sure he is safe.

He will not let Arthur be hurt again.

Arthur had asked him this morning if he’d stay outside in the hall, to remain safe. Merlin had nearly rolled his eyes, if it hadn’t been for the concerned look on Arthur’s face. Instead, Merlin brushed his shoulders and politely declined.

He will not let Arthur be hurt again.

Finally, everyone is in their places. They wait for Aviana and Stephan to sit at the table and proceed to block every entrance from the outside. Gwaine and Percival wait at one, along with several other knights. Leon and his group wait to block the other. Merlin nods to him and goes to fetch Arthur. He really hates this plan.

“They are sat at the table. The guards are each posted in their positions. We’re ready for you.” He said. Arthur nodded, and reached for his cane. Then, to Merlin’s surprise, he reaches under his pillow to grab his dagger–Merlin always forgets he keeps one there–and tucks it into his boot.

“Don’t tell Gaius.” Arthur said, a secret smile crossing his face. Merlin couldn’t help but smile back. Gaius had been very particular about Arthur not holding any heavy weapons, refusing to allow him to wield a sword, which is part of why Merlin really hates this plan. The dagger makes him feel a little better. Not much, though, because he’d finally taken a good long look at Aviana and senses she’s gone mad. She just has that energy about her, crazy from top to bottom.

“Nervous?” Merlin said. Arthur seemed to think for a moment.

“Should I be?” Arthur answered evenly.

“No.” Merlin responded. He hates this plan, but he is confident in himself. He will not let Arthur be hurt again. “You’ve got me looking out for you this time. No one will lay a finger on you.” He tried to sound less intimidating than he plans to be, dusting Arthur’s shoulders gently. He opens the door. “Ready?”

When they enter the room, Merlin takes his position by the wall, beside Gwen. He hears Aviana gasp when Arthur appears in the doorway.

“Good evening King Stephan, Queen Aviana. I trust your travels went smoothly?” Merlin hates that he can only see the back of their heads, he needs to know how they react! Luckily he can now see Arthur, who sits at the head of the table. His smirk makes Merlin want to jump off a cliff. In a good way.

“Good evening, Sire. You look…well?” Aviana has clearly been thrown by this surprise. Arthur raised an eyebrow and Merlin watched his swift, calculated nod. “And will your father be joining us this evening?” Aviana continued.

“Unfortunately not,” Came Arthur’s reply, “But then, I’m sure you were only expecting one guest at this table tonight. Weren’t you.”

My Gods, Merlin thinks privately. Arthur isn’t even blinking! His entire demeanor is changed, and he sits perfectly upright, chin high. Merlin can see Aviana nearly shrivel in her seat. Which is honestly very understandable. He looks so much more intimidating than usual and it’s ridiculous how much Merlin is blushing because of it. He has to force himself to stare at the back of Aviana’s head instead, because he really needs to be paying attention.

“Sire, I’m sure I. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Her words are higher-pitched, now, and she stutters. Whatever her plan had been has clearly fallen apart. “Why don’t you have some of your drink?”

“Sure.” Arthur lifts his cup from the table, holding the goblet out, to the left of him. “Merlin?”

This is another thing they’d prepared. It had been Gaius’ idea, when they were making the truth potions. A few mint leaves, enchanted to wither in the presence of a potion. Merlin doesn’t know when Aviana would have poisoned the goblet, but it’s good to double check. Even if nothing comes of it, it will be good for her to know just how deep in trouble she is.

Merlin walks over, silently ready to kill her, and places a few leaves into Arthur’s drink.

The leaves shrivel. She’d poisoned the goblet.

Arthur looks down at the glass, then back up at Aviana, an eyebrow raised.

“A bold move. Perhaps not the one you should have made, Aviana.” Merlin begins walking, meaning to return to his place against the wall, but stops when he sees Aviana beginning to move.

“That isn’t…That wasn’t me! I would never!” She tries to stand, but Merlin’s hands are already on her shoulders, and he shoves her down into her seat, harder than he had to.

“Sit.” Arthur commanded, even though Merlin had already forced her to. “How about you have some of your drink?” His voice was laced with sarcasm. Merlin let Aviana go, returning to his place against the wall. Not yet, he whispered to his magic. Arthur could handle this part just fine. “Drink.” Arthur said again, with clenched teeth.

“I really don’t think—” Aviana tried to say, as she reached for her glass.

“Drink.”

From where Merlin stood, Aviana seemed to take a sip. Arthur glanced at Merlin, and Merlin understood what he was asking. It only takes a drop of truth poison to become unable to lie. She’d had enough. Merlin gave a slight nod to Arthur, who then looked back to Aviana.

“Why are you here, Aviana?” Arthur asked.

“You asked me to come.” She said, dancing around the truth. Clever.

“Why did you come before?” He pushed.

“To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Arthur continued. There is no answer for a moment, but Merlin knows this cannot last. The truth potion would win out. “Celebrate what, Aviana?”

“Celebrate my marriage to King Uther!” She exclaimed. Merlin’s eyebrows shot up while Arthur’s furrowed. “He was mine, I had him! I finally tricked him! How did it fail? How do you still live?”

This makes absolutely no sense, because King Stephan is sitting beside her, still seemingly uninterested in the conversation. He doesn’t even look up at this proclamation. It’s not even a very well thought out plan.

“Got lucky.” Arthur responded vaguely.

“What do you mean, you had him?” Morgana interrupted. Merlin glanced at her to see a puzzled but unafraid expression.

“He was mine, you idiot!” Aviana’s voice is a screech now, and Merlin can see the visible shaking of her body. “I finally had dosed him enough to make him think it was all his idea. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t. It was mine.”

“What was your idea?” Arthur asked, which makes Aviana cackle. Her crazed laughter fills up the room.

“Gwen, get behind me.” Merlin whispered. She has magic. She’s here for power and he can sense it coming off of her in waves now. Whatever she’d been doing to hide it is gone, and it’s only a matter of time before she uses it. Gwen slinks behind Merlin.

“He was going to marry me! I thought he wrote to marry me!” Aviana bellowed.

“Aren’t you…otherwise engaged?” Morgana asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at Stephan, who has not even looked up at the commotion.

“NO!” She screeches. Every candle goes out, and they are left in darkness. It’s only for a half second though, because Merlin quietly relights them.

Aotrom.

Even as fast as he was, by the time the lights come back on, Stephan is gone.

“Where did he go?” Arthur exclaimed. Merlin could see him moving to reach his dagger before standing up. Morgana stood up too, arms outstretched slightly, as if to perform a spell. No! Aviana will surely recognize such a pose, and they’ll lose their advantage. “Where did he go!”

Aviana’s insane laughter didn’t stop, even as she explained.

“He was never really here. Just a shiny something to pretend with.”

“A trick?” Morgana asked. Merlin watched as Arthur reached the same conclusion Merlin had.

“You have magic.” Arthur breathed.

“So does she, hm? Not enough.” Aviana is too quick. In a single sentence, Merlin is pinned to the wall with iron restraints, uncomfortably squished up beside Gwen. He looks helplessly to Morgana, whose fists are now caged in iron chains. The doors bar themselves from the inside, now, and the knights inside are pinned against them. Merlin can hear the knights outside banging to get it, but knows it’s futile. He struggles against his bars, trying to wrestle himself free. He saw Morgana doing the same thing. But this will take too long, it’ll be too late…

“So Stephan was never here?” Arthur asked. Aviana shook her head rapidly.

“He found out about my magic, banished me from his Kingdom. But that’s okay. It’s all okay.” Aviana sing-songed and started cackling again. “I only had to intercept a few letters, and pretend he was here with me, and poison Uther’s drink.”

“With what?” Arthur pressed.

“I would only have to get his heir out of the way, and then he would be forced to leave his kingdom to me!” Merlin watched as Arthur shook his head slightly.

“You’re insane.” He breathed.

“NO.” Merlin struggled against his chains as he watched Arthur be forced to sit again. Merlin forced himself to calm down. Think. How to get out of these. What is the spell? Remember it. “I’m desperate. There is a difference.” Aviana moved his glass to sit directly in front of him.

ASGAIDH MI!

“It seems it’s your turn to drink.” Aviana is saying, but it’s too late. His bars have warped away from him, and he is free.

She doesn’t see him coming, but Merlin wouldn’t care if she did.

He will not let Arthur be hurt again.

“No, I don’t think so.” Merlin interrupts. Aviana had moved to be looming over Arthur, and now Merlin stands tall compared to her. He revels in her surprised, wide-eyed look. Without even having to try, Merlin flings her away from Arthur, at the same time freeing Arthur from the compel spell she’d put him under. His hands put the goblet down he’d been holding.

Merlin blinks, and in a moment Morgana’s chains fall away, along with the ones holding the servants.

Aviana lands on her knees, but rises quickly and fires a spell at Merlin. The walls shake as she pulls stone from the floor to throw at him. Merlin tilts his head slightly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. He stops the stone midair, and with another word from him, it is carved into enchanted chains. He flings them back at Aviana. She dodges, but he’d expected that. He just needs them there for later.

Merlin watches as she steals the light from the candles around her, forming a fireball to throw.

Poor Aviana. Doesn’t she know?

Merlin has been playing with fire for years.

He reanimates the flame just as it reaches him, and allows his magic to feed into it. It dances around his back happily, and Merlin can feel it building around him, laughing as it reclaims freedom once again. When it leaves his side, he realizes it has the neck and head of a dragon. His magic chose the shape, and he barely has to guide it as it chases Aviana. Its jaw opens as it reaches her.

Merlin pulls upward as Aviana screams and ducks to the floor, allowing the dragon to pass over her. As she shields her head from the fiery death she’s expecting, Merlin takes the moment to use those engraved stone cuffs, wrapping them around her wrists and ankles.

Solais, mas e do thoil e. Merlin murmurs as the dragon fades. The great hall returns to its regular lighting, and the bars from the doors disappear.

It takes several moments for Merlin to realize that this is the first time Arthur’s ever seen his magic. Really see it. Not just parlor tricks, not happy and pleasant. Merlin shakily turns to Arthur, trying to look less nervous than he is. Arthur bows to him.

Merlin doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“Those are made of stone, can she escape them?” Arthur asked as he approached Merlin. His voice was steady, if not a little cold. Had Merlin gone and made a mess of things? Does Arthur hate him?

“I enchanted them with some engravings. She won’t be able to do magic as long as she wears them.” Merlin heard himself explaining, even though inside his magic was burning, hiding, suddenly very afraid.

“Alright,” Arthur turned away from Merlin to speak to his knights, “Take her to the dungeons. Leave those cuffs on, she won’t be able to use her magic. She seemed to be working alone, but scout the perimeter just in case.”

Oh, wipe that look off your face. He’s proud of you. Morgana whispered in Merlin’s mind.

He won’t even look at me!

He’s King, dummy! He’s a little busy right now. Merlin didn’t respond to this. But a moment later, Morgana had something new to say.

He called you beautiful. Murmured it like he was dreaming.

Oh, he did not!

He did! And he’s right.

Morgana moves to stand beside Merlin now, looking down at her feet as they speak.

He really said that? Merlin asked, unsure.

Yes! He was totally drooling over you as you performed.

Oh hush. No he wasn’t.

He was! It was completely ridiculous! Morgana gave Merlin a look, and they both started giggling. Merlin tried to imagine Arthur drooling at him and calling him beautiful. Merlin looks up to see Arthur looking inquisitively between them.

Is that what he looks like when he’s drooling? Merlin asked sarcastically. Morgana nodded.

Yes. It happens whenever he’s looking at you. Or talking to you. Watch.

Just as she finished talking, Arthur reached their side.

“What’s going on?”

He asked it so firmly and seriously that Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. It had the same impact on Morgana, and both of them doubled over giggling.

“What?” Arthur asked again, looking between them. Merlin and Morgana took one look at each other and laughed even harder. “Oh, stop that!”

See?

Morgana’s teasing only made Merlin laugh harder. Arthur rolled his eyes and began to walk away from them, but Morgana gave Merlin a push toward him. He turned back to see her blowing sarcastic kisses at them.

When he catches up to Arthur, Merlin is still giggling.

“Always following me around.” Arthur teased. Merlin rolled his eyes, even though he has, is, and will always willingly follow Arthur around.

“That’s literally my job!” Merlin defended. Arthur chuckled.

“Excuses, excuses.” A beat passed, and when they were further from the now crowded room, Arthur continued. “Thank you, by the way.”

“It’s my job.” He shrugged, repeating the phrase.

“No, it’s not.” Arthur said, his tone firm. “It’s just you being kind, and helpful, and loyal and—” Arthur seemed to cut himself off. Merlin can’t breathe, because how can Arthur be this forgiving of what he’d seen tonight? “And you didn’t have to.” Then, a little more excited, “I didn’t even know you could! Morgana says you have the best magic she’s seen.” To be fair, Merlin is probably the only magic she’s ever seen, but Merlin can’t help the embarrassed blush that runs up his cheeks. Merlin is glad they’re walking, so that Arthur can’t see the effect his words have.

“Supposedly, I have the best magic anyone’s ever seen.” Merlin said quietly. Strongest, maybe. But best? Is that in the context of something good? Merlin isn’t sure. “It’s all a great big prophecy, you and me.”

“Oh?”

Merlin nods.

“The druids, they call you the Once and Future King. Not just for them. For everyone. You’re destined to bring peace and prosperity to all of Albion.” Merlin paused for a moment, deciding that he might as well reveal the rest. “They call me Emrys. I am destined to protect and guide you.” He doesn’t mention that even if it wasn’t his destiny, he’d gladly do it anyway.

“Emrys.” Arthur half-whispers. Merlin gulps, because it’s the first time he’s ever liked being called by that name. Arthur shoots him a sideways glance, looking him up and down. “Suits you.”

Merlin looks away, and suddenly he can’t remember how to form words.

“Do you believe in that prophecy?” Arthur asked, saving him from having to say thank-you.

“I’m not sure.” Merlin answered. This doesn’t feel like enough, so he continues, “I think you are already a great King, and you will grow to be even better. At the very least, the prophecy is an excuse to be by your side, so it’s good enough for me.” His voice gets significantly quieter by the end of the sentence, but he’s still glad he said it. It’s a strange line to toe, between making sure Arthur feels loved without admitting that it’s in more than one way.

“Yes, I don’t mind that at all.” Arthur whispered back. Merlin risked a glance at his friend to see a small smile on his face. “Plus, I clearly do need your help.” Merlin laughed, because this is true. With the exception of the last few incidents, Merlin has pretty much been the only thing keeping Arthur alive.

“Yes. Clearly.” Merlin answered, feeling light and feathery. They reach the throne room. Instead of sitting on the throne, though, Arthur sits on a step of the stairs leading up to it. He waves the guards away as Merlin sits down beside him.

“I figured out you were a sorcerer from the plum, and the cane, and the bathwater. Small things. But you’ve been using your magic to save me, haven’t you? All this time?”

Merlin hadn’t really thought much about what might’ve given him away. Arthur had mentioned the plum, though, so Merlin had assumed it was just that. But the bathwater? Had he noticed such a tiny detail, and not known to call it magic?

“A little.” Merlin admitted, looking at the floor.

“C’mon, no need to be shy about it now.”

Merlin looked at him. Is this really something he should say? And if he does, how much should he burden Arthur with?

Finally Merlin decides that Arthur is offering him an out. A chance to leave these secrets behind them. He takes it.

“Well, firstly, I’m a warlock. Not a sorcerer. Born with magic, remember?” Merlin says breathily.

Merlin starts with the first time they met, how he’d cheated in the square. Arthur doesn’t look angry, though, just excited to listen and to hear and suddenly Merlin can’t stop himself. The time that he pushed Arthur out of the path of a poisoned dagger. The snakes hidden in a magic shield. The troll Queen. Curing Gwen’s father of the plague. How he’d known the goblet was poisoned. Actually, that one happened a lot. Saving him from the lake he’d nearly drowned in by that girl’s hand.

He doesn’t mention that her name was Sophia. He doesn’t tell Arthur how he’d killed her and her father without missing a beat.

The time that Arthur had replaced Merlin with a con-man of a servant, who was then possessed. That one he skims over, because it still hurts Merlin to think about sometimes. By the flash of remorse on Arthur’s face, Merlin can guess he feels the same way. The arrow that changed course last minute. The spear that Merlin jumped in front of. The witch-hunter. The sudden windstorm that had saved Ealdor, the one that Will had taken credit for.

Merlin doesn’t remind Arthur that Will is dead now. Or that his last words had been a lie, because of Merlin.

He goes on for a while, his stories out of order in whatever way he remembers them. He just wants to explain his magic, but by the end Arthur’s bewildered face shows he’d revealed much more.

When he finishes talking, the pair sit in silence for a long time. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me for so long.” Arthur said finally. Merlin can’t help himself. He reaches to Arthur’s hand, grasping it firmly.

“You loved and respected your father.” Merlin had to explain, because he could not allow Arthur to blame himself for Merlin’s lies. Not ever. Not even for a moment. “I didn’t want to force you to make a choice. Your shoulders already carry too many burdens, darling.” Merlin’s free hand wraps around Arthur’s neck, and Arthur folds into him. His head lays just below Merlin’s collarbone, and Merlin comfortably rests his head atop of Arthur’s.

“It wouldn’t have been a choice.” Arthur mumbled into Merlin’s tunic. “You could say anything and I could not abandon you.”

Is this true? Could Merlin explain how he’d been the one to free the dragon? That he’d been the one to kill Nimueh? Could Merlin explain how his magic longed to kill, that Uther had been right to be afraid? Could Arthur forgive him?

When Merlin had first come to Camelot, he’d never killed anyone before. Tonight, had Arthur not been watching, Merlin would have done it without blinking. Is that something he could forgive?

Merlin chooses an easier topic to shift to. Why he hadn’t told Arthur about his magic, after he’d found out that Arthur didn’t agree with his father.

“But then I saw how torn up you were about Morgana. I didn’t want to cause you more pain.” Merlin said quietly.

“Is that why you looked so sad?” Arthur asked. Merlin nodded, feeling sorry that he’d worried him.

“I was excited to finally tell you, and then thought it would only hurt you, and I was just…Disappointed.” Merlin explained. As best he could, anyway. That week had had so much back and forth it’s almost impossible to describe. “But you gave me a day off and I had time to sort of get over it.”

“I’m glad you don’t have to bear it alone anymore.” Arthur answered softly. “You don’t need to keep secrets from me, Merlin. I would never judge a single one.” Merlin hugs him tighter.

“I know,” He whispered, “But to be honest? Being by your side makes anything much lighter to bear.”

They stay wrapped in each other’s arms for a little while, but they both know Arthur has to check on how everything was handled. People will be looking for him to make their reports. When they stand up, Arthur gives him a funny look.

“You should be the Court Sorcerer!” Arthur exclaimed.

Merlin tried to hide the immediately horrified look that must have crossed his face. This conversation had completely misled Arthur. His greatest lie yet! As if Merlin should be rewarded. If anything, Merlin should be cast out.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Merlin trailed off. He doesn’t want to hurt Arthur’s feelings, but this position can’t go to him. It just can’t.

“Oh, I should have thought of it sooner!” Arthur continued, ignoring him, “I’m sorry I didn’t. But you have always been the thing that guides me the most. And my best protector, too, it seems. You were meant to have your magic on display, not hidden in the shadows.” Merlin can’t insult himself when Arthur’s compliments are so sincere and kind. But he can’t take the position, he just can’t. “Please just think about it?”

Merlin nods, and he will think about it. Well, he will think about how to get out of it.

He shouldn’t have a position of power. Forget the magic—Whenever he’s had to make a decision, he has always made the wrong one! He won’t lead Arthur astray like that. Morgana is his Advisor, and that is more than enough.

Arthur gives him a relieved smile as Merlin nods.

Arthur trusts him too much. Doesn’t he understand? Doesn’t he feel it, from where he stands? The corruption that has snuck its way into Merlin’s veins…Doesn’t he see it? Merlin can’t be trusted.

Even so, with the way Arthur is looking at him? It makes Merlin want to believe in himself again.

Chapter Text

One week passes. The letters announcing Uther’s death are finally sent out, along with one addressed to King Stephan explaining the imprisonment of his banished Queen, and asking what he wished to be done with her.

Arthur has been walking on his own for almost the entire week. The cane lays permanently against the grand fireplace now. Merlin had offered to put it with Gaius’ spares, but Arthur had demanded it stayed with him. Which was no problem for Merlin. It made his day.

Last night, Gaius had finally cleared Arthur to attend training again, and Merlin could see the excitement on his face. Even this morning, his knee is bouncing up and down at his desk, and he washes himself ridiculously fast.

“Arthur. You’ve got to slow down.” Merlin chastised.

“Yeah, yeah. Help me get dressed!” Arthur said, stepping out of the bath.

“I mean it. Gaius said to take it easy.”

“I’m in charge here, I believe.” Arthur teased. Merlin rolled his eyes.

There is no slowing Arthur today. Merlin is glad to see it though. It reminds him of a younger Arthur, one more easily excited and cheery.

Merlin dresses him in knightly armor for the first time in months. The last time was when he went with Leon, Gwaine, and Percy to meet with that druid camp in secrecy. It feels so long ago now. So much has changed.

Not everything though, Merlin thinks as he dusts Arthur’s shoulders.

He finds himself distracted by Arthur’s eyes. These are the same fierce blue eyes Merlin had met in the square, all those years ago. It feels for a moment as if decades have past, or perhaps as if no time has passed at all. The easy banter, the teasing, the shared smiles, the effortless sacrifice for the other. Merlin looks at this boy and feels he has known him his whole life. So much has changed, and nothing has changed at all. It wouldn’t matter really. This will always be the person Merlin most adores. This will always be everything he ever needs. Arthur is not Merlin’s cure—Nobody has that power. But perhaps Arthur is the thing that sometimes convinces Merlin he does not need one. Perhaps Arthur is the happiness that Merlin is able to touch and grasp and hold dearly to.

“There you go. All dressed up and proper, like a prat.” Merlin teased.

“Well, you would know.” Arthur answered sarcastically.

“Oh, ha-ha. Here,” Merlin can’t help but reach out, fixing Arthur’s hair into place.

“Better?” Arthur asked.

“Oh yes. Very beautiful. Such gorgeous blond locks.” Merlin answered. His tone was sarcastic but he meant every word. Arthur glared but Merlin sensed he could tell it was a very real compliment.

It’s such an overwhelming and unexpected thought that Merlin takes an involuntary step back. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice, far too eager to reach the field and his fellow knights.

“Come on!” He cheered. Merlin followed him with a small smile. It’s lovely watching Arthur come to life again.

“Look at this!” Gwaine teased at his arrival. But by the smile of the knights, there was no doubt that their enthusiasm matched Arthur’s. Everyone was relieved to see the King on his feet again. Not just healing. This is something more. Something important.

“He’s finally here!”

“Welcome back, Sire!”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur greeted, “Sir Leon. Please continue with training.” He said. Leon’s surprised look lasted only a moment before beginning. Arthur was paired off with one of the newer knights, one of the many replacements for Uther’s now dismissed ones.

The knight gave a nervous smile, which Arthur returned without a second thought.

Arthur removes his sword from his belt, and even from where Merlin stands he can sense something is wrong. Arthur only takes a half-step back, but it’s enough to know that his usual, steady stance is gone.

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered, even though he was far enough away that nobody could hear him.

Everyone takes their positions, and Arthur’s opposing knight moves swiftly. Arthur blocks it, but anyone could now see how unsteady this single blow made him. Merlin abandons his place at the side of the field to race to him, hoping to get there in time. But he’s too far, he won’t make it—

Arthur’s stumble backwards caught the attention of his opposer, who quickly sheathes his sword. Leon turns toward this too, clearly having been watching as well. Meanwhile, Arthur’s sword flies out of his hands and the knob of it knocks into his head, and in a moment he is on the ground. Leon had reached out for him, but it was too late.

Arthur landed on his arse, and his hands cling to the Earth on either side of him. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

Merlin arrives at their side just as Leon is helping Arthur up, and reaches instinctively for him. His waist, his arm, something, anything to make sure Arthur is safe and steady. But Arthur pulls his arm away too quickly, just out of Merlin’s grasp.

“I’m fine, alright?! I can do it myself!” Arthur spit, his voice rough and coarse and maybe a little sad.

Merlin nearly jumps back, Arthur's angry tone in such contrast to the delighted one he’d heard this morning.

He half-stomps, half-stumbles away, back to the castle. Merlin remains on the field as moments tick by, wondering if he should follow.

“Everyone, back to it. If I hear a word out of turn you’ll be in the stocks!” Leon shouts, and everyone returns to their training.

Leon stands beside Merlin, his gaze also trained on the doorway Arthur had used to enter the castle.

“How is he?”

“This morning was the best I’d seen him.” Merlin responded.

“He’ll be alright. Injuries like that…They take time to recover.” Leon consoles.

“You try telling him that.” Leon sighs half-heartedly.

“Give him my best, will you? No-one will speak a word of this again, I swear.” Merlin nods, and Leon gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“I’d better go check on him.” Merlin murmured as he walked away. He took each step somewhat slowly, wanting to give Arthur a bit of time to sort through his feelings on his own. Not too much time though. Not enough that he feels alone.

He gives a light knock to the door, as if trying not to spook a wounded animal.

“Come in, Merlin.” Arthur answered from the other side.

Merlin obliges, entering quietly. He sees Arthur at his desk, folded over on himself. His hands hold up his head which is bowed toward the ground. Merin glances at the floor to see a pile of now dirtied armor, which Arthur must have taken off himself.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Arthur said shortly, unmoving.

Merlin does not feel pity for Arthur. Not really. He just sees a prince, a boy, a child, waiting for someone to hold him and tell him that everything is going to be alright. To remind him that he is strong and safe and loved.

And so when Merlin reaches Arthur, he hugs him.

Since Arthur is sat down, Merlin towers over him. He stands behind him, leaning over Arthur to wrap his arms around him. The position pulls Merlin downward, and Merlin can comfortably put his chin atop Arthur’s head.

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” Merlin said eventually. Arthur sighed. Merlin held him tighter.

“I’m so tired, all the time. Between the nightmares and the cane, I just feel…” Arthur trailed off. “Weak. I just feel so weak and tired and sick.”

Merlin’s heart aches for him. How does he fix this? How can he help? What can he do?

“I suppose I can’t convince you to get back into bed? Or to take one of Gaius’ sleeping tonics?” Merlin answered. This is the wrong thing to say, because it shakes Arthur enough for him to pull away. He stands up and Merlin lets him.

“I’m fine. You can go.” Arthur states, not looking at him.

“What?” Merlin moves to face Arthur.

“I have to get some things done. Take the day off.” Arthur’s voice is so calm and hollow that for a moment Merlin is thrust back to that morning, where he’d lied and Merlin had dismissed him and he’d spent all day in a supply cupboard.

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asked weakly, trying to hold onto some sense that this is a different day.

“No.”

“You don’t have to do this all on your own. Let me help.” Merlin took a step forward, reaching out. Arthur took a half step back and Merlin dropped his outstretched hand back to his side.

“I don’t need any damn help.” He spat.

Merlin takes a deep breath. Any thoughts of being offended or hurt right now feels altogether too selfish. It isn’t about how much they’ve grown, or about how Merlin is in love, or about how Arthur is pushing him away. The only thing that really matters right now is that Merlin’s best friend needs him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Merlin decided resolutely. Arthur’s gaze does not leave the floor. “Just let me take care of you.” Arthur’s head gave a barely perceptible shake, the kind that makes Merlin think Arthur doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Merlin takes the smallest step toward him. “You’re enough. You’re more than enough, exactly as you are. You are not going to get better right away. But you are going to get better.” By the time he finishes talking, Merlin is mere inches from Arthur, who is breathing heavily and staring at the floor.

Merlin raises a hand to Arthur’s cheek and gently holds it, petting his cheekbone softly with his thumb. Arthur visibly relaxes, his head leaning naturally against Merlin’s hand. For a moment it seems this is the only thing keeping Arthur standing at all.

“You always act all alone in the world. And maybe everyone else is too busy to pay any attention. But I’m not.” Merlin said, his voice quiet in admittance. “I have always just seen you.” Arthur does not look up, but his eyes close, and he seems to take a deep breath and Merlin counts it as a victory. “I am going to be here with you through it all. I will always be here. You are not broken, Arthur. You’ve just taken a lot of hits.”

This is the first time Arthur really acknowledges anything Merlin has said, giving a slight nod.

Arthur’s forehead is naturally level with Merlin’s chin, and so it really is without a second thought that Merlin gives him a kiss there. For some reason, despite all of the pining and loving, this kiss does not feel romantic. This is the sort of thing Merlin’s mother used to do for him. And so now, when Merlin kisses Arthur’s forehead, it feels familiar and safe. He hopes it feels that way for Arthur, too. He doesn’t want to make Arthur uncomfortable.

“Please. Lay down, darling. I’ll wake you for the meeting in a few hours.” Merlin whispered. Arthur finally looked up from the floor, and gave a tiny nod. Merlin leads him gently to his bed, helping him strip to his underclothes. Arthur gets into bed weakly, the fight seeming to have left him entirely. Merlin tucks him in, petting his hair. “It’s alright. You’re okay. You just need rest.” Merlin said softly.

“Is there any chance you’d take a sleeping tonic if I brought you one?” Merlin tried. Arthur shook his head. “Okay. Get some sleep, darling.” Merlin gave his hair one more gentle pet, then left his side to close the curtains.

At the door, Merlin glanced one last time only to see Arthur staring at nothing. The excitement from this morning had left him so quickly, and now he looks weaker than he has in weeks.

Chapter Text

When Merlin leaves Arthur’s quarters, he heads directly for Gaius. Surely he should be doing some chores, or meeting with Gwen, or helping Morgana, but this is more important.

“Gaius?” Merlin asked, as they ate lunch together.

“Yes, my boy?”

“Do you think…” Merlin doesn’t really know what his question is. Arthur’s business is his own, but Gaius is the court physician, and he needs to know to be able to help. Merlin needs Gaius to know, because Arthur needs the help. “I don’t think Arthur is doing well. He is having a hard time.” Merlin said finally.

“Oh?”

“Is it…Are his emotions treatable?” Merlin wondered aloud, “I think he is just struggling to find a balance again, and sometimes he just seems so unhappy…”

“Oh, yes, I’ve seen many of these cases over the years. You don’t often know of them, because I prefer to keep it just between the patient and myself, but it is certainly very real. Somewhat treatable, I suppose. Healthy habits help sometimes. Time helps, too. Some people recover. Some people don’t.” Gaius said everything so matter-of-fact that for a moment Merlin doesn’t catch or understand the last sentence.

“They don’t? He might never be happy again?”

“No, no. I only mean to say that some people have reported a recovery of sorts, with effort and help. Others continue to struggle; their highs are alright but their lows are much worse.” Gaius seems to pause upon seeing Merlin’s distraught face. “I will talk with him about it, alright?”

Merlin nods, and they continue eating lunch, although for how much Merlin is paying attention to it, it might as well be dirt. Merlin wonders if he’ll ever be able to convince Arthur to drink a tonic and sleep properly. A sickness of the mind, Gaius said, can’t be healed without taking care of the mind.

Of course, a tiny thought in the back of his mind whispers to him…surely there’s a spell. Surely there is a spell to give Arthur good dreams, or no dreams at all. Surely he could perform it in secret, the way he’d been doing for years. Yet the thought disgusts Merlin somehow. Not the helping Arthur bit, of course. But if he is refusing to take a tonic, how would he feel about Merlin outright fixing it all at once? Merlin thinks it feels somewhat like violating him. Magic would certainly help Arthur, but until he asks, Merlin will not use it.

Eventually lunch ends and Merlin goes out in search of Gwen. She’s not the only one who will know what time the meeting is, but she’s his favorite.

“Gwen!” He called out, seeing her beside Morgana.

“Where’ve you been all day?” She responded.

“I just saw you this morning.” Merlin said with a roll of his eyes, pulling her into a half-hug.

“Fair enough.”

“What time’s the meeting today?” Merlin asked when he pulled away.

“I told you this morning!” She exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips.

“You know I only half-listen to that stuff anyway!” He defended.

Gwen pouted but repeated that the meeting would take place in the evening, before dinner. King Stephan’s letter had arrived, and his response requested they travel to his Kingdom with Aviana as prisoner.

“I’ll bet some gold pieces Arthur will insist on going.” Morgana teased, crossing her arms. Merlin knows immediately she’s right. Gwen, on the other hand, is quick to refute.

“Gaius won’t allow it. I’ll bet against you, love.” The girls shake hands, and that’s when Merlin sees the charm bracelet around Morgana’s wrist. He’d given it to Gwen to deliver a few days ago.

“What a pretty bracelet.” He commented, trying to sound mysterious.

“It made my day. Did he pick it out in town?” She responded, looking down at it fondly. Merlin nodded. Although the gifts are supposed to remain anonymous, Morgana has long since known that the sender is Arthur.

“Had it made specifically. He’s so excited to have you officially looking out for him.” Merlin responded, catching the blush that spread through Morgana’s cheeks. She wears an excited smile, looking at the ground.

“Yes, well, he’s really a very great King.”

As expected, Merlin returns to Arthur’s quarters to see him tense and murmuring, stuck in some nightmare that he can’t seem to escape. Merlin calms and wakes him, and Arthur relaxes some when he sees Merlin looking down at him.

Merlin helps Arthur dress for the meeting, and they don’t talk much. Merlin doesn’t really know what to say.

“Feeling any better?” Merlin asked, as he dusted Arthur’s shoulders.

“A little.” Arthur nodded. “I feel like it's all always there, though. Like I can function through it, but every time something goes wrong, it breaks me.” He admitted. Merlin nodded, remembering what Gaius had said. The highs being tolerable, the lows being extreme.

“You’re very brave to function through it. But remember Morgana is supposed to be ruling while you’re healing. No-one would judge you if you took the time you needed to get better.” He said. Then, quieter, “And no-one would think less of you if you took something to sleep better. Everyone needs rest.” Arthur’s posture changed, straightening, before Merlin had even finished the sentence.

“They wouldn’t haunt me if I didn’t deserve it.” Arthur answered, his voice stiffer than before, twisting his ring worriedly. Merlin’s shoulders slump and he looks down. He wishes so deeply for a way to convince Arthur of his goodness, of his worth. He wonders how much of Arthur’s thoughts on “deserving punishment” are more about Uther than the druids.

“Your mind doesn’t always tell you the truth, Arthur.” Merlin mumbled eventually, knowing as he said it that Arthur would not agree. As expected, Arthur shakes his head.

“I just…” Arthur trails off, and for a moment Merlin hopes for a moment that they’ll have a long talk and perhaps work through this. Instead, Arthur continues, “I don’t want to be late for the meeting.”

Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Gwen, and Morgana are already sitting at the table when Merlin and Arthur arrive, discussing what is to be done, and making decisions on the transfer of Aviana to King Stephan.

“Oh! Arthur. About time.” Morgana teased lightly as they took their seats. The rest of the table went quiet, waiting for the final two to take their seats.

“Blame Merlin!” Arthur said back. His tone was light, much lighter than it had been only a few minutes ago, in his quarters. Merlin gives a dramatic eye roll, feeling as though he were only reading out lines in a play, and everyone chuckles.

Merlin sits to Arthur’s left, and notices immediately how jumpy Arthur is. His leg won’t stop bouncing under the table, and Merlin glances down to see Arthur twisting his ring absentmindedly. However light and teasing his tone may be, Arthur is certainly not fooling Merlin. He knows when his best friend is hurting.

Merlin bumps his leg lightly against Arthur’s, which seems to make him relax. Merlin focuses mostly on doing that.

“I’ll have to go.” Arthur said, after he’d been informed of the letter and the request, just as Morgana had predicted he would. To everyone’s credit, not one person thinks that this is a good idea. But Arthur was not easily deterred, “The terms of our treaty must be renegotiated. The repeal of the ban on magic is necessary, but it is not without risks. I must speak with King Stephan, in person, and discuss what is to be done on his side as well.”

The table goes quiet for a moment, thinking over his proposition. Merlin doesn’t know how much he is allowed to contribute. Should he explain here, in front of everyone, what an awful idea this is?

Eventually it’s Leon who finally speaks up to argue.

“You’re not well enough, Arthur.” Leon’s voice is soft, but Merlin catches the flash of hurt in Arthur’s eye. He reaches to hold his hand under the table. Arthur grasps back so quickly and so fiercely that for a moment that Merlin cannot think entirely of the serious conversation they are having. For one single gulp of air, there is only Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.

“We don’t have to leave immediately.” Arthur offered, after taking a deep breath. “We’ll depart in two weeks time, by which I should certainly be in better shape. Morgana, you’ll stay behind and tend to the castle. Leon, we’ll need many knights with us for my protection and for security against Aviana. Who can you spare without the risk of the kingdom?”

At this, everyone seems to move on. Merlin looks around wildly. Is there nothing they can do? A King should not accompany a prison transfer! This is madness—surely someone must agree!

But no-one does. Leon offers himself, Gwaine, Percival, and a dozen other knights to accompany the party. He suggests Elyan be left behind and put in charge in their absence.

Morgana is set to rule the castle and Kingdom in Arthur’s stead.

Will no one put a stop to this?

“Arthur, I—” Merlin starts.

“Yes, of course you’ll be coming, Merlin.” Arthur interrupted.

Merlin doesn’t know what to do. Everyone else has seemingly moved on. This is like the last plan, where they’d tricked Aviana, and Arthur had nearly died! It’s stupid and rushed and it puts Arthur–their King –at risk.

Merlin moves to speak again, but Gwaine catches his eye from the other side on the table. He gives a slight shake of his head, and Merlin’s words die in his mouth.

When the meeting ends, Merlin does not walk with Arthur in favor of speaking with Gwaine.

“Surely we aren’t going to let him go off on his own!” Merlin whisper-yelled.

Gwaine shook his head, running a hand over his scruff.

“He won’t be on his own, Merlin.”

“It’s not good enough. A King is leaving his castle, and we’re only bringing, what, fifteen knights?”

“And you.” Gwaine added.

“What about me?”

“You’re worth fifty knights, Merlin. And you’re coming along. You’ll protect him just fine.” Gwiane said, his voice much calmer than Merlin’s frantic one.

“We can’t let him go!” He insisted. Gwaine tilted his head back slightly, eyes glancing to the ceiling for a moment, then back down to Merlin.

“We have to. He’s right. If we don’t rediscuss terms, we risk war. Maybe we could send two parties, but Leon says we’re low on well-trained knights as it is. We can’t afford traveling with too many, and risk leaving the castle unprotected.”

Merlin gives a half-growl half-sigh and clenches and unclenches his fists.

“Alright. Ugh!” Merlin exclaimed angrily, then gave a half-hearted sigh. “Alright, fine.”

“We’ll keep him safe. Promise.” Gwaine said, wrapping an arm over Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin could only nod, trying to convince himself to believe Gwaine.

The days fly by far too quickly. Arthur attempts to go to training every day.

It doesn’t go well.

He falls often, usually unable to stand on his feet for more than one fight without having to rest on the sidelines. Merlin keeps waiting for him to realize that he isn’t going to be better in time to go see King Stephan.

He doesn’t.

Arthur stands up each time he falls, rests only to jump back in. He is undeterred, and there is nothing Merlin can do to keep him safe, in the castle, where he belongs.

One night, when Merlin is ranting to Gaius about it all, the old man puts a hand on his shoulder.

“If he is not going to change his mind, it seems you will have to change yours.” He said wisely. Merlin half-blinked, half-glared at him. “He will need you. He needs you now. You might as well begin taking part in it, my boy.”

Merlin nods even though he’s really just annoyed. It’s not until much later, when he’s lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling, that he really even bothers processing the idea. Has he been stiff to Arthur since this decision came about? It’s not even really anything new, Arthur wanting to charge headfirst into danger. They’ve been doing this dance for their entire friendship. Merlin doesn’t mean to be upset about it, doesn’t even really know why he is…

Of course, the last time Arthur left the castle, he died. Or nearly died. Or should’ve died. And Merlin nearly died along with him. How can he ever risk Arthur out of the castle again, knowing for the first time what it looks like when he comes back bloodied, one foot in the grave?

Then again, hadn’t Arthur been nearly killed in his own castle? By his own father?

Maybe that is what’s really bothering Merlin about all this. He has barely let Arthur out of his sight, and here in the castle, that’s easy to do. He’d let his guard down around Uther, forgotten just how dangerous he could be. But since then Merlin has taken no risks. Even that day in town, as they explored the market, Merlin practically had a hand on Arthur’s wrist the entire time. How could he possibly keep one eye on Arthur and one eye on everything else out there, in the forest and in another Kingdom and in another castle?

Merlin runs his hands over his face, groaning.

Gaius is right. He often is.

Arthur is not changing his mind. This is happening. It’s time to stop attempting to derail it, and instead begin planning how to death-proof it.

Merlin barely sleeps, planning what he’d need to get done with the few days he has left before the journey takes place.

Firstly, keep Arthur motivated. A training Arthur is a happy Arthur. A supported Arthur is a happy Arthur. A happy Arthur is a safe Arthur.

Arthur half-begs the following morning to see a new ‘trick.’ As if Merlin’s magic was something to behold. Nevertheless, Merlin summoned an extra plum for him, and decided to come up with a few more. If his magic was going to be the thing to keep Arthur smiling, so be it. Merlin could handle a few extra parlor tricks. He could.

Even as he decides this, however, he can feel that familiar buzz under his skin. Waiting to get out. What if the next act is the one to break the damn?

Well.

He’d have to risk it.

For Arthur.

Merlin shivers with the weight of it, the coldness gliding down his back.

Later, Merlin would implement his second plan. When Arthur finally goes to sleep that night, Merlin goes to the tavern. The usual suspects are all there, waiting for him, but Leon is the only one Merlin really plans to speak to tonight.

Gwaine and Percy tease as he leads Leon away, but Leon’s face remains serious, seemingly sensing Merlin’s strict attitude.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, once they were alone outside the tavern.

“I suppose so.” Merlin answered vaguely.

“Worried about Arthur?” Leon guessed.

“Aren’t you?”

“Everyone is Merlin. I’m not taking this lightly, I promise you.”

“Alright. Well, good. I was beginning to think I was the only one still worried.” Merlin chuckled, looking down at his feet.

“I like it about as much as you.” Leon admitted. Merlin nearly sighed in relief. This would be a much easier conversation than he’d practiced this morning in the mirror.

“Well, I was thinking. I’ve got a few…security measures for him. Ideas.” Leon nodded intently, so Merlin continued, “He hasn’t practiced riding in ages, has he? I’m worried he won't be able to stay upright very long.”

“He’s already denied having a carriage.” Leon interrupted, voicing what was going to be Merlin’s very next thoughts.

“What!? Why?”

“I tried to change his mind. I’m not sure what else there is to do. I think he’d rather slump over dead on his horse than be seen in a carriage, although he claims that has nothing to do with it.” Merlin sighed, and Leon seemed to match his disappointment.

“Alright, alright,” Merlin ran a hand through his hair, “What if he shared a horse with someone?”

“How would we ever convince him of that?” They both thought for a while, then finally Leon continued, “Well, I bet you could.”

“What?”

“I bet he’d share a horse with you, if you asked.” Something in Leon’s tone was so honest and soft that it couldn’t have even been a tease. Nevertheless, Merlin felt suddenly defensive.

“Oh, don’t say it like that.”

“I’m not! Really, I promise. He can ride on his own for a while, and maybe when he’s tired…”

Merlin nodded, finally, and they agreed to this arrangement, and to keep an eye on Arthur. Leon offered to buy him a drink, but Merlin turned him down, walking home quickly. He’s grateful for the darkness, because even as he tucks himself into bed, the burning does not leave his cheeks. I bet he’d share a horse with you, if you asked.

It doesn’t help that the following day Merlin is helping Arthur into his clothes and is suddenly wondering what it would be like to sit that closely for so long. For some reason when Merlin pictures it, Arthur fits next to him so perfectly it is as if Merlin’s body was created to fit the lines of his.

Merlin manages to shake the thought some time between Arthur finishing dinner and dropping him off for a check-up with Gaius. He cleans Arthur’s room, finishing chores he hadn’t had time for this morning. It’s only when he gets to the fireplace that he decides maybe it’s time for a new piece of magic to show Arthur. After all, the last one had been days ago. Yes, that might be nice.

And anyway, it’s something to focus on. Something that’s not Arthur riding on a horse with him, maybe on their way to a picnic, or the beach—

Merlin scrubs at the fireplace harder than he has to.

When Arthur comes in, sometime later, he gives an awkward, lopsided smile, and all of Merlin’s resolve to think of anything else is washed from his mind.

“Hello.” He greeted.

“Hello.” Merlin responded, distracted by how lovely Arthur looks. Did he look this gorgeous this morning? Merlin can’t remember. “Want to see a new trick?” He asked, enjoying the way Arthur’s face lights up in response. Merlin looks around the room for inspiration, having not actually planned anything for it. He glances to the fireplace, and he really had done a good job on it. Too good, really. It’s the cleanest Merlin has seen in a very long while, and suddenly he’s worried Arthur will take one look at it and realize just how distracted Merlin has been today.

And so Merlin reaches without really meaning to for the flames, desperate to erase his handiwork. Ever since the night of Uther’s attack, Merlin has lost all his nerve, far too afraid to actually tell Arthur how he feels.

Merlin isn’t really aware of what spell he uses, but suddenly the flames are in his hands, and he’s juggling balls of fire. None of this is really important, of course, because Arthur is grinning so wide that Merlin can’t help but match. His magic is pounding in his ears but the drumming of his too-fast heart is so much louder.

Can Arthur hear it? Can Arthur tell?

Merlin gives one final grin at Arthur before returning the flames to a now slightly dirtier fireplace.

“That was amazing!” Arthur gushed, “Be my Court Sorcerer?”

Arthur is wearing an almost smirk, and his tone…Is Merlin going mad, or is Arthur flirting with him? It didn’t sound like any other question he’d ever asked. In fact, it doesn’t really sound like he’s asking for a Court Sorcerer at all. The words might as well have stopped at ‘be my.’

Heart beating in his throat, Merlin takes a step forward and raises an eyebrow.

“What would that entail, exactly?” Merlin asked, teasing in a way he usually wouldn’t dare.

It’s ten whole seconds of Merlin waiting, waiting, waiting, before his fantasy crashes down around him and Arthur takes a step back.

“Well, you would be an Advisor, like Morgana, but with magic strategy and…stuff, rather than regular…ruling…stuff.” Arthur’s voice is so stilted and uncomfortable that Merlin wishes he knew a spell that he could light himself on fire with.

“Oh.” Merlin whispers, looking down at the floor. Gwen said that Arthur liked him! And yet here it is, plain as day, Merlin’s imagination having free-reign for far too long. Merlin forces himself to look back up, even though he’d really rather take his chances jumping at the window.

Merlin hears himself agreeing to be Court Sorcerer, even though he’s far too busy trying to figure out the best way to escape this room with whatever’s left of his dignity.

“You don’t…you don’t have to.” Arthur said quietly. Oh good, now he doesn’t even want Merlin as his Court Sorcerer! What’s next, getting sacked from being a servant? Rightfully so, for making Arthur so uncomfortable. About time.

Merlin is in the middle of trying not to cry when Arthur continues. “I just thought you should be the one in charge of how we deal with reintegration of magic in Camelot, and our bridge to the druids, and just,” He rambles, and Merlin doesn’t really know what to make of it, “You know a lot more about magic than I do,” Arthur is staring at the floor now and suddenly all Merlin can this is how this just won’t do, “And I trust your opinion more than anyone,” Merlin still wants to cry but for an entirely different reason, “And you’re the smartest person I know—”

“It would be an honor, Arthur. I’d love to do it.” Merlin interrupts, a small smile spreading over his face. Of course he wasn’t getting sacked. Everything is fine.

Merlin doesn’t really know how Arthur feels about him now, though, and he really is more confused than ever. This befuddlement only grows when Arthur takes three large steps to reach him and pulls him into a tight hug. Arthur’s arms are around his neck before he can even process what’s happening. Merlin doesn’t wait, though. His arms snake Arthur’s waist, holding him close, and confirming every suspicion that Merlin really was made to fit together perfectly with Arthur. It’s infuriating. And exhilarating. And a really, really lovely hug.

And now he’d just volunteered to accept the one position he never ever should. Merlin had promised himself he’d never accept such power, knowing he already has far too much. But then Arthur had been complimenting him and his resolve had melted before he’d even noticed.

When they pull apart, it feels natural, as if it isn’t an end to the hug. It’s just a break until the next one.

Arthur goes to sit at his desk, and Merlin bustles around the room, pretending to do chores that he’d already finished. Absent-mindedly, he wonders how much more free time he’d have if he didn’t spend so much of his days pretending to work.

It’s only when Merlin is helping Arthur get ready for bed that he breaks the long stretch of silence.

“Can I wait a while? To start as Court Sorcerer?” His voice is a little shakier than he’d like. He wonders if his magic has a grip on his throat, trying to stop him from declining the power that it seeks.

“Of course.” Arthur’s response is immediate, and he rests a nonchalant hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “What for?”

Merlin thinks for a moment. How does he explain this without making Arthur fear or hate him?

“I’m not sure.” He decides a skirt around the facts is far better than the truth. “I guess maybe I don’t feel ready.” Merlin said finally.

“Okay. Well, hey,” Arthur says, his voice soft, his eyes locked onto Merlin’s in a way that can only be described as comforting, “You can’t be sworn in officially until I repeal the ban on magic anyway. I plan to, after I speak with King Stephan. How about we check in after that, to see how you’re feeling.”

Arthur crosses the room to his bed after Merlin’s nod of agreement, and Merlin reaches to fold Arthur’ day clothes. When he gets to the pants, however, he feels something in the pocket. He pulls the object out to find a small, dark orange vile of liquid. It looks like something Merlin has seen on Gaius’ shelves, but he can’t remember what it’s for.

“What’s this?” He looked to Arthur, who turned around. His eyes immediately go wide, and he takes a defensive step back.

“Oh. Uh. I…” He trails off, leaving the object unexplained. Merlin only allows a moment of Arthur nervously playing with his ring before striding toward him and softly placing the bottle into his hands.

“It’s okay, darling. You don’t have to tell me.” Merlin pats Arthur’s hand closed, and for a moment has the ridiculous urge to kiss his knuckles. He doesn’t.

Arthur nods, and looks down at the ground as he turns away, putting it on his bedside table before crawling into bed. He twists his ring again before speaking.

“It’s a tonic.” Arthur’s voice is quiet, and his eyes don’t quite meet Merlin’s. “Gaius said it will help me sleep better.” Merlin tucks him in, but can’t help the overwhelming relief that he feels for Arthur. Finally, Gaius has managed to talk some sense into him!

“Oh! Will you…are you going to use it?” He tried to keep his voice level, not wanting to pressure Arthur.

“I haven’t really decided.” Arthur said honestly. “Do you think I should?” Merlin thought for a moment. Not because it was a question of if Arthur should, but a question of why Arthur must.

“Yeah, I do. I know it all makes you a little nervous, but you’ve done so much for the druids. I think you deserve sleep more than you deserve penance.” Merlin whispered, petting his hair. Arthur gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod.

“I’ll…I’ll try it. I don’t know if.” Arthur sighs. “Just this once. Just to see.” Merlin gives an understanding nod and reaches for the bottle, opening and handing it to a nervous looking Arthur. His hand shakes a little as he reaches for the tonic. He takes a tiny sip and hands it back to Merlin, who replaces the lid and sets it gently on the table.

When his gaze returns to Arthur, he is laying down, looking a little uncomfortable. Merlin naturally reaches for his hair, letting his fingers play with the blond strands as Arthur relaxes.

“Okay?” Merlin whispered.

“Minty.” Arthur responded quietly, about the tonic he’d just taken.

Have his eyelashes always been this long? They are so light that perhaps Merlin rarely has the chance to notice them. Either way, Merlin’s mind doesn’t catch up to his body until moments after he’s already kissed Arthur’s forehead.

He doesn’t know why he did it. Well, alright, yes, he’s in love with this very beautiful boy. But he’s never really done it before. The last one didn’t even count! Maybe there is something about Arthur showing his cards, being completely honest that makes Merlin more drawn to him than usual. Or maybe it's about their spontaneous hug earlier, or about the wild thoughts that had been running through Merlin’s mind. From the tiny smile that blossoms on Arthur’s face as Merlin pulls away from him, he figures one way or another he’s succeeded at making him feel better.

“Get some sleep, darling.” Merlin said, ignoring the shake in his voice, and went to blow out the last candle.

“Goodnight.” Arthur answered hoarsely from the bed. Merlin slips out the door, waits until it is closed softly behind him, and does a complete maniac-like breakdown in which he half dances, half shakes out his hands, and screams silently for several minutes.

He then heads straight for Gwen, whom he wakes up, because he has to, and they gossip far too late into the night about the whole ordeal.

Merlin leaves out the bit about Arthur’s tonic. He’s not sure if Arthur wants anyone to know about it.

Chapter Text

Quite suddenly, the morning of the journey arrives. Merlin’s stomach is a pile of nerves, and while Gwen is talking excitedly next to him, he only can form one real thought. Protect Arthur. He must protect Arthur.

Gwen tugs on his arm.

“You aren’t even listening!” Merlin turns his head to face her.

“No—I’m just so nervous about today, Gwen. I can’t really focus on anything at all.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to hear about how the great Lady Morgana put her hand on my thigh for several minutes last night whilst in a conversation about how she knows what it is to be in love?” Gwen whispers, teasing. Merlin’s eyes go wide, completely unprepared for the gossip. No wonder Gwen isn’t comforting him about his nerves for today! She is about to be left all alone in the castle with the love of her life, who is apparently finally making moves on her. She must be just as nervous as Merlin is.

“Please,” Merlin says calmly, with a begging interest, “Continue.”

Gwen tells him all about how they’d stayed up late the night before, somehow drifting onto the conversation of love, when Morgana had patted Gwen’s leg—and more importantly, how she didn’t let go. Merlin gasps and guffaws at the appropriate times, delighted for his friend, who’s become quite animated in telling her story.

“But what did it mean, do you think?” Gwen asked conspiratorially.

“She’s in love with you.”

“But why did she do it?”

“She’s in love with you!”

“Oh, come on, be realistic, will you?”

“She’s the one who put her hand on your leg, Gwennie. I’m just putting the pieces together.” Merlin defended.

“Alright, your turn.” She said eventually, after they’d run out of possible explanations for Morgana’s scandalous hand.

Merlin’s mind wanders toward Arthur, not having to be asked twice. He’s been doing a little better these past few days. Still awful with a sword, really, but he’s been taking long walks beside Merlin. They’ve been nice. Merlin enjoys watching the way Arthur tilts his head back when they arrive outside, as if trying to soak up the sun itself.

“I’m just so worried about him! Do you think there’s any chance he’ll call it off last minute?” Merlin asked. Gwen gave a pitiful smile.

“Doubtful. Sorry.”

“What if I put a sickness spell on him?” Merlin teased, tapping his chin on fake thought.

“Oh, he’d still go, retching and all.” Gwen reaffirmed. Merlin sighed, leaning against the wall. A beat passed. He turned his head toward her in a glance.

“Do you think one of these days we’ll stop gossiping about them to each other and just tell them how we feel?” Merlin asked. She looked at him with surprise and he continued, “Don’t you think it’s silly, that after all these years we are still only waiting? You’ve known Morgana even longer than I have Arthur, and in all fairness I was in denial of my feelings for most of our friendship. And already I’m exhausted from this middlespace, this waiting forever, for what could be nothing at all. Aren’t you just so sick from it?”

Gwen sighed in response, leaving his gaze and looking straightforward.

“I can never decide. Isn’t it so lovely, what I have with her now? How could I ever ask for any more?” Gwen decided, deep in thought.

“You’re too nice,” Merlin responded, “That’s your big problem.”

“Oh? And what’s your excuse?”

Merlin chuckled in lieu of responding, because he doesn’t know how to explain to one of his closest friends that he may or may not be corruption in human form. He doesn’t want to break it to her that one day he could end up slaughtering them all, and that he doesn’t want to warp Arthur—doesn’t want to rub off his sinful impurity on him.

They talk a little while longer, and grab their trays and exchange friendly I-love-you’s, and go their separate ways. And Merlin makes the short trip up to Arthur’s quarters, feeling suddenly as though he’ll be waiting for nothing forever.

“Good morning!” Merlin greets, trying to feign confidence over his anxiety. He places the tray at Arthur’s desk, going to open his curtains. Arthur already stirs in bed, probably having already been awake.

“Good morning, darling.” Arthur answers with a yawn.

Merlin takes a moment to look outside. It’s a beautiful day. The sun has just begun rising. Suddenly Merlin is busy remembering mornings from their past. Days having to help Arthur to the desk with his cane. Days dragging Arthur out of bed by the wrist, catching a smirk on his face before his eyes are even open. He suddenly has the very strange and overwhelming urge to hug Arthur, to tell him thank you, to explain how much each morning has meant to him. Gwen was right. How lovely it is to have this.

Merlin turns away from the window toward Arthur, possibly to give him a hug or to ruffle his hair. He gets distracted, though, by the far-away look on Arthur’s face.

“What?” Merlin asks. Arthur is just looking at him, and it’s making Merlin feel completely self conscious. When Arthur doesn’t answer, Merlin shyly paws at his own nose. “Have I got something on my face?”

Arthur blinks a couple times, then his gaze shifts out the window.

“No, no, sorry.” He says lightly, a tiny smile on his face.

Usually, if Arthur has had a nightmare, he doesn’t wake up so easily or happily. Usually, he has to force himself out of bed–Merlin can see it. The last scrunch of his eyes, and then shooting straight up out of bed as if it had burned him. The past couple days, however, he seems to have enjoyed the mornings. Merlin hopes this is due to the sleeping tonic, but he hasn’t asked him about it since the first night he’d tried it. Merlin doesn’t want to pressure him, or scare him into not taking it anymore.

“Nervous about today?” Merlin asked, guessing from Arthur’s strange dazed look a few moments ago.

“Honestly?” Arthur asked. Merlin nodded. “I’m looking forward to being out again. I feel I’ve been on bedrest for far too long.”

Merlin inwardly groans. So much for hoping for a last moment change. Still, it is nice to see this confidence in him. Hopefully it will do him well out on the road, and he’ll be able to soak up as much of the sun as he likes.

Arthur sits at his desk as Merlin wraps up final preparations for the journey.

“Don’t forget to bring extra layers to sleep in. I don’t want to have to hear you shivering all night.” Arthur called out over his shoulder. Merlin rolls his eyes.

“I would never forget.” Then he adds, “And I don’t shiver!”

“Oh, yes you do!” Arthur argues, complaining. “And it keeps me up half the night. Might as well pack three more neckerchiefs, too, so I don’t have to hear about your neck getting cold.” Merlin raises an eyebrow at Arthur’s attempt to hide his little smile.

“Well maybe we should just start giving the warmest blankets to the servants, then, if it bothers you so much.” Merlin teased back. Arthur gave a thoughtful look that seemed completely insincere.

“No, that can’t be. Ridiculous.” Arthur answered cheekily.

“No, no, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes!” Merlin continued, making Arthur glare. “After all, I’m mostly bones. You are naturally more warm!” Merlin concludes in his usual tease. Arthur picks up on it right away.

“Merlin!”Arthur yelled. “I’m fighting fit!”

“Mhm, mhm, plenty of meat and muscle to keep you warm. I think I should have all your blankets. Only proper solution.” Merlin pushed. Arthur broke out in a grin that made Merlin forget how to breathe for a moment. Although, only a half-second later, it seemed to disappear. Arthur is still looking in his direction, but suddenly Merlin gets the feeling that Arthur isn’t really looking at him at all. But he doesn’t really seem sad or upset, or even the slightest bit bothered. Really just lost in thought.

Merlin longs to ask what he’s thinking about, but decides to leave him to his thoughts. He skirts around the room, glancing at Arthur every so often to be sure he’s eating his breakfast.

Eventually, breakfast ends, and Arthur is dressed, and Merlin makes a comment about his belt loops, and Arthur smacks him over the head, and both men grin, and Merlin feels that weird tight feeling in his chest that he only ever gets around Arthur. His magic coils in his stomach. Maybe it loves their teasing just as much as he does.

Usually Merlin would accompany Arthur down the stairs—he prefers to keep Arthur in sight or nearby all the time, nowadays. But Merlin really should go prepare their horses.

“Good morning, Bruno.” Merlin greeted as he reached the stables, and the stable boy.

“Morning, Merlin! Was wondering when you’d be down.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m here now.” Merlin said. They both laugh, then busy themselves readying the beauties.

The knights arrive a short while later, and then finally comes Arthur. The reunion between him and Chestnut is nothing short of adorable. His horse whinnies and nuzzles him, and Arthur practically coos back at her, kissing her forehead and petting her.

Meanwhile, Merlin is abruptly wondering if Arthur ever thinks about that forehead kiss. Well, kisses, technically. He doubts it. Although suddenly he is very jealous of Chestnut the horse.

Gwaine gives Merlin a friendly pat on the back, and the knights mount their horses.

Gwen and Morgana have come to see them off, and Gwen gives him a tight hug. Morgana waves, although she calls out to him in his mind as they begin to trot away.

Take care of my brother, will you?

I promise. He responds.

And so they’re off, with Arthur and Merlin leading the charge. Sixteen knights, including Leon, Percy, and Gwaine ride behind them. The former Queen Aviana rides her horse in shackles, bound to two other knights whom ride beside her.

Merlin enjoys being up at the front with Arthur. He always has. Even before they called themselves friends, Merlin rode beside Arthur. He doesn’t know why, because servants really should ride at the back. But he’s certainly glad for it now, where he can keep a close eye on his friend. Merlin steals a few glances at him, but his pose still seems proper, and he isn’t flinching. He takes this as a good sign.

“Stop that.” Arthur snaps his head toward Merlin mid-glance.

“Stop what?” Merlin looks away quickly, but can’t help stealing another glimpse. Just to check. Just in case. Arthur has not turned away, however, and glares at him.

“Stop checking on me! I’m not going to break, Merlin.” Arthur snapped. His voice is quieter, though, and Merlin sympathizes with him. He must not want Gwaine or Percy, who ride directly behind them, to hear.

“Alright, alright.” Merlin resolves to keep his head forward.

Even still, he should double check, just to be sure…

“Stop it!” Arthur exclaimed.

Merlin sighs. He can’t help it! Arthur shouldn’t be out here. Their King shouldn’t be out here, where a stray arrow could pierce through his stomach at any moment.

“Look, we can always go back. I’m strong enough to protect you. We could just get you back to the castle—” Merlin tried.

“I’m fine, Merlin.” Arthur cut him off tiredly.

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I said, I’m fine. I promise. I’ll let you know if I need a break.” Arthur promised, his voice softer. Merlin nods, relenting. He busies himself searching the treeline, checking for bandits or attacks. He has to, because if he doesn’t, he’d go mad with worry.

Not that going mad for Arthur is anything new, really.

The party is loud, full of laughter and teasing. Leon handpicked these knights, and what’s strange is how close Merlin is with each of them. It’s a lovely day of travel and chatter, and Merlin yelling at Gwaine for flicking him on the back of the neck every once in a while.

It’s midafternoon when Merlin catches the flinch from the corner of his eye. True to his word, he’s avoided glancing at Arthur unless they’re talking, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t kept an eye on him. He waits, and catches Arthur rolling his shoulders a bit. Merlin leans over in a hushed tone, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Are you alright?” He called as quietly as he could.

Arthur shakes his head.

“Hurts.” He answered.

“Want to stop?” Merlin offered, even though he knew Arthur would say no. True to character, Arthur looked up at the daylight they’d be wasting and refused.

“Okay.” Merlin nodded, glancing back at Leon, overwhelmingly glad for the plans they’d made. He steers his horse off to the side, letting the knight at the back take the lead from him and tie it to his own.

“Thanks, Jamie.” Jameson had been informed, along with the rest of the knights, of this new protocol. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that they had all physically relaxed when they’d heard that Arthur wouldn’t be allowed to ride by himself the entire time.

Merlin speed walks back up toward the front, the rest of the party giving him time and room.

“Do you mind?” He asked, as he caught up to Arthur.

Arthur glances down at him with a confused look. Which is to be expected, because the only person who was not informed of this plan was the King.

“Letting me up?” Merlin asked, raising a hand. Arthur, with that same look, helped him. Merlin had been expecting a fight, but was glad he hadn’t given one. Then again, maybe that speaks to how tired he is.

“What are you doing?” Arthur questioned as Merlin settled himself behind him on Chestnut.

“Making you rest. Lean back.” He wrapped either arm around Arthur, taking the reins from him. Surprising Merlin once again, Arthur obliged once again. He sank into Merlin’s chest, although not fully. “Shh, calm down, darling.” Merlin whispered, feeling the tension of the boy in front of him. He could physically feel his hesitation. “It was Leon’s idea. You aren’t to be alone on your horse for more than you can handle. All the knights seemed relieved to hear that you’d be safer, and in less pain.” Arthur seemed to take a deep breath. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Merlin reassured. This seemed to be all Arthur needed, because he leaned back fully now, and his head found a place in the crook of Merlin’s neck.

Damn.

Merlin had been right.

They fit together perfectly.

It feels as though Merlin had been made to hold Arthur. It feels as though he’d been waiting all his life to feel as complete as he does right now.

“Is this okay?” Arthur asked timidly.

“Perfect.” Merlin answered. “Just rest, darling. I’ll look after you.”

Arthur didn’t go to sleep, Merlin could tell, but he seemed relaxed enough for it not to matter. After Arthur had half-nodded off, Leon joined them at the front of the party.

“Told you so.” He mouthed after he’d caught Merlin’s gaze. Merlin rolls his eyes.

But it’s true, isn’t it? Arthur hadn’t even bothered to complain. His only hesitation had been the judgment of his knights, which really shouldn’t have been, considering how much they all love him.

Merlin remembers the terrified energy of the castle when Arthur had come home half-dead. The castle had seemed darker, somehow, with the panic of it. The kitchens had fallen quiet. Not that Merlin had been down there a lot during that time.

But when word spread that Arthur was awake, it hadn’t just made Merlin rejoice and relax. It seemed as though the whole castle had finally caught its breath. Oh, how the knights had cheered! At least, the good ones. Uther’s hadn’t even moved. Perhaps they had been hoping the opposite? Merlin supposes it doesn’t matter now, because they are dismissed and Arthur is King, so the joke is on them.

Even since Arthur had become King, the energy of all of Camelot has changed. It is as if the people are coming back to life. The bustle of the town, which Arthur and Merlin have been walking though daily, seems busier and happier. Everyone smiles, and no-one is afraid. That’s just sort of the effect that Arthur has, though. He leads his Kingdom with love, whilst Uther had ruled it with fear.

And now the King of Camelot is half-asleep in his servant’s arms, and Merlin is thanking every God he can think of that he met Arthur, all those years ago.

Chapter Text

When Leon announces it's time to set up camp, Merlin hates the disappointed feeling in his chest. But how could he help it, really? Arthur had been so close for so long, Merlin had even had the time to memorize how long Arthur’s calmed breaths are. How can Merlin help it, when his magic is practically radiating off of him in waves of joy?

Merlin helps Arthur down from his horse, then goes to help the others in setting up for the night. They’ll each eat rations for dinner, and hopefully will find something fresh to eat in the daylight of tomorrow.

When the camp is set up, and Gwaine and Percival volunteer to be on guard first, the knights begin to settle down. The laughter of the day begins to die out as exhaustion overtakes them.

Merlin is only just beginning to fall asleep when he hears movement near him. He opens his eyes a little, hating the brightness of the fire he sleeps near, and catches a flash of Arthur walking by. Shouldn’t he be asleep by now?

Although Merlin could guess that he might not want to take his sleeping tonic here, in front of all these people, despite Merlin having made sure it was packed. Arthur would probably attempt to fall asleep without it, which would take much longer.

Merlin is about to sit up to keep Arthur company when he hears hushed voices on the other side of the camp.

“No, no, no. Sit back down and go to sleep.” It was Gwaine, in a harsh whisper.

“What?” Arthur replied.

“You are still healing! You can’t go off on your own now, when you can’t…” He might’ve trailed off, or perhaps he spoke too quietly for Merlin to make it out.

“Sorry? Why would you be leaving?” Percival chimed in now, which is good, because Merlin was just about to ask the same question.

“I’m going, and that’s final.” Arthur ignored the question, nearly growling with his words.

“No, you’re not.” Gwaine said, “And if you feel like fighting me for it, you can. I will not let you be put into danger. You aren’t just a prince now. What happens to Camelot if you die?”

Die? Why would he be dying? Where is Arthur trying to go? Merlin’s heart is beating fast now, fully awake. Arthur is most definitely not going anywhere alone.

“Nothing is going to happen! I’ll be close enough you could even hear me yell out, there is nothing to worry about.” Arthur whisper-yelled. Then, a moment later, “Move, Gwaine.”

“Absolutely not. These forests are dangerous at night, and you are not well enough to defend yourself. If I need to knock you out, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Arthur said. Merlin watched on his side from where he laid. Gwaine raised an eyebrow, then caught Merlin’s eye. Merlin gave a nod, already answering the question Gwaine was asking. Of course he was going. Arthur would never be alone in this damned forest again.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. I guess you can go.” Gwaine said, after looking back up to Arthur.

“What?” Arthur asked, sounding surprised.

“You’re my King. I apologize if I overstepped.” Gwaine said. Laying it on a little thick there, Merlin thought. Arthur started turning to look around the camp, and Merlin quickly closed his eyes.

“Alright.” Arthur said slowly. “I’ll return shortly then.” Gwaine nodded and stepped aside, returning next to Percival.

“Sorry, we’re just letting the King go off on his own?” Percy asked. Gwaine nodded.

“Looks like it.” He said with a shrug. Arthur took off, and Merlin scrambled to his feet. “Thanks.” Gwaine nodded at Merlin. Merlin frowned and nodded back, walking carefully into the forest after Arthur.

It is not long at all before Arthur very clearly realizes he’s being followed. Must be only ten minutes of walking before Merlin snaps a branch and Arthur turns so quickly that he hardly has time to hide behind a tree.

“Who’s there?” Arthur’s voice called out, steady as it always is.

Merlin has to count the seconds carefully, because he knows Arthur will be stepping too quietly to hear. But he also knows how long it takes Arthur to approach someone. If he can time it just right—

“Come out!” Arthur’s voice rang out again.

Merlin slipped around the thick trunk of the tree just as Arthur peaked around it. He heard a soft sigh. When Arthur pulls back, away from the tree, Merlin has to again sidestep to hide from being spotted.

Of course, he could just come out.

But really, if Arthur is so adamant on taking this journey alone, Merlin wants to leave him be. He only wants to poke his head out if bandits arrive from the shadows.

Except Arthur, endlessly clever and rightfully paranoid, purposefully makes himself nearly impossible to track. He speeds up his walking to a near jog, turning suddenly and looping at random. It’s all Merlin can do to follow him, let alone have time to wait or hide. This, of course, was Arthur’s plan, and it isn’t long until Merlin takes one swift turn and finds himself face to face with his King.

“Merlin!” He screeched in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Merlin stumbled back in surprise, catching himself against a tree and flashing a plastered-on smile.

“Oh, just, wandering,” He lied, not sounding sincere in the slightest, “Funny seeing you here!” Arthur’s eyes narrowed more, if that was possible.

“Why are you glaring at me?” Merlin asked, feigning ignorance.

“I’m hoping you’ll spontaneously combust.” Arthur answered, turning on his heel. “C’mon, might as well stop following me like a lost dog. You’re really no good at being quiet, are you?”

Merlin giggled, having to take a few large steps to catch up to an already walking Arthur.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked. Now that he’d been caught, might as well find out what they’re sneaking to in the dead of night.

“Gwaine didn’t tell you?” Arthur asked, glancing at Merlin and giving him a funny look.

“No. Didn’t really ask.” He informed him.

“But he sent you to follow me anyway.” Arthur pouted. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Not really. He saw I was still awake, and he let you go.” He’d thought for a moment about defending the position that the King shouldn’t be alone in the woods, but Arthur already knew that. And that’s not really why Merlin is here, anyway. “I think he just knew I’d follow you naturally. I think it’s part of my charm.” He gave a wide smile, turning just in time to catch Arthur roll his eyes now.

“I think it’s infuriating.” He scoffed.

“Oh, c’mon, you love me.” Merlin teased, sounding a little more breathless than he meant to as he ended the sentence with what had meant to be a joke. It sounded more like a hope, though. Like a question.

“I hate you.” Arthur answered, stomping ahead even faster now. But his voice was less angry and more teasing, so Merlin took this in stride, and caught up once again.

“Why? I’m lovely!” Merlin argued, glancing at Arthur to see a small smile. He also saw, for the first time, a bouquet in his left hand.

“What are the flowers for?” Merlin asked curiously. Arthur only shrugged. They didn’t talk again until Arthur stopped, seemingly deciding that they had reached their destination.

Then, as if to make a strange night even stranger, Arthur disarms himself. Merlin watches in surprise as he drops his sword and dagger softly on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Merlin questioned, mouth agape. Arthur sighed before he answered.

“Paying my respects.”

Arthur’s voice is so hollow and soft that for a moment Merlin does not recognize it, or what it could possibly mean. It’s only when Merlin looks up from the weapons on the ground to Arthur’s face that he finally understands where they are. Arthur is wearing the expression Merlin sees on him only when he’s just woken from a nightmare.

From the nightmares, about the druids.

“Do you want me to stay with these?” Merlin tries to sound gentle and unimposing. He is glad he’s here to protect Arthur, of course, but no wonder he wanted to be here alone! This is the place that keeps haunting him each night. This is the camp of the druid slaughter.

“Up to you. Just be quiet, please.”

Merlin is torn. He wants to let Arthur have his space, but how could he risk leaving him alone? He resolves to stand far enough away not to hear him, but close enough to keep him in his eyeline.

Merlin watches from afar as Arthur crouches, bending to his knees. Much like he had when riding horses earlier, Merlin forces himself to look away, to keep his eyes focused on the treeline.

This becomes extremely difficult to maintain when not ten minutes later, he hears Arthur violently sobbing. Just like he always does when Arthur is having nightmares, Merlin runs to him.

Arthur seems to sense Merlin standing behind him, about to reach out, because he calms down enough to speak.

“I killed them. They’re dead because of me.” Arthur whispered, not looking behind him. “I come here, as if apologizing enough will bring them back. But nothing will. They’ll be buried here, forever, because of me.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say to this, so he can only sit himself carefully beside Arthur.

It’s a sort of puzzle that Merlin hadn’t bothered to solve before, but it all clicks into place now. The thing Arthur is crouched in front of, is a headstone. Merlin recognizes the druidic words immediately. ‘Thirty-eight’ is inscribed, in careful, perfect handwriting, surrounded by flowers Merlin has seen only at druid camps. He remembers now that day in town, so long ago, when the stonemason had given Arthur a ring inscribed with those same flowers. He’d mentioned a ‘stone’ hadn’t he? And this hadn’t just appeared here, had it? Arthur must have visited this camp before. Merlin looks more carefully in the darkness and can make out the dying flowers Arthur must have left here last time he’d visited.

Even now, as Arthur looks down at the headstone, eyes pinched shut in remorse, Merlin can see him twisting that floral ring, both hands in his lap. And so it’s instinct—Merlin reaches his hand across to cover both of Arthur’s, holding them still. It’s a few moments later that Arthur looks up.

He is waiting for Merlin to say something. Or perhaps Merlin has been waiting to say something. Merlin decides that this isn’t a time for waiting.

“Grief can destroy a person.” Merlin said finally. His voice is soft, but it’s time he said the words he’s been thinking since the nightmares began. Or, more accurately, since Arthur had told him the story of the druids. The story of the slaughter. The story of the saving. “I think you were meant to be hurt by this. To sit with your pain for a while. Maybe as a punishment. Maybe so that you would shed an old skin. You have grown so much, aged so quickly. You are much wiser than you have ever been before. It did not come with the crown, Arthur. It came with the loss. But I think this has taught you all it can, and you have said all you can. I think this will drown you, now, if you let it.” It’s time to move on, he thought quietly. It’s time to let this go, because you must. Because there is nothing left for you here but a graveyard. And they cannot hear you.

Except, just as Merlin thinks this, he feels it.

It’s like a tug at his magic, pulling him towards it. Perhaps they can hear Arthur after all. Perhaps they have been waiting for him, here.

“I can still feel it. The magic here.” Merlin said softly, listening to the buzz and feeling the ebb and flow of it.

“Wha…Really?” Arthur asked. Merlin nods as he feels them tug him further. Merlin has to close his eyes to focus, he feels their magic pouring into him, he feels them asking him to help, asking him to show. He puts his free hand to the ground and they surge through him. His magic sings with it, and a thousand moments and memories stream into his mind.

“Merlin?” Arthur called out. His voice felt far away, but still it was interrupting.

“Shh.” Merlin answered, focusing even more. He beckoned them, welcomed them.

Of course I will help. Be kind to him, please. He has done all he can.

When he opened his eyes again, magic streaming through and over and out of him, the world had gone golden. It isn’t until he hears Arthur gasp beside him that Merlin can put what he’s seeing into focus.

The graveyard is dancing with golden shadows, outlines of people that once were. He doesn’t bother to count; he knows there are thirty-eight people here.

Merlin looks at Arthur, watching carefully. His eyes jump from person to person, filling with tears that he doesn’t seem aware of.

A woman across the yard, sitting against a tree with a gentle smile, looks up and seems to train her eyes on Arthur. She moves toward him soundlessly, then crouches on the other side of the headstone, mirroring Arthur.

“I know you.” She said simply.

Please, be kind. Merlin says again. She does not even glance at him, keeps her eyes only on Arthur.

It turns out Merlin needn’t have worried, because her next words are spoken so gently that they seem to have lived on the tip of her tongue for a very long time.

“You saved my children.” She says. She reaches out, cups a hand to Arthur’s cheek. Merlin watches in relief and delight as she holds Arthur’s head still when he tries to disagree. “Your eyes hold too much sadness for someone so kind.” Both of their eyes close and she puts her forehead to his. It’s such an intimate moment and Merlin is so overwhelmingly relieved that he only sits and watches, so grateful that the druids had reached out to him.

And then Arthur collapses onto the ground.

What have you done?

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

He continues to scream at her, but she does not respond.

She stands gracefully, giving another gentle smile to a seemingly comatose Arthur, and fades from sight. Merlin looks around the camp, but all the golden glowing druids fade along with the woman.

The extra magic that had been pumping through him drains away, too, and it seems that they have apparently said all that needs saying.

Merlin leans over Arthur, unsure what to do. Just as he reaches to shake him, Arthur’s eyes open.

“Arthur?” Merlin gasped, relaxing immediately, “You, you collapsed!” He pulled Arthur up and into his arms. “She, she, touched your head, and then…” He trails off, because Arthur is laughing. Really, actually laughing. Not the giggle Merlin has to tease him into, not the half-laughs that fade into a faraway stare. This is Arthur from years ago, when they were just boys and the weight of the world had not yet landed on their shoulders.

Merlin holds him tighter. Inhales the stars and the moon and the smell of flowers and Arthur, this excited and happy and young Arthur.

Thank you, He whispers, Thank you.

He hears a fading hum in response.

“Alright. Alright. I suppose it is time to head back.” Arthur said, sometime later, after his giddy relief had ebbed a bit. Merlin nodded, swinging an arm around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “Thank you,” Arthur said, looking back down at the headstone, “I’m so sorry for what’s been done to you. But… thank you for your forgiveness.”

It seems for a moment that Arthur is done talking, and they turn away. Arthur leans back for a moment though, and speaks out so quietly that Merlin barely catches it:

“You will not be forgotten. I promise.”

Merlin wonders what she’d said, what she’d done to him to patch him up so well in the way Merlin could not. He’s not jealous, though, he can only find room to be glad. Arthur doesn’t explain to him what had happened when he’d collapsed, and Merlin doesn’t ask.

“We’ve been gone far too long.” Merlin said, as Arthur picked up his sword and dagger. Arthur nods and they walk quietly together.

As they near their campsite, Arthur breaks the silence that had stretched the journey.

“What was that? The gold dust?” Arthur asked.

“I’m not sure.” Merlin answered honestly. “I just, felt the magic, in the ground.” This sounded a bit ridiculous and altogether too vague, so he added, "Like it was dancing.”

“Was that woman real?” Arthur questioned. He looked down to his shoes, as if already doubting the forgiveness he’d received.

“Looked real to me.” Merlin answered, feeling this sufficed. Arthur must agree, because he does not ask anything more.

Gwaine, on the other hand, has plenty of questions when they arrive. He stops pacing to turn toward them, hands on his hips. For a moment, Merlin gets a flash of memory of his mother, scolding him for being late for dinner.

“About time!” Gwaine exclaimed, voice two octaves higher than usual. “Where have you two been?”

“I’m sorry, Gwaine. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Arthur said sincerely. This seems to calm him. He runs a hand through his hair, looks at Percival, sighs deeply.

“Lay down, both of you. I don’t want to hear another peep ‘til morning.” He scolds. Merlin and Arthur nod dutifully, passing him and making their way to their designated blankets. Gwaine and Percy return to the other side of the camp, and Merlin, following his orders, lies down.

After all the excitement of the night, he’s surprised when the wind runs a sudden chill through him. Merlin huddles under his blankets, staring up at the sky.

Maybe now, he thinks, now that things are perhaps more settled and stable. Maybe soon he could tell Arthur how he feels. Shouldn’t he? Couldn’t he?

He’d only really thought about it in passing moments, since the night of Uther’s attack. The night when he’d stood practicing a speech in Arthur’s room like an idiot when Arthur was being beaten to a pulp just downstairs. Maybe since then Merlin just lost his nerve, or perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps he was worried the words were a curse somehow. A trap that Merlin could not escape.

And yet, today, when Arthur had been so close, for so long…It felt like they should always be that way. That close. Merlin can only explain it in the way he’d used to, when he was still in denial of his all too obvious feelings: that Arthur felt like another piece of him.

They just fit together, in a way that others can’t. Merlin thinks of the druids. What did they use to say, when he’d run into them?

Two sides of the same coin?

“Be quiet, Merlin.” Arthur whispered harshly, shaking Merlin from his thoughts.

“What?” Merlin scoffed, “I haven’t even said anything!”

“Then you’re thinking too loudly.” Arthur huffed.

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are! And I can hear you shivering from here.” Merlin could make out the tired teasing in Arthur’s voice.

“Only because your royal arse decided to steal the warmest blankets.” Merlin teased in return.

“That’s not true!” Arthur defended.

“It is. You’ve stolen them all, and now your poor servant is going to freeze to death!” He taunted.

A moment of silence passes, and for a moment Merlin wonders if Arthur had fallen asleep mid-conversation. Then, softly, he called out.

“We can share it, if you want?”

It takes Merlin completely by surprise, but he doesn’t miss a beat, already moving to gather his things.

“What, really?” Merlin asked, as if he was going to lie back down. Arthur didn’t respond, but Merlin was already standing over him anyway. “Well, c’mon, scoot over then,” Merlin said, and Arthur’s eyes blinked open, “Hurry up, I’m freezing to death!”

Immediately Arthur moved over, lifting the blanket so that Merlin could crawl under beside him. Merlin put his own blankets atop Arthur’s, then slid in next to him.

“Oh, this is much better.” Merlin said, feeling warmer. Warmer, but not just from the blanket. Warmer, but not just on his skin. It feels almost like something that has long gone cold is warming. Like something broken inside him could be put back together.

Both men lied on their sides, facing each other. Merlin opened his mouth to say thank you, but lost his train of thought with Arthur’s blue blue eyes so very close to him. It is only when a few moments pass that Merlin realizes Arthur is still only half-lying down, clearly holding himself up.

“Come on now, Arthur, at least pretend to lay down.” Merlin half-teased, half-begged. He wondered if in a moment Arthur would come back to his senses and ask him to go away.

Instead, Arthur takes his advice with a nod, shifting to lay fully on the ground, head positioned against Merlin’s upper chest. Merlin, meanwhile, lies on his back, his right arm tucked under his head, his left wanting so badly to wrap around Arthur.

When Arthur tilts his head back to look up at Merlin, the firelight dances off of Arthur’s eyes, and how could Merlin ever not be here? How could anything exist outside of this perfect moment?

“Do I insult you too much?” Arthur asked, seemingly out of the blue. Merlin closed his eyes.

“I don’t think so.” Merlin said, then added with a small smile, “Unless you mean it.”

“I don’t.” Arthur said quickly. Merlin nodded. “But it wouldn’t be true, even if I had meant it. I’d be making a liar out of myself.”

Merlin didn’t open his eyes but smiled a toothy grin. Arthur has always had a way with words. Even though Merlin is the one who is always doing all the talking, when Arthur speaks, it’s like each word he says he’s thought about a hundred times over.

There is just something so elegant about Arthur.

“I mean it,” Arthur went on, “Everything you’ve done…I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the Kingdom you’re helping me build.” Merlin’s eyes open and he tilts his head to look down at Arthur, who is already looking up at him. “But even if you hadn’t done it, even if you didn’t have magic, I’d still think so highly of you. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met. And I…” Arthur trails off. Merlin breathes in but can’t find it in himself to breathe out, to break this moment, to advance it even a second. He lies there, his lungs frozen, waiting. He is always waiting, it seems.

“Just, thanks, is all.” Arthur said eventually, in a rushed voice. “For staying by my side all these years. I know it can’t have been easy.” Merlin breathed out finally in a disappointed sigh even though he shouldn’t be disappointed at all.

Arthur turned to lay on his back and Merlin had to fight the sudden, strange urge to kiss his forehead.

“It’s not hard to be by your side. It’s the easiest thing in the world.” Merlin whispered. He saw Arthur smile up at the sky, and Merlin once again closed his eyes.

He fell asleep easily.

His dreams were gray, until they weren’t.

It’s not very long later, Merlin thinks, when someone starts talking—Must be Gaius, waking him. Merlin strains to listen through the haze of his sleep.

“I tell the stars about you. I don't know how to explain it better than that.” Came the voice, burying itself in Merlin’s dreams. It didn’t sound like Gaius.

Probably not important, Merlin thought lazily, and promptly fell back asleep.

Chapter Text

Merlin, after all these years waking before dawn, is up before almost everyone else. Today is different than any other, however, because he wakes with Arthur cuddling into his chest, still fast asleep.

It’s a difficult decision to unentangle himself from the beautiful boy beside him, but Merlin doesn’t want Arthur to wake startled or embarrassed—or, even worse, regretful for allowing them to sleep side by side at all. So Merlin carefully slips out from under their shared blankets and stands, stretching.

Jamie and Leon are on guard, though Jamie is out by a small pond, further away. Leon gives a small wave accompanied by an awfully smug smile.

“Morning,” Merlin yawns as he greets Leon, “Anything interesting happen yet?”

Leon’s eyebrow raises even higher.

“I’m not sure. Certainly something interesting must have happened, hm?”

Merlin rolls his eyes.

“It isn’t like that.” Merlin said, although he himself isn’t quite convinced. They were cuddling after all. Not that he wanted to pick it apart, or size it up to be more than it was. Unless it was something! Was it something? Merlin couldn’t decide. But the way Arthur was looking at him last night, and for a moment, Merlin had thought he was about to say something…

“Sure, sure.” Leon agreed good-naturedly. Merlin rolled his eyes again, but sat down next to him on the rather big rock he was perched on.

“How long have you been on shift?” He asked, wanting a severe change of subject.

“A few hours. You were sleeping the whole time with—” Merlin gave Leon a light punch to the arm, making him laugh. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get! If you must know, I was really cold.”

“You’re always cold.” Leon pointed out. This is true.

“Yes, well, not for the rest of last night, I wasn’t.”

“Oh, I bet.” He chuckled. Merlin gave his arm another punch. “Ow!” he exclaimed again. Then, calmer, he went on, “How is he? Well enough to travel today?”

Merlin’s eyes darted back towards a still sleeping Arthur, not that his eyes ever entirely left him.

“I think he’s doing alright, actually. He didn’t seem to have a problem with the horse sharing yesterday,” Merlin punched Leon again as he opened his mouth to give a tease, “And I think he is looking better. The sunshine is doing him good. I wish we didn’t have to travel so far, but I think he’s enjoying being outside for so long.”

Leon nodded.

One or two knights begin to stir, beginning to pack up their things or stretch as the sun begins to break dawn.

“I think it’s nice for everyone,” He responded, “We haven’t had a proper journey in far too long. Not since Camelot’s proper King took the throne.” Merlin smiled at the slight directed to Uther’s memory.

“I suppose that’s true. There’s been quite the turnover of knights since then, right?” Merlin asked. Leon nodded again. He gave a tiny shove to Merlin, who immediately spotted what Leon had pointed out: Arthur awoke.

When Arthur looks up at him, Merlin can’t help but smile. Arthur returns it easily.

Merlin performed a quiet spell, making Leon shift in surprise next to him.

“Heads up!” Merlin called to Arthur, throwing the freshly made plum toward him.

“C’mon, have a bit of sense, people are still sleeping!” Leon scolds. Merlin ignores him in favor of watching Arthur have to lean all the way back in order to catch the fruit. He gives a little cheer and mouths a thank-you. Merlin giggles, because really, how is he supposed to help it?

“I’ll never understand how you two get anything done when you’re always too busy—OW!” Merlin glared at a now much quieter Leon, who is rubbing his arm, teasingly cradling it from the light punch it's just received.

Merlin and Leon continue laughing and planning and lightly punching each other—Leon is the only person Merlin really does this with—for most of the morning. Eventually Arthur gets up and walks to join them.

“Good morning!” He greeted them, a wide, carefree smile sitting freely on his face. Merlin revels in it.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Leon asked, a small, almost teasing smirk on his face. Merlin glares at him.

“Finally slept well.” Arthur answered, surprisingly unbothered by Leon’s suggestive tone. He sits down on the other side of Merlin.

“Hm, wonder what caused that.” Leon chuckled. Merlin’s going to kill him later.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Merlin said harshly, desperate for a change of subject. Leon seemed happy to finally relent, and switched to his more professional, stern tone as he explained their route.

“It’s another day of travel. I’m hoping to reach Serpent’s Pass before nightfall. If we can make it past that before we make camp, we should reach King Stephan by the afternoon on the following day.” Leon explained. As soon as the words fell from Leon’s mouth, Merlin felt a restriction in his throat.

“Serpent’s Pass?” Merlin said the words, trying to remember where he’d heard it before. It seems so familiar! “I feel like I’ve heard of that before. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“Maybe. More commonly known as Dead Man’s Fields?” Leon tried. Merlin shook his head. Serpent’s Pass…He can’t recall.

“Bad feeling?” Arthur asked, his voice concerned. Merlin isn’t sure. Was it that it was a rare sanctuary in the forest? There are a few, if one knows where to look. Could that be where Merlin is remembering the name?

At last, Merlin shakes his head in response to Arthur’s question, “I’m not sure. Maybe Gaius has mentioned it. Just sounds familiar, is all.”

“Alright. How long should we let the knights sleep?” Arthur asked Leon.

“I’d give them another half hour. I’m hoping this fog will clear by then.” Leon said. Merlin looked around. He hadn’t really noticed the fog. He’d been entirely too wrapped up in thoughts about Arthur.

“Alright. But I’m going to wake Gwaine. I’m hoping we can hunt something suitable to wake the knights with some excitement.” Arthur said. Leon raised an eyebrow. “And I’ll bring Merlin for my protection?” Arthur offered, half-begging. Merlin should probably feel a little affronted by being volunteered without having been asked, but he didn’t mind really. He would have stayed by Arthur either way. Leon’s expression, meanwhile, didn’t change. “And Percy?” Arthur added hopefully. Leon smiled, and Merlin giggled at Arthur’s excitement of his approval.

“Find me some deer, will you? I’m starving!” Leon teased.

“C’mon, Merlin. Let’s go wake Percival.” Arthur stood, then held his hand out to help Merlin up. Merlin took it, and his magic bubbled into his arm, happily reaching for contact. Arthur smiled. Can’t you feel it? Merlin wondered, can’t you feel it pulsing through me like a storm?

Arthur let go when Merlin stood fully up, and they walked towards a still sleeping Percival.

“Can we scare him?” Merlin asked mischievously. Arthur chuckles quietly, and nods. Both men kneel on either side of him, and lean their faces over his.

“Wake up, Percy.” Arthur said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Percival’s eyes snap open, and he nearly jumps when he sees Merlin and Arthur hovering over him, who begin cackling.

“Oh, get off!” Percival said, but he’s laughing just as hard as Merlin and Arthur. “Oh, oh, oh, let’s do Gwaine!” He whispered excitedly, looking at his still asleep friend.

Merlin thinks this is a very bad idea. Gwaine is one of his oldest friends now, and they really shouldn’t—

They were all standing far too near, specifically Percy, and barely jumped away in time before Gwaine began swiping his knife madly in his abrupt rousal.

“Oh!” He said as he fully awoke, after having already been standing. “Oh. Uh, sorry.” He said, more sheepish.

Merlin forced a giggle, which made a nervous looking Percy let out a chuckle.

Are you alright? Merlin asked. Gwaine couldn’t respond in his mind, but he did give a subtle nod and smile to Merlin and, when Arthur looked away, a wink. Merlin grinned.

“So, why would you imbeciles wake me so early?” He asked, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

“Up for a bit of early morning hunting?” Percival asked in return, having already been filled in on the plans.

“Always!” Gwaine answered with his easy smile. Merlin leads the way as the other three stop to grab crossbows. They head away from the camp by foot, not planning to go far.

“So what were you two up to last night?” Percy asked, as he walked alongside Merlin. Merlin glanced behind him; Gwaine and Arthur are already busy in hushed conversation.

“He just wanted to go for a stroll.” Merlin answered casually.

“Fine, don’t tell. Always so many secrets!” Percy teased, pretending to look offended. Merlin patted his back and they laughed together. Percy has never been one to have to know things. He just asks, Merlin thinks, to keep a conversation going. Which Merlin has certainly never minded. Percy is just so easy to get along with.

“D’yah hear that?” Percy asked Merlin, then held up a hand to quiet the others. Merlin listened. He didn’t hear a thing. Percy clearly did, though, because he fired an arrow. He left to collect his prize and returned with a turkey.

“Oh, c’mon, we didn’t have to kill it!” Merlin half-whined, “It wasn’t even doing anything!”

Arthur ruffled his hair and they collectively ignored his protests.

One more turkey later, the men decided they should probably head back to camp, before Leon has a chance to chastise them.

“Have you ever noticed how he raises his eyebrow and lowers his voice when he’s scolding us? Just like Gaius!” Merlin exclaimed. The party laughed.

“Still being scolded by Gaius, are you?” Gwaine teased. Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but fell quiet. Something is wrong.

The four walk alongside each other, but Merlin sensed it moments before he saw it.

Bandits.

Before they’ve even jumped out, Merlin is already shielding Arthur behind him.

Not today.

Protect Arthur. He must protect Arthur. He will never be hurt in this damned forest again.

Rach air ais!

Merlin couldn’t help it—his hand was in the air before he’d even blinked.

All eight of the bandits go flying upwards and backwards, as if the wind has turned on them. Each continues until a tree stops them, and once they hit the bark, they drop to the ground.

Merlin takes a few steps forward, scanning the trees to look for more. He also watched to see if any of the bandits attempted to get up, fully ready to snap their necks this time.

He’s breathing hard, as if he’s just run a marathon. But his magic settles like a cat having only just stretched. For a moment, he worried that he’d killed them. Then he decided that it didn’t matter. And that’s what really worried him.

“I think that’s all of them.” He said finally, turning to the others. Arthur held his sword as if he’d forgotten it, and was staring at Merlin with eyes so wide that Merlin took a step backwards. I’m not a threat, he wanted to explain, I was only protecting you. But even that felt like a lie.

Percival and Gwaine give Merlin a pat on the back, but Merlin barely notices. He has not broken eye contact with Arthur, who has not blinked.

“Wow.” Arthur finally said.

Is that it? Is he angry? Disappointed? Scared? Oh, Gods, is Arthur afraid of him?

Merlin cannot imagine a worse fate.

“You could do that this whole time?” Arthur breathed out. Merlin tried to paste a confident smile, but it faded so quickly that he doubted Arthur had even seen it.

“It’s much easier to protect you when I don’t have to focus half my energy into hiding it.” Merlin answered defensively with a shrug.

Merlin forces himself to turn away, to follow the others, who have walked ahead to give him and Arthur space. He closes his eyes briefly, head dropping in some private semblance of shame.

This is when Arthur wraps an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. He hadn’t realized they were shaking. Merlin glances at him to see him smiling.

But they don’t speak again until they reach camp. Merlin wonders if Arthur has finally seen past his fireplace magic tricks and found the true darkness of Merlin’s powers.

After the previous day of travel and rations, the men are overjoyed for the feast of turkey stew, prepared and eaten as quickly as possible. Leon keeps badgering everyone about running behind schedule. All in all, it’s a nice morning.

When they finally set off, Arthur and Merlin lead from the front, as always.

But they don’t really talk about anything at all. The energy between them is different. Arthur seems nervous, almost fidgety? Is it because of last night? Is it because of this morning? Merlin keeps teasing Arthur about the way he’d struggled to mount Chestnut this morning, because he can’t think of anything else to say and he’s so so desperate to make Arthur laugh.

He has to stop eventually, because Gwaine complains he’s been talking about it for too long. Meanwhile Arthur is glancing at him every few minutes. He seems to be going for subtlety, but Merlin is tuned in to Arthur so much so that he easily notices the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes. This all to say, of course, that he can’t help but catch how often Arthur is looking at him today.

It must be because of this morning. This is what fear looks like, isn’t it? Isn’t this what the knights are doing to Aviana, at the back of the party? Glancing every so often to see if she’s moving or planning or plotting? Has he finally made Arthur afraid of him?

In any case Arthur is now refusing to share a horse, so that must mean something. Merlin even leans over to check on him—voice more shaky than usual—but Arthur declines every time. Is this because he is feeling better? Or is it because he doesn’t want Merlin that close to him?

“How is Aviana?” Arthur asked Leon, around midday. Merlin looked back to her, as Leon replied. She is staring off into nothing, fingers trembling. But she doesn’t speak. She’s gone mad.

“She hasn’t caused any problems. Whatever sanity she had, she left in the Camelot Dungeons.” Leon answered, then separately, “We’re making good time today. We should reach Serpent’s Pass shortly.”

“Any funny feelings?” Arthur whispered to Merlin. Merlin was surprised for a moment. Does he trust Merlin? Or is he simply desperate for a solution? Either way, Merlin hesitantly shook his head. It’s not a funny feeling so much as a foggy memory of reading the word somewhere.

“I don’t know. I can’t place it. I wish I’d known the route before we left, I might’ve researched it.” He answered.

“You’ll be informed from now on. Sorry, Merlin.” Leon chimed in, matching Arthur’s whisper. Merlin chuckled at his plain interruption and nodded.

“How is it already late afternoon?” Gwaine spoke up suddenly from behind them. Merlin, like everyone else in the party, looked up, expecting to find the sun directly above them. Instead he sees the sun already halfway setting. But there are no sunset colors in the sky, it’s as blue as it should be—except for the fact that the sun is in the wrong place.

Distantly, he heard Leon murmur something, but Merlin is far too busy itching his brain, desperately trying to remember anything about Serpent’s Pass. It’s too foggy and far away, like a memory he can’t quite recall.

“Arthur, I think we should go back.” Merlin said. Arthur held up a hand to stop the party.

“Leon?” Arthur questioned, not taking his eyes off the setting sun.

“I agree, we’ll find another route. Especially so if Merlin thinks we should, Sire.” Leon agreed. Merlin and Arthur exchanged a glance, and went around the party, so that they would still be at the front as they all went back the way they came. They picked up speed, trying to hurry their escape.

Merlin knew even as they began that it would not work. Still, he followed Arthur’s lead. Until even Arthur pulled up short.

“Why’d you stop?” Merlin asked.

“Didn’t we just pass this rock?” Arthur said, pointing. Merlin raised his eyebrows.

“I’m…I’m not sure.” He answered honestly.

Serpent’s pass. Where has he heard it before? He scrunched his eyes closed, trying to force a memory into his head. Still, nothing.

“Surely we can’t be lost,” Gwaine said, “We’ve only been going straight.”

Merlin shakes his head, giving up. He has to focus on now. He has to get them out of here. He has to keep Arthur safe. “Something’s wrong.” He said, dismounting his horse. He went to inspect the rock, the dirt, trying to feel for magic in them. His fingers buzzed. Is it something? He feels overwhelmed, as though he is losing his mind.

He turns back to Arthur and the knights, who are all staring at him. When his eyes widen at the sky, the rest of the heads turn. Everyone all at once sees that the sun, which they’d been riding away from, is now in front of them again.

“Wasn’t that just behind us?” Percival called out.

“What should we do?” Arthur asked Merlin. Merlin just kept shaking his head. What should they do? Had the forest looped itself around them?

Serpent’s Pass, Serpent’s Pass, Serpent’s Pass…How to escape Serpent’s Pass?

“I…I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s going on!” Merlin exclaimed, defensive and riled up. His magic was in his throat, choking him. Warning him. But it’s too late, isn’t it? It’s already happening. What else is there to do?

“We have to get out of here.” Gwaine said.

“No,” Arthur shook his head, “It’s clear the forest isn’t letting us. We might as well continue forward, and see what’s changing our path.” Arthur cleared his throat, then spoke loud enough for the rest of the knights to hear his command. “We’ll continue on our original path. Draw your swords, stay vigilant.” Everyone nodded, drawing their swords.

Merlin mounted his horse. Serpent’s pass. What’s the rule with Serpent’s Pass? He remembers reading it in a book, something in Gaius’ collection…

“Looks a bit like a plum, doesn’t it?” Arthur said aloud to Merlin. Merlin looked around. He didn’t see any plums.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked. When he turned to Arthur, he saw that his eyes were trained on the setting sun ahead of them.

“The sun, looks like a plum.” He said again. Merlin looked again at the sun, still setting. The sky is still that bright blue, and the sun is as yellow as it should be at midday. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and he couldn’t help but glance worriedly at Arthur.

“...Because it’s a circle?”

“No, because of the color. Obviously. You clotpole.” Arthur defended, glaring at Merlin. Merlin stared at him, suddenly nervous. His magic creeped up his back, wrapping itself around his throat. It crawls up his head, into his ears, and the buzzing in his head is growing so loudly that he can barely hear his own voice, his own response.

“Plums aren’t yellow.” He said slowly.

“Yes, but obviously this one is a little—” Arthur stopped talking when he looked at the sun. “Oh.”

“Was it not yellow before?” Merlin asked, unable to keep the shake out of his voice. Does the sun change color in Serpent’s Pass?

“Forget it.” Arthur said, staring forward. Merlin, on the other hand, could not stop looking around. He isn’t sure what for. A witch perhaps? An exit? A way to keep his friends safe?

The buzzing is too loud now, his magic is burning him from the inside out. Merlin can’t help it, he has to start itching at his skin. It’s burning, he’s burning, it won’t stop.

Why won’t it stop?

He scratches his arms and face furiously, trying to claw his own magic out of him.

He can taste blood in his mouth, mixing with the endless stench of his magic. He can feel his tongue blistering from it. He is boiling, choking on it, melting and blistering. The pyre is inside him.

“Arthur?” He called out, ready to confess his darkness and beg for his own murder. He needs it to stop. Merlin needs the burning to stop. It’s—Gods, make it stop. Please, please, please make it stop.

“Just give me a second!” Came Arthur’s angry response. Even through the buzzing and relentless boiling of his own blood, Merlin forces himself to look up at Arthur, who is currently digging his palms into his eyes. The sight breaks Merlin’s focus off of himself. Arthur always comes first.

“Arthur?” He said, forcing his voice to be soft and kind, forcing himself to ignore the fact that his body is on fire.

“For the Gods’ sake—” Arthur looked up at last, only to look around wildly.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, reaching a tentative hand out to his friend. But Arthur’s gaze did not settle on him.

“Merlin?” Arthur yelled out, scanning the tree line, “Merlin!”

“Arthur? Look at me, please. I need to make sure you’re alright.” Merlin said slowly, unsure what to do. But Arthur would not settle, would not look at him. Merlin could see him white-knuckling the reins of his horse with one hand, while the other covered his long healed wound across his chest.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s eyes were so wide, looking desperately around him. His voice, on the other hand, was soft—as if he might scare Merlin away.

Merlin didn’t have time to react to this, because the knights behind him caught his attention. Much like Arthur, they seemed confused, and for lack of a better word, lost.

“Daisy!” Percival screamed, racing into the forest atop his horse.

“NO, NO, YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM!” Yelled Leon, rushing away, brandishing his sword ahead of him.

Gwaine, on the other hand, stood stock still, seemingly glaring at something in horror. Aviana is screeching, pulling at her chains wildly.

“Alright, everyone, you just have to calm down!” Merlin tried to explain, but half the knights were either screaming and charging into the forest or seemingly attempting to run away. “No! We’ve got to stay together!” Merlin said, then turned his attention back to Arthur.

Or, rather, where Arthur had been.

“Arthur?” He yelled. Where had he gone? Or has Merlin at last slipped into the state everyone else is in? He can’t tell. But there is no choice, is there? He must go after Arthur.

With one last look at everyone else, who seem to be losing their minds, Merlin rushes into the forest to find Arthur.

It isn’t long before the trees become too thick to continue on horseback. He ties her up carefully, then listens. Perhaps Arthur is still yelling out? Even so, there are so many voices now in this forest that Merlin can barely make out what anyone is saying. He steps carefully, trying to be aware of his surroundings. He seems lucid enough, right? Perhaps if he just focuses on his surroundings….

Merlin stops when he thinks he catches a glint of something between the trees up ahead. Perhaps armor, glinting in the sunlight? No, wait, that can’t be right, it’s dark out. When had that happened? Merlin can’t remember. He rushes toward where he saw the shimmer, but when arrives at it, it’s certainly not a knight’s armor.

It’s a mirror.

How can a mirror be here?

Merlin steps carefully toward it. Perhaps this is the secret to Serpent’s Pass? Perhaps there is some curse on this mirror?

Except, when Merlin is close enough to see his own reflection properly, the air leaves him. His magic leaves him.

It’s Merlin, standing there in the mirror, but somehow it’s also not. Or, not yet. Merlin senses instinctively that he is staring into his future.

The Merlin in the mirror has dark bags under his eyes. His cheeks are far more hollow, his eyes a dark glint of gold. The blue that had once been there is long gone. His hair is longer, reaching to his shoulders, in knotted waves of black.

Merlin takes a step back, afraid of his reflection. Mirror Merlin, however, takes a step forward.

“Coward. Look at you. How can you be afraid of this?” He said, his voice empty, unwavering. He took another step forward, leaving the mirror entirely. The reflections stare at each other. The Merlin from the mirror bounces magic between his fingers, but it is black and cloudy. His eyes gather specks of red as he shows off.

“I’m not afraid.” Merlin lied. His corrupt counterpart laughed mercilessly. His smile seemed to grow and grow, reaching to the corner of his face, and he bared his sharp teeth.

“You pretend to be so good, don’t you, Merlin? But I know the truth. And so do you. It’s eating you alive, isn’t it?” His voice was so blank, so uncaring. The buzzing and boiling returned. Merlin, meanwhile, felt tears gather in his eyes, and he took a step back. “How long will you keep up this silly little façade? They see it. They know. He knows. He’s afraid of you.” Merlin shook his head desperately, no, no, that’s not true— “But why shouldn’t he be? The longer you wait for the pyre, the longer you’ll be playing with fire.

At this, the monstrous warlock seemed to glow ever brighter. Flames licked up behind him, obeying his orders, balancing against his skin without burning him. Merlin ripped his eyes away long enough to see the state of the forest. It’s burning, and Merlin is choking on the smoke—

“You can’t escape it, Merlin. You can’t escape me. This is who you are.”

The flames left their master’s side, chasing after Merlin now. Merlin took another step back, nearly tripping on a rock. When he looked down at it though, he could see that it wasn’t a rock at all.

It was a plum.

What’s the rule about Serpent’s Pass? What did the book say?

Come on, Merlin, try to remember.

And suddenly, there it was. The poem came back to him.

Serpents may pass if they do not yield, beware your fear in a dead man’s field.

“NO!” The wicked grin slipped from the demon’s face, and he reached out to grab Merlin, but it was too late. Merlin closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. It isn’t real. None of it is real.

When Merlin opens his eyes again, the daylight has returned, and the sun is where it is supposed to be. And all at once, the thought smashing into him, Merlin remembers that Arthur is somewhere in this forest.

That is the trick to Serpent’s Pass, then. You can’t escape it if you remain afraid. But then, what? Do you remain in the forest until you go mad?

Merlin’s answer comes in the form of Jamie, lying on the forest floor.

“Jamie?” He calls out as he reaches the young knight. “Jameson?”

The man does not respond, nor will he ever. Merlin can’t find a wound on him, but he is very much dead.

A conversation with Gaius drifts back to Merlin— “Sometimes, if there is no wound, it may be something inside. Often, I have found, the heart simply gives out.”

So that’s it, then. Serpent’s Pass gives the fearful an early death by stopping the heart.

“Arthur!” Merlin calls out, more desperately than ever. “ARTHUR!”

Despite his need to find Arthur, Merlin knows he can’t leave his friend’s body out here on its own. He lifts Jamie up, and walks slowly toward the path he had raced away from.

It’s a long journey, but when he arrives he sees a few people already back.

“Merlin?” Leon said, looking up from the ground. His knees had been drawn to his chest, and head bowed and buried beneath his hands, but as soon as he spots Jamie’s body he launches up. “What happened to him?” He asked, voice rough and barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t find him fast enough. The forest will kill them, if they do not win out over their fears first.” Merlin said tonelessly. He can’t take his eyes off his friend. Had it really only been yesterday, when they last laughed together? It feels like a lifetime ago. What is even stranger is that they will never laugh together again. The thought feels so surreal that Merlin can barely dwell on it.

Leon nodded.

“Lay him down. We need to find the others.”

The command shakes Merlin out of his shock and he gives a curt nod.

“I need to find Arthur.”

They venture into the forest once again, calling out for their friends. Merlin stops calling for Arthur each time he spots a knight, having to coax them out of their terrors. One by one, the knights awaken, agreeing to help the search if they can. The inconsolable ones just walk toward the path and the horses, looking half-dead.

Every once in a while he will hear Arthur’s voice distantly call out his name. But each time Merlin would arrive, Arthur would be long gone.

Eventually Merlin stumbles upon Percy, who is crouched in on himself, like a ball, lying helplessly on the ground.

“Please, please, please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s covering his ears, whispering and sobbing to himself. Merlin approaches him carefully.

“Percy? Percy, it’s me. It’s Merlin.” He gently pulls Percy’s hands off his head, trying to help him to sit up.

“NO!” He screams, flinging himself back.

“Percy, you need to breathe. It’s not real, it’s not real.”

But he doesn’t seem capable of hearing him. So Merlin tries to communicate in a way that the forest can’t interrupt.

Percy, It’s Merlin. Everything is alright. You’re safe, you’re safe. It’s not real. You’ve got to wake up.

His magic felt weak, soft and far away, as if underwater. That’s not good.

“Merlin?”

Yes. It’s me, Percy. Wake up. It’s not real. You just need to breathe.

He watched Percival breathe slowly in and out, then blink, confused.

“Merlin?” He asked again, tears still slipping freely down his face. He launched himself at Merlin, holding him tightly.

“It’s me. It’s me. You’re alright. You’re safe.” Merlin soothed, returning the hug. “You’re safe.”

“Thank you,” Percy whispered, sobbing, “Thank you.”

Merlin forced himself to pull away. He could comfort Percy later. Every second he spends in this hug is another second that Arthur’s heart could stop.

“You need to head back and join up with everyone else. Ignore the screams of the forest. It’s,” Merlin pointed, “That way.”

Percy nodded, giving Merlin another quick hug, and then walking slowly in the direction of the path.

“Arthur?” Merlin called out again, resuming his search.

At long last, he finds his Arthur, sitting on the ground but pushing himself backwards. He’s staring straight forward, eyes fixed on something that doesn’t exist. Merlin rushes toward him, but Arthur is faster.

“NO!” He screamed, rushing to his feet and running forward, away from Merlin.

Merlin raced after him. He could not lose Arthur again.

Arthur is sobbing and shaking and barely breathing by the time Merlin reaches him. He puts his hands gingerly on Arthur’s face. Unlike before, Arthur’s eyes are clenched tight, as if afraid of what he might see should he open them. Understandably so.

It’s not until Merlin puts a hand on Arthur’s chest that he becomes truly desperate. Arthur’s heart is beating too fast. Far, far too fast.

“Darling, please. It’s not real. It’s not real. Come back to me, Arthur.” He begged.

Arthur only shook his head.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it anymore.” He responded. A response! He could finally hear Merlin calling out to him. In relief he puts his lips to Arthur’s sweaty forehead.

“Please, darling. It’s not real.” He whispered.

“Just tell me how to find you.” Arthur whispered back..

“I’m here, my love. I’m here.” Merlin replied, so ghostly quiet that for a moment he wasn't sure Arthur had heard him. But Arthur, at long last, slowly began to open his eyes. They landed on Merlin. Unlike before, they did not stray. He could see Merlin.

“You’re not real.” Arthur says, backing away, looking afraid but refusing to look away from Merlin. “You’re not, you’re not real.”

“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” Merlin takes a step forward, unwilling to let him go for even a moment, and pulls Arthur into his arms. “I’m real, I’m real.”

Arthur starts sobbing into his chest, and Merlin can only hold him. Arthur is shaking uncontrollably, but Merlin does not let go. He hugs him tightly, petting his hair and lightly kissing the top of his head. Arthur grips firmly onto the front of Merlin’s tunic, just below his neckerchief.

“It’s alright, love, I’m here. I’m here and you’re safe. You’re safe with me, darling.” Merlin whispers different versions of these consolations over and over again, refusing to part with Arthur for even a moment.

Eventually Arthur quiets, and his breathing slowly becomes steady.

He looks around the forest for the first time.

“Is it…is it over?” Arthur whispered, his voice clearly hoarse from all the screaming.

“I think so.” Merlin said. Arthur did not let go of his tunic, but Merlin didn’t mind. “We’ve found a few of the others but…well, you better come see.” Merlin answered him gingerly, if not carefully. Arthur nods, and switches his grip from Merlin’s tunic to his wrist. He holds tightly, as if Merlin might slip between his fingers.

Merlin guides him back toward the road. There are far more people than when he’d first returned. Gwaine has returned, and Leon holds the sobbing man in a tight hug. Meanwhile, Percy, who has barely calmed since Merlin had last seen him, rushes toward Arthur.

Arthur flinches.

But when he registers that Percy only means to hug him, he calms down, hugging him back with one arm. The other still grasps tightly to Merlin.

“What happened?” Arthur asked, after Percival pulled away. Percival just looks down at the ground, so Merlin takes it upon himself to explain.

“Dead Man’s Fields.” Merlin responded quietly. “It…got into our heads, it seems. I was the first to get out of it, and Leon. We started chasing down the others, trying to wake them. But every time I got close to you you’d start running again.”

“I wasn’t asleep?” Arthur questioned. Merlin shook his head.

“I think we were all having hallucinations. You had your eyes open. Everyone did.” Merlin said, and Arthur nodded.

Arthur still doesn’t let go of Merlin’s hand. Merlin makes no move to pull away.

“But we’re through it now?” Arthur asked.

“I remembered it, in the waking sleep. The warning of Serpent's Pass. How to navigate out of it. I got…almost everyone out.” Merlin’s voice was nearly a whisper, as he glanced over to where he’d laid down Jamie. Beside him lay three more bodies.

“Almost?” Arthur asked gingerly. In response, Merlin points.

Arthur follows his gaze, walking toward them to get a better look. His hand is still wrapped around Merlin’s wrist, so Merlin walks alongside him.

There are two more dead knights beside Jamie. And one, poor, mad woman.

Aviana.

Chapter Text

The day seems never-ending, after that.

Merlin has been cracked for a very long time, but today…Something inside him has finally broken. He spent last night by Arthur’s side, pretending that he was a better man. But today, in the forest, only served to prove what he was, what he would become: a monster.

More than anything else, Merlin cannot forget the smile of his reflection. It looked so much like Merlin, such a familiar face, and that alone was enough to haunt him forever. But the long, slim, snake-like smile was by far the worst part. That is the smile of someone who has no sense of happiness. Someone who has forgotten how to smile at all. Is this who he is destined to become?

Everyone else saw memories, from what Merlin can gather. Echoes of fear. But Merlin had seen the future. Perhaps the forest worked differently for people with magic.

Perhaps that is what killed Aviana.

“How did they die?” Arthur asked, crouched over one of the fallen knights. Merlin hates himself because he cannot recall his name.

“It looked like a heart attack. They just…wouldn’t wake up.” Merlin’s words stumbled past his lips, surprising himself that he has the energy to string even a sentence together. Apparently he had been running on adrenaline in the forest; a need to find Arthur. But now Arthur is safe, and Merlin wants to collapse onto the ground alongside the dead. “You were the last to wake up, and for a moment I thought…” He shuddered, unable to form the sentence. Merlin is sure that Arthur had had minutes left, seconds. “Anyway, we all saw our worst fears. That was what got us.”

Except me, Merlin admitted to himself. I saw something far worse. I saw myself.

Faintly, Merlin recognized that Arthur had reached to hold his hand. Merlin wanted to yank it away, scared that the fire from the forest had followed him here—scared that he would burn the person he cared the most about. Then again, his magic still felt muffled. Like it lied underneath his feet, rather than within him. So perhaps Arthur would be somewhat safe around Merlin, just this once.

The mood had been morose as Merlin helped station the bodies of the dead atop horses so that they would not fall. Jamie’s dead eyes stared into him as he picked him up from the ground. Merlin closed his eyes gently, but the feeling of Jamie’s eyelids against his fingers was etched forever into his hand.

The only thing keeping Merlin from doubling over and throwing up into the bushes is Arthur’s constant hold on him. He would not leave Merlin’s side. It took him ages to let go of Merlin’s hand, but after that he took hold of his tunic or satchel. Merlin swallowed the sick coming up his throat, packing his bag and readying his horse, Arthur beside him the entire time.

A strangled cry from Arthur snaps Merlin out of his daze so quickly that for a moment Merlin cannot process anything but Is Arthur safe?

He was. But he’d dropped his sleeping tonic, which had broken upon impact. Arthur looked down at the shattered bottle blankly. Merlin helped him clear the glass from the path, lest the horses step on it.

Merlin wonders how Arthur will sleep tonight. Surely his nightmares will haunt him worse than ever before. Right after he’d finally had some sense of closure! On top of every other amplified emotion, Merlin feels an overwhelming sense of disappointment on Arthur’s behalf—he, if no-one else, deserves to sleep well.

At some point they’d finished clearing the glass, and Arthur reached for Merlin’s satchel once again. It was the only time in his life he’d ever wanted to pull away. But he didn’t, because Arthur needed him, and Arthur needed him to be alright, so Merlin would just have to pretend that he was.

They mounted their horses, and Arthur grabbed one of the reins that was attached to the back of Merlin’s horse. The action held an odd sort of importance, but they didn’t discuss it. Merlin felt altogether too exhausted to ask.

The ride seemed quiet.

Perhaps people were talking.

Merlin couldn’t tell.

You can’t escape it, Merlin. You can’t escape me. This is who you are.

Was it his future? Or was it only his fear?

What does it say about Merlin, that his worst fear is himself?

What does it say about Merlin, that he does not warn Arthur of the danger he is in? Of the danger that rides beside him, looking calm, pretending as if nothing is wrong. Merlin wished he’d become a good enough liar—and he really is a very good one—that he would be able to fool even himself. Unfortunately, on this awful journey, he is unable to silence his thoughts. Unable to lie to himself. Unlike Arthur, he is not a good man.

He is barely a man.

He is, or will be, a monster.

The one good thing about Merlin’s busy thoughts is that they seem to arrive at their destination in no time at all. The forest must have been a shortcut of some magical sort, because they were not supposed to arrive until tomorrow. And yet here they are, passing through the gates, being greeted by King Stephan, explaining the body of his dead wife…

Merlin, while barely able to register anything at all, kept his eyes on Stephan as Arthur told him of Aviana’s death. And so he saw, as if in slow motion, the resounding pain that crossed Stephan’s face. He schooled it into a blank expression almost immediately, but this did not fool Merlin. He knows what it looks like to hide emotions.

“It seems we passed through unmarked cursed ground. She had a heart attack. Our physician concluded she did not have the mind capacity left to survive the…hallucinations.” Arthur was speaking, but Merlin could barely register it.

“I see. Alright. Well, we were meant to give her a trial and put her to death here, so I suppose she only really missed the pyre.” King Stephan became more and more strained as he spoke. His face remained blank, but his glance downward betrayed him. His following words, Merlin could tell, were too excited. Too high pitched. It was as forced as Merlin’s smile. “No harm done. Come inside! Let us celebrate your arrival!”

He beckoned the group forward, but Merlin’s eyes stayed on him. As soon as Stephan faced away from Arthur, his face crumpled. He spoke in a broken whisper to the servant beside him, who gave a nod and went to the horse that held Aviana’s body. Merlin wondered for a moment why he would hide such grief. It occurred to him, albeit slowly, that it probably had something to do with the fact that she had tried to kill Arthur.

As they walk into the castle, led by Stephan, Merlin turns his attention back to Arthur. He walks beside Stephan, head held high. But Merlin caught the way his thumb twisted his ring around his finger, hand shaking slightly at his side.

Merlin takes a deep breath, trying to focus. His mind feels as though it is floating away, as if it has separated from his body, as if he had left it behind in that forest.

“This is our grand dining hall! But I’m sure your men hope to rest before the feast is served?”

“Yes, I think that would be best.” Arthur agreed. Distantly, Merlin registered Arthur’s knights departing to their respective rooms at Arthur’s dismissal. “However, if you aren’t in need of rest, I hope to look over the treaty of our alliance?”

“If you’d like?” King Stephan answered. “Although I feel I must remind you that even though the treaty was signed by your father, noncompliance by your hand could result in something unnecessary, I’m sure.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Arthur laughed. It is not his usual laugh, not the kind Merlin has grown used to. But it heals a tiny part of Merlin nonetheless. He tries to bathe himself in the sound. He wishes he could drown in it. “It is not my hope to break the treaty, only to look over it myself with a man I greatly respect.”

“Alright, then let us see to it!” Stephan’s smile seemed genuine.

Both men sit down at a long table, a squire—for rewrites—alongside both of them.

Merlin stood against the wall. He wants so desperately to collapse on the floor.

He doesn’t.

Arthur is explaining the real reason for his arrival; his desire to repeal the ban on magic. Stephan does not reply immediately, and instead the Kings read, line by line, the treaty that Uther had once signed with Stephan.

King Stephan is, for a lack of a better word, handsome. Not in the boyish, beautiful, lively way that Arthur is. Not in the way that it matters. But Merlin can see the appeal, that classically handsome look. He has dark hair and matching dark eyes, hollow cheeks, a strong jawline. There is something about him that there had not been in Aviana’s pretend recreation. Something wise and kind. Merlin can sense the honesty radiating off of him. He must be at most ten years Arthur’s senior, but the way he holds himself seems to age him significantly, as if he’d been ruling a very long time.

Observing King Stephan warily had been a good way to pass time, but eventually Merlin’s thoughts return to the morning, and the horrors it had brought.

Every once in a while, when Arthur seems stuck on a decision, or is trying to create a formal disagreement, Merlin speaks to him in his mind. His magic still feels stifled—Merlin thinks it is perhaps due to the fact that his mind continues to creep back to the forest. Arthur can never respond, but usually repeats what Merlin had said. It reminds Merlin of the nights they’d spent in candlelight, when he had looked over his plans and speeches and new laws. Those moments feel so far away now. It feels to Merlin that there is only Before The Forest, and After.

It’s exhausting, grueling work. Arthur’s shoulders are hunched in concentration, a thin line on his lips. His furrowed brows never smooth out. Merlin is tired, simply from watching. He cannot imagine keeping such a conversation going for as many hours as Arthur had.

At last it is time for dinner, a feast, and Arthur’s knights return to the dining hall. Gwaine flashes him a small smile. He’d meant to speak to his friend, perhaps to console him on the horrors he must have seen, but Merlin felt so absent in his own mind that he really can only focus on one thing at a time. And his first and foremost focus will always be Arthur.

Merlin stands against the wall, missing Gwen. She would wrap an arm around him, and give him praise that he does not deserve. She would remind him that everything is alright, even though it is resoundingly not.

Merlin absentmindedly watches Arthur massage the side of his head. He is slumped over a bit, from what Merlin can tell. It must be saying something that Merlin can so easily read him, despite only being able to look at the back of Arthur.

About halfway through dinner, Arthur straightens in his chair, so quickly that for a moment Merlin is worried that he is about to leave the table. Instead, Arthur seems to be looking around the room, suddenly unable to sit still.

Before Merlin has even realized what he is doing, he is taking a few steps forward, and his hand lands on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur relaxes immediately, and sighs as if he’d been holding his breath.

“You okay?” Merlin faintly whispers. Arthur gives a subtle nod.

Merlin pulls his hand back as though something had bitten him.

How can Merlin be so afraid of himself, and yet continue putting Arthur in danger by being near him?

If he truly loved Arthur, he would leave now. Never return to Camelot. But Merlin is selfish—Arthur has always been the braver of the two—and he cannot leave him. He cannot leave his side, because he is too weak and too selfish to truly keep Arthur safe.

And of course his natural state is reaching for Arthur, always. It’s a miracle he is not attempting to hold him at all times, really. But now Merlin must wonder to himself, how could he ever forgive himself if one day he reached to touch Arthur, and Arthur pulled away, burned?

When dinner ends, a servant shows Arthur up to his quarters.

As a servant, Merlin had been shown to a separate chamber. It was shared with a few other servants, but there was plenty of room for him. He’d left almost immediately, though. He meant to find Arthur, but found himself walking in no particular direction. This was the first time he’d had a chance to be alone since Serpent’s Pass.

He wouldn’t let himself walk upstairs. He was worried he might want to throw himself off.

“Oh, are you lost?” A handmaid stopped him in his wandering. He felt himself nodding.

“I am King Arthur’s personal servant. I am looking for his quarters?”

She led him up the stairs quietly. Merlin refused to look out the window. She slows and Merlin senses they are nearing Arthur’s room. He forces himself to take a deep, shaky breath. Arthur needs him right now. He cannot fall apart. It can wait until Arthur is safe and calm in bed. Then Merlin can go walking again, perhaps find a quiet corner to break down in.

“Thank you!” He exclaimed to the handmaiden as he opened Arthur’s door. She seems surprised, perhaps because the lively persona he displayed now was so significantly different from the quietness of him just a few moments prior.

“I miss our castle, this one is built all wrong. Had to ask for help just to find your room.” Merlin begins as soon as the door is closed behind him, forcing himself to sound light and airy. “C’mon, let’s get you ready for bed.” He pulls Arthur up from the chair he is sprawled in. Arthur seems ready to collapse on his feet, however, and Merlin instinctively reaches a hand around his waist to steady him. It only takes a glance at Arthur’s face to see how distraught he is.

“Is there anything I can do?” Merlin asked softly, putting a hand up to his cheek.

“I’m fine. Nevermind.” Arthur answered, looking down, away from Merlin’s eyes.

“But you do mind.” Merlin argued.

“No, I don’t, Merlin.” He sighed.

Merlin began helping him out of his armor, trying to cheer Arthur up. Arthur gave a tiny smile when Merlin used his magic to fill the bathtub with water and heat properly.

He doesn't know to be afraid, Merlin thinks. Can he not feel it?

“You do.” He said quietly, eventually.

“I do.” Arthur admitted with a sigh, stepping into the bath. “But it all…aches too much. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Alright.” Merlin relents, understanding the want, the desperation, to push away everything that had occurred today.

Arthur seems to nearly fold over himself in the bath. But Merlin cannot allow it, not even for a second. So he kneels behind Arthur, washing his hair as gently as he can. He hums, remembering how it calmed Arthur when he had nightmares.

“Lean back, darling.” Merlin said softly. Arthur obliged. And when he finished that, he spoke again, in that same soft voice. “All right, back up now, dollophead.” He continued. Merlin is surprised to find that combing through Arthur’s hair was calming himself, too. He found himself more settled than he’d felt all day. As if his darkness was being washed away in the water. But eventually he had to pull away, finished with Arthur’s cleaning. As soon as he did, however, he felt his magic return to him. It had felt subdued since the forest, but it seemed restored now. Merlin hated it. He wished he could peel his skin off so that the magic would drain away. Abruptly, Merlin remembered the itching he’d felt in the forest. He clamped his arms to his side, even though he longed to scratch at himself.

“Up then, clotpole. Let’s get you dressed for bed.” Merlin said finally. Arthur followed the direction, but he still hadn’t responded to anything Merlin had said. Which is fine with him, really. It’s easier to fake a lively conversation when it’s one-sided. He dresses Arthur into his undergarments, and gently leads him to his bed. Surprisingly, it’s a bit smaller than the one in Camelot, but the blankets seem softer. Merlin tucks Arthur in quietly, unable to come up with another thing to say. His tiredness washed over him like a wave. Perhaps he would skip that walk after all. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and curl up into a ball.

When he goes to pull away from Arthur, however, Arthur’s hand catches his wrist.

“Would you…would you stay? I…I sleep better when you’re around.” Arthur whispers, barely audible.

Merlin wants to say yes so badly that it hurts him. How lovely would it be to have another night like last night? But how can he ask such a thing, after seeing that prophecy in the forest?

It’s only when Arthur’s hand slips from his wrist that Merlin realizes he has been silent far too long. It’s the embarrassed, pained look on Arthur’s face that convinces Merlin. Because really, how could he ever say no?

“Or, I mean, you don’t have to—” Arthur began.

“No, no, of course I would. Of course I’ll stay, darling.” Merlin rushed, trying to cover for his hesitation. “I was just thinking of the chores I have to do first. Let me just tend to the fire, and change into my underclothes, and I’ll come to bed. Alright?” Arthur nodded, and seemed to relax into his pillows.

Merlin made himself work slowly, hoping to calm his very loud heartbeat, even though he really really just wanted to rush to Arthur’s side.

Eventually he does crawl into bed, facing Arthur. Arthur turns on his side, staring right back into Merlin. The firelight dances across Arthur’s face, and for the first time all day, Merlin feels fully present and alive. He feels the crushing weight lift from his chest, even if it’s only a little. They look at each other for a very long time, and at long last Merlin is able to catch his breath, able to feel a sense of contentment. And then, after a very long while, Arthur is the one to break it.

Merlin wishes immediately he hadn’t.

“What did you see?” Arthur whispered to him.

What can he say? How could he possibly explain? He tries to buy himself time to think.

“In the forest?” Merlin asked. Arthur nodded.

He feels tears welling up in his eyes—the first all day—but he pushes them down. He can’t worry Arthur, not now, when he is so fragile. But how could he ever live with himself if he lied, when Arthur had asked him so earnestly?

“Someone I hate.” He admitted in a harsh whisper, the venom of the truth making his mouth curl in disgust. He waited for Arthur to ask him more, promising himself that he would answer with full honesty, but the time never came. Arthur did not push the question.

A part of Merlin wished he had, so that he could explain this unbearable fear and guilt that had become renewed on his shoulders. But a much bigger part of Merlin was relieved.

“What did you see?” He asked, when the moment seemed to have passed. Arthur’s answer was immediate.

“Not you,” He said simply, “I couldn’t find you.”

And Merlin suddenly wanted to cry all over again.

“Well, don’t worry. I’m here, I promise.” He said, swallowing the sob in his throat. What has he done? He cannot keep Arthur safe by his side, and yet if he leaves it, Arthur would break.

And now he’d promised to stay.

Not that he had a choice, he thought faintly, when Arthur had reached a hand up to comb through his hair. Merlin had never felt Arthur’s hands in his hair before, and he realizes that there is not a world in which he would not be wishing for this, forever. There is not a world where Merlin leaves Arthur’s side willingly.

“I…” Arthur seemed to trail off for a moment, then, “I need you by my side, I think.” Merlin could do nothing but nod for a moment, all consumed by Arthur’s words, and his eyes, and his hands in Merlin’s hair.

“Well, good, because you’re stuck with me.” Merlin’s nose crinkled with a small smile, and he registered that this is the first real smile he’d had all day.

Eventually Arthur’s hand leaves his hair, and Merlin has to choke back the sudden need to beg for him to continue. But Arthur’s arm comes down between them, so close that Merlin could kiss his knuckles without having to move his neck, and it calms Merlin once again.

He can sense Arthur thinking, so Merlin quietly waits, taking in Arthur’s perfect features, lit up by the firelight. He feels dizzy from the sight.

“I’m nervous about the negotiations. I’ve never done them before. I’m worried Stephan is trying to trick me into a worse treaty than before.” Arthur whispered, after a while.

“You’re a great King, Arthur. You’ve been a leader long before that. I don’t think you’ll mess it up.” Merlin said earnestly. Then, always trying to cheer Arthur up, he teased, “But if you do, I’ll be there to tell you!”

“Hey!” Arthur exclaimed, making Merlin smile.

“What? You may be some great leader, but you’re still a prat.” He said, making Arthur chuckle.

“Am not!”

“You are. And a royal one.”

Arthur laughed, and for a moment Merlin felt young again. Arthur’s eyes are still so young, even after all this time. Even after everything he’s seen. So bright and blue and forever. Their first meeting flashed through Merlin’s mind like it was a vision in front of him, and he missed so much the silly prats they used to be.

It was a time before Merlin knew to hate his magic. Before he had realized how much he needed to control it, chain it, hide it. It used to have free reign…the thought made his skin crawl.

“Do you think you’ll sleep at all tonight?” Merlin asked, trying to remember and forget all at once. Merlin watched a small smile appear on Arthur’s lips.

“Yes. Yes, I think so.” He said softly. He looked into Merlin’s eyes so deeply then, that Merlin could barely think. Yes? Because of him? It certainly seemed like that was Arthur’s intention in his conclusion. Merlin wanted to tell him, right then, that he loved him.

But Merlin is evil, and Arthur looked tired. And so he figured it could wait.

Maybe he’d be waiting forever.

But waiting for Arthur? That’s not so bad. Not at all.

Chapter Text

Merlin cannot help but laugh, quietly to himself, when he awakes the following morning. How could he have ever thought, for even a moment, that he was not in love? It’s seems so silly now, as he lies entangled with Arthur. They’d fallen asleep so quickly, and to Merlin’s knowledge, they’d both slept through the whole night. And here Arthur is, still wrapped in Merlin’s arms, and for this moment Merlin forgets how to do anything but look. The sun has not yet risen, and the fire is only embers now, but even in the lightened dark Merlin can make out Arthur’s features. He really is so beautiful. Merlin wants so badly to trace his fingers across Arthur’s jaw and cheekbone, across the bridge of his nose, and over his light eyebrows.

And then, as if being snapped back into reality, Arthur begins to stir. Merlin means to get out of bed, but as Arthur wakes he seems to hold Merlin’s far side with the arm still wrapped around his waist, pulling him back down beside Arthur. He gives himself a few moments, and then forces himself slowly out of the bed, getting dressed in yesterday’s clothes and beginning to start on his chores.

Usually, Merlin would fetch Arthur a tray for breakfast, but he’s been invited to dine with King Stephan, and so after dressing Arthur, it’s down to the dining hall that they go.

Evil, evil, evil.

Despite the resonating thoughts in the back of his mind, seemingly playing on repeat, it is much easier for Merlin to focus today. He can understand more than one sentence at a time, can focus on more than just Arthur.

So he does. And for the first time since their arrival, he can truly appreciate the beauty of the room in which he is standing.

It is much more bright than the Camelot’s dining hall, probably because it has far more windows. Uther never cared much for light, being a crazy old bat, and so their dining hall seems quite dim in comparison.

There are many servants in the room. Some bustle about, some stand against the wall, waiting to be called on. All of them, however, look pleased to be there. Since Arthur began his reign, the servants in Camelot had begun to wear similar expressions. While Uther was King, however, all servants looked downward in his presence. Merlin decides in finality that he agrees with the conclusion he’d come to yesterday; Stephan seems to be a good man, and perhaps, a good King.

Arthur seems to come to the same verdict. In a moment of Stephan’s laughter—in which he has a habit of throwing his head back—Arthur turns around to look at Merlin, raising an eyebrow. Merlin understands the silent question.

He’s not so bad, is he?

Arthur gives a slight nod to agree with Merlin’s answer, and Merlin catches the small, relieved smile on his face. Then he turns his attention back to a still laughing Stephan.

“So, are you enjoying your rule so far?” Stephan said, after he’d calmed down.

“I suppose so. It’s come very natural to me, I think.” Arthur spoke earnestly.

“We all always thought you’d be better than Uther. Not to speak ill of your father, of course.”

This is no surprise to Merlin. Anyone who’d met Uther and Arthur could easily choose the better of the two.

“We?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, the Kings of Albion. Your father was…” Stephan trailed off for a moment, and Merlin watched as he seemed to come to a conclusion of his own about Arthur. “Very set in his ideas. But you always seemed very level-headed, even as a youth.”

“The late King Uther certainly was not one to change his mind, once it had been set.” Arthur responded. Merlin wanted to scoff at his formality. Obviously Arthur couldn’t outwardly agree that Uther was a blubbering idiot with a pumpkin for a brain, but his tip-toeing around the truth was all too hilarious to Merlin. In fact, had Stephan known to drop the polite tone about the late King, Arthur would surely have been relieved. Instead of acknowledging this, however, Arthur changed the subject. “When do you expect to continue our work on the treaty?”

“After the midday meal, if that is alright with you? You’re welcome to explore the grounds. We have a beautiful garden here. I have a few meetings with my townspeople this morning…” Stephan seemed to cut himself off. “Not that they are of higher importance! It’s just that—”

Arthur raised a hand to stop him. Merlin felt his face lift in surprise. That’s certainly new. He catches Arthur turn his head slightly, as if surprised by his own hand as well. Either way, the movement stops Stephan’s apology.

“Please, no need to explain. There is no one more important to me than my people. I understand.” Stephan’s hunched shoulders visibly relax, and that charming smile crosses his face once again. “I also can’t help but notice the kindness with which you treat your subjects. They all seem comfortable around you.” Arthur continued. Merlin was embarrassed to admit that he was caught off guard by Arthur’s awareness. Merlin had noticed because he was a servant himself, and knew better than anyone what to look for. Plus, Arthur had never really seen Merlin unhappy at his side, because Merlin was too busy being in love with him to really do any meaningful wallowing.

But Arthur had noticed how the servants here were treated, how they reacted to their King. It made Merlin feel very fond of him. Not that he wasn’t always.

“I try to show my servants and subjects respect. I do not believe a man can ever truly rule with fear.” Stephan answered slowly.

“I agree!” Arthur exclaimed. Merlin could hear his smile.

“I have to say, I was more than a little surprised to hear about your plan to repeal the ban on magic.” Stephan admitted. Merlin saw that same sadness—the look that had glimpsed his face at the sight of Aviana—strike again, although he hid it almost immediately. “I’m not against the plan, of course. But your father was so adamant.” Merlin could see Stephan was waiting for something, looking for something in Arthur. Waiting to see how different he really was from his father—how good his intentions are. Merlin wanted to laugh and explain to him, Arthur is as good as they come.

“What are your opinions on magic-users, my friend?” Merlin wondered why Arthur was dodging the question Stephan was so clearly asking. Especially so because Stephan was clearly quietly grieving the loss of his wife, who he had known to be magical. In his letter to Camelot, he’d claimed he had banished Aviana. Merlin wondered if that is what really happened. Or, even worse, if he had done it to avoid war with Camelot. The thought digs a whole through his chest. It would be the most tragic of stories, for a King to banish a wife he still loves, knowing that the other option was the pyre, unaware that Camelot had already begun to change to an extremely different set of beliefs. Could they have saved Aviana from her madness, from her fate in the forest, if they had arrived here sooner?

“My father was a lot like yours. He died many years ago, and I began my reign.” Stephan said, answering Arthur’s question carefully. “Uther was friends with my father, both men deep in their beliefs that magic was the root of evil. When I took the crown, Uther implied that to disagree in that aspect was to threaten war with Camelot. So I never tried, too much of a risk.” And there was Merlin’s answer, wasn’t it? If Stephan had kept Aviana, taking care of her in her madness, and the word had reached Camelot…he had chosen the safety of his people over the safety of his love. And now his sacrifice had meant nothing. And, even worse, this must be why Aviana had attacked Camelot. She knew that if she had ruled there, then she would be safe, and could possibly return to Stephan. And, much like her husband, her desperation had come to nothing. “It’s been going on so long, now, it’s hard to think of them as…not the enemy. I don’t even know how we would make reparations with them.” King Stephan said, his voice shaking a bit at the end. Much like with Arthur, Merlin feels the sudden need to give the poor man a hug.

“I plan to appoint a court sorcerer. To help bridge the gap.” Arthur said. He seemed unaffected by Stephan’s confession. Merlin wonders if he’d come to the same conclusion about Stephan. From the calmness in Arthur’s voice, Merlin doubts it. “All I know is, I can’t keep killing people in good conscience. As royalty I’m sure you’ve been attacked as much as I. And sure, many of them are magical. But just as many come by the sword. There is no reason to continue such violence, to have such a blatant disregard for life.”

“I am impressed by you, Arthur Pendragon.” Stephan said, then sighed. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. As your ally to the North, I too will repeal the ban on magic. Maybe even elect a court sorcerer, if someone would take the duty.”

“Really?” Arthur asked. Merlin could hear the surprise in his voice.

“May I speak plainly, my friend?” Stephan questioned. Arthur nodded. “You’re persuasive, but it’s your intellect and genuinity I trust. Just as you noticed with me, your subjects trust you completely. That’s the sort of man I look to, the sort of King I follow.” Merlin hid his smile. The compliment is not one Arthur would take lightly. It is one thing for Merlin or one of his knights to remind Arthur what a great King he was. It is entirely another for a foreign King to reach the same conclusions after just a few meetings.

“You are a King yourself. You haven’t any need to follow me?” Arthur asked, sounding unsure.

“That’s true, I suppose. I suppose I just…I prefer to actually trust my allies. Rather than be sworn solely by treaties.”

“The same way we prefer to lead with kindness and respect, rather than have our subjects solely swear their loyalty.” Arthur responded easily.

“Exactly!” Stephan agreed excitedly. “And you…you are a good man.”

“The same to you, my friend.”

After breakfast, Stephan dismissed himself to see to his people.

Arthur had waited until he had left the room to return to Merlin’s side. As soon as he reached it, however, his Kingly facade dropped. His boyish smile took over as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“That went so well!” Arthur whisper-exclaimed. Merlin bit back a chuckle, not wanting Arthur to think he was teasing him. In truth, Merlin was nothing short of proud.

“It did. It really did. I told you, great leader and all that.” Merlin responded.

“Yes, yes, greatest leader, once and future King, your only real purpose in life…” Arthur teased, looking to Merlin with a glint in his eye. Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“Hm, I don’t remember saying that last bit.” Merlin teased back, making Arthur laugh.

“Since we have time to ourselves, I really want to find our friends. They’ve looked awfully distraught since Serpent's Pass.” Arthur said, looking around as if they’d appear. Merlin was caught up for a moment on the fact that Arthur had just referred to them as friends so easily. Was it really only a few months ago that he was still referring to them formally?

“You certainly look better.” Merlin commented. It was true. The bags underneath Arthur’s eyes that Merlin had gotten so used to had begun to disappear, and his face was much less pale. Even his eyes seemed less dim. Like he’d come alive once again for the first time in too long.

“I feel better. Nightmares are just nightmares.” Arthur answered with a shrug. Merlin nearly tripped over himself as they walked, distracted in his relief. After all this time, Arthur had finally found closure. He had found a way to forgive himself. Merlin whispered a silent thank-you to the druid camp for whatever they had shown Arthur two nights ago. “How about you? Alright?”

“Not so bad.” Merlin lied. It didn’t sound real, so he quickly added, “I don’t think mine were as bad as anyone else’s.” This rang true to him. Everyone else, with the exception of Leon, had seemed unable to contain the tragedy from their faces. “C’mon, let’s go find the knights, then.”

They find Percival first, because his room is the closest. He answers his door with puffy eyes. Arthur hugs him in an instant and it warms Merlin’s heart. Once again Merlin recalled a time, not so long ago, when Arthur had been afraid to hug, or perhaps unable to know how.

Percy hugged him back, sniffling into his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Arthur asked when they pulled apart. “If not, we can just go on a walk through the gardens, if you’d like.”

Percival sat down on the edge of his bed, digging his palms into his eyes for a moment. When he pulled his hands away, he did not look up.

“I had a little sister. I don’t…talk about her a lot.” Percy said eventually, still looking at the ground. Merlin’s heart plummeted for him. “We lost her to disease. She was so little,” Percy sighed, “There was nothing we could do. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save her. And she was a ghost, and she kept blaming me, and she was so disappointed, and she…” He has to stop talking when he starts choking on his words. “She deserved so much better.” He whispered.

“Oh, Percy.” Arthur said, wrapping arm around Percival’s shoulders, holding him as he cried. It struck Merlin as odd that Percy did not make any sound when he cried. Tears were sliding down his cheeks but he did not sob. Even his unsteady, shaky breaths were hard to make out. Merlin wondered if there was more to the story—no one learns to cry quietly on their own. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” Arthur kept whispering.

Eventually Percy sits up and wipes his tears.

“I still see her all the time. At the druid camp, or when I see children dancing in the market…I just haven’t had to confront it in such a long time.”

“I’m so sorry, Percy.” Merlin said, realizing as he said it how hollow the words were, how insignificant they must seem to Percy’s grief.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.” Arthur said, “But we are here for you, whatever you need.”

Percival wept quietly a little more, but eventually calmed down once again.

“Our castle is certainly much bigger than this. Although it does make me wonder if Uther was scared of light.” Percy said. His voice was more hoarse than normal, but Merlin recognized him trying to switch to a new subject.

“I was just thinking earlier that he might have been a bat.” Merlin commented lightly. Percy chuckled. “Don’t laugh! I mean it! Did you ever see Uther and a bat in the same room together?” Percy began to laugh a little more, and Merlin took this to mean he should continue. “Exactly! You haven’t. Because he was a bat. I bet he hung upside down from the ceiling when he went to sleep.” Percy gave a full laugh now, and though it was not as hearty as his usual ones, it felt genuine. Merlin counted this as a win.

“I’ve heard the gardens here are lovely,” Arthur said with a small smile, “Up for a walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Surely you two will have more fun without me.” Percy responded, quieter now.

“Nonsense!” Arthur exclaimed, “You don’t need to come out if you don’t feel ready. But we would love to have you there.”

Percy seemed to think on this for a moment, then nodded his head. When he stood up, he looked much more put together.

The walk to the gardens was slow, mostly because no-one in the trio knew how to actually find the gardens. Eventually they stumbled upon it, though, immediately happening upon Gwaine and Leon.

“Look who’s late for training, as always!” Gwaine called out to Arthur. “Princess has been skipping!” Gwaine’s nickname for Arthur has taken on a new comedic effect, now that Arthur is no longer a prince. Everyone laughs loudly, and the air feels clear and safe. As if they’d just entered a bubble, far from the horrors of Serpent’s Pass. Arthur sticks his tongue out at Merlin as he laughs. Merlin feels his heart stop.

“Oh, please,” Arthur cooed sarcastically, “If I wanted to best you in combat, you’d already be on the ground!”

“Oh? You think you’re ready to take on the famed Gwaine?” Gwaine teased.

“Don’t worry, Sire, I will protect you!” Leon jumped in front of Arthur dramatically, which made everyone laugh.

“What? That’s no fair!” Gwaine whined.

“It’s alright mate,” Percival joined in at last, with a small smile creeping onto his face, “I’ll help you out.”

“Yes,” Arthur teased, “You clearly need the help.”

Merlin took a seat on the bench, watching them laugh as their swords clashed against each other. For a moment they all looked younger; children playing outside together with sticks, playing pretend. Brothers.

“Take that!”

“Ha! You call that an attack?”

Merlin didn’t mind sitting out, cheering for whoever was winning, booing at random. They had started out in teams, but soon they were all against one another. Their movements were slower and less forceful than at a regular training, not really wanting to harm one another.

“Watch this!” Arthur said to Merlin, winking. Merlin rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Oh, look, a damsel behind you! You should look at her!”

“Shut up, Gwaine.”

Merlin watches Arthur more carefully the longer the match goes on. Neither spoke about it, but his running in the forest had been more than he’d done in months. And now this was by far his longest sword fight.

Eventually, to Merlin’s relief, Arthur sits down. Merlin pretends to boo him, keeping his eyes on the others who are still play-fighting. But when Arthur is at last beside him, Merlin reaches for his stomach.

Ath-nuadhachadh.

Merlin means for his voice to be quiet, but Arthur must have heard because he turns to him.

“Feel alright, darling?” Merlin asked, feeling brave enough to look into his blue blue eyes.

“Much better, thank you.” Arthur answered softly. Merlin felt his cheeks heat up when Arthur’s gaze did not leave him for several extra moments. When he did finally look back toward their friends, Merlin was surprised to feel Arthur leaning into him, his head lying on his shoulder.

It’s the loveliest of moments, seconds, days. Merlin feels, albeit temporarily, every moment of fear and hesitation drain out of him. It seeps into the flowers beds, and Merlin relaxes into Arthur.

The men settle down eventually. They continue to wander through the garden, laughing and teasing each other.

“Yes, because I obviously won!” Gwaine was saying. Merlin had missed the beginning of the conversation, because Arthur’s hand had softly grazed his own, and Merlin had to focus all of his energy into not grabbing Arthur’s hand.

“You’re an idiot.” Percy chastised lovingly. Arthur stops to admire some flowers, and Merlin finds himself beside Leon, a little ways ahead of the group.

“How are you doing?” Merlin asked softly when Leon looked to the ground. Leon nodded.

“I really am fine. Everyone else’s dreams seemed much more awful than mine.” Leon answered with a slight frown.

“I saw that you were the first to wake. Before me, even.”

“Well, I knew right away that what I was seeing wasn’t real.”

“Why?” Merlin asked. Leon didn’t answer for a moment, and Merlin worried he had overstepped.

“I saw a line of dead bodies. You and Arthur, Gwaine and Percy, my mother and father. The young knights I have begun training and caring for.” Leon answered slowly. “I knew that it couldn’t be real. Because I would sooner throw myself on a dagger than be the last one standing.”

Merlin couldn’t help but glance at his friend. Leon only continued looking forward. Merlin didn’t know what to say, but eventually Leon went on.

“I will always be the first to die. And I do not mind. I could never be happy otherwise. I could not lose one of you and then continue to live.”

“Oh.” Was all Merlin could muster. Then, somewhere between sorrow and teasing, he continued, “I’ll be really angry with you if you die before me. I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you myself.” Leon threw his head back in laughter.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. You know, you’re almost as scary as Morgana.”

Merlin pretended to shiver.

“Low blow, Leon.” He said, and both of them laughed, because besides That One Time when she snapped her father’s neck, Morgana is a complete sweetheart.

Eventually the others catch up to them, and Gwaine throws and arm around his shoulder. Merlin points out the names of different plants, recognizing many from his days hunting herbs in the forest for Gaius. This garden is far more advanced than the Camelot’s grounds, and Merlin feels a little jealous.

He playfully flicks Arthur’s side.

“Why don’t we grow more plants like this in Camelot?” He asked.

“Well, my father hated beautiful things.” Arthur said simply. Everyone chuckled. “Would you like more flowers on the grounds, darling?” He said quietly, his tone more serious. It didn’t sound like he was just asking for Merlin’s opinion. It was almost like he wanted to fill a request—to make Merlin, specifically, happy. Merlin could only nod, because his voice had suddenly failed him.

“Oh, I like this one!” Percival called out, helping Merlin to catch his breath. He turned to see Percy staring at a Himalayan poppy.

“It’s a beautiful and very rare flower. Just like you, Percy.” Merlin said with a smile. Percy gave a little bow.

“Which am I? Which am I?” Gwaine asked. Merlin looked around, then pointed decidedly to a pinkish lotus flower peaking out of the pond. The group gave a collective ‘oooo.’

Merlin chose an array of colorful tulips for Leon on their way out of the gardens, which Leon disputes immediately.

“I’m clearly a rose!” He demanded.

“And I thought Arthur was the princess!” Gwaine teased as Leon huffed.

Merlin’s chest feels oddly light after the lovely morning they’ve had. Lunch is significantly more jovial than their previous meals together in King Stephan’s castle, and it’s clear that Stephan picks up on this immediately. He doesn’t work as hard to laugh or make jokes as he had their first night, and everyone seems far more relaxed.

The rest of the day is much more boring. After lunch, Arthur and Stephan launch right back into their negotiations of the treaty. Merlin had nearly become bored out of his mind when he was dismissed to go and have a lunch of his own. He chose to eat out in the garden and suddenly missed Gwen terribly, because she would have loved this place.

He enjoyed his time in the gardens. He knew he should go back to the dining hall during negotiations, but he also knew that now that Arthur was feeling more confident, he wouldn’t mind. The truth was that when he was that bored his thoughts mounted over him, drowning him in a wave of fear and sorrow. It is much better out here in the sunlight, where his heavy thoughts can be drained out by the trickle of the pond or the light buzz of a bee.

Eventually he does return to the dining hall, though, just before negotiations break for dinner. The table is once again hearty and loud. It’s a lovely night. After dinner, Arthur surprisingly dismisses him for the night.

“I saw how bored you were earlier, darling,” He said quietly, a smile at the corner of his mouth, “You could just skip to your chores, I’m hoping to come to bed soon.”

Merlin nodded, firmly ignoring the fact that he wanted to kiss Arthur on the cheek.

The whole way upstairs, Merlin thought about what Arthur had said. It was odd phrasing, wasn’t it? He could have said, “I’ll go to bed soon”, which would have implied that he would undress and put himself in bed. Or, alternatively, he could have said, “I’ll meet you upstairs soon”, implying that they would once again fall asleep beside each other. But he had chosen something annoyingly andogynous. ‘Come’ meant ‘join’ right? As in he would join Merlin in bed soon, rather than ‘go’ to bed on his own?

Merlin wasn’t sure.

All too soon he reached Arthur’s room.

His hand lay on the handle for several moments before he pulled away. Surely he could find something else to do for a while, and then come back later and run into Arthur then! Then he wouldn’t need to decode Arthur’s thoughts.

And so Merlin walked a little further, to where he knew Gwaine was staying. He hadn’t gotten a chance to speak one on one with him earlier. And despite his humorous and calm composition, Merlin could easily tell his friend was still having a hard time.

He already knew of the hardship Gwaine had experienced growing up. Sometimes, when Gwaine drank one too many at the tavern and Merlin had to take him home, he would recount stories of it. Sometimes, in the daylight, they’d finish the discussion, because as much as Gwaine acted tough, he didn’t seem to mind opening up. At least, to Merlin. But then, they’ve always been fast friends.

He knocked on the door quietly, and Gwaine opened it so fast that it seemed like he’d been expecting him.

“Was wondering when you’d finally stop by to bother me.” He smiled. Merlin gave a soft smile in return. He sat himself comfortably on a chair while Gwaine took the small couch.

“So, how are you, old friend?” Merlin asked, tilting his head slightly.

“How are you? That’s the real question.”

“I’m alright. I got out of it pretty fast.” Merlin half-lied. He was, in fact, not alright. But Gwaine would never believe him if he explained it all. He was as soft-hearted as Gwen or Percy. Always thinking the best of the people he deems as friends.

“You don’t seem alright.” Gwaine raised an eyebrow. Merlin narrowed his eyes.

“You go first. Then I’ll talk.” Merlin negotiated. Gwaine sighed in agreement.

“I didn’t see what you thought I saw, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Gwaine began. “I should’ve seen my dying mother, or the things I had to do to survive back then. I really was just a kid, though. You said it based on our fears—I was never afraid of doing what I had to do. Desperate, angry, starving, sure. But afraid? Never once.”

They let a beat of silence pass between them.

“So, what did you see then?” Merlin asked softly.

“Ya know, I never had much.” Gwaine spoke quietly, dancing around Merlin’s question. “My whole life, I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for a sense of comfort. I barely remember my father, but I remember the feeling I had with him. The feeling of being home. Then he died. And we were penniless. I was so young, but I had to provide. I got us out of the town that had turned its back on us. And we had barely made it one countryside over, finally beginning to settle into a new place, a new home, when my mother died.” Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but Gwaine didn’t stop. “Nothin’ I could’ve done. I know that. I left it all behind after that, though. Couldn’t stand being in the place we’d fought for only for her to die anyway. Grew up on the road, living between inns for a while, and then in between taverns after that. Camelot was the first…you were the first…” Gwaine trailed off.

Merlin waited.

“You were the first sense of home I’d had in years. Camelot welcomed me, at least a little. Not counting that time I got banished.”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of then?” Merlin pushed. Gwaine nodded with a frown.

“I didn’t know it in the forest. What to call it. It was just a feeling, really, or an absence of one. I kept walking into places and feeling nothing at all. Numb and so, so alone. Leon shook me out of it easily, because as soon as he grabbed my shoulders I felt it, came right out of my state. But…As it turns out, that’s my worst fear. Not having a home. After having the safety and comfort of this,” He gestured between himself and Merlin, “I can’t go back to the wandering, to the taverns. I just can’t. The forest knew that before I did.”

Merlin moved from his chair to the couch, wrapping his friend in a big hug. Unlike Percival, Gwaine didn’t cry. But he did feel his tense shoulders relax after a few moments of being held.

“I’m alright, really. Get off me, you pompous asshole.” Gwaine said. Merlin ignored him. He could have sworn he almost heard Gwaine sigh in relief. As much as Gwaine might pretend, Merlin knows sometimes he really just needs a proper hug.

When they finally broke apart, several minutes later, Gwaine’s tough exterior seemed more cracked. Merlin could tell he was no longer putting up a front.

“Your turn.” He said softly.

Merlin looked down at his hands. He wanted to beg Gwaine not to tell Arthur. To promise to keep this secret. But he knew that was unfair, to both Gwaine and Arthur. Gwaine is, first and foremost, a knight of Camelot. And he must protect his King, even if it’s from Merlin. Especially if it’s from Merlin.

“I found a mirror.” Merlin said simply. “I just saw myself.”

He looked up to Gwaine to see him raising an eyebrow.

“No you didn’t. What was it actually?”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw a mirror, fine. I know better than anyone how much you…” Gwaine trailed off for a moment. “But I’m willing to bet my hard earned coins that you didn’t actually see yourself.”

“I did!” Merlin insisted, annoyed.

“Did he look exactly like you? Perfect copy?” Gwaine pushed. Merlin took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I suppose not—”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Oh, stop that.” Merlin grumbled.

“No.” Gwaine said stubbornly. “I knew you before all this,” He waved over Merlin, “happened. I still remember when you were carefree, using magic to pull all sorts of shenanigans.” Merlin crossed his arms, feeling angry at everything and nothing at the same time. “C’mon, don’t act like that. I know you remember it too. I don’t know when you started hiding away, but I’m not surprised at all that you saw yourself in that forest.”

“Because I’m evil?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“I don’t think the forest affected me the same way it did all of you. Having magic and all.” Merlin said, ignoring Gwaine’s last comment. “I think it showed me the future, not a fear. I think it did the same for Aviana, too. That’s why she died.”

“Three other knights died too, though.” Gwaine pointed out. Merlin huffed.

“You didn’t see it.”

“Merlin, the whole point of the forest was to make you scared! It wasn’t showing you the future. Because there is not one future that you turn out evil. Not one.”

“You didn’t see it, Gwaine.”

“I didn’t have to.” Gwaine responded simply. He seemed to inspect Merlin’s face for a moment, then sighed. “Ya know, one of these days you might actually believe me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Merlin recognized Gwaine’s joking tone as a truce and took it gratefully.

“And when you do, you’ll come back and remind me how wise I am? And how I’m the greatest knight in all of Camelot?” Gwaine teased with a smile.

“Naturally.” Merlin pretended to sigh with a roll of his eyes.

“So what’s got you up so late tonight, my friend?” Gwaine asked.

“Oh, I’m supposed to being doing chores.” Merlin answered, crinkling his nose.

“What? Tell the other servants to do it! You are on holiday! In a very pretty Kingdom!”

“Surely not better than Camelot? Or are you trying to convince me to say something treasonous?” Merlin smiled.

“No, not better than Camelot,” Gwaine relented, “After all, Camelot is home.”

Not long after that, Merlin leaves Gwaine’s room. Surely he’d waited long enough, and Arthur would be in his quarters? He opened the door with hope, which diminished as soon as he saw the empty room. With a sigh, he began on his chores.

Really, there isn’t much to do here. Especially at night. So Merlin takes his time with the few tasks he as, not using magic even for the fire—especially for the fire—and works through each chore slowly.

All too soon and despite his stalling, Merlin has finished. There is no more reason to wait here. He really should go to bed.

He hovers by the fireplace. A few more minutes. Surely Arthur would come up soon, it was already so very late.

But he didn’t.

Eventually Merlin forced himself up and out of the room. A little annoyed and a lot more disappointed than he should be. He felt silly for waiting so long, when he could have been in bed ages ago. But he would’ve had to sleep on his own, and he doesn’t know if he could ever adjust to the feeling of not having Arthur beside him.

He turns around with a sigh and nearly runs into Arthur, who had finally appeared in the hallway.

“Oh, I’m sorry darling, were you waiting for me?” He asked, his hands steadying Merlin’s shoulders as his eyes scanned over Merlin’s face.

“Oh, I mean,” Merlin stammered, embarrassed because yes, he very much had been waiting, “Just, finishing my chores, is all.”

“Oh.” Did Arthur sound disappointed? Merlin can’t tell.

“Yeah.”

“Well, do you want to come in and hear about the rest of the meeting? It went really well!” Arthur pushed.

“Sure!” Merlin answered all too enthusiastically, relieved to have an invitation to see Arthur for even one moment more.

Merlin helped Arthur dress for bed as he talked excitedly about negotiations, which had finally finished in its entirety. Camelot had come out protected, with a strong alliance, and an agreement for both Kingdoms to end the ban on magic. Merlin hates that his stomach dropped uncomfortably at the last bit.

“That’s really exciting. I’m so proud of you!” Merlin cheered as he tucked Arthur into bed. He allowed himself a moment to pet his hair. Arthur smiled.

“It’s all your fault. Always complimenting me. I’m beginning to believe you.”

“Good.” Merlin answered honestly, wondering for a moment if he could get away with giving Arthur a kiss on his forehead.

And then he realizes in a daze that they’ve both been looking at each other for far too long.

“Could I stay?” Merlin heard himself saying, though he didn’t remember planning to ask. “I sleep better next to you, too.”

Merlin doesn’t even have time doubt himself or regret what he’s done because Arthur is already grinning and moving over to make room. Merlin strips once again to his underclothes and slips into bed.

“I lied. It’s because your bed is so much more comfortable than mine. It’s completely unfair.” Merlin states matter-of-factly, even though he had never even tried his bed down in the servant’s corridor. Strangely, he no longer felt nervous. Sharing a bed with Arthur is as comfortable as stealing his breakfast.

“You’re just using me for my bed!” Arthur scoffed.

“Sorry. I just thought you should know.”

“Clotpole.” Arthur pouts.

“Hey, that’s my word!” Merlin complains.

“Yes, and it fits you very well.”

They stayed up later than they should, talking about nothing and giggling. Eventually it was Merlin who fell asleep first, while Arthur had been on a tangent he couldn’t quite pay attention to. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips, because he honestly could not help it.

Chapter Text

Their final full day in King Stephan’s Kingdom went by quickly. Merlin spends most of his time in the gardens. Arthur joins him whenever he could find time.

Merlin slept in his bed again that night, and fell asleep after Arthur this time, which means that he saw the small smile on his peaceful face. A good dream, then? Had he been cured of his nightmares from the last visit to the druid camp?

Secretly, selfishly, Merlin hoped Arthur’s lack of nightmares had something to do with Merlin being so close. It was a silly thought, of course, but…nice to pretend, nonetheless.

The following morning they ready the horses, pack their gear, and, awfully, bind their dead.

It was not going to be a delightful day of travel, when three lifeless friends were strapped at the back of the party. But they had to return the bodies to the families.

Merlin would not let himself look at Jamie. He couldn’t bear it.

The longer the day went on, however, the more chatter he could hear amongst the group. Not happy, but not solemn. Just conversation, to let the hours pass more quickly.

The journey home was much longer; they dared not return through Serpent’s Pass.

In the three nights it took to return to Camelot, Merlin slept beside Arthur. Every single night. Merlin knows he wants too much, by hoping to continue this tradition forever. But Arthur must enjoy this too, right? The comfort, the closeness. Merlin needs it more than he needs air.

On the final night, Merlin remembers the camp of the dead druids. They are nearby, now. Arthur will want to go and see them, he is sure. So Merlin stands aside as everyone else begins readying their blankets, and waits for Arthur. Arthur’s smile is soft and a little bit surprised and it makes Merlin’s heart swell.

Merlin had been thinking about this all day, and he remembers a ceremony from the druids he’d learned of a long time ago. He had pushed it out of his mind, though he doesn’t really know why. He tries not to think about the druids too often, usually.

It doesn’t matter.

He’d taken most of the day to recall exactly how to do it, so when they arrive at the camp, Merlin only waits a few moments to ask Arthur’s permission.

“Would you mind,” He began, and Arthur looked up from the ground to him, “If I added something to this place?”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin led him toward the grave that he’d had commissioned. It was such a tribute to Arthur’s kindness and grief that he would carry this heavy stone out here, alone, without telling a single soul.

But Merlin’s magic hummed between his toes, disagreeing. The souls here knew. They knew he’d brought this here to honor them. He could feel their gratitude.

Merlin began casting the spell from memory, words almost long forgotten, feeling foreign on his tongue.

Then strings begin to connect the trees, becoming almost a sort of clothesline as he conjured flags and clothes to drape over it. When he’s finished with the protection and warning spell, he begins the real part of the burial ritual. He feels his magic pull him toward the ground, and a moment later he finds himself sitting cross-legged, Arthur by his side.

He reawakens the ghosts they’d seen last time.

Except they’re not ghosts—not really. They’re memories. They are the dreams that never were, and they dance among the dead.

Merlin’s mouth continues without him having to really try, and he realizes it’s because the druids are helping him. They are talking through him, the extra bit of magic they need to at last find peace.

And then those golden outlines fade away, and the night is so still that he almost questions whether it happened at all.

“What did you do?” Arthur asked softly.

“It’s an ancient druid ritual, to put the spirits here at peace. The flags and cloths are a warning to anyone that comes here to not disturb this place.” He explained.

“Thank you.” Arthur whispered, then furrowed his eyebrows. He twisted his ring nervously. “Could I still come here, do you think? I’m not sure why. I suppose I just like the idea of someone looking in on them.”

Merlin knows the answer, but he puts his hand to the ground anyway. Their magic is softer now, as if sleeping. Some of it is within the protections of the warding spell. Most of it is hidden in the gravestone—the one carved with their flowers and their language.

“I think they know you are here to give them comfort. I don’t think you would be able to disturb them.” Merlin answered. Arthur’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a shaky breath.

“Oh.”

They began the trek back to their friends a short time after. Merlin held Arthur’s hand as they walked, though if Arthur noticed he didn’t express it. Merlin sensed he was too busy thinking, too busy learning to let go.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur asked as he sat beside Percy, around the fire. Merlin noticed him clap a comforting hand on Percy’s shoulder without flinching. It felt a lot like progress.

Merlin sits himself beside Gwaine, who is the other knight standing guard. Gwaine wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Better. Much better.” Percival answered, sounding it. Gwaine seemed to give a proud smile at this. Merlin wondered what they’d been talking about before he and Arthur returned, wondered if Gwaine had been asking or receiving that same question.

The four of them talked by the fire awhile. It seemed neither Arthur or Merlin felt ready to sleep. He wanted this moment of peace to carry on, just for a little while longer.

“Arthur, you’ll have to speak up,” Percival is saying, “Leon is snoring far too loudly for me to hear anything you’re saying.”

Everyone giggles, and when Leon’s snoring catches for a moment only to become louder, the group absolutely erupts in laughter.

“Percy, you snore louder than anyone!” Arthur teased. Percy faked an offended gasp. “See? Even awake, you’re the loudest breather.”

After a while, Percy eventually got tired of throwing things at his King, and Merlin went to lie beside Arthur.

Overall, it wasn’t such a bad journey home.

Upon returning to Camelot, Merlin departs from Arthur’s side to go check on Gaius.

“You can have the day off, if you’d like. I know it’s been a weary few days of travel.” He’d said, before Merlin had abandoned him. Well, he’d almost said. By the time he got to ‘weary few days’ Merlin was already laughing in his face and promising to return soon.

As if he would miss Morgana’s official magic debut at dinner.

“Gaius!” He called as he walked through the door.

“Merlin, my boy.” He reached out to give Merlin a hug for a few moments. Merlin asks Gaius how things have been in Camelot, and how many patients he’s seen, and has he been eating properly?

After they’ve finished catching up, however, Merlin must ask what he’d been waiting to ask.

“Gaius, have you ever heard of Serpent’s Pass?” Gaius raised an eyebrow. “We traveled through it, and I could have sworn I read it somewhere.”

“Serpent’s Pass…” Gaius trailed off, then walked across the room, pulling books off his shelves. These are magic books, the kind that used to be hidden in the floorboards, but Gaius had stopped bothering to hide them after Arthur had found out about Merlin’s magic. After all, he is King. If he wanted to arrest Merlin and Gaius, he could.

“Ah! Yes! Serpent’s Pass.” He skimmed the cryptic book, and Merlin leaned to look over his shoulder. “Serpents may pass if they do not yield, beware your fear in a dead man’s field.” He read aloud.

“That’s what I thought. That sentence finally came to me when I was in it already. If I’d just remembered a few hours before…” Merlin ended in a guilty murmur. Gaius ignored the book in favor of turning to face Merlin.

“What happened, Merlin?”

“Everyone went mad.” Merlin began. And as soon as he began to speak, he realized that this is the first he’s properly talked about it. About all of it. His nightmare had been scary, yes, but he’s always been afraid of himself. This is the first time he’s really thought about what happened. The full, awful scope of what actually happened. “Arthur ran off first, and my skin got all itchy, and then everyone started to panic. Leon seemed to get out on his own, but I had to remember the rule to get out of mine. We tried to help everyone, but we just weren’t fast enough—”

Merlin hadn’t realized he was scrubbing furiously at his arms until Gaius reached out held him still.

“It’s okay, my boy.”

“Arthur was almost dead, his heart was so fast—”

You did the best you could.”

“I should have looked before we went—”

“You did everything you could, Merlin.” Gaius said firmly, pulling him into a hug. It’s a proper hug this time, not the quick welcoming one they’d had before.

Merlin isn’t trying to get away, really, he just can’t help but squirm. Gaius had stopped him from scratching it, but his skin still felt aflame.

And now it’s not just his skin. He can smell the forest around him again, can feel the heave of his lungs as he runs from person to person, can hear the prayers leave his lips that he arrives in time, can feel the bile in his throat when he catches sight of Jamie’s dead eyes…

“Merlin?” Merlin just shakes his head, which somehow only makes him dizzier. He feels his throat gulping for air but can’t seem to comply with the command. Gaius is still calling his name, he thinks, but he can’t really focus on it. Is Gaius holding him up?

His body feels like he should be sinking, and his lungs feel like he’s been running, and his mind is spinning and the rest of him is stuck somewhere between. He’s caught between the forest and now, and Arthur is screaming for him, or maybe it’s Gaius, or maybe it doesn’t matter at all—

“Merlin.” Merlin tries to focus his eyes on who’s talking. Gaius has backed up a bit, but still holds both of Merlin’s hands on his own. “I am going to have you sit down, alright? Just sit down, yes, like that, and put your head between your knees…”

It takes Merlin several minutes to be able to breathe properly.

“I’m sorry,” He begins, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s alright, my boy. It seems you became overwhelmed. You have gone through a great ordeal of suffering.”

Merlin shakes his head, annoyed at Gaius’ gentle tone.

“No, no, I’m not even one of the ones that died—”

“You don’t have to be. Merlin,” Gaius waits for Merlin to look up at him, “You did the best you could.”

Gaius has been saying that a lot, lately. Not just today. It seems whenever Merlin feels most that he is grasping at strings, Gaius tends to be waiting for him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Eventually he is ready to get up again. Gaius makes him change and forces him to eat lunch together. It should annoy Merlin, probably. But he just feels a sense of calm wash over him. He wonders if this is how Gaius feels all the time. There is a stillness to him. He is always so level-headed.

By the time Merlin is on his way to return to Arthur, he is feeling much better.

Except he doesn’t reach Arthur, because he is tugged backward into a dark corridor, someone grabbing at the back of his tunic.

Chapter Text

“Finally!” The voice behind him shouts.

Merlin turns around to face his attacker, who turns out to be a very excited Gwen.

“Where have you been?! I’ve been waiting for you all day!” She squeaked. He scans her face, which is beaming so brightly that the shine of her smile is practically bouncing off the walls.

“What’s with you?” He asked with a raised brow.

“Morgana and I are together!” She squealed. “Officially! Can you believe it?” She sighed happily leaning against the wall across from Merlin. He leans on his wall, facing her.

“What?! Gwen, that is great!” He exclaimed.

“I know!”

“How did it finally happen? What’d she say?” Merlin asked.

“Actually…I told her. She was just looking out the window, and laughing, and I just told her that I loved her. And I also explained how beautiful she is. Actually, my mind got stuck on that bit for a while, so I was just going on and on about all the parts of her that are lovely, which is everything, and then she was kissing me!”

Merlin burst out laughing, and jumped to pull Gwen in a big hug.

“I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too!”

“What happened to not asking for too much? To not hoping?” Merlin teased.

“That’s for idiots. Definitely hope. Hope is the best.” She sighed, her voice sounding a bit too dreamy. Merlin narrowed his eyes at her.

“Exactly how ‘together’ did you two get?”

Gwen stood stock still for a moment, and then her head ducked down and she smiled at the ground, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Very.” She looked up, nodding vehemently, “Very, very together.”

Merlin cackled.

“No way!”

“Yes! TWICE!” She all but yelled.

“What?!” Merlin exclaimed, “Why would you do this while I was gone? I should have had line-by-line updates!”

“I know, I’m sorry—But, I heard from Morgana who heard from Leon that you and Arthur looked very cuddly on your travels.” Gwen’s accusation took him by surprise and his eyes widened, silently cursing Leon. He must have overheard them making fun of his snoring.

“It’s not like that.” He explained, and hated himself for sounding a little disappointed. Because he isn’t, not really. He’s been able to sleep beside Arthur, holding him closer and for longer than he ever has before. But compared to Gwen, who is finally being courted by the love of her life, the prospects of platonic cuddling feels a bit dim.

“Oh?” She asks, seeming to catch the hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“We are just going to bed with each other. Not going to bed…together.”

“Oh.” She frowns, sounding disappointed for him.

“That’s alright,” He shakes off the feeling with a shrug, and can’t help but gush, “He always cuddles right into my chest, it’s so lovely, I can’t even stand it.”

“And he’s so strong, too. Handsome.” She helps. He glares at her.

“Gwen!”

“What? I have eyes. Everyone thinks he’s strong and handsome. I’m pretty sure that if someone were to say otherwise it would be treason.”

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe that you and Morgana—Ah! I’m so happy for you!”

“And if I thought she was perfect before, that idea has been impossibly, and easily, crushed.” She said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she never calls me Gwen anymore. Or if she does it’s because we’re with other people. Sometimes not even then. It’s always these sweet pet names, and she—”

“No, wait, don’t move on! What does she call you?!”

“All kinds of things! Gorgeous, dreamgirl—that’s one of my favorites but I’ll never tell her that—love, sunshine, muffin—that one is sort of an inside joke.”

“You guys are so adorable it makes me a little sick.” Merlin teased, even though he was genuinely so excited for his friend. She fakes a glare at him, sticking her tongue out, which makes him laugh. “So, what else?”

“Well she’s always giving me flowers, and hiding sweets for me that she knows I’ll like. Gives me very fancy dresses, I don’t know where I’ll even wear them, but I love them. She even,” Gwen dramatically looks side to side to make sure the corridor is still clear, “Writes me poetry. In little love letters.”

“What?!”

“I know!”

“That is so sweet. Is she any good?”

“Strangely, yes. I think she doesn’t want anyone to know because she worries it will make her look too soft, but I think she could reshape Kingdoms with her words.”

“If anyone could, it’s her.” Merlin agrees.

They gossip a while longer, but eventually Gwen starts babbling about Morgana’s least favorite color, and how soft her lips are, and other things Merlin doesn’t really need or want to know, and he drags her to go to council.

Arthur is planning to announce the repeal of the ban on magic during the meeting today, and Merlin wants to be there in case someone physically manifests their disagreement. Also, between Gaius and Gwen, Merlin has been ignoring Arthur all day.

Arthur wastes no time in the meeting. His announcement is so abrupt that Merlin barely has time to gauge the reactions.

“Sire!” One exclaims. “We cannot simply—”

“Fortunately or otherwise,” Arthur interrupts him, voice firm but calm, “Our treaty with King Stephan’s Kingdom rests on Camelot’s removal of the ban.”

“It was against Uther’s wishes!” Another says.

“They’ll kill us by morning!”

“The druids are evil. King Uther was trying to protect us!”
Merlin readies himself, pushing off the wall, ready to set the four offending men aflame.

But, as it turns out, he needn’t have worried.

Arthur slams his hands on the table, hard. Then he leans forward and practically growls at the men who opposed the new law.

“Uther is dead.” His voice is a slow whisper, but the threat underlying it is icy and, honestly, frightening. “I am your King. Insult magic again, and it’ll be treason.”

Merlin melts. He loves him. He leans back against the wall.

“He's really taken to being King, isn’t he?” Gwen whispers.

“You’re telling me.” Merlin answered quietly, pretending to fan himself with his hand. Gwen giggled, then looked nervously around to see if anyone had noticed. If anyone had, they didn’t look—afraid to take their eyes off Arthur.

“You four,” Arthur points, “Are dismissed. Permanently and immediately. You will be escorted out of the castle.”

“What?!” One of them exclaims, standing. But under Arthur’s murderous glare, he takes a step back, quickly losing any bravery he’d had. Good.

“Please, Sire, we apologize. We didn’t mean to—”

“Stop. Talking. You show no respect to the crown. Your loyalty clearly died with Uther. You are excused.”

Another tries to speak up, but Arthur waves a hand, and the guards at the door collect them and force all four men to leave.

Arthur waits until the door closes behind them, before turning to the remaining members with a calm smile.

“Now,” He said brightly, “There are some changes to be made. Firstly, I plan to appoint a court sorcerer, to help bridge the gap with the druids.”

Merlin blinks.

He had agreed to be the Court Sorcerer, but he shouldn’t have. He can’t. Oh, Gods, Arthur is going to announce him now, and there will be no going back…

“One will be appointed shortly.”

Merlin’s brows furrow, and he catches Arthur looking away from him.

He’d waited to announce his new title.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, he wants to say.

The rest of the meeting is boring by comparison, and Gwen spends the rest of Council quietly chatting about Morgana. In fact, this conversation carries over into dinner, where Gwen refuses her newly awarded seat at the table in favor of keeping Merlin company at the wall.

“How could I leave you all alone over here when I’ve been waiting ages to catch up?” She’d explained. Merlin had shrugged, but he appreciated not having to stand alone. Events like this were much more fun when he had Gwen to talk to.

But before dinner can properly begin, Morgana stands, drink in hand.

“I have an announcement to make, if you please.’ She begins. Merlin can hear the slight shake in her voice and squeezes Gwen’s arm lightly. “I am an enchantress.”

Whatever nerves she might have had are squashed immediately by a roar of applause by nearly everyone at the table. Merlin can’t help but smile as Arthur audibly hurrahs. Is this really the same man Merlin had been terrified to explain his magic to?

“Thank you to my King, Arthur, for finally bringing about a Kingdom in which I can live freely, too.” She finished, raising her glass. The rest of the table mirrors this action, and another round of celebration hits the table.

“Isn’t she so lovely when she’s blushing?” Gwen murmurs, not taking her eyes off Morgana. Merlin bumps her shoulder fondly.

“Sure, sure.” He agrees.

“I’ve been compiling a mental list of things that make her blush, it’s quite hard to do, you know, but when we’re alone—”

“Gwen!” Merlin exclaims quietly, slapping her arm lightly. Gwen giggles. “She clearly brings out the worst in you.”

“Oh, you have no idea, especially when—”

“La-la-la-la,” He rushes, “Gwen, I am not listening to you anymore,” Merlin cuts her off, even though he knows she was fully expecting him to. As excited as she must be, she would never speak anything lewd so publicly. What he should really be worried about is if she tricks him into an empty corridor again. “I have no interest in whatever you and Morgana have been up to lately.”

She laughs fully, and he can’t help but join, eventually clinging to each other and the wall to stop from falling to the floor in their hysterics. Each time a knight gives them a tilted look, they can't help but laugh even harder.

Eventually dinner ends, and Merlin puts on a show about being relieved to escape Gwen, which earns him a glare.

“I’ve barely seen you, today.” Arthur states, as they walk side-by-side to his quarters.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy catching up with everyone.” Merlin explained, launching into a full rant about Gwen, and how she’s become absolutely obsessed with Morgana.

“More than ever!” He says. He avoids mentioning how they are officially courting now, however, because he has a nagging feeling that Morgana would want to be the one to tell him.

“And what about before that?” Arthur asked good naturedly, “How were things with Gaius?”

Merlin becomes tongue-tied for a moment, remembering the strange, overwhelming panic that had occurred. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t feel like talking about it. Maybe because he doesn’t want to worry Arthur, or maybe because he’s embarrassed. A wiser voice in his head guesses that it’s because he should have had any panic over it at all.

Really, he was one of the luckiest. Especially compared to Gwaine or Arthur or Percy. Especially compared to Jamie. So what, that he was running around a forest, trying to protect people? That’s nothing new.

The whole thing feels silly, now. Selfish.

He tries not to break his stride as he thinks about what to say instead.

“Oh, he kept me busy with chores and things. It’s like I’m the only one who does any cleaning!”

Arthur laughs.

“We did have a nice lunch together, though.” Merlin continues, more truthfully, “I am always glad when I get to spend time with him.”

Arthur coos a bit, then tells Merlin about his day, which sounds much less eventful in comparison to Merlin’s. He had, however, missed Morgana jumping up and down when Arthur had first seen her this morning and announced that magic would at last be formally safe in Camelot.

“I’m just so happy today.” He said softly, as Merlin was helping him get ready for bed. He didn’t go on, and Merlin wondered if he knew he’d even said it aloud.

“There is a very bright future for Camelot.” Merlin agrees.

Without really thinking about it, Merlin slips into bed beside Arthur. This is the first they’d ever lied together in his bed, in his quarters, but somehow Merlin feels completely at home beside him. As if they were always meant to be here.

They talk for a little while longer, Arthur curled close to him, but Merlin can feel sleep overtaking him.

Merlin’s gray dreams that night have an outline of something new, that night. Something safe and warm. He finds that he doesn’t mind at all.