Archive of Our Own

The problem with Arthur- well, there were a lot of problems with Arthur. He was an ass, for one. He had no sense of manners, for another. He also had a tendency to ignore how much people did for him (specifically Merlin), but that wasn’t the problem Merlin was dealing with at that moment.

No, the problem was quite simple; Arthur was hot.

Merlin had noticed this when they’d first met. He wasn’t blind. It had been overridden by the thought “oh, this guy is a prat,” and then, “oh, this guy is the son of Uther fucking Pendragon.” Both thoughts had worked as good Arthur-Attraction repellent for a while.

It had also helped, for the first week or so, that he was working for Arthur. Arthur seemed determined to make Merlin’s life hell. He had thrown things, purposefully made messes just so they’d need cleaning, and held a complete disregard for Merlin’s life and safety. Working for him didn’t help considering the rest of Merlin’s life regarding Arthur, which was mostly dressing, undressing, and bathing him, but he just focused on Arthur's flaws, and it mostly worked out in the end.

(Really, what asshole had decided that Arthur would have that physique? Or that hair? Or that stupid, infuriating grin? Or- well. Most of himself, actually).

Asshole tendencies aside, Arthur was incredibly hot, which was fine. Merlin remembered that brief period when he’d crushed on Will, and it had passed after a while. As long as he kept his distance (which was difficult when literally bathing the man), it’d be fine. Eventually.

Or, it would have been, if it wasn’t for a few recent developments.

Firstly, Arthur wasn’t actually that awful. If he wanted, he could be kind. Him even having that ability was insane, considering he was, again, the son of Uther Pendragon. It made it harder to dislike the ass.

Secondly, Merlin only had good self control when he had the time to control himself. He didn’t anymore. It was only a few months into his required employment, and he was working his ass off. Everyone in the world wanted to kill Arthur. Granted, Merlin wanted to kill him sometimes, but everyone else’s murderous tendencies were because of his father’s actions. If Arthur was to be killed, it wasn’t going to be because of his father’s insanity. Merlin stood by that.

So Merlin was basically hanging on by a thread while surrounded by possibly the one man whose arm muscles made him uncomfortably dizzy. that would be manageable, if it wasn’t for the third, and most important part; Arthur was acting odd.

He didn’t seem to know he was acting odd. Arthur still swaggered around, chest puffed out as he barked orders and hid the little amount of good he harbored deep within his chest. But he’d begun watching Merlin during the oddest of times. Whenever Merlin would turn around to face him, Arthur would blink, furrow his eyebrows, and then immediately focus on something else.

Merlin knew he was, himself, attracted to men. He also knew that Uther Pendragon would never tell his son that was a possibility. He also knew, however, that attraction was a sneaky thing that crept up on you. No matter how much you stuffed it into a closet or simply ignored it, you knew it was there. You also, almost always, showed it, and Merlin knew what those looks meant.

Merlin wasn’t going to act on it though. He was the prince’s servant. Nevermind that he could kill the prat in two seconds flat, that power difference mattered to everyone else. The other thing was that no one could know he had the ability to snap his chiseled back like a twig, or else he’d been sentenced to the pyre.

So Merlin existed. He folded towels, dodged plates, and resolutely kept his thoughts to himself whenever Arthur's gaze strayed.

Except today was different.

Merlin, for one, had stopped yet another assassination attempt. He would’ve been knighted three times if it wasn’t for magic doing the work. He’d also run around town, helping to cure some new ailment that’d cropped up, and cleaned all of Arthur's armor, but the day wasn't done. Arthur needed his fire tended to that night until he was able to go to bed. With all of this combined, Merlin was exhausted.

“Merlin,” Arthur called. Merlin had been forcing his eyes awake as he tended to a fire. It didn’t even make sense to have a fire- it was hot as hell. Merlin was already sweating underneath his thin layers.

Merlin turned around. He stifled a yawn. “What is it now?”

“How similar is Cenred's tax system?"

Merlin opened his mouth to make some retort, but he noticed the slight grimace on Arthur’s face. That meant some actually important legislation was being dealt with.

“Er, not at all, really,” He said, walking up to the desk. “Your taxes go towards some improvements within Camelot's walls— Cenred's goes straight to his pockets, I'm afraid."

“Hm. So you wouldn’t know too much."

Merlin groaned. Very rarely did Arthur talk about taxes unless his father was doing something, and usually, that something was strangling more money out of Camelot's peasants. “Is your father raising taxes again?”

Arthur’s silence was as good as yes.

“Listen-” Merlin snatched the paper from Arthur’s hands, ignoring his shout. “Any higher taxes are going to cause a rebellion at this point.”

“That’s bordering on treason, Merlin.”

“Wouldn’t want to start being treasonous, would I?” Merlin muttered, just to elicit Arthur’s squawk of outrage. He skimmed the lines of the document- lots of uses of “for the safety” and “the good of”, which just made it all the more infuriating. He watched a bead of sweat fall onto the parchment. “I don’t think it counts as treason if I’m trying to save his life.”

“I doubt a gang of revolting peasants could kill my father.”

Merlin snorted. That remark would've been far more infuriating if it wasn't for how Arthur had trained Merlin's village, had seen decent fighters in farmers and livestock workers. "Clearly you haven’t been around enough peasants.” He placed the paper back down, and he observed Arthur. He seemed to actually be deep in thought, which was oddly reassuring. He did listen to Merlin, sometimes.

“Even if I wanted to oppose this,” Arthur began, and Merlin felt a little spark of vindication in his chest, “how would I? My father would just tell me to be quiet.”

Merlin paused. He had, unfortunately, become relatively good at placating Uther, considering any suspicion on Uther's part towards him would lead to a fiery death. “Instead of taxing, divert the topic. He’s talking about the good of the people, right? Find something else he can take from them. Maybe encourage recruitment of some sort? Or manual labor?”

Arthur blinked. “That… may work, actually.”

Merlin couldn’t help but smile. “Careful sire, that was close to a compliment.”

Arthur swatted his head. “Shut up Merlin. And tend to the fire.”

“Why do you even want a fire?” Merlin complained as he walked back to the boiling hot area. “It's scalding hot today.”

“I need to be able to see, and it's not as if the stars outside will do me much help."

"Light your candles! Any other form of light that has less heat than a fire."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid you may secretly be a flower, the way you're wilting in the slightest of heat. Just- do as I say, Merlin."

Merlin obliged, but only because he could see Arthur making a decision, and it was one that could actually benefit Camelot. He kept his mouth shut and poked the fire with a stick.

Arthur could be so kind, sometimes, and for no exact reason. It would drive Merlin mad if he didn’t feel a sickening sense of relief first. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, he’d allow himself to hope. He’d imagine a world where, after revealing his magic, Arthur would go quiet. He would sit, and then he’d ask Merlin to tell him everything. And Merlin would. There had been enough quests and trials to fill a book already, and just the thought of that further compounding, secrets upon secrets upon secrets, made Merlin nauseous. 

Afterwards, Arthur would thank him, and the ban on magic would be lifted. It was an obviously foolish and naive hope, but it only existed because Arthur would do horribly kind and noble things out of the blue and then pretend he hadn't. In a roundabout way, it was all Arthur's fault that Merlin even cared about him.

“Do you really think the taxes would be that bad?”

Merlin parsed his words out, but, to the detriment of Gaius’ sanity, he’d never been a cautious man. “After the recent bout of plague? Yeah, I do.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. Then, there was the sound of a quill scratching against some parchment.

Merlin stifled a grin. “Anything interesting you’re writing, sire?”

“A possible solution. It’ll make the next week with my father more difficult, but…” Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It stuck up, and Merlin had the most annoying itch to touch it. He expertly stomped that feeling down. “If you’re right, the people of Camelot can’t afford this move.”

“They can’t.” Merlin watched Arthur as the man paused halfway through writing it. He decided to throw even more caution into the wind. “You’re a good man, Arthur.”

Arthur froze. Something flickered behind his eye as he looked up to Merlin, but it was shut down in a moment. “Well, of course, I am. I’m the prince.”

Merlin snorted, feeling the tension break. “God, I wonder how that crown fits on your head sometimes.”

Arthur sat up and fully turned to him, eyebrows raised and mouth curled into a half-smile. “What exactly does that mean, Merlin?”

“It means I’m surprised your head hasn’t snapped off from how much larger it is than the rest of you,” Merlin said. 

“I’m the crown prince,” Arthur said hotly. He shifted slightly closer, and that smile was still there, peeking out from a corner. “You can’t speak that way to me.”

“Of course not, my lord.” He did a mock-bow.

Arthur frowned at him. “That word’s not an insult. How do you make it sound like an insult?”

“Practice.”

“You're not fit to be a manservant. I even doubt if you're fit to clean the chamberpots here."

Regarding Merlin’s dusting duties, that was probably true. However, no manservant had probably saved Arthur from death as often as he had. “Yet I’m still here.”

“And I have no idea why,” Arthur muttered.

Merlin rolled his eyes and poked the fire again. God, it was hot. He could feel his neckerchief getting soaked with sweat. He unwrapped it and mopped his forehead.

“What are you doing?”

Merlin paused. Arthur’s voice was… strained. Oddly so. Merlin purposefully stared at the fire and continued to mop the sweat. “It’s like a furnace in here, Arthur.”

“It’s not that hot,” Arthur protested, but even that was feeble. As Merlin slowly turned to get a read on his face, Arthur practically whipped his head in the opposite direction.

Normally, Merlin made good decisions. (While Gaius wouldn’t agree, Merlin argued that A; he was still alive, and B; Gaius was too, so in the end, his decisions weren’t that bad). However, it was late, and Arthur had been so infuriatingly kind today, and Merlin was so exhausted that any bad ideas were now just mildly entertaining ones.

So he stood up.

“Everything alright, my lord?” Merlin said as neutrally as possible. The fire was now working in his benefit since he could see Arthur’s strawberry-colored face.

“Yes, everything’s fine. You can leave.”

Multiple words that should have been relegated to the back of Merlin’s mind appeared. He decided not to say them in his head. Apparently, his mouth had other opinions.

“I still need to undress you, sire.”

Arthur seemed to choke on air. “I- George can take care of it.”

“He’s probably asleep.”

“I’ll do it myself, then.”

Arthur would never, under pain of death, decide to undress himself unless he physically could not stand being in the same room with Merlin. Normally, it would be because of anger, but Merlin’s suspicion of some other feeling was becoming a full-blown conspiracy.

Merlin was angry. He was being pushed around, pulled into several different jobs, and being told he had a whole destiny in front of him. All in all, it would be nice to take control and make an active decision to do something, something that the stupid dragon hadn’t mentioned or Gaius hadn't forbidden.

This was probably the worst version though. It was such a bad idea. It was a definitively bad idea, right up there with talking to Arthur and living in Uther’s castle.

However, Merlin did really enjoy bad ideas. 

“Look, just stop me if you want to,” Merlin said.

Arthur’s head whipped around. “What are you do-“ he began to say, but Merlin cut him off by firmly pressing his lips against his and pulling Arthur closer by the front of his tunic.

Their teeth clacked together. Merlin felt a thrill race up his spine as Arthur immediately began to kiss back, mouth open and warm. Merlin practically fell into him, and parted for a second just to catch air. Arthur jerked his head back right as that happened.

Arthur’s face was pure astonishment and confusion. Merlin was having trouble concentrating, though. His mouth looked lovely, all red like that. “Merlin- what did you do?”

“I kissed you. I thought you were smart enough to recognize that.”

Arthur squawked in outrage again, and Merlin practically lunged at him. His self-control was so low already. It wasn’t helping how Arthur kept biting his lip whenever they kissed, and had shifted so Merlin was practically on his lap.

Merlin moved down to his neck. Arthur, for some reason, began to speak.

“Shouldn’t- I’m a prince, Merlin, I-“ he cut himself off as Merlin moved to his collarbone. He groaned. “I can’t just gallivant with anyone, it’s-“

Merlin pulled back. “Gallivant?”

Arthur glared. “What do you want me to call it?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he got up and pulled Arthur lightly by the hand. Bizarrely, Arthur followed. “No one will care, Arthur. No one cares what you do with your servant.”

“Right. Right.” Arthur’s eyes were nearly all black, and he began to lean forward. Merlin could have cried with joy before the prat stopped.

“Wait- you aren’t doing this because you’re my servant, are you?"

Merlin was now getting irritated. “Arthur, when have I ever listened to you?” He said exasperatedly as he pushed Arthur onto the edge of the bed.

Arthur frowned. “Well, never, and I’m not trying to stop you, but-“ his face turned to a tomato shade as Merlin began to undo his breeches. “Merlin, what-“

“Shut up, you ass. You want this, right?"

Arthur nodded slightly.

"Then let me work.”

“Wait, what do you mean by w-” Arthur cut himself off with a strangled moan, and if he wasn’t busy, Merlin would have grinned. His mouth was being put to better use, however. 

It had happened once, but Merlin knew it would happen again. Well, he didn’t know, but he certainly hoped. Arthur’s gasps had been like music to his ears. Afterwards, Arthur had stared, muttered something about taxes and burning logs, and ran away. Merlin had taken his cue and retired to his own chambers for the night.

It was morning, and Merlin carefully walked up the steps, not allowing the baked beans to splatter. For once, he had a plan. If Arthur was embarrassed and didn’t want to acknowledge their “gallivant” last night, Merlin was more than willing to ignore it. He’d been pretty good at ignoring Arthur’s attraction, after all, right before that… incident. He’d offer Arthur his breakfast (which Merlin hadn’t stolen any of!) and he’d call it a day.

If Arthur was willing to talk about it. Well. Merlin didn’t really want them to talk insomuch as to put his fingers in Arthur’s mouth again, but he’d make it work.

Merlin pushed open the door. “Wake up, sire, I’ve got bre-“ he stopped.

Normally, when Merlin entered, Arthur was dead asleep. It usually took the force of a bear and the volume of three people shouting to get him up on a typical day. Arthur was, instead, fully awake, and he was even standing up, wearing a loose pair of breeches and no shirt. Merlin’s eyes traced the outline of his hipbones against his pants.

Merlin flushed from head to toe. Arthur’s stare was near predatory. He didn’t know if he was going to be pummeled or shagged. Or, possibly, both. “Are you alright, my lord?”

“Close. The door.”

Merlin did. He barely even had time to set down the breakfast before he felt Arthur’s mouth on his yet again.

“Do you have-“ Arthur hissed, pressing him against the wall, “any idea-“ he began to take off Merlin’s shirt- “how infuriating you are?”

“No, not really, but incredible talk, sire,” Merlin babbled. “If that’s what making you do this, tell me, but-“

Arthur picked him up as if Merlin weighed a feather. It was dizzyingly attractive. “Shut up.”

“Noted.”

Arthur grinned and set him onto the bed. Merlin pulled him down to meet him, delighting in Arthur’s yell as he crashed onto the mattress.

“You do have a meeting in two hours, you know,” Merlin managed to say as Arthur ran a hand up his chest. God, it felt like fire in his veins.

“Can you not listen to a single command I give you, Merlin?” Arthur muttered into his neck.

“Ah. God- not really, no. Besides, do you actually know what you’re doing here?”

That made Arthur pause. “I… I assume it’s similar to what it’s like with women.”

Merlin laughed at that. “I’m afraid it’s not.” He pushed Arthur back a bit and took his hand, unlacing his own trousers. “Just follow my lead.”

It turned out Arthur was a very willing student.

Afterwards, he continued to stare at Merlin as he cleaned. They’d knocked over a table and cup, as it turned out.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Something you want to share?”

“Why did you do that? Last night, I mean.”

Merlin turned and saw a look of genuine curiosity. “I’m not going to say it- you don’t need a bigger ego.”

Arthur’s smile was lazy and wide as he walked over. “You think I’m attractive.”

“Obviously. I don’t like it, though.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, taking Merlin’s chin and kissing him again. Merlin dropped the goblet he’d been placing.

“You are the clumsiest fool I know,” Arthur murmured against his lips. He stepped back. “And because of that, I’m telling you, keep this a secret.”

“I can keep a secret!” Merlin said, affronted.

“Can you?”

“More than you think.” The irony would be hilarious if it wasn’t for the threat of the pyre. Still, it was entertaining to see Arthur scoff.

“Sure.” He turned from dismissive to consideratory. “How did you know I would… react positively?”

It was now Merlin’s turn to scoff. “Oh please, Arthur, you’re not as sly as you think. When I took off my neckerchief, you turned puce.”

Arthur flushed again. “That should be illegal. I shouldn’t have to see your neck.”

“What sort of idiot can’t function when they see another person's neck?” Merlin said incredulously. It was ridiculous, but he did like the attention, much to his dismay. He knew he was attractive in his own way, but that hadn’t always guaranteed affections from others. He was rather scrawny and gangly. To have Arthur at the palm of his hand like that… it was a bit intoxicating.

“Shut up,” Arthur retorted rather intelligently. “But still. Do you just- pounce on people like that?”

Pounce, Merlin mouthed once before answering. “I mean, a few times, yeah. Have you really never had casual sex with someone?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “After the talks my father gave me?”

Merlin shuddered at the thought. Uther had probably told his son thousands of bastard baby horror stories. “Fair enough.”

“This is going to make life far more difficult, you know.”

“What for?” it was hilarious- after having sex with Arthur, Merlin was motivated to actually clean. He must’ve been in a parallel universe.

“Because now I'll just do this-” Arthur pulled Merlin close to him, running his hands through his hair. He was just as turned on as Merlin, it seemed, who could already feel more arousal. “Whenever I want to.”

Merlin swallowed as Arthur began to methodically attack his neck. Did he have a thing for Merlin’s collar bones? “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

And that was that.

Merlin’s job was far more manageable after that. Sure, Arthur was absolutely awful sometimes, but it was harder to remember when his mouth was pressed against Arthur’s or his hand was down Arthur’s pants. 

What didn’t get easier, somehow, was saving his life. It was still constant bandits and pissed off sorcerers, all of whom he had to kill by himself.

There was constant peril, and constant, utter annoyance as Merlin had to continue his work without a friend who understood. Not even Gwen got how difficult it was.

So, it was truly a blessing to meet Lancelot.

“You saved my life…”

“Lancelot,” the man said, and then he winced. “I did what any man would.”

Merlin frowned. Maybe the animal’s talons had caught him. “Could you lift up your shirt for a second?”

Lancelot’s head whipped up, and he began to blush. Merlin filed that information away for later. “I’m- I’m the physician’s apprentice,” he explained. “I can check whatever wound you have.”

Lancelot paused, and then he lifted it to show a deep scratch mark. It was ragged and, frankly, disgusting.

“We’re a five minute walk from my quarters,” Merlin said. “I can get Gaius, the court physician, to check on that wound.”

“That would- hrgh-” Lancelot groaned as he tried to stand up. He ended up almost falling onto Merlin. “Be quite appreciated.”

“Well, you saved my life.” Merlin looped Lancelot’s arm around his neck and started to trudge back to the castle. Lancelot was unconscious by the time they entered the main city.

“Gaius! Can you get some poultice!” He yelled from the hallway. God, Lancelot was a heavy man. Just like Arthur, he was built with too many muscles for Merlin to be able to even keep him upright.

Gaius’ eyebrow climbed up his forehead as Merlin lugged the man into the sickroom. “Merlin, who is this?”

“Er. Lancelot.” Merlin dropped him on his bed with a thunk. “He saved my life today, and he’s been wounded. I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

“And that’s all?”

Merlin looked at the eyebrow, looked back at Lancelot, and his eyes flew wide. “What? Yes, just that!”

Gaius nodded primly and began to take out tools. 

“Wait, how did you know anyways?” Merlin certainly hadn’t talked about his arrangement with Arthur to Gaius, that was for sure.

“Your mother told me,” he said, grabbing a salve. “Just as she told me about your magic.”

“Really?” Sure, him tumbling around with the few other men his age had been frowned upon in the village, but as long as nothing got serious, people didn’t really care.

“Indeed. I'd prefer to know if you started bringing people around, and your mother was kind enough to make sure I wouldn't assume and accidentally walk in.”

That was a completely fair point.

“Now, take that young man to your quarters. He deserves a proper place to rest.”

“And where will I sleep?”

“The sick tourney, I expect.”

Merlin frowned, but did not argue, and he collected everything before heading to Arthur’s room. He was, sadly, still looking incredible as he filled out paperwork, and at any other time, Merlin would take advantage of that. The attack was (probably) more important.

“Arthur, there’s a magical creature, out near the lower towns.”

Arthur’s head snapped up from his desk. For a moment, Merlin was forced to remember that Arthur Pendragon could actually be incredibly clever. It wasn’t often, but when forced into a difficult situation, he could instantly formulate a plan. It was attractive. Unfortunately.

Arthur picked up a sword and started walking to the doors. “How long ago was it spotted?”

“Five, ten minutes. I ran into it-”

He stopped. “Wait, you were the one who spotted it?”

Merlin would’ve thought that was a given. “Er, yes. I was picking herbs for Gaius, and-”

“Are you alright?”

Merlin blinked. That was not an Arthur-like question. That was, definitively, an un Arthur-like question. “I… yes?” It somehow sounded more like a question than an answer. “It didn’t hurt me.”

Arthur’s eyes moved up and down Merlin’s body, completely unreadable. He turned on his heel before Merlin could formulate a response. “Well, that’s a relief, considering your girlish complexion.”

“I am not-” Merlin began, but the creature was (technically) more important. “Look, just make sure the town is alerted. I have a patient to take care of.”

“You do?”

“Lancelot got nicked, and I have to help him.” Merlin turned on his foot, running back. “Be careful!”

Behind him, Merlin almost swore he could hear Arthur mutter, “who the hell is Lancelot?”

Lancelot recovered that night, thankfully, and he immediately started to wistfully gaze at the kingdom the next morning.

“I really doubt you haven’t seen a town square before,” Merlin asked later that morning as he reapplied gauze. 

“Well.” Lancelot flushed again. “It’s just been my life’s dream, to be a knight of Camelot. To see it up close, it looks…”

“Crowded? Filthy? Full of idiots?”

“Beautiful,” Lancelot breathed.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “To each their own, then.”

Lancelot sighed. “I know what you’re thinking- I’m reaching. But to work with such a great army…”

“Lancelot,” Merlin said with a scoff, “I’ve seen some of the knights in action. You could best half of them." Half was an underestimation- turned out that overconfident sons of lords made for awful knights all around. "Hell, you could even best Arthur himself.”

Lancelot blinked. “Truly?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s great at it, but-“ Merlin had watched a number of those matches and found his trousers uncomfortably tight whenever Arthur would expertly flip a man over his knee and point his sword at them. (Competency had always been a thing of his.) But he knew Lancelot's strength and brains were a match, considering the way he'd faced off the griffin. “Well. You’d give him a run for his money.”

Lancelot looked contemplative, yet he slowly grew a smile. “Thank you, Merlin.”

“I mean it.” Merlin shuffled over, resting a a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. He’d hoped there could be– something– but the longer he was around Lancelot, the stronger the feeling of general goodwill was. Merlin became relatively certain he’d do quite a lot for Lancelot, but not necessarily sleeping with him. Everything else was up for grabs.

That was reinforced when he learned of the knight rules. And then after Merlin was able to convince Lancelot to lie.

“It’s not treason,” Merlin found himself reasoning to Lancelot a few hours later as they waited for Gwen to arrive and get his garments measured.

“It’s still lying.” Lancelot stared into his damn soul. “If we’re going to do this, we must be careful.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to this,” Merlin said, slightly surprised, but he covered his tracks. “No, sorry, of course you did— along with being hot and chivalrous, you’re adventurous. I have no clue how you people show up at Camelot.”

Lancelot laughed, and even Merlin had to admit the light pink on his cheeks was quite flattering. “You people?”

Merlin realized, with a start, he’d thought of Arthur when saying that. He didn’t quite know how to feel.

Before he could feel truly betrayed by his awful taste, Gwen entered the room. “I was promised some quality fabric in exchange for this, Merlin, so I do hope that’s ready.”

Merlin sighed. “Yeah, ‘course, Gwen.” He turned back to Lancelot, and he stopped when he saw an awestruck look on the man’s face. It seemed Lancelot was looking at Gwen as if she was a radiant goddess. It did help that the sun from the door was lighting her hair brilliantly.

“Oh. Oh.” Merlin turned back to Lancelot and grinned. “That’s my best mate, Gwen. She’ll be measuring you today.”

Lancelot’s eyes widened– he was probably thinking some indecent thoughts about her hands, judging from his stare. “She- what?”

“Merlin, I do need-“ as Gwen’s eyes fell upon Lancelot, she stopped too. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hello.” Lancelot soulfully gazed at her, eyes dark, and God, Merlin could cut the tension with Arthur’s broadsword.

“I’ll just leave, then, shall I?” He said. He began to scoot out the room. They were too busy mooning over each other to even notice. “Gwen, help outfit my good friend Lancelot. He’s damn good with a sword, and he saved me from an attack, so he’s definitely up for the task of knighthood.”

“You saved Merlin?” Gwen breathed. She started again, rushing over to Lancelot and taking his hands. Merlin suppressed his own grin as Lancelot flushed beetroot red once more. “I must thank you.”

“It was no trouble, my lady,” Lancelot replied. Merlin closed the door behind him before he could hear them attacking each other's tonsils or something equally gross. Seriously, it wasn’t fair two incredibly beautiful people could be instantly that in love, but it seemed the world was unfair in many, many ways.

After the forgery, Merlin set out to the second hardest task; convincing Arthur to give this man the time of day. Normally, this should’ve been easy: Arthur was desperate for morally steadfast men who could swing a sword without collapsing. He seemed to be oddly resistant this time around, shown by how he kept assigning Lancelot to cleaning the stables.

“You seem to like talking about the Lancelot fellow.” Arthur was out on the field, preparing for a practice session with the knights. By “preparing,” that actually meant “getting Merlin to do all the work because Arthur was an absolute prat,” but it was a chance for Merlin to campaign on Lancelot's behalf.

Merlin knew the current assignments were a test of some sort. He just had to sway Arthur, and he’d be able to get Lancelot into the program. It was that easy.

“Well, he’s my friend, and you’re using him to sweep the stables, so yeah, I am. He does want to train under you, you know. Really badly.” Normally, this assuaging of Arthur’s ego would work hook, line, and sinker, but he was being oddly resistant today.

Arthur scoffed. “His enthusiasm doesn’t determine him as a knight. He must have strong will-“

“He does.”

“-a sense of chivalry-“

“He’s more chivalrous than Kay, that’s for certain.”

Arthur glared at Merlin. There was an odd amount of venom. “So Lancelot is perfect, then?”

“I mean, well, no,” Merlin sputtered, “but he’s more than capable. And, again, cannot emphasize this enough, he actually wants to be here. I don’t get it, personally, but-“

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Of course he does. We’re the best army in the five kingdoms. We'd train him to be a perfect fighter.”

“He’s already an incredible one, you know,” Merlin said, dumping the training swords into a pile. "Fighter, I mean."

“Is he?” Arthur glared. “Really? I’m better. I knocked him down before.”

“You absolute ass.” Merlin thought about actually sorting the wooden poles, but he gave up after a moment’s consideration. They were just fancy sticks in the end. “He’s better than all your idiot knights combined, and the least you could do is consider him. It’s his life’s dream to work for you, you know.”

“Not to stay near you?” Arthur said snidely. He kicked at the grass.

“What?” Merlin said, astonished. “No! I haven’t- do you think I’ve blackmailed him? He’s here because you have the best damn army, and you’re a great leader, and-“

Arthur froze. He turned his head to Merlin, moving away from the grass mound he’d elaborately constructed with his erratic kicking. “You still think I’m good at sword fighting.”

Merlin flushed. He hadn’t meant to reveal that. “I mean. Unfortunately, you are competent at some things, I have no idea how or why. How is that what you’re focusing on?” He shook his head. “Look, Lancelot's my friend, and Gwen’s my friend, so-“

Arthur frowned. “What does Gwen have to do with this?”

“Oh.” Merlin realized that, as it often did, his mouth had run off without him thinking. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you.”

“Well, you basically already have,” Arthur said, “what with you turning as pink as a girl’s dress. You’ve said she doesn’t fancy you-“

“And she doesn’t.”

“-so she has to fancy Lancelot,” Arthur finished smugly. “That’s why you care! You want your friends to be happy.”

Merlin stared at him. He stared a bit harder when Arthur just continued to grin like a buffoon. “I’ve already told you that three separate times. Yes, this is so my friends are happy. Unlike you, I don’t bribe or threaten people into friendship.”

“Oh, please, Merlin,” Arthur said with a wave of his hand, but he seemed oddly overjoyed. “You say so much drivel I can hardly listen to it all. Now, bring Lancelot to me, and I’ll test him out.”

Merlin felt all his worry leave his body with his exhale. He was still faking Lancelot’s identity—yet another crime to add to his weighty list—but at least he had a shot. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“You can thank me if I let him in,” Arthur rebutted. He began to draw out practice poles. “I haven’t tested him yet.”

“Yeah, but he’ll pass.”

Arthur snorted. “Merlin, you don't know the intricacies of training to be a knight. It’s not all waving swords around and good manners.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you use manners, so I knew that,” Merlin said on instinct, flinching when Arthur flicked his head. 

“Ass.” Much to Merlin’s confusion, Arthur sounded a bit fond. “Why are you so certain anyhow?”

“I mean, he saved me from the wild beast attack.” Merlin shrugged. He could feel Arthur freeze, but he had absolutely no clue why. Maybe he’d found a fault with Merlin’s pole safekeeping (maybe a few had broken when he’d tossed them into the pile. It was fine.) “that shows that he’s a damn good fighter and can do the chivalry stuff you supposedly do.”

Arthur still hadn’t moved. He was staring at the mound of grass he’d kicked up as if it’d personally offended him. “I thought you told me you were fine.”

“Yeah, because Lancelot was there,” Merlin said slowly. “That’s why I was able to rush and get you.”

“So. He saved you, then?” Arthur grit out. He grabbed, bizarrely enough, a sword. Maybe he needed to sharpen it.

“I mean, sure? I did save him too, though. He got sliced by the animal, so I patched him up.” Merlin was quite proud of that.

Arthur paused. He put the sword away. It had looked awfully sharp; he’d probably seen it didn’t need any sharpening. “You know, if I’d been there, the animal wouldn’t have scratched me.”

Merlin snorted. “Sure, sire— we all know you’re secretly made of steel and can’t be felled by any real beasts. You also have the ability to make maidens faint and swoon.”

Arthur scowled at him. Merlin just grinned.

“I’ll be heading off to help Gaius. Do you need me to set up anything for you to practice with Lancelot?”

Arthur opened his mouth, but he quickly closed it again. “No, actually. Just bring him here as soon as possible.”

Merlin shrugged. It was an odd turn of events, but Merlin wouldn’t stop Arthur from doing what Merlin wanted. “Course. Give me just a moment.”

Lancelot had already had quite a strange day. The monster, along with Merlin and Gwen, had been enough to throw him off. Meeting Prince Arthur again was… a lot, even in theory. 

It was certainly a lot now.

“So. Lancelot.” 

He must’ve committed some additional crime for Arthur to be staring such daggers into him. “Yes, your majesty?” 

“Merlin tells me you saved him from an attack.”

Lancelot blinked. He’d rather thought trying out for the knights would involve interesting duels and pledges of loyalty, not… this. “Er. I did, sire.”

“I do thank you for that,” Arthur said after a moment. “If you tell Merlin, I’ll exile you, but I’m really quite glad he’s alive.”

“He…” Lancelot looked Arthur up and down, a person about his own age, and a guy who’s eyes had softened just slightly at the mention of Merlin. This would explain some things. “He’s spoken very highly of you.”

Arthur’s head snapped up. “He has?”

Lancelot had definitely been right, goodness. “Well, he’s been finding a way to do this the last day that works best for you, and he’s mentioned how much he’s worked around your schedule. That testifies to his care.”

“Indeed it does.” Arthur began to smile, a bright, wide thing that was oddly charming. “I apologize, Lancelot, if I seem a bit reserved. Here at Camelot, we rarely welcome outsiders, even if they are nobles, and- to hear you had Merlin’s life in your hands? It worried me.”

Maybe Lancelot should’ve started a tally of how many times Arthur would mention Merlin. “Of course.”

“The key part of being a knight is…” Arthur sighed, staring at the ground. He rolled his eyes and cracked his back. “Oh, sod it, you’ve probably heard the knight speech a dozen times already.”

Lancelot hadn’t, but he had a feeling he would’ve as a noble, so he just nodded.

“What I actually need to know is this.” Arthur raised a sword to point at Lancelot. “Why did you save Merlin?”

Lancelot blinked. “Because he needed help,” he said slowly. “Because it would be horrible to let an innocent person be hurt.”

“Correct answer.” Arthur nodded. “Question two— what’s the most important part of combat?”

“Oh.” That hadn’t been something Lancelot had expected. “To win a battle, I usually rely on good form, but you did mention instinct and reaction.”

Arthur smiled a bit– a confident, small thing in the corner of his mouth. “Good memory.”  Arthur threw him a sword. “Are you ready to spar?”

For the first time in a while, Lancelot finally felt himself on his ground. He smiled. “Of course, sire.”

After Lancelot was kicked out for identity fraud, the griffon was banished, and Merlin lost the one friend who knew he had magic, Arthur drew Merlin to the side.

“You knew he wasn’t a noble.” It wasn’t even close to a question.

Merlin nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“Christ, and that was why you were so determined I’d let him in,” Arthur said, pinching his nose. “Fine. Right. Don’t pull this on me again, you hear?”

“Yeah, because you clearly suffered so greatly,” Merlin said sarcastically.

“Merlin.” For once, Arthur's acidic tone carried some weight. Merlin shut up. “My father already finds it difficult to portion his responsibilities to me. After this, he may be more hesitant.”

Merlin bit the inside of his lip. He could read between the lines of what Arthur was implying. “Right, sorry, I just… I wanted to do him a good turn.”

Something inscrutable passed over Arthur’s face. “Of course you did,” Arthur murmured. “You… you are truly something, Merlin.”

If Merlin didn’t know better, he would’ve said a tone close to affection had creeped into Arthur’s voice. He did know better, though, so he instead meekly said, “A good something?”

“Truly something.” Arthur sighed. “Clean up my chambers for me.”

For once, he didn’t argue— Merlin scurried away. And, when Arthur entered the room and pressed him against the wall, Merlin found himself more than willing to indulge. It was easier to stick him fingers in Arthur than to talk to him by far.

“Is Gwen going to be alright?” Arthur asked the next morning as he signed paperwork on his desk.

Merlin sighed. “I think so. I mean, they’d only known each other for a bit- it’s not like they were in love. But it’ll still hurt.”

“Yes.” Arthur’s eyes flickered towards Merlin. “Yes, I think it might.” 

Things continued to get… more charged. Merlin hadn’t wanted Arthur to die before, not even early into his time as a manservant, but even the thought of Arthur getting hurt now caused a deep-seated nausea in his gut. It was concerning. More than that, it seemed other people were noticing, if the discreet side-eyes from Gwen said anything.

Then there was the problem of Morgana. Merlin wanted to tell her about his magic— he really, really wanted to, but Gaius kept on insisting otherwise. Merlin tried to listen to Gaius (honest!) but what Gaius had said hadn't really hit him until he'd mentioned Arthur.

"And not one word of this to Arthur," Gaius said as he continued to prepare his sleeping cocktail for Morgana.

Merlin stilled. He hadn't been planning on telling Arthur, but just the mention of him brought up a whole slew of questions. How much longer did Merlin need to continue to hide himself from Arthur? How could Merlin tell Morgana about his magic first in all good conscience? What did it mean that he found his gut churning at the idea of someone knowing if it wasn't Arthur?

These were all questions Merlin was determined not to answer, so he found himself trying to focus on just cheering up Morgana instead, much to Gaius' relief. If he'd known Merlin wanted to also maybe encourage her to practice magic in her free time in order to relieve some stress, he'd probably be pissed, but no one needed to know that.

He understood Gaius' stalwart arguments. Really, he did— Gaius couldn’t have a person die because he’d failed, but Merlin was an adult. More importantly, he was already shouldering the burden of this entire bloody kingdom, so he’d do what he’d like. Or, he would've, but it was difficult since Arthur was interrogating him as he headed to Morgana's room.

“Merlin.” Arthur frowned at him. “I do need you to…” he blinked. “Are you alright?”

Merlin felt a bit stressed, but he knew his plan was foolproof. Well, mostly foolproof, and usually his plans were guaranteed disasters, so he’d take what he could get. “Never better. I was just-“

“What’s that behind your back?” Arthur interrupted. 

Merlin stilled. He had planned on holding a bouquet of flowers for Morgana, but the vendor down in the market had told him “he won’t like flowers, love," before he could say who they were for. As a steadfast believer of denial, Merlin wasn’t going to look into the implications of people knowing he was sleeping with Arthur. He’d gotten some herbs and a vial of oil to burn for a good scent instead. It’s not as if the room could almost burn down a second time.

“Well, it’s…” at least this was easy to explain. Merlin decided to modify the truth a bit. “It’s for Morgana, actually.” He held out his hands to show the oil vial.

Merlin had gotten quite good at reading Arthur’s expressions over the last year and a half, and the most important part was knowing when he’d pushed too much. Arthur’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the oil, and it seemed he was… discontent? Upset? Annoyed, at the very least.

“What is this,” he said flatly.

“I heard from Gaius she’d had some trouble falling asleep, and I mean- she’s my friend, and Gwen cares about her, so I thought I’d help,” Merlin rambled. This was ridiculous. Why’d he feel the need to justify this to Arthur? He could do what he liked, give gifts to people as he pleased, but Arthur was visibly relaxing as Merlin gave more and more excuses and Merlin, for some reason, didn’t want Arthur to mistake his intent.

“She…” Arthur visibly chewed on his lip. “Morgana is quite important to Uther, Merlin. This is- I approve of this.”

Morgana matters to me, Merlin heard between the lines. He nodded. “Course, sire. What did you need me to do afterwards?”

“I’ll tell you when you come back to my chambers,” Arthur said with a wave of his hand. He clapped Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin could see the consideration. Arthur let it rest for just a second, and then he punched Merlin’s arm.

“Don’t be too slow coming back, as you usually are,” he called out.

Merlin chuckled. One day, Arthur wouldn’t feel the only way to show friendly affection was punching someone. “Course, sire.”

The gift didn’t work to push Merlin into revealing the truth, unfortunately— Morgana was asleep, and he would not wake her—so Merlin had to return to Arthur’s rooms.

"Learning to be timely, then." Arthur was at his desk, and he was wearing a shirt that shows off his chest. Merlin's eyes got caught in the v-neck.

"Morgana was asleep, so I left the stuff with Gwen." Merlin ambled over to a corner with some items he could actually take care of, and he hid a grin as he felt Arthur's gaze like a hawk.

"Are you actually planning on doing your job right now?"

"I know. Wonders never cease, sire." Merlin shot a grin at Arthur.

Arthur huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes, but he also shifted in his seat a bit. "Now?"

Merlin blinked. "Something else you think I should do?"

Arthur stared at him.

"Well." Merlin felt a bit giddy. "If you'd rather me abandon my tasks then-"

Arthur has already begun striding towards him. "Shut up, Merlin."

"Yeah, I know the drill." Merlin pulled Arthur in close before he could complain more. Arthur was warm to the touch, probably having spent most of the day training and then walking the castle. It was a delirious shock to Merlin's system.

"Stupid, stupid shirt," Merlin grumbled, placing a hand where the neck of the shirt parted, indecently low on Arthur's chest. Arthur laughed a bit.

"You have no right to say that when you're just- standing there." Arthur pushed Merlin against a wall, and Merlin felt more arousal shoot through his spine.

"That's what does it for you?"

Arthur swatted his head with a free hand. His other hand was busy clutching at Merlin's ass. "Be quiet. You devoured on me two days ago because I was writing-"

"I do not devour," Merlin said, affronted. It got a bit caught off with his embarrassingly loud gasp.

"Yes," Arthur nipped at his neck, "you do. Insatiable."

"Pot, kettle."

Arthur laughed again. Merlin couldn't help laughing a bit as well.

They stayed at the wall a bit, and Merlin felt far more contented than he ever would've thought with Arthur's in his arms and him in Arthur's (well, Arthur's arm. His other hand was skimming his trousers now). Maybe, there was something concerning in how easy this came to them, how quickly and inextricably they could be bound and understand each other's boundaries and wants.

Merlin wasn't going to think about that, though; he was too busy telling Arthur that he should bend over his desk so Merlin could fuck him.

"My paperwork will fly everywhere," Arthur protested, but he was eyeing it.

"I'll pick it up."

"Merlin." Arthur was trying to level him with a look, but it was undercut by how he was panting heavily and continually looking down at Merlin's lips.

"I will!" Merlin protested.

"Fine." When Arthur said fine, though, he immediately began to pull Merlin to that direction and begin nearly ripping their clothes off, so Merlin supposed it was more than fine in his end. Merlin found himself bending Arthur over a table, and it was absolutely fantastic.

(Merlin was seriously glad he'd learned how to conjure certain items early on in their relationship. Gaius would've caught on if certain types of oil had disappeared more from his stocks.)

And it was so, so nice to have Arthur make those noises, to feel Arthur's hair in his hands, to then be able to pull him in close to kiss him and then part, Arthur smiling a bit like a loon, Merlin smiling a bit insanely too. It was nice enough that he forgot about the issue of magic for a while.

He debated about not going to see Morgana again. He probably could've continued with life, ignoring her suffering, pretending that she didn't have magic like Gaius seemed to think was best. But even if Merlin wasn't having trouble convincing himself he could talk about his own magic, he knew he was one of the few people in the world right now that was willing to help Morgana, even if it was just by being a sympathetic ear.

He'd always underestimated her, though, because she immediately went past her fear and just said it.

“I have magic.”

Gods. 

For just a singular moment, Merlin contemplated actually revealing his own magic. It would’ve been… nice. It would’ve been nice to have someone he could talk to about this. Someone who would be able to understand just how stressful it was to exist like this day by day.

He couldn’t, though. If he told Morgana- well. If he told Morgana, he would want to tell Arthur. If he told Morgana, she’d know before Arthur, and that- that felt like a betrayal of some sort. It made him nauseous to think of not having Arthur be the first person he truly confessed to.

“I…” Merlin swallowed past the pit of nausea in his stomach. “I really wish there was something I could say.”

She had every right to be mad at him; Merlin knew that. But he couldn’t- he just couldn’t. He couldn’t betray Gaius like that, and it’d hurt Arthur in the future. Or, it wouldn’t, and that was almost worse, because the idea of Arthur never knowing made him want to throw up.

So Merlin threw caution into the wind (his favorite pastime), figured out where the Druids were, and brought Morgana there. He had underestimated Uther’s devotion, though, and now he was trying to convince a Morgana who looked healthier then she’d been in months to return to the oppressive castle.

“I can’t go back,” Morgana said tearfully. “I just- I can’t.”

Merlin worried his lip. “I…”

“MERLIN!”

He turned around, and, bizarrely enough, Arthur was there, and it was Arthur without anyone else.

“Ar-“

Merlin was cut off as Arthur nearly fell in front of him from his sudden stop. He'd been all but sprinting towards Merlin, and it seemed he was holding himself back from a hug.

“I- I thought-“ Arthur looked at him. His face was inscrutable, but even Merlin could see a hint of relief there. “I thought you’d been taken too!”

“Taken?” Morgana repeated.

Arthur’s eyes, which had been roaming Merlin up and down, turned to Morgana. He stepped back from Merlin slightly. “Oh, you’re safe. Father’s been worried sick.”

“I haven’t been taken,” Morgana said stonily. “I wasn’t kidnapped.”

Arthur blinked. He truly was confused, and Merlin felt just a bit of pity from him. “Then why did you leave the castle?”

Morgana’s mouth dropped a bit—she clearly couldn’t think of an excuse—but Merlin was quicker. He stepped a bit towards Arthur. “Do… do you remember Mordred?”

Arthur’s face just screwed up in confusion a bit more. “I- I do. What does that have to do with anything?”

“She heard he was here, and Morgana wanted to visit.”

“Then don’t flee into the night,” Arthur said hwith a scoff. Morgana threw Merlin a glare— good job lying, idiot, the glare said. Merlin glared back— I had to say something, didn’t I? “Father thinks the Druids have kidnapped you, and I’m supposed to-“

“Kill them all?” Morgana stepped forward. “And you’re going to, are you? Just do what Uther says, and-“

“Of course not!” Arthur turned around, checking his vicinity, and he stepped closer to Morgana and Merlin. “Sending a band of knights to search for you and commit a massacre would be a sure way to get you and Merlin hurt. I left to try and figure out where you were, and then plan from there.”

Some warmth sparked in Merlin’s chest. Arthur’s father was a tyrant, a bad parent in general, incapable of any form of empathy towards regular civilians, yet here Arthur was. Because of Arthur’s innate goodness, this whole Druid camp could be spared.

Morgana deflated. Her eyes flicked towards Merlin, and her eyebrows creased a bit, but whatever she was thinking didn’t seem to be her priority. She turned back to Arthur. “None of these people deserve to die. They didn’t capture Merlin or I. I went, willingly.”

Arthur’s jaw muscle ticked, but he nodded slowly. “Alright. I can- I might be able to figure out a way to spare them.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.”

Arthur and Morgana jumped back, and Merlin did a second later. He’d known Aglain was there the whole time, but he didn’t need to draw attention towards the Druids.

Arthur’s hand, which held a sword, slowly put it back in its sheath. “You’re the leader of the Druids, then.”

“This encampment.” The Druid bowed; Merlin didn’t miss how it was angled slightly so it could conceivably be towards Merlin as well. “Welcome, once and future king. I am Aglain.”

“I’m too busy to ask what that title’s about,” Arthur stated. “Aglain, I might be able to spare your people from my father’s wrath, but I need you to swear you’ll never enter Camelot’s grounds again.”

Aglain paused. “I can swear, on Emrys, that I shall never enter Camelot unless invited.”

Merlin swallowed. He really didn’t like this Emrys thing.

“That- that works, I guess.” Arthur ran a hand through his hand. “Who the hell is Emrys?”

Before Aglain could say something like, “Oh, he’s a skinny manservant that has a thing for neckerchiefs and your hands,” Merlin interrupted. “Not that important right now, yeah? What’s your plan for them, Arthur?”

“Yes, right.” Arthur paused again to look at Merlin. It was an uncomfortably long pause, one where Merlin was aware that Arthur was within arm’s length, and it seemed Arthur was aware of that distance as well, but neither of them could do anything about it.

Morgana let out a cough.

“We’ll need some spare clothes and a good amount of rope,” Arthur announced as he stepped away from Merlin. “Along with someone who is willing to take some blood, and a spare piece of cloth from the Druids.”

"They escaped?” Uther said sharply.

To Arthur’s credit, his head stayed bowed. He barely flinched. “They did. By the time we’d found the camp, it was completely empty. We burnt down what remained, but it was no use.”

Uther’s mouth turned to a sneer as he looked at the burnt and bloodied cape in Arthur’s hand. “And Morgana?”

“Right here,” Merlin announced, walking in with her. This was partially his idea— he had made sure to mention to Arthur that “the king likes a show.” Arthur’s face had turned bitter, but he’d nodded once.

If Merlin was a kinder person, he’d appreciate the sheer relief on Uther’s face. He seemed genuinely relieved to have Morgana back. Instead, he only appreciated it when Arthur’s face softened at the sight of his father smiling.

“Morgana!” Bloody hell, no wonder Arthur was repressed if the most energetic reaction to the stealing of the king's ward was Uther just excitedly announcing her name. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, my lord.” Morgana bowed. Merlin suspected it was to hide the hatred in her eyes. He knew what it felt like, to bow to the man who condemned you. It hurt. “They left me once they heard that the knights were going to slaughter them.”

“Oh, Morgana.” Uther finally got up, approaching Morgana, and to Merlin’s surprise, touched her shoulder. Morgana shuddered a bit; Arthur’s face grew a bit more injured. Merlin doubted Uther had ever done that for his son. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Morgana choked out. It was lucky that Uther probably chalked it up to her being captured. “I’m quite fine.”

Uther turned to Arthur. His face was softer. “You did well, Arthur. I will admit, I wish we could have taken the Druid encampment as well, but… Morgana is safe.”

Arthur nodded once. It was a short, brisk thing, and Merlin felt his heart seize in sympathy.

Uther waved a hand, clearly excusing Arthur, and he stared tearfully at Morgana. The hatred in Morgana seemed to have migrated to her hands- they were clenched into fists.

They walked back to Arthur’s room in silence. Only when the door was closed did Arthur speak up.

“Why did she actually visit that encampment?”

Merlin froze. “I… I told you, sire.”

“No, you didn’t, Merlin.” Merlin hadn’t turned around, but he could hear Arthur approaching. “And do you know how I know why? Because you just called me sire that way.”

Merlin swallowed. He turned around, his body only an inch or so away firm Arthur’s. “I- I don’t think you want to know, Arthur,” he murmured.

Arthur’s gaze was impenetrable for once. “Why not?”

“She barely told me, for one.” Merlin felt around for another lie—it was to meet with a lover, it was a secret way to take down the Druids—but he found the truth instead. “It’d also hurt you.”

“How?”

“Your father…” Merlin sighed. “It’d look quite bad for the king.”

All of Arthur’s probing curiosity dropped into weariness. “Truly? It’s- it’s about Uther?”

“Yeah.”

Arthur sagged onto his bed. It was like a puppet’s strings being cut. “I…”

Merlin sat next to him, feeling the bed crease underneath him, and he tentatively laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur shivered; he leaned into it.

“I wish… I wish my father knew how little I know his mind.” Arthur swallowed. “I don’t think I understand him most of the time. And the times I do, I wish I didn’t.”

“Arthur…” how was Merlin supposed to comfort him? Arthur rarely expressed true vulnerability, and this was difficult for anyone. “I know your father cares about you,” Merlin finally settled on. “No matter how he expresses it, he does.”

“Hm.” The side of Arthur’s face tucked up in the mimicry of a smile. “I doubt he cares for Camelot, though.”

Merlin was silent. He didn’t need to add another lie to his already long list.

“How did you know I was with Morgana?” He asked instead. Merlin didn’t miss how Arthur relaxed a bit- probably because he didn’t have to think about his father anymore.

“Gaius said you were ill, too distraught over Morgana to function,” Arthur said, sitting up, stretching his back. “You two are close, but not that close. Right?”

Merlin rapidly shook his head. Arthur’s smile grew a bit more real.

“So, that meant you were almost certainly searching for her.”

“Wh- why?”

Arthur eyed him. “Merlin, do I have to count the amount of times you’ve followed after me during a deadly fight? Or gone on an adventure to just help Gwen?”

Merlin flushed. While Arthur was wrong about why he’d followed Morgana, he certainly had a point about Merlin’s instincts.

“Exactly.” Arthur was undeniably smug, but Merlin would take it over miserable. “So I went to find you.”

Merlin smirked a bit. “And Morgana, of course.”

“Er- yes.” Arthur flushed a bit. “Also Morgana.”

“Well, everyone was alright in the end,” Merlin said, “and it’s been a long day, so I'm going to suggest you get ready for bed.”

“Bath first,” Arthur said, grunting as he stood up. “There should be enough warm water left.”

Merlin became a bit dizzy as he remembered what he’d done to Arthur last time he’d bathed. And the time before that. Arthur was getting ready undressed quite quickly, so Merlin suspected there was a chance for another round. “Yeah, I’ll get some.”

Well. Merlin would never be able to have a royal bath himself, but he could ogle Arthur during one and make him gasp, so it worked out in the end. It helped that Arthur had then pulled him in for a moment, and Arthur had ogled him as Merlin had changed into a spare pair of clothes he'd taken to keeping in Arthur's drawers.

(They weren't very cautious, unfortunately for Merlin's clothes. They tended to be doing things like cleaning or working and then Merlin would jump Arthur or Arthur would grab at Merlin and things would- they'd spiral. Merlin wasn't complaining, though. He was doing whatever the opposite of complaining was.)

Merlin had thought he might've been able to go to bed with a great mood, even though the day had been shit. That turned out impossible when Morgana hid in Merlin's private chambers.

“I’m not blind, you know,” Morgana said. Merlin jumped; how had she silently slipped into his room before he'd gotten there? He liked to tease Gaius for being as blind as a bat, but even this was a record. “I saw you and Arthur.”

For a moment, Merlin had gotten worried she had noticed his magic, but no, it was something almost more personal. “I mean, yes, we were both there. Congratulations on noticing.”

Her glare was sharp enough to slice stone. “How long have you two-“

“Nope!” Merlin turned away from her. “Absolutely not, I’m not talking about this.”

“Then I’ll ask Arthur.”

Shit. Merlin sighed. He let his head thunk against the wall. “We’re not actually anything, you know. I’m just his manservant.”

“But?”

“…I’ve been sleeping with him for the last 5 seasons,” Merlin admitted. The one secret he hadn’t minded keeping: that was the one he was pressured to share. The absolute irony of it all.

“Five seasons,” Morgana repeated flatly.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “We started in summer. It’s just continued since then.”

“Five.”

“I already told you that twice,” Merlin muttered. He turned back to her. She looked less dumbstruck and more judgmental. “It’s not that big a deal. Arthur could bed his entire castle staff, and no one would be allowed to care.”

“But it’s Arthur. And- you’re doing this? With him?” She wrinkled her nose. “And, what’s more, you like it.”

“I am not talking to you about my sex life.”

“But it’s not just sex,” Morgana said. She leaned a bit closer, and there was a glint in her eye: less mischievous, more cutting. “You’d do anything for him.”

Merlin could’ve been shot by an arrow and it would’ve hurt less than Morgana plainly stating something he’d just started to reckon with. “I said, I’m not talking about it,” Merlin gritted through his teeth.

“Why help me leave, then? You had to know it’d hurt him.”

“Because…” Merlin paused. Because I have magic and, if he forgave you for leaving him for that, maybe he could understand why I hadn’t told him for nearly 2 years. “Because you’re my friend too. Besides, if you hadn’t at least tried to leave and learn about magic, you would’ve just grown to resent Uther more, and that’d be worse.”

Morgana’s face hardened at the mention of Uther. “I hate him.”

“He’s…” Merlin didn’t know what to say. “He’s still Arthur’s dad.”

Morgana sighed, but she stepped near the door. Merlin let out an inward sigh of relief. He liked Morgana—truly, he did—but being interrogated by her was… a lot. A lot a lot.

“You’re only bedding each other? That’s it?”

Well, it is more than that, but that’s because we’re two sides of the same coin. I’m destined to keep him alive, so of course it’s more for me, but that’s it. Arthur doesn’t know.

“Nothing more,” he reassured.

Morgana’s raised eyebrows told him how much she believed that, but she left the room anyways. Merlin just sat in the bed and fell asleep. He dreamed of Arthur's hands, and when he awoke, he had to remind himself of all the awful things Uther could do to stop him from spending the night in Arthur’s arms.

So. Merlin was completely normal about Arthur, except for the fact that he clearly wasn't just sleeping with him.

Absolutely infuriating. He'd found himself daydreaming about Arthur sometimes, the two of them just hanging out. That wasn't supposed to happen! Merlin was supposed to make fun of Arthur and be mean to him and then have really good sex, but that was all. Now it was… a bit more.

Just a bit, though. They were friends. That was the extent of the problem. They were close friends, and that was why Merlin was allowed to be so frightened by Morgause.

This was for a number of reasons. Firstly, Arthur was a good fighter, but he’d go easy on a woman because he was Arthur. Merlin had grown up with just a mother— he knew a woman’s strength was the same to be feared as a man’s. Arthur did not.

Merlin wished he was surprised when Morgause won. Well, he was a bit surprised, considering Arthur had given his all at the end, but she was good. She was really, really good, and Merlin hissed as Morgause put her sword to Arthur’s throat.

For a bizarre moment, Merlin thought about using his magic to turn the match. Ridiculous, of course— Uther would notice and search the crowd. She also seemed to hesitating, so it wasn’t a matter of safety. Merlin still wanted to do it, though, and it was because he couldn’t stop seeing Arthur's head cleanly sliced off.

“Meet me in three days,” Morgause said, and a chill settled in Merlin’s bones. She knew something. He felt it.

“It could’ve been worse,” he said later that day, removing Arthur's armor.

Arthur scowled. He was sulking, probably because his military instinct and fighting abilities were something he’d worked hard for. He took pride in many things, but swordfighting was one of the few Arthur knew he’d excelled at because of him being Arthur, not because he was a Pendragon.

“How, exactly, could that have gone worse?” Arthur said with a gesture. Merlin didn’t place his hand on Arthur’s cheek, but it was a near thing.

“I mean.” Merlin shrugged. “You could have died.”

“That would’ve been better,” Arthur groused, and Merlin had had enough of those thoughts, thank you very much, so he whacked the back of Arthur’s head.

“Ow!” Arthur turned. “What was that for?”

“Your father would’ve thrown a fit if you’d died,” Merlin said sharply. “Don’t you dare talk about your life that way.”

Arthur blinked a few times, furrowing his eyebrows. Something like a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t want me to die.”

“Of course I don’t want you to die, you prat,” Merlin said, looking up so Arthur wouldn’t see the genuine nature of the sentence in his eyes. “Worked too hard for that armor. It was good to see you bested, though.”

“I wasn’t bested. I held back because she was a woman.”

Merlin snorted. “Hm.” He took off another metal vambrace.

“What do you mean, hm?” Arthur insisted.

“Oh, absolutely nothing, sire,” Merlin replied, carefully avoiding Arthur’s angry gaze. If he made eye contact, he’d probably break into a fit of laughter. Arthur was so bad at accepting defeat.

“No, no. I want to hear what you said.” Arthur then did the silliest thing; he used his hand to raise Merlin’s face.

Merlin stilled. He felt the callouses in Arthur’s hand, only developed from hours upon hours of training. Difficult training, the ones that had made the back muscles Merlin was now well acquainted with. Like the absolute nuisance he was, Arthur still smelled good, and he looked even better, all mussed and sweaty and vibrantly alive. Merlin felt each point of contact like a spark.

Merlin swallowed. To his satisfaction, he wasn’t the only one realizing how intimate the moment was: Arthur had also frozen, and his eyes had stuck on Merlin’s throat.

“You- you said something odd,” Arthur muttered after a second. His voice was rough, and his mouth was slightly parted.

Merlin looked around, stepping slightly closer. He felt Arthur maneuver so his hand was still on Merlin’s chin and throat, keeping their eyes locked together. Thankfully, they were in a tent, which meant Merlin could give Arthur some payback.

“Pretty hard to remember now though, yeah?” Merlin said, raising an eyebrow. Carefully, he craned his neck, knowing it’d show a bit of his throat. From the way Arthur’s mouth watered, it did.

Arthur scowled. He stepped back, and Merlin did feel some vindication. Unfortunately, he mostly just wanted Arthur’s hand on his face again, but he was going to steadfastly ignore that. “That’s not fair.”

“Who said life was fair?” Merlin replied, turning around to dump the rest of the metal into the pile. “Really, Arthur I knew you were a sore loser, but-“

He was interrupted as Arthur’s hand crept up on his waist. Merlin stilled, but he slowly turned to face Arthur, who was now smirking and being generally a nuisance. Merlin had to remind himself this was nuisance behavior as Arthur moved his hand to his shoulder.

“What were you saying?” Arthur murmured. His face was perhaps only a centimeter away.

Merlin huffed a laugh. “You ass.”

“Hm.” Arthur’s smirk grew, and really, the only answer was meeting his face and-

“ARTHUR!”

Merlin and Arthur jumped back. Arthur's face was as dark as a plum. Merlin searched for something to grasp as a shield; he clutched a vambrace to his chest, hoping his bewildered face wasn’t too revealing.

Uther stood at the other end of the tent, right next to Gaius. The expressions on their faces showed such a united disgust that Merlin felt ashamed. Maybe he should've revealed his magic right at that moment, just to replace the awkwardness with literally anything else.

"Arthur,” Uther said through gritted teeth, “I suggest you be more aware of your surroundings. And you. Merlin.”

Merlin swallowed. He was vividly remembering when Uther had asked if he had a mental affliction. “Yes, my lord?”

Uther looked between the two of them. “Make sure my son is aware of where he is.”

He stalked out, sighing deeply and sharing yet another glance with Gaius. Arthur had now turned a pale white. Gaius then ambled over and lightly smacked his head.

“Ow!”

“Serves you right,” Gaius said. He walked over to Merlin and did the same.

“Yeah, I expected that,” Merlin muttered.

“Arthur, I know you are not educated in keeping secrets from your father, which is, I hope, why you’ve been so open about this,” Gaius said primly.

Arthur’s head swiveled around, desperately searching for some exit. They were stranded. “I- why isn’t Merlin being told off?”

“Because Merlin wasn’t the one who convinced you to convalesce in a closet,” Gaius said. Merlin choked on air. He’d told Arthur it was too close to the throne room, that they’d be caught, but then Arthur had looked at him with some pleading in his eyes and- well. Merlin wasn’t very good at saying no.

The most potent expression of misery was on Arthur’s face. Merlin, in contrast, was having the time of his life now that he knew he could blame Arthur. “I told you so,” he whispered to Arthur. Arthur cuffed the back of his head again.

“His majesty had decided to look on the bright side of this arrangement.” Gaius sighed deeply. “Since Merlin is my ward, and he is not a woman, there is no worry of siring bastards and he trusts me to keep Merlin in control. However, this must be kept more secret. Do you understand?”

“Er.” Arthur swallowed nervously. “Yes, I do, Gaius.”

“Good. And Merlin?”

“Yeah?” He squeaked. He glared at Arthur while the prat laughed.

“At least have some caution.” With that, Gaius closed the flap to the tent opening.

“Well.” Merlin stared at the spot. He’d really thought he was about to be executing for buggering the prince. “That certainly could’ve gone worse.”

Arthur’s responding shoulder punch and scoff told him all he needed to know.

Merlin really, really didn’t get this whole “honor-bound” thing, and it became more and more apparent as they traveled to find Morgause. He didn’t give a damn about honor if it kept Arthur alive. (Merlin was going to ignore that, in a broader sense, he didn't care about any morals if it kept Arthur alive.)

Talking to Arthur about his parents was… unexpected. He’d known a bit about Arthur’s mother—he’d been in Camelot for over 2 years now, after all—but it was different to hear from Arthur himself.

“I think it hurts him too much,” Arthur murmured, talking about his father’s secrecy. Him and Merlin were sitting next to each other by a fire, trying to keep warm during the night. Their legs brushed with every slight shift. “To talk about my mother.”

“Then he must've loved her." Uther in love was such a bizarre proposition that Merlin said this a bit confusedly.

“I…” Arthur sighed. “I know part of his magic hatred is because of her. He’ll reference her sometimes, saying her life could’ve been spared if he'd always known how magic corrupts.”

Merlin stilled. He… he hadn’t known that.

“Being in love seems awful,” Arthur said. He glanced at Merlin. “I think a man would do anything to keep the person they loved near.”

“Yeah.” Merlin’s throat was dry. He didn’t move his leg one bit. “Yeah, I think he might.”

“That’s why I’m…. concerned,” Arthur murmured. “I know so little about her, and I am- I don’t want to learn something that might hurt what I have.”

“That’s what makes a person a person though, isn't it?"

Arthur blinked.

“I mean, when you love a person, you don’t just love the good parts.” Merlin snorted. “I certainly don’t love how Gaius has the most awful smelling elixirs for breakfast, but it’s part of him. I think anything you learn about our mother, good or bad, makes her more real.”

Arthur stared at him. “When did you learn to be so wise?”

The back of Merlin’s neck flushed. “When I realized I had to keep an absolute idiot safe from his father, probably. Really, you hadn’t realized that a cupboard wasn't fully soundproof? That's ridic-“

“Shut up.” Arthur flicked up. “No, seriously, shut up. We’re not talking about this.”

“I think your father likes me more then you,” Merlin mused. “After all, he told me to watch out for you. He even knew my name.”

Arthur had opened his mouth, probably to say something stupid, but he froze at Merlin’s last sentence. Merlin froze too. How had Uther known his name?

“Arthur. Anything you want to share?”

“I…” Arthur cleared his throat. “I am realizing I might have mentioned you a handful of times when talking to my father.”

Oh, god. Merlin blinked. “A handful?”

Arthur shrugged. He kept his gaze stalwartly on the fire. “Just a handful, yeah.”

“Maybe two, three times?”

“Yes,” Arthur coughed, poking at the fire with a stick. Even the fire now seemed embarrassed, hesitant to come near him. “Yes, definitely that amount. Ignoring how many times, I think he might’ve… noticed.”

“Noticed,” Merlin said flatly.

“That I. I, er…” the rest of Arthur’s sentence was mumbled.

“Repeat that?” Merlin said, fighting a grin.

“That maybe I take your council,” Arthur said loudly in a rush. He coughed again. “When it’s good. Which it is rarely, of course. You’re not very smart, you know, your head has to be filled with air or mice or something ridiculous. It'd explain why you get knocked down so easi-“

Merlin was too busy kissing him to hear the rest of the insult. He ended up knocking them off their log.

“If this is how you respond to a single compliment, maybe I should do it more often,” Arthur murmured, nipping at Merlin’s earlobe.

Merlin pulled back for a second. “Don’t you dare.”

Arthur blinked. A smile as bright as the sun spread across his face, and he brought his face close again. “Duly noted.”

Merlin had become optimistic; Arthur, when he was in a good mood, was infectious. (his bad moods were infectious, too. Maybe Arthur, as a whole, just tended to affect Merlin.) He'd thought that, maybe, meeting Morgause could at least not end in death. He hadn't meant for it to mean a haunting, though, or a reveal of the past.

Absolutely everything fell apart when Merlin saw Ygraine's ghost. He knew, with unsettling certainty, Ygraine was telling the truth.

It felt like a puzzle piece clicking. More than that, it made plain damn sense. It was stupid, and dumb, and far too simple, which made it the perfect explanation for real life. The worst part wasn't even what Merlin knew— it was that he would keep Uther alive when he didn't deserve it.

He hadn't deserved it before, of course. Uther, by all rights, should've been buried in the ground the minute he'd gone to war against magic, but he was still alive because Merlin had taken to saving him. Before, he'd been able to convince himself it was because Arthur wouldn't be fit to take over yet, or because Gaius had asked him, but this was for none of those reasons. He was saving Uther because he knew that, if Uther died, Arthur would never forgive himself.

"I'm indebted to you, Merlin," Arthur said later. "I'd become confused again, but it's clear magic is only used for evil."

Merlin felt part of himself crack in half. He'd just written his death sentence again. "I'm… I'm glad," he said, and the worst part was that he meant it. Some part of him was glad Arthur trusted and believed in him enough to listen when he lied to his face.

"Merlin." Arthur turned to him. "You're… are you al-"

Merlin was good with words— that is, when he was able to control his gob—but words wouldn't express what he felt, the absolute level of Oh Gods, I'm fucked, so he kissed Arthur, warm and hot and needy.

Arthur caved in immediately. He grasped Merlin closer with tight and trembling hands, leaning in. "Merlin, I…" he murmured, panting slightly. There was something in his eyes, and Merlin could answer it. This, Merlin could do right, even if he seemed to do everything wrong everywhere else.

Merlin dropped to his knees, and he wished it felt a little less worshipful when he stared up. He also wished Arthur looked a little bit less worshipful looking down.

Magic stayed outlawed. Uther stayed alive. The relationship between Uther and Arthur was strained, now, full of some sort of tension, but neither acted on it. Merlin wished he felt a little less relieved, but he didn't. It was good to see Arthur have a father: lord knew Merlin wished he had one. He was concerned how willing he was to throw away "morals" or "beliefs" for Arthur, but he was more concerned whenever Arthur would frown, so those background worries disappeared more often than they should've. Besides, it wasn't like they were in love or anything.

"Merlin."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at Leon. It was late enough in the season that people getting colds had dwindled down, and more and more Merlin could stick around to watch Arthur practice for a tourney. He'd chosen to do this for completely logical reasons, not the thrill he got at seeing Arthur expertly manhandle people.

"I would've thought Gaius had chores for you to do," Leon said, leaning against the fence-post.

Merlin shrugged. "Not today, no. Picked up everything yesterday. Is there something you need, Leon, or-"

"Not need." Leon looked down. He picked at his shirt a bit. "It's- it's about Arthur."

Merlin sighed. "When is it not. Alright, what did he do now?"

"Nothing!" Leon said this hastily, but he seemed to quickly remember the numerous things Arthur tended to do that insulted people. He paused, remedied his sentence, and said, "Nothing you need to worry about. It's… technically, I serve Uther Pendragon, not Arthur."

Merlin did not ignore the technically there. He stepped a bit closer. "Did Uther tell you something?"

Leon grimaced. He looked back to Merlin, blanched a bit, and then turned away. "I am supposed to spy on Arthur's consort."

Merlin's eyes nearly fell out of his skull. "His what."

"Apparently, Arthur has a suitor, and I am supposed to make sure that suitor is not- not manipulating or taking advantage of him." Leon was, somehow, even more uncomfortable at that moment then Merlin had ever seen him, and he'd seen Leon half dead with diarrhea. "I doubt this person is-"

"Who's Arthur's consort?" Merlin interrupted.

Leon froze. He, very slowly and very deliberately, did not sigh or give a deeply judgmental look. "Merlin. Please."

Merlin finally put two and two together. His gut dropped. "Me?" He squawked before Leon could hush him. "Me, manipulating Arthur? He would listen to a toad before he listened to me."

Leon's glare grew even more sour. "Really," he said flatly.

All of he sudden, Merlin remembered the numerous times Arthur had sacrificed both his kingdom and his future for Merlin. He grimaced.

"it's not like that," Merlin hissed. "Not- no romance. It's just sex."

Leon's face became beetroot red. Merlin absentmindedly remembered that Camelot, on the whole, was a lot more reserved about things like sex than Ealdor. His mother had never shied away from the fact that many people engaged in sex and that Merlin had to understand that certain moaning noises in the forest weren't groans of pain, necessarily, just two idiot teens who had wanted some privacy.

"Merlin," Leon said with the cadence of a bird being strangled.

"Fine! Sleeping together." Merlin threw his hands up. "Arthur's not courting me, Leon, and I'm certainly not trying to manipulate him. Do your job, but oh my God."

Leon eyed him warily. Merlin realized he had only said Arthur wasn't in love with him, not we aren't in love with each other or the other way around.

"Alright," Leon said slowly. "If you're sure."

"I am." The conversation had thoroughly ruined what was leftover of Merlin's good mood, and he brushed off his pants aggressively so he could begin to walk away. "He's- he's the prince, and I'm his manservant. That's it."

Merlin did not turn around when Leon muttered, "Since when has that mattered?", but it was a near thing.

Merlin knew he’d never have a calm, relaxing day in Camelot, but every morning always seemed to be another one made to test his patience.

For instance; simply waking Arthur up in the morning.

Merlin hadn’t known he could be so deeply turned on by the sight of a man’s scruffy bed hair, but it seemed he could. Frankly, it seemed everything Arthur did nowadays was tantalizing, from the way he fought off the other knights to his habit of chewing on his quill to- well. There was a lot.

(There had always been a lot of turn-ons regarding Arthur—they were in their 20's, for god's sake—but now things would make his stomach flutter or his heart ache and that was more concerning. Far, far more concerning.)

It made Merlin feel like a ridiculous teenage girl, to be frank, the way he was swooning over Arthur, but he knew Arthur wasn’t doing any better. From the way he still viciously attacked Merlin’s neck with his tongue the moment Merlin took off his neckerchief, almost 2 and a half years after their arrangement had started, they seemed to be suffering together.

That became more and more apparent when lady Vivian entered the scene.

 It’d been a lovely day. Merlin had woken Arthur up, and he’d griped about the five visiting kings, but his smile had turned a bit fond when Merlin’s hands had lingered too long and there had been a promise of something there. The meeting out in the courtyard had been… fine, but Merlin had been more focused on how regal Arthur had looked. Not that he'd ever admit it.

“You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with her, Merlin.” Arthur scoffed as Merlin fetched his new shirt. “She insulted Guinevere.”

“Anyone insulting her should do so at extreme peril.” Merlin grinned. “I’ll sic you on them.”

“Merlin, I’m the prince, not some guard dog.” 

“Ah, same difference.”

“No, because I at least know what this means.” Arthur stuck his thumb through a hole in a shirt. “What sort of message does this send, Merlin?”

Merlin tried to smile reassuringly. It didn’t seem to be helping him, so he stepped closer to Arthur and rested his head on Arthur’s neck the way that made Arthur always shiver a bit. “That we have moths?”

“Fetch another one.”

“Hm.” Merlin kissed Arthur’s neck, letting his teeth scrape just a bit. He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading as Arthur inhaled.

“We have a meeting in thirty minutes,” Arthur hissed, but he was sighing and arching his neck.

“Oh, I can make quick work of you in thirty minutes.”

Arthur stilled, grabbing Merlin’s wandering hands and turning around to kiss him squarely on the face. Merlin, much to his dismay, heard himself let out a delighted hum. “That sounds like an insult.” 

Merlin scoffed. “No. Not an insult.”

“A brag, then,” Arthur said. He opened his mouth, but Merlin took the moment to let his tongue run over a spot that had Arthur catch his breath and groan in delight.

“Yeah, probably that.”

Merlin did live up to the time limit, also getting Arthur dressed, and it had been a rather fantastic day. He’d gone to bed actually excited for the rest of the week.

The next day would, in fact, not be a fantastic day.

“You’re dressed,” Merlin said dumbly. That was never good. He enjoyed dressing Arthur, even if he was careful never to reveal so. It felt like his own private moment to just be able to look at Arthur without many of those stupid defenses he was so fond of.

“I am the future king of Camelot,” Arthur said with a sniff. “I do have some skills, you know.”

“Sure,” Merlin said slowly. Arthur’s eyes were oddly glassy. 

“Good to see you understand.” Arthur went over to his desk. “Today, though, my job is to woo.”

Oh god. Merlin felt a swoop of horror in his stomach; it was quickly followed by embarrassment. Frankly, if Arthur actually did want to sleep with other people, it was none of Merlin’s business: they were just having some fun together. (This was a mantra he'd learned to repeat at the fear of actually going insane). The fact that he’d been scared by Arthur's supposed wooing was more annoying than anything else.

Also, it wasn't as if anyone else could posibly replace Merlin. Merlin was Arthur's destiny; they were two sides of the same coin. He couldn't be jealous if he knew he was irreplaceable.

What quickly brought back that fear, however, was how unlike Arthur this was. Merlin knew Arthur was terrified of any and all romantic entanglements, thanks to the raging obsession and despair of Uther. If Arthur was to fall in love, he wouldn’t announce it to anyone— he’d keep it tucked away until he’d come up with a battle plan to do something about it, and then he’d execute it very reasonably.

This was not reasonable.

“To what,” Merlin repeated.

“To woo. I wish to make a proclamation of love.”

“To who?” Merlin sputtered. “Last I remember, there was no one in this castle you were interested in-“

“It- My previous affections didn’t matter.  Not until…” the stupidest, sappiest smile appeared in Arthur’s face, and fucking hell it was magic, wasn’t it? It was always magic when Arthur was concerned. “Lady Vivian.”

“Lady Vivian.”

“I know I’ve mistaken you for deaf before, Merlin, but surely you don’t need to repeat everything I say.” For just a moment, Arthur looked normal again, but it flitted across his face and disappeared. He was quickly replaced with the same smiling buffoonery as before. “Now. Feelings.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. Secretly, he hoped he’d wake up and find himself in a really bad dream. “Feelings.”

“I… I need your help in expressing my feelings.”

Merlin snorted. “Course you do, you complete ass.” He snatched up a piece of clothing he’d slipped off Arthur a day or two ago, and it just made him all the more angry. “You don’t need my help wooing anyone, sire.”

 “Of course I do.” Arthur’s face contorted again. “It’d be wrong if I didn’t ask.”

“Ask someone else.” Merlin huffed a breath, and he left the room, ignoring Arthur’s furious shouts. He didn’t have time to negotiate with Arthur and figure out what the hell had happened to him.

Merlin ran to Gaius, ignoring how absolutely angry he felt. Gaius, who seemed to be cleaning out the tank, just sighed.

“Arthur’s in love,” Merlin said morosely.

Gaius stopped. He blinked. “From your tone, it doesn’t seem I should be congratulating you.”

Merlin flushed. “He wouldn't- That’s because it’s wrong. He’s fallen in love with lady Vivian.”

“Lady Vivian?” Gaius repeated incredulously. “My, that happened quickly.”

“Which is why it’s clearly magic or something.” The specifics didn’t really matter; Merlin just needed to change this as soon as possible.

“If Arthur professes his love for lady Vivian, Olaf will be furious.”

Merlin froze. He’d completely forgotten about what an actual potential issue was. It wasn't just a betrayal of Arthur's autonomy for him to be cursed like this: it could cause war.

Merlin nodded slowly. “And I suppose it’s up to me to stop it again?”

“Indeed it is, my boy.” Gaius gave a kind, heartwarming smile, which unfortunately just made Merlin more angry in the long run. “You must be the one to tell Arthur to turn his affections.”

“Great. Absolutely- absolutely great.”

Operation: distract Arthur was not going great, much to Merlin’s annoyance. He wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t have to like it.

“What are you doing with a rose, Arthur?”

Arthur’s glare would’ve intimidated a far weaker man, but it wouldn’t sway Merlin a bit. “How is that any of your business?”

“Considering I’m friends with Cecilia, who picked that rose, I think it is my business.”

Someone, Arthur’s gaze narrowed further. “Cecilia.” He spat out the name as if it was a rotten piece of meat. “Are you dating her?”

Merlin was aghast. Truly, this potion had done something he didn’t know was possible: it had made Arthur even more rude. “To quote you, how is that any of your business?”

“I-” Arthur blinked. He blinked again. “It isn’t. It isn’t. I’m here for Vivian.” He nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s it. I’m here to woo Vivian.”

The door opened, and Merlin couldn’t help the largest sigh of relief escaping him when he saw how utterly disinterested Vivian was. “Go away.”

“Yeah, I think she’s right,” Merlin scrambled to say, already trying to push Arthur in a different direction. It was no use: the man was built like a brick wall. “She clearly doesn’t want you here, and–”

“But just five minutes!” Arthur protested. He held out the cutlery and food tray. “I even brought chicken.”

Vivian glared. She slammed the door in his face.

Merlin took a deep breath. Unfortunately, even seeing Arthur upset at that moment was tragic for him. “I– Arthur, she’s not interested.”

“I see.” Even his sad gaze seemed to be wilting the rose. He stalked off to his room. Merlin just tried not to sigh too deeply.

The hair lock was a good item to have as backup for his enchantment claim, but it helped not at all with narrowing the spell down. Gaius seemed a bit annoyed by his urgency as well.

“Merlin, this is quite important, but your ability to perform magic will be hindered if you’ve gotten no sleep.”

Merlin’s eye twitched as he chugged more tea. This was the one Gaius had recommended for staying up late, and he certainly needed it. “I’ve already found over 100 hair-specific love potions, Gaius. I need to figure this out.”

“I see.” Gaius looked Merlin up and down. “And that's the only reason you're desperate?”

“Yeah, because it could start a war.” Merlin flipped another page. "We weren't- it's not-" He was not talking about this with Gaius. "We're not like that."

“Hm.”

Merlin could feel the judgmental eyebrow, but he wouldn’t admit to anything if he didn’t have to, so he just continued reading instead. None of the reading prepared him for the actual experience of Vivian falling for Arthur.

“If only she were in my room,” Arthur joked. Merlin could feel the steam escaping his ears. “Right, Merlin?”

Merlin decided to focus on leaving the room as quickly as possible instead.

Merlin spent about an hour convincing Arthur not to patrol the halls waiting for Lady Vivian. 

“But Merlin, I must show her my newest poem!”

Poem, Merlin mouthed incredulously, but he swept that thought to the side. “She- this isn’t the best time to talk to her, sire. If you catch her now and she’s in a bad mood, she may never want to speak to you again.”

That finally seemed to work. Arthur began to nod solemnly. “You are right, I suppose. I must meet her on her own terms.”

“Yes, you should.” Merlin gave a deep, deep sigh, and he shook his despairing mood away. If this was Arthur in love, thank God he’d never seen it. He’d left the room—Arthur hadn’t even noticed, the prat—and thought he’d be safe enough to search the library more and figure it out.

Unfortunately, he’d underestimated Vivian’s tenacity. That wasn’t fun to see, and neither was Vivian and Arthur snogging madly.

Merlin would’ve liked to think the reason his magic hadn’t worked was because of his sheer, radiating fury, but it wasn’t. His magic worked well when he was angry. No, it was that this enchantment seemed far too strong. Thankfully, his time in Camelot had given him good enough reflexes to jump back once Olaf and Uther entered the room.

“Father!”

Olaf’s face had gone from the blood red range to pure purple. Merlin was afraid for everyone’s sake. How Vivian had managed to literally sneak into Arthur’s rooms, he would never know, but he suspected the trail of expensive dresses as a rope was part of the plan. If only his life weren’t so insane.

Olaf threw the glove down and said, “Is your life truly worth risking for this, boy?” 

“I will not deny my love.” Arthur drew his chest up, standing tall and proud. It would’ve been an interesting moment if it weren’t for Vivian’s stupid expression and the absolutely stupidity of everyone involved. Merlin would've thought of a better insult if he wasn't so desperately worried for Arthur's life in the future battle.

Olaf huffed, storming away, grabbing his glove with an absolutely thunderous expression. He dragged Vivian along for good measure; Merlin couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t relieved.

Uther looked at Arthur. For the first time in Merlin’s life, he felt a sort of shared understanding with Uther— they were both utterly, completely confused by Arthur’s behavior, and they wanted nothing to do with it.

"Merlin," Uther ground out. "I thought you'd, at least, be able to distract my son from these flightful fancies."

Merlin's brain went at the speed of light as he realized what Uther was insinuating. "It's not as if we're- he's a prince!" Merlin protested hotly. "He can do- I don't-"

Uther glared at him, slamming the door as he left. Ridiculous. Was Uther seriously blaming him for not fucking Arthur enough to distract him from Vivian? That couldn't be right. Merlin had to be making something up here.

Arthur was still staring dreamily at the slipper Vivian had left in the room when she’d been dragged out. Merlin, irritated enough to light a fire with his fury, grabbed the slipper and whacked Arthur in the head with it.

“Ow!”

“Serves you right.” Merlin wished he could feel more vindication from Arthur’s hurt expression, but all he felt was a mottled sort of sadness. He decided to go and search for more love counter-spells instead.

“True love’s kiss?” Merlin repeated, eyebrows a mile high on his head.

“Indeed, young warlock.”

“Nope. Impossible.” Maybe, one day, Kilgarrah would give him useful, reasonable advice. “Arthur doesn’t have one of those.”

If Kilgarrah had an eyebrow, he probably would’ve raised it in a spectacular mimicry of Gaius’. Instead, he just drawled, “Truly? No one you can think of?”

“Nope. Too annoying for anyone to fall in love with him.” Merlin kicked a rock instead of thinking about the way the back of his neck was flushing. “Nothing else I can do?”

“…I am afraid not,” Kilgarrah said after a moment. “Only the strength of true devotion and love can break a magic spell so powerful.”

“Well.” Merlin fought past the roiling dread in his gut. “I’ll have to figure something else out, then, like I always do.”

He didn’t. Merlin spent hours searching for another answer, but there was nothing he could do. He stared at Arthur, being pummeled in the arena, and he felt the final door open.

Merlin was really good at denial. As someone with magic, as someone who spent practically all his time in Arthur’s vicinity, he’d gotten very, very good at ignoring himself and his feelings. However, like he would do for all things, he’d give up his sanity if it kept Arthur alive.

“Merlin!” Arthur grinned. Unfortunately, he still looked spectacular with a giant bruise on his face. “Have you come to wish me luck?”

“Oh, definitely,” Merlin said with a scoff. Arthur stood up, limping and grimacing as he walked over, probably expecting Merlin to help him with his clearly dented armor. “Sure seems like you need it.”

Arthur sniffed. For one beautiful second, he looked like the man he'd always been. “I don’t need luck. I’m the best knight in the lands.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause Lancelot was kicked out.”

Arthur started to scowl again. He pointed, wincing as he stretched what seemed to be a bruised shoulder. “You know he’s a rotten scoundrel, Merlin. Never liked seeing him around you.” He blinked. “I don’t remember why.”

“Because you’re under a bloody magical enchantment, you absolute and complete idiot.”

Arthur blinked again. “I’m what.”

“Yeah, and so you now remember- nothing!” Merlin threw his hands up. “You don’t remember how you hate love poems, or that you find roses annoying because they're prickly, or that Vivian is an ass.”

That weird cross-eyed and dreamy expression appeared Arthur’s face again. He leaned forward. “Don’t you dare speak poorly of my love.”

“Right. Course not.” Merlin’s eyes flicked down to Arthur’s mouth, which was now only a few centimeters away. “Feel free to kill me after this, alright?”

“After wha-“ Arthur began to say, but Merlin had only one thing he liked more than kissing Arthur: shutting him the hell up.

Arthur instantly leaned into the kiss, dropping a sword and even bringing his arms around Merlin’s waist. Merlin should’ve been concerned with how much he’d missed- this. He wasn’t, though, because his head was too busy spinning and his heart was too busy fluttering in his chest.

Merlin stepped away. Arthur fell onto the bench, stumbling back. He slowly opened his eyes. “Mer… Merlin? Where am I?”

Merlin could’ve cried with relief. “You’re- no time to explain, but you’re in a tournament.”

Arthur tried to get up; he decided to fall back onto the bench again with a groan. “I’m- what? How?”

“No time, but you need to not die.” Merlin picked up Arthur’s sword, placing it in his hands. “You can’t die, alright? I- I won’t allow it.” His voice cracked a bit on the last sentence.

Arthur’s eyes roamed Merlin up and down. He swallowed, and one of his hands began to move towards Merlin's nervous fingers; he pulled it back. “I won’t.”

Merlin nodded. “Good. Kick Olaf’s ass.”

With the mention of Olaf, some memory seemed to return to Arthur’s brain because his eyes began to widen. Merlin decided to push Arthur out the tent instead.

Arthur won, of course. He successfully disarmed Olaf and flipped him and resolved any remaining tensions. He looked up at Merlin, just for a second, and Merlin, with a feeling of sinking dread, knew the emotion in Arthur’s eyes then. He’d seen it in his own far too many times.

Arthur returned to his room, and Merlin watches as Vivian cried. He muttered a spell under his breath, and, of course, now the counter spell was working. Gods. If he’s just had Vivian’s true love—an impossible task with her personality—he could’ve spared himself that moment with Arthur.

But he’d liked it. He’d kissed Arthur hundreds of times, but it was as good as always, and it’d been enough to break Arthur out of the spell. 

Merlin didn’t want Arthur to be in love with him— at least, he’d gotten very good at telling himself that. If Arthur was in love, then he reciprocated Merlin’s love, and then they could be in a relationship. That would mean Merlin would have to reveal his magic. He just- he couldn’t be with Arthur without Arthur knowing. He couldn’t. He also couldn’t reveal his magic, so he was stuck in a standstill.

It was probably fine. Kilgarrah had mentioned devotion, and, no matter the stories, Merlin knew life was more complicated than a single true love. That’s what made love so beautiful, in his opinion- you had to choose it every single time. His mother had chosen to love his father, and he woke up every morning and chose to love Arthur in some way. Arthur would see better soon, and he’d love someone besides Merlin. It’d all be fine, eventually.

That was why, when Arthur asked what happened, Merlin turned his head away and shrugged. “Love spell. Someone cursed you and Vivian to- well.”

“I remember.” Arthur’s nose wrinkled. Merlin, unfortunately, found this adorable. “Did I snog her?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How’d you break the spell?”

Merlin was far, far too good at lying now. It didn’t even feel like a lie that much, ignoring the dread in his gut. “I think you getting bashed in so much did the work itself, frankly. You were already blinking in and out when I arrived in the tent— just needed to push you and get you to fall on your ass one last time.”

Arthur chuckled, and Merlin saw him freeze. 

Merlin turned, letting the grin spread wide in his face. “So happy you found my joke funny, sire.”

“Shut up.” Arthur stood up, and he was practically stalking over, and it was like Merlin was 19 instead of 22 all over again. “You heard wrong.”

“No, I think you laughed, meaning you know you fall on your ass so oft-“ Merlin’s sentence was broke off by Arthur pressing his lips against his. Merlin leaned in unconsciously.

“I hate that you can shut me up,” Merlin grumbled as Arthur’s hands wandered across his stomach.

“Too bad,” Arthur murmured simply, and all the joy in Merlin’s chest was almost enough to get rid of his guilt.

Life continued. Merlin would kiss Arthur and feel his heart flutter, and his brain would cry out, but it continued. And the blood on his hands continued to drip, bodies piling up over the months.

Then Morgause created the sleeping spell, and Merlin finally condemned himself for the rest of time.

“We’ve got to do something,” Morgana said.

“I know,” Merlin replied absently. And he did. There was a clear reason Morgana was alive, and even Kilgarrah had tried to warn him, but here Merlin was, with Morgana alive and Arthur fighting for his life. He had to do it.

“Do you!” Morgana scoffed. “You’re just- standing there, and-“

“Arthur is out there,” Merlin spat, moving towards Morgana. “I know. I know.”

Morgana looked Merlin up and down. He could see some regret crystallize in her eyes, and he wanted to feel vindication, but vindication wouldn’t allow him to poison her. He tamped it back.

“I… I’m sorry, Merlin. I know how important he is to you.”

Merlin winced. Out of everyone in the castle, she was probably one of the few that actually did.

“It’s alright.” He sighed, handing her the water skin. “I just- he’s out there.” Hopefully, by distracting her with talking, she’d drink the water instinctively. “He’s out there, and there’s nothing I can do.”

A look of consideration flickered over Morgana face. “Nothing you can do.” She sipped some water. “Merlin, I think I can-“

Her face froze. Merlin could see the poison begin to work.

She collapsed, and the most piercing look of betrayal crossed over her face. Merlin swallowed.

“I- I’m so sorry,” he whispered, because he was. Morgana didn’t know about his magic, but they’d been friends. She’d even tried to console him about Arthur. She didn't deserve to die, even if she was the true fault of all of this, but Merlin didn't quite care about that as much as keeping Arthur safe. “I need to keep Arthur alive.”

Before Merlin could second-guess his decision, Morgause rushed in, and she clutched Morgana’s spasming body. “What did you do.”

Merlin stood up. At least this meant he was right; Morgana, in some way, was what had been keeping these knights alive. At least his act of betrayal wasn't for nothing. "What I have to.”

"You poisoned her!" Morgause cried out.

"You gave me no choice," Merlin spit back, and he negotiated his way to getting what he needed. He knew Morgana was conscious; he could see it in the twitch of her eyes. She was watching every single moment of this, and before her and Morgause left, he could see her face break when Arthur came in.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, and something almost like that devotion he felt every day showed on Arthur's face. Arthur seemed to be watching him, seeing if he was alright, and Merlin was watching back. Of course he was; he loved him.

"Mer-" He stopped when he saw Morgana's limp body. "Morgana!"

"Get away from her!" Morgause shouted her spell, and they disappeared in a cloud.

Arthur flinched back, like a puppet being pulled by its strings. He stared at the ground. After a second, he turned back to Merlin.

"Merlin." His hand went up to Merlin's cheek; he jerked back, but Merlin grabbed the hand back before Arthur could second-guess. "Are— are you alright? Unhurt?"

"Yeah, I am," Merlin said, nodding quickly. "I am."

"I-" Arthur's eyes searched up and down Merlin's face, and then he decided to be foolish; he hugged Merlin.

Merlin almost froze. Arthur always ran warm, and that was still true after fighting the horde of undead knights. He was so warm. It took Merlin a second to hug back.

"Idiot," Merlin said, and it sounded fond, Goddess help him. It still sounded fond.

"You're still alive," Arthur breathed. "Thank the Gods, you're still alive." He pulled away. "Merlin, you- I don't-"

Something close to fear crossed Arthur's face, and Merlin's gut sank. He wouldn't do it now. He couldn't.

Arthur saw… something, because he hesitated a bit. Merlin wanted to reach out, assure him, but he wanted to keep this more. He knew this small pain would be far less than the pain needed to make them actually- well, actually, and it was alright. Merlin would do anything to stop himself from hurting Arthur.

"I'm alright," Merlin said softly, keeping his hand on Arthur's.

Arthur looked at their interlaced hands. "Good," he said absently. "I- good."

Merlin let himself just sit in the moment. It was… a lot, but it was all he needed. Maybe Arthur could be all he needed. That would be nice.

When Uther learned Morgana had disappeared, he destroyed most of his room. Merlin watched it all go down.

It'd be funny if it wasn't for the fact it had to do with Morgana, someone Merlin had cared about— used to care about— felt so deeply guilty over it was practically the same as caring about. It just seemed he'd always care about Arthur more. At least, he cared about keeping Arthur alive more than the others.

Uther fell to his knees. "They took her," he whispered. "The sorcerers took her too."

Merlin winced. It was melodramatic and foolish, but he hoped Arthur's grimace was from just how false that statement was. Merlin looked at Arthur: Arthur inclined his head slightly, and Merlin left to give them some privacy.

Arthur came back to his chambers a few hours later.

"He's not well," Arthur announced out loud. Merlin took the cue and began to undress Arthur quickly and efficiently. "The council has announced me as regent."

Merlin's movements stuttered. "Regent?"

"Do I need to repeat everything?" Arthur said, but it was tired, rote. "Yes, regent."

Merlin bit back a sigh. That made Arthur king in all but name. For Uther's health to be declining so readily so early, he had to be doing truly awful.

Then again, people hadn't liked Uther insomuch as they'd tolerated him. As long as the peace was kept, people didn't mind who their king was, and Arthur would keep the peace with a far looser fist and more genial attitude. If Merlin was a councillor, he'd be trying to shepard in Arthur as soon as possible, but Merlin was also in love with him, so his opinion was, admittedly, biased.

"Alright." Merlin nodded. "What do you need from me, then?"

Arthur's breath caught. He had been staring into the fire as Merlin had been unlacing his nightshirt. He turned to Merlin, expression inscrutable besides the confusion. "This isn't your burden to carry."

"Course it is," Merlin said easily. "You're my-" he wanted to say friend, but he stopped, and Arthur noticed he stopped too. He wasn't supposed to admit Arthur was even that, after all, and they were definitely more of some sort.

"I care about you, Arthur," Merlin said instead. He let his hand brush Arthur's forearm. "I'm not going to let you face this alone, whether you like it or not."

Arthur searched Merlin. He found… something, because he sighed deeply, and all the false bravado disappeared from him in one fell swoop. He knocked his shoulder with Merlin's. "Just- stay, I suppose."

"Course." I could never leave you. "It'd be too difficult to find a servant able to put up with you otherwise."

Arthur's laugh rang out, and it was the first genuine laugh from Arthur that Merlin had heard in a while. "Most people would be more than happy to serve me, Merlin— it's an honor."

"No, you think it's an honor, and the rest of the people haven't been told the truth yet," Merlin shot back easily, bending down to pick up Arthur's shirt. He threw it into the clothing pile he'd dubbed "mostly kind of dirty laundry" in his head. "Frankly, the state of your rooms shows how much of a slob you are."

"It is, quite literally, your job to clean my rooms."

"And look at the state of it, after all my hard work!" Merlin exclaimed. He grinned at Arthur. Arthur visibly fought a grin back. "Says a lot about your entitlement."

"Your laziness, more like," Arthur shot back, and he began to walk over to Merlin while Merlin poked at the fire half-heartedly.

"I am not lazy," Merlin protested. "Just because I don't think it's fun to run around doing boring chores doesn't mean- mrmph." He was unable to find the rest of his sentence, what with his tongue in Arthur's mouth.

"Come to bed," Arthur murmured, just leaning every so slightly back. "Idiot." He must've heard how sentimental he sounded.

Merlin snorted. "Course, sire."

Arthur flushed, but Merlin knew him well enough that he instead let his breath ghost against the shell of Arthur's ear and distracted him with a good amount of sex, and all was mostly right in the world.

Morgana had disappeared for almost a month by the time Merlin saw her again.

The thing was. Morgana had always been more perceptive than everyone around her, even in Camelot, and she'd clearly noticed just how absolutely besotted Merlin was. The worst part, when poisoning Morgana, was how something cold had hardened in her eyes, and it'd been made of understanding. That splinter of understanding had essentially doomed him.

So, one night, Merlin awoke to a dagger at his throat.

“Forbearnan,” he hissed, throwing fire in his attacker's face, just enough to get them off his bed. The person yelped, visibly muffling themselves with their arm, but they leaned in.

In the light of the spell, Merlin saw the face: it was Morgana. Of course it was Morgana. He’d thought it’d be a random attacker, someone he could dispatch, but instead she’d seen him use magic.

To her credit, Morgana’s reaction was little more than pressing the knife closer and her eyes widening. “You really do have magic. I thought I- I was making things up, being too suspicious, but you do.”

Merlin grit his teeth, and he looked at the knife with a pointed glance. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not the most talkative when a knife’s at my neck.”

“I think it more than makes up for the poison i was given.”

“I-“ Merlin felt that lead ball of shame in his stomach again. “I’m sorry, you know.”

“I do. Which makes it worse because, if you didn’t feel sorry, than at least I’d know why you did it.”

“Why I- you were the key, Morgana!” Merlin spluttered. “Unless I knocked you unconscious, those knights would've killed Arthur!”

“How did you believe that? That I was the key?” Morgana shifted, moving so the knife was instead pointed from a foot away, so she wasn’t kneeling on Merlin’s chest. She had to know the knife was little threat to Merlin. At this point, with his magic, he could give a glance and throw it across the room. 

“Oh, please. Only one person awake in the castle, and I have magic,” Merlin said with a scoff. “You really think I can’t connect basic dots?”

“Morgause hadn’t told me, you know,” Morgana whispered, and something in Merlin’s heart clenched. “I told her I wanted Uther to die, and then I fell asleep, and then we were all under attack.”

Merlin blinked. He hadn’t- he hadn’t known. Absolutely ridiculous, that he thought Morgana had turned to kill them all so quickly. He swallowed. “Oh.”

“You really think so little of me?” She moved closer, dagger poised. “That I’d threaten our entire country just to get revenge?”

“I… I didn’t know if you would or wouldn’t, Morgana,” Merlin confessed, “but I knew needed to save Arthur.”

Morgana stared at him. Thankfully, after a moment, she began to get up. She rammed her dagger back into a sheath, and, glaring, said, “Was my life so expendable?”

“Expendable.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to say? That it was easy? No, it wasn’t easy, and your life is sure as hell not expendable,” Merlin said sharply. “I had to make the decision. I had to choose whether to sacrifice one of my friends or keep everyone else alive and safe, and I’m sorry that I was able to do it, but I am.”

“You’d give up absolutely anything for Arthur, wouldn’t you?” Morgana spat.

Merlin’s mouth opened. He closed it. He’d meant that and thought that before in a vague notion—I’d die if it saved Arthur, I’d kill murderers if it saved Arthur—but with Morgana in front of him, he found himself wondering if he’d kill her for Arthur.

“I… I think I might,” Merlin murmured. “I think I really might.” 

“Camelot would have thrived under Morgause-“

“Bullshit,” Merlin spouted. “Morgause wants revenge, and I get it, truly, but she doesn’t want to do good. Once Uther’s kind was out of the chair, once she killed every one who had even thought of hurting a sorcerer, half the kingdom would be gone, and guess what? She’d have no idea what to do next.” 

Morgana hesitated. Something in her eye told Merlin she needed to hear this, if just to steel herself.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Merlin stood up fully, not even pretending to be threatened by her dagger anymore. “Tell me she cared deeply for the people. Tell me that and I’d gladly agree to a sorcerer in the seat.”

He could see the doubt crystallize on her face, but it was short lived— she looked back at Merlin, and she scoffed.

"No, maybe you're right." Morgana sniffed. "She's… she's told me she cares for me, but she's far too much like Uther for me to trust her right now." She then turned to Merlin, and that sharp glint in her eyes made Merlin figure out what she was going to say ahead of time. Triumph began to spread across her face. “But you're lying too— you wouldn't accept a sorcerer on the seat because you’d keep Arthur there.”

Merlin swallowed. “I-“

“You think you speak for magic users?” Morgan’s spit out the last two words. “You’ll do anything if it keeps the Pendragons safe.”

“If it keeps Arthur safe.”

“What’s the difference?” Morgana scoffed. “Tell me you haven’t stopped an assassination attempt again Uther just to keep Arthur happy.”

Merlin was silent.

“You’ve condemned all of us,” she hissed. 

“I… he wasn’t ready.”

“No one is ever ready to rule!” Morgana’s glare was so venomous that Merlin was hesitant to even look at her. “Because of you, dozens of sorcerers have burned.”

“I-“

“If you hadn’t been so selfish, then maybe-“

All the glass in the room cracked, and Merlin’s eyes were a brilliant gold, and he felt everything inside him shatter. “I KNOW!” 

Morgana faltered.

“I know what I’ve done.” Merlin stalked forward. “I have killed people for Arthur, desperate people, and I’ll do it tomorrow, and I’ll do it again if it keeps him safe. I know what I am, Morgana. I know that I’ve condemned dozens to the pyre, and I’ll condemn even more if I just keeps him alive.” His voice hitched, cracking a bit, and tears were falling, weren’t they? He could feel them collecting at the corners of his eyes.

Morgana faltered. She hadn't expected Merlin to be so honest, but he was. It was the only way he could keep up with all the lies he told to Arthur; he couldn't lie to himself. Not about this, not right now.

“But I know what I am.” Merlin leveled her with a glare. “You think you’re any better? You think your little invasion didn’t kill anyone?”

“It was for-“

“There is no greater good,” Merlin interrupted, “and if you say there is, I swear I will take you out to the gravesite where I would've buried Arthur."

Morgana bit her tongue.

“I’m sorry, Morgana.” Merlin sighed. “I really am. But I’m not going to change. Next time you come to me, trying to pretend to be better, at least know where you stand. Now get the hell out of my room.”

It must’ve spoke to Morgana's intelligence that she simply nodded and said, “At least I’m not a coward,” when she left. It was relatively kind of her.

Merlin stared at the wall. He let himself cry a bit more.

It seemed Morgana hadn't only returned to see him. Merlin had somewhat wished that because, if she hadn't, there was every chance she could've revealed his secret. He would've deserved it, that was for certain, but he didn't get that punishment. Merlin didn't quite know how to feel about that.

If she could've just told his secret, then they'd be even. Then Merlin wouldn't have to feel so damned guilty. But he was still alive, and he'd tried to kill one of his friends just because he was so, so afraid of Arthur dying.

Life continued. Well, it continued at a different pace, one with impending dread on Merlin's side, but it continued.

Arthur was now regent. That meant that, for the remainder of the week, he was rushing between meetings, trying to understand what was now his jurisdiction that he didn't even know about. Uther had delegated a lot since his idea of ruling was "just murder suspected sorcerers, forget about the rest of the lot," but Arthur wasn't as content to let lords decide for the people without any oversight. It was horribly endearing.

So Merlin got his outfits ready and kept watch for assassins and kissed him and slept with him and it was working, mostly. They didn't get to see each other much for 4 straight days, but Merlin knew either the busywork would die down or he'd find a way to worm his way back to his side. It wasn't really worming since Arthur clearly wanted him there, too. Arthur had even almost complimented Merlin a day ago; that's how he knew Arthur missed him nearly as much. That, plus the fact that he'd immediately remedied his statement with a comparison to Gaius' old bones and saying he was so pale he looked like a fainting maiden. Arthur just liked to oscillate between those two extremes when trying to care for Merlin.

That Friday was different, though. When Merlin came back into Arthur's room, he was staring at a wall, face blank.

"My Lord?" Really, the day hadn't been that significant. Sure, it was less than a week since he'd been crowned regent, and that meant he was now dealing with lots and lots more bullshit than before, but it didn't explain why he looked like a grizzled war veteran.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was empty. "Morgana visited me today."

Merlin fell over his own feet. His entire body felt dizzy, as if it was being propelled from dread and anticipation instead of his heart. "Oh?"

"She did." Arthur stood up, standing across from Merlin as Merlin hastily scrambled to look somewhat unfazed. Frankly, Arthur probably had no idea what was making him act like this. He had to be worrying for no reason. "And she told me about you pouring poison down her throat."

Merlin's entire world dissipated in one clear second. He only saw Arthur. Arthur, whose face had rage carve into every line, whose eyes were so full of disappointment Merlin could drown in it; Arthur, absolutely and completely distraught.

"I…" Merlin swallowed. "Sire, I can explain."

"Can you?" Arthur went over to his desk. He looked at the wooden varnish instead of Merlin. "Because Morgana gave me one, and hers uses magic."

Merlin waited a beat. He waited another. "…it does."

It would've been really, really nice if that moment had given Merlin some relief, if the simple acknowledgment that Merlin was a sorcerer was the extent of his distress. But it hadn't. No relief, no major lifting off his shoulders had occurred, because Merlin's problems were far more than just being a sorcerer. They were mostly to do with being in love with Arthur.

Arthur's face shattered. He placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward and hiding his expression even further. Merlin's heart pounded in his chest. "Gods, Merlin, I don't- I thought she was lying. Anything else you want to tell me, then?"

"About myself?" Merlin said, trying to joke. It came out weak and halfhearted.

"Yes."

I'm in love with you. I have been for a while. I think I would let the sun swallow the Earth if it kept you alive, never mind pushing others down into their graves. I'm afraid that while I bring out the best in you, you bring out the worst in me, and isn't that awful? Merlin stared. "Not that you'll want to hear."

"I'd rather hear it now than be lied to again," Arthur said harshly. "For God's sake, Merlin, Morgana just told me she's been hiding her own sorcery for months, but that pales in comparison to everything else she said!"

"Like?"

"Like that you have your own magic, but you never even tried to helped her!"

Merlin blinked. Even now, even when in the thralls of rage, Arthur bloody Pendragon just had to be a uniquely decent person. "I wanted to," Merlin said, stepping a bit closer, "I did, but Gaius told me not to and… and I couldn't tell her before you."

Arthur winced like he'd been stabbed. "That's your answer?"

"The main one, yeah."

"How are you taking this so lightly?"

"Lots of fear," Merlin said, which was true— the adrenaline running through his body had made the entire experience rather dreamlike. "Being deeply afraid does wonders for a person's humor."

Arthur cut off a laugh that seemed to be developing. He turned away again, and he collapsed in his chair. He looked far older than he had any right to. "She told me all this to make me revoke the magic ban as soon as possible. Her reasoning was that if two people I cared about had magic, I'd be able to 'see' how it wasn't inherently awful."

Merlin didn't like the way Arthur was saying that statement— like Morgana had invested into a lost cause. "It's not awful," he rushed to say. "It's like- it's a like a dagger. You don't blame a dagger for a murder, and you don't blame a human for being able to make a fist: it's just things that can happen. Killing people for having magic is like killing them for having a hand to hit someone with. You put them on trial for what they do with the magic."

Arthur nodded slowly. His gaze was still on the ground, his leg moving up-down at a million miles per hour while he sat. "So you've known? All this time, you've thought it was inherently wrong to kill sorcerers?"

"I…" Merlin looked for the words. "Considering I'm born with magic, yeah, I did, and-"

"Then why," Arthur grit out, "did you not tell me that."

Merlin blinked.

"I've sentenced people to their deaths, Merlin," Arthur exclaimed, gesturing to the town square. "They've been killed for having magic, and you're telling me you believed I was killing them for no reason? That you were willing to let me live as a murderer in your eyes?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Merlin felt that shame, that shame that had choked him now for a few years, pale in comparison to this morality suggested by Arthur. How dare Arthur pretend there was a simple solution to this, that Merlin could have single-handedly stopped Uther's murders. "Really, what? You were his son, and you could barely stop him from murdering people on his worst days! I couldn't have convinced you, let alone gotten you to stop it."

Arthur winced. "You could have-"

"No, I couldn't," Merlin said firmly. He slammed his hand down on the desk in front of Arthur. "If you'd known what you were doing to these innocent people, Arthur, it would have eaten you alive, and I couldn't let that happen."

Arthur looked at his palm. Arthur then looked at his face. "Let it?"

Merlin swallowed. He was suddenly very aware that he was standing over the regent of the throne, a lowly manservant nearly threatening him. he stepped back. "It… not when I could stop it. Stop you from hurting."

"That was your reasoning?" Arthur scoffed. "You wanted to spare my feelings. You decided that sparing my feelings was more important than keeping others alive."

"Well, it's not as if anyone else is going to do it," Merlin spat.

Arthur's eyes widened; he inhaled sharply.

"Not…" Merlin felt the insane urge to justify his decision. Maybe he had just said that the most important thing was Arthur's happiness and health; so what? He was magic incarnate, meaning his word was law. "Not even your father put you first, Arthur, so I will. So I do."

Heartbroken wasn't the right word, if only because he was so negative; what Arthur was feeling had more confusion in it. Arthur looked completely torn apart. His hand was trembling. "What are you- what are you saying?"

"That I'm in love with you, you absolute dolt," Merlin said with a sigh, and finally, that relief appeared, that mythical feeling Merlin had been absent of for years. "That I won't ever let harm come to you if I can stop it and I can—and will—kill others if it keeps you safe. That's the only reason I poisoned Morgana, and I'd do it again if you asked."

"I never would," Arthur said dumbly.

"I know. You're far too kind and willing to sacrifice yourself for that," Merlin said with a sigh, trying to appear unaffected. From the way his heart was pounding against his ribcage, he was miserably failing. "So it's up to me to keep you alive."

"I…" Arthur's gaze stayed in the middle distance. "I don't… why didn't you tell me?"

"Because that would've worked?" Merlin scoffed. "'Sorry, Arthur, know we've been sleeping together for years now, but I just happen to be in love with you so it's not possible anymore."

Arthur winced, waving a hand. "Alright, I get- I get your point."

"Good." Merlin felt twitchy. He wanted to reach a hand out to Arthur, offer him some comfort, but he also very much worried Arthur would flinch back. That would somehow be worse than everything else he'd endured. "What… what would you like me to do?"

Arthur sighed. "I need time, Merlin, to decide whether or not-" His face paled. "Give me some time."

Merlin had, in the corner of his mind, hoped for at least an I love you too at the end of this, but that was foolish. More than that, it was stupid. It was ridiculous how love worked— the world could be ending, and he'd probably be thinking about the color of Arthur's eyes or something as equally insane. "Alright, Arthur," Merlin said softly. "Alright."

"Leave." Arthur waved a hand. "just— stay with Gaius. I need to think."

Merlin almost asked for how long, but he was worried the answer would be something far to close to forever, so he did the one thing he'd never been very good at; he kept his mouth shut and left.

Gaius clearly wanted to say something that night when Merlin entered the room, and the next morning, and the morning after that, but it took two whole days of Merlin staring morosely into the distance for him to finally speak up.

"Merlin." he gave a look. "I'm afraid if you stir that porridge while looking into the window for far too long, it'll be completely cold."

"Ah." Merlin grimaced. "Sorry, Gaius."

"Hm." Gaius took another spoonful of his food and gave Merlin another look up and down. "You haven't been in Arthur's quarters the last few days."

"He's been—" Merlin stabbed his porridge with his spoon. It didn't help. "Busy."

"Busy?" Gaius repeated.

"Yep." Merlin took a mouth of lukewarm porridge. "He doesn't need my help anymore."

"My dear, dear boy," Gaius said, and he placed a hand on Merlin's forearm, "Arthur always needs you, whether he can admit it or not."

Merlin felt his eyes get warm and prickly in the corners. He nodded, hoping to hide it. "Thanks, Gaius."

"Of course." They ate the rest of the night in silence. It was cold outside, but Merlin felt as if he was sheltered from it well.

Everyone noticed Merlin was absent from Arthur's chambers for a week, and by everyone, Merlin truly meant everyone.

Leon had noticed the first day, sidling up to Merlin and asking if things were "all alright" in the castle, and Merlin had snapped at him (very reasonably!) and then heded back to Gaius' chambers to sulk. Gwaine had followed next. His prescribed medicine was getting pissed at the tavern; that meant Merlin was now waking up with the worst headache in all of history.

"It's on the wooden table," Gaius said as Merlin stumbled out of his room, eyes bleary and head thundering like when Arthur had hit him with a wooden mallet. Merlin muttered "thanks Gaius" and went to the town square to drop off the necessary elixirs.

"Merlin!" Elyan shouted. Merlin turned on his foot to see Gwen and Elyan chatting. They both looked oddly nervous. He gave a wave, and they rushed over.

Elyan seemed deeply, deeply exhausted, wincing and shuffling over in his armor. "You alright?" Merlin asked. "D'you need any of Gaius' poultices?"

"That would be helpful," Elyan said with a wince. "Arthur's been-" He cut himself off with a small yelp. "Difficult the last few training days."

Merlin look at Gwen, who was rubbing her now-bruised elbow. She gave him a bright smile.

"Right," he said slowly. "look, you don't have to avoid talking about Arthur, it's all fine."

Elyan coughed conspicuously; Gwen's smile faded, her jaw hanging slightly open.

"It's fine," Merlin repeated sharply. His good mood had already fallen away. "Arthur's just- it's fine. He's fine. I'm fine."

"That's not what Gwaine said," Elyan remarked with a wince.

Merlin scoffed. Betrayal. "See if I ever pay his tab again."

Gwen and Elyan exchanged another look, some sort of sibling thing that seemed fully focused on Merlin's expression of annoyance and anger.

"Merlin, we're all worried about you." Gwen placed an arm on his forearm. "Arthur's been out of it, and he's been interrogating dozens of the townspeople."

Something weird thumped against Merlin's chest; it was like a rib bone. "Interrogating?"

"He's been asking about magic." Gwen sighed. "I just- I hate seeing you like this, and Arthur's your friend, and that means I don't like seeing him so out-of-sorts either."

"I…" Merlin's mouth felt dry. "I'm sorry, Gwen, but he's the one that has to come to me. Not the other way around." There was no way he could explain the extent of the betrayal, not without explaining that Merlin was sorry he was in love while Arthur probably wanted him to be sorry for using magic. Magic hadn't been what had driven him to murder, after all.

He dodged and weaved through the crowds instead of answering the rest of her questions. Gaius' room felt cold and barren even though there was no material difference, just Merlin's aching awareness that it was a place without Arthur.

He sat down on the bench across from Gaius' poultices. Double-checking his surroundings, he grasped a poultice jar and let his magic flow into it. If he couldn't help Arthur, he could at least help others.

After two weeks, Merlin was beginning to be a bit desperate, and, really, he had every reason to be. He was existing in a perpetual state of limbo, unsure if he was going to be executed or not. Even though he was unsure if him dying was possible—his magic was frighteningly strong—he didn't want to test that fear, and his friends certainly didn't need to see him die.

So, Merlin swallowed his fear and packed it up. He'd gotten quite good at that the last few years. Arthur was suffering, but that didn't give him any damn right to keep Merlin waiting for his own execution. Merlin needed him to decide on that, at least.

While training was going on (another brutal one, from the perpetual groans of dismay echoing off the training grounds) Merlin went to Arthur's room. George had clearly been taken in as the replacement— the place was meticulously clean. Merlin scoffed and wrinkled his nose as he used the pristine, shiny doorknob in order to go inside.

it was good, but it was also wrong— George clearly had no idea how to keep Arthur's stuff in the best order for Arthur. Merlin began to fall back into his system, and it was almost therapeutic, getting to put all of Arthur's life away right before he got to see what happened to his own.

It wasn't as if Merlin would let himself die. Even he wasn't that much of a martyr, and, really, his only true crime was sacrificing all of himself to Arthur. That wasn't what Arthur was going to execute him for; he was going to execute him for magic, and Merlin wouldn't allow that. He'd pretend to be Dragoon or something equally stupid, and then watch over Arthur from a distance. It'd be awful, but he'd manage.

"Merlin."

Merlin did not drop the robe he was holding. He had particularly fond memories of that robe; it was the one Arthur liked to keep perpetually unlaced in such a way that had made Merlin's blood rush at the worst of times. "Hello, Arthur." He pushed the cabinet drawer closed with a bit more energy than required. "Are you going to execute me?"

"Merlin."

"It's a fair question," Merlin protested, but the rest of his remark died on his lips as he turned to face Arthur. Arthur looked… awful. Scruffy was the nicest way to describe it; drowning in misery was a better one. His face was full of sad stubble, his eyes were creased and baggy, and his posture was slumped. Merlin hated to think he was the reason behind this.

"I… If I'm going to be executed, I need to tell my friends," Merlin said quietly. He wrung his hands. "Gwen and Gwaine and Lancelot should get to say goodbye first, I think."

Arthur's face was unreadable. Merlin hated that. "Do you really think so?" Arthur said tonelessly. "Are you prepared for me to kill you?"

The sentence was phrased so oddly. "I…"

"The truth, Merlin."

"No." The rebuttal fell out, tumbling like it was off a cliff. Merlin looked away for a second. "I'm really not, but I won't take that from you too. If you decide to, I won't- I won't try and convince you otherwise."

Arthur searched him up and down, looking for- for something. Merlin wished he knew what. Suddenly, his posture, which seemed limp, relaxed, and he walked past Merlin.

"You know, for all your secrets, you are a terrible liar," Arthur said tiredly. He fell onto his chair by his desk, rifling through the pages. His hand ran through his hair; it stuck up. "Do you think I'm going to kill you? Is that the sort of man I am?"

Merlin swallowed. "No," he said weakly, "But I'm not the sort of man to hide secrets, and here I am."

Arthur cut off another laugh by looking to the window instead. His hand rested on a document, one Merlin hadn't looked at properly. "Leave, Merlin. Go away from Camelot and see your mother. Lead a better life there than you could here."

"I'm not going to do that," Merlin said, aghast. Rage was bubbling up again. "Even ignoring you, all the people I care most about, besides my mother, are all in Camelot. I'm just supposed to leave Gaius?"

Arthur just grimaced at that. He sighed; something steeled in him. He pushed a piece of paper toward Merlin. "I'm going to lift the ban on magic."

All the air in the room sucked into a void at once. Merlin thought he might've fallen into the ground, or started floating, or, somehow, both. "What?" he croaked out.

"You heard me." It was a common rebuttal from Arthur, but it sounded oddly weary at that moment. "In a month's time, magic won't be illegal- the possession, at least. using magic will be heavily scrutinized for the time being, but it's not to be viewed as a capital offense. I'll have to continually look at some old lawbooks, considering there used to be ways to manage magic, but-"

"That's- that's it?" Merlin didn't know why he was protesting this, but his brain-to-mouth connection didn't seem to be working. "You don't think magic is evil?"

Arthur's jaw flexed for a moment. "It's not important. Once the magic ban is lifted, I'll-"

"Nope, sorry, we're not moving on." Merlin picked up the piece of paper and scanned it quickly. It was all there; a lift on the murder sentencing, a rewriting on the magic laws… "Either this is a fake-out, or you don't believe magic is inherently evil."

"Merlin, you idiot," Arthur grit out, snatching the paper, "Of course I don't think magic is inherently evil. I've never thought it was because I don't think anyone is inherently evil."

"Oh." Merlin blinked. "Then why-"

"Because every time anyone has used it, they've gone mad with power and tried to kill me," Arthur said with a deep, deep sigh. In the setting sunlight, with the desk and the slight stubble, he looked nearly a decade older than he was.

"Then why are you lifting it?"

"I'm finally doing what you want, and even then, you find ways to pester me."

"Because if I don't know why, I can't guarantee it'll stay that way," Merlin said sharply.

"Well." Arthur's vein ticked as it did when he was either very, very nervous or very, very angry. "Will you ever stop having magic?"

Merlin frowned. "What? No, I won't, it's not-"

"There you go then." Arthur stood up. The chair screeched against the hardwood floor. "It'll stay un-banned for the rest of your life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to-"

Merlin grabbed Arthur's arm as he tried to walk past. Something was thundering in his veins, and it felt far more extreme than just adrenaline. "Sorry, what?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself just because your brain decided to give out." Arthur said this as if he was insulting Merlin normally, but his eyes were avoidant and he seemed far too nervous. He was more on edge than Merlin had ever seen him.

"Arthur." Merlin took a deep breath; he stepped in slightly closer. Arthur's exhale was shaky. "Why are you lifting the ban on magic?"

Arthur swallowed, his throat bobbing, his gaze stuck on the floor. He then sighed, as if he was weighed down with the greatest burden of all time, and he looked at Merlin. "Merlin," he muttered, "I'm lifting it because of you."

Time stopped. Merlin's heart was pounding so quickly that he could've sworn it was trying to break out of his rib cage. "You're- you're what?"

"I can't have you die. I can't." Arthur's distress became palpable again, and it seemed he was imagining Merlin dead because he quickly grabbed Merlin's arm. "If this is the only way to keep you alive, then- then I'll do it."

"That's why? You're turning your back on all of your Father's goals for- for me?" Merlin said this as a joke, but it was deadly silent.

Arthur couldn't seem to return his gaze, and all he did, instead, was rub his thumb against Merlin's forearm.

"Arthur." Time had started again, rapidly unspooling, winding out of Merlin's control as Arthur pulled himself out of Merlin's grasp and began to head to the door.

"I've already asked many council members, and the ones I've kept have agreed that, as long as I make sure to interrogate sorcerers and make it clear that I have no appeal for bloodlust, I may be able to stop a large counter-reaction to my policy changes. "Arthur had his back turned to Merlin— absolutely unacceptable. "They'll start simply being imprisoned, and-"

"My lord." Merlin laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder; Arthur cut off his sentence with a choke. "Turn around?"

Arthur, very, very slowly, turned on his foot. His eyes were far too wide, far too full of fear. Merlin thought it'd be best if he stopped that.

He kissed Arthur, very gently, very quickly. Arthur gasped and immediately pulled him closer, not allowing Merlin to break for a second.

"You absolute buffoon," Merlin murmured. Arthur laughed a bit at that. "To think I didn't feel the same."

"People love each other all the time," Arthur replied. He'd nestled his head in the crook of Merlin's neck. "Being willing to change the laws of the kingdom is different from that. Why'd you think I never told you?"

And, well. Arthur had a point. Merlin certainly loved Gwen, but he would never kill for her the same way he had for Arthur. "Well. I feel the same way. For some reason."

"'For some reason?'" Arthur repeated incredulously, and Merlin began to laugh. It unlocked something in him.

"Well, I loved you enough that I kept it hidden even when I was sleeping with you the last few years," because he had loved Arthur for years; he just hadn't accepted it as the truth until Sophia. "That's the only reason I didn't-" he bit the inside of his cheek for a second. "I couldn't say anything until you knew about my magic."

Arthur hummed into his neck. "Well. I couldn't really say anything until you came to me. I am the prince. I couldn't pressure you."

"When has you being the prince ever made me do anything?" Merlin remarked, and Arthur laughed again.

"I couldn't risk it," Arthur replied. He stepped back, but, before Merlin could protest, he was leading Merlin to their bed very, very quietly, with gentle hands and a slight pull. "I couldn't- I needed to know it."

"That I loved you?"

"That you wouldn't be frightened," Arthur amended. "It would've messed up our arrangement-" God, he was still so repressed about sex- "But I… it's just so much, Merlin. All this."

And Merlin understood in a lightning bolt of clarity. Arthur, for all his faults, had become a reasonable person the last few years. With Merlin by his side, as he developed friends, as he learned to doubt Uther, Arthur had become able to use his heart and his head together. What Merlin felt had no logic, no thinking— it was just a deep, aching need to stay by Arthur's side. How frightening, for that feeling to sneak up and overtake a person. How horrifying, when that person's father had only used his love for evil. No wonder he'd said nothing.

"I'm not frightened," Merlin said softly. He kissed Arthur again. "I'm really not."

"Well. Good." Arthur grinned. "I can't believe you were cleaning my rooms while waiting."

"George can't do it right!" Merlin protested, and Arthur chuckled a bit into his throat at that. They were leaning against the bedboard, and Arthur was undoing his laces and slipping off Merlin's shirt. "He doesn't know how you like your room arranged."

"And you do?"

"Course." Merlin swallowed a gasp of "please" as Arthur scraped his teeth on his neck. Merlin tried to not say things like that during when his brain was still working; Arthur didn't need his ego boosted.

"Then you must actively think I like having only spare vegetables for breakfast. Or not having clean floors."

"Well." Merlin grimaced. "Not… not those things. Probably."

Arthur, who'd been very efficiently making Merlin become more and more aroused, broke it off to instead laugh against his shoulder. "You're a terrible manservant, you know. The only reason I didn't sack you was because I found you pleasing to look at."

Merlin knew that wasn't the actual only reason— Arthur hadn't had friends, and then Merlin had been his one true friend, showing the world that actually, he was a decent person, and then other friends had appeared—but Arthur had never acknowledged that he'd felt attracted to Merlin before they'd started having sex. "Truly?"

"Oh, it drove me mad." Arthur's hand began to run its way down Merlin's chest. "You were far too scrawny, even then, but you loved to bend over and pick up my clothing, and I'd just stare."

"God." Merlin's pulse raced; he actually hadn't been making up how good the sex was. That hadn't just been a dream of his.

"Never mind your stupid face." Arthur's hands went down into Merlin's breeches. "You always looked so smug, so beautiful, and I just-"

"Gods, Arthur," Merlin gasped, and things went a bit hazy after that.

"You found me attractive."

Arthur glared. "No, I didn't."

Merlin was lounging on the bed, pleasantly exhausted and sweaty. Arthur was also clearly pleased, his hair mussed, but he was stalwartly ignoring Merlin, as if he hadn't called him star-struck before.

"Can't take it back." Merlin drove his elbow into Arthur's side. Arthur knocked him back. They began to tussle a bit, and Merlin laughed, delighting in Arthur's yelp as Merlin knocked him bare-assed onto the floor with a well-chosen kick. It felt so very childish, but it was also very, very fun.

"That's treason, you know." Arthur stood up and huffed. He went back onto the bed and sidled right next to Merlin. "Lying about your prince."

"Sure it is, sire." He combed a hand through Arthur's hair. Arthur hummed contentedly. Oddly enough, he could be a lot like a cat sometimes. "Do you- you really don't mind?"

Arthur tensed a bit, sensing the change in conversation. "Of course I mind," he muttered. "All I seem to know is family members and friends who have betrayed me, and you're one of them too."

A shard pierced Merlin's heart.

"But you put me first." Arthur nodded slowly. That still was an alien concept to him, Merlin could see: someone putting Arthur, the man, above all else, instead of Arthur, the prince. "That- that means something."

"Well." Merlin let his hands move to Arthur's shoulders. "I… I couldn't make you choose between me and your father, Arthur," he said. "I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair."

"No, I suppose not." Arthur's voice sounded very distant. "I probably would have chosen you."

Merlin's hands stilled. And that- how was he supposed to respond to that? He just pressed another kiss to Arthur's shoulders, hoping it showed, hoping it said something about his devotion, about how much he'd give to Arthur, how much he'd take if Arthur was willing.

Arthur turned around and kissed him back, something warm, and kind, and a little bit dirty, and his face had some tears, but Merlin wouldn't point it out. He just clutched onto Arthur, and Arthur clutched back.

"How are we going to-" Merlin cut himself off. "You're going to have to redo the entire system, Arthur. Fire half your council, rewrite everything."

"Well." Arthur laughed a bit. "Since it's all your fault, I suspect I'll just have to make you do it with me."

Merlin nodded, knocking his forehead against Arthur's. "Together, then. We'll do it together."

And maybe, just maybe, in the warmth of his smile, in the way Arthur was softly stroking his thumb against Merlin's cheek, there was a future, one where Merlin was nestled in the crook of Arthur's smile the same way Arthur was fitted into the corner's of Merlin's heart.