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They are sat by the campfire, out in the woods - supposedly on patrol but really just to get away from Camelot for a bit.
That's when Arthur brings it up: the topic Merlin thought they had unspokenly agreed not to speak of...
"You know I want you." Merlin's head shoots up so fast his neck cracks.
Arthur is looking right at him from across the fire; the dancing flames making the shadows of his face shift.
He is dead serious and Merlin has to swallow nervously.
"It's not a secret I try to hide." Arthur gives a little shrug as he glances at his hands.
He is twisting his ring, the one with the royal seal, and it's the only sign Merlin has that he is nervous too.
"I know you want me." Arthur's eyes meet his and for a heartbeat Merlin holds his gaze before he has to look away.
He opens his mouth to speak but Arthur doesn't let him. "Don't be saying our hands are tied."
His tone is almost joking but it is an order, even if his king doesn't mean for it to be one, and Merlin's mouth snaps shut in an instant.
Arthur sighs and the smoke between them swirls, then he stands and moves around the fire to him.
Merlin stands to meet him, he wants to be on his feet for this - he's just not sure if it's so he can run towards or away from him...
"You claim it's not in the cards, that destiny is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me?"
Merlin wants to tell him, to say it's not that he is being pulled away but that Arthur will leave - that he will always have to leave.
For his queen, for an heir, for Camelot and for Albion.
Merlin can't have him; he can't be that selfish.
Arthur's voice is soft like a barn owl's wings over fresh snow when he leans in close and whispers.
"But you're here, in my heart. So who can stop me if I decide that you're my destiny?"
The inherent rebellion of his words sends a chill down Merlin's spine.
For the briefest moment he allows himself to imagine it. They could rebel against their fates?
He looks back at Arthur and another chill runs through him, but this one is quite different.
He is every inch the king in that moment, even without a crown and his fingers dirty from collecting firewood at his manservant's side.
He is so stubborn; and even though Merlin loves him for it, his regal determination is breaking his heart.
"What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine?" Arthur flings his arms wide to the dark and empty forest around them.
It's a big dramatic gesture that Merlin isn't used to seeing on the Pendragons.
Arthur was born and raised a prince, taught to control his body on the field in battle as much as in court among nobles.
Even out here in the woods, just the two of them, he never expresses himself as boldly as he is doing now.
And Merlin wants to kiss him so bad... But he can't.
"Nothing could keep us apart, if we didn't want it too." He is so earnest. "You'd be the one I was meant to find." He is sincere.
He is wearing his heart on his sleeve; this is a big risk and Merlin can see in his eyes that he knows what he is risking by even speaking about this.
But it's like he cannot hold this in any longer... His love? For Merlin?
"It's up to you and me. No one can say what we get to be - so why don't we rewrite the stars?"
Arthur gazes up at the night sky, through the dark treetops, and reaches out with one hand to those pinpricks of starlight as if he could rearrange them with just a touch.
Merlin could probably position them to spell out his name across the horizon if he wanted. But he shouldn't, so he won't.
"Maybe the world could be ours tonight." Arthur's gaze returns to Merlin's face, but his expression hasn't changed.
He's still staring in wonder at the stars, but now those stars are Merlin's eyes, the curl of his lip, the freckles across his nose - and Arthur can't look away.
The king takes his servant's hands in his, the grip is intimate and tender.
But Merlin pulls his fingers free and steps back, creating distance between them so he can breath (and before he does something he may regret).
"You think it's easy?" He speaks for the first time, since Arthur had brought up the subject and begun his declarations.
His voice is gravelly and hoarse like he hasn't spoken in days.
He shakes his head, staring at Arthur - toeing the line between incredulous and agonised. "You think I don't want to run to you?"
Arthur takes a step towards him, without even thinking about it, like it's on instinct; and Merlin quickly raises one trembling hand, signalling him to stop.
He halts fast, his expression crumbling.
"There are mountains..." Merlin breathes out shakily.
He wants so desperately to explain but he cannot give Arthur all the answers to his questions - not yet.
"There are doors that we can't walk through."
He is telling him 'no'. And even though he's been saying that to the prattish prince since day one, this is the first denial that feels like a crime.
Arthur opens his mouth to argue but this time Merlin is the one not to give him chance to speak.
"I know you're wondering why, because we're able to be just you and me outside those walls."
He gestures back in the general direction of Camelot and his king's face stiffens like iron plunged into cold water.
Merlin takes a single step towards him, trying to hide the pain in his heart at the flicker of hope that creeps into Arthur's features when he approaches.
He wants to comfort him, even as he wants to keep him as far away as possible from him.
His legs waver with the uncertainty and his arms itch to reach out for him.
"When we go back, you're gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all..."
He shakes his head, trying to soften the blow but he can't, so he speaks honestly even as he lies.
His voice remains quieter than a whisper and he is desperate to look away but somehow is unable to cease studying Arthur's face.
"No one can rewrite the stars, Arthur."
"Merlin-" His name bursts from Arthur's lips like water from a dam; uttered with such pain, yet such longing.
But Merlin has had enough, he can't do this - he can't look at Arthur's face and see such love and cruel, dangerous hope there.
He turns away and rants to the voiceless trees with a rage he wishes was as feigned as the fists at his sides.
"No one can rewrite the stars!" He repeats in a shout before turning accusingly back to Arthur. "How can you say you'll be mine? Everything keeps us apart!"
He doesn't need to list all the reasons this wouldn't work, why it's a terrible idea to even discuss it!
Arthur knows them all already, at least enough of them to know he shouldn't ever bring it up.
Yet he has, and here they are.
"I'm not the one you were meant to find." Merlin tells him bitterly - he wishes he wasn't so resentful, he wishes so many things.
He dreams about them sometimes: him standing at Arthur's side instead of two steps behind.
But when he wakes, like he always has to, then he's back in the real world.
"It's not up to you, it's not up to me." He shakes his head and Arthur does too - but one movement is of determination, the other of refusal.
"When everyone tells us what we can be, how can we rewrite the stars?" Merlin's voice is broken, just jagged shards.
Because that is why he doesn't just rearrange the heavens, even though he probably can - he'd be dead before the sun rose to hide his 'crimes'.
"How can you say the world can be ours tonight?" Every moment they have must end, every touch is momentary, every shared glance is fleeting.
And Merlin hates the way tears are welling in his eyes, he tries to blame the smoke but he knows it's a lie. One of so many... Too many.
"All I want is to fly with you." The words bring Merlin back to the present, blinking in the firelight.
He locks eyes with Arthur, a rebuttal on his lips, but there is no sign of insincerity in the king's expression.
He takes a step towards him and he doesn't back away.
"All I want is to fall with you."
He is speaking honestly, and Merlin just knows - in his very soul - that it is the truth.
The warlock has nothing to say, his mouth hangs open and silent.
"So just give me all of you?" Arthur whispers to him, his mouth now inches from Merlin's.
The offer is there, and now it's been made it cannot be taken back.
It won't last forever. But Merlin knows that nothing ever does.
"It feels impossible." He whispers back to Arthur, his eyes distracted by his lips.
"It's not impossible." Arthur reassures him, his shoulders are set and his back is straight.
He is the picture of confidence and kingly assuredness.
But up close Merlin can see how his pulse is rapid and the way his brows are furrowed.
Arthur reaches up, slowly - giving Merlin time to pull away (but he doesn't) - and with a thumb he outlines Merlin's mouth.
His other hand comes up around Merlin's waist and in reply Merlin rests his palms on Arthur's hips.
They are so close they are sharing breaths and can feel each other's heartbeats.
Merlin's gaze finally leaves Arthur's jawline and raises to meet his steady gaze.
He has to blink and swallow thickly at the open expression of love and affection he finds there.
"Is it possible?" He wants to hate how hopeful he sounds, but he can't hate anything with his king holding him like this.
"Say that it's possible." Arthur nods slightly, his forehead bumping lightly against Merlin's.
"How do we rewrite the stars?" Merlin asks him, desperately.
"Say you were made to be mine." Arthur's reply is simple, direct - so like him, the soldier at heart.
Merlin can't help it: he draws back a little and sucks in a sharp breath.
Arthur's hands move to steady him, to comfort and convince him; one hand rests above his heart, gently moving with the rhythm of his breathing.
"Nothing can keep us apart." Arthur repeats, encouragingly.
He's so sure, so certain.
"Because you are the one I was meant to find." Merlin confesses in a rush.
The words hang in the chill air for a moment as they stare into each other's eyes like lovesick teens.
"It's up to you and it's up to me." Merlin agrees at last, still speaking no louder than a murmur.
But Arthur can hear him just fine. He always does.
"No one can say what we get to be." The King of Camelot is determined, obstinate and adoring.
He will get his way, he will make things right; if someone disagrees with him then they won't for long.
He is powerful, more than he knows, and strong and good...
Merlin doesn't deserve him and maybe this is all a dream.
Maybe those mushrooms in the stew have made them crazy.
Maybe they're both under a spell - or Arthur is and Merlin is just stupid, desperate, lonely... And in love.
But when Arthur starts to speak again, to try and offer more encouragement: "Why don't we rewrite the stars? Change the world just to be ours-"
Merlin cuts him off by pressing his lips to his.
At first Arthur is startled but then he returns Merlin's nervous, terrified kiss.
When Merlin eventually pulls away, he rests his forehead against Arthur's as they both quietly pant for air.
He can hear the fire crackling, the distant hoot of an howl, the wind in the branches above their heads.
"You know I want you." He whispers, knowing that Arthur can feel the warmth of his breath against his skin. "It's not a secret I try to hide."
Arthur kisses him again, winding his fingers into Merlin's hair; and for a heartbeat, Merlin returns the kiss.
For one heartbeat, time stands still and Merlin kisses his king like he never will again...
Then time resumes, the dream is over.
Sanity and logic return as reality takes back control.
"But I can't have you." Merlin confesses, tears surfacing in his eyes against his efforts.
Arthur lets out a cry: a quiet and anguished noise that Merlin has never heard him make the like of before.
And he swears that he can hear his own heart breaking at the sound of it and the sight of matching tears in Arthur's eyes.
He starts to shake his head, and once he starts he can't seem to stop; pulling back from Arthur's face as he does.
The distance between them only increases by inches but somehow it suddenly feels like miles.
"We're bound to break and..." His voice cracks, the words halt on his tongue as if his very body is rebelling against this.
But Merlin doesn't have a choice, not here, not now, not ever - he never does.
He knows his role: his place cannot be at Arthur's side, hand in hand.
His destiny and Arthur's are set. It is not his fate to be the one for Arthur.
Even if it seems to be Arthur's fate to be everything to Merlin.
He cannot have him and he cannot allow himself be had - to belong, to be loved.
He doesn't deserve it, he hasn't earned it.
He has a job to do and it isn't picking up Arthur's dirty socks.
Maybe he could rewrite the stars, spell out the name of his king and confess his love to the world...
But it doesn't matter. He can't. It is not an option.
So he looks Arthur in the eye, not flinching (on the outside) at the tears rolling down his cheeks, and speaks the truth.
"I'm sorry. My hands are tied."